#vampire yoongi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chimcess · 2 months ago

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The Lost Boys || jjk

Chapter One: Welcome to Santa Carla Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Vampire!AU, Action, Horror, Suspense, Drama, Thriller, Comedy, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, ANGST, Fluff, Smut Other Tags: Human!Jungkook, Thrall!Jungkook, Thrall!Reader, Vampire!Jimin, Vampire!Taehyung, Vampire!Yoongi, Young!Namjoon, Young!Seokjin Word Count: 27.8k+ Summary: 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. Warnings: Death, Blood drinking, vampire attack, emotional manipulation, mind manipulation, mean vampires, vampires acting like vampires, star-crossed lovers, mates, teen angst, dubious consent, oral (f receiving), conspiracy theorist teenage boys, self-hatred, depression, crying, self-blame, Jimin is not a good person, none of them are, because they're all vampires, banter, running away, missing people, ignoring red flags, strong language, voyeurism A/N: I've been in my movie bag recently, and thought why not do one of my favorite movies of all time? The Lost Boys holds so much sentimental value for me. I remember watching it with my dad when I was little, and it's held a special place in my heart as an avid horror fan ever since. I hope I was able to convey that with this mini-series. Thanks so much for reading.

masterlist || next

The ocean stretched endlessly into the horizon, shimmering like diamonds beneath the pale, unblinking gaze of the moon. Each ripple on its restless surface danced with the ghost of starlight, alive and undulating with a rhythm as ancient as the earth itself. Waves rolled forward in a relentless ballet, their foamy crests glowing faintly in the moonlight before crashing against the shore with a soothing sound. Along the coastline, bonfires blazed fiercely, their flames licking the air as if trying to grasp the infinite night. Shadows played across the sand, flickering and elongating, casting a warm, golden hue on the faces of those who gathered around them. The air was heavy with salt and the tang of wood smoke, alive with laughter.

Just beyond the glow of the fires, the Santa Carla Boardwalk was packed. It was chaos and wonder wrapped together, a carnival of sound, light, and motion. Neon signs blinked in dizzying patterns, their colors reflecting off the ocean like shards of stained glass. The Ferris Wheel loomed large against the velvet sky, its glowing, lazy rotations casting halos of light onto the water below. The air was thick with the mingling scents of caramel corn, fried dough, and the faint metallic tang of machinery. Laughter and screams of delight collided with the booming bass of carnival music. Arcades buzzed and chimed, their flashing screens enticing would-be champions, while thrill rides screeched and spun, their passengers caught in a mix of terror and exhilaration. The boardwalk was alive—an unapologetic display of everything Santa Carla had to offer.

Near the center of the boardwalk stood the carousel house, its ornate structure glowing softly beneath strings of twinkling bulbs. Inside, the calliope wheezed out its hauntingly cheerful tune, a melody that felt slightly too jaunty against the restless energy the night carried. Painted horses and gilded benches spun in a slow circle, their colors worn but vibrant under the flickering lights. Children laughed as they climbed onto the carousel, while teenagers lounged carelessly, their voices loud and unrestrained. But the scene wasn’t all innocence. Looming at the edge of the carousel were the Swell Brigade, a pack of self-proclaimed kings of the beach, their arrogance as bold as the slogans stamped across their T-shirts: My Beach, My Wave. They moved as if they owned the boardwalk, laughing too loud, their swagger unmistakable.

Then, as if on cue, they appeared. Just outside of the lights and glamour, four teenage boys stood watching as people passed by.

The Lost Boys, a small rival group who did not seem intimidated by the Brigade as much as the others. The surfers all noticed when they arrived, as it was always at night, and the boys carried a strange, almost feral quality when they came to the Boardwalk.

Jimin was the first to step into the light, his tall, commanding presence impossible to ignore. He moved with a fluid confidence, a magnetism that turned heads instinctively. His smile was faint but piercing, and his hair was the color of freshly picked cotton. His pale skin matched the other three’s, and his eyes were black. They almost seemed hungry as he followed a particularly pretty girl as she passed by completely unaware of his presence.

Behind him, Taeyang, Yoongi, and Taehyung followed, each of them striking in their own way. They didn’t walk so much as glide, their movements casual but calculated, each step perfectly synchronized. Taehyung and Taehyung both had dark, black hair with equally sharp and pale faces. Yoongi was the softest in the group, his eyes the only thing carrying edge, and his skin the palest of the four. He had dark bags under his eyes and seemed perpetually bored.

Greg, the self-proclaimed king of the Swell Brigade, lounged on a carousel bench, his arm slung tightly around Shelly as if she were a trophy rather than his girlfriend. His smirk was a challenge, cold and smug, his eyes fixed on the group lingering too close to his territory. He despised the Lost Boys. Always skulking around the boardwalk like they owned the place. Freaks.

But Shelly’s gaze had wandered. Her eyes lingered just a little too long on Jimin—curiosity flickering like the bonfire's glow in her pupils. Jimin caught her look and smiled, warm yet distant, like he knew something Greg didn’t.

Greg’s smirk faltered. His grip on Shelly’s arm tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. When Yoongi passed too close, Greg saw his opportunity. With deliberate carelessness, he stretched out his foot and caught Yoongi’s ankle.

Yoongi stumbled, nearly sprawling face-first into the sand before catching himself. He shot Greg a murderous glare, knuckles clenching at his sides.

"Watch where you're walking, asshole," Greg drawled, his grin wide and mean.

Yoongi took a step forward, eyes flashing, but Jimin appeared beside him, placing a calming hand on his arm. Jimin moved like smoke, his presence quiet yet undeniable. He didn’t speak at first. He didn’t need to. Just standing there was enough to still Yoongi’s brewing anger.

The Swell Brigade shifted uneasily. A few had started laughing, but now their chuckles faltered. The Lost Boys weren’t loud or showy, but there was something unsettling about them. Something sharp, like walking barefoot on glass and not knowing when you’d get cut.

“Do we have a problem?” Jimin asked, voice smooth yet sharp. His dark eyes locked onto Greg’s.

Greg sneered. "Yeah, we sure do."

“And what would that be, dickhead?” Taehyung cut in, stepping closer with a lopsided grin. His squared smile stretched too wide, and the exaggerated amusement in his face made Greg’s stomach twist. Taehyung always looked like he was halfway between a joke and something much worse.

Greg shook it off. "Eyes off my girl, Casper."

The Swell Brigade laughed, but when Yoongi and Taehyung joined in, their chuckles died awkwardly. Taehyung’s grin was far too pleased, and Yoongi’s smile looked predatory, sharp and glinting.

“Casper?” Jimin chuckled. “That’s a good one. How long did it take you to come up with that joke?”

Shelly stifled a giggle behind her hand. Taehyung’s eyes flicked to her, and he winked, smug and deliberate. Shelly’s cheeks flushed crimson as she turned her face away.

Greg’s face darkened. His grip on Shelly’s arm turned to a shove, pushing her away from him so roughly she stumbled.

“You’re making eyes at them now?” he barked, voice rising. “Are you kidding me? You’re into these pale freaks who smell like they’ve been rotting behind a dumpster?”

“I-I wasn’t—” Shelly stammered, her voice trembling. Her eyes were wide and wet, but Greg cut her off before the tears could spill.

“Leave the lady alone,” Jimin said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but there was steel in it now.

Greg spun on him, face twisted with rage. “Stay out of this.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to respect women?” Jimin’s voice stayed cold and even, his eyes glinting like a knife's edge. "Especially the ones you claim to love."

Greg’s face turned blotchy with anger. His fists clenched, shoulders rising. For a moment, it seemed like he’d swing. The Lost Boys stiffened, ready to retaliate.

Then the security guard appeared, lumbering into view with a flashlight in hand.

He was massive, his uniform straining at the seams, and he carried his nightstick with the authority of someone who believed himself untouchable. He wasted no time, striding forward and jabbing the tip of the stick against Jimin’s throat.

“I thought I told you to stay off the boardwalk,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that silenced the scene.

For a moment, Jimin didn’t move. His dark eyes locked onto the guard’s, unwavering. It was a battle of wills, a moment stretched taut. Then, slowly, that same disarming smile appeared on Jimin’s face.

“Come on,” he said softly to his friends, his voice calm and unbothered. “Let’s go.”

The guard’s gaze followed them, a mix of relief and suspicion etched across his face. Then he turned to Greg and the Swell Brigade. “You too. Off the boardwalk. Now.”

Greg hesitated, his wounded pride flickering across his features. Someone called his name and grabbed his arm. Reluctantly, Greg and his crew shuffled away, their bravado deflated.

Jimin turned to Shelly, his voice softer now.

“You okay?”

Shelly nodded weakly, brushing her hair back from her face. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Thanks.”

Jimin gave her a small smile and turned away, disappearing into the dark with his strange little group. The wind picked up, stirring the bonfire’s flames higher. Shelly lingered a moment longer, still staring after him.

Taehyung threw a look at her over his shoulder, and Shelly couldn’t help but smile.

“Come find me,” he shouted, his smile dazzling and radiant.

“I see you now,” she countered.

Detaching himself from the other three, Taehyung made his way over. Shelly seemed hypnotized by his presence and did not hesitate to take his outstretched hand.

As they walked away together, Taehyung grinned over his shoulder at Jimin. "See you boys later."

Jimin shook his head, unimpressed. "Back before sunrise," he muttered.

"Always, boss," Taehyung shot back, beaming. “Hope you three are just as lucky.”

"We will be," Jimin deadpanned, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Taeyang already saw something he liked earlier. We’re going to help him find her.”

“I found mine,” Taehyung leaned into Shelly, sniffing her hair. The ginger sighed dreamily, clutching his hand even tighter. “And she looks delicious.”

Jimin’s smile sharpened. “Enjoy your snack,” he called. “We’re in the mood for something... a little more fattening.”

Laughing darkly, the three of them melted into the shadows, leaving the boardwalk behind.

The boardwalk emptied soon after, the carnival’s vibrant energy fading as the rides powered down one by one. The neon lights blinked out, plunging the scene into a hollow, eerie darkness. Even the calliope music stuttered and stopped, leaving only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Somewhere in the distance, the ocean shimmered on, indifferent and eternal.

The vast, empty parking lot stretched out like a graveyard of concrete, illuminated by the cold, flickering glow of a single streetlamp. The security guard leaned against his car door, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low and tired.

“Yeah, I’ll be home soon,” he muttered. His gaze swept the lot, scanning the shadows like he expected something to lunge from the dark. “I just had to deal with those weird kids again... Yeah, those ones. They’re always hanging around.”

He paused, fingers drumming anxiously on his car roof. “No, no. Don’t wait up. I’ll grab something on the way home.” His voice dropped even lower. “Yeah... love you too.”

The call ended with a soft beep. He exhaled sharply and stuffed the phone into his pocket. The strange tension that had clung to the air all night seemed to thicken. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it felt wrong. Heavy.

He fumbled for his keys, fingers trembling slightly. His nerves felt shot, frayed at the edges by too many unsettling encounters on the boardwalk. The sound of his own breathing felt too loud in the quiet.

Then came a gust of wind—a rush of air so sudden and sharp it felt like the night itself had exhaled. It swirled around him, stirring up loose papers and dust, and with it came a sound. A screech, high-pitched and unnatural, like nails dragged across glass. The sound dissolved almost instantly, replaced by something worse: whispers.

They were soft, maddeningly quick, and layered over each other in a chaotic symphony. Words melted into words, impossible to parse, like a language spoken by something that had only recently learned how to mimic human speech. The guard’s breath hitched, his instincts screaming at him to move, to run. But fear rooted him in place. His head snapped up as he turned in all directions, eyes darting wildly for the source of the noise.

The whispers stopped.

In that split second of silence, he caught movement—a flicker of something above him. His lips parted, ready to shout, but he never got the chance.

It happened so fast. One moment, he was standing there, and the next, he was gone. Yanked upward into the night with such force that his body blurred, a flash of dull blue uniform vanishing into the blackness above. His lunch pail hit the asphalt with a metallic clang, bouncing once, twice, before settling on its side.

The silence returned, but this time it was charged, alive with the aftermath of something unnatural. The lot was empty again, save for the lunch pail and the eerie hum of the streetlamp. The wind shifted toward the beach, where the waves lapped against the shore with quiet indifference, as if nothing at all had happened.

Then came the sound of impact.

A sickening thud echoed across the shoreline. The guard’s body landed in the wet sand, a lifeless heap. He was grotesque now, drained of all the vitality that had once defined him. His skin was ashen, his face sunken, his eyes wide open in a glassy stare of horror. Veins snaked darkly across his deflated form, as if the blood within him had been pulled out with vicious precision. He looked hollow, almost weightless, like a balloon someone had sucked the air from but left untied.

Jimin crouched over the body, his lips stained a deep crimson, his breath heavy with exhilaration. The predatory gleam in his eyes flickered like molten gold under the moonlight. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood further, and grinned—a grin that was equal parts satisfaction and hunger, because for Jimin, the kill was never just about feeding. It was about the thrill of the hunt, the raw power that coursed through him every time he took a life.

Behind him, the others emerged from the shadows, their figures half-illuminated by the moonlight. Taeyang walked with an easy swagger, dragging his fingers through his dark hair as his sharp, gleaming fangs caught the light. Yoongi stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes glinting with approval. Taehyung leaned casually against a nearby boulder, his lips curled into a smirk as he observed the scene.

“That was messy,” Taeyang remarked, his voice low and smooth, tinged with dark amusement.

Jimin tilted his head, the grin never leaving his face. “Messy’s more fun,” he replied, licking a smear of blood from his thumb.

“Not for him,” Taehyung quipped, gesturing to the deflated corpse on the sand. The four of them erupted into quiet laughter, the sound sharp and mocking, a stark contrast to the quiet, lifeless night.

“Careful, Jimin,” Yoongi said, his voice honeyed but laced with warning. “You’re going to draw too much attention. We don’t need another hunt interrupted by cops.”

Jimin stood, brushing sand from his knees as he turned to face Yoongi.

“Let them come,” he said, his tone daring, almost eager. “They’ll end up just like him.” He jerked his chin toward the body without looking, as if it were nothing more than a discarded piece of trash.

The group moved closer to the shore, the waves crashing softly at their feet as the horizon began to pale with the first hints of dawn. They weren’t afraid of the approaching light—Santa Carla’s rocky cliffs and endless network of caves provided all the cover they needed. But even as the stars began to fade, the night still felt alive, charged with the chaos they left in their wake.

"So," Jimin asked, casually wiping his mouth again and adjusting his jacket with practiced ease, "how did you boys fare tonight?" His tone was light, but there was something colder, sharper beneath it, a sense of curiosity laced with a silent challenge.

Taehyung flashed a wide grin, his teeth gleaming white in the dim light. "I had a sip from Shelly," he said, his voice smooth, a dark chuckle rising in his chest. "Just enough to keep her docile. She won’t remember a thing by morning. Poor thing. She thinks she's in love with me." He let out a low, sinister laugh. "Humans are so easy to manipulate."

Yoongi’s laugh joined in, a low, almost animalistic sound rumbling in his chest as he leaned against the hood of a nearby car, his eyes glowing faintly in the shadows. “Yang and I found a couple parked near the cliffside,” he said, his voice still smooth but with an edge of satisfaction. “You should’ve seen their faces when I knocked on the window. Priceless.”

Taehyung’s grin widened, amusement dancing in his eyes. “And you shared?”

Yoongi shrugged lazily, the movement almost feline in its grace. “Seemed fair enough. We were hungry.”

Taeyang, who had been standing off to the side, grinned, his sharp features illuminated by the fading moonlight. “They were pretty drunk,” he added, his voice light with amusement. “Hardly even struggled. They didn’t know what hit ‘em.”

“And the car?” Jimin asked, his smile turning sharper, more predatory as he turned his gaze toward Taeyang. His curiosity was evident, but there was also something darker, a hunger in his eyes.

Taeyang’s grin turned wicked, colder than before. "Off the cliff," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Tomorrow morning, when they fish it out, they’ll think the brakes failed. An accident. No one will ask any questions. It’ll be perfect."

Jimin’s approval was evident in his low murmur, a satisfied smile curling on his lips. "Nice," he said, his voice smooth like silk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous.

Yoongi stretched lazily, his silhouette dark and sharp against the pale light of the dying moon. His expression was relaxed, and a light smile spread across his face when Taehyung made his way over and kissed his cheek. "We should go," he said, his voice calm. "The night’s over."

Jimin glanced back at the body one final time, his grin melting into something far colder, more deliberate. The playful tone faded from his eyes as they turned steely, calculating. “Not for him,” he murmured, the words slipping out like a promise as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.

The waves continued to crash rhythmically against the shore, sweeping away the traces of the night’s activities, erasing the evidence left in the sand. The parking lot was silent once again, as though the horrors that had taken place there had never occurred. And as the sun began to rise, casting the first pale light over Santa Carla, the town stirred to life, blissfully unaware of the monsters that roamed the night.

Morning arrived on the Pacific Coast as it always did—effortlessly golden, washing the world in a soft, honeyed glow. The sound of waves crashing against the shore blended with the distant cries of gulls circling overhead, painting the perfect picture of a summer day. Along the coastal highway, a beat-up Land Rover rumbled steadily, towing a tired-looking U-Haul trailer. The vehicle was laden with the weight of more than just luggage—it carried the heavy, complicated promise of a fresh start. A new beginning. Or so Wanda Jeon liked to tell herself.

The Land Rover hugged the curves of the road as the ocean sparkled to one side, its surface catching the morning light like scattered diamonds. On the other side, jagged cliffs jutted up toward the endless sky, rugged and untamed. Wanda Jeon gripped the wheel casually, her tanned arm resting out the window, her dark hair fluttering in the salt-tinged breeze. She liked the feel of the air on her skin, even if the wind whipped in too aggressively. It was better than the stale, oppressive stillness she had left behind in the Midwest. This was freedom—or as close to it as a single mother dragging her two sons across the country in a car on its last legs could get.

Her given name was Won-Young, but no one called her that anymore. Not since high school, when her family first moved to California and she’d chosen “Wanda” as a way to make herself fit into a world that didn’t seem to have space for her. Even now, years later, the name stuck. No one but her late mother had called her Won-Young in years, and even her father avoided it. Wanda exhaled, shaking off the weight of the thought.

In the passenger seat, Jung-Hyun, her eleven-year-old, sat slouched with his arms crossed, a scowl firmly etched onto his face. The boy had mastered the art of disdain early, and he wore it like a badge. Outside the car window, the Pacific stretched endlessly, blue and shimmering, but Jung-Hyun regarded it with the same irritation he reserved for vegetables. “What’s that smell?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“That,” Wanda replied, inhaling deeply through her nose, “is the ocean. Salty, fresh, alive—nothing like it.”

“It smells like something died,” Jung-Hyun deadpanned, leaning further away from the window.

In the backseat, Jungkook, her seventeen-year-old, was no more cheerful. He lounged in sullen silence, his headphones firmly in place and his arms folded across his chest. Bam, his oversized Doberman, lay sprawled beside him, taking up more than his fair share of the seat. Bam’s massive head rested on Jungkook’s lap, the dog snoring softly, oblivious to the tension in the car.

Jungkook shifted slightly but didn’t bother removing his headphones. His dark eyes stared out the window, seeing everything but taking in nothing. Wanda glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He was a walking storm cloud, and no amount of sunshine from the Pacific Coast seemed capable of breaking through.

“We’re getting close,” Wanda said, her voice bright and hopeful.

“Great,” Jungkook muttered, though his tone suggested otherwise.

Jung-Hyun wrinkled his nose again and pointed out the window. “What’s with all the bikers?”

Wanda craned her neck and spotted a pack of motorcycles roaring past them, their riders clad in leather and denim, tattoos snaking up their arms. They disappeared into the distance, their engines growling like thunder.

“Welcome to California,” she said lightly, her attempt at humor falling flat.

The Land Rover crested a hill, and the town of Santa Carla came into view. It unfolded below them like a postcard, all charm and energy. The boardwalk stretched along the beach, dotted with colorful shops, carnival rides, and a steady stream of tourists and locals weaving through the crowd. Beyond it, the ocean sparkled invitingly, waves rolling toward the shore in endless rhythm. The town seemed alive, buzzing with the kind of vibrancy that only summer could bring.

Up ahead, a billboard loomed over the highway. Its cheerful, brightly painted letters read: Welcome to Santa Carla. Beneath it, the slogan promised endless fun: The Beach, The Boardwalk, The Perfect Summer. But as they passed the sign, Jungkook twisted in his seat, catching a glimpse of the back. Spray-painted in jagged black letters were the words: MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD.

He stared at it for a long moment, his brows furrowing. But he didn’t say anything.

The car rolled into town, navigating the narrow streets lined with surf shops, diners, and street performers. Wanda pulled into a gas station near the boardwalk, its pumps weathered and faded but functional. She stepped out of the car, stretching her legs as she grabbed the nozzle to fill the tank.

Jung-Hyun practically bolted from the car, his earlier disdain forgotten as he caught sight of the boardwalk. “Mom! There’s an amusement park! Right on the beach!” he called, his voice tinged with rare excitement.

“That’s the boardwalk,” Wanda explained, smiling despite herself. “We’ll go later.”

Jung-Hyun groaned but didn’t argue, already craning his neck to take in the roller coasters and Ferris wheel in the distance.

Jungkook, meanwhile, had stepped out of the car, heading toward the trailer with a purpose. He yanked open the U-Haul and rolled out his motorbike, a sleek Honda with chipped paint that still managed to look impressive.

“I need to stretch my legs,” he said, his voice flat as he brushed past Wanda and wheeled the bike onto the pavement.

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t disappear. Your grandfather’s expecting us, and we’ve got unpacking to do.”

Jungkook shrugged, the engine roaring to life beneath him. “I’ll be back,” he said, his tone not unkind, but distant.

Wanda sighed, watching as he sped off down the street, Bam barking in protest from the backseat. She ruffled the dog’s ears through the window before handing a crumpled five-dollar bill to Jung-Hyun.

“See those kids by the dumpster?” she said, nodding toward two gaunt teenagers rummaging through a trash bin nearby. “Give this to them. Tell them to get something to eat.”

Jung-Hyun frowned. “I thought we were poor.”

“Not that poor,” Wanda replied, her tone firm but gentle.

He hesitated, then jogged over to deliver the money. The teens looked up, startled, their hollow eyes lighting up briefly as they mumbled their thanks. Wanda watched them carefully, her expression softening. Something about them felt familiar—too familiar.

But before she could dwell on it, the sound of a distant carnival ride bell rang out, blending with the hum of the boardwalk. Santa Carla was alive with possibility, its surface dazzling and bright. But beneath it, something darker stirred. Wanda couldn’t feel it yet, but Jungkook had. And it was only a matter of time before they all did.

“Use some of it to call home!” Wanda shouted after the teenagers, her voice carrying across the gas station as they disappeared into the chaos of Santa Carla’s streets. One of them turned and waved, his gaunt face splitting into a grin.

“Hey, thanks, lady!” he called, his voice already fading into the hum of passing cars and the distant crash of waves.

Wanda watched them go, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she climbed back into the Land Rover. For a moment, her fingers lingered on the steering wheel, her gaze drifting to where the teenagers had been. “Those kids look like me twenty years ago,” she murmured, half to herself, her tone heavy with a mixture of nostalgia and something harder to define.

Jung-Hyun perked up from the passenger seat, glancing at her with a raised brow. “You mean when you ran away from home? Hitchhiked all the way to Berkeley? Spent the night freezing in Golden Gate Park and begged for spare change the next morning?”

Wanda groaned, leaning her head against the back of her seat before shooting him a playful glare. “You’ve heard this story before?”

“Only about a million times. I’m starting to think it happened to me,” he said dryly, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

Wanda shook her head with a laugh, starting the car and pulling back onto the road. As the boardwalk faded into the distance behind them, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Santa Carla stretched out ahead, its secrets shimmering just out of reach, waiting for them to discover—or stumble upon—them.

The long, winding road that led to their destination seemed like it had been forgotten by time. Trees loomed on either side, their shadows stretching across the cracked asphalt as if trying to pull the Land Rover and its weary passengers into their embrace. The house appeared at the end of the road like a mirage—rugged, weatherworn, and sprawling. Its wood was dark and peeling, the paint long faded to a patchwork of gray and green.

“It looks like something out of a horror movie,” Jung-Hyun muttered as the car rolled to a stop, his eyes narrowing at the sagging porch.

The yard was wild and unkempt, overgrown grass swaying in the breeze as though it were alive. And there, on the porch, a figure slumped in an ancient rocking chair. He—or rather, it—was still, too still, with a wide-brimmed hat tilted low over his face and one hand dangling lifelessly off the armrest.

Wanda stepped out of the car, her boots crunching against the gravel as she shaded her eyes against the afternoon sun.

“That’s him?” Jungkook asked from behind her, his voice as unimpressed as ever. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his hair out in a way that was just a little too perfect, even in the glaring sunlight.

“That’s Harabeoji,” Wanda said, but there was hesitation in her voice.

“He looks dead,” Jungkook remarked flatly, leaning his weight against his bike as though he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Wanda’s jaw tightened as she climbed the creaking steps, every one of them groaning under her weight. She paused, staring at the unmoving figure in the chair. Her fingers hesitated in midair before she finally reached out, her voice trembling just slightly. “Dad?”

Jung-Hyun leaned out of the car window, his expression somewhere between concern and opportunity. “If he’s dead, can we move back to Phoenix?”

Wanda shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass, but before she could speak, the man in the chair suddenly came to life. His head shot up, revealing twinkling eyes and a grin wide enough to split his weathered face in two.

“Playin’ dead,” Min-chul Jeon declared with a raspy chuckle. “And from what I heard, doin’ a damn good job of it, too.”

Wanda let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, laughing despite herself as she threw her arms around him. “God, Dad, you scared me!”

Min-chul patted her back, his voice warm. “Well, consider it payback for scarin’ me for the first twenty years of your life.”

Behind them, Jungkook and Jung-Hyun exchanged a glance, equal parts confusion and discomfort.

The interior of the house was exactly as Wanda had remembered—or maybe worse. Dust clung to every surface, catching the sunlight in golden motes that floated lazily through the air. The furniture looked like it had been there since the dawn of time, upholstered in fabrics that had seen better decades. Every available surface was cluttered with trinkets and oddities—wooden carvings, jars filled with mysterious contents, and stacks upon stacks of books, their spines cracked and faded.

“Cool place,” Jungkook muttered, dragging his weights through the door. He paused long enough to do a few bicep curls, the veins in his arms bulging unnecessarily.

“Can’t even go five minutes without flexing,” Jung-Hyun quipped, carrying an armload of comic books that he promptly dumped onto the floor.

“Will you give Mom a break?” Jungkook shot back, leaning on the doorway with the ease of someone who knew he was stronger and taller.

Jung-Hyun rolled his eyes dramatically, flopping onto the couch with the kind of flair that only an eleven-year-old could muster. “Fine. But seriously, has anyone noticed? There’s no TV. No malls. No Wi-Fi. How am I supposed to live here? I won’t even have MTV!”

“Hey, we’re broke,” Jungkook reminded him, grabbing a box and hauling it toward the stairs.

“Even broke people have TVs,” Jung-Hyun grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Knock it off,” Wanda said from the porch, her voice cutting through their bickering like a whip.

Outside, Bam darted across the yard, barking excitedly as he explored every corner of his new domain. Wanda and Min-chul worked side by side, unloading the U-Haul with practiced efficiency.

“You know,” Min-chul said, lowering a heavy box to the ground, “most women I know improve their situation by getting divorced.”

Wanda let out a breathless laugh, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Yeah, well, a long court battle wouldn’t have helped anybody. It was time to move on.” She hesitated, glancing toward the house. “Thanks for letting us stay, Dad.”

Min-chul patted her shoulder, his grip firm but kind. “We’re family, kiddo. That’s what we do.”

From upstairs came the unmistakable sound of a scuffle, followed by Jung-Hyun’s indignant yell.

“This room’s mine!” Jungkook’s voice rang out, muffled but unmistakably smug.

“Over my dead body!”

A crash followed, and then the thundering of feet down the stairs as Jung-Hyun bolted for safety. He rounded the corner into the kitchen, his face red and his voice trailing behind him. “Help me, Mom! Help!”

From outside, Wanda’s voice floated back, dry and amused. “Soon.”

Jung-Hyun’s footsteps pounded against the wooden floor as he sprinted into the living room, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear Jungkook’s heavy boots thudding just behind him, getting closer with each step. Desperation sharpened his instincts as he skidded to a stop in front of a pair of large sliding doors. Without thinking, he yanked them open, slipped inside, and slammed them shut behind him, pressing his back against the smooth wood.

For a moment, silence. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, but he thought he might have gotten away. Relief began to wash over him—until he took a good look at his surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, which cast long, eerie shadows across the space. It was a grotesque museum of death. Mounted animal heads adorned every inch of the walls—deer, antelope, a bear, and even a wolf, its lips pulled back in a permanent snarl. Below them were rows of shelves cluttered with jars filled with glassy, disembodied eyes and scraps of fur. Boxes stacked high in the corners spilled over with tools and materials: wooden molds, needles, and what appeared to be half-finished animal bodies, their forms unsettlingly lifelike yet incomplete.

Jung-Hyun swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the macabre display. He felt like he’d stepped straight into a horror movie, the kind where the audience screams for the character to get out, but they never listen. His stomach churned. Were the eyes on the wolf following him? He took a shaky step back, only to trip over something solid and fleshy. An antelope’s severed head rolled across the floor, its lifeless glass eyes staring up at him.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, shuddering.

The moment shattered as the door behind him burst open. Jungkook strode in, his face a mixture of triumph and annoyance. His shadow loomed over the younger boy, cast long by the single bulb swaying above them.

“Gotcha,” Jungkook said, his voice low and smug.

Jung-Hyun scrambled backward, his foot catching on a discarded pelt. “This place is so freaking weird,” he muttered, his gaze darting to a raccoon frozen mid-snarl on the nearest shelf. “What is wrong with this house?”

Jungkook was about to fire back with one of his usual quips when a gruff voice cut through the tense silence.

“Rules!”

Both boys froze as Min-chul appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. He stood like a sentinel, his sharp gaze flicking between them. The room seemed to grow smaller under his presence.

“I told you to stay outta here,” Min-chul said, his voice carrying an edge that left no room for argument. “This room’s not for kids.”

Jung-Hyun and Jungkook glanced at each other, uneasy, but Min-chul didn’t linger. He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come with me. Both of you.”

Reluctantly, they followed. Min-chul led them to the kitchen, where he threw open the refrigerator door with an exaggerated flourish. He pointed to the middle shelf, which was marked with a piece of cardboard and scrawled black marker: “Old Fart’s Shelf.”

“This here,” Min-chul declared, tapping the shelf with authority, “is mine. Root beer, double-thick Mint Oreos, and leftover brisket. Nobody touches this shelf. You hear me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow but nodded solemnly, while Jung-Hyun mumbled something that might have been agreement. Min-chul slammed the fridge shut, but the lecture wasn’t over. He pointed to the corner of the kitchen table, where an ancient, dog-eared copy of TV Guide sat.

“And when the mailman brings the TV Guide,” Min-chul continued, “sometimes the address label peels up on the corner. You’ll be tempted to pick at it. Don’t. You’ll ruin the cover.”

Jung-Hyun furrowed his brow. “You... still get the TV Guide?”

Min-chul shot him a look, his lips quirking upward in amusement. “I don’t have a TV. But if you read the TV Guide, you don’t need a TV.”

Jungkook bit his lip to keep from laughing, but Jung-Hyun’s jaw dropped in incredulity. Before either of them could comment, Min-chul gave a satisfied nod and disappeared back into the depths of the house, leaving the boys to exchange baffled looks.

“This guy is certifiable,” Jung-Hyun muttered.

“Certifiable,” Jungkook agreed, grinning.

As the evening stretched on, the house began to settle into its peculiar rhythm. The chaos of the day—the chasing, the strange rules, the taxidermy horrors—faded into the background, leaving a kind of quiet harmony in its place. In the kitchen, the clatter of dishes and running water filled the air as Wanda, Jungkook, and Jung-Hyun tackled the daunting mountain of post-dinner cleanup. The sink overflowed with suds, the counters were crowded with plates and pans, and Wanda’s trusty old radio sat perched on the windowsill, tuned to her favorite oldies station.

Jung-Hyun, elbow-deep in soap suds, worked at scrubbing a particularly stubborn baking dish. He scowled as he scraped at the caked-on residue, muttering under his breath. “What did you even cook in this, cement?”

Behind him, Jungkook smirked as he dried a stack of plates. “Maybe if you didn’t spend half of dinner whining about the vegetables, you’d know.”

“Whatever,” Jung-Hyun muttered, rolling his eyes.

Wanda, humming along to the music, seemed oblivious to the bickering. She had the cheerful energy of someone who genuinely enjoyed the mundane rituals of life, even doing dishes. Her voice rose and fell with the tunes on the radio, a little off-key but endearing all the same. Jung-Hyun had long ago complained that her station played nothing but “ancient songs no one under sixty cares about,” but Wanda had just laughed and cranked the volume.

And then, it happened.

The unmistakable opening notes of “Land of a Thousand Dances” crackled through the speakers, breaking through the background noise of running water and clinking dishes. Wanda froze mid-scrub, her eyes widening as if she’d just been struck by divine inspiration. Her face lit up, her expression transforming from tired to electric in an instant.

“Oh, you guys have no idea!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with glee. Without another word, she carefully set the dish she was holding down on the counter, wiped her hands on her apron, and spun around to face the boys. She clapped her hands in rhythm to the beat, her hips already swaying.

“This is the song,” she declared, her voice rising over the music. “Watch and learn.”

Before either of them could react, she launched into an energetic dance, clapping and twisting like she’d been transported back in time. Her movements were unselfconscious and full of joy, the kind of dancing that didn’t care if anyone was watching. She spun in place, kicking her feet and clapping above her head, all while grinning like a teenager at a school dance.

Jung-Hyun stared at her, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.

“This,” Wanda said, grabbing his hands before he could escape, “is pony time!”

With a tug, she pulled him away from the sink. At first, he stood stiff and mortified, his arms limp as she tried to swing them. “Mom, stop! This is so embarrassing!” he protested, glancing nervously at Jungkook, who was leaning casually against the counter, clearly enjoying the show.

But Wanda was relentless. She kicked her feet out in a ridiculous two-step, her laughter bubbling over as she swung her arms like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Come on, kiddo, loosen up!” she urged, spinning him in a clumsy circle.

Jung-Hyun’s mortification started to crack under the weight of her sheer joy. He caught her rhythm, stumbling at first but then tentatively swaying his hips to the beat. A grin began to creep onto his face, and he added a little bounce to his steps. Wanda cheered, clapping wildly, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

To his own surprise, Jung-Hyun let go. He mimicked Wanda’s moves, exaggerating them to ridiculous proportions—a wildly uncoordinated shimmy here, a dramatic spin there. Wanda doubled over laughing, nearly collapsing from the effort of keeping up.

“Jungkook!” Wanda called out, waving her arms to beckon him. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper!”

Jungkook shook his head, still holding a dish towel. “No way. You two look insane.”

“Don’t be lame,” Jung-Hyun said, his face flushed but grinning ear to ear. He threw in another exaggerated shimmy for good measure, making Wanda laugh so hard she had to clutch the counter to steady herself.

Wanda wasn’t about to give up. She danced closer to Jungkook, her hands on her hips. “You’re not too cool to dance with your family, are you?” she teased, her voice sing-song and playful.

Jungkook sighed dramatically, setting down the plate he’d been drying. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping forward. “But only so you’ll stop bugging me.”

At first, his movements were stiff and awkward. He shuffled his feet and swayed half-heartedly, his face betraying his discomfort. Wanda whooped, clapping her hands, while Jung-Hyun burst into laughter.

“Wow, you’ve got so much rhythm,” Jung-Hyun teased. “Maybe take it down a notch before you hurt yourself.”

Jungkook shot him a look, but gradually, his reluctance began to melt away. He copied Wanda’s spins and kicks, finding the beat in his own careful way. Slowly but surely, he began to loosen up, his lips twitching upward in spite of himself.

The three of them danced together, their laughter echoing through the kitchen. Wanda threw her arms up and clapped above her head, Jung-Hyun tried (and failed) to moonwalk across the tiles, and Jungkook broke into an exaggerated, awkward robot dance that sent Wanda into a fit of giggles.

Soap suds clung to their forearms, and their mismatched socks skidded across the wet floor, but none of them cared. The music blared, the dishes were forgotten, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the house was filled with pure, unrestrained joy.

By the time the song ended, all three of them were breathless, leaning against the counters and laughing so hard their sides hurt. The world outside, with all its weirdness and worries, felt miles away.

In that kitchen, with the radio still playing softly and the laughter lingering in the air, everything felt lighter.

The beach pulsed with life, alive with the energy of the night. Bonfires dotted the shore like beacons, their golden flames licking at the dark sky. The firelight danced on the waves, casting fleeting shadows that wove in and out of the frothy surf. The air was thick with the mingling scents of salt, smoke, and the faint tang of sunscreen lingering on sunburnt skin. Everywhere, people moved in chaotic clusters, talking too loud and laughing like the night would never end.

Jungkook and Jung-Hyun navigated the throng, weaving between groups sprawled on blankets or perched on coolers, dodging the occasional stray Frisbee. Jung-Hyun was preoccupied, fussing over his appearance with the nervous energy of someone painfully aware of how much they didn’t fit in. His shirt was crisp, the kind of brand-new that still carried faint fold lines, and he tugged at the sleeves like they didn’t belong to him. His hands repeatedly flew to his hair, smoothing it, ruffling it, then smoothing it again, as though he could bully the stubborn strands into submission.

“Stop fidgeting,” Jungkook said, his tone hovering somewhere between teasing and affectionate.

Jung-Hyun shot him a look, his lips pressed tight. “I can’t help it. My hair sucks. My clothes suck. I suck.”

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re fine.”

“I want to change everything—my hair, my clothes, my face,” Jung-Hyun muttered, his voice muffled as he glared down at his sneakers.

Jungkook grinned, nudging him lightly. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply.

Jung-Hyun snorted, the words bouncing off him like rain on a windshield. But before he could argue, the music crashed over them, huge and consuming. They had reached the boardwalk steps, where a makeshift stage had been set up, and a rock band was tearing into a blistering set. The bass thrummed in the air, so heavy it felt like a second heartbeat.

The crowd here was different from the groups scattered on the beach. It wasn’t casual. It was raw, electric. People danced with abandon, their bodies moving like they were possessed by the rhythm. The energy was infectious, a kind of wild freedom that made Jung-Hyun falter for a moment, unsure if he wanted to dive in or retreat.

Jungkook, however, was unbothered. He guided them through the chaos, stepping over discarded cups and swerving around flailing arms as if he’d done it a hundred times before. The heat of the crowd, the press of bodies, the unrelenting noise—all of it blurred together into a haze of sound and motion.

And then, Jungkook saw her.

She was standing just outside the crowd, close enough to feel the pulse of the music but far enough to remain untouched by the frenzy. The first thing he noticed was how still she was, like the eye of a storm. Her hair fell in loose waves that caught the light of the stage, glowing like a halo against the darkness. She was tall, or maybe it was just the way she carried herself—self-assured in a way that made the world seem to tilt ever so slightly around her.

Her eyes were what stopped him.

Even from a distance, they drew him in, dark and deep and filled with something he couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t staring at the stage like everyone else; her gaze flicked across the crowd with a kind of detached curiosity, as if she were observing rather than participating. She didn’t look like she belonged to the chaos, but rather like she had been dropped into it by mistake.

She wasn’t alone. A boy stood beside her, younger than her, with a mop of dark hair and a face that seemed too perfect, too polished. He clung to her presence like a lifeline, but something about the way she stood—the slight angle of her body, the distance in her gaze—made it clear she wasn’t his. She wasn’t anyone’s.

Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, her eyes lifted and met Jungkook’s.

In that moment, the world stopped.

The music faded to a dull hum, the crowd blurred into shadow, and it was just the two of them—two strangers suspended in a fleeting moment that felt more real than anything around them. Jungkook’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t explain. He didn’t know her, but somehow, it didn’t feel like the first time he’d seen her. She wasn’t smiling, but there was something in her gaze that made the air between them hum.

A smile tugged at his lips, tentative and genuine. His heart thudded against his ribs, faster now, like it was trying to keep up with the energy of the moment.

She didn’t smile back.

Instead, her expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across her face. She turned away, reaching for the younger boy’s hand. Without a word, she slipped into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of moving bodies as quickly as she’d appeared.

Jungkook blinked, as if waking from a dream. The noise of the world rushed back in, sudden and overwhelming. He stood frozen for a moment, his pulse still racing, before grabbing Jung-Hyun by the arm.

“Come on,” he said, his voice sharp with urgency.

“What?” Jung-Hyun protested, stumbling to keep up as Jungkook pulled him toward the spot where she had vanished. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

But Jungkook didn’t answer. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put words to the pull he felt in his chest. All he knew was that he couldn’t just let her disappear. Not yet.

A few blocks away from the chaos of the beach, the pier was quieter, though it still buzzed with its own brand of energy. The sound of waves lapping against the pilings mixed with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Wanda walked along the weathered wooden boards, her soft summer skirt twisting and snapping in the ocean breeze. Strings of fairy lights hung between the posts of waterfront restaurants, their reflections shimmering in the dark water below. The air smelled of fried food, saltwater, and the faint tang of gasoline drifting from nearby boat rental stands.

She passed a souvenir shop, its windows crammed with snow globes, gaudy seashell necklaces, and T-shirts printed with slogans like I Survived the Santa Carla Summer! Farther down, a man with wild gray hair and a tie-dye shirt stood atop a crate, gesturing wildly as he shouted into the night about peace, love, and some convoluted conspiracy involving UFOs and the local mayor. Wanda slowed her pace, amused by the spectacle.

Nearby, a tourist couple paused, watching the man with wide-eyed curiosity. Wanda stepped closer to them, her voice light and teasing as she said, “I think I dated that guy once.”

The couple laughed, startled, and Wanda smiled briefly before moving on. They melted into the crowd, swept away by the flow of people enjoying the warm summer evening.

Her smile faded as she approached a weathered kiosk plastered with layers of flyers. Most of them were the usual clutter—ads for fishing charters, yoga classes, and overpriced apartments—but it was the other flyers, the ones with grainy, faded photos of missing children, that gave her pause.

She stopped, her eyes scanning the rows of somber faces staring back at her. A woman was standing nearby, taping up a new flyer. Wanda glanced at it. This one wasn’t for a child. It was a man—a security guard, his round, friendly face frozen in a photograph that seemed too cheerful for the bold “MISSING” written above it.

Their eyes met briefly. Wanda gave the woman a small, understanding nod, her expression softening with shared sadness, before moving on. She barely glanced at the "HELP WANTED" sign taped to the window of a nearby restaurant before something else caught her attention—a boy, maybe six or seven years old, standing alone in the swirl of tourists.

His small figure stood out, still and unsure amid the constant motion of the crowd. Wanda hesitated, scanning the area for someone who might belong to him. No one came forward. Her heart squeezed as she approached him, crouching down to his level.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice gentle but steady. “Are you lost?”

The boy nodded, his eyes wide and glassy. His lip trembled, and Wanda could see the fear creeping up on him like a storm cloud.

“It’s okay,” she said, holding out her hand. “We’ll find whoever you’re looking for, I promise.”

The boy slipped his small hand into hers, and Wanda led him carefully through the throng of tourists. Her eyes darted from face to face, searching for someone who might be panicking, calling out a name, looking for this boy. But no one seemed to notice.

The glow of a neon sign caught her attention—a video store with the words REWIND PARADISE flashing in bright pink and blue. She pushed open the door, the buzzer overhead letting out a sharp metallic ding.

The store smelled faintly of dust and nostalgia. It was a strange mishmash of glossy VHS tapes, fading movie posters, and shelves of kitschy souvenirs. Dozens of small TVs mounted along the walls played a chaotic mix of cartoons, music videos, and movie trailers. Their colors bled together, turning the air into a kaleidoscope of light.

Behind the counter, Hoseok Jung looked up, his face breaking into a wide grin when he saw Wanda. Hoseok was younger than most business owners in town, with an easy smile and a perpetually relaxed demeanor.

“Wanda!” he greeted warmly, his hands resting on the counter. But before he could say more, the buzzer sounded again.

A group of boys sauntered in, their entrance marked by loud, cocky laughter. They moved with practiced swagger, dressed in leather jackets and ripped jeans, their energy brash and unapologetic. At the head of the group was Jimin, his sharp smile brimming with mischief.

Hoseok’s expression hardened instantly. “I told you not to come in here anymore,” he said, his voice firm but calm.

Jimin just smiled wider, unbothered. He led his crew deeper into the store, their boots scuffing loudly against the floor.

Wanda stepped forward, the little boy still clutching her hand. “This boy seems to be lost,” she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the tension.

Before Hoseok could respond, the door flew open again, and a young woman burst inside. Her face was flushed with panic, her eyes wild until they landed on the boy.

“Terry!” she cried, rushing forward to scoop him into her arms. Her relief was palpable as she hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face. She turned to Wanda and Hoseok, thanking them over and over, her voice shaking.

Hoseok handed the boy a lollipop from a jar on the counter, giving him a kind smile before the two of them disappeared back into the night.

Then, with a playful flourish, he held another lollipop out to Wanda. “For you.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, thanks,” she said, smiling.

As she turned back to the door, the Lost Boys shuffled past, their presence leaving a faint charge in the air. Jimin lingered for a second, his sharp eyes flicking to Hoseok before he followed his crew outside.

“They’re just kids,” Wanda said, watching as the boys climbed onto their bikes, revving the engines before roaring off into the night.

“Wild kids,” Hoseok corrected, leaning casually against the counter.

Wanda’s lips curved into a wry smile. “We were wild once too. Only they dress better.”

Hoseok chuckled, his smile softening. “You’ve got a generous nature, Wanda. I like that in a person. My name’s Hoseok.”

“Wanda,” she replied, her tone light but sincere.

“So,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “what brings you into my fine establishment? Looking for a tape? I’ve got the best selection in Santa Carla.”

She shook her head. “Not looking for a tape.” She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the counter. “What I need is—”

“A job,” Hoseok finished for her, his knowing grin widening.

Wanda sighed, half-laughing. “Do I look that desperate?”

“Desperate? Nah,” he said, waving a hand. “But you’ve got that look.”

Meanwhile, back on the boardwalk, Jungkook was still moving, weaving through the thick, lively crowd as though propelled by some invisible force. Jung-Hyun trailed behind him, his sneakers scuffing against the wooden planks in protest. The boardwalk was alive, bursting with sound and energy—music blared from arcades, vendors shouted about hot dogs and funnel cakes, and the occasional scream from a rollercoaster in the distance punctuated the cacophony.

“Where are we going?” Jung-Hyun demanded, his tone a mixture of irritation and confusion as he tried to match Jungkook’s pace.

“Nowhere,” Jungkook said distractedly, his eyes scanning every corner of the bustling boardwalk.

“Then why the rush?” Jung-Hyun huffed, throwing his arms up dramatically. He finally pieced it together, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook’s focused expression. “You’re chasing that girl, aren’t you? Just admit it! I’m at the mercy of your sex glands!”

Jungkook didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him. He simply picked up his pace, his head turning side to side as though he might spot her any second.

Jung-Hyun groaned, finally grinding to a halt. “You’re unbelievable. Chasing some random girl through a crowd like you’re in a bad romance movie. You know what? Forget it. I’ve got better things to do than play sidekick in your hormonal escapades.”

Jungkook barely acknowledged him, muttering, “Then go.” His attention was glued to the sea of faces ahead, his heart pounding as if she might be just around the next corner.

Rolling his eyes, Jung-Hyun turned on his heel and wandered toward a small, cluttered storefront that had caught his eye. Above the doorway hung a crooked sign that read Collector’s Den Comics and Oddities. The window display was crammed with stacks of faded comics, dusty action figures, and cardboard cutouts of superheroes whose colors had long since faded in the sun.

The inside of the shop was dimly lit and smelled like old paper and wood polish, the air heavy with nostalgia. The faint sound of a box fan hummed from somewhere in the back. Jung-Hyun stepped inside, the buzz of the boardwalk fading into a muffled background hum. He wandered the narrow aisles, his fingers grazing over the spines of comic books lined up in rows. Each one seemed to whisper a story, waiting to be uncovered.

As he turned a corner, he spotted two boys hunched over a large box of comics. They were lean, sharp-featured, and looked like they’d walked straight out of an action movie, all leather jackets and cocky attitudes. They moved with an air of self-importance, stacking comics on the shelves as though the task were life or death.

“You can’t put Superman DC #3400 with the #500s,” Jung-Hyun said casually, stopping in his tracks and pointing to the offending stack. “Different artist. Different era.”

The two boys froze, their heads snapping up to stare at him. It was as though he’d spoken some forbidden language. One of them, the taller of the two with sharp cheekbones and hair that flopped into his eyes, frowned and leaned closer to inspect the comics in question.

“He’s right,” Seokjin muttered, nudging the other boy, Namjoon.

Namjoon’s face twisted in annoyance. “Great. A critic,” he grumbled but began rearranging the stack begrudgingly.

Jung-Hyun smirked, stepping closer and glancing at the shelves around them. “And those Archies? Yeah, they don’t belong here. They go with the Richie Rich comics. Over there.” He pointed to the far corner of the store.

Namjoon shot him a look that could curdle milk. “Where the hell are you from, Krypton?”

“Phoenix, actually,” Jung-Hyun replied without missing a beat, clearly unbothered by the hostility. He reached out to pick up a nearby comic, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. “And no, I’m not just passing through. I’m a resident as of today. So yeah, you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and reached for a comic off the shelf. He thrust it into Jung-Hyun’s hands with a little too much force.

“If you’re gonna live here,” Namjoon said, his tone clipped, “you’ll need this.”

Jung-Hyun glanced down at the cover. Vampires Everywhere, the title screamed in bold red letters, the art depicting a grotesque vampire with sharp fangs and glowing red eyes.

“I don’t like horror comics,” Jung-Hyun said, holding it back out toward Namjoon.

Seokjin, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly smirked. His expression was knowing, almost conspiratorial. “This one isn’t for fun,” he said, his voice low. “It’s for survival.”

Jung-Hyun raised an eyebrow, unsure if they were messing with him or if they were just that weird. Namjoon didn’t elaborate, just gave him a long, unreadable look before turning back to the box of comics.

“Okay,” Jung-Hyun said slowly, setting the comic down on a nearby stack. “Well, thanks for the… advice?”

Namjoon didn’t look up, but Seokjin gave him a sly smile. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

Feeling more puzzled than ever, Jung-Hyun turned and made his way back toward the front of the store. The boardwalk’s noise greeted him as he stepped outside, but he couldn’t shake the strange, lingering tension he’d felt in the shop.

Out on the boardwalk, Jungkook was still nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, Jung-Hyun stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked right back inside. The comic shop boys’ cryptic words buzzed faintly in the back of his mind, but he shook them off. This town was already weird enough without adding cryptic warnings about horror comics into the mix.

The boardwalk came alive at night, a kaleidoscope of lights, noise, and energy that felt almost electric. It was a place where the ordinary became extraordinary—where the sea breeze carried not just the scent of salt and funnel cakes but the promise of something strange and fleeting, something that could only happen here. Jungkook moved through the crowd with a quiet determination, his pace steady but purposeful. His eyes swept over the faces, the swirl of colors, the dizzying spin of carnival rides in the distance, all of it blurring into a background that didn’t matter. He was looking for her.

