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Did It Hurt? | Flicker of Hope

↳ FallenAngel!Taehyung x LostSoul!f.Reader ⤜ Fallen Angel AU, Strangers to Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 15,057 ⚠️ Crass language, unwanted drunken advances, being drugged, blackmail, descriptions of past sexual acts, hidden desires, criminal activity, alluded to SA & potential human trafficking/disappearances, Tae has feelings he’s trying to suppress, scars/vulnerability over past incidents

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Taehyung, 100 years into exile, somewhere in Los Angeles

“Did it hurt?”

The words barely carry over the clamor of the nightclub. But, to Taehyung, they’re as clear as if they were spoken right into his ear. It makes his lips twist in disgust. Because who actually uses that line anymore?

Taehyung flicks his eyes over the scene in front of him. It’s a Friday night, and the place is filled with gyrating bodies and thumping bass. Some frat-boy wannabe is practically crawling into the lap of the goddess—and that’s thought with the utmost respect because it’s precisely what she looks like in her sleek black minidress, vibrant auburn curls, smokey makeup, and red-bottomed heels—sitting at the bar, trying to enjoy her fruity cocktail.

The way she angles her body away from the guy and pointedly stabs the little plastic red saber from her drink into a chunk of pineapple floating on top should be sign enough for the douchebag to clearly see she’s not interested.

“Idiot,” Taehyung murmurs under his breath before bringing his whisky on the rocks to his lips and taking a measured sip. He drums his fingers on the lacquered tabletop where he’s seated at one of the hightops a few feet away. This is one of his usual haunts, a place with the perfect blend of class and an underlying taste of debauchery. It should be the ideal hunting ground, however it remains to be fruitful. Though, perhaps his luck is about to change.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that. Humor me. Did it hurt?”

There is a moment of hesitation with how the woman’s shoulders hitch up, and Taehyung watches as varying emotions flick across her face before she trains it back to a neutral expression. He can read her like an open book; too bad Douchebag can’t seem to. She’ll entertain him simply to avoid confrontation and make a scene. It's supposedly a polite way to try and thwart unwanted male attention; he’s seen it far too many times before.

“Did what hurt?” comes the exasperated reply. Her lips twitch into a strained smile that’s more of a grimace which Douchebag probably mistakes for being coy. The way her body curls in on itself, and she leans away from his pawing hands, makes Taehyung grind his molars. Human men are stupid; it's no wonder he’s had such a hard time finding any redeeming opportunities in the world.

“When you fell from heaven, angel.”

And there it is. Taehyung rolls his eyes, finishing his drink. “Insipid fool, of course it hurts to fall from Heaven,” he grumbles. A burning, phantom itch crawls up his spine, a reminder of just how much it hurts. It’s a moment in time that he relives every time he closes his eyes. Which, perhaps, can be blamed for why he’s grown so callous and flippant over the years. Nightmares will do that to someone, Seraphim or not.

“Does that really work?” the woman bites out before downing the rest of her drink and shoving the empty glass away. She’s out of her seat and trying to give Douchebag a wide berth before his snail brain can even catch up with her words.

It’s comical watching him finally get it. He throws his head back and guffaws loudly before stumbling in her direction. She goes to sidestep around him but is stopped short when she bumps into a barstool someone just slid back as they stood. Douchebag crowds her against the bar, and Taehyung is tempted to intervene, but something niggles at the back of his mind; he’s curious about what she’ll do.

“You tell me, is it working, angel?”

A saccharine smile curves her lips, baring her teeth in a mockery of flirtation. Taehyung wishes he could read her as easily as he did earlier, but somehow, she’s masking her emotions and intentions to the point her form nearly blurs across his vision.

“That remains to be seen. How about you let me try?” Her words are light and airy, intentionally being falsely sweet. Douchebag’s alcohol-soaked brain doesn’t pick up on the trap he’s about to fall into. Taehyung is thrilled. “Did it hurt?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at him. “Did what hurt?” Douchebag asks, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in what he surely believes is a sexy manner, but Taehyung thinks it comes off more like he’s constipated. “Me kneeing you in the balls.”

The words accompany the action. Her right knee comes up, and all Taehyung can see from this angle is the sudden doubling over of Douchebag. He sways heavily to the side, unsteady on his feet, as the woman pushes by him, a triumphant smile half-hidden behind a hand as she disappears into the crowd.

“How clever,” Taehyung muses to himself. He spares one last glance at the man still cupping the front of his jeans before following the tug of intrigue that’s swiftly escaping on 6-inch heels. He catches sight of the woman just as she slips out the front entrance of the bar.

It’s easy to pick her out on the sidewalk. Even if it weren’t for the distinct click-clack of her shoes on the pavement, he’d be able to follow her by sheer feeling alone. It’s been decades since he’s felt someone so clearly, so viscerally. Taehyung can’t stop until his curiosity has been satiated.

The woman doesn’t hail a taxi or head toward a railway station. She only goes a few city blocks down before she cuts across the street, her eyes flicking both ways as she crosses to the luxury apartment building on the corner.

Taehyung catches the flash of a sleek black and red card as she passes the porter. “Evening, ma’am.” The guard gives her a nod before bringing his attention back to the sidewalk.

There can only be one place that card gains her access to—the top floor penthouse. Taehyung gives the surrounding block a cursory glance, looking for the perfect vantage point. He appraises the angle of the top floor windows before skirting around the back of the building and quickly vaulting over the security fence. If his presence raises an alarm, he’s unaware of it as no one appears to question him.

It’s typical of these kinds of places. There is plenty of security on the front side, with no open windows and no direct buildings across that will allow someone to peep in on the residence. But, on the backside, past all the lavish greenery and the immaculate tennis and basketball courts? Taehyung glances up at the zigzag of the fire escape on the building directly behind the condominium highrise. Just as he expected, all it will take is him climbing the iron platforms, and he’ll have the perfect view through the backside of the penthouse.

He begins his ascent, easily pulling himself up and over the railing of the fire escape and making quick work of the several stories until he lines himself with the one he needs. The condominium is a few floors shorter than the building he’s scaling, making it even more comical that there is so little thought put into the security back here. Anyone worth their merit could do precisely what he’s doing. It’s laughable…and alarming.

Settling in on the fire escape platform of the eighth floor, he glances around to be sure whoever is attached to this particular landing won’t stumble across him somehow. The curtains over the windows are drawn, with no lights coming from within. Taking a calming breath of the tepid night air, he dangles his feet over the edge of the platform and rests his arms on one of the support bars of the railing.

Unsurprisingly, he made it up here faster than the woman, who he presumes must have taken the elevator. He’s always been known for his speed, even more so when he’s on the prowl for something. He might have lost his wings, but he’s kept nearly everything else: speed, heightened senses, and a penchant for picking up on the emotions of others. It’s insufferable, being neither mortal nor fully immortal, but a mockery of something in between.

From his vantage point, he can only see the penthouse’s elaborate sprawl of patio, the pool, and the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the entire back wall. The inside is dark save for the soft blue LED lights from the sleek kitchen appliances and an under-glow along the bottom of what he assumes is a flatscreen TV on the wall.

A few minutes pass, and then Taehyung watches as the light from the upper elevator lobby spills into the space, illuminating a sliver of the grossly opulent penthouse. The woman flicks a switch on a panel on the wall by the entry, and the living space floods with bright, white light. Everything is modern, with sleek lines and glaring metal.

Confusion makes Taehyung tuck his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to connect the decadent, vivacious creature that the woman is with such a jarring and emotionless space. It doesn’t make sense. Unless…

Taehyung smiles as he watches the woman pull out a black leather billfold from where it is hidden in her cleavage. She flips it open, briefly thumbing through the thick wad of cash and the pockets dense with credit cards. Even from this distance, with his heightened vision, he can clearly make out the license behind the plastic pocket. The smiling face belongs to none other than Douchebag from the bar. She picked his pocket. Taehyung can’t help but laugh with delight.

And now Taehyung is almost sure he knows why the penthouse doesn’t look like it belongs to her. It excites him to consider the prospect of finally getting an inkling of the mysterious puzzle that this goddess has become for him. In fact, he’s reasonably certain if he waits just a little bit longer, it will be confirmed.

A noise Taehyung can’t hear must draw her attention because she shoves the wallet back into her cleavage before spinning around. The door to the penthouse swings open, revealing a well-dressed businessman with a slimy grin on his face. Taehyung hopes all the more that he’s right about his guess.

The familiarity the man has with the place says it all. He tosses a set of keys onto the table by the entryway and toes off his brown leather brogues while undoing the buttons of his brown and cream tweed jacket. The jacket gets hung up in a closet, though the man’s eyes never leave the woman standing in the open living space. Her back is to Taehyung, so he can only guess that she’s speaking to the man with how he reacts and how attentive he’s being.

A predatory smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he advances on the woman. She stands her ground, her shoulders rolling slightly back as her chin tilts up. Before the man can grab her, she deftly moves to the side and pointedly directs herself to a wet bar across the living room. The man laughs, though it is silent to Taehyung’s ears, the thick double-paned glass proving to be more than even his hearing can work through.

It plays out like a silent comedy before Taehyung: the man gabs on, gesturing animatedly with his hands, probably boasting about his latest business conquest. At the same time, the woman remains silent, pouring him a finger of scotch. What the man doesn’t notice, for all his attention being focused mainly on himself, is the small packet of powder the woman produces that ends up tipped into the scotch glass.

She turns with a false smile on her face, offering the drink to the man. He takes it with a flourish and downs all the contents in one gulp. Carelessly tossing the glass to the side, where it lands on the leather sofa, he reaches for her again, only to come up short as he stumbles. He’s on his knees before he can right himself, a look of pure bewildered confusion on his face before his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he pitches forward in a heavy heap.

Taehyung smiles, his curiosity doubling as he tries to piece together what might happen next. What started as a bit of entertainment at the bar has come full circle into a spectacular show that Taehyung is grateful he has a front-row seat to. Maybe he’s finally getting a break after nearly one hundred years of searching. Perhaps this is his path back into the Arms of Grace…or the failure that will seal his fate in the 9th Circle. He sighs, resting his chin on his forearm where it’s draped over the support bar of the railing, and waits patiently.

🤍🤍🤍

Roy Simmons is an arrogant pig; there’s no doubt about that. Even passed out the way he is with his mouth open and drool beginning to drip from the corner of his lips, he still looks every bit like an asshole, which is precisely why you’re doing what you’re doing. He’s just the next rung on a long ladder of revenge.

This is your third time coming to Roy’s place. The first was to establish contact, the second was simply to dig your claws into him a little more, and now you’re ready for the grand finale. But, it’s not like you want to be here, not really. It’s just a means to an end. Well, multiple endings. It puts a stop to creeps like Roy from hurting innocent people, but it also puts you one step closer, the final step really, to him—Lorren Bianchi, the man responsible for the death of your best friend, Danika.

She died two years ago at the hands of Bianchi. It was supposed to be a routine night, just something to earn a little extra money as Danika put herself through nursing school. She had become an escort; nothing serious, just being arm candy for rich men. But, it went sideways…really sideways when she met Lorren Bianchi. The man put a leash around Danika’s neck and never let her go. It still pains you to think about it. The only balm to ease the ache is the prospect of watching him suffer the way she did.

Roy works for Bianchi. As have all the other losers you’ve sunk your teeth into over the last two years. They’re all part of the same end game. You’re climbing your own corporate ladder of sorts; one built from blackmail and seething hate. Speaking of which, you turn back to Roy, shoving his shoulder with your heel until he rolls over onto his back.

Grabbing his wrists, you heave and jerk until you manage to drag him across the floor and into the adjoining main bedroom. This penthouse is the one he uses when he wants a night away from his wife, which is more often than not. You know he gave her an excuse tonight of working late so he’d just crash at his downtown place before coming home tomorrow morning for the weekend.

It makes you feel bad thinking about the woman who attached herself to such a despicable man and how you’ve knowingly slept with her husband. But, it’s honestly the leverage you need to take Roy down. You know they signed a hefty prenup, required by her father when they got married. The perks of coming from another well-to-do business family, you suppose. If something happens, she walks away with over half his money and holdings in the business. He would go from being in the top ten wealthiest men in the city to just another blip on the radar. Which is why you know he’ll crack; he’ll give you exactly what you want.

Maneuvering him onto the bed is nearly as tricky as it is to strip off his clothing. You think maybe you should have waited to drug him until he was already naked and on the bed, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. Finally, once you’ve gotten him positioned into the middle of the bed, his pasty, fleshy body spread eagle, you dig for the restraints you know he has installed in the posts. You tighten them around his ankles and wrists, perhaps a little tighter than they should go, but you can’t find it in you to care; let him hurt.

Because he’s a sick fuck, you know there is also video recording equipment in the closet. The asshole has an entire box full of discs labeled with not names, no, but features. Big tits, round ass, blue eyes, braids, chin dimple…the list goes on, each DVD with their own scrawl in permanent marker. You stumbled across them the second time you were here when you managed to put him into a drunken stupor to the point he passed out in the shower, leaving you to snoop.

You were looking for anything that might hold a list of his personal contacts. In the end, you found that and so much more, which is why you bumped up your finale for Mr. Simmons. The sooner you take him down, the quicker his grubby hands stay to himself, and he can’t lure in any more unsuspecting women.

Grabbing the tripod from the closet, you position your phone on the contraption, angling it to get a full view of the bed. As you stand there, assessing your work, you get a weird tingling sensation between your shoulder blades. Oddly, you feel like you’re being watched. Though, you know, being in the penthouse, that should be impossible. There is no building directly behind the condominium.

No matter how much you twitch your shoulders and tell yourself to ignore the sensation, it won't disappear. So, to humor yourself, you turn and peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the back wall of the bedroom. The glass stretches across the entire backside, broken up only by the backdoor and the vertical supports between each giant pane.

All you can see is the back patio. The lip of the pool is just barely visible, highlighted by the twinkling fairy lights strung around the garden. The closest building is easily a city block and a half away, with enough room for tennis and basketball courts to separate the condominium property and the next building. It would only be possible for someone to be watching you if they had some sort of telephoto lens or something.

But that would mean Roy knew, or someone else figured it out and had been following you. Which, at this point, let them watch. You have enough evidence to bury half the city as it is. What you’re doing might be illegal; blackmailing someone is never smiled upon, you don’t think. However, you’re confident you’d get a clap on the back for a job well done instead of a clap on the wrist with a bit of metal.

Roy begins to groan and shift around on the bed. Which means it’s showtime.

You click the button to record as soon as he utters, “What the fuck?” Only it comes out half coherent and accompanied by a generous dribble of saliva down his chin. It would be just like him to look like a blubbering man-baby as he comes to. He’s whimpering between mutters, finally gaining enough coherency to realize what’s happening.

“Hello, Roy,” you say, drawing his attention to where you stand behind the tripod holding your phone.

“Ginger,” Roy sighs what he believes is your name, in relief. “Ginger, baby, what are you up to? Is this some new kink you want to try out? I have to say, I don’t know if I’m a fan.” He chuckles nervously, tugging at the restraints. “Loosen these for me, will you, baby?”

“What’s the matter, Roy, don’t like being the helpless one?”

He smirks, tugging more, trying to sit up. The ties are tight, leaving little slack for him to move much other than his central bulk. His hips flex, the flabby meat of his stomach jiggling as he wiggles around. “Okay, baby, I’ll bite. What do I gotta do to get you to take these off?”

“Do you remember what we did last weekend?” you muse softly, laying the first layer of the trap.

Roy gives you an appreciative up and down. “You mean when I shoved your face in the pillow and pounded your sassy little tail until you screamed? Or how about when I shoved my cock so far down your throat that you gagged?”

You internally roll your eyes, not wanting to break character just yet. “Sure, Roy, what else?”

“Let’s see. Oh, can’t forget how I sprayed my cum all over those pretty tits of yours before I made you rub it into your skin.” The flaccid appendage between his thighs gives a jerk. “That was probably my favorite part.”

Your skin crawls at the memory. You nearly scalded yourself in the shower once you got home, turning the water so hot it made you cry out, and the heat lingered long after. “I’m not the first, though, am I? The first you’ve done all that with, I mean.”

“Awe, Ginger, baby, all those other women meant nothing to me. You’re my favorite. Now, let me show you just how much I love that tight body of yours. Untie me.”

You step to the side of the tripod, and Roy’s eyes light up in triumph. “Hmm...I don’t think I will. Not until you give me what I want, at least.”

Roy wiggles his hips. “Come take what you want, baby.”

You can’t help but laugh, the peeling litany echoing through the room as you give in to the dark humor of the situation. “Oh, Roy, that’s hilarious. You could be a comedian.”

The smile slowly leeches from his face, and lines appear between his brows as he narrows them. “What the hell are you going on about? Untie me. Now.”

“It’s simple, Roy. The last thing I want is your wimpy dick. Once was enough and quite pitiful, I might add. Though, while we’re on the subject of sticking your dick in places, why don’t you say ‘hello’ to Miriam and explain to her why we’re even having this particular conversation?” You nod at the phone on the tripod.

He pales, sweat popping up along his receding hairline. “You’re lying.”

“Oh, how I wish I were,” you say, reciting off Miriam’s phone number to prove how much you’re not. “All I have to do is hit send, Roy, and you can kiss seventy-five percent of your assets goodbye. Prenups are a bitch, huh? If I’m not mistaken, part of it specifically says no affairs or adultery of any kind. Hell, with that, she might even try to take more than that for simply being the disgusting asshole that you are.”

His struggle stops, and you can audibly hear him swallow. “What do you want from me?” he asks, licking his trembling lips.

You reach back and turn off the recording, quickly sending it off to several different places, so you have copies just in case. You tell Roy just as much, giving him a pointed look when he tries to open his mouth to protest. “What I want is very simple, Roy,” you begin before laying it all out for him. His eyes grow wide as you explain, shaking his head in protest with each additional request until you’re almost sure tears are gathering in his eyes.

“That’s impossible,” he whispers thickly.

“You better hope it’s not, for your own sake.” You grab your phone and turn to leave, knowing the maid will find him when she comes by to clean in the morning. “Oh, and Roy?” You glance back over your shoulder at him, “Don’t do anything stupid, like trying to find a way out of this. You deliver, or I do.” You shake your phone, waving it at him as a reminder of what you have.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

In all his years among mortals, he’s never found himself so wholly and utterly intrigued. There have been instances, especially in the early years of his exile, where he found himself hounding after anyone who even remotely seemed like a redemption opportunity. He salivated at the prospect of serving his time and swiftly regaining his wings.

Heavens Above, there was even a time when Taehyung thought perhaps if he could find a damned soul and deliver them as soon as possible, it would curry favor with his Brothers, and they would welcome him back sooner than his one-hundred prospected years. He gave up that pipe dream around the twenty-year mark.

It’s not that he’s grown to enjoy the mortal plane, not exactly. There’s just something freeing about being able to live a little and breathe deeper without worrying about stepping on toes or crossing some divine line drawn in the sand. These thoughts are kept personal, of course.

Taehyung knows if his Brothers ever caught wind of his musings and the way he’s grown to resent them over the years, they’d slam the Pearly Gates and throw away the key along with his wings, which are probably covered in dust and molting away in a corner somewhere. That phantom itch comes alive once more, lingering heat and pain web across his shoulders before he can stop it.

Directing his focus back on the woman, he watches as she saunters from the room, all haughty confidence and severity. It’s not until she’s out of sight of the pitiful man on the bed that her shoulders droop like there’s a heavy weight bearing down on them. He can see it now, something he was distracted from before; there is a haggardness around her bright eyes and a tightness around the curve of her lips.

A sensation he hasn’t felt since—well, since one hundred years ago—twists in his chest as he watches her dig through the coat closet by the door. Taehyung’s brows draw down as she pulls out a backpack and stands there staring down at it. The fact she’s lingering in the penthouse worries him. He’s unsure what she’s doing or what the bag is for. She didn’t come in with anything that he could see, no purse or clutch. Spinning on her heel, she marches back to the bedroom, startling the man on the bed. He starts to yell at her, Taehyung thinks, based on how wide his mouth opens and how red he grows in the face.

It’s comical, watching the man cut off whatever he’s saying and nearly swallow his tongue when the woman holds up her phone threateningly. Taehyung wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but he’s slowly been putting together the pieces, he believes.

She moves to the closet, stooping down to the point Taehyung can only see the red bottoms of her heels and the barest hint of the curve of her ass. He swallows hard, tucking away the tempting thought that springs up with that appraisal. Sexual deviance is what landed him where he is. It’s a fine line to walk, which he’s mostly avoided for the last hundred years.

A few moments later, she emerges from the closet, the backpack bulging. The man closes his eyes, his lips pressed into a trembling line as she moves back across the room and exits once again. This time, she doesn’t stop, swiftly making her escape through the front door.

Taehyung looks down, contemplating how long it’ll take him to descend and make it back to the front side of the building in time to catch the woman coming out. He stands up, lightly brushing his hands along his slacks, and absently smoothes his white dress shirt. He might have dressed a little more appropriately if he had known he was going on such an adventure tonight. As it is, the suede Tom Ford loafers on his feet have acquired some scuffs and unsightly stains.

Before he can lament over his shoes anymore, he quickly makes his way down the zig-zag of the fire escape. Taking his time, he traverses the condominium grounds and easily climbs back over the fence before leisurely strolling down the service alley and onto the sidewalk just as the front door swings open and the porter bids a good evening to the goddess. If the porter finds it odd she is leaving with a bag she didn’t go in with, he doesn’t mention it.

Following a dozen feet behind, Taehyung watches as the woman slings the backpack over a shoulder and takes off at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. Again, she doesn’t hail a taxi or head toward a railway station. She either lives nearby or perhaps has an ulterior motive to avoiding those places in particular.

Considering his long legs and stride, it doesn’t take much to keep up with her. The heels slow her down considerably as well, but Taehyung also realizes that she’s on the slighter side, height mostly being attributed to said shoes, it seems. It’s hard not to watch her body bounce and sway because of them, too. They cause an exaggerated sway to her hips, which already seem quite daring on their own.

Clearing his throat, he forces himself to think of something other than her hips, like what’s in that bag that was so important she chose to go back into that bedroom. Taehyung’s curiosity doesn’t need to last long as she turns down the next cross street and approaches a nondescript apartment building. There is no porter out front, just a simple iron gate in front of a quaint garden that she gains access through with a keycode.

If he were anyone else, he would miss the code completely, being several yards behind her. But he’s not anyone else; he’s Taehyung—a fallen angel complete with heightened senses, including eyesight. 1306, and he has just as much access as she does. Perhaps it should feel like a violation of her privacy, but considering what he witnessed her doing earlier, he feels it’s mildly justified. Now, to just get a little closer.

“Hello? Excuse me?” Taehyung calls out, shoving his hand in his pocket and grabbing whatever his fingers close around. He glances at his hand, noting the two rumpled one hundred dollar bills now pinched in his fingers. “I believe you dropped these just a moment ago as you crossed the street.”

Cool, calculating eyes flick over him before landing on the proffered bills. She didn’t drop them, but if anything he’s observed proves helpful, he’s reasonably sure she’ll take the bills–the bait–anyway.

Her appraising gaze settles on his eyes for a moment as if she’s trying to gauge whether or not he’s a threat before they dip to the money again. She hesitates only a second, long enough that Taehyung knows she’s far more competent than he gave her credit for. She’s cautious, which is good.

“Hm,” she softly hums. “So I did. Thank you.”

The touch of her skin against his is electric, a zing that he’s experienced a few times over the last century. It’s the feel of a soul on the brink of disaster, a subtle taste of darkness lingering around her edges. Taehyung doesn’t immediately release the bills, wanting to brand the feel of her fingers brushing alongside his for as long as possible.

“You’re welcome…” he trails off, raising his brows and tilting his chin in question.

“Ginger,” she offers, a fake smile straining her lips as she gives a sharp tug to the money, pulling it from his fingers.

