#taehyung comfort au

[hollyhomburg]

Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

#bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts gang au #bts mafia au #bts polyamory au #bts au #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #min yoongi fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #knj #kth #ksj #jhs #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 26

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 12.1k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence,

Masterlist

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It was the second time Taehyung was in Jungkook’s atelier—only recently had Jungkook started thinking of it like that, before it was the atelier—but he was looking around him like it was a fairytale and everything was made of magic. Jungkook guessed he must have looked a little like that as well the first time you had shown him the room and told him it was his to do as he pleased. Athens and the Parthenon stretching on the wall never failed to inspire wonder and a deep respect in him, regardless of how long it had been since the first time he walked inside.

Everything else in the room was quite different from that first day. The once pristine and unused room was now splattered in paint. It was everywhere, on the floor and the cabinets and on the many newspapers that he used to cover everything. The first time he had stained the floor with paint, he had gone to you with teary eyes, lowered ears, and a hundred apologies on the tip of his tongue. You had simply laughed and told him that the room was his and he could paint the whole floor if he wanted to. The only thing you asked of him was to be careful of the wall painting. Jungkook would have never touched it in the first place.

Finished canvases were leaning against the cabinets and the walls. Most of them were of places Jungkook found beautiful, the Eiffel Tower, the Parthenon, a neighborhood in Amsterdam he had seen in one of your photos. There were also a few paintings of the pack, you and Seokjin cooking in the kitchen, Yoongi playing the piano, Namjoon and Hoseok under the large tree in the garden, Taehyung with Alice at the lake, and Jimin smiling so wide his eyes turned into crescent moons.

Jungkook longed for Jimin with an insatiable hunger. Now that he had gotten a taste of him once and Jimin told him he wanted it, now that there was no guilt and anguish, he couldn’t get enough of him. He wanted to always be touching him, holding him, and scenting him. His scent was like an aphrodisiac to him and he was addicted.

However, when Taehyung had shyly asked about his atelier, he was compelled to show it to him. It wasn’t often that Taehyung asked for anything and although he hadn’t specifically asked to see the room, Jungkook knew he would like it. Taehyung’s smile was also addicting and rare like a precious gem. So, he had left Jimin with Seokjin to cook in the kitchen and had taken Taehyung’s hand and climbed down the stairs. His hand was soft and he could still feel its ghost on his palm.

He was right, Taehyung’s smile was worth it. It was a tiny one, a small curve of his lips, but it was stunning.

His tiger ears twitched when his eyes landed on the painting of him. He approached slowly, taking it in. A hand reached out but he drew it back before it could touch the canvas.

In the painting, Alice was grinning brightly at Taehyung, one of her rainbow butterfly hair-clips clipped on his dark hair. But what Jungkook loved the most about it was Taehyung’s smile. For the first time, with Alice, Taehyung looked genuinely happy. The painting didn’t do the moment justice, he hadn’t managed to capture the tiger hybrid perfectly. He had taken a picture of the two of them and used it as reference but it was difficult, almost impossible, to immortalize Taehyung’s beauty in that moment.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook asked gently.

Taehyung startled as if the painting had enchanted him and Jungkook’s voice broke the spell. He hugged himself with one hand, almost like he wanted to stop himself from touching the painting. “It’s… beautiful.”

“It was a beautiful moment,” Jungkook agreed. “Alice is incredible, right?”

Taehyung nodded slowly. “I… have it. The butterfly. She doesn’t want back… it.”

They both looked at the painting. Jungkook wasn’t sure if they were seeing the same thing but maybe they were.

“Do you want to paint again?” he asked, breaking the silence. He took down the half-finished canvas of a beach from the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to agree this time. They picked up different brushes, chose a few tubes of oil paint and set themselves to work. Jungkook showed him how to paint a sunset—he had perfected the skill through a lot of observation and many YouTube videos. Taehyung seemed to have fun blending the colors and drawing the shapes of semi-transparent clouds.

They stayed in the atelier for a few hours until they were called for dinner by Hoseok, whose heart-shaped smile at seeing them together in their paint-splattered clothes rivaled the beauty of the sunset. After the meal, Jungkook asked if Taehyung would like to take the painting of him and Alice to his room. They hung it on the wall with Yoongi’s help and went back to the garden together.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You were filming at Monmouth Manufacturing for the day. They were the last couple of scenes you would be filming there for Season 1. Hopefully—and most probably—, you would see it again next year, or the year after that, filming for Season 2. First, you would have to finish Crooked Kingdom and then towards the end of the year, maybe you could work on the Raven Cycle. Your schedule was already crazy and you were troubled about what that meant for the next year.

A headache was brewing behind your temples and you were trying very hard to ignore it. You had been at the studios since 6 o’clock in the morning and you were going crazy. It would be one of those 15-16 hour days. You could see it coming. The executive producer of Paper Hearts had called to tell you that you were desperately needed for a board meeting for the next season. They had changed the time of the meeting to later in the afternoon to fit your schedule, which proved that it was important. You dreaded the drive to the other side of Los Angeles and what was sure to be a very long discussion.

During your lunch break, you texted Namjoon that you would be late again. He didn’t say anything but you knew he was disappointed. He had to be. You had barely spent any time with them in the past few days. There were also matters you still had to discuss. You hadn’t told the other hybrids about the thing between the three of you and they deserved to know. Your headache got worse just thinking about it.

You flipped through the script during a small break, sipping on your third cup of coffee of the day. It was making you jittery but the other option was falling asleep in your chair.

“Okay, I think we are good to move on to the next scene,” you told Will. “And then we’re done for the day.”

“Should I get someone to call the actors?”

“Yeah, see if they are done with makeup and send them in.” You rolled your neck and let out a heavy sigh. “All things considered it’s going pretty well.”

Will chuckled as he motioned for someone from the staff to come closer. “For someone who’s been here since six, you’re doing remarkably well.”

You waited for him to send the man to fetch the actors before speaking again. “We’ll see about that when we’re done with this scene. If I’m on my feet and awake by then, I deserve an award.”

Will shrugged, leaning back on his chair. “I’ve seen you do worse. Do you remember when we were filming ‘The Grand Masquerade’ in Prague? You were running on three hours of sleep a night for a week. I thought you would fall asleep during filming and wouldn’t wake up for a couple of days.”

“I was younger then,” you shrugged it off. You eyed the script again, focusing on your notes. “ I don’t have the same energy.”

“It was three years ago.”

“Three years can be a long time.”

You could understand that better than anyone, considering that this year sometimes seemed like a decade to you. In a year, your whole life had changed. You were different, everything was different from last year. Three years could be a very long time, indeed. But also the blink of an eye.

One of the actors arrived and you both greeted him. Soon, he was swept away by the movement director.

“I think you need another break,” Will declared in all of his dramatic glory.

You tapped your long nails on your plastic cup, the action was strangely soothing. “I think I need another coffee.”

“You certainly need a break,” Will insisted. “And you certainly don’t need another coffee.”

He had noticed your restlessness, then. “We just came back from a break. And there is no time for another one. After we are done here, promotions for Six of Crows begin then there is the premiere and the tour and they are getting everything ready to begin filming for Season 6 of Paper Hearts. And Crooked Kingdom is next year and I am very behind on that.”

Will’s face did that thing he did whenever he was done with you, his features slacking like he was bored and a little irritated. “You can’t be behind on something that hasn’t even started yet. Be serious.”

“I am. Deadly.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Break. You need a break.”

The rest of the actors arrived then and the subject was dropped in favor of going over the details of the scene with them. They took their places and filming began. There was a place where the scene kept being snagged and you had to go over it four times to get it right and five more to perfect it.

By the end, you were running like you were being hunted to find John and drive to the company building. The meeting as you had expected was long and tiring. At least, it was a productive one. You discussed the script, the new additions, and the schedule. You shared a few worries and disagreements you had and you mostly managed to find the middle ground. Another meeting would be held in a week before filming would officially start in a few weeks.

It was past eleven when you opened the door of the Castle. No one was in the living room, which was to be expected.

“I’m back!” you shouted, even though no one would hear you if they were in the garden. The night was warm and your skin felt stifling. Sweat dotted your forehead and the change of temperature, when you walked inside the air-conditioned Castle, sent a shock through your system. Your legs had turned to stones and you struggled to take off your shoes.

All you wanted was to fall asleep. You opened the balcony door and shouted again that you were back and that you would be in your room. You closed it before you could hear any replies.

In your room, you had to force yourself to change into your pajamas instead of falling face-first onto your bed in your dirty clothes. You didn’t have the energy to take a shower like you usually did at the end of the day. Your appetite had also disappeared. You hadn’t eaten dinner but you weren’t hungry. You were taking off your makeup in the bathroom when there was a knock on your door.

For a moment, you debated not answering but you dismissed the thought instantly.

“Come in,” you called. “I’m in the bathroom.”

You heard the door open and close again. You dragged the cotton pad roughly across your face, you didn’t have the patience to be gentle and it left your skin red. Some days it was just too sensitive.

“Are you alright?” The care in Seokjin’s voice tugged at the tight knot in your chest, loosened it. You glanced at the door but he wasn’t there.

Most of the makeup was gone from your face and you looked like a mess. You threw the cotton pads in the bin and washed your face quickly to get rid of the mascara under your eyes and any stubborn residues of makeup.

Seokjin was standing by your vanity, waiting for you. It wasn’t often that he came to your room. You weren’t used to seeing him there but it felt right.

“For someone who has been running around for more than sixteen hours, I am peachy,” you tried to joke but the delivery was lacking. It was confirmed by Seokjin’s frown.

“That’s too much, even for you. That isn’t healthy.”

“It is what it is,” you said, trying not to sound defensive. “It isn’t something I haven’t done before. And tomorrow’s schedule is easier so it’s alright.”

That didn’t seem to do anything to ease his mind. “Because you did it before, it doesn’t mean you should keep doing that.”

You rubbed your temples, your headache was getting worse. “There are things that need to get done. I can’t just stop because I’m tired. I get calls all day and my inbox is full of emails I haven’t answered yet. I have a million things on my plate, I can’t ignore them.”

“I know,” Seokjin said, his tone softer. He came closer to you and took your hand in his. The touch was grounding. You hadn’t realized you were spiraling until your feet were planted on the earth again. “We know how important your work is and how much effort you have put in to be where we are. It’s admirable and it’s incredible that you’ve managed to do all this. But your health is important too. You can’t keep running with an empty tank. You need to rest too.”

You heaved a sigh and let your head fall forward to rest on his chest. Your nose wasn’t as sensitive as a hybrid’s but breathing in the familiar sweetness calmed you. He hugged you and drew you closer to him, his hand kneading the tense muscles of your shoulders and the back of your neck.

“We missed you,” he said almost in a whisper.

“You always miss me.”

Seokjin stayed quiet but you both knew. They always missed you because you were always gone.

“You should eat something before you fall asleep. Yoongi and I made gnocchi with prosciutto and parmesan and garlic bread with mozzarella. I can bring it here but I think it would be best if you ate in the kitchen. Everyone wants to see you but they don’t want to bother you.”

The simple act of going to the kitchen sounded like climbing a mountain. Your bed looked too attractive, only a meter away and very very soft. Your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep and yet…

“I’ll come to the kitchen,” you said. Having woken up at five, you hadn’t seen anyone before leaving. The thought of not seeing them at all today left a sour taste in your mouth. “But can we stay here? For a bit?”

Seokjin placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head. “Of course. For as long as you want.”

You lost track of time in his arms but no more than five minutes must have passed by the time you pulled back with a heavy heart. A temporary balm had been applied to the ailments of the day. You could hold yourself up for a few more minutes to eat a little, you had been doing it all day.

Your legs were as heavy as concrete walking to the kitchen. You had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, otherwise, you might just collapse. There was noise coming from the kitchen but your tired mind couldn’t register what they were saying.

You were surprised to see that everyone was there waiting for you, even Taehyung. Yoongi placed the plates in front of your seat and Jimin added the cutlery. Everyone else was sitting around the table in their usual stools.

Their greetings were quieter than usual and you guessed that they were conscious of how tired you were. You gave them the warmest smile you could master and patted Hoseok’s hair as you passed by to take your seat. The aroma of the food made your stomach growl, you hadn’t realized how hungry you had been before. Your appetite was back. Everything looked incredible as always and you couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Are you all just going to look at me while I eat?” you asked, picking up your fork.

The hybrids looked sheepish at your question.

“We just wanted to see you,” Jungkook said. “You left too early in the morning.”

You had to compose yourself to pierce a couple of gnocchi with your fork and not sigh out loud. Yoongi’s eyes were heavy on you, they were the ones you could detect with the most ease. You were the most aware of him.

“I had too much to do today. They have been bugging me from the studios for days. If I didn’t start early, I would have never finished. And I prefer an early morning to a late night. I tend to work better in the morning.”

You forced the fork to your mouth. You were ravenous but the conversation stalled your appetite.

“I would think that this was considered a late night,” Namjoon pointed out.

The taste, as expected, was heavenly. The creaminess of the parmesan sauce was tied perfectly with the savory crispy prosciutto. In your condition, you felt like it was wasted on you. As hungry as you were, you just wanted to put your fork down and go to sleep. But you couldn’t do that. You were better than that, you could eat something and then you could go to sleep. You could do that, you had done this before. Hadn’t you?

“This isn’t a late night,” you said after you swallowed the delicious bite. You had to eat another one. And another one. “Late nights can be anything from three a.m. to the next morning. This doesn’t happen often but I really had too many things to do. This is just for a few weeks because we’re moving very fast with the Raven Boys and filming for Season 6 of Paper Hearts will start soon. There are a lot of meetings and things they need my opinion on, it will actually be better once filming starts. They don’t need me as much then.”

You pushed the gnocchi around and you could tell they didn’t believe you without looking at them. It was true that your workload was heavier these days but you couldn’t exactly guarantee that it would get better soon. Filming for the Raven Cycle had been going exceptionally well and it was moving faster than you had originally planned. It would be wrapping up by the end of September or by early October at the latest. Wrapping up was a lot of work, the beginning and the end were the busiest parts.

The rest of autumn was going to be very difficult too. There was the premier as well, which added to your workload greatly. It would take up all of November and the work for it would start from October. Maybe December would be calmer. Maybe.

You ate the rest of your meal in relative silence. They didn’t talk more about you leaving early and coming back late although you knew they wanted to. Their voices were quiet as they talked about anything from witches in cartoons to color theory. You let their words play in the background like the sound from a TV as you tried to eat as much as you could.

The result was a half-finished plate of gnocchi and one less garlic bread with mozzarella. Your eyes were closing involuntarily by then, staying closed for longer periods each time. If you didn’t go to sleep now, you would fall face-first into the gnocchi.

You slid off your seat and balanced yourself on numb legs. “Thank you for this, it was delicious. But I really need to go to sleep now.”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin said, glancing at half of the food still on the plate. “You should rest.”

“At what time do you start work tomorrow?” Yoongi asked. He had been silent during your dinner and his voice rang louder than the rest to your ears.

It must have taken a few seconds to navigate the fog in your mind before you could answer. “Filming starts around nine, so I should be there by eight. Half past eight at most.”

“That’s still too early,” Hoseok said, frowning.

You waved their worries off. They had better things to worry about than the job you had been doing for half of your life. “It isn’t too early. I can sleep for a decent number of hours before I have to get ready. It’s alright, really. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams.”

With effort, you dragged your body to your bedroom. You didn’t bother turning on the lights and stumbled to your bed guided only by the moonlight. There wasn’t a point in closing the blinds when you would wake up around the time the sun was rising. The light of your phone was too bright in the darkness and it made your eyes sting as you set an alarm.

A few messages caught your attention but a knock stopped you before you could open them.

“Come in,” you called, setting your phone aside. The door opened and the light from the hallway slipped in, outlining the silhouettes of the two hybrids. “Is everything okay?”

They both nodded and Jimin took a few steps into the room. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Both of you?” you asked, half-suppressing a yawn. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook hadn’t slept in your room before and the only time you had shared a bed was in Virginia.

Jungkook’s bunny ears drooped. “I can go, I don’t mind. I just missed you.”

“Sorry, that isn’t how I meant it.” Your surroundings were a bit blurry, the minutes stretched but were also impossibly short. It felt a little like life was a dream when you were tired like this. “Come in, both of you. And close the door behind you. It is blinding me a bit.”

They hurried inside and did as you told them. You couldn’t see them well as they moved through the darkness. They surrounded you, lying on different sides. Jimin didn’t hesitate to draw closer, throwing an arm over your stomach. Jungkook was a little stiffer on your left like he didn’t know how to situate himself. You found his hand, intertwining your fingers, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

It felt right, lying between them. Like that was how it was meant to be. But maybe that was the exhaustion talking, the dream realm slipping into the waking world.

“I missed you too,” you whispered. “Now sleep. I have an alarm set for the morning.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Summer bled seamlessly into autumn. The change wasn’t apparent in the Castle, autumn had only arrived in name. The heat was still there and would remain for some time. During the days, it still made sweat drip down your temples the few times you filmed outside the studios but the nights were comfortable and moon-bright.

You had a couple of hours free between takes and nothing to do so you got into your car (John had taken the day off to spend some time with Alice) and started the engine. “Nothing to do” was a relative term of course. There were many things you could be doing, countless extra little tasks that crowded your thoughts, but you disregarded all of them. You had been spending whole days away from home and you were beginning to feel guilty about it.

On your way back, you stopped by your favorite homemade gelato shop. In San Diego, you had gone for gelato the first day and the hybrids had loved it. You had made it a habit to get gelato at the beginning of each day during ComicCon, it was your little ritual. You had ordered gelato a couple of times to the Castle as well but with eight people, it didn’t last more than a day.

There were dozens of flavors behind the display case, all of them looking delectable. You got a wide variety, remembering the flavors they liked the most. You picked hazelnut, tiramisu, chocolate chip cookie, almond, caramel, coconut, cream and sour cherry, nutella, and vanilla and asked for 1 kilo of each to be delivered to your house. It was too hot and your house was too far to transport them in your car.

You didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes outside the gate before the delivery boy arrived. You got the bags full of gelato containers from him and sent him off with a hefty tip. The Castle was a long way from the heart of the city and anyone willing to make deliveries there deserved a nice tip.

Unlocking and opening the door was a struggle but you managed. You shouted you were back and fast-walked down the stairs, the plastic bags digging into your hands. On the second level, you were faced with Jungkook, who was also climbing the stairs to reach you. He looked as if he was ready to attack you with a hug before noticing the bags.

“A little help?” you asked, raising the bags a little higher. Your arms protested loudly.

Jungkook quickly took most of the bags from you and if you hadn’t been the one carrying them before, you would have believed they were light as a feather with the way he was holding them. “What are all these?” he asked, peeking into the bags. His eyes sparkled and his smile widened in realization when he spotted the containers. “Is that–?”

“Gelato,” you said, a little proud of yourself for thinking of making the stop on your way back.

Jungkook’s steps turned into little hops. “You are the best! How much did you get? Are these all different flavors?”

“You will see…”

Jungkook made a sound close to a petulant whine. “Come on,” he said, dragging the vowels. “What are they? Did you get hazelnut?”

“We’re almost there. You’ll see in a minute.” The garden was coming into view as you climbed down to the last level but Jungkook still turned back to pout at you. “Dramatic bunny,” you muttered lowly but not low enough for his enhanced hearing not to pick it up. You didn’t mind, his giggles were cute.

At the bottom of the stairs, Namjoon and Seokjin were waiting for you.

Seokjin squeezed your wrist in greeting before saying, “He is a very dramatic bunny.”

“Hey! You should be on my side!”

Seokjin raised his eyebrows. “And why is that?” And that set off a round of bickering as they walked to the table to set down the bags.

Despite your protests, Namjoon took the last bags from you. “You should accept a little help from time to time,” he said firmly. You knew that he meant it for more than this. You decided to ignore it for now, you would overthink this later.

“Everyone, gather around! I brought gelato!” you called.

In a few minutes, everyone was gathered around the table. Hoseok, upon seeing the many containers of gelato, had done a happy dance, kissed your cheek and ran upstairs with Seokjin to get bowls and spoons. Jimin had wrapped himself around your back and was licking his lips, which was highly distracting. You shouldn’t be thinking about this.

Taehyung was the quietest one, as he usually was. He was sitting next to Yoongi, looking at all the containers with parted lips.

“I got gelato for us,” you told him. “It is really good. I got a lot of flavors so you can try as many as you want.”

“Gelato,” Taehyung repeated softly, gazing at the containers spread over the table.

Hoseok and Seokjin arrived with eight bowls, too many spoons and three ice cream scoops—you didn’t even know you had that many—and set them down around the table. You busied yourself with opening all the containers. You already knew which flavors you wanted so you grabbed one of the scoops and served yourself three scoops of ice cream.

Jimin had hooked his chin over your shoulder and wasn’t making any move to serve himself. That was up to you then.

“Which flavor do you want?” you asked him, dipping the scoop into the cup of water.

He rubbed his cheek against your shoulder lazily. “Hmmm, I think I want to try a few before I decide.”

You decided to indulge him, you liked it when he got playful and joked with you. You preferred when he was confident and asked for what he wanted. It was beautiful to witness how much he had changed through the months. You dipped a spoon into the flavors in your bowl first and brought them to his mouth. He savored each spoonful, humming and licking his full lips. He was so close to you, if you turned completely your noses would touch. How did you always end up in these situations lately?

“I want that too,” Jungkook said, pouting and pointing at your spoon. He was sitting at the bench and he had his own bowl in front of him, filled with four scoops of gelato.

“You want almond?” you asked.

“No, I want to be fed too.”

“You really are a baby,” Seokjin said. “Is that what’s going to be happening now? Whatever one has the other wants too?”

Jungkook looked away, taking his spoon again disappointed. “No, it just looked nice. It felt nice to be cared for when we were at the lake. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just wanted to ask.”

At the lake, you had been feeding them strawberries dipped in chocolate and your mind had run too wild. You should stop thinking about that. “I want to, you are just a little far. I can’t really reach.”

Jimin was about to say something, probably offer a solution but before he could, Seokjin had picked up Jungkook and plopped him down in his lap.

“Here, I will feed you, you big baby. Is this alright?” he asked, ever caring.

Jungkook squirmed a little but seemed pleased, a light flush settling on his cheeks. “Yes, of course.” He was as tall as Seokjin but in his lap, he looked much smaller. He opened his mouth obediently when Seokjin brought the spoon to his lips.

Your eyes strayed to Taehyung, you were hyper-aware of him whenever you were in the same place. His eyes had that look that you couldn’t understand, it was there every time you interacted with the other hybrids lately. They were telling you that he was opening up more these days but to you, he remained a mystery.

In the end, Jimin ate most of your gelato and you scooped some chocolate chip cookie into your bowl because you knew how much he liked it. Hoseok and Namjoon closed the containers and carried them upstairs, they returned and went to sit by the pool. Yoongi finished quickly and lied down under the shade of the tree closest to them. Jungkook grew sleepy and turned to the side, laying his head on Seokjin’s shoulder. Jimin joined them, hugging Jungkook from the side.

Taehyung stayed at the bench like he wasn’t sure where he should go, his empty bowl in front of him.

“Did you like it?” you asked, gesturing to his bowl. Another reminder of your shortcomings, you didn’t even know how much he had progressed in English.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. The low timbre of his voice surprised you each time. You heard it so rarely that you didn’t get the chance to get used to it.

You should make an effort to talk to him, avoiding him would only make matters worse. But you couldn’t find anything to say. What exactly could you say to him, who had lived most of his life like a caged animal, who you had bought at an illegal auction?

Suddenly, you had the equivalent of a light bulb lighting up next to your head in a cartoon.

“Hobi told me you liked the painting of the pomegranate in the gallery,” you said then realized that pomegranate was probably a word he couldn’t understand and proceeded to explain the painting. “It has glass around it and a hand is holding it. Am I making sense?”

Seokjin looked at you amused but Taehyung nodded in understanding. “It is beautiful.”

“Right, it is,” you agreed. “The artist, the one who made it, is holding an exhibition in LA. We could go if you would like.”

You had bought the painting from her long before her fame had grown and spread. There was a magic to the way Eliana Velasco painted, everything came alive under her brush strokes. The painting of the pomegranate had enchanted you and given your history, you had to have it.

“Go?” he repeated, clearly confused.

“Yeah, to a place that has many of her paintings. You can see them there. Would you like that?” Talking to him, you were more nervous than at any of the award shows you had attended the past few years, more nervous than during any contract negotiations.

Taehyung’s eyes widened a fraction before he nodded. “Can I… see them?”

“Of course,” you said.

Jungkook stirred against Seokjin’s shoulder. “Are we going to an exhibition?”

“If you want to.”

“Are you going to be there too?” he asked and that was harder to answer. Your schedule was the busiest it had been in months and you were drowning in deadlines and responsibilities. You were saved from answering him by a notification on your phone. The numbers displaying the time showed that you were late to leave. You pocketed your phone and with quick goodbyes, you disappeared.

 You were so stupid. You had offered to take Taehyung to an exhibition when work was wrapped around you like a noose. But you had panicked. Eliana had sent you an invitation for the opening night, promising there would be French champagne and hors d’ oeuvres. You had attended plenty of her exhibitions and had many conversations about art and life and their inter-connected philosophy while drinking champagne or wine and staring at paintings.

Although Taehyung’s situation was solved and Amelia had let you know some time ago that legally you were safe, going to the opening night didn’t sound like a good idea. There would be many journalists there who would love to write a piece about you and your sudden decision to adopt so many hybrids. They could go without you another day, that wouldn’t be too bad. Taehyung looked so hopeful and now that you had said it, you couldn’t take it back. You could text Eliana and ask her if she could meet you there one day so you could introduce her to them.

You should try and get some time off.

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It was like a curse, to not be able to sleep in the very few hours you could afford to. Your bed was empty and cold and you couldn’t get comfortable regardless of how much you twisted and turned. Your limbs were too long and awkward and nothing felt right. All the wild thoughts you couldn’t be bothered with during the day showed up one after the other to be examined from every angle and set aside to pick up the next one. It was a losing battle and yet you insisted on fighting it every time before giving in, getting up and popping a pill into your mouth.

You returned the bottle to the cabinet and closed it. After Seoul, for some time it had returned to your bedside table but after a couple of weeks had passed it felt like you were admitting defeat by keeping it there. The image in the mirror was a far cry from the celebrity you were supposed to be. The darkness under your eyes formed bruises, getting worse by the day. Your skin had grown pale and your hair was a mess, you hadn’t had enough strength to braid it before attempting to fall asleep.

You considered going back to bed but the pills could take up to an hour to work when your insomnia reached its peak and you were craving a snack. Something small and sweet sounded nice.

Once again, you had returned late and eaten dinner alone. Your appetite was lacking although the food was delicious. Sometimes, it got like that when you were too tired. You had promised yourself to limit early mornings and late nights but that had changed when you had texted Eliana about the exhibition. She had offered to accompany you to the exhibition on one of the days it was closed to the public and you were more than thankful to her but that also meant that you would have to take half the day off.

The TV was on in the living room, subtitles displayed at the bottom of the screen with no sound. Namjoon was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and watching with distracted eyes. Everyone else had departed to their rooms for the night. His ears twitched as you took a few more steps and he turned to look at you.

You waved your hand, trying to offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He sat up straighter. “Hi. Why are you still awake? Do you need something?”

“Just some water. Maybe a snack.”

“You were really tired when you went to bed. Did you not fall asleep?” he asked, frowning.

You shrugged. “I couldn’t. It’s one of those nights. If I eat something, maybe I will fall asleep easier. A full stomach and all that.” You didn’t mention the pill, it was awkward to do that. “Don’t let me disturb you. I’ll just grab something and go back to bed.”

Namjoon got up and in a few strides, he was standing in front of you. He caressed your cheek, searching for something in your eyes. You weren’t sure what he could see there. “I’ll join you. Let’s sit together for a bit. I haven’t seen you properly in a few days.”

“But you must have stayed back to watch that,” you said. A documentary was playing on the TV, something about Egyptian history.

“It doesn’t matter. I would rather spend my time with you. Unless you don’t want to, then I’ll go back to the couch and be very quiet.”

You slid your hand in his, the touch grounding you in a night that felt both like you were wide awake and caught in a blurry dream. “I would like some company. I’ve missed you too. I’m–”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. There is no need for that.”

He leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered for a few moments, warmth spreading inside you. You raised your head and captured his lips in a kiss. The worst part was that you couldn’t remember how long it had been since you had last shared a kiss. His lips were velvet as you remembered them. This was home. Running back and forth, you had forgotten what it felt like.

You pulled back and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

In the kitchen, Namjoon stood next to you as you rummaged through the cupboards for something that looked appetizing to you. The cupboards were full and yet nothing was calling to you until Namjoon remembered that Seokjin had made ice cream sandwiches with the gelato you had bought and various kinds of cookies. That sounded like heaven so you opened the freezer and chose two of them.

You leaned against the counter, shoulder to shoulder with Namjoon, while you devoured them. Gelato might not have been the best idea to put you to sleep but they tasted heavenly. The pill would start working sooner or later.

“Is it worse today?” he asked. He didn’t elaborate further, he didn’t have to.

The ice cream sandwiches were gone and you were left holding the plate. You licked your fingers and placed it in the sink. “I have a lot of things on my mind. I should be too tired to think but apparently, I’m never too tired for that.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Everything, more or less.” You turned to the side, facing him. “There’s too much to think about and not enough time. Never enough time,” you muttered the last sentence to yourself. If you had all the time in the world it would still not be enough, you would find a way to fill it. “I’ve been putting everything off. Everything I don’t want to deal with or I don’t know how to deal with. And the longer I put it off, the worse it gets.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, taking in what you said and pondering how to reply. It was beautiful, how his mind worked and how attentive he was. “If there is any way we can help you, anything I–we can do, we will. Whatever you want to do, we will support you. Sometimes, in our head, we can make things look bigger, more scary than they are. Do you want to talk about them? Maybe if you talk about what you have to do or what you’re worried about, it will be easier to work out the best way to approach them.”

That was something your therapist used to tell you, that while things festered in your head, they would only get more tangled and more daunting. She had suggested writing them down or talking to her about them. She was right, you knew she was right and that it helped and yet you hadn’t stopped to do that.

You took a deep breath, debating if it would be better to find a notebook and figure out your mess on paper instead of dragging Namjoon into it. But there was a part of you that itched to confide in him and give in to the way you felt safe when you were together. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” you confessed.

You started slowly, with your usual worries about Taehyung, how he was adjusting and how little time you were spending with him and if that was for the best. It was the same old spiralling, you had poked and prodded at it so many times and Namjoon must have been bored of listening to the same rehashed concerns, yet he didn’t interrupt you. You unravelled steadily, once you started speaking, you couldn’t stop. There was the filming for the Raven Cycle, the final touches of Six of Crows, the premiere and the weeks of promotions and the anticipation for the reviews of the critics and the audiences. The book you hadn’t finished and the deadline you couldn’t meet.

You rubbed your hands over your face. It had been so long since most of those problems had surfaced and you were ashamed that you hadn’t faced them yet. “And we haven’t told anyone about us. We said we would and I know you’re waiting for me but I’m never here. And I don’t know how.”

Namjoon caught your hand and brought it to his lips. Lowering it, his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your skin. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. They will understand and they will be happy for us. You shouldn’t let this keep you awake, everything will be alright. They are our pack, this won’t change anything.”

“But…” The anxiety that persisted. “Yoongi. What if his reaction is… bad. You know what he said.”

“That was before.” He sounded sure but there was a tightness at his jaw. “It is different now. He is different, you can see it. He is softer around the edges, he even helps Jin in the kitchen. He’s settling in.”

 “Because he doesn’t know,” you said. “You remember what he said, right? That night? That I adopted you so I could take my pick and now there is Jin and it’s just too much like that, can’t you see it?”

“It’s nothing like that. We both–” Namjoon stiffened, his gaze locking somewhere towards the entrance. “Yoongi?”

Your heart rate sped up, a knot forming in your chest. Yoongi walked in, his socked feet not making a sound. How much had he heard? The last minutes of the conversation replayed in your mind in a panicked mess. What had you said? How long had he been there, listening to you, before Namjoon noticed him? What conclusions would he reach?

Instinctively, you tried to get away from Namjoon but his hold on your hand kept you there.

The panther’s face didn’t give anything away. You couldn’t read him regardless of how much you studied him. You didn’t know his tells, if he had any. His expression was a carefully curated mask of apathy and you couldn’t see past it. Or you didn’t dare to try. Maybe you were too afraid of what you would find.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, voice missing some of its smoothness.

Namjoon held your hand tighter. “You are the only one who can sneak up on me.”

You swallowed down your anxiety and tried to think of him the way he was the past few months, when he helped you with rearranging your office, him playing the piano in the afternoons, your walk at the lake, the vague memory of him helping you up to your room when you were drunk in Virginia. But they were all pushed back by the memory of his snarl and his sharp teeth that night.

“How much did you hear?” you asked, forcing your voice to be steady. He was going to learn of it at some point and as scared as you were, you had to face this.

“Enough.” His tail curled behind him and stilled. “You are afraid of my reaction to something. Is that it?”