The music spilling from the rides and arcades thumped faintly in his chest, the sound layered with the shouts of vendors, the laughter of teenagers, and the occasional crash of the ocean against the shore. The air tasted alive, charged, and Jungkook inhaled deeply, his heart hammering in sync with the chaotic rhythm around him.

It wasn’t hard to spot her. Even in the sea of people, she stood out, moving through the chaos like a ripple of calm in a storm. There was something about her—something in the way she walked, like she existed on the edges of the world, separate and untouchable, carrying a quiet grace that the noise couldn’t reach. Beside her, the boy stayed close, clutching her hand as if it were his anchor. His wide, nervous eyes darted around, not quite fitting in with the dazzling, almost surreal energy of the boardwalk.

Jungkook trailed behind them, keeping a careful distance. He told himself it wasn’t obvious—just a passing coincidence that he happened to be walking the same direction. But the truth was harder to deny with each step he took. His heart pounded, louder than the music, louder than the carnival barker shouting about ring toss prizes. He didn’t know what he was going to say if he caught up to her, or even if he should say anything at all. Yet the idea of letting her slip away, of losing her in this sea of strangers, felt unbearable.

She stopped suddenly, turning on her heel so sharply that Jungkook nearly stumbled. Her eyes locked onto his, cutting straight through the crowd, the noise, the distance. They were steady and unflinching, a quiet challenge that made his breath catch.

“Are you following me?” she asked, her voice clear and calm, slicing through the din like a blade.

Jungkook froze. For a moment, he was nothing but a deer caught in headlights, all his bravado crumbling in the face of her directness. “Well, I...” he began, his voice faltering as the words tangled in his throat.

Her head tilted slightly, her expression more curious than hostile. She wasn’t accusing him—she was asking. It gave him just enough courage to speak.

“Did you want to talk to me?” she prompted when he hesitated, her tone laced with faint amusement, like she was humoring him.

He swallowed hard, scrambling for something to say. “Yeah. Sure. I mean—yeah.”

Her eyebrows lifted expectantly, her gaze steady as she waited. “Okay. Talk.”

Jungkook’s mind went blank. He wanted to say something meaningful, something that would make her stay, something that would explain why he felt like the world had tilted when he first saw her. But all he could manage was, “I, uh... I just thought you looked... different.”

Her lips curved, just barely, into the faintest hint of a smile. It wasn’t mockery; it was curiosity. Before he could say anything else—before he could even begin to gather his thoughts—Jung-Hyun appeared at his side, panting and clutching a comic book like it was a prize he’d fought to win.

“Mom’s here,” Jung-Hyun announced, his voice cutting through the moment with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

The girl’s gaze flicked to Jung-Hyun, then to the comic in his hands. The almost-smile returned, softer this time, and she looked back at Jungkook. “Nice talking to you,” she said, her voice teasing but not unkind. Then she turned, the boy beside her clinging to her hand as they melted back into the crowd.

Jungkook stood rooted to the spot, watching her disappear until the lights and movement swallowed her whole. He let out a slow breath, his chest tight, his heart still hammering as though he’d run a mile.

Later, Jungkook leaned against the family’s battered Rover, arguing with Wanda while Jung-Hyun climbed into the backseat, already thumbing through his newly acquired comic.

“It’s early,” Jungkook protested, crossing his arms. “Why do we have to leave already?”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Early? It’s past ten, Jungkook. Bring your own wheels tomorrow night, and you can stay as long as you want. Well—until eleven thirty. Maybe.”

“I’ll hitch,” Jungkook shot back, his tone challenging.

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Wanda retorted, her arms folding across her chest in a way that brooked no argument.

From inside the car, Jung-Hyun chimed in with a smirk, his voice light and teasing. “Mom, you hitched all the way to Berkeley once, remember?”

Jungkook seized the opening immediately. “Yeah, Mom!”

Wanda sighed, shaking her head but unable to hide the flicker of amusement on her face. “Five minutes,” she relented finally, pointing a finger at him for emphasis. “Five. And if you’re not back by then, I’m leaving without you.”

Jungkook didn’t wait for her to change her mind. He was already disappearing into the crowd, his heart racing as he retraced his steps.

From the backseat, Jung-Hyun leaned out the window, grinning knowingly. “He met a girl,” he said, his tone dripping with mischief.

Wanda rolled her eyes, pulling the driver’s door open and sliding into the seat. “I guess no one cares that I got a job today.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t miss a beat. “Can we get a TV now?” he asked, deadpan.

Wanda laughed despite herself, shaking her head as she started the car. “Priorities, I swear.”

Jungkook’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back onto the boardwalk, his eyes scanning the familiar yet chaotic scene. The noise and colors blurred around him, but his gaze was fixed on her, the girl who seemed to haunt his thoughts even when she wasn’t there. He’d caught glimpses of her throughout the night, like an elusive shadow dancing on the edge of his perception, but this time, he knew he was close. He could feel it in the way his pulse quickened, the way his steps moved a little faster, almost instinctively, as if his body knew exactly where he was headed.

And then, there she was again, standing near the edge of the boardwalk. But this time, she wasn’t alone.

A group of boys surrounded her, each one with a presence that seemed to carve out space in the world around them. Their laughter was loud, reckless, the kind that echoed off the boardwalk like a challenge thrown out to the universe. They wore leather jackets, the worn, well-loved kind that had seen a thousand nights under neon lights. Their motorcycles were parked haphazardly nearby, engines still warm from the ride, the chrome shining in the streetlights like predators waiting to pounce.

Jungkook’s stomach tightened, the familiar knot of unease twisting deeper inside him. He stopped in his tracks, just a few steps away from the group, watching her. She was standing with them, her hand resting lightly on Moon’s shoulder—his girl, it seemed—but there was something about her that didn’t quite fit. Something in the way she stood, the way her eyes lingered a little too long on the horizon, as though she were somewhere else, somewhere apart from the chaos that swirled around her. She didn’t belong to them, not entirely. Not the way they belonged to each other.

Jungkook’s presence didn’t go unnoticed. The boys all turned their eyes toward him, their stares cutting through the noise. Their expressions were unreadable, too cool to be bothered, yet there was something about the way they looked at him that made his skin crawl. It wasn’t hostility, not the kind he’d expected. It was worse. It was indifference. They didn’t see him as a threat. They didn’t see him as anything at all.

A man with bright blonde hair, sharp features that could have belonged to a movie star, swung a leg over one of the bikes. His movements were smooth, practiced, like he had done this a thousand times before. His eyes found Jungkook’s for a split second, a look that seemed to say everything and nothing all at once. Without a word, he revved the engine, the sound booming in the night air like a challenge to the world itself.

The girl, his girl, climbed onto the bike behind him. She slid her arms around his waist, and for a brief moment, Jungkook saw something flicker in her eyes—a glance, a fleeting connection that made his heart tighten, his breath catch. It was there, and then it was gone, replaced by the cool, disinterested mask she wore whenever she was surrounded by them. She glanced back at him just before they roared off, the sound of the engine growing louder, pulling them into the night. A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, something soft, almost wistful, before she disappeared into the dark expanse of the boardwalk.

Jungkook stood frozen in place, his heart still pounding in his chest. The sound of the motorcycles faded into the distance, but it felt like an eternity had passed. The bright lights of the boardwalk seemed to blur, the edges of his vision fading as the night swallowed everything around him. For a moment, he felt like the last person left on Earth. Like the world had moved on without him, leaving him behind to stand in the silence.

The laughter, the chatter, the music—everything that had once felt so alive now seemed distant, almost hollow. Jungkook's gaze remained fixed on the spot where they had disappeared, the empty space where she had just been. His mind raced, chasing the echoes of her smile, the way she had looked at him, and the way everything had slipped away just as quickly as it had appeared.

He didn’t know why he had followed her, why he couldn’t let her go. It wasn’t like him to get caught up in something so... fleeting. But now, standing alone in the middle of the boardwalk, he realized that what he had seen wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was something deeper, something that had grabbed hold of him when he wasn’t looking. Something he couldn’t quite understand yet.

But as the lights flickered around him and the boardwalk buzzed with life, Jungkook knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t the last time he would see her. Somehow, he was certain of it.

The early morning air on the beach felt cool and crisp, the first light of dawn filtering through the haze of leftover smoke from the bonfires the night before. The sand was still warm in places, remnants of the heat that had radiated through the night, but now it was peaceful, with only the faint hum of the ocean and the occasional rustle of blankets from the few runaways still curled up on the dunes, trying to capture a few more hours of sleep.

Jungkook parked his bike near the surf rental shack, the familiar crunch of gravel beneath the tires a comforting sound. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jung-Hyun trailing behind him, dragging his surfboard in the sand like it was the heaviest thing he’d ever carried. His little brother wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here, but Jungkook had made sure to bring him along. They had always stuck together, no matter how much they teased or picked on each other. A day at the beach might’ve seemed like the last place a kid his age would want to be, but Jungkook wasn’t about to let that stop him.

Jung-Hyun sighed loudly, his voice a little more dramatic than necessary. “Do I have to do this? The ocean’s not going anywhere, you know.”

Jungkook shot him a grin, clearly enjoying the torment. “Come on, Jung-Hyun. You know, before there were malls, there was, like... the ocean,” he said, his tone almost as if he were describing some great unknown frontier, the kind of thing that would make any kid curious—if they could just get over how terrible the idea sounded at first.

Jung-Hyun didn’t seem convinced. He rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering something under his breath that Jungkook didn’t catch, but he could guess. With a sigh that was as deep as the ocean itself, Jung-Hyun reluctantly grabbed his wetsuit, pulling it on with a little too much effort, like he was preparing to enter battle.

Jungkook watched him for a second before shaking his head, unable to hold back a small laugh. “You know, if you actually wanted to be good at this, you’d have to stop complaining,” he teased, pulling his board out from the shack.

Jung-Hyun stuck his tongue out at him, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. Despite the teasing, despite the near-constant bickering, there wasn’t anyone Jungkook would rather have by his side. Even if the age gap between them was huge—Jungkook was 18, and Jung-Hyun was just 11—the bond between them was undeniable.

Jungkook led the way into the water, his athleticism taking over as he practically glided across the waves. Despite not being a surfing pro, he was fast, and his natural skill at almost anything he tried was evident as he carved through the waves with ease. For a few moments, as the saltwater sprayed his face and the waves rolled beneath his board, he forgot about everything—the mess of the town, the confusion he sometimes felt in this new place, and even the girl who seemed to slip through his thoughts every time he thought he had a grasp on her. For those brief, blissful moments, there was nothing but the water, the board, and the rush of freedom.

Jung-Hyun, on the other hand, was having a less graceful time. He tried—oh, how he tried—but after a few disastrous attempts, his board more often than not ended up nose-first in the sand, and he sat down on the shore, scowling but secretly amused at his own inability to catch a wave. His eyes never strayed too far from Jungkook, though. There was a mixture of admiration and envy on his face, his gaze flicking between his older brother and the sea, wishing that just once, he could do it too.

Even the seals on the rocks seemed more impressed with Jungkook’s natural ease, letting out loud barks that, to Jungkook’s ears, almost sounded like laughter.

Still, no matter how frustrated Jung-Hyun got, he never complained. He always stuck by Jungkook, no matter how much he might grumble about it. The teasing, the poking fun—it was all part of their relationship, the way they understood each other without even having to say a word. Jungkook might have been the older brother, but they were equals in their own way, and they had each other’s backs no matter what.

That was, until the local crew showed up.

The Swell Brigade—the so-called kings of the beach—rolled in, cutting through the waves like they owned the ocean. Greg, the leader, was the first to spot Jungkook. With his wild hair and too-wide grin, he didn’t waste any time making his presence known. “My beach, my wave, dude,” he called out, cutting directly in front of Jungkook with a smirk that could only be described as the type of arrogance that came with knowing exactly how to rattle someone.

Before Jungkook could even react, the wave he had been riding disappeared beneath him. He wiped out spectacularly, falling hard into the water, the surfboard slipping out from under him in a tangle of limbs. From the shore, the seals barked again, their noisy calls sounding like they were laughing at him as the cold water rushed over his body.

Jung-Hyun couldn’t help but laugh from the beach, watching as his brother struggled to get back on his feet. “Guess it’s not just the ocean you have to fight against, huh?” he teased, clearly enjoying the rare moment of seeing Jungkook falter.

Jungkook pushed himself up, wiping the saltwater out of his eyes with a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. I’ll get you next time,” he called back, unbothered by the teasing. He was more focused on getting back out there. But as he paddled back into the surf, he caught his brother’s gaze, and for a brief second, Jungkook saw the admiration and the unspoken bond between them in his younger sibling’s eyes. It was always the same, no matter how many times they picked on each other—at the end of the day, they were in it together.

As the golden light of dusk began to fade into evening, Wanda stood behind the counter of the video store, her first day on the job stretching on just a little longer. The familiar scent of popcorn, old films, and a faint hint of mildew clung to the air. The hum of the neon sign outside cast a soft glow over the aisles lined with dusty VHS tapes. Maria, the sharp-dressed cashier who had taken her under her wing, leaned casually against the counter beside her. Maria was effortlessly cool in a way that Wanda admired, with her smart blazer and confident air. She had a quick smile and a sharp tongue, the kind of person who could talk her way out of anything.

Maria was giving Wanda a crash course in customer service, showing her the register’s buttons, explaining the peculiarities of their outdated card reader, and sharing odd bits of advice about the regular customers.

“I’d be out on the street if it wasn’t for Hoseok,” Maria said, tapping a fingernail against the countertop absentmindedly. “Nobody would’ve given me a job the way I looked when I walked in here. But he doesn’t care about that. He saw something in me. And now�� well, here I am. Making it work.”

Wanda nodded, genuinely impressed. “He sounds like a good guy.”

Maria smirked, eyes glinting. “You’ll find out for yourself. He’s got his quirks, but he’s loyal. If you work for him, you’re family.”

Wanda glanced around the store, her curiosity piqued. “I haven’t seen him all day. Is he coming by soon?”

Maria shrugged, one eyebrow raised. “He only comes in at night, usually. He’s busy opening another store in Los Gatos. It’s much bigger than this one.” She made a motion with her hands as if to indicate something grand, perhaps a new adventure in the making. “You know, he’s been working on that for months. I swear, if I had that much on my plate, I’d be pulling my hair out. But he seems to handle it all. Like, no sweat.”

Wanda let out a breath, both fascinated and exhausted just thinking about it. Running a business—especially more than one—had to be overwhelming. Still, something about the way Maria spoke about Hoseok made it clear that there was a respect, maybe even an affection, there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle engine pulling up outside, its roar familiar. She turned her head, squinting through the window to see Jungkook and Jung-Hyun rolling up to the curb on Jungkook’s bike. The older of the two leaned against the handlebars as the engine sputtered to a stop.

“I’ll be right back,” Wanda muttered, glancing at Maria for a quick second. Maria just gave her a thumbs-up, then settled back against the counter.

Wanda stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against her skin. She took a few strides toward the boys, a smile already forming on her face as she saw Jung-Hyun hop off the bike with his usual energy, nearly tripping over the kickstand as he rushed to the sidewalk.

Jungkook, however, didn’t immediately get off. He kept the engine running, his face blank but his eyes scanning the area, as if he had somewhere else he needed to be.

“Hey!” Wanda greeted, hands on her hips as she tried to gauge his mood. “I get off in twenty minutes. I thought maybe we could all grab a bite together.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shook his head without hesitation, voice flat as he said, “I’ll pass.”

Wanda opened her mouth to protest, but before she could string together an argument, Jungkook revved the engine, the loud rumble filling the air. Without another word, he peeled off into the night, tires screeching briefly before he was swallowed up by the darkness.

Wanda watched him go, the warm glow of the store lights behind her seeming to pulse in rhythm with the pang of disappointment in her chest. She exhaled slowly, trying not to feel rejected. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d brushed her off.

Jung-Hyun, still standing at her side, turned to look at her, a faint grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I guess we’re not eating together, huh?”

Wanda shot him a sidelong glance, trying to hide the sudden melancholy. “Looks like it,” she said, trying to make it sound casual, but she could feel the slight sting at the back of her throat.

Jung-Hyun’s grin widened, though, as he elbowed her gently, his usual energy filling the space between them. “Well, maybe you’re better off. I mean, who wants to eat with that guy anyway?” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of concern there too. Even though he was younger, Jung-Hyun could always tell when things weren’t quite right, even when Wanda did her best to hide it.

Wanda laughed softly, her attention now fully on him. “Oh, don’t pretend you’re on my side. You’re probably just as bad as he is.”

Jung-Hyun gave her an exaggerated look of mock offense. “What? I’m the good brother,” he protested, raising his hands as though in surrender. “You can’t blame me for his bad attitude. I’m a perfectly good influence.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She glanced back toward the video store, the lights from inside casting long shadows along the sidewalk. “Come on. Let’s head inside. I have to finish my shift.”

“Right,” Jung-Hyun said with a dramatic sigh, pulling at the collar of his jacket as he followed her inside. “Guess we’ll have to find someone else to eat with.”

Wanda watched him disappear inside the store, and as she followed, her thoughts lingered on Jungkook. She wasn’t sure why his rejection stung so much. Maybe it was because she had hoped, even if just for a moment, that he might have changed his mind about her. Or maybe she was just too tired of being alone in a place that still felt unfamiliar. Either way, for now, she had to focus on her job, on the small, familiar comfort of being needed.

She let out a breath, adjusting the collar of her work shirt. Tomorrow’s another day.

Jungkook adjusted the black leather jacket for the third time, tugging at the sleeves as he studied his reflection in the cracked mirror propped haphazardly against the wall of the punk shop. The leather was still stiff, the smell of newness mixed with a faint scent of the store itself. But when he looked at it—really looked—he felt something shift, like it was made just for him. The jacket fit perfectly, hugging his shoulders and waist in just the right way, like it was a part of him that he’d only just discovered.

He tested its weight by rolling his shoulders, checking how the leather moved with him, how it felt almost like a second skin. He liked it. He liked how it gave him a sense of rawness, a sense of belonging in this strange new town. The boys from the pier would wear something like this. It made him feel... dangerous, in a way that he didn’t mind at all.

After a final glance at himself, he stepped outside, the bustling energy of the boardwalk hitting him immediately. The bright lights, the laughter of strangers, the clink of coins being dropped into machines. The smell of fried dough and sunscreen hung thick in the warm evening air, mixing with the salty ocean breeze. The world felt alive around him, buzzing with an almost magnetic energy that was as much a part of him as the jacket he was wearing.

Jungkook adjusted his boots, feeling the familiar thrum of excitement that came with a night out on the pier. But something shifted as he walked, a quiet hum under his skin, like there was something else in the air. As his boots clicked against the wooden planks, his gaze flicked to a piercing stand nearby, a sharp glint catching his attention. He stopped for a moment, looking at the needle glistening under the lights.

A silver hoop, maybe. Or a stud. He imagined it in his ear, how it might change his look, give him something new.

“It’s a rip-off,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, cutting through the noise around him.

Jungkook turned, blinking in surprise. There, just behind him, was the girl. Y/N. She stood effortlessly in the glow of the boardwalk lights, her hair catching the neon hues, her lips pulled into a teasing smile. He felt a flicker of warmth in his chest at the sight of her.

“Hi,” he managed, his voice coming out a little softer, a little more breathless than he meant it to. It was a little too loud in contrast to how quiet the moment felt.

“If you want your ear pierced,” she said, as casual as if she were talking about the weather, “I’ll do it.”

Jungkook blinked, not sure if she was serious or just teasing him, but when she began walking, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He was already following her, a pull in his chest guiding him toward wherever she was going.

“What’s your name?” he asked, matching her pace, his curiosity about her growing with each step.

“Y/N,” she replied simply, glancing at him sideways, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “My mom called me Star, but that was a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Jungkook chuckled, a grin creeping up on his face. “Your folks, too, huh?”

Her eyes flicked over to him, the corner of her lips dropping just a bit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly realizing how personal that was. “Ex-hippies,” he clarified with a shrug. “My mom was one. I came this close to being called Moon Child. Or Moon Beam. Or something like that.”

Y/N's lips quirked up in amusement, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “But you’re Jungkook?”

“Yeah,” he said, the grin widening on his face, not even trying to hide the joy of the moment. “But Y/N’s great. I like Y/N.”

Her smile softened, her eyes not leaving his as she spoke with a quiet warmth. “Me too.”

Jungkook felt something—he couldn’t quite place it—flutter in his chest, like he’d just taken a step closer to something real, something important. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like they’d already crossed some invisible line, something that made him feel oddly at ease around her. More comfortable than he’d ever felt with someone he barely knew.

“I’m Jungkook,” he said, almost as if the words had slipped out without him thinking about them.

Y/N glanced at him again, her smile growing wider as she echoed his tone, mirroring his playful inflection. “Jungkook’s great. I like Jungkook.”

The simple words, said with such lightness, made Jungkook’s heart skip. She wasn’t trying to impress him or charm him—she was just being herself, and something about it felt effortless. Almost like he was meant to be here, walking beside her, sharing this strange, beautiful little moment.

They walked in silence for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like they had known each other for years. He could feel the space between them closing with each step they took, and the more they walked, the more he realized just how easy it felt to be around her.

“I guess you’re new around here,” she said, breaking the silence, her voice as steady as ever.

“Sort of,” Jungkook replied, glancing over at her, feeling that tug of connection again. “We used to come here in the summers when I was a kid. Now we’re here... permanently.”

Y/N’s eyes softened a little, and Jungkook could almost feel the quiet happiness that flickered across her face. It was subtle, but there—like she was glad to hear it, glad to know he wasn’t just passing through.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his nerves catching up to him for a second. But before he could second-guess himself, he added, “Wanna get something to eat?”

She tilted her head slightly, like she was considering it for a moment. Her gaze locked onto his with an intensity that almost made him forget how to breathe, but when she spoke, her voice was light, almost teasing. “Okay.”

The simple word—so casual, so effortless—made Jungkook’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. But he didn’t have to. All that mattered was that they were walking together, side by side, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

They walked side by side, their footsteps falling into a rhythm that seemed too easy to be real. The boardwalk lights flickered above them, casting long shadows that stretched and swayed like ghosts across the weathered wood beneath their feet. But the flicker of the lights, the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees—they didn’t matter. Nothing around them seemed to matter. It was just the two of them, the distance between them narrowing with each step, each shared glance, each word.

Jungkook couldn’t quite place it, the feeling gnawing at him. It wasn’t bad, but it was strange. They’d only just met, yet already, it felt like he’d known her for years. There was something about Y/N that made him feel like he was coming home to something familiar—something he didn’t know he was missing. Maybe it was the way she was so effortlessly herself, so sure of her place in the world. She didn’t seem rushed, didn’t seem burdened by the small things that typically weighed him down. And that made him feel lighter somehow, as if it was okay to just exist in the same space without needing anything to be different.

He could feel the pull to be around her without even trying. And the way she teased him—it wasn’t mocking, but a game. A game he wasn’t quite sure how to play, but he wanted to learn.

"So," Jungkook said, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence. "You really think you can pierce my ear?"

Y/N’s lips curved into that mischievous smile, the one that always made his stomach do that little flip. She glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling with a challenge. "Why not? I’ve got a steady hand." She said it with such confidence that for a moment, he almost believed her. Almost.

"I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea," Jungkook said, his voice betraying a laugh that bubbled up before he could stop it. "What if you give me an infection or something?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the playful seriousness of her expression making it hard to tell whether she was joking or not. "Well, Jungkook, if you want to not look like a total badass, that’s on you. But if you want to wear a hoop like a rock star, you’ve gotta risk it."

Jungkook snorted, the joke wasn’t even that funny, but the way she delivered it—so deadpan and serious—made it hilarious. It wasn’t just a laugh; it was a real laugh. The kind that made his chest warm and his stomach hurt in the best possible way. He hadn’t realized how much he needed something like that until it happened.

The distance between them continued to shrink, their laughter and easy conversation weaving the space between them into something comfortable, something almost… familiar. She didn’t mind his jokes, or the fact that sometimes, he wasn’t as quick with the witty remarks as she was. Instead, she laughed, genuinely, because she liked the way he saw things. And with every word exchanged, every laugh shared, Jungkook felt it—a pull, something deeper than just curiosity. He wanted to know more, not just about her, but about her, the kind of knowing that didn’t come with explanations.

"So," Jungkook said, his voice softening, the playful tone gone as quickly as it came. "Tell me about yourself. What’s your story? I mean, we’re talking about my potential ear piercing, but I don’t even know where you’re from."

Y/N’s expression shifted, her eyes losing focus for a moment, as if she were thinking about what to say. She wasn’t a stranger to silence, to careful words. He could tell that much. And when she spoke, her voice was quieter, the words more measured, as though each one held some kind of weight.

"I’m from Portland," she said, as if it was nothing, as if it was something everyone knew, and maybe it was, in her world.

She shrugged a little, the motion easy, but Jungkook could feel the tension in it, the way it tugged at her—she wasn’t giving him the whole story. And that was fine. He wasn’t in a rush to have her spill everything all at once. He could wait.

"And your parents?" he asked, curiosity slipping out before he had a chance to stop it.

Y/N’s smile twisted into something wry, and for the first time, she looked like someone who was used to telling stories she didn’t quite want to share. "Eh," she said. "My mom’s a character. You’d probably get along with her—she’s all about living life on the edge, never sticking to the rules. But she’s also a bit of a hippie. She’s got this whole free spirit thing going on. Dad’s the opposite. My brother is… indifferent, for the most part. He was my only friend for a while."

Jungkook’s grin matched hers, the corners of his mouth pulling upward in a way that felt good. "Sounds like my kind of people."

Y/N’s eyes glinted with amusement. "I thought you might say that," she teased, her voice dropping into that same playful rhythm. "So, what about you? You’ve got the whole ‘tough guy in a leather jacket’ vibe going on. What’s your deal?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips couldn’t be suppressed. "I’m not tough. You just haven’t seen me cry yet."

Y/N’s laugh was loud and unrestrained. The kind of laugh that didn’t just fill the space—it took over it. Jungkook felt a warmth spread through his chest, something real and unforced. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t because she had to. It was because she wanted to. She threw her head back, the sound of her laugh making her seem so much more carefree, so much more alive. In that moment, she wasn’t trying to hide anything. She wasn’t holding back.

"Yeah, I can see that," she said, still laughing. "You’re definitely more ‘brooding tough guy’ than ‘vulnerable softie.’"

"I can be soft," Jungkook protested, laughing at himself. "You just haven’t seen it yet."

"I’ll take your word for it," she replied, her eyes sparkling with something deeper now, something that felt like understanding. Maybe even acceptance.

The conversation shifted back into something easy, something familiar. Neither of them seemed to be in a rush to get to the car. The walk, which should have been a mere ten minutes, felt like it stretched into hours. Every moment between them felt too significant to let go of too quickly. Every glance, every word, every shared silence was like a promise. And Jungkook realized, somewhere in the middle of all of it, how strange it was—how close he already felt to her.

It wasn’t just the jokes, or the teasing, or the stories they shared. It was something else. Something deeper. It was the way she understood him, without him having to explain it. The way she seemed to know when he was holding back and when he needed to laugh, even when the joke wasn’t all that funny. She just… got him. In a way that didn’t require any kind of explanation, and for the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt that same understanding reflected back at him.

"You really know how to make me laugh," he said, his voice low, the words slipping out before he had a chance to think them through.

Y/N glanced at him sideways, surprise flashing across her face, before a small, shy smile tugged at her lips. "I’m glad I’m good for something."

Jungkook stopped walking for a moment, turning to face her fully. His words came out before he had a chance to consider the weight of them. "You’re good for a lot more than that."

Y/N looked up at him then, her gaze steady, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. The sounds around them faded, the air thickened, and it was just the two of them, standing on the boardwalk, looking at each other like they were seeing something more than just the surface.

They didn’t move, didn’t speak for a few moments. The soft hum of the boardwalk was the only sound that remained. The lights overhead flickered in time with their steps, their rhythm so naturally synced it felt like they’d been walking together for years.

"So, Oregon, huh?" Jungkook asked, breaking the silence, his voice quieter now, a little softer.

Y/N stiffened just a fraction, only for a second, before she shook it off, her lips pressing together, as if the mention of home held more than she was ready to share.

"Yeah," she said after a beat, her tone casual but guarded. "It’s beautiful there, you know? The forests, the coast. It’s like a different world."

Jungkook nodded, sensing the hesitation in her voice. He didn’t push it. "Sounds nice. I’ve always wanted to go, actually. Never had the chance."

Y/N’s gaze shifted ahead, her eyes becoming distant, and for a second, it felt like she was somewhere else entirely. Jungkook caught the faintest tension in her shoulders before she shrugged, as if shaking off whatever thoughts had clouded her mind. “It’s nice, yeah. But I mean, you know how it is. Home’s just a place, right?”

The way she said it made something inside him stir, like there was more she wasn’t saying. More she wasn’t ready to share. Jungkook’s instincts told him to be careful, but his curiosity pulled him closer, even if just for a moment. He took a half step toward her, trying not to crowd her space, but close enough to show he was genuinely interested. “Yeah,” he said slowly, not wanting to press too hard but feeling something pull at him. “So, what’s it like… leaving all that behind?”

She didn’t look at him right away. Her eyes stayed trained on the path ahead, and he could see her jaw tighten ever so slightly, like she was steeling herself against the question. But just as quickly, she relaxed, the tension in her posture easing. A half-laugh escaped her lips, and when she finally glanced at him, there was that playful spark in her eyes again. “You sound like an interview or something.”

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her tone. She grinned, and for a second, he was unsure whether to feel relieved or more confused. “It’s not that bad, really. People always think it’s this big dramatic thing. But it’s not. You just... leave, and then you figure things out.”

He didn’t press further. There was something in her voice that told him she wasn’t ready to unpack it all. Instead, he smiled and decided to pivot to safer ground. “So what about that piercing thing?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “You serious about giving me a piercing?”

Her smile widened, the teasing edge back in full force. “You really wanna know about my ear-piercing skills?” she asked with a playful challenge in her voice. “Okay, fine. I don’t have a license for it, but I promise I’m great with a needle. You trust me, right?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know, Y/N. I think I’ll pass on that one.”

They both chuckled, and the conversation flowed with that easy, back-and-forth rhythm that felt familiar despite the newness between them. It was like they were already comfortable with each other, as if they’d been doing this forever. But still, Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more beneath the surface of her words. The way she’d brushed off Oregon. The way her tone had shifted just a little too quickly when he’d asked about it. It made him wonder what she was really running from.

"Anyway," Y/N said, almost as if sensing the change in his thoughts, her voice light but the shift unmistakable. "What about you? How’d you end up here?"

Jungkook felt the weight of the question, and though a part of him wanted to keep the door open for her, to ask her about her story, he decided to answer first. After all, they were still strangers, and maybe it was too soon to dig deep into the stuff they both seemed to be hiding. He could feel the subtle distance between them now, but he didn’t mind. Not yet.

“Well,” he said, falling back into the easy rhythm of their conversation, “we used to come here for summers when I was a kid. But this time... it’s permanent. My family moved here recently.”

“Permanent, huh?” Y/N mused, her voice low, thoughtful. She glanced sideways at him, her smile soft but knowing. “That’s a big deal.”

Jungkook caught the look in her eyes, something like recognition, something like a shared understanding. She didn’t press, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew more about what “permanent” really meant than she was letting on. Instead of pushing, he laughed lightly, keeping the tone playful. “Yeah, same sob story as everyone else. Divorce, mom kept the kids, dad left never to be seen again, and we moved for a fresh start.”

For a moment, the silence between them felt like the weight of their unspoken stories hanging in the air. The conversation drifted on after that, touching on trivial things—movies they liked, music they both hated, the weirdness of growing up in a place that never quite felt like home. But even in those small moments, Jungkook felt like they were already sharing something deeper, something unspoken that didn’t need to be said. Every word, every glance, pulled him closer to her, like they were orbiting each other in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

They were almost to his bike when the sound of motorcycles roared into the parking lot, their engines loud and confident in the still night. The Lost Boys appeared in a rush of leather and chrome, the air around them thick with their presence. Moon was perched behind Yoongi, small but wiry, full of restless energy. Jimin’s Triumph gleamed under the boardwalk lights, its polished chrome a stark contrast to the dust and grit of the surrounding night.

Jungkook felt a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t need to count the bikes to know he was outnumbered. Outclassed.

Jimin’s gaze locked onto them, and more specifically, onto Y/N. “Where you going?” he asked, his voice casual but edged with something sharper, like a challenge that wasn’t quite obvious yet.

“For a ride,” Y/N replied, her tone even, unfazed.

Jimin tilted his head, his lip curling into a smirk, half amusement, half something else. “With him?” he asked, gesturing toward Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, and for a moment, her words hung in the air between them, defiant, a challenge in their own right.

Jimin revved his engine, the sound vibrating through Jungkook’s chest, making his pulse quicken. The other Lost Boys exchanged quick, unreadable glances. Jungkook could feel the air thicken, like something was about to happen, something that was only just starting to unravel.

“I’m Jimin,” he said, his tone friendly in the way a lion might introduce itself to a gazelle. He gestured lazily toward the others. “Yoongi. Taehyung. Taeyang.”

From the back of Yoongi’s bike, Moon piped up, his voice eager. “Hi, I’m Moon!”

Y/N turned to Jungkook then, nodding toward him. “This is Jungkook.”

A heavy silence hung over the group, thick with unspoken words. Jungkook shifted, feeling the tension between them like a live wire in the air.

“So,” he said, trying to break the silence, “we still going?”

Jimin’s eyes flicked to Jungkook’s bike, then back to him, calculating. “Honda 250, huh?”

“That’s right,” Jungkook said, his voice steady, even though his hands were itching to just leave. To make it stop, to get away from the pressure building in his chest.

Jimin smiled, that sharp, knowing smile that made Jungkook feel like he was being sized up. “C’mon, Y/N. Climb on.”

Jungkook’s chest tightened, his heart racing. “Y/N?”

For a moment, she hesitated, and Jungkook saw it—just a flicker of something soft in her eyes, a small moment where she seemed to reconsider. But then, with a smile that was almost apologetic, she stepped past him, her movements fluid as she swung onto Jimin’s bike, her arms wrapping around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched.

“Know where Hudson’s Bluff is?” Jimin asked, his voice rising over the rumble of the engine. “Overlooking the point?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, but he knew exactly what Jimin meant.

“You don’t have to beat me, Jungkook,” Jimin said, his smirk widening, “Just try to keep up.”

And with that, Jimin gunned the engine, the Triumph roaring to life. The others followed in a rush, their bikes kicking up gravel as they tore into the night. Y/N didn’t look back.

Jungkook climbed onto his Honda, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t have a Triumph, didn’t have the raw power Jimin’s bike had, but he had something else—grit. Enough to try to keep up, at least. The boardwalk lights were shrinking in his mirrors, but he didn’t slow down.

The motorcycles roared down the wooden steps of the boardwalk, each jolt vibrating through Jungkook's arms and legs. His grip tightened on the handlebars as the bikes bounced over the uneven ground, the sound of the engines mixing with the crash of waves against the shore. Behind him, the beach stretched out—empty save for the scattered, startled couples who shrank back as the Lost Boys ripped through the sand, leaving behind a trail of chaos and dust.

Jungkook didn’t know why he was still following. The sand kicked up behind his Honda, the wheels spinning out, but he wasn’t about to back down. Not with Y/N’s laughter floating back to him, the sound carried on the wind like a promise of something wild. Not with the Lost Boys ahead, their faces glowing with the kind of reckless joy that came with living on the edge.

They hit the surf, the tires skimming the water’s edge, sending up sprays of salty mist. Jungkook squinted through the chaos, trying to keep up, watching as the others didn’t even think about slowing down. Instead, they sped up, racing toward the distant pier. It loomed like a giant in the darkness, the pilings reaching up like jagged teeth ready to rip through the night.

He was already too close to turn back.

The sound of the engines became deafening as the Lost Boys shot between the wooden pilings, weaving in and out like they had done this a thousand times. Jungkook’s heart beat faster, and despite himself, he slowed. The gaps between the pilings seemed impossibly narrow now, the wood rising up like an obstacle course meant to break someone who dared try.

But they didn’t slow down. Not Jimin, not Yoongi, not anyone. They moved through the gaps like they were born for it.

Jungkook hesitated for a breath, his hands squeezing tighter on the grips of his bike, but then he followed. The roar of his Honda filled his ears as he threaded his way between the pilings, the sand-slick tires skidding once, then catching, sending him sliding just a fraction too far. He bit his lip, pushing himself harder, focusing on the road ahead.

By the time he broke free from the pier, the beach stretched out wide before him, empty and raw, but no less dangerous. The dunes rose in the distance, their edges aglow with the orange flicker of another bonfire. He could hear the roar of engines ahead of him, and even though his heart was pounding in his chest, a part of him could feel it too—this pull, this challenge to be a part of something that felt just as reckless as he was.

Jimin led the charge, his bike climbing a dune like it was nothing. The Lost Boys followed one by one, their motorcycles soaring into the air, silhouettes against the firelight before they landed back on the sand, riding effortlessly as if they had always known how to defy gravity.

Jungkook pulled back, his stomach a tight knot as he approached the base of the dune. His mind screamed at him to turn around, but the roar of the bikes and the pull of the moment pushed him forward. The fire’s heat slapped his face for a split second before he gunned the throttle, his bike launching into the air.

The world spun for a heartbeat, the flames from the bonfire flashing by in a dizzying blur, and then—he hit the sand. The bike wobbled violently beneath him, but he hung on, teeth clenched, fighting the instinct to let go. The bike’s tires found purchase, and he shot forward, breathless and wild-eyed.

On the other side of the fire, the Lost Boys were waiting for him, grinning like they had just won a race. Y/N turned back toward him, her hair wild from the wind, her smile something that could have been meant for anyone, but he knew—he felt it. It was for him.

Before he had time to catch his breath, they were off again. The bikes roared forward, and the sand gave way to harder ground as they raced toward a railroad trestle, its dark silhouette etched against the starry sky.

Jimin fell back, pulling alongside Jungkook, his bike roaring at full speed. Y/N’s hair streamed behind her like a banner, and for a moment, her hand reached out toward him. Her fingers brushed his, and the sensation of it lingered, a jolt of something unspoken. His heart skipped in his chest.

Jimin caught his gaze, his grin sharp and knowing. “Now we race!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the night like a challenge.

Without waiting for an answer, Jimin revved his Triumph and shot forward, the roar of the engine almost deafening. Jungkook pushed the throttle harder, chasing after him.

The trestle was gone in a blur of speed, and ahead of them loomed Hudson’s Bluff—a flat, wide stretch of land that seemed endless in the night. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t. The edge was coming, a sheer drop that would send him five hundred feet straight into the crash of waves below.

Jimin didn’t even hesitate. His bike sped toward the edge, dangerously close, too fast—and for a moment, Jungkook thought he wouldn’t stop.

He didn’t. His bike screamed ahead, and Jungkook’s hands tightened on the brakes. His Honda skidded, the tires biting into the dirt as he fought to control it, heart in his throat, eyes locked on the horizon.

Just before the edge, his bike jerked to a stop, sliding sideways on the loose earth. He barely caught himself, the terror still squeezing at his chest. When he looked up, Jimin was already there, his Triumph’s front tire hanging perilously over the abyss, the cool calm of the moment in stark contrast to the chaos of the race.

Jimin was still grinning when he straightened, his eyes flicking to Jungkook with a challenge in them.

Without thinking, Jungkook swung his fist, connecting with Jimin’s jaw. The impact snapped through the air, the sound ringing out over the quiet. Jimin staggered back, but when he regained his balance, his grin was wider than before, dangerous now.

“How far are you willing to go, Jungkook?” he asked, his voice low but loaded with something Jungkook couldn’t quite place.

Jungkook didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could.

Jimin motioned to the others, who fell in behind him, their bikes roaring back to life. They moved toward the stairs, the old wooden steps creaking under the weight of the group. Jungkook followed, his breath still unsteady, heart still racing. But he wasn’t turning back. Not now. Not with Y/N’s smile burning through him like a brand.

When they reached the cave, he stopped dead.

It wasn’t just a cave. It was a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

A Victorian hotel lay sprawled beneath the rock, half-sunken into the earth, its broken lobby tilted like something out of a forgotten era. Wrought-iron elevators, crumbling but still standing, and a mural that stretched across the walls in shattered pieces. Moonlight poured through the cracks in the ceiling, casting sharp silver light over the ruins.

Jungkook stood frozen, unsure if he should turn around or take another step further into the madness. But then Y/N smiled at him again, and it was the kind of smile that dared him to keep going. So, he did. He took one more step into the dark.

The cave was thick with a damp chill that pressed against Jungkook’s skin, the kind of cold that gnawed at the bones. The air smelled of wet earth and something ancient, like the earth had been holding its breath for years. Shafts of moonlight sliced through jagged cracks in the ceiling, casting harsh, silver beams that illuminated the ruins in uneven light. A Victorian hotel lobby, frozen in time and buried deep within the rocks, lay sprawled out before him. The walls, cracked and crumbling, were covered in layers of dust, and the remnants of a forgotten era whispered through the shadows.

The wrought-iron elevator stood frozen, rusted, and tilting at an odd, awkward angle, as though it had been abandoned in a hurry. The front desk—once grand—was now just a shadow of itself, its wood warped and split from years of neglect. Behind it, the murals—vibrant at one point, perhaps—now only offered faded traces of scenes that told half-forgotten stories. The plaster walls, peeling and cracked, barely held onto the ghosts of their former self. The whole place felt wrong, like it had been swallowed by the earth in some moment of chaos, as if the land had taken back what was never meant to be there in the first place.

Jungkook couldn’t tear his eyes away from the eerie grandeur of it all, the surreal sight of the forgotten hotel, but Jimin’s voice cut through the weight of the silence.

“This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla about eighty years ago,” Jimin said, his voice casual, but laced with an authority that made it impossible to ignore. He leaned against a broken column, one hand sliding casually into his pocket, the other holding a smirk that seemed as much a part of him as the shadows around them. His eyes glinted in the dim light, filled with mischief. “Too bad they built it right on top of the San Andreas fault.”

Jungkook turned his head, tearing his gaze from the decaying remnants of the hotel and trying to mask his unease. Jimin paused for a moment, his eyes holding the weight of a story that Jungkook hadn’t yet heard. The silence stretched, the shadows creeping closer, as though the cave itself was listening, waiting.

“In 1906,” Jimin continued, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in slightly, like he was about to tell a ghost story, “when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up.” He let the words hang in the air, his eyes dancing in the moonlight. “This place didn’t stand a chance. Took a header right into the crack. Swallowed it whole.”

Jungkook felt the chill in the air deepen. The remnants of the hotel suddenly felt more like a tomb than a place once filled with laughter and life. His eyes darted around the cave, trying to make sense of it, but the room seemed to be closing in, pressing in on him. He didn’t want to ask questions; didn’t want to know how it was possible, but the words echoed in his head, unshakable.

“Man, you wouldn’t believe the cool stuff we’ve found in here,” Yoongi’s voice broke through the tension, dry as the brittle beams above them. His tone was casual, but there was something else behind it—a quiet, eerie fascination.

Jungkook shifted uneasily on his feet. The air felt thick, as though the cave itself was alive, breathing, watching him, its walls pressing in like the eyes of something ancient and knowing. He could almost hear it—like the ground beneath them was pulsing, waiting for something. For what, he couldn’t say, but the feeling crawled down his spine, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

His gaze turned toward Y/N. He didn’t have to say anything—he just needed to see her, needed to feel like everything was still real. She caught his eye and smiled at him, soft but steady, her presence a quiet anchor amidst the creeping shadows. She reached for his hand, the warmth of her touch grounding him in the moment.

“C’mon, Jungkook,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, her fingers wrapping around his hand like a promise. “I want to go.”

He opened his mouth to reply, to offer something—an excuse, a reason to leave—but before he could speak, Jimin’s voice sliced through the air, cutting him off.

“No. Stick around,” Jimin said, his voice sharp, commanding, as if there was no room for argument.

Jungkook hesitated, caught between Y/N’s reassuring touch and the pressure of Jimin’s gaze. He opened his mouth, trying to deflect, to offer some sort of out. “We were gonna grab some food,” he mumbled, his voice trailing off like it didn’t belong in this place.

Jimin’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Good idea,” he said, his tone playful yet strangely firm. He turned slightly, calling over his shoulder, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. “Taeyang. We’re hungry.”

Taeyang, as silent as ever, nodded without a word and disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only the faint sound of footsteps fading into the darkness.

Jimin lit a joint, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating his sharp features, casting them in an eerie glow. He took a slow drag, his eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that curled lazily toward the cracked ceiling. “See?” Jimin said, holding the joint out toward Jungkook with an almost casual air. “All you gotta do is ask. How about an appetizer?”

Jungkook froze, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes in the cave fall on him. The joint hovered between them, suspended in the cool air, the dark shadows stretching long and deep. For a moment, time seemed to slow. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, like the entire cave was holding its breath.

Y/N shifted beside him, her expression troubled, but she said nothing. She didn’t pull away, didn’t step back—but he could feel the tension in her body, the subtle shift in her energy. She was waiting for him to make a choice, just as he was waiting for something to shift, for the right moment to step away.

But the longer he stood there, the more he felt the pull of something—something dark, something that felt just as much a part of this place as the broken walls and forgotten memories. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with unspoken words. Finally, unable to stand the pressure, Jungkook reached out.

His fingers brushed the edge of the joint, and the moment he took it, the air seemed to thicken, the darkness around them pressing in even more. The cave felt darker now, the shadows deeper, more alive, as if the place was swallowing him whole. The weight of the eyes on him, the air heavy with the smell of smoke and damp earth, made it feel as though he had crossed some invisible line.

Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, her fingers wrapped around his like a lifeline, but even her presence couldn’t dispel the sense of wrongness that clung to the cave. Jungkook’s chest tightened, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the joint. The pull of the night, the others, it all felt too strong to ignore.

The cave waited. It watched. And Jungkook had just made his choice.

Across town, the atmosphere was quieter, yet the tension was no less palpable. The house, tucked away in a neighborhood that buzzed with the hum of distant traffic and the occasional bark of a dog, had a calm that felt almost unnatural in its stillness. Inside, Jung-Hyun lay sprawled on his bed, the soft rustle of pages filling the silence. His back was against the headboard, his legs bent at an awkward angle as he propped a comic book against his knees. Vampires Everywhere was emblazoned in bold, lurid letters across the cover, the artwork vibrant and chaotic, just the way he liked it. He flipped through the panels, his eyes darting back and forth, drinking in the fantastical scenes of bloodsuckers, supernatural creatures, and haunted cities. Each page seemed to draw him deeper, a temporary escape from the world beyond the paper.

He was so absorbed in the story that he didn’t even hear the soft footsteps approaching his room until the door creaked open, just a crack. Wanda, his mother, poked her head into the space, her figure briefly framed by the hallway light before it flickered out of sight. “Ten o’clock. Lights out,” she called out, her voice not unkind but firm, the way a parent’s voice often was when there was no room for argument. She tossed a sweater into the closet, not looking at him as she spoke.

Jung-Hyun barely acknowledged her, his gaze still glued to the page in front of him. “Mom,” he muttered, not looking up. His voice was laced with the exhaustion of adolescence—half rebellion, half resignation.

Wanda hesitated in the doorway for a moment, then let out a sigh. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, her eyes scanning the room like she was about to say something, but she didn’t seem to know how to frame it. “I can’t sleep with the closet door open, either,” she added after a long beat, the words lingering in the air. “Not even a crack.” There was a pause before she laughed softly, but the sound was hollow, as though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Your father didn’t mind, though. He could leave it wide open for all he cared. Actually…” She trailed off for a second, her voice dropping a bit. “I think one of the reasons I divorced him was because he never believed… in the horror of the closet monster.”

Jung-Hyun raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the comic. “Closet monster?” His tone was dry, laced with curiosity but also amusement, like he was humoring her, but he didn’t expect any real explanation.

Just as Wanda opened her mouth to reply, a deep voice rumbled from behind them, sending both of them into a sudden jolt of surprise.

“Closet monster?” Min-chul’s voice boomed, rich with humor and mischief, coming from just behind them. Wanda and Jung-Hyun yelped in unison, as startled as if a ghost had materialized in the room. They spun around in tandem, both of them wide-eyed, only to find Min-chul leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature grin spread across his face, completely unphased by their shock.

“Dad!” Wanda scolded with a gasp, her heart still pounding in her chest. Her expression was a mix of exasperation and affection, but the edge of annoyance was clear in her voice. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

Min-chul raised a hand in mock surrender, his grin only growing wider. “It’s called the Indian walk,” he said proudly, his tone almost too pleased with himself. “Walking without making a sound.”

Jung-Hyun rolled his eyes, already used to his father’s antics. But before he could say anything, Min-chul stepped further into the room, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He was holding something behind his back, hiding it like it was some kind of secret treasure, but the way he was grinning, it was clear that whatever it was, it was meant to be a surprise.

Min-chul made a dramatic flourish, his free hand swooping outward as he revealed the object behind his back. “Brought you a little something to dress up your room, Jung-Hyun,” he said, his voice dripping with excitement.

Jung-Hyun blinked in disbelief as he looked at the grotesque thing in his father’s hands. It was a stuffed woodchuck, its fur matted and dirty with age, its teeth bared in a perpetual snarl, the glassy eyes wide and unblinking. The thing was so ugly, so unnervingly lifelike in its grotesque posture, that Jung-Hyun had to resist the urge to cringe. He forced a grateful smile, even though everything inside him recoiled. “Thanks, Harabeoji,” he said weakly, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

Min-chul beamed with pride, placing the stuffed animal carefully on the dresser like it was the most precious thing in the world. His voice was warm, a deep affection in the way he spoke. “Lots more where he came from.”

Wanda shuddered, clearly not as thrilled with the gift as her husband was. She covered it with a polite nod, trying to mask the unease in her face. “Lights out, Jung-Hyun,” she said briskly, her voice now taking on that motherly authority. She took Min-chul by the arm and gently steered him toward the door, her movements a little quicker than usual, as though she was eager to get away from the unsettling addition to their son’s room.

Jung-Hyun sat there in silence, his eyes locked on the stuffed woodchuck, its glassy stare boring into him. The dim light from the bedside lamp made the creature’s teeth gleam eerily, as if it was alive, watching him with some hidden knowledge. The room suddenly felt colder, darker, the shadows stretching unnaturally around the strange gift. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, trying to lose himself in the pages of his comic again, but it was impossible to ignore the grotesque figure sitting on the dresser.

Minutes passed, and Jung-Hyun found his gaze drifting back to the woodchuck. Its eyes seemed to follow him, every move he made—its sharp, bared teeth gleaming in the half-light. Something about it gnawed at him, as if it was waiting for him to do something, or perhaps waiting for something to happen. He couldn’t focus on his comic anymore. The words blurred in front of him, and the images lost their power. He could still hear the quiet, oppressive atmosphere of the room, the silence hanging heavy with an unsettling presence.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a frustrated grunt, he pushed himself off the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor with a soft thud. His heart was racing, his nerves frayed by the unsettling sensation creeping up his spine. Without thinking, he marched over to the dresser, grabbed the revolting stuffed woodchuck, and tossed it into the closet, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The closet door groaned in protest, but the room was suddenly quieter, almost calmer. Jung-Hyun let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his pulse still pounding in his ears. He stood there for a moment, staring at the closet door, the brief flash of fear slowly ebbing away. But even as he tried to calm himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the room wasn’t as empty as it seemed. The dark corners seemed to hold something, something that he couldn’t quite name.

