#taehyung vampire

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: 21.4k+ Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite 10 years of living in Harlem. Her world begins to shift, and she starts to lose sight of dreams and reality, and at the center of it all is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of deja vu, but she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), main character (somewhat) death (graphic), graphic violence, reader slowly losing her mind, heavy religious themes in a large chunk of this, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, hard dom Hoseok, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, blood play, blood drinking, begging for life, extreme emotional manipulation, growling, over stimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), DARK ENDING, dubious consent (mind control/mood control/literally cannot leave Hoseok's presence), reader is severely mentally ill by the end of this, demonic possession, Stockholm syndrome, this is not a cute demon romance, read at your own risk, stopping here since there’s a lot just let me know if I missed anything A/N: After posting a teaser for this fic two years ago, I finally got around to finishing it! I’m still working on my smut skills, so I apologize in advance, but I hope you can get down with my favorite (and extremely evil) demon man. Happy Halloween (or, to my fellow Pagans, Happy Samhain)!

Prologue || Listen to the Playlist || Cross posted on AO3: here

Nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

July 1997

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, pulling open another box. Unpacking was always the worst part of moving, like some cosmic joke designed to break you down piece by piece. Plates stared back at me from the box, and I clenched my jaw. The one on top was chipped—another thing on my growing list of replacements. I pulled it out and set it aside, determined to deal with it later. The rest of the plates went away in the cabinet. The broken one would be tossed.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Mom died. I'm everywhere."

My brother's hum of acknowledgment was all I heard. Miles had always been a quiet, distant sort, barely speaking to our parents. Their deaths hit him hard, but more so with Dad than Mom. Dad had been the stable one, while Mom was a relentless storm—never satisfied, constantly pushing, always demanding. To her, a doctor and a lawyer weren't enough. Miles had always seen her as aggressive, unyielding, and ever discontented. And Dad? Well, his complacency had its own way of grating.

Miles had moved to Oregon right after graduating from FSU, never looking back. We'd made the trek to see him a few times, but he'd never returned the favor. My stint in New York had mended our relationship somewhat. He visited frequently and spent his summers with me, and after Dad passed, he made a point to see Mom at least once a year. I didn't mind the trips to Portland; my Jacksonville home had become his family's vacation spot.

"So am I," he said, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue.

They'd been at each other's throats, arguing constantly, with his wife loathing Mom. Yet, I knew Miles held some affection for her despite their tumultuous relationship. He'd never truly made her proud, and that haunted him. I understood, but when I moved back home, the dynamics shifted. Mom used me as a weapon against Miles, making me the favored child, the one who came back. Miles was the ungrateful one who'd married the wrong woman.

Mom always blamed Trinity for Miles' "bad attitude." Dad knew better. I knew better.

"So," Miles shifted gears, "when can we come and visit?"

I smiled, "I'll be out there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So maybe next summer?"

"That's a long wait."

I chuckled, "Well, Rory starts school this year and Trinity's pregnant. You're just as busy as I am."

I'd been the one with the most on my plate for years. Mom, a real estate agent, rarely left home, while Dad ran a plumbing company. When Miles went to college, I was knee-deep in medical school applications. During my residency, Miles was grinding through law school. When I moved back to Florida, I was buried in ICU shifts while he graduated and started his own practice. He met Trinity, and the two became inseparable. Mom despised her, but I saw how they brought out the best in each other. My career-driven life had left me disconnected, and while Mom reveled in it, I resented it.

Kids changed everything for them. Aurora was their miracle baby. Trinity had struggled with fertility for years, and when they finally had a child, it was as if their world had transformed. My brother was spent, and Mom's resentment boiled over. She was always bitter that they hadn't uprooted their lives back to Florida for the grandchild. By then, Miles didn't care. He'd made the trips for Dad but after Mom's cruel comments about Trinity's weight and their daughter being "too pretty" to be her granddaughter, Aurora never set foot in the family home again.

"Aurora is driving me crazy," Miles groaned. "She won't stop talking about the baby."

"As a big sister, I can tell you she's just being a normal kid."

"I know that," I could almost hear his eye roll. "I'm just worried. It's still early, and I don't want her hopes to get too high. Trinity's scared of another miscarriage."

It would be her sixth.

"Try to stay positive, bub," I bit my lip, surveying the cluttered room. I'd never finish today. "If it happens, it happens. But don't go into it expecting the worst."

"Between Mom and this…" He trailed off.

I understood his fear. Trinity was a few years older than me, and her anxiety was palpable. At 38, any pregnancy brought its own set of worries. Last I heard, Trinity was considering getting her tubes tied if this one didn't make it. The heartache was becoming unbearable.

"Hey," I kept my tone gentle, knowing that riling him up wouldn't help. "Keep your head up. Her next appointment is soon. Ensure she's sticking to bedrest, and you'll be fine."

"What if it happens again?"

My heart broke for him. Miles had always been the rock, the one who seemed unshakeable. Seeing him this vulnerable starkly contrasted with the angry kid he'd been in high school. Mom had pushed his buttons mercilessly, and I had vague memories of our squabbles, but they paled compared to the constant battles he faced with her.

I wondered if he ever grasped how I felt. He always thought Mom liked me more, but it was more about her being able to overlook me. While he fought for her attention, nothing I did ever really mattered. It was like a fog followed me, obscuring me from their view. Sometimes, it would lift, and Mom would acknowledge me, but then it would return, and I was forgotten.

"You'll get through it," I assured him.

We chatted a bit more. Aurora was excited about kindergarten and had picked out new uniforms. She was obsessed with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and her new backpack reflected that. She'd even given her Prince Wednesday stuffed animal to the baby. It was everyday family life, but the emptiness in my chest grew. I longed for laughter and the innocent joy of children in my home.

"Trinity's calling me," Miles said, his voice muffled by distance.

"I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too, sissy."

I smiled faintly, "Later."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I glanced around the room, eyes narrowing at the boxes that seemed to taunt me with their mere existence. All of them were my own—mainly books, a few other odds and ends. The sadness that gripped me was relentless. I'd always had the most demanding job, the tightest schedule, and the deepest insecurities. Miles was angry, and I was desperate to be seen, so much so that I followed every command without question. Now, here I was, alone, surrounded by regret.

Dating felt like a cruel joke. My time in New York had alienated me more than anything else. That fog of invisibility from my childhood had returned with a vengeance. Coworkers would barely look at me for over a second; people on the street seemed oblivious to my presence and dates. They always ended badly. They weren't evil men but would forget my name within seconds. It felt like I wasn't real, like I existed on some other plane.

The only person who seemed to remember I existed anymore was my brother and his family. Dad's Alzheimer's had robbed him of any memory of us before he passed. Mom, too incoherent at Hospice, never stayed awake long enough to acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, it felt like Miles would momentarily forget me, only for my name to pop into his mind at predictable intervals—like clockwork, only calling on specific days and times, usually if he was planning a trip. It upset me more than I could recall, but now I wondered why.

"This place won't unpack itself," I muttered aloud.

I'd talked to myself so much it felt almost normal. I knew I needed to make friends, that without connections, I'd end up as lonely as my father, but the idea seemed futile. No one saw me clearly. No one ever had. When I searched my memories for anyone who had seen me, I came up empty. No one had ever really seen me. No one ever would. Instinctively, I knew this despite the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. I had a job, a family, a house. I wasn't haunted. Or… maybe I was just being childish. I was simply forgettable, unremarkable. This I knew.

"I exist," I whispered, the words reverberating loudly in the stillness of my apartment.

The silence that pervaded my life mocked me with its omnipresence.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?"

"It's a lounge, sha," came a voice behind me.

What a peculiar dream. I took a bite of my sandwich, returning to the rude awakening that morning. I rarely remembered my dreams, if I had them at all. But last night had been different. I'd found myself in a dimly lit room with a man I couldn't recall clearly, dressed in white and speaking with an accent I couldn't place. I woke up before anything significant happened. The dream had been woefully uneventful.

The floor was almost eerily quiet tonight. Aside from the constant beeps and monitors scattered around and George Gilmore in room 11 watching football, no one spoke. The nurses here seemed less lively than I was accustomed to, their faces vacant, their words few. I kept to my small office most of the night, avoiding their station.

We'd had one death so far—a patient with a DNR who suffered a stroke shortly after midnight. Another woman had been pronounced brain-dead an hour ago. We'd wait until tomorrow to pull the plug, so her daughter could say goodbye. I didn't count her in my tally. The night crew had a way of seeing me even less than the others, and I didn't like them much.

"Hello, Doctor."

I jumped, startled. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. My irritation took me by surprise. I wasn't typically agitated; my feelings were either muted or overwhelming. He pushed his hair back, revealing messy chocolate brown locks, and held a clipboard stained with dubious marks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly under my gaze. I was already weary of his presence. "I was told you were new and thought I should introduce myself before leaving for the night. I'm Damon Glass, one of the anesthesiologists."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I replied, my voice flat and uninviting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled, showing a gap between his front teeth that reminded me of my father's. It was a rare sight among people my age. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me. Dr. Whitlock is on the floor, and I believe Morgan Fletcher is on call."

I nodded, appreciating the information but ready for him to leave. My distaste had faded, but I preferred brevity in conversations, especially with outsiders. I disliked the feeling of interacting with them. It was why I preferred dealing with the nearly dead; they rarely spoke, and when they did, I knew they'd be too medicated to remember much. The families were more accessible to handle than the ones back in Florida.

It was odd how my thoughts could veer into such morbid territories. Almost as morbid as my enjoyment of overseeing dying patients. It was not as macabre as my unbidden glee at my mother's death alongside my brother, but it ranked high on my list of flaws.

"Have a good night," I said, returning to my computer to refresh my emails.

Dr. Glass seemed to take the hint, leaving with an awkward smile and wave.

August 1997

I stood outside the door, the muffled sounds of grief seeping through the walls like a relentless, jagged current. The family's sorrow was palpable, a heavy fog that followed me down the hallway. I hoped to catch them in a better moment, but the cruel truth of this place was that better moments were rare. With a resigned breath, I raised my hand and knocked. The room fell silent, and a strained voice called out, allowing me to enter.

Elizabeth Fraiser had lived a life filled with grace and elegance. Once a dancer whose feet had carried her across Europe's stages, she met her husband in Paris and married him there. They had settled in New York, where her days of ballet had given way to a quieter role as a ballet instructor in Jersey. She had raised a family, and her pride in her children was as evident as her passion for dance. She spoke of them with a joy that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of my own mother's words.

Now, Elizabeth was in the late stages of lung cancer. Her family had clung to the hope of letting her pass away at home, but the relentless pneumonia and ceaseless pain had pushed them to make the difficult decision to admit her here. Her condition had worsened sharply today, and her family was struggling to cope with the harsh reality.

"Good afternoon," I said softly, a gentle murmur in the oppressive silence.

"Nice to see you," Elizabeth's oldest son, Elijah, managed a weak smile. We both knew he wasn't fond of doctors, but he tolerated me because I didn't overstay my welcome. "Mom's been sleeping for a while."

I stifled a sigh. Her body was crumbling, and delivering bad news was never easy. The small comfort was knowing she would soon feel nothing at all. We planned to increase her morphine dosage and withdraw all other medications. Her family would need to agree, but I wasn't too concerned. Mary, her daughter, had debated extending her mother's life with her brothers.

"We're really at the end, aren't we?" Mary's voice was strained, her husband's arm around her for support. Among them, she was the calmest, but the edges of her composure were frayed. Her eyes were red, testimony to her unrelenting tears. "Will she be in pain?"

I explained our focus on alleviating her suffering. She would be less coherent in the coming days but occasionally rouse enough to interact with them between doses. We aimed to ensure she had the utmost comfort and relief in her final days. The youngest Percy took the news hardest and had to excuse himself. I held Mary's hand, appreciating the warmth of human connection. I prided myself on my bedside manner.

"I know home care wasn't ideal for you," I broached delicately, aware of their crowded lives and young children. "But I'm offering it as an option. Respite care is also available, though I understand it was stressful before. It's worth discussing."

Elijah shook his head firmly. Mary hesitated, but her husband's reminder to care for herself and their baby swayed her. Percy's wife raised concerns about her own health, cementing the decision. Elizabeth would remain with us in her final days. It was probably for the best—she was too frail and in too much agony without constant medication.

"Let me know if you need anything," I said, glancing at the family. The nurses are always available, and I'm on call until six. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mom needs a bath," Percy reentered the room. A nurse had come by earlier, asking if we were ready to step out. Let them know they could come in."

The rest of my shift dragged on. Other families were terse and uncommunicative, and their responses were minimal. I understood their grief, but it did little to ease my weary spirit. The nurses seemed as disinterested in me as ever. I had long since given up trying to connect with them.

The air outside was crisp, almost biting. I walked to the subway, the city traffic too maddening to endure. I'd trade bumper-to-bumper frustration for the quirks of the subway any day. Last week, a man in a bunny costume rapped at six in the morning. The week before, a man argued with his reflection in the window. Last night, an elderly woman beside me commented on my disheveled appearance, lamenting that men didn't like that and worrying I'd die alone. I barely remember if I responded. I hated talking on the subway; her parting insult had stung me.

Tonight promised to be different. I left the hospital later than usual, after two code blues and an injury report for a nurse. Overdue paperwork and an insurance squabble later, it was past eight when I left. My walk was short, and the wait at the terminal was OK, but the train didn't arrive until 9:30. When I finally boarded, the car was almost empty.

Then a group of men entered. They were rowdy, pushing each other, their drunkenness a stifling cloud. I almost moved when they sat too close, but I didn't want to draw attention. I could feel their eyes on me. I clutched my bag tightly, fingers brushing the can of pepper spray hooked to its strap. I was almost home. Just three more stops.

"Hey," one of the men called out. I ignored him. "Hey, you."

I hated the subway.

"Leave her alone."

That voice caught my attention. I knew it—or thought I did. When I looked up, I was met with a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly familiar. He was striking, with tanned skin and sharp features that made his brown eyes stand out under the harsh fluorescent lights. He took the seat beside mine, and I didn't stop him. The men were back to their raucous laughter, and I was forgotten. I relaxed slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Sorry about them," he said, his warm and soothing voice a gentle tenor that evoked a sense of nostalgia. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Something about him tugged at the edges of my memory, yet he wasn't a celebrity, and I was sure I'd never met him before. Perhaps we'd crossed paths on the subway? My brain was playing tricks on me.

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

Despite myself, I stole glances at him. I had to remind myself to breathe when I ventured past his neck. He was slender, but there was a subtle strength beneath his clothes. If he noticed my scrutiny, he said nothing. He returned to his book, but I was convinced that his eyes were still on me when I finally looked away.

I jolted awake, my body wracked with shivers despite the suffocating warmth of the blanket. The room was deathly silent, save for the moonlight streaming through the window like a spotlight on a stage set for a performance I never auditioned for. I rolled over, trying to bury myself deeper into the cocoon of my blanket, but then I heard it—a voice, soft and faint, yet carrying an unsettling authority.

“Oh, Y/N,” the voice crooned, dripping with a sinister allure. “It’s time. Come to me.”

Confusion and dread clawed at my insides as I stumbled out of bed. The room was a far cry from my own—stone walls, thick and oppressive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent glee. The floor beneath my feet was icy, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. My nightgown, white and delicate, felt like a mockery in this alien environment.

This wasn’t my room.

The voice came again, seductive and commanding. “Y/N, come out, come out, now. I’m waiting for you.”

Compelled, I moved to the window. Below, in the moonlit expanse of the lawn, stood the man from the subway. His face was eerily illuminated, his head tilted back as if inviting me to join him in the darkness below. His eyes—glowing a brilliant gold—seemed to reach out to me, promising unspeakable things if only I would take the leap.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He raised a hand, crooking a finger in a silent invitation. It was as if an invisible thread was pulling me toward him. Entranced, my feet moved on their own accord. Barefoot, the cold stone beneath me was a cruel contrast to the warmth I’d just left behind. I wandered through hallways and passages that felt simultaneously foreign and intimately known, descending into the shadows where he waited.

As I emerged onto the lawn, his smile made me shiver. He approached, his fingers brushing the side of my face—teasing, tantalizing, yet never quite touching.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “So very long. And now, now you’re mine.”

A fragment of my mind screamed in protest, shouting that I didn’t belong to him, that I didn’t even know who he was or why I was here. But a deeper, more primal force tugged at me, pulling me closer until I was nearly touching him. His presence was unsettlingly soothing, and I took a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze.

“That’s right, my lamb, come closer,” he coaxed.

An overwhelming longing surged through me—irrational, illogical, yet so profound that I couldn’t resist. I needed him to touch me, to make the connection complete. I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to the moonlight.

He responded immediately, his fingers trailing along my throat, their cool touch sending shivers through me. I gasped, my body lighting up with each delicate brush.

“More,” I heard myself plead, pressing closer.

“Say it,” he demanded, his arms enveloping me in a possessive embrace. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours.”

He cradled my head in his hand, leaning in. His lips were smooth against my skin, but his teeth were sharp as they pierced through flesh. I screamed as he drank deeply.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, my hands clutching at my throat, searching for any sign of injury. The skin was intact, unbroken. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart that felt as though it might burst from my chest.

The lamp flickered on with a click, casting a harsh, unwelcome light that made me squint and shield my eyes. Grabbing my robe and a cup, I shuffled out of the room, the chill of the hallway hitting me like a slap. I closed the door quietly behind me, trying not to disturb the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The bathroom, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow, was as deserted as I’d hoped.

I filled my cup halfway with water from one of the sinks, then leaned against the cold, sterile tiles, watching my reflection in the mirror as I took slow, deliberate sips. The dream—the one that had shaken me awake—felt so unnervingly real.

I traced the line of my neck with trembling fingers, the blue vein just beneath the surface. What kind of twisted message was my mind trying to send me with that nightmare? It had been a full-on gothic horror—a relic of some crumbling English manor, not the kind of place I ever imagined myself visiting, unless I was buried in a pile of classic literature.

And him. The monster. Even now, as I closed my eyes, I could still see his face—a blend of dark allure and cruel beauty. His eyes, oh, those eyes. They’d held me in thrall, made me willing to surrender to any demand he made. I could almost feel his cold touch, see his smile that promised both ecstasy and agony.

Wasn’t the whole vampire-mother-stuff supposed to be a metaphor for sex? Maybe that’s what my subconscious was trying to shove in my face—sex, or the glaring void where it should have been in my life.

I studied my flushed reflection, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to shake off the nightmare’s grip.

The man sat next to me again. It had been a week since I last saw him, and my body still reacted to his presence. Today, I admired his chiseled jawline and elongated face. He was an exquisite oval with a strong profile. This time, he caught me looking and smiled shyly.

"I'm Hoseok."

The name sent a shiver, stirring something familiar and unsettling. I quickly brushed off the uneasy feeling. It was probably my own insecurity.

"Y/N," I replied, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He resumed reading, and I focused on crocheting a stuffed rabbit for my nephew. Miles had called that morning to update me on Trinity's appointment. The toy wasn't perfect—far from it—but I wanted to give it a try.

"How would you feel about dinner?" Hoseok's voice broke through my thoughts.

I paused my knitting. "I enjoy dinner. Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that made me blush. "Cheeky."

I bit my lip, unsure if it was a compliment. I felt a pang of embarrassment, struggling to maintain my composure. The first date I'd been asked on since undergrad, and I was fumbling. Miles would have a field day.

"Would you like dinner with me?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Hoseok's laughter resonated deeply within me, and I felt a jolt of warmth as he slid closer, his knee brushing against mine. He was impossibly warm. Instinctively, I shifted away, uncomfortable with his proximity. There was something off about him, an unsettling vibe that I couldn't quite place.

But then he smiled, and that soft, disarming grin evaporated all my doubts. He was dazzling. My eyes fluttered shut as his cologne enveloped me, weakening my knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. He was captivating.

"Do you like Italian?" he asked, his voice deeper now.

I nodded, struggling to steady my breath. Panic and embarrassment churned within me, but I couldn't ignore the physical response. My mind was flooded with inappropriate thoughts of Hoseok, vivid and intrusive. I gasped, feeling a flush of heat I hadn't experienced in a long time. 

"Does two weeks work?"

Snapping out of my daze, I looked at Hoseok and nodded. 

"I'm off on the 27th."

He smiled, and I stared at his teeth longer than necessary. They seemed different—sharper, perhaps, with redder gums. I blinked, reassured that they were just as I remembered. My sleep deprivation must be getting to me.

"Meet you here?"

We agreed to meet at six. I'd catch the 5:30 train to ensure I arrived before him. As the subway pulled into my stop, I waved goodbye and stepped out, only to realize I hadn't asked him where we were going. The thought lingered until the following day.

The voice is louder now, sharper, as if it’s cutting through the fog of my half-sleep. “Y/N? I’m waiting for you. Come to me now.”

I hear it, feel the tug of it dragging me towards him, but fear clamps down on me like a vice. My bare feet are numb on the cold, wet grass as I stumble through the twisting maze of hedges, trying to escape the invisible force that pulls me like iron to a magnet.

My breath hitches, coming fast and uneven, as I sprint around corners, the long white gown tangling around my legs and tripping me up. I’m not sure anymore if I’m searching for a way out or if I’m trying to find him.

I turn another corner, my ankle twists and pain shoots through my leg as I crash into an open space—a small, white fountain sits in the middle, surrounded by benches.

Through the flickering light of the moon dancing on the water, I see him. Not a figment of my imagination, but there he is, standing as he promised, waiting.

Hoseok walks towards me with a slow, deliberate grace. He bends, lifting me effortlessly from the mess of my tangled gown and into his arms. I feel a peculiar sense of completeness as he sits on a bench, cradling me like a precious artifact.

“Were you bringing me your gift? Or were you trying to run from me?” His voice is soft, almost tender, and yet it cuts through me. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes. I’m lost, adrift in confusion.

I’m mesmerized by his flawless beauty. My fingers move of their own accord, reaching towards his face. That smile returns, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“You may touch me.” His lips part slightly, and I press my fingers against them. His tongue flicks out, wrapping around my fingertip and drawing it into his mouth. Before I can react, I feel a sharp bite.

I gasp as he licks the blood that wells up from the small wound. “A small treat,” he murmurs. “That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

I find myself nodding, helpless under his gaze.

He licks my finger one last time, savoring the taste before swallowing. “They told me you’d be extraordinary, worth every moment of waiting. Yet, your taste is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

My body reacts to his words and his touch—still innocent but making my skin feel like it’s stretched too tight, like I might explode. I let my head fall back, exposing my neck to him as his tongue traces a path up the sensitive skin.

And then he bites.

I bolt awake, heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. I fumble in the dark, reaching for the light switch, feeling profoundly alone with Rose away for the weekend.

I throw off the covers and stagger to the mirror, desperately checking my neck. There’s nothing there, no sign of the bite.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I grab a blanket and a book, and huddle in the hall lounge, surrounded by the harsh light of every lamp and the incessant flicker of the television, trying to drive away the lingering shadows of the nightmare.

September 1997

I eased into my seat, the familiar weight of my bag pressed to my left side and draped an arm over it as if to claim it for my own. It was the first night off from the relentless grind of being on-call since mid-August and the first real night out in years. I’d never been much for the party scene, and medical school had only sharpened that aversion. The last time I went out for drinks was nearly six years ago, a fleeting memory of bar hopping that I’d abandoned early, too exhausted to keep pace with my friends.

Tonight, however, felt different. There was a nagging sense that I was misremembering that long-ago night, like a foggy half-remembered dream where something vital was missing. My life in New York had become a blur of medical texts and sleepless shifts, the grueling 24-hour days erasing the finer details of my existence. My final year had been a carousel of discomfort, but the specifics eluded me, lost in exhaustion. Perhaps a creep of some sort, some misguided doctor with a name I couldn’t quite grasp—maybe that’s what had soured my memory. 

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find Hoseok’s contact. The old SeaTAC was still a relic of the past, but I clung to it out of stubborn habit. Despite its age, it was a lifeline to the outside world, a way to escape the pager’s relentless beeping. I longed for the day when I could toss the landline, but the cost of cell phone minutes constantly reminded me of its importance. With his endless chatter, Miles made sure I burned through those minutes with alarming frequency.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice was silky, a comforting balm after a long stretch of clinical detachment.

“Hey,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just got on.”

“See you soon,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. I could almost picture the smile on his face, and it made me smile in return. His words seemed more benign over the phone, starkly contrasting the intensity of our recent encounters. “Save my spot.”

The car was beginning to fill up, Friday night revelers claiming their space, making it nearly impossible to save a seat. I promised I’d try, even as I felt the crushing inevitability of the crowd. His chuckle was soft, almost intimate. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

I bit my lip, the endearment both flattering and unsettling. A tiny voice in my head cautioned me, even though Hoseok had never used his terms of affection demeaningly. The voice grew louder when he wasn’t around, whispering warnings I couldn’t entirely dismiss. It was strange, this constant inner debate.

“I’m going to hang up,” Hoseok said, his voice a sensual murmur. I moved the phone away from my ear, puzzled by the seductive undertone. Was he implying something more?

Was I expecting more from tonight?

“I’m running up my minutes,” he laughed, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

“Oh,” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

The recurring dreams of him were becoming a distraction. My nights were plagued with vivid, unsettling fantasies, leaving me restless and frazzled. I wiggled in my seat, pressing my thighs together to quell the unsettling arousal. Reality would surely disappoint, no matter how compelling he seemed in my dreams. I resolved to hold off on sex for now. I didn’t want to tarnish his allure with premature intimacy.

“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Hoseok asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

The wine started hitting, and the night air was crisp against my skin. Hoseok was the perfect gentleman; the evening was a beautiful respite from my routine. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, and sighed.

“I wish I could say it was for noble reasons,” I said, my voice tinged with melancholy. “In truth, I just wanted my family to notice me. I thought graduating medical school would make them see me, but it never quite worked out that way.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully beside me. I turned my gaze away, feeling a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“None of us are perfect,” he said after a pause, his voice low and contemplative. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and my choices haven’t always been noble.”

I leaned closer, savoring his warmth and intoxicating scent. Despite my fatigue, the night felt lighter, almost magical. He was mesmerizing, and I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected. 

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said with a soft grin, snuggling closer.

“Well,” he said, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his side. “You haven’t had me all to yourself yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a curious blend of fear and delight. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions—enchantment and apprehension intertwined. Hoseok’s smile was disarming, melting away my unease, but I made a mental note to reflect on my feelings once I was alone. He seemed almost too perfect, and that nagging pit in my stomach grew again before vanishing. 

“I don’t want the night to end,” Hoseok whispered, his breath warm against my ear as we waited for the train. “I’m having such a good time.”

I smiled, “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine longing.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m getting the next few weekends off now that the other fellowship student is starting. My supervisor is trying to get me off every Saturday.”

“It’s a good thing my boss is flexible,” Hoseok purred, causing my heart to race. “Otherwise, I’d never get to spend time with you.”

I wanted to be annoyed by his clinginess, to remind him I wasn’t his girlfriend, but instead, I found myself grinning. His words made me feel seen and appreciated. Despite the anxiety he sometimes stirred in me, I was eager to be close to him. He looked at me so intently that I was willing to overlook my reservations. Maybe it was just butterflies?

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to divert my thoughts.

Hoseok was a bartender at a speakeasy in Manhattan, where he’d worked since it opened. He had hinted at it throughout the evening, teasing me with its obscurity. 

“It’s a smaller place,” he said amusedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my heart pounding strangely.

“Dauphine.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Images of dimly lit corridors and crimson hues flashed in my mind. I was sure I’d never been there, but the name stirred a disquieting sense of déjà vu. The dream from July, the man from my dreams—there was a connection, but it eluded me. 

As we stood in the bustling, well-lit area, I edged away slightly, unsettled. Hoseok was a charming gentleman, but the name “Dauphine” had ignited an inexplicable dread. Despite his humor and warmth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—or maybe I was just afraid of what I might find.

I stole a furtive glance at him, and it felt as though I’d known him far longer than the scant time we’d spent together. His face was oddly familiar, like a recurring image in a dream half-remembered. I had met him before, somewhere.

“No, you haven’t,” his voice cut through the night like ice. It was cold, detached, far from the warmth he’d shown me all evening. A shiver snaked down my spine, and I forgot to breathe. His grip on me tightened as though sensing my legs would buckle beneath me. “You’ve never known me before.”

The fierce scowl on his face startled me. His eyes, glowing with an eerie golden light, seemed to burn through me. Everything about him felt otherworldly like he was something less than human. A fragmented memory of a man sitting alone at a bar surged up, only to dissolve into nothingness.

“I am Hoseok,” he whispered, his voice weaving a heavy spell over my senses. “I am your boyfriend. We’ve been together a long time, and we’re in love. You just tripped and hit your head.”

A sudden jolt of pain made me wince and try to pull away from him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was deceptively tender, and I sighed through the pain.

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Does it look bad?”

Hoseok’s grin was unsettling, a blend of fake sympathy and amusement. 

“You were lucky this time. Just a barely noticeable red mark.”

I chuckled at my own clumsiness. I wasn’t usually this awkward, but my heel caught on a pavement crack. I gingerly rubbed my ankle and was relieved to find it unscathed. Even my heel had survived.

“Jeez,” I said, looping my arm through his. “I completely forgot what we were talking about.”

Hoseok’s smile broadened, clearly enjoying my disoriented state. I rolled my eyes and reached over to gently tap his chest. He responded by sticking out his tongue, which only made me scoff at his childishness.

“We were talking about work,” I said.

I nodded as if on autopilot. “How’s the bar?”

Hoseok worked at a swanky speakeasy in Manhattan, though I was trying to remember its name. Despite being together for what felt like ages, I had never been there. I was never one for bars, while Hoseok reveled in the place’s gothic charm. The name eluded me again as I tried to recall it.

“Tae’s excited,” he chuckled. “With Halloween around the corner, business will pick up.”

I hummed, my thoughts still lingering on the name. I had thought his boss was Tristan, but I must have misremembered. I shrugged off the nagging thought.

“You should stop by the bar,” I heard myself say, sounding oddly mechanical.

“Sounds fun,” he replied, his tone laced with a predatory edge.

Looking back on that night, it’s almost laughable how easily he swayed me. The way he possessed me was undeniable; soon, he would own every inch of me. Those dreams of him were his twisted way of showing love—how much he craved to touch me, to keep me bound to him. It’s sick and vile, and the thought of what we’d become makes me nauseous, yet to him, it’s love. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders.

I remember leaning into his side, kissing his cheek as if I was floating. His presence was intoxicating. Even now, I can feel the ghost of his touch and his body's heat. It’s a twisted sort of longing I have for him. This place is cold and dark without him, without his reminders of how much he cares and wants me to scream for him. Here, time stands still, and life continues in a strange loop. I can’t say whether I’m alive or dead, but I know it no longer matters. Once I entered this world, my life ended and began anew. Hoseok made me feel both alive and dead simultaneously.

And as I write this, my heart aches for him. My fingers tremble at the thought of him returning to claim me again. The pain he inflicts makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. I miss him.

It both sickens and excites me.

October 19, 1997

My bones groaned and cracked like ancient floorboards beneath my weight as I fought to catch my breath. Sweat slicked my skin, and I began patting myself down, half-expecting to find something tangible to anchor me to reality. My surroundings slowly came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above stung my eyes, but their sterile brightness offered an odd comfort. I was at home, cocooned in thick blankets that had twisted themselves around my legs. The bed beneath me creaked with the effort of supporting my restless form. I sighed, flopping back down, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to me like a shadow.

The dreams had become relentless, evolving from vague echoes of past terrors into something far more insidious. These weren't fueled by mere fear but by an overwhelming, consuming desire that felt dangerously close to swallowing me whole. The weekends were the worst, and after seeing Hoseok, they had turned almost infernal. He was always there in my dreams, his skin smooth and flawless, his deep brown eyes burning into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air.

Every time I closed my eyes, his image flickered behind my eyelids like a dark, seductive film. The scenes always ended the same way: I would climax, my body convulsing in a fevered rhythm, while I looked up to see his face contorted in ecstasy. His deep, guttural groans would reverberate through me as his grip tightened on my skin. He would finish inside me, and my spent body would collapse beneath him. He would drape himself over me, showering my chest with tender, lingering kisses. The setting varied—my bed, a chilling, unfamiliar void, or a dimly lit lounge—but the conclusion was always the same.

With a sigh, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool surface. An email from Hoseok awaited me, and a smile crept across my face despite the haze of exhaustion. He was the epitome of a perfect gentleman—never pushing beyond my boundaries, never demanding more than I was willing to give, always accommodating his schedule to mine. Even in matters of intimacy, something many men would aggressively pursue, he always respected my pace. In the hectic blur of the past month, we hadn’t had a moment alone. He hadn’t even broached the topic. As I thought about it, I couldn't recall the last time we'd been intimate outside of these dreams.

From: Hoseok Jung Subject: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 03:05   To: Y/N Y/L/N Good morning, love, I'm sorry for the early message, especially since this is one of your rare mornings off. I hope I didn't wake you. I'm heading home from work and couldn't stop thinking about you. Taehyung is throwing a simple Halloween party this year, and luckily, it falls on a Friday. Would you like to join me? I think it could be a lot of fun. I love you. Hobi

I grinned and began typing my reply.

From: Y/N Y/L/N Subject: RE: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 04:15  To: Hoseok Jung Hobi, Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was tangled up in strange dreams and was deep asleep when your email arrived. Sadly, I doubt I'll fall back asleep anytime soon, so I plan on catching up on Buffy or Beyond Belief—whichever's on. Hopefully, I won't get stuck with reruns of Seinfeld, not really my thing. Lucky for me, I'm working mornings this week. I'd love to come to your party. Call me when you wake up. Love you, too. Y/N Y/L/N, M.D.   Palliative Care Physician, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

It barely registered that, to my knowledge, I had never said "I love you" to him before. I had never really pondered the oddity of our relationship. My memories of our time together were a disorienting blur, but I never questioned it. It wasn't entirely my fault—he had ensnared me, body and soul, and any unresolved threads might make it harder for him to maintain control. Regardless of our tangled history or how elusive it seemed; I was simply glad he wanted to see me at that moment.

I lay huddled in my bed, my body a coiled spring of anticipation, each nerve ending tingling with the foreboding that had stalked me all day. His voice had been a persistent whisper, a sultry hum that turned my name into a haunting lullaby. It was a melody wrapped in an insatiable longing, a caress of words that promised more than I dared to imagine.

Tonight, I wanted to resist. I tried to muster the strength to ignore the insidious pull, that relentless tug drawing me toward him like a moth to a flame. The very idea of defying him churned my stomach with a nauseous dread. But the threads of his influence were woven so tightly around me, it felt like trying to escape from silken chains.

Then it came, cutting through the murkiness of my thoughts like a scythe. His voice, now sharper, more insistent, shattered the fragile veneer of my resistance.

“Y/N. Come to me now.”

With a sudden jolt, the pretense of defiance evaporated. I threw off the blankets as if they were chains, leaping out of bed and flying through the darkened hallway. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurtled down the stairs, each step propelled by an unrelenting force, dragging me inexorably toward him.

He waited for me in the foyer, bathed in an eerie glow that made him look like an apparition from a fevered dream—or perhaps a nightmare. His smile was both welcoming and chilling, a promise wrapped in malice. When he took my hand, his lips brushed against my fingers with a cool, electric touch that set my entire body aflame.

The intensity of my reaction embarrassed me, but he tilted my face up to meet his gaze, shaking his head with a look of almost pity.

“Your blood knows what it wants, my lamb. You must let your mind follow.”

My face burned with fierce heat, but the compulsion pulling me to him was too overpowering to resist. He guided me through the meticulously manicured gardens to a secluded alcove framed by dense, sculpted hedges. He seated himself on a bench, drawing me onto his lap with a practiced grace that made me feel both cherished and helpless. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, never left mine, promising secrets I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

Without a second thought, I bared my neck to him. The desperate craving for the bliss and torment of his bite had consumed me completely; waiting was no longer an option.

He lingered, his tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the delicate skin of my throat. The sensation was almost unbearable, and I found myself begging with a voice that sounded alien, strained.

“Please.”

And then he bit.

I shot awake, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had fallen asleep hunched over my desk at the hospital, my neck stiff from the awkward angle. Rubbing away the ache, I cursed the book that had plagued me with such vivid nightmares. I needed to talk to my brother again; this couldn’t be anything but a cruel trick of the mind.

The glowing digits on my alarm clock mocked me with their late hour. I stood up, stretching and feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. I changed into a t-shirt and shuffled toward the bed, determined to banish the lingering unease.

As I passed the window, something froze me in place. I looked down into the parking lot and saw him standing under a flickering lamppost, his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

It was Hoseok—or at least, it looked like him. But the resemblance was grotesquely twisted. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a sickly luminescence that cut through the night like a malevolent beacon. His skin was peeling away in ragged strips, as if he were shedding himself like a decaying husk. This was no longer my Hoseok. He was a creature of nightmares, a monster forged from my darkest fears.

My fingers clung to the windowsill as I stared, my body paralyzed by the overwhelming urge to run to him, to give in to the magnetic pull of his presence. I watched as his lips moved, shaping a single word that seemed to echo through the chill of the night.

“Soon.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish. When I opened them again, the parking lot was empty, the lamppost casting its pallid light over a sea of unmoving cars. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, snatched my blanket and pillow, and stumbled back to the on-call room, desperate to escape the sinister call that still haunted the dark corners of my mind.

October 28, 1997

"What should I do?" the nurse asked, her name slipping from my mind like a shadow lost in the night.

"Give them some space," I replied, my gaze fixed resolutely away from the room across the hall. Elizabeth had just passed away, her DNR a cold, ironclad barrier that left no room for last-ditch efforts. Her family needed their final moments with her while we waited for the body to be transported. Mary was still wailing into her husband's chest, and Elijah looked like he'd been dragged through a storm, barely able to stand. Percy stood like a marble statue, his eyes glazed over while his wife clung to him. The sight of Percy’s frozen, unseeing expression twisted my gut in a way I couldn’t ignore. It reminded me too much of what I feared—and I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of grief.

"Should we get them out of the room?" another nurse asked, her thick southern drawl hinting at Memphis. "Seeing her like that can’t be good for their mental well-being."

I shook my head. "Let them have their last moments in peace. Offer condolences and check on them regularly."

I fiddled nervously with my ID card, the familiar unease gnawing at me. My wounds from the day seemed too fresh. Miles surfaced in my thoughts again, and I resolved to call my brother on my way home tonight. Hoseok wasn’t working tonight, so he wouldn’t join me on the subway.

"I'm going to check in with 211," I murmured, watching Percy leave the room, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’ll be back in 5-10 minutes to see if the family needs anything. Just make them as comfortable as you can."

"You got it, doc."

The subway ride home was a silent affair. My headache throbbed like a relentless drum, and my stomach churned uneasily. The day had been heavy with more deaths than usual. Elizabeth’s family had eventually calmed down, but their kindness on their way out hadn’t eased the knot in my chest. I knew their pain intimately.

I called my brother as I made my way to the subway. Despite his complicated feelings about our mother, he was always supportive. The conversation ended abruptly when Aurora entered the room, demanding his attention. Miles had never truly understood my emotions; I doubted he ever tried.

The short walk home from the subway was a blessing, though the cold night air bit at my skin. I was grateful for the proximity of my apartment, but the streets were alive with noise—tourists laughing, gang members shouting outside their apartment complexes. I was relieved to escape the chaos, though my street wasn’t entirely free of foot traffic. My old apartment in East Harlem had been more of a hustle, with late-night carpooling with a coworker whose name eluded me. I knew it started with an 'A,' but the memory only worsened my headache. I set the thought aside for another time.

After selling the family home in Florida and vacation properties scattered across the country, I’d managed to buy a house on Astro Row at 100th and 30th Street. It was an old building—too expensive for its size, and initially, it seemed far from beautiful. But over time, it grew on me. I loved the brownstones, the front porches, the grand trees, and the quiet streets. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Even the renovations I’d planned were postponed. The charm of the old place had won me over, and I’d made peace with its quirks. I even got along with my neighbor, a small but welcome relief.

Tonight was quieter than usual, and none of my neighbors seemed awake. I missed the old man at the end of the street who used to sit on his porch, sipping coffee and waiting for dawn. It was nearly 4:30 AM. I shrugged and continued; my mind focused on the comfort of my bed.

Fumbling for my keys, I cursed quietly when my pockets were empty. My purse, a cavernous mess of clutter, swallowed everything. As I dug through it, a sudden burst of laughter behind me made me freeze. Two women strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were both stunning, their pale skin glowing under the moonlight. One of them locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the darkness. She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew me.

"Hello," she said, her voice as light and tinkling as a bell.

"Hi," I replied, feeling strangely off-balance.

The other woman seemed perplexed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, with blonde hair as pale as her skin and eyes as dark as night. Her gaze swept over me with an unmistakable disdain, her teeth bared in a slight sneer. Yet, despite her apparent coldness, she was undeniably beautiful.

"How are you?" the first woman asked, her voice soothing.

"Fine," I responded, my throat dry. "And you?"

The nagging headache intensified as I tried to make sense of the encounter, a sense of déjà vu wrapping around me like a tightening noose. The women moved on, their laughter fading into the night, leaving me with a lingering unease that clung to me like the shadows of my dreams.

She studied me, her face a shifting canvas of emotions before settling into a look of genuine confusion. I tried to place her but struggled. There was something crucial I needed to remember, something just out of reach, but my mind remained stubbornly blank. A frantic urge to call Hoseok seized me.

The realization hit me like a cold slap. Why did I think I needed him? I tried to convince myself I could handle this alone. But deep down, I knew I needed him here. He could make this headache vanish, soothe the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

“What's your name?” she asked, her smile both disarming and unsettling, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

“Y/N,” I replied, feeling dazed and disconnected.

“Cold night, Y/N,” she purred, her gaze never wavering. “You should get inside.”

I nodded absently, my words failing me as I fumbled with my keys. The blonde woman's giggle, filled with an eerie excitement, made me shiver. I wanted to retreat, to escape this strange encounter. I shoved the key into the lock, eager to shut out the unsettling night.

“Y/N,” the first woman’s voice halted me, her tone chillingly smooth. Neither of them had moved since they stopped. The blonde’s smile remained fixed, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Be careful out here. You never know who’s wandering around.”

I nodded, turning the doorknob, but her voice stopped me again.

“I work at a bar in Midtown,” she said, her words snagging my attention like a hook. I had always known she worked at a bar, but why was it important? “It’s called Dauphine. Ever heard of it?”

Yes, I wanted to say. That place haunted my nightmares, a dark shadow that clung to the edges of my memory. But I couldn’t piece together why. Hoseok would know. He’d make everything better. No, my mind screamed—he’d only make it worse. I couldn’t say how I knew this, but I wanted to listen to the little voice inside me tonight. Something was very wrong.

“You should come by sometime,” she offered. “We’re on 1st and East 54th in the far corner of the Diamond District. If you need anything, just ask for ‘Bootsy.’”

Bootsy…

“Are you okay with cherry liquor?” she asked.

I let go of the doorknob and turned to face them fully. I couldn’t meet either of their eyes. The sensation was all too familiar. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you know Hoseok? He’s my boyfriend.”

The blonde hissed sharply. Bootsy gasped, her face a mask of surprise and something darker, more shadowy. It was clear that Hoseok was connected to these people, tangled up with my memories of New York, the root of all my confusion. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

No, I shook my head. Was that what he wanted me to believe? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes,” Bootsy finally replied. “I’ve known him for many, many years.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I slammed the door shut and locked it. The blonde finally moved, stepping away from Bootsy and muttering something I couldn’t catch. She disappeared down the street, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered through the door, my voice tinged with desperation.

Bootsy’s response came through with a sorrowful edge. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, my headache pounding with such intensity that I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I remember things but not really, and everything goes blank every time he’s around.”

Bootsy’s eyes, a deep crimson, darted around nervously. They seemed to glow faintly, like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, glossy and sleek. Bootsy wasn’t human. What she was, I couldn’t say. But she was somehow tied to the nightmares that plagued me, and Hoseok’s shadow loomed larger than ever.

“He’s a demon,” she whispered hurriedly, her words laced with a fear that seemed almost tangible. “I can’t tell you exactly what he’s done. I’ve never known him to keep someone around for this long, but whatever you’ve done to make him want you seems to have spared your life. You should have died back in ’92 with your friend.”

A friend? Someone else had been involved? Hoseok was a demon? The fragments Bootsy offered were like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a reality I could barely grasp. I believed her, though. I had no reason not to. My memories felt like they were being twisted, distorted by Hoseok’s manipulations.

Then I thought of the creature outside of the hospital and felt my knees go numb. I hadn't hallucinated anything. It was real. It was him. Oh my God.

“We can’t talk for long,” she said, a look of pained urgency on her face. “He won’t sleep for much longer.”

“What can I do?” I begged, clutching my head as if I could squeeze out the pain. It was unbearable. “God, it hurts.”

“Nothing,” Bootsy’s voice trembled. “Hoseok wants you, and he’s never lost a game. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do; he will win. Whatever you’ve been doing has kept you alive this long, but I don’t know how much time you have left.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I had been a pawn in Hoseok’s twisted game, my life manipulated by his cruel whims. What did he want from me? My body? My soul? The realization was suffocating.

“Go to Dauphine and find Taehyung,” Bootsy instructed, her voice carrying a chilling finality despite its almost maternal tone. “He had a soft spot for you back then. If you’re lucky, he might be able to change you, make you like us. That might be enough to satisfy Hoseok.”

Taehyung. The name cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, easing the throbbing in my head, if only for a moment. He had haunted my dreams, his image vivid: a white button-up shirt, his gentle hands, his voice firm yet tender, saying he didn’t want to share me. He had left me in that bar, but the details were fuzzy—how or why I had ended up there was a blur. All I knew was that I was lost, and he had once been my guide.

She paused, her eyes darkening with a weighty empathy. “You’d be luckier if Taehyung agrees to end your life before the demon does. I wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone, nor would I be glad to see you die, but those are your choices. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it through this.”

“What happened in ’92?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Bootsy shook her head, her expression darkening with sorrow. “He killed your friend and tried to lure you away. That's all I know, and I don't have time to explain the rest. The sun’s about to rise, and your demon will be waiting for you to fall asleep. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. If he knows you’re aware of him, he might decide to kill you.”

It felt wrong to just let it happen. What would this mean for me in the end? Would knowing about his influence change anything? I couldn’t be sure, but if I wanted to buy myself time, I had no choice but to take the risk. I needed answers, a plan, anything to regain control.

“Y/N,” Bootsy’s urgent voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Your memories won't come back unless he wants them to. Let it go. Either way you'll be dead.”

With those final, haunting words, Bootsy vanished as quickly as she had appeared. The weight of my predicament pressed heavily on my shoulders, my impending doom looming like a dark cloud. I stumbled back to the porch, unlocked the front door, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of my bed. Bootsy’s grim mantra echoed in my mind as I tried to push aside my troubling thoughts about Hoseok, grappling with the uncertainty that lay ahead.

He appeared to me then, in a vision that was both intoxicating and horrifying. His eyes sparkled with a predatory thrill, his touch setting my skin ablaze, igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over me with ruthless intensity. His worship was ceaseless, his lips warm and insistent, as if trying to devour every shred of my resistance. I was swallowed by him, lost in a whirlwind of passion that twisted the love I once felt (at least, I believed I felt) into something darker, more insidious. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

Bootsy’s words had struck me like a death knell, sealing my fate in an irreversible descent. She had unwittingly set my downfall into motion, transforming innocent affection into a ravenous lust that consumed every corner of my mind. When I awoke late in the evening, the decision to call off work for the rest of the week came with a grim resignation. The struggle to stay awake was in vain; it was becoming starkly clear how deeply Hoseok’s control had embedded itself within me. The inevitable was no longer a distant threat—it had already begun to unfold, dragging me into its dark embrace.

October 31, 1997

I tugged nervously at my skirt, my fingers trembling despite the cool night air that should have been a relief. The address that had arrived this morning was burned into my mind, glaring at me from the top of the paper—Dauphine, the bar Bootsy had mentioned. My plans were clear: find Bootsy, get directions, speak with this Taehyung, and figure out my options. But the gnawing truth was unavoidable—no matter what I did, it felt like my life was already slipping through my fingers.

Sleep deprivation had become my relentless tormentor. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by leaden exhaustion, and my attempts to feign illness to dodge work had morphed into a grim reality. It was a battle to stay awake each day, and I feared that simply making it to this bar would be a Herculean task.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to adjust the wig perched precariously on my head. I’d opted for a lazy Halloween costume—a half-hearted Cher from *Clueless*. The yellow plaid blazer was a thrift store find, the skirt a serendipitous discovery. But the wig made me look more like a grotesque caricature than a character. Frustrated, I yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor. I’d have to go without it.

Yawning, I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse back into bed. My cab was on its way, and I had to be ready. I gathered my essentials—purse, house keys, phone, and a spare outfit—preparing for a night that could very well be my last. I steeled myself for the confrontation, even if it felt like a hopeless, losing battle.

My daily struggle with myself had turned into a monotonous grind. My feigned illness had kept Hoseok at a distance, but it had only given me more time to spiral into despair over his influence. My mind was a battleground, where fragments of my past life clashed with the twisted desires he’d implanted in me. Every morning, I awoke to a gnawing need, a desperate craving for him that left me feeling sullied and repulsed.

I stepped outside and drew a shaky breath of the crisp night air. Calling my brother was both a comfort and a torment. There was a chance this could be the last time I spoke to him, and the thought tightened my chest like a vise. I fought back tears as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Miles answered, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. “Still out Trick-or-Treating?”

“We just got back,” he said. “Rory wants to talk to you.”

My heart ached at the sound of my niece’s voice. “Hi, Auntie,” she said, her voice sweet as ever. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” I sniffled, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Aurora’s excitement was a bright spot in my darkness. “I was Katerina, mommy was Miss Elaina, and daddy was Daniel Tiger.”

“That sounds amazing,” I wiped away my tears. “What about your baby brother?”

Aurora’s voice took on a scolding tone. “His name is Corbin, Auntie,” she said as though I should have known better. “He’s still in mommy’s belly, so he wasn’t anything. Mommy’s giving him candy.”

I laughed, though it was tinged with sadness. “How’s your mommy?”

“She says ‘Hi,’” Aurora replied. “We got the best candy! A lady was giving out big Starbursts. Daddy’s letting me have all the pink ones because I’m special.”

“You are special, sweet girl.”

A painful thought intruded—would Hoseok make them forget me if I asked him? The idea was almost too agonizing to bear. He’d kept me alive for five years, a perverse form of flattery that I struggled to appreciate. My self-loathing deepened as I thought about the life I was about to leave behind.

“Daddy says I have to go,” Aurora pouted. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Rory girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking as the tears welled up. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Aurora’s sweet voice drifted through the line, a beacon of innocence in my storm of dread.

I gasped, the floodgates opening as I fought to keep my composure. “Impossible,” I managed to whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.

“Why?” she giggled, her innocent curiosity slicing through my resolve.

“Because,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I love you more than the world.”

Aurora’s laughter began to fade as she handed the phone back to Miles. The sound of her giggles and her mother’s laughter echoed in the background, a cruel reminder of the life I was about to lose. My heart clenched painfully at the thought of never hearing those sounds again.

“What’s up, sissy?” Miles asked, his tone tinged with concern.

“I was just heading out,” I said, forcing a tremulous cheerfulness into my voice. “Thought I’d call before my cab gets here. I’m leaving a little early.”

