#vampire seokjin

[ziellewrites]

To Slow Dance the Lonely Vampire on AO3

[moonleeai]

My Moon

“ARMY Birthday Bash” BWHQ Fic Gifting Event

🖤 Written for Sara🖤

➢ Fic Pairing: Vampire Jin x Human Namjoon ➢ First Person POV ➢ AU: Vampires ➢ Rating: MA 🔞 ➢ WC: 5,371 ➢ Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst ➢ Trope: Strangers to Lovers ➢ Requested details: angsty vampire story ➢ Warnings: M x M sex, cursing, pain, blood drinking, obsession, forced vampirism

A/N: Thank you Jasz @downbad4yoongi , Leah @colormepurplex2, and Kari sunkissedwriter for beta reading and helping shape this story for Sara!!

Summary: Seokjin hides his vampire identity in a sleepy town as a restaurateur. He spends his time living off animals and creating to die for meals until a new handsome face comes to town. Like the moon loves the sky, there is an instant attraction, but Seokjin may be too much.

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Living as a modern-day vampire is simple and fun. Nowadays, no one cares if you’re a vampire as long as you’re not trying to kill them. They also don’t want to see or hear about how I satiate my hunger. My body has adapted to being in the sun and living off more than just human blood. My powers have weakened some, but I can still use my levitation and greater strength whenever I need. I don’t use them too often because I want to fit in and act as human as possible.

Becoming a butcher in disguise at a trendy eatery is my most clever façade yet. Kosmos, nestled between plenty of pretty coffee and pastry cafes, is my haven, so to speak, my safe place where I can fit in with the crowd. A delicatessen with a condo above it, a rooftop deck, and a large garden in the back. I found this sleepy but safe town along the Baltic Sea when I fled my last city from vampire hunters. I quickly became named the most handsome man with a sleek and classy aesthetic delicatessen, where I sell sliced meats and creative dishes. 

Human blood became boring to me ages ago. The hunt for wild animals is much more thrilling but also has much less risk than hunting humans. I tame my violet eyes by thriving off animal blood, something I’ve been doing longer than I can remember. In the restaurant, I can slaughter and cook the most exquisite meals, satiating my deepest cravings. I only open Kosmos four days a week, staying open well into the late hours and spending the other evenings hunting and experimenting with new dishes. 

Tonight is busier than usual. In an effort to liven up the area, the town council brought in a new art gallery, and from the talks of everyone, there’s a fetching curator as well. Kosmos happens to be the closest eatery, drawing many patrons in after they’ve visited the gallery. The artwork descriptions are fascinating, but the person they describe sounds much more intriguing. Tall, broad, drop-dead dapper; all words I’ve only heard folks using on myself. I'm a bit jealous of all the attention this new curator is getting, so I must see him for myself.

Instead of my usual day hunting, I decide to take a gander at the art gallery. Everyone is correct. The tall, burly man that greets the guests is devastatingly beautiful. I am possessed by his loveliness which leads me to spend countless days taking peeks from the sidewalk inside the small space through the large Crittall-style window. The art keeps the people busy enough not to notice me lurking day after day. 

Tonight, out of curiosity, I follow the new man. He rides a bicycle slowly and seems to enjoy the small-town views. With earbuds, he hums along to a tune I cannot hear. His apartment building is nice. A stunning yellow two-story home with dark accents and a maroon roof aside a cobblestone path. Outside of the front door, somehow within the cracks of the stones, are robust red flower bushes that rest along the house perimeter.

I perch myself on the roof of the home across the street and have a perfect view of this gorgeous man. I watch as he relaxes with a glass of whiskey and reads a book until he’s cleaning up and going upstairs. A bedroom light shines dimly through the upstairs window, completely unobscured. I stare as he undresses, removing his clothing, rough and messy, and tossing them onto the floor. As he turns off the light and lies in bed, the moon casts a perfect glow onto his silhouette. His chest slowly rising and falling is soothing. 

So soothing that time passes too quickly, and before I know it, the sun is rising. Today, I will make my existence known and visit this dreamy man at his gallery. Slowly but surely, I will make him fall in love with me and want to live eternally by my side. 

When I arrive at the art gallery, the man is occupied with a few guests, so I walk around aimlessly. Black hair compliments his warm honey skin under a white shirt tucked into cream slacks. While conversing with others, his dimples shoot daggers into hearts, and his deep voice soothes the sharp pain. 

“Hello, I’m Namjoon,” his deep voice boasts. As if I haven’t been watching his every move, I feign startled when he arrives by my side. His chocolate eyes pierce my dead soul within seconds.

“Seokjin,” I reply, flashing my sultry grin while extending my hand to grasp his in a handshake. His scent is warm and inviting…a soft rose with a hint of jasmine, something I now wish to smell endlessly.

“What do you think? These are ones I’ve collected over the years.”

“I’m not much on art… just wanted to check out the newest talk of the town.” My eyes roam his tall, brawny frame, and a subtle blush blooms on his cheeks.

“There are no right or wrong answers when it comes to art,” Namjoon says while placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me to another piece. “This one is by Yun Hyong-keun. Inspired by nature, he combined colors like those of earth and water tones.  He would spread the pigments over days, weeks, or even months to create intense darkness, implicative of the hardships he endured.” 

Not only is this man beautiful, but he is also intelligent. His eyes gleam as he speaks of the artist. 

“You got all that from looking at a painting?” Namjoon chuckles at my ignorance. “Do you do any painting yourself?” His eyes turn dark, and it looks like he’s deep in thought when he finally responds with a side grin. He nods his head to a side door and begins walking toward it, so I follow.

Namjoon slides the door open, holding it for me to pass through, and then closes it behind us. The dark room has a few paintings with a single dim spotlight casting over each piece. 

“These are my personal works,” Namjoon says.

There aren’t many colors, all gray, black, and red. A deep vibrant red. He tells me about a few of the pieces. The first one is like a window; two large black rectangles enclosed by a thick, vivid scarlet border. Hazy with muddy edges where the colors bleed together. There’s another canvas with a frail, ghostly white being against a black background smeared in red hues. At first glance, one may perceive that it’s a dress, but I see blood pouring over the body. Both are labeled as ‘Untitled’.

My favorite, though… displays interesting shadowy woods. The smudging of the paint looks like thick fog around grayish tree trunks. What’s fascinating is the leaves are clusters of red dots, bright and burgundy shades, creating a beautiful depth while also looking like blood splatter. 

I listen intently as Namjoon explains his art. Aside from his brawns and brains, his voice is hypnotic. I find myself stuck watching his mouth, his tongue bouncing around, forming each word perfectly. I subconsciously draw my bottom lip between my teeth, concentrating on his alluring mouth.

“You’re quite handsome; you know that?” Namjoon speaks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I know, I never get old.” I wink, and Namjoon chuckles, clearly amused by my antics.

“Would you…maybe… like to spend more time together?” Namjoon asks, and I find the shyness of his words endearing. 

“I’d love that.” I reach for his hands and rub my thumbs over his knuckles. Namjoon notes my touch is cold but never pulls away. I know my heart would be shaking in my chest if it still beat, but it sits frozen in my ribcage as it has for centuries.

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For our first date, we meet at a coffee shop. Quaint, relaxed, and the most refreshing iced Americanos. We both wear our version of casual attire. Namjoon’s slate-gray t-shirt is devilishly low, the v-cut plunging between his perky chesticles, hugging his biceps tightly. My eyes drift, following the curves he has on display; I don’t care if I get caught, either. The conversation is easy, steady. Small talk and casual getting to know each other. My mind is set on one thing…making him my lover…my forever, in just three lunar phases. I just need to tell him I’m a vampire.

On the next date, we take a stroll through architecture-filled historical sites and gardens with maps and pamphlets in one hand and our other hands busy with interlocked fingers. If my cold hands ever bother him, he never mentions it. We steal glances of each other every second we can. Here in the botanical garden, surrounded by lush trees with leafy branches, the weather is perfect, and flowers are in full bloom. Next to a pond is a gazebo where we find a bench to rest and hold hands. Listening to the birds sing around us, we talk and learn more about each other. I decide to tell him about my uniqueness. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, and I really hope it doesn’t scare you away.”

Namjoon turns toward me, giving his full attention.

“I’m just going to say it… no sugar coating… no—”

“Just say it,” Namjoon interrupts, his eyes frantically searching for clues as his heartbeat speeds up.

“I-- I’m-- a vampire.” I wince at the words shutting my eyes tight. When I hear no sounds, I peek through my eyelids, confronted by dimples. “I’m serious, Namjoon. I should’ve told you sooner, but—” My words are cut off by Namjoon’s finger delicately placed on my lips.

“Can I say I kind of knew?”

Confused, I reply, “You… knew?”

“Your skin is perfect porcelain, and you have the coldest touch. You dress more dapper than most our age. I’ve seen your violet eyes… and don’t get me started on your very interesting butcher hobby. Need I say more?”

“And that…none of that scared you away?”

Namjoon tightens his hands around mine. “I’ve never felt more smitten…more ensnared to a person like I am with you. A vampire, a wolf, or a bear…I’d still find you insanely attractive, and dare I say, I’d love you the same.”

“Love?” I feel like I’m hearing things, Namjoon really loves me already. “We’re like two volcanoes talking together then.” 

Namjoon scrunches his eyebrows. “What?”

“I lava you, too.” After we both laugh like windshield wipers on dry glass, I lean in and kiss his cheek. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders; now I know he will spend forever with me. 

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I plan our third date wisely. I am yearning to be close to him, so we go to the Forest of Wisdom, an hour’s drive with thoughtful conversation and getting to know more about each other. He tells me he’s always been fascinated with vampires and their abilities. Much as to why his art is mostly black and red, aligning with my original impression of blood splatter. To my surprise, he has a vast knowledge and is very calm talking about vampires. Namjoon and I find seats on the floor, and he reads me a book of poems with our shoulders pressed together.

“Ah this one, by Alexandra Vasiliu…’I want to bloom in your arms like the moon blooms in the night’s arms.’ I love that.”

I stare at his chestnut orbs, reading over the words in a loop, watching his eyebrows furrow while he’s lost in thought. I look to the next page and read, “‘If I were the moon, I would want you to be my sky.’ Namjoon, I think I shall call you my moon.”

“I’d like that,” Namjoon coos, snuggling into my side.

Quickly I’m learning Namjoon’s pleasures. He enjoys touch, and I feel his infatuation grow as he sneaks light touches in disguise of picking or brushing lint balls off my shirt. I catch him staring quite often, obviously entranced by my ethereal beauty.

On the way back, seated in the car, his baggy shorts hike up to his mid-thigh. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh, I move his shorts upward a bit more and feel his warmth under my icy palm. He shivers but places his hand on top of mine, keeping me there.

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Tonight, Namjoon wants to try cooking, making something delicious together. This, I’m a master at. I close Kosmos for the night and teach him everything I know. He brought an expensive bottle of whiskey that we share most of the night, and I show him different techniques with knives. I leave him to cut an onion and carrot while I whisk the sauce; things happen so quickly I can’t remember the order in which they occur. A thud and a gasp from Namjoon, and then a smell that overwhelms my senses. My eyes flash violet, and I am next to Namjoon within seconds. I reach for his hand and bring it to my mouth, letting the droplets of blood fall on my tongue. He tastes like syrupy butterscotch. My eyes roll to the back of my head as a growl escapes my throat.

Fangs threatening to appear, I pull his hand away and pull him into me, close. “Are you okay, my moon?”

He pulls away and studies my eyes. “Kiss me,” he whispers.

Confused, I stay still, but his lips crash into mine. My cock throbs as he explores my mouth with his tongue, giving me a taste of his whiskey breath, a mixture of barley and vanilla.

“Let me get you upstairs to tend to your cut.” I lead him to the stairs up into my home and sit him on the couch while I go to get the first aid kit. I dab some ointment on and place a band-aid over the cut. Namjoon places a hand behind my head and brings me into another kiss that I can’t resist. Who would want to? 

He moans into my mouth before breaking the kiss, “That was fucking hot… the way you licked my wound.”

I sit back against the couch. Carefully watching this mountain of a man remove his shirt and press his body into mine. My eyebrows arch at his boldness.

“Your heart is racing,” I note while tracing my hand over his chest, riling goosebumps.

“Do you want to taste more?” Namjoon mewls, pecking my lips fiercely.

“What are you suggesting?”

“You like blood, and I have what you like. I’ll try new things… for you.” Namjoon’s eyes long for acceptance. Who am I to turn away his desire to please me? Especially if it lets me taste his saccharine blood again.

My breath gets caught in my throat, admiring his body as he tilts his head to the side to expose his neck. He leans closer and deeply whispers, “Bite me.”

My head spins at the words, lips barely brushing his skin as one of his hands firmly grips my inner thigh. The pounding of his heart sends shock waves through my body, and my cock strains against my pants. Namjoon eagerly climbs into my lap and entangles his fingers in my hair, yanking my head back to make eye contact.

“I don’t want to hurt you; a bite is painful,” I warn, giving Namjoon a chance to change his mind.

“Pain is pleasure, Seokjin. Do it. Bite me.”

I smirk, lick my lips, and dig my frosty fingers into his waist before pushing my mouth onto his plump lips. I trail my tongue to his neck and suck for a moment before my fangs appear and scrape against his skin. One moan from Namjoon and my fangs sink into his skin like a warm knife through butter. My eyes loll with ecstasy flowing through my body.

“Ah, fuck,” Namjoon groans, and his body squirms in discomfort. But as I swallow a tongue-full of blood, I withdraw my fangs and soothe the painful punctures. I suck again, grunting when his hips grind down on mine, hissing into his neck at the touch of his clothed bulge against mine. His soft whines turn me on further, lost in his soul as I take more blood, coating every crevice of my mouth. Human blood has never tasted this good; I need to control myself.

I feel blood dribble down my chin, and I pull away from him, fascinated by the maroon rivulets that flow down his neck toward his chest. I’ve never seen anything more erotic than him dripping with blood, lips turned in a pout, and asking for more. I watch, amused, as blood trickles down to his nipple, begging for my mouth. Latching onto him, I gently suck his nipple into my mouth and then lick up the blood trail, my tongue grazing his skin back up to the puncture marks. The marks will heal before the night ends, leaving just a bruise.

“Seokjin,” my name plummets from his lips in a soft gasp, his hips bucking into mine. “Touch me,” Namjoon pleads. His thumb runs over my lip to collect stray blood before pushing his thumb into my mouth. I suck on his thumb and pull from it, making a popping sound, then move my hands to his waist. He stands while I tug his pants and briefs off. He tugs at my pants, and I lift my hips off the couch as he eases them to my knees, my aching cock hitting my stomach.

Namjoon straddles me again, licks his lips, and presses his plush lips into mine. I kiss him back, moaning when he nips my bottom lip, tongue tangling with his as he deepens the kiss. His large hands grip my shoulders as he slides his cock against mine and rests his forehead on my shoulder. I fight the urge to sink my teeth into him again.

I fuck my cock against Namjoon’s, swipe my hand over our tips, and spread the precum over our shafts, squeezing them both with one hand. It doesn’t cover us both, but it’s enough friction to feel good, too good. I stroke us at various paces until Namjoon’s body tenses. I can feel he’s ready to burst.

“Cum all over me, paint my stomach,” I encourage him with my tongue in his mouth. Namjoon shakes, and hot cum spurts onto my stomach. He lowers his head and sinks his teeth into my shoulder as he rides out his high, hips stuttering and starting to slow.

His bite sends me over the edge, and I groan as my cum explodes and mixes with his. He deepens another kiss, pressing his body into the stickiness between us. We stay like this until our breathing slows, caressing each other. Namjoon sighs and grabs his shirt, wiping us off and cleaning my stomach.

“We should do this again sometime,” Namjoon praises before climbing off me and finding his clothes.

“Stay,” I say, a little more pleading than I intend. Namjoon smiles and drops his clothes back to their place on the floor.

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The next morning, when I come back from my hunting, Namjoon is gone. I go to his home and find my place on the roof across the street and watch him through the window. This time, he’s painting. A black and gray scheme with a walking path between rocky hills and skinny bare trees. He dips his brush in red and paints a huge circle in the middle, a blood moon. Then he’s back to black, stroking lines into a figure of a person with a cape blowing in the wind. The finishing touch, though…I’m not sure what to make of it. He dips his brush in the white and creates a sword in the person’s hand. An individual with a silver-looking sword walking toward a blood moon.

I don’t think Namjoon knows or understands what the meaning of a blood moon is for vampires. My desire for blood is boosted times a thousand, which usually causes conflict for my kind. People become more aware of vampire existence during the blood moon, and therefore I, as well as others, are faced with imminent threats and conflicts.

I’ll tuck this in the back of my mind for a later conversation because, again, the time has quickly passed, and the sun is setting. On my way back to my place, a great idea sparks my mind to have Namjoon willingly agree to be my eternal lover. He loves plants and the outdoors, so I will create a garden for him. Something he can look forward to maintaining for all eternity. 

In between spending time with Namjoon, I spend the next few weeks preparing, finding, and importing exotic, fully bloomed night flowers and plants for a moon garden where I will confess my love and propose an immortal life together. Purple fountain grass that rustles in the breeze. Plenty of flowers to shine under the moonlight like the fragrant iceberg rose, giving off fruit and honey scents. White wonder caladium with its green edges and pink veins throughout the white leaf. Clusters of phlox, jasmine, and moon flowers with their lemony perfume. 

I use pebbles and white marble chips to create a crescent design on the ground. A small waterfall provides the soothing sound of running water and reflects the moonlight. In the middle of it all, a makeshift bed with comforters and pillows. This is where I will ask Namjoon to be my eternal lover and hear him beg me to turn him into an immortal like me. Here is where we will confess our love and be one with each other for time without end. I even set up an easel with a canvas and all the art supplies he could possibly need to paint boundless pictures of the garden.

Namjoon arrives for our evening together dressed casually elegant. A loose-fitting cream, cashmere sweater with a polo neck paired with black weaved leather pants. His style puts mine to shame with my white satin button-down shirt tucked liberally into black slacks. After sharing a meal and tender touches, I tell him I have a surprise. I’m nervous and have to hide my shaking hands as I blindfold him and take his hand, carefully guiding him outside into the garden I created out of love. I remove his blindfold, and he inhales sharply. While he takes in every detail, I watch the stars twinkle in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“A moon garden… for my moon.” I point to the area with the painting supplies and then shove my hands in my pockets, “and all the things for you to let out your creativity.” Waiting for his response, my stomach flips, thinking how close I am to spending an eternity with him.

“It's ethereal and perfect, just like you.” Namjoon kisses me deeply, holding the back of my head with one hand. Pulling away, he murmurs, “I love it.” 

I slot my lips with his and suck his lower lip between my teeth; feeling greedy, I declare, "I want to ruin you and make you mine for eternity." My brain short-circuits, and all subtleness is out the door. Namjoon tenses, then he simply grins at the statement.

“Ruin me, Seokjin,” he whimpers.

Namjoon glows under the full moon, and I am eager to make him mine. Standing next to the garden bed, I trace my hands along his mountainous ridges. I listen to his coos and swallow them as they escape from his throat. We tear at each other's pants, and he tugs roughly on my blouse, sending buttons soaring in opposite directions. I moan in response to both his passion and his palm caressing my confined cock. Free of our imprisonments, I lower him onto the blankets, surrounded by pillows. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows rise for a quick second before relaxing again. “Your eyes, they’re exquisite.” I drop my head to his neck, acting shy of his compliment, and sprinkle his skin with kisses. Is this when I ask him? No, not yet.

I feel Namjoon reaching for something, so I glance toward his hand. He’s pulling a bottle of lube from his pants pocket. I look into his eyes and wait for him to say something.

“Ruin me. Bite me. Make me yours.” Namjoon’s words have blood rushing to my cock, and I rut against his rock-hard thigh. 

“Your wish is my desire.”

“What are you? A genie?” 

I drench my fingers along with Namjoon's hole with the lube. Carefully, I push one finger past his rim, taking my time to loosen him up for me, showering him with gentle kisses... for now. "Is this okay?" I ask while dragging my teeth over his prickled skin.

"More, Seokjin, please," his whine spirals into my ear, sending a thrill down my spine. I insert another finger, praising him with words and soft suckles along his neck. I linger over his vein, letting it pulsate on my tongue. The throbbing on my tongue excites me more, and my hips rock, pushing my swelling cock into his leg again.

"More," he breathes. 

"My moon. You're so good for me," I moan low and soothe his tense body with my lips.

“Bite me, Seokjin, please. I need more–” his words are cut off by his moans.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please…” he begs continuously, almost in tears. I gaze at his body’s slight movements, his chest heaving, before I sink my fangs into his succulent neck. His butterscotch blood fills my mouth immediately, and Namjoon hisses as I swallow. I pump my fingers quicker, scissoring them as I swallow more nectar.

"I'm ready, please. I can't wait any longer."

I pull away, hide my fangs and drown myself in more lube. I watch his blood trail onto his shoulder and slowly press my girth into him. His sounds, oh his sounds. If I didn't have centuries of self-control, I would've cum already.

"Seokjin–ah– you're s–so big. Go–ah–slow, please, please, please, slow," Namjoon begs as his body writhes underneath me.

Slowly, my cock bottoms out inside Namjoon, and I pause, allowing him to breathe through it. I press my lips on his and use my tongue to part his lips, tangling our tongues, numbing his mind from the sting of the stretch.

"So good, my moon. You're doing so so good." My cock throbs inside his tight muscle. "Mmmm, can you feel that?" I subtly move my hips and swallow each mewl he makes. I pull my face away and look into his eyes as I drag my cock slowly out of him and push back in a little quicker. His glassy eyes flutter, and I raise my hand to his cheek, brushing away a single tear with my thumb. "Shhh, it's going to feel so good. I promise."

The garden fills with moans and pants as I drag my cock slowly against Namjoon's walls, licking from his collarbone to his shoulder, getting every last drop. I cage his head with my arms and quicken my pace, watching and feeling how his body reacts to me. He ruts his cock against my stomach, seeking any kind of friction.

"Fuck. Yes, like that," Namjoon moans, his back arching off the makeshift bed of blankets. His ass swallows my cock so deliciously; it’s a torturous pleasure.

I rise to my knees, unsheathing myself, and a whimper escapes Namjoon's lips. I pull his hips to my waist, and his shoulder blades rest on the ground. I maneuver a pillow under his hips before turning my attention to his raging pink cock with pre-cum that glistens in the moonlight. I spit in my hand, then caress his thick length, smearing it around and mixing it with his fluids. His body shakes with pleasure, all for my eyes. I take my other hand and squeeze his throat before following his perfectly sculpted lines down his chest and to his abs. I abandon the lube and align myself with his hole, entering slowly and as deep as I can.

Namjoon rasps a deep, stuttered moan as he pushes his ass into me. I stroke his cock rhythmically with my thrusts until he releases his warm arousal onto my hand and all over his stomach. I slow, only to finish depleting his every last drop, then press my hand firmly against his stomach, smearing the sticky substance. He smells of jasmine and honey, like the flowers around us, I immediately want to taste it. 

I bring my hand to my mouth and lick his remnants, growling in pleasure. This excites Namjoon, and he clenches around my cock. I gasp and feel my cock twitch inside him. The moonlight highlights every bead of sweat on Namjoon's torso as I pump furiously inside him. His accentuated plump veins and arteries, with his breathless sobs, are the push I need to find my release. Head falling back, I roll over the edge and fill him with my release. My body crumbles on top of him, and I slow my hips milking my cock to completion. I place my arms on either side of his head, soaking in his beauty, feeling drunk on love. 

I kiss him wildly and then lazily lift myself and roll to his side as he wraps his arms around me. I run my hand over Namjoon's hair and tuck it behind his ear, basking in an afterglow.

But as we lock eyes, I sense something is off with my love. He’s next to me but seems so far away. My chest tightens.

“Everything…okay?”

“Why did you do all this for me? This garden with beautiful plants and a perfect view under the moon?”

“Because I love you, Namjoon. I want to be with you forever and make you the happiest—” I didn’t want to ask him to be my immortal partner this way, laying next to each other, naked, half covered in blankets.

“Happiest… what?” 

“Well, you already know so much about vampires, and you seem really fascinated with them, so I—I don’t know. I was hoping you’d maybe want to be one… with me.”

Namjoon’s lips move, but no words come out. 

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like?” I ask, trying to pry words from him.

“No,” he answers quickly.

“Oh—okay…Wh—what about being with me? For good?”

“Why couldn’t I stay human?” Namjoon abruptly sits up and grabs for his clothes. Dressing frantically while I rush to do the same.

“I mean, I just thought we could be together…endlessly. It would hurt too much to watch you age and leave me.”

“I don’t want to give up my human life,” Namjoon nearly whispers, and I can feel the uncertainty of the future weighing heavily on his mind.

“Why? What can be better than eternal life with me? Your true love?”

“I—I want to experience life…I don’t want to be stuck here forever…” Namjoon sputters. 

“But you can see the world. Every country, every food, enjoy owning the rarest items or plants…” I try to reason with him, calm his worries even.

“I don’t want to survive off blood and watch the world pass me by!” Namjoon yells, and the blood I’ve stored in my body begins to boil. My eyes feel different, I can feel them change, but it’s not the same. “Your eyes, they’re a reddish tint.”

My anger boils through my limbs, and I lurch toward Namjoon. He runs behind the easel and picks up a paintbrush, angling the handle toward me like he wants to stab me. “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” Namjoon shouts, trying to keep me at bay.

“I’ll have you, no matter what!” 

I use my power and conquer him, sinking my fangs into his neck, this time, not letting go. My entire strength is used to subdue him and drink his blood. The difference is I don’t stop. Not until I feel a cold, black cloud surround me. I drank just enough to leave Namjoon alive but unconscious next to me.  I bite my wrist and open his mouth, squeezing drops of my blood into his mouth and coax his throat to help him swallow.

I have never wanted anyone this badly; this is the only way that will make him stay with me forever. I kiss his lips and lay patiently by his side, awaiting my new eternal lover to awaken to our new life.

[droolyjinnie]

Meet vampire Seokjin! Their beauty is beyond captivating to all that look upon them. With galaxies swirling in their eyes, the sweet and tempting one-toothed vampire lures the warm-blooded in for a tarot reading or a gaze into the crystal ball.

If they are of pure heart, Seokjin will tell them something sweet and send them on their way, but if they do not meet Seokjin’s standards, then they have no problem relieving the idiot from the contents of their purse… or their life’s blood if it comes to that.

This will be on my website for sell in August!

[stephanie-artdesign]

Small throwback post to the first version I did of Vamp Jin back in 2020 ✨🩸 I had a lot of fun doing a darker concept 🖤

Full Timelapse:

[spookyserenades]

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

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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. 

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[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

CRIMSON EYES 🩸

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, self harm, attempt to suicide, consumption of alcohol and blood, male and male sexual content, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, blood play, death, description of injuries, themes of major horror/psychological horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. The story will contain aspects of the show Vampire Diaries and the BTS Wings era.

>If you are sensitive to any of these themes please do not proceed with the story.<

Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, reversed harem, best friends to lovers.

🩸My Master List🩸

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 • 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 >

Chapter One🩸

The night felt cooler then usual. That for Spring Villa was uncanny but nothing about this town was near close to normal, I felt breathless. Running through the woods with nothing but the full moon above me to light up the path between the tall trees, the cold air burned inside my lungs.

I couldn’t stop even if I wanted too, my feet seems to move on their own. I should hide, I knew that. His presence became more obvious as the sound of his footsteps behind me became louder and clearer.

Every breath I took.

Closer.

Every step away.

Closer.

Until I couldn’t breath anymore, falling miserable on the cold wet path of the night. I could hear him laughing behind me, his deep breathy chuckled bitterly echoed around me.

I needed to get up.

But I couldn’t. My body wasn’t mine, I couldn’t move even if I begged myself to.

Vision getting blurred the more I tried to breath but no air was coming to my lungs, until the horrified feeling of a cold hand closed around my neck turned me around.

I couldn’t see his face even when he was so close to me, all I could see was his red eyes staring at me as he took my last breath.

The loud beeping noise of my alarm woke me up abruptly, I was breathless completely covered in cold sweat once again. I looked over the small vintage silver clock over my nightstand, glad it was still early in the morning and I had more then enough time to get ready to work at the Spring Grill.

A sight left my lips once I was finally able to catch my breath, once again I had the same dream. By this time I should’ve become used to them, It has been years since I started having weird nightmares, every damn night. It became unbearable and at some point I had to go to the hospital once after waking up screaming, I don’t remember anything from that night just that the nightmares continued since then. I used to take pills to help me sleep and at first they helped but as time passed they simply stopped working and I was too tired to ask for more, because of my reputation the doctors could’ve locked me at the mental facility and feeling helpless I just stopped taking them, I gave up on trying to stop the nightmares. They won’t go away no matter what I do. What’s the point fighting?

The day had just started and I felt restless.

Tired from knowing exactly what would happen after I opened the door of my room and went downstairs, knowing exactly how my day is going to start and how is going to end. Every day is the same for me. I wished I could say something about it but there is nothing especial about my life in this town.

I was known for being the weird girl, psycho girl down the street with an alcoholic mother who every neighbor hates now.

I used to be someone just like everyone, I had dreams like every other girl in high school did and I wanted more from life than anyone else did. I was alive.

For years I tried so hard not to let my parents actions get the best of me but now I feel like I can’t bearly breathe, my mother drank all her emotions away with alcohol till the bottles are empty just like herself.

I’m no better then her. Hiding away my scars with a jacket so no one knows it. Not that they would care anyway.

Once I’m pleased with my appearance after getting ready, making sure to hide the dark circles under my eyes with make up. I hold on tight to the door before opening in a breath, immediately holding my breath as I walk down the corridor to the stairs. A sight of relief washes over me as I notices she’s still asleep in the couch as I walk over the door as quietly as possible.

Mom was passed out again and thankfully on the right time for me to leave unnoticed by her.

Another sight of relief leaves my lips as I could finally breath in the cold air of Spring Villa, it was not always that I could leave home without any trouble caused by my mother. I was always grateful when I could.

And for just this once I could actually smile. Even though I knew everything would crash down when I get home later at night. For now I let myself breath for once.

Making my way through the empty streets till I get to the Grill, it won’t be a long walk anyway. Spring Villa was not known for being a big city, you could walk pretty much all around here and you could never be late. Every place here was placed right next to it, especially the neighborhood that’s why you can’t keep secrets in his town. People are so noisy here.

The center of the city was much more busy today, more tourist must have come since Halloween is in two months now. The perfect time to spread the old reports about the city’s history of a serial killer. People are so empty it makes me sad for them, but in all honesty sadness is all you can find in this city.

Once I finally get to my destination I open the wooden doors to the Spring Grill immediately being embraced by its warm interior, making my way to the staff room quickly changing into the Grill apron marking my shift as I leave the staff room. Today I’ll be serving tables in the morning and later I’ll serve at the bar.

No one minds my presence here so I just embrace my own thoughts and begin my work.

For the entire day I’ve been working, I wished it lasted longer. Contradicting I know. Even though I was tired like hell and my feet hurt just as bad; Even though I could already feel sweat running down the back of my neck and my arms felt like jelly from holding heavy trays with food and drinks for hours, the thought of heaving to go back home was never a pleasant one for me.

My shift was almost done and I moved as slow as possible with no desire to go home I was still behind the bar in case any costumers come for a few drinks, it was night already yet the Grill was just as agitated as it was in the afternoon. People didn’t care for their safety anymore, they would stay up all night drinking at Spring Villa even though our little city was known for a serial killer case, all they wanted was something to gossip about anyway and here, it was the serial killer case still unsolved after years.

Quickly to my distraction a costumer just made his way to the bar, he sat on the barstool asking for a bottle of beer. I made my way to get it for him filling a cup with ice and putting in front of him as well as the opened bottle, he thanked me without looking my way throwing a few dollar bill over the bar to pay.

I simply took it. I wasn’t used to kindness in this place, no one here seemed to know what it meant anyway.

The sound of the ring above the door signs for more costumers and I immediately looked up to see who it might be, noticing the familiar faces as he also noticed me from further away.

My best friend.

He was the only one who knew who I was and still chose me to be his friend, Jungkook wasn’t like the people from Spring Villa. He had an energy around him that even from afar you could tell he was special. He wasn’t even from here. He shined wherever he was and always became the life of the party, his smiled was a punch in the stomach of everyone one from this city, a face that was a constant reminder of how different and full of life he was. The truth was no one knows we’re he comes from or any of his friends, not even me. I never bother to ask him too. I always assumed he could tell me whenever he felt ready for it and apart from that, there was nothing we didn’t know about each other.

I only knew a few of his guy friends, with Jungkook there were seven of them and they all lived together with the oldest of the group in his house. I never asked him what his friends did for a living or what they’d were here for as it wasn’t Jungkooks place to say anyway and we both hated gossip. I knew he wasn’t like the other people who only came here for the serial killer case and that was enough for me to not ask questions. I was closer with him and his friend Jimin, who’d usually hang around with us the most, the others were much busier and didn’t stick around us much so I haven’t meet them yet and bearly knew them.

Seeing him together with his friend Jimin and the white haired Hoseok was something for the eyes to see, from any distance you could tell they were not from this small city.

From the way they all dressed so sophisticated and the way they walk, talk, even breath to every detail on them you could tell they where perfect. No one here was at their level, people tended to do everything to keep it to themselves so it doesn’t call for unnecessary attention to themselves. I still remember when they first came here, everybody talked about them for three months and so many rumors began to rise about them. The boys kept things to themselves and only talked to a few people from town, so gossip about them were all over the town as soon as they stepped foot in here. It wasn’t like any other tourist who came to town, they came to stay and that made the rumors about them grow even more especially since they all looked anything from normal.

Hoseok was well know because of his white hair and the signature sunglasses he wore all the time, some said he was blind and some said he had devil eyes. People said all sorts of things about them for their looks and I honestly thought the people in this town were just being mean at this point, these people never seemed to have something to do and were always on someone else’s business. The few things I heard about Jimin was; how he was always out with a red haired man at night, always at the company of a woman or a men and by far he was the most popular with people.

Jungkook was the rumored bad boy, always up to something bad and some people spreed that he was in a gang, that he was a criminal and today we just laugh at that. I couldn’t even begin to imagine him as such rumors portrayed him.

I didn’t care much about it, after a few weeks talking with Jungkook he told me the oldest of his friends Jin was the son of one of the founders of Spring Villa and that’s way they came here, they were staying at his late fathers house the mansion on the other side of the city.

I was surprised no one know anything about the founders of Spring Villa - since gossip was their priority around. But people only talked about what they wanted and what they wanted to hear, even when it wasn’t true.

I watched as Jungkook parted ways with his friends who took one of the tables on a corner and make his way to the bar were I was, a smirk playing around his lips as he did so. He looked incredibly handsome tonight, like usual. He wore a black outfit, never a fan of colors as he would always tell me, a leather jacket over the long sleeve shirt and loosen jeans ripped on the knees.

I replied with a smile of my own, watching as he sat on the bar stool in front of me.

“when is your shift ending tonight?” he asked, as soon as he took the bar stool in front of me. A playful look glimmered in his eyes, by his tone I knew he would ask me to join later.

“in an hour, why?” I said, cleaning over the bar in front of us to place a glass with ice for him, turning around to get him his usual whiskey.

“perfect, we’ll have enough time to get a few drinks before going to the bonfire that’s happening by the lake” at his words I turned around quickly looking at him dumbfounded.

“we? who said I was going?” I teased.

“I did” he said as if it was nothing, pushing his glass towards me to fill it, scoffing playfully I did so.

He looked up at me with biggest puppy eyes ever, leaning his head slightly to the side. I chuckled knowingly.

“oh no, I know this look…” I tell him as I filling another glass of whiskey for him. “…and it won’t work. Jungkook you know I hate parties.”

“Yeah but… this is different” he says, almond eyes shining through his long lashes as he stared at me with a sly smile.

“really how?”

“I’ll be there” he said drink all of the liquid in his hand in one gulp. “my friends too, so come please?”

I looked over the table his friends were sat at, they were looking over us too. No wonder, Jungkook must’ve told everyone one he knew I was going already. Not that many people would care if I showed up or not, he was the only one who does care.

If this was the only way to not go home tonight, might as well just grab the chance. For once I could walk out of my sad blue and gray routine.

“ok I’ll go with you” I finally tell him, filling his glass one more time.

“I knew you would” his eyes seemed to light up above his smirk in that moment, making my heart skip a beat. It was a different kind of look, one I have never seen before.

I would be the biggest lier if I ever say I didn’t had a crush on him, Jungkook was one of the most handsome men on Spring Villa ever since he step foot here. All woman and men lined up in front of him for a chance to be with him, he was definitely a catch.

Anyone could tell he was hot just by looking, he had his own special charm to make people fall in love with him instantly. Not only did he had a beautiful body that you could definitely tell was all toned even under all the dark loosen clothes he wore but, he had his way with everybody and all it took was one look and a charming smile from him and you would fall on his knees, he didn’t go by anyone unnoticed. People here either loved him or hated him, no in between. I knew from the moment I first saw him that nothing could ever happen between us, that’s why we have such strong friendship.

I couldn’t help but let my eyes wonder from every now and then, every time I would notice him looking away I let myself get a glimpse of his beautiful body and his beautiful face.

But he was much more then that to me, he was my best friend. One of the only ones I had and I wouldn’t let anything mess that up, even my own feelings. I would push anything aside to keep him by my side, even if is my heart.

He deserves more. More then I could ever be.

“oh right…” he suddenly said “you like girls right?”

“what!?” I exclaimed, flushed at his sudden question.

“what, what?” he lifted his eyebrows up surprised “you never said anything about boyfriends and I never saw you with a guy, I’m starting to wonder….”

“no…” i like you, you idiot. Is what I want to say, but I can’t and I shouldn’t. Never. “Don’t just assume that kind of thing…”

“well then what do you like, I need to know so I can set you up with someone for the bonfire” he said.

“I like boys, and you don’t need to set me up with anyone.”

“ok.”

“besides is not like anyone is interested in me or what so ever” I began to angrily clean the bar top.

“ok, sorry for pushing kitty” he said, stoping me from cleaning with his hand over mine.

I immediately looked up at him, heart beat skipping a beat as I gulped down. His eyes scanned my face, i tried my best not to show how the nickname affected me focusing on the light in his eyes as they seemed to shine different tonight almost making them look brighter like whiskey mixed with wine. I was completely lost in him again, too much to notice his cold hand over mine as his smile brought my attention to his lips. Wet and pink.

“you’ll take our table for the rest of your shift right?” he asked softly.

“of course, who else can put up with you guys?” I tell him.

He only chuckled nodding towards me, he got up from his seat and gave me one last smile before turning around to go back to the table with his friends. I wished i could tell that smile went past me and didn’t effect me as much as he always did, he was my only friend why did such feelings had to rise from my chest every time i was with him?

Once again i shut that door in my heart to stop them from rising again.

For some reason the past hour felt like an eternity, i carried on serving Jungkooks table for the rest of my shift as they order as much they could drink for the time being before it was time to go to the bonfire, Jungkook was with two of his friends tonight and it always amazed me how much they drink and don’t even looked halfway drunk. I knew they were seven although it has difficult to see all of them together at the same time, i only knew their names through Jungkook and a few things about them as he would tell me sometimes. How they all meet one by one as the years passed through trips around the world.

He mentioned how he first meet Hoseok when he went to a contemporary dance concert at a music festival and at the same week he meet Taehyung who were there to play violin at the festival, he said they all clicked with each other immediately and a few months later they run into Jimin in a party as well as Yoongi as they already knew each other. It seemed Yoongi already knew Jin the oldest and Jin knew Namjoon from birth as they grew up together away from Spring Villa.

I haven’t meet the older friends yet, they all seemed to be occupied with something as Jungkook would always tell me. He admire his friends very much from how he always speaks so passionately of them to me from time to time. So far i only knew Jimin since he and Jungkook were always together as well as Hoseok who sometimes tags along with the two, although they were very closed to each other i never saw them with the other three.

One look at the clock and a sight of relief left my lips as i notice my shift was about to end, making my way towards the staff room to change and hit the end of my shift, I quickly take my things from my locker before walking out of the staff room. I wished i knew he would invite me out for the bonfire, I would have put a bit more of an effort into how i looked before going out.

Whilst making my way towards their table I tried to fix my hair the best I could, untying the messy bun i did earlier to work and letting my hair fall messily down my back. I watched as the three of them seemed to be heaving a fun conversation before Jungkook turned towards my direction a smirk on his lips as he looked me up and down rising his eyebrows playfully.

“are you guys ready to go?” i said, once i finally stood in front of them catching their stares.

“yes boss” said Jimin, while getting up from his seat being fallowed by the two others.

“are we walking there?” i asked Jungkook taking his side while we made or way out of the Grill.

“yeah, is not that far from here” he took a cigarette from his pocket lightening it up while we walked down the cold streets of Sping Villa.

The smoke filling the humid air around us, it hadn’t rain in a few days here which was honestly a miracle. That was unusual in a city that rained more than anything, at times like this i really wondered if the reason why the serial killer just wasn’t caugh because the rain cleaned his traces.

How lucky and convenient for someone to attack this small town, I couldn’t help but think about it from time to time. Even though i would always brush this thoughts away from my mind now letting Jungkook and his friends voice fill my head as we make our way to the bonfire on the west side of town. Although it was away from the town it didn’t took too long for us to get there, a bonfire in Spring Villa was rare due to the heavy rains that were present every day here. People must been excited about it, something i was unfamiliar with. All senses of joy for me were short lived, I didn’t have a choice but to give up on them. Not because i wanted but, because they were stolen from me each time.

I looked up at the sky watching as the full moon shined above me, the sky never looked so clear before. Full of stars to replace the clouds and cover us and more light.

It felt warmer to be under the moon for once, I couldn’t remember the last time i saw her.

“you okay?” Jimin whispered over my ear, one arm closing around my neck as he showed me a smile.

“yeah” i replied his smile.

Out of all of them - or at least, the ones i knew - Jimin was the most touchy person, Jungkook could get clingy sometimes but usually only when he needed something in return. Even though he was a men after all, i never once felt uncomfortable close to him. He always had a soft energy around him that just brings you into him each time, it took some time before we got close enough to be like this though with each other. The first time we meet he couldn’t even look at me without shying away, it was cute.

I circle my arm around his waist and we make our way together.

“oh… i see why don’t have to set you up with anyone…” Jungkook said, playfully beside me eyeing us together.

“hey, his my friend too” i glare at him playfully.

“see? she’s mine too” Jimin taunts beside me, pulling me from the shoulders as he closed around me a deep chuckle filling the air from his chest.

I chuckled with him too distracted by his smile and hands around me to notice we were the only ones laughing, too absorbed by his eyes over mine to look anywhere else.

Everything just felt like slow motion whenever i was with them, i could bearly see through it all. And i loved every little second of it - anything to stay out of home.

I didn’t liked parties much, I never understood what was so special about them. Maybe if you have friends it is more enjoyable to be partying, since for a long time people didn’t wanted to be close to me I just shut myself down from everything I could.

Until Jungkook showed up I had no one by my side, now with him and his friends I can actually enjoy a bit of fun.

Just like I predicted it didn’t took us much longer to arrive at the bonfire, I watched around us all the young people laugh over the loud music with red cups in hands. Some danced, some just sat around the big bonfire drinking and just talking while some were courageous enough to be swimming at the lake.

Jungkook guided us to a big fallen tree in a corner closer to the lake to sit there, him and Jimin left quickly to get us some drinks and Jungkook came without Jimin saying his getting something stronger.

I took one beer from him as Hoseok did the same, sitting between the too boys.

“oh god I hate this…” immediately regretted taking a sip of the cheap drink.

“what? The party?” Hoseok asked beside me.

“no… this disgusting liquid” I turned to the white haired boy putting the bottle down.

“oh, not everyone does” he chuckled. “what do you like drinking?”

“sweet!” Jimins loud voice interrupted before I could answer.

He sat in front of us all giggly with which I assumed was a stolen bottle of strawberry Smirnoff.

“she likes the strong and sweet drinks”Jimin answered for me.

“you’re right, thanks Jimin.”

He gives me a wink fallowed by a small nod opening the bottle for me to have a sip, we all drank a few times together and I remember mentioning that I hated beer and preferred sweeter drinks and wine, I didn’t know he would remember as we usually were completely nocked out drunk.

“want some?” I offer to Hoseok.

“oh yes…” he took the bottle from my hand, cold fingers brushing over mine.

A chill went down my body for a second and a hugged myself, watching as he drank a good amount lips slightly wet from the drink.

He handed me back the bottle, the fire shining on the dark glasses on his face.

“isn’t it too dark for you?” i playful ask.

“a little…” he smiled, taking it off.

I tried to hide my surprise when I saw his eyes for the first time, the fire reflected in them wildly almost like a reflection on a mirror. His eyes were of a blue so clear to a white shade I could swear o saw galaxies in them, I can’t understand why he would want to hide them he looked even more beautiful without the glasses.

