Of Storms And Vampires // Ch. 1

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Of Storms And Vampires // Ch. 1

Pairings: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader x Vampire!Jungkook

Summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn't simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook's sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

Genre: fluff, angst

Word Count: 9.1k+

The wind howled outside with the voice of a thousand lost souls. You had read somewhere that the breeze and the sounds of the night were the dead singing. If that were true, tonight they were screaming. 

The storm had hit in the afternoon in full force, getting only worse since then. In seconds, the first few droplets turned into arrows of water falling from the heavens. Dark clouds overtook the sky, wiping out the sun and bringing the night early. Lightning struck every few minutes followed by loud thunder that sounded too close for comfort. You had sensed the storm brewing a few days ago but only yesterday you had realized how strong it was going to be. It was like all the rage of the Gods had been released at once.

The rain splattered on the windowpane relentlessly, a constant murmuring in the background interrupted only by the thunder. You could cast a silencing spell but you needed to be aware of what was happening outside and the sounds were comforting in a way. It was the music of lonely nights and disasters. 

You were curled up in the overstuffed armchair next to the fireplace, a book on kitchen magic leaning on your thighs. The fire flickered and danced, flaming tendrils reaching for above. It was a calm night for you, almost peaceful. You had been casting protections against the storm on your house, your garden, and the small farmhouse of your animals for days. There was nothing to worry about, you were more than safe. But your mind kept going to the town. It was the worst storm this part of the world had seen in decades.

You flipped the page to the recipe for an antipyretic potion and breathed in the smoky scent of burning firewood. Your eyes scanned over the ingredients of the potion and you considered how it could be improved to better fit your magic, without losing its essence. It was hard changing existing recipes and spells but when done right, it could be very rewarding. 

You sensed the presence before you heard the thud. It was small and weak, pulsing in flashes. Something had hit your window but you had only seen a black blur before it disappeared. You closed the book and lowered your feet from the couch, listening for any more noises. None followed. The rain continued like before. 

The aura of something—someone—, that hadn't been there before persisted. You had to see what it was, maybe it was an injured animal that needed your help. The forest would lead them to you sometimes, both animals and humans in need. 

You wrapped your black cloak around yourself and raised the hood. It was woven with enchanted thread for protection and stitched with intentions of blending in with your surroundings. The protection applied to the weather as well, it wouldn't completely spare you from the heavy rain but it would be more like going out during a mild rainfall instead of getting drenched within seconds. 

Outside, the world was dark and ominous. Trees lurched and bent under the force of the wind, its strength was enough to uproot some smaller and more frail ones. The rain bounced off your cloak and thunder boomed overhead. You shielded your lantern underneath your cloak and, with your boots sinking into the wet earth, moved carefully toward where you had heard the sound. At first, you didn't see it in the darkness but when your eyes adjusted, you noticed the outline of the crumbled figure underneath the window. 

The creature was small and it was shivering, probably both by the cold and the fear of the storm. You approached slowly, trying to seem non-threatening. It was a small bat, one of its wings bent at a weird angle and the other hiding its face. 

"Hello, little guy," you said, sending some of your energy to the bat to soothe it. The wind swept your voice away but you still tried. "I'm going to have to pick you up and take you inside. You can't stay out here in the storm." 

With a short incantation, you enchanted the lantern to float in place and slid one hand underneath the bat's small form, covering it gently with your other hand. It struggled a little but settled soon. By touch, you understood two things. It wasn't a normal bat but, in your hands, you were holding a vampire. And it was a very young one. 

"I'm going to take care of you," you promised, cradling the vampire close to your chest. "You don't have to be afraid." 

You rushed back inside, careful not to jostle him. You unclasped your coat, took off your boots at the entrance, and carried the baby vampire into the living room, sitting down on the armchair near the fire. His small body was trembling and the fire would calm the cold leeching on his bones. You laid him on your thighs to take a quick look at his injuries. There were a couple you could see at first glance, one of his wings was broken and there was a shallow gash on his belly. 

You touched his forehead with two fingers and transferred some more of your energy to him. The vampire flinched but when he felt life seeping into his veins, his eyes—which were larger than any other bat you had seen—widened, looking at you in wonder.

“Stay here,” you advised, laying him on the armchair as you got up. “I’ll be back with a few things to treat your injuries. Don’t move too much.”

You kept most of your potions and salves in the kitchen, they were in jars and tins of various sizes stored in your cabinets. Various herbs tied together with thick strings were hanging from the ceiling and potted plants lined the windowsills. The counters were cluttered with multiple ingredients for potions and spells, from the most common ones like dried daisies, mint, and sea glass to some rare—or mostly avoided—ones like bleeding nightshade, dragon hair, and heart crystals.

You opened the cabinet that contained most of your medicinal potions and a few salves. You skimmed over the labels, reciting their properties in your head and contemplating which ones would be better suited for a vampire. In the end, you grabbed a vial of dark green liquid and a small bottle, the inside of which was reflective like a mirror. The first one was to fight off the effects of the cold, it wasn’t easy for vampires to get sick but the vampire was young and he had probably spent too much time in the storm. The second one was to ease the pain and speed up healing and its effects could last for as long as twelve hours. Before returning to the living room, you grabbed a platinum tin containing a salve that would accelerate the process of the skin stitching together.

The baby vampire had obediently stayed where you had left him, his eyes were half-closed and he was still shaking. There was a small pang in your heart for him. Baby vampires weren’t supposed to be alone for more than a few hours, they needed the presence of their sire like humans needed air. But here he was, alone in the forest with a witch and his sire nowhere in sight.

“I’m back,” you said softly. The vampire opened his eyes a little and turned his head in your direction. His eyes were so bright, much brighter than any vampire you had ever met. “I need to take care of your injuries now. You need to drink these, they are going to help you heal.” 

The vampire eyed the potions but, surprisingly, he didn’t put up a fight, opening his mouth. 

“Good boy,” you said and if the vampire was in his human form, you were sure he would be blushing. As much as vampires could blush. You poured the green potion in his mouth first and when he swallowed, he made a face of disgust. “I know it doesn’t taste great but it’s one of the best potions for this.” He tilted his head and to distract him, you started explaining to him what the properties of each potion were.

You applied the salve on his wound with careful fingers, he whimpered but didn’t snap at you like you had expected. He was pretty docile for a young vampire, who could get violent away from their sire’s protection. Then, you made a small cast out of some cloth for his wing.

“By tomorrow night, you will be able to shift back. We can see how much your arm has been affected then. But I believe you will make a quick recovery,” you said and the bat let out a chirp. “Please, in the future, avoid going out before or during storms. Your bat form isn’t strong enough to withstand this kind of weather. You’re very lucky you hit my window.” He made a squeaking sound and lowered his head at your admonishment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Some of the most sensitive ingredients were kept in the refrigerator that was powered by magic. One of those ingredients, stored in a large jar, was human blood. It was one of the ingredients that was frowned upon but was necessary for your type of magic and a very powerful asset. You poured a good amount into a bowl and put the rest back in the fridge.

The scent of blood made the vampire’s head shoot up as soon as you walked into the living room. “Stay there, I’m bringing it to you.” The vampire made a few more chirping noises as you carried the bowl and set it in front of him. He looked at you and when you nodded, he dived head-first into the blood. “It isn’t fresh but it will have to do. I know that baby vampires need blood.”

He gulped down the blood hungrily and when the bowl was licked clean, he looked at you with his large eyes. 

“That’s enough for now. I’ll give you more later,” you said, picking up the bowl. “Now, rest.”

Vampires stayed in nests with their sires while they were still young, so you tried to make a mock nest for the small bat. On the floor by the fireplace, you bunched up a fluffy blanket, placed two pillows on top, and laid the vampire inside. You thought you heard him sigh as he settled, making himself comfortable. After the events of the day and the two potions, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. 

Near this side of the forest, there was only one small town from where he could have got lost. You tried to remember if there were any vampires that lived in the town but came up blank. You didn’t visit the town often and your interactions with its inhabitants were rare. Whatever you learned about them, you learned from Seokjin, who took it up to himself to fill you in on all the gossip he could remember. And he had a very strong memory. 

You stayed in the living room for a while longer, picking up the magic book where you left off and throwing glances at the bat every few pages. He was sleeping soundlessly, shifting only when thunder struck somewhere nearby. Soon, you closed the book again and after adjusting the blanket around the vampire’s small form, you retired to your room for the night.

The next morning, you woke up to the sounds of the storm raging outside. The wind whipped the roof and the walls and the rain falling was enough to fill up a river. Outside the window of your bedroom, the world was being suffocated in gray. The sun had disappeared, hidden behind the endless expanse of dark clouds. The storm would last through the day and hopefully calm during the night. However, the signs showed that it wouldn’t be gone soon.

You dressed for the day and braided your hair to keep it out of your face. There were things you had to do, despite the storm outside. Most importantly, there was a baby vampire that needed your attention in the living room.

Said vampire was awake and lazying around in his makeshift nest. He blinked slowly at you before letting out a couple of chirps, shaking his not-injured wing in what you guessed was the bat equivalent to waving at you. You had to admit that he was adorable as he greeted you enthusiastically.

“Good morning. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” you asked and the bat nodded his head. He gestured to his belly with his wing and you were glad to see that the skin was already stitching itself together. “This looks good, you are healing quickly. By nightfall, it will only be a small scar and that will go away soon too. But you will still need to be careful, don’t go flying into a storm again.” He squeaked lowly and lowered his head, making you giggle. “Now, let me take a look at your wing.”

His wing was also healing nicely and, as you had predicted, he would be able to turn back into his human form, if he wanted to, by the end of the day. It would make communication much easier although you weren’t sure if you would prefer that over the cute bat. You had found over the years living alone in your cottage in the forest that you were better at interacting with animals than with people. 

You let go of his wing and the vampire squeaked and pointed to his belly and then his mouth.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some blood?” you asked and he responded by pleased chirping. “Okay, I’ll bring some to you since you have been a good patient.”

You poured some blood for him in the same bowl as yesterday. The jar of human blood was enough to get you through more than a year of potions and spells but it could barely last for two days as the main food source of a vampire, especially a young one that needed feeding regularly. You hoped the storm would ease by tomorrow and you would be able to look for his sire. You would have to be on guard because sires were overprotective of their fledglings and if they believed you had been keeping them apart for no reason, it could get ugly.

You placed the bowl in front of the vampire, who chirped in thanks and started drinking messily. Blood stained the fur around his mouth and he looked almost angry at how good the blood tasted. For now, your priority was to take care of him, you would have to worry about his sire later. 

While the vampire was drinking his blood, you bustled around the kitchen. You made a quick and simple breakfast for yourself, a cup of tea with ginseng for energy and bread with homemade strawberry jam. Like every morning, you lit up a fire in the hearth and filled your cauldron with water and a crystalline blue powder you had made for cleansing. Something was always brewing in a witch’s cauldron.

You were going to make a specialized potion for the little vampire to enhance his healing abilities. The effects of the one you had given him last night would have worn off and personalized potions were more effective. Opening and closing cupboards and drawers, you gathered a few of the ingredients you would use, consulting a recipe from a magic book focused on magical creatures. 

After a few minutes, the cauldron was clean and ready for work. You measured the first few ingredients and put them in. They needed to boil a couple of hours on their own before you added a pinch of dried rosemary and red oyster mushrooms. Brewing potions was like performing a ritual, it wasn’t only about the ingredients and the quantities, it was about the timing, the intentions, and each action itself. You had to sense what the potion needed and how it needed it done. Some potions could take days to make and the more difficult ones could be ruined by a single wrong move or even a bad thought. It was a delicate process but you enjoyed it. 

The rain persisted but you had to go outside to feed the animals and make sure that their protections were holding up. The storm must have scared them and your presence would calm them.

The vampire had closed his eyes again, the bowl in front of him empty. He opened one eye to look at you and as you picked up the bowl to return it to the kitchen, he bumped his head against your hand.

“Do you like petting?” you asked, stroking between his ears. He closed his eyes and wiggled happily at the attention. “You do, don’t you? You are really cute, such a cute bat.” He preened at the praise and you cooed. “I’ll go outside for a bit but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

The vampire chirped in answer although he didn’t seem happy to be deprived of petting. You threw on your cloak to protect yourself from the wild weather outside and made your way to the small farmhouse. 

It was only a few meters away from the house, through a cobblestone path that at least saved your boots from sinking in the mud. The farmhouse had been there when Seokjin had first led you to this place but it had been in a much worse condition than the house. The roof had crumpled in and the walls would have followed soon, leaving nothing but a heap of decayed wood. The renovations lasted a couple of months, accomplished mostly by you, Seokjin, Jimin, and a few people from the town that Seokjin had called when he realized there were a few things that, magic or not, you simply couldn’t do.

The ground of the farmhouse was dry, evidence that your protection spells were still holding strong. The familiar sounds of the animals greeted you, the bleating and the clucking, the hooves against the ground, and the flapping of wings. There were ten chickens, six goats, and Daisy, your horse, who had got her name from her fondness of eating daisies. They all had their own fenced areas with enough space to roam and stretch their limbs—the fence of the chicken coop almost reached the ceiling because your chickens could somehow fly much higher than normal chickens could.

You visited all of the animals, petting them and replenishing their food. None of them liked the thunder and the wind howling but, luckily, they understood they were safe inside. They surrounded you and you spoke softly to them. You weren’t an animal witch but you were good with them. You had learned quickly and you had been surprised to find that animals enjoyed your company.

Last, you went to Daisy. You stroked her neck, fed her apples, and promised to take her on a long walk to the fields at the end of the forest and let her gallop for as long as she liked. Forests weren’t the most suitable places for horses but Daisy seemed to like it well enough as long as you took her to the fields from time to time.

Returning to the house, you found the vampire squirming and agitated. Apparently, he didn’t like staying still for such a long time, so you carried him with you to the kitchen. His eyes followed you while you worked on the potion so you started explaining to him what you were doing. You weren’t sure how much he understood or how much he knew about witchcraft but he was an attentive audience. He made sounds whenever you said something interesting and he stopped hopping around the counter whenever you told him to.

For lunch, you heated up some leftover tomato soup from the previous day and you fed the bat a plum. Once upon a time, there was a vampire you had been close with, or you had been getting there, and he had told you that plums were his favorite food to eat when he was in bat form. The little one on your table must be the same because he devoured it. 

He kept you company for the rest of the day and at some point he somehow ended up clinging on your shoulder and refused to budge. He didn’t weigh much so you didn’t mind and you guessed he was missing his sire and needed some contact to stay grounded.

In the afternoon, the potion was ready. First, you poured the potion into the bat’s mouth like you had done the previous night and then filled his bowl with blood. Your work in the kitchen was done and you returned to the living room, settling in the armchair. The vampire curled up in your lap and you petted his head while you flipped through a random book from your stack on the floor. You had run out of space so your books were everywhere now. You should hire someone to make more shelves for you.

The vampire was getting drowsy so you left him in the armchair and you went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for yourself. It was part of your routine to have a cup of tea along with some baked goods in the afternoon. Living away from civilization, you had discovered the comfort of mundane moments and the importance of a nice routine. 

You boiled water and looked through your jars of tea. They were your own varieties, you had mixed their ingredients with light enchantments to boost their benefits. Black tea was one of your favorites to drink in the afternoon so you chose one with maple and vanilla pieces, hazelnuts, nutmeg and honeybush. It was fitting for the weather. The sweet honey fragrance mingled with vanilla tickled your nose when you opened the jar. You filled the teapot with the hot water and added two tablespoons of tea to the infuser. 

In the 4 minutes the tea required to brew, you cut a piece of the apple pie you had made yesterday and plated it. The aroma of the soft, spiced apples and the brown sugar drifted in the kitchen. A tiny bit of magic kept anything you baked as fresh as the day they were pulled out of the oven. Another thing you discovered while living in the forest was your love for baking. When you lived in the city, you had dabbled in baking, occasionally baking chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon rolls, but it wasn’t until you moved here that you truly fell in love with it. 

You arranged everything in a tray, along with a smaller cup in case the vampire wanted to try, but you stopped short at the door to the living room. The tray almost slipped from your hands at the sight of a young man sitting where the little bat used to be. He looked young, with large eyes and messy dark hair that reached past his ears. A silver ring glinted on his bottom lip and more silver earrings adorned both of his ears. He was wearing all black and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo underneath the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Hi,” he said, sheepishly waving at you. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to.”

You had to get yourself together, you had known since the beginning that it wasn’t a regular bat you were treating but a vampire that would need to turn back into his other form at some point. You had expected it, it was obvious that it would happen at some point. You shouldn’t be surprised. But you hadn’t expected him to look… like that.

“You didn’t scare me, I was just surprised,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to see you in this form.”

He fidgeted with his sleeves, making himself smaller. “Did you like my other form better? I can change back. It just makes me feel a little weird when I’m a bat for too long. But I can change back, I can.”

“No, no,” you rushed to say. “I don’t mind really. This form is nice as well.” 

Mentally, you slapped yourself, you couldn’t be more awkward if you tried. At least, the vampire looked pleased at that, a small smile making its way to his face. It was unfair that he was cute even in his human form. 

You approached and put the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s good that you are back in this form. Now, we can finally meet. What is your name?”

“Jungkook,” the vampire replied shyly and you offered your own name. “I wanted to say thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t taken me in. I’m not sure if I would have made it.” His smile tightened and you shuddered just thinking about it. “I’m really thankful for everything. If there is any way for me to repay you, I will do anything.”

“There is no need for that. I wanted to help you and it was the right thing to do. Just promise me you will be careful in the future. Your bat form is small and you saw how dangerous storms can be for you.”

Jungkook nodded, abashed. “I won’t, I promise. I thought I had some time before it hit and I wanted to explore the forest. I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry to me, it’s you who was flung from tree to tree last night.” He chuckled a little at that. “Do you want some tea? It’s black with maple and vanilla.”

“Yes, please,” he said politely.

You picked up the black ceramic teapot and paused. “I brought a cup for you because I thought you would be in your bat form. Would you like a mug?”

“No, no, the cup is fine,” Jungkook insisted.

You poured some into the cup first and then into your mug. The cup was from the same set as the teapot, black and with the same engravings of flowers and vines. Your mug was a gift from Seokjin during his pottery phase, like many of his obsessions you weren’t sure how or why it started. It was weird cups at first that looked like melting pieces of clay but he got pretty good by the end. Before he moved on to his next obsession, he was able to make things like your mug, which was shaped like a cauldron and he and Jimin had painted it to look like the night sky.

Jungkook hugged his cup in his hands, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in the sweet aroma of tea and closed his eyes in delight. 

“Do you want some honey or sugar?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch. “I usually drink my own without and I didn’t think to bring any.”

“No, it’s okay.” He took the first sip and you could tell that it wasn’t okay. He frowned, but not in the way you had seen when he was drinking blood, and pursed his lips. He didn’t say anything but it was clear he was trying to pretend that it wasn’t too bitter for him.

You chuckled and set your mug down. “I’ll bring some honey for you.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said, wincing subtly.

You got the jar of honey from the kitchen and added two teaspoons to his tea. That way, he liked it enough that he asked for a refill. While you drank your tea together, he explained to you that he was in town for a few days visiting some friends with his sire. He had spent all of his life in the city and the small town and the forest fascinated him. He knew that there was a storm coming but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. He had been planning to go for a quick flight to stretch his wings before it hit, he hadn’t got to explore the forest yet and he was curious. Unfortunately, the storm hit early and the wind had dragged him deeper into the darkness.

“I thought I wouldn’t make it out,” he admitted quietly, holding his cup close to his chest. “It was so strong and so loud and I couldn’t fight it. I’m not very strong in my bat form, I’m still young and I don’t have much practice. I couldn’t hold on to anything and I couldn’t find shelter. I was thinking about my sire and how sad he would be. He must be very worried.”

The bond between sires and their fledglings was very strong and for the first months after the turning, some sires wouldn’t even let their fledgling out of their sight. For years, the sires would take care of the younger vampires, help them adjust, and teach them everything about their new life. It wasn’t commonly understood but sires needed their fledglings as much as their fledglings needed them. You had read that there was a part of them, an echo of their own blood from the turning in their fledgling’s bloodstream, that called for them to be by their side.

“The storm is messing up with any means of magical communication but as soon as it calms a little, I can send a message to town,” you offered. “We can let him know you’re safe here until the worst passes and you can safely return to town. The townspeople know me, it will be alright.”

“Thank you.” You had lost count of how many times he had thanked you since he had changed forms. 

You finished your tea and roped him into a game of cards to distract him from the thoughts of his sire. He got engrossed into the game quickly and he won two out of the three rounds you played. He had a competitive streak and he learned quickly the rules of every game you taught him. 

It had been a few months since you had played cards with someone. Jimin had been the one to teach you and you had only ever played with him and Seokjin. It was fun to share this with someone else, even when he pouted when he lost. You didn’t care about winning very much so you didn’t mind and his excitement when he won was heart-warming to watch.

He jumped when loud thunder cracked through the night and you told him that he didn’t have to worry. You had applied strong protections on the house and the garden. And the forest protected you too. The storm was interfering with its magic but nothing could change its core and nothing could turn it on you. Turning on you would be like turning on itself and the forest was too wise for that.

You played games until well into the night. Jungkook’s eyes were growing heavy and his mouth stretched in small yawns. It was time to go to sleep. Jungkook curled up on the couch and you carried two knitted blankets to the living room and wrapped them around him. His cheeks grew rosy and he giggled at being tucked into bed like a child. 

You left the fire burning in the hearth to keep him warm in the night.

“Goodnight, Jungkook. Have sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” he said, muffled by the blankets. “Sweet dreams.”

There was a change in the air like the turning of the tides. Your limbs were lighter and something different was lingering on your skin. You padded to the window and drew the curtains to the side. The sky was cloudy but it was no longer the suffocating darkness of the day before. The trees swayed and the rain persisted but it wasn’t attempting to drown the earth anymore. The storm was breaking.