There was a heavy pause on the other end, a silence that spoke louder than words.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You sound upset.”

“No, no,” I hurried to reassure him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “Just tired. You know how it is.”

“You sure?” Miles pressed, his concern palpable. He was always too perceptive for his own good, but he never pushed too hard. I hoped he wouldn’t miss me too much.

“I’m positive, Bubba,” I said, my eyes darting to the cab pulling up to the curb. “My ride’s here. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Call me later?”

“I’ll try to remember in the morning,” I said, attempting to sound upbeat despite the crushing weight in my chest. “I know it’s late for you guys.”

I closed my phone with shaking hands and stuffed it into my purse, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The cab driver approached, his face a blur through my tears.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice a lifeline in the growing storm of my fear.

“1st and East 54th in the Diamond District,” I replied, offering a weak, strained smile.

“Dauphine?” The driver’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, a hint of something unsettling in his gaze. “Ever been there before?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to steady my breath. “I don’t remember it all that well. Guess I had too much fun last time.”

“Watch yourself,” the driver said, turning on the radio with a slow, deliberate movement. “That place is crawling with freaks.”

“Welcome to New York,” I muttered, more to myself than him.

He chuckled, his voice a touch too jovial. “Been here my whole life. My name’s Jimin. Call me if you need a getaway driver.”

The car rumbled with the low hum of R&B, Jimin fiddling with the radio as if trying to mask the creeping anxiety that gnawed at my insides. I mouthed the lyrics, trying to drown out the terror that threatened to consume me.

My thoughts were a twisted mess of fear and longing. The image of Hoseok, tainted by his manipulation, flickered through my mind. The desire to escape him was overpowered by the suffocating grip of my own confusion. Taehyung was my last, desperate hope—a fleeting chance at redemption. But deep down, a gnawing realization settled in I was already damned, teetering on the edge with no way back.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in my head: I miss him, love him, and need him…

I was spiraling, caught in a web of my own making, and the thought of facing what awaited me at Dauphine was almost too much to bear.

“We’re here,” Jimin's voice cut through the thick fog of dread that enveloped me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cash. I handed him a generous tip, a feeble attempt to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

The alleyway stretched before me, a grim path between the upscale buildings of the Diamond District. It looked less menacing than I’d imagined, but its familiarity offered no comfort. Dim street lamps cast weak pools of light that barely touched the encroaching darkness. I hoped—prayed—that Hoseok wasn’t already here. The fading daylight gave me just enough visibility to navigate, and the murmur of voices outside the bar was a small, shaky comfort. I clung to the hope that these voices belonged to ordinary people, potential witnesses if I needed to make a quick escape.

As I approached, the group of people outside fell silent. My stomach churned violently, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face them; their gaze was almost a physical presence, making my skin crawl even though I never looked directly at them. A low, sinister snicker from one of them sent a shiver down my spine, amplifying my fear. I hadn’t even seen their faces, yet their mere presence was enough to make me quake.

The bouncer at the gate eyed me with a scrutinizing glare.

“Password,” he demanded, his voice flat and unyielding.

“I-” I stammered, my mind racing to recall the password Hoseok had given me. “Audubon.”

The gate creaked open, and I slipped past the security guard, my heart pounding like a drum. Despite my nervous bravado, the bouncer’s indifference did little to soothe me. Once inside, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, escaping the unsettling stares.

I gripped my bag tightly, knuckles white, and started searching for the bar. The interior was starkly underwhelming—plush couches and private booths scattered haphazardly, with red neon signs pointing to the restrooms. The oppressive red and black color scheme was heavy, but thankfully devoid of any overtly horrific scenes. I had no desire for strobe lights or dance floors; the thought of walking into a trap was more than enough to keep me on edge.

Navigating through the dimly lit space, I felt like I was moving through a maze. The long hallway ahead seemed to stretch into an abyss, the darkness intensifying with each step. The oppressive gloom and the eerie silence made my nerves jangle. The jazz music that had been softly playing in the background had faded, leaving me in a disquieting void.

At the end of the hall, the emptiness was almost a relief. The silence was oppressive but meant I wasn’t walking into a room full of hostile eyes. Perhaps this was how I’d met Bootsy—wandering aimlessly until she had found me and guided me out.

The bar seemed to stretch on forever, an architectural labyrinth that added to my growing sense of dread. I held my breath as the walls seemed to close in, my anxiety a tangible weight pressing against my chest. The high ceilings and claustrophobic spaces combined to create a sensation of being trapped. My heels clicked sharply against the linoleum, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The place felt more like a mausoleum than a bar. Every step heightened my unease, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as I glanced around, trying to ignore the creeping terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling as it cut through the oppressive silence. “Is anybody here?”

The sudden sound of a voice behind me made me jump, my heart racing as I spun around with a gasp that morphed into a shriek. My balance faltered, and I slammed into the wall, scraping my arm against the rough surface. The sharp sting of pain was immediate and searing. I clutched my injured arm, the pain and the shock making my vision blur. I turned to face the figure who had startled me.

He stood there, his white button-down shirt contrasting sharply with the dim surroundings. His tall, lean frame was framed by broad shoulders, and his long fingers seemed to move with an effortless grace. But it was his smile that made my blood run cold—a wide, boxy grin that stretched unnaturally across his face, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, unsettling light.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I glared at him, struggling to steady my breathing and regain my composure. “It’s fine. It didn’t kill me, did it?”

He chuckled softly; a sound that felt more sinister than soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to my arm.

I looked down and saw blood seeping through a tear in my blazer. The sight of my own blood was like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The pain, combined with the sight of my blood, pushed me to the edge. My hands shook as I raised them to my face, tears welling up uncontrollably. The enormity of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Everything felt chaotic; my life had been turned upside down, and the relentless pounding in my head was unbearable. I should have stayed home. At least Hoseok’s presence, while twisted, had been a semblance of comfort.

The despair was suffocating.

“Are you okay, sha?” His voice was soft, but his touch on my arm was disconcertingly gentle.

I laughed, a hollow, despairing sound. “Does it look like it?”

“No, you look upset,” he replied, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“You don’t say?” I snapped, rolling my eyes and jerking my arm away from his touch.

Despite my evident distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his smile lingering like a dark shadow. His pleasure at my discomfort was unsettling, and the aura around him felt eerily similar to the disquieting presence of those outside. His attractiveness was overshadowed by a deeply disturbing quality that made me want to flee. It was as if fear had paralyzed me, pinning me in place.

Suddenly, a chilling realization hit me. As I forced myself to examine his face more closely, I recognized him from the shadows of my past. He was strikingly beautiful in a haunting way, like Bootsy. His pale skin was almost luminescent, and his eyes, once hidden in the darkness, now revealed flecks of red that seemed to glow with a menacing, otherworldly light. They were mesmerizing yet horrifying, a dangerous allure that made my skin crawl. The spell he cast was broken as quickly as it had begun, and I struggled to look him in the eye again.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a silky whisper that seemed to wrap around me, tightening with a sinister intent.

Embarrassed by my earlier outburst, I nodded slowly. My hope of finding help felt increasingly elusive as the night grew darker and more menacing. All I wanted was to escape, but the hope that things might improve clung stubbornly to me. Taehyung exuded a disorienting blend of warmth and menace, a mix of comfort and dread that left me feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” I said, my voice quivering as I wiped away a tear. “I don’t remember you all that well.” 

Or at all, my mind whispered in the encroaching darkness. The more I looked at him, the more I felt Hoseok’s oppressive influence tugging at my thoughts. Images of Hoseok’s touch, his voice, his eyes—each one flared in my mind with an insidious intensity. He misses you; he loves you, he needs you…

“Requiem was wrong,” Taehyung murmured, his fingers chillingly cold as they cradled my face. “You’re too far gone.”

“Who?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling and my head spinning. His touch was both numbing and intoxicating.

“Bootsy,” he cooed, his breath a mix of cotton and sweet pine needles. “She said you had a chance, but she was mistaken. My friend has already completed the bond.”

“W-what?” I whispered, dazed and confused. The throbbing ache in my head resonated with Taehyung’s presence. “What bond?”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, his proximity making my pulse race.

When his lips met mine, they were like ice, yet the jolt of electricity that surged through me made my knees buckle. His laughter was dark and twisted as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his tongue brushing against my lips. I mewled, clutching his shoulders as the electric sensation overwhelmed me. His groan sent shivers through my entire body, and the echo of Hoseok’s voice in my head was relentless. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you…

Suddenly, I shoved Taehyung away, gasping for air as a searing pain exploded in my head. It felt as if a sledgehammer had struck my temple. My vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Poor child,” Taehyung crooned, kneeling beside me. His scent, soothing yet oddly comforting, did little to ease the tremors wracking my body. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I’m going to die,” I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The pain will lessen once you accept it; accept him.”

“What does he want?” I managed to choke out.

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung’s eyes glittered ominously in the dim light. “He believes he’s in love with you. It’s a pity, really. I want nothing more than to keep you, but I can’t risk angering him. He would destroy Requiem for revealing his secrets; she is my most cherished friend. Do you understand?”

Numbly, I nodded. I’m going to die. I miss him. I’m going to die. He loves you. I’m going to die. I need him. I’m going to die. I love him. He needs you. I’m—

“Your eyes look just like his,” Taehyung marveled, his gaze softening. “He’s bound to you in a way I’ve never seen before.”

As I stared at Taehyung, my vision began to blur, and the voices in my head whispered louder in the dark corners of my mind. Their weight pressed down on me, my eyes rolling back until all I could see was a void. When I came to, I was horrified to find vomit splattered across Taehyung’s pristine white shirt. His expression twisted in horror and pain as he watched me unravel.

A dark, malevolent presence loomed near, its acrid stench of soot and kerosene overwhelming my senses. My head throbbed as if it had been cleaved in two, and a grotesque, pecking sensation gnawed at my exposed, vulnerable insides. Taehyung’s icy touch against my rigid form offered little comfort as I lay helpless against his chest, terror seeping in with every passing second.

“There’s my girl!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze of despair, and just like that, the pain evaporated.

I exhaled, sinking into Taehyung’s embrace. His body felt like ice against my fevered skin, a chilling contrast that brought an unexpected relief. His cool fingers traced my scalp, their touch a soothing balm amidst the chaos.

“I hope you understand Bootsy’s decision,” Taehyung’s voice was as cold as his touch, carrying a weight of finality. “She thought you were still playing games. But she was wrong.”

A deep, resonant rumble filled the space, and Hoseok’s voice emerged from the darkness like a spectral echo.

“Requiem has every right to her judgment,” Hoseok said, his voice a smooth caress laced with menace. “If it were anyone else, I might not care. But Y/N’s suffering is a consequence of her meddling. I had hoped to keep her alive.”

“Why?” I croaked, the question barely escaping my lips.

“You’re my special girl,” Hoseok purred, his voice dripping with a twisted, cruel fondness. “So innocent, so malleable. You’re perfect.”

A strange calm enveloped me as I lay against Taehyung, the tumult of emotions and pain fading to a low murmur. Hoseok’s presence hung over me like a dark, oppressive cloud, his words a cruel mockery of the comfort I desperately sought.

Taehyung’s fingers moved through my hair with a cold, almost clinical precision. “You’ve been chosen,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “It’s a rare bond that neither Bootsy nor I can undo. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

My vision blurred, shadows of past anguish swirling around me. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting lullaby that twisted my insides. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how you struggle, you are woven into my essence.”

The room seemed to constrict, the walls inching inward, shadows elongating and darkening. A biting chill settled over the space, the whispers of the damned intertwining with my deepest fears. I could almost see their forms, spectral and menacing, reaching out from the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, the world spinning dizzily around me. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I stumbled away from Taehyung’s unnervingly composed presence, my eyes darting frantically for any sign of escape or salvation.

“Y/N,” Hoseok’s voice was a dissonant blend of soothing and threatening. “Don’t run from me. You belong here, with me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the overwhelming urge to flee battling with a stubborn thread of hope tangled in my despair. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, clinging to the faintest possibility of survival amidst the encroaching darkness.

I turned to Taehyung, my gaze pleading, desperate. “Is there no way out? Is there any hope left?”

Taehyung’s expression softened with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Try to enjoy your final moments.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the corridor, each step deliberate and foreboding. My heart leaped as a figure emerged from the gloom. Bootsy. Her presence was both a flicker of reassurance and a shadow of dread.

“I’m sorry,” Bootsy’s voice was a murmur of regret in the darkness.

I looked at her, then back at Taehyung, and finally at the encroaching shadows that seemed to reach out with a ravenous hunger. The weight of the choice, of my impending doom, pressed heavily on my chest, threatening to crush me under its gravity.

With a shuddering breath, I steeled myself. “I can’t let this happen to me,” I said, my voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t want this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the darkness thickening. Hoseok’s laughter echoed through the void, a low, mocking sound that sent icy shivers down my spine. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be writhing on the floor if you didn’t.”

The shadows deepened, the walls closing in as if reality itself was warping to ensnare me. A cold grip tightened around my soul, a force dragging me back into the abyss I had fought so hard to escape. An aching chill settled below my diaphragm, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My head spun again, his voice a soft whisper in the recesses of my mind. I miss you. I love you. I need you…

Don’t leave me.

Taehyung’s expression hardened into one of grim resignation. “You’re already bound to him. The bond is too strong.”

As I fought against the invisible chains tightening around me, the futility of my struggle became all too apparent. The darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me back into the depths I had desperately tried to escape.

“Please,” I whispered into the void, but the darkness consumed my plea. “Please, no.”

Hoseok’s voice filled the void, smooth and victorious. “Welcome home, darling.”

The last glimmers of light vanished, leaving me in an eternal night, a prisoner of my own choices and the dark forces that had ensnared me. My mind fractured under the weight of the consuming darkness, and as the final remnants of my resistance crumbled, I faced the harrowing truth.

There was no salvation. No escape. Only the endless, consuming dark.

And in that darkness, I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this suffocating darkness—hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Time has become an abstract concept here, slipping through my grasp like the thin veil of reality that separates me from the void. The only link to the world beyond this prison is Hoseok, a ghostly presence who appears with a gleam in his eyes that chills me to the bone. His voice, carrying the weight of a thousand tortured souls, always asks the same haunting question: How are you feeling?

We were never friends. Each passing day has sharpened my memories into a cruel clarity. I don’t know where my physical body is—doubtful it’s anywhere near this place. The ink and paper I use to write materialize out of nowhere whenever I need them, appearing and disappearing like phantoms in my disturbed mind. This place defies all logic and reason.

Initially, I fought Hoseok with every ounce of my being. Each refusal brought excruciating pain that felt like it would tear me apart. My screams echoed back at me from the oppressive void, unanswered and ignored. Hoseok would slip into the darkness with a silent, predatory grace, his hot hands roaming over my shivering body before I even knew he was there. I would scramble away, howling and begging him to take me home, but he always left without a word.

Eventually, I gave up the fight. I accepted that escape was impossible, even though my soul still ached for my old life. The pain eased only when I surrendered, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent. They were filled with idle chatter about his plans for me. I learned he was a demon, and I was destined to become one too. The possession would erase most of who I once was, but when I awoke, we would be forever linked as master and shade. My freedom would only come after I took my first human life, but that day seemed impossibly distant. Hoseok savored every bite of my soul with a mournful delight.

What I felt for Hoseok wasn’t love—it was an obsession, a malignant force that had seeped into every corner of my being. “A natural reaction of a shade to its master,” he said. I was bound to him, and escape was nothing but a cruel illusion.

The first signs of my unraveling appeared when Hoseok vanished for days on end. In the infinite darkness, where time had no meaning, his absence was a torment of its own. Despite his power to bend reality, he chose to leave me here, dependent on his presence for any sign of change. I began talking to myself, my voice the only sound in the oppressive silence. I spoke for hours, my throat raw and hoarse from the effort, desperately trying to fend off the encroaching madness.

I felt like an addict in withdrawal. I don’t recall when hallucinations began, but soon I was conversing with a phantom chorus of voices. Deep down, I knew it was Hoseok orchestrating these illusions, but my fractured mind twisted reality into something I could barely comprehend. My hatred for him only served to cloud my already distorted perception.

As time dragged on, I grew weary. My speech turned into riddles, convinced I was a prophet receiving divine revelations. Raised Catholic, I had long drifted from faith, but the darkness reignited an obsession with God. I clung desperately to fragmented Bible verses. Hoseok, ever the manipulator, provided me with a Bible. If I weren’t so far gone, I might have questioned his uncanny ability to fulfill my twisted needs.

When I told Hoseok about my religious background, he laughed, and the darkness morphed into a cathedral. For the first time, there was something tangible to focus on during his absences. It was both a prison and a gift. The pews were filled with spectral congregants, and every day became Sunday. I feverishly wrote sermons, warning of the apocalypse. Hoseok attended with a devotion bordering on reverence, but he always left too soon.

The withdrawal pangs paralyzed me, but incessant talking kept the crushing loneliness at bay. I remember the first encounter after becoming accustomed to this madness. My body trembled with need, yet my mind remained alert. Each denial of release brought physical agony, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent and prolonged. My breakdown was inevitable.

On the day of my final descent, I felt his presence before I saw him. My struggle had reached its nadir. Despite my lingering hope for escape, Hoseok’s presence shattered my resolve. I became an all-too-willing participant in his dark designs. Even now, as I lie prostrate in my despair, I can’t escape the haunting reality of my existence.

The words of the prayer rolled off my tongue like a ghostly murmur in the dim, solemn church. Each syllable was a desperate plea, a sacrament of my crumbling faith:

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

“Body of Christ, save me.”

“Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

This prayer was a twisted sacrament, a litany of sacred pleas that felt increasingly like cries into the void.

“Water from Christ’s side, wash me.”

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

“O good Jesus, hear me.”

I bowed my head, eyes squeezed shut like a child hiding from monsters under the bed. My hands gripped tightly in a futile attempt to hold onto my sanity. I prayed not just for absolution but for a distraction, for him to stay away, for the sinful thoughts to dissipate like smoke in the sun.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, spectral and insistent, urging me to rise, to accept, to finally bend to its will.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the pulpit, my legs trembling. I focused on the Gospel before me, the rhythm of my breath, the rehearsed words of today’s homily. I could hear murmurs of anticipation swelling in the pews, bouncing off the stone walls like echoes of forgotten promises.

Did they know? Did they sense the darkness creeping into my soul?

To be honest, I was unsure if anyone was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. This place had a maddening ability to distort my perception. I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, offering a fleeting smile to the choir’s children—figments of my fractured mind. Their eyes, hungry for guidance, believed in my wisdom, though I felt utterly unworthy. Their gaze was a reflection of my own inner torment.

My eyes locked on a figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, as I beheld him. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—an irreverent defiance slicing through the sanctity of the church. His gaze was a burning, unholy fire that cut through the darkness with unnerving clarity.

In that moment, the last vestiges of my sanity crumbled, leaving me exposed to the consuming darkness that had become my prison.

I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, and offered a fleeting smile to the choir’s children, who I no longer believed were real. My gaze wandered over the congregation, each face a testament to a faith I felt unworthy of. Their eyes, brimming with expectation, seemed to pierce through me, demanding guidance I could no longer provide. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if anyone in that room could see how profoundly empty I felt.

I once had everything figured out. Before this… before him.

My eyes locked on a single figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. There he was: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—a casual defiance that sliced through the church’s sanctity like a blade. His legs were crossed, hands poised by his sides, eyes ablaze with a fire that seemed to burn straight through my composure.

No holy book in his hands, no righteous smile on his lips—just an unspoken, rebellious challenge. His presence was a magnetism that pulled me toward a pit of temptation and sin. I forgot my sermon. I forgot the vows and promises etched into my soul. The solemn pledges made to men of faith and to God. Promises I had written daily to stave off the creeping insanity.

Those promises now felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by him. His eyes, his lips, his rebellious aura—an inferno of forbidden heat that ignited a longing I could no longer contain. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to escape the searing image of him. Abs, legs, an all-consuming heat that seemed to draw me into its vortex.

When I opened my eyes again, the fire remained. A cough from the crowd jolted me back to the present. I tugged at my collar, the symbol of my childhood and a cruel gift from Hoseok. It used to offer comfort, a sign of belonging, but now it felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

The faces of the congregation were a sea of silent, unspoken questions. Their eyes bored into me, filled with unvoiced suspicions and judgments.

Shit.

My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the pulpit, trying to anchor myself amidst the spiraling chaos. The eyes of the congregation felt like spectral judgments, each one a reminder of my spiraling failure. Hoseok’s presence, fixed in my peripheral vision, was a constant, unsettling pull—a dark promise of chaos just beyond the edge of reason. It pressed heavily on my chest, a suffocating weight threatening to collapse my fragile sanity.

I forced my gaze back to the Gospel, attempting to focus on the familiar lines of scripture, hoping they would restore my fractured resolve. But the words on the page blurred and twisted, tangled in the storm raging inside my head. Each verse felt like wading through molasses, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with the cold sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control, but the sound emerged as a strangled rasp.

The whispers grew louder, like rustling wings pressing against the walls of my sanity. My heart pounded like a funeral drum, each beat a reminder of my mounting desperation. I could almost hear the devil’s laughter, mocking my feeble attempts to maintain a façade of righteousness.

Hoseok’s gaze was unwavering, a predator’s gaze that seemed to sear through my composure. His movements were fluid, deliberate—like a hunter preparing to strike. My mind raced, desperately searching for an escape from this hellish vortex. I glanced at the crucifix behind me, its hollow eyes and outstretched arms now a pitifully inadequate shield against the encroaching darkness. The sacred symbol that once offered solace now seemed like a cruel joke, highlighting how far I had strayed from purity.

The murmurs of the congregation grew insistent, a chorus of impatient whispers that echoed like an unholy chant. The church, once a sanctuary, now closed in around me, its weight suffocating. I took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of my willpower. I forced myself to meet Hoseok’s gaze again, confronting the fiery rebellion in his eyes. He offered no sympathy, only a silent taunt that echoed my own guilt.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the microphone. My voice cracked as I began to speak, the words spilling out in a disjointed stream. I struggled to reclaim my authority, but with each passing moment, my grip on sanity slipped further. The congregation’s expressions shifted from curiosity to concern, then to alarm. Their faith faltered under the weight of my unraveling composure.

Hoseok’s gaze remained fixed, a dark star in a sea of light, drawing me inexorably towards his gravitational pull. My voice faltered, becoming increasingly erratic, reflecting the chaos within. The church fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rustling of the congregation’s uneasy shifting. I felt every eye on me, their silent judgment a palpable force.

My final words came out as a barely coherent murmur, a defeated whisper lost in the oppressive silence. I stumbled away from the pulpit, my mind a tempest of confusion and dread. As I retreated from the glaring scrutiny of the congregation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stumbling towards some dark, inevitable reckoning. Hoseok’s gaze followed me, a constant, unsettling presence as I fled the sanctuary.

I collapsed into the shadows behind the altar, my breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the oppressive silence of the church. The darkness around me felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, threatening to suffocate me. Hoseok's eyes lingered in my mind, their haunting intensity a constant reminder of the sin and torment that had become my existence. The certainty of my spiraling downfall felt inescapable, and every breath I took seemed to deepen my dread.

The pews had emptied in an instant, leaving the room cloaked in a suffocating silence. My heart pounded as I watched Hoseok move toward me. The man before me was no longer the mortal guise he had once worn; his true form emerged, dark and unnervingly compelling. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a shadowed hunger that quickened my pulse with a mix of terror and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Y/N.” His voice, soft and reverent, seemed to carry a sacramental weight that sent an icy shiver down my spine. There was a truth hidden in those syllables, a meaning only he understood. As his nearness intensified, confusion and fear danced across my features. His calm, deliberate hand cradled my cheek, the touch both tender and overwhelming. The heat of my skin seemed to beckon to him, an invitation that terrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

"You're so lovely," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that barely masked the wild intensity in his eyes. His touch guided me backward with a grace that felt almost otherworldly. The church seemed to dissolve around us, melting away into a space that was unsettlingly familiar—a fragment of my life from New York. The red brick of the two-story house brought a strange, bittersweet comfort, like a fragment of a life I had once known. It calmed my racing heart with its eerie familiarity. He led me to the front door, his touch both comforting and possessive.

The lock yielded effortlessly, and as we crossed the threshold, the gravity of the situation settled like a stone in my stomach. The house, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with a menacing intimacy. 

"So perfectly lovely," he murmured again as he closed the door behind us. I stumbled back, my nerves crackling with an unsettling energy. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something darker and more confusing. A part of me ached for normalcy, for escape, while another part was drawn to him with a desperate, confusing need. The line between terror and an inexplicable, forbidden desire blurred beyond recognition. I clung to the last shreds of my sanity, even as I felt myself unraveling under the weight of my own conflicted emotions.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of breathlessness and an unspoken longing. My heart pounded with a confusing blend of fear and desire. It was as if clarity had returned to me for a fleeting moment, yet I was still tethered to the confusion Hoseok had woven into my days. His promises of relief had begun to erode the pain, even as they wrapped around me like a vice. I remembered the dreams he'd planted in my mind, their seductive whispers blurring my sense of reality.

"I thought you might feel more at ease here," he said softly, his tone smooth and soothing as he followed me through the cluttered living room. Each backward step I took seemed to draw him closer, his presence an inescapable shadow. "Do you like it?"

I hesitated, glancing around at the artifacts of my past—family photos, treasured mementos, relics of a life that now felt so distant. The room was a museum of a future slipping away from me, and Hoseok's eyes seemed intent on taking it all. "Yes, I do," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. The room, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a stage for his dark play.

"I'd like a drink," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. I clung to the pretense of normalcy, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a flicker of my old self. "Is there anything here? Surely you would... like one... as well."

Hoseok, having long since discarded any pretense of humanity, closed the distance between us with unsettling swiftness. His movements were almost too fluid, his presence too intense. His hands, warm and steady, framed my face with a possessive grace, his gaze fixed on the pulse in my neck, the rich, inviting blood beneath my skin.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet, innocent little lamb." His voice, a velvety murmur, sent a shiver down my spine. His touch, trailing down to my neck, felt both magnetic and maddening. His eyes lingered on my flesh with a hunger that was almost palpable, a craving that seemed to consume him as much as it did me.

I trembled in his embrace, my conflicting desires mirrored in his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, my breath warm and trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he encircled my waist, his touch moving possessively lower, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. The tension between fight and flight heightened the charged atmosphere, leaving me both desperate and disoriented.

His eyes traced the flush of my lips, a reflection of the flush between my legs. The scent of my arousal mingled with my anxious heartbeat, a call to the beast inside him. His senses seemed overwhelmed by the promise of my warmth, the floral sweetness of my skin, and the earthy musk of my desire.

"You don't want... a drink?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the situation, to find a shred of reason amid the chaos of my emotions.

"Oh yes, Y/N. I very much desire a... drink." His smile was amused, his lips hovering just above mine. The taste of his breath, mingling with his tantalizing scent, sparked a deep, primal hunger within me. I was alive with all these unfulfilled needs, caught between an overwhelming desire and a paralyzing fear.

I inhaled shakily, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "What... would you like?" The question was a desperate plea for clarity, a tenuous grasp at the last vestiges of control in a world that had become a tumultuous blur of lust and dread.

A low laugh rumbled in Hoseok’s throat as he brushed his lips over mine, savoring the teasing trace of my flavor. "I want you, Y/N. I want to drink you." His honesty was laced with a raw, consuming need, a plea that mirrored the chaotic mix of longing and fear surging through me. It was clear he had no intention of letting me escape—not now. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth, and his body pressed against mine, making his heat seep through every layer of fabric that separated us.

I trembled, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The scents of my home—the cheap cotton sheets, synthetic pillows, and lingering traces of my perfume—led him with a haunting familiarity. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me with a purposeful stride, and placed me gently at the foot of my bed. The moonlight offered only a weak shield against the encroaching darkness that seemed to swallow us whole.

My heart raced, feeling like a delicate butterfly trapped in a predatory web. As he dropped his coat to the floor and drew me into a deep kiss, my earlier uncertainty dissolved into a raw, electric need. Each touch of his fingers against my body made me shiver, a mix of anticipation and dread coiling tightly within me.

The bed was unmade, its disarray a silent testament to my disordered state. His scent lingered in the tangled sheets and blankets as he lowered me onto them. My sweat-dampened palms gripped his hair, my fingers exploring the nape of his neck and shoulders. The buttons on his shirt came undone beneath my trembling hands, my desire growing bolder despite the icy grip of fear that clenched at my chest. His groan as his teeth grazed my throat made me arch my hips, pressing closer, driven by a need I couldn't fully understand.

My clothes fell away under his hands, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His eyes devoured every curve of my body, his gaze as palpable as his touch. His mouth descended on mine, hungry and insatiable, and I was enveloped by him, lost in a swirling tempest of our shared desire. His touch became a language, one that read my body with an intimate knowledge I was helpless to resist.

As he explored my secret places, my soft sighs turned into desperate pleas. His searing touch brought goosebumps to my skin, but I pressed closer, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving me. I was caught between wanting more and the creeping dread of losing myself entirely.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a dark promise. "I want to consume you." His words were a growl, a warning wrapped in seductive desire.

"Yes, I want you to. Do it. Take me," I panted, clutching at his shirt sleeve. My body spoke louder than words, arching upwards in desperate need. I knew I didn't fully understand what I was asking for, but the awareness was drowned out by the intensity of my longing.

His hands covered my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples. I gasped, pushing closer as his mouth found each tip, his low growl sending shivers through me. My heart raced beneath his lips, the rush of blood whispering of more delights to come. I arched again, my body twisting off the bed, craving more.

His mouth sucked at my nipple, his tongue flicking to heighten my pleasure. His thigh pressed between mine, the fabric of his jeans rasping over my nakedness, igniting a desperate heat. I moaned and bucked against him, my fingers digging into his arms as I convulsed beneath him, reaching the peak of my desire. The exhilaration of the moment was punctuated by the fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent reminder that I was teetering on the brink of something both irresistible and terrifying.

The climax left me gasping, trembling, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming need. Each wave of pleasure only heightened my fear, and my body’s reaction seemed to betray my mind's desperate protests. His touch, relentless and insistent, found a rhythm that both seduced and terrified me. I cried out, unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips, but a part of me wanted to resist.

I tried to pull away, my hand grasping his wrist with a frantic intensity. "What... what are you doing to me…?" My voice was a ragged whisper, trembling with a blend of confusion and fear.

He looked at me with a dark, hungry smile, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire. "Y/N, don’t lie to yourself," he said softly, his fingers curling in ways that made my body shudder. "You’re not overwhelmed. Your body is telling me you want this. You’re close to coming again. I can feel it."

My protests dissolved into incoherent moans as his touch stimulated a spot deep within me. The pleasure was a cruel paradox, blurring the line between ecstasy and dread. I could barely think, my mind clouded by the intensity of his actions.

"No, Hoseok, it’s too much," I whimpered, struggling to catch my breath. "I can’t..."

His mouth moved to mine, his lips teasing, his breath warm against my skin. "You’re a beautiful little liar," he murmured. "It’s not too much. You crave this. You know you do. Beg for it."

The force of his command broke through my haze of desire. "Please, Hoseok...," I gasped, my will crumbling under his dominance. My words felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging. "Please, just... take me."

His satisfaction was palpable, a dangerous hunger in his eyes. His touch grew more urgent, driving me to the brink of madness. I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body’s response only seemed to draw him closer.

The moment of his thrust was jarring, a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me. My body reacted instinctively, my hips rising to meet him even as my mind struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. The intense pleasure was intermingled with a profound fear, a dread of losing myself completely.

His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as though he were chasing an elusive climax. I was limp in his arms, my breathing ragged, torn between an unbearable desire and an escalating terror.

Despite my growing fear, I clung to him, my hands fumbling for some semblance of control. My kisses were desperate, seeking to anchor myself amidst the chaos. His touch was relentless, and every stroke seemed to heighten the conflict within me.

He pressed closer, his hands exploring with a possessive intensity. My body’s reactions were at odds with my thoughts, creating a tumultuous storm of sensation and fear. My mind raced, grappling with the realization of what was happening, but the pleasure was so consuming that it blurred the line between consent and coercion.

As the moment approached, I felt his breath on my neck, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his seductive veneer. The final act was a blur, my fear mingling with an overwhelming rush of sensation.

I was a walking paradox—caught between heaven and hell, life and death, sin and redemption. His presence was a fiery furnace, consuming me with the heat of stolen life he had been deprived of for so long. My body clenched around him, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to drive him to the edge of his sanity. His pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that painted the world in a chaotic blaze of colors.

“Hoseok, please…” I whispered, my voice a fragile breath against the overpowering cacophony of sensations. I wasn’t sure if my plea was for him to stop or to continue, a desperate cry from a place deep within me that I couldn’t fully comprehend. My fear was a gnawing presence, clawing at the edges of my desire, but the confusion of what I wanted and what I was willing to accept blurred together.

His eyes were dark with a twisted satisfaction as he sensed the last of my climax and my blood draining from me. The thought of taking me to the brink of death both exhilarated and haunted him. His grip tightened, and with a guttural snarl, he pulled away from my neck, his fangs retracting with a mixture of frustration and reluctant restraint. The rush of his thirst roared inside him, but he forced himself to temper his need.

I was an indulgence he wouldn’t be denied again, a forbidden pleasure he was determined to claim. He gently laid me back on the disheveled sheets, my heartbeat weak and fluttering. He licked the last drops of blood from my skin, his breath ragged and uneven. Each touch was deliberate, sealing the wounds with a final, lingering caress—a practical necessity for a demon who wanted to savor every part of me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low, dark promise that vibrated through my core. “You are mine, Y/N. From now until death claims you, until I claim you.” His breath was warm and heavy against my face. My eyelids fluttered, barely able to focus, but his words penetrated my haze. “If any other man dares to touch you, I will tear him apart. Remember this, my beautiful little lamb. Remember who you belong to.”

“Hoseok,” I murmured, my voice a faint echo of surrender. His satisfaction was palpable, a twisted delight in my obedience and submission. He rose and slipped out of the room, leaving me tangled in sheets and blankets. From across the street, hidden in the shadows, he watched and listened, his gaze a persistent weight on my fragile state.

As dawn’s first light crept through the blinds, it painted the room in a sickly, eerie glow. I lay amidst the tangled sheets, each twist revealing new bruises and bite marks—a grotesque map of the night’s events etched into my skin. The aftermath was a haunting blend of pleasure and torment, an unsettling reminder of what had transpired.

Hoseok’s presence lingered in the room like a shadow that refused to lift. The darkness he brought with him clung to the corners, an inescapable reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. My mind, once a storm of fear and confusion, now spun in a twisted acceptance—a deranged serenity that felt as liberating as it was unsettling.

The door creaked open like the groan of an old house settling into its own despair. Hoseok reappeared, his eyes still gleaming with that predatory glow, but now softened by an unsettling tenderness. He moved towards me with a deliberate grace, each step imbued with a dark reverence that made my heart pound with a blend of fear and reluctant desire.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that slithered across the room. “Do you understand now? You are mine, every inch of you.”

I looked up at him, my smile a grotesque reflection of the twisted contentment that had taken root in me. It was not a smile of joy or freedom but a shadowy acknowledgment of a reality I could no longer escape. My old life had withered into obscurity, replaced by the suffocating reality Hoseok had imposed upon me.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. “I belong to you.”

The truth of my submission felt like a heavy, warm blanket, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight. Despite the enormity of what I had given up—my freedom, my chance to reclaim any semblance of my old life—there was an undeniable satisfaction in surrendering wholly to him. The pain and loss had twisted into a perverse form of fulfillment, filling the void in my chest with a dark semblance of love.

Hoseok’s smile widened, a dark curve that spoke of unyielding possession. He reached out, his hand caressing my cheek with a gentleness that clashed violently with the ferocity of his claim. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls bore witness to my surrender.

“You will never leave me,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine with an unbreakable determination. “You are mine, forever.”

I nodded, the movement small and almost imperceptible, but it was enough. It was a surrender, a relinquishment of my will to the dark force that was Hoseok. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt my resolve melt away, my body becoming a canvas for his power, intermingling with the strange warmth of our shared connection.

As his darkness enveloped me, I felt a disturbing sense of belonging. In the shadows of the night, under his control, my fears and desires tangled together, creating a new reality that was both terrifying and intoxicating. In that moment, I understood there was no turning back. I was his, bound in body and soul by the twisted threads of fate and desire.

Hoseok’s eyes softened as he pulled me close, his cold skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my own body. His embrace was a strange sanctuary, a place where I felt both ensnared and cherished. My mind, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, had slipped into a state of blissful madness. In Hoseok’s dark embrace, I discovered a twisted joy that defied all rational thought.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his breath cold against my ear. “We are bound now, Y/N. Forever.”

His words were a chilling promise that resonated through the marrow of my bones, a haunting echo that left me trembling uncontrollably. I clung to him, my grip a mix of desperate need and profound terror, as a disturbing form of happiness took root in the darkest corners of my mind. The loss of my old life, the sacrifice of everything I had once held dear, seemed like a fevered dream compared to the unsettling contentment I felt in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed, I looked at Hoseok with a gaze that was both adoring and disturbingly fractured. The vibrant world I had once known had dissolved into a distant memory, replaced by a nightmarish existence defined by the twisted love and passion we shared. My heart swelled with a love so profound it overshadowed any lingering regret, even as my mind spiraled further into chaos.

Hoseok’s final words were a chilling promise wrapped in disturbing tenderness. “Remember, Y/N,” he whispered softly, his voice a ghostly caress in the dim light. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.”

As the door creaked shut behind him, the morning light seeping in like a reluctant witness, I was left enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the darkness we had forged together. My smile, twisted and unnatural, reflected the bizarre, unsettling happiness I had found in the abyss. I was forever bound to the night, my soul tangled in the shadows of Hoseok’s dark desires.

The room seemed to breathe with the remnants of his presence, each corner cloaked in an oppressive stillness that mirrored the void he had filled within me. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of fragmented thoughts that raged in my mind. Now, there was only the echo of his words, the haunting promise of a future forever intertwined with his darkness.

I lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of our twisted union, my body marked by the evidence of his possession. Each bruise, each bite mark was a grotesque map of the new life I had been forced into. The pain was now a distant echo, overshadowed by the profound and disturbing contentment that gnawed at my chest—a contentment born of both surrender and madness.

As the minutes ticked by and the morning light grew stronger, I found myself replaying his final words in my mind, my thoughts fracturing with each repetition. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.” The truth of those words reverberated through me like a haunting mantra, a binding contract signed with my very essence, even as my grip on reality slipped further away.

There was no turning back, no reclaiming the life I had once known. I was irrevocably his, a willing participant in the dark dance we had begun. The thought brought a grotesque smile to my lips, a smile that spoke of a happiness found in the shadows, a contentment born of surrender and madness.

At least, I wanted to believe it was madness alone that made me forget how afraid I was.

October 31, 2024

The house had become an enigmatic beast, its former guise of normalcy utterly transformed. From the street, it looked like any other home—silent and shadowy against the midnight sky. But within its walls, it was something else entirely. The shutters were clamped shut, keeping out any unwelcome glimmers of daylight. The curtains, heavy with dust, obscured the outside world, making everything inside a surreal, dreamlike blur.

Within this labyrinth of darkness, the house seemed like a twisted echo of a familiar nightmare. The air was thick with the mingling scents of old incense and stale dreams, creating a heavy, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Flickering candlelight cast eerie, jittery shadows that danced and twisted, as if mocking my attempts at normalcy. Silence pressed down on me, almost alive in its oppressive weight.

Days blurred into one another, each indistinguishable from the next in a fog of disorientation. Hoseok’s routines had become my own, though I couldn’t quite remember how or when they had taken over. My existence revolved around small tasks—cooking, cleaning, and performing acts of devotion—that had evolved into a kind of ritualistic pattern. It was as though each action was a silent offering to the enigmatic darkness that had enveloped our lives.

When I glanced in the mirror, the person staring back was a ghostly apparition of my former self. My face, serene to the point of being unsettling, bore a look of eerie contentment. I was a wraith, drifting through my days with a confusing mix of dread and satisfaction.

As night fell, the house came alive with an almost palpable energy. Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming, filling the space with his dark, commanding aura. His arrival was always marked by the ritualistic locking of doors, a subtle reminder of his control. The sensations of pleasure and pain that accompanied his touch had become a surreal symphony, a haunting reminder of the path I had chosen.

One particularly cold night, as the moonlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, Hoseok and I stood together, looking out into the void. The world outside was a distant blur, an irrelevant expanse that felt disconnected from my reality. The sky stretched above us, a vast, unyielding black, reflecting the emptiness of my existence. We were bound together by something primal and deep, though its true nature remained elusive.

Time inside these walls seemed to warp and distort. The house, once a symbol of normalcy, had turned into a crypt of our peculiar existence. The outside world had faded into obscurity, replaced by the certainty of Hoseok’s presence. I had found a strange form of happiness in this eternal night, where the terror of the outside world had been replaced by the dark, enveloping comfort of Hoseok’s embrace.

As I settled into my favorite worn leather chair, the house seemed to pulse with anticipation for Hoseok’s return. My knitting supplies were spread around me, with a scarf for Hoseok in progress. I hummed softly, my heart beating with a sense of calm and eager expectancy, as if I were awaiting a beloved dream to resume.

I replayed our last conversation in my mind, Hoseok’s words lingering like a haunting melody. “An old friend is coming for a visit,” he’d said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “She’s good at dealing with werewolves.”

I couldn’t suppress a bubbling laugh, the sound rising unbidden. “Isn’t she the one Namjoon’s obsessed with?”

His kiss on my temple had been darkly tender, sending shivers of pleasure through me. “Clever girl. It will be fun.”

I teased him playfully. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

His laughter resonated through me, sending a thrill down my spine. “When have I ever been nice, lamb?”

“Nice to me,” I’d replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Very, very nice.”

Settling back into the leather chair, the hearth’s flickering light casting long, shifting shadows, I resumed my knitting with a serene focus. Each stitch felt like a small act of devotion, a testament to my growing obsession. I hummed softly, my heart a silent witness to the peace I had found in this twisted, eternal night. The lines between fear and love, sanity and madness, had merged into a strange, intoxicating tapestry that I no longer fully understood.

Hoseok said I was perfect. His praise was a balm to my disoriented soul.

I smiled, pushing away any lingering doubts about my sanity. I was fine. I was perfect.

Pager Codes:

110 307 - Go To Bar

209 - On My Way

08 - OK

420 - You’re in trouble

3011 - Be Careful

221 - Where are you?

419 - I don’t understand

100 - Come Back

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[spookyserenades]

Sanctity - Chapter Two

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 20.3k

Sanctity Masterlist

Sanctity Playlist

TO JOIN THE TAGLIST PLEASE CLICK HERE!

Ko-fi 💜

WELCOME BACK! I love you all. I'd like to highlight some warnings here for this chapter straight off the bat: there are major dub-con moments in this chapter of sexual nature. Multiple character deaths, suicidal thoughts, abuse, and quite a bit of graphic gory scenes are included in this update. Please know this is a work of HORROR FICTION as well! This got especially macabre because it's like ice age in New England LMAO. I hope you all enjoy this update and kisses from yours truly, Dana <3

WARNING! There are instances of DEATH, gore and dubious consent. This work of fiction does not remotely reflect members of BTS in reality. The boys are written to be toxic in Sanctity (yandere). Please be warned if this is triggering to you.

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

How much time passed, Y/N did not, nor would she ever, know. Bit by bit, the first thing that returned to her was her sense of smell– something thick and smoky filling her nostrils, maybe an offertory incense blend from the chapel. The second sense was her hearing, and still expecting the Sanctuary’s bell tower to wake her up, her body went stiff when she heard old-timey music and several different male voices. Shit– the next thing she was aware of was her recent memories. 

Eyes flying open, she was laying down on some kind of upholstered settee, still wearing the velvet mini dress from dinner, which was almost hiked up around her hips. Horrified and woozy from both her blood being drained, multiple glasses of wine and liquor, and her state of exposure, she sat up abruptly. Staring down at her freshly polished toes, bare and lacking the fancy heels she was wearing earlier, Y/N froze at the sound of her name being called while she pulled her dress back down, her mind jumping to a conclusion that one of them actually touched her while she was unconscious. 

“Finally awake? You’d think after that meal, you’d at least be able to stand on your feet once Seokjin bit you. He hardly took anything,” Jeongguk approached her first, holding a cue stick and staring down at her with a smirk. He had ditched his sports jacket, the first few buttons on his white shirt pulled free and his tie hanging limply around his neck.

Scrambling to a fully seated position, Y/N saw that her shoes were nowhere to be seen, and she had been carried by someone into the billiard’s room adjoining the space where they had dinner. Perhaps one of the vampires removed her shoes so she couldn’t use the stilettos as a pointed weapon. Sick to the back teeth of being teased and manipulated, especially when she felt her neck and wrist throbbing and saw how perfectly healthy Jeongguk had become after drinking her blood, her eyes narrowed nearly shut. 

“I’m sure it was the fucking wine glass he slit my wrist into was what prevented me from having normal goddamn footing,” Y/N fumed as best she could with a completely dried-out throat, Jeongguk’s smirk widening and showing his teeth at the outburst. 

“What a filthy mouth you’ve got, ma chérie,” Hoseok teased through laughter, all while leaning over a massive pool table and aiming his cue at a white ball. The new nickname from the ex-pirate, whatever language it came from, had her feeling belittled and repulsed– even if Hoseok’s drawl was soulful and spellbinding. It was as if in her slumber, she had managed to grow an even stronger spine. 

“My name’s Y/N, not whatever you just called me. Not pet, not ‘little girl,’ not ‘dove’. If you’re all going to torture me, at least afford me the favor of not patronizing me,” Y/N stood, making sure to make pointed eye-contact with both Hoseok and Jimin; the latter of which was lazily draped on another settee across the room with a cordial glass and a lit cigar. 

“Ah, true colors. I hoped you were as meek as you pretended to be yesterday afternoon, but it seems my initial suspicions were correct. How tiring,” Seokjin was by the fireplace, not sparing her a glance as the flames illuminated his side profile. He appeared to be the only one with his suit still flawlessly intact, one of his hands buried in the pocket of his slacks while the other braced his weight on the marble mantle. 

“Who carried me in here?” Y/N ignored Seokjin, trying to find her shoes. For some reason, her bare feet on the marble had her feeling more vulnerable than her disheveled dress. 

“No one violated you, girl,” Seokjin snapped, all while ignoring her request to remove pet names from his vocabulary. The fog of Jeongguk entering her mind and offering up her secret thoughts to the eldest vampire made Y/N wince, spurring her foolish outburst to go beyond the reach of her control.

“That wasn’t my question,” Y/N’s hands balled into fists, so blind with rage and the instinct to battle for her life that she snapped. “Stay out of my head, you!” 

Y/N all but spat at Jeongguk while pointing at him, the young vampire still wearing that infuriating grin, Y/N storming past him with her feet slapping against the Italian marble to confront Seokjin. Again, a part of her was screaming that Jeongguk could be her kin as he watched, with his youthful appearance– the only thing that had her storming by was the demonic color of his irises. 

At first, she was blasting by the youngest vampire and barreling towards Seokjin, however, a palm covered in buttery leather wrapped around the base of her throat that stopped her in her tracks effectively, harshly. Met with cold, glowing red eyes, Y/N could hardly crane her neck up at Namjoon towering over her, Seokjin sighing from behind Namjoon. 

“If you must know, pest, I brought you in here. Watch your tongue and know your place,” Namjoon’s fingers flexed against the sides of her throat, dark hair in his eyes when Y/N felt the rush of blood in her arteries frantically trying to find a place to go. Paired with the sting of the leather rubbing against Seokjin’s earlier bite, Y/N heeded Namjoon’s warning and nodded as best she could just so he would let her go. 

“Did you not see what Namjoon-ah could do during dinner? If his power can affect Jimin that strongly, what do you think it can do to you?” Seokjin cut in softly, snapping his fingers once. With the sharp sound that contrasted the vampire’s dulcet tone, Namjoon released Y/N’s throat immediately, leaving her to double over and gasp for breath. “Let’s make one thing clear. You can curse at us as much as you please, but do not think you are above being punished for rash actions. I can promise you, I am not a merciful man– Namjoon-ah even less so.”

Y/N felt defeat again, the spark of rebellion in her extinguished thoroughly. The shiny black shoes and pressed pants in front of her seemed blurry, Namjoon towering over her like a steel wall. When she could straighten up again, Y/N flinched at the vampire’s expression: hateful, but the mean smile on his face created sweet little dimples on his cheeks, which contradicted just about everything else about the vampire. His expression, in the best translation Y/N could come up with, was someone contemplating just how to tear another piece by piece with relish.

“Will you drain me dry like your last acolyte?” ​​Y/N rasped, addressing Seokjin but still staring straight at Namjoon, as if one small movement from her would have him lunging. 

Hearing Jimin’s light snickering from across the room did nothing but heighten Y/N’s  humiliation about being put in her place once more. Glancing at him, she spotted Yoongi in the corner, a sketchbook in his lap and apparently not paying any attention to the spectacle. Also disinterested was Taehyung, leafing through a newspaper and puffing on a cigar he was sharing with Jimin. 

“Maybe,” Seokjin hummed, letting Namjoon fall back into the shadows beside an old phonograph still playing age-weathered music. “Maybe not. Behave, and there’s no reason to fear for your life.”

“She wants to shorten her sentence, Seokjin,” Yoongi finally interjected, fingertips covered in inky charcoal. Darkly, Y/N thought that perhaps Yoongi might be the one with the most sense, and that wasn’t saying much. 

“Ever play pool, Y/N?” Hoseok asked suddenly, injecting enough snark into the girl’s name rolling off of his tongue to have her grimacing. 

“Doubt she’s ever even played checkers, Hoseok,” Jeongguk replied, yanking his tie dangling over his shoulder and tossing it on the floor. While leaning over the table to take his own shot, Y/N’s vision focused on the lean, hard-muscled frame Jeongguk had: the thin button-down he had on strained against his toned arms and his sides as he lined up the pool cue between his index and middle fingers. Namjoon aside– there would be no way she could ever be a match to Jeongguk alone.  

“Is it permitted for me to retire now?” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, muscles in her legs twitching when the petty side of her personality threatened to theatrically curtsy. Distantly, Jeongguk’s mouth corner curled up in amusement– catching the mental image she conjured.

“Say goodnight first, won’t you now?” Jimin trilled, voice curling seductively over the mosaic ceiling, and right when Y/N thought that she had recovered from Namjoon’s chokehold, Jimin was casting another deeply-rooted spell on her. “Taehyung has a question, don’t you?”

Taehyung. The one who so casually dared to impersonate someone close to her, to pretend to be Joseph. While she dreaded nothing more than even looking at the very vampire, Jimin’s roots were so quickly penetrating her bones she found with horror that she was no more than a puppet on a string for him. 

Not even seconds later, Y/N was stumbling over her own bare feet to get to the seating area where the two young vampires were– Yoongi still off to the side, Taehyung lowering his newspaper and passing the lit cigar to Jimin. While hyper aware of Jimin’s hold on her, Y/N’s attention was conquered by Taehyung’s intense, stony expression. Clearing his throat, the shiny gel that was previously taming his midnight waves during dinner was cracking, leaving piecey curls hanging in his face. 

“Tell me, now. Was my answer sufficient?” Taehyung began, tracing his pointer finger over his moistened lower lip, almost cherry red in color thanks to her blood affording him a complexion. 

