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casuallyimagining · 6 months

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Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

But who’s counting?

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

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

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…”

I want to apologize.

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he wanted you gone.

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

“Wh-”

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

Kinder for whom?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you still be there if I had?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least they’d had each other during it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s really cool.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I would like to see you again. Someday.

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

The other is from the day he turned 25.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope I see you again.

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

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

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said-”

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

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

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

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

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

“How long are you here for?”

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

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

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

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

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

“I get it.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi groans.

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

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

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

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

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

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

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

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

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

“I will. I promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dangerous,” you joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs. “What rules?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

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

“Yoongi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

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

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

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

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least, you think you are.

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re still holding his hand.

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

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

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

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

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

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

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

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

Oh.

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #set me free

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daechwitatamic · 5 months

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Of Ruin || KTH || Masterpost

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: Of Ruin

Status: complete - all chapters now posted

WC: 85k total, 16 chapters

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

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

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

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

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

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

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

Series Teaser:

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

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

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

“Taehyung,” you whisper, eyelids fluttering.

Chapter 1 || wc: 5.7k

Chapter 2 || wc: 5.9k

Chapter 3 || wc: 5.1k

Chapter 4 || wc: 5.5k

Chapter 5 || wc: 4.6

Chapter 6 || wc: 6k

Chapter 7 || wc: 5k

Chapter 8 || wc: 4.8k

Chapter 9 || wc: 4.3k

Chapter 10 || wc: 5.2k

Chapter 11 || wc: 4.7k

Chapter 12 || wc: 4.8k

Chapter 13 || wc: 6k

Chapter 14 || wc: 6.3k

Chapter 15 || wc: 5k

Chapter 16 || wc: 5.1k

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kookslastbutton · 10 months

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Cryptic Veil ༓ jjk (m) | Series Masterlist

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

Pairing: vampire king!jungkook x villager fem!reader

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

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: tbd

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

Release date: October 27

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

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

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

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

༓ ch. III — "A hunger we keep inside"

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

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

Masterlist

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

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts au #bts angst #bts supernatural au #fic:crypticveil #kookslastbutton

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interesting-interludes · 10 months

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the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

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

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

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

→ word count: 4.8k

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

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

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

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you know why.

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

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

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

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

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

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

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

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

Simple as that.

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

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

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

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

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

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

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

Your stomach churns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

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

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

But how could you know that now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

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

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

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

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

Jin notices the signs immediately.

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

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

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

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

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

“Go ahead, let it out,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

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

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

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod slightly.

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

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

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that okay?” he asks.

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another breath releases from your lungs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know there are worse scars behind you.

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

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

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

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

A gentle knock on the door.

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

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

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

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

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

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

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

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

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

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin enters your field of vision again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

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

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

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

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chimcess · 3 months

Text

Afterglow || jhs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok laughed, “Hey there, Sunshine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you so much,” I cried out.

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

“I missed you more,” He replied huskily.

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” I whined. “More.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I whimpered, “Baby, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I laughed, heart full now that he was here.

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

“Well, it will not require clothing.”

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

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

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

As long as he was here, nothing else mattered.

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purpleyoonn · 10 months

Text

enchanted 2

C H A P T E R T W O

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

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

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au,

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ongoing (random updates)

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

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

beta'd/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias

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playlist

masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 3

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Previously on Enchanted:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mate.”

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

A servant belonged on the floor, below everyone else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were the Dragon King’s soulmate.

You, a measly human servant girl!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or, you could call him Yoongles.” The person he gestured earlier speaks up, an amused lilt to his voice as he speaks to you. “Or kitty. He looks like a cat if you look at him long enough.”

“He also likes to be called ho—” The man was cut off by a pastry hitting his face, right in the cheek.

You covered your mouth at the scene, your mouth open wide as the man turns and glares at the Ki—Yoongi. Yoongi was looking right back at the man, a smirk on his lips.

“Why must you through a pastry at my face? I was only telling her the truth.”

“Why must you tell my mate these ridiculous stories, Jin?” Yoongi countered. The man, who you now know is named Jin, only gasped.

“Ridiculous stories?! I’ll have you know—” Yoongi ignored him, leaning towards you.

“This is my advisor—”

“And bestest friend in the entire world!”

“And one of my close friends, Kim Seokjin, but I call him Jin.” You turn to Jin, giving him a shy smile as you introduce yourself.

“Of course. I think the entire castle has heard about you by now. The whispers are not as quiet as they wish to be.” Jin told you, making you freeze. You did not know how long you had been out cold, but you didn’t think the entire castle would have known about your presence. It made you nervous to be on everyone’s radar. This usually meant you had done something wrong at Lord Ahn’s manor, which was never a good thing.

Maybe you underestimated the workers within the castle. You knew that secrets were never secrets with the servants. You were a servant yourself.

“But do not worry about them. Everyone wishes to get to know the little human who was able to finally gain our little King’s affection. He has been waiting for you for a long time.” Jin waved his hand at you, trying to dispel your worries. He could feel your emotions radiating off you, could see how truly nervous you were despite Yoongi doing his best to push his pheromones out to comfort you.

Your aura was a dark green and swirling blue. Jin could see your deep connection to the earth and the sadness swelling within. He could see how hard and traumatic your life has been, the blue almost matching the King’s.

Jin had a gift that gave him an advantage over the other dragons from his hoard. He could see the auras of the soul. His father had shared the same gift, making him a special advisor to the late King Geumjae. A job that now resided with him. He was the left hand to the king, especially important when trying to decipher friend from foe.

“A long time indeed.” The other man spoke up from besides you. His features were soft, but you could tell they would cut you in an instant. He had been watching you, observing you the entire time. He felt oddly familiar with you, as if he had seen you somewhere before.

Jimin didn’t feel anything bad from you, his sixth sense had never been wrong before. He could tell you were as innocent as you seemed, but he knew he should keep an eye on you. If his suspicions were correct, you would need it.

“My name is Jimin, and I am Yoongi’s younger, adopted brother.” Jimin smiled at you, holding his hand out to shake your hand. You did so, gaining a large smile from Jimin, his eyes creasing closed as he did so, and from Yoongi, watching the interaction of the two most important people to him.

Jimin had grown up in the Witches realm, but during one of the initial attacks on the Min Kingdom, he had been found under the rubble of one of the towers, blown to pieces and stacked on top of the little boy. Min Geumjae, the Dragon King and Yoongi’s father, had found him after hearing the cries of the dying boy. He saved him and adopted him to be raised as Yoongi’s younger brother.

“It is very nice to meet you Jimin.” You smile back at him, loving the energy you feel coming from the man. He seemed very polite and nice, something you weren’t expecting.

“Has our lovely King taken you to the gardens yet?” Jimin asked you after a couple seconds, giving you time to eat some of the fruit Yoongi had put on your plate. His tone was sarcastic but his eyes held sincerity. They all could see how much you needed the nutrients and to have the sun on you, the vitamin much needed given the pallor to your skin.

When Yoongi had first changed your clothes, not allowing anyone else to come near you in your state, he had become enraged, thrashing the east wing office in his fit. You were practically skin and bones, and he had found more bruises on you than just the ones visible ones on your arm and legs.

It had taken both Jin and Jimin, along with Namjoon and one of the personal guards, Jungkook, to hold the King down so that Jimin and Hoseok, the chef, could calm him down. Taehyung, the royal florist, being called in from Jungkook. The six men had to sit with him and talk him down. They were his closest friends and were the only people Yoongi would allow near him in such a state.

“No, he has not. I had just woken up only moments before being brought down here.” You replied back, leaving out the fact that Yoongi’s mother figure had practically demanded your presence at breakfast.

“Well, I think a stroll in the gardens is in order after breakfast. You should really see all the wonderful colors Taehyung has brought into the courtyard.” Jimin looked at Yoongi, nodding his head the slightest bit, making sure he would take his mate outside.

They wanted you to know you were not a prisoner. This was your home now. Plus, Jimin had the feeling that his mate would be able to help you open up, even the tiniest bit. Taehyung seemed to have a way with people that even he would never be able to understand.

Plus, they all noticed the way your eyes light up at the mention of the gardens, Jimin knew that his brother would now be spending most of his time within the outer walls, picking flowers for his lovely mate.

“That would be wonderful, if it is okay with you?” You turn your head to Yoongi at the end, hoping and praying to the gods that your soulmate would let you out into the gardens. It had been a long time since you were surrounded by flowers, and you had sorely missed blending in with all the colors.

“Of course, my Queen.” The tilt of his head had your heart fluttering.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi’s own heart fluttered at the way your doe eyes shined with hope at his words. He would give you the world as long as you continued to look at him like this.

He would do anything for his Queen.

-*-*-

Yoongi knew he was in love with you at first sight.

The way you tried with all your might to free yourself from underneath the column on top of you, the raw emotions flowing from your skin as you cried in anguish, not thinking of quitting in the slightest. You were incredibly strong, a warrior in your own right.

Yoongi fell for you again as he watched the amazement and wonder cross your features once the doors to the garden were opened. He watched as your mouth subconsciously turned into a smile; eyes alit as you reached for one of the wildflowers that was encroaching on one of the fences at the start of one of the paths through the garden.

It was as if you had never seen such beauty before. Yoongi wasn’t sure what sort of expression he was making, watching every emotion you were feeling flutter across your face, rather like an open book. He imagined the goofy grin Jin would tease him about was out in full force, wide across his face.

You continued to surprise him at every turn. He had thought you would be terrified of him, by what he was. He almost expected you to be trying to get away from him, looking for an escape while calling him all sorts of nasty names any time he came near. His experience with humans had given him such expectations. Even his high status as the ruler of this kingdom did not exempt him from the fear and contempt the other dragons faced from humans. He was blown away by the way you seemed to move closer to him instead of using this opportunity to scale the garden wall. For all the good it would do you.

It seemed like you gravitated towards each other. When he moved, you moved. When you reached out for a flower with particular thorns, he moved, as if to try and shield you from the pain he knew would come. But it never did. You were familiar with the flowers, another thing he was happy to learn.

Yoongi wanted to know everything he could about you. He wanted even the tiniest of details of who you were at your core.

He wanted to know your favorite color, what time of day was your favorite to gaze up at the sky. He wished to know what made you smile, what would make you laugh uproariously, holding your belly as you tried to contain the joy that would spill forth.

He watched how you practically floated down the path that led to the large fountain, reaching out and caressing the petals of each flower you saw. He listened as you listed off every detail you could remember about each flower, even flowers that weren’t in the garden.

He learned that the chef, Hoseok, could be using the Tulip bulbs as a substitute for onions within the castle’s recipes. The lotus flower, a symbol of life and resurrection, can stay dormant for years and then rise again with the return of water. Sunflowers can be used to find direction, as the flowers themselves seemed to respond to the movement of the sun, from east to west.

He also learned that you had a love for lavender and sunflowers. You always seemed to return back to the two plants, happiness and nostalgia turning your scent into a sweet honey, making his mouth water and his lips turn up into a smile. He wasn’t entirely sure that he knew what a sunflower was, but it sounded like something he should speak to Taehyung about.

However, your wonder dialed up once you caught sight of the large fountain his father had erected for his mother before he was born. It was one of his courting gifts, one that had his mother accepting the courting and led to their mating.

You didn’t know that, though. You were caught up in the image created within the marble. A large dragon in a protective stance over a small female, tail curled in front of her as if warning away all who would dare harm her. A wild grass filled with flowers sat upon the floor, a path created by the marbled flowers that the water from the fountain sprouted from. The other waterfall came from the dragon’s open mouth, a more powerful run as the water fell.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Yoongi seemed to catch you off guard; you had completely forgotten that the dragon was with you.

“It is.” You responded back in awe. “I wish I could stay here forever.” You turn around in a slow circle, looking at your surroundings and moving slower until you stood back in front of Yoongi.

“I would never keep you locked in my chambers.” Yoongi could hear the wishful tone in your words. He could also smell the nerves tampering with your sweet honey.

Yoongi moved closer until he was only inches away from you, his hands moving to hold yours, bringing them up to his lips so he could plant soft kisses on your knuckles.

“I have been waiting years for you. I have had dreams of you for as long as I could remember, your laughter caught in my head, keeping me alive even when I might have wished otherwise. You will never be hidden from the world. You are my treasure, and I will treat you as such.” You looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears as your soulmate seemed to read every thought and fear you had of your union.

Of the minimal things you had heard of dragon mates, none of them were very kind. You feared that you would be kept in his hoard, never allowed to leave. It seemed that your previous teachings were wrong, and it had you wondering what being a dragon’s mate entailed, the courting rituals, and what the future would look like if you accepted.

“You are the Queen of my realm, and you will have full access to everything your heart desires. As long as you are happy, my heart and dragon will be satisfied.” His words have you turning your hands to grip his own.

“What if you are the cause of my happiness?” Your lips turn up, gazing into his eyes as he seems shocked. “Will you be satisfied with that?”

“Then I shall be the happiest dragon alive, my Queen. I wish nothing more than to be the cause of your smile for the rest of my days.” His words make you blush, now shy as you look down at the ground.

If this is what fate had in mind for you, dreams be damned, you would never question her intentions again.

358 notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 1 year

Note

If you are still taking requests I found this and I thought it was funny so I wanted to see if you could please write something with demon Hoseok and this idea thank you😊

satan: I HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF H-

me: wow you're tall

satan: thanks?

me : how tall are you?

Satan : i dunno like 6'6 6'11 with the horns?

me [ twirling hair] omg with horns! You are so funny

NOT TODAY, SATAN | JHS

If you had known the demon tasked with reaping your soul would be a total #daddy you would have gone to Hell sooner!

» pairing: demon!hoseok x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | humor | a lil bit of smut

» wc/date: 3.7k | october 2022

» notes: THIS REQUEST MADE ME CACKLE. i decided to post it for spooky szn~ so i hope that's ok 🥺 (i'm also dying cuz there's like lowkey unintentional parallels to this and my hobi idol au that's really killing me)

» masterlist

» what was jai listening to? all the good girls go to hell - billie eilish

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Purgatory looked like the DMV.

You should have expected it, honestly. Wasn’t it represented as some type of waiting room in Beetlejuice? Or maybe you were misremembering. Ever since you’d stepped through the front doors, your mind felt foggy. When you looked back through the windows, no parking lot met your gaze. Instead, a soft gray haze was pressed against the glass, causing a bit of condensation to gather.

How had you gotten here?

The answer to that seemed a bit foggy, too.

“Are you going to take a fucking number or just stand there like an idiot?”

The bristled voice shocked you into action. Stepping forward, you ripped a number tag from the stand directly in front of the door and moved to the side for the voice behind you. A few droplets of water splattered against your ankles when the person reached for their tag.

You suppressed a gasp.

She was completely soaked, so wet that she left a trail of water wherever she walked, like some kind of snail or slug. It was difficult to tell what her original complexion was because her skin was now a deep turquoise. Bits of twigs and what looked like seaweed twisted into her hair.

You followed the stranger’s water trail through the folding chairs lining the large waiting room. The speckled brown carpet squished beneath your sneakers. A bit of water was leaking inside to wet your socks.

“Number 746!”

A robotic voice beeped out the number over the speakers just as you sank into an empty folding chair. A man with large, dirty bandages wrapped around his head and over one eye stood from his seat beside you. He clutched a folder of papers to his chest and limped to the counter at the front of the room.

Three people in matching black professional uniforms sat behind the counter. You thought they resembled bank tellers from how they were spread out with glass barriers separating each person’s portion of the counter. The first two employees sat too far away to make out important details of their faces, but the third was only a few feet away from you.

He was easily the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life. The sharp cut of his jawline and the thin length of his nose slicing through high cheekbones and deep-set eyes made it difficult for you to pull your gaze away from him. Luckily, he was none the wiser of your ogling, for his attention was spent on assisting the person standing in front of the counter. You were free to marvel at his angular features, eventually shifting your eyes from the bow of his lips to examine some of his gentler features. His hair was dark like his outfit and fell soft against his forehead. Poking out of the layered waves were two thick… horns.

You pressed your thumbs into your eyes, but when you moved them away the horns remained.

They twisted at the tips, spiraling in opposite directions. A swirling pattern was etched into each of them. It reminded you of fingerprints.

“Number 749!”

You glanced down at the crumbled tag in your hand. 749.

With a sigh, you trudged up to the counter and stood in front of the beautiful man with twisted horns poking out of dark, luscious hair.

“I need an official form of identification and your death certificate.”

You stared at him blankly.

“An official form of identification and your death certificate,” he repeated with more force.

“I… don’t have a death certificate.”

Were you dead? How had you died? How could you have possibly received a death certificate if you were dead? You assumed your mother would have it; that was how things went, right?

The name badge clipped to his shirt read Hoseok, Assistant Manager. Assistant Manager of what? Purgatory?? What in the fuck was going on.

Hoseok turned to the computer sitting off to the side of his desk.

“What is your full name and date of birth?”

You gave him the information he was looking for and leaned forward to watch him tap away at the keyboard. What appeared to be a profile of you flashed across the screen. There was a photo of you, the one from your driver’s license. A few stats about you like your height and where you were born. Toward the bottom of the screen in large red block letters read TIME OF DEATH. You were pretty sure the date was recent, but you didn’t know what day it was currently. Before you could read further, Hoseok closed out the page.

“I need you to come with me,” Hoseok said abruptly. He gestured for you to step around the counter.

You took a look over your shoulder. No one else needed to go behind the counter, as far as you could tell. Although, you hadn’t paid much attention to the other people waiting for… whatever it was everyone was doing here. You still didn’t know.

With a nervous inhale that tickled your throat, you followed the… man? Whatever he was, through a door marked for employees only.

(So they were called employees. Hence the Assistant Manager badge, and all. What the fuck kind of job was this?)

Scurrying behind him to catch up with his long gait, you noticed that this person was tall. Like, impossibly tall. Come to think of it, it wasn’t just his height that was staggering. Everything about his presence seemed larger than life, like the very walls of the hallway needed to shift and expand to accommodate the power radiating off of him as he walked. You kept your eyes trained on his lean shoulders, watching the way his shoulder blades and back muscles made his shirt ripple when he breathed or turned around the corner.

“Ahem.” You cleared your throat.

Silence.

“Ahem.”

You did a little skip to speed up your walking and finally fell in line with the man. You flashed him what you’d consider an award-winning grin.

“Hoseok, right? You’re really fucking tall.”

He glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye.

So, a man of few words. Unless he was snapping at you about IDs and death certificates. Apparently.

“Where are we going?”

Hoseok immediately halted, catching you by surprise and nearly causing you to trip.

“Here.” With an outstretched arm, Hoseok opened the door to a simple office. He held it for you as you crossed the threshold.

“Please, take a seat.”

You eased into one of the chairs in front of the desk, which Hoseok sat behind once he snapped the door shut. The fabric scratched into the back of your legs.

Up close, Hoseok was even more breathtaking. You found that the horns weren’t as much of a creepy turnoff as you may have initially thought. Somehow, paired with the shimmering red tint to his eyes and the slits he had instead of proper circular pupils, you were rather turned on by this… otherworldly look he had going for him. It was spooky, in an “emo kid who works at Hot Topic and thinks Happy Tree Friends is edgy” kind of way. So… not spooky at all. Just endearing to the part of your brain where you’d locked up all your teen angst.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

You watched a transparent film slide sideways across Hoseok’s eyes and you realized he blinked with a third eyelid.

Weird, but kind of hot. Fuck conventional beauty standards! You could dig it.

“Because a handsome stranger brought me here?” You took a shot in the dark, though Hoseok didn’t appear to have followed you. He stared at you with his third eyelid and his slitted pupils and his sharpened teeth.

Wow, he had really pointy teeth.

“You’re here because…” Hoseok drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk. His nails were black and chipped. “You were never reaped.”

“Reaped? Like, the Grim Reaper?”

A low hiss came from the back of Hoseok’s throat. The sound made your skin prickle.

“The Grim Reaper is not real.” His voice slithered out of his mouth at the same time his tongue did. It was red and forked. “You were supposed to be reaped by one of us when you died,” he gestured to himself, “a demon.”

Well, obviously he was a demon. Or else he had a great sense of fashion.

You leaned forward to rest your arms on Hoseok’s desk. If he thought his freaky tongue and animalistic eyes were going to scare you, he was terribly wrong. You’d been on Vampirefreaks.com back when it was still a social media platform.

“Listen, Hoseokie. Can I call you Hoseokie?” Silence. “I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know how I got here, but I promise you, I am not dead.”

With a sigh, Hoseok flipped open the laptop on his desk. After a few moments of typing, he slid it toward you, adjusting the screen to make it easier for you to see.

There was your profile again. Hoseok quickly scrolled down to the section you hadn’t gotten to read earlier, the part about when you’d died.

“In my records, it states you are dead. As of,” he turned the screen toward himself for a moment, “As of 7 PM yesterday. Yet there is no record of how you died, where you died, nor which demon escorted you here. And no death certificate on file.”

Clearly, the missing death certificate situation had rubbed the guy the wrong way.

Maybe you should have felt more concerned that you had a snake-eyed self-proclaimed demon trying to convince you that you were dead and chilling out in Purgatory unchaperoned. But this was all fake, obviously. A dream. There was nothing to worry about.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hoseokie.” You gave the man - demon - a shrug.

Hoseok’s eyebrows pulled toward each other, causing the skin on his forehead to crease.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh really?”

Hoseok pursed his lips and gave you a curt nod.

“It already states here that you’ll be going to Hell, so I may as well just reap you myself since no one else has. I need to go downstairs anyway. We’ve been getting a high volume of damned souls recently and working overtime can be sustainable for only so long…”

Whatever else Hoseok had to say about “demon burnout” during a time when debauchery was at its highest on Earth (“Aside from the 70s, wow, the 70s was a time.”), you didn’t hear the rest of it. There were more important things to worry about.

You were going to Hell.

“Wait, wait, wait, Hoseokie, wait a minute.” You curled your fingers around the edge of his laptop screen. “I’m going to Hell? For what?! I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life.”

This was the part where Hoseok was supposed to say, “I know this, and I love you.”

Except he didn’t! The bastard just let his gorgeous mouth hang open and flicked his freaky forked tongue over those pearly fangs.

“I beg to differ.”

“How would you know?”

A small smirk flitted across Hoseok’s face and you felt your stomach twist into knots.

“Your memories, your experiences, your life - none of that belongs to you.”

You couldn’t tell which was more unnerving, the words he said or the dark tone he said them in. With a shiver, you chose to ignore whatever riddle he was speaking to you in and tried to change your strategy.

“Hoseokie, baby.” You ran your perfectly normal tongue along your lips and leaned even further into your companion’s personal space - as much as you could with a desk in between you. “Let’s not get carried away here.”

“Proper protocol was not followed, so we must rectify that,” Hoseok huffed. His shoulders sagged slightly, causing him to lean inward. Maybe your cute nickname was finally breaking him.

“Do we really?”

“Yes.”

“But, really? Hoseokie, babe, do I look like I belong in Hell?”

The demon blinked with his third eyelid a few times. You watched the slit of his pupils flicker as he genuinely took the time to look you over. It was a hypothetical question and now you were scared of the actual answer. He was a demon, after all. He’d know what a damned soul looked like, right?

“Well.” You watched Hoseok’s throat bob as he swallowed. “You did read a lot of serial killer fanfiction on AO3.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms against your chest.

“Are you kink-shaming me right now?”

Hoseok mirrored your scoff and busied himself with tidying up a stack of loose papers on his desk, but you saw the way his cheeks turned a healthy shade of pink.

Interesting.

“So, I’m going to Hell because I read One Direction serial killer AUs? Really? That’s why I’m going to Hell?”

“No!” Hoseok huffed again, louder this time. He ran his fingers through his hair and gave you a pleading look. “I don’t know! I don’t decide who goes to Hell, I just take them there!”

“Then don’t take me.”

It seemed like the obvious solution, but Hoseok looked at you like you’d threatened to kill him.

“I have to take you.”

“Oh yeah? Or else what?” You were back to leaning against his desk, your head in your hands and your elbows on the surface. “Satan damns you to some horrible eternal punishment?”

Hoseok turned his head and mumbled to the side, “Something like that.”

You wanted to ask him what it mattered if he was already a demon working for Satan, but you figured that would push him a bit too far. Instead, you were just going to beg. Considering the circumstances, you allowed yourself to do it without hurting your self-respect. Dire times, dire measures.

“Hoseokie, please,” you whined with your bottom lip jutted out. You reached out to hook your finger around one of his, pulling his hand away from where it rested against his chin. “Please, don’t take me to Hell. Let me stay here, with you.”

“With me?” Hoseok’s eyes widened, slitted pupils dilating into ovals.

“Mhmm, wouldn’t that be nice?” you purred, lightly tracing the lines of his palm with your index finger. “You’re so pretty and you look so stressed. What did you say earlier, about burnout? They aren’t taking care of you here, are they, Hoseokie?”

The demon bit his lip. His razor-sharp teeth pressed deep indents into what you knew were soft pink lips.

“I could help you out, Hoseokie, baby.”

Those dark eyes shimmered red and finally met your gaze, though his face was still flushed and his expression almost… timid.

“Help me out?” he murmured, almost as though he were talking himself through the conversation rather than asking you a question.

“Mhmm…”

You pressed your hands flat against the desk and hoisted yourself on top of it. The stack of papers Hoseok had just fixed went flying. He weakly reached out to stop a few of them from slipping off and floating to the carpeted floor.

“I don’t know.” Hoseok’s voice wavered, though you had to give him credit for his ability to maintain eye contact with you as you scooted across the desk.

“I think you do know, Hoseokie.”

Hoseok shook his head, third eyelids putting in work to blink away the shock when you eased yourself into his lap.

You’d been so caught up on how tall and menacing he’d looked in the hallway that you hadn’t stopped to consider the rest of his details, like how firm and comfortable his thighs were. You wiggled your ass to get settled, eliciting a low groan from the demon whose red eyes still rounded under your gaze.

“I’m going to get in trouble,” he pleaded with you when you dug your fingers into his hair and yanked his head backward. “I really don’t want to get in trouble.”

“And I really don’t want to go to Hell.” You dug your teeth into the soft skin of his throat and Hoseok let out a whimpered hiss. “Do you see our problem here?”

Of course, he could see the problem, but Hoseok was driven mute by your free hand palming his cock through his pants. His hold on your waist was bruisingly tight, but you kept a firm grip on his hair and a hot hand on his crotch. There was no way he was getting an upper hand in this, not that you expected him to. He was whimpering and pliant underneath you already.

Maybe you were absolutely insane, but if you had to suck some demon dick to get out of Hell, you were going to fucking do it. No matter how weird it probably looked.

“Y/N, wait.” Hoseok shuddered as you popped open the button of his pants and dragged down the zipper. “Listen to me, it’s not, it’s not a good idea.”

You let your fingertips dance along the waistband of his underwear. You weren’t sure why it was funny that he was wearing underwear; it just seemed like such a silly thing for a demon to need. Out here reaping souls and getting angry over death certificates, and going to the store to buy underwear after work.

It was just funny.

“Why not, Hoseokie? Don’t tell me they don’t let you have a little fun around here.” You batted your eyes at him and slide your hand beneath the fabric.

“It’s not- fuck.”

Hoseok tried to lean forward, to curl into himself, when you pressed your thumb against his leaking slit, but you kept his head pulled backward by his hair.

“Now, I’m gonna tell you what we’re gonna do, okay Hoseokie baby?”

The demon opened his mouth to speak and you shivered as his forked tongue wet his lips.

“Okay.”

“Good little demon, thank you,” you cooed praise that made his face flush an even deeper red. “I’m going to suck your dick and then you’re gonna delete whatever record you have of me and we’re going to forget I was ever even here, alright?”

When Hoseok didn’t speak, you squeezed the head of his cock.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, alright,” he sputtered.

“Good.”

The bright side to all of this was that his dick didn’t look any different from any other dick you’d ever seen, although it did seem a bit long. Which was fine. You had hands, didn’t you? You knew how to do a little two-hand twist when needed.

Just as you were about to slide off Hoseok’s lap and get on your knees, the door to his office flung open so hard it slammed against the wall.

“Oh fuck,” Hoseok gulped. He quickly stuffed his cock back inside his pants and zipped his pants up with trembling fingers.

“Oh fuck is right. What the fuck is going on here?”

You turned to look over your shoulder at the person who owned such a smooth, sinister voice that dripped enough malice for you to drown in it. You felt your entire body grow cold when you were met with slitted eyes that glowed even more brightly than Hoseok’s. The eyes roamed your face, your body, your position still straddling Hoseok’s lap. And you did the same, your human eyes taking in the man’s black fitted suit, the swell of his thighs beneath the fabric, the pout of his lips, the craters his dimples made in his cheeks as he sucked on his teeth in seething anger.

“I-I-I-I, Your Majesty,” Hoseok’s tongue fumbled over the words as he tried shoving you off of him.

Oh shit, was this God? He was way too hot to be God.

You stood when Hoseok did, the two of you blinking with your eyes wide and mouths hanging open like idiots in front of the sharply dressed man. Just past the doorway, you could see a few other men flanking the entrance, as though they were guarding it.

“Don’t fucking call me Your Majesty while your cock is twitching in your pants, Hoseok. Have some decency,” the dimpled man chastised with a snort.

Was God allowed to curse? You supposed he was, but multiple F-bombs and a casual “cock” thrown around seemed like a lot for a guy who was meant to be the holiest of the holy.

“And you.”

You poked your index finger against your chest when the man suddenly loomed over you.

“Me?”

“You’re supposed to be with me.”

You rose your eyebrows and shot Hoseok a look, but he had his eyes on the floor.

“Oh… you’re not God…”

You felt fire lick and burn up your chest and across your throat when the man leaned his head back to bellow a laugh so deep you swore the walls moved just as they had for Hoseok when he walked.