Back in the cave, the atmosphere was undeniably shifting. The earlier tension that had filled the air was slowly melting away, like mist under the warmth of the sun. Music began to pulse through the cavernous space from a battered old boombox perched on a broken stone ledge. The bass reverberated off the jagged rock walls, a hypnotic beat that seemed to seep into the very bones of the cave. Taehyung, ever the free spirit, was in his element—gracefully gliding on his skateboard across the uneven stone floor. His movements were fluid, each turn, flip, and slide a perfect synchronization with the rhythm of the music. It was as if his body was made for the music, dancing in the air as much as it was skating along the ground. The others lounged around him, each of them in their own space, enjoying the break from earlier tension. Some sat casually on the rocks, legs dangling or stretched out lazily, while others leaned against the columns of stone or sprawled in the shadows. Laughter, casual chatter, and the steady thrum of the boombox formed a kind of strange harmony.

Jungkook, still feeling somewhat out of place and unnerved by the cave's overwhelming sense of otherness, was the one to break the spell. His voice cut through the music like a knife, his words awkward but genuine. “Where are you guys from?” he asked, his curiosity forcing the question out before he could think better of it.

Yoongi glanced at him from where he was lounging against a stone pillar, a lazy smirk stretching across his face. “We’re from right here,” he answered, his voice calm, almost like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jungkook blinked in confusion. “No, I mean… where do you live?” His voice was hesitant, unsure if he was missing something, but his question felt too big to leave unasked.

The moment hung in the air for a second, and then Taehyung let out a sharp laugh—an almost mocking sound, but not unkind. It was as if Jungkook had just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. He spun his skateboard around, the wheels screeching against the stone, before leaning casually against a rock. “Right here,” Taehyung replied, gesturing widely around the cave as though the entire cavern was the answer. “This is where we live, Jungkook.”

The whole group chuckled at that, the tension from earlier dissolving completely as they fell back into their comfortable rhythm. But Jungkook, now even more bewildered than before, wasn’t letting it go that easily. “You live here? Your folks let you?” he asked, still incredulous. The question slipped out before he could stop it, and the group fell into a quiet pause.

Yoongi’s eyebrow arched, his expression both amused and mildly confused. “Is he talking parents?” he asked, looking at the others, as though Jungkook had just asked about some long-forgotten relic of the past.

Taehyung leaned back with a grin, his laugh bursting from him again. “What are they?” His voice dripped with playful sarcasm, and his smile only widened as the others joined in, their laughter echoing off the stone walls of the cave.

Jimin, who had been leaning lazily against a broken pillar near Jungkook, watched the whole exchange with a knowing gleam in his eyes. He sidled closer, his movements slow and deliberate. There was a strange glint in his eyes as he spoke, his voice low, seductive almost. “We do what we want, Jungkook,” he said, his words dripping with a kind of dangerous freedom. “We have complete freedom. No parents. No rules.” He tilted his head, his expression suddenly intense. “Hell, we’re as free as birds.”

The weight of Jimin’s words hung in the air like a promise, an invitation to something deeper, darker. But before Jungkook could process what he was hearing, a new presence appeared—Taeyang, emerging from the shadows, carrying cartons of takeout food. The sight of the food brought a strange sense of normalcy back, a grounding force amidst the bizarre and unsettling atmosphere. Jimin clapped him on the back in greeting, taking the containers from him with a flourish, as if he were presenting an offering.

“Chinese! Good choice,” Jimin said with an exaggerated smile, cracking open a carton of food and handing it to Jungkook with an almost ceremonial air. “Guests first,” he added, his voice laced with mock politeness.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, eyeing the carton warily. The others watched him with barely contained amusement, their gazes flicking between him and the food. Jungkook’s stomach growled, betraying his discomfort. After a brief, tense moment, he took the carton from Jimin, feeling the weight of their gaze on him as if they were waiting for him to do something more than simply eat. Slowly, almost cautiously, he scooped a spoonful of rice into his mouth, trying to ignore the growing knot in his stomach.

Jimin, still watching him with an amused glint in his eyes, leaned in just a little closer, his voice lowering to a whisper of mock innocence. “So,” he said, “how do you like those maggots, Jungkook?”

Jungkook froze. His stomach dropped, and the world seemed to tilt. “What?” he asked, his voice tight with confusion and horror.

Jimin’s grin widened, dark and wicked. “You’re eating maggots,” he said, his voice full of glee. “How do they taste?”

Jungkook’s blood ran cold as he stared down at the carton in his hands. The rice, which had seemed so ordinary moments before, was no longer just rice. It was alive. He blinked in disbelief, but the writhing mass of maggots was unmistakable—thousands of tiny, squirming creatures crawling over one another, their translucent bodies glistening in the dim light. He gagged, his stomach lurching violently. Without thinking, he spit out the mouthful he had taken and threw the carton to the ground.

But when the carton spilled open, all that fell out was plain, harmless rice. No maggots. No worms. Just rice.

The entire cave erupted in laughter. It was loud, raucous, and the sound bounced off the stone walls, filling every corner of the space. Jungkook’s face burned with humiliation, his pulse racing with a mix of anger and confusion. He stood there, frozen, unsure of whether to laugh or to retreat.

Y/N, who had been sitting nearby, stood abruptly, her voice cutting through the chaos like a sharp blade. “That’s enough,” she said, her tone harsh, protective.

Jimin raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. “Sorry, Jungkook,” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. “No hard feelings, huh?” He offered him a new carton, this time filled with noodles. “Here. Try these noodles.”

Jungkook eyed the carton warily, his stomach still churning from the earlier shock. He opened it slowly, the feeling of dread tightening in his chest. But when he looked inside, his stomach flipped again. The noodles weren’t just noodles. They were alive—twisting, writhing, and slimy, the noodles moving in a grotesque dance of their own.

Jimin, unfazed, raised an eyebrow and echoed Jungkook’s horror. “Worms?” he asked with mock confusion, then tilted the carton back, letting the wriggling mass of noodles slide into his mouth. The sound of the noodles slithering over his lips and disappearing down his throat was obscene, a sickeningly satisfying slurp.

Jungkook couldn’t hold it in any longer. Panic surged through him, and he grabbed Jimin’s arm, his heart pounding in his chest. “Don’t! Stop!” he begged, his voice rising with fear.

Jimin simply grinned, swallowing the last of the noodles with ease. “Why? They’re only noodles,” he said casually, offering the carton back to Jungkook, as if the thing was completely normal. But this time, when Jungkook looked inside, the noodles were just… noodles. Harmless. Innocuous. No worms.

The boys around them howled with laughter again, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of amusement, as if they were all in on a joke that Jungkook didn’t understand. He felt a cold sweat break out along his spine, the ground beneath him seeming to shift and buckle. The sense of unreality clung to him, his grip on what was real loosening.

“That’s enough!” Y/N snapped again, her voice cutting through the ruckus like a whip. She stood tall, her eyes flashing with something protective, something fierce.

The music shifted again, the boombox crackling before a new song slammed into the space, deep and throbbing with a rhythm that vibrated through the entire cavern. The beat was alive, wrapping around the walls, seeping into the stones, flowing through every crack and crevice. The air hummed with it. It was so powerful, so immersive, that it seemed to pulse from the very walls themselves. Every note, every beat urged them all to move, to surrender to the music. It had a strange power—an irresistible pull that made the cave feel less like a place and more like a living thing, like it was breathing along with them.

Y/N, ever the force of nature, grabbed Jungkook’s hand without hesitation, pulling him towards the center of the room, toward the pulse of the music. Her grip was firm, but there was a lightness to her that made him want to follow her anywhere. She moved effortlessly, flowing like water, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was a kind of gravity to her, like she could make the whole world bend to her will without even trying. Jungkook felt himself moving along with her, his body reluctantly obeying her silent command. His laughter came out nervous, hesitant, as he tried to match her fluid movements, but his body was betraying him. The joint Jimin had handed him earlier was doing its work—his limbs felt heavy and loose, his movements sluggish, and his balance was slightly off. The world around him seemed to tilt, edges blurring, the lights flashing just a little too brightly, the music too loud, but somehow it was exhilarating. He felt caught in the undertow of it all, unable to fight the current.

Jimin, leaning against a crumbling pillar with a relaxed grin, watched them with a sly glint in his eyes. His posture was casual, almost lazy, but his eyes tracked them with predatory attention, as if he were amused by some private joke. Then, as if a thought had occurred to him, he reached behind him and pulled an old, dark bottle from a dusty shelf. It was a relic, something forgotten and weathered, the label too faded to read. He uncorked it with an exaggerated flick of his wrist, the sound sharp in the space, and poured its contents into a crinkled paper cup. The liquid inside was a dark, rich color—deep crimson, almost too thick to be liquid. He sauntered over to Jungkook, the smile on his face widening, and extended the cup toward him with a flourish, like it was a gift.

“Drink,” Jimin said smoothly, his voice as warm as honey, thick with something dangerous, something like temptation.

Jungkook hesitated, eyeing the cup with a mix of curiosity and caution. But before he could reach for it, Y/N's hand shot out, gripping his wrist with a surprising strength. Her fingers were cool against his skin, and her eyes were wide, urgent. Her face was close, close enough for him to catch the faint scent of her skin, the heat of her breath as she leaned in.

“Don’t, Jungkook. You don’t have to,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm, like a warning he didn’t know how to ignore. “It’s blood.”

Her words hit him like a punch, a sudden jolt of reality amidst the haze. For a second, everything paused. The world seemed to freeze around him. His eyes searched hers, trying to make sense of the words, but they didn’t make sense. Blood? He blinked slowly, his mind trying to process it, but all he could do was laugh, a low, amused chuckle escaping his lips.

“Blood. Right,” he said, as though he were indulging in some bizarre joke. He raised the cup to his lips, swirling the thick liquid inside, watching it glint in the dim light. “Good joke, Y/N.”

But before she could stop him again, Jungkook tipped the cup back and drank. The liquid was warm, thicker than any drink he’d ever tasted, and when it slid down his throat, it felt almost alive. The room seemed to hold its breath as everyone watched him. His skin prickled with the sensation of their eyes on him. The liquid slid over his tongue, and a strange taste bloomed in his mouth. It was iron—sharp and metallic—but there was something else, something deeper and darker, something that set his nerves alight. It was the taste of something ancient, something primal.

When the cup pulled away from his mouth, it left a streak of the liquid at the corner of his lips, the red stain a stark contrast against the paleness of his skin. For a moment, he just stared at the cup in his hand, a faint, bitter taste lingering in the back of his throat. But then, something inside him snapped. The edges of his vision blurred, the world tilting dangerously, like the ground had given way beneath him.

And then, it wasn’t just spinning—it was flying.

The sensation of weightlessness hit him all at once, like he was floating, like the air had turned to something thick and viscous. He felt himself rising, slowly, impossibly high, the room shrinking beneath him, the laughter, the music, the faces all blurring together into a kaleidoscope of sound and color. He drifted upward, weightless, his body a balloon on the wind. Everything around him began to feel distant, dreamlike—he could hear their voices, but they were muffled, like he was listening through a veil.

Jungkook’s head spun with the vertigo, the dizzying feeling of floating just above reality. He barely felt the impact as he stumbled, his body moving of its own accord, and fell forward, collapsing into Y/N’s lap.

The moment he made contact with her, everything shifted. Y/N went completely still beneath him, her body rigid with tension. He could feel it—her legs trembling with the effort to hold still, the tension in her muscles pulling tight like a string. It was strange against the loose, languid feeling that had taken over him, as if his own body were made of soft, flowing water. The contrast felt like a jolt, something electric running through him. The others, the Lost Boys, were still laughing behind him, their voices loud and jeering, but Jungkook didn’t care. He could hear the amusement in their voices, but it didn’t bother him. Not now. Not when Y/N smelled like everything he needed to breathe.

He buried his face into the soft folds of her skirt, his body relaxing further into the cushion of her lap. There was a heady, intoxicating scent wafting from her skin, something salty and sweet, mixed with the faint iron tang of blood. The smell was different from anyone else. It was a pulse, a steady rhythm that sent his senses spinning, tugging at something deep inside him. It was warm, and cold, all at once—a strange balance, woven together into something intoxicating. Something that made his head spin even harder, made him want to stay close, closer.

His hand moved almost of its own accord, lifting to gently rest on her knee, the warmth of her skin beneath his touch like fire against the coolness of his fingers. He looked up at her, his head heavy, his vision too soft, too slow. A smile curved across his lips.

“Give me a kiss, Y/N?” he asked, his voice thick with something else now. Something dreamlike, delirious.

Y/N froze. For a brief moment, she didn’t move, her gaze flicking to him like a darting bird. And then, almost too fast to follow, she turned her head away. The sudden shift in her energy was jarring, her tension radiating off her in waves. Jungkook’s heart stuttered in confusion.

Her voice trembled, laced with something darker than he could comprehend. “Jungkook, you’re covered in blood.”

Jungkook blinked, trying to process her words, before he twisted his body, lifting himself slightly to glance at his chest. His eyes followed the trail of crimson across his clothes, the deep red staining his hands, his lips. He raised a shaky hand to his mouth, wiping at the blood that had dripped down, and stared at his fingers. The blood was thick and sticky, the taste still heavy on his tongue.

“Whoops,” he murmured absently, the words coming out almost too lightly. He chuckled softly, a sound that felt both out of place and completely right.

It felt so absurd. So funny.

The realization hit him with a strange, almost unbearable humor. His mother would be so disappointed. She’d always told him not to play with his food.

The thought made him laugh, and it bubbled up from deep within him, a loud, infectious sound. The laughter echoed around him, mixing with the distant amusement of the others, the voices of the Lost Boys rising in a wave of shared mirth. The sound was light, fizzy, like champagne bubbles popping against his skin, in his veins. It warmed him from the inside, loosening everything left within him. Everything became soft, pliable, as if he were melting into the air itself.

He felt so good. So light. So... free.

But Y/N didn’t join in the laughter. In fact, the tension in her body seemed to heighten. She was shaking now, trembling beneath him. It was subtle, but it was there, and it immediately stopped the warm, drunken hum that had been surrounding him. Jungkook’s smile faltered as he turned to her, his hand reaching up to gently touch her cheek. He needed to understand why she wasn’t laughing, why she wasn’t joining him in this dizzying, euphoric feeling.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her body stiff beneath him, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes were burning with something he couldn’t place. They were full of something fierce—something accusing.

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat. “Y/N?” he asked again, his voice more urgent now.

Her gaze flicked past him, up toward the curtain drawn around their alcove, her brow furrowing with anger. There was something in her look—something dark and knowing. She was staring at something behind him, beyond him, as if she could see into the heart of the cave.

Jungkook shifted slightly, his body sluggish, but he managed to raise himself on his elbows to follow her gaze.

And there, standing just outside the alcove, was Jimin.

His hands were tucked into the pockets of his overcoat, his stance relaxed, but there was a predatory edge to his smile, a cold, twisted satisfaction in the way his eyes flicked between them.

It takes two tries, his limbs all liquid and unfamiliar, but Jungkook manages to lever himself up onto his elbows. To put his mouth closer to Y/N’s ear. “Did he do something?”

A shudder races through Y/N’s whole body, a shudder that Jungkook, lying in her lap and pressed up close against her everywhere he can, can feel. It’s strangely fascinating. He wants to make her do it again.

There’s something almost like despair in her voice when Y/N says, “Jungkook…”

She says it, watching him, like he should know what she means. What’s going on. Why she’s so upset.

Jimin tucks his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and leans back against the wall, watching them both with a switchblade sliver of a smile.

For the first time, the dizzy haze of satisfied well-being that’s descended over Jungkook feels strangely uncomfortable. Like a soft, warm blanket that’s somehow got tangled over his face. Muffling. Smothering. Suffocating.

He flops himself over onto his side, resting his head against Y/N’s thigh, putting his back to Jimin and his eyes back on Y/N. “Ignore him,” Jungkook advises, and Y/N gives a choked little laugh in the back of her throat, pressing the heel of one hand against her mouth. “Y/N?”

“Jungkook -” Y/N starts, like she’s about to explain why it’s not that simple, and why Jungkook should be upset too, and a whole lot of other things that are going to ruin this moment of pure uncomplicated good that Jungkook’s already starting to realize isn’t going to last forever.

She stops, though, biting off whatever misery she has in mind, when Jungkook draws a finger up the inside of her leg.

He takes his time about it, tracing a lazy pattern around the jut of her anklebone and zigzagging back and forth up her calf to her knee. Y/N’s breath hitches, the hot pulse under her skin surging, as Jungkook doodles invisible circles around the hinge of her knee for a moment before spanning it with his hand and squeezing, digging his thumb into the soft place just above the joint. Her leg jerks, involuntarily Jungkook thinks, and she gives another of those fascinating shudders that he likes.

“Ignore him, Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, even though he can still feel Jimin’s laser-blue eyes boring into his back, Jimin’s attention brushing over him like the whisper of the lacy curtain drifting in the faintest swell of sea-breeze. He thinks of the ways Jimin had looked at him, when he had to watch Y/N walk away from him to climb onto the back of Jimin’s bike, and drags his grip a little higher, bunching up Y/N’s skirt to reveal the smooth expanse of her skin.

A little helpless whimper spills out of Y/N as Jungkook shifts away from his place against her thigh to settle between her legs.

Jungkook takes a moment to plant a gentle kiss to the inside of her knee where, a moment before, he’d dug his thumb in. The sob that catches on Y/N’s breath, heavy and harsh in their little bubble of lace-edged silence, cracks in half partway through.

Y/N smells amazing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. He kisses his way up the inside of her thigh, savoring the way her muscles quaver under his touch, and brushes his lips against the coarse dark curls spilling past the edges of her plain cotton panties as he buries his nose in the crook of her hip and inhales. She’s all sweet and salt together, like crackerjack, like cotton candy on the pier, with that iron rush just below the surface setting Jungkook’s back teeth buzzing and something wild clawing inside his chest. This close to the core of her, her animal musk, her heat, nearly drowns the sweetness out. And that moonlight-cold thing that Jungkook can’t describe slices through it all like vinegar dashed over the salty richness of fresh-from-the-fryer French fries, like the sting of sour candy in a penny-candy bag. She’s mouthwatering.

He wants to devour her.

He wants to make her feel better.

He thinks he can do two things at once.

Y/N lets out a hitching gasp as Jungkook presses a soft kiss to the tiny satin bow decorating the waistband of her panties, then directly over the damp patch of flimsy fabric that’s all that separates her from the world. He lingers there a moment, breathing her in, before he drags himself away to start ministering to the inside of her other thigh. He doesn’t have to. And he’s tempted not to draw this out, make them both suffer, any longer. Tempted just to plunge right in.

But he wants to make Y/N forget whatever it is that’s making her sad. Whatever it is that Jimin’s done that’s disappointed her.

Jungkook can – and he will – kiss it better.

Y/N’s shaking by the time he works his way back up, trembling with the effort, it seems like, of holding herself still. Jungkook can hear the fabric of her skirt shifting and shuffling as she bunches fistfuls of it up and squeezes, then carefully, slowly, releases.

He grins into the soft meat of her thigh, and then shifts over and licks a long stripe up the crotch of her panties.

Y/N jerks, her hips bucking up suddenly enough to catch Jungkook off his guard and bash her pelvic bone against his nose. He thinks he makes some muffled noise of protest, but if there’s pain, it’s gone again in the next thought, erased by the pure euphoria of finally, finally getting a taste of her. She’s soaked right through the thin fabric. Yet another piece of evidence to add to the growing pile that, no matter how she’s fighting for whatever reason not to show it, Y/N’s enjoying this.

Now that Jungkook’s had a taste, though, every thought he had about slowly teasing Y/N up to the edge flies right out of his head. Her restraint seems to crumble in tandem with Jungkook’s, if the way her fists are suddenly clawing into his hair instead of in her skirts is anything to judge by. She doesn’t sound like she’s even trying to bite back or disguise the ragged gasp and long, low, hungry moan that she lets out when he tears open the offending barrier between his lips and hers, when he breathes an almost rapturous sigh against her suddenly-bared flesh. The dark red gash that opens within her darker thatch of curls is as tantalizing, as irresistible, as the bottle of wine Jimin had opened in his face earlier tonight, and the last of Jungkook’s resistance melts as easily before it.

And the surrender is every bit as sweet.

Y/N’s fists tug at his hair as he buries his face into the wet heat of her, his scalp stinging in the pull of her directionless grip. Jungkook lets her yank him closer, force him deeper, as he tries to map out every crook and crevice of her with his tongue. The taste of her is as incredible as the smell of her was, but somehow just a thousand times more, and Jungkook enthusiastically hunts down every trace of ephemeral sweetness and bitter-bright acidity in the flood of hot slick juices smearing his face, coating his tongue.

And every needy sound he manages to wring out of Y/N, every twitch or buck or arch or quiver, sends a little thrill shivering through Jungkook. He’s half-hard in his jeans without even being touched. He might put a hand down to deal with that, if he weren’t so busy focusing on pinning Y/N’s hips down into the cushions, working a couple of fingers into her alongside his tongue.

There’s a prickling awareness that rises slowly up Jungkook’s spine that they’re still being watched, a sort of feeling of nakedness even though he’s still fully dressed in his bloodstained clothes. A feeling of being exposed, under Jimin’s cool, watchful attention.

Somehow, it doesn’t dampen the fire in Jungkook’s blood for this, for Y/N, for everything.

Actually, it’s very much the opposite.

Jungkook’s head is spinning, and for a moment, he’s entirely consumed by Y/N—by the heat and the softness of her, the way she feels against him, like she could melt him into the bed with a single breath. Her thighs tighten around his head, her body trembling, and he loses himself in her pulse, thundering loud enough to fill his ears. It’s a beautiful thing, that moment, when nothing else exists but the two of them—when he can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s felt so weightless, so free. He barely notices how time stretches, or how much of it passes, until her grip loosens, then tightens in his hair again, and her breath comes fast and shallow, full of tremors that ripple down to him.

And then it’s over. She collapses back against the cushions, her thighs falling away from his ears, and Jungkook watches as her chest rises and falls in time with her heart. She’s quiet now, peaceful in the aftermath, and the only sounds in the space between them are the unsteady rhythm of her breathing and the pulse in her throat.

Jungkook’s hands slide slowly from her body, the movement almost reluctant, but the heat between them is too much to ignore, and he can’t help himself. He lifts his torso off the bed, positioning himself on his elbows, wanting to look at her, to connect with her. The moment feels almost sacred, something shared between them that is impossible to put into words. He wants to see her face, to savor this, but when he opens his mouth to speak, he’s struck by the deafening silence that surrounds them. It’s thick, unsettling, almost suffocating.

“Now, how about… that… kiss...” His voice falters, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread, but before he can finish, he stops himself. His eyes catch something that makes his blood run cold.

Her face is wet. The tears are rolling down her cheeks, leaving streaks through the mess of blood still marking her skin—marks from his hands. The realization hits him hard. She’s crying. His stomach tightens, and a wave of panic rises within him, threatening to overwhelm him. Why? Did he hurt her in some way? The thought grips him so intensely, his heart races and his breath catches in his throat. The weight of the unknown forces him into action.

He moves quickly, but his hands are clumsy, fumbling with her skirts, covering her with an urgency he doesn’t understand. His eyes scan her face, lingering on the tears, on the frown pulling at her features. His own heart skips a beat, and for a split second, he can’t breathe. "Y/N? What’s the matter?" he asks, his voice sounding raw, hollow in the wide gap between them.

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. The stillness stretches between them like an eternity. Her eyes don’t meet his; instead, they remain fixed on something unseen in the shadows, distant and unfocused. It unsettles him more than he’d like to admit. The silence is loud, deafening, and the chill in the air gnaws at his bones.

“No, Jungkook,” she says at last, her voice faint, almost lost in the stillness. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

A rush of relief washes over him, the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escaping his lips in a shaky sigh. The panic that had seized him begins to loosen its grip, but it doesn’t fully dissipate. There’s still something gnawing at him, a feeling he can’t shake. He shifts, sitting back against the alcove wall, pulling himself as far from her as the confined space allows. The dried blood on his shirt cracks with the motion, flaking off and falling in little pieces onto the soft sheets beneath them. It seems so insignificant now, a remnant of something that no longer matters.

“I never wanna hurt you, Y/N,” he mutters, mostly to himself, the words escaping in a quiet, almost desperate tone. His eyes drift to the empty space around them, the eerie stillness pressing in, and the distant sound of laughter from their friends outside feels like a memory from a lifetime ago. It doesn’t feel lighthearted anymore; it feels distant. Cold. His mind races as the weight of the silence becomes heavier.

Y/N remains still, her body slack against the bed, her eyes unfocused, lost in her own thoughts. Then, after what feels like an eternity, she exhales a deep, shuddering breath, the sound almost a release. The tension in the room seems to lighten, just a little, as if some unseen weight is lifted, but it’s not enough to ease Jungkook completely. “Come here,” she murmurs softly, her voice inviting him, pulling him toward her.

She shifts, making space for him, and Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. He crawls up the bed, lying beside her, his head resting against her shoulder. The warmth of her body is a balm to the cold tension still hanging in the air. Her fingers begin to stroke through his hair, the movement so soft, so soothing, it almost feels unreal. His body relaxes at the sensation, his breathing slowing, becoming steadier, though something remains in the back of his mind, tugging at him, an unease that refuses to leave.

“You’ll need to leave before sunrise,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, as though speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment they’ve created. “The light can still make its way in here unless you go deeper.”

Jungkook hums softly in acknowledgment, but the urgency doesn’t sink in. He knows there’s time—there’s always time. The others won’t leave him to the sun. Whatever that meant. Jungkook was too tired to really think about it.

Yet, despite her warmth and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat under his ear, a quiet, unshakable dread lingers in his chest. It’s a feeling he can’t explain, a tug at the back of his mind, as if something is just out of reach, something he’s missing.

The sensation grows stronger as he drifts, a faint unease twisting in his gut. The last thing he’s aware of before sleep overtakes him is the sticky, uncomfortable feeling of dried blood on his skin, a reminder of everything that has happened—of everything yet to come.

Y/N lies still, her body feeling the comforting weight of Jungkook’s head against her shoulder, the soft, steady rhythm of his breath like a lullaby against her skin. She runs her fingers through his hair absently, the touch gentle, almost tender, but her mind is far from at ease. The afterglow of their intimacy lingers in her limbs, a warmth spreading through her chest, a comfortable ache that makes her smile even as it tugs at her muscles. It’s the kind of ache that signifies satisfaction, fulfillment. But even with that warmth, her thoughts keep pulling her away from the present moment.

The others.

She knows they heard. The sounds they made, the intimacy they shared—it wasn’t quiet. It was raw, too raw to be concealed. The thought makes her flush with embarrassment, heat crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. It’s not just that they heard—it’s that she couldn’t control herself. The way she gave in, the way she let go, her need overwhelming everything. She knows it wasn’t a mistake, that she enjoyed it, but the thought of the others knowing, of them hearing her give herself over to that craving—it makes her skin crawl with discomfort.

But it’s not about them. Not entirely. It’s Jimin.

Jimin, the one who has always been pulling the strings behind the scenes. She knows he orchestrated this, knows that he’s been playing her from the start. He knew how much she wanted Jungkook, how much she craved him, even when she didn’t fully admit it to herself. He’s been manipulating the situation, twisting her feelings, driving her toward the very thing she fears most.

Jimin wants her to drink from Jungkook. He wants her to cross the line, to take that final step into the darkness, to complete the transformation into what she’s meant to be—a vampire. And she can feel it now, deep within her veins. The craving. The hunger. The sharp, burning need that calls to her, a need she’s never been able to deny. It scares her.

Her hand tightens in Jungkook’s hair, her nails grazing his scalp lightly, and a shudder runs through her. It’s not his fault. She knows that. He’s just a pawn in Jimin’s game. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t know that she’s being pushed, cornered, manipulated into something she’s not ready for. He doesn’t know that when he leaves, when the morning comes, he will forget all of this. But she knows she won’t.

The weight of that knowledge presses down on her chest, her heart quickening as the room grows darker and quieter. The others had heard, yes, but it’s not just them. It’s Jimin. He’s always known what was happening between them, what it would mean, what it could do to her.

And now he’s pushing her. Driving her toward something she’s doesn’t want to be.

Her breath hitches as she pulls Jungkook closer, holding him against her, as though clinging to something she can’t bear to lose. Her pulse quickens, the heat of his body against hers igniting a fire in her chest. But beneath it all, there’s fear. Fear of herself. Fear of the part of her that’s already too far gone.

But for now, she lets the fear slip away, allowing herself to sink into the comfort of the moment. Jimin may have his plans, but in this moment, all she wants is him—just him. She’ll deal with everything else in the morning.

The stillness of the room is broken only by the soft rhythm of Jungkook’s breathing, slow and steady against her shoulder. He’s asleep now, the weight of his body relaxed against hers, his warmth like a lifeline, grounding her in the chaos of her thoughts. The others are gone, their footsteps long faded from the halls, leaving her with nothing but the haunting silence of the night. She knows it’s late—too late, in fact, but the thoughts pressing in on her won’t let her rest. The shadows of her past are closing in, blurring with the present, and she can’t ignore them any longer.

Her fingers move absentmindedly through Jungkook’s hair, the strands soft beneath her touch. She should feel at peace, should let herself bask in the closeness between them. But there’s something gnawing at her, something she can’t shake, even with him right here, so close, his warmth seeping into her skin. She exhales slowly, allowing herself a moment of quiet reflection, a moment to think, to remember.

It feels like a lifetime ago, the first time she met Jimin.

She remembers how she had been drawn to him instantly, the magnetic pull of his presence undeniable. There had been something intoxicating about him, the way he spoke, the way he moved. He had an ease about him, a confidence that made everything else seem irrelevant. The first time their eyes met, something in her had shifted. It wasn’t love, not exactly—but it was something powerful, something she couldn’t ignore. At first, it was fascination, then admiration, then infatuation. He’d been so charming, so kind, so understanding. She hadn’t even known what she was getting herself into when she had started spending time with him, when he began to peel back the layers of her own desires, showing her things she didn’t even know she was hungry for.

He had taken her in, so carefully, so smoothly, and in a way, she had let herself be swept away by him. By the promises he’d whispered to her in the dark, by the way he had promised her strength, power, freedom. She had believed him then, believed in his every word, thinking that this—this life—was the answer. It was intoxicating, a beautiful lie wrapped in velvet words.

But now, as she lies in the dark, with Jungkook’s head resting on her shoulder, she wonders how much of her decisions were really her own. How much of what she’d felt for Jimin had been carefully orchestrated. Had he known all along? Had he planned this? Had he known she would be the one to cross the line, the one to fall so completely for Jungkook?

It’s been almost a year since her half-life began, and already, the edges of her human memories are beginning to blur, fading into nothingness. She’s forgetting things—small things, big things—the faces of her family, the warmth of the sun, the feeling of rain on her skin. It scares her more than she cares to admit.

The line between human and vampire is thin, too thin. She feels it every day, every minute, as if the very essence of who she was is being chipped away, leaving only fragments of the person she used to be.

She knows that vampires have mates, that there is something deeper, something unexplainable between them and the person they’re bound to. She’s seen it between Yoongi and Taehyung, how they’ve been together for almost twelve years. Yoongi was the first to be changed, by Jimin himself, and the moment he laid eyes on Taehyung, there was no question. Yoongi had wanted him. Needed him. It had been instinct, a magnetic pull that neither of them could resist.

And now, it’s her turn.

She feels it in her bones. The pull toward Jungkook is undeniable, powerful in ways she never expected. From the very first time they met, she had felt it, this bond that she couldn’t explain. The chemistry between them was electric, crackling with something deep, something primal. At first, she had been terrified. Terrified of how badly she wanted him, terrified of what that meant, terrified of what would happen to her, to him, if she gave into it.

But she couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop wanting him, needing him, and that terrified her even more. The pull to be with him was too strong to resist, too deep. It was like an ache that couldn’t be filled by anything else, a yearning that clawed at her chest with every breath she took. She can’t live without him, can’t imagine a future where he isn’t there by her side, where his hands aren’t tracing the lines of her skin, where his voice isn’t whispering in her ear.

But even as she craves him, even as she longs for him in a way that consumes her, there’s the undeniable truth that haunts her: it’s her fault that he’s here. It’s her fault that he drank Jimin’s blood, that his transformation has already begun. She had known, in that moment, that it was too late. That one decision had sealed his fate, tied him to her in ways she wasn’t sure he would be able to survive.

It was her fault.

Her fault that he had gotten pulled into the mess that is her life, that he had become a part of the twisted game Jimin had started. She knows that Jimin’s manipulations have played a part in this too, in pushing them both toward this inevitable conclusion. But still, it’s her fault. If she hadn’t been so reckless, so willing to give in, none of this would have happened.

Her fingers tighten around Jungkook’s hair, the pressure grounding her, but it does little to ease the ache in her chest. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t know that, soon, he’ll be just like her. He doesn’t know that this bond they share will make it harder and harder for him to resist the pull of his own transformation. She wishes she could tell him, but she knows he would never understand. How could he? How could he understand that the very thing he’s wanted—wanted so badly—could destroy him?

A quiet sob rises in her throat, but she swallows it quickly, not wanting to disturb him. Her heart breaks for him. For them. For what they could have been, if only they hadn’t been swept into this dark, cruel reality.

She presses her face against the top of his head, inhaling the scent of him—of his skin, his warmth, his blood. It’s intoxicating, too much, and yet she can’t get enough. She feels herself unraveling at the thought of him changing, of what that will mean for both of them.

But no matter how much it terrifies her, there’s no going back. They’re tied together, bound in ways neither of them can fully comprehend. And as she lies there, with Jungkook in her arms, she realizes with a heavy heart that, no matter how much she wishes it weren’t true, she can’t live without him.

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hisunshiine · 1 year ago

Text

—immortal lust |myg|

🧛🏻 pairing: vampire!yoongi x vampire hunter!reader 🧛🏻 au/genre: vampire au, e2l, angst, smut 🧛🏻 rating: M 🧛🏻 wc: 8,783 🧛🏻 warnings: mentions of parent death (off-screen). creepy themes associated with graveyards, vampires, and vampire hunting. explicit smut: fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied bdsm, implied orgy, biting, blood drinking (vamps, duh!), use of blood for lubrication (again, vamps!) 🧛🏻 an: thank you to my beta readers @downbad4yoongi and @lo1k-diamonds and @mrsparkjimin18. I know this ws rough at first, but I think it became a very enjoyable piece of literature in the end. @colormepurplex2, thank you for the prompt to write, and congrats on earning the most points for the network in the semi-annual tally! You earned it! 🧛🏻 summary: In the shadows of a world where the supernatural breathes just beneath the surface of the mundane, you are a skilled vampire slayer from a revered family harboring a secret desire that contradicts your very existence.

🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻

This story is written for @colormepurplex2 as her gift for being the top leading point earner for our network, @bangtanwritershq and for our Quarter 2 event: Seven Deadly Sins

ᥫ᭡ AU Type: Lust — Vampire AU ᥫ᭡ Themes: Enemies 2 Lovers & Forbidden Desires ᥫ᭡ Inclusions: Bargains & Contracts, Confessions and Secrets, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood & Violence

masterlist ❁ ao3

24 Years Ago

“Why are you crying, Uncle Sol?” Eight-year-old you stands in the darkened doorway of the study, bleary eyes struggling to take in the scene in front of you.

Soleil Belmont sits in the overly stuffed, brown leather armchair in front of the fireplace. Your uncle by choice, thanks to the life-long friendship between him and your mother, Valkyrie Blake, is how he came to be in your life. The hands that cover his damp eyes wipe furiously at his cheeks, as if to hide the evidence of his tears from your sight. You didn’t even notice how he looked—the mud caked on his boots, the tattered look of his shirt under his leather jacket, the small cut by his hairline or the bruises starting to appear along his face.

“Come here, sweetie,” he asks, voice breaking as you walk in your thin nightgown across the wood floors, feet making quiet sounds with every step you take closer to him. Once within his reach, he places a clammy hand on your shoulder.

“There’s been an accident.”

The funeral itself was one of the worst days of your life, watching the twin caskets of your parents lower into the rectangular cutouts in the earth. The gleaming black lacquered wood was polished to perfection, only to be marred by the small handful of dirt you’d thrown before begging to be taken away from the graveyard, away from the scent of death and decay.

That day is when you decide you never want to experience death. You never want to be so badly injured in a car accident that your family has to have a closed casket. That you’d never see your child grow up, and leave her abandoned in this world. You hate that death is the inevitable end to life, and that fear leads you down the path you’re on now.

You - Present Day

The dream begins much like all of the other ones you’ve had as of late. You’re in an old cemetery—gothic gravestones coated in thick moss with flora obscuring the names and dates of the not-so-recently deceased. Large tombs with crumbling marble and ivy-covered wrought-iron fences, the overgrown oaks with Spanish moss reaching eerily towards your figure in the shadows from the waxing crescent moon. The dirt beneath your feet feels malleable as you step quietly past the final resting places of all of the former slayers. You’ve traversed these grounds before, more than several times in your adult life, as you’ve learned about your family, the work that they did—that you are supposed to continue—and can name all of the family lines that take their final rest here.

An eerie fog begins to rise from the ground, permeating the air until it covers your boots and ankles, weaving its way along the marble and stone placards, hiding the Lord’s Prayer epitaphs and angelic motifs from sight. A shiver raises the hair along your arms and the back of your neck and you sense him. He’s here, watching you with his luminous eyes and heightened, immortal beauty. You know he can hear the way your heart thrums in your chest, can smell the prickles of adrenaline that drip from the sweat at your hairline, and possibly the arousal as it seeps through your panties.

You attempt to refocus your thoughts away from the nervous energy, standing still. You wonder if he believes that you are doing this so as to not trip or step on dead wood littering the ground to make too much sound. You know it wouldn’t matter. Quiet as a mouse or trampling like an elephant would make no difference to this being. He is well over three centuries old, exact years he has been alive though are not documented anywhere. No one has lived after a close encounter with him to document his life pre-turning, according to the various journals and tomes housed in the slayer library.

All you know for certain is that the earliest records of the vampire known only as ‘Yoongi’ appear in the late 17th century, identify his maker as ‘Namjoon’, and his three known fledglings as ‘Heizi’, ‘Taehyung’, and ‘Hoseok’. Only one of his creations is dead—the one who killed your parents. A loud crack of lightning whips your head to the left, the flash revealing the amber backlit eyes embedded in the dark silhouette of the famed vampire crouched on the edge of the cremation tomb several yards away. Your amygdala reacts, heart rate spiking as he moves faster than you can capture—one second he’s atop the Van Helsing columbarium, the next he’s standing in front of you, strong hands clamped to your arms holding you tight, keeping you from moving. Your small but deadly sharp stake is rendered useless by your side.

There’s no time to scream, no time to do anything but hear the rush of blood through your veins as his mouth grows from a smirk to a downright smile, fangs glowing from the reflection of moonlight.

“You made it too easy, kitten,” he purrs, bringing his face closer to yours before dipping his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent as he scrapes the tips of his pointed teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck. “And to think you were able to kill Heize. I must do better at training my progeny. Oh well, another slayer to add to the crypt. You didn’t even last two minutes.”

Squirming in his grip, you try to disengage his clenched fists from your arms as his mouth descends to your thrumming artery. You wake with a gasp, hands flying to your neck to check for puncture wounds.

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Down in the gym at the bottom floor of your house—if you can call it that—you push your muscles to their extent, fists flying into the punching bag. You whip around, grabbing the thin bladed stake from the side pocket of your athletic leggings and plunge it into the second bag made for staking.

With a deep breath, you step onto the bag to pull your weapon loose, watching small bits of fluff flutter to the mat beneath you. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you check the time on the clock, noting it’s near lunchtime. Sheathing your weapon, you head up the staircase to sunlight.

On the ground floor, your eyes easily slide past the neoclassical designs along the hallway, high ceilings with blank walls, and columns lining the open floor plan with large arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The protein shake you prepared earlier sits on the top shelf in the fridge, and you grab it along with the jelly to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You’ve just finished when Soleil Belmont walks into the kitchen, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he bypasses you to the fridge.

“Can we talk?” he asks you, but you don’t want to argue with him, not when tonight could be the last time you ever talk to him.

“Sol, I have to do this. You can’t change my mind about this. He sired the vampire that killed my mom and dad. He’s killed countless people for sport, leaving behind orphaned children like me.” You hope the finality in your tone will keep him from prying or asking more questions.

It works.

“I love you. And I won’t try to change your mind. You’re much like your mother, stubborn to the very end.” Your mother’s best friend and your legal guardian until you turned 18 joins you at the table with a bowl of grapes, a look of acceptance in his eyes. “You know, if anything happens to you, I’m selling this house. It’s much too big for me and I’m getting older.”

Your eyes gaze across his features: the greying hair at the edges of his hairline, crow’s feet meeting the creases of his eyes, the weariness in the undereye circles and fine lines. He’s nearing 60, an age you don’t think you’ll live to see. An age your parents never got to be. At 32, you live on your family estate alone, with Soleil in the pool house you had renovated years ago as a Mother-in-Law suite once you turned 21 and gained your inheritance—and learned the truth about your parents’ death.

Just as much as you probably could have lived without ever knowing the truth of your parents’ lives, and their demise, you didn’t need all the space he was trying to give you, but he wanted to allow you the chance to be an adult, have a social life and you assume a sex life without having to hear it. You appreciated it in the moments you brought men back from the bar or campus library, but other times, it was just…lonely.

As a Belmont, Soleil knew about vampires. His family is well known across Europe for their work in Romania slaying creatures of the night, and Soleil’s great-grandparents moved here in the early 1800’s to spread their knowledge to others to continue hunting as the new world grew and vampires spread to the new continent. This is how your families came to be friends and fight alongside each other. Until Heize killed three of the four hunters tasked with taking her out, leaving you and Sol as the only survivors of the Belmont’s and the Blake’s.

“I think you should. I only keep it because it has everything I need to train. I could practice in peace without worrying about people judging me for all of my weapons. Most people think it’s a little weird to have wooden stakes and crossbows when working out.”

Sol chuckles, making a joke about how between the gym being littered with staked bags and the UV lights that line the entire property at night, people would be confused when purchasing, but then the light leeches out of his eyes as he looks you over.

“Remember to keep your wits about you, okay? I never wanted kids because I knew that hunters' lives never end happily, and when I lost…we lost your parents and my fiancee, I wouldn’t have had a reason to keep living if it weren’t for you.”

You decide now is best to give him the ticket and the envelope.

“Sol, I think…I think it’s best for you to go away on a trip. I think I’ll be able to focus better knowing you are out of harm’s way if you leave.” You slide the ticket across the table towards him, the envelope underneath it. “It’s a one-way ticket to Paris and enough money to be comfortable for as long as you want.”

“You don’t think you’ll survive this, do you?” Sol asks, eyes searching yours for clues, but you remain steadfast.

“Don’t worry about me, Sol,” you say and he makes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him, dealing the killing blow. “I’m not your daughter, so you don’t have to stick around anymore. Go live your life. I want you to go and live your life.”

The hurt in Sol’s eyes is visible, but your plan works. His hand reaches out to grasp the ticket, leaving the envelope of money where it’s at.

“I don’t need Blake money; the Belmont’s have enough of their own.” He takes a moment to pause, eyes locking back all emotions as he stands. “I’ll pack and leave town. Don’t be distracted.”

Soleil walks to the hallway, turning back just once. “Goodbye.”

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The past 11 years seem to be coming to a head. You’ve spent all of your time after graduating from college training for today. Ever since you learned the truth of how your parents and Sol’s fiancee died, you’ve been plotting for this moment.

As a member of the famed Blake family, vampire hunting is in your blood. As a child, you obsessed over vampires because of the ability to avoid dying, and as an adult, that obsession helped you with your training. You knew more about vampires than one would expect having been brought into the fold so late, but you put your head down and studied more, learning all you could from previous journals and occult texts to gain insight into the vampires with ties to the one called Min Yoongi.

Several years ago you went out to avenge your parents, trapping Heize in a classic bait-and-switch. You didn’t think it would be so easy since she was estimated to be around 200 years, but she fell for it simply because Soleil was the only one she didn’t kill, and in her blood haze, she underestimated you. A simple ‘accidental’ dropping of a message from Sol that said where to meet, coupled with thoughts that you and Sol made sure to keep in your head to continue the ruse allowed Heize to willingly walk into the decrepit mausoleum that was booby-trapped with the thinnest of steel wiring criss-crossing the doorway several yards inside with you and Sol on the other side.

In her haste to grab Soleil, she blurred—her speed too fast to stop her from splicing herself into pieces and effectively decapitating herself was a pleasure to watch. Grabbing the blow torches stashed in the room, her body quickly lit up with flames licking the marble walls as you made your exit.

It’s been over 5 years since then, and every second since has been spent planning for tonight.

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Laying in the coffin in his home, Yoongi awaits dusk. His body is antsy for the moment the sun is below the horizon; even in his slumber, he knows that you are out there waiting. For him. He’s followed your movements since the death of his fledgling, Heize, watching to see how this novice of a hunter could have overpowered one of his chosen flock. Imagine his surprise when it turns out that it was you—the last remaining survivor of the Blake family who knew nothing of vampires true existence until you were an adult.

But over time, he realized as novice as you were, you were skilled. Your lithe movements and ability to track his kind was a novel experience for him to observe. You took down creatures of the night in preparation for what you expressed to your guardian as training for taking out him. Yoongi laughs to himself.

He admits you’re smart, the plan you laid out is a good one, but you forgot to block your mind from thoughts of the plan several times, which allowed Yoongi to plan his counterattack. In the light of the midday sun, even from outside of his home, he sensed you as you approached and left a note. He could hear your heartbeat, hear the rustle of the paper as you placed it through the mail slot of the front door.

His eyes shot open the moment the sun fell below the horizon. Yoongi hated that he was not yet able to avoid the forced slumber that overtook his kind when the sun rose, nor that he was not averse yet to the fatigue that set in beforehand, warning him of the lack of time remaining to the night. Elder vampires, of which he’s only met two who had lived over a thousand years, were almost immortal. The ability to walk in the sun and thus are not affected by the need to sleep when it rises. Yoongi envies them, but he plans to join them one day.

He flits to the main hallway, hand reaching for the note and taking in your handwriting in seconds.

I know what you are. I want to be one of you. Please meet me tonight and turn me, or I will tell everyone vampires exist.

An address is scrawled at the bottom of the note, but he doesn’t need it. He can follow the heady scent of you to wherever you are. Even in sleep, he sensed when you drew near and his subconscious couldn’t help reading the thoughts that lay in your mind. You truly thought this ruse would work? Hell, it would’ve worked on Heize, or his other fledglings, had they not known who you were. There is fear to be had with mortals knowing of their existence; vulnerability lay in the moments that the sun is out, and a house fire could destroy a whole flock in minutes if their kind is not careful. Yoongi cursed their inability to wake while the sun was out, and now that he knows you know where he resides, he must find a new place to live out his days.

A glance at the old grandfather clock in the hallway shows him that the sun is now well and truly gone, allowing him to slip through the entrance of the home and out onto the sidewalk. He takes a deep breath, searching for your scent through the others that encompass the air around him; the grass along the road, the burnt rubber of tires in traffic, the lingering warmth of the sun before its descent, and then the faint smell of jasmine flowers after a fresh rainfall. You.

Blurring into motion, Yoongi travels several miles towards the city, slowing once other scents begin to emerge. Thin crust pizzas covered in meat and cheese, overflowing trash and body odor, and a desperation that covers the city’s nightlife with a humming buzz. The fading jasmine keeps him moving, though now at a human pace as he approaches what appears to be a dance studio. The sign above the door confirms as much, and he’s not surprised that the glass door is unlocked despite the red and white closed sign hanging at eye-level for passersby.

The floral scent grows tenfold, as if Yoongi has stepped into what he assumes your bedroom would smell like. There is a strange undercurrent that he isn’t used to associating with you, but he assumes it’s just lingering from the studio. As he walks past the lobby area, the shadows of the fake potted plants and the empty chairs intrigue him. Why you chose this place is beyond his comprehension, as a dance studio such as this one, owned by the Blake family—your family—for years, is in the middle of the city and one of the few places not related to the hidden career path of hunting. Unless you count using dance as a way to build agility for fighting those who cannot die, well at least not die easily.

Yoongi’s cockiness as he meanders closer to the hallway towards the various dance rooms leaves him caught off guard when the sound of whirring behind him causes him to move unnaturally before going eerily still. The slightest misstep is only noticed by Yoongi, whose barely beating heart seems to pick up minutely—not that anyone living or dead would be able to tell. He chuckles at your meager attempt to lock him in; a motorized grate lowering across the lobby door and windows.

His strength could easily rip the grate off of its frame, but this little game you’re playing is just too good to walk away from without seeing what you’ve planned with his own eyes. It only pops into his thoughts once he’s walked through the back studio where your scent is the strongest, that the grate lowering was not part of the plans his Mind Gift overheard from you.

So it’s only to his own surprise when the undercurrent rises to an overwhelming level and he realizes what his hubris blocked out. The mirrored room before him is splashed floor to ceiling with blood.

You - Present Day

With the scent of your blood so overwhelming to the centuries-old vampire, you watch from the corner of the room as he drifts towards the mirrors and closer to where you need him to be. Your fingertips itch on the small switchboard you hold, ready for your plan to unfold. He looks almost dazed, eyes unfocused as his fangs poke his bottom lip. He looks so different, from the way the journals make him out to be, in person he’s much more attractive, and you have to really focus to make sure you don’t miss your mark.

When Yoongi enters the area you’ve marked off with tape, you release your hold on the button that allows two things to happen simultaneously: a set of low UV flashbang grenades are set off, the mirrored walls reflecting the blinding light with a cacophony of sounds to drown out any thoughts he might try to detect, and a 4x4 cage made of the thinnest wire springs into place trapping him within its confines.

You watch him through your military-grade glasses, the lenses preventing the bright lights from disorienting you as his brilliant eyes shut against the danger they sense. He is a few centuries old, and you know that despite the direct hit of the UV light, which only lasts for a split second, the slight damage dealt to his skin heals seconds later.

But your aim wasn’t to kill him. He laughs, a loud bellyful that sounds almost joyous until you flip the second switch, which sets the alkali metal aflame. His laugh is silenced almost immediately, a growl rumbling lowly in his throat.

“What game are you playing at, little mortal?” His voice carries an edge, and you shiver with delight. You’re sure that it’s never been this easy to capture a vampire that is several centuries old, but sometimes the best laid plans are the most simple. You step forward from the corner you were in, no longer hidden as the flames light the room and you pull off the tinted lenses.

“I’m not playing any games at all.”

He glares at you, the slits of his eyes glowing an intense amber shade—an enhancement to what you predict were originally beautiful brown eyes—and you bravely take a step closer.

“Then what, praytell, would you call this,” his hand waves gingerly towards the room around him, “smoke and mirrors set up you have me in?”

“I…I want to experience being bitten.”

This time, the vampire does laugh fully, his head thrown back exposing his fangs and the long lines of his neck from his sharp jaw. His milky white collar bones are barely exposed in his black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt.