Y/N’s eyebrows knit in confusion, every nerve in her body pulsing with a dim throb the longer Jimin kept her docile and hypnotized. 

“Huh?” Y/N’s eyelids were heavy, so she found herself batting her eyelashes more frequently than she normally did. “I didn’t ask you anything.”

“Master Taehyung was referring to his reply to you during dinner. Was his reply more or less something ‘Joseph’ would say? Was it enough, dove?”

 Jimin was staring at his nails, one of his trim shoulders slipping out from under his loose shirt collar, and Y/N– to her mortification– immediately thought that the garment had become quite useless, so why was Jimin even bothering to keep it on at all? To deepen her mortification, an amused snicker coming from Jeongguk had her wishing the stained glass lamp above him would come loose and sever his head from his shoulders. Jeongguk’s laughter only became louder when reading her murderous thoughts, the sound of it lively and boyish– not the laughter of a lethal creature. 

Y/N paused, rewinding her memory to dinner. At that time, she really believed that her friend Joseph had been permitted to visit her. Like a bucket of glacial water dumped over her head when realizing her own naivety, she also realized it wasn’t just Jeongguk who could reach into her mind– Jimin could do it, Seokjin could do it and share the way into her head with everyone else. Jeongguk wasn’t laughing anymore. 

“Joe– oh. You, I suppose. You said something about never forgetting me and writing frequently, no?” Y/N, under the puppet strings Jimin was using to keep her steady, was able to study Taehyung’s face with rapt interest; her rational self locked away in some dark corner of her mind. “I think that’s when the coherent part of me sensed something wrong. Joseph hates writing letters, and he’d never talk so sentimentally. Yeah, we were close, but like cat-and-mouse siblings.”

“Still, hyung. Jeongguk mentioned he could not accurately understand the girl’s thoughts at that moment. It seems… peculiar,” Namjoon’s voice, all velvet, filled the room, addressing the eldest vampire still watching the flames in the fireplace. 

“Peculiar? No. The most sound theory is that her thoughts were too animal and stupid for Jeongguk to hear, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin wasn’t fond of entertaining mysteries or anything that required him to put time and energy into, particularly if the subject matter surrounded a human being. “Forget it. We always deal with issues promptly, and I’m not deeming the girl’s slow mind an issue yet.”

“I suppose I can’t blame myself for not knowing what your acquaintance would say word for word. Jeongguk only had time to go through a handful of memories.”

Y/N didn’t like Taehyung’s dry, holier-than-thou attitude. He had zero decency to look her in the eye, rather looking through her and down his nose. Y/N sensed he was the type of man who had never heard the word ‘no’ in regards to anything. 

“Things have to happen in a timely manner, Y/N, you see? Everything is about timing– that is something I’ve learned again and again– Jeongguk had about half a second to comb through your mind before you would dissolve into complete hysterics. Complete hysteria from you, you’d have a drunk pirate giving you something worse to cry about,” Taehyung continued, giving Hoseok a deliberate, uninterested look when mentioning the ‘drunk pirate’. Hoseok wasn’t paying attention, too busy chalking up his pool cue to bother participating in the conversation. 

For a moment, all that Y/N could hear was a whooshing in her ears as Jimin’s hypnosis began to withdraw, her body promptly trembling with exhaustion as she stood before Taehyung. His tan suit, perfectly pressed, complimented his skin tone now that it was darker, his complexion probably resembling the healthiest peak of his human life. The gray veins over his temples were gone, and there were moles here and there splattered across his face. 

“That’s all… hmm, Jimin. Why don’t you call up to the second floor to make sure the human’s chambers are prepared for the night,” Taehyung gave Y/N one last cursory glance before plucking up his newspaper again. 

Y/N didn’t even hear Jimin waltz his way to an old-fashioned intercom system, murmuring something seductive into the device while his shirt began to pool around his elbows and expose nearly his entire chest and back. She only tuned in when she felt bizarre about standing in front of Taehyung so clearly dismissing her, a spark of hope at the idea of the privacy of her bedroom making her abruptly turn on her bare heels. 

“Awww, Juliana. That won’t do. Make sure her sheets are heated, too,” Jimin purred, Y/N getting the feeling that he was purposefully trying to prolong her time spent in the billiard’s room. “There will be a frost, come morning…”

Y/N separated herself from Taehyung’s proximity, trying to edge her way to the closest door, but unfortunately it was the one that was being watched by Namjoon still cloaked in the shadows. As she tried to look for an escape while hoping Jeongguk was distracted to notice her plotting, Y/N silently began to shuffle sideways.

Not that she got very far– as soon as Y/N reached a leather ottoman halfway to an unguarded door, she yelped when she lost feeling in her legs and promptly crumpled onto the piece of furniture. Her arms tried to brace her fall, but those limbs, too, were limp and refusing her brain’s command to move herself. 

“Nngh, ow! W-what?! What’s happening to me?” Y/N panicked, voice shrill and bouncing around the lofty room. Her body was completely limp, unable to flinch away even when someone began to arrange her legs by parting them, her dress riding up the back of her thighs again. 

Ascertaining who was touching her sans-permission was impossible, due to the fact that her cheek was squished against the ottoman and her line of sight was limited to a glass case filled with cigars. Humiliation licked Y/N’s skin with white-hot heat, no doubt in her mind the scrap of lace covering her modesty was somewhat on display as she was shaped to be bent over the ottoman. 

“Stop, s-stop, please. I can’t move—”

“Silenzio,” a deep, gritty voice was mere inches from her ear, the foreign word close enough to silence for her to get the hint. The record that was playing on the gramophone began to crackle, the needle scratching the label and needing to be flipped. “Stay put.”

“Like she can help it. You’ve paralyzed her,” Hoseok scoffed, trying to hide the fact that he was getting off on beating Jeongguk at their game of pool. It was looking like Hoseok would be driving Jeongguk’s Mercedes around town come morning. 

Paralyzed. Y/N had not a semblance of an idea of what she had done to cause offense to Yoongi, who was carding her hair over her shoulders methodically, but all she could do was lay there helplessly. His fingertips were warm on her forearm when he draped tresses over her waist in a sensual position, even going as far as to adjust how her fingers were splayed over her hip. 

“Master… master Y-yoongi…?” Y/N’s breath came out choppy, her diaphragm somewhat crushed thanks to her awkward weight distribution against the ottoman. 

“Noisy,” Yoongi murmured to himself, detached. Rolling his eyes, Hoseok set his cue down, approaching Yoongi and his current model with his hands on his hips. 

“If she’s so noisy, paralyze her face. You’re a complainer who hates solutions,” Hoseok watched while Yoongi gingerly stretched one of the girl’s arms out so it was hanging off the furniture.

Yoongi would go on and on about how he was capturing ‘yearning’, but to a vampire (and former buccaneer) who stole art for value, the girl was being positioned to get fucked against the ottoman. Pushing a hand through his hair, Hoseok snorted to himself. Now that he had a sufficient, consistent nutrient source, he could visit the girls at the cabaret again. It had been far too long since a woman had been under him and his mercy. 

“To paralyze the face would make the subject unworthy of being painted,” Yoongi replied plainly, like it was a practiced response, and with emphasis on his words the artist ever so slightly turned the girl’s head with a loose grip on her jaw. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and pretty crystalline tears gathered in her eyelashes, eyeliner smudging perfectly. It was like Yoongi’s lucky day. 

“You’re an odd–”

“Hoseok. Let Yoongi be done with it so she can leave,” Seokjin cut Hoseok off before he could start a cock fight. Jimin was already shivering with excitement at the idea of a dramatic altercation, and Seokjin caught it before he’d have to discipline him again. 

“You’re an odd immortal,” Hoseok ignored Seokjin, though physically, he retreated. That was good enough for Seokjin, who kept one eye on the younger vampire returning to his rum and billiard’s game. 

All the while, Y/N locked herself away in her own head. Perhaps, if she could reach some kind of meditative state, she could compartmentalize. The best she could do was focus on keeping her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the vampires for a second longer, and the sensation of tears dripping down her cheeks. 

“Are you resurrecting your proclivity for lewd portraiture, Yoongi?” Namjoon commented, straightening up at the sweet scent of hopeless tears, greedily soaking up the sight across the room. “That original collection of yours remains your finest work.” 

From where he was, he could see the arch of the girl’s back jutting her hips backwards, and in consequence, and the fleshy curves of her ass cheeks were just exposed enough to reveal lace between her legs. Namjoon, with amusement, knew that if he got just a little closer, he’d be able to smell her. 

“I wouldn’t coin that as lewd, Namjoon, just sloppy and lacking all of Yoongi’s former risk. It must have been some time since you have lain with a woman,” Jeongguk disagreed, aware that he was toeing a very thin line between a cold scoff from the elder vampire or experiencing his molten wrath. 

Namjoon, in a rare moment of mercy, hardened his expression, tearing his gaze from the apex of the acolyte’s thighs. The leverage that Jeongguk caught a perverted thought coming from Namjoon was enough, apparently. On the other hand, the youngest vampire was enjoying a morsel of information he pried out of the girl’s mind seconds prior all to himself, just for that moment: the acolyte did not mirror dirty thoughts that the coven was having. In fact, the more Jeongguk sifted through her memories, he realized with delight that she didn’t know the feeling of her own arousal– yet. Maybe Yoongi had observed that, keenly taking it upon himself to milk her confused, humiliated response. 

“Give Yoongi a month. He’ll have that acolyte stripped down completely and posing face down, ass up by then.”

Electric, enticing fear zapped through Y/N at the blithe, unflinching prediction that came from Seokjin out of the blue, and the scent of it triggered a heavy spill of lust to settle over the room. Jeongguk could feel it, and he knew his elders did too– though Seokjin was the picture of nonchalance. Jeongguk couldn’t think of a time when Seokjin preoccupied himself with pursuits of the flesh over the last century, therefore hearing him speak with plain vulgarity was jarring. 

“I’ll have to sit in on that session,” Jimin purred, hanging up the intercom with a grin. By then, he was aggravated with his infernal top, letting it fall from his elbows and pool to the floor in a heap.

In a flash, he was behind Yoongi, eyes sweeping over the charcoal sketch the elder vampire was working on. Yoongi’s hand moved so quickly across the paper, it was almost impossible to track. In fact, Yoongi had already sketched four different versions of the scene in front of him and used up an entire box of charcoal. Yoongi, with aggravated sigh, set his sketchbook down and tossed the empty box of charcoal across the room and into the roaring fire. Jimin, slyly, leafed through the sketches, comparing each to the actual model, a flirtatious impressed hum leaving his chest. 

“You should see these, dove. If you had wings, they’d be broken…” Jimin caught her eye, his posture stiffening at the tear her teeth made into her lower lip. He knew she was incredibly frightened, though he couldn’t help it, he wanted to up the intensity; the reward was far too tempting. Turning on the charm again, Jimin started to stalk towards her with one hand on his belt. 

“N-no!” Y/N whimpered pathetically, immediately thinking the worst when Jimin began to get closer. No matter how hard she tried to squeeze her thighs together, she couldn’t curl in on herself like she wanted to. “Oh, please–”

“‘If you had wings, they’d be broken’. God, is that how you made your fortune in theater and movies?”

“Hoseok, you still haven’t read Jimin’s plays? Or seen one of his films at the cinema?” Jeongguk spoke through chortles, really starting to feel the nourishment of the acolyte’s blood in his body. He felt alive again. 

“Usually sleep through ‘em, or I’m getting blow–”

“Yoongi, release her from Paralysis if you’re finished. Hoseok, head to the cabaret if you wish to keep drinking and whoring,” Seokjin finally moved away from the fire, his expensive loafers clicking against the floors. 

Jimin was only a few feet from Y/N, the vampire half-clothed and eager to rile her up a bit more before Seokjin could spoil the fun. To Jimin’s surprise, however, Y/N’s fear spiked acutely when Seokjin appeared, the eldest vampire kneeling beside her and blocking her view of him. With Seokjin so close, so suddenly, and fearing his status, Y/N’s tears came faster. 

“Please, just please! I just want to go upstairs! I d-don’t– I don’t want to…” Y/N broke down, and with Seokjin’s request to lift Paralysis, Yoongi watched as his power left her and the girl began to shake like a newborn fawn. Seokjin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Master S-seokjin, please, I want mmph–!”

Seokjin pressed his palm over the young acolyte’s mouth, half to shut her up, half to somewhat cover up the scent of her bloody lip. It was a charged situation– one he had complete control over, of course– but keeping the peace was important to Seokjin. 

It was abhorrent to him that he needed that nuisance of a little girl, one causing so much unrest, as he scanned the ruined makeup running down her cheeks. Though, the vitality thrumming through him and the rest of the coven was undeniable, thanks to her. Seokjin was about to call for the acolyte’s maids, lips dropping open, when she made things infinitely more dangerous. 

Since she had never been paralyzed by Yoongi, her body didn’t know how to come down from his influence. With her desperate pent up energy, unable to engage in fight or flight, once her shivering dissolved, Y/N’s limbs began jerking. With Seokjin’s hand still over her mouth, her back arched in order to get air to her crushed diaphragm, and instinctively, her thighs snapped shut. 

However, something unexpected struck through her when her legs pressed together, something she could only describe as warm and aching, and it caught her so off-guard that a strangled, confused moan left her lips and was muffled against Seokjin’s palm. A primal and unfamiliar urge had her wanting to chase that feeling, Seokjin’s surprised, wide eyes in front of her had the throb return, if not for a second– her hips squirming against the ottoman eagerly.

Studying him through watery eyes, Y/N felt like she needed to light a candle to Seokjin’s beauty, the jitteriness that came with Yoongi releasing her from paralysis causing her to seek out stability. Her index finger curled around Seokjin’s blazer cuff as if to anchor herself. It felt like minutes, but it was likely seconds, where every vampire in the room froze completely, not a whisper of sound following her muffled mew.

“Astonishing,” Taehyung broke the silence, setting his newspaper down and getting to his feet. Things took an interesting turn, for once. 

“Do not,” Seokjin commanded, but a breath though still firm. Y/N fidgeted, attempting to moisten her dry lips but only managing to give Seokjin’s palm an embarrassing kitten lick– which had him recoiling and pressing his hand more harshly against her face. “Control yourself, acolyte.”

Y/N didn’t know what that meant. Sure, the raw fear was still there, vehement hate flooding her body when Taehyung entered her line of sight, but the seductive drag of his fingertip tracing over her fragile shoulder blade elicited another unsure whimper.

“P-puh-mm,” Y/N switched to pleading again, wanting to jump off the great cliff where the mansion was settled beside more than ever. Seokjin’s gaze hardened, his throat bobbing. 

“Seokjin, come on. Look at her!” Hoseok was positively delighted, spotting arousal pulsing between her legs from miles away– not to mention smelling it. “Moaning and crying like a bitch in heat.”

“Enough,” Seokjin barked, though the demand was strangled.

Do not speak a word.

The eldest vampire’s voice cut through the fog in Y/N’s head urgently, and at once, he removed his hand from her face. With absence, he wiped the blood from her torn lip on his pristine pant leg, Y/N breathing heavily from her mouth now that it was free.

One word from you and I’ll leave you here with the young ones.

That was a dark enough threat from Y/N, though with mortification, she thinly whined at the thought of Seokjin making good on his promise– mistake. Bonelessly, she started to lift her torso from the ottoman, her skin hot and tacky, all while each vampire in the room tracked her every movement.

“Is she going to get sick?” Yoongi remarked with disgust, tucking his sketchbook away. He was decidedly ready to paint; and yes, it would be something to toy with the flustered acolyte, but capturing her misery would end up being more erotic to him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s feeling,” Jeongguk revealed blandly, smugly, leaning one of his trim hips against the billiards table. “She wants– probably you, Seokjin, to touch her, but she’s too dim to know that.”

“So all of that ‘purity’ propaganda about Sanctuary acolytes is true? They’re clueless virgins?” Hoseok had to swallow a great laugh, almost pitying the mortals.

“Just like the old days… Most girls had not the slightest idea what happened in the bedroom,” Jimin contributed to the conversation, an unsettling edge to his voice that had Y/N sniffling. 

Jeongguk began to fish around in her head more intensely, but Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot while her thighs squeezed together in pulses. Reading the acolyte’s thoughts, he hummed wickedly at the girl wondering what was so bad about being compared to the Virgin– the revered mother the Sanctuary worshipped. 

“She’s untouched,” Jeongguk revealed, Hoseok’s interest piquing sevenfold. Eyes glowing, Hoseok was standing beside Taehyung in a flash, a forearm resting on the younger vampire’s shoulder. Venom was flooding Hoseok’s mouth as soon as he caught a whiff of the wetness beginning to seep into the acolyte’s underwear, and Taehyung was thinking about all of the ways he could break her. 

Again, Y/N had no idea what the vampires were talking about. Nor did she know what was happening to her body, her skin sweaty and hyper-sensitive, and she couldn’t bear to look away from Seokjin. He looked like he was thinking very hard, red eyes sweeping over her body struggling to release what was building up inside of her. It took every ounce of strength she had left, but Y/N managed to struggle off of the ottoman, rocking backwards on her bare heels to a kneeling position. All the while, the finger curled around Seokjin’s jacket turned into a fistful of desperate fabric, the eldest vampire’s breath catching in shock over her sheer audacity.

“Help, it h-hurts,” Y/N whispered, throat dry. Beginning to come to the conclusion that coming down from Yoongi’s paralysis was what was making her feel so raw with nerves, she tried to plead with Seokjin despite his threat to leave her with the young vampires– the ones looking at her like she was dessert. “Master Seokj-jin, please, I want to–”

“Fuck?” Hoseok cut the acolyte off helpfully, filling in the blank that she was unaware existed. Things were spiraling out of control, and Hoseok was so entertained by Seokjin’s patience hanging by a thread that he decided to take things up a notch– perhaps finding out if he could elicit more of her slick to ruin her underwear. “A virgin begging for cock like a slut. Soaked pussy just from a few simple touches and words.”

The foreign, husky words from Hoseok had Y/N’s pulse quickening, humiliation licking her skin. To add to her mortification, she felt something wet rolling down one of her thighs, and when she looked down between her legs, she squeaked in alarm. With her free hand, shakily, her fingers swiped through the slick thinking it was sweat, but when she brought her hand up to take a closer look at filmy strings coating her digits, all hell broke loose. Seokjin cursed, sending out seven different mental commands– with additional forceful suggestions for staff that was still working– but even that wasn’t enough, so with a borderline bone-crushing embrace, Y/N was caged in his arms and as far away from the youngest vampires as possible. Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Jimin stared hungrily at the girl, trembling like a lamb, edible. 

“Hoseok, I told you if you wanted to fuck like a rutting animal, go see your whores,” Seokjin’s voice was loud, furious, and Y/N couldn’t breathe in his arms. Despite her acute fear and dislike for Seokjin, Y/N’s body reacted on its own, pressing backwards against his strong chest for protection. “Leave, Hoseok. Yoongi, this is your doing and there will be consequences. Remove the fledglings from the room. Go.”

There was no space to argue with Seokjin. His covenmates hadn’t seen Seokjin so enraged, not for decades, and before Jimin could pout and add fuel to the flames (or sink his teeth into the delicious acolyte), he was torn from the room with Yoongi’s grip around his wrist. One by one, in a split second, Yoongi collected the youngest vampires, and Hoseok was long out the door with the cabaret set as his destination. 

Once the immediate threats were gone, Seokjin all but shoved Y/N out of his reach, the girl caught by someone else before she could hit the floor. Nearly collapsing into his weight completely, leather gloves slipping over her dewy shoulders, Y/N at least knew who was touching her this time. That time, too, she realized she didn’t mind Namjoon touching her. After a prolonged period of time absorbed with Seokjin’s presence, Y/N was ashamed to admit that Namjoon could steal it effortlessly. Namjoon, like Seokjin, was infuriated; Y/N could tell by the way his jaw clenched dangerously. 

“Get her out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret,” Seokjin spoke through his teeth, but the volume of his demand was deadly quiet. The sound of it had a tingle rolling down Y/N’s spine, her skull still throbbing from Jeongguk sifting through her past, and Y/N thought that she might faint again. “Exercise restraint, Namjoon-ah.”

Surprise flickered in Namjoon’s eyes. Seokjin, normally, would have had him using Pain Illusion on the acolyte for her little stunt– even if she couldn’t help it. 

“Hyung?”

“I have calls to make. Take her upstairs,” Seokjin pushed a hand through his short choppy bangs, and he disappeared like he never was there in the first place.

Y/N winced when Namjoon tightened his hold on her with purpose, his expression turning rock-solid. The throb between her legs didn’t grow any weaker. Namjoon’s nostrils flaring, Y/N’s fear returned when a cold grin spread across the vampire’s face, his sharp fangs on display. However, if it weren’t for the fangs, Namjoon had one of the loveliest smiles in the world, and that broke Y/N’s heart, distantly. The vampire cocked his head and misread her train of thought.

“You’re absolutely terrified of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s head snapped up to make eye contact when Namjoon spoke, realizing her attention was lingering on the shape of his lips. Going rigid when the vampire stooped low, he got a firm hold of her naked calves. With one swift movement, Y/N was hoisted into the air and slung over Namjoon’s bulky shoulder. The immortal speed made her nauseous, a strangled sound coming from the back of her throat, one gloved hand squeezing the arm slung over his opposite shoulder, and the other cupped over the sensitive backs of her knees. Not allowing her to recover at all, Namjoon had the girl inside of her bedroom before she could take a breath. 

“Do not make me ask again, woman,” Namjoon cruelly dropped the girl from his hold only to pin her to a nearby wall by her hip. She groaned, Namjoon noting that if he applied just the slightest additional force, he could shatter her hip bone. 

“I need to s-sit down… where is N-nadia?” Y/N managed to get out, at war with how to answer him and praying furiously for someone to save her. She was having a primordial reaction to everything that had happened, and it was sapping the energy out of her. Namjoon snatched up one of her forearms in annoyance, the limb like a twig under his leather gloves. “No! Ow, no, I mean y-yes!”

Y/N could not take it anymore. She was hot, cold, contorting in pain and shivering with something else. She offered the truth. Sure, she was scared, but there was something else that was nameless to her. Was it… curiosity she felt?

“No? Let me offer you some advice,” Namjoon tsked, briefly wishing he could look into her mind like Jeongguk. “Don’t lie like that to Seokjin. Next time, he’ll have me skewer you.”

Y/N flinched, remembering the sword Namjoon had strapped to his back, and the fact that he was once commissioned to cut people down. His smile returned, scenting the dread pressing down on her. 

“See? Though, didn’t the butler tell you not to reveal your fear?” Namjoon ignored the venom that was pooling on his tongue, swallowing it quickly so he could keep up the taunts. Seokjin didn’t want to punish the human, but Namjoon wanted to. “Now we know what fear does to you.”

The girl was blinking at him, which had the immortal pausing. She was fixated on his mouth again, which caused a snarl to rip from behind his teeth. 

“What are you looking at? Are you so consumed by lust that your brain has melted?” Namjoon paired his words with a vicious yank of her arm, the hand on her hip moving to pinch her jaw. The back of her head hit the wall, Y/N crying out and completely powerless to self-preserve. “Tell me what you were staring at.”

“I don’t want to.”

Namjoon, in all his years of dealing with acolytes, had never encountered such a stubborn one. It had something dark possessing him, the thrum of her frightened pulse a stark contrast to the song her body was singing. Then, when he realized how close he had brought her wrist to his face, Namjoon caught the acolyte’s arousal still clinging to her fingers and acted on a baser desire that he hadn’t experienced in centuries. With one last pull, the acolyte’s fingers were in Namjoon’s mouth, the girl squealing in surprise.

“What are you doing?! That’s d-dirty,” Y/N cried, Namjoon’s wet tongue curling around her digits, his gaze still menacing and unfeeling. She dissolved on his palate, and with a quiet groan, Namjoon realized that her arousal tasted just as good as her blood. “I, hngh–”

Y/N focused back on Namjoon’s lips, which is what got her in that situation in the first place. Pursed around her soaked digits, she felt one of his fangs scrape against her index finger, and she pictured his smile in her mind again; the polar opposite to the demonic expression he was wearing at that moment. Perhaps, if she told him what she was looking at, he’d finally leave her alone. 

“Please! I was just admiring your smile!”

Whatever Namjoon was expecting the acolyte to say with her fingers nearly down his throat, it wasn’t that. Almost as if she dumped water over him, Namjoon’s eyes glazed over, his grip growing just weak enough for Y/N to pull her hand away from his mouth and fangs. Catching her breath, Y/N used his distraction to slip away, ducking under his arm. She knew that she wouldn��t get very far; indeed, Namjoon was quick to grab her by the back of her dress, the material tearing slightly with the force. 

“What did you just say to me?” Namjoon, for the first time to Y/N’s ears, spoke softly. The vampire, appearing to be unseeing, scanned her face, and Y/N almost got the feeling that he was seeing someone else in front of him. 

“I-I mean, you scare me, but when you, um. Your smile? It’s–” Y/N gulped, relieved that whatever was making her body produce what Namjoon had sucked off of her fingers was beginning to subside, pure exhaustion and defeat gripping her instead. “Beautiful. It’s beautiful, makes you less s-scary. I’m sorry if that offends you! Master Namjoon, but please, can you let me go?”

Y/N’s pleas barely had effort behind them. Bone-deep fatigue and confusion had her bedroom fading in and out of view, and all she desired was the down quilt on her bed to sink into. Soaking in her response, Namjoon released the girl, ancient memories coming back to him and making him promptly turn on his heel. He needed to come to his senses– the dim acolyte was not the woman in those memories, no matter that those precise words had only been spoken to him only once before, under very different circumstances. He was at the door before the human could collapse onto her bed, still aroused and uncertain. 

“One more piece of advice, acolyte,” Namjoon, still in the same, low tone, spoke. “Rather, a warning.”

A muffled, sad little moan came from Y/N, who was turned away on her side. She hadn’t even bothered to clean herself up, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the air hitting the damper areas of her body and the dull agony of her fresh wounds. 

“Innocence is a dangerous thing to possess around a vampire. Wise up, or you’ll be swallowed whole.”

Y/N was sick of hearing things she didn’t understand paired with threats, so she offered no verbal acknowledgement to his stupid advice. Not that Namjoon stuck around, the door shutting and leaving Y/N finally, finally alone. 

Her elation over that fact was temporary. A metal tinkling sound coming from where Namjoon was just standing had her eyebrows furrowing, something heavy sliding into place resolutely. That was when Y/N bolted upright with horror, the movement opening the punctures created by Seokjin’s earlier bite. 

Namjoon had locked her into the bedroom from the outside. 

“You reek of cum,” Taehyung, irritated that the elder strolling into the office was late, unbathed, and had a lace bralette hanging out of his suit pants. Taehyung, bitter venom filling his mouth, stuffed his pocket watch back into the pocket of his suit vest. “Abhorrent.”

“No showers at the cabaret. Let’s get this over with,” Hoseok shrugged, not as eager to prolong a dramatic meeting of the minds after he had fucked his way through the showgirls all night. 

“Sit down. I’ll make this brief,” Seokjin was all business. He spent the better part of his morning jumping down Yoongi’s throat, the artist still literally licking his wounds– tongue swiping over a bloodied– thanks to the acolyte– and torn lip. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” Hoseok interrupted Seokjin, realizing the immortal that filled any room with negative energy was absent. “You’re agonizing over my lateness, Taehyung, but not his?”

“Namjoon-ah and I will talk after,” Seokjin’s temple throbbed, using a handkerchief to clean the blood from one of his rings that cut into Yoongi’s lip. 

It was a gloomy, dark morning. The sun had barely even risen, so the low sources of lighting in the already moody office came from lit sconces and the fireplace. Jeongguk, by the window, tracked droplets of water coasting down the glass plane. With immortal eyes, he could detect the warps and imperfections in the hundred year old glass. It was far more entertaining than getting chewed up by Seokjin. Absently, the youngest vampire rolled up the sleeves of his cream colored sweater, caught off guard by the healthy caramel glow to his skin in contrast. He must have been walking around like a specter for too long, without a good donor. 

“Yoongi has been told to keep his work to his bedroom. From now on, if he wishes to have the acolyte model, it will be contained to that space,” Seokjin began, giving Yoongi a scathing glare. Yoongi’s mind was elsewhere, the front of his button down stained with blood and muted pigments of paint. 

“Well, that doesn’t seem so bad, hm? You aren’t going soft, are you, Seokjin?” Jimin, a touch tipsy from the night before and dressed in nothing but a patterned silk robe, was leafing through a first-edition copy of one of his early plays– something Hoseok collected years ago, apparently. “Hoseok! Where did you get this? You don’t even have the decency to read my tragedies, but you are comfortable stealing valuable copies?”

“Ah. That was from some gout-ridden aristocrat’s collection when we docked in Jamaica–”

“Last night will not be repeated,” Seokjin cut through the idle, infuriating chit-chat, Taehyung appearing just as relieved that the eldest was moving things along in a timely manner. “I will not allow this coven to be reduced to a pack of animals simply because of a human. I do not care if she is a tempting muse to you, an entertaining plaything, or a virgin to defile. No one is to touch the girl unless to feed.”

The silence would be considered unsettling by anybody, mortal or otherwise. Yoongi was the only one who wasn’t absolutely bewildered by the strictness of Seokjin’s order, considering he had already been briefed during his beat down. Normally, the head of the coven would let the six younger vampires toy with their acolytes as they pleased, indifferent– but not that time around.

“How are we to feed without touching her, Seokjin? Are we koi in your royal garden, waiting for you to decide when our next meal is? You had the first bite. Before now, you didn’t take issue with us having our share of fun with the acolytes,” Taehyung frowned, hands in the pockets of his suit curling into fists. “Perhaps Seokjin has decided to return to how we fed when I first joined the coven,” Jeongguk offered softly, Seokjin nodding in the slightest. A dismayed harrumph came from Jimin, who was rolling his eyes and pulling a mother-of-pearl comb through his raven hair. 

 Jeongguk began to remember his early days as an immortal, head tilted, and tried to flick through Seokjin’s head in curiosity. He was met with the usual iron wall that surrounded it. Seokjin raised a manicured brow, Jeongguk’s gaze returning to the window. 

“So… That’s all well and good. But why are there layers to this? Yoongi can arrange her into Kama Sutra positions but we aren’t to touch her point blank?” Hoseok wasn’t exactly broken up over the fact that he wasn’t to touch the acolyte, just annoyed with the special exceptions. 

“You are being dull on purpose,” Seokjin sang blandly, leaning back in his leather chair. “I meant none of you are to engage in anything sexual with her. Fledglings– and immortals with no self control, such as yourself, Hoseok– do not do well entangling themselves with acolytes such as… Y/N.”

“Such as ‘Y/N’? Elaborate?” Taehyung politely requested, leaning against the door of the office. His office, really, the one he built for his summer holidays a century ago, he noted with mild bitterness, smoothing out his tweed suit with precise pats. At wit’s end, Seokjin put his head in his hands, so exasperated he cursed in his ancient native tongue. 

“Her innocence and purity draws you in like a moth to a flame, I realize that, but I’m tired of applying for new acolytes. Two things are of greater importance that deserve my attention. First, I refuse to let you all revert yourselves into baser creatures thus tarnishing our reputation, which directly affects the second pressing matter. This week, the gala we are hosting with Berwind. Everything has to go smoothly.”

“... So, we can touch her. Just not–”

“Spare me, Hoseok,” Seokjin’s voice was hoarse, strained, and he had dealt with more tumor-inducing conversations in the past 24 hours than he had in decades. “Push her around if you want, I don’t give a shit. Do not try to seduce her.”

“But she thinks we’re all so handsome,” Jeongguk murmured, half amused, half kicking the hornet’s nest. “That’s like asking us to walk around with satchels over our heads.”

“All humans think we’re handsome,” Jimin countered, bored. He’d find it an insult worthy of death if the girl didn’t revere his beauty. 

“Stop whining and do as I say. You all have work to do before the gala. Taehyung, have Edmund fetch Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin snapped, the scent of mortals filling the room and making him cover his nose and mouth with a delicate palm to block it. 

“Alright, ‘boss’. Let’s see how long these new rules last,” Hoseok let his fangs drip with venom. He despised being ordered around, but the benefits of remaining in the coven and under Seokjin’s protection outweighed the cons. Seokjin usually came around, especially once the human would begin to get on Seokjin’s bad side. “I’m taking a bath until dinner.”

“That means he’ll be piss drunk again,” Jeongguk pointed out, once Hoseok had ditched the room, and Yoongi slowly rose from his seat. 

Yoongi had been fiddling with a filbert paint brush during the entire conversation, mind solely focused on the painting he had spent the whole night working on. As he began to excuse himself from the room, Jimin caught a hold of the tail of Yoongi’s untucked button down. Often, he’d let Jimin watch him paint; Jimin wrote screenplays while Yoongi would stretch canvases in peaceful silence. Yoongi, paying no mind to his younger covenmate, used the filbert brush to pin up his shoulder-length paint-caked locks with a fledgling anchored to the back of his shirt.

The artist was rather grateful Seokjin hadn’t torn into him as much as he could have– Yoongi chalked it up to good behavior and keeping to himself for the better half of the last century. Sure, he was agitated that Seokjin warned him to keep the Paralysis to a minimum, which was a nuisance, but perhaps it would be an artistic challenge for him. With a melodic hum, Yoongi licked the last of the blood off of his lips, eyes glowing when he and Jimin both left the office quietly. 

Though, Jimin was quiet for other reasons. Like Hoseok, Jimin was a spiteful vampire. The young acolyte already proved to be the brightest spark of entertainment he had seen from humanity since Old Hollywood, the excessive comparison floating around in Jimin’s lofty mind making Jeongguk dread the upcoming few days. With that, Taehyung and Jeongguk considered themselves dismissed, Seokjin only getting a moment to recover from the theatrics before launching into somewhat of a show himself. 

“Namjoon-ah, come in, please,” Seokjin, hand still dragging over his face, hadn’t the slightest explanation for Namjoon’s lapse in judgement the previous night. The sting of betrayal from somebody who quite literally died for loyalty, sacrificing his very soul, was so strong it had even Seokjin’s chest tightening. 

The doors swung open, Namjoon’s powerful strides bringing him into the office in less than three steps. Unfortunately, the human girl that was ushered into the room behind her had Namjoon freezing, carmine eyes narrowing. 

Y/N, who had been scrubbed utterly raw by her maids that morning as per Seokjin’s request, was currently entirely under Seokjin’s influence. From the moment her eyes opened at dawn, Seokjin could sense her panic from the bedroom above her– and to prevent any further nonsense, he mentally Compelled her to be nothing but his temporary puppet. Namjoon, as if he sensed he’d be in some hot water that morning, had his sword strapped to his broad back, his large gloved hands settling over the leather belt strapped around his hips. 

“Hyung. I felt you were too lenient on her,” Namjoon began, the picture of confidence. It elicited a low chuckle from Seokjin, torn between being too fond of Namjoon and ready to exact his punishment without mercy. 

“Okay, little acolyte. You can sit now,” Seokjin released Y/N from his spell only after she absently perched on a seat on the opposite side of the mahogany desk. Sucking in a deep breath, he waited for the girl to start babbling stupidly. 

“OH! You,” Y/N’s fingernails cut into the upholstered chair she sagged into, one hand shooting up to the back of her neck urgently, her outrage focused on her former mental captor. If Jeongguk’s power crushed her skull, and Jimin’s bruised her marrow; Seokjin melted her very spinal cord. 

“You too, Namjoon-ah, sit.”

Namjoon’s jaw worked, Seokjin staring at him through his dark curtain of eyelashes and waiting for him to ultimately obey. He always did. 

“I did what I thought had to be done. She’s completely unharmed,” Namjoon impulsively came up with a half-baked excuse, Seokjin pausing with a cocked head in his palms to remember that not so long ago, Namjoon was one of the fledglings too. 

“What!? Not true! Y-you! He! He locked me into the room!” Y/N exploded, pointing angrily at Namjoon like an unruly child. 

“I know.”

“You’re angry I locked her in? We do that to all of the acolytes,” Namjoon scoffed, suddenly wishing he had just shown the human to her early grave when she cursed at him under her breath. 

“I’m angry that you went over my head. This is unlike you, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin projected the scene of Namjoon taking the acolyte’s soaked fingers into his mouth into his mind, from Namjoon’s very own perspective. Namjoon swore, thinking Jeongguk deserved his neck wrung for daring to use his maddening mind-reading on him. 

“Excuse me. Did you just say you lock in all of the acolytes?” Y/N spluttered, body sagging into the chair even further when she realized Seokjin didn’t care she was imprisoned overnight. She was ignored by both vampires coldly.

“You’re going to punish me.”

“No.”

“No?” Namjoon leaned back in his seat, settling an ankle over the opposite knee, again drilling holes into the side of the human woman’s face with a glare. None of the arousal that clung to her the night before was evident, just a cocktail of edginess and despair. “Then what, Seokjin? I’ve proved my loyalty. Perhaps I had too much to drink.”

“You’ve proved your loyalty,” Seokjin repeated in agreement, rising from his seat with his hands clasped behind his back. “Which is why I’m giving you a new task. Around the clock.”

“Okay,” Namjoon drew out the syllables of his response, Y/N wiggling in her seat like she wanted to bolt. Why was she even there? When Namjoon thought he knew Seokjin’s every move, he was proven otherwise time and time again. It must have been instinctual for an eternal crown prince to keep his subjects on their toes.

“The gala we’re hosting for Edmund Berwind is just the first of many this winter,” Seokjin began to slowly pace around the intimidatingly masculine office, Y/N comparing him to a lethal black snake circling its next meal. “Last night aside. Besides myself, Namjoon-ah, you hold the most power in the coven. This winter I have to play politics and I will not have time to make sure this acolyte stays alive in order to sustain us.”

Y/N shuddered, not needing to be a vampire to feel the electric tension steadily climbing to a fever pitch. Namjoon, pearly dust coating his tongue from grinding his teeth so intensely, fiddled with the hilt of his sword, eyes liquid red. 

“What do you need from me, hyung?” Namjoon stared at Seokjin’s back, turned to him and the acolyte by a large bay window. Namjoon wondered if Seokjin was taking any pleasure in drawing things out. 

“Namjoon-ah. Since you seem to take a particular interest in the little girl, I imagine that to a vampire with weaker restraint, she’s a duck sitting in a pot of potatoes and leeks,” Seokjin began, head turning slightly so Y/N could gape at his flawless side profile– his lips, nose, and long lashes were highlighted by early morning light. 

“Particular interest–?”

“You’re to be her bodyguard.”

Again, there was a ghostly silence, one that Seokjin relished in. The girl was still somewhat loopy from him controlling her all morning, but Namjoon’s outright shock had Seokjin humming. 

“Bodyguard? Seokjin hyung, you know I respect you. Jeongguk was a former bodyguard. He is more suited for the job. I do not want to be near this woman,” Namjoon protested sharply, unaware that that was the precise reason Seokjin selected playing bodyguard as punishment for Namjoon. Y/N, in similar fashion, recoiled and clutched her roiling gut. 

“Jeongguk is the youngest fledgling,” Seokjin quickly replied, as if Namjoon was daft to even suggest such a thing. “Jeongguk also has the mind of a stunted teenager. He has tenderness that lingers. He cannot be tasked with something like this, not yet. You are to watch the acolyte and make sure she is not only protected from our guests, but the rest of the coven as well.”

“This is a test.”

“This is a warning, Namjoon!” Seokjin hissed, spinning around. “Remember yourself. Wake up, and do your job. Give me her bedroom key.”

Seokjin, in a blur, was standing above Namjoon, a palm dangling in front of the younger’s face. Namjoon’s fangs flashed, digging around in the pocket of his slacks, and offered up a gilded skeleton key with grave reluctance– almost like it was his death sentence. Smart enough to realize that she had absolutely no irons in the fire to protest, Y/N numbly watched Seokjin fashion a necklace for Namjoon out of a fine spool of wire produced from the desk, one with the key to her bedroom dangling as its grand pendant. Namjoon, still as ever, held his breath when Seokjin dropped the necklace over his head. 

“Take her to the Sanctuary to pick out acolytes for Saturday evening. Bring Jeongguk to weed out the weak of mind,” Seokjin upped the ante by sending Namjoon on an errand with the acolyte, the addition of Jeongguk monitoring his thoughts no doubt sending Namjoon into murderous rage. “Keep your hands to yourself and your mouth shut, acolyte. Go.”

Dismissing the two, Namjoon’s power crackling like electricity over his knuckles, Seokjin leaned a hip on the desk, plucking up the landline receiver. Y/N’s mouth was agape at the mention of the Sanctuary– the run-down Gothic cathedral a place she never knew she could miss, but did, desperately. 

While processing the possibility that she might get to see her friends once more, even if it was just to give them a proper goodbye, Y/N was yanked upwards by the back of her sweater. Namjoon had a fistful of her wool collar in his glove-clad fist, the vampire so enraged by his newly appointed ‘job’ that he didn’t even have words of malice in his vocabulary to spit back at Seokjin that could encapsulate it. 

“I can walk,” Y/N righted herself with a scoff, shockingly cognizant despite everything that had already happened the first hour she was awake. Namjoon let go of her sweater, his striking face twisted up in disgust, tearing from the office like his heels were on fire. 

Y/N adjusted the fit of her sweater, swallowing down her trepidation. Many things became clear to her, as she eyed Seokjin speaking to someone on the phone in a lilting foreign language. First and foremost, she had just become the most well-protected acolyte in the nation with Namjoon as her bodyguard. Second, Seokjin had not only inadvertently confirmed how necessary her well-being and survival was to not only the entire coven, but to himself as well. Y/N accepted that fear would always be there, and she’d endure moments of humiliation like she had the night prior. She’d experience pain and psychological torment. But she’d survive. 

“아니, 창덕궁은 아니고–” Seokjin’s eyes flashed, angry that the acolyte was gawking at him like a dolt and not following her newly appointed bodyguard. He lowered the phone from his lips slightly, snarling a threat. “Get going, little girl, before I bite you again.”

Scowling, Y/N cupped a palm over the punctures he left in her neck, barely covered by the cut of her sweater’s collar. The vampire was still barking into the phone when one of the staff members began to shut the office doors behind Y/N, his voice carrying into the hall.

“내 생각에는 경복궁이 우리의 필요에 더 잘 맞을 것 같아요–”

The grand wooden doors cut off Seokjin’s dulcet tones effectively with a hollow clang, and paired with it, three maids surrounded her in a flurry of winter hats and coats to bundle her up. 

“Oh, Nadia–” Y/N gasped, a friendly face appearing before her at long last. Her maid fastened a pair of fur earmuffs over Y/N’s head securely. “Please tell me you’ll be coming along on this errand!”

“Afraid not, Miss. Typically, I would join you, but with the gala preparations this week, I must send you with a list to take to the market. The masters will accompany you on the way to the Sanctuary,” Nadia gestured to the large ballroom overlooking the sea, dozens of staff members on their hands and knees scrubbing the marble floors. “You’ll have a merry time at the market this time of year, Miss. I’m sure the masters will treat you to a hot drink.”

Y/N thought diamonds raining from the sky seemed more likely than Namjoon or Jeongguk willingly purchasing her a treat, the latter of the two vampires unfortunately coming into her view when Nadia led her to the mansion’s front door. Y/N hadn’t seen the youngest immortal since Yoongi escorted him from the billiard’s room the night prior. Y/N’s heart was doing something funny in her chest at the sight of him, like it was taking dips and tumbles in the cavity, Jeongguk’s cream-colored sweater giving the vampire an almost innocent appearance. 

“Nadia, don’t you have a scarf for the acolyte?” Jeongguk ignored the desperate desire to use Telepathy on Y/N, who was reluctantly waddling over to him with a pout on her small mouth. “It’s important for human women to keep their thyroid warm in the winter.”

Y/N coughed back an incredulous laugh, not believing for a single second that Jeongguk truly gave a rat’s ass about her thyroid. If anything, the comment gave her the creeps, shattering the angelic image he was falsely projecting. 

“Yes Master Jeongguk, I have this cashmere–”

“Give it to me, Nadia,” Jeongguk cut the maid off, crooking a finger at Y/N and beckoning her forward. He snatched an oversized scarf from Nadia with graceful finesse, wrapping the material around his palms.

Y/N was at the point, so early in the morning and already tired of games, that she simply slouched her way to the captor summoning her without putting up a fight. Besides, Namjoon was probably around the corner, and Y/N knew she was pretty much invincible with him as her ‘bodyguard’. She could endure some teasing from Jeongguk, she told herself, as she anxiously focused on the faint scar on one of his cheeks. 

“Here you go,” Jeongguk was murmuring pleasantly, beginning to wind the scarf around Y/N’s neck. While stiff, she maintained her composure, not wanting Jeongguk to get the best of her when he started tucking the ends of the scarf into her coat’s collar. “All bundled up, there you go.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, sincere words coming from Jeongguk tainted by a condescending cadence. Without thinking, she brushed his knuckles away from her jawline, Jeongguk snickering and limply dropping his hand to his side. 

“Developing an attitude problem now that you’ve become Seokjin’s princess?” Jeongguk stooped, his large doe eyes sparkling with youthful mischief. It made Y/N’s heart act up again. “Even Namjoon’s to be waiting on your hand and foot. Pretty nice setup, huh?”

“Isn’t it too early for this?” Y/N squinted, backing up several paces so Jeongguk’s sweet breath wasn’t wafting over her face anymore. “Sure, I have an attitude. Wouldn’t you?”

“You know, you’d make a fairly interesting immortal,” Jeongguk crossed his arms over his chest, broad back resting against a solid pillar by the front door. Y/N couldn’t hear it, but Namjoon was tearing up a training room in the basement just below their feet, picturing the martial arts foam dummy down there was the acolyte he was eviscerating with his sword. 

“That… sounds like a threat. Or a death sentence,” Y/N squeaked, never considering the possibility that she herself could be turned. Jeongguk’s face split into a grin, picturing the girl frozen in time forever, pure and skittish, her eyes like rubies. 

“It’s two sides of the same coin, Y/N. It’s a threat, and it would be a death sentence,” Jeongguk, all but purring, watched the wheels turn in her head. She was confused once more, her weight shifting from foot to foot. While the fledgling enjoyed her nervous response to his presence, he realized, with a frown, that the acolyte seemed to find him the most approachable amongst the coven members. He’d have to change that, swiftly. “Don’t you know how vampires are made?”

“I don’t wish to know,” Y/N quickly shook her head, striding to the grand front door in order to get a move on with the dreaded errands. Besides, Jeongguk looked far too eager to describe something unpleasant.

“Well, to start. We’d have to drain you of almost all of your blood,” Jeongguk disregarded her, not that Y/N was surprised, her fingernails scraping against the front door when thunderous footsteps pounded up a stairwell just beyond Jeongguk’s shoulder. “You’d be dying. Before you’d take your last breath, however…”

“We’re going,” Namjoon stormed by Y/N and the taunting fledgling, Y/N gulping audibly when she saw the sweat rolling down his temples and the unsheathed sword in his grasp. 

Finding it the perfect opportunity to leave Jeongguk and his gory stories in the dust, Y/N made haste after Namjoon, the length of her coat’s skirt collecting dust and moisture from the previous night’s storm. 

“Get in the back,” Namjoon jutted his chin towards the cushy black sedan she remembered seeing the day she met the vampires, the car already running and filling the air with silky looking exhaust.

Clamming herself up, Y/N obediently slid into the back seat of the sedan when Namjoon yanked the door open for her, a mew of awe leaving her when she landed on the soft leather booth. Taking in the cabin, Y/N traced over the vents closest to her, the glossy wood buffed to a bright shine. 

“Oof–” Y/N grunted, a heavy object tossed over her lap. With a shriek, she shoved Namjoon’s sword off of her and onto the floor, relieved that it was sheathed but horrified that she was anywhere near it. Namjoon slammed the door shut, cutting the chill that was coming from outside, the sheer force of the action jolting the car around.

“Put that on the seat next to you. If you had any idea how much that was worth, you’d be kneeling on a chapel floor until you bled,” Namjoon was suddenly in the seat directly in front of her, not even turning to make eye contact when he addressed her. 

With trembling hands, she lifted the sword, the scabbard made of a black lacquered wood, urgently placing it as far away as she could. There was a blood red tassel hanging off it, the strings somewhat frayed with time, and engraved inscriptions along the sides of the scabbard that Y/N could not read. 

“Hoseok fucked with my seat again,” Jeongguk dropped into the driver’s seat, his fast movements a blur as he adjusted his mirrors. “You never let me finish, either, Y/N.”

Y/N wished she could go back in time and smack herself for insisting on the vampires calling her by her actual name. Something about a deadly creature knowing and using that particular intimacy felt wrong, Y/N nervously biting her lip as Jeongguk turned to pull out of the carport. Flashing his fangs at her, Jeongguk paid no attention to Namjoon burying himself in some boring book about martial arts to distract himself, the girl shrinking into her scarf for feeble protection.

“When you’re drained, taking your last breath… one of us could either kill you or wait for you to die,” Jeongguk switched the radio on, quiet hip-hop pulsing through the expensive speakers in the cabin. “Then you have to be fed.”

“What are you even talking about? How can you feed me if I’ve been murdered?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, wondering if Jeongguk thought she was slow. 

“One of us would feed you immortal blood, and it would revive you as an immortal yourself. A fledgling,” Jeongguk went on as if she hadn’t poked holes in his tale, the iron gates at the front of the property swinging open to a wintery, meticulously paved street. 

“Why on earth would we ever turn that pest?” Namjoon murmured blandly, the sound of his leather gloves rustling against the pages of a book again sparking Y/N’s interest. It appeared that Namjoon never actually took those gloves off, for some elusive reason. “Can’t we carry out this task in silence?”

Jeongguk chuckled, but knew not to push his luck. Namjoon was one toe out of line from taking his frustrations out on bystanders at the market, which would be a pain to clean up. He settled into his seat and rolled down the windows, his skin sensitive to the elements with the acolyte’s blood nourishing it. As cool rain ran over his forearm, Jeongguk smirked to himself– it was only a matter of time until Jimin would be requesting pints of the acolyte’s blood to dump in his nightly bath. He was ripped from his thoughts of Jimin bathing in a marble pool of crimson when the girl actually dared to speak, almost mocking Namjoon’s final comment.

“Why on earth would I ever want to be turned? I’m already chained to you for the rest of my human life. To be trapped with you in immortality would be an eternal hell that I would have no escape from. Not even death would be kind to me.”

“Hosting parties here in the winter is something I never envisioned during construction,” Taehyung wound the silver chain to his pocket watch around his wrist, a line of maids brushing by with armfuls of holiday decorations. “It was intentionally designed for summer parties, keeping outsiders out.”

“You’ve mentioned that before, Master Taehyung. Especially during the winter holidays. You must detest them,” Edmund managed to keep up with his immortal employer by breaking into a near jog, scratching down a list of to-do’s as he went. The old butler had a weight lifted off his shoulder that morning, the acolyte off-property and out of the lion’s den, at least for a while. 

“The loggias open to the lawn and gardens. They’re useless in the winter. We should be hosting in the New York townhouses,” Taehyung continued to complain, using the butler as a sounding board. 

“Shall I order the evergreens today?”

Taehyung sighed, his delicate nose wrinkling up as he imagined the sappy, pungent smell of Christmas trees permeating through his estate. From where he was in the great hall, he could simply tilt his head just so, and with vampiric vision he could make out every brushstroke painted onto the ceiling fifty feet into the sky. Similarly, his hearing picked up every whisper from the servants in the hall, their heartbeats, and the continuous ticking of his pocket watch. Passing a hand over his gelled curls, Taehyung resumed his lap around the first floor. 