The name grates, sliding over his mind like razors. A lie; of course she would give a false name. It’s poised on the tip of his tongue to call her bluff, to implore for her real name, but he knows he needs to tread lightly with this one.

“Ginger,” he repeats, the name pinching his tongue with the lie. “Charmed. I’m Taehyung, Kim,” he tacks on to see if the name might trigger something for her.

Her eyes flick over him once more, what might be mistaken as recognition flashing in their depths. “Yeah, okay. Thanks again, Taehyung. Have a good evening.”

It’s a dismissal. He knows that and can sense the unease that’s thrumming from her body, so he relents. Stepping back, he nods his head and makes to go back down the sidewalk from the direction he approached. “You, too,” he calls over his shoulder to the already empty sidewalk.

Taehyung stops just shy of the next building, listening to the telltale signs that she’s gone in. The soft snick of metal, the hushed tap of her heels over the front welcome mat, the equally quiet click of the door opening, and her murmured “fucking hell” before she steals away beyond it.

It’s easy to follow, punching in the four-digit code he observed. “Seventh floor,” Taehyung murmurs to himself as he watches the digital display above the elevator stop. It’s fitting, he thinks, considering she was just on the seventh floor of that highrise, binding that businessman to the bed. Maybe seven is her lucky number. He hopes so; he’s partial to it himself.

🤍🤍🤍

Tonight could have gone much better, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. An easy smirk slides onto your face when you toss the two hundred dollars on the dining table. “What a fucking idiot,” you muse to yourself, proceeding to drop off your other winnings for the night. Douchebag’s wallet makes a satisfying thud on the glass surface, thick with cash and untold possibilities. “If you wanted to give up two just to say ‘hi’, I won’t complain.” Though there is something you feel you should know, something about his name almost seemed familiar.

You shrug and turn your attention to everything else. Fingering the zipper on the backpack sobers you quickly, the random encounter downstairs disappearing from your thoughts completely. The DVD collection is far less enjoyable of a prize tonight. It’s daunting to think about how long it will take to try and track down the victims. Because that’s what they are to you. Even if they knew about the recordings, which you’re certain most didn’t, it still feels like a gross violation that Roy hoarded them like sick treasures.

“So itchy,” you grump, grabbing a fistful of the stark auburn curls atop your head. With achingly slow movements, you ease the wig away. The tape and glue tug, but with a practiced hand, you finally get it off with minimal irritation. It joins the pile on the table, to be dealt with when you have more energy. Right now, all you want is a shower and your bed.

You don’t bother turning on any of the lights, intimately comfortable in your own space that you can navigate it with your eyes closed. Abandoning your heels by the table, you shrug out of the body-hugging dress, leaving it in a puddle somewhere between the living room and your bedroom, and make your way to the bathroom.

All you want to do is take a shower and fall into a near-comatose state for the next twenty-four hours while you wait for Roy to deliver. The shower part goes well; the hot water helps to relax the anxiety and tension that seem to reside permanently in your shoulders.

However, once you slip beneath the duvet and close your eyes for sleep, your body feels like it’s high-strung with electricity. Restlessness hums beneath your skin. Not wanting to spend the next several hours trying to convince your body it needs sleep, you feel around in the side drawer of your nightstand until you find what you want.

The sleeping pills go down dry; you don’t have the energy to get up and grab a glass of water. Now, to just wait for them to take effect. You fuss with the edge of the duvet, folding the fabric and rubbing it between your fingers over and over. The goosedown and satin set is one of the only luxuries you’ve allowed yourself over the last two years. It’s not that you’re punishing yourself. You just don’t want to waste extra time or energy on creature comforts when so much still needs to be done.

Your chest aches every time you stop to think about Danika. She would berate you for spending so much time focused on her rather than going out there and living your life. You just can’t help it; in many ways, you feel responsible for what happened. Sure, you didn’t make Lorren Bianchi kill her, but you might as well have delivered her right into his murderous hands.

It was your idea to sign up for the escort service, swearing it was just for fun and extra money; that surely all those movies and shows were just being dramatic for cinematic reasons. Oh, how you wish that were the case.

Not a single day goes by that you don’t think about how much you wish it were just an exaggeration. The icing on the cake, though? Lorren was supposed to be your client. But you got your schedule mixed up and overbooked yourself that night. Danika said she could use the extra cash and volunteered to take the commitment.

Everything changed after that. Lorren poured thousands of dollars into wining and dining Danika over the next few months. She slowly started to pull away, spending time with him even outside the allotted dates scheduled with the service.

Then, one day, you woke up, and she hadn’t returned to your shared apartment. It was excruciating waiting an entire twenty-four hours before calling the cops and an even worse week waiting for them to do something. They never did. It wasn’t until a month after you first reported her missing that something happened. Her body was found, floating down the Los Angeles River just outside Burbank. Strangled, tossed out with the trash.

You’ll never forget being called in to identify her remains. Danika had no family, just you. Her parents moved to the States from Russia when she was just a few years old. They both passed the summer before sophomore year in high school, putting her in the foster system. You met her freshman year of college. She was your dorm mate and started off so quiet and reserved. Little did you know she was just trying not to fall apart on the inside.

One night, you came in late from a cram session in the library to find her crying, sitting in the middle of the floor with faded family photos arrayed around her. She tried to apologize and beg off talking, but you slowly coaxed her into opening up. You had been inseparable ever since.

It’s not fair. She was far too young and had so much more to give in life. Graduation was just around the corner when it all came crumbling down. You try to summon the memory of her laugh, just to have something to cling to, but it’s muted as your thoughts grow fuzzy. The memories fade, and the pain and ache from the loss of Danika washed away on a pill-laden sleep.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

It’s been two hours since you–his goddess–disappeared upstairs. He doesn’t stop to think about how he’s already considering you to be his; it just feels right. And who is he to question that? Taehyung has long since stopped sending up prayers; they are never answered anyway. However, for some reason, he finds himself taking a moment to center himself, which consists of a quick mutterance of peace. It’ll have to do.

There are four units on the seventh floor. But it’s easy enough to guess which belongs to you. Two of the doors are decorated in full-blown holiday decor, bright colors and themed welcome mats. He doesn’t have to know you deeply to understand that’s not your style. The last two are more similar. Though, the closer he looks, the more evident it is which unit is yours, considering the ‘BYOB, bring your own babes’ welcome mat situated in front of one. For some reason, he doesn’t think that’s quite your style, either. The far more plain, yet inviting, ‘welcome’ is his guess.

The lock on the door is easy to pick. There is no security, no cameras or electronic keypads, which would ruffle his feathers—if he still had them. He’ll have to address that later, once he’s established himself within your life somehow.

The door to your apartment opens on silent hinges once he slides the small set of tools back into his wallet. They’re something he took to carrying around after locking himself out of his own place one too many times. A key is so easily lost, such a small, tedious, and fumbly little thing; even tucked in his wallet, it would often fall out.

Taehyung doesn’t have friends, per se, so it’s not like he can let someone hang on to a spare for him. He used to luxuriate in the solitude, spending countless hours sequestered behind closed doors as a means to reflect on his actions and seek repentance. Now, though, he realizes he’s grown quite lonely—no time like the present to change that.

Closing the door just as softly behind him, he toes off his shoes and takes in the space around him. He can tell instantly that he was right in this being your place, it smells of you. It’s not as lavish or garishly expensive as the penthouse was, but it’s also relatively devoid of personality. There is no permanence to the place. Very minimal, and as if you could easily pick up one moment and be gone without a thought of much effort.

So, you’re a runner. Or some close equivalent. That could prove troublesome for him if you decide to pick up and move off now that whatever game you were playing with the sleazeball from the penthouse seems to be done. He’s not sure how easy it would be for him to track you. So, he now wonders, is there anything else keeping you here? He hopes to find the answer to that somewhere among your scant things.

It doesn’t take long to browse through the kitchen and the living room. There are only a few dishes in the cabinets, nothing fancy, just the basics. There is a sofa in the living room and a small flatscreen TV sitting on the floor. The thin layer of dust sitting on the remote lets him know you don’t spend your free time keeping up with the latest TV drama.

The space is minimally furnished, but there is still a class to it. It’s a newer building, and the living area is expansive compared to most places in the city proper. The dining table sits between the kitchen and living room, holding the only items that seem to be remotely interesting.

Taehyung recognizes the backpack and the billfold. Derrek Lanier, a fitting name for Douchebag. He sets the wallet back down, going for the bag next. It’s filled with DVD cases; the matte covers all sporting white stickers with handwritten titles. However, titles are a loose interpretation of what these seem to be. The labels all just list physical features instead of proper names. Taehyung almost wishes he had visited the penthouse after you left. This isn’t painting a pretty picture for the guy.

Before his anger can get the best of him and make him abandon this in favor of doing just that, his eye catches on a pile of red fluffy curls sitting behind the backpack. He fingers a ringlet, holding back a chuckle when he realizes it’s a wig. It's a very fine, quality wig. He’s pleasantly surprised. What other astounding things do you have waiting for him? He’s even more eager to get to your bedroom now.

The hardwood floor is cold under his socked feet as they whisper down the hall. There are three doors, two closed and one ajar. Peeking into the open door, he gives the bathroom a once over. It’s clean, smelling lightly of floral body wash with an underlying burn of bleach.

Taking his chance on the first closed door, he slowly turns the knob and pushes it open. The room beyond is empty, completely devoid of furniture or belongings. The air feels stale, like the room is never used, perhaps even forgotten. He’s just about to turn and close the door when he notices that the closet door of the room is not closed all the way.

Perhaps it's his curiosity about why the door is open when no one is clearly using this room, or maybe it’s a sixth sense Taehyung has that draws him to it. But he gnaws his bottom lip for a moment before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He approaches the closet tentatively, readying himself for disappointment.

The click of the light switch sounds muted in comparison to the gasp he emits when light floods the small space of the closet. If he weren’t so distracted, he might have cursed himself for being so careless like that.

“Hells Fire,” he whispers, taking in the four walls completely covered in pictures, sticky notes, and sheets of paper.

It’s like something straight out of a crime show. He’s wiled away enough hours consuming that kind of brain rot to know. The only thing missing is the red yarn stretching between push pins connecting the scatter of photos.

It’s a murder board. That much is clear, though. Some of the images have red Xs drawn on them. Looking close enough, he recognizes some of the faces—well-to-do businessmen, just like the one from tonight. There are a few scanner copies of autopsy reports and some X-ray photos, though none look masculine. As far as he’s aware, none of these men have died. They’re all still very much alive and still very wealthy.

So, maybe not a murder board…but what?

Pulling out his phone, Taehyung takes a few photos of the display, hoping to be able to spend more time deciphering it when he’s not sneaking around your apartment with the risk of getting caught.

A small cardboard box sits in a corner. Taehyung peels back one of the flaps, peeking inside. There are two pictures, both in frames, a small wooden jewelry box, and a deflated Valentine balloon still attached to the plastic stick.

Grabbing one of the frames, Taehyung squints at the grainy, dated photo. It’s of a man and a woman, the sepia tones indicating its age. There is some water damage along the edges, as if the image were saved from a damp space before being put into the simple black frame.

The other frame is more stylish, reminiscent of the 90s, with rainbow flowers and smiley faces around the rim. He recognizes one of the two girls in the picture. At least, he believes it’s a younger version of you. The girl has the same eyes, if more full of life, and the same mouth, just less severe.

The girls are laughing, arms wrapped around each other as they face the camera. Taehyung can’t help but smile as he looks at it. Their joy infectious even through a snapshot like this. He brushes a finger over your smile before letting his digit swipe over the platinum blond hair of the other girl. Her twinkling blue eyes pour into the camera, holding a vibrancy that speaks of a careless and loving attitude.

A line forms between Taehyung's brows. The longer he looks at the photo, the more it sparks a recollection. Straightening from where he was crouching down beside the box, he holds up the picture and looks from it to the wall and back again–searching.

Dread, a cold trickle, seeps down his spine when he realizes why the girl looks familiar. Looking closer, he compares the black and white photocopy from the autopsy report to the smiling blonde in the frame. It’s easier to connect the dots now. Clearly, something happened to this girl—Danika Petrov, according to the report—and you’re out for revenge of some sort.

Shaking his head, Taehyung takes a quick shot of the photo in his hand before returning it to the box and turning out the light. He’s learned a lot, far more than he thought he would. There’s a lot to mull over. But first, he has one more place he wishes to explore before he leaves.

Taehyung is extra quiet as he eases the door open to your bedroom. It’s just as devoid of things as everywhere else. Your bed sits against one wall, centered between two heavily curtained windows. The mound in the middle of the bed calls to him. But, first things first, a look around so he doesn’t miss anything with the distraction.

There is no bathroom attached, just a walk-in closet that holds scant clothing and shoes. The single bedside table has a phone, lamp, and a white pill bottle sitting on it. Upon closer inspection, Taehyung sees that the bottle is sleeping pills. It makes him curious about what kind of nightmares you have in order to need assistance sleeping. With everything he’s seen so far, he doesn’t have to imagine much.

Easing open the small drawer on the nightstand, he smiles in triumph. Peeking out under the corner of some miscellaneous items, a blank notepad, pen, hair ties, tweezers, and a tube of lip balm, he sees the edge of a passport. Delicately extracting the tiny book, he flips it open and beholds the most coveted information he could have hoped to find.

There, displayed before him, is all your information. Your legal name–well, that is unless this is a fake, and at which, if it is, then Taehyung has to admit it’s a damn good fake–date of birth, birthplace, it’s all the basics he needs.

Movement on the bed beside him makes him freeze, not even daring to breathe as you roll over and unconsciously push the duvet down around your waist. You sleep in the nude. Of course you do. Taehyung swallows thickly, eyes glued to your sleeping form. It’s like you’re begging him to screw this up, to make a mistake.

Biting his tongue until he tastes the tang of blood, he tears his gaze away from your pebbling nipples and deftly replaces the passport, making his escape back into your living room. He’s breathing hard, heart beating erratically in his chest. The front of his trousers is tight, uncomfortable, as he battles against his baser desires.

You’d think being a holy being would mean he had better control over these things. Apparently, Angels–even fallen ones–are just as culpable of unholy thoughts as humans—guilt twists in his chest. It’s things like this that are what landed him here, to begin with.

Shoving aside the intruding thoughts and feelings, he smoothes a hand down the front of his dress shirt before shoving his feet back into his shoes. Now, he has an idea of who you are and what your game is. He just needs to figure out how to make himself a part of it—starting with finding out more about Danika; she seems to be central to your motivations, and now she’s part of his.

🤍🤍🤍

It’s disconcerting to wake up and feel like someone has invaded your space. Yet, nothing is amiss no matter where you look or how hard you try to find something. It’s similar to what you felt last night in Roy’s penthouse, that itch between your shoulder blades like someone had eyes on you, except now it feels like they’re beneath your skin; just a breath away.

Chalking it up to a bad trip with the sleeping pills, you carry on with your day. You have a lot to do and little time to accomplish it.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite vigilante. To what do I owe this pleasure, Ging?” Ryan’s sleep-rough voice crackles through the line of the burner phone you’re using.

“Morning, Ry. Put the pot on. I’ll be over in a few. Got something for you to sink your teeth into.”

Before he can respond, you disconnect the call, knowing he’ll be far too curious to turn you away when you show up at his door. Ryan Weller is as close to a friend as you’ve got these days. He’s been a good guy to you over the years, always treated you like a little sister, the same as he treated Danika. They were fostered together after her parents passed. When she died, you were all each other had left of her, a sort of pseudo lifeline to Danika—you both refuse to let go.

It only takes twenty minutes to walk to Ryan’s place. You pull on some jeans and a t-shirt, grab the backpack and wallet, and lock up on your way out. As your key slides out of the knob, you can’t help but stop and brush your thumb over the smooth brass handle. It looks the same as it always has…except, does it feel looser? You jiggle the knob and then shake your head, puffing out your cheeks. Your paranoia must be getting the best of you.

Slinging the backpack over your shoulder, you hit the call button for the elevator. The street is bustling, just a typical Saturday morning for this area. It wasn’t your first choice of places to live, but after Danika, you needed to get away from the apartment you shared but also wanted to situate yourself closer to the wolves you’d be hunting.

Ryan lives in the area by choice, having moved there almost a year before Danika was lost. He’s not the typical well-to-do-business guy, but he makes plenty of money as a private investigator. Or, at least, that’s what the placard on his door says he is. Considering what he does for you, you know it’s not all on the books or legal, which is just fine by you.

You don’t bother knocking, knowing Ryan will have unlocked the door for you already. His space is open-concept, all the rooms–sans the bath and bedrooms–bleeding together. The windows along the back wall are open, letting in a flood of daylight that dapples the space in warmth. He’s waiting for you in the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand. “What do we have this time?”

Dropping the backpack on the floor beside the dining table, you gesture at his laptop that’s already sitting open on the surface and set the wallet beside it. “Some money for you, for starters. And this,” you nudge the bag with your foot, “has videos of about a dozen girls I’d like you to try and track down using your magic machine.”

“Magic machine?” he asks, raising a bright strawberry-blond eyebrow.

Ryan is conventionally attractive, with natural russet highlights feathered through his wheat-colored hair and charming moss-green eyes, with a straight aristocratic nose sitting above perfect bow-shaped lips. If he were anyone other than who he is, he might have been someone you’d pursue. As it is, though, the thought of Ryan like that gives you the ick. He looks like a model; his grey sweats and a crimson jersey knit top belong in some Abercrombie ad for loungewear.

“Coffee first,” you whine, making grabby hands toward the cup he’s holding. “Then I’ll explain.”

Ryan laughs, handing off the cup and grabbing another for himself. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the only reason you ever come by to visit is for my coffee and to ask favors.” His tone is light, joking…but it hits a little too close to an uncomfortable truth. You can’t remember the last time you bothered to ask Ryan about something not Danika-related.

“I know,” you whisper, letting the guilt wash over you. “I’m sorry. It’s just, we’re so close…I’m so close to Bianchi, Ry. I’m so close I can’t stop now. I can’t risk losing momentum. I have to strike while it’s hot, and right now, it’s like the surface of the sun.”

That sobers him, his easy smile slipping from his face—you hate to see it go, the guilt festering even further in your heart, but you can’t let it show, not when it’s imperative you don’t crumble yet.

“Tell me what you need,” he implores, settling at the table where his laptop sits. “Where do we start?”

“Facial recognition is probably best,” you explain, thankful for the transition into more comfortable territory; the one without messy emotions.

Several hours and cups of coffee later, Ryan gets his first break. He sits back in his chair, fingers laced together on top of his head, his green eyes looking bleaker. “It’s not good, Ging, not good at all.” Even though he knows your real name, he still humors you with the persona you’ve adopted for your revenge plan.

“Tell me.”

Ryan sighs, dropping his hands into his lap. “I ran some cross-references just to be sure, but all these girls”—he nods toward the backpack now sitting on the table, disc cases spilling from the opening—“are missing. Every single one. Some of these are a decade old, cold cases at the bottom of some detective's desk at this point.”

The fact Roy Simmons is a monster isn’t a surprise to you. But the news still makes your blood boil. It makes you want to return to Roy’s penthouse and get a little creative with a knife instead of just holding blackmail over his head.

You swallow past the bile in your throat. “Send it. Let him rot.”

Ryan has a contact at the FBI, someone he trusts implicitly—someone who doesn’t know about you and doesn’t ask questions when Ryan dumps some evidence in his lap, either.

“Are you sure?” Ryan asks. “Simmons needs to get his, sure. But aren’t you worried it might alert Bianchi to the fact someone is getting close to him? Especially after what happened with Hurst.”

Sazi Hurst was your target before Roy. He found himself in FBI handcuffs after you told Ryan he could send all the information you scrounged up on him, and it almost cost you your first date with Roy; he was so paranoid after one of his biggest business venture partners ended up in custody, singing like a canary.

You hate the conflicting feelings waging war in your mind right now. The desire to see justice served and give these girls’ families peace weighs heavily against your own need to see this whole thing through to the end, with no mistakes made.

Finally, you relent, “You’re right. Fuck. Okay, give me until the end of next week.”

“You think you’ll get to him that soon?” Ryan gives you a wide-eyed stare, lips parting in surprise.

“As long as Roy gives me what I need. He has until midnight tonight,” you say, glancing at your phone for the time. Just a handful of hours to go. “Oh, did you get my little surprise last night?”

Ryan’s nose wrinkles as he makes a disgusted sound in his throat. “You mean the gross video of the naked pig on the bed? Yeah. I got it alright.”

You nod, satisfied for now. You stand from the table, drop your empty mug off in the sink, and head toward the door. “I’m going to go take care of some stuff.” By that, you mean wallow in a little bit of self-pity before the other shoe drops tonight. “If I don’t get what I need, you’ll take care of it?”

That sweet smile flashes on Ryan’s face once again. “Of course, I will. We’re in this together, Ging. And not even just because of Dani, but because I care about you, too, okay? Be careful out there. Call me if you need me.”

You let that linger between you, choosing not to respond to his kindness. It could be the nerves and how high-strung you are right now, but you know it’s deeper than that. It’s far too dangerous to get so close to someone again, even if it’s Ryan. Keeping him at arms-length when it comes to things of the heart is easier, safer…better that way.

Back on the sidewalk, you decide to stop by your apartment before going on the prowl. Pulling out your phone, you check one of the many fake social media profiles you’ve created to keep tabs on your targets. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a few precious hours to prepare before initiating phase number one of your final mission.

You move on autopilot, letting yourself be swept away by the normalcy of everything around you. The rest of your day is a blur. You’re not even sure what you spent your time doing. It doesn’t matter now; however, all you’re focused on is what’s before you: a closet full of things that will make the perfect disguise tonight.

Two hours later, you find yourself dressed to the nines, wig firmly in place, and a forced smile on your face as you approach the frosted glass door to Liquid Inferno, the city's hottest, most exclusive nightclub. Pulling out the fake golden access card that Ryan made for you, you flash it at the bouncer. The door swings open without so much as a questioning word.

Thumping bass vibrates through the soles of your heels as you zig-zag your way through the pulsing crowd—strobes of different colors flash, the whole place coated in thick neons thanks to the overhead blacklights. The coral mini dress you decided to wear takes on the brightness of a pink highlighter.

What you really want to do right now is head to the bar and order a drink, but you know that’s just the nerves setting in. Instead, you angle your path toward the darkened VIP area on the second floor.

A set of brutish-looking men stand at the bottom of the stairs. The one closest to you gives you a once-over before asking, “Looking to climb into the lap of a king, princess?”

You grit your teeth to keep from snarling at him in response. “Something like that,” you say, letting your words dripping saccharine sweetness as you bat your lashes.

“Sorry, sweetheart, no one is allowed up without a pass.” The other bouncer leers at you, blatantly eyeing your cleavage and the curve of your ass.

You fish into the top of your dress, intentionally shifting around your tits. “Oh, you mean one of these?” you ask, pinching the black VIP card, that you’re glad you had the forethought to nab from Roy’s place, between your thumb and forefinger.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the second guy whistles appreciatively. “Looks like she’s good to go, Mike.”

Mike turns his glare on his counterpart. “I know all VIPs, and she isn’t one.” His focus swings back to you, looking slightly more murderous this time. “Where’d you get it?”

One false move or misspoken word, and you can kiss this chance goodbye, you know that. So, treading carefully, you choose your words in hopes they’ll believe the semi-lie, “Roy Simmons. He gave me his card and told me to meet him here.” You turn the card so the thick, black lettering of Roy’s last name can be seen on the back.

“Roy didn’t mention giving his card to a floozy,” Mike grunts.

You hold up your hands, the card's shiny surface catching in the strobing lights. “I’m just trying to do as I was told.” You enunciate the word ‘told’, layering on extra meaning to it.

A knowing smile curves on the nameless douchebag's lips. “Sounds like Roy to me,” he chuckles, elbowing Mike lightly in the ribs. “Let her up so she doesn’t get in trouble, huh, Mike? Wouldn’t want a pretty little thing like her getting spanked for being a bad girl.”