You threw on one of your long black skirts and a brown sweatshirt and climbed down the stairs to the living room. Jungkook was sitting up on the couch and already looking in your direction when you walked inside. Supernatural hearing, you forgot about it sometimes. 

"Good morning,” you greeted him. “The storm is slowly calming down. I will probably be able to send a message to the town and by tomorrow, it will be safe for you to return.”

“Thank you so much,” Jungkook said. He was fidgeting with his sleeves again but his smile was unmistakable. “I hope my sire will forgive me for being so careless.”

“I’m sure he will. For now, breakfast blood?”

Jungkook’s smile widened as he eagerly agreed. You couldn’t offer him the amount of blood he was used to, you had to ration it to make sure that it would last. It would be very difficult to get human blood once your supply was gone. 

You hadn’t reached the kitchen yet when you sensed someone pass through your wards. The presence was familiar, the knowledge sitting in a hidden pocket in your brain and you couldn’t touch it. Jungkook hurried to the window, the path leading up to the door could be seen from there. He let out a small yelp before bolting to the door and throwing it open.

“Yoongi!” he shouted the name that had circled your mind for years. The presence was in your house and the name fit like a glove. Against your better judgment, you walked towards them to see for yourself. It could be someone else, couldn’t it? You just had to take a look.

He was clinging to Jungkook, hugging him so tightly it looked painful. Half of his face was hidden against the fledgling’s shoulder but it was unmistakably him. The memories were as clear as when you made them, they resurfaced stronger than any of your nightly musings bordering on regrets. His hair was longer than you remembered, reaching past his nape, his cat eyes were clenched shut and his skin was white porcelain. He was also drenched to the bone.

“I looked for you,” he said and his voice awoke more memories. “I looked for you everywhere I could– But the storm was too strong. We were locked inside for so long. They wouldn’t let me out. Don’t ever do that to me again, do you hear me? Don’t ever disappear on me like that. I was going out of my mind.”

“Never, I promise.” Jungkook was hugging him just as tight and although he was bigger in stature, he made himself smaller in the older vampire’s arms. “I’m alright. I was safe here. The wind carried me here and I was well taken care of. I should introduce you,” he said with excitement, pulling back a little.

Yoongi opened his eyes, their dark color made your heart beat faster. He looked at you behind Jungkook and when your eyes connected you could see the myriad of emotions passing through them. First, there was surprise, then disbelief and confusion and all the minor ones in-between. You had disappeared from one day to another, leaving no trace behind and no trail to follow. He must have believed he would never see you again.

Oblivious to the change in the atmosphere, Jungkook introduced you to each other, telling his sire how well you took care of him and that you kept him warm and well-fed and healed his injuries. You couldn’t read Yoongi, there must have been a point in your history that you had been able to but that was lost now. 

There was silence after the introductions were over. Jungkook’s eyes jumped between the two of you. “Did I say something?”

“No, no, we just– We knew each other. In another life,” you said. Before you had enough of the wary glances and offending questions and fled the city. Before the manifestation of everything you had been afraid of. 

Yoongi’s lips parted and he looked away. “We did. In another life,” he repeated bitterly. 

“Oh.” Jungkook stood awkwardly between the two of you, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

Thunder boomed outside and you rushed to close the door that they had forgotten half-open during their reunion. That served to remind you about the very important fact that Yoongi was wet enough to have taken a long dive in the lake.

“I’ll bring some towels, you’re dripping,” you said and climbed upstairs. 

It was an escape but a necessary one. It gave you some time to think. Jungkook’s sire was Yoongi. Yoongi, who you had known for years when you lived in the city, who you had tried to forget for years while you lived in this cottage but gave in once you realized it was impossible. He starred in most of your favorite memories from the city. And that’s exactly what he was supposed to be. A memory.

What was he doing in your forest? You had run so far away from the city that no one from your past would be able to find you. Except one. You had one link left to your old life, Seokjin. Seokjin was the one who had shown you this cottage hidden in the forest that spilled into his hometown. When the incident had happened and you were desperate for an escape, he had been your savior and he had swore not to tell anyone about your whereabouts. Seokjin was also Yoongi’s friend.

The dots were connecting. Seokjin and Jimin were the friends Yoongi and Jungkook were visiting. 

You grabbed two forest green towels and paused in the hallway. Seokjin hadn’t told you. The few times you had seen him in the past weeks, he hadn't mentioned anything about Yoongi. A twinge of hurt scraped at your heart. He should have told you. If he knew Yoongi would be visiting, why wouldn’t he tell you? He knew who Yoongi used to be to you. Had he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it? No one was supposed to know you were here but that was all over now.

You took a deep breath and returned downstairs. Yoongi was where you had left him, a small puddle of rainwater pooled at his feet. Jungkook’s clothes were also a little wet from their embrace but it was nothing compared to his sire.

“Here,” you said, handing him the towels.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for your floor.”

“The floor can be cleaned. You will catch your death like this.”

He rubbed his hair with the towel. “I’m already dead.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t work on me. I know vampires are not as indestructible as you would like to think. I have a spell to get all the water out of your clothes but I haven’t tried it on clothes that are currently being worn.”

Yoongi looked down at his drenched clothes. “It’s not that bad.”

“You are making a small lake on the floor,” you pointed out. “You didn’t even take an umbrella with you?”

“It was no use against the wind.” 

The wind wasn’t so bad now but you guessed it must have been worse when he set out to find Jungkook. He could have been looking for hours before he stumbled upon your house. Usually, the forest helped along the ones who looked for you but the storm was messing with its energy.

Yoongi gave you permission to use the drying spell on his clothes, his face scrunching up when the water was removed. You didn’t use it often because it left the clothes stiff and weird to the touch for some time. They turned too dry but in the present situation, you didn’t have many options. 

Jungkook was still looking between the two of you in confusion as he held on to Yoongi’s arm, although witnessing the spell had put a smile on his face.

“Now that you’re dry, let’s move to the living room,” you said. “I’ll get the fire going and make some tea. None of you are going out in the rain.”

Yoongi studied you and you felt naked under his eyes. He was the only person from your past, other than Seokjin, that you had seen since you fled. He knew a version of you that no longer existed and you hadn’t been prepared for that. In the end, you should have known. The past always comes knocking regardless of how long and how far you run from it. 

Yoongi didn’t pretend to turn you down to be polite but silently followed you to the living room. Jungkook pointed to the armchair by the fire that he had claimed for himself and gushed about how comfortable and soft it was. However, he didn’t sit there in favor of staying close to Yoongi on the couch. It was clear he had missed his sire and he needed to be as close to him as possible.

You picked up a few logs of wood from the metal box near the fireplace and stacked them inside. You added two layers of kindling and reached for the matches.

“How do you know each other?” Jungkook asked, breaking the fragile silence. 

Yoongi looked at you, staying quiet. He was going to let you share as much as you wanted. You were surprised that he wasn’t asking more questions himself. Maybe he hadn’t cared as much as Seokjin had told you. Maybe it was the shock.

“I used to live in the city,” you started. “I went to the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery and we met on campus. Yoongi was visiting a friend of his.”

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asked and Yoongi nodded. 

Namjoon was another person who you hadn’t seen in years. He was a powerful witch but he had chosen the academic route and didn’t practice magic much. You hadn’t been very close but you could have got there. You enjoyed his company and you could talk for hours. You would see him in the library and around campus and you had coffee together a few times and talked about magic theory and how energy flowed through living things. Seokjin was your only link to him as well and you had learned from him that he was still teaching at the University and he had been promoted from assistant professor to professor. When the news reached them, Seokjin and Jimin had traveled to the city to celebrate with him.

“We haven’t spoken since she left the city,” Yoongi said it simply like you had decided to leave one day instead of fleeing in the night, taking the last train to a town in the middle of nowhere. That had been five years ago.

You lit up a match, the action familiar and comforting, and threw it between the logs. The fire spread slowly, enveloping the wood. You stroked the flames with the poker, pushing and pulling the logs until the fire was burning strong.

You got up and wiped your hands on the soot-stained towel that hung from the same hook as the poker. “I’ll make some tea to fend off the cold.”

In the kitchen, you put on your apron with the embroidered mushrooms and marigolds, taking a moment to pull yourself together. It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The ghosts of your past never disappeared but they hadn’t been more than ghosts until now. 

You focused on the task at hand, setting the water to boil and opening the cabinet that housed your tea jars. Echinacea and elderberry tea with dried angel lotus leaves was the most effective for preventing colds and boosting the immune system. Its taste was also nice and soothing. 

You were putting spoonfuls of the tea blend into the strainer when Yoongi walked inside. His footsteps were soundless and you felt his presence before you saw him. Vampires’ energies were different than most creatures. They weren’t alive, not exactly, and energies were tied to a creature’s life force. Therefore, for vampires, their energies were unique and as a witch who could feel life and death very acutely, you could detect them easily.

“Have you been here all this time?” he asked after a few moments of silence. 

The sounds of boiling water caught your attention, steam was coming out of the kettle’s spout. You removed the kettle from over the fire and poured the water into the teapot. 

“I have,” you replied. There was nothing else to say, any explanations you could offer were useless. 

“That’s it? That’s all after all these years?” Yoongi asked. 

You couldn’t look at him, fiddling with herbs there was nothing to do with and glancing at the large clock on the wall for the brewing time. “I don’t know what else to say. You know why I had to leave. I couldn’t stay after what happened.”

“And you chose to disappear without a word?” When you didn’t answer, he continued. “I was sure that Seokjin knew where you were but he swore he didn’t. He said you disappeared without telling him anything and that he hadn’t heard from you since. Regardless of how many times I asked, it was always the same answer.”

“I asked him to say that to anyone who asked,” you admitted. “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi shake his head slowly in disbelief. “Why? Why didn’t you want me to know?” 

It hurt to keep quiet but there was no way to make this better. You couldn’t tell him that you had been afraid although a part of you knew Yoongi wouldn’t judge you, like Seokjin wouldn’t judge you. But your fear had been too big and all-consuming, fear of what he would think and also fear of what you could do. Your magic had proved to be much stronger than you had believed and you needed to regain control of it to ensure you wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And Yoongi was too strong of a link to the city. Your feelings were too much and too complicated. If he had known where you had run to, there was a chance he would have followed and it wouldn’t be only Seokjin you had doomed to a life in a small town he hadn’t wanted to return to. 

Yoongi sighed. “That's all then. I came here to thank you for taking care of Jungkook,” he said, breaking the silence. “I will forever be in your debt. Jungkook told me of how you found him and how you cared for him. I was out of my mind when I couldn’t find him and I realised he was out in the storm alone. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything had happened to him, I would never forgive myself. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

“I will tell you what I told him, there is no need for thanks or debts. I wanted to help him and I did. The fact that he is a very cute bat also helped, I couldn’t resist.”

Your attempt at a joke was rewarded with a weak chuckle. “It’s those big eyes. It’s impossible to tell him no.”

“I can imagine that.” You glanced at the clock again. The tea was ready. “I guess you are visiting Jin. Now that the weather won’t interfere as much with my magic, I should send him a fire message to let him know that you are both here and safe. Knowing him, he will be fretting over where you are and driving Jimin crazy.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t tell him I would be leaving in the morning,” Yoongi confessed. It made sense, Seokjin wouldn’t have let him leave while the rain was still this heavy and definitely not without an umbrella. “Should I take this to the living room?” He gestured to the tray you had set up with the teapot and the three mugs.

“Yes, go ahead. The tea is ready.”

Yoongi picked up the tray and left the kitchen without saying anything more. There was a painful tightness in your throat as your shoulders slumped. You had to send that message to Seokjin but your feet were rooted to the ground and your knees were weak. You had thought you would never see Yoongi again and although it hurt, after years you had made peace with it. All that was [changed] by the storm and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You opened one of the drawers and pulled out a crinkled loose leaf of paper from the stack you kept there. On the counter, there was a pen next to the old witchcraft recipe book you had been studying the day before. You gripped the pen and debated how you should start the letter. He had known Yoongi was coming to town and yet he had told you nothing when he knew why you had run away and why no one should know where you were. He was supposed to be your best friend and best friends looked out for each other. For the first time during your friendship, that wasn’t true.

Suppressing your stupid anger, you wrote a quick message letting him know that Jungkook and Yoongi were safe in your house and that you would send them back to town once the rain and the forest’s magic calmed down. Towards the end, you added that you would like to know about any future guests of his from the city. You considered crossing over the bitterness that bled into the page but you let it be. Using black chalk, you drew the sigil for the fire message at the top right corner.

You lit up a blood-red candle and burned some thyme over the flame first. You recited the incantation while you held the message over the fire and watched it consume the paper. The magic was a lazy tingle at your fingertips and a warmth curled in your chest.

Yoongi and Jungkook were talking in hushed voices that were swiftly silenced when you walked back to the living room. The tea had been poured into the mugs but they were untouched. You picked up one of them on your way to the armchair. Conversation was stilted. Jungkook tried to alleviate the awkwardness but was soon shrinking into his sire’s side, clutching onto his mug of tea with both hands. 

“The rain is growing weaker,” you observed. “The forest’s magic is settling, it can be unpredictable during storms and it’s dangerous to tread through it when it is like that. It will be best for you to return to the town before it picks up again.”

There would be another spike in a couple of hours before it broke in the night. That’s how storms like this one worked and what your senses were telling you.

You accompanied them to the door and they thanked you again. It felt like you didn’t deserve it with your past mistakes clinging to you like vices. Jungkook was quieter than last night when you were practically a stranger.

“Here,” you said, handing Yoongi the only umbrella you owned. It was a black one with little mushrooms Jimin had painted on it and enchanted them not to be washed away by rain. “I don’t use it much and I won’t be going into town for a few days. Seokjin can bring it back when he finds time.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi said.

You picked up your cloak from the coat stand and offered it to Jungkook. “And this is for you. It’s charmed to protect you from rain.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, making him look like a baby deer. “I can’t take your cloak,” he said, shaking his head. “You might need it.”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have anywhere to go.” You would have to go to the farmhouse later in the day but it was only a short distance away and a little rain wouldn’t phase you. You took it up to yourself to wrap the cloak around him and pull the hood over his head. “I didn’t nurse you back to health for you to get sick now.”

Suddenly, there was a blur of movement and strong arms were wrapped around you. Jungkook was hugging you and, when the shock wore off, you hugged him back.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, his voice sounding a little wet.

“If anything, you found me,” you joked. You pulled back, although you didn’t want to let go of him. “Go now. The forest will lead you to the town.”

“I will bring the cloak back to you,” Jungkook promised before he and Yoongi left. On the path, Yoongi glanced back at you over his shoulder but you averted your eyes and closed the door.

Five years and your heart still fluttered. But it was different. There was guilt tainting everything surrounding him. You had imagined meeting him again countless times, of course, you had, mostly during restless nights and too quiet mornings, but it hadn’t played out like this in any of your scenarios. It was too… simple, too mundane, even though your heart was still racing, but it also felt a little like the end of the world. 

Their mugs were sitting empty on the coffee table. You placed them on the tray to take everything back in the kitchen and you realized that you had forgotten to at least put some cookies in a plate for them. Vampires didn’t eat much human food but it was simple courtesy to offer.

There was a spark in the air, followed by another, before flames erupted and formed a letter. You caught it before it floated to the ground. The loopy handwriting belonged to Seokjin. The first line was an apology, the second line was an apology as well. He promised to visit as soon as he could to explain and that you had every right to be angry at him. He thanked you for letting him know that Yoongi and Jungkook were safe since Yoongi had taken off in the morning before Seokjin had woken up, otherwise, he wouldn’t have let him go off in the rain. Reading his letter, the jagged edges of your anger smoothed but Seokjin would have to explain himself in person.

You picked up the tray and set yourself to tidying up. It was strange, you had lived alone for five years but the house felt emptier than ever before.

Taglist: @nochuwastaken @blancflms @rinkud @seokteoksworld

Please comment and reblog, it motivates me to keep writing!

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.62)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: love becomes guilt, predator becomes prey, and Jin becomes...

Tags: Hospitals, medical talk, sicfic, seizures, angst, hurt/comfort, assassin! Jimin, implied autistic! jimin, meltdowns, settling, non-sexual biting, Mafia shit, murder, Dead bodies, Guns, violence, blood. everyone lives nobody dies, morality conversations, revenge, secrets

W/c: 10.9k

A/n: thank you to everyone who helped me make my birthday this year super special <3 im sorry if i was bad at thanking people publicly for their specific gifts <3 i figured that the next best way i could say thank you was to give you another chapter...be warned, this one ends on QUITE the cliffhanger....be warned

Previous part ~ Masterlist

The hospital is cold, maybe that’s just because of the first snow.

It gathers on the trees outside like a faint white outline where someone forgot to fill the image in. Cresting the shoulders of everyone who walks into the hospital and turning the streetlight into halos and the sky into one big white blanket. The whole world is a nest when the weather is like this. Maybe if the whole world was a nest, it would be enough to keep you all safe.

It’s useless to hope, as you wait with Jimin outside of Jungkook’s hospital room.

The hospital is a mess of glowing exit signs and endless beeping. A dull roar in your ears from coming down adrenaline and a telephone nearby blares. The scratchy intercom system overhead pages a doctor for a code red. Whatever that is. You sit and wait, worrying and picking at your nails, full of useless energy. There is nothing to do but wait until someone tells you if Jungkook’s alright.

You're not sure if he will be, this seizure was a bad one.

You and Jimin sit side by side, and you don’t talk. You don’t even touch. You don’t know what you prefer, the instant terror of the car bomb, or this slow terror. Slow terror feels like nails dragging down the back of your skull, like clothes that are two sizes too tight. A bad taste in your mouth, not blood and not soot either.

The relief of finding out that Jungkook wasn’t calling you because Moonbyul had done something to him was only temporary. instead of your packmate there was a stranger on the other end of the line.

He’d still been seizing when you’d got back to the coffee shop. Foreghein scents on him and a crowd of patrons and paramedics surround him. His eyes rolled back into his skull, on his side, blue lips and froth on the edge of his mouth. Luckily, someone in that coffee shop was a doctor, was able to keep him semi-comfortable but-

This seizure had lasted a long time. Too long. Jungkook has been a patient at most of the local hospitals before on account of how unpredictable his seizures are. He has directives as per Namjoon's guidance, in place since before they were even packmates. Anything more than 6 minutes needs an overnight stay and copious testing. This seizure had lasted almost 10. The longest he's had in years.

You'd watched horrified and all too familiar with it as they’d loaded your still twitching packmate into the red box. Unsympathetic paramedics unwilling to hear your pleas to just let Jimin ride with them to the hospital (he'd tailgated them the whole way) but even at the hospital you and Jimin still couldn’t see him. They whisked him right up for an MRI.

Maybe you’d be less unnerved if Jungkook had woken up, but he hasn’t yet.

They’re still running tests and keeping him under just to be sure. Not a medical coma, but the step below that. Something about Jungkook’s malfunctioned ocular nerve and not wanting to trigger more seizures with more stimuli until the lorazepam and half a dozen other medications have time to take effect.

Jimin is the one who okayed those. He signed those papers for medications as easily as if he were swiping his card or maybe firing a gun. You feel out of your depth here, even if Jimin is very used to this. It’s been a while. It’s not your fault the luck ran out. Maybe that’s why he’s angry, maybe that’s why he’s not touching you. You are at once, somewhere between a four-leaf clover and a bad luck charm. Intangible and unsure of your odds.

Maybe Jimin's not touching you because he hates you, maybe he hates you because you forced him to let you come with him. you'd have been by Jungkook's side while this happened if you hadn't. But Jimin might have died from the explosion then-

Jungkook might still die, you realize with a lurch. Jungkook might die because of the seizures and could die at any time really. It's so easy to forget. Maybe that's why Jimin's not touching you. Your thoughts rush over you, wave after wave.

But Jimin thinks you don’t deserve to be touched when he’s this angry. You’ve had a lifetime’s worth of an angry alpha touching you and he won’t be one of them. Won’t make you worse when you’re sitting small and fragile. Barely there, barely alive. No, he'll keep his shaking hands tightened to fists on his knees and his angry tongue locked behind pursed lips. touching you would be more for him than it is for you he's convinced.

Too close, they were too close today. Jimin promised you that he wouldn’t let them hurt you. He promised and he'd failed. you still have the gash on your chin.

His worry for Jungkook is another monster entirely, one that can't be made better with actions, that can't be fixed with his own two hands.

Yoongi and Tae are the first to arrive. Your mate’s hair is wet and tousled, in a pair of pajama pants on like he’d just been showering for the evening before he’d come. Tae is close behind, a pair of pink sweatpants poking out from below her long thick coat and her long nightdress tucked into the waistband. The same dress you cuddled up beneath this morning. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Yoongi holds your cheeks, searching your face. The words tumble from your lips, the first you and Jimin have said in what feels like hours.

“He was just- we were just getting the car and we thought he’d be fine for a second but then-” you feel like you’re going to be sick all over his shoes. In his hurry, Yoongi put on a pair of Tae’s Uggs, the platform ones. You don't know why your brain fixates on that.

“It’s not your fault,” is the first thing he says, although even he sounds unsure. You shouldn’t have left him alone are the words that he must be thinking, the words that no one’s saying.

(This is a lie. This is your brain making up the worst-case scenario and clinging to it. There is nothing anyone can do, no precautions that they can take that they already haven’t when it comes to Jungkook’s seizures. Yoongi just gets small and quiet whenever Jungkook is sick. Jungkook will always be sick, and this quiet devastation will always find your mate because he loves Jungkook so).

There is nothing to do but wait, even though waiting with them is better than waiting alone.

The people at the coffee shop said they saw jungkook lie down before he started seizing. That's the only way they were able to call you, because he'd had your contact open on his phone. He'd known he was about to have one and he'd tried to call you. He'd been afraid and alone and then he'd been nothing.