“I suppose. I cannot believe Seokjin put me on decorating duty. He can be such a… prince,” Taehyung frowned deeply, mulling over how he had managed to get himself in that spot. 

Sure, Taehyung was still a ‘fledgling’, but he was older than Jeongguk, who was actually permitted to take the acolyte on a trip to town with Namjoon. Classic Seokjin, showing favoritism for both the youngest vampire and the second-in-command. It made Taehyung want to spit venom onto the floor, but he always considered himself a gentleman, so he swallowed it down with a wince. 

“Like the holidays, Master, you seem to detest town, too,” Edmund, with mild amusement, made sure to prioritize Taehyung’s preferences for the decor– if he didn’t follow the businessman's directions to the letter, there would be cruel and unusual punishments. “Perhaps he was sparing you from the throngs of people asking for your audience.”

“Do not kiss my ass, Edmund,” Taehyung peered down through his thick lashes, hands stuffed in his pockets. There was no bite to his words, Taehyung actually appreciating Edmund’s discreet and meticulous work over the years, but he still had to maintain his immortal authority. “Seokjin picks punishments that create a slow torture, ones that unravel a person. I didn’t do too much to offend this time, but I still have to handle ‘festivities’ when I’d rather focus on the business.”

“I heard…” Edmund’s cerulean eyes darted around the hall before he and the fledgling reached the secluded grotto beneath the marble staircase. “Namjoon has been appointed as a sort of bodyguard to the acolyte.”

“Wherever did you hear that, old friend?” Taehyung grinned maliciously, stooping to get a good look at the elderly human. After years of being worn down without losing his mind, Taehyung didn’t mind that Edmund possessed an agenda, as long as it wasn’t conflicting with his own. “Eavesdropping again?”

“Simply trying to get up to speed on how things will be working from now on,” Edmund, even with his years of service, always preferred to deal with the vampires when they had recently fed, their appearances closer to humans than the ghoulish, starving versions of themselves. Presently, Taehyung appeared like a healthy young man that stepped forward in time from the Gilded Age. “You don’t mind filling me in, do you?”

“Namjoon cannot tolerate humans, especially ones that lack the intelligence of the world. Being a bodyguard to one is the ultimate punishment for him, so he must have royally fucked up somehow. Jeongguk is the only one who knows how Namjoon fucked up other than Seokjin, which is why he’s driving Namjoon around. Insult to injury. That, and Seokjin is testing Jeongguk’s self-control, which will wear thin quickly.”

 Taehyung knelt on one knee, dipping his hand into the chest pocket of his vest. Using a Prussian blue handkerchief, the silk slippery when he used it to polish a spot of marble making up the basin of the grotto beneath the main staircase.

“Forcing Yoongi to paint without Paralysis is torture for him. Being barred from playing his little games is no doubt leading up to a spell of hysteria from Jimin,” Taehyung folded the handkerchief with care, then tested the febrile water bubbling in the grotto with a satisfied hum. “As for Hoseok… Well, he escalated things with his vulgarities last night. Seokjin’s response was to send him to local churches to keep up on our donations.”

“Which leaves dealing with the cabaret to you,” Edmund, though considered to be ‘old’ for a human, was quite sharp. Taehyung hated many things: tardiness, interacting with extroverts, dealing with party planning, but most of all, Taehyung despised lowly human perversions. 

“Come sundown I’ll be at a cattle auction hosted in a brothel,” Taehyung grunted, straightening up and trying to hide his surprise that his limbs moved so fluidly. “No use in fighting it. Seokjin is manipulative, but it is how we have stayed powerful for so long.”

“Manipulative? That is one of the kindest ways you have described me in decades, Taehyung,” Seokjin, melting into the crooks and nannies of the vast estate, made his presence known, the head chef cowering behind the eldest vampire. “You’ve hardly finished coordinating decorations. You wouldn’t have to traipse around the red-light district after sundown if you lit a fire under your ass.”

“Are you implying that I’m lazy?” Taehyung scoffed incredulously, Edmund excusing himself to ‘order the evergreens’. “The greatest businessman in history. Lazy?”

“The greatest businessman in American history. You still brag about your achievements like a petulant child of nepotism,” Seokjin glanced at the clipboard the head chef was holding with trembling hands, pointing at something and clicking his tongue. Taehyung felt his skin rippling, like Glamor was trying to turn him into a demon with leathery skin. “Leave the rest to Edmund and just go to the cabaret now.”

“Hoseok usually handles the cabaret. What am I even supposed to be negotiating in that cesspool?” 

“You’re supposed to be picking out entertainment for the lecherous variety of guests that will be here this week. Must I spell it out for you?” Seokjin was out of sight as soon as he was in it, ordering the chef around again. “Has anyone unpacked the crates of liquor yet–”

Taehyung’s face split into a disbelieving grin, a rough chuckle tearing through his chest. There were days Taehyung longed for Seokjin’s power and influence, and moments where reality struck him. With his skin still threatening to take on the appearance of something otherworldly– beyond his control– could Taehyung even wield the power it took to head a vampiric coven properly? 

Glancing around the grand summer home he painstakingly designed for himself a lifetime ago, Taehyung sighed as he began to transform himself into a man who no one would recognize in the streets. Not only a widely known vampire in town, but the businessman who put Newport, Rhode Island on the map many years ago, Taehyung morphed into the perfect replica of the young man handing him his car keys– who stumbled sideways in shock when he saw a clone of himself staring back. 

Gentle, fuzzy orchestral music played loudly enough to have bottles of turpentine rattling against each other, Yoongi groaning from behind the wet canvas he was agonizing over. A pile of discarded palettes sat at his feet, unsatisfactory swatches of colors smeared all over the plastic heightening his aggravation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the shade of the acolyte’s hair just right. 

“On the average day, I admire your process. Judging by appearances, you’ve deviated from that process. Where am I to sit, your lap?” Jimin returned from his ‘break’ from writing in Yoongi’s bedroom to take a leisurely two-hour long bath, dressed in his typical satin attire. 

Yoongi, out of pure frustration, launched a palette knife across the room and out of the half-cracked bay window. It was true: at least fifteen canvases in various sizes were tossed about the room, paint still tacky and smudged, the fabric tarp protecting the Oriental carpets caked was in pigments, and not even Yoongi’s bed– where Jimin typically lounged to pen down his screenplays– had a free spot where a box of supplies didn’t occupy. Yoongi himself looked like a trainwreck, long glossy hair gathered into a ragged knot at the back of his head, reeking of paint thinner, and clothes basically destroyed by the mediums he was using. 

Jimin, slightly mournful that his silk pajamas were going to be ruined, dropped himself onto one of Yoongi’s thighs, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi’s agitated expression. Usually, he would have pushed Jimin off by then, too wrapped up in what he was painting to endure Jimin’s flirting. Blinking, Jimin turned his head, leaning forward on Yoongi’s thigh to get a look at the painting causing the older vampire so much grief. 

His work was as fine as ever. In fact, Jimin had half a mind to smack Yoongi across the face. Of course, the painting was of the acolyte, but it portrayed her taking a sip from a champagne flute during the previous night’s dinner. The colors were vibrant and lifelike, and the acolyte was so well depicted that Jimin could imagine the girl stepping out of the canvas. Yoongi even managed to capture how beautiful the ruby necklace Jimin picked out for the acolyte was, which made Jimin spring up from his perch and place his hands on his hips. 

“You’re being ridiculous. How could you possibly be unhappy with that portrait?” Jimin accused, the cloud over Yoongi’s head darkening. “The hair isn’t right,” Yoongi murmured, plucking up another tube of paint to lighten the tones on the top of the acolyte’s head, where the chandelier picked up on her natural highlights. “I can’t get it right without her here.”

“Well, she’s playing with others right now. It’s not your turn,” Jimin snarked, finding the notebook he was using for his latest screenplay under an old smock Yoongi only used to wipe paint from his hands. “Besides, is she Botticelli’s Venus? How complicated can her hair color possibly be?”

“You were too preoccupied with how her tits spilled out of the top of her dress to notice her hair,” Yoongi went for a petty low blow, which was unlike him. Jimin paused, clutching his notebook to his chest and studying his elder for a moment. 

Jimin always thought Yoongi was beautiful, but when Yoongi found a new muse, he glowed and took on something angelic. However, that particular time his glow was dimmed, thanks to Seokjin’s restrictions on Yoongi’s access to his newfound muse, and stress brought on by perfectionism was extinguishing the light almost completely. 

“You haven’t been this neurotic about details since the portraits you worked on for Marilyn Monroe, and that acolyte is nowhere near that level of femme fatale,” Jimin cocked his head, perturbed that Yoongi wasn’t giving him the time of day. He couldn’t have that. “Yoongi, put the blasted paint down.”

With practiced ease, Jimin used a stronger dose of Hypnosis on Yoongi than he did the acolyte. Yoongi, promptly, felt his filbert brush clatter to the ground, a gritty purr coming from the artist. He didn’t have the patience to entertain Jimin that day, but it seemed Jimin had other ideas, pushing the palette out of Yoongi’s grasp and using a crooked finger to tilt his chip up. 

“Release me, Jimin,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, his ancient bones aching from Hypnosis wrapping around them. “You do not need to Hypnotize me to gain my attention.”

“Clearly that’s not the case,” Jimin snapped, letting go of his elder covenmate and withdrawing his power slowly. “You’re completely consumed. She’s your latest muse.”

Jimin watched, with an almost human interest, blood pool in Yoongi’s cheeks. When a vampire has fed, within moments the mortal blood revives the stagnant vampiric blood– black in color– and the immortal’s body is restored to its height of health. Essentially, the mortal and vampiric blood become one; the blush across Yoongi’s cheeks was something Jimin had not seen in at least fifteen years. It was worse than he thought. 

“I would not go that far… muse…” Yoongi looked away, out the window and towards the sea. “No. Just a new subject to paint.”

“Sure,” Jimin scoffed, bored suddenly. With a huff, he meanly pushed a stack of sketchbooks off of Yoongi’s bed with a bare foot, collapsing on his side and cracking open his leather bound manuscripts-in-progress. “I have no issues admitting the acolyte has inspired my work. You know I’ve suffered from a block lately. Your stubbornness vexes me.”

“If it ‘vexes’ you so much, go entertain yourself with the girl’s maids. Pick out her wardrobe for the week and leave me in peace,” Yoongi retrieved his paint brush from the floor, using featherlight pressure to diffuse the harsh lines making up a lock of hair on the acolyte’s head. “Turn down the music while you’re at it.”

“Cold,” Jimin grinned, one of his fangs piercing through the cap of his pen once he brought it to his mouth. “Turn the music down yourself. I’m comfortable now.”

It was diverting to bicker with Yoongi, who usually behaved like a mute hermit living in the mountains– the artist could stoop to a level of sarcasm that Jimin perfected before he even became immortal. Yoongi grunted noncommittally, only breaking away from his canvas for a moment in order to slam the radio off, built-up strength in his limbs due to Paralysis begging to be used. 

Yoongi couldn’t remember what it was like to work without Paralysis. In the beginning, when Yoongi was a young, human man, he took any menial job he could to keep him off the streets of Tuscany. Not once, prior to meeting his mentor, did Yoongi allow himself the luxury of dream of being a fine artist. He was too busy exterminating vermin that often holed up in his ramshackle one-room thatched-roof mud hut while he was selling fruits in an open air market to have dreams. Yoongi shook out his arms and legs, the sounds of Jimin scrawling his loopy cursive over parchment grating on his delicate ears.

“Are you writing a play or a movie script?” Yoongi mumbled, jealous that Jimin’s creativity seemed to be flowing like a babbling brook. The jealousy spiked when Jimin flipped through his notebook, revealing that he had written what seemed to be two different productions already– Paralysis started to stiffen Yoongi’s own body spitefully.

“Actually, I wrote a ballet and a short horror film. Working on something more classical now, a novel… think Mary Shelley…”

“You wrote a ballet,” Yoongi confirmed flatly, Jimin giggling and setting his pen down to tease an obviously envious Yoongi. “When was the last time you even danced ballet, let alone create a show?”

“Just because you’ve stopped dropping by during my practice times, doesn’t mean I’ve quit, Yoongi,” Jimin, in a singsong voice, rolled over on his stomach to kick his legs in the air, already envisioning complicated choreography and elaborate, decadent costumes gracing worldwide stages. “Enough of this. Take a walk, you’re distracting me.”

Jimin, with glee, returned to his manuscript, loving that he could gloat. Sure, a part of him– a part the size of perhaps a grain of rice– that felt bad for Yoongi, but it was so overshadowed by centuries of immortal narcissism that Jimin didn’t even realize that part of him still existed.

“You’re the eldest fledgling, but you behave like the youngest. Disgraceful. Messy,” Yoongi changed the subject, kneeling to the floor by the bed. Face level with Jimin, Yoongi tilted his head. “Hedonistic.”

“I’m a vampire, Yoongi,” Jimin didn’t spare his elder a glance, and even though he was writing at a nearly impossible to see speed, no ink stained his sturdy fingertips. “Maybe you should lean into your nature like you used to, and you’ll paint something actually worth viewing.”

“You’re suggesting I ignore Seokjin’s orders.”

“Since when have you obeyed them? Seokjin gives you a rather long leash because you’re boring. He gave you an out. He doesn’t care if you Paralyze the acolyte, he just wants it contained to this bedroom. If anything, that should excite you,” Jimin put down his pen, fangs on display when his mischievous smile returned. With a manicured nail, he scraped umber pigment off of Yoongi’s cheek, directly below one of his eyes. 

Yoongi considered this, letting the fledgling remove paint from his face and hair, something dark and twisted steeping into his system. Jimin was absolutely right, and it pained Yoongi to admit that to himself. Since when had he been so idle?

“Jeongguk accused me of lacking risk…”

“Normally, I’d tell you not to listen to that cretin. But the point remains,” Jimin curled his lip up in disgust, picturing the brute youngest fledgling, who had none of the artistic proclivities he and Yoongi shared. 

Yoongi seemed to be processing things, his eyes almost wine-colored as he stared at Jimin. At one point, there was a time Yoongi couldn’t stop painting him; the round false innocence of his cheeks and lips, his graceful dancer’s figure. It then dawned on him, his entire expression brightening, which had Jimin halting his task of removing Yoongi’s turpentine-soaked oxford shirt. 

“Sit in next time. Model with her,” Yoongi grasped onto one of Jimin’s wrists, his sharp nails cutting into the fledgling’s creamy skin. A trickle of blood, a shade of pinot noir, slid down his wrist bone: the shade of Jimin and the acolyte entwined. 

“Oh?” Jimin’s grin only widened seductively. “There’s the risk that made your fortune.”

Reinvigorated, Yoongi let Jimin shrug off his grip, the playwright dragging his tongue over the crescent-shaped cuts marring his perfect skin. As Yoongi stood, his shirt dropped to the floor, his chest the only part of his body spared from paint splatters. 

“After the gala, when Seokjin is less concerned with appearances to the outside world, we’ll see how a session goes,” Yoongi turned, raking a hand through his filthy hair. Under his nose, Jimin was slyly using the callbox to fetch a staff member to run another hot bath. “Just the three of us.”

Yoongi frowned at the idea of Jimin inviting Hoseok– who enjoyed partaking in some of Jimin’s twisted, sometimes perverted, games. Sniffing indignantly, Jimin got the message loud and clear. 

“Well, Hoseok can–”

Jimin was swiftly shut down when Yoongi was hovering over him again, his wrist recaptured. Body loosening deliciously when Paralysis washed over him, Jimin watched Yoongi plant a large palm beside him on the bed, trapping the fledgling in place. 

“Just the three of us.”

Yoongi repeated himself firmly, squeezing Jimin’s wrist enough to have his breath catch, and without a smart retort, Yoongi smirked at the blood flowing from his cuts. Almost like he was consummating a grave, corrupted promise, Yoongi wrapped his lips around the wounds he created, sampling both the fledgling and the human girl as if it was the fountain of youth. Outside, thunder cracked down over the glacial sea, disguising blissful, selfish sighs. 

“Miss? You seem distracted this afternoon,” Juliana’s voice is what cut through the fog, Y/N absently gazing into the polished silver mirror. 

Her cheeks had filled out with the consistent rich foods she was being fed around the clock. There was no attention paid by her to the butterfly needle sticking out of her arm, drawings now a daily– sometimes twice daily– occurrence. Y/N suspected that the blood bags were delivered bedroom to bedroom like room service, and though she hated needles, her maids drawing her blood was much better than teeth in her neck.  

It had been a couple of days since her outing with the two vampires, and Y/N felt herself moving through her life like a mechanical part of something much larger. It was the afternoon of the great ‘gala’ that the coven was throwing, which meant Y/N was roused from her bed prior to sunrise for a hasty breakfast before being manicured to perfection. 

It was a miracle, but the vampires had mostly left her alone after she had returned from the Sanctuary with Namjoon and Jeongguk. With convenient bags of her blood for them to feed on, it really wasn’t necessary for the coven to interact with her. In fact, other than Namjoon’s constant presence lurking in her shadow, the only other vampire she had to speak with was Seokjin, who gave her a detailed list of how to behave at the gala. 

Y/N didn’t know why she even had to be present during the event. She would have much preferred holing up in her bedroom with perhaps a book all night. Wincing when Juliana pulled the needle from her arm, Y/N cleared her throat, eagerly spreading a soothing ointment over the injection site. 

“Miss?”

“Hm?” Y/N shivered, fingers twisting into the fur blanket draped over her lap. Y/N had become intimately familiar with the vanity she was sitting in front of; sometimes, she swore she saw spirits in the silver mirror. “Sorry?”

“I mentioned that you seem distracted. Perhaps anticipation for the gala? The decorations look glorious,” Juliana was merry, all of the staff was, but it hardly rubbed off on Y/N. She had never been to any kind of party, and not knowing what to expect had her stomach turning. 

“Oh… yes. Anticipation,” Y/N lied, drawing the corner of her mouth up into a half-smile. Dressed in only a silk nightgown, Y/N too consumed by her anxiety to bother covering up her nipples peeking through the fabric, she was spun around on her stool. Her bed was littered with gowns, all shades of cream or off-white. “What am I wearing?”

Another thing Y/N got used to, much like Namjoon keeping close tabs on her even if he wasn’t physically present, was Jimin picking out her clothes. Not just outfits for dinner, but her daily attire as well, down to the jewelry and shoes. Y/N no longer had much agency at all, and that was revealed to her when she was taken to the Sanctuary. 

Two Days Prior to the Gala

Y/N had a lump forming in her throat when Jeongguk pulled his car into the Sanctuary’s gravel drive, the stone cathedral exactly how she remembered it just a week ago. Her legs were still cold from walking around the market, where she was treated like a ball-and-chain by the two vampires in the front seat. She was correct, earlier: there were several stands serving hot chocolate to the wealthy citizens of Newport, but neither Namjoon or Jeongguk offered to purchase one for her, even if it was to stop the chattering of her teeth. 

Jeongguk was sent into various shops by Namjoon, who remained by Y/N’s side on the cobblestone sidewalks. At one point, while Jeongguk was inside a flower shop ordering centerpieces, Y/N strayed all but three feet away from Namjoon to take a look at a stall selling roasted chestnuts. It had been a mistake: Y/N was yanked backwards promptly, and the rest of the time spent at the market involved her being led around like a dog on a leash– Namjoon dragging her by the scarf around her neck. 

In a blur she could hardly understand, Y/N was toted from the backseat and began to chase after Namjoon before he could choke her with her own scarf. The Sanctuary was unchanged, and though it had been just shy of a week, Y/N took in the sights of the front drive like it was brand new to her. Instinctively, when she spotted Mrs. Sloane at the entrance, Y/N flinched sharply into a solid body beside her– Jeongguk– and at that moment, she didn’t know who she’d rather be left alone with. 

“I–I thought vampires could not come onto Sanctuary grounds,” Y/N breathed, thinking of Meredith and how horrified she’d be to know that two wolves were amongst the lambs. 

“Quiet, AB-. I see you continue to flap your gums despite the honor you were bestowed,” Mrs. Sloane greeted Y/N in the only way the old woman probably knew how: nastily. While Namjoon simply copied the stone gargoyles beside the entrance, still, Jeongguk snickered at Y/N’s scolding. “Good day, Masters. It has been some time since we have had the pleasure.”

Y/N wanted to bust a gut like a rabid hyena. Jeongguk appeared increasingly smug, puffing out his chest importantly, while Namjoon simply adjusted the fit of his leather gloves. 

“We’ve gathered a group of acolytes for you to choose from for your gala.”

Y/N’s friends and acquaintances. With a wobbly lower lip, she and the two vampires were led to a detached office building beside the Sanctuary, where only wardens were permitted to enter. 

“You believe that moronic propaganda? Did you think we’d burst into flames stepping foot on sacred ground?” Jeongguk leaned forward, his voice floating over Y/N’s shoulder, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Promptly ignoring him, Y/N edged closer to Mrs. Sloane of all people. Though Mrs. Sloane had treated her like livestock, she still had her humanity. 

The room the three of them were led to was quite large, perhaps the size of a gymnasium, and it was apparently treated like a storage room. There were boxes of incense and votive candles stacked everywhere, as well as phlebotomy equipment. Jeongguk, with amusement, rifled through a box of tourniquets. 

“Bring them in,” Mrs. Sloane barked towards an open door, the acid in Y/N’s stomach steadily climbing up her throat when she heard shuffling. 

A handful of acolytes, mostly from the AB+ group, were pushed into the room hastily in a rush of white linens. The sight of the bleached and starched clothing Y/N used to wear day in and day out had her feeling dizzy, and if things couldn’t get any worse, an acolyte no older than seven was part of the group as well. 

“The acolyte beside you is the only one in the area with AB- blood. We’ve brought in all of our AB+ and B- typed acolytes, for your choosing. The head of your coven requested how many–?”

“Fifteen.”

Just one word was the first thing Namjoon uttered since they arrived, and the sharpness of his tone had even Mrs. Sloane stiffening. Y/N, helpless, squirmed in place as the acolytes she had lived with for years stared at her like a Hollywood star. She must have been something to behold; dressed in a fine designer coat, matching cashmere mittens and scarf, and well groomed and fed. Y/N didn’t realize how starved for nutrients she truly was, as she noticed the lack of color in the other acolyte’s complexions, the thinness of their cheeks. 

“Remove the children from the room,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, his sword tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Feeding on children is a waste of time and energy.”

“Yes, Master,” Mrs. Sloane snapped her fingers, and Y/N sagged in relief when four acolytes under the age of eighteen were escorted back to safety. “Now… how will you select the group of fifteen?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, lips pursing, as he scanned the line of humans cowering in fear and awe. None of them had the same perfume-scented blood Y/N had, but Namjoon was expecting that. He really didn’t care either way which acolytes were picked, it wasn’t like Namjoon himself was going to be feeding from them. 

“I have an idea,” Jeongguk, who Y/N temporarily forgot was even present, dropped a pack of blood tubes onto the concrete floor and stepped forward. Trying not to budge, Y/N’s breath caught when Jeongguk hummed and looked her way. “Y/N, you go ahead and pick them out of us.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. Jeongguk wanted her to select people she grew up with for hordes of vampires to feed on at a party? Once aware that the coven she was placed with held little humanity, it was revealed that they had none. Jeongguk’s expression was positively delighted, taking in Y/N’s abject horror. 

“Go ahead, AB-,” Mrs. Sloane encouraged, her tone dripping with either jealousy or spite. Y/N thought if Mrs. Sloane wanted to serve vampires so badly, perhaps she should have taken her career to the cabaret. “Make haste. These acolytes have work to do, unlike yourself.”

“I cannot choose,” Y/N breathed, the twinkle in Jeongguk’s eyes brightening when she shrunk backwards. The acolytes in front of her began to murmur, as disobeying orders from a vampire was a serious offense. “Please, don’t make me…”

“Very well,” Jeongguk grabbed her by the shoulder, making her look directly into his soulless eyes. Y/N knew what was coming before Jeongguk even entered her mind, her skull starting to pound as he sorted through memories. “Warden. We’ll take the thirteen healthiest in this room.”

Y/N’s lower lip was wobbling again, noises all around of people being shuffled to and fro. 

“That’s two short–”

“Find me the acolyte Joseph. Y/N will be pleased to see him at the gala, no? And…” Jeongguk held up his hand to cut Mrs. Sloane off, eyes narrowing playfully when he found what he was looking for. Y/N frantically began to shake her head and chant ‘no’, but it was far too late. “The pretty blonde girl with the princess curls. Meredith.”

The memory had Y/N’s anxiety spiking acutely. Agonizing for days over the fact that her inability to fulfill Jeongguk’s request resulted in putting her friends in danger, she hardly got much sleep. Juliana meticulously hid her dark circles behind a skin tone matched concealer, and despite the inner wars she was fighting, Y/N’s appearance was sparkly and flawless. 

Skimming a hand over one of the gossamer dresses laying on the bed, nausea reared its ugly head. The cream color of the garment had her thinking about the uniforms of the acolytes. While Juliana was busy comparing the gowns to one another, Y/N began to pace slowly, trying to come up with some elaborate scheme to save her friends. When contemplating escape routes and disguises, Y/N got a whiff of sea salt and cedarwood. A pleasant smell, yes, but one Y/N had just begun to associate with a particular immortal. 

“Are you trying to pace your way through the floor, ma chérie?” Hoseok was in her doorframe once more, and apparently Seokjin had managed to convince him to wear a suit. It was the most dressed up Y/N had ever seen him, and she hated to admit to herself that he looked good in pressed black pants. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

Y/N looked down, her silk nightgown skimming her thighs and hugging parts of her body too closely. Swiftly, she wrapped her arms around herself to shield from Hoseok’s greedy roaming eyes. Hoseok loved to act falsely concerned about Y/N and her well being, but Y/N quickly found out that all Hoseok was was a drunken lech. In fact, once Y/N got over the size of the watch on his slim wrist, she saw the bottle of rum he was taking swigs from. 

“Do you not like the dresses Jimin picked out for you? How rude,” Hoseok tore his gaze from the swell of the girl’s hips to get a look at the gaudy gowns littered around the room. Turning up his nose, he scoffed at the selection. “It’s like he’s trying to turn you into Dracula’s bride.”

“I hate the color white,” Y/N blurted out, her maids all stopping what they were doing to gape at her. During the handful of incidents when Y/N dared to complain to the vampires, staff was not around. “The acolytes. We always had to wear white linens. I never wish to wear the color again.”

“Do you?” Hoseok purred, setting his rum onto one of her nightstands. Running his tongue over his fangs, Hoseok found the human girl’s terrible filter entertaining. “Then don’t wear white. Simple as that.”

“What?” Y/N stopped pacing, gawking at Hoseok like he grew a second head. He couldn’t be serious, Y/N’s brief astonishment washing away into suspicion at a hat’s drop. 

“Don’t wear white, chérie. There’s a storage room in the basement stuffed with gowns flown in from every fashion capital in the world, all tailored to your size. What color do you want to wear?” Hoseok liked to play with his food, and the sickly-sweet tablespoon of hope directed towards him from the human girl was enough to keep up the ‘nice guy’ act. 

“Are you toying with me?” Y/N saw through the act, drinking in his sharp jawline and alcohol reddened cheeks. “Won’t… Master Jimin be upset?”

“Jimin will survive. He’ll pout, but he can’t help his melodramatic tendencies. So pick a color, Y/N,” Hoseok grew impatient, the friendly act starting to become forced.

Y/N, still processing the unnatural consideration from Hoseok, studied the vampire. He was just as handsome as all the others, in an almost elvish way, his features angular. Truly, he was a vision– even down to his sun-weathered hands. Her mind then went to colors, but all the vibrant hues dancing through her mind made her frown. 

“Black.”

“Fitting,” Hoseok shook his head, snapping his fingers. “Juliana, fetch the girl her black dresses. The rest of you, get rid of anything remotely off-white in her closet. Happy, chérie?”

“Why do you talk like that?” Y/N spoke through the flurry of her maids tripping over their feet to fulfill Hoseok’s request, the vampire’s drawl odd to Y/N’s ears. 

“Are you referring to my accent?” Hoseok raised a brow, plucking up his bottle of rum again. “I’ve spent centuries in New Orleans, pet. I believe humans call it a Southern drawl.”

Y/N nodded without understanding. The furthest south Y/N ever went was Little Compton, which was still in the state of Rhode Island. Taking a swig of his rum, Hoseok smirked as the beginnings of trust in him began to form in the acolyte’s head. Before she could go completely schoolgirl on him, Hoseok began to take his leave with a threat filling the air. 

“By the way, chérie. I believe you’ve forgotten I can predict your every move. You will not successfully take yourself and your friends away from here tonight. I can Track you to the ends of the Earth.”

Despite the fact that it was November, Y/N ended up selecting a sleeveless, short floaty dress made of chiffon. The garment was unlike anything she had ever seen, rippled fabric attachments slipping over her elbows, and it displayed some of the parts of her body she was growing fond of: her legs and chest. After Hoseok’s reminder that she was trapped, instead of cowering in fear, Y/N decided to play the game. 

It was futile to try and escape. It was dangerous to try and help her friends. What Y/N could do was exploit some of the weaknesses of the coven– hence the sultry dress– and keep one eye on her friends during the gala, if possible. Wrapping her hand around the banister she was guided to by Juliana, Y/N took a moment to look down at the bustling, decked-out great hall. 

Pine trees studded with multicolored lights outlined the hall, and the empty room was transformed into a festive holiday party. Cocktail tables were placed, candles and trays of libations placed on top, and there was an orchestra clumped in one corner of the room playing lively music. The fires roaring had the room feeling quite toasty, but the sight of dozens of vampires milling around in finery has a shiver rolling down her spine. With the cursory glance, Y/N did not spot Sanctuary whites, which had her heart sinking. Clearing her throat, Y/N rolled her shoulders back and began her descent down the red carpeted staircase. 

Mingle, but do not say anything moronic. Eat, drink, dance. Do not cause any kind of scene. Do not let vampires touch you outside of the coven. You are here as an accessory. Do not embarrass us. 

Seokjin’s voice entered her mind, Y/N miraculously not tripping down the stairs in her stilettos, turning her chin to the side. Near the center of the room, Seokjin was speaking to a vampire that physically appeared to be in his late forties. His short hair was swept off his forehead, and he was in a fine tuxedo that Y/N had no doubt cost a small fortune. A strong hand pinching a champagne glass, Y/N watched him actually smile at the vampire he was talking to, but the grin never quite reached his carmine eyes. 

“Oh! Thank you,” Y/N was approached by a staff member almost as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, handing her a glass of bubbly. In one go, Y/N drained the flute, and it was replaced with a fresh one straight away. Glossed lips wrapping around the glass, her eyes narrowed when Jimin started slinking towards her. “Here we fucking go…”

“Dove, that’s not what I chose for you,” Jimin cocked his head, the buttons on his shirt loose and revealing his jutting collar bones. “Though… this is quite the choice, too.”

Jimin dragged his eyes up and down the girl’s figure, which was softer and curvier than it was just a week ago. Mouth filled with venom, Jimin giggled and threaded an arm through the girl’s, reveling in her stiffness when he started to pull her through the crowd. 

“That there is Sarah Berwind. She’s the guest of honor’s wife,” Jimin pointed to an elegant female vampire, dressed in a midnight blue gown. Her silvery blonde hair reminded her of Meredith, though when the vampire turned her head, there were kohl-lined red eyes giving her a reality check. “Over there, a few artists Yoongi invited. Yuki, the lovely woman in gold, she made her fortune in jewelry…”

Y/N didn’t particularly care about any of the vampires Jimin was pointing out. Her focus was solely on finding her friends, to somehow protect them from excessive harm. She knew Meredith was probably beside herself. Her attention was stolen when Jimin came to a stop, near the edge of the room. Jimin had led her straight to Yoongi at the edge of the cleared dancefloor. Y/N blamed Yoongi entirely for Seokjin assigning Namjoon to her as a bodyguard. The artist was listening to a gangly looking vampire, Yoongi’s long hair glossy under all of the lights. 

“So this is your newest source of inspiration. Bellissima,” the gangly vampire drank her in, Y/N’s skin crawling as his eyes lingered over her breasts. “I hear you are to begin modeling with Mr. Park here.”

Y/N was lucky she had been practicing her poker face all night. She had not a semblance of an idea of what the vampire was talking about, but the thought of sitting with Jimin for hours in various poses made her want to vomit into a passing by champagne bucket. Yoongi’s expression was stormy when she didn’t reply right away, Y/N translating the look into a warning. 

“Yes, sir. I can hardly wait,” Y/N lied, her voice high and sweet. Yoongi, stone faced, thought the girl was laying it on too thickly, but the dolt of an immortal beside him bought the lie instantly. Fledglings. “When are we to start modeling, again, Master Yoongi?”

“Wow. Your coven still has acolytes using titles?”

“Our coven is old-school, and that’s the way it should be. That’s all, Damien,” Yoongi waved a hand, the vampire Damien sucking his teeth but getting the hint. He disappeared into the crowd. “You do not have to be a sarcastic little bitch, acolyte.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N squeaked like she was slapped, Jimin laughing and stroking the back of her head. 

“Your behavior tonight is being watched. I suggest you hold your honeyed tongue,” Yoongi’s voice was gruff and low, and Y/N could feel it in her chest. Before she could respond, the music cut off, and someone was clinking a knife against a glass. 

“Welcome to The Breakers. The orchestra has composed a waltz for tonight, and I’d like to invite you all to the dance floor,” Seokjin, the perfect picture of geniality, addressed the partygoers. “As the designer of this estate, Taehyung Kim will be leading the dance, accompanied by our coven’s acolyte.”

Y/N’s head swiveled like a barn owl’s, dozens of pairs of vampiric eyes were on her. Seokjin’s wicked smile finally reached his eyes, knowing Y/N would be mortified by the spectacle. The silence deafening, Jimin’s arm was replaced, that time by an arm clad in familiar tweed. Taehyung, with his shiny gelled waves, peered down at her impassively. 

“I do not know how to dance the waltz,” Y/N panicked, knowing that every immortal in the room could hear her strained whisper into Taehyung’s ear. 

“You will,” Taehyung murmured darkly, and Y/N’s spine went rigid when a new skill was downloaded into her head from Seokjin. If Seokjin could simply Compell knowledge into her head on a moment’s notice, what else could he make her believe?

In the center of the dance floor, Y/N knew exactly how to stand, effortlessly collecting Taehyung’s broad palm, her free hand sliding up the lapel of his grey jacket and resting over his sluggishly beating heart. Like he had done thousands of times before, Taehyung slung his forearm around the small of Y/N’s back. Without further ado, the orchestra struck up a swelling, vibrant tune, and they were off. Y/N didn’t even have to think as her feet moved in time with her partner, maintaining eye-contact as they danced across the floor. In mere seconds, couples of vampires joined the two of them, so at the very least, Y/N wasn’t the complete center of attention. 

Taehyung was one of the most elusive vampires, aside from Yoongi. In fact, she had spoken to Taehyung the least during the week she had spent at The Breakers, mostly because he was often away on business or walking the grounds of the estate by himself. Though undead, his palm was warm against hers, and Y/N slotted her fingers between his just to feel how her blood brought him back to life. He moved gracefully, leading them around the dance floor, all while drinking in every inch of her face. 

“Where are my friends?” Y/N asked after a few moments, on edge that she hadn’t seen a single human aside from staff since the evening began. For all she knew, Meredith or Joseph could have four vampires latched onto them while she danced with the devil. 

“What’s the point in telling you? Nothing you do can change their fate,” Taehyung’s baritone voice was flat, punctuating his point by dipping Y/N low to the ground. He was so close to her face, Y/N could see that his eyelids were different from one another. 

“Then there’s no harm in telling me where they are. I simply want to say goodbye,” Y/N argued, slightly breathless when Taehyung pulled her back up. One of her long, pointed nails traced along the handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket. 

“I thought you were told not to weave fallacies. You continue to believe you can outsmart us,” Taehyung spat back quietly, the fact that they were quite close to the wind section of the orchestra disguising his words from other guests. The set of the human girl’s mouth was firm and unbudging, Taehyung somewhat respecting her for digging her heels in. She might look meek and mild, but the acolyte had a strong moral compass– a death sentence. He decided to throw her a bone. “The acolytes are in the library, the cabaret girls were placed in the music room. Seokjin doesn’t want you near either of those rooms tonight.”

“He seems preoccupied schmoozing with the ‘guest of honor’,” Y/N couldn’t even see Seokjin, but the last time she did, he was still chatting away with the graying vampire named ‘Berwind’. “If there’s nothing I can do to protect them, afford me the decency to apologize to them.”

“Apologize? Isn’t it a great honor for you holy rollers to even be in the presence of vampires? With that logic, they should be kissing your feet for the opportunity to be here.”

“Obviously, that’s not the case. While I might still hold onto the hope that I can outsmart one of you, you hold onto the belief that acolytes end up at Sanctuaries on their own volition.”

There was a count of eight where Taehyung and Y/N stared each other down, flawlessly in sync as they waltzed. She spoke no more, nor did Taehyung, for the remainder of the song, dewy sweat coating her skin from both the undivided attention and exertion from dancing. When a final note of a viola rang out into the air, Y/N held her breath as they bowed to each other, Taehyung brushing his lips over the back of the girl’s hand reluctantly. 

“Do what you want, but reap what you sow.”

Taehyung evaporated like smoke. His duties were carried out, he played the game. Decorated, played nice, and danced with the human girl. Whatever happened after that, Taehyung couldn’t find it in him to care. 

Meanwhile, arms still extended and molded to Taehyung’s shape, Y/N was left entirely by herself, by the grace of God. It was comical, really, how she was able to scamper from the dance floor, clinging to the walls and feeling her way to the library. Another song was already beginning, mortal vital fluid and liquor intoxicated vampires elegantly swaying in throngs. Peripheral vision caught Jeongguk pouring his champagne flute over the décolletage of a short, dark skinned vampire woman, his fingers tangled in her silken braids and his tongue dragging down the skin of her throat. 

Jittery, Y/N was halfway to the library when she heard something quite queer. A muffled, high-pitched sound coming from the front entrance of the mansion had her freezing. The foyer had twin doors on the right and left: the ladies’ reception room, and the male counterpart directly across. Ice crystals formed in her gut, the sounds growing more agonized. It was a chorus of voices wailing, Y/N ducking into a hallway that connected to the foyer in order to find the source of the sounds. Not a soul was in the foyer, not even the human boys that handled valet, Y/N’s knees knocking together when a particularly horrendous female scream pierced her ears. 

“HELP, PLEASE! OH GOD, PLEASE! DON’T KILL ME!” 

Y/N’s skin flashed ice cold. Of course, she stupidly sprung into action, her stilettos falling off in the process, darting towards the gentleman’s reception room. She was human, after all. A desperate cry for help could not be ignored. 

“N-NO! NO, NO, YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED T-TO, YOU! YOU, YOU–”

Y/N pushed the heavy door open, bewildered, not understanding the sight in front of her at all. It was like the most horrific nightmare her brain could conjure, but it was real, it had to be. Her subconscious never considered something so evil. 

There was a young woman dressed in a fringed flapper dress, crouched and cornered on the floor and trembling so hard Y/N thought she was seizing. That, and she was nearly doused in crimson blood, shielding herself from the vampire standing over her, his foot crushing her ankle bone with a sickening crunch. The woman shrieked horribly, the whole floor covered in streaks of crimson. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Not even three paces away was a messy heap of limbs, limp and useless. 

Delicate, white-blonde curls matted with blood. A dimpled smile ironed out into a slack-jawed scream of desperation. White linens now permanently stained with clots of gore, motionless and skin nearly blue. Tossed in a pile, mangled and drained, were Meredith and Joseph, open-eyed and dead. 

The scream that came from Y/N was molten core in origin. It pierced through the merriment of the holiday party like banshee’s wail, the last piece of Y/N’s heart exploding into pieces. Joseph’s beautiful amber eyes were glassy and unseeing. Meredith’s hand was weakly curled around Joseph’s stained shirt sleeve. Nothing but the sound of her own screams registered to Y/N. 

What happened next, Y/N would never be able to get out of her mind. By the time her howling brought the orchestra rooms over to a startling halt, the vampire tormenting the young cabaret worker had Y/N pinned to the wall by her throat. It was Edmund Berwind, the moustached ‘guest of honor’ who had drained her two closest friends dry, stinking of liquor and death. Crushing her vocal chords, Y/N’s screams turned into choked barks, her nails scraping fabric wallpaper from behind her. 

“Aren’t you sweet, honey? I’ve heard–”

Y/N didn’t get the chance to hear what else Berwind was about to taunt her with. While the cabaret girl sobbed in agony, cradling her flattened ankle, Berwin was torn from her and Y/N could only collapse beside the corpses of her friends. 

He entered the room like the Grim Reaper. Whooshing through the air with precision was a metallic sound followed by wet, repulsive squelching. Namjoon, in one fell swoop, unsheathed his sword and slashed forward, severing Berwind’s top half from the bottom. Arterial spurts of blackened immortal blood sprayed the entire reception room, as well as dowsing Y/N completely, the viscous hot fluid running down her face. 

The body fell directly next to Y/N. Desiccated intestines spilled from both cavities of the bodies, followed by other equally ancient organs, Y/N’s skin coated with the blood of her former friends and the gore of a slain vampire. Berwind’s body was still twitching, the severed lower half contorting grotesquely while the top gushed liters of blood, gore, and tissue. Y/N was still screaming, soaking in gore, waiting for the angel of death. She hadn’t been able to spare her friends in time, and she was sure to meet her end considering how furious her ‘bodyguard’ seemed. It was all over. 

Namjoon found a spare pillow set on a cushy chair, using it to mop the filthy mess Berwind made on his sword. With disgust, he used the wallpaper to clean his gloves, large streaky prints staining the walls. Weeping hollowly, Y/N stroked Meredith’s lifeless curls from her face, anticipating her momentary death. One hand slipping over one of Berwind’s eviscerated kidneys spilling onto the floor, Y/N glanced at Namjoon one last time. 

“I Compelled her to avoid being touched.”

Namjoon didn’t answer Seokjin, who promptly locked the door to the reception room. Namjoon kicked the top half of Berwind’s hemorrhaging corpse, fat with too much blood, off to the corner of the room. Using his jacket sleeve to remove eviscerated organs from his face, Namjoon sheathed his sword and laughed at his elder. 

“I’ll leave you to clean up the mess this time, hyung.”

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

[hamburgerndsprite]

Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 1

Note: This is my first time creating a list of my favorite fanfics. I’ve been on Tumblr for quite a while, and it can be exhausting to sift through all my liked posts to find a specific story. So, I'm putting together this list to make it easier for myself and others looking for some good fanfics to read. I’m still a bit unsure about how to structure this list, but let’s give it a try! Also, all the moodboards are edited by me and therefore I request everyone not to repost them as theirs.

[Masterlist]

[OT7]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Coming Home by moonstruck-poet

Pairing- Kang Taehyun x sister!OC, BTS x platonic! OC Summary - Kang Ari comes back from the military for a couple of days to surprise her brother on his birthday.

➺ The Gateway to Your Heart by justimajin

Pairing: OT7 x Reader  Genre: Fluff, Cuteness, Sprinkles of Angst ↳ Magic Shop AU Words: 7.2k Warnings: None!  Summary:  ❝You gave me the best of me, so you give you the best of you.❞  

➺ Requested Drabble by minniepetals

Genre: CEO AU Synopsis: “I love you and I thought everything was okay but I guess not...“

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Nervous by etherealacoustic

Pairing - Kim Namjoon x Female! Reader Summary - Your husband Namjoon and BTS get an invitation to the White House. He's nervous so you comfort him.

➺ His Goodluck Charm by etherealacoustic

Pairing - Kim Namjoon x wife Reader Summary - It'll soon be Namjoon's performance but you had been travelling and were not present during the start.

{SERIES}

➺ Nine Months by gimmesumsuga

Summary: “Your due date has come and gone. Namjoon’s excited and you’re uncomfortable, but you’re both equally as impatient to meet your little girl.” Pairings: Namjoon x Reader Rating: 15+ Warnings:  Pregnancy, Birth, and all the icky bodily fluids that come along with it.

➺ A Dangerous Game by chaoticpuff17

Genre: A Yandere Mafia Au

➺ Guilty by xjoonchildx

pairing: namjoon X reader summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Real by Jiminrings

pairing: seokjin x reader wordcount: 13k glimpse: single dad!jin has all the money to blow off in the world but not time, and swim instructor!y/n just nEEDS to meet this student’s dad who’s never there to pick her up :D ft. someone’s ex that just had to be an olympic swimmer

{SERIES}

➺ The Profit & Love Statement by justimajin

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader ↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ↳ Office AU ↠ Word Count: 105.9k / 24 parts ↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

➺ The a-listers by httpknjoon

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader genres | humor/crack, fluff, angst, actors!au plot | Meet Y/N and Jin, two of Hollywood's hottest celebrities and couple — or are they? Media and fans have been wanting to hear a confirmation for years now. But you two are always good at confusing everyone. Watch as everyone else play this guessing game of what's the relationship between Y/N and Jin.

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ CEO Yoongi by jungshookz

→ pairing: min yoongi x secretary reader  → genre: ceo!au, clumsy!y/n because that’s always nice, jimin is ur best friend, floofy fluff, a touch of nsfw aka office sex → wordcount: 21k+

➺ Requested Drabble by jungshookz

summary- oc has this big ol crush on yoongi and she’s like hella shy around him and they’re paired up for a project and oc is debating if she should say “can you help me” or “can you hold this” but it comes out like “can you hold me” and cheeky yoongi actually does it hehe

➺ Like flowers we bloom by cupofteaguk

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader genre: bad boy au | fluff warnings: slow burn, some knowledge of flowers, yoongi is a meanie in the beginning </3  word count: 5k  summary: in which a garden isn’t the only thing you’re building with Min Yoongi 

➺ No Choice (next to you) by gukyi

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 13k summary:the pros of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: cheap, furnished, close to campus, in a gorgeous old victorian conversion home, and right next to the greek takeout place. the cons of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: min yoongi, senior member of the beta tau sigma fraternity, and his party-throwing, vodka-loving, ruckus-making fraternity buddies, are your neighbors.

➺ One Chance by out-of-jams

↠ Summary ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected. Word Count: 7.4k Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

{SERIES}

➺ It's a Reverse Basket by justimajin

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader ⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU ⇝ Word Count: 90.5k / 21 parts   ⇝ Summary: The goal has never been in your favor, and despite all your best efforts, you don’t think it ever will be. But that’s right when you finally get the chance to turn things around, to do things the way you’ve always wanted to, and to go after what you truly love. However the problem isn’t if you can do it, it’s how much are you willing to do...?

➺ Love is... on tour by httpknjoon

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader genre | enemies to lovers synopsis | Tell everyone you know, Love Is... On Tour! Popstar!YN is set to start her sophomore world tour with her new hit songs, sparkly outfits, and talented live band. There are 352 days of this tour, which means 352 days of YN and her new bassist, Yoongi getting on each other's skin in every way possible.

➺ Fail-Safe by Jiminrings

pairing: yoongi x reader glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration. alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least. warning: [ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

➺ Greedy by xjoonchildx

Pairing: yoongi x reader Summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now. until you.

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ No Time For Love by Jiminrings

pairing: doctor!hoseok x nurse!y/n wordcount: 3k glimpse: "If something happens to you, you come to me — not to the receptionist you like chatting with on your lunch breaks."

➺ Base Line by Jiminrings

pairing: hoseok x y/n wordcount: 3k glimpse: hoseok swears that you’re intolerable, but maybe that’s just because you don’t greet him good morning like you usually do

{SERIES}

➺ Guarded by xjoonchildx

Pairing: Hoseok x reader Summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ A Bite of Sin (M) by sangsanghaebwa

Genre: Smut, vampire!AU, (a bit of angst?) Word count: 4748 Description: After one fateful accident your entire life changes, but so does Jimin, leaving you bitter and lonely until you both break down. Warnings: Mature content

➺ While You're Sleeping by parkdatjimin

warnings: heavy angst, reader unleashes some insecurities to Jimin while he's sleeping, mentions of divorced parents and anxiety wc: 1.6K

➺ To Love You by alessiamalfoyzabini

Pairing | wanted!Jimin x princess!Reader Word Count | 16,1k Summary | You have been separated from your beloved and your kingdom is under the rule of a heartless man, but all is not lost.

➺ Sweetheart by indgio

↳ pairing park jimin x f!reader ↳ genre e2l / lawyer!au / wc 2.8k ↳ warnings very heated make-out session LMAO / ft. bff!taekook / oc is honestly just full of rage

➺ Blooming Days by bluekyun

Genre: fluff, smut, angst & humour Word Count: 15.390 Rating: NC-17 Summary: A typical night for you begins at the library in your favorite chair underneath the lamp in the corner, only to be picked up at 3am by your best friend, Jimin. Despite having slept over in his room several times before, this certain night in Sigma house leads to far more than you ever imagined. But what is to come of your friendship once you reveal those two little lines that will change your lives forever?

➺ Rebound by out-of-jams

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Word Count: 7k. Warnings/Genre: College!au. s2l. Explicit language. Alcohol use. Slight angst. Jealousy. Pining. One shot. PG 16. ↠ Summary ↞ Who cared if Kim Taehyung slept with other people? You sure as hell didn’t. That was what friends with benefits meant, right? No, it didn’t matter that you were halfway in love with him. And no, you sure as hell weren’t going to try and make him jealous with a complete stranger. Nope, not at all. Right? Right.

➺ What I did for Love by krreader

pairing: park jimin x reader genre: angst ; fluff ; mentions of smut summary: Park Jimin had long given up on hope of finding love and thought being a sugar daddy was just an easier way to get what he wanted. but when you start developing feelings for him, to a point where he knew you loved him, he couldn’t help but wonder what love might feel like... 

{SERIES}

➺ Heartburn by Jiminrings

pairing: jimin x reader glimpse: you know it’d happen eventually and you’ve been preparing yourself for the impending hurt — you just don’t want it now. Not now when it’s nearing jimin’s little sister’s birthday; not now when you can swear love isn’t the only thing you can put on the table. alternatively, jimin emotionally cheats on you while your wedding’s six months away. warnings: heavy angst (pls i am once again apologizing to the people that cried bc of this ily), emotional cheating, emotional constipation n baggage, insecurities, broken relationship w parents, intense longing and hurt i can't put into words + specified tags in each installment!

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Falling in crayolove by jungshookz

✎ pairing: kim taehyung x reader ✎ genre: kindergartenteacher!au, workingman!au, F L U F F, tiny bit of angst at the start :-( but this is literally 98% fluff; y/n and taehyung are like two little kids with little crushes on each other ✎ trigger warning(s): implications of getting an abortion!!   ✎ wordcount: 10.5k ✎ summary: y/n is a single mom and taehyung is a single kindergarten teacher. emma knows exactly what she needs to do.

➺ Stuck with You by jungshookz

❥ pairing: kim taehyung x reader ❥ genre: university!au, enemies-to-lovers, fratboy!tae??, comedy that’ll either make you chuckle out loud or roll your eyes and snoRT or maybe u won’t laugh that’s cool too, domestic fluff because i want to go grocery shopping with tae toO (but also fluff in general!!), smutty smut so make sure to read this with your phone’s brightness lowered all the dang way, hi @ librarian!namjoon!!! fratboy!jungkook is also in here  ❥ wordcount: 37k ❥ summary: kim taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things that have ever happened to you. 