Mike doesn’t laugh with his partner. He just stares at you with a challenging gleam in his eyes. Finally, he relents, stepping back and snatching the hook that’s holding the velvet rope across the bottom of the stairs.

“First sign of trouble from you, princess, and you’re out on your ass. Got me?”

You give him a subtle nod, demurely dropping your chin as you pass and hurry up the stairs. Cold sweat beads along the nape of your neck, and you feel like you might pass out. There is a small alcove at the top of the stairs, just before the floor opens up to the VIP lounge, and you duck inside to catch your breath.

The side seam of your dress buzzes. You nearly bust the stitching in your haste to pull out your phone. A message from Ryan flashes on the screen.

Let’s have bacon in the morning.

It’s code. Roy Simmons quickly earned the moniker ‘The Pig’, and Ryan has been joking about wanting to eat bacon ever since you put that leg of the plan into motion. Having bacon in the morning means Roy has provided you with what you wanted. Which is perfect; one more loop in the rope you hope to have Bianchi with.

Being here tonight might be a mistake, now that you’re taking a moment to think it through. What you should really be doing is going home and digging through everything Simmons gave up. Yet—you peek out from the alcove, scanning the VIP area—you’re far too close to give up this chance.

You’re generally not so reckless. Getting this close is making you sloppy, you decide, and you can’t have that. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back and remind yourself why you’re doing this and that you can’t make a mistake—not now, before stepping out of the alcove and into the den of wolves.

Testing the waters tonight can’t hurt…much.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

Following you has been all too easy for Taehyung. His body doesn’t need sleep, so instead of retreating back to his own apartment, he stationed himself outside of yours. It was a surprise to see you leaving so early this morning but an even bigger surprise to see you looking so decidedly normal. You weren’t wearing any fancy clothes, the wig, or painted up with rouge like you had been the night before—yet, you’re still the image of a goddess to him.

Taehyung has decided he likes you more when you’re just being you, not when you’re playing what is obviously a character part. It’s a clever rouse. He’ll grant you that. You’re good; he would have been none the wiser had he not let himself into your space last night.

You were moving fast, and Taehyung nearly lost you a few times as you worked your way toward another apartment building. It was like striking gold when Taehyung could repeat his trick from the night before, scaling the backside of the adjacent building. Only this time, the windows were open, and he could hear everything you and Ryan were discussing.

It’s been a long time since Taehyung tasted the bitter tang of jealousy. It’s a very unbecoming emotion for someone of his stature. Yet, watching how that blond Adonis fawned over you and how comfortable you seemed around him made Taehyung want to chew through the metal railing of the fire escape he was on. He hated seeing you together.

Now, though, you’re alone. Or as alone as someone can be in a packed VIP area of a nightclub. Taehyung can taste the nervousness coming off of you in waves. He can feel the erratic thump of your heart from where he’s standing in the shadows a few feet away.

Getting past Dumb and Dumber at the bottom of the stairs was comical; all it took was a whispered name, and they let him up without even asking for a card. He might not have any friends, but Taehyung has plenty of connections in this city. It would be wild if he didn’t, considering he’s been prowling these same streets for a hundred years now. Not many people know his face, but plenty know his name.

You look like a newborn fawn tiptoeing through a pack of wild, rabid wolves, eyes wide and lush lips parted as you edge yourself closer to the back of the space. He knows where you’re going; he’s just not sure why. The conversation he overheard between you and Ryan was enough to fill in some of the puzzle pieces concerning your venture. He also spent the majority of the night surfing the web on his phone and scrounging up everything he could on you, Danika, and whatever connection you might have to the man you’re now fast approaching.

Lorren Bianchi—world renowned flesh and drug trader kingpin—is sitting in a dimly lit booth, surrounded by a few scantily clad women holding champagne glasses and half a dozen muscle-thick bodyguards who aren’t bothering to cover up the pistols hooked to their belts.

Taehyung knows who Bianchi is and has spoken with him a handful of times as well. He’s never liked the oily fucker, far too pretentious and corrupt for Taehyung. It clicks then, and Taehyung curses himself for being a fool and not seeing it sooner. The box with the sentimental items you have tossed into the closet of the spare room, the smiling, beautiful blond girl with you in the photo—Danika. It all makes sense now, and if Taehyung doesn’t do something, you’re going to find yourself in someone else's cherished box in a closet.

🤍🤍🤍

You’re so focused on picking your way through the crowd, eyes honed in on the one man you’ve been gnashing at the bit to draw blood from, that you miss the man closing in through your periphery until you walk solidly into his chest. You blink a few times, dragging your focus up a narrow chest covered in a white button-up until you meet familiar golden-brown eyes.

“Ginger, what a surprise.”

A surprise is one way to describe it. However, surprises are far too close to being coincidences to you, and you stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago. Consider it a product of the deep distrust you’ve developed over the years. Running into the same man twice in less than twenty-four hours should be immediate alarm bells for you…yet, surprisingly, they remain silent.

“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” you mumble, intending to skirt around the guy and be on your way without further interaction. But he follows your step, blocking your way yet again. It’s hard to tell if it’s intentional or if he was stepping aside at the same time as you were.

He laughs, a warm, rumbling note that makes you look up just to make sure it’s really coming from him. “I’m sorry.” He moves to the side, gesturing with his arm toward the darkened back corner. The look in his eye is unreadable, making it hard to judge his intentions, but you’re not going to balk at the opportunity to get away, paranoia a thick collar slipping around your throat.

If you weren’t so on edge, you might give up your endeavor for the night and take the opportunity to slip a hook into this odd man. It would be easy enough, another chance to practice before the big take down. You’d be honest in saying you could use a bit more practice, if the way your hands shake is any indication.

But, no matter how hard you contemplate that idea, it won’t stick. There’s something about the man that screams innocent, which is also probably why your alarm bells refuse to ring. A man like that doesn’t deserve your torment, so you continue, not sparing him another glance.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping past him.

A hand on your arm brings you up short, though. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Your gaze cuts to the man—Taehyung—before flicking down to the slender fingers wrapped around your upper arm. His palm is warm against your skin, contrasting with the chill from the AC blasting overhead.

“What?”

Taehyung flicks his eyes toward where Lorren is sitting. “He’s a dangerous man.”

“All men are dangerous,” you snap.

Taehyung searches your eyes, for what you’re not sure, but whatever he sees there must disappoint him because his lips form a thin line, and he gives a subtle shake of his head. “I hate that that’s your reality.” He glances back toward the table where Bianchi is sitting. “Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you along to an empty seat a few feet away.

“What are you—Oh!” Your protest cuts off as Taehyung slumps into the vacant seat and drags you onto his lap. “What the hell!?”

“Calm down, or you’re going to draw attention to us.” Taehyung pulls you back against his chest, angling his head around yours so his words ghost over your ear, “Humor me a little, won’t you? Tell me what you see.”

“What I see?”

Slender fingers graze underneath your chin before hooking against it and tilting your head. For anyone else, it must look like Taehyung is whispering sweet nothings in your ear, plying you with his big hands. Every part of him that touches you is warm and inviting. But, you can’t let yourself get caught up in that.

Your eyes catch on the far table once more. Bianchi is laughing at something, his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open, though the sound doesn’t carry to you. You’re here for a reason, and you’re not going to let some bozo you ran into last night stop you.

Shifting around on his lap, you try to brace your heels on the floor to gain leverage, but Taehyung bands an arm around your hips and clears his throat. “Stop that, and before you ask, yes, I know him, and no, I don’t care for him. Now, look closely. Tell me what you perceive about the people around him. Tell me why if you would have approached that table tonight, it would have been short-lived and you’d be sorely disappointed that you wasted your chance.”

You lick your lips, willing your racing heart to calm down so you can focus. You know you should be scrambling off his lap, yelling obscenities, and cursing him for being a creep. Only, he’s, in fact, not being one. The only thing that’s disturbing is the fact that he somehow knows you’re here for Bianchi. A man who is nothing more than a stranger who gave up two hundred dollars last night is now acting like he knows all your dirty little secrets.

“How do you know that’s what I was going to do? Maybe I’m just here trying to have a good time, and you’ve gone and ruined it.”

“You’re easier to read than you think. Now, tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you refocus on the table. Lorren is sitting in the middle, two girls on one side and one on the other. All blond, very young, petite with large eyes and lips. They could be triplets for all you can discern between the three of them. Everything you know about Bianchi flashes through your mind as you try to connect the dots. Of course, you should have seen it before. “Blond. He likes blondes. Fuck,” you mutter. There is a soft sound of approval from Taehyung, a low hum that vibrates through his chest. “Now, should I let you go make a fool of yourself, or would you like to hear what I have to offer?”

“Why are you even here? Have you been following me?”

Taehyung grunts as you begin to wiggle in earnest in his lap. “It’s not like that,” he says.

Now, the alarm bells do start to ring because that’s as good as saying ‘yes’. “Let me go.”

“I will, on one condition.” You twist in his lap, ready to lash out at him, but he catches your upraised palm and urges, “Let me help you with whatever you’re trying to do.”

“No, fuck you, jackass,” you hiss, trying to jerk your hand from his grip. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow, and a smirk crooks up the corner of his mouth. It’s the first time his angelic demeanor has taken on a dark note, and you’re not sure if you like it or not. “Do you really think screaming will make any of these snakes come running to your aid?”

You swallow hard against the truth of that. A woman screaming is probably as common as a millionaire snorting coke in this place. Which judging by the tray covered in lines of white powder you can see on a table to your left, you’d wager the odds aren’t in your favor.

“Please,” you try for your best impression of desperation. “Please, let me go. You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you know,” Taehyung whispers in response before standing, bringing you up with him, and dragging you toward the top of the stairs. You try to twist and protest, but his hand is like a vice around your wrist, and your pleas go unanswered.

It takes little time for Taehyung to haul you through the crowd. It’s like the surge of bodies part around him, making the escape smooth and seamless. The air outside is light and crisp compared to how suffocating it was inside; you hadn’t even noticed until now that you can take your first real, deep breath since you went in.

“Who the fuck even are you?” you snarl, finally jerking yourself free from Taehyung’s grip, though that might have more to do with him letting you pull yourself free than anything.

The look on his face is unreadable for a moment before a placating smile spreads across his lips. “I’m just someone with your best interest in mind and who is trying to help.”

“I already said I don’t need your help.” You make to step around him and head back inside. Even if your chances of introducing yourself to Bianchi tonight won’t go as planned, you can still do some more recon, and gather more information—but those slender fingers find themselves cuffing your wrist all over again. He drops his grip on you when it seems he’s certain you’re not going to try and run again.

“Look, just hear me out, and if you don’t like what I have to say, then I’ll provide you with the proper look and introduce you to Lorren Bianchi myself.” That earns him a narrow look filled with suspicion.

You look around, contemplating whether or not this man is full of shit or not. If you agree to hear him out, you might miss out on your opportunity to get closer to Bianchi tonight. But if he’s telling the truth, you might not need to do all the legwork anyway.

Taehyung looks hopeful as he waits for your response, bouncing ever so lightly on his toes, hands clasped in front of him. There is still that unmistakable sense of innocence about him, even though he just bodily dragged you from inside the club and somehow has a personal connection to Bianchi.

Ryan would urge you not to move so quickly tonight. He might also balk at the idea of you entertaining a stranger who seems to sneakily know more than he should…but which would earn you the most ire? Ryan would definitely find out about your attempt with Bianchi tonight, but he might not necessarily have to find out about Taehyung. Maybe you can play both fields.

You tug your phone from the inner seam on your dress and shoot off a text to Ryan, asking him to send you everything he can on Taehyung Kim and how he might be connected to Bianchi and to be quick about it. You add please to the end of your text, hoping you seem less demanding in your request.

“You have thirty minutes. If I’m not impressed, you introduce me, or I’ll make you wish you’d kept your two hundred dollars.” You give him a pointed look, the ruse from last night taking on a whole new meaning now. Clearly he was trying to make a connection to you and is now taking it a step further.

Taehyung holds up his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. Deal. Follow me.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to ask any more questions. You have to skip a few steps, your heels clicking against the sidewalk, to catch up with him as his long strides carry him away from the club.

You’re taken aback, thinking he’d surely lead you to some apartment or a hotel, somewhere there is a mild bit of privacy. Though an empty park wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, it does afford you the privacy.

“Start talking,” you insist, crossing your arms over your chest. You set a thirty-minute timer on your phone already and have it clutched in your hand so you can feel it vibrating either from time running out or with any messages from Ryan.

Taehyung’s back is to you, his attention directed somewhere overhead. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“What?” you ask, confused, feeling like you’re being whiplashed by the sudden change in conversation.

He glances at you over his shoulder, and you’re stuck by just how gorgeous he is, bathed in the soft glow from the lamps lining the walkway through the park. “The sky, it’s beautiful.”

“Um, yeah, sure.” You’re honestly not certain of the last time you took the time to actually look up at the sky and admire it. Living in the city, the light pollution and dirty air doesn’t really have an appeal anyway.

“Look,” he says, nodding back in the direction he was looking in before.

You sigh, irritated, but if he wants to waste part of his thirty minutes looking up at the smog-filled sky, who are you to—your thoughts trail off as you finally gaze up. The moon hangs full and low in the sky. You can see a smattering of stars as if they’re demanding to be seen despite the blazing city lights. It takes your breath away for a moment, grounding you in a different reality, one not filled with plots of revenge and loneliness.

Dragging your attention away from the sight and to the man so nonchalantly standing there, wasting his time, you say. “Your time is running out.”

“I’m not from here.” His words come as a whisper, barely carrying to you from over his shoulder. “The view is so different here, no matter how many times I look up, it’s never the same.”

“So, you’re from some other city. What’s that got to do with any of this? Is that how you know Bianchi?”

Taehyung turns, giving you his full attention. You feel bared to him, somehow. As if his eyes are taking stock of your every sin and folly. “I’m not from some other city. I’m not from here,” he emphasizes the word, drawing it out intentionally slow.

“I don’t have time for riddles,” you grunt, growing more irritated by the second. You should have known this was a waste of time. Your phone buzzes in your hand, and a wash of relief swells inside you. Ryan is just in time to confirm this is a complete waste.

Why are you asking about him?

Please don’t tell me you’re wanting to target him. Don’t be an idiot, Ging.

Seriously? You’re not going to answer me? Fine.

There are a few texts that are several minutes old. You must have been so distracted you missed your phone vibrating with them. A flood of new texts come in as you’re reading.

He’s one of the good ones. There’s a link to a website attached. You click on it and scan the opening page. ‘Kim Taehyung, Billionaire With No Billions’ is the headline. The article is filled with statistics and data showing that every cent Taehyung earns with any of his business ventures goes toward charity or medical research.

He’s a literal saint. Like, there isn’t a single mark against this guy. Targeting him would be doing the devil’s work. His connection to Bianchi seems to be one of rivalry. He’s the one who stopped Bianchi from opening up that one casino, you know, the one that was going to serve as an underground skin trade, but the evidence magically disappeared before his court hearing?

So that’s why Taehyung is familiar to you. You didn’t pay much attention to the casino thing, just kept tabs on it in passing in hopes it could lead you to gathering another connection to Bianchi.

Thanks. You hit send, thumb out of the timer you set, and tuck your phone away back into your dress.

“Ready to hear what I have to say now?”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. Mild embarrassment is a bitter taste in the back of your throat as you feel thoroughly chastised even though he’s not speaking to you in a demeaning way.

“I’m listening.”

“Perhaps where I’m from is not important, not that you’d believe me anyway. So, perhaps the best place to start is acknowledging that I know what you’re going through. I’ve experienced what you’re experiencing, the pain and grief of losing someone you love.”

It’s like a white-hot dagger to the heart, a mix of indignation and sympathy. “You might think you do, but I don’t know.”

“I was punished for loving someone, they were taken from me, and I was… ostracized. I’ll never be the same. I still”—he rolls his shoulders and winces—”ache.”

His words are cryptic, but you’re fairly certain they’re only the surface of his experience, as there is evident pain laced within his whispered confession.

Slowly, his slender fingers nimbly work at the ivory buttons along the front of his shirt. One by one, they reveal the subtlest hint of flesh. The lighting that wreathed him in a halo glow just a moment ago now casts his features in stark relief as he moves closer to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making myself vulnerable to you, in hopes of earning some of your trust.” With painfully slow movements, Taehyung turns and shrugs down the top of his dress shirt. It’s confusing, at first, trying to decipher what you’re seeing in the dim lighting. Ripples and bumps form two narrow swaths to either side of his spine, just within his shoulder blades; scars, jagged ones, made of tight, shiny ridges. The placement, the mirrored precision…it almost, almost looks like he had wings ripped from his back. “Not ripped,” he murmurs and you realize you spoke your thought aloud. “They were shorn from my body by my Brother Michael.”

“Your brother did this to you?!” you ask incredulously.

“Brothers,” he emphasizes. “But, only one wielded the blade.”

You balk at him, unable to comprehend how someone could do this to another human being. Before you can think better of it, you brush a light finger over one of the ridges. Taehyung shudders so intensely under your touch, that you’re afraid you might have hurt him. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, snatching your hand back.

He clears his throat. “Nothing to apologize for. It’s just that, well, I haven’t been touched by another being in a very, very long time. I had almost forgotten what it felt like, a tender touch like that.”

“You shouldn’t have suffered at the hands of your brothers.”

“Water under the bridge at this point,” Taehyung sighs, pulling his shirt back up and redoing the buttons as he turns to face you once more. “I know what you’re trying to do with Bianchi, and even if you manage to get close enough to him, you’re not going to be able to go through with it. You can’t kill him.”

“I can and I will,” you state fiercely. “I have to.”

Taehyung gives you a sad smile. “There’s too much good in your heart. You’ll hesitate, and then he’ll turn the tables. He’ll give you the same fate as your friend.”

“You don’t know anything about her!” you shout, wincing at your own outburst as your words echo through the park and startle some birds out of a nearby tree.

“I know that you love her. I know that you’re on a path of revenge for her. A path that is going to lead you to an eternity of damnation even if you do succeed. Please, let me help you. I promise Bianchi will suffer for what he has done, but we have to do it the right way.”

“And what exactly would you consider the right way?” Anger eats at your eyes, making them burn with tears you refuse to shed.

Looking deep into your eyes, Taehyung explains, “If you kill him, that’s the end of it. But, if you tear down his empire, make him lose everything, brick by brick…he’ll endure a lifetime of suffering, which, to a man like him, is far crueler of a punishment than bringing his miserable life to an end. He’ll probably do it himself by the time we’re done with him.”

“Why is it, exactly, that you want to help me again?”

“I’ve dealt with Bianchi on a few occasions. Unfortunately, he rubs elbows with a lot of the same people that I do. I suppose money doesn’t care if someone is a good person or not.” Taehyung fits his hands into his pockets, leaning back on one heel in a relaxed manner as his eyes flick over your features. “I’ve never had the right justification for bringing him down. He’s always managed to slip between my fingers. Now, though, you’re presenting me with the perfect opportunity, the perfect justified means to take him down once and for all...and well, if it means I can save you, then I’ll take that, too.”

The fact this man seems to care about you, care about Danika, doesn’t seem all that unusual. His eyes are open and full of warmth, so welcoming and completely unalarming in their charm and sincerity. You can’t help but accept. “What do you propose we do? Where do we start?”

That seems to put a little pep back into Taehyung’s demeanor. “Simple, of course. We start where it will hurt him most, his bank account.”

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hollyhomburg · 2 years

Text

The Vampire King

(Polyamory au) (Supernatural au) (Drabble!)

Summary: Vampire hobi never imagined himself a king, but after circumstances allow himself to take a human queen for a wife wife, he finds there’s a lot of love left in his cold dead heart.

Tags: Bullet fic, supernatural au, halloween surprise gift, Smut, Double penetration, Knotting, Vampire! hobi, Human! m/c, Knight! seokjin, Dragon! namjoon, Werewolf! jungkook, Succubus! jimin, Mage! Taehyung, Vampire! yoongi, Tentacles, oviposition, sex-magic, blood-lust, fear kink, edgeing, overstimulation, Ace! hobi, Dom! hobi

W/c: 2.8k (it’s a drabble okay 🥰)

A/N: happy halloween! here is a little surprise! i wrote this in like an hour lol so it’s heavily unedited but i hope you enjoy it! please remember to leave me a like and a comment if theres something in here you enjoyed!

- Vampire hobi has never fancied himself much of a ruler, but still- he ends up as the king of some nation after his long running best friend dies- having been king) and hobi- having been his 'long lost bastard son' or something, unwilingly inherits the throne.

- Hobi is old- older than many many magical beasts and things that go bump in the night. he’s old enough to think- hey i've never been a king before, might be fun, i could like it. (The truth is he’s dreadfully bored, dreadfully tired of the vampire council and his own kind).

- for a while he even likes to plan the balls! humans did always burn bright and burn quick, but they’ve always created the most fantastic creations too. their music puts even the sound of fairy song to shame.

- only...why are his advisors trying to get him to marry a human? isn't that a little antiquated? To fuck only one person and only one gender at that? He's convinced, because really, how long will he even be king anyway? He can only probably last another 20 or so years before they'll start to get suspicious of his inhumanly good looks and he’ll need to fake his own death to evade suspicions (humans might be interesting but they’re not the smartest bunch).

- only then, he meets the m/c, the princess of a rival nation who has the sweetest blood he's ever smelled. he’s winded in the throne room when he sees her, smells her, nostrils flaring, sure that his eyes must be flashing red. only- why is her heart beating faster when she sees him? how can such a beautiful creature love an old cold bag of bones like him?

- Her blood sings to him at all hours of the day, through every touch of their courtship, when he gifts her blood red roses, when he whispers sweet nothings that don’t mean nothing to her, calling to him almost as much as the delicate human it's attached too. he can’t say he’s ever met someone so, new before. so fresh and happy, it makes him smile in a way he’s forgotten he could.

- He can at least restrain himself until their wedding night. Only then does he allow himself to have a taste of her blood, explaining to her who- and more importantly what he is. what she’s bound herself too.

- The m/c is surprisingly cool with the whole being married to a vampire thing. she quickly develops a taste for not only being in love with hobi but also helping him feed more discreetly. Why would he ever need another feeding partner when he has her? She might even get mad at one point when he tries to hunt someone else because it’s her husbands needs she’s tending too after all.

- She loves to cuddle up in Hobi's lap while he’s sat on the thrown, kissing and pecking up her neck until they're alone and hobi can sink his teeth into her delicate throat. Being bitten by a vampire is kinda nice, the whole venom rush and all kinda feels like a drug, a feeling like liquid gold rushing through her veins.

- Sometimes she lets hobi sleepily teeth there when she sleeps and he dozes, vampires only need to truly sleep once a month, but he’s more than happy to just lie down beside her and close his eyes, often with his fangs softly buried in her neck. A vampire bite doesn’t hurt unless the vampire wishes it, and hobi would never hurt her.

- There’s only one problem with their whole relationship. most vampires sexual desires wane over time, not all- but most. Hobi has fucked and been fucked in just about every single position way and hour of the day that a person can even be fucked. it’s not that he doesn’t love the m/c it’s just that...he can’t feel any lust other than bloodlust anymore.

- And it doesn’t help that Hobi’s venom also makes the m/c extremely extremely horny too.

- That doesn't mean he's not well invested in seeing the queen fucked. in-fact, he loves to watch her loose her careful veil of coquettish composure, loves to watch her overstimulated and squirting, all over the floor of their lavish bedchambers. would never get tired of licking the slick from her lovers fingers. Just because he prefers to watch and not participate doesn't make his love for her any less real, doesn’t make the aftercare he gives her after her scenes any less lingering and caring.

- King hobi has quite the vetting process for the queens concubines only the best lovers and cocks make it into the queens inner circle. maybe rumors start, that the king has promised a lavish life to anyone who would be the bedmate of the queen.