I don’t question him anymore deciding to enjoy the time with them by drinking some more, I let time completely go forgotten for now watching the fire burn in front of me.

At some point i knew i was completely drunk already, the bottle in my hand wasn’t the same from before and my body felt lighter. Everything that was coming out of Jimins mouth seemed to be the most funny joke I’ve ever heard, he kept me entertained for the most time taken me to dance a few times even.

But I couldn’t keep up with his energetic self, body tired from working a whole shift at the Grill.

Then again he would pull me out to dance again this time taking the white haired boy with us, the three of us drunk as hell dancing together with the people around the bonfire.

The hot heat warmed my body and for once I felt the happiest for once, nothing matter in the world anymore and all my problems had evaporated completely from my mind.

When Hoseoks cold hands took mine into his to dance bringing my body closer to his, I let him. Giggling like an idiot with my cheeks hotter then the fire burning beside us, when he brushed my hair back exposing my skin I simply let him.

I could feel his drunken giggles over my face as he spin me around, hands holding my waist but it wasn’t his anymore. Looking up I’m meet with Jimins sweet eyes and smile.

Every cell in my body was being pulled towards him, as if I was in a dream a state I could no longer control my body and only watch what was happening.

Watching as my body leaned forward into his, the only moment I felt like my body belonged to me when I felt the shivers running down my skin as he brushed the hair away from my shoulder, eyes staring down at my lips the more he leaned into me.

Just then before he could move another centimeter closer, Jimin was pulled away from me as well as the dreamy state I was in.

All together I felt my senses come back, the sound of loud music and people’s talking around us, the smell of fire burning. Jungkook stood in front of me anger clearly reflected on his features as he stared silently at Jimin who looked at him with the same intensity.

I watched the two of them confused, feeling a gentle pull at my arm from behind me I turned quickly looking up and Hoseok.

He muttered a “let’s go” and I fallowed him wherever he was going, turning back a few times to check on the two males we just left.

We stood closer to a truck filled with all sorts of drinks, Hoseok grabbed a few water bottles from it and we stood close to a big old tree. I could see all the bonfire from here as well as Jungkook and Jimin leaving together into the dark entrance of trees.

After drink half of the water I looked up at Hoseok who still looked where the two boys just went.

“what happened?” I asked him, feeling completely lost. “was it something I did?”

“no y/n…” he turned to me, clearly trying his best to hide what he truly felt in that moment “you didn’t do anything it’s just… they have something’s going on right now, it’s a bit complicated.”

“oh… oh” the realization hits me like a brick.

From the time I’ve been friends with Jungkook I knew that both, men and woman were always there for him trying to get with him. I just never saw him with someone before and now everything made sense to me, he had something with Jimin.

That thought made things more complex to me, I just couldn’t understand why he never mentioned to me before. We were friends.

After some time had passed I realized that maybe that was because of me, Jungkook must’ve seen all of that and now they are fighting.

I couldn’t bear that, I never knew that could happen and before I even know I was already making my way into the dark trees without Hoseok noticing.

If they fight because of me I have to clear things out, beyond that I felt terribly bad for Jungkook.

Walking into this tress at night made me feel uncomfortable, it was a clear reminder of my nightmares and I felt the fear growing inside of my chest the deeper I went through that darkness.

I could still hear the loud music and talking of people from here but as I carry on walking I heard loud hustles from the other side, I didn’t felt the need to rush there until I heard Jungkooks voice.

My feet moved on it’s on I was rushing through the bushes, fallowing his voice as I felt some bushes hit me all over until I stomp into the unexpected scene.

My breath got stuck in my throat but everything looked so clear that my whole body went cold.

Jungkook was pressed on the tree as someone held him by the neck, a painful expression reflected on his features as the men who held him there was glued to his neck.

It wasn’t until said men leaned back from him and I realized it was Jimin, exposing all the blood on his face it finally came to me what was happening. Jungkook fell to the ground hand over his neck, a painful groan leaving his lips .

All I could do was watch, feeling my body cold as ice completely frozen at the spot as jimins face covered in blood turned towards me. A gasp leaving my lips as his eyes burned over mine, red eyes like crimson blood.

I immediately turned to leave finally finding the will to move my frozen body but, all to my surprise he was right there in front of me with a bloody smirk on his lips.

No.

My vision began to blur into darkness, my own body completely giving up on standing and I felt weak in my senses.

No.

All I could see was his red eyes before I fall into the darkness of my mind.

I could feel my lungs burning as i breathed in and out the cold air, i was running between the trees again the darkness of my surroundings where swallowing me the deeper i ran into it.

Every cell in my body burned getting more restless as I desperately rushed through the woods, completely exhausted and out of breath my vision blurred and i felt my body give up on me falling miserably into the wet grass.

Turning around breathless a shadow presence like the dark night sky made his way slowly towards my body on the ground, i wanted to get up, run again my body wouldn’t listen to me.

I felt my body completely froze at the sight the closer he got to me, the moon light slowly illuminated more of his presence each step he took.

The more clear i saw him the more anxious i felt, just then as he stood completely above me i realized i knew who he was. I could no longer breathe as his red crimson eyes stared into mine with complete darkness, for the first time in years i see the face of my nightmares.

He falls to his knees in front of me, blood dripping from his mouth as a smile i never saw on him grows on his lips. I felt at loss at the sight of Jungkook, still not believing in it but there he was ready to take me as one of his victims.

I woke up in a rush cold sweat dripping from my forehead, my chest was hurting instantly feeling as if I had rubbed a marathon my body ache in pain and my head was foggy as if I was under water for a moment until I wasn’t and high pitched sound echoed through my head.

Once it faded away I was able to breath normally, looking around to see I was in my room. I couldn’t make out how i felt in that moment, everything still felt like a dream.

But that couldn’t be.

The memories of last night were a blur in my head, I couldn’t place my thoughts together weakly trying and the more i did the more my head hurt tears forming in my eyes i felt so helpless. Not being able to control my own my mind anymore no matter how much i tried to, all of a sudden everything became to much to understand then with the sound of rain hitting my window i could finally feel my mind emptying and i was back to myself, as if i was high on a dream I remembered one by one of last night events.

I was at the bonfire with Jungkook and his friends when he and Jimin went in the woods, how unease I felt at the knew informations about his relation with him in that moment deciding to fallow them in the woods only to be meet with the sight of Jungkook body falling on the ground with blood covering his neck as a Jimin stood there in a way I never could imagine.

The red eyes I could swear I’ve seen it before, the same one in my nightmares.

The same ones i dreamed were Jungkook, and the blood dancing on their lips.

All i could think was how much had i lost my mind to project such nightmare on Jungkook and Jimin, him out of every person i knew. The thought made me sick and i wish i could understand why that was happening to me, worried i might have actually gone insane.

By the moment I had collected my thoughts my head was spinning and I quickly got up, rushing to the bathroom to take my meds and throw some water on my face.

Everything that happened last night was a complete mess, what was supposed to be a fun night between friends was flipped insanely into another nightmare of mine.

All i could think now was Jungkook, what could have happen after i blank out last night. I stil couldn’t understand how i got back home, what could have happen to my friend and who did that to him.

My hands were shaking as I searched for my phone it was still so early in the morning, the sun has bearly appear although you couldn’t really tell as the dark gray skies covered Spring Villa in rain, after finding it I quickly called Jungkook to make sue he was okay but every time it went straight to voicemail.

Growing worried each time i spear no more time to leave my room running down the stairs without a single thou in my mind as I exit the house.

Not him.

I kept repeating that in my head.

I felt desperate, not even sure what I should do in that moment I just hoped in my bike and made my way to the only place i knew someone would be able to tell me what in the hell happened to Jungkook, his oldest friend mansion on the west of Spring Villa.

I have no idea where he could be right now and if someone knew what happened that night it has to be Hoseok and I hoped I could find them at their house, i didnt know who else to turn to right now and it only made my feel more helpless. My friend could be in danger and all i could do was find someone else to do something about it.

Tears were forming under my eyes the cold weather as usual was enough to make me shake under it, rushing through the empty streets a light rain began falling as if on quote Spring Villa was back to its grey days.

I passed a few police cars and an ambulance closer to were the bonfire happened last night, I couldn’t help the immediate stop watching as they closed half the road with yellow tape. Just then a the sky roared in anger, a light thunder shined above us as if to say something.

A few people who watched closely to were I had stopped were gossiping about what I thought would never happen again in this shitty town, but under all of their usual comments and half ass words of comfort to the people around there was one that felt like a punch in my stomach blurring anything else they were saying was the phrase;

“They found a body of a young man on the woods”

With a racing heart I rushed past them, repeating in my mind prayers - please not him.

After a long while I spotted the old mansion on the west hill, my legs were hurting from biking around so fast. My body cold from the rain, I couldn’t think about anything else besides him. The possibility that someone so close to me turned out to be the monster in my dreams.

It never one occurred to me to go their house before, it was never something I felt comfortable with and Jungkook never invited me over. I never questioned it I wasn’t the type to push someone about their lives, we build our friendship over our trust with each other . I knew who he was and he knew about me, we had that and it was enough.

But now after last night I felt desperate, he hasn’t returned my calls and even though it was so early I had to make sure he was fine. Especially when the serial killer was back.

I quickly made my way towards the entrance nocking on the heavy wooden door, I waited before moving once again impatiently I felt my self grow even more worried.

Before I could nock a third time the door was open revealing a tall men with red hair and amber eyes, I stood there staring into his eyes fist still mid air In front of me embarrassing.

“yes?” he blurted, voice deep almost like a growl as he looked me up and down no expression on his face.

It didn’t go unnoticed by me how he clearly was inspecting my presence there with judging eyes, then I realized he was still in his sleeping clothes feeling my embarrassment grow even more for waking him up so early with my sudden presence but i had a reason for coming here and despite everything else I held up the courage to speak up.

“is Jungkook here?” i questioned, trying my best not to let any of my insecurities shine through. Still feeling the awkwardness

“who’s asking?” he then asked, a bored look on his features. The awkwardness was stone cold.

I almost groaned out at his words, something bad must’ve happened to Jungkook and he was playing around as if everything was completely fine. My body was begging to grow hot with anger.

“I’m y/n, his friend…” i rushed the words, feeling more impatient at his calmness. “is he here? Is he okay?”

Before he could say anything the door opened fully and to my relief it was Hoseok, just like the men with red hair he too was still in his sleeping clothes confused as he walked to me.

“y/n? what are you doing here so early?” he mumble, voice deeper then usual and a bit hoarse.

“I’m sorry it’s just…. about last night when I saw Jungkook… he-“ I couldn’t even mutter the words without feeling a hole swallow me from my chest.

“hey it’s okay, Tae go back I’ll take care of her” he spoke to the red haired man, making his way closer to me holding my shoulders carefully.

The red haired men looked at me before giving Hoseok a nod turning on his heels to go back inside, the door was shut closed leaving me out alone with Hoseok who seemed a bit more worried this time.

“Hoseok what in the world happened last night?”

“I’ll tell you come here” he pulled me towards the side but i stood there growing anxious, I can’t wait any longer for an explanation. He looked into my eyes as if realizing exactly what i meant. “you blackout in the woods last night.”

“yeah I know that but Jungkook…” I interrupt, nothing about me was important to me.

“he took you home” he blurted

“he did? But…”

“listen y/n, we were having fun last night then you black out in the woods and Jungkook was searching for you everywhere” he carry on explaining, and I couldn’t believe it or i just didnt know what to believe in anymore. “when we found you he immediately brought you back home.”

“but I saw…”

“what?”

Was it all in my head then?

He had no reason to lie to me about such thing, still it didnt felt right what he was saying. I knew what I saw last ight, despite all the alcohol and my meds i knew i saw Jungkook being attacked by something or someone.

But if Jungkook was fine as Hoseok said then, all of this was just another illusion. What I saw last night wasn’t real. I was falling into that miserable trap in my head, I couldn’t help but feel completely lost as darkness fell upon my back.

I’ve been acting out of my mind this whole time without a care in the world, trespassing boundaries by coming here like a crazy woman asking for Jungkook to some of his friends when he was safe and sound.

“I’m so sorry Hoseok I just…. I heard about a body found in the woods” I tell him “he didn’t answer my calls so I was worried something happened to him.”

I decided to tell him what made me worried enough to come all the way here, leaving out the fact that i was mentally unstable and had a nightmare with his friend so real i thought he was dead.

He gave me an apologetic smile.

“is okay… you were just worried about him” he replied.

I watched as he looked at me with those eyes, the same ones everyone else did when they got a glimpse into my turbulent mind. I hated that more then anything and the fact he was now staring into my eyes with the same look mad me realize he might as well just be like everybody else, and I felt a crack in my heart.

“can you tell him to call me then, please I need to talk to him” I mumbled, looking down unable to meet his eyes.

“of course y/n…” he gave me a small hug “you should rest now is still pretty early in the morning, I’ll make sure he calls you as soon as I see him.”

“yes, im sorry Hoseok for showing up like this…” looking everywhere but his face, a need to run awa creeping into my mind.

“is okay, I understand where you’re coming from y/n” he answered softly.

I didnt spear another look at his direction as i turned on my heels to leave. That was my walk of shame back home and I didn’t know if i would ever be able to look into his face again without feeling completely embarrassed. I almost let it slip my worst nightmare, most people from Spring Villa already knew about my past and i didnt wanted to more people to find out about it. It burned almost, how much that part of me contributed to my own down fall but there was nothing i could do about it. I had tried everything I could and nothing ever seems to work. My mind has been playing games over me for so long, I should’ve known it was all in my head before packing and going to their home.

I was worried for what I saw and all of it wasn’t even real, just a coincidence.

I sighted looking at my own self in front of my small bathroom mirror, tired eyes and messy hair all over the place. I took a good look at my self feeling more pathetic the more i looked, i was tired. Physically and mentally.

It honestly took me so long to leave the bathroom, to get out of my head. This illusions ive been heaving ever since my brother left the world, this nightmares i thought were gone but now were back stronger then ever took everything i had.

I sat down in bed, the small container with meds in my hand. The rain continued to pour down outside, the darkness slowly rising more above in the skies just like my heart it was almost unbearable to tolerate all of this conscious, taking the meds in one gulp i waited for the effects to start and so on slowly my body began to drift into the deep sleep.

For once, let me sleep without a single dream in mind. No more nightmares.

But the pills stopped working a long time ago.

I walked a dark path of a long corridor, my stpes were muffled by a red carpet that fallowed the floors of the corridor.

I wasnt tired.

I wasnt running.

No one was coming to get me, my heart beat calmly on my chest and nothing happened.

I could see some lighter further ahead on the left and fallowed till im inside a big room, the enormous fireplace illuminated the room and from the fire i could make out two couches on each side and a small tea table between them.

My attention was focused on a painting above the fireplace which i could tell was the “The fall of rabel angels” from Pieter Bruegel the Elder.

The sudden deep chuckle behind me makes me turn around quickly, fear rising up my chest but i see nothing. Taking steps slowly closer to the fireplace until I feel myself collide with someone, turning on my heels im meet with amber eyes and a re haired men.

The fire burned brighter behind him and in an abrupt movement he takes me by the neck, turning my self aaround so my back is against his body he holding my chin forcing me to look into his amber eyes as i watch them slowly fade into red crimson.

“don’t worry, this wont hurt…”

Was all he mumbles into my face before showing his fangs, an almost demonic face staring into mine i could feel my whole body panicking colder then ever felt.

I could still hear his deep laugh as i lost consciousness, eyes feeling so heavy being forced to open as my body shakes in his arms. I was abruptly woken up cold sweat sliding down my neck making me feel even more uncomfortable, the loud noise of my phone ringing waking me up fully.

I took it not looking who’s the caller.

“hello?” my voice was still muffled and raspy, throat dry.

“y/n? Are you okay?” jungkooks rushed voice said on the other side.

I felt my whole body immediately wake up at the sound of his voice. He was okay.

I didnt know what to say in that moment it felt unreal but i was so relieved to finally hear his voice, everything seemed to fall back to its place in that moment.

“I’m fine, i was so worried about you….” i tell him honestly “I’m so sorry i even went to your house.”

He chuckled and i cold almost picture his teasingly smiling.

“i know that…. I’m flattered you care that much for me” he said.

“how could i not? You are my best friend.”

“I know. Sorry I made you worry that much, i wont do that again kitten.”

I looked at the clock on my nightstand as it marked half past nine, stomach rumbles in hunger. An entire day has gone already and invent had single bite of food.

“oh my was that an alien?” he said, a deep laughter coming from the other side of the line.

“you heard that?” I exclaimed embarrassed, cheeks hitting up.

“hard not to, have you not feed the family of aliens in your stomach?” he playfully says, I could definitely picture the grin he had on his face as he said that.

“i will right now…” i groaned.

“yes do that, ill see you tomorrow at the grill?”

“yeah… text me the time” i tell him.

“will do boss, bye.”

“bye, Jungkook.”

With that i hung up the call, feeling the smile grow on my face.

For as much as my nightmares and illusions bring the bitterness of me i could always count on Jungkook to change that, he was always able to filter out all of that darkness from my heart.

Hearing my stomach roar in hunger again i’d decide to finally commit to feeding it, feeling completely refreshed now knowing my best friend was fine and safe i made my way downstairs to get some food.

The sight i saw as I went downstairs was almost enough to make me regret it completely my decision and alsmot go back to my room, watching as my mother sat in the couch with one of her boyfriends drinking beer as they’re watched a football match smoke do cigarettes filling the small tv room.

I felt like throwing up but I wouldn’t let this be the end of my day, taking my purse i took the back door and decided to go have dinner at the one place i knew would be opened this late. The Grill.

The light rain hasn’t stopped since it started today, deep in my heart I knew the air in Srping Villa had changed again. A feeling I was hoping I would never felt again ever since this small town was turned upside down, but all was gone.

My thoughts were in pieces and for at least the end of this night I just wanted to forget everything and enjoy a meal.

That was my only concern the moment I sat down in on of the tables close to the bar at the Grill, French fries in front of me and a cup with coffee. The only thing they would serve at this late night but o was grateful for it.

I was quietly eating my fries listening to the low voices around me, there were only a few people at the Grill tonight. Certainly the accident that happened last night did shaken some sense into people’s minds for once, a reminder that this place was not only a tourist attraction but it had its stories.

I dared to look up once I was almost finished eating my food, inmost chocking upon the scene a few tables away from mine on the corner.

There was the red haired men I meet earlier at Jungkooks house and Jimin, they seemed to be in a fun chat with two girls sitting between the two of them.

I could see how Jimin would push aside the hair of the girl beside him, clearly expressing flirtatious acts towards her.

It would take a genius to understand what was happening there, knowing it isn’t made me feel any better too.

As they got up and walked to the exit I tired my best to hide my presence, not waning to make anything more difficult.

Watching as Jiminclosed one arm around the girls neck, as they left the Grill.

I still remember Hoseoks words at the bonfire last night, that couldn’t be my minds doing. I knew he told me Jimin and Jungkook had something going on together and that was what made me even more uneasy.

If they do then why would Jimin be going out with that girl?

Why would he do such thing to Jungkook?

I immediately scensored myself, it’s none of my business I shouldn’t be even thinking about such things.

But as his friend also, I should at least make sure I’m no just jumping to wrong conclusions. I could be just misunderstanding what was happening.

Not daring much to overthink it I got up making my way to the exit, I was afraid I might’ve lose them by now but they were still close by. Walking a few feet behind them making sure to keep a good distance I fallowed as they walked around the night streets, so far nothing had happened.

Once I saw them take another turned I stoped - this is wrong, I shouldn’t be fallowing them like this.

With a sight I turned back to leave but ended up crashing with someone else.

“I’m so sorry….”

I mumbled turning around before harshly being pulled back.

“Hey!” I stare angrily at the girl who pulled me back.

The girls says nothing at first, she had grin on her face as she looks at me up and down. She didn’t look like someone from around here and I sure never saw here in town before, the girl was taller then as she wore heels, a dress glued to her body and a jacket over it.

“Watch your tone little girl… you’re no match for me” the girl says, taking a step closer to me till she’s nearly a centimeter away.

The more I stared at her the more I stared to feel a dimly tingling sensation over my body, it was making me feel colder and uncomfortable. I could feel my brain screaming and gut in unison for me to run, that something didn’t felt right. But I was paralyzed in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to speak or move.

“Well since your here… let’s make this the best of it, hum?” The girl pulled me by the wrist.

I try to pull away from her grip but I was suddenly struck by a painful feeling as she bite into my wrist, a loud groan comes out of my mouth as I feel her sharp teeth rip through my skin.

Her eyes where completely black as she stared at me, I try to fight her, to pull her back but it was impossible she was so much stronger.

In that moment all I could hear was my own heart pounding in my chest, my entire body was shivering and my legs were shaking. The pain burned through my entire arm.

It was so fast that I could nearly process the moment the girl was ripped off my arm, I fall to my knees breathing quickly as I look up to the red haired men I saw this morning holding her against the wall by the neck.

I looked the red hair in panic, but I couldn’t tell who he was anymore. A chill spreads down my spine as his eyes were no longer the amber color I knew but red just like blood, in a second he bit into the girls neck and I watched in horror as blood splattered across the air, the girl groan out in pain and I looked away as the sounds of flesh being ripped off continued. No, this can’t be real - i begged.

It’s just another illusion of my mind, I’m sure I’m heaving another dream.

I could feel my whole body shake with my have breathing, heart racing faster by the seconds I was completely losing myself into panic.

Holding tighter to my burning arm, blood wetting the surface of my shirt and everything around it. The smell of it was getting stronger, something I knew but wasn’t used to it.

It wasn’t until I felt a grip into my shoulder that was able to move again.

“no!” i exclaimed, fearing it was red hair now ready to end me aswell but i felt myself slowly calming as im meet with Jimins worried expression.

“it’s okay y/n….” he murmured. “it’s me y/n.”

He helped me get back up on my feet, hands holding my shoulders he looked into my eyes.

“i’m so sorry for this” he said.

My eyes looked behind him were the red hair men stood, blood dripping down his lips as he smirked.

I didn’t know what to say, my mind was blank in that moment I didn’t know what was real.

“oh no… you’re…”Jimin said between pauses looking down at my arm “hurt…”

He sounded much lower and I notice the change in his eyes the moment he looked at me bloody arm, how hos brown eyes faded into red crimson pointy fangs showing.

“what happened here?!”

I blinked a couple times before looking up at the worried face of my best friend.

“Jungkook?” I called breathless.

Upon Jungkooks voice I felt myself wake up fully, and with that came the realization of the situation.

I pushed Jimin away rushing towards Jungkook and almost falling over my own feet, feeling my body getting colder and vision blurring.

He quickly catches me and I let myself be immersed into his warmth.

Leaning away I searched for his eyes.

“what is happening kook?” I asked.

He sighted looking at the two men behind me.

“opsie…” even without looking I could tell that wa the red haired men, his mocking deep voice.

“I’ll explain everything y/n I just need to make sure you’re…” he stopped, looking down between us to my arm.

I stared in panic as his eyes faded into bloody red eyes.

They were all the same.

“you’re hurt…” he said.

I feared I had lost myself completely in my insanity but this felt too real to be another illusion form my mind, too painful to be unreal.

The same as I saw in all my nightmares.

“Jungkook…. What are you?”

…..

Notes: this is it for the first part of the story, taglist? Comment if you want to be tagged! I love you guys hope you like this one, until the next one! 🫶☺️

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Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 5

Note: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 (completed)

(Also, all the moodboards are edited by me therefore I request everyone not to repost them as theirs)

[OT7]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Nothing New by myg-butterfly

Pairing: Ot7! BTS x Choreographer! Reader (Seokjin x Reader focused) Genre: ANGST, eventual fluff, Injured!Reader Summary: You get hurt and have to find a replacement. You just didn't think that replacement extended to your relationship with the BTS members. Will they still want you when you're nothing new?

{SERIES}

➺ The List by inthelow [ONGOING]

Pairing: fashion girl f!reader x ot7! BTS Genre: literally porn with a plot; a lil fluff but mostly smut and crack Parts: 1/8 Summary: after finding out that some girls have a list of their hookups and how they rank them on different aspects, the boys are eager to know their scores and show you how they can be better than the others.

➺ Peculiar Pack by daydreamindollie [ONGOING]

— pairing: poly hybrid bts x f.reader — genre: fluff, poly!au, hybrid! au — parts: 9/17 (The parts are not connected. It is an unsystematic catalog of poly hybrid bts x f.reader imagines) — summary: you're a successful hybrid writer and psychologist, who takes in seven hybrids one stormy night after finding one of their pack stealing from your garden

➺ War of Hearts by namjooningelsewhere [ONGOING]

✽Pairing - OT7 x reader (DJ) and OT7 x Lily ✽Ratings - 18+ ✽Genre(s) - Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff, mentions of smut. ✽parts: 9 parts updated ✽Summary- You’ve been lurking in the shadows, protecting the seven of Bangtan even if it means you must give your own life. After all, that’s what you do when you are in love with someone irrevocably. That pain seems to be minuscule in light of their safety. But it was never about you, for all you are is a speck of dust in the universe they have created for them and their girlfriend. Your heart’s at war, but it’s fine, you can smile through the pain as long as it means they smile- for her.

➺ Chantaje by numinousher

pairing: ceo!bts x actress!reader (poly!au) genre: fluff, angst, ceo au, extremely powerful ceo’s that they get their hands dirty (by having someone killed) parts: 29/29 summary: being under the watchful eye of the media and your fans, your managers are in desperate need of regaining back your popularity after other influencers who hate you cause mayhem to your life. what best way to do so by having you pretend to be in a relationship with the popular 7 who are known to be intensely wealthy and stoic? will you be able to regain their trust or will they go with their promise of damaging your reputation even more?

➺ The Little Fox by purpleyoonn

Pairing: eventual polyBTS x hybrid reader Genre: hybrid au! fluff, angst, poly, mentions of abo, slow-burn, eventual smut Parts: 18/18 + Drabbles Summary: Just as you escaped the Little Fox, a bidding house, you find yourself at war with your thoughts, not wanting to go to another shelter. You didn’t expect yourself to find a home anywhere, especially not with the men who found you, and their pack. “The idea of being free was a foreign concept. Being free meant having choices, having opportunities. Being a hybrid meant never being free.”

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ On With The Show by Joheunsaram

pairing- retired bassist!Namjoon x lawyer!Reader rating- R genre- rockstar!au, s2f2l, fluff, smut, angst, slight slow burn, single dad!au word count- 33.9k summary: Eight years after announcing their retirement, Dark & Wild seems to have been left behind. For Namjoon, he could never forget the time his dreams became a reality, and he's determined to retake the charts by storm once again. Struggling with raising a teenage daughter, the loss of his wife and poor writing projects with terrible bands, he’s now had enough. So with a little help from the only remaining active fan site, he embarks on a mission to convince his bandmates that a comeback might not be the mid life crisis they think it is.

➺ Breaking The Ice by raplinesmoon

pairing: hockey player! namjoon x f. reader genre/au: ice hockey au, college au, roommates au / smut, fluff, slow burn rating: explicit/18+ summary: after last season, namjoon knows he can’t afford anymore mishaps. when you show up on namjoon’s doorstep looking to share his apartment, he thinks it couldn’t be more perfect. medical school has you even busier than he is, but what happens when what used to be the perfect arrangement turns into a bigger distraction than either of you bargained for? word count: 911 {I couldn't really find the complete fic but this teaser can itself be enjoyed as a cute standalone}

➺ Emotions of the Soul by oddinary4bts

☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader ☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI) ☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff ☆word count: 36.3k ☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

{SERIES}

➺ To be loved by taevbears

⤑ pairing: Namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ parts: 5/5 ⤑ summary: Here's where she meets prince charming.

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Forever by oddinary4bts

☆pairing: Kim Seokjin x female reader ☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI) ☆genre: ex-fiancés to lovers, idol!au, angst, smut, fluff ☆word count: 25.2k ☆summary: three years ago, your relationship with jin ended in fights and tears. When life puts him back on your path, you catch a glimpse of light in his eyes that you thought had died when you broke up. Will your relationship blossom into a well-deserved forever or will you lose the love of your life again?

➺ Very Familiar by Champagneher

pairing: kim seokjin x reader based on: being jin's girlfriend brings good moments with the members as well. genre: established relationship, fluff, jin and reader acting like a married couple, low-key they're already married. warnings: just fluff.

➺ Already Mine by i-am-baechu

Pairing: Dad! Seokjin x Mom! Reader Genre: Lovers to strangers!, strangers to lovers!, office worker! Seokjin, stay at home mom! reader, established relationship, fluff, angst, and smut Summary: “I do.” Two simple words that changed her whole world. The man that gave her love that she never had before and a child that looked just like him with her eyes, a story for the ages. It wasn’t until the mornings changed and the warmth he once had turned cold. Nothing made sense but at the same time everything did. All she wanted was him but maybe that's not what he wants...

➺ Fools by namfinessed

pairing: seokjin x reader genre: angst, fluff, strangers to lovers wordcount: 6.7k summary: only fools fall for you. (fools!universe)

➺ In you, I lay by namfinessed

pairing: Seokjin x reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers wordcount: 7.8k summary: one night was all you needed to come back to him or a story in which love grows where seokjin goes, and you can’t help but follow.

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Roll & Dice {M} by lostberet

Synopsis: Your parents never approved of your boyfriend. Your dad loves his car, your boyfriend loves to win, and you love to celebrate his victories. Genre: smut racer boyfriend!yoongi, established relationship, racer au, inspired by fast and furious kinda, ODETARI inspired, slight age gap (reader is 19, yoongi is 22).

➺ Dad!Yoongi Scenario by sevenforeverbulletproof-deactiv

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life Summary: His son calls to tell him you've got a fever

➺ fxck a fxckboy [M] by yoongifis

; pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi ; genre: smut (18+), pwp, jealous yoongi ; wc: 11k+ ; summary: where you sort of hooked up with one of the school’s biggest fuckboys but end up leaving him hanging and never contacting him because…well…why not? somehow the universe brought you two together and now you’re left with dealing with him because he apparently caught feelings for you.

➺ What's Up, Doc? by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Idol! Yoongi x Veterinarian! Reader WordCount: 9.8k Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff Synopsis: "Yoongi (11:49) - Too many to list, maybe I should tell you them in person.  Doc (11:56) - Some would say that it’s a bit late but I’m more of a night person. Gwanmunsijang-5-gil."

{SERIES}

➺ bbydaddy!yoongi by muniimyg

Pairing: Yoongi x fem! reader Genre: accidental pregnancy au, fluff, nsfw Parts: 20/20

➺ Enigma by neonlights92

Pairing: Mafia! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Arranged Marriage au, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff Parts: 6/6 Synopsis: After the death of your father leaves you in a lot of a debt to Bangtan - Seoul’s most nefarious crime syndicate - you are offered a way out:  marry Min Yoongi - Bangtan’s most elusive member-  and produce him an heir and your father’s debt will be forgotten.  Without a choice, you are soon tied to a man who you are absolutely terrified of.  But you cannot ignore the part of you that is thrilled by Yoongi.  And what scares you the most isn’t the blood on his hands, or the gun he always carries in his pocket.  It’s the things he’s capable of doing to your heart.

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Coffee [M] by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Idol! Hoseok x Stylist! Reader WordCount: 7.8k Genre: Fluff, Smut Synopsis: "It's about how a cup of coffee can change someone's life. How someone can find their home in a person."

➺ Step Back by Champagneher

PAIRING | f!reader x idol!hoseok BASED ON | How dare she come back and try to steal your man? GENRE | established relationship, fluff WARNINGS | Jealousy, swear words.

➺ Defining Heaven by akinnie75

Pairing: J-hope x Reader Genre: Fluff, Slow Burn, Romance, Angst Word Count: 24k Summary: “If I try to fly, will I make it to heaven, or will I fall straight down? But what exactly is heaven?” It’s a question that’s been in Hoseok’s mind a lot after cutting ties with his parents and ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. Dreaming is his fear, but you tell him that it’s not as scary as he thinks it is. Even in the depths of his own despair, you reach your hand out, but will he take it?

{SERIES}

➺ Charred by neonlights92

Pairing: Mafia! Hoseok x Reader Genre: Arranged Marriage au, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff, Smut Parts: 7/7 Synopsis: Jung Hoseok never thought he would find love.  So when his wife - the woman he has somehow fallen madly in love with - leaves him for somebody else he is heartbroken. Of course, Bangtan waits for no one.  Soon Hoseok is roped into yet another marriage, and this time he’s determined to keep himself safe. When the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with runs away with Jung Hoseok’s wife, you find yourself suddenly tied to a man you think is a monster.  But beneath the darkness in Hoseok’s eyes is a warmth you can’t help but yearn for.  Perhaps love truly does work in mysterious ways.

➺ Where Do Broken Hearts Go? by back2bluesidex

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.  Theme: Angst, drama, eventual smut, fluff.  Parts: 7/7 + drabbles Warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of cheating, broken relationship, reader is suffering so bad, pining, more will be added to each part.  Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

➺ College social media Au by notevenagoodgirl

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Roommates Au Parts: 80/80 Summary: An AU where Hoseok and Y/N don’t really get along even though they’re in the same group of friends. What happens when shitty roommates and monthly bills bring them closer than ever?

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Important Ass-et [M] by lavienjin

pairing: CEO! Jimin x employee! reader word count: 8,489 genre/au: office romance au, coworkers to lovers (?) | smut Summary: You've been tasked with a very important job that you absolutely can't fuck up. After a long day at work, you're at your wit's end, and who better to end the evening with than your boss?

➺ Flirt Buddies by jimilter

pairing: jimin x reader wc: 1.4k genre: humor | fluff | frenemies(?) to lovers!au | college!au summary: A mean girl pestering you is what it takes for you and Jimin to move further with the flirting going on between you two for months now. Who would’ve thunk?

➺ Call and Response by youtifulhobi

➴ Pairing: EMT/paramedic! Jimin x doctor! reader ➴ WC: 4.1k  ➴ Warnings: minor character death, grieving, crying ➴ Genre: e2l, angst, fluff, coworkers, hospitals, h/c, mutual pining that both YN and Jimin refuse to acknowledge but show in petty arguments ➴ Summary: Park Jimin is the bane of your existence, but also the receiver of your begrudging respect. He’s the one you love to hate, except…maybe he’s not as bad as you thought. Maybe.

➺ The Trials and Tribulations of a Mcflurry by btsmosphere

~pairing: jimin x reader ~word count: 1.9k ~genre: devil!jimin, established relationship, crack ~summary: hell is great, but what does a girl have to do to get a mcflurry around here?

➺ Brand New Eyes [M] by missgeniality

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader ➺ Trope: Idol!AU, Established Relationship ➺ Genre: Smut ➺ Word Count: 1.8k ➺ Summary: Jimin's eyes had potential to ruin you, and tonight you test the damage.

➺ Snow Don't Tell by stutterfly

❄ Word Count: 27.2k ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader ❄ Genre:  Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor ❄ Granny Park’s Gossip: Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly, and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks, and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t. 

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Marshmallows and Report Cards [M] by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Single Dad!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader WordCount: 7.6k Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Fluff, Smut Synopsis: "Peppermint or marshmallows?" He questions as he reaches the back of the room.  "Marshmallows." You tell him before bowing your head. "A woman after my own heart. Y/N, take care." He goes to bow his head before being tugged out of the room by his daughter.

➺ Seventeenth Century Girls by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Single Dad!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader WordCount: 1 k Genre: Fluff, Crack, Drabble Synopsis: “Why is your mother like a seventeenth-century feminist icon and I’m like an English chef that yells at people? Because I own a restaurant?!” Based In The World of: Marshmallows and Report Cards

➺ Get You The Moon [M] by bymoonchild

Pairing | Taehyung x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, football!AU,  jock!Taehyung x student reporter! OC Word count | 19.6k  Summary | Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks, and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate.

{SERIES}

➺ Monster by neonlights92

Pairing: Mafia! Taehyung x Reader Genre: Arranged Marriage au, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff Parts: 6/6 Synopsis: You live in a world dominated by monsters.  Monsters who make it their life’s work to control everything around them.  When you’re forced to marry Kim Taehyung - the indecipherable son of the leader of Bangtan, Seoul’s most feared gang - you are at first afraid of him.  But as you learn what it means to be Taehyung’s wife you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him.

[JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Peregrination by untaemedqueen

Pairing: jungkook x reader ft. ot6 Genre: friends to lovers, angst, fluff Revelation (n.) -   a surprising and previously unknown fact, especially one that is made known dramatically. {I'm not sure how to explain this, but after reading this chapter, I discovered that "Peregrination" is a series. I tried looking for the entire series to read it in full, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Even though it’s a series, this chapter can still be enjoyed as a standalone one-shot.}

➺ The Second by untaemedqueen

Pairing: husband! Jungkook x wife! reader Genre: pregnancy au, angst, fluff Synopsis: Jungkook and the reader are becoming parents for the second time however they're both scared because their first child was a preemie!. An argument erupts when the reader reveals her pregnancy, and Jungkook yells at her for the first time, expressing his fear for her safety. However, when he hears her crying, he instantly regrets his outburst.

➺ Interruption [M] by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Husband!Jeongguk x Pregnant Wife!Reader Genre: fluff, smut Synopsis: Jeongguk is dying to have sex with his wife while she's pregnant but his son keeps getting in the way. Based in the world of: The Second

{SERIES}

➺ bbydaddy!jk by muniimyg

Pairing: jungkook x fem! reader Genre: exes au, fluff, nsfw Parts: 30/30 + drabbles

➺ Angel in the Darkness [M] by icyhobi

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically) Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au  Word Count: 5,468 Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

➺ Brown-eyed Baby by jeonstudios

synopsis: a lost child at the mall. eyes from a different time. pairing: single dad!jk x reader genre: exes 2 (friends 2) lovers, smut, angst, fluff. word count: 11.4k parts: 2/2

[borathae]

“They’ve seen the centuries come and go, watched empires rise and fall and witnessed the creation of society as it is today. And now you have fallen into their arms, showing them once again that change never stops.”

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Hurt and Comfort, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU, Polyamory!AU

“You change universities after moving towns. Your new university is an old, ancient building with secret tunnels and whispered ghost stories. There are two fraternities, which for some reason always seem to be in a quarrel. Alpha consisting of Kim Taehyung, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin and Min Yoongi. Handsome, porcelain skinned men, who act as if they are out of another century and for some reason everyone on campus seems to be scared of. And Sanguis consisting of Jeon Jungkook, Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok. Men with skin just as pale and their faces just as beautiful, who always wear sunglasses when it is light outside and who never seem to open their curtains. And for some peculiar reason you always find yourself in the middle of them….”

Pairing: OT7 x f.Reader with main Taehyung x f.Reader & Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Mystery, Fantasy, Romance, Smut, University!AU, Vampire!AU

《 To Book One 》

“When your endless game of hide and seek with Namjoon sends your little group all over Europe, you have to fight more than just vengeful witches and bloodthirsty demons. Different morals, beliefs and mindsets bring just as much struggle to your bond as your enemies. And soon you have to accept that the world you decided to live in is darker than you initially prepared for.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader, Taehyung x f.Reader & Jungkook x f.Reader + more as the story progresses

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU

《 To Book Two 》

“You and your lovers visit The Plains, a magical realm created for the souls of witches and warlocks and home of your dear grandmother. She welcomes you with raspberry pie and tea. You come with many stories to tell and eager hands to help on her cottage. Golden sunlight, blue moonshine and green forests await you alongside early morning snuggles and late night kisses with your lovers.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader, Jungkook x f.Reader, Taehyung x f.Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook, Taehyung x Jungkook, platonic Yoongi x Taehyung

Genre: Magic!AU, Vampire!AU, Polyamory!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff, Romance, Smut, this is a spin-off meant to be read after the Duology

《 To the Spin-Off 》

#01 - What You Deserve [YG x JK]

#02 - The Piano Teacher [YG x OC]

#03 - Only For You ([YG x OC]

#04 - Mellifluous [TH x OC]

#05 - Safe Hands [YG x OC]

#06 - Rache [TH x JK]

#07 - Captured [YG x OC]

#08 - Illecebra [TH x OC] ​

#09 - How I Love You [YG x OC]

#10 - Stormy Nights [YG x OC]

#11 - Of Simpler Times [TH x JM]

#12 - Best Seat [YG x OC]

#13 - Deep [JK]

#14 - Painted Blue [TH x OC]

#15 - Drunk on You [YG x OC]

#16 - I Want Your Love Forever [YG x OC]

#17 - Between Friends [YG x HS]

#18 - Bed Head [JK x OC]

#19 - Don’t Tease Please [JK x OC]

#20 - Fade into You [YG x OC]

#21 - Rope Bunny [YG x OC]

#22 - Lavender Warmth [YG x OC]

#23 - The Scholar, The Princess and the Master [YG x OC x JK]

#24 - Picnics [YG x OC x JK]

#25 - Where Love Is [YG x OC]

#26 - Wake Up Call [YG x OC]

#27 - Devotion [TH x OC]

#28 - Bewitched [YG x OC]

#29 - wanna see myself inside you [JK x OC]

#30 - Princess Treatment [YG x OC]

#31 - Guilty Tears [TH x OC]

#32 - Moonlight & Campsites [YG x OC]

#33 - ILY [YG x OC]

#34 - Morning Hours [JK x OC]

#35 - Silly Fights [YG x OC]

#36 - Carefree [YG & TH]

#37 - Cozy Times [YG x OC]

#38 - Drive You Fucking Crazy [TH x OC]

#39 - FWB [HS x OC]

#40 - A Good Life [YG x OC]

#41 - Impatient [JK x TH]

#42 - Love Wins All [TH x OC]

#43 - Cozy [YG x OC]

#44 - Listen In [HS x JK x TH]

#45 - moonlight [TH x OC]

#46 - Stardust [ TH x JK]

#47 - Protective [TH x JK]

#48 - Babybun [YG x OC x JK]

#49 - Just Relax [YG x HS]

#50 - Tenderness [JM & OC]

#51 - Creamer [YG x TH]

#52 - Shut You Up [JK x OC]

#53 - Double is Best [YG x OC x HS]

#54 - Fuck Yourself [JK x OC] 

#55 - Used [TH x OC]

#56 - Grateful [YG x OC x JK]

#57 - Good Doll [TH x JK]

#58 - Prove It [YG x OC]

#59 - Cozy Nights [YG x OC x JK]

#60 - Rainy Mornings [YG x OC]

#61 - Birthday Boy [HS x OC]

#62 - Red Shirt [JK x OC]

[tatumrileyslover]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 ℜ𝔬𝔬𝔪

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔴𝔬

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: vampire!AU, victorian!AU, strangers to lovers, slow burn, forbidden love, eventual light smut, angst, gothic,

Warnings: blood, death, smut, manipulation, possessive behavior, mild violence, angst, hurt/ comfort, fluff, gaslighting.

Word count: 30k

Summary: In a grand countryside estate, where roses bloom with unnatural darkness, a mysterious stranger appears seeking shelter. Park Jimin, with his otherworldly beauty and cultured charm, quickly becomes an intimate companion to the Baron's daughter. But as girls in the village begin falling mysteriously ill and strange dreams plague her nights, she discovers his dark nature - and must choose between the warmth of mortal days or an eternal night in his arms.

a/n: ok so this isn't meant to be in two parts I just hit the tumblr limit so this is the second part.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢

Weeks had passed since that afternoon in the blue room. Autumn had deepened around the estate, the roses in the garden finally surrendering to the season's inevitable decay. Their relationship had shifted too - something unspoken now lingered between them, making each encounter feel charged with possibility.

Jimin still appeared only in late afternoon, his door remaining firmly locked until the sun began its westward descent. But when he did emerge, his attention to her grew more intense, more possessive. His cool touches lingered longer, his dark eyes following her every movement with an almost predatory focus.

It was around this time that (Y/n) first noticed the subtle changes in herself. Nothing dramatic - just a persistent lethargy that made her eyelids heavy during the day. She found herself drifting off during her morning reading, book sliding from loose fingers as she dozed in patches of wan sunlight.

"You seem tired, my dear," her father observed over breakfast, watching as she picked at her food with unusual disinterest. "Not sleeping well?"

The dreams, she thought but didn't say. Those strange, sweet dreams that left her feeling both drained and oddly euphoric come morning. But how could she explain the weight on her chest each night, the sensation of being watched, cherished, consumed? How to describe the familiar scent - Jimin's scent - that seemed to linger in her room long after she woke?

"Just dreams, Papa," she assured him instead, though 'dreams' wasn't quite the right word for these nightly visitations.

Only in Jimin's presence did she feel truly awake. Their evening conversations in the library or music room became the axis around which her days revolved. He had a way of making her forget her increasing tiredness, his voice acting like a tonic that revived her flagging spirits.

"You look lovely in this light," he would murmur as dusk gathered around them, his cool fingers brushing her cheek with familiar intimacy. If he noticed the slight pallor beneath her skin, the darkening shadows beneath her eyes, he never mentioned it. Instead, his touches grew more tender, more reverent, as if she were something precious becoming ever more rare.