➺ In Bloom {M} by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Tattooed&Pierced!Taehyung x Wife!Reader WordCount: 6.2k Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut Summary:  A tattoo artist taehyung, and a florist's wife reader, have their shops side by side, and one day they fight, and taehyung feels bad because of which he visits her with their daughter but she’s very angry, so he plans a trip to take her to a garden where they met for the first time and they make up, with some smut and the reader revealing she’s expecting.

➺ Swoon by minisugakoobies

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, non-Idol!AU Word Count: 3.6k Summary: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”  Warnings: swearing, kissing, Tae's wearing his red leather jacket from his Paris trip, we've also got Disco Jungkook and Harley Quinn Jimin in here

➺ Soft Spot by v-hope

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2k Summary: "where Tae is super soft for the reader who is a part of the staff and everyone starts noticing."

{SERIES}

➺ Catching a Case of Doctor Blues by justimajin

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader  ⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ↳ Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU  ⇢ Word Count: 67.4k / 20 parts ⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye...

[ JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONE-SHOTS}

➺ Requested drabble by jungshookz

summary- jungkook and yn do this thing where they fake marriage proposals to get free stuff in restaurants until jungkook is actually seriously proposing to his long time gf yn and she doesn't get the clue

➺ if-then by Jiminrings

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 7k Glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively. alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset. Warning: [ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

➺ Mature by Jiminrings

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 8k Glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed. alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea. Warning: [ push n pull fic YIPPPEEEEE, fluff, angst, So Much Yearning, friends to lovers trope, jealousy, dunking on a stewpid jk (as one does), arguments that kinda hit home, redemption!! ]

➺ Out of Gas? {M} by 97kuu

Paring: Jungkook x reader! Genre; jungkookbestfriend! Friends to lovers! WC; under 3k Summary; It was a setup between Taehyung, namjoon and Jungkook to get him to hook up with you in the car. However, his guilty heart and physical desire revealed that he wanted more than what he was willing to confess that night..

➺ Fifth Wish by Jiminrings

pairing: jungkook x reader wordcount: 18k Glimpse: jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you. Warning: [ angst, unrequited love (at first), emotional constipation, jk is Very Frustrating to be with, so much pining, the constant repetition of the notion that one must amount to something to be deserving of love, rlly wholesome fluff, mentions of blood n injuries, whole 360 redemption arc dw i am not evil ]

➺ Tutus & Tiaras (M) by 1kook

DILF!JK SPECIAL! rating m (18+) word count 10k summary: your first pregnancy through the lens of your husband

➺ Gamer Boy {M} by hoebii

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader Genre : Established Relationship!Au, Smut Rating : 18+ Warnings : sexual content, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism I guess?  Wc : 2.3k

[borathae]

moonlight

"Taehyung asks you to sneak out with him and you end up making passionate love to him in a hayloft."

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: a romantic horseback ride in the moonlight, passionate sex in a hayloft, soft but mean Dom!Taehyung, sub!Reader, listen he's a tease 100, neck kisses, body worshipping, breast worship, nipple play & sucking, oral sex (f.receiving), he licks her over her panties ngng, a very quick rimjob, orgasm control, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), dirty talk, praise, strength kink, good girl kink, he calls her his slut once, the title Sir falls like once, doggy style to pronebone, clit spanking with his cock, frotting, he kinda describes to her in vivid detail how he'd take her anal virginity jsjsjs, he is so unhinged and sexy, subby girl tears, he's the safest Dom, a huge creampie, cuddly aftercare, they're so in love <3

Wordcount: 6.8k

a/n: this is the second story based on my fellow tae girlies' wishes. i needed to write something about them in a hayloft. i would say that it takes place three days after they returned from their magical holiday in Caerula Luna. have fun besties hehe 💙

You haven’t been asleep for long when someone shakes you awake again. You open your eyes, meeting glowing ruby eyes. 

“Who are you?” you feel awake instantly, tensing up in fright.

“It’s me. Tae.”

“Oh god Tae, you just scared me so bad”, you whine, relaxing slowly as the shock still sits deep in your sleepy mind.

“Why?” he asks, blinking his eyes at you in the darkness. It is rather hypnotizing to watch his two glowing orbs appear and disappear repeatedly. 

“Because you shook me awake and then stared at me in complete darkness with your red eyes like a creep.”

“Ah yes, you cannot see in the darkness. Forgive me, I forgot”, he says and lays himself on top of you to reach your bedside lamp.

You laugh, patting his butt. 

“Gosh you silly.” The lights turn on. “No Tae, too bright.”

Taehyung ignores you, straddling your lap. He giggles, rocking his hips back and forth while his hands dimple the pillow on each side of your head. He is in a flowy blouse and skin tight trousers, wearing jewellery. Almost as if he dressed up for you.

You let out a fond scoff and throw your arm over your eyes, rubbing his thigh mindlessly with your other hand.

“You’re lucky you’re cute”, you mumble with a smile on your lips.

Taehyung leans down and places affectionate kisses along your jawline and neck, eliciting purrs of contentment from you. He also stubs you with the tip of his nose every now and then. 

“I truly have good reasons for waking you”, he speaks softly between kisses.

“Mhm, they better be good”, you are joking, making him smile against your skin. He dances his fingertips along your arms until he has your hands under them. He takes them, holding them tightly as he straightens up.

“Do you want to sneak out with me?”

“Huh?”

“Sneak out with me. Please.” 

“Sneak out? Who are we sneaking out from?”

Taehyung shrugs his shoulders, grinning boyishly.

“Just no one in particular. It sounds more exciting this way.”

You really love his imaginative mind and how he finds so much joy in role playing. Not only in sexual ways, but in general. Taehyung really loves to daydream about different scenarios and then act them out with one of you. He is so adorable.

“Fine.” You slide your hands from his hold to caress his thighs. “Let’s assume that we’re sneaking out, where are we going?”

“That you will only find out once you come with me.”

You laugh.

Taehyung grins. 

“Okay fine, you’ve got my interest piqued. I’ll come with you.”

“Yippie”, Taehyung exclaims and rolls off of you, picking you up bridal style.

“Tae, oh god warn me next time”, you laugh, throwing your head back as he twirls with you.

He sets you down soon after, taking you by your hand to lead you outside. Your journey takes you out of your wing and the estate. His horse is waiting at the end of the stairs.

“What’s Starlight doing here?”

“She shall be our method of escape. Now may I?”

“What are you gonna do?”

Taehyung places his hands on your hips, “allow me to show you.”

“Okay?”

He picks you up and lifts you onto the horse so you were sitting on it sideways. He keeps an arm around your thighs, mounting the saddle in a skilful movement. 

So now you are sitting in front of him while he keeps you steady with his arms. He meets your giddy gaze, giving you a smile.

“Shall we escape, my darling?”

“Yeah, let’s escape”, you say, resting your head against his chest.

Taehyung clicks his tongue to get the horse to move. The horse trots off, walking slowly so you would have it comfortable.

“Oh god.” You snuggle closer, giggling. “This is this craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Isn’t it so wonderful?”

“Yeah, it’s so romantic.”

“Indeed it is.” He agrees and sighs. “Oh darling, the night is wonderful. I am so delighted to spend it with you.”

“Me too. Where are we going?”

“Just someplace no one will ever find us.”

You smile. That doesn’t sound bad at all.

Your journey takes you away from the estate, past meadows and through the forest until another meadow is before your eyes. In the middle of it, an old barn is standing, waiting to be used again.

“Do you see the building in the distance?” Taehyung asks you.

“Are we going there?”

“Indeed we are. We must take shelter before the weather changes.”

You look up at the sky. It is so clear that one can see every single star in the universe. You feel yourself smiling. Taehyung is being playful again.

“Thankfully we found it when we did. I would have hated to get wet.”

“Indeed”, Taehyung agrees, sneaking a glance at you. He is visibly giddy because you are playing along.

Taehyung helps you off Starlight once you have reached the barn.

“Do you perhaps want to close your eyes for me?” he asks.

“Don’t tell me you have something prepared”, you say, closing your eyes.

“Perhaps I have”, he says and takes your hand, “open them once I tell you to.”

“Okay I will. Gosh Tae, you’re getting me so excited right now.”

He chuckles, leading you and his horse inside the barn. He ties Starlight to one of the pillars then wraps his arm around your waist.

“Don’t frighten, I will jump.”

“Ju-aah!”

Your feet leave the ground as Taehyung leaps up onto the second floor. He lands without sound, setting you down carefully.

“Holy moly, that was so scary”, you curse.

“Forgive me, but the good news is that you can open your eyes now.”

You open your eyes to dozens and dozens of candles illuminating a small area of the hay loft. Taehyung laid out a blanket on top of the hay and made it even more comfortable with pillows. 

“Tae”, you gasp, looking at him in flabbergasted breathlessness.

“Surprise.” He smiles. “You mentioned how you wanted to try love making in a hay loft and so I figured that I could fulfil this wish of yours.”

“Tae, oh my god…”

“Obviously only if you wish the same. I brought many blankets so if you only want to talk or hug or fall asleep again, we can do so as well. I merely thought that we could do what we couldn’t do at your grandparents’ home.”

He studies your features shyly.

“What’s the matter? Why are you not saying anything? Do you not like it?”

You shake your head and close the distance, hugging him tightly.

“I love it so much. I’m just speechless because it’s so nice. Oh Tae, I love it so much.”

Taehyung hugs you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your pulse is heightened. 

“You do?”

“I do. So much. Gosh, you are so cute.” You melt into him. “I can’t believe you prepared all of this. It’s so romantic. And beautiful. And nice. And amazing.”

He breaks away just so he can gaze at you, holding both your hands as he does.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it so much. Gosh Tae, thank you so much. I appreciate it so much.”

He smiles, guiding your hands to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles.

“Based on how often you said so much, I can sense your honesty”, he jokes, making you laugh.

“I am. I’m honest.”

His eyes soften. “I love you very much, my darling.”

“I love you too, Tae darling.”

You and he gaze at the other, sharing silence. You are the one to break said silence, showing him your giddiness by lowering your eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, it’s just weird to know that we’re going to have sex now.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…” You meet his eyes. “I’m more of a spontaneous lover. I don’t know how to start stuff like this.”

“I see. Shall I start it then?”

“Yes.”

“May I help you relax?”

You feel tingles in your stomach. Yup, he is definitely doing magic already. With a fluttering pulse you nod your head.

Taehyung closes the distance with a kiss to your neck. You roll your head to the side, sighing his name. His kiss feels so good when it promises sweet love making. His big, tender hands let go of yours so they can travel along your torso. Being touched likes this truly shows you how thin the fabric of your sleeping clothes truly is. The heat of his touch is sinking into the deepest fibres of your body, exciting you comfortably.

“You have the most beautiful neck, my darling”, Taehyung whispers.

“Tae…”

“Mhm”, he bites your earlobe playfully, making you gasp and clutch his waist. It brings in his flowy shirt, showing your hands how small his waist actually was. “Allow me to help you get comfortable.”

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles, squeezing your waist, “mhm, don’t test me. I might be tempted to get rough with you.”

He is being playful, making you giggle and squirm. He definitely knows how to get you into the right mindset.

He chuckles and presses his lips to your ear.

“Jump.”

You do so, sighing when he catches you in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, burying your hands deep in his dark locks. They feel a little cold from the nightly ride, hugging your fingers softly. 

He is gazing up at you, giving you his giddiest smile, “my beautiful. You are so incredibly beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful too. Oh Tae”, you say, claiming his lips in a kiss.

Taehyung sighs, kissing you back eagerly. He craved the taste of you and the softness of your lips. 

Lost in the kiss, he carries you to the blanket. He kneels down, making sure to lie you down carefully. Once you are on your back, he places himself over you, kissing you like this while his hips move against you carefully. 

It isn’t long that you have to break the kiss to gasp and look at him. Your legs squeeze his waist, your fingers fall from his hair to grasp his upper arms instead.

“Is this alright for me to do?” he makes sure, caressing your cheeks.

“Yes”, you sigh, rolling your hips into him. He shivers from the sensation, moaning quietly. He is getting hard. It turns you on a lot.

“You are so beautiful. Oh darling, you are so beautiful”, he whispers, making your heart race. 

“Do you love me?”

“I love you like the moon loves the sun. Because without her, he wouldn’t shine.”

“Oh god”, you giggle, hiding away in his arm. “Taehyung, oh my god. This was so romantic.” 

He smiles fondly, kissing your newly exposed neck and jawline.

“You are adorable, my sweetest”, he whispers and moves the collar of your dress aside so his lips could worship your shoulder and collarbone. He caresses the parts he isn’t currently kissing. His fingertips are so tender against your body.

Only once he truly kissed every inch of the exposed spot, does he move on to another. He guides your head into a different position with his hand gently around your throat. 

The way you gaze up at him makes his heart feel alive. Submission. The kind of safe, warm submission only someone dearly trusted can bring out.

“Do you feel good?” he asks.

“Yes”, you sigh.

“That makes me happy. Relax, my darling. I have you”, he says and exposes your other shoulder to shower you in the adoration you deserve. It is the same than before and yet different because you beg him for more very soon. “What do you want?”

“Can you touch my boobs?” 

“Of course, everything my darling wants. I am here to serve you.” 

And so it happens that Taehyung kisses your exposed shoulder and sucks hickeys to your neck and collarbone while his left hand cradles your breasts. He massages them gently over the thin material of your sleeping gown, dragging the warmest tingles to the surface. He squeezes them as tenderly as possible and rubs your nipples when the affection brings them to the surface.

“Oh god”, you get out breathlessly.

“Is this good for you?” 

“Yes…”

“Good, that’s good. You are so beautiful, my darling sweetheart.” 

Taehyung fixes the collar of your dress before he takes another path. He wouldn’t want you to feel chilly in the nightly air. He kisses his way to your chest, moaning in delight because there is nothing better than worshiping you. You should know how remarkable you are. Taehyung is still struck in awe about your magical potential, how you took them to another realm and gave them a chance at being human again. He is grateful for it, grateful that he got to experience racing heartbeats and proper warmth again. And he needs you to feel the appreciation he harbors for you. There is so much of it. And it is never ending.

“My beautiful darling. How I adore you.” 

He is careful at first, only brushing his lips over the paths of your breasts. But you moan and sigh so sweetly and your nipples are so hard each time he brushes against them, that Taehyung cannot control himself any longer. He wraps his lips around one of them, sucking and licking the swollen bud through your dress. 

“Ahng”, the noise you let out assures him that he is doing a good job. You arch your back, chasing the fiery sensation. The fabric in his mouth is soaked entirely, his mouth is so warm. You can feel each lick. But the true peak of his affection is when he releases your nipple to suck on the other and the coldness of the air soaks the wet fabric. The spot is freezing, forcing goosebumps to the surface of your sensitive skin. 

“Tae…” 

Taehyung purrs happily as he sucks on your nipple, sliding his fingers to the other to massage it. It is cold to the touch. The fabric sticks to it and gives him a perfect feel of its shape. So he merely brushes his fingertips over it, giving it minimal attention so you can continue to shiver underneath him. 

It isn’t until Taehyung is stuck in the blissful moment of changing sides with both hands playing with your nipples that you stop him. You tug on a bundle of his hair, whimpering softly.

“Stop, please.”

He sits up. Your legs are around his hips that way.

“Did you change your mind?” 

You shake your head vigorously, “it, it makes me want to cum.”

He smiles, “well this…oh darling, this”, he leans down again, nipping at your breasts, “this is indeed a predicament. What should I do with you, mhm?” 

The teasing tone in his honey voice makes you shudder.

“Oh god, Tae.”

“May I continue? Is this your wish?”

“Yes”, you whimper, arching your back.

“How wonderful. Relax, you are in safe hands”, he whispers sweetly and gives you time to breathe by guiding his kisses to your stomach instead. He moans and sighs, worshiping every inch of it because you deserve to feel loved. 

He loves you so much and he hopes that through his kisses and touches he can make you experience it. Oh, how he adores you. How he wants to make you feel good. 

It isn’t long and he has reached your legs. Your sleeping gown ends a little over your knees. He stops, playing with the hem of it.

“May I lift it?” 

“Yes”, you answer him, lifting your hips eagerly to which he laughs and pins them down again.

“Patience. I shall tell you when you need to raise them.”

“Are you taking it slow?”

“Of course I am, my darling”, he assures you with teasing playfulness in his voice, smiling against your skin when you whine in impatience. But he doesn’t let you rush him. He kisses your thighs slowly and thoroughly. He sucks hickeys into your skin, gives the softest parts gentle love bites, guides his hands over your silken skin. He wants you to feel breathless from all the love he pours into his affection. 

And you do. You feel breathless, bucking your hips up in impatience. Your pussy aches. You haven't felt her throb and pulse as much as she does right now in a long time. You experienced the tenderness of his lips all over your body and you need it on your pussy. Now. Instantly. Right this second.

“Please.”

“Please what? You have to tell me what you need”, he coos, head hidden in your dress.

“Lick me.”

“Like this?” he taunts, guiding his tongue down your inner thigh. He is doing this on purpose. He is acting oblivious just to get you to tell him. He is playing with you because he is mean like that.

“No”, you mewl, shivering.

“What possibly could you mean then?”

“Oh god Tae, please just lick my pussy”, you beg, fucking the air aggressively. 

He chuckles, pinning you down easily.

“You are adorable.” 

“Please.”

“Adorable. You are just adorable”, he rasps and places his mouth against your pussy. He darts his tongue out, licking a thick stripe along your sensitive heat.

“Aah a-ah, aah, aah, a-ah”, you are noisy instantly, twisting the blanket because you cannot twist his hair.

It is important to mention that you are still wearing your panties at this point of the night. And that Taehyung doesn’t let this stop him from tasting you. He sucks out your taste, purring deeply because there is no taste more saccharine than that of your heat. Especially when it is soaked deep into your panties and he needs to work for it. He sucks and sucks and sucks until the fabric is soaked in his spit. 

“So sweet. My darling’s so sweet”, he lulls and presses his tongue against your clothed clit. He uses his neck muscles to move his head, grinding the flat of his hot tongue against your clothed heaven. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god”, you are out of breath, completely flabbergasted by what he makes you feel. The sensation of his skin is missing, but everything else is there. His heat, the slick wetness, his moans. And because he is soaking your panties, the parts he doesn’t lick are cold in the night air. You are in a constant state of different temperatures. Hot mouth and cold panties. Your pussy weeps to make sense of it. Quite frankly, you want to weep as well. 

“I can’t get enough. Mhm darling, you taste so good. So sweet. Darling, oh darling, my darling”, he babbles between his licks, humping the floor needily. 

He will make you climax. You didn’t think it possible that something like this could make you orgasm, but thinking back, you are foolish. Of course he could make you orgasm this way. It is Taehyung and Taehyung will always show you new ways of how sex can feel. It is never boring with him. 

Although tonight, you wish that he would be just a little bit boring. You are burning up and it’s so unfair that you are already close. 

“Stop please, you’re making me cum” you beg him, trying to grasp him through the fabric of your dress.

Taehyung growls playfully, breaking away from you even if you instantly whine for more.

“Adorable. You are simply adorable”, he coos and appears from your dress to smile at you. His lips are puffy, his hair ruffled from being buried under your dress. 

“Why are you like this?” you keen, wiping at your eyes so you wouldn’t cry.

“What do you mean?”

“I, I don’t know. Oh god, Tae.”

“Did you like how I licked you?” he is taunting you.

You spill tears, making grabby hands at him. He places himself over you instantly, holding your hands on each side of your head. 

“Yeah, liked it”, you sniffle, “Tae, I feel droopy.”

“You look droopy. And beautiful. So very beautiful”, he praises, kissing the tip of your nose, “don’t be scared. Allow it to happen. I am here.”

You sink into the droopy headspace further. You are completely his’ right now, so vulnerable that it would break your heart if he stopped it. But he doesn’t stop it. Because as much as you are floating in a safe subspace, Taehyung is floating in a warm Domspace. He loves every second with you, feeling high with you. 

“I love you”, he tells you.

“I love you too”, you tell him.

“So beautiful”, he says and disappears between your legs again. He lifts your hips with one hand, using the other to take off your panties. He gives them a deep sniff and a kiss, “so sweet”, then places them aside. He uses the position to push the dress over your butt, letting it punch around your waist. Only then does he lower your hips again, lifting your legs next to prop them up. You are spread like this, exposed to his eyes and the cold air. 

It is sinful how he is still entirely dressed while you are already showing him your parts most private. It is as if he is inspecting you. You can’t breathe properly at this aspect. This is so arousing to you.

“I know that I am repeating myself, but you are so beautiful, my darling. Look at you. Look at the shape of you, the beautiful colours of you, how wet you are. Oh, I want to treat your petals like they deserve to be treated.”

You clench around nothing. Taehyung delights at the view.

“How adorable. May I touch?” 

“Yes, please”, you beg him, spreading your legs further.

Taehyung places his left hand on your lower tummy, using his fingers to spread your pussy. He traces the shapes of you with his right hand, using only his fingertips. 

You are mewling instantly. You are aware that you sound needy and desperate, but you can’t help yourself. He makes you sensitive and each touch he places feels like the one able to break you. 

“How soft you are. How warm. How wet”, he rasps, gazing at you, “does this feel good, my darling?” 

He pulls you apart just a little more and rubs your newly exposed clit in circular motions. He makes sure to put special emphasis whenever his fingers rub up and down. 

“Yes ah, aaah Tae…”

“How beautiful, oh so beautiful.”

You are so wet that his clit massage is easy. And he makes you feel so good that you keep leaking more and more slick. His initial plan was to massage your other parts as well, but you are moaning so sweetly with his finger on your clit that Taehyung doesn’t have the heart to move away. He massages you eagerly, keeping track of your orgasm by looking at your glistening entrance.

Whenever you get close, you clench it involuntarily. He learned this about you from paying attention to whenever you played. 

“Keep breathing for me, there we go. Such a good girl”, he talks to you each time you get a little restless. And it works at first. It works perfectly, but soon all the breathing in the world couldn’t bring you down again. You clench. Taehyung’s only option is to pull away. 

“No please don’t edge me anymore. Please”, you wail, shaking in desperation. He has been playing with you for too long. He kept telling you to breathe, slowed down whenever you felt it coming closer. It’s been too long. You just want to cum.

“Breathe darling. I know it hurts, so I need you to breathe.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You asked me to relax you and so I did.”

“What?” 

You meet his eyes, having to gulp. Crazed playfulness is burning in them. It is as if he is fucking you raw with just his gaze.

“My darling, your pretty cunt has never looked more ready to take me. Look at how wet you are, how swollen your petals are, how empty your hole looks. You are so perfectly prepared. I merely did what you asked of me.”

Taehyung is normally such a gentleman that you sometimes forget that behind this mannered mask a huge, nasty pervert is hiding. You are reminded again and it’s messing you up.

He is right. You are empty and swollen and wet and you need him to fill you. Now. Instantly. Right this second.

“Please fuck me, please.” You sit up and begin tugging at his clothes. “Please fuck me, please Tae. Take it off, please.”

“Calm down darling, calm down”, he chuckles, guiding your hands away, “I would hate to have to tie up your grabby hands. Let me and be patient, yes?” 

“I want to be fucked.”

“I know darling, but the more you hinder me, the longer you have to wait. Are you going to be my good girl now, mhm?”

“Yes Sir”, you get out obediently because he managed to put you back in your place with just his words.

“There we go. That’s my good girl. You know, the better you behave, the harder I will fuck you. Only good behaviour will get you rewarded”, he talks as he undresses, riling you up even more. He takes off his pants first.

You ogle his cock. It is thrashing around, leaking droplets of his excitement. You want to suck him off, but you hold back. You need to be his good girl.

Taehyung doesn’t pay mind to his cock, unlacing his shirt so he could pull it off. He talks as he does it.

“Although don’t misunderstand, shall you misbehave, I shall fuck you just as hard. I will simply stop listening to your pleas for a break.” He pulls his shirt over his head. “But I am certain that you want to be my good girl tonight. Am I wrong in my-”

He forgets to talk. To breathe. To even properly function. You are naked, presenting yourself to him on all fours. You are arching your back, showing your glistening pussy and hole to him.

“What the fuck?” is all he gets out as his shirt slides from his weakened fingers.

You have him cursing. Your position has the desired effect on him. You mewl in realisation, sticking your ass out more. 

“What, what”, he stutters, gasping for air, “what…dar-darling, what are you do-doing?” 

“Please fuck me.” 

“Holy fuck”, he runs his hand through his own hair in distress, “darling, I should be so angry at you. Oh you drive me insane, you perfect goddess”, you gets out and attacks you with bites all over your buttocks.

You giggle, fleeing him with minimal effort.

“I’m going to eat you. You are too perfect.” He babbles between his eager bites. "Perfect. So fucking perfect”, he growls and sticks his tongue into your hole just long enough that you start gasping. He couldn’t help himself. When you present yourself so deliciously, Taehyung just needs to steal a taste. 

He doesn’t linger for long because ever since you presented yourself like this, his cock started aching unbearably and he really needs to be inside you. 

He still manages to get you breathless and twisting the blanket when he pulls back. He closes in, slapping his heavy cock against your pussy. Gently. Right against your clit to make you flinch with each spank. 

“One day I shall fuck your beautiful ass full of my seed”, he lulls his words, twitching each time his cockhead slaps against your clit. It feels just as good for him as it does for you.

“Taehyung, ah Taehyung”, you moan as your head begins to turn. You didn’t even know how much you needed your clit spanked until he gave it to you. And to make matters even worse, Taehyung gives you breaks by rubbing his cock through your puffy folds. He does so until you gasp, exchanging the grinds with new spanks. He will definitely make you climax if he keeps this going.

“I’ll play with you all day, make you wear different toys and take you out on a date. I’d make you carry a bag with all the toys I’d work up your tolerance with. Just imagine. I’d take you to the bathroom and make you bend over so I can exchange the damned toy in your ass.” He growls the last sentence, spanking your clit especially hard.

You flinch forward, twisting the blanket. You can only mewl because all your concentration is on not cumming accidentally. He grinds against you after the spank, staring at your ass with darkened eyes.

“Just imagine once we reached the last toy of the evening. How big it would be, how stretched out you’d be. You would feel it with each step, would feel it when I sit you down in my car to drive you home. By the time, I have you in my wing, you’d be fucking begging for my cock. Fuck darling”, he grits his teeth, huffing out air. “Look at what you are doing to me. You have me cursing and spitting such disgusting things.” 

He spanks your clit again. Doing so over and over and over…he makes you cum. It’s going to happen. You can’t hold back anymore and so you ready yourself. A mistake, because Taehyung picks up on it instantly and pulls away. 

The wail of agony you let out almost makes him feel bad. Almost. He leans down and kisses your spine, rubbing your sides gently.

“Breathe darling. Be my good girl and breathe”, he speaks sweetly again. The once feral Taehyung from before is tamed. “I am sorry for losing my composure. That must have been scary for you.”

You sob. He is actually making fun of you. Holy fuck. This is just a game to him.

“Please”, you beg weakly.

“Please what? I told you darling, I can only give you what you want when you are using your words. Please don’t disobey me, my darling.”

You shudder. He is so good with his words.

“Fuck me. I can’t do this anymore. I need your cock. Please.”

“There we go. See? It wasn’t that hard to use your words”, he speaks sickeningly sweet and presses his tip against your puffy entrance. He applies no pressure and he is already slipping inside, whimpering in surprise because your pussy is practically sucking him in. 

“Thank you”, you mewl, pressing back into him until he sits inside you entirely. It isn’t often that he fits inside completely, making you sob his name because it feels so good to you. 

“Do, do I hurt?” he stutters, fighting with his air. He wants to move, but holds back for your sake. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew that he was causing you discomfort.

“No, it feels so good, please move.”

“I am keeping my, my cock human. To make it seem as…as if we…are…” he barely gets his words out as he rolls his hips into you. He grasps your hips, guiding them so it would feel the best for both of you. “Heavens, it is difficult to talk.”

“You don’t have to”, you squeak out.

“I don’t, good”, he says and moans, rolling his head back sensually, “just tell me that you feel good.”

“I do. I feel so good.”

“Darling…You feel good too, so good…” 

The sex becomes more intense now that you got rid of the pressure of talking. When you and Taehyung are like this, it is impossible to talk and knowing that it is okay to only moan makes this feel like an acid trip. He fucks into you deep and hard, moaning and growling while you answer him in high pitched squeaks and ecstatic sobs. 

The wooden planks feel hard under your knees and against the cheek you are squishing down on them. The blanket makes it comfortable.

“Are your knees alright? Is it not too hard?” Taehyung still checks up on you because he is starting to feel the hardness of the boards as well.

“Good. Is good. Tae, I love this”, you mewl, throbbing around him.

“I love it too. Such a good girl. You are taking me so well”, he praises and looks at where you are connecting. He pulls out completely, spanks your hole just once then pushes back inside, growling deeply at the sinful view. He has you even puffier than before, his cock is so thick inside you that it squeezes out your juices. Taehyung buries himself into you until his crotch sits against your pussy and you can soak his pubes with your sweet nectar. 

“You are getting me so messy”, he lulls and grabs your buttocks to spread you on him. The view is so arousing to him. You on his cock while your soft body jiggles each time he slams his hips into you.

Something happened to Taehyung. You have no idea what, but the way he fucks you suddenly feels way too good. You can barely breathe or stay on your knees. Constant waves of hot electricity shoot through your entire body and the warmth between your legs makes you weep.

What you aren’t aware of is that Taehyung found his composure again. He may have been lost in the sensation at first, but he found his control again. And now he is going to bring you to ruin. The view of him fucking your pretty cunt motivates him. The constant squelching of your juices and the sensarion of them on his dick makes him want to fuck you better just to increase them. The ecstatic sounds you can’t control from coming out, urge him to keep them going. 

Taehyung is back and he is going to make sure that you lose yourself completely. He slides his right hand to your front and pinches your clit between his fingers so he can roll it quickly.

You scream, collapsing on the ground. Taehyung lets you, but pulls up your hips so he can still reach your clit. The position tightens you and he has to growls from the deepest parts of his stomach to bear the heaven you make him feel. 

“Taehyung, Taehyung please. Taehyung too much. Taehyung”, you sound panicked, kicking the floorboards as best as your pinned down legs allow you to. 

“Don’t be scared. I’m here. Let go my darling, let go”, he encourages you, rolling your clit between his fingers. 

“You’ll keep going afterwards”, you wail.

“Of course I will.”

The aspect of being overstimulated is scaring you, but you can’t hold back anymore. It’s been too many times he denied you. You have to cum.

You break with a scream of his name. 

“Yes! Good girl”, he exclaims, fucking you gently as you shake and writhe. He knows exactly when to speed up again. He doesn’t miss the window for even a millisecond, drilling into you at the perfect time to completely ruin you. 

You wail his name, clawing at the boards as he makes you see stars. You genuinely only exist for pleasure right now. He fucks you so good and with such precision that you would dissolve if he stopped right now. You were scared of the overstimulation but now you need it as if it was your air. 

Taehyung holds you down with both hands. He knows your clit is swollen enough that his rough thrusts are enough to stimulate it as well. You are sucking him off with how tightly you are squeezing him. It messes him up to the point where he can’t pretend to be proper anymore.

“You are such a perfect slut. Keep fucking screaming like that. Oh, I’m going to fill you up until you can’t hold it in anymore. Hear me? I’m going to make you my pretty cumslut.”

“I can’t hold it anymore, please take it out of me”, you wail, meaning something entirely different. He is going to make you squirt, but you can’t let go because of the squeezed position. 

“My cock?” 

“No, no the, the liquid.”

“Liquid?”

You can’t be blamed. Your brain is dead. Liquid is all you could think of.

“Please”, you cough out a sob, “please make it stop. I can’t take it out.”

“Oh! Darling, just tell me”, he finally understands and pulls you back onto your knees, pressing down on your clit to finally set you off. 

You squeak as it happens, shaking against your will as you spray it everywhere.

“There we go, fucking wet yourself. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner. I bet you must have felt so full. That’s my good girl, let it all out.” 

His rough fucking makes it so that it goes everywhere and it feels so good. Such relief you haven’t felt in a long time. He is right. You felt so full and it’s finally leaving you. 

“Urgh, I can’t hold back like this. This is really turning me on, darling”, Taehyung gets out between his gritted teeth.

“I want your cum please”, you allow him.

“Thank you, darling thank you”, he moans and throws his head back, emptying his plumb balls deep inside you. The strength with which it shoots out of him and the masses he produces, are indicators that he was truly human no more. For just a second you feared for the strength of your cervix as he shot his sticky cum against it with such force that you could feel it. If you didn’t feel fucked already, the way he stuffs you does the rest. 

He pulls out after his high, moaning with you when big dollops of his seed leak out of you. With how well he fucked your pussy, it is unavoidable that your lose hole can’t hold it in. 

“Sorry”, you still apologise, trying to clench.

“Don’t. Relax. I’ll clean you up later”, he assures you and drops down beside you, pulling you with him so you are resting on his chest.

“It’s going everywhere.”

“I told you that it is alright. I have an eager tongue. I can clean whatever mess you make.”

“Oh god, Tae”, you finally melt into him, letting yourself relax even if that means his cum is seeping out of you in a constant trickle.

“Doesn’t that feel better? To relax and to let it happen?” he asks, caressing the back of your head.

“Yes, better. Good”, you sigh, melting into a puddle of giddiness. You feel so safe with him.

“That’s what I like to hear. Relax, my darling”, he whispers and kisses the crown of your head. “How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Good”, you whisper and shiver, “oh god, I feel so giddy, this was so good.”

“It was incredible”, he rolls to his side so you were nuzzled into him, “I am so proud of you. You took me like such a good girl. I loved every second with you.”

You gaze up at him, spilling new tears when he wipes your old ones with such tenderness and care.

“I feel so safe with you”, you squeak out.

“You are safe with me. I promise you”, he says honestly and kisses your forehead, “my darling girl. Oh, how I want to treat you right.”

“You do. You treat me so right.”

He smiles, kisses your forehead again.

“That is good to hear.”

“I’m so happy that we went on this trip. I feel so much safer with you.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. Yes, like, like I felt when we first started out. I was so scared back then, so confused and helpless, but you were my safe space. I feel like this again when I’m with you.”

“Oh.” Taehyung lowers his head. Tears escape him.

“Why are you crying?” you gasp, wiping them instantly.

“Because I wished for you to trust me like this again for ages. What you and I had back then was magical to me. I feel so happy knowing that we have it back.” 

“Oh Tae, you are so sweet.”

“Thank you for saying this. Oh sweetest”, he kisses your forehead, “I am grateful for this trip as well. I feel so much closer to you as well as Kook and Yoongi.”

“Me too”, you say and giggle.

He giggles with you.

“But now, you must tell me how it was. How did you like your first time in a hayloft?” he asks afterwards.

You wiggle in his arms happily.

“I actually kinda forgot that we are in a hayloft.”

“You did? How sad”, Taehyung pouts before he reaches over you to get something. Moments later you have a few pieces of hay in your hair and one of it poking your forehead as he tickles your face with it.

“Tae, what is that?” you cackle, escaping him with zero effort. Quite frankly, you are snuggling into him.

“The proper hayloft experience. You have something in your hair, darling. Let me get it for you.”

“Yes, because you put it there”, you laugh, squeaking in laughter soon after when Taehyung rolls you into the hay and begins kissing your neck.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

CRIMSON EYES 🩸

Characters: ot7 x reader

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

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

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

🩸My Master List🩸

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 • 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 >

Chapter One🩸

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

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

Every breath I took.

Closer.

Every step away.

Closer.

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

I needed to get up.

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

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

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

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

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

The day had just started and I felt restless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we? who said I was going?” I teased.

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

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

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

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

“really how?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He deserves more. More then I could ever be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah” i replied his smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re right, thanks Jimin.”

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

“want some?” I offer to Hoseok.

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

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

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

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

“a little…” he smiled, taking it off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that couldn’t be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not him.

I kept repeating that in my head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hoseok what in the world happened last night?”

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

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

“he took you home” he blurted

“he did? But…”

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

“but I saw…”

“what?”

Was it all in my head then?

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

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

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

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

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

He gave me an apologetic smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the pills stopped working a long time ago.

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

I wasnt tired.

I wasnt running.

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

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

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

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

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

“don’t worry, this wont hurt…”

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

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

I took it not looking who’s the caller.

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled and i cold almost picture his teasingly smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i will right now…” i groaned.

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

“yeah… text me the time” i tell him.

“will do boss, bye.”

“bye, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would he do such thing to Jungkook?

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry….”

I mumbled turning around before harshly being pulled back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m so sorry for this” he said.

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

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

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

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

“what happened here?!”

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

“Jungkook?” I called breathless.

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

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

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

Leaning away I searched for his eyes.

“what is happening kook?” I asked.

He sighted looking at the two men behind me.

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

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

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

They were all the same.

“you’re hurt…” he said.

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

The same as I saw in all my nightmares.

“Jungkook…. What are you?”

…..

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

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Vampire's Kiss | Chapter Five

Pairing | Vampire!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 7,5k

Warnings | +18, smut, oral sex, kiss on kiss (!!!❤️), Jungkook is a super sexy vampire and his eyes change color, breast worship, body worship, pussy worship, our vampire boy is a real gentleman, sweetness and adoration, it's Jungkook's first time with a human woman so he's surprised by certain reactions of MC's body, big dick, foreplay, mild biting, Jungkook keeps his instincts at bay (poor boy. ..), vaginal sex, care after sex, at the end of the chapter some anxiety …

⤷ Summary | Humans have finally unveiled and accepted the centuries-old existence of vampires, in a modern world people share their lives with these peculiar and mysterious creatures, but it is not all roses.

Will two souls belonging to such different species be able to be together?

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! ❤️ I am back with the fifth chapter of VK and I warn you, it will be mostly smut! A reader asked me to continue the story and having chapters ready I took the opportunity to publish this one! I know you are waiting for the story about Yoongi that I promised in March, unfortunately my life is full of work and it's like my happiness has been sucked away by a dementor 💀. But even though I am progressing slowly, the story is almost towards the end so I hope to publish it soon! In the meantime I leave you with this chapter and thank you as always for your support, I love you ❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie - @peterstarkchrishiddleston - @reallygenerouskoala - @btsuga-d - @angelicsmilesworld - @jimincrystal - @velvet-stardust2002 - @ke1k029 - @pantara - @lennieharper - @takemeaway5402 - @jkslaugh97 - @jaisilver

Chapter List - Previous - Next

Entering the elevator like two rowdies, Jungkook's lips take possession of yours as if they have always belonged to him, one of his hands goes up to hold you still and with his tongue voluptuously traces each flap of soft skin, he seems intent on not wanting to let you go and you taste the firm flavor of wine with pleasure from his own soft, rosy tongue. Your eyes flutter when, he not content, he sneaks under your dress with his other hand, brushing against one of your thighs with ardent curiosity, squeezing the flesh as if that was always the place of his hand.

He pulls away from you slightly to whisper, “That's the way you want me, isn't it?” he emphasizes those words by pushing your pelvis against his, you moan against his lips and a flush of arousal gets the better of you, apart from your panties there is nothing else to protect you from his presence, “I wanted to be good to you, I wanted to be a real knight,” he murmurs an expletive, squinting his eyes dark with lust as he inhales the air.

“But I want a vampire” you sigh against his lips.

His irises glow red, you wordlessly admire that peculiar coloring, but he holds you in a needy, strong embrace, as if to keep you from seeing them, his shoulders tremble slightly at your admission, “Your scent is everywhere, baby” he murmurs in your ear in a persuasive voice, "Think of how many humans will come in here and without realizing it will breathe you in" your heart loses a beat at the idea, your intimacy throbs without you being able to hold back the tremor, it is exciting to think of such a thing.

Jungkook goes back to nibbling your lower lip, licking it occasionally, you chase it with all your might, unable to stop.

“But don't worry, my darling... only I know how delicious your scent is” with a gentle ‘ding’ the elevator doors open, inviting you to get out as soon as possible, Jungkook guides you out without ever taking his eyes or hands off you, you read the desire in his every action and it surely reflects your own as well.

In front of your door you frantically search for the keys to open it, and once you do the boy is not slow to enter, almost tumbling in because of your haste, you have no time to laugh, he slams the door violently, making you jerk in surprise.

He voraciously swallows your exclamation into his mouth, enjoying the warmth that he lacks, and you reciprocate with transport, wanting him to feel pleasure in more ways than one, and if that means making him feel your human warmth, then that's okay too.

You tighten your arms around his neck, wanting to breathe him in and make him yours, you will declare yourself satisfied only when you have succeeded in imprinting him in you forever.

His fingers trace the contours of your waist, climbing higher and higher, until he reaches the edge of your breasts, eagerly squeezing your body, not allowing himself to really touch it.

You pull away breathlessly, “What are you doing?”

“I need your permission,” he whispers, making you smile.

“Do vampires need permission to touch a woman, kind of like the little story that you can't cross the threshold of a house without the master's invitation?”

He shakes his head gently, his dark eyes again shining with an amused sparkle that you watch spellbound.

“No, I just want to make sure you really want this.”

Butterflies flutter to your beating heart, you caress a snow-white cheek softly, “I want everything you can give me, Jungkook and I definitely want this” you deliberately emphasize the last word, honestly you have dreamed of such a moment too many times, you want to enjoy it in reality too.

As if to show him you mean it, you accompany him to your room. You turn on the lights and he finally see where you spend your nights thinking about him, he surrounds your hips with a bright face, lowering himself to give you a kiss on the forehead.

“You have no idea how happy you're making me, if we don't go further tonight I'll still feel satisfied, you know? Even just your presence means a lot to me.”

You think his reassurances are awfully nice, you press a hand to his chest, at the level of a heart that is no longer pumping life, you want to be the one to restart it, and you wave him over to the bed covered with soft sheets, he sits on the edge next to you, sighing in pleasure tilting his head back as you plant a soft kiss on his skin, right where a lovely little mole shows off, you continue further and further toward his well-defined jawline, his skin as smooth and velvety as the petals of a rose, you lightly clench your teeth on his flesh in a small provocative gesture, but you can go no further, he puts an end to your seduction plan before it can even be implemented and like a hawk he swoops down to capture your lips again, plundering your mouth without hesitation and with his hands on your shoulders he forces you to surrender to his strength, bringing your back to match the mattress beneath you.

Without any more embarrassment or indecision his strong hands cup your breasts, probing their shapes carefully, and you have to move away from his ravenous mouth to catch your breath. He smoothly continues his attentions and tickles your nipples with curiosity, pinching them playfully from above the light fabric of your dress; instinctively you spread your legs and arch your back, unknowingly giving him a chance to settle between them, heedless of the strong presence that goes hardening in his denim pants.

His dark eyes leave out no expression that takes shape on your face with each of his slow caresses, amused by the stiff tips pushing at the fabric, trying to get his attention.

“You're not even wearing a bra...” he blows in your ear, uncontrollable shivers traveling straight to your core, which clenches with pleasure, begging him to take any action.

“It-it's the dress, not... “ you stammer, the boy hums thoughtfully and your breath stops as he drops his head to your chest, from your view you can only see his hair, but you can clearly feel the slight bite he leaves at the stiff tip of one nipple, it's delicate, but you can sense how sharp his teeth are, and a jolt of pleasure stronger than the others makes you sigh in delight, with one leg you wrap around his side to keep him from pulling away, while a more lascivious moan escapes from your throat at the light sucking that follows the bite.

His large hands glide like snakes over your hot thighs, and move up your bare skin confidently, taking the rest of your dress with them past your hips, then higher and higher, and with a few quick gestures you are naked under his eager gaze, were it not for the panties - lace - that still conceal your intimacy with regard, except then you feel a damp stain on the fabric, you should feel embarrassment, but Jungkook looks at you as if you were a goddess and that helps you get over it.

He does not focus on your bare breasts as you expect, rather he takes his time to simply look at you, before giving you a sweet, lingering kiss on the cheek, even as he pulls away you feel tingling where he has just kissed you, your eyes becoming slightly moist. You feel there is something different with him, a level of intimacy you have never experienced with anyone else.

“You are so beautiful, you leave me breathless,” he murmurs fondly, before leaning over you.

Then it's just a slow, meandering descent into carnal sin, his tongue darting over one of your turgid little buttons with adoration, watching in amazement as it swells and turns scarlet under his insistent, curious tongue, as if he had never seen such a reaction to his own touches before he met you, and as he leaves a trail of wet kisses and bites with each of your moans, he unhesitatingly sucks every patch of skin his attention rests on, where he cannot reach with his mouth, he leaves it to his hands to take care of it, kneading the flesh of the other breast with appreciation, putting pressure on the other sensitive nipple each time you pull at his strands. After a deep moan he pushes his cock harder and harder against the sheets, the thought of what he is hiding under all those clothes does not leave your thoughts, you want to have him naked on top of you, inside you, and he does seem of the same opinion.

Jungkook pulls away from your breasts battered by his teeth and glistening with his saliva, his own lips are swollen and moist, his lip piercing glistens mischievously against the tip of his tongue, which leaves one last wet trail. The sight is so erotic that you try to kiss him once more, but with a devious smile he pulls away returning to your body, with little open-mouthed kisses that make you shiver with impatience. He is eating your body with painful slowness.

“Quietly, baby,” he whispers on your belly, you squeeze your eyes shut whimpering, the pain of unfulfilled pleasure between your legs is unbearable, "Be a good girl and you'll get your present," he chuckles cruelly, his hands returning to caress the inside of your thighs, reveling in their softness, each touch is always a greater trail of wet kisses that Jungkook deposits on the skin of your lower abdomen, never venturing down where you most demand his attention, never giving you the satisfaction you so much seek.

His hand travels up your soft skin like a cloud, going to graze the edge of your briefs, a choked moan escapes your lips at the idea that he might finally please you, he sneaks under the fabric and touches your hot pussy with sensual calm, shivers run through your entire body as an exclamation escapes him; “Oh, God...”

Your gaze flies to him, his face shows a surprised expression that immediately leaves him. With your heart in your throat you wonder why he said those words.

“What is it?” you ask with a dry mouth, he swallows softly.

“You're so wet, and hot.... I didn't expect that” any strange doubt is swept away with a laugh, which is promptly silenced by his thumb moving over your swollen clitoris carefully, he plays with it slowly, taking his time to study the way it contracts and makes you drip, you drop your head between the pillows breathing heavily, the sensation is divine and finally that pain in a small part shuts up, giving way to a pleasure that sends hot flashes to the tips of your hair. You feel so wet and soft that you would even be ready to welcome him into you right away.

His face moves lower and you arch your back slightly, reacting to the chaste kiss he leaves on your still-covered mound, you clench the sheets in your fists, your breathing getting heavier as the vampire lays more light kisses, but he suddenly stops with the circular thumb motions and you are tempted to scream in protest, before you notice his fingers latching onto the edge of your briefs to pull them off.

“I wonder... will you be as sweet as your perfume?” a sly smile makes room on his face as his eyes chain you in a silent plea.

“Jungkook, please... stop making me wait, I want you,” you beg him to get a move on, you can't stand all that procrastination anymore, and for a moment you have the idea of telling him to go to hell.

“I want you too, you don't know how much, my love” you widen your eyes at the way he just called you, just in time to see his tongue licking your glistening entrance, going all the way up to your clitoris, there his lips latch onto that pulsing, stiff pearl of arousal, his tongue rolls over it once more and, oh fuck.

“D-Don't stop!” you exclaim, your legs stiffening as his fingers sink into the flesh of your thighs to keep them wide open, as if to prove that he is the one getting much more joy out of what he is doing.

You are petrified with bliss, your hips moving toward his mouth in desperation and in response with the polished tip of that soft muscle he moistens your soggy opening, moving back and forth slowly between your sagging and trembling folds.

One of your hands reaches up and clasps his silky dark strands, begging him to stay there and feast on you, and not letting him say it twice he sprinkles your pussy with several sloppy, wet kisses, only to resume sucking the tender pink bud soon after, taking it gently between his teeth in agonizing torture, you murmur disconnected words that even you can't understand, you are burning all over and a long moan leaves your throat when his tongue collects the transparent essence gushing from your trembling slit, he closes his eyes continuing that wonderful smooth and wet movement, small spasms take control of your limbs and you look for a moment to recover away from him, but his index finger gently penetrates the slit he is playing with, making space between the walls that immediately tighten around him, tormented by pleasure. Your legs imprison him in a grip that would leave a normal human being breathless. He soon adds another finger, working his way in a little hard, but you love with all your soul that slight burning sensation from long abstinence.  You whimper asking for more, thrust your hips into his face, and he separates his lips from your folds, leaving behind a glossy trail that smears his chin.

“Ssssh. You're too tight, I might hurt you,” he admonishes you, but you shake your head.

“That's not true, you just want me to beg you to fuck me!” you growl and something in his eyes changes, they get darker and he pushes his finger more roughly inside you. You hold your breath at the change in speed, his fingers reaching places that would have been impossible for you to find, it's getting more and more complicated trying not to go crazy.

“I just want to make you beg me to fuck you, is that it? No, honey... Here the one begging to fuck you is me, but as a gentleman I'm preparing my lady properly, can't you see my efforts?” he growls, before giving quick, short licks to your scarlet clit, which vibrates desperately under his care.

“J-Jungkook... Wait, I don't want to come like this,” you whimper again, inhaling when he adds a third finger, your pussy swallowing the new intrusion with delight, moving rhythmically with him, your belly sending waves of pleasurable heat to the rest of your body.

The boy pulls away slightly, without stopping moving his fingers, churning between the walls as your clitoris throbs unceasingly in search of more attention. He himself looks a mess, the blackness of his eyes completely absorbed by the dark red of his true nature, his lips are pregnant with your taste and he licks them carefully, cleaning up every trace of you. He is beautiful. He is not hiding and this makes you smile slightly.

“You're so warm and sweet, baby,” he moans, pressing his forehead against your thigh, you're wet with sweat and you notice that his hair is curling because it's damp in turn. Fuck, it's terribly sexy and you spontaneously clench around his fingers still inside you, “I'd stay here eating you for hours and hours, your taste is more delicious than the blood I'm used to drinking” he confesses tightening his lips, forcing himself to let go of your heat, a part of you is sorry.“I'll do as you want this time” he brings his two glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking them as he looks at you greedily, those damn intense eyes of his communicate the desire he hides behind an innocent face.

He gets down on his knees on the bed, beginning to unbutton his shirt and you immediately go to help him, curious to see what he looks like under his clothes, he lets you do it with a small smile, which you kiss immediately, you can't get enough of his mouth.

As the buttons are opened, more and more alabaster skin is put on display, with well-defined, massive muscles that your fingers graze with desire, you caress each bundle of muscles and his wonderful narrow waist, admiring him as if you had a work of art in front of you.

You attach your lips to his neck without a second thought, licking him gently before sucking his soft skin, his hands settle on your hips, clasping you to his chest to give you more access to his neck, while your smaller ones reach for his belt, which you open quite quickly, barely registering the sound of metal falling somewhere on the floor, you again provocatively bite the space between his shoulder and neck, and this time he lets a faint gasp escape, kissing you under your ear and then further and further down to your throat, never opening his mouth too much. Yes, that's his weak spot. Something in your bite turns him on, something that perhaps ... also wants to push him to bite you.