Your eyes locked with Namjoon’s and he nodded. This time you weren’t going to run. This time would be different. “Yes, there is something we wanted to tell you. Something we wanted to tell everyone. I didn’t know how to tell you, that’s all.”

“You can tell me now,” he said and it sounded almost like a dare. You weren’t sure if you were walking into a trap.

Namjoon spoke up before you could. “You remember that the two of us are… We are together, as humans would say, romantically.” Yoongi nodded. You couldn’t imagine how he could forget. “That extends to Jin now. We love him and he loves us.” It was almost like he was challenging him to say anything but Yoongi was quiet.

“We didn’t know how to tell everyone. And you…” You didn’t know how to finish.

He scoffed. “I was an asshole.” One side of his lips was twisted up but something about it hurt. “You didn’t want to tell me because I was an asshole when I found out about you two. Worse than an asshole.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders were slumped as if in defeat. For a moment, you wished to reassure him but what he was saying was the truth. “I understand. I’m not– I’m happy for you. And I’m sorry.”

He turned to leave but, through your confusion, you knew you didn’t want him to go.

“Wait,” you called. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Let’s talk. We need to talk.”

Yoongi looked at you over his shoulder. This time, you studied him without your heavy-duty lenses, without the fear of discovery. Like the expression of an actor, you picked apart the tiniest details to paint a picture. When your own barriers were gone, it was easier to see.

“What is there to talk about?” he asked.

“A lot. Things we should have talked about sooner.” Communication was a golden rule in your handbook and you used to be good at it, you tried to be good at it. The misunderstanding trope was overused and useless when the issue could be resolved with a simple conversation.

It was about time you stopped walking on eggshells.

“We never truly talked about it,” you started. “And I didn’t really want to because things were going so well. They are going well. But you are my family now.” His lips parted, only slightly but you caught it. “I can’t know how all of you see it, if it’s the same for you, but that’s the way I feel. And I want to be honest with you. I still think about what you said in the garden and sometimes it affects me more than I would like. However, I would like to put it behind us but I want to know what you think.”

His eyes were sharp but you weren’t fooled this time. “Can we? Can we really put it behind us?”

 Namjoon was silent next to you, he was letting you handle it.

“I think we are already beginning to.” You took a deep breath in preparation. There was a question that could make or break this peace between you and you were both dreading and dying to ask. “Do you think that I’m taking advantage of them because I love them romantically?”

His eyes widened. “No,” he denied sharply. “No, of course I don’t.”

It was like a knot unravelling in your heart. Although there was a part of you that had known, the relief was still there. “Then we can move past it. We can try again. We are already trying again.”

“How?” Yoongi asked and he sounded smaller, much smaller than you were used to.

The pills were beginning to act, it was a light drowsiness at first. You had to do this quickly before you fell asleep and crumbled down on the floor.

“The same way we are doing now. By doing our best.”

“I am trying” His hands clenched into fists and loosened again. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. Not anymore. As long as I know that we are fine.” Your eyes were growing heavier and the fog was slipping in. “I think we should go to bed now,” you said. It was getting more and more difficult to open your eyes.

You must have stumbled or something because you heard Yoongi ask, “Are you alright?” at the same time as Namjoon’s “Do you want help?”

You waved them both off. “I’m fine. It’s the pills.” It was easier to admit when you were almost asleep. One moment your feet were on the floor and the next you were up in the air. “Joon?”

“I’m taking you to your room. It’s time for sleep.” One of his arms was under your knees and the other was holding you close to his body.

“Namjoon, I can walk,” you protested weakly. Namjoon shushed you and you let it go. You were so incredibly sleepy and you were safe there. You relaxed in his arms and finally closed your eyes.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Most of the flowers were drooping in the garden of the Castle. Namjoon and Jimin were attempting to keep them alive for as long as possible before fall swept them away. They cut off the dead leaves, watered the plants and applied the appropriate fertilisers. There were also varieties that lasted all year and the gardener had taught them how to take care of them too.

“These won’t last much longer,” Jimin said, running his fingers gently over the petals of a slowly wilting flower.

“They will bloom again in spring,” Namjoon reassured him. “Each season has its beauty and these belong to spring and summer. Autumn has its own colors too but they are different.”

Jimin pulled his hand back and grabbed the watering can. “I know, but I will miss them.”

Namjoon patted his head and Jimin preened under his touch, chasing his hand. He was too cute sometimes and Namjoon adored him. “It’s okay to miss it but you can also be happy about the new things that are coming. Miss Roberts said she will bring sunflowers and hydrangeas to plant next week, it will add some color. When something ends, something else begins.”

Jimin giggled, watering the flowers although they would be dead next week. “Nora has told you many times to call her by her name.”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his head. “I forgot. I’m trying.”

Yoongi came out of the house, a book in his hand. He had been visiting the library more lately. Namjoon had been wondering where he had been. The rest of the pack had holed up in the cinema room to watch a comedy and, like the two of them, Yoongi had opted out but they hadn’t seen him since.

“Yoongi!” Jimin called, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the watering can. “Come here. Sit with us, we are almost done.”

Yoongi paused, glancing at the table and benches on the other side of the garden.

“Come on,” Namjoon called for him as well. That was enough to sway Yoongi’s decision, who made his way to them.

Jimin bounced up to him, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the flower bushes they were tending to. Yoongi grumbled about the rough treatment but Namjoon wasn’t fooled, the upturn of his lips was small but unmistakable.

Jimin explained to him what they had been doing so far and Yoongi listened to him attentively.

“They are beautiful. You have been doing a really good job. Both of you,” he said, his eyes darting to Namjoon.

He was tense, it wasn’t obvious but Namjoon could pick it up. He gave him a smile, hoping he would relax. Yoongi confused him but he thought he could understand him a little better now. “Thank you. What are you reading?”

“Oh, this?” Yoongi raised the book a little and shrugged. “I saw it and I thought it was interesting.”

“I haven’t seen that before,” Namjoon said.

The cover was painted in shades of yellow and orange, framing two pyramids. Without saying anything, Yoongi handed him the book. It was called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho and it was a relatively short book. He turned it around to look at the synopsis and Jimin peeked at it over his shoulder. Namjoon wondered if you had read it or if it had been sitting there unread on your shelves for years. There were so many books in your library and you had admitted that you hadn’t read most of them, but you had also told them that once upon a time you used to read a hundred books a year.

“It does sound interesting,” Namjoon commented, passing back the book. “You should tell me if it is any good when you finish it.”

Yoongi looked down at the book’s cover. “I will.”

Jimin declared that they were done with gardening for the day and grabbed both of their hands, pulling them to the shade underneath one of the trees. They sat down and he situated himself with his head in Namjoon’s lap and his legs in Yoongi’s. Yoongi cracked open his book and began to read while Jimin talked about flowers.

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“And… CUT!” you called. It was repeated again by Will and the actors relaxed, the expressions of their characters wiped clean. “That will be it for today. Thank you everyone!”

The crew buzzed as the cameras and the sound systems were turned off. People were talking to their earpieces and others were giving pats on the back to each other for another successful day on set. Crew members passed by and offered their congratulations to you.

“What are you rushing for?” Will asked.

You continued throwing everything carelessly into your backpack. “I’m visiting the gallery today, remember?”

“Right, that’s today,” he said, snapping his fingers. Some things stuck with you in entertainment. For example, the overexaggerated gestures. “I thought you had a company meeting dressed like this. A very important one.”

In the morning, you had put more thought into your outfit compared to a simple filming day. You were wearing tan trousers and a form-fitting black top embellished by a crossover belt that wrapped around the body and was tied together with a golden Medusa head emblem. The heels, the golden earrings, bracelets, and rings confirmed that filming wasn’t the only thing on your schedule.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder (you would switch it later with a black Dior bag you had in your car). “No meetings for me today. I really have to go. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Have a good time, boss!”

You greeted any familiar faces on your way to your car and sent a quick message to Namjoon that you would be picking them up soon. The 8-seater car was an impulse purchase at a time when you had a larger friend group. You hadn’t used it much, only for a couple of short trips to private beaches.

You checked your appearance in the visor mirror and reapplied some powder and lipstick. You looked good enough, there wasn’t much more you could do.

The hybrids were waiting by the fountain. They had dressed nicely for the occasion, wearing some of the more formal outfits you had bought for them. You could feel the excitement in the air as they climbed into the car. It had been a long time since you had gone to the city like this. Jimin was quick to slide into the passenger seat, followed by a little happy dance at his success.

The exhibition was taking place in Central Los Angeles, housed in a tall and wide building that appeared to be made up of several cubes that jutted out of the main structure. Jungkook and Hoseok had their phones out, taking photos of the strange building. Distantly, you remembered coming here before but you couldn’t place when or why.

Eliana was waiting for you inside wearing a simple flowing blue dress and a large smile. You greeted each other with a hug and proceeded to introduce the boys to her. She shook their hands enthusiastically and in a few seconds she had already engaged them in a conversation about art. Usually, she talked quickly like she was rushing to get everything out before she forgot but she was talking slowly now, using simpler words and waiting for Hoseok to translate whenever he deemed he should.

She guided you through the gallery, floating ahead of you. She gave explanations of some of her works while she let others speak for themselves. Taehyung’s eyes were sparkling while she talked, in a way you had never seen before. His smile stayed on during your whole visit, big and boxy, and you finally felt like you were doing something right.

The other hybrids seemed to be enjoying themselves as well. Namjoon was asking plenty of questions about the meaning behind the paintings and her inspiration and Jungkook was very interested in the more technical aspect of her work. She readily answered all of their questions and when you pointed out that Jungkook spent a lot of his time painting, she encouraged him to show her some of his work. Although he was shy, hiding behind his floppy ears at first, Eliana managed to convince him to show her a few of the paintings he had on his phone. She was stunned when you told her he had only been painting for a few months and Jungkook grew even shier when she showered him in compliments.

At the end of the tour, she let you wander the gallery by yourselves for some time and then suggested going to the gallery’s gardens to hang out. The gardens were of considerable size, about as large as the inside of the gallery. Neatly trimmed flower bushes lined the pathways and plenty of modern sculptures decorated the space. A large fountain stood proudly in the middle and there was an artfully made gazebo raised on a platform at a far corner, overlooking the gardens.

You offered to go get some coffee and some baked goods from a nearby bakery/coffee shop you had found on the internet. Eliana protested at first but she gave in quickly at the promise of an iced Spanish latte and muffins. Namjoon volunteered to accompany you, although what surprised you was Yoongi offering to come along.

“You need more than two people to carry everything,” was the only explanation you got. You couldn’t deny that he was right.

He hadn’t been acting any different towards you since you had let him know about the nature of your relationship with Seokjin, so you acted the same way you always did too. His quiet acceptance was more than enough for you and it was a great weight off your shoulders.

You were talking about the exhibition, not surprised that Yoongi had been paying close attention to the paintings as he recalled his favorites, when a call of your name surprised you. The voice was familiar and, for a few seconds, you couldn’t place it. Until you could. And the peace froze over.

You turned around to find Jacob waving at you in the quiet street. His hair was cut much shorter than the last time you had seen him and his white loose pants and half-unbuttoned shirt made him look like he had just stepped off a yacht party. Maybe he had. His thousand-watt smile, reminiscent of a politician, was fixed firmly on his face.

“Hey, I knew it was you,” he said when he caught up with you, like he had won a prize. He pulled you into a quick hug and you didn’t know what to do with your hands until he let you go. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”

You wiped invisible dust from your trousers. “Yeah, I’ve been very busy.”

“You were never  one for rest, right? The woman always running, always working, never has time for anything else,” he joked and it shouldn’t bother you the way it did. He gestured to Yoongi and Namjoon, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Namjoon looked politely curious and Yoongi downright uninterested.

“Right,” you said. “This is Yoongi and Namjoon. And this is Jacob.”

Their eyes sharpened the moment you uttered the name.

“I’m just Jacob now?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “After three years? Not even a friend?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t like we’ve spoken since last year.”

Initially after your breakup, you used to imagine how your next meeting would go and how the two of you would act around each other. Three years was a long time to share your life with someone to then go back to being strangers. You hadn’t entertained the idea much since then, you had found yourself thinking about him less and less. Still, whenever you thought about meeting him, you hadn’t anticipated the bitterness that grazed your insides.

Jacob chuckled awkwardly. “Well, you said you were busy. I have been busy as well, I’m working with a few very big names, you know. I got my hands on some of the best songs of the year.”

“I’m sure they’re great.”

“Haven’t you listened to any of them? You must have heard a few of them. They were everywhere.” Jacob was talented enough and well-connected and he sure liked to brag about it. “I asked Zayn and he said you were doing well, working of course. And you got yourself some company too.”

You clenched your jaw to bite back the harshness burning on the tip of your tongue. You hated the way he said it and the way it reminded you of your mother.

“It was a bit of a surprise, I’ll admit. I don’t remember you ever talking about adopting, you didn’t seem a big fan of the idea. No offense of course,” he directed the last part to Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Things change,” you said dismissively. “We have to go. There are people waiting for us.”

Jacob’s smile didn’t falter but his eyes narrowed a fraction for only a second. He may only be part of your past but you could still read him well. Was it the same for him? Had he ever been able to read you in the first place?

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.”

You turned around and started walking, Namjoon and Yoongi following you. Last year you loved him enough to move in with him and this year you couldn’t stand to be in his presence. You thought you would feel nothing when you’d see him again but the truth was that everything about him irritated you. His poised smile, his bragging, his nonchalance.

Why was he able to get under your skin like this? You were over him, you didn’t want anything to do with him. But you were supposed to be civil, uninterested like the heroines who didn’t raise more than an eyebrow in the direction of their exes. It irked you and the way he looked at Namjoon and Yoongi irked you more. You had defended him to everyone, he wasn’t a bad guy, he didn’t treat you badly but as time passed you were starting to realize some things you couldn’t see clearly before.

Yoongi was the first one to speak up when you had almost reached the coffee shop, “What an asshole.”

“He isn’t–” You stopped yourself and laughed. “You know what? He is, a little bit.”

“A little bit?” he repeated, doubtfully.

“I don’t want to judge but…” The way Namjoon paused told you everything you needed to know. “I had to try very hard to stop myself from growling at him.”

Yoongi smirked. “Down, wolf.” Namjoon ignored him.

“Thank you for not doing that, that wouldn’t have ended well. Please, don’t growl at people.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that.”

Well, you couldn’t say that you minded that much. You could admit to yourself that Namjoon growling was kind of hot. And if the situation called for it…

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you,” Namjoon said. “It was weird. There was something about it that was wrong, almost demeaning.”

“He can be like that sometimes. Like he is above almost everyone else, like some things are beneath him. He would make those stupid comments and I would always try to ignore them,” He was always supportive of your career and proud of your success but he had never shown interest in any of your other hobbies and likes. Reading was boring, paintings were overrated and overpriced, drinking tea was pretentious. “I never thought I would be one of those shit-talking their exes unless they did something really bad.”

“I support this shit-talking,” Namjoon said.

“I do too,” Yoongi agreed.

It made a strangely pleasant feeling run up your spine. “We’re here,” you said, instead of continuing the conversation. According to Google Maps, you had arrived at the coffee shop.

As you walked inside, you might have heard Yoongi saying lowly to Namjoon, “I kind of wanted to punch him.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You were sitting on the chair in front of your vanity, braiding your hair and stuck thinking of the same scene. Before going to his room for the night, Taehyung had approached you and thanked you for taking him to the exhibition. His expression was sincere and you finally felt like you were moving in the right direction. 

When there was a knock at your door, you already knew who it was before you called for them to come in.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” Jimin asked, Jungkook draped over his back.

“When have I ever told you no?” you asked, finishing your braid and securing it in place with a silky scrunchy. “Go on.”

They both hopped on the bed, bouncing a little and sharing delightful smiles. You watched them through the mirror as they rolled around, holding each other.

Jimin looked up from where he was tangled with Jungkook, holding your gaze through his reflection. “Are you coming?”

“I am, I am,” you said, putting your brush back in the drawer.

You joined them on the bed, their hands quickly reaching for you and situating you between them like the last time. Jimin purred in contentment, rubbing his face in your collarbones. Jungkook held onto your arm and you could feel his breath caressing your neck with how close he was lying. 

An unwanted echo of what Jacob had said entered your mind.  Always working, never having time for anything else or anyone else, even the ones most important to you. You were gone most of the days and it made sense that they wanted to be close to you at least at night.

“Did you have fun today?” you asked them to distract yourself. 

“I loved it! Eliana was so nice and her paintings were incredible,” Jimin said.  “I took so many photos, my phone must be full of them.”

Jungkook nuzzled up closer to you. “I took many photos too. Can we print the one we took of us all together? I want to put it in our room.”

“Yes, please,” Jimin added cutely.

“Of course. You should print a couple more too, if you want, and choose some pretty frames for them. There is a lot of free space in your room.”

They cheered a little. You lied there in comfortable silence but you could detect a nervous energy in the air. It was in the way Jimin was fidgeting with the hem of your silk night shirt and how tightly Jungkook was gripping your arm. You waited until they were ready.

“We actually… we have something to tell you,” Jimin said.

“Anything you want, kitten,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. You could see how the use of the nickname affected him, squirming a little as his smile grew sweeter. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I just–” He looked at Jungkook, who gave him an encouraging nod. “I kissed him, we kissed. And… it makes me very happy.”

Jungkook caught Jimin’s hand that was pulling at your shirt and intertwined their fingers, laying their joint hands on your stomach. “He makes me very happy too,” he said in a small voice.

The new knowledge was like a puzzle piece sliding into place. It felt natural to you that their relationship would progress like that. The way they looked at each other, the way they touched each other, was evidence of a deeply intimate connection. If the image your mind conjured of them kissing lit a spark in your chest, you hid it even from yourself.

“Thank you for telling me. If it makes you happy, then I am happy too. All I want for you is to be happy and know how loved you are. Come here.” You pulled them closer and placed lingering kisses on their foreheads. “I will always support you. Always.” You took a decision then. You couldn’t put it off any longer. “I have something to tell you too. Jimin already knows but Jungkook, I would like for you to know too. I don’t know how to say this exactly and I’m sorry we’ve kept this from you but I, Namjoon and Jin have been romantically involved. All of us. We have been kissing too.”

“Oh.” Jungkook paused. “That makes sense.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that, Jimin joining you. “I mean you’re very close and it just makes sense. We’re pack and I think that most packs are a little in love with each other, in one way or another,” he said. His cheeks felt hot against your shoulder.

In one way or another. He was right, it was such a special bond and you could imagine that for hybrids who felt the sense of pack deeper, the lines were easily blurred. A door opened in your mind but you closed it again forcefully.

Jimin fit his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you. I love you so much, all of you. Our pack. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you. I don’t know if I deserve this.” His voice was wet.

“You do,” you stated. “You deserve everything and more. And we love you so much. So much.”

Jungkook squeezed his hand. “We love you, Jiminie. Our pack wouldn’t be complete without you. We need you to be whole. We need everyone.”

Their hands remained linked over your abdomen as you fell asleep.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#bts #bts x reader #bts hybrid au #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #bts angst #poly!bts x reader #bts poly #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts hurt/comfort #fluff

[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (5)

creature comforts:

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

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

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

→ word count: 4.8k

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

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

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

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 5: scars and soothers

“This is you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you know why.

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

But you flinch at his touch, jerking away.

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

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

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

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

Your face scrunches in confusion.

“Humanic as in human,” he elaborates.

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

Simple as that.

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

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

“They said...” you begin hesitantly.

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

“They said that they were monsters.”

Another pang of hurt thrums through their hearts.

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

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

Your stomach churns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You duck your head down, body stiff with nerves.

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

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

But how could you know that now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes snap open, shining with moisture.

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

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

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

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

Jin notices the signs immediately.

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

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

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

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

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

“Go ahead, let it out,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shower or bath?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin turns his head, and his stomach drops.

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

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

“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?” 

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

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

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

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

There’s shock plastered on both of your faces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod slightly.

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

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

Your shoulders gradually stop trembling, breath coming evenly now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that okay?” he asks.

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another breath releases from your lungs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know there are worse scars behind you.

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

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

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

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

A gentle knock on the door. 

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

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

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

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

You hurriedly slip them on to hide your disgusting body.

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

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

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

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

“Much better, hmm?” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This should settle your stomach,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin enters your field of vision again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footsteps recede, silence settles upon the room.

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

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

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

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts soulmate au #bts slow burn #bts supernatural au #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongkook #Bangtan ot7 #bts x female reader #ot7 x reader

[wittlebeary]

The Gem of the Seven Crowns ( X )

Dark Royals:

-> Poly OT7/Reader | Fantasy | Angst | Feels

Summary: It was simply supposed to be a night of pretend. Dress up and feel like a princess for a couple hours and dance with strangers hidden by masks never to see them again. Then it was back to reality because fairytales are only make believe after all. Y/N is about to discover that just because fairytales are make believe doesn't mean they're not true.

Prologue

The sun cast its warm rays down to a luscious field of grass splattered with every flower possible. Noises of laughter and playful shouting seemed to reach the furthest points of the never-ending field. Sitting on a white blanket were three men; one making flower crowns, one taking food out from a picnic basket and spreading it over the blanket, and the third in a light slumber his head resting on the leg of the man making the flower crowns. Not too far from the blanket four other men run around participating in what seems like a child's game of tag. The tallest among the four was being chased by the other three. A man with long black hair tied in a low ponytail kept together by a purple ribbon seemed to be the fastest closing the distance between the taller of the four and himself. The other two didn't seem as competitive as they were holding hands and only slightly running after the tallest.

"Gotcha Jin Hyung," Jungkook, the man with the ponytail happily yells tackling the tallest to the ground.

Jin very ungracefully falls to the grass wrapping his arms around Jungkook and bringing him down as well. The two break out into happy laughter panting trying to catch their breath. The other two reach up to Jin and Jungkook smiling seeing the two acting like children.

"You two better get up before bugs start covering you. Hobi Hyung will never give you snuggles again," the man with black hair and dark blue streaks chuckles holding out his hand for them.

"Hobi Hyung loves us too much to not snuggle us," Jungkook pouts getting up from the grass and brushing himself off for good measures.

"That's only cause you're the baby here. He won't snuggle Jin Hyung until he takes at least five showers. You know how he hates bugs. It's a miracle our TaeTae over here even convinced him to go on this picnic with us," Jimin says ruffling Jungkook's hair while Taeyhung helps Jin up.

The man with dark blue hair that is shoulder length smiles his boxy smile at them flustered by the praise. They all walk back to the blanket starving from all the running ready to dig into the delicious food.

"Aww is our little meow meow enjoying the sun?" Taehyung coos to the snoozing man who has his arms wrapped around the other man's leg trapping him to the blanket.

"Let Yoon-ah sleep TaeTae he had a long week with the other kingdoms. Go annoy Hob-ah," Jin gently scolds Taehyung Hobi holding out his arms for the pouting boy.

Like nothing Taehyung throws himself at Hoseok nuzzling into his chest that adorable boxy smile on him again. Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin sit on the blanket making sure to not disturb Yoongie. It was true, Yoongie spent all week trying to settle an agreement with a neighboring kingdom something. They could never do what Yoongie did, that is how good he is. Maybe Namjoon but he would probably get very overstimulated very quickly.

"Joon-ah those are lovely dear," Jin says sitting behind Namjoon gently pulling the taller and muscular man against his chest watching him weave flowers around one another to make a flower crown.

"I made seven for us. The ones I made last spring are wilting," Namjoon says checking his work before placing it on Jin's head smiling.

Jin fixes the crown gently pulling Namjoon's chin closer to him placing a tender kiss on his lips. Namjoon goes as red and tomato causing Jin to adore him that much more. How can one of the most feared sword masters turn into a flushed mess? It never amazed the seven of them how tough and cold they seemed to everyone, one compliment or kiss can undo them right there and then. Their kryptonite or weak spot. Namjoon gives the other six crowns out smiling bigger and bigger each time one of them puts them on. He puts Yoongie's crown to the side not wanting to disturb his Hyung.

"Give me my crown Joon-ah, I will not be without your crown you worked over three hours on them. Over my dead body will I ever not wear it," Yoongie grumbles waking up very much like a cat pointing to his head pouting, and crossing his arms.

Namjoon and the rest of the men chuckle at Yoongie as Namjoon places the crown gently on Yoongie's fluffy hair placing a kiss on his forehead. Everyone giggles and kisses all over his face too not wanting to get in on the action of making Yoongie a flustered mess. The seven of them all relax and dig into the beautiful lunch that Jin and Yoongie prepared for them. There is a moment of silence as everyone is just enjoying the food and the beautiful day free of any kingdom duties.

"We should have another ball," Taehyung says out of the blue swallowing the last of his pastry a little frosting on the corner of his lips.

"A party? A little random there isn't it? Why do you want a party with snobbish people trying to get our attention," Jimin asks from where he is lying against Yoongie's chest.

Jungkook leaned forward swiping the frosting from Taehyung's lip and placing it into his own mouth keeping eye contact with Taehyung the whole time making the second youngest cough in shyness busying himself with the crown he placed to the side.

"I don't know we haven't had a ball in so long and yeah it's not fun but I like to mingle! We need a break from seriousness all the time. Why should be able to let loose too and mingle around!" Taehyung huffs crossing his arms trying to sway them.

"Mingle you say? Is the seven of us not enough to placid you," Jungkook grumbles pulling Taehyung from the collar of his shirt so they are face to face pressing a kiss to his lips a little heat behind it.

The others roll their eyes at the two youngest watching them make out in front of them a smile on their face. Even though Jungkook was the youngest he did know how to handle himself. If he wanted something or someone he would get it in anyways mean. Taehyung gasped as Jungkook created a beautiful necklace of hickeys around Taehyung's neck smirking at his work.

"Okay okay enough before this turns into a orgy. Taehyung is right we should let loose. We will see about a ball, I'm not saying it will be a definite but we will see," Yoongie says pulling Jungkook into his lap and Taehyung into Hoseok's lap.

The two of them laugh nuzzling into the older enjoying the moment with the seven of them. They wouldn't want it any other way. They wish they could stay like this forever in this field but that is not reality so might as well soak it in now.

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #bts ot7 fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts royal #bts x female reader #BTS Jin #BTS Yoongie #BTS Hoseok #BTS Namjoon #BTS Jimin #BTS Taehyung #BTS Jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts fantasy au #first story

[bultaoreunheyyy]

Honey Bunny

Title: Honey Bunny

Word Count: 4221

Summary: It happens to him every year like clockwork, for just a few days around the beginning of spring when his pollen allergies start to act up and he decides to do some spring cleaning, forgetting that between all of the dust he inevitably kicks up inside of the house coupled with the blooming flowers and trees outside of the house will send him into a week of allergic misery.

Sickie: Taehyung (snz/allergies)

Caretakers: Jimin (platonic), Jungkook (romantic)

A/N: There is some slight sadness in this one (Jungkook is sad but he gets comfort and cuddles) and idk man, I was gonna do only a little drabble for this poll but then it turned out a bit longer and it turned into this this sooo. yeah. enjoy?

The late afternoon sun is shining brightly outside.

Taehyung knows this, despite the fact that he’s inside and curled up in his bed suffering miserably, because he can see it; from the small space between his window curtains, where they’re open just a little, there’s a bright beam of light shining through that’s aimed directly at the foot of his bed. 

More notably, Taehyung can see all of the teeny tiny little dust particles that are illuminated by said sunshine-beam of light, swirling in the air as they dance around his bed and tease him mercilessly, infiltrating his sinuses and torturing him–

hh–!

–torturing him endlessly with their irritating– 

hhhHH!

–ticklish existence, and–  

“HHHHRESH!”

Oh, the sneezing. Taehyung is so tired of sneezing. Taehyung is so, so tired of his nose tickling. Taehyung is so, so, so very tired of how awful his poor nose feels no matter how gently he tries to tend to it. It doesn’t matter if he uses the soft, silken handkerchief his beautiful boyfriend had bought for him or if he scrubs harshly at his nose with a fist, because both do nothing to alleviate the tickle and both only make his nose feel sore and raw.

It happens to him every year like clockwork, for just a few days around the beginning of spring when his pollen allergies start to act up and he decides to do some spring cleaning, forgetting that between all of the dust he inevitably kicks up inside of the house coupled with the blooming flowers and trees outside of the house will send him into a week of allergic misery. Really, he brought this on himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna lie in bed sulking as he sneezes his head off, feeling sorry for himself. 

“hhhhAAASHCH!”

He’s just very ready to be done with the sneezing part.

If he has any luck, the allergy medicine he took thirty minutes ago will kick in soon and knock him out for a few hours. Taking his handkerchief and dabbing at his tender nostrils, Taehyung rolls onto his back and tries to take in as deep of a breath as his congested airways will allow. He closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall open, breathing noisily through his mouth in an attempt to avoid taking in any air through his nose knowing that it will only trigger another sneeze.

He hears the apartment door open, and he opens his eyes in confusion– had he fallen asleep just now? It seems far too early for Jungkook to be home already, although wouldn’t complain about getting to see his boyfriend sooner than expected. 

“Kookie?” He croaks out hopefully. “Is that you?”

But it isn’t Jungkook who appears in the doorway of his bedroom. 

It’s his best friend Jimin, and the man frowns instantly when he sees Taehyung sniffling pathetically in bed. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” he cries, rushing over to Taehyung. “You look just awful, Tae.” 

“I know,” Taehyung agrees. He doesn’t even have it in him to be offended by Jimin’s observation. He knows that he looks like complete shit right now. He scrambles to sweep all of the crumpled up tissues that litter his bedspread off to the side or onto the floor.

Jimin, not even batting an eye at the mess, climbs into the bed and sits with his back against the headboard, and Taehyung scoots over to allow him more room. 

“If I had not spent the past ten spring seasons with you, I would think you have the flu right now,” Jimin continues, listening to Taehyung’s congested breathing and taking in the redness of his eyes and nose. He reaches out and brushes the tip of his thumb beneath Taehyung’s eyes, where there are dark circles, the skin puffy and swollen.

When he moves the tips of his fingers down to Taehyung’s nose, however, Taehyung’s face screws up, and he shakes his head frantically, jerking away.  

“Ohh– oh no– watch m-my nose, Jimin-hhh! hnghUHH! uhhh-HHHAAHH’SHUH!”

The first thunderous sneeze is quickly followed by a second, and then a third, each one preceded by a desperate, gasping breath. 

“iehh– HAASHCH! ehh-hhhHHH– hhh-AASH’TCH!” 

“Bless you!” Jimin locates the tissue box, which is nearly empty, and plucks out a tissue for his friend. 

While Taehyung wipes his streaming eyes and blows his nose, Jimin pets his hair soothingly. “Jungkook had to stay late. He wanted me to come check on you because he said you weren’t feeling well.” 

Taehyung sniffles. “What? Why does he have to stay late? Did he pick up another shift? Ugh, who called in?” He frowns and rubs a finger under his nose. “He said he wasn’t gonna pick up doubles anymore.”

Jimin hesitates, looking down at the bedspread and tracing the pattern with his thumb. “He didn’t pick up an extra shift, but he’ll be at the hospital for a couple of hours after he’s supposed to be off. He stayed with someone while they…They didn’t have any family members there with them, so…”

“Oh, no.” Tears spring to Taehyung’s eyes when he understands what Jimin is telling him. “Oh, no. Poor Jungkookie. My bunny is going to need me! Oh, why did I take the medication that makes me drowsy?”

“He’s gonna be fine, Tae,” Jimin rushes to reassure him. “He’s gonna need some extra hugs, yes. But he said he’s exhausted and he just wants to sleep when he gets home. It’s you he’s worried about.” 

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m fine. All I’ve been doing today is lying in bed and– a-and…”

Jimin passes him another tissue.

“hh-HHHRESH!”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Yes, you are completely fine.” He sighs. “Jungkook told me you decided to vacuum and dust on the same day. What on earth were you thinking, Tae?” 

Taehyung pouts through a trumpeting nose blow. “I was thinking that my bunny deserves to come home to a nice clean house after he works a twelve hour shift,” he replies. 

“Oh, your voice is starting to go,” Jimin tuts. “You need to rest some more. What can I get you before you take a nap?”

“Wait.” Taehyung sniffs, dragging the heel up his hand against his nostrils in an upward motion. “So you’re really not here to kick my ass out of bed?”

“No, love, absolutely not. You’re clearly not feeling well!” 

Jimin stands and cleans up the new pile of used tissues that’s been created since he arrived, gathering them up with the others on the floor before tossing the entire armful into the trash. Taehyung yawns while he cleans, finally feeling the effects of his medicine working. 

“Wish I could give my poor bun hugs and kisses right now,” he murmurs sleepily, sniffling. 

“He’ll be home soon enough,” Jimin assures him. “Scoot over a bit more. I’ll cuddle with you until you fall asleep.”

As soon as Jimin has him wrapped up in his arms, Taehyung starts to squirm. His nose hates him. It’s torturing him, trying to disrupt his best friend cuddle time and he tries to fight it as long as he can, tries to rub the tickle away from his sinuses, scrunches up his face and shakes his head back and forth and–   

Jimin suddenly lifts his head and looks down at him. “Go on and sneeze, already,” he snaps. Then, more gently, handing him a tissue with a sigh, “Get it all out.” 

And Taehyung does.

“AAAASHH!”

He sneezes.