“No hunter,” he spits the word as if spitting a foul taste from his mouth, “would willingly subject themselves to a bite, to risk becoming that which they hunt.”

“I would.” Your answer rings with sincerity, at least to your own ears, and you hope that the vampire can see the longing in your eyes.

“What reason would I have to give in to this request? The promise that you’ll let me out of here before daylight comes to burn me into ash? That you’ll let me out of this fire prison you’ve created? Do I look like a fool, mortal?”

“I think you’re desperate enough to make sure tonight is not your last night on Earth, and you should know that you hold all of the cards.” You take a deep breath before sharing your deepest secret with the immortal being before you, your voice rushing with a frenzied speed. “I only learned of your existence once I was an adult. Before that, I prayed to whatever gods would listen to find a way to avoid the inevitable—to escape death. You know I grew up without parents, right?”

Yoongi only stared at you, glowing embers following your every move.

“Of course you know. I killed your progeny for their murder once I knew the truth.”

He hissed at you then, fangs extended fully as his eyes deepened with rage. He looked as if he had half a mind to grip the flame-laden cage and come after you, but held back—barely. You wait, quietly assessing him as he reins in his anger, chest no longer rising and falling in unbidden anger.

“That was a death that I deserved, and your anger will not sway how I feel about it. But it also doesn’t change what I am requesting of you. I want you to bite me.”

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Min Yoongi doesn’t believe the predicament he’s currently in. A fool! He curses himself. A damned fool to walk right into the trap you laid out for him.

The flames entrapping his body are low, but still, the heat has him on edge. His search of your mind as you speak shows no pretense, but he remembers how easily you fooled him with your thoughts just earlier today. The scent of your blood sang to him, luring him deeper into the dance studio until his mind couldn’t handle the amount; it overwhelmed him just long enough for you to pounce.

Now that the flames have had time to thrive, the smell of burning metal drowns out the worst of your scent, and he asks you questions to buy himself time to think. But he can’t understand you fully. Your actions and words do not align with what he knows of hunters, of what he knows of you from afar. To hear you earnestly wish for him to bite you, despite knowing how hard you trained to kill his fledgling, contradicts everything he thinks he knows about the prominent hunting families.

And still, your request piques his interest. The calmness of your body belies no deceit, no racing heart or skittered words as you barter with him as if discussing what to have for breakfast with a partner. And he’s studied your body, unbeknownst to you. He’s watched as you brought home men to fuck, heard the way your body reacted to their attempts at pleasure, the way your nervous system changed when you lied about seeing them again. Has smelled your jasmine scent and can’t lie that he’s wanted a taste…if only to then rip your pretty throat out.

He realizes in that moment that you do not know fully and truly what it is you are asking for. There are mysteries yet hidden from the mortal world about vampires, about their bite and the effect it has on the living when not immediately drained.

Yoongi grins, finally deciding to answer your request after long moments of thought.

“I accept your demands, hunter. I shall bite you in exchange for sparing my life.”

You - Present Day

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you walk away from his gaze to shut the door to the dance studio. You take a few deep breaths before turning around to walk back towards the switchboard, where you activate another switch.

A low hum reminiscent of fluorescent lights quietly fills the quiet of the room, to which Yoongi questions.

“Another precaution?”

You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Just my way of making sure that you stick to your end of the bargain. Should you harm me against my will, I have a way to activate those lights lining the room, which are high-powered UV lights, and not just the ones that last for a second.” You look back at the switchboard, finger searching for the one to shut off the fire and disengage the cage. “The only way out of here safely is with my blessing.”

“Afraid of me, hunter?” His query has you pause your movements.

“Afraid of you? No. You’re my best bet at getting what I want.”

Facing the vampire, you maintain eye contact as you grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in as fluid a motion as you can to leave you in just a simple underwire t-shirt bra and your denim jeans—you assume his bite will still be messy, and walking out of here covered in blood seems like a sure way to attract police attention. Again, you see Yoongi take on that supernatural stillness that only creatures of the night can achieve. His eyes are like focused lasers on your body, and you feel a thrill as you reach behind you to release him.

With unnatural speed, he blurs into your space, forcing you back towards the wall—a cold hand on your exposed hip and the other leaving a dent as it braces against the wall by your ear.

“Any of my kind could’ve given you what you wanted. It need not be me,” he murmurs as his nose trails along your jawline seductively. But in the next moment, his fingers tighten into your skin as he growls. “So why strip and offer yourself to me?”

You squirm in his grip, a sense of deja vu taking over as you remember the dream you had a couple of nights ago. “Because,” you gasp out, “you’re the oldest vampire I know in existence. Newer vampires have no control, killing almost immediately.” You arch in an attempt to create space off of the wall—you hate the way you feel trapped. You question whether you should have trusted your instincts about Yoongi.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Why would a hunter want to be bitten?” His hand leaves the wall to grab your chin. A chill sweeps down your body from the points of contact, sending goosebumps along your exposed skin. His eyes flash a luminous amber. “Tell the truth.”

Your mind feels hazy from his command, almost as if you’ve stepped outside of yourself to watch your mouth open. “I’ve always been fascinated by vampires,” your voice sounds dreamy, a wistful look upon your face, “ever since my parents died. I want to escape that fate, I want to master death.”

A low hum from Yoongi helps break the spell as his eyes ever so carefully appear to peel back the layers until he sees through to the real you. The little girl who cried at her parents funeral and vowed never to meet her maker. You sense when he makes his decision, his eyes growing lighter and his hand tilts your head to the side.

“There is much you do not know, and you know not truly what you ask for.” He inhales a breath he doesn’t need, and his voice changes, a different tone taking over. “But your body reacts—it longs for this, does it not?” he teases. “I can smell your lust, your desire.” He presses his body to yours, firm planes and muscle meeting your softer curves. You feel the closeness of his lips as they graze across yours.

A small whimper escapes your mouth. “Please,” you softly beg so your lips caress.

Yoongi’s tongue slips between your teeth in a kiss of seduction. There is no rush to his movements, only a controlled, steady pace as he meets your tongue with his. You feel his teeth prick your lip as his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. There’s no sound, except for the hum of the device and your heavy breathing. Yoongi doesn’t need to breathe.

You gasp for air when he trails featherlight kisses along your carotid artery, his hand sliding along your side and over your covered chest and onto your shoulder. Once there, he pushes your bra strap down and removes the fabric covering your breast, freeing it from the holster. His thumb circles the peak of your breast, taught from the friction. He must be enjoying the way he’s building the tension in your body, and you wonder if humans taste better to vampires when they’re aroused.

You don’t get a chance to ask. The insertion of his fangs into your neck is nothing like your dreams. The prickle of pain as they lance open your skin fades almost instantly when you feel the first pull of your blood through your veins and into his mouth.

You gasp, astonished as the euphoric feeling settles over you like a warm blanket and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you as he drinks from you in deep swallows. He’s taken in a few mouthfuls before he pulls away with a shudder that shakes his whole being.

“Divine,” he whispers, blood trailing along the sides of his chin as his hands move to fully free you of your bra, then trail along your curves. The contact is exquisite, the coolness of his hands doing wonders for the flames licking underneath your skin.

“More, touch me more, please,” you sigh, wanting nothing more than the creature who holds you in his arms. The feeling of him seems to burrow under your skin to the very depths of your soul as if he’s leaving a permanent stamp embedded.

His deft fingers cup your breast, causing you to moan with barely any movement. “Not enough!” you whine, uncaring at your petulance. Yoongi chuckles at you.

“Where do you want me to touch you, kitten? How do you want me to touch you? Under your jeans? Gentle or rough? Perhaps you want much more than that?”

You blink coquettishly, nodding yes and begging him to take more of your blood from you. Your hands reach for him, fingertips pulling at the edge of his clothes as if to free him of them. You’re rewarded with his alabaster skin, the light dusting of hair below his navel leading into the very pants your fingers fiddle with the button on.

His tongue laps at your heaving chest, and you watch as he cleans away the blood that ran from the bite he left. His fingers tug at your nipples, and you give up tugging at his pants as the sensation causes your head to fall back in a breathy whine. Your fingers have worked efficiently enough though—his pants fall to the floor and he kicks them aside to join the growing pile of clothes, and you add your jeans next in haste.

Another mewling sound leaves you when his tongue toys with your pert nipple, fangs scraping along the soft contours of your breast as he chases the last of your blood. When you feel your back hit a mirrored wall behind you, you welcome the cooling feel of the glass, though unsure of when you moved. Yoongi’s leg pries apart your thighs, hand dropping to the heat between as he presses against your still-clothed core in search of your clit. When his fingers push your panties aside and he begins to rub slippery circles against you, he chuckles lowly.

“How wet you are, indeed, pet. Yes, I think you want much more than just my bite.”

In your own mind, you agree with his words. You want so much more than just his bite because you want all of him—his bite, his touch, his cock filling you over and over as you crest in shuddering waves of insurmountable pleasure—for all of eternity. His lips drag along your neck as he speaks, leaving small kisses between his sentences. His fingers dance along your slick opening, teasing but never broaching. Not in the ways you want him to fill you.

He hikes up one of your legs so that it rests on his forearm, opening you up to him and at the same time that he plunges his fingers into you, he returns his mouth to your skin, placing a bite in the swell of your breast and drinking deeply. Your body thrums, blood pulsing slower to be in sync with Yoongi’s at every swallow of your life force.

You’ve never felt this way—no one has ever finger fucked you like this, and through the roaring of your blood in your veins, you distantly hear your own voice begging him for more. The heel of his hand makes contact with your clit, and you keen when he holds the position, fingers deep inside you to rub against the spongy patch of nerves as his wrist makes circular movements to stimulate your clit. Your hands work at the buttons along his shirt, pulling with haste and faintly recognizing the ping of the buttons as they ricochet free. Shoving the cloth off his shoulders, you’re exposed to delicate collarbones, a lean torso with blush nipples and a toned chest that tapers into a narrow waist. A small smattering of unruly black hair leads a path down the center into the briefs low on his hips.

You see starbursts behind your eyes as you cum, hard, walls fluttering rapidly around his long fingers. The air in the room is thick with need, desire running so deeply in your veins that you feel lightheaded. All you want is more, more, more. It’s not enough that he bit you, not enough that he brought you to ecstasy with just his fingers. You crave everything he has to give you. As if not of your own volition, you rock against the fingers still inside you, hands reaching to pull Yoongi’s face back towards yours.

Fingers twine with the hair at the nape of his neck, and with reckless abandon, you kiss him hard. The metallic taste of your blood mixes with a taste all his own and you relish the way the two mix into a delightful cocktail on your tongue. His fingers thrust shallowly into you as he slowly makes to remove them from your body. Your hips cant towards him, chasing the feeling until he drops your leg from his arm and you’re left empty and wanting.

The hollowness he’s left you with makes you want to cry, but when you try to pull away from the kiss and complain, he chuckles against your lips. “Hush, kitten, we’re just getting started.”

It seems like an eternity that he’s abandoned your pleasure, but with his supernatural strength, it takes mere seconds for his hands to rip your panties from your body, rid himself of his remaining clothes, bend his knees for access to hook his elbows around the backs of your knees, and lift you up. Your back slams into the glass mirror, and you feel the way it shatters around your body, but you feel no pain. Not when the new position has your core exposed to him and his velvet, steel cock is positioned at your entrance, teasing you with what’s to come.

The view of him between your thighs is amazing. Your eyes trail down his body, showing no shame as you rest them upon his cock, a blushing hue color fueled from your blood now pumping in his body. It’s erect, his lust for you is apparent as he flexes his hips. The tip sinks inside you with help from your first orgasm lubricating his entry, but he doesn’t let it get far before pulling back. He edges you with languid pumps, and you watch in anguish each time he retreats from your warmth. His cock glistens farther up each time he dips inside of you, and the unhinged, sex-craved and cock thirsty being inside you wants him covered in you, the smell of sex so overwhelming that people on the street can smell it.

“Oh, yes, kitten, everyone will know all of the depraved and debaucherous things I’m going to do to you.” He thrusts in with one fluid movement, and you swear you feel him in your chest. The fullness his girth offers splits you open like you’ve never experienced before, while his length reaches deep inside you.

A glance at Yoongi's face as he takes in your naked body proves that he too feels the snug way he fits inside of you, and is also expecting to see the bulge from the tip of his glorious cock pressing against your skin. A flash of disappointment when it doesn’t happen flits across his face, and you realize he was not joking about the depraved things he wants to do to you.

A press of his palm to your lower abdomen has your mouth open in silent pleasure as his hips swirl delectably; the pressure provides the perfect grind of his flexing muscle against every part of you that squeezes him, and the sound as he slips through you just to thrust in again only makes your lust rage more. It’s sinful, everything about the way he’s fucking you roughly is.

Gasping out sensual curses mixed with your name, Yoongi’s eyes flash an intense color, and as if reading your deepest thoughts, he pulls out of you and shifts away from the pane of shattered glass to one still intact. He flips you so that your breasts press to the mirrors. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls them backward, his feet nudging your own apart. You brace yourself with your hands on the glass, breath leaving a hazy fog with each shuddering exhale of air as you find reprieve from the fire beneath your skin with a pressed cheek to the reflective wall.

“Fuck…me…” you moan out the curse when he seats himself fully inside of you, his pelvis pressed tightly against your ass cheeks as he lets out a low, throaty growl.

“I thought I was,” he replies smartly, but the shake to his voice shows how much restraint he’s showing. You press your ass into him as much as you can, rising onto your toes for leverage. Your eyes stare at his reflection behind you, watching as he curls his body around yours to lick at your earlobe. “I had plans of killing you, dreamt of the way I would torture you before I snapped this pretty little neck of yours, did you know?”

You didn’t know for certain, but you feel like all creatures of the night have the goal of killing humans one way or another, so it doesn’t really bother you. In fact, his words make you clench around him, because the way he’s worded it seems like these are no longer his plans. He confirms as much as his hips rock back and forth in a teasing rhythm that barely sates your needs for him.

“I’ve decided that this pussy is just too good to go to waste, kitten.” His head drops into the crux of your neck, breathing deeply. “Your sweet blood calls to me, and will taste even more decadent when you cum around my cock,” his tongue swipes over your skin before his fangs burrow into you with such an all-consuming lust, you nearly sob with how good it feels. His hips begin a punishing pace as he wraps his arms around you, one hand going to hold your right breast as the other hand drops between your thighs.

The pads of his first two fingertips slip around his thrusting cock, stimulating your weeping core before moving back up to strum along your clit, matching pace with each press inside of you. “You will make such a lovely creature, don’t you think? Cum for me, kitten, and I will make sure of it.” His words trigger a deep need inside you, words that soothe an ache you’ve carried since you were a child.

Your orgasm bursts from you in an earth-shattering explosion, so heady and rippling that you fear you will black out from the strength of it. You barely feel when his teeth sink into you again. He takes a deep pull from your artery, and your high gives him exactly what you think he was searching for. It’s almost shameful the way he moans against your skin as he drinks you in, but you’re so lost to his thrall that it only makes your desire for him deeper.

His thrusts stutter until he is no longer able to hold back, and he fills you as he rips his fangs from you. His head is thrown back as he growls through his ecstasy, and you blink slowly at his reflection, eyes tracing the veins in his neck now running red with your blood trailing from his mouth.

With more restraint than you thought he had left, he turns to you and you feel a fog take over as he asks you a series of questions about getting out of this room safely. You answer them each methodically, as if you have no control over your words.

You feel yourself growing more and more tired, watching every few seconds when your eyes decide to open again from each blink, bleary-eyed as Yoongi dismantles the failsafes you put in place should things go wrong. Your chest aches for him, wanting him closer to you, touching you, drinking from you.

“Soon, 달달한 ��.” He kneels before you, dressed once again, hiding his body from you. You hate it. “It’s time for us to go somewhere safe.”

He pulls you into his arms and you preen, if you could purr, your chest would be rumbling in the pleasure of the feel of him. Your head rests on his shoulder and you try to stay awake; some part of you wants to pay attention to where you’re going, but blood loss wins as you sink into a deep slumber.

Yoongi - Several Days Later

Pain.

Your body thrashes with pain as the blood you just consumed spreads throughout your system. The last few days after leaving the ballet studio and entering Yoongi’s…home, for lack of a better word, has been full of the most exquisite satisfaction your body has ever experienced. You told him as much each night since arriving.

He’s reveled in giving into his most debased fantasies, and your body is covered in the proof; bruises littering your skin, chafing around your wrists and ankles, blood staining the rug beneath his feet where he now stands, watching you.

Yoongi hasn’t turned a mortal in almost 200 years—not since he turned the one you killed. You make a better replacement for her in many ways, he thinks. Your beauty, your mind, your 달달한 피, or sweet blood, which he can’t wait to taste once you’re resurrected. And because this is the longest he has gone since bestowing the Dark Gift upon a being, not to mention that he is closer to 400 years than he likes to admit, he is sure you will be powerful beyond belief.

He heals his wrist and glances at the time; he chose to turn you at sunset so he had time to prepare before he needs to rest. The marble walls that surround the underground basement bedroom of Yoongi’s home echo with your sounds of pain, so Yoongi leaves you in the bed as he ventures towards another wing. He knows that when the sun sets again, you shall be ravenous, and he needs the help of his brothers to bring in enough sustenance for when you wake.

His maker, Namjoon, lounges in his study with a beautiful woman straddling his hips. Her skin tone is darker than his, and their coloring makes a beautiful picture of caramel and chocolate swirls. She is draped over him, arms wrapped around Namjoon’s neck as she bucks her hips slowly against him, no doubt riding his cock now for several hours. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to enter and approach him; he’s used to such displays.

Namjoon licks his lips as he pulls his mouth from her neck, and then smiles up at Yoongi from his couch.

“Well done, enthralling the last of that hunter family. One less family we need to worry about.”

Yoongi focuses on Namjoon’s face, trying to ignore the whimpering moans from the woman getting off in front of him. It’s making his own cock stir, and he’s tempted to join in, but then he wouldn’t have time to gather the blood you need. He indulges for a few moments longer though, watching the way her supple breasts press against Namjoon’s firm chest as she kisses along his neck.

“You can join, brother. Would you like her mouth or her ass?”

Yoongi shakes his head but continues to enjoy watching the beautiful woman as she rides his maker. He’s tented in his jeans, but that’s also a normal occurrence for all of the men living here, since you can always find someone having sex at any moment.

“I wanted to let you know that I will be inviting a few mortals over. I plan to head out with the others and gather a few.”

Glee arises on Namjoon’s face. “You’ve given her your blood, brother? Oh, this is brilliant. Another one to add to our flock! We haven’t had anyone else in years.” He sighs out in content and then murmurs something into the woman’s ear which has her shuddering. He sinks his fangs into her to enjoy her orgasm before turning back to Yoongi.

“I can’t wait to meet your newest fledgling, Yoongi. I must know though…will you be possessive or is she one we all can share?”

Yoongi smiles, his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he grins at his maker over the shoulder of the woman who is now leaning away, head thrown back as she bounces on Namjoon’s cock with a fierceness of someone chasing a fourth or fifth orgasm.

“I think she may be open to sharing, brother, she should awake tomorrow at sunset.”

Yoongi turns away with a chuckle as he heads to find any of the other five of their flock to accompany him to the bar.

You - The Next Sunset

It’s disorienting how clear everything looks to you. You gasp as a hunger you’ve never felt before takes you into its grip and takes over your mind. Lurching out of the bed you’ve been fucked in every which way since arriving, you clutch at your neck. The hunger burns.

“Come here, kitten, I’ve got what you need right here.”

You turn to the voice, and a bright splash of scarlet comes into view. You don’t even think about it, you just bring it to your mouth and drink messily. You latch on and slurp down as much as you can, wanting every last drop to sate the intensity, but the voice tugs you away. You feel anger but then you’re given another warm mouthful of scarlet and indulge gluttonously.

This time, when the voice calls to you, there is no anger, only a need to follow, to go to the voice and await more from it. From him. Yoongi. Your memories flood you all at once, a pulsing thrum as your pussy throbs now that the blood from the drowsy humans is in your veins, and you search for him.

When you find him, you stumble up from your knees away from the bodies and throw yourself into his arms. You realize you’re still naked when he maneuvers your body so that your thighs are on either side of his, bulge from his jeans rubbing your core from the friction. Leaning into you he kisses you languidly, tongue cleaning up some of the mess you left behind before swirling with your tongue to share the taste of the humans in a kiss.

Your hips grind against him, the kiss turning sexual in moments and Yoongi growls in response to your libido, now heightened after death.

“Fuck,” he groans as you unzip his jeans and reverently pull his cock from his boxers, and using a combination of the blood dripping on your chest and your spit, begin to stroke him with firm movements.

Moments later you return to your first position, straddling Yoongi as you sink onto him repeatedly, one hand gripping your ass and the other in your hair, keeping your mouth on his.

‘Just like that, beautiful, he likes when his cock is buried deep inside a pretty girl.’

You gasp as you hear a melodic voice in your head, turning your head behind you to see six men watching you take Yoongi’s cock as his lips trail down your neck and chest.

You cock an eyebrow at the men, all so beautiful, you could cry at their jaw lines and angles, broad shoulders and dilated eyes.

“Yoongi, I didn’t realize you liked an audience,” you tease as you slow your movements and put on a show, pushing Yoongi’s shoulders down to the mattress so that when your chests meet, the view of how well you take him, how well he splits you open as you sink down and envelop him to the hilt, is visible to all of them.

“I like an audience, kitten, and sometimes I like when the audience joins in.” The look he’s giving you as you continue to ride him lets you know the question he’s asking you.

“With this new immortal lust of mine, I think I’d like that too.”

Sealing your decision with a bite to Yoongi’s neck, you take a deep pull as you feel the bed dip with the weight of the others joining you for what you hope will be the height of immortal lust that will last an eternity.

The END

달달한 피 (daldalhan pi)- “sweet blood”

346 notes · View notes

darkpuppysuit · 5 months ago

Text

~Sunshine and Rain~

Pairing: Vampire!YoongixHuman!Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: Blood, murder, angst, pain, loss, DEATH, disease, starvation, mention of suicide, cursing (it's a given at this point bruv)

~You brought me sunshine

when I only saw rain.

You brought me laughter

when I only felt pain.~

"I'm terribly sorry- you just remind me of someone I used to know."

Min Yoongi was never prideful, not once during his mortal life would he call himself romantic either, but with you- hell he was the most prideful and lovey-dovey man you had ever met, but only ever for you.

You a simple young woman of London's high society, the Queen's diamond of the season and him- nothing more than a artist for others including royalty. The two of you were never meant to cross paths but as luck would have it, you managed to catch his eye that fateful night.

A night that doomed him to a living hell the moment he first spoke to you- something the pair of you never saw coming.

The two of you had talked for most of the night and for once Yoongi was actually trying to impress a woman. His close friends Seokjin and Namjoon, two fellow artists, watched on as their usually guarded and reserved friend- charmed the woman in front of him.

He was everything you wanted and more, he was a man made of stone and soft silk. He was rough at the edges but soft in the middle. His hands were calloused from working with different materials over the years that he painted and sculpted with- he even did some woodwork for a few months which gave him a few more scars than he cared for.

Yoongi loved your hands, they were soft and delicate when he first got to hold them. He wasn't too sure about it at first, because a woman of high society London was to keep her gloves on at all times while she was being courted- though he wasn't courting you officially. Even so the two of you managed to escape your prying older brother and mother for at least an hour.

In that hour you and Yoongi had done nothing but laugh and enjoy each others company under a willow tree- keeping an eye out for your family all the while. He had told you about the many places he had visited over the years- the royal families he had painted on large canvases... really the royalty was nothing to bat an eye at- nothing but a bunch of self righteous, spoiled ass brats the lot of them.

Or so he would say at least twice, only because it made you laugh.

Eventually your eldest brother James had found the two of you under the old willow tree and scolded you right in front of him, like a child. Yoongi fumed at the exchange but was forced to keep his mouth shut- for if he was to say anything to your brother he would need to put a ring on it to have a say in anything pertaining to you.

A few weeks would pass and the two of you would send letters to each other, each one more poetic and lovesick than the last.

Yoongi was at the palace with the Queen- so getting letters to and from your residence was quick and easy since your family didn't live far from the palace. He would send you little snippets of how his day was, how insufferable the Queens brat children had been for their portrait- moving every minute it seemed. Why those little brats couldn't sit still was beyond him.

But he could never hold his excitement when you told him you missed him and wanted to see him soon. He held his head high and kept a smile on his face those days. Never once snapping at the royal children or the Queens grandchildren like he normally would, his head would always wander to the clouds when there was a small lull in the portrait process.

He would look to the bright blue sky outside the large, gold trimmed windows and imagine you're looking up at the same blue sky as he was in that very moment. He turned into such a lovesick fool he hadn't paid anyone else much attention anymore, not even his two closest friends. They had tried to get Yoongi to come out with them, to live a little instead of entertaining the thought of the two of you ever truly being together.

Did he listen to them?

Of course not.

Should he have listened to them?

Without a doubt.

But he was young, dumb, and in love- how was he to know the life he had promised you would go up in flames?

That night- oh that night was a whirlwind of emotion and hidden kisses- secret meetings between acts of some play that was going on at the opera house for the Queen who was in attendance. You two paid it no mind- especially when you were too lost in everything that was him, well hidden somewhere far from the opera stage.

Yoongi had mentioned in passing that you two were soulmates, destined to find each other in every lifetime no matter who you became. It was silly at the time but when he had snuck into your room one late night when he couldn't sleep- it began to make sense to you.

He had stayed a respectful distance from you to keep your reputation and honor intact and you understood that much. But as the hours wore on between hushed words and silent laughter you had grown restless- you wanted to be closer to him in everyway that was possible.

That was the first night he had let himself be selfish for once. He had memorized every curve, every dip of your body. Every freckle, every mole and blemish that made up your skin- leaving kisses on each one of them no matter their location. The way his large rough hands roamed over your bare skin was reverent, as if he was painting your body with his skilled hands- it sent shivers down your spine every time they ghosted over your naked body.

The very next day he had pushed by every single suitor that stood by the parlor door of your families generational home- ignoring the shouts and heinous words thrown his way. Really if those men were here to court you the least they could do was keep their words clean of profanities, honestly.

He had barely pushed by the last younger man, barreling into the vast parlor and nearly tripping over his own feet like a fool and maybe he was in that moment. Because when he looked up he saw your brother James, standing just in front of the floral loveseat looking at him like he had just disgraced his entire family by stumbling in the way he had- that was the first and last time Yoongi was a little cowardice.

Yoongi adjusted his collar and suit lapels- a suit he had used the last of his money to buy from the tailor, he wanted to at least look presentable for your family- maybe then they'd give him a chance, that's all he wanted. Your mother had looked him up and down with a searing gaze sizing him up like cattle meant for slaughter- it made Yoongi so damn nervous because even if your brother approved of him- the one who held his fate in her hands was your mother.

Yoongi swallowed thickly as he introduced himself to the only two of your family members present. He didn't have any flowers with him- he should have grabbed some when he passed by the floral shop in his rush to get here before someone could take you from him- since it was the last week of the season. But he was so focused on getting here that he didn't have much time to think after he left the tailors- he left in such a rush that he still had some lingering thread attached to his coat tail.

Your mother wasn't all that impressed with the artist but your brother- he was completely taken by Yoongi and his stories. The way he told them- it felt as if he was right there living it with him. Yoongi really did have a way with words or so he thought. All was going well until your mother stopped him mid-sentence stating that was enough and that she had heard all she needed and waved Yoongi off without so much as a glance in his direction.

Yoongi, who was once so sure he was going to be able to impress your mother, visibly deflated in front of the pair of them and James could only give him a tight lipped smile and a firm pat on the back. The artist walked back down the stairs he had earlier ran up with a racing heart and a dream, he knew it was foolish to think he could have you but goddamn it all to hell- he was in love with you and he would have you in the end. He had already taken your honor and by whatever God above he was going to marry you one way or another.

He stomped out of the manor that day fuming and seething with anger, how could your hag of a mother dismiss him so easily? Was it because he was nothing but a wandering artist? Sure he painted for royalty but the pay never kept his pockets full for long. He could give you the world and more- more beyond just money, he could give you a life full of travel and wonder. He could take you to Paris, Rome, even the Americas if you wanted to go. He would take you anywhere you wanted, all you needed to do was ask and he would move mountains for you.

That same night he had snuck into your room like he had so many times before- you were still awake reading a book by candle light, laying in your bed with your beautiful hair draped against your shoulders and across your pillow. You looked breathtaking to him, your pale face dusted in a light shade of pink when you heard him open your window after he scaled the fencing on the side of the manor leading to your bedroom.

Yoongi put a finger up to his perfect lips, silently telling you to keep quiet as he gently set his feet onto the wood below him. He was careful of the few spots where the old wood would creak under pressure and after a moment he was with you on your bed, his lips instantly finding yours in a passionate kiss. He caressed your cheek, his touch lingering down to your neck and pulling you closer to him as much as he could in that position.

He broke the kiss in need of air and once he caught his breath, he told you everything that had happened this morning since your father had chaperoned a stroll with you and another suitor before he got there. You were taken aback when he told you the events of the morning, your mother was never one to just dismiss someone so rudely but she did it to Yoongi, the man you loved more than anything in this world or the next.

With a wild look in his eyes- he asked you to run away with him, to leave all of this high society bullshit behind. He wanted to take you out of the ton and away from all of the prim and proper stuck up assholes in it- he didn't say it like that but you got the picture nonetheless. Of course you jumped into his lap happily and kissed him with a sunshine smile after but he had to hush you again and told you to keep it down and to find some clothes to ride a horse in and put them on.

The two of you climbed onto the back of the "borrowed" horse with nothing but the clothing on your back, a satchel full of food and a decent amount of coin to get you through your journey until you'd have to stop for food and maybe a room to sleep in for the night.

The days went on like just like that, the two of you staying no more than a night in a crappy hotel- to save some money of course. Most of your days were filled with laughter and sunshine- the ever present fear that Yoongi once held in his heart of never having the chance to really be with you- to marry you was gone. Stomped into the dirt- along with the pain in his chest he felt that day your mother basically told him to fuck right off.

Yoongi- the artist, married you a few months into your new life together and he couldn't be happier. You two had settled in a small town surrounded by people and as the times changed- more steam powered machines made their way into the world. That meant more bodies and the need for more housing- you two managed to keep your small one bedroom house all to yourselves for the most part.

The town had built more buildings and housing on either side of your home to accommodate the slew of people pouring in from all around for new jobs working the machines that powered the factories and among other things too.

Soon the small town was bustling into a city- a disgusting rat infested city. There was hardly a place the two of you could go without stepping on a rats tail or someones foot. There were people- adults and children too- everywhere, most of them were on the streets begging for food or coin to buy food.

You and Yoongi kept mainly to yourselves as a uncommon disease spread through the slums- taking nearly every man, woman, and child's life. If there was a need to go out Yoongi left you at home to keep you safe- giving you a sweet kiss goodbye before he walked out the door- the last time he didn't kiss you before he left he got held up by a few of the poor and sick, he swore to always kiss you before he left and maybe that way he could possibly avoid them. The dead also began to pile up in the streets leaving behind a foul odor of rot and decay- needless to say whatever this terrifying disease was it had a high mortality rate.

No matter how hard the two of you tried to stay healthy there was no stopping the disease- you had nearly every home remedy stashed in your pantry yet none of them seemed to help when Yoongi fell prey to this wild and terrifying disease.

First like many other diseases- it started with a fever then a horrible cough- if you were part of the lucky few the disease would go away on its own. But if you were one of the many unlucky few the cough would turn into throwing up anything you tried to eat, making your body weaker and weaker as the days dragged on.

Then came the blood- oh god the blood- Yoongi had been laying in bed for weeks and he began to cough up blood, so much of it mixed with whatever else came up. You didn't fair much better either but while Yoongi was knocking on deaths door, you had fallen ill as well.

It was difficult for the sick to take care of the sick but at least this way it wouldn't spread to others. The days were long an miserable- the two of you could hardly get out of bed to take care of one another.

But as Yoongi had somehow gotten better-still sick as hell but better- you were still laying in bed sweating bullets and coughing up too much blood for his liking. He begged many doctors to help you but none of them would even dare come to the district you two lived in. It was dark, damp and filthy which he understood but you were the love of his life, his wife and he couldn't just sit idly by and watch you die- if it came right down to it Yoongi would have taken his own life so he didn't have to live an empty existence without you.

Tonight was the night he would die, just not how he thought he would.

He had just sold one of his many paintings of you for a decent sized pouch of coin and was on his way back to you through a dark corpse filled alleyway. This money would pay for two weeks worth of food by itself and anything else you needed- Yoongi kept the pouch in his hand with a smile on his face as he walked down a few stairs and under an archway.

It happened so quickly he didn't have a chance to take a breath when something had ran by him and stabbed his neck with a sharp object.

Yoongi hissed and put his hand up to his neck and when he brought it in front of him he was mortified- eyes blown wide and he almost screamed but the pain that surged through his body stunned him into silence and he fell to the ground choking on air and soon blacked out.

When he awoke next everything felt new- like he wasn't sick at all. Colors were brighter- he could see everything from the flying birds to the smallest of insects.

The air around him didn't smell just of rotten flesh- he could smell the bakery a few blocks from where he stood, the perfume shop further down the road was an intense wall of different scents- so much so it made his head spin.

He could see the small specks of ash from the nearby factory floating in the air around him- he could hear the shop keep in the pottery shop to his right fight with his wife upstairs- he also heard two different speeds of rhythmic thumping.

What happened to him?

Yoongi didn't have a chance to question his new- whatever this was- as his head turned on a swivel when he heard a few men shout at each other down the street- close to his home, close to you. He barely heard any of their words but the few words he did hear made his heart drop to the ground at his feet.

Yoongi had never ran so fast in his life- it felt as if his surroundings blurred together and the wind like a hushed hum past his ears.

That's when he saw it- saw them...

They had torches and a few buckets of something clear and were pouring it on the houses surrounding his- and before he could act everything went up in roaring flames right before his eyes, everything including his own home where you laid helpless on the bed unable to scream or even shout.

The candles must have gone out because if they hadn't those idiots wouldn't have laid waste to the surrounding buildings by burning them like they do with diseased bodies.

Yoongi fell to his knees-tears streaming down his pale cheeks like waterfalls. He was angry-pissed even, but most of all he was in agony because he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Once the fire was out he tentatively walked into the charred remains of what was once the home you shared with him.

Everything was burned to ash- nothing was left of value to him... not even you.

When he saw your remains he fell to his knees once more beside the small bed you two once shared. The blood curdling scream that ripped through his throat was as if someone had stabbed him in the chest- straight through his undead heart.

He stayed there crying and sobbing over you for hours- but when he was done, his eyes glowed red- something had snapped inside him... Something that kept him sane during the hardships you two had endured together.

He was a man- or whatever he had become- on a mission. He knew what the men who had burned you alive smelled like so it was easy for him to hunt them down like animals.

These bastards wanted to act like animals- he was going to slaughter them all like animals and whoever got in his way would meet the same fate as them.

He skulked around the city- in the shadows moving as silent as death itself.

The first man he found was drunk at a pub about half a mile from the slum district. He was an older man with a round stomach and greying facial hair- Yoongi knew he was one of the eight men that had killed you... he could smell it on him.

He waited until the man stepped into the alley to take a piss and that's when he attacked. He didn't get the chance to scream in horror before Yoongi grabbed him by the throat and ripped it out of him- the man fell to the ground with a thud.

Yoongi quickly moved onto his next target. This one was another older man- only he was thinner and walking down the alley with a few of his friends.

Yoongi used his newfound speed to his advantagethis time- he slowly stalked closer at first... then just as the man turned around Yoongi plunged his hand into his chest and yanked his heart out if his chest with a wicked grin.

The man's friends screamed like little girls when his body fell limp onto the ground with a gaping hole in his chest- Yoongi was already gone by the time they began scanning the area for him, too consumed by his deep hunger for revenge.

When he found the last bastard he was at home eating dinner with his family. Yoongi watched from the darkness through their dining room window- his glowing eyes the only thing seen in the alleyway.

Once the family had all gone to bed he climbed the fire escape of the tall building- letting the mouth watering aroma of this man's blood guide him.

He broke locks with his bare hands as if they were made of butter- but he took his time getting to his last victim. He wanted to enjoy it this time, because this fuck was the one who lit it all up with a torch.

Yoongi broke the door handle to this assholes home quickly and slithered inside under the cover of night. He found the children's room first but closed and locked it by crushing the handle- not enough to break it but just enough to render it useless so they couldn't open it.

Then he found their parents room- the door was cracked open slightly. Yoongi pressed the pads of his slender fingers against the wood- opening the door as silently as possible.

He walked in- his steps feather light and stood on his side of the bed and watched him sleep. Yoongi shoved the man's shoulder after a moment passed- the man woke up with a jolt and his gaze instantly fell on the dark figure with glowing eyes standing in front of him.

He was about to scream when Yoongi held his index finger up to his lips to hush the man and surprisingly he complied. Yoongi's lips cracked into a creepy cheshire grin as he kneeled down to the man's height.

He grazed the man's head with his pale hand and hushing him pretending to be worried- then he grabbed the man by the back of his head and yanked it back to make the man look him into his cold dead eyes.

"You took the only one that kept me sane- and now you- and your family- are going to pay for her death with your life."

With deadly accuracy Yoongi wretched his head back and long, sharp fangs had pierced through his gums and around his eyes darkened- he bit into the man's throat forcing the scream that was caught in his throat to ring out into the room, waking up his wife.

Yoongi had swiftly grabbed her by the neck and ripped out her throat like he had so many others while he feasted on her husband like a man starved. He had no clue what possessed him to drink from the man's neck but fuck did it taste divine.

Once Yoongi had killed the parents and taken his vengeance for his beloved, he walked back home- back to you covered in blood from his mouth down his chest- the crimson liquid having stopped right at his belt.

It would be months before Yoongi even thought about leaving you alone ever again- maybe he was going insane but he like to pretend you were still alive. Going as far as to talk for you when he asked you a question but didn't answer.

There would be days he would cry over your charred body- others he would kill anyone who came near his home- his love. On those days he would scare everyone sometimes himself too, eventually his district became known as; The Blood District.

Most humans would stay far away from that area, scared for their lives and rightfully so- Yoongi liked it that way... at least now people would stop looking for him- the ripper. A name that would put fear into every man, woman and child for years to come.

That was well over 230 plus years ago and Yoongi never forgave himself for it- not a single day went by that he didn't blame himself for your death. He was so close yet so far that night, he couldn't stop those bastards as they lit the house on fire to keep the mystery disease from spreading- thinking nobody was inside.

That was the same night he had killed over a dozen or more men- ripped their throats out of their necks or wretched their hearts clean from their chest. He couldn't stop himself he was in pain and anguish- oh how he nearly became insane as he danced down the brick roads and allies- maybe he was insane. Yoongi knew that if he had his way- he would've painted that entire city blood red.

In today's world Yoongi was a doctor- a traveling doctor, he still got to travel all over the world- while helping both humans and vampires that had fallen on hard times.

It's something you would've done had you gotten the chance to- even during your last days you made it a point to try and help anyone who asked for it.

The few vampires that made up his clan- including his maker, Hoseok- who had managed to convince Yoongi to finally bury you somewhere your soul could be free nearly a year after your death- only one was younger than Yoongi the rest were eighty to three hundred years older than him.

Hoseok and Yoongi never got a long in the beginning- the younger vampire always, without fail- blamed his maker for keeping him from you that night. But as the years passed and the tears stopped- Yoongi learned to accept what was and what wasn't.

What was- Yoongi was a vampire who had endless wealth and an endless life. Free to roam the earth and anywhere he wanted to be- as long as he came home every couple months or so.

What wasn't was you- you were dead and long gone from his grasp for the afterlife was a place he could never reach. There was never a day he didn't think of you- looking up at the stars imagining you were looking down on him and his damned soul from the heavens.

Countless times Jimin- a vampire only older than him by eighty years- tried to comfort his brother. He would accompany Yoongi many times to your grave so he wouldn't be alone.

Hoseok and Jimin had made sure to give you the best headstone money could buy- Yoongi had engraved your portrait into the stone himself... with the same hands that once held you so close to him.

On days Yoongi would visit after he'd come home from wherever he was- he would stay with you most of the time, there were days he'd sleep by your grave- even if he had to pretend to sleep sometimes.

It brought him comfort and solace in the oddest of ways- Hoseok would worry for him and often came to your grave in secret... laying down a single tulip before waking Yoongi up from the trance he was in and going home.

Home was this old castle out in the woods- long forgotten but still in imaculent shape- sure the stones were older than dirt and covered in thick vines and moss- but inside was still as grand as a castle should be.

The castle had high walls with many large paintings- a few of which Yoongi had painted himself- and quite a few works of his old friends of the past- Seokjin and Namjoon.

The trim was golden of course with pearly white walls, a grand chandelier as you first walk in with a grand staircase leading up to the bedrooms- which most were used for storage but a few housed the vampires who were sired to Hoseok.

Yoongi kept the room with an old grand piano inside when he first arrived to his new home- the once cluttered and dusty room was cleaned and some furniture was put in to make it livable and over the years Yoongi had collected small trinkets that reminded him of you... each of them made him smile and wonder just how much you would cherish them if he could give them to you.

Yoongi had a difficult time going on without you- during his early years as a vampire he would always keep to himself- hugging the one poorly painted portrait of him you had done to his chest every night and quietly sobbing to himself.

Most days were always harder than the last but after 120 years he learned to cope with the empty feeling in his heart- he never truly moved on but what can one possibly do when you're immortal and not even your favorite whiskey tasted the same?

Their youngest- Jungkook- managed to coax Yoongi out for a night on the town after years of begging the older vampire, Yoongi only went to get him to shut the fuck up for once.

When he entered the club the flashing lights blinded him and the music made his sensitive ears feel as if they were bleeding. Nonetheless he pushed through the sea of bodies to a secluded corner of the club.

Jungkook and Jimin were having the time of their immortal lives- convincing young men and women alike to their corner of the world and nearly sucking them dry- they never killed anyone though, they simply drained them until they were too loopy to remember their encounters the next day.

Yoongi however hated feeding on humans- especially after his days as a ripper- the taste was like swallowing silver to him and he'd throw up any human blood he drank after.

Yoongi fed on animals in the woods- it wasn't much to keep his strength up but it kept him from starving and turning to ash, so he couldn't complain much. He'd always keep a pouch of animal blood on his person should he need it.

Jimin tried to get Yoongi to quote: to get over someone he needed to get under someone else. The thought repulsed him- to even think he could forget you by fucking another human was absurd.

But he tried to- he walked a young girl back to her apartment after talking with her all night- he didn't do much talking but the girl was like a broken record, doing all the talking for him.

That had to be the worst mistake of his long life that he had ever made. Nothing happened of course- nothing tangible at least- it was merely a simple kiss to her lips... after she had walked into her apartment and closed the door he was disgusted with himself.

Yoongi had sped down the two flights of stairs and into the dimly lit alley next to the apartment complex and wretched the blood bag from his pocket and sucked it dry just to get the lingering taste of her out of his mouth.

When he got back home though- he was seething pissed and went straight to his bedroom upstairs- slammed the door shut making the wood crack under pressure and fell to the floor in front of the last work he ever painted of you, in a few of your last days on earth.

The painting was mediocre at best because when he'd painted it he was still trembling with a high fever- but it captured some of your beauty, had the faintest hint of your perfume still on it and it was the only painting he never sold.

You were laying on your shared bed asleep- like you were for the most of your last living days- your wedding ring he had bought for you stood out the most against the pale colors he had used. Your long hair draped over the sweat soaked pillows- your pink cheeks pressed against them in a deep slumber.

It wasn't his best work but he had to keep your memory alive somehow- a Yoongi was on his knees in front of you his face void of all emotion until the tip of his index finger brushed your painted cheek and that's when he lost it.

Yoongi has screamed so loud and full of pain Hoseok and Taehyung who had just gotten home from hunting thought someone had plunged a silver dagger into his undead heart.

He stated in his room for days until a call came in from a vampire he had helped just last year- Yoongi didn't want to leave, it took him two days after the call just to get up and pack what he needed for the trip.

After he had made it to Rome he booked a hotel room for the night and out of the corner of his eye he barely caught long hair flowing past a corner and laughter that sounded just like you- bright, happy, and full of life.

He couldn't snatch his key card from the staff fast enough and just as the woman who sounded just like you had nearly shut the door it happened.

The two of them made brief eye contact before the door was closed and it was like his heart had started beating again- he knew those eyes, those beautiful mesmerizing eyes all too well.

Maybe this was father time playing a cruel joke on him- maybe this was a punishment from the gods perhaps. Either way Yoongi had to know- needed to know if what he saw was truly real and not a figment of his imagination.

But he couldn't bring himself to knock on her door- he stood there for a moment before shaking his head of the absurd thought and walked away to his hotel room- that so happened to be a few doors down from hers.

The next day he had exited the hotel without seeing the woman again- Yoongi kept telling himself it was all in his head, that what he saw was nothing but the ghost of you he longed to see.

Yoongi tried to keep his thoughts clear as he walked through the streets of Rome and he managed just fine until he heard your laugh again.

He was just three blocks down from his destination but he took a detour and followed the adorable melody around corners and small alleyways until he stopped a few feet from an old coffee shop.

Back when he was human Yoongi would frequent this very coffee shop nearly every time he'd visit Rome- but as he scanned the outside tables he saw her- he saw you.

Sure your hair was a different color and your skin was a shade or two darker but it was you- his love, his wife, his reason for being- sitting at a table with a few others he assumed were your friends.

You looked different yes but your laugh was the same and your eyes- oh gods your eyes we're still the same color and your eyes still squinted into little crescents when you laughed with your whole chest.

Yoongi was frozen to the spot, sticking out like a sore thumb with his black clothing against the colored buildings- you looked at him, right at him- it was as if time stopped and everything slowed down to this single moment.

Yoongi took a deep breath and forced his feet to move forward- he crossed the street like an idiot nearly hit by a speeding scooter- his gaze never left yours though. Once he had made it a foot or two from you he stopped- not speaking a single word just staring.

You weren't sick, you weren't pale as death itself- you were here smiling and full of life laughing with your friends- looking at him for the first time in centuries.

"Do we know each other?"

Oh hell your voice was even the same- if his heart was still beating it would've stopped for the second time in his life- he swallowed the lump in his throat and his gaze broke from yours when one of your friends coughed to clear their throats.

He felt small- nearly picked apart by their eyes like he had been with your mother all those years ago- he felt like the same lovesick fool he was when he was alive. His pale cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink as he kicked an imaginary rock- then he looked back to you.

"I'm terribly sorry- you just remind me of someone I used to know."

A/N: I decided to write differently for this one, it's giving Blood Sweat and Tears meets Bridgerton. (?) At least that's how I hope it came across in the very least.

I was also inspired by another vampire fic that I cannot seem to find fucking anywhere, like it fell off the fucking planet- I love that for me.

Please leave your comments or asks for me I really do love hearing from you guys!

ALL 133 OF YOU CRAZIES!!! <3

Also let me know if you'd like a part two or an epilogue to this because if so I'll definitely write it, all you have to ask me honest!

Love you lots, Aly

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

Text

Yoonkook

𝓓𝓸 𝓡𝓮 𝓜𝓲 [Intro]

They say it only takes one bite for a vampire to get addicted.

Tags/Warnings: Vampire!Yoongi, Vampire!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, poly AU, emotional confusion, blood (duh), did I mention Angst, fluff, romance, drama

Length: 3k words I think

There is no taglist for this fic!

A/N: Hi yes I wrote this somewhat drunk at a barbecue restaurant guys pls I didn't check ANY grammar this time

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Jungkook never wanted this life. He never chose to be like this, never made the same mistakes Yoongi did when he was younger. So even to this day, Yoongi sometimes feels a certain sense of pity for the young man.

Yoongi got infected when he was not even twenty years old. He chose the risk- knew what could happen if he was to participate in underground blood trading. But he needed the money. He needed to survive. And back then, even now, the quickest way to make a lot of money, is by offering your blood.

It didn't even take a month until he noticed the first signs of infection.

Fatigue, loss of sensation in hands and feet, odd food cravings and night sweats. It turned into cramps, dizziness, headaches and migranes, soon to be followed by nausea and the inability to really function anymore. He couldn't concentrate on anything. He couldn't live like this.

When he was sent to the ER by a roommate of his, back then, he already knew what would happen. And later that night, he was diagnosed.

Vampirism.

Yoongi wasn't surprised. Neither was Seokjin, his roommate, who knew what he had done to gain the money he needed to fund his survival. It didn't surprise anyone.

Everything changed.

He had to carry a specific passport of some sorts with him from then on, one that would hold all information regarding his condition, blood donations, everything. Even criminal records- though to this day, Yoongi has never had anything written down like that in his booklet. He's a calm one- or so the nurses say whenever he visits the donation center to receive his monthly donation.

Yoongi actually worked as an introductory patient here and there- helping new donors who feel scared of donating blood to someone with vampirism for the first time.

It's how he met Jungkook.

jungkook got infected only two years ago- by a now former lover, who never told him that she carried the infectious disease. She had promised, assured him that she wasn't carrying the active variant of vampirism- but that she instead was a 'sleeper', unable to infect other people by bite. And with jungkook so in love and trusting, he had believed her.

She had almost killed him, Yoongi now knows. Had almost murdered the young man who had done nothing to ever deserve to be used like that.

Today, Jungkook trusts again. Jungkook is happy again- he smiles, and grins, and loves everything around him again. Well- or so he would, if he could.

"Maybe today.." Yoongi offers, helping his now partner up the small set of stairs into the donation center. "I'm sure they'll have something for you today." he mutters, though he doesn't really believe it himself.

It's been months.

It happened almost three months prior, when suddenly no blood donation seemed to improve Jungkook's situation anymore. He just got sicker and sicker, like Yoongi when he was first infected and refused to get help or seek treatment- but for Jungkook, there was no treatment. The only thing they could do was test out other blood types-

but nothing worked.

And today, he waits again. Hour after hour, Jungkook already asleep on his shoulder in the waiting room, patient after patient being called in and leaving again-

but no one calls his name.

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You almost trip as you walk into the waiting room, apologizing silently to the people sitting down close by. There's an elderly lady, a mother with a young child- and two young men, one of them sleeping against the shoulder of his friend next to him, who seems to anxiously type away on his phone.

"Ah yes, we got your blood results today.." the nurse says, typping through some things before her eyes widen. "Let me just.. uh- let me ask something real quick, yeah? I'll be right back!" she rushes out, walking into a different room with some papers she'd printed out, leaving you a bit concerned with yourself as you stand there, next to where the two young men sit. One of them groans a bit, as if in pain- and you now notice how pale he is, sweat covering his forehead.

"I know, I'm sorry.." the man next to him sighs, watching how his friend's face scrunches up for a moment. "Fuck this." he suddenly mumbles, waking his friend up. "hey- Jungkook, come. I'll figure out something better." he says, helping his friend stand-

though he trips, falls right into you, who barely manages to keep him upright.

"Fuck- sorry, He's harmless." The man next to him apologises, and you wave him off.

"No problem." you say, keeping your hands close to the young man you now know is named Jungkook, who seems to almost lean into your touch, hazily turning his face towards you- eyes a deep cherry red.

"Vampirism?" you say, and the man next to him clicks his tongue.

"he's harmless." he repeats, as if you just insultet Jungkook- which you didn't actually intend to do.

