author’s note: any and all creations made by user: btsydtrash (also known as haveagreatday on ao3) are works of absolute fiction. nothing mentioned should be related to the boys in real life. respect the privacy of the members and enjoy fiction as fiction. thank you, cuties!
any questions about story lore or headcanons, just shoot me a dm and we can talk about it, if it doesn’t give spoilers for later content. also, any stories marked [complete] will not be edited or added to.
I do not have any tag lists for any of my stories.
I update once a month.
OT7 X Reader
Euphoric Endeavors (vampire bts x student yn) 💘🌧🔞🔪
Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus’ most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth.
Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger.
It’s too bad that they can’t seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.
(angst / smut / yandere / fluff / gore)
Masterlist / i dont have a tag list / find me on twitter / word count: 5.06k
(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. But, I decided to post it on here. I have almost 50 chapters of this story up over there, so I’ll slowly be adding them onto here too)
tw: mentions of physical abuse, abandonment issues, allusions to masturbation, anger issues
Waking up the next morning, the last thing you expect to see is a wall of honeyed skin bracketing you in place.
Hoseok’s sleep-slack face is above you. The older man is laying on his stomach, one arm bent so his cheek can rest on it, the other stiff by his side. You notice, idly, that he looks infinitely younger when he’s asleep. There’s no bravado here, just him, resting, relaxed – at peace – and you wish you could see the sight every day, considering how beautiful he is.
Unconsciously, you catalogue his features, burning the slightly pointed tip of his nose in your brain. His high cheekbones and sleep-swollen lips imprint themselves in your head, and you couldn’t forget this sight even if you tried. His lashes are dark and long, and his hair is a mess of curls atop his head, exposing his forehead. He had put a headband in, apparently to keep the strands from his eyes.
Entranced, you reach up, barely touching his skin, to trace from the corner of his eye to his jaw, reverence practically shining in your eyes. He sniffs in his sleep, burrowing deeper into the safety of his arms
“Are you awake now?” A rough voice asks from behind you, making you jump out of your skin. Yoongi is staring at you from where he had been laying, content to just watch you sleep. When you had woken up, you had twisted away from him, making him pout childishly. Now, though, your attention was back on him, his lips quirk up in a private smile as he remarks, playfully, “You look like you had a good night.”
“My head hurts,” you complain, pathetically, wanting to cover your eyes with your hands. You ask, frowning slightly in confusion, “How did I get here? Why am I in bed with you guys?”
You don’t feel even remotely unsafe, but the fact that the last thing you remember is jumping onto Jungkook’s back in the back yard is disconcerting.
“You’re awfully clingy when you get drunk,” Yoongi remarks, light-heartedly. He sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist, and you notice that his shirt is too big, showing off the pale expanse of his collarbone and shoulder. It makes your mouth feel drier than before. “You wouldn’t let Hobi go to sleep on the couch, so he spent the night in bed with you.”
With burning ears, you feel yourself frown. You really ought to stop drinking so much.
Still… something about the set up of the bed makes you snicker.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re in bed with us too,” you remark.
He shrugs, expression passive. “It looked comfortable.”
“And, was it?” You enquire, rolling onto your side to glance up at him. “Comfortable, I mean.”
He glances at you, meaning imbued heavily in his gaze, and he nods. “Very.”
Cheeks pinking quickly, you drop your eyes to his shirt and you finger the smooth material, to distract yourself. “Is this Joonie’s shirt?”
He looks down at it, pulling it away from his body, before sleepily nodding. His eyes are puffy, almost half-way closed, but he seems well-rested, still floating contentedly in the vestiges of slumber. He explains, “We always wear each other’s stuff. No big.”
Feeling somewhat envious, you simply nod and move to sit up too. Hoseok’s grip tightens on your waist and he makes a noise of dissent in his sleep, brow instantly furrowing.
“He’s just as clingy as you are,” Yoongi says, a rough chuckle tumbling from his lips. He slides out of bed, scratching his scalp, messing up his already chaotic blond nest and mumbles, “I’ll go get you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to, Yoon,” you reply, cosying up to Hobi. You feel like being lazy and being so close to the dancer’s warmth makes your stomach-ache feel more manageable. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
The blond snorts, giving you an uninterested look that has you shutting up with an audible clack of your jaw. He rests his knee on the bed to press a finger to your nose, mischievously, before he comments, lightly, “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to, sweetheart.”
And then he’s gone, backing out of your space and disappearing to the kitchen to whip up a quick breakfast for you to eat in bed.
Hoseok makes a soft noise in his sleep, like a mix between a sigh and a groan, before he snuggles up closer to you, so your back is flush with his chest, arm tossed over your middle. You relax into his hold, letting the soft puffs of his breath against your ear lull you back under the fuzzy blanket of exhaustion. You feel yourself succumbing to the urge to fall into your own dreams once more…
That is, until you tense up all over when you feel something hard and hot poke in your lower back.