He pulls away slightly to unzip his jeans, you are not ashamed to watch him free his cock from his pants, his boxers do nothing to hide the powerful shape he usually tries to keep at bay, there is a darker spot on the fabric, at the height of the tip, and you swallow.

“I've never seen a naked vampire, to be honest,” you say almost shyly, he smiles releasing his boxers, showing you his erection, and you widen your eyes at the sight.

None of your previous partners were this size, not to mention just magnificent, on the rosy tip shines clear liquid and the soft skin perfectly envelops that size which, you know, is hard as marble, you felt it as it was pressed against your thigh, he must have been in a lot of pain.

Jungkook takes his cock in his hand teasingly, giving himself some preparatory caresses with languidly half-closed eyes, his skin is so clear that you can see his blue veins, Jungkook as a vampire mixes such an elegant yet vigorous beauty that it makes your mouth water.

“You're the first human I've ever tasted like that, and believe me when I say I found you delicious...” you blush as you reach for his cock, gently tightening your grip on that velvety, stiff skin, you run your thumb over the tip, sprinkling that liquid all over his rod pulsing between your fingers, you feel like taking him in your mouth and tasting him, knowing what gives him pleasure and at what speed he'd prefer to fuck your throat, Jungkook gently stops you, ”Not now, sweetheart... later you can have as much fun as you want, right now I just need to get inside you,” he whispers in your ear, pinning your hand against his cock and pushing you back onto the bed, you quiver under his hands like a cat in heat, and maybe that's just what you are.

He nibbles gently at the column of your neck and tilts your head to give him a better angle, you enjoy the gentleness used to keep from tearing your skin apart and open your legs inviting him to do what he wants with you, he takes a moment to go back to teasing with his fingers the bundle of nerves that makes you whimper lustfully, the fingers are soon replaced by his cock.

He presses on your folds pushing back and forth, wincing with a moan with each caress. He embraces you in need and with an emotional warmth you've never experienced before. You push your fingers over his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin as he catches your entrance without really going in, he slowly kisses the lips of your delicate slit with his cock before penetrating inside you in one sinuous lunge, you immediately feel yourself split in two and moan open-mouthed, his hips end up pressing against yours and you feel wonderfully complete with him inside you.

He remains still between the yielding flesh that welcomes him, you see him close his eyes, inhaling slowly.

“Fuck...” he blows through his teeth, a few drops of sweat beading on his forehead, and you dislodge a few wisps of his hair that have clung to his forehead, "You're amazing, how have I lived so far without you?" he trembles as you clench around him at those words, and not content he goes deeper.

You move your pelvis against his and he slowly starts moving again, stepping out slightly and then stepping back in gently, feeling his full weight against your body is an all-encompassing sensation that you will never tire of. He drags his lips down your chest, reattaching himself to one of your nipples shamelessly, sucking and pulling on it with his dangerously sharp teeth. Increasing the power of his mighty lunges, your soft walls twitch with delight as his length comes to stimulate a specific spot inside you, fuck, he's so big you can feel him reach all the way to your stomach, you arch your back unable to do anything else but stand there and take it. You almost cry when the pearl hidden between the folds throbs unbearably, begging for attention that Jungkook seems unwilling to give you for the moment.

You drive your nails into his shoulders, a scream manages to escape your mouth at the umpteenth time he enters you more forcefully.

You cast a glance down between you, his lower abdomen seems moist with something, the inside of your trembling thighs is too, and then you understand, that is your out-of-control arousal, a sigh from him catches your attention.

“Do you see how beautiful you look as you take me like a good girl?” he growls an inch from your lips, making you gasp before he kisses you hard. You willingly take his tongue into your mouth, sensing the aftertaste of your flavor lingering in him, a shuddering, uncontrolled breath makes room in you, his pelvis collides faster with yours, his lips fall back on your sweat-soaked neck, and there you notice something very different.

Something long and sharp is dragged across your skin, which ripples shivering under his care, you intuit that it is the tip of his fangs, he continues to drag them gently with each forbidden thrust of his hips. The knowledge that you could receive a bite at any moment makes you stiffen, making the stretch of your cunt that much tighter, your heart pumps blood fast, arousing you like never before, and Jungkook's eyes widen, invested by all those sensations assaulting you, “Holy-!” he exclaims, before increasing the pace of his uncontrolled lunges, dragging you with him into a vortex of insatiable enjoyment.

You meet the thrusts with your pelvis asking for more, your walls flicker around his cock, willingly welcoming each of his overpowering lunges, with your hands he grasps your thighs tightening them around him, he tilts your pelvis toward his planting wet kisses and light bites in the hollow of your neck, imagine what you might feel on receiving a bite from him, perhaps a mix of excruciating pain and mind-numbing pleasure, your pelvis twitches repeatedly, an intoxicating sensation warms your belly and you tremble violently, Jungkook holds you close to him as his fingers return to torture your swollen clit.

“Oh! Shit,” you sob in shock.

He slows down his thrusts and continues to stimulate you in quick circles that you try to escape, "Ssh, ssh...come, baby.... I know you can do it, you're my obedient human, right?" your breath catches in your throat, pleasure expanding from your tight walls to your stiffening clitoris before a long series of pleasurable jolts work their way throughout your body, concentrating in one powerful orgasm that leaves you breathless.

Jungkook resumes with hard and fast thrusts, continuing to murmur how wonderful and perfect you were for him, taking advantage of your orgasm to trigger his. In the throes of overstimulation you feel his hot semen deliciously invade your pussy, reaching your belly and you gasp at his final lunges, just at that moment his teeth bite lightly into your flesh, without piercing your skin as you would have expected, you feel the stiffness of his shoulders under your hands, before he begins to lick the spot he has chosen, just at this instant he is showing you exceptional self-control.

Jungkook remains inside you a little longer, his head pressed against your breasts, letting your heartbeats lull him as you run your fingers through his wet strands. Even after he comes, his size barely changed, he fills your intimacy smoothly.

“How was I, for a human?” you giggle with a dry throat, he smiles against your skin.

“I don't think I can describe it in simple words,” he brings one of your hands to his lips, affectionately kissing your knuckles , “The only thing I know is that I would repeat everything from the beginning.”

You shake your head, your eyes are beginning to close, “Oh, please ... give me a moment to breathe,” he untangles himself from your legs and immediately you have to deal with several things.

The uncomfortable sensation of his sudden absence hits you hard, and at the same time your legs are screaming in pain, you close them with difficulty, and when you do, his semen is pushed slightly out of your intimacy. You gasp, your only concern now is taking a shower.

The fact that he cum inside you is not a problem, a human and a vampire cannot have children after all.

That thought leaves you a little bitter in the mouth, in truth, but you can't help it.

“I need a shower...will you join me?” you ask shyly to the figure lying on his stomach, your eyes immediately falling on his sculpted buttocks and trying hard not to open your eyes wide, indignant you wonder how you dared not touch that heavenly work, designed by the angels themselves.

With a smile he nods and gets up smoothly, “Lead the way.”

You go to the bathroom together, where waiting for you is a shower large enough to accommodate you and his immense size, he does nothing sexual as he helps you rub your skin gently, you lean wearily against his chest, selfishly letting him do all the work, his hands quiet as he cleanses you from the fragrant lather of your favorite bubble bath.

“Now we'll dry off, hmm?” you nod absentmindedly at his words, barely registering the towel dabbing at your skin, you're tremendously tired, you just want to sleep, to witness this a yawn escapes your control. He laughs lightly, guiding you to the bed completely naked, not that there's a problem, it wouldn't be the first time you've slept with only sheets to cover you.

You notice in the half-light his figure looking for something and frown, “What are you doing?” you murmur, he stops his movements.

“I'm going home- I wouldn't want to disturb you,” he replies unsurely, you narrow your eyes, aware that he can see you in the dark.

"Disturb me after all I've let you do? Don't be an idiot and go back to bed, Jeon," you mutter, he accordingly gives up the search for his clothes and joins you with a smile.

He wraps his arms around your sides and drops his head against your shoulder, sighing quietly.

“Does that mean I passed the test?” he asks with amusement, you smile slightly with your eyes closed.

“With flying colors... it would mean you won't get rid of me so easily” you squeeze one of his hands between yours, pressing it against your chest.

“I'm glad to know that” he kisses your lips lightly, before settling in better, his chest against your back giving you a kind of security that helps balance your heartbeat.

That night you fall into a dreamless sleep, totally relaxed and exhausted.

You open your eyes slowly, looking confusedly at the window of your room, it is open and only the curtains protect your privacy, you wonder if you had forgotten it open last night, then a gentle ache between your legs reminds you of what happened on that bed and a squeal of embarrassment escapes your lips, you press the pillow to your face with a huge smile plastered on your face.

As you inhale you realize that his scent permeates every corner of your sheets, and you enjoy that fresh, masculine fragrance that still makes you feel wrapped in his arms. You would gladly stay in bed all day, if it weren't for your work, which certainly doesn't like to make life easy for you; Jungkook probably had the same thought, given his absence-maybe he ran home to get ready.

You kind of regret not waking up with him, but at least a note or message has to be there, right?

You struggle to lift yourself up, God--how are you going to walk in such conditions? You've been shot down like a beast in the middle of hunting season.

You look around, at the bedside table, at the bed itself--nothing, no romantic note as often happens in the movies. You check your phone and there too, no message.

You slowly get out of bed with tight lips, noticing only now that you are no longer naked, you are wearing one of your nightgowns that you surely didn't put on of your own accord, but why get dressed you rather than leave a message?

Maybe it's a vampire thing...

“I'm starving,” you mutter, not at all in the mood to start cooking anything, it's 7:00 a.m. and your shift will start at 8:15, you shake your head; milk and cereal sound better.

You put on your bunny-eared slippers and walk into the kitchen with the mood under your feet, still mulling over the fact that Jungkook might as well have written you something-.

“What the...” frozen, you stare wordlessly at the boy with his back turned who is preparing something in the pan that smells delicious, “Jungkook?” is more of a question than an exclamation, the boy gives no sign of being surprised to find you standing there. Of course, his senses must have picked up on your movements in the bedroom.

He turns slightly with a gentle smile, "Good morning, baby.... did you sleep well?" you don't miss the mischievous spark behind his words, you cough embarrassed.

That's why he didn't leave anything behind, he's still here.

“But what are you doing here, don't you have work today?” you ask, puzzled.

He's wearing the same clothes as the night before, but they're clearly more rumpled from the evening on the floor they spent, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“I called Yoongi, said I was feeling unwell and that he could take Namjoon my place for the morning shift, as for what I'm doing here- I'm taking care of my human, of course. Bacon and egg sandwiches is good, right?” he shows the contents of the pan and nods at the appetizing appearance, can he cook now too?

He looks pretty confident as he picks up cutlery and ingredients in your kitchen, a suspicion tingles in your mind, “Jungkook... but did you sleep last night?”

He shakes his head cheerfully, “Actually no, we vampires don't sleep at night,” you open your mouth slightly, then close it again.

Gosh, what did he do then all night?

Then how do vampires even work during the day?

“Take it easy, I enjoyed hearing you talk while you slept,” he says, taking two plates and two glasses, you widen your eyes.

“What?”.

His smile turns slightly wicked.

“You clung to me, but you kept repeating that you were cold” he chuckles and you would like to dig your own grave, ‘It's normal, we vampires have a different body temperature than yours, so I helped you a little’ he says pointing to what you are wearing, "Then I thought that after all the activity we did, you would be hungry so I studied the situation in the kitchen, memorizing the places where you keep the items, by the way, you should do the grocery shopping" he scolds you before putting the steaming plate in front of you.

That's one of the things your mom always scolds you too, you never feel like cooking and prefer to eat instant stuff from the supermarket, heck... you didn't expect such a lecture even from a vampire.

You take to eating in silence under his watchful gaze, the sandwich is seasoned to perfection and you don't mind continuing, evidently satisfied he takes to eating too, you remain spellbound for a few moments, can a person appear sexy just by the way he bites into a sandwich? You watch those lips close around his bite and the memory of what he did between your legs the night before pops into your mind. You clear your throat, searching for a way to calm your body's reactions.

“No need to hide, Y/N ... I really enjoyed it too, and if I think back on it I can think of many other ways to have fun” you choke on your eggs and immediately run to take a sip of water.

“You can't think of such things when we're eating!” you blurt out with teary eyes, in response he snuggles into his own shoulders with a tender smile.

“But even yesterday I was eating, yet you didn't complain.”

Oh, gosh. What happened to the boy who at first didn't even dare mention certain practices for fear of making you uncomfortable?

“You really are impossible...” you say wearily, your entire body seems to have been torn apart, and to your surprise he intertwines your fingers, leaving a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, your heart missing a beat.

“Just kidding, you know,” a faux-resentful snort escapes you, before you hear your cell phone ring.

Reluctantly you let go of his hand, “It must be for work, I'll be done in a moment.”

You go to the bedroom, casting a glance at the messy sheets, swallowing before grabbing the infernal thing, reading the name you turn to stone.

Sweet Jimin.

You pluck up courage and answer, keeping your voice low, you don't know to what extent vampire hearing works, certain is that you want to prevent Jungkook from learning certain details.

<<Jimin...>> you mumble his name like it's a curse, and in a way it is.

<<Y/N... please don't do that, I already feel like shit for what happened at the party>>.

You hiss his name one more time, <<Not now, I can't talk>>.

<<What? Why?>> he looks confused, taken aback, and you hold back the snort that was about to escape you.

<<Let's just say I'm in company ... in very good company, and it's not exactly the time to talk about such things, you know ... I too can have someone who wants me all to himself>>.

<<I never said otherwise, don't make me out to be a heartless being, now... I told you a thousand times it was not my intention to interrupt->> you inhale between your teeth to shut him up, you look alarmed at the bedroom door, but nothing is moving.

<<All right! I'll talk to you later, okay? I really don't have time now>> you hiss before shutting the phone in his face.

You're really running out of time, you're in danger of being late for work, and you run to get ready in the bathroom as fast as you can, when you get back to the kitchen you find two probing eyes, two beautiful probing eyes, waiting for you.

You're not really mad at Jimin, at the end of the day he's not really at fault, but remembering the role you're going to have to play once again nausea comes back to grip your gut, you have Jungkook now. You don't want to mess it up.

“Um... It was Jimin,” you say uneasily, Jungkook holding his chin with his hand, studying you carefully.

“I know, but you don't need to tell me, you and he are friends, right?” you look at him nervously.

Of course, you are friends, so why do you feel so uncomfortable telling him about Jimin? He knows absolutely nothing and never will, you can rest assured.

“Yes, yes! We are friends, but he just has a lot of time on his hands,” Jungkook melts into a small smirk.

“Give him time to find a girlfriend and we'll see if he still has time to call you” you freeze on the spot, he doesn't know Jimin has a girlfriend?

“But did something happen at the party? He seemed anxious to talk to you,” he continues, and at least you can tell him that, after all it's about your relationship.

“He feels bad about what happened at the party, you know--his inappropriate interruption, he doesn't know we're dating.”

Jungkook nods, intertwining his fingers, “Don't you want to let him know for the time being?” that question slightly unsettles you, doesn't it! You simply haven't had a chance to talk to each other face to face anymore.

“No, no! That's not it at all, what the heck are you saying? I haven't had a chance to tell him, as you explained yourself, you're working like hell too... in truth I expected you to be the one to tell him.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Me? Why me?”

With a catlike smile you approach his figure, going to trace his features with your fingers, stopping at his well-delineated jaw, “Don't you males usually mark your territory?” you ask sarcastically.

He follows your caress with half-closed eyes, “Us males, huh?” he is quite amused, “I've already marked what I had to mark tonight, believe me, every vampire will know you're mine... especially Jimin” he grabs your hips, pushing you onto his muscular thighs and in response you bring your arms around his neck, placing your nose in the crook of his neck. You enjoy his scent, which is now mixed with yours as well; he must have showered using your products, and this makes you stupidly excited.

“That's not fair,” you mutter, ”How will the vampires know that you are mine? I don't have anything in particular I can leave on you.”

He flinches slightly so he can look at you, there is joy shining in his eyes, “Baby, I have your scent everywhere, maybe you won't smell it, but it won't go unnoticed by vampires,” you are still not completely convinced. You want to see with your own eyes something that binds him to you.

“You haven't convinced me, Jeon... I have to be sure.”

In response he cradles your lips in another sweet kiss, you sense a hint of moisture when he opens his, inviting you to taste him again, you don't let him tell you twice and sink your hand into his hair as he takes possession of your mouth again.

His hand travels down your side, feeling and squeezing the flesh hidden by your shirt, you tighten your thighs around his waist in an attempt to calm the pleasurable throbbing between your legs, but groan in annoyance when your phone starts ringing again.

You reluctantly pull away, notice his eyes no longer as black as a raven's feathers, but a shade that wanders to reddish brown; he must have gotten nervous, too.

“It's definitely work this time,” you mutter a few inches from his face, "I have to go.”

You make to get off, but his grip on your wrist stops you, you stare at him confused, his expression so serious that you feel strange.

“At dinner I made you a proposition and I threw it out for a laugh, but I was serious. Come work with me.”

The butterflies in your stomach multiply to such an extent that they catch your heart and make him take flight, you smile at the sight of his face so serious and determined, having to admit that his proposal is not bad at all. But there is always a but.

The two of you. You could stay together as well as you could break up. In the last case it would be rather awkward to work together. You don't feel like giving him a straight answer.

“With you, or for you?” you ask amusedly, his smile showing off his perfectly white, sharp canines, but it's wonderful for you to see that smile come to life so closely.

“Does it really matter?” he asks mischievously, "It would be exciting either way," his hands slide down your thighs, slightly lifting the light fabric covering them, scenes from the night just past come to life in your mind, but you shake your head away from his bewitching figure.

“I will think about it, Jeon... You'll have my answer soon.”

You arrive at the office in a subdued mood, not wanting to leave Jungkook alone, but work was calling. Before leaving home he promised he would tidy up a bit before leaving in turn, this makes you smile.

A vampire cleaning a human being's house? That would be a moment to frame.

You walk in sullenly, trying not to point out your rather odd walk, Jungkook went pretty hard the night before, but you're not complaining about sore legs and your most sensitive pussy, you're loving this, and the image of Jungkook fucking you in the copy room becomes more delirious.

As you expect, Valentine is there taking calls with an annoyed look. She doesn't even make eye contact with you, and for that you are grateful; perhaps she realized that she had been bugging the wrong person and would now stop pestering you with her idle chatter.

You sit down, ready to suffer your boss's anguish already early in the morning, open the notepad you always keep in your desk drawer to read that day's appointments, but something else catches your attention.

On the open page of the mass of papers used to take notes or scribble phone numbers is a small post-it note folded in on itself.

You cast a suspicious glance at Valentine, but she is not paying even a little attention to you.

You take a deep breath and open it, unsure of what might be written there. Maybe it's from the boss, but it's strange. If there was something he wanted he would have come and yelled it in your face, he's not the type to write post-its and hide them, then!

Bad choice.

You widen your eyes.

You study your surroundings, the knot in your stomach returning to weigh down your breath.

“Valentine?” you call in her direction, she gives you an annoyed look, but does not look away.

“What do you want now? I'm busy.” the instinct to growl at her is suppressed, but it remains there, below the surface.

You show her the post-it note with an icy stare.

“This is a joke on your part, isn't it? Are you trying to scare me?” she narrows her eyes in response.

“Oh, no! I had nothing to do with it this time, look elsewhere for the culprit,” she blurts, turning away.

With her out of the way, you already know who to suspect with more confidence.

Someone knocks on the door and you gasp at the sound, Valentine breaks into a smile, and you... You look up fearfully, from the glass door Yoongyu is smiling at you.

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List : Chapter List

Summary: You are the beloved human mate of seven ancient vampires — Jungkook, Jimin, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung — who are cold, cruel, and utterly obsessed with you. Though they hate humans, you're their exception.

Warnings: 🔞, blood drinking, vampire sex, p in v sex, possessive, dark BTS

HAPPY FESTA Army's!!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Kpop stan since 2022, this is the result of watching Queen of the Damned while reading BTS fanfic haha

Enjoy!

The Quick and The Hungry

"Vampires occur everywhere, but in busy cities no one notices."- Matthew Schofield

The sun was long gone by the time you unlocked the front door, sighing as you stepped into the quiet house. The grand chandelier above swayed slightly with the breeze that followed you inside, casting fractured light across the polished marble floors. Normally, they’d be waiting — at least one of them would greet you with a quiet smile or a teasing remark. But tonight… silence.

Your brows furrowed. The mansion they called home was always a little cold — a permanent chill that seemed to live within its walls. But this felt different. Heavier. Stagnant.

You toed off your shoes, the clicking of your heels replaced by the soft padding of your socks as you moved further inside. "Jungkook? Namjoon? Jin?" you called softly, your voice echoing faintly. No answer.

It wasn’t like them to ignore you. Worry twisting your gut, you climbed the grand staircase, your hand brushing along the intricately carved railing. The hallway upstairs was dimly lit by the flicker of wall sconces, but you knew the way by heart. You stopped in front of the heavy double doors of the shared bedroom, heart beating just a little too fast.

Slowly, you pushed open the door. And there they were. All seven of them sprawled across the massive bed.

Jungkook, his dark hair falling into his pale face, lay across the foot of the bed, his chest rising and falling far too slowly. Jimin was curled up near the headboard, arms wrapped around a pillow as though trying to anchor himself. Jin, elegant even in exhaustion, had his head tilted back against the headboard, his skin nearly translucent under the dim light. Hoseok and Yoongi were side by side, unnaturally still, while Taehyung and Namjoon were draped over each other like discarded dolls.

You gasped, stepping closer. They looked… weak. “Guys?” you whispered, voice trembling. “What’s wrong?”

Namjoon stirred first, his usually sharp eyes opening halfway, revealing crimson irises dulled by fatigue. His voice was barely audible. “You're home...”

You climbed onto the bed, kneeling between them, cupping his cold face with both hands. “What happened to you?”

“We’re fine,” Jin murmured weakly. “Just... tired.”

“Tired?” you repeated, your voice cracking. “You’re never like this.”

Yoongi tried to smirk but failed, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?!” you snapped, panic rising. “Look at you all! You’re barely able to move.”

Jungkook, who could barely lift his head, finally whispered, “We’ll be fine… just need some time.”

“No," you said firmly. "No more lies. You don’t get like this from just ‘being tired.’” Your eyes darted across their fragile forms, realization dawning in the pit of your stomach. The paleness. The weakness. The sluggishness. "You need blood," you said softly, voice breaking.

They didn’t answer.

The silence was enough.

"You haven’t fed properly in weeks, have you?" your voice trembled, tears burning in your eyes.

Jimin’s lip quivered. “We didn’t want to worry you…”

You looked at them — at these powerful, ancient beings reduced to such a fragile state — and your heart shattered. You knew they hated feeding from humans. Hated what they used to be. And because they refused to take blood from anyone else… they were starving.

“You should’ve told me,” you whispered. “I could’ve—”

“No.” Taehyung’s voice was sharp despite his exhaustion. “We didn’t want you involved.”

“You're human," Jin added quietly. "Your blood is too precious to us. One slip… one mistake…”

You shook your head, the first tear slipping free. “Do you think I care about that? Do you think I’d ever let you suffer like this?”

Namjoon weakly reached for your hand, gripping it like it was his lifeline. “We love you too much to risk it.”

You inhaled deeply, wiping your tears away. Your fingers gently brushed the side of Jungkook’s face as you steadied yourself. You grabbed the nearby letter opener ready to cut your wrist but Namjoon used his last of his strength to stop you. Still determined you tugged your hair gently to the side, baring your neck to them. Your pulse thrummed wildly beneath your skin.

For a moment, no one moved. And then, Namjoon slowly sat up, leaning forward with agonizing control. His breath was shaky as he lowered his lips to your neck, his fangs grazing your skin but not yet piercing.

“You’re sure?” he rasped.

“I’m sure.” You felt the sharp prick of his fangs as they sank into your skin. It hurt for a brief moment, but it was quickly replaced by a strange warmth that spread through your body. He was careful — so careful — drawing only what he needed, pulling back far sooner than you expected.

Namjoon licked the wound gently, helping it close before he leaned back, eyes brighter already. He looked healthier within seconds, his pallor fading slightly.

The others watched him with wide, desperate eyes.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Come here.”

Jin moved next, lips brushing your skin reverently before his fangs pierced you. He drank for only a moment, then quickly withdrew, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “You needed this.”

One by one, the others followed — Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Taehyung, and finally Jungkook, who was visibly trembling as he approached you last. His hands shook as he cupped your face.

“I—I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you—”

“You won’t.”

With a strangled whimper, he leaned in and bit down. His breath hitched as he tasted you, his entire body relaxing as life returned to his pale features. His wings briefly unfurled behind him, the black membranes twitching as power flowed back into his body.

When he pulled back, he immediately checked your pulse, eyes darting across your face. “You’re okay?” he breathed.

“I’m okay.” You smiled weakly. “See? Nothing bad happened.”

They gathered around you after, wrapping you in their arms like a cocoon. The warmth of their bodies, now restored with strength, surrounded you like a protective wall.

“You’re too good to us,” Yoongi mumbled into your shoulder.

“No,” you corrected softly, “I love you. That’s different.”

Taehyung nuzzled into your hair. “We don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do. And next time—” your tone shifted, scolding now, “—you’re going to tell me before you starve yourselves, or so help me—”

They chuckled weakly, the sound soft but genuine. Jin wiped a tear from his eye while Hoseok squeezed your hand gently.

“We promise,” Namjoon said softly. “No more secrets.”

“Good,” you said, narrowing your eyes at them for extra emphasis. “I don’t ever want to see you like this again.”

The feeding was over. The sharp sting of their fangs had faded to a dull ache that pulsed gently beneath your skin. Your blood still sang in their veins — you could see it, feel it in the way they hovered close now, vibrant and fully awake, their eyes still slightly dilated, their breathing steady but heavier. The air was thick with tension — not the weak, fragile kind from earlier — but something heady, possessive, and hungry in a much different way.

They sat around you on the bed like a pack circling its prize. Their eyes gleamed under the low amber lights. Though they had sated their thirst for blood, the ancient hunger of what they were still simmered just beneath the surface.

Vampires. Predators. Your vampires. And they had tasted you.

Namjoon was the first to touch you, brushing his knuckles along your cheek, his voice low and dangerous. “You shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart.”

You smiled lazily, leaning into his touch. “If I hadn’t, you’d all be dead. You’re welcome.”

“Reckless,” Yoongi rasped, his eyes locked on the small puncture wounds on your neck. “You’re too soft for your own good.”

“I like soft,” Jimin purred, his lips ghosting near your ear. “Especially when it’s our softness to ruin.”

Taehyung’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips. His voice came out deeper than usual, almost guttural. “You smell different now, angel. Your blood... inside us. It changes everything.”

“You’re all acting like you’re about to devour me again.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but your pulse betrayed you, quickening under the heat of their gazes.

Jungkook chuckled darkly. “That’s because we are.”

They didn’t need more blood. But tasting you had awoken something primal — something they’d kept buried for too long. Now that they’d had your blood on their tongues, it was as if every sense was heightened. The smell of you, the flush of your skin, your rapid heartbeat… all of it taunted them.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to us,” Jin murmured, eyes half-lidded as his fingers traced the curve of your throat.

“I think I do,” you teased, breath catching slightly.

Suddenly Hoseok was behind you, his cool breath skating across your exposed skin. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you against his chest. “You trust us too much, little human.”

Your eyelids fluttered as your head leaned back against him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s dangerous,” Namjoon growled, his patience thinning. “You’re tempting fate.”

You smiled playfully, even as your body buzzed with anticipation at the darkness in his voice. “I think you’re all just sore losers.”

The room went still. Their eyes sharpened at your boldness.

“Losers?” Taehyung repeated, a smirk pulling at his lips. His fangs peeked out once more. “Careful, little one.”

Jungkook’s hand closed gently but firmly around your ankle where it peeked from beneath the blanket, his thumb stroking your skin. “You’re very brave after giving us a taste.”

Yoongi shifted closer, his voice like silk and smoke. “You’ve always been our weakness. But now? Now you’re something else entirely.”

“Mine,” Jin whispered.

“Ours,” Jimin corrected, his lips finally pressing against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped into a breathless, reverent whisper, “All ours.”

The atmosphere thickened until it was nearly unbearable. You could feel yourself growing wet beneath their lingering touches, their words igniting a flame low in your belly. Every fiber of your being was screaming for them to touch you — to take what they clearly wanted — but you didn’t submit just yet.

Instead, you let out a tired little sigh, playing innocent. “Well, if you losers are done drooling over me…” You gave a dramatic yawn, nestling into Hoseok’s arms. “I think I’ll fall asleep now.”

The low growl that rumbled from Namjoon’s chest made your thighs instinctively clench.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“And I always win,” you whispered with a teasing grin, daring him.

Before you could blink, Namjoon’s hand gripped your chin gently but firmly, tilting your head back so you were forced to meet his intense gaze. The warmth of his breath ghosted across your lips. “No one wins against monsters, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, your breath hitching as the room seemed to shrink around you. All of them inched closer now, the heat of their bodies surrounding you, their hands starting to wander — brushing your thighs, your waist, your throat.

Your heartbeat thudded wildly in your chest, and you knew every one of them could hear it.

“But we won’t break you tonight,” Yoongi whispered, his voice laced with restraint and something dangerously fond. “You’ve given enough.”

Jin pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “Sleep, beautiful girl.”

“You’ve earned it,” Hoseok whispered against the back of your neck, sending chills racing down your spine.

Jimin slid down beside you, his hand resting lightly on your stomach as if to calm you. “Tomorrow,” he promised darkly, voice low and filled with heated promise. “Tomorrow, you don’t get to tease us like this.”

Jungkook's fingers traced lazy patterns on your calf, his gaze soft but filled with something hungrier beneath. “And next time, don’t call us losers.”

“Next time,” Taehyung added with a wicked grin, “we’ll remind you exactly who’s in control.”

Their words stirred another wave of arousal in you, but your body, drained from the blood loss and overwhelmed by the possessive affection surrounding you, was already slipping into a warm, safe exhaustion.

As your eyelids grew heavy, you allowed yourself to sink into their arms, cocooned by the dangerous men who worshipped you — who would kill for you. The darkness hummed like a lullaby as seven pairs of watchful crimson eyes guarded you through the night.

Right before you drifted off completely, you whispered one last thing, your voice playful but drowsy:

“Still losers.”

Their quiet growls followed you into sleep — and you smiled, knowing exactly what tomorrow would bring.

🩸🖤❤️🩸🖤❤️🩸🖤❤️🩸🖤❤️🩸🖤❤️

Thank you for reading! ch. 2 coming soon!!

[vampirte]

⃞⃯🪖ৡ⃪꫶⃗. ▬⠀⠀nightmare⠀⠀fuel

[liveyun]

sweetest thing | k.th 🎃

title. sweetest thing

pairing. kim taehyung x reader

genre. halloween au , fantasy au, baker au, friends to lovers (?)

wc. 1.9k

warnings. vampire!tae , human!reader, halloween night !! mentions of supernatural beings and co-existence with humans, baking stuff heehee, very light angst if you squint very hard, fluff, tatamic cameo, our taetae 🐻

main masterlist | taglist 🥮

Eat, drink, and be scary.

In your case, there was a small addition — bake. And god damn, it was a hell of a busy night, your small bakery feeling a bit smaller than usual with the amount of people flooding in with costumes bigger than themselves, faces painted with creativity of the night and hands full of treats to hand away.

It was Halloween.

It felt like the one night the world let its boundaries fade, letting all kinds of beings drift seamlessly among the neighborhood — changing the otherwise cold air of the town to a bit warmer feel. Beneath foggy street lights, creatures of every kind — witches with flickering, real candlelight in their eyes, goblins in patched-up scarves, vampires with their scarlet irises, hybrids who usually preferred to stay in their own colonies or even werewolves with their massive bodies — blended seamlessly among the crowd — are mingling with humans.

You watch, enchanted by it all.

Halloween is something you’d only heard gossips of previously — a night where reality softened itself, allowing creatures and humans to celebrate together. It’s mesmerizing, truly, to see ghouls and fairies roam, joining in the strange joy of humans’ games, even if some seem to find the idea of tricks and treats amusingly silly.

Yet, tonight, they all play along, indulging in the world of Halloween, and you feel something childlike stirring in your chest, a thrill just to be a part of it, even if you’re not necessarily trying to trick people with candies or so.

You’re content to be within the smell of sourdough baking up in the oven.

Outside, laughter rises as trick-or-treaters fill the sidewalks, while your bakery hums with activity as people and beings of all kinds come in for a taste of Halloween magic. Inside, you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with Taehyung, who, if not for the slight glimmer in his gaze, a golden rim circling his pupils, would seem almost too human.

The apron wrapped around him is decorated with little ghosts and bats, and under it, he wears simple clothes that only highlight his warm, honey-toned skin with that soft, dark hair curling boyishly around his face.

Honestly, he looks like anyone else on a Halloween evening, blending so easily that his vampiric nature might be overlooked altogether.

Except for you, of course.

However, tonight, even time falls short on you. The counters are a mess of bowls, cookie cutters, and ghost-shaped éclairs. Dark berry syrups bubble in pots, rich and fragrant, mingling with the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg.

And while Taehyung tends to the syrups, you’re focused on decorating the cookies and piping frosting on pumpkin cupcakes, hands moving quickly to keep up with the demand as customers in costumes drift in and out, some pausing to snap photos of the treats or chat about their plans for the night.

And somehow, it feels that you two are not enough tonight.

Taehyung is busy preparing every sauce and filling — poor fellow is trying his best despite his strong dislike towards the particular “pungent” smell of vanilla (his exact words, not yours) and you can tell by the way how often his nostrils flare down or scrunch when the crowd of your bakery gets too overwhelming.

Shit. You’d nearly forgotten about the chocolate melting over the double boiler!

Initially you were a bit surprised — the bread which you just got an order for, usually is a top seller when the weather calls for hot chocolate and itchy sweaters. You’re running to the counter opposite yours to grab the fresh batch of Hoska when you feel his oddly warm, cool touch on your wrist — Taehyung’s voice finding you, calm yet laced with a quiet curiosity. “Try this,” he says, offering a spoon of dark, vicious looking syrup.

You think it’s kind of sweet because he blows over the spoon gently before offering it to you.

His eyes, dark as the night outside, are fixed on you, watching as you taste the syrup.

You lick the spoon thoughtfully.

It’s rich, sweet, with just a hint of something darker underneath — like the tartness of fresh raspberries.

“It’s sweet,” you hum, licking your lips as you hand him the spoon back. Ah, the bread!

“How sweet?” he asks, his voice soft against the background noise.

You look around, your eyes finding your customers still waiting. They are on your phone as of now, giggling over something. You shouldn’t keep them waiting. “This sweet,” pressing a soft, quick peck to his cheek as you murmur with a smile, not missing the way his eyes widen slightly.

You don’t need to turn to see his reaction; the faint pause says enough.

It’s there in the brief stillness, in the way his hand hovers just a moment too long before he continues stirring.

After a beat, you hear the faintest sound — a small, disbelieving chuckle, soft and unsure, just as rich as the syrup. “That. . . that was. . . ” he trails off, words just a little slower than usual, cheeks flushed even when his body, you know, doesn’t truly circulate blood.

Your order sweeps you back before he can react further as you turn toward the waiting group of teenagers who’ve been watching from a nearby table, their faces alight with barely-contained laughter. You give them a small smile and nod as they bark out their joy, high-fiving.

The group leaves with fresh bread and happy faces.

You turn back to Taehyung who seems to be a bit too concentrated in stirring the syrup which he’s been doing since ten minutes. “That was a dare,” you tell him, trying to stifle the laugh which threatens to bubble up your throat.

There’s a small shift in his expression.

So slight that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. The smile on his lips fades a fraction, replaced with a look you don’t often see from him — a pout which has his lips jutting out, a sight so adorable that it pulls at something inside you.

“So. . . . you didn’t mean it?” he murmurs, eyes lowering as he turns away, almost as if he’s shy.

And there it is — that softness, a note in his voice you hadn’t expected, something almost tender, scared. His question lingers in the air, hanging on to a thread you’re not quite ready to pull.

Did it have to be this specific moment where there are no customers barging in anymore. . . ?

“Would you . . . would you . . . . mind if I did ?” The words slip out, your heart beating a little faster as his gaze meets yours, steady yet gentle, pulling you closer without even trying.

His eyes flicker to your lips before finding your gaze again, and for a moment, the world beyond the bakery fades into nothing. He leans just a little closer as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Well,” he murmurs, lips curving up in that familiar, lazy smile that oddly resembles something in between a box and a smirk. “you might just have to find out.”

And when you feel his arms cage you in between the counter, you think maybe — just maybe — this is the sweetest thing of all.

a/n : happy halloween!! 🎃 i live in an area where halloween is barely known, let alone celebrated. so it’s always going to be a fascinating to me ! while i saw my oomfs online dressing up as characters, i was busy lighting up earthen lamps xD i hope you enjoyed this smol baby and as always, your feedback means a lot to me ! here’s an anonymous feedback box for you just in case 🍁

[tatumrileyslover]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 ℜ𝔬𝔬𝔪

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

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

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

Word count: 30k

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

a/n: ok so this isn’t meant to be in two parts I just hit the tumblr limit so this is the first part. this was originally supposed to be out for Halloween but god did I get too into it and made it more than double the length I want it to be lol. anyway this is based of the gothic novel Carmilla.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔴𝔬

The house sat like a slumbering beast against the autumn sky, its grey stone walls rising from mist-shrouded gardens that had long since forgotten their original design. What was once carefully manicured grandeur had softened over decades into something wilder, though no less beautiful - roses climbed beyond their trellises to embrace weathered statues, and ancient trees stretched their branches toward leaded glass windows that caught the dying light like caught tears.

It was the last great house for fifty miles in any direction, a fact that both the local townspeople and its inhabitants were acutely aware of. While other noble families had slowly surrendered to changing fortunes, selling their lands and titles piece by piece, the family had endured it all. Their walls remained strong, their cellars remained stocked, and their daughter remained safely tucked away behind iron gates and stone walls.

(Y/n) stood at her bedroom window, watching the road that wound through the valley like a black ribbon. Soon it would bring Bertha, her dear friend from the finishing school in Graz. The thought brought a smile to her face as she pressed her fingertips to the cool glass. Three years had passed since they'd last seen each other, maintaining their friendship through letters that grew increasingly infrequent as distance and time worked their inevitable magic. But now, finally, Bertha would be here - bringing with her stories of balls and suitors and all the life that seemed to exist everywhere except within these walls.

A rap at the door drew her attention. "Come in, Papa."

Her father entered, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the candlelight. Though still handsome, years of solitude had etched themselves into the corners of his eyes and mouth. Since her mother's death twelve years ago, he had devoted himself to his studies and his daughter in equal measure, though the former often seemed to win out over the latter.

"Still watching the road, my dear? It will not make her arrive any faster."

"I know, Papa." (Y/n) turned from the window, her skirts rustling against the thick carpet. At nineteen, she possessed the kind of beauty that came from never knowing hardship - skin untouched by sun, hands that had never known labor, eyes that still held the bright curiosity of childhood. "But I cannot help it. The house feels different already, knowing she's coming. Less..."

"Less what, my dear?"

"Less like a cage," she said softly, then immediately regretted her words at the shadow that crossed her father's face. "Forgive me, Papa. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know everything you do is for my protection."

He crossed to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You are all I have left in this world, (Y/n). Your mother..." He paused, as he always did when speaking of her mother. "She made me promise to keep you safe. The world beyond these walls grows more dangerous with each passing year."

(Y/n) nodded dutifully, though her heart ached. She knew every inch of this house, from the wine cellars with their dusty bottles to the attic where her mother's belongings still sat in trunks, untouched since the day she died. She knew which floorboards creaked, which windows caught the morning light, which corners held shadows even at midday. The servants were kind but distant, treating her with the careful reverence one might show a precious object in a museum.

Her world was contained within these walls, and while she could not truly miss what she had never known, sometimes she felt like a character in one of her beloved novels - the imprisoned princess waiting for life to begin. Her only real glimpses of the outside world came from her books, filled with adventures and romance, and from her occasional trips into town with her father for Sunday services.

Even those brief excursions felt like stepping into another world. The townspeople would stare and whisper behind their hands - not unkindly, but with the sort of fascination reserved for rare creatures. The family's wealth and isolation had bred countless rumors over the years, though none came close to the simple truth: they were just lonely, the three of them. Father, daughter, and the great house that held them both.

From her bedroom window, (Y/n) watched the winding road that cut through the valley below their estate. Even at this early hour, she could make out the occasional carriage making its way through the autumn mist. Each distant movement caught her eye, her heart quickening before inevitably sinking as they passed the turn that would bring them up towards the Manor.

"Mademoiselle, you're fidgeting again," Madame Perrodon's gentle reproach came accompanied by a firmer stroke of the hairbrush. "How can I be expected to tame these waves if you cannot sit still?"

"I apologize, Madame." (Y/n) forced herself to be still, though her eyes remained fixed on the distant road. It had been three years since she'd last seen Bertha - three years of letters describing balls and suitors and a world so different from (Y/n)'s carefully contained existence. She could still remember their last afternoon together, huddled in this very window seat, Bertha's eyes bright with excitement about the finishing school that awaited her in Graz.

"Your mother's roses are particularly beautiful this autumn," Madame Perrodon commented, her fingers working deftly to pin (Y/n)'s soft hair into an acceptable style. "Though Marcel lets them grow wild as wolves these days."

The mention of her mother drew (Y/n)'s attention to the familiar portrait hanging opposite her dressing table. The smile seemed to hold secrets, her hands painted delicately among the same roses that now grew unchecked below. Sometimes, in certain lights, (Y/n) thought she could see herself in that smile, though her own felt considerably more practiced.

Through the open door came the excited whispers of maids passing in the hallway. "The kitchen's been baking since dawn..." "All the best linens..." "Miss Rheinfeldt's room is prepared..."

On any other Sunday, they would be preparing for their weekly journey into town for services. (Y/n) felt a twinge of disappointment - she would miss her brief exchanges with Catherine and Marie, the milliner's daughters. Their whispered conversations about books and fashion during the fellowship hour were one of her few connections to girls her own age, even if her father and Madame Perrodon watched these interactions with careful eyes.

"There," Madame declared, securing the final pin. "Now you look-"

But (Y/n) had already risen, drawn to her window by the sound of wheels on gravel. Below, she could see Marcel and Emma in the gardens, their heads turning toward the sound as well. How she envied their easy companionship, the way Emma could freely kneel in the dirt beside her grandfather, learning the secrets of the gardens that had once been her mother's pride. On warmer days, (Y/n) would often sit on the stone bench nearby, watching them work while pretending to read. Marcel would share stories of her mother's passion for the roses, how she would spend hours tending them herself despite her station.

The old house creaked and sighed its morning song around her, floorboards protesting beneath thick carpets as (Y/n) made her way down the grand staircase. Carved angels watched her descent from the bannister, their wooden faces worn smooth by generations of trailing hands. Her mother had once told her they were guardians, keeping watch over the family. Now their blank eyes seemed to follow her, as if they knew something she didn't.

The morning light filtered through tall windows, catching dust motes that danced in the air. Preparations for Bertha's arrival had stirred up the house's usual stillness. Somewhere below, she could hear Mrs. Klaus, the housekeeper, directing maids about the proper arrangement of fresh flowers. The scent of baking bread and autumn spices wafted up from the kitchen - Bertha had always loved Cook's cinnamon cakes.

Memories of their last visit together surfaced as (Y/n) paused on the landing. They had been sixteen then, sharing secrets in the library's window seat while rain drummed against the glass. Bertha, already worldlier despite their same age, had whispered about a young man she'd danced with at her cousin's wedding. (Y/n) had listened, enraptured, trying to imagine what it would feel like to waltz in someone's arms.

The great hall below bustled with unusual activity. Curtains had been drawn back fully, allowing autumn light to illuminate the family portraits that lined the walls. Generations of ancestors stared down at her, their painted eyes holding the same careful reserve she saw in her father's. Her mother's portrait was different though - hung separately near the library doors, captured in the garden she'd loved so dearly. Sometimes (Y/n) would catch her father standing before it, lost in thoughts he never shared.

The morning air had turned peculiar as (Y/n) stepped out onto the terrace. What had started as a bright autumn day now held an odd heaviness, as if the sky itself were holding its breath. The roses swayed in a wind that carried the first real bite of winter, their late blooms scattering crimson petals across the gravel paths.

Marcel and Emma were working near her mother's favorite fountain, their quiet conversation carrying across the garden. The old gardener looked up as she passed, touching his cap with soil-stained fingers.

"The weather's turning, Miss," he called, his weathered face creasing with concern. "Best not stay out too long."

But (Y/n) was already moving toward her favorite spot - the ancient oak that stood sentinel by the pond. Its branches spread like protective arms above the water, creating a private world beneath its canopy. Here, she had spent countless hours reading, dreaming, watching the play of light on water. Here, she and Bertha had shared their last goodbye, promising to write every week.

The oak's massive roots created a natural seat, worn smooth by years of use. Settling herself against the trunk, (Y/n) opened her book but found herself watching the drive instead. The mist had thickened rather than burning off, unusual for this time of day. It crept up from the valley like something alive, wreathing the gardens in white tendrils that seemed to reach for her with ghostly fingers.

The mist continued to thicken, unusual for this time of day, creeping up from the valley like something alive. A chill wind rustled through the oak's branches, sending leaves spiraling down to dot the pond's surface. Each ripple distorted (Y/n)'s reflection, making her appear and disappear like a ghost in the darkening water.

"Please hurry, Bertha," she whispered, pulling her shawl tighter. The weather seemed determined to spoil their reunion. Already the bright autumn morning had given way to something more ominous - clouds gathering above the estate like mourners, the air heavy with unshed rain. If the Rheinfeldts didn't arrive soon, they risked traveling these winding roads in a storm.

The sound of approaching hooves cut through her thoughts. (Y/n) straightened, heart leaping - but no, this was a single rider, not the Rheinfeldts' carriage. Through gaps in the mist, she could make out a figure in a dark coat, riding with the urgent purpose of a messenger rather than a social caller.

From their position near the roses, Marcel and Emma paused in their work to watch the rider's approach. A servant hurried out to meet him, and even at this distance, something in their exchange made (Y/n)'s stomach tighten. The messenger's stance, the careful way the servant accepted what appeared to be a letter...

"That doesn't bode well, does it?" Emma's voice carried softly across the garden.

"Hush, girl," Marcel replied, but his tone held worry rather than rebuke.

(Y/n) turned back to the pond, forcing herself to dismiss their concerns. Perhaps it was simply business for her father - he often received correspondence from his associates in Vienna. The water's surface had grown as dark as steel, reflecting the gathering clouds. A few fat drops of rain began to fall, creating perfect circles that spread and disappeared.

Footsteps on the gravel path made her look up. Her father approached slowly, his usual brisk stride replaced by something heavier, more measured. Without speaking, he lowered himself to sit beside her on the oak's roots - an intimacy so unusual that (Y/n) felt her breath catch.

"Papa?" Her voice sounded very young suddenly, even to her own ears.

He didn't speak immediately, his hands working at something in his lap. When he finally turned to her, she saw he held a letter. The broken seal bore the Rheinfeldt family crest.

"My dearest," he began, his voice gentle in a way that made her want to cover her ears. "I have news about Bertha."

With trembling fingers, (Y/n) accepted the letter. The paper was fine, expensive - the kind Bertha's father always used for his correspondence. But as she unfolded it, the familiar letterhead seemed somehow more formal, more foreboding:

From Baron Rheinfeldt

Castle Rheinfeldt

October 15th, 1872

My Dear Friend,

It is with the heaviest of hearts that I must write to you, bearing news that has shattered our household and will, I fear, bring great sorrow to your own - particularly to your dear (Y/n), whose friendship meant so much to my beloved Bertha.

I know you were expecting us within the week, and I cannot express the pain it causes me to instead send this letter. My darling daughter, my only child, has been taken from us in circumstances so peculiar and distressing that I can scarcely put them to paper. Yet you must know, if only to spare your household the anxiety of waiting for an arrival that can never come.

Three weeks ago, Bertha began to speak of strange dreams. She would wake in the night, claiming visitations from a dark figure that left her weak and frightened. We dismissed these as mere fancies at first - you know how imaginative she could be. But soon she grew pale and listless, her strength declining day by day. The local physician could find no cause for her malady, though she complained of a sharp pain in her breast and a gradual suffocation that seemed to worsen as each night fell.

Two nights ago, she woke screaming that the figure was in her room, but when we rushed to her aid, nothing was amiss. By morning, she could barely speak, her pulse so faint as to be almost imperceptible. Before the sun set that day, my beautiful child, my darling Bertha, had left this world.

The doctors speak of a mysterious illness, but can offer no true explanation for how a young woman in the bloom of health could decline so rapidly. I write this not only to explain our absence but to warn you - there have been other cases in our region of young women suffering similar fates. Perhaps it is some fever that has yet to be understood by medical science.

Please convey my deepest apologies to (Y/n). I know she and Bertha had been planning this reunion with great excitement. The thought of their joy makes this tragedy all the more bitter to bear.

Your friend in profound grief,

Baron Frederick Rheinfeldt

The letter trembled in (Y/n)'s hands, its meaning somehow both clear and incomprehensible. She read it again, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less final.

"But," she said finally, her voice small, "we've prepared her room. Cook made cinnamon cakes."

Her father's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. The gesture only made everything feel more wrong.

"The roses," she continued, the words spilling out like water. "They're beautiful right now - Bertha always loved them in autumn. She said they looked like sunset caught in flowers. We were going to press them in books, like we used to. I saved that collection of poetry she wrote about in her last letter - the one with the blue binding she described. It's on her bedside table, waiting..."

Tears came then, not in great heaving sobs, but in silent streams that seemed to surprise her. She touched her cheek, looking at the moisture on her fingers as if she couldn't quite understand where it had come from.

"She can't be..." (Y/n) smoothed the letter in her lap, focusing on removing every crease. "We were going to show her the new kittens in the stable. She doesn't even know about them yet. And her room - we put fresh lavender in all the drawers, just as she likes. The blue guest room, Papa. Her favorite. Madame Perrodon helped me arrange dried flowers just as she described seeing at that ball in Vienna..."

The afternoon light had begun to fade, the mist curling thicker around the garden's edges. Her father shifted uncomfortably on the oak's roots beside her.

"My dear, perhaps we should-"

"And the piano," (Y/n) interrupted, her voice taking on a peculiar, singsong quality. "We've had it tuned specially. That new piece she mentioned - the Mozart sonata. I've been practicing it for weeks so we could play it together. She was so excited about showing me how her technique has improved since finishing school. She said..." Her voice cracked. "She said we would play it for you, after dinner on her first night here."

A cool wind rustled through the oak's branches, sending dead leaves spiraling down to dot the pond's surface. Each ripple distorted (Y/n)'s reflection, making her appear and disappear like a ghost in the darkening water.

"(Y/n)." Her father's voice was gentle but insistent. "The weather is turning. We should return to the house."

But she shook her head, clutching the letter tighter. "Just a little longer. She might still... There could be a mistake. Baron Rheinfeldt is older now, he could have become confused. If we just wait..."

The hours crept by, marked only by the gradual darkening of the sky and the periodic attempts of servants to coax them inside. First Marcel, pausing in his work to suggest rain was coming. Then Emma, sent by Cook with a tray of tea that grew cold, untouched. Finally Madame Perrodon herself, wringing her hands in distress at the sight of her charge sitting so still in the growing dark.