“hhh-AHHHHSCH! HAAASSH-uh! UHHDSH-ehh!”

He sneezes some more, eyes and nose streaming, nostrils itching and twitching with every inhale.

“uh-HDCHSH! HRESHSH! hhhhhSHCHUH!”

Taehyung sneezes and sneezes, and Jimin holds him, until the fit dies down and he’s left sniffling miserably into a wad of tissues that are barely hanging on. 

“Have you considered seeing an allergist?” Jimin asks him, after Taehyung has caught his breath and is pouting against Jimin’s chest. 

“hh? hhhHH–! HSCHshoo!”

*

At some point, Taehyung falls asleep, because when he awakens he’s flat on his back and he has such a fierce tickle in his nose that he can’t even open his eyes.

“nnngghh’HNGSH!”

The sneeze comes out groggy and congested, and Taehyung sniffles miserably in the aftermath, still trying to wake up completely. When he finally gets his eyes open, he can see that it’s late, dark inside his room except for the glow from the small night light next to his nightstand. He’s so congested that his face feels heavy, and there’s something icy cold against his legs that makes him shiver. 

“Jimbi’d?”

But it’s not Jimin lying next to him, unless Jimin dyed his hair in the past few hours, and the person hasn’t moved an inch despite the disruption.

“Ju’gkookie?”

Jungkook stirs slightly when Taehyung says his name, but he only lets out a quiet sound, an exhale that puffs out across Taehyung’s skin. His arms are wrapped around Taehyung’s waist and his cheek is resting on his chest, and in the dim lighting he can see that the skin around his eyes is puffy. 

With a sad frown, Taehyung realizes Jungkook probably cried his poor heart out as soon as he stepped foot in the shower when he got home– even after years of working at the hospital, his boyfriend’s caring heart is still affected by every single loss.

He cranes his neck so he can press a kiss to the top of Jungkook’s head. “Oh, Bun.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around him but still doesn’t wake. 

The icy cold thing pressing against his legs turns out to be Jungkook’s feet, and Taehyung frowns with a new wave of concern when he realizes this. He lifts the blanket just enough to check if Jungkook is even wearing clothes, and is relieved to see that he’s wearing pajama pants at least. Apparently, all he did when he got home was take a shower before crawling into bed, not even bothering to put on socks or dry his hair properly. 

He runs his fingers through Jungkook’s still damp hair with a sigh, which triggers a fierce tickle in his sinuses that he tries to squash down by pressing his palm against his nostrils. Moving as slowly as he can, he pulls the blanket higher until it’s over Jungkook’s shoulders, and then quickly searches for the box of tissues, finding it above his pillow where Jimin thankfully left it within his reach.  

Continuing to card his hand slowly and soothingly through Jungkook’s hair, Taehyung clamps the tissues over his nose and breathes solely through his mouth– not a difficult feat considering how stuffed up he already is– and rolls them both over slightly so they’re more on their sides. When he feels his sinuses are in control for the time being, he switches the tissue to his other hand and wraps an arm around Jungkook.

Jungkook snuggles into the warmth and Taehyung smiles. His face is buried in Taehyung’s chest, nose right between his pecs, which is why only a moment Taehyung suddenly regrets it– the tickle in his nose returns and his breath hitches suddenly, chest quaking as the sneeze builds rapidly.

“hh-HH! hihh…hh-h-h–!”

The movement of his chest jostles Jungkook’s head, and he moans softly and begins to stir awake. 

“hhh…”

Taehyung scrunches up his entire face.

“hhHH! h! hh-ihh–!”

He presses his tongue firmly against the roof of his mouth.

“nhh…uh-hehhh! hh-hh-hHH–!”

Breath hitching erratically, Taehyung brings his hand up to cup the back of Jungkook’s head, holding him against his chest so he’s not jostled around any further. He lifts the hand holding the tissue to his face as slowly as he can, as if any sudden movement will set the sneeze off, and rubs it against his nose with determination.

Rubbing his nose with the tissue only seems to make the tickle spread more. His breath catches sharply and he lets the tissue fall from his grip, jamming a finger under his nose instead to try to stop the sneeze.

It does not work.

“HDXCHT!”

He sneezes once, a booming sound despite trying to stifle it, and Jungkook doesn’t even react. A soft, amused chuckle falls from Taehyung’s lips when he realizes that his boyfriend is still sound asleep. 

But there’s another sneeze building, and Taehyung knows it will bring its friends with it, and as much as he’d like to think he’s able to hold them back he knows that realistically he can’t. 

“AAAASHH!” Sure enough, another sneeze bursts out of him not ten seconds later, followed soon by several more. “hhh-AHHHHSCH! UHHDSH-ehh! hhhSHCHUH! Ugh, ohh–hh’ERSHSH!”

He’s sniffling against the aftermath of the fit when he feels a kiss pressed to the base of his throat.

“Bless you,” comes Jungkook’s sleepy, raspy voice. “Love you.”

“Oh,” Taehyung giggles congestedly when Jungkook’s breath puffs out against his neck, ticklish. “Hey, you. I love you too.” With a slightly dramatic and quite unproductive sniffle, Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook, protective. “Love you so much. And I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I tried reeeally hard not to sneeze, baby.” 

Jungkook yawns. “’S okay,” he murmurs. “If I minded I would have slept in my own bed.” He presses his nose under Taehyung’s jaw and breathes in deeply. 

“You should have slept in your own bed. You would have slept so much better.” Taehyung reaches out to swipe his thumb under the dark circles under his eyes.

Jungkook yawns again. “Mm. You needed cuddles. You’ve been miserable all day and I wasn’t here to cuddle you.” Yawning a third time, he brings a fist to his face to rub at his eye and then tucks his arms back under the blankets, pulling them tighter around himself.

“Are you cold, baby?”

Jungkook nuzzles into his pillow. His eyes are closed again and he doesn’t respond.

Taehyung starts to untangle himself so he can go grab another blanket, but Jungkook whimpers as soon as he sits up, snaking an arm around his waist and holding on tightly. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers, so quietly that Taehyung almost doesn’t hear him. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Taehyung quickly reassures him, lying back down and wrapping his arms around the younger man with a frown. “I’m right here, baby.”

“Don’t go,” Jungkook repeats.

“Oh, baby,” Taehyung cood. “My bunny. I love you so much. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, okay?”

Jungkook nods against him and then stills in Taehyung’s arms. Taehyung thinks he might be crying, but he’s not sure, and Jungkook’s breathing is quiet and even for several minutes. 

Once Jungkook has fallen asleep, Taehyung closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep himself, sniffling against a now runny nose and then feeling his heart drop when it causes him to sneeze again.

“HHDSH-ehh!”

The sneeze makes Jungkook jump. “Bless you,” he murmurs, but then he’s asleep again a minute later. 

*

Eventually, after a few hours of restless sleep, Taehyung has to get out of bed because he needs to blow his nose and he’s out of tissues, and he can’t find his handkerchief from earlier anywhere. He also needs his next dose of allergy medicine. But mostly, he gets out of bed because he needs to sneeze again and he doesn’t want to risk waking Jungkook up at all.

It’s easy to extract himself from Jungkook’s embrace this time. He makes his way out to the kitchen, sitting at the counter and resting his head on his arms. As soon as he does, he’s sneezing, not bothering to cover his face because he’s a bit too tired for that. 

“uh-HDCHSH! HRESHSH! hhhhhSHCHUH!” 

Taehyung checks the time on the oven and sees that it’s only 3 in the morning. Unsure if he’ll be able to fall back asleep, Taehyung decided to take his medicine and eat breakfast instead– he had accidentally skipped dinner the night before, so now both his sleep schedule and his meal schedule are thrown off.  

Jungkook pads out to the kitchen an hour later to find Taehyung finishing up a bowl of cereal that he’s been very slowly munching on, struggling to eat with how congested he is.

“You sound like you have a cold,” he worried, sliding onto the stool next to Taehyung with a loud yawn. “I could hear your stuffy breathing from down the hall.” He pauses, resting his head on one hand and staring at Taehyung’s profile. “Are you sure you don’t have a cold?”

Taehyung pushes his nearly empty bowl away and turns to face Jungkook. “It’s you I’m worried about catching a cold. What are you doing without socks or a shirt on?” He frowns. “And you went to sleep with damp hair.”

Jungkook yawns and drags a hand over his face. “You’re overreacting.” 

“You know how easily you catch a ch-chill– ohh–! hhh-AASH’TCH!”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, unamused. 

With an irritated sniffle, Taehyung frowns again. “Okay, that was bad timing,” he mutters. “But, you really are more susceptible to catching colds, bun.” 

“Mmhmm. And you’re more susceptible to pollen and dust particles?” Jungkook teases. Then, his face softens. “How are you feeling, by the way? When I left for work yesterday you sounded so bad. I knew you were gonna have a rough day.” 

Taehyung nods and swipes a finger under his nose. “I’ve mostly just been really sneezy. Jimin came over– oh, you already knew that,” he chuckles. “You sent him to check on me.”

Jungkook nods and yawns again into a fist.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung rests his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “He told me about what…he told me why you had to stay late for work.”

Jungkook hums and Taehyung can feel the vibrations against his cheek.

“You work tomorrow too, right? Or– today?”

Looking at his phone, Jungkook nods. “Yep. I have to be at work in three hours.”

“Do you have to?” Taehyung whines.

Jungkook stiffens, looking worried. “Why? Do you think you’ll be okay here on your own? Or does it feel like it’s going to be another bad day?”

Taehyung lifts his head and shakes it. “No, I just mean–”

“Have you been taking your medication? And using the handkerchief I bought?”

Jungkook stands and makes his way to the front door, returning shortly with a small black bag that has Taehyung rolling his eyes. 

“You’re not seriously gonna give me a check up right now?” He asks, but Jungkook only continues.

He pulls out a penlight and a stethoscope from his bag. “Is your throat sore? You’re so congested, babe. Are you sure it's just allergies?”

Taehyung glares, but opens his mouth obediently when Jungkook asks him to. “Yes, I’m sure!” 

Jungkook taps underneath Taehyung’s chin and holds up his penlight. “Tilt your head up for me?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung warns. He can feel his nose tickling again already. “I swear, if you shine that light up my nose, I’m gonna sneeze on you.” 

Jungkook shines the light up his nose anyway. “I work in healthcare, babe. Do you really think I’m worried about something like that?” 

“Kook,” Taehyung whimpers. “N-no, really, I’m gonna– hhh-AASH’TCH!”

“Everything is so swollen,” Jungkook murmurs, still trying to get a look up Taehyung’s nose as he snorts and snuffles. “But, your throat isn’t inflamed, so I think it’s just allergies.” 

“hhdh’ISHSHCH! HIIIHXSH! Ugh. I already know it’s just allergies!” 

Biting his lower lip, Jungkook tucks everything back into his bag. “I can send Jimin over to check on you again.”

Taehyung shakes his head, but he’s still not done with his own line of questions. “Do you have to go in to work?” He repeats. Before Jungkook can respond, he holds a hand up. “Not because of me. You’re exhausted. You’ve barely slept, and you had to stay late, and you had a hellish time at work yesterday.”

A long moment passes before Jungkook responds. 

“It’s part of the job, Taehyung.” His voice is soft, almost far-away sounding. His shoulder slump and he clears his throat. “One that I knew about when I went to med school. I will be fine.”  

He suddenly shivers visibly and wraps his arms around himself, and Taehyung frowns. 

“Not if you catch a chill, you won’t be fine.” Taehyung clicks his tongue. “You probably wouldn’t even stay home from work for that either, though,” he grumbles as an afterthought.

“Why do you sound so old fashioned?” Jungkook laughs. “What exactly do you consider to be “a chill”, hm?” He shakes his head. “If I come down with a cold, it will have nothing to do with the fact that you’re keeping the temperature in here so low.” 

He shivers again, and Taehyung points an accusing finger at him. “So you are cold!” He marches over to the thermostat, grinning triumphantly when he sees the number. “The temperature is exactly where you set it, bun. It’s not cold in here.” 

Jungkook pouts, then, his stubbornness giving way to the exhaustion that’s trying so desperately to cling to him.  

“Stop teasing me,” he whines. “I’m just cold because I’m sleepy.”

Taehyung is immediately back in front of Jungkook, wrapping his arms around him. “I know, bunny.” 

He leans forward and kisses the tip of Jungkook’s nose. When he pulls away, Jungkook blinks sleepily at him, a small smile on his face. Taehyung lifts his hand to caress Jungkook’s cheek and the younger man closes his eyes at the touch. 

“My poor, sleepy bunny,” he coos before kissing his nose once more. 

“Now,” Taehyung continues, voice firmer. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to order us food because we need to eat properly. And then you are going right to bed and sleeping until your alarm goes off for work. I will sleep in my own bed so I don’t disturb you.” He pauses, rubbing at his nose and sniffling as if to demonstrate the potential ways Jungkook might be disturbed. “When you get off work tomorrow– or, tonight, technically– we will cuddle the fuck out of each other. Sound good?”

“Did you say cuddle each other and fuck each other?” Jungkook smirks. “Yeah. Sounds so good.” 

Taehyung raises an eyebrow and looks down at his phone screen, placing an order for food delivery from a place that’s open 24/7. “Okay, sure. Let’s see how tired you are when you get off work.” He wrenches to the side with a sudden sneeze. “AHH’SHUH! Ugh. Or, how sneezy I still am.”  

After they eat, Jungkook gives Taehyung a dose of allergy medicine and then produces two clean handkerchiefs plus an unopened box of tissues. He makes him drink a full glass of water and then sets him up with another glass on his nightstand. 

“I really hope you’re feeling better later today,” he tells Taehyung, kissing the tip of his reddened nose fondly. 

Taehyung leads Jungkook to his bedroom and tucks him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. Sometimes, he thinks it’s silly that they each have their own room, since they sleep in the same bed more often than not, but it’s times like this when he’s thankful Jungkook will have a quiet place to rest, even if it’s just for a couple more hours.  

He falls asleep quickly once he returns to his own bed, stomach full of food and dosed with more medication. He’s confused when he wakes up about two hours later to a shuffling sound and then a quiet whisper. 

“Tae?”

Jungkook’s voice is hoarse– like he’s been crying, Taehyung realizes with a pang of sadness. 

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose, and then bobs forward with a tired, congested sneeze that feels more like a reflex than a response to any irritation. “hgshh-ahh!”

“Bless you.”

“Jungkookie?” Taehyung rubs at his eyes. “What time is it?”

Jungkook just wordlessly climbs into Taehyung’s bed, pulls the covers nearly all the way up over his head, and wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist. He tucks his face under Taehyung’s chin, nosing along his jaw and sniffing, breathing in his scent for a minute, and Taehyung smiles.

“Sweet bunny, why are you awake?” 

Still silent, Jungkook buries his head in Taehyung’s chest. He doesn’t move after that, his breathing evening out into a quiet, rhythmic pattern. 

“I called in to work,” Jungkook whispers just as Taehyung is sure he’s fallen back asleep.

“What? Why? Are you feeling okay?” Taehyung pulls back so he can peer down at Jungkook, but Jungkook follows him, keeping his face pressed against his chest like he’s hiding. 

“Oh, Jungkookie,” Taehyung whispers, burying his face in Jungkook’s hair. 

And then immediately jerks away when Jungkook’s hair tickles his overly sensitive nose.

“Nnn-no– hhh! Shit, s-sorryhhh– ihhhh’HIIIXSH! HHHRESH! uh-HIIISHSH! uh-hhhHHH-HIIISHSH!” 

The four enormous sneezes leave him with a pounding headache and a runny nose and he immediately starts to apologize until he hears a strange noise- and it takes him a moment of sniffling and catching his breath before he realizes that it’s the sound of Jungkook chuckling very softly into his chest, mouth open and hot puffs of air coming out with each breath that Taehyung can feel through his shirt.

“Bless you,’ Jungkook murmurs after a moment. He snuggles even closer. “Love you.” 

Taehyung, pulling Jungkook as close as he possibly can, closes his eyes and smiles so wide his face hurts. “I love you too, honey bunny.” 

#bts sickfic #bts snz #allergy fic #allergic taehyung #taehyung snz #sick taehyung #caretaker jungkook #taekook au #bts au #mild angst #jungkook is sad #bts hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

[bangtaninborderland]

JHS- TWISTED FEELINGS (14)

Summary: After working at an award show for 2 years everything had become normal, idols were no longer exciting to see, performances became dull and every day blended together, that was until an unexpected man asked for your help.

Warning: mentions of stalking

A/N: I started university im writing this on the train home after I woke up at 4 am (currently 7:30pm) I have had 2 hours sleep and I’m drained I literally forced this out of my brain sorry if it sucks. I appreciate you.

Ch.13 | MasterList | Ch.15

It took three hours for them to pry the doors open and help lift you out. You weren’t completely at the 5th floor, you’d dropped between the 5th and the 4th so the gap to escape was small, you had caught your hip on the door leaving a nasty cut and you were sure that you had a few bruises but thankfully nothing too serious.

The on-hand medical team rushed to Hoseok and Yoongi first, both of whom escaped unharmed with a scratch or two to their hands. You were about to ask them to check you over when Yoongi was already whispering to Sejin, you had no doubt it was about the stalker when his eyes fell on you, a mix of both surprised and confused.

He called you over and you did your best to walk normally, your hip felt as though it was on fire but you ignored it. Of course, there were bigger issues than your measly injuries, regardless of how much they hurt.

“I think we should go to my office.” Sejin cleared his throat, eyeing both you and Yoongi before tutting and turning around his frame becoming further away as he walks away. Yoongi was closely behind him and you were dragging your feet as you followed the pair.

Even under the circumstances you rather liked Sejin's office, the little Knick knacks, plants, random signed albums and photographed achievements scattered around the room made it feel homely. The office was similar to the members’ personal studious just without the music equipment, there was a desk, a couch, and a table. Every room in the building seemed to be made for comfort, as though the staff were always there and needed a place to relax.

“So, Yoongi-ah has said there is a stalker. Please explain.” He sighs, rubbing his temples.

You wince a little as you shift your weight onto your other leg, a failed attempt at reducing the pain you felt over your side. You recounted the story, of how the stalking started, how it continued all up to this current point.

Sejin looked at you, as though analysing to determine the weight of your explanation before he huffed and pulled his glasses off, dropping them on the desk with a thud. “What am I supposed to do here YN? The second I bring this to the senior board they are going to want you out.”

“I know.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to be the reason anyone gets put in danger. I understand that this is bigger than me and I’m okay wi-“

“Absolutely not.” Hoseok burst into the room, opening the door with a thud. “She’s just as much a victim here.”

“Yes but she’s currently the target, I can’t guarantee your safety if there’s a stalker walking around,” Sejin argued.

You understood where he was coming from, you truly did, but you were equally as thankful for Hoseok defending you. You hadn’t missed the way yoongis frown deepened when Sejin had mentioned letting you go.

It was comforting if nothing else.

“I can give you a good recommendation for another employer if that helps but I don’t see a way I can guarantee everyone’s safety.”

“Her contract protects her too.” Yoongi mumbled.

“What?” Hoseok asked, leaning over to hear better.

“She signed a contract, I’ve seen the employee contracts. She has just as much right to protection as any artists do, she didn’t exactly ask to be stalked.”

“Yoongi-ssi I understand what you’re saying but we also have clauses that allow us to terminate employment should it become an issue between artists and staff.”

“And it’s not an issue,” Hoseok spoke before you could even open your mouth.

Sejin sighed, leaning back in his seat. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that it’s not an issue. All the members will agree.” Hoseok was firm but you very much doubted that they would all agree on risking their privacy for you.

“If we were to all agree, could she keep her job?” Yoongi asked, shooting Hoseok a look you could t decipher.

Sejina frowned smoothed out. “I guess, if you all refuse another staff member I wouldn’t have much choice and neither would the board but I’d have to call a meeting and hear your opinions individually.”

“I don’t want to cause all this trouble.” You look between the three men in the room. “I understand and I’m not mad. I’ll accept the consequences and I want to make an apology to the rest of the members for hiding something that could have severely affected their lives.” You made to stand, too embarrassed to deal with the situation when a knock on the door stops you.

“Come in.” Sejin calls out. You recognise namjoons hair before you see his face. “Namjoon-ssi?”

“Hobi texted me. I thought as the leader I should be here.” He pressed his lips together, clearly unsure what to do.

“Take a seat Namjoon-ssi.” Sejin nods towards the set of empty chairs against the wall, Hoseok sits beside him. “Hoseok would like for you all to agree against us terminating our contract with YN.”

“Hoseok texted me the details, I just don’t agree with the idea of firing someone who has been an innocent party subjected to the very thing you hope to protect us from.” Finally, all the raving on Naver you’d seen about Namjoon being the best leader made sense, he carried himself well.

“So you and the other members are willing to accept the risks that come with keeping YN employed?” Sejin challenged.

“We aren’t accepting risks, we are accepting YN as a member of our staff and we are accepting that the company will deal with the risks without firing anyone.” Namjoon reaffirms.

You kept quiet, staring at a spot on the desk, unsure what to say or do. “Okay, I’ll talk to the board and call a meeting. Namjoon-ssi if you could call the others it would be a great help.”

Sejin leaves the room, hand in clutch, leaving you alone with the three members. You cleared your throat. “Thank you all for defending me but really I don’t want to put you all in danger.”

“You’re not putting us in danger if anything the company should have been protecting you better from the day you started working here.” Hoseok protests.

“I can’t thank you all enough.” You mustered as bright a smile as possible. “I will really be okay if the others don’t agree with it, this is more than enough.”

“Do you want to lose your job?” Yoongi asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“No, of course not Yoongi-ssi.” You shook your head, that was the last thing you wanted.

“Then accept the help, it’s fine. We enjoy working with you, especially Hoba and Jungkook.” Yoongi sighed.

You couldn’t help but look towards Hoseok, the man just giving you a small smile. “Okay, I’m grateful.” You smiled back.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner?” Namjoon asked, pocketing his phone. You guessed he had just finished texting the others seeing as Sejin had asked him to contact them.

“I was scared. I didn’t want to burden anyone with it and I was scared someone would hurt my parents.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, in all honesty, those worries were only amplified now the secret was out. Not to mention the pain in your hip making everything worse but of course, you couldn’t say anything about that no. Especially since everyone is already going above board to help you. “I’m sorry for hiding something that could have affected you.”

“What made you tell someone today?” Yoongi asked his time.

“I didn’t want to die in that elevator and my friend be hurt and my parents alone, unable to defend themselves, though I doubt whoever it is would continue to pursue my family if I was to die. They seem to want me away from you.”

“It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen.” Hoseok shrugged, the lack of surprise on their faces made you wonder just how badly they have been treated by supposed fans.

“Do you think they know where you live?” Hoseok mumbles.

“Yeah, they knew my parents’ address and that would have been harder to find than mine.” You had accepted it the second NaRae had told you about the photos. “It’s okay though.”

“Does your apartment have security?” Namjoon wonders.

You rub the back of your neck, chuckling. “Uh…no?”

“You’ll have to move then.” He sighs. “The company can help with that.”

“Oh no seriously, it's fine.” You reassured themed unable to exactly say you needed to live there due to the discounted rent.

“The company has helped house staff before. They have contracts with apartment buildings that ensure privacy and security. If one of us ever comes to your apartment no one will know. If it makes you feel better think that it’s more for our safety than yours and because you’re a staff member that we will be with continuously, especially since Nicole may be leaving.

You already knew whatever contracts they had were for apartments way out of your affordability range. “That’s a really kind offer but I can’t accept that.”

“Why?” Hoseok frowns. “That’s the only way it’s safe for all of us. Someone could break into your apartment and attack you. What if I dropped you to your apartment and someone followed me? They would know my address.”

You pursed your lips, sighing when you couldn’t think of a response. “I didn’t think about that. I just don’t think it will be possible to…” you trail off, not wanting to explain why.

“Is it about your dad?” Hoseok asks. “I can make sure it’s somewhere close, closer even, and a car can pick you up. It’s no different than the taxis you take every day.”

Although you felt happier at the idea of being closer to your parents, especially since your dad's heart attack, you wouldn’t be able to afford it. You’d rented the place through a friend, it wasn’t the most expensive because you’d been given a discount and in all honesty, it was a nice apartment. “It’s not so much that, the place I have now it’s good, it’s secure. I already have a lease.”

You could break your lease, it was non-conditional but they didn’t know that.

“I’ll pay for it to be broken.” Hoseok offered, earning a glaring look from Yoongi. “It’s not safe there, if money is the issue then I’ll help, the company will cover some.”

“Hoseok-ah maybe you’re overstepping.” Yoongi softened his tone.

“I can’t and won’t accept that.” You had never accepted financial help and you definitely weren’t about to. “I can make it work financially.” You lied.

“The company can help you break your lease, so don’t worry about that,” Namjoon reassured you, taking some weight off of your shoulders.

You’d make it work, even if it meant cutting back and getting a second job. Maybe you could tutor kids? You had a few things you could sell and you had a small portion of savings that you could direct to paying whatever rent you needed to cover. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Hoseok broke out in a smile, one that almost made you forget how dangerous and stressful things were.

The door opened, and Sejin stepped inside. His hair was a little dishevelled as though he had been running his hands through it. “The board has agreed to have a meeting.” He looked towards Namjoon. “Did you manage to contact the other members?”

“Yes, Jungkook and Taehyung are just finishing up some vocal practice, Jimin is on his way and Seokjin Hyung is just finishing a life.” Namjoon recited.

“We can move this to a bigger room, a few board members want to weigh in. The security team too.” Sejin held the door open, an indication for everyone to leave. “It’s room 382.”

“I know where it is. I remember it from the meeting last week I’ll take us there.” Hoseok takes the lead, you fall behind the others trying not to limp as a dull pain throbs through your leg.

You had already ruled out taking an elevator for the rest of your life so you were both thankful and internally groaning when Hoseok led the way to the staircase, your hip not liking the idea of stairs very much.

Sejin and Hoseok were talking amongst themselves as they took their seats at the table, you lingered in the doorway before Hoseok pointed to the seat beside himself.

You felt awkward as people flocked into the room, firstly the members, someone you were sure was Bang PD and one of the heads of the security team. The members walked in one at a time, taehyung a few minutes behind jimin, Jungkook coming after Seokjin. They all settled down after a few hellos.

“Right, this is a little bit of a situation isn’t it?” The man at the head of the table laughed, you managed a small smile.

That was definitely Bang Si-Hyuk. “Once again I went to apologise for causing all this trouble.” You look between the faces at the table, wanting them to understand your sincerity.

“These things happen, it’s not something we cause ourselves. We have dealt with far worse so let’s not ponder on any more unnecessary apologies.” Bang Si-Hyuk spoke.

“We all agree that we want YN-ssi to keep her job despite the possible security risks,” Jungkook added.

Both Taehyung and Jimin nodded along with him in agreement, Seokjin however did not. “Are we sure about this?”

Everyone turned to him, Yoongi and Hoseok both looking thoroughly confused. “What do you mean Hyung?”

“YN-ssi hasn’t worked here long and although I’m sure some of you have formed friendships I’m sure they could be maintained outside of work but this is our entire career, our lives, our family's lives in danger of being exposed. Taehyung-ah, Namjoon-ah, do you really want your siblings to be exposed? There’s already images floating around of my parents and I don’t know if I can risk any more.”

Once again, you couldn’t find yourself angry or upset. You had a family to protect too.

“It won’t come to that.” The man from the security department intervened. Minhyung was his name, you were sure. “We have a few options for secured housing, we will be installing scanners into the public spaces in the building to detect photography. Whoever takes any pictures without consent from the other party will be called in for a meeting and from now on a designated car will take YN to and from work. We cannot do anything outside of this as we are still limited but anything work-related we can protect. Social media monitoring will be increased in anticipation of any backlash or further threats. Any private information that is leaked will be removed instantly. As the situation is only small scale we are able to prevent it from escalating.” He finishes with a smile to both you and Seokjin.

Thankfully, the singer seems pleased with this and agrees. “Okay, then I agree.”

“Great. We will have to Increase your personal security too for a while.”

There’s a series of groans from a few members.

“I know.” Bang Si-hyuk interrupts. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry so no outside dates, if you want to just inform the security team and they can coordinate something, no wandering alone in populated places, and keep any identifiable marks covered.” He lists.

“So you mean my tattoos?” Jungkook pouts. “I hate covering them.”

“I’m-“ you start but he holds up a hand.

“Don’t finish that, please. One time we had to be herded around in the middle of the night by security to another hotel because of someone.” He gives a pointed look at Jimin. “Leaked our hotel.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.” The other rolls his eyes. “It was a camera slip.”

“Tell that to hyungs dribble pillow.” Jungkook snickered.

Seokjin slapped the younger on the arm. “If you ever want me to make you any form of food ever again don’t ever bring that up.”

“Hey YN-ssi,” Taehyung called your attention. “Do you know about Seokjin Hyung's dribble pillow?”

You shook your head, teeth nibbling into your lip to stifle a laugh at the interaction between the group. “No, I haven’t.”

“Basically after Jiminie here leaked our hotel room security woke us at 1 am to move hotels but Seokjin Hyung hadn’t been sleeping and had a cold so he was breathing with his mouth open, he was so tired in the car he laid on Yoongi Hyung and literally soaked his shoulder in spit.” Taehyung laughed, instantly standing up to dodge the pillow Seokjin had thrown at him.

“That was private!” He huffs, slumping back in his chair. “Sorry, you have to witness this YN-so. They have no home training.”

“But…” Jungkook leaned forward. “…hyung you kind of like raised me when I moved from Busan so does that mean YOU have no home training?”

“Are we done here?” Seokjin asks Bang Si-Hyuk. Completely disregarding a laughing Jungkook.

“As long as you all agree to the security rules. YN-ssi I’ll need you to stay behind to discuss apartments with the security team. The rest of you are free to go.” He dismisses, settling in his seat.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hoseok called over to you.

You gave him a smile nodding, you felt better discussing apartments without the members there. Maybe then you could explain financially you had to be careful. “I’ll be okay, please go and do whatever you need to.”

“Find me after okay? I’d like to talk to you?” He asked.

“I will.” You smiled again, this time a little more real. It always made you feel good when people wanted to spend time with you, loneliness was an easy emotion to experience and it made you feel like less of a burden when someone asked you to spend time with them.

“Okay.” He accepted your promise, flocking out of the room behind the other members. All of them budding you with some sort of goodbye.

“So Yn-ssi. We have made a list of apartments all in different areas and price ranges. They are probably more than what you’re paying now but they are closer to your parents’ address. I hope you don’t mind we pulled it from the emergency contact that you listed on your employee details.” The security lead passed you a small packet of papers, each page containing information and images of different apartments.

You looked through it at bang PDs assurance that there was no rush. The rent on every apartment was over your budget but some were better than the others. It wouldn’t be as difficult as you presumed to cover it, you’d have to get another job but it would be manageable. You’d settled on a two-bedroom apartment, it was a huge upgrade from what you already had. The addition of 24-hour security and a front desk with a 24-hour attendant made you feel drastically better. You could always convince your parents to stay at yours now you had the spare room and if they didn’t want to then you were much closer to them and could see them daily.”

You informed the pair of your decision and Bang PD has explained that he would contact them and arrange for you to sign the papers in person within the week. Thankfully the meeting passed without any issue, wrapping up some minutes later after finalising some smaller details. “Thank you for going to such great lengths to keep me safe. I can’t explain how grateful I am but I promise to be an employee that works hard.” You bid them both goodbye, the meeting feeling far less formal and awkward than you had thought it would be.

Once you were away from the room you pulled out your phone texting Hoseok.

You: I finished the meeting. Where are you?

JHS: my studio, door is open. 😊

You pocketed your phone, thankfully remembering how to get to his studio from this floor of the building with there only being one flight of stairs between them.

The door was propped open by a small figurine, you pushed it open, a little taken aback to see Hoseok and Seokjin sitting on the small couch.

“Yn-ssi.” The eldest stood to greet you, a look of what could only be deciphered as a concern in his eyes.

“Seokjin-ssi.” You bowed back to him before turning to Hoseok. “Hoseok-ssi.”

“It’s still okay for you to be informal with me if you’re comfortable. I promise no one will be upset about it.” Hoseok reassures, clearly noticing the way you had been switching to a more formal conversation whenever others had been present.

In your defence, you did have a job to protect and unprofessionalism is never rewarded.

“Please don’t feel like you have to be uncomfortable because of me,” Seokjin interjects.

“Oh no of course not.” You rush to explain. “I just didn’t want anyone to feel as though I was being unprofessional.”

“Everyone here is pretty informal. The longer you’re here the more comfortable things feel so it feels weird to talk so formally after a while. Usually when cameras are on we maintain it but we have staff that’s been here since we made our debut and they have become like family.” Hoseok shrugs, taking the worry away from you slightly.

“Okay then, I’ll try to be less formal with you Hoseok-ssi.”

“Oppa.” he argued.

You hear seokjin stifle a laugh as he resumes his seat on the couch.

“Okay.” You smile.

“Okay?” Hoseok asks again.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Yes?” He questions, his voice higher towards the end.

“Yes oppa.” You laugh, finally giving in.

“Great.” He claps his hands. “Now.” He turns to Seokjin.

“Please sit.” He motions to the chair placed opposite the couch.