Jerking away from the throbbing heat, you feel your face flood, instantly, in embarrassment. You curse yourself for being so skittish, but you aren’t used to being in such an intimate setting with another body, used to a quick and mostly unsatisfying romp in the sheets, followed by a swift exit and an awkward Uber ride back to your dorm room. This, however, feels intimate.
You think, mind whirring, it’s just the morning, he can’t help it. It’s perfectly natural. You’re the one making it weird. Just get up normally and he’ll let you g-
“Don’t move so much,” Hoseok grumbles, voice thick and rough and so deep with sleep that you feel tingles break out all over your body. His grip only tightens fractionally around your middle and you feel him pull himself closer to you, if that’s even possible. “You’re so warm, sunshine.”
“Mphm, Hobi,” you grumble, struggling to worm your way out of his steel-like grip. For someone who’s half-asleep, he sure likes to hold on tight. You feel bad for the plushies that Joon says he steals off his bed. You say, quickly, trying to avoid rubbing against his arousal, “I need to pee!”
“Liar,” he whispers against the skin of your shoulder, dry lips pressing briefly against your skin, so light that it feels as if he’s kissing you. He still sounds out of it, disorientated even. “You just want to leave me.”
Huffing, you wiggle harder, actively pulling yourself away from him, but he only lets out a growl of disapproval. You say, “When you wake up properly, you’re going to be so embarrassed.”
“Nothin’ to be ‘barrassed about,” he sulks, nosing into your neck, as if burrowing for more warmth. “’s normal for me to hold you like this.”
That’s where you snap, nails gripping into the meat of his forearm and shake him.
“Pressing your hard dick into my back is the antithesis of normal, Hobi,” you snap.
At that, he lets you go as if your body had just spontaneously combusted, nearly throwing himself away from you, a wall of cold air replacing the blanket of warmth that you had just been swaddled in. You barely have time to miss the feeling before you see his face crack into something you could only liken to horror.
“’m sorry!” He stammers, sitting up but covering himself with a pillow, cheeks so ruddy that you are sure that if you touched them, they would be burning with warmth. He mutters, twisting his fingers in the deep green covers, “It’s morning and I- I wasn’t thinking.”
Feeling guilty over his embarrassed appearance, you say, “It’s fine. No harm, no foul.”
He slides out of bed, shivering a little at the cold of the bedroom, before jerking his thumb to the bathroom, awkwardly. He avoids your eyes as he mumbles, “I’ll go, uh, take care of this.”
If you didn’t think your cheeks could burn any hotter, you were wrong.
“Jerk!” You toss the plushie at his head, which he ducks out of and, giggling, disappears into the bathroom.
The shower flicks on in the distance and you drown out the potential sounds of the bathroom by getting out of bed and exploring the house. Your head aches, but there’s two tablets and a bottle of water on the bedside table that you neck down instantly.
“Thanks for the medication, Yoon,” you say, softly, as you walk into the kitchen. The blond had been standing at the sink, his slender back facing you, draped in a mass of material and his narrow waist hidden from your sight, as he chewed listlessly on some of Taehyung’s mango chips.
He offers you the bag with a small smile and the two of you giggle, remembering the time Tae almost killed you in the backseat because you ate them all without asking. Well, Yoongi took most of the blame, but you definitely enjoyed more than your fair share.
“Sit with me while I cook,” he declares, and even though it should sound like a question, you wouldn’t be able to deny him even if you tried.
You hop onto the sideboard and kick your feet as you watch him expertly flit around the kitchen, snapping off the yellow washing up gloves after he had finished hand-washing the mess from last night and moving to the oven. Open flames burst from the hob and within minutes, he has a mass of bubbling hobs on the go, without issue.
“There’s a reason why I’m not allowed in the kitchen by myself,” you joke. “I would have burned myself to high hell already.”
He glances your way, briefly. “You don’t cook at all?”
“I try,” you say, before tossing another mango chip into your mouth. “My Mom says I’m hopeless with anything domestic.”
“That’s okay,” he answers, unbothered. “I’ll teach you. And anything I can’t teach you, I’ll do for you. There – no problem.”
You don’t know why but his words make your stomach feel as if a medley of butterflies had just been released and you can barely hide your smile before you ask, “Can you sew?”
“For that, you’ll have to ask Jiminie,” he says, begrudgingly. “He’s always been the one to adjust our clothes since we were kids.”
You inquire, curiosity piqued – the idea of a mini-Jimin sewing up holes in the knees of Joon’s scruffy jeans, or the split seams of Jin’s shirts when he started growing too big for his clothes, making you coo internally. “Who taught him?”