“Sweet of you to think so highly of the Devil, little human.”

Aw, fuck.

You were going to Hell.

“Now, listen, the One Direction serial killer AUs weren’t actually that bad. Like, if you’d just give it a chance, you’d understand,” you began.

“Reasoning with me is futile, pet.”

The sound of your teeth clamping shut echoed through the room. You probably should have been scared of how poisonous his tone sounded, but excitement thrummed in your stomach.

No one had ever called you pet before. It was kind of cute.

“Now, let’s go, shall we?”

If Satan had a problem with the way you whimpered when he wrapped a smooth, tan hand around your bicep to haul you out of the room, he didn’t make any indication. If anything, you thought he squeezed you a bit tighter.

“I didn’t think Satan would be so buff,” you murmured and you heard Hoseok choke.

You’d all but forgotten about the guy.

“Oh! Hoseokie!” You twisted your neck around to face him as Satan began leading you away. “Thanks for hanging out! I forgive you for being such a rule follower!”

You turned up to look at Satan’s face which was a bit hard to do considering he was so tall and all legs and pecs that looked better than any boobs you’d ever seen. It was very distracting.

“You’re not going to damn him to some horrible eternal punishment, are you?”

“I think working here is punishment enough, don’t you?”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

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helenazbmrskai · 1 year

Text

Club Vampire [Request]

Pairing – [Sub!Jeongguk x Reader]

Genre – [Vampire Au, Bar Au, Smut]

Warnings – [brat taming, bondage, cock riding, orgasm denial, blowjob, handjob, grinding, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, crying kink]

Word Count – [4,5k]

AN.– Thank you for waiting patiently I hope you will enjoy it however it got out of hand I hope you don’t mind I made him a brat. @bloodline1632

The world is a dangerous place, honey. A general truth that is at the back of every human’s mind from an early age.

It is told that vampires with menacing smiles and pearly white fangs crawl out to the streets at night under the veil of stars and moon. Many stories are shared with body horror elements to deter; drained pretty necks with puncture wounds, their bodies left with a white sheet of sweaty skin and then dumped in alleyways for unsuspecting passersby to be the witnesses.

Only two types of people come out around midnight when it’s the darkest hour of the day: the ones with a biting fetish or dumb little girls seeking an adventure to spite their parents- maybe even the world. What does a chic and neat girl do around the west part of town? At this hour? Your red lips pray to tell.

Jeongguk doesn’t know – your eyes don’t tell – but he seemingly doesn’t care as his eyes flash a dangerous ruby red from your scent wafting through the smoky air. The first thing you do when you enter the dimly lit bar is that you walk to the bartender ignoring your surroundings and ask for a gin tonic. How classic.

It’s not your kind of scene but you’re not out of place. You’re confident and your smile is pretty almost menacing when you thank the guy for the drink he bought. Your first free drink of the night of many.

During the time you wait for your drink to be ready five different people- vampires try to get your attention.

Some are bold enough to initiate conversation despite your confidence that’s oozing from you and some remain to the means of cowardly watching you from afar, waiting for the moment you decide to leave so they could follow and steal a taste. You’re seemingly unaware of the effect you have on them and Jeongguk’s brow furrows. You’re taunting them like a mistress. If he didn’t be wrapped up by your human scent he might mistake you for a vampiress.

Jeongguk tilts his head to the side with irritation when a man approaches you yet again – he thinks you’re either foolish to realise their intent or you dangerously ignore the looming darkness that asked you out on a deadly dance. Ready to drag you to the depth of hell if you’re not careful enough. You would be a waste – Jeongguk surprisingly thinks.

Rest assured dear spectators, you’re not ignorant nor foolish. You’re here for a reason and that reason just watches you from across the bar.

From the moment you stepped inside with your heels clinking on the wooden floor, he was nursing a glass of 0- blood in the darkest corner. Yes, you know of Jeon Jeongguk even if he doesn’t know of you yet. He has a bad reputation among your people.

It would be hard not to hear the horror stories about him even when the sun is up. Vampires with money and political power are taught to be the most dangerous of them all but Jeongguk even without all of that managed to make a name for himself. An otherworldy womanizer – how fitting. His speciality is to leave bleeding hearts behind his broad back after a satisfactory night. He prefers 0- blood and what a coincidence that you have that. Right?

You don’t care about anyone else even when you look them in the eye and entertain their fantasies for a short minute or two. You don’t look in the mouth of the free drinks you receive. The bartender is also curious about what a nice girl like you is doing here but what you would answer makes the man behind the counter scowl with confusion. Silence follows and your smile grows all the more.

”Hunting.” Your smile is cheeky.

You lift your glass to your lips and take a burning sip without making a face at the taste. The bartender shakes his head in disbelief when another vampire approaches and goes back to tending to his other customers. Although keeps the corner of his eyes reserved for you; curious to see your plan unfold. It’s a slow night with fewer vampires and humans to colour the palette but drinks are swallowed down eagerly by the patrons nonetheless. You prefer smaller crowds anyway.

”Hunting for what?” You school your features before you turn to the velvety voice that you heard to your right. Excitement fills your veins with bubbly rushes of oxygen. Your lovely scent is even stronger standing this close. His black coal eyes seemingly go through you. Fiery and piercing. Assured. You taunt him to try and figure you out before you do but be aware of your intelligent watching eyes as well – on him. Rushing against time. It’s him that seems a little impatient.

You watch him beckon the guy working on the drinks – severing eye contact for split seconds only – to order you and him another glass of what you had. You clearly have his full attention and you plan to bask in it. You lost count of the drinks you consumed but you’re not too worried, you’re still level-headed for what’s yet to come tonight. You wouldn’t jeopardise your chances by getting too drunk to make the calls. Alcohol works differently in a vampire bar as they don’t like the taste of it in humans so you’re not worried. The recipe is altered so it takes a lot to get wasted.

Your smile widens, there’s something in your confidence that baffles the vampire temporarily the curious frown he wears takes ages off his face- painting him angelic. But you know it’s just a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing to be more alluring for the prey.

You take your time looking him over. You’ve been dying to see him up close and now you can shamelessly watch the muscles in his arms move as he gets his drink, see his adam’s apple bob when he swallows it down. Dark curly hair with dark clothes and bright eyes lends him that mysterious aura every woman likes. Including you. „Hunting for what?” his question rings in your head. It’s time. You smile.

”You.” You drain the gin tonic in a single shot after you decided on your answer. Straight to the point. You know you made the right choice of words since Jeongguk looks even more determined to see through your intentions.

You could see the cogs working in his head. Displeased by the loss of his control that he usually gets handed over but too intrigued to leave.

”Oh? Is that so? If you were looking for me why wait till I approach?” His rings click against the glass when he picks it up and gulps it down and then licks the droplets from the corner of his mouth slowly – knowing that you’re looking at him intently – showing you his pink tongue and the tips of his fangs for a teasing appetizer. Similar to how your drink disappeared the bartender soon gave you another glass without having to ask and you both continue drinking.

The night is still young but you know how it will end.

”Because I knew you would. I’m Y/N.” Your smirk is confusing to him. You don’t try to shake his hand. He’s not used to his prey being so confident in their bodies. Usually, they feel ashamed of the fact that they want to take him to bed. Want him to feed on them while he fucks them into the mattress. It’s easy to figure out what they want. But not you. No. You’re different.

”I’m-”

”I know who you are.” You interrupt him with a growing smirk. He doesn’t like that you’ve cut him off but he cools his features before the mask of his feigned confidence and cockiness is back on.

You’re shameless and it stirs something sinister in him, a strong need to have you. You’re a brat. You won’t be easy but he will have you and enjoy it wholeheartedly when you finally give in to the temptation. He’s sure of it.

You could tell from his expression that he thinks he will have the upper hand like always that you’ll be begging him to fuck you. Oh. He’s so wrong. If anyone will beg tonight – it ain’t gonna be you.

”Confident are we?” Jeongguk leans closer waiting for that look of intimidation that usually follows with his closeness (at the last attempts of his tricks to get you wrapped around his sexy fingers) but you’re staring at him blank. It throws him off and that’s when you proceed.

”Confident that by the end of this night you’ll be begging me to let me fuck you.” You lean real close till your natural breath tickles the shell of his ear. The sensuality of the moment creates a bubble around you that you don’t hear the noise of the bar any longer or the loud music. It’s just you and him. You’re whispering next to his ears but everyone heard you loud and clear and they found it funny. Until. Until they see the baffled look on Jeongguk’s face when you walk away.

No one before left the vampire dry and hanging.

Phase one is completed –you muse inside your head. Here comes phase two.

His body moves like you’re pulling his limbs on strings. Follows you into the crowd and slips behind you when you start to dance. Jeongguk glares at everyone that tries to get close or touch you. You’re his for the night.

He doesn’t move to the beat of the music but he’s practically glued to your side as you do. Your warm skin brushes against him with your every move and roll of your hips. You enjoy the song with your eyes closed knowing that Jeongguk keeps an eye on you. He’s almost yours.

Jeongguk has a protective hand over your stomach but doesn’t restrain you or your movements. He doesn’t move either. If you were looking you would see the tightness of his jaw. With his desires, his bloodlust grows exponentially whilst his patience is wearing thinner by the minutes he’s not buried inside of you. He wouldn’t even care to fuck you right this moment surrounded by so many people dancing.

He hisses at every drunk couple that occasionally bumps into you and he pulls you even closer until you’re practically glued to his front. Away from everyone else that tries to distract him from his meal. His ego is bruised by the looks he gets but a part of him cannot make the choice to move away when your closeness means your hip rolls into the growing erection in his pants. He doesn’t want to move when your delicious scent wraps around his senses. Jeongguk sucks in a sudden sharp breath when you grind down on him. Your ass is perfectly rubbing against his clothed cock that grows harder in his jeans with every teasing dance move you do.

”You’re playing with fire Y/N.” His lips are placed against your ear as he whispers - grits the words only for you to hear with no real threat. The deep and dangerous tone makes a shiver run down your spine in excitement. Jeongguk squeezes your hips in warning when you continue but you’re just getting started. His empty promises mean nothing to you at this point.

”You’re the one who likes to play with their food. I’m different though. All you have to do is tell me the magic words- and I’ll make it happen.”

You snake a hand behind his neck scratching his scalp lightly before seamlessly pushing his nose into the juncture of your neck. Turn your head a little to the side to have the veins make an outline to make it more inviting. Your smell surrounds him and he nearly goes insane from the fragrance of you in the air. Your closeness is maddening. He doesn’t remember a time he was standing this close to someone and he wasn’t fucking her. The desire he has for your body is almost boiling over. You’re playing a dangerous game poking the bear but even if he tears you apart you’re sure he could put you back together in the end.

His hands on your hips tighten to a painful grip but you only push him deeper into you. Until nothing for him exists just you and your sweet smell of blood. It’s a dangerous and bold move that has your heart racing when Jeongguk inhales sharply. He could easily bite you here and suck you dry but he won’t. Even though his fangs are itching to sink into your main arteries and tear you apart like an animal. Instead, he growls into your skin and kisses down the producing veins. Listen to your ragged breaths and calm sighs.

Jeongguk never teases himself if he can help it. Everything he wants he gets it. Whatever and whenever he wants it but not with you. No. He’ll have to let you tease him. You’ve been doing it since you stepped through the door and you continue doing it with your bottom half pushing back on him, rubbing his cock with your plump ass until he reaches full hardness.

You know you won when he lets out a barely audible whimper it only takes a bit of pressure – it’s unlike any of the sounds he usually makes and if he could he would be blushing by now. He bites his lips until it draws his own blood to keep his voice steady no more whining and whimpering. A man doesn’t whimper even if it feels good. He doesn’t want you to stop either but you do.

You turn around in his hold and silence his protests with a kiss. His hands move to grab your ass and get back some of the friction between your bodies. Your kisses are too heated to be acceptable in public but it’s a bar frequented by vampires and everybody enjoys a little show of the cocky Jeon Jeongguk getting visibly submissive for a human girl who happens to know what buttons to push. He lets her do the push and pull but judging by the surrounding silence you think it’s time to take this to another place – move this into more private settings. The show is over.

He devours your mouth to the way of your apartment. So focused on you that he didn’t see the weird looks people cast on the two of you when you of all people dragged away the Jeon Jeongguk hand in hand.

Your dark home doesn’t pose a challenge to his excellent sight he could back you up against your bedroom door with ease and you let him be in a false sense that he’s controlling the situation. Using the element of surprise you’re able to change your position and have you hover over his body and mouth without touching turning the knob and letting yourselves in.

He’s leaning closer and closer to steal your kisses but you back away until his legs are bumping into the bedframe. You push his shoulders down until he sits. He’s stronger than you but he’s so occupied enjoying your kisses that he doesn’t even think about outpowering you. His head is foggy from the desire.

You take your place on his lap and enjoy the way he grabs your ass and moves your body to rub your cores together. You kiss up from his neck and leave your mark all over until you hear those high-pitched sounds that he’s so embarrassed to let out even when alone in the darkness of your room.

The vampire is dazed when you suddenly stand up. He’s panting like a dog. You walk over to your dresser to grab something and Jeongguk watches you retrieve a special rope that could restrain him. Hunting. Your words start to make sense in his head but in too deep now to quit.

”No.” Unfortunately, his head clears now that he’s not constantly under the influence of your touches. This might pose a challenge.

”You’re in my territory vampire. Do as I say or you could just leave.” It’s risky to make him choose but you need to be firm. Dominance is all about what you think you can do and if the other person doesn’t realise it’s him who gives up the power you gain – then – that’s when you become the most powerful.

”What are you planning to do with that?” You can tell he’s in turmoil with his own thoughts. He’s too invested to leave- but not used to handing over the reins. You would be nervous too.

Your smile is angelic but your actions are pure lust. You push the rope against his neck barely touching the skin when you lower it down, caressing his neck and then his producing collarbones with the rough material. Jeongguk watches you with dangerous eyes as you help him unbutton his shirt and drag the rope lower until you reach the line of his underwear. Puffs of his breath hit your face from the closeness but you’re not giving him the satisfaction of claiming your lips.

”A woman always has to be careful. What if you bite me when I’m unprepared?” You present your neck cheekily wrapping the rope around your neck like a scarf before you take a seat on the vampire’s lap.

Your hands caress the exposed skin of his chest teasingly rolling over his nipples that make him yelp in surprise. You let out a good-natured laugh at his cuteness. His hands hold your waist tighter when your touches tickle. He’s still not convinced that’s all you want with the rope.

”I promise I won’t.” Jeongguk nuzzles his face between your breasts. You’re so warm he can hear the blood rushing through your veins. It makes him feel alive too. Your scent is driving him mad each second that he spends not having you.

”You promised the other girls that you’ll call them when you sent them away. Why should I believe your lies?” You pull away with a frown. The way he lied shouldn’t sting, it shouldn’t matter because you know his nature so, why? Why is that his lie managed to hurt your feelings? You slip your tongue into his mouth as you kiss him with relentless anger. His gasp lets you access him easily. Surprised how fired up you got he couldn’t even say anything to calm you down as you right out devoured and took over his mouth. All he could do is kiss you back hotly letting your tongues fight for dominance until you had to come up for air.

You’re able to get him distracted with your urgent kisses that his brain completely short-circuited only to realise it too late that his hands are bound behind his back. Jeongguk growls when he tries to free himself but is unable to.

”Release me.” He bares his teeth threateningly but you’re not phased by the anger in his gaze and your smile only grows exponentially. Your hands run through the length of his thighs you feel how his muscles tense under your touches until you hook a finger into the waistband of his pants and jank it down his legs.

”How about no.” You grin like the devil incarnate whilst your fingers tease his hardness through the material of his briefs. His cock jumps at the touch but his face is still showing a mean frown stubbornly biting back the sounds your movements ignite.

”You can let go. I’m not going to hurt you Gukkie. It’s going to be our little secret so by all means, don’t hold back your sounds.” Jeongguk fights against the urge to close his eyes in bliss when you pull the last layer off his body. His cock is resting heavily against his stomach, the tip is flushed and glistening in the dim lights. Your fingertips are barely grazing the underside of his shaft his length jerks at the touch of your teasing fingers. You look up to see the desperation in his expression but too stubborn to beg.

”Don’t forget. All you have to do is ask.” Your lips press against the tip as you talk touching the sensitive skin with every word but not quite how he wants it. You lick them clean from the precum that got smeared on them and you moan at the taste of him.

Getting greedy you suck on it gently rolling your tongue over the flushed skin that has his hips jerk and buck into you forcing your mouth to wrap around more of his cock. You hum around it in surprise your eyes close for only a minute to enjoy the stretch of your jaw to accommodate half of his length before you swallow around him.

The first sounds come fumbling out of his mouth when you withdraw your sweet torture. Half of his cock is coated with your saliva, slick and the tip oozing more precum that you could lick up. It stains your fingers when you wrap them around him.

”-Ah, never. I’ll never do it.” You take him down your throat before he could finish his words and you hum in response adding to his torture and his head involuntarily tilts back in a loud moan. His fingers would be in your hair if he could move to force your head further down his shaft but he’s not the one in control and you pull back without a problem.

”Too bad, I guess you don’t want to cum enough.” You stroke his cock pulling back the foreskin before you kiss the tip teasingly. His hips move to fuck into your fist but you slow down, even more, he tries to pick up speed with his frantic movements. Unshed tears sting in his eyes the longer you prolong his high, not letting him tip over the edge.

You take him into your mouth carefully tonguing at the underside of his cock before you pay attention to his swollen tip coming up his length collecting his precum with a swivel of your tongue. You can feel him throb between your lips. Sweat rolls down his temple trying to chase your soft caresses but in vain as you pull away each time you could almost taste his release in your mouth. His resolve is already weakened. It won’t take long before he gives up.

”No, no, no! Don’t stop.” Jeongguk growls and trashes against his binds when you deny him yet another orgasm.

”Say please.” You lick the precum off your lips kissing down his tense stomach leaving your marks everywhere on his body. Smiling into his skin when he shivers from your nails raking down his thighs. Now, this is how you like it.

”No.” He shakes his head. Jeongguk’s eyes are a dangerous shade of red when you look up, those beautiful eyes with tears running down his cheeks he looks ethereal. You almost take pity. Almost.

”No? What a shame. I would have let you cum inside my pussy but I guess you’re not interested.” You take off your panties and jeans, watch his pupils dilate when your aroma fills the room the scent of your arousal is thick in the air as you part your slick folds with your fingers for show. He has a great view of your pussy and he sees two of your fingers disappear in your hole that forces an animalistic growl from his throat.

”Want you to sit on my dick.” No please huh?

”Fine.” Jeongguk looks at you with surprise in his round eyes. Barely have time to be suspicious of how easily you agreed. He didn’t think you would just do as he says and some of his cockyness is back as you rub yourself over his cock but your smile promise something else. There’s mischief in your eyes as you lower yourself on him. Slowly filling your pussy with his thick length until you’re completely seated.

Usually, he’s better than that but you’re hugging him so tight and your walls are so warm and pulsing around him that he could cum just from all the sensation finally granted after you edged him a couple of times with your mouth and fingers.

His eyes are focused on the producing veins on your neck. His body feels like it's on fire with you moving on top of him, so close but so out of reach. His hands are still tied behind his back while you ride him.

You slow down that seems to be the last drop before the glass overfilled. His eyes continued to shed beautiful tears so you kiss his cheek lovingly.

”Can I bite, please? Just one bite.” He looks desperate as his gaze is zeroed down on your neckline and his eyes are fogged up that you’re almost certain he doesn’t even realise he said please for the first time.

”Of course. You asked so nicely. Good job.” You run your fingers through his hair guiding his head to your neck so he could bite you.

He doesn’t waste time he already got a favourite spot on your skin to sink his fangs into and he does it without hesitance. His fangs pierce through your skin like paper and your blood spills into his mouth in an instant. Getting drunk on your taste as you sit with his cock deeply nestled inside of you.

You play with his hair while he drinks you could feel your pulse throb in the rhythm of his hungry gulps but you pull his head back before he could take too much from you. His lips, chin and collarbones are red from your blood but you’re not repulsed to kiss him and taste the iron on your tongue. You start moving again with the intent of cumming and he helps you with thrusting up meeting you in the middle.

Jeongguk buries his face into your neck moaning into your skin and cleaning your wound with sensual licks that add to the pleasure of riding his cock with reckless abandon. You’re so close you could taste the orgasm in your mouth. You only need a little push that you provide yourself by rubbing your clit.

You cum around his cock your walls are fluttering around him keeping him just right at the edge but never quite there.

His cock is still leaking, red and hard when you get up pushing at his chest until he’s laying on the bed. He’s panting and struggling against his binds. The loss of your heat makes him react like a feral beast. It doesn’t seem far-fetched as he still has your blood tainting his face and his eyes ruby red.

”Please, please, please.” Jeongguk tossed away his pride and begged as tears continued to stream down his face. You decide it's best not to deny him his orgasm anymore as you don’t know if he will go mad or not if you do.

”Shh, I got you baby.” You massage his shoulders and place pecks all around his face, his nose, lips, and cheeks as you slowly sink down, his length filling you up again. You purposefully tighten your walls around him to get him to finish as you start a punishing pace.

Milking every drop of cum that he has for you.

#sub jeongguk #sub jungkook #sub bts #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #dom reader #sub bts smut #vampire bts #bts supernatural au #vampire jungkook

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7ndipity · 7 months

Text

Fae Jimin AU Headcanons

Fae!Jimin x Reader

Summary: Catching you before you fall away, he decides that you could help him with his work as an overviewer of the Sidh, helping make sure that the balance between worlds stays even, falling for your humanity as he tries to show the wonder in your own world.

Warnings: Swearing, lil angst, supernatural elements, only partially proofread

A/N: This is an idea I’ve been obsessed with for a while(cause I’m a folklore nerd), but could never figure out an overarching plot to make it into a series, so I present for your consideration: Jimin, the emotional support Fae roommate lol.

(reminder that if there’s any points you want to be made into further HCs, blurbs, etc, send me an ask!)

Masterlist Non-Linear m.list

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

How you met:

He stopped you from falling into a fairy ring in the woods. You’d happened across it while on a walk to clear your head while upset about something and ending up standing there studying it for several minutes, contemplating how nice it must be to just be able to fall into a different world where no one knew you and you could start over. Shaking out of your revere, you had turned to leave, only for your damn ankle to twist and send you off balance.

“Careful!” A pair of gentle hands came out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and pulling you into him. You looked up and were met with his soft eyes on you.

“You should be careful.” He warned. “You know what they say if you step in those, you might end up in the fairy realm and not get to come back.” “What if that’s what I want?” You replied. He looked back at you, suddenly serious. “You don’t want that, trust me.”

After that, you keep running into him everywhere(partially due to his newfound fascination with you), eventually figuring out what he is.

He explains that he’s a type of Fae called the Sidh(pronounced shee) which are basically a type of overviewer of the Fae, their role being to keep balance and make sure that the others don’t cause too much trouble.

“There’s a lot of different doorways to and from this world, and not all of them are nice.” He explains to you, visibly tense. “Sometimes just going through the wrong door can kill you.”

Teaches you how to spot Fae.

Points out a couple walking along on the other side of the road. “See them?” He asked, leaning close as he whispers to you.

“One of them is a Sidh?”

He shakes his head, motioning to the child you hadn’t noticed trailing behind them, bouncing about, overly hyper.

“The kid?!” You exclaim, turning to him, suddenly realizing how close he was to you.

“Wait.” He leaned in, gently placing his hands over your eyes for a moment, a tingling sensation washing over your skin before pulling away. “Now look.”

You blinked, slightly dazed before you turned back, letting out a gasp as your eyes found the family again.

While the couple were the same, the child’s appearance had shifted drastically; limbs slightly too long and thin, large, glassy black eyes, their skin now a pale, almost grayish color, they almost looked like an alien.

“What the-?”

“A changeling.” He said lowly.

Teaches you about some of his magic, but warns that some of it can have ‘adverse’ effects on humans

“Wait! What about my eyes then?!” You asked suddenly.

He looked back at you slyly. “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary, this time. It should wear off in a few hours.”

He turned to walk away. “See you at home!”

Winds up just moving in with you in your little house on the edge of town that runs along the woods at the back.

“You’re a Witch!” He realized loudly as he surveyed your house, taking in the crystals and new-age items littered around(he’s not exactly right about this, but you’ll explain that to him later). You can’t tell if he’s excited or upset by this discovery at first.

(it’s both because, as he explains, his ‘charms’ don’t work as well on other magical beings, hence the constant bickering between the two of you. The fact that he can’t just ‘make’ you agree with him irritates him to no end)

Ends up revealing(probably during a fight) that he might be stuck in this world.

“I can’t go back!” “Can’t or won’t?!” “Both!” He yells. “I don’t know if I can, and if I could, I don’t want to! I like it here, with you.” His voice falters, shaking with emotions. “I want to stay with you.”

About him:

His eyes change color; sometimes they’re gray, sometimes blue, one time you could’ve sworn they were purple, but most of the time, they’re a varying shade of brown.

Fangs(you’d be surprised how often fae have them in old stories): His are small and rather feline looking, but he only shows them if he’s really angry or frightened.

Age: Not entirely sure. He says he’s been around awhile, but time moves differently for them. They still age similar to humans, just slower. They might live for longer too, but you can’t tell if he was joking or not about that one.

The biggest sweet tooth, holy shit. You once caught him in the middle of the night eating nothing but pure sugar with a spoon, he literally can’t get enough of the stuff.

The first time you gave him cotton candy, his eyes got so big, you’re pretty sure he ascended to another plane.

As well as a sweet tooth, he loves alcohol and has a very high tolerance. He can get drunk, but it takes A LOT.

Surprisingly good at lying for a Fae.

He? Perches? Everywhere?

Like, he can’t just sit on the couch? Nope, he’s on your desk, the kitchen table, the bathroom counter. It’s like living with a giant cat.

Which reminds me, he has ABSOLUTELY NO CONCEPT OF PERSONAL SPACE.

You’re trying to cook? He’s there. Going to bed? He’s there. Open the curtain to get out of the shower and yep, he’s there, just chilling.

Literally the “Hey, I was- why are you screaming? Anyway, are we out of oreos?” meme.

Walks super close to you, intentionally bumping your shoulders.(can’t tell if this is him being affectionate or annoying)

Very noseyinquisitive. Goes through all your shit, asking questions and throwing judgy looks at you, but for the oddest, most random things, like the color of your toothbrush.

Trying to explain ‘human things’ to him and how people normally act and behave. “But you’re not like that?” He commented curiously, watching you. “That’s because I’m… weird.” You said, without looking up. “I like weird.” He mumbles.

Some nights when it’s quiet, you find him out in the back garden, just sitting, sometimes with his eyes closed, almost as if he’s meditating, other times just staring off into the trees. You’ve wondered about what he’s thinking of when he’s out there, but he doesn’t tell you much.

The first time you got sick with him there, he was an absolute wreck, hardly leaving your side for more than a moment, even watching over you when you slept. Did everything he could think of to make you feel better, even considered magic, but you shut that one quick, so he just suffices with loads of tea and soup.

Likes to believe he can be somewhat intimidating or scary, but to you he's a literal ball of marshmallow fluff.

“You think I can’t be scary?” He asked in a low voice, looming over you with a dark glint in his eyes.

“Nope.” You boop him on the nose, making him pout.

“You didn’t even let me try!” He whined loudly.

“There’s no point, you don’t scare me!” You laughed.

“I should though! I am an ominous, fearsome creature from the otherworld!” He proclaimed dramatically, making you laugh harder. “I will drain your lifeforce for my own power!”

“That’s for vampires!” You giggled.

“Vampires are a type of Sidh.”

“Wait really?!” You perked up in interest, making him roll his eyes and walk away. “Are they really? Jimin?!”

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moccahobi · 4 months

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Tangled Mess Masterlist

Summary: Hoseok has a gift. He can see the red strings that tie soulmates together. All his life he’s seen them and has seen the ways just about everyone seems to disregard them. Jaded to the prospect of finding his soulmate and confused by the idea of romance and soulmates, he is lost for what to do when he meets his own soulmate in the most inopportune ways. Yoongi has a skill: emotional repression. He knows what he wants in life but feels unable to do anything to get many of those goals. Isolated and frustrated, he feels like he is trapped in his room, triaging his life. The two watch from the sidelines, rooted in place and unable to do anything to bring them closer to love and connection.

Pairings: Hoseok x GN Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook

Genre: Soulmate AU, Grad School AU, Young Professional AU, Angst, Fluff

Series Warnings: A breakup

Planned Schedule: Wednesdays

Masterlist last updated: 2/4/2024

A/N: I may get behind on updating links, but all the fics and the masterlist will have the tag "series: tangled mess" if the links aren't updated~

Part 1: The Meeting

Part 2: Game Night 1

Part 3: Tight Elastic

Part 4: Something's Cooking

Part 5: Solitare

Part 6: Game Night 2

Part 7: Coffee and Conversations

Part 8: Sheep Farm

Part 9: Together

Part 10: Our Place

Part 11: To-Go Food

Part 12: Changes

Part 13: Other's Secrets

Part 14:

#bts fanfic #bts soulmate au #bts mxr #bts hoseok #bts jhope #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #bts supernatural au #bts masterlist #bts fluff #bts angst #yoonkook au #bts jungkook #bts yoongi #bts suga #series: tangled mess

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yoongsisbae · 1 year

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V is for Villain 2/3

What does it mean to be a villain? What does it really mean to be a vigilante? A vanquisher of evil or a victor for the good? Stories praise the fall of devils, cheer at the marvels of the virtuous, and forget the victorious tell a version conveniently veiling their own atrocities. Evilness was once the brightest star in heaven. And goodness, well, morality can so often be contentious. This time, there is the hero with the strength of a hundred men, there is the villain that can vanish his vulnerabilities in a very instant, and then there’s you.