The movements of the hospital slosh the four of you like an unmoored boat while you wait. Every doctor coming closer prompts a turn of your head and pleading eyes. Hoping that they’re the ones that will relieve you of your misery. Your leg jumps up and down, jittery. Jimin by comparison is deathly still.

Yoongi goes up to the desk and Tae sits between you and Jimin, one hand a piece on either of your thighs. You lean into her and Jimin rests his cheek on her shoulder slowly. She holds around your shoulders, looking back and forth between the two of you. She doesn’t any anything.

Her fingers rub up and down your shoulder, feeling the crumbliness there. She picks her hand up, and you watch as she takes in the darkness. It's soot.

“It’s from the ambulance,” Jimin says before you can force your words to cooperate and lie.

Jin comes through with a flurry of his long felted coat, snow gathering on his wide shoulder. Holding his keys in his hand and almost dropping them when you stand to collide with him. He has just a choked-out "pup" for you but then there's the nurse, the one you've been waiting for. Telling you that Jungkook's fine- he's not awake yet- but that you can wait in his room with him until he does.

Jungkook doesn't have too many wires connected to him, nothing more than an electrode at his temple, one at his heart, and an IV in his wrist. His hospital gown is pulled down to his collarbones so that the electrodes don't pull, but his skin is absent of his usual healthy flush.

You wait, watching until you notice the rise and fall of his chest. Even and beautiful breath. Jungkook is alive, Jungkook is breathing of his own accord. You let out a single broken sob, but you're not the only one.

You watch Yoongi brush his hair back from his face, eyes glassy. Seokjin sits by his right side and tae takes the other. Jimin and you stand at the foot of his bed, just watching him. No one says anything. Every beep of the heart monitor is anticipated, every second more precious.

"There's nothing on his MRI that indicates any lasting brain damage from the seizure," the nurse states, fussing with Jungkook's IV. "but it will be hard to know until he wakes up. You might notice him unable to recognize you or speak for a few minutes- the location of the seizure may have affected his language and motor capabilities so-"

She continues to list his prognosis, but it's nothing you didn't know before. Every seizure has a risk of taking out part of Jungkook's faculties, his fine motor skills, and his speech. But a seizure has never damaged him beyond repair before. Tae takes one of Jungkook's hands from the bed and brings it to her face, trying to hide her tears but it's no use.

It’s startling, how much your body relaxes upon Namjoon’s presence, you feel the shift in the air before he enters the room. Nauseous one moment and then fine the next. He enters the room, hand skimming the top of your head and Yoongi's side as he be-lines it to Jungkook's chart.

His scent is so thick- comforting coffee even if it is a a little stale. You sway, and when he looks up, his eyes flicker from you and then the nurse.

Today is not the end of the world, even though it feels like it. It feels like it's ending every time Jungkook finds his way into a hospital bed, a good 3 or 4 times in a year. Honestly, they’ve been so quiet recently, so unnoticeable that they should have known a bigger one was building.

“Dr. Kim,” Jungkook’s nurse says, this is not Namjoon’s hospital, but he is on Jungkook’s file. This nurse looks at him and waits for his call. Namjoon flicks past one page on his chart and then another, pursing his lips.

“Why didn't Avery order a Ct? it’s not here.”

“The ct has already been run Dr. Kim, He put the order in 4 minutes ago” Namjoon hums, and you watch the clench of his jaw, the extra tight way he bites his cheek. And it’s then you realize oh, Namjoon is about to cry.

Yoongi gets to him before you do, Jungkook’s fingers twitch of their own accord against Namjoon’s wrist and Yoongi grips his shoulder. Namjoon looks back at him and at the same time, Jungkook opens his eyes blinking against the dim lights.

His words are all garbled for the first few seconds after a seizure, the Jumbled groan startling enough that you flinch. Yoongi backs up so that Jin and Namjoon can hold him down as he reaches blindly, startled and moving before his brain has a second to catch up.

"It's okay Jungkook, you had a seizure. You were out for a few hours, You're okay,"

"Come up slowly, don't try to sit up there you go."

Jungkook tries to get up and out of the bed but has to be held down by namjoon until his brain comes back online, he continues to speak garbled nonsense for a moment. Too loud, voice loud after so much quiet. It startles you; you take a step back.

And almost step right on Hobi’s shoes.

Hoseok is there, hand on the small of your back. Snowflakes that still haven’t melted in his hair. He doesn’t say hi to you, but his hand stays there. Pressed flat. He only has eyes for Jungkook. Jungkook relaxes, falling back on the bed, and gets one coherent syllable out and then another. It's their names-.

"Alpha- Joon- hughr-"

Jungkook pants, breathing heavily, and then his hand reaches up steadily, to touch the electrode on his head. Yoongi's hand closes around his just in case, but he doesn't rip it off.

Everyone waits with bated breath.

“You alright kookie?” Hoseok asks careful, with that same level of humor in his voice that you’ve come to need. His smile is as genuine as ever as he looks down a Jungkook in the hospital bed. Jungkook’s hand is tight around Namjoon’s as he stretches, muscles aching. He’s always so sore after a seizure. It's always so disorienting coming out of them like this.

Jungkook waits, testing out his words. “I feel like Like it got hit by a trucking fuck.”

He blinks, and the lights are turned low, but a breath passes and Tae laughs and so does Yoongi, and then everyone's laughing and sort of crying. Your knees go a little weak and you turn into hobi's chest hiding your tears.

Jungkook just blinks at the ceiling. “That wasn’t right.” But then everyone's smiling. Happy because he's talking, happy because it looks like the seizure didn't do any lasting damage. Jin rests his head on the coverlet and sighs a happy sound. All too relieved to hear Jungkook act something like himself. Wordlessly Jin brings Jungkook's wrist to his face, pressing his nose to his scent gland.

The hospital room isn’t big enough for all of you let alone when more staff enter the room along with someone who Namjoon must know, because she instantly starts listing off different medical jargon. Asking Jungkook how many fingers she's holding up, Namjoon's name, then testing his reflexes on his hands and toes. Stress tests and memory tests.

One moment you’re standing in the doorway and then the next you’re pressed to the wall between Tae, Jimin, and Hobi.

The hospital room isn’t big enough for all of you let alone when more staff enters the room along with someone whom Namjoon must know, because she instantly starts listing off different medical jargon and refers to him by name.

One moment you’re standing in the doorway and then the next you’re pressed to the wall between Tae, Jimin, and Hobi. Tae opens the door and gestures. You step out because it’s surely more important that Namjoon Jin and Yoongi get at Jungkook right now even if your heart clenches painfully at leaving Jungkook.

Jimin is still vibrating out of his skin, has been since Jungkook opened his eyes. But Tae tugs him in for a hug in the hallway. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you watch him hug her back. But Jungkook was Tae and Jimin’s packmate first. It’s no wonder that this has shocked them both closer, their fight forgotten.

Or mostly forgotten, you watch as Jimin wraps his arms around her slowly, like he's not sure he's allowed.

Hobi jogs you out of your starting, turning your face towards his and, looking at you intently. Eyes flickering down to your chin and then to your eyes. You forget what he’s looking at until his fingers skim below your lips and you feel pain.

You drag your arm across it and it leaves a small rusty trail in its wake on the sleeve of Tae's jacket, just another stain on it. Oh, you fell during the blast and banged your face, you'd almost forgotten.

“Tripped, banged my face on the sidewalk.” it's close enough to the truth that the lie goes unnoticed. Hobi makes a sound, holding your elbow. Squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’m gonna get some snacks from the vending machine, can I get you something?”

“Didn’t eat dinner” you say, staring down at Hobi’s red Converse. There are scuffs on the linoleum and a drop of blood someone must have missed. You wonder who it’s from, another person from the emergency room probably. “You sure Jin and Joon won’t be angry if my dinner is just sweets?”

Tae is close enough to overhear, and she rubs her cheek across the top of Jimin’s head, scenting him sweet (or trying to.) “Yeah- junk food isn’t exactly the most nutritious.”

You stumble, stepping close, swaying suddenly on your feet. Hobi catches you around the shoulders and for a second, you must look like the mirror image of Tae and Jimin.

Hobi's scent smarts with worry and he pushes you back, making you sit down. “They can live with it, she deserves a special treat. I’m getting you a Band-Aid.” Tae looks like she wants to argue with Hobi, then doesn’t.

Hobi gets Skittles and Peanut Eminem’s and two bags of funyuns that you pick apart while you wait for the doctors to be done. The colorful packages are scattered across your lap as he tilts your head to put the Band-Aid on your chin (gotten from a helpful nurse). Fingers that tenderly curve under the wide part of your jaw, drumming there.

Tae nibbles on a peach ring. Inside Jungkook's hospital room, it isn't quiet, but the four of you are silent with exhaustion listening in. Jin sounds relieved, and the low grumble from your mate sounds just as happy.

Jimin still isn’t speaking much, just pacing back and forth in front of Jungkook’s door. When you say you feel nauseous, Hobi gets up and gets you ginger ale too. You know there just isn’t much for him to do, alpha instincts and no omega to cool them but you. Hobi holds your hand, he doesn’t say that Jungkook’s going to be okay. He doesn’t say anything but.

“Which are your favorite?”

The back of Skittles jingles and he picks out all the green ones, lining up his pants in an orderly little row for you to grab when the ones you suck on go small enough.

You don't realize you're crying until he gets you a tissue, dabbing at your cheek. "There you go, Kookies gonna be fine. He's always fine." His voice goes slower, honeyed.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder, and he lets you. “You got a pair of headphones?” Your breath is shaky, and you think you might be shaking apart right now if it wasn’t for Hobi.

Namjoon stares at the packages for a second too long when he exits the door. His hair is pushed up like he’s run his fingers through it, but he doesn’t smell quite as worried as he did before. He looks at the package and you shrink underneath his disapproving stare.

He all but snaps his fingers, “Tae, would you please go get some real food.” Hobi does not flinch at Namjoon’s cross-tone, even as Tae shoots to her feet and chirps "Yes alpha!"

Hobi doesn’t do anything but stare Namjoon down, put a pink starburst on his tongue, slowly.

Jimin keeps pacing.

“We’re sleeping here tonight.” It’s not an order or a request- your pack alpha has decided that this is too great a danger to separate you so you won’t separate. Neither of you pipes up anything to the contrary, now is not the time for contrary voices.

Jimin is still pacing. Black leather shoes smoothed and silent, barely acknowledging the pack alpha.

He’s making you anxious, your scent sour even to your own nose as your eyes track him back and forth. Namjoon pulls you to your feet, hand lingering on the back of your neck. “Will you be okay in those clothes pup? Or should someone go home and get your things?”

You hear the request for what it is; Namjoon is asking you if you think the alphas need a nest to settle if you think they need a change of clothes and things that smell like pack tonight for sleep and safety. he's leaving this up to you.

Your hands stay buried in the pockets of Tae’s white floral jacket. Hoping he doesn’t notice the soot smudge on your shoulder. “It'll be fine just-” your eyes are half glassy, “are you sure Koo will be okay?”

The pack alpha pulls you to his front, and one of the nurses passing by gives you both a look, you have to get on your tippy toes to kiss him. "of course he's going to be, we're making sure of it" Namjoon promises.

"I meant like, without a nest."

Namjoon laughs, and you watch the stress melt off his shoulders. he turns, guiding you inside with a peculiar look over his shoulder at Hobi. “I’m sure he’d love it if you’d help him make one. he already wants to start"

Jungkook looks a little bit better, with less of a pale-yellow flush to his face and more of a healthy glow. pouting down at the blankets and complaining that they're too rough.

For someone who looks so physically well/muscles defined even when they’re not flexed, it’s always a bit startling to see him lying prone and exhausted, lights dim to avoid the risk of another seizure.

Tae comes back with some food, and you all eat in silence, white Styrofoam containers balanced across your knees. The faint crinkle and drag of plastic spoons scraping plastic bowls. Jungkook eats hospital food. Nibbles it, and doesn't throw it up. One of the side effects of the medication is nausea.

The only one not at ease is Jimin, who doesn’t eat, sitting tacitly in the corner watching each of you, getting up occasionally to pace. The pack let him work off his restless energy until it’s clear it’s making Jungkook restless too. Shifting and watching him. His request of, “Minnie will you come and sit by me?” goes unanswered as Jimin flexes his hands from open palm to open fist again and again.

Jungkook watches the jello in his plastic tray jiggle with the force of Jimin's pacing, back and forth. Back and forth. Tae sighs, and Yoongi stiffens.

He goes like that, pacing one two three steps just in front of Tae before turning. He falls apart like this until Jin steps up to intercept him, and Jimin rocks to a stop rather than crash into him. He’s put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, fingers digging into the tense ball there. Moving quicker than any of you thought possible.

“Breathe.” Comes his terse request. A little broken, a little begging. But Jimin’s alpha will never willingly disobey an order from his pack omega, that’s what’s happening, isn’t it? Jimin’s alpha has taken over, took over the second he saw Jungkook lying between those two tables in the coffee shop. All instinct and no Jimin, all fear and pulse and get them safe get them home get them out.

But it’s like Jimin’s lungs are pried open from it. He gasps, and Jin pulls him in for a thorough scent mark, systematically dragging his teeth from ear to ear, hard enough to leave dull red lines in his wake. You watch Jimin’s eyes dilate and constrict, plush lips parting in a gasp. Looking at you.

Jin licks his teeth after, “There you go.” You don’t know if you’ve ever seen Jin settle Jimin or if you’ve ever seen him settle any of the alphas like this. Jimin asks for bites again and Jin obliges. Bending over him to drive his teeth, to nip Jimin's skin pink between his teeth. Bite after bite Jimin’s body relaxes inch by inch.

And so does the rest of the pack, underneath the covers, Jungkook shifts his hips, splaying them a little wider. Relaxing as Jimin goes boneless.

Jin’s voice is a dark croon, the tone he reserves only for Jimin and maybe Namjoon sometimes. He's a little firmer when the more dominant alphas need his touch. Jimin feels it as delicately as Yoongi's soothing thumb on the side of your thumb when Jin pinches his cheeks and shakes him a little bit.

“Now, do you want to tell Omega why you’re upset?”

“S’my fault” Jimin sways on his feet, closer to Jin’s touch than back again. a planet in orbit. the rest of the pack watched transfixed. You see Hoseok perk up slightly. “Wasn’t there.”

“Minnie, I know you,” Jin cups his cheek a little gentler. Fingers skimming stubble. “I know you,” Jin repeats, such an air of finality about it that you can’t doubt it to be true.

Jin could command the moon to shift its orbit and it would. “I know you’ll do whatever’s possible to protect the pack" Jimin's eyelashes flutter. "To your dying breath.”

“You don’t have to be so intense about it” Namjoon half snaps, any of them dying isn't what he wants to think about right now. But he's forgiven the second he realizes he's being too harsh, everyone’s a bit stressed right now.

Jin’s dark tone falls away as quick as it came, “But still- what happened with JK wasn’t your fault, isn’t that right kookie?”

Jungkook nods, eyes closed, licking his lips like he's tasting the settling in the air. “Not Jimin’s fault my brains fucked up, just how it is” Jin pecks Jimin’s head, pinning his blond hair flat. “See pup? Listen to the omega’s, You’re fine. Everyone's going to be fine."

Jin speaks the words so surely you almost believe it.

The hospital is a bit generous with the extra sleeping cots (Namjoon might have called his boss and asked him to pull privileges), and you get 3 that they roll up one on one side of Jungkook's hospital bed, and two more on the other side.

But you and Jin pile in just around him. Cuddled up close and scenting along his shoulders, sniffling and fluffing a few extra threadbare blankets around him in a makeshift nest, full of your jackets too.

You steal Tae's pants for the nest making, letting her untuck her nightdress and let it flutter around her. But when one of the nurses comes to the door Namjoon (panicked) throws himself across the exposed line of her honeyed thighs to conceal her nakedness. but she just giggles, she’s not some Victorian maiden full of virtue, but it makes Jungkook smile and scrunch his nose. and it feels like a win even if Namjoon's cheeks go bright red.

You cuddle up, trying fitfully to banish the medicinal scent by scenting him. It's sour and not all like him, but the medicine they give him for his seizures always makes him smell a little off for a few days. It’s no less distressing to you, but Jungkook just grins and tells the others to let you do what you need when you rest your body weight on top of him and stubbornly bury your face in his chest. His hand with the attached IV strewn across your back to cradle your ribs.

Before no time Jungkook is laughing and leaning into Yoongi’s stomach where he lies across the top of the bed. In no time he's taking a few bites of veggies and a few sips of water, eyes heavy. He is tried from the seizure and medication even if he puts on a brave face.

They’ll drag him into one more MRI in the morning just to be sure that nothing concerning has developed over time but until then, the beeping of Jungkook’s heart monitor is your lullaby. Every heartbeat is a new chance. You don't even mind the lumpy hospital pillow. The pack goes quiet when Jungkook's eyes flutter, when they shut and his breathing goes deep. yoongi puts his finger to his lips and jin shifts slowly, Jungkook's head resting on his thigh. your lovely packmate resting between jin's parted legs.

The rest of the pack falls like Domino’s once Jungkook's asleep. Hobi shucks off his jeans to be more comfortable and so does Yoongi. The room is full of heavy breaths and dreams waiting to swoop in. You struggle to settle until Hobi gives you one of his headphones, and you lie close to share them, one in each of your ears. he still has his sleepy time playlist, and it blocks out the sounds of the hospital. When Sleep takes you it's thankfully dreamless.

Somehow Hobi's hand finds your waist under the covers, bunching up and tangling in his sweatshirt. Clinging to you and holding on for dear life. His bare thighs between your thin leggings tangled up in the makeshift nest. Jin only glances at your particular closeness a few times.

Sleep evades jin until he gives up on it entirely. Nothing feels quite as good to Jin’s instincts as having all of his packmates sleeping in one room. Even if it's not quite good enough to get him to fall asleep himself. But still- Jin would rather they not be here; would rather they be in the nest at home.

That will have to wait until tomorrow.

The distant hum of the hospital and the sound of his dull typing fill the room. His work computer screen is the only light in the whole room besides the monitors. Jin's computer balanced on his back because Jin had to leave during a briefing on a low-level gang member and Koo said he didn’t mind being used as a computer rest so long as Jin kept running his hands through his hair. Jimin is curled up on the next nearest cot, within petting (and settling) distance if he should need it.

7 a.m.

A look at the clock says that the pack has 5 more hours until Jungkook is allowed to be discharged. Until then, Jin will get some work done and keep an eye on the rest. Namjoon sleeps by the door, he declined a cot on account of there not being enough room for the rest of them to sleep comfortably. Namjoon turns fitfully with every new person who walks by the door. He’s gone in and out of sleep a few times. If he flinches awake again, Jin will get him a cup of coffee.

Until then, there's paperwork and an endless array of evidence for Jin to examine.

There are documents he can look over again, the same ones, back and forth. There are about 300 crime scene photos for each murder that the family has committed in the last 6 months, it doesn’t hurt to skim them again and refresh his notes.

That boy from the coffee shop burned beyond recognition. A pair of 30 caliber bullets in his chest. One under his ribs the other in his head, evidence of deep lacerations and torture on his body, bitten tongue, and evidence of red paint under his fingernails. The only other bit of evidence.

The origin of these paint flecks have been a source of annoyance and frustration for jin and the rest of his coworkers. Maybe they're evidence from a third location between abduction and dumpsite? A bit of the killer's car scraped maybe? The paint was metallic, old-fashioned. After a few minutes, Jin moves on to other murders, other people who have lives and packs and dreams that the family extinguished.

Jin no longer spends hours looking at his picture. The one of Choi Beomgyu alive and grinning. He still gets weekly calls from his pack alpha, begging Jin for any updates and leads. Jin has stopped feeling guilty over being empty-handed.

Jin’s boss's crime scene photos are a little harder to look at if only because of the nausea that those photos bring. Although Jin has become so desensitized to them that his bloated face no longer makes his stomach swirl with revulsion. His missing hand, the torn stump of it induced post-mortem.

One burned and one drowned.

These two kills are by far the family's messiest and hastiest. Usually, they don't even find this much of the bodies. Just a few fragments of bone or a tooth in a pire. Most of the time people just disappear.

What did you know, he thinks, looking at the photograph of the boy and then his charred corpse, what did you know that you shouldn’t have? Why didn't they have time to properly make you disappear? Why couldn't they risk you talking?

It’s funny, out of all the evidence, he tries to look at your cookbook and the late Don and data’s autopsy reports the least. Their tox screen and that one page that might as well be your confession and Ahn Hyejin's (Jin compared the second handwriting to a sample they had on file and matched hers to it in about an hour). Their murder was a neat and tidy little thing, but it is the murder that got his boss killed so maybe Jin should treat it with more scrutiny.

But that’s so simple, it’s almost a wonder why such a slight thread of spider silk needed snipping. Or is Jin wrong and this is a thread that could send the whole thing crumbling down?

Jin’s not sure yet, but maybe after a few more hours of pouring over this, he will be.

It’s nearing 3 in the morning and Jin is still sifting through every little bit of information when a ding punctuates the quiet in the room. Jin panic smashes the mute button before any of his packmates stir.

A warm body away, Hobi lets out a particularly deep and easy breath, and Jin relaxes.

Jin’s first thought looking at the email, is that no one not directly connected to the bureau should be able to get ahold of his email address, let alone be able to send him anything.

The email doesn’t have a heading, and the email doesn’t even have a subject or a cc. Unlike half of Jin’s other correspondents to other people giving them guidelines and delegating tasks. It's only secure for him to look at these here because everyone’s eyes are closed.

On closer look, the sender is just a random email generated with an obscure amount of Xs. He hovers over it. Cursor blinking until he clicks it, he knows better than to click on the link without launching it on his firewall server but the contents of the email aren’t anything but a video and a short line of text.