The marks above her breast remained her secret - two small punctures that sometimes faded slightly only to appear darker the next morning. She found herself touching them absently throughout the day, remembering the exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain that accompanied their appearance in her dreams.

Their favorite spot had become the ancient oak by the pond, the same place where she'd read Bertha's letter what felt like a lifetime ago. Now, in the gathering November dusk, Jimin would lead her there with possessive tenderness, mindful of her slightly unsteady steps.

"You should wear warmer clothes," he chided softly one evening, though the chill that made her shiver had little to do with the weather. His arm around her waist was both support and embrace as they settled against the oak's massive roots. "The seasons are changing."

Indeed they were. The pond's surface had become a mirror for dying leaves, crimson and gold drifting like abandoned dreams on the dark water. Everything was changing, including her, though the transformation was so subtle she could almost pretend not to notice.

"Tell me more about your dreams," he would often murmur, pulling her closer against his cool form. The impropriety of such intimacy seemed less important with each passing day. Or perhaps she simply had less energy to maintain proper distance.

"They're becoming clearer," she admitted, watching the last light fade from the sky. "More... real. Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm truly awake or still dreaming."

His fingers traced idle patterns on her palm, each touch sending pleasant shivers up her arm. "Perhaps the divide between dreaming and waking is thinner than most believe. Perhaps some dreams are more true than our waking hours."

She found herself leaning more heavily against him, her energy waning as darkness fell. The lethargy that plagued her days seemed to lift slightly in his presence, yet paradoxically, she felt weaker around him too - as if he both strengthened and drained her.

"You're tired," he observed, his lips brushing her temple. The gesture was both comfort and claim.

"Not tired exactly." How to explain this strange state? This feeling of being somehow less substantial with each passing day, yet more alive than ever in these twilight moments with him? "It's more like... floating. Everything feels distant except..."

"Except?"

"Except you." The confession slipped out unbidden. "You feel more real than anything."

His smile against her skin held secrets. They sat in comfortable silence as true night descended, the stars emerging one by one like curious eyes. From the house came the distant sound of servants lighting lamps, preparing for dinner. Soon Madame Perrodon would come looking for her, clucking with disapproval at finding them alone in the dark.

But for now, there was just this - his cool embrace, the whisper of wind through nearly bare branches, and the strange, sweet lethargy that made everything feel like a beautiful dream she never wanted to wake from.

The dining room blazed with unusual brilliance that evening, extra candles lit to mark the rare occasion of Jimin joining them at table. Crystal glasses caught and fractured the light, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the white tablecloth. Even the servants seemed to move with extra ceremony, though (Y/n) noticed how they avoided meeting Jimin's eyes as they served.

He sat across from her, beautiful and otherworldly in the flickering light. Though he arranged each course with artistic precision on his plate, she rarely caught him actually lifting food to his lips. Yet somehow his plate would end up nearly empty, as if the food had vanished by some strange magic.

"I had another letter from Baron Rheinfeldt today," her father mentioned as the second course was cleared. "Most interesting actually - he's been conducting research into his daughter's case. Apparently there have been similar instances in other regions."

(Y/n) felt rather than saw Jimin's sudden stillness. When she glanced up, his face held only polite interest.

"How fascinating," he murmured, adjusting his untouched wine glass. "Though perhaps such dark topics aren't suitable for dinner conversation?"

"On the contrary," her father continued, oblivious to the subtle tension that had entered the air. "I find it rather compelling. Especially given our own village's troubles. You've heard about the milliner's daughters, I assume? And poor Emma, Marcel's granddaughter?"

"Most unfortunate," Jimin's voice held perfect sympathy. "Though young girls are often... susceptible to mysterious ailments."

Madame Perrodon clicked her tongue softly. "Three girls in one village, all with the same symptoms - it's most unusual. Dr. Werner is quite puzzled by it all."

"Which reminds me," her father turned his attention to (Y/n), who had been pushing a piece of pheasant around her plate. "You're looking rather pale yourself, my dear. Perhaps we should have the doctor-"

"Speaking of health and welfare," Madame Perrodon interjected diplomatically, "have you had any word from your mother, Mr. Park? It's been several weeks now..."

Something flickered across Jimin's perfect features - too quick to catch. "No," he said after a slight pause. "Though I confess I expected as much. Her business often demands... prolonged attention."

"Surely she must be concerned about you," Madame Perrodon interjected, her tone suggesting she found such maternal negligence difficult to comprehend.

"Perhaps it's time I took my leave," Jimin said smoothly, though his eyes fixed on (Y/n) as he spoke. "I've imposed upon your hospitality far too long."

The thought of his departure sent an unexpected pain through (Y/n)'s chest. She must have made some small sound, for his eyes softened almost imperceptibly when they met hers.

"Nonsense," her father replied firmly. "We couldn't possibly let you leave without proper word from your mother. What kind of hosts would that make us? Besides," he added with a warm smile, "you've brought such life to this old house. (Y/n) especially seems brightened by your company."

If he noticed how his daughter flushed at this observation, he gave no sign. Jimin, however, watched the color rise in her cheeks with obvious satisfaction.

"How kind you all are to a stranger," he murmured, though his gaze never left (Y/n)'s face.

"Hardly a stranger now," her father said, gesturing for dessert to be served. "Though I must admit, we know remarkably little about your family, your background..."

The remainder of dinner passed in a curious haze of candlelight and half-finished conversations. (Y/n) barely noticed when dessert was served - some elaborate concoction of cream and berries that Jimin praised but didn't touch. Her attention kept drifting to his hands, the elegant way they moved over silverware he never quite used, the way he seemed to conduct an elaborate performance of dining without actually consuming anything.

As the servants began clearing the last plates, Jimin rose with fluid grace. "Might I request an escort to my room?" he asked (Y/n) directly. "These old houses can be so confusing in the dark."

Before anyone could object to the impropriety, he added, "Madame Perrodon, you'll accompany us of course?"

The French woman nodded, though something in her expression suggested she'd rather not. As they left the dining room, (Y/n) could feel her father's eyes following them, his earlier warmth now tempered with paternal concern.

They ascended the grand staircase together, Madame Perrodon following at a careful distance, her candle casting their shadows long against the darkened walls. Though it was Jimin ostensibly being escorted to his room, their steps somehow led them to (Y/n)'s chambers instead. If Madame Perrodon disapproved of this deviation, she kept her silence, taking up her usual position in the doorway - close enough to observe, far enough to allow conversation.

The familiar space of (Y/n)'s room felt different with Jimin in it, as if his presence transformed the everyday into something more mysterious. He moved to the window seat where she so often sat watching for carriages, his figure silhouetted against the night sky. Moonlight silvered his profile, making him look more like a painting than a person.

"You never speak of yourself," (Y/n) said softly, settling into her chair. "Of your life before..."

"No," he agreed, his voice taking on a dreamy, distant quality. "Some memories are... difficult to revisit. But perhaps..." He turned to her, moonlight catching in his dark eyes. "Perhaps you should know something of me, after sharing so much of yourself."

He was quiet for a long moment, as if gathering scattered thoughts - or perhaps choosing which ones to share. "I attended a ball once," he began finally, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that made her lean forward to catch his words. "My first. I was young - so young - and everything seemed magical. The lights, the music, the way everyone moved like figures in a dream..."

His hand drifted to his chest, pressing against some remembered pain. "There was a young man there. Beautiful in a way that seemed almost unreal - tall, with features that might have been carved from marble, eyes that seemed to hold entire worlds. When he asked me to dance..." Jimin's voice faltered slightly. "Well, how could anyone refuse such a creature?"

"He was so graceful, so attentive. The entire night became a blur of him - his voice like honey, his touch cool against my skin as we danced. I was rather like you then," he added, glancing at (Y/n) with an unreadable expression. "Innocent. Protected. Until that night."

His fingers absently traced patterns on the window glass, leaving frost-like marks that faded almost immediately. "What I felt... it was a strange sort of love. Terrible and beautiful at once. The kind that consumes, that burns even as it cherishes." He smiled, but it held no warmth. "I retired to my room still drunk on his attention, on dancing and candlelight. And there, in what should have been my sanctuary, this love nearly took my life."

"I remember every detail of that night with perfect clarity," Jimin continued, his voice taking on an almost hypnotic quality. "The way moonlight spilled across my bedroom floor, not unlike how it does now. The lingering scent of roses from the ball. Even the sound of distant music still playing, though the hour was terribly late."

He moved from the window, drifting through the room like smoke. "My admirer had given me a rose, dark as wine. I'd placed it on my bedside table, watching its shadow on the wall as I prepared for bed. I was so young, so foolish - already half in love with his otherworldly beauty, the graceful way he moved, how his dark eyes seemed to contain mysteries I longed to unravel."

(Y/n) found herself holding her breath, caught in the spell of his words. Even Madame Perrodon seemed to lean forward slightly in her doorway vigil.

"I felt it first as a presence," Jimin went on, his hand again pressing against his chest. "That sensation of being watched, of being wanted with an intensity that was both thrilling and terrifying. Then came the weight, the paralysis..." His eyes met (Y/n)'s suddenly, filled with an emotion she couldn't quite name. "But you know something of that, don't you? These visitations in the night?"

Before she could respond, he continued, "The pain, when it came, was exquisite - like ice and fire combined, here." He touched a spot just above his heart. "A love that pierced deeper than any blade, that would have drained my very life had fate not intervened."

"What happened?" (Y/n) whispered, aware she was leaning forward in her chair, drawn by his tale.

"The dawn came," he said simply. "And with it, an end to that particular enchantment. Though not without leaving its mark." His fingers traced what must have been a scar beneath his clothes. "Some loves, dear, are meant to transform us. To remake us entirely."

The moonlight seemed to gather around him as he spoke, making his beauty almost painful to look at. "I saw him once more after that night. He stood beneath my window in the garden, beautiful as ever, but changed somehow. His smile held secrets I finally understood. He raised his hand to me - not in farewell, I think, but in promise."

Jimin's eyes fixed on (Y/n) with sudden intensity. "Strange, isn't it? How some experiences echo through time? How some souls are destined to meet, to repeat these ancient patterns?"

The air in the room felt thick, charged with meaning she couldn't quite grasp. Outside, clouds passed over the moon, throwing the room into momentary darkness. When light returned, Jimin had moved closer to her chair, his presence making her skin prickle with awareness.

"But listen to me," he said softly, his cool fingers brushing her cheek. "Filling your head with dark tales before bed. You'll have nightmares."

"I already have nightmares," she found herself saying. "Or perhaps they're not nightmares at all..."

A clock somewhere in the house struck ten, breaking the spell of Jimin's story. He straightened, something shifting in his manner - becoming more formal, more contained. "I've kept you too late," he said, though his eyes lingered on her face as if memorizing its features. "And filled your head with strange tales."

"Walk me to my door?" he asked, offering his arm with courtly grace. Madame Perrodon's soft sigh of resignation followed them into the corridor.

The walk to the blue room seemed both endless and too brief. Their footsteps echoed on the wooden floors, marking what felt like a procession of sorts. At his door, Jimin turned to her, taking her hand in his cool grip.

"Dream sweet dreams," he murmured, bringing her fingers to his lips in a gesture that made Madame Perrodon clear her throat pointedly. His eyes held (Y/n)'s even as he backed into his room, something hungry in his gaze that made her shiver. The click of his lock seemed unusually loud in the quiet hallway.

Back in her room, Madame Perrodon's familiar routines felt somehow altered, as if Jimin's story had changed even these simple acts of preparation for bed. The French woman's fingers were gentle but efficient as she helped (Y/n) out of her dinner dress, unlacing stays and unpinning her hair with practiced ease.

"The amulet too, mademoiselle?" Madame Perrodon asked, reaching for the leather cord around (Y/n)'s neck.

"Yes," (Y/n) touched the silver charm that had grown warm against her skin. "It... it catches on my nightgown sometimes."

She watched in her mirror as Madame Perrodon carefully placed the amulet on her bedside table, next to the candlestick. The silver seemed to catch the light oddly, almost appearing to pulse in the flickering flame.

"Shall I leave a candle?" Madame Perrodon asked, hovering by the door as always.

"No," (Y/n) replied, already settling into her bed, mind still full of Jimin's tale. "The moonlight is enough."

Indeed, moonlight poured through her windows, turning the room to silver and shadow. As Madame Perrodon's footsteps faded down the corridor, (Y/n) found herself watching the patterns it made on her ceiling, thinking of another moonlit room, another young person preparing for bed, unaware of what the night might bring...

Moonlight transformed her familiar room into something altogether different - shadows lengthening, ordinary objects taking on strange new forms. (Y/n) lay watching the silver patterns on her ceiling, Jimin's story echoing in her mind. His words about visitations in the night seemed to hang in the air like incense, making everything feel slightly unreal.

From her bedside table, the amulet caught the moonlight, its silver surface seeming to pulse with gentle warning. As she drifted in that space between waking and sleeping, a sudden draft - though no window was open - sent the charm tipping over the edge of the table. It fell with a muffled thud into the thick carpet, its protective presence now out of reach.

The room felt different after that, as if some invisible barrier had dissolved. The air grew thick, heavy with anticipation, and that sweet-strange scent that always surrounded Jimin began to fill her lungs. Somewhere in the house, a clock struck midnight, its chimes sounding distorted and far away.

Sleep, when it came, was thin and uneasy. She floated in and out of consciousness, each time unsure whether she was truly awake or still dreaming. The moonlight shifted across her walls like water, and shadows in the corners seemed to breathe with alien life.

Then came the weight - familiar yet terrible, different from her usual nighttime visitations. Something large and dark crouched at the foot of her bed, its form too fluid to properly grasp. Larger than a cat but smaller than a person, it seemed to shift and change in the uncertain light, its edges bleeding into the surrounding darkness.

The thing at the foot of her bed seemed to drink in the moonlight rather than reflect it. As (Y/n) watched, paralyzed by terror and that strange languor that always accompanied these nighttime visits, it began to move - not crawling exactly, but flowing across her counterpane like liquid shadow.

That sweet-strange scent grew stronger, making her head spin. The creature drew closer, its form continuing to shift and change. She could make out something like fur, black as pitch, and eyes that caught the moonlight in a way that made her heart stutter - eyes she knew, eyes she'd spent weeks watching across dinner tables and garden paths.

The paralysis that held her began to fade, replaced by a growing horror as the thing drew level with her chest. Its weight settled over her, both familiar and terribly wrong. She wanted to scream, to call out, but her voice seemed trapped in her throat.

Then came the pain - sharp and sudden, like two needles piercing the flesh above her breast. This wasn't the usual dreamy pleasure-pain of her nightly visitations. This was immediate, terrible, real. The pain seemed to spread like ice through her veins, and with it came a horrible clarity.

As she watched, the dark creature began to transform. The black fur seemed to melt away, revealing a form she knew too well - Jimin's beautiful face, terrible in its perfection, emerged from the darkness. His eyes, when they met hers, held both triumph and tenderness.

The scream that had been building finally tore free from her throat, shattering the night's silence. The figure jerked back, and for a moment she saw both forms at once - the beautiful young man and the dark beast, overlaid like double-exposed photographs.

Then it was moving toward her door - her locked door - seeming to flow through the solid wood like smoke through a keyhole. The pain in her breast throbbed with each beat of her racing heart, even as running footsteps echoed through the house.

"(Y/n)!" Her father's voice from down the hall. "(Y/n)!"

"Mademoiselle!" Madame Perrodon's cry joined the chorus of concern, accompanied by the sound of multiple servants rushing toward her room.

Her door burst open, lantern light flooding the space and chasing away the last of the shadows. Her father reached her first, face pale with worry as she clutched at her nightgown, tears streaming down her face.

"He was here," she gasped, trembling violently. "Jimin - he was here, but not himself, something was wrong, something terrible-"

"Impossible," Madame Perrodon interjected, pressing a cool hand to (Y/n)'s forehead. "You were dreaming, dear. A nightmare-"

"No!" The pain in her breast throbbed with terrible conviction. "He was here! Like some kind of... some kind of dark creature, and then it was him, I saw him! Please, you must check his room-"

Her father exchanged worried glances with Mrs. Klaus and Thomas, who hovered anxiously in the doorway. The amulet lay forgotten on the floor, its silver surface dull in the lantern light.

"Very well," her father said softly, as one might speak to a frightened child. "Thomas, Mrs. Klaus - come with me."

(Y/n) listened to their footsteps hurrying down the corridor, heard them reach the blue room. The sound of knocking echoed through the silent house.

"Mr. Park?" Her father's voice, trying to maintain propriety even in this strange hour. "Mr. Park, forgive the intrusion, but there's been a disturbance..."

More knocking, more urgent now. Silence answered.

"The door's locked, sir," came Thomas's voice.

A moment of hesitation, then her father's command: "Break it down."

The sound of splintering wood made (Y/n) jump, even with Madame Perrodon's arms around her. Then came a moment of terrible silence.

"Empty," her father's voice carried clearly through the house. "The bed hasn't been slept in... the windows are locked from inside..."

She could hear them moving through the room, checking closets, looking behind curtains. Their lantern light cast moving shadows in the hallway, like dancers performing some macabre ballet.

"Impossible," Mrs. Klaus's voice drifted down the corridor. "I saw him enter myself, not an hour ago..."

More searching, more confusion. (Y/n) sat trembling in her bed, the pain in her breast a constant reminder that this had been no mere nightmare. Madame Perrodon kept murmuring soothing nonsense, stroking her hair as if she were still a child.

"The gardens," (Y/n) insisted, her voice hoarse. Before anyone could protest, she was already moving toward the doors, something pulling her into the darkness beyond. Perhaps it was memory - how many evenings had she spent out there with Jimin, his cool presence both comfort and contradiction?

The November air wrapped around her like a shroud, her white nightgown offering no protection against its bite. Behind her, she could hear the others following - her father's worried stride, Madame Perrodon's anxious muttering, Thomas with his wavering lantern that made the shadows dance like living things.

The garden paths, so familiar in daylight, had transformed into twisted mazes under the moon's cold gaze. Everything looked different, as if the night had rewritten the landscape she'd known since childhood. The great oak by the pond stood like a sentinel, its bare branches clawing at the star-strewn sky. Even the pond itself seemed different - not reflecting the moon but swallowing its light, like an eye turned inward.

Their lantern light caught what remained of her mother's roses, those once-proud bushes now reduced to skeletal forms. (Y/n) found herself drawn to them, remembering how gradually they'd declined over the autumn - each day losing a little more color, a little more life, the change so subtle it was only noticeable in retrospect. Like her own transformation, perhaps.

She reached out to touch one bare stem, careful of its thorns. How many times had she watched Jimin do the same, his cool fingers tracing patterns among the dying blooms as if reading some secret message in their decay?

"Mademoiselle, please," Madame Perrodon pleaded, finally catching up and trying to wrap the shawl around (Y/n)'s shoulders. "This night air will be the death of you."

Death. The word hung in the frozen air like smoke. (Y/n) turned away from the roses, that strange ache in her chest deepening. The gardens held no answers tonight, only echoes of what had been and dark promises of what might come.

Above them, clouds scudded across the moon's face, making the shadows shift and change. For a moment, she thought she saw movement near the oak tree - a darker patch of darkness that seemed to flow rather than move. But when Thomas raised his lantern, nothing was there except the night itself.

"There's nothing for us out here," her father finally said, his voice carrying a weariness that seemed more than physical. "Let's return to the house."

The journey back felt like a retreat, their small party moving in silence through the gardens. (Y/n)'s bare feet had gone numb with cold, but she welcomed the sensation - it distracted from the deeper ache in her chest.

Inside, they checked the blue room once more, finding it still empty and cold, the bed undisturbed. Her father organized the servants into search parties to continue through the night, but Madame Perrodon insisted on taking (Y/n) back to her room.

"You're shaking like a leaf," the French woman muttered, tucking her charge back into bed. "Whatever happened - whatever you think happened - can be dealt with in the morning."

But sleep was impossible. (Y/n) lay listening to the sounds of the search continuing throughout the house - footsteps, whispered conversations, doors opening and closing. Eventually, even these sounds faded into the deep silence of late night.

She must have drifted off eventually, for the next thing she knew the morning came like a physical assault. Sunlight, usually gentle through her eastern windows, seemed to pierce Saffron's skull with needle-sharp rays. She turned away from it with a soft cry, the movement sending new waves of pain through her body. Every muscle ached as if she'd spent the night running rather than searching.

The house already hummed with unusual activity - servants' footsteps hurrying past her door, urgent whispers she couldn't quite make out. Everything felt slightly wrong, shifted just enough to make the familiar strange. Even the simple act of sitting up required enormous effort, her limbs heavy and uncooperative.

It was when she went to press her hand against her aching head that she saw them - spots of blood on her nightgown, vivid as rubies against the white fabric. With trembling fingers, she pulled the collar aside. There, just above her breast, were two marks like needle punctures, an angry red that seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart. The skin around them felt hot to touch, sensitive enough that even the light pressure of her fingertips made her gasp.

The room spun slowly around her as she stood, having to catch herself on the bedpost. Her reflection in the mirror showed a stranger - hair wild around her shoulders, skin pale and ash stricken except for two fever-bright spots high on her cheeks. She looked like one of the consumptive heroines in her Gothic novels, beautiful in their decay.

No one stopped her as she drifted into the hallway, though she was scandalously underdressed - no cape or wrapper over her nightgown, her hair completely down. Servants rushed past, their arms full of linens or medical supplies, too preoccupied to notice the impropriety of her appearance. The house itself seemed to sway around her, or perhaps that was just her unsteady steps.

As she passed her father's study, fragments of conversation drifted out through the half-open door.

"...the milliner's daughters both succumbed in the night. Same wasting illness..."

"Poor things had grown so weak these past weeks..."

"Doctor Werner is baffled... just like the others, fading away despite their youth..."

The words should have shocked her, should have drawn some reaction. Instead, they seemed to come from very far away, as meaningless as the buzz of summer insects. Her feet carried her forward, drawn by some force she couldn't name.

The corridor to the blue room felt endless, though she couldn't remember deciding to go there. Whispers followed her like shadows - servants discussing her father's plans to summon another doctor, Madame Perrodon's worried voice speaking of her deteriorating condition. None of it seemed to matter.

Jimin's room, when she finally reached it, was a shock to her system. Gone was his usual immaculate ordering of space. The bed looked as if a struggle had taken place there, sheets twisted and torn. Books lay scattered across the floor, their spines broken as if they'd been thrown. A chair lay overturned near the window, which stood open despite the cold - impossible, given how they'd found it locked the night before.

She moved through the chaos in a daze, bending to pick up a fallen book despite how the movement made her head spin. A flash of dark red caught her eye - a single rose, nearly black, lay crushed beside the bed. Something about it nagged at her memory, but thinking felt like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.

Then she smelled it - that sweet-strange scent that always surrounded him, somehow stronger here despite his absence. It seemed to wrap around her like an embrace, making her knees weak, her thoughts fuzzy. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision as she swayed, catching herself on the bedpost, before something caught her eye.

The armoire seemed to draw her forward like a lodestone, her feet moving without conscious thought. That sweet-strange scent grew stronger with each step, making her head swim. Her hand trembled as it reached for the brass handle, cool metal shocking against her fever-warm skin.

Time seemed to stretch and warp as she pulled the door open. There, folded impossibly into the space, was Jimin. He looked like a Renaissance painting of a sleeping angel - dark hair falling across his face, formal clothes still pristine despite the room's destruction. But something was wrong about how he fit into the space, as if his form didn't quite follow the normal rules of flesh and bone.

"Jimin?" The name escaped her lips like a prayer, or perhaps a plea.

His eyes opened instantly, showing no trace of sleep. In the shadows of the armoire, they seemed to hold an inner light - burgundy rather than brown. The sight sent fresh waves of memory crashing through her mind: those same eyes watching her from the foot of her bed, from the face of a creature made of shadow and hunger.

A sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob tore from her throat. She stumbled backward, her legs threatening to give way beneath her.

"(Y/n)," his voice wrapped around her like silk, and suddenly he was there, supporting her with those cool, strong hands. How had he moved so quickly?

"Shhh, my dear," Jimin murmured, gathering her closer. His cool touch seemed to ease the fever burning beneath her skin. "You're trembling like a caught bird."

Despite every instinct screaming at her to pull away, Saffron found herself melting into his embrace. His fingers traced soothing patterns up her spine, into her hair, each touch carrying that familiar mix of comfort and possession that made her head spin.

"The marks," she tried again, but her voice emerged weak, dreamy. "I saw you... there was a creature..."

"Let me see," he whispered, his cool fingers already moving to her collar before she could protest. The touch against her wounded flesh should have hurt, should have frightened her, but instead it brought an odd relief. His thumb traced gentle circles around the punctures, drawing out the heat and pain until she sagged against him.

"There now," his voice had taken on that hypnotic quality that made everything feel soft and distant. "Nothing but dreams and shadows. You've been ill, dear heart. Feverish. Imagining such terrible things..."

One hand continued to stroke her hair while the other pressed against the marks on her breast, as if he could heal them through touch alone. Or perhaps he was claiming them - the thought surfaced hazily before drowning in the sweet-strange scent that surrounded them both.

"I would never harm you," he murmured against her temple, though something in his tone suggested deeper meanings. "Everything I do, every touch, every moment... it's all for love of you."

"You're exhausted," he murmured against her hair, gathering her closer as her legs threatened to give way entirely. "Let me take care of you."

She should protest, should tell someone he'd been found, should question how he'd ended up in that armoire - but his cool touch against her fevered skin made thinking impossible. The world had taken on that dreamlike quality again, everything soft and hazy except for Jimin.

"I can walk," she whispered, but even as she said it, he was lifting her with impossible grace, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.

The journey back to her room felt like floating. His sweet-strange scent wrapped around her, making the pain in her breast fade to a distant throb. She found herself pressing closer, seeking more of that delicious coolness, her face tucked against his neck.

"My beautiful girl," he breathed, his lips brushing her temple. "So trusting, even now. Even after your nightmares tried to make you fear me."

Her bed appeared before her as if by magic - had they walked there? Had they floated? His hands were gentle as he laid her down, drawing covers up around her with tender care. When he made to move away, she caught his sleeve with weak fingers.

"Stay," she pleaded, though some part of her mind whispered that she should want him as far away as possible. "Please."

His smile in the morning light was beautiful and terrible. "Of course," he settled beside her on the bed, gathering her close again. His cool fingers returned to the marks on her breast, touch feather-light yet somehow claiming. "Sleep now. Let me watch over you."

The morning light seemed dimmer now, as if Jimin's presence somehow softened its harsh edges. His cool body curved around hers protectively, one hand resting over the marks on her breast while the other stroked her hair with hypnotic rhythm. Each touch seemed to draw the pain away, replacing it with a languid heaviness that made her eyelids droop.

"They searched everywhere," she murmured against his chest, fighting the seductive pull of sleep. "The whole house... every corner..."

"Did they?" His voice held that musical quality that always made her thoughts turn liquid. "How thorough they must have been. And yet..." His fingers traced idle patterns on her skin. "Sometimes the most obvious places are the easiest to overlook. Like how you might stare at a word so long it loses meaning."

She wanted to question this, to ask how they could have missed him in that armoire during their thorough search, but his sweet-strange scent surrounded her, making everything feel soft and distant.

"Sleep now," he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. "You're exhausted from your night of searching."

His coolness was a balm against her fevered skin, and despite every question still burning in her mind, she found herself drifting. The last thing she felt was his hand pressing gently over the marks, as if claiming them even in her sleep.

She woke to Madame Perrodon's worried face hovering over her, the French woman's hand gentle but insistent on her shoulder.

"Finally," Madame breathed. "I've been trying to wake you for nearly an hour, mademoiselle. Such deep sleep - most unusual for you."

(Y/n) blinked in confusion, the morning's events feeling like a distant dream. The space beside her was empty, though she could have sworn... But Jimin's cool presence was gone, leaving only the lingering trace of his sweet-strange scent on her pillow.

"Mr. Park explained everything," Madame Perrodon continued, helping her sit up. "About finding himself in that armoire - a sleepwalking habit from childhood, poor thing. He was quite mortified to have caused such disruption. Your father was most understanding."

The explanation felt wrong somehow, like a dress that almost fits but pulls at the seams. But (Y/n)'s mind was still clouded with what had been, surprisingly, the most restful sleep she'd had in weeks.

"We must dress quickly," Madame was saying, already pulling out a black dress. "The milliner's daughters..."

Reality crashed back with terrible force. Catherine and Marie - gone in a single night, taken by the same mysterious illness that had been slowly consuming the village's young women. The same weakness that seemed to be creeping through (Y/n)'s own veins.

The journey into town was a blur of grey skies and concerned glances. Her father insisted on the carriage despite the short distance, claiming the walk would tax her strength too much. She didn't argue - even the simple act of dressing had left her trembling.

Jimin sat beside her, his cool hand covering hers in a gesture that looked merely comforting to others but felt like possession. The familiar sweet-strange scent of him helped ease the carriage sickness that had lately begun plaguing her.

The milliner's shop was closed, black crepe draped across its windows. Inside, the sisters lay in their coffins like sleeping princesses from a dark fairy tale. Catherine's golden hair had been arranged to hide how thin she'd grown near the end. Marie's small hands clutched a prayer book, as if seeking comfort even in death.

"They were reading to each other, when they found them," someone whispered nearby. "As if they'd simply fallen asleep mid-story..."

(Y/n) felt tears sliding down her cheeks. She'd spoken with them just weeks ago, sharing whispered conversations after Sunday service. They'd been so alive then, so vibrant. How quickly everything could fade.

"Hush, dear," Jimin murmured, his arm steady around her waist as she swayed. His voice held perfect sympathy, though something in his eyes when he gazed at the coffins seemed almost... satisfied. But surely that was just her grief-addled mind playing tricks.

The days following the funeral seemed to blur together. (Y/n) spent most of her time drifting between sleep and waking, each day bringing new weakness. Even sitting up to read exhausted her now.

That morning, she overheard Marcel in the garden below her window, his voice carrying up to where she lay.

"Fading away, she is," he was saying, presumably to her father. "My Emma, bright as a spring morning, now pale as winter frost. Can barely lift her head from the pillow, poor lamb. Just like those milliner's girls before..." His voice cracked. "Begging your pardon, sir, but seeing the young miss looking so peaked too..."

The gardens had grown wild in Emma's absence. (Y/n) could see the untended paths from her window, remembering how she used to watch the girl working beside her grandfather. When had she stopped noticing Emma's absence? Everything before Jimin's arrival felt like a half-remembered dream.

Dr. Werner arrived that afternoon, his black bag and grave expression suggesting he'd been at least partially briefed by her father. Madame Perrodon helped (Y/n) into a sitting position, propping her with pillows that felt too heavy to bear.

"Baron," Dr. Werner said, packing away his instruments with methodical precision. "Might I speak with you for a moment?"

Her father moved from where he'd been hovering near the door, coming to stand by the doctor. Madame Perrodon remained a silent presence near (Y/n)'s bed.

"These symptoms," the doctor began in low tones that nevertheless carried to (Y/n)'s ears. "How long has she been experiencing them?"

"The weakness began gradually," her father replied, his voice tight with worry. "At first we thought it merely fatigue, but lately..."

"She sleeps poorly?"

"Yes, though she seems unable to recall her dreams clearly. And her appetite..."

"Has diminished significantly," the doctor finished, his expression grave. "And these spells of languor - they're worse during daylight hours?"

Her father nodded. "She seems to rally somewhat in the evenings, but by morning..."

Dr. Werner's face grew increasingly troubled as her father listed her symptoms. His hand moved unconsciously to touch his medical bag where he'd noted his findings about the marks.

"Baron," Dr. Werner said gravely, his voice dropping even lower. "I must be frank with you. These symptoms - they are identical to those displayed by the milliner's daughters before their deaths. The same strange marks, the same pattern of decline."

Her father's face paled. "Surely you don't suggest-"

"I suggest nothing yet," the doctor interrupted carefully. "But there are precautions that must be taken. She must be watched, particularly during the night hours. Has she mentioned any... unusual occurrences? Sensations of a presence in her room perhaps?"

Through her half-closed eyes, (Y/n) watched her father sink heavily into the chair beside her bed. "She had some disturbance, several nights ago. Claimed she saw something - or someone - in her room. We searched the house but found nothing amiss."

"Ah." The doctor's pencil scratched against his notebook again. "And she sleeps alone?"

"Madame Perrodon's room adjoins hers," her father gestured to the French woman, who stood like a statue near the window. "Though lately..."

"Lately?"

"The connecting door has been locked some nights. From (Y/n)'s side, though she claims no memory of doing so."

Dr. Werner's frown deepened. "Most concerning. And these marks - you've noticed them before?"

"Marks?" Her father leaned forward sharply. "What marks?"

The doctor gestured to his own chest, just above the heart. "Two small punctures, like needle pricks. They appear to fade and return. The milliner's daughters showed identical marks, in precisely the same location. As does young Emma, the gardener's granddaughter."

(Y/n) wanted to protest, to explain about her dreams, about Jimin's story of his own similar wounds - but exhaustion pulled at her like lead weights. Even keeping her eyes open had become an impossible task.

"What do you suggest?" Her father's voice seemed to come from very far away.

"She must not be left alone," the doctor's reply was firm. "Particularly after sunset. The door between her room and Madame Perrodon's must remain open. And..." he hesitated, "perhaps it would be wise to maintain a record of any visitors to the house, especially during the evening hours."

"Visitors?" Her father's tone sharpened. "You cannot possibly suggest-"

"I suggest nothing, Baron. Merely that in cases such as these, every detail must be noted. Every pattern observed. The similarities between these afflicted young women are too striking to ignore."

A week had passed since the doctor's visit, each day bleeding into the next in a haze of enforced bed rest and careful monitoring. Jimin's absence felt like a physical ache, though she couldn't be certain if he was truly gone or if the new precautions simply kept him from her side. Time had become fluid, marked only by Madame Perrodon's constant presence and the changing of guards outside her door.

This particular morning found her at her dressing table, barely recognizing the reflection before her. The girl in the mirror was a stranger - cheekbones sharp beneath almost translucent skin, eyes huge and fever-bright in their dark-circled hollows. Her hair, once thick and lustrous, fell limply as Madame Perrodon's gentle hands worked to arrange it.

"Perhaps a ribbon," the French woman murmured, more to herself than (Y/n). "To add some color..."

Every movement felt like swimming through honey. Even holding her head up as Madame Perrodon dressed her hair required immense effort. The black dress they'd chosen felt unusually formal for a morning at home, but thinking about why seemed beyond her current capabilities.

"There," Madame Perrodon said finally, helping her to stand. "Your father's waiting in the front hall."

The journey downstairs was painfully slow, each step carefully monitored. Strange, how the house seemed unusually still this morning, as if holding its breath. Through the front windows, watery autumn sunshine cast long shadows across the drive.

Her father waited by the door, his face grave as he offered his arm for support. She wanted to ask why they were standing here, why everything felt draped in such heavy silence, but even forming questions seemed too difficult.

The sound came first - the slow, measured tread of multiple feet on gravel. Then figures emerged from the morning mist. Marcel came into view, his aged shoulders straining beneath a wooden box she didn't immediately recognize. Three other men helped support the corners, but it was Marcel's bowed head that caught her attention. How strange to see him away from the garden, and in such formal black attire.

Behind them came a group of villagers, all in dark clothes. Emma's mother was there, supported by relatives. Why was she crying? And where was Emma? She hadn't seen the girl in the gardens lately...

The morning air felt suddenly thick, hard to breathe. Something about the careful way they moved, the measured steps, the box they carried - recognition hovered just at the edges of her mind, but her thoughts were too sluggish to grasp it.

"Papa?" she whispered, her voice small. "Why is Marcel..."

The words died in her throat as understanding finally, terribly dawned. Her legs gave way, but her father's arm kept her upright as her childhood friend's final journey passed before them

"Papa?" she whispered again, her voice catching as she watched Marcel's slow progress down the drive. "That's not... Emma isn't..."

The world seemed to tilt sideways, reality rearranging itself into something terrible she couldn't quite comprehend. Her eyes followed the simple wooden box - coffin, her mind finally supplied, that's a coffin - as if staring hard enough might change what it contained.

She'd just been thinking about Emma yesterday, hadn't she? Or was it last week? Time had become so strange lately. She remembered watching from her window as the girl helped her grandfather with the roses, her laugh carrying up through the air. When had that been? Before Jimin arrived? Everything before him felt like a half-remembered dream.

"She was ill, my dear," her father said softly, his arm tightening around her waist as she swayed. "Like the milliner's daughters. We thought it best not to distress you with the news, given your own condition."

The procession moved with terrible slowness past their position by the door. Marcel's face was set in lines she'd never seen before, aging him decades in what must have been mere weeks. How had she not noticed his absence from the gardens? The roses growing wild without Emma's careful attention?

Behind the coffin, Emma's mother's sobs seemed to echo in the still morning air. The sound struck something deep in (Y/n)'s chest, making her own breath catch painfully. She remembered summer afternoons, Emma sneaking her treats from the village, sharing whispered confidences about books and boys while Marcel pretended not to hear as he pruned nearby bushes.

"She can't be," (Y/n) found herself saying, though the evidence passed before her eyes. "She was fine. She was..." But had she been? When was the last time they'd actually spoken? Everything felt so hazy, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.

The morning light seemed too harsh suddenly, making her head spin. Or perhaps that was the realization that while she'd been drifting in her twilight world with Jimin, Emma had been fading away entirely. Just like the milliner's daughters. Just like...

Her knees buckled completely this time. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as her father caught her weight. She was dimly aware of Madame Perrodon appearing at her other side, of worried murmurs and gentle hands trying to guide her back inside.

"No," she protested weakly, though even speaking took immense effort. "I have to... Marcel shouldn't have to..."

But what could she do? She could barely stand, barely think through the fog that seemed to fill her head. Everything felt distant except the terrible sight of Marcel carrying his granddaughter's coffin, his determined steps carrying her away forever.

Her father and Madame Perrodon guided her back into the house, away from the terrible sight of Marcel's bowed shoulders disappearing into the morning mist. The grand hall spun around her, familiar paintings blurring into dark smudges against the walls. Every step felt like wading through deep water, her legs threatening to give way entirely.

They settled her in her room, Madame Perrodon's cool hands gentle as she helped (Y/n) out of the black dress and into her nightgown. The simple act of changing exhausted her completely. She fell into a deep, heavy sleep before her head touched the pillow.

When she woke, the quality of light suggested late afternoon, and the house hummed with unusual activity. The scrape of furniture being moved echoed through corridors, rapid footsteps on wooden floors, voices calling back and forth with strange urgency. Her room was empty, Madame Perrodon's usual vigilant presence notably absent.

In her white nightgown and wrapper, hair falling loose around her shoulders, she drifted into the corridor like a ghost. The household's usual ordered rhythm had transformed into careful chaos. Maids hurried past with fresh linens, too focused on their tasks to notice her. From below came Mrs. Klaus's voice directing the transformation of the best guest rooms.

Even her father's study door stood open, papers scattered across his usually immaculate desk, suggesting hasty departure. Strange, how the household's chaos made her invisible - no one rushing past seemed to notice the master's daughter wandering the halls in her nightclothes, pale as a wraith in the lengthening shadows.

Her feet carried her up the grand staircase, each step requiring more effort than the last. The upper corridor seemed different somehow, transformed by the golden afternoon light and the unusual bustle below. As she passed the blue room - Jimin's room - something made her pause. Perhaps it was the quality of silence behind that door, so different from the chaos elsewhere. Or perhaps it was that sweet-strange scent that always surrounded him, seeping out from beneath the door like mist.

Before she could decide whether to knock, the door opened. Jimin stood there, beautiful as always in the dying light, though something about his expression seemed different - more intense, almost hungry.

"I wondered when you'd come," he said softly, stepping back in silent invitation. The room behind him was dim, heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. "You look tired, dear."

She stepped into the familiar blue room, now cast in shadows from the drawn curtains. The space felt different somehow - not just from the dim light, but as if Jimin's awareness of impending departure had already begun to empty it of his presence. Yet his sweet-strange scent seemed stronger than ever, making her head swim in that now-familiar way.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," he murmured, closing the door behind her with a soft click. His cool hands found her shoulders, steadying her swaying form. "Not after this morning."

So he knew about Emma. Of course he did - how could anyone in the house not know? Yet he hadn't come to her, hadn't offered comfort. Something about that nagged at her tired mind, but his proximity made thinking difficult.

"The house is strange today," she said, letting him guide her to sit on the edge of his bed. "Everyone rushing about..."

"Change comes whether we wish it or not," he replied cryptically, settling beside her. His fingers found her hair, gently combing through the tangled strands. The gesture was achingly familiar, yet held something new - an urgency, a possessiveness that made her shiver. "Time grows short, dear."

"What do you mean?" But even as she asked, she found herself leaning into his cool touch, her body betraying her as it always did around him. The room seemed to spin slowly, though whether from weakness or his intoxicating presence, she couldn't tell.

"How pale you've grown," he observed, his other hand cupping her cheek. His thumb traced the dark circles beneath her eyes. "Like moonlight given form. Beautiful."

She should protest this - should question why he found her increasing illness beautiful - but his touch was so soothing against her fevered skin. When he drew her closer, she went willingly, letting her heavy head rest against his shoulder.

"What do you mean, time grows short?" she asked again, but his cool fingers were already trailing down her throat, making it hard to focus. The scent that always surrounded him seemed stronger in the dim room - roses on the edge of decay mingled with honey turned too thick, too sweet. It should have repulsed her, yet she found herself breathing deeper, wanting more.

"Say it again," he commanded softly, his mouth moving against her throat. "My name on your lips... I'll miss that most of all."

The words made no sense, yet she found herself obeying, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. His grip tightened in response, one hand tangling in her hair while the other slipped lower, tracing the curve of her spine through her thin nightgown. Each touch left trails of delicious cold that made her arch closer, seeking more of that sweet relief against her fever-hot skin.

The room had grown darker still, the blue walls deepening to midnight shades. In the mirrors, their reflection seemed to blur at the edges, as if they too were transforming into shadows. Or perhaps that was just her weakened vision, everything growing soft and strange as his scent overwhelmed her senses.

"I should have waited," he murmured, more to himself than her. His fingers found the marks below her breast, pressing gently until she gasped. "Should have been more patient. But you're so..." His other hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head back to expose more of her throat. "So perfectly made for this."

"For me."

She should question his words, should ask what he meant, but his cool lips were trailing down her neck, each kiss making thought more impossible. The impropriety of their position barely registered anymore - her in his lap, her nightgown slipping off one shoulder, his hands growing bolder as the room grew darker.

"Everything changes," he continued, his voice taking on that hypnotic quality that made her feel like she was drowning in honey. "But some things are eternal. Some hungers..." His teeth grazed her pulse point, sending shivers down her spine. "Some loves...

"Love?" she echoed dreamily, the word floating between them like smoke. His hands had grown more possessive, one splayed across her back while the other traced patterns on her collarbone that felt like ancient writing.

"A different kind of love," he breathed against her skin. "Deeper than mortal affection. The kind that consumes, that transforms..." His fingers found the marks again, making her gasp as pleasure-pain spiraled out from his touch. "The kind that lives in dreams and shadows."

The last rays of sunlight had vanished now, leaving them in a darkness broken only by faint moonlight filtering through the heavy curtains. His pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, making him look less human than ever. Beautiful, terribly beautiful, like something from a Gothic novel come to life.

"I'm dizzy," she whispered, though whether from weakness or his intoxicating presence, she couldn't tell. The sweet decay scent of him filled her lungs, making everything feel distant and dream-like.

"Then let me hold you," he murmured, shifting them until she lay across his bed, her hair spilling across the blue silk counterpane. He moved over her like a shadow given form, his cool weight both comforting and overwhelming. "Let me memorize you like this, while there's still time."

His words should have worried her, should have made her question what he meant by 'still time', but his touch was growing more insistent, more intimate. Cool fingers slipped beneath the collar of her nightgown, tracing the line of her shoulder, while his other hand cradled her head with impossible tenderness.

"So warm," he breathed, pressing his face against her throat. "So alive. Even now, fading as you are, your heart beats so strongly..." His lips found her pulse point, lingering there as if counting each beat. "If only..."

His cool touch traced fire across her fevered skin, each caress somehow both soothing and igniting. The sweet-decay scent surrounding them made her head swim as his lips found her throat, her collarbone, lower still. Her nightgown had slipped from one shoulder, his mouth following the path of exposed skin with deliberate slowness.

"My sweet girl," he breathed against her flesh, one hand tangling in her hair while the other explored with increasing boldness. The contrast between his cold touch and her burning skin made her gasp, arch into his caress. "So responsive... so perfect..."

When her trembling fingers found his shirt buttons, he helped her, revealing that marble-perfect chest with its telling scars. Her hands explored the cool expanse of him as his own touch grew more intimate, slipping beneath her nightgown with possessive purpose.

"Let me show you," he murmured, his skilled fingers drawing sounds from her she'd never made before. "Let me make you mine... in every way..."