PART 1 HERE. Superhero/Super Villain AU. Taehyung x y/n x Namjoon love triangle (or rhombus if you wanna count Yoongi :P) Continuation to Your Friendly Neighborhood Superhero, RM.

Warnings: love-hate relationship, soft yandere tae, smut, dubcon, exhibitionism, oral, shower sex, rough sex, police brutality, attempted SA, violence, unhinged y/n

Word Count: 17.8k

---

You look down at the ground quickly approaching. Namjoon isn’t going to reach you. You smile, just knowing he tried was enough.

Namjoon screams your name. He will always be your hero no matter what.

You look up in his direction again and hold out your hand, manipulating the air in an attempt to slow him down, all the times he produced craters when trying for a soft landing replaying in your mind, but the super powered hero is flying too quickly, cutting right through your efforts, desperate to get to you.

You shut your eyes.

This is going to hurt.

Jungkook side swipes you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you disappear right before Namjoon’s eyes.

How many craters has it been? Add one more to the tally.

---

You catch your breath, finally sitting up. “Is V not coming?” Jungkook hopped you immediately to Yoongi and Jin, the four of you all falling to the ground like bowling pins at the impact. Jungkook has a knack for strikes.

“He needs an alibi, he is going to be answering questions with the press.”

You huff, Taehyung should be here too, it’s his damn narrative. “Ready?” Yoongi asks the group, his eyes narrowing in on you.

Yoongi reveals his cell, showing off a map with a dozen large dots moving through the streets. “I don’t know if I can take anymore of this,” Jungkook whines wearily.

“You know, all this ended up being perfect practice for hopping into a moving location, yeah?” All three men glare at you. “Err no?”

Jungkook psyches himself up, jumping up and down. “Argh okay!”

“After that, a speeding vehicle can’t be that hard. Just don’t hop us inside of anyone,” Jin teases, grabbing onto the teleporter.

“WHAT. That’s a thing?! He’s done that?” you ask, horrified, pulling your hand back, unwilling to grab onto Jungkook.

“No!” Jungkook yells. “Okay, well, it wasn’t a person. I-I was a kid. Dammit, why did you have to remind me, Jin!”

You gag. A doe-eyed young Jungkook covered from head-to-toe in animal carcass like some tiny serial killer was not something you wanted to imagine at all. Jin laughs at you.

“Jungkook, c’mon, me and y/n got you,” Yoongi reassures as Jungkook concentrates on the map, anxiety and strain clearly present on his features.

“Me too!” Jin says. You grab Jin’s hand and place your other hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Yeah bunny, let’s hop, we got you,” you repeat, winking as you and Yoongi send energy into your teleporting friend.

Jungkook focuses, imagines the streets, the cars, the very exact target rolling down the highway, passing an intersection. With Jin’s help and his powers tapping into the target’s mind, and Jungkook’s overactive imagination, Jungkook can visualize everything so perfectly. It takes only a few seconds to really see…feel the differences between here and there, now and then.

So much in the world to see yet Jungkook can’t be in two places at a time, however two places at a moment's notice? That, he is excellent at!

There’s so much energy whirling around your group, Jungkook vanishes you all in a crackle of electricity.

‘What have you gotten yourself into, y/n.’ Namjoon thinks, zooming to your location.

He found you just in time to see you vanish. And then, like a lightning bolt himself, RM flies into the sky.

---

“Ahh!”

You couldn’t blame their frightful fits, four hooded figures appearing out of thin air like a demon quartet inside the politician’s special armored vehicle would make even the most hardened armed guards yell out of surprise.

“Pull over!” he yells to his driver.

“I c-can’t!” his driver yells back, desperately pulling on the steering wheel that’s locked into position, stomping on brakes that have no more give. Yoongi smirks, in the passenger’s seat. He runs his fingers over the car’s dash, revving the engine. “The car is not going to listen to you.”

Guns are drawn, but the triggers have already been locked by you.

Click.

Click Click Click.

This is the most uncomfortable ride of your life sans murder attempt, you’re squished in between Jungkook and Jin, practically in their laps. “I’m just gonna-” you wiggle your fingers in front of you and everyone’s weapons land in the laps of the men beside you, who each grab their favorite and put the safety switches back off, smirking.

His secretary tries to dial the emergency number on her cell but thanks to Yoongi, the cell tower has decided not to respond. You freeze everyone’s limbs in the caravan, making things easier.

“I heard rumors of this city, but I can’t believe it's real,” the mayor stutters, body locked and his eyes bulging.

“Rumors, what kind?” you ask, intrigued.

“Super…villains.”

“Eh?!”

“Get it done,” Yoongi grunts, watching the other dots on his cell move throughout the city.

“Hello Mayor,” Jin speaks. “I’m glad I could catch an audience with you before you left our beautiful city. Seeing as we both share an invested interest in our neighboring habitats, as you demonstrated at today’s rally,” he says, landing a hand on his shoulder and the politician’s eyes glaze over, “this will only take a moment.”

Everyone else stares at your group like the undead, it creeps you out. so you shut their eyes, pulling off your hood. “This thing is itchy, I hate it.”

“We should wear eye masks instead,” Jungkook suggests.

“No masks!” You and Yoongi speak in unison.

“All good!” Jin says cheerfully as he removes his hand.

“He’s pissing himself.” Jungkook complains.

“Ew!” you groan, the smell of pee filling the confined space.

“They do that most of the time, don’t they?” Yoongi grimaces.

“These guys are so old it's amazing they have any control of their bladders,” Seokjin huffs.

“Can’t you, like, stop it,” Jungkook whines at you.

“Ew! No way!” you retort back. “What did you do to him?” you ask, the politician’s eyes still look unfocused and scared, shell-shocked.

“Just had a nice long chat,” Jin says, which didn’t make any sense to you, barely a minute had passed, but you guess it was another one of Jin’s mind games he likes to play. “We worked out a great deal! Right?” Jin warns. The petrified man in front of you can’t really move without your permission, but he squeaks out a small sound of agreement.

“Like I explained, we don’t want to hurt you. We just want your support,” he says, patting the politician’s knee. “But we can hurt you.”

You tighten his tie with your powers, constricting the politician's throat with his own party colors.

“And find you, wherever you go.” Jin’s voice drops to a lower register and it has a terrifying effect.

Terrifying and sexy, you think. The mind reader rarely acts this serious. It’s a hot look on him. You truly hope Jin is too busy to pay attention to your next thoughts. Jin leans back and puts his arm over your shoulder, dashing your hopes.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks, turning around to peer at Yoongi’s map once more.

The car stops abruptly. So abruptly everyone is thrown forward and backward, but you have the forethought to catch your bodies before any damage happens.

You turn around, ready to yell at Yoongi for the abrupt stop and see dark brown eyes, a determined scowl, and RM standing with his hands on the front hood.

“I know we can count on your support,” Jin warns.

“How the hell did he find us?”

“Your damn earrings!” Yoongi yells.

“Don’t blame me!” you pout. “You said you took out the trackers!”

“I did! So why is there one in there?!” Yoongi yells back, realizing the new devices installed.

“Maybe RM put them back in during one of your little sleep overs,” Seokjin whispers in your ear.

“Your what?”

“J-Jungkook now!” you yell.

In a coordinated effort you all reach for one another, hands interlocking and disappearing right as RM crashes his fist into the windshield.

The chase is on.

Roads are backed up, city traffic is worse than usual while everyone tries to leave the arena, and driving a couple blocks is taking five times longer than usual.

But RM can fly.

And JK can move through space and time.

It takes mere minutes between targets. Though, the time you experience dreading RM causing another commotion while waiting on Jin really feels like an eternity.

Ugh, you wish Namjoon didn’t have to wreck every car he managed to track you guys to. He’s really blowing the whole point of this plot, discreetness has gone out the window, or rather his fist is going through the window, and the convoy of police vehicles already surrounding the rather important politician is realizing the enemy had already snuck inside their barrier, turning their sights and guns to the scene.

What will the media say this time? No one was supposed to see you guys or know what you were up to! That was the whole point of this crazy plan, but with RM plans rarely go smoothly. At least part of your plans are succeeding, you think, as the man in front of you agrees over and over again he will be cooperative to Jin.

You pull your hood down lower, concealing your eyes.

“This is the last one, isn’t it? Still need me?” you whisper to Jungkook.

“Uhh yeah, you’re kind of crucial to us not being killed,” Jungkook whispers back.

“You have the guns, though,” you retort.

On cue RM pulls the car door off its hinges, grabbing the closest hooded figure out of the car.

Unfortunately, it’s Jungkook, and the teleporter hops out of his clothes, a new trick he’s learned after dealing with RM.

A very bare chested Jungkook appears right back where he was, hair disheveled and only a mask covering his mouth and identity now. Thank god for Yoongi no cameras are able to catch any identifying tattoos, and you are surprised to see the young teleporter has a lot.

You all reach for him in unison, hands landing on his skin. You and Jin have the same idea, both grabbing a handful of pec...and squeezing.

But RM is not to be underestimated! He wanted to stop you all, but more than that, he wanted to catch you...red-handed.

A small little device was all it took. Namjoon; who has studied up and read every book he could find on electricity, using his intellect instead of his power to try to defeat you this time, with his newfound alone time he started to make devices that might finally help him counter-attack your friends’ infuriating powers; he sets off one of those devices right inside the vehicle.

Jungkook is stunned, quite literally unable to move through the currents shocking his system.

Yoongi is overwhelmed, and by the time it is going to take him to figure out a translation to the new handmade device, with every shockwave he is experiencing, it might be too late!

You, however, could see a solution even if every shock clouded your vision.

You can’t speak, you can barely move, the stunning was impressively strong. You might have been shocked into a stupor, but in your mind, communication with Jin was perfect.

‘Jungkook!’

‘Hey…JUNGKOOK.’

At a time like this Jungkook didn’t know whether he should be grateful or cursing the fact that all he could think about was Jin’s voice instead of his friends and family and everyone he was about to let down getting so publicly arrested.

‘Jungkookie, hop us!’

‘DO YOU THINK I WASN’T TRYING?!’ Jungkook thinks back. But due to the untouchable electricity Jungkook couldn’t concentrate on even hopping himself, much less everyone else.

‘No, hop everything! Hop the entire damn car!’

THE CAR THAT WAS CURRENTLY FUCKING UP HIS POWERS? Jin wants Jungkook to bring it along for the ride, err well make it the ride? Hasn’t Jungkook done enough?! The teleporter’s inner monologue rivals the self-pity of a Greek Tragedy hero.

There is a pretty blue glow all around him, the electricity taking on a familiar trait.

Yoongi’s.

Jungkook can hear strained cries coming from you. The shocks multiplying to a painfully strong degree as the device is supercharged.

Actually it doesn't really hurt, it kind of feels like a massage, all the energy is making Jungkook feel good...powerful.

“SHIT!” Hoseok yells.

Jimin cries out, falling off his chair.

The device in the car goes haywire for a second, before completely dudding out.

You all topple out of the vehicle, reorienting yourselves with the help of Hoseok and Jimin. You grab Jungkook, stumbling with him to the rear of the caravan.

“You h-have to take it back. The caravan!”

“I can’t,” Jungkook groans, feeling sick.

You lean against his back, hugging him tightly, exhausted from using your powers to such magnitudes, and even still doing so to keep the targets frozen. “You have to,” you squeeze Jungkook, healing and powering up the teleporter one last time-

Namjoon blinks. ‘It’s invisible? Did V- No, it’s gone.’

Oh, now it’s back.

He circles the vehicle, finding you and Jungkook sprawled on the ground.

You’re lying face down, passed out over the teleporter, who shifts and tries to kick his feet away from the advancing and furious superhero. Red lasers land on Jungkook’s bare chest-

The tires deflate, hit by the bullets that would have gone through you and Jungkook if the teleporter hadn’t disappeared at that exact moment-

Namjoon stands frozen. ‘S-She’s not dead, Jungkook teleported before she could have gotten hit,’ he thinks.

You’re not dead...you’re not dead...you wouldn’t dare...

He recollects himself, focusing back on the caravan as police descend around him. He looks inside the vehicle, where a group of scared personnel and one positively petrified politician sit...and no one else. “Are you okay?! Tell me what they did to you, I can try and help-”

“Nothing! N-Nothing, they didn’t do anything,” he swallows.

The neighboring city’s mayor stumbles out of the car, screeching at his confused security. “Goddammit, what do I pay you all for?!” Namjoon watches him berate everyone, trying to gain the power he had momentarily been stripped of.

“I can help you,” Namjoon says slow and reassuringly as if her were talking to a temper tantrum-ing child. “If you explain what happened, I can stop them.” Namjoon was frustratingly hitting dead ends as no politician would let him in on what your group was doing, and if there was no crime to report...

“Mayor! Please listen-”

“I-If you’re gonna stop them, then s-stop them! Otherwise leave m-me out of it!”

Namjoon clenches his jaw, eyeing one security guard who looks like he’s on the verge of quitting...

---

“Today is the worst day of my life.”

“What about that time you teleported your hand through a fence and we had to take you to the hospital?”

“Or the time you teleported to that volcano?”

“It was inactive,” Hoseok reminds Jimin.

“Excuse me, the worst day of your life? Did you get shot?” you grunt. Jungkook holds up his arm angrily. “That’s just a graze.”

“Yours is just a graze.”

“Mine is deeper,” you pull Hoseok’s hand away, and blood gushes out from the cut across your hip. “Ow ow ow! See!”

“Can’t you heal it?” Hoseok asks, holding the compress to your side.

“God, I have to do everything around here!” you whine. “I’m tired!” You would still be passed out if you hadn’t woken up from the excruciating pain.

“Should we take them to a doctor?” Yoongi asks Jin.

“Ehh they seem to be okay?” The two oldest watch as the others dote on you and Jungkook, the both of you making convincing arguments as to why you need to be carried in Hoseok’s arms to the couch and why Jungkook needs Jimin to hand-feed him food.

---

You stretch, waking up from your nap, delicately removing yourself from Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s embrace, and finding the teleporter eating his third bowl of ramen. “Jungkook, hop me to RM!”

“What? Are you crazy? That last time he looked ready to kill me!”

“I will actually kill you if you d-”

“Y/n, I need to debrief with you,” Taehyung calls out to you, entering the quarters.

Oh there he is, so untraumatized from the whole day’s ordeal, you can’t help but glare at him. “Can’t Jin-”

“No,” Taehyung says sternly, “You, y/n.”

You cross your arms, deciding in which direction you should hurl Taehyung away from you. He crosses his arms too, standing tall, stepping into your space.

“Alright,” you huff, rolling your eyes. He’s lucky you find the authoritative look so hot. You glance at the mind reader, he better not be listening to you. You bump Taehyung’s shoulder as you head for his room, not wanting to wake the others.

“What I don’t understand is how RM found you all so fast?” he asks rhetorically, leaning against his work desk after you explained everything (well, clearly not everything), the two of you alone in his old small office quarters. You stay quiet. “What did I say about wearing those earrings on missions-”

“‘Y/n, don’t wear those earrings on missions,’” you lower your voice as low as you can, mimicking Taehyung’s deep timber.

Taehyung’s eyebrow twitches. You cross your arms. “I didn’t know! If you’re going to blame someone, blame Yoongi! Tech is his specialty, is it not?”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you and Jungkook almost died, because of RM. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Jungkook had waited only a second longer-”

You wanted to argue with him, tell him people almost die all the time. That technically it wasn’t RM’s fault, it was Taehyung’s fault for making you all do this in the first place, and that Taehyung has no right to look at you with those accusing eyes of his, just because you weren’t going to stop wearing the present Namjoon gave you. How were you supposed to know he was going to put the trackers back in while you were sleeping, it was kind of impressive actually-

“Everything could have been ruined-”

“You have the support,” you argue. “What more do you want?”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, glancing over at you...you, he wants to say. But the way his eyes refuse to look away says enough, making you feel guilty. You decide to change the subject.

“They are catching on though...” you murmur, moving closer to him. “About our powers. We all have to be even more careful.”

“Let them talk, they should feel a little fear. It’s all rumors still. Nothing will hit the news circuit, I will make sure of it.”

“And what if it does come back to you, dear Mayor,” you cross your arms, spitting out the title. “Isn’t that what you have been trying to avoid, by making us do all the dirty work?”

Taehyung smiles at you rather than matching your ire. He pulls off his tie and jacket, removing the stuffy formal clothes. “I appreciate that you help me...us...that you do this for us. Even if you are...compromised,” he says begrudgingly. “You kept my friends alive, and that means more to me...”

‘If he thinks touching your cheek like that and giving you those eyes is going to smooth things over, he’s wrong!’ you think, annoyed and flustered from the attention. You smack his hand away. “My money? You also owe me for fixing the floor...and the table,” you add, looking over at the newly cleaned hide out space after the “car crash” that happened inside.

“Done.” You turn to leave but Taehyung pulls you back. “Before you go running off into the night…” He stops, holding your attention, “...I wanted to show you something.”

He goes over to his desk, pulling out a file, and showing you a bunch of complicated diagrams, but you get the gist of it. Compared to all the other cities, recycling is up, pollution is down, renewable energy use is up, violent crime is down, it's all very impressive data for such a big industrial city. “I just wanted to remind you...why we had to do that...we are doing good-”

“I know that,” you frown, sighing. “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

You don’t have to say his name, Taehyung already knows who you’re talking about. You won’t seem let it go...him go. You desperately want RM on your side.

Taehyung sighs. You sit in his leather chair, putting your feet up on his desk, looking through the figures again, humming. It does make you happy to see the city so drastically improving, Taehyung doesn't have to know that though (you threaten Seokjin just in case he’s listening).

“How are you and Yoongi?” You catch Taehyung looking at your legs.

“Me and Yoongi? I am great, Yoongi is great. Why don’t you ask Yoongi?” You stiffen. Actually, he seemed pretty upset at you...

Taehyung laughs, “Funny, he said basically the same thing.”

“Well, he’s my favorite for a reason,” you speak apathetically, worried Taehyung will try to use him against you like he does with everything else.

Taehyung smirks down at you knowingly. You cross your arms, wheeling your chair around “Is there anything else before I go, Mayor?”

Taehyung scoffs, leaning over you until you’re caged in, his hands pressing down on the chair’s armrests. He looks down at you, serious, no sly smile or hint of playfulness anymore.

“You really like throwing that in my face. You know, when The Mayor died, because of you by the way, we all decided I was going to run,” he gestures to the cracked door, where you can hear the others argue over...food? Again?! “Do you think I enjoy being in the limelight like this, every little thing I do being scrutinized for everyone to see?”

His face is too close to you, his eyes watch you like he’s peering through you…inside you. “I think you do, and so what? You’re good at it.” You compliment him to smooth down the tension. It's also true, Taehyung is ridiculously charismatic when he wants to be, and great at convincing people to do what he wants, he convinced you...and maybe you hold it against him, the way you always seem to help him get exactly what he wants. Especially when he says things like...

“I feel like you hate me now...” he laughs, unable to hide his sadness and making you feel guilty in the process. “Is it because I keep beating your superhero?”

You break eye contact first, scoffing, following the lines of his jaw down, the top two buttons of Taehyung’s shirt now undone, giving you a glimpse of his chest. By now you are used to everyone else being in your personal space, but not Taehyung.

It feels...different when he gets so close to you. It feels forbidden.

Maybe Joon’s disdain for V affects you more than you want to admit-

“I don’t hate you...” you swallow, leaning back as he gets closer. “I...I...just don’t like you.” You decide it’s easier to keep Taehyung at a distance, so you lie. You don’t trust him, or yourself, when you’re around him.

Taehyung stares at you in surprise. “You liar!” he laughs.

“Go ask Jin then!” you challenge, you know Jin is going to tell him you’re lying, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t made it confusing. Taehyung huffs, and then vanishes before your eyes. You barely caught a glimpse of the anger in his expression, now unsure whether you witnessed it at all.

You try to stand up but Taehyung hasn't actually left, and you bump into him. “You want to know why I don’t like you?” you ask, pushing against his chest. “I know you have Yoongi keeping tabs on me, Jungkook watching me, even Jimin following me acting like a stray, like it’s a crime to want to leave, like I’m not allowed to be on my own. Taehyung…I am never ever going to stop wanting to see my friend!”

You feel Taehyung’s hot breath against the shell of your ear when he whispers, “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt, y/n. Namjoon is going to hurt you. He always hurts you. It may not always be like today, where we can see it,” you can feel his hand nudge carefully against your healing scar, “but we can all tell you’re hurting...”

Somehow that last part stings worse than your injury.

His invisibility powers makes Taehyung more confident, daring, adding, “I would never hurt you like that.”

“You say that now…but your powers can’t show the future,” you say quietly. “I-I just want to take my money and go-”

“Go where, to Kim Namjoon?! Dammit y/n, you think he’s going to be happy to see you after today…”

“Why are you being like this?!”

“Because I can’t stop! I can’t stop worrying about you…thinking about you…caring about you...” You feel something soft graze your jaw.

You stay quiet, biting your tongue. You can’t see Taehyung, but it’s like you can feel him everywhere. The chair tilts as he moves himself against you, your arms and legs bumping into his body as you try to balance yourself. You’re not sure what you’re touching but it’s hard and muscled and warm and makes your breath hitch.

You knew Taehyung had grown a particular liking to you for your powers, and you also knew he was a big flirt, but sometimes his honeyed words would catch you off guard, make you wonder if the sweetness oozing from his lips was genuine, and you would have to catch yourself from wanting a taste.

“I’m okay, Taehyung,” you say under your breath, “You don’t have to worry.”

Taehyung appears right in front of you, startling you how close he really was to you, lips right next to yours. “No, ‘Mayor’? Looks like we’re making progress, y/n.” He smirks, his smirk quickly turning into a smile.

You scoff. “You are such a little brat. What do you really want from me, Kim Taehyung?”

“What I’ve always wanted,” he glances down at your lips. “Just you.” The back of his fingers run along your chin. “For once, don’t go to him and stay with me tonight?”

Namjoon liked to tell you how ruthless, how dangerous and evil Taehyung is. Part of you wanted to believe Namjoon…to actually hate Taehyung, it would make things so much easier if you could see what Namjoon sees. But you don’t. So what if he’s opportunistic and vengeful, or willing to do anything to win? Taehyung is a lot like you.

---

You finish showering, wiping the condensation off your mirror. Scalding water felt the best, and tonight, you needed the hot steam and soothing lavender soap to calm you down.

“Jimin! I forgot my towel!”

Jimin brings you a towel in his mouth, having shifted into a small brown dachshund. He shakes his tail happily at you. You know your roommate only stays with you so Taehyung can keep tabs on you, but Jimin is so damn cute when he transforms! You don’t even mind it! He barks twice before leaving, ugh, he’s adorable!

You went home after talking with Taehyung, deciding you wanted to have a night to yourself after all, feeling confused and worst of all, guilty for passing out at the most inconvenient time and almost getting the teleporter seriously injured.

You pull on a satin pair of pajamas, a lacy trimmed tank top and shorts, turning on your tea kettle to make Jimin and you some hot tea.

You sigh, looking down at dachshund Jimin, “Some watch dog you are,” you mutter, picking him up. He licks your face. “I don’t forgive you, traitor,” you accuse, before dropping him down again.

“I know you’re here, I can feel you,” you yell into your empty apartment. You close your eyes, it’s easier to concentrate that way. Was he by your couch, no, where did that sneak move to?

“What do you think? If I tear your body to pieces while you’re like this do they reanimate or will you just be invisible forever so they’ll never find you?” you threaten.

A loud knock at the door stops your thoughts and you whip your head around. You knew who it was, unfortunately. There was no mistaking the size and strength of the particular grouping of molecules that made up the superhero shaped figure stalking around your door. You definitely had to smooth things out with the tech talker so he could remove the earring tracker again.

Jimin growls behind your back, transformed into the largest Doberman you’ve ever seen. “Oh now you wanna guard me? Go to your room, Jimin!” you hiss.

“And don’t fucking move! Wherever you are!” You whisper at your uninvited guest.

Moving to the door, you open it up to a not so friendly face. Joon stands tall in a sweater and jeans, an annoyed glare behind thick frames.

You look him up and down stopping at his new glasses, “Break another pair?”

He stares at you blankly. Did he come all this way to give you the silent treatment?

You step into the hallway with him, shivering. If there wasn’t a certain moppy headed menace in your new apartment with a vendetta against your ex friend you would have pulled Namjoon in by now, but you couldn’t risk it.

“Were you- Are you okay?” he asks, getting his concerns out of the way.

“I was grazed by a bullet,” you smile meekly.

“What?” Namjoon falters, concern spreading over his features.

“Oh, it was bad,” you tease. “I’m lucky I’m alive.”

“Don’t joke-”

You laugh softly, feeling a little less unburdened over his anger at you. “Well I’m fine now, so don't worry,” you smile. “Did you hurt yourself when you landed?” you reach out to touch his shoulder.

Namjoon grabs your hand before you can touch him, back to business. “I need you to come with me-”

“Are you asking me out?” you joke.

“I need you to come with me and tell every one of those people you hurt that when they go to vote next session, they can vote freely without any fear something will happen to them or their families-”

“We wouldn’t hurt their families...”

“Y/n!”

“If you want me to go with you, I will, but it won’t change their minds,” you argue. “You know it too. Just let this one go, Joon, we beat you this time.”

‘We,’ the way you say it breaks Joon. He shakes his head no, holding your wrist tighter.

The tea kettle starts to whistle. “Did you want some tea?”

“Seriously? You can act like nothing happened, after what they did, what you did to-”

You sigh defeatedly, massaging your brow to stop the forming headache. Why does Taehyung always have to be right, it can be so damn infuriating…

“But you don’t mind when I’m helping you, when you’re using me to undermine The Mayor? Suddenly, it’s okay to be around someone you find so despicable, right?!” you yell, your anger getting the best of you.

Namjoon touches your cheek, turning you to meet his eyes again, letting all the words he wants to say sit on his tongue.

‘I don't think that,’ ‘Do you know how worried I was about you?’ ‘I was losing my mind,’ ‘Please, just stop what you're doing, I will forgive you if you just! stop!’ “Y/n...”

Namjoon grabs your arms, pushing you back inside your apartment. “I know he’s in here with you.”

Well, he was, but not for any weird reason Namjoon was currently processing through right now. “I saw the kettle move. V!”

You look over your shoulder at the silenced kettle. Idiot. But you knew Taehyung was no idiot. You knew he did it on purpose, and that pissed you off even more.

“No-” Namjoon presses, pushing past you. You move in front to stop him, using more than your physical strength to match his own. “It w-was Jimin!”

On cue, a very human Jimin walks out in his boxers, glaring at the superhero. “Y/n, do you need my help?”

“N-No! G-Go put on a shirt!” you hiss, embarrassed at his lack of clothes. You turn back around to face Joon, who is preoccupied, eyes scanning your home for any movement. “Joon...”

Ugh, you just wanted to relax tonight! Screw this! “You know what?! If you want to get back at V, don’t try to change their minds, just make sure they can’t vote.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin calls out your name in warning, scanning the room slowly.

You look around your apartment, trying to pinpoint Taehyung, walking around the superhero who follows your movement. “Why do you think we could blackmail them? They’re corrupt, obviously. Expose them if you really want to try and stop us. Get them arre-”

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Namjoon.” Jimin warns, his eyes flashing an intense yellow, pupils shifting into slits, resembling a cat’s eyes.

“Bring her back, V,” Namjoon growls, reaching out to where you just stood, touching only air.

Taehyung’s hand covers your mouth, your kitchen knife held to your throat. You put your hand over his, pulling at his fingers slowly so you can speak.

“Joon, I’m fine, listen to Jimin-”

“Show me!” Namjoon tries to pinpoint where he heard your voice. And to your surprise, Taehyung reveals the pair of you before hiding you once again.

“You really want to piss him off, huh?” you whisper under your breath to Taehyung, laughing bitterly as Namjoon’s shocked expression turns into fury.

“You did it, you compromised us for what? A nod of approval from someone who only ‘uses you’ to undermine me...your words!” He hisses back.

“You use me, you asshole. And maybe I’m tired of being used, so screw you both!”

“Y/N!” Namjoon roars.

Taehyung pushes you into the superhero, letting him see you. “Y-You’re bleeding!” Namjoon looks over your body for any other marks. Jimin’s eyes go wide in surprise, darkening back to his usual color.

“Oh. Yeah,” you wipe the small line of blood off your neck, healing yourself quickly. “See, I’m fine.”

Namjoon holds you tightly. “You’re coming with me-”

“You won’t win that way-”

“W-Well, I’m not leaving you alone with them!”

You laugh, a sudden warmth in your chest returning at the frightful concern in his eyes, “I’ll be okay Joon, trust me,” you hug him suddenly, whispering into his ear, “Go, you’re going to need to work fast if you want to beat us, right?”

‘Us’ again, Namjoon thinks bitterly. Namjoon holds your head in his large hands, rubbing away the smudged blood from your neck. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he might have kissed you in that moment.

You glare at the spot over Namjoon’s shoulder, lifting your hand away from Joon, a knife reanimates and flies into the kitchen, clanking to the ground close to Jimin, making the shapeshifter yelp. Namjoon tries to punch V, only swinging at air, “I can take care of myself,” you reiterate, shoving Joon away and closing the door shut with your mind as he escapes.

“Okay okay, you can’t blame me for trying to kill him,” Taehyung reanimates in front of you, an apologetic smile on his annoying face.

“You are insufferable. I can’t stand you. You’re the worst-”

“Jimin, wake up Jungkook and tell him he needs to have eyes and ears on our new friends until I can get my bill passed, now it’s going to be out of our jurisdiction so he needs to be careful-”

“-All that bullshit before about being worried about me-”

“-Then in the morning let Yoongi know he needs to monitor any new police record requests-”

Jimin clears his throat. “Y/n, are you okay?” Jimin asks you wearily before Taehyung goes any further.