Skip to 17:19:07 for the fun parts :)

The video isn’t infested with bugs planning on robbing his data and pilfering him for information. No, the data and danger is just right there when Jin skips ahead, Jin holds his breath as he watches the grainy imagery.

The security camera is an IPC-110 if the shitty quality is anything to judge by. Trust a parking garage to install the shittiest CCTV cameras on the market but still the blurry figures of two of Jin’s packmates is unmistakable as he watches. Jimin’s face terse and afraid, backing up against the wall and exchanging words.

The flash of light is so sudden it makes Jin flinch hard and Jungkook groans, before settling and smacking his lips. Jin hardly notices as he watches you and Jimin get thrown by the blast, tight nuckled watching Jimin tuck his body around you and shouting your name. Pauses the video just to look at Jimin's panic-stricken face. To see him yank you to your feet and put you in the car.

Jungkook makes another soft whine when Jin shifts him, jostling him “One second baby” Jin murmurs, putting his computer to the side. Your jacket is on the side of the nest, delicately folded into the border. Jin detangles it and brings it to his nose.

Fire, burning things, soot. The smell is unmistakable. If the timestamp is to be believed, this is the reason why you and Jimin weren’t at the coffee shop with Jungkook. Jin feels the last little bit of his frustration fade at this.

Oh, Minnie.

It’s no wonder why Jimin was too spooked to speak, why he’s been so laconic tonight. First you and then Jungkook so quick. The stress would have anyone shutting down, this is why Jin's smallest but strongest alpha was so quiet and afraid. Why he’d needed a bit of settling when usually he’s someone Jin can depend on during Jungkook’s seizures. One surprise is hard enough to handle.

Jin shifts his petting from Jungkook’s hair to Jimin’s, combing through his blond strands lovingly.

He rewinds the tape back to the beginning, as far back as it will go, and sets it to 3x speed. The first hour goes by in 5 minutes, The person on camera is in all black, but even in black and white Jin would know the kind of mask they wear. It's red at the top and a stunning grimace at the bottom.

He watches as someone slight and billowy, probably 5’7 in height- no 5’9- figure cuts through the cars, heading for Jimin’s like they know which one to go for. The CCTV footage doesn’t cut out at all. Usually, the family is better in concealing their crimes. Usually, they don’t even leave a hint of evidence.

Usually, they don't send the evidence to Jin.

Jin freezes the frame when the figure turns, with the mask fully facing the camera. It’s a traditional Korean mask, the same one Jin has seen photographed on the rest of the family. He drags up Google, doing a cursory search. The footage is in black and white but the images on file are all red and black.

He goes back to the first murder, those hands, the red paint chipped underneath fingernails and his breathing goes heavy.

He needs to go back to Beomgyu’s dumping site and see if there’s anything red, any other possible reason why he’d have that under his fingernails. Either that or this is all connected, and the same person who killed him is trying to kill you.

Jin's breath goes heavy when he thinks about what could have happened if Jimin hadn't been there.

Jin does not wake you and demand to know what happened, Jin keeps his breathing measured and shallow. Does not let his scent get sour enough to wake the others. Jin fully detangles himself from Jungkook and pauses to lean over you, thumb skimming the Band-Aid on your chin.

No one hurts his pack and gets away with it. No one.

He’ll think about what you know and why Jimin didn't tell him later. Poor thing was probably just too shocked to say anything. You might have convinced him that saying anything would have put Jungkook in distress. Jin's anger is a cool sort, it's not you that he's angry at.

It’s only 5 a.m. but Jin goes and gets a coffee anyways. When he gets back, he shoves it into Namjoon’s hands startling him awake. But one glance at the pack omega says that he means business. Shadowed face unreadable silhouetted against the bright and open hospital door.

“Get the doctor, we’re going home.”

~-~

You wake in the hospital bed, roused by Yoongi's gentle hand on your shoulder, feeling listless and sorer than ever with Hobi’s nose pressed to the nape of your neck and Jungkook at your front. You wonder when that started to feel normal. When Hobi cuddled you stopped feeling so forbidden.

you know that when you take off your clothes you'll find your front bruised from falling, that you'll find your body dinnged. you don't know what you'll say, how you'll excuse the marks away from them but in the meantime, you watch jungkook. get a washcloth from the bathroom and whipe his face for him, standing between his legs.

"do you want water? coffee? can i get you something before your MRI"

namjoon sighs heavy, "pup- he can't-"

jungkook leans into your hands, letting you drag the cloth over his face, it's as much grooming as you ever have, but jungkook just smiles up at you and shakes his head. "when we get home yeah?"

The golden light streams through the horizontal blinds and Jungkook shifts as he gets out of the hospital bed and into a wheelchair for his MRI, and you wait for him with the rest of the pack. Yoongi returns with bagels and coffee for everyone. The caffeine makes you all jittery.

After he's given a clean bill of health, Jungkook leaves the hospital under his own power, on his own two feet because he always needs that certainty. Declining the wheelchair that the staff offers because honestly, he’s fine, he'd run out of here if he didn't think namjoon would drag him right back inside.

You’re guided into Jimin’s car, Yoongi drives. Hobi is in the front, turning to look at you more than he should, asking you questions about what song you want to play. Really, it can go as loud as you want cuz Jungkook's in the other car. He asks too many for your brain to answer accurately. You're too tired too worn out too everything to answer.

But when you get home, there is even more movement too quick for your sleepy brain to comprehend. Jin has to go to work and so does Namjoon; something about a revision surgery that won’t take too much time and can't be rescheduled. He's barely changed and cleaned himself before he's heading out the door again. Definitely a bit too tired, but oh well.

But now at home, the rest of the pack has Jungkook well in hand and ready for a bit more babying. Jungkook will be fine by this evening. Is honestly fine now. Just a little tired of being poked and prodded and just needs to nest and rest.

Jin too seems distracted by something, checking his phone and kissing each of you on the forehead before he goes. You're tempted to whine and ask them to stay, if not for Jungkook then for you but before you can, Hobi grips both of your shoulders and tells Namjoon and Jin that he’s got it, and the moment gets stolen away from you.

“I’ll get your pajamas,” he says after the door thuds closed, while Jungkook says something to Yoongi. Noodle meows and darts around Tae's heels and Jimin carries Jungkook to the couch and gently, gently- sets him down. Your mate is distracted right now (as he should be) but that doesn’t mean Hobi can’t fill the gaps.

He thuds up the stairs, bare feet probably cold. The house is still cold from a night left empty even though Yoongi’s just turned the heat on.

Jimin gets a ding on his phone, standing up the second he’s seen it.

Unknown (9:18): I want to talk to you about a murder.

Unknown (9:18): One you might have a vested interest in.

The picture is grainy, but Jimin knows the faces of the two women like the back of his hand although Hyejin takes a few seconds of racking his brain to place. Jimin feels his blood cool to a simmer and the shaking in his hands stops. His phone dings a few more times, whoever's sending it through must be a fast texter, from a burner phone no doubt.

Unknown (9:19): Especially because of the sensitive nature of this, you understand why I’d want to meet in person.

Unknown (9:19): (See attached address)

Jimin's suspicions are immediately peaked, warning bells going off loud. But before he can do more than read over the messages again more come through.

Unknown (9:20): I’m willing to offer you 10x your normal rate for each kill. Two Mil upfront. And Three more when the hit is carried out. I understand how risky it is for you to even view these texts so here

Jimin watches the next notification from his bank account ding through and holds his breath.

Fuck, that's a lot of Zeros.

Unknown (9:20): As a show of my good faith in you. I'll see you in three hours. If not, enjoy the money.

Jimin holds onto the phone like it’s a lifeline, the black plastic case digging into his fingers. He knows it's stupid, he knows that it's dangerous, and a million other things but-

Jin's words ring in his ears. "I know you'll do whatever you have to do to protect the pack, until your dying breath."

The money means nothing to Jimin, he'd do this killing for free. Out of all the lives he's ever taken, this is the first one that maybe he's ever felt vindicated in. the first murder that he's ever truly wanted to commit.

He's gripping his phone so hard he doesn't move until you make a noise. And when he looks up at you, you have a glass of water in your hands, waiting there, watching him. There is still that fucking scrape on your chin. Jimin looks at it and his mind is made up. All of this karma has come due.

If Jimin's being honest with himself, it's not Moonbyul’s confrontation or her comments about you that had Jimin so bothered.

All that "you belong to me" kind of talk that bullshit alphas with something to prove say, like something out of a manhwa. If he's being honest, the thing that bothered him the most, that made him so very angry was how clearly you didn't want them, and how willing she was to ignore that.

He grins at you, tipping his head back and you think Jimin might look like more of a demon than a man.

“I have to go to work.”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he reaches for Mini and tries to cling but Jimin steps away, sliding back on his still-warm shoes. “I thought you called out already?”

Jimin tugs on his coat, The one with the reinforcement in it, hard panels that flap just a little bit too stiffly. The shoulders that seem just a little too crisp.

"Sorry Koo it's an emergency."

You know just by looking at him that this isn’t for his other job. (You don’t think of bodyguarding as Jimin's real job, not when this one is so much more prescient and dangerous.) You follow him outside, the door closing with that same rusty jingle of the old doorknob.

“It’s not from her.” The words are quiet, stolen. The empty birdfeeder clangs in a sudden wind and you shiver, warm only for a few seconds without a jacket. Jimin’s hand skims your shoulder and he pushes at it, urging you to go back inside.

“It’s not just her who hires me, this isn’t related to her.” He lies effortlessly. Turning and making to walk away, you wrap your arms around him and almost make him fall down the stairs but he catches both of you, swaying at the bottom.

“Pup, you need to let me go,”

“No!” you cling to him stubbornly, “if I let you go something bad is going to happen!”

Jimin is so quiet you think you might not hear him. He stops struggling and trying to twist out of your arms for a second. “You’ve got to, I have to do this, please.” his tone is so calm, so gentle. Jimin is smiling down at you when you pull back to look up at him. He gently but forcefully separates you from him, hands holding yours and prying them apart.

“I’ve got too much to make up for. You have to let me do this.”

You have a bad feeling about this, your instincts that you should listen to. Walking into this so soon after Jungkook’s seizure. Is this punishment for leaving him? Jimin slips from between your hands. Walking to his car, and you feel a lurching in your gut like something terrible is about to happen.

You say nothing, watching him, heart beating quick. but you are powerless to stop him, powerless to keep him from leaving.

You wonder if this is how Yoongi felt, leaving them. Powerless.

“You'll come back? you've got to- you can't-" you can't leave us is what you want to say. Standing on the steps of the house, Jimin by his car.

"I'd never dream of leaving you." Jimin says, swearing it. And all the fight goes out of your sails.

"Be careful Minnie.”

He looks back at you, hair ruffled by the wind. All the snow from the night before has melted but the cold will stay.

“Always am.”

You nod, giving him permission and Jimin gets in his car. You return inside where it’s warmer. And Jimin turns it on, but before he has a chance to pull away from the curb, his phone lights up with another notification.

Unknown (9:27): Make sure to wear your mask.

~-~

The location on his phone is a lot more desolate in person, the scrub brush that’s that's grown in is thick enough to hide his car. Green by the river and poisoned into sticks here. Jimin parks far away among the maze of what must be four-wheeler tracks and walks in. mask on and gun at the ready.

The rusted metal of the industrial park rises out of the soil and the fog. It has to have been abandoned for years given how poor of a condition it's in. There are a few half-fallen-down buildings and one big complicated warehouse flanked on one side by a wide and slow-moving river. The soil smells strongly of gasoline and rust. The soil here is probably soaked through with it. Jimin wonders if would burn and catch fire if a spark was lit.

The traditional mask fits snugly on Jimin’s face, the hole at the mouth just large enough for him to not feel like he’s suffocating. Eye holes are wide enough to see and not block his peripheries.

The doors are cracked and nearly rusted shut with age but Jimin slides through a crack easily. He’s a whole hour early on purpose. This is all by design, every moment of this. Every second is orchestrated like a symphony;

Jimin is the violin, with high and pointed movements, drawing his weapon like a cymbal. The crunch of his boots on the floor the drums, every breath a crooning saxophone. His thoughts flute spiraling up like high delights. All of this builds to one big crescendo.

He doesn’t take out his phone to check the time. The upstairs is mostly unlit but Jimin doesn't use a light, just lets his eyes adjust. He waits, stalking quietly, completely silent in his movements.

Jimin is not nervous about this handoff, mostly, he’s just wondering who it is in the family that's finally betraying her. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t suspect that the conditions of this were a little too perfect. Money and all.

The main atrium of the industrial park is rusted up with age. Old metal shipping containers that used to hold smelting equipment or maybe molten metal long since rusted out even though the chains still hang from the ceiling. A suspended catwalk rings the room on all sides.

Jimin spends a few minutes casing the place, noting the exits, and the obvious places to hide. The old rusty fans at the apex of the roof turn and squeak softly from the wind outside. The whole place smells like chemicals and rust. It's all Jimin can do not to have a coughing fit.

It’s a wonder he doesn’t smell the blood sooner

(Trust me, I speak from experience. if you spend enough time around blood that's not your own, you’ll eventually be able to smell it. Even a drop in an empty room. like a hound the the hunt. You'll smell it.)

Jimin is almost done with logging the entrance and exits when he finds the body.

He rushes to their side, Jimin doesn’t recognize their face when he slides whats left of the traditional mask off their face, it's the same as his. Racking his brain to recognize the face but nothing. the masks is broken into pieces. A bullet between the eyes is a good shot.

Before Jimin can do anything, can decide if this is a setup or just a meet-up gone wrong, He hears footsteps behind him.

~-~

In the wake of Jin, Namjoon, and Jimin leaving, the rest of the pack is a bit forlorn. Jungkook is not so mobile, not so willing to make the trek upstairs. Worried about the stairs and any sudden seizures and all. But there is no shortage of cuddle spots on the ground floor, you've made many a nest in the living room before.

And besides, in such proximity to the kitchen, Jungkook can have all his treats this way.

Lately, it’s started to feel like the pack has several nests, the one upstairs, the nesting pod, and the one on the old grey couch when you shove all the pieces together. Yoongi indulges jungkook in half a bar of dark chocolate while you get some nesting materials. Blankets and your wet cheeks catching the dimmed lights.

You’re a little pouty and a lot quiet, and the others take note of it. Skimming comforting hands up and down your shoulders, always touching you like they’re making sure you’re there. They don't ask why you're upset at Jimin leaving. They don't have to wonder. you snap the blanket as you fluff it huffing.

Jungkook finds your angry nestmaking cute. he pulls you down on top of him nipping at your throat when you fuss a little too long. Testing out Jin's method of settling on you.

It’s surprising even to you when the action sparks tears in your eyes, the opposite he was hoping for. You rub at your wet eyes with a clenched fist stubbornly. It’s not even noon yet and you’re already crying. You're so exhausted by everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours, so tired. You can't be blamed for getting a little teary-eyed.

Tae reappears, freshly showered. Her shoulder-length hair already starting to dry. tilting your face up to her's and says "Oh my little dove-

She piles into the nest and upstairs you hear Hobi moving around. tae stradles jungkook's thighs and shifts the two of you, lying you all flat,

"Don’t worry about Minnie, he’s always had something to prove.” You rub at your tears stubbornly, sniffling and nodding. Jungkook threads his fingers through the back of your hair, a little indelicately. But he loves without boundaries, like a butterfly flapping its wings for the first time.

“But why-” your words are quiet but broken, “why does he always feel so-"

“Guilty?” Tae finishes for you, looking out the window in the direction that Jimin disappeared. Humming as she strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt.

Hobi appears at the bottom of the stairs smiling. "Are we talking about Jimin's guilt complex again?"

Your mate groans and finishes putting together a little snack board. "I swear we've probably had this discussion like- fucking 20 times?" Yoongi's not wrong.

You only get more teared-eyed, crying a little bratty, thumping weakly against jungkook's chest, he grabs your thigh and pulls you snug across his lap. "But why! Why does he feel like everything is his fault?"

Tae hides her sad smile behind a hand, and you're less upset looking at it. Calmed in a second, because they have talked about this you realize, everyone in the pack is well aware.

“I guess he feels guilty because," Tae sighs, "because he was so loved.” Tae's fingers dance along Jungkook's thigh, and you're all quiet. everyone is quiet when they hear tae talk about jimin. it's a little like listening to someone describe what it feels like listening to your favorite song for the first time, what it's like to taste your favorite food, the feeling of a first kiss.

Hobi comes close to tae, sets down a shirt and a pair of pants. "would you get them into this while i shower?" the curtains are drawn and hobi goes upstairs and Tae undresses you while she speaks. You're a doll, teary eyed and willing as she and Jungkook strip you and put you in clean clothes. You didn't realize how much you needed to not smell like hospital until it's done.

"The first love you lose always hurts you the most, whether that's romantic love or parental love doesn't really matters. Each person metabolizes it differently. Truthfully, I believe that Jimin lost love the first time and promised himself- never again."

Tae talks, playing with Jungkook’s hair. He pouts “he's never gonna lose us.” Tae hums, agreeing. But you can see in her eyes the sadness there. Wounds that might never heal and wanting that might never fade.

Yoongi sits down beside you and together, the three of you undress and dress Jungkook. He could probably do it himself just like you could, but he's a willing puppet, happy when Tae tickles his tummy and slides his shirt over his head.

A minute later, Hobi's back, wet head that drips onto your cheek when he leans over Jungkook's curled form to grab one of the grapes on the snack board that Yoongi made. And Tae stares off into space, thinking of Jimin, how they met and how they feel in love, everything between then and now.

Tae smiles just thinking of him. "i know that pup, he just- he can't let himself believe it no matter how much he wants too. It was really hard on him, how our parents treated us, Jimin has guilt built into him because they made him that way."

It's too simple of an explanation for what they went through. What does it mean to love a parent that hates you? Or at least to have a parent that does not strive to understand you. How many times did the words linger on Tae’s lips? Standing in the doorway wearing a little boy jersey and little boy clothes, listening to his mother talk about the things on the news.

Wondering, Mom, would you give up God for me?

Tae rests her cheek on her hand. Her nail polish has gotten all chipped, maybe she picked at it nervously while you were at the hospital. She has a habit of picking at it when she needs something for her hands to do.

“If Jimin had a religion- it would be love. And every time he feels even a little bit like he's not loving us the way he should, he beats himself up for it and guilts himself into loving harder, loving better. He considers a lack of love the greatest crime. So yeah, feeling guilty is par for the course."

Jungkook groans, tipping his head back against the sofa, “I’ve told him, I’ve told him a million times-“

“Doesn’t matter” Hobi interrupts, “he still hates it when he’s not there when you have a seizure. He's upset with himself, that's why he left. Giving him more love when he feels like he doesn't deserve it is like his worst nightmare.”

You think of the explosion. Of Jimin pining your body and putting himself between you and the blast. Maybe with Jimin it's so instinctual it's not even a conscious decision. You wonder if it ever gets easy, to make the decision to sacrifice yourself for the people you love. Does that make Mimin feel like he deserves them more? the sacrifice?

You don’t know if it would be as innate with you, You might have to think it through for a few seconds.

You don't like that. You don't like realizing that you'd need to think through it however briefly. You fear a world in which you don’t love him as much as he loves you, in which any of this isn’t reciprocal.

(But then again, most recipes have twice as much sugar as butter.)

You melt against Hobi’s side. “He shouldn’t,” you say, feeling useless, a little quieter, a little bit more upset. “He shouldn’t feel guilty, he loves us enough!” Tae’s hand rests on your ankle, and her laugh strikes high and sad.

Outside a mourning dove coos, a lonely soft sound.

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to love Jimin more than he loves me for my whole life. He wants to win the 'I love you more' debate every time.”

~-~

The Industrial Park is different than Jin remembers.

It rises a little more jagged against the surrounding area of 3-meter-high brush that disguises a network of other dilapidated sheds and half flooded buildings. Jin recites what he knows about this place; the facts.

An iron processing plant, decimated by the flood of a nearby river 2 dozen years ago and bought through a shell corporation. Vacant land with so many entrances and exits. A veritable hotbed and the perfect body dumping site. construction on a housing development delayed on account of how expensive the environmental clean up.

He scans the building for red paint.

He can be forgiven for not seeing Jimin’s car, parked on the fringes. The opposite side from where Jin came in because Jin had to stop at the office first. Jin can be forgiven for having his blinders on, so focused with single-minded intent that he misses some of the signs. The smell of gasoline drowns out Jimin's vanilla scent.

Jin sees the fresh footprints in the dirt and draws his weapon.

That's the whole reason why it took him so long to get here, (why Jimin got here first even though he left second) He couldn't just go into an unknown setting alone unarmed, he'd had to stop back at the office to grab his vest and his FBI-issued firearm, a standard-issue Glock 17. Forghein and unwelcomed in his hands.

Even Jin will admit that he’s not the best marksman, (Jin had barely passed his exam a few years back, and continually has to study and practice for his re-certification every 6 months.) Jin does not prefer to be armed. If he wasn’t alone, if he didn’t go by himself for this, He might not have brought his weapon at all.

Jin enters through the front door; the old hanger doors are already open. Feet crunching on the gravel. Jin can feel his heartbeat in his fingers, how hard he’s holding the gun, he’s never had to discharge it during a field excursion before. How unbecoming of a director, how green of him. He lacks this experience.

The tip of the weapon shakes because he's holding it so hard. Jin feels like he can feel the breath of unseen eyes on the back of his neck. Someone is here, he knows it.

Jin walks into the atrium, gun at the ready, turning the corner when he sees them.

One masked man is bending over another a body, already strewn across the floor and dead. the man's mask litters the floor in red shards. Jin sees the gun in the living man's hands, gloved, Jin snaps his hand up and aims before he can really take in the details of the scene.

“Stop! FBI! Put your hands where I can see them!”

The man at the other end of the room tilts his head and does not speak, red mask flashing in the half-light. There is a single breath where the man does not move, just looks at Jin with that tilted face. silent. But then he takes off, running like his life depends on it. bolting down a corridor and out of range of Jin’s accuracy on the best of days.