- There’s prince Namjoon, second in line to the dragon throne (not that anyone would ever know, he keeps his dragon form quietly leashed most of the time). both of his cocks fuck the queen well enough to have her begging for hobi to make namjoon a permanent fixture in their lives, even if his double knots are a little bit harder to hide and fit in her little cunt, hobi orders namjoon to try, making her take it until she’s crying.

- The queen just about screams the first time her little pussy and ass are filled at the same time. cumming to the sound of hobi’s merciless laugh because “you’re cute when you cum hard my sweet” it’s all a game to him, a game that she and namjoon are more than willing to play every evening, during the day too sometimes. although they press their luck- having her attend meetings and afternoon tea time with lords and ladies with her cunt all stretched and fucked- dripping namjoon’s copius amounts of cum because dragons are known for ridiculous stamina.

- The dragon princess endless firey stamina is almost enough to sate her permanently. Almost- but even namjoon cant contend with bloodlust in a human body, even he whimpers out “wanna knot, please my king” after the 3 hour he’s spent mounting her.

- please imagine hobi quietly sipping wine from a velvet chair, sighing and saying “if you must” flippantly as her holes are stretched to capacity. It’s Nothing that a few hours of coddling can’t change, soothing the dragons tears. “my little fire” he’d croon, whipping back namjoon’s bangs, “it’s not your fault our little queens a bit of a slut” both of them contending with a pouty “hey!” from the m/c pressed between them.

- the m/c loves to sleep like that fire at her back, and the cold body of her undead husband at her front. only...her bed is terribly large, surely theres room for one more?

- then there’s knight Seokjin, who might be the only human in hobi’s bunch but isn’t anyone to dismiss, his prowess in the sack and on the battlefield is something legendary and well known among the kingdom. he’s quickly appointed as the queens royal guard.

- His levels of oral prowess certainly never leave anything to be desired either. At dinnertime, Hobi often asks him nicely to get on his knees for the queen often because his baby deserves to be spoiled (and it’s not like Seokjin never cums while eating her out, apparently her pussy is just as delectable as her blood).

- they play this game where during dinnertime jin kneels on a pretty little velvet cushion, and as long as the m/c keeps her face schooled into a mask of propriety he’s allowed to continue, but jin makes it offally difficult when he puts his plush lips around her clit and sucks. and all of a sudden hobi’s calling jin’s name and he’s pulling himself out from under her skirts, looking dazed, his lips slick soaked.

- sex is always a game to hoseok, he always loves to give her little tasks to tease her, don’t cum even after both namjoon and jin have cum in you, keep their cum warm and snug inside of you my queen, we can’t have the whole castle knowing who you like filling you up, would they all ask me for a chance to fuck you? if they knew how sweet you sounded when you’re being ruined?

- and it’s even better if jin gets on his knees for her while hobi’s having his meal as well, the way she whimpers and falls apart, her pleasure so so sweet in her veins has hobi often reaching down to pull seokjin up for messy messy kisses. (kisses aren’t the same as sex, hobi will always love getting kisses even if sex has lost it’s interest).

- sometimes, when the m/c is extra extra tired and if hobi’s taken a bit too much blood from her the night before. hobi will pull jin into their bed (the knight might prefer to take the evenings in the dragon princes quarters frequently, it’s nothing against hobi or her it’s just that sleeping next to a chilled block of vampire isn’t the most comfortable)

- hobi loves jin’s blood too, almost as much as the m/c’s, the bloodlust affects him too- enough that it causes the knight to rut against hobi’s legs, which is fine 🥰 hobi doesn’t mind it even if he never feels wanting stiring in his own belly.

- then they’res succubus jimin, who appears in the queens quarters by complete accident, as only ‘a true act of lust could summon a succubus’ (this true act of lust might just happen to be an orgy planned by the king for the queens birthday).

- Jimin is not only the m/cs cutest companion (succubi where designed by the devil himself to be cute, but jimin still blushes when hobi calls him that). jimin’s a lovely little bedwarmer for her on the nights that hobi simply can’t be tempted for sleep,

- But he also makes her laugh and so so happy, hobi loves to watch them from the shadows as they lounge in sunlight. jimin might also have the prettiest prettiest cock in the land, but thats a secret that you keep. the prettiest thickest little cock that the m/c loves to bounce on- that maybe even the king likes to drink from (succubi find all acts of lust pleasurable, even acts of bloodlust), he murmurs in her ears, dark magic that makes her pleasure thicker, makes her soul belong to jimin in ways it can’t belong to the others.

- and then theres mage taehyung, who charms himself not only to have a cock, but maybe a few tentacles as well, One- two- three- four as many as she wants to fill her up. he might also make her some aphrodisiac potions, might make the king some too when he asks to just have one night, one night where he understands the wanting that the other have again. it’s not enough to set him truly back into human wanting, and yet, it’s more than enough to have their bonds all reaffirmed.

- Mage taehyung has a lovely habit with the spells, has a mind thats almost as creative as hobi’s when it comes to figuring out new sexual deviances to torture the m/c, the edging potion in taehyung favorite, the one that makes it impossible for the drinker to cum no matter how many times their clit is spanked or how many cocks they take in their cunt or hole (mages do often take succubi for familiars, and once jimin and his bond is made, there’s no breaking it. succubi blood is a very very potent potion additive too!)

- maybe one time, during a demon summoning gone wrong, tae doesn’t just summon the tentacles, but gets possessed by the leviathan too. he ends up breeding the m/c in their form, fucking her full of demon eggs that thankfully another spell helps vanish. the coven finds her like that, fucked dumb on the floor a tenticals holding her up and fucking her down on three, tae’s eyes rolled back speaking some demon tongue.

- “the demon king wants her hyung” jimin sniffles, once he’s managed to kick the demon out of tae’s body. “don’t want him to have her, she’s /ours/” “i won’t let anything happen to her, or any of you” hobi promises, but it does nothing to comfort the little succubus “then why haven’t you turned her yet? anything could happen to her or jinnie and they’d just be gone”

- Hobi’s coven does enjoy teaseing her by how eager she’d been to take the monsters eggs, they have their fun and forget the fear “maybe i should open our doors for every little beasty and beauty that comes our way my sweet” hobi threatens, hand warming over the m/c’s swollen stomach. Feeling her shiver in fear and delight.

- the vampire werewolf wars are long over, there isn’t enough bad blood between their races for him not to allow the sweetest pup from the stables, alpha jungkook- to show his prowess in the bedroom. There isn’t a sight king hobi likes more than watching the m/c dig the heal into jungkook’s knot while the alpha whimpers from her feet, his hands carefully folded behind his back the picture of absolute obedience. All for the chance to knot and breed her.

- maybe hobi’s eyes warm at that- because he’s long since given up having children with the m/c after none- not even Seokjin’s seed managed to take. they are very very in love and desire to have a family even if their relationship isn’t the most conventions.

- Hobi might have a particular fondness for when jungkook’s ruts sync up with the full moon and he has to fuck her in his monstrous form too 🥰 after that she might be able to take both of Joonies knots at the same time.

- Now, king hobi has never ever been convinced by one magical species to enter the queens coven of pretty little concubines. Hobi would never ever dream of allowing another vampire to fuck the m/c- in the fear that maybe they’d be convinced to suck her blood, and her blood belongs only to the king.

- But then one of his old friends comes to visit, vampire Yoongi, who is the first fledgeling that Hoseok ever sired. Although time and more than one broken heart separated them they great each other as more than family and more than lovers.

- hobi gets to watch her walk with the vampire, feeling his own long cold heart warming as he gets to see her laugh and throw herself into the others arms, fangs flashing in the light. And hobi really can’t contain his heart can he? he’s too fond of the both of them, cant resist giving his fledgling and his sweet sweet little human wife what they both want.

- maybe hobi discovers that he likes feeling yoongi gulping, likes to hear the stutter of her heart as he feeds on the other side of her throat.

- hobi ends up taking a new fledgeling half a decade later, only because he couldn’t bear to be parted from either of them in death. Maybe yoongi helps him too- having never sired another vampire to be his own fledgeling, maybe they both bite on either side of her neck to turn her at the same time.

- hobi laments the loss of her sweet sweet human blood (because vampire blood just doesn’t taste the same although they’ll still feed from each other often, especially as her sire, they’ll both need to stay close through nearly 10 years of blood cravings.

- hobi can’t wait to nurse his needy little fledgling, and yoongi’s going to do so well- hobi already knows they’ll both have the cutest cutest nest- and if the other vampire wants to lean into his nesting instincts for the first time in nearly a thousand years then hobi won’t complain.

- (if you’re wondering what happens to jin, he and jungkook happen to mate, although it’s a little non-traditional for the omega to be older than their alpha- jungkook very very good at guiding jin through his werewolf puberty)

- He fakes his own passing as the king, and the throne passes to one of his long lost relatives. and hobi and his little coven of demons and witches and vampires flees to a castle in the countryside. where they’re all left to fuck and fight and feed from each other for eternity.

- Hobi’s coven might not be the most conventional of covens, but it’s one he made himself with the kind of love that last centuries <3

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exodusmc · 11 months

Text

Darling

Genre: Vampire au, smut, 1800s au, moulin rouge inspired

Words: 5313

Paring: Taehyung x Y/n ( female prounouns) X Jungkook

Warning!: hinting at murder, hinting to prostitution, alcohol, oral ( f and m receving), pet names, light dirty talk, penetrating sex without condom, fingering, thigh riding, technically sex in public, biting and blood drinking, more of a dom Tae and sub jk.

a/n: So this idea came from no where and I have based some details on the history of moulin rouge. I was writing smut for Hoongjong from ateez but it didnt really go anywhere so you get this instead. in other news, I'm not really sure what is happening with Baekhyun and exo but i will support them no matter what! ps will post insider soon...

Gif is not mine

The light around then was dim and a reddish tone. Velvet surrounded most walls and furniture, gold and tassels trying to up the class of the place. Taehyung watched with heavy eyes as Jungkook flirted with some daughter of a rich man. Sweet smoke filled the room and Taehyung popped the first couple of his buttons in his white shirt. He sure was scandalous with only a black vest and rolled up sleeves but it was the whole idea of the club. He could smell a faint touch of sex in the air and any more flirting by Jungkook would sure make it more prominent. Taehyung's younger friend had lost his tie a long time ago as well and his collarbones sparkled with glitter.

He stood from his seat and strolled over to the two of them, smirking down to the blushing girl. She was breathless, glossy eyes and under their fingertips. On her chest laid an expensive necklace and he knew they had hit the jackpot.

“Why don't you come with us, pretty dove…” he grabbed her shoulders, whispering deep in her ear.

The hunger in Jungkook’s eyes made him look almost insane but that was what Taehyung liked about him, the switch between pleasure and pain. Besides, he too felt the grip slip with the scent of her sweet sweet blood.

Paris sure was different from London, more cigarettes and pastries, definitely more sun. Jungkook squinted at the gleaming orb, coffee in hand and a frown etched between his dark eyebrows.

“Sometimes I miss the rain….” he grumbled and Taehyung smiled lightly as he flipped the paper, eyes following the headline. The death of the rich Adaline, the vampires have come to Paris! Jungkook groaned as he too read the title. “ I knew we should have left her somewhere else…”

“You don't need to worry…they don't have a clue of who we are…” Taehyung glanced around at all the people around them.” Where we leave the bodies means nothing as long as we hunt carefully..”

“Sure..” Jungkook huffed out angrily.” But pawning their stuff sure as hell becomes harder when everyone is on the lookout.”

Jungkook dropped the necklace Adaline had worn on the table, leaning back on the chair, chest muscles pushing against his brown vest and white button shirt.

“Don't be a brat…We don't need money now so we don't need to pawn it in this second…” Taehyung hissed, placing the paper on the table and putting the jewelry in his pocket.” But maybe don't show off it in the meantime…”

“Whatever…” Jungkook started to drink his coffee again, sip after sip which did nothing but make them look more normal. “Where are we going tonight? I still feel hungry.”

Taehyung tsked at the younger boy and his constant hunger. He couldn't remember it being so bad when two years had passed since he turned.

“I don't know…go look yourself, you’re old enough.” a smile spread over Taehyung’s face at the scowl on Jungkook.

Taehyung wasn't an old vampire himself, only having been immortal for ten years, but he still was Jungkook’s maker and it made him feel better knowing the boy still looked for his guidance.

“I think you can hunt alone now, nothing has gone wrong in a while..” one reason they had moved from London was the growing worry of vampires from the humans and the fact that Jungkooks recklessness caught up to them. He had gone on a spree when he was a mere day and Taehyung was still on that high that had made him turn Jungkook in the first place so he couldn't stop his creation before it was too late. Jungkook had cried so much, still remembering how it was to be human, but it didn't seem to bother him anymore.

“Well, I don't want to leave right when we got here…” Jungkook didn't trust himself, their feedings still almost always ended in Taehyung needing to pull him off whoever he had seduced that night.

“No worries Jungkook…just do what you always do and it will be fine..” Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, black hair falling in locks over his forehead while his smile sent chills down Jungkook’s spine.

You were putting the last touches on your costume, fingers playing with the red lipstick and feathers on your head, even patting on your hair. This wasn't your first performance but it was the first time your outfit was like it was. The skirt was red with black details and in the same length it had always been, just like the black thigh highs, but the top…It was a net of pearls and red threads which clung to your breasts and back. One wrong move and it would drop.

“I don't know about this…” Juliette, a girl who had been here a little longer than you stopped darkening her eyelashes.

“What?” she wore the same clothing as you but her breast was even bigger. “ It will be fine, besides Charles wants to make it different..”

She stood behind you and started to powder you with the sparkling substance, putting it on your shoulders and collarbones.

“Show time girls!” Lynette’s voice jumped between the mirrors in the dancers lounge and you took one last breath before standing up.

Big lights hung over the middle of the floor and the sides were as full as they usually are, but you couldn't really make out anyone due to the dimer lighting on the sides. The music started and you followed the rhythm with your friends around you, sweat forming as you moved around. Legs lifted and you would never get used to the breeze trailing up your thighs. Turing and doing the splits, up again to lift your leg as high as you could, grateful for the stability of Juliette to your side. Your pulse hammered and you wore that ever lasting smile that was mandatory. The pearls felt like touches over your skin and you missed the more structured top from last week's performance.

The crowd broke out in cheers, the clapping of their hands buzzing in your ears, as your group to the final pose. Your chest heaved up and down, all the smoke making it harder to breathe. Juliette shifted to your side as the lights dimmed over your head. You always felt this rush to get back to the lounge, take off the smeared makeup and needles holding your hair accessories in place.

“Good work.” Good, not great…

Lynette watched everyone of her show girls, a frown on her bright lips. Something had gone wrong or she would have been happier now. Maybe a high class patron had shown displeasure or Charls were on her again about making the number…more.

“Y/n, Chloè, Desiree and Elaine…”lines formed over Lynette’s forehead as she looked through her little black book. You were sure she had her life in that book. “You work the floor..”

Working the floor ment serving drinks to the highest payers and strutting around to make the patrons pay more for special services. Juliette gave you a petty look, her night coming to an end now.

“I’ll see you later then?” she asked lowly as you started to better your makeup, instead of taking it off.

“Yes, good night…”the two of you lived wall to wall where most of the dancers had their homes. Small rooms with small kitchens, small everything really. But it was all you could afford, having escaped the threat of working in the industries.

“Do..do we wear these tops?” Elaine asked ever so carefully, watching Lynette with those wide wide black eyes. She was cute and had this innocence to her but you knew that wasn't the case.

“Yes, now go!” all the girls rushed out and you sighed at the long night this would be.

You spent most time with a man who owned some sort of mine in another country, a man who was very willing to spend money on drinks and food. He tried to get you to eat and drink but that was against the rules, never take from the guests unless it’s in the form of cash. It didn't mean you had sneaked one or two cigarettes and a little wine in your days there.

“Now now mister! Please drink up..”your smile was sickle sweet as you got him to drink more, hoping he would become too inebriated to ask for more. There were rooms all over the club, private rooms. You knew that some girls like that aspect of the job but you wondered if their explanations were the truth.

Most of your customers were in his league of class but on the odd would someone with less money seek you out. Those were usually the fun nights, the nights you could feel like a girl again.

One more hour went by with you on his lap, feeding him and letting him feel the very flesh that built you, until his friends had to help him home. It made you relax, seeing him disappear and the fact that most patrons had their hands on someone already. You had not noticed the shadow in the corner watching you the whole night, not until he slipped behind you.

Chills went down your spine as cold hands fell upon your bare shoulders, a smile so neat it looked fake. He had dark eyes and equally dark hair. A black suit jacket which followed his toned body until his waist, where it opened to rest by his hips, buttons on his shirt unbuttoned.

“Are you finally free now, love?” he was english and gleaming under the lights.”Care to join me this time?”

He slipped down on the velvet chair, where the other man had kept you most of the night. But this man held you gently, circling your waist when had been dragged down over his lap. He didn't really smell like anything and was so cold even if you felt like you were burning.

“Yes of course…”your hand rested on his chest and even the clothes couldn't hide the harness of his muscle. Your smile was back as well but a little more unsure. “ How can I serve you tonight?”

He groaned lowly, pulling you close until he could rest his forehead on your neck. Your pulse started to beat faster as his breath fanned over your skin. You wetted your lips, trying to remember what you were supposed to ask.

“W-would you like a drink?” he tensed at your words. You had unknowingly asked the worst and best question.”Mr…?”

“Jungkook…my name is Jungkook” he sounded breathless and his hold had turned hard against your skin. You could feel the ghost of his lips on your collarbone and it made your blood sing, rushing to the very place he moved.

“O-okay Mr Jungkook…” you leaned from him, watching his hazed eyes.”Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Hmm…”he looked at you through black locks, fingers not pressing into your flesh anymore.” Red wine…”

You were on your feet in seconds. He made you feel weird, all gooey and warm. Juliette was superstitious and she had warned you of vampires ever since London had a break out of blood draining deaths. You didn't believe her or the stories but maybe you were wrong.

Jungkook stared you down when you came back, thighs spread over the seat while he sat comfortably back. You gave him the glass and stood still for a second. Should you run? No, Lynette would skin you alive. The man simply sipped on his drink and watched you with amused eyes.

“Will you sit back down?” he placed the glass on a dark brown table, patting his right thigh.”Love, please don't leave me cool..”

So you sat down over his thigh, facing his front. Jungkook looked up at you with a soft smile, stroking his thumbs over your waist. People did most things just in the open in the club but full on sex was something people were only allowed to do in the private rooms. Still, this felt way more intimate than anything you had ever done before.

“Do I scare you, love?” Jungkooks whole face was a trap of concern, everything but his eyes which shone with something brutal, bone breaking.”I don't want you to be…”

“N-no, you don't scare me Mr Jungkook…” you tried to smile but it was stiff.

Jungkook brought the wine to his lips, drink one gulp before reaching the glass to your lips. You shouldn't drink and you tried to stop yourself from opening your mouth to the pleasant red liquid.

“Such a good girl.” he smiled, making you drink the last sip before dropping the glass right on the floor. You tensed but no one batted an eye your way.

His hands found your waist again and started to roll you over his thigh. Air caught in your throat at the action, fingers gripping his suit. Jungkook kept a steady pace, gaze locked on your reddening face. You wondered if he could feel your growing need against his pants or the shuddering of your body.

“M-mr Jungkook…”you were breathless, shaking slightly when he made it so you landed against his chest. It gave the perfect angle from him to grind your clit on his thigh and have his nose at your neck.

“You smell divine, love..” he groaned close to your ear, moving you in a painfully slow pace.”What’s your name?”

“Y/n…It’s Y/n” you bit your lower lip, trying to stop moans from escaping. Jungkook wasn't in a rush, he took care of you like most men didn't when they were with you.

“Beautiful…just like the rest of you..” he groaned once again near your ear, nipping slightly at the skin.

Reality started to slip from your grasp the more he worked you, kisses trailing down to your neck and hands keeping you moving. You were close to crying over the stimulation. One rule was that the clients couldn't leave marks where they could be seen but you didn't have the heart to stop his bites and kisses, not when he made you feel so good.

Fingers creeped under your skirt until they found your acing pussy. He was gentle as he slipped them inside you but the bite on your shoulder wasn't. You came, sitting back a little on his fingers. Jungkook captured your lips and kissed you until you came down from your high, feeling all empty when he left your insides. You were panting and his eyes were cold. Reality came back as you realised that you were still in the main room.

Jungkook pulled you back for a harder kiss, so fast you crashed against his chest. It was hungry and teethy, breathtaking.

“I’ll come back for you, love…”he groaned against your lips, let you sit down and feel how hard he was. “I’ll come and take you home…”

The haze you sat in made you not care for his words, more than that he would come back.

Jungkook rose from his seat and placed you on it instead, kissing you once more. He held your gaze for a while, fighting with himself for leaving you here but he couldn't stay, not if he didn't want to ruin it all.

“I’ll come back….”

Taehyung woke to the sun filtering through white curtains, the bed wide and empty. Jungkook didn't come home last night apparently but he couldn't hear screams so it most likely went well. However, the calmness was broken when the front door flew up and the aforementioned man came in with distraught hair and bloodshot eyes.

Taehyung sat with the white bedding over his lap, hair hanging loosely over his forehead and with the sun worshiping his body. He didn't move a muscle when Jungkook threw the door to their apartment shut.

“Good morning to you too…” he rose from the bed and put on a blue silk robe while his creation started rummaging through their emergency blood. Jungkook drank at least one liter in such a hurry some dropped down the corners of his mouth. Taehyung cleaned him with his thumb before putting the digit in his own mouth.” So tell me, what have you done?”

Jungkook looked at him with wide brown eyes, seemingly coming back to earth.

“I-I…I found a girl…” Jungkook started and Taehyung couldn't understand why it was such a problem.” She danced at this really popular club and I spent some time with her…”

“Okay and?” Taehyung went to the fancy green chairs which stood by the tall window. Life bustled down on the street under them, the people not disturbed by vampires.

“I didn't feed on her…” Taehyung raised an eyebrow, a little surprised and confused why Jungkook was in such a frenzy over that.”She..I don't know how to describe it but she smelled so nice and I felt like I would go insane from just tasting her skin. Can you imagine what her blood would be like?”

Taehyung watched him with dark eyes. Jungkook may be a little crazy for blood but not feeding because the idea of the blood felt too good was even crazier.

“What are you talking about?” the sun lit Taehyung’s eyes to a burning shade, stroking over his tanned skin.

“That’s the thing! I don't really know more than that she was the best scent I have ever encountered. She was even prettier than the other girls before I caught her scent.” Jungkook fell down on the chair before Taehyung, undoing his vest.” I couldn't stay after I made her cum because I didn't want to destroy the place or her…”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“I left and went to the forest to cool down…”a disgusted look creeped over Jungkook’s face. “I even drank from some animal…”

“So…If I understand correctly you found a girl that seemingly has the best blood you have ever smelled and you left her, after making her cum, to eat from an animal?” Jungkook looked sheepishly at Taehyung. “Hmmm, I guess you’ll just have to bring me to her.”

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook or the whole situation. He had left so fast, left you with aching thighs. You hadn't told Juliette or anyone anything but you felt insane.

“Come on girls! Faster” Lynette urged everyone to hurry getting ready.

You fixed your rogue one last time and glanced down on your shoulder. Jungkook had bitten you but it didn't look too bad and he hadn't left any other marks which meant you were safe from Lynette.

The music turned up and you performed the same fast dance again with the same wide smile. Turn and lift a leg, lift the leg higher. It was a sweaty routine but the adrenaline made everything feel great.

The crowd roared their approval once again and you slipped away with the rest of the girls, catching your breath. Juliette smiled at you, grabbing your hand with a little laugh.

“Much better this time!” Lynette had something aching to a smile on her face.”Y/n, Chloe, Gabrielle and Gicelle on the floor.”

Again? You would have killed to get home early but the smack of the little black book closing told you that it wouldn't happen. Juliette gave you the same look as last night and you got ready to go out again. However, anticipation followed with this time. Jungkook had told you he would be back, so you swallowed and held your head high.