His cool fingers trailed down her throat, following the flutter of her pulse as it quickened beneath his touch. The thin fabric of her nightgown did nothing to shield her from the delicious chill of his hands as they explored lower, tracing the curve of her breast, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks until she gasped.

"So responsive," he murmured against her neck, his mouth leaving trails of frost-fire on her fever-hot skin. "Every touch makes your heart race..." His hand slipped lower, gathering the fabric of her nightgown until it bunched around her thighs. "Let me hear you, dear."

Her nightgown slipped from one shoulder, his lips immediately following the exposed skin with cool, open-mouthed kisses. His fingers found bare skin, trailing patterns up her inner thigh that made her whimper. The sweet-decay scent surrounding them grew stronger as his touch grew bolder, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that made her arch off the blue silk counterpane.

"Please," she gasped, though what she was begging for she couldn't say. Her hands found his shirt buttons, desperate to feel more of his cool skin against hers. He helped her, shrugging the fabric away to reveal that marble-perfect chest. The moonlight caught the twin scars above his heart - so like the marks he'd left on her own breast.

"Touch me," he encouraged as her fingers explored the cold expanse of his torso. His own fingers continued their intimate dance between her thighs, circling her most sensitive spot before dipping lower to gather her growing wetness. One long finger slipped inside her, making her cry out at the strange intrusion.

"That's it," he breathed, watching her face as he added another finger, stretching her gently. His thumb continued its circles above while his fingers moved in and out with devastating precision. "Let me hear how much you want this..."

Her hips rose to meet his touch of their own accord, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. His free hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to expose her throat to his hungry mouth.

His cool mouth traced patterns down her throat while his fingers maintained their rhythm, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from her lips. Each stroke inside her made her arch closer, seeking more of his delicious chill against her burning skin. The sweet scent that always surrounded him seemed to pulse with each wave of pleasure, making everything feel dreamlike yet achingly real.

"Perfect," he breathed against her collarbone, his thumb circling faster as his fingers curled inside her. "So warm, so alive..." His other hand slipped beneath her nightgown, palm flat against her stomach before sliding up to cup her breast. "Every inch of you was made for this."

She clutched at his shoulders, his bare skin perfect and cold beneath her burning palms. Her body tightened around his fingers as he worked her closer to some precipice she'd never known existed. When his cool mouth closed around her nipple through the thin fabric, she cried out, back bowing off the bed.

"Please," she gasped, though what exactly she was begging for remained unclear. Everything felt too much yet not enough - his touch, his weight above her, the way his fingers seemed to know exactly how to drive her mad.

Moonlight painted moving shadows across the blue walls as their forms entwined on the silk counterpane. His cool touch drew increasingly desperate responses from her fever-hot skin, each caress bringing them closer to that inevitable moment. The sweet-decay scent grew stronger, making everything feel dreamlike yet terribly real.

"My heart," he breathed against her throat, his movements growing more urgent. "Say you'll be mine forever..."

The mirrors seemed to hold only darkness now, as if the world beyond their embraced had ceased to exist. Somewhere far below, the household continued its frantic preparations, but those sounds couldn't penetrate their private realm of shadow and sensation.

Her pulse raced beneath his lips as he traced the path he'd marked so many times in dreams. This time would be different - no more nighttime visitations, no more playing at mortality. His teeth grazed her skin, drawing a gasp that was equal parts fear and desire.

His fingers curled inside her with devastating precision, drawing sounds she'd never imagined making. The room spun slowly around them, blue shadows deepening as his cool mouth traced patterns down her throat, across her collarbone, finding every sensitive spot that made her arch and gasp.

"Beautiful," he breathed against her skin, his thumb circling faster while his other hand pinned her wrists above her head. "The way you respond to every touch..." His mouth found her breast through the thin fabric, teeth grazing the sensitive peak until she cried out. "The way your heart races..."

The sweet-decay scent grew stronger as pleasure built inside her, making everything feel unreal yet achingly present. Her nightgown had slipped further, exposing more skin to his hungry mouth. Each kiss left trails of delicious frost that made her burn hotter, need him more.

"Please," she gasped, though what exactly she was begging for remained unclear. Her body tightened around his fingers as he drove her closer to some precipice she'd never known existed. "Jimin..."

"Say it again," he demanded softly, his movements growing more insistent. "Say my name while I make you mine completely."

His fingers kept their relentless rhythm as her pleasure built higher, each stroke bringing her closer to something tremendous, something that would change everything. The sweet-decaying smell overwhelmed her senses as his cool mouth found that spot on her neck that always made her shiver.

"Now," he breathed against her pulse point, his thumb circling faster while his other hand tightened in her hair. "Come for me, dear. Let me feel you..."

Her body tightened around his fingers as the first waves of pleasure crashed through her. In that moment of perfect vulnerability, his teeth broke skin - not the usual gentle pierce but something deeper, more permanent. The twin sensations of ecstasy and sharp pain merged into something transcendent, making her cry out his name into the darkness.

The pleasure seemed endless, each pull of his mouth drawing out her release as her blood filled his. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and drawing him closer as everything she was flowed into him.

"Mine," he growled against her throat, his fingers still moving inside her, prolonging both pleasures until she thought she might shatter completely. "Forever mine..."

As the last tremors subsided, Jimin lifted his head from her throat, his tongue catching a final drop of blood. The moonlight caught his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth, cleaning them with deliberate slowness while holding her gaze. Something about the gesture should have shocked her, but she felt beyond such mortal concerns now.

He settled against her chest, his cool weight comforting rather than crushing. Her fingers found their way into his dark hair, stroking through the silk-soft strands as she admired how the moonlight painted his perfect features. His own fingers traced the fresh marks on her breast with possessive tenderness.

"Dawn comes too quickly," he murmured, more to himself than her. His touch lingered on the punctures, as if memorizing their placement. "They'll be here soon..."

"Don't leave," she whispered, her voice weak but urgent. The thought of separation felt like physical pain. "I can't... I think I love you."

He smiled up at her - that beautiful, terrible smile that had captured her from the first. "Love," he echoed, pressing a kiss to the marks he'd made. "Yes, I suppose that's what this is. A different kind of love..."

Rising with fluid grace, he began to put her back together - smoothing her nightgown, arranging her hair with careful fingers. The cool cloth he produced from somewhere felt heavenly against her heated skin as he cleaned away the evidence of their passion. Every touch felt like a goodbye.

When he tucked her into his bed, the blue silk cool against her skin, she could barely keep her eyes open. His kiss, when it came, tasted of copper and promises.

"Dream of me," he whispered against her lips.

Through heavy lids, she watched him move to the window. The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was his silhouette against the moon, beautiful as a painting. Or perhaps that was just a dream.

Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up through dark water. The first thing (Y/n) noticed was the rose on the pillow beside her - its petals so dark they appeared almost black in the pre-dawn light. Something about it nagged at her memory as she reached out with trembling fingers to touch the aged bloom.

"I attended a ball once..." Jimin's voice echoed in her memory, the story he'd told her in this very room suddenly taking on new meaning. "He'd given me a rose, dark as wine..." The petals crumbled at her touch, soft as ash.

Her hand flew to her throat, finding the fresh marks that throbbed with each heartbeat. Not dream marks this time - these felt different, permanent. The sweet-decay scent that always surrounded him lingered in the air, but she knew with terrible certainty that Jimin himself was gone.

She lay in his bed still, surrounded by blue silk and shadows. Her nightgown felt impossibly soft against her sensitized skin, though she couldn't remember him redressing her. Every movement brought fresh awareness of what they'd shared - intimate aches, cooling trails where his fingers had traced possession into her flesh. The marks on her breast throbbed in time with those on her throat, a matched set of claims she'd welcomed in the darkness.

Beyond the heavy curtains, dawn was breaking - she could feel it somehow, a pressure against her skin even through the thick fabric. The blue room felt different in this strange half-light, as if Jimin's departure had already begun erasing traces of his presence. Yet that sweet-strange scent remained, making her head swim with memories of his cool touch, his tender possession, the way he'd...

Urgent footsteps in the corridor interrupted her reverie. Multiple sets, she realized, moving with purpose toward the blue room's locked door. Her father's voice carried through the wood, tight with worry, but the other voice - deeper, rough with grief and rage - sent recognition shooting through her like lightning.

"The lock, damn you!" Baron Rheinfeldt commanded, and her heart clenched. Bertha's father. Of course she recognized that voice - how many summer afternoons had she spent in his gardens, playing with his daughter? Before Bertha had grown ill, before she'd... "Break it down if you must!"

The door shuddered under impact once, twice - then burst open with a crack of splintering wood. Rheinfeldt stood in the doorway, his face haggard with travel and purpose. The kind eyes that had once watched her and Bertha gathering flowers were now hard as granite, filled with a terrible knowledge. Her father appeared behind him, candle casting wild shadows across his worried features.

"Where is he?" Rheinfeldt demanded, scanning the room with desperate intensity. His gaze caught on the rumpled sheets, the black rose crumbling to ash on the pillow, the marks visible at her throat. Something like horror crossed his weathered features.

"Where is the monster?"

"Uncle Rheinfeldt?" The childhood name slipped out before she could stop it. She hadn't seen him since Bertha's last visit , his grief had carved new lines in his once-jovial face. "I don't understand..."

"No, child. You don't." His voice softened for a moment, remembering perhaps how she and Bertha had once called him that. But then his face hardened again as he strode to the window, yanking back curtains that had remained drawn for months. "But you will."

(Y/n) flinched from the morning light, unexpectedly painful against her sensitive eyes. Her father moved to her side, his hand cool against her fevered brow. "You're burning up, sweetheart. We need to-"

"A doctor cannot help her now," Rheinfeldt cut him off sharply. He turned from the window, and she saw he held a leather folio she hadn't noticed before. "Just as no doctor could help my Bertha. Our only hope lies in destroying the creature before..." He broke off, something like pity crossing his features as he looked at her throat.

"Baron, please," her father started, but Rheinfeldt was already shouting into the corridor, his voice seeming to shake the house's foundations.

"Prepare the wagon! Now! Horses, weapons - everything!" His commands echoed through the halls. "We hunt him before he gets too far. Before he claims another innocent like my Bertha!"

Servants rushed past the doorway, carrying strange bundles - wooden stakes, crosses, things that seemed pulled from old tales rather than reality. Their usual measured efficiency had taken on a frantic edge, as if they too sensed how little time remained.

"Papa?" (Y/n)’s voice sounded distant to her own ears. The morning light that had merely hurt her eyes moments ago now seemed to burn. "What's happening?"

Rheinfeldt strode to the bed, his movements sharp with urgency. "After Bertha..." His voice caught for a moment. "After I lost her, I began researching similar cases. Girls wasting away from mysterious illnesses, strange marks upon their breasts... The pattern stretched back centuries." He thrust the folio at her father, who went pale at whatever he saw inside.

"This is impossible," her father breathed, looking between whatever he held and (Y/n)'s increasingly unnatural pallor. "He can't be..."

"The same creature," Rheinfeldt confirmed grimly. "Taking different names, different forms even, but always the same pattern. Always young women in the same village, gradually weakening. Strange dreams, marks upon their breasts..." He broke off as Madame Perrodon appeared with traveling clothes. "Quickly now. The sun rises - we must reach the crypt before nightfall."

"Crypt?" The word felt ashen in (Y/n)'s mouth. She thought of Jimin's perfect face, his cool touches, the tender way he'd arranged her hair before... before... "I don't understand. Last night, he..."

"Last night he marked you as his next victim," Rheinfeldt's voice grew harsh again. "Just as he marked my Bertha. Just as he's marked countless others across centuries." He pulled something else from the folio - a yellowed sketch that made her breath catch. "This was drawn in Vienna, 1846. The name then was Minji..."

There on aged paper was Jimin's face - unchanged across decades, beautiful and terrible as a painting that never aged. But something about the features seemed softer, more feminine somehow. The longer she stared, the more the image seemed to shift between male and female, like a trick of candlelight.

"Baron Vordenburg arrives within the hour," Rheinfeldt continued, already moving to supervise the packing. "He knows the location of the crypt, the proper rituals..." He broke off, glancing at the lightening sky visible through the windows Jimin had kept so carefully curtained. "But we must hurry. Once night falls..."

The journey down the grand staircase was torture. Each step sent waves of strange sensation through (Y/n)'s body - not illness, though they all believed it so, but transformation. The sunlight streaming through the windows felt like knives against her skin, making her burrow deeper into the cloak her father had wrapped around her shoulders.

"She can barely stand," her father protested as they reached the entrance hall, his arm supporting most of her weight. "Surely we should wait-"

"Every moment we delay brings her closer to her fate," Rheinfeldt cut him off sharply. But (Y/n) caught the tremor in his voice, the way he couldn't quite meet her eyes. She wondered if he saw Bertha in her now - but no, Bertha had truly been ill, truly been a victim. What (Y/n) felt coursing through her veins was something else entirely.

The sweet-decay scent that still clung to her skin seemed to pulse with each slowing heartbeat. Her father's touch, once comforting, now felt scalding against her cooling flesh. Everything was changing, transforming, becoming something other than human. She thought of Jimin's words "Some loves transform us completely." Only now did she understand what he'd meant.

The wagon waited in the courtyard, already loaded with their grim cargo - crosses that made her eyes water, holy water that seemed to ripple without being touched, wooden stakes carved with symbols she couldn't bear to look at directly. Her father helped her into the back, where he'd created a nest of blankets to shield her from the sun's assault.

As they pulled away from the estate, (Y/n) pressed her face against the wagon's wooden side, finding a gap through which to watch her home recede into distance. The roses she'd tended were just visible, their petals drinking in the morning light. She remembered Jimin walking with her in the gardens, always in late afternoon, always in shadows. Had he been remembering his own mortal days, his own last moments in sunlight?

"The pattern was always the same," Rheinfeldt's voice carried from the front of the wagon. "Young women of good family, gradually weakening. Strange dreams, marks upon their breasts..."

But they were wrong about her, about all of it. She wasn't weakening - she was strengthening, changing, becoming something eternal. Each bump in the road made her more aware of how different her body felt. Her heartbeat had slowed to a rhythm as ancient as the earth itself. Colors seemed sharper, scents more intense, every sensation magnified to almost unbearable clarity.

The countryside rolled past in a blur of too-bright colors as (Y/n) drifted between memories of last night and awareness of what awaited them. She thought of Jimin's cool fingers in her hair, his tender touches, the way he'd looked at her in the blue room's shadows. Not a monster taking a victim, but a lover sharing his eternal gift.

"The crypt lies within consecrated ground," Rheinfeldt continued, shuffling through his papers. "An old monastery, long abandoned. They thought holy ground would contain him, but..."

(Y/n) pressed deeper into her blanket nest as the sun climbed higher. She could feel Jimin out there somewhere, moving through hidden paths toward the same destination. The marks on her throat and breast throbbed in time with her slowing pulse, calling her toward something vast and dark and eternal.

"All those girls," her father's voice cracked slightly. "Emma, Catherine, the others... How did we not see?"

But (Y/n)'s thoughts were only of Jimin - his perfect face in the blue room's mirrors, his cool weight above her, the exquisite moment when he'd made her his forever. Not victim and monster, but equals in transformation. How could she make them understand that what flowed through her veins now wasn't death, but a different kind of life?

The wagon rattled onward as morning stretched into afternoon. With each mile, (Y/n) felt herself slipping further from humanity. Sounds grew sharper - she could hear every creak of the wheels, every shift of the hunters' weapons. Scents became overwhelming - leather and wood, sweat and fear, and underneath it all, that sweet-decay perfume that meant Jimin was somewhere ahead, waiting.

The sun began its slow descent as dense forest closed in around them. Ancient trees blocked much of the painful light, their branches reaching across the road like grasping fingers. (Y/n) felt something pull at her blood, at the marks Jimin had left on her throat and breast. They were getting closer. Soon they would reach the crypt, and she would have to choose - the mortality they fought to preserve, or the dark eternity Jimin offered.

The thought of them destroying him made her chest ache with a pain that had nothing to do with transformation. They didn't understand what he was, what she was becoming. They saw only a monster who had to be stopped, not the beautiful, lonely creature who had finally found someone to share his endless night.

As the wagon wheels crunched onto different ground, (Y/n) dared to peek out from her blankets. Crumbling stone walls rose around them - the remains of the monastery Rheinfeldt had spoken of. Statues of saints, worn nearly featureless by time, watched their progress with blind eyes. Nature had begun reclaiming this sacred space - ivy crawled up weathered stone, tree roots burst through ancient paving stones, and moss carpeted what must once have been paths between buildings.

The wagon creaked to a stop in what had once been a courtyard. As her father helped her down, (Y/n) felt it - that pull in her blood growing stronger. Somewhere beneath these ruins, Jimin waited. And soon she would have to decide: the warm world of sunlight and mortality, or the eternal darkness of his love.

"Stay close," her father murmured, supporting her weight as the hunters began unloading their grim cargo. Crosses that made her eyes water, vials of water that seemed to ripple without being touched, wooden stakes carved with symbols she couldn't bear to look at directly.

But (Y/n)'s attention was elsewhere. Through her changed senses, she could feel Jimin's presence like a song in her blood. He was below them, in the crypt's endless darkness, waiting. Perhaps he already knew they had come. Perhaps he had always known how this would end.

"The entrance lies there," Rheinfeldt pointed toward a structure that seemed to grow out of the hillside itself. Unlike the monastery's slow decay above ground, this entrance appeared eerily well-preserved. Its heavy iron door gleamed as if recently tended, though that seemed impossible in such a forgotten place.

The hunters moved with practiced efficiency, checking weapons, conferring in low voices about approach and strategy. Her father had stepped away briefly to help Rheinfeldt with some ancient text, leaving her alone for the first time since they'd burst into the blue room.

(Y/n)'s eyes found a smaller path leading around the side of the ruined church. Overgrown with vines and shadow, it seemed to beckon her with promises of darker passages, hidden ways down to where Jimin waited. The pull in her blood grew stronger, urging her toward that secret route.

While the men were occupied with their preparations, she began to drift backward, one careful step at a time. The transformation had already changed her - her movements were silent now, graceful in a way that felt foreign yet natural. When she reached the shadow of a crumbling wall, no one had noticed her absence.

The hidden path led down through tangles of ancient roses, their blooms dark as wine. Their scent reminded her painfully of the black rose she'd found on Jimin's pillow that morning - had it only been that morning? It felt like lifetimes ago. Each step took her further from the hunters and closer to where she knew Jimin would be. The sweet-decay scent grew stronger, making her head swim with memories of the blue room, of his cool touches, of the moment he'd made her his forever.

A weathered door, half-hidden by ivy, opened at her touch. The passage beyond was dark, but her changed eyes pierced the shadows easily. Stone steps led down into earth that felt alive around her, the walls themselves seeming to pulse with centuries of dark magic.

Behind her, distantly, she heard her father's voice raised in alarm as they discovered her missing. But she was already descending, drawn forward by something stronger than family ties or mortal love. Each step took her closer to where she belonged - to cool arms that would hold her forever, to a darkness that felt more like home than sunlight ever had.

The passage twisted deeper, the air growing thick with that sweet-familiar scent that made her blood sing. Ancient carvings covered the walls - beautiful faces caught in eternal ecstasy or agony, it was impossible to tell which. The marks on her throat and breast throbbed stronger with each step, leading her toward their maker.

When the passage finally opened into a vast chamber, she knew she had found him. Mirrors hung between stone columns, their tarnished surfaces holding centuries of secrets. At the chamber's center stood what appeared to be an altar, but she knew it for what it truly was - his resting place, where he waited between hunting grounds, between loves that burned too bright and brief.

"I knew you would come alone."

Jimin's voice sent shivers down her spine - that same musical tone that had first enchanted her, though now it held edges of something darker, older. He emerged from the shadows as if he'd been formed from them, beautiful as ever in the chamber's eternal twilight.

"They're coming," she whispered, moving toward him as if drawn by invisible threads. "With stakes and crosses, holy water and ancient texts..."

"Let them come." His cool fingers found her face, traced the changes already visible in her features. "You're nearly complete, dear heart. The transformation almost finished." His other hand settled over the marks on her breast, making her gasp as sensation spiraled out from his touch. "Soon nothing they bring can harm you."

His touch felt different now - no longer the shocking contrast of cold against heat, but a perfect matching of temperature that made her realize how completely she had changed. When his arms drew her closer, it felt like coming home.

"I couldn't let them hurt you," she breathed against his chest, where those twin scars lay beneath his shirt - mirror images of the marks he'd left on her. "Not after... not when I understand now what this really is."

"And what is this?" he murmured into her hair, his fingers tracing patterns on her cooling skin. His voice held centuries of loneliness, of searching for someone who would understand, who would choose this darkness freely.

"Love," she answered simply, tilting her face up to his. "A different kind of love. The kind that transforms completely."

His hands cradled her face with impossible tenderness, thumbs tracing the new sharpness of her cheekbones. "How long I've waited," he breathed, his dark eyes holding centuries of loneliness. "How many lives I've lived, how many loves I've lost, searching for someone who would understand. Someone who would choose this freely."

The urgency of approaching footsteps faded away as he drew her closer. In that moment, there was only this - his cool skin perfect against hers, the sweet-decay scent surrounding them like a veil, the way the ancient mirrors caught and multiplied their reflection until it seemed a thousand versions of them stood locked in eternal embrace.

"I'm not afraid," Saffron whispered, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt, tracing those twin scars above his heart. "Not of the darkness, not of forever. Not when it means being with you."

When his lips found hers, it was different from their kisses in the blue room. No more the thrilling contrast of cold and heat - now they matched perfectly, two pieces of the same eternal darkness. His mouth moved against hers with desperate tenderness, centuries of longing poured into a single kiss. She tasted forever on his tongue, tasted the sweetness of decay that had always surrounded him, understanding now that it was the flavor of transformation itself.

His hands tangled in her hair as the kiss deepened, grew more urgent. She could feel his hunger - not for blood now, but for connection, for someone who finally understood what it was to be both monster and lover, both predator and willing prey. When she gasped against his mouth, it wasn't from the cold of his touch but from the intensity of feeling completely, perfectly known.

"My heart," he breathed between kisses, his lips trailing fire-frost down her throat, lingering over the marks that bound them together. "My eternal love."

Above them, voices echoed down the proper passage. They had found her trail, would reach them soon. But in that moment, with Jimin's arms around her and eternity singing in her blood, Saffron found she couldn't fear what approached.

"They come to save you," Jimin murmured against her lips, though he made no move to release her from his embrace. "To return you to the sunlit world, to mortal days and human love." His fingers traced the marks on her throat with possessive tenderness. "As if you could ever go back now. As if you'd want to."

The voices grew closer, torch light beginning to flicker at the passage entrance. Saffron pressed herself closer to him, breathing in that sweet-decay scent that had become more precious than air. His cool hands slipped beneath her cloak, finding all the places he'd marked her as his own.

"There's still time," he whispered, though his grip tightened as if he couldn't bear to let her go. "Time to pretend this was all my doing, not your choice. They would believe it - that I enchanted you, corrupted you. You could return to your father's love, to gardens in daylight..."

"No," she caught his face between her hands, making him meet her gaze. In the ancient mirrors surrounding them, their reflection rippled like water - sometimes male and female, sometimes both, sometimes neither. All the faces he'd worn across centuries, all the loves he'd known and lost. "I choose this. I choose you."

His kiss turned desperate then, hungry with more than blood-need. She met his passion with her own, understanding now that this was what he'd been waiting for across centuries - not just a victim to feed upon, but someone to share his endless night. Someone who would want the darkness as much as he did.

"Saffron!" Her father's voice shattered their moment, echoing off ancient stone. "Dear God - get away from that monster!"

They broke apart slowly, reluctantly, though Jimin kept one arm around her waist. The hunters filed into the chamber, crosses raised, stakes ready. Her father's face transformed with horror as he saw how willingly she leaned into Jimin's embrace.

"Step away from him, child," Rheinfeldt commanded, his voice tight with barely contained fury. "Before it's too late."

"It was too late the moment I saw her," Jimin said softly, his cool fingers intertwining with hers. "Or perhaps the moment she saw me for what I truly was, and chose to love me anyway."

"She's enchanted," her father pleaded, taking a step forward. "Whatever hold you have on her-"

"No enchantment," Saffron interrupted, feeling Jimin's arm tighten protectively around her waist. "No thrall, no corruption. Every choice was mine." She touched the marks on her throat, watching her father flinch at the gesture. "From the first moment in the blue room, every surrender was willing."

The hunters spread out in a practiced formation, their crosses casting sacred light that made shadows dance across the ancient mirrors. But Saffron noticed something strange - the holy symbols that had burned her eyes in the wagon now seemed to hold no power. The transformation was complete, then. She was truly his.

"Like my Bertha," Rheinfeldt's voice cracked with rage and grief. "She grew weaker each day, speaking of strange dreams she could barely remember. A beautiful visitor in the night - we didn't understand until it was too late. Until she was gone."

"Yes," Jimin acknowledged softly. "She was sustenance, like the others before her. I won't deny my nature, or the lives I've taken." His arms tightened around Saffron. "But this... this is different. For the first time in centuries, I chose to reveal myself fully. To walk in twilight rather than just shadow."

"You're a creature who feeds on innocent girls," Rheinfeldt snarled. "Who drained my daughter in her sleep while she thought she was merely dreaming!"

"I am what I am," Jimin replied, no denial in his voice. "A predator, yes. A hunter of mortal life. But Saffron..." His cool fingers traced her face with a tenderness that belied his deadly nature. "She is the first I've wanted beside me in this eternal night. The first to know me fully, to choose this darkness freely."

"Choose?" Her father's voice broke on the word. "You've been planning this since she was a child! That first night visit years ago - you marked her then, didn't you? Chose her to be your victim?"

"I marked her as mine, yes," Jimin admitted. "But I returned to claim her as an equal, not just feed. For the first time in centuries, I wanted more than simple sustenance. I wanted..." His eyes met Saffron's with ancient longing. "I wanted someone to share this endless night."

"Spread out," Rheinfeldt commanded the hunters, his voice hard with purpose. "Remember your training. The crosses will weaken him, but only the stake will end this."

The hunters moved with practiced efficiency, forming a circle around the lovers. Their torches cast wild shadows across the ancient mirrors, making it seem as if dozens of copies of Jimin and Saffron were trapped within the tarnished glass.

The sweet-decay scent grew stronger as Jimin tensed behind her. She could feel something building in the air - a power older than the stones around them, something dark and hungry awakening. The shadows between the columns began to move in ways shadows shouldn't.

"Last chance, child," Rheinfeldt warned, raising his own stake. "Step aside."

But Saffron stayed where she was, arms spread to shield Jimin, though she felt him trying to pull her behind him. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Then you leave us no choice." Rheinfeldt's face hardened. "On my signal-"

The chamber suddenly plunged into darkness as every torch extinguished simultaneously. In the chaos that followed, Saffron felt Jimin's cool hands grasp her waist, spinning her away from the hunters' blind strikes. His lips found her ear in the perfect darkness.

"Trust me?" he whispered.

The absolute darkness held no secrets from her changed eyes. She could see everything with perfect clarity - the hunters stumbling with their useless torches, her father's desperate face as he called her name, Rheinfeldt trying to maintain formation despite the chaos.

"Always," she breathed back to Jimin, feeling his arms tighten around her.

The shadows themselves seemed to come alive, flowing like liquid darkness around them. Jimin's cool lips found hers in a desperate kiss as the chamber's ancient mirrors began to shatter one by one, their breaking a symphony of destruction that echoed off stone walls.

"No!" Her father's voice cracked with terror. "Saffron!"

But she was already moving with Jimin, his grace becoming hers as they danced between the hunters' blind strikes. Each broken mirror seemed to release more darkness into the chamber, until the very air felt thick with shadow. The sweet-decay scent that always surrounded him grew overwhelming, making everything feel dreamlike yet terribly real.

"The entrance!" Rheinfeldt shouted. "Don't let them reach-"

His words cut off as more mirrors shattered, their breaking glass a terrible music. Saffron felt Jimin guiding her toward something - not the passage she'd entered through, but another way, hidden behind centuries of shadow and secret.

"I won't let them take you from me," he whispered against her hair as they moved. "Not now. Not ever."

The passage twisted deeper, each step taking them further underground. But Saffron began to notice something changing in Jimin's movements - a growing heaviness, a reluctance in his perfect grace.

"The sun," he murmured, his voice tight with ancient compulsion. "Dawn approaches. I can feel it, even this far below."

She understood then - why he hadn't simply fled the monastery, why this hidden passage led down rather than out. Like in all the old tales, he was bound to his resting place during daylight hours. The transformation in her blood wasn't complete enough yet to save him from this curse.

"Here," he said finally, as the passage opened into a smaller chamber. Unlike the ceremonial tomb above, this space felt truly ancient. A stone sarcophagus lay at its center, its surface worn smooth by centuries. This wasn't for show or ceremony - this was where he truly slept between nights, between hunts, between loves.

"I cannot fight it," he whispered, his movements becoming more sluggish as dawn's power reached even here. "The sun calls me to sleep, as it has for centuries."

Behind them, the hunters' voices grew closer. They knew these passages too - some ancient knowledge passed down through generations of those who hunted his kind.

"The sun," Jimin whispered, his legs buckling as dawn's ancient power reached even these depths. "I can't..." For the first time, she saw real fear in those eternal eyes - not fear of death, but fear of leaving her.

"Then we face it together," Saffron said softly, supporting his weight. The stone sarcophagus waited before them, its surface worn smooth by centuries of use. When she pushed against the heavy lid, it moved as easily as the blue room's curtains had once done.

Jimin looked up at her with something like wonder, even as the dawn's power pulled at him. "You would choose this? An eternity of darkness, of daylight deaths, just to stay with me?"

"I chose you the moment I let you into my room," she whispered, helping him toward his resting place. The silk-lined interior seemed to welcome them both, as if it had been waiting for this moment across centuries. "Every step since then has led to this."

His cool fingers found her face, tracing its changed features with desperate tenderness. "So many years," he breathed, pulling her down with him into the sarcophagus's embrace. "So many loves lost to time. I never dared hope..." His voice caught as she settled against him, her head finding that perfect place over his heart. "Never dared dream someone would choose to share this curse freely."

"Not a curse," she murmured, feeling his arms tighten around her as dawn's power grew stronger. "A different kind of love. The kind that transforms completely." Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, seeking those twin scars above his heart - mirror images of the marks he'd left on her breast. "The kind that lasts forever."

"My heart," he breathed against her hair, his perfect features already taking on that death-like stillness. But his embrace remained strong, possessive, eternal. "My love... my everything..."

The sweet-decay scent that had always surrounded him enveloped them both now, roses on the edge of transformation. She felt her own body beginning to respond to dawn's approach, that same ancient sleep calling to her changed blood. It should have frightened her, this descent into temporary death, but in his arms it felt right. Perfect. Inevitable.

"Every dawn," Jimin murmured, his fingers threading through her hair even as the sun's distant power made his movements slower. "Every dawn for eternity, we'll sleep like this. No more solitary deaths, no more waking alone." His cool lips found her forehead, lingering there. "You've ended centuries of loneliness with a single choice."

Their bodies fit together perfectly in the silk-lined space, as if his resting place had been waiting for her all along. She could feel his heart slowing beneath her cheek, matching rhythm with her own as dawn approached. The sweet-decay scent surrounded them like a veil, making everything feel dreamlike yet achingly real.

"I love you," she whispered against his chest, where those ancient scars lay. "Beyond death, beyond daylight, beyond everything they think they know about monsters and victims." Her fingers traced patterns on his cooling skin. "I choose this. Choose you. For every dawn, every dusk, every eternal moment between."

His arms tightened around her with desperate possession. "My heart," he breathed, voice growing fainter as the sun's power pulled at them both. "My eternal love..." His perfect features were taking on that death-like stillness, but his eyes still held hers with centuries of longing finally fulfilled.

"Here!" Rheinfeldt's voice echoed distantly, torchlight spilling into their sanctuary. But Saffron could barely keep her eyes open now, the daylight's power drawing her down into that strange sleep alongside her love.

"Together," Jimin whispered, his last word before dawn claimed him completely. She felt his arms lock around her, ensuring that even in death-sleep, they wouldn't be separated.

The last thing she saw was her father's face, transformed by horror as he realized what she'd become, what she'd chosen. But she couldn't bring herself to regret, not with Jimin's eternal embrace holding her as they descended together into daylight's dark dreams.

The torchlight cast wild shadows as the hunters crowded into the chamber, their crosses and stakes at the ready. But they hesitated at the sight before them - not a monster and his victim, but two lovers entwined in death-like sleep, their faces bearing identical expressions of perfect peace.

"Dear God," her father whispered, the stake trembling in his grip. "Saffron..."

"She's chosen to join him in his curse," Rheinfeldt said grimly, though something like pity crossed his weathered features. "Look how she lies with him - not in thrall, but in love."

Their bodies were intertwined intimately in the silk-lined sarcophagus - Saffron's dark hair spilled across Jimin's chest, his arms locked around her in eternal protection, their faces close as if they'd been sharing secrets when dawn took them. Even in death-sleep, his grip on her remained possessive, ensuring nothing could separate them.

"We must end this," one of the hunters urged, raising his stake. "Before nightfall-"

"Wait," her father stepped forward, reaching a trembling hand toward his daughter's face. But he pulled back before touching her, seeing how perfectly she matched Jimin's ethereal stillness. "She's smiling. Even in this cursed sleep, she's smiling."

Indeed, both their faces held expressions of profound peace - no sign of the monster he'd been hunting, no trace of the innocent girl they'd come to save. Just two eternal lovers, finally united after centuries of searching.

Yes, let me move us toward the ending. Let's maintain the emotional weight while bringing it to its conclusion:

"She's my daughter," her father whispered, moving closer to the sarcophagus despite the hunters' warnings. "My little girl who loved roses and poetry. Who blushed at dinner parties and dreamed of romance." His hand hovered over her peaceful face. "And now look - she's found a love so consuming she'd choose eternal darkness for it."

"A cursed love," Rheinfeldt reminded him, but his voice held more sorrow than rage now. "No matter how beautiful it appears."

The hunters readied their stakes again, but with visible reluctance. The scene before them defied everything they'd been taught about the monsters they hunted. Jimin's eternal face showed only love as he held Saffron, his entire body curved around her protectively even in death-sleep. Her hand still rested over his heart, where those twin scars lay beneath his shirt - mirror images of the marks he'd left on her.

"The sun climbs higher," one hunter warned. "If we're to act, it must be now."

Her father straightened suddenly, something resolute crossing his features. "No."

"What?" Rheinfeldt stepped forward. "You can't mean to-"

"Look at them," her father gestured to the eternal lovers. "Really look. My daughter made her choice. For the first time in his centuries of existence, he revealed himself fully to someone. Offered transformation instead of just taking life." His voice caught. "Who are we to destroy a love strong enough to transform death itself?"

Silence fell in the ancient chamber as the hunters looked between themselves, stakes lowering one by one. Even Rheinfeldt seemed to deflate, years of vengeful purpose draining away as he watched how tenderly Jimin held Saffron in their shared sleep.

"Then we seal this place," Rheinfeldt finally said. "Let them have their eternal love, but contained where they can harm no others. It's... it's more mercy than I ever thought to show such a creature."

Her father stepped forward one last time, looking down at his daughter's peaceful face. He withdrew something from his coat - her mother's rosary, worn smooth by years of prayers. With trembling fingers, he placed it in the sarcophagus beside them.

"For whatever peace it might bring you, my daughter," he whispered. "In whatever eternal life you've chosen."

The hunters worked efficiently but quietly, as if hesitant to disturb the lovers' rest. Ancient stone groaned as they sealed the chamber's entrance, ensuring no mortal would stumble upon this sanctuary of eternal love. The last torch light caught Jimin and Saffron's still faces, casting them in a golden glow before darkness claimed the chamber completely.

As sunset approached, color began returning to their still forms. Jimin woke first, his eternal eyes opening to the perfect darkness of their sanctuary. His first conscious thought was surprise - he had expected stakes, not survival. His arms tightened instinctively around Saffron as she stirred against his chest.

"We're alive," she whispered, her transformed vision adjusting to the darkness that would now be their eternal home. Her fingers found something beside them - cool beads worn smooth by years of devotion. "My father's... my mother's rosary."

Jimin's cool fingers traced her face in the darkness. "They chose mercy," he said softly, wonder in his ancient voice. "In all my centuries, I've never known hunters to..."

"They saw our love for what it truly was," Saffron touched the rosary again, feeling the weight of her father's final blessing. "Not a curse or a corruption, but a choice. A transformation." She lifted her face to his in the perfect dark. "Our eternal choice."

The sealed chamber held no terror for them now - it was their sanctuary, their palace of shadows. Somewhere far above, her father and the hunters were sealing them away from the mortal world. But here in the darkness, Jimin's cool lips found hers with centuries of longing finally fulfilled.

"Every sunset," he whispered against her mouth. "Every sunset for eternity, we'll wake like this. Together."

The sweet-decay scent filled their sanctuary as they held each other in the perfect darkness, the rosary a reminder of both what they'd left behind and what they'd gained. Above them, they could hear the hunters at work - stone grinding against stone as they sealed the chamber.

"Listen," Jimin murmured, his fingers threading through her hair. "They build our eternal home." There was still wonder in his voice, as if he couldn't quite believe the mercy they'd been shown. "No more hunting in shadows, no more solitary dawns."

Saffron touched the rosary once more, imagining her father placing it beside them while they slept. Such a human gesture of love, a blessing for an inhuman existence. "He understood, in the end," she whispered. "They all did."

Her father's voice drifted down to them as the final stones were moved into place: "What do we tell the household?"

"The truth," they heard him say, his words carrying a father's grief and acceptance. "That love transformed her completely. That she chose an eternal night with him over all our mortal days."

The last echoes of movement faded above them as the hunters completed their work. The chamber settled into its perpetual darkness, but neither of them feared it now. This was their realm, their paradise of shadow.

Jimin drew her closer in the darkness, his cool lips finding the marks on her throat that had sealed their eternal bond. The chamber that should have been their tomb had become their sanctuary instead, blessed by her father's final gift and the hunters' unexpected mercy.

"Dance with me," he whispered, pulling her to her feet in their perfect darkness. "Let's celebrate our first sunset of forever."

As they moved together, their steps echoing off ancient stone, her father's final words seemed to linger in the air - that love had transformed her completely, that she had chosen eternal night over mortal days. The rosary lay on their silk-lined resting place, a bridge between the world they'd left and the eternity they'd chosen.

Some say that on certain nights, when the moon is full and roses bloom their darkest, beautiful music can be heard drifting up from beneath the monastery ruins. Perhaps it's just the wind in ancient stones, or perhaps it's two eternal lovers dancing in their sanctuary of shadows, celebrating a love that defied both death and daylight.

In gardens nearby, roses grow wild and untamed, their petals darker than any natural bloom. Their sweet-decay perfume serves as a reminder of two souls who chose to transform death itself with the power of their love - a predator who learned to love truly, and a girl who chose darkness freely, dancing together through their eternal night.

[yelhsaart]

[btskitten7]

Midnight Bite| Introduction

Ship: Jeon Jungkook x Fem reader

au/genre: vampire!au royal!au arranged marriage.

rating: M

wc: 1.8k

Chapter warnings: little smut. POSSESSIVE JK. Blood mentions. (It's a vampy fic...) YOU ARE THE TOXIC ONE. JK is the perfect boyfriend.

summary: Jungkook, a powerful vampire king, is on a relentless pursuit to find his runaway bride. Their relationship is a complex dance of love, desire, and conflicting needs. Jungkook is determined to bring her back, but she yearns for freedom and independence. As the chase intensifies, the story delves into the complexities of their relationship and the sacrifices required to bridge their differences. Amidst a dark and mystical world, their destinies intertwine in a thrilling game of cat and mouse.

tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast

Jimin leaned against the polished wooden bar, his gaze fixed on his younger brother, a mixture of worry and frustration etched across his face. "Have you seen her?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency. Jungkook sighed irritably, his expression mirroring his annoyance. "I haven't seen her anywhere. I don't even know if she's arrived yet," he replied, his words tinged with exasperation. Jimin furrowed his brows, his curiosity getting the best of him. "But you're a vampire, a king no less. Why don't you simply command your servants to bring her to you?" he questioned, hoping for a simple solution. "If only it were that simple," Jungkook replied, Jimin poked his head up “Better yet, why don’t you find another? You have plenty of others at your feet.” 

“Well first,” He started “If it was that easy, don’t you think I would have done it already? She’s avoiding what she truly wants. It’s just her way of…testing me. She just wants to see if I will go to lengths to have her. Which I am. I don’t want another. I want what was promised to me. I want what I’m obsessed with. You would never understand brother.” 

Jungkook had a moment of reminiscing about an intimate moment between you two that almost stopped him in his tracks. Your touches, kisses, calling his name—it was all so addicting for him.  He knew another couldn’t give him what you gave him. 

He knew what you were running from but he wished you would just let him fix what needs to be fixed. 

He needed you to trust him and trust him fully. He has been proving himself to you for years now. He doesn’t know what else he could do to prove to you that he can be everything you ever needed but that never stops him from trying. 

Every time he would get you where he wanted you, you’d pull the rug from underneath his feet and vanish—starting the dreadful game yet again.

‘It’s not safe out here my princess, my queen.’ he murmured to himself looking through the crowd, trying not to get annoyed with all the sweaty humans bumping into him with this awful music playing in the background. 

Jimin growled as another sweaty jock bumped into him, spilling their beer all over his expensive suit. 

While Jungkook was patient, mainly because you were more important to him than some college boy looking for a fuck and cannot handle his liquor, Jimin was not. 

“Don’t lose focus brother. We need to bring my princess home.” Jungkook said as he continued to push anyone and everyone out of his way as your scent got stronger and stronger. 

“If one more of these lowlifes spill their beverage on me, we’ll be on the most wanted list.” 

Jungkook chuckled as he continued to move through the crowd, feeling your presence grow stronger and closer. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Hold it together, it’s not much longer brother, I feel my baby.” 

You were twirling your hair as you pretended to be interested in what this kid was talking about. He was going on and on about his car and how the blah, blah —you didn’t care. You were more interested in how he tasted. He got into a fight with some guys earlier, and you could smell his cut from a mile away, truly captivating you. You were hopeful he would taste delicious, you could tell from the scent he gave off. Truthfully, that’s the only reason why you were here. 

While he kept talking, you looked around the club growing bored with this conversation when your eyes landed on someone you hadn’t seen in so long. A small giggle left your lips as you knew that the night just got more interesting. 

‘Jungkook,’ you said bitterly, rolling your eyes the moment you locked a mutual gaze, just being a little teased as you were. Of course, he’d find you here. That’s what makes it fun. 

There’s no real reason as to why you were playing this game with him. He’s an amazing guy and he’s respectful. No red flags are to be seen. If anything, it was more of the terms to which you are agreeing. 

You wanted to be queen. You even wanted to be his queen. You just didn’t like that his parents already had a planned step-by-step timeline you two had to follow. 

‘You need to be married by this date and pregnant with your first child by this date. You need to make these appearances and make sure you are always doing this–’

It was too much for you. You liked to do things, naturally. Your parents always allowed you to do things more naturally, that was the reason you agreed to marry Jungkook because you were naturally attracted to him. You guys hit it off as soon as you had the first ‘date’. Both of your parents planned a ball for the two of you to meet and mingle. You and Jungkook were attached at the hip. You looked like a couple as you guys walked around the ballroom, dancing, talking, just enjoying one another.

He was perfect. He is perfect. The terms? Not so much. 

You knew it could be fun but with his parents having their hand in everything, you knew it’d be a pain in the ass. 

A smirk grows on Jungkook’s face as he heads closer to you until he sees the man you’re talking to. His smirk instantly turns to a frown. His tongue pushed the inside of his cheek as he grew closer. You followed his eyes on the man and smirked, turning your attention back to him, you gave him a flirtatious nod as if you’d been paying attention to his dreadful rambling. Your hand rested on the man’s lap as you laughed as if his joke was actually funny. You just wanted to piss Jungkook off. And boy did you do a great job at it. Seeing him so worked up and so possessive was toxic but it was the sexiest you’ve seen him. 

You are fully aware that you are the toxic one in this relationship.

Jungkook’s eyes were dark as he looked at the man next to you. Once he got close enough he snatched your hand off of the man’s lap, instantly.  

“What the fuck are you doing, sir?” Jungkook looked at the man with so much disgust but tried to remain as normal as he possibly could, but you could tell his attitude was flaring up. 

You giggled softly as you crossed your legs, allowing your already too-short of a dress raise to show your thigh. All three men look as your honey skin is exposed. Jimin cleaned his throat as he tried to look in another direction. The guy turns to Jungkook and begins to stutter to which you roll your eyes again. ‘Such a weak man’ you thought to yourself. 

Your perfectly manicured nails danced across the bar before you slightly turned the guy’s face back to you, tilting your head. 

“We were talking, right? Tell me more, baby.” You seductively continue, “You’re so sexy when you talk about cars. Please tell me more.” 