“Like I said, I’m fine,” you glare at Taehyung when you say it, finally nodding at Jimin and giving him a weak smile to let him know you’re okay. “So what now, asshole? Gonna try and stab me in the back next?”

“Like you did to us? But I know you’ll stop me before anything really happens to you,” Taehyung says a matter-of-factly. “C’mon, you weren’t in any real danger. I would never actually hurt you, obviously.”

You have half a mind to just let him brutally maim you out of spite. The way Jimin ignored him meant he wasn’t too impressed with what Taehyung did to you either, could you turn him against Taehyung for you?

A hawk lands on your shoulder, Jimin’s beak knocking against your jaw, “I’m okay,” you laugh, “He wasn’t actually pressing hard.” Hawk Jimin lands on Taehyung’s shoulder next, ruffling his feathers, listening to the rest of his instructions before leaving out the window.

“Y/n, I’m sorry-”

“I just took a shower,” you whine.

Taehyung wets a wash cloth, cleaning the dried blood off your skin. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “But I had to think fast, and you left me with little options.”

“And your first thought just had to be kidnapping with a deadly weapon? You drive me crazy.”

Taehyung chuckles, deep, soft, comforting, his fingers delicately working to help you now that Namjoon was gone. Taehyung’s specific type of comfort wasn’t what you really wanted, but it was better than nothing. You glance over at him as he silently works to clean you up.

“I’m not sorry,” you mutter, sulking.

“Oh I know damn well you’re not,” Taehyung mutters too.

“Why did you come here in the first place? I promised you, didn’t I?”

“Looks like it happened anyways...I know I said I would give you space...I...couldn't stay away.” Taehyung looks lost, unsure about what to say next, there’s no confident banter you’re used to from him.

“So needy...” you raise your eyebrow at him. You said it lightly, only teasing him, seeing if you could get him to crack a smile after the intense show down. And he does.

“...and we’re not even dating.”

“Not yet,” he smirks.

“Funny, how about we go a day without trying to kill each other first?”

“I can do that,” he says confidently.

---

Jimin is purring, cuddled against your head as an orange tabby cat. You scratch his ears and he purrs even louder. “Where are we?” This bed is huge and definitely not yours. Jimin stretches his cat body and jumps off the bed, hiding away because he knows you’re going to be mad at the answer.

You quickly put two and two together, noticing the opulence in the room, the only other place you could be was at Mayor Kim’s mansion.

“Where is Jungkook?” you find Taehyung in his study.

“Out cleaning up your mess, why?”

“Because I promised him I would break his fingers if he hopped me without my permission again.”

“I asked him to, so-” Taehyung holds out his palm to you, continuing to write down notes with his other hand.

You should. You really really want to.

“And why did you do that?”

“Because I needed to work.”

You try not to raise your voice with your next question, “And why am I here?”

“Until the bill is passed, you’ll stay with me,” he states, going back to his note taking.

“And why would I agree to that?!” You scream, poise and restraint now long gone.

Taehyung crosses his arms. “Because I can say with a hundred percent certainty you will somehow find a way to mess this up even more if I let you out of my sight.”

His desk begins to shake, the pictures in his office tilting askew. “You think you can keep me here?”

“You’ll do what I say, because I’ll tell the others what you did and as much as you like to pretend you don’t care about what they think of you-”

“Shh.” You hold up a finger, shutting Taehyung’s mouth with your powers.

You look around his office. The decor is tasteful and elegant, expensive antiques and gold finishing. Taehyung fits right in with his dignified demeanor. But you don’t belong here…and you don’t want to.

“Mayor Kim…” you step closer to your immobilized cohort, circling his desk. “You could have just asked nicely.” You take a seat on said desk, crunching the paper under you. You grab the tip of his tie wrapping it one, two, three times around your palm, pulling him closer to you.

“I’ve played along, haven’t I? Don’t make me your enemy.” You finally let your telekinetic hold on Taehyung go.

“RM is the enemy,” he swallows.

“Joon is not my enemy-”

“But he is though, y/n. You can’t be so naïve-” You yank his tie to the side, his head pressing painfully on the wood next to you. He breathes through his teeth, glaring up at you.

“And you’re so wise? Then choose your next words wisely, Taehyung.”

Taehyung grunts, palm flat on your thigh, pressing down as he tries to lift himself up unsuccessfully.

There is really only one man strong enough to fight your power.

His fingers curl into the flesh of your thigh, catching you off guard. “Did you forget our promise to each other?”

You roll your eyes, letting his tie go and crossing your arms. “You’re making it very hard for me to even like you-”

“Not that promise,” he says, fingers still gripping at your thigh. “The one we made to each other the day you asked me to help you kill The Mayor.”

-VOWS-

“Have you ever killed someone before?” Taehyung crosses his arms, looking you up and down. You would have normally faltered under his scrutinizing gaze, but you had let go of your shame in your desperation.

Should you lie? Make him believe you had no reservations. You had a feeling he would be able to see right through your lies even without Seokjin’s assistance. “No.”

Taehyung’s office had high windows and bad lighting, but the moon was full and the blinds were broken. Streaks of moonlight covered the walls of Taehyung’s office, striping the shadows where he stood.

It took you all day to build up the courage to ask Seokjin to take you to see Taehyung. You knew it was going to be no easy task to convince Taehyung and the others with the way Seokjin’s normally cocky demeanor darkened when your initial shock wore off and your intentions were clear.

Taehyung shakes his head. “We’re all going to have targets on our backs if we do this and he doesn’t die. Also, if we do go through with what you want… Y/n, you’re asking us to become murderers-”

“I’m not asking you to! I’m asking you to help me… You help me do this, and I’ll help you.”

“With what?”

“With anything,” you swallow, resolute. “I have to do this. He’s going to…he’s going to hurt Joon if I don’t do something!”

“I know.” Taehyung says impassively, “You know, that would solve all my problems, I won’t have to worry about RM anymore. So what do I even get out of helping you? What is worth putting all of us in danger to save Kim Namjoon?”

You look at him in disbelief. You want to tell Taehyung to go to hell, but you have no idea how to stop The Mayor on your own without getting caught. You need his help. “You brought me here! Why would you kidnap me, have Seokjin show me those things-”

“You’re not listening, so let me ask you again, what will you do for me-”

“What! What do you want?! I said I’d do anything!” Your eyes sting as you blink away tears in your frustration. “Taehyung, please,” you cry.

“Everything. Not anything, from now on, I want you to help us with everything.” He grips your shoulders tight. “Then, I will kill The Mayor for you myself if I have to.”

You swallow, mentally working through Taehyung’s conditions and confession. The way he said it so ardently, you wonder…if Taehyung has killed before. “No, I’ll do it.”

For Namjoon, to protect him, you would do the absolute worst without any regrets.

---

You look down at Taehyung’s long slender fingers, splayed across your thigh, resigning to his touch. “I haven’t forgotten.” You lie back, stretching out your arms, sighing. You are very aware you are making a mess of his carefully stacked memos and you don’t care. “What if I promise to be a good girl from now on? Cross my heart.” You wink, using your powers to move Taehyung’s fingers in an X across your thigh.

He licks his lips, watching as his fingers trace along your skin. “Oh but I know you’re not” Taehyung’s eyes narrow on your sly smile, his fingers moving higher up your thigh. “You like to play the part, but you always end up being…” he coughs, “bad.”

“Maybe,” you say flippantly. “Or maybe you don’t give me much of a choice.” You glare at him.

He leans over his desk and over you, caging you in. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. I’ve watched you torturing people with a smile on your face.”

You sigh, giving up again. “People. People or monsters?”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, y/n. That’s why we make a good team,” he smiles, gripping your knee instead and shaking your leg reassuringly. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“I don’t mean to upset you, but…do you think Namjoon would ever give you the same grace? I wish you would see what’s in front of you…”

His hand moves to your cheek, holding you gently. His lips touch yours so softly and leave so quickly the act could barely qualify as a kiss.

Taehyung had been so gentle with you, which made the following brutality hurt even worse.

“If Namjoon knew how you really were, would he think you were a monster? If he saw what I saw that night, and what you did in that room over there,” Taehyung turns your chin so you have to look. The door to the adjoining room is shut and locked. Taehyung keeps the small study room closed, because even he can barely stomach the memory. “Would he touch you like this?” his lips press against your cheek.

“Jimin,” you grunt, cuddling the napping feline close to you. “Turn back into a human, please, I...need you.” Jimin transforms, his limbs tangling around yours, pulling you into an embrace.

“You know Tae is not as bad as you think he is, he’s helped me so many times, give him a chance to prove himself-”

“Bad…good…I don’t care, right now he’s being a pain in my ass,” you mumble, burying your head in Jimin’s chest where it’s warm and cozy and his steady heartbeat calms you down.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Jimin chuckles.

“If I hated him, would I still be here?” you mumble, resting against him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin holds you tighter when you shake, breath catching in your throat. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you don’t want to think about it and confirm your worst fears. “Can I ask you something?” you ask, looking for a distraction, perhaps some blackmail. Jimin turns his head, waiting. “Why V?”

“Why do we follow V?”

“No.” You remember the purple spray paint etched across the bank door, back when you and Namjoon were inseparable. “Why the name, V?”

Jimin laughs, sighing, “Well-”

“How’s it back home?” Taehyung asks as Jungkook and Yoongi reappear with a week’s supply of homemade food in their arms, a gift from Jungkook’s mother.

“It’s getting worse,” Yoongi sighs. “Some parts can’t even cook with it.”

‘It,’ being their town’s water supply. Yoongi and Jungkook just finished their weekly trip to drop off cases of water to their families and friends. “And if that new bill goes through…I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Well, you are thinking about it, quite loudly,” Seokjin interjects, rubbing his eyes.

The group sits quietly together. “Should we try another petition?” Hoseok suggests, optimistic.

Everyone knows it won’t work. They all knew what had to be done, but Taehyung was the only one courageous enough to say it.

“No…” Taehyung sighs, glancing over at Jin, knowing he could see the idea he had in mind. “We’ve tried it their way, now let’s do it our way.”

Jungkook cracks his knuckles. “What did you have in mind?”

Suddenly Seokjin laughs, gathering everyone’s attention. “This guy not only wants us to kidnap The Mayor, he wants us to rob a bank and blow up the courthouse.”

“Blow it up?!”

“Wait, rob a bank? Like…bank robbers?”

“Me and Jungkook have discussed it before,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “We can do it…with your help, Yoongi.” Taehyung turns to the tech talker, who seems to be mulling the idea over.

“But The Mayor, you really think we can get away with it? It’s-”

“Dangerous.” Seokjin finishes Jungkook’s thought.

“Dangerous and high-profile. I thought we are supposed to be keeping a low-profile,” Jimin reminds them.

“We’ve tried everything else,” Taehyung interjects. “Haven’t we? Maybe it’s time we make a scene.”

“And if we get caught….you’re asking us to commit about seven different felonies,” Seokjin says.

“The Mayor is too risky,” Jimin interjects again.

“We can do this! Jin?” he asks Seokjin, hoping for backup.

“I’m definitely not The Mayor’s biggest fan, but this…”

“You’ve looked through his mind, tell me if there is another way to convince him.” Jin rubs his jaw, stretching his neck, thinking it over. “This is for our families too, not just us this time. This is a chance to really make a difference. A huge difference!” Taehyung tries to convince him.

“If anything goes wrong-”

“Then Jungkook and I will get you out, no matter what, right?” Taehyung catches the youngest’s gaze and he nods.

He looks around the group, adding. “Just like any other time. We can do this.”

“This is not like any other time,” Jimin whines.

“We were almost arrested at the last protest.” Taehyung says bitterly. “They want us to be criminals so badly, so why don’t we?”

Hoseok crosses his arms. “You’re asking us to be a little more than criminals-”

“I’m in.” Yoongi speaks first, surprising everyone.

“I’m in,” Seokjin adds immediately after, coughing. “I try not to hold people’s thoughts against them, but…” He looks around the room, “Taehyung’s right, The Mayor only cares about money, he’s not going to change his mind.”

Taehyung tries to hide his smile unsuccessfully. “They think they have all the power. But the six of us here? We have real power, we just have to be willing to use it against them.”

“You forget…RM…” Jimin adds. “What if he gets involved?”

“Against all of us? Six against one? He’ll never see us coming!”

“But he’s a superhero,” Jungkook says with a mixture of awe and worry. “How are we supposed to beat him?”

“We’ll we’re– uh,” Taehyung falters. “We have super powers too, don’t we?” Taehyung sighs. “RM and The Mayor have control of this city, but they don’t know it like us, we’re in the streets every day.”

“What are you saying?”

Seokjin laughs quietly, breaking the silence, “...I’m not wearing a cape.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “You want us to be superheroes?”

“No,” Seokjin says, staring at Taehyung.

“No,” Taehyung says. “They’ll never see us as heroes.” He sighs, leaning back.

Hoseok frowns. Jungkook nervously taps his foot and Yoongi crosses his arms. Jimin looks around the room at everyone’s solemn expressions and Seokjin laughs, breaking the tension.

“We’re going to be super-”

“-Villains.” Seokjin finishes.

“I’ll be their villain. I’ll be, V.” Taehyung adds, “So will you help me?”

Seokjin tsks, “RM vs. V? I’ll put some money on that. But I guess first we’re gonna have to steal it.”

“Tell us your plan, then, V.” Hoseok crosses his arms.

“Yeah, V.” Jungkook chimes in, laughing. And everything goes back to normal for the time being.

“Hmmm.” You play with Jimin’s fingers, “Not super subtle, is it? And you all just agreed?”

“Yeah, we all agreed eventually, wouldn’t you?” he smiles.

You roll your eyes. Well knowing what you know now about The Mayor, it wasn’t even a question! But…

“You’re loyal,” you look at Jimin, watching as his eyes slowly shift colors. “I can respect that.” You add, “Do you ever regret it?”

“Hmm,” Jimin stretches, crossing his arms behind his head. “Nah. We all…had a difficult time growing up. Now I’m sleeping in the Mayor’s mansion with a pretty girl next to me,” he jokes. “Even if this all blows up in our faces, it was worth it.”

“You don’t mind the whole world seeing you as a ‘villain’?” you ask, trying to keep your own anxious feelings down.

“The people I love don’t see me like that.”

You frown. You wish you could say the same thing…

Jimin realizes his mistake. “We all think you’re pretty badass. I’m glad you’re on our side,” he soothes. “Listen…” He sighs, wondering if he should mention the superhero, eventually deciding to continue, “I think Namjoon will eventually-”

You scoff, “I don’t wanna talk about him, just...don’t let go.” You move closer into Jimin’s arms.

You didn’t want to think about Taehyung or Namjoon or anyone right now. You just wanted to be hugged.

“This is a panic room, not a lounge.”

“Well, you’re keeping me here like a damn prisoner, I thought I should play the part,” you dismiss, looking over the multiple camera displays with an idealistic hope you might catch a glimpse of your superhero in the sky.

“I brought in a private chef the other day-”

“I have work, you know-”

“You are always complaining about wanting a vacation!”

“Yeah, to like, The Bahamas!” you whine.

Taehyung sighs. You sigh even louder.

“How about this, I’ll take you out, I’ve been so busy with drafting proposals, I haven’t had a chance to get out either. We could go out for drinks?”

“Aren’t you worried about being recognized?”

Taehyung smiles.

You know Taehyung has to hold your hand so his powers could make you invisible too, but it still feels like his fingers interlocked with yours means something more…

You did however enjoy the feeling of weaving through bodies undetected, walking down the street together completely undetectable to the naked eye.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

“I could do this all night,” he smiles, looking in your direction. You stifle a laugh. “Seriously, lately I haven’t had a chance to use my powers. Before, I used to be invisible all the time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I felt more myself when I was.”

You guess you could relate in some ways. Growing up, you would avoid your powers like a plague, constantly afraid Namjoon would notice or that you might even lose control. But now that you freely use your powers, it feels like a relief, like you had been holding your breath all this time and you can finally fully breathe.

You still have those anxious thoughts every now and then, but it’s gotten better the longer you’ve been around Taehyung’s group.

“Saw that.”

“What?” you play coy, eating the fried dough you swiped from the food cart you and Taehyung just passed by. Taehyung sighs, stopping and pulling out some bills, dropping the money under the cart.

“Look at you,” you eye him, “Is this the same man who stole an entire suitcase full of jewelry?” you rib.

“That’s different, to someone like him, the value of losing a sale is worth more and I can afford to pay him.”

You stuff the remaining fried dough in your mouth. “Mhmm, not to that jeweler. Let’s go look at the lights!” You pull Taehyung along, running towards the water, a place in the city that has a nightly light display to music.

You want to get closer, but the crowd makes it impossible, it’s already hard enough to dodge people without causing a disturbance and freaking out the people around you. Taehyung holds you from behind as you reluctantly move further away to avoid suspicion. “Should I unmask us so you can see?”

“Hmm I could use my powers and-” You use your powers to defy gravity, as you and Taehyung’s body start to rise.

His grip around you tightens, “Ahh no no.”

You laugh, letting your powers waiver so your heels drop back down. “What, scared of flying?”

“Scared of heights,” Taehyung winces.

“Ooh, now I know one of your weaknesses,” you tease.

Taehyung scoffs, “Here, get that for me,” Taehyung gestures to a man standing close, looking at his hat, which at the precise moment blows away in the “wind.” You catch it easily as the man looks around for his missing hat. Taehyung thanks you and puts the cap on and pulls it down over his eyes before revealing himself and you.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He pulls you this time, guiding you into the crowd so you can see the lights better.

“Are you sure this is okay? What if someone recognizes you?” you whisper.

He leans in closer to you, head over your shoulder. “I’m not worried, I have a more than capable bodyguard right here.

You laugh, “Alright, if you say so,” you smile, letting him hug you from behind. This is the closest you and him have ever been, and even though you have the perfect view of the lights, it’s hard to pay attention with Taehyung wrapped around you so tightly, his hot breath hitting your cheek.

“You okay?” Of course Taehyung wouldn’t give you the luxury of ignoring your body’s traitorous responses. “Your heart is pounding.” His arms move up higher against your torso, pressing up against your breasts. “Excited?” he says teasingly.

“I haven’t seen the lights in awhile, so yeah,” you dismiss, turning your head upwards to the sky.

Taehyung chuckles, enjoying the moment.

“Y/n, I like you,” Taehyung whispers in your ear.

“Do you say that to all the girls that help you overthrow an election?”

“I liked you way before that.”

“Sure, you did,” you dismiss.

“Do you even remember when we were in school?”

“Of course I remember you.”

“No you really don’t. You were always too busy with Namjoon to notice anyone else.” Taehyung sighs. “Maybe you would have noticed I liked you then.”

“What? Don’t lie to me.”

“I did!” he defends himself, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

It was true Taehyung never bullied you like your other classmates, but he was just being kind, wasn’t he?

“You were like me, different. Even before our powers. And I liked the way you never backed down to others. I wanted to be like you. I tried to be your friend-”

“That’s not true,” you turn around, forgetting about the lights.

“Ask Jimin and Jungkook. Namjoon was like your human shield.” He runs his hand along your jawline. “And I was…not brave enough then,” he looks down.

Can you believe him? Back in school you remember Taehyung was well-liked and popular, a little eccentric sometimes and acted like a goofball with his friends, but…

You try to think back to any interactions you might have had with him-

A group of popular girls had knocked your books out of your hands. You yelled at them as they had walked away laughing. You wanted desperately to throw them down the stairs with your powers, but you calmed yourself before acting rashly, knowing you probably would have miscalculated and fatally hurt one of them…as if they didn’t deserve it!

But before you could work yourself back up again, your classmate Taehyung came and picked up your books for you, apologizing on their behalf.

God, you wish you could remember more. When you thought more about that day, you only remembered how Namjoon came bounding to you, worriedly looked you over, vowing to tell the teachers, which only made you hit him with your books before making him promise to let it go, cause no one liked a snitch!

Taehyung’s hand firm against your cheek brought your thoughts back into the moment, to his face so close to yours and his determined eyes staring down at you. You tried to find another memory, something to confirm his words, but you couldn’t. You felt glued to him in this moment, lost in his deep brown eyes, so pleadingly looking at you to believe him.

You feel so shocked you can’t move, even when his lips press against yours.

-FIVE DAYS LATER-

You and Jimin wore sunglasses and the same tight-fitted black suit, standing on both sides of the mind reader, you all really looked the part of Taehyung’s entourage.

“I’m not taking a bullet for that man,” you mutter under your breath at Yoongi, who pushes his sunglasses down to stare at you.

“I like you in a pant suit.”

“Yeah? Well cause I look better than all of you.”

“Not better than me!” Seokjin announces.

“That’s debatable,” Jimin laughs.

“Jimin, I would die for you!” You smile, and remembering security is supposed to be stoic, go back to glaring at anyone who looks in Taehyung’s direction.

There is so much controversy surrounding the bill now, every political figure is on high alert. Taehyung has to keep appearances, lest they suspect him.

“So what’s the tally now?” you ask Yoongi.

“He’s got one on a pretty damning domestic violence charge, his ex wife was all over social media accusing him, but RM finally got the DA to charge him...but he’s out on bail.”

“He can still work?!”

“Well yeah, he’s not convicted yet. Innocent until proven guilty!” Jin says sarcastically.

“What about the embezzlement guy?” Jimin asks. “The one all over the news now.”

“Oh we lost that one, looks you can beat your wife but not the feds.”

You groan. “And I guess I’m not allowed to hurt Mr. Wife Beater until the bill is passed?”

“Correct,” Taehyung says, looking over his shoulder at you. You roll your eyes.

“See you in a bit,” you whisper to Yoongi.

“See ya, don’t enjoy yourself too much,” he whispers back, hooking your pinkies together.

“Oh but I will,” you wink, teasing him before you, Jin, and Hoseok veer away from the group.

“I was kind of digging the pants suit,” you say as Hoseok hands you a backpack full of new clothes. The three of you are in one bathroom stall, changing into clothes that look less like security and more like Taehyung’s attire, a dress and suits fit for someone of elite status.

“If you peek I’ll know,” Jin says, unbuttoning his shirt.

You turn your back to him, doing the same. “Not interested,” you scoff.

“That’s a lie,” Jin says.

“Okay, human lie detector,” you groan, unbuttoning your pants.

Hoseok’s bare shoulder rubs against your naked body as he pulls on a new pair of pants.

“Hoseok, please control your thoughts,” Jin whines.

“What?” Hoseok squeaks as you step into your dress.

“Can you zip it up for me?” you turn around. Hoseok’s suit is white, a relaxed loose fit that looks perfect on him. Seokjin’s suit is devilishly red, buttoned tight around his waist, showing off his lean and tall frame. It makes perfect sense to you, their choices, an angel and devil, who would you choose to listen to tonight?

“W-Where are your clothes!”

“What do you mean?” you look down at your own dress, long, black and velvet, with sheer detailing, and a very very very high slit.

“It’s see through!”

“Whatever, it’s covering the important bits.” You fasten a diamond necklace around your neck and decide you will not be returning this ensemble to Taehyung at the end of the night. “Zip it!” Jin does it for you, teasingly slow, of course, that devil.

“Ready to play your parts?” Jin asks. You and Hoseok both nod and then you scatter into the crowd inside the art museum.

The life of the party. Hoseok chats everyone up, learning who is who, and who the important people are. Of course there is Mayor Kim tonight, a fan of art, visiting the city Museum during its charity event. There is a slew of socialites, daughters of rich men, flirting and offering Hoseok their thoughts on the artist. There is a high profile collector in attendance, and a lastly, a few lovers of art, who would have guessed?

The gaucho. Jin is loud, condescending, the worst kind of art critic. Oh, you haven’t heard of him? That sounds like a you problem. He’s the type that can sway a whole crowd with his views. A pat on the back, to look at the piece again, and suddenly they can see it too. He strategically thins the crowds around certain art pieces.

And you are, the provocateur.

“Joon!” The challenge. He looks cute, so out of place in his sweater and long coat, but somehow fitting in perfectly between the art pieces.

“Y/n, w-what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well...” you move to his side, hooking your arm under his, “I am...going to steal that,” you nod to the large art piece against the farthest wall.

Namjoon scans the area, seeing if anyone heard you. “You’re being serious?” he says in disbelief, “Are you insane? Do you think I’m going to let you?”

You lean against him. “No,” you smile. “I intend to steal it and get caught doing it. It’s a fake, Namjoon,“ you whisper, laughing, as if it were obvious.

“What?” he peers over at the painting, holding himself back from getting closer. “How can you tell?”

“Well you can’t really, that’s the point. Which I guess begs the question, what makes that one so worthless?”

“The original holds the artist’s idea...” You two walk around the room, looking at another art piece. “It just can’t be compared.”

“But, if the copy is flawless in every way, the effort it took to paint is still there...the brush strokes, the paint, the time, all add up. Yet the original is just...always better? You can’t even tell the difference!”

“The artist who painted it can tell.”

“The artist is dead, and you know what? I bet he couldn’t, I bet I could convince him that that one was the original, just like everyone else here is convinced.”

“Then it’s selling a lie.”

“So you agree then, I should take it? Expose the truth!” you tease.

“Where’s the real one?” Namjoon asks, ignoring your question with one of his own.

“Probably in some old guy’s home collecting dust and being used to launder money. Taehyung wants to expose the fake and the art gallery’s shady dealings, maybe even get the original back...”

“Why would he go to all this trouble?”

“That’s just his style,” you joke. “You should know by now. So will you let me steal it?”

“How do I know you just didn’t make all this up right now?”

You sigh. “I guess we can’t all have Jin’s assuredness, huh?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon frowns, watching the man in question walk to another painting with a large crowd in tow, ready to hear his thoughts on the next piece.

“Well, I’m still stealing it,” you declare. “But we have time until then, so want to show me around? Or leave me to my own evil devices?” you tease, “Or take me someplace where we can be alone?” you bite you lip, eyeing him up and down.

Namjoon swallows, trying to think of anything other than the way your body is so on display in your sheer dress, your curves rivaling the beauty of the three dimensional art pieces around you. He tries not to think about you in his arms, twisting you as he pleases, the translucent nylon stretching and showing more of you until he forgets to breathe. “Why do I get the feeling you are trying to distract me?”

“Well it’s true I want all your attention,” you stare at him, daring him to look away. “I have to remind you though, now that I told you, if you do let me steal it...you’ll be an accomplice.”

Namjoon laughs a little too loud and people stare at the pair of you.

“Joon...” you say softly, “I miss you.”

“You have lots of friends now to keep you company.” He fixes the gems of your necklace, fingers lingering on your cheek. “Which one of them stole this for you?”

You resist the urge to frown and roll your eyes, turning to the still life painting in front of you instead. “Go ahead and confiscate it if you want, might as well take the dress off of me too,” you challenge.

Namjoon drags you to the next art piece, defiantly silent.

“I hoped you might have felt the same,” you sigh, “I guess that’s stupid of me, to hope you missed me too.”

Namjoon clenches his jaw, eyes focused on the large painting. “You know how I feel about you-”

“I don’t know,” you argue, wanting to hear him say it.

“What I feel doesn’t matter, actions matter.”

Goddamn him. “I don’t want to argue with you tonight. Can’t we enjoy the art, like we used to?”

“The red lines in this painting, notice how you can follow through to this one, and this?”

You nod, holding his arm tighter. He pulls you closer to the last painting, turning your body to look at all three, so you can see how the overlapping lines connect across each piece. “Red for blood, representing the strings of fate.” Namjoon’s arm naturally wraps around your waist, his jaw against your cheek as he gently guides your eye line.

“You see all that?” you smile, you could listen to him pick apart art all day long.

Namjoon’s finger taps the plaque next to you, titled “Moirai.” The three fates. You tilt your head to look behind you, where his frame towers. His eyes sparkle with passion for the art. You think it’s the art, but your heart hopes it’s something more...

“I…want to kiss you so badly...”

Namjoon looks at you, his heart jumping in his chest-

“There you are! I was wondering where you went off to. You don't mind if I steal your friend away, right?”

Taehyung. This was not part of the plan!

Cameras are suddenly around you, a handful of photographers that have been shadowing The Mayor. Namjoon has no choice but to offer him a tight lipped smile, nodding. “She’s all yours, for now,” he adds under his breath.

Taehyung holds his hand out to you and you don’t miss a beat, placing your fingers in his palm. He kisses your knuckles and the cameras love it, a dozen flashes going off in unison.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Mayor Kim addresses Namjoon. Taehyung is clearly out for blood, playing coy and using his status against him.

“Namjoon is an art history expert,” you say proudly, “and he is a collector of art!”

“No I am not,” Namjoon mutters, ears reddening.

“You are!” you still remember how he saved up for months to buy a particular painting he adored. When he first moved in, you helped him frame all the drawings he has collected over the years. “His home looks like an art gallery.”

“Ahhh,” Taehyung fakes intrigue. “One more photo, guys!” He turns to the cameras, “Please, let me have some time to myself to enjoy...the art,” he grins in your direction.

Taehyung pulls you to his side, and you’re forced to fake a smile for the cameras, the flashes nearly blinding you. How does Taehyung do this all the time, and seem to enjoy it?

Taehyung smiles wide. His arm is over your shoulder, fingers tickling your arm. Cameras flash.

His arm moves lower, stopping around your waist. Flash. He quickly pulls you closer, turns his head and nuzzles your neck. Flash. You can’t help but giggle uncontrollably and cameras flash two times faster. Flash Flash Flash. You’re going to have to have a talk with Yoongi to make sure none of those photos end up online.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Taehyung says after photographers have scurried away. He peers over at Namjoon who has managed to keep himself from ripping Taehyung's arms off of you up until this point, his restraint now wavering to dangerous levels.

Namjoon nods in agreement, staring at you as you become increasingly more uncomfortable with whatever game Taehyung is playing. “Mayor Kim, have you been drinking?”