People laughed and buzzed around you but it didn't take long before your wrist was captured by a cold hand. Jungkook’s hair was wilder this time around as he dragged you to a dark corner where the red velvet curtains fell over a booth, creating an almost private room.

Another man already sat there, sipping on red wine when the two of you walked in. Jungkook didn't waste a second to close the curtains, leaving candles to light the round table. You swallowed hard when the man made eye contact, smirking widely.

“Hello darling…my friend has told me a lot about you.” his voice was raspy and deep, dragging like a cat’s tongue up your spine. Jungkook stood ridgid to your right.”Come sit..”

The mystery man patted to his left and you slipped down, goosebumps raising on our skin as the soft material touched you. Jungkook sat down on your other side and you felt like a trapped animal.

“My name is Taehyung and yours is?” the mystery man asked, taking another sip of his wine.

“Y/n…it’s nice to meet you Mr Taehyung..” you swallowed again, feeling your mouth dry. You should tell them that this service would cost but you couldn't get another word out. They were both really beautiful.

“Only Taehyung…and Jungkook is fine..” he smiled down at you, fingers capturing your chin so he could move your head to the side. “What are you going to offer us?”

Your mind blanked, eyes finding Jungkook’s intense stare. It didn't feel like he was talking about food, drinks or even sex, but you didn't know what else at the same time.

“A-anything you can afford Mr- I mean Taehyung…” he pulled your head so you could look him in the eyes, lowly laughing at your answer.

“Well that is great…Jungkook make our darling ready…”Taehyung let you go with a dismissive voice but you didn't have time to think more about him when Jungkook disappeared down under the table.

You could feel his hands make their way up your legs until they reached your clothed core. He ripped the fabric off you and started assaulting your pussy with his lips, sucking and licking at everything. You barely managed to keep the scream down, leaning into the cushions behind your back. Taehyung made you lean against him instead, watching you with an amused shine in his honey eyes. He put an arm around you while he poured more wine in his glass. Jungkook worked you closer and closer under the table, forcing your quivering thighs to stay spread.

“He´s good with his mouth isn't he?” Taehyung smirked at your hazy eyes, drank some wine before he put his lips on yours, parting them so the red liquid could slip down your throat. You clenched your skirt, swallowing every drop until Taehyung left your lips. You came panting, back arching into Taehyung's side.”Shh shh, let it go darling…”

He whispered in your hair, taking deep breaths of you and your rushing blood. Taehyung drank more wine, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“You should give Jungkook a reward..he has made you cum, twice..” Taehyung nodded down to where the younger one still hid, kissing your groin and stroking your thigh.” Don't you think he deserves it?”

You nodded breathlessly, watching as Taehyung leaned into you with a sinister smile.

“Tell him then, darling. Tell him he can take a sip.” you didn't understand what he meant by that but you whispered that Jungkook could and the man didn't waste a second to bite down on the inside of your thigh.

Jungkook drank greedily from your body and you should scream or run but a rush of adrenaline turned the sligh pain to pleasure. You threw your head back crying out into your hand. It felt like you were getting off again and Taehyung’s lips on your collarbones didn't make things easier.

“Now now…We need to be careful with our darling…” Taehyung pushed Jungkook until he detached from your thigh. “Don't forget to kiss the wound…”

Jungkook came up from under your skirt again, mouth covered in your cum and a small string of blood. His irises shone bright red and his plush lips were pushed down by sharp canines.

“Is our darling slut ready? Hmm?” Taehyung laughed at the sight of his creation but was a little jealous that he got to taste you first deep down.

“Yes and she tastes divine…”Jungkook could suck you dry right then and there but he was happy Taehyung didn't let him.

“In which way?” the man to your side laughed lightly as he spoke, kissing the top of your head.”Are you ready for the main event darling?”

You gasped as he pushed the wine off the table, placing you right on it. Both men stood looming over you, Jungkook by your head and Taehyung between your thighs. He ripped your skirt in half, left your lower half cool to the air. Long, slender fingers slid down fabric as Taehyung undressed from his shirt, leaving you to stare at his skin. He dropped his slacks and underwear, cock hard and eager for your wetness. His hand found your hips and you could feel the tip of his cock as he moved it up and down.

“Do you want me in you, slut?” you quivered, eyes squeezing shut as you nodded.”Say it!”

“Yes! Yes I want you inside me, please~~” Taehyung pushed inside your pussy, taking care to let you adjust but it was hard not moving directly in your heat. He groaned over you and rolled his hips carefully.

Jungkook was painfully hard over your head, muscles on display since he had lost his shirts somewhere along the line. You could see his cock strain against the fabric of his pants.

“Uh Uh…focus on me, slut..” Taehyung left your pussy, just to push completely inside you again.”He has had his fun, it's my turn now.”

He angled his hips in a way which hit a spot which sent stars to your gaze. You moaned loudly, hands coming to grasp his soft hair. Taehyung leaned over you, moved so deep and fast you felt like it was hard to breathe. He kissed between the junction of your neck and shoulder, small small kisses until he bit and pierced your skin. Blood moved from your to him as he fucked you hard on the table. He drank and drank, groaning against your skin.

Jungkook moaned over your head. He couldn't touch you yet but he couldn't stop himself from stroking his cock at the sight of Taehyung fucking you hard, of him drinking your delicate blood.

“Fuck…” Taehyung left your neck and smiled at his creations' breathy whisper.”She looks so good”

Taehyung licked his red stained lips, his irises also red now.

“You were right…” he straightened from your body, groaning as he pushed into you. “She is delicious…our little slut..”

Jungkook gave the older one a hopeful eye and Taehyung felt like being nice today, besides being so hard must hurt. He pushed you closer to the other edge of the table, keeping a steady hold and pace. You could feel him in the deepest parts of yourself.

“Go ahead Jungkook, use her little mouth..” your eyes widened as Jungkook pushed slowly past your lips, shuddering as you desperately tried to swallow around him.

“So good…” Jungkook petted your cheek with affection in his red eyes. “Such a good girl.”

He pushed until you couldn't take more, gurgling around his cock. Taehyung had been still until he thought you were okay, then he moved with an eagerness that hadn't been there before. He lifted one of your legs so it could rest on his shoulder and it pushed you deeper on Jungkook’s cock. The boy threw his head back but all you saw was hard abs. Teras and spit ran all over your face, your body in their complete control. You felt a sharp pain shoot from just above your knee when Taehyung bit you again, sucking the warm blood from your veins. Jungkook leaned over the table, completely filling your throat and mouth, and kissed Taehyung to get a taste of your blood. His fingers threaded through Taehyung’s hair as he moved in and out of your pussy.

“Greedy brat…” Taehyung laughed but ended the sound with a groan as you clamped down on him, struggling to breathe slightly.”You need to let our slut breathe Jungkook…”

He left your mouth with a wet pop, cock dripping in your spit as you caught slightly while air rushed down to your lungs. Taehyung kept moving in and out of you, hand pressing down on your lower stomach. You whined out, eyes managing to catch Jungkook’s before he moved back into your mouth. You were pushed between the two of them, listening to the wet sounds echo in your ears.

Jungkook removed your thread shirt and flicked at your nipples, groaning when you swallowed around his cock. Taehyung loved the sight of your flushed flesh and stuffed pussy, your heat made him almost burst right then and there. Jungkook played some more with your breasts before he leaned down and bit the side of your stomach. They boy couldn't get enough of your blood and he cummed down your throat with one last hard suck from you. The mixture of cumming and tasting your blood made him lightheaded. He tasted saltier than other men but it wasn't unpleasant, not when Taehyung pushed at your spot.

He grabbed your waist and sat down on the cushioned seat. A dazzling smile filled your vision as he met your falling body.

“Such a good slut…You did great…” he stroked over your hair, stroked the inside of your pussy.

You panted over him, head falling back as he sunk his teeth into the top of your left breast. One hand held you up right while the other trailed down to your clit. Taehyung knew he was close so he wanted you to cum for him. It didn't take long for him to get you there, back arching into his mouth while your pussy clenched on him, milking him for all his worth. You almost screamed as you came a second time that night, collapsing into his hard body.

Taehyung laughed a little breathy over your shoulder, maneuvering the two of you until he could slip out of you. He kissed every place someone had bit you so the wounds would close up. He was very gentle, so gentle that you had a hard time keeping your eyes open or maybe it was the blood loss.

“It’s okay darling, rest…” he whispered into your ear, getting Jungkook to drape his coat over your cooling body.

Most of your clothes had been destroyed so the two of them would have to go shopping for you and you would need food, preferably something high on iron. Taehyung smiled down at your sleeping form, cleaning your face a little from smeared makeup and saliva.

“Come on Jungkook, we need to get her back…”

You sat up fast, eyes scanning a light blue walled big room. You were aching and only covered by a white silk cover. The sun shone into the room through thin curtains, moving slightly with a soft breeze from the opened window. Memories of last night, or at least you thought it was from last night, flickered in your mind. The crushing feeling of cumming and sharp teeth. You looked at your thigh and could see two faint marks on it but if you didn't know to look there, they would be almost undetectable.

The door was suddenly pushed opened and in came the two men in your memories. Jungkook smiled wide and Taehyung came to kiss the top of your head.

“Morning darling, slept well?” he let go of his bags, fabrics poking out of them.

Jungkook dropped his outerwear and vest, crawling up the bed until he could pull you close to him, face resting in the crook of your neck. Taehyung did the same and took your other side, stroking his fingers over your covered stomach. Red eyes flashed in your mind and you realised Juliette had been right.

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daechwitatamic · 1 year

Text

VI. Don't Think About Him || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love.

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

You try - and fail - to figure out who and what you want.

Section Warnings: excessive drinking, bar scenes, language, kissing, groping, maybe grinding idk

WC: 6k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sunday October 28th

Fire burns low in the hearth, but my feet itch and beg to go, into the night where the wolfpack hunts, into the storm of wind and snow.

I can hear only their hunting song. The blizzard steals from me my sight. I have no map to traverse this land, But I peer wistfully into the night.

The wolves, the storm, the wild land, Even still I must decide. I know despite the dangers, I can’t afford to stay inside.

“That’s fucking terrible,” you mutter, closing your book and scooting it away from you in disgust. “Wolves? Am I fourteen? For fuck’s sake.”

Still, it does touch on how you feel: like proceeding forward will result in you getting ripped to metaphorical shreds - but staying here, stuck in the familiar just because you’ve deemed it safe, would somehow be worse.

“Talking to yourself?” someone asks, and you jump with a shriek.

“Namjoon!” you scold, as you register that it’s him in the doorway. “I thought you weren’t home for a few more hours!”

He crosses the room and tosses his bag onto his bed. “Yoongi has a lead foot.”

“How was it?” you ask mildly.

Namjoon wiggles his head, indicating both good and bad. “The brewery was really fun,” he says. “And it was nice for us all to hang out and talk at the house. We all used to dorm together… it’s been weird not living in the same place as them. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

This makes you smile. You’d been to that dorm once or twice, but you’d refused to hang out with Taehyung there because… well, dudes are stinky. And you’re not a clean freak by any means, but it was a little gross over there.

“Well it was lonely and boring here,” you report. “I’m glad you’re back.”

You’re instantly unsure if that was too forward, too much. Namjoon going away the literal day after you’d kissed him had given you plenty of time to think in private, but it had also given you room to sow doubts in your own mind. But Namjoon smiles shyly, pleased, so cute it makes your toes wiggle.

“I’m glad to be back too,” he says. “I’m gonna go shower and unpack. Have you made plans for dinner yet? We could order later?”

You hadn’t, but you have a feeling Taehyung will want to hang out after two days away. “I have plans,” you lie, figuring it will end up being true.

“Ah, no problem then,” Namjoon says easily, and heads into his room, closing the door behind him with a little wave.

You text Taehyung - “welcome home!! dinner later?” - and get up to start some laundry. By the time it’s done washing, and drying, and you’ve folded it, he still hasn’t answered.

You try again - “hello??? this is y/n, looking for signs of life???”

This time, the response is almost immediate.

[4:56 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: sorry [4:56 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: can’t tonight

In the end, you walk to campus alone, eating by yourself in the far corner of the cafeteria. You’ve splurged on ordering too much lately when these meals are built into your tuition. Besides, you don’t want Namjoon to know that your “plans” fell through.

Friday November 2nd

Angel on the right… Devil on the left…

You look side to side, conflicted. Such a strong case for each.

“Are those for tonight?”

You jump, spinning away from the two Halloween costumes you’ve laid out on your bed. It’s not like Namjoon to come over to your side of the apartment; in fact, you’re not sure he’s ever talked to you while you’re in your own room. It’s usually you going over to his door to bother him, if you aren't both in the living room or kitchen.

“Yeah,” you say. “I can’t decide. You’re coming?”

“I think we all are, except Yoongi,” Namjoon tells you. “I’m going as a detective. I have a magnifying glass and everything.”

You laugh. “I can’t wait to see that. Any thoughts on which way I should go tonight?” You mean the costumes. You’d texted Taehyung for his opinion and he’d returned with, “flip a coin”. You’re not sure why you expected anything else from him.

“I think that’s going to depend on your mood,” Namjoon teases. “How are we feeling today? Naughty or nice?”

You raise your eyebrows. Was that… outright flirtation? “What if I’m feeling both?” you ask.

He laughs. “You need one of those half-and-half costumes. I’ve seen them in the stores.”

You have too, but you think they’re cheesy. “I think I’ll go devil,” you muse, a finger on your lips as you consider. “The angel wings are pretty cumbersome. And the bars are going to be slammed.”

“Naughty it is.” Namjoon flashes you a grin and disappears from your doorway, throwing over his shoulder, “No complaints from me!”

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the giggle. Well this is new, and damn, you want to keep playing.

You Uber together to the first bar of the town’s Halloween pub crawl, the guys waiting for you outside. Taehyung howls in laughter at Namjoon’s long coat, fedora, and magnifying glass.

“I see the devil won the coin toss,” he says to you, grinning.

You roll your eyes, still a little peeved that he couldn’t take anything seriously, even when you needed him to. This was a trivial thing, but still. It wasn’t a lot to ask.

Jungkook hands you and Namjoon a flyer with a QR code - it listed the locations of each bar and what time the group would move, in case you got lost or missed the exodus. Inside, you have to pay to get wristbanded, but the wristband earns you special prices at each of the stops.

“This does not go with my costume,” you pretend to pout, the bright yellow wristband glaring against your short, red dress.

“I think everyone will understand,” Namjoon teases. Taehyung appears on your other side, pointing out the little laminated sign that advertises this bar’s drink specials.

“You two need to catch up,” he insists.

Three hours and two bars later, you think you’ve achieved this. You and Taehyung cling to each other’s arms, holding each other up, somehow taking turns being the one who needs help staying upright. The first two bars had offered specials on shots, but this one only has special offers for mixed drinks and beer.

“Do we pay full price for shots, or do we let The Man tell us it’s time to settle down?” you muse loudly into Taehyung’s ear.

“Don’t start with that shit,” he tells you. “This is Halloween, not a hippie convention.”

“I see at least four hippies,” you sniff indignantly.

“I think you’re seeing double,” he counters. “No more shots for you.”

“You aren’t in charge of me!” you yell, and head for the bar at a clip, ankles crying for mercy in your heels. You grasp the bar in both hands when you get there, steady yourself, and then reach up to fix your horn headband, which had been starting to slide. You thought Taehyung was right behind you, but when you turn to look, he’s talking to a girl in a mermaid costume.

Of course.

It’s fine.

The bartender finally catches your eye and you flash your wristband, indicating you’ll take the special. He nods, turns and picks up a bottle. A body settles beside you; you turn, expecting that Taehyung caught up, or maybe Jungkook stopped by for a beer. Instead, a guy you’ve never seen before smiles at you.

He’s in scrubs, complete with a fake stethoscope (you think it’s fake, anyway) slung around his neck. His nametag reads Dr. Love. You laugh out loud. “That’s so corny,” you say, your filter well and gone for the night.

Luckily, he laughs too. “It’s sewed on!” he protests. “I honestly almost Sharpied it out, but I thought that would look even stupider.”

He’s really cute, you notice. He looks… clean. Older.

“You look…” he trails off, letting his eyes roam to your feet and back appreciatively, “phenomenal. Is there an angel wandering around here looking for you?”

You grin. “Just me.”

If Kim Taehyung can find a hookup everywhere he goes, why can’t you?

But as you lean against the bar and take a sip of your drink, your eyes scan the bar before you. In the mirrored wall behind the team of bartenders, you can see a slightly distorted view of the patrons and all of their costumes.

Your eye catches on a detective.

Namjoon’s eyes hold yours through the mirror, though he’s about six seats down from you. There’s a tiny smile on his lips as he sips at what looks like a beer. A smile that says maybe he should have expected this. It’s the same face he’s seen on you when Taehyung does exactly what he did tonight.

Beside you, Dr. Love is asking you something, but you don’t hear him at all. You don’t want to be here, in this spot, anymore. You want to be six seats over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, interrupting him, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on your face. “I just found one of my friends, and I’d lost them. Enjoy your night, though!”

You slip away before he can protest more than a syllable, before you can really register the disappointment on his face and feel guilty about it. Better luck next time, Doctor, you think, as you make your way to Namjoon.

As soon as you’re close enough he extends an arm, making a space for you right next to him. His arm tucks you closer, protective. He walks with you towards the far end of the bar, where it’s marginally less crowded. Once you settle into a spot there, he doesn’t remove his arm. His fingers rest on your bare, body-glittered shoulder, moving imperceptibly now and then, as if they have their own agenda.

“Are you having fun?” you ask him.

“Loud bars aren’t usually my thing,” he answers. “But the costumes are great.”

There’s a lot of alcohol in your system; your filter’s taken a hit. “I like this,” you sigh happily, closing your eyes for a second. You think you sway on your feet a little. The arm around your shoulders tightens.

“Like what?” His voice has gone deep, and you shiver a little. You want to kiss him again; you’d blame the shots but you’ve been thinking about it since it happened. The drinks just make it louder.

“Your arm around me,” you tell him honestly, and he ducks his head, dimples appearing along with a blush.

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You’re drunk,” he accuses playfully.

“It’s a Halloween pub crawl,” you point out flatly. “I’m supposed to be drunk.”

“That’s a fair point,” he allows. Then, he peers at you through squinted eyes. “Are you okay, though? How drunk are you?”

You consider this. “Drunk enough that I want to kiss you again, to hell with the consequences. Not too drunk to remember that there would be consequences.”

The playfulness leaves his face; it’s too obvious not to notice. “Consequences like what?”

It’s a challenge. He knows you know it.

“Namjoon,” you say, a little pleading. Don’t.

“Consequences like Taehyung would see?” he presses. His voice has gone hard. He’s tiptoed around this issue before, but it’s the first time either of you have ever really given it life.

You feel like you want to cry. “Are you mad? About Taehyung?”

He softens. His fingers brush your shoulder again, absently. “No,” he admits, deflated. “No, I guess I’m not. But we both know that’s what you meant.” He removes his arm from your shoulders. It hangs listlessly at his side. You feel its absence painfully, like it had kept you tethered and now you might float away.

“Hey,” you say sharply, and reach for his hand. You miss and get his wrist, but you hold it like your life depends on it. He looks at you curiously. “I like you,” you tell him firmly. “A lot. I’m trying not to mess everything up - with anyone. But he’s my family, and if I lose him…” You take a deep gulp of air, trying to will your pulse to calm, your stomach to settle, your eyes to clear of stupid tears. “I have no one left. It feels… delicate,” you finish finally. You need him to understand. You wish you were better at explaining.

Namjoon twists his wrist from your grasp gently, but takes your fingers in his. “What about me?” he asks, voice a little pouty. “We aren’t delicate?”

You smile at him, relief giving you more of a high than anything else could right now. “No,” you say, and touch his chest lightly, just over his beating heart. You brush your hand down his chest, drop it to your side, and turn to stare out at the crowd. “No,” you say again, finishing the thought. “You aren’t delicate at all. You’re steady. That’s something I really like about you.”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches between you, tension building like a bassline, and then he gives a tug to the hand he’s holding. You turn back to look at him.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asks plaintively.

You open your mouth immediately to answer, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t think about him when you answer that,” he commands seriously, fingers clutching yours so tightly it almost hurts. “Don’t think about anything else but you and me. What do you want?”

What do you want?

“I…” you start feebly, unsure how you’ll even finish the sentence. “I want…”

Jimin rushes up to you, breathless, grabbing both of your arms. Namjoon drops your hand like it’s burned him. If Jimin notices, he doesn’t let on.

“We have to go,” he pants. “Literally right now. Jungkook hit on some huge guy’s girlfriend, it’s about to be a thing. Help me find everybody?”

“Where are they?” Namjoon asks, quickly setting his beer glass on the bar and reaching for your drink too. You let him take it, eyes wide.

“Taehyung grabbed Jungkook and ran - I think they’re outside. Have you seen Hobi? Or Jin?”

“Jin left with a girl two bars ago,” you supply, glad to be able to help.

“I see Hobi,” Namjoon says, craning his neck to scan the crowd. “I’ll go get him. Y/N, go with Jimin, we’ll meet up outside.”

He moves without waiting for an answer, wading through the crowd in what must be Hobi’s direction. Jimin takes you by the hand - it feels much different than it had felt a minute ago with Namjoon - and leads you through the crowd hurriedly, dodging people left and right. You look over your shoulder as he pulls you, trying to find Namjoon in the sea of people, but you can’t.

Outside, Jungkook seems to be arguing heatedly with the bouncer.

“Come on,” Taehyung is telling him, looking honestly pissed. “Let’s just go. The night’s already ruined, let’s just leave.”

You pull away from Jimin and head for Taehyung.

“Hey,” you say softly, resting a hand on his arm. He turns on you, still furious, but you don’t waver. “Take a breath,” you tell him softly.

His temper gets the best of him sometimes.

He shakes his head, angry, but you see his chest move as he obeys anyway. A second later he says, more calmly, “Come on, Jungkook, we can even go somewhere else if you want. We won’t have fun here, that guy’s friends are all worked up in there.”

Jungkook relents as Hobi and Namjoon join you on the sidewalk. You slide your hand off of Taehyung’s arm, feeling weirdly guilty.

“We rallying?” Hobi asks hopefully. “Or did we kill the buzz?”

“Rally!” Jimin cheers, going over and shaking a sullen Jungkook’s shoulder. “Come on! The night prevails!”

“I’ll go somewhere else,” Taehyung says.

“I think I’m done,” Namjoon says, glancing at his phone for the time. “I’ll Uber from here.”

“Y/N?” Taehyung asks, looking to you. For a second, you’re not sure why. Then you realize - you either have to Uber home with Namjoon, or opt to continue on with the rest of the guys.

The angel whispers that you haven’t hung out with Taehyung as much lately.

The devil whispers that you and Namjoon could be all alone.

0-2 for the angels tonight.

“I’m tired,” you say. “I’ll Uber with Namjoon. You guys have fun though. JK, try to keep it in your pants.”

He flips you off wordlessly, still sulking.

They all tell you goodbye, Taehyung giving you an extra-tight squeeze with his hug, and they walk down the block to find another bar. You turn to Namjoon, who’s tapping at his phone to order a ride.

What do you want? His question floats in your head.

You don’t know. You want too much, too many things, too many contradictions.

It seems like Namjoon knows, and forgives you. He silently holds out a hand, waiting. You take it, keeping it tight in yours, not letting go even as you slide into the backseat of the Uber, as it weaves through the neighborhoods until it stops in front of your building, as it drives away, leaving you lit in red taillights before vanishing around the corner.

You’re standing on the sidewalk in front of your building’s front door, Namjoon’s hand in yours, your eyes sleepy but your pulse racing.

He tugs you towards the stairs, and you think he’s going to lead you inside. Instead he spins you and presses you back against the stone balustrade, one hand splayed across the middle of your spine, the other cupping your jaw as he kisses you insistently.