Jin fires a shot and misses. It hits the metal wall with a loud clink and a bright spark, ricocheting off into space.

Jin curses and takes off after the killer, skidding in the dust and bashing into the wall, gun banning against the door with a loud metallic clang as he slides through it, running from hall to hall trying to get a good shot.

Every time Jin crests a turn and tries to aim, the man rounds another, darting through the maze of hallways and shipping containers.

Jin has longer legs and is taller and faster than his target. He catches up to them by the stairs, the man turns and hesitates again. If Jin were less adrenaline high he might already realize they've tucked their gun away.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

The criminal bolts up the stairs and Jin goes too. Up and up and up onto the catwalk. Feet clangs against the metal, the suspended walkway sways under the force of their steps, The chains clanking.

And then, at the very end, he stops.

Jimin turns, casting one glance back at him. And hesitates, the mask catches the light again. And Jimin reaches up, about to take it off. The words, "Stop baby it's me." Already hovering on the edge of his lips.

He never gets the chance to say them. Jin’s finger finds the trigger, and the gun fires in a gorgeous explosion of gunpowder and force. Fire made small, and love made lethal.

Jimin hits the wall from the force of the bullet, hitting the latch at the back of his head.

The mask falls off.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

Everybody lives nobody dies.

Let me repeat that again NOBODY DIES, no one, not even Jimin. He’s just gonna be a little bloody from this, that’s all, before you get angry and yell at me.

I could have made this more convoluted, but I decided not too because…I simply did not want to stage a chapter between this one and the next one.

Jimin’s autistic meltdowns look a whole lot like mine do, I know they’re not typically what other people associate with meltdowns. But going nonverbal and stimming with your body (pacing) is very on par with me.

I felt like we needed to see a little bit of the jinmin dynamic before you know…Jin shoots him, just for funsies. And to talk about how Jimin loves.

A lot of people expressed a desire for Jimin to have some sort of concenquence for the way he treated Tae when she came out, just the part where he needed space, and for him not helping the m/c when he could have. I think this is his penance for that, getting shot by Jin, getting betrayed- however unintentionally- by someone he loves is the justice for those moments. I’ve always been stalwart on the fact that the bily charecters act sort of terribly sometimes because real people act terribly too, they’re dynamic in the way that they love and handle their actions.

On the subject of like- who framed what and explaining the events of the chapter, moonbyul and Hyejin are orchestrating everything. They pay Jimin MOSTLY because they know how suspicious it is and are trying to do anything they can to expose Jin to him. The scene in the industrial park goes exactly the way they wanted it too…accept that Jimin will live. They didn’t count on Jin being a poor shot lol

They are trying not only to manipulate the m/c away from the pack, but destabilize them to try and make the m/c come to them. Having one packmate kill another is definitely they way they wanted to do this. They’d 1000% just kill everyone if they thought that would give them the m/c but they’re attempting to manipulate her into coming to them rather than just abducting her point blank.

Funnily enough this is one cannon-cannon event of bily like, Jin was always going to shoot Jimin. If you go back and forth in other chapters you can see that Jin is almost constantly touching Jimin’s shoulder. It’s up to you if you think that Jin’s bullet got close enough to Jimin’s heart to kill him or if by some luck he survived

That’s a lie I can’t lie to you guys he’s 1000% going to live through this I can’t keep secrets from you guys, no one dies in this story even if it seems like they might at times we only have one more almost death to get through.

I feel like this chapter had less flowery language than my usual ones in part because it’s got a bit from Jin’s pov and also because everyone is so scared and frozen through the whole thing.

I cannot even begin to tell you how much less stressful the next chapter of bily is than my life, like i would rather GET SHOT AGAIN then be where i currently am, with the same level of anxiety that i have.

i wish i had time to edit this more but alas! its only 2 hours until i'll post this and i'm just finishing it up.

💜💜💜

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 10

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

The dinner went well, you managed to steer clear of Jimin. He seemed to do the same and avoid you. With each course of food that was served, you took time to savour the flavours of each bite. It was amazing, unlike any other type of food you have had before.

“Is it good?” Jin asked.

“Very good. I’ve been loving every dish.” You confessed shyly, making them laugh. Yoongi poured the red wine and handed out the glasses. With 8 glasses to pour, the bottle was finished quickly.

“Have a bite of that then take a sip.” Namjoon advised. You nodded and did as he instructed you. They looked at you expectantly.

“Wow. The flavour has changed entirely.” Your eyes widened in surprise. The tang of the wine was gone, replaced with an almost buttery taste and feel on your tongue.

“Do you drink often?” Taehyung asked.

“No. My mum never really drank much. I guess she was just too busy to drink. But when I was older and able to drink, we did enjoy an occasional beer or soju with our food. That’s about it.” You explained with a shrug.

“Your steak, Miss.” The waiter placed the plate in front of you, arranging the steak knife beside the plate. You looked at the piece of meat in front of you, still steaming from how hot it was. You waited for the other wait staff to put the other dishes down in front of the 7. When they picked up their cutlery, you followed suit to dig in.

They had a mix of meats, some opting for beef and the others opting for pork. But all were high end meats and cuts that were not typically found in other restaurants.

“I’ve never had dry aged meat before. But I’ve heard how good it is.” You told them as you cut a small piece of your steak.

“It condenses the beef flavour with a little bit of funk. I would say it is an acquired taste. Like Jin hyung and Hoseok don’t like it.” Yoongi said. He seemed the most well-versed with food knowledge.

“Really, the beef flavour is more intense. But melts nicely.” You noted as you took your first bite. You had not expected yourself to enjoy it so much.

“Hanwoo has a lot of marbling, which can be heavy. Having it with wine cuts it but I still prefer a leaner cut like filet mignon.” Jin explained.

“Are you guys secretly chefs? Or is this something you learn in school.” You chuckled.

“Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung are interested in food and cooking. For the rest of us... after eating at places like this, you kind of figure out what your preferences are so you know what to order in the future.” Hoseok said, sipping his wine. You guessed it was just a difference in environment.

“Jungkook ah, how are you going to finish that whole porterhouse?” You heard Jin laugh. You craned your neck slightly to see the huge steak that covered Jungkook’s entire plate.

“You know I need the protein, hyung.” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Watching you eat makes me feel full.” Yoongi chuckled, leaning his head on his hand. His words reminded you of what your mother used to say to you.

After the steak course, it was the carbohydrate course. With each course, you were feeling more and more full. Until finally, it was time to order the dessert. Now, you didn’t understand the dessert menu.

“What do you recommend for dessert?” You asked.

“Those who are not a fan of sweet things go for the cheese plate and a side of port wine. Their basque cheesecake is good but their Spanish torrija is good. It’s like a spanish style french toast with smoked ice cream.” Namjoon said.

“I’ll try that. The torrija. I love french toast.” You smiled. When the waiters came to clear the plates, the manager took the orders for dessert.

“The torrija for me.” You ordered.

“Excellent choice, miss.” The manager bowed his head, taking the small dessert menu from you before going around to take the order from the rest at the table.

“Just my usual whiskey.” Yoongi handed the menu back to the manager. Namjoon raised his hand as a sign to get him the same as well.

“Grappa for me. From the reserva.” Taehyung said. The manager bowed and left the private room. You were curious about what Yoongi and Namjoon’s ‘usual whiskey’ was. Until the manager came back with a tray. There was a big glass carafe with whiskey at the bottom and some sort of equipment with a rubber tubing attached.

“Your usual whiskey.” The manager lit the equipment and smoke began to emit. You watched intently at what he was doing. He used the rubber tubing to direct the smoke into the carafe with whiskey.

“That’s a smoke gun. It would be used to make the smoked ice cream in your dessert. It infuses a smokey aroma to food and liquids.” Jin whispered.

“Oh. I’ve never seen that before.” You were in awe at how the smoke sat on top of the golden liquid.

“Mr Kim, Mr Min.” The manager poured the smoke-infused whiskey into crystal glasses and handed them to Namjoon and Yoongi. They lifted it up, swirling it to take a sniff.

“Is it... wood in there?”

“Wood chips and dried thyme, the herb. It may be strong to drink but take a whiff.” Namjoon held the glass out to you. You cautiously leaned in to take a smell. It had a good smell to it, cutting the sharpness of the whiskey.

When your dessert came, you so badly wanted to take a photo. It was plated so beautifully that you couldn’t bare to crack into it to eat it. But you didn’t want to seem like even more of an amateur than you already were so you refrained from taking your phone out to snap a picture and just ate.

“The food here has been very good. Unlike anything I’ve had before. Thank you for the experience.” You said to them.

“You’re welcome. Glad you enjoyed it.” Namjoon smiled.

“Jimin? You’re done?” Hoseok noticed that the male had stood up, hands tucked into his pockets and was headed for the exit. He turned around and nodded his head.

“I’m going to the tables.” He said. You tilted your head, unsure of what he meant by the tables. Did he mean the other diners outside?

“There’s an exclusive casino here.” Taehyung explained.

“Jin hyung? You coming?” Jimin asked, ignoring you and looking at the oldest. Jin shared a look with Namjoon before nodding his head. He wiped his mouth and stood up.

“I’ll see you soon, (y/n).” Jin smiled at you. You nodded your head with a small wave before Jin took off with Jimin.

“Do you play cards?”

“No. I’ve never played before or never needed to play.” You said. There was never a need for you to learn how to play any sort of card game. Your mother never brought you or introduced you to the casino, and you never expressed interest in going to a casino. Your lives were so busy, you didn’t have time to go out and gamble.

“Most of us don’t really play, anyway. Only Jimin, Taehyung and Jin hyung.” Yoongi said. Namjoon paid for the meal and you were escorted out to the vans that you all came in.

“What about Jin and Jimin sshi?” You asked.

“They’re gonna be here for a while. They’ll find their own way back.” Jungkook informed. That was the first time he spoke to you that evening.

“O-Okay.” You were just shocked that he was even talking to you.

“We’ll drop you home first.” Yoongi said. You nodded. Before splitting up into their respective vans, you turned to the rest and bowed gratefully, expressing your thanks for them bringing you out for such an exquisite dinner.

“Anytime, (y/n). We’ll go somewhere else next time.” Taehyung grinned widely, patting your shoulder.

“I look forward to it.” You gave a small smile. Taehyung took Jimin’s seat, riding the van with Jungkook while Hoseok took Jin’s seat to ride with Yoongi. That left you to ride with Namjoon.

“Send the car for Jimin and Jin hyung when they’re done.” You heard Hoseok tell the doorman, who nodded and bowed.

“Bye. See you soon.” The others waved to you through the window as your van drove off first. You let out a soft sigh, head leaning back against the head rest. You hadn’t noticed the look of amusement Namjoon was giving you, watching your mannerisms.

“Stressed?”

“N-No.” You quickly denied with a shake of your head, clearing your throat.

“How was it? And I’m not talking about just the food.” Namjoon asked with a laugh at the end.

“It was nice. I’ve never experienced that sort of dining setting before and I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about food and fine dining etiquette. But I hope me being there didn’t make things awkward for everyone.” You sighed.

“Don’t worry about that, (y/n). We want to make sure you’re comfortable around us. And I spoke with Jimin, he won’t incite anymore fights but it will take some time for him to open up.” Namjoon assured.

“Ah, I was hoping he didn’t get in trouble because of me. He is entitled to his feelings after all.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“He’s old enough that I don’t scold him like a parent. We all have to do things we may not like, it’s compromise. The two of you can just avoid one another until you’re comfortable to sit down and talk. The rest are fine. Jungkook is just... introverted. Once he’s used to you being around, he’ll be more open with his true self.” Namjoon said.

“Yeah, I get the feeling he doesn’t really like me around.” You said sheepishly.

“He feels bad that Jimin is on his own while the rest of us are ‘on the other side’. But of course, that’s not true. There are no sides. He just wants peace as the youngest of us.” He explained.

“You know a lot about them.”

“I have to. It’s my duty as the one with the leadership role of the family now that your father has passed away.” Namjoon shrugged.

“If you don’t mind me asking... Is it hard? Knowing so many people depend on you while you, yourself, are navigating through life? All this is just suddenly your responsibility.” You asked.

“Hmm. While I appreciate the leadership authority everyone gives me, it is definitely not smooth sailing. But I’m glad my brothers help me with that responsibility. It’s not like they dump everything on me and expect me to fix their messes all the time.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I see. You’re a good big brother.” You complimented. You wished you had someone to rely on.

“I was the first person your father brought into the company. Everyone else came after me so I guess I’m used to watching over everyone and showing them the ropes.”

“Can’t say I know what that feels like. I’ve always been on my own. Or rather, it’s always been my mum and myself. Never had to think about siblings or taking care of anyone other than myself.” You confessed.

“It must be hard having to do everything on your own.” Namjoon smiled softly. You let out another sigh.

“There’s independence in it. But there was never anyone to count on. If I want something done, I have to do it myself. There’s no one to help or do it for me.” You said.

“I understand.” Namjoon empathised.

“I guess that’s why I find it hard to rely on others or trust others.” You rubbed your arm.

“Take your time. You don’t have to trust us 100%. Do it at your own pace. But just know you can rely on us to be here. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” He said. You felt tears brim in your eyes but blinked them away, not wanting to cry in front of him. You didn’t say anything more, looking everywhere else except directly at Namjoon.

“We’re here.” The driver came out to open the door for you. You hesitated but decided to go for it, reaching over to wrap your arms around Namjoon. Under your hold, you felt him stiffen.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“You’re welcome.” He replied, wrapping an arm around you. When you pulled away, he handed over your bag of clothes.

“Goodnight, (y/n).” Namjoon wished.

“Goodnight, Namjoon...” You wished him back and turned to walk towards your house. The driver stood there and waited for you to enter the house before closing the van door to drive Namjoon back home.

“Are you alright, young master Namjoon?” The driver asked when he noticed the forlorn look on Namjoon’s face.

“Yes. Just have a lot to think about.” Namjoon replied. When the driver dropped him off back home, the living room was empty. He heard the faint sound of Yoongi’s piano coming from his room. Taehyung shuffled down the stairs with his silk robe over his long pajamas.

“You’re home...” He yawned.

“Hmm.” Namjoon nodded, going to the bar to pour himself a drink. He downed it all in one go before pouring more to refill his glass.

“Hoseok hyung had to go out. He said there was a security breach at one of the big warehouses so he went to make sure nothing is missing. Jungkook followed him in case he needed back up.” Taehyung informed.

“Good. They can report it in tomorrow’s meeting.” Namjoon replied.

Taehyung leaned his arms on the bannister of the stairs as he watched Namjoon, tilting his head while studying the older’s posture. He looked down at the tarot card in his hand. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to speak to Namjoon about it.

“(y/n)’s okay?” Taehyung asked vaguely. He didn’t want to ask Namjoon directly what happened, knowing the leader won’t let him into his thoughts.

“Yes. We talked but things are well.” Namjoon replied. Taehyung hummed in reply, deciding to just give up.

“Don’t drown your sorrows, Namjoon hyung. The hangovers are not worth it.” Taehyung said, a slight teasing tone evident in his words, hiding his previous intentions of going to see the leader.

“There are no sorrows to drown, Taehyung ah.” Namjoon chuckled.

His head was filled with the conversation he had with you. How different your lives were. You grew up on your own, being taught to fight for yourself to survive while the 7 were taught to fight for each other and survive as a whole.

Jimin hummed as he stepped out of the casino, removing the cigarette from his lips and dropping it onto the gravel, crushing it under his boot. Patrons entering the casino fawned over his good looks.

“Ah...” Jin stretched his arms over his head with a yawn, walking out to stand beside Jimin. He tucked his cold hands back into the pockets of his pants.

“The car’s coming.” Jimin said, checking his phone. He had called the driver 15 minutes ago.

“Ugh, I need to sleep. But we played good tonight.” Jin declared, patting Jimin on the back. They had all their winnings from the night in their account so they didn’t need to worry about handling physical cash. Jimin looked at the words written on the small card the general manager had slipped into his pocket before he left.

“What’s that?” Jin asked.

“It’s the details for the next high stakes game. That’s why I wanted to play tonight. Win at the odd number tables and when you reach the end, you get the invite.” Jimin explained.

“Aren’t you always invited anyway?” Jin rolled his eyes. Jimin was known above ground and underground for his skills, the organisers would always send him a personal invitation to any of the high stake poker games.

“But it’s interesting to see how a normal would get in.” Jimin smirked. The driver came and opened the door for them to climb in.

“If there’s no reason for me to go, I won’t play.” Jimin said.

“The president contacting Taehyung will stir things for sure. He’s worried about the hit list on the other politicians. The one you retrieved. Can’t let his city go into war.” Jin noted.

“We’re just doing his dirty work for him then. Or rather, being the peacemaker.” Jimin rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“That or we have the Korean military storming our place.” Jin laughed.

“We can always escape... We have the resources to...” Jimin said bitterly. But he knew that they wouldn’t just up and leave because of their late boss’ legacy. They wouldn’t let the company die and they wouldn’t want to leave you alone to deal with possible repercussions of their crimes.

“We make them happy, they leave us alone to run our business. That’s why Namjoon let their military test at our lab. They won’t shut us down and it grants us access into their military projects.” Jin revealed.

“So that’s why he agreed to that.” Jimin finally understood the intention behind Namjoon’s actions.

“Our backing is strong. Everyone will be fighting for our help anyway so might as well use that to our advantage.” Jin shrugged.

Jimin stared out the window. He was glad throughout the night alone with him, Jin didn’t bring you up or ask him why he was so hostile towards you. After chatting with Namjoon, Jimin agreed it was best if he just avoided you as much as possible.

You put all your clothes in the washing machine to do laundry. You opted to just walk around in an old, oversized shirt and underwear. While the washing machine was running, you sat with your computer in the kitchen.

‘How to play poker?’

“Ah, this is too difficult.” You looked at how to play ‘Texas Hold’em’, which is the most played variant of poker.

You thought back to the conversation at the start of the dinner. Maybe they had just helped you choose your major. You weren’t choosing it for them but at least you now had a proper reason to choose linguistics.

~~

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi

Main masterlist

💜💜💜

domestic daydreams:

[at christmas]

pairing: influencer jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship || non-idol au ||

summary: jungkook worries his life online bleeds too much into your relationship, but you can’t be more than happy to show everyone how much he loves you

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: christmas!!!, fluff, kissing (ew), it’s sickening how in love they are, slightly suggestive in the beginning

notes: part of the domestic daydreams au, however can be read as a stand-alone :D is this me just waffling? that’s for you to decide !! it’s made a lot of sense in my head but i can’t tell if this is just words or actually a story

where you can find my other work!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you feel jungkook’s thumb slip past the waistband of your panties, brushing over the delicate skin of your hip as his head slips onto your pillow.

you don’t bother moving, letting him twist your body until your back is pressed to his chest, bodies curled; entangled as he presses a thigh between your legs.

it’s warm. soft cocoon of the duvet wrapped around your body, jungkook’s gentle breathing tickling the back of your neck, goosebumps prickling down your back and up your arms.

it isn’t until he tugs you impossibly closer to his body does the sliver of warm morning light shine onto your eyes through the small crack in the curtains.

you groan a little, pressing your face into the pillow. somewhere in the back of your mind knowing you weren’t getting back to sleep.

you feel jungkook’s lips curl against your skin, “my love” he murmurs now that he knows you’re awake.

you hum, sinking that little bit further into his body.

“we need to get up” he whispers, lips pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, body shifting so he can brush a delicate kiss to your cheek.

his words catch your attention, eye peeking open to look up at him as he tugs you onto your back, arms caged around your head. there’s a lazy, sleepy smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“don’t look at me like that” he bends down, chest pressed against yours, though careful to keep his body weight off you.

“i’m comfortable” you murmur, eyes slipping back shut.

his fingers brush against your cheek, eyes flickering to capture every little detail of your existence as he holds you, accounting for every fibre of his body pressed against yours. how warm your bare skin is, cotton panties veiling a sacred piece of your being, soft against his thigh. how your lashes brush against supple cheeks, pretty pretty pretty. ever so pretty and lovely and the reason for his existence.

“but i have a surprise” his lips brush against your cheek, fingers curling to hold the back of your neck.

“it’s early” you argue.

“it’s almost noon” he laughs, face pressed into the arch of your neck and shoulder.

your eyes squeeze shut, arms slipping around his body “it’s the weekend”

“close. it’s friday”

you sigh, “m’ sleepy”

“my poor baby” he coos, hands slipping down your body until they’re hooked under your arms, tugging you to sit up between his legs.

you press your forehead against his shoulder, “you said surprise”

“i did” he hums, “what about it?”

“what is it?”

his hand runs down the length of your back, ever the tease as this hands slip over your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your boobs.

“that would ruin the surprise” jungkook looks down at you.

“i’d rather it be ruined than sit here anxiously for hours while we get ready” you glance up at him through your lashes.

a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “i should have known you’d say that” he tugs you closer to him by the back of your neck, quick to press a kiss to your lips, “in that case… i was thinking of getting a real tree this year”

i pause for a moment, “huh?”

you pull away from him a little as he opens his mouth, “what about the one in the spare room?” you ask.

he shrugs, “last year you said you wanted a real tree one day”

“one day” you shake your head, “aren’t they expensive?”

“i can afford it now, baby. let me treat you”

you swallow, “but…”

“no buts. the place closes at three and we still need to eat”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you lock the door to the apartment, jungkook having gone ahead to warm up the car for you.

you slip into the passenger seat, eyes instantly catching onto the empty phone holder on the front ledge of the car.

“are you not filming?” you turn to him, eyebrows pinched.

“no?” he shakes his head, eyes wide, “this is time for us, i don’t want to ruin it because i’m filming”

you blink over at him, “oh”

he tilts his head in the way jungkook does, eyes veiled with curiosity.