"Oh, no no I didn't mean it badly!" you say, earning the gaze of the stranger on you. "just surprised, is all. Will he be okay?" You worry, and the man sighs.

"...yeah." he simply says. "I'll figure something-"

"Mister Min!" the nurse who just talked to you comes out the room, waving some papers. "We have a match!" She smiles, and mister Min next to you suddenly seemed to have turned 180 degrees- because now he looks almost cute, with wide open, round eyes and slightly parted lips. "miss, if you would follow me?" she says, and you nod, walking after her- mister Min and Jungkook right behind you.

"Oh, so he needed a donation?" you wonder, looking at a struggling Jungkook.

"Yes, his body has rejected all other blood options we've had." the nurse informs you, and you hum.

"Will she have enough?" Mister min from behind you mumbles, helping his friend walk. "Have you donated before?" he asks you almost as if to accuse you, and you shake your head, a bit nervous now.

"no- like, no I never donated, I don't know how much blood you give at these appointments." you say sheepishly, and the nurse opens a door down the hall before she steps aside to have you all walk in.

"for first-timers, we typically don't take too much blood." she explans, motioning her hand for you to sit down on a chair that looks awfully similar to the one's at the dentist. "So don't worry." she smiles.

"but-" you ask, watching Jungkook mostly fall into the chair next to you. "won't he need more than just a bit?" you worry, and the nurse sighs.

"anything will help." she tries to reassure, earning a glare from mister Min. "your donation is important either way."

"I'd like to give as much as I can." you say, determined- earning a surprised look from mister min- and even Jungkook seems to move his head to look at you with tired eyes. "I don't have anything else to do today, and the day off tomorrow. And I feel great!" you proudly exclaim. "I did all the stuff the clinic sent me- like, eat healthy, do regular sports, all that." you announce happily, and you could swear that Jungkook looks almost-

as if he wants to smile.

"we'll see how you do, okay?" the nurse says, a hand on your shoulder. "you can tell me to stop at any time, no shame in it." she makes sure to tell you, and you nod as you watch her leave for a moment.

"you don't have to do this." Mister Min says. "like she says, even the beginner amount is enough." he mumbles, but you shake your head.

"no, it's fine." you reassure them. "I wanna help. He looks like he really needs it." you joke a bit softly, watching Jungkook quietly bow a little. "are you guys close friends?" you wonder, and Mister Min scoffs.

"oh- Oh! I didn't know!" you laugh. "It must be hard to watch your partner suffer like that." you say, and he nods.

"somewhat." he says. "we've been together for.. two years now." he says, and watches how you seem to turn a bit red at that.

"I didn't know what to do." he confesses. "I'm.. thank you. For doing this." Mister min tells you. "he never chose this, so I'm glad you can help him for now until we can figure out something long term." he says.

"Oh I can keep donating!" you say. "I'm not scared of needles and stuff. See?" you point towards your ears, which are both heavily pierced with pink and silver jewelry. "I don't mind coming here regularly."

"you don't have to." Mister Min says again.

"I know." you say. "but I want to." you tell him almost teasingly, and he cant help but smile to himself a little.

reassured.

When the nurse comes back in, and sets everything up, you're still calm. "Blood pressure is nice." the nurse says to herself, writing something down. "we'll monitor how your body behaves during this donation, just to stay safe." she informs you, connecting some things. "and we'll monitor him, to make sure he doesn't fall into a blood-rush." she reassures you, and you nod, a bit unsure.

"what's a blood rush?" you wonder, and she nods.

"Sometimes, if people infected with the sleeping variant of vampirism, a blood donation can trigger the disease to 'wake', so to say. It could become active in that case, and would cause his body to go into shock." she explains, wiping a spot on Jungkook's arm with a disinfectant wipe before she places a needle there so he can receive the donation. "It's also why we won't let him.. reiceive the donation normally. We have to monitor and control how much exactly he receives." she explains. "because he might not be able to control his hunger."

"oh." you simply say, nodding.

"he won't go berserk and try to eat you." Mister min clarifies, glaring at the nurse. "but it's like refeeding syndrome in a human. You can't just give a starving person a buffet and expect them to only eat a bowl of soup." he tells you.

"yeah, that makes sense." you nod, cringing a bit when the needle is pinched into your arm as well.

For a good while, it's silent as you get comfortable, looking at the ceiling lights while you feel how your arm weakens a little. Meanwhile next to you, Jungkook seems to breathe deeper, stronger, color returning to his complexion.

"So.. what do you work as?" you wonder, a bit awkward as you look at Mister Min. "you don't have to answer.. just.. the silence is kind of weird." you giggle, and he nods.

"I guess." he agrees. "I'm a producer. I make music." he offers, and you nod, lips parted. He catches himself staring at them for just a second.

"Oh that's so cool." you smile brightly. "I always wanted to do somehing with art too, when I was younger. But my dad thought that was stupid, so he didn't allow me to go study it." you say, and Yoongi can spot the way you seem to grow a little more tired now.

"What did you do instead?" he wonders, speaks softly, gentle, as he watches you.

"hm, at first I studied finance and stuff. Because my dad wanted me to." you explain. "I always aimed for his praise, but I realized years into my studies that it wasn't worth the effort. So I dropped out." you shrug. "Now I'm an author, for like, fantasy novels. They're pretty embarrassing though, I won't lie." you giggle. "I work as a waitress on the side. To have enough to live comfortably, you know?" you mumble now, and the nurse chimes up.

"Can you sit up a bit for me?" she asks you, and you nod, doing as she says. "your blood pressure is dropping a little. How do you feel?" she checks in, and you look over at Jungkook, who takes in a deep breath as if for the first time.

"I'm fine." you smile with your gaze on him. "I think I just got a bit too comfortable in the chair." you giggle, and Yoongi watches.

You're odd.

"Hmhm-" she hums in approval. "we'll stop in a few minutes to not overwhelm him. You're doing great, miss." she praises, and you nod happily.

"Do you have someone to drive you home?" mister Min asks, and you shake your head.

"I'll take public transport." you inform him, but he shakes his head.

"I can drive you. That's safer." he offers, and you shrug, before nodding when the nurse gets up to clip up the narrow tube connected to Jungkook's arm, waking him up it seems like.

He blinks a couple of times, before he rubs his eyes, like things are too bright for a moment. His arm is free of the needle, as he looks around, at Yoongi- then at you. It's like he just woke up- his eyes finally open, his posture a lot straighter, and while he's still a bit pale, he doesn't look as bad as before.

"nice to meet you." you joke, slurring your words a little as you hiss when the nurse accidentally removes the needle too fast.

"Nice to meet you too." Jungkook answers for the first time-

voice gentle, and forever ingraved into your mind.

🩸.━━━━━━━━━━.🔴.━━━━━━━━━━━.🩸

You're yawning in the back of his car as Yoongi drives through the busy town, having received your adress earlier from you. "How do you feel?" he asks Jungkook next to him.

"hungry." he laughs. "honestly, I've not felt this good in a while. Like I can breathe again." he chuckles, before looking back, watching you in the mirror of the car- his eyes smiling at you when you smile back, sleepily leaning against the car door next to you. "You really didn't have to go all out for me." he says back at you, but you wave him off.

"nah, It's fine." you reassure. "I'm a big girl, I can handle it!" you joke, and Jungkook laughs in the front, shaking his head. You seem really bubbly and energetic- well when you're not all exhausted from donating blood, that is. And you also make him taste a bit of a bitter aftertaste- because you seem just like him, before he was so harshly kicked in the gut by his ex partner. So trusting, helpful, selfless. He hopes you won't have to make the same experiences that he's had to go through in the past.

You don't deserve that.

"Do you live alone?" Yoongi asks from the front- you've finally gotten his name a few minutes before. You nod, and he seems to think a little. "Will you be okay?" he asks, and you nod again- stubborn as ever, it seems like. "why did I even ask.." he sighs a little playfully, making Jungkook laugh from the passenger seat.

"Can I maybe have your number?" Jungkook asks. "Just to check in with you. If that's okay." he asks, and you nod, pulling out your phone to have him type in his number into your contacts.

Yoongi kind of wishes he was this bold too. But maybe that's where Jungkook fits him well- makes up for his own shortcomings.

"I'll probably leave you on read for the entire day today though" you laugh when you get your phone back. "I'm absolutely beat." you giggle, and Jungkook nods.

"I can only imagine." he watches you a bit, when Yoongi pulls into a parking lot in front of the tall apartment complex you live in.

"Home sweet home!" you exclaim, stretching your arms before you open the door. "thanks for bringing me home. I'll see you next month!" you joke, and both men say their goodbyes as you close the door behind you, walking towards the entrance of the apartment complex before you dissappear behind the door.

And in secret silence, as Jungkook and Yoongi drive home, both can't help but wonder.

Why does next month sound way too far away?

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

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Okay, I've not done this before but it's bugging me to death so, I need help finding a fic.

It was a vampire Yoongi au where he and the reader get matched together through some sort of blood doner service and they end up falling for each other(it almost seems like he owned like a nightclub/bar or smth, but I might be mixing up fics).There was only a couple parts, I think, and it was mainly fluff/smut.

I read ages ago and I’ve dug through the vampire yoongi tags and I can't find it. Idk if the blog's gone now or whatever, but I thought I'd ask just in case anyone else remembers what I'm talking about.💜

#yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #vampire!au #vampire yoongi #vampire!yoongi #vampire!bts #vampire bts #yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts scenarios #7ndipity speaks

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lo1k-diamonds · 6 months ago

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Don’t forget who you’re talking to with that smart fucking mouth, little monster.

I'm here to discredit this author - this is not just mostly porn - this is mostly awesome porn with a sprinkle of feelings - and our asshole vampire Yoongi doesn't do feelings 😏

This combination of tags is pristine and delicious. An automatic yes, please. So not only would I say yes to an annoying asshole vampire Yoongi, but one that puts his mouth where his money is? Yes³

I do enjoy how he shows his nature, and OC sees it and feels even hotter. Don't give me an all-powerful being, but then there are no stakes. Give me stakes; give me Yoongi licking my blood, telling me he wants to kill me, and the result is me gushing down my legs. I think that's where the story's magnetism comes from - she's not dazed by his money or power; she's dazed by his nature and is really the perfect match. Maybe something is wrong with her, or maybe that's just exactly her thing - we all have our kinks and tastes, and I like that they found theirs.

Also, Yoongi can be an asshole, but he took things slowly. Be it because he's afraid of feelings or making sure to give her time, it's really sweet regardless. Not sure I'd survive it, personally (months?! That's a lot of self-control on both parts), but kudos to them!

Wicked As They Come | myg

⟶ title: Wicked As They Come

⟶ pairing: vampire!yoongi x reporter! f reader

⟶ genres/aus: supernatural au, vampire au, fake dating au, ceo au, romance, smut

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ wc: 10.7k

⟶ warnings: Yoongi is a bit mean but 😏, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, threats, dirty talk, mentions of blood, biting, blood drinking, blood play, a cheesy staircase scene, a shower scene, smut in the forms of: oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⟶ summary: you’ve been undercover at one of Min Yoongi’s many hotels in the city for the past week. you’re there because of the rumors that have been spreading regarding his vampire employees feeding off of his human guests. what you don’t expect to happen is Min Yoongi discovering your true intentions in his hotel and offering you a very interesting ultimatum: pretend to date the vampire CEO to help appeal to his human guests, or quickly find out just what kind of monster he can really be.

⟶ authors note: I know you all must be so surprised to see me posting since it’s been literal months lol. This fic is part of the To Love A Monster collab that I’m hosting with a bunch of really amazing writers. Please check out their fics as well! I have to give some big shoutouts here: M @here2bbtstrash, thank you for betaing what was obviously a mess and assuring me that it wasn’t complete trash, I so appreciate your help. Also to sav @jeonjcngkook who read it before it was even done to also assure me I wasn’t writing junk. And then to jai @gimmethatagustd for making this amazing banner all those months ago when I thought I wouldn’t procrastinate and get this done sooner lol.

I hope you all enjoy this, it’s mostly porn lol.

You have been sneaking around his hotel for a week trying to put any weight behind the rumors that were circulating.

Min Yoongi was a vampire and a very powerful one. He owns almost every luxury hotel within 500 miles of the city. He employs vampires and humans in his hotels and none of the humans you had been talking to seemed afraid to be here. So why are there rumors the vamps are feeding off humans in his hotels?

You have been unable to find any evidence of the unapproved blood drinking. There is, of course, plenty of approved blood drinking. Humans are paid handsomely to volunteer their blood to the vamps and Min Yoongi almost made a show of how much he paid them.

Your last night in the hotel is supposed to be spent at a masquerade party being held downstairs in the grand room, but ever curious you decided to take a small detour past the kitchens.

The dress you are wearing was sent to your hotel room with a note that simply stated “can’t wait to finally meet you tonight when you're wearing this.”

At first, you thought it was possibly delivered to your room by mistake. But the dress was exactly your size and fit like it had been made for you. You didn’t have a no clue who would have sent it, but you weren’t the type to turn down expensive gifts.

While taking your last minute detour past the kitchens, you hear something around the corner that quickly catches your attention.

“I don’t want you to if it’s going to hurt, Jimin.” A female voice says in a hushed whisper.

“I would never hurt you, princess. It’s going to feel so good,” a man with silver hair and a ridiculously pretty smile says to the female as you slowly peek around the corner. One of his hands strokes her cheek while the other holds her body against his.

“Do you promise?” Her voice trembles slightly and you’re immediately afraid for her.

“Of course.” He leans down to kiss her and she seems to melt into him.

There are two things you are absolutely sure about at this moment.

This man named Jimin is a vampire.

This girl is human and being coerced into letting this vampire bite her even though she is obviously terrified.

You watch as the vampire hikes up the girl's skirt, hitching her leg over his hip. You hadn’t noticed that he had removed his cock from his pants until you saw him slip inside the girl in front of him.

You can’t look away, but an even bigger part of you wants to see more. She moans his name and Jimin praises her for taking him so well.

Was this really what they had been talking about? Were they talking about fucking and not him drinking her blood?

But while you were distracted by the scene in front of you, watching tears roll down the girl's face when Jimin slammed her back to the wall, you hadn’t realized that someone else was watching you. A hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your waist and lifts you off the ground.

“You aren’t supposed to be down here,” a deep voice says against the shell of your ear. You try to scream to no avail, flailing your head around trying to hit them in the face, but they’re too quick.

You keep fighting against them, even as you feel a needle pierce the skin of your neck and a scream leave the mouth of that poor girl around the corner.

“Time to wake up.” You feel someone grip your face in their hand to keep your head up. Your mind feels like a fog has settled inside.

“You probably gave her too much, Namjoon,�� a voice says.

“Impossible. I never miscalculate a dose.”

“Would you two please shut the fuck up,” a deep grumbly voice says from a little further away. “Open your eyes, little monster.”

You force them to flutter open, trying to focus on what’s in front of you through your blurry vision.

“Where…where am I?” You start to move your limbs; your legs move fine, but your arms are handcuffed behind the back of the chair you’re sitting in. “What the fuck?”

“We need to talk about why you’ve been snooping around my hotel for the past week. And I suggest you not lie to me or I’ll kill you now.” A man dressed in a very expensive suit comes around the front side of the desk he was sitting behind and leans against it.

“If you already know, what’s the point in me telling you anything?” Your vision clears more as you focus on his face: long black hair smoothed back off his forehead and eyes that could see through your soul.

“Humor me.” His voice is suddenly at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is this how you treat all of your guests? Cuffing them to chairs and letting your employees drink their blood even though they’re terrified?” You glare at him as you speak. It didn’t take you long to realize that this man is Min Yoongi.

He laughs before placing his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down until his face is level with yours.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, little monster.” His voice is low and his smirk is maddening.

“I’m calling the cops as soon as I get the fuck out of here. This is kidnapping.” You struggle against the cuffs to no avail. Yoongi leans down closer, his nose coming down to skim your throat and cause your body to freeze.

“I can smell it on you…the fear. Your heart is pumping too hard. It’s fucking divine.” His tongue ghosts along your skin and no matter how hard you try not to react, goosebumps appear after you shiver. “Does that turn you on, little monster? Knowing I could kill you…bleed you dry on my tongue?”

It does. God it fucking does. It’s so fucked up, but pain…pushing limits…a little bit of fear…you fucking love it.

“No.” You seethe through clenched teeth.

“Liar.” His words are hot against your ear before his inhuman speed takes him back to the other side of his desk in an instant.

“Bastard.” You cross your legs tightly and slump against the chair.

“You have a choice to make, Ms. ______.” Yoongi sits down in his oversized leather chair and leans back with his eyes on you. “I’m in need of a partner. A human one. Someone to make appearances with me and make it look convincing. I need the humans to book my hotels more often. You can either help me do that or I can kill you.”

“Gee, so glad you’ve given me so many options here,” you scoff.

“What will it be then?” His hand cards through his long hair but his attention stays on you.

You realize that this may give you an extra in for your article. You could have insider information about what’s going on in these hotels if you agree. Maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

“Fine. I agree.” You know the smile on your face probably isn’t as convincing as you want it to be.

“Meet me back here tomorrow night to sign the contract.” Yoongi nods towards the vampires who have been lingering near the door and one of them comes forward to undo your cuffs.

“Perfect.”

“What the hell? You’ve got an entire clause in this thing that says I can’t write any piece of journalism regarding what I see and hear at any time while or after the contract is up? That’s bullshit!” You toss the thick packet of paper back onto his desk.

“I’ll compensate you for any money your magazine would pay you for the article you were going to write about me.” Yoongi says, as if he’s bored to death as he scrolls his phone.

“How much compensation are we talking about here? Because the magazine I’m working for pays pretty decently for pieces like…” Your sentence is cut off by the sound of your phone dinging on the table. You pick it up to see Min Yoongi has deposited $20,000 into your bank account. You choke, almost throwing your phone when you see the number. “You can’t be serious.”

“Now that your compensation is dealt with, is there anything else in the terms you want to discuss?” Namjoon says, steam practically pouring out of his ears. He turns to his boss next. “Or is there any more money you would like to just throw around?”

You glare at Yoongi, his eyes never leaving you as you reach onto the table and pick the packet of papers back up. He smiles, poking the tip of his tongue against one of his fangs.

Flipping through the rest of the contract, it occurs to you that one thing was never mentioned throughout that ridiculously long document.

“There’s nothing about sex in here.” You skim through a few pages again and Namjoon nearly chokes.

“Should there be?” Yoongi says with amusement in his voice.

“I just assumed…”

“If you want me to fuck you, little monster, we don’t need a contract for it. Just say that’s what you want.” He leans over the desk, his elbows resting on it.

“Obviously I don’t.” You cross your legs and pretend to look through the contract more.

“Get out,” Yoongi says, black eyes still staring at you.

“Excuse me?” You’re about to go off before he cuts you off.

“Not you.” He turns his eyes to Namjoon who was apparently pretending there was something more interesting on his phone. “You. Get out of my office.”

“Asshole,” Namjoon mumbles as he shoves his chair back and, quicker than any human ever could, rushes out of the door and leaves it slamming behind him.

“What is your problem? Why did you tell him to leave?”

“My problem is that you’re lying to me. So I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth. Do you want to be fucked?” He starts to loosen the tie around his neck while standing up slowly from his desk.

“Why do you assume that I want you to fuck me?” Your mouth feels dry as you grip the arms of your chair.

“Does your cunt usually get ridiculously wet when you don’t want to be fucked?” He stops in front of you, the silky black neck tie sliding between his long fingers.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? So if I got my fingers between your legs I wouldn’t find you dripping?”

“It wouldn’t be because of you.” You tighten your jaw and lift your nose slightly into the air in defiance. “Maybe I thought your lawyer was hot.”

Yoongi has never looked more wicked than he does at this moment. It’s like any kind of mask he was wearing to hide the monster has slipped away, his eyes suddenly the color of blood and fangs elongated while he grips the arms of the chair you’re sitting in, crushing them in his hands. The suddenness of it all makes you yelp in surprise.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to with that smart fucking mouth, little monster.” One of Yoongi’s hands lifts from the rubble of the chair arms so he can drag a finger up your chest. Even without his inhuman abilities, you know he can hear your heart.

You should be terrified. You are terrified. But you should be trying to get away. Fight him off of you. But you just want more. Want him to bend you over his desk and show you the monster he can truly be.

His wandering finger makes its way over your pulse thrumming in your neck, making him groan low and deep in his chest. But he doesn’t stop there; he keeps his torturously slow pace until the finger is resting on your chin just beneath your lips.

“Open,” he demands, the red of his eyes slowly retreating back to their normal dark color.

You decide not to argue this time, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his finger into the hot cavern of your mouth.

“Suck, little monster, like it’s my cock I know you’re dying to choke on.” He presses the long digit against your tongue, tilting his head to the side as he watches your lips wrap around his finger.

You suck gently at first, running your tongue along its length until you can taste the metal of the very expensive ring on his finger. You lift your eyes to meet his, desperate to see how it’s affecting him.

“You can do better, can’t you, beautiful?” His other hand cups your chin and tilts it up more before he pulls his finger from your mouth. “Well?”

You watch as he leans against his desk, spreading his legs slightly as he presses his palms to the top of the dark wood.

It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s suggesting, and then you’re sliding from the leather chair you’re sitting in down to your knees on the floor in front of him. You can tell he’s half hard already when you come face to face with his crotch.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds strained and unfamiliar. Yoongi smirks, a small laugh slipping out.

“Don’t worry, little monster. Out there you can be my well put together princess. But here, you’re my whore.” He growls the last part, one of his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he watches you undo his belt and zipper.

You hate how hard your pussy clenches at his words. How much you’re craving exactly what you’re getting. It’s stupid. So, so stupid.

Running your hands up his thighs, you slip your fingers into the band of his underwear and pants, sliding them down to free his waiting cock. And of course it’s perfect. His cocky demeanor is well backed up by the size of the dick in your face alone. Your mouth waters.

“There will be plenty of time for you to gawk, but right now you should really start sucking.” His fingers lace into your hair and lightly grip at the back of your head. You roll your eyes at him, but take his cock into your hand anyways.

His skin is cool to the touch but still flushed as you stroke him. A hum of approval comes from above you. You look up again, taking him into your mouth and making sure to hold eye contact as you do.

Your tongue swirls around him while your head bobs slowly up and down his long shaft. His grip in your hair tightens each time you take him a little deeper into your throat.

“Good girl, fuck,” Yoongi groans, grabbing the bottom of his button up shirt and pulling it up to his chest so that he can see everything that you’re doing.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you let your throat relax and take him all the way down until your nose presses against his lower stomach. The groan you receive in return is nothing short of delicious.

“I could tell from the moment I saw you watching Jimin fuck that girl downstairs that you were going to be the sweetest little slut.” He grips your hair hard, making you yelp around his cock. “And I was so fucking right.” Yoongi uses your hair as leverage to start rocking his hips and fucking into your mouth.

This is exactly what you want. You want him to use you and say dirty things. Your pussy has been clenching around nothing and dripping all over your thighs the entire time. You open your mouth as wide as you can and let him corrupt your throat, holding on to the backs of his thighs for dear life.

“How badly do you want my cum, little monster?” His voice is breathy and full of lust.

Unable to answer him with your mouth occupied, you slide your hands up to his ass cheeks and dig your nails in, making him jolt further down your throat. God you want it so badly.

“Fuck, that’s so good. So fucking good.” Yoongi releases his grip on your hair and lets you bob your head up and down him again to finish him off.

You bring a hand around to stroke him in tandem with your mouth, squeezing at the head on each upstroke. You watch above you as his head finally falls back with a loud moan, his hand on the back of your head to hold you down as he cums down your throat.

He didn’t have to hold you there, you were gladly going to take it all, but it’s obvious this vampire loves control. So you continue to suck softly until he’s finished and pulls his cock from your lips.

You take in a deep breath when he releases you, falling forward slightly but catching yourself on your hands.

“Let me see,” Yoongi grumbles.

“See what?” you say, out of breath. He doesn’t answer, simply grabs your chin and yanks you back up to look at him.

“Open your mouth,” he demands and you obey. “Good girl. I like to see that it’s all been swallowed down your perfect throat.” He releases your chin, extending his hand for you to take to help you up.

As you stand on wobbly legs, you’re surprised by the sudden gentleness from the man who was fucking your throat raw just moments ago. Yoongi helps you straighten your clothes and then moves on to his own, fixing his pants back into place as if the whole thing hadn’t just happened.

“Are you going to put sex in the contract now?” you ask, genuinely curious. Yoongi laughs quietly as he rounds the other side of his desk.

“If you’d prefer it be in writing I can have Namjoon add it in.”

“That…might be best.” You don’t know why. Maybe to give yourself the illusion that this isn’t something you’re more than willing to do.

“As you wish.” He sits back in his chair and watches as you head for his door. “And little monster?”

“Yes?” You almost jump at the sound of his voice again.

“A member of my staff will be taking you shopping and helping you get settled into my penthouse in the next few days.”

“Your penthouse? I don’t remember living together being in the contract.”

“We have to make this as believable as possible. And I want to keep you close.” He opens his laptop, ignoring the surprised look on your face.

“Possessive much?” You glare at him, arms crossing over your chest. He hums with a smirk.

“Only when it comes to things that are mine.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and in that moment you aren’t sure if it’s out of lust or fear.

You don’t respond further, slipping out of his office so that you can breathe again.

“Was all of this truly necessary?” you ask.

“Yoongi said you were to get everything you wanted.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders as he types into his phone.

Jungkook had come to your hotel room three days after you’d left Yoongi’s office. He’s apparently Yoongi’s assistant, and lucky for you, is much friendlier than his boss. He had other staff collect your things from your room and take them to Yoongi’s penthouse before rushing you out the door to shop.

“Yes, but you literally bought everything I even glanced at twice.” There are bags covering the entire floor of the elevator you’re riding up in, and the hotel attendants will be bringing tons more up from the car.

“Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy being the spoiled brat that you are for a few months,” Jungkook teases, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the very top floor of the hotel. Your stomach twists as the thought of living here with Yoongi finally dawns on you. This is a ridiculous idea.

“Welcome home!” Jungkook shouts, scaring you for a moment.

You step out into the entryway of the penthouse, immediately overwhelmed by the beautiful set up. The entire far wall is windows, of course: it wouldn’t be a penthouse without ceiling to floor windows. But the way the sun is setting outside is breathtaking to see from this high up.

You move a little further inside, taking in the black leather couches and oversized fireplace in the living room area. Fur carpets cover the dark wood floors and abstract pieces of art sit on almost every table.

It’s an open concept, the kitchen taking up the other half of the first floor. Though you aren’t sure why a vampire would need a kitchen with their…special diet. It has lights that drop down low from the ceiling and a huge island with tons of seating. Does Min Yoongi enjoy entertaining guests? You can barely imagine it.

“Boss should be back soon. Want me to wait with you?” Jungkook says, still typing away into his phone. He’s rather sweet for a vampire.

“I’ll be fine, Jungkook.” You give him a small smile as you wrap your arms around yourself. “And thank you for today.”

“My pleasure. You’ve got my number, anything you need just give me a call.” He looks up at you, then inhumanly fast is out the door. How will you ever get used to that?

You decide to look a little closer at the kitchen, letting your fingertips ghost over the black marble countertops. Making your way to the fridge, you open its huge doors to find it fully stocked with food.

“What the fuck?” you mumble to yourself. Why did he need all of this food?

Before you close the doors, a bottle of wine on the top shelf catches your eye and you grab it before spinning around to face the kitchen island and search for a corkscrew.

What you don’t expect to see is Min Yoongi standing on the other side of the island, watching you carefully.

“Holy shit!” you screech, your heart lurching in your chest. “Can you please make some noise when you enter a room? Jesus.”

“Making yourself at home, little monster?” He smirks, likely loving the fact that you almost had a heart attack.

“I was just looking around.” You sit the bottle of wine down and lean over the counter, resting your elbows on the marble. “Is that okay?” You know that your cleavage is pushed up by the way you're bent over and you definitely did it on purpose.

“You’re welcome to look around.” He drums his long fingers against the countertop. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you.” You scoff.

“No bodies hidden in the closets? A coffin in your bedroom perhaps?” You reach up and carefully take a wine glass down from the rack hanging above the kitchen island.

“This isn’t the dark ages, little monster. The sun being a problem for vampires is something of the past.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the chair next to him.

“It seems vampires evolve very quickly.” You say it casually, hoping he will spill information that most humans don’t know; information that you can use when you write an article exposing everything about them.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He loosens his tie while slowly stalking towards you around the counter.

“It’s my job to be curious.” You try to pretend that him coming closer doesn’t affect you by pouring the wine into the glass you retrieved.

“Do you think you’re going to find a loophole in my contract? Something that would allow you to write your article? Foolish…” Yoongi wraps his tie around his palm and continues his slow movements towards you. Your stomach tightens, wondering when he’s going to get sick of you and kill you where you stand.

“We don’t need to talk about the article. It’s obviously not happening.” You take a drink, the sweet white liquid enticing your taste buds.

“Your heart gives you away.”

“What?” You’re taken aback by his words, taking them in a way he didn’t mean.

“It’s picked up speed. Almost a thrum. You’re lying…but that’s okay. You want to be brave, then go ahead. But I’m not your enemy, little monster.” He moves too quickly for a moment, coming too close all at once, causing you to drop your wine glass on the floor.

The glass shatters against the tile floor, the wine spreading out and filling into the space between the tiles. You don’t even think about your next move, bending down and immediately starting to pick up the shards of glass.

“Sorry…” you start to say, nicking your palm on a piece of glass in your rush to scoop them up. “Fuck, that hurts. Could you hand me a rag?” You don’t look up at first, but when Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you get impatient.

What you see is the monster you know you shouldn’t want so desperately.

His eyes are red and raging as he grips the counter top with one of his hands, the marble starting to crumble between his fingers.

“Get the fuck up.” Yoongi struggles but manages to get the words out between gritted teeth.

“What?” You scoot back across the floor, trying to put space between you. You watch as his hands shove into his hair, pulling at the long black strands as he makes pained groaning noises at the floor.

With that inhuman speed, Yoongi leans down and grabs your wrist, blood still leaking from the cut on your palm. The grip on your wrist is so hard you’re afraid he might break your bones.

“Yoongi, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you practically whimper as he drags you up from the floor and shoves you against the side of the island. “Stop. Please don’t…”

You know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He could have drained you dry and no one would ever know to even look for you here. But the fear makes you feel alive. It makes your heart hammer and your pussy clench. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Yoongi grabs your wrist again, making you yelp in surprise. He stares at it for a moment, intently watching your blood slide down your skin. He closes his eyes before making his final decision.

You decide to close your eyes too, not sure if you want to see what could happen next.

To your surprise, what you feel is the warm, wet muscle of his tongue licking along the inside of your wrist up to your palm. Your eyes shoot open immediately, meeting his ruby colored orbs.

“I want to kill you,” he whispers against the skin of your wrist, lapping at the blood once more.

“I know,” you whisper back.

“Why does that make your pussy wet, little monster?” He smiles wickedly before his lips attach to the cut on your palm, sucking gently. You can’t help the moan that slips past your lips as you watch your blood coat his mouth and run down his chin.

“I…I don’t know.” You reach out with your other hand to grab onto his shirt and anchor yourself to something.

“All of that insolence seems to disappear when your pussy is getting what it wants.” He licks one more long stripe up your wrist before he pulls away, his eyes in the beginning stages of returning to their normal dark.

“You haven’t given me anything that I want.” You yank your wrist out of his hold, rubbing at the bruise marks already appearing. Yoongi rolls his eyes, grasping your shoulders and turning you around to walk you towards the sink. He turns on the water and motions for you to put your hand underneath it.

You turn your back to him, washing your hand under the warm water until it seems to stop bleeding heavily. You start to reach for a towel before you feel his chest against your back, his arms suddenly caging you against the counter in front of the sink.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is you want then, hm?” His breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “I can smell every bit of desire between your legs.” His knee comes up between your legs, making you brace yourself on the counter at the sudden pressure he’s putting against your pussy.

“Touch me…and don’t stop.” Your body shakes in anticipation. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, his tongue finding the lobe.

“You’ll take what I give you…and you’ll be fucking grateful.” His sharp fangs nip at your ear and cause your ass to press harder into his crotch. You don’t care what he wants to give you at this point, you’re too desperate.

“Please,” you whine.

“I’m feeling benevolent this evening…you sucked my cock so well the other day that I may even let you cum.” He presses his cock against your ass before pulling away from you all together.

“Asshole.” You scowl as you turn around to face him. Yoongi merely looks amused.

“I’m still hungry, little monster. Get on the counter.” He pats the marble top with his hand while he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt with the other.

“Why?”

“Are you always going to ask so many questions or are you just going to fucking listen?” He cards a hand through his long raven colored hair and sighs, drenched in annoyance.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, walking towards him where he stands by the kitchen island. Before you even have a chance to call him more names, he’s grabbing you by the hips and practically tossing you onto the counter. “Fuck, Yoongi, can you try not to break me?”

“Where's the fun in that?” He smirks, coming to stand between your thighs, your face just above his from this height. “I think you may even beg me for it.” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as he watches your face.

You want to reach up and push some of the stray hairs away from his face. But that would mean you have some kind of affection towards this vampire and you can’t let that happen. It’s almost painful to keep your hands at your sides.

“Get on with it then.” Your lips just barely ghost his when you speak, yet another thing you have to keep yourself from wanting.

Too quickly, your back is suddenly pressed against the cold marble countertop when Yoongi grabs your thighs and pulls your ass to the edge. You yelp when his lips press to the inside of your thigh.

“Maybe the human men you’ve slept with like that smart mouth of yours, little monster.” He shoves your skirt up over your hips, long fingers immediately finding your slit over your panties. “But me? It makes me want to devour you.”

You moan and don’t hold back the sound, shivering when you feel his fangs pressing against your skin. He sucks a trail up your thigh, leaving small blossoms in his wake. When you feel his tongue languidly slide over the outside of your panties, you almost come undone right there.

“Please don’t tease me anymore. I’m so wet already.” He licks at you again before raising his head to look at you.

“Be a good girl and take what I give you.” His hand reaches between your thighs and, with no effort at all, rips your underwear from your body in a single motion.

You don’t have time to be snarky again before his face is buried in your pussy. Your back arches off the counter, fingers gripping at the marble to no avail.

The long muscle of his tongue swirls around your clit before expertly diving back down inside you, licking up every bit of wetness that leaks from you. The world feels as if it’s tilting on its axis, that feeling of falling clouding your mind when you start to feel the urge to cum after such a short period of time.

“You’re going to give me at least three, so stop holding back and let me have what’s mine.” The rough grumble of his voice vibrates straight to your core as the pad of his thumb strokes your clit and his tongue disappears back inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, chest heaving as your first orgasm wracks through you like a hurricane on a path of destruction with no end in sight.

“Your cum tastes almost as good as your blood, little monster. Again.” His long fingers slide inside you easily as your body shakes from being over-sensitive.

“Feels so good.” Your hands take on a mind of their own and make their way into the long, messy strands of his hair, gripping at the roots and pulling him closer.

“Greedy.” Yoongi sucks harshly on your clit, letting it pop from between his lips before he soothes it with his tongue.

“Asshole,” you moan, feeling your second orgasm hurtling towards you. Yoongi laughs quietly against the inside of your thigh.

“You like the pain. Stop pretending that you don’t.” He nips at your skin with his fangs, making you flinch. “You just gushed on my tongue.”

“I can’t go again, Yoongi. I need to stop.” You can feel sweat dripping from your forehead, your skin hot to the touch.

“You can and you will.” His arms wrap tightly around your thighs and yank you back to the edge of the counter, your sweaty skin squeaking across the surface.

Your body is telling you to scream. The pleasure and the discomfort are dancing a fine line and your head is absolutely swimming. You begin to think that you may not live through this when his mouth is back on your abused pussy.

Yoongi throws your legs over his shoulders and licks deeper than he had been before, the bottom half of his face drenched in everything leaking from you through the past two orgasms.

“Bite me,” you beg. You know if he bites you that it will intensify everything you feel, but also bring the possibility that the monster consuming your pussy kills you.

Yoongi practically rips himself from you, his breathing ragged and rushed.

“Don’t ask for things that you don’t understand.” His long fingers find your swollen clit while the other hand swipes across his mouth.

“Please…please I can’t cum again without it.” Tears start to slip down your face.

“I could kill you. It would be so fucking easy.” His eyes start to turn red, the crimson bleeding into his dark irises.

“It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? Please…” You’re so desperate you have no idea what you’re saying. Yoongi scoffs.

“You really are a little monster, aren’t you?” Yoongi smiles, his fangs elongating. Your heart beats so fast, somewhat with fear but mostly with the anticipation of what you’ll feel when he bites you.

In a flash, the vampire between legs is sinking his teeth into the inside of your thigh. You gasp, all the air leaving your lungs as your eyes fly open, the light fixtures on the ceiling blurring. You grab at your breasts when a sudden flood of heat starts to spread through your entire body.

Your body jolts when Yoongi takes the first long drag of your blood into his mouth. He moans at the taste, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising hold.

Another long pull of blood floods into his mouth and you start to see stars. Yoongi moves one hand back to your pussy, his fingers gathering wetness and spreading it up to your swollen clit.

“Yoongi…” You’re so light headed you aren’t sure if you can keep your eyes open much longer. Yoongi rips his mouth from your thigh, his chest heaving, blood dripping off his chin and down his neck where it stains the white collar of his shirt.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well, baby.” He pushes you back further onto the counter before climbing onto it himself.

You can feel the warmth of your blood coating your skin on your thigh, but the only other thing you’re desperately aware of is him. Him and the way he rips your dress off your body as if it wasn’t extremely expensive and brand new.

“I’m so close.” Everything between your legs aches but your greedy body still wants more.

“I’m going to keep you, little monster. You’re mine now.” He licks the inside of your thigh, dragging his tongue through the blood. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you sigh, his fingers gathering up the blood on your skin and spreading over one of your breasts.

“I’ll make you cum now, little monster. Good girls get what they need.” His sinful mouth attaches to your breast, licking and sucking the blood.

You arch up from the counter top, pushing your breast further into his mouth and spreading your legs wider when his fingers make their way back inside you, petting your walls and stroking your g-spot until he’s making you cum again.

Your cheeks are wet from tears and your body is weak from losing blood and orgasming a ridiculous amount of times. But somehow you manage to sit up on your elbows when Yoongi slides back off of the counter, wiping his mouth and licking his fingers clean of your juices and blood.

“You’re quite divine, even if you constantly test my patience.” He puts a hand out for you to take. When you do, he helps you down from the counter. “Let’s shower.”

“You want to shower with me?” Your legs wobble as you stand and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“I need to make sure you don’t collapse while you’re in there. Don’t overthink it.” He looks around at the floor still covered in glass and the countertop covered in your blood. “I’ll have someone clean this up while we get you cleaned up.”

“Is it a normal occurrence for the cleaning staff to casually clean up blood?” You stumble a bit when you try to take a step. Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“So many questions.”

“You could’ve picked any human to be your fake girlfriend, I’m sure there are plenty of them that wouldn’t ask questions.” You take another wobbly step. Yoongi sighs behind you, moving too fast for your eyes as he scoops you up into his arms. Your eyes have no time to adjust before you’re in the bathroom.

“Don’t make me regret that decision, little monster,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, carefully sitting you down onto a chaise lounge chair.

“Why is this here?” you ask, hands sliding over the soft material.

“Perhaps I’ll show you some time.” He smiles wickedly, turning away from you to turn on the water inside the giant shower. Water pours down like a waterfall from the ceiling.

You take a moment to appreciate the incredible shower before your eyes find Yoongi again, his fingers still stained with your blood nimbly beginning to unbutton his shirt and revealing the smooth planes of his chest and stomach. It’s the first time you’ve really had a moment to appreciate the details of his body.

Your eyes fall on the crotch of his pants, still tented and tight.

“Do you want me to…” you motion towards his obvious hard on.

“No. Not tonight.” He holds out his hand for yours again. “Come here.” You let him wrap his fingers around yours, helping you to your feet. He makes sure that you’re steady before walking you into the shower.

Yoongi stands back, watching you walk under the steaming waterfall and removing his pants as he does. He commits the shape of your body to memory, eager to continue defiling it every chance that he gets.

You don’t hear him approach, your skin merely explodes in goosebumps when the cool skin of his hands and arms wraps around your torso from behind you. His face finds the crook of your neck, lips seeking out your throat and up to your jaw. It’s surprisingly…soft.

“Does it hurt?” he murmurs against your ear, fingers ghosting at your lower stomach. Cool lips kiss your shoulder.

“Just sore.” You turn your head and meet his eyes when he lifts his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Looking at him in that moment makes you suddenly realize that you’ve never kissed Yoongi. Maybe he wants it that way. Kissing is intimate and this is supposed to be an arrangement with no feelings involved.

He looks at you a moment longer before he clears his throat, his arms leaving your body as he kneels down in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes widen.

“Relax, little monster. I’m going to make it better. Hold onto my shoulders.” He waits until you do as he asks before he carefully lifts your legs, turning your inner thigh towards his face.

Blood still slowly seeps from the puncture wounds he left behind, bruises forming around them. Yoongi looks up to meet your eyes once more, holding them as he sticks out his tongue and presses it to your thigh, swiping up the blood before he drags it over the punctures.

Shivering at the feeling, you watch as the bite marks seal themselves closed and the bruising quickly fades from your skin. It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

“That trick must get a lot of attention at parties.” You try to laugh at your own joke, but you’re honestly so taken aback by what just happened in front of you. Yoongi smiles, a real one that you aren’t sure you’ve seen until now.

“Vampire venom has healing properties. I’m not a fan of the idea of you being uncomfortable in any way.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, then stands from the shower floor.

He helps you wash your body and hair, rubbing your scalp and shoulders until you almost fall asleep standing up.

“Come to bed.” You suddenly realize that you’re no longer in the shower, but in Yoongi’s bedroom, a fluffy black towel wrapped around your body.

“Why am I in your room?” you ask, confused.

“Because you’re sleeping in my bed. With me.” He throws back the comforter and pats the mattress. “In the bed, little monster.”

“Why am I sleeping in here? Surely you have spare rooms in this ridiculously big penthouse.” The idea of Yoongi wanting you to sleep in bed with him feels strange.

“Of course there are, but you’re staying in my room. Stop asking questions for the night, I beg you.” He rubs his temple as he walks towards his closet, reappearing a literal second later with sleep pants on. “Sleep in this if you want.” He tosses a tshirt towards you and you barely manage to catch it.

“But I don’t…” you start to protest again and Yoongi is suddenly in front of you, his hand covering your mouth.

“I want you to sleep in here. You’re mine and that’s all the explanation I’ll be giving you. No. More. Questions.” When you nod in understanding, he slowly moves his hand down and holds your jaw. “Get into bed.”

You nod again and he releases you, walking around to the other side of the bed. Yoongi settles with his back against the headboard, watching as you drop your towel and slip on the T-shirt he had given you.

“Are all vampires as possessive as you?” You glare at him playfully as you climb into the bed.

“What did I just say about questions, _____?” He throws his hands up in the air.

“Fine. Goodnight.” You dramatically grab the comforter and pull it over you, turning to face away from him. You hear him laugh quietly before the bed shifts once more and sleep grabs hold of you faster than it ever has.

Weeks go by.

The arrangement becomes easier and easier to do.

Yoongi brings you to parties and meetings and formal dances, dressing you up in the most gorgeous and expensive outfits. He gets you anything that you want and all you have to do is talk about how amazing he is to all of his human investors and guests.

He keeps you close, doesn’t let you wander too far. His cool hand is always at the small of your back.

The possessiveness is something you thought you would find annoying. He explained it’s just in a vampire's nature to be that way. But it’s easy to just let it happen when deep down, you love it.

God there really is something wrong with you.

Yoongi being possessive, however, is not the biggest problem you’ve had over the last few weeks. The problem is that he refuses to fuck you.

There’s plenty of other things to keep the edge off. Using his mouth to possess you in an entirely different way. He buries his face between your legs every chance that he gets. In his office…on top of his desk…in every dark corner he can find. You repay the favor when he lets you, letting him use your throat as his own personal fuck toy. But it isn’t enough, and he brushes you off every time you try to bring it up.

Tonight is an extremely important night. Yoongi is throwing a party to celebrate the grand opening of his newest hotel. There will be hundreds of people in attendance that need to be impressed.

“Are you almost ready?” Yoongi’s deep voice startles you as you stand in front of the vanity mirror in his bathroom.

“Just finishing up.” You pop in your second very large emerald earring before picking up the matching necklace. It’s the heaviest piece of jewelry you’ve ever felt.

“Can I help with that?” He comes to stand behind you, holding out his hand for the necklace.

“Thanks.” You carefully place it in his palm and turn back to the mirror, watching his face intently.

“You understand how important this night is, don’t you?” His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. “How badly I need it to go well?”

“I know.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror as he carefully brings the chain around your throat.

“Good girl.” His lips meet your shoulder, pressing a too-soft kiss to your already heated skin.

“You’re going to have to talk eventually.” Your eyes fall shut when his hands come around and cup your breasts from behind.

“I find it amusing that you think I owe you any kind of explanation for what I do or don’t do to you, little monster.” He pinches your nipples through the thin material of your dress, making you hiss through your teeth and lean further into him.

“Just tell me why you won’t fuck me, Yoongi. It’s been weeks.” You grind your ass against his growing erection.

“We’ll discuss this later. The car is waiting downstairs.” A scrape of his fangs across your shoulder before the feeling of his body against your back is gone.

“Asshole,” you grumble, straightening your dress and smoothing any hair that may have moved out of place.

He waits for you at the top of the stairs, offering his hand to help you walk down them in your heels. You brush past him, taking on the challenge unassisted and making Yoongi scoff.

The universe has other plans for you though, not allowing you even a single moment of holding your head up high before you trip on the edge of one of the stairs. It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to make a sound.

There are arms abruptly wrapped around you, too quick for your human eyes to make sense of. The next thing you know, your back is being shoved against the railing, bent, with a vampire looming over you, his nose pressing to yours while his lips ghost just above you.

“Do you have a death wish, little monster?” Yoongi whispers, his hold on you tightening.

“I’m sorry…that was so…” You can’t think straight, let alone comprehend what just happened.

“Stupid? Yes, so very stupid.” One of his hands leaves your back and makes its way into your hair, pulling the strands to make you look up at him. “Do not ever endanger yourself that way again. I can’t be around all the time to keep you alive.”

“Okay.” You nod, lips brushing his in the motion. You shudder at their cool sensation. But when you move to try and kiss him, he immediately pulls back.

“Come on. We’re late.” When he offers his hand this time, you take it, letting him usher you into the penthouse elevator and down to the lobby. His bodyguards get the two of you into the car in a blur.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word in the car. He doesn’t even look at you the entire way to the new hotel. It’s fucking infuriating.

Once inside the hotel, you immediately grab a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, downing it quickly before you feel the familiar pressure of Yoongi’s hand on your lower back.

“Easy, little monster,” he says lowly. You roll your eyes, plastering on a fake smile and joining him to talk to some very rich humans.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” A tall man in a pristine suit and glasses says when you join them. He is incredibly handsome.

“Taehyung, this is my girlfriend, Y\N. Y/N, Kim Taehyung. He’s giving me a hard time about investing in my hotels.” Yoongi’s fingers gently stroke your bare back exposed from your dress.

“Girlfriend? A human?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“100% human,” you laugh, nervously gesturing towards yourself.

“Wouldn’t have imagined such a pairing. Especially for you, Yoongi.” Taehyung sips his whiskey, his eyes staying on you even as he speaks to Yoongi. You’re too busy trying to laugh at everything he says to notice the way Yoongi’s jaw tightens.

“Yes, well, sometimes humans can be rather surprising. Tolerable even.” Yoongi looks at Taehyung like he wants to drain him, while everyone else standing there laughs at what Yoongi has said.

“Indeed.” Taehyung sips his whiskey again.

“We should make our rounds, baby.” Yoongi runs his finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Come,” he whispers, only loud enough for you to hear. You bite your bottom lip, nodding as you thread your fingers through his.

“I hope to see you again soon, _____,” Taehyung calls from behind the two of you. Yoongi starts to turn around but you pull him back.

“Don’t. He’s trying to get under your skin.”

“I could snap his neck…sever his throat…” Yoongi loosens his tie a little, pulling your hand to continue walking towards the outdoor balcony.

“You need him, don’t you? Just think about that.”

“He makes the best gambling games in the damn country, of course I need him.” He runs a hand through his long hair, the strands of it even longer now than they were when you had first met him all those weeks ago.

“So let it go,” you sigh, releasing his hand when the two of you are alone outside. “I don’t know why you care anyways.”

“I didn’t say I cared.”

“You were acting like a jealous prick back there. Seems like you might care a little.” You fold your arms over your chest, cool night air chilling your skin.

“I don’t, you ridiculously infuriating woman,” he half-laughs, pressing his palms to the stone wall that overlooks the hotel courtyard.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care about you either.” You’re practically pouting but you don’t care.

He groans, his fingers cracking the stone beneath them. You want to close the distance between the two of you, touch his chin and make him look at you.

“Why is it so hard for you to say?” you ask quietly.

“We’re talking about feelings here, little monster. I don’t do feelings,” he lies. You roll your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go see if Taehyung wants to spin me around the dance floor a few…” you start to say, heading towards the door. You’re cut off by Yoongi grabbing the back of your neck and spinning you back around to face him. Your body presses to his, molding to the shape.

“You. Are. Mine,” he practically growls, a deep snarl on his face as he tries to keep the monster at bay.

But you aren’t afraid.

“Then act like it. Show me that you want me or let me walk away.” Your breaths come out rushed and uneven as the two of you stand there, nose to nose.

He thinks for a moment. Almost too long. But then he smirks, his grip on the back of your neck softening slightly.

“You’re not getting away that easily, little monster.” And then his mouth is crashing against yours, consuming, devouring.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to kiss Yoongi for weeks. You knew that you shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what he tasted like or how his lips felt.

The way he kisses you now is so incredibly unexpected, you have to remind yourself what planet you’re on.

It only takes a moment for you to respond, pulling him closer and molding your mouth to his, filling in the spaces with your tongues. It’s when your fingers find their way into his hair that you really begin to grasp that there’s no coming back from this. There’s no more pretending.

Your thoughts are shaken when his hands travel to the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the stone wall of the balcony. You grip him tighter, afraid to look behind you and see the ground looming below.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t afraid of heights are you, little monster?” he teases, shoving himself between your legs and scooting you even closer to the edge of the wall.

“Anyone would be afraid of a two story drop.” You try to capture his lips again, anything to stop thinking about the possibility of falling, but he pulls back just enough to keep you wanting.

“As if I’d let you fall.” Yoongi whispers the words so quietly you barely hear them, his eyes staying on your lips.

“Maybe I already am.” You feel him stiffen, his body going rigid at your words.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he sighs. “There’s too much good in you…too much humanity for you to be talking that way.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

He stares at you for what seems like hours, gauging what could really be going through that head of yours. Then he gently kisses you again, melting away any facade either of you were trying to keep playing.

“We’re leaving,” he says after a moment of soft kisses.

“But we just got here. What about all the schmoozing we need to be doing?”

“Screw the schmoozing. I want to fuck you.” He takes one of your hands and brings it between your bodies, helping you to cup his hardening dick through his pants. “This is what you want, isn’t it, little monster? So desperate to be filled with cock.”