You open immediately for him, giving a happy noise low in your throat. His spare hand, the one not holding you up off the rough stone below, grips the back of your neck for the barest of seconds before continuing down - rubbing patterns past your shoulder blade, the middle of your back, down to the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip, the meat of your ass. He’d better appreciate every curve, you squeezed into spanx for this dress.

You grip at the lapels of his ridiculous detective coat, the earth spinning in circles around you in a blur. You’re aware of only where your hands bunch the fabric, of only where his teeth and lips and tongue clash with yours, of only the fiery path his hand traces up and down your body. You melt into his touch, wanting more, trying to pull him closer, trying to get lost in each sensation.

He breaks the kiss to nip a line of sharp nibbles down your neck. You whine, trying to give him more room. His hands come to rest on your ribcage, thumbs not quite reaching your chest, which has to be a conscious decision on his part. You can feel the cold night air on your thighs; your dress has ridden up. This snaps you out of the moment a little.

“Namjoon,” you murmur, but it comes out a little whiny as he continues to nibble down near the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “We should go inside.”

He stills, then pulls away, eyes seeking yours for any signs of discontent. “Yeah,” he says finally, one syllable all he can handle. “Come on.”

He releases your body gently, letting you find your balance on the pavement. Then, he leads you up the stairs and inside. In the threshold of the apartment, you look at him, a question on your face.

“We’re both really drunk,” he says apologetically, reaching out to brush some stray hairs away from your face. “We should probably cool down a little.”

He’s right - you know he’s right.

“Yeah,” you say, letting the front door close behind you. “Okay.”

You press one palm against the wall for balance as you fight with your shoes, sliding them off one at a time.

Namjoon’s in his room, but the door hangs open. You pause in the doorway of your bedroom, realizing you have a problem.

“Um, hey,” you call across the living room, and he takes a few steps to come look at you. He’s lost the hat and the long coat, and his button-down is undone, revealing a tight, white undershirt beneath. “I promise this isn’t a come-on,” you say, biting back a smile. “But I legitimately can’t reach the zipper on this. Can you-?”

“Of course,” he says, crossing the living room. You turn your back to him, presenting the zipper. He gently sweeps your hair off of your nape and places it over your shoulder. You shiver, goosebumps rising along your arms, and you hear him hum a pleased noise at your reaction. You feel him fumble with the hook-and-eye at the top, and then the zipper sounds. He pauses halfway down your back.

“That good?” he checks. “You can reach that?”

“Yes,” you say, turning back to face him. He’s still got a bit of your lipstick on his mouth, and it makes you have to fight off a smirk. Down, girl. “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

He looks at you for a long minute, expression unreadable. Finally, he says, “Goodnight,” and steps back out into the darkness of the living room. When he gets to his room this time, he closes the door behind him with a soft click. You stare at the inch of light that comes from under his door for a minute before hurrying to close your own door against the dark.

Sunday November 4th

You spend most of Saturday in bed, heart and head both pounding, which means you have a lot of homework to cram in on Sunday.

After you shower and eat, you set up in the living room to get some work done. Namjoon’s door is halfway open, and you can hear the clacking and bass thumps that mean he’s writing in there.

Midafternoon, he appears in his doorway, stretching widely. Your eyes skim the inch of stomach exposed with the stretch and then flick back to your page before he can catch you.

“How’s it going?” he asks, heading into the kitchen.

You twist your mouth, eyeing your laptop and the text spread open on your lap. “I guess it’s going. Sort of.”

“What are you working on?” he asks.

“A paper for one of the bullshit general classes,” you tell him. “Which makes it more challenging, because I deeply do not care.”

He laughs at this, then plops onto the couch a few feet away from you, a water bottle in his hands.

“How about you?” you ask. “It sounded like it was going well.”

“It was going okay,” he agrees. “I reached the end of a scene, so now I need to like… process, look at what’s coming next. I might take a short walk and let it marinate in my brain a little.”

You smile. “How come you never work out here?” you ask him, just curious.

He gives a quick, self-deprecating laugh. “I wouldn’t get anything done. I’d just talk to you.”

You flush, feeling your face heat up, and bite back a smile. “What if I refused to answer?” you offer. “I could just sit here like -.” You mime zipping your lips, still fighting a smile. For good measure, you lock it up and throw the key over your shoulder.

His smile grows. “Wouldn’t help. I’d still be able to look at you.”

Your blush intensifies; you’re tempted to go stick your head in the freezer to cool your cheeks down. “I’ll turn around, then,” you tell him.

His grin turns wolfish. “I assure you, that will not solve the problem.”

Your jaw drops. “Kim Namjoon!” you scold, but you’re giggling.

“I’m just being honest!” he defends, laughing deeply, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Anyway, why? Does it bother you that I stay in there?”

“No,” you say immediately. “You can do what you want.”

He gives you a knowing look, like he’s used to your bullshit and isn’t falling for it. When did that happen? “Don’t get prickly,” he warns.

“Don’t compare me to plants,” you grumble.

“Do you want me to work out here instead?” he asks gently, smiling at you like you’re adorable, which just sets your prickliness off even more.

“I don’t know what I want,” you retort.

There’s a long, stretchy silence as you both consider just how true those words are, on several different levels.

Finally, Namjoon gives you a nod in goodbye and heads back to his room.

This time, he closes the door gently behind him.

–

Taehyung invites you out that night, to see a movie you’d been talking about. You tell him yes, as long as you can go to the earlier showing. But then you start to feel… guilty. Unsure.

You want to ask Namjoon if he cares if you hang out with Taehyung still. He’s bothered by some aspect of your friendship, obviously, but you don’t know what it is. Is it only the fact that Taehyung is a bit of a barrier for you two? Or is he threatened by the whole friendship?

You lay sideways across your bed in the fading late afternoon light, considering this. You imagine asking Namjoon. You think his answer would probably be, do what you want, I’m not your boyfriend.

Which, fair. That conversation needs to come first. Are you together, do either of you even really want that?

In the end, you don’t bring it up. When it’s time, you do your best to sneak out of the apartment, hoping to avoid any conversation about it at all.

Taehyung’s car idles on the street below, and you let yourself in the passenger side and buckle up. You’re anxious, you realize, as Taehyung starts complaining about an argument he had with Jimin back at their place. You’re afraid he’ll ask something that will lead the conversation to Namjoon, afraid that he’ll catch you tripping up, clue in that there’s something worth his attention there.

You can’t lie to him. He knows this as well as you do.

That’s why he never asks you questions he doesn’t really want the answers to.

You’re anxious for nothing, because Taehyung talks about his own shit for the whole drive to the movies, and the whole time you’re in line for snacks, and for the whole time before the movie starts as you sit in the back row of the theater munching on overpriced popcorn.

But the movie is good, and you get pulled into the fictional world, and when the lights come on you find Taehyung’s arm casually over the back of your seat. You hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“I can’t believe Jimin wouldn’t come see this,” Taehyung scoffs as you file out of the theater and back to the lobby. “That was so good! Just because he doesn’t like that one actor?”

You’re curious if Taehyung would have still asked you to join him tonight if Jimin hadn’t turned him down first.

But, like Taehyung, you don’t ask questions if you aren’t prepared to hear the truth. So you don’t ask. What would be the point?

You wonder during the drive home if you’d feel better talking to Taehyung about what was going on with you if the guy in question wasn’t his friend.

Maybe.

But only a little better.

Monday November 5th

Unlike the Monday before, Namjoon leaves for campus without you on Monday morning. You aren’t sure if he’s upset with you, or if he just needed to be there early. You’re too cowardly to ask.

You need some support.

If it’s not coming from your “best friend”, you’ll have to outsource.

You trudge through your morning class, eat as fast as you can - alone - in the cafeteria, and head to the student center. You get to the store well before your shift starts.

You aren’t allowed to clock in yet, so you kill some time doing reading for class in the stock room. The second your shift starts, you’re at the front registers, uncomfortably close to Kris’s personal bubble.

“Yes?” they ask you archly, eyeing your proximity suspiciously.

“I… have a confession to make,” you say, your voice as quiet as you can make it. You’re barely moving your mouth, you’re trying so hard to not actually say these words. “There… has been… perhaps… some kissing.”

Kris is stunned into silence for the first time since you’ve known them. Eyes wide and jaw slack, they stare at you. Then, they clarify loudly, “By you?”

You growl in exasperation. “Don’t be cute.”

Kris beams. “Can’t help it, it’s ingrained in my DNA.”

“I need you to be just a tiny bit serious,” you tell them, “because I am having a full-blown crisis.”

Kris sobers instantly. “Wait,” they whisper. “Crisis? Explain.”

“I kissed…” you cast your eyes around the bookstore, making sure no one’s lurking, “...the one I live with.”

Kris gasps. “You did not! You kissed him? Not the other way around?”

“I did,” you admit, feeling yourself flush again. “Twice. Well, the second time he started it, if you want to get technical.”

“I do want to get technical,” Kris whispers, voice almost reverent. “I can’t fucking believe this. So, why the crisis?”

You take a deep breath. Which factor to start with? Because you don’t want to give up on Taehyung yet? Because you don’t want to risk altering that friendship beyond repair? Because you don’t know if Namjoon will be able to handle your best friend being a guy - a guy that you’ve had feelings for?

“Because I don’t know what I want,” you say, the simplest truth. “I can’t get my head straight.”

Kris cocks their head. “If you didn’t know Taehyung - if you removed him completely from the situation -.”

“Impossible,” you protest.

They hold up a finger to silence you. “If you removed him from the situation,” they continue over you, “would you want to pursue things with Namjoon?”

Guilt hits you like an ocean wave, tugging you down, down, down. “Yes,” you whisper, because that part is just true. There’s no wiggle room, no if’s. You like him. You want to see where it will go. If there were no chance of losing Taehyung in the mix, it wouldn’t be a question at all.

“Y/N,” Kris says insistently, leaning towards you. “You are not doing anything wrong here. Taehyung is your friend. Nothing else - and that’s his fault. You aren’t, like, betraying him by catching feelings for someone else. He can’t expect you to sit around waiting for him until you die!”

“He doesn’t expect that,” you say, still in a whisper, because suddenly your throat is tight in that way it gets when you’re upset.

“You need to talk to Taehyung,” Kris tells you gently. You groan. “And the conversation should not be you asking for permission, either!” they continue, impassioned. “You need to tell him I’m seeing someone and you need to be okay with it.”

“But they’re friends,” you protest. “It’s so messy. I’ve never had messy before.”

“You’ve never had anything before,” Kris points out.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble. “Yes I have.”

“Nothing that mattered,” they correct. “Nothing with feelings.”

You slump onto the counter. “I hate this.”

“I’m telling you,” Kris says airily. “If you don’t talk to them, this is all going to blow up in your face. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

“Why do you have to be right all the time,” you complain. Kris smiles beatifically.

When your shifts ends, your feet take you not towards home, but towards the academic building where Namjoon’s “office” is.

You’re thinking about your conversation about Kris; you’re thinking about the idea of fairness.

It isn’t fair, as Kris said, for Taehyung to expect you to wait indefinitely for something that was probably never coming, to hold you emotionally hostage.

It isn’t fair for you to do the same thing to Namjoon - to keep him waiting, wondering, unsure if you’ll ever be completely in it. You know that’s the reason things have kept progressing so slowly between you. You’ve felt guilty letting it get any further, felt afraid of those damn consequences. And if you had to bet, Namjoon has been trying to wait for you to sort it out, to make the choice - to choose him.

You can hear the low tones of his voice as you approach down the quiet hallway. Only the staff are normally back here, sometimes one or two students who need to speak to a professor, so there’s not a lot of foot traffic.

You linger in the hallway, leaning against the wall and messing around on your phone, far enough away to not be able to tell what Namjoon and the student are discussing. When the student - a young guy who looks absolutely dejected as he passes by you - exits, you slip past him and lean against the doorway. Namjoon doesn’t notice you right away. It’s clear that his hours have ended and he’s packing up his stuff. When he does notice a body in the doorway, he jumps, inhaling sharply in alarm.

He slumps against the back of the chair when he registers that it’s you.

“I’m usually the jumpy one,” you giggle.

He gives you a sideways smile as he leaves over his bag on the floor, messing with the clasp. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else. What are you - I mean, what’s up?”

“What am I doing here?” you tease, catching his slip. You feel a little nervous, but you’re determined to do this correctly, to treat him better. “I came to see if you wanted to walk back together.”

Namjoon goes a little still, and you hurry to add, “It’s okay if you don’t! It didn’t make my walk longer or anything to come here first. I just thought I’d check.”

He lets you babble. He does as he’s been doing since the beginning - he waits you out with a patient smile.

“So…” you finally finish, the nerves fluttering and hopping around your stomach. “Do you? Want to walk back with me?”

He stands, lifting his bag from the ground and hoisting it onto his shoulder. “Yes,” he says simply, giving you a tiny smile.

You follow him down the narrow hallway, back down the stairs you’d climbed a minute ago, and outside. It’s a nice day - bright and sunny, chilly but not freezing. Campus is busy, and you have to people-dodge a little as you cross the main section, the crossroads of the two main paths.

The second you cross through the front gate and step onto the city sidewalk on the other side, Namjoon silently reaches for your hand. It’s different from last time, in the rain - not urgent, not pulling. It’s gentle and tentative and, weirdly, somehow sensual the way his thumb runs over your knuckles as he glances sideways at you to see if you’re okay with this.

You give his fingers a tiny squeeze.

You walk together in silence for a few minutes, and then Namjoon asks you quietly. “How was your day? You had class this morning? Was it for Thesis?”

You smile up at him, happy to have someone to talk to about this. Kris would listen, you’re sure, because Kris is a good human, but they would much rather talk about romance. And Taehyung… it’s November, and Taehyung has asked you about your classes or your thesis exactly zero times.

“No, not for my thesis,” you tell him. “Just a regular lit class. It was okay! I was so tired, I could barely stay awake… I think I’m still recovering from the weekend.”

He laughs. “Can’t imagine why,” he teases, voice going a little deeper. “I’m sure you were a perfect angel all weekend long.”

The joke - that you’d dressed as a devil - is not lost on you, and you grin up at him. “Clever,” you say.

He beams back, proud. “Sometimes,” he allows.

“How about you?” you ask. “Did you have class before your TA hours?”

“Yep,” he says, nodding. “Unfortunately, it was a research-based class.”

You groan in sympathy. “First thing on a Monday morning? Fucking ouch.”

“Tell me about it,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m not much of a napper, but damn, I could use a nap.”

At the apartment, you decide to watch a show you’re in the middle of, and you settle on the couch with a throw-blanket over your legs. Namjoon appears in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at you a little balefully.

“Can I… do you mind if I read out here?” he asks.

You scramble to sit up a little making room on the other side of the couch. “You don’t need to ask,” you say, a little appalled that he’d felt the need. “You live here! I never mind, I promise.”

Appeased, he makes his way over and gets comfortable on the other side of the couch. It occurs to you that this is how you and Taehyung usually spend your time - on opposite ends of the couch - but you shove the thought away.

You glance at him now and then as your show plays, and a few times you think you catch him watching more than reading. In between episodes, you notice his book face-down on his chest, rising and falling in deep, even motions. His head leans back against the arm of the couch, and his eyelids flutter as he dreams.

Smiling a tiny smile, you fluff your blanket to cover his legs, and press play for the next episode.

<- Prev || Next ->

Thank you so much for being here!!!!! What did we think of what I lovingly call "the Halloween Pub Crawl Fiasco"?!

Section VII will drop on Friday, February 24th! I hope to see you there!!

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spookyserenades · 4 months

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Questions and thoughts

So, rereading all the chapters some questions cane to mind. I really hope i remember all of them but if not then I'll just send another ask.

I need to know more about hybrid laws and hybrids in general in the world you created. What i gathered until now is that they can't walk without their version of collars and microchip (hybrid ID) and that's kinda the only thing that twigged as law to me. Oh and that they are not allowed to work. What are other laws? Also you'd think that if they were created with the intention of house pet that can talk, wouldn't they only create non-exotic hybrids? But i guess that the exotics are made with the purpose of entertaining the rich. As you said hunting them, maybe sexual desires? Or how Jin was in the circus.

Back to their adoption. Can i ask what everyone was thinking in a few words? Like they new they were going to that rich guy but boom random 23-24 year old girl pops in Hi I got you babes! I'd ask you if you could make a small drabble but I'm too impatient 🤣😭. I was thinking about it and I feel like JK probably thought Oh nice I'm not dying yet but I'm gonna go to a sex house yuhuu.

Scenting! From what I understood all hybrids do it. Please tell me it's not as sexual as the 7 of them make it out to be 😭 Not that i don't enjoy it because that is more hot than a sex scene in my opinion. But i can't imagine Daisy doing it😭😭😭

Let's say for the fun of it Hoseok gets together with Alice. He will want to scent her too. Will he stop scenting Y/N? Will she have to give him to Alice in documents and stuff?

Now relationship wise. Do you plan for them to have a poly relationship or more of a open relationship? Because I don't see any of the boys falling in love with each other but that might be just me.

And now a few random questions. How the fuck does JK get dressed with the antlers? How is Y/N so rich because i want to be rich too? How good is that hearing and smell of theirs because I'd be to anxious to have any bodily functions? (In moments like this it would be nice if girls actually pooped rainbows and farted roses ngl😭) Would it be alright after you finish this if i print it out and make it an actual book?

I think that's it right now... For sure i had more stuff to ask. I'll probably remember after i send this. I love this series a lot and idk if you are belive in shifting or not but I'll definitely try to shift to this world. You are amazing Dana and i can't wait to see what happens next ❤️

Oooh let me see if I can give you some answers (also, thank you for sending in your thoughts 🥺)

For the laws... In Trouvaille, adopted hybrids end up getting an ID card to indicate their adoption status, rather than a collar or a microchip. The only forms of legal "employment" is working with the National Parks, like Jimin, and being circus/zoo performers, like Seokjin. Everything else is a sort of under the table operation or even exploitation-- think Yoongi, his mother and he were favored by a nightclub owner and were permitted to live and work there prior to being adopted. Taehyung, on the other hand, was created and exploited at a logging plant for his labor. I haven't come up with any other laws within this universe, yet, but we'll see as time goes on if any more pop up 😉 As for the creation of exotic hybrids, in the past, they were seen as flashy companions to the rich. In the present, they're either adopted by elites who wish to hunt for sport, or because of their superior strength compared to, say, a rabbit hybrid, to be workhorses illegally. Third, for circuses/zoos, like Seokjin.

HA okay they were probably all mad confused when Y/N showed up to adopt them... I think distrustful would be a word that comes to mind for Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Taehyung. Seokjin was too weak to properly react, and grieving over the fact that he didn't know what happened to Hannah. Hoseok and Jimin were just relieved to get the fuck out of there LMAO... and Yoongi, we now know already knew Y/N, and was probably hoping she was just there for him. I'm CRYINGGGG you're so right about Jeongguk thinking something like that, like the world they live in, it would make sense for someone to adopt them all to abuse :(

Scenting: Definitely not an inherently sexual act like the boys made it with Y/N 💀 While most of them are oblivious to Y/N's deeper feelings towards them, they can most definitely smell her attraction to them, and I think that's what triggers them to become menaces... As for Daisy, I picture the way her scenting Ben/Roy as childish nips to the wrist, like a toddler biting her dads, essentially. 💜

Even if Hoseok was to become romantic with Alice, he wouldn't scent her. That act is reserved for adoptive guardians! I don't see Y/N ever giving him up, either, nor would Hoseok want to leave his home.

The relationship is like you said, kind of an open relationship sort of situation. It's sort of unconventional, but I think they'll end up making it work 🥺

fdjksafsd good question about Jeongguk and his shirts! He often wears button downs and concert tees with loose collars. I think after years of having those antlers of his, he's learned how to maneuver things like hoodies over them in a specific way. LMAO I know Y/N has that MONEY! I think her family is old money, her maternal grandfather started an unspecified company, and her dad was an innovator of hybrid cardiology surgery.... she was pretty much born into it 💀 Lucky girl!

Their sense of smell and hearing is excellent, but not God-tier! I think behind several closed doors and whatnot they wouldn't be able to hear someone blowing up the toilet, or smell it, even 😭💀

STOP that would be so adorable if you ended up printing Trouvaille out and making it into a book 🥺🥺 It's alright with me as long as I don't see it on Etsy bestie 😘 (also I'm blushing thank you sm I'm honored)

IIIII- me and my best friend talk about how we want to shift into Trouvaille, too. Let me know if you are ever able to do it successfully, bc I want in on that!

Sending you love and thank you for letting me hear your thoughts 💕💕

#trouvaille #asks #dana's thoughts

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 2 years

Text

Hollow moon - Taehyung wolf au Part 2

Ft Jimin who’s appearance nearly messed up the whole plot 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️ 2.6k words of longing and angst

Prev / Next

“Will she be there?” His closest friend asks as Taehyung buttons his dress shirt. The quarterly gala for the local packs was tonight, it was Taehyung's first one as lead alpha. He shrugs in response to Jimin’s question, trying to appear unaffected but his face gives him away.

He always wore his heart on his sleeve, unable to hide it if he wanted to, no matter the circumstance. The quality never affected him before, until he met and was rejected by you, now it was a part of himself he hated. Actually, since the encounter, slowly he was beginning to hate more and more of himself, because this was the body, the man, you rejected. He could feel himself apologise to his wolf a thousand times over, for not being enough for their mate.

“Isn’t that what you want?” you had said to him that night. “The freedom to choose?”

He looks over to his best friend, his platonic soulmate since birth, who shared the same values as you did. Jimin had voiced his disagreement with the moon’s bonding more than once, to the point that the elders of their packs grew weary of the other alpha. The Moon’s choice was absolute, they had no qualms accepting the matter. But Jimin was young when he fell in love with someone who wasn’t his mate, the issues he had with the laws were deep and traumatic… which is why Taehyung was so afraid that you had met someone else before him.

“She reminds me of you,” Taehyung says out of the blue, after his train of thoughts the sentence makes sense to him, but to Jimin it’s another one of his random outbursts. He frowns at the rejected alpha but does not question his words.

“I know you said you would do the same Jimin,” Taehyung says solemnly. “But I just want you to know, for your mate the rejection feels like you’re being shredded apart, like gravity disappears and your soul tries so hard to latch onto something solid it grabs onto everything but tears itself into pieces in desperation for anything to hold onto. I don’t feel here, I just feel lost.”

There’s silence between them as the words hang in the air until Taehyung elaborates further, the blank despondent look on his face makes Jimin feel for this friend.

“Even if I were to hunt all the parts of myself down, I would never find them all, I’ll never be whole again.”

They say nothing as he turns away, both of them ignoring the tear that slipped out of the alpha’s eyes.

—

He tried to swallow down the bitter feeling as he walked through the grand entrance of the estate, the neighbouring packs were hosting this gala, and every eye was turned to the rejected alpha, and behind each gaze was an agenda. It was no secret Taehyung was the most eligible bachelor amongst the packs, and now word had spread that he was mated to the deranged Luna, the opportunity presented itself in their eyes to forgo the Moon’s wishes.

The hypocrisy of these wolves, Jimin thought beside his friend, only obeying the Moon’s wishes when it suits them.

The amount of well wishers that visited him since the day of his rejection were beyond that of sympathy. The business between mates was a private matter, the disrespect towards the bond was thinly veiled as every wolf that arrived brought their daughter or daughters as if to say ‘take your pick’, as if numbers would play into their favour. Jimin had to hand it to Tae for not losing his cool, although at times it seemed he was close to. Instead of taking it out on the suitors and severing valuable ties, he visited Jimin’s pack and vented to the shorter alpha.

He watched now as Taehyung subtly searched around the room with a desperate hope in his eyes, evident to those who knew him, like Jimin did, he was looking for you. Even Jimin scoured their surroundings, but he noticed, you were nowhere to be seen.