“why, do you want me to?”

you shake your head, “i just thought it would be something your viewers would like”

his eyes soften, hand slipping across the console, fingers dipping into the meat of your thigh.

“i get so scared” he admits, watching now as you’re the one with the curious filled eyes.

“why?” you shake your head.

“because i don’t want every single moment we spend together looked over simply because i’m filming. i don’t want you to think i don’t care, that im not thinking of the time we spend together because i have my phone filming it all”

a hint of a smile curls onto your lips.

“you’re surprisingly good at multitasking” you tell him, “when we first started dating…” you say, and he nods, “i really did worry you weren’t experiencing everything with me”

“i never—“ he shakes his head.

“baby, i know” you placate his worries, “you gush about how much you love what we do every night” your hand slips over his still on your thigh, “and when i go back and watch the videos you post, you never take notice of the camera, you look at me too much”

“that’s because you’re so pretty” his fingers tighten between your own.

“people talk about it in the comments” you lean your head against the headrest.

“you read the comments?” he whines, pout tempting to tug at his bottom lip. because he’d told you time and time again not to— too scared you’d stumble across something mean and he couldn’t bare the idea of someone shit talking you.

your eyebrows narrow in obvious intent, “obviously. i’m nosy and i want to know what people are saying about you… i just so happen to stumble across comments about me too”

“and you’re not uncomfortable?” he worries, trying to scoot that little bit closer to you from his seat.

you shake your head, “no”

“promise?”

a quirk of a smile threatens the corners of your lips, “if anything i like it…” you start, watching the tension in his shoulders loosen, “reading about how much everyone knows you love me”

a huff of a laugh bubbles up jungkook’s throat, “ah so that’s it?”

there’s a hint of amusement in his tone, though he can’t blame you. not when he sees comments of jealous men rattling about videos of him with you. not when he sees the same, so many comments about how you look at him like he held the world in the palm of his hands, how it looks like he’d plucked a million stars, putting them in a jar for you to admire.

“makes me feel nice” you admit.

his fingers slip from between your own, fumbling around the pockets of his coat as he pulls out his phone. he slots it onto the little phone holder, swiping to the camera.

“i won’t film all day, just little clips i can edit together. then everyone can see what we did, yeah? i want today to be special, and i know you don’t mind… but for the sake of my own sanity” he tells you, leaning over the console. his hand falls to the back of your neck, tugging you forward, closing the distance between the both of you.

the kiss is soft, the type that means ‘i love you’ without having to really say it. the type of kiss that has your heart fluttering all funny in your chest behind the restraint of your rib cage. where your cheeks go all warm and your insides feel all gooey and nice, where 2 stars align perfectly in that moment and you feel utterly complete like this is where you’re meant to be.

your fingers itch to hold onto jungkook as he pulls away, warm breath fanning over spit soaked lips he he stays there for a moment.

“we’ll be late” you remind him, eyes flickering to the clock.

he hums, not before leaving over and pressing another delicate kiss to your cheek.

he’s quick with introducing what the both of you are doing once he presses the start of the video, hand still gentle over your thigh as he glances over at you every now and then. because even with the sight of your face through the video on his phone, it would be a wasted opportunity to not look at you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you tug at the sleeve of jungkook’s jacket as you cross the road to the tree farm.

“hmm?” he looks down at you, eyebrows raised in question.

you point to a parking lot, shops lining the length of the road.

“can we go in there?” you look up at him, eyes wide with wonder, the sort of look that has jungkook’s resolve melting into a puddle and seeping from every pore of his body until he’s giving in.

he taps on the screen of his phone, before looking back at you.

“if we’re quick” he murmurs, tucking your connected hands in his pocket to keep them warm.

you beam up at him, tugging him across the road to one of the home stores, christmas decorations lining the windows.

“take a video of this for your followers” you tell him, pointing to a a little candy cane, utter joy dancing across your face when you press on his hand and it starts dancing.

you bounce on your feet as jungkook pulls his phone out, barely paying attention to what he was filming, not when his eyes were on you, so much joy radiating from a fragile human body. some days he wonders if the videos are more for yourself than who follows him.

a collection of moments you want to keep forever posted on his social media for you to watch whenever you please. though he doesn’t mind, not when he can go back, and watch the small glimpses of joy when he pans the camera over to you, your happiness locked in that moment of time forever.

he’s not sure how you ended up with three new sets of baubles, or why you suddenly decided you wanted an angel instead of a star on top of the tree, but that doesn’t stop him from slinking back to the front of the store to grab a basket for you. or him following you around every isle as your hands skim over everything that looked soft, or your bright eyes when you’d show him all the things you liked the look of.

“if we’re getting a real tree this year, should we put the fake one in our room instead?” you ask him, crouched down on the floor as you look through all the reefs.

“what about the small light up one we have?”

you hum, “you can use it in your background for your streams…?” you suggest, “do you need lights too? you can use the ones in our bedroom if you need to”

“sure” he chirps.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“it’s big” you stand there with your hands on your hips, “it looked smaller at the shop”

the both of you stand there looking down at the tree.

“what if it touches the ceiling” he murmurs, wondering if he’d made a mistake or not.

the camera had been rolling for over ten minutes as the both of you stand there, wondering how you were going to tackle the tree.

“it should be okay” you peer up at the ceiling, head tilting a little, “maybe we won’t need the angel then”

“but she’s so pretty” he turns to you, “right, let’s do this then”

you watch him struggle a little lifting it, eyes flitting to the little pine needles falling onto the carpet.

“just enough space for the angel, good choice baby” he grins at you.

you stand there looking at the tree, “it’s so prefect, thank you” you whisper, arm linking with his, “this is literally the best christmas ever”

“we haven’t even decorated it yet” he laughs, arms slipping over your shoulders.

“still” you tell him, “it’s more than i could ever ask for”

“merry christmas, jungkook” you look up at him, that warm fluffy sort of love blanketing your soul.

“merry christmas” he murmurs, head tilting down.

there’s nothing rushed about the kiss. time, the outside world, everything beyond the both of you stopping within your apartment as you share the raw intimacy of pure love with only the camera as your witness. another precious little moment captured and held forever, one that will never make the cut of the video. something for jungkook to hold onto forever, a secret for him.

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.60)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Life changes come in many many forms; courting gifts, leaving jobs, and...Murder

Tags: Slow burn getting warmer, Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Trans! Tae, Transphobia, gender thoughts, workplace discrimination, flashbacks, murder, the word 'r*pe' is used to describe what Geumjae did to her but there are no graphic depictions of it, allusions to physical abuse, graphic violence, there is a brief moment where someone not in the pack touches the m/c's ass without her consent, blood, briefly implied suicidal actions- but it's nothing like what you haven't seen before.

W/c: 12.6k

A/n: i'll be attending my cousin's wedding at the time this is posted so! give me lots of love when you read it cuz i'm so nervous~ i've never been around so many fancy people before <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

You dab at the skin under your eyes carefully. You know they must look red and puffy. Tae’s careful instruction to treat your skin well as all good baby pups should has somehow stuck.

Even here. Even now.

“Do people like always loose it with you? Like when they walk in, do they all cry?”

Your therapist (yes, your therapist) across the narrow room is the opposite of threatening; soft face, pulled back hair, neutral clothing that might just as well be out of a country living catalog.

You don’t know where Jin found her, what little medical booklet he perused like a take-out menu, or how much her services cost per hour. Those kinds of details were not for delicate little pups like yourself to worry over in his opinion.

Most of the time, you're glad not to have to worry about things like this. But right now you're chomping at the bit. Weighting your odds. The other unknowns hover before you. One sticks out. One you're most concerned about.

Is she trustworthy?

Nothing about Dr. Rima seems outwardly threatening, yet you curl in on yourself. She smiles, scrawling something on the top of her notepad before she answers, and something taught in you ticks tighter.

“You’re correct in assuming that most people I meet cry in the first few minutes when they meet me, but you are the first person to cry on my threshold. Most of the time people wait until they’re at least in the chair.”

That has a smile tugging at your lips, albeit unwillingly. Your smile is like a leashed wild animal, with too many teeth when you feel threatened. Contained for now.

If you got up and walked out right now, would she call someone to restrain you? Will you be committed if you tell the truth? Or are you just misinterpreting the stakes?

You are here of your own volition. Even if it was a condition that Jin and Namjoon weren't willing to budge on after the events of last week. It's not like the pack is having you put in a mental institution or something, although they did come with you today. For moral support.

The waiting room was stuffy and yellow, one of those little waterfall mirrors in the corner that you’d watched in a fog sat between Yoongi and Jimin while Jin filled out the necessary paperwork. His pen hovering over the small boxes every few seconds. He'd taken the afternoon off of work to make sure he was there, just to fill out paperwork.

Are you on any medications? Do you have a history with substance abuse disorders? Do you have any intent to harm yourself or others?

Sending glares to anyone who dared to come too close, Jimin had looked and smelled threatening. You're not sure he’d have let you go into an isolated location with her if she’d been an alpha. Jin too had looked close to snapping.

yoongi was the only one who looked somewhat calm, althoug his hand was tightly laced with yours (and a little sweaty)

It’s a wonder that the rest of your pack had agreed to stay home for this. This was just one of several concessions you’d made after what the pack has politely begun referring to as 'sad pup time' during your more vulnerable moments, and blatantly 'your breakdown' during less fragile ones.

But sweet words or not. The facts remain; You are here in this chair after a nearly tearful departure.

You’d met the therapist in the doorway, shaking in your boots, and upon being separated from your pack with the promise that they’d be just downstairs in the lobby, you’d followed her inside.

Yoongi had made a noise in his throat, making you turn back. Dr.Rima turned to watch as he’d pulled you in for a last-minute hug, ducking down to your level. “One hour, okay? We’ll be just downstairs. Text me if you need me.”

His eyes were heavy-looking at the stranger. Unwilling to let you go just yet. A little stalwart, a little standoffish.

“Take good care of her please. She’s very precious to us.”

Precious.

That much was evident by the nearly three-page document that both your pack alpha and omega sent through once Namjoon and Jin had selected Dr. Rima as your therapist. Dr. Rima has quite a bit of experience dealing with overprotective pack alphas and pack omegas. Let alone a pack alpha and pack omega who have such a clinical background.

Yes, you must be well taken care of. At least on paper.

She’s already itching a little, to get her hands on all the others. Packmates and their names are written out, as a part of all intake files. Large packs aren't so common anymore. Her eyes fix on one name; Min Yoongi (beta, mate) unemployed.

The big windows help it feel not so small, on the second floor, the trees block out most of the view of the park below. A small voice that sounds like Hobi whispers that it’s a shame she doesn’t have any plants in here, they'd do so well with all of this natural light.

Your knees clack together a little, moving listlessly, the anxiety in your body begging to be released somewhere.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t we start with why you wanted to come in today.”

You avoid her eye contact, looking instead at the tops of the trees, you don’t know why they haven’t changed color yet, all of the trees on your street are half bare already. She has a smooth inoffensive scent, but you’re mated to a beta so you know what to expect when it comes to the relaxing effects, the subtle haze at the edge of your vision. It must come in handy, having the biological upper hand, when it comes to patients in distress.

If therapists are rare, beta therapists must be even rarer.

You can practically hear Jin, “Nothing but the best for my pup.” There is a part of your brain that won’t ever turn off, appraising everything around you. The designer pumps that she wears. The knickknacks on her desks, there are no photos of any packs that she might call her own, just a pink calendar in the corner.

Your breath goes just a little bit rapid, just a little, hitching when you think of it.

“Did Jin tell you anything?”

“He didn’t. Although my secretary did inform me that he filled out the paperwork for you.” The air in the therapist’s office is cold. Cold enough that it has you wrapping your sweater sleeves over your knuckles.

Your cheeks heat “My pack they- get a bit- protective.” Your fingers circle your wrist. You’re glad that Hobi convinced you to take one of his sweatshirts. He'd had a strange look on his face while he zipped it up, and you'd had to worry and wonder about it the whole morning. You'd worried more once he texted, just after he must have gotten to work.

“I have kind of a history of self-destructive behavior and I- I kind fell into bad habits a few days ago and blew up. It was all kind of triggered by this like- thing that happened with me and my other packmate.” It’s surprisingly easy to tell the truth.

You’re a right side better than you have been the last few weeks, now. A little bit more present, less foggy. The doctor just looks at her screen and not at you. What is it with her asking questions that make you not want to lie? Why does it feel like you should anyway?

Dr. Rima reads between the lines, what you're trying to say without saying it. “Is there a possibility of you hurting yourself again?” She clicks at the screen a little rapidly.

“No.”

The truth is you have no idea. It seems best to lie in this situation. But you consider it; one of your packmates making the call that you are too much to handle, that you need more help than they can offer. You imagine what it would be like to be in inpatient care. Grippy socks and group therapy and probably observed mealtimes. Maybe Iv's and feeding tubes if it came to that. Away from the pack and away from Yoongi.

He’s just downstairs, but that feels too far. There was no way that he was going to let you do this alone, you wouldn't be surprised if he never left the waiting room.

It’s just a therapy session. The very thing that you once refused. But now that you're here you might as well heal, you might as well work to stop this endless train of brief highs and endless lows. you'll give it a go, why not? What do you have to lose?

And yet, the texts from Hobi remain unanswered:

Ho-🐝 (9:48): Hey, I’m really proud of you.

Ho-🐝 (9:48): I’m really happy I get to be your packmate. In case you ever worry.

Ho-🐝 (9:49): And your best friend too &lt;3

Ho-🐝 (9:51): Just so you knowwww

The pack has kept you substantially plied with little solutions since your breakdown last week. They haven’t let you rot like usual. They’ve kept your days full of little activities; nothing too extravagant or tiring. Letting you rest when you need to and encouraging you to get outside of your comfort zone when it’s clear you’re giving in.

It comes down to that more often than not; giving in or not giving in.

Not giving in looks like trips back to the beach with Hobi. Like going to the salon with Tae and shopping with Jimin. Or another workout class with Jungkook where you’d spent more of the time lounging on the yoga mat than actually moving your body. But you'd still tenuously agreed to sign up for more classes under the encouragement of Wonho and Jungkook.

And now twice a week, you’ve got a mat to call your own during any classes, in the back, if you decide you want it. Your callender hasn't felt so full in years, it feels strange, to have something to do during the weeks that isn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel and doing house chores. Strange in a good way.

Not all of the pack's solutions aren’t silly but sometimes, silly is a good way to push out the dark.

The morning after your breakdown; you'd watched your pack work, fighting back a flush. Sitting at the kitchen bar stool while Yoongi applied painter’s tape to the floor, not intent on keeping back paint this time, but marking it off for you.

You’re a little bit more determined this morning although your first night without nightmares in a little over a month had kept you in higher spirits. You feel more well-rested than you have in ages.

“You don’t need to- I promise- I’m not going-“ but your requests had fallen on deaf ears. Worry building until Jungkook stood up fast grinning up at you, pupils wide brown pools from getting scented stupid this morning.

(Scented stupid, you'd been scented by the pack too, had struggled a little against it, too shy as Namjoon dragged his throat along yours, squirming until yoongi held you down a little, checking with you each few seconds that you wanted that, that your squirming was really just needing to feel a firm touch, a dominant one.

You will go nowhere until your pack have had their right to you, scenting you up, making your scent gland tender and swollen under their teeths and tongues.

It felt so much better to be made to handle it, each of the pack, even hobi, hovering over you to scent you with their wrists and throats. until you smelled so claimed by them that you couldn't breathe without smelling it- Pack.

Jungkook had pouted until he'd gotten the same treatment, although the omegaspace haze had lasted longer on him than it had on you.

He stands up so fast that his hair fluffs. Catching himself on your leg with a giggle before he topples over. grinning up at you before pressing a sleepy sloppy kiss to your knee and then another to your lips,

“No pup zone!" Omega Space Jungkook can get a little bit ridiculous even at the best of times. He's got a case of the morning omegaspace zoomies as he giggles and nips at your nose. You playfully push at his chest. He doesn't budge.

"Your whole face is a no-pup zone." The dissatisfied pur-chirp he'd let out had sounded half hurt, half encouraged.

Namjoon had eased your discomfort. Pulling you from the stool to lean back against his chest, fingers drumming out a rhythm on your legs as Jungkook huffes into your throat.

Having this failsafe- this rule, does not mean that they think you’re going to fail, these are guard rails to keep you on track. Namjoon looks down at you, his full bottom lip tucked a little, not a pout but close. “This is the easiest solution, if you don’t go near it then maybe, maybe it helps.”

His fingers drum against your skin again, and you lean back into him. Uneasy but willing to let him soothe you.

So yes, you’ve been banned from the kitchen, banned from crossing that line that runs from the edge of the coffee stand and just in front of Tae's library room, to the island and over to the fridge. Unless there is someone else close by. You are not allowed here without supervision.

It’s a simple solution, limiting you from the place that you use to hurt yourself. Never mind the fact that there are dozens if not hundreds of other possible avenues you could use. Your creativity knows no bounds when it comes to pain, but you quiet that part of yourself when the desire for hurt gets loud.

You can’t say it hasn’t helped. But then again, the pack has kept you so busy since your breakdown that you haven't had any time to think of hurting yourself let alone put any plans into action.

Across from you, Dr. Rima waits expectantly.

"It was kind of triggered by this thing that happened."

The tip of her pen bobs a little as she writes. “Could you describe the event to me? Or is that something you're not ready to talk about?" You nod and she waits patiently. It takes you a breath to answer.

“A little less than a month ago one of my packmates and I found a dead body."

You feel a little vindicated at her inhale of breath. Wide eyes that say yes- that is something traumatic, yes, it's fair that it kinda triggered you into a more fragile state.

"It dredged up a lot of feelings about my past. Before that, I was kind of starting to feel s-safe which I haven't like, ever been able to feel."

“And your packmate?"

There is new treacherous wetness balancing on your waterline. “Hobi’s a lot stronger than me, his past and mine are really similar but he just- handles his better. A lot of the time it feels like I learn from him even though he’d tell you the opposite is true. He’s my best friend." Your voice goes quiet, "I love my mate more than I love anyone else, but sometimes- Hobi just- gets me you know?" You go a little misty-eyed. Hands tightening on Hobi's sweatshirt.

“Yet he’s not the one sitting in my chair right now.”

You close your eyes, "he's not."

“For what it’s worth- you can have more than one best friend.” Dr. Rima writes as quickly as she can, taking it down. “How long have you been romantically involved with him? Who came first, your mate or him?”

You jolt forward, “Oh no- we’re not- Hobi and I aren't-" You take a deep breath to clarify. "Everyone else in the pack is together but Hobi and I are just friends. We all have our like… little units?”

"Primary partners." Dr. Rima offers.

"Yeah, that." But even that doesn't really cover it, because while Jin and Namjoon are JinandNamjoon and Jimin and Tae are JiminandTae. Jungkook is everyone's problem (in the best of ways) and you and Tae are something else too. The pack's girls the rest of them would say.

(You and Hobi are, well, YouandHobi.)

It sounds weird to say it once it comes out of your mouth. It makes an odd choked feeling lodge in your throat. Too much hope and too much shame for hoping blooming in your chest.

“I don’t know if I want to talk about him.”

She folds her hands over her knees, setting her pen down. Dr. Rima has chubby hands, disproportionate to her body. They look like they'd be soft.

She reminds you of your mom a little bit.

“That’s okay, we can talk about whatever you want. What you want and need is going to be the focus of our sessions. You’re the pilot here. I’m just here to help you interpret your thoughts and feelings.”

She folds her hands over themselves, setting her pen aside, “Why don’t we talk about the last time you remember feeling safe.”

"Physically or mentally?"

"Either, you can choose."

The rest of the session passes frightfully quickly. You can’t say that you don’t cry again. When you finally talk about Geumjae, her smile quickly dissipates. You talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw. Until you’ve depleted the whole box of her tissues. She shows you she's got more hidden under her desk when you apologize, her secret stash gets a laugh out of you.

“The fact that your pack omega filled out your paperwork isn’t the most unusual, but his preference for daily meetings or every other day is a little bit on the nose for a pack omega, I’m wondering if you share his preference.”

“He’s just overprotective.” She eyes you like Jin has good reason to be. You don’t blush this time, a little more comfortable with Dr. Rima than you were at the beginning of this. “I think maybe more than once a week but not every day.”

“How does Monday- Friday sound?”

~-~

When you walk to the door with Dr. Rima Yoongi stands abruptly from his chair.

You can tell by the shiny edge to his to his scent that he doesn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. He gets the information about your next appointment and then tugs you out the door.

Jins got his legs crossed, fancy leather shoes glinting in the sunlight by the windows. The lobby is buzzing with people coming and going. This building isn't just a therapy office but a collection of other businesses with a few shops and restaurants on the ground floor as well. He looks up and double-takes when he spots you, not standing from his chair, but he opens his arms and you fold yourself along his side, conscious of the other eyes but this.

This you need.

You press your face along the column of Jin's neck, breathing his cream scent in deep.

“Oh pup.”

Your red-rimmed eyes are too obvious and you sniffle wetly, “It was okay, I like Dr. Rima.” He laces your hands together and resists the urge to pester you with questions. Yoongi's hand is still tangled in the hood of your (Hobi's) sweatshirt. Your therapy sessions should be yours and only yours. Yoongi and Jin do not have Dr. patient confidentiality.

And yet the need to know if that helped burns through them. They won't have to wonder for long.

By the coffee stand, Jimin waves and he returns to you when the barista hands over a bag of sweets and a quad of cups. Jin continues scrawling something out for another second before he’s standing and pulling you in for another chaste scent mark.

“Let’s go home.” It's somewhere between an order and a request. But no one disobeys.

On the drive back (37 minutes total) you're a little quiet. You let the sounds of the others be your buffer. You look down at your phone and stare at Hobi’s texts. You respond with just a little heart emoji when you finally still can’t figure out a good response and you're close to home.