“Yes, there’s an open bar,” he reminds you, “but I am still more than capable of-” he turns to Namjoon, whispering, “stealing that painting.”

You step in between both men as Namjoon advances, running into Namjoon’s arms instead before The Mayor’s security descends. You hadn’t expected Namjoon to wrap his arms around you. “I would love that. I would love for you to try, instead of making my friend act like a criminal.”

Taehyung tilts his head at the pair of you, “It’s no act.”

“Joon, show me your favorite art piece here, will you?” You try to move the headstrong pair away from each other.

Namjoon looks between you and the Mayor. He can’t figure it out, the plan you have both concocted, and it is infuriating. “And what if I leave and take you with me right now.” He interlocks his arms around your frame, looking at you, testing your reaction. You want to tell him to take you, more than anything-

“Hmm I’d let you have her for tonight to keep you out of my hair.”

“Taehyung!” you hiss as Namjoon pushes against you to get closer to the Mayor, a huge mistake that has what’s left of his security coming to stop Joon. Why is he ruining his own goddamn plan?! Unless...

“Is there a problem, Sir?” Jimin speaks up, halting your argument. You glare at-

The mastermind. It was all Taehyung’s idea to do this. Even though Taehyung had an appreciation for the craftmanship of modern art, he despised the art scene, the overinflated prices, the elitism of it all, the very culture often being critiqued gathering together to inflate their own egos rather than to show any real appreciation for what it took to create such magnificence. Which is why Taehyung wanted to expose all of it for the sham it was. And, perhaps, get the real art piece somewhere where it will be appreciated, like in his study...

But the plan was to distract Namjoon while the others work to switch the original with a fake, not piss him off so much he was going to get you all kicked out before you could do anything!

There was something Taehyung was keeping from you...

Is there no honor amongst thieves?!

“Yes, Jimin, can you please escort Mr...Kim Namjoon, was it? Mr. Kim Namjoon out before he does something he regrets.”

“No. No!” You hold onto Namjoon. You didn’t want your time with him to be cut so short.

“Don’t make a scene, darling.” Taehyung pulls you to him quickly.

“You’re the one making a fucking scene,” you whisper, unwilling to part from Joon, wanting to cry at this unfair treatment. You knew how much Namjoon loved art and how much he wanted to be here.

Namjoon watched as you abated your breath and held in your tears, and the sight kept him from charging through security to get to Taehyung, even when the young politician put his arm around your shoulder arrogantly.

“I’ll be back…as RM,” he threatens.

“We’re counting on it,” Taehyung smiles.

“Why would you do that? We said he would stay!”

“He has to believe it. That’s the plan, right, my damsel?”

“He will,” you swallow, worried you’ve gone too far. No…this will work. Even though you have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach over Taehyung’s enthusiastic cooperation.

“And will you give me some damn space?” you threaten, acutely aware of how Taehyung has himself pressed up against you, leaning into you like a lover would.

He wraps his arms around your waist. “Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?”

“You really are drunk, aren’t you?”

Taehyung chuckles, head knocking into yours. “I want to kiss you.”

You look around, surprised no one has noticed his antics. “You’re going to kiss me? In front of all these people and cameras?” you laugh.

“No. Because,” he holds your waist tightly, “They don’t see us.” He moves you closer to a vase on display. You peer down at the shiny surface, your reflections missing. “They haven’t for awhile now.”

“Huh? Damn, I didn’t even notice.”

“It’s nice right? We could do anything we wanted, and they wouldn’t know.” He moves you further away from the crowds. “I could kiss you...I fuck you right here, and they wouldn’t be the wiser,” he teases, “That is...if you can keep quiet.” You wore the perfect outfit, his hand travels down to your exposed thigh.

“You drunken idiot.”

“If I kiss you, would you stop me?”

“Find out,” you challenge.

“The mission first.” He pulls away from you. You realize your hand had absentmindedly snaked its way around Taehyung’s neck when he removes it and places your palm on the wall next to you.

“You’re giving me mixed signals, Mayor.”

“Knock down all the paintings on this wall.”

You sigh, running your finger along the wall. “Fine.” The row of paintings fall when you point down earning frightened yelps from those in attendance who are closest.

“You could destroy this whole museum without even trying,” he whispers, shamelessly eyeing you up and down. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung holds your shoulders, pushing you against the newly bare museum wall and then kisses you, devouring your lips so roughly your head knocks against it, hands wrapping back around your waist until you’re pressed so tightly together you’re melting into his embrace and Taehyung knows you’ve stopped thinking about your damned superhero.

The remaining three walls suddenly become bare when Taehyung presses his knee up between your legs. “Shit,” you manage to calm yourself down as the Museum’s curator goes into hysterics.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, his head buried in your neck. Everyone is ushered into the adjoining room. “We should help,” you stutter.

“They got it handled, isn’t this more fun?”

Once the room is cleared, only staff remain, frantically trying to figure out what to do. That’s when you see him, the wide eyed teleporter in a fancy black suit similar to other staff members. He works quickly and discreetly, switching out real paintings with fakes. Everyone was so tense and focused on their task, no one even noticed the slight changes in his stance. You watched mesmerized, watching Jungkook work was like watching a video skipping frames, a real time glitch in person.

“How many originals are you taking?”

“What if I took all of them?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. It is true that there have been shady dealings, but Taehyung hadn’t quite figured out which paintings were fakes, his solution? Steal them all, make them all forgeries.

“He’s lurking outside of the South entrance.” You can feel Namjoon, it is…nice to think about him. Sometimes you wonder if he can sense when you do this, if he can feel your presence as if you were holding him. “Now?” you ask Taehyung, ready for action.

“No, change of plans-”

“What?” you hiss.

“Relax, you’ll still get what you want-”

“You know I don’t like being left out!”

“Ohoho, when you begged me to leave the others out of-”

You grab a nice chunk of Taehyung’s hair and yank. “That is different.”

“Yes, yes, it’s different...” You watch his Adam’s apple jump up as he swallows, his long neck outstetched and very enticing to lick, the sight makes you lessen your grip only slightly.

“What change?”

“Sorry love, we won’t be stealing anything-”

Taehyung has to be joking. You made a deal and if Taehyung goes back on it now, you’ll make him regret everything. “I have to get arrested-”

“Oh you definitely will.” You frown because he’s not making any sense.

“I know you hate it when we drag you into our politics. If I told you everything you were just going to be a brat about it,” he says. You blink, taking a deep breath, disappointed and annoyed. “It will still have the same effect! When they clean the paintings they’ll realize they are fakes.”

Huh? You groan, you reliaze exactly what Taehyung...no, V and the rest of those ecoterrorists want to do. “This new plan is fucking lame. You know this kind of shit goes right over people’s heads?” You have heard of this happening to other museums. Defacing art in the name of the environment definitely gets people talking, but you have to wonder if it actually changes minds?

“As long as they are talking about it, it keeps my clean energy proposal relevant, that’s what matters. If anything my proposal will look so much more reasonable in comparison, don't you think? Hoseok will do all the talking, you just have to make sure your aim hits.”

“I’m tired of being used as a pawn.” You glare at him, and then against his will, his fingers move of your own accord.

“Not a pawn,” Taehyung grunts, unsuccessfully fighting against your powers. “You’re a Queen…a Queen...”

“Queen huh,” Taehyung’s body goes rigid as he moves against his own will.

His head rests on your shoulder, then in between your breasts, moving down the front of your body, falling to his knees, head resting against your hip bone. This kind of tortuous play Taehyung could get used to.

You notice Mr. Art Critic and double agent 006 sense in the art curator’s ear, no doubt whispering persuasive white lies to further the plan along. Eventually you’ll move to the other room, where everyone left will be the perfect captive audience.

You could have sworn Seokjin looked right at you at one point, as if he can see you and his friend kneeling at your feet.

You lean against the wall, letting your anger subside. Eventually, you allow Taehyung to look up at you.

Sometimes you wondered who you were looking at, which version of Taehyung was staring back at you. This kind of occupation fractured people, or perhaps you all became broken that night in the forest, who you were supposed to be and who you became were shattered fragments held together by unimaginable power.

You run your hand through his hair, fixing the strands you messed up back in place. “You’re very frustrating.”

“Have I ever not given you what you wanted? This plan will work, you’ll get your white knight back as a black knight.”

You swallow, your will to fight against Taehyung diminishing less and less until you let go of your mind hold on him all together.

This little plan of yours might be drastic, but the gentle approach when dealing with RM never works. But unlike Taehyung, you don’t need Namjoon to turn dark, just...understand you. You can do this, play this game you and Taehyung have set up. You just have to push Joon just a bit, but not let him be captured by your side. A Queen can move anywhere across the board after all, the Queen is more powerful than the King.

“You don’t have to stay on your knees,” you eye the very handsome man caressing your legs.

“We have plenty of time,” Taehyung’s lips graze your exposed thigh.

“Fuck,” you murmur, looking around. No one even looks in your direction. You look down at the man in between your legs, so willing to stay on his knees for you. You should focus on the mission. You need to make yourself available, but all you could focus on were the small electrical currents of pleasure caused by Taehyung’s slow and determined caresses.

His fingers are a shock to your system when he drags his hand under your dress, pressing into your heat suddenly.

This is the last time, the last time Taehyung will have any power over you.

You hoped.

---

“RM, hey! My kid’s a big fan, do you think I can get an autograph.”

“Err yeah sure, what’s going on-”

“Can I get an autograph too?”

“Did I say you could speak? Shut your goddamn mouth,” the officer yells at you and you pout, flinching when he reaches for you.

“What happened? The museum, there was an event, right?” Namjoon tries to remain calm, grabbing the officer’s attention again, purposely making sure he doesn’t touch you. Namjoon had been preoccupied, distracted by an accident that had nothing to do with your plans but worked in your favor, a family that needed urgent medical attention after a car crash, as RM was quicker than any ambulance and stronger than the jaws of life, he saved them just in time.

“These two lunatics crashed it.” He gestures to you and Hoseok, sitting handcuffed on the ground, your dress torn at the slit and across the collar at your resisted arrest and Hoseok with a busted lip. “Not only that, once they realized they were cornered they defaced everything with paint-”

“It was actually gazpacho,” you interject.

“Yeah yeah, and that’s called a felony charge,” he reminds you and you roll your eyes. “His name is Daniel, you can put Danny, he’d love that.” He hands Namjoon a piece of paper. “You can take this one,” he tells his partner, pointing at Hoseok, “I’ll take her in.”

The officer looks down at you, eyes zoning in on your cleavage, and Hoseok makes himself heavy on purpose when his partner grabs at him, unwilling to leave you alone. You try to wrap your legs around his calf when he is pulled away, neither of you able to grab on to each other with your hands handcuffed.

“Goddammit!” the officer yanks you up by the elbow causing you to cry out in pain. Namjoon holds you up, unable to stop himself from interfering. “Don’t worry, RM, I got it handled,” the officer says, trying to grab you again. “That’s two counts resisting arrest already,” he yells in your ear, “Do you want to add a third?!”

“Why yes, officer, I would,” you mock, trying to twist your arm out of his hold.

You scream as he pushes you against the side of his patrol car.

Namjoon’s chest feels tight, his teeth hurting from how hard he’s clenching his jaw.

Again RM steps in, “Shouldn’t you be more gentle on her-”

“She’s overreacting, these girls love to cry crocodile tears, don’t fall for it,” he dismisses. You cry louder, rattling the superhero to his core.

The officer shoves you in the back of his vehicle, slamming the door shut, and you stomp your heel into his window, cracking it on impact, something that should have been physically impossible to do on bullet proof glass, but remarkably easy with your powers.

“What the hell! Crazy bitch,” he mutters under his breath. “That's another charge! Vandalism to a police vehicle!” he bangs on the window with his fist, cursing.

“I should go with you, in case something goes wrong,” Namjoon hands back his hastily scribbled signature.

“What could go wrong?” he laughs. “Nah, it’s gonna take me some time,” Namjoon tries not to think the worst when the officer mumbles out a convoluted excuse, “Anyways, you can fly! What wouldn’t I give to be able to fly-”

“I’ll follow behind your car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says curtly. “Like I said, we’re good here, RM. You wouldn’t want people to suspect anything like tampering with police proceedings, right?” The officer makes it a point to emphasize his thinly veiled threat. You sit up when he starts the car, looking at the superhero with pleading eyes.

Of course Namjoon followed you.

The superhero stayed high in the air, right above the police cruiser.

Namjoon knew you could get out of this. So why weren’t you! You were really going to let yourself get caught just like you told him? Fuck, why were you letting it really happen?

Namjoon, an annual pass holder to the museum, had built a nice friendship with many of the older women curators as such a regular visitor. So they would sometimes offer him discounted tickets on nights like tonight where he could get to see newly curated artwork before the general public, an opportunity the art enthusiast could rarely pass up on, even if the tickets did cost a small fortune.

Namjoon had, however, not anticipated this kind of event would be taken over by V and he surely had not expected the sight of you. But you had a knack for dropping back into his life and leaving him reeling. You had a knack for confusing him too, making him question himself and his actions over and over again, and all those agonizing questions he had were about to be answered...

Namjoon tails the police cruiser turns down an alley, watching as the headlights turns off and the engine stops as he parks.

You could escape now, it would be the perfect time, Namjoon thinks. The driver door opens and the officer circles the vehicle, pulling out his firearm.

You need to escape, you have to. This wasn’t about the paintings anymore, this was wrong.

Jungkook was going to come, right? Hop you away from punishment like he always did. Where was he? Or any one of them?

They should be protecting you! Namjoon didn’t think he could despise V any more, but the fact that he couldn’t even properly safeguard you when his plans went awry made Namjoon’s blood boil.

Yet, he found himself desperately wishing Taehyung would reveal himself.

Right now. Right now!

Namjoon clenches his fist.

He watches as the officer opens the back door, pistol aimed right at you, crawling into the backseat and on top of you.

---

You wash Namjoon’s hands under cold water silently until the bleeding stops.

“I was going to kill him.”

“No, you weren’t,” you remind him, holding his hand as you work to heal his knuckles.

“If you hadn’t stopped me-”

“I didn’t do much,” you laugh solemnly.

“I should...turn myself in,” Namjoon says dejectedly.

“Are you crazy? So you can go to jail with every criminal you put away?! Everyone will know your identity, what if they go after your family- No, if you even dare try something so stupid, then I’ll…run a rampage in the city!” you threaten, serious even if it sounded ridiculous.

Namjoon looks up at you, eyes softening. “We have to tell the Chief of Police. They should know…what he was going to do to you…” Namjoon couldn’t even say it, disgusted all over again, his anger rising.

“You saved me before he did,” you mumble. “They protect their own, you know that,” you sigh, “If we do that I’ll just end up getting arrested again, probably by one of his friends. Don’t worry, Joon. Jin will get to him, alter his memories so we don’t have to deal with them again, he’s gotten pretty good at it.”

Seokjin...Namjoon felt a bitter taste in his mouth that it was Jin who was going to deal with that bastard and not himself. You can see the torment raging in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you...do something?”

You flick him on the forehead. “You know, if I didn’t have my powers-”

“You do, you do! You could have-”

“What? Escaped? Were you planning on capturing me to hand me over to the police yourself?” you try to lighten the mood.

Joon rests his head on your shoulder. “...I would have let you go.” Namjoon scoffs, sighing. “You...weaken me. I was going to kill him, I-I still...” Namjoon has to calm down, he has to be better. But all he could think about was seeing that officer over you, rage filling inside him so quickly he reacted before even thinking. He yanked the door off its hinges and grabbed the officer with all intent to stop him from ever doing that to anyone ever again.

There was so much blood.

You lean your head against his. “I’m sorry. The way things are…going against them, it doesn't make you a bad person. Sometimes justice is unlawful…”

Namjoon didn’t know what to say.

“Joon?”

“Yeah?”

You pause. “Now…can you try to understand…why…I…” you take a deep breath, “...why I killed The Mayor? He was going to do something…horrible to you. How could I not protect you? Can’t you forgive me? Please?”

“And everything else you’ve done since then?” Namjoon can’t meet your eyes, clenching his jaw.

“I admit, yes, I’ve made some…bad decisions since then. Killing the Mayor was not one of them.”

You admitted your wrongdoings, that was something Namjoon could cling to for now. “You can use my shower, to clean up.” he whispers, looking down at your torn dress. “I’ll bring you one of my shirts.”

“Can I ask a um favor?” You look around his small bathroom, thinking about the last time you had been in his home, feeling the pain in your chest become sharper.

“I don’t want him to be the last person who kissed me, so-” Namjoon pounds his fist on the bathroom sink, breaking the marble. “Yah!” You grab his hand again. “I just fixed your hand!”

He hugs you close to him, letting the scent of you calm him down. The smell of your hair, the remnants of your lotion, even the salty scent of your unwashed skin, he likes. He almost resists when you pull his head away, not wanting to stop breathing you in.

He looks into your pleading eyes, your awaiting lips, your abated breath, you have always been his weakness.

His mouth captures yours, letting his lips mold together with yours. You pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you up into his arms.

“Don’t stop, please,” you say desperately, wrapping your legs around his torso, reaching for the shower curtain and pulling it open.

He steps inside the bath as you attempt to unzip the back of your torn dress. Namjoon lets you stand, helping you pull the tight dress off your shoulders. You run your lips across his neck, kissing his jaw, his cheek, any part of him you could reach, needing to leave your mark on him.

The water runs red as the showerhead washes the blood off RM’s suit. You reach around his back, removing the offending material. Namjoon kisses your exposed shoulder, the warm water relaxing his tense muscles. He wishes he could forget tonight and remember only this moment with you.

The more he touches you, the quicker the hopeless feeling in the pit of his stomach is replaced with a desperate ache to have you. Your soft moans extinguish the white hot anger inside of him, simmering it down so he can only feel the heat of your bodies, the steam of the shower and the wetness of your slick mixed with water.

He caresses your skin, memorizing the lines of your face and the fullness of your cheeks, the specks in your irises. It's been too long, he curses his forgetfulness.

“Joon?” you look at him worriedly, he looks like he’s about to cry, and you can’t be sure he wasn’t already, wondering if the shower water running down his face might be concealing his tears.

You should feel guilty, you should feel ashamed, but fuck...he’s here with you, you have him, Namjoon was what really made you feel less broken. But if you were breaking him in the process...Fuck, fuck! You’ll find a way to fix it!

He crashes his lips against yours once again, refusing to let you go until you’re both gasping for air.

You laugh when he slips, using your powers to catch him and press his body to yours.

He hikes up your leg, moving quickly, needy and desperate, with an urgency like he needs to prove something to you, to himself. He holds you too tight, ruts into you so hard, fingers digging into your legs painfully, crushing you against tile.

You grind your teeth, keeping your mewls silent as his thick cock stretches you out. He pulls you closer to him, thrusting in so deep and hard you know you’re going to be sore, and you want it to never end.

You hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his back, hoping you’ll leave marks, something that will make him think of this moment and want you all over again.

You lean your head back, pull him in by the neck, leading his mouth to your throat, tightening against him when he sucks on the sensitive skin under your jaw.

It feels too good, it feels too right, you quiet your worries, you silence your doubts, hold him tighter.

He’s close, you can feel him swell inside you, his head bumping into yours as his rhythm picks up. You moan out his name encouragingly, wanting more.

You’re shivering and feverish all at once, chasing your release with him, goosebumps blooming over your wet skin, the aching inside your chest turning into molten lava, flowing straight down and spreading warmth across your stomach, the place your bodies connect throbbing until you can’t think straight.

You snap into a million burning sparks, all ignited by Namjoon.

He slips again, falling with you.

“You’re so clumsy,” you smile, holding your bodies up a few centimeters above Namjoon’s tub as the superhero catches his breath, head buried in your neck, his body tightly wrapped around yours.

---

“Y/n!” Seokjin runs to you first, “Are you okay?! What happened?!” He grabs your head, running through your thoughts.

“W-Well…” Aish, you did not want to remember all of that! And you felt a little embarrassed as the rest of the night replayed in your head. Seokjin doesn’t seem too angry or bothered, hugging you close.

“You weren’t there. And the scene we found was…” Jin falters, “troublesome.”

“Jin went a little ballistic,” Jungkook adds, hugging you next. “We all thought something terrible happened to you.”

“His thoughts…I could barely make sense of them, he seemed to have suffered some brain damage. I thought he…never mind.”

Hoseok hugs you next. He notices the bruises on your legs, “Shit, he fucking hurt you.”

“I’m fine! I’m fine,” you stutter, glancing over to Jin who stays quiet, thankfully not outing what really happened to you. “I’ll fix that, okay?” You wince at his busted lip. “Sorry for disappearing,” you say sheepishly, “Were you able to ‘change’ his mind?”

“Well, I don’t think he is going to be doing much on the police force…or much of anything.”

“Damn, what did you do?!”

Seokjin stays uncharacteristically silent. “The guy wouldn’t stop screaming, and Jin wouldn’t let go of him,” Jungkook speaks up. “Taehyung wants me to take you to him. He said as soon as you came back-”

“I can’t go right now. I have to heal Hoseok and also, I don't want to,” you add.

“She’s not going,” Yoongi says, holding your cheek as he looks you over. Jungkook has no choice but to relent.

“I’m fine, nothing actually happened-”

“I watched the cameras...the way RM reacted...Jin was pretty convinced-”

“You think I can’t handle some creep? There was no way he was going to get away with that, okay? So don’t look at me like that…please, it makes me feel pathetic,” you whine, running your hand over his furrowed brow.

“We have another problem,” Yoongi says, pulling your hand away.

He holds up his phone. “Oh what the fuck.”

“It’s every trending topic on local news.”

Fuck! You knew you forgot something. Pictures of Taehyung and you were reposted over and over, with headlines like, ‘The Mayor’s Mysterious New Girlfriend.’ Even pictures of you together at night looking at the lights…

Oh no…

Yoongi scrolls through blurry pictures of you kissing Taehyung.

Oh shit…

“Can’t you erase it?!”

“If it had been only one or two sites, maybe. Now that it's all over the net, it's impossible.”

“I am not ‘The Mayor’s girlfriend,’” you plead to Yoongi.

But it had always been the plan. Yoongi knew it had always been what Taehyung wanted, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “You look good together.”

“No we don't! I can’t stand him, I don’t like him, Yoongi.” You wanted to say you liked him instead, but the words caught in your throat at his next question.

“And Namjoon?”

“What?”

“Where were you all night?”

You keep your mouth shut tightly, looking away.

“When Seokjin said Namjoon took you, I was relieved. After what happened to you, I knew you would want to be with Joon most of all. Still, I was hoping you might come back. I was hoping I could have been enough,” he holds your cheek one last time.

You want to scream and cry, ask Yoongi for forgiveness, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Even ‘I’m sorry’ feels like a hollow gesture. “Don’t look at me like that,” he sighs, mustering up a smile, “It makes me feel pathetic.”

‘Vandals Escape after Destroying Museum Full of Art.’

‘Art Under Attack! Environmentalists Ask What is Worth More, Your Future or Your Art?

‘Mysterious Crater found on City Outskirts, Aliens?’

‘Art Gallery Embroiled in Forgery Allegations.’

‘Controversial Energy Bill Set to be Approved.’

‘Mayor Kim’s Mysterious First Lady.’

“When asked about the ‘new woman’ in his life, Mayor Kim acts impartial for the first time in his political career. Though, he hints they may be more than an item, adding next election there might be a first lady by his side.” You read the article to Taehyung, fuming. “Why in the hell would you say something like that? I am never going to be your girlfriend, in fact, I am beginning to despise you.” You want to throw your phone at Taehyung’s head.

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning back on his office chair. “I just need you for a couple public appearances here and there, it’s not the end of the world to be seen with me, you know.”

“No-”

“You owe me,” he lowers his voice, anger contained to the few slowly spoken syllables.

“This is not what I had in mind,” you argue, surprised at his demeanor.

“No, but it is what I want. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? You even have my friends worrying about you. Did you enjoy all the attention?”

“Fuck you. It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m not judging! I’m impressed. Your twisted plan worked. You even turned me into the bad guy, everyone is still mad at me for what happened to you,” he says, clicking his tongue. For the first time in years Taehyung feels the tight bonds around his friendships loosening and he doesn’t like it at all.

Intentionally or not, you had weaved yourself in their lives, loosened the strings yourself. It was your fault and he was going to tie you to him one way or another, and he was going to make it suffocatingly tight, make you depend on him to breathe.

“You are the bad guy,” you whisper.

“Yeah…” he puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at you. “You’re really evil, then. Don’t you think we’d make the perfect pair?” It’s not in a teasing manner. He’s serious. He doesn’t shy away from you, only watches you slowly fall apart in front of him.

Tahyung’s happy encouraging smile makes your insides twist. You ruined a man. In your opinion, he dug his own grave, but you gave him the shovel, placed him atop his plot. But he did it! So why did you feel so dirty?

Were you really the evil one?

Taehyung thought so. The way he looks at you, relishing in the fact you did something so twisted, it makes your skin crawl. Maybe you were where you should be, in the dirt, in Taehyung’s arms.

“I changed the plan for you, y/n. I would do anything for you.”

“No...you knew this would happen, that’s why you let me go with Joon, right?” Fuck, it had been your idea, so why did it not feel like you had any control?

His lips on the crook of your neck made you feel helpless.

When Taehyung explained the plan to you, you saw an opportunity. Steal the paintings, get arrested, escape before reaching the police station. Taehyung told you Namjoon would be in attendance.

Taehyung wanted you to distract him. You resented becoming the decoy. You asked the question, “What if RM becomes my escape?” It intrigued Taehyung, so you continued. Taehyung hated RM’s annoying altruism, you also wanted Namjoon to make a selfish decision, one for you, two birds struck with one stone. “Find me a cop with a history...”

You were never in any real danger, you could have stopped him yourself easily, but you begged Taehyung to make sure the others left you alone. He made them believe it was his mistake, a miscommunication between him and you.

You knew Namjoon would free you if he had a good reason. Was it so bad to want him to see how not everything can be solved by the books? If he could just understand that, understand where you were coming from…

Hoseok was hurt because of you, you still feel guilty about it. Namjoon and Seokjin almost killed a man because of you! Sure, that man ultimately decided to abuse his power over you, but you egged him on in the back seat, did everything you could to make him snap. You wanted him to snap.

You wanted destruction.

And perhaps some part of you deep, deep down wanted Namjoon to kill for you like you did for him. You just missed him so damn much, felt so small and unsure of your place in his heart. But in the end you stopped him, you couldn’t let him become like you, ignoring that horribleness growing inside of you.

“Night events only,” you concede. Grabbing him by the collar, you add, “Don’t expect me to be on your damn campaign trail.”

V smirks. “That’s my girl.”

---

IT'S GETTING MESSY. Team V or Team RM?

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #Taehyung smut #namjoon smut #bts fantasy au #bts superhero au #bts supernatural au #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon angst #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you

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casuallyimagining · 8 months

Text

Set Me Free || myg (teaser)

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: TBD (at least 10k. unclear if this is a one-shot or not) Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff, more to be added Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, more to be added

Notes: I don't really know when I might be posting this. I'm still in the process of writing it, but it feels about halfwayish done, and I'm excited about it, so I wanted to share!

teaser under the cut

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

Now he wanted you gone.

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

“Wh-”

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

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

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

I am very curious to know your thoughts on this. I'm so fucking excited to post. stupid grad school is getting in the way of me being able to devote 100% of my time to it, but god I'm trying so hard to get it done.

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daechwitatamic · 5 months

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Of Ruin: Chapter 1 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: vampire hunting and killing, blood and gore in vampire attacks, language

WC: 5.7k

Maggie’s mother always told her nothing good happens after midnight. Maggie disagreed. Lots of good things happened after midnight. Usually in bars with loud music, her friends’ laughter ringing in her ears and a little too much alcohol singing in her bloodstream.

That was the case tonight - and the night had been wonderful. She and Farrah had still been going strong at midnight, throwing back shots in tandem. The DJ had been stellar and they’d danced until their feet hurt. And, the piece de resistance, they’d run into that guy from their Econ class - the one with the dark eyes and killer smile. He’d stayed with them the whole tail end of the night - even offered to walk them home, back to their apartment building.

He’d stayed with them, but his eyes had been on Maggie. And when, on the walk home, Farrah skipped ahead of them, buzzed and happy, he’d tugged on her hand and kissed her sweetly, right there on the sidewalk.

Nothing good happens after midnight, who?

And then, something weird happened. The stretch of sidewalk seemed suddenly darker, as if there was something between them and the flickering streetlight - like netting, or mist. It seemed, suddenly, that the lack of light was an entity - alive, all around them, shifting and changing and wanting.

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

But there was nothing to see except darkness that felt darker.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes, it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer.

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing.

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, head snapping up, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered to its feet, stepping over Farrah’s body and staggering towards them. As it approached, Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood, black like ink in this light, running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin. Could have been, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawn mower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no pupils or irises visible at all. Could have been, if not for the inhumanly long incisors ending below his curled upper lip.

“Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly.

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Its upper lip was curled in what looked like disgust, displaying its most fearsome weapons clearly. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs refusing to hold her up - let alone to run.

Not that she could outrun an Infracti.

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see the monster move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to shove the Infracti away from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms tightly, holding Econ Guy in place, its frightening face buried in the crook of his neck.

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened its hands - fingers splayed purposefully as it emptied them - and its victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. Its all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing.

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then it crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that it looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her.

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a beast straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his fangs pierce the flesh.

Taehyung wakes to a shout; he becomes aware of the pain before anything else. His head throbs, his throat feels like there’s glass in it, his shoulders and back ache like he’s carried marble slabs all night.

It’s a uniquely human curse to question, and Taehyung isn’t human, but he immediately tries to figure out why he hurts from head to toe. Especially since he hasn’t hurt in several centuries.