His jaw dropped at your voice and how you were talking to him. Jungkook was growing more irritated. The mere fact that you called this low-life baby and not him was fucking him up in the head. He couldn’t believe it. 

“I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing, talking to my fiancée?” Jungkook smirked. 

“H-huh?! Y-your fiancee? Sh-she never said anything about being engaged” 

The man frantically looked between you and Jungkook as you sat there unbothered. 

“Why must you always ruin my fun, Prince, it was harmless,” you said in your native language between vampires to which Jungkook responded. 

“Because you’re mine, no matter what you think. The sooner you get that through your head the sooner we can get to the more fun parts” 

“I only wanted to feed. Can’t you see how yummy he smells?” You pouted and crossed your arms as Jimin held his hand out for you to hold onto. Giving him a small smile, you took his hand and stood to your feet. 

“Come, Princess. Let’s go now.” Jimin said. “I’ll take you feeding later,” Jungkook added. 

You rolled your eyes and allowed Jimin to escort you out of the club. 

~~~~~~

“Why do I have to chase you all the time? Why can’t you just stay put, Princess” Jungkook asked, rubbing your thighs softly. You laid your head on his chest as your right leg rested on his lap. 

“I was trying to feed. That’s all. I was coming back,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook chuckled and planted kisses on your neck. He loved it when you were obedient to him. Everything felt so perfect. 

“I know you, I’ve always had to come find you to bring you back home, you were never coming back. At least not until you needed me to fulfill your needs.” 

“That is not true! You always come to find me and  never give me a chanc-”

You bite back your response when you feel his hands push your legs open. A small whine falls from your lips. 

“If I won’t give you want you wa-want when you want it, w-why don’t you take your parents up o-on their offer of finding another?” You pushed out as his hands got close to your core.

“Because baby…” he started, “I don’t give a damn about what my parents want and you’re my property. I own you and you know I’m the only one that can make you feel good,” he expressed, grazing his fangs across your neck drawing another moan from your lips. 

“Y-you’re too controlling. You always think I’m doing something against you. I’d never hurt you, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh in the crook of your neck. 

“Because you do shit like this. Time and time again, I’m out looking for you because you don’t know how to stay still. Daddy fucks you, you stay for a few weeks, then you leave. So disrespectful, baby.”  

His fingers worked on your core softly as he listened to your pants and moans fill the car. He had no regard for his brother driving the car who’s getting captivated by your moans as well. You hid your face in his chest as he still toyed with you, your wetness began to pool underneath you. Jungkook chuckled as he began to slip his fingers between your folds. 

“Are you ready to stay put and let me take care of you?” Jungkook whispered in your ear. 

He had you. You couldn’t escape this man, he has you wrapped around his finger. Literally. Finally, you decided to give up and give in to him. 

“Y-yess.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, d-daddy” 

”Jungkook chuckled pleased as you finally came to. 

“If you’d stay put like a good girl…we wouldn’t have this problem. Would we?”

[10piece-chicken-mcnug]

Ppl who make my pussy throb…

[spookyserenades]

Sanctity - Chapter Two

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; 20.3k

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WELCOME BACK! I love you all. I'd like to highlight some warnings here for this chapter straight off the bat: there are major dub-con moments in this chapter of sexual nature. Multiple character deaths, suicidal thoughts, abuse, and quite a bit of graphic gory scenes are included in this update. Please know this is a work of HORROR FICTION as well! This got especially macabre because it's like ice age in New England LMAO. I hope you all enjoy this update and kisses from yours truly, Dana <3

WARNING! There are instances of DEATH, gore and dubious consent. This work of fiction does not remotely reflect members of BTS in reality. The boys are written to be toxic in Sanctity (yandere). Please be warned if this is triggering to you.

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How much time passed, Y/N did not, nor would she ever, know. Bit by bit, the first thing that returned to her was her sense of smell– something thick and smoky filling her nostrils, maybe an offertory incense blend from the chapel. The second sense was her hearing, and still expecting the Sanctuary’s bell tower to wake her up, her body went stiff when she heard old-timey music and several different male voices. Shit– the next thing she was aware of was her recent memories. 

Eyes flying open, she was laying down on some kind of upholstered settee, still wearing the velvet mini dress from dinner, which was almost hiked up around her hips. Horrified and woozy from both her blood being drained, multiple glasses of wine and liquor, and her state of exposure, she sat up abruptly. Staring down at her freshly polished toes, bare and lacking the fancy heels she was wearing earlier, Y/N froze at the sound of her name being called while she pulled her dress back down, her mind jumping to a conclusion that one of them actually touched her while she was unconscious. 

“Finally awake? You’d think after that meal, you’d at least be able to stand on your feet once Seokjin bit you. He hardly took anything,” Jeongguk approached her first, holding a cue stick and staring down at her with a smirk. He had ditched his sports jacket, the first few buttons on his white shirt pulled free and his tie hanging limply around his neck.

Scrambling to a fully seated position, Y/N saw that her shoes were nowhere to be seen, and she had been carried by someone into the billiard’s room adjoining the space where they had dinner. Perhaps one of the vampires removed her shoes so she couldn’t use the stilettos as a pointed weapon. Sick to the back teeth of being teased and manipulated, especially when she felt her neck and wrist throbbing and saw how perfectly healthy Jeongguk had become after drinking her blood, her eyes narrowed nearly shut. 

“I’m sure it was the fucking wine glass he slit my wrist into was what prevented me from having normal goddamn footing,” Y/N fumed as best she could with a completely dried-out throat, Jeongguk’s smirk widening and showing his teeth at the outburst. 

“What a filthy mouth you’ve got, ma chérie,” Hoseok teased through laughter, all while leaning over a massive pool table and aiming his cue at a white ball. The new nickname from the ex-pirate, whatever language it came from, had her feeling belittled and repulsed– even if Hoseok’s drawl was soulful and spellbinding. It was as if in her slumber, she had managed to grow an even stronger spine. 

“My name’s Y/N, not whatever you just called me. Not pet, not ‘little girl,’ not ‘dove’. If you’re all going to torture me, at least afford me the favor of not patronizing me,” Y/N stood, making sure to make pointed eye-contact with both Hoseok and Jimin; the latter of which was lazily draped on another settee across the room with a cordial glass and a lit cigar. 

“Ah, true colors. I hoped you were as meek as you pretended to be yesterday afternoon, but it seems my initial suspicions were correct. How tiring,” Seokjin was by the fireplace, not sparing her a glance as the flames illuminated his side profile. He appeared to be the only one with his suit still flawlessly intact, one of his hands buried in the pocket of his slacks while the other braced his weight on the marble mantle. 

“Who carried me in here?” Y/N ignored Seokjin, trying to find her shoes. For some reason, her bare feet on the marble had her feeling more vulnerable than her disheveled dress. 

“No one violated you, girl,” Seokjin snapped, all while ignoring her request to remove pet names from his vocabulary. The fog of Jeongguk entering her mind and offering up her secret thoughts to the eldest vampire made Y/N wince, spurring her foolish outburst to go beyond the reach of her control.

“That wasn’t my question,” Y/N’s hands balled into fists, so blind with rage and the instinct to battle for her life that she snapped. “Stay out of my head, you!” 

Y/N all but spat at Jeongguk while pointing at him, the young vampire still wearing that infuriating grin, Y/N storming past him with her feet slapping against the Italian marble to confront Seokjin. Again, a part of her was screaming that Jeongguk could be her kin as he watched, with his youthful appearance– the only thing that had her storming by was the demonic color of his irises. 

At first, she was blasting by the youngest vampire and barreling towards Seokjin, however, a palm covered in buttery leather wrapped around the base of her throat that stopped her in her tracks effectively, harshly. Met with cold, glowing red eyes, Y/N could hardly crane her neck up at Namjoon towering over her, Seokjin sighing from behind Namjoon. 

“If you must know, pest, I brought you in here. Watch your tongue and know your place,” Namjoon’s fingers flexed against the sides of her throat, dark hair in his eyes when Y/N felt the rush of blood in her arteries frantically trying to find a place to go. Paired with the sting of the leather rubbing against Seokjin’s earlier bite, Y/N heeded Namjoon’s warning and nodded as best she could just so he would let her go. 

“Did you not see what Namjoon-ah could do during dinner? If his power can affect Jimin that strongly, what do you think it can do to you?” Seokjin cut in softly, snapping his fingers once. With the sharp sound that contrasted the vampire’s dulcet tone, Namjoon released Y/N’s throat immediately, leaving her to double over and gasp for breath. “Let’s make one thing clear. You can curse at us as much as you please, but do not think you are above being punished for rash actions. I can promise you, I am not a merciful man– Namjoon-ah even less so.”

Y/N felt defeat again, the spark of rebellion in her extinguished thoroughly. The shiny black shoes and pressed pants in front of her seemed blurry, Namjoon towering over her like a steel wall. When she could straighten up again, Y/N flinched at the vampire’s expression: hateful, but the mean smile on his face created sweet little dimples on his cheeks, which contradicted just about everything else about the vampire. His expression, in the best translation Y/N could come up with, was someone contemplating just how to tear another piece by piece with relish.

“Will you drain me dry like your last acolyte?” ​​Y/N rasped, addressing Seokjin but still staring straight at Namjoon, as if one small movement from her would have him lunging. 

Hearing Jimin’s light snickering from across the room did nothing but heighten Y/N’s  humiliation about being put in her place once more. Glancing at him, she spotted Yoongi in the corner, a sketchbook in his lap and apparently not paying any attention to the spectacle. Also disinterested was Taehyung, leafing through a newspaper and puffing on a cigar he was sharing with Jimin. 

“Maybe,” Seokjin hummed, letting Namjoon fall back into the shadows beside an old phonograph still playing age-weathered music. “Maybe not. Behave, and there’s no reason to fear for your life.”

“She wants to shorten her sentence, Seokjin,” Yoongi finally interjected, fingertips covered in inky charcoal. Darkly, Y/N thought that perhaps Yoongi might be the one with the most sense, and that wasn’t saying much. 

“Ever play pool, Y/N?” Hoseok asked suddenly, injecting enough snark into the girl’s name rolling off of his tongue to have her grimacing. 

“Doubt she’s ever even played checkers, Hoseok,” Jeongguk replied, yanking his tie dangling over his shoulder and tossing it on the floor. While leaning over the table to take his own shot, Y/N’s vision focused on the lean, hard-muscled frame Jeongguk had: the thin button-down he had on strained against his toned arms and his sides as he lined up the pool cue between his index and middle fingers. Namjoon aside– there would be no way she could ever be a match to Jeongguk alone.  

“Is it permitted for me to retire now?” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, muscles in her legs twitching when the petty side of her personality threatened to theatrically curtsy. Distantly, Jeongguk’s mouth corner curled up in amusement– catching the mental image she conjured.

“Say goodnight first, won’t you now?” Jimin trilled, voice curling seductively over the mosaic ceiling, and right when Y/N thought that she had recovered from Namjoon’s chokehold, Jimin was casting another deeply-rooted spell on her. “Taehyung has a question, don’t you?”

Taehyung. The one who so casually dared to impersonate someone close to her, to pretend to be Joseph. While she dreaded nothing more than even looking at the very vampire, Jimin’s roots were so quickly penetrating her bones she found with horror that she was no more than a puppet on a string for him. 

Not even seconds later, Y/N was stumbling over her own bare feet to get to the seating area where the two young vampires were– Yoongi still off to the side, Taehyung lowering his newspaper and passing the lit cigar to Jimin. While hyper aware of Jimin’s hold on her, Y/N’s attention was conquered by Taehyung’s intense, stony expression. Clearing his throat, the shiny gel that was previously taming his midnight waves during dinner was cracking, leaving piecey curls hanging in his face. 

“Tell me, now. Was my answer sufficient?” Taehyung began, tracing his pointer finger over his moistened lower lip, almost cherry red in color thanks to her blood affording him a complexion. 

Y/N’s eyebrows knit in confusion, every nerve in her body pulsing with a dim throb the longer Jimin kept her docile and hypnotized. 

“Huh?” Y/N’s eyelids were heavy, so she found herself batting her eyelashes more frequently than she normally did. “I didn’t ask you anything.”

“Master Taehyung was referring to his reply to you during dinner. Was his reply more or less something ‘Joseph’ would say? Was it enough, dove?”

 Jimin was staring at his nails, one of his trim shoulders slipping out from under his loose shirt collar, and Y/N– to her mortification– immediately thought that the garment had become quite useless, so why was Jimin even bothering to keep it on at all? To deepen her mortification, an amused snicker coming from Jeongguk had her wishing the stained glass lamp above him would come loose and sever his head from his shoulders. Jeongguk’s laughter only became louder when reading her murderous thoughts, the sound of it lively and boyish– not the laughter of a lethal creature. 

Y/N paused, rewinding her memory to dinner. At that time, she really believed that her friend Joseph had been permitted to visit her. Like a bucket of glacial water dumped over her head when realizing her own naivety, she also realized it wasn’t just Jeongguk who could reach into her mind– Jimin could do it, Seokjin could do it and share the way into her head with everyone else. Jeongguk wasn’t laughing anymore. 

“Joe– oh. You, I suppose. You said something about never forgetting me and writing frequently, no?” Y/N, under the puppet strings Jimin was using to keep her steady, was able to study Taehyung’s face with rapt interest; her rational self locked away in some dark corner of her mind. “I think that’s when the coherent part of me sensed something wrong. Joseph hates writing letters, and he’d never talk so sentimentally. Yeah, we were close, but like cat-and-mouse siblings.”

“Still, hyung. Jeongguk mentioned he could not accurately understand the girl’s thoughts at that moment. It seems… peculiar,” Namjoon’s voice, all velvet, filled the room, addressing the eldest vampire still watching the flames in the fireplace. 

“Peculiar? No. The most sound theory is that her thoughts were too animal and stupid for Jeongguk to hear, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin wasn’t fond of entertaining mysteries or anything that required him to put time and energy into, particularly if the subject matter surrounded a human being. “Forget it. We always deal with issues promptly, and I’m not deeming the girl’s slow mind an issue yet.”

“I suppose I can’t blame myself for not knowing what your acquaintance would say word for word. Jeongguk only had time to go through a handful of memories.”

Y/N didn’t like Taehyung’s dry, holier-than-thou attitude. He had zero decency to look her in the eye, rather looking through her and down his nose. Y/N sensed he was the type of man who had never heard the word ‘no’ in regards to anything. 

“Things have to happen in a timely manner, Y/N, you see? Everything is about timing– that is something I’ve learned again and again– Jeongguk had about half a second to comb through your mind before you would dissolve into complete hysterics. Complete hysteria from you, you’d have a drunk pirate giving you something worse to cry about,” Taehyung continued, giving Hoseok a deliberate, uninterested look when mentioning the ‘drunk pirate’. Hoseok wasn’t paying attention, too busy chalking up his pool cue to bother participating in the conversation. 

For a moment, all that Y/N could hear was a whooshing in her ears as Jimin’s hypnosis began to withdraw, her body promptly trembling with exhaustion as she stood before Taehyung. His tan suit, perfectly pressed, complimented his skin tone now that it was darker, his complexion probably resembling the healthiest peak of his human life. The gray veins over his temples were gone, and there were moles here and there splattered across his face. 

“That’s all… hmm, Jimin. Why don’t you call up to the second floor to make sure the human’s chambers are prepared for the night,” Taehyung gave Y/N one last cursory glance before plucking up his newspaper again. 

Y/N didn’t even hear Jimin waltz his way to an old-fashioned intercom system, murmuring something seductive into the device while his shirt began to pool around his elbows and expose nearly his entire chest and back. She only tuned in when she felt bizarre about standing in front of Taehyung so clearly dismissing her, a spark of hope at the idea of the privacy of her bedroom making her abruptly turn on her bare heels. 

“Awww, Juliana. That won’t do. Make sure her sheets are heated, too,” Jimin purred, Y/N getting the feeling that he was purposefully trying to prolong her time spent in the billiard’s room. “There will be a frost, come morning…”

Y/N separated herself from Taehyung’s proximity, trying to edge her way to the closest door, but unfortunately it was the one that was being watched by Namjoon still cloaked in the shadows. As she tried to look for an escape while hoping Jeongguk was distracted to notice her plotting, Y/N silently began to shuffle sideways.

Not that she got very far– as soon as Y/N reached a leather ottoman halfway to an unguarded door, she yelped when she lost feeling in her legs and promptly crumpled onto the piece of furniture. Her arms tried to brace her fall, but those limbs, too, were limp and refusing her brain’s command to move herself. 

“Nngh, ow! W-what?! What’s happening to me?” Y/N panicked, voice shrill and bouncing around the lofty room. Her body was completely limp, unable to flinch away even when someone began to arrange her legs by parting them, her dress riding up the back of her thighs again. 

Ascertaining who was touching her sans-permission was impossible, due to the fact that her cheek was squished against the ottoman and her line of sight was limited to a glass case filled with cigars. Humiliation licked Y/N’s skin with white-hot heat, no doubt in her mind the scrap of lace covering her modesty was somewhat on display as she was shaped to be bent over the ottoman. 

“Stop, s-stop, please. I can’t move—”

“Silenzio,” a deep, gritty voice was mere inches from her ear, the foreign word close enough to silence for her to get the hint. The record that was playing on the gramophone began to crackle, the needle scratching the label and needing to be flipped. “Stay put.”

“Like she can help it. You’ve paralyzed her,” Hoseok scoffed, trying to hide the fact that he was getting off on beating Jeongguk at their game of pool. It was looking like Hoseok would be driving Jeongguk’s Mercedes around town come morning. 

Paralyzed. Y/N had not a semblance of an idea of what she had done to cause offense to Yoongi, who was carding her hair over her shoulders methodically, but all she could do was lay there helplessly. His fingertips were warm on her forearm when he draped tresses over her waist in a sensual position, even going as far as to adjust how her fingers were splayed over her hip. 

“Master… master Y-yoongi…?” Y/N’s breath came out choppy, her diaphragm somewhat crushed thanks to her awkward weight distribution against the ottoman. 

“Noisy,” Yoongi murmured to himself, detached. Rolling his eyes, Hoseok set his cue down, approaching Yoongi and his current model with his hands on his hips. 

“If she’s so noisy, paralyze her face. You’re a complainer who hates solutions,” Hoseok watched while Yoongi gingerly stretched one of the girl’s arms out so it was hanging off the furniture.

Yoongi would go on and on about how he was capturing ‘yearning’, but to a vampire (and former buccaneer) who stole art for value, the girl was being positioned to get fucked against the ottoman. Pushing a hand through his hair, Hoseok snorted to himself. Now that he had a sufficient, consistent nutrient source, he could visit the girls at the cabaret again. It had been far too long since a woman had been under him and his mercy. 

“To paralyze the face would make the subject unworthy of being painted,” Yoongi replied plainly, like it was a practiced response, and with emphasis on his words the artist ever so slightly turned the girl’s head with a loose grip on her jaw. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and pretty crystalline tears gathered in her eyelashes, eyeliner smudging perfectly. It was like Yoongi’s lucky day. 

“You’re an odd–”

“Hoseok. Let Yoongi be done with it so she can leave,” Seokjin cut Hoseok off before he could start a cock fight. Jimin was already shivering with excitement at the idea of a dramatic altercation, and Seokjin caught it before he’d have to discipline him again. 

“You’re an odd immortal,” Hoseok ignored Seokjin, though physically, he retreated. That was good enough for Seokjin, who kept one eye on the younger vampire returning to his rum and billiard’s game. 

All the while, Y/N locked herself away in her own head. Perhaps, if she could reach some kind of meditative state, she could compartmentalize. The best she could do was focus on keeping her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the vampires for a second longer, and the sensation of tears dripping down her cheeks. 

“Are you resurrecting your proclivity for lewd portraiture, Yoongi?” Namjoon commented, straightening up at the sweet scent of hopeless tears, greedily soaking up the sight across the room. “That original collection of yours remains your finest work.” 

From where he was, he could see the arch of the girl’s back jutting her hips backwards, and in consequence, and the fleshy curves of her ass cheeks were just exposed enough to reveal lace between her legs. Namjoon, with amusement, knew that if he got just a little closer, he’d be able to smell her. 

“I wouldn’t coin that as lewd, Namjoon, just sloppy and lacking all of Yoongi’s former risk. It must have been some time since you have lain with a woman,” Jeongguk disagreed, aware that he was toeing a very thin line between a cold scoff from the elder vampire or experiencing his molten wrath. 

Namjoon, in a rare moment of mercy, hardened his expression, tearing his gaze from the apex of the acolyte’s thighs. The leverage that Jeongguk caught a perverted thought coming from Namjoon was enough, apparently. On the other hand, the youngest vampire was enjoying a morsel of information he pried out of the girl’s mind seconds prior all to himself, just for that moment: the acolyte did not mirror dirty thoughts that the coven was having. In fact, the more Jeongguk sifted through her memories, he realized with delight that she didn’t know the feeling of her own arousal– yet. Maybe Yoongi had observed that, keenly taking it upon himself to milk her confused, humiliated response. 

“Give Yoongi a month. He’ll have that acolyte stripped down completely and posing face down, ass up by then.”

Electric, enticing fear zapped through Y/N at the blithe, unflinching prediction that came from Seokjin out of the blue, and the scent of it triggered a heavy spill of lust to settle over the room. Jeongguk could feel it, and he knew his elders did too– though Seokjin was the picture of nonchalance. Jeongguk couldn’t think of a time when Seokjin preoccupied himself with pursuits of the flesh over the last century, therefore hearing him speak with plain vulgarity was jarring. 

“I’ll have to sit in on that session,” Jimin purred, hanging up the intercom with a grin. By then, he was aggravated with his infernal top, letting it fall from his elbows and pool to the floor in a heap.

In a flash, he was behind Yoongi, eyes sweeping over the charcoal sketch the elder vampire was working on. Yoongi’s hand moved so quickly across the paper, it was almost impossible to track. In fact, Yoongi had already sketched four different versions of the scene in front of him and used up an entire box of charcoal. Yoongi, with aggravated sigh, set his sketchbook down and tossed the empty box of charcoal across the room and into the roaring fire. Jimin, slyly, leafed through the sketches, comparing each to the actual model, a flirtatious impressed hum leaving his chest. 

“You should see these, dove. If you had wings, they’d be broken…” Jimin caught her eye, his posture stiffening at the tear her teeth made into her lower lip. He knew she was incredibly frightened, though he couldn’t help it, he wanted to up the intensity; the reward was far too tempting. Turning on the charm again, Jimin started to stalk towards her with one hand on his belt. 

“N-no!” Y/N whimpered pathetically, immediately thinking the worst when Jimin began to get closer. No matter how hard she tried to squeeze her thighs together, she couldn’t curl in on herself like she wanted to. “Oh, please–”

“‘If you had wings, they’d be broken’. God, is that how you made your fortune in theater and movies?”

“Hoseok, you still haven’t read Jimin’s plays? Or seen one of his films at the cinema?” Jeongguk spoke through chortles, really starting to feel the nourishment of the acolyte’s blood in his body. He felt alive again. 

“Usually sleep through ‘em, or I’m getting blow–”

���Yoongi, release her from Paralysis if you’re finished. Hoseok, head to the cabaret if you wish to keep drinking and whoring,” Seokjin finally moved away from the fire, his expensive loafers clicking against the floors. 

Jimin was only a few feet from Y/N, the vampire half-clothed and eager to rile her up a bit more before Seokjin could spoil the fun. To Jimin’s surprise, however, Y/N’s fear spiked acutely when Seokjin appeared, the eldest vampire kneeling beside her and blocking her view of him. With Seokjin so close, so suddenly, and fearing his status, Y/N’s tears came faster. 

“Please, just please! I just want to go upstairs! I d-don’t– I don’t want to…” Y/N broke down, and with Seokjin’s request to lift Paralysis, Yoongi watched as his power left her and the girl began to shake like a newborn fawn. Seokjin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Master S-seokjin, please, I want mmph–!”

Seokjin pressed his palm over the young acolyte’s mouth, half to shut her up, half to somewhat cover up the scent of her bloody lip. It was a charged situation– one he had complete control over, of course– but keeping the peace was important to Seokjin. 

It was abhorrent to him that he needed that nuisance of a little girl, one causing so much unrest, as he scanned the ruined makeup running down her cheeks. Though, the vitality thrumming through him and the rest of the coven was undeniable, thanks to her. Seokjin was about to call for the acolyte’s maids, lips dropping open, when she made things infinitely more dangerous. 

Since she had never been paralyzed by Yoongi, her body didn’t know how to come down from his influence. With her desperate pent up energy, unable to engage in fight or flight, once her shivering dissolved, Y/N’s limbs began jerking. With Seokjin’s hand still over her mouth, her back arched in order to get air to her crushed diaphragm, and instinctively, her thighs snapped shut. 

However, something unexpected struck through her when her legs pressed together, something she could only describe as warm and aching, and it caught her so off-guard that a strangled, confused moan left her lips and was muffled against Seokjin’s palm. A primal and unfamiliar urge had her wanting to chase that feeling, Seokjin’s surprised, wide eyes in front of her had the throb return, if not for a second– her hips squirming against the ottoman eagerly.

Studying him through watery eyes, Y/N felt like she needed to light a candle to Seokjin’s beauty, the jitteriness that came with Yoongi releasing her from paralysis causing her to seek out stability. Her index finger curled around Seokjin’s blazer cuff as if to anchor herself. It felt like minutes, but it was likely seconds, where every vampire in the room froze completely, not a whisper of sound following her muffled mew.

“Astonishing,” Taehyung broke the silence, setting his newspaper down and getting to his feet. Things took an interesting turn, for once. 

“Do not,” Seokjin commanded, but a breath though still firm. Y/N fidgeted, attempting to moisten her dry lips but only managing to give Seokjin’s palm an embarrassing kitten lick– which had him recoiling and pressing his hand more harshly against her face. “Control yourself, acolyte.”

Y/N didn’t know what that meant. Sure, the raw fear was still there, vehement hate flooding her body when Taehyung entered her line of sight, but the seductive drag of his fingertip tracing over her fragile shoulder blade elicited another unsure whimper.

“P-puh-mm,” Y/N switched to pleading again, wanting to jump off the great cliff where the mansion was settled beside more than ever. Seokjin’s gaze hardened, his throat bobbing. 

“Seokjin, come on. Look at her!” Hoseok was positively delighted, spotting arousal pulsing between her legs from miles away– not to mention smelling it. “Moaning and crying like a bitch in heat.”

“Enough,” Seokjin barked, though the demand was strangled.

Do not speak a word.

The eldest vampire’s voice cut through the fog in Y/N’s head urgently, and at once, he removed his hand from her face. With absence, he wiped the blood from her torn lip on his pristine pant leg, Y/N breathing heavily from her mouth now that it was free.

One word from you and I’ll leave you here with the young ones.

That was a dark enough threat from Y/N, though with mortification, she thinly whined at the thought of Seokjin making good on his promise– mistake. Bonelessly, she started to lift her torso from the ottoman, her skin hot and tacky, all while each vampire in the room tracked her every movement.

“Is she going to get sick?” Yoongi remarked with disgust, tucking his sketchbook away. He was decidedly ready to paint; and yes, it would be something to toy with the flustered acolyte, but capturing her misery would end up being more erotic to him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s feeling,” Jeongguk revealed blandly, smugly, leaning one of his trim hips against the billiards table. “She wants– probably you, Seokjin, to touch her, but she’s too dim to know that.”

“So all of that ‘purity’ propaganda about Sanctuary acolytes is true? They’re clueless virgins?” Hoseok had to swallow a great laugh, almost pitying the mortals.

“Just like the old days… Most girls had not the slightest idea what happened in the bedroom,” Jimin contributed to the conversation, an unsettling edge to his voice that had Y/N sniffling. 

Jeongguk began to fish around in her head more intensely, but Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot while her thighs squeezed together in pulses. Reading the acolyte’s thoughts, he hummed wickedly at the girl wondering what was so bad about being compared to the Virgin– the revered mother the Sanctuary worshipped. 

“She’s untouched,” Jeongguk revealed, Hoseok’s interest piquing sevenfold. Eyes glowing, Hoseok was standing beside Taehyung in a flash, a forearm resting on the younger vampire’s shoulder. Venom was flooding Hoseok’s mouth as soon as he caught a whiff of the wetness beginning to seep into the acolyte’s underwear, and Taehyung was thinking about all of the ways he could break her. 

Again, Y/N had no idea what the vampires were talking about. Nor did she know what was happening to her body, her skin sweaty and hyper-sensitive, and she couldn’t bear to look away from Seokjin. He looked like he was thinking very hard, red eyes sweeping over her body struggling to release what was building up inside of her. It took every ounce of strength she had left, but Y/N managed to struggle off of the ottoman, rocking backwards on her bare heels to a kneeling position. All the while, the finger curled around Seokjin’s jacket turned into a fistful of desperate fabric, the eldest vampire’s breath catching in shock over her sheer audacity.

“Help, it h-hurts,” Y/N whispered, throat dry. Beginning to come to the conclusion that coming down from Yoongi’s paralysis was what was making her feel so raw with nerves, she tried to plead with Seokjin despite his threat to leave her with the young vampires– the ones looking at her like she was dessert. “Master Seokj-jin, please, I want to–”

“Fuck?” Hoseok cut the acolyte off helpfully, filling in the blank that she was unaware existed. Things were spiraling out of control, and Hoseok was so entertained by Seokjin’s patience hanging by a thread that he decided to take things up a notch– perhaps finding out if he could elicit more of her slick to ruin her underwear. “A virgin begging for cock like a slut. Soaked pussy just from a few simple touches and words.”

The foreign, husky words from Hoseok had Y/N’s pulse quickening, humiliation licking her skin. To add to her mortification, she felt something wet rolling down one of her thighs, and when she looked down between her legs, she squeaked in alarm. With her free hand, shakily, her fingers swiped through the slick thinking it was sweat, but when she brought her hand up to take a closer look at filmy strings coating her digits, all hell broke loose. Seokjin cursed, sending out seven different mental commands– with additional forceful suggestions for staff that was still working– but even that wasn’t enough, so with a borderline bone-crushing embrace, Y/N was caged in his arms and as far away from the youngest vampires as possible. Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Jimin stared hungrily at the girl, trembling like a lamb, edible. 

“Hoseok, I told you if you wanted to fuck like a rutting animal, go see your whores,” Seokjin’s voice was loud, furious, and Y/N couldn’t breathe in his arms. Despite her acute fear and dislike for Seokjin, Y/N’s body reacted on its own, pressing backwards against his strong chest for protection. “Leave, Hoseok. Yoongi, this is your doing and there will be consequences. Remove the fledglings from the room. Go.”

There was no space to argue with Seokjin. His covenmates hadn’t seen Seokjin so enraged, not for decades, and before Jimin could pout and add fuel to the flames (or sink his teeth into the delicious acolyte), he was torn from the room with Yoongi’s grip around his wrist. One by one, in a split second, Yoongi collected the youngest vampires, and Hoseok was long out the door with the cabaret set as his destination. 

Once the immediate threats were gone, Seokjin all but shoved Y/N out of his reach, the girl caught by someone else before she could hit the floor. Nearly collapsing into his weight completely, leather gloves slipping over her dewy shoulders, Y/N at least knew who was touching her this time. That time, too, she realized she didn’t mind Namjoon touching her. After a prolonged period of time absorbed with Seokjin’s presence, Y/N was ashamed to admit that Namjoon could steal it effortlessly. Namjoon, like Seokjin, was infuriated; Y/N could tell by the way his jaw clenched dangerously. 

“Get her out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret,” Seokjin spoke through his teeth, but the volume of his demand was deadly quiet. The sound of it had a tingle rolling down Y/N’s spine, her skull still throbbing from Jeongguk sifting through her past, and Y/N thought that she might faint again. “Exercise restraint, Namjoon-ah.”

Surprise flickered in Namjoon’s eyes. Seokjin, normally, would have had him using Pain Illusion on the acolyte for her little stunt– even if she couldn’t help it. 

“Hyung?”

“I have calls to make. Take her upstairs,” Seokjin pushed a hand through his short choppy bangs, and he disappeared like he never was there in the first place.

Y/N winced when Namjoon tightened his hold on her with purpose, his expression turning rock-solid. The throb between her legs didn’t grow any weaker. Namjoon’s nostrils flaring, Y/N’s fear returned when a cold grin spread across the vampire’s face, his sharp fangs on display. However, if it weren’t for the fangs, Namjoon had one of the loveliest smiles in the world, and that broke Y/N’s heart, distantly. The vampire cocked his head and misread her train of thought.

“You’re absolutely terrified of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s head snapped up to make eye contact when Namjoon spoke, realizing her attention was lingering on the shape of his lips. Going rigid when the vampire stooped low, he got a firm hold of her naked calves. With one swift movement, Y/N was hoisted into the air and slung over Namjoon’s bulky shoulder. The immortal speed made her nauseous, a strangled sound coming from the back of her throat, one gloved hand squeezing the arm slung over his opposite shoulder, and the other cupped over the sensitive backs of her knees. Not allowing her to recover at all, Namjoon had the girl inside of her bedroom before she could take a breath. 

“Do not make me ask again, woman,” Namjoon cruelly dropped the girl from his hold only to pin her to a nearby wall by her hip. She groaned, Namjoon noting that if he applied just the slightest additional force, he could shatter her hip bone. 

“I need to s-sit down… where is N-nadia?” Y/N managed to get out, at war with how to answer him and praying furiously for someone to save her. She was having a primordial reaction to everything that had happened, and it was sapping the energy out of her. Namjoon snatched up one of her forearms in annoyance, the limb like a twig under his leather gloves. “No! Ow, no, I mean y-yes!”

Y/N could not take it anymore. She was hot, cold, contorting in pain and shivering with something else. She offered the truth. Sure, she was scared, but there was something else that was nameless to her. Was it… curiosity she felt?

“No? Let me offer you some advice,” Namjoon tsked, briefly wishing he could look into her mind like Jeongguk. “Don’t lie like that to Seokjin. Next time, he’ll have me skewer you.”

Y/N flinched, remembering the sword Namjoon had strapped to his back, and the fact that he was once commissioned to cut people down. His smile returned, scenting the dread pressing down on her. 

“See? Though, didn’t the butler tell you not to reveal your fear?” Namjoon ignored the venom that was pooling on his tongue, swallowing it quickly so he could keep up the taunts. Seokjin didn’t want to punish the human, but Namjoon wanted to. “Now we know what fear does to you.”

The girl was blinking at him, which had the immortal pausing. She was fixated on his mouth again, which caused a snarl to rip from behind his teeth. 

“What are you looking at? Are you so consumed by lust that your brain has melted?” Namjoon paired his words with a vicious yank of her arm, the hand on her hip moving to pinch her jaw. The back of her head hit the wall, Y/N crying out and completely powerless to self-preserve. “Tell me what you were staring at.”

“I don’t want to.”

Namjoon, in all his years of dealing with acolytes, had never encountered such a stubborn one. It had something dark possessing him, the thrum of her frightened pulse a stark contrast to the song her body was singing. Then, when he realized how close he had brought her wrist to his face, Namjoon caught the acolyte’s arousal still clinging to her fingers and acted on a baser desire that he hadn’t experienced in centuries. With one last pull, the acolyte’s fingers were in Namjoon’s mouth, the girl squealing in surprise.

“What are you doing?! That’s d-dirty,” Y/N cried, Namjoon’s wet tongue curling around her digits, his gaze still menacing and unfeeling. She dissolved on his palate, and with a quiet groan, Namjoon realized that her arousal tasted just as good as her blood. “I, hngh–”

Y/N focused back on Namjoon’s lips, which is what got her in that situation in the first place. Pursed around her soaked digits, she felt one of his fangs scrape against her index finger, and she pictured his smile in her mind again; the polar opposite to the demonic expression he was wearing at that moment. Perhaps, if she told him what she was looking at, he’d finally leave her alone. 

“Please! I was just admiring your smile!”

Whatever Namjoon was expecting the acolyte to say with her fingers nearly down his throat, it wasn’t that. Almost as if she dumped water over him, Namjoon’s eyes glazed over, his grip growing just weak enough for Y/N to pull her hand away from his mouth and fangs. Catching her breath, Y/N used his distraction to slip away, ducking under his arm. She knew that she wouldn’t get very far; indeed, Namjoon was quick to grab her by the back of her dress, the material tearing slightly with the force. 

“What did you just say to me?” Namjoon, for the first time to Y/N’s ears, spoke softly. The vampire, appearing to be unseeing, scanned her face, and Y/N almost got the feeling that he was seeing someone else in front of him. 

“I-I mean, you scare me, but when you, um. Your smile? It’s–” Y/N gulped, relieved that whatever was making her body produce what Namjoon had sucked off of her fingers was beginning to subside, pure exhaustion and defeat gripping her instead. “Beautiful. It’s beautiful, makes you less s-scary. I’m sorry if that offends you! Master Namjoon, but please, can you let me go?”

Y/N’s pleas barely had effort behind them. Bone-deep fatigue and confusion had her bedroom fading in and out of view, and all she desired was the down quilt on her bed to sink into. Soaking in her response, Namjoon released the girl, ancient memories coming back to him and making him promptly turn on his heel. He needed to come to his senses– the dim acolyte was not the woman in those memories, no matter that those precise words had only been spoken to him only once before, under very different circumstances. He was at the door before the human could collapse onto her bed, still aroused and uncertain. 

“One more piece of advice, acolyte,” Namjoon, still in the same, low tone, spoke. “Rather, a warning.”

A muffled, sad little moan came from Y/N, who was turned away on her side. She hadn’t even bothered to clean herself up, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the air hitting the damper areas of her body and the dull agony of her fresh wounds. 

“Innocence is a dangerous thing to possess around a vampire. Wise up, or you’ll be swallowed whole.”

Y/N was sick of hearing things she didn’t understand paired with threats, so she offered no verbal acknowledgement to his stupid advice. Not that Namjoon stuck around, the door shutting and leaving Y/N finally, finally alone. 

Her elation over that fact was temporary. A metal tinkling sound coming from where Namjoon was just standing had her eyebrows furrowing, something heavy sliding into place resolutely. That was when Y/N bolted upright with horror, the movement opening the punctures created by Seokjin’s earlier bite. 

Namjoon had locked her into the bedroom from the outside. 

“You reek of cum,” Taehyung, irritated that the elder strolling into the office was late, unbathed, and had a lace bralette hanging out of his suit pants. Taehyung, bitter venom filling his mouth, stuffed his pocket watch back into the pocket of his suit vest. “Abhorrent.”

“No showers at the cabaret. Let’s get this over with,” Hoseok shrugged, not as eager to prolong a dramatic meeting of the minds after he had fucked his way through the showgirls all night. 

“Sit down. I’ll make this brief,” Seokjin was all business. He spent the better part of his morning jumping down Yoongi’s throat, the artist still literally licking his wounds– tongue swiping over a bloodied– thanks to the acolyte– and torn lip. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” Hoseok interrupted Seokjin, realizing the immortal that filled any room with negative energy was absent. “You’re agonizing over my lateness, Taehyung, but not his?”

“Namjoon-ah and I will talk after,” Seokjin’s temple throbbed, using a handkerchief to clean the blood from one of his rings that cut into Yoongi’s lip. 

It was a gloomy, dark morning. The sun had barely even risen, so the low sources of lighting in the already moody office came from lit sconces and the fireplace. Jeongguk, by the window, tracked droplets of water coasting down the glass plane. With immortal eyes, he could detect the warps and imperfections in the hundred year old glass. It was far more entertaining than getting chewed up by Seokjin. Absently, the youngest vampire rolled up the sleeves of his cream colored sweater, caught off guard by the healthy caramel glow to his skin in contrast. He must have been walking around like a specter for too long, without a good donor. 

“Yoongi has been told to keep his work to his bedroom. From now on, if he wishes to have the acolyte model, it will be contained to that space,” Seokjin began, giving Yoongi a scathing glare. Yoongi’s mind was elsewhere, the front of his button down stained with blood and muted pigments of paint. 

“Well, that doesn’t seem so bad, hm? You aren’t going soft, are you, Seokjin?” Jimin, a touch tipsy from the night before and dressed in nothing but a patterned silk robe, was leafing through a first-edition copy of one of his early plays– something Hoseok collected years ago, apparently. “Hoseok! Where did you get this? You don’t even have the decency to read my tragedies, but you are comfortable stealing valuable copies?”

“Ah. That was from some gout-ridden aristocrat’s collection when we docked in Jamaica–”

“Last night will not be repeated,” Seokjin cut through the idle, infuriating chit-chat, Taehyung appearing just as relieved that the eldest was moving things along in a timely manner. “I will not allow this coven to be reduced to a pack of animals simply because of a human. I do not care if she is a tempting muse to you, an entertaining plaything, or a virgin to defile. No one is to touch the girl unless to feed.”

The silence would be considered unsettling by anybody, mortal or otherwise. Yoongi was the only one who wasn’t absolutely bewildered by the strictness of Seokjin’s order, considering he had already been briefed during his beat down. Normally, the head of the coven would let the six younger vampires toy with their acolytes as they pleased, indifferent– but not that time around.

“How are we to feed without touching her, Seokjin? Are we koi in your royal garden, waiting for you to decide when our next meal is? You had the first bite. Before now, you didn’t take issue with us having our share of fun with the acolytes,” Taehyung frowned, hands in the pockets of his suit curling into fists. “Perhaps Seokjin has decided to return to how we fed when I first joined the coven,” Jeongguk offered softly, Seokjin nodding in the slightest. A dismayed harrumph came from Jimin, who was rolling his eyes and pulling a mother-of-pearl comb through his raven hair. 

 Jeongguk began to remember his early days as an immortal, head tilted, and tried to flick through Seokjin’s head in curiosity. He was met with the usual iron wall that surrounded it. Seokjin raised a manicured brow, Jeongguk’s gaze returning to the window. 

“So… That’s all well and good. But why are there layers to this? Yoongi can arrange her into Kama Sutra positions but we aren’t to touch her point blank?” Hoseok wasn’t exactly broken up over the fact that he wasn’t to touch the acolyte, just annoyed with the special exceptions. 

“You are being dull on purpose,” Seokjin sang blandly, leaning back in his leather chair. “I meant none of you are to engage in anything sexual with her. Fledglings– and immortals with no self control, such as yourself, Hoseok– do not do well entangling themselves with acolytes such as… Y/N.”

“Such as ‘Y/N’? Elaborate?” Taehyung politely requested, leaning against the door of the office. His office, really, the one he built for his summer holidays a century ago, he noted with mild bitterness, smoothing out his tweed suit with precise pats. At wit’s end, Seokjin put his head in his hands, so exasperated he cursed in his ancient native tongue. 

“Her innocence and purity draws you in like a moth to a flame, I realize that, but I’m tired of applying for new acolytes. Two things are of greater importance that deserve my attention. First, I refuse to let you all revert yourselves into baser creatures thus tarnishing our reputation, which directly affects the second pressing matter. This week, the gala we are hosting with Berwind. Everything has to go smoothly.”

“... So, we can touch her. Just not–”

“Spare me, Hoseok,” Seokjin’s voice was hoarse, strained, and he had dealt with more tumor-inducing conversations in the past 24 hours than he had in decades. “Push her around if you want, I don’t give a shit. Do not try to seduce her.”

“But she thinks we’re all so handsome,” Jeongguk murmured, half amused, half kicking the hornet’s nest. “That’s like asking us to walk around with satchels over our heads.”

“All humans think we’re handsome,” Jimin countered, bored. He’d find it an insult worthy of death if the girl didn’t revere his beauty. 

“Stop whining and do as I say. You all have work to do before the gala. Taehyung, have Edmund fetch Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin snapped, the scent of mortals filling the room and making him cover his nose and mouth with a delicate palm to block it. 

“Alright, ‘boss’. Let’s see how long these new rules last,” Hoseok let his fangs drip with venom. He despised being ordered around, but the benefits of remaining in the coven and under Seokjin’s protection outweighed the cons. Seokjin usually came around, especially once the human would begin to get on Seokjin’s bad side. “I’m taking a bath until dinner.”

“That means he’ll be piss drunk again,” Jeongguk pointed out, once Hoseok had ditched the room, and Yoongi slowly rose from his seat. 

Yoongi had been fiddling with a filbert paint brush during the entire conversation, mind solely focused on the painting he had spent the whole night working on. As he began to excuse himself from the room, Jimin caught a hold of the tail of Yoongi’s untucked button down. Often, he’d let Jimin watch him paint; Jimin wrote screenplays while Yoongi would stretch canvases in peaceful silence. Yoongi, paying no mind to his younger covenmate, used the filbert brush to pin up his shoulder-length paint-caked locks with a fledgling anchored to the back of his shirt.

The artist was rather grateful Seokjin hadn’t torn into him as much as he could have– Yoongi chalked it up to good behavior and keeping to himself for the better half of the last century. Sure, he was agitated that Seokjin warned him to keep the Paralysis to a minimum, which was a nuisance, but perhaps it would be an artistic challenge for him. With a melodic hum, Yoongi licked the last of the blood off of his lips, eyes glowing when he and Jimin both left the office quietly. 

Though, Jimin was quiet for other reasons. Like Hoseok, Jimin was a spiteful vampire. The young acolyte already proved to be the brightest spark of entertainment he had seen from humanity since Old Hollywood, the excessive comparison floating around in Jimin’s lofty mind making Jeongguk dread the upcoming few days. With that, Taehyung and Jeongguk considered themselves dismissed, Seokjin only getting a moment to recover from the theatrics before launching into somewhat of a show himself. 

“Namjoon-ah, come in, please,” Seokjin, hand still dragging over his face, hadn’t the slightest explanation for Namjoon’s lapse in judgement the previous night. The sting of betrayal from somebody who quite literally died for loyalty, sacrificing his very soul, was so strong it had even Seokjin’s chest tightening. 

The doors swung open, Namjoon’s powerful strides bringing him into the office in less than three steps. Unfortunately, the human girl that was ushered into the room behind her had Namjoon freezing, carmine eyes narrowing. 

Y/N, who had been scrubbed utterly raw by her maids that morning as per Seokjin’s request, was currently entirely under Seokjin’s influence. From the moment her eyes opened at dawn, Seokjin could sense her panic from the bedroom above her– and to prevent any further nonsense, he mentally Compelled her to be nothing but his temporary puppet. Namjoon, as if he sensed he’d be in some hot water that morning, had his sword strapped to his broad back, his large gloved hands settling over the leather belt strapped around his hips. 