You accept the seat, sitting more so on your side to prevent weight from falling upon your hip. “Is everything okay?”

“I wanted to apologise. I just worry about the protection of those closest to me. I didn’t think about how you too were risking people you cared about by coming to the company and telling them.” Seokjin's voice holds a sincerity that throws you off guard.

“Please don’t apologise.” You start. “I have people to protect yes but you also deserve privacy and to be honest in that elevator I was scared not just for my parents and my friends but for you all. Although I’m sure if I did die it probably would have been forgotten.”

“Don’t say such things.” He scolded. “It was a selfish thought of me to ignore that you were stalked in favour of taking care of those I thought to be worth more. I can admit my mistakes YN-ssi. Please accept my apology.”

You hadn’t expected to be given such an apology when you yourself could completely understand just why he had questioned the idea initially. “It’s all forgiven, please don’t feel bad about this I completely understand.”

“You’re a good person.” Seokjin declares. Hoseok hummed in agreement.

“Thank you Seokjin-ssi.” You don’t truly believe his words but still, it’s nice to hear.

“So…” he leans back. “How are you feeling after the elevator thing this morning?”

You and Hoseok send a grimace to one another, a look of fear and dread that only you can understand, the frown on your face thanks to the new pain in your hip.

The week was only just coming to an end and it was already far too long.

#bts smut #bts x reader #bts #hoseok x reader #hoseok drabble #hoseok smut #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts comfort #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts hoseok #jhope x reader #bts jhope #jhope comfort #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #Jungkook smut #yoongi smut #Namjoon smut #jimin smut #seokjin smut #hoseok comfort

[ravenesse]

Borrowed Stars — Chapter 5 ❤️‍🩹

Summary:

"Seokjin feels safe here, for once."

#bts #kim taehyung #taehyung #taejin #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #bts fic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #taejin fic #vjin #jinv #jintae #jin bts #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts vante #taetae #omegaverse #alpha taehyung #alpha/beta/omega verse #omega seokjin #hurt/comfort #taejin fanfiction #taejin fanfic #taejin au

[sopebubbles]

Chapter Fourteen

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you’ve gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you’re far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they’d do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

Warnings: lots of angst here folks. internal slutshaming and body dysmorphia, references to past forced drug use...on a lighter note, Namjoon shows his nasty side at the very beginning here...there's comfort in this too!

A/n from beastie🐾: Please be nice to Val here! She's working very hard on trying to accept herself but her doubts keep bubbling up. I will say that this is the climax of her self doubt, so from here on out we'll see her start to accept herself more and have more positive relationships with the men. 💕💕💕💕💕 Also sopebubbles 🧼 wrote all the Yoongi parts so if you want to melt and cry and scream all at the same time, that was all her doing and I did the exact same thing UGH ITS SO GOOOOD.

Word count: 9.2K

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It was still early when Namjoon heard Jungkook finally go to his bedroom next door. That was curious. Normally if Jungkook fell asleep by the pool, he’d stay there all night. Then came a second set of footsteps and hushed whispers. He’d recognize your voice anywhere. So that’s what had happened. Namjoon ignored the paperwork on the ornate, oak desk in front of him and let his mind wonder. Would you guys shower together afterwards? Jungkook had his own bathroom after all. Or maybe Jungkook would opt for the bathtub instead so you could lean against his chest as his tattooed hand found your clit under the water? Would you let him kiss away the gasps escaping your mouth as he toyed with you?

Namjoon wanted to go in and check on you, but he knew it was better to let you both sleep. No matter what kind of work out the two of you had gotten up to this morning, you probably needed it. 

Namjoon hissed at his own thoughts, realizing how hard he was under his satin pajama pants. Reaching into his pants, he wished he could watch Jungkook toy with you. He wondered absently which parts of your body were the most sensitive. Maybe there was a special part of your neck that made you wet and begged to be fucked. Namjoon wondered if Jungkook was able to find those places as he began to rub the precum over the tip of his penis with his thumb. He knew how thick Jungkook’s cock was, what it was like to be held down by him. However strong Jungkook looked, in reality he was stronger. He wondered if you got to experience what it was like to be caged in Jungkook’s arms and whining for more. Maybe one day you’d tell Namjoon all about how good Jungkook feels in your pussy between soft licks to the head of his cock. Maybe he’d get to feel you moan around his cock in your throat as Jungkook took you from behind.

Namjoon was moaning now as he stroked himself slowly. Or maybe you had been bossy? Jungkook has always been so eager to please. You could have instructed him to hold still as you used his cock for your own pleasure. Not letting him touch you as you took what you wanted and left scratch marks on his chest. Would Jungkook be the one helpless to how good your pussy feels? Would he cry trying not to come before you did? Would he tell you over and over how good you feel clenching around him? Maybe Namjoon could hold Jungkook while you fucked him. Namjoon knew how sensitive Jungkook’s nipples were. Did you find that out too? Maybe Namjoon could pinch and twist his nipples, nibbling Jungkook’s ears from behind as you had your way with him? Both you and Namjoon could tell Jungkook that he was a good boy. Namjoon knew that being called a good boy made Jungkook reach orgasm impossibly fast. What if he came too early? Getting you wet with his seed before you had even come? Would you let Namjoon finish the job? Would you call Namjoon Daddy as he pushed Jungkook’s seed back inside you with his fingers to keep you messy for him? Would you let Namjoon come inside too? Spasming around his cock and calling out for him as remnants of both him and Jungkook were kept inside you? Would you let Namjoon’s cock go soft inside you, letting you fall asleep on Daddy’s chest?

“Fuuuck,” Namjoon cursed as his orgasm hit him without warning. He slumped in his chair, feeling exhausted before realizing that he got cum all over his pajamas. “Shit.”

He changed his clothes quickly, feeling gross about his fantasies as he did so. Jungkook accepted Namjoon the way he was, but he wasn’t sure if you ever would. Somehow it seemed wrong to even think of you in such a way without your permission. And in hindsight, Namjoon didn’t even know if you and Jungkook had even slept together. Maybe you were training and needed something from his room. Namjoon couldn’t remember ever wanting someone so physically before. At least since he and Jungkook had gotten together.

He knew he wasn’t the only one in Bangtan that was falling for you. He had seen the way his most trusted men desired you. Especially Yoongi, who looked at you with a special kind of softness he had never seen from his hyung before. 

He pulled away from his depraved thoughts and started to focus on the events of last night, worrying instead for his friend who had been shot. It was unusual for Hoseok to make mistakes during a mission like this. There had to have been something that made him act reckless. Or maybe the cops had been aware he was there? No. That was near impossible. Nobody Namjoon had ever met matched Hoseok’s level of stealth. There was no way they should have seen him coming.

“I want to hold him, Joon,” Seokjin blinked up at his leader, eyes glistening. “I want to hold him so bad, but he looks so small and fragile and…”

When Namjoon entered Yoongi’s clinic, Seokjin was already there, holding Hoseok’s hand softly and trying to keep from falling asleep. The steady beeping of monitors made the clinic seem like a real hospital room. Hoseok looked to be a shadow of himself as he lay on the bed, pale and unmoving. Seokjin startled when he heard Namjoon approach.

“How long have you been awake?” Namjoon asked, placing a comforting hand on his hyung’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Seokjin sighed. “Yoongi tried to get me to sleep in a guest room, but I kept imagining…” Seokjin didn’t finish the sentence. Namjoon didn’t have to see the older man’s face to know he was barely keeping himself together. Namjoon squeezed his shoulder in understanding.

“You better lay down and rest,” Seokjin admonished, pulling himself off of Namjoon and wiping his eyes.

Namjoon got to his knees, allowing Seokjin to drape over his shoulders as he pulled the older into a hug. Moments like this were rare with Seokjin, who despite his carefree demeanor was always calculated in how he presented himself. There were many times when Seokjin had been the only person that Namjoon had felt like he could open up to, so he was glad to return the favor as he held his hyung.

“You guys are acting like we’re called Bangtan for nothing,” Hoseok grumbled, hoarse and wincing as he tried to sit himself up in the bed. The monitors started beeping a little faster. 

“The pain meds are wearing off,” Yoongi advised, going into his cabinet for more morphine. “You broke two ribs, you know.”

“I rest easier when you’re holding my hand,” Hoseok admitted, reaching out for Seokjin who happily obliged. Hoseok settled back down on the bed with a content hum, Seokjin placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“Is everything okay?” There was no hiding the grogginess of Yoongi’s voice as he stepped in.  He also had trouble sleeping last night, thoughts a confusing swirl of desire and fear. He had just exhausted himself to the point of falling asleep when he heard the monitoring system in his room spike and he rushed to his clinic.

“I’m okay, hyung,” Hoseok’s voice was still hoarse, but he smiled nonetheless. “Breathing hurts more than I remember though.”

“Is that all?” Hoseok joked, making Seokjin laugh next to him. 

“Actually,” Namjoon started. “Before you give that to him, Yoongi, I was wondering if Hoseok could tell us what happened yesterday.”

Hoseok squeezed Seokjin’s hand and closed his eyes, thinking back to the night before. 

“I just lost my footing on the catwalk, hyung, that’s all. I was waiting for them to finish the job and then…” Hoseok made a whistling noise to indicate his falling.

“Is there something wrong with the catwalk? Do we need to have it fixed? I don’t want other people getting hurt.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, I was just clumsy.”

Yoongi cleared his throat behind them, “I do think it’s best that my patient isn’t in any discomfort right now.”

“It’s just that you’re normally not that clumsy and everyone has direct orders not to rush an attack unless one of us is threatened, so I just want to make sure…”

“Namjoon,” it was Seokjin who spoke, a harshness in his eyes that he leveled at his leader. “Let it go.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with Namjoon, but he took Seokjin’s advice. His priority was his men’s wellbeing and he definitely didn’t want Hoseok to be in any pain, “I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighed, shaking his head. “You’re right, it’s not important and I’m out of line. I hope you feel better, Hobi.”

Hoseok hummed a quiet appreciation, eyes still closed, his energy fading again as his body worked hard to heal him. 

By midmorning, Namjoon decided he should go to Jungkook’s room. There was no sign of either of you in the house, and Namjoon knew that if he let the man sleep too late, he'd be grumpy. He wasn't entirely surprised to see that Jungkook was already awake. It was a little more shocking to see you dozing on Jungkook's chest. He had heard about your new-found cuddliness, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else. Jungkook raised a finger to his lips after he locked eyes with his lover, while his other hand rested gently against his shoulder.

As softly as possible, Namjoon padded to the end of Jungkook's bed and sat carefully. His hand rested only inches from where he could see the lump of your foot. You were so close but so far away and he ached to be able to lay a gentle and reassuring hand on your body, even over the covers. Even such a small amount of intimacy seemed impossible, though you'd shared more with so many of his men. Jin might be the only other man to not have touched you since he met you. But he could wait until you were ready and gave him your permission. 

"How is she?" Namjoon asked, hardly more than mouthing the words. Jungkook merely gave him a soft, satisfied smile back. One Namjoon was very familiar with. 

"Did you…?" Namjoon wondered, trying to tone down the lasciviousness of his question out of respect for you, but Jungkook knew it was there, under the surface, speaking from the desirous light in his eyes. Jungkook would know just how much his lover wanted you even if he hadn't ever said anything, and he had. Before he could make any kind of answer, you began to stir, nudging your nose against his chest as you muttered his name. 

"Good morning again, beautiful," Jungkook grins at you, and you return a hazy smile. 

"Did I drool on you?" You asked, remembering the last time you woke up on someone's chest, but still too sleepy to feel embarrassed, yet.

"I don't know, but Joon has a spit kink, so you should let him check."

None of Jungkook's words made sense to you. Why would he bring up Namjoon? You rubbed your eyes and yawned, and as you turned slightly away from Jungkook, stretching your legs out, your foot met a solid object. Your eyes flew open as you sat up in the huge bed. Your breath got caught in your throat when you saw the leader perched at the foot of the bed, watching you in perfect calm. You clutched the sheets to your chest, but you were anything but naked. You and Jungkook had both changed into clean shirts and sweatpants before you'd snuggled up together. 

"What are you doing here?" You sputtered. 

Namjoon instantly regretted startling you. He should have waited for you to be ready, or not been so close, or looked more disinterested. But it was too late. 

"It's okay, Val. I'm sorry I surprised you. I just came to check on Jungkook and see how you two were doing."

You relaxed slightly, but your confusion grew. "Jungkook's okay, isn't he?" You looked him over. You hadn't noticed if he'd gotten any wounds yesterday that went unaddressed. You had seen his whole naked body just hours ago, and he was the very picture of health. "Is there something to be worried about?"

Jungkook smirked and brushed a bit of hair over your shoulder, allowing his fingers to give just a little bit of pressure, so you could feel him touch you and know he wanted to. "I'm perfectly fine, Val. Joonie just knows I don't usually sleep so late, so he came to make sure everything is alright. Didn't you?" 

"Right." The man nodded.

"You guys sure do know a lot about each other's habits." You chuckled awkwardly.

The men shared a look. The elder opened and closed his mouth several times before he could decide what to say.

"Val, do you know Kookie and I are lovers?"

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt before picking up again in a rush. Were all the men in Bangtan in these types of relationships? With each other? What did it mean that first Taehyung and now Jungkook had slept with you. To be honest, your grasp of human sexuality was limited and your experience of relationships even moreso. But none of that really mattered to you at the moment except—Was Namjoon mad at you now?

You were moving off the bed before you could complete that thought, much less reason your way through it. If you had slept with Namjoon's lover and Namjoon was mad at you now, you could imagine what would come next, and it wasn't going to be cruel. You dashed toward the door of Jungkook’s room, swung it open and crossed into your own room, slamming the door behind you in a flash.  

The boys looked at each other with concern, but reacted slowly, each thinking through their own ways of how to reach and reassure you. 

 Namjoon reached your door first, Jungkook a step or two behind him, but he hesitated. Going into Jungkook's room, where he had an open invitation was one thing. Knowing now how much the news of their relationship had scared you, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt at seeing you so vulnerable and at peace, intimately holding his lover in the way he craved being held by both of you. Feeling like he had already crossed a boundary, he couldn’t justify going into your room without your permission. It conflicted with every principle he stood for.

Jungkook, however, couldn't bear watching Namjoon torture himself. He knew Namjoon cared a lot about privacy and personal space and boundaries. But Jungkook had an uncommon sense of which boundaries needed to be pushed and when. And right now he knew you were under some kind of misapprehension that could only be corrected if he could see you and talk to you. He knocked on the door and called out to you. 

"Val, everything is okay. I'm going to come in so I can show you that everything is fine," he warned before he gripped the handle and found it was unlocked. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You wept as you crouched into a corner between the bed frame and the night stand. "I didn't know!"

Jungkook gave a worried look to Namjoon, who looked completely gutted by your reaction. Seeing you making yourself small and covering your face as if to protect yourself broke his heart and crushed his hopes. Had he not done enough to show you he would never, ever hurt you?

Jungkook got low as he came toward you, his hands open and visible, but relaxed. He crouched in front of your trembling figure before he spoke. "Val, no one is going to hurt you. No one is upset." A beat passed, but you didn't relax. "Can we talk? We'll explain, and you'll see that everything is okay."

You looked anxiously at Jungkook and then up at Namjoon, but not to his face. You couldn't. You looked back at your knees and remained tense. The man closest to you frowned and turned back to the one still in the door. Jungkook motioned for him to get down. It was impossible for Namjoon not to look big, but looming over you wasn't going to help matters. He squatted and moved a few feet into the room before sitting on the ground, still quite a distance away from you and Jungkook.

"I didn't know he was yours," you muttered with a glance in his general direction. 

Jungkook chuckles lightly. "That's not your fault. We're good at being discreet, even at home. And just because I'm his and he's mine, doesn't mean anyone is mad. You did nothing wrong. No one is going to punish you or hurt you."

"I won't allow it, even for myself. I'll never hurt you, Val. I swear it." Namjoon's voice was steady and earnest. 

You released a small amount of your tension, so that you weren't holding yourself quite so tightly, and leaned back against the side of your bed. You studied your knees for a moment as you tried to breathe. It was clear they wanted to talk, which was not something you had ever been good at, so you tried to sort through your thoughts. Luckily, neither of the men rushed you through the uncomfortable silence, allowing your initial fear to subside. Finally, your gaze slid up to Jungkook's face.

"Why did you fuck me? I didn't force you!" You winced at your accusatory tone. You couldn't blame him, not when this was your mess. "Did I?" You questioned more doubtfully, quietly. 

Jungkook's face fell and he had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch you, any part of you. "No, Val, you didn't. I did it because you wanted me to and I wanted to. And I'd do it again, any time you wanted to. It was fun and amazing and it felt like a privilege."

Tears blurred your vision and slipped down your cheeks when you turned your eyes to look at Namjoon. "I don't understand." It was nothing more than a whimper.

"Val, why don't you sit on the bed and get comfortable so we can answer your questions?" Namjoon's voice was gentle, which only served to confuse you further. 

But your knees were beginning to ache, so you crawled up to sit in the very middle of the king size mattress that had always felt much too big and empty for you alone. You took one of the pillows and hugged it to your chest. You made sure to sit away from the headboard so you would have room to run if you needed it, but they were still between you and the door anyway. Once you were settled, curled around your pillow, the men shared a strained look and both rose to their feet. Namjoon could tell just by looking at you and the distant gaze in your eyes getting further away that he was going to have to strike a very fine balance between letting you sort through your thoughts and letting you get lost in them.

"Can we sit, Val?" 

Your head jerked up at his question and you met Namjoon's eyes for the first time. "It's your house. Your bed. You can sit wherever you want."

"This room is yours. And wherever you are, your personal space is yours. I will always need your permission to enter it, even if we someday know each other well enough that I don't need to ask, you can always take that permission away and ask me to leave. Do you understand?"

You closed your eyes tight, forcing residual tears from the waterline, so you buried your face in the pillow, muttering to yourself, "tonta, idiota que no entienda nada." But you never felt the weight on the bed shift, so you grunted out loudly, "sit!"

Jungkook sat cross-legged like you, close enough for his knee to touch you, needing a tiny bit of contact that could seem accidental, even if Namjoon might chastise him for his carelessness. But you didn't react and neither did the leader. Namjoon placed himself closer to the edge of the bed, but far enough inside that his feet hung off it, floating in mid air. When he reclined himself, laying on his side and his head propped on his hand, he was below you. This way he was able to see your face even if you wouldn't raise your head. 

"Can you tell us what's confusing you, so we can help?" Namjoon asked gently. For a moment you didn't move or speak, too overwhelmed by the sheer number of things you didn't understand. "It doesn't matter what it is. Ask us anything and we will give you an answer if we can. Whatever it is, you don't need to be ashamed."

Your stomach twisted at the word. You felt you had more than enough to be ashamed about, and verbalizing it to them seemed like too much. But you tried to sort through the hundreds of questions buzzing like bees inside your head.

"You never act like how you should," you finally uttered. That was the root of the problem with him, or at least one of them. You expected worse of him that he gave you, and it confused you every time. 

"How should I act?"

You sighed. "Everything here is yours. Everything in this house belongs to you. Everyone here is under your control. But you ask permission. You never get mad. You don't…" there was a list of actions you knew he could take at any given moment, but they were so foreign from him that you couldn't even speak them. "You speak and act gently and I get confused."

Namjoon felt another painful twinge upon the fault line you had been tearing in his heart for weeks. "No one belongs to me, Val. Not Jungkook and certainly not you. I love Jungkook but he is free to do anything he likes, even you, or anyone else. If he wants to leave, it would break my heart, but he can and there isn't a person on earth who I would let stop him. You expect me to control everything here, just because I can, but that isn't the man I am or ever want to be. I know," Namjoon paused to take a deeper breath, choosing his words carefully. "I know what kind of men you're used to. That's the kind of man my father was. He needed to control the people around him. He wanted to be feared and obeyed. He thought it made him powerful. But I think real power only comes from controlling yourself, not others. So you can always be in control of yourself here." 

Your head shook. He was confusing you again. "But you asked first. Can't you just do what you want?"

"Those aren't the same thing. My control ends where yours begins. I can hold myself back from doing anything I want for your sake. Because if I did whatever I wanted, we would be having this conversation with you in my lap."

At that you let out a strangled squeak. Jungkook laughed, a broad smile stretching his lips as he looked between you and Namjoon. "I think maybe she likes the sound of that, hyung."

Namjoon smiled back at him. "Me, too, but that's probably a bit much for today. You can hold onto Jungkook though, if you'd like."

You looked cautiously at Jungkook. He turned his palm up on his knee in case you would like to take his hand. But you didn't. You tugged the pillow tighter to your chest and looked at the bed spread in front of you. Jungkook tried not to feel hurt by the rejection. 

"There's something else I'm confused about." Neither man said anything but waited patiently for you to continue. "You two have sex together, and Jimin and Tae have sex, but you and Tae both had sex with me. Is it…is it because I'm kind of…"

"Manly?" Jungkook's voice was thick with amusement and you whined. He barked a laugh and knocked his body into yours, his arm going around your waist. "No, Val! It's 'cause you're hot!"

"But you like men!"

"And women! And sex in general. I'm bisexual, if you wanna put a label on it, and so are Namjoon and Taehyung."

"So you don't like me because I look like a man?" You still couldn't look at him. 

"You look very much like a woman to me. Where would you get an idea like that?" 

Painful memories and words from Joaquin repeated in your head from your boxing days. Years of steroids made your shoulders square and your muscles defined. Your hair grew in unsightly places more easily than you imagined most women did. Your voice had never quite lost the roughness it gained while you were forced to take injections. Your breasts were small, your clit was large…there was so much about you that seemed out of place with being a woman. Now that you were more in control of your image, you worked hard at trying to maintain a soft, feminine figure but some days it felt like nothing you ever did was enough to hide what was once your reality. And these men who liked other men…did they only like you because they thought you looked like a man too? 

Namjoon could see the distraction in your eyes even if he didn't know the direction of your thoughts. He wouldn't push you to tell him where you got that idea. Not today. But he wanted to bring you back and not let you get lost. He nudged Jungkook with his large foot and when the boy looked up at him with his soft doe eyes, he nodded in your direction. 

Jungkook cleared his throat. "Well, whatever you think, I'm attracted to you. I have been since I first saw you, and Namjoon has always known it. He doesn't mind at all."

"Why not?" You interjected, looking at Namjoon. 

"Because the way I love Kookie is by respecting his choices and his right to do as he pleases."

"But don't you feel jealous or possessive? Aren't you mad at all that we had sex?"

Namjoon shook his head. "Love doesn't mean that I own him. And it doesn't mean that he can only desire me or that I can satisfy his needs. And I –" he paused a moment to choose his words, to decide if it was right to say them. "If I'm jealous of anything, it's that he got to sleep with you. But I'm not upset."

"Why would you be jealous of that?"

Your ignorance was endearing, even if it bordered on the unbelievable. "Because he wants to fuck you, too, beautiful," Jungkook whispered to you while his eyes watched Namjoon close enough to see the shiver that ran through the man at the mention of you and him together. 

Your head snapped to face him. "You do?"

Namjoon swallowed, recalling his fantasy from earlier. He couldn't seem to stop thinking of ways he wanted to fuck you. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it." His voice remained casual, as if it wasn't shocking news to you, as if he wasn't beginning to feel hot. "I'd like to have sex with both of you, together."

"Now?" You asked, louder than you meant. 

Namjoon couldn't help an amused and endeared smile. 

"No, honey, not now. But some time, if you feel like you want that, I would be very into that. I think I could make you feel good. I want to watch you and Jungkook make each other feel good. But only if you want it too."

Your head felt a little hazy at the thought of being with the two men already on your bed, wrapped up in sweaty, mindless passion. But they weren't the only ones in your thoughts. There was still Tae, and Yoongi, who you hadn't done more than kiss with but still your body ached for him. "But what about the…"

"The what, baby?" The pet name slipped thoughtlessly from his lips, Namjoon’s mind too filled with affection for you and determined for you to know it, so he wouldn't correct himself. 

"The others," you finished quietly, and lowered your face in shame. 

Formly speaking, Namjoon knew you had a point. It wasn’t an explicit discussion his men had gone over yet. They would certainly need to, just in case anyone was harboring possessive feelings. But truth be told, even if one of them felt entitled to you over the others, he wouldn’t allow it. He would only allow what you wanted, and if you wanted them all, then that’s what you should have. He thought of Taehyung and his reckless bravado when he first started dating you. Maybe he would feel jealous, but somewhere in Namjoon’s heart he could tell his adopted brother was changing.The way he no longer demanded to be part of your space was a sign of his changing attitude and if any residual entitlement lingered, Namjoon would make it clear to Taehyung that any relationship that happened with you had to be your choice. He certainly didn’t mind the idea of you being with Jungkook or Yoongi or Hoseok or any of the other men as long as you were happy. As long as they respected you and you felt safe. Namjoon felt sure that the men he trusted most in the world would also feel this way.

“We’ll talk to them,” the leader assured you. “But please understand that our feelings are authentic. It’s not my place to confess for other people, but when you hear how special you are to us, please don’t second guess our feelings. That hurts way more than thinking about you and Jungkook together ever could.” Namjoon wanted to scoot closer to you and lay his head on your lap. If only you could see how desperately he was at your mercy.

“I’ll…try,” you stammered, lifting your head off your pillow so you could face Namjoon. His eyes were kind and pleading and despite yourself you wanted to believe that everything he was telling you was true. It was just… “It’s hard,” you choked back a sob. “I don’t have anything to offer you.”

Namjoon sat up at this, scooting closer but still not touching you. “Caring for someone is not grounded in what you can offer them,” he explained.

Jungkook laughed tenderly, “Yeah, it’s not like we’re hoping to get your family’s plumpest pig in exchange for your hand in marriage.”

You knocked your shoulder into Jungkook’s, groaning at his comment, “You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” Jungkook mused. “We’re happy to have you here and that’s enough. What could you possibly offer us that’s better than that?”

“I’m happy here too,” you admitted. You were scared to death to say these words out loud, but there it was. A truth you couldn’t escape. You were happy living at the Bangtan house and it made everything you wanted after that feel greedy and vile. Their kindness alone bordered on too much, but you didn’t know how to explain this to the two men on your bed.

“Val,” Namjoon said, refocusing your attention. “There is no match you have to fight, or mission you have to complete or role you must take on to prove you’re worthy of being here. You are enough.”

Namjoon was so close and you desperately wanted to be held by him, no longer wanting to lose yourself in your thoughts or needing space. If his words were true, why wasn’t he holding you tight so you felt safe in his arms?

With a giggle you let yourself melt into the men who, even for just a moment, let you believe you could maybe be enough.

Jungkook sensed your thoughts, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “You have to ask.”

“Namjoon,” You pleaded. “Can you hold me please?”

“Of course, baby.” And just like that you were in his lap, his arms wrapped around you and chin resting gently on the top of your head. It thrilled the large man to feel how tiny you were in his arms, like he could protect you from anything. You sighed happily, feeling warmth spread through your body as Namjoon nuzzled into your hair. Jungkook smiled fondly at the sight, scooting closer to rest his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Your doubts began to fade away as you felt your breath sync up with Namjoon’s. A part of you knew they’d be back, but if your happiness was fleeting then you would have to soak up every moment for everything it offered. You heard Jungkook hum happily above you, and you glanced up to see Namjoon kissing him softly. You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you, making the men break apart and turn their attention to you. Their beauty was overwhelming, making your cheeks heat as you took them in upclose. Jungkook, already so good at reading what you wanted, leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, so much more chaste than the ones you had shared earlier but it left you wanting more.

“Your turn, hyung,” Jungkook instructed, pulling away to leave room for Namjoon. Your heart was beating heavily in your chest as Namjoon lifted your chin to face him, reminding you again of how his size compared to yours. He did all but close the distance, breath ghosting over your lips for an extra moment before you could no longer take it and pressed your lips to his. You twisted in his lap, wanting to feel more of him, but he pulled away.

“Baby, I’m thrilled you want this, too,” Namjoon confessed. “But I want to take my time with you and right now, feeling you lay against me is enough.” As if they sensed you pouting, they snuggled into each side of your neck making you squeal and squirm. “Let us savor this,” Namjoon mouthed against your neck. 

Even though Namjoon and Jungkook had been reassuring about your place in the household, you had asked to spend some time alone today to try to piece some of your thoughts together. It was easy to feel comforted when they were pressed against you and quieting your insecurities, but you also needed to figure out what all this meant for you too. For that reason, you told the men not to count you in for dinner that evening. 

Jungkook took his seat at the dinner table uneasily as Jimin and Taehyung finished setting the table. Tae picked up one of the dining chairs and moved it against the wall, leaving a space at the table just as Jin brought Hobi to the table in a wheelchair. 

"Did you tell Val that dinner is ready?" Yoongi asked as everyone else settled into their chairs, yet the seat between him and Hoseok remained vacant.

Jungkook cleared his throat nervously and glanced at Namjoon, who gave him a soft smile and an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. 

"Val isn't joining us tonight. I told her dinner was ready," he added as Yoongi looked like he was going to jump in. "But she asked for some time alone, and as you know, what Val wants, Val gets."

Jungkook glanced at the leader, whose authority backed him up. "As long as she doesn't hurt herself," Namjoon added with an understanding look at Yoongi.

The doctor's hands clenched into fists under the table, but he could only be angry and frustrated with himself. He should have gone to you already and tried to fix things from last night. To tell you that everything was okay, and he was sorry, and he wouldn't kiss you again if that's what you wanted. But he should also tell you that he would like to do it again, that he loves you. He should go and tell you everything that was in his heart. But you wanted to be alone and it was all his—

"I want to be upfront with you guys." Jungkook's voice was very close to trembling as he broke through Yoongi's spinning thoughts. The youngest man's eyes looked from Yoongi across the table and then to Taehyung at his side, then down to his plate. "Val and I had sex. This morning. It was spontaneous, but it was what she asked for and obviously what I wanted. Joon and I talked to her about how our relationship works, and how we feel about her. We think—we hope—she understood. She just needs a little time to…take it all in."

Namjoon squeezed his lover's hand under the table and gave Jungkook the courage to look up at his hyungs. Around the table, Jimin and Hoseok sat opposite each other with twin looks of exhilarated shock, their mouths hanging wide open as they looked at their maknae. Jin wore an amused smile, trying to keep in a chuckle.

When he looked to his right, Jungkook expected to see anger, or a look of betrayal, but Taehyung was calm. Not like an angry, calm before the storm, ready to explode calm, but a resigned one. Taehyung had understood weeks ago that all of them would care for you. Maybe he'd even feared that months ago and had kept you away. The way things stood now, he didn't feel any claim to you, at least not one he deserved. And if it was really what you wanted, like Jungkook said, what else could there be to the matter?

At once everyone's eyes shifted over to Yoongi. The silence was fraught and seemed to have lasted for minutes, even though it had only been seconds. Yoongi's expression was opaque. Although Yoongi was never considered an expressive man by any of them, there wasn't a single man at the table who doubted that he was entirely in love with you. They expected to see jealousy, but Yoongi only appeared thoughtful. 

Hundreds of questions yelled inside Yoongi's brain at once, he could hear only a few of them. Had you truly wanted Jungkook? Did he treat you well? Did you enjoy yourself? Are you okay? Did you need anything? He even had a few questions for Jungkook. Did you take care of her? Is she as incredible as I imagine? What's it like to have her in your arms? 

A question asked itself but he pushed it away. What does this mean for us?

He settled for, "did you use protection?"

Jungkook smiled in spite of himself and turned a light shade of pink as he looked at his plate. "Of course, Yoongi hyung."

"And she's okay?"

"Yeah, a little in her head, but she seemed good."

"Good. Food's getting cold." Yoongi stood to ladle soup into Namjoon's bowl. The others quickly began to remark on the dishes in front of them and handed their bowls to the man, anxious to make noise before the tension could return.

As night fell, your thoughts took a turn for the worst and there was no hope of sleeping. Again. How could you sleep at night when you'd behaved so badly in the previous 24 hours? Even after Namjoon's explanation of poly relationships, even though the boss himself had been pleased that you'd slept with his boyfriend, even if Jungkook treated you more affectionately than any other human ever had done, you were certain you must still be an intolerable slut. The kind of love and trust and openness that Namjoon had described to you sounded, frankly, lovely. And even putting your transgression the previous night with Yoongi aside—you knew, or at least you were pretty sure, that Yoongi would be forgiving about your behavior, because he was much too good a person to hold it against you. Even without that, you weren't a lovely enough person to participate in that kind of love. You were something different from these men. You had been incredibly wary of them initially—you would never admit to being frightened—assuming that they were the kind of men you had known in this life before. But each day you spent with Bangtan only proved they weren't your sort at all. They were something different entirely. And accepting as they might be, you did not belong. You sullied them with your presence. Every moment you remained brought more and more disgrace upon them. No matter what Namjoon or Jungkook would try to make you believe, the reality was you were not enough.

You were sliding out from between the expensive sheets of your borrowed bed before you even completed the thought. Your duffle bag sat at the bottom of the mostly empty closet between the bedroom and bathroom, and you quickly stuffed it full of everything you owned. The same way it had been when you entered this house. It only took you a few minutes to remove your clothes from the drawers and hangers. You shoved in the dirty clothes from the hamper, too. Jungkook, you noticed, did laundry frequently and had taken your items without asking on a few occasions—not that you minded. He hadn't had time to get to it today. 

