when you're hired to design and style bts' anticipated comeback, you discover the members' powers goes far beyond their lives as influential idols...
ft. demon!min yoongi x f!reader: saja boys!au, stylist!reader, demonic elements, angst/dark romance, more warnings to come
w/c: 1.4k
---
Your heart skips a beat as the elevator dings, bringing you to your destination: floor seven of the most successful music company in South Korea and home to the renowned boy band BTS. It’s all glass walls, vaulted ceilings, and shiny marble floors. The building reeks of fame.
Time is money, you remind yourself, hurrying your pace down the hall to find the meeting room. Today is your first -- and potentially last -- day on the job, so you intend to make the most of it. The management sought you out on their own, impressed by your previous work with Selene, an indie singer-songwriter who rose to stardom after a hit song. You’d been her stylist, the collaboration built on an acquaintance made in art school years ago. It was your visual concept behind her MV that put you on the map. Brands, magazines, and celebrities were desperate for access to your cutting-edge ideas, something that was just as much of a curse as it was a blessing.
Still, turning down BTS would’ve been out of the question.
You’re just about to reach the meeting room when you hear an echoing melody of voices to your right. It stops you dead in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat once more. Approaching the door, you peek through the small window pane that gives you a glimpse inside. BTS are seated casually on high stools with sheet music propped in front of them. Their vocal teacher is watching, head lulling side to side with the tune, entranced by the same melody that seems to be drawing you closer -- demanding you closer. Before you can stop yourself, you reach for the doorknob and take a step. The air is heavy as you enter, their capellas whispering sweet words like those of a lullaby.
Your eyes drag across each member as they take turns singing, until your gaze stops on him. Yoongi inhales sharply before he begins the rap verse. It’s a song you’ve never heard -- probably unreleased -- but there’s a sense of familiarity in it, like he’s reciting something from a dream you forgot. It’s harsh and cold, sending a shiver up your spine.
What am I doing here? you think, cheeks warming with embarrassment. This is a complete invasion of privacy.
When you glance around at the staff, you’re relieved to see none of them have noticed your presence. They’re all consumed by watching the idols sing, as if they couldn’t bear to look away. You take advantage of the distraction to slowly step backward, hoping to make it to the door before the last verse. You reach blindly for the knob, finally turning to twist and shove it open. Even in your haste, you spare one last look and regret it instantly when that same cold shiver rolls through you. Yoongi’s eyes are dead set on yours. His smirk makes it clear he’s caught you.
You don’t waste another second, practically stumbling over your own feet as you rush out.
How could that be my first impression? You sigh in disbelief over your stupidity as you reroute back to the meeting room, glancing down at your watch as you do. There are only a few minutes left to sit down and organize your presentation. Silent curses echo in your head as you find a seat at the large table, setting down your tablet and organizing the files in front of you.
Groups are entering now, tailed by executives, choreographers, directors, music producers, and all of the rest. And then you see them. BTS enters one by one, and the entire room falls silent. Everyone’s heads instinctively bow, as if in a show of reverence. That thick tension from the rehearsal room returns.
RM nods at one of the managers across the table. “Begin,” he states, simply.
The man jumps to his feet, as if prodded by an electric current. He consults the producers and choreographers for updates on the comeback preparations and they go down the line, giving concise summaries of their accomplishments and the final tasks that need finishing. Each stops and stares at the idols, awaiting their validation. All they get are basic responses from RM: “good,” “continue,” or “that’s enough.”
Your pulse flutters when you realize you’re next. With sweaty hands, you swipe through your tablet, preparing to broadcast your visual aids onto the large screen at the front of the room. The stylist to your left finishes their presentation -- a slideshow of boyish, pastel garments from a recent spring collection. The idols grimace through it. You can tell RM especially is displeased when he replies with a mere “okay,” and moves his gaze to you.
Now. This is it.
You take a deep breath and stand, straightening yourself and projecting your images onto the screen.
After a brief introduction, you begin swiping through the slides: couture pieces and collages of aesthetics that you’ve tirelessly sourced for your original concept. The pitch could heavily sway the direction of their wardrobe for the entire comeback -- music video, promotional photoshoots, even the M! Countdown and Inkigayo stage costumes. Everything is riding on this moment.
When you reach the last slide, your eyes scan the faces of the creative directors and executives, checking for any sign of displeasure or engagement. Before they can express their thoughts, you’re interrupted by a deep voice.
“This is it. This is the one,” Yoongi decides, his tone finite.
You turn to look at him, finding him nodding at the screen. Almost instantly, the management mimics the motion, and the creative directors quickly follow suit.
An executive confirms his decision, telling you, “You will be the lead stylist for this comeback.”
You bow to each idol with a humble thanks, your eyes landing on Yoongi last. Goosebumps rise on your arms. He’s completely unreadable. His dark hair falls just around his eyes, a sharp contrast to his pale skin. You’re grateful for the opportunity to descend back into your seat. It seems your poor first impression hadn’t had too much of an effect on him.
The meeting ends when RM stands, gives a short “thank you,” and heads to the door. The rest of the group follows neatly behind him. No one makes a sound until the door shuts, and then everyone rises at once, gathering their things to leave. You can’t help but sit there, stunned, as you watch them leave. In all of your time in the industry, you had never seen a company hierarchy like this. Were the idols really superior to their executives? And the way their every word was the final say… Something about it was so strange.
You decide to chalk it up to the group’s financial success and global fame. They did put the company on the map, after all.
You’re the last to collect your things and head out the door, only to find a surprising figure standing right outside, almost as if he’d been waiting for you to appear.
“Y/N,” Yoongi says, standing in the middle of the hall to block your path.
His hands are in his pocket, his eyes reflecting their nonchalance as they scan you upward, finally landing on your face. You feel like you’re being examined, like he sees right through you. You instinctively clutch your bag closer to your body as you wait for him to say something. Maybe he’ll scold you for walking in on their rehearsal unannounced -- or make a comment about his preferences for the wardrobe. But a moment passes and he’s still just staring, quiet.
“Thank you for choosing me,” you blurt out, bowing again and hoping to break the silence.
“Do we know each other?” he suddenly asks.
A flash of confusion crosses your face as you straighten, hesitating for a moment.
“Uh- no. It’s my first day,” you awkwardly reply, glancing around the hall to make sure he’s not addressing someone else. “Maybe you saw me in that interview with Vogue: Korea? When I dressed Selene?”
Another bout of silence hangs in the air, his expression still unreadable as you wait for any indication of his acknowledgement. His eyes finally flicker away from your face as he glances toward the empty wall on your left. His nostrils flare in a deep inhale before he nods. You try to speak again, to thank him, but he turns suddenly on his feet and walks down the hall. He’s already in the elevator by the time you blink and exhale.
summary - You're left reeling after a demon attacks during a concert, taking one of your groupmates without a trace. Determined to get her back, you begin hunting the creature — only to cross paths with a demon sent to stop it. As an uneasy alliance deepens, the line between hunter, monster, and memory begins to blur.
pairing - min yoongi x reader
genre / warnings - kpop demon hunters! au , demon!yoongi , angst
word count - 4.9k+
The sun hung low over the Seoul skyline. If you opened your ears just enough, you could hear the sounds of fan chants floating up from the stadium. Sound check was an hour ago, and go-time was nearing with fervor. The greenroom buzzed under the fluorescent lights, too bright and concentrated in numbers. Staff scurried around the four of you, brushing curls and spraying glitter. But you could feel it in your bones-- something was off.
For a sold-out summer stage, the vibe should’ve been electric. Instead, you waited in a haze.
Jihyo had taught you from a young age to trust instinct. Never second-guess. Second-guessing got hunters killed. Second-guessing threatened the Honmoon. But it was just you, you told yourself. The other girls hadn’t mentioned anything strange yet.
Mina was humming again, the same hook and ending verse from your encore song “STAR.” Fingers tapped the beat on her thigh as her stylists touched up her makeup. Purple glittery eyeshadow to match her outfit. Black hair with purple money pieces styled to perfection in a long braid.
“Stage in twenty,” Chen called out-- your manager. But you didn’t move. Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling vent, where airflow curled unnaturally. Wrong tempo, your instincts whispered. Wrong sound.
You stood up, hand drifting unconsciously towards your jacket pocket-- fingertips kissing the ward charm sewn beneath your mic pack. It felt hot.
Too hot.
And too hot typically meant things that were supposed to stay below the shield had drifted too far up for your liking.
“You guys hear that crowd?” Mina grinned, “That’s the sound of people ready to worship.”
“They’re ready to see me, as usual,” Joy replied, mouth full of noodles.
“Stop blowing smoke up your ass, Joy,” Yuqi laughed as she pulled a brush through her honeyed hair and adjusted her yellow stage outfit. “I’m just manifesting zero falls tonight.”
“You fell in rehearsal this morning,” you point out.
“That was a spiritual reset.”
Mina rolled her eyes as she walked up to you and started braiding a strand of your hair without asking. So very Mina of her. “You’re doing that storm cloud face again. You good?”
“Just focused,” you answer. “Something feels…”
“Off? Yeah, you always say that before we win something or do a big show. You’re just sensing success.”
“Yeah, if you ever didn’t sense doom before a show, I’d think you were possessed.” Joy adds, blue bob bouncing as she laughs.
“Your vibe is kind of haunted shrine girl with trauma and anger,” Yuqi jabs.
“She’s our haunted shrine girl, though,” Mina smirks.
“You guys are the worst,” you told them, smiling a little at the teasing.
“And you’re our anchor,” Mina replies softly, tugging the braid to tighten it. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Mina smiled and led you towards the stairs near the back of the stage. You were still shrouded by canopies and curtains. Safe from the view of eager fans.
“All right,” you breathed, holding out a pinkie. They gathered around you at the base of the stairs, pinkies held out and linking around yours.
“No matter what?” Yuqi whispered.
“No matter what,” Mina nodded.
“We slay. We survive. We selfie after.” Joy grinned.
“We come back whole.” You added, pressing your foreheads together with the others over your interlocked pinkies.
Just for one breath, one beat.
“VENOM, five-minute call to stage.”
You broke apart like lightning. Confident, loud, and shining.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
Mina flipped her ponytail next to you, sliding into the center, and smirked at the camera.
“We don’t chase, we conquer
Crown built from bruises
Hella bad, Hella loud, Hella ruthless.”
The LED screen behind you glitched for a half-beat, and no one noticed. Except you. You felt the flame at your palm twitch mid-spin-- blade begging to be summoned.
Yuqi and Joy flanked your left and right, strobe lights bouncing off glittered eyes. You landed your mark dead center, fire crackling at your heels from a pyrotechnic cue.