“My Mom did,” a voice calls from the hallway. Jimin saunters into the room, already dressed, hair still damp and a towel draped around his shoulders. He looks at you, eyes bright with concern. “Are you feeling better? I heard our baby got too drunk last night.”
The nickname doesn’t even give you pause anymore, considering the medley of monikers they’ve given you against your will. Despite the fact that you’re actually older than Taehyung and Jungkook, and therefore the furthest from the baby of the group, you feel warmed by the pet name.
Pouting, you nod. “I feel much better. Yoon made sure I got tablets, and he cuddled me last night. Hobi, too. It was nice.”
“And I missed out on that?” He asks, quirking his brow as he approaches you. He nudges your knees apart in a surprisingly daring act, and wraps his arms around your middle, pressing his nose to your collar. “You smell like hyung.”
“I did sleep in his bed,” you mutter, shyly. Unable to stop yourself, you grab the tail end of the damp towel and sop up the trails of water that have dripped from his hair and lead down the neck of his shirt. You complain, “You’re going to catch a cold.”
“You’ll keep me warm,” he murmurs against your skin. “Sleep with me tonight, won’t you, YN?”
Yoongi snorts from where he’s frying some kimchi pancakes in the small pan. “Now that you’ve started this tradition, I hope you don’t plan on sleeping alone any time soon, YN.”
Jimin huffs at him. “Don’t start, hyung. You got to sleep with her, so did Hobi-hyung. And Joonie got to sleep in her room. I haven’t even been in her room. You guys are being so unfair.”
He’s practically stamping his bare feet on the linoleum before you let out a light giggle at his childish, bratty antics. “Fine, fine. I’ll sleep with you tonight. I hope you don’t mind that I talk in my sleep.”
He looks at you, skin glistening and smelling faintly of aloe and eucalyptus, directly into your eyes, holding your gaze for a beat. “As long as you’re with me, honey, I won’t mind if you do anything.”
////
After breakfast in bed with Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi all piled around you like a pack of baby bears, watching one of Hoseok’s shows on Netflix (“Shut up, Jimin! If I miss any more of this because of your infernal mouth-breathing, I’m going to shave your eyebrows off. Again!”), you find yourself being whisked away by a well-dressed Jin.
“I’ve got a meeting with my father,” he says, once you make a face at his expensive suit and tie, even though it’s definitely Saturday and it isn’t even noon. “Do I meet your expectations, petal?”
You roll your eyes at his smug expression, but you nod, excitedly. “You really do look like an idol.”
“God didn’t give me this face for no reason,” he says, gesturing to his puffy lips with a wink. “Isn’t that Jungkook’s shirt?”
You look down at the button up that you had been handed by a sleepy Taehyung (really, he’d shoved it into your hands before he fell back asleep in your lap, dribbling into the crease of your thigh), and nod, vaguely. “Maybe?”
“It smells like him,” he comments, lips turning down. “I should have given you my shirt. Quick, YN. Get changed into mine.”
“Why?” You ask, laughing at his conspiratorial look. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I just- I want you to smell like me, is all,” he replies, pouting. “You spend so much time with the others… I don’t get to be with you as much.”
You move to deny his statement, but honestly, you can’t. You say, reaching for the sleeve of his blazer, “How about… After your meeting, how about we go for some food together? Just us?”
The way his eyes glitter at your words makes it all worth it. Despite the rolling of your stomach, the brilliance of his smile makes you feel as if you had somehow saved the nation.
“Let’s go, YN,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the apartment. He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole drive to his Dad’s building, holding it over the console, running his thumb along the seam of your index finger, only letting you go to change gears, before swiftly knitting your fingers back together, as if it had always belonged there.
Arriving at his father’s building, you feel significantly out of your depth.
“It’s huge, right?” The tall man says, staring up at the skyrise with barely concealed repugnance in his eyes. “Just being here brings my mood down. Knowing it exists makes me feel sick.”
You let out a soft sigh, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He looks down at you, as if realising you’re still by his side. “I’ll be here for you, you do know that, right?”
He lets out a barely-there smile before setting his jaw. “I’ll be back out in an hour or so. You can sleep in the backseat, if you want.”
“I’m not coming in?”
He looks over at you, surprise raising his brows to nearly his hairline. “You want to meet my father?”
“I mean… I’m not opposed to it,” you mumble, feeling strangely put out. “You don’t want me to meet him?”
His smile dims slightly. “I want a lot of things, petal. I can’t get all of them.”
Then, he’s off, jaw hard and his expression so distant that it makes your heart clench in your chest.
You grab your phone and fire off a text to the only person you can think to ask.
Joonie… Jin and his dad have a bad relationship, right?
He replies within moments. Is he with him now?