“Hyung. I felt you were too lenient on her,” Namjoon began, the picture of confidence. It elicited a low chuckle from Seokjin, torn between being too fond of Namjoon and ready to exact his punishment without mercy. 

“Okay, little acolyte. You can sit now,” Seokjin released Y/N from his spell only after she absently perched on a seat on the opposite side of the mahogany desk. Sucking in a deep breath, he waited for the girl to start babbling stupidly. 

“OH! You,” Y/N’s fingernails cut into the upholstered chair she sagged into, one hand shooting up to the back of her neck urgently, her outrage focused on her former mental captor. If Jeongguk’s power crushed her skull, and Jimin’s bruised her marrow; Seokjin melted her very spinal cord. 

“You too, Namjoon-ah, sit.”

Namjoon’s jaw worked, Seokjin staring at him through his dark curtain of eyelashes and waiting for him to ultimately obey. He always did. 

“I did what I thought had to be done. She’s completely unharmed,” Namjoon impulsively came up with a half-baked excuse, Seokjin pausing with a cocked head in his palms to remember that not so long ago, Namjoon was one of the fledglings too. 

“What!? Not true! Y-you! He! He locked me into the room!” Y/N exploded, pointing angrily at Namjoon like an unruly child. 

“I know.”

“You’re angry I locked her in? We do that to all of the acolytes,” Namjoon scoffed, suddenly wishing he had just shown the human to her early grave when she cursed at him under her breath. 

“I’m angry that you went over my head. This is unlike you, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin projected the scene of Namjoon taking the acolyte’s soaked fingers into his mouth into his mind, from Namjoon’s very own perspective. Namjoon swore, thinking Jeongguk deserved his neck wrung for daring to use his maddening mind-reading on him. 

“Excuse me. Did you just say you lock in all of the acolytes?” Y/N spluttered, body sagging into the chair even further when she realized Seokjin didn’t care she was imprisoned overnight. She was ignored by both vampires coldly.

“You’re going to punish me.”

“No.”

“No?” Namjoon leaned back in his seat, settling an ankle over the opposite knee, again drilling holes into the side of the human woman’s face with a glare. None of the arousal that clung to her the night before was evident, just a cocktail of edginess and despair. “Then what, Seokjin? I’ve proved my loyalty. Perhaps I had too much to drink.”

“You’ve proved your loyalty,” Seokjin repeated in agreement, rising from his seat with his hands clasped behind his back. “Which is why I’m giving you a new task. Around the clock.”

“Okay,” Namjoon drew out the syllables of his response, Y/N wiggling in her seat like she wanted to bolt. Why was she even there? When Namjoon thought he knew Seokjin’s every move, he was proven otherwise time and time again. It must have been instinctual for an eternal crown prince to keep his subjects on their toes.

“The gala we’re hosting for Edmund Berwind is just the first of many this winter,” Seokjin began to slowly pace around the intimidatingly masculine office, Y/N comparing him to a lethal black snake circling its next meal. “Last night aside. Besides myself, Namjoon-ah, you hold the most power in the coven. This winter I have to play politics and I will not have time to make sure this acolyte stays alive in order to sustain us.”

Y/N shuddered, not needing to be a vampire to feel the electric tension steadily climbing to a fever pitch. Namjoon, pearly dust coating his tongue from grinding his teeth so intensely, fiddled with the hilt of his sword, eyes liquid red. 

“What do you need from me, hyung?” Namjoon stared at Seokjin’s back, turned to him and the acolyte by a large bay window. Namjoon wondered if Seokjin was taking any pleasure in drawing things out. 

“Namjoon-ah. Since you seem to take a particular interest in the little girl, I imagine that to a vampire with weaker restraint, she’s a duck sitting in a pot of potatoes and leeks,” Seokjin began, head turning slightly so Y/N could gape at his flawless side profile– his lips, nose, and long lashes were highlighted by early morning light. 

“Particular interest–?”

“You’re to be her bodyguard.”

Again, there was a ghostly silence, one that Seokjin relished in. The girl was still somewhat loopy from him controlling her all morning, but Namjoon’s outright shock had Seokjin humming. 

“Bodyguard? Seokjin hyung, you know I respect you. Jeongguk was a former bodyguard. He is more suited for the job. I do not want to be near this woman,” Namjoon protested sharply, unaware that that was the precise reason Seokjin selected playing bodyguard as punishment for Namjoon. Y/N, in similar fashion, recoiled and clutched her roiling gut. 

“Jeongguk is the youngest fledgling,” Seokjin quickly replied, as if Namjoon was daft to even suggest such a thing. “Jeongguk also has the mind of a stunted teenager. He has tenderness that lingers. He cannot be tasked with something like this, not yet. You are to watch the acolyte and make sure she is not only protected from our guests, but the rest of the coven as well.”

“This is a test.”

“This is a warning, Namjoon!” Seokjin hissed, spinning around. “Remember yourself. Wake up, and do your job. Give me her bedroom key.”

Seokjin, in a blur, was standing above Namjoon, a palm dangling in front of the younger’s face. Namjoon’s fangs flashed, digging around in the pocket of his slacks, and offered up a gilded skeleton key with grave reluctance– almost like it was his death sentence. Smart enough to realize that she had absolutely no irons in the fire to protest, Y/N numbly watched Seokjin fashion a necklace for Namjoon out of a fine spool of wire produced from the desk, one with the key to her bedroom dangling as its grand pendant. Namjoon, still as ever, held his breath when Seokjin dropped the necklace over his head. 

“Take her to the Sanctuary to pick out acolytes for Saturday evening. Bring Jeongguk to weed out the weak of mind,” Seokjin upped the ante by sending Namjoon on an errand with the acolyte, the addition of Jeongguk monitoring his thoughts no doubt sending Namjoon into murderous rage. “Keep your hands to yourself and your mouth shut, acolyte. Go.”

Dismissing the two, Namjoon’s power crackling like electricity over his knuckles, Seokjin leaned a hip on the desk, plucking up the landline receiver. Y/N’s mouth was agape at the mention of the Sanctuary– the run-down Gothic cathedral a place she never knew she could miss, but did, desperately. 

While processing the possibility that she might get to see her friends once more, even if it was just to give them a proper goodbye, Y/N was yanked upwards by the back of her sweater. Namjoon had a fistful of her wool collar in his glove-clad fist, the vampire so enraged by his newly appointed ‘job’ that he didn’t even have words of malice in his vocabulary to spit back at Seokjin that could encapsulate it. 

“I can walk,” Y/N righted herself with a scoff, shockingly cognizant despite everything that had already happened the first hour she was awake. Namjoon let go of her sweater, his striking face twisted up in disgust, tearing from the office like his heels were on fire. 

Y/N adjusted the fit of her sweater, swallowing down her trepidation. Many things became clear to her, as she eyed Seokjin speaking to someone on the phone in a lilting foreign language. First and foremost, she had just become the most well-protected acolyte in the nation with Namjoon as her bodyguard. Second, Seokjin had not only inadvertently confirmed how necessary her well-being and survival was to not only the entire coven, but to himself as well. Y/N accepted that fear would always be there, and she’d endure moments of humiliation like she had the night prior. She’d experience pain and psychological torment. But she’d survive. 

“아니, 창덕궁은 아니고–” Seokjin’s eyes flashed, angry that the acolyte was gawking at him like a dolt and not following her newly appointed bodyguard. He lowered the phone from his lips slightly, snarling a threat. “Get going, little girl, before I bite you again.”

Scowling, Y/N cupped a palm over the punctures he left in her neck, barely covered by the cut of her sweater’s collar. The vampire was still barking into the phone when one of the staff members began to shut the office doors behind Y/N, his voice carrying into the hall.

“내 생각에는 경복궁이 우리의 필요에 더 잘 맞을 것 같아요–”

The grand wooden doors cut off Seokjin’s dulcet tones effectively with a hollow clang, and paired with it, three maids surrounded her in a flurry of winter hats and coats to bundle her up. 

“Oh, Nadia–” Y/N gasped, a friendly face appearing before her at long last. Her maid fastened a pair of fur earmuffs over Y/N’s head securely. “Please tell me you’ll be coming along on this errand!”

“Afraid not, Miss. Typically, I would join you, but with the gala preparations this week, I must send you with a list to take to the market. The masters will accompany you on the way to the Sanctuary,” Nadia gestured to the large ballroom overlooking the sea, dozens of staff members on their hands and knees scrubbing the marble floors. “You’ll have a merry time at the market this time of year, Miss. I’m sure the masters will treat you to a hot drink.”

Y/N thought diamonds raining from the sky seemed more likely than Namjoon or Jeongguk willingly purchasing her a treat, the latter of the two vampires unfortunately coming into her view when Nadia led her to the mansion’s front door. Y/N hadn’t seen the youngest immortal since Yoongi escorted him from the billiard’s room the night prior. Y/N’s heart was doing something funny in her chest at the sight of him, like it was taking dips and tumbles in the cavity, Jeongguk’s cream-colored sweater giving the vampire an almost innocent appearance. 

“Nadia, don’t you have a scarf for the acolyte?” Jeongguk ignored the desperate desire to use Telepathy on Y/N, who was reluctantly waddling over to him with a pout on her small mouth. “It’s important for human women to keep their thyroid warm in the winter.”

Y/N coughed back an incredulous laugh, not believing for a single second that Jeongguk truly gave a rat’s ass about her thyroid. If anything, the comment gave her the creeps, shattering the angelic image he was falsely projecting. 

“Yes Master Jeongguk, I have this cashmere–”

“Give it to me, Nadia,” Jeongguk cut the maid off, crooking a finger at Y/N and beckoning her forward. He snatched an oversized scarf from Nadia with graceful finesse, wrapping the material around his palms.

Y/N was at the point, so early in the morning and already tired of games, that she simply slouched her way to the captor summoning her without putting up a fight. Besides, Namjoon was probably around the corner, and Y/N knew she was pretty much invincible with him as her ‘bodyguard’. She could endure some teasing from Jeongguk, she told herself, as she anxiously focused on the faint scar on one of his cheeks. 

“Here you go,” Jeongguk was murmuring pleasantly, beginning to wind the scarf around Y/N’s neck. While stiff, she maintained her composure, not wanting Jeongguk to get the best of her when he started tucking the ends of the scarf into her coat’s collar. “All bundled up, there you go.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, sincere words coming from Jeongguk tainted by a condescending cadence. Without thinking, she brushed his knuckles away from her jawline, Jeongguk snickering and limply dropping his hand to his side. 

“Developing an attitude problem now that you’ve become Seokjin’s princess?” Jeongguk stooped, his large doe eyes sparkling with youthful mischief. It made Y/N’s heart act up again. “Even Namjoon’s to be waiting on your hand and foot. Pretty nice setup, huh?”

“Isn’t it too early for this?” Y/N squinted, backing up several paces so Jeongguk’s sweet breath wasn’t wafting over her face anymore. “Sure, I have an attitude. Wouldn’t you?”

“You know, you’d make a fairly interesting immortal,” Jeongguk crossed his arms over his chest, broad back resting against a solid pillar by the front door. Y/N couldn’t hear it, but Namjoon was tearing up a training room in the basement just below their feet, picturing the martial arts foam dummy down there was the acolyte he was eviscerating with his sword. 

“That… sounds like a threat. Or a death sentence,” Y/N squeaked, never considering the possibility that she herself could be turned. Jeongguk’s face split into a grin, picturing the girl frozen in time forever, pure and skittish, her eyes like rubies. 

“It’s two sides of the same coin, Y/N. It’s a threat, and it would be a death sentence,” Jeongguk, all but purring, watched the wheels turn in her head. She was confused once more, her weight shifting from foot to foot. While the fledgling enjoyed her nervous response to his presence, he realized, with a frown, that the acolyte seemed to find him the most approachable amongst the coven members. He’d have to change that, swiftly. “Don’t you know how vampires are made?”

“I don’t wish to know,” Y/N quickly shook her head, striding to the grand front door in order to get a move on with the dreaded errands. Besides, Jeongguk looked far too eager to describe something unpleasant.

“Well, to start. We’d have to drain you of almost all of your blood,” Jeongguk disregarded her, not that Y/N was surprised, her fingernails scraping against the front door when thunderous footsteps pounded up a stairwell just beyond Jeongguk’s shoulder. “You’d be dying. Before you’d take your last breath, however…”

“We’re going,” Namjoon stormed by Y/N and the taunting fledgling, Y/N gulping audibly when she saw the sweat rolling down his temples and the unsheathed sword in his grasp. 

Finding it the perfect opportunity to leave Jeongguk and his gory stories in the dust, Y/N made haste after Namjoon, the length of her coat’s skirt collecting dust and moisture from the previous night’s storm. 

“Get in the back,” Namjoon jutted his chin towards the cushy black sedan she remembered seeing the day she met the vampires, the car already running and filling the air with silky looking exhaust.

Clamming herself up, Y/N obediently slid into the back seat of the sedan when Namjoon yanked the door open for her, a mew of awe leaving her when she landed on the soft leather booth. Taking in the cabin, Y/N traced over the vents closest to her, the glossy wood buffed to a bright shine. 

“Oof–” Y/N grunted, a heavy object tossed over her lap. With a shriek, she shoved Namjoon’s sword off of her and onto the floor, relieved that it was sheathed but horrified that she was anywhere near it. Namjoon slammed the door shut, cutting the chill that was coming from outside, the sheer force of the action jolting the car around.

“Put that on the seat next to you. If you had any idea how much that was worth, you’d be kneeling on a chapel floor until you bled,” Namjoon was suddenly in the seat directly in front of her, not even turning to make eye contact when he addressed her. 

With trembling hands, she lifted the sword, the scabbard made of a black lacquered wood, urgently placing it as far away as she could. There was a blood red tassel hanging off it, the strings somewhat frayed with time, and engraved inscriptions along the sides of the scabbard that Y/N could not read. 

“Hoseok fucked with my seat again,” Jeongguk dropped into the driver’s seat, his fast movements a blur as he adjusted his mirrors. “You never let me finish, either, Y/N.”

Y/N wished she could go back in time and smack herself for insisting on the vampires calling her by her actual name. Something about a deadly creature knowing and using that particular intimacy felt wrong, Y/N nervously biting her lip as Jeongguk turned to pull out of the carport. Flashing his fangs at her, Jeongguk paid no attention to Namjoon burying himself in some boring book about martial arts to distract himself, the girl shrinking into her scarf for feeble protection.

“When you’re drained, taking your last breath… one of us could either kill you or wait for you to die,” Jeongguk switched the radio on, quiet hip-hop pulsing through the expensive speakers in the cabin. “Then you have to be fed.”

“What are you even talking about? How can you feed me if I’ve been murdered?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, wondering if Jeongguk thought she was slow. 

“One of us would feed you immortal blood, and it would revive you as an immortal yourself. A fledgling,” Jeongguk went on as if she hadn’t poked holes in his tale, the iron gates at the front of the property swinging open to a wintery, meticulously paved street. 

“Why on earth would we ever turn that pest?” Namjoon murmured blandly, the sound of his leather gloves rustling against the pages of a book again sparking Y/N’s interest. It appeared that Namjoon never actually took those gloves off, for some elusive reason. “Can’t we carry out this task in silence?”

Jeongguk chuckled, but knew not to push his luck. Namjoon was one toe out of line from taking his frustrations out on bystanders at the market, which would be a pain to clean up. He settled into his seat and rolled down the windows, his skin sensitive to the elements with the acolyte’s blood nourishing it. As cool rain ran over his forearm, Jeongguk smirked to himself– it was only a matter of time until Jimin would be requesting pints of the acolyte’s blood to dump in his nightly bath. He was ripped from his thoughts of Jimin bathing in a marble pool of crimson when the girl actually dared to speak, almost mocking Namjoon’s final comment.

“Why on earth would I ever want to be turned? I’m already chained to you for the rest of my human life. To be trapped with you in immortality would be an eternal hell that I would have no escape from. Not even death would be kind to me.”

“Hosting parties here in the winter is something I never envisioned during construction,” Taehyung wound the silver chain to his pocket watch around his wrist, a line of maids brushing by with armfuls of holiday decorations. “It was intentionally designed for summer parties, keeping outsiders out.”

“You’ve mentioned that before, Master Taehyung. Especially during the winter holidays. You must detest them,” Edmund managed to keep up with his immortal employer by breaking into a near jog, scratching down a list of to-do’s as he went. The old butler had a weight lifted off his shoulder that morning, the acolyte off-property and out of the lion’s den, at least for a while. 

“The loggias open to the lawn and gardens. They’re useless in the winter. We should be hosting in the New York townhouses,” Taehyung continued to complain, using the butler as a sounding board. 

“Shall I order the evergreens today?”

Taehyung sighed, his delicate nose wrinkling up as he imagined the sappy, pungent smell of Christmas trees permeating through his estate. From where he was in the great hall, he could simply tilt his head just so, and with vampiric vision he could make out every brushstroke painted onto the ceiling fifty feet into the sky. Similarly, his hearing picked up every whisper from the servants in the hall, their heartbeats, and the continuous ticking of his pocket watch. Passing a hand over his gelled curls, Taehyung resumed his lap around the first floor. 

“I suppose. I cannot believe Seokjin put me on decorating duty. He can be such a… prince,” Taehyung frowned deeply, mulling over how he had managed to get himself in that spot. 

Sure, Taehyung was still a ‘fledgling’, but he was older than Jeongguk, who was actually permitted to take the acolyte on a trip to town with Namjoon. Classic Seokjin, showing favoritism for both the youngest vampire and the second-in-command. It made Taehyung want to spit venom onto the floor, but he always considered himself a gentleman, so he swallowed it down with a wince. 

“Like the holidays, Master, you seem to detest town, too,” Edmund, with mild amusement, made sure to prioritize Taehyung’s preferences for the decor– if he didn’t follow the businessman's directions to the letter, there would be cruel and unusual punishments. “Perhaps he was sparing you from the throngs of people asking for your audience.”

“Do not kiss my ass, Edmund,” Taehyung peered down through his thick lashes, hands stuffed in his pockets. There was no bite to his words, Taehyung actually appreciating Edmund’s discreet and meticulous work over the years, but he still had to maintain his immortal authority. “Seokjin picks punishments that create a slow torture, ones that unravel a person. I didn’t do too much to offend this time, but I still have to handle ‘festivities’ when I’d rather focus on the business.”

“I heard…” Edmund’s cerulean eyes darted around the hall before he and the fledgling reached the secluded grotto beneath the marble staircase. “Namjoon has been appointed as a sort of bodyguard to the acolyte.”

“Wherever did you hear that, old friend?” Taehyung grinned maliciously, stooping to get a good look at the elderly human. After years of being worn down without losing his mind, Taehyung didn’t mind that Edmund possessed an agenda, as long as it wasn’t conflicting with his own. “Eavesdropping again?”

“Simply trying to get up to speed on how things will be working from now on,” Edmund, even with his years of service, always preferred to deal with the vampires when they had recently fed, their appearances closer to humans than the ghoulish, starving versions of themselves. Presently, Taehyung appeared like a healthy young man that stepped forward in time from the Gilded Age. “You don’t mind filling me in, do you?”

“Namjoon cannot tolerate humans, especially ones that lack the intelligence of the world. Being a bodyguard to one is the ultimate punishment for him, so he must have royally fucked up somehow. Jeongguk is the only one who knows how Namjoon fucked up other than Seokjin, which is why he’s driving Namjoon around. Insult to injury. That, and Seokjin is testing Jeongguk’s self-control, which will wear thin quickly.”

 Taehyung knelt on one knee, dipping his hand into the chest pocket of his vest. Using a Prussian blue handkerchief, the silk slippery when he used it to polish a spot of marble making up the basin of the grotto beneath the main staircase.

“Forcing Yoongi to paint without Paralysis is torture for him. Being barred from playing his little games is no doubt leading up to a spell of hysteria from Jimin,” Taehyung folded the handkerchief with care, then tested the febrile water bubbling in the grotto with a satisfied hum. “As for Hoseok… Well, he escalated things with his vulgarities last night. Seokjin’s response was to send him to local churches to keep up on our donations.”

“Which leaves dealing with the cabaret to you,” Edmund, though considered to be ‘old’ for a human, was quite sharp. Taehyung hated many things: tardiness, interacting with extroverts, dealing with party planning, but most of all, Taehyung despised lowly human perversions. 

“Come sundown I’ll be at a cattle auction hosted in a brothel,” Taehyung grunted, straightening up and trying to hide his surprise that his limbs moved so fluidly. “No use in fighting it. Seokjin is manipulative, but it is how we have stayed powerful for so long.”

“Manipulative? That is one of the kindest ways you have described me in decades, Taehyung,” Seokjin, melting into the crooks and nannies of the vast estate, made his presence known, the head chef cowering behind the eldest vampire. “You’ve hardly finished coordinating decorations. You wouldn’t have to traipse around the red-light district after sundown if you lit a fire under your ass.”

“Are you implying that I’m lazy?” Taehyung scoffed incredulously, Edmund excusing himself to ‘order the evergreens’. “The greatest businessman in history. Lazy?”

“The greatest businessman in American history. You still brag about your achievements like a petulant child of nepotism,” Seokjin glanced at the clipboard the head chef was holding with trembling hands, pointing at something and clicking his tongue. Taehyung felt his skin rippling, like Glamor was trying to turn him into a demon with leathery skin. “Leave the rest to Edmund and just go to the cabaret now.”

“Hoseok usually handles the cabaret. What am I even supposed to be negotiating in that cesspool?” 

“You’re supposed to be picking out entertainment for the lecherous variety of guests that will be here this week. Must I spell it out for you?” Seokjin was out of sight as soon as he was in it, ordering the chef around again. “Has anyone unpacked the crates of liquor yet–”

Taehyung’s face split into a disbelieving grin, a rough chuckle tearing through his chest. There were days Taehyung longed for Seokjin’s power and influence, and moments where reality struck him. With his skin still threatening to take on the appearance of something otherworldly– beyond his control– could Taehyung even wield the power it took to head a vampiric coven properly? 

Glancing around the grand summer home he painstakingly designed for himself a lifetime ago, Taehyung sighed as he began to transform himself into a man who no one would recognize in the streets. Not only a widely known vampire in town, but the businessman who put Newport, Rhode Island on the map many years ago, Taehyung morphed into the perfect replica of the young man handing him his car keys– who stumbled sideways in shock when he saw a clone of himself staring back. 

Gentle, fuzzy orchestral music played loudly enough to have bottles of turpentine rattling against each other, Yoongi groaning from behind the wet canvas he was agonizing over. A pile of discarded palettes sat at his feet, unsatisfactory swatches of colors smeared all over the plastic heightening his aggravation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the shade of the acolyte’s hair just right. 

“On the average day, I admire your process. Judging by appearances, you’ve deviated from that process. Where am I to sit, your lap?” Jimin returned from his ‘break’ from writing in Yoongi’s bedroom to take a leisurely two-hour long bath, dressed in his typical satin attire. 

Yoongi, out of pure frustration, launched a palette knife across the room and out of the half-cracked bay window. It was true: at least fifteen canvases in various sizes were tossed about the room, paint still tacky and smudged, the fabric tarp protecting the Oriental carpets caked was in pigments, and not even Yoongi’s bed– where Jimin typically lounged to pen down his screenplays– had a free spot where a box of supplies didn’t occupy. Yoongi himself looked like a trainwreck, long glossy hair gathered into a ragged knot at the back of his head, reeking of paint thinner, and clothes basically destroyed by the mediums he was using. 

Jimin, slightly mournful that his silk pajamas were going to be ruined, dropped himself onto one of Yoongi’s thighs, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi’s agitated expression. Usually, he would have pushed Jimin off by then, too wrapped up in what he was painting to endure Jimin’s flirting. Blinking, Jimin turned his head, leaning forward on Yoongi’s thigh to get a look at the painting causing the older vampire so much grief. 

His work was as fine as ever. In fact, Jimin had half a mind to smack Yoongi across the face. Of course, the painting was of the acolyte, but it portrayed her taking a sip from a champagne flute during the previous night’s dinner. The colors were vibrant and lifelike, and the acolyte was so well depicted that Jimin could imagine the girl stepping out of the canvas. Yoongi even managed to capture how beautiful the ruby necklace Jimin picked out for the acolyte was, which made Jimin spring up from his perch and place his hands on his hips. 

“You’re being ridiculous. How could you possibly be unhappy with that portrait?” Jimin accused, the cloud over Yoongi’s head darkening. “The hair isn’t right,” Yoongi murmured, plucking up another tube of paint to lighten the tones on the top of the acolyte’s head, where the chandelier picked up on her natural highlights. “I can’t get it right without her here.”

“Well, she’s playing with others right now. It’s not your turn,” Jimin snarked, finding the notebook he was using for his latest screenplay under an old smock Yoongi only used to wipe paint from his hands. “Besides, is she Botticelli’s Venus? How complicated can her hair color possibly be?”

“You were too preoccupied with how her tits spilled out of the top of her dress to notice her hair,” Yoongi went for a petty low blow, which was unlike him. Jimin paused, clutching his notebook to his chest and studying his elder for a moment. 

Jimin always thought Yoongi was beautiful, but when Yoongi found a new muse, he glowed and took on something angelic. However, that particular time his glow was dimmed, thanks to Seokjin’s restrictions on Yoongi’s access to his newfound muse, and stress brought on by perfectionism was extinguishing the light almost completely. 

“You haven’t been this neurotic about details since the portraits you worked on for Marilyn Monroe, and that acolyte is nowhere near that level of femme fatale,” Jimin cocked his head, perturbed that Yoongi wasn’t giving him the time of day. He couldn’t have that. “Yoongi, put the blasted paint down.”

With practiced ease, Jimin used a stronger dose of Hypnosis on Yoongi than he did the acolyte. Yoongi, promptly, felt his filbert brush clatter to the ground, a gritty purr coming from the artist. He didn’t have the patience to entertain Jimin that day, but it seemed Jimin had other ideas, pushing the palette out of Yoongi’s grasp and using a crooked finger to tilt his chip up. 

“Release me, Jimin,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, his ancient bones aching from Hypnosis wrapping around them. “You do not need to Hypnotize me to gain my attention.”

“Clearly that’s not the case,” Jimin snapped, letting go of his elder covenmate and withdrawing his power slowly. “You’re completely consumed. She’s your latest muse.”

Jimin watched, with an almost human interest, blood pool in Yoongi’s cheeks. When a vampire has fed, within moments the mortal blood revives the stagnant vampiric blood– black in color– and the immortal’s body is restored to its height of health. Essentially, the mortal and vampiric blood become one; the blush across Yoongi’s cheeks was something Jimin had not seen in at least fifteen years. It was worse than he thought. 

“I would not go that far… muse…” Yoongi looked away, out the window and towards the sea. “No. Just a new subject to paint.”

“Sure,” Jimin scoffed, bored suddenly. With a huff, he meanly pushed a stack of sketchbooks off of Yoongi’s bed with a bare foot, collapsing on his side and cracking open his leather bound manuscripts-in-progress. “I have no issues admitting the acolyte has inspired my work. You know I’ve suffered from a block lately. Your stubbornness vexes me.”

“If it ‘vexes’ you so much, go entertain yourself with the girl’s maids. Pick out her wardrobe for the week and leave me in peace,” Yoongi retrieved his paint brush from the floor, using featherlight pressure to diffuse the harsh lines making up a lock of hair on the acolyte’s head. “Turn down the music while you’re at it.”

“Cold,” Jimin grinned, one of his fangs piercing through the cap of his pen once he brought it to his mouth. “Turn the music down yourself. I’m comfortable now.”

It was diverting to bicker with Yoongi, who usually behaved like a mute hermit living in the mountains– the artist could stoop to a level of sarcasm that Jimin perfected before he even became immortal. Yoongi grunted noncommittally, only breaking away from his canvas for a moment in order to slam the radio off, built-up strength in his limbs due to Paralysis begging to be used. 

Yoongi couldn’t remember what it was like to work without Paralysis. In the beginning, when Yoongi was a young, human man, he took any menial job he could to keep him off the streets of Tuscany. Not once, prior to meeting his mentor, did Yoongi allow himself the luxury of dream of being a fine artist. He was too busy exterminating vermin that often holed up in his ramshackle one-room thatched-roof mud hut while he was selling fruits in an open air market to have dreams. Yoongi shook out his arms and legs, the sounds of Jimin scrawling his loopy cursive over parchment grating on his delicate ears.

“Are you writing a play or a movie script?” Yoongi mumbled, jealous that Jimin’s creativity seemed to be flowing like a babbling brook. The jealousy spiked when Jimin flipped through his notebook, revealing that he had written what seemed to be two different productions already– Paralysis started to stiffen Yoongi’s own body spitefully.

“Actually, I wrote a ballet and a short horror film. Working on something more classical now, a novel… think Mary Shelley…”

“You wrote a ballet,” Yoongi confirmed flatly, Jimin giggling and setting his pen down to tease an obviously envious Yoongi. “When was the last time you even danced ballet, let alone create a show?”

“Just because you’ve stopped dropping by during my practice times, doesn’t mean I’ve quit, Yoongi,” Jimin, in a singsong voice, rolled over on his stomach to kick his legs in the air, already envisioning complicated choreography and elaborate, decadent costumes gracing worldwide stages. “Enough of this. Take a walk, you’re distracting me.”

Jimin, with glee, returned to his manuscript, loving that he could gloat. Sure, a part of him– a part the size of perhaps a grain of rice– that felt bad for Yoongi, but it was so overshadowed by centuries of immortal narcissism that Jimin didn’t even realize that part of him still existed.

“You’re the eldest fledgling, but you behave like the youngest. Disgraceful. Messy,” Yoongi changed the subject, kneeling to the floor by the bed. Face level with Jimin, Yoongi tilted his head. “Hedonistic.”

“I’m a vampire, Yoongi,” Jimin didn’t spare his elder a glance, and even though he was writing at a nearly impossible to see speed, no ink stained his sturdy fingertips. “Maybe you should lean into your nature like you used to, and you’ll paint something actually worth viewing.”

“You’re suggesting I ignore Seokjin’s orders.”

“Since when have you obeyed them? Seokjin gives you a rather long leash because you’re boring. He gave you an out. He doesn’t care if you Paralyze the acolyte, he just wants it contained to this bedroom. If anything, that should excite you,” Jimin put down his pen, fangs on display when his mischievous smile returned. With a manicured nail, he scraped umber pigment off of Yoongi’s cheek, directly below one of his eyes. 

Yoongi considered this, letting the fledgling remove paint from his face and hair, something dark and twisted steeping into his system. Jimin was absolutely right, and it pained Yoongi to admit that to himself. Since when had he been so idle?

“Jeongguk accused me of lacking risk…”

“Normally, I’d tell you not to listen to that cretin. But the point remains,” Jimin curled his lip up in disgust, picturing the brute youngest fledgling, who had none of the artistic proclivities he and Yoongi shared. 

Yoongi seemed to be processing things, his eyes almost wine-colored as he stared at Jimin. At one point, there was a time Yoongi couldn’t stop painting him; the round false innocence of his cheeks and lips, his graceful dancer’s figure. It then dawned on him, his entire expression brightening, which had Jimin halting his task of removing Yoongi’s turpentine-soaked oxford shirt. 

“Sit in next time. Model with her,” Yoongi grasped onto one of Jimin’s wrists, his sharp nails cutting into the fledgling’s creamy skin. A trickle of blood, a shade of pinot noir, slid down his wrist bone: the shade of Jimin and the acolyte entwined. 

“Oh?” Jimin’s grin only widened seductively. “There’s the risk that made your fortune.”

Reinvigorated, Yoongi let Jimin shrug off his grip, the playwright dragging his tongue over the crescent-shaped cuts marring his perfect skin. As Yoongi stood, his shirt dropped to the floor, his chest the only part of his body spared from paint splatters. 

“After the gala, when Seokjin is less concerned with appearances to the outside world, we’ll see how a session goes,” Yoongi turned, raking a hand through his filthy hair. Under his nose, Jimin was slyly using the callbox to fetch a staff member to run another hot bath. “Just the three of us.”

Yoongi frowned at the idea of Jimin inviting Hoseok– who enjoyed partaking in some of Jimin’s twisted, sometimes perverted, games. Sniffing indignantly, Jimin got the message loud and clear. 

“Well, Hoseok can–”

Jimin was swiftly shut down when Yoongi was hovering over him again, his wrist recaptured. Body loosening deliciously when Paralysis washed over him, Jimin watched Yoongi plant a large palm beside him on the bed, trapping the fledgling in place. 

“Just the three of us.”

Yoongi repeated himself firmly, squeezing Jimin’s wrist enough to have his breath catch, and without a smart retort, Yoongi smirked at the blood flowing from his cuts. Almost like he was consummating a grave, corrupted promise, Yoongi wrapped his lips around the wounds he created, sampling both the fledgling and the human girl as if it was the fountain of youth. Outside, thunder cracked down over the glacial sea, disguising blissful, selfish sighs. 

“Miss? You seem distracted this afternoon,” Juliana’s voice is what cut through the fog, Y/N absently gazing into the polished silver mirror. 

Her cheeks had filled out with the consistent rich foods she was being fed around the clock. There was no attention paid by her to the butterfly needle sticking out of her arm, drawings now a daily– sometimes twice daily– occurrence. Y/N suspected that the blood bags were delivered bedroom to bedroom like room service, and though she hated needles, her maids drawing her blood was much better than teeth in her neck.  

It had been a couple of days since her outing with the two vampires, and Y/N felt herself moving through her life like a mechanical part of something much larger. It was the afternoon of the great ‘gala’ that the coven was throwing, which meant Y/N was roused from her bed prior to sunrise for a hasty breakfast before being manicured to perfection. 

It was a miracle, but the vampires had mostly left her alone after she had returned from the Sanctuary with Namjoon and Jeongguk. With convenient bags of her blood for them to feed on, it really wasn’t necessary for the coven to interact with her. In fact, other than Namjoon’s constant presence lurking in her shadow, the only other vampire she had to speak with was Seokjin, who gave her a detailed list of how to behave at the gala. 

Y/N didn’t know why she even had to be present during the event. She would have much preferred holing up in her bedroom with perhaps a book all night. Wincing when Juliana pulled the needle from her arm, Y/N cleared her throat, eagerly spreading a soothing ointment over the injection site. 

“Miss?”

“Hm?” Y/N shivered, fingers twisting into the fur blanket draped over her lap. Y/N had become intimately familiar with the vanity she was sitting in front of; sometimes, she swore she saw spirits in the silver mirror. “Sorry?”

“I mentioned that you seem distracted. Perhaps anticipation for the gala? The decorations look glorious,” Juliana was merry, all of the staff was, but it hardly rubbed off on Y/N. She had never been to any kind of party, and not knowing what to expect had her stomach turning. 

“Oh… yes. Anticipation,” Y/N lied, drawing the corner of her mouth up into a half-smile. Dressed in only a silk nightgown, Y/N too consumed by her anxiety to bother covering up her nipples peeking through the fabric, she was spun around on her stool. Her bed was littered with gowns, all shades of cream or off-white. “What am I wearing?”

Another thing Y/N got used to, much like Namjoon keeping close tabs on her even if he wasn’t physically present, was Jimin picking out her clothes. Not just outfits for dinner, but her daily attire as well, down to the jewelry and shoes. Y/N no longer had much agency at all, and that was revealed to her when she was taken to the Sanctuary. 

Two Days Prior to the Gala

Y/N had a lump forming in her throat when Jeongguk pulled his car into the Sanctuary’s gravel drive, the stone cathedral exactly how she remembered it just a week ago. Her legs were still cold from walking around the market, where she was treated like a ball-and-chain by the two vampires in the front seat. She was correct, earlier: there were several stands serving hot chocolate to the wealthy citizens of Newport, but neither Namjoon or Jeongguk offered to purchase one for her, even if it was to stop the chattering of her teeth. 

Jeongguk was sent into various shops by Namjoon, who remained by Y/N’s side on the cobblestone sidewalks. At one point, while Jeongguk was inside a flower shop ordering centerpieces, Y/N strayed all but three feet away from Namjoon to take a look at a stall selling roasted chestnuts. It had been a mistake: Y/N was yanked backwards promptly, and the rest of the time spent at the market involved her being led around like a dog on a leash– Namjoon dragging her by the scarf around her neck. 

In a blur she could hardly understand, Y/N was toted from the backseat and began to chase after Namjoon before he could choke her with her own scarf. The Sanctuary was unchanged, and though it had been just shy of a week, Y/N took in the sights of the front drive like it was brand new to her. Instinctively, when she spotted Mrs. Sloane at the entrance, Y/N flinched sharply into a solid body beside her– Jeongguk– and at that moment, she didn’t know who she’d rather be left alone with. 

“I–I thought vampires could not come onto Sanctuary grounds,” Y/N breathed, thinking of Meredith and how horrified she’d be to know that two wolves were amongst the lambs. 

“Quiet, AB-. I see you continue to flap your gums despite the honor you were bestowed,” Mrs. Sloane greeted Y/N in the only way the old woman probably knew how: nastily. While Namjoon simply copied the stone gargoyles beside the entrance, still, Jeongguk snickered at Y/N’s scolding. “Good day, Masters. It has been some time since we have had the pleasure.”

Y/N wanted to bust a gut like a rabid hyena. Jeongguk appeared increasingly smug, puffing out his chest importantly, while Namjoon simply adjusted the fit of his leather gloves. 

“We’ve gathered a group of acolytes for you to choose from for your gala.”

Y/N’s friends and acquaintances. With a wobbly lower lip, she and the two vampires were led to a detached office building beside the Sanctuary, where only wardens were permitted to enter. 

“You believe that moronic propaganda? Did you think we’d burst into flames stepping foot on sacred ground?” Jeongguk leaned forward, his voice floating over Y/N’s shoulder, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Promptly ignoring him, Y/N edged closer to Mrs. Sloane of all people. Though Mrs. Sloane had treated her like livestock, she still had her humanity. 

The room the three of them were led to was quite large, perhaps the size of a gymnasium, and it was apparently treated like a storage room. There were boxes of incense and votive candles stacked everywhere, as well as phlebotomy equipment. Jeongguk, with amusement, rifled through a box of tourniquets. 

“Bring them in,” Mrs. Sloane barked towards an open door, the acid in Y/N’s stomach steadily climbing up her throat when she heard shuffling. 

A handful of acolytes, mostly from the AB+ group, were pushed into the room hastily in a rush of white linens. The sight of the bleached and starched clothing Y/N used to wear day in and day out had her feeling dizzy, and if things couldn’t get any worse, an acolyte no older than seven was part of the group as well. 

“The acolyte beside you is the only one in the area with AB- blood. We’ve brought in all of our AB+ and B- typed acolytes, for your choosing. The head of your coven requested how many–?”

“Fifteen.”

Just one word was the first thing Namjoon uttered since they arrived, and the sharpness of his tone had even Mrs. Sloane stiffening. Y/N, helpless, squirmed in place as the acolytes she had lived with for years stared at her like a Hollywood star. She must have been something to behold; dressed in a fine designer coat, matching cashmere mittens and scarf, and well groomed and fed. Y/N didn’t realize how starved for nutrients she truly was, as she noticed the lack of color in the other acolyte’s complexions, the thinness of their cheeks. 

“Remove the children from the room,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, his sword tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Feeding on children is a waste of time and energy.”

“Yes, Master,” Mrs. Sloane snapped her fingers, and Y/N sagged in relief when four acolytes under the age of eighteen were escorted back to safety. “Now… how will you select the group of fifteen?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, lips pursing, as he scanned the line of humans cowering in fear and awe. None of them had the same perfume-scented blood Y/N had, but Namjoon was expecting that. He really didn’t care either way which acolytes were picked, it wasn’t like Namjoon himself was going to be feeding from them. 

“I have an idea,” Jeongguk, who Y/N temporarily forgot was even present, dropped a pack of blood tubes onto the concrete floor and stepped forward. Trying not to budge, Y/N’s breath caught when Jeongguk hummed and looked her way. “Y/N, you go ahead and pick them out of us.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. Jeongguk wanted her to select people she grew up with for hordes of vampires to feed on at a party? Once aware that the coven she was placed with held little humanity, it was revealed that they had none. Jeongguk’s expression was positively delighted, taking in Y/N’s abject horror. 

“Go ahead, AB-,” Mrs. Sloane encouraged, her tone dripping with either jealousy or spite. Y/N thought if Mrs. Sloane wanted to serve vampires so badly, perhaps she should have taken her career to the cabaret. “Make haste. These acolytes have work to do, unlike yourself.”

“I cannot choose,” Y/N breathed, the twinkle in Jeongguk’s eyes brightening when she shrunk backwards. The acolytes in front of her began to murmur, as disobeying orders from a vampire was a serious offense. “Please, don’t make me…”

“Very well,” Jeongguk grabbed her by the shoulder, making her look directly into his soulless eyes. Y/N knew what was coming before Jeongguk even entered her mind, her skull starting to pound as he sorted through memories. “Warden. We’ll take the thirteen healthiest in this room.”

Y/N’s lower lip was wobbling again, noises all around of people being shuffled to and fro. 

“That’s two short–”

“Find me the acolyte Joseph. Y/N will be pleased to see him at the gala, no? And…” Jeongguk held up his hand to cut Mrs. Sloane off, eyes narrowing playfully when he found what he was looking for. Y/N frantically began to shake her head and chant ‘no’, but it was far too late. “The pretty blonde girl with the princess curls. Meredith.”

The memory had Y/N’s anxiety spiking acutely. Agonizing for days over the fact that her inability to fulfill Jeongguk’s request resulted in putting her friends in danger, she hardly got much sleep. Juliana meticulously hid her dark circles behind a skin tone matched concealer, and despite the inner wars she was fighting, Y/N’s appearance was sparkly and flawless. 

Skimming a hand over one of the gossamer dresses laying on the bed, nausea reared its ugly head. The cream color of the garment had her thinking about the uniforms of the acolytes. While Juliana was busy comparing the gowns to one another, Y/N began to pace slowly, trying to come up with some elaborate scheme to save her friends. When contemplating escape routes and disguises, Y/N got a whiff of sea salt and cedarwood. A pleasant smell, yes, but one Y/N had just begun to associate with a particular immortal. 

“Are you trying to pace your way through the floor, ma chérie?” Hoseok was in her doorframe once more, and apparently Seokjin had managed to convince him to wear a suit. It was the most dressed up Y/N had ever seen him, and she hated to admit to herself that he looked good in pressed black pants. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

Y/N looked down, her silk nightgown skimming her thighs and hugging parts of her body too closely. Swiftly, she wrapped her arms around herself to shield from Hoseok’s greedy roaming eyes. Hoseok loved to act falsely concerned about Y/N and her well being, but Y/N quickly found out that all Hoseok was was a drunken lech. In fact, once Y/N got over the size of the watch on his slim wrist, she saw the bottle of rum he was taking swigs from. 

“Do you not like the dresses Jimin picked out for you? How rude,” Hoseok tore his gaze from the swell of the girl’s hips to get a look at the gaudy gowns littered around the room. Turning up his nose, he scoffed at the selection. “It’s like he’s trying to turn you into Dracula’s bride.”

“I hate the color white,” Y/N blurted out, her maids all stopping what they were doing to gape at her. During the handful of incidents when Y/N dared to complain to the vampires, staff was not around. “The acolytes. We always had to wear white linens. I never wish to wear the color again.”

“Do you?” Hoseok purred, setting his rum onto one of her nightstands. Running his tongue over his fangs, Hoseok found the human girl’s terrible filter entertaining. “Then don’t wear white. Simple as that.”

“What?” Y/N stopped pacing, gawking at Hoseok like he grew a second head. He couldn’t be serious, Y/N’s brief astonishment washing away into suspicion at a hat’s drop. 

“Don’t wear white, chérie. There’s a storage room in the basement stuffed with gowns flown in from every fashion capital in the world, all tailored to your size. What color do you want to wear?” Hoseok liked to play with his food, and the sickly-sweet tablespoon of hope directed towards him from the human girl was enough to keep up the ‘nice guy’ act. 

“Are you toying with me?” Y/N saw through the act, drinking in his sharp jawline and alcohol reddened cheeks. “Won’t… Master Jimin be upset?”

“Jimin will survive. He’ll pout, but he can’t help his melodramatic tendencies. So pick a color, Y/N,” Hoseok grew impatient, the friendly act starting to become forced.

Y/N, still processing the unnatural consideration from Hoseok, studied the vampire. He was just as handsome as all the others, in an almost elvish way, his features angular. Truly, he was a vision– even down to his sun-weathered hands. Her mind then went to colors, but all the vibrant hues dancing through her mind made her frown. 

“Black.”

“Fitting,” Hoseok shook his head, snapping his fingers. “Juliana, fetch the girl her black dresses. The rest of you, get rid of anything remotely off-white in her closet. Happy, chérie?”

“Why do you talk like that?” Y/N spoke through the flurry of her maids tripping over their feet to fulfill Hoseok’s request, the vampire’s drawl odd to Y/N’s ears. 

“Are you referring to my accent?” Hoseok raised a brow, plucking up his bottle of rum again. “I’ve spent centuries in New Orleans, pet. I believe humans call it a Southern drawl.”

Y/N nodded without understanding. The furthest south Y/N ever went was Little Compton, which was still in the state of Rhode Island. Taking a swig of his rum, Hoseok smirked as the beginnings of trust in him began to form in the acolyte’s head. Before she could go completely schoolgirl on him, Hoseok began to take his leave with a threat filling the air. 

“By the way, chérie. I believe you’ve forgotten I can predict your every move. You will not successfully take yourself and your friends away from here tonight. I can Track you to the ends of the Earth.”

Despite the fact that it was November, Y/N ended up selecting a sleeveless, short floaty dress made of chiffon. The garment was unlike anything she had ever seen, rippled fabric attachments slipping over her elbows, and it displayed some of the parts of her body she was growing fond of: her legs and chest. After Hoseok’s reminder that she was trapped, instead of cowering in fear, Y/N decided to play the game. 

It was futile to try and escape. It was dangerous to try and help her friends. What Y/N could do was exploit some of the weaknesses of the coven– hence the sultry dress– and keep one eye on her friends during the gala, if possible. Wrapping her hand around the banister she was guided to by Juliana, Y/N took a moment to look down at the bustling, decked-out great hall. 

Pine trees studded with multicolored lights outlined the hall, and the empty room was transformed into a festive holiday party. Cocktail tables were placed, candles and trays of libations placed on top, and there was an orchestra clumped in one corner of the room playing lively music. The fires roaring had the room feeling quite toasty, but the sight of dozens of vampires milling around in finery has a shiver rolling down her spine. With the cursory glance, Y/N did not spot Sanctuary whites, which had her heart sinking. Clearing her throat, Y/N rolled her shoulders back and began her descent down the red carpeted staircase. 

Mingle, but do not say anything moronic. Eat, drink, dance. Do not cause any kind of scene. Do not let vampires touch you outside of the coven. You are here as an accessory. Do not embarrass us. 

Seokjin’s voice entered her mind, Y/N miraculously not tripping down the stairs in her stilettos, turning her chin to the side. Near the center of the room, Seokjin was speaking to a vampire that physically appeared to be in his late forties. His short hair was swept off his forehead, and he was in a fine tuxedo that Y/N had no doubt cost a small fortune. A strong hand pinching a champagne glass, Y/N watched him actually smile at the vampire he was talking to, but the grin never quite reached his carmine eyes. 