Home is its usual conflagration of moving bits and pieces. Each of your packmates is like a shiny cog in a pretty clock, tick tick tick tocking along. Tae and Namjoon are at the table looking through some of the pack’s bills, the pastries and coffee cups litter the table with little piles of powdered sugar and cinnamon. jimin bought enough for the whole pack.

You look at them a little too long, although not because you don't want to eat them. It’s been a while, a few weeks since you’ve made something like that, but every single one of the pastries is something you know how to make. You don’t know why you keep looking at them.

Tae smiles at you, still in the doorway. and it makes you feel a little less like you want to burst into tears. Her voice speaks of the quiet time you have in the library (the tenderness of having someone else do your makeup, another person combing your hair). You hope you'll get some dedicated one-on-one time with her soon.

"Hey little lovely, How was it?"

"She put me through the wringer but I think she got some suds out."

She and Namjoon giggle and you smile small. and you can tell that Namjoon wants to ask you more but he doesn't after a pointed look from your mate. There are footsteps in the hall and before you can move to take off your shoes Hobi is standing in the archway.

Yoongi efficiently strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt with a frustrated huff. It's Kind of like he’s trying to peel away the sadness (your clothes are soaked with your sour scent, rainy and unhappy. Regardless of Jin’s scent mark, you kind of stink).

You might have overheard their words just before you got into the car. Jin's hissed admonishment. “A lot of people cry during therapy Minnie, she’s not in trouble, can’t you smell it?”

Your scent is mellow underneath the memory of your distress, going sweeter by the second. Yoongi wants all memories of your sad scent banished from the house. Hobi stands at the door to the hallway, shifting back and forth, his eyes a little warmer than usual, hands shaking a little bit.

You’ve caught him looking at you a lot since the night he ran away, in the quiet moments when he thinks you’re not noticing. Eyes a shade warmer than usual, a sweetened franticness to his scent. Nervousness and happiness mix like blueberries and whipped cream.

When he pulls up beside you during movie nights and sits thigh to thigh with you. When his hands intertwine with yours over his knee or sometimes or when he pulls your legs sideways across his lap. He looks at you like that when he's doing the small things and he's looking at you like that right now.

You know how love starts, that it starts with the small things.

Hobi resists the urge to open his arms. would you come to him? Would you fold your body along his front so that he could feel your heartbeat? Pressing again and again to the opposite side of his chest with every thump?

He doesn’t say hey, but he does step a little closer. Fingers reaching out. The pad of his index finger slides down the meat of your pinky till it reaches the ball of your wrist. His own special hello.

Your breath hitches, just barely, almost imperceptible if it wasn’t for how close he stands.

A look behind you says Yoongi hasn’t made himself scarce, instead fussing with the pack's coats. Now that it’s getting colder, they don’t all fit by the door. You look behind Hobi and find Namjoon watching the three of you, he raises a singular eyebrow.

“How was it? Bad?” Hobi asks, breaking the silence and the tension, drawing your attention back to him. The next breath you let out is a lot less heavy, and your eyelashes flutter as he steps closer. Hobi smells good, a little earthy, mellowing out his usual sweetness. Sweet for an alpha.

“It was kind of hard, I kinda wanted to run away for a bit at the beginning." You can't keep meeting his eyes with how intensely he's looking at you and they flutter down to his hands. "I almost did.”

"I'm glad you didn't pup." Jin comments, full of reproach, the mirror to you and Hobi as he leans down to press a kiss to Namjoon's forehead. Shucking off his lapelled jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

“If you’d have called me, I’d have picked you up. We could still like- run away, if you're down.”

But the house is starting to heat up, and Jin and Yoongi are starting to cook. The light is still honey-yellow happy. And you tip your cheek into his arm. He finally- finally lets his arms settle around your waist.

“Nah, not yet.” You drag out the syllable all playful, and something forbidden stirs in Hobi’s gut. “Jin’s making my favorite tonight. not until later?”

Hobi goes silent, pulls back, biting his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes down. and-

You laugh and Hobi blushes. “Just spit it out.”

Everyone’s been a little bit touchier with you since that night (a little more overbearing too). You won’t immediately chalk Hobi's touchyness up to what you're all thinking. But the affection makes your scent gland feel tender. Zinging when Yoongi steps up behind you and nuzzles into it, huffing again.

Friends can hug each other after therapy right? Hobi swallows thickly and you feel it against your collar bone as he pulls back and steps away from you. “I ugh- got you a present?”

You brighten up instantly, and Hobi's anxiety increases tenfold. A bit of casual mischievousness on the edge of your lips that always have Hobi feeling like he’s being teased even though he knows he isn’t.

“Oh? A present? You’ve never gotten me a present before!”

He kicks at imaginary dust bunnies, fighting back what he knows is a noticeable flush. “I ugh- still owe you, from the car you know and honestly it's not even like a big gift it's like- so small in comparison and-”

Yoongi huffs and continues to disrobe you. Pulling your sweater over your head when he’s not satisfied that your unhappy scent has dissipated. Muttering something like. “hopeless alpha” under his breath. Your tank top pulls up, inches of your hip and skin on display. It's nothing that Hobi hasn't seen before and yet the blush reignites. The sunshine to your morning glory.

“I guess you're right.” But it doesn’t feel like it. Hobi doesn’t owe you anything for that, not when it was so easy to give. Not when you’ve gotten so many late-night drives from that gift.

Hoseok got the idea for your courting gift, one morning while watching you say goodbye to Namjoon:

The pack alpha has always been a fan of goodbye kisses, good morning, and goodnight kisses too. The particular kiss that morning had ‘I’ll miss you’ written all over it. It was so pretty in the way that you lingered, arms around Namjoon’s neck. His hand is underneath your shirt on the small of your back. Such a small touch and yet so gently possessive that it had Hobi aching to see it.

Hobi is unfortunately prone to jealousy and it turns the back of his neck hot. Makes his hands feel oddly tender. He's distracted by the visual, the task of packing up his work bag forgotten. Hoseok’s shift at the flower shop doesn’t start for another few hours, and he’s waiting, watching, an unhappy voyeur.

You and Namjoon have quite the height difference, if he was in between the two of you he’d be the perfect middle ground. That’s just another stupid thought, another stupid thought in the countless number of stupid thoughts that he’s had. (I like my alphas a little pathetic, and nothing's more pathetic than an alpha pining after an omega.)

He grumbles.

Yoongi prattles on, more awake than all of them as he outlines what you have to do today to make progress on the house- which is to go find a place that sells cheaper tile than the ones you first thought of using in the bathroom on the first floor. And maybe change it up a little.

The bathrooms escaped the renovations somehow, and a few nights ago- Jimin had admitted how much they actually use it even though it’s not the pack's primary bathroom anymore. Now that it’s not in use, they’re more willing to part with it for a few days for some very necessary re-styling. it toes the line from vintage to old a little too hard. The yellow is a little…yellow.

Yoongi wants to go light and airy with the color scheme, like he did with the upstairs bathroom and it's seafoam and brown tones. But like with most of the house, your vote is for colorful. “How about a light blue-” Yoongi continues to argue while you kiss Namjoon a little senseless in the doorway, at least Namjoon seems properly dazed, chasing your lips when you pull apart.

“No- we don’t have a room that’s magenta yet!”

This starts the same argument as always; “We can’t make every room in this house pink for Tae.”

But goodbyes take precedence, and when you turn back and smile at Hobi he flushes, shy to be caught looking. He moves, stepping around you and Namjoon to put his water bottle into his bag when you shout, “Stop, Seokie!”

Seokie is a new nickname, one that Jin only uses in the quietest of moments that you've somehow adopted when you don't want to call him Hobi. Hobi always thought that if you’d use any other nickname with him- you’d use daisy (he might want you and yoongi to share that pet name). But he’s a good pup and stops what he’s doing. Every atom in his body every electron no longer circulates neutrons but circulates you instead. Pulled in by your gravity.

You’ve moved so suddenly that you’ve spilled a bit of your coffee onto the floor. Maybe kissing Namjoon has left you feeling a little dizzy too. Yoongi just sighs fondly and wipes it up. Jimin looks up from his phone, smiling when he sees.

“You’ve got a rainbow on your cheek.”

It’s a trick of the light, early morning sunshine refracted through the mottled window just right to cast a single rainbow on the wall and on Hobi when he steps in front of it.

You cup his cheek, finger skimming across where the rainbow sits.

"Pretty."

Hobi feels hot all over.

At Tae’s call of, “If I have to do my eyeliner one more time I’m going to scream!” You giggle and dart away from him. Going to tend to Tae with a soft reply of "I've got you baby."

Hoseok is left, blushing in the morning light. Staying still like you might come by and cup his cheek again, Like a flower staying still in the hope of pollination.

Hobi is left, wanting to scream and somehow demand you back, both would be fair. His plight isn't missed by his packmates, who lean in like a set of jackals, grinning ear to ear at hobi's flustered predicament.

She's going to send him into rut if she's not careful Jin thinks, but doesn't say. instead he teases, “You’ve got to leave in the next ten-minute Hobi.”

Only then does Hoseok move- released from his spell and finally losing the rainbow on his cheeks though they might as well have stayed with how happy and warm he feels. How absolutely incandescent the love is glowing in his chest. A full spectrum of feelings, longing for you to come back.

He almost trips over noodle, darting after you with his tail raised high, catching himself on the edge of the couch at the last second, one shoe on and one off, his water bottle falling and spilling in the process.

yoongi sighs, and stoops to wipe it up. Jimin giggles and pulls Hobi up by his hips, the alpha's fingers feel hot where they've touched him, scalding. “What’s wrong, omega got your tongue?” yoongi returns to his breakfast, throwing the wad of soggy paper towels into the trash.

Jungkook laughs, “It’s more like he wants an omega to have his tongue in her-“

“You guys are gross,” He pushes at Jimin’s shoulder finally moving right. Yoongi hides his smile in a mouthful of Captain Crunch.

Hobi doesn’t think about the rainbows again until his next afternoon shift. When the low angle of the autumn sun cuts through the windows and catches the suncatchers that they hang in the doorway of the flower shop and cast more rainbows- dozens of them really across him and the flower.

He remembers when you came to visit, how you'd lingered over them, looked at them a second longer than you looked at the plants.

It’s a bit of a kitschy display. Other polished stones and nick nacks sitting on the deep shelf along with some smaller potted plants. A little tray of rose-quartz stones falsely advertises themselves as ‘heat reducers.’

The colors start to blend, and the rainbows sway softly in the light, gentle and pretty. He snaps a photo and thinks about sending it to you, but doesn’t.

The store is blissfully empty of Hobi's coworkers when he selects three of them. It's quiet when he packages them in tissue paper, one with a huge pink stained-glass moon at the top, another with three tiers. Each of them is delicate and pretty in their own right. No one’s bought a single one of them in the last three months anyway. They'll hardly be missed. Hobi gives himself a fat employee discount.

Hobi is unfortunately bad at hiding things, especially when he's nervous. Luckily the pack alpha doesn’t have it in him to tease. Namjoon had in fact been only too encouraging and given him a pep talk just this morning about courting and courting presents.

“The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t like it- and then you just have to try again which you were already planning on doing anyway.” Namjoon is quite simply the best at courting. It doesn't matter which subgender; alphas, beta’s, and omegas have all fallen under his touch. At least Hoseok has the opportunity to learn from a professional. Somehow the thought that you'd compare him to namjoon doesn't cross his mind.

Hoseok isn’t good at the romantic gestures that courting necessitates. He’s more of the ‘there when you need him’ kind of lover. Ready to make the small changes to make his loved ones' lives more manageable. Ready with his car keys for adventures. Those parts are easy, this is out of his depth.

Especially when it comes to you. Even After the love confessions, (are confessions still confessions if they’re so internal?) Hobi feels mostly unmoored. About to shatter upon unknown shores.

God, crushes are so frustrating (in the best kind of way, the way that keeps you sighing and daydreaming, the kind of way that makes you look in the mirror a little longer).

Tae helped him half an hour before she started on the pack's paperwork. They'd spent an hour deciding which places were best to hang them to get the greatest number of rainbows. She had even fussed with his hair a little to make it lie right. Having him hop up on the couch so she could see Hobi's face from your angle.

Hobi wanted to make sure there were at least one or two rainbows when he shows you. But when he leads you to the sunroom, his hands over your eyes (the same position you found yourself in when Namjoon surprised you with the nesting pod) there are more of them than there were when he set them up, whole constellations swaying softly.

The suncatchers are pretty and twinkly sparkly in the golden hour light, and your lips part in a simple show of awe when Hobi tells you you can open your eyes. It's so bright, they send dozens of little rainbows across the walls and your nesting pod. Over the white couch and the fig in the corner.

It’s very very pretty. and when you turn back to look a thim, Hobi once again has a rainbow on his cheek.

Your eyes twinkle, but you don't say anything. you stay quiet for long enough that Hobi gets nervous. his anxiety makes him talk fast. “I hung them here- but you can put them wherever you want- in the kitchen or upstairs or I can get you more for any places you want to put them- or- or- ”

You just about tackle him, arms looping around his neck resting your weight in his arms that instinctively grip around your waist. Hobi teeters, unsteady with such a heavy heart, toppling both of you onto the couch as you cry. "I love it!"

You’re sprawled not lying across him but his hand goes out to support the way you cling and rub your face into his chest, a happy little chirp slipping past your lips.

The wild thing in Hobi’s chest settles, settles, and curls around you. Tight and protective like a vice. You pull back, and your smile is just as bright.

Hobi sags, and rests his neck back against the couch, "Good- thank fucking god- I was so fucking nervous-" You fiddle with the buttons on his flannel, it's one of Yoongi's. It seems fitting that you steal his clothes and he steals Yoongi's.

"What brought all this on?"

Hobi doesn't have a good answer, in the quiet with the rainbows, or at least an answer he's ready for. He doesn't say that this is a courting present, and he doesn't need to because instead of answering your question- he replies with one of his own.

“Wanna go for a drive later?” he asks, voice tremulous like he thinks you might refuse him. You’ve never said no to him before, never said not tonight only not right now. Do you treasure our little talks the same way I do?

“Sure, after dinner? like I said? Just-" You lean back against his chest, and Hobi’s hands go tight tight tight around your waist. Holding you close. Clingy. He does not slip his hand under your shirt to cup the side of your hip the way that Namjoon might, but the thought crosses his mind.

Hobi is a good alpha, he won't cross that line until you tell him it's okay. Until then a thin layer of fabric separates his skin from yours. You're still warm to the couch.

“Sit and watch them with me?” You ask quietly. Almost shy, like you think he’d refuse you. He nods and the two of you sit on the couch to look at the rainbows together.

Eventually, Noodle finds the two of you, meowing and hopping up to stretch out along your thighs. Worming his way between the two of you.

The rainbows don't last forever, but Hobi sits with you until they fade.

~-~

Tae’s library is just like every public library:

Tall windows, wide quiet shelves with room for the stories to breathe. A colorful young adult section and an even more colorful kid’s section. A bit aways from the tables and computers so that any over-excited pups don’t disturb the adults. Big deep beanbags for small children to cuddle up to while they ponder fairy tales and adventures only a plastic-covered book away.

Tae’s long plaid skirt barely makes a whisper along the ground. The colder weather has allowed her to live all of her cottage core fantasies, her dark academia aesthetic truly flourishing. Her shirt is a little translucent today, and the fading summer tan of her skin pokes through it in spots where her tank top doesn't hide. Pretty long earrings dangle and clink in the quiet while she works on her shelving.

Wearing her chosen clothing items at work has been a bit of a work in progress.

Most of Tae’s coworkers approve of her transition in that overly willing-to-be-an-ally way that middle-aged women who generally consider themselves progressive outside of closed doors all do. And the ones that don’t approve have swallowed their words with lingering sour eyes and raised upper lips after the general receptiveness to Tae’s social transition.

It's hard to know who's genuine with it, who just doesn't want to cause a fuss, and who just doesn't give a shit. But most of the time her outfits get one or two compliments and thats it. Tae would rather them say nothing than anything negitive.

Tae likes the quiet of the library at this time of day, the silence gives her enough room to let her imagination wander. Tae likes to file away books in mid-morning, when there are fewer people around and her humming is less likely to disturb any of the library’s patrons. She sings to the stories and they sing back, tempting her with every well-worded title and delicately chaste summary.

But she doesn’t just think about stories or the book she's writing (her book is currently giving her hell on the 30th chapter) No. Today- there is a much more interesting love story blooming in her head, in the pack's den too.

She’s been thinking about you all morning (Tae thinks about you almost every morning) there are even little poems scrawled on the edge of her newspaper. Lines that are you and a bit of Hobi too.

I wished that I might be your hair clip / to know what it feels like / to be pressed against the nape of your neck/ To be your suntan/ perched on the edge/ of what you show everyone and what you show no one/ To be the bearer of every freckle/ like the sky holds the stars/ To hold and never let go/ Like birds hold sunshine / and flowers hold songs.

Everyone had noticed of course, how much time you and Hobi have been spending together.

The pack had even talked about it during a quiet moment without you and Hobi. Yoongi’s lack of communication regarding you and Hobi. “I don’t know anything” he’d unsuccessfully lied, and nearly been heaved up and wrestled to the couch as a result. But Jungkook’s puppy eyes had unsuccessfully endeared him.

Yoongi has kept Hobi's secret, but it's kind of hard not to notice. Tae isn't a fool. Tae is a much better liar than Yoongi is- because when you'd come to her after your late-night drive to gush with her about Hobi and the rainbows over makeup. She hadn't said anything about what she knows.

Tae couldn’t tell you how many times she’d noticed little touches, Hobi’s hand lingering on the small of your back, grabbing your waist when he moved behind you in the bathroom. When he take the greatest care to set out his sweatshirts in the morning and even asks Jungkook to make sure they’re clean. They’re practically not even his sweatshirts anymore with the amount you’ve been wearing them.

Tae isn’t an idiot, she knows that Hobi’s finally realized it. While she doesn’t trust herself to play matchmaker given how poorly the first time she pointed out Hobi’s attraction went. that doesn’t mean she’s not going to park herself firmly on the edge of her fantasy land with a box of popcorn.

If they were gonna get married, would Hobi wear a red tux or black or grey? Her brain is already thinking of wedding dresses. One of these days she’s really going to have to make a Pinterest board. Hobi would probably want to do sunflowers, and that might clash with the red unless it was a fall wedding- ooh, and what about pearl details and daisies? a beach wedding might be a little too on the nose for you.

Tae is so absorbed with her shelving and her daydreaming that she doesn’t notice the sound of small shoes on the carpeted floor. Nor does she notice the light-up flash of tiny iorn man sneakers. Her musings are easily interrupted by a small tug on her skirt, shy almost. She startles a little, looking down at the sudden touch.

The little pup's thumb is wet from where it was clearly placed behind their bucked teeth. He's got wide brown eyes and soft-looking hair, Tae can't stop the smile that comes to her lips.

“I wanted to read a book but I couldn’t reach, can you help me? Please?”

Tae’s heart swells as she leans down to the pup's level. “Of course, I can! Why don’t you show me what one you wanted,” diligently Tae follows the little one a few isles over, tugged along by their insistent pulling as he tells her about the pretty cover.

The little pup turns back, furrowing his bushy brows up at Tae, “are you a princess?” he asks. Tae almost has to laugh, a bright happy gender euphoric feeling filling her chest, that feeling of I could be filling her.

She makes her whisper just a little more hushed, playing along, “Don’t tell anyone okay? It's a secret.” The little pup nods, eyes darting around like there are dragons that would threaten her.

“What gave me away?”

“Princesses wear long skirts!” the pup says cheerfully, like it makes the most sense in the world. He's a little too loud and Tae winces. He finally finds the shelve with the story. The spine glimmers pink and gold and Tae is unsurprised to find the illustrated copy of Cinderella. Not the Disney or PJ version, but the Brothers Grimm version.

Tae cringes at the pair of doves on the cover.

Tae doesn’t say that the little pup is too small to read a book so big, or that there is one with more pictures much more appropriate away from the young adult section. The child can’t be more than 6 years old.

But still, Tae retrieves it and delivers it to their waiting arms. The little one clutches it to his chest, thanks Tae, and then promptly plops themselves onto the carpeted floor right there.

He opens the first page, huffs, and then looks up at her imploringly.

“I just realized I can’t read.”

He pouts and Tae melts. Tae wonders where the pup's mother is, but really, there certainly can't be much harm in this. This isn't the first time Tae has been guilted into reading a story to a pup while their parents work or make use of the library's computers.

"Just the first page.” She intones, caution for the child’s hopes in her voice, she presses her skirt under her knees and sits on the scratchy carpet. The pup curls close to see the pictures. Resting his tiny chubby cheek in the billow of Tae’s big puffy sleeve.

Tae's chest is all tight as she reads. The pup is very well-behaved, he pauses, and asks questions in a soft voice only when Tae gives him space to respond. Tae easily ommits the parts that aren't appropriate. but tae finds herself watching the pup a little bit more as the minutes stretch.

In a few years with your own little ones around, will Tae become the defacto bedtime story reader? Will she do this with the pack's pups one day? Will she be the one to take that bright little light in their eyes that imagines things as greater and more and cultivate it? Her cheeks feel warm at the prospect, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in excitement.

Your pups and Jin's pups too- they're gonna be so loved. Tae's gonna be the best mom to them, The best alpha too.

One page turns into two and then three. In this quiet corner with only Tae’s voice as ruler and god, the little pup hinges on every word. Until there’s another voice close by. An adult not wishing to be loud, a whispered name.

“Jae?”

Tae smiles up at the woman at the end of the aisle of books. Her smile turns sweeter when Jae hops up and runs to press his face into her jeaned thighs. Tae remembers how that felt, how every scent besides Tae’s own omega mother felt overwhelming and icky.

Tae stands with a crack of her knees and makes to hand over the book, “This makes a great bedtime story until about chapter 8, that one you might want to skip until he’s a little older.”