He just left for the meeting.
Shit… Okay, after the meeting, he might be a little scary to you, or distant. But he doesn’t mean it, okay? His Dad brings out the worst in him.
Can I ask why?
Jin-hyung is the only one who can tell you that, baby girl.
Okay. Thank you for being honest.
Anything for you.
Deciding to sleep rather than stress out over the occurrences in the room hundreds of meters in the air, you slide off your shoes and curl up, using your coat as a blanket. You don’t think Jin will be back for a while, so with that thought in mind, you end up drifting off, the image of a happier, content Seokjin being the last thing you see.
/
The door slams open and closed with such force, the car shakes, waking you with a start. You look over, eyes still bleary with sleep, to see a murderous-looking Jin, eyes black with rage and his jaw wound so taut, you’re sure it hurts.
“Jin-”
“Not now,” he growls, tone clipped and ice-cold.
The sight and sound of him makes your jaw snap closed, shoulders stiffened with discomfort and, honestly, a small bit of fear. You care for Jin, a lot more than you feel is normal, but this side of him, you aren’t used to.
He glances at you, briefly, before letting out a soft sigh, wincing at the sight of you – withdrawing from him. He reaches across the console, and with a quick squeeze of your hand, he says, quieter, “Please, YN. I don’t want to take it out on you, so just… give me some time, okay?”
You nod. “Okay.”
His eyes plead with you to understand. “Petal…”
“I’m giving you space, Jin,” you say, removing your hand from his and curling it in your lap, the skin burning.
He sighs, returning his hand to the steering wheel and pulling away from the building. Although you are moving away from the cause of his stress, it feels as if the stiffness in the air only grows the longer you are both in the car. Rather than moving towards the dorm, you realise that Jin is driving you in a direction that you’ve never been before.
“What-” You catch yourself before you make another mistake by bothering him, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring, obstinately, out of the front window. You drive and drive and drive, until you start to feel sleepy again. And it’s only when you actually do drift off that he puts the car into park and you hear him shift his body to face you. You glance around – you’re in a fairly empty car park atop a hill, overlooking the Seoul mid-afternoon skyline. You can imagine that it would be awfully beautiful at night.
“Can you look at me, petal?”
You refuse, staring straight ahead.
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Please, YN.”
A small part of your anger melts at the way he says your name.
He twists his hands in his lap, nervously, and shifts in his seat. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“Then, you shouldn’t have spoken to me like that,” you reply, simply. “I didn’t realise me being here would have put you in such a bad mood. I wouldn’t have come if I knew.”
“Don’t say that,” he implores, weakly. “I always want you around.”
“Sure, you do,” you sass back.
He reaches, limply, for your wrist, and you against your better judgement and bruised ego, you let him take it.
“You’re so precious to me, to all of us. I just-” He lets out a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, holding onto you like a lifeline. “Sometimes, I wish I had never been born.”
This piques your interest, having never experienced this side of him. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t meet your eyes, simply choosing to focus on the veins beneath your skin, tracking them obsessively with his eyes. Not in hunger, but as a reminder that you are here, that you are present and with him in the moment.
He continues, “I’ve always been the oldest of our cluster, meaning I had a lot of responsibilities from a young age, like most hyungs do. I did what I had to do, I loved my little brothers and cared for my cluster, following Namjoon’s orders and being the best I can be. But… Why is it never enough, YN?”
You turn to him now, brow puckering as his eyes lose focus and he becomes consumed with his thoughts.
“Why is it never enough for him? Nothing I do, nothing I say. It’s always nothing but shit to him. He looks at me like he wishes I were dead,” he says, and the honesty in his expression blows a hole in your chest. You feel as if he’s ripped your heart out with his bare hands. You knit your fingers with his, shuffling forward slightly so your knees are touching.
“I told you my brother is supposed to be CEO of the company in my father’s stead, right? Well, that’s unlikely to happen, considering he’s busy fucking through half of Europe, blowing our Dad’s money on hookers and expensive blood stimulant drugs. He won’t have to take that responsibility until he’s ready, just because he’s the oldest. But me? I’m forced to go to a university I hate, study a degree I despise for a man I would much rather never see again.”
“Jinnie…”
“He never sees my brother as in the wrong, no matter what he does,” he complains, grip tight on your hand. “But me, if I get anything less than a hundred on a test, or if I miss class because I have to work because I would rather starve than take his fucking money, I won’t hear the end of it for days.”
“He tears me down until there’s nothing left,” he growls. “He makes me so angry, and then I do the same thing that he always does. I get distant. I feel nothing inside, because that’s better than feeling everything and breaking down so pathetically like this.”
“You aren’t pathetic, Jin,” you tell him, pushing some of his dark hair out of his watery eyes. “You’re so strong and so important to me. To all of us.”