You had heard Jungkook's door close half an hour ago while you tossed and turned. You had wanted, briefly, to go back into his room and ask to sleep with him again, but you couldn't. Was that where your thoughts had begun to spiral down? The desire crept over your again as you stood with your bag hanging over your shoulder. You stared at the door knob. It seemed to be waiting for you to reach out and turn it. But you couldn't. 

The house was quiet and you could hear Jin's snores at the other end of the hallway. Something within you ached for the fact that you wouldn't get to know that man any better. He was still a mystery to you and so he would remain. Perhaps he would simply be relieved that you were out of their way and out of their lives when you were gone. Perhaps Jimin would feel the same way, in spite of the friendship that has recently begun to blossom between you two. You'd even miss him, you thought as you stood between the door to the basement and the one to Yoongi's clinic. 

You just wanted to check on Hoseok, you told yourself. You hadn't been to visit him all day because you were avoiding Yoongi, but you wanted to assure yourself he was alive and on the mend before you left the mansion. Hoseok laid in the hospital bed in the corner of the room just as still and peaceful looking as he had last night, when you kissed Yoongi. Something tempted you to touch him, and you couldn't resist the way your finger extended to trace the edge of his hand.

Yoongi's eyes opened the moment your foot stepped down the first stair. Since you'd moved into the house, he had become keenly attuned to your steps. They were so different from the others, lighter even when you weren't trying. Maybe that's why they were so easy to pick up, why he always knew when you were moving about the house and where you were going. 

Perhaps it was just that he'd been wondering when you would make a run for it since the day you'd come and told them who you really were. Running was part of who you were, wasn't it? He didn't need to be attuned to you to anticipate such an action. The possibility had been on his mind since the moment you'd rushed out after he kissed you. Whatever Jungkook and Namjoon said, he'd been wondering since he heard the news if this would overwhelm you. He hated himself for pushing you so close to the edge before you were ready. The others would probably forgive him, but would he forgive himself? 

No.

He was already getting out of bed when he heard the door to his clinic open. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe you were coming to see him. Maybe you needed him. 

Maybe you were just coming to say goodbye.

"I'm sorry, Hoseok. You wouldn't have been hurt if not for me. I hope you won't be hurt again," Yoongi heard you whisper faintly as you ran your finger gently over the back of Hoseok's hand. "I'll miss you."

Yoongi hung back in the shadow of his open bedroom door—left ajar in case his patient needed him in the night—and watched you for a moment. He felt as though maybe he wasn't quite awake, as if a new dream came to him. He could see himself getting in a car with you and stealing away into the night. The tired trope of running off to Mexico wouldn't do. Your enemy had too many connections there, so Yoongi would drive you north to Canada. From there, the two of you could go anywhere. He would take you everywhere you had ever wanted to go and places you hadn't dreamed of, too. And he would keep you safe and healthy. He would kiss you like he had last night and not feel an ounce of guilt because both of you would be happy.

But before him, in his clinic, you were turning away, so Yoongi couldn't stay in the shadows. 

"Will you miss me, too?" he found himself asking as he stepped into the room. Your hand was already on the doorknob but you turned back slowly to look at him.

"I might miss you most," you answered softly, and his heart clenched.

"You don't have to go." He walked forward to close the distance between you. "If you're leaving because of me, because I kissed you last night, you don't have to. I'll behave. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

You let out a small pained sound. "Oppa, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm the one who was wrong. I have to leave because I'm wrong."

"You aren't. You couldn't be." There was almost a whine to his voice, but he couldn't be bothered to feel embarrassed. 

"Yoongi." Your head bowed and your eyes fell to the floor as you said his name. Were they tears you were trying to hide from him? "You should be mad at me."

"Why should I be?" He asked, unthinkingly lifting your chin with his hand so he could see your watery eyes. 

"I did something," you whispered, and you were barely holding back your tears. 

Yoongi looked at you evenly, determined to be steady for both of you. "Do you mean having sex with Jungkook?"

Your eyes flickered to his as your breath hitched in your throat. "You know."

"We all know. You couldn't think Jungkook was going to keep that to himself." He forced his voice to stay light.

"I'm so sorry, Yoongi."

"For what? Did you want to have sex with Jungkook?" He wondered, tone free on any kind of inflection that might indicate judgement.

A small whine came from your throat before you could speak. "I did," you admitted, heart heavy with shame. "I really did. But I really wanted to kiss you, too. I want to do it again. And that's just wrong, isn't it? You at least must want me to go, right?" 

Were you thinking of Taehyung as your eyes drifted away along with your thoughts of the others? He'd taken it surprisingly well, Yoongi thought. No anger or jealousy from the younger man, merely resignation, as if he expected everyone else to want you. Yoongi brought your thoughts back to him with a hand to your cheek. 

"Is that what you think? Is that what Namjoon told you?" 

You shook your head. Not in negation, but as if to clear it, recalling that Namjoon was yet another man you wanted in this house, further proof of how disgusting you were and how you couldn’t accept this. Then your eyes set hard, a look of determination Yoongi had come to recognize settling in your irises. "Namjoon says a lot of things. Maybe they're true for him. But that doesn't mean they are for me."

Yoongi nodded. "Namjoon's ways aren't right for everyone, it's true. But do you think it's because you can't love like that? Or because you don't deserve love like that?"

You scoffed, pulling yourself away from him. He almost had you, almost pulled you in. But when would you ever make it that easy? "Don't ask me about love! Do you think I know anything about love? What it is or how to deserve it? Because I don't! Could you love me like that?"

The question caught him off guard, but only because of the earnestness with which you asked it. Even if you didn't realize you were looking for an answer, you needed it. "Yes, I could," he replied honestly. 

"How?" 

"Because I would be honored if you let me show you any kind of love. Because I want to show you the best, most tender kind of love, the kind I've never wanted to give to anyone before. I could love you and let everyone else love you too because you do deserve it. I wouldn't ever need to be jealous because there would be no room for anything but happiness if I could see you let yourself be loved by anyone."

A moment passed while his words hung in the air between your heavy breaths. 

"Don't go, Val. I know I have no right to ask. Your freedom is yours to take, and if you want I'll drive you out of LA and as far as you want to go tonight. But don't go because you feel guilty or ashamed or because you think you don't deserve every kind of love."

"What else can I do?" You asked in a watery whisper, and Yoongi reached out to take your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. 

"Stay."

Your eyes searched his in the darkness of the room, and you thought maybe he looked a little scared and a little hopeful. "Stay?" 

Yoongi nodded. 

"Can I stay with you?"

A small smile curled at the corners of his lips, and he nodded again. A heavy weight lifted off his chest as you removed the strap of your bag from your shoulder and let it drop to the ground. He led you gently by the hand back to his room. He didn't need to ask if you wanted to wear one of his shirts to sleep in. He had noticed how much you liked wearing the one he'd lent you before and hadn't given back—which you had stuffed into your bag with everything else, consciously or unconsciously taking a piece of him with you. You weren’t sure why wearing Yoongi’s clothes made you feel safe, like you had a future to look forward to, while the idea of wearing the other men’s clothes felt like a bitter reminder of a controlling past. Maybe that was okay too. Maybe you didn’t have to feel the same way about all the men in the house to know how deeply you cared for all of them. They each took up a different space in your heart and Yoongi was at the center of it. 

Yoongi let go of your hand to pull out a t-shirt and shorts from his drawers, handing them to you before making an excuse to go back into the clinic so you could change. You shook yourself out of the jeans and shirt you'd quickly dressed in. Where were you really going in the middle of the night and how were you going to get there? What were you thinking? It didn't matter. Thoughts left your head as the familiar scent of Yoongi filled in with his shirt, leaving room for nothing but a familiar sense of comfort. You opted to forgo the shorts, hoping he wouldn't mind or read anything into it that you didn't mean. As you slipped into his bed, you couldn't think of anything but sleep all the sudden. 

Yoongi took a moment to check on Hoseok's vitals, trying to keep his mind busy yet quiet. For a second he thought he saw the flash of the patient's eyes, but it was too dark for Yoongi to be sure he hadn't imagined it. Turning away, he bent to scoop up your bag and pushed it under the bed so no one would trip if they came in to visit their friend. Or maybe so they wouldn't realize what had almost happened tonight. Or maybe so it would be harder for you to find. He was too tired to parse out all the reasons. 

He came back as soon as he heard you settle in the bed, and he had to focus on calm, steady breaths as he got in beside you. He wouldn't initiate anything you didn't want this time, he told himself, even if having you in his bed like this electrified him in a way he had never known. He would simply lay there and let you come to him if you wanted, or to sleep on the other side of the bed if that was it. At least you were staying. At least for tonight. You stayed a foot away from him for a long moment and he hoped you couldn't hear the thundering of his heart. Then your hand reached out for his, and his breath stopped all together. 

"Can I-" you started but quickly stopped. 

Yoongi turned his head to face you through the darkness. "Whatever you want is what I want. You don't need to be afraid of anything with me," he assured you. 

He almost laughed hearing you swallow in the quiet room, wondering if your nervousness was the same kind as his. You shifted closer to him across the bed and lifted his arm. He got the message and raised it so he could wrap it securely around you, but not too tight, and you settled into his side. 

The feeling of relaxation that eased through your body was unexpected. You realized that for the first time in your life, you didn't actually want to run. You had felt like it was the right thing to do, still not sure you actually deserved to be there, but you desperately wanted to stay. You had finally found a place you wanted to be, and you could only hope it would last.

"Thank you for asking me to stay," you whispered, your breath fanning over his cheek as you angled your face up to him. He turned toward you again, so your lips were a hair's breadth apart. 

"Thank you for not leaving," he replied, holding himself back those last millimeters with every ounce of will in his being. He didn't need it though. When you pressed your lips to his, you couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

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[snow-143]

The Truth Untold- Kim Taehyung |

ten- dreams are cruel (1.6k words)

'Taehyung... you're a fucking idiot.'

'Don't you think I already know that.' without even looking at him, I know there's a pained look on his face. He missed his opportunity.

'It's okay don't worry, you'll have more chances, if she's willing to kiss you once she'll be willing to kiss you again.' I can't help but see the deeper meaning in my words. Even though the last time we shared a kiss was years ago I think there's still a part of me willing to go there again. The part of me that sees sense out ways that though.

'You really think so.' Looking at him now, I see glimpses of longing in his eyes, not a new one either, rather a deep-rooted one that been investing his brain for years. Has he really liked her for that long?

The thought stings, not in a sense that he likes her now, I know how he feels and there's nothing left for us anyway. But rather in a way that there is a very high chance that he liked her all those years ago.

'Yes I do think so, in fact I know so. You want to know why?' Instead of verbally responding he prompts me with his eyes instead. It's funny that after all these years I can still understand his little micro aggressions.

Instead of lingering on this thought, I continue my point, 'that girl knows what she wants, okay? She's not the type to do something without thinking it through. All her actions are calculated and benefit her in some way. So I know that in her doing that proves that she's more than willing to go for it again.'

He sighs at this, 'you speak of her as if she's a manipulative mastermind.' To this I just raise my eyebrow.

'Right. Anyway, you and Jimin seemed... cozy.'

'Oh that, well I had to give you your in one way, and he was just being a gentleman.' to my surprise I'm met with a laugh.

'Jimin? A gentleman? Are we talking about the same Jimin?'

'I'd hope we are. You obviously know him better than me but from what I can see he's really sweet.'

'Yeah he can be, but not just to anyone y/n.' Tilting my head I look for the meaning behind his words. What the fuck does not just to anyone mean.

'Whatever. You're just mad because he likes me more than you.'

'...'

'Tough crowd I guess.' oh, he does not look amused at all.

'Anyway, we're getting completely off of track. Now spill, did she give you butterflies? She so did didn't she! I bet the only reason you didn't kiss her was because you were too nervous. I mean I don't blame you she has that affect on men. God, she even gives me butterflies sometimes-'

My rant is rudely interrupted by a call of my name. 'Yes I got butterflies.' There’s this look in his eyes, I can't quite place it but all I know is that his gaze is set in stone right onto me. Why is he looking at me like that while talking about my best friend?

'She had this look in her eyes, like I held everything she needed, that I was everything she needed. It was like she was telling me she'd do anything I asked of her, and if I'm being honest I'd do the same.'

'Wait, you're talking about Eun here right? Eun who looks at men like they're some prize to win?'

'Um yeah, of course I'm talking about her, who else would I be talking about?' And just like that the whole atmosphere has shifted. Why is it suddenly so awkward...

'It's getting late, I should go.' As much as breaking the silence felt excruciating, the thought of sitting there any longer was worse.

'Wait.' I can feel like hand encasing my wrist as I get up to leave. I silently wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. Instead, we just stand there, looking at each other.

There's a strange look in his eyes, one that soothes me yet puts me on edge all at once. Hesitant of what's to come.

Eventually he mumbles something, 'Don't go.'

'What?'

'Um I mean, won't Eun hear you leaving my room? She probably won't be asleep yet.'

'Oh, right. I suppose that's true.' My heart does the silly little thing it likes to do when it's let down. But that's stupid. Why would I be disappointed that he didn't actually want me to stay? I was the one who wanted to leave in the first place.

'You can stay here for a little if you like, just until we can be sure she's asleep.'

'Okay.' I give him an unsure smile, before making my way back to my spot in his bed. This time getting a little more comfortable.

—————

Rolling over I cuddle deeper into my pillow. Letting out a content sigh I breathe in the intoxicating smell that seems to be attached to it, my brain feels all hazy, but I'm not complaining, I've always loved the feeling when you wake up from one of the best sleeps you've ever had and have no idea how or when you got there.

It's not for a while until I realise that something's not right. My pillow is a bit too hard, and smells a little too familiar. However, I ignore this, too wrapped up in how content I feel in my sleepy disorientation.

That is until I realise my pillow has arms... that are wrapped around my waist. And the fact that my pillow seems to be at least the length of my whole body.

Hesitantly I open up my eyes, 'What. The. Fuck.' it's quite enough but the boy who's got me locked into a vice grip still stirs.

Deciding it'll be far less embarrassing to pretend I'm still asleep I lock my eyes shut.

But the embarrassment doesn't come... instead a wave of warmth fills me instead. Because the sweet boy under me doesn't startle, he doesn't shout at me asking what the fuck I'm doing in his bed.

Instead, he starts to stroke my hair, and I am the one shouting what the fuck again, except in my head this time.

Maybe he's just confused. He probably doesn't even realise it's me, I reason. But all of my reason is thrown out of the window when he begins to speak, 'is this another dream y/n? It must be... well if that's the case I might as well indulge myself.'

He never stops playing with my hair throughout all of this, and I must admit I'm very close to falling back to sleep. Because for all I know this is not his dream but mine, and I'll be damned if I don't enjoy it while it lasts.

So here I am lying on Tae's chest, letting him whisper to me things that only half make sense.

I can't tell if i what this to be a dream or not. Part of me wishes that what he is saying is real and not some fantasy my brain has conjured up, but the other half of me is praying it's not real because where the hell do I go from here.

'These dreams are so cruel. I get to hold you, to talk to you, to see you looking so angelic only for my eyes. And god do they feel real, but then I'm brought back to reality. A reality where I haven't held you in years. I hate that reality.'

His hands move, instead taking their place on my back and waist, soothing circles across my skin. Then his lips are meeting my head, and I can't help but think, if this is a dream it's one I hope to never wake up from.

But soon I am waking up, except, I'm still in Tae's room, surrounded by his smell, his aura and most importantly him.

Wait... so did that really happen or is it just some fever dream my brain conjured up.

'Tae?' I get the confidence to speak up this time. Probably because I'm no longer facing him. Instead, I'm lying on my side, my back to his chest.

The only response I get is a groan. I can't help but giggle at that. That is until I notice something poking my butt and suddenly nothing's funny anymore.

'Tae...' I try again.

'Mhhh.' He pulls me impossibly closer to him. And I can't take it anymore. Out of what I can only describe as shock I slap his hand, I need out if this situation right now.

'Y/nieee.' Why is this only getting worse.

'Tae, please wake up before I die of embarrassment.' He loosens his grip slightly, but it's still not enough for me to make an escape.

Okay calm down y/n its basic biology, there's nothing to be embarrassed over. But boy am I embarrassed. How did I even get into this situation? I curse myself, trying to recall the previous night.

The last thing I remember is sitting down on his bed and deciding I should at least get comfortable if I have to wait out Eun going to sleep.

Me and my fucking comfort.

'Y/n.' Relief overtakes me as I hear his sleepy voice. Oh, boy... his sleepy voice.

'Thank fuck, you're awake.'

'What are you doing here?' His arms are still secure around my waist.

'I was hoping you could tell me that.'

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///////////

a/n: idk how to feel about my writing lately

#books #bts non idol au #bts x reader #fanfic #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #angst #hurt/comfort #hurtnocomfort #f2 fanfic #bts f2l #childhood f2l #toxic friends #unrequited love

[myg-butterfly]

hi ! welcome to @myg-butterfly masterpost !

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- i'm maria / mari

- 19 & gemini

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- infj + 2w1

- autistic / nd

- army since august 2022 :)

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[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 15.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.

The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.

Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.

God does she know it.

She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.

Red is better color.

She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.

But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.

She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.

Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.

She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.

She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.

“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”

Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.

Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.

A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.

Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.

She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.

Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.

She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.

Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.

She sighs. Alphas and their messes.

In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.

Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.

That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.

She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.

She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.

The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.

He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.

Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.

This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.

Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.

She looks at the flame, sparking.

“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.

Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.

She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.

This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.

And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.

Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)

She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”

“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.

“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”

~-~

(Now, Namjoon)

Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.

It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.

He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.

No.

Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.

Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.

He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.

He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.

Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.

The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.

There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.

"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.

It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.

This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.

If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.

Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.

Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-

Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.

They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.

Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.

He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:

Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).

It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.

"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.

"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.

He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.

Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.

"I need you to promise."

Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.

"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"

"Just promise."

"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.

"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."

"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.

"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."

Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.

“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.

“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.

Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.

Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.

“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”

It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.

“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.

It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.

Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.

Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.

He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.

Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,

Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.

You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.

Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers. 

He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.

Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes. 

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.

You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.

Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path. 

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting.

You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.

“I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.

After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat. 

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.

Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.

He's never going to hurt you. He promised.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.

You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.

But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces." 

"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"

"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."

"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"

Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."

You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.

"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."

"What the fuck-"

Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"

Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"

There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually. 

You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.

You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.

"Shit are you okay?"

"Pup?"

"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.

Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.

"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.

When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.

"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."

"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.

"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."

Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.

"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."

You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.

You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”

“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.

Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.

If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.

“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”

Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.

“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.

"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”

Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.

“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."

Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”

“Oh my god daisy-”

You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."

Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”

Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”

"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.

"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“

Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”

“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.

“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."

You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."

Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."

“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.

The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.

"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"

Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.

You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"

“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."

The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.

Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.

Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”

Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.

He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.

“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”

Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.

“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”

“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"

“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.

Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."

Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.

Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.

"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."

Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.

"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.

Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"

Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."

"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."

"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."

"You mean-"

"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."

"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"

“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”

You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."

"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."

Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.

Maybe if he had, things would go differently.

A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”

Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.

"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.

“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“

"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.

You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.

“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”

(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)

Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”

You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”

“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."

"You've never said-"

Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."

You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.

You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.

You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.

“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"

You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”

Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.

“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"

There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.

Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.

Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.

To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.

The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.

Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.

Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.

Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.

To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.

But another woman? Even one like that?

Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.

It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.

But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.

Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.

By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.

~-~

(18 hours later, Jimin)

Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.

Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.

He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.

Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.

Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.

Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.

At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.

But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.

When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.

The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.

He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.

A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.

It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.

And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.

To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.

Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.

Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).

“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.

"Pup told me everything."

Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.

Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.

"It's okay,"

"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"

That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.

For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.

But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).

In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.

Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.

It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.

Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."

"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"

Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.

(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).

It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.

It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.

How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.

They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.

Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.

“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”

Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."

It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.

“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”

“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.

Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.

Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"

"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).

“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”

Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."

“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.

"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”

“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”

Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.

“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.

"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”

She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.

“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”

Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.

It stays there.

~-~

The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:

There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.

Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.

There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.

The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.

“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.

Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.

But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.

Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.

They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.

Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.

The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;

Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.

Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.

Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.

Once they're gone, other promises get made:

“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”

“I can ask some of my contacts-“

“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”

“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”

“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”

In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.

"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.

"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.

(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)

You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.

They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.

It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.

“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.

Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"

"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-

"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).

“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.

"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.

There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.

The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."

You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.

“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.

He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.

“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.

Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.

“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.

“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”

“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”

You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”

But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.

What's more intimate? Sex or murder?

He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.

“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.

Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.

You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.

No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.

"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.

You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.

Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.

You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.

Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.

The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.

It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.

Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.

“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.

You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.

“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.

You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.

Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.

Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”

Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”

“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.

that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.

the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.

It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.

“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.

Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.

It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.

Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.

"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.

You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."

Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"

You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."

Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.

If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.

But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"

You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.

"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.

He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.

There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.

"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.

You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.

"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.

Probably.

"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)

“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”

"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.

You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.

Noodle stops his chomping.

The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.

You freeze where you stand.

The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.

And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.

Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.

It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.

Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.

You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.

Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.

Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.

The danger is all in your head.

Only it's not,

Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.

~-~

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Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.

in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.

i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.

on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?

this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.

when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.

it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.

Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3

In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.

although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!

i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.

i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.

i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?

i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.

oh~ shits about to go down~

Mini-Playlist

Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)

Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)

JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)

Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).

#bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts gang au #bts mafia au #bts polyamory au #bts au #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #min yoongi fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #knj #kth #ksj #jhs #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 25

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 9.2k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks

Masterlist

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Trained in waking up early and pulling all-nighters because of filming, you were used to witnessing the sun rise. Usually, you didn’t pay it much attention. The sun rose every day and you had other more important things to do than watch it go through the same motions. You were rushing to leave, making coffee and answering texts on your phone or you were too tired to do anything other than go straight to bed and close the blinds.

You had forgotten how beautiful it was, how the quiet of the early morning glowed in soft orange. Only you and Seokjin were awake, snuggled up on the large white couch on the balcony on the main floor. Your feet were laying on his lap and his arm was wrapped around your waist.

You had woken up early, fading images of the red ballroom and empty eyes haunted your sleep as much as you tried to bury them during the day. Thankfully, Jimin hadn’t been there when you had woken up, drenched in sweat and grasping wildly at the sheets to remind yourself that you were at the Castle. That it had been more than a week since you had been in that ballroom.

It would go away. It had to. It was over. Nothing happened to you. You would get over it.

 You got up, stretched your sore muscles from all the walking the previous day and put on some music to take your mind off the long green dress and paddle numbers, and started your day. No one else was supposed to be awake so early in the morning but when you went to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, Seokjin was already there, mixing pancake batter with a large wooden spoon. 

Putting your arms around him, you had watched him work until he sent you away, claiming that you were distracting him. It wasn’t your fault that his neck looked in desperate need of kissing and that your mouth had trailed downwards subconsciously. Since you weren’t wanted in the kitchen, you went outside to the balcony to savor the sharp air before the sun appeared on the horizon.

Seokjin joined you soon with two cups of coffee. “It feels like a mug of hot coffee would be more appropriate, but the weather’s too hot,” you had joked.

He had made your favorite iced coffee in the way too-expensive coffee machine you had purchased when you first got the house. Another one of your impulsive purchases. But it was worth it. It made some of the best coffee you had ever tasted. The only coffee above that was made by a small coffee shop nestled in a quiet alleyway in Paris. The perfect amount of milk and sugar, not too sweet and not too bitter. 

You were both a little tired from your little trip to the lake. A sweet kind of pull in your chest, not easily noticeable. You had returned as the sky grew darker and had ordered takeout for dinner, which you enjoyed spread around the garden. Surprisingly, almost everything in the baskets had been devoured during your time at the lake. Alice had been reluctant to leave but you had promised her that she was welcome to visit you again soon. She had hugged each of you tightly—even Yoongi, who didn’t seem to mind at all—and promised that she would be back to play more.

“She’s a little hurricane,” Seokjin said. He was glowing with the sunrise stroking his face. “She reminds me of you a little. Was that what you were like when you were little?”

“I was never that cute,” you joked. Your aunt would argue but while Alice was a hurricane, sweeping up everyone in her way and winning them over, you had been a nightmare, difficult to handle, not listening to anyone, and independent to a fault. “Or that social. I would like to believe that I contributed a little to the shaping of her personality but honestly, her parents are both amazing. They raised her really well and she was already incredible to begin with. She will become a much better person than me.”

He looked down at your legs resting on his lap. “That will be hard. You are probably the best person I know.” He shrugged as if what he said didn’t matter, as if it didn’t make flowers bloom in your chest.

You caressed his cheek, prompting him to look at you. “That might be a little worrying but thank you. You are one of the best people I know too. Shhhh,” you quieted down his protests. “If you can say that about me, I can say that about you.”

“I haven’t done anything special. Nothing like you. You-”

“Stop that.” You laid two fingers on his lips and he obediently stilled them under your touch. “First, you don’t have to do anything special. Who defines special either way? Some of the kindest, most loyal, amazing people I know show these qualities in small ways, that doesn’t make them any less special. Second, who says you didn’t do anything special? Who was there for Jungkook when he distanced himself from everyone else? Who cooks for us every day and takes care of us? Who is always trying to cheer us up when someone is feeling down? Who-?”

“Enough, enough,” he interrupted you, shaking his head. His human ear and cheeks were stark red at all the praise. “I know I’m amazing, that’s enough.”

You laughed and captured his lips in a kiss. Warmth, more comforting than what the sun could provide, filled your insides as you tangled your fingers in his soft hair. He opened his lips for you and you slowly explored the inside of his mouth. You had always enjoyed kissing but nothing compared to the kisses you had shared with your hybrids the past few months.

Lazy mornings were rare for you. There was always one reason or another to be running around the house in a hurry to leave or lock yourself in your office. You were hostage to an endless need to always be productive. That’s what mornings were for. Maybe you had been completely wrong because this one was one of the best mornings you had ever experienced.

Seokjin heard the footsteps on the stairs before you did, turning his head around to watch Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon climb up. You called for them and Jungkook and Jimin ran to you, squeezing themselves between you. Namjoon followed laughing and sat down next to Seokjin, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung appeared soon and Seokjin left to go plate the breakfast and bring it to the balcony. You didn’t eat on the balcony often, mostly because of the low table that made it a little uncomfortable, but no one wanted to move. Jungkook and Namjoon went with Seokjin inside to help but when you moved to do the same, Jimin wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and wouldn’t let you go.

“No, you are staying with me!” he exclaimed and proceeded to bury his face in your belly, purring.

Hoseok looked at you in amusement and you shrugged your shoulders, used to Jimin’s antics by now. The three of them took one of the other two couches while the five of you remained squeezed in one. Yoongi looked adorably rumpled from sleep, messy hair and heavy eyes, the stark opposite of Hoseok, who was wide awake and energetic as usual. Taehyung wasn’t the statue he was the first few days but he remained perfectly kept and quiet.

You filled your plate with three pancakes and your favorite toppings and dug in. The conversation returned to your trip to the lake.

“When can we go again?” Jungkook asked, chewing his pancakes with passion.

You cut another piece of your pancakes. “You can go whenever you want, it isn’t that far from the house.”

He pouted. “I meant all of us together.”

“That’s… a little harder,” you said. “I’m back at work next week and I have a full schedule. You can go together though. John and Alice could join you even if I’m not there.”

Jungkook’s bottom lip stuck out even further. “It isn’t the same without you.”

“If there is a day I finish work early, I might join you.” You could barely drag your feet back home most days after work and the trek to the lake would feel like hell, but you would try for them.

Namjoon seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “You are too tired after work for that. After working for so many hours we can’t expect you to trek down to the lake. You come back after the sun has set or just as it’s setting, it would be exhausting for you to walk for half an hour down to the lake in the dark and then in an hour or so walk back again.”

You wanted to protest but you knew he was right. Although your work wasn’t physically demanding, you spent long hours on your feet, instructing the actors and the crew and checking in with different departments. By the time you were home even dragging your feet to the garden for dinner was a struggle.

You reached for Jungkook’s hand, rubbing your thumb in circles to soothe him. “We’ll figure something out, yeah? If I take a day off–When I take a day off,” you corrected yourself, “we can do something fun. We could go to the lake or we could do something else. Los Angeles is full of places to visit and activities to try.”

Jungkook seemed to think about it for a few seconds before perking up and asking if you could visit a gallery he had seen on the internet. You were quick to agree as Jimin joined as well, asking you about all the places he wanted to visit. You had told them before that they were free to go out without you anywhere they liked, you had printed their papers just in case so they could have them in case the Hybrid Services asked any questions, but they had yet to step further than the Castle grounds and the forest alone. John could also accompany them but no one had taken you up to your offer.

As you were finishing breakfast your phone started ringing. One of the producers of Six of Crows was calling.

“Sorry, I have to take this one,” you said, answering the call.

You ended up having to go down to your office to look up some files on your computer. As the premiere date approached, you would be getting more calls like this. Post-production was finished by now and the movie was nearly ready to be shown on the big screen but there were still a few tiny details that needed fine-tuning.

Ending the call, you checked your emails since you were already in front of your computer. You would probably go to the studios later in the day to speak with a few members of your team on the Raven Cycle project. You wouldn’t stay long but it meant that you had to schedule your day around it. Your break hadn’t ended yet you were already overwhelmed with work. Your to-do list stretched on and on, seemingly endless.

Your back and neck were getting stiff because of all the sitting and lounging around. You should start doing some exercises again. During your break, you had only been to the gym once and it was only two floors down. You should get back into the habit but you were great at finding excuses not to go. You were too busy, too tired, too preoccupied.

There was a knock on the door. You looked at the time at the bottom right corner of your computer screen and realized it was four hours later.

“Come in,” you called. You rolled your neck and heard the little pops. You desperately needed some exercise. And a massage. And an improved posture probably.

Hoseok opened the door with his elbow as he carried a tray inside your office. “I come bearing gifts,” he said with a wide heart-shaped smile. It was like the room instantly brightened. If the sun was personified, it would be Hoseok.

“What have you brought me?” you asked, making space on your desk for the tray. You had to look through some of your old files and they covered most of the surface. You stacked them into piles quickly, to be organized properly at a later time.

“Jin made fruit salad and we have some leftover muffins from yesterday. Jungkook made the juice, it’s banana and cherry!”

The fruit salad was a mix of mango, strawberries, watermelon, blackberries, peaches, and berries. A vanilla muffin was next to it and a tall glass of juice. “Everything looks delicious. Thank you.”

You moved to grab the fork and winced when you pulled on your stiff muscles. Hoseok’s smile faded. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” you were quick to say. “I’ve just been sitting in this chair a lot these past few days and my back is complaining. Really, that’s on me.”

“I…” He hesitated for a moment. “I could give you a massage if you’d like. I’m not a professional but I… I used to give massages to my past owner often. He was an idol so he danced and performed a lot and I had learned from masseurs how to do it. I could do that for you if you liked.”

“You don’t have to. It’s just a stiff back, it’ll go away when I stop sitting all day.”

A massage sounded like heaven at that moment but you could do without it. Giving massages could be tiring and Hoseok didn’t have to do that just because you had bad posture and had stopped going regularly to the gym. If you really needed it, you could pay a masseur to come to your house. It seemed silly so you never did, but you could.

“I want to,” he said eagerly, his tail standing at attention. “I can make you feel better, I promise. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

You searched his face for any sign that he didn’t actually want to do it but you found nothing. “Okay, then. I would love a massage right now.”

“Yay! I will do my best,” Hoseok promised. “Let’s attack those muscle knots! Gently of course.” You giggled as he came to stand behind you. He pretended to crack his fingers before settling them on your shoulders. You were wearing a shirt with spaghetti straps and his hands were warm on your bare skin, which buzzed in anticipation. “Lean forward a little. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

He dug his fingers on either side of your neck and you had to bite your lip to stop a very embarrassing sound from slipping out. It sent a current through your whole body like you went numb to everything except the feeling of his hands on you. He kneaded your muscles, progressively adding more pressure. You closed your eyes, your body relaxing, losing some of the tension.

“That feels good,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I told you.” You could hear the satisfied smile on his face even though you kept your eyes closed.

One by one, your strings unraveled and your body felt lighter, as if you could float away if he pulled his hands away. He worked on the knots on the back of your neck and around it before he moved on to your shoulders and shoulder blades. You had received massages before–you had visited spas with friends on several occasions–but this felt different. You forgot about work and all the things you had to do, all the million little things that were hanging over your head, and for a moment you let yourself relax.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The forest was still, bracketed by the almost black of the night. There were no lights that Yoongi could see coming from inside, even though you said there were multiple holiday homes around the lake. The Castle stood alone, like a real castle guarding the forest.

Hoseok was humming along to a pop song that was playing on his phone, it was at a low volume so his humming was almost as loud as the music. It was late into the night, everyone in the house having already retreated to their rooms. Yoongi didn’t care much about the song, it was generic at best. The vocals weren’t great and the beat was the same beat that every song used this summer with a little tweaking. But Hoseok liked it so he didn’t say anything.

The fox hybrid was sprawled on his bed, his eyes half closed as he moved his head to the music. His silk nightshirt had ridden up to expose a sliver of smooth tanned skin and Yoongi’s eyes kept being drawn to it.