“She's not here,” Taehyung absentmindedly breathes as his gaze searches on.

“Maybe she decided against coming,” Jimin suggests but the alpha shakes his head, rejecting the idea.

“I heard that her pack weren’t taking the news too well,” Taehyung sighs in worry for you. “I’ve heard rumours about how they treat her.”

His wolf wants to whine, wants it to rumble out of his chest to call for you.

“Cavemen,” Jimin rebuffs with a scowl. “You’re talking about this very casually,” he notes as he looks up and down at his friend, admiring the fact that despite the rejection he was still behaving as the gentleman he knew. He looks Jimin in the eye with a pressure of intensity behind the gaze that, despite all their years together, he can't decipher.

“I don’t hate her,” he confesses. “I just hurt.”

—

He's here, you feel your wolf stir in the confines of your chest, like the light of your soul started burning again, rousing it from a cold barren sleep.

You bore the whispers and looks of distaste sent your way, took them with your held head high but you wanted a breather, a break from the onslaught of their disapproval. Mates were rejected, it was a rare possibility but it happened, so why were you alienated for it? The passage you walk down is empty, and you’re thankful.

The wolf inside of you grew more and more restless as you begged her to return to her slumber, even if it made you feel empty again, but pleading with her was fruitless when what she wanted was so close yet not within reach. You could feel your being summersault inside your chest repeatedly while you searched for a place of calm, away from judging eyes and the presence that was making your muscles atrophy the more you moved further away.

As you stumbled in your heels, in the unfamiliar estate, the corridors grew darker, but you welcomed it when the distance meant you could no longer hear their taunts and whispers. The air was still, quieter, you were left to your thoughts, only having to fight the voice that begged you to find him. You didn’t give in, instead you walked to the hollow arched window in front of you, a sense of deja vu washing over you.

Light flooded through, sent from the crescent moon illuminating the night sky with a tint of blue. She looked like she was losing herself, like someone had taken a huge chunk out of her being but she still radiated light better than any star. You could deny it all you wanted, but with your gaze on the moon you knew why you were hated for your decision. You were torturing your wolf, and his, the purest parts of yourselves, your souls. It was unforgivable. You knew that, but you had done unforgivable things before and lived to tell the tale.

“I don’t deserve him,” you whispered to the whining wolf inside of you as if it would placate her, closing your eyes as you stubbornly stood by the statement.

“Deserve who?”

You turn to the alpha that crept up on your hiding place, heart pounding from the shock. How did he sneak up on you like that? You inhale through your nose deeply, meeting his amused grin with a confused one of your own. He smelled like- your alpha. Wafts of his scent stuck closely to this stranger. You shake away the thoughts as fast as they come, you didn’t need to wonder about Taehyung, he wasn't yours.

You eye the newcomer carefully, not wanting to trust him just because he brought a familiar scent with his foreign one.

“It’s rude to sneak up on someone,” you chastise him bluntly.

“Deserve Taehyung?” he ignores you, continuing his question, although seemingly talking more to himself than you. His hands are in his pockets as he walks closer to you, not helping the fact he already put you on edge. “Well if you’re anything like me like he seems to think, you probably don’t.”

He lets out a humourless breath of laughter, again more so at himself.

“Look, I don’t know who you are but it’s really none of your business.”

He looks at you then, meeting your steady gaze with a burdened one of his own. His eyes were aged beyond his years, not in wisdom but in scars. He doesn’t seem surprised to see similar ones in yours, different shapes, different stories, but they weighed the same as his.

“I’m not here to convince you to give my best friend a chance,” he scoffs, those heavy eyes never leaving you. “That would make me a hypocrite.”

You stay quiet, cautiously watching his movements, trying to figure him out, trying not to indulge in that stupid faint smell that lingered on him.

“The Moon knows the day I meet my mate I will cut the cord,” he mutters. “After seeing the number it's done on Tae, for their sake I hope we never meet.”

He stands beside you, hands still in his pockets, looking out at the moon the way you were but with such distaste you could feel the hate radiate off him.

“Not that I care anyway,” he admits with a hollow smile. “Whoever they are, I already despise them…”

“I don’t hate Taehyung,” you recoil from the alpha, brows furrowing again at the unsettling feeling his words evoked. “I don’t know him, how can I hate him?”

“How can you be expected to love him?” he scoffs again bitterly, meaning every word. “How can he expect it?”

His statement ran true, echoed everything you had been saying but his tone of voice made you dislike him instantly… Was this how people reacted to you when you preached the same philosophy? But you never said it with such hate to the individual, to your mate, only the ideals.

“It's not his fault,” you mumble to your unwanted mate’s defence. “We grew up with these beliefs instilled in us, and they're not all wrong…”

His eyes snap to your form then in surprise or disgust, you don’t know, ready to argue with you.

“What’s wrong is the expectation to follow them without thought, without choice,” you explained, not letting him interrupt. “Why should the Moon decide whom I belong with? Why can’t that be my choice?”

He doesn’t speak but you hear him swallow down whatever it was he wanted to say. The silence is stifling, you don’t want to stand in it for much longer.

“Excuse me,” you make your leave, going back the way you came and leaving the alpha to ponder to himself in your absence.

Your wolf settles, sitting calmly inside your soul without complaint, as if for once she agreed with your decision, lulling you into a false sense of security. You should have realised she was leading you to a trap.

You catch yourself before you stumble into the figure as you walk through a doorway, the both of you caught in shock on either side of the arch between you.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, caught in his gaze, your wolf inside of you leaping towards him but you hold her back, imprisoning her behind the bones of your ribcage.

His hands are balled into fists beside him, tightening when you called his name, did you realise you were drawing him in? Those eyes staring at him so wide he could see inside your soul, he swore he could hear your wolf whining for him. He was fighting every fibre of his being by not taking the steps he wanted to close the distance. The weight in his chest as it pulled was making him lose his breath, the absence of you since that night made his wolf desperate.

Mate, Luna, Love, could you hear his wolf call out for you in the confines of his soul the way he could hear yours? Trapped in your respective human body unable to reach each other. The thought has Taehyung souring, you can see it on his face as he looks away, he wanted to tell his wolf there was no point in pining, no hope, not when you rejected the bond.

“Are you okay?” You ask, a light whisper despite the heavy guilt burdening your body.

How do you manage to simultaneously break his heart and mend it back together? He was caught in a paradox in your company, empty and full, cold and warm, his body was unsettled as his soul spiralled within it. He manages to nod but it’s a lie, it takes him longer to find his voice, a light awkward atmosphere lingering between you, and yet the silence was so loud.

“I was looking for my friend Jimin,” he explains, avoiding an actual answer to your question, trying to smile, trying to behave like he was fine, not for pride’s sake but because he was afraid. You already saw him at his most vulnerable, he openly bared his soul and it got him hurt, he didn’t want to do it again. He wouldn’t be able to bear it a second time.

He should walk away, he should leave you just as you wanted him to, but he glances over your sunken form. The way your shoulders that were held so high the last time he saw you were slumped and defeated has him speaking before he can stop himself.

“Are you okay?” he repeats your words softly, feeling your pain mirroring inside of him. As hurt as he was, he didn’t want you to be. You were the cause of all his heartache, but he still wouldn’t wish you any sadness.

He can see the surprise in your features at his question for your wellbeing. He knew of the way you were treated in your pack, he wanted to tell you how strong he thought you were for being so resilient against them, for standing up for your beliefs, but he didn’t know how it would sound coming from him.

He can see your eyes glisten in the fire from the torches on the wall, the way it illuminated you to him despite the distance. He itched to stand closer to you, take you in his arms, hold you for a moment. You both needed it, that much was clear, but he would have to wait for you to take the first step. All he could do was extend out his hand and wait.

You glance down at his open palm before looking back up at him questioningly.

“Let’s go somewhere,” despite his earlier conviction he wasn’t going to make himself vulnerable again to your rejection, the look in your eyes compels him to. His wolf inside of him takes over, even if he was putting himself in the firing line, it was instinct to protect you, to make sure you were okay. You could stampede across his chest, and he would let you if it was what you needed.

“I’m no good for you Taehyung,” you whisper, and the way you said his name gripped his heart in a way that made him realise where he lost it, why he was feeling like his chest was so empty in the first place. He left it with you that night, and a part of him didn’t want it back.

Who says? He wanted to challenge but he doesn’t, you didn’t need that right now.

“I’m not trying to convince you of reconsidering,” he says, not needing to elaborate on what, “but I don’t want to be here, and I suspect, neither do you.”

He reaches out to you, and you don’t know what compels you to do so, but you take his hand.

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Taglist: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @mwitsmejk @minswife4life @seagulljk @blaaiissee

#bts au #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts fluff #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #bts werewolf au #wolf!au #taehyung au #taehyung angst #taehyung werewolf #taehyung wolf au #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic #bts writing

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writersrealmbts · 2 years

Text

Not In Love: Habitual Provision

Description: Part 2 of Not In Love. You’re helping Tae and Yoongi house-hunt, which is a very difficult thing. Especially with five kids and a hectic schedule. What surprises await you?

Warnings: None?

Posted: 12/06/2022

Tags: family au, yoongi x taehyung x reader?, hybrid au, Taegi x reader eventually, Kid!Bangtan, Kid Jimin

Fluff with some angst (because I was aiming for fluff so I got angst): 5,427

Author’s Note: This is for my @kerikaaria baby! For her birthday! Again! Yes I know it’s a day early, happy birthday anyway! Also, I have a second post for you, but this was the big one.

Jimin and Hoseok looked up at you with confused expressions.

You shook your head, having no answers for Taehyung’s behavior beyond it being Taehyung.

“I’m telling you, the angels say this is not the place for us.”

“Tae, the angels didn’t tell you that your husband would be furious about you bringing four kids home without asking, so I think the angels aren’t that reliable.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Also, we’re not so great on options, right now.”

You sighed and did another headcount. “Where’s Seokjinnie?”

His head poked up over the kitchen counters.

“Don’t climb onto the counters,” You instructed softly, grateful for his good hearing, waving him back over to the group.

Namjoon was tracing the shapes on the rug.

Jungkook was looking at Taehyung with big eyes from Yoongi’s arms.

Taehyung was gesturing around. “It’s got a bad vibe, hyung! We can’t raise our kids with such a bad vibe.”

“We’re not choosing our home based on a ‘vibe’,” Yoongi said with some exasperation.

Continue reading on Ao3

#taegi #dads!taegi #DAD!YOONGI #dad!taehyung #dad!tae #taehyung x yoongi #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #taegi x reader #kid!jimin #kid!hoseok #kid!seokjin #kid!namjoon #hybrid au #hyrid!hoseok #hybrid!seokjin #hybrid!namjoon #kid!jungkook

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namkooktyddys · 9 months

Text

3. Break Free

Author's P.O.V:

One Day to the Wedding

The enthusiasm had died. You were restless to get married and start a new phase of your life with Taehyung 2 days ago and look at you now.

You didn't feel like a bride at all.

There you were, continuously staring at the ceiling of your room as you were laying on your back. Just how quickly the things took a turn just before your D-Day. Everything was being replayed in your mind from the beginning, the day you and Taehyung met and immediately you fell for the man he was. Never you had thought he would be someone like this.

You went on 8 dates in total in a span of 17 months. Each time he would show up with a present for you, which you had preserved so dearly in your shelf. Your families met each other for 3 times in the same span of time.

This was not a love marriage.

It was rather an arranged marriage where you got convinced that Taehyung is the man of your dreams.

The demons inside your head was not letting you to reach a conclusion. You were constantly thinking about what had happened in the evening.

At the dinner table, you were all quiet while everyone was immersed in the wedding vibe. Ha-Eun was nowhere to be spotted. Tonight, the food was hard to chew, drinks were hard to gulp and the urge to swipe away all the plates on the table was at its peak. The whole time, your eyes were filled with tears, however nobody took a notice of that as your hairs hid your face perfectly. The pain that you were feeling was real. It felt like crying your heart out until you passout. Your body felt heavy looking at the smiles plastered on your parents face, wondering what would happen to those happy faces when they realize the truth.

Would they still force you to get married to a betrayer?

Hence, to confirm this doubt of yours, you pulled your mother to a corner amidst all the hush and rush.

"Ma..."

Your mother nodded at you while her entire attention was at your aunt who'd been drinking ever since she came to your place.

"Ma.. Listen to me."

"Oh yes I am, dear- Y/N? Ahh.. it's okay to feel overwhelmed."

Mrs. Lee wrapped her arms around your figure, engulfing you into a warm hug after she saw your teary eyes. She guessed you were anxious and overwhelmed about the wedding, and separation from your family.

This was your last straw. You broke down in her arms.

"Please call off this wedding."

She chuckled at your words and patted your back lightly.

"I ain't gonna spend my life with a cheater, Ma!"

Mrs. Lee's actions froze. Pulling off from the hug, she looked deep into your eyes hunting for an explanation, which you eventually gave her.

You summarized the entire scene but kept Ha-Eun away from the story. Instead, you lied that Taehyung was making out with a random girl cause no one would believe if you said it was your own sibling who did this to you. All your life, you got accused of being jealous of Ha-Eun so what would be the repercussions of spilling the naked truth?

"Dearie, Taehyung loves you so much and so do you, don't ya? It's better to pretend that event never happened okay? For you, and for us too yeah?"

"Gosh! Why should my life be at stake huh?!"

"Your dad will never agree to call it off you know? It's a wedding that holds the ability to change the trajectory of the fashion industry! Lees and Kims, two massive names are extending their relationships from just business partners. Well, about your life.... Life is full of compromises dear, and you gotta accept that. With the Kims, your future is gonna be secure and comfortable. And Taehyung... He is a good guy. It was just a mistake alright? You will forgive him and you both will lead a happy, successful life yeah?"

"Unbelievable Ma! Never in my wildest dreams I had thought of you being so unaffected!"

Your jaw clenched in anger recalling the conversation but is this how the world is shaped? Cheating on your partner is never a mistake but a choice. The cheater knows it well. They are aware about their wrongdoings yet get caught up in lust that lures them.

Why are you being forced to sacrifice your happiness and compromise, negotiate for the bad? You knew the world was always cruel, but when did it turn heartless, ready to trade anything and anyone for money? Your own blood behaved so indifferent and mean towards you.

All people care about is profit?

Reputation?

Society?

Social status?

Wealth?

This is your life, where you weren't in power. You had zero control over it. The steering of your life was in someone's else's hands and right now, they're driving towards the wrong lane. You thought to yourself, it's time to either continue with the journey, or snatch the steering. This is the time to become brave and bold, take a stand for yourself to save from ruining your future from your own hands. One wrong decision and there lies your emotions for the world to play with. That would be so damn foolish of you.

"'Secure and comfortable' my foot!"

Quickly jumping out of the bed, you picked the cat-shaped backpack purse from your cupboard and shoved a few clothes alongwith all the gifts you'd ever received from Taehyung inside it.

"WHEN I SAY I AIN'T MARRYING THAT BASTARD, I FUCKING MEAN IT."

_______________________________

__________________________

Author's Note:

What are your thoughts on this chapter? Will Y/N manage to escape from Kim?

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therealmintedmango · 2 years

Text

Cerberus - Part Two and a Half

Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual romance/ smut

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit

Words: 900+ (Just kind of a teaser to get me back into writing this story!)

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Dark themes; Possible Yandere Vibes in the future; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Implied Incest (nothing happens - I promise); Mentions of being naked/ being seen naked; I think that’s it.

Tag List: (Please notify me if you wish to be added/ no longer want to be apart of the tag list!) @openup-yourmind , @deeepvibes, @heoniebaby, @xxsunny-side-upxx

Cerberus Playlist (Let me know if you have a good song to add to the playlist and I’ll chuck it in there!

————————

A shot from the nose of a gun rings out in the middle of the wood. The sound is jarring, spooking the horses they ride upon— but, only for a moment. Mid-mornings are for the prince’s to have a moment to themselves, to talk and convene, like their own personal meeting that takes place every day. Just the seven brothers, safe for the horses, the hunting dogs that yelp and yip with glee, and some trusted staff who have loyal tendencies in their sinew and marrow. Small woodland creatures scatter as the pheasants the group were tracking are flushed from their hiding spaces in the thicket.

For they all weren’t blessed to have been birthed under the warm and pregnant harvest full moon like they were.

“Excellent shot, Hoseok.” Taehyung smiles his boxy grin at his elder brother as he directs his horse to be placed next to his.

A trail of hot breath exited the mouth of the third-eldest, whipping and whispering away into the afternoon air. The loudest, most outgoing brother always seems to become lethally quiet when he is focused; eyes trained and nerves unwavering. He would surely be Bangtan’s tactical genius or a general one of these days. Hoseok reloads and fires at the bird with ease, directing one of their staff to go retrieve his fresh slain kill. His wolffish grin is not lost, his brothers echoing his silent, devious smirk as they clap their leather gloves together.

“I feel bad leaving her back at home by herself.” Jungkook turns his head back to the direction of their foreboding estate, his smile faltering.

“Come now, she’s not a child.” Yoongi scoffs, smoothing the hairs on his horse's neck. “She is free to do as she pleases. I see no band on her finger.”

“I know.” Jungkook retorts with a low growl. “Do we think she was being hunted?”

“Who would want to hurt an angel that divine?” Taehyung rumbles, his timbre darkening with the thought.

“She’s awfully frightened.” Jimin says.

“Speak for yourself.” Yoongi grumbled under his breath, but they all heard his remark regardless.

“She might be a liability, hyung.” Namjoon sighs, looking out at the bright horizon of the wood, the sun hanging very high in the pale blue sky. “What if it’s a trap and she is a witch or a demon or worse sent from our friends beyond this world?”

“She is human.” Hoseok sneers, lip curling. “She is human. You can smell the earth and sweat on her flesh.” His eyes flashed a danger deep amber as he shot the last of the flock of game bird.

“Let’s not waste anymore time.” Seokjin asks over the din of the dogs barking in delight and his brothers bickering atop their steads. He raised his brows and they all quieted down at once. “Though she seems harmless and is quite stunning, we have to approach this diplomatically.” The brothers all nod. This was the way it worked here. “I will go down the line in our regular fashion and I want you to tell me if she stays or goes.”

Seokjin’s amber gaze drifted to the second born brother. “Yoongi?”

“Stay.” Yoongi said, almost a little too quickly.

“Hose-“

“Stay.” Hoseok cut him off, nostrils flaring in annoyance. “She is staying.”

Seokjin sighs with a soft smile, directing his question next to the next in the line up. “Namjoon?”

Namjoon pauses, looking down at his leather saddle, weighing his decision heavily. “Goes.”

“Stay.” Jimin did not wait to be called on, his soft smile was endearing, his pale cheeks flushed. From the cold or from the girl, Seokjin could not tell.

“Me too.” Taehyung speaks up, eyes narrowing at his older brother. “Stay.”

“She has to stay, hyung.” Jungkook looks between Namjoon and Seokjin. “She belongs here. With us.”

“My vote is she stays.” Seokjin nods, his rich orbs finding his very intelligent middle brother who looks away. “However, any witchcraft or mysterious activity with her and she is out. She is to be treated with the highest respect like we would a royal guest. I do not want you lot courting her; do not disrespect her or our name in the process of her staying with us. We have to figure out who she is…and why was she in the wood and from our neighbors from the south, no less…” He exhales a breath looking at each of his brothers faces. Their attention was focused solely on him as he says, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Yoongi smirks, his white hair reflecting the bright sun as they make their way back through the forest, their birds and dogs in tow. The meeting was drawing to a close on this fine afternoon.

“Let’s make sure she is comfortable during her stay in Bangtan.” Seokjin smiles, some malice and mirth behind his lush lips and soft tone, his pointed canines glimmering like freshly washed china.

One of their hound dogs lets out a wail of a hound and most of the brothers can help but laugh.

———-

Author’s Notes: I hope y’all listen to the playlist when reading! It’s still a work in progress, so don’t judge it too much! Also, I really want to focus on this story so I’ll be channeling my attention into this story when I’m not at school or at work! Xoxo

———-

PART TWO l PART THREE

#mintedmango #therealmintedmango #bts #jung hoseok #min yoongi #park jimin #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #werewolf #werewolf AU #BTS werewolf #BTS werewolf au #cerberus #BTS Cerberus

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nightswithkookmin · 2 years

Note

I don’t think the announcement from BH denies V-J dating rumours, but seems most Army think it did. What do you think?

I think someone from Hybe is lurking on my blog

If you gonna lurk you might as well just hire me. I mean shit, I'll do shit for free. You don't gotta pay me.

Compare the text of this statement to my post on the hybe/ Taehyung dating situation...

Sus.

I mean, I did say they might be building a case against the perpetrator quietly and that the perpetrator might simply be out of Korea so it complicates matters for them.... I didn't actually think that a thing but sure go for it Hybe. You guys are just pulling shot out of your asses now ain't you😂

The bit they say about "person's inside or outside Korea" is really really interesting to me. They sticking to the theme ain't they? They really committed.

While they might not name names in their legal hunts for menaces, they usually drop hints about whom they are targeting or the issue they are addressing by pointing to the platforms and mediums through which these offensive acts are committed.

HYBE Posts Updates On Legal Actions For Malicious Activities Against Their Artists BTS, SEVENTEEN, TXT, And More

HYBE shared updates on its legal response to malicious commenters and other individuals attacking its artists BTS, SEVENTEEN, TXT, NU’EST, and ENHYPEN.

On December 29, HYBE shared the following statements in English regarding the protection of its artists.

Here is the official statement regarding BTS:

Hello.

This is Big Hit Music.

Our company regularly initiates legal proceedings against perpetrators of malicious activities related to BTS, including defamation, personal attacks, sexual harassment, the spread of groundless information, and ill-intentioned criticism.

We would like to provide an update on these activities.

We have recently filed additional criminal complaints using new information provided by fans as well as collected through our monitoring initiatives.

Our company initiates strong legal action against personal attacks and the spread of groundless information related to BTS.

We are taking every action possible, civil or criminal, especially against YouTube and DC Inside accounts who repeatedly engage in such activities. We have submitted legal complaints against anonymous perpetrators who have engaged in such activities without the use of their real names or nicknames, and we have also filed criminal complaints against those who have been periodically changing their nicknames and their respective accounts by collecting data on the nicknames used and the posts they uploaded through constant and real-time monitoring.

We have taken additional legal action against perpetrators who have continued to engage in malicious activities without remorse even while undergoing investigation for their criminal activities. Additional civil suits for damages were filed against those who were convicted of criminal charges.

Recently, a lawsuit for damages filed against those who were sentenced to criminal fines was ruled in favor of the company, and the ruling was finalized with a total of 9 million won (approximately $7,582) ordered in damages. We will ensure that the damages are compensated in full to send a clear message that those who engage in criminal activities will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law – both criminal and civil – and that they will bear the heavy responsibility of their actions.

We will continue to initiate strict measures to ensure that these malicious acts are not repeated, and our policy of no settlement and no leniency remains in effect. Big Hit Music regularly collects information on malicious postings regarding BTS, reports them to the authorities, and files criminal complaints. We ask that you make continued use of our hotline ([email protected]) to report any cases of abuse.

We are always grateful for the affection and dedication shown by fans of BTS. We will continue to work to ensure that the rights of our artists are fully protected. Thank you.

End quote.

As you can see, the mention of DC inside accounts makes it glaringly obvious what they were investigating and on whose account they were acting.

Similarity where are you. Where art thou

Such responses were also often swift so let's not overlook how long it's taken for them to address this issue.

HYBE WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG????

This is giving nothing. With how long you've taken to respond to this crises one would think you'd come up with something more concrete than vague words and generic legal templates to instill the fear of God in Mother effers.

A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE. Yall never heard that? Come here with receipts of legal undoings. I want damages. I want take downs. I want bankruptcy boots in ass. I want their ancestors to shake in their Graves from the poverty that's finna awake them.