He shoots a quick glance around to see what he can figure out without moving. Right away it’s clear that he is not in bed. He is on the floor, the stone cool beneath his palms. A servant is crouched near him, repeating his name but smart enough not to touch him.

He can tell, as his blurry vision clears bit by bit, that he’s definitely in the palace proper, though not in a wing he frequents. The floor beneath him is just stone - no marble, no thick carpeting - which indicates he’s not in a living-quarters wing. The walls, however, hang with vibrant tapestries and oil portraits, gilded sconces lighting the way every few feet. Most definitely still the palace.

“Why am I here?” he manages to croak.

The servant turns over his shoulder and shouts to someone, “Alert the King!”

This is the first moment that Taehyung feels alarm atop the pain. He struggles to sit up, takes stock of his surroundings. The same servant still hovers near, face pinched with something akin to fear.

How did I end up on the floor?

Not only that - he isn’t even entirely sure where in the sprawling palace he is.

When he hears approaching footsteps and recognizes the sharp, staccato clicks and clacks, he almost sags back to the floor in relief. Instead, he pushes himself to standing, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him and then ebbing just in time for him to incline his head and intone, “Mother.”

Despite the centuries that have passed since Taehyung was small, something affectionate and maternal remains in the Queen. She presses cool palms to Taehyung’s cheeks and looks him up and down. She winces at something she sees. “Darling,” she says, the word lilting in the strange accent she has, one that belongs to a language long-dead. “What were you thinking?”

It takes Taehyung a moment to articulate a response. He’s frightened - something quite new to him - and he isn’t sure the correct move to make in this situation. The fear toys with logic, makes the answer slippery, hard to grasp.

He settles on the truth. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I mean - I can’t remember. I don’t know how I got here.”

He doesn’t ask, did something happen. It’s obvious that something did.

He hears his father, Sunjae of Rune, King of Infracticus, long before he enters the room, his authoritative voice barking questions and orders.

“How far has word spread?”

“There was only one witness. She’s in custody.”

“Handle her and send her back,” the King snaps. “As quickly as possible. Where is my son?”

This last question is roared as he finally enters the high-ceilinged corridor where his wife and son stand.

“I’m here,” Taehyung says, needlessly.

The King sizes him up, eyes narrowed, chest puffed. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he spits finally.

Taehyung clears his throat and then ventures, “For starters… I’d really like to know what happened.”

The King’s face slides from fury to something befuddled, his hands sinking to his sides like sails in the absence of wind.

–

Taehyung’s father leads them back to their private wing and closes them into a dimly lit room that houses floor to ceiling bookshelves full of tomes so old they’d crumble to dust if you dared to touch them. A fire roars in the hearth for aesthetics only - Taehyung’s kind can’t feel cold.

He locks the door and turns to face them. Taehyung’s mother has sunk delicately onto a fainting couch, and she watches her son sharply.

Taehyung feels itchy under her gaze. She’s the smartest of the three of them, and Taehyung knows it even if his father doesn’t.

“You’re telling me,” the King growls, low, “that you don’t remember any of it?”

“I was in my wing,” Taehyung promises. “Sometime near midnight. That’s the last thing I remember, until I woke up on the floor in a random hallway -”

The King and Queen exchange a look, an entire conversation in just a glance. Then, the King heaves a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Then, the Queen ventures, “The Elders should see him.”

The King grumbles something under his breath.

She tries again. “He could be ill. He could be going mad. We need to know!”

“Will someone please tell me what’s happened?” Taehyung bursts out, finally unable to take it - the anxiety, the questions, the conversation about him but not involving him, all of it.

“You went rogue,” the King says dryly, his eyes on the dancing fire instead of his son.

Taehyung feels his stomach drop. “Meaning?”

“Exactly what he said,” the Queen says, something steely in her tone. “You went above, alone, and… hunted.”

Taehyung feels his legs turn to stone. His stomach twists and a wave of nausea rocks him. “I what?” he asks, but it comes out like a gasp. The sides of the room are starting to go black and he breathes slowly, one hand gripping the back of the couch.

Silence expands, filling the room. Taehyung’s stomach lurches, and he closes his eyes.

“Did… did I -?”

“You took two humans and left a third alive. We have teams cleaning up, up there, and we’ve got the spare here -”

Took two humans.

The spare.

Taehyung’s stomach twists again. The black creeping at the edge of his vision draws closer to the center. Taehyung loses sight of his father’s face in the encroaching darkness.

“Darling, we’ve covered up incidents like this countless times. No one will know. We’ll make sure.” The Queen’s voice is soothing, bringing to Taehyung’s mind all the times when he was a child when she would hurry to calm him.

Taehyung shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

“You didn’t know you were doing it,” the King muses - his next problem to solve, not a placation to reassure his guilt-stricken son. “We must uncover the cause.”

“The Elders,” the Queen says again, insistently. “At least let them give him a medical once-over.”

The King sighs in defeat. “I suppose we have no choice. Wait in your rooms, Taehyung. I’ll summon the Elders at once. The sooner we find out what came over you, the better.”

—

Taehyung is in his wing when Jimin comes – uncalled, unbidden, simply as if he sensed his best friend’s distress. And perhaps he had – the Infracti have shown stranger powers before.

“I heard you had a bit of an adventure,” he says carelessly, flopping sideways along Taehyung’s favorite leather couch, feet propped on the armrest, as he has millions of times over hundreds of years.

“News travels fast,” Taehyung says bitterly.

Jimin smiles indulgently, used to his moody friend. “Not so. But they called on Seokjin to help wipe the memory of the girl who survived before they sent her back.”

Taehyung blanches. “That’s illegal.”

Jimin gives him a dirty look and a scoff to accompany it. “Please,” he says dismissively. “You can’t be that naïve, not in your position.”

The Queen’s words run back through Taehyung’s mind. We’ve covered up incidents like this countless times.

He sulks. “They shouldn’t be breaking treaty laws over me,” he grumbles.

Jimin lets out a sigh. “If rules can be bent for anyone, shouldn’t they be for you? Besides…” He sits up, looks at Taehyung more seriously. “It’s not like one of us went up there willingly, like… on purpose. If someone decided to just fuck the protection laws and go hunting, I’d obviously object to a cover-up. But that isn’t the case here. Something happened to you. They’re not covering up a crime, they’re recovering from an accident.”

An accident. He’d killed two innocent people. Nearly killed a third.

Taehyung drops onto a chair near Jimin’s feet, covering his face with his hands. “Truly,” he says hollowly, the words muffled by his palms, “I have never in over six hundred years felt this deeply guilty about something. Jimin, I killed people. Me. I did that.”

It’s an understatement. There aren’t words – not in any language, dead or alive – to describe the deep, crawling self-hatred Taehyung feels. There’s no phrase for the twist and ache in his stomach when he pictures the scene above-ground – bodies limp on the ground, the echo of screams from the survivor floating away into the uncaring night, blood thick and metallic on his tongue, a wild flash in his eyes.

Jimin shakes his head, lips protruding in a pronounced pout. “It wasn’t you. We all know that.”

“Those people are dead and the fault is only my own,” Taehyung says firmly.

“You weren’t yourself,” Jimin insists. “What did the Elders say?”

The Elders are terrifying, is Taehyung’s take-away. His own father is thousands of years old, and looks like a child in comparison. Infracti are not immortal; rather, under the right circumstances - and often with the help of the magic they can control - they can live for tens of thousands of years. The oldest Infracti that Taehyung knows - not counting the Elders, as he doesn’t know them - is around thirty thousand years old, and weaker every day. The Elders, whose ages Taehyung doesn’t actually know, seem so fragile they might be made of dust, particles held together by magic and force of will. He’d showered three times after leaving them just to get the icky shudders to stop.

“That I’m not ill and I’m not mad,” Taehyung recites dryly, finally removing his hands from his face.

“Which leaves what possibilities?” Jimin asks with a frown.

Taehyung shrugs. “They’re meeting about it right now. I’ve been told to stay in my own wing.”

Jimin squawks. “For how long?”

“Until they’re sure it won’t happen again, I suppose,” Taehyung guesses with a small shrug. “Or until they’ve come up with an answer.”

“Lovely,” Jimin quips sarcastically, and moves to rise. “Well, I’ll check in on you later this evening. I’m sure you’ll be bored, cooped up in here.”

“I’d rather be bored than -”

“I know.” Something new creeps into Jimin’s voice – some kindness, some understanding. “It wasn’t your fault, Taehyung. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Taehyung gives him a nod and sees him out, his stomach twisting and roiling. Only one of those things, he knows, is true.

Sunlight and fresh air assault you as you make your way slowly down the city block, the messenger bag around your body laden with thick books and hastily scribbled notes. The ache in your shoulder from carrying it has been part of your existence for so long that you barely notice it anymore.

You pass a bank and glance at the screen displaying today’s date and temperature, followed by the time. It indicates that you’ve somehow ended up here between buses. You’ll have to wait a bit for the next one.

At least it’s nice out, you think, and settle onto a bench just across from your bus stop. It backs up to a park, and you watch as people bustle by, most of them glued to their phone screens or carrying on conversations into their earpods. In the park, a group of kids is playing loudly, shouts and shrieks rising towards the cloudless blue sky.

“Songie’s team, you’re the Runes!” someone shouts, and it grabs your attention. You smile, watching them gather and form groups.

“It’s not Runes,” someone corrects snottily. “It’s Ruins.”

Actually, you think, hiding a little smile, the proper pronunciation of the powerful Infraci family falls somewhere between the two words.

The ancient language of Infracticus has phonics that most modern people struggle with. As a result, there tends to be two schools of thought regarding pronunciation. Commonly, the families are called the Runes, the Cleaves, and the Scores. At the university that you’d attended, at which you now work, they’d taught you Ruins, Leaves, and Scorns.

But it’s all the same, really.

You watch the game for some time. It’s a lot like freeze tag, and you remember playing it in the schoolyard as a kid. Teams – one Runes and one Scores – try to cross a field past each other without getting tagged and frozen. Teams had elected members called Cleaves, who were the only players who could unfreeze another.

It’s funny, you’ve always thought, how the actual history of the three Infracti families translated into the rules of the children’s game. To be historically accurate, it should have been three teams – Cleaves wouldn’t be members of Runes or Scores but their own faction altogether.

However, you do wonder if their ability to unfreeze players is derived from the Cleaves’ ability to heal, something the other two bloodlines have never possessed.

And is it coincidence that the game became the Runes versus the Scores, when those two families had a particularly ugly blood feud, millennia ago?

All three families have vied for power at one point or another – most known history of the Infacti includes this never-ending power struggle. But the Runes have managed to hold court since the time the protection laws were passed, the ones that both protect humans from being hunted and bans those same humans from doing the hunting. The ones that decree quarterly blood donations from every adult human to ensure there’s never a shortage that could lead to hunting. The ones that declare the monarchy follows only the Runes’ royal bloodline.

Hunting - both of and by Infracti - still happens, of course. There’s no such thing as utopia. But at least now there are consequences when an Infracti attacks a human, and consequences when humans turn to violence to drive Infracti out of their communities.

Questions like this, constant curiosity about the Infracti culture and history, had carried you through dual degrees studying the history and sociology of the Infracti. Now, after nearly a decade of your adult years spent in academics, you tote multiple degrees, including extensive experience with both curses and counter-curses.

Your family hates it - never understood it. Your mother has called it an obsession time and time again. But neither she nor your father can argue with the career opportunities in academia that you’ve been afforded, now that you’re full-time staff at the university.

And they don’t even know about the other opportunities that keep falling at your feet: more and more curse-breaking cases as the years pass. The more your reputation and success rate grow, the more your name seems to be passed around. You think your mother would faint on the spot if she knew that only two months ago your team had flown into deep Brazilian jungle and helped them to cast the counter-curse that freed an entire village from unending rain.

When the bus finally pulls in, bringing with it a warm breeze and the smell of gasoline, you rise, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder and searching for a seat. It’s about twenty minutes to campus unless you catch an Express – and you have no such luck today.

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly.

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim - the department head at the university where you teach - is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon. He was one of your first professors when you showed up here as a bright-eyed undergrad, years ago.

“Twenty minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse.

“I have a class at ten thirty,” you warn him. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It won’t take long,” he promises, and you agree to stop by before ending the call and turning your attention back to the bus window.

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter.

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk.

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack.

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology. He has dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, razor-sharp eyes, and - you notice when he smiles in greeting - a deep dimple on each side.

The expression on Dr. Kim’s face is a little strange - almost like he’s nervous to give you the news. You can’t imagine what might be giving him pause, considering your last meeting like this had landed you both in a literal rainforest. Could he have gotten a request for the team to go somewhere even more remote than that?

“We did,” he allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

He sighs, then nods towards his door. “Will you close that, please?”

You reach behind you and gently press the wooden door shut, feeling flutters of uncertainty for the first time in your career. The stranger shifts in his chair uneasily.

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk.

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out.

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know.

“Well?” you prompt, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hasn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noise like he doesn’t quite agree with this. “Anyway,” he says to you, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it.

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you. You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so they’d make sure we were safe?”

Dr. Kim seems to look far-away for a moment, contemplating his answer. You shift nervously, glancing sideways at Namjoon. You would have been reassured by a quick answer - the fact that he needs to formulate a response does nothing to quell your unease.

“I trust we are being invited there for the reasons they say,” he allows. “And so, I do believe the royal family will want us to be safe, yes. But the fact still remains that we will be humans walking around Infracticus. I’m sure we will be given guards - the question becomes, can we trust those guards completely? I fear I cannot say for sure.”

“It’s like walking into the lions’ den,” Namjoon murmurs beside you.

“Quite,” Dr. Kim agrees, nodding.

“Except there’s an injured lion and only we can fix it,” you point out.

“We can’t rely on that to ensure our safety,” Dr. Kim says, frowning more deeply. “It’s a delicate situation. The royal family cannot let it get out that the prince’s well-being has been… compromised.”

Namjoon frowns in confusion. “Why not?”

You think you understand. You venture, “To admit weakness, to admit to having been successfully attacked, to admit that the crown prince is cursed - it would be an open invitation for rebellion.”

“Yes,” Dr. Kim confirms, inclining his head, his white tufts of hair moving breezily. “The Infracti respect the laws that are currently in place, but the crown prince is the last member of the Ruin bloodline. If he were to die, or to be unfit to lead…”

“There’s nothing in the laws about who would rule next,” you finish for him, eyes wide. “It would be…”

“A war for the throne, I imagine.”

You sit in silence for a moment under the weight of this. Then, Namjoon says carefully, “I’m sorry, but can we circle back? The prince’s curse has to be secret, I got that - but how does that affect the safety of our team?”

“We’ll be hosted in the palace as honored guests,” Dr. Kim tells you both. “But no one beyond the royal family will know why. They don’t know that if they slipped up and harmed us, it would harm the prince, too. We can’t assume our purpose will serve as protection. Any Infracti beyond the royal family should be considered a threat.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, turning to face Namjoon. He looks just as bamboozled as you feel, validating your reaction.

“This is wild,” you utter, mostly to yourself. “This is absolutely bonkers.”

“This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. The curse itself must be complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves. If your reason for being there is uncovered due to a fault of our own, we’ll be facing the wrath of the royal family. And I… I’m afraid I won't be able to join you.”

“What? No - you have to,” you blurt, panicked. “I can’t do it without you - you’ve decades of experience over me - I’ve never led a case before!”

“They don’t want me,” he tries to explain. “They don’t want any possibility that someone will figure out who I am and put the pieces together. A simple inquiry of my name blows the whole thing - the first thing they’d find is curse-breaker. As I said - the secrecy of the prince’s condition is vital.”

You scoff. “So they want me because I’m nobody.”

He looks at you kindly, used to your moods. “They want you because you have a high success rate. Your ability to stay… lowkey, as the kids say -”

Namjoon makes a choked sound like he’s fighting a laugh.

“- you should see it as an asset.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” you say, because it’s true. Because it feels safer to have someone older, wiser, with more experience. Because it feels like less responsibility to not be the person in charge. Because it’s what you’re used to, and you cling to the familiar.

He shakes his head sadly. “The royal family will not allow it. I’m sorry.”

You lapse into silence again.

Namjoon speaks slowly, as if a new thought is dawning on him, and he doesn’t like it. “If they suspect the Scorns…”

Your stomach sinks.

Dr. Kim nods. “I imagine you may see the beginnings of some political unrest if an accusation is made.”

“Forget the accusation,” Namjoon says hollowly. “If we uncover that it was a Scorn attack… we’ll be walking into Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening.

Namjoon shrugs. “The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter.

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families.” (You snort at this. As if you ever would.) “Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets.

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turn, and let him catch up to you.

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you do the same, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something.

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

Next ->

thank you for reading! i hope you liked this first installment! chapter 2 will go up next friday!!! <3

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makeawish2020 · 4 months

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Happy New Year || Taehyung x Reader

Summary: They say if your New Year's wish is desperate enough, the Golden Dragon will make it come true.

Genre: supernatural au

A/N: Happy New Year everyone. This is just a New Year special story. I am not sure if I want to continue or make this a series?

There is a folklore legend your grandma used to tell you when you were young. Every night, before sleeping, she spun a tale about a Golden Dragon.

"Listen carefully, my dear," she'd say, "there's a Golden Dragon that appears at midnight on New Year's Day. It has the power to grant wishes, but only if your heart's plea is desperate enough."

Grandma used to say that the mighty dragon represents both good and bad. "Fearsome and destructive, yet it has a golden heart," your grandma would emphasize.

"If you make a desperate wish on New Year's Day, the Golden Dragon will listen and grant it if he likes it."

---

Now, at 25, your friends or coworkers have never heard of that folklore. You sometimes wonder if your grandma made the whole story up.

"Dragons granting wishes? Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel," your friend chuckles.

For New Year's Eve, your friend proposes something different from the usual festivities, opting for a vibrant club in the heart of Gangnam. "Guys, we have to ring in the new year differently this time."

The whole crowd inside the club counts the countdown together. Cheers and jubilant noises fill the air, accompanied by embraces and exclamations of "Happy New Year" that reverberate through the crowd.

After the countdown, the atmosphere is electric, and you and your friends immerse yourselves in the celebration, mingling with others.

Suddenly, a seemingly harmless conversation with a guy takes a dark turn. Unnoticed by you and your blissfully unaware friends, he surreptitiously adds something sinister to your drink.

In a gradual, insidious fashion, the effects of the tampered drink begin to take hold, leaving you progressively lightheaded.

Deciding to excuse yourself, you inform your friends, "I'm going to the bathroom."

Instantly concerned, your friends offer to accompany you, but the creepy guy's friends intervene, blocking their path and engaging your friends in a dance to stop them from following you.

The creepy guy follows you instead. Grabbing your elbow, he takes you somewhere else instead of the bathroom.

"Where are we going?" you ask, your voice barely audible

Without responding, the imposing figure leads you into a dimly lit alley and forcefully pushes you against the cold brick wall.

"I've been waiting for this," he declares, removing your jacket with a menacing intent.

Despite your attempts to resist, your body seems unresponsive to your commands.

Helplessly, you find yourself thrown to the ground. "Don't resist, sweetheart," he warns, positioning himself above you.

Feeling a mixture of revulsion and powerlessness, you lie prone on the pavement. Tears well up in your eyes as his invasive actions escalate, leaving you violated and trapped in a distressing moment.

You look up at the sky and see a full moon. Your grandma's voice echoes, "Y/N if you make a wish during the New Year, the Golden Dragon will make it come true."

So, you close your eyes and desperately make a wish to save yourself from this situation. "Please, anyone.. if you are there... please save me."

Meantime, Taehyung, the Golden Dragon, sits on top of Namsan Tower with a beer in his hand, watching Seoul City.

The resonance of countless wishes fills the air, a symphony of hopeful voices seeking the Golden Dragon's benevolent gaze.

Amidst the myriad desires, one wish pierces through, echoing with a desperation that captures Taehyung's unwavering attention.

"Please, save me." He hears your plea. His keen eyes, reflecting the city's vibrant lights, scan the crowd until they settle on you, in the dimly lit alley, "I will grant your wish tonight," he declares.

With a powerful surge of his majestic wings, Taehyung discards the beer and descends from the heights of Namsan Tower.

Landing amidst the shadows, he witnesses the abhorrent scene – the creepy assailant, a mere mortal, taking advantage of your vulnerability.

Swift as the night wind, Taehyung intervenes, forcefully removing the assailant from your trembling form.

His golden eyes soften as he holds you. He takes off his coat and drapes it around your shivering shoulders.

The creepy guy, still catching his breath, rises and pulls out a knife in a desperate attempt. "Who the fuck are you?" he gruffly demands, launching himself toward Taehyung.

Taehyung dismissively scoffs at the creepy guy's feeble attack. With a mere flick of his hand, he effortlessly hurls the creepy guy, causing him to tumble to the ground once more. This time, he remains down.

Turning his attention back to you, Taehyung observes your shaken state. Though in shock, he is here to fulfill your unspoken plea – to save you.

"Now," he gently prompts, "what would you have me do with this mortal?"

Your terrified gaze meets his. Your erratic breath is the only sound as Taehyung patiently awaits your response.

"Who are you?" you inquire after a moment, finally regaining composure.

His golden eyes gleam, and he locks his gaze with yours, bringing his face closer to yours.

"I am Taehyung, the Golden Dragon. You summoned me, didn't you?"

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #bts fanfic #bts supernatural au #taehyung supernatural au

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interesting-interludes · 1 year

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the comforts of creatures (3)

creature comforts:

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

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

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

→ word count: 4.7k

→ summary: after you wake up in a strange place with strange men, you begin to experience kindness for the first time in months, as the boys begin to realize that you aren’t the person that they used to know.

→ trigger/content warnings: effects of isolation, sensory overload, effects of memory loss, low self-worth, jin is a goddamn sweetheart, mentions of torture, mentions of starvation, angst lol, over-complicated plot cause it’s fanfiction lol, the boys trying their best

→ a/n: also lil disclaimer i am obviously not a doctor so kindly disregard any medical impracticalities that may arise thanks loves :)

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 3: when you forget me

“Who did this to you?”

Staring up into the eyes of the man leaning over you, a shiver runs through your body at the deep, even tone of his voice. For a long moment, you can’t speak, too distracted by the fact that his attention is directed entirely at you.

The dark piercing eyes, the delicate curve of his mouth, the black curly hair hanging over his forehead. It all shocks you still with something you can’t name. Not quite familiarity, but a sense that whoever this man is, it’s a good idea to listen to him.

You sit there choking on your own words as his eyes search your face.

“Are you afraid?” he simply asks.

You nod, tongue dry in your mouth.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. He seems to be staring even deeper into your eyes than before, searching for something.

“Joon,” the man calls, a touch of urgency in his voice.

One of the taller ones, the man with short brown hair, approaches you. And you can’t help but notice his build.

He’s broad with long, thick limbs, no doubt bulked with muscle beneath his many layers. It would be easy for him to overpower you. Hurt you.

Instinctively, you flinch back as he gets closer.

He drops to one knee to meet your eye level, softening his expression when you meet his gaze.

“Hey, hey,” he begins in a calming tone, seemingly sensing your rising anxiety at being confronted. “None of us are going to hurt you. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

You don’t believe him. Of course you don’t. But something about his warm eyes, the deep sincerity that lies behind them, makes you release a breath and nod anyway. Or maybe it’s the way that strange feeling in your chest quivers at the sound of his voice.

Offering a slight smile, he then holds up his hands cautiously.

“May I touch your forehead?” he asks.

As if the rhythm of your brain skips a beat, you reel at the question. He's...asking for permission?

You manage a slight nod, watching him closely as he lifts his hands and places one flat against your forehead and the other at the back of your neck.

The others are watching intently, making the air prickle.

Heat blooms under the man’s large hands, spreading down your spine and into your very bones.

Wisps of smoke dance along the edge of your vision. It seems to be coming from him, seeping from his hands, from his mouth, his eyes, which are now clouded over with a milky white film.

A tickling feeling, like the sensation of a string creeping down your throat, seizes your whole body and mind. It’s hot and cool at the same time, singeing your nerve endings yet soothing them as the sensation travels.

Too invasive, it’s too invasive.

It only lasts for a few seconds before you’re jerking out of his grasp. You huff smoke out of your own lungs, desperately trying to expel the strange force that’s permeated your whole body.

Several of the others flinch too. They all seem to be honed in on your every reaction, twitching when you twitch, breath hitching along with yours.

The man withdraws his hands with a placating expression, rising to his feet and backing away to give you some space.

You barely hear it, but he leans over and whispers in Yoongi’s ear.

“We all need to talk. Now.”

You see the smaller man’s jaw clench. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his entire face darkens.

One blink later, and it’s gone, replaced by an expression so heavy, so broken that it nearly brings a sting to your eye.

The only other person Yoongi can bring himself to make eye contact with is Jin.

His hyung understands immediately, letting his eyelids slowly close as all his suspicions are confirmed. He had an inkling, when he found you in that prison cell and you looked at him like he was a stranger. He supposes that now, he essentially is one to you.

It feels like a hit to the gut. He feels the deep ache in the pit of his chest, raw with the knowledge that what’s done can’t be undone. And it hurts like hell.

But he can’t break down now, not in front of the boys, and certainly not in front of you. Your understanding of the situation is extremely fragile right now, and he knows that he needs to lead by example so you can be as comfortable as possible, so you know that you’re safe here with them.

So Jin inhales a clear breath, swallows down his sorrow, and musters up the most composed expression he can manage.

“Alright,” he begins, the whole room looking at him after he breaks the silence, looking for guidance.

“Let’s get you fixed up, hmm?”

You don’t realize that he’s talking to you until he takes a step forward and gestures in your direction.

“Will you follow me?”

You’re realizing that no one is punishing you for making eye contact without permission, so you meet his gaze with a little less hesitation.

The man waits patiently, nothing but gentle concern in his eyes.

Your skin tingles with the feeling of everyone’s gaze on you again, and after your brain slowly processes the question, you rise shakily to your feet and follow him through a nearby doorway.

It’s only after Jin exits the room, after his back is turned, that he lets a few silent tears fall into his sleeve, quick to wipe them away. Because now he needs to do what he does best: heal his clan.

Exhaustion, hunger, and fizzling adrenaline buzz through your veins, your body burned out from running even a short distance. It’s a laborious task to just put one foot in front of the other, but you focus hard to keep up with the man leading you down the hall.

Every step makes your vision blurrier. You can hear your own struggled breathing, feel the burning in your limbs, but the only thing you know how to do is push on and mask how it feels.

Don’t express emotions. Don’t show your pain. It always makes it worse.

Jin pretends not to notice. He has to fight the urge to offer you his arm to lean on, knowing it probably wouldn’t do any good.

You have no idea how long you were asleep or how long you’ve been here, wherever here is. These men don’t seem like a severe threat, at least not now. They haven’t hit you, called you names, spit on you for making noise. But they could be putting on a front, trying to establish a false sense of security.

You’re not letting your guard down anytime soon.

The two of you come to a large, clean room. It’s well-lit, making you squint your eyes against the brightness.

It’s so bright here. And spacious too. Every room seems as wide as a football field.

The man directs you to a bed lined with paper, and you flinch as you sit down, making much more noise than you wanted.

But he doesn’t seem angered by it, he only turns to one of the many cabinets lining the walls.

The familiar squeak and snap of medical gloves. It puts a heavy pit in your stomach. Clenching your teeth, you try to ignore the swell of nausea.

You hear some shuffling, the clink of glass, and then the man is sitting down in a rolling chair next to the bed.

“Do you recognize me?” he asks, slipping a pair of black glasses out of his shirt pocket and putting them on.

A flash of the ashen, vein-mapped face ignites in your memory.

“Yes,” you reply softly, almost flinching at the sound of your own voice in the quiet room.

“Who am I?” He’s looking at you patiently, but there’s a hint of desperation behind it.

“You were in my cell. You’re a—”

Cutting yourself off immediately, you can’t help but recall all the names your captors used to refer to them.

Parasites. Bloodsuckers. Demon spawn.

The man seems to read your mind, but his eyes stay nothing but patient and kind.

“I’m vampiric, yes.”

He busies himself opening a gauze pad and dousing it with disinfectant. When he looks back up at you, it’s with a questioning gaze.

“May I clean your cuts?”

You sit there dumbstruck for a moment. You can’t remember the last time someone cleaned anything for you, let alone asked for permission to do it as if you have some kind of agency. Or spoke to you so...gently.

After a few seconds of silence, you manage a nod.

He offers a slight smile and starts with the shallow cuts and scrapes on your hands. They are overlapped with scars, dirt and dried blood caked under your fingernails.

His touch is warm. It almost makes you jump, the way his skin feels like human skin. You were always told that they were cold creatures, more dead than alive.

Then there’s the alcoholic sting of the disinfectant. That makes you actually jump, but you fight the urge to pull away in case it ends in more pain.

“I’m sorry, it’s going to sting,” he says.

Why is he apologizing? Why is he treating you like this? Like you’re a human and not a creature?

He moves up to the more deep gashes on your arms, applying cream to the worst of them and bandaging them up.

“My name’s Jin. It’s nice to be formally introduced,” the man says, smiling a little painfully.

It hurts him to say it, to admit that he needs to re-introduce himself to you. But at least you’re letting him tend to your wounds. Right now, that’s all he can ask for.

You sit there silently as he moves all the way up to your shoulders, avoiding putting pressure on the deep purple bruises that litter your skin.

“What’s your name?” He knows it, of course he does. And again it hurts to ask, but he knows that this is the best way to go about it, rather than overloading you with the fact that you’ve been here before, that you already know them all.

The question stumps you. You’ve been called many names. Mutt, beast, savage, monster. You don’t remember ever being called anything else.

The man—Jin—seems to sense your inner struggle.

“Can you remember it?” he asks.

With your eyes trained down at the floor, you shake your head.

“Hmm,” he replies, thinking. “Well that just won’t do. What would you like to be called?”