“Anything interesting out there?” Hoseok asked. Yoongi shrugged. “You have been standing there for half an hour. Don’t look at me like that, you have.”

He raised his eyebrows, doubting that it had been that long, but moved away from the balcony door, sitting down on his bed. “It’s the same every night.”

“And you still look every night.” Hoseok turned off the music and stretched. His shirt rode up higher.

Yoongi looked down at his hands. “It’s calming. There is something about the trees and the lake, being away from the city. It’s quiet.”

His ears picked up the soft shuffling before a weight dipped into the bed next to him. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Has it really been only five months since we’ve been here? Less than that? I can’t imagine living in the city again, too much noise.”

Yoongi had lived his whole life in cities, he was used to their noise and the way it never went away. The sound of cars and motorbikes, people talking and shouting. It was never quiet. Not the way it was out here.

He wanted to tell Hoseok that he would never have to live in the city again but he couldn’t. On one hand, your job could lead you anywhere and Yoongi had a feeling that wherever you went, they would follow you, just like Virginia. On the other hand, although some part of him insisted that this was permanent, that this life they had built here wouldn’t be taken from them, he knew that the world wasn’t so kind. Sometimes, he stayed up at night thinking about it while Hoseok dreamed. He gazed at the forest to remind himself that they were still here, in this small paradise on earth, and then contemplated all the ways this could end. His mind wasn’t kind to him on those nights.

“Virginia was like this too,” Hoseok continued. “I miss it a little. The countryside was pretty and the house too. Almost like a fairytale. Do you think we’ll go back again?”

Hoseok’s hand was fidgeting on his thigh and Yoongi grabbed it to still it. “Maybe. She will have to film another season after this one. If this show is as successful as they say, there will be a few more seasons to come. They built sets and everything there.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Hoseok scooted closer to him and laid his head on his shoulder, their hands intertwined. “Do you think she will rent the same house? I want to go back there. It felt like home.”

Yoongi refrained from telling him that wherever he was, it felt like home. It was something someone more expressive than Yoongi would say, instead he said, “We can ask her. I don’t think she’ll mind. If it isn’t booked at the time, we could stay there again.”

“I’ll recruit Jiminie, she can’t say no to him,” he said, nuzzling closer to Yoongi’s neck, almost scenting him.

“She can’t say no to any of you.”

Hoseok hummed, his breath warming Yoongi’s skin and the scent of cinnamon tickling his lungs. “She wouldn’t say no to you either. If you ever asked her for anything.”

Yoongi didn’t know what to think about that. If he believed it. Yoongi had been trying to do better, trying to be a better person than he had been at the beginning. He would hate himself if he ever put you through what he had before. He would be making it up to you for his whole life. He wasn’t the same as the other hybrids, the same courtesy shouldn’t be extended to him.

Hoseok’s lips brushed his neck, light as a feather, and Yoongi shivered at the touch. Scenting each other wasn’t something new, they had been doing that since they escaped the ring. Before that, they would brush their wrists together through the bars of their cages, longing for the small comfort of each other’s scent. After Yoongi had disappeared, Hoseok had been touching and scenting him more as if he was afraid that he would slip through his fingers.

Some nights, Hoseok would crawl into his bed in the middle of the night and cling on to him. “Stay,” Hoseok would say. He didn’t tell him what his nightmares were about, he didn’t have to.

Yoongi vowed to himself to never leave him again. He would bite, scratch, and kick his way to him if he ever had to.

He had a lot to regret about that first month. He hadn’t only hurt you, he had hurt everyone else too. His own nightmares persisted, leaving him clutching the sheets, with his back to Hoseok, staying deadly still so he wouldn’t wake him up. So no one would know that those days still haunted him even though he wasn’t the one who had suffered.

In some of his dreams, the hybrid ring got to him before you did and punished him for escaping, before stabbing an injection in his neck and hauling him to the ring for one last fight. In others, it was Hoseok that they took and those were worse. They found him when he was looking for him and Yoongi could do nothing to stop them, voiceless with his feet rooted to the floor.

In some rare ones, he never made it out of the house. Namjoon threw him against the wall and held him there, looking more like a vengeful god than the real Namjoon. His sharp teeth gleamed viciously as he sunk them into Yoongi’s neck, breaking the skin and ripping out everything that was keeping him alive.

Hoseok pulled back, his eyes searching Yoongi’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thinking.” Of course, Hoseok would notice his thoughts spiraling. Yoongi had mastered hiding all emotions from his face but Hoseok could see right through any masks he crafted.

“You looked a little lost there for a moment,” he said, drawing closer to him again. “You can talk to me, you know.” He spoke almost jokingly but he couldn’t hide the tendrils of hurt in his voice. “I know you like to keep some things to yourself… But I’m here for you. I would never judge you, I swear.”

Yoongi was a coward. After his talk with Jimin, he had been planning to tell him everything but he kept putting it off. It was never the right moment, it could wait.

“I know,” Yoongi said quietly, squeezing Hoseok’s hand. “I want to tell you. I think you deserve that after everything.”

Hoseok frowned. “It isn’t about what I deserve. I just want to know so I can help. So I can understand you better. Nothing you say can ever change the way I see you. Nothing. You were there for me when I thought my life was over, that everything was over. You saved me, Yoongi. I would have died in there if it hadn’t been for you. I would trust you with my life. But sometimes, when you don’t tell me things—important things—it makes me feel like you don’t trust me at all.”

Yoongi’s heart gave a terrible bang. “That isn’t true. I trust you. I trust you more than anyone. I trust you more than I trust myself. It’s just… It’s hard to tell you when I want to forget.”

“I understand,” Hoseok said, his gaze falling on their joined hands on Yoongi’s lap. “But I don’t think you can forget either way.”

“You’re right, I can’t. And I never will.” It was too big, too cruel. For worse or for better, it had changed who he was to his core. He was who he was because of what had happened to him and Jimin. He had met both Jimin and Hoseok because of that monster. “But I want you to know now.”

So he told him everything. He detached himself from his words and numbed his feelings, because he was afraid that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He started from the beginning, from his first owner to the terrible end. He couldn’t look at him as he spoke, focusing on their connected hands. Hoseok’s scent soured until Yoongi could barely recognize it. But he had to power on.

When he was finished, Hoseok shot up, wrapping his arms around him impossibly hard and buried his face in Yoongi’s neck. There was wetness brushing against his throat and Yoongi only hugged him tighter.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok’s voice was breaking and Yoongi hated that he was the cause for it, even though it was better this way. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He brought his wrist to Hoseok’s neck, gently scenting him. They both needed it. “You saved me too. You saved me, Hobi.”

And sleep claimed them like that, wrapped up in each other with dried tears on their cheeks.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Taehyung lay still in his bed, not making a sound. Phantom pains spread over his body, squeezing and squeezing until nothing was left of him. His head was loud but the sounds were muffled as if he was submerged underwater.

The room was illuminated by the soft light from the lamp next to his bed. He left it on every night. It was the same pattern, his nightmares not allowing him to rest more than a few hours at a time. There were new ones now. Ones of the red ballroom, the people in the chairs turning into monsters and dragging their claws all over his skin. You stood among them in your green dress, watching as it happened, your face empty.

Taehyung opened his eyes. He could see the forest from his room. He had never been to a forest before coming to the Castle, had never even seen one. It was majestic, the dark greens and browns, the way the branches reached towards the sky. Upwards and upwards.

He closed his eyes again. His tears had long dried when sleep swept him away again.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Your heartbeat rattled your chest as if being chased by an invisible force with no escape. You swallowed down the bitterness in your mouth and willed the sharp images of your nightmare away. They were so clear, the red curtains and the shiny floors. The taste of the expensive champagne and the hors d’ oeuvre on your tongue. Long dresses swayed at your vision's edge, silk, velvet, and satin. Steady hands held guns aimed at you, they went off with a terrible scream. You woke up.

You were awake. You were in your room in the Castle. You were safe.

You tried to calm down your erratic breathing. Jimin was sleeping next to you and the last thing you wanted was to wake him up in the middle of the night and worry him. Clenching your teeth, you silently counted each breath. Were your hands shaking? They felt like they were shaking.

One, two, three.

Slower. Try slower.

Did your hands stop shaking? You gripped the fabric of your nightgown.

One, two–

A sleepy voice calling your name disturbed the murky waters of your mind. “Are you okay?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was over. You were in Los Angeles. You were fine. Nothing had happened to you, no one had questioned you. You had gotten out. You were fine.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked. Your voice sounded weak even to your ears.

You heard the sheets rustle as Jimin moved closer. “Can I hug you?”

In the darkness of the room, you couldn’t see him well, only the shape of his body. “You don’t have to ask.”

“You are shaking.”

Were you? So it wasn’t just your hands. Another deep breath. Force your muscles to relax like the pieces of a machine.

“I am okay now, don’t worry. Come here.” You opened your arms and Jimin crawled into them, hugging your waist and laying his head on your collarbones. “Go back to sleep, kitten.”

Jimin shook his head. “Not if you don’t. What happened?”

“Just a bad dream, it was nothing.” The lies tasted bitter on your tongue. Were they lies though? It should be nothing, it shouldn’t be haunting you like that. Nothing had happened to you, you reminded yourself as if you repeated it enough times maybe the nightmares would go away. “I just need a few minutes to forget it.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe that could be better than forgetting,” Jimin said.

But forgetting was the goal. Or at least getting rid of the nightmares that shouldn’t still be happening. It was over and you were okay. You were okay. There was no reason to worry Jimin, not when you weren’t the one who had suffered. You got dressed up, drank some champagne and made small talk. It wasn’t the end of the world.

“You don’t have to worry about this, it’ll go away on its own.” You run a hand up his back to comfort him. “My brain is just playing tricks on me.”

Jimin’s hand sought out your own and intertwined your fingers. He was quiet for a few moments before speaking, “Is this about the auction?”

You stilled. He couldn’t have known. You hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. And what right did you have to complain about it? You composed yourself. “How did you guess?”

“You have been… different since you came back. You have been lost in your head. I know you are tired and it’s hard with Taehyung now but you can talk to us if you want to. It must have been really scary.” He drew closer to you, gripping your hand tighter.

“I wasn’t alone. I had John there with me.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t scary,” he whispered. “We were scared for you. We thought– We trusted you but we were scared.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair and rubbed behind his cat ears which you knew would relax him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. Taehyung is here now.”

Regardless of how many nightmares you had and the tightening in your chest whenever you saw the color of blood. Regardless of the constant fear of being discovered that would never go away. You could never regret what you had done. Not for a moment. Just thinking of Taehyung in that man’s hands evaporated any doubts you had about your decision.

Jimin nosed softly at your collarbones. “We love you. It’s okay to be scared, you can share it with us. You can share it with me.”

“I’m not scared,” you said. It didn’t matter that it sounded like you were lying to yourself. “It’s over. It’s been more than a week since it happened. I’m the last person who should be having nightmares over it.”

“Why are you saying that? It must have been terrifying.”

You took a deep breath, the red bleeding into the darkness. “It was easy to blend in. It was like so many of the parties and galas I have attended. I was the guest of honor, no one suspected anything. I wasn’t the one–”

You cut yourself off before you uttered the words but both of you knew. Silence fell between you. You wished you could fall asleep again but sleep was so far away.

“Do you feel guilty?” he asked quietly.

“For what?” You were confused. Why would you feel guilty? You had done your best, probably more than anyone in their right mind would do.

Jimin gave a small shrug, bringing your joined hands to your chest. “You just sounded like it. Like you felt guilty for having nightmares about it. You don’t have to be. You are here and you are okay but– But you could have not been.” There was fear in his voice and it hurt.

You held him closer and squeezed his hand. You were there now and you wouldn’t be going anywhere. His breath warmed your bare skin. You weren’t alone anymore, you had seven people to think about when you made decisions. You had a home and you would fight to get back to it every time.

“Let’s go to sleep, kitten. We’ll dream better together.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

After your short break, your return to work was uneventful. A few more days would have been nice but time was moving fast and there were a lot of things to do. On your first day back, before you had left the house Jimin and Jungkook got teary-eyed saying goodbye to you. Going back to work was hard for you too after being used to staying at home with them, but you would fall into your usual routine soon enough.

Your work was a big part of who you were, returning to the studios was like returning home in a way. The cast and the crew greeted you warmly with hugs and pats on the back. Will handed you a pack of papers and you made your way together to the reading room. You would be doing a few read-throughs to get the actors familiar with the characters again and work through a few knots in the script.

It was the same way it had been, waking up at the crack of dawn and returning when the sun was descending in the sky. The hybrids clung to you in any way they could while you were home. At breakfast and dinner, there was always someone touching you, Jimin sitting on your lap or Namjoon holding your hand or Jungkook hugging you from behind. They missed you and you missed them too but there was little you could do.

In the quiet of the night when most of the hybrids had retired, you asked Hoseok how Taehyung was adjusting. The answer was always the same. Hopeful but disappointing as well—guilt ate at you for feeling disappointed when you knew Taehyung was doing his best.

The story of the Raven Boys unraveled during the days and the nights. Your copy of the script was overflowing with red ink, underlined lines, and writing in the margins. It was shaping up to become everything you had envisioned and more. And you were happy. But you also missed spending more than a few hours at the Castle.

You could invite them to join you for filming and spend a little more time with them. However, you had a one-track mind while you were working and you couldn’t provide the attention they deserved. Often, you got too lost in your work. You could feel it now, clouding your mind and blending the days into a string of numbered scenes and takes.

It was a blessing that one week into filming, you finished early, just a couple of hours after lunch, and instead of staying and obsessing over the smallest details like you were prone to doing, you packed your backpack and returned home. John drove you back with instructions to relax and not think about work until the next morning. You didn’t mind listening to him.

“I’m home,” you shouted after opening the door. Due to their sensitive hearing any hybrid on the top two floors would hear the door opening, you liked to let them know it was you so they wouldn’t worry. You had wanted to surprise them so you hadn’t texted that you were coming back.

Jimin and Hoseok were the first ones to rush to the living room. Jimin fell into your arms with practiced ease and buried his face in your neck.

“Surprise,” you said, ruffling his blond hair.

He purred in contentment. Hoseok also joined the hug, his fluffy tail wrapping around your legs.

“Are you staying?” Jimin asked, his eyes shining with hope.

“I am. We finished early today so I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

Jimin cheered and held onto your hand, following you into the kitchen where you poured yourself a glass of homemade lemonade from the fridge. A book and a few notebooks were spread over the kitchen island and you took a closer look at them. You recognized the textbook as one you had bought a few years ago during your first visit to Seoul for the press tour of one of your Oscar-winning films. You had read through the first few pages on the plane back to LA and when you had arrived you had placed it on the shelf that housed all your language-learning books and never picked it up again.

“Are you learning Korean?” you asked Jimin, scanning the awkward handwritten Korean letters in the pages of the notebook.

Flustered, Jimin didn’t look at you as he replied, “Hoseok is helping me. I thought I could communicate better with Taehyung if I knew a bit of Korean but it’s really hard.”

“He’s doing really well though,” Hoseok interjected with pride. “He is getting good at reading Hangul and he knows a few basic phrases too. He is learning very quickly.”

Jimin shrugged, his cheeks getting adorably rosy. “I have a great teacher.”

Hoseok cooed at the younger hybrid while you flipped through the pages of the textbook. You recognized your handwriting on the first few, you had written down a few questions you had so you could look them up later, which didn’t happen. Now, the answers were written underneath your questions in blue ink. The next pages were marked in both Jimin’s and Hoseok’s handwriting, there were notes in the margins and between lines and little doodles of flowers and butterflies.

Footsteps climbing up the stairs prompted you to let go of the notebook. Jungkook came running through the kitchen door and threw himself at you, nuzzling into your neck. You planted your feet on the ground and caught him just in time before you both went flying back.

“You’re back,” he whispered. He was bouncing on his feet, his excitement contagious.

“We finished early so I packed everything up and rushed back,” you said. “Has it been that long since I was back at a normal hour?”

Jungkook nodded resolutely and you couldn’t help but giggle. The truth was that it was the first time you were finishing early since filming had started again. The first week back was the busiest since you had to review everything, redraw most of the plans, check in with every department, and generally when you weren’t actively filming you spent them running around the studios like a headless chicken.

You should get a day off as soon as you could. For a workaholic, you missed being at home with them too much.

Namjoon and Seokjin were the next ones to appear at the kitchen door. Jungkook still hadn’t let go of you so they were content to leave twin kisses on your cheeks while teasing the bunny hybrid.

“Is Yoongi with Taehyung?” you asked, noting the absence of the two hybrids.

“They are in the garden,” Namjoon said, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Yoongi has been lounging in the sunlight since we finished lunch.”

“He’s starting to gain some color, he looks less like a ghost these days,” Seokjin joked. “Sometimes I think he is more cat than Jimin is.”

You laughed with them before your attention was drawn back to the textbook. It was hard learning a new language, you knew that very well. It could take years to reach a decent level depending on your dedication and the language itself. You remembered Alice suggesting you should learn Korean to communicate better with Taehyung. Jimin was doing just that without anyone asking him to and by the handwriting on a good chunk of the textbook, he had been doing it for some time.

Namjoon also took an interest in the textbook but he already seemed to know that Jimin had been studying the language.

“I would like to learn to,” he said. “I didn’t have to chance to learn another language in the past and it would be beneficial if we could communicate with Taehyung in his mother tongue. Maybe it would get him to open up more.”

Seokjin nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. I would like to learn a bit of Korean too.”

“I could teach you a few things,” Hoseok offered. “But I’m not a teacher, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. I can teach you a few words or phrases but”, he glanced at Jimin with a guilty look, “we are having some trouble with grammar.”

“That makes sense,” you reassured him. “It is very different speaking a language, especially when it’s your mother tongue, and teaching it to someone else. That’s why there are university courses for it. It’s a difficult job. But if you really want to learn Korean, I could find you a teacher who specializes in it. That way Hobi would have less on his plate as well.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Really? Can you do that?”

“Of course, I can,” you said. “I can find the best Korean teacher in Los Angeles and I can ask them to come here so you won’t have to go to the city. I’ll have to provide transportation of course. How does that sound?”

“Amazing,” Jimin cheered and hugged you again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

The least because you couldn’t do the same. You didn’t have the time or the energy to learn another language when most of your day was taken up by your work. During the days you were at the studios and at nights often you had to retire to your office to answer emails and revise scripts before going to sleep. The best you could manage would be to learn a few basic phrases but that wouldn’t be helping anyone.

The arrangements for the teacher were easy. You didn’t have to look long on the internet and after a few calls you had found the perfect candidate who was more than happy to make the trip to the Castle three times a week and stay for three hours to teach the hybrids. You added a very generous bonus for her trouble.

Before finalizing the contract, you talked with Hoseok about an idea you had.

“She could help Taehyung with his English as well. A couple of hours a week could help a lot,” you suggested.

Hoseok was on washing duty after dinner and Taehyung had gone to his room for the night so it was the perfect opportunity to talk to him about this.

“It’s a great idea, if he wants to. I do my best but… I don’t think I’m helping on this,” Hoseok said, scrubbing a plate with the sponge. Foam was everywhere.

You rubbed his arm soothingly. “You’re doing amazing. Much better than I could have hoped for. But I know it’s hard for you and I wish there was a way to help you. I’m sorry I can’t do much.”

Hoseok shrugged, bubbles rising above the dishes. “You are doing the best you can, given the situation. You have already done more than anyone would have expected of you.”

Laughter floated in from the living room. You smiled through your exhaustion.

“Ask Taehyung about the teacher, okay? And tell him it’s your idea, not mine. I don’t want him to accept because I am the one asking.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jimin ran down the stairs, laughing wildly. Energy coursed through his veins and urgency pushed his legs to run faster and faster. He felt like a nymph in Land of the Gods, running through their trees, their hair flowing like an enchantment and laughing and laughing. He didn’t look at his pursuer, he knew who he was and it only filled him with delight.

The rooms blurred as he passed by, never losing his footing. He emerged in the garden and the sun kissed his skin, the fire inside him burning hotter in the heat. The green stretched around him and for a moment, he got the crazy desire to go into the forest and get lost there, underneath the shade of the tall trees. He wanted to dance and drink and eat juicy fruits between the trees like the fae in the stories you told them yesterday night.

Maybe one day.

Instead, he rushed to the stairs that led down to their room. The footsteps behind him were getting closer and he pushed himself to go faster, flying down the stairs.

There was nowhere else to go now and he paused in front of their bed. It was enough time for two hands to wrap around his waist and tackle him on the mattress. He resisted a little, just for show, before wrapping his own arms around broad shoulders and laughing some more. He felt like a child, in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

“You can’t escape from me,” Jungkook said, hovering above him.

“I didn’t try,” Jimin replied, running his hands over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck. “Bunnies are supposed to be fast, aren’t they? But you only caught me when I had nowhere else to go.”

Jungkook leaned into his touch. “I would have caught you anyway. You couldn’t run forever. Now you’re mine.”

He lowered himself until their bodies were merged together. He sniffed at Jimin’s neck, taking in his scent like he had done so many times, before rubbing his nose and his cheek over his scent gland. Jimin couldn’t stop the purrs that escaped him as his body melted. His hands tangled in Jungkook’s hair, who made an appreciative sound.

The scent of pears and gardenias was everywhere, it was deliciously overwhelming. He could almost taste the sweetness and tanginess of the pears on his tongue.

He tugged on Jungkook’s hair before he could lose his mind. “My turn.”

Jungkook arched his neck back to allow Jimin to scent him. He quickly found his scent gland and buried his face there. He closed his eyes and a garden bloomed behind his eyelids.

Jungkook’s scent was so sweet and it was mouth-watering combined with the pack’s scents. He could smell his own scent there and Namjoon’s scent of summer rain and pine trees was enveloping everything. The aroma of honey buns and sweet milk glazed over them like sugar and notes of cinnamon and sandalwood pushed through. If he looked for it, he could detect your scent, naturally fainter than hybrids’. Greedily, he searched for two more scents but he could only get the impression of dark chocolate. He might have imagined it.

“I’m happy,” Jmin whispered like it was a secret. There was the irrational fear that if he said it any louder, he would tempt fate to take it back.

“I’m happy too,” Jungkook said, laying his head on Jimin’s chest.

Jimin tangled his hands in his hair and massaged his scalp, he was rewarded with a pleased sigh. “It’s like everything has finally fallen into place. I’m not sad anymore. I didn’t realize how sad I was until I wasn’t. Even when I was happy, I was sad too. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to.” Jungkook caught his hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing kisses on the back of it. Jimin’s heart fluttered with the wings of thousands of butterflies. “All that matters to me is that you aren’t anymore. I only want you to be happy. I know it isn’t possible to be happy all the time but I want us all to be happy. Together and happy.”

“Together and happy,” Jimin repeated quietly.

Every time he was was with Jungkook like that, his mind strayed. It went to all the possibilities, all the could-have-beens and the what-ifs. What would have happened if Jimin wasn’t a coward, if he hadn’t run away? If he had told you what had happened before, would he have been braver? Did Jungkook feel the same after everything that happened? Did he still want to kiss him?

His bunny was so beautiful, his soft dark brown ears that flopped against his hair, his cute nose and large eyes that held the galaxy inside them. Everything about him was beautiful and Jimin loved him so much he could burst. He wasn’t sure if it was right to love him like this, to want to kiss him and hold him like lovers did but he trusted you when you said that it was okay.

Lost in his thoughts, he tugged lightly on Jungkook’s hair, who let out a sound that lit a fire inside him. It was a moan, Jungkook had moaned.

His cheeks growing red, he looked at Jimin like a deer caught in headlines. “I’m sorry! I didn’t- I shouldn’t-”

“Jungkookie, it’s okay.”

“No, no. I’m sorry,” he continued quickly. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m-”

“Jungkook,” Jimin said more firmly. “It’s okay. Really. I didn’t mind. You… sounded good.”

“Good?” Jungkook asked confused. And his eyes, how could his eyes hold so many stars inside them?

Slowly, Jimin tugged at his hair again. “Yeah, good. I liked it.”

“Oh.”

They looked at each other and the world faded around them. There was only them, them and the heat brewing between them.

“Do you-” Jimin looked away. He couldn’t just ask him like that. But what else could he say? “I love you, I love you so much. I never want you to forget. Anything that may happen, I’ll still love you.”

“I love you too, you know I do. You are my Jiminie. I would do anything for you.” He bit his bottom lip and Jimin wished he was the one doing it instead. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just wanted you to know,” he said, cupping Jungkook’s face. His skin was the highest quality of silk and satin under his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so difficult, so… scarred.”

Jungkook’s hand covered his and his gaze was unyielding, it didn’t allow him to look away. “Never apologize for that. Never. You aren’t difficult, you are incredible. You are strong, stronger than I could ever hope to be. Your scars don’t define you. I met you with your scars and I love you with them all the same. I don’t care if I have to be a little more careful or if I have to hold you a little closer sometimes. Just being close to you is all I need.”

There was a stinging behind Jimin’s eyes. “My baby,” he said like a prayer. An invisible thread pulled him closer to Jungkook until only a breath separated them. “Can I kiss you?”

“Kiss me?”

Jimin hated the doubt and the fear in his voice, he grieved that he had been the one to put it there. “I want to, I promise. It’s okay, I talked with Y/N. I’ve been so stupid. I want to kiss you so much, baby.”

“Please. Please, kiss me,” he said, voice breaking.

Their lips came together softly. There was no rush, no harshness, only love and patience. He was warm, warmer than he had ever felt. He was safe in Jungkook’s arms, hidden away in the Castle, in their home. Sweetness coated his lips. He might not deserve this, might be too broken for this but he never wanted to let go.

Two tears rolled down his cheeks. Catharsis.

Jungkook pulled back in panicked haste. “Did I hurt you? Did-”

Jimin let his tears run their course down to his neck in favor of cupping Jungkook’s face. “You could never hurt me. They’re happy tears. I’m very happy.”

The tension in Jungkook’s face eased and Jimin pulled him closer again. As he kissed him, he tasted love and freedom. He tasted of healing.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The grand piano stood by the glass wall in the living room, polished until the black surface reflected the light like a mirror. It was a thing of beauty, a gem dipped in luxury to decorate a rich household. For Yoongi, it was so much more.

It was a few hours until you would be back home and the sun was setting behind the forest. The lights were off in the living room and it was painted in the red, gold and pink of the sunset. You would be back later than usual, the filming schedule was packed for the day and after that was done you would visit the headquarters of the production company. You had told them to eat dinner without you.

Yoongi’s fingers flew over the black and white keys. He closed his eyes and focused on the music. Each note was a bright light in the darkness behind his eyelids. It was easy to get lost in the music, in the feelings it evoked and in the pictures it weaved.

He heard it when Taehyung arrived. He didn’t speak, gave him space to go away if he wanted or simply listen in silence. The melody grew more tender.

Taehyung didn’t go away, he drew closer. He hesitated before sitting on the bench next to him, leaving a small space between them. The song blended into the next one and the next one until the familiar stiffness spread over Yoongi’s fingers and he stopped.

Outside, the reds and golds had turned into purples and deep blues. Yoongi would have to turn on the lights soon.

“Do you want to try?” Yoongi asked when the silence stretched and Taehyung didn’t seem to find the words he was looking for.

Taehyung looked at the piano in quiet wonder. “Can I?”

He was so young and it made Yoongi furious that some bastards had carved the innocence and joy out of him. He wanted to find the monsters who had done this to him and tear them apart limb by limb.

His long fingers hovered over the keys. “How?”

“Just do whatever feels right.”

Taehyung pressed the keys one by one at first, the faint lines of a smile appearing on his face at every new sound. Progressively he got braver, pressing keys together and creating disjointed melodies.

“Together?” Taehyung asked shyly.

Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#bts #bts x reader #bts hybrid au #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #seokjin x reader #poly!bts x reader #bts poly #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts hurt/comfort #bts angst #fluff

[lilprincegoo]

In a Field of Asphodels by Seemylia

ot7

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Sickness, Suppressants overdose, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Anxiety, Smut Eventually, Unintentional Medication Overdose, Fluff

49.3k words

rating: E

Jeongguk loves his boyfriends so much. He would do anything for them. Including leaving them and denying his own biology if he has to. —— —and Jeongguk couldn't stop the hot guilt from pooling in his stomach. That was his fault. He didn't know why exactly, if it was because he lost track of time, didn't text, if it was because of something else— but it was his fault. It had to be. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice—" he started, only to be interrupted— Oh.

#ship: poly #ship: ot7 #jungkook-centric #au: a/b/o #omega jungkook #alpha yoongi #alpha seokjin #omega jimin #beta taehyung #alpha namjoon #alpha hoseok #angst #hurt/comfort #misunderstandings #miscommunication #anxiety #jungkook ship #ao3 #bts ficrec #bts fic rec

[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (3)

creature comforts:

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

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

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

→ word count: 4.7k

→ summary: after you wake up in a strange place with strange men, you begin to experience kindness for the first time in months, as the boys begin to realize that you aren’t the person that they used to know.

→ trigger/content warnings: effects of isolation, sensory overload, effects of memory loss, low self-worth, jin is a goddamn sweetheart, mentions of torture, mentions of starvation, angst lol, over-complicated plot cause it’s fanfiction lol, the boys trying their best

→ a/n: also lil disclaimer i am obviously not a doctor so kindly disregard any medical impracticalities that may arise thanks loves :)

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 3: when you forget me

“Who did this to you?”

Staring up into the eyes of the man leaning over you, a shiver runs through your body at the deep, even tone of his voice. For a long moment, you can’t speak, too distracted by the fact that his attention is directed entirely at you.

The dark piercing eyes, the delicate curve of his mouth, the black curly hair hanging over his forehead. It all shocks you still with something you can’t name. Not quite familiarity, but a sense that whoever this man is, it’s a good idea to listen to him.

You sit there choking on your own words as his eyes search your face.

“Are you afraid?” he simply asks.

You nod, tongue dry in your mouth. 

His eyebrows furrow slightly. He seems to be staring even deeper into your eyes than before, searching for something.

“Joon,” the man calls, a touch of urgency in his voice.

One of the taller ones, the man with short brown hair, approaches you. And you can’t help but notice his build.

He’s broad with long, thick limbs, no doubt bulked with muscle beneath his many layers. It would be easy for him to overpower you. Hurt you.

Instinctively, you flinch back as he gets closer.

He drops to one knee to meet your eye level, softening his expression when you meet his gaze.

“Hey, hey,” he begins in a calming tone, seemingly sensing your rising anxiety at being confronted. “None of us are going to hurt you. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.” 

You don’t believe him. Of course you don’t. But something about his warm eyes, the deep sincerity that lies behind them, makes you release a breath and nod anyway. Or maybe it’s the way that strange feeling in your chest quivers at the sound of his voice.

Offering a slight smile, he then holds up his hands cautiously.

“May I touch your forehead?” he asks.

As if the rhythm of your brain skips a beat, you reel at the question. He's...asking for permission?

You manage a slight nod, watching him closely as he lifts his hands and places one flat against your forehead and the other at the back of your neck.

The others are watching intently, making the air prickle.

Heat blooms under the man’s large hands, spreading down your spine and into your very bones.

Wisps of smoke dance along the edge of your vision. It seems to be coming from him, seeping from his hands, from his mouth, his eyes, which are now clouded over with a milky white film.

A tickling feeling, like the sensation of a string creeping down your throat, seizes your whole body and mind. It’s hot and cool at the same time, singeing your nerve endings yet soothing them as the sensation travels.

Too invasive, it’s too invasive.

It only lasts for a few seconds before you’re jerking out of his grasp. You huff smoke out of your own lungs, desperately trying to expel the strange force that’s permeated your whole body.

Several of the others flinch too. They all seem to be honed in on your every reaction, twitching when you twitch, breath hitching along with yours.

The man withdraws his hands with a placating expression, rising to his feet and backing away to give you some space.

You barely hear it, but he leans over and whispers in Yoongi’s ear.

“We all need to talk. Now.”

You see the smaller man’s jaw clench. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his entire face darkens.

One blink later, and it’s gone, replaced by an expression so heavy, so broken that it nearly brings a sting to your eye.

The only other person Yoongi can bring himself to make eye contact with is Jin.

His hyung understands immediately, letting his eyelids slowly close as all his suspicions are confirmed. He had an inkling, when he found you in that prison cell and you looked at him like he was a stranger. He supposes that now, he essentially is one to you.

It feels like a hit to the gut. He feels the deep ache in the pit of his chest, raw with the knowledge that what’s done can’t be undone. And it hurts like hell.

But he can’t break down now, not in front of the boys, and certainly not in front of you. Your understanding of the situation is extremely fragile right now, and he knows that he needs to lead by example so you can be as comfortable as possible, so you know that you’re safe here with them.

So Jin inhales a clear breath, swallows down his sorrow, and musters up the most composed expression he can manage.

“Alright,” he begins, the whole room looking at him after he breaks the silence, looking for guidance.

“Let’s get you fixed up, hmm?”

You don’t realize that he’s talking to you until he takes a step forward and gestures in your direction.

“Will you follow me?”

You’re realizing that no one is punishing you for making eye contact without permission, so you meet his gaze with a little less hesitation.

The man waits patiently, nothing but gentle concern in his eyes.