The woman makes to smile, but it only goes so far. Tae watches in perfect detail, everything in slow motion, as her eyes flicker down to Tae’s Addams apple.

She drags her child close by their wrist quicker than Tae can blink. Tae sees the moment that the child realizes this touch isn’t gentle, wide eyes going fear-stricken as he's tugged behind her back. And then it's all downhill from there.

I'll spare you the more vile bits.

But the saddest moment of the argument that follows (Which involves not one but three of Tae's co-workers to calm down the hysterical woman whose screeches echo around the quiet library) is when the pup tries to get his mother's attention. "Mom, I liked that she was reading to me."

"He" the certified Karen hisses, moving in a way that makes the pup flinch back. "-should know better than to corrupt a pup with such- such-" her eyes dart down and up, and Tae's skin burns. "Disgusting behavior."

The misgendering doesn't even sting. What does hurt is the eyes peering in. She isn't being quiet and it's causing many of the library's patrons' attention is diverted. Tae's coworkers have put themselves between Tae and the woman. But there still aren't enough people (enough packmates) in between her and the verbal tirade.

An hour later, after the woman has left after threatening to call the police, Tae talks with his boss and his boss’s boss. The room behind the front desk is glass, and he knows that the door doesn’t keep the sound of their raised voice out.

“I wasn’t harassing her child; I was just helping him find a book for Christ sake!”

The worst part is that this isn’t the first time that this has happened. No- since Tae came out there have been two other complaints leveled against her from bigoted patrons. Both right at the beginning before she got the hang of presenting how she wanted to.

At least those confrontations weren’t face-to-face. At least those complaints didn’t end with someone threatening to call the police and a pup cowering, tugged along too roughly out the door.

The little pup had glanced back at Tae, mouth in pout, eyes swimming with tears.

Even if the woman felt righteous in her anger, the least she could have done was not yell in front of the pup. Tae promises herself right then and there, that she'll never raise her voice in front of the pack's pups, not in anger.

The book has stayed on the counter at the front. Pink and gold and treacherous. Tae hopes that if anything, the pup finds it and reads the ending one day. Stories have a way of finding us, even when the world makes us let them go.

Now in the back room behind the check-out counter. Tae’s boss levels her with an expectant look, the kind that people give when they don’t want to be transphobic not really- it’s just so hard for them not to, so learned. Tae is the nail that sticks up. It’s bullshit really. Tae can tell it's bullshit before she opens her mouth.

“Really? He asked for Cinderella?”

“Yes.” Tae’s biting tone is an alpha’s tone, not a man’s, and yet she knows how it sounds.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m not lying.” Is Tae supposed to only help some children find the books they want? Is she supposed to look at them and make her best guess if they’ve got homophobic parents and skip them over? It’s not her fault that the sweet sweet pup’s parent was a bigot.

“I can’t help but feel like- you’ve got a personal agenda-“

"Charlie-" the district manager cautions.

Tae can’t stop herself from snapping, alpha anger sparking with the intent to burn. “Little boys should be allowed to read Cinderella if they want to” Rats and all. Her hands are shaking, and it isn’t missed by them. The room smells thick with Tae’s spicy cinnamon anger.

The district manager sets her hand on Tae's shoulder, and her anger ebbs just a little. “I think maybe you should go home a little early today, just to cool off. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Tae doesn’t want to go home early, Tae doesn’t want to go home at all as she packs up her books. Her bag lighter than usual, absent of the stories that she wants to take home. For once there aren’t any that she wants to read.

She walks to the train station because Jimin won’t be off work for another 2 hours and that’s when he’d usually pick her up, the last three days he’s gotten her flowers too; white roses the first day, pink the second, and red the third. She sends him a text.

Tae <3 (1:48): I left work early today, you don’t have to pick me up, I’ll get an Uber home.

Mini-alpha (1:49):!!!!!

Mini-alpha (1:49): What happened? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I can leave now.

Tae sighs, looking down at her phone while she waits for the crosswalk light to come on. Red still, green in a few seconds, she only has to wait. She can practically feel Jimin's nervous energy through the phone. it's a wonder he doesn't immediately call her.

It makes her soft. It isn't in Jimin's nature to give any of his lovers any space but he always makes an effort when it comes to her.

Tae <3 (1:53): No. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you when you get home.

Tae doesn’t want to talk to Jimin about transphobia again. At least not yet. It’s too much energy. It’s not that Tae doesn’t want to make what happened during Namjoon’s rut better. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about it- it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about, the explanation of his actions are such a burden for Tae to bear. And Tae trusts that Jimin’s heart is in the right place even if he makes mistakes. And even telling Jimin off, yelling at him, wouldn’t change it.

Either one day Tae will not have to deal with bigoted parents, either one day she’ll pass and won’t have to worry, or she'll always be in this awkward middle ground.

Trans people are like toupees, you only notice them when there’s something off, something a little misplaced about them. Tae fears that most of all. Femininity, as much as she wants it, as much as it's hers to take, what if it won't ever fit right? What if she never passes?

Tae loves her job at the library, it’s the perfect mix of boring and safe and easy even if it doesn’t pay enough. But even as she's gained things like skirts and puffy sleeves, she's exchanged them for days like today. Really, the library was her favorite place before today and now, every step away from it makes her feel a little lighter. She's not even angry anymore, just exhausted mentally.

Tae decides to walk home at least she’s in her most conservative channel flats, they could use a little bit more wear and love and Tae’s thoughts are still too sharp. She dulls them to a palatable edge that all falls apart when she gets home.

You’re there, thank fucking god you’re always there when she gets home. You’ll always be Tae’s comfort person.

Tae opens the door with a creek and push of cold air, you're saying something to Yoongi turning with a toss of your hair, eyes brightening when you see her before you've even said her name.

You look a little healthier today, with a little bit more of a rosy glow to your cheeks and a healthy brightness to your eyes, not all glassy.

"Tae! You're home early!"

Tae will never stop being proud of how hard you try, and will never stop being a bit envious either because Tae-

Tae looks at you and wilts, bag flopping onto the floor, and predictably burst into tears.

"Oh- oh Tae."

"Baby girl-"

You and Yoongi are just about the best security blanket a packmate could ask for. You're so good as you pull her down to your level so you can kiss away her tears, maneuvering her like a perfect team onto the couch. Yoongi's strong hands slide off her shoes. Yoongi's fingers digging into her sore heel as you kiss away her every tear.

A substantial amount of babying and a Sos packmate in distress text later, and Tae is reclining across a freshly fluffed nest, the muscles in her body relaxed. The blisters on the back of her feet are bandaged and kissed. Every inch of her body is too.

You don't talk about it until after the pack's facemasks are finished, and hobi's clear coat has dried over the tiny nail sticker that you left. a small bumblebee.

Your skin smells sweet after a long long bath full of fancy bath bombs. Jinnie had also rubbed oil onto her freshly shaven legs. You helped, dragging it along oh so carefully to not nick her skin. Ending each pass with a kiss to her ankle and then upper thigh.

Tae’s head is in your lap now, cheek pressed against your (slightly chubbier) thighs. Her sniffles the background music as Tae gives her final recap of what happened.

Your nose gets a wrinkle in it when you go cross. "There's so much meanness to the world, I hate how people have to add to it."

Jimin’s anger leaves an undercurrent in the air, dragging the other alphas along, Hobi’s hands are strong where they dig into Tae’s shoulders, belly down in the nest while you play with her hair, braiding it back and forth. The attention makes her feel a little tingly.

“Do you know what her name was? Did you get a look at her car-“ Jimin asks, nearly barking. The library has cameras. Jimin knows it does.

Jin sets a hand on the back of his neck, a scruff threatening. “Down pup. Tae doesn’t need you to track them down.” Jimin’s teeth look particularly sharp in the light. For a face so soft he has quite the mouth on him.

“They made her sad,” he growls, but it's softer, more pointed as he crouches over her.

Namjoon’s quiet voice unlocks the whole world's worries, massaging gently down the column of Tae’s delicate neck, rough hands, worn tender touching her regardless. Namjoon is rarely ever so pointed, but it's logical, from an alpha's perspective, Tae knows what he hints.

"I think that if your bosses aren't going to protect you from people like that, then I want you to leave your job." Jin gives him a look like, 'Now you know where I'm coming from' but Tae's the important packmate right now.

Tae rolls Namjoon's words around her tongue, her hand loosely twined with his. Namjoon has the steadiest hands out of everyone in the pack and a few minutes ago he repurposed his surgery skills to do her nails. Took off the chipped red and re-did them because Namjoon knows she feels best when her claws are polished. He checks them now. Tapping them lightly to not smudge them.

It's a girl's night, the first girl's night you've ever had with the whole pack. Tae's face is still glossy from the face mask.

“I don’t think I want to quit; I don’t think that would help at all that’s not going to like- solve the world and all its issues.”

“No, but- if it’s making you more sad than happy. Then maybe it’s worth considering.”

Tae knows Namjoon’s not saying that she doesn’t make enough to affect the pack's finances, but that's still the truth. Hobi pulls himself along her other side and you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Hobi presses a kiss to Tae's temple, “All you want to do is write every day anyways, and we just want you to be happy,” 6 heads nod their agreement.

Hobi isn't wrong; The last four weekends in a row Tae has woken up several hours earlier than the pack would usually stir from morning cuddles, just to get a few hours of uninterrupted writing done. She’s also spent nearly every night in her library room, staying up late after the pack has retired upstairs until one of you comes down and wrangles her upstairs. The pack's prettiest alpha needs her beauty sleep.

But is it enough to count on? Is it worth quitting her job over?

You duck down low, kissing the same spot Hobi did, your lips touching just a Tae away. a heavy breath wooshes out of her chest. "Yeah why wouldn't we want you to quit? If you're always here then I can always do this."

Your kiss is gentle, and it tastes like belonging more than Tae would ever be able to write, to describe. A love that makes you feel like you belong is a rare thing. And Tae's hand goes up to tangle in your hair, keeping you there for just a shared breath longer.

The next breath tastes a bit like freedom. It's scary to be free.

(But Tae leaves her 2 weeks' notice on her boss’s desk before the end of the next work day, and she doesn't feel bad about it one bit).

~-~

(1 year prior)

Maybe the truth is that the reason why you don’t feel you deserve agency is because you know what your agency looks like. The choices you’re willing to make when it comes down to it.

The secrets you tell and the lies you have buried deep in your pocket like one of Hobi’s found things. Something you can’t get rid of and cast back into the ocean. No matter how hard you try. There is something about murder that sticks, that stays no matter how many times you try to wash your hands of it.

It's not guilt, because you don't feel guilty for what you had to do.

Being backed into a corner can make someone do a whole hell of alot of monstrous things. And back then Life was monotonous. Back then there was Anguish without change.

Your life went like this: Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Meet up with Hyejin. Make poison. Make pastries. Go to the Don’s house. Feed it to them. Listen to Moonbyul tell you to wait. Go home. Get beaten again and again. Get raped every night. On and on and on.

Clean up your blood from the tiles. Clean it from the carpet. Hydrogen peroxide and not bleach. Cover the bruises up with color corrector first before you put concealer over them.

Smile and tell everyone that your husband and you are perfectly happy. There will be a pup on the way soon enough, I'm so lucky to have someone who supports me, and I'm so lucky to have a love like this.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Go to sleep and don't cry because then he'll beat you for keeping him awake.

In the darkness that curls around you. Blood going tacky between your legs, you start to dream of wicked sweet things.

What you've been through would be enough to make anyone go crazy, Enough to make anyone consider drastic action. Enough to make anyone consider murder.

Enough for you to slide a pair of small syringes off of Moonbyul’s night desk and a small packet of arsenic too. You know how to make a simple syrup. You know how to mix in arsenic to it, how to make it liquid soluble without breathing it in.

You make it in the fine china and break it after so that you can throw it out without worrying. You get a beating for it but you hardly feel it when Geumjae drags you across the floor by your hair. It hardly breaks your heart when he steps on your ribcage with the intent to break bones because you know what you have to do.

After, with your own blood on your teeth, you make sure to leave it in the bottom of the trash, and ask the cleaning staff not to take it out yet. They're supposed to find it.

You don't care if you die, you just want to make sure the necessary villains are punished. When it comes to blame the person who is most to blame is you anyway. You are simply numb to pain, numb to your own anguish. Numb to the idea of your own death too. Geumjae's already killed you in every way that matters.

Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite; give a girl an enemy and she'll do dangerous things.

Your meetings with the Don and beta always go the same; gossip, and greetings. Sometimes when you come bearing bruises, they tell you to wait just a little longer.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Just give it time for his temper to settle. Once you're mated it will get better.

Even Moonbyul and Hyejin tell you that planning the perfect crime takes time. That you'll be saved if you only wait. Help is coming.

Bullshit.

You’re tired of waiting for him to kill you, you're tired of waiting to die. You're smarter than all of them because you know exactly how to get everything you want and you're willing to do anything to get it.

The next time Moonbyul and Hyejin take you to the Don and Beta’s house under the guise of afternoon tea, you are prepared for war and dressed with revenge in mind. Your white dress knotted at the shoulders falling in a heavenly sheet, like an avenging angel, neither pious nor sinful.

You are a force of nature and nature does not ask when it takes lives.

What’s worse; the people that enable the abusers or the abusers themselves? Who is more to blame for the pain caused?

You are no longer hiding and you won't let them hide this time. The bruise on your cheek is purple and mottled, the rings of bruises on your wrists from his hands while he held you down.

When you smiled at Geumjae over breakfast this morning, there was only one thought in your mind.

You’re next.

Your agency looks like this; elegantly done hair your skirt a little short for fall. A basket of arsenic-backed goods in a basket as is usual. Fluffy pink cupcakes with the perfect Swiss meringue buttercream in little spirals.

A gentle smile at the beta when she opens her doors for you, letting the monster in, because you’ve been over enough times that she trusts you. You suppose that's your doing too, you've fooled her into thinking you're just another idiot girl who decided to marry rich and didn't bother to consider the strings attached. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, you bare your teeth when you smile.

Hyejin has helped on that front; over the past few months, she has taught you exactly the kind of conversation that the beta likes- the useless conversations about family drama, the small little bits that you let through about your husband’s opinion on which pup is marrying whom, which alpha is good or bad for the packs near dozen omega pups that aren’t mated yet. Which alphas are likely to be a liability? This kind of gossip is all information and strategy.

You might have lied in your call to her and told her you were fearful of one of the younger ones- and a conversation you’d happened to witness on a street corner, a shadowy figure that looked a little too severe not to be the authorities. Of course, these kinds of things have to be handled with discretion and ginseng tea.

The Don does not bother to turn down the TV when you walk in, sitting vulnerable in his recliner with his feet up. It doesn’t appear that he has any sort of inclination or plans to interact with you when you sit here at his kitchen table and talk. Instead, he lounges and watches his sports, loud because his hearing is so bad, nearly deafening.

It’s good. hopefully anyone nearby will not overhear.

You hope that if this goes south before you have a chance to confess that they find the letter you wrote at home; the one that says your husband is the one that put you up to this.

You know that the pack’s retribution will be swift, that any sort of alibi he has will be null and void with the evidence you’ve been leaving. A little trail of breadcrumbs that leads right into a pretty little grave for your husband. Even if you won't be around to see it.

You're already a friend of pain. You already find comfort in it. If they kill you (which they will) then at least it will finally be over.

You wait until the moment you know is coming, when the Don looks over his shoulder at you and comands “Be a dear and bring me one.”

You put one of your artfully created confections on a pretty gold-rimed plate and walk to his side, you lean over to put it in his lap as he indicates. the same way he does every time you come over with sweets.

The lingering hand on your ass is hardly abnormal. behind you the beta's tea cup clinks as she sets her tea down and says nothing. even though you know she notices.

He’s so busy coping a feel he doesn’t notice your other hand, going to the syringe duck taped to your thigh.

It happens quicker than the Don can blink. The most powerful man in the underworld can't be bothered to protect his life for a pretty little piece of ass. You smile down at him, and his hand squeezes the round apple of your behind.

His hand is still on your ass when you whip your arm around with as much force as you can and drive the syringe and plunger into his neck.

You must have hit something in his neck because he barely has a second to splutter before he’s going still and quiet. Mouth falling horrifyingly slack. His breath rattles and his eyes dart as his whole body is paralyzed near instantly, in the time it takes for his blood to circulate.

Two paces, swing, plunge.

The beta barely has a second to scream or stand to attack you. You are so much younger than they are. Your body might be fragile and frail but It’s still stronger than hers. Her brief scream is easily drowned out by the scratch of the TV.

She ends up on the floor, the icing on the cupcakes sticky as she falls into half of them, tossed onto the floor by your brief tussle as you straddle her struggling form. Her pushing gets weaker and weaker and she sobs.

It doesn’t surprise you when you see the black tracery of a dying mating mark itching up her skin.

One thing that the family had always been oh so careful of was to talk only in their mother tongue around you. Secrets are best kept when they’re spoken in foreign tongues. It was a way to isolate you. To make them speak English for you to understand felt like a beholden request. At one point It was a point of insecurity for you, always left out of the loop, always relying on your husband to keep you in the know.

You bend over her as her pushing gets weaker and weaker, the arsenic doing its job, causing numbness and the tingling of extremities before it causes paralysis and then coma and death. Your hair falls in a sheet over the beta’s face.

You’ve studied much over the last few months. Enough that you lean in close over her and speak your words in perfect Korean.

“You look so angry,” you croon softly, dragging a finger down her cheek. Spittle froths at her mouth as she breathes heavily. “You shouldn’t- if you want someone to blame you only need to look in the mirror.”

You lean in close until your lips brush her ear, “it's your fault you see- you're the one who lied" you mimic her voice, making it scratchy, "'just wait a little longer, it will be better for the family if you stay quiet." you laugh, "as if that where true, the only person it benefits is you. You where ready to let him hurt me and kill me if i just stayed quiet."

You wipe away a bit of spit from her lower lip, "You always told me how it was your duty to protect the family- but you only serve yourself. If you'd have done something, if you'd have helped me I wouldn't have had to do this. You just wanted me to shut up and die quietly.”

You switch back to English, “Well now it’s your turn.”

You watch her tongue go numb, paralyzed, but the poison hasn’t advanced far enough for her not to speak.

“Fucking- worthless bitch.”

You laugh and stand brushing some crumbs from your skirt. She’s already too weak to move, to shout, or fight you. You watch the light start to leave her eyes, winking out so slowly, like a dying star. But she still looks so pissed.

“You don’t have a right to be angry, you killed me first. You can’t blame me for fighting back.”

She gives her last breath and the TV plays on. Your shoe ticks her hand, her fingers twitching weakly. You watch as she gasps her last breath, a small smile on your face.

You sit at the table and turn the TV down. You wait a few minutes, but it quickly becomes an hour. You have yourself a nice little treat while you watch, turning the channel to a food network while you eat.

You really are a fantastic cook. The crumb on this batch is so nice you don’t even taste the metallic tang of poison. You eat through one, and then another, until the whole basket is empty.

Before you know it there is a concerned knock at the door. The lock clicks and turns when you answer it.

When Moonbyul opens the door, you laugh at the expression on her face. Licking the frosting from your lips. Even that is delicious.

She takes in their bodies, crumpled on the floor the frosting on your cheeks. The evidence. Both of them dying. A violence you cannot undo.

Her voice is somber. “Oh Pup, what have you done?”

~-~

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Notes:

this chapter is a very classic bily chapter, in the fact that there is a fuck ton of fluff and then bang the mafia bits just take you out. we needed to get back into the mafia bits of the story sooner rather than later though 💀

i felt like i was going a little too over the top with certain bits of puptalk in this chapter, but i really wanted to use it to show that like yeah- the pack has been treating her alot more gently since her breakdown, they've been babbying the fuck out of her, even if we don't get to see it :(

Hobi's texts are so???? Fucking cute?? He's so hopeless my god he wants to make her feel loved without actually saying it and i hope you read them and just go "oh, you're an idiot."

I have this whole elaborate backstory to how wonho's gym works with monthly subscriptions to classes where people can decide how many classes they want to take a week, ie gym dues for facilities and then discounted classes on top if they pay for it before hand, with several tiers.

this chapter almost feels clerical- this is definitely more of a set up chapter- where i needed to check off a lot of boxes, like hobi's courting present- before we go any further into the story. things are going to start amping up in terms of stakes pretty quickly.

That one part, where hobi is kinda malfunctioning after the m/c touches his cheek and everyone teases him feels the most representative of the pack as a whole. like that part where they're all replying- feels very real. i struggle a little to capture a sense of domesticity in concise ways, but i think this part is very tidy.

That little touch with hobi- where he touches her wrist and her finger, that touch has so much weight to it, i personally think the whole pack was tasting the sexual tension on the air, can you guys feel it too or is it all in my head?

idk why yoongi calling tae babygirl makes me so flustered but it does 🥵

i really wanted to work calling tae mommy into the chapter someway but tbh this chapter felt complex enough without it.

there is like- one plot hole in this whole story, and that is in the first chapter of the story when yoongi gets a call the person on the other line says "grandfather is dying." implying that his death wasn't instantaneous like this is shown to be. however, in my mind- the injections don't actually kill the don and beta but plunge them into a coma that they never wake up from- is this an actual possibility with arsenic poisoning- NO IT ISN'T lol, you're just going to have to suspend your disbelief for me.

the m/c has always been the person who killed the don and the beta- i've known this since like...maybe the 4th chapter? it wasn't in the og og plan for the story but almost everything in bily has been hammered out since then. and tbh you already knew she killed them just not that it was this violent! does this count as a secret???? idk! maybe!!!

she's a little murder baby just like minnie <3

💜💜💜

ONCE, FOREVER (unsure fate)

"We let you leave once, but now we're keeping you forever".

"Please, we worked so hard to change for you, come back?".

CHAPTERS: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , ...

NAMJIN X READER

NORMAL LIFE AU

M/F , MULTI

RATED M

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