“Oh! Thank you,” Y/N was approached by a staff member almost as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, handing her a glass of bubbly. In one go, Y/N drained the flute, and it was replaced with a fresh one straight away. Glossed lips wrapping around the glass, her eyes narrowed when Jimin started slinking towards her. “Here we fucking go…”

“Dove, that’s not what I chose for you,” Jimin cocked his head, the buttons on his shirt loose and revealing his jutting collar bones. “Though… this is quite the choice, too.”

Jimin dragged his eyes up and down the girl’s figure, which was softer and curvier than it was just a week ago. Mouth filled with venom, Jimin giggled and threaded an arm through the girl’s, reveling in her stiffness when he started to pull her through the crowd. 

“That there is Sarah Berwind. She’s the guest of honor’s wife,” Jimin pointed to an elegant female vampire, dressed in a midnight blue gown. Her silvery blonde hair reminded her of Meredith, though when the vampire turned her head, there were kohl-lined red eyes giving her a reality check. “Over there, a few artists Yoongi invited. Yuki, the lovely woman in gold, she made her fortune in jewelry…”

Y/N didn’t particularly care about any of the vampires Jimin was pointing out. Her focus was solely on finding her friends, to somehow protect them from excessive harm. She knew Meredith was probably beside herself. Her attention was stolen when Jimin came to a stop, near the edge of the room. Jimin had led her straight to Yoongi at the edge of the cleared dancefloor. Y/N blamed Yoongi entirely for Seokjin assigning Namjoon to her as a bodyguard. The artist was listening to a gangly looking vampire, Yoongi’s long hair glossy under all of the lights. 

“So this is your newest source of inspiration. Bellissima,” the gangly vampire drank her in, Y/N’s skin crawling as his eyes lingered over her breasts. “I hear you are to begin modeling with Mr. Park here.”

Y/N was lucky she had been practicing her poker face all night. She had not a semblance of an idea of what the vampire was talking about, but the thought of sitting with Jimin for hours in various poses made her want to vomit into a passing by champagne bucket. Yoongi’s expression was stormy when she didn’t reply right away, Y/N translating the look into a warning. 

“Yes, sir. I can hardly wait,” Y/N lied, her voice high and sweet. Yoongi, stone faced, thought the girl was laying it on too thickly, but the dolt of an immortal beside him bought the lie instantly. Fledglings. “When are we to start modeling, again, Master Yoongi?”

“Wow. Your coven still has acolytes using titles?”

“Our coven is old-school, and that’s the way it should be. That’s all, Damien,” Yoongi waved a hand, the vampire Damien sucking his teeth but getting the hint. He disappeared into the crowd. “You do not have to be a sarcastic little bitch, acolyte.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N squeaked like she was slapped, Jimin laughing and stroking the back of her head. 

“Your behavior tonight is being watched. I suggest you hold your honeyed tongue,” Yoongi’s voice was gruff and low, and Y/N could feel it in her chest. Before she could respond, the music cut off, and someone was clinking a knife against a glass. 

“Welcome to The Breakers. The orchestra has composed a waltz for tonight, and I’d like to invite you all to the dance floor,” Seokjin, the perfect picture of geniality, addressed the partygoers. “As the designer of this estate, Taehyung Kim will be leading the dance, accompanied by our coven’s acolyte.”

Y/N’s head swiveled like a barn owl’s, dozens of pairs of vampiric eyes were on her. Seokjin’s wicked smile finally reached his eyes, knowing Y/N would be mortified by the spectacle. The silence deafening, Jimin’s arm was replaced, that time by an arm clad in familiar tweed. Taehyung, with his shiny gelled waves, peered down at her impassively. 

“I do not know how to dance the waltz,” Y/N panicked, knowing that every immortal in the room could hear her strained whisper into Taehyung’s ear. 

“You will,” Taehyung murmured darkly, and Y/N’s spine went rigid when a new skill was downloaded into her head from Seokjin. If Seokjin could simply Compell knowledge into her head on a moment’s notice, what else could he make her believe?

In the center of the dance floor, Y/N knew exactly how to stand, effortlessly collecting Taehyung’s broad palm, her free hand sliding up the lapel of his grey jacket and resting over his sluggishly beating heart. Like he had done thousands of times before, Taehyung slung his forearm around the small of Y/N’s back. Without further ado, the orchestra struck up a swelling, vibrant tune, and they were off. Y/N didn’t even have to think as her feet moved in time with her partner, maintaining eye-contact as they danced across the floor. In mere seconds, couples of vampires joined the two of them, so at the very least, Y/N wasn’t the complete center of attention. 

Taehyung was one of the most elusive vampires, aside from Yoongi. In fact, she had spoken to Taehyung the least during the week she had spent at The Breakers, mostly because he was often away on business or walking the grounds of the estate by himself. Though undead, his palm was warm against hers, and Y/N slotted her fingers between his just to feel how her blood brought him back to life. He moved gracefully, leading them around the dance floor, all while drinking in every inch of her face. 

“Where are my friends?” Y/N asked after a few moments, on edge that she hadn’t seen a single human aside from staff since the evening began. For all she knew, Meredith or Joseph could have four vampires latched onto them while she danced with the devil. 

“What’s the point in telling you? Nothing you do can change their fate,” Taehyung’s baritone voice was flat, punctuating his point by dipping Y/N low to the ground. He was so close to her face, Y/N could see that his eyelids were different from one another. 

“Then there’s no harm in telling me where they are. I simply want to say goodbye,” Y/N argued, slightly breathless when Taehyung pulled her back up. One of her long, pointed nails traced along the handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket. 

“I thought you were told not to weave fallacies. You continue to believe you can outsmart us,” Taehyung spat back quietly, the fact that they were quite close to the wind section of the orchestra disguising his words from other guests. The set of the human girl’s mouth was firm and unbudging, Taehyung somewhat respecting her for digging her heels in. She might look meek and mild, but the acolyte had a strong moral compass– a death sentence. He decided to throw her a bone. “The acolytes are in the library, the cabaret girls were placed in the music room. Seokjin doesn’t want you near either of those rooms tonight.”

“He seems preoccupied schmoozing with the ‘guest of honor’,” Y/N couldn’t even see Seokjin, but the last time she did, he was still chatting away with the graying vampire named ‘Berwind’. “If there’s nothing I can do to protect them, afford me the decency to apologize to them.”

“Apologize? Isn’t it a great honor for you holy rollers to even be in the presence of vampires? With that logic, they should be kissing your feet for the opportunity to be here.”

“Obviously, that’s not the case. While I might still hold onto the hope that I can outsmart one of you, you hold onto the belief that acolytes end up at Sanctuaries on their own volition.”

There was a count of eight where Taehyung and Y/N stared each other down, flawlessly in sync as they waltzed. She spoke no more, nor did Taehyung, for the remainder of the song, dewy sweat coating her skin from both the undivided attention and exertion from dancing. When a final note of a viola rang out into the air, Y/N held her breath as they bowed to each other, Taehyung brushing his lips over the back of the girl’s hand reluctantly. 

“Do what you want, but reap what you sow.”

Taehyung evaporated like smoke. His duties were carried out, he played the game. Decorated, played nice, and danced with the human girl. Whatever happened after that, Taehyung couldn’t find it in him to care. 

Meanwhile, arms still extended and molded to Taehyung’s shape, Y/N was left entirely by herself, by the grace of God. It was comical, really, how she was able to scamper from the dance floor, clinging to the walls and feeling her way to the library. Another song was already beginning, mortal vital fluid and liquor intoxicated vampires elegantly swaying in throngs. Peripheral vision caught Jeongguk pouring his champagne flute over the décolletage of a short, dark skinned vampire woman, his fingers tangled in her silken braids and his tongue dragging down the skin of her throat. 

Jittery, Y/N was halfway to the library when she heard something quite queer. A muffled, high-pitched sound coming from the front entrance of the mansion had her freezing. The foyer had twin doors on the right and left: the ladies’ reception room, and the male counterpart directly across. Ice crystals formed in her gut, the sounds growing more agonized. It was a chorus of voices wailing, Y/N ducking into a hallway that connected to the foyer in order to find the source of the sounds. Not a soul was in the foyer, not even the human boys that handled valet, Y/N’s knees knocking together when a particularly horrendous female scream pierced her ears. 

“HELP, PLEASE! OH GOD, PLEASE! DON’T KILL ME!” 

Y/N’s skin flashed ice cold. Of course, she stupidly sprung into action, her stilettos falling off in the process, darting towards the gentleman’s reception room. She was human, after all. A desperate cry for help could not be ignored. 

“N-NO! NO, NO, YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED T-TO, YOU! YOU, YOU–”

Y/N pushed the heavy door open, bewildered, not understanding the sight in front of her at all. It was like the most horrific nightmare her brain could conjure, but it was real, it had to be. Her subconscious never considered something so evil. 

There was a young woman dressed in a fringed flapper dress, crouched and cornered on the floor and trembling so hard Y/N thought she was seizing. That, and she was nearly doused in crimson blood, shielding herself from the vampire standing over her, his foot crushing her ankle bone with a sickening crunch. The woman shrieked horribly, the whole floor covered in streaks of crimson. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Not even three paces away was a messy heap of limbs, limp and useless. 

Delicate, white-blonde curls matted with blood. A dimpled smile ironed out into a slack-jawed scream of desperation. White linens now permanently stained with clots of gore, motionless and skin nearly blue. Tossed in a pile, mangled and drained, were Meredith and Joseph, open-eyed and dead. 

The scream that came from Y/N was molten core in origin. It pierced through the merriment of the holiday party like banshee’s wail, the last piece of Y/N’s heart exploding into pieces. Joseph’s beautiful amber eyes were glassy and unseeing. Meredith’s hand was weakly curled around Joseph’s stained shirt sleeve. Nothing but the sound of her own screams registered to Y/N. 

What happened next, Y/N would never be able to get out of her mind. By the time her howling brought the orchestra rooms over to a startling halt, the vampire tormenting the young cabaret worker had Y/N pinned to the wall by her throat. It was Edmund Berwind, the moustached ‘guest of honor’ who had drained her two closest friends dry, stinking of liquor and death. Crushing her vocal chords, Y/N’s screams turned into choked barks, her nails scraping fabric wallpaper from behind her. 

“Aren’t you sweet, honey? I’ve heard–”

Y/N didn’t get the chance to hear what else Berwind was about to taunt her with. While the cabaret girl sobbed in agony, cradling her flattened ankle, Berwin was torn from her and Y/N could only collapse beside the corpses of her friends. 

He entered the room like the Grim Reaper. Whooshing through the air with precision was a metallic sound followed by wet, repulsive squelching. Namjoon, in one fell swoop, unsheathed his sword and slashed forward, severing Berwind’s top half from the bottom. Arterial spurts of blackened immortal blood sprayed the entire reception room, as well as dowsing Y/N completely, the viscous hot fluid running down her face. 

The body fell directly next to Y/N. Desiccated intestines spilled from both cavities of the bodies, followed by other equally ancient organs, Y/N’s skin coated with the blood of her former friends and the gore of a slain vampire. Berwind’s body was still twitching, the severed lower half contorting grotesquely while the top gushed liters of blood, gore, and tissue. Y/N was still screaming, soaking in gore, waiting for the angel of death. She hadn’t been able to spare her friends in time, and she was sure to meet her end considering how furious her ‘bodyguard’ seemed. It was all over. 

Namjoon found a spare pillow set on a cushy chair, using it to mop the filthy mess Berwind made on his sword. With disgust, he used the wallpaper to clean his gloves, large streaky prints staining the walls. Weeping hollowly, Y/N stroked Meredith’s lifeless curls from her face, anticipating her momentary death. One hand slipping over one of Berwind’s eviscerated kidneys spilling onto the floor, Y/N glanced at Namjoon one last time. 

“I Compelled her to avoid being touched.”

Namjoon didn’t answer Seokjin, who promptly locked the door to the reception room. Namjoon kicked the top half of Berwind’s hemorrhaging corpse, fat with too much blood, off to the corner of the room. Using his jacket sleeve to remove eviscerated organs from his face, Namjoon sheathed his sword and laughed at his elder. 

“I’ll leave you to clean up the mess this time, hyung.”

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

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

BLOOD SUCKERS

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, described sex scenes, death, consumption of alcohol and blood, threesome, male and male intercourse, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, wax play, blood play, and more.

Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, angst, reversed harem, best friends to lovers.

🩸My Master List🩸

Intro;

I knew something was wrong in the small city I’ve been living ever since I was born here and after I graduated from high school I was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the whole year this small hell of a city called Spring Villa always rained every day.

Every god damn day.

Not that i was complaining, one summer during a high school trip to California was enough for me to realize hot weather was not for me. One day to be more specific, it was my first time and everything seemed so more alive and colorful. But all come to an end since i had to spend the rest of the trip at the hospital with an IV inside my arm due to being exposed to the sun for too long, just one afternoon which was the same as everyone else did but i was the only one who almost died that day for burning on the sun and end up looking like a hot Cheeto. After that i even started to enjoy the cold humid air hitting my face every day when i left to work, the only thing it didn’t change was my hatred for the rain every morning. Getting wet before work was not very enjoyable, everyone could agree on that note.

But the beautiful weather of the city was not the most uncanny thing about it, it has been almost ten years since a serial killer was circling around the Spring Villa. I was only a teen when everything became known to everyone in the city that something wasn’t right, so many bodies were found around Spring Villa along the years people began to stay at home locked away from everything. Some left the city for once and never came back, those who stayed were people who had nowhere else to go, like me.

My father was terrified of the accidents involving the serial killer in town and he too left before anyone else, leaving me and my mother behind. I couldn’t blame him especially after my brother ended up becoming one of the victims, when the police officer called for my parents to identify the body it didn’t felt real to me. I was not allowed to go since at the time i was underage but, I didn’t even got a chance to say goodbye either. My parents didn’t do a funeral for him, it was all too much to bear so instead he was cremated and thrown on a river on the west side of Spring Villa his favorite place to hide with his friends. Ever since that happened my parents have not been the same, I knew that sooner or later this was bound to happen. When father left it was the last straw of sanity of my mother, she became an alcoholic and well… not good.

I’ve been working at the Spring Grill ever since I graduated high school, apart from so many people leaving the city many others came from cities around the town to get a bit of incloser about the serial killer of Spring Villa, he was never caught and that mystery seemed to amaze many tourists around town.

People from all over came to my stupid silly little city to make videos about the killer of my brother, at first I was so angry at them I wished they just didn’t came at all but, over the years it became dull and empty inside my heart. I had more to worry about then that and since I needed money to pay the rent I was more then happy so many tourist came to Spring Villa.

After all I meet my best friend like that.

Notes: Hello readers! Here’s a new story for all of you I truly hope you guys enjoy this work as much as you all been enjoying my old works. This story has been going around my mind a lot and I thought what better time to write then now? So here it is! Taglist is open so leave your request in the comments and I’ll add you! Love all of you, Author. 🩵

[hamburgerndsprite]

Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 1

Note: This is my first time creating a list of my favorite fanfics. I’ve been on Tumblr for quite a while, and it can be exhausting to sift through all my liked posts to find a specific story. So, I'm putting together this list to make it easier for myself and others looking for some good fanfics to read. I’m still a bit unsure about how to structure this list, but let’s give it a try! Also, all the moodboards are edited by me and therefore I request everyone not to repost them as theirs. Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 (completed)

[OT7]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Coming Home by moonstruck-poet

Pairing- Kang Taehyun x sister!OC, BTS x platonic! OC Summary - Kang Ari comes back from the military for a couple of days to surprise her brother on his birthday.

➺ The Gateway to Your Heart by justimajin

Pairing: OT7 x Reader  Genre: Fluff, Cuteness, Sprinkles of Angst ↳ Magic Shop AU Words: 7.2k Warnings: None!  Summary:  ❝You gave me the best of me, so you give you the best of you.❞  

➺ Requested Drabble by minniepetals

Genre: CEO AU Synopsis: “I love you and I thought everything was okay but I guess not...“

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Nervous by etherealacoustic

Pairing - Kim Namjoon x Female! Reader Summary - Your husband Namjoon and BTS get an invitation to the White House. He's nervous so you comfort him.

➺ His Goodluck Charm by etherealacoustic

Pairing - Kim Namjoon x wife Reader Summary - It'll soon be Namjoon's performance but you had been travelling and were not present during the start.

{SERIES}

➺ Nine Months by gimmesumsuga

Summary: “Your due date has come and gone. Namjoon’s excited and you’re uncomfortable, but you’re both equally as impatient to meet your little girl.” Pairings: Namjoon x Reader Rating: 15+ Warnings:  Pregnancy, Birth, and all the icky bodily fluids that come along with it.

➺ A Dangerous Game by chaoticpuff17

Genre: A Yandere Mafia Au

➺ Guilty by xjoonchildx

pairing: namjoon X reader summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Real by Jiminrings

pairing: seokjin x reader wordcount: 13k glimpse: single dad!jin has all the money to blow off in the world but not time, and swim instructor!y/n just nEEDS to meet this student’s dad who’s never there to pick her up :D ft. someone’s ex that just had to be an olympic swimmer

{SERIES}

➺ The Profit & Love Statement by justimajin

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader ↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ↳ Office AU ↠ Word Count: 105.9k / 24 parts ↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

➺ The a-listers by httpknjoon

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader genres | humor/crack, fluff, angst, actors!au plot | Meet Y/N and Jin, two of Hollywood's hottest celebrities and couple — or are they? Media and fans have been wanting to hear a confirmation for years now. But you two are always good at confusing everyone. Watch as everyone else play this guessing game of what's the relationship between Y/N and Jin.

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ CEO Yoongi by jungshookz

→ pairing: min yoongi x secretary reader  → genre: ceo!au, clumsy!y/n because that’s always nice, jimin is ur best friend, floofy fluff, a touch of nsfw aka office sex → wordcount: 21k+

➺ Requested Drabble by jungshookz

summary- oc has this big ol crush on yoongi and she’s like hella shy around him and they’re paired up for a project and oc is debating if she should say “can you help me” or “can you hold this” but it comes out like “can you hold me” and cheeky yoongi actually does it hehe

➺ Like flowers we bloom by cupofteaguk

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader genre: bad boy au | fluff warnings: slow burn, some knowledge of flowers, yoongi is a meanie in the beginning </3  word count: 5k  summary: in which a garden isn’t the only thing you’re building with Min Yoongi 

➺ No Choice (next to you) by gukyi

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 13k summary:the pros of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: cheap, furnished, close to campus, in a gorgeous old victorian conversion home, and right next to the greek takeout place. the cons of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: min yoongi, senior member of the beta tau sigma fraternity, and his party-throwing, vodka-loving, ruckus-making fraternity buddies, are your neighbors.

➺ One Chance by out-of-jams

↠ Summary ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected. Word Count: 7.4k Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

{SERIES}

➺ It's a Reverse Basket by justimajin

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader ⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU ⇝ Word Count: 90.5k / 21 parts   ⇝ Summary: The goal has never been in your favor, and despite all your best efforts, you don’t think it ever will be. But that’s right when you finally get the chance to turn things around, to do things the way you’ve always wanted to, and to go after what you truly love. However the problem isn’t if you can do it, it’s how much are you willing to do...?

➺ Love is... on tour by httpknjoon

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader genre | enemies to lovers synopsis | Tell everyone you know, Love Is... On Tour! Popstar!YN is set to start her sophomore world tour with her new hit songs, sparkly outfits, and talented live band. There are 352 days of this tour, which means 352 days of YN and her new bassist, Yoongi getting on each other's skin in every way possible.

➺ Fail-Safe by Jiminrings

pairing: yoongi x reader glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration. alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least. warning: [ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

➺ Greedy by xjoonchildx

Pairing: yoongi x reader Summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now. until you.

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ No Time For Love by Jiminrings

pairing: doctor!hoseok x nurse!y/n wordcount: 3k glimpse: "If something happens to you, you come to me — not to the receptionist you like chatting with on your lunch breaks."

➺ Base Line by Jiminrings

pairing: hoseok x y/n wordcount: 3k glimpse: hoseok swears that you’re intolerable, but maybe that’s just because you don’t greet him good morning like you usually do

{SERIES}

➺ Guarded by xjoonchildx

Pairing: Hoseok x reader Summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ A Bite of Sin (M) by sangsanghaebwa

Genre: Smut, vampire!AU, (a bit of angst?) Word count: 4748 Description: After one fateful accident your entire life changes, but so does Jimin, leaving you bitter and lonely until you both break down. Warnings: Mature content

➺ While You're Sleeping by parkdatjimin

warnings: heavy angst, reader unleashes some insecurities to Jimin while he's sleeping, mentions of divorced parents and anxiety wc: 1.6K

➺ To Love You by alessiamalfoyzabini

Pairing | wanted!Jimin x princess!Reader Word Count | 16,1k Summary | You have been separated from your beloved and your kingdom is under the rule of a heartless man, but all is not lost.

➺ Sweetheart by indgio

↳ pairing park jimin x f!reader ↳ genre e2l / lawyer!au / wc 2.8k ↳ warnings very heated make-out session LMAO / ft. bff!taekook / oc is honestly just full of rage

➺ Blooming Days by bluekyun

Genre: fluff, smut, angst & humour Word Count: 15.390 Rating: NC-17 Summary: A typical night for you begins at the library in your favorite chair underneath the lamp in the corner, only to be picked up at 3am by your best friend, Jimin. Despite having slept over in his room several times before, this certain night in Sigma house leads to far more than you ever imagined. But what is to come of your friendship once you reveal those two little lines that will change your lives forever?

➺ Rebound by out-of-jams

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Word Count: 7k. Warnings/Genre: College!au. s2l. Explicit language. Alcohol use. Slight angst. Jealousy. Pining. One shot. PG 16. ↠ Summary ↞ Who cared if Kim Taehyung slept with other people? You sure as hell didn’t. That was what friends with benefits meant, right? No, it didn’t matter that you were halfway in love with him. And no, you sure as hell weren’t going to try and make him jealous with a complete stranger. Nope, not at all. Right? Right.

➺ What I did for Love by krreader

pairing: park jimin x reader genre: angst ; fluff ; mentions of smut summary: Park Jimin had long given up on hope of finding love and thought being a sugar daddy was just an easier way to get what he wanted. but when you start developing feelings for him, to a point where he knew you loved him, he couldn’t help but wonder what love might feel like... 

{SERIES}

➺ Heartburn by Jiminrings

pairing: jimin x reader glimpse: you know it’d happen eventually and you’ve been preparing yourself for the impending hurt — you just don’t want it now. Not now when it’s nearing jimin’s little sister’s birthday; not now when you can swear love isn’t the only thing you can put on the table. alternatively, jimin emotionally cheats on you while your wedding’s six months away. warnings: heavy angst (pls i am once again apologizing to the people that cried bc of this ily), emotional cheating, emotional constipation n baggage, insecurities, broken relationship w parents, intense longing and hurt i can't put into words + specified tags in each installment!

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Falling in crayolove by jungshookz

✎ pairing: kim taehyung x reader ✎ genre: kindergartenteacher!au, workingman!au, F L U F F, tiny bit of angst at the start :-( but this is literally 98% fluff; y/n and taehyung are like two little kids with little crushes on each other ✎ trigger warning(s): implications of getting an abortion!!   ✎ wordcount: 10.5k ✎ summary: y/n is a single mom and taehyung is a single kindergarten teacher. emma knows exactly what she needs to do.

➺ Stuck with You by jungshookz

❥ pairing: kim taehyung x reader ❥ genre: university!au, enemies-to-lovers, fratboy!tae??, comedy that’ll either make you chuckle out loud or roll your eyes and snoRT or maybe u won’t laugh that’s cool too, domestic fluff because i want to go grocery shopping with tae toO (but also fluff in general!!), smutty smut so make sure to read this with your phone’s brightness lowered all the dang way, hi @ librarian!namjoon!!! fratboy!jungkook is also in here  ❥ wordcount: 37k ❥ summary: kim taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things that have ever happened to you. 

➺ In Bloom {M} by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Tattooed&Pierced!Taehyung x Wife!Reader WordCount: 6.2k Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut Summary:  A tattoo artist taehyung, and a florist's wife reader, have their shops side by side, and one day they fight, and taehyung feels bad because of which he visits her with their daughter but she’s very angry, so he plans a trip to take her to a garden where they met for the first time and they make up, with some smut and the reader revealing she’s expecting.

➺ Swoon by minisugakoobies

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, non-Idol!AU Word Count: 3.6k Summary: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”  Warnings: swearing, kissing, Tae's wearing his red leather jacket from his Paris trip, we've also got Disco Jungkook and Harley Quinn Jimin in here

➺ Soft Spot by v-hope

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2k Summary: "where Tae is super soft for the reader who is a part of the staff and everyone starts noticing."

{SERIES}

➺ Catching a Case of Doctor Blues by justimajin

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader  ⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ↳ Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU  ⇢ Word Count: 67.4k / 20 parts ⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye...

[ JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Requested drabble by jungshookz

summary- jungkook and yn do this thing where they fake marriage proposals to get free stuff in restaurants until jungkook is actually seriously proposing to his long time gf yn and she doesn't get the clue

➺ if-then by Jiminrings

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 7k Glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively. alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset. Warning: [ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

➺ Mature by Jiminrings

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 8k Glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed. alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea. Warning: [ push n pull fic YIPPPEEEEE, fluff, angst, So Much Yearning, friends to lovers trope, jealousy, dunking on a stewpid jk (as one does), arguments that kinda hit home, redemption!! ]

➺ Out of Gas? {M} by 97kuu

Paring: Jungkook x reader! Genre; jungkookbestfriend! Friends to lovers! WC; under 3k Summary; It was a setup between Taehyung, namjoon and Jungkook to get him to hook up with you in the car. However, his guilty heart and physical desire revealed that he wanted more than what he was willing to confess that night..

➺ Fifth Wish by Jiminrings

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 18k Glimpse: jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you. Warning: [ angst, unrequited love (at first), emotional constipation, jk is Very Frustrating to be with, so much pining, the constant repetition of the notion that one must amount to something to be deserving of love, rlly wholesome fluff, mentions of blood n injuries, whole 360 redemption arc dw i am not evil ]

➺ Tutus & Tiaras (M) by 1kook

DILF!JK SPECIAL! rating m (18+) word count 10k summary: your first pregnancy through the lens of your husband

➺ Gamer Boy {M} by hoebii

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader Genre : Established Relationship!Au, Smut Rating : 18+ Warnings : sexual content, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism I guess?  Wc : 2.3k

[tatumrileyslover]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 ℜ𝔬𝔬𝔪

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: vampire!AU, victorian!AU, strangers to lovers, slow burn, forbitten forbidden love, eventual light smut, angst, gothic,

Warnings: blood, death, smut, manipulation, possessive behavior, mild violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, gaslighting.

Word count: 30k

Summary: In a grand countryside estate, where roses bloom with unnatural darkness, a mysterious stranger appears seeking shelter. Park Jimin, with his otherworldly beauty and cultured charm, quickly becomes an intimate companion to the Baron's daughter. But as girls in the village begin falling mysteriously ill and strange dreams plague her nights, she discovers his dark nature - and must choose between the warmth of mortal days or an eternal night in his arms.

a/n: ok so this isn’t meant to be in two parts I just hit the tumblr limit so this is the first part. this was originally supposed to be out for Halloween but god did I get too into it and made it more than double the length I want it to be lol. anyway this is based of the gothic novel Carmilla.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔴𝔬

The house sat like a slumbering beast against the autumn sky, its grey stone walls rising from mist-shrouded gardens that had long since forgotten their original design. What was once carefully manicured grandeur had softened over decades into something wilder, though no less beautiful - roses climbed beyond their trellises to embrace weathered statues, and ancient trees stretched their branches toward leaded glass windows that caught the dying light like caught tears.

It was the last great house for fifty miles in any direction, a fact that both the local townspeople and its inhabitants were acutely aware of. While other noble families had slowly surrendered to changing fortunes, selling their lands and titles piece by piece, the family had endured it all. Their walls remained strong, their cellars remained stocked, and their daughter remained safely tucked away behind iron gates and stone walls.

(Y/n) stood at her bedroom window, watching the road that wound through the valley like a black ribbon. Soon it would bring Bertha, her dear friend from the finishing school in Graz. The thought brought a smile to her face as she pressed her fingertips to the cool glass. Three years had passed since they'd last seen each other, maintaining their friendship through letters that grew increasingly infrequent as distance and time worked their inevitable magic. But now, finally, Bertha would be here - bringing with her stories of balls and suitors and all the life that seemed to exist everywhere except within these walls.

A rap at the door drew her attention. "Come in, Papa."

Her father entered, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the candlelight. Though still handsome, years of solitude had etched themselves into the corners of his eyes and mouth. Since her mother's death twelve years ago, he had devoted himself to his studies and his daughter in equal measure, though the former often seemed to win out over the latter.

"Still watching the road, my dear? It will not make her arrive any faster."

"I know, Papa." (Y/n) turned from the window, her skirts rustling against the thick carpet. At nineteen, she possessed the kind of beauty that came from never knowing hardship - skin untouched by sun, hands that had never known labor, eyes that still held the bright curiosity of childhood. "But I cannot help it. The house feels different already, knowing she's coming. Less..."

"Less what, my dear?"

"Less like a cage," she said softly, then immediately regretted her words at the shadow that crossed her father's face. "Forgive me, Papa. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know everything you do is for my protection."

He crossed to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You are all I have left in this world, (Y/n). Your mother..." He paused, as he always did when speaking of her mother. "She made me promise to keep you safe. The world beyond these walls grows more dangerous with each passing year."

(Y/n) nodded dutifully, though her heart ached. She knew every inch of this house, from the wine cellars with their dusty bottles to the attic where her mother's belongings still sat in trunks, untouched since the day she died. She knew which floorboards creaked, which windows caught the morning light, which corners held shadows even at midday. The servants were kind but distant, treating her with the careful reverence one might show a precious object in a museum.

Her world was contained within these walls, and while she could not truly miss what she had never known, sometimes she felt like a character in one of her beloved novels - the imprisoned princess waiting for life to begin. Her only real glimpses of the outside world came from her books, filled with adventures and romance, and from her occasional trips into town with her father for Sunday services.

Even those brief excursions felt like stepping into another world. The townspeople would stare and whisper behind their hands - not unkindly, but with the sort of fascination reserved for rare creatures. The family's wealth and isolation had bred countless rumors over the years, though none came close to the simple truth: they were just lonely, the three of them. Father, daughter, and the great house that held them both.

From her bedroom window, (Y/n) watched the winding road that cut through the valley below their estate. Even at this early hour, she could make out the occasional carriage making its way through the autumn mist. Each distant movement caught her eye, her heart quickening before inevitably sinking as they passed the turn that would bring them up towards the Manor.

"Mademoiselle, you're fidgeting again," Madame Perrodon's gentle reproach came accompanied by a firmer stroke of the hairbrush. "How can I be expected to tame these waves if you cannot sit still?"

"I apologize, Madame." (Y/n) forced herself to be still, though her eyes remained fixed on the distant road. It had been three years since she'd last seen Bertha - three years of letters describing balls and suitors and a world so different from (Y/n)'s carefully contained existence. She could still remember their last afternoon together, huddled in this very window seat, Bertha's eyes bright with excitement about the finishing school that awaited her in Graz.

"Your mother's roses are particularly beautiful this autumn," Madame Perrodon commented, her fingers working deftly to pin (Y/n)'s soft hair into an acceptable style. "Though Marcel lets them grow wild as wolves these days."

The mention of her mother drew (Y/n)'s attention to the familiar portrait hanging opposite her dressing table. The smile seemed to hold secrets, her hands painted delicately among the same roses that now grew unchecked below. Sometimes, in certain lights, (Y/n) thought she could see herself in that smile, though her own felt considerably more practiced.

Through the open door came the excited whispers of maids passing in the hallway. "The kitchen's been baking since dawn..." "All the best linens..." "Miss Rheinfeldt's room is prepared..."

On any other Sunday, they would be preparing for their weekly journey into town for services. (Y/n) felt a twinge of disappointment - she would miss her brief exchanges with Catherine and Marie, the milliner's daughters. Their whispered conversations about books and fashion during the fellowship hour were one of her few connections to girls her own age, even if her father and Madame Perrodon watched these interactions with careful eyes.

"There," Madame declared, securing the final pin. "Now you look-"

But (Y/n) had already risen, drawn to her window by the sound of wheels on gravel. Below, she could see Marcel and Emma in the gardens, their heads turning toward the sound as well. How she envied their easy companionship, the way Emma could freely kneel in the dirt beside her grandfather, learning the secrets of the gardens that had once been her mother's pride. On warmer days, (Y/n) would often sit on the stone bench nearby, watching them work while pretending to read. Marcel would share stories of her mother's passion for the roses, how she would spend hours tending them herself despite her station.

The old house creaked and sighed its morning song around her, floorboards protesting beneath thick carpets as (Y/n) made her way down the grand staircase. Carved angels watched her descent from the bannister, their wooden faces worn smooth by generations of trailing hands. Her mother had once told her they were guardians, keeping watch over the family. Now their blank eyes seemed to follow her, as if they knew something she didn't.

The morning light filtered through tall windows, catching dust motes that danced in the air. Preparations for Bertha's arrival had stirred up the house's usual stillness. Somewhere below, she could hear Mrs. Klaus, the housekeeper, directing maids about the proper arrangement of fresh flowers. The scent of baking bread and autumn spices wafted up from the kitchen - Bertha had always loved Cook's cinnamon cakes.

Memories of their last visit together surfaced as (Y/n) paused on the landing. They had been sixteen then, sharing secrets in the library's window seat while rain drummed against the glass. Bertha, already worldlier despite their same age, had whispered about a young man she'd danced with at her cousin's wedding. (Y/n) had listened, enraptured, trying to imagine what it would feel like to waltz in someone's arms.

The great hall below bustled with unusual activity. Curtains had been drawn back fully, allowing autumn light to illuminate the family portraits that lined the walls. Generations of ancestors stared down at her, their painted eyes holding the same careful reserve she saw in her father's. Her mother's portrait was different though - hung separately near the library doors, captured in the garden she'd loved so dearly. Sometimes (Y/n) would catch her father standing before it, lost in thoughts he never shared.

The morning air had turned peculiar as (Y/n) stepped out onto the terrace. What had started as a bright autumn day now held an odd heaviness, as if the sky itself were holding its breath. The roses swayed in a wind that carried the first real bite of winter, their late blooms scattering crimson petals across the gravel paths.

Marcel and Emma were working near her mother's favorite fountain, their quiet conversation carrying across the garden. The old gardener looked up as she passed, touching his cap with soil-stained fingers.

"The weather's turning, Miss," he called, his weathered face creasing with concern. "Best not stay out too long."

But (Y/n) was already moving toward her favorite spot - the ancient oak that stood sentinel by the pond. Its branches spread like protective arms above the water, creating a private world beneath its canopy. Here, she had spent countless hours reading, dreaming, watching the play of light on water. Here, she and Bertha had shared their last goodbye, promising to write every week.

The oak's massive roots created a natural seat, worn smooth by years of use. Settling herself against the trunk, (Y/n) opened her book but found herself watching the drive instead. The mist had thickened rather than burning off, unusual for this time of day. It crept up from the valley like something alive, wreathing the gardens in white tendrils that seemed to reach for her with ghostly fingers.

The mist continued to thicken, unusual for this time of day, creeping up from the valley like something alive. A chill wind rustled through the oak's branches, sending leaves spiraling down to dot the pond's surface. Each ripple distorted (Y/n)'s reflection, making her appear and disappear like a ghost in the darkening water.

"Please hurry, Bertha," she whispered, pulling her shawl tighter. The weather seemed determined to spoil their reunion. Already the bright autumn morning had given way to something more ominous - clouds gathering above the estate like mourners, the air heavy with unshed rain. If the Rheinfeldts didn't arrive soon, they risked traveling these winding roads in a storm.

The sound of approaching hooves cut through her thoughts. (Y/n) straightened, heart leaping - but no, this was a single rider, not the Rheinfeldts' carriage. Through gaps in the mist, she could make out a figure in a dark coat, riding with the urgent purpose of a messenger rather than a social caller.

From their position near the roses, Marcel and Emma paused in their work to watch the rider's approach. A servant hurried out to meet him, and even at this distance, something in their exchange made (Y/n)'s stomach tighten. The messenger's stance, the careful way the servant accepted what appeared to be a letter...

"That doesn't bode well, does it?" Emma's voice carried softly across the garden.

"Hush, girl," Marcel replied, but his tone held worry rather than rebuke.

(Y/n) turned back to the pond, forcing herself to dismiss their concerns. Perhaps it was simply business for her father - he often received correspondence from his associates in Vienna. The water's surface had grown as dark as steel, reflecting the gathering clouds. A few fat drops of rain began to fall, creating perfect circles that spread and disappeared.

Footsteps on the gravel path made her look up. Her father approached slowly, his usual brisk stride replaced by something heavier, more measured. Without speaking, he lowered himself to sit beside her on the oak's roots - an intimacy so unusual that (Y/n) felt her breath catch.

"Papa?" Her voice sounded very young suddenly, even to her own ears.

He didn't speak immediately, his hands working at something in his lap. When he finally turned to her, she saw he held a letter. The broken seal bore the Rheinfeldt family crest.

"My dearest," he began, his voice gentle in a way that made her want to cover her ears. "I have news about Bertha."

With trembling fingers, (Y/n) accepted the letter. The paper was fine, expensive - the kind Bertha's father always used for his correspondence. But as she unfolded it, the familiar letterhead seemed somehow more formal, more foreboding:

From Baron Rheinfeldt

Castle Rheinfeldt

October 15th, 1872

My Dear Friend,

It is with the heaviest of hearts that I must write to you, bearing news that has shattered our household and will, I fear, bring great sorrow to your own - particularly to your dear (Y/n), whose friendship meant so much to my beloved Bertha.

I know you were expecting us within the week, and I cannot express the pain it causes me to instead send this letter. My darling daughter, my only child, has been taken from us in circumstances so peculiar and distressing that I can scarcely put them to paper. Yet you must know, if only to spare your household the anxiety of waiting for an arrival that can never come.

Three weeks ago, Bertha began to speak of strange dreams. She would wake in the night, claiming visitations from a dark figure that left her weak and frightened. We dismissed these as mere fancies at first - you know how imaginative she could be. But soon she grew pale and listless, her strength declining day by day. The local physician could find no cause for her malady, though she complained of a sharp pain in her breast and a gradual suffocation that seemed to worsen as each night fell.

Two nights ago, she woke screaming that the figure was in her room, but when we rushed to her aid, nothing was amiss. By morning, she could barely speak, her pulse so faint as to be almost imperceptible. Before the sun set that day, my beautiful child, my darling Bertha, had left this world.

The doctors speak of a mysterious illness, but can offer no true explanation for how a young woman in the bloom of health could decline so rapidly. I write this not only to explain our absence but to warn you - there have been other cases in our region of young women suffering similar fates. Perhaps it is some fever that has yet to be understood by medical science.

Please convey my deepest apologies to (Y/n). I know she and Bertha had been planning this reunion with great excitement. The thought of their joy makes this tragedy all the more bitter to bear.

Your friend in profound grief,

Baron Frederick Rheinfeldt

The letter trembled in (Y/n)'s hands, its meaning somehow both clear and incomprehensible. She read it again, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less final.

"But," she said finally, her voice small, "we've prepared her room. Cook made cinnamon cakes."

Her father's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. The gesture only made everything feel more wrong.

"The roses," she continued, the words spilling out like water. "They're beautiful right now - Bertha always loved them in autumn. She said they looked like sunset caught in flowers. We were going to press them in books, like we used to. I saved that collection of poetry she wrote about in her last letter - the one with the blue binding she described. It's on her bedside table, waiting..."

Tears came then, not in great heaving sobs, but in silent streams that seemed to surprise her. She touched her cheek, looking at the moisture on her fingers as if she couldn't quite understand where it had come from.

"She can't be..." (Y/n) smoothed the letter in her lap, focusing on removing every crease. "We were going to show her the new kittens in the stable. She doesn't even know about them yet. And her room - we put fresh lavender in all the drawers, just as she likes. The blue guest room, Papa. Her favorite. Madame Perrodon helped me arrange dried flowers just as she described seeing at that ball in Vienna..."

The afternoon light had begun to fade, the mist curling thicker around the garden's edges. Her father shifted uncomfortably on the oak's roots beside her.

"My dear, perhaps we should-"

"And the piano," (Y/n) interrupted, her voice taking on a peculiar, singsong quality. "We've had it tuned specially. That new piece she mentioned - the Mozart sonata. I've been practicing it for weeks so we could play it together. She was so excited about showing me how her technique has improved since finishing school. She said..." Her voice cracked. "She said we would play it for you, after dinner on her first night here."

A cool wind rustled through the oak's branches, sending dead leaves spiraling down to dot the pond's surface. Each ripple distorted (Y/n)'s reflection, making her appear and disappear like a ghost in the darkening water.

"(Y/n)." Her father's voice was gentle but insistent. "The weather is turning. We should return to the house."

But she shook her head, clutching the letter tighter. "Just a little longer. She might still... There could be a mistake. Baron Rheinfeldt is older now, he could have become confused. If we just wait..."

The hours crept by, marked only by the gradual darkening of the sky and the periodic attempts of servants to coax them inside. First Marcel, pausing in his work to suggest rain was coming. Then Emma, sent by Cook with a tray of tea that grew cold, untouched. Finally Madame Perrodon herself, wringing her hands in distress at the sight of her charge sitting so still in the growing dark.

"Mademoiselle, please. You'll catch your death."

"You see?" (Y/n) seized on the common phrase with desperate hope. "People say that - 'catch your death.' But they don't really die. It's just something people say."

The sun had long since disappeared behind heavy clouds, the mist thickening into true darkness. One by one, lights began to appear in the house windows, warm squares of yellow that seemed to emphasize the gathering gloom in the garden. The pond's surface had grown as dark as steel, reflecting nothing now but the occasional ripple of rain drops.

Her father had remained beside her throughout, his silence both a comfort and a terrible confirmation. Now he stirred again, his joints surely aching from sitting so long on the hard roots.

"My dearest," he began, but stopped at the sound of distant carriage wheels on the road below.

(Y/n)'s head snapped up, hope flaring painfully in her chest. Through the mist, she could make out the bobbing lights of carriage lanterns, weaving their way up the treacherous road that led to their estate.

"You see?" she whispered. "You see? I knew if we just waited-"

The crash, when it came, was distant but unmistakable - the splintering of wood and the high, terrible scream of frightened horses cutting through the night air. The lantern lights jerked violently, then disappeared altogether.

Father and daughter sat frozen, straining to hear through the darkness. The silence that followed seemed to stretch eternally, broken only by the soft patter of rain on leaves.

"Papa?" (Y/n)'s voice had lost its childish insistence, fear creeping in at last.

(Y/n) was moving before her mind could catch up with her legs, her skirts gathered in trembling hands as she rushed toward the road. Behind her, she could hear her father's voice calling out, "(Y/n)! Wait!" but the sound seemed distant, unimportant.

The path down to the road was treacherous in daylight; in the gathering dark it was nearly impossible. Her boots slipped on wet leaves, branches caught at her hair and dress like grasping fingers. The mist had settled thick between the ancient trees, turning familiar paths into something alien and forbidding. Behind her, she could hear the gathering sounds of pursuit - servants calling out, the bounce of lantern light, her father's increasingly urgent voice.