You whimper, licking the seam of his lips with your tongue as you palm his cock, thoughts of literally anyone who looks out the window seeing the two of you out here turning you on even more.

“Take me home, please.” You’re no longer above begging.

“I’m going to leave you in ruins.” Yoongi means for it to be a threat, something to deter you from wanting this, but it only makes you wetter. The thrill and the danger and the possibility of devastation that making this choice could cause only make you want it more.

Yoongi grabs your wrist, walking with determination until you’re back inside the party where Namjoon immediately sees the two of you making your way through the crowd.

“Yoongi, what the fuck? There’s people looking for you.” Namjoon steps in front of Yoongi but it doesn’t stop him from his mission to get to the front door.

“Tell them I’m sick.” Yoongi opens the door, presses a kiss to the top of your hand and guides you outside. You can’t help the ridiculous smile that finds its way onto your face.

“Vampires don’t get sick.” Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you really going to do this to me?”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Yoongi guides you down the front steps of the hotel, your eyes landing on Jungkook at the bottom, leaning against the car and playing a game on his phone.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks, panic crossing his usually soft features.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. We just need the car.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly while Yoongi opens the door for you to settle into the passenger seat. You’re about to grab your seatbelt when he leans down into the car and kisses you. “What was that for?”

“It may be the last bit of sweetness you get from me tonight. Enjoy it while you can.” His teeth nip at your bottom lip.

“Who said I enjoy sweetness?” You make sure he sees the way you make your dress ride up your thighs. Yoongi groans.

“Perfect little monster,” he coos, taking one last look at your exposed thighs before he shuts the car door. You watch as Yoongi brushes off Jungkook and Namjoon’s protests of him leaving this important party and gets into the driver's seat.

His long fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as he immediately punches the gas. And while you’re not afraid of the vampire sitting next to you, his driving is an entirely different story.

Luckily the drive back to the main hotel is short and you find yourself pressed to the wall of the elevator before you can even think of scolding Yoongi for his driving.

“I’ve pictured thousands of ways I’ve wanted to fuck you.” He hikes your leg over his hip. “But this is going to be quick.”

The elevator dings for the penthouse floor and with his inhuman speed, Yoongi moves you into the entry way and through the apartment, his mouth devouring yours as he deposits you onto his bed.

“No foreplay. Please just fuck me.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he licks down the column of your throat.

“Are you ready for me already?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Yes.” You take his hand and move it between your legs, your dress bunching around your hips as you push it out of the way.

Yoongi takes your hint, his fingers delving into your underwear to find your soaking pussy. He groans, pushing his fingers inside to pet your walls.

“So you are.” He sits up on his knees between your legs, throwing his suit jacket off of his shoulders and tossing it across the room.

You sit up on your elbows, watching intently as he undoes the buttons of shirt and reveals the beautiful skin of his chest and stomach. The muscles are there, but he’s also unexpectedly soft as your fingers explore the planes.

You help him the rest of the way out of his shirt, leaning up further to kiss his chest. His hands grip your hair but he doesn’t move you away, letting you traverse his skin with your lips and tongue for a moment.

“Get this off of me.” You start to reach behind you for the zipper of the dress but Yoongi has other ideas.

He reaches down and grabs your hips, flipping your body over so that you’re on your stomach and face down on the bed.

“Allow me.” His mouth is on the exposed skin of your back, kissing a wet path down your spine as he unzips the dress. You can’t help the moan that escapes you, or the way your hips push back to try and find friction. “Greedy,” he mumbles against the small of your back.

“Please, Yoongi. Just hurry up.” You slide the sleeves off of your arms so that Yoongi can pull the dress the rest of the way off. It must’ve been expensive, but he still tosses it to the floor.

When you try to roll back over onto your back, he grabs your hips and holds you in place.

“No, I think I’ll have you just like this.” You hear him take off his belt and the mattress move slightly when he removes his pants. “Hold onto something, little monster.”

There’s no time to protest; you barely have time to grab the comforter before he’s sheathing his cock inside you in one fluid motion. You fall forward on your elbows, your face meeting the bed as you cry out from the intrusion.

“Fuck…” you whine, tightening your hold on the comforter as he starts to rock his hips, burying himself to hilt each time he pumps back into you.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? So desperate for cock that you’d let a vampire defile you.” His hands hold so tightly to your hips that you know there will be bruises immediately.

“Yes, I wanted it so bad.” You can feel drool begin to form at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you harder.

“Just remember, little monster, out there you’re the perfect princess for the public to see. But in here, in my bed, you’re my good little whore.” He thrusts particularly hard on the last word, shoving your top half flat against the bed when your arms give out.

“Yoongi…” It barely comes out a whisper, but you know he hears you.

“Come here,” he grunts, leaning over your body and wrapping his arms around your torso, pulling you up to press your back to his chest, his cock staying nestled inside you as he adjusts you the way he wants.

His thrusts stay deep, but slow down slightly. One hand grips your breast while the other spreads your legs wider over his lap.

“I’m going to cum…fuck I’m so close.” Your head flops back and rests on his shoulder, sweat coating your skin.

“You’re lucky that I want to feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, little monster. I’m going to let you cum.” Rough fingers find your clit, sloppy circles sending you into a frenzy as you chase your orgasm.

“Right there, yes yes, right there.” Your thighs start to shake as Yoongi pulls you down further on his cock, holding you there as you come apart, squeezing his cock just like he wanted.

“Good girl. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” He swipes your hair away from your shoulder and suddenly sinks his fangs into your throat.

His bite only elongates your orgasm…it could have been two, maybe even three orgasms all chained together. Your sight blurs at the sheer force of the climax that rolls through you.

You’re barely coherent when you feel Yoongi release inside you, hot spurts filling you up and leaking down your thighs. He moans against your neck, taking two more long pulls of blood before he pulls off, hungrily licking at the trails of blood that trickle down your throat.

Your body is completely spent as Yoongi gently lowers you onto the bed, covering you with the comforter before he gets up off the bed.

You watch with hooded eyes as he goes into his bathroom and comes back with a cloth to clean you up.

“Let me see the mess you made, baby.” He moves the covers off of your legs and cleans you up, making you whine at the contact of anything touching you there so soon. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You snuggle deeper into the covers.

“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” You feel him join you in the bed.

“Talk about what?” Your eyes are too heavy to stay open.

“The contract.” His cool body presses against your back and his arm falls over your waist.

“What about it?” you mumble.

“The next phase of it, of course.” You feel his finger swipe at the blood still on your neck, popping it into his mouth.

“Phase?”

“Engagement.”

#yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #suga fic #bts fic #bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #vampire yoongi #bts imagines #bts fanfic #fic advent calendar 2024 #recommendation 💎

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wisdomwriter4313 · 2 months ago

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Coming SOON!

Chapter 1 of Tales of a Treasure's Keeper is on the way! Tell me loves, what we think of the cover?

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smartkookiee · 4 months ago

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Vampire Boy || Ch.1 - jjk.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 𓆩♱𓆪 pairing: vampire!Jungkook x human!Reader (afab, she/her) 𓆩♱𓆪 content: 18+ explicit content, established relationship au 𓆩♱𓆪 chapter warning/tags: golden retriever vampire boyfriend jk, "27"jk 26 reader, vampire activities, blood drinking, fluff, some angst, SMUT, blood kink?? Oh they are so in love its disgusting, so much domesticity in this chapter, I love them I'm sobbing, VAMPIRE NEW YEARS, big gatsby like party, this party is crazy extravagant, like blood and money galore, little bit of gore this chapter (nothing serious), drinking, swearing, intoxication, crying, reader is a librarian, vampire history and vampire war, angsty moment for yoongi and monique, yoongi history, Jungkook really likes your blood, my own vampire rules??, Jungkook is so whipped, y/n is a little bit of a brat, they are soooo down bad for each other, vampire!Jimin, vampire!Jin, vampire!Hoseok, vampire!Yoongi, other vampire characters (the girlies) unprotected sex (Jungkook literally cannot get y/n pregnant), cream pie, fingering, dick riding, so much kissing, hickies (sort of), blood drinking during sex, god they cannot stay off each other like CHILL (lmao), discussion of feeding on animals and people, this chapter is LOOONNGGG but so fun and I loved writing it 𓆩♱𓆪word count: 23.8K 𓆩♱𓆪Series Masterlist𓆩♱𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 Next Chapter𓆩♱𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 PLAYLIST 𓆩♱𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪If you want to be added to the tag list comment on this post!! fic crossposted to ao3 𓆩♱𓆪a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO WAITED SO PATIENTLY FOR THIS. I HOPE THIS FIRST CHAPTER IS TO YOUR LIKING IF YOU SEE ANY MISTAKES NO YO DIDN'T<3 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Fumbling with your keys, you tried to wedge them between your fingers, your pocketknife a reassuring weight in your other pocket. It was late, dark, and winter had a way of making everything eerily silent.

Tonight, you were in charge of closing the library. Your coworkers lived in opposite directions, leaving you to navigate the cold streets alone. Two routes lay before you: the long way, well-lit but littered with rowdy bar-goers and men who were a little too comfortable getting a little too close, or the shortcut through the dimly lit alley but was a straight shot to the other side. One was safer but full of potential annoyances; the other was just outright stupid.

Cold nipped at your exposed skin, and you shivered. You could already hear the noise from up the street and you didn’t have the energy to fight anyone off tonight. Nope. Not worth it tonight. You turned up the street and ducked into the alley, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

Quick and easy. No stopping. Don’t look at anything.

The sound of rain dripping from pipes and rooftops was all you could hear. It masked everything else, which, in hindsight, made it even worse because now you couldn’t hear what you were actively trying to keep an ear out for. Until—

Clang.

Could have been an animal but you knew better though. You could tell, someone was definitely behind you. As light on their feet as they were, you could pick out the steps they took.

You reach into your pocket. Pulling out the knife. Slipping it open and gripping it tight in your hand. Not your best self defense weapon it works for a good scare.

“All right let’s get this over with.” You mutter under your breath twisting around on your heel, the person was obscured, the darkness surrounding them. “Might as well show yourself.”

The dark figure stepped out into the alleyway. Taking a wide stance, placing their hands on their hips. Superhero. You cocked an eyebrow before they spoke in a low rumbling tone, “I’m Batman.”

Realization settled over you and all of your nerves faded away instantly.

“Jungkook!” You whined. Folding your knife back up looking down and putting it back in your pocket. His presence appears next to you with a push of the wind around you.

“Hi baby.” Jungkook snaked his arms around your waist pulling you into him. Kissing you on the cheek. Nudging his nose into your neck and breathing in deeply. Taking in all of your scent. “God you smell good.”

This is Jungkook, your boyfriend, and evidently a vampire.

“You know you scared the shit out of me?” You hit him in the shoulder, trying to shove him away but failing. His eyes were wide and his red irises dilated with intent. He had a shit eating grin plastered across his face as well as he pulled his face away from you.

“I’m sorry. I seem to recall you promising me you wouldn’t cut through dark sketchy alleyways anymore.” He pouts but his tone was serious, you roll your eyes. You manage to pull yourself away and continue down the alley, Jungkook right on your tail.

“I seem to recall you saying you wouldn’t check up on me like this after work.” You cross your arms over yourself preserving the warmth you had.

“I was out and I was going to walk with you as a surprise! Then I saw you duck into the alleyway.” His hand looped through one of your arms and around your elbow, pulling it free from its fold. “This century has phones baby, I may be old but I know how it all works. Just call me next time you don’t feel safe.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, knowing he’s right. “I know I know. It was stupid and I was just trying to make it back quick tonight. I know it was stupid.”

“I just want you to get home in one piece please.” Jungkook whined, sliding his hand down to wrap his hand in yours. Cold fingertips enveloping your fingers. “I’m also not the only vampire in these parts”

“You’re all cold.” Holding his cold fingers between both of your paths to warm them up. You tease trying to lighten the mood and it seems to work some. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mmm, well I have you now to warm me up.” Not that Jungkook could tell the difference but you definitely could.

Vampires weren’t just ice cold like in the movies. Their temperature adapted to their surroundings like bottles of water. Fresh blood warmed them up, heaters helped, but they couldn’t actually feel the temperature. Jungkook made an effort to stay warm for you, though. You were hot blooded and having a boyfriend that stayed roughly 20 degrees colder, he tried to warm himself up just enough for you.

Because of that, that’s how you noticed it; his fingers trembled slightly, which was definitely not a reaction to the cold air outside.

“You’re shaky.” You frowned, the quivering clear.

"...Just a little hungry." Jungkook shook his head, rolling his shoulders, as if he could shake off the craving, bury it beneath sheer willpower.

You frowned, your gaze flicking to his hands. "You get the shakes when you push it too far. You should go get something to eat. I’m sure there are some drunk guys back there you could snack on."

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. "It's fine. I'll eat when we get home."

But you knew better.

You knew the way his pupils dilated too wide the moment he saw you. How his gaze kept flickering to your throat, your wrist, anywhere he could hear it. Feel it. The steady, pulsing rhythm of your heartbeat drumming against his restraint.

Jungkook was careful, always careful. But hunger had a way of gnawing at even the most controlled instincts. You saw it in the way his jaw tensed, how his fingers flexed, how his breath stuttered just slightly every time you moved too close.

He was trying so hard to ignore it.

Trying not to listen to the blood rushing beneath your skin.

Trying not to stare.

“Just take some of mine tonight.” Your voice cut through the noise of your own blood.

Jungkook perked up a little, eyes dilating further. “Really?”

“Don’t get too excited, just a little bit. I still have to work tomorrow.” You smirked, dragging him along behind you.

Jungkook tilts his head, “You make it sound like I only see you as a blood bank or something.” He looks down to his feet and a pout on his lips. You stop his train of thought though and bring both of your hands to both of his cheeks.

“I’m teasing.” You rub his cheeks with your thumbs, the coldness seeping away with the warmth you present them. “Take what you need vampire boy. Are you going to sit here and act like you’re not excited about it?”

He nods his head from side to side, chewing on his bottom lip. A hint of a fang peaking out. “Anything to do with you makes me excited.”

“Don’t be gross.” You shove him again, but he doesn’t let you go. “Let’s get home and you can take what you need.”

Jungkook hesitated but you had that determined look in your eyes. You weren’t going to let this go so easily, “Fine, but I’m having some other blood first!”

There was a certain giddiness in your steps now.“Oh I’m gonna sleep so good tonight.”

“That should not be the main reason to let me drink from you!” Jungkook protested and you dragged him along the streets swinging your connected hands. A small giggle falling from your lips.

You really didn’t mind when he drank off of you and you really did get the best sleep after since you would be literally drained. Jungkook never understood how you couldn’t really mind doing it but he didn’t find much he was surprised with you anymore.

Your ability to just be so cool and casual about the vampire things sometimes still throws him off though. He also loved it that you were just so cool because a lot of people weren’t and have not been. You had a certain curiosity and willingness to learn.

None of it scared you, it was actually cool to learn that vampires were real. Although you didn’t really initially believe it when Jungkook told you what he was.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Two and a half years ago.

Jungkook was extremely nervous.

This was a conversation he had meant to have for a long time. A year, maybe longer. He always found reasons to delay it, to avoid it. It wasn’t going to be a problem telling you; he had gotten the go-ahead from everyone. Actually, he’d had it for over a year now, but their approval didn’t matter. What mattered was what came after he told you.

Were you going to freak out? Would you believe him? Would you be mad?

A million different scenarios had run through his head all week about how this could go. The possibilities gnawed at him so deeply that he had unintentionally been avoiding you. Not responding to texts or calls as quickly. Avoiding hanging out or dates. It was entirely out of character. The longest the two of you had ever gone without seeing each other was five days, and that was only because of a vacation. Now, over a week had passed, and his silence was suffocating you.

You didn’t think anything was wrong but this sudden distance and silence from Jungkook was freaking you out. Had you done something or said something to make Jungkook mad? Did you do something that was upsetting? Was he just not feeling it anymore? You had broached the topic of moving in together recently and you wondered if that had made Jungkook uneasy. Everything seemed fine up until now. Almost perfect even, then suddenly Jungkook had completely closed himself off.

You were jumping to the worst conclusions, the biggest one, a break up. Which is what you had been emotionally preparing for. Jungkook was going to dump you and you would just have to deal with that. Easily, you could already feel this would be the biggest break up of your life. The both of you had already shared and done so much together, you couldn’t imagine giving yourself to someone else the same way.

That’s when Jungkook said he wanted to come over tonight to talk about something, you were doing everything in your power to keep yourself composed. You had been shaking and anxious since you got the text.

Even worse when you get the knock on the door.

With your hands still shaking and your heart pounding in your ears. You twist the knob and pull the door open, Jungkook standing with a soft smile on his face standing in front of you. The smile disarming you slightly.

“Hi.” You said, forcing a smile back as you tried to hide the storm brewing inside you.

“Hi baby.” Jungkook hesitates a step forward, but can sense some unease coming from you. “Can I come in?”

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t opened the door enough that he could enter. You clear your throat, “Yes… obviously.” You open the door and step to the side so he can come in. The pet name was a good sign but you are still on edge.

As he walked in, the silence in your studio apartment felt deafening. Every creak of the floorboards, every breath you took, seemed to echo. You closed the door, the sound reverberating through the small space, amplifying the tension. Jungkook paused in the middle of the room, uncharacteristically quiet, his steps heavy with unspoken words.

You moved around him, trying to read his face. He looked tired and conflicted, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. He avoided your gaze. With your anxiety spiking, you retreated to the bed, the only real place to sit in your tiny space. Perched on the edge, you gripped the blanket beneath you like a lifeline.

“You wanted to talk?” Your voice was a little hoarse. Feeling like your entire body was about to start shaking.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers fidgeting as if searching for something to anchor him. “I… I don’t really know how to say this.” He began, pacing back and forth. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, and now that I’m here, I… I don’t know how.”

The growing sense of dread in your chest felt unbearable. You couldn’t take it anymore. “If…” You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If you’re just going to dump me, please don’t drag it out. Just say it.”

Jungkook's eyes widened for a moment, “What?”

You look at him, seeing the visible confusion on his face. “That’s what this is right? You wanted to talk… and that typically means you want to end things.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook starts but with a wave of your hand you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. If that’s what this is, it's fine, just please don’t make me wait to hear it.” You hadn’t realised but you were digging your fingers into your mattress now. So hard your knuckles had gone white.

Jungkook paused for a second before he laughed, tilting his head. Eyes sympathetic. “Oh baby.” He comes over and kneels on the ground in front of you.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, his smile felt almost mocking now.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m not breaking up with you.” Jungkook sighs, he reaches and takes your hands in yours. Lacing your fingers together, “I love you, I don’t want to break up.”

You stay silent, his face has returned to its familiar soft nature versus the stressed one a moment ago. He wasn’t lying. “What?”

“We aren’t breaking up.” Jungkook kisses both of your hands, soothingly. Holding them close. Watching your face morph from concern to relaxation as his words settle in. “Why would you think that?”

You let out a heavy sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in, “Oh… is asked about moving in. I thought I had freaked you out or something and you were going to bolt.”

Jungkook laughed some more, just a quiet laugh under his breath. “You really think asking me to move in together freaked me out? We basically live together already.”

Your mouth falls into a pout, “I don’t know! You were all quiet and weird! I didn’t see you at all this week and you were barely talking to me!” You lay back on your bed, covering your face with your hands. Maybe you did jump to too many conclusions, but all the behavior this week was weird.

Jungkook gets to his feets but lays down next to you on your bed. “I do have something to tell you and it is serious. I just didn’t know how I wanted to tell you yet so I didn’t want to talk to you until I figured out how I wanted to do it.” He rested his hand on your stomach, wanting to pull you closer but letting you stay where you were.

You peak between your fingers to look at him. Jungkook's eyes are full of love only for you and no malicious intent behind them. “Is it going to give me a heart attack? Like the one you almost just gave me?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Might be confusing but hopefully no heart attack.”

“Well tell me. I can handle basically any news now.” You both sit back up on your bed. You pull your legs under you so your legs are crossed together.

Jungkook paused. Now he really had to face the music. You could tell whatever it was really was serious and probably wasn’t going to be easy. He just needed to do it. He just needed to rip the bandaid off and say it. Get it off his chest. There was no easy way, and he would spend a lifetime explaining if he needed to.

“Okay.” He stayed quiet for a moment, “I-... shit this is hard.”

You watched as he figured this out in his mind. You could tell he was really jumping through hoops. You, trying to break the tension, say, “You’re not pregnant right? I’m not ready to be a dad.”

You laugh at your own joke but Jungkook just rolls his eyes with a smile. Knowing you aren’t serious and just trying to make this easier. Jungkook continues, “This is serious!”

“Sorry. Take your time. You know you can tell me anything.” You say with sincerity, reaching a hand to rub his arm.

“I know.” He nodded, “Everything… will be different. Everything will change.”

“Okay, now you are really making me nervous.” You shift uncomfortably on the bed, you really hoped something wasn’t wrong. Like he was sick or something.

He looks between your eyes for a moment, the whole nature of the relationship you two had may just crumble in a moment. Everything that you knew would suddenly be unknown. That terrified him. He couldn’t predict what would happen next. He can say everything perfect and could be just right and still not know what you would say next.

Just say it.

“I’m… I’m a vampire.” Jungkook whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together not fully hearing him, “What?”

Jungkook takes in a long long deep breath, meeting your eyes. “I’m a vampire.”

Silence fell over the room. Neither of you said a thing, you were just staring between Jungkook's eyes. Trying to find a lie. Trying to find a reason? Because this surely had to be a joke. He had to be joking.

“Honey.” Jungkook places a hand on your knee for a moment. You reflexively pull it back.

“Wow.” You say, a small shake to your head. A certain mistiness to your eyes. “I’ve heard a lot of excuses but this really takes the cake.” You stand up from the bed back facing to Jungkook. His face contorted into concern watching you.

“What? What are you talking about?” Jungkook moves so he’s sitting on the side of the bed now.

You turn around, clear hurt in your eyes. “You know it actually would have been kinder to just dump me versus saying something insane to get me to dump you. If that’s what you want then—”

Jungkook stands for a moment, pausing your train of thought. “I’m-I’m not lying though.”

“Yeah, right. I’m a vampire. That’s rich.” You start laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Trying to overwhelm the pain forming in your chest.

“Have I ever given you a reason to think I’m lying? Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?” Jungkook steps toward you and you stand your ground. You don’t answer him but just shake your head. You looked angry and so he was thinking of anything he could do. “Why would I suddenly make up a wild story to get you to break up with me?”

You let out a noise of annoyance,“Because you wanted an easy way out, I don’t know!” A small huff trailing behind your words.

Jungkook places both of his hands on your shoulders, “Y/N this is real. I’m telling you the truth. I love you, I would never lie to you about something like this. I am… a vampire. I’m not trying to make an excuse, this is real.” His grip was tight on you, tighter than you had ever felt before. Unnaturally so.

Nothing in the way he was speaking seemed like a lie. No malice or farce, which was the part that was confusing you the most. It was completely sincere. As far as you had known he had never lied to you. That little voice of self preservation was still ringing in your mind though, telling you to get out. To run. “If… Well… Then… Then prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a vampire then there are surely ways to prove it… So prove it.” You look into his eyes now. If he had any chance of saving this it was now, he had to show you everything or else you would be done. Which he was more than ready to do.

Jungkook’s mouth did move but you very distinctly heard him say, Okay. Like an echo inside your mind you almost couldn’t convince yourself he hadn’t just said it.

He brought his hands up to his eyes, pinching something, contacts. He took them from both eyes, pulling out a contact lens case from a pocket and placing them back in respectively. Jungkook lifted his head again to reveal not the dark brown ones you were so used to but ones that were a deep crimson. Could almost look brown in certain lights, but they were definitely red. Then Jungkook opened his mouth and you watched as two sets of fangs detracted down over where his k9’s were. Two long and what you could only imagine were incredibly sharp fangs.

Jungkook just took in your reaction, you blinked a few times standing in silence. No change in expression to show what you were thinking or feeling. The sweet boy you had come to know and love had transformed in front of your eyes. Although his new features seemed to initiate a fight or flight response in you, Jungkook could sense it. He tried to reach out to you but you flinched, just enough for him to notice.

He wanted desperately to bring you closer, but he needed to let you take it all in.

“I know. It’s… a lot. I just couldn’t keep it a secret anymore—”

“This is so cool!” Your face morphed into a look of complete fascination. Voice shooting up and octave. Your sudden change in demeanor threw Jungkook off, you took quick steps toward him and suddenly you were pushing him to sit on the bed again. You fingers swiftly move into his mouth holding his lips up away from his gums, inspecting his teeth.

Jungkook sat dumbfounded and eyes wide for a moment, he wasn’t prepared nor expecting this kind of outburst. You were gripping onto each side of his head, Moving it from side to side so you could get a good look at them. They were pretty big and seemed to just come out of nowhere from the roof of his mouth. Completely replaced where his regular teeth were. They were pretty and almost seemed to fit him more naturally than his regular teeth. Your thumbs were still pulling at his lips revealing his gums, viewing where the fangs hide.

“So these just retract and detract? Do you do it on command? Does it hurt?” You say as your lean your eyes close into his mouth viewing the anatomy. Jungkook stifled a laugh because he wasn’t really able to get words out with your thumbs in his mouth. You traced one of them with your thumbs, but accidentally pricked yourself on the end of it. “Okay, sharper than I thought.”

The smell of your blood being so close to Jungkook's nose made his pupils dilate instantly, you watched it happen but Jungkook kept himself still. It was always a natural reaction to blood.

“Careful.” Jungkook pushed your hands away while holding your wrists in his hands. “They hide up inside of my skull and I can do it on command. It doesn’t hurt anymore though.”

“Show me again.” You smile, a small hint of anticipation lacing your voice. “Please?”

Jungkook nods, opening his mouth. He releases one of your hands so you can push back his lip again with your thumb. As Jungkook pushes his fangs in and out of their place and you can visibly see how they move up and down. You were completely mesmerized by the action. Just watching his fangs seems to take their rightful place in his mouth. It was so weird to watch but also extremely fascinating. You let his lip go at a certain point once your curiosity had been satisfied. Jungkook traced the inside of his lips with his tongue to comfort the muscle that had been forced back.

You found your fascination had moved from his teeth back to his eyes. “You wore color contacts this whole time?” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, looking between his eyes. Tracing, with your eyes, the new unfamiliar color that lined them. These were his real eyes.

“Can’t exactly walk around with red eyes without some suspicion or stares.” Jungkook smiled, he could relax again, placing his hands on the side of your body as you just observed him. No, inspected him, like you were in a lab. He didn’t mind, you could ask him anything and he will tell you whatever you want.

You were still stuck on his eyes. They were such a dark red, velvety. They suited him well. The same ones you had looked at so many times but now you were actually seeing them. “They’re beautiful.”

“Really?” His heart felt like it skipped a beat in his chest, your first complement of his true appearance.

“I love them. They’re… I don’t even have the words. They’re… you. This is you.” Because this is the first time you really were seeing him, seeing him for everything. You thought you knew him before but it was all complete now.

“This is me.” Jungkook whispered, a weight finally being taken away from him. No more hiding.

You just stand there quietly staring at him, imprinting this moment in your memory. Taking in every detail. But you couldn’t help but have a million different things also running through your mind. A million different questions and a million thoughts about what this means now.

Jungkook could see you running through every question in your mind, just waiting for you to ask. He had nothing in his head though, nothing he wanted to think about. You were here, and you weren’t mad. You were here and you were excited. You were still here and you weren’t sending him away.

“I have just… so many things I want to ask.” You rock a little bit on your feet. Anticipation eating you from the inside out.

“Ask anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want.” Jungkook jumped on the end of your sentence, eager, insistent. He wanted to give you every answer. He would give you everything.

“Well… uhh… I don’t know. Um.” Your mind flipped through every vampire story you had ever heard, sifting through myths and legends, trying to figure out where to start. “Okay. Speed? Strength? Is that real, or just a fairy tale?”

“That’s all real.” Jungkook said without hesitation. “I’ve actually been faking straining when I pick up heavy things for you. It doesn’t feel like anything.” He shrugged, as if admitting to a harmless prank.

“Really? Show me!” Excitement bubbled up in your chest, making you bounce slightly on your heels.

Jungkook grinned, standing from the bed with a casual ease. He turned, scanning your apartment, his sharp gaze flicking over every object. His eyes landed on your massive wooden dresser. The one that had nearly killed you when you first moved in, requiring the help of two friends and a ridiculous amount of cursing just to get it through the door.

Without hesitation, Jungkook strode toward it. He crouched slightly, slipping both hands beneath the base, but there was no visible effort. No tensed muscles, no grunt of exertion; just an easy, almost lazy movement as he lifted it clean off the floor. The dresser, heavy enough to crush a human, might as well have been a stack of pillows in his grip.

“See?” He turned his head toward you, lifting it up and down a few times as if he were curling a dumbbell at the gym. He even tossed it lightly into the air, barely an inch, just enough to make your stomach lurch with the thought of it crashing down, before catching it again.

Your mouth fell open.

"Holy shit.”

Jungkook grinned and set the dresser back in place with an almost exaggerated gentleness, as if it were made of glass. His hands lingered on it for a moment before he turned back to you, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“This is so cool! I never have to lift anything ever again.” You said, your mind still struggling to process what you had just seen. “I’ll just have you do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He was suddenly in front of you, closing the space in an instant, his presence comforting despite what you thought vampires were supposed to be. “Am I your pack mule now?”

“Only for the really heavy stuff.” You teased, tilting your head up at him.

Jungkook chuckled, his fangs barely flashing as his smile grew. Then his hands came up, cupping your face with a gentleness that contradicted the sheer, terrifying strength you had just witnessed. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, grounding you in the moment.

“Ask me more.” He said, his voice softer now. “Please. I want to answer all of your questions. No matter how long it takes.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“This is just so insane. You really are… a vampire.” The words left your lips like an exhale, the weight of them heavy in the air.

Jungkook just smiled, his hands never leaving your face. “Yeah,” He murmured. “and you’re not scared.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, one that made something deep inside you shift.

Because he was right. You weren’t scared. You were fascinated.

“For how long?” You asked, studying him carefully. “Are you actually twenty-seven?”

Jungkook’s lips pressed together for a moment. Then he shook his head, his eyes briefly flicking away before he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I’m�� much older.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. “How much older?”

“Five hundred and twenty-three.”

Silence.

Your mouth parted slightly, your mind struggling to wrap itself around the number. Five hundred. And twenty-three. Your eyes widened as the realization fully sank in, and before you could stop yourself, a small, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of you. You clapped your hands over your mouth.

“Oh my god.” Another breathy laugh. “You’re so old!”

Jungkook’s expression immediately twisted into one of betrayal, his brows knitting together. “Hey!”

You dropped your hands, grinning at his wounded look. “Cradle robber.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize I was dating a man with both feet literally in the grave!”

“Y/N!” Jungkook groaned, his head dropping forward in exaggerated defeat. He pouted, lips forming the perfect shape of a complaint. You giggled, the sound light and unbothered, before reaching up to pull his face closer. You pressed small, playful kisses along his jaw, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose. Each one chasing away the wounded puppy look on his face. Replaced with a crooked smile.

“I just needed to get it out! I promise it’s fine!” You laugh some more to Jungkook's dismay, but you settle for a moment and another thought creeps in. “Is that strange? You’ve seen the world change so many times.” You rub your hands up and down his arms in a soothing motion.

Jungkook’s hands found your waist, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly along your sides. “It’s funny… it’s just normal now.” His voice softened, more thoughtful. “I think I’ve liked this century the best so far. I miss certain things about the past, but I also don’t.” His dark eyes searched yours, as if debating whether to say more. “It’s exciting to see what will become of humans.”

A strange, quiet feeling settled over you. You couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Seeing wars begin and end. Cities rise and fall. Watching humanity evolve and adapt, century after century, while you remained unchanged.

You swallowed. “Are you the only one?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No.”

You leaned in a little, your fingers tightening slightly on his arms. “How many are there?”

“In the world?” He tilted his head, considering the scope of your question.

“Sure.” You shrugged, though that wasn’t exactly what you meant.

He exhaled, brows furrowing as he thought. “Uhhh, maybe a few thousand? Not an exact number, but there are more than you’d think.”

“Huh. Anyone we know?” You narrow your eyes, already suspecting the answer. There’s no way Jungkook is the only one in your friend group.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes.”

“Who?” You demand, your voice rising slightly.

“Jimin… and Jin… and Hobi.” Jungkook starts, then hesitates again, as if debating whether to continue.

“I knew it!” You leap to your feet, nearly toppling over in your excitement. Jungkook reaches out to steady you, his hands firm on your arms as you wobble on the uneven mattress. “The first time I met Jin, I was like, ‘If there’s anyone in this world who’s a vampire, it’s that guy!’”

Jungkook chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think he told me about that.”

Your enthusiasm falters for a moment. “Wait, told you? I don’t think I told anyone that.”

“Yeah… He read your thoughts.”

“What!” You exclaim, your voice jumping an octave.

“Yeah… we can read thoughts.” Jungkook admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh my god.” You collapse back onto the bed, your hands covering your face. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?” Jungkook leans over you, his face hovering above yours, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You sit up on your elbows, glaring at him. “I’ve… not exactly had the purest thoughts about you… in the presence of our friends…” Jungkook lets his head drop with a laugh, his shoulders shaking. You groan and push him away with your foot against his chest. “This is mortifying! If any of them read my thoughts, they know what a freak I am!”

“I don’t think they need to read your thoughts to know that.” Jungkook teases, dodging your half-hearted kick.

“Jungkook!” You shout, grabbing a pillow from on your bed, throwing it at him.

“What!” He laughs, catching the pillow effortlessly. Then let it fall to the floor.

“This is the worst part about all of this!” You wail, flopping back onto the bed. Your melodrama filling the room but it seems to not phase Jungkook whatsoever.

“No one cares!” He reassures you, sitting down beside you.

“I do!” You insist, covering your face again.

“If anyone would care, it might be Monique.” Jungkook adds casually, as if he wasn’t dropping another bombshell.

“What?” You bolt upright again, your eyes wide.

“Yeah… uhh, that was the other thing. Monique is a vampire too.”

“What?”

“Oh and your friend Rehna… also a vampire. Young but she’s one too.”

“I think this may literally be too much information.” You mutter, staring aimlessly up at your ceiling. Your voice quieter now. “So has everyone just been laughing at me for not knowing?”

“Not at all.” Jungkook says quickly, his tone soft. He lays down next to you and reaches an arm over you, pulling you into him. “They all love you. It’s just in our nature to hide what we are. It doesn’t always go well when humans find out.”

“Am I going to get in trouble for knowing?” You ask, turning your head to face him. A sudden worry creeping into your voice.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.

“Well, okay, not to reference movie vampires, but typically there are rules for telling humans. You either have to turn me, or kill me, or something. I don’t know.”

Jungkook blinked. Then, to your surprise, he laughed—a soft, rich sound that made the knot in your chest loosen just a little. He shook his head, “No. There are no rules or laws for what we do or who we tell. We have traditions, but no laws.”

“Okay, so I’m not going to get hunted down by, like, a vampire government now?” you ask, only half-joking.

“No. Maybe by other vampires, but that’s for food. You probably stink like me anyways, so no one will touch you.” Jungkook said it so casual as if he didn’t need to explain what that meant.

“I stink?” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, glaring at him.

“It’s more like a scent.” Jungkook explains, his voice softening. “Vampires have their own, and humans have their own.”

“Do I smell bad?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all.” Jungkook says, his voice dropping to a low. “To me, you smell amazing.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down and you shove his shoulder away from you in annoyance.

“Is that because I’m food? Technically?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes and no.” He admits. Rolling back your direction. “I’m in love with you, so I always want to be around you and near you. You also have the same blood type I did when I was human, so that draws me to you.”

“Well, at least I don’t smell bad.” You mutter, crossing your arms.

“Well, Hobi thinks you smell bad.” Jungkook adds with a grin. “You have his least favorite blood type.”

“Oh, well, that’s just great.” You reply dryly.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Jungkook reassures you. “It just means he’s less likely to snack on you.”

“Okay, wait.” You say, holding up a hand. “So you can smell blood, read minds, and have super strength and speed. Do you guys have other powers?”

“That’s where the differences start to come in.” Jungkook explains. “Every vampire has different skills beyond those. Some develop early, some with age and time, and some with practice.”

“What’s yours?” You ask, intrigued. He had to have something and you knew it had to be good.

“Mine is… sort of similar to a siren.” He says, his voice taking on a mysterious edge.

“Are sirens real too?” You press, leaning a bit too close, “Not the point, continue.”

“I have to sing for it to work.” Jungkook hesitates for a moment but then explains. “It sort of casts a spell on the person I’m targeting. It’s mostly for luring in easy prey, but I can use it for other reasons too—alter memories, issue commands, or access knowledge about the person and their body. The person never remembers they’ve been affected by it afterward.”

You pause, a thought occurring to you. “Have you ever used it on me?”

Jungkook nods, his expression turning serious and he chewed on his lips for a moment.. “...Just once. It was on that trip we took months ago. I had to bring food for myself, and it was more than usual. More than would be easy to hide or explain. So I… used it to alter your memory of the food. Instead of blood bags, you remember regular food.”

You paused realizing the weight of what he was just telling you. Although a small occurrence, he had to alter a part of your memories. You think back on it and try to see if maybe you did remember anything different, the only other thing you really remember from that trip is Jungkook getting extreme food poisoning.

“I wasn’t ready to tell you yet.” Jungkook continues, his voice tinged with guilt. “I wanted to stay… us a little longer because I was so afraid of how it would change things. I got so sick the night I did it because I felt so guilty. I promised when we started dating I would never use any of my powers on you…”

“How come?” You ask softly.

“Because… I knew whatever this was, it was… I don’t know. What we have is good… and is like one of the only good things I’ve found in a long time.” He says, his eyes locking onto yours. “I wanted it all to be real—no powers, no manipulation. Just me… and just you. No tricks.”

You both sit in silence looking at each other, before you completely breeze by his small moment of vulnerability. “You said you had food poisoning.” You recall, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It felt like it at the time.” Jungkook nods, thinking back on it. He really did get sick to his stomach. The guilt ade bringing all that blood almost a complete waste. “I felt so guilty because I never want to hide things from you. Ever.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that.” You say, reaching out to take his hand.

“No, you don’t need to apologize.” He squeezes your hand gently. “I just wish I’d told you sooner. If I’d known it would go this well, I probably would have told you in the first month.”

“I might have been scared in the first month.” You admit with a small laugh. “Might have run away out of self preservation.”

“That’s why I waited.” He says, smiling softly. “But then I kept waiting and waiting for the right moment and I got more anxious.”

“Well… now I know.” You say, laying on your side next to him again. Your faces so close together,

“Now you know.” He echoes, wrapping an arm around you.

“How do you eat? What do you eat? Human? Animal?” You ask after a moment, your curiosity resurfacing.

“Human blood and animal blood. Animal blood more often.” He explains. “Lots of vampires work at blood banks.”

“Wow, shocker.” you say dryly. “Vampires working with blood? Insane.”

“I know, news of the millennia.” Jungkook replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm as you both burst into laughter.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Present Day

That felt like an entire lifetime ago now.

Since then, you’d learned practically everything there was to know about vampires—the myths, the truths, the strange little quirks no one ever talked about. The things that were never written in books, never whispered in horror stories. Jungkook had been an open book from the moment he told you. Just the truth, plain and simple, dropped into conversation like he was telling you his favorite color.

At first, it had been surreal. The idea that vampires weren’t just creatures of fiction but real, living. Well, undead, beings who walked among humans undetected. That the man you had been falling in love with had walked through centuries, watched history unfold firsthand. It made your head spin. But never scary. Jungkook was still Jungkook. He still left wet towels on the bathroom floor. He still made the world’s worst coffee. He still held your hand in crowded places and kissed your forehead when you were too tired to function.

The only big difference in your relationship was that you couldn’t really eat together. For obvious reasons.

Also the sun thing, not a huge problem like people think. They can be in the sun but if they don’t eat the same day they will die. They can be out longer the older they get. They don’t immediately disengage though.

You had barely scratched the surface even after all this time.

After too long in the cold, the two of you finally reached your apartment. The moment you stepped onto your floor, you spotted something taped to the front door. Your name and Jungkook’s were written in elegant, swirling calligraphy, the gold ink shimmering under the hallway light.

“Already that time of year.” You plucked the envelope from the door, holding it up as Jungkook unlocked it.

He barely glanced at it before sighing. “We should ditch.”

You snorted. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over great. Centuries of tradition thrown out the window.”

��We could start our own tradition.” He offered, wiggling his eyebrows as he pushed the door open.

You shook your head, already slipping inside. “And when Jimin hunts us down and drags us there himself, then what?”

Jungkook grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, We run faster. More like he’ll run faster.

You ignored him, already peeling the envelope open. The paper was thick and luxurious—the kind that felt expensive—and it smelled faintly of pine, because of course Jimin thought of every last detail. The invitation itself was beautiful, decorated with intricate gold and green accents, the lettering impossibly flawless. Jimin never just sent invitations. He crafted them, turning them into little works of art.

Jimin’s Annual New Vampire Soirée.

The famed New Years party.

You shrugged off your jacket, letting the day slip away with it, and—without needing to ask—Jungkook took it from you, hanging it neatly in the small coat closet by the door.

“I’ve attended just about every single one of these things.” He groaned, toeing off his shoes and trailing behind you. “I think he can live without us for one year.”

By every single one, he meant a few hundred.

“Oh, come on.” You teased, skimming the details. “It’s the only time we get to really dress up. I like you in a suit.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “That’s your main selling point?”

“Duh.” You smirk, it also gives you an excuse to wear something nice which is rare these days. “Because then I get to take it off after. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

Jungkook sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. But if Jimin ropes me into another game of charades, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Deal.”

You both round your way to the kitchen. Your place together was very nice, mostly funded by Jungkook. You had two bedrooms that stretched up a hallway, one for the two of you and one for a small office the two of you curated. A large and beautiful kitchen that is really only used by you. In a high building with beautiful views.

You pull out a stool at the island. Jungkook pulling out a few bags of blood. They were donation bags like you would see at a blood drive. Which means he had elected to have human blood tonight vs animal. Jungkook didn’t really mind eating in front of you anymore. The first few weeks you two lived together you couldn’t stomach it, but now it was normal.

You’d asked him before what it was like. Vampires could still eat real food but it doesn’t fill them up or provide the same benefits it does for humans. They need blood or they won’t survive. It’s food, like anything you eat. They have cravings for it and some taste better than others. Sometimes they needed it more often and sometimes they could go without it. Jungkook had recently been trying to go longer and longer without it but it had been proving difficult. He could usually feed once a week and be okay, but he’s been trying to push for two weeks.

Who would have thought that having a human partner would make that difficult?

Jungkook opened one of the pouches and he just sucked on the dispensing tube like it was a fruit pouch of some kind. The way he reacted made him act like it was delicious, you were always curious but knew it would not have the same effect for you. Would probably be gross or your body would naturally make you throw it up. Still, your curiosity always lingered.

Jungkook noticed you staring at him out of the corner of his vision as he was looking at his phone and eating his meal. “You’re next, be patient.” He teased.

“That’s not!… that’s not why I was staring at you. Can’t I just look at my boyfriend?” You cross your arms, putting up your fake defenses.

“Always. You just look like you want to ask me something.” He turns his focus to you, still drink from the pouch.

You pause for a moment, “What was it like the first time…?”

“Eating?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever asked.” You lean on your elbows on the counter.

It’s been quite some time but Jungkook does remember it. “It was warm… but sweet. Like candy but if the sugar high hit instantly. It was like I was taking my first breath.”

“Was it weird?”

“No… Strangely. It felt completely normal. Weird as it sounds. It was like my mind had completely rewired itself away from regular food. Blood was all I needed.” Jungkook shrugged, it really was night and day. One day he wanted human food and the next he couldn’t care less about it.

“You weren’t afraid of it?”

Jungkook nodded, “Of course… but unfortunately because of our nature you have to move past it quickly… You had to kill to eat. We didn’t have the convenience of having blood banks so we didn’t have to kill.”

“I didn’t think about that… no preservation.”

Jungkook eyed you for a moment. “What? Thinking about trying it?” He waved the pouch in your direction, the blood sloshing around in the bag making your stomach turn.

“Well most of the time you make it look good, so my mind wanders. I know it’ll be shit for me.” You rest your chin on one of your palms. Jungkook finished off one of the pouches. Teeth stained red and his pupils were no longer dilated like before. Which was the usual once his hunger had been satisfied.

Jungkook smiles, swiping his bottom lip to catch a drop of blood. He starts on the second one, drinking this one much faster than the first. You can tell he doesn’t like it very much from the face he makes. He rounds his way around the counter, to you. Behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he drank. One of his arms snaking around you. Your back pressed into his chest.

Although the packs were cold, Jungkook’s body heats up just a little bit when eating. Making him almost feel human.

“Bad?” You ask as he sets down the second pack on the counter. His tongue poked out his cheeks as he wiped his teeth clean of the bitter taste.

“Just bitter. Not great.” Jungkook’s sighs wrapping his other arm around you now. His nose is buried into your neck now.

“You know where I know there will be really good blood?” You muse and Jungkook just rolls his eyes. “Jimin’s party.”

“I’d still rather spend my time with you.” He places a kiss right on your jaw where your neck meets. “Alone.”

“Hmm maybe next time.” You rest the side of your head against his. You both rocked from side to side slightly. “Plus you get to have me all the time.”

“I know I know.” He places another kiss further down your neck. His grip is tightening around you.

Jungkook was barely listening though, your steady heartbeat was pounding in his ear. Yes he had quenched his thirst quite a bit but he still needed yours. The fact that you had his same blood type made it incredibly difficult to resist on days when he was especially hungry because your blood is all he would want. If only he could feed off of you whenever he wanted and it wouldn't kill you quickly. Still, he could hear the pulsing vein in your neck calling out for him. He was usually pretty good about blocking out this kind of thing around you but tonight was especially difficult.

“Just do it.” You whisper, you can feel him getting anxious and a little twitchy. You knew he wanted to eat. “Go ahead.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Not yet.”

“Jungkook, you and I both know you haven’t eaten enough.” You pull out of his grip and twist around in your seat to look at him. “Free meal might as well be written on my forehead.”

“Better not be. I’m the only one allowed to eat from you.” He smiled, both of his hands running up and down your thighs now.

Before you could get a word in, his lips were on yours. One of his hands coming up to cup your jaw. The kiss has a certain intensity to it and you match Jungkook’s energy in kind. His tongue sliding into your mouth and your taste buds being met with a iron like flavor. A little off putting at first but you push past it. It wasn’t the first time you had tasted the aftermath of a feeding before.

When you were first dating Jungkook would wash his mouth out pretty good before he would see you so that it wouldn’t happen. Not exactly easy to explain why he tastes like his mouth was bleeding when making out.

Your hands found their way to the bottom of his shirt and your hands glided up his abdomen. Warm hands meeting cold skin. Your legs widen to let him stand between them. You were leaning back against the counter, the corner digging into your back some but you didn’t mind. Jungkook’s hand on your jaw moves it’s way to the back of your neck and into your hair. He gives it a light tug which elicits a small sound from you. A small whine which is exactly what he wanted

You break away from him for a second, breathless. “Jungkook… You have to eat.”

Jungkook kisses you again, a little sloppier this time. Before pulling back, “Not yet my love.” He mumbles against your skin kissing his way down your throat, his other hand tracing the inside of your thigh.

You sigh in content leaning into him, “Y-You get a little intense when you’re like this though.”

Jungkook pulls back away from you, kissing you again. Soft and sweet. Before breaking away. “I’m alright. I just missed you so I want to have my way with you now.”

“Oh is that right?” You tilt your head to the side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “You know you see me everyday?”

“It’s not enough.” Jungkook whispers, and kisses you again.

You bring your hands up to either side of his cheeks and drink him in. “You’re cheesy.” You mumble against his lips.

Jungkook brings both of his hands down and tucks them underneath you to lift you from the stool. The sudden motion makes you yelp. “You love it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You say nonchalantly like you were trying to play it off. Jungkook just rolls his eyes, keeping a tight grip on you.

Before you could think, your body was pressed into Jungkook's. As the kitchen and hall blurred past your vision as if you were in a car. Jungkook ran the both of you into your bedroom. Your hair instantaneously a mess around your face.

“Jungkook!” You whined, he let you fall from his grip onto the bed. You immediately smoothed your hair away from your face. “I hate when you do that.”

Jungkook is standing at the end of your bed, pulling his shirt over the top of his head. “I have a few ways I can make it up to you.”

“I hope so.” You bite down on your bottom lip but a huge smile still on your face. Jungkook couldn’t help but find you absolutely intoxicating.

Jungkook kneels in front of the bed, “God you’re beautiful.”

His hands climbed their way up your thighs and under your shirt to help lift it over your head in a swift motion. Discarding it to the floor. Your hands come down to unbutton your pants and Jungook slides them off of your legs. Jungkook with ease, pulling your hips to the end of the bed. Although to Jungkook it felt like nothing. Anytime he moved you you could tell the strength he held. It was clear that he was intentionally holding back.

Jungkook’s face came down between your legs, kissing his way up your left thigh. You watch him for a moment, you could see his eyes dilate for a second and a hint of his fangs grow from his mouth. In that instant one of his fangs punctured the skin of your thigh.

You gasp in surprise. A little blood escaped before Jungkook licks over the wound, closing it again. Jungkook's eyes closed and his breath raged. Your blood is like ecstasy on his tongue.

“Honey, a little warning next time.” You pout.

“Sorry baby.” He looks up to you with this puppy dog expression. “I just needed a taste.”

“Okay, it just hurts. Easier on the neck. I’m used to it.” You bring your hand down to rub his cheek. He turns his face to kiss your palm.

“So you’re saying I need to bite you more places more often.” He smirks and you just hum.

“Sounds good to me.” You giggle and Jungkook's face softens. A look more of adoration.

“Whatever you want, pretty.” His head dips back down between your legs. You lay back on the bed. Jungkook hooking your underwear in between his teeth and pulling it down your legs.

He presses a feather light kiss to your clit before kissing all the way up your stomach, then chest, and then kissing you on the mouth. Sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. Jungkook's fingers were wasting no time before he was rubbing your clit with one of his hands. Slow and tantalizing circles. You bit down on Jungkook’s lip pulling it back before letting him fall back into place.

“I’m supposed to do that.” Jungkook fake whined, his fingers tracing the outside of your entrance which was dripping. Waiting for him to touch you.

“Whoops.” You bring your arm to rest above your head. “Instructions unclear.”

He kisses you again, before pulling away to kiss and then suck on your neck. Not feeding, just sucking to give you a regular old hickey. Taking two of his fingers to and sliding them deep into your dripping pussy. Reaching and curling his fingers to touch that spongy spot inside you that can easily make you cum.

“Fuck just like that.” You moan, your eyes screwing shut. Your knees coming up in reaction to the pleasure. Jungkook moved to a different spot on your neck and left another barely visible mark. He had seen you cum and had you exactly like this hundreds of times now but he still could not get enough. He pulled away from you to look down at you again.

But sex was always a little complicated. Your blood moving and your heart pounding is almost deafening. Especially today he was still hungry and his mind still reeled with needing your blood. Spinning as he could hear the blood in your body pumping quickly with every quickened breath you took because of every touch he gave you. He hadn’t even realised, his fangs had reappeared in his mouth. He was beginning to drool.