Your skin tingles with the feeling of everyone’s gaze on you again, and after your brain slowly processes the question, you rise shakily to your feet and follow him through a nearby doorway.

It’s only after Jin exits the room, after his back is turned, that he lets a few silent tears fall into his sleeve, quick to wipe them away. Because now he needs to do what he does best: heal his clan.

Exhaustion, hunger, and fizzling adrenaline buzz through your veins, your body burned out from running even a short distance. It’s a laborious task to just put one foot in front of the other, but you focus hard to keep up with the man leading you down the hall.

Every step makes your vision blurrier. You can hear your own struggled breathing, feel the burning in your limbs, but the only thing you know how to do is push on and mask how it feels.

Don’t express emotions. Don’t show your pain. It always makes it worse.

Jin pretends not to notice. He has to fight the urge to offer you his arm to lean on, knowing it probably wouldn’t do any good.

You have no idea how long you were asleep or how long you’ve been here, wherever here is. These men don’t seem like a severe threat, at least not now. They haven’t hit you, called you names, spit on you for making noise. But they could be putting on a front, trying to establish a false sense of security.

You’re not letting your guard down anytime soon.

The two of you come to a large, clean room. It’s well-lit, making you squint your eyes against the brightness.

It’s so bright here. And spacious too. Every room seems as wide as a football field.

The man directs you to a bed lined with paper, and you flinch as you sit down, making much more noise than you wanted.

But he doesn’t seem angered by it, he only turns to one of the many cabinets lining the walls.

The familiar squeak and snap of medical gloves. It puts a heavy pit in your stomach. Clenching your teeth, you try to ignore the swell of nausea.

You hear some shuffling, the clink of glass, and then the man is sitting down in a rolling chair next to the bed.

“Do you recognize me?” he asks, slipping a pair of black glasses out of his shirt pocket and putting them on.

A flash of the ashen, vein-mapped face ignites in your memory.

“Yes,” you reply softly, almost flinching at the sound of your own voice in the quiet room.

“Who am I?” He’s looking at you patiently, but there’s a hint of desperation behind it.

“You were in my cell. You’re a—”

Cutting yourself off immediately, you can’t help but recall all the names your captors used to refer to them.

Parasites. Bloodsuckers. Demon spawn.

The man seems to read your mind, but his eyes stay nothing but patient and kind.

“I’m vampiric, yes.”

He busies himself opening a gauze pad and dousing it with disinfectant. When he looks back up at you, it’s with a questioning gaze.

“May I clean your cuts?”

You sit there dumbstruck for a moment. You can’t remember the last time someone cleaned anything for you, let alone asked for permission to do it as if you have some kind of agency. Or spoke to you so...gently.

After a few seconds of silence, you manage a nod.

He offers a slight smile and starts with the shallow cuts and scrapes on your hands. They are overlapped with scars, dirt and dried blood caked under your fingernails.

His touch is warm. It almost makes you jump, the way his skin feels like human skin. You were always told that they were cold creatures, more dead than alive.

Then there’s the alcoholic sting of the disinfectant. That makes you actually jump, but you fight the urge to pull away in case it ends in more pain.

“I’m sorry, it’s going to sting,” he says.

Why is he apologizing? Why is he treating you like this? Like you’re a human and not a creature?

He moves up to the more deep gashes on your arms, applying cream to the worst of them and bandaging them up.

“My name’s Jin. It’s nice to be formally introduced,” the man says, smiling a little painfully.

It hurts him to say it, to admit that he needs to re-introduce himself to you. But at least you’re letting him tend to your wounds. Right now, that’s all he can ask for.

You sit there silently as he moves all the way up to your shoulders, avoiding putting pressure on the deep purple bruises that litter your skin.

“What’s your name?” He knows it, of course he does. And again it hurts to ask, but he knows that this is the best way to go about it, rather than overloading you with the fact that you’ve been here before, that you already know them all.

The question stumps you. You’ve been called many names. Mutt, beast, savage, monster. You don’t remember ever being called anything else.

The man—Jin—seems to sense your inner struggle.

“Can you remember it?” he asks.

With your eyes trained down at the floor, you shake your head.

“Hmm,” he replies, thinking. “Well that just won’t do. What would you like to be called?”

That stumps you even more. Your mind goes as blank as your memory.

Several minutes of silence pass as he tends to the wounds on your neck and face.

The more he looks, the more his blood boils. Your neck is badly bruised, with painful-looking red rub marks all the way around, as if it’s been abused with a number of different things. A tight fist, a ring of rope, a collar.

Your face is covered in scars and yellowing black bruises. Chunks of hair have been ripped from your skull, not to mention that fact that most of your hair has been sloppily cut.

It all makes him want to tear the throats of everyone even associated with that facility. Looking at your face, at the poorly hidden terror that resides in it, Jin tries his hardest to mask his anger so you aren’t frightened by it.

Jin checks for signs of infection while he dabs at the lesions. He notices that you barely flinch, even when it’s clear that you want to. He wonders, feeling sick to his stomach, what happened in that horrifying place.

“You’ve been through a lot of pain,” he says, and you can hear deep sympathy in his voice.

It’s unusual to you, hearing someone sound sorry for you.

You don’t reply, looking down at the floor again.

A few minutes pass, with him continuing to patch up your wounds while you sit there motionless. After Jin finishes the last bandage, he hesitates, looking at you with another question in his eyes.

“Wound you mind removing your shirt?”

It makes you turn cold, arms unconsciously wrapping protectively around yourself.

“No? Okay, we don’t have to do that,” he says almost immediately, shifting his attention to your legs instead.

“Any internal pain or other symptoms?”

You only answer with a dull shake of your head when he looks up at you expectantly.

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe you for a second.

“It’s okay to tell me. I’m a doctor.”

You still don’t say anything, despite the sharp pain in your stomach and the incessant pounding in your head. Too many times you’ve encountered doctors that did nothing but use their knowledge of your body against you.

The last thing you want to do is admit weakness.

For a very brief moment, Jin’s face flashes with disappointment, and you feel your gut lurch with guilt. The next second he’s gathering more equipment from the cart next to the bed.

“Would you mind if I did a few more basic checks?” he asks.

This time you indulge him with a slight nod, and you’re rewarded with a smile that plumps up his cheeks and makes that something in your chest jump.

He checks your heartbeat, your temperature, your blood pressure, among other things that you don’t recognize.

You accept it all with quiet compliance, still fighting the urge to flinch away with every touch. Because every time he touches you, your heartbeat stalls against your will, heat blazing across the spot where his skin met yours.

He always treats you softly and with compassion, making your eyes burn with the urge to cry.

He removes his gloves after he’s done, tossing them, along with the used gauze, into a bin.

“I’m going to give you some antibiotics to fight infection, and something for your pain,” he informs you.

Again, all you do is sit there silently, head tilted down towards the ground.

Jin fights off a sad frown as he turns to one of the cabinets and shuffles through the many pill bottles. Finding the ones he’s looking for, he empties a few into his hand, grabbing a stray water bottle from the counter.

When he hands them to you, you take them very hesitantly. Your heart rate picks up considerably when he continues to stand there, clearly intent on watching you take them.

Slowly, you take a swig from the bottle and raise your cupped hand to your lips. You feign tilting the contents of your palm into your mouth, swallowing as little of the water as possible in case it too is laced with something. You’ve gotten quite good at pretending to take pills, so he easily believes you.

When he turns around, you spit the water back into the bottle as quietly as you can and tuck the pills into your makeshift pants pocket.

“Alright,” Jin says as he turns back to face you. “Now let’s get you something to eat.”

The air is heavy, sucked dry from the words out of Yoongi’s mouth. The six of them stand there silently, feeling gutted.

Hoseok is the first to string together a comprehensible sentence.

“I...I can’t believe it.”

None of them can. Almost ten years, gone. The years spent living with them, loving them, getting to know them better than anyone else in the world, all wiped away.

You can’t remember essentially growing up with the maknaes. You can’t remember studying spells with Yoongi, nearly surpassing him in knowledge and skill. You can’t remember all the times Jin nursed you back to health after protecting the others in a fight, or when you would explode laughing at one of Hobi’s jokes while still in recovery, Jin snapping at him to knock it off because you’d broken your ribs again.

And all the years spent earning your trust, earning their trust, building your confidence, carving your place in their souls, all gone from your mind.

“How?” Jungkook asks, voice thick with hopelessness.

“A riamemors spell,” Yoongi replies. His arms are crossed as he leans back on the counter, eyes trained on the ground. His expression is unreadable, but they all know that he’s been hit just as hard.

None of them know as much about casting as Yoongi does, not even Namjoon, but almost every Northerner knows what that spell does. It means “death of memories,” and it cannot be reversed.

The F&F has been abusing it for decades. First using it in weak doses on humanic people to keep them ignorant about the realities of atypicals, then using it full potency on atypicals to make them mindless slaves.

They don’t know what that facility was planning on using you for, but clearly they didn’t want you to have your memories to do it.

“How strong?” Taehyung asks. His eyes are glassy, chin wobbling despite his efforts to fight it.

They all look to Namjoon for the answer. One of the abilities of wraiths is delving into a person’s mind through touch, including their memories.

Namjoon’s face holds a deep sorrow. Your head is a very dark place.

“Nearly full strength,” he replies. “We aren’t there. Not at all.”

Half of them feel sick to their stomachs, the other half burn with rage.

“What does she remember?” Jimin asks, eyes glassy.

Namjoon’s jaw clenches.

“A bit from childhood, her parents, and...the facility.”

It looks like it physically hurts him to say it. A long, weighted moment of silence.

“Joon?” Yoongi says, looking up for the first time since they entered the kitchen.

The younger man meets his elder’s gaze, waiting in anticipation for what he will say next. The redness in Yoongi’s eyes makes Namjoon want to hug him.

“What happened there?” Yoongi finally brings himself to ask.

Namjoon’s throat bobs as everyone looks at him once again. It all comes back to him, the pain, the torture, the loneliness felt through your skin. The shadow of it, at least. The memory of it. The real thing must’ve felt much worse.

“Let us see,” Jimin suddenly says, taking an eager step forward.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jimin,” Namjoon replies, gravely serious.

“It would help us get inside her head, see what she’s dealing with,” he argues, looking around for support.

Taehyung and Jungkook look just as eager, while Hoseok looks tempted by morbid curiosity. Yoongi’s trying not to make eye contact, worried that it might give away the fact that he secretly agrees with Jimin.

Seeing that he’s clearly outnumbered, Namjoon lets out a defeated sigh.

“Alright, but just a glimpse,” he says.

They begin to gather closely around Namjoon, until he holds a hand up.

“Not you, Jimin,” he says sternly.

“Why?” the shorter man whines, upset at being the only one left out.

“I really don’t think you should see this. For your own good.”

Everyone knows that Jimin was briefly imprisoned at a one of the same facilities, and every so often he gets triggered and descends into a rapid downward spiral plagued with nightmares and flashbacks.

He looks around and finds the rest of them looking at him imploringly. When he looks at Hoseok and Yoongi, they both give him a silent nod.

Jimin sighs and lets his shoulders sag. Despite the itch of not knowing, he trusts his partners to take care of him.

“Okay, hyung,” he says, stepping away to stand at the edge of the room.

Namjoon takes a deep inhale when they’ve all huddled in a semi-circle around him. Smoke begins to unfurl from his hands, his eyes clouding over. When he opens his mouth, a thick stream of gray vapor pours from his lips.

Everyone leans over to breath it in while Jimin covers his mouth and pinches his nose.

They feel it burn down their throats and warm their lungs, singeing all along their veins until it reaches the depths of their minds.

Then their vision goes dark, eyes clouding over just like Namjoon’s. Cold fear crawls up their spines, the ghost of hunger sitting in their bellies.

A thousand images, feelings, and sensations flash through them.

Countless miserable nights sleeping on hard, wet stone. Being wakened with a bucket of freezing water. Gagging on rotten food scraps to soothe the never ending ache of starvation.

A slap to the face every time you looked at an overseer without permission. Because you are beneath them, not even worthy to see the color of their eyes.

A kick to the ribs every time you made a single sound, every time you even breathed too loud.

The sting of needles, the heat of an iron brand. Electric shocks right to the nerve endings when you fell asleep without permission. Cigarettes stubbed out on your skin.

A spit in the face. Spit in your food, then being forced to eat it because it’s all you have. Having to lick water droplets off the rusted pipes.

Open wounds, tender bruises. An ache so deep it feels like you were born with it. Chained in awkward, uncomfortable positions for hours on end.

Disgusting thing. You are nothing. You will never leave this place. You disgrace the ground you walk on. I wish I could kill you myself.

Jungkook rips away first. He heaves the smoke out with violent, forceful breaths, stumbling back like it will distance him from what he’s seen.

Hoseok and Taehyung follow soon after, jerking away as they try to cough the memories out.

Yoongi lingers the longest. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are brimming with moisture.

None of them can hold it in any longer. Taehyung bursts into tears, face scrunching up with the weight of it all. He turns to the one closest to him, which is Jungkook, and lets his head fall on his on shoulder.

Jungkook automatically puts a comforting hand on his head, fighting back tears himself.

Seeing someone they love go through all that, seeing them get treated like dirt, it hurts it hurts it hurts.

Hoseok nearly bites through his tongue. All he can think about is revenge, making the ones who did this to you regret it more than they’ve ever regretted anything in their lives.

Jimin feels like he might throw up. Not because he’s in pain, but because he’s seeing his mates in pain, so much pain. And their pain pales in comparison to yours.

He’s grateful to Namjoon, grateful that he didn’t let him see inside your head.

Jungkook’s chest hiccups with sobs, and Jimin takes hold of Taehyung so Jungkook can fold up against Hoseok.

Tae buries his head in the fold of Jimin’s neck. Hoseok wraps Jungkook in a bear hug to soothe his hitching breaths.

Yoongi, who’s held strong up until this point, finally succumbs and lets himself go limp in Namjoon’s hold, who was right behind him in case he should need him.

For several minutes, the air is filled with nothing but heart-wrenching cries and quiet snivels.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s safe now,” Namjoon says to no one in particular, still supporting Yoongi’s weight.

Jungkook’s gaze has gone foggy. The hell of that place won’t get out of his head. All he can think of is how he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there to take the pain instead. It should’ve been him.

Taehyung’s balling like a baby, he couldn’t speak if he tried to. His chest is close to bursting, swollen with so many emotions that he can’t decide which ones hurt the most. The pain of knowing what you went through, the rage towards the ones responsible, the guilt of not being there to protect you, the sorrow of knowing that he’s a stranger to you now.

Jimin is torn between breaking down himself and being strong for his mates. He feels the pressure behind his eyes, but he blinks it away and holds Taehyung tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“Why?” Tae asks in a broken voice, finally saying what they’re all thinking.

Why would anyone do this?

“They must’ve not wanted her to know what she was capable of,” Namjoon answers.

It makes sense. You were a skilled caster along with Yoongi, the spells you and him collaborated on were some of the most powerful they’d ever seen. You were incredibly knowledgeable after spending years studying alongside Namjoon, partnering with him during many of his research projects.

You were always sharp, strong, and absolutely deadly in your final form.

“What are we going to do?” Jungkook asks, barely above a whisper.

“What we’ve always done,” Yoongi replies almost instantly, shifting to fully support his own weight. “We’re gong to do what’s best for her.”

Seeing him regain his quiet composure gives the rest of them the strength to wipe the last of their tears away.

“She’s been kept in isolation, starved...tortured.”

They all hear the catch in Yoongi’s voice at the word.

“Her trust in people has been completely broken. It will take some time before she feels safe again, before she can handle a normal diet, before she’s comfortable with being touched.”

That part is going to be difficult for most of them. After all the years of hand holding, cuddling, all the comforting embraces, it’s going to be hard to refrain from trying to soothe you with physical touch.

“No doubt she’s overwhelmed and confused as it is,” Yoongi says, then he pauses like he’s gearing up to say something difficult.

“So I think it’s best if we don’t overwhelm her further by telling her who we are. At least not now.”

Silence. Uncomfortable, choking silence.

“Just...pretend we haven’t met before?” Hoseok says, disbelieving.

“Not pretend, just...don’t acknowledge it,” Yoongi says. “Right now, we’re just a group of strangers that whisked her away from everything she ever knew.”

“We don’t even know how much she knows about what we are. Everyone knows standard protocol for those places is extended brainwashing,” Namjoon adds.

That makes them stop and think. What does she know about atypicals? Did they make you despise them like Southerners do? Do you even know about the soul bond? Do you even know what you are?

“Won’t that make her feel lied to?” Jimin asks.

“I assume she’d feel more lied to if we tried to convince her that she’s known us for years. It might make her feel like we’re trying to trick her into trusting us,” Namjoon explains. 

“It might pressure her into trying to remember things she can’t, to be the person she used to be,” Jungkook says, eyes still glazed over.

And all of them know that you’ll never be the person you used to be.

“She has to trust us on her own, not because we tell her that she should,” Yoongi asserts.

Another stretch of silence.

“For how long?” Tae asks.

“Not for long, just until she feels safe here. Until she decides that she want to stay here, Yoongi continues.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says. He doesn’t know if he can pretend that you’re not his mate, like you aren’t a vital piece of him.

“We’ll just take it day by day,” Hoseok begins, seeming more convinced by the whole idea. “Right now, our biggest priority should be making her feel safe.”

Nods all around.

“What...” Jimin starts, voice trailing off with uncertainty. “What if she wants to leave?”

None of them can think of a reply to that.

The next second, footsteps sound from the hallway. The shifters can smell you coming, and you no longer stink of dried blood.

Jin rounds the corner, closely followed by your sluggish form, looking exhausted and shaky.

A jolt of fear in your chest from being confronted by all of them again, and the rest of them feel it in the pit of their hearts. The fact that their own mate feels endangered by them, in your own home, elicits a fresh sting.

There’s moment of dull quiet where nobody moves, too afraid to make a wrong move.

Yet again, their leader guides them in the right direction.

Namjoon steps forward with a warm smile on his face, slouching his shoulders to look less tall and threatening in your eyes.

“You must be hungry.”

a/n: thank you for reading til the end! comment any thoughts or reactions i love to hear them :) sorry if i forgot anyone on the taglist!

taglist: @jeepersjiminie @scuzmunkie @anchovyinajar @btsiguess-kpop @btspurplesky @emu007 @goldeneclipsedragon @serendididy @namjoons-bug @angryperfectionpersona @wittyreader @ariavaana @crazy-person @kyrah-williams @leehaechanlee @jinkajous @dolliecat @reallysparklychaos @xmochiloverx @queen-in-the-shadows @astrids-pandora @kapten-xouk @anonynim @massiekurrb @tito-the-mermaid @bangtannie7 @veronawrites @karlalands​ @gooooomz @iceprincessviviane @mugiwaraelly @iwuzhere @fl0r4f4wn @welcometomyworld13 @chatsgotmytongue @uarmyhore @djodjom1 @singukieee @ee101abc @effielumiere @slinekyu @azalea-nyx @jcrml @schokoshaker @tirouxdreemurr @blancflms @lovelysneer @blackravena @illnevertrustmyselfagain @mirahuyooo @blank-et-noir @sld88

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #bts #bts ot7 fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #bts x female reader #BTS jin #bts yoongi #bts hosoek #bts namjoon #BTS jimin #bts taehyung #BTS jungkook #bts fanfction #bts fantasy au

[justbelievinginmagic]

I Need U - Chapter 1: Chase ‘em

a super-slow burn hyyh / bangtan universe au ft oc x taehyung, oc x seokjin, yoongi x jungkook, ot7 & oc being pals.

series summary:  Song Nari still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. How was she here? Stuck in a world that felt more like a nightmare than reality. How did she end up here - wishing at a lookout point above the rolling sea in the dead of night besides a high school friend that she hadn’t seen or talked to in over a year? How did she end up here after all she did was chase down the seven delinquents who graffitied her car to give them a piece of her mind?

chapter summary: A traffic jam was the last thing she wanted right now - or so she thought.

warnings: implied/referenced drug and alcohol use, explicit language, Bangtan Boys are delinquents, oc is kinda angry-dumb, run mv havoc.

wordcount: 4.4K

A/N: hi this chapter has been rewritten & reposted as of June 2022. Its been a year since starting to write I Need U and I want so badly to finish it. So I started to reread it (since i did take a hiatus away from it and lost the voice of the characters). I discovered rewriting bits just to tighten up their relationships/experience/etc was really fun so here we are lol. If you have been reading I Need U for a while, major plot points will not be changing as of now - but these chapters are rewritten for more clarity. you wont be missing out on anything if you dont reread them but their relationships/personalities are a bit more fleshed out.

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A traffic jam doesn’t often change your life.

Traffic jams are the worst usually. That’s what Song Nari thought as she groaned out at the sight of rows and rows of red brake lights. The tunnel she was stuck in gleamed in a hue of rubies and amber light; the night sky at the end of tunnel seemed so far away. Her fingernails tapped against the side of the steering wheel with a rising tempo; each jab of her nails into the wheel dug deeper and deeper until there were a series of crescent moons in the dark worn leather.

The day had been horrible – and this traffic jam was just the cherry on top of a terrible sundae. First, it had been a surprise exam. Nari had been so focused on her mathematics exam that she hadn’t remembered her history class had an in-class essay. It was frustrating; she can still feel the flush of her cheeks and churn of her stomach at the announcement. Nari had wanted to hide or cry or throw something at a wall. She could already hear her family once she received the grade (“This grade, Nari-ah?” Disappointment that sliced her skin. “Your sister did so much better in school. You need to work harder. How else will you get into a good university?”)

A surprise exam couldn’t just be it, no, then there was work. Her part-time job at the local ramen shop was typically boring - except for today, of course. Customers seemed to just know when someone is feeling bad. One middle-aged woman criticized her for being not “cheerful enough” while taking her order. Then, they hadn’t tipped. Nari could feel the anger boiling at her bones – like she was the very ramen broth being reduced in a pot in the kitchen.

After cleaning and locking up the shop alone, you’d think life would be looking up with the closing of the day. But then, there was this. This stupid traffic jam.

A fucking traffic jam on a Thursday night.

She twisted her neck this way and that, cracking it as the radio played in crinkled, poorly transmitted sequences. This tunnel was notorious for blocking radio signals – and despite being a modern teenager, Nari’s phone had a low battery she couldn’t risk worsening using it for music. Her AUX cord dangled tantalizingly nonetheless. Cars were restless, edging closer and closer to bumpers that were barely moving.

And then, the cars began to honk.

Nari huffed out a sigh. Honking didn’t do anything; didn’t these people know that? She was only sixteen – a fresh new driver – and she knew that. The honks were a cacophony of noise, mixing unpleasantly with her shitty radio transmission. Both rising and rising in her ears until her hand shot out to turn off the radio with a thud. Her finger hurt from the force. Her head ached even more. Her other hand rose to rub at her forehead; a day’s worth of sweat and smudges of half-worn off foundation came off as she lowered her hand. Can’t this day end? The noise only grew, honks blending together into a rumble of a monster’s roar. Was there an accident or something?

Breathing roughly from her nose, Nari tried to peer around the cars in front of her, her head clanking against the glass of her driver-side door’s window. The spring-time chill clinging to the glass helped the beginning of her headache. Her eyes were hurting from the light – her contacts felt dry. All she wanted was to be home in her bed. But instead, she was here, stuck in what felt like an isolation in the universe, a time-loop of a traffic jam.

Glancing out, she couldn’t see anything around the car in front of her – too jam packed like sardines in a can. Her eyes fell shut for a moment in frustration. She could feel it building up like a pressure cooker. Her patience was running thin.

There was something else among the honking competition outside suddenly. Her eyes flashed open at the sound. It was yells, shouts, screeches. Panic struck through her – what was that? Pressing her face closer to the window, she finally caught a glance.

Teenage boys. Six of them to be exact, running throughout the cars. Weaving back and forth with crowing laughter. They were tossing things into the air. Her brows furrowed as she tried to spot what it was, eyes bugging when she realized it was food. Chips and fries. Drinks were thrown onto windshields.

One of the boys – with orange dyed hair – jumped atop a car, tossing the remains of his chips roughly at the car windshield before standing tall and proud. A friend of his with pink hair handed a take-away cup to him, his face falling into what Nari could only make out as a dazed nonchalance before he sloppily poured the remains of the drink of the windshield. He lazily dropped the cup near immediately afterwards.

Nari was shell shocked. Her mouth parted in a perfect ‘O’, and her eyes blinking once, twice. What the fuck was going on? Why – and how – were they doing this? They were going to get arrested.

Another boy – one that seemed taller and with a too eager look in his eyes – crouched down to spit his drink into one of the cars’ open windows in a large plume of sugary spray.

Quickly, her gaze moved to her car locks. Her hand shifted to flick at the toggle, making sure they were locked tight. As soon as her gaze rose back to the anarchy in front of her, she let out a scream, flinching back in her seat.

One of the boys, a teenager with shaggy hair that was also dyed a bit – was it electric green at the tips? – was pushing himself onto her car’s hood. Her old car creaked and rumbled, but he didn’t care as he leaned forward, over the windshield. His fisted hands came rushing down onto her windshield’s glass with a thud. He let out a loud “boo!”.

He wanted to spook her, and when he saw her surprised, wide-eyed face and her little jump, he was granted what he wanted. Her lips were a pout, and her dark brown eyes glistened wide with shock. He let out a laugh, hazed eyes falling shut for a moment as Nari looked on bewildered. He was high enough that everything seemed harmless yet like he was in control even as he felt the car’s metal moan beneath his weight. His smile was wide and boxy, looking chaotic and wild on his face.

While she was scared, frightened by the chaotic scene, Nari was still utterly angry. This – this – was keeping her from going home. A bunch of dickhead teenagers who wanted to cause chaos for fun while they’re high on whatever drugs they found in a back alley. There was a spark of bravery – or stupidity – in her veins at the thought. Her face quickly fell being that of a doe-eyed victim into something scrawled into a scowl. Her eyes bore into his face. His laughter was still overtaking him, shaking his form. His half-mooned, pupil-blown eyes bore tears of amusement.

When he finally got another glance at her (he was itching to see that sweet innocent look of surprise again), he didn’t expect to see the mean glare. His tongue licked at his lower lip, tasting strawberry soju that still stained his lips. He was about to throw her a smirk when she startled him. His eyes widened as he watched – and felt – her slam down heavily on her steering wheel’s horn with the palm of her hand. The noise was loud and piercing, but there was already a blur of sounds among them. Honks, cheers, curses, hoots, and hollers. The boy with green highlights in his dark hair could feel the thrum of the horn beneath his hands and knees though.

And he laughed again. It felt like a challenge in his dazed-out brain. Everything about the situation was fun and free and playful to him; after all, he felt like he was on top of the world for once in his life. How this stranger looked - her glowering glare, the cock of her brow as she continued to press down on the horn of her steering wheel – it felt like a challenge to that autonomy.

He'd show her.

Tilting his head in challenge, he simply smiled, close lipped, before he reached into the inner pocket of his white leather jacket and pulled out something. At first, she feared the worse. Eyes widening a smidge more into the near doe-eyed looked (that if he was being honest, he liked). Nari’s heart raced in her chest. What if it was a gun or something? Gun violence was rising in Korea again – enough that she carried pepper spray on her key chain and her sister had lectured her on safety. Surely, a couple of teenagers wouldn’t have a gun.

And she was right. It was certainly not a weapon, but the sight of it made her trickling fear roar into an anger once more. An anger that made her hands tremble, her nose scrunch. The type of anger that tempted her to jump out of her car right then and there.

He wouldn’t dare.

Quickly, with laughter tumbling from his lips again, the boy began to spray something on her car. Spray paint. Bright red spray painting spattered and dripped. A large X was drawn over her windshield, blocking part of her view.

The can must’ve been near-empty with how it sputtered and splattered about messily. He didn’t mind though, dropping it lazily off her car with a clank. Instead of standing like his friend had, he leaned closer, looking down at her through a mostly-unpainted part of her windshield. The smell of aerosol paint burned his nose pleasantly as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth. Cocking his head, he raised his brows at her and smiled. Their eye contacted lasted a moment too long, her nose flaring with her anger.

What the actual fuck? What does she do? Did this really just happen? What could she do? Honking can’t fix any of this bullshit – he just ruined her car with paint. Nari’s mind was in a spin, fueled by her anger and bewilderment. They never taught you how to handle a teenager spray painting your windshield – while you were behind the wheel – at driving school.

His boxy smile was prideful as he watched her anger blur into wide eyed shock. He had won. Won what? He – and she – didn’t know; he just knew he felt good. It felt good to cause trouble.

The shaggy, green-tipped hair man slid off her car with little grace considering how high or drunk he must’ve been. He offered her a wink of his eye before he began to turn away to join his other delinquent friends. She then noticed the truck that was blocking the way – T-boning the traffic to a stop.

Nari never handled her anger well – never could let an argument end without her having the last word. Without much thought (except that they were retreating), the teenage girl rolled down her window. The smell of aerosol paint lingered in the air, a sharp reminder (besides the huge fucking ‘X’ on her car) of what just happened. Leaning her head out, watching as her vandal slung his arm around the shoulders of a staggering boy, one wearing a black leather jacket and had minty blue hair, she decided with how bad her day was that it couldn’t get worse.

“Fuck you,” Nari shouted at them.

The spray paint boy heard a feminine voice pierce through the horns and shouts of his friends and looked back over his shoulder. Leaning out of the car he had climbed upon and spray painted was the driver girl with the angriest scowl on her face and a middle finger brandished towards him. He laughed, letting his older friend tug him along towards the large black truck that was blocking the way.

Taehyung felt alive.

“The cops are on their way!” Another driver with their window down cried out, spurring the boys to begin to run.

Nari watched as the black truck, a new black truck with mud already on its big wheels, revved up and reeled around to being to drive off. Tires squealed as the boys ran alongside it. Some hopped up onto the open bed of the truck as it drove past. Others who were stumbling drunk ran alongside it. Nari noticed how the license plate was covered up. Someone in that group of delinquents had a brain cell it seemed. (Just one though.)

Nari was a smart girl – she studied often; she worked at her part-time job dutifully. But she was frustrated. Angry and stressed and frightened. She wanted to yell into the open air. She wanted them not to get away with it. Because she knew those fools would get away with this. It was late; they had hidden their license plate; they were driving away.

She knew it was stupid what she wanted to do – but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back for her. Nari was going to follow them. She was going to give them a piece of her mind, something!

When traffic began to move (after all, the car that had been the problem was gone), she was zooming in the direction the truck went. All Nari could focus on was finding that stupid fucking truck. Tonight.

Admittedly, she didn’t know how she found the car sitting in the dark near the train tracks. Maybe it was fate or stupid luck. But she couldn’t stop the cheer of triumph leaving her lips. Because it had taken an hour. An hour of driving about, keeping her eyes peeled for a black car in the dark of night. The entire drive only fueled her anger. Every time she saw that stupid ‘X’ covering her driving vision, all she could feel was a rush of rage. Seven idiots. They couldn’t have gone far – they hadn’t. The moment she spotted the muddy side road with the hint of tire tracks, she had to check.

Nari was sure her mother was worried sick. Her shift had ended hours ago; it was past curfew on a school night. She had heard her phone buzzing on and off all night in her backpack in her trunk until it went quiet – probably running out of battery life. At this rate, she knew she was going to be grounded, but if she was going to already by punished, she was going to succeed in her self-given mission: giving these assholes a piece of her mind.

The dark road gave way to a large clearing – with shipping containers scattered about. A warm glow shined against the matte varnish of the containers. There was a half-made camp in front of the dark black truck (that still had its license plate covered). And there were seven boys lounging about the campfire, lulling into sleepiness from fading drunkenness and/or highs.

Taehyung, sporting his ivory-white leather jacket still, had been munching on a bag of chips he’d stolen from Jungkook’s backpack. Namjoon, now wearing his baseball cap low over his pink hair, fiddled with the logs in the fire, nudging them this way and that way with a long stick. Jungkook, bundled up in a soft (and not-at-all-threatening) sweater, was resting his head on Hoseok’s lap, feet propped up on Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi – with his mint hair messy – was fiddling with his lighter, the flame bittersweetly licking his thumb’s skin with every ignition. Hoseok’s once eager face was now exhausted as he stared into the fire sleepily while Jimin with orange hair tossed rocks into the fire, lightly laughing whenever he managed to knock into Namjoon’s stick. Seokjin – the get-away driver – was going through the photos he had taken earlier that day with his new polaroid camera. Some were good; others were shit; it was difficult to take photos when they were all collectively drunk or high or even just buzzed off the energy of each other. He sighed occasionally as he dropped one into the crackling fire – watching as the flame licked away at the image of Yoongi and Hoseok’s blurred figures.

There was a comfortable cozy air around them even with the chill of the spring midnight creeping in. They almost didn’t hear the other car pull up they were so comfortable, but the bright headlights did catch Taehyung’s attention.

“Woah, woah, woah, shit,” the boy mumbled out in shock as he spotted the new figure approaching their hideaway. Even in the back light of the headlights, he recognized her. And the car in the distance – with the large ‘X’ on its windshield – yeah, he recognized that.

“Fuck!” Taehyung cursed out as he scrambled and stumbled over the broken concrete slab they were sitting on.

“Tae, what’s wrong?” Jungkook queried, brows pinching together until he followed the older boy’s gaze.