That stumps you even more. Your mind goes as blank as your memory.

Several minutes of silence pass as he tends to the wounds on your neck and face.

The more he looks, the more his blood boils. Your neck is badly bruised, with painful-looking red rub marks all the way around, as if it’s been abused with a number of different things. A tight fist, a ring of rope, a collar.

Your face is covered in scars and yellowing black bruises. Chunks of hair have been ripped from your skull, not to mention that fact that most of your hair has been sloppily cut.

It all makes him want to tear the throats of everyone even associated with that facility. Looking at your face, at the poorly hidden terror that resides in it, Jin tries his hardest to mask his anger so you aren’t frightened by it.

Jin checks for signs of infection while he dabs at the lesions. He notices that you barely flinch, even when it’s clear that you want to. He wonders, feeling sick to his stomach, what happened in that horrifying place.

“You’ve been through a lot of pain,” he says, and you can hear deep sympathy in his voice.

It’s unusual to you, hearing someone sound sorry for you.

You don’t reply, looking down at the floor again.

A few minutes pass, with him continuing to patch up your wounds while you sit there motionless. After Jin finishes the last bandage, he hesitates, looking at you with another question in his eyes.

“Wound you mind removing your shirt?”

It makes you turn cold, arms unconsciously wrapping protectively around yourself.

“No? Okay, we don’t have to do that,” he says almost immediately, shifting his attention to your legs instead.

“Any internal pain or other symptoms?”

You only answer with a dull shake of your head when he looks up at you expectantly.

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe you for a second.

“It’s okay to tell me. I’m a doctor.”

You still don’t say anything, despite the sharp pain in your stomach and the incessant pounding in your head. Too many times you’ve encountered doctors that did nothing but use their knowledge of your body against you.

The last thing you want to do is admit weakness.

For a very brief moment, Jin’s face flashes with disappointment, and you feel your gut lurch with guilt. The next second he’s gathering more equipment from the cart next to the bed.

“Would you mind if I did a few more basic checks?” he asks.

This time you indulge him with a slight nod, and you’re rewarded with a smile that plumps up his cheeks and makes that something in your chest jump.

He checks your heartbeat, your temperature, your blood pressure, among other things that you don’t recognize.

You accept it all with quiet compliance, still fighting the urge to flinch away with every touch. Because every time he touches you, your heartbeat stalls against your will, heat blazing across the spot where his skin met yours.

He always treats you softly and with compassion, making your eyes burn with the urge to cry.

He removes his gloves after he’s done, tossing them, along with the used gauze, into a bin.

“I’m going to give you some antibiotics to fight infection, and something for your pain,” he informs you.

Again, all you do is sit there silently, head tilted down towards the ground.

Jin fights off a sad frown as he turns to one of the cabinets and shuffles through the many pill bottles. Finding the ones he’s looking for, he empties a few into his hand, grabbing a stray water bottle from the counter.

When he hands them to you, you take them very hesitantly. Your heart rate picks up considerably when he continues to stand there, clearly intent on watching you take them.

Slowly, you take a swig from the bottle and raise your cupped hand to your lips. You feign tilting the contents of your palm into your mouth, swallowing as little of the water as possible in case it too is laced with something. You’ve gotten quite good at pretending to take pills, so he easily believes you.

When he turns around, you spit the water back into the bottle as quietly as you can and tuck the pills into your makeshift pants pocket.

“Alright,” Jin says as he turns back to face you. “Now let’s get you something to eat.”

The air is heavy, sucked dry from the words out of Yoongi’s mouth. The six of them stand there silently, feeling gutted.

Hoseok is the first to string together a comprehensible sentence.

“I...I can’t believe it.”

None of them can. Almost ten years, gone. The years spent living with them, loving them, getting to know them better than anyone else in the world, all wiped away.

You can’t remember essentially growing up with the maknaes. You can’t remember studying spells with Yoongi, nearly surpassing him in knowledge and skill. You can’t remember all the times Jin nursed you back to health after protecting the others in a fight, or when you would explode laughing at one of Hobi’s jokes while still in recovery, Jin snapping at him to knock it off because you’d broken your ribs again.

And all the years spent earning your trust, earning their trust, building your confidence, carving your place in their souls, all gone from your mind.

“How?” Jungkook asks, voice thick with hopelessness.

“A riamemors spell,” Yoongi replies. His arms are crossed as he leans back on the counter, eyes trained on the ground. His expression is unreadable, but they all know that he’s been hit just as hard.

None of them know as much about casting as Yoongi does, not even Namjoon, but almost every Northerner knows what that spell does. It means “death of memories,” and it cannot be reversed.

The F&F has been abusing it for decades. First using it in weak doses on humanic people to keep them ignorant about the realities of atypicals, then using it full potency on atypicals to make them mindless slaves.

They don’t know what that facility was planning on using you for, but clearly they didn’t want you to have your memories to do it.

“How strong?” Taehyung asks. His eyes are glassy, chin wobbling despite his efforts to fight it.

They all look to Namjoon for the answer. One of the abilities of wraiths is delving into a person’s mind through touch, including their memories.

Namjoon’s face holds a deep sorrow. Your head is a very dark place.

“Nearly full strength,” he replies. “We aren’t there. Not at all.”

Half of them feel sick to their stomachs, the other half burn with rage.

“What does she remember?” Jimin asks, eyes glassy.

Namjoon’s jaw clenches.

“A bit from childhood, her parents, and...the facility.”

It looks like it physically hurts him to say it. A long, weighted moment of silence.

“Joon?” Yoongi says, looking up for the first time since they entered the kitchen.

The younger man meets his elder’s gaze, waiting in anticipation for what he will say next. The redness in Yoongi’s eyes makes Namjoon want to hug him.

“What happened there?” Yoongi finally brings himself to ask.

Namjoon’s throat bobs as everyone looks at him once again. It all comes back to him, the pain, the torture, the loneliness felt through your skin. The shadow of it, at least. The memory of it. The real thing must’ve felt much worse.

“Let us see,” Jimin suddenly says, taking an eager step forward.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jimin,” Namjoon replies, gravely serious.

“It would help us get inside her head, see what she’s dealing with,” he argues, looking around for support.

Taehyung and Jungkook look just as eager, while Hoseok looks tempted by morbid curiosity. Yoongi’s trying not to make eye contact, worried that it might give away the fact that he secretly agrees with Jimin.

Seeing that he’s clearly outnumbered, Namjoon lets out a defeated sigh.

“Alright, but just a glimpse,” he says.

They begin to gather closely around Namjoon, until he holds a hand up.

“Not you, Jimin,” he says sternly.

“Why?” the shorter man whines, upset at being the only one left out.

“I really don’t think you should see this. For your own good.”

Everyone knows that Jimin was briefly imprisoned at a one of the same facilities, and every so often he gets triggered and descends into a rapid downward spiral plagued with nightmares and flashbacks.

He looks around and finds the rest of them looking at him imploringly. When he looks at Hoseok and Yoongi, they both give him a silent nod.

Jimin sighs and lets his shoulders sag. Despite the itch of not knowing, he trusts his partners to take care of him.

“Okay, hyung,” he says, stepping away to stand at the edge of the room.

Namjoon takes a deep inhale when they’ve all huddled in a semi-circle around him. Smoke begins to unfurl from his hands, his eyes clouding over. When he opens his mouth, a thick stream of gray vapor pours from his lips.

Everyone leans over to breath it in while Jimin covers his mouth and pinches his nose.

They feel it burn down their throats and warm their lungs, singeing all along their veins until it reaches the depths of their minds.

Then their vision goes dark, eyes clouding over just like Namjoon’s. Cold fear crawls up their spines, the ghost of hunger sitting in their bellies.

A thousand images, feelings, and sensations flash through them.

Countless miserable nights sleeping on hard, wet stone. Being wakened with a bucket of freezing water. Gagging on rotten food scraps to soothe the never ending ache of starvation.

A slap to the face every time you looked at an overseer without permission. Because you are beneath them, not even worthy to see the color of their eyes.

A kick to the ribs every time you made a single sound, every time you even breathed too loud.

The sting of needles, the heat of an iron brand. Electric shocks right to the nerve endings when you fell asleep without permission. Cigarettes stubbed out on your skin.

A spit in the face. Spit in your food, then being forced to eat it because it’s all you have. Having to lick water droplets off the rusted pipes.

Open wounds, tender bruises. An ache so deep it feels like you were born with it. Chained in awkward, uncomfortable positions for hours on end.

Disgusting thing. You are nothing. You will never leave this place. You disgrace the ground you walk on. I wish I could kill you myself.

Jungkook rips away first. He heaves the smoke out with violent, forceful breaths, stumbling back like it will distance him from what he’s seen.

Hoseok and Taehyung follow soon after, jerking away as they try to cough the memories out.

Yoongi lingers the longest. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are brimming with moisture.

None of them can hold it in any longer. Taehyung bursts into tears, face scrunching up with the weight of it all. He turns to the one closest to him, which is Jungkook, and lets his head fall on his on shoulder.

Jungkook automatically puts a comforting hand on his head, fighting back tears himself.

Seeing someone they love go through all that, seeing them get treated like dirt, it hurts it hurts it hurts.

Hoseok nearly bites through his tongue. All he can think about is revenge, making the ones who did this to you regret it more than they’ve ever regretted anything in their lives.

Jimin feels like he might throw up. Not because he’s in pain, but because he’s seeing his mates in pain, so much pain. And their pain pales in comparison to yours.

He’s grateful to Namjoon, grateful that he didn’t let him see inside your head.

Jungkook’s chest hiccups with sobs, and Jimin takes hold of Taehyung so Jungkook can fold up against Hoseok.

Tae buries his head in the fold of Jimin’s neck. Hoseok wraps Jungkook in a bear hug to soothe his hitching breaths.

Yoongi, who’s held strong up until this point, finally succumbs and lets himself go limp in Namjoon’s hold, who was right behind him in case he should need him.

For several minutes, the air is filled with nothing but heart-wrenching cries and quiet snivels.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s safe now,” Namjoon says to no one in particular, still supporting Yoongi’s weight.

Jungkook’s gaze has gone foggy. The hell of that place won’t get out of his head. All he can think of is how he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there to take the pain instead. It should’ve been him.

Taehyung’s balling like a baby, he couldn’t speak if he tried to. His chest is close to bursting, swollen with so many emotions that he can’t decide which ones hurt the most. The pain of knowing what you went through, the rage towards the ones responsible, the guilt of not being there to protect you, the sorrow of knowing that he’s a stranger to you now.

Jimin is torn between breaking down himself and being strong for his mates. He feels the pressure behind his eyes, but he blinks it away and holds Taehyung tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“Why?” Tae asks in a broken voice, finally saying what they’re all thinking.

Why would anyone do this?

“They must’ve not wanted her to know what she was capable of,” Namjoon answers.

It makes sense. You were a skilled caster along with Yoongi, the spells you and him collaborated on were some of the most powerful they’d ever seen. You were incredibly knowledgeable after spending years studying alongside Namjoon, partnering with him during many of his research projects.

You were always sharp, strong, and absolutely deadly in your final form.

“What are we going to do?” Jungkook asks, barely above a whisper.

“What we’ve always done,” Yoongi replies almost instantly, shifting to fully support his own weight. “We’re gong to do what’s best for her.”

Seeing him regain his quiet composure gives the rest of them the strength to wipe the last of their tears away.

“She’s been kept in isolation, starved...tortured.”

They all hear the catch in Yoongi’s voice at the word.

“Her trust in people has been completely broken. It will take some time before she feels safe again, before she can handle a normal diet, before she’s comfortable with being touched.”

That part is going to be difficult for most of them. After all the years of hand holding, cuddling, all the comforting embraces, it’s going to be hard to refrain from trying to soothe you with physical touch.

“No doubt she’s overwhelmed and confused as it is,” Yoongi says, then he pauses like he’s gearing up to say something difficult.

“So I think it’s best if we don’t overwhelm her further by telling her who we are. At least not now.”

Silence. Uncomfortable, choking silence.

“Just...pretend we haven’t met before?” Hoseok says, disbelieving.

“Not pretend, just...don’t acknowledge it,” Yoongi says. “Right now, we’re just a group of strangers that whisked her away from everything she ever knew.”

“We don’t even know how much she knows about what we are. Everyone knows standard protocol for those places is extended brainwashing,” Namjoon adds.

That makes them stop and think. What does she know about atypicals? Did they make you despise them like Southerners do? Do you even know about the soul bond? Do you even know what you are?

“Won’t that make her feel lied to?” Jimin asks.

“I assume she’d feel more lied to if we tried to convince her that she’s known us for years. It might make her feel like we’re trying to trick her into trusting us,” Namjoon explains.

“It might pressure her into trying to remember things she can’t, to be the person she used to be,” Jungkook says, eyes still glazed over.

And all of them know that you’ll never be the person you used to be.

“She has to trust us on her own, not because we tell her that she should,” Yoongi asserts.

Another stretch of silence.

“For how long?” Tae asks.

“Not for long, just until she feels safe here. Until she decides that she want to stay here, Yoongi continues.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says. He doesn’t know if he can pretend that you’re not his mate, like you aren’t a vital piece of him.

“We’ll just take it day by day,” Hoseok begins, seeming more convinced by the whole idea. “Right now, our biggest priority should be making her feel safe.”

Nods all around.

“What...” Jimin starts, voice trailing off with uncertainty. “What if she wants to leave?”

None of them can think of a reply to that.

The next second, footsteps sound from the hallway. The shifters can smell you coming, and you no longer stink of dried blood.

Jin rounds the corner, closely followed by your sluggish form, looking exhausted and shaky.

A jolt of fear in your chest from being confronted by all of them again, and the rest of them feel it in the pit of their hearts. The fact that their own mate feels endangered by them, in your own home, elicits a fresh sting.

There’s moment of dull quiet where nobody moves, too afraid to make a wrong move.

Yet again, their leader guides them in the right direction.

Namjoon steps forward with a warm smile on his face, slouching his shoulders to look less tall and threatening in your eyes.

“You must be hungry.”

a/n: thank you for reading til the end! comment any thoughts or reactions i love to hear them :) sorry if i forgot anyone on the taglist!

taglist: @jeepersjiminie @scuzmunkie @anchovyinajar @btsiguess-kpop @btspurplesky @emu007 @goldeneclipsedragon @serendididy @namjoons-bug @angryperfectionpersona @wittyreader @ariavaana @crazy-person @kyrah-williams @leehaechanlee @jinkajous @dolliecat @reallysparklychaos @xmochiloverx @queen-in-the-shadows @astrids-pandora @kapten-xouk @anonynim @massiekurrb @tito-the-mermaid @bangtannie7 @veronawrites @karlalands @gooooomz @iceprincessviviane @mugiwaraelly @iwuzhere @fl0r4f4wn @welcometomyworld13 @chatsgotmytongue @uarmyhore @djodjom1 @singukieee @ee101abc @effielumiere @slinekyu @azalea-nyx @jcrml @schokoshaker @tirouxdreemurr @blancflms @lovelysneer @blackravena @illnevertrustmyselfagain @mirahuyooo @blank-et-noir @sld88

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #bts #bts ot7 fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #bts x female reader #BTS jin #bts yoongi #bts hosoek #bts namjoon #BTS jimin #bts taehyung #BTS jungkook #bts fanfction #bts fantasy au

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chimcess · 3 months

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→ Chapter Nine: Landscapes Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, very tame A/N: Don't know how I feel about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write. I think you'll understand why in a moment. Thanks for reading!

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Namjoon pov

I stood inside of a small boat house, Bridd’s scent faint, but I knew it was fresh. At least I could give Jimin that. Hoseok said to take a look around outside and try to follow it. I sighed. I had already done that. I had done it yesterday as well, but Jimin demanded I go back to double check. Today’s assessment was much better than yesterday's so I was able to pick up the subtle nuances within it. She had been standing where my feet were planted no more than 48 hours earlier.

“She’s long gone,” Hoseok’s voice was clear in my head despite him being five miles away. “Wonder where she went.”

“Taehyung said something about Viridi Gramine,” Hyuna chimed in. She had been relatively quiet, her thoughts only focused on catching any sign of Bridd. “Do you think she’s headed that way?”

“Doubtful,” I followed the trail from the small cot on the floor to the fridge. “I don’t believe she was ever going to see our cousins.”

Hyuna contemplated this. Hoseok felt guilty. Both of us scolded him for this. He had been hard on himself over the entire ordeal. He thought if he had been able to speak to Bridd and Jimin that this situation would have never happened. Apologizing, the younger wolf went back to wondering where she could have gone.

“Not far,” Hyuna mused.

“She could be out of Moland by now,” I added. “I don’t know which way she would have gone. She might be lost out there.”

That worried all of us. Hoseok knew her better than I did and kept thinking about how little she knew of the outside world. She would have no idea where she was without a map. Hyuna had more faith in her ability to survive out there, and I leaned more towards her thought process. If she needed to fight, she could, and her shifting would lend itself useful regardless. She had probably flown over the swamps and into Clarcton. That would be the easiest and most efficient use of her time.

“That makes the most sense,” Hoseok thought.

Following her scent outside, it stopped on the small deck just outside of the home. She had to have shifted from here. We would not be able to find her. Hoseok huffed in annoyance, Hyuna tried to soothe him, and I could finally pick up my sister’s thoughts. She was worried about everyone, not that it surprised me, Yeong-Mi was always giving herself migraines and panic attacks.

“Shut up,” She snapped at me, her tone biting. I could still hear the stress underneath it. “He’s right, oppa,” Yeong-Mi was talking to Hoseok now. “You can’t blame yourself. We all know who’s to blame for this.”

Sol’s face came to her mind. It was distorted, the Luna’s features not quite right. My sister saw Sol as often as the rest of the village did, and her memories did not do the older girl justice. Mini told me she did not care how wrong she remembered Sol’s face; she had no thoughts of facing the stupid woman anytime soon. Hyuna agreed with a delighted giggle. Hoseok mumbled something about her only trying to help but none of us paid it any attention.

“Sol can’t bear all the responsibility,” I gently chastised my little sister. “Bridd still made the choice to run off.”

“If she had minded her own business,” Mini barked, her stress and frustration boiling over, “-Bridd wouldn’t have run away! God, the nerve. Who would say something like that to Jimin Oppa when we all know just how stressed he’s been?”

“An idiot,” Hyuna bit, her anger surfacing once more. She had always had an issue with Sol. “Between Bo, his brother, and the copiae the man hasn’t had a break.”

I had tried to stay neutral, but I could not help agreeing with Hyuna. Sol had been out of line and overstepped. I found solace in Taehyung’s own reaction to her wrongdoing. The boy had yet to touch his mate since Jimin went into a frantic panic in the middle of the night once he found his girl’s bed empty, and rumors of their constant arguing since the morning Bridd went missing were spreading throughout Bangtan.

“Eun-Jin told me Jimin said she was going to the Ozryn mountains alone,” My sister supplied. “I haven’t been around him since she left, so I don’t know what really happened, but he’s devastated about this.”

Hoseok growled when Jimin’s name came up. Mini took up for her favorite alpha while I reminded him of the situation at large. What Sol told Jimin was a very harsh, unrealistic, misrepresentation of Bridd’s plans. He was reacting on what he knew, or lack thereof, and lashed out. Hoseok vehemently disagreed until Hyuna asked him how he would have reacted if he was convinced she was going off to kill herself after she just recovered from a previous injury.

“She’s alone out there,” Hoseok grunted, his fire burnt out in the face of his wife. “He should have never let that happen.”

“It’s not his fault,” I was pleasantly surprised to hear Jungkook’s older brother, Jong-Hyun. He had been searching the east for a scent but came back around once he realized my sister had left him behind. “They’re both stubborn and I don’t think little miss witch would have allowed him to go. Ji-Hyun said the two of them got into an argument the afternoon she left, and he feels partially responsible for whatever happened between them.”

I growled, “That boy’s attitude is going to get him hurt. Is that why Callisto’s been even more irate than normal?”

Mini laughed, “I think that’s just how she is around you.”

All of us shared a laugh, the tense moment going by. Hyuna and Hoseok had finally found one another, and my sister was their next stop. She was almost to Syrena, and the couple wanted to go for a swim. The rest of us turned down their offer. I did not want to be a magindara’s next meal. Yeong-Mi decided to wait for them so she could keep an eye out for any elves.

Drowning out their voices, I continued sniffing. I knew finding a trail would be next to impossible unless I went deeper into the swamps, but elves could be anywhere. My fear for Bridd came back. I hoped to God that she was safe and watching her back out there. I knew she could handle her own, but she was not infallible.

I sat there, staring out at the brown water, willing it to tell me where to go next, until Hyuna let me know Taehyung was looking for me. My father was concerned about a party of elves spotted in the northwestern corner of Moland and wanted me out of the forest. Jimin was refusing to come home so Taehyung needed me to help him plan strategies. Hyuna had rounded back to meet up with me near Bridd’s cottage.

“We’re leaving him out here alone?” I asked her.

“Of course not,” The small, red wolf replied. “Jong-Hyun and Hoseok are scouting him out. He’s somewhere deep in the forest.”

She was disappointed that their beach trip was postponed but chose not to comment on it. I tried to comfort her in my own way, picturing the two of them swimming and laughing together another day, but she waved me off. She was grateful but did not want to talk about it knowing it would bother Hoseok.

“And he hasn’t found anything?”

“Nothing.”

Stepping into Bridd’s clearing, I admired the wildflowers. She had to have the most beautiful oasis in all of Lustra. Her cottage was surrounded by a beautiful garden filled with vegetables, fruits, and herbs. A large, porcelain bird bath at the very front of the house that, for some reason, never ran out of water. It was odd how perfectly made and curated the meadow was. The Gods must have made it this way so the Bridd would not grow depressed inside. Hyuna was laying in the grass close to the destroyed house. Taehyung said an elf was the one who did all of the damage. Bridd’s scent stuck to the wood, but it was starting to fade.

“I wanted to go inside,” Hyuna looked at the large hole in the front of the house, her mind revealing just how sad she felt. As much as she scolded Hoseok for harboring guilt, she had her own. “I don’t think Jimin would appreciate it. This is the only place that still smells like her.”

“He’s been here,” My friend’s scent was heavy in the air. Fresh. “Is he sleeping in there?”

She nodded, “I think he’s trying to fix the place up. Jungkook was talking about it with Cadoc. Jimin’s obsessed with having everything fixed before she comes home.”

We shared a look. Neither one of us were very hopeful that our little bird would be back anytime soon. I had more faith in her survival abilities than Hyuna did, but neither one of us had any way of knowing when she could realistically get back.

Hyuna remembered her trips to Bangtan back when she still lived in Viridi Gramine. The mountains were harsh, unforgiving, and absolutely lethal. She was a princess, royal and proud in her bloodline, and traveled with the most experienced and strong guides in the land, and still there was always a chance she could never return. After she became of age and found Hoseok, the thought of going through those mountains had never passed her mind before her mother grew ill.

I had never crossed Ozryn myself, but I knew it was a harsh place to be. Hyuna’s memories alone left a chill in my bones. Bridd could very well die out there and no one would be able to stop it from happening. I entertained the thought of Jimin and I leaving Foxglove behind to find her, but one look from Hyuna wiped it clean from my mind. We could not leave the village until we knew more.

Bridd’s death would destroy Jimin, and I was certain Taehyung and Sol’s marriage would fall apart for a time. More than it already had. The Park family would never be the same. For that I desperately hoped she would come to her senses and come home but knew she would not. The little flicker of fire I had seen in those eyes when I showed up to her cottage after Sol’s birthday had told me more about her than the years, we had orbited one another’s atmosphere. She had more in her than Hyuna realized.

“She’s never seen so much of the world before,” Hyuna whispered like we were breaking some unspoken law. “How can she know where to go if she doesn’t know what to look for?”

“She has maps-”

“Maps that predate the industrial revolution,” Hyuna was quick to cut me off. “That girl is blind, and you and I both know it.”

I did not have to speak- we both knew we were on the same page. Still, I told her how fierce Bridd could be when she felt threatened. Showing her our fight outside of the cottage, Hyuna chuckled.

“She’s a fighter, that’s for sure. Still, I worry. When she was in the infirmary all of the witches said that they were used to her fainting spells. How can we know she won’t do that out there?”

I shook my head. “We don’t. We just have to have faith. For Jimin’s sake. For her friends’ sake.”

“And Bridd’s,” Hyuna added.

“And Bridd’s,” I agreed.

A howl echoed through the forest, and I knew I had to get going. Taehyung rarely shifts these days so it must be urgent. Hyuna decided to tag along and wait for her husband at the Temple. She daydreamed of taking a few swings at Sol if given the chance while we ran. I chose to ignore it.

As we got closer to the village, I began to hear the voices of the other copiae that joined the search party. The loudest was Ji-Hyun who complained of his sister-in-law’s melodramatics. Hyuna fought back a snarl, her thoughts murderous. The younger wolf had the decency to drop the subject, but my distaste for him did not change. Taehyung shared my sentiments and told the Park boy to go home for the day. He was able to keep his thoughts to himself long enough to change and our connection severed.

“Irrumator,” Hyuna grunted, her thoughts of Sol swirling into Ji-Hyun.

I chuckled, “He’s young. Cut him some slack.”

“He’s older than Taehyung!” Hyuna barked. “That boy knows better, and what he said to Bridd was so out of line. How dare you defend him?”

I whined, bowed my head, and looked down. Submitting was not something I did often, but I respected Hyuna enough to do so. A fight was the last thing I wanted. Besides, if I had an issue with Hyuna that would mean I had an issue with Hoseok, and that was not something we could not afford right now. Not with this war starting.

“It’s not defending him,” I tried to keep any annoyance for her out of my tone. “I just think this is a time for unity. Arguing and fighting about something we cannot change is pointless.”

She huffed but dropped it. I knew I had won our little exchange and held my head up high. Now, more than ever, we needed to let things go. Taehyung’s thoughts showed his conflicting feelings. While he agreed we needed to come together to fight, to deal with this threat together, he was hurt and angered by his friend’s disappearance. I could see underneath it all, however, he felt betrayal from the one person he held dearest.

Sol brought up mixed emotions of my own. I had wanted her for so long, my longing to be the leader of my people blinding me. When Taehyung was chosen, I was disappointed, but any romantic feelings I may have harbored for the young Luna vanished. Even if my actions after did not reflect it, I was happy for my little cousin.

His wife was never someone I had been particularly close with. She was obsessed with Jimin for years. I could not recall the number of times I could hear her daydreaming about him when we went on walks together. Ahn had asked for me to be her escort when she shifted, and the ramblings of a teenage girl were the last thing I needed to hear. Especially when I found myself wanting to be at her side, to rule and lead, and her thoughts of me only commenting on how ugly I was.

To say she was distraught over Jimin’s lack of interest was an understatement. The poor girl was begging the other alpha to have his way with her- mates be damned. Sol was lucky he was nothing short of a good man. Anyone else might have been tempted, but not Park Jimin. He was kind, cordial, and played with her often, but any sexual advances were immediately shut down. I know why now, and through that lens it was easier to wrap my head around. He was already deeply enamored with another.

Sol’s entire life was flipped upside down once she found herself in Taehyung’s arms. Confusion and disbelief were very prominent at first, but that quickly melted away into adoration. It was as if she had always loved him. For Taehyung the feeling was mutual. Before Sol, he had his eyes set on a local girl called Minji.

Still, I could only guess Sol could not stop herself. It was almost a reflex for her to dote on Jimin at this point. They were closer in age than the rest of us (save Taehyung), though Jimin was a good 7 years older than her, and he was always kind and thoughtful. When she heard that he might be harmed she ran to his side. What she told him, things I only knew because Jimin would not stop thinking about that night, were only meant to help him. She pushed her friendship with Bridd aside to go to him, put her trust with Taehyung under the guillotine, and even risked ruining her bond with Jimin himself in order to protect his heart. It would be admirable if she had thought it over for a few minutes instead of rushing to his house like a bat out of hell, spewing out the most over dramatic and, frankly, not truthful, versions of events.

The argument he had with Bridd was based on what Sol had said. He was already agitated enough as it was. His pack of fifteen had been reduced to seven and the newer recruits were too young. Stress and frustration bubbled over the moment the Luna’s mouth opened. She said Bridd was planning on dying, that the witch was lying to everyone about where she was going, that she was hellbent on making up for her past mistakes. Ridiculous, and while partially true, it was spoken by a teenage girl who did not listen to a word the messenger had said. At that moment all Jimin could hear was his mate marching to her death so she could make up for keeping her mouth shut.

It was still strange to think about what Bridd did. I was annoyed she had kept her visions to herself but that faded once I realized that she was terrified and could do nothing. We were not on good terms. Foxglove had removed themselves completely and Ahn had not been quiet about his plans to go to her cottage. I could not blame her for feeling hesitant to say something when she was not sure what the threat could be. Ahn could have had the witch killed.

“He would have been a fool,” Hyuna mumbled.

“When wasn’t he?” I asked rhetorically.

The others all shared my sentiment. Bridd was the last person to blame for what happened, and her actions the minute she realized what was happening showed how much she cared. Cadoc helped those who were on the fence come back on our side. The way he described waking up and seeing the little witch girl who fumbled and fought by his side, broken and bleeding, was enough to make the toughest cry. When he said the second her eyes opened all she could think about was getting to Foxglove as quickly as possible any whispers of her being ill-intentioned were dashed away. Only a select few still felt weary of her, Ji-Hyun being one of them, but they were at least attempting to be decent for the pack’s sake.

We were at the village’s edge now and I parted ways with Hyuna. She gave me a brief goodbye before leaving me to shift. I was more private than the others, especially Hoseok and Hyuna, and they were used to giving me the space I desperately craved during the shift. It was my most vulnerable moment and I hated feeling seen.