Naa. HYBE DESERVES STITCHES

And Jin's shade. Sirrrrrrrr

What do you mean what did they do😂😂😂😂😂

But like we want to know too. Juseyo. Hybe tell us. What did they do??? Isn't this a bit dramatic over a dating rumor?😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Especially if the images involved are doctored?

Lime just deny it and go we doing too much🤣

I'll intentioned rumor- huh? Bye💀

Let me see what else they have...

Personal attacks.

On brand with haters.

But I don't think saying someone is dating someone is a personal attack or constitutes personal attacks. So that might be addressing all the death threats and criminal promises and unfounded vitriol against BTS, the constant disparaging of the members and coming for them for no freakn reason. I approve this message. Prosecute the shit out of them.

The second issue raised by Hybe is defamation. The spread of groundless information- I think we have covered that extensively and don't need to go over it.

Hybe is going through all this trouble when they coulda just said the rumors are false and call it a day💀💀💀💀💀

I smell wool over army eye but imma give Hybe the benefit of the doubt and assume yet again that they can't say much about this because this is an ongoing investigation.

The statement did what delulu fans have been yearning for all this while- give them a peace of mind. Anything to prove to them that Taehyung is single so they can ship him with Jungkook or Jimin in peace😌

To that I applaud Hybe cos me, I'm not about to stop shipping Vmin I'm sorry😂

I like to picture myself as Tae with JM sometimes 🥴

I lowkey be fucking him vicariously through Tae🥸

These legal updates are routine. A response in a timely manner shud have addressed this aptly and put it to rest by now.

I mean they addressed the breach of privacy in Jungkook's case but I'm not seeing any concerns here. Frankly I think we might all be in denial over this, hybe, me, every one.

HYBE IS BEATING AROUND THE BUSH.

If they want to sue anyone for spreading groundless rumors about BTS dating, they should look no further than their own Fandom.

Jail us all

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daechwitatamic · 2 years

Text

Chapter 15: Other Storms {Reprise} || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary: This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

In which you overhear something you weren't meant to, and find solace in your safe place.

Chapter Warnings: language, drinking, soooooo many feelings like don’t say I didn’t warn you, the angst continues, explicit sex including: unprotected sex (this is fiction, your life is not), penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.5k

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 15: Other Storms {Reprise}

Sunday, March 17th

You wake up before dawn, the light in Taehyung’s room a dim blue.

Taehyung’s room.

Fuck.

You roll to look at him. He’s asleep, peaceful, one arm stretched towards you as he breathes in and out with the slightest whistle. He’s beautiful. You want to press yourself against him again, reassure yourself that he’s real and solid. If you were to reach out and touch him right now, it would probably wake him up a little. He would probably wrap his arms around you, pull you in close, make you feel safe, and loved.

You had woken up feeling happy for the first time in months and now you’re faced with reality so quickly: nothing has changed. Nothing is different now than twenty-four hours ago.

You’re aching, suddenly, the urge to touch him overwhelming. You can't do it; it will only crack your heart open even more.

You're sobbing without warning. It's the kind of crying that you can't control; the sobs crawl up your throat, your ribs heave and shudder, fingers tear at the sheets. You're trying to muffle the gasps and shuddering exhales that escape your open mouth by pressing your face into the mattress. Your eyes squeeze shut and your knees instinctively come up to curl you into a protective fetal position.

Get it together, you think, frantically, even as you gasp against the sudden onslaught of tears, get it together or you’ll wake him up.

You manage to breathe, the tears slowing, and when you're able you lift your face from the mattress, looking at him again. What are your options right now? Wake him up, or wait until he wakes up in the morning? What would happen then? Would he think that sleeping with him meant you wanted to try to get back together? Would he regret giving in, would he go back to being hateful? You can’t decide which would be worse.

Besides, you think, as tears continue to leak from the corners of your eyes, dripping silently down onto the sheets beneath you, what’s different now? Even if he woke up and stayed perfectly neutral and wanted to have a reasonable conversation - a fantasy scenario if you’ve ever had one - what’s different now than when you broke up?

You still think it can only end in pain - isn’t this proof of that, right now? Being together will only hurt you both. You still can’t promise him anything, still can’t agree to be his girlfriend, still can’t get over yourself enough to give him what he deserves.

So what’s the point.

You slide out of the bed and start hunting for your clothes on the ground as quietly as possible. You slide open the drawers of his bureau and take a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie; you’ll send them back to the house with Kiko next time she goes to visit Yoongi. You’ll even wash them first, as an apology. But now you won’t have to walk home, alone, through a frigid March morning, in a dress that your father would have never approved of.

The heels might be a bit of a problem.

You stop in the bathroom and change into the stolen clothes, pulling your hair into a ponytail and using hot water and soap to wash the makeup from under your eyes. When you feel like you look human, if not like a functional human, you head downstairs. You check your phone on the way and find that Bridget had texted you around 2:30 in the morning that she was going back to campus with some girls from school. “Hope ur ok up there,” she wrote.

Your plan is to hang out in the living room until it’s light enough to start walking. But to your surprise, the living room isn’t empty.

You stop dead in your tracks when you see Jimin standing at the front window, his arms crossed. He turns when he hears you on the stairs, and then his face goes stony.

“Taehyung’s not awake?” he asks, his voice deceptively light.

You shake your head. “Still asleep.”

He eyes the bundle of last night’s dress and your high heels that you’re carrying. “You leaving?”

“I was going to wait for it to get a little lighter out,” you say. Your voice sounds fucked up. You’re sure your face is puffy, too.

Jimin takes all of this in silently. You know he’s protective of Taehyung, nearly to a fault. You’re sure there’s a lot he wants to say to you right now.

Carefully, Jimin says, “Don’t you think you owe him a conversation?”

“I can’t do this right now,” you tell him. “I can’t do the lecture. I’m hungover, I’m running on maybe three hours of sleep, and my fucking heart is broken, okay? If you have something to say to me about this, I need you to do it another day.”

You’re already crying again. You want to go home and sleep for thirteen hours so you can function like a person again.

Jimin considers this. “Come on,” he says, reaching for his keys on the hook by the door.

“What?” you utter, completely lost.

“You’re not walking home in those,” he says, nodding at the shoes in your hand. “If you promise me you’ll talk to Taehyung later, when you’re rested, I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you say immediately. “I walked here in them, I can do it again.”

“Y/N,” he says patiently. “It’s like four in the morning. Let me drive you home.”

In the end, you do, sniffling silently in his passenger seat like a fool the whole way to campus.

“I’m sorry,” you finally tell him, as he pulls up in front of your dorm. “I’m not trying to hurt him more. I’m trying not to do that.”

“Just talk to him,” Jimin says. “You promised.”

Inside, you head straight to the shower, letting the hot water wash away last night’s makeup, the smell of alcohol, and the feeling of Taehyung’s hands on your body. You braid your wet hair and change into your own pajamas and climb into bed.

Before you go to sleep, you send -

[4:41 AM] You: Taehyung, I’m so sorry for leaving

[4:41 AM] You: It just felt like the least complicated option

[4:42 AM] You: if you want to talk later… i’m willing

When you wake back up around two in the afternoon, he hasn’t answered.

He never does.

Friday, March 22nd

Bridget comes down with a cold and Kiko’s with Yoongi, so you find yourself on your own for Friday night.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask her as you get dressed to go out. “I can stay in. We could watch movies.”

“I just want to sleep,” she tells you. “Go have fun. Talk to someone. Be nice.”

“I don’t want to be nice,” you pretend to pout.

You decide to go into town and have just a drink and then come home again. That’s the plan, you tell yourself on your ride out to the bar.

You’re a little earlier than the rowdier crowd - which, yes, mostly comes from your campus - so you actually find a seat at the bar, which is a nice change. You’re ordered something you can sip on when you notice a familiar face on the other side. It’s not Taehyung, thank god.

It’s Jungkook. And he looks fucking pissed.

You pick up your drink and head over there without thinking, sliding into the seat next to him.

“Jungkook, hi,” you say, nudging his knee to get his attention. “Are you okay?”

He turns to look at you, brows knitted together. “Hi,” he says flatly.

You’re taken aback by this, but you have a pretty good guess why he’s so worked up. “Did you fight with Tae again?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” But you can tell by the tapping of his foot under his seat, the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw: whatever happened before he got here, he’s mad.

You gesture around the mostly empty bar. “Now’s a good time to talk about it, if you want to. I’m here by myself, too.”

He considers this. Then he says, “Fine, fuck it. I’ve had just enough to drink that I’ll give in. We can be mad at him together!”

You decide not to mention that Taehyung is mad at you, not the other way around.

“He’s such a child. I’m just so fucking tired of having to hide the parts of my life that are a result of the crash,” he says. “I can’t talk about it when my leg hurts. I can’t talk about it when I don’t feel like going to physical therapy after classes. I can’t talk about it when my dance crew wins without me and gets on television. It’s such bullshit.”

“Everyone’s really protective of him,” you agree quietly.

Jungkook makes a noise of frustration. “I get it,” he tells you. “I know he blames himself for everything, and everyone is trying to keep that in check. But I’m allowed to be mad that it happened, and I’m allowed to be mad at the consequences. It doesn’t mean I’m mad at him. I made the choice to get in that car. We all knew the road conditions that night.”

“That’s fair,” you say.

“When Taehyung takes it so personally every time,” he tries to explain, “it keeps the rest of us walking on eggshells and pretending nothing’s wrong when I’m fucking furious.”

“It stops you from processing it, too, to deny it like that,” you say quietly. “That’s not good for anyone.”

Jungkook slumps with relief, like even through his whole tirade, part of him expected you to take Taehyung’s side. And in your own way, you still are.

“Jungkook,” you say gently, “have you ever said this to Taehyung?”

“Of course I have,” he blusters.

“No,” you say. “Not when you’re in the middle of fighting, not when either of you have been drinking, not when you’re worked up or in passing. Have you ever sat down together with him and told him the things you just told me?”

“No,” he mutters.

“I think Taehyung needs to hear you say it,” you say. “That you don’t blame him - that you made your own choices. He probably needs to hear you say that your anger can exist without it meaning you hold anything against him. And he might need to hear it more than once, Jungkook. Imagine if you had been driving that night - would you really forgive yourself?”

He swirls his drink around his glass. His silence answers you for him.

“Cool down - give him time to cool down,” you advise. “Then talk to him. He’s a pretty understanding person.”

Jungkook looks sideways at you. “Yeah, he’s a pretty forgiving person, too, I’ve heard.”

You flush. You liked this better when you weren’t talking about your issues.

“Why are you even helping us, anyway?” he asks as an afterthought. “Aren’t you two not speaking?”

You flop backwards in your seat dramatically. “He’s not speaking to me,” you say. “That’s not the same as ‘we aren’t speaking’.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he points out.

“Because,” you say with a sigh. “That’s what you do for the people you care about.”

Saturday, March 23rd

[10:11 AM] Taehyung: hey

[10:12 AM] Taehyung: apparently i owe you a thank you for talking to Jungkook

You stare at the screen in shock. Then you type quickly.

[10:14 AM] You: omg im so happy he actually talked to you

[10:15 AM] You: are you two all good now? did you work a lot of it out?

Your phone buzzes in your hand - a facetime call. You take a second to remove the goofy-ass smile that takes over your face, trying to look more chill. Your heart is singing in your chest.

“Hey,” he says. “Thanks for picking up. It’s just a lot to type.”

“Sure,” you say. “No problem. So you guys talked it out?”

“Yeah,” he says. It looks like he’s home, in his bed still. “We talked at breakfast this morning. He said a lot of stuff that… I guess I knew, but I think it still needed to come from him, not from the other guys talking for him, you know?”

“That makes sense,” you say.

Taehyung sighs. “Anyway, he told me he ran into you last night and that you told him he should just talk to me about it. So… thanks. Thanks for telling him that - it was the right call.”

“I’m glad he listened,” you say.

“Y/N,” he says, kind of uneasily, and the singing in your chest shuts up fast, “The thing is, I don’t understand why you’re helping us when you clearly still hate me.”

“What do you mean I hate you?” you demand. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“You walked out on me,” he says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “You fucked me and then left me. Do you have any idea how fucking small I felt when I woke up and you weren’t there?”

There it is.

Your heart breaks, as it has again and again since February. You feel like a monster whose only skill is to destroy.

But now you have the chance to make it at least a little right.

“I’m so sorry, Taehyung,” you tell him. You get up, slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing your key-card. You want some privacy for this part. Out in the hallway, which is empty, you say, “I feel like… I feel like I owe you the truth, after everything I’ve put you through. Even if it sucks for me to say it.”

You make your way to the staircase at the end of the hall; everyone on your floor takes the elevator, so you’re guaranteed some privacy here. You sit down on the very top concrete step. Taehyung watches you from your screen, waiting.

You take a deep breath. “I woke up next to you, and I just couldn’t stop crying. Like, I couldn’t get it together, to the point I was scared I’d wake you up,” you admit.

He frowns, but you push on. “I was just laying there looking at you and getting slammed with how much… how much I still feel everything for you, and the knowledge that I still can’t give you what you want - what you deserve. And the guilt, too, that I had hurt you - that no matter what I did right then, even if I stayed until you woke up - I would just hurt you more.”

Taehyung is silent, eyes steady on you, just listening.

“I couldn’t calm down,” you explain. “I needed to…. I needed to not be laying next to you, you know? I couldn’t do it, it hurt too bad. I’m sorry - I’m so sorry I hurt you again. If you want me to leave you alone, I will, if that’s how I can prove I won’t do it again.”

Your eyes are full again, and you think Taehyung’s blinking an awful lot too, but you don’t call him out on it. “I’m sorry,” you repeat weakly. It’s all you have to offer.

“Okay,” he says finally, voice a little tight. “Thanks for the explanation, I guess. And thanks for talking to Jungkook.”

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, but somehow it still feels like I’m sorry as it comes off your tongue.

Saturday, April 14th

You don’t hear from Taehyung again over the next two weeks. You go to class, you go to tutoring, you go out with Bridget when she asks. It all seems rather rote.

When she asks you and Kiko to go with her to a party in the Suites - apartment-style dorms with kitchenettes, exclusively for seniors - you actually don’t argue. Part of you hopes you will see Taehyung there. Your last conversation left you hopeful that maybe you could coexist on campus without any ugliness.

You don’t let yourself hope for a single thing more.

Upon arriving, sometime before midnight, a quick scan of the kitchen and living room space tells you that no one is here that you even recognize. You let Bridget lead you into one of the three bedrooms, where you join a drinking game called Thumper. It’s a funny game, meant to be silly, so when you make your way back to the kitchen for another beer after three rounds, you’ve still got a smile on your face, a remnant of laughter not yet melted away.

It’s gotten a lot busier since you girls arrived, and people come in and out of the adjoining bedrooms in groups and clusters. You pause by a group of girls you know, and get pulled into their conversation - some drama with their neighbors down the hall. You’re standing there when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Still listening to the girl speaking, you slip it out of your pocket and glance at it. It’s not a text - it’s a notification from your weather app.

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Is it supposed to storm? I just got an alert.”

“Yeah,” one of the girls tells you. “We’re supposed to have some bad storms roll through tonight. My parents’ house actually has a tornado watch.”

“Shit,” you murmur, putting your phone away. That’s when you see Taehyung, on the couch next to his friend Namjoon. They’re playing a video game, and Taehyung is holding a beer between his knees while his hands work the controller. He notices you too, and when you make eye contact, he gives you a friendly nod.

Coexistence.

You head back in to find Bridget and Kiko. They’re sitting next to each other on the end of someone’s bed, so you join them. Someone is telling the story of an unpleasant email exchange they had with their Professor over a missing assignment, and you lean against Kiko’s shoulder, listening.

Beside you, Kiko glances at her phone and tries to shrug out from under you. “I think I’m gonna go…” she murmurs.

You frown at her, exaggerated. “Are you leaving us?” you cry, pretending to be devastated. “For Yoongi?”

“Obviously,” she teases, standing.

“Unacceptable,” you tell her. She’s starting to head towards the kitchen, which has the door to the hallway, so you follow her, intent on annoying her until she’s completely out of your sight. As you two pass through the doorway back into the kitchen, you hear a voice you recognize. You freeze on instinct, and Kiko pauses beside you.

Taehyung’s back is to you and beyond him, facing you, is Davis.

“Heard you finally dumped Y/N,” Davis is saying to him. You feel your entire body go hot and cold at the same time, your pulse suddenly roaring in your ears. You can’t feel your feet. You aren’t sure they’re still there. You feel like time has frozen, like no one else is in the room, as he continues speaking. “Congrats, bro. She’s a good lay, but beyond that, she’s just not worth it.”

Davis meets your eyes then, over Taehyung’s shoulder. His face gives you nothing - no remorse, no embarrassment, not even a flicker of surprise.

She’s just not worth it.

You’re moving without making the decision to move, pushing past everyone in the kitchen and flying through the front door. There’s a cacophony of noise behind you as the door slams shut, but you ignore it, heading for the stairs at the end of the hall. You can’t even hold still long enough to wait for an elevator.

Your feet are moving, but your mind is blank.

Just not worth it.

The night presses in around you as you walk. The clouds hang low and heavy, but you don’t notice them at all. You don’t make a decision on where to go or what to do, but somehow you find yourself on the paved trail that leads to your spot. You don’t care that it’s night, you don’t care that it’s threatening to rain, you don’t care that the trails are technically closed.

Not worth it.

As you make the left to leave the paved path and onto the dirt walking trails, stepping over the barrier that gets locked at night, your phone is buzzing incessantly in your pocket. You glance at the screen - you’ve got missed calls and texts from both Kiko and Bridget, texts from two of the girls you’d been talking to earlier that night, and four missed calls from Taehyung.

[1:22 AM] Kiko✌️: where did you go?????

[1:22 AM] Kiko✌️: are you okay

[1:25 AM] Kiko✌️: pls answer us, we’ll sit with u

[1:23 AM] Briiiiig: baaaabe holy shit!!!!!

[1:26 AM] Briiiiig: kiks and i r looking 4 u where r u??

[1:31 AM] Maria: Y/N are you okay?? Did you get hurt?

[1:44 AM] Ava: Campo are looking for Taehyung so if u see him tell him to stay off campus

You put your phone away without answering any of them. You barely register what they say.

She’s just not worth it.

This is the truth, and someone finally said it.

Your phone buzzes again - Kiko, calling - and you turn it off. You sit on your bench, legs bouncing with adrenaline, your face in your hands. The wind blows strongly around you, shaking the branches of the trees above you, the tall grass of the shoreline, making the pond slosh with waves. Far in the distance, there’s a rumble of thunder, so faint it might just be a truck passing on the road.

This is the truth you’d been toying with, something you were afraid to give credence to. You are leaveable. You’re not worth - any of it: not worth staying for, not worth sacrificing for, not worth fighting for, not worth loving.

You know it, Davis knows it, and he made sure Taehyung knew it too.

That hurts; you’ve already done so much to push Taehyung away, you’ve already hurt him more than once. You kept him at a distance so he’d never see it himself, but Davis took care of it for you. Now Taehyung will know, despite all your efforts: you’re not worth it.

You hear two things at once - thunder, closer, insistent. And your name being shouted, further down the path, the way you came from.

You turn, and a figure forms out of the darkness. Who the fuck would even know to look for you here? You hear your name again, closer, and this time you recognize the voice.

Taehyung approaches you, lit by his phone’s flashlight. He turns it off and lets his eyes adjust, seeming relieved to have found you. He’s a little out of breath. You just look at him. You don’t even feel happy to see him, or hopeful, or anything. You just feel empty.

He reaches out a hand wordlessly and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. He uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears under your eyes, then the palms of his hands to dry the tracks left on your cheeks.

“Don’t cry over him,” he says gruffly. “He’s a fucking piece of shit, he’s not worth it.”

“It’s not about him,” you try to say, but your voice cracks pathetically. You take a shuddering breath, but it doesn’t help at all. “It’s the fact that he’s right.”

“Are you kidding me?” He sounds pissed. You look up at him, surprised. It’s the first thing you’ve felt since you left the party. “You? Not worth it?” He stops, shakes his head. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I live with Jungkook.”

You can’t laugh. Part of you wants to, but you just aren’t there yet.

“How did you know to come here?” you ask. Taehyung takes your hand and pulls you after him, starting to head back up the trail.

“You said it’s your thinking spot,” he reminds you. Above you, there’s a flash of lightning. “We’d better hurry,” he warns you, and you both hustle a little faster towards the end of the trail, where he must have parked his car.

You get to the car before the first raindrops fall, hitting the windshield with fat plops, before the deluge starts. While Taehyung drives, you turn your phone back on. You answer Bridget and Kiko with, “I’m with Taehyung.” That’s all they need to know; they’ll know you’re safe, with him.

You don’t answer anyone else.

Taehyung’s energy changes noticeably as he drives. He taps the steering wheel anxiously, and the energy between you feels anxious, too.

“Taehyung?” you ask gently. “You okay?”

He looks at you, then back at the road. He doesn’t look like he’s okay, suddenly. He looks scared.

“I guess I better just tell you,” he says, deflating. “You’re going to find out anyway.”

Your belly squiggles with anxiety. “What?” you ask. “What happened?”

He sighs heavily. “I… sort of hit him.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

He presses his lips tight together. He looks like he’s dripping in shame, like a dog who got caught thieving from a garbage can. “I might have punched him in the mouth.”

“Oh, my god,” you say. You can’t think of anything else to say. “Taehyung!”

“I know!” he cries. “I know. It was just a reaction, I didn’t think. He said that shit and I just saw red.”

You don’t know how to react to this. “Taehyung,” you whisper. “That’s really nice.”

He turns to you, grinning, his whole demeanor changing. “It was nice of me to try and dislocate your ex-boyfriend’s jaw?”

Now, you do laugh. “It was nice of you to defend my honor. I feel like I should swoon or something.”

The rain is coming down hard, the windshield wipers on full speed. “Come back to the house?” he asks. “So I don’t have to drive out to campus and then back in this? You can sleep in my room - I’ll take a couch.”

You look over at him. You can’t believe he punched Davis. Violence is never the answer and all that shit but damn, you wish you had stayed long enough to see that.

“I’ll go back to the house with you,” you tell him quietly. “We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements once we get there.”

Back in his room, in the familiar blue-tinted darkness, he faces you silently. You don't know who moves first- him, or you.

It doesn't matter. He presses a palm to your cheek so lightly it's barely there. You take his hand in yours, peel it away from your face. In the dark, in the silence, you press your lips gingerly against each bruised knuckle, one by one.

You press your lips to each new piece of bare skin that becomes available to you; his collarbone, his ribs, the inside of his wrist, anywhere you can find. He kisses you like he did the first time - slow, purposeful, his hands both in your hair.

When he sinks into you, you inhale a sharp breath, but it’s drowned out by the rumble of thunder. He fucks you slowly, eyes on your face as the room goes impossibly bright with flashes of lightning before leaving you both blind in the dark again. You keep your hands on his back, feeling every flexing muscle as you move together, as you meet his every stroke, as rain lashes at the windows like it wants inside.

It’s intense - the howling wind of the storm, the swell of love you know you’re feeling, your joy at being with him, touching him, holding him again. You lean up to kiss him, a hand on the back of his neck, and you try to tell him everything you can. You think he’s telling you some things, too - in his kiss, in his fingers ghosting along your face, in the way he shelters you between his arms.

As you fall asleep tangled together, the thunder above the house sounds like God is speaking a long-forgotten language; syllable after syllable rolls through the sky, the meaning lost on the likes of man.

This time, you stay until morning. You stay until the sun comes up, bringing light to clear skies and Taehyung’s sleepy smile when he realizes you’re there.

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Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reply, dm, ask, or reblog!

Huge thank you to Pauli for screaming about the thunder line with me bc it's my fucking fave and also for beta-ing!

#taehyung x reader #dailydaegu #taehyung smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #s2l #taehyung angst #college au #f2l #bts fanfic #bts fic #fic: what was hidden #bts x reader

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