“Venom in our veins, bite back when we bleed.”
The crowd screamed, but it felt too sharp, like it was peaking in your skull.
Mina took a solo walk forward, spotlights converging. She lifted the mic with another smirk, camera catching glistening eyes. She always nails the moment.
“Heard ‘em say we’re cursed, but baby, look at me now.”
The roar of the crowd was deafening-- tens of thousands chanting your names. The LED screen pulsed with blood-red visuals. Flames shot from cannons on the corners of the stage as your group struck the final chorus of STAR.
Your body moved on instinct. Every step was sharp and deadly-- years of choreography drilled into muscle memory. But something was still wrong. The bass felt off-beat. Your earpiece hissed with quiet static that didn’t match the music. Your gut twisted.
And behind you, in the sea of backup dancers, someone wasn’t dancing.
They were watching. You caught it midturn. A figure in the wrong outfit, head cocked too far, smile stretching too wide. It didn’t move with the beat. It absorbed it.
You broke formation, ignoring the wide eyes of Yuqi, Joy, and Mina.
You turned to face behind the stage.
“Kill the track,” you ordered, voice cutting through the in-ear. “Now.”
Music screeched to a halt. Confused cheers. Then silence.
Joy stood frozen, mid-pose. Mina turned towards you again in confusion. Yuqi blinked in disbelief.
You let go of your mic, walking up to the others when they followed suit.
“What are you doing?” Joy hissed.
“Something’s here,” you told them, motioning with your head towards the backup dancers as the crowd started to rise in shocked volume.
“What is that? Is that a demon? They never look so--”
“Human?” You offer Yuqi. “We need to get going. This doesn’t feel good.”
Mina and Joy nod after Yuqi, following your strut behind the stage.
The crew scrambled, and you ignored Chen’s raised voice and concerned questions.
“Just cancel the show, Chen,” Yuqi called behind you, “offer to give them their money back, I don’t know. We can bite the bullet on this loss.”
Headsets crackled around you as staff tried to make sense of the sudden cutoff. Security swarmed. Fans were filtering out, likely mumbling rumors, but the danger shifted-- it was already behind the curtains, too.
You dragged the girls into a nearby hallway leading to the dressing room.
“I saw it. I-- I didn’t think it was real. Thought it was the lights playing tricks,” Yuqi whispers.
“You think something’s here for us?” Mina gasped.
“Okay, seriously, this is insane,” Joy snapped, “you’re scaring her. You’re scaring me.”
That’s when the lights flickered.
“It’s here,” Yuqi mumbled, stepping back towards Joy.
Mina stopped walking. She turned slowly, like she had heard something.
“Do you hear that?”
You didn’t answer, just bloomed your blade from your open palm. It ran long and sharp. Red blade with a black handle.
Yuqi gasped, summoning her yellow glaive as Joy pulled her blue bow. Across from you, Mina summoned her dagger. Small and purple. The temperature in the hallway plummeted. You raced back towards Mina, motioning for Yuqi and Joy to watch behind you.
“Mina, come on,” you told your youngest member, “it’s getting closer. I don’t want to stay out here for longer--”
A shadow peeled from the wall behind Mina. Inhuman. Its form pulsed like a corrupted music video-- glitching, flickering, limbs too long. Its voice was layered, broken, like someone playing three distorted tracks all in reverse.
“One of you opened the door. One of you shines.” It cooed, trailing long fingers across the hallway wall. “She sang so sweet,” it said. “But you stopped the song.”
It lunged, not for you, but for Mina.
You launched forward, shooting your blade out in front of you. It hit, sinking deep in part of the demon’s shoulder, but the thing laughed. It twisted its form, dark tendrils dragging across the floor, and slammed you against the hallway wall.
Mina screamed.
Yuqi tossed the glaive, just barely missing. Joy knocked an arrow, loosed it, and it sank into the demon’s middle, but still, it laughed.
You rose, shoving Mina behind you. “Stay back,” you told Mina, blade lighting up and flame flicking to life across the expanse of it.
“YN, it’s okay. I think I know it…” She whispered from behind you.
The demon didn’t attack again. It just looked at Mina. Then it smiled and vanished.
For a half second, you were sure it was over.
Then she swayed behind you, tried to catch herself on the lapel of your stage jacket. You turned-- too slow-- and caught a blur. Mina’s body arched backwards, her eyes wide on you. And then she was gone.
No scream. No burst. Just vanished. Like the air swallowed her whole.
The hallway was quiet. The spot where Mina had been was now empty-- not even her mic pack remained. Just a thin scorch mark on the floor, shaped like a clawed crescent moon, still faintly glowing.
You stared at it, unblinking. Your blade retreated, flame extinguished. Your hand trembled at your side.
Yuqi sank to the floor, fingers scrambling across it as if she could pull Mina from it with her bare hands. “She was right here. She-- she was grabbing your jacket. YN, she was right here!”
Joy was pacing, one hand buried in her hair, mascara smudged and streaking. “Where the hell is security?!”
No one answered because you knew the truth.
No security guard could’ve stopped what just happened. Nothing could explain it.
Mina wasn’t lost. She was taken. By one of them.
You dropped to your knees, staring at your palms like they’d betrayed you. You weren’t strong enough. Weren’t fast enough.
Again. Just like before.
“I was right there,” you whispered to the ground and the cracks in your hands. “I told her to stay behind me.”
Yuqi sobbed, rocking forward and hiding herself. “She said she knew it. She looked at it like she… like she remembered it.”
“That’s not possible,” Joy shook her head, “that thing was-- it was a demon, Yuqi.”
For a long moment, you all sat there. Frozen in time. The hallway lights flickered back to full power. Footsteps and shouts echoed in the distance. People were coming too late. Managers yelling about damage control, refusing to listen when Joy and Yuqi told them that Mina had stormed out-- had quit.
None of them saw her disappear into thin air like the three of you. Only you knew what was real.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
“We’re going to find her,” you told the others, huddled on the couches in the living room of your shared dorm in changes of clothes and makeup long since wiped away.
“How?!” Joy shouted. “She’s gone, YN. That thing ripped her out of reality. What do you think you’re going to do? Light a match and walk into hell?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
And you meant it. Because Mina wasn’t the first person you had lost to the darkness. But she’d be the last.
You stood up and walked towards the doorway of the shared room, face washed in blue monitor light from the TV on the wall. The scorch mark was blown up and enhanced from a photo you snapped before the staff swept the hallway clean. They hadn’t noticed it. Couldn’t see anything relating to the demon world below you, even now. You’d redrawn it five times already on notebook paper. Compared it with old symbols in books Jihyo had spared you from her days of guarding the Honmoon. It didn’t match anything.
Far as you could tell, whatever took Mina wasn’t supposed to exist.
Behind you, the sofa creaked. Yuqi looked at you, face puffy, hoodie sleeves pulled over her shaking hands. She padded across the floor and pulled you into a hug. “None of us has slept. We’re tired and we’re not thinking straight.”
“There’s no time to sleep.”
“There’s no time to break, either.”
“What are you hoping to find? That we just missed some hidden line in a demon index?” Joy asked. “That we can draw a summoning circle and she’ll pop out like nothing happened?”
“I’m trying to find out what it was.”
“And you’re trying to do it alone. That’s a problem.”
Yuqi let go, reached for your wrist. “Please don’t shut us out, not like this.”
Your voice cracked, “You didn’t see her face. Right before she was gone. She looked at me like she needed me to stop it.” You looked between the two of them, “I’m not going to lose another person. I can’t.”
“You think we don’t feel that?” Joy asked, voice shaking and sharp. “Mina was my sister, YN. We all lost her. You don’t get to own that.” She stepped closer, “But if you go running into whatever monster’s waiting for you without a plan-- without us-- you’re not saving her. You’re just trading places.”
“You can’t protect everyone all of the time,” Yuqi whispered.
“I can at least try.” You replied, grabbing your jacket and leaving the dorm.
Neither of them followed.
Seoul doesn’t feel like it knows what it lost. But you do.
Your hoodie is pulled tight over yourself, shielding you from people who might take notice, amongst other beings.
The city never slept, but at this hour, it did forget to blink.
Billboards still glowed with your faces, all four of them. Mina smiled down at you from the glass of a passing bus-advert, mid-dance, forever frozen in promotional lighting.
You kept your head low under your hood as the night swallowed you. No driver. No bodyguards. Just a palm held close, blade humming within you. Your feet moved without direction-- just instinct. An instinct that called you somewhere deeper.
You followed it past neon convenience stores and flickering subway entrances. Down graffiti-tagged alleys where the air buzzed like the low hum of a dead mic. You ducked through a broken side gate, a shortcut to the old performance lot beyond your old trainee building. It was condemned. Abandoned. Perfect.
Your blade flickered to life in your hand like a warning. Something was already there.
You rounded the corner, and there it was. The demon.
It wasn’t even hiding anymore.
It stood tall, glitching at the edges. Its body pulsed. Its mouth didn’t move, but the voice still reached you-- layered, backwards, too close to a familiar pitch.
“You followed the song.”
“You took her. Give her back,” you reply, steadying yourself.
It tilted its head, not confused, but amused. “She sang so well. I want to wear her voice.”
Your breath hitched, your blade blazed.
“Where is she?”
“She’s not here. She’s not yours. But you shine. Like he did.”
You stopped cold.
He.
Your brother?
“You’ve seen him?”
The demon glitched forward suddenly, one step and it was inches from you. No heat. No breath. Just void.
“He screamed in colors. You will, too.”
And then it struck.
You ducked and rolled, blade bursting from your palm and singeing the corner of the alley wall. The demon recoiled, not in pain -- in interest.
It flickered again, behind you this time. Grabbed your shoulder.
You screamed and threw your elbow back into what should have been solid-- but the demon’s form shattered like smoke, reappearing in front of you again, closer, crouched, studying you.
“You burn wrong. Wild. Lonely.”
“That’s why this is easy,” you hissed, swinging your blade.
It dodged, lunged. You dropped, skidded, and sent the blade swinging for its legs. It connected, the demon hissed, and staggered back. But it was smiling again. Even without a face. “She called for someone. Not you.”
Something in you broke. You ran straight for it, fire burning bright against your blade, screaming as you swung--
But it caught you.
One tendriled hand to your throat. Not crushing, but stilling. Your blade flickered and dimmed.
“Not yet.” It whispered, “You’re not ready.”
And then it disappeared.
You dropped to the pavement hard, coughing, blade sputtering out in your hands.
The alley was empty again. Silent. Your fists shook against the cracked asphalt. You punched the ground once. Twice. Then collapsed forward, cheek pressed to the cold stone.