We had various items of clothing hidden within Bangtan. None of it was meant to fit well or be personable, but it was practical. My mother was in charge of keeping the copiae clothed and taken care of a job that she took very seriously, and it was one of the only things my father felt proud of. He would often put her down and tell her she needed to do better, be better, and all of the other strange demeaning slogans the older men in town harped on about. I had never been able to see the fault of any of the women, my mother even more so, but she never commented on it and neither did I.

I found a pair of large, baggy pants and shifted. Putting on the cotton garments, I decided to forgo a shirt and made my way to the Temple. Taehyung was waiting for me, and I would not cause him undo stress. He was dealing with so much already and I did not want to add to my cousin’s weight. I think I have done enough of that already.

Walking through the town, I caught sight of Jimin’s mother. She was helping Jungkook’s father cut wood for his roof. The Parks were a strange family. Mi-Jeong was outspoken, loud, and fierce. She did not bow down to men the way the others did, and her stubborn streak was only rivaled by her youngest child. My own family often spoke of her ‘atrocious’ behavior, but I was only ever endeared by Mi-Jeong.

Ji-Hyun had been a quiet kid, favoring his mother more with his sharp features and moss-brown eyes. He followed his brother around for years and Jimin never complained. That lonely quietness followed him into his teenage years, but when he fell in love with a human girl that forced a fierce, possessiveness to form. He fought for her, both verbally and physically, and that changed him. His attitude was horrible, always defensive and quick to judge, but he had a love and devotion for his family unlike anything I have ever seen. Somehow, even more than his older brother.

Jimin, for all his faults, was someone who had always fascinated me. From the time he was born he had the village at his feet. His father had been a strong, powerful man who was every bit the wolf our people expected. His choice of bride was bizarre, but everyone was sure if anyone could handle Mi-Jeong it was Ji-Won. Jimin, like his father, bore all the hallmarks of a Park. Charming, witty, and courageous. What set him apart, however, was the sweetness he kept hidden away from the others. I saw it. I had always seen it.

The first time was when I watched him chase after butterflies in his backyard. He was no older than four, but at that age boys were expected to show signs of maturity. In public, Jimin was the picture-perfect child. However, as I watched him blow bubbles, giggling a sound so sweet it made my teeth hurt, before taking off after a monarch, I knew whatever he was doing was an act.

I frowned. His sweetness was showing once more, now very publicly, and I was not sure how he was handling it. He was not allowing anyone to speak with him, shunned his closest friends, and was hiding away waiting for the other piece of his heart to return. Such a strange sight, Park Jimin weak and in pain.

Mi-Jeong caught my eyes just then and I could see it in her as well. She was so sad, so worried. I hoped her family would come together but doubted that would happen. At least, not until Bridd came back. If she came back. I shuddered to think about the fate of the Park family if she did not return home.

I did not stop to speak to anyone like I normally did. My mind was too scattered and, frankly, I was done with conversation. Having a constant cycle of thoughts and voices in your head would do that. Luckily, no one seemed bothered by my silence. We were all living in uncertainty since losing one of our strongest fighters.

“Anything new, dog?”

I grit my teeth. I knew that voice. It was grating in its smoothness. Taking a deep breath, I turned to look across the way.

Of course, he would be here.

Seokjin had become my own personal hell over the last few days. The man could hold a grudge and had still not forgiven me for lunging at his friend. Now he was standing there, a stern look on his face, his eyes filled with disdain. Beside him was a face I did not see as frequently. Yoongi looked worse than ever. He was thin and frail, much frailer than he had been before he was blinded, and his hair messy. His eyes were even bluer today than they were when I had last seen him. His pupil was nearly gone.

“Unfortunately, not,” I deadpanned, trying to get out of this as quickly as possible. “There’s still a few out searching, but I was called away.”

“Hmft,” Seokjin crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes darkening even further. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, not liking the tone in his voice.

I did not like much about him.

“You don’t care if you find her or not,” He replied, his voice dripping with anger. “None of you do.”

I was exasperated, “You know that is not true-”

“It’s that bitch’s fault she’s gone,” Seokjin shouted over me.

“Stop yelling,” I was attempting to keep myself calm. We were causing a scene. My father was going to be furious. “I’m aware of what Sol has done. Neither one of us are happy about it, but I’m not God. I can’t turn back time just like I can’t bring her back. What’s done is done.”

“Yet you still follow her orders like some lap dog.”

“I follow Taehyung,” I corrected. “By extension, that means I follow his wife. We are at war, Seokjin. I’m sorry about Bridd, truly I am, and I hope she is alive and well, but my life does not revolve around her. I have a village to protect, a village she is not in, and I will not leave it to burn to go on some wild goose chase.”

Seokjin’s face was red now, his eyes moist from unshed tears. I could not help but pity the fool. Bridd was a close friend of his and she abandoned them. It was a harsh word to use, but that was the only one that truly captured the anguish the witches felt. I could not say how the others were doing. They made their disgust for our governing bodies known the night she went missing. Sol banned them from returning to the Temple after the woman who was always hanging off of Seokjin’s arm shouted at her. None of us had seen their little group leave the Park house since.

“You’re going to let her die,” He finally spoke, the accusation a punch in the gut.

Yes, I would let the witch girl die if it meant saving my own. She was nothing to me. We were hardly friends, and while I respected her, that did not mean I would choose her over my sister. Being here was far more important to me than that woman’s life. If the stakes were not so high then I would gladly hunt her down, but that was not the life we were living. I had to trust that she knew what she was doing and be okay with it.

“Jin,” Yoongi stepped in. I had forgotten he was there. “Let it be. Namjoon has done what he can. Let’s go back to Mi-Jeong’s.”

I was glad he seemed to be more reasonable than Seokjin. Stealing another look at him, I was pleased to see his hair was growing. That meant he was eating well enough. It was a shame no one knew how to help his condition. I could not imagine losing my vision within a blink of an eye. Then I remembered that he did not just lose it. Yoongi had been in agony, his head felt like it had been slammed through the thick cement of the castle walls, and his fear sent him into panic attacks. Samanya told me she had only ever seen it happen once. The spell should have killed him, and he was lucky to have survived with only his eyesight lost. I doubted he felt that way.

“But-”

“Drop it,” The raven-haired man stopped Seokjin before he could get another word in. Without looking, he addressed me. “I apologize for his callousness. We are all worried. I hope you understand.”

This was the most I had ever heard him speak, even counting the time all of us had been at Bridd’s cottage in the Spring. “It’s not an issue. I hope you are better.”

It was unnerving to talk to someone who did not look at my face. Yoongi stared out towards the south end of the village, his eyes untrained and unresponsive, and he showed no signs that he was having a discussion with anyone. Even his voice remained monotone and unwavering. Gruff and smokey while the intention was flat.

“I am fine,” He replied, “We are here because my mother was interested in how far you believe she could be. I will let her know that she must have shifted, and her scent was lost.”

“Thank you,” I replied, impressed he was able to keep Seokjin quiet for this long. “She was inside of a houseboat for a few hours before leaving. Any ideas?”

“Thelma,” Seokjin grunted. “Must have slept and then taken off. Was anything missing?”

I shrugged, “I couldn’t say. I’m sorry.”

Seokjin shook his head angrily.

“No need to apologize,” Yoongi raised a hand and dropped it immediately. I had no idea what he was trying to do but decided it did not matter. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

Seokjin seemed to open his mouth to argue but decided against it. I smirked triumphantly. I should keep the blind witch around more often. He had the perfect effect on the annoying one. Scowling, Seokjin wrapped an arm around Yoongi and turned back toward the direction of the residential district.

Taehyung was pacing when I finally found him in the Temple library. Books were scattered about the tables, a few pages torn out stacked messily on the edge of the large oak table he had been sitting at. His blonde hair was shaggy now, the back of it just past the nape of his neck while the rest hung just below his ears. My little cousin kept thick wavy bangs that fell over his eyebrows which were now so long they had to be held from his eyes back with a headband.

I was worried for him. He was frightened and slowly losing his composure. He was able to hold it together long enough to make it through meetings with the elders. He refused to show them any weakness. He did not want to prove Ahn right. However, anyone could see how much the pressure was starting to affect the young boy. Jimin was trying to keep him sane through this, but he was dealing with his own problems.

I had taken it upon myself to pick up where he slacked. I owed it to the both of them after my part in their exile. Taehyung was better at forgiveness than Jimin, but the both of them had given me grace I did not deserve. I was lucky. Other men might have taken my head after the show of disrespect. Jimin very well might have if he was not so concerned with upsetting his mate.

I needed to stop thinking of them. Taehyung had called me for a reason, and I had to be there for my cousin. His pacing did not slow or stop when I came in, so I was sure he was not about to talk war with me. He seemed to calm down when we talked about strategy.

“Sorry for taking so long, Tae,” I kept my voice low and calm.

He paused his pacing to look over at me. His eyes were red-rimmed and wet, his cheeks swollen and flushed, and his lower lip could not hide its tremble no matter how much effort he put into it. Taehyung’s emotional vulnerability had always confounded me. He was so sweet and kind, gentle and warm, and had never made any real efforts to change himself. He laughed at his clumsiness, skipped when he was happy, and played with his younger siblings like the giant child he was.

Likewise, he was never afraid to cry. When Jimin’s father died neither he nor Ji-Hyun shed a single tear when around others. I knew better than to foolishly think the boys did not sob into their mother’s shoulders during the night, especially Jimin, but the town was thrilled by their show of “bravery.” Taehyung did not know how to put on that mask as perfectly as Jimin had.

Taehyung’s father did not die as honorably as Jimin’s had, no final acts of courage protecting his wife from a stray pack of wolves. Just sickness. Ahn called him a weak man for allowing something as insignificant as an infected wound kill him. No one really thought the same way he had but made no effort to disagree with him. Not to his face, anyway. My own mother had said Ahn was cruel for putting down an already grieving family, and she was one of his loyalists.

“I hadn’t noticed it had been that long,” He mumbled before going back to pacing.

He had never looked more like his father. Dong-Min was respectable, wise and honest, but never a man others flocked to. He had been an artist from Viridi Gramine, and while his paintings and scrolls were the most beautiful in Nantgarth, he was not seen as someone important. When he met Hana, he had found his muse, and she adored his soft-spoken demeanor. She came from an abusive home, and her father had beaten her black and blue the night she ran to Dong-Min. The two ran away from Withertusk hand in hand, his sister’s house the only place he knew he could go, and their troubles ended soon after arriving in Foxglove.

“You’re upset,” I broached the subject bluntly. Taehyung preferred it that way. “What’s the matter?”

“Have I done something wrong?” He asked me, his voice cracking. He must have started crying again. “I want your honesty, Namjoon. Please. Tell me if I have done anything horrible to her.”

“To who?”

I went to comfort the boy. His shoulders moved with his cries, but he was surprisingly quiet. It had never crossed my mind that he was desperately trying to cover up his pain from the others, his discomfort so noticeable I had assumed he had forgotten the act. I was always getting things wrong with Taehyung. The only thing he could do was shake his head, close his eyes, and let a fresh wave of tears overtake him.

I embraced him then, his crying making me uncomfortable. The last time he shed tears on my shoulder had been his father’s funeral. It was after Ahn had told him tears would not bring his father back. He tripped running out of the building, unable to breathe in the presence of the chief, and scraped his knee. Blood flowing down his leg, pants ripped, and black clothes covered in dust, Taehyung begged me to hold him when I found him. My father came to check on us sometime later, and in a rare act of kindness, took the younger boy to our house to clean up.

“You could never wrong her,” I was not a good comforter, but I hoped words of encouragement would help. “Whatever happened between you two to have you like this is only a wrinkle in time. Sol is angry with herself. She loves you and knows how dearly you love her.”

Tae sniffled; his cries muffled against my shoulder.

“Not Sol,” He cried. “Y/N.”

That seemed worse to me. I could easily give him meaningless fluff about his mate. Their love was a given. He had been very angry with her about speaking to Jimin behind his back, but I knew they would work through it in time. Trust had been broken but their bond would conquer that. His friendship with the witch was a different story. I had never seen it with my own eyes, but I knew it was strong. He looked at her like the older sister he never had, his thoughts said as much, but I did not feel equipped enough to help him through his grief.

“You did nothing to her, Tae,” I reasoned. I could do logic. “She made a choice to leave and held no ill will toward you. She even left you a note with your necklace. Doesn’t that say enough?”

The red gem was pressed against my skin. Bridd had been so sweet to Taehyung and smiled after everything he said. The gift was a kind gesture he had not truly earned after such a botched introduction. Still, she had given it to him just as she gave me that journal. Ironic that she had given it to me to write about adventures and it had instead become my poetry book. He had refused to take the necklace off since reading the letter.

“I told Sol,” He whimpered. “I told her after she asked me to keep quiet. It’s all my fault-”

“I’m tired of the blame game,” I sighed, gently pushing Taehyung. Now an arm’s length away, I took a hold of my cousin's shoulders. “Everyone has been doing nothing but feeling sorry for themselves. Y/N chose to leave this place to find help. No one is forcing her to do that.

“You and I both know how capable she is, right? Stop acting like she’s dead, Tae. The girl knows what she’s doing, and if she doesn’t, I’m sure she’s smart enough to figure something out. Stop allowing guilt and fear to distract you from what’s important. She left to find some ancient being to help us survive this fight with the elves.”

“What if she…” His voice trailed off, unable to put death in the universe.

“Then we make sure it’s not in vain,” I let go of him. “We plan, strategize, and prepare to fight tooth and nail against those things. For Bridd.”

I did not really want to swear on her name this way, but I knew it would be something Taehyung latched onto. She was not really my friend, but I could live with fighting in her honor. I respected her enough. It worked and Taehyung’s eyes held more heat than they ever had.

“For Bridd,” He said it like a prayer.

Internally, I prayed she would come back soon. I was not sure if this fire would last, and I was afraid of what might happen if it was left to grow out of control. As long as I knew Taehyung, he was obsessive. When he was a boy, he painted like his father. When he got a little older, he sculpted like our grandmother. Early teen years Taehyung was dead set on learning how to garden. That soon shifted into learning about all of the plants in Bangtan. Now, I worry it will become this war. Taehyung was not ready for what was coming, but I had to believe in him.

“You should go and see your mom,” I told him earnestly. “I’m sure Jong and Jin miss you.”

I did not add my worries over him being locked away in the Temple since he got back.

He nodded, “I will. Let one of the maids know I’ve left. I don’t want Sol to worry if I’m gone.”

“You’re not telling her you’re leaving?”

He frowned, “We aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.”

Oh, Bridd why did you have to leave? Why did Sol have to run her mouth? I could not bear to see Taehyung look so defeated. The flames that I sparked in him did not ease my worries. He was still lost at sea, and I fear I had done more harm than good. I should have let him cry and whine. That was easier than trying to navigate if I had said or done the right thing or not.

The rest of the day flew by. After my conversation with Taehyung, he left to see his siblings and I stayed behind to get some work done. Despite our war plans we still had obligations to our cousins on the east coast. After writing for a few hours, warnings and heeds against traveling included, I went back to our maps. The library was filled with them, and I hoped a fresh start would help us get a breakthrough.

All talks of war had gotten loud and angry quickly with my father and Jimin at odds more often than not. I loved my dad, but I couldn't help but doubt his methods. He wanted to march to Northorn and meet our enemy there. Jimin saw this as idiotic. The elves would have an easier time fighting our kind on an unknown field. No one knew the forest like our pack did and we could use that to our advantage. If we were lucky, the elves might find a way to disturb the other creatures that lived here. Even luckier if it happened to be the fae.

Unfortunately, I was not as well versed as either one of them. I knew how to fight and was very good at it, but my skills in a tactical situation were severely lacking. Whenever Jungkook joined the conversation the two of us were on the same side of the debate. We did not want to die but would do so if asked. He, like myself, favored Jimin’s plans. Staying in Bangtan was the most logical step for now.

The rest of the witches from Syrena arrived late in the afternoon. They were loud and angry women, their rage burning bright enough to scare the most well-trained fighter. I felt sorry for them. They lost their leader during the attack and were now relying on the swamp woman to guide them. Thinking of them made me think of Yoongi again.

He had seemed to be adjusting well enough, but fighting would be pointless. He could not see a target. He was dead weight. I frowned. Such a pity. He was a great fighter and I had been impressed with him during the attack. The only way they were able to stop him was that spell and it only took him out temporarily. I had a feeling he would be back on the battlefield even if he was told to stay away. His death would be a respectable one.

Seokjin was another one that surprised me. As much as I disliked the witch, I could not deny the man knew how to fight. He took down elf after elf, defended his girlfriend, and saved his father’s life. I trusted him enough to know he would defend my pack with the same veracity and hoped we could place our differences aside to train together. It would be helpful to all of us if we could find a way to fight as a cohesive unit. I would speak with Jimin about it later.

I smelled her before I heard her. Her feet were normally bare and freezing cold, but I doubted she cared. Rose stuck to her honey-sweetness, and I had to hold back a gag. Sol always tried so hard to cover up her natural scent, but I knew it was not her fault for being so self conscious about it. Ahn had destroyed most of her individuality, made her second guess herself constantly, and called her ugly on numerous occasions. Jimin and I heard it all through the years, Hoseok as well but to a lesser extent, and we tried our best to keep her company.

Jungkook was the most vital member of her circle, but he was hardly around anymore. He was trying to give the couple space, and Sol had been happy with that until a Bridd left. Now Jungkook stayed away to avoid getting caught in the middle of their tug of war. I could not blame the boy. He was too young to be of any real emotional support, and he wanted to stay in Jimin’s good graces hoping the older man would allow him to join the copiae now that Ahn was not around to stop him.

She knew I was in here. She was coming to find me. Her little feet pitter pattered against the marble floors. The west wing was the most luxurious part of the Temple and the place Sol and Taehyung slept. The library here was huge, painted in white and gold, with thousands of books. Spiral staircases led to the second floor where more bookcases were lined up. That was considered the “ancient section” where one could find scrolls and books from our time in Korika. That was Sol’s favorite place in the entire Temple.

She stood in front of me, her hands clasped in front of her little body, and her toes wiggling. Her hair was not covered, something that made me feel deeply uncomfortable, and cascaded down her back. It was beautiful, thick and black with natural waves. Averting my gaze, I stared at her toes. They were small and cute.

“Luna,” I greeted. “Your hair.”

She sighed as if expecting me to say something. She was almost annoyed. I could not figure out why. Modesty had always meant something to Ahn and Sol, and her hair was called “impoper.” Ahn made it seem like it was inherently sexual simply for being beautiful. Not many of the other women in Foxglove would wear a head covering, but I always respected Sol’s choice. She was upset right now and not thinking straight, and I worried she would regret walking around me so exposed.

“Does it matter?” She murmured. “We all know I am no longer virtuous.”

I frowned, “Your virtue is not tied with your virginity, Sol.”

I was more aware of my bare chest than normal. It was improper for the two of us to be alone like this. Family or not, it was wrong. Taehyung would be hurt if he caught us in such a compromising position. I stood and put some distance between us, taking extra care not to look at Sol.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked. “Aside from the obvious.”

Walking over the library entrance, I leaned against the doorframe and stared out into the hall. At least I could say I was far away from the luna. I could hear her sit down in the chair I had left, and I waited.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Sol spoke softly.

“Why would I think that?” I countered.

She laughed humorlessly, “We know you’re more in tune with my thoughts than most, Joon. You were there before Taehyung. You were always there. You and I were practically betrothed for a while. At least, that’s what my father said.”

I hated when she called Ahn father. He was nothing to her. Everyone knew Cho Haneul and Bong Ha-Yun were her parents. They suddenly disappeared from the village when Sol was less than six months old, leaving her behind and in Ahn’s care. Whispers spread about what had happened to them, but I always believed what my mother said. Ahn banished the couple from the village and took their child. No one had seen or heard from them in 18 years, so it was hard to say, but I did not trust Ahn. Not at all.

“I was never fair to you,” She continued. “I was mean and rude. Cold. I wanted Jimin so badly, probably because he did not want me, and I treated you like a problem. Maybe it was my own way of rebelling. Either way, I’m sorry.

“I think you understand me more than anyone else. You were always there with me. You never complained. It’s one of the things I always appreciated about you, your ability to stay calm. Taehyung is similar, though not as stoic. I love that about him.”

I did not have to see her to know her eyebrows were pulled down, her teeth nibbling her lower lip, and her leg shaking. Sol was very obvious in her discomfort. Her voice gave her away.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, not unkindly.

“You knew me before Taehyung did. I know you did not really like me very much, but I trust your opinion more than the others. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her voice was tired and worn, and I was not sure what to do about it. Not for the first time I found myself bored of the Luna. I reminded myself of her age, her youth, and her innocence, but it did not change how I felt. She made a mistake, overstepped boundaries and lied while doing so, and caused a mess of things. The fact that I knew her only made it worse, because I knew she did not consider a single person outside of herself. I doubt she thought anyone would be angry with her. In fact, she was probably hoping for praise and attention.

“Am I a bad person?” She asked, her voice weak and frail.

“No,” She was not a bad person for what happened, “But I won’t lie to make you feel better. You should not be trusted by anybody after the stunt you pulled.”

I heard her sniffle, “It’s not my fault he said the things he said. He chose to be cruel and mean to Y/N. She decided to leave! How is anything my fault?”

I rolled my eyes. Typical. Not even her gentle cries stopped my genuine annoyance with her from shining through. I had not been there for the argument between Jimin and Bridd, nor his conversation with Sol, but his thoughts had been enough to get me up to speed. She had done nothing but stir the pot between them, well intentioned or not, and made all of this far more dramatic than it needed to be.

“It’s your fault your relationship is suffering. It’s your fault that the pack is angry with you. You did that. No one else. Actions have consequences, Sol. You and I both know that,” Sparing her a brief look over my shoulder, I refused to let her tears soften my resolve. “If you were hoping I was going to lie to save your feelings, you were mistaken. Go to one of your maids and cry to them. They’re trained to dry your eyes, but I’m not.”

She did not speak and so I decided to leave. I had been here most of the day now and needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night. The Temple was the last place I wanted to spend time in right now, but my options were limited. Maybe if I could find Sam, she would not mind making space for me in her bed.

I fought back a smile. She was an amazing woman, her beauty striking and confidence refreshing. We had found ourselves alone a handful of times since her people came to our aid and our flirtatious relationship was amusing. I had come to know that quietus was not monogamous and rarely took on a full-time lover. She only knew of her king and queen, but they had another woman who joined them after the Century War. Sam and I shared a laugh about how scandalous that would be in the village, not just a threesome but same-sex relations, but I had not truly entertained her advances. She was not someone I imagined myself with.

I did not want to go to my family home either. Being around my parents for too long would drive me insane. I was always putting on a front with my father and my mother refused to stand up to him. Most of my childhood was spent getting beaten while my mother watched, relieved that her own punishment was over. By the time Mini came along those days were in the past. When my dad stopped drinking our relationship got better, a little less violent, but I never got rid of the resentment I held. Sometimes I truly believed I hated both of them.

I had been sleeping at Hoseok’s the last few nights, but he had asked for some privacy, and I got too caught up with work to ask someone else if they had any space for me. It was a far cry from the lavish room I had within the Temple, but I could not stand being there most of the time. I would have joined Jimin and the rest of the copiae, but my job was important enough to give me pause. If I stepped down as head council that would mean that my father or Bo would be placed in charge of public relations. I would eat my own shoes before letting that happen. Taehyung would go insane if those two were the only ones left in charge.

I thought about other friends I could visit. The Parks would open their door for me, but they were housing such a large group I felt awful going there. Yoongi and swamp witch’s families were still there. Jin’s little group was with Taehyung’s family, and the Syrena witches were spread out between a few wolf families and the humans. They were originally planning on staying at the Temple, but Sol made a mess of that. I sighed. Everything went south so quickly.

“You look lost.”

I stopped walking. I did not realize I had walked into the copiae grounds. Jimin was sitting on his porch, a large glass in his hand and a dark look in his eye. I could smell the alcohol on him from across the street. Going to him, I tried not to think about my dad.

“You’re drunk,” I took the glass from him and sniffed. Mead. If I had to guess, from Jungkook’s house. “This isn’t going to make you feel better.”

He shrugged, “I know. Just wanted a distraction.”

For the third time today, I was being asked to support someone. Even if Jimin had not asked for help directly, I knew I was going to drag his ass inside and make him go to sleep. At least I knew I could stay here afterwards. In the morning, I would make sure he ate and then try to convince him to come to the Temple and look over documents. He was the battle guy.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated bluntly. “I’ve already had to deal with two crybabies today and my emotional battery is drained. So, you’re just going to do me a favor and then we can talk in the morning.”

He scoffed, leaning back against his house. A faint sheen of sweat covered his body, and his hair was tangled. Jimin never looked so unkempt before. Showing no signs of moving, I rubbed my face roughly.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Look, how about I cut you a deal?”

He did not reply, but I decided to keep going anyway.

“I need somewhere to sleep. I can’t stand being around Taehyung and Sol right now. And you-” I gestured at his body, face tight, “-look like shit. Obviously, you’re upset but the pack needs you to pull it together so we can get through this.”

He was like a statue. “I’m going to stay the night, and tomorrow we’ll talk about feelings or whatever. Then, you and I are going to come up with a plan to get you back in the game. How does that sound?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, laughing humorlessly, “What’s the point?” His face crumbled and again I felt lost at sea. I could not deal with him crying. Thankfully, he gathered his composure. “What’s the point of anything? Without her… it just doesn’t matter.”

I sighed and sat down beside him. The wood was cold and rough, but it was easy to put that out of my mind. I had to think about this as two friends talking. Jimin had never asked me for anything, and when Taehyung was chosen, he had been the first person to tell me I needed to stand my ground against Ahn. I had been foolish at the time and ignored his advice. Now he needed me to stand my ground against himself, and I had no other option.

We could not go on like this. Jimin was not in the right state of mind right now, and I knew the only way to get him out of it was Bridd. My brain was already devising a plan, one that I had thought foolish and improbable this morning, and I wanted to laugh. There was no way we would be able to do it, but maybe bringing it up would make him feel better? Maybe knowing that someone would help him find her if we got the chance would motivate him to get work done. Feeling guilty, I decided to go for the jugular and deal with the consequences later.

“I know you're hurting right now,” I tried to soften my tone, but could not hear if it had worked or not. "I can't imagine how you feel. I know when you and Taehyung were gone how the guilt ate me alive. It must be worse for you."

"You don't have to say anything," He tried to interject, but I brushed off the comment like he had not said anything.

"I think I do. No one else is, apparently. We're in deep shit right now Park," I put my hand on his shoulder. "We need you, man."

He shook his head, "I wouldn't be much help right now, Joon."

"I don't believe that," I replied. "In fact, anything you do would be more helpful than whatever the hell you got going on. Your girl is on my side, by the way. She'd be on your ass if she found out how much you've been slacking."

That made him laugh quietly.

"That's fair," He was smiling, dazed and flushed from the alcohol. "She's such a little firecracker, isn't she?"

I nodded, "She tried to set me on fire once."

We shared a laugh at the memory. Truth is she terrified me. If she wanted to kill me that day she could have. If she did not have to worry about the sun, there was a real chance I left her house with more than a few scratches and bruises. Jimin beat my ass when she got hurt, but I had the added benefit of a lifetime worth of memories stopping him from taking my head off. I did not have that with Bridd.

"What if I wagered you something?" I asked.

That got his attention, “What?”

"If we get through this next wave of violence on top, I'll help you find her out there."

He looked at me, eyes more alert than they had been in days.

"Truly?"

The guilt made my stomach twist painfully. I did not truly believe we would ever get to that point. Elves were everywhere, the fight in Northorn growing in their favor as the days went by, and we were nowhere near ready. We had lost so many in this fight not to mention talks of traitors.

The alliance with the quietus was shaky at best without the proper bonds being formed. I was the only person in a position of power even attempting to reach out. Then there was the witch problem, and the only person I could see mending that fence was Jimin. It could be weeks, maybe even months, before we could go after Bridd. Still, I had to use her as leverage. We needed strong leadership right now and the witch was the best source of motivation one could come by.

“I’ll go with you,” I doubled down. “We can have a small party. I’ve made friends with a quietus who knows her way around so finding her could be fairly simple.”

“You’d do that for me?” I could tell he was genuinely surprised.

I nodded, “If we're in the position to do it, why not?"

I could see him thinking about it. The faraway look in his eyes was gone giving way to a refreshed, almost serene look. He was going to go for it. Hope blossomed in my chest. If I had Jimin on my side, Taehyung would be a piece of cake. He desperately wanted to make amends with the older alpha. Seeing the two of them back in action would bring Hoseok back into the fold as well.

Already our odds were turning. Soon the elementals and witches would be joining in on our meetings, the elder council getting pushed out for a new crowd of leaders, and the war would finally seem less daunting. I might even be able to convince a new wave of warriors to join the copiae once the village saw Jimin's new resolve.

"Stay here as long as you need" Jimin finally said, and I was cheering internally. "You can take the couch."

I stood up, ready to go to bed, and pushed his head playfully. He chuckled, swatting my hand away. We used to mess around like this all the time as kids. Jimin always ended up winning our wrestling matches. He was too slippery.

"Let's go, kid," I stretched my arms above my head. "We have to get up early. Council meeting."

He nodded, asking me to help him stand. He must have drunk more than I thought. It takes a lot for alcohol to affect us this much.

"Hopefully Taehyung will get rid of the two dinosaurs in the Temple," He slurred, walking inside grumbling about his bed feeling too big.

A/N: So Joon pov??? How do we like? He's not the only pov switch we're going to have, but we will be seeing a lot of our favorite (to hate) alpha joining our main squad. I thought he would be a good outside mind to get inside of since he's not as emotionally connected to Bridd as the others. Any guesses as to who our other switches might be?

p.s. These pov chapters will be a bit shorter than our normal, reader pov ones, but not by much.

Taglist: @greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz @chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

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