You open your eyes again and you see it. He was dazed, eyes completely dilated again. “Jungkook.” You say, tracing in line down his face. “Come back here.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, shaking his head. His fangs returned back in his mouth. Eyes returning to normal. “Sorry baby.”

He pulls his fingers out and begins to rub your clit from side to side. You were getting close quickly, but you needed a little more.

“You didn’t eat enough.” You raise an eyebrow to him.

“I thought I did.” He rests his forehead against your, your breathing mingling with your lips so close together. “Not enough I guess.”

You give him a quick peck on the lips before pulling back slightly. “Just a little longer honey.” You moan. You both knew if he drank from you now, the night ends here because you will be too dizzy and too tired to continue.

“I’m fine, my love. You just focus on cumming on my fingers just how I like.” Jungkook leans up and away from you, connecting his mouth with one of your nipples. Licking around the bud, sucking and slowly pushing you closer to the edge.

“Jungkook.” You moan, and Jungkook dips his fingers back between your legs. Pumping them in and out of you relentlessly. Wanting to get you over the edge, and blocking anything else out.

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from you. His teeth chatter from hunger instinctually and he has to shake his head back to a normal state. He was so hard inside of his pants he could have cum just like this. “Oh you’re doing so good.”

“God I need you to fuck me.” You whine, grinding your hips into Jungkook’s hand. He follows along with your rhythm, and continues to fuck you with his fingers. It really was not enough for you.

“Oh yeah? How bad?”

“I’m serious please fuck me Jungkook.” You bring your hands up under his shoulders and around his back, digging your nails into him.

“Fuck.” He exhaled, “I really want to make you cum like this though.”

“Please baby, I need it. Please please please.” Between each please you kiss him. Jungkook chasing after your mouth after every kiss. Both of your hearts pounding in his ears, dancing together as one.

“Yes… Yes, whatever you want.” Jungkook, with some hesitation retreats from you. His hand pulls out of you and you let out a small moan but know it’ll be replaced soon. Jungkook stands and begins to discard his pants and then his boxers with little time.

You stand up and kiss him again, before spinning the both of you around and sitting him on the bed. He was fully erected and you honestly needed to fuck him badly. You wanted him to fill up every inch of you. Your eagerness surprises him a little as you rest your hands on each of his shoulders. Adjusting your hips on either side of his.

Jungkook just watches you eyes wide. His red eyes were dilated almost to black. You waste no time lining up your entrance with his tip, sinking down onto it slowly. Letting him slowly fill you up. Jungkook takes in a sharp breath leaning back on his hands while you sink down onto him. The two of you had no need for protection, from what it sounded like from many accounts. Jungkook couldn’t get you pregnant no matter how hard you tried.

Jungkook's eyes close tight, and his grip on the blanket next to him was evident. One of his hands comes to grip on your hip forcing you to bottom out on him. His grip was too tight, “Ease up.” You place your hand on top of his like you need to pull him back to earth.

“Sorry.” He moans, his head falling to the side. His dick tucked perfectly inside you and his head twitching slightly almost driving you insane. “God you feel so good, fuck.”

You hum, and lift your hips on top of him. A moan falling past your lips, “Oh yes.”

You create a slow rhythm between the two of you. Your hips rising slowly up and down on his cock. His dick rubbing up against that same spot inside you and your high building all over again. Jungkook is now able to get some relief. He was still having a hard time though. He was still just focussing on your neck.

You could see it all over his face, his fangs were slowly peeking out again. His mouth was slack and eyes all fucked out. He was hungry and you were mostly just teasing him at this point. A small punishment for not eating enough.

“Oh are you hungry?” You lift yourself up and sit yourself back down onto him again.

Jungkook let’s out a gasp as he nods, “Yes.”

“Hmm,” You sit up, Jungkook's dick dragging inside you tantalizing. “You lied to me. Said you were fine, but look at you.”

“I’m sorry baby. I… I just… please.” He begs, a cross between desire and ferality written on his face. You sit your hips back down onto him, a moan falling from the both of you. You needed to toe this line carefully, but it was always a little fun when you got too.

You loved seeing Jungkook getting so desperate for you, in more ways than one. He did it to you all the time and so you reveled in the time you got to do it to him.

You continue to tease, you tone playful, “I don’t think you deserve my blood now.”

“Oh god please no.” Jungkook’s hands come up to either side of your face, desperation in his voice. Trying to pull you closer but enough slack given so you can hold yourself away. “Beautiful that’s not funny, don’t play with me right now.”

“No. You said you were fine and you’re about to lose it.. All over my blood.” You lift your hips up and sit back down onto him again. “Shame.”

“Please let me drink from you. Please just a little bit.” Jungkook's voice became slightly hoarse and he was fidgeting under you in desperation. Making his dick move inside and you had to do your best to not just cum all over him right now.

You place your hands on top of his that are rested on either side of your face. Pulling them away. “Ask nicely.”

“Please. Oh my love please let me taste you.” He conceded, he was totally out of it. You had gotten what you wanted and it was so hot.

His eyes sparkling under the light that only creeps in through the window of your room. You don’t move anymore. You kiss both of his hands before letting them go. You tilt your head to the left side to present your neck. Jungkook, although starving, takes gentle care of you. One hand coming back to hold your opposite cheek, the other around your back. Keeping you in place. You close your eyes waiting for him to make his move.

Jungkook’s fangs were fully exposed, his senses were completely filled with you. He licks a line over the spot where he is going to puncture before he sinks both of his teeth into your neck. Straight into the vein. The pain is cold and needle-like before it is gone but the side of your face and neck feels completely numb. Then Jungkook starts to drink, you can feel your heart begin to quicken. As the blood seeps out from you through the new holes in your neck. Jungkook drinks slowly to make sure he can tell how much he is taking.

You remember the first time it happened, it hurt a lot. You felt like you could feel life draining out of you. Now it no longer hurts and has become more of an intimate act for the two of you. Jungkook was always endlessly careful about how much he took. Never more than a blood bag's worth. It was difficult because of how good you tasted, you weren’t only the love of his life but the best meal he had in his time of being a vampire.

Jungkook’s grip on your head was tight so you couldn't easily slip away, but after a moment, Jungkook loosened his grip and you could tell he was done. You had kept your eyes closed. Usually you got pretty dizzy during this so you always closed your eyes. Jungkook with some force pulled himself away from you. His face came into view. His mouth was covered in your blood and it was dripping down his chin, teeth also stained red once again. His fangs detract back into his mouth. He was out of breath.

Your eyes were tired, as you leaned forward on his shoulder. “Fuck me. That never gets old.” Jungkook sigh. Jungkook leans back in to lick over the spot to close the wounds. A stray drop of blood had made its way down your neck and collarbone. Jungkook wasted no time in licking it’s trail back up your neck. Cleaning it away for you.

You kiss his forehead because it didn’t really do it for you to taste your own blood. “It can’t be that good.”

“Oh trust me, it is.” Jungkook shifts his hips under you, his dick nudges slightly inside you. You gasp and Jungkook is finally actually able to enjoy your pleasure instead of hearing your blood pound in your ears.

You lift our hips up and down on top of him again, his cock bottoming out inside your again and you both moan. Before you can continue though, Jungkook lifts you off of him and flips the two of you back over so you’re on your back. He does this to your surprise.

“Now I can fuck you like I want.” Jungkook leans away from you and strokes his cock a few times before pressing it to your entrance. Swirling it around. You widen you legs so that he can have better access, you needed him to fuck you bad. Before you got to tired to do so.

Jungkook guides his dick inside of you again.

“Yes!” You groan, wrapping your arms around his neck, as Jungkook picks up his speed and he rocks his hips into your. The slapping of your skin echoing in the room.

“That’s right baby. Cream my cock.” Jungkook groans as he continues to rock into you. The dizziness was hitting you but you didn’t care, you could feel your climax coming.

“Fuck I’m so close Jungkook.” You groan, grinding your hips into his each time he makes contact with yours. Jungkook was kissing all around your neck, encouraging your high. He wanted you to cum so bad, getting to eat from you and then make you cum. He couldn’t think of anything better.

Jungkook's body had become warm again, eating straight from you had that effect. You loved it when it happened, made you wonder if he was this warm when he was human too.

“Cum for me baby, please please cum all over me.” Jungkook begged into your ear. Jungkook thrusted a few more times, his tip dragging against your g spot and you were cumming undone. Walls squeezing his cock as your cum began to cover him.

Your walls squeezing around him as he fucked himself into you. “Oh fuck yes. God you feel so good.”

With a few more pumps Jungkook was coming undone and cumming inside you. His cum filling up your cunt as he continued to fuck into you. Your cum and his mixing together. Jungkook thrust a few more times before coming to a stop. He slid himself out of you and his cum spilling out of your throbbing pussy. He wanted to kiss you but he had your dried blood all around his mouth.

You were pretty dizzy, having an orgasm in the midst of losing a pint of blood wasn’t a super easy combination. Jungkook slid into your bathroom, closing the door so he could flick the light on. You covered your face with with your arms anyways, not sure if you would really be able to sit up without difficulty. After a moment Jungkook returned, he had gotten a new pair of boxers and his face was all cleaned up now. With a blink of the eye he had zipped out of the room and then zipped back in, you could feel the air shift with the speed he was going.

He removed one of your arms from your face. A smile on his face as you open your eyes to look at him.

“Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” He kissed you, his skin was cold again. Taking one of your hands and helping you sit up. What you hadn’t noticed is he brought back with him some juice, and another towel that was warm to clean you up. What you didn’t really notice was how you were also covered in your own dried blood. Jungkook may have taken a bit too much since he was a little sloppy with it.

“I’m really dizzy.” Which was mild but was almost headache inducing.

Jungkook nods, grabbing the juice he has placed on the ground next to him. “I know. I got you this and you need to drink it.”

He places the cup in your hand. You drink it all down pretty quickly, you probably should have also eaten something when you got home. Would have made this a little easier but whatever. Wasn’t your first rodeo but Jungkook worried every single time. He helped you clean up after you are comfortable moving.

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Your next day at work was alright but you were, in fact, exhausted.

You were filing books away, running on two coffees, but you still felt like you were going to need another. You worked as a librarian with one of the largest Libraries in the city that had some of the oldest works, so this was your typical day in and out. You had spent a good part of your morning also restoring old books. Now you were doing some mundane tasks that needed to be finished. Luckily you would be leaving soon and early.

Your friend, Rehna, who was also your colleague, had rounded her way around the corner in your aisle to find you. She had roped you into an afternoon of shopping to find a new outfit for Jimin’s party. It was only two days away, the invite was fresh but Jimin had confirmed with you months ago that you and Jungkook would be in attendance. Much to Jungkook’s complaints.

Rehna is also a vampire.

She was the youngest of the group. She was only turned 8 years ago. She’s technically 30 but she was 23 when she turned. She’s told you her story before, she was turned on accident. She was attacked by a vampire, she ended up biting him back and she swallowed enough blood to make her turn. Apparently it didn’t take much. You actually met her before you met any of the others. She was a vampire then but she was running around on her own. She only knew of Jungkook and the others through Jimin’s parties but never hung out with them until you and Jungkook started seeing each other.

“Please tell me you’re almost done. I’m bored and I’m ready to find something perfect.”

“I would have thought you found something already.” You say, the theme was Bejeweled. Which was incredibly vague but you think you had the idea. “Honestly anything shimmery or shiny will probably work.”

“Yeah but you know these parties are basically red carpet events.”

“You just want to win the outfit contest this year.” She had entered and had yet to win the competition for the last few years you were in attendance.

Her smirk turned wicked. "Damn right I do. This is my year." She lifted a finger in a dramatic flourish. "Now hurry up."

Before you could argue, the stack of books you were holding suddenly lifted out of your arms and flew onto the shelves, slotting themselves into place with eerie precision.

"Rehna." You groaned.

She grinned, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. "Oh, look at that, you’re done! Time to go!"

"Damn vampire powers." You muttered, crossing your arms.

You were annoyingly jealous that she could move things with her mind. Would make your life much easier as it certainly makes hers. She usually wouldn’t use it so openly but she really wanted to get out of here.

“I have a feeling you won’t have to complain about them for too much longer.” Rehna jokes but realizes her mouth was getting ahead of her mind.

“What?” You say, luckily you were a bit distracted and didn’t hear what she said.

You blinked, but before you could question her, she quickly threw an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the employee room. "So, how’s Jungkook? Still annoying?"

You roll your eyes, “Jungkook is fine.”

“He doesn’t come around here as much as he used too.” She sighs. She was actually glad.

“He’s been busy lately, there’s always some new business with Jin these days. Today Jimin has roped him into something for the party.” You both enter the employee room and you both begin to gather your things.

“Oh how exciting. To be honest I’m fine with him not coming around. He always leaves his stink all around here.” She shivers at the thought, Jungkook and Rehna weren’t enemies by any means. If anything they were basically like siblings at this point but if he was the annoying brother she only cared to see at family gatherings.

“He can’t smell that bad.” You throw your bag over your shoulder.

“Believe me. He does.” She groans, it was a vampire thing. From how Jimin has described it to you it’s not very strong, it’s just subtle but some vampires don’t like others smell. Rehna really did not care for Jungkook’s scent.

“Anyways, I’m assuming Jimin will have him roped into party prep all day. Makes it easy since it’s just at Jin’s manor and not like in a cave on the side of a mountain or something.” You explain, which is exactly what he had done last year.

“Ugh but the best parties are always the ones he throws in some random obscure place.” She pouted.

“I almost lost my toes because of the cold, and none of you produced any body heat so you were no help.” You moan, thinking about it. Most of the night was very fun but by the end of it you felt like your feet were going to fall off because the cold hurt them so badly. Evidently when vampires hold a party inside a mountain in the middle of winter, cold doesn’t factor into their plans.

As you grabbed your bag, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling you. But with Rehna, that wasn’t unusual.

And honestly? You were too tired to press her on it.

“Well it’ll still be grand no matter where it’s at. Jimin will make sure of that.”

Because this party—this event—was the biggest night of the year.

Not just for vampires. For everyone.

Jimin’s soirée was a spectacle, something out of a gothic dream. It was more than a party—it was a gathering of the undead, an annual tradition that had carried on for centuries. Carried on because of Jimin. A night of indulgence and excess, of laughter and celebration. Vampires from all over the region attended, their grudges and rivalries put aside in favor of revelry. A silent truce held for one evening, upheld by nothing more than ancient tradition and the promise of a damn good time.

The venue changed every year, always extravagant, always hidden in plain sight. An old mansion, a repurposed cathedral, a secret ballroom tucked beneath the city. Chandeliers dripped with candlelight, casting golden glows against dark velvet walls. Music floated through the air; classical waltzes and modern remixes alike, played by musicians who had honed their craft for centuries. The scent of aged wine and fresh blood filled every corner, mingling with the faint traces of perfume and cologne.

But the real attraction, the thing that drew vampires from all over, was the blood.

It was a feast unlike any other.

Vampires brought their finest. Aged blood, stored in crystal decanters like fine whiskey. Fresh blood, bottled and sealed, each one labeled with its origin. Rare types, unique flavors, collected over years. Some brought exotic blends, infused with herbs and spices, creating something akin to mulled wine but richer, more intoxicating.

And it wasn’t just about drinking. It was about history. Vampires exchanged stories, sharing memories of the humans they once knew, the lives they once lived. They brought gifts, rare artifacts, and trinkets from centuries past. Some fought for sport, showcasing inhuman strength with friendly duels that blurred the line between violence and performance art. Others danced, moving with a grace that defied physics, their bodies fluid and weightless.

It was decadent. It was breathtaking.

And you got to witness all of it.

Human’s being in attendance wasn’t unusual. The situation that you and Jungkook had was not unusual. There were other vampires that had human partners and they would bring them along as well. Not all of them stayed human, the first year you went just about every human there you had met was either turned or had broken up with their vampire counterpart by the time the next party rolled around.

Human’s who weren’t the partners of vampires weren’t permitted though, or those who weren’t deeply entangled in their world. There is one man who is a sixth generation banker who is invited to these parties because he is in charge of the finances of a handful of wealthy vampires. His name is Larry. Nice guy.

Your continuation in being a human, although you and Jungkook had seemed to be attached by the hip, had brewed a curiosity in everyone. Although it wasn’t frowned upon or strange, it did feel like it to everyone else. Especially amongst Jungkook’s own coven.

“Jungkook, to the left! How many times do I have to repeat myself?!”

Jimin’s voice rang through the grand ballroom, exasperation thick in his tone. The cavernous space was in chaos—drapes of deep sapphire, shimmering crystal fixtures, and layers upon layers of bejeweled decorations yet to be placed. At the center of it all, precariously balanced on a tall ladder, was Jungkook, attempting to hang a string of decorative jewels exactly where Jimin wanted.

Or, at least, close enough.

“I can’t go any more left!” Jungkook snapped, gripping the ladder with one hand and holding the jewels with the other. “If you want it so precise, why don’t you climb up here and do it yourself?”

“I’m busy!” Jimin shot back, crossing his arms as if he were personally burdened by the weight of this entire production. “I have a million things to oversee, and you’re up there messing around!”

Jungkook let out an aggravated sigh and simply hung the jewels where he stood, ignoring Jimin’s frantic gesturing.

Jimin flailed. “That is not where I told you to—”

“Too bad! I’m getting down.” Jungkook climbed down the ladder, dropping to the floor with ease. “If you care that much, do it yourself.”

Jimin threw his arms in the air. “I swear—”

“If you two are going to fight, at least take it to the living room.” Jin’s voice interrupted, smooth and composed as ever. He strolled into the ballroom with a book in one hand, scribbling notes with the other. “I don’t need you breaking another chandelier.”

“He’s ruining my vision.” Jimin huffed. Jungkook leaning against the ladder, annoyance all over his face.

Jin barely looked up. “Isn’t there an actual decorator running around here somewhere? I thought you hired someone?”

Jimin scoffed. “I did… But Jungkook’s here, so why not make him useful?”

Jin chuckled, thoroughly entertained, while Jungkook remained unimpressed. He had come here to talk to Jin about something else entirely, yet somehow, he had been roped into helping Jimin with decorations. The entire house was alive with movement—hired help rushing around, carefully placing extravagant decorations that now stretched through every corridor.

“I would’ve rather helped with literally anything else.” Jungkook muttered, stepping beside Jimin and bumping his shoulder.

Jimin huffed, shoving him back just slightly. “Well, too bad, because I needed you.”

Jin finally took a good look around the ballroom, his sharp eyes scanning the shimmering spectacle before him. It was hard to surprise Jin, but even he seemed impressed. “Damn, Jimin. You’ve seriously outdone yourself.”

Jungkook had to admit—the room was stunning. Sparkles in every corner, a perfect blend of opulence and elegance. Everything dripped with wealth, which, knowing Jimin, was always the plan. You were going to eat it up.

“Three hundred-plus of these gatherings, and you still manage to come up with new ideas.” Jungkook teased.

Jimin shot him a smug glance. “I’ve only gotten better at it over the years. Trust me, I’ve got plenty more party ideas left in me.”

Jungkook smirked. “Great. You can plan any party I ever throw.”

Jimin’s eyes lit up. “Promise?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Yes. Not that that’ll happen anytime soon.”

Jin, who had been silently observing, suddenly looked intrigued. “Oh? That sounded like a hint at something.”

Jungkook frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. “A hint at what?”

“Oh, please.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “We’re all counting down the days until you and Y/N finally get hitched.”

Getting married to a vampire was a little different. A vampire marrying another vampire was more about declaring a companion. Some vampires do have the traditional ceremony but it wasn’t like the celebration that a human marriage was because vampires who wed other vampires is more of a casual affair. “Getting Married” was usually a term for vampires with human partners.

Jungkook choked on his own breath, “We aren’t getting married.”

“Why not, it’s been years. I figured it would have happened after you told her about us. You basically kiss the ground she walks on anyways.” Jimin smirks, trying to poke fun but a tone of seriousness was behind the remark.

“You’ve been together for five years now and you haven’t asked?” Jin asked, he couldn’t help himself. He too was curious when the two of you would be getting married.

“We haven’t talked about it.” Jungkook admitted, quietly. Almost looking like a kicked puppy or that he was going to get in trouble.

Jin and Jimin both pause for a moment, Jin raises a brow to Jungkook. “Seriously?”

Jungkook shakes his head. It actually never really came up, Jungkook was actually quite nervous to broach the topic. It was very serious and it’s not that he hadn’t thought about it, in fact he did. Just not in the way everyone thinks he would be thinking about it. He was more waiting for you to bring it up.

Jimin suddenly grabbed Jungkook by the ear, dragging him down to his level. “I cannot believe you haven’t talked about it. How could you not?”

“Ow—Jimin!” Jungkook swatted him away, freeing himself from his grip. He rubbed his ear with a glare. “I have thought about it, but it’s not that simple! We’ve talked about, like… regular marriage, but not about this.”

Jin tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “What’s the big deal? It’s completely normal. Happens all the time.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. “Because I have no idea if that’s what she even wants.”

Jimin sighed dramatically before smacking Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems like something you should talk about!”

Jungkook shot him a look, but Jimin just grinned. Ever since you had come into their lives, Jimin had immediately taken to you—he adored you. And whenever Jungkook did anything that seemed remotely questionable, Jimin was always the first to go to bat for you.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The weight of their words settled uncomfortably in his chest. This wasn’t just a marriage proposal. This was forever. Asking you to marry him wasn’t just about rings and vows—it meant asking you to give up your humanity.

To turn. To be like him.

The thought alone sent a storm of memories crashing through Jungkook’s mind, memories laced with pain, fear, and the irreversible consequences of a choice that could never be undone. He had buried them deep, locked them away where they couldn’t touch him. But now, under the scrutiny of his closest friends, the weight of it all pressed down on his chest like a boulder.

“The time isn’t right.” He muttered, voice tight.

Jimin stopped mid-step, turned on his heel, and without a second thought, kicked Jungkook square in the ass.

Jungkook stumbled forward, catching himself before he could completely lose balance. His glare shot daggers. “Hey!”

Jimin didn’t even flinch. “You deserved that.”

“I’m with him on that one.” Jin chimed in, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Right time? What kind of answer is that? You love her. I don’t even need to invade your thoughts to know that.”

A sly grin spread across Jimin’s face. I am invading your thoughts, his voice echoed smugly in Jungkook’s head. “And I know that’s a bullshit answer.”

Jungkook tensed, jaw clenching as he focused for a split second and then shut Jimin out of his mind. The vampire in front of him blinked, looking mildly offended before pouting.

Jungkook’s voice came out flat. “Come on. Is it really that hard to guess why I’m hesitant?”

Jin and Jimin exchanged glances before answering in unison. “Yes.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

The air in the room shifted. He glanced around at the staff still buzzing through the ballroom, adjusting final decorations, moving chairs into perfect alignment. Not here. Not where curious ears might overhear things that didn’t concern them.

So instead, he let his thoughts slip past the surface and invaded theirs.

A beat of silence.

Jin and Jimin went still as the realization settled in, Jungkook’s memories bleeding into their awareness like ink spilled across a pristine surface. Their postures changed and Jin’s amusement faded into something serious, Jimin’s cocky demeanor softened.

Jungkook. Jin projected, his mind brushing against his friend’s like a whisper in the dark. There’s such a slim chance of that happening.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the polished floor beneath him. You can’t promise that. You remember how bad it got.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Jin’s face.

Jimin cut in, his mind pressing against theirs like a sharp rod. That was a special case. This is different.

Jungkook shook his head, tension crawling up his spine. None of us know that. It would be my blood this time. It could have the same effect… or worse.

Jimin stepped forward, placing both hands firmly on Jungkook’s shoulders, his touch grounding, his presence warm despite the centuries he had spent as something cold. His voice was softer now, even in Jungkook’s head. Alright… I feel bad for giving you a hard time. But, Jungkook, everything is fine now. This could be something beautiful.

Jungkook swallowed thickly, flexing his fingers, trying to shake out the unease tightening in his chest.

Every time he let himself think about turning you, the same anxiety gripped him like a vice.

Jungkook's mind brushed past there's one more time, Or it could all be for nothing.

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It had been a few days since that conversation.

Jungkook had done everything in his power to shove the topic out of his mind, burying it beneath the routine of everyday life. He convinced himself there was no need to bring it up, not until you did first. It had to be something you wanted, so he saw no need for him to have that conversation until you wanted too.

And Jungkook—true to his word—never invaded your thoughts. Never once slipped into your mind the way he so easily did with the others.

But right now? God, how he wished he could.

Because as he sat on the edge of the tub, watching you flit between the closet and bathroom, he had no idea what you thought about any of it.

It was New Year’s Eve.

The scent of your perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of soap and fabric softener from your clothes. You were wearing nothing fancy yet, just sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Your hair half-done, your makeup barely started because you kept getting distracted. One minute you were digging through your jewelry, the next you were redoing your eyebrows, and now you were standing in front of the mirror, testing two different pairs of earrings.

Jungkook hadn’t even started putting himself together. He sat there, in slacks and a button-up with the top few buttons left open. But he wasn’t thinking about the party.

He was thinking about you.

And apparently, he was staring too hard because you turned toward him, arching a brow.

“What’s going on inside there?” You took a step closer and poked his forehead, snapping him from his daze.

Jungkook blinked, tilting his head up at you with an easy smile. “I’m thinking about you.”

Your face lit up, playful and teasing. “Oh yeah? What about me?” Turning back to the mirror to continue what you were doing.

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you through the mirror. “How much I love you.”

Your expression twisted into disgust. “Gross.”

Jungkook snorted, shaking his head as he stood up and closed the space between you. “You’re gross.”

Before you could retort, he draped himself over you, resting his chin on your shoulder. Watching as you meticulously filled in your brows. You let out a small huff of concentration, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to finally get them right.

Jungkook’s hands found your waist, wrapping around you with ease, pulling you flush against him.

“Jungkook.” You warned as you reached for your mascara. Unable to reach it as Jungkook pulls you a step back. You hand pathetically waving in the air for it. He started to sway you side to side, his grip tightening just enough to throw you off balance. “Jungkook.”

“We can be a little late.” He murmured against your neck, pressing a slow kiss to the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

You exhaled sharply. “No, no, no. You do this every time.” Laughing, you pried his arms off of you and spun around, poking him in the chest. “I don’t want to miss anything! I like these parties, you know.”

Jungkook just grinned, all mischievous and smug, before leaning down and stealing a quick kiss from your lips. “You always fall for it, though.”

You turned back to the mirror, rolling your eyes as you reached for your brush. “Yeah, like a sucker! Not this time.”

Jungkook stepped in close again, this time pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hands landed on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing slow circles as he watched you apply your mascara with careful precision.

“You’re just so cute.” He hummed, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. “I can’t help it.”

“How about you finish getting ready or something?” You quipped, flicking your gaze to him through the mirror. Waving your hand to shew him away.

You knew what he was trying to do. You also knew exactly what would happen if you gave in; your makeup smudged, your hair ruined, a twenty-minute delay at best. This year you were determined to get there at a reasonable time.

“Fine. We both know it’s going to take me like five seconds to get ready though.” Jungkook strolls away from you, you could hear some frantic shuffling in the closet, before Jungkook appears seconds later.

Dark green, nearly black, pinstripe three-piece suit hugged his frame perfectly, the crispness of his dress shirt stark against his inky tattoos. His hair somehow effortlessly tousled yet perfectly styled, made it seem as if he’d walked straight out of a magazine spread.

Jungkook threw his arms out with a smug grin. “See? All done.”

“Show off.” You pout, as you continue what you’re doing.

Jungkook just chuckled, sauntering over and perching himself back down on the edge of the tub, legs spread, shoulders relaxed—taunting. He didn’t say anything, but the amusement in his eyes told you everything. Suddenly his voice invades and echoing through your mind.

Am I distracting you yet?

You pointedly ignored him.

Though, you could still feel him watching you, and if you let yourself think about it too much, you knew you’d never finish getting ready. Because deep down, you knew he’d rather spend the night tangled up with you, alone, than go to this party at all.

After a little while, you finally finished your makeup and got dressed emerging in a similarly colored dark green silk gown that was beaded intricately with some beads that dangle off the gown like droplets. With some movement of the dress you sparkled under the light. An off the shoulder classic, very old hollywood.

As you stepped out, Jungkook’s head snapped up.

His gaze slowly dragged over you, taking in every detail, his lips parting slightly before he let out a low whistle.

You grinned, twirling slightly to show off the full effect.

Jungkook stood again and crossed the space between you in a few strides. He leaned back against the bathroom sink, looking you up and down with something just shy of awe.

“Hey you got something right here.”

You look at him confused, then back in the mirror, “What? Where?” You frantically look over your face.

He reached out, with his pointer finger and thumb, tilting your chin toward him. “Hmm… right here.”

Before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. You let out a soft laugh, narrowing your eyes at him. “Wow.”

Jungkook merely shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh—wait. One more.”

Before you could question him, he leaned in again, this time pressing an equally slow kiss to your other cheek.

“Had to get that one.” He murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “Or the whole outfit would’ve been ruined.”

“Oh I’m sure.” You nod, your eyes racking over him now. A familiar glow filling your whole chest. Jungkook took your hand in his. Pulling you out of the bathroom.

“Come on, sucker, we’ve got a party to go to.”

“Awe come on. You’re the one who said we could be late.” You tease with a small laugh falling off your lips.

The two of you wasted no more time leaving, knowing full well that if you lingered any longer, you wouldn’t be stepping foot outside the apartment for days.

Jin’s manor was a short drive out of the city, nestled beyond the reach of streetlights and skyscrapers, surrounded by acres of untouched wilderness. The grand estate stood like a relic of another time—imposing yet elegant, its dark stone exterior bathed in the silver glow of the moon.

Despite its remote location, the manor was alive with energy. As Jungkook pulled up the winding driveway, you could already hear the faint hum of music drifting from within, an undertone to the laughter and clinking of glasses.

Jin’s home was more than just a lavish estate; it was the heart of their coven, a sanctuary that housed centuries of history. Ancient relics, preserved documents, and books bound in timeworn leather lined the vast library that stretched across one wings of the house. Jin had graciously allowed you to explore it before, though even after countless hours buried in those tomes, you had barely made a dent in its secrets. Centuries of vampire lore lived here, and it was precisely that allure that had made Jimin so adamant about hosting the party at the manor this year.

When you and Jungkook arrived, the massive double doors were already open, held by two eerily still gentlemen dressed in midnight-black suits. Their expressions were unreadable, their gazes sharp but unmoving.

You barely spared them a glance before stepping inside, though a part of you wondered—were they vampires? Or just illusions, elegant puppets crafted by Jimin’s magic? It wouldn’t be the first time he had conjured something like this for dramatic effect.

The moment you crossed the threshold, you were swallowed by opulence.

The vast entrance hall was bathed in a dazzling glow, every inch of the ceiling and walls adorned with sparkling gemstones, strung together like constellations. The light from the grand chandelier refracted off the stones, casting glittering reflections across the marble floors, creating an illusion of stardust swirling through the air.

It was breathtaking.

The energy in the room was magnetic—guests, both vampire and human, dressed in the finest silks and velvets, mingled effortlessly. Laughter and music wove through the air like silk threads, wrapping around you as you took it all in.

You leaned into Jungkook, who had an iron glad grip on your waste since entering the house. “Remind me to tell Jimin there could have been more glitter.”

Jungkook laughed, “I know he really over did it this time.”

“No!” You wave your hand dismissing him, “It's fantastic this is stuff you really only read about.”

And it was.

The sheer extravagance of the event was unlike anything you had ever seen. The caterers, gliding through the crowd, were dressed almost as exquisitely as the guests themselves, adorned in dark silks with golden accents, carrying trays of crystal glasses filled with deep, crimson liquid. Blood. Some trays held what you assumed was champagne, meant for the few humans—like yourself—who had been granted entry to this ethereal gathering.

The walls shimmered with illusions, flickering images of dazzling courtiers and celestial phenomena. The ceiling above transformed into a starry sky that seemed almost real, galaxies swirling and constellations twinkling in slow, mesmerizing motion.

Jungkook dragged you along as you basked in every intricate detail, his hand firm yet patient as he guided you toward the grand staircase that led up to the main ballroom.

At the foot of the stairs, Jin and Jimin stood poised like royalty, greeting each guest as they arrived. Jin was immaculate in a deep burgundy ensemble that complimented his yellow eyes, exuding effortless authority, while Jimin—never one to be outshined—was a vision in icy silver, his entire look designed to catch the light and demand attention. Jimin had also bleached his hair back to blonde to seemingly match his outfit. All making his red eyes shine brighter.

Guests arrived behind you in a steady stream, some carrying elegantly wrapped gifts, others presenting cases of unknown offerings—rare wines, expensive liquors, or perhaps something even more elusive.

“Oh a vision in green.”

Jimin’s voice was warm and teasing as he extended a hand toward you, taking yours with effortless grace and placing a chaste kiss to the back of it. His lips curled into a knowing smile as he straightened, eyes flickering with mischief.

“Jimin, this is truly something else.” Your gaze swept across the dazzling room once more, still in awe of how something so grand, so utterly enchanting, could exist completely hidden from the rest of the world.

“You flatter me.” He hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Jungkook helped a lot in getting some of these decorations, so he deserves some credit.”

Jimin shot a wink in Jungkook’s direction, though you caught the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips—no doubt remembering the near disaster that had almost cost them an entire ballroom and possibly Jungkook’s head in the process.

“Well, I can’t wait to see what else you have planned for the night.” You bounced on your heels, excitement thrumming through you.

Jimin, ever the opportunist, wasted no time looping his arm through yours, effectively pulling you closer. He leaned slightly around you, peering at Jungkook, who was momentarily engaged in quiet conversation with Jin.

“Can I steal her away?”

Jungkook’s brows lifted, gaze flicking between the two of you with mild suspicion. “Already? We haven’t even gotten a drink.”

“I promise to bring her back before midnight!” Jimin didn’t even wait for a response before whisking you away, your shoes clicking against the marble steps as you struggled to match his pace.

You barely managed to wave at Jungkook, who remained at the foot of the stairs, watching you go with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement. But the moment your eyes met, his softened, comforted by the unfiltered excitement on your face.

Jimin led you straight into the ballroom—an even grander spectacle than the entrance hall.

A massive Phantom of the Opera-style chandelier hung from the center of the vaulted ceiling, illuminated by shifting technicolor light that cast mesmerizing reflections onto the polished floor. Rhinestone streamers draped across the ceiling like cascading waterfalls, shimmering under the glow. The same illusionary night sky from the main hall continued here, except now, the constellations moved, twinkling and rearranging themselves in intricate patterns, like a cosmic dance only the stars understood.

The music was rich and full-bodied, played live by a band on a raised stage at the far end of the room. Couples twirled on the dance floor in elegant, sweeping motions, lost in the rhythm of the night. Along the walls, guests gathered in small clusters, glasses in hand, some already deep into their drinks, their laughter and whispered conversations filling the space like a carefully orchestrated melody.

“Monique! I got her!” Jimin called out suddenly, his voice cutting through the lively chatter.

A woman with cascading dark curls turned at the sound of his voice, her deep purple gown clinging to her frame as she pivoted effortlessly. The backless design of her dress only added to her commanding presence, and as she lifted a delicate crystal glass to her lips, the deep red stain left behind told you exactly what she’d been drinking. Her hair curly and draped around her in effortless elegance. Orange eyes shining under the lights.

Monique.

She was one of Jin’s closest confidantes and Yoongi’s wife—212 years old, sharp as a dagger, and the resident doctor who could mend almost any injury, supernatural or otherwise. She was a force of nature in her own right. You could only imagine what Yoongi was like if she was like this, you had never had the pleasure of meeting him. Just heard stories.

At the sight of you, her face lit up. “Darling!” she cheered, her voice smooth as silk yet edged with a teasing warmth.

She closed the distance between you in an instant, placing affectionate kisses on both of your cheeks before pulling back to admire you fully.

“My God, you look gorgeous.” You gave her a once-over in return, a slow grin tugging at your lips.

“Right?” She lifted her arms and gave a twirl, letting the deep purple silk of her gown fan out elegantly before settling back into place. “Always ready to impress.”

“And I am.” Without hesitation, you linked your arm through hers, Jimin still holding onto your other side, the three of you now moving as an exclusive little trio through the glittering expanse of the ballroom. The energy in the room crackled—laughter, conversation, the clink of glasses, and the distant hum of the live band blending seamlessly together.

“So, what have I missed so far?” You asked, glancing between them.

Monique took a slow sip from her glass, the deep red liquid staining her lips like crushed roses. When she pulled back, her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Nothing at all, darling. The party has just begun.”

There was something reassuring in her tone, but you didn’t miss the way her grip on you remained firm. Protective.

These gatherings were grand, extravagant, and, by all means, safe—but that never stopped the occasional stray vampire from giving in to temptation. You were painfully, unmistakably human, and your scent had already caught the attention of several guests. Their gazes lingered just a second too long, their smiles just a bit too sharp. Monique, ever perceptive, had already positioned herself between you and a few of the more curious onlookers, a subtle yet deliberate message—this one is not yours to touch.

“With you here, my dear, I can actually get things started.” Jimin mused, flashing you a grin before gracefully slipping out of your grasp.

Your eyes followed him as he moved through the ballroom like a phantom, effortless and commanding. Without a single spoken request, guests instinctively parted for him, creating space at the center of the grand hall. The shift was immediate, the energy in the room tightening like a drawn bowstring. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, and then, as if bewitched, the music began to die down.

Jimin turned on his heel, his expression slipping from playful to regal in an instant. When he spoke, his voice carried through the room, smooth as silk yet impossible to ignore.

“Undead and undesired.” He began, the corners of his lips curling mischievously. “Welcome to the greatest night of your lives.”

A round of applause echoed through the hall, accompanied by knowing laughter from those familiar with his theatrics. He soaked in the attention, allowing just the right amount of dramatic pause before continuing.

“I am your glorious host for this evening.” He declared, his arms spreading wide as if embracing the entire room. “You’ve heard me say it all before the universe made earth, then man, and then the vampire.” A rounding sound of hisses left everyone in the room, a large display of teeth and intimidation. “And we have many great things in store for you tonight—stories that will haunt your dreams, performances that will leave you breathless, and blood that will keep you satisfied until the end of time… or at least until my next party.”

More laughter, the atmosphere growing lighter, though the air remained charged with anticipation.

“Please, enjoy yourselves.” Jimin’s gaze flickered over the crowd, his smirk deepening. “Indulge as much as you wish. Tonight, we feast, we dance, and we are one with the night.”

With a spin and swish of his finger, the illusion that was once on the ceiling dripped down to the floor. Making it appear as if instead of walking on marble everyone was walking on the night sky. The illusion also seemed to envelope Jimin and his hair turned black and his suit went from silver to a midnight blue. The chandelier above shimmered, the illusionary constellations shifting in a dazzling display. The band struck up a new tune, rich and decadent, and just like that, the night was set into motion once more.

Monique exhaled beside you, shaking her head with a fond chuckle. “That boy was born to put on a show.”

“He does it rather well if I do say so.” You say, grabbing a champagne off of a tray that passes by you. Taking a sip, and of course Jimin had gotten a very nice quality champagne for this affair. You would probably be responsible for drinking two of the bottles.

“Where’s your boy?” Monique glances around the room seeing if she can spot Jungkook herself.

“Jimin dragged me away before he could follow. He’ll find us.” You said, taking another sip.

The music in the air swelled as a performance took center stage, dancers twirling in perfect synchrony, their movements almost hypnotic. The glittering lights overhead cast shifting patterns across the floor, and Jimin had once again disappeared, likely off to greet more guests.

“I have no doubt he’ll find us soon. You two start to implode when away from each other too long.” She teased, squeezing your arm.

“That may be a little true.” You giggle, sipping your champagne.

“It’s sweet. You’re really great for him. I’ve always thought that.” She hums, which was true. She has told you many times over the years how great she thinks the two of you are. She was the most encouraging of the relationship in the beginning before Jungook told everyone he was dating a human.

“What about you?” You asked, tilting your head curiously. “Where is this mysterious Yoongi I’ve heard about for years?”

You’d expected a flippant response, maybe even an exasperated sigh, but instead, a flicker of something serious crossed Monique’s face. It was so quick, you almost missed it but not quite. She schooled her features almost instantly, her smirk returning as she glanced behind you.

“Speaking of your lovesick puppy.” She raises her glass to Jungkook who was coming in your direction.

You turn to look at him, a smile on his face. “Five seconds in this place, and they steal you from me.” He said, immediately reaching for your free hand.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I think they like me better than you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I think you’re right.” Then, glancing toward Monique, he added, “Hey, Mon.”

“Jungkook.” She tipped her glass in his direction. “Happy New Year. Get yourself a drink.” Without waiting for a response, she snagged a goblet off another passing tray and handed it to him.

He accepted it with a nod. “Happy New Year. Planning to steal her from me again?” He teased, resting his head lightly against yours.

“No I’ll let you have her back… for now.” Monique’s smile remained in place, but something in her tone shifted slightly. You caught it again, that same momentary change in her expression. And then, just like that, she was stepping away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice.

“Where do you want to start?” Jungkook leaned in close to your ear. “Dancing, gambling, making out in the bathroom. I like the last one but that’s me.”

You smile, hitting him in the chest, “We need at least two more drinks before we can do that.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” He clinks his glass against yours, “Guess I need to start.”

You stop him before he takes a sip, “Hold on, one more kiss before you have iron mouth the rest of the mouth.”

He smiles, leaning in and giving you a lingering kiss. Wanting more but not really wanting to stick his tongue down your throat in front of all these people.

With that, the night raged on, a whirlwind of movement and sound. You and Jungkook drifted from room to room, immersed in stories that spanned centuries. Some vampires were impossibly old, their gazes heavy with history, while others were younger, still burning with the reckless energy of newfound immortality. There were dazzling performances—some manipulating fire with a flick of their fingers, others bending shadows into eerie, shifting forms. Illusions warped reality before your eyes, grand halls transforming in an instant, blurring the line between what was real and what was merely a trick of power.

The night reached its peak with a fencing match and sleek steel flashing under candlelight, footwork so precise it looked more like choreography than combat. The duelists struck with deadly accuracy, piercing and slashing in ways that would have been fatal to any human. But here, wounds were shrugged off, blades pulled from chests without so much as a grimace before the fight resumed. Laughter and applause rippled through the crowd, the energy of the gathering growing wilder as midnight loomed. Blood flowed freely, whether in ornate goblets or from the eager mouths of those who had abandoned restraint.

Jungkook and you got separated at some point. You had found Rehna amongst the chaos though.

You both were now in a drawing room which was hosting the outfit competition. Waiting for the results to be read allowed. Rehna had her hands clamped tight around yours, almost painfully but you knew she was excited. Hoseok was the hosting vampire for this year’s competition.

“Second place goes too,” He opened up the small envelope, “The vampire Rehna.”

You let go of her hand and start clapping yours and join in cheers from other vampires as she walks on stage to accept her award. She was happy but you could tell she was a little bitter about not getting first. She rejoins you as the winner gets their prize.

“Hey that was a tough call, I mean that girl who got first literally had made her dress in the 18th century… you can’t beat that.” You try to comfort her, but she picks herself up quickly.

“Starting tomorrow we are planning my outfit for next year. That first place is mine.” She nods, gripping onto her small trophy so tight that it seemed to bend underneath her grip.

“Hey, the top three get to take home some really nice bottles of blood. Why don’t we go pick yours out?” You say pulling her past other guests to leave the drawing room.

You both make your way back into the heart of the house where you pass some tall French doors that lead to a balcony area. Some vampires were smoking and other vampires leaning casually and others in deep discussion. You almost think nothing of it before you catch a glimpse of Monique standing outside alone. It makes you stop in your tracks. Rehna noticing your pause.

“You alright?” She raises an eyebrow to you, trying to see what you see.

You wave for her to continue on, “You go ahead. I’ll find you later.”

She wants to pry but nods and continues as you turn to head out onto the balcony. The view of the estate just looked over the woods that spanned one side of the house. You could see the stars pretty clearly out here and it would be a lovely spot to sit and think. You understand why Monique may be finding solace here. You couldn’t help if you said something wrong to her earlier. She usually would be enjoying the festivities but was here… alone. Having that same look on her face that you saw earlier.

The cold air bites against your skin, sharp and unwelcome, but you push past the discomfort and step closer to Monique. The moonlight catches in her dark eyes, and there’s something distant in her expression, a weight you can’t quite name.

"Care for some company?" You offer, your voice light despite the strange tension in the air.

She turns toward you with a soft, practiced smile. "Oh, darling. Having a good night?"

"So far, yes," You admit, swaying slightly as warmth buzzes through your limbs. "I’m a little tipsy, to be honest." You giggle, the edges of your amusement blurring under the influence, and Monique’s smile lingers, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Are you alright? You don’t seem as festive as you usually are at these things." You press, watching her closely.

She hums, a quiet acknowledgment, then exhales slowly. "I’m alright. Still having a good time, I promise. Just… some old memories getting kicked up."

"Was it something I said earlier? I’m sorry if I—"

She cuts you off with a small shake of her head. "No, not at all. I already knew I was going to feel this way tonight. It has nothing to do with you."

You study her, unconvinced. "Well, then what is it? I’m pretty good at listening. Even if I don’t always understand all the vampire stuff." You shrug, trying to offer levity.

A flicker of hesitation crosses her face, but then she sighs, her gaze flicking away. "It’s… Yoongi."

Your head tilts slightly. "The famous and elusive husband?"

The name lingers in the air between you. You’ve heard plenty about Yoongi. Whispers of a sharp mind, a man who seemed to exist only in the stories others told. You’d assumed he was simply away, a researcher, a traveler always chasing something beyond your reach. Whenever the subject arose, the conversation had a way of dissolving into something else, slipping through your fingers before you could grasp any real details. The way everyone spoke about him made it feel like he was still here.

Just hidden, just unseen.

"Yes…" Monique’s voice is quieter now, careful. "Has Jungkook talked about him much?"

"Here and there.” You admit. "The subject always seems to get dropped pretty quickly, though. I’ve heard plenty of stories from everyone else. I’ve always wanted to meet him, but it feels like… like he’s never around."

A pause. "Makes sense.” She murmurs, gaze flickering as if she’s choosing her words with precision. "Well, they were very close… Are close. Come with me."

She nods her head back inside and she takes your hand before you can ask anything else, fingers cool and firm as she pulls you through the party.

She grabs two more glasses which you assume is for herself. She leads you down two flights of stairs, away from the pulse of the party, the sounds fading into a distant echo. The air grows cooler, the flickering light from the sconces casting elongated shadows on the stone walls. You recognize this path and its one that leads to the cellars, a place you’ve rarely ventured. Few people come down here during these gatherings. It feels… separate, untouched by the revelry above.

“This feels like I'm being set up to be sacrificed or something.” You joke, trying to lighten the eerie atmosphere.

Monique lets out a laugh, her voice rich and amused. “Weird place to sacrifice you, considering there are over two hundred vampires upstairs.”

“True.” You admit, though the further she leads you, the less sure you are about anything. The air shifts, turning cooler, denser. The house above is lavish, but down here, it feels ancient. The stone walls, though well-lit, seem to close in the deeper you go.

There’s a shift in Monique’s expression, something amused yet knowing. “Oh, also, your boyfriend is trying to find you. He’s calling out.”

You groan. “How bad?”

“Pretty drunk.”

“Oh no.” You sigh, rubbing your temple. “He probably drank that mulled blood stuff. He waits all year for it.”

Monique smirks. “He’s going to be a handful when you get back.”

Great. You were already preparing for a very clingy, very intoxicated Jungkook draping himself over you the moment you surfaced from… whatever this was. But for now, Monique’s grip on your wrist is firm, leading you deeper into the underground corridors.

Eventually, you reach a narrow hallway lined with locked doors. Some have glass doors, showing carefully preserved artifacts displayed in temperature-controlled rooms and historical relics, no doubt, kept safe from time and age. Others bear plaques reading “Archives.” You recognize the setup from the old library you used to work at, except this was older, untouched by time in a way that made your stomach twist.

Monique stops at the last door. It’s heavier than the others, its dark wood carved with intricate patterns, a symbol you don’t recognize etched into the center. Without hesitation, she opens it.

The room inside is cold. Silent. The flickering lights barely reach the high ceilings, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The walls are lined with plaques, names etched in silver, and beneath them, urns carefully placed in recessed alcoves. It looks like a crypt, and the air feels thick with something unspoken.

But what catches your attention isn’t the room itself—it’s the statue at the very end.

It’s life-sized, eerily detailed. A man, frozen mid-motion, his body twisted as if recoiling from something unseen. His expression is caught between defiance and fear, lips slightly parted, eyes wide. He’s propped up with supports, standing atop a pedestal, carved in a military-style uniform.

You hesitate near the doorway, the weight of the space pressing down on you. Monique, however, steps forward, placing one of the glasses of blood on the pedestal’s edge with deliberate care. Then she turns to you, her gaze unreadable.

“Y/N,” She says softly, her voice carrying through the quiet, “meet Yoongi.”

You blink. Once. Twice.

Your gaze flicks between her and the statue, confusion settling into your bones. “What?”

She looks at the figure, then back at you. “This is Yoongi.” She lifts a hand toward the frozen man, as if introducing him formally.

You take a cautious step forward. “I’m confused.”

“There’s a long story here, but this…” Monique exhales, her expression tightening. “This is my husband. This is why you’ve never met him.”

A sharp chill slides down your spine. You glance at the room again, at the plaques, at the urns. Your stomach twists. “Did… D-Did he die?”

Monique shakes her head, her voice dropping to something nearly inaudible. “That would be easier.”

You step closer, standing beside her now. She’s staring at the statue like it might move, like it might suddenly exhale and return to her after years of silence. You don’t interrupt. After a long moment, she takes a deep breath. “How much has Jungkook told you about… vampire powers? Our history?”

You shake your head slightly. “Jungkook’s told me details here and there. I’ve asked a lot of questions, but honestly… it still feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface even after two years.”

Monique hums in acknowledgment. “It’s complicated.” She says, nodding. “As you know, we all have the speed, the strength, the mind reading… but beyond that, we each develop our own abilities. When a vampire has the power to manipulate something, and I mean truly change it, the only one who can undo that power is the one who cast it in the first place.”

A small pause echos between you. You watch as she seems to make a decision, deciding to tell a different story.

She continues, voice distant. “I met Yoongi at the beginning of the 19th century. My sister and I had just moved to England, escaping a war that wasn’t ours. My father had connections and secured us a comfortable life through distant relatives. It was exciting but suddenly, we had titles, dowries, invitations to every ball. For a young woman, it was everything society told me I should want.” She lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Yoongi was a Viscount at the time.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“They were having fun with it.” A small smirk touches her lips, as if recalling something fond. “Anyway, Yoongi was highly sought after that season. He had wealth, he was gorgeous, and he had absolutely no intention of marrying.”

You can’t help but smile. “So how did you get his attention?”

Monique’s smirk widens, her gaze flicking to the statue. “It’s a classic story. Boy meets girl. Girl spills wine on him in front of everyone.”

You wince. “Oh no.”

“It was mortifying.” Monique shakes her head at the memory, a soft, wistful laugh escaping her lips. “I spent days trying to make it right, sending notes, trying to find a way to replace his coat. Apologizing over and over, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He actually found it amusing how much care I placed in a simple dress shirt.”

She falls silent then, her eyes locked onto Yoongi’s frozen form, as if trapped in the past alongside him. The weight of her grief settles over the room like a thick fog, making the air heavy, pressing against your chest.