“Where are you, Mina?” You sobbed, blade flickering alive one more time, weak and stubborn, pulsing in grief.
The demon was gone. So was Mina. Your breathing softened, came in shallow bursts that were nothing when held next to your previous choked sobs. The blade guttered weakly against the pavement, not quite dead but not fully alive.
For a terrifying second, you felt alone in the universe.
Until--
“You shouldn’t be here.”
A voice. Low. Rough-edged like gravel. Steady.
You spun up to your feet in an instant, blade reigniting fully in your hands. Your stance was wide, wild eyes locked on the figure standing just beyond the alley’s mouth.
Black jacket. Hands in pockets. His face was shadowed by the streetlight behind him. Still as the grave. If he were a civilian, you were screwed.
But the air around him moved. No wind. Just pressure. A subtle warping of space. Like something holding its breath.
“Who the hell are you?”
He stepped forward. Slow. Measured.
“Someone who’s trying to kill what you just fought.”
You blinked. “You’re too late. And you’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he replied flatly.
Your eyes narrowed. There were patterns on his skin. Not tattoos, not scars. Just beneath the surface. Flickering. Faint. Etchings of a demon.
“You’re not human.”
“No,” he replied.
“Then where’s Mina?”
A flash of confusion crossed his face, brief but real.
“Who?”
You stepped forward, furious. “Don’t screw with me-- Mina. The girl it took. The one it wanted. She’s the reason I’m standing here instead of watching sunrise rehearsals. You’re telling me you’re hunting this thing and you don’t even know who it took?”
“I’m not here for her. I’m here for it.”
“She’s not a footnote! She’s a person!”
“She’s gone,” he replied, voice clipped. “If I had her, you wouldn’t be standing.”
Silence. For a second.
Your chest heaved. You didn’t know if you wanted to fight him or scream or crumble.
But he stepped closer, his tone shifted, rough still but quieter. “I’m not here to lie to you. I don’t know your Mina. I don’t know your name. I only know that thing shouldn’t be here. Not in this city. Not in this world. If I don’t stop it soon, it won’t matter who it’s taken. It’ll take everything else, too.”
“So what, I’m just supposed to trust you?”
He shrugged slightly, “No. But you’re still standing. That means you’ve seen it and you didn’t die. Which means you’re useful. A useful hunter,” he chuckles.
That stung. You raised your blade again.
“I’m not useful. I’m angry.”
He stared at you for a moment, expression unreadable. “Good. Keep that. You’ll need it,” he said softly.
He turned, started walking back into the dark. But before he vanished around the corner-- “You can follow me or not. But if you want to see the demon again, I’m your best shot.”
And he was gone.
The blade in your hand pulsed once. Still burning. Still angry.
Some things you chase because you have no choice. You didn’t want to follow him. You hated looking at his stupid orange hair as you walked the abandoned alleyways in Seoul. You wanted to go back. To the dorm. To Yuqi and Joy. To the version of yourself that only sang about demons instead of tracking them through alley shadows and praying to find your missing best friend. You’d only killed a handful of them in your career as a hunter. But Jihyo warned you about this. As the Honmoon weakened, you’d have your hands full. The only fix was a song. And with Mina gone now…
You shake your head and eye the patterns littering his hands and neck as you follow him.
The city changed once you knew where to look. He didn’t follow the regular streets, he dipped into half-locked gates and subway tunnels no longer in use. Backstreets pulsing with old symbols carved into the brick, alleys that bent as he passed through them.
He never looked back until he stopped.
A quiet rooftop above a noodle shop. Just past dawn.
He leaned against a rusted ladder cage and waited.
You panted, “You walk like you’re trying to get away from something.”
“I am,” he responded flatly, eyes on you.
“Try again, then. You’re the one who told me to follow.”
He glanced at you, eyes dark but alert. Assessing.
“You’re stubborn. And slow. I didn’t think you’d be this slow.”
“I’ve just lost someone.”
“Everyone in your line of work eventually does.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know any of us. What even are you?”
“Not the thing that took her,” he replies after a pause.
It should’ve calmed you, but it didn’t.
“I’m just here to get a job done: kill that thing and move on,” he adds.
“Well, if you want my help, you’re going to have to give me something.”
“Like?”
“Start with a name.”
Another silence. Longer, this time. You weren’t sure he’d answer. Maybe demons didn’t have names. Or maybe they did, and they were like spells-- dangerous if said out loud.
“Min Yoongi.”
He didn’t look at you when you said it. Just leaned back, watching the sky begin to shift from indigo to a sickly blue.
“That’s a normal name,” you reply incredulously.
“I was normal once,” he shrugs.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” he replied, quiet and void of emotion.
“Are you going to help me get her back?”
“I don’t know if you can get her back.”
“But you’ll help me try?” You ask, eyes narrowing.
He paused, thinking. Then quietly:
“I’ll help burn down whatever’s in the way.”
You sigh and continue following him towards the Han River.
The paint peels off the walls of the abandoned club in front of you. A husk now. Windows shattered. A rusted sign above the door that used to say RED ROOM, now smeared with graffiti and black scorch marks. You slowed your steps and glanced at Yoongi, who moved with the same kind of awareness you used in rehearsals. Every muscle sensing shifts in energy. A trained motion.
“This place used to be open. We had a party here once.”
“It’s been closed five years,” he replies without looking.
“You talk like a coroner.”
“Same job, different clientele.”
You walked for a moment longer. A crow called from a rusted lamppost. The breeze shifted-- colder, sharper.
You watched him carefully. His eyes weren’t glowing. His hands didn’t end in inky tendrils. But his steps were too precise. Like he already knew where the scent trail led. You couldn’t help yourself. “How are you tracking it?”
He didn’t stop, but his hand slid into his pocket. He pulled out a thin shard of obsidian, etched with markings that whispered. The edges shimmered like oil slick under the early morning sky. “This,” he answered.
You leaned closer, examining. “It’s reacting.”
“Mm, to the bleed-through.”
“From that thing?”
He nodded, “When something crosses over from deep enough, it scars the space. Leaks behind residue. Emotion. Sound. Memory.”
“Like soul radiation.”
“Not a bad way to put it,” he smirked.
You reached the cracked curb outside of the club. The doors stood just barely ajar-- inside, it was pitch black. Cold. The kind of cold that sank beneath your skin like a cut.
Yoongi stopped, holding the obsidian in one hand, watching the lines begin to glow a purple-blue.
“It’s been here recently?”
“Very recently.”
“Is Mina still here?” You ask softly.
He finally looked at you from behind orange tresses. For once, his expression wasn’t unreadable. It was… cautious. Almost careful. “If it left her behind, you would’ve known.”
You clenched your jaw. “Let’s find what’s left, then.”
You stepped toward the door, but Yoongi’s arm shot out, not touching you, just barring your path.
“It wants you. Don’t get emotional in there.”
“She was my sister,” you snap.
“And she’s gone now,” he responds coldly. “Don’t give it anything it can use, okay?”
You didn’t answer, but you pulled your hood up, blade peeking out from your sleeve. Yoongi dropped his arm slowly, and you walked into the dark.
Inside the Red Room, nothing echoes right. Time stretched. Memories lied.
The moment you stepped in, the temperature dropped. Achingly familiar to the way it had before Mina was taken.
The air inside the club was too still. Stale. Not dusty, but dead. Like even the rot had gotten bored and left.
You could barely make out the shapes: long-forgotten booths, a shattered disco ball dangling from torn wires, a dancefloor stripped of light but not sound-- something low and distorted hummed beneath your feet, like music from under the earth.
Behind you, Yoongi said, “Stay close.”
But when you turned, he was gone.
“Yoongi?”
You spun in place. The doorway was gone. The walls were wrong, shifting like an unfinished sketch. Your blade stretched out fully from your sleeve now, desperate, pulsing, casting warped shadows.
Nothing answered.
Then-- a voice. Familiar. Distant. Twisted.
“You let her fall.”
Mina’s voice.
You whipped around. The club had changed. Now the walls were lined with mirrors. Warped and blackened at the edges. In each one, you saw a different version of yourself.
One holding Mina’s hand tight.
One screaming as the demon pulled her away.
One walks out without looking back.
“This isn’t real,” you spit through gritted teeth.
“Real enough to break you,” the demon voice called out, overlaid with Mina’s tone.
One mirror cracked down the center. Something moved behind it-- long fingers. A grin forming without features.
You swung deep.
It shattered. But the shards didn’t fall. They hovered in the air, spinning and reflecting your face back at you.
And the demon stepped through them.
Still formless. Shimmering like sunlight on water. But now wearing something closer to your world. Pieces of Mina’s silhouette. Glimpses of her hair. Her voice, half right. “She was easy to wear.”
Your blade flared hot, and your voice shook, “Give her back!”
The demon twitched its head, “Why? She was empty. Full of fear. Just like you.”
It lunged and you barely ducked in time.
A razor-sharp swipe cut across your upper arm, cold instead of hot. Like ice poisoning your veins. You rolled, blade gripped in both palms now, and aimed upwards in an arc.
But the blade sputtered against the air surrounding the demon. Like the air bent light. Resisted it. The demon was feeding on the place’s history and your emotions.
“She wanted to be special,” it whispered as it stepped towards you. “And so do you. But you’re only bright when someone else is dying.”
You screamed, fire pluming from your blade as you swung it again and again. The demon dodged and dodged, stepping back until it was stuck with its back to the nearest mirror. It smiled at you, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
You ran. Corridors shifted. The club stretched wrong again. Doors appeared, then blinked out of existence. You staggered through a hallway lined with glowing veins in the walls, like the building was a demon itself.
“Yoongi!” You called out, panting as you crossed another hallway.
No response. Then the demon’s voice, soft, mocking-- “He can’t hear you.”
“Mina!”
“You can’t have her back.”
You’re sent flying across the next hallway, air whooshing out of you as your back meets the wall. Your vision spins, lurches as you make yourself stand back up, sucking in empty gasps of air.
“Stop running.” It tells you, sickly sweet, as it materializes inches away from your face.
You sob, swinging your blade towards the demon. Missing. Your grief was getting in the way, but you were well past the point of reigning it in.
You fight hard and fast. Your strikes burn shallow wounds, but the demon adapts. Mimics your movements. Uses your own rhythm against you.
It grabs you again by the throat and slams you into the wall. “You burn so bright. What a perfect vessel you’d make.”
Fingers start phasing into your skin, like it’s testing the fit. Testing if your body could host it. It hums. The melody… One of your songs. Twisted. Slow. Unnatural.
“Tell the blade to sleep. Let me in.”
You can’t breathe. Your body convulses. Your mind starts to slip. And then…
The air shifts, hums with a low vibration like a sub-bass only your bones could hear.