Anyone could tell she was angry. It was clear in the way her fists were curled up and the way she was stalking up to them. Fuck, without even knowing who she was, they all were quick to be careful. Especially with Taehyung’s coward-ish behavior. The group of boys moved to try to get up – Jungkook’s feet kicked against Yoongi’s hand as he moved; Jimin reached out to shake at the still hazy Hoseok. They had to run, run, run.

“Oh no way, not this time!” Nari growled out.

She was quick, running up to the group before anyone could go anywhere. Even more, she grasped Taehyung by the wrist – no way could she forget his face nor his way too shaggy hair with the green tips.

“Hey, what the hell is wrong with you, huh?” Nari bit out, struggling to keep a grasp on the squirming man.

Another man – with a baseball cap on – tugged him out of her grasp. This guy was tall, lanky even, with pink and bleached hair spilling out from the sides of his hat. Her glare shifted to him. Namjoon didn’t flinch from it, but he did let out a breath. Her eyes were burning with rage. What the hell did Taehyung do? This couldn’t be a scorned girlfriend or one night stand – Taehyung didn’t do that.

“It was just for fun; I’m so sorry,” Taehyung apologized immediately; fear flickering over his face.

“Fun?” she repeated incredulously, taking another step towards him. “You fucking spray painted my car.” Taehyung quickly scampered to hide behind Namjoon, gripping onto his forearm. Her teeth bared in her frustration as he repeated a quiet “I’m sorry” again.

It was almost funny to Namjoon. Taehyung was a delinquent. A “jail bird” even. He ran from cops, flipping them off every other day. Yet here was a teenage girl yelling at him, and he didn’t have the balls to argue back. He was raising his hands in surrender.

Where was his ego now, she wanted to ask? Where was the challenge in his eyes? This guy was so different from the bastard who spray painted her car. Nari continued to glower up at Namjoon and Taehyung.

Never, ever, did Taehyung expect her to find him. Especially with the high and alcohol out of his veins. The liquid courage of drugs and too much strawberry soju was gone and now all that was left was a tired sixteen-year old boy who didn’t want to fight. Taehyung hated fighting with a passion. He’d rather run.

“It’ll wash off,” Namjoon countered, trying to soothe Nari.

His lanky form gave off an aura – as if he was bulkier and stronger than he was; maybe, more mature. Taehyung was partially covered by him, peering over at the crazy girl who followed them. Namjoon’s brows raised up pleadingly; his hands rose up as if calming a frightened animal.

How the hell were these the same boys who made a traffic stop to cause chaos? In fact, they were all looking at her like she was the wild one. Was she in an alternate universe or something?

“You didn’t answer my question,” Nari snapped, looking over at Taehyung again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What do you want us to say, huh?” the mint-haired guy called from his spot. He looked oddly at peace with the situation, minus the loud yelling. He was sitting, lounging back on his forearms. “We were stupid?” he offered, as if there was nothing else to say.

“And high,” a smaller voice piped up – the orange haired boy, Jimin. He – at least – looked concerned about the situation.

“You were assholes,” she corrected. “It wasn’t just me you screwed over. You’re lucky no one else had the fucking time or balls to follow you. You’re lucky the police couldn’t be damned with tracking you done because you covered your license plate. Next time, take your “fun” and shove it up your asses. Some of us can’t afford to fix the things you fucking damage.” She pointed harshly at Taehyung. “Next time you feel like playing God, go play on the train tracks or some shit.”

They were promptly shut up by her. Namjoon and Taehyung had been in jail before – for fights and vandalism charges. Jungkook often was in fights – even if the others didn’t know. They weren’t exactly a weak group. They weren’t even particularly good kids; they caused more chaos than good-will. It was fun for them.

But never did they have someone follow after them and tell them off. Never did someone ever stand up against them so valiantly. Their mouths were open in shock. There was a bit of credit that had to be given to the mystery girl – even if she was acting crazy.

Nari let out a breath. It felt great to yell; she had wanted to yell at the top of her lungs the entire day if she was being completely honest. Her chest heaved a bit as she glared at the group of shell-shocked boys.

With adrenaline and elation still pumping through her veins, she took a step forward. Taehyung gripped Namjoon’s arm a bit. Frightened… as if she was going to harm him. Namjoon’s gaze hardened despite the internal panic racing through him. Shit, was he going to have to fight a girl? He never wanted nor had fought a girl before! He didn’t want to.

Yet all Nari did was reach down for a blanket resting on the ground, dirt tumbling from the fabric as she shook it out. The group’s glare became curious. Silence overtook them; the only noise in the air was the crackling of the fire and the hum of her engine idling.

“What are you doing?” One of the boys piped up, his voice indignant but fairly weak. She didn’t even glance at him.

Stepping up onto her car tire, she wiped at the red paint, smearing it about. Trying to haphazardly fix it. The paint had mostly dried by now, but it still smeared and smudged onto the green blanket.  She worked at the paint more around the vision of the driver, but it was still futile. Her windshield looked like a murder scene, but she hoped it’d get her home safer than the ‘X’ would’ve. A few moments passed between them as she finished her work.

Hopping down from the tire, Nari tilted her head, a mimicry of how Taehyung looked at her earlier tonight as he spray-painted her car. She stalked back over to them, looking far less angry after her “revenge” and yelling fit. Lazily, she dropped the paint-covered blanket in front of them.

“There,” Nari muttered out.

There was one of the men who looked offended. His brows crinkled up in the middle of his forehead, his nose crinkling with them. She looked each one of them in the eye. While most were simply staring – still with a partially surprised look, some didn’t. The man in the soft blue sweater looked terrified with the biggest doe eyes she’s ever seen. The orange haired boy looked equally intimidated with his soft- looking eyes and plump lips pouting a bit. Another was glancing away, biting his lip. The one with mint hair stared at her with unaffected eyes. Pink hair and Spray Paint boy were still close together, staring at her in surprise.

She huffed, her hands unraveling from her fists.

“If I ever see you do this shit again, I will call the police or kick your asses or something,” she muttered out, pointing fiercely. Her threat admittedly was half-hearted. Nari wasn’t a fighter – an arguer, an angry person perhaps. But she wouldn’t harm anyone. Her hands were red with spray paint smudges; the red paint smeared onto her hoodie haphazardly.

There was an odd rush of power – probably similar to how Taehyung felt earlier in the night – doing this. Standing up for herself. But as soon as she turned away, as soon as the adrenaline began to wear off with each calming breath and step she took, things changed in her head.

Her heart raced. She just told seven guys she’d beat them up. What if they call the police on her? Her skin was burning hot in the cold night hair as she trekked back to her car. Her keys were still in the ignition, the engine rumbling low. All she did was hop in, a shaky breath leaving her as she looked on through her red tinted windshield. With headlights in their eyes, she saw the seven boys glancing between each other. Their mouths moved faintly, but with her door shut with a firm slam she couldn’t make out the words.

All she knew was that she had done what she had done. And it was time to get the hell out of here. Oddly enough, she was similar to them – running away after bold actions. Maybe that’s why there was an odd reverence in the boys’ eyes as she shifted her car into reverse and pulled out onto the dirt road to get onto the main highway.

“What the fuck was that?” Nari breathed out, elation and anxiety clashing together in a whirlwind.

Little did she know, Taehyung – staring after her car – murmured the same exact thing with a far different tone.

#i need u #bts au #hyyh au #kim taehyung fic #kim seokjin fic #taehyung x oc #seokjin x oc #bangtan universe au #yoongi x jungkook #bts hurt/comfort #bts hyyh fic #bts ff #bts fanfiction

[bultaoreunheyyy]

Part 1

the sickfic without a title

part 1 - word count: 5,020

“Go fishing without me, Jinnie. I’m just gonna sleep.”

As soon as Jungkook gets the words out, he yawns, then shivers slightly before leaning his head back against the headboard with a barely-contained grimace of discomfort. 

Seokjin takes in his youngest partner’s pale face, the way that he’s wrapping his arms around his midsection like he’s trying to hold himself together, and he frowns deeply.

“I have a whole month to go fishing, baby,” Seokjin replies. He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches out to cup the side of Jungkook’s face with his hand. His cheeks are warm beneath his palm and Seokjin wonders if there’s a thermometer somewhere in the house. “I’d rather stay here with you if you’re not feeling well.” 

Without warning, there are tears trickling down Jungkook’s cheeks and Seokjin startles when he feels them hit the side of his hand. 

“Please,” Jungkook sniffles, lip trembling. “I don’t want you to stay here because of me. Please go.” 

“Don’t cry,” Seokjin hurries to soothe him. “Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, okay?”

Before Jungkook can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door, and then there are five others shuffling into the room, worried expressions and fussing hands reaching out as they surround Jungkook’s bed.

“Why are you crying, Kookie?” Namjoon asks, joining Seokjin on the side of the bed.

“Aw, c’mere.” Taehyung, who is followed by Jimin as he climbs onto the middle of the bed, wraps his arms around Jungkook. He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and nuzzles into his long wavy hair, and Jungkook lets out a quiet, watery laugh.

“Get off,” Jungkook murmurs, but he leans into the touch anyway. His eyelashes are wet with tears. “What if I’m contagious?” 

Jimin hooks his chin over Taehyung’s shoulder and smiles softly at Jungkook. “We’re not worried about that, Jungkookie. We just want you to feel better.” 

“What do you need right now?” Yoongi asks from his spot near the foot of the bed. He’s frowning, expression almost angry due to concern. Jungkook almost never gets sick. “Have you taken anything for your stomach yet?” 

Hoseok, standing next to Yoongi, nods. “We can go into town and pick up anything you need, Kookie.” 

Jungkook sniffles and pulls a sleeve down over his hand so he can wipe the tears from his eyes. He rests his head against Taehyung’s shoulder, looking around the room at all of them and then sniffling again. “I want you guys to go fishing and have fun. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll just sleep this off and tomorrow I think I’ll feel a lot better.”

“Hey!” Taehyung whispers conspiratorially. “Are you just trying to get out of fishing with us?” 

Behind him, Jimin snorts, and then breaks out into a full fit of laughter, toppling over onto his other side and causing the others to laugh along with him, until some of the tension and worry in the room seems to let up. Even Jungkook giggles, but he’s still holding his stomach and his eyebrows furrow at the movement as he’s jostled around a little.

Finally, Seokjin rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. “I’m going to be doing all the work anyway. And none of you will even eat the fish I catch!” 

“Of course I’ll eat your fish,” Jungkook responds immediately, but none of them miss the way his face turns an almost greenish shade at the mention of eating. 

“Okay, Kook-ah,” Namjoon says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. “Get some rest. We’ll check on you when we get back, okay?”

Jungkook swallows thickly and nods, then slides down in the bed until he’s flat on his back. They each take a moment to say goodbye to him, kissing him on the forehead and fixing the comforter around him gently, and then they’re leaving, looking no less worried than when they had entered the room.

Three hours later, when the six of them return with seven small fish between them, they find Jungkook in the bathroom hunched over the toilet and throwing up so violently that the sound reverberates throughout the entire lakehouse, alarmingly loud. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, dropping to his knees next to Jungkook and quickly combing his hair back from his face for him, gathering it up into a messy bun that he ties up with one of his bracelets. 

Beside him, Seokjin rubs between Jungkook’s shoulder blades. “Oh, Jungkookie,” he murmurs. Jungkook’s shirt is drenched in sweat and Seokjin turns to look over his shoulder, catching Jimin’s eye.

“I’ll go grab a change of clothes,” Jimin nods, already anticipating what he’s about to ask, and he hurries out of the bathroom and down the hall.

“I’m gonna go grab him some water. Be right back,” Hoseok says, leaving after Jimin does.

Namjoon squeezes himself in on Jungkook’s other side, in between the tub and toilet, one hand rubbing up and down Jungkook’s arm while he uses his other to pull his phone out of his pocket. Seokjin doesn’t even have to see his phone screen to know he’s searching on Naver, probably for advice on what to do next. 

“Do we have a thermometer here?” Namjoon asks a moment later. “We should check his temperature.”

Taehyung, who’s hovering in the doorway biting down on his lip hard, wrings his hands together. “I’ll go look for one,” he tells Namjoon, and then he heads toward the main bathroom where they keep the medicine and other first aid supplies. 

“He’s burning up,” Seokjin notes, his palm still pressed firmly to Jungkook’s back. Jungkook groans loudly and then whimpers before the next round of vomiting hits. Beads of sweat drip down the sides of his face, his neck, and after a couple more long minutes of awful, forceful retching, he sags forward against the toilet, shaking hard and gasping for air.

“You’re okay, baby,” Yoongi whispers, tugging him away from the toilet by the shoulders. “We’ve got you.”

Jungkook starts to sob, then, the sound of his crying pained and raspy. Heat is coming off of him like a furnace and he’s listless in Yoongi’s arms, barely able to hold himself upright. Yoongi holds him to his chest, cupping the back of Jungkook’s head to keep him there, and he looks over to share a worried glance with Seokjin while Jungkook cries into his shirt.

“How long has this been going on, hm?” Yoongi murmurs, tucking his face into Jungkook’s sweaty hair. “Is this the first time you’ve thrown up since we left?”

With a sudden shiver that hits him so hard they can hear his teeth clatter together, Jungkook whimpers and then nods against Yoongi’s chest. His tears and snot are already soaking a spot against the fabric. The three of them move closer towards Jungkook instinctively; Namjoon reaches out to cup Jungkook’s clenched jaw, rubbing gently until he relaxes a little, while Seokjin keeps rubbing his back and Yoong wraps his arms even tighter around the shivering man.  

“Here,” Hoseok announces from the doorway. “Got some water.” 

He kneels down and waits for Jungkook to lift his head away from Yoongi’s chest. He tips the bottle of water towards Jungkook’s lips, helping him drink, but halfway through Jungkook shivers again and water dribbles down his chin.

“Sorry,” Jungkook hisses, jaw clenched again as a fresh wave of tears roll down his cheeks. “Fuck, I’m so cold.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Hoseok replies quickly. “I’ll go grab a blanket for you, okay? Then we can try some more water in a few minutes.”

Jimin appears in the doorway then with a fresh change of clothes. He hands them off to Hoseok and wordlessly goes to grab said blanket, and Hoseok and Yoongi help Jungkook strip out of his sweat-soaked shirt so he can change into the dry one. Jungkook shivers the whole time, quiet as he lets himself be manhandled into the new shirt. His skin is hot despite his claims of feeling cold.

“You’re just running a little fever,” Yoongi says when Jungkook is tucked back against his chest. “Once Minnie comes back with a blanket and you sip some more water, we’ll take your temperature and get you some medicine. Okay?” 

Jungkook doesn’t react to that. He just lies there against Yoongi, sniffling every minute or so, tears silently falling. 

“This came on kind of fast, didn’t it?” Namjoon asks, voice almost a whisper. He’s on his phone again, eyebrows creased together with worry.

Hoseok, Yoongi and Seokjin don’t respond, but they’re all thinking the same thing– none of them have ever seen Jungkook this sick before, and so regardless of the timing, it came on much too fast for any of their liking. Their worry hangs in the air, tense and almost stifling, and they’re all silent until Jimin returns with a blanket.

“Here, Kookie,” he says, joining the five of them on the bathroom floor before tucking the blanket around Jungkook’s trembling shoulders. His mouth falls open in shock when his hand brushes the back of Jungkook’s neck.

“Uh.” Jimin swallows. “Should we…is the blanket too much?” He’s pressing his palm to Jungkook’s neck, then the side of his face, alarmed at the heat he finds. “Shouldn’t we try to cool him down?” He moves his hand to Jungkook’s forehead, then flips it around and feels it with the back of his hand too, like it might make a difference. “He’s really hot.”

Jungkook makes a choking sound, something between a sob and a cough, and Yoongi nearly shoves him in the direction of the toilet in a panic, his body twisting awkwardly so he can prop Jungkook up above the bowl.  

Instead of throwing up, though, Jungkook just cries, tears pouring from his red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m not–” Jungkook breaks off with another sob. “I’m just…I’m sorry…you can take the blanket.”

They can barely make out what he’s saying through his cries. Yoongi keeps him in place by the toilet, and Hoseok and Seokjin rub his back, whispering encouraging words as they wait for him to start vomiting again. 

After a few moments where Jungkook just cries, and shivers, but doesn’t do much else, Jimin gasps in realization. 

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Kookie. I’m sorry, you’re not too hot! You can keep the blanket, okay? Just, calm down, okay?”

Jimin motions for Yoongi to release Jungkook, and he gathers the younger man in his arms, tugging the blanket snugly around his frame. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against Jungkook’s ear. “I didn’t mean to worry you, sweetie. You’re not too hot, okay? Just a little bit sick, that’s all. Please stop crying, okay? You can keep the blanket. Is it making you feel better?”

He rubs Jungkook’s back vigorously through the blanket, shoulders sagging in relief when Jungkook nods his head at the question. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook rasps. “I can’t stop crying.” 

“Cry all you need to,” Jimin tells him. “And you don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

“Hey.” Taehyung appears in the doorway, triumphantly holding up a thermometer. “Finally found it.” He looks at everyone and tilts his head to one side. “Why are we all on the floor still?”

Jungkook shivers violently and then groans, but he lifts his head to squint up at Taehyung. “I’m on the floor ‘cause I’m sick. I don’t know about the rest of them.”

Hoseok snorts into a laugh, causing everyone else to chuckle along, but they all stop suddenly when Jungkook groans again. 

“Fuck,” he says weakly. “Fuck.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Seokjin murmurs. “Do you need to throw up again? Do you want to try some water?”  

The only response he gets from Jungkook is a soft whine and a bout of shivers that shake him and Jimin both.

“Hey, there’s no room for me,” Taehyung says, but squeezes himself next to Jimin and Jungkook anyway, careful not to jostle them as he does. He slips the thermometer into Jungkook’s mouth and maneuvers it under his tongue, and Jungkook gags immediately, eyes flying open wide.

“Shit, sorry–” Taehyung flinches backward, and Yoongi lunges forward to help guide him back over the toilet. 

Jungkook grabs onto Jimin’s shirt with both fists and uses what little strength he has left to brace himself against the movement, not letting Yoongi move him. 

“No! I’m…” He pauses, takes a breath through his nose. Jimin closes his eyes and waits for the worst.

“I’m not gonna…”

Even though Jungkook is saying he’s not about to throw up, he’s so pale his face matches his white t-shirt, and he’s sweating again, drops of moisture running down his forehead from his hairline. He presses his lips together tightly, nostrils flaring wide as he sucks in another breath through his nose only. A second passes by, and then another, and then he lets out a trembling, shivery sigh.

“I’m good, I just…wasn’t expecting it to be a mouth thermometer,” he finally gets out, voice weak and shaky. His gaze flits over to Taehyung. “Thought it would go on my forehead or something,” he says.

Taehyung nods frantically. “I should have warned you first. I’m really sorry, Jungkookie.”  

Yoongi reaches over to push back a few stray sweaty strands of hair off of Jungkook’s forehead. “You ready now? It shouldn’t take too long to get a reading.” 

Jungkook nods, and Taehyung eases the thermometer past his lips again, slow and careful with his movements. Jungkook still gags again once it’s under his tongue, but he manages to keep it together, his eyes squeezed shut while they all wait for the thermometer to beep.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Taehyung whispers. “It should just take a second.”

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Hoseok tells him, rubbing his arm. 

Fresh tears spill out of the corners of Jungkook’s eyes, down his cheeks, and his lips tremble around the thermometer. When it beeps, Taehyung slides it out quickly and peers down at the number with a frown. 

“I can’t stop crying,” Jungkook whispers. “And I can’t stop shivering.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Seokjin replies. He strokes Jungkook’s cheek with the back of his hand. “You cry all you need to, okay? None of us mind. We’re sorry you’re feeling so bad.”

While Taehyung shows Namjoon the number and Namjoon uses his phone to convert the number to Celsius, Jungkook’s sniffles grow more persistent. Yoongi unrolls some toilet paper and uses a wad of it to dry the tears from Jungkook’s cheeks, then wipes gently under his nose. Jungkook is still again, leaning heavily against Jimin’s chest while Taehyung fixes the blanket around him and Hoseok rubs his back. 

“It’s not actually very high,” Namjoon tells them once he figures out the conversion. “37.7 degrees.” 

“Feels higher,” Jungkook replies miserably. “Hate this.” 

Before any of them can respond, Jungkook stiffens, then scrambles to sit upright, and he frees one arm from the blanket so he can clamp a hand over his mouth. Yoongi, still on high alert from before, peels the blanket the rest of the way off and tosses it to Hoseok, then wraps an arm around Jungkook’s waist, shuffling on his knees as he guides him back next to the toilet. 

Jungkook’s entire body is so tense that they can see the muscles on his neck staining, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries not to take in too deep of a breath. His eyes are wide and panicked, and his stomach makes a loud gurgling noise.

“Let’s give him some space,” Seokjin whispers, tugging Taehyung and Jimin off the floor and leading them out into the hallway. 

Hoseok follows too, and he leans against the doorframe with the still-full bottle of water in his hand, watching anxiously as Jungkook finally has to give in to his body’s demands and begins to hurl into the toilet bowl. 

When he’s done, Jimin grabs a washcloth and wets it with warm water, handing it down to Namjoon, who’s still on the floor with Jungkook. Namjoon wipes Jungkook’s chin with the cloth while Yoongi pulls more toilet paper off the roll to dry Jungkook’s tears and wipe his nose.

A shudder runs down Jungkook’s spine and he snuffles miserably into the wad of tissues that Yoongi holds to his face. 

“Fuck,” he croaks. “Hate this.” The last word breaks off into a sob that sounds so sad it brings tears to Yoongi’s eyes.

“Baby, I know,” he coos, wiping his eyes discreetly and rubbing Jungkook’s back. “This sucks. I’m so sorry.”

Jungkook shivers and wraps one arm around his stomach with a wince.

Before anyone can really say or do anything else, Jungkook gags loudly, and then grabs onto the toilet seat with both hands to brace himself. 

Namjoon can’t help the shocked expression that crosses his face. “Again?”

Jungkook doesn’t even have time to nod. 

There’s not much left for him to get up. When he’s done dry heaving, he lets him fall sideways into Namjoon’s body, his head lolling to the side. Namjoon cards his fingers through Jungkook’s sweat-drenched hair– only half of it is still tied up with Yoongi’s bracelet– and presses a kiss to his temple. 

“Let us know if you think there’s more,” he whispers.

Jungkook moans loudly at that, his voice broken and crackly. “No, fuck. I hope not,” he says. “Fuck.”

They stay there for a few more minutes while Jungkook catches his breath, Namjoon and Yoongi on the floor with him while Hoseok, Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung wait just outside the bathroom. Eventually, Seokjin kneels back beside Jungkook and takes one of his hands, squeezing gently. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We’ll get you back into bed.”

Jungkook nods, but it takes three of them to get him off the bathroom floor and help him stand. Seokjin and Namjoon get under his arms on either side of him and they start to guide him out of the bathroom, watching with worry as his legs visibly shake and his chin drops to his chest as if he doesn’t have the strength to even hold his head up. 

Jimin goes into the bathroom as they leave and flushes the toilet, and he’s opening the cabinet under the sink to check for cleaning supplies when Jungkook stops walking and glances back, tears filling his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, and then he’s crying hard, body shaking with the effort. “I’m sorry, I–” 

“Don’t apologize, sweetie,” Jimin cuts him off. “You’re sick and it’s not your fault. I don’t mind cleaning up a little, okay?”

“You’d do the same for any of us,” Hoseok says, ducking down to meet Jungkook’s watery gaze. “We just want you to rest and feel better. Okay?”

Jungkook sniffles and nods, but tears are still pouring down his face when he starts walking again. They’re halfway back to Jungkook’s bed when his entire body tenses, and that’s the only warning they get before he’s vomiting again, held up on either side by Namjoon and Seokjin gripping his elbows so he doesn’t hit the ground when his knees buckle.

*

That had been the start of their month-long vacation at the lake. 

Now, three days later, there’s no doubt that this is something Jungkook can’t just sleep off. 

In fact, he hasn’t gotten much sleep at all since becoming sick– none of them have, really– but he’s so tired he can barely get out of bed. By the third day of his illness, they’ve all developed a sort of routine taking care of him, bringing him water and medicine and small amounts of food around the clock even though he can’t keep much down. They all have plenty of practice taking care of each other, and even though they can count the number of times Jungkook’s been sick since they’ve been dating on only one hand, they easily fall into roles like they’ve been assigned them.

“I brought some crackers,” Hoseok announces hesitantly, knocking on the open door and peeking into Jungkook’s room. “And some broth.”

He can tell that Jungkook is biting back a response, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip and his eyebrows drawing together just slightly in the middle.

“I know, I know,” Hoseok sighs. He makes his way over to Jungkook, setting his tray down on the nightstand before settling down on the edge of the bed. “But I also bring kisses and hugs.”

The covers are pulled all the way up to Jungkook’s chin. Hoseok pulls them down just enough to help guide Jungkook a little higher on the bed, stuffing a pillow between him and the headboard so he’s halfway propped up. Jungkook shivers at the loss of blankets even though he’s wearing a hoodie. Hoseok presses a kiss to his warm forehead, and then another kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry,” he whispers afterward, patting Jungkook’s chest. “Just a few crackers, okay?” 

He holds up a cracker. He’s found that Jungkook is much more willing to eat if he doesn’t have to feed himself, and he seems to be more willing to let Hoseok feed him out of all of them.

Jungkook swallows thickly, then closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall open with a tired sigh. When Hoseok slides the cracker between his front teeth, he dutifully bites down, taking the tiniest bite he can get away with and chewing it slowly. Hoseok can hear his breathing pick up as he eats, his breath puffing in and out of his nose while he keeps his lips pressed together, a tight thin line. 

Hoseok brushes his fingers against the little crease between Jungkook’s eyebrows once he has eaten one single cracker. It takes him several minutes to finish, and when he’s done he’s looking much paler than before.

“How about a second one?” 

Jungkook’s chin begins to tremble. He opens one eye to squint up at Hoseok.

“You’re doing so good, love,” Hoseok whispers. “So good.”

It’s enough encouragement, apparently, for Jungkook to keep going. He eats another cracker, and then a third, and then he lets Hoseok hold a mug of warm broth to his lips. 

Hoseok kisses the tip of Jungkook’s nose when he finishes the crackers and a few sips of broth.

He holds Jungkook’s hand while he takes deep breaths through his nose to quell the nausea that arises almost instantaneously after he adds a sip of water on top of it. 

And five minutes later, when Jungkook is throwing it all back up, Hoseok rubs his back and whispers apologies and holds his hair back from his face. 

*

In the late afternoon, Jimin grabs two water bottles from the fridge and makes his way into Jungkook’s bedroom.

“Hey,” he greets the younger man when Jungkook yawns and looks up at him sleepily from where he’s curled up on his side, blankets clutched tightly to his chest. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on Jungkook’s face and Jimin frowns, glancing down at the thermometer on the nightstand. He sets one of the bottles of water down and wipes the condensation from his hand on his pants, then settles in the chair that one of them had placed next to Jungkook’s bed at some point. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, pressing his palm to Jungkook’s forehead. “Do you think you could drink some water for me?”

Jungkook’s skin is hot and his face is flushed pink. He yawns again and warily eyes the bottle of water that Jimin holds out toward him until Jimin clears his throat and motions for him to sit up a little.

Sitting up seems to take a lot of effort out of him. As soon as he sips enough water for Jimin to be satisfied, he slumps back down against the pillows, tugging the blankets up until only his nose and eyes are visible. Jimin can’t help but reach out and put his hand on Jungkook’s forehead again, and even though worry twists in his gut at the warmth he feels, he smiles when Jungkook leans into the touch with a relieved sigh.

“Can you…keep it there?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods, adjusting his palm to cover all of Jungkook’s forehead. He brushes his thumb over his brow in a soothing motion and smiles when less than a minute later, Jungkook appears to fall asleep, soft snores drifting through the air.

After a few minutes, Jimin feels his arm growing tired, but he doesn’t dare move his hand and risk waking Jungkook up. He clears his throat again, then looks around until he finds the second bottle of water he’d brought in the room with him. Uncapping it with one hand, he chugs the water down until the bottle is empty. Just as he’s finishing it, Jungkook startles awake, entire body jerking with a shiver.

“Ugh,” he groans, shivering again and curling up as tightly as he can. “My face is hot but everything else is cold.” 

Jimin tuts sympathetically and presses the backs of his fingers to Jungkook’s cheeks.

“Yeah, your face is pretty warm. Want a cool cloth?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No. Too cold.”

Jimin chuckles. “Aw, sorry, Kookie. I wish there was a way I could make you feel better right now.”

“You are making me feel better,” Jungkook responds quietly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “My lips hurt,” he croaks after a moment. “Sorry. I don’t mean to complain so much.”

Jimin frowns, already patting his pockets. “Complain all you need to. You’re allowed to when you’re feeling so sick.” He pulls a stick of lip balm from his back pocket and leans forward to apply it to Jungkook’s dry, cracked lips. Jungkook tries to rub his lips together afterward, but even that seems like a great effort for him so Jimin uses his pinky to help spread it around evenly. 

“Thank you.” Jungkook swallows, then swallows again. Calmly, albeit shakily, he pushes himself up onto one elbow. “I’m gonna throw up.” 

They make it to the bathroom just in time. All that comes up is bile and water, and Jungkook cries in between each heave, his nose runny and his eyes puffy and red. 

Namjoon comes to check on them just as Jimin is flushing the toilet and Jungkook is blowing his nose. He helps Jimin get Jungkook to his feet, and then they both tuck him into bed, settling on either side of him and running their fingers through his hair while he shivers and drifts off into a fitful state of half-consciousness.

*

“I’m awake.”

Seokjin freezes, one hand hovering above Jungkook’s face as he switches out the cloth on his forehead for a fresh, cool one. It’s the middle of the night, and moonlight spills into the room through the large window opposite the bed.

“Hey, Jungkookie. How are you feeling?”

“Don’t want that,” Jungkook grumbles in response, eyes still closed. He flinches when Seokjin adds another wet cloth to the side of his neck that’s most exposed. “Too cold.”

“I know, hun,” Seokin sighs. “But your temp is up a little and I’m worried about you overheating.” 

“I’m not gonna overheat. I’m too fucking cold.” 

Seokjin sighs. He drags a hand down his face and watches Jungkook shiver and reach up to remove the cloth from his neck, his eyes squeezed shut the entire time. “No need to bite my head off,” he murmurs softly. 

Jungkook is silent for a long moment. When he opens his eyes, Seokjin can see tears shining there. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. His shivers hard and his teeth chatter. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t want the washcloth.” 

“Apology accepted,” Seokjin replies. “I’d be grumpy too, if I were you. Also, you’re too stubborn, you know that?” 

“I’m not grumpy,” Jungkook huffs. “I’m not stubborn.” 

Seokjin bites back a smile. “Okay, well, you’re running a high temperature and that’s a fact. I’ll take a reading right now so you can see for yourself.” 

Jungkook is quiet as Seokjin takes his temperature. He’s quiet when Seokjin shows him the reading. He’s quiet when Seokjin moves the cloth back to his neck and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose afterward, but he’s shivering harder now, chills wracking his body. In the moonlight, Seokjin can see a single tear slide down his face, and when he reaches out to brush it away with his thumb Jungkook turns pleading eyes on him. 

“Please,” he whispers, voice thick with sleepiness and desperation. “I’m too cold.”

Jungkook’s teeth are suddenly chattering louder than Seokjin’s ever heard anyone’s teeth chattering before, and it’s unsettling. He relents, removing both the cloth from Jungkook’s forehead and the one from his neck, and then he fetches another blanket even though it feels like he shouldn’t be adding any more layers. He tucks it around Jungkook’s body carefully, smoothing it out to keep his hands busy, heart pounding at the way Jungkook is shaking so hard.

“Fuck.” Moments later, even though he’s still shaking violently, Jungkook is pushing the blankets off. “Fuck.” 

“Are you still cold?” Seokjin asks uncertainty, and even though Jungkook shakes his head, he’s still shivering violently.  

“My insides are burning up,” he chokes out, and another shiver wracks his body. “I’m…fuck, I don’t know. I’m cold and hot,” he whimpers. His breath catches, breaks off into a sob. “I’m so cold.” 

Seokjin grabs one of the wet cloths again and gently wipes it over Jungkook’s forehead, from his temple down his cheek, across his pulse point under his jaw. He feels helpless, at a loss for words in a way that he usually isn’t, intense worry twisting in his gut. He swallows back the sudden urge to cry and pulls his phone from his pocket.

By the time Jungkook announces he’s going to puke, Seokjin has already texted for backup, and Yoongi arrives just in time to help him haul Jungkook to the bathroom.

Afterward, when Jungkook is slumped over both of their laps on the bathroom floor, Seokjin presses another cool cloth to his forehead and Jungkook doesn’t have any energy left in him to protest. 

Part 2

#bts sickfic #sickfic #sick bts #sick jungkook #caretaker seokjin #caretaker namjoon #caretaker yoongi #caretaker hoseok #caretaker jimin #caretaker taehyung #fever #emeto #bts emeto #bts whump #hurt/comfort #bts hurt/comfort #thesickficwithoutatitle #chaptered fic #bts au #bts poly au