“So then what?” You ask gently, urging her on.

“He started coming around more often. We became fast friends, though he never officially courted me. It all just… fell into place. One day, I realized I couldn’t help how I felt. Except he beat me to it. Probably read my mind or something.” Shaking her head with pursed lips, “It was easy, natural… until he had to tell me about the vampire part.”

“How did he do it?”

“He just blurted it out.” She huffs a small laugh, the memory clearly amusing in hindsight. “He wasn’t dramatic about it, didn’t sugarcoat it, just said it. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t care if I knew. He was so sure I wouldn’t blink twice over it. And he was right. I didn’t.” She shrugs. “I had no idea before that. They were very good at keeping themselves hidden back then.”

You shift your weight slightly, glancing again at the statue, at the way Yoongi’s body is posed. “Then he asked you to marry him?”

Monique exhales a long breath, her fingers tightening around the glass she holds. “Yoongi was actually afraid to ask me to marry him. Vampires asking for a human’s hand in marriage is a big deal. You are asking this person to be with you for eternity. It meant Yoongi was asking to turn me, turn into a vampire. Now he had little hesitation about it, for a long time, but he was terrified of what it meant. Of taking something from me. My humanity, my chance at a ‘normal’ life. He worried about things like children, about whether I would resent the decision later.” She shakes her head. “But I never wanted children. I watched my mother have five boys and knew early on that that life wasn’t for me.”

“So what did you say when he finally asked?”

A soft, nostalgic smile curves her lips. “I told him there was nothing I wanted more. That the idea of forever with him didn’t scare me. That it excited me.” Her gaze flickers with warmth, but only for a moment before the sadness creeps back in. “He was so surprised by my willingness. But for me, it was the easiest decision in the world. That I would willingly die for him.”

Silence hangs between you for a beat before you press further. “So then… how… when did this happen?”

Monique’s expression shifts, her voice quieter now. “It happened during World War One. Humans weren’t the only ones at war. There was a war between vampires, too. A lot of vampire men were drafted into the human armies, fighting not just humans, but each other. And the women… we fought our own battles in the shadows, deep in the forests.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “No matter how powerful we think we are, war finds a way to break everyone.”

Your stomach knots at the implication.

“One night, Yoongi and Jin were on patrol for their unit when they were ambushed by a squad of enemy vampires. They had no idea what kind of abilities these vampires had, but they were outnumbered. Jin managed to take down two of them, but he got badly injured in the process. Yoongi, was trying to get Jin out, trying to protect him. And then…” She swallows hard, her eyes drifting back to the statue. “One of them petrified him.”

“Oh no.”

She nods. “Turned to stone instantly.” Her fingers clenched into fists. “Jungkook and Hoseok found Jin, barely alive, but by the time they got there, it was too late. The vampire who did this to him was gone. No trace. No way to track them.” She exhales sharply. “They brought Yoongi back like this… and he’s been this way ever since.”

A cold chill creeps up your spine as you stare at Yoongi’s statue. The idea that he isn’t dead but that he’s still in there, trapped, unable to move, unable to speak—makes your skin crawl.

“You haven’t found the vampire who did this? Even after all this time?” You whisper.

Monique’s jaw tightens, and when she speaks, her voice is edged with something far more dangerous than sadness.

“No.”

Her lips press together before she exhales sharply. “It’s possible they’re dead. But it doesn’t undo the effect.” Her voice wavers, frustration and grief laced together in a fragile thread. “It’s almost ironic. Yoongi spend most of his life dedicated to understanding vampires better. Yoongi spent centuries researching vampire abilities, collecting books, studying cases, trying to understand all the different powers we possess… and yet, even with all his research, we still don’t have an answer.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “So he’s just… like this. Until we find a way to undo it.”

Your throat tightens. “Mon… I’m so sorry.” A small tear escaping one of your eyes. The grief that escapes her overwhelming you.

She shakes her head. “No need to apologize.” She reaches over, wiping your tear away. “And no need for tears.”

“But—I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“It’s…” She hesitates. “It’s painful. I have to keep living in the hopes we find something… For the first few years, I wasn’t—I was just existing. A shell of myself, searching for answers, desperate for anything that could fix this. I hunted for that vampire for what felt like forever. We had leads, rumors about others with similar abilities, but they always led to dead ends.”

You swallow, glancing back at Yoongi’s unmoving figure. “You know… Can he hear us?”

Monique exhales slowly. “We don’t know. We all talk to him regardless, just in case. We tell him about the world, about what’s happening, about us. We try to keep him filled in… but honestly?” Her voice wavers. “A part of me hopes he can hear us. But another part of me hopes he can’t. That he hasn’t been sitting here, awake, for more than a hundred years, unable to move, unable to speak.”

Your eyes widen at the realization, he could be awake. “Oh my god. I hadn’t even thought about that.”

Monique’s eyes soften, but there’s an unbearable weight behind them. “Yeah… so today is hard. It’s supposed to be a celebration, but how do I celebrate without the person I want most? Sometimes it feels like he died. The grief comes and goes, like waves, crashing when I least expect it.”

“I don’t know… I’m sorry.” You murmur.

She meets your gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. “I hope we can find something.” She sighs, rolling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “But at least we live in a lasting age of peace now. Vampires have worked hard to bridge the gaps between us. We won’t have to fight like that again. We lost so many—so many were sacrificed.”

She pauses, then continues. “We’ve had vampires come from all over, trying to help. Some of them were Yoongi’s friends, people he helped in their time of need. But no matter how many have tried…” She gestures toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re still here.”

You hesitate, glancing around the dimly lit space. “Why is he down here? Why not up at the party, where people can pay their respects?”

Monique’s jaw tightens. “Because in the ‘90s, some drunk idiot broke off his left arm.”

Your eyes widen. “Shit.”

She nods, and now that you look closer, you can see the faint lines where the repair was made. Just below the shoulder.

“After that, we decided Yoongi couldn’t be displayed at the parties anymore. It was too dangerous. Too much risk.”

Your chest tightens at the thought. “That’s awful.”

She hums, staring at her glass before tipping it slightly in the direction of the other drink she brought down. “That’s why I bring this.” She says softly. “It’s for him. So he can still celebrate. I always come down here on this night. I spend the New Year with him.”

Your heart aches at the quiet devotion in her voice. “That’s… so sad.”

Monique shakes her head, offering you the ghost of a smile. “No sadness tonight. It’s a night of celebration.” She reaches out, squeezing your hand gently. “You should go back up. I’ll be okay. Now that you’ve finally met Yoongi.”

“Well it was lovely to meet you Yoongi.” You nod towards him looking back to her, “I don’t mind staying.”

“You have so much to celebrate.” She gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Go be with everyone. Celebrate into the night. It’s close to midnight, and I’ve kept you long enough.”

You open your mouth to protest, but at that moment—

Baby. Baby, where are you?

Jungkook’s voice echoes in your mind, petulant and needy. He sounds whiny, which means he’s definitely had a few too many drinks. If you don’t go find him, he’s liable to start running through the halls, searching for you like a lovesick idiot.

You sigh, amused. “I’ll come say goodbye before we leave.”

Monique nods, her expression warm but tired. “Okay.”

With one last glance at Yoongi’s frozen form, you turn and head back up to the party—leaving Monique to her vigil, her love for him unwavering even after a century of waiting.

With a heavy heart and a mind full of tangled thoughts, you ascend the stairs, leaving behind the weight of Monique and Yoongi’s story. Their tragedy lingers in your chest, an ache that refuses to settle. She’s been waiting, searching, for him, for a way to bring him back. The sorrow in her voice clings to you, and as much as you wish you could do something, anything, to help… you know there’s nothing.

The party is still in full swing as you step back into the throng of people. Laughter echoes through the grand halls, music thrums beneath your feet, and the faint scent of spilled champagne lingers in the air. You weave your way through the crowd, your mind distracted as you search for Jungkook.

He could be anywhere by now, lost in the sea of guests. You sigh, dodging a pair of unsteady dancers and taking note of the slight destruction left in the wake of too much drinking—Jimin is going to love that.

“Oh, Jungkook, where are you?” You murmur to yourself, scanning the faces around you.

If only you had some supernatural ability to read minds, to pull his thoughts from the noise and find him in an instant instead of aimlessly wandering.

You slip into a quieter hallway, peeking into rooms as you pass, hoping to spot him. Nothing. It’s almost comical—he’s likely looking for you too, both of you just barely missing each other in the chaos.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has been trapped for the past hour listening to Jimin’s annual rant about how he should have won a gold medal in the 1972 Winter Olympics. He tells the story every single year, growing more bitter with time. Jungkook, slouched on a couch with his head hanging over the back, has all but tuned him out, using what little cognitive function he has left to search for your mind instead.

It’s proving difficult.

He’s six—no, seven drinks in. His limbs feel heavy, his mind hazy.

His eyes are closed when he feels it, a soft press of lips against his forehead. His red eyes blink open, vision blurry before it sharpens, landing on you. You’re smiling down at him, hands braced on either side of his head, warmth radiating from your touch.

“My love.” You say and Jungkook hums. A drunken smile on his face. Unbeknownst to him you had left a lipstick march on his forehead. In his search for him, you took a pause to reapply it.

“You found me.” He sighs. You kiss hip lips, a little awkward since his head was upside down. Leaving another stain on his lips. Then another on both of his cheeks. Another on his nose. All leaving lipstick stains behind.

“Now you look perfect.” You laugh at your work, Jungkook still unaware of what you had done. You pull out your phone to take a picture. It would be a good one to show him later.

“I need to tell you a secret.” He says staring up at you while you stare at the picture.

“Yeah?” You look at him and he curls his finger gesturing for you to come closer. You lean your head close to his mouth.

“I’m a vampire.” He whispers. Then, with a chuckle, he giggles at himself.

You snort, pulling back to look at him properly. “Oh my god, I had no idea.”

He waves for you to come close again and you comply, “I also really want to rip that dress off with my teeth.”

“Hot, maybe another time.” You whisper to him. Standing back up straight. Jungkook hoists himself off of the couch. Walking past you with a smug grin on his face as he leaves the room.

Follow me. His voice calls back to you in your mind.

You trail after him as he just keeps on walking through the house, stumbling a little but mostly keeping himself up right. You stay close behind, he manages to swiftly grab another glass for himself and for you. He caught a quick glimpse of himself in a mirror and gave you a knowing look. You just shrug your shoulders like you had no idea what you had done.

Before he veers down another hallway, which was technically off limits to other party members. You knew this wing, this is where the library was. Which is exactly where Jungkook ducked into. Things that were old but could be safely kept out in the open for those to look at regularly were kept here. It was a beautiful collection that Jin had curated over the years. Some works you would never find in any parts of the world. It didn’t shield from the rest of the sounds of the party but it was much quieter. Only a lamp was left on so the light in here was dark.

“No Jin will actually kill us if he sees we brought drinks in here!” You protest staying a foot outside the door while Jungkook stands inside.

“He’ll never know, plus he likes you so he would never get mad at you.”

“Jungkook it’s almost midnight, we'll miss the countdown.”

“We can have our own.”

“But-“

“Come here.” He grabs your hand pulling you into the room anyways. Closing the door behind the both of you. “I just want one moment just with you.”

He sets the glasses down on one of the side tables. Taking your hand again. Pulling you into him. You don’t protest him letting yourself fall into his arms.

It was just a comfortable silence between the two of you for a moment. The hum of the music outside filled in the void as your mind was flooded. Your chest was so full and so warm because you just loved Jungkook so much. Your mind still wandered. Thinking about something like what happened to Yoongi and Monique… you couldn’t imagine. How would you even handle that kind of thing if it was you two. She’s been waiting for over a hundred years now.

They only got a small piece of forever together.

You felt every word she said about Yoongi because it’s all the same things you felt for Jungkook. You would go searching the world for something to fix him. To bring him back to you. You would do anything.

You would die for him.

Your thoughts are interrupted. The sounds of people outside begin to countdown from 30.

“So what do you want in the new year?” You ask him, your arms hugging tighter around Jungkook.

He thought for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, “Never hear Jimin’s Olympic story ever again. I lived it… I already know what happened.”

You laugh, “Be serious.”

20.

“Fine. I don’t need anything. I have everything I want already.”

“Everything? That’s a lot.”

“I know.”

15.

Jungkook leans close to your ear. “What about you? What do you want for the new year?”

“I think I want to have everything… I don’t have it quite yet.”

“What do you mean?”

10.

“I just…” The words caught in your throat because you had wanted it for much longer than you were willing to voice. You had thought about it since the day he told you but you weren’t sure if you were ready.

“What is it?”

“I want more than this Jungkook… I want forever.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want you. I want our life. I don’t think I was ready to talk about it before but I want it now…”

“Y/N.”

“I want to be like you... I want you to turn me into a vampire.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

a/n: woof this is a long one, I hope you enjoyed!! Let me know your thoughts plssssssss... I will try to have the next part out as soon as possible but enjoy this for now <3

𓆩♱𓆪 Next Chapter

Taglist!: @lilacstellar @london-dreamer71 @pitchblack0309 @dna-black-and-blue @uniquesuitcasegothcop @fancypeacepersona @whoisnanda04 @starlight-1010 @yooniepot @myjungkookthighs @inkedkoos @rrosiitas @spideyjimin @ahgasegotarmy116 @destenyofficial @taekrve @agustverse @jungkookswifeeeeeee @superstarfishsandwich @kooeuphoria @bdlyanne @candyshin00 @littlegirlmin @jimineepaboya @rklve @https-mei @littlegirlmin @m00njinnie @yoongisgirl69 @adoresjjk @dieforkoo @kookoo-kachoo @ukndtwme @livi101ful @mimi1097 @mrsjohnnysuh @heebear @xsyruhh @somehowukook

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lilmeowzsworld · 1 year ago

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i need some vampire yoongi fics, any recs???

#bts #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #vampire yoongi

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darkpuppysuit · 5 months ago

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Vampire Yoongi

I can't even find the post my next fic was inspired by (goddammit) but these photos?

Vampire Yoongi?

Oh my anfudjsjdhtwdudaahh!

(SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!)

So uh- anyway...

Yeah, that's gonna be uploaded tomorrow after my tattoo and hair appointments!

K love you bye!

#bts #bts army #bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi #vampire yoongi #vampire min yoongi #vampire au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #sombody sedate me #send help #i am not okay #currently dying

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spookyserenades · 5 months ago

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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!

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softieyn · 2 years ago

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💜💜💜

Of Storms And Vampires // Ch. 1

Pairings: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader x Vampire!Jungkook

Summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn't simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook's sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

Genre: fluff, angst

Word Count: 9.1k+

The wind howled outside with the voice of a thousand lost souls. You had read somewhere that the breeze and the sounds of the night were the dead singing. If that were true, tonight they were screaming.

The storm had hit in the afternoon in full force, getting only worse since then. In seconds, the first few droplets turned into arrows of water falling from the heavens. Dark clouds overtook the sky, wiping out the sun and bringing the night early. Lightning struck every few minutes followed by loud thunder that sounded too close for comfort. You had sensed the storm brewing a few days ago but only yesterday you had realized how strong it was going to be. It was like all the rage of the Gods had been released at once.

The rain splattered on the windowpane relentlessly, a constant murmuring in the background interrupted only by the thunder. You could cast a silencing spell but you needed to be aware of what was happening outside and the sounds were comforting in a way. It was the music of lonely nights and disasters.

You were curled up in the overstuffed armchair next to the fireplace, a book on kitchen magic leaning on your thighs. The fire flickered and danced, flaming tendrils reaching for above. It was a calm night for you, almost peaceful. You had been casting protections against the storm on your house, your garden, and the small farmhouse of your animals for days. There was nothing to worry about, you were more than safe. But your mind kept going to the town. It was the worst storm this part of the world had seen in decades.

You flipped the page to the recipe for an antipyretic potion and breathed in the smoky scent of burning firewood. Your eyes scanned over the ingredients of the potion and you considered how it could be improved to better fit your magic, without losing its essence. It was hard changing existing recipes and spells but when done right, it could be very rewarding.

You sensed the presence before you heard the thud. It was small and weak, pulsing in flashes. Something had hit your window but you had only seen a black blur before it disappeared. You closed the book and lowered your feet from the couch, listening for any more noises. None followed. The rain continued like before.

The aura of something—someone—, that hadn't been there before persisted. You had to see what it was, maybe it was an injured animal that needed your help. The forest would lead them to you sometimes, both animals and humans in need.

You wrapped your black cloak around yourself and raised the hood. It was woven with enchanted thread for protection and stitched with intentions of blending in with your surroundings. The protection applied to the weather as well, it wouldn't completely spare you from the heavy rain but it would be more like going out during a mild rainfall instead of getting drenched within seconds.

Outside, the world was dark and ominous. Trees lurched and bent under the force of the wind, its strength was enough to uproot some smaller and more frail ones. The rain bounced off your cloak and thunder boomed overhead. You shielded your lantern underneath your cloak and, with your boots sinking into the wet earth, moved carefully toward where you had heard the sound. At first, you didn't see it in the darkness but when your eyes adjusted, you noticed the outline of the crumbled figure underneath the window.

The creature was small and it was shivering, probably both by the cold and the fear of the storm. You approached slowly, trying to seem non-threatening. It was a small bat, one of its wings bent at a weird angle and the other hiding its face.

"Hello, little guy," you said, sending some of your energy to the bat to soothe it. The wind swept your voice away but you still tried. "I'm going to have to pick you up and take you inside. You can't stay out here in the storm."

With a short incantation, you enchanted the lantern to float in place and slid one hand underneath the bat's small form, covering it gently with your other hand. It struggled a little but settled soon. By touch, you understood two things. It wasn't a normal bat but, in your hands, you were holding a vampire. And it was a very young one.

"I'm going to take care of you," you promised, cradling the vampire close to your chest. "You don't have to be afraid."

You rushed back inside, careful not to jostle him. You unclasped your coat, took off your boots at the entrance, and carried the baby vampire into the living room, sitting down on the armchair near the fire. His small body was trembling and the fire would calm the cold leeching on his bones. You laid him on your thighs to take a quick look at his injuries. There were a couple you could see at first glance, one of his wings was broken and there was a shallow gash on his belly.

You touched his forehead with two fingers and transferred some more of your energy to him. The vampire flinched but when he felt life seeping into his veins, his eyes—which were larger than any other bat you had seen—widened, looking at you in wonder.

“Stay here,” you advised, laying him on the armchair as you got up. “I’ll be back with a few things to treat your injuries. Don’t move too much.”

You kept most of your potions and salves in the kitchen, they were in jars and tins of various sizes stored in your cabinets. Various herbs tied together with thick strings were hanging from the ceiling and potted plants lined the windowsills. The counters were cluttered with multiple ingredients for potions and spells, from the most common ones like dried daisies, mint, and sea glass to some rare—or mostly avoided—ones like bleeding nightshade, dragon hair, and heart crystals.

You opened the cabinet that contained most of your medicinal potions and a few salves. You skimmed over the labels, reciting their properties in your head and contemplating which ones would be better suited for a vampire. In the end, you grabbed a vial of dark green liquid and a small bottle, the inside of which was reflective like a mirror. The first one was to fight off the effects of the cold, it wasn’t easy for vampires to get sick but the vampire was young and he had probably spent too much time in the storm. The second one was to ease the pain and speed up healing and its effects could last for as long as twelve hours. Before returning to the living room, you grabbed a platinum tin containing a salve that would accelerate the process of the skin stitching together.

The baby vampire had obediently stayed where you had left him, his eyes were half-closed and he was still shaking. There was a small pang in your heart for him. Baby vampires weren’t supposed to be alone for more than a few hours, they needed the presence of their sire like humans needed air. But here he was, alone in the forest with a witch and his sire nowhere in sight.

“I’m back,” you said softly. The vampire opened his eyes a little and turned his head in your direction. His eyes were so bright, much brighter than any vampire you had ever met. “I need to take care of your injuries now. You need to drink these, they are going to help you heal.”

The vampire eyed the potions but, surprisingly, he didn’t put up a fight, opening his mouth.

“Good boy,” you said and if the vampire was in his human form, you were sure he would be blushing. As much as vampires could blush. You poured the green potion in his mouth first and when he swallowed, he made a face of disgust. “I know it doesn’t taste great but it’s one of the best potions for this.” He tilted his head and to distract him, you started explaining to him what the properties of each potion were.

You applied the salve on his wound with careful fingers, he whimpered but didn’t snap at you like you had expected. He was pretty docile for a young vampire, who could get violent away from their sire’s protection. Then, you made a small cast out of some cloth for his wing.

“By tomorrow night, you will be able to shift back. We can see how much your arm has been affected then. But I believe you will make a quick recovery,” you said and the bat let out a chirp. “Please, in the future, avoid going out before or during storms. Your bat form isn’t strong enough to withstand this kind of weather. You’re very lucky you hit my window.” He made a squeaking sound and lowered his head at your admonishment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Some of the most sensitive ingredients were kept in the refrigerator that was powered by magic. One of those ingredients, stored in a large jar, was human blood. It was one of the ingredients that was frowned upon but was necessary for your type of magic and a very powerful asset. You poured a good amount into a bowl and put the rest back in the fridge.

The scent of blood made the vampire’s head shoot up as soon as you walked into the living room. “Stay there, I’m bringing it to you.” The vampire made a few more chirping noises as you carried the bowl and set it in front of him. He looked at you and when you nodded, he dived head-first into the blood. “It isn’t fresh but it will have to do. I know that baby vampires need blood.”

He gulped down the blood hungrily and when the bowl was licked clean, he looked at you with his large eyes.

“That’s enough for now. I’ll give you more later,” you said, picking up the bowl. “Now, rest.”

Vampires stayed in nests with their sires while they were still young, so you tried to make a mock nest for the small bat. On the floor by the fireplace, you bunched up a fluffy blanket, placed two pillows on top, and laid the vampire inside. You thought you heard him sigh as he settled, making himself comfortable. After the events of the day and the two potions, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Near this side of the forest, there was only one small town from where he could have got lost. You tried to remember if there were any vampires that lived in the town but came up blank. You didn’t visit the town often and your interactions with its inhabitants were rare. Whatever you learned about them, you learned from Seokjin, who took it up to himself to fill you in on all the gossip he could remember. And he had a very strong memory.

You stayed in the living room for a while longer, picking up the magic book where you left off and throwing glances at the bat every few pages. He was sleeping soundlessly, shifting only when thunder struck somewhere nearby. Soon, you closed the book again and after adjusting the blanket around the vampire’s small form, you retired to your room for the night.

The next morning, you woke up to the sounds of the storm raging outside. The wind whipped the roof and the walls and the rain falling was enough to fill up a river. Outside the window of your bedroom, the world was being suffocated in gray. The sun had disappeared, hidden behind the endless expanse of dark clouds. The storm would last through the day and hopefully calm during the night. However, the signs showed that it wouldn’t be gone soon.

You dressed for the day and braided your hair to keep it out of your face. There were things you had to do, despite the storm outside. Most importantly, there was a baby vampire that needed your attention in the living room.

Said vampire was awake and lazying around in his makeshift nest. He blinked slowly at you before letting out a couple of chirps, shaking his not-injured wing in what you guessed was the bat equivalent to waving at you. You had to admit that he was adorable as he greeted you enthusiastically.

“Good morning. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” you asked and the bat nodded his head. He gestured to his belly with his wing and you were glad to see that the skin was already stitching itself together. “This looks good, you are healing quickly. By nightfall, it will only be a small scar and that will go away soon too. But you will still need to be careful, don’t go flying into a storm again.” He squeaked lowly and lowered his head, making you giggle. “Now, let me take a look at your wing.”

His wing was also healing nicely and, as you had predicted, he would be able to turn back into his human form, if he wanted to, by the end of the day. It would make communication much easier although you weren’t sure if you would prefer that over the cute bat. You had found over the years living alone in your cottage in the forest that you were better at interacting with animals than with people.

You let go of his wing and the vampire squeaked and pointed to his belly and then his mouth.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some blood?” you asked and he responded by pleased chirping. “Okay, I’ll bring some to you since you have been a good patient.”

You poured some blood for him in the same bowl as yesterday. The jar of human blood was enough to get you through more than a year of potions and spells but it could barely last for two days as the main food source of a vampire, especially a young one that needed feeding regularly. You hoped the storm would ease by tomorrow and you would be able to look for his sire. You would have to be on guard because sires were overprotective of their fledglings and if they believed you had been keeping them apart for no reason, it could get ugly.

You placed the bowl in front of the vampire, who chirped in thanks and started drinking messily. Blood stained the fur around his mouth and he looked almost angry at how good the blood tasted. For now, your priority was to take care of him, you would have to worry about his sire later.

While the vampire was drinking his blood, you bustled around the kitchen. You made a quick and simple breakfast for yourself, a cup of tea with ginseng for energy and bread with homemade strawberry jam. Like every morning, you lit up a fire in the hearth and filled your cauldron with water and a crystalline blue powder you had made for cleansing. Something was always brewing in a witch’s cauldron.

You were going to make a specialized potion for the little vampire to enhance his healing abilities. The effects of the one you had given him last night would have worn off and personalized potions were more effective. Opening and closing cupboards and drawers, you gathered a few of the ingredients you would use, consulting a recipe from a magic book focused on magical creatures.

After a few minutes, the cauldron was clean and ready for work. You measured the first few ingredients and put them in. They needed to boil a couple of hours on their own before you added a pinch of dried rosemary and red oyster mushrooms. Brewing potions was like performing a ritual, it wasn’t only about the ingredients and the quantities, it was about the timing, the intentions, and each action itself. You had to sense what the potion needed and how it needed it done. Some potions could take days to make and the more difficult ones could be ruined by a single wrong move or even a bad thought. It was a delicate process but you enjoyed it.

The rain persisted but you had to go outside to feed the animals and make sure that their protections were holding up. The storm must have scared them and your presence would calm them.

The vampire had closed his eyes again, the bowl in front of him empty. He opened one eye to look at you and as you picked up the bowl to return it to the kitchen, he bumped his head against your hand.

“Do you like petting?” you asked, stroking between his ears. He closed his eyes and wiggled happily at the attention. “You do, don’t you? You are really cute, such a cute bat.” He preened at the praise and you cooed. “I’ll go outside for a bit but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

The vampire chirped in answer although he didn’t seem happy to be deprived of petting. You threw on your cloak to protect yourself from the wild weather outside and made your way to the small farmhouse.

It was only a few meters away from the house, through a cobblestone path that at least saved your boots from sinking in the mud. The farmhouse had been there when Seokjin had first led you to this place but it had been in a much worse condition than the house. The roof had crumpled in and the walls would have followed soon, leaving nothing but a heap of decayed wood. The renovations lasted a couple of months, accomplished mostly by you, Seokjin, Jimin, and a few people from the town that Seokjin had called when he realized there were a few things that, magic or not, you simply couldn’t do.

The ground of the farmhouse was dry, evidence that your protection spells were still holding strong. The familiar sounds of the animals greeted you, the bleating and the clucking, the hooves against the ground, and the flapping of wings. There were ten chickens, six goats, and Daisy, your horse, who had got her name from her fondness of eating daisies. They all had their own fenced areas with enough space to roam and stretch their limbs—the fence of the chicken coop almost reached the ceiling because your chickens could somehow fly much higher than normal chickens could.

You visited all of the animals, petting them and replenishing their food. None of them liked the thunder and the wind howling but, luckily, they understood they were safe inside. They surrounded you and you spoke softly to them. You weren’t an animal witch but you were good with them. You had learned quickly and you had been surprised to find that animals enjoyed your company.

Last, you went to Daisy. You stroked her neck, fed her apples, and promised to take her on a long walk to the fields at the end of the forest and let her gallop for as long as she liked. Forests weren’t the most suitable places for horses but Daisy seemed to like it well enough as long as you took her to the fields from time to time.

Returning to the house, you found the vampire squirming and agitated. Apparently, he didn’t like staying still for such a long time, so you carried him with you to the kitchen. His eyes followed you while you worked on the potion so you started explaining to him what you were doing. You weren’t sure how much he understood or how much he knew about witchcraft but he was an attentive audience. He made sounds whenever you said something interesting and he stopped hopping around the counter whenever you told him to.

For lunch, you heated up some leftover tomato soup from the previous day and you fed the bat a plum. Once upon a time, there was a vampire you had been close with, or you had been getting there, and he had told you that plums were his favorite food to eat when he was in bat form. The little one on your table must be the same because he devoured it.

He kept you company for the rest of the day and at some point he somehow ended up clinging on your shoulder and refused to budge. He didn’t weigh much so you didn’t mind and you guessed he was missing his sire and needed some contact to stay grounded.

In the afternoon, the potion was ready. First, you poured the potion into the bat’s mouth like you had done the previous night and then filled his bowl with blood. Your work in the kitchen was done and you returned to the living room, settling in the armchair. The vampire curled up in your lap and you petted his head while you flipped through a random book from your stack on the floor. You had run out of space so your books were everywhere now. You should hire someone to make more shelves for you.

The vampire was getting drowsy so you left him in the armchair and you went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for yourself. It was part of your routine to have a cup of tea along with some baked goods in the afternoon. Living away from civilization, you had discovered the comfort of mundane moments and the importance of a nice routine.

You boiled water and looked through your jars of tea. They were your own varieties, you had mixed their ingredients with light enchantments to boost their benefits. Black tea was one of your favorites to drink in the afternoon so you chose one with maple and vanilla pieces, hazelnuts, nutmeg and honeybush. It was fitting for the weather. The sweet honey fragrance mingled with vanilla tickled your nose when you opened the jar. You filled the teapot with the hot water and added two tablespoons of tea to the infuser.

In the 4 minutes the tea required to brew, you cut a piece of the apple pie you had made yesterday and plated it. The aroma of the soft, spiced apples and the brown sugar drifted in the kitchen. A tiny bit of magic kept anything you baked as fresh as the day they were pulled out of the oven. Another thing you discovered while living in the forest was your love for baking. When you lived in the city, you had dabbled in baking, occasionally baking chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon rolls, but it wasn’t until you moved here that you truly fell in love with it.

You arranged everything in a tray, along with a smaller cup in case the vampire wanted to try, but you stopped short at the door to the living room. The tray almost slipped from your hands at the sight of a young man sitting where the little bat used to be. He looked young, with large eyes and messy dark hair that reached past his ears. A silver ring glinted on his bottom lip and more silver earrings adorned both of his ears. He was wearing all black and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo underneath the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Hi,” he said, sheepishly waving at you. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to.”

You had to get yourself together, you had known since the beginning that it wasn’t a regular bat you were treating but a vampire that would need to turn back into his other form at some point. You had expected it, it was obvious that it would happen at some point. You shouldn’t be surprised. But you hadn’t expected him to look… like that.

“You didn’t scare me, I was just surprised,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to see you in this form.”

He fidgeted with his sleeves, making himself smaller. “Did you like my other form better? I can change back. It just makes me feel a little weird when I’m a bat for too long. But I can change back, I can.”

“No, no,” you rushed to say. “I don’t mind really. This form is nice as well.”

Mentally, you slapped yourself, you couldn’t be more awkward if you tried. At least, the vampire looked pleased at that, a small smile making its way to his face. It was unfair that he was cute even in his human form.

You approached and put the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s good that you are back in this form. Now, we can finally meet. What is your name?”

“Jungkook,” the vampire replied shyly and you offered your own name. “I wanted to say thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t taken me in. I’m not sure if I would have made it.” His smile tightened and you shuddered just thinking about it. “I’m really thankful for everything. If there is any way for me to repay you, I will do anything.”

“There is no need for that. I wanted to help you and it was the right thing to do. Just promise me you will be careful in the future. Your bat form is small and you saw how dangerous storms can be for you.”

Jungkook nodded, abashed. “I won’t, I promise. I thought I had some time before it hit and I wanted to explore the forest. I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry to me, it’s you who was flung from tree to tree last night.” He chuckled a little at that. “Do you want some tea? It’s black with maple and vanilla.”

“Yes, please,” he said politely.

You picked up the black ceramic teapot and paused. “I brought a cup for you because I thought you would be in your bat form. Would you like a mug?”

“No, no, the cup is fine,” Jungkook insisted.

You poured some into the cup first and then into your mug. The cup was from the same set as the teapot, black and with the same engravings of flowers and vines. Your mug was a gift from Seokjin during his pottery phase, like many of his obsessions you weren’t sure how or why it started. It was weird cups at first that looked like melting pieces of clay but he got pretty good by the end. Before he moved on to his next obsession, he was able to make things like your mug, which was shaped like a cauldron and he and Jimin had painted it to look like the night sky.

Jungkook hugged his cup in his hands, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in the sweet aroma of tea and closed his eyes in delight.

“Do you want some honey or sugar?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch. “I usually drink my own without and I didn’t think to bring any.”

“No, it’s okay.” He took the first sip and you could tell that it wasn’t okay. He frowned, but not in the way you had seen when he was drinking blood, and pursed his lips. He didn’t say anything but it was clear he was trying to pretend that it wasn’t too bitter for him.

You chuckled and set your mug down. “I’ll bring some honey for you.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said, wincing subtly.

You got the jar of honey from the kitchen and added two teaspoons to his tea. That way, he liked it enough that he asked for a refill. While you drank your tea together, he explained to you that he was in town for a few days visiting some friends with his sire. He had spent all of his life in the city and the small town and the forest fascinated him. He knew that there was a storm coming but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. He had been planning to go for a quick flight to stretch his wings before it hit, he hadn’t got to explore the forest yet and he was curious. Unfortunately, the storm hit early and the wind had dragged him deeper into the darkness.

“I thought I wouldn’t make it out,” he admitted quietly, holding his cup close to his chest. “It was so strong and so loud and I couldn’t fight it. I’m not very strong in my bat form, I’m still young and I don’t have much practice. I couldn’t hold on to anything and I couldn’t find shelter. I was thinking about my sire and how sad he would be. He must be very worried.”

The bond between sires and their fledglings was very strong and for the first months after the turning, some sires wouldn’t even let their fledgling out of their sight. For years, the sires would take care of the younger vampires, help them adjust, and teach them everything about their new life. It wasn’t commonly understood but sires needed their fledglings as much as their fledglings needed them. You had read that there was a part of them, an echo of their own blood from the turning in their fledgling’s bloodstream, that called for them to be by their side.

“The storm is messing up with any means of magical communication but as soon as it calms a little, I can send a message to town,” you offered. “We can let him know you’re safe here until the worst passes and you can safely return to town. The townspeople know me, it will be alright.”

“Thank you.” You had lost count of how many times he had thanked you since he had changed forms.

You finished your tea and roped him into a game of cards to distract him from the thoughts of his sire. He got engrossed into the game quickly and he won two out of the three rounds you played. He had a competitive streak and he learned quickly the rules of every game you taught him.

It had been a few months since you had played cards with someone. Jimin had been the one to teach you and you had only ever played with him and Seokjin. It was fun to share this with someone else, even when he pouted when he lost. You didn’t care about winning very much so you didn’t mind and his excitement when he won was heart-warming to watch.

He jumped when loud thunder cracked through the night and you told him that he didn’t have to worry. You had applied strong protections on the house and the garden. And the forest protected you too. The storm was interfering with its magic but nothing could change its core and nothing could turn it on you. Turning on you would be like turning on itself and the forest was too wise for that.

You played games until well into the night. Jungkook’s eyes were growing heavy and his mouth stretched in small yawns. It was time to go to sleep. Jungkook curled up on the couch and you carried two knitted blankets to the living room and wrapped them around him. His cheeks grew rosy and he giggled at being tucked into bed like a child.

You left the fire burning in the hearth to keep him warm in the night.

“Goodnight, Jungkook. Have sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” he said, muffled by the blankets. “Sweet dreams.”

There was a change in the air like the turning of the tides. Your limbs were lighter and something different was lingering on your skin. You padded to the window and drew the curtains to the side. The sky was cloudy but it was no longer the suffocating darkness of the day before. The trees swayed and the rain persisted but it wasn’t attempting to drown the earth anymore. The storm was breaking.

You threw on one of your long black skirts and a brown sweatshirt and climbed down the stairs to the living room. Jungkook was sitting up on the couch and already looking in your direction when you walked inside. Supernatural hearing, you forgot about it sometimes.

"Good morning,” you greeted him. “The storm is slowly calming down. I will probably be able to send a message to the town and by tomorrow, it will be safe for you to return.”

“Thank you so much,” Jungkook said. He was fidgeting with his sleeves again but his smile was unmistakable. “I hope my sire will forgive me for being so careless.”

“I’m sure he will. For now, breakfast blood?”

Jungkook’s smile widened as he eagerly agreed. You couldn’t offer him the amount of blood he was used to, you had to ration it to make sure that it would last. It would be very difficult to get human blood once your supply was gone.

You hadn’t reached the kitchen yet when you sensed someone pass through your wards. The presence was familiar, the knowledge sitting in a hidden pocket in your brain and you couldn’t touch it. Jungkook hurried to the window, the path leading up to the door could be seen from there. He let out a small yelp before bolting to the door and throwing it open.

“Yoongi!” he shouted the name that had circled your mind for years. The presence was in your house and the name fit like a glove. Against your better judgment, you walked towards them to see for yourself. It could be someone else, couldn’t it? You just had to take a look.

He was clinging to Jungkook, hugging him so tightly it looked painful. Half of his face was hidden against the fledgling’s shoulder but it was unmistakably him. The memories were as clear as when you made them, they resurfaced stronger than any of your nightly musings bordering on regrets. His hair was longer than you remembered, reaching past his nape, his cat eyes were clenched shut and his skin was white porcelain. He was also drenched to the bone.

“I looked for you,” he said and his voice awoke more memories. “I looked for you everywhere I could– But the storm was too strong. We were locked inside for so long. They wouldn’t let me out. Don’t ever do that to me again, do you hear me? Don’t ever disappear on me like that. I was going out of my mind.”

“Never, I promise.” Jungkook was hugging him just as tight and although he was bigger in stature, he made himself smaller in the older vampire’s arms. “I’m alright. I was safe here. The wind carried me here and I was well taken care of. I should introduce you,” he said with excitement, pulling back a little.

Yoongi opened his eyes, their dark color made your heart beat faster. He looked at you behind Jungkook and when your eyes connected you could see the myriad of emotions passing through them. First, there was surprise, then disbelief and confusion and all the minor ones in-between. You had disappeared from one day to another, leaving no trace behind and no trail to follow. He must have believed he would never see you again.

Oblivious to the change in the atmosphere, Jungkook introduced you to each other, telling his sire how well you took care of him and that you kept him warm and well-fed and healed his injuries. You couldn’t read Yoongi, there must have been a point in your history that you had been able to but that was lost now.

There was silence after the introductions were over. Jungkook’s eyes jumped between the two of you. “Did I say something?”

“No, no, we just– We knew each other. In another life,” you said. Before you had enough of the wary glances and offending questions and fled the city. Before the manifestation of everything you had been afraid of.

Yoongi’s lips parted and he looked away. “We did. In another life,” he repeated bitterly.

“Oh.” Jungkook stood awkwardly between the two of you, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Thunder boomed outside and you rushed to close the door that they had forgotten half-open during their reunion. That served to remind you about the very important fact that Yoongi was wet enough to have taken a long dive in the lake.

“I’ll bring some towels, you’re dripping,” you said and climbed upstairs.

It was an escape but a necessary one. It gave you some time to think. Jungkook’s sire was Yoongi. Yoongi, who you had known for years when you lived in the city, who you had tried to forget for years while you lived in this cottage but gave in once you realized it was impossible. He starred in most of your favorite memories from the city. And that’s exactly what he was supposed to be. A memory.

What was he doing in your forest? You had run so far away from the city that no one from your past would be able to find you. Except one. You had one link left to your old life, Seokjin. Seokjin was the one who had shown you this cottage hidden in the forest that spilled into his hometown. When the incident had happened and you were desperate for an escape, he had been your savior and he had swore not to tell anyone about your whereabouts. Seokjin was also Yoongi’s friend.

The dots were connecting. Seokjin and Jimin were the friends Yoongi and Jungkook were visiting.

You grabbed two forest green towels and paused in the hallway. Seokjin hadn’t told you. The few times you had seen him in the past weeks, he hadn't mentioned anything about Yoongi. A twinge of hurt scraped at your heart. He should have told you. If he knew Yoongi would be visiting, why wouldn’t he tell you? He knew who Yoongi used to be to you. Had he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it? No one was supposed to know you were here but that was all over now.

You took a deep breath and returned downstairs. Yoongi was where you had left him, a small puddle of rainwater pooled at his feet. Jungkook’s clothes were also a little wet from their embrace but it was nothing compared to his sire.

“Here,” you said, handing him the towels.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for your floor.”

“The floor can be cleaned. You will catch your death like this.”

He rubbed his hair with the towel. “I’m already dead.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t work on me. I know vampires are not as indestructible as you would like to think. I have a spell to get all the water out of your clothes but I haven’t tried it on clothes that are currently being worn.”

Yoongi looked down at his drenched clothes. “It’s not that bad.”

“You are making a small lake on the floor,” you pointed out. “You didn’t even take an umbrella with you?”

“It was no use against the wind.”

The wind wasn’t so bad now but you guessed it must have been worse when he set out to find Jungkook. He could have been looking for hours before he stumbled upon your house. Usually, the forest helped along the ones who looked for you but the storm was messing with its energy.

Yoongi gave you permission to use the drying spell on his clothes, his face scrunching up when the water was removed. You didn’t use it often because it left the clothes stiff and weird to the touch for some time. They turned too dry but in the present situation, you didn’t have many options.

Jungkook was still looking between the two of you in confusion as he held on to Yoongi’s arm, although witnessing the spell had put a smile on his face.

“Now that you’re dry, let’s move to the living room,” you said. “I’ll get the fire going and make some tea. None of you are going out in the rain.”

Yoongi studied you and you felt naked under his eyes. He was the only person from your past, other than Seokjin, that you had seen since you fled. He knew a version of you that no longer existed and you hadn’t been prepared for that. In the end, you should have known. The past always comes knocking regardless of how long and how far you run from it.

Yoongi didn’t pretend to turn you down to be polite but silently followed you to the living room. Jungkook pointed to the armchair by the fire that he had claimed for himself and gushed about how comfortable and soft it was. However, he didn’t sit there in favor of staying close to Yoongi on the couch. It was clear he had missed his sire and he needed to be as close to him as possible.

You picked up a few logs of wood from the metal box near the fireplace and stacked them inside. You added two layers of kindling and reached for the matches.

“How do you know each other?” Jungkook asked, breaking the fragile silence.

Yoongi looked at you, staying quiet. He was going to let you share as much as you wanted. You were surprised that he wasn’t asking more questions himself. Maybe he hadn’t cared as much as Seokjin had told you. Maybe it was the shock.

“I used to live in the city,” you started. “I went to the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery and we met on campus. Yoongi was visiting a friend of his.”

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asked and Yoongi nodded.

Namjoon was another person who you hadn’t seen in years. He was a powerful witch but he had chosen the academic route and didn’t practice magic much. You hadn’t been very close but you could have got there. You enjoyed his company and you could talk for hours. You would see him in the library and around campus and you had coffee together a few times and talked about magic theory and how energy flowed through living things. Seokjin was your only link to him as well and you had learned from him that he was still teaching at the University and he had been promoted from assistant professor to professor. When the news reached them, Seokjin and Jimin had traveled to the city to celebrate with him.

“We haven’t spoken since she left the city,” Yoongi said it simply like you had decided to leave one day instead of fleeing in the night, taking the last train to a town in the middle of nowhere. That had been five years ago.

You lit up a match, the action familiar and comforting, and threw it between the logs. The fire spread slowly, enveloping the wood. You stroked the flames with the poker, pushing and pulling the logs until the fire was burning strong.

You got up and wiped your hands on the soot-stained towel that hung from the same hook as the poker. “I’ll make some tea to fend off the cold.”

In the kitchen, you put on your apron with the embroidered mushrooms and marigolds, taking a moment to pull yourself together. It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The ghosts of your past never disappeared but they hadn’t been more than ghosts until now.

You focused on the task at hand, setting the water to boil and opening the cabinet that housed your tea jars. Echinacea and elderberry tea with dried angel lotus leaves was the most effective for preventing colds and boosting the immune system. Its taste was also nice and soothing.

You were putting spoonfuls of the tea blend into the strainer when Yoongi walked inside. His footsteps were soundless and you felt his presence before you saw him. Vampires’ energies were different than most creatures. They weren’t alive, not exactly, and energies were tied to a creature’s life force. Therefore, for vampires, their energies were unique and as a witch who could feel life and death very acutely, you could detect them easily.

“Have you been here all this time?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

The sounds of boiling water caught your attention, steam was coming out of the kettle’s spout. You removed the kettle from over the fire and poured the water into the teapot.

“I have,” you replied. There was nothing else to say, any explanations you could offer were useless.

“That’s it? That’s all after all these years?” Yoongi asked.

You couldn’t look at him, fiddling with herbs there was nothing to do with and glancing at the large clock on the wall for the brewing time. “I don’t know what else to say. You know why I had to leave. I couldn’t stay after what happened.”

“And you chose to disappear without a word?” When you didn’t answer, he continued. “I was sure that Seokjin knew where you were but he swore he didn’t. He said you disappeared without telling him anything and that he hadn’t heard from you since. Regardless of how many times I asked, it was always the same answer.”

“I asked him to say that to anyone who asked,” you admitted. “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi shake his head slowly in disbelief. “Why? Why didn’t you want me to know?”

It hurt to keep quiet but there was no way to make this better. You couldn’t tell him that you had been afraid although a part of you knew Yoongi wouldn’t judge you, like Seokjin wouldn’t judge you. But your fear had been too big and all-consuming, fear of what he would think and also fear of what you could do. Your magic had proved to be much stronger than you had believed and you needed to regain control of it to ensure you wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And Yoongi was too strong of a link to the city. Your feelings were too much and too complicated. If he had known where you had run to, there was a chance he would have followed and it wouldn’t be only Seokjin you had doomed to a life in a small town he hadn’t wanted to return to.

Yoongi sighed. “That's all then. I came here to thank you for taking care of Jungkook,” he said, breaking the silence. “I will forever be in your debt. Jungkook told me of how you found him and how you cared for him. I was out of my mind when I couldn’t find him and I realised he was out in the storm alone. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything had happened to him, I would never forgive myself. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

“I will tell you what I told him, there is no need for thanks or debts. I wanted to help him and I did. The fact that he is a very cute bat also helped, I couldn’t resist.”

Your attempt at a joke was rewarded with a weak chuckle. “It’s those big eyes. It’s impossible to tell him no.”

“I can imagine that.” You glanced at the clock again. The tea was ready. “I guess you are visiting Jin. Now that the weather won’t interfere as much with my magic, I should send him a fire message to let him know that you are both here and safe. Knowing him, he will be fretting over where you are and driving Jimin crazy.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t tell him I would be leaving in the morning,” Yoongi confessed. It made sense, Seokjin wouldn’t have let him leave while the rain was still this heavy and definitely not without an umbrella. “Should I take this to the living room?” He gestured to the tray you had set up with the teapot and the three mugs.

“Yes, go ahead. The tea is ready.”

Yoongi picked up the tray and left the kitchen without saying anything more. There was a painful tightness in your throat as your shoulders slumped. You had to send that message to Seokjin but your feet were rooted to the ground and your knees were weak. You had thought you would never see Yoongi again and although it hurt, after years you had made peace with it. All that was [changed] by the storm and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You opened one of the drawers and pulled out a crinkled loose leaf of paper from the stack you kept there. On the counter, there was a pen next to the old witchcraft recipe book you had been studying the day before. You gripped the pen and debated how you should start the letter. He had known Yoongi was coming to town and yet he had told you nothing when he knew why you had run away and why no one should know where you were. He was supposed to be your best friend and best friends looked out for each other. For the first time during your friendship, that wasn’t true.

Suppressing your stupid anger, you wrote a quick message letting him know that Jungkook and Yoongi were safe in your house and that you would send them back to town once the rain and the forest’s magic calmed down. Towards the end, you added that you would like to know about any future guests of his from the city. You considered crossing over the bitterness that bled into the page but you let it be. Using black chalk, you drew the sigil for the fire message at the top right corner.

You lit up a blood-red candle and burned some thyme over the flame first. You recited the incantation while you held the message over the fire and watched it consume the paper. The magic was a lazy tingle at your fingertips and a warmth curled in your chest.

Yoongi and Jungkook were talking in hushed voices that were swiftly silenced when you walked back to the living room. The tea had been poured into the mugs but they were untouched. You picked up one of them on your way to the armchair. Conversation was stilted. Jungkook tried to alleviate the awkwardness but was soon shrinking into his sire’s side, clutching onto his mug of tea with both hands.

“The rain is growing weaker,” you observed. “The forest’s magic is settling, it can be unpredictable during storms and it’s dangerous to tread through it when it is like that. It will be best for you to return to the town before it picks up again.”

There would be another spike in a couple of hours before it broke in the night. That’s how storms like this one worked and what your senses were telling you.

You accompanied them to the door and they thanked you again. It felt like you didn’t deserve it with your past mistakes clinging to you like vices. Jungkook was quieter than last night when you were practically a stranger.

“Here,” you said, handing Yoongi the only umbrella you owned. It was a black one with little mushrooms Jimin had painted on it and enchanted them not to be washed away by rain. “I don’t use it much and I won’t be going into town for a few days. Seokjin can bring it back when he finds time.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi said.

You picked up your cloak from the coat stand and offered it to Jungkook. “And this is for you. It’s charmed to protect you from rain.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, making him look like a baby deer. “I can’t take your cloak,” he said, shaking his head. “You might need it.”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have anywhere to go.” You would have to go to the farmhouse later in the day but it was only a short distance away and a little rain wouldn’t phase you. You took it up to yourself to wrap the cloak around him and pull the hood over his head. “I didn’t nurse you back to health for you to get sick now.”

Suddenly, there was a blur of movement and strong arms were wrapped around you. Jungkook was hugging you and, when the shock wore off, you hugged him back.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, his voice sounding a little wet.

“If anything, you found me,” you joked. You pulled back, although you didn’t want to let go of him. “Go now. The forest will lead you to the town.”

“I will bring the cloak back to you,” Jungkook promised before he and Yoongi left. On the path, Yoongi glanced back at you over his shoulder but you averted your eyes and closed the door.

Five years and your heart still fluttered. But it was different. There was guilt tainting everything surrounding him. You had imagined meeting him again countless times, of course, you had, mostly during restless nights and too quiet mornings, but it hadn’t played out like this in any of your scenarios. It was too… simple, too mundane, even though your heart was still racing, but it also felt a little like the end of the world.

Their mugs were sitting empty on the coffee table. You placed them on the tray to take everything back in the kitchen and you realized that you had forgotten to at least put some cookies in a plate for them. Vampires didn’t eat much human food but it was simple courtesy to offer.

There was a spark in the air, followed by another, before flames erupted and formed a letter. You caught it before it floated to the ground. The loopy handwriting belonged to Seokjin. The first line was an apology, the second line was an apology as well. He promised to visit as soon as he could to explain and that you had every right to be angry at him. He thanked you for letting him know that Yoongi and Jungkook were safe since Yoongi had taken off in the morning before Seokjin had woken up, otherwise, he wouldn’t have let him go off in the rain. Reading his letter, the jagged edges of your anger smoothed but Seokjin would have to explain himself in person.

You picked up the tray and set yourself to tidying up. It was strange, you had lived alone for five years but the house felt emptier than ever before.

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