"Mademoiselle, please. You'll catch your death."

"You see?" (Y/n) seized on the common phrase with desperate hope. "People say that - 'catch your death.' But they don't really die. It's just something people say."

The sun had long since disappeared behind heavy clouds, the mist thickening into true darkness. One by one, lights began to appear in the house windows, warm squares of yellow that seemed to emphasize the gathering gloom in the garden. The pond's surface had grown as dark as steel, reflecting nothing now but the occasional ripple of rain drops.

Her father had remained beside her throughout, his silence both a comfort and a terrible confirmation. Now he stirred again, his joints surely aching from sitting so long on the hard roots.

"My dearest," he began, but stopped at the sound of distant carriage wheels on the road below.

(Y/n)'s head snapped up, hope flaring painfully in her chest. Through the mist, she could make out the bobbing lights of carriage lanterns, weaving their way up the treacherous road that led to their estate.

"You see?" she whispered. "You see? I knew if we just waited-"

The crash, when it came, was distant but unmistakable - the splintering of wood and the high, terrible scream of frightened horses cutting through the night air. The lantern lights jerked violently, then disappeared altogether.

Father and daughter sat frozen, straining to hear through the darkness. The silence that followed seemed to stretch eternally, broken only by the soft patter of rain on leaves.

"Papa?" (Y/n)'s voice had lost its childish insistence, fear creeping in at last.

(Y/n) was moving before her mind could catch up with her legs, her skirts gathered in trembling hands as she rushed toward the road. Behind her, she could hear her father's voice calling out, "(Y/n)! Wait!" but the sound seemed distant, unimportant.

The path down to the road was treacherous in daylight; in the gathering dark it was nearly impossible. Her boots slipped on wet leaves, branches caught at her hair and dress like grasping fingers. The mist had settled thick between the ancient trees, turning familiar paths into something alien and forbidding. Behind her, she could hear the gathering sounds of pursuit - servants calling out, the bounce of lantern light, her father's increasingly urgent voice.

It wasn't until she reached the road itself that doubt began to creep in. The fog here was even thicker, seeming to swallow the weak moonlight whole. The trees pressed close on either side, their branches forming a dark canopy overhead that blocked what little light remained. Every sound seemed muffled, wrong - as if the fog itself was drinking them in.

"Miss (Y/n)!" Marcel's voice, accompanied by approaching lantern light. "Please wait for us!"

She paused then, her heart pounding, suddenly aware of how far she'd run and how dark it had grown. The crash had sounded closer. Or had her fear made her imagine that?

Her father caught up to her first, slightly out of breath. "Reckless girl," he muttered, but there was relief rather than anger in his voice. Behind him came Marcel and two other servants with lanterns, their light creating strange, shifting shadows among the trees.

A horse's frightened whinny cut through the fog, much closer now. (Y/n) moved forward more cautiously, her father's hand firm on her arm. The lantern light caught something metallic ahead - the gleam of an overturned carriage wheel, still spinning slowly.

As they drew closer, the scene emerged from the fog like a painting being unveiled. The carriage lay on its side, one wheel completely shattered. The horses, still partially harnessed, stamped and snorted nervously, their breath visible in the cold air. This was not the Rheinfeldts' familiar family carriage - this was something altogether grander and stranger, its black lacquered surface gleaming wet in the lantern light, its gilt trim suggesting foreign wealth.

"Hello?" her father called out. "Is anyone hurt?"

A movement near the carriage door drew their attention. A woman's voice, low and melodious, called back in accented French. "Ah, thank heaven. We've had quite the accident, as you can see."

The door, now facing skyward, opened with some effort. A figure emerged - a woman, elegant even in disarray, her dark traveling clothes of the finest quality. There was something striking about her face, though (Y/n) found she couldn't quite focus on its details in the shifting light.

"Allow me to assist you, Madame," her father stepped forward, helping the woman climb down from the tilted carriage. Marcel and the other servants moved to steady her descent.

"You are most kind," the woman said, switching to perfect if accented English. "We were on our way to visit friends in the next county when our driver took ill suddenly. The fog..." she gestured eloquently at their surroundings. "The road proved more treacherous than expected."

"Your driver - is he-?" her father began.

"Gone, I'm afraid. Fled into the woods in some sort of fit. But my greater concern is my son." Here she turned back to the carriage, genuine distress entering her voice. "He was thrown rather badly when we overturned. I haven't been able to wake him."

"Several of my men might assist in extracting him, Madame," her father offered, already gesturing to the servants.

The elegant woman nodded, stepping aside with a grace that seemed out of place in their dire circumstances. The lantern light caught her features strangely - one moment sharp as cut glass, the next oddly indistinct, like a painting seen through water.

Marcel and Thomas, one of the stronger footmen, approached the carriage carefully. The fog seemed to curl around their feet as they worked, making their movements appear dreamlike and sluggish. From within the dark interior came the sound of shifting fabric, a soft groan.

"Gentle, if you please," the woman called out, though her tone held more courtesy than real concern. "He is all I have in this world."

The words were right, (Y/n) thought, but something in their delivery rang false, like an actress reciting well-rehearsed lines. She found herself watching the woman's face, trying to fix its details in her mind, but each time she looked away, the memory of those features seemed to slip like water through her fingers.

"Carefully now," her father directed as the servants began to lift their unconscious charge. The lantern light swept across the scene, and (Y/n) felt her breath catch in her throat.

The young man they carried was beauty made flesh - there was no other way to describe him. His face, unconscious and unguarded, held a quality that seemed to transcend mere human comeliness. Dark hair fell across his forehead in elegant disarray, and even in the poor light, his skin held a luminous quality, like moonlight on fresh snow. His clothes, though disarranged by the accident, were clearly of the finest quality - black velvet and silk that seemed to drink in the lantern light.

There was something about his face that tugged at (Y/n)'s memory, something tantalizingly familiar that danced just beyond her grasp. She found herself moving forward without conscious thought, drawn by an impulse she couldn't name.

"(Y/n)," her father's warning tone brought her up short. She realized she'd nearly reached out to touch the unconscious stranger's hand.

"He will be well, I think," the woman said, watching (Y/n) with an expression that might have been amusement. "Just stunned by the fall. What fortune that we should crash so near to such a grand house." Her gesture encompassed the manor, barely visible through the fog above them. "I don't suppose..."

"Of course," her father said immediately, nobility's obligations winning out over any hesitation. "We can offer shelter while arrangements are made for your onward journey."

"You are too kind." Again, that perfect courtesy that somehow felt hollow. "I hate to impose further, but I find myself in something of a predicament. I have urgent business that cannot wait - a matter of inheritance that requires my immediate presence. My son, however, is in no condition to travel."

(Y/n) watched in growing amazement as the woman outlined her request with elegant precision. Might her son remain here, under their care, while she attended to these pressing matters? She would, of course, send word within a day or two of her return date. She had friends in the region she'd been traveling to visit - though oddly, she didn't name them - who would vouch for their character.

"I cannot ask you to take on such a responsibility," she said, in a tone that suggested she expected exactly that.

"Nonsense," her father replied, though (Y/n) detected a slight unease in his voice. "We can hardly turn away those in need, especially of our own class. Your son will be well cared for until your return."

"You ease my heart," the woman said, though (Y/n) noticed she hadn't once looked back at her unconscious son since the servants had lifted him. "I can arrange alternate transport from the next town, if one of your men might assist me that far?"

It was all happening so quickly. Even as her father gave instructions for a groom to accompany the mysterious woman, even as Marcel and Thomas began their careful ascent toward the house with their unconscious burden, (Y/n) found herself struggling to understand how smoothly it had all been arranged. It was only when the woman stepped close to bid her farewell that a chill ran down her spine.

"Watch over him for me, dear one," the woman said softly, her fingers brushing (Y/n)’s cheek in a gesture that felt both intimate and alien. This close, her eyes seemed to hold a peculiar depth, like wells that went down forever. "He can be... difficult when he wakes. But I'm sure you'll manage him beautifully."

Then she was gone, disappearing into the fog with their groom, leaving behind only the overturned carriage and her unconscious son - and a lingering sense that something momentous and terrible had just been set in motion.

The house seemed to stir with nervous energy as they made their way back up the path, lanterns bobbing like will-o'-wisps through the fog. Marcel and Thomas carried their unconscious guest with careful precision, while Madame Perrodon hurried ahead to prepare the blue guest room - Bertha's room, (Y/n) thought with a sudden pang that felt almost like betrayal.

The entrance hall's warmth was a shock after the chill fog, the familiar space somehow changed by the evening's events. Servants whispered in corners, stealing glances at the beautiful stranger being carried up the grand staircase. The house itself seemed to hold its breath, ancient wood creaking under strange footsteps.

"The blue room, sir?" Madame Perrodon called down from the landing, her face pinched with concern.

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten. "Papa, not-"

"It is the most suitable guest room," her father said quietly. His hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. "And it is... available."

The blue room had always been the grandest of their guest chambers. Its walls were painted a soft cornflower blue that caught the morning light beautifully, making the gilt-framed mirrors dance with reflected sunshine. Now, in the flickering candlelight, those same walls seemed almost grey, the mirrors reflecting only shadows as they carried his limp form through the doorway.

The bed was already turned down - prepared that morning for Bertha, (Y/n) remembered with another stab of grief. The very sheets that had been aired with lavender for her friend would now cradle this strange young man. She watched as they laid him carefully on the blue silk counterpane, his dark hair stark against the pale pillows, his face ethereally beautiful in the candlelight.

"Mademoiselle," Madame Perrodon touched her arm. "Perhaps you should retire. It's been a trying day."

But (Y/n) couldn't move, transfixed by the scene before her. Mrs. Klaus had appeared with hot water and cloths, presumably to tend to any injuries. The housekeeper's usually efficient movements seemed hesitant as she approached the bed, as if she too sensed something not quite natural about their mysterious guest.

"He appears unmarked," Mrs. Klaus said finally, her voice holding a note of surprise. "Not a scratch on him, despite the violence of the accident."

"Providence," her father murmured, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

(Y/n) found her gaze drawn to his face again. In the better light, she could study his features properly - the elegant arch of his brows, the perfect curve of his mouth, the almost translucent quality of his skin. There was something about him that nagged at her memory, like a word trapped on the tip of her tongue.

"Look how peaceful he sleeps," she heard herself say, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. "Like a painting."

"(Y/n)." Her father's tone was sharper now. "To your room. It's not proper for you to..."

He trailed off as the boy stirred slightly, his head turning on the pillow. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, watching, but he didn't wake. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, and again (Y/n) felt that maddening sense of familiarity.

"Come, mademoiselle." Madame Perrodon's grip on her arm was firmer now. "You've had a shock. First the news about poor Bertha, and now this excitement. You must rest."

The mention of Bertha's name seemed to break whatever spell had held (Y/n) in place. She allowed herself to be led from the room, though she couldn't help glancing back one last time. In the moment before the door closed, she could have sworn she saw his lips curve in the slightest smile.

Sleep proved impossible that night. (Y/n) lay in her bed, listening to the house settle around her with unfamiliar creaks and sighs. Even Madame Perrodon's usual soft breathing from the adjoining room provided little comfort. The events of the day swirled in her mind like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind - Bertha's letter, the crash, the strange elegant woman, and most persistently, the beautiful unconscious young man now sleeping in what should have been her friend's room.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, hauntingly perfect in the candlelight. That maddening sense of familiarity tugged at her thoughts, like a half-remembered dream. There was something about the curve of his mouth, the arch of his brow...

A floorboard creaked in the hallway - probably just Mrs. Klaus making her nightly rounds, but (Y/n) found herself holding her breath, straining to hear. The blue room was just down the corridor. Was their mysterious guest still sleeping? The woman - his mother, though something about that relationship felt odd - had said he might be 'difficult' when he woke. What had she meant by that?

The wind picked up outside, branches scratching against her window like skeletal fingers. The sound reminded her of the carriage crash, of the fog-shrouded road. How strange that the woman had left so quickly, abandoning her supposedly beloved son to the care of strangers. And where had the driver gone? The more (Y/n) thought about it, the more questions arose.

She must have drifted off eventually, for she found herself in that strange space between sleeping and waking, where reality blurs at the edges. The moonlight through her window seemed to pool like silver water on the floor, and in its glow, she thought she saw a figure standing at the foot of her bed. A beautiful face looking down at her, familiar yet wrong somehow...

(Y/n) jerked awake, her heart pounding. The room was empty, the moonlight now nothing more than pale squares on the carpet. But the sense of a presence lingered, making her skin prickle with unnamed awareness.

"Madame?" she called softly, but only silence answered from the adjoining room.

Sleep proved even more elusive after that. She lay awake until the first grey light of dawn began to creep through her windows, bringing with it the usual morning sounds of the household stirring to life. She could hear servants moving below, their muffled voices carrying up through the floorboards. The smell of breakfast began to wind its way up the stairs - fresh bread and coffee, the normal rhythms of the house attempting to reassert themselves after the previous day's disruption.

A knock at her door made her start. "Mademoiselle?" Madame Perrodon's voice. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, come in."

The French woman entered, already dressed for the day, her face carrying an odd expression. "Your father requests your presence at breakfast. Our... guest still sleeps."

The morning light in the breakfast room seemed too harsh, too ordinary after the strangeness of the night. (Y/n) picked at her toast, aware of the unusual tension around the table. Her father sat at his customary place, the morning paper untouched beside his coffee cup. Even the servants seemed to move differently, their usual efficient routines interrupted by frequent glances toward the ceiling - toward the blue room above.

"Has anyone checked on him?" (Y/n) finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

"Mrs. Klaus looked in at dawn," her father replied, frowning slightly. "Still sleeping, apparently. Quite deeply."

"It's nearly ten o'clock," Madame Perrodon observed, her usual calm manner betraying a hint of unease. "Should we perhaps summon Dr. Werner?"

"The mother said he would sleep unusually long," her father said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "Something about a previous illness making him sensitive to travel."

"Did she?" (Y/n) asked, trying to recall the woman's exact words from the night before. But like so much about their mysterious visitor's mother, the details seemed to slip away when examined too closely.

The breakfast room fell silent again, broken only by the clink of silver against china and the tick of the great clock in the hall. Through the windows, (Y/n) could see Marcel in the gardens, seemingly intent on his work but positioned suspiciously close to the section beneath the blue room's windows.

Hours crept by with excruciating slowness. (Y/n) attempted to focus on her needlework, but found herself counting the chimes of the clock instead. Eleven. Twelve. One...

It was well past two in the afternoon when Mrs. Klaus appeared in the drawing room doorway, her usually unflappable demeanor slightly disturbed. "Sir," she addressed (Y/n)'s father, "The young gentleman is awake. He's asked to pay his respects to the household."

Something in the housekeeper's tone made (Y/n) look up sharply. Mrs. Klaus's face held an odd expression - not quite fear, but something adjacent to it.

"How does he seem?" her father asked, setting aside his book.

"Most..." Mrs. Klaus paused, seeming to search for the right word. "Most elegant, sir. Though perhaps still somewhat affected by his ordeal. He's asked to dress properly before receiving visitors."

"Of course," her father nodded. "We shall receive him here when he's ready."

The next half hour was torture. (Y/n) found herself smoothing her skirts repeatedly, hyper-aware of her reflection in the drawing room mirrors. That nagging sense of familiarity had returned, stronger now that their guest was awake.

When the drawing room door finally opened again, the late afternoon sun had begun to slant through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. In that golden light, their guest appeared like something from a painting - perfectly composed, unnaturally beautiful. His dark clothes were immaculate, showing no sign of the previous night's accident. His face...

(Y/n) felt her breath catch. In the daylight, that sense of recognition was almost overwhelming.

He moved into the room with impossible grace, every gesture deliberate yet fluid, like a dancer marking steps to unheard music. His dark eyes found (Y/n)'s immediately, and something passed between them - recognition, connection, a current of awareness that made her hands tremble in her lap.

"Sir," he addressed her father with a slight bow, his voice musical and deeply cultured. "I must express my profound gratitude for your hospitality. My name is..." Here he paused, almost imperceptibly, "Park. I find myself indebted to your kindness."

"Not at all," her father replied, though (Y/n) noticed he seemed slightly dazzled by their guest's presence. "We could hardly leave you in such circumstances. I am the Baron, and this is my daughter, (Y/n)."

Those dark eyes returned to her face. "Mademoiselle." He took her offered hand, his fingers cool against her skin. "Your beauty rivals the stars in their midnight dance"

(Y/n) felt herself flush, acutely aware of how forward such a comment was - and how, strangely, no one seemed to mind. Even Madame Perrodon, usually so quick to enforce propriety, appeared captivated.

"You must still be recovering from your ordeal," (Y/n) found herself saying. "Please, sit." She gestured to the chair nearest hers, then wondered at her own boldness.

He smiled - a subtle thing that seemed to transform his entire face - and accepted the seat. "You are too kind. Though I confess, the accident itself is somewhat... hazy in my memory."

"Not unusual, given the circumstances," her father said. "Your mother mentioned you'd been unwell recently?"

Again that barely perceptible pause. "Yes, a recurring condition that makes travel... challenging. Which makes your generous offer of shelter all the more appreciated."

"How fortunate that you were so near when the accident occurred," (Y/n) said, then immediately worried it might sound accusatory.

But he only turned that devastating smile on her again. "Fortune indeed. Though I believe some meetings are destined, don't you? Written in the stars, as poets would say."

The way he looked at her as he said it - as if they were sharing a private joke, as if they'd known each other forever - made her heart flutter strangely. That nagging sense of familiarity grew stronger.

"Do you read poetry, Mademoiselle?"

"(Y/n)," she corrected without thinking, then blushed again. "And yes, I'm particularly fond of the Romantics."

"Ah!" His entire face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "Then we must discuss Byron. 'The Dream' has been much in my thoughts lately." He began to recite softly:

"'Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,

A boundary between the things misnamed

Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world...'"

His voice seemed to caress each word, giving them new meaning. (Y/n) found herself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by his presence, his passion for the poetry she loved.

Her father cleared his throat, but she noticed his expression had softened. It had been weeks since he'd seen her truly engaged with anyone, she realized. Not since the excitement of planning Bertha's visit...

The thought of Bertha should have brought fresh pain, but somehow it felt distant, unimportant compared to the magnetic presence of their guest.

"Perhaps," her father said carefully, "you might show our guest the library after tea? I understand you share a love of literature."

Tea had been a strangely intimate affair, their guest, displaying impeccable manners while barely touching his cup. Now, as (Y/n) led him through the manor's winding corridors toward the library, she found herself acutely aware of his presence behind her, the way the air seemed to change when he moved.

The library had always been her sanctuary, its floor-to-ceiling shelves creating the impression of a forest made of books. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows, catching dust motes that danced like golden snow in the air. She turned to gauge his reaction and found him already watching her, that same knowing smile playing at his lips.

"Your home is remarkable," he said, moving past her to trail his fingers along the spines of nearby books. "These volumes... quite a collection. Your father's?"

"Many were my mother's," (Y/n) replied, watching as he pulled out a volume of Byron. "She had quite passionate opinions about literature."

"Had?" He glanced up, those dark eyes suddenly intent.

"She passed when I was seven."

"Ah." Something flickered across his face - understanding? Recognition? "My condolences. Though I suspect she left you her love of poetry?"

(Y/n) moved closer, drawn by the way his fingers caressed the book's leather binding. "You quoted Byron earlier - 'The Dream.'"

"Yes." He turned toward her fully then, and she realized how close they'd gotten. His voice dropped lower, intimate. "You must call me Jimin. Somehow 'Park' feels... inadequate. Too formal for what I sense between us."

The way he said it - as if they shared some profound secret - made her breath catch. That nagging familiarity surged again, stronger than ever.

"Have we..." she started, then hesitated. "This may sound strange, but I feel as though..."

"As though we've met before?" His smile held something dangerous now, thrilling. "Perhaps in dreams?"

The word triggered something - a memory trying to surface - but before she could grasp it, he was moving again, graceful as a cat, pulling another book from the shelves.

"Ah, Coleridge. Another poet fascinated by dreams and the boundaries between worlds." He began to read, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality.

The library had grown darker around them, the sunset painting the sky beyond the windows in shades of blood and gold. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken things. His closeness should have made her uncomfortable, yet somehow it felt... inevitable.

"I hardly slept last night," (Y/n) found herself confessing, her voice barely above a whisper. "There was something... strange."

Jimin's expression shifted subtly, a flash of intense interest quickly masked. "Strange how?"

"I thought..." she hesitated, aware of how foolish it might sound. "I woke in the night - or perhaps I was still dreaming - and there was a figure, standing at the foot of my bed. Just... watching me."

His fingers, still lingering near her face, stilled completely. "And this frightened you?"

"No," she realized, surprised by her own answer. "It should have, shouldn't it? A stranger in my room. But it felt... familiar somehow. Like a half-remembered lullaby."

The last rays of sunlight caught in his dark eyes, making them appear almost burgundy. "Dreams have their own truth," he said softly. "Sometimes truer than what we think we know when awake."

Something in his tone made her shiver, though not unpleasantly. She found herself studying his face in the fading light, trying to catch that elusive sense of recognition that kept dancing just beyond her grasp. "Do you dream, Jimin?"

His smile held secrets. "Oh yes. Though sometimes I find it hard to distinguish between dreams and memories. Don't you find them remarkably similar? Both grow hazy around the edges, both feel real while we're in them..." He shifted slightly closer. "Both can haunt us long after we think we've forgotten them."

The library had grown so dark that his face was now mostly shadow, yet his eyes seemed to catch what little light remained. (Y/n) was acutely aware of how improper their situation had become - alone in the growing dark, sitting far too close. Yet she couldn't bring herself to move away.

"Tell me about your life here," he said suddenly, his voice gentle. "This beautiful cage of yours."

She started at his choice of words - so similar to her own thoughts. "How did you-?"

"I recognize the look," he interrupted softly. "The way you watch the road from your windows. The hunger in your eyes when you speak of your friend... Bertha, was it?"

The name should have brought fresh pain, but somehow it felt distant, unimportant in the face of his overwhelming presence. "Yes, she was... she was to visit. Before..."

"Before fate intervened," he finished for her. "Perhaps it was meant to be this way. Perhaps I was meant to find you instead."

The presumption of such a statement should have shocked her, yet she found herself nodding. "I've never been able to talk to anyone like this," she admitted. "Even Bertha... there were always proper things to say, proper ways to be. This feels..."

"Different," he supplied. "Real. As if we've known each other forever." His cool fingers found hers in the darkness. "As if we've met before."

That nagging sense of familiarity surged again, stronger than ever. There was something about his face in the shadows, something about the way he looked at her...

The sound of footsteps in the corridor broke the spell. They moved apart just as Madame Perrodon appeared in the doorway, carrying a lamp that made them both blink at its sudden brightness.

"Mademoiselle, it's nearly time to dress for dinner." Her tone held a gentle reproof. "And the lamps should have been lit an hour ago. It's not good for your eyes, reading in such dim light."

(Y/n) stood, suddenly aware of how long they'd been secluded together, how improper it must seem. But when she glanced at Jimin, he appeared perfectly composed, as if they'd been discussing nothing more intimate than the weather.

"My fault entirely, Madame," he said, rising with fluid grace. "I'm afraid I quite lost track of time, enchanted by your charge's conversation."

Something in the way he said it - so perfectly proper yet somehow suggesting deeper meanings - made (Y/n)'s cheeks flush. Madame Perrodon's expression suggested she caught the undertone as well, though she said nothing.

"Will you join us for dinner?" (Y/n) asked, not ready for their conversation to end.

A shadow seemed to pass over his face. "I fear I'm still somewhat fatigued from yesterday's... excitement. Perhaps tomorrow? The daylight hours particularly tax my strength."

"Of course," she said quickly, concerned. "You must rest."

He caught her hand as she passed, his touch cool and electric. "Dream of me," he whispered, too soft for Madame Perrodon to hear.

Something about the way he said it - half playful, half command - sent another shiver down her spine. As if she could dream of anything else.

Dinner that evening felt like a strange performance where (Y/n) couldn't quite remember her lines. The familiar rhythms of the household - the clink of silver against fine china, the measured steps of servants, her father's occasional comments about estate matters - seemed to come from very far away. Her thoughts kept drifting upstairs, to the blue room where Jimin now rested.

"(Y/n)?" Her father's voice broke through her reverie. "You've been pushing the same pea around your plate for ten minutes."

"I'm sorry, Papa." She forced herself to take a bite, though the food held little interest. "I suppose I'm a bit tired."

Her father studied her over his wine glass, his expression thoughtful. "Our guest seems... interesting. You spent quite some time in the library today."

Something in his tone made her glance up sharply, but his face held only mild curiosity. If anything, he looked pleased - the first time she'd seen such an expression since Bertha's letter arrived.

"He's very well-read," she offered carefully. "We discussed poetry, and..."

"And?" her father prompted when she trailed off, remembering the intensity of Jimin's gaze in the falling darkness.

"He understands things," she found herself saying. "About feeling... isolated. Different." The words came out before she could stop them, more honest than she'd meant to be.

Her father's face softened. "I know these past years have been lonely for you, my dear. Perhaps it's providence that brought him to us, especially after..." He didn't need to finish the sentence. Bertha's death hung between them, an invisible weight.

"Yes," (Y/n) whispered, though something about suggesting providence in connection with Jimin felt strange, almost blasphemous.

"Still," Madame Perrodon interjected from her place at the table, "proper chaperoning must be maintained. A young man, however well-bred..."

"Of course, of course," her father waved off the concern. "But surely some companionship would do (Y/n) good. And he seems a perfect gentleman."

Perfect. The word echoed in (Y/n)'s mind. He was perfect - too perfect, perhaps. Like a painting of a person rather than a person themselves. Even now, she found she couldn't quite recall the exact details of his face, though she'd spent hours studying it. It was as if his features shifted slightly in her memory, like reflections in moving water.

"Mademoiselle?" One of the maids - Anne - was at her elbow. "You've gone quite pale. Are you unwell?"

"Just tired," (Y/n) repeated, though tired wasn't quite the right word. She felt... anticipated, as if she were waiting for something to begin. "Perhaps I should retire early."

"A wise choice," Madame Perrodon said, rising to accompany her.

As they climbed the grand staircase, (Y/n) found her eyes drawn to the blue room's door. No light showed beneath it, but she had the strangest feeling that behind that heavy oak panel, in the darkness, Jimin was awake. Waiting. Thinking of her as she thought of him.

"Sweet dreams, my dear," Madame Perrodon said as they reached (Y/n)'s room. Something in her tone suggested she'd noticed the lingering glance at the blue room's door.

Alone in her room, (Y/n) moved to her window. The night was clear, stars scattered across the sky like diamond dust. Somewhere in the gardens, a nightingale began to sing. The sound made her think of Jimin's voice, the hypnotic way he'd spoken of dreams and memories.

Her reflection in the window glass looked strange to her - pale, eyes too bright, as if she were already half in a dream. Behind her, shadows gathered in the corners of her room, and she could have sworn they moved like living things...

That night, sleep came to (Y/n) like a creeping tide. The moon hung full and low outside her window, casting strange shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. In that liminal space between waking and dreaming, time began to slip and stretch like pulled taffy.

She first became aware of her paralysis when she tried to turn away from the moonlight. Her limbs felt leaden, refusing to obey even the simplest commands. The air in her room grew thick, heavy with an invisible presence that seemed to press down upon her chest.

Then came the smell - that peculiar sweetness she'd noticed about Jimin, like roses on the edge of decay mixed with something older, something that reminded her of ancient books and midnight gardens. Instead of frightening her, the scent brought an odd comfort, making her mind drift deeper into that strange half-conscious state.

The mattress dipped beside her, as if someone had sat down with infinite care. Cool fingers seemed to brush her cheek, trail down her neck with exquisite tenderness. She should have been terrified - would have been, in any other circumstance. But there was something achingly familiar about the touch, about the presence that filled her room like smoke.

A weight settled over her, not crushing but encompassing, as if she were being embraced by the night itself. That sweet, strange scent grew stronger, and with it came a sensation of being cherished, desired, consumed - all at once. The moonlight caught something moving above her - a face perhaps, beautiful and terrible in equal measure - but before she could focus on its features, consciousness began to slip away entirely.

The last thing she felt was a sharp, sweet pain just above her breast - two points of exquisite sensation that sent waves of pleasure-pain through her increasingly distant body. A voice might have whispered something, ancient words in a language she didn't know but somehow understood, but by then she was falling into deeper dreams...

Morning came with strange heaviness. (Y/n) woke feeling as though she'd been drugged, her limbs weighted with an unfamiliar lethargy. Sunlight streamed through her windows, yet she felt none of its warmth. There was a peculiar sensation in her breast - not quite pain, but a presence, as if someone had pressed their hand there and the pressure lingered, though nothing showed.

"Mademoiselle?" Madame Perrodon's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are you unwell? It's past nine..."

"Just tired," (Y/n) managed, though 'tired' wasn't the right word. She felt simultaneously drained and oddly euphoric, as if she were floating just slightly above herself.

The morning passed in a dream-like haze. She found herself drifting off during breakfast, her father's voice fading in and out like a poorly tuned piano. The tea tasted strange in her mouth, the toast turning to ash on her tongue.

"Perhaps you should rest today," her father suggested, watching her with concern. "You're quite pale."

But the thought of returning to bed held no appeal. Instead, she found herself drawn to the upper corridor, to the blue room where their guest presumably still slept. The door, she noticed, was firmly locked - Mrs. Klaus's knocking going unanswered as she attempted to deliver tea.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Jimin finally emerged. (Y/n) had taken refuge in the library, attempting to read but finding the words swimming before her eyes. His entrance was silent - she looked up to find him simply there, watching her with those dark, knowing eyes.

"You look tired," he said softly, settling into the chair opposite hers. In the fading daylight, his own face held a similar languor, as if he too were recovering from some midnight exertion.

"Strange dreams," she found herself saying, though she couldn't quite remember them. Just impressions remained - a weight on her chest, cool fingers against her skin, a presence both terrifying and beloved.

Something flickered in his eyes - interest? Recognition? But he only smiled that secretive smile and began speaking of other things. As darkness fell, his lethargy seemed to lift. By evening, he was almost vibrant, his movements acquiring that fluid grace she remembered from their first meeting.

That week settled into a strange pattern. Each morning, (Y/n) woke feeling increasingly drained, yet somehow lighter, as if she were slowly becoming less substantial. Jimin's door remained locked until late afternoon, no amount of knocking drawing response. Their conversations, when he finally appeared, grew more intimate, more intense.

"Tell me about your dreams," he would say, his voice holding that hypnotic quality that made her want to confess everything. But the dreams remained elusive - just fragments of sensation, of presence, of a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

News came, carried by Marcel who'd been to the village, that Catherine - the milliner's daughter - had taken ill with some mysterious malady. "Weak as a kitten," the gardener reported, "and her sister Marie looking hardly better."

The information stirred something in (Y/n)'s mind - a half-formed connection she couldn't quite grasp. But then Jimin would appear, beautiful in the gathering darkness, and all other thoughts would fade away.

Their early days together fell into a strange rhythm. Though Jimin never appeared before late afternoon, the house seemed to hold its breath waiting for him. (Y/n) found herself drawn to the library as the sun began its westward descent, knowing he would eventually materialize in the doorway like a figure stepping out of a dream.

On this particular afternoon, autumn rain drummed against the windows, creating a cocoon of grey light and shadow. (Y/n) sat in her usual window seat, a book open but unread in her lap, when she felt rather than heard his approach.

"You're watching for me now," he observed, his voice holding that mixture of amusement and satisfaction that made her cheeks warm. "Do I make such entertaining company?"

"You make interesting company," she corrected, marking how the rain-light seemed to make his skin almost luminous. "Though you never speak of yourself."

He settled beside her with that fluid grace she'd come to expect. "What would you know? My histories are long and dark - hardly suitable conversation for a young lady."

Before she could press further, voices in the entrance hall drew their attention. Through the library's open door came the sound of her father greeting someone - a man's voice, educated but unfamiliar, speaking with urgent authority.

"The deaths in the neighboring village..." the voice was saying. "Most concerning patterns... Similar to cases I've studied..."

(Y/n) felt Jimin tense beside her, though his face remained perfectly composed. Something shifted in the air between them, like the pressure change before a storm.

Their visitor proved to be Father Laurent, a scholar-priest from the nearby monastery. He carried himself with the confident air of a man used to being heard, his dark robes still beaded with rain. But it was the wooden box he carried that drew (Y/n)'s attention - ornately carved with symbols she didn't recognize.

"My dear," her father gestured her forward as she and Jimin entered the drawing room. "Father Laurent has brought something he thinks might interest you. Given your recent... fatigue."

The priest's eyes moved between her and Jimin, something knowing in his gaze that made her uncomfortable. "Yes, indeed. Though I see you have a guest...?"

"Park Jimin," her father supplied. "A temporary addition to our household after an accident on the road."

"Most fortunate," Father Laurent murmured, though his tone suggested he thought it anything but. His attention returned to (Y/n). "My child, I've brought something that might help with your... affliction."

From the wooden box, he withdrew a necklace - a simple leather cord from which hung a small silver charm. The metal caught the grey light strangely, seeming to hold it rather than reflect it.

"An old blessing," the priest explained, moving to place it around her neck. "For protection against... night terrors."

(Y/n) was acutely aware of Jimin's presence behind her, the way the air seemed to crackle with some unnamed tension. As Father Laurent's fingers brushed her neck, securing the charm, she heard the softest intake of breath from Jimin - something between a hiss and a sigh.

"How kind," Jimin's voice was perfectly modulated, yet somehow held an edge she'd never heard before. "Though surely a young lady has no need for such... medieval trinkets?"

In the days following Father Laurent's visit, the charm around (Y/n)'s neck grew to feel like both comfort and burden. Though she often caught Jimin eyeing it with something like distaste, he never mentioned it directly. Instead, his attempts to occupy her attention seemed to grow more focused, more intense.

One particularly languid afternoon, she found herself drawn to the blue room. The door, usually so firmly locked, stood slightly ajar - an invitation she couldn't resist. Inside, Jimin lay across the bed fully dressed, one arm thrown elegantly across his eyes.

"I wondered when you'd come," he said without moving, as if he'd been waiting for her. "The sun is so harsh today. Draw the curtains?"

She did, watching how the heavy blue velvet transformed the room into a twilight world. When she turned back, he had shifted to make space beside him on the counterpane.

"Come," he said softly. "Lie beside me. Like we used to."

The words struck her oddly - they'd never done this before - but she found herself moving forward anyway. It wasn't proper, she knew, to be here without Madame Perrodon's supervision, but Jimin had a way of making improper things seem natural, inevitable.

"Why do you always lock your door?" she found herself asking as she carefully settled beside him, the question that had burned in her mind finally finding voice.

His smile widened slightly, though his arm remained over his eyes. "Do I? Perhaps I sleepwalk. Perhaps I have secrets I must keep." His free hand found hers, fingers intertwining with that unnatural coolness she'd grown used to. "Perhaps I'm afraid of what might come visiting in the night."

"You mock me," she said, though without heat.

"Never." He turned then, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. The dim light caught in his dark eyes, making them appear almost burgundy. "I would never mock your curiosity. It's one of the things I find most..." he paused, seeming to taste the word before speaking it, "...delicious about you."

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine, though not entirely unpleasant ones. They lay in silence for a moment, his cool fingers tracing abstract patterns on her palm.

"Tell me a story," he said finally. "Something from your childhood. A memory you hold dear."

She thought for a moment, and then, "I had the strangest dream once, when I was very young - perhaps six or seven. Though sometimes I wonder if it was a dream at all..."

His hand stilled in hers. "Tell me."

"I woke in the night - or thought I did. There was a figure standing by my bed, the most beautiful being I'd ever seen." As she spoke, the memory became clearer, details she'd forgotten surfacing like bodies in dark water. "They knelt beside me, stroked my hair. I felt... loved. Cherished. But also..."

"Also?" His voice had taken on an odd quality, intense yet somehow distant.

"Afraid. Not of them, exactly, but of how much I wanted them to stay. They spoke to me, though I couldn't understand the words. And then..." She touched her breast unconsciously, just below where the charm now lay. "There was a sensation, like being pierced by ice and fire at once. I screamed..."

"And the servants came running," Jimin said softly. "With candles and concerns. But found nothing amiss, save a very frightened little girl."

(Y/n) sat up slightly, looking at him with surprise. "How did you know?"

His smile was dreamy, distant. "Because I had the same dream at that age, watching over you, caressing you. Strange, isn't it? How some souls are destined to meet, how some moments echo across time until they find their mirror?" His cool fingers brushed her cheek. "Perhaps that's why I feel as though I've known you forever."

The charm at her throat seemed to pulse with sudden warmth, but she found herself leaning into his touch despite it. Something about his words rang both true and false, like a bell with a hidden crack.

"How strange," she murmured, settling back against the pillows. "That we should share such a similar dream."

"Perhaps not strange at all," Jimin replied softly. His fingers had moved to trace the line of her jaw, touch whisper-light but somehow burning cold. "Some meetings are written in the stars, dear one. Some souls call to each other across time itself."

The room had grown darker, though she couldn't remember the sun setting. In this half-light, Jimin's beauty took on an almost painful quality - too perfect to be quite real, like a painting that moved and breathed. His dark eyes seemed to drink in her face with an intensity that should have frightened her.

"You're trembling," he observed, his cool hand sliding down to rest over her heart. "Are you afraid?"

"No," she whispered, though her pulse raced beneath his palm. "I should be, shouldn't I? Everything about this is..." She gestured vaguely at their position, at the impropriety of lying together in the growing dark.

"Everything about this is exactly as it should be." His face was very close now, his sweet, strange scent making her head spin. "You're mine, (Y/n). You've always been mine, since that dream, since before that dream. Can't you feel it?"

The charm at her throat seemed to burn, but she couldn't focus on its warning. Not with Jimin's cool fingers trailing down her neck, not with the weight of his gaze holding her like a butterfly pinned to velvet.

"Mine," he murmured again, the word carrying a weight that made her shiver. His fingers traced patterns on her skin that felt like ancient writing, like secrets too old for human understanding. "My sweet, innocent girl."

The endearment should have felt patronizing, but instead it made her feel precious, cherished. His touch remained gentle, yet there was something possessive in it that stirred feelings she had no names for. The charm at her throat felt like it was burning now, but she couldn't bring herself to move away.

"I don't understand," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What is this? What are we to each other?"

His smile in the darkness was beautiful and terrible. "Everything," he breathed, leaning closer until his lips nearly brushed her ear. "We are everything to each other. Past, present, future - all flowing together like rivers to the sea."

The poetic words made her head spin, or perhaps it was his proximity, the sweet-strange scent of him overwhelming her senses. His cool fingers had found their way into her hair, loosening pins until soft strands fell around her shoulders.

"Beautiful," he murmured, watching the way her hair spilled across the blue silk of the counterpane. "Like night itself made tangible." His thumb brushed her bottom lip, the touch so intimate it made her gasp. "So innocent, so pure. Do you know what you do to me, dear?"

She shook her head, unable to form words. Her whole world had narrowed to his touch, his voice, the way his dark eyes seemed to glow in the gathering shadows. This was improper - beyond improper - but propriety seemed a distant concern, as unreal as the world beyond this room.

"Everything about you calls to me," he continued, his voice taking on that hypnotic quality that made her feel as though she were drowning in honey. "Your innocence, your trust, your..." he pressed his hand against her rapidly beating heart, "...life.

The room had grown darker as they lay together, the heavy blue curtains transforming late afternoon into premature dusk. (Y/n) knew she should leave - everything about this situation defied propriety - yet she found herself sinking deeper into the feather mattress, hyperaware of Jimin's cool presence beside her.

His fingers continued their delicate exploration of her palm, each touch sending little shivers up her arm. The simple contact shouldn't have felt so intimate, yet something about the deliberate way he traced each line made her breath catch.

"Your hands are always so cold," she murmured, watching his pale fingers contrast against her skin.

"And yours so warm," he responded, bringing her wrist to his lips in a gesture that walked the line between courtly and something else entirely. His breath ghosted across her pulse point, making her shiver. "Like you've captured sunlight beneath your skin."

She should pull away. A proper young lady would never allow such liberties. But Jimin had a way of making improper things seem natural, inevitable. When he tugged her closer, she found herself yielding, turning to face him on the blue silk counterpane.

"Sometimes," he said softly, his free hand moving to brush a strand of hair from her face, "I wonder if you know how extraordinary you are." His touch lingered at her temple, traced the curve of her cheek with exquisite slowness. "How rare it is to find someone who sees the world as you do, who understands..."

"Understands what?" she whispered, lost in the darkness of his eyes. The room seemed to be growing dimmer still, shadows gathering in the corners like conspirators.

Instead of answering, he let his fingers trail down her neck, each touch precise and deliberate. The charm at her throat seemed to pulse with warning heat, but she could focus only on the delicious contrast of his cool skin against her flushed warmth.

"Your heart is racing," he observed, his hand settling over the rapid beat. "Are you frightened of me, dear?"

"No," she answered truthfully. She should be - everything about this situation should terrify her. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch like a flower seeking shade. "Though perhaps I should be."

His smile in the gathering dark was both beautiful and strange. "Wise girl." His fingers had found their way into her hair, carefully removing the last of the pins setting loose luscious waves that spilled across the pillows. "Though I prefer your trust to your wisdom."

The impropriety of her loosened hair struck her suddenly - this was something only a lady's maid or husband should see. Yet when Jimin's fingers carded through the strands, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, propriety seemed a distant concern.

"Like silk," he murmured, watching the way her hair caught what little light remained. His touch became more possessive, one hand tangling in the strands while the other traced patterns on her neck that felt like ancient writing. "Everything about you is so..."

He didn't finish the thought. Instead, he shifted closer, until she could feel the strange coolness that always emanated from him along her entire body. His face lowered to her neck, just beside the charm, and she felt rather than heard him inhale deeply.

"Jimin," she breathed, hardly recognizing her own voice. It came out halfway between protest and plea.

"Say it again," he demanded softly, his lips now brushing her throat with each word. "I love how my name sounds on your lips."

"Jimin," she whispered again, the name falling from her lips like a prayer. His mouth pressed against her pulse point in response, a kiss that felt more like worship.

The room spun slowly around them, or perhaps it was just her head spinning. Everything felt dreamlike - the deepening shadows, the cool press of his body against hers, the way his fingers traced arcane patterns down her arms. She was dimly aware that she should maintain some semblance of propriety, but propriety seemed to belong to another world entirely.

His hand at her waist pulled her closer still, grip possessive yet somehow reverent. "Do you know," he murmured against her skin, "how long I've waited for this? For you?"

The words made little sense, yet sent shivers down her spine nonetheless. His lips traveled up her neck with exquisite slowness, each kiss a point of delicious cold that made her gasp. When his teeth grazed her earlobe, she found herself clutching at his shoulders, unsure if she meant to push him away or draw him closer.

"My innocent girl," he breathed, his free hand now trailing down her side, following the curve of her waist. "So responsive to every touch." As if to demonstrate, his fingers splayed across her ribcage, thumb brushing just beneath her breast. Even through layers of clothing, the touch felt scandalously intimate.

She should stop this. Should remember her position, her reputation, all the careful lessons in propriety that Madame Perrodon had instilled. Instead, she found herself arching slightly into his touch, craving more of that wonderful chill.

"That's it," he encouraged softly, his nose trailing along her jaw. "Trust me. Let me..." His hand slipped higher, and she felt rather than heard his satisfaction when she gasped. "Perfect. You're perfect."

The charm at her throat burned in earnest now, but she barely noticed. Not when Jimin's mouth was leaving a trail of frost down her neck, not when his hands were teaching her body sensations she'd never imagined. Everything felt heightened, dreamlike - the silk beneath her, the weight of him beside her, the sweet-strange scent that always surrounded him now filling her lungs like incense.

His touches grew bolder, more demanding. One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to expose more of her throat while the other...

Footsteps in the corridor snapped through their private world like breaking glass. Voices approached - servants doing their evening rounds, discussing dinner preparations with comfortable familiarity.

Reality crashed back with stunning force. (Y/n) jerked away, suddenly aware of her state - hair loose and wild around her shoulders, dress rumpled, lips surely swollen from his attention. What had she been thinking? What had she allowed?

"I should..." she stumbled to her feet, face burning with shame and lingering desire. "I need to..."

"Go," Jimin said softly, still lounging on the bed with casual grace, as if nothing untoward had happened. But his eyes burned in the darkness, and his smile held something that made her shiver anew. "Dream of me."

She fled the room just as the servants' voices passed by, straightening her dress with trembling fingers. Behind her, she heard the distinctive click of his door locking once again.

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔴𝔬

[btsydtrash]

Euphoric Endeavors [20]

vampire bts, poly ot7 x uni student yn

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus’ most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth.

Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger.

It’s too bad that they can’t seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

(angst / smut / yandere / fluff / gore)

Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter  /  word count: 5.06k

(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. But, I decided to post it on here. I have almost 50 chapters of this story up over there, so I’ll slowly be adding them onto here too)

tw: mentions of physical abuse, abandonment issues, allusions to masturbation, anger issues

Waking up the next morning, the last thing you expect to see is a wall of honeyed skin bracketing you in place.

Hoseok’s sleep-slack face is above you. The older man is laying on his stomach, one arm bent so his cheek can rest on it, the other stiff by his side. You notice, idly, that he looks infinitely younger when he’s asleep. There’s no bravado here, just him, resting, relaxed – at peace – and you wish you could see the sight every day, considering how beautiful he is.

Unconsciously, you catalogue his features, burning the slightly pointed tip of his nose in your brain. His high cheekbones and sleep-swollen lips imprint themselves in your head, and you couldn’t forget this sight even if you tried. His lashes are dark and long, and his hair is a mess of curls atop his head, exposing his forehead. He had put a headband in, apparently to keep the strands from his eyes.

Entranced, you reach up, barely touching his skin, to trace from the corner of his eye to his jaw, reverence practically shining in your eyes. He sniffs in his sleep, burrowing deeper into the safety of his arms

“Are you awake now?” A rough voice asks from behind you, making you jump out of your skin. Yoongi is staring at you from where he had been laying, content to just watch you sleep. When you had woken up, you had twisted away from him, making him pout childishly. Now, though, your attention was back on him, his lips quirk up in a private smile as he remarks, playfully, “You look like you had a good night.”

“My head hurts,” you complain, pathetically, wanting to cover your eyes with your hands. You ask, frowning slightly in confusion, “How did I get here? Why am I in bed with you guys?”

You don’t feel even remotely unsafe, but the fact that the last thing you remember is jumping onto Jungkook’s back in the back yard is disconcerting.

“You’re awfully clingy when you get drunk,” Yoongi remarks, light-heartedly. He sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist, and you notice that his shirt is too big, showing off the pale expanse of his collarbone and shoulder. It makes your mouth feel drier than before. “You wouldn’t let Hobi go to sleep on the couch, so he spent the night in bed with you.”

With burning ears, you feel yourself frown. You really ought to stop drinking so much.

Still… something about the set up of the bed makes you snicker.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in bed with us too,” you remark.

He shrugs, expression passive. “It looked comfortable.”

“And, was it?” You enquire, rolling onto your side to glance up at him. “Comfortable, I mean.”

He glances at you, meaning imbued heavily in his gaze, and he nods. “Very.”

Cheeks pinking quickly, you drop your eyes to his shirt and you finger the smooth material, to distract yourself. “Is this Joonie’s shirt?”

He looks down at it, pulling it away from his body, before sleepily nodding. His eyes are puffy, almost half-way closed, but he seems well-rested, still floating contentedly in the vestiges of slumber. He explains, “We always wear each other’s stuff. No big.”

Feeling somewhat envious, you simply nod and move to sit up too. Hoseok’s grip tightens on your waist and he makes a noise of dissent in his sleep, brow instantly furrowing.

“He’s just as clingy as you are,” Yoongi says, a rough chuckle tumbling from his lips. He slides out of bed, scratching his scalp, messing up his already chaotic blond nest and mumbles, “I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to, Yoon,” you reply, cosying up to Hobi. You feel like being lazy and being so close to the dancer’s warmth makes your stomach-ache feel more manageable. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

The blond snorts, giving you an uninterested look that has you shutting up with an audible clack of your jaw. He rests his knee on the bed to press a finger to your nose, mischievously, before he comments, lightly, “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to, sweetheart.”

And then he’s gone, backing out of your space and disappearing to the kitchen to whip up a quick breakfast for you to eat in bed.

Hoseok makes a soft noise in his sleep, like a mix between a sigh and a groan, before he snuggles up closer to you, so your back is flush with his chest, arm tossed over your middle. You relax into his hold, letting the soft puffs of his breath against your ear lull you back under the fuzzy blanket of exhaustion. You feel yourself succumbing to the urge to fall into your own dreams once more…

That is, until you tense up all over when you feel something hard and hot poke in your lower back.

Jerking away from the throbbing heat, you feel your face flood, instantly, in embarrassment. You curse yourself for being so skittish, but you aren’t used to being in such an intimate setting with another body, used to a quick and mostly unsatisfying romp in the sheets, followed by a swift exit and an awkward Uber ride back to your dorm room. This, however, feels intimate.

You think, mind whirring, it’s just the morning, he can’t help it. It’s perfectly natural. You’re the one making it weird. Just get up normally and he’ll let you g-

“Don’t move so much,” Hoseok grumbles, voice thick and rough and so deep with sleep that you feel tingles break out all over your body. His grip only tightens fractionally around your middle and you feel him pull himself closer to you, if that’s even possible. “You’re so warm, sunshine.”

“Mphm, Hobi,” you grumble, struggling to worm your way out of his steel-like grip. For someone who’s half-asleep, he sure likes to hold on tight. You feel bad for the plushies that Joon says he steals off his bed. You say, quickly, trying to avoid rubbing against his arousal, “I need to pee!”

“Liar,” he whispers against the skin of your shoulder, dry lips pressing briefly against your skin, so light that it feels as if he’s kissing you. He still sounds out of it, disorientated even. “You just want to leave me.”

Huffing, you wiggle harder, actively pulling yourself away from him, but he only lets out a growl of disapproval. You say, “When you wake up properly, you’re going to be so embarrassed.”

“Nothin’ to be ‘barrassed about,” he sulks, nosing into your neck, as if burrowing for more warmth. “’s normal for me to hold you like this.”

That’s where you snap, nails gripping into the meat of his forearm and shake him.

“Pressing your hard dick into my back is the antithesis of normal, Hobi,” you snap.

At that, he lets you go as if your body had just spontaneously combusted, nearly throwing himself away from you, a wall of cold air replacing the blanket of warmth that you had just been swaddled in. You barely have time to miss the feeling before you see his face crack into something you could only liken to horror.

“’m sorry!” He stammers, sitting up but covering himself with a pillow, cheeks so ruddy that you are sure that if you touched them, they would be burning with warmth. He mutters, twisting his fingers in the deep green covers, “It’s morning and I- I wasn’t thinking.”

Feeling guilty over his embarrassed appearance, you say, “It’s fine. No harm, no foul.”

He slides out of bed, shivering a little at the cold of the bedroom, before jerking his thumb to the bathroom, awkwardly. He avoids your eyes as he mumbles, “I’ll go, uh, take care of this.”

If you didn’t think your cheeks could burn any hotter, you were wrong.

“Jerk!” You toss the plushie at his head, which he ducks out of and, giggling, disappears into the bathroom.