The demon freezes.
Yoongi steps through shadow like it’s a curtain, eyes cold and voice emotionless.
“Hey,” he smirks, flicking his hand. The ground splits in a perfect line, a sharp crack of sound that sends the demon flying back. You drop to your knees, coughing, vision swimming. You look up and Yoongi moves like gravity doesn’t fully apply to him. Maybe it doesn’t. He doesn’t look back at you. Not yet.
The demon shrieks in corrupted feedback.
“Traitor.” It hisses.
Yoongi’s hand tightens into a fist, and the demon’s eyes go wide, its white irises and sclerae panicked as it feels his power.
“You reek of old blood,” Yoongi states.
Before he can finish it, the demon shattered into static and vanishes-- leaving behind nothing but the scorched slash on the floor again, like at the stadium.
You try to stand, blood trickling at the corner of your mouth.
“Who the hell are you, Yoongi?”
“I’m the one they sent to kill it. And if you’d stayed home like your friends wanted, you wouldn’t have almost died.”
“You really don’t know where Mina is, do you?”
“No. But I know that wasn’t her.”
You stare at each other. Enemies. Allies. You weren’t sure yet.
But one thing was certain: you couldn’t fight this thing alone.
— summary: until death do you part, you are theirs and they are yours
— pairing: bts x reader
— genre: fluff, slight angst, demon!au
— word count: 4.4k
— warnings: none
— commission for @daisyjoons
“What’s that in your hand?”
“H-Huh?”
“The flower,” Seokjin beckons at the rose he has in his hand, his tall figure and deadpanned eyes staring down at the man, it almost leaves him wanting to pee his pants right on the spot. “It’s not for the baker, now is it?”
Six more pairs of eyes stare directly down at him and yet he still has the audacity to say; “Yes, it’s..it’s for miss Y/N.”
“Ah.”
Suddenly the air in the little shop shifts and a sharp, cold breeze rushes through the room despite the fact that today should have been nothing but a pleasant breeze. Little ashes of smoke begin to appear from the thin air of the floors of the shop, sauntering around as customers sitting in their designated seats pick their feet up out of fear, their whispers of panic raising, and the man at the center of the demons’ wrath feels sharp ice crawling all over his body.
“It seems you want trouble,” Jungkook says as he takes a step forward, causing the man to step back, and so Jungkook keeps following along until he backs himself against the counter, trembling in sight while the rest of the people hold their breaths, too frightful to make a move in fear of being on the receiving end of the demons’ wrath.
“I-I don’t want trouble,” the poor man stutters.
Taehyung clicks his tongue in irritation while Jimin scoffs.
“Clearly you do,” Namjoon says. “You uttered her name. In the demon world, no one is allowed to utter someone’s name so carelessly. Only if they mean something to you and if the person has allowed you to utter their name.”
“I-I’m sorry sir, I-I didn’t know.”
“And giving roses,” Yoongi plucks the flower right out of his fingertips, “means an eternal love you are willing to spend the rest of your life with.” He burns the petty little thing right before the man’s eyes, all the while keeping his glare pointed right at him, causing the guy to visibly shallow a hard lump.
“Do you understand where you’re wrong?” Hoseok threatens, an arm propped up against Yoongi’s shoulder, hovering.
“I-I-” He looks like he’s about to piss his pants.
“Do you, understand?” So Hoseok reiterates, deeper, darker, graver. “Yes or no?”
“I..y-yes, yes—”
“What are you doing?”
A voice.
A sweet, sweet voice more precious and sweeter than the nectar the butterflies flock themselves onto, than any blood that can satisfy a vampire, than the sun that gives humans light and nutrients. A voice they love more than anything in this world.
Except the woman herself whom it belongs to.
They turn in an instant, ears perking up, head snapped, to find you standing before the door that leads to the backrooms, holding onto a tray of desserts they know you’ve made just for them, and their faces immediately soften.
The room brightens up, the shadows beginning to melt away into thin air in the same way they appeared, and Jimin is just about to rush up to you if it weren’t for your eyes suddenly shifting from them.
Your attention isn’t on them.
“You’re scaring the poor man!” You quickly say as you put your tray down onto the counter, rushing to untie the apron strings from behind, rushing in between them and the gentleman, an arm extending as you force Jungkook to back off. “Not just him but my customers!” You turn to address the guy. “Are you alright sir? I apologize for everything.”
He takes one glance behind you and instantly freezes up once more, quick to shake his head vehemently at the dark eyes staring straight into his soul — unbeknownst to you.
“I-I’m okay! I’m okay!” He blurts out before simply scurrying out the door before you can get another word in.
You stare at the scene, blinking at his sudden rush, before turning around to place your hands upon your hips, all the while the boys are quick to change up their expressions, acting as if they’ve been innocent all along.
“You just lost me a customer. Would you like to explain why you were interrogating the poor dude?” You start, brows furrowed, shoulders tense, chin slightly protruding and they know you’re trying to be all high and mighty but in their eyes, you just look like an upset bunny trying to fight seven wolves. “You really need to keep yourselves in check and stop summoning your shadows to show up out of nowhere, you know that scares people. How are my customers supposed to eat and drink and have a calm peaceful day if you just show up out of nowhere and deliberately make a scene?”
“M-miss Y/N, we’re fine but please—” An older woman tries to appease you, her approach timid as she holds her hands up, trying to calm you down in fear of the men in the room who’re the reason for your anger. “You don’t have to stand up for our sake.”
“We’re fine, you don’t have to do this.”
“I’d really love it if I didn’t have to witness our favorite baker in town—”
“What are you talking about, ma’am, they need a proper scolding,” you say otherwise, clearly unaware of the public’s concern for your life, being as you’re literally standing up against seven tall, masculine men who can literally bend the Earth and destroy this town with a flick of their wrist.
“Miss Y/N, please—”
“It’s alright, just go back to your coffee. I assure you I can handle this.”
“No please—”
You ignore their pleas to turn back around, that business smile fading the second you meet their eyes and they frown, hating the way you sounded kind to your customers and yet don’t bother to send them a smile.
“So then, what do you have to say for yourselves?”
“It’s not even that big of a—”
“Excuse me?” You cross your arms before your chest, looking up at them with a serious expression and they know they can’t not listen to whatever you say.
Only you can ever make them bend a knee.
“Sorry,” Jimin grumbles under his breath but you pretend you didn’t hear it.
“What was that?”
He sighs and steps forward, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close, much to the audience’s dismay, and pepper kisses upon your cheeks. “You heard me darling, I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry. We’re sorry,” Jungkook joins in, a hand on your head as he presses a kiss to your temple.
You feel your heart lighting up, a smile waiting to creep up but you know not to give in just yet. “And to my customers?”
Namjoon crosses a hand over to his heart, giving the people a light bow. “We apologize for the inconvenience, dear customers of Y/N’s,” he says, and while they simply look back with mouths agape and widened pupils, frozen in their spots, he turns his head back your way, a cheeky little grin spread across his face as if asking for a compliment for doing the thing that you asked him to do.
You bite back a grin, seeing how obedient they are when it comes to you, but you know that if you let them see even the smallest bit of that, they'll disregard the people around them and simply coddle you to their heart’s content.
So you take Jimin’s hand and lead him into the backrooms, knowing the rest are quick to follow along, all the while leaving your customers blinking and rubbing their eyes, wondering if what they had just seen was right or if it had been simply a figment of their imaginations.
After all, everyone knows demons would never yield to a human that easily, much less care for them in the way they just treated you.
“Someone looks stressed.”
Once you’re finally left alone with your demons without any eyes kept on you, you let your guard down, smiling ruefully as you take a good look at the seven of them. Demons don’t live on sleep in the way humans need it, they get their energy elsewhere, but sometimes there are days you feel as if perhaps taking a nap will help them.
They look so tired.
“But that still doesn’t mean you can come around here and demand things out of my customers.”
Yoongi grunts, rolling his eyes at your words like a child hating to be scolded. “I get it, I get it,” he repeats exasperatedly when he walks over to place his head against your chest, letting you run your fingers through your hair to coddle him.
“But he was trying to give you roses,” Taehyung says as he clicks his tongue with irritation, that glare he has on is always enough to kill someone if he could, and for a good while you were scared of it yourself, but luckily you’ve gotten used to it. Taehyung would never hurt you after all.
And you know exactly what roses mean in the demon language. It was what they gave you when they confessed their undying love to you after all, a day you will never forget, a day they swept you off your feet and the very day you became forever theirs. You can never forget what those roses mean to them because to demons who’re almost incapable of feeling, much less love another, if a rose is given by them unto another, it is something one must never doubt.
“You do understand that roses aren’t as significant as they are to us humans, don’t you?” You remind them, a light chuckle leaving your lips when Taehyung drops his head onto your shoulder, asking for the same attention you’re giving to Yoongi. “I mean they mean a lot to me because they mean a lot to you but to humans in general, roses are just another sign of love.”
“Exactly, love. That’s a universal language and he was trying to steal you away from us.” You feel Hoseok’s arms slide around your waist from behind, lips pressing onto the nape of your neck.
“He didn’t know,” you try to excuse the action of the poor man who you didn’t even know was trying to confess to you just a few minutes prior.
But they’re having none of that.
“Who goes around professing their love to someone they don’t even know that well? Did he really believe a pretty girl like you would remain loveless by men all around her?”
You laugh awkwardly at Seokjin’s words. “What’re you trying to say by that?”
“He should know his place,” he says as he takes your chin from under his fingertips, bringing you forth to his face, “and that you, who is beloved by many, wouldn’t have already stolen the hearts of others around her. You attract after all, and just like those pretty little sweets you make every day before the town can even wake up, a simple glance at you can cause quite the addiction.”
“I..” You avert your eyes, cheeks heating because you know exactly what he’s trying to imply. “I don’t think I..”
“You don’t?” The eldest raises a brow as if daring you to further challenge his belief.
“W-well…” You stumble on your words before clearing your throat. “Sometimes too many sweets can be bad for you.”
“Well, luckily I have a sweet tooth.” A small little smirk curl along the corner of his lip, a low chuckle leaving him just as he leans in to capture your lips, leaving your heart to skip a thousand beats faster than its initial pounding.
He doesn’t kiss you for too long but even then, once he leaves you, you’re a blushing mess.
“Heart’s pounding rather fast,” Yoongi states, and you’re stumbling over your words once again.
“I..I-I wasn’t…”
“How long has it been? You’re still swooning over such a small thing?” Jungkook teases.
“It’s alright, I quite like it actually,” Seokjin says, his hand reaching up to tuck it behind your ear. “It’s quite refreshing seeing what we do still makes her react like this. You love us that much, huh darling?”