He lets out a shaky breath, hands trembling. “Just living in that apartment, knowing that he’ll willingly throw it back in my face, makes me so angry. But I do it. Because the boys need somewhere to live. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let them suffer because of my stupid pride.”
He cards a hand through his hair, forehead damp with sweat. He’s overwhelming himself into a panic.
“I hate him, YN. I hate how he never acknowledges anything that I do. I hate how he always takes my brother’s side,” he says, and when he finally looks at you again, his eyes are laced with pain and you practically feel his soul crying out for you. You grab his hand tighter when he chokes out a sob. “I hate that I keep wanting him to be proud of me.”
“It’s okay, Jin,” you soothe, crawling over and opening your arms for him to wrap himself around you. Patting his back, gently, you rub your hand in small, rhythmic circles, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. “It’s okay to want his approval. He’s your father, this successful mogul, and the person who you have been looking up to for your whole life. You don’t have to feel stupid for wanting him to say he’s proud of you.”
He lets out a broken whine at your words, pulling your hand to his lips as he breathes against the skin. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
You pull him in close, pressing dry kisses to his temple and letting him rest his face in the crook of your neck. The angle is awkward because he’s so much bigger than you, but he seems to need it regardless.
“You’re okay.”
“You’re safe.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You aren’t alone.”
“We care for you.”
“You’re so strong.”
You keep the one thing you can feel bursting from behind your lips to yourself, too scared to ruin the atmosphere of trust that he had given you. You feel his tears stain your shirt, but you pay it little mind. This is about Seokjin – the one person who you had always looked at as a pillar of strength and playfulness. Little did you know, there was a maelstrom of pain and anguish hidden behind his bright smile.
Once his breathing calms and the tears have dried on his cheeks, you take a good look at him, watery eyes, pink cheeks, red-raw lips from where he’d bitten them to keep the sobs at bay, and you feel your earlier displeasure dissolve into nothingness. How stupid must you have been to have held something so petty over his head when he had needed comforting so much.
“Honey…”
He scoffs, lightly, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve, staring down at his large hands. “You and Jimin are the same, only using that nickname when you feel sorry for me. Or, when you want something.”
“I’ll call you honey all the time from now on,” you promise, reaching for his hand. He looks at where your hands are joined, sniffing a little more, and your heart aches at how much of a pathetic figure he seems, all scrunched up in the corner of his car. “You can talk to me, honey.”
He groans, staring at the roof of the car. “My brother isn’t exactly business-friendly. He’d wreck my Dad’s company in a year, tops, but my father has a very traditional mindset. He thinks because hyung is older, he deserves to run the company, no matter how bad his personality is. Unfortunately, that means I’m the one who has to pick up the slack, as his younger brother.”
He turns your hands over, playing with the ring on his finger, idly. “I didn’t want to do business, you know.”
“I can tell,” you say, softly, stroking his fingers in a gesture of comfort. “What did you want to do?”
He lets out a humourless laugh. “I wanted to act.”
And, honestly. It makes sense. Jin’s personality favours the ostentatious, the bright and the loud, the melodramatics of theatre fit his persona perfectly.
You ask, “Wanted, as in past tense?”
He glances at you. “It’s not like there aren’t supernatural actors. Lee Minho is a selkie.” His eyes widen, slightly, and he murmurs, contritely, “Oh, I shouldn’t have told you that. Well, you won’t tell anyone. I trust you.”
It doesn’t even surprise you anymore, so you simply smile at his admission and continue to draw soft shapes on the back of his hand.
“The first time I saw my father laugh was the day I told him I wanted to act,” he says, resentfully. “He said that there was no way someone as uninteresting as me could entertain anyone. He said that I should only focus on what I was good at – studies – and that I should throw my stupid dreams of acting out of my mind before he beat some sense into me.”
You decide, instantly, that you hated his Dad more than you’ve hated anyone else in your life.
Cautiously, you ask, brow puckering, “He didn’t ever… you know, hit you, did he?”
“Sometimes,” Jin replies. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it. I was a flighty kid, even more than I am now, so… Yeah.”
“Nobody deserves to get hit, Jin,” you tell him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m really… I’m just sorry this happened to you.”
He smiles, softly, and wipes his thumb across your cheek, catching a stray tear and flicking it away. “Don’t cry for me, YN. I’m made of tougher stuff.”
“I’m not,” you grumble, holding his hand a little tighter. “I’m upset for you.”
He chuckles, wetly, at your scowl, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss there. “You’re so cute.”
His smile slowly disappears as he stares out at the city in front of the two of you, hands intertwined over the console in the car, before he sits up a little straighter. “Once I graduate, I’m leaving.”
The bottom of your stomach falls out at his words, instantly, at his words.
Drawing away, slightly, you ask, “W-What do you mean ‘leaving’?”
“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” he admits, quietly. “I’ve already talked to Joonie about it, and he’s willing to let me go.”
“Seokjin.”
He looks over at you, surprised by the hard tone of your voice, and his eyes widen even more at the sight of the tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong, petal?”
“You can’t leave us,” you tell him, gripping his sleeve, as if he’s getting ready to go away now. “W-What are we supposed to do?”
“I’m not leaving forever, petal,” he says, softly, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ear. “Just a year or so. To find myself, you know? It’ll be good for me.”
You still can’t make sense of the agony rushing through your system. The idea of not seeing Jin, of not hearing his loud laugh or seeing the mop of dark hair poking out of the burrito of blankets in the living room at 3am when both of you can’t sleep. Or, holding his hand in the dark under those same sheets and feeling his slow heartbeat pulse against your ear, lulling you to sleep.
You can’t say anything, not wanting to guilt him for wanting to explore, but also being unable to force yourself to support him either.
You simply can’t imagine him being absent from your life, it just doesn’t make sense.
Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.
What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?
What happens when you find that you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?
Masterlist / i don’t have a tag list / find me on twitter / word count: 1.8k
AN: Here we go again! crime syndicate BTS X stripper yn. I’ll post this on AO3 too. Some of BTS are humans, some are hybrids. They all are obsessed with Reader. Reader is black in my headcanon.
trigger warnings: hey.... I'm back! yn is depressed. she's suffering a lot but she's not alone. nothing of significance. just needed to get this out after so long. I'll be back soon with more drama!
“Breaking News: The body of an African-American Beta hybrid was found dismembered and abandoned under a bridge in East Point. East Point is known for its houseless and opiate-dependent population. Many new strains of synthetic drugs are being released onto the streets, made accessible to vulnerable, unmated Omegas. Markings found on the body indicate the involvement of a gang widely known as the Dirty7s. The Dirty7s are an anonymous group with links to…”
The TV drones on in the background but you don’t hear it. Well, you can’t hear it. You hadn’t been paying much attention to anything for the last few days. How many? You’ve got no idea. It’s been enough for your hair to start smelling bad anyway.
You walk out of the bathroom, dropping the towel as you go, grabbing the big t-shirt with Thandi’s face on it and pulling it on. You had gotten a couple from the funeral from Thandi’s mom. She had made them, gotten them pressed at a local tailor’s place to raise some money for the funeral. You knew how expensive it was to die. Flashes of your mothers face fly in front of your eyes before you can stop it and they make you wince. You tried to pay but Thandi’s mom had refused your money. “My Thandi told me all about you,” she had said, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, but you didn’t complain. In fact, the sting-burn sensation grounded you, and you felt yourself get lost in her deep, knowledgable eyes. She might have just lost her daughter, but it seems as if she had already experienced a lifetime’s worth of pain. It made you ache. “You… You were her friend. She loved you so much.”
And then you felt it again, the guilt-driven nausea.
It was the first time you met her mom, but you knew all about her daughter, Sana. The young girl, only eight years old, stood solitarily, as the preacher droned on and on about ‘eternal bliss’ and ‘blessed memories’ and ‘living on in memory’. The expression on her face, you knew it so well. It was as if nothing was making sense to her mind. She was so sad, so lost, so lonely. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her throughout the funeral. She looked around at all of the people at her mother’s funeral, curious yet careful, quiet and withdrawn, before turning her eyes to the coffin at the front of the church and biting down on her bottom lip. She didn’t make a sound, not a peep - the whole time.
They opted for a closed casket because well… What other option was there? The truth of Thandi’s death wasn’t lost on the participants of her funeral but it was bad manners to bring it up. The thought alone was enough to bring bile to your throat so fast, it made your head spin. You rush to the bathroom and spit up in the toilet. Just a little bit this time, thankfully. You swill your mouth out and walk to grab something from the refrigerator. It took you days to realize that someone had come into your apartment while you had been at the funeral and had fixed certain things.
The fridge had been filled. The pile of dishes washed. The laundry had been taken and washed and returned all clean and folded. The bed had been spread. The rug had been moved around and vacuumed. The bathroom had been straightened out.
Once you had come to your senses, you burst into grateful tears.
You knew who it was.
He had left a t-shirt of his, saturated in his scent and so big it drowned your body in material, in your closet for you to sleep in.
You take a glance at the t-shirt again, wrapped around a big pillow on your bed, and you sigh, getting into bed once more, hair still damp at the roots of your head.
Your phone lay on the table beside your bed, silent but charging, and you take a second to look at it before you grab it and make a call.
It doesn’t ring but for two times before you hear his voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello, YN,” Jungkook says, quietly.
You don’t answer. You can’t find your mouth, you can’t feel it well. Your tongue feels fuzzy and heavy, like a weight is sitting on it.
“YN…?”
Jungkook pauses slightly before the sound of him shifting his weight comes through the receiver.
He asks, softly, “Do you need me?”
You are still quiet, but you let out a light sigh through your nose. It’s the loudest you’ve been in days.
No. I don’t need anyone, you want to say. But again, more silence. Your tongue is too heavy. Your stomach is rolling and your head feels all loopy. You can't imagine where all these good hormones are coming from, flooding your system with flickers of light and ease and warmth and syrupy goodness.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, gently. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need.”
Another sigh.
He takes a moment to think before he says, a certain chipperness in his tone, “Shall I tell you about my day, Pretty?”
A final sigh, and you turn over to your side, phone pressed to your cheek. If you were more present in your body, it probably would hurt.
Jungkook sounds as if he reclines in his seat as he begins telling you all about his day.
“It’s been mostly boring. I woke up at 5:30. I went to the gym for a couple of hours. I boxed and ran and did some weights. I think I could press three of you, you know, Pretty? You're so little compared to me. Sorry. I got distracted. Then, I showered and ate breakfast with Tae. You haven’t met him yet, right? I think you’d like him. A lot. Anyway. After, I met Jimin for some work-related stuff. Very boring. Do you want me to tell you about it, Pretty?”
He doesn’t let you get a sigh out before he continues.
“I didn’t think so. Then, after hours of back and forth, I went to go pick up my suit. We have a fancy dinner to go to this weekend. It’s Jin-hyung’s birthday.”
His voice gets all syrupy and warm, and it twists and rolls in your stomach all hot and uncomfortable. Why does his happiness make you feel so bothered?
“-and after we finish at DeMaggio’s, Joonie-hyung says we’re going on a helicopter ride around the city. Would you like to do that one day? Should I invite you? I can do that, you know. I don’t think Hyung would mind.”
The thought alone makes you snort.
He pauses and then, when he talks again, his voice seems relieved.
“You laughed, Pretty.”
You blink, somewhat surprised. He wasn’t lying. You did laugh, breathy and weak as it was.
“Pretty, you know I miss you so much, right?”
You close your eyes tightly at his words, lip getting sucked between your teeth.
He takes a moment to ask, quietly, almost needy, “Do you miss me?”
Your throat gets all tight and thick, and you feel horrible all over again. He hears you choke on something, because his voice gets all flighty, worried and concerned over the phone, as he peppers you with soft words.
“You don’t have to say it.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Please, don’t cry.”
“You’re breaking my heart.”
And then, he pauses and says the one thing you both craved and dreaded to hear.
“She wouldn’t want you to be this angry with yourself,” he says. Then, with more confidence, he claims, “You’re allowed to be happy.”
You cut off the phone before the sobs take over once more.
////
Jungkook taps the edge of his phone on the table a few times before he curses to himself. The wolf glances up from his spot in the corner of Yoongi’s office and asks, “You think I pushed her too much?”
Yoongi looks over the top of his book and remarks, “It isn’t the end of the world, Kookie. Relax. You did a good job with the cleaner. She probably is sleeping next to the t-shirt you gave her and she called you, of all people she could’ve called.”
Jungkook bites his bottom lip and admits, “I’m getting frustrated.”
Yoongi pushes, lightly, “With?”
He puts the book to the side, knowing full well that he wasn’t getting any more ‘him-time’ while the wolf was occupying his personal office in their home. He loved each of his brothers dearly, however… Fuck, he needed his own place sometimes.
“Being patient,” the wolf explains, glibly. “It’s all so fucking boring.”
“Then occupy yourself with things that matter,” Yoongi suggests, moving to his feet. “I think Tae might be done with the guy downstairs, if you want a turn to pummel something moving?”
“The fucker’s still alive? Tae’s losing his touch,” Jungkook remarks, amusedly. He wasn’t lying. Usually, Tae would have had him chopped into tiny pieces and thrown into a river or incinerated. Jungkook wonders why he’s taking his time.
Yoongi snorts, pushing his glasses into his hair. He only needs them when his eyes start to get dry, like now. He usually didn’t use his other form, preferring to be in his natural hybrid state when in the comfort of their own home, but he’s been testing his personal limits recently, worried that he might freak YN out with his skin, his eyes, his tongue… She was prey, at the end of the day. He probably should have the lights off but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “Not even. Jin won’t let him die. He keeps zapping him with the AFIB machine. I heard he shitted himself.”
“Well, he shouldn’t have been fucking around, pretending to be something he’s not,” Jungkook replies, an annoyed look passing over his face. The younger of the two moves to his feet and he asks, “Say, hyung.” His tone of voice catches Yoongi’s attention, so he sits up a little more in his comfy office chair, eye brow quirking so as to prompt the wolf to continue speaking. “Do you think YN will actually come to understand us?”
Yoongi pauses to mull over his answer for a few seconds before he answers, honestly, "I don’t think she has a choice.”
Jungkook acknowledges his answer with a melancholy look on his face.
Then, he glances down at his Rolex and makes a small noise of glee. “I’ve got a spare hour. I think Tae might be a little fatigued.”
Yoongi snorts before reaching back for the book. His eyes are getting awfully dry. Suddenly, the lights flick off and Jungkook glances back from his spot at the door, a narrow line of yellowed light slightly warming the room.
“Hyung, you know I always know, right?”
Yoongi scoffs. “Get the fuck out of here, pup.”
Jungkook closes the door and Yoongi finally switches back to his natural form, eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his book once more, settling comfortably into his chair.
Euphoria is so well written and the plot/storytelling is soo addictive, the downward spiral of jungkooks obsession, tae and jms interesting characters and theire dynamics with yn, the mystery behind yns past and the man shes hiding from, im obsessseddddddd
I also love how you write each characters pov differently like the way you walk the reader through jimins thought process, and jungkooks pov is slightly more poetic and dramatic bcuz thats how he thinks.
Its so intricate and how did u think of all this lolll i cant wait for future sneakpeaks🤍
I truly appreciate these compliments so much! I’m actually back into writing these days lol! And this is the truth, this time! More time for myself, more time for my hobbies! More time for my stories
how would namjoon ever be able to move on from his wife enough to get w yn i would be soo jealous of his WIFE bruh i could never
Hi! I presume you mean in Life Goes On?
So, Namjoon isn’t ready emotionally to be in a committed relationship. He’s still navigating his children, his company and his mental health which are his priorities.
However, YN shows herself to be an invaluable addition to his life and he quickly can’t seem to picture his life without her. Ergo, attachment. Ergo, feelings. Ergo, LOVE!
What's something that Ego yn does that the guys love?
I’ll go one by one!
namjoon: she watches the stars. he always finds it adorable, seeing her on the roof, trying to count the stars she can see. he ends up getting her one of those snow globes but instead of snow, it’s filled with luminescent stars.
jimin: she scrunches her nose a lot. it’s just the cutest thing, especially when she’s trying to hold back some kind of sarcastic comment. it always makes him bite back a giggle.
jk: she plays with his hair without thinking. thoughtlessly dragging her neat nails across his scalp, calming him instantly. he could fall asleep to it anywhere. (he pays for her to get her nails done twice a month just so she can do it more often)
tae: twirls the end of his tail around her finger. it’s sensual, most of the time, for him, but it’s a comfort for her. she doesn’t even realise what she’s doing half of the time (the other half, though, she’s mission-orientated)
yoongi: when she sleeps next to him, she taps out the rhythm of his heartrate against his back. he usually can’t sleep well with people around, hyper-aware of their presence and the danger he might be in, but he always does whenever she does that for him.
hobi: she writes notes and hides them around his room. he can scent her a mile off, so he always knows when she’s been in there, and he spends a couple hours chasing her smell around his bedroom and their apartment to find her letters. she only gets to surprise him once or twice.
jin: she talks to herself. like he does. she never even realises she’s doing it (he loves it so much that he hides a camera in the room she stays in at their place that she eventually finds - he’s a voyeur, he can’t help it - so he can watch her talk to herself all the time). he pretends he’s talking back to her and gets good at reading her lips.
(I just saw a couples questions post on my dash and thought it would be fun to send some 💓)
1. How would you describe each of the boys + Yn in three words, Moni?
2. And how would they describe themselves in three words?
3. Who are most to least likely to steal the covers at night?
- Euphoric Endeavours
this one might be long so can you send them as three messages please? so I can dedicate a reply to each of them?
(if anyone has multiple questions that they want answers to - which I LOVE! thank you so much😚💓 - pls send them as separate questions so I can answer them concisely)
(this reply is like 6 months late so I’m so sorry!)
Hi :) i was so sad last week but this week i took a walk and the forest was surreal. Like the way you see a forest when youre a kid. So i went back to my dorm did my assignment ive been stressing over and got an 100%. So i got my self sushi as a reward. And my friends were all so proud of me and congratulated me like i am a child. I feel light and free
I’m so happy to read this! Thank you for boosting my mood by telling me something positive that happened in your life. I’m so proud of you too!
I’m going! My life is just really upside down at the moment. 😫
I hope everyone is doing well? I’d really love it if anyone who sees this sends me something they’ve enjoyed doing or something they have been proud of in the last few months… I need some good energy bursts 😖