The shower flicks on in the distance and you drown out the potential sounds of the bathroom by getting out of bed and exploring the house. Your head aches, but there’s two tablets and a bottle of water on the bedside table that you neck down instantly.

“Thanks for the medication, Yoon,” you say, softly, as you walk into the kitchen. The blond had been standing at the sink, his slender back facing you, draped in a mass of material and his narrow waist hidden from your sight, as he chewed listlessly on some of Taehyung’s mango chips.

He offers you the bag with a small smile and the two of you giggle, remembering the time Tae almost killed you in the backseat because you ate them all without asking. Well, Yoongi took most of the blame, but you definitely enjoyed more than your fair share.

“Sit with me while I cook,” he declares, and even though it should sound like a question, you wouldn’t be able to deny him even if you tried.

You hop onto the sideboard and kick your feet as you watch him expertly flit around the kitchen, snapping off the yellow washing up gloves after he had finished hand-washing the mess from last night and moving to the oven. Open flames burst from the hob and within minutes, he has a mass of bubbling hobs on the go, without issue.

“There’s a reason why I’m not allowed in the kitchen by myself,” you joke. “I would have burned myself to high hell already.”

He glances your way, briefly. “You don’t cook at all?”

“I try,” you say, before tossing another mango chip into your mouth. “My Mom says I’m hopeless with anything domestic.”

“That’s okay,” he answers, unbothered. “I’ll teach you. And anything I can’t teach you, I’ll do for you. There – no problem.”

You don’t know why but his words make your stomach feel as if a medley of butterflies had just been released and you can barely hide your smile before you ask, “Can you sew?”

“For that, you’ll have to ask Jiminie,” he says, begrudgingly. “He’s always been the one to adjust our clothes since we were kids.”

You inquire, curiosity piqued – the idea of a mini-Jimin sewing up holes in the knees of Joon’s scruffy jeans, or the split seams of Jin’s shirts when he started growing too big for his clothes, making you coo internally. “Who taught him?”

“My Mom did,” a voice calls from the hallway. Jimin saunters into the room, already dressed, hair still damp and a towel draped around his shoulders. He looks at you, eyes bright with concern. “Are you feeling better? I heard our baby got too drunk last night.”

The nickname doesn’t even give you pause anymore, considering the medley of monikers they’ve given you against your will. Despite the fact that you’re actually older than Taehyung and Jungkook, and therefore the furthest from the baby of the group, you feel warmed by the pet name.

Pouting, you nod. “I feel much better. Yoon made sure I got tablets, and he cuddled me last night. Hobi, too. It was nice.”

“And I missed out on that?” He asks, quirking his brow as he approaches you. He nudges your knees apart in a surprisingly daring act, and wraps his arms around your middle, pressing his nose to your collar. “You smell like hyung.”

“I did sleep in his bed,” you mutter, shyly. Unable to stop yourself, you grab the tail end of the damp towel and sop up the trails of water that have dripped from his hair and lead down the neck of his shirt. You complain, “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“You’ll keep me warm,” he murmurs against your skin. “Sleep with me tonight, won’t you, YN?”

Yoongi snorts from where he’s frying some kimchi pancakes in the small pan. “Now that you’ve started this tradition, I hope you don’t plan on sleeping alone any time soon, YN.”

Jimin huffs at him. “Don’t start, hyung. You got to sleep with her, so did Hobi-hyung. And Joonie got to sleep in her room. I haven’t even been in her room. You guys are being so unfair.”

He’s practically stamping his bare feet on the linoleum before you let out a light giggle at his childish, bratty antics. “Fine, fine. I’ll sleep with you tonight. I hope you don’t mind that I talk in my sleep.”

He looks at you, skin glistening and smelling faintly of aloe and eucalyptus, directly into your eyes, holding your gaze for a beat. “As long as you’re with me, honey, I won’t mind if you do anything.”

////

After breakfast in bed with Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi all piled around you like a pack of baby bears, watching one of Hoseok’s shows on Netflix (“Shut up, Jimin! If I miss any more of this because of your infernal mouth-breathing, I’m going to shave your eyebrows off. Again!”), you find yourself being whisked away by a well-dressed Jin.

“I’ve got a meeting with my father,” he says, once you make a face at his expensive suit and tie, even though it’s definitely Saturday and it isn’t even noon. “Do I meet your expectations, petal?”

You roll your eyes at his smug expression, but you nod, excitedly. “You really do look like an idol.”

“God didn’t give me this face for no reason,” he says, gesturing to his puffy lips with a wink. “Isn’t that Jungkook’s shirt?”

You look down at the button up that you had been handed by a sleepy Taehyung (really, he’d shoved it into your hands before he fell back asleep in your lap, dribbling into the crease of your thigh), and nod, vaguely. “Maybe?”

“It smells like him,” he comments, lips turning down. “I should have given you my shirt. Quick, YN. Get changed into mine.”

“Why?” You ask, laughing at his conspiratorial look. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I just- I want you to smell like me, is all,” he replies, pouting. “You spend so much time with the others… I don’t get to be with you as much.”

You move to deny his statement, but honestly, you can’t. You say, reaching for the sleeve of his blazer, “How about… After your meeting, how about we go for some food together? Just us?”

The way his eyes glitter at your words makes it all worth it. Despite the rolling of your stomach, the brilliance of his smile makes you feel as if you had somehow saved the nation.

“Let’s go, YN,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the apartment. He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole drive to his Dad’s building, holding it over the console, running his thumb along the seam of your index finger, only letting you go to change gears, before swiftly knitting your fingers back together, as if it had always belonged there.

Arriving at his father’s building, you feel significantly out of your depth.

“It’s huge, right?” The tall man says, staring up at the skyrise with barely concealed repugnance in his eyes. “Just being here brings my mood down. Knowing it exists makes me feel sick.”

You let out a soft sigh, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He looks down at you, as if realising you’re still by his side. “I’ll be here for you, you do know that, right?”

He lets out a barely-there smile before setting his jaw. “I’ll be back out in an hour or so. You can sleep in the backseat, if you want.”

“I’m not coming in?”

He looks over at you, surprise raising his brows to nearly his hairline. “You want to meet my father?”

“I mean… I’m not opposed to it,” you mumble, feeling strangely put out. “You don’t want me to meet him?”

His smile dims slightly. “I want a lot of things, petal. I can’t get all of them.”

Then, he’s off, jaw hard and his expression so distant that it makes your heart clench in your chest.

You grab your phone and fire off a text to the only person you can think to ask.

Joonie… Jin and his dad have a bad relationship, right?

He replies within moments. Is he with him now?

He just left for the meeting.

Shit… Okay, after the meeting, he might be a little scary to you, or distant. But he doesn’t mean it, okay? His Dad brings out the worst in him.

Can I ask why?

Jin-hyung is the only one who can tell you that, baby girl.

Okay. Thank you for being honest.

Anything for you.

Deciding to sleep rather than stress out over the occurrences in the room hundreds of meters in the air, you slide off your shoes and curl up, using your coat as a blanket. You don’t think Jin will be back for a while, so with that thought in mind, you end up drifting off, the image of a happier, content Seokjin being the last thing you see.

/

The door slams open and closed with such force, the car shakes, waking you with a start. You look over, eyes still bleary with sleep, to see a murderous-looking Jin, eyes black with rage and his jaw wound so taut, you’re sure it hurts.

“Jin-”

“Not now,” he growls, tone clipped and ice-cold.

The sight and sound of him makes your jaw snap closed, shoulders stiffened with discomfort and, honestly, a small bit of fear. You care for Jin, a lot more than you feel is normal, but this side of him, you aren’t used to.

He glances at you, briefly, before letting out a soft sigh, wincing at the sight of you – withdrawing from him. He reaches across the console, and with a quick squeeze of your hand, he says, quieter, “Please, YN. I don’t want to take it out on you, so just… give me some time, okay?”

You nod. “Okay.”

His eyes plead with you to understand. “Petal…”

“I’m giving you space, Jin,” you say, removing your hand from his and curling it in your lap, the skin burning.

He sighs, returning his hand to the steering wheel and pulling away from the building. Although you are moving away from the cause of his stress, it feels as if the stiffness in the air only grows the longer you are both in the car. Rather than moving towards the dorm, you realise that Jin is driving you in a direction that you’ve never been before.

“What-” You catch yourself before you make another mistake by bothering him, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring, obstinately, out of the front window. You drive and drive and drive, until you start to feel sleepy again. And it’s only when you actually do drift off that he puts the car into park and you hear him shift his body to face you. You glance around – you’re in a fairly empty car park atop a hill, overlooking the Seoul mid-afternoon skyline. You can imagine that it would be awfully beautiful at night.

“Can you look at me, petal?”

You refuse, staring straight ahead.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Please, YN.”

A small part of your anger melts at the way he says your name.

He twists his hands in his lap, nervously, and shifts in his seat. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Then, you shouldn’t have spoken to me like that,” you reply, simply. “I didn’t realise me being here would have put you in such a bad mood. I wouldn’t have come if I knew.”

“Don’t say that,” he implores, weakly. “I always want you around.”

“Sure, you do,” you sass back.

He reaches, limply, for your wrist, and you against your better judgement and bruised ego, you let him take it.

“You’re so precious to me, to all of us. I just-” He lets out a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, holding onto you like a lifeline. “Sometimes, I wish I had never been born.”

This piques your interest, having never experienced this side of him. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, simply choosing to focus on the veins beneath your skin, tracking them obsessively with his eyes. Not in hunger, but as a reminder that you are here, that you are present and with him in the moment.

He continues, “I’ve always been the oldest of our cluster, meaning I had a lot of responsibilities from a young age, like most hyungs do. I did what I had to do, I loved my little brothers and cared for my cluster, following Namjoon’s orders and being the best I can be. But… Why is it never enough, YN?”

You turn to him now, brow puckering as his eyes lose focus and he becomes consumed with his thoughts.

“Why is it never enough for him? Nothing I do, nothing I say. It’s always nothing but shit to him. He looks at me like he wishes I were dead,” he says, and the honesty in his expression blows a hole in your chest. You feel as if he’s ripped your heart out with his bare hands. You knit your fingers with his, shuffling forward slightly so your knees are touching.

“I told you my brother is supposed to be CEO of the company in my father’s stead, right? Well, that’s unlikely to happen, considering he’s busy fucking through half of Europe, blowing our Dad’s money on hookers and expensive blood stimulant drugs. He won’t have to take that responsibility until he’s ready, just because he’s the oldest. But me? I’m forced to go to a university I hate, study a degree I despise for a man I would much rather never see again.”

“Jinnie…”

“He never sees my brother as in the wrong, no matter what he does,” he complains, grip tight on your hand. “But me, if I get anything less than a hundred on a test, or if I miss class because I have to work because I would rather starve than take his fucking money, I won’t hear the end of it for days.”

“He tears me down until there’s nothing left,” he growls. “He makes me so angry, and then I do the same thing that he always does. I get distant. I feel nothing inside, because that’s better than feeling everything and breaking down so pathetically like this.”

“You aren’t pathetic, Jin,” you tell him, pushing some of his dark hair out of his watery eyes. “You’re so strong and so important to me. To all of us.”

He lets out a shaky breath, hands trembling. “Just living in that apartment, knowing that he’ll willingly throw it back in my face, makes me so angry. But I do it. Because the boys need somewhere to live. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let them suffer because of my stupid pride.”

He cards a hand through his hair, forehead damp with sweat. He’s overwhelming himself into a panic.

“I hate him, YN. I hate how he never acknowledges anything that I do. I hate how he always takes my brother’s side,” he says, and when he finally looks at you again, his eyes are laced with pain and you practically feel his soul crying out for you. You grab his hand tighter when he chokes out a sob. “I hate that I keep wanting him to be proud of me.”

“It’s okay, Jin,” you soothe, crawling over and opening your arms for him to wrap himself around you. Patting his back, gently, you rub your hand in small, rhythmic circles, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. “It’s okay to want his approval. He’s your father, this successful mogul, and the person who you have been looking up to for your whole life. You don’t have to feel stupid for wanting him to say he’s proud of you.”

He lets out a broken whine at your words, pulling your hand to his lips as he breathes against the skin. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You pull him in close, pressing dry kisses to his temple and letting him rest his face in the crook of your neck. The angle is awkward because he’s so much bigger than you, but he seems to need it regardless.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re safe.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“We care for you.”

“You’re so strong.”

You keep the one thing you can feel bursting from behind your lips to yourself, too scared to ruin the atmosphere of trust that he had given you. You feel his tears stain your shirt, but you pay it little mind. This is about Seokjin – the one person who you had always looked at as a pillar of strength and playfulness. Little did you know, there was a maelstrom of pain and anguish hidden behind his bright smile.

Once his breathing calms and the tears have dried on his cheeks, you take a good look at him, watery eyes, pink cheeks, red-raw lips from where he’d bitten them to keep the sobs at bay, and you feel your earlier displeasure dissolve into nothingness. How stupid must you have been to have held something so petty over his head when he had needed comforting so much.

“Honey…”

He scoffs, lightly, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve, staring down at his large hands. “You and Jimin are the same, only using that nickname when you feel sorry for me. Or, when you want something.”

“I’ll call you honey all the time from now on,” you promise, reaching for his hand. He looks at where your hands are joined, sniffing a little more, and your heart aches at how much of a pathetic figure he seems, all scrunched up in the corner of his car. “You can talk to me, honey.”

He groans, staring at the roof of the car. “My brother isn’t exactly business-friendly. He’d wreck my Dad’s company in a year, tops, but my father has a very traditional mindset. He thinks because hyung is older, he deserves to run the company, no matter how bad his personality is. Unfortunately, that means I’m the one who has to pick up the slack, as his younger brother.”

He turns your hands over, playing with the ring on his finger, idly. “I didn’t want to do business, you know.”

“I can tell,” you say, softly, stroking his fingers in a gesture of comfort. “What did you want to do?”

He lets out a humourless laugh. “I wanted to act.”

And, honestly. It makes sense. Jin’s personality favours the ostentatious, the bright and the loud, the melodramatics of theatre fit his persona perfectly.

You ask, “Wanted, as in past tense?”

He glances at you. “It’s not like there aren’t supernatural actors. Lee Minho is a selkie.” His eyes widen, slightly, and he murmurs, contritely, “Oh, I shouldn’t have told you that. Well, you won’t tell anyone. I trust you.”

It doesn’t even surprise you anymore, so you simply smile at his admission and continue to draw soft shapes on the back of his hand.

“The first time I saw my father laugh was the day I told him I wanted to act,” he says, resentfully. “He said that there was no way someone as uninteresting as me could entertain anyone. He said that I should only focus on what I was good at – studies – and that I should throw my stupid dreams of acting out of my mind before he beat some sense into me.”

You decide, instantly, that you hated his Dad more than you’ve hated anyone else in your life.

Cautiously, you ask, brow puckering, “He didn’t ever… you know, hit you, did he?”

“Sometimes,” Jin replies. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it. I was a flighty kid, even more than I am now, so… Yeah.”

“Nobody deserves to get hit, Jin,” you tell him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m really… I’m just sorry this happened to you.”

He smiles, softly, and wipes his thumb across your cheek, catching a stray tear and flicking it away. “Don’t cry for me, YN. I’m made of tougher stuff.”

“I’m not,” you grumble, holding his hand a little tighter. “I’m upset for you.”

He chuckles, wetly, at your scowl, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss there. “You’re so cute.”

His smile slowly disappears as he stares out at the city in front of the two of you, hands intertwined over the console in the car, before he sits up a little straighter. “Once I graduate, I’m leaving.”

The bottom of your stomach falls out at his words, instantly, at his words.

Drawing away, slightly, you ask, “W-What do you mean ‘leaving’?”

“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” he admits, quietly. “I’ve already talked to Joonie about it, and he’s willing to let me go.”

“Seokjin.”

He looks over at you, surprised by the hard tone of your voice, and his eyes widen even more at the sight of the tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong, petal?”

“You can’t leave us,” you tell him, gripping his sleeve, as if he’s getting ready to go away now. “W-What are we supposed to do?”

“I’m not leaving forever, petal,” he says, softly, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ear. “Just a year or so. To find myself, you know? It’ll be good for me.”

You still can’t make sense of the agony rushing through your system. The idea of not seeing Jin, of not hearing his loud laugh or seeing the mop of dark hair poking out of the burrito of blankets in the living room at 3am when both of you can’t sleep. Or, holding his hand in the dark under those same sheets and feeling his slow heartbeat pulse against your ear, lulling you to sleep.

You can’t say anything, not wanting to guilt him for wanting to explore, but also being unable to force yourself to support him either.

You simply can’t imagine him being absent from your life, it just doesn’t make sense.

- end -

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19), (20)

[chimcess]

— The Lost Boys: the masterlist

"Teenage brothers Jungkook and Jung-Hyun relocate with their mother to a quiet town in Northern California. As Jung-Hyun bonds with two like-minded comic book enthusiasts, Namjoon and Seokjin, the more brooding Jungkook becomes captivated by Y/N. However, he soon discovers that Y/N is entangled with Jimin, the charismatic leader of a dangerous local vampire gang."

Status: Complete

01: Welcome to Santa Carla 02: Never Grow Old, Never Die... 03: The One Thing About Living in Santa Carla

[spookyserenades]

Sanctity - Chapter One

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 22.8k

Sanctity Masterlist

Sanctity Playlist

TO JOIN THE TAGLIST PLEASE CLICK HERE!

Ko-fi 💜

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

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

Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was your task today, Joey?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is no way to know–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was your breakfast, Miss?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Negatively, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How old…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Edmund?”

“Yes, child?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-wha–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Blood?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which documents are those?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elaborate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come here, little girl.

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

Sit. 

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

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

Sit down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are going to be calm while I do this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay still, little girl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get up. 

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

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

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

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

[hamburgerndsprite]

Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 5

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

[Masterlist]

[OT7]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Nothing New by myg-butterfly

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

{SERIES}

➺ The List by inthelow [ONGOING]

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

➺ Peculiar Pack by daydreamindollie [ONGOING]

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

➺ War of Hearts by namjooningelsewhere [ONGOING]

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

➺ Chantaje by numinousher

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

➺ The Little Fox by purpleyoonn

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

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ On With The Show by Joheunsaram

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

➺ Breaking The Ice by raplinesmoon

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

➺ Emotions of the Soul by oddinary4bts

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

{SERIES}

➺ To be loved by taevbears

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

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Forever by oddinary4bts

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

➺ Very Familiar by Champagneher

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

➺ Already Mine by i-am-baechu

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

➺ Fools by namfinessed

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

➺ In you, I lay by namfinessed

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

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Roll & Dice {M} by lostberet

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

➺ Dad!Yoongi Scenario by sevenforeverbulletproof-deactiv

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

➺ fxck a fxckboy [M] by yoongifis

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

➺ What's Up, Doc? by untaemedqueen

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

{SERIES}

➺ Desolate by angelicyoongie

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x  reader — genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut — parts: 14/14 — summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

➺ bbydaddy!yoongi by muniimyg

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

➺ Enigma by neonlights92

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

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Coffee [M] by untaemedqueen

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

➺ Step Back by Champagneher

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

➺ Defining Heaven by akinnie75

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

{SERIES}

➺ Charred by neonlights92

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

➺ Where Do Broken Hearts Go? by back2bluesidex

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

➺ College social media Au by notevenagoodgirl

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

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Important Ass-et [M] by lavienjin

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

➺ Flirt Buddies by jimilter

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

➺ Call and Response by youtifulhobi

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

➺ The Trials and Tribulations of a Mcflurry by btsmosphere

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

➺ Brand New Eyes [M] by missgeniality

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

➺ Snow Don't Tell by stutterfly

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

➺ In this light by jiminrings

pairing: jimin x reader wordcount: 2k genre: married + established relationship au, jimin's a NICU nurse and reader's a pediatrician, fluff n comfort all-rounder, they're expecting first-time parents <3 glimpse: love, within normalcy. alternatively, jimin has a routine at 5:35 in the afternoon.

➺ Flowers by taleasnewastime

pairing: Jimin x reader genre: fluff word count: 354 synopsis: “I’ll bring you flowers in the pouring rain if it makes you happy.”

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Marshmallows and Report Cards [M] by untaemedqueen

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

➺ Seventeenth Century Girls by untaemedqueen

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

➺ Get You The Moon [M] by bymoonchild

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

{SERIES}

➺ Monster by neonlights92

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

[JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Peregrination by untaemedqueen

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

➺ The Second by untaemedqueen

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

➺ Interruption [M] by untaemedqueen

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

➺ Requested Drabble by minniepetals

Genre: Neighbor au Synopsis: "Why are you in your underwear?"

➺ Drabble by onlyswan

summary: in which jungkook doesn’t understand you sometimes. > fluff, suggestive / wc: 2.8k > warnings: making out, oc likes calling him baby boy okayyyy

{SERIES}

➺ bbydaddy!jk by muniimyg

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

➺ Angel in the Darkness [M] by icyhobi

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

➺ Brown-eyed Baby by jeonstudios

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

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 03 - Cum]

Pairing: Rough Dom!Yoongi x Needy sub!Taehyung

Genre: Vampire!Yoongi, Vampire!Taehyung, Magic!AU

Kinks: accidental consumption of a lust potion which has very fateful consequences, monster fucker smut, anything and everything cum, cum eating, using cum as lube, multiple creampies, cum being everywhere, blowjob, deep-throating, rough face fucking, unnaturally long tongues, spit, hair pulling, sloppy rimjob, rough spontaneous anal sex against the bathroom sink, choking with the monster tongue around Tae’s neck :), biting, mirror sex in a sense, dirty talk, praise, subby boy tears, multiple orgasms, gentle and nurturing aftercare

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: this was requested by me :) listen. i was ovulating as i wrote this. this is not at all canon JFASDJF but what if it was?? what if they were actually alone one day and did that?? what if they agree to never ever fucking mention it again?? no but in reality, this is definitely not canon, i just wanted to make them fuck violently :) and what better opportunity for that than kinktober aka the most unhinged time on this blog where everything is allowed?

Yoongi thought that he will surprise you by cleaning your wing. He has already managed to go through your living room and the hallways and is now busy in your magic kitchen. 

Yoongi really wanted to be helpful, nothing else. So when he drops one of your potions accidentally and inhales its fumes, he knows that he fucked up. A lust potion. One which is meant to be consumed carefully because getting too much of it in one’s system bears uncontrollable consequences. You made it with the help of one of Taehyung’s many sex magic books and were planning to use it in future sessions with your lovers. One drop of it, to be more exact. One fucking drop is enough. It is so strong in fact that not even Yoongi, the strongest of the supernatural creatures, is immune to it. And he fucking inhaled the entire bottle of it.

Yoongi groans and throws his hand over his nose, but too late, the magic is doing its job. His eyes are hazy, his vision blurry, his head dizzy. He tries to flee, but every step he takes aches. Sex. Sex. Cum. Sex. Cum. His thoughts are reduced to two words. His cock is so hard, his balls suddenly so heavy that his pants hurts. He rips the clothes, leaving a trail of wet desperation as he claws his way out of your kitchen. He stumbles from side to side as he tries to leave your wing, gasping for fresh air in hopes of clearing his lungs.

He needs help. His ears are ringing. It is as if he was high on five different drugs. And every drug wants him to fuck. Fuck. He needs sex. He needs to fuck.

Your bedroom. Your scents just make it worse. Yoongi moans and groans as he drags himself to the bathroom. You aren’t home right now. As a matter of fact, nobody is home because you all went on a trip to the coast.

Yoongi is all alone. And he needs help. Otherwise he might rip this whole room to shreds.

Maybe a shower will help. He tears the shirt off his body and collapses into the shower, turning on the freezing water with his last remaining clarity. The water hurts on his skin, Yoongi is panting as he takes it, forehead resting against the cold tiles while his heavy cock leaks on the floor. It doesn’t help. His cock stays hard, his bloodstream is drugged up. Yoongi blacks out. 

The next moments are unable to be put onto paper because Yoongi has no recollection of them and this author must use this moment to apologise. A lie had been spread. There was one other person home during the time Yoongi accidentally drugged himself. Taehyung.

Taehyung was clear in the head and planned on going for a stroll in the forest to move his stiffened body after a very captivating painting session. Taehyung was very close to leaving the estate when his ears picked up on very worrying sounds. Yoongi whimpering in pain. Such noises, Taehyung has never heard from him before.

“Hyung”, he gasps and runs off to your wing. He considers calling you first, but then is too busy being worried. And his phone was upstairs. Too much time would have been wasted.

He breaks through your door, calling out Yoongi’s name.

He doesn’t answer him, but the tortured noises remain. They come from your bedroom. Did he fall and hurt himself? Perhaps he fell on a stake and now struggles to get it out. 

Taehyung takes off his shoes by the door, because he still had manners, and hurries to the bedroom. It is empty. The bathroom door is open. The noises come from it.

“Hyung! What’s the matter?” He hurries to it. “What happ-” 

Taehyung quite frankly loses the abilities to properly function. The view before him is way too unbelievable. 

Yoongi is in front of the sink mirror, body wet from the shower and completely naked. He is covered in his own cum, as is the sink and the counter. Puddles of it had formed on the floor as well. His eyes spill tears. His huge hand is around his completely grown vampire cock and to top it all off, it is very obvious that he had his own fingers in his ass before Taehyung crashed into the room.

“Leave!” Yoongi screams. His voice is distorted in agony, bouncing off the walls.

“I, I”, Taehyung stutters, pressing his hand to his own crotch to hide the instant boner the view and scents give him. He is scared for his life. He knows how much Yoongi values privacy and this is beyond an invasion of it. “I am so sorry. I believed that you hurt yourself I, shit, I’m leaving already.”

“Wait, no.”

Taehyung turns, gulps.

Yoongi is staring at him with glassy helpless eyes. His hand is moving around his cock as if he had no control over it. Taehyung feels dizzy. He is watching his very private friend jerk off as if it was normal to do.

“I can’t stop cumming”, Yoongi gets out and tenses up as another orgasm shakes him, “help me please”, he whimpers, eyes crossing and cock squirting white cream on the tiles behind the sink.

“Are you out of your mind? What do you mean?!” Taehyung exclaims, feeling as if he was going crazy. Is he in the wrong movie? Yoongi is currently orgasming mere five feet from him and begging him for help. 

“Argh!” Yoongi gets out, convulsing in the aftershocks with wobbly legs. He hits the sink, gritting his exposed fangs. He is panting and growling, trying to get the words out like this. “I poisoned myself. Argh. One of her lust potions from your stupid fucking sex books.”

“Why would you do this to yourself? Oh heavens.”

“Cause I get off to it. No you motherfucker, it was an accident. Urgh fuck please not again”, he growled at first but then whimpers as he releases into the sink another time. He grabs the edge of the counter, opening his mouth so widely that Taehyung can watch the acid drip from his fangs. Dizzy, he looks at his cock next. The cum Yoongi spills is thick and aggressively white, spilling out of him in huge globs and sticking to the furniture in slimy strings.

“Why is it so thick? It is as if you are ejaculating slime, hyung” Taehyung gasps, knowing that Yoongi won’t be able to answer him.

“Are you going to help me or not, you bastard?” Yoongi spits to his surprise.

“I, I mean if you are asking me to”, Taehyung stutters and closes the distance. He falls to his knees before Yoongi, moaning when his legs get soaked in the puddles of cum.

“What-”

Yoongi never gets to finish his sentence. Yoongi instead gets his cock buried deep in Taehyung’s throat as the younger vampire sucks eagerly.

Yoongi screams up, throwing his head back and gripping Taehyung’s dark locks. He stumbles, almost falling to his knees if Taehyung hadn’t grabbed his buttocks with such vigour. He begins bopping his head up and down on his huge cock, gurgling happily from the heavy girth in his throat.

Yoongi climaxes instantly, screaming Taehyung’s name and twisting his hair. Not that the mention of this orgasm is important. On the contrary, it is rather useless, because Yoongi feels just as horny afterwards than he did before. Maybe with his balls a little lighter, but his head is still incredibly drugged. 

Taehyung swallows every single glob of Yoongi’s thick cum. It drags itself down his throat, covering every inch of his insides and coating his stomach. It warms him, making him crave more. Taehyung slips off and concentrates his sucks on Yoongi’s engorged tip. He slurps hungrily, swirling his tongue as quickly as possible. His veins are swollen, throbbing under his tongue.

“You’re fucking insane. Fuck, ah”, Yoongi growls, staring down at Taehyung. “Look at me.” 

Taehyung obeys, eyes so very submissive as he looks up at Yoongi. 

“Lilac is your safeword. Think it and I’ll stop.” 

“Yes…Master.” 

“Fuck, shut the fuck up”, Yoongi spits and forces his mouth onto his cock. 

Taehyung mewls and gurgles, tilting his head back as Yoongi fills his throat out. 

“Are you okay?”

Taehyung nods his head, showing Yoongi that he wasn’t made of glass by moving his hips for him. Tears leave his eyes, but he doesn’t gag. He simply moans and clenches his throat around his heavy length.

“You crazy fucking bastard”, Yoongi moans and picks up a punishing speed instantly, drilling Taehyung’s pretty face as if he hated it. “Take it. Fucking take it.” 

But he doesn’t hate his face. He sees salvation in his ethereal features. It feels so good to fuck it. His hand could have never felt this way. Taehyung’s lips move and stretch around his girth, his throat bulges to make space.

“Shit, you’re looking so good with cock in your mouth. I hope you get your pretty face fucked regularly. Mhm? Do they fuck your dripping mouth hole regularly?” Yoongi is talking complete shit, tongue loose in an intense drug trip. 

And Taehyung loves. He loves it so much that he wets his pants in excitement and feels his eyes cross a little. He moans around Yoongi’s cock, tilting his head back further in a willingness to completely become his’. 

“Yeah you know you look good, don’t you. Urgh! Urgh, fuck argh it’s not helping-ah!’ Yoongi growls and orgasms again, throwing his head back as he fucks his cum deep down Taehyung’s throat. 

Taehyung expected it, but still ends up having to gag from it. It is so much, he can barely keep up with swallowing, being forced to his luck as Yoongi makes sure the only thing he’ll have in his stomach today was his cream. Taehyung’s cries, scratching down Yoongi’s thighs in desperate search for support. It draws blood but heals instantly. 

“I’m sorry Tae, I’m sorry”, Yoongi whimpers as his cock squirts cum against his will. 

Taehyung mewls and shakes his head, dragging his big hands up the back of Yoongi’s legs until he reaches his hips. His hugs them, pressing his face into his pubes while his mouth still carries his heavy cock.

He can take more. Yoongi’s cum is so sweet, although much, it is so sweet. Taehyung feels droopier by the second, craving more of it like an addict having a relapse.

“Tae ah!” Yoongi slows down after his high but only because he is too weakened from it. He uses Taehyung’s head to support himself on it, hips shaking as Taehyung sucks on his cock loudly. “I can’t stop, it’s so painful”, he gets out, almost sobbing the words. 

Taehyung puts distance between their bodies, mouth leaking cum as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi answers him, eyes taking in the view hungrily. Taehyung’s lips are so puffy and pink. His face is so messy in sticky cum. It somehow managed to get in his hair as well. 

Taehyung sticks two of his fingers into his own mouth, coating them in the cum he still has sticking to his gums. Once they are slick in it, he exchanges them for Yoongi’s cock, guiding them to Yoongi’s ass. He applies pressure, slipping them into his tight hole. He instantly finds his prostate, rubbing it vigorously as he begins moving his throat on Yoongi’s cock.

Yoongi bends his own body into unnatural positions, writhing standing up and screaming silently. He is submerged in painful fire and Taehyung just made it worse. Or better. He can’t decide. He cums again, spilling down Taehyung’s throat to the point his stomach is starting to get a little bloated from all the cum he has to keep inside. 

Taehyung takes it gladly, dimpling Yoongi’s hip with his other hand while he fingers his hole quickly. He is going crazy. Yoongi is so soft inside. So tight. And warm. Holy fuck, he is fingering his hole. Not even in his nastiest dreams would Taehyung have dared to imagine such a thing and yet here he is. He curls his fingers deeper, listening to Yoongi’s desperate noises.

“Again, argh!”

It feels too good. This is so good. This is the sex the poison craves. The skilled touch of another. Yoongi swears he fucking kisses the very creator of the univesre herself as he climaxes in Taehyung’s mouth. Both hands are gripping his head while his hips pound into him in search of sweet relief.

And then something happens. Relief. There is actual relief after the high. 

“Stop it, stop”, Yoongi croaks, pulling him off his cock with little effort. Taehyung slips out of his ass, gazing up at him. His nose is snotty and burns because Yoongi came so hard the last time that it went out through his nose. His eyes are crying. His stomach feels like bursting.

Yoongi touches him. It is gentle and nurturing. Taehyung feels taken aback by it, but melts into it nonetheless.

“You’re actually fucking mad.” 

Taehyung tries to answer him but has to come to the conclusion that Yoongi fucked his vocal chords raw. Thankfully he is a quick healer.

Yoongi pulls Taehyung to his feet, forehead falling against his’ and dirty hands cradling his equally as dirty face. Taehyung melts into the affection with closed eyes, breathing heavily.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Yoongi whispers, voice deep and raspy.

“You wanted my help”, Taehyung whispers as well, voice just as deep and raspy. 

“Yes, as in getting an antidote, not throat fucking my cock and fingering my ass.”

“This was the antidote, hyung. I’m your antidote.”

Yoongi bares his fangs, fighting against his instincts of dragging his long tongue up Taehyung’s face. Taehyung watches it, head pounding from the high he currently finds himself on. Who knew that enchanted Creator cum is so intoxicating. He hasn’t felt that high ever since the last blood orgie he had years ago. Taehyung is currently floating on cloud nine.

Yoongi suddenly groans and scrunches his face, touching roughening on Taehyung. 

“Not done?”

“No, urgh fuck. Fuck Tae, leave. I can’t promise your safety anymore.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Tae, I’m dangerous.”

“I know, I tasted it. It’s still in my stomach, feel it.” He presses Yoongi’s hand to his stomach, making him feel the sticky liquid move around. “I’m so bloated with your cum, hyung. I feel fucking high.” 

“Urgh Tae”, Yoongi growls, squeezing his head painfully. “Tae leave.”

Taehyung however shakes him off and pushes at his chest, giving himself enough space to rip off his ruined clothes. Yoongi moans at the view, blackened eyes staring at his exposed cock. It is huge and throbbing, leaking cum as if he was enchanted himself.

“I can’t leave like this. I can take it, hyung. I’m not as fragile as you all think me to be”, Taehyung says and turns around. He bends over the sink, reaching behind himself to spread open his ass and therefore reveal his willing hole to Yoongi.

Yoongi swears the view almost brings him to his knees so he could bury his tongue into the deepest depths of Taehyung’s insides. He fights the voices, twisting his own hair for it.

“No. No, I’ll hurt you.”

“I will heal. I can take it.”

“Taehyung, just leave.”

“Please hyung, you don’t have to be scared of yourself. We’re both monsters.” 

Yoongi meets Taehyung's exposed face in the reflection. They are both monsters. Taehyung is okay with it. 

He can’t hold back anymore. He growls and drops to his knees. He can’t take Taehyung unprepared. He is poisoned and not clear in the head, but his refusal to be a source of pain to his friend is stronger than any drug. He promised him to never cause him agony again and means it. He will still fuck his ass, don’t be mistaken, first he simply needs to give in to the voices in his head and stick his tongue into Taehyung’s hole. 

Because he is drooling like an animal, it is an easy task to fill him. He wastes no time holding back. He is a monster and Taehyung is the very last person who would want him to hide parts of himself. Yoongi knows how he treats Jungkook, how he gets off to his Ripper nature. He feels confident in letting himself go as well. He doesn’t even let go to such length when he is with you, mostly because your pussy has limits when it comes to depth. There are no limits to the depths of Taehyung’s ass and so Yoongi buries his long, slimy tongue deep inside his walls, moving it like a wiggling tentacle.

Taehyung, who up until now has never experienced such a sensation before, reacts accordingly. He screams, which he never does when he gets fucked. He writhes in fleeing, but has to realise that this only makes Yoongi’s tongue grow more to make up for the space created. Taehyung, who is greedy for a stuffing, moves back again, taking the new girthy inches. He still continues to scream, shaking out of control.

Yoongi growls, finding his satisfaction in the deepest creases of Taehyung’s tight insides. There is nothing better than filling out something so tight. It is so useless for vampires. Its once human purpose long gone. Yoongi is going to give it a new purpose today. He is going to reach parts no other person has ever reached before.

“Hyung please, ple-please”, Taehyung begs in fear, reaching for Yoongi’s hair. The latter simply growls and punishes him with a hard thrust of his tongue, fingers gripping his hand to instead press it to his own stomach. He picks up an angry pace with his tongue, forcing Taehyung to feel how his stomach gets filled with it.

Taehyung’s eyes cross and stay like this, his fangs grow, his own tongue drips drool. He can’t scream anymore. He can only squeak and try to breathe. He is no stranger to feeling his belly bulge, but this is something different. Something so carnal and sinful that even Taehyung feels as if he did something forbidden. But he is a sinner and sinners get off to the forbidden. Something about Yoongi’s saliva makes every inch it touches aware that it was being touched. Taehyung has never felt penetration so deep inside his guts before. It was also never that wet before, that wriggly and fast.

“You are making me climax”, Taehyung sobs, hoping that Yoongi would pull out and edge him. But there is no hope left for him. Yoongi makes him climax so deep inside that Taehyung actually sees black for a while. He screams his throat raw then begins begging to please be released of it. Yoongi growls and grants him the wish, pulling his tongue out. Taehyung cries, legs shaking and body convulsing. He feels every inch, feels how his wriggly thick tongue slips out of him. It is so quick and rough and never ending. By the very end of it, once his tip slips out, Taehyung actually collapses onto the sink in relief, standing on his tiptoes and flinching repeatedly as his gaped hole leaks Yoongi’s thick saliva. He can’t think straight. Taehyung has never felt this way before. His insides have never been cleaned so far up. He should want no more, but he does. Yoongi’s saliva is poisoning him in the most sinful of ways. He wants to be filled again.

Yoongi stands up, dragging his long tongue up Taehyung’s sweaty spine. He wraps it around his neck, using it to tug him up. Taehyung gurgles and sobs, burning eyes staring at their reflection. Yoongi’s true face is staring back at him, his red tongue is wrapped around Taehyung’s neck multiple times. Something in his eyes however is being kind to him, asking him if he could continue. Taehyung sobs miserably and reaches behind himself with trembling hands so he could align Yoongi’s cock with his hole. Yoongi growls, tongue tightening around his neck and eyes darkening. He takes his consent, finally sinking his huge cock into his hole. The face Taehyung pulls and the noise he makes is what Yoongi wanted. No pain, just relief. That is why he cursed him with his saliva, this face right here and now is the very reason for it.

He chases his depth instantly, turning Taehyung’s deep yelps to high pitched squeals. Yoongi answers him in animalistic growls and his huge hands bruising his trembling hips as he pulls him back onto his cock over and over and fucking over again. 

Taehyung tries to somehow make sense of it. He is on his tiptoes, standing only because Yoongi makes him. His nails hurt from clawing at the counter. His lower stomach aches too from getting it pounded into said counter over and over again. He drools and cries, unable to stop either of those reactions. 

Yoongi growls behind him and then Taehyung feels his cum shoot up his inside. It almost hurts in a way, forcing him to cramp up and bend forward with an agonised groan. 

Yoongi however pulls him back up, forcing him to make eye contact with his whorish reflection. 

“A-ah”, Taehyung lets out, convulsing on his cock. First his stomach is being filled to its bursting point and now his intestines are getting the same treatment. Taehyung swears he might actually leave this room feeling fucking impregnanted. 

“Are you doing okay?” Taehyung suddenly hears Yoongi’s voice in his head. His demonic mouth is unmoving, his tongue is still around his neck. Yoongi is actually using his compulsion to talk to Taehyung telepathically. His hips are fucking into him, moving as if he never orgasmed before. The cum makes it easier and a lot noisier.

Taehyung can only think his answer as well.

“It feels so good. It feels so good. It feels so good.” 

“That’s good. You’re taking me so well. Fuck, you’re such a good boy.” 

“You’re praising me?! Master please don’t stop, please, I’m so filled up. I love praise so much. Please Master, breed me till I carry your babies.” 

“You’ve got the sweetest thoughts, Tae. It’s a shame, they’re not mine constantly. Bet you’d be so fun to command around.” Yoongi taunts, giving him deep harsh thrusts. The kind which squirts cum out of his ass everywhere and which makes Taehyung go more and more cross eyed. “I’d make you do the sweetest tasks then. Make you take me like a good boy, tell you how to fucking moan for me.”

Did Jungkook talk to Yoongi? Did he tell him that Taehyung has a fetish for being controlled? Or is he that obvious that Yoongi picked up on it? No matter the answer, it makes Taehyung orgasm. Again. This orgasm feels familiar because it is done by a thick cock in his asshole, but it doesn’t feel any less magnificent because of that. On the contrary, Yoongi’s salvia made him so sensitive inside that Taehyung loses any kind of strength in his body, dropping like a limp doll. 

Yoongi lifts him and flips him in his arms. His tongue is inside his mouth again, having left purple marks all over Taehyung’s neck. Speaking of Taehyung. He is currently slacking and tangling in Yoongi’s strong arms, being held up under his bent legs as Yoongi bounces his body on his cock. His head is on his shoulder, his arms barely have strength to hug him.

“Breathe, I’m almost done, breathe”, Yoongi speaks, sounding clearer than before. 

Taehyung still can’t speak, thinking his words.

“I’m bursting please Master it hurts.”

“Hurts? Lilac?”

Taehyung shakes his head, twisting Yoongi’s hair. 

“I don’t want it to stop. I need more, please.” 

“I can provide, don’t you worry”, Yoongi assures him as he easily uses his body as a fleshlight. 

And Taehyung is in paradise. He is the second strongest in this coven. At least physical wise. He is always the second strongest and it will always stay this way even if he pretends to be weaker than others. Not anymore, not with Yoongi. He is finally, fucking finally, weaker than someone else. Yoongi never shows how much stronger he is than the rest of you, so Taehyung has almost forgotten how  superior in strength he actually is. He gets reminded with each bounce of his body, each stretch of his cock as he drills it deep inside his gaped hole. Yoongi is so strong and Taehyung is his limp sexdoll.

This is everything he ever wished for.

“Master, I have to cum.”

“I know Tae, I know. Me too. Just be patient, Master’s almost done”, Yoongi tells him, dropping Taehyung on his cock to the point his hole takes his balls as well. 

Taehyung sobs, squirming in his arms.

“I know, you’re so stuffed. You gotta feel it Tae, feel how I unload the last time.”

“Hyung, I’m cumming.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

Taehyung squeaks, lifting his head in shock. He lost control over his body. He wants to climax but can’t. Yoongi meets his scared eyes, cocking his brow up tauntingly.

“You think she is the only one who can control your orgasm? I’m the fucking master of control if only I wanted to.” 

Taehyung opens his mouth, making noises. They are unable to be described, but they both know that they are the most carnal noises he could ever make.

“Mhm, so pretty. Fuck, you’re making me cum”, Yoongi lulls. He broadens his stance and throws his head back, moaning loudly. This is going to be the last one. He finally feels it. This one is going to be explosive and messy, but it's going to be the last one. 

Taehyung takes it screaming, shaking in his arms in a desperate attempt to fight the compulsion. But he can’t. He is destined to have his intestines filled and feel Yoongi’s huge balls throb inside his hole. 

Taehyung buries his fangs in Yoongi’s shoulder not for blood but for help. He couldn’t possibly handle it any other way. He is so filled up with cum that he is scared to walk afterwards. He won’t be able to stroll through the forest that much is sure. He will have to lie on his side and hope that his body can digest it as quickly as possible.

“There we gooooo fuuuuuck”, Yoongi comes down with a guttural moan. 

“Please”, Taehyung sobs in a squeak.

Yoongi smirks, biting down on his lower lip sensually as his eyes race over his ruined features. 

“Please, I can’t do this anymore please.”

“Cum for me, doll.”

The compulsion drops, forcing Taehyung’s orgasm to hit him with such force he sees black again. Pleasure so ancient it feels as if god herself was making him climax fills him. He rips his mouth open, body falling back. Yoongi doesn’t struggle with holding it, neither with bouncing it on his cock for Taehyung’s pleasure.

“Shit your face….holy fuck those noises….you’re driving me insane. Keep squeezing my cock and balls, Tae. Good doll, good fucking doll”, Yoongi talks him through it, skin tingling where Taehyung releases on it.

“Li….lac”, Taehyung chokes out once the overstimulation hits. He never thought that he could be brought to the point of having to use his safeword, but Yoongi quite truly fucked him to the point of exhaustion. Taehyung has never felt that cured of The Horny before. Normally sex always leaves him craving more, but not right now. He needs off now.

“Good boy” Yoongi finishes instantly, lifting Taehyung off his cock. “Fuck, urgh fuck, finally. My balls were in agony in your tight hole. Take deep breaths, Tae. You did so well.” 

He stumbles weakly, sitting Taehyung on the counter and falling into his body in a hug. Taehyung cries quietly on Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling high and happy but also like a dirty disgusting slut. 

Now that the spell stopped, how will Yoongi react? They have never done such things before, they swore that they never would. Will he be angry at him now that he is clear headed? Will he send him away after making him feel shitty for what they did? 

“Are you okay?” 

Taehyung shakes and nods his head at the same time.

“Are you in pain? Do you need to throw up? I filled you with so much, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m okay”, he croaks.

“But?” 

“Please don’t be angry please.” 

“I’m not angry, just…I guess I’m embarrassed too.” 

Taehyung lifts his head, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. Well, as best as Yoongi allows him to now that he was clear headed and shy.

“What we just did. I never would have done this with you if I wasn’t enchanted. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be please. Not with me. I am the last person who would ever judge you for wanting sex.”

“That wasn’t sex. That was fucking rutting.”

They chuckle, ridding themselves of the worst embarrassment this way. 

“And it felt good. So good. Hyung, I’ve been on this earth almost nine centuries now and neve experienced such stimulation before.”

Yoongi smirks lopsidedly, reaching up to cradle Taehyung’s cheeks. He caresses his skin with his thumbs. 

“I guess being the strongest has to come with some surprises too. Did you like it mhm? You took my tongue like a fucking champ.” 

“Hyung I-”, Taehyung suddenly feels very vulnerable, burying his face in his own hands as he sobs.

“What’s the matter? Did you not like it?”

“I loved it so much, but I’m so shaken up. I do not know.”

Yoongi understands his feelings very well. He gets like this too sometimes when he submits. He gets embarrassed about how good he felt and then feels like crying. 

“Hey there, Tae. You’ve got no reason to feel embarrassed”, Yoongi speaks softly, picking him up in his arms to cradle him soothingly. Taehyung leaks onto the floor like this, writhing in embarrassment. “Relax doll, relax.”

Taehyung whimpers, growing limp in comfort. Yoongi carries him to the bathtub and turns the warm water on.

“How do you know me so well?” Taehyung asks in a ruined yet happy lull.

“I’ve been your friend for more than five hundred years now, Tae. You get drunk sometimes and tell me stuff.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you can’t remember the next day, but I know a great deal about you actually.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah, I do. I know you like being controlled and to be dollified. I also know that it’s trauma which has manifested this way, but that you don’t think about these moments when you have sex this way. You’re an open book when you drink magic wine, Tae”, Yoongi sinks their bodies into warm bathwater. 

Taehyung gasps, squirming on Yoongi’s lap. 

“Sssh relax. Let me take care of you”, Yoongi soothes him in a gentle voice and with nurturing touches all over his body.

Taehyung melts, limps refusing to work as he sits on Yoongi’s safe lap and lets him clean him. 

“There we go. Relax, little doll, relax. It’ll make the cum bloat easier to bear too. Are you okay? Is it very painful?” 

“No, just feels like I ate too much.”

“You definitely did. Fuck, sorry for this. That’s what I get for trying to be helpful. She is going to kill me if she finds out I dropped it.” 

“She will ask what happened.”

“What are we gonna tell her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about this.” 

“Alright. Let’s just relax for now.” Yoongi cradles the back of Taehyung’s head and tilts it to his lips for a loving kiss to his cheek. “My friend of centuries.” 

Taehyung whimpers, having to hug Yoongi as tightly as his weak arms allow him. He knew how loving his friend is. The healthy and happy relationship he has with both you and Jungkook are proof enough. Taehyung always knew that he was someone who makes people feel safe, but he never thought it would be to this extent.  

Taehyung feels so safe, so nurtured and healed, thinking such sweet things that Yoongi has to smile as he cleans him.

This won’t ever be talked about by either of them again. It will be as if it never happened. But for only a small moment in endless time, they are naked together sharing a bath after intense and fulfilling sex.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

BLOOD SUCKERS

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, described sex scenes, death, consumption of alcohol and blood, threesome, male and male intercourse, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, wax play, blood play, and more.

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

🩸My Master List🩸

Intro;

I knew something was wrong in the small city I’ve been living ever since I was born here and after I graduated from high school I was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the whole year this small hell of a city called Spring Villa always rained every day.

Every god damn day.

Not that i was complaining, one summer during a high school trip to California was enough for me to realize hot weather was not for me. One day to be more specific, it was my first time and everything seemed so more alive and colorful. But all come to an end since i had to spend the rest of the trip at the hospital with an IV inside my arm due to being exposed to the sun for too long, just one afternoon which was the same as everyone else did but i was the only one who almost died that day for burning on the sun and end up looking like a hot Cheeto. After that i even started to enjoy the cold humid air hitting my face every day when i left to work, the only thing it didn’t change was my hatred for the rain every morning. Getting wet before work was not very enjoyable, everyone could agree on that note.

But the beautiful weather of the city was not the most uncanny thing about it, it has been almost ten years since a serial killer was circling around the Spring Villa. I was only a teen when everything became known to everyone in the city that something wasn’t right, so many bodies were found around Spring Villa along the years people began to stay at home locked away from everything. Some left the city for once and never came back, those who stayed were people who had nowhere else to go, like me.

My father was terrified of the accidents involving the serial killer in town and he too left before anyone else, leaving me and my mother behind. I couldn’t blame him especially after my brother ended up becoming one of the victims, when the police officer called for my parents to identify the body it didn’t felt real to me. I was not allowed to go since at the time i was underage but, I didn’t even got a chance to say goodbye either. My parents didn’t do a funeral for him, it was all too much to bear so instead he was cremated and thrown on a river on the west side of Spring Villa his favorite place to hide with his friends. Ever since that happened my parents have not been the same, I knew that sooner or later this was bound to happen. When father left it was the last straw of sanity of my mother, she became an alcoholic and well… not good.

I’ve been working at the Spring Grill ever since I graduated high school, apart from so many people leaving the city many others came from cities around the town to get a bit of incloser about the serial killer of Spring Villa, he was never caught and that mystery seemed to amaze many tourists around town.

People from all over came to my stupid silly little city to make videos about the killer of my brother, at first I was so angry at them I wished they just didn’t came at all but, over the years it became dull and empty inside my heart. I had more to worry about then that and since I needed money to pay the rent I was more then happy so many tourist came to Spring Villa.

After all I meet my best friend like that.

Notes: Hello readers! Here’s a new story for all of you I truly hope you guys enjoy this work as much as you all been enjoying my old works. This story has been going around my mind a lot and I thought what better time to write then now? So here it is! Taglist is open so leave your request in the comments and I’ll add you! Love all of you, Author. 🩵