“If you’re here just to tease me, please just return to whatever it was you were doing before coming here.”
“Hey, don’t act like you don’t like it,” Namjoon pulls you back in when you try to run away to hide your embarrassment. They hold you in close, grips so steady you know there’s really no chance you’ll ever be able to escape.
Not that you want to.
And seeing those looks on their faces, you know they know that fact more than anyone else.
After all, these days can sometimes be rare; the days when they show up before you unexpectedly, most times without ever telling you beforehand. These days are the days you cherish the most, when you can be in their arms just like this, without ever feeling as if they would ever let you go.
Not until it’s time for them to leave. Not until they have to leave.
And it’s in those moments when they do have to leave do you feel the most lonely. When you have to stay behind, taking a moment to gather yourself, remember their holds and kisses, before returning to your baking with a customer smile on your face so no one knows just how lonely you are when your demons leave, knowing you can do nothing but wait until their next visit.
There are times when waiting takes days, weeks, and sometimes even a whole month and you’re always left wondering just where they are and where they’ve gone and what they’re doing.
But you know you’d never tell them just how lonely you really are when they’re gone.
After all, the times they visit are for the times of loving and holding one another. It isn’t a time to dwell on things that don’t matter, it isn’t a time to cry and wish and to hope. It’s a time to cherish what’s before you before they have to leave.
Only when they’re gone can you actually dwell on your loneliness.
“If something ever goes wrong or if you simply need us, you can call us anytime.”
You stare at the little bell shaped into a red rose one lonely night while standing under the stars in the middle of your garden.
It’s the garden of red roses they created for you, a garden that can never wilt no matter the seasons, time, or period. It dies only when the owner who received these flowers dies.
It will wilt only once you’ve wilted.
“Just how long will you continue to live, little ones?” You hold a hand out to feel the soft petals of the roses upon your fingertips, smiling at how pretty they are. Not even one petal is torn or hurt. They all look alive and well, alive and flourishing.
Jungkook says they reflect their owners’ age as you know that one day in the far future, these flowers will probably begin to look dainty and frail as well, and yet you don’t wish to ever see these flowers growing old with you.
Growing old means nearing death.
Growing old means wilting.
And then what will happen to the ones you’ll be leaving behind? The lifespan of a human does not last forever after all, and the more you think about it, the more you come to understand that they’ve got all the time in the world, hence they don’t ever look sad or griefed whenever they come to visit days or weeks or months later.
It is because to demons, the passing of time is simply but a second walking by.
Yet to you, every ticking second means a second closer to wilting away.
You let out a sigh, turning from the flowers to take a step forward towards your house when a harsh wind passes by, causing your shawl to fly off, and in an attempt to grab for it, you’ve forgotten about the bell you had in your hand, causing the little flower shape to fall from your hand and jingle as it hits the ground.
You gasp as you freeze in place because in just mere seconds, you know you aren’t alone anymore.
Seven presence right behind you.
Who would have thought it’d work this fast?
You quickly pick your bell up, eyes scanning forward at the shawl that flew off onto a rose bush, and rush forward to take it back because of how cold the night air has gotten.
“Well someone most certainly called us here on purpose, didn’t she?”
You turn back at Yoongi’s sarcastic comment once you’ve gotten your shawl to wrap it back onto yourself.
“Sorry! It was the wind,” you quickly say as you rush back to their side. “The bell was in my hand and when my shawl flew away, I forgot about it so when I went to reach for my shawl, the bell fell out and now here you are, summoned by the jingle.”
“So you’re not in immortal danger?”
At Seokjin’s question, you take a look around, wanting to laugh a bit at the situation. “Uh nope! Looks like I’m perfectly fine.”
“So you’ll only call us if you’re in immortal danger? How disappointing.” Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his lips pouting.
“What? You want me to call you if I miss you or something?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” You place the bell securely into your pocket then tighten the shawl around your body. “Anyways, it’s pretty cold out here. You should get back to what you were doing. As you can see, I’m not hurt nor am I in any danger. In the meantime, I think it’s time for me to head to bed.”
You begin to walk off to your door again when Namjoon stops you.
“What were you doing out here?” He asks and you stop in your tracks, shrugging.
“Just thinking.”
“Thinking?”
“About immortality and stuff.”
“Immortality?” Jimin steps up to drape an arm around your shoulder in order to turn you back around to where they’re standing, at the same time helping you to keep warm against the night breeze. “What’s got you thinking about immortality, darling? Are you finally thinking about how to become one?”
“You know I like my human life.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Something about growing old is part of what makes human life so beautiful or whatever.”
“I don’t understand why death is beautiful to you,” Taehyung says.
“Well on the other hand, don’t you think immortality is somewhat of a curse?” You ask and they look upon themselves as if they’ve never given that idea a chance before.
“Why would it be a curse?”
“Well…” Your words trail off slowly and yet they wait for your explanation, eyes steady on you, ears open to whatever you have to say, and you play along with your fingers, nails digging into the skin a bit. “When I die…you’ll still have thousands of years left to live.” You avoid their eyes, staring down at the ground. “...Won’t you miss me?”
They grow silent.
Everything grows silent and you hear nothing but the little breeze that passes by ever so often, as well as the cicadas out in the night, singing their sweet songs, a melody mirroring the birds in the early morning.
“So you’re saying,” Hoseok begins, “that you’ll die before us.”
“It’s inevitable,” you say, looking up again. “Forty years may not mean a lot to you but forty years into the future means me getting old and gray and my health deteriorating. Humans are living and dying at the same time. I get closer to death with each passing day.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You know it’s true.” You watch as Jungkook turns to look at the flowers in the garden, his hand reaching out to touch one of them. “I’d never want to die and let you live through years of heartache. I’d never want to leave you behind in this world and no matter how happy we will be, death is something that is inevitable to come for me, you know that. Though I wouldn’t ever want you to follow along either. I don’t want to die together.”
“So you love your human life but you don’t want to die and leave us behind, but you also don’t want us to choose our own death in following you right behind, and you don’t wish to become an immortal.” Namjoon takes a step forward into your proximity, their expressions more grave than any other times you’ve ever seen them — except in those moments when you’re in immortal danger right before them. It frightens you a bit wondering what’s going on inside their heads, but what frightens you most is the inevitable future threatening to tear you apart.
“What is it that you want, Y/N?” Namjoon asks and you take a moment to think.
What is it that you want?
Why’re you thinking about immortality and death? Why was the wind listening to you when you were left to yourself in this garden? Why did it hear your silent plea in wishing to see them and therefore taking your fate into their hands and causing you to accidentally call for your demons?
Why does any of this even matter?
“I don’t know…” You look down at your feet, fingers unable to keep still, the vision before you blurring. “I-I don’t know,” you admit truthfully and when you look up again, their eyes widen at the sight of tears brimming along your waterline, waiting to fall down any second now. “I don’t want to live forever but I don’t…I don’t want to ever leave you behind and…and…I don’t know what I want. All I know is that…is that even though I enjoy this human life, I hate how different we are. I hate how different we think because to you, a day passing by means nothing. A week, a month, maybe even a year. A year without me is nothing to you. You can let time go by and it wouldn’t mean a thing because you get to live forever but to me…to me….I..”
You swallow the lump that wishes to cut your voice off, forcing the words out. “I hate waiting. I hate not knowing when it is you’ll be visiting again. I hate each day that passes, I hate it when you leave me, I hate being lonely and empty, I hate it when I have to wait. I hate it. I hate all of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I don’t know,” you cry, ignoring the tears that slip by when they close in on you. A few hiccups threaten to leave your voice behind but you continue talking through it all. “It’s just…I-I didn’t bring it up because I know you get busy and even if you aren’t so busy, I…I thought that, well, if the passing of time doesn’t affect you, why should it affect me?”
“You should have spoken up, my love.”
“You know if you asked for the world, we’d give it to you in a heartbeat, right? Why would you think we wouldn’t stop anything and everything if you just asked to be with us?”
“I don’t know,” you cry again, letting the last syllable drag out as more tears fall from your eyes and they’re quick to panic, realizing their reassuring words probably sounded more like them scolding you.
“It’s alright, it’s alright. You don’t have to cry anymore.”
“We know. We know now so it’ll be alright.”
“I’ll tell you what, become one of us.”
Your cry falls silent as only sniffles and small hiccups leave your lips when you hear those words. You blink up at Taehyung, slightly confused. “..What?”
“You heard him, become one of us.”
“I told you I don’t want to live forever.”
“You don’t have to live forever, darling.”
“I..I don’t?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “We can live together for as long as we want and when you get tired of life, when you get tired of immortality, just say the word and we’ll make it happen in a heartbeat.”
“...Really?”
“Of course.” Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead just as you feel Taehyung’s hands wiping your tears away and Seokjin handing you a tissue he created from thin air. “Hoseok said, didn’t he? You could ask us for the world and we’d give it to you without question.”
“We’d burn the world if it means making you happy.”
“But what if I just want you and not the whole world?”
Soft smiles appear upon their faces, softening their features, whispering sincere affirmations of love.
“Oh darling, you already have us.”
“And you’ll have us even after death takes us all away.”
“But…I thought…” with the last remaining tears wiped away, you take a small little glance towards the rose bushes, eyes scattering off with confusion, “doesn’t immortality mean…forever? How would I..-How would we just…leave this world?”
“There is always an answer to everything,” you feel warmth seeping through the palm of Yoongi’s hand when he caresses your face, “and just like the stars that burn bright in the night, lasting for eons on end, they too have their beginning and ending and one day they will burn away as well.”
“Then, technically..you aren’t cursed with immortality?”
“Well technically, yes, but in theory, going against the ways of life means going against the laws of the world, which also means throwing things off balance, so it also means receiving death sentences for throwing off said balance.”
You take a moment to blink, trying to comprehend what Jungkook just said, before simply letting out an “Oh.”
They chuckle at your silence and you feel Jimin ruffle your hair. “Though of course we’d never let anyone touch you, not even the world. There are other ways to leave an immortal life but it’ll happen when we get there so don’t worry your little head off about how everything works.”
“You just have to trust us,” Seokjin agrees.
“You’ll trust us, won’t you?” Hoseok asks.
You take his hands in yours, eyes determined without a glint of hesitation. “I trust you with my life and until death do us part, it is yours to keep.”
Taehyung chuckles at the sentiment before repeating the vow you’ve just spoken. “Until death do us part.”
Summary: A mysterious music box leads to some unsettling activity and dreams. But what happens when your dreams become reality?
Warnings: paranormal/horror themes, swearing, injuries, stalking/yandere-ish vibes(I mean he's a demon so yeah) nightmares? Idk, lmk if I missed something
A/N: ngl this one came out pretty creepy. Thank you all for the support you've shown for Spooktober, the final piece will be posted later this week.
Spooktober m.list
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"Y/n, look at this!"
Jin was holding up an old cookoo clock, covered in tiny decorative leaves and swirling scrollwork. "It's cute, right?"
"Uh, it's not really my style." You said gently, trying not to offend him.
He was supposed to be helping you look for furniture for your new house, but so far, all he had done in every thift shop you two had gone into was get distracted by various knickknacks and old toys, leaving you to basically fend for yourself.
"Oh c'mon, you could hang it in the kitchen-"
You attention was pulled away from the conversation by a shelf of old music boxes. One in particular caught your eye, slightly smaller than the others, almost able to fit in one hand, with a simple diamond and checkerboard pattern carved into the surface.
Curious, you picked it up and gently wound the key, the gears stiff from age and lack of use. A soft twinkling melody began to play, causing a twinge of nostalgia to ring through you, but you didn't know why. The song sounded familiar, like an old forgotten memory come back to the surface, but you couldn't quite place it.
"-what do you think?"
"Hm?" You shook out of your revre, glancing up at your friend in confusion.
"Were you really not listening to me?" He pouted at you.
"I'm sorry, I don't what happened." You said absent-mindedly as you checked the box for a price sticker, but finding none. "I'll be right back."
You quickly made your way up to the counter, griped by a sudden need for the charming little box.
"How much is this?" You asked the lady at the register.
"Oh, that old thing?" She looked at it in surprise. "You can have it, no charge."
"Seriously?" You said in disbelief.
"Mh-hm." She nodded, "It's been here for ages, it doesn't even work."
"But, I just-" You were cut off by the sound of something crashing to the floor, making you both jump. Ducking back around a few shelves, you found Jin standing awkwardly over the busted remains of the cookoo clock.
"I'll take it!" He said, cheeks red in embarrassment.
. . .
You took the box home.
As you climbed into bed that night, you picked it up again, examining it carefully.
There were hinges along one side of the top, indicating that it could open, but the tiny lock on the front prevented you from doing so. You gave a small huff of frustration, about to give up, but then you remembered seeing a similar box in a movie once where the key for the music mechanism had also served as a key for the lock.
Turning the box over, you gave the key a gentle tug, it came free of its housing easily enough. Slipping it into the lock, you found to your delight that it turned and clicked.
Thrilled with your discovery, you gently lifted the lid and peered in. The inside was lined with a teal green velvet, in the center was a small spring that you suppose once held a figurine of some sort, but now stood empty, missing its miniature dancer.
Slightly disappointed, you closed it again and sat it in it's new home on your bedside table before shutting off the lights and going to sleep.
That night, your dreams were full of strange sights and sounds. Strange flashes of color. Someone was laughing, but the noise was foggy and muffled. Somewhere, distantly, you could hear the music box playing.
. . .
Over the next few weeks, you started to notice strange things around your new place. Creaking footstep-like sounds, doors that refused to stay open or closed, the scent of something like woodsmoke and rain that seemed to move about the house.
At first you tried to brush it off. It was an old house, old houses had weird noises and smells, right? You'd known that when you moved in. But then, there were more things that you couldn't find a logical explanation for.
Voices that seemed to echo down the hall from empty rooms. Shadows moving out the corner of you eye, peaking around doorways when your back was turned, catching sight of the flickering movement in the mirror while you were brushing your teeth or watching TV.
At night, it got worse. You were finding it increasingly difficult to sleep. When you did manged to drift off, you kept having the same recurring dreams of smokey figure slipping into your room through a crack in the window or under the door, the swirling and billowing mass drifting ever closer, watching you with eyes like burning coals.
Everything in your body said that you should be terrified, but for some reason, you weren't. In fact, you felt oddly serene as he gently reached out and took your hand, tugging you up out of bed and pulling you close, seeming to dance about the room with you. Everytime, you would wake up shaking and sweating.
. . .
"Y/n?" You jumped slightly at your name, looking across the table to see Jin eyeing you with concern.
"You alright?" Jin asked.
He'd noticed the recent changes in you and to say he was worried was an understatement. You were pale and jumpy, shadows under your eyes from lack of sleep.
You looked down, sighing. "I- I don't really know, Jin."
"What's wrong?"
"Promise you won't make fun of me?" You asked.
"I swear." He held up a hand in oath.
"I think my house is haunted." You started, half expecting he would think you were crazy. But if anyone was going to believe you, it would be Jin.
As you spoke, Jin had gone still and pale, his brow furrowed as he listened.
"And then, there's these." You pulled back your sleeve, revealing fingerprint like bruises littering your arms. They didn't hurt and they would fade almost as fast as they appeared, but you could still sense them, like invisible sootstains on your skin.
He swallowed hard, mouth pressed into a thin line
"Maybe we should call someone, like-"
Jin's voice faded out as you froze, staring out the glass front of the restaurant over his shoulder.
He was there, a faint, greyish figure, semi-transparent like a reflection, except that he standing outside on the sidewalk. He tilted his head slightly as he grinned at you.
"Y/n? What is it?" Jin turned to see what you staring at, looking back at you confused.
"He can't see me, Love, only you can." The figure mouthed, but it sounded like he was right next to you, sending a shiver up your spine.
"Nothing. It's nothing." Snapping your attention back to your friend, you spoke quickly, gathering your things. "Look, don't worry about it, I've got a handle on it." You turned to leave, but Jin grabbed your arm.
"'Got a handle on it?' Wait a minute, y/n, I don't get this. Are you scared or not?"
You stopped.
Were you? The same question had been plaguing you for days.
"I... don't know."
. . .
'It was a dark and stormy night.' You rolled your eyes at your own joke. It was Halloween night, rain pouring down outside with thunder and lightning as you finished washing up for bed. 'How cliché.'
As if to prove your point, there was a loud clap of thunder, and the room was plunged into darkness.
"Shit." You whispered, fumbling your way down the hall. Where the hell had you packed the flashlights?
Making it to your room, you stilled as you heard a soft twinkling melody floating through the air. The music box.
You were frozen, heart was pounding so loudly in you ear that it took you a several seconds to realize there was another set of breaths in the room.
Another flash of lightning illuminated a figure standing in the center of the room.
You fell back against the door as you let out a shrill scream.
"Don't be afraid." He spoke in a low, raspy voice. At that moment, the lights flickered back on, revealing the intruder.
He was tall, very slim, a mop of messy black waves partially covered dark eyes with deep shadows beneath them
"Please don't hurt me." You whimpered.
"Hurt you?" He tilted his head at you. "Why would I do that? You let me out."
"I-what?"
"My box, you opened it." He let out a small laugh as he picked it up and pointed to you. "That was impressive, you know? Not everybody can do that."
"I don't-" You stopped as you realized.
You recognized that voice, the angular face, those eyes, though usually they had a different glow than the playful glint they held now.
"Oh my god." You whispered, slumping against the door again.
"Not quite." His lips quirked up in a smile.
"I'm going crazy." You ran a shaky hand through your hair.
"Crazy looks good on you then." He said, taking in your features more closely. You were cute, weren't you? 'Lucky me.' He thought, watching you fidget nervously. If he had to be indebted to human, at least it was someone fun.
"What are you?" You asked
"I've been called a lot of things," he said softly, Cheshire grin on his face as he crept closer. "but you can call me Jay."
Everything felt jumpy and distorted, like an old, fragmented movie reel. The closer he came, the worse it got.
"We had such a nice time before," he breathed, as his fingers brushed your arm. "Imagine how much nicer it would be now that I'm real, that I can actually touch you."
"I-" You pulled back slightly, but you it was a like you were a rabbit and a viper. You couldn't look away.
He cupped you face gently, everything feeling like it was in slow motion.
(Summary: You're an insatiable energy stealing demon who likes negativity, Yoongi is a very negative nelly. Happy halloween month!)
warning! mentions of death, killing, slight suicidal thoughts (not rly but just beware ok)- don't read this one if you're triggered by any of these things please!
masterlist.
There comes a day in every little girl's life where all her dreams come true. For most women, it's the day they get married, or grow boobs, or have their first kiss.
Yours was a little different.
Yours was the day that you, a half-demon who enjoyed feeding off of negative energy in the form of killing people, hit the mega-load when you met the angriest man you had ever come across in your many years of existence: Min Yoongi.
"Who are you?"
You smiled, clasping your hands behind your back, deceptively innocent. That was a hard question to answer. Who are you? What are you? How did you get here? They were all the same overused reactions of every human who you crossed paths with.
"Doesn't matter," You said simply. "What matters more is why you're giving off such a negative energy. You're lucky it's just me. Could've been worse, you could've attracted something much more sinister."
"What the hell are you talking about?" The boy in front of you said, more alarmed than before.
You rolled your eyes and looked around- his room was cluttered, things thrown around carelessly. You turned back to the boy, small frame, cat eyes, full lips. He looked young, maybe around the age you turned into a demon at. You had no idea what someone so young was doing wishing someone else dead so intensely, but if he hadn't had such hatred on his mind then you wouldn't be here right now.
Because that's how it worked- people thinking about evil deeds attracted evil things, namely: you. You weren't quite human but you weren't a full fledged demon either, rather something in the middle, bending and swaying the rules of nature as you saw fit. You narrowed your eyes, leaning in towards him, "I'm talking about that nefarious little plot you're cooking up in your head. Who do you want dead?"
The boy blanched, jaw falling open before he shoved his body back against the wall in fear. He reacted viscerally to his innermost thoughts being exposed, as they all did. It always made you laugh, how scared humans were of everything when the biggest threat to their own existence was humans themselves.
"Don't worry," You assured, "I'm on your side here. You probably have a great reason for wanting whoever it is dead. You seem normal enough, there's no dead animals anywhere in here so... you can't be that crazy."
The boy didn't settle at your words, sliding down to a seated position on the floor, "I- What are you?"
You sighed and put your hands on your hips, staring down at him with an exhausted expression, "You can call me whatever you want- a demon, a monster, a pretty girl. It doesn't matter to me. Long story short, you've been thinking about killing someone. Let me do it for you- you skip jail time, I get a good meal out of it. Mutually beneficial, how about it, sexy?"
You added the pet name at the end for fun, but he really was sexy. Even scared shitless like he was now, you liked his hair and the shape of his nose. You liked the slope of his shoulders and the bulky strength to what really was a smaller frame. He looked like he could wrap his long arms around you and squeeze hard. You wondered what he felt like, if he was soft or firm or something in between. Whichever it was- He was pretty.
You liked pretty things.
"Leave me alone," He said stubbornly, "I don't want to kill anyone, I don't know what you're talking about."
You groaned, stomping your foot down indignantly. This was gonna be harder than you thought.
Thus began a long journey to get what you wanted, because there was no way you'd let another entity on the hunt for souls snake this chance away from you. You followed the boy, who's name you overheard one day as Min Yoongi. He was a music producer, spent most of his time in a dark room staring at a computer screen surrounded by speakers. It was convenient for you, allowed you to bother him all the time. He was funny too, always mumbling under his breath and glaring at you. You liked messing with him, liked following him around. He used to play whatever track he was working on out loud until he noticed you dancing behind him to the beat shamelessly. You could've sworn it made him laugh, his eyes staying on the way your hips moved for a fraction of a second too long before he turned the music off quickly, telling you to get lost instead.
Now you just sat around idly, sighing dramatically and hovering around him occasionally when you wanted attention from him. You never actually touched him, you wouldn't unless he said it was ok- even evil beings believed in consent (unless you were killing them, obviously).
"Are you just going to follow me around for the rest of my life?" He snapped one day, shoving his headphones off and sending you an annoyed look.
You were perched behind him on the couch he had in his studio, staring at him with wide eyes, "Well, you're giving off pretty strong negative vibes. I happen to feed on negativity, so, yeah. As long as you're this angry, I'll be here...waiting for you to just tell me who you want dead."
"I don't want anyone dead!" He snapped, scrunching his shoulders up dramatically. "C-Can anyone else see you?"
You shook your head, smiling at him sweetly, "Just you, sexy. And I don't believe you, I can feel the anger wafting off of you. It's making my mouth water, that's how strong it is."
"Stop calling me that," Yoongi snapped, unplugging his headphones. "Don't drool on my couch, you're so gross."
You laughed, throwing your head back carelessly. He shook his head in disbelief and mumbled something to himself, taking a deep breath to center himself before looking back at you. "So you're really...a demon?"
You shrugged, surprised he was making conversation with you for once when he had spent the past week ignoring you completely, "Sort of. I'm more of a...person who just happens to feed off of energy instead of food."
"Why do you kill for people?" He asked quietly, staring at his hands. "Do you have to?"
"No," You reasoned, scooting closer to him. "It's energy in general that I need- happiness, sadness, lust- I could use any of it. But I don't really like having to find someone to have sex with every single time I get hungry and killing people is just way more potent. You know how much energy a person releases when they die? Like, a crazy amount. Lasts weeks for me."
"Don't you get sick of being around negativity?"
You stopped, blinking rapidly. No one ever really asked you that question. You frowned, leaning back into the couch and crossing your arms pensively. Yoongi noticed a break in your usual overzealous personality and raised his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly. It was too quiet in this room. You looked around, suddenly feeling nervous.
You didn't like feeling nervous.
"God, you're so annoying," You snapped, frowning at him angrily. "Asking all of these questions when you won't even answer one of mine- who do you want me to kill?"
Yoongi licked his lips and looked at you blankly, eyebrows raised in a way that made you want to strangle him. You screamed out in frustration, not caring about your volume since no one but him could see or hear you anyway. He flinched slightly but didn't give the name up, which only made you angrier. You stomped a foot down and flashed out of the studio dramatically, thoroughly annoyed.
Who did that guy think he was? Maybe you should just forget about him, even if he had the most energy you had ever seen in your many, many years of being on earth. You spent the next two days focusing on the dozens of other people in the city who were also thinking about killing someone, all of them giving up their enemies' names almost instantly, even thanking you after the job was finished. This was how it was supposed to be, simple, wicked, methodical.
So why did you find yourself wondering where Yoongi was directly after finishing your last kill.
You rubbed your eyes tiredly, an after-meal grogginess setting in. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and lay there for awhile, half-demons needed sleep too, you know. You didn't normally get like this, usually killing 5 people in two days would be enough to charge you up for weeks, months, even. But for some reason, it wasn't working. There was a pit in your stomach that told you it was because fear and sadness weren't emotions that you craved. It was another kind of feeling that your body wanted.
Yoongi was harder to find this time. He wasn't giving off the same energy, the anger was there, but it wasn't the level that he was before. How had it faded so fast? What happened to the person he wanted dead? You found him at home this time, his apartment still a place unexplored much by you considering the fact that he was a workaholic, just like you. He had a beer in one hand and a blunt in the other, jumping in surprise when you appeared in front of him.
"Holy fuck- you're gonna give me a heart attack," He yelled, glaring at you.
You sneered at him, rolling your eyes, "That's not how I kill people."
You looked around his apartment- it was clean, minimalist but cozy. There was a dog pen in the corner and you wondered if he had a pet. That was cute, where was it? You got distracted picturing Yoongi cuddling a puppy, walking closer to the pen and frowning when you found it empty.
"I- I thought you left," Yoongi said behind you, watching you frown down at the empty space before turning back to him. You raised your eyebrows expectantly- did he miss you? "I mean, I thought I got rid of you."
Damn.
You smiled slightly at him, shrugging your shoulders, "I'm here to ask you again."
"I don't want to kill anyone," He insisted, collapsing on his couch and taking a slow drag of the blunt in his hand. You watched the smoke billow out around him and sat next to him, leaning towards him. "Are you sure your anger detector isn't off?"
"I'm beginning to think it's completely broken actually," You mumbled. He frowned, sending you a confused look that you ignored. You leaned closer to him, feeling an energy you couldn't really place radiating off of him. It wasn't anger, but it wasn't exactly lust either. You hadn't ever felt this before, but it was strong and your stomach grumbled slightly as you scanned his figure with your eyes, getting stuck on the way his fingers flicked the ash off his blunt and then brought it up to his lips slowly, taking another hit with his eyes trained on yours. "Tell me why you were so angry before."
He stayed silent for a second, french inhaling his hit and then wiggling his eyebrows at you humorously. You raised your eyebrows teasingly, breaking the tension for a moment before he sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, "I was angry at myself."
"Huh?" You snapped.
"You asked who I wanted dead- I didn't want to die, obviously. I was just...over everything." He shrugged. "I was having a lot of writer's block, went days without talking to anyone."
You sat back suddenly, realizing the mistake you had made. Guilt washed over your body, another feeling you weren't comfortable with. "I'm so sorry," You said quickly, "I am so sorry. That- I mean, I didn't know. I shouldn't have followed you around."
Yoongi laughed, setting the blunt down in favor for the beer in his hand, "Don't you kill people for a living?"
But I'd never kill you.
You stared at the ground, pushing the thought away because you didn't understand it. You didn't like humans, which is why you liked killing them. They were rude, and annoying, and fickle. This one was different though, this one...you liked this human.
"Don't apologize, you made the feeling go away, actually." He sighed, "Hadn't you noticed I was working the entire time you were with me? Something about being haunted by you is particularly inspiring, I guess. You're pretty bad at your job."
"Clearly," You agreed, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you. "I guess I don't have to ask you the question anymore."
"I have questions for you, though." Yoongi said, eyes boring into you. You raised your eyebrows expectantly, prompting him to ask. "Can- If I reached out a hand right now, would I be able to touch you?"
You nodded silently, watching him set down his beer and reach towards you slowly, fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. You felt heat where he touched you, igniting your skin so quickly you gasped loudly, leaning towards him. You pouted when he reached for your hair instead, twirling a piece around his long fingers delicately with a smirk on his face.
"You seem different- did you...eat?" He asked quietly, eyes trained on the piece of hair he was weaving in and out of his fingertips.
You nodded silently again, hoping he'd touch you again, "It was completely unsatisfying. It didn't...let's just say, it didn't make my mouth water."
"Didn't have the same effect on you as I do, huh?" He smiled, looking at you with a knowing glint in his eye.
You blinked rapidly, reaching your own hand out and looking at him for approval, which he gave in the from of a slightly nod. You flattened your palm over his heart, solid mass under your touch. You felt electrified even touching him through the thin fabric of a t-shirt, smiling happily at the warm feeling sweeping through your hand and up your arm. If this was how you felt without direct contact, you could only imagine what it would feel like to...
"You said you could feed off of whatever energy you wanted, before- right?" He mumbled, scooting closer towards you so that his face was inches away from yours, electric charges pushing and pulling the pair of you near each other like magnets. "I vaguely remember lust being mentioned?"
"Y-yeah," You stuttered, staring at his lips as if that would will him to kiss you. You didn't have that ability, unfortunately. All you could do was take what he gave you, whether that was hate or love was up to him.
"Theoretically, if we just slept together when you needed energy- would you have to kill anyone else ever again?" He mused, eyes heavy with intention.
You froze, eyes staring up at him in surprise. Would he do that? You've heard of other things like you surviving off of similar relationships, but it was high maintenance and required a level of devotion you didn't believe was possible, which was why most half-demons settled for fucking anything in sight. But the energy Yoongi was giving off was different- you wouldn't settle for anything other than him. If you couldn't have him like this, you'd rather just kill for energy and be unsatisfied forever instead of fucking anyone else.
"That's asking for a lot," You reasoned, "I would require a constantly supply of...you."
"Let's test it out," He shrugged.
You were about to argue but his lips were on yours suddenly and you felt like your entire body was set on fire, a shudder going through your body as he grabbed the back of your neck roughly and pulled you to him.
You wound your arms around his neck, whimpering when you felt the steel of his cock pressing into your abdomen, climbing over him to straddle his lap. You wanted more of him, as much of him as he'd give you. You'd swallow him whole and it still wouldn't be enough. His arms circled your waist, a large hand gripping your ass and the other coming up to the back of your head, holding you against him. He pressed his forehead against yours, "Close enough?"
"Not nearly," You mumbled, pressing your lips against his roughly. You didn't do slow- you withered under his touch, impatient hands smoothing over his firm body. Strong shoulders, rippling muscles, warm heat- you hadn't felt this amount of lust ever in your entire life. No- it wasn't lust, this was an entirely new beast.
You moaned against his lips, tongue dragging against your lower lip like a match against strike paper. Your head was spinning and you felt so overwhelmed you were about to pass out, feeling the strong muscle slide into your mouth and tangle with your own tongue, thrusting into your mouth with a familiar pattern. He groaned against you, hand still kneading your ass as yours squeezed his biceps sharply.
"Is killing still more potent than me?" He grumbled, teeth biting down on your lip as a punctuation, pleasure racing through your bloodstream.
You pulled back slightly, pushing your face against his neck obstinately, "No- not even close. We have to stop here if you can't promise me this will happen again. I- I'm gonna get addicted."
"I have every intention of having you again and again," He clarified, sinking a hand into your hair, letting you hide your face from him for a moment. "I can't promise you forever, I'm only human. I want you now, though. I'll want you tomorrow and the next day. I promise- it'll happen again."
You pulled away from him and stared at him, trying to see if there was any trace of a lie in his eyes. There wasn't- only bare vulnerability.
"Touch me," You whispered, your tone leaning more towards begging than you had intended to. His hands pulled away from your body and cupped your face, fingers stroking your cheeks with a softness you weren't used to.
You weren't used to humans treating you like this, like you were the fragile one. Yoongi was the one who could get hurt in this, you were the one who murdered people- so why was he the one with the upperhand right now?
Why were you so okay with it?
Your face felt warm where he held it, comforting, in a way that had you smiling at him, nose scrunching up slightly. He smiled back and moved a hand to your lower back, gently lowering you so that you were laying on the couch. He pulled his shirt off over his head and you made grabby hands towards him, "Skin- on me, now." You ordered, pulling your shirt off quickly.
He laughed and laid on top of you, bodies pressed against each other. You kissed him needily, hoping you could have this forever, hoping he'd want you forever. Yoongi pulled away too quickly and you whined, Yoongi reprimanding you in the form of a sharp pinch to your side, which you enjoyed a little too much. You couldn't see his face but you could tell he was smiling, kissing down the length of your body and stopping when he got to your breasts, heavy with need and nipples hard.
He laved a tongue over your breasts, smiling even harder against your skin when you let out a shaky moan. He drew your nipple into your mouth, rolling the aching bud over with his tongue. Your hips rocked against him, trying to relieve the tension you were holding in your body. You wondered where his hands were going until you felt his touch around your pussy, pushing under the waistband of your pants and dipping inside to find you wet, "Already?"
"You're giving off a lot of energy, ok?" You snapped, your next sarcastic comment dying when he sunk two fingers into your sex, stretching you well.
"Yeah- my energy, whatever." He laughed, eyes locked on your face with cocky satisfaction. "Maybe once you switch diets you'll behave."
"I-I'm not a pet," You whined, having a hard time carrying a conversation when his thumb was rubbing against your clit.
"Oh?" He asked, quirking his eyebrows slightly. "You don't want to be my pet? You don't want to belong to me?"
Whatever response you should've had died on your tongue, bowing into his body, hand tightening around his hair and yanking hard. He hissed in pain, glaring down at you slightly before pinching your clit in response. You glared back at him but forgave him as soon as he smoothed his fingers through your folds nicely, pulling out of you completely a moment after. You watched him pull his slick fingers to his lips and suck, jaw falling slack- Christ, you wanted him bad.
"Take your pants off," He ordered, free hand already snapping the button off of his own jeans. You followed his command quickly, looking back up at him with wide eyes after, dropping your gaze to his cock a moment after. Thick, veiny, and pink all over. You could see the glossy sheen of pre-cum on the tip as his erection rested lazily against his lower belly, your vision going red for a moment. You felt your mouth salivate and you blinked blankly at his cock, rendered speechless.
"Again- don't drool on my couch," he snapped, gripping your thighs in his hands and splitting your legs roughly, "Keep your legs spread for me, baby."
"You're a menace- are you sure you're not part demon?" You snapped,finding your words.
"Do I have to use a condom?" He frowned, ignoring you with one hand gripped around his cock, stroking himself slowly as he lined himself up with your pussy.
You shook your head and laughed, laying your head back on the couch, "Nope- not a human, can't get pregnant."
"Good," He grunted, "Wanna fuck you the right way- give you what you need."
"Y-yeah, I need it," You agreed, bracing yourself as he thrust himself into you in one smooth motion. You moaned loudly, not caring how embarrassing it was that he had this effect on you when he was this hard and this big and was filling you this amazingly. He let out out a guttural groan sinking into you.
"You feel so fucking g-good," He groaned, face screwing up. "You're a god- you feel so good around me."
God? Close- but not quite.
An unreadable expression came over Yoongi's face, hovered above you with a rapturous look on his face, tugging your legs around his waist to give him more control, as if he didn't already have it all. You felt lost, weak, your entire body melting into his searing touch, hands closing over your breasts and kneading roughly. Yoongi leaned down towards you, lips resting against yours, "I think I'm okay with you being addicted to me."
"O-okay," You nodded weakly, eyes glazed over. His hair was damn and sticking to his forehead, skin still burning against yours. How was he so warm? Why did you still want more of him?
He slammed into you again and kissed you, tongue first. "Have you ever felt this good, this pleased?"
"N-no," You sobbed, feeling tears build in your eyes. He kissed you sloppily, fucking your mouth at the same pace as he fucked your pussy. A new wave of heat passed over you and you felt your pussy drench his cock, pulsing uncontrollably with each thrust of his cock. Each stroke brought you closer to orgasming but you wanted to hold on for him, wanted this to last forever but the words Yoongi was saying in your ear were making you spin.
"Cum," He ordered, feeling your pussy tighten around him to an almost painful limit. It's not enough- having him once, cumming once. It's not enough. You felt panic boil up in your body, nervous that this was the last time you'd feel this way, the last time he'd want you like this, until his hand closed around your throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I said, cum."
It was all you needed to shove you off the cliff you had been dangling off of. Yoongi pressed his body into yours, giving you as much of him as he could as he came with you, filling you to the brim. You whimpered his name softly, tears flowing freely as your muscles spasmed, milking him for as long as he'd let you before he pulled out of you. You felt his cum drip out of you and he rolled off the couch, landing on the soft carpet with a soft 'thud', grabbing you by the arm so you tumbled down with him, cheek landing on his bicep.
You laid on top of him, sweaty and heart beating erratically for a moment. You listened to him breath, feeling more alive than ever. This is what it was supposed to feel like when you were full- so, incredibly full.
"Are you satiated?" He asked lamely, still slightly out of breath. "Nice and fed?"
You lifted your head, sending him a pointed look, "Yeah, I am."
"Great." He smiled, "Glad we tested that out- you can just go ahead and stop killing people now, just fuck me instead."
You stared at him, wide eyes. He looked back at you and smiled, eyes crinkling in a sincere way that made you want to cry all over again, "Okay...but I'm warning you now, I can be insatiable."
"I don't see that being a problem," He assured, closing his eyes with a sleepy smile on his face. "I'll keep up, don't worry about it."
You nodded eagerly and laid your head down on his chest, humming happily when you felt the warm seep through your cheek.
"You wanna go again now?" You joked, earning a light pinch to your side.
"Don't get greedy," He snapped, his words sharp but his hand drifted to your pussy, already playing with your folds softly. You sighed happily, adjusting your position so he had better access to you.
Summary: As a hunter you’ve had many run ins with the demon V, who enjoys playing with you by leaving a trail of bloody bodies, fights, and flirting. You swear to take down the demon, but what happens when there’s more to him than meets the eye?
Written for the BTS Ghostie Writers Bingo Bash. Prompt: Demon!AU
Water drips from your body, leaving a trail behind you. It’s messy and you don’t like it, but an umbrella and raincoat are a couple of things you don’t keep stored in your car. No, instead the trunk is filled with a variety of guns, knives, salt, and vials made of glass, which contain potions from your favorite witch.
Your leather jacket protects your upper body from the weather, but your ripped jeans are soaked. The baseball cap on your head is nearly saturated, but at least the curved bill kept the rain out of your eyes. Thankfully, your boots are, for the most part, waterproof.
There’s no time to worry about the rain or the trail you’re making. Though, a life is at stake, you fear you’re too late. The demon you are chasing is too clever, calculating, and sinister. Instead of barreling into abandoned Victorian houses, you usually prefer discretion; yet, there is no point now that he knows you are here, and for said reason, he’s baiting you. Knowing this particular demon, he most likely already knew you were on his tail, following him at least two towns back. Hell, the bastard might’ve known since the very beginning, back when you investigated the first murder.
⇥ genre: supernatural au with action, angst, (eventual) smut, and (trace amounts of) fluff
⇥ summary: a series in which the reader fights to survive, attracts a powerful group of demons, and causes general mayhem in a post-apocalyptic new world
If you told me years ago that the apocalypse would happen in my lifetime, I would shrug and say, “Sure, Jan.” But now as I navigate the dried plains of Earth, I realize that I was a fool.
Last year, Hell came out to play. Demons now walked among those of us who survived the Scorch – the catastrophic reaping of souls to both heaven and hell. Those humans that remained – me included – were deemed “uncategorizable” and, therefore, remained on the dying planet to fend for themselves.
We residual humans were a ruthless bunch with questionable backgrounds and morals. We had to be. It was a live, kill, or die world. After the Scorch, civilization crumbled, leaving behind total anarchy. However, it didn’t take long for factions to form, typically led by demons.
Learning more about demons – and not dying in the process – was tough but necessary. Basically, I found out that demons tended to group together in what was known as Sevens – units consisting of each deadly sin. These groups held the most power due to their combined skills and overall formidably strong bond.
The most powerful of Sevens was called Bangtan. Rumor had it that Bangtan ruled this new Earth and that all other factions were just their lowly consorts. I hoped to never encounter them. Ever.
Too bad they had other plans.
| the bangtan seven
Kim Namjoon: The Leader
Demon of Greed, the sin of desire
Tendencies include hoarding of materials or objects, theft or robbery, especially by means of violence, trickery, or manipulation of authority
Kim Seokjin: The Entertainer
Demon of Pride, the sin of vanity
Tendencies include an excessive belief in one's own abilities and irrationally believing one is essentially and necessarily better, superior, or more important than others
Min Yoongi: The Fixer
Demon of Sloth, the sin of apathy
Tendencies include a general absence of interest, a neglect for social expectations and an uncaring attitude towards getting one’s hands dirty
Jung Hoseok: The Treasurer
Demon of Gluttony, the sin of overindulgence
Tendencies include an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires and an excessive desire for pleasure
Park Jimin: The Lover
Demon of Lust, the sin of intense longing
Tendencies include an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body and desire in general (lust for money, power, etc.)
Kim Taehyung: The Collector
Demon of Envy, the sin of deprivation
Tendencies include the insatiable desire to deprive other men of their belongings, to gain sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low and to inflict pain
Jeon Jungkook: The Enforcer
Demon of Wrath, the sin of vengeance
Tendencies include impatience, a desire for excessive punishment and a love of corrupt justice
You’re supposed to be a good girl. You’re supposed to be kind and patient and virtuous. To do as you’re told and make your parents happy... but that wasn’t you. Not the real you, at least. You might have been an angel, but fuck, all you wanted to do was sin. — incubus!akaashi x fallen-angel!f.reader