It wasn't until she reached the road itself that doubt began to creep in. The fog here was even thicker, seeming to swallow the weak moonlight whole. The trees pressed close on either side, their branches forming a dark canopy overhead that blocked what little light remained. Every sound seemed muffled, wrong - as if the fog itself was drinking them in.

"Miss (Y/n)!" Marcel's voice, accompanied by approaching lantern light. "Please wait for us!"

She paused then, her heart pounding, suddenly aware of how far she'd run and how dark it had grown. The crash had sounded closer. Or had her fear made her imagine that?

Her father caught up to her first, slightly out of breath. "Reckless girl," he muttered, but there was relief rather than anger in his voice. Behind him came Marcel and two other servants with lanterns, their light creating strange, shifting shadows among the trees.

A horse's frightened whinny cut through the fog, much closer now. (Y/n) moved forward more cautiously, her father's hand firm on her arm. The lantern light caught something metallic ahead - the gleam of an overturned carriage wheel, still spinning slowly.

As they drew closer, the scene emerged from the fog like a painting being unveiled. The carriage lay on its side, one wheel completely shattered. The horses, still partially harnessed, stamped and snorted nervously, their breath visible in the cold air. This was not the Rheinfeldts' familiar family carriage - this was something altogether grander and stranger, its black lacquered surface gleaming wet in the lantern light, its gilt trim suggesting foreign wealth.

"Hello?" her father called out. "Is anyone hurt?"

A movement near the carriage door drew their attention. A woman's voice, low and melodious, called back in accented French. "Ah, thank heaven. We've had quite the accident, as you can see."

The door, now facing skyward, opened with some effort. A figure emerged - a woman, elegant even in disarray, her dark traveling clothes of the finest quality. There was something striking about her face, though (Y/n) found she couldn't quite focus on its details in the shifting light.

"Allow me to assist you, Madame," her father stepped forward, helping the woman climb down from the tilted carriage. Marcel and the other servants moved to steady her descent.

"You are most kind," the woman said, switching to perfect if accented English. "We were on our way to visit friends in the next county when our driver took ill suddenly. The fog..." she gestured eloquently at their surroundings. "The road proved more treacherous than expected."

"Your driver - is he-?" her father began.

"Gone, I'm afraid. Fled into the woods in some sort of fit. But my greater concern is my son." Here she turned back to the carriage, genuine distress entering her voice. "He was thrown rather badly when we overturned. I haven't been able to wake him."

"Several of my men might assist in extracting him, Madame," her father offered, already gesturing to the servants.

The elegant woman nodded, stepping aside with a grace that seemed out of place in their dire circumstances. The lantern light caught her features strangely - one moment sharp as cut glass, the next oddly indistinct, like a painting seen through water.

Marcel and Thomas, one of the stronger footmen, approached the carriage carefully. The fog seemed to curl around their feet as they worked, making their movements appear dreamlike and sluggish. From within the dark interior came the sound of shifting fabric, a soft groan.

"Gentle, if you please," the woman called out, though her tone held more courtesy than real concern. "He is all I have in this world."

The words were right, (Y/n) thought, but something in their delivery rang false, like an actress reciting well-rehearsed lines. She found herself watching the woman's face, trying to fix its details in her mind, but each time she looked away, the memory of those features seemed to slip like water through her fingers.

"Carefully now," her father directed as the servants began to lift their unconscious charge. The lantern light swept across the scene, and (Y/n) felt her breath catch in her throat.

The young man they carried was beauty made flesh - there was no other way to describe him. His face, unconscious and unguarded, held a quality that seemed to transcend mere human comeliness. Dark hair fell across his forehead in elegant disarray, and even in the poor light, his skin held a luminous quality, like moonlight on fresh snow. His clothes, though disarranged by the accident, were clearly of the finest quality - black velvet and silk that seemed to drink in the lantern light.

There was something about his face that tugged at (Y/n)'s memory, something tantalizingly familiar that danced just beyond her grasp. She found herself moving forward without conscious thought, drawn by an impulse she couldn't name.

"(Y/n)," her father's warning tone brought her up short. She realized she'd nearly reached out to touch the unconscious stranger's hand.

"He will be well, I think," the woman said, watching (Y/n) with an expression that might have been amusement. "Just stunned by the fall. What fortune that we should crash so near to such a grand house." Her gesture encompassed the manor, barely visible through the fog above them. "I don't suppose..."

"Of course," her father said immediately, nobility's obligations winning out over any hesitation. "We can offer shelter while arrangements are made for your onward journey."

"You are too kind." Again, that perfect courtesy that somehow felt hollow. "I hate to impose further, but I find myself in something of a predicament. I have urgent business that cannot wait - a matter of inheritance that requires my immediate presence. My son, however, is in no condition to travel."

(Y/n) watched in growing amazement as the woman outlined her request with elegant precision. Might her son remain here, under their care, while she attended to these pressing matters? She would, of course, send word within a day or two of her return date. She had friends in the region she'd been traveling to visit - though oddly, she didn't name them - who would vouch for their character.

"I cannot ask you to take on such a responsibility," she said, in a tone that suggested she expected exactly that.

"Nonsense," her father replied, though (Y/n) detected a slight unease in his voice. "We can hardly turn away those in need, especially of our own class. Your son will be well cared for until your return."

"You ease my heart," the woman said, though (Y/n) noticed she hadn't once looked back at her unconscious son since the servants had lifted him. "I can arrange alternate transport from the next town, if one of your men might assist me that far?"

It was all happening so quickly. Even as her father gave instructions for a groom to accompany the mysterious woman, even as Marcel and Thomas began their careful ascent toward the house with their unconscious burden, (Y/n) found herself struggling to understand how smoothly it had all been arranged. It was only when the woman stepped close to bid her farewell that a chill ran down her spine.

"Watch over him for me, dear one," the woman said softly, her fingers brushing (Y/n)’s cheek in a gesture that felt both intimate and alien. This close, her eyes seemed to hold a peculiar depth, like wells that went down forever. "He can be... difficult when he wakes. But I'm sure you'll manage him beautifully."

Then she was gone, disappearing into the fog with their groom, leaving behind only the overturned carriage and her unconscious son - and a lingering sense that something momentous and terrible had just been set in motion.

The house seemed to stir with nervous energy as they made their way back up the path, lanterns bobbing like will-o'-wisps through the fog. Marcel and Thomas carried their unconscious guest with careful precision, while Madame Perrodon hurried ahead to prepare the blue guest room - Bertha's room, (Y/n) thought with a sudden pang that felt almost like betrayal.

The entrance hall's warmth was a shock after the chill fog, the familiar space somehow changed by the evening's events. Servants whispered in corners, stealing glances at the beautiful stranger being carried up the grand staircase. The house itself seemed to hold its breath, ancient wood creaking under strange footsteps.

"The blue room, sir?" Madame Perrodon called down from the landing, her face pinched with concern.

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten. "Papa, not-"

"It is the most suitable guest room," her father said quietly. His hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. "And it is... available."

The blue room had always been the grandest of their guest chambers. Its walls were painted a soft cornflower blue that caught the morning light beautifully, making the gilt-framed mirrors dance with reflected sunshine. Now, in the flickering candlelight, those same walls seemed almost grey, the mirrors reflecting only shadows as they carried his limp form through the doorway.

The bed was already turned down - prepared that morning for Bertha, (Y/n) remembered with another stab of grief. The very sheets that had been aired with lavender for her friend would now cradle this strange young man. She watched as they laid him carefully on the blue silk counterpane, his dark hair stark against the pale pillows, his face ethereally beautiful in the candlelight.

"Mademoiselle," Madame Perrodon touched her arm. "Perhaps you should retire. It's been a trying day."

But (Y/n) couldn't move, transfixed by the scene before her. Mrs. Klaus had appeared with hot water and cloths, presumably to tend to any injuries. The housekeeper's usually efficient movements seemed hesitant as she approached the bed, as if she too sensed something not quite natural about their mysterious guest.

"He appears unmarked," Mrs. Klaus said finally, her voice holding a note of surprise. "Not a scratch on him, despite the violence of the accident."

"Providence," her father murmured, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

(Y/n) found her gaze drawn to his face again. In the better light, she could study his features properly - the elegant arch of his brows, the perfect curve of his mouth, the almost translucent quality of his skin. There was something about him that nagged at her memory, like a word trapped on the tip of her tongue.

"Look how peaceful he sleeps," she heard herself say, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. "Like a painting."

"(Y/n)." Her father's tone was sharper now. "To your room. It's not proper for you to..."

He trailed off as the boy stirred slightly, his head turning on the pillow. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, watching, but he didn't wake. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, and again (Y/n) felt that maddening sense of familiarity.

"Come, mademoiselle." Madame Perrodon's grip on her arm was firmer now. "You've had a shock. First the news about poor Bertha, and now this excitement. You must rest."

The mention of Bertha's name seemed to break whatever spell had held (Y/n) in place. She allowed herself to be led from the room, though she couldn't help glancing back one last time. In the moment before the door closed, she could have sworn she saw his lips curve in the slightest smile.

Sleep proved impossible that night. (Y/n) lay in her bed, listening to the house settle around her with unfamiliar creaks and sighs. Even Madame Perrodon's usual soft breathing from the adjoining room provided little comfort. The events of the day swirled in her mind like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind - Bertha's letter, the crash, the strange elegant woman, and most persistently, the beautiful unconscious young man now sleeping in what should have been her friend's room.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, hauntingly perfect in the candlelight. That maddening sense of familiarity tugged at her thoughts, like a half-remembered dream. There was something about the curve of his mouth, the arch of his brow...

A floorboard creaked in the hallway - probably just Mrs. Klaus making her nightly rounds, but (Y/n) found herself holding her breath, straining to hear. The blue room was just down the corridor. Was their mysterious guest still sleeping? The woman - his mother, though something about that relationship felt odd - had said he might be 'difficult' when he woke. What had she meant by that?

The wind picked up outside, branches scratching against her window like skeletal fingers. The sound reminded her of the carriage crash, of the fog-shrouded road. How strange that the woman had left so quickly, abandoning her supposedly beloved son to the care of strangers. And where had the driver gone? The more (Y/n) thought about it, the more questions arose.

She must have drifted off eventually, for she found herself in that strange space between sleeping and waking, where reality blurs at the edges. The moonlight through her window seemed to pool like silver water on the floor, and in its glow, she thought she saw a figure standing at the foot of her bed. A beautiful face looking down at her, familiar yet wrong somehow...

(Y/n) jerked awake, her heart pounding. The room was empty, the moonlight now nothing more than pale squares on the carpet. But the sense of a presence lingered, making her skin prickle with unnamed awareness.

"Madame?" she called softly, but only silence answered from the adjoining room.

Sleep proved even more elusive after that. She lay awake until the first grey light of dawn began to creep through her windows, bringing with it the usual morning sounds of the household stirring to life. She could hear servants moving below, their muffled voices carrying up through the floorboards. The smell of breakfast began to wind its way up the stairs - fresh bread and coffee, the normal rhythms of the house attempting to reassert themselves after the previous day's disruption.

A knock at her door made her start. "Mademoiselle?" Madame Perrodon's voice. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, come in."

The French woman entered, already dressed for the day, her face carrying an odd expression. "Your father requests your presence at breakfast. Our... guest still sleeps."

The morning light in the breakfast room seemed too harsh, too ordinary after the strangeness of the night. (Y/n) picked at her toast, aware of the unusual tension around the table. Her father sat at his customary place, the morning paper untouched beside his coffee cup. Even the servants seemed to move differently, their usual efficient routines interrupted by frequent glances toward the ceiling - toward the blue room above.

"Has anyone checked on him?" (Y/n) finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

"Mrs. Klaus looked in at dawn," her father replied, frowning slightly. "Still sleeping, apparently. Quite deeply."

"It's nearly ten o'clock," Madame Perrodon observed, her usual calm manner betraying a hint of unease. "Should we perhaps summon Dr. Werner?"

"The mother said he would sleep unusually long," her father said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "Something about a previous illness making him sensitive to travel."

"Did she?" (Y/n) asked, trying to recall the woman's exact words from the night before. But like so much about their mysterious visitor's mother, the details seemed to slip away when examined too closely.

The breakfast room fell silent again, broken only by the clink of silver against china and the tick of the great clock in the hall. Through the windows, (Y/n) could see Marcel in the gardens, seemingly intent on his work but positioned suspiciously close to the section beneath the blue room's windows.

Hours crept by with excruciating slowness. (Y/n) attempted to focus on her needlework, but found herself counting the chimes of the clock instead. Eleven. Twelve. One...

It was well past two in the afternoon when Mrs. Klaus appeared in the drawing room doorway, her usually unflappable demeanor slightly disturbed. "Sir," she addressed (Y/n)'s father, "The young gentleman is awake. He's asked to pay his respects to the household."

Something in the housekeeper's tone made (Y/n) look up sharply. Mrs. Klaus's face held an odd expression - not quite fear, but something adjacent to it.

"How does he seem?" her father asked, setting aside his book.

"Most..." Mrs. Klaus paused, seeming to search for the right word. "Most elegant, sir. Though perhaps still somewhat affected by his ordeal. He's asked to dress properly before receiving visitors."

"Of course," her father nodded. "We shall receive him here when he's ready."

The next half hour was torture. (Y/n) found herself smoothing her skirts repeatedly, hyper-aware of her reflection in the drawing room mirrors. That nagging sense of familiarity had returned, stronger now that their guest was awake.

When the drawing room door finally opened again, the late afternoon sun had begun to slant through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. In that golden light, their guest appeared like something from a painting - perfectly composed, unnaturally beautiful. His dark clothes were immaculate, showing no sign of the previous night's accident. His face...

(Y/n) felt her breath catch. In the daylight, that sense of recognition was almost overwhelming.

He moved into the room with impossible grace, every gesture deliberate yet fluid, like a dancer marking steps to unheard music. His dark eyes found (Y/n)'s immediately, and something passed between them - recognition, connection, a current of awareness that made her hands tremble in her lap.

"Sir," he addressed her father with a slight bow, his voice musical and deeply cultured. "I must express my profound gratitude for your hospitality. My name is..." Here he paused, almost imperceptibly, "Park. I find myself indebted to your kindness."

"Not at all," her father replied, though (Y/n) noticed he seemed slightly dazzled by their guest's presence. "We could hardly leave you in such circumstances. I am the Baron, and this is my daughter, (Y/n)."

Those dark eyes returned to her face. "Mademoiselle." He took her offered hand, his fingers cool against her skin. "Your beauty rivals the stars in their midnight dance"

(Y/n) felt herself flush, acutely aware of how forward such a comment was - and how, strangely, no one seemed to mind. Even Madame Perrodon, usually so quick to enforce propriety, appeared captivated.

"You must still be recovering from your ordeal," (Y/n) found herself saying. "Please, sit." She gestured to the chair nearest hers, then wondered at her own boldness.

He smiled - a subtle thing that seemed to transform his entire face - and accepted the seat. "You are too kind. Though I confess, the accident itself is somewhat... hazy in my memory."

"Not unusual, given the circumstances," her father said. "Your mother mentioned you'd been unwell recently?"

Again that barely perceptible pause. "Yes, a recurring condition that makes travel... challenging. Which makes your generous offer of shelter all the more appreciated."

"How fortunate that you were so near when the accident occurred," (Y/n) said, then immediately worried it might sound accusatory.

But he only turned that devastating smile on her again. "Fortune indeed. Though I believe some meetings are destined, don't you? Written in the stars, as poets would say."

The way he looked at her as he said it - as if they were sharing a private joke, as if they'd known each other forever - made her heart flutter strangely. That nagging sense of familiarity grew stronger.

"Do you read poetry, Mademoiselle?"

"(Y/n)," she corrected without thinking, then blushed again. "And yes, I'm particularly fond of the Romantics."

"Ah!" His entire face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "Then we must discuss Byron. 'The Dream' has been much in my thoughts lately." He began to recite softly:

"'Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,

A boundary between the things misnamed

Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world...'"

His voice seemed to caress each word, giving them new meaning. (Y/n) found herself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by his presence, his passion for the poetry she loved.

Her father cleared his throat, but she noticed his expression had softened. It had been weeks since he'd seen her truly engaged with anyone, she realized. Not since the excitement of planning Bertha's visit...

The thought of Bertha should have brought fresh pain, but somehow it felt distant, unimportant compared to the magnetic presence of their guest.

"Perhaps," her father said carefully, "you might show our guest the library after tea? I understand you share a love of literature."

Tea had been a strangely intimate affair, their guest, displaying impeccable manners while barely touching his cup. Now, as (Y/n) led him through the manor's winding corridors toward the library, she found herself acutely aware of his presence behind her, the way the air seemed to change when he moved.

The library had always been her sanctuary, its floor-to-ceiling shelves creating the impression of a forest made of books. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows, catching dust motes that danced like golden snow in the air. She turned to gauge his reaction and found him already watching her, that same knowing smile playing at his lips.

"Your home is remarkable," he said, moving past her to trail his fingers along the spines of nearby books. "These volumes... quite a collection. Your father's?"

"Many were my mother's," (Y/n) replied, watching as he pulled out a volume of Byron. "She had quite passionate opinions about literature."

"Had?" He glanced up, those dark eyes suddenly intent.

"She passed when I was seven."

"Ah." Something flickered across his face - understanding? Recognition? "My condolences. Though I suspect she left you her love of poetry?"

(Y/n) moved closer, drawn by the way his fingers caressed the book's leather binding. "You quoted Byron earlier - 'The Dream.'"

"Yes." He turned toward her fully then, and she realized how close they'd gotten. His voice dropped lower, intimate. "You must call me Jimin. Somehow 'Park' feels... inadequate. Too formal for what I sense between us."

The way he said it - as if they shared some profound secret - made her breath catch. That nagging familiarity surged again, stronger than ever.

"Have we..." she started, then hesitated. "This may sound strange, but I feel as though..."

"As though we've met before?" His smile held something dangerous now, thrilling. "Perhaps in dreams?"

The word triggered something - a memory trying to surface - but before she could grasp it, he was moving again, graceful as a cat, pulling another book from the shelves.

"Ah, Coleridge. Another poet fascinated by dreams and the boundaries between worlds." He began to read, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality.

The library had grown darker around them, the sunset painting the sky beyond the windows in shades of blood and gold. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken things. His closeness should have made her uncomfortable, yet somehow it felt... inevitable.

"I hardly slept last night," (Y/n) found herself confessing, her voice barely above a whisper. "There was something... strange."

Jimin's expression shifted subtly, a flash of intense interest quickly masked. "Strange how?"

"I thought..." she hesitated, aware of how foolish it might sound. "I woke in the night - or perhaps I was still dreaming - and there was a figure, standing at the foot of my bed. Just... watching me."

His fingers, still lingering near her face, stilled completely. "And this frightened you?"

"No," she realized, surprised by her own answer. "It should have, shouldn't it? A stranger in my room. But it felt... familiar somehow. Like a half-remembered lullaby."

The last rays of sunlight caught in his dark eyes, making them appear almost burgundy. "Dreams have their own truth," he said softly. "Sometimes truer than what we think we know when awake."

Something in his tone made her shiver, though not unpleasantly. She found herself studying his face in the fading light, trying to catch that elusive sense of recognition that kept dancing just beyond her grasp. "Do you dream, Jimin?"

His smile held secrets. "Oh yes. Though sometimes I find it hard to distinguish between dreams and memories. Don't you find them remarkably similar? Both grow hazy around the edges, both feel real while we're in them..." He shifted slightly closer. "Both can haunt us long after we think we've forgotten them."

The library had grown so dark that his face was now mostly shadow, yet his eyes seemed to catch what little light remained. (Y/n) was acutely aware of how improper their situation had become - alone in the growing dark, sitting far too close. Yet she couldn't bring herself to move away.

"Tell me about your life here," he said suddenly, his voice gentle. "This beautiful cage of yours."

She started at his choice of words - so similar to her own thoughts. "How did you-?"

"I recognize the look," he interrupted softly. "The way you watch the road from your windows. The hunger in your eyes when you speak of your friend... Bertha, was it?"

The name should have brought fresh pain, but somehow it felt distant, unimportant in the face of his overwhelming presence. "Yes, she was... she was to visit. Before..."

"Before fate intervened," he finished for her. "Perhaps it was meant to be this way. Perhaps I was meant to find you instead."

The presumption of such a statement should have shocked her, yet she found herself nodding. "I've never been able to talk to anyone like this," she admitted. "Even Bertha... there were always proper things to say, proper ways to be. This feels..."

"Different," he supplied. "Real. As if we've known each other forever." His cool fingers found hers in the darkness. "As if we've met before."

That nagging sense of familiarity surged again, stronger than ever. There was something about his face in the shadows, something about the way he looked at her...

The sound of footsteps in the corridor broke the spell. They moved apart just as Madame Perrodon appeared in the doorway, carrying a lamp that made them both blink at its sudden brightness.

"Mademoiselle, it's nearly time to dress for dinner." Her tone held a gentle reproof. "And the lamps should have been lit an hour ago. It's not good for your eyes, reading in such dim light."

(Y/n) stood, suddenly aware of how long they'd been secluded together, how improper it must seem. But when she glanced at Jimin, he appeared perfectly composed, as if they'd been discussing nothing more intimate than the weather.

"My fault entirely, Madame," he said, rising with fluid grace. "I'm afraid I quite lost track of time, enchanted by your charge's conversation."

Something in the way he said it - so perfectly proper yet somehow suggesting deeper meanings - made (Y/n)'s cheeks flush. Madame Perrodon's expression suggested she caught the undertone as well, though she said nothing.

"Will you join us for dinner?" (Y/n) asked, not ready for their conversation to end.

A shadow seemed to pass over his face. "I fear I'm still somewhat fatigued from yesterday's... excitement. Perhaps tomorrow? The daylight hours particularly tax my strength."

"Of course," she said quickly, concerned. "You must rest."

He caught her hand as she passed, his touch cool and electric. "Dream of me," he whispered, too soft for Madame Perrodon to hear.

Something about the way he said it - half playful, half command - sent another shiver down her spine. As if she could dream of anything else.

Dinner that evening felt like a strange performance where (Y/n) couldn't quite remember her lines. The familiar rhythms of the household - the clink of silver against fine china, the measured steps of servants, her father's occasional comments about estate matters - seemed to come from very far away. Her thoughts kept drifting upstairs, to the blue room where Jimin now rested.

"(Y/n)?" Her father's voice broke through her reverie. "You've been pushing the same pea around your plate for ten minutes."

"I'm sorry, Papa." She forced herself to take a bite, though the food held little interest. "I suppose I'm a bit tired."

Her father studied her over his wine glass, his expression thoughtful. "Our guest seems... interesting. You spent quite some time in the library today."

Something in his tone made her glance up sharply, but his face held only mild curiosity. If anything, he looked pleased - the first time she'd seen such an expression since Bertha's letter arrived.

"He's very well-read," she offered carefully. "We discussed poetry, and..."

"And?" her father prompted when she trailed off, remembering the intensity of Jimin's gaze in the falling darkness.

"He understands things," she found herself saying. "About feeling... isolated. Different." The words came out before she could stop them, more honest than she'd meant to be.

Her father's face softened. "I know these past years have been lonely for you, my dear. Perhaps it's providence that brought him to us, especially after..." He didn't need to finish the sentence. Bertha's death hung between them, an invisible weight.

"Yes," (Y/n) whispered, though something about suggesting providence in connection with Jimin felt strange, almost blasphemous.

"Still," Madame Perrodon interjected from her place at the table, "proper chaperoning must be maintained. A young man, however well-bred..."

"Of course, of course," her father waved off the concern. "But surely some companionship would do (Y/n) good. And he seems a perfect gentleman."

Perfect. The word echoed in (Y/n)'s mind. He was perfect - too perfect, perhaps. Like a painting of a person rather than a person themselves. Even now, she found she couldn't quite recall the exact details of his face, though she'd spent hours studying it. It was as if his features shifted slightly in her memory, like reflections in moving water.

"Mademoiselle?" One of the maids - Anne - was at her elbow. "You've gone quite pale. Are you unwell?"

"Just tired," (Y/n) repeated, though tired wasn't quite the right word. She felt... anticipated, as if she were waiting for something to begin. "Perhaps I should retire early."

"A wise choice," Madame Perrodon said, rising to accompany her.

As they climbed the grand staircase, (Y/n) found her eyes drawn to the blue room's door. No light showed beneath it, but she had the strangest feeling that behind that heavy oak panel, in the darkness, Jimin was awake. Waiting. Thinking of her as she thought of him.

"Sweet dreams, my dear," Madame Perrodon said as they reached (Y/n)'s room. Something in her tone suggested she'd noticed the lingering glance at the blue room's door.

Alone in her room, (Y/n) moved to her window. The night was clear, stars scattered across the sky like diamond dust. Somewhere in the gardens, a nightingale began to sing. The sound made her think of Jimin's voice, the hypnotic way he'd spoken of dreams and memories.

Her reflection in the window glass looked strange to her - pale, eyes too bright, as if she were already half in a dream. Behind her, shadows gathered in the corners of her room, and she could have sworn they moved like living things...

That night, sleep came to (Y/n) like a creeping tide. The moon hung full and low outside her window, casting strange shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. In that liminal space between waking and dreaming, time began to slip and stretch like pulled taffy.

She first became aware of her paralysis when she tried to turn away from the moonlight. Her limbs felt leaden, refusing to obey even the simplest commands. The air in her room grew thick, heavy with an invisible presence that seemed to press down upon her chest.

Then came the smell - that peculiar sweetness she'd noticed about Jimin, like roses on the edge of decay mixed with something older, something that reminded her of ancient books and midnight gardens. Instead of frightening her, the scent brought an odd comfort, making her mind drift deeper into that strange half-conscious state.

The mattress dipped beside her, as if someone had sat down with infinite care. Cool fingers seemed to brush her cheek, trail down her neck with exquisite tenderness. She should have been terrified - would have been, in any other circumstance. But there was something achingly familiar about the touch, about the presence that filled her room like smoke.

A weight settled over her, not crushing but encompassing, as if she were being embraced by the night itself. That sweet, strange scent grew stronger, and with it came a sensation of being cherished, desired, consumed - all at once. The moonlight caught something moving above her - a face perhaps, beautiful and terrible in equal measure - but before she could focus on its features, consciousness began to slip away entirely.

The last thing she felt was a sharp, sweet pain just above her breast - two points of exquisite sensation that sent waves of pleasure-pain through her increasingly distant body. A voice might have whispered something, ancient words in a language she didn't know but somehow understood, but by then she was falling into deeper dreams...

Morning came with strange heaviness. (Y/n) woke feeling as though she'd been drugged, her limbs weighted with an unfamiliar lethargy. Sunlight streamed through her windows, yet she felt none of its warmth. There was a peculiar sensation in her breast - not quite pain, but a presence, as if someone had pressed their hand there and the pressure lingered, though nothing showed.

"Mademoiselle?" Madame Perrodon's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are you unwell? It's past nine..."

"Just tired," (Y/n) managed, though 'tired' wasn't the right word. She felt simultaneously drained and oddly euphoric, as if she were floating just slightly above herself.

The morning passed in a dream-like haze. She found herself drifting off during breakfast, her father's voice fading in and out like a poorly tuned piano. The tea tasted strange in her mouth, the toast turning to ash on her tongue.

"Perhaps you should rest today," her father suggested, watching her with concern. "You're quite pale."

But the thought of returning to bed held no appeal. Instead, she found herself drawn to the upper corridor, to the blue room where their guest presumably still slept. The door, she noticed, was firmly locked - Mrs. Klaus's knocking going unanswered as she attempted to deliver tea.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Jimin finally emerged. (Y/n) had taken refuge in the library, attempting to read but finding the words swimming before her eyes. His entrance was silent - she looked up to find him simply there, watching her with those dark, knowing eyes.

"You look tired," he said softly, settling into the chair opposite hers. In the fading daylight, his own face held a similar languor, as if he too were recovering from some midnight exertion.

"Strange dreams," she found herself saying, though she couldn't quite remember them. Just impressions remained - a weight on her chest, cool fingers against her skin, a presence both terrifying and beloved.

Something flickered in his eyes - interest? Recognition? But he only smiled that secretive smile and began speaking of other things. As darkness fell, his lethargy seemed to lift. By evening, he was almost vibrant, his movements acquiring that fluid grace she remembered from their first meeting.

That week settled into a strange pattern. Each morning, (Y/n) woke feeling increasingly drained, yet somehow lighter, as if she were slowly becoming less substantial. Jimin's door remained locked until late afternoon, no amount of knocking drawing response. Their conversations, when he finally appeared, grew more intimate, more intense.

"Tell me about your dreams," he would say, his voice holding that hypnotic quality that made her want to confess everything. But the dreams remained elusive - just fragments of sensation, of presence, of a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

News came, carried by Marcel who'd been to the village, that Catherine - the milliner's daughter - had taken ill with some mysterious malady. "Weak as a kitten," the gardener reported, "and her sister Marie looking hardly better."

The information stirred something in (Y/n)'s mind - a half-formed connection she couldn't quite grasp. But then Jimin would appear, beautiful in the gathering darkness, and all other thoughts would fade away.

Their early days together fell into a strange rhythm. Though Jimin never appeared before late afternoon, the house seemed to hold its breath waiting for him. (Y/n) found herself drawn to the library as the sun began its westward descent, knowing he would eventually materialize in the doorway like a figure stepping out of a dream.

On this particular afternoon, autumn rain drummed against the windows, creating a cocoon of grey light and shadow. (Y/n) sat in her usual window seat, a book open but unread in her lap, when she felt rather than heard his approach.

"You're watching for me now," he observed, his voice holding that mixture of amusement and satisfaction that made her cheeks warm. "Do I make such entertaining company?"

"You make interesting company," she corrected, marking how the rain-light seemed to make his skin almost luminous. "Though you never speak of yourself."

He settled beside her with that fluid grace she'd come to expect. "What would you know? My histories are long and dark - hardly suitable conversation for a young lady."

Before she could press further, voices in the entrance hall drew their attention. Through the library's open door came the sound of her father greeting someone - a man's voice, educated but unfamiliar, speaking with urgent authority.

"The deaths in the neighboring village..." the voice was saying. "Most concerning patterns... Similar to cases I've studied..."

(Y/n) felt Jimin tense beside her, though his face remained perfectly composed. Something shifted in the air between them, like the pressure change before a storm.

Their visitor proved to be Father Laurent, a scholar-priest from the nearby monastery. He carried himself with the confident air of a man used to being heard, his dark robes still beaded with rain. But it was the wooden box he carried that drew (Y/n)'s attention - ornately carved with symbols she didn't recognize.

"My dear," her father gestured her forward as she and Jimin entered the drawing room. "Father Laurent has brought something he thinks might interest you. Given your recent... fatigue."

The priest's eyes moved between her and Jimin, something knowing in his gaze that made her uncomfortable. "Yes, indeed. Though I see you have a guest...?"

"Park Jimin," her father supplied. "A temporary addition to our household after an accident on the road."

"Most fortunate," Father Laurent murmured, though his tone suggested he thought it anything but. His attention returned to (Y/n). "My child, I've brought something that might help with your... affliction."

From the wooden box, he withdrew a necklace - a simple leather cord from which hung a small silver charm. The metal caught the grey light strangely, seeming to hold it rather than reflect it.

"An old blessing," the priest explained, moving to place it around her neck. "For protection against... night terrors."

(Y/n) was acutely aware of Jimin's presence behind her, the way the air seemed to crackle with some unnamed tension. As Father Laurent's fingers brushed her neck, securing the charm, she heard the softest intake of breath from Jimin - something between a hiss and a sigh.

"How kind," Jimin's voice was perfectly modulated, yet somehow held an edge she'd never heard before. "Though surely a young lady has no need for such... medieval trinkets?"

In the days following Father Laurent's visit, the charm around (Y/n)'s neck grew to feel like both comfort and burden. Though she often caught Jimin eyeing it with something like distaste, he never mentioned it directly. Instead, his attempts to occupy her attention seemed to grow more focused, more intense.

One particularly languid afternoon, she found herself drawn to the blue room. The door, usually so firmly locked, stood slightly ajar - an invitation she couldn't resist. Inside, Jimin lay across the bed fully dressed, one arm thrown elegantly across his eyes.

"I wondered when you'd come," he said without moving, as if he'd been waiting for her. "The sun is so harsh today. Draw the curtains?"

She did, watching how the heavy blue velvet transformed the room into a twilight world. When she turned back, he had shifted to make space beside him on the counterpane.

"Come," he said softly. "Lie beside me. Like we used to."

The words struck her oddly - they'd never done this before - but she found herself moving forward anyway. It wasn't proper, she knew, to be here without Madame Perrodon's supervision, but Jimin had a way of making improper things seem natural, inevitable.

"Why do you always lock your door?" she found herself asking as she carefully settled beside him, the question that had burned in her mind finally finding voice.

His smile widened slightly, though his arm remained over his eyes. "Do I? Perhaps I sleepwalk. Perhaps I have secrets I must keep." His free hand found hers, fingers intertwining with that unnatural coolness she'd grown used to. "Perhaps I'm afraid of what might come visiting in the night."

"You mock me," she said, though without heat.

"Never." He turned then, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. The dim light caught in his dark eyes, making them appear almost burgundy. "I would never mock your curiosity. It's one of the things I find most..." he paused, seeming to taste the word before speaking it, "...delicious about you."

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine, though not entirely unpleasant ones. They lay in silence for a moment, his cool fingers tracing abstract patterns on her palm.

"Tell me a story," he said finally. "Something from your childhood. A memory you hold dear."

She thought for a moment, and then, "I had the strangest dream once, when I was very young - perhaps six or seven. Though sometimes I wonder if it was a dream at all..."

His hand stilled in hers. "Tell me."

"I woke in the night - or thought I did. There was a figure standing by my bed, the most beautiful being I'd ever seen." As she spoke, the memory became clearer, details she'd forgotten surfacing like bodies in dark water. "They knelt beside me, stroked my hair. I felt... loved. Cherished. But also..."

"Also?" His voice had taken on an odd quality, intense yet somehow distant.

"Afraid. Not of them, exactly, but of how much I wanted them to stay. They spoke to me, though I couldn't understand the words. And then..." She touched her breast unconsciously, just below where the charm now lay. "There was a sensation, like being pierced by ice and fire at once. I screamed..."

"And the servants came running," Jimin said softly. "With candles and concerns. But found nothing amiss, save a very frightened little girl."

(Y/n) sat up slightly, looking at him with surprise. "How did you know?"

His smile was dreamy, distant. "Because I had the same dream at that age, watching over you, caressing you. Strange, isn't it? How some souls are destined to meet, how some moments echo across time until they find their mirror?" His cool fingers brushed her cheek. "Perhaps that's why I feel as though I've known you forever."

The charm at her throat seemed to pulse with sudden warmth, but she found herself leaning into his touch despite it. Something about his words rang both true and false, like a bell with a hidden crack.

"How strange," she murmured, settling back against the pillows. "That we should share such a similar dream."

"Perhaps not strange at all," Jimin replied softly. His fingers had moved to trace the line of her jaw, touch whisper-light but somehow burning cold. "Some meetings are written in the stars, dear one. Some souls call to each other across time itself."

The room had grown darker, though she couldn't remember the sun setting. In this half-light, Jimin's beauty took on an almost painful quality - too perfect to be quite real, like a painting that moved and breathed. His dark eyes seemed to drink in her face with an intensity that should have frightened her.

"You're trembling," he observed, his cool hand sliding down to rest over her heart. "Are you afraid?"

"No," she whispered, though her pulse raced beneath his palm. "I should be, shouldn't I? Everything about this is..." She gestured vaguely at their position, at the impropriety of lying together in the growing dark.

"Everything about this is exactly as it should be." His face was very close now, his sweet, strange scent making her head spin. "You're mine, (Y/n). You've always been mine, since that dream, since before that dream. Can't you feel it?"

The charm at her throat seemed to burn, but she couldn't focus on its warning. Not with Jimin's cool fingers trailing down her neck, not with the weight of his gaze holding her like a butterfly pinned to velvet.

"Mine," he murmured again, the word carrying a weight that made her shiver. His fingers traced patterns on her skin that felt like ancient writing, like secrets too old for human understanding. "My sweet, innocent girl."

The endearment should have felt patronizing, but instead it made her feel precious, cherished. His touch remained gentle, yet there was something possessive in it that stirred feelings she had no names for. The charm at her throat felt like it was burning now, but she couldn't bring herself to move away.

"I don't understand," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What is this? What are we to each other?"

His smile in the darkness was beautiful and terrible. "Everything," he breathed, leaning closer until his lips nearly brushed her ear. "We are everything to each other. Past, present, future - all flowing together like rivers to the sea."

The poetic words made her head spin, or perhaps it was his proximity, the sweet-strange scent of him overwhelming her senses. His cool fingers had found their way into her hair, loosening pins until soft strands fell around her shoulders.

"Beautiful," he murmured, watching the way her hair spilled across the blue silk of the counterpane. "Like night itself made tangible." His thumb brushed her bottom lip, the touch so intimate it made her gasp. "So innocent, so pure. Do you know what you do to me, dear?"

She shook her head, unable to form words. Her whole world had narrowed to his touch, his voice, the way his dark eyes seemed to glow in the gathering shadows. This was improper - beyond improper - but propriety seemed a distant concern, as unreal as the world beyond this room.

"Everything about you calls to me," he continued, his voice taking on that hypnotic quality that made her feel as though she were drowning in honey. "Your innocence, your trust, your..." he pressed his hand against her rapidly beating heart, "...life.

The room had grown darker as they lay together, the heavy blue curtains transforming late afternoon into premature dusk. (Y/n) knew she should leave - everything about this situation defied propriety - yet she found herself sinking deeper into the feather mattress, hyperaware of Jimin's cool presence beside her.

His fingers continued their delicate exploration of her palm, each touch sending little shivers up her arm. The simple contact shouldn't have felt so intimate, yet something about the deliberate way he traced each line made her breath catch.

"Your hands are always so cold," she murmured, watching his pale fingers contrast against her skin.

"And yours so warm," he responded, bringing her wrist to his lips in a gesture that walked the line between courtly and something else entirely. His breath ghosted across her pulse point, making her shiver. "Like you've captured sunlight beneath your skin."

She should pull away. A proper young lady would never allow such liberties. But Jimin had a way of making improper things seem natural, inevitable. When he tugged her closer, she found herself yielding, turning to face him on the blue silk counterpane.

"Sometimes," he said softly, his free hand moving to brush a strand of hair from her face, "I wonder if you know how extraordinary you are." His touch lingered at her temple, traced the curve of her cheek with exquisite slowness. "How rare it is to find someone who sees the world as you do, who understands..."

"Understands what?" she whispered, lost in the darkness of his eyes. The room seemed to be growing dimmer still, shadows gathering in the corners like conspirators.

Instead of answering, he let his fingers trail down her neck, each touch precise and deliberate. The charm at her throat seemed to pulse with warning heat, but she could focus only on the delicious contrast of his cool skin against her flushed warmth.

"Your heart is racing," he observed, his hand settling over the rapid beat. "Are you frightened of me, dear?"

"No," she answered truthfully. She should be - everything about this situation should terrify her. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch like a flower seeking shade. "Though perhaps I should be."

His smile in the gathering dark was both beautiful and strange. "Wise girl." His fingers had found their way into her hair, carefully removing the last of the pins setting loose luscious waves that spilled across the pillows. "Though I prefer your trust to your wisdom."

The impropriety of her loosened hair struck her suddenly - this was something only a lady's maid or husband should see. Yet when Jimin's fingers carded through the strands, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, propriety seemed a distant concern.

"Like silk," he murmured, watching the way her hair caught what little light remained. His touch became more possessive, one hand tangling in the strands while the other traced patterns on her neck that felt like ancient writing. "Everything about you is so..."

He didn't finish the thought. Instead, he shifted closer, until she could feel the strange coolness that always emanated from him along her entire body. His face lowered to her neck, just beside the charm, and she felt rather than heard him inhale deeply.

"Jimin," she breathed, hardly recognizing her own voice. It came out halfway between protest and plea.

"Say it again," he demanded softly, his lips now brushing her throat with each word. "I love how my name sounds on your lips."

"Jimin," she whispered again, the name falling from her lips like a prayer. His mouth pressed against her pulse point in response, a kiss that felt more like worship.

The room spun slowly around them, or perhaps it was just her head spinning. Everything felt dreamlike - the deepening shadows, the cool press of his body against hers, the way his fingers traced arcane patterns down her arms. She was dimly aware that she should maintain some semblance of propriety, but propriety seemed to belong to another world entirely.

His hand at her waist pulled her closer still, grip possessive yet somehow reverent. "Do you know," he murmured against her skin, "how long I've waited for this? For you?"

The words made little sense, yet sent shivers down her spine nonetheless. His lips traveled up her neck with exquisite slowness, each kiss a point of delicious cold that made her gasp. When his teeth grazed her earlobe, she found herself clutching at his shoulders, unsure if she meant to push him away or draw him closer.

"My innocent girl," he breathed, his free hand now trailing down her side, following the curve of her waist. "So responsive to every touch." As if to demonstrate, his fingers splayed across her ribcage, thumb brushing just beneath her breast. Even through layers of clothing, the touch felt scandalously intimate.

She should stop this. Should remember her position, her reputation, all the careful lessons in propriety that Madame Perrodon had instilled. Instead, she found herself arching slightly into his touch, craving more of that wonderful chill.

"That's it," he encouraged softly, his nose trailing along her jaw. "Trust me. Let me..." His hand slipped higher, and she felt rather than heard his satisfaction when she gasped. "Perfect. You're perfect."

The charm at her throat burned in earnest now, but she barely noticed. Not when Jimin's mouth was leaving a trail of frost down her neck, not when his hands were teaching her body sensations she'd never imagined. Everything felt heightened, dreamlike - the silk beneath her, the weight of him beside her, the sweet-strange scent that always surrounded him now filling her lungs like incense.

His touches grew bolder, more demanding. One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to expose more of her throat while the other...

Footsteps in the corridor snapped through their private world like breaking glass. Voices approached - servants doing their evening rounds, discussing dinner preparations with comfortable familiarity.

Reality crashed back with stunning force. (Y/n) jerked away, suddenly aware of her state - hair loose and wild around her shoulders, dress rumpled, lips surely swollen from his attention. What had she been thinking? What had she allowed?

"I should..." she stumbled to her feet, face burning with shame and lingering desire. "I need to..."

"Go," Jimin said softly, still lounging on the bed with casual grace, as if nothing untoward had happened. But his eyes burned in the darkness, and his smile held something that made her shiver anew. "Dream of me."

She fled the room just as the servants' voices passed by, straightening her dress with trembling fingers. Behind her, she heard the distinctive click of his door locking once again.

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔴𝔬