nsfw 18+ only
soft dom vibes, body worship, consent is sexy, they’re obsessed with making you cum before they even think about themselves.
song rec while reading: Earned It – The Weeknd (put it on loop, dim the lights, thank me later ❤️)
Kim Namjoon
Namjoon is all about observation and perfection. The second the bedroom door clicks shut he’s pulling you against his chest, big hands sliding under your shirt like he’s memorizing every curve. “Tell me how you want me tonight, baby,” he murmurs in that deep voice that makes your knees weak. He’ll drop to his knees without hesitation, spreading your thighs wide and eating you like he’s studying your body for a thesis slow, deliberate licks, two thick fingers curling just right while his eyes stay locked on yours. He doesn’t stop until you’ve come at least twice, thighs shaking around his head, and only then does he let you pull him up, voice hoarse as he whispers, “Good girl… now let me feel you.”
Kim Seokjin
Jin is playful but possessive as hell when it comes to your pleasure. He’ll pin you to the mattress with that handsome grin, kissing down your body while cracking soft jokes just to hear your breathy laugh turn into a moan. “My princess deserves to be spoiled, hm?” He takes his sweet time with his mouth tongue flicking, lips sucking, fingers teasing until you’re gripping his hair and begging. He loves the way you sound when you fall apart, so he’ll keep going, overstimulating you just enough to make your eyes roll back. Only after you’ve soaked his chin and are panting his name like a prayer does he finally slide inside you, groaning, “Fuck… you’re so pretty when you cum for me.”
Min Yoongi
Yoongi is quiet intensity personified. He doesn’t need to say much he just lays you down gently, lips brushing your inner thighs while his dark eyes watch every twitch of your body. “Relax for me,” he rasps, voice gravelly from sleep or studio hours. His tongue is lazy but devastatingly precise, sucking your clit like he has all night (because he does). He’ll add fingers slowly, scissoring and curling until you’re arching off the bed, and he keeps that same unhurried pace even when you’re crying his name. He won’t touch himself until you’ve come undone at least three times, then he finally lets you pull him on top, murmuring against your lips, “That’s it… now you can have me.”
Jung Hoseok
Hobi is sunshine even in bed, but the moment he senses you need him he turns into pure focused heat. He’ll kiss you stupid first, then slide down your body with that bright smile that never fades. “Wanna make you feel so good, baby,” he breathes before burying his face between your legs like it’s his favorite dance. His tongue moves in rhythms only he knows fast, then slow, then circling until your hips are grinding against his mouth. He moans into you the whole time, hands gripping your thighs like he’s scared you’ll disappear. He won’t stop until you’re shaking and seeing stars, and even then he’s still smiling when he finally slides in, whispering, “My turn to feel how wet you are for me.”
Park Jimin
Jimin is the king of sensual eye contact. He’ll undress you slowly, kissing every inch of skin he reveals while whispering how beautiful you are. “Look at me,” he murmurs as he settles between your thighs, plush lips wrapping around your clit like it’s the only thing that matters. His fingers are magic gentle but firm, curling and stroking while he sucks and licks in perfect sync. He drinks in every moan, every flutter of your lashes, never once looking away. He’ll edge you sweetly, bringing you right to the brink and pulling back just to hear you whine his name, then finally letting you crash over the edge again and again. Only when you’re boneless and glowing does he let you touch him, voice shaking, “You first… always you first.”
Kim Taehyung
Taehyung treats your pleasure like art. He’ll have you on your back, legs over his shoulders, while he kisses and bites marks into your inner thighs like he’s painting a masterpiece. “So pretty like this,” he growls in that deep voice, tongue diving in like he’s starving for you. He’s creative switching between long, slow licks and quick flicks, fingers joining in ways that make you see galaxies. He talks you through it the whole time, voice low and velvet, telling you exactly how you taste, how you clench around his fingers, how he could stay here forever. He doesn’t stop until you’ve come so many times you’re crying his name, then he finally lets you pull him up, kissing you deep as he slides home.
Jeon Jungkook
Jungkook is eager but disciplined the golden maknae knows how to control himself when it comes to you. He’ll start by kissing you breathless, then work his way down with those big doe eyes full of hunger. “Wanna make you cum first, always,” he breathes before his mouth is on you, tongue flat and hungry, sucking and licking like he’s been dreaming about this. His hands are everywhere pinning your hips, spreading you wider, fingers pumping deep while he moans into your core. He’s competitive even here, determined to pull more orgasms from you than last time. Only after you’re a trembling, oversensitive mess does he finally let you wrap your legs around him, voice wrecked as he groans, “Fuck… now I get to feel you.”
reblog if you’d let them ruin you in this order~
(also stream Earned It and pretend it’s their voices in your ear, you’re welcome)
HEESEUNG is sitting on the couch, your legs tangled with his. He’s scrolling on his phone with one hand, the other resting lazily on your thigh. You bite your lip before murmuring, “Heeseung… can you kiss your favourite part of my body?”
He pauses, turning his head to look at you with a soft, surprised smile. “My favourite part?” he repeats, voice low and warm. He sets his phone aside and gently cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “That’s a dangerous question, baby.”
You nod, a little shy, and he leans in slowly, placing a lingering kiss right on the corner of your lips before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Honestly?” he whispers, voice husky, “I love your smile the most. The way your eyes crinkle when you’re really happy.” He kisses the corner of your mouth again, softer this time.
“But if I had to pick one spot… it’s right here.” His lips brush the sensitive skin just below your ear, then trail down to your neck where he presses a slow, warm kiss that makes you shiver. “Because when I kiss you here, I can feel your pulse race. And I know you’re mine.”
JAY is cooking in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, when you hop onto the counter beside him, watching him chop vegetables. The domestic scene makes your heart feel full. After a while, you quietly say, “Jay… kiss your favourite part of me?”
He stops mid-chop, raising an eyebrow with that signature half-smile. “Right now? While I’m cooking?” But he wipes his hands on a towel and steps between your legs, hands settling on your waist. “Alright, princess. Tell me why you’re asking.” You shrug, smiling shyly. He chuckles softly.
“I love your hands,” he admits, taking one of your hands and pressing slow kisses to your knuckles, then turning it over to kiss your palm.
“They’re so small compared to mine, and they fit perfectly when we hold hands. But my real favorite…” He trails off, sliding his hands under your shirt just enough to expose a strip of your stomach. He bends down and places a tender, lingering kiss right on the soft skin of your lower belly.
“Right here. Because it’s warm and it’s you. And one day, if we’re lucky, this is where our future will grow.” He looks up at you with soft eyes, still pressing small kisses there. “You’re my favourite everything.”
You’re both lying on the bed, JAKE 's head resting on your stomach as you play with his hair. The room is quiet except for his occasional sleepy hums. You gather your courage and whisper, “Jake… can you kiss your favourite part of my body?”
He lifts his head instantly, eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Wait, seriously?” He crawls up until he’s hovering over you, nose brushing yours. “You sure you want me to pick just one?”
When you nod, he grins and starts planting playful kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids making you giggle.
But he doesn’t stop. He moves lower, kissing the inside of your thigh, slow and reverent. “ I love your thighs the most. They’re so soft and warm, and when you let me rest my head here…” He nuzzles closer, leaving another kiss. “It feels like home. Plus, they look really good wrapped around me.” He winks. “Thank you for letting me love every inch of you, baby.”
SUNGHOON is sitting on the floor with you between his legs, your back against his chest, as you both watch a movie. During a quiet scene, you turn your head slightly and whisper, “Hoon… kiss your favourite part of my body?”
He pauses the movie without a word, arms tightening around your waist. For a moment he just breathes against your hair, thinking. Then he gently turns you around to face him. “Come here,” he says softly.
He starts with a kiss to your collarbone, slow and deliberate, then moves up to your jaw. “I like your collarbones,” he admits quietly.
“They look so delicate when you wear those off-shoulder tops.” But he keeps going, cupping your face and pressing his lips to your closed eyelids. “Actually… my favourite is your eyes.” He kisses each eyelid softly. “When you look at me, everything else disappears. But if I have to pick a spot I can kiss forever…”
He leans down and places a lingering kiss on your chest right above your heart. “Here. Because I can feel how fast your heart beats when I’m close. And it tells me you feel the same way I do.”
SUNOO has you sitting on his lap on the couch, arms wrapped around you as he shows you funny videos on his phone. When the laughter dies down, you shyly ask, “Sunoo… can you kiss your favourite part of me?”
His eyes light up instantly, a bright smile spreading across his face. “Aww, baby, that’s adorable!” He cups your cheeks and starts peppering kisses all over them, making you laugh. “I love your cheeks the most,” he declares between kisses. “They get so round and cute when you smile big.”
But then he lifts your hand and kisses each fingertip. “And your hands… they’re so pretty when you hold mine.”
Finally, he presses the sweetest kiss to the top of your head, lingering there. “But honestly? My favourite is your hair. It always smells like your shampoo, and it feels so soft when I play with it at night.”
He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply before kissing it again. “Every part of you is my favourite.”
JUNGWON is lying beside you on the bed, tracing lazy patterns on your arm. The room is peaceful until you whisper your request: “Won… kiss your favourite part of my body?”
He stops tracing and looks at you with those eyes, a small smile forming. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” he teases as he sits up a little and pulls you closer.
First he kisses your forehead, then the bridge of your nose. “I love your nose,” he says softly. “It scrunches up when you’re trying not to laugh.”
He moves lower, pressing a kiss to your chin, then to the hollow of your throat. “But the one i love the most…”
He slides the strap of your top down just a little and places a warm, lingering kiss on your shoulder. “Right here. Your shoulders carry so much, but they’re still so soft. When you let me hold you like this, it feels like you’re trusting me with everything.”
He kisses the same spot again, slower. “I want to be the one who makes sure these shoulders never feel too heavy.”
NIKI is sprawled on the couch with you half on top of him, his long legs tangled with yours. Some song is playing in the background when you muster the courage to say, “Riki… can you kiss your favourite part of my body?”
He freezes for a second, then lets out a soft laugh, cheeks turning a little pink. “Wait, you’re serious?” He sits up slightly, pulling you with him so you’re straddling his lap. “Okay….”
He lifts the hem of your shirt, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your waist. “I love your waist,” he murmurs against your skin. “It fits perfectly in my hands when I pull you close.”
He then turns you around to expose your lower back and presses a surprisingly tender kiss right there, right above the waistband of your pants.
“But this… your lower back,” he murmurs against your skin. “It’s one of my favourites. When I hug you from behind and my hand rests here, it feels like I’m holding all of you.”
He leaves another slow kiss. “And honestly… I love every single part. But if I had to choose one to kiss forever, it would be wherever makes you feel the most loved.”
❪ note ❫ ! heyy!!! as promised, this is my 200 followers special ^^ tysm again to all of you for reading and supporting me, fr means the world ><
synopsis: The big bang signified the universes creation, but also it's destruction. Regardless of the side of history you lie on, you are the catalyst either way.
ot7 bts x f.reader (poly)
ㄨ : wc: 10.7k
ㄨ : genre: yandere au, a/b/o au, zombie apocalypse au, survival thriller, dark “romance”, dark content
ㄨ : content: alpha bts!, omega!reader, post apocalyptic themes, hiding of second gender, light panic attacks, unreliable narrators, one flashback (1st scene), light torture in a flashback, references to dead bodies, namjoon kills someone, yoongi is a lil angsty, delusional jk (we’re never escaping him), major character injury (!!), bombs, explosions, light angst, light fluff, mostly action, omega stereotypes (omegaphobia? lol), hoseok is insane i fear, omg reader is back too i missed her, light religious symbolism, hoseok is a sadist and a masochist lowk, blood, guns, general violence, referenced masturbation, lowk i thought there were more? Lmk if i missed anything!! -> series warnings here
ㄨ : notes: HAPPY ARIRANG I AM OBSESSED WITH THE ALBUM AND ALSO SORRY FOR HOSEOK HE'S A BIT OF A MESS <3 Our little reader gets to meet the pack soon! Yippee!
ㄨ : chapter 4 <- index -> chapter 6
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
THEN.
BANG!
Seokjin’s form crouches low to the ground, his thighs spread while his arms hang precariously over his knees, wrists limp as they settle angling towards the ground. He simply just stares.
Well, the business deal Seokjin’s alpha was trying to procure had certainly gone south, that much is clear enough.
In front of him, lying on the floor, is one of the Jeon clan’s higher ups– clan’s beta, if Seokjin’s sources were correct
They were.
Though now, he looks like nothing more than a neutered puppy. The man's whimpering certainly doesn’t help with the picture either. It almost makes Seokjin want to laugh.
Namjoon is crouched on the other side of the body– body because that is simply what this man is, if he doesn’t start to give them answers. He doesn’t have much of a face left now anyway, so he might as well be.
The pack alpha’s hand is fisted into the betas hair, the tendon in his arms twitching from the effort of forcing the man's head into the ground over, and over, and over again. Slamming his head into the cold hardwood floor of the office, other bodies scattered around their forms.
The pool of red is still growing.
The pack alpha is huffing, there is a glorious fire in his eyes. Seokjin thinks he looks beautiful.
“Should I ask you again?” Seokjin questions, head tilting to the side. A small, placid smile dotting the corner of his lips, condescension radiating from his entire being as Namjoon pulls the man's head up just high enough once more.
What an ugly thing he has become. Maybe he’s the unlucky one, the lucky ones are probably the corpses scattered across the floor. At least they didn’t have to undergo their combined fury.
He should have just given Seokjin the answers he wanted already.
Seokjin sighs once more, looking up at Namjoon, “It doesn’t seem like he wants to, does it?”
Seokjin registers the opening of the office door. Huh, he really did not think anyone else was in the house today. Not that it matters much, Seokjin will deal with them the exact same way.
He sighs, closing his eyes as he stands. His arms feel tight in his suit, but he raises one anyway. Cresting it on the same side of his neck where Namjoon had left his bite, using its force to aid him in cracking his neck.
Seokjin doesn’t have time to dilly dally. He’ll be sure to make this quick.
The intruder relieves a sharp gasp from his lungs, the lazy drawl of Seokjin’s lids to draw upwards, taking him in for the very first time.
Soft, perfectly cut straight brown hair. Large doe eyes. Perfectly sculpted nose with little moles dotting around his face in constallations.
Seokjin’s recognition of him is instantaneous.
Jeon Jeongguk. 23. Important.
The Jeon pack alpha’s only child. The last progeny remaining in their all-alpha familial line.
Well damn, Seokjin was sure he wasn’t here. From the information Seokjin gathered before setting out to the groups's territory, the kid was practically treated as royalty. Spoiled rotten, coddled. There were even rumours he had never gone outside before.
Seokjin didn’t believe them, of course not, that would be a rather auspicious thing to do. But with how much he had heard about Jeongguk’s treatment, he didn't think they would just let the kid wander around on his own in a clan meeting house like this. He doubted Jeongguk would be involved in territorial conflicts at all. He was a member of the familial pack, not the territorial one like Seokjin… interogates… now. The distinction is clear as clear as day.
Looks like his intel may have been wrong.
Not only is he here and involved with them, he looks like a deer in headlights. His cheeks are turning a bright shade of red. It looks as though there are sparkles in his eyes. To be honest, Seokjin is taken aback. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but not something so… passionate. Something so devoted.
Is…. is this kid staring at Namjoon with… admiration…? While Namjoon has Jeongguk’s mom’s right hand is in a bloodied heap on the floor?
Huh. Well, this is certainly a surprising change of tune.
“S-Sir! Please leave! Don’t get yourself involved with this!” Huh, so the body still did have a voice. He was sure Namjoon had squeezed it out of him by now. Regardless, the words have Seokjin turning his head back towards the mess on the floor, back towards his alpha.
Oh. Seokjin’s eyes go wide.
Namjoon is staring right back at Jeongguk, that same star-crossed lovers expression on his face. Looking at him like the universe just changed for the better.
Turning back towards the younger, Seokjin confirms it– they are simply enamoured with one another.
When he makes the motion, when all the attention in the room is directly only at Jeongguk, it is clear the kid notices. His posture straightens, his chest puffing out just slightly. The most determined look that Seokjin has ever seen is as obvious as ever written across his features.
One of his arms raises up– certainly not the arms of someone who has had experience fighting– a single finger pointing towards both Seokjin and Namjoon. A cocksure smile on the pure alphas lips.
The world spins. This is nothing like Seokjin had been expecting out of the day.
“I want you.” He pauses, the determined smile blooming brighter. Seokjin doesn’t know how the kid could be so positive in such a thing– Seokjin needs time to fall, he guesses Jeongguk doesn’t. “Both of you.”
A sickening crack sounds throughout the room, the betas death as clear as day, though no one really pays attention. Instead, everything revolves around Namjoon rising to a stand right next to Seokjin, a similar smile on his own face.
“I feel like there are a few questions you should be asking instead of just saying something so bold.” All the rage Namjoon spoke with before the entry of Jeongguk is gone, a similar confident air in his tone. “Like who are we, why are we in your office. Why we just killed your clans beta.”
“I don’t care.” Jeongguk, though Seokjin just met him, looks like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “I didn’t like him anyway. He was shitty at taking care of me.”
Spoiled.
Namjoon hums, “Shouldn’t you be worried we’re going to kill you, too?”
Jeongguk thinks for a second, eyes looking up at the ceiling as he considers. “No. You want me.”
Maybe not spoiled. Maybe just sheltered if he thinks that simply about such things.
“You’ll have to deal with a few more than just us.” Namjoon leans forward a bit, the air around him bending to his will. Haughty. Attractive. “We have 4 other mates.”
Oh. Jeongguk now looks as though he is simply vibrating with delight. His teeth– ones Seokjin notices look like a bunnies– make an appearance, biting his lower lip.
“I want them, too.”
Well, Seokjin’s dealings are certain to become a lot more smooth from this point onwards.
NOW.
Jeongguk hasn’t slept.
Well, okay, to be honest, he’s not sure he remembers the last time he actually had a full nights rest.
Wait– no, that isn’t true either. The last night he did it was the night after he saw you for the first time, he remembers it clearly, actually. He would rather die than forget it. He would never in a million years forget dreaming of you.
He was in the woods, you were there too, obviously. Scampering between trees, looking so cute and playful. God, you were so fucking adorable– calling out to him, asking him to chase you.
Fuck, who was he to say no? He simply he complied. He would be an idiot to deny you of anything ever.
When he caught you? It felt like the last of his dreams had finally come true.
You were giggling underneath him, his body pinning you down by your shoulders. Your eyes in the prettiest little crests that he kissed over and over again.
He remembers the end, where you made him promise to find you when he woke up, too.
…Yeah.
He hasn’t had a full night's rest since then. But especially last night, last night he didn’t get a wink. Not even the half-hearted nap he usually gets by on.
How was he supposed to sleep after Joon broke the news that they would be going to your house the very next day? The house that he knows belongs to you now, all thanks to Yoongi. The house where– where–
Jeongguk clenches his fist, lets his nails dig into the skin of his palms as a way to manage the putrid smell that was already beginning to leak from his pores. In the tight confines of the armoured truck, he knows everyone else will be able to smell it.
Should he really care? Probably not. But he doesn’t want the second– first?-- time you smell him to be so… so unpleasant. He wants you to smell the real him. The alpha who your heart and soul belong to, the one you’ll build a future with. The one that can provide for you, that can take you out of whatever hell you’ve been keeping yourself in–
How long would it take before you let him give you a bite? How long will it take for you to give one to him?
Soon, hopefully. God, he can’t even count how many times he’s stroked his cock to the thought of your cute little fangs piercing the skin of his neck. How blown out your eyes would be with pretty red dotting your mouth. Do you even know that he saved the left side of his neck for you? Waited so many years just for his perfect omega to leave tangible evidence on his skin of your simple belonging to one another.
… Well, he hasn’t thought about it in awhile, but the point still stands. He hasn’t been able to, not since your face began to retain the essence of a shadowless blob whenever you appear in his mind, when you appear in front of him. Just…just out of reach.
Fucking had been in reach for over two weeks.
His top lip curls at the thought. He reminds himself to stop thinking such shitty things.
It doesn’t work.
He just needs to see you, and then everything will be right again. He’ll be able to protect you. His pack will be complete. The last piece of his soul, the part that felt like it has been missing will finally click into place.
Everything will be perfect.
You’ll be perfect.
Jeongguk forces his head back into reality as the wheels of the vehicle roll to a stop. His neck cocking to the side, deep eyes locking on Seokjin in the driver's seat. The clicking of metal registers in his ears, his hand clenching around the barrel of his semi-automatic a little tighter, the gun propped up against the floor, muzzle facing the sky.
“We're here.” Seokjin hums, completely carefree. Jeongguk isn’t sure how, to be honest. “We have a bit of a hike, if Jimin’s map is right.”
Today determines the rest of his future… do they not get that? Of course they don’t. They don’t understand what you and him have, no matter how much they might try to. They don’t understand the levels at which his entirety calls out to you.
He’s already reaching for the handle of the door, his entire body itching to leave, when another voice stops him– Joons’, “Gguk-ah, do a scan for us.”
His nose scrunches up while a little wrinkle finds itself between his brows, “Huh? Why me?”
That isn’t his job. He’s not good at that sort of thing.
At that, Joon only shrugs, handing the binoculars back behind him, “I trust you more to do it.”
Heat washes over Jeongguk instantly. The simple words have an even simpler effect on his body– his ears and eyes perk up a bit more, right alone with his chest swelling. No matter how much he just wants to get moving, that line has Jeongguk already hauling his upper half through the sunroof of the armoured vehicle, eyes scanning the distance.
From the top of the hill the pack has managed to find themself on, looking off into the distance is an easy task. Any subtle clearing is discovered, especially the very one they think contains your cabin.
Jeongguk sees it easily, mentally comparing it to the map he had been studying the entire ride over– the piece of paper that Jimin and Taehyung marked your approximate location on. Seems like they were paying enough attention to get that right, at least. Even if they might have messed up your potential first meeting.
No. As much as Jeongguk is angry at them, he’s even more upset with Yoongi. At least Jimin and Tae could plead ignorance. What they did was only a reaction to Yoongi.
What Yoongi did to him was straight malice.
Hiding you. Keeping you after he found out you were an omega. Only confirming it after Jeongguk was on the verge of a breakdown because he couldn’t fucking remember–
He takes another deep breath, centering himself. He’s lucky he’s been practicing the breathing exercises Seokjin-hyung has been prescribing and that the thought of meeting you soon is somewhat settling.
“Yeah. House is where Jimin said.” Jeongguk states, plain as day. Giving one final sweep before getting ready to hop down. Nothing much falling along the dense forest tree line.
Lucky that autumn was on their side– if it was any warmer out, the tree leafs may have kept you covered.
“It looks–” Wait, what was that?
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of light in the distance. Too solid to be a solar flare, too obvious to be a trick of the mind. Twisting the lens to make it focus, something different comes into view.
A truck, hardly hidden at all against the trees. Standing out so loudly it might as well be a homing beacon to anyone who wanted to discover its presence.
“Wait, hyung, I think–” Jeongguk scrunches his eyes, the hard plastic of the binoculars digging into his skin as he pushes his face into them deeper, like that will help him see better. “I think there's a truck over there?”
“Mm.” He hears the shifting of guns, probably Joon following the direction of his pointed finger from where the first car had already unloaded onto the ground. “About the same distance away as the house?”
Fuck if he knows, Jeongguk has always been shit with distances. It’s normally Yoongi’s job to take note of the perimeters like this– he still doesn’t know why he’s been put on the case instead. Why has he been given a job when all he wants to do is think about you. It's annoying.
He doesn’t need to be managed. He doesn’t need to be distracted.
“Yeah, looks like it.” Jeongguk pulls the binoculars from his face before taking a second to inhale, tasting the scent of the wind on his tongue. He won’t make the same mistake again.
He pulls himself the rest of the way out of the sunroof, heavy gun clattering against his shoulder as he jumps to the ground with a practiced ease only gained from experience. His form landing with a thud, both feet on the ground as he squats, one balled hand taking the brunt of the force not received by his knees.
He stands, eyes glued into the distance.
“We didn’t see any cars out here before.” Jimin’s voice is in his ears, but he half ignores it. He’s not focused on the conversation of his mates right now, all he can think about is the alpha in his head. The one telling him that these are your woods.
“Tracks.” Taehyung is supplying his mate, just like he always does.
“Yeah, there were tire tracks, but they didn’t lead to a car or anything.”
“Hm.” Joon is too analytical. Seokjin, too.
“Does it really matter?” Hoseok groans out the words– Jeongguk hears him cracking his knuckles, “We don’t have all fucking day, and if these two don’t stop laying it on thick there won’t be hiding from the little doe.”
Jeongguk knows Hoseok is referring to the pheromones he’s releasing, but he really doesn’t give a shit. At least the alpha is speeding the whole thing up– Jeongguk can feel his muscles burning. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves and just goes to get you himself.
His patience is a tether that is not withstanding gale force winds.
“We're triangled right between them.” Jeongguk’s eyes roll, unable to stop himself at the sound of Yoongi’s gruff voice chiming in. He guesses at some point he set up shop looking out of the top of the other car with his sniper. “About 750 meters that way is the car, 875 to the house. 1000 between ‘em, too.”
Soon, Jeongguk hears the footfalls of Yoongi jumping, followed by the scribbling of a pen on a map. He’s starting to get frustrated with all these semantics. These alleged important parts of the job.
He still doesn’t understand why they have to be so careful about this.
You’re his soulmate, you’ll understand even if you are a little scared at first.
“It would be worth it to check it out, at least.” Seokjin’s voice is there– one of Jeongguk’s only hyungs along with Joon that seems to care about how hungry Jeongguk is to have you already. “If Jimin and Taehyung wrecked her house, she could be staying there for cover.”
What? Jeongguk’s alpha is howling in pain. How could he let his omega live inside of a car?! Even if it’s just for the night, that’s too much for you to go through. It’s just too much.
You deserve to be in a nice big house, bundled up in his clothes– not anyone elses right now– relaxing in his big bed, the softest blankets surrounding you while he feeds you the meat he’s hunted.
Joon nods his head, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, you go to the truck. Radio us with what you see.”
. . . Jeongguk blinks.
He blinks again.
He’s not half listening to the conversation anymore.
“What?!” His head snaps before his brain can process the words, eyes finally leaving the distant trees you resided in for so long. So long, all alone. So long without him.
…You missed him, right? Don’t worry, you won’t have to for much longer.
They want him to go with them to the fucking car?! To the fucking car instead of your house?! They’re insane. Fucking insane. The growl is already in his tone before he can manage to stop it. “No.”
Hoseok’s expression is bored, Namjoon’s is blank, Seokjin’s is sympathetic. Jeongguk couldn’t give any less of a shit.
“Gguk-ah…” Seokjin is using that tone of voice he always does when Jeongguk gets riled up like this, the one that means he’s treating him like a pup. Sometimes he likes it. Today is not one of those days. “We need Yoongi with us at the main house…”
Wrong thing to say.
Jeongguk scoffs, “So he gets to see her before me? Are you joking?”
His bonds pang– the internal urge of half of him wanting to soothe the others displeasure combating with his temperament still burning from the night before. The rest are lucky Hoseok managed to calm him down before he took off on his own last night.
“No.” There could be something more to it, something they’re not telling him. They never tell him things. Or maybe they do– either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s pissed right now. All he can feel is that. “We just…”
“They don’t want you to see what the others did and freak out.” Jeongguk has never been more thankful for Hoseok’s blunt tone– at least someone will tell it to him like it is, even when he is worked up like this.
“Thats…” He would like to argue against their stance– that he totally would not blow up and pounce seeing what Jimin and Tae had done– but the words die on his tongue. He knows it's more than likely, so… he chooses a different route to argue his case.
He stands a little taller, “I just want to see. I should get to know how my mates been living.”
“You can see that after, can’t you?” Jimin grumbles, finally merging himself back into the main conversation from where Taehyung had him dragged away before.
Oh, of course, it would be Jimin saying that very thing. The one who wants to avoid Jeongguk seeing whatever state they left his soulmate's den in.
“Jimin, be quiet.” Seokjin sighs, trying once again to be the mediator. Jeongguk normally thinks it’s an incredible skill to have. He respects Seokjin a lot for him stepping up as second in command of the pack, but he’s having trouble retaining any of that sense now as he feels the biting breeze against his cheeks. As he feels the woods trying to speak to him.
“We need you to take the lead here, okay? Manage these 2 and direct them if she’s at the truck instead of the house.”
He feels like he’s going to scream.
See, the issue here is that Gguk doesn’t give a shit about pack dynamics.
He feels like a broken record due to how often he repeats it, but all he cares about is you.
He doesn’t give a shit that more people are needed to case a house than a truck. He doesn’t care that Jimin and Yoongi can’t be in a group together out of fear of them fighting. Doesn’t care that he can’t be with Yoongi either due to the fact he will definitely be fighting him.
Hell, it doesn’t bother him that Hoseok doesn’t see the point in getting you, or that Seokjin is only following along because of Joon’s lead. Sure, he’s frustrated by the way Yoongi’s eyes light up whenever you are discussed, and by the way that Tae shrinks away at the same mention. He didn’t even argue last night when he was excluded from Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin’s meeting last night while they were plotting today out.
He doesn’t care that the groups split makes the most logical sense– that the packs 3 highest in command should all be at the larger site. He doesn’t even care that the rest of them probably don’t even realise that he understands all of it– that he accounts for every minor detail, too.
He doesn’t give a shit about fucking anything other than getting to you and it feels like the others just aren’t listening to how his wolf howls for you.
He feels like he’s going in circles.
His head certainly is.
He should just go. He should just start listening to his instincts just like everyone else does. He should–
Namjoon’s solid hand comes down on his shoulder, his frame leaning down just slightly to look in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Gguk-ah. I’m counting on you. If you find her, you’ll catch her.”
Fuck. Jeongguk does care about that.
Cares about Joon. About the other pure-alphas approval.
As his heart begins to beat a little faster, he takes a step back while tossing the strap of his gun over his shoulder. His boots crunch against the solid soil as he turns his back to the rest of the pack, making sure his face is hidden before any sort of blush tries to rise to his cheeks.
Joon always makes fun of him for that.
“Whatever.” He grunts out, trying to keep it a secret how affected by his pack alpha he is. He’s not the pack’s pup anymore. He shouldn’t get so worked up over little things. “Let’s go.”
“If you see anything, radio.” Hoseok reminds, a slight strain in his voice from what Jeongguk can only imagine is another stretch. Another part of the generals routine. “Kill anything you see, infected people or alive ones. Doesn’t matter to me.”
As if Jeongguk doesn’t know that already.
He grunts, marching off down the unbeaten path with his two elder packmates in tow. His brain tuning out the words of the other four as his brain already moves onto the next thing. As the woods start to feel more and more familiar the deeper he finds himself going inside.
…He’s going to make sure the promise he made to the you in his dreams stays alive and well.
Yoongi's pace meanders a few behind the rest of the group, the heavy metal of his favourite gun thunking against his back with every step he takes. The smell of the damp forest floor invades his nostrils with every small pant he takes, the morning dew making the floor wet as mud decides to cling to his boots.
He never thought he would be out in the woods again.
His head tilts towards the sky as he thinks, lets his mind wander away from the sounds of birds while he has a moment to do so. His body instinctively following the guidance of the rest of his mates without having to put any conscious effort into doing so, something in him knowing they would keep him safe even if he got a little distracted.
The last time Yoongi stepped foot into the forest… into any woods like these… it had to be at least 10 years ago.
He doesn’t know how you live in them. How you survive it.
He knows the crushing weight of the trees.
He’s been trying to figure out how since last night, to be honest. Ever since Jimin mapped out roughly where you had been staying, he’s been wondering why you forced yourself out here. How long you’ve been managing.
The woods are so tall, how do you fight against them all on your own?
Yoongi couldn’t. Still can’t, probably.
Logically, he has to remind himself, something dense like this is probably safer from intruders– not safe enough, if Jimin and Taehyung were able to find you– and zombies. There were far less out here than there were constantly battering against the walls of their compound. Hoseok had only managed to spot 2 on their hike so far, both are double-dead now. So comes safety from others in isolation, he guesses. Maybe that’s how you view it. He almost wishes he could, too.
Still not safe enough.
Yeah, for once Yoongi has to agree with his inner alpha. You’re not safe enough. Not if two of his pack mates were able to track you down. Not if what they say is true about you having been out here alone for who knows how long.
As much as he hates the idea of taking that decision away from you, he hates the idea of you dying even more. He hates the idea of not being able to keep you safe from pain, from letting you rot out here.
That’s all forests do. They infest your brain with rot.
Yoongi can’t stand the idea of stumbling upon you, fungus covering your skin.
He can give you back other freedoms later. It’s what he’s promised himself. You’ll– okay, you probably won’t like his pack at first. He would be the first person to admit that, regardless of how much he cares for them. But… but eventually you might come around. You might like hi–
Yoongi shakes his head, forcing himself away from the train of thought his alpha keeps forcing him down.
He’s coming to get you, to protect you as a friend. Someone he considers a friend, even if it was only one night spent together under fictional stars. Even if he did just plan to let it all blur away.
He’s not coming to you as an alpha with a prerogative. He just… he wants you to be okay. Especially after what Jimin and Taehyung did. He just wants to make sure that you're safe. That you’re not spiralling like he would be under the same circumstances.
Yoongi hates the woods.
…Yoongi wants Jeongguk to forgive him.
He probably won’t.
He should probably stop worrying himself over it. He has more pressing matters to deal with– ones that are only a few meters away, not in an entirely different group, heading to another location.
The guilty part of him hopes Jeongguk will find you first, but the selfish part of him, the ever present one that seems intertwined with his wolf, hopes that he will get the honour.
It isn’t good for you to be alone. You shouldn’t have to suffer through it.
Yoongi is projecting, he knows it. He also can’t stop it, and honestly, doesn’t want to. He wants to feel connected to you. Maybe he’s being selfish again by allowing himself to do so.
…Well, he is the only one who’s actually met you. He’s the one you felt– feel safe with.
His fingers twitch, he wants to just hurry up with it all, already. He wants to get you out of here, bring you to the house. Comfort you, if you’d let him.
…Would you let him?
His heart starts beating a little bit faster. That can’t be good.
“You’re thinking too much.” Hoseoks’s hushed voice makes its way into his muddled mind, a broad shoulder bumping into his unsteady frame.
Yoongi’s eyes slowly draw back from the sky, instead finding their place upon Hoseoks’s handsome face instead. Too handsome. It looks like it was carved by one of the greats. It isn’t fair.
“That’s rich coming from you.” Yoongi deadpans like he definitely wasn’t just admiring the pack's chief of combat.
He totally wasn’t. “You never think when Namjoons’ ‘round.”
God, they’ve been together how many years and Yoongi still pretends to be coy. He knows Hoseok sees through it, though, so there’s really no harm. Not like when the Jeongguk first joined the pack and became acquainted with Yoongi’s sharp, unrelenting tongue. Yoongi will never forget the complete embarrassment of having to explain what Jimin dubbed his ‘cuteness aggression.’
Bleh.
It was the most embarrassing day of his life.
Thankfully, Hoseok likes it when Yoongi gets mean. Says it ‘gets him going’.
Hmph.
“Yeah, well it’s their job. I’m not on the clock right now.” Hoseok smiles, both of his arms raising up to hold the back of his head up. “Let Seokjin deal with it. Looks like he has a stick up his ass, anyway.”
Yeah, Yoongi guesses that’s true. Hoseok isn’t leading the pack’s recruits on any kind of clearing mission, nor is he leading anyone into war. Still, he doesn’t know how he is just so relaxed about everything when Yoongi feels like he’s dying inside.
Still, he doesn’t think he agrees with the idea of it being anyone else's job, especially not Seokjins’.
Yoongi hazards at the body next to the pack alphas. He still doesn’t understand why Seokjin acts like a saint. Their rooms are next to each other, he’s heard the elder’s rants. Yoongi’s one of the few other than the pack alpha that knows his position.
Huh, maybe Seokjin never realised how thin the walls are.
“Bullshit. You’re a control freak.” Yoongi grunts, “If Namjoon didn’t force you out of taking the lead, you’d be up there instead.”
Hoseok simply hums, acknowledging Yoongi. Probably agreeing that it's true in his head.
“Jin!” Hoseok calls up ahead, pulling Seokjin back towards the tail end rather than the front. Yoongi watches as he turns, as he lets his footsteps slow to allow for Yoongi and Hoseok to catch up.
Yoongi feels Hoseok’s hands on his shoulders, forcing him up in front, a big heart-shaped smile on his lips, “This one’s thinking too much. Calm him down.”
“Yah. Stop it.” Yoongi tries to shrug off the younger, but fails miserably. Hoseok’s grip is tight, his fists massaging the flesh, “That’s not his job.”
The conversation feels easy. Too easy, for the current conditions. Zfor the way Yoongi is feeling. He doesn’t fully feel like he deserves their care.
“Aish! What are you talking about! It’s what I was recruited for!” Seokjin huffs, a fake glare directed at Namjoon’s back steady across his features.
“Receuited?” Yoongi almost wants to laugh, “Not the story I heard.”
As much as Yoongi likes to feign disinterest, he certainly does not miss the colouring of red rising to Seokjin’s ears. The corners of his hips curl, already completely aware the elder is going to go on one of his tirades.
Cute. Seokjin is cute.
“Yah!” The elders whisper raises a hair, his lips pouting out a bit more as his words increase in pace. “That brat wouldn’t leave me alone— what did you expect me to do?! He wasn’t even in my department—“
Yoongi shakes his head, eyes staring at the ground. Yoongi doesn’t even try to deny the expression is out of fondness. “You trying to let the whole forest know we’re here?”
“I—“ Seokjin pauses, eyes going wide as he realises just how loud he was getting. His ears get just a bit darker, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, the eldest in the pack just clears his throat, standing a bit straighter. “What were we discussing?”
The corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirks, “How Namjoon pursued you for years before you gave into him.”
“Other than that.”
He shrugs, not really remembering. He wasn’t paying much attention, more so looking for a distraction.
“Ah,” The weight of Seokjin’s arm is dropped over Yoongi’s shoulder, his head shaking along with the addition. “That’s right. You were thinking too hard. Is it being out here?” There's a slight pause before Seokjin continues, “You don’t need to think about back then anymore.”
He wishes it was that easy.
Hoseok’s echo of the past blinks fresh in his mind— ‘Live in the moment with me.’ That’s what Hoseok had said back then.
Seokjin’s smile feels warm when it’s directed just at Yoongi, “Just let hyung take care of it, okay? We’ll be home soon.”
Now he is sure his heart is moving at a faster pace than before.
Hyung.
Yoongi never used those sort of honorifics with Seokjin— it just wasn’t in the nature of their relationship. The elder never outwardly seemed to care, anyway, other than in half-assed jokes. It’s only in times like these that it felt like it mattered.
Suddenly, Seokjin’s face loses all sense of peace, a cold mask of stone falling over it at the exact same time his body freezes in place, the hike coming to a close. Namjoon’s hand in the air being the direct cause.
Well, it was nice while it lasted. It is time for action now.
Namjoon's fingertips curl towards his palm in a silent instruction to lower their frames closer to the ground. The slow, controlled approach to the house already having been planned out since the night before.
Namjoon sends a glance towards the pack’s general, signalling the change of power between them, Hoseok taking over direction.
Yoongi follows it silently without question, waiting for Hoseok’s motion to continue the pursuit forward. He’s always been in awe of the way Hoseok is able to direct everything, to make the motions of a unit seem fluid and conjoined rather than just heaping bodies following orders.
It only takes a glance from Hoseok before Namjoon is moving– the pack alpha gliding through the underbrush as he makes his way around the back of the cabin where he is meant to be stationed in case you try to make a quick exit from the rear.
Yoongi’s job is a lot more simple than the rest of theirs, he is only meant to be a lookout. Honestly, he’s thankful for it. He’s not sure he could manage much more upon seeing you again. Upon seeing the new conditions of your home.
A few seconds pass, a soft cooing whistle from Hoseok along with the tilt of his head telling Yoongi it’s his turn to move. He does as ordered, moving up from his squat, though certainly not returning to full height as he takes a light jog through the underbrush. Only settling himself down when he finds the angle he was looking for.
Checking left, checking right– yeah, here will do just fine. He can see your front door, as well as both sides of your house. He’ll be able to spot you if you try to make it through a window. With fewer guys, it might be a little more difficult to catch you, but Yoongi knows Hoseok enjoys the chase.
… He hopes it doesn’t come down to that, but if he does, he’ll try his best to comfort you even if he isn’t the best at it.
Carefully, Yoongi lowers himself down to the forest floor, pulling the gun off his shoulder right along with the action. He clicks the legs of it down, lowering himself to his stomach to check the view.
Just as he suspected, it’s perfect. He can see everything. Will definitely be able to spot you if you try to move.
Fucking hell. Those goddamn assholes broke most of your windows– he can only assume they weren’t like that before.
It isn’t long before Hoseok and Seokjin come into view, their bodies doing similar low jogs to the ones Yoongi just performed himself. Though their angle was towards the door– if you were here, they were going to get to you first.
Yoongi shakes his head, forcing the jealousy out of his gut. It’s fucking stupid. There isn’t any guarantee you’re still here, anyway. Yoongi knows he would have cleared out first thing if it was hi–
His breath stops in his throat, his head raising from his site. Pupils darting around the scene in front of him.
Fuck. Fuck. No, no no. Why is this happening now? Why?
Everything should be fine. Everything is going smoothly. Namjoon should be positioned around the rear of the building by now, Hoseok and Seokjin are counting down in front of your door, ready to make their move. Yoongi is keeping an eye out as he lays against the forest as Hoseok’s hand raises, starting from 5. There are no zombies around, nor other people that Yoongi can smell.
So why why why why why is this happening right now?
Why is something wrong?
That same sensation that settled over him yesterday has returned at a ten-fold.
Yoongi feels an overwhelming sense of dread in his gut. Worse than he’s felt in a decade.
Panic starts to take over before he’s able to calm it down, his body rising to a stand. Something shakes against his thigh, but he can’t comprehend it. Not when he knows something is about to go wrong, but he doesn’t know what yet.
The universe had to curse him with the ability to know, but not with the ability to do anything about it before it’s too late.
His legs are moving before his mind can catch up, his body rushing towards the door to stop them. He can’t breathe, he can’t think. Words are willing themselves to leave him. They have to regroup, they would understand. They trust him. They trust his judgment.
Just a little bit further. A little bit further.
He should have said something.
The last of Hoseok’s fingers fall, Seokjin’s shoulder slams into the door, breaking it from its hinges. He thinks another figure swoops in, but he isn't really sure.
The entire world has just become red.
Yoongi, he can’t move. He can’t do anything. The world stops rotating on its axis, everything moves to a standstill right along with Yoongi’s form. He’s positive things are happening around him, but he can’t process a single one. He can’t.
One second, everything is red. The next, it’s white.
He can’t hear anything, he can only feel red hot pain blossoming in his gut as something hits him. As he is tossed backwards several feet.
The trees quake due to the force.
Boom.
It doesn’t take Jeongguk long to get to the truck– or maybe it does. He doesn’t remember half of the journey.
He remembers splitting off from the pack, Jimin and Taehyung trailing behind him. He remembers hearing something reminiscent to a giggle beyond that was similar to the ones in his dreams. Remembers deciding that they meant he was on the right track to find you, that his alpha would never steer him wrong.
He didn’t talk at all the entire journey there, staying focused on the prize. There isn’t time for any distractions. He needs to see if you’re at the truck, then rush over to the cabin in case you’re there instead. He needs to hold you, tell you that you’re safe now, and bring you home.
Simple enough. There isn’t really much to do but actually do it. He can stop fantasizing about you once you’re actually in his arms. Maybe then the wolf inside of him will finally settle.
He just wants to breathe you in. For you to build a nest in his room.
He promises he won’t go in it! Not until you give him permission to. But just knowing you feel safe enough around him, safe enough around his scent, shit he wants it more than anything else.
He even has the perfect corner picked out for you already, he’s cleared out space in his closet, too, if you’d rather go there. Sure, he did that forever ago when he still remembered your face, but he’s been keeping it open ever since. He’ll keep it open forever waiting for–
A large hand tugs at the back of his shirt, halting him in his advance forward. The heat of it is almost blinding, but Jeongguk doesn’t let himself get distracted. Of course not, he’s an alpha on a mission.
A haphazard glance over his shoulder is the only thing he offers, finding Taehyung standing there, Jimin still quite a ways away, keeping himself separated. Hm. He’s been like that since yesterday, keeping himself a bit more closed off.
Good. He should feel bad, even if it was a mistake. Even if Jimin didn’t know you were his.
Another tug and Jeongguk is brought back to the moment again, a grunt signalling from his throat as a question meant to ask Taehyung what he wants.
Taehyung’s tongue comes out to lick at his bottom lip lazily, his eyes moving from their stare on Jeongguk to farther ahead on the path. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Taehyung wants him to look, too.
His head turns back to the main trail, vision narrowing.
Fuck. He didn’t notice that.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Jeongguk’s heart swells, hope filling him to the very brim. Butterflies already dancing in his gut as his eyes go wide, as he feels a gentle heat curve into his cheeks.
Footprints. There are footprints on the same path they’re following now.
If Taehyung’s insistence is anything to go by, shit, it means your scent still dots the trees, too. Means that recently you followed the same path Jeongguk trails now. That you might just be living in the very truck Jeongguk is called towards now.
You– are you really waiting at the truck for him?
God, his entire being in inflating. His alpha is howling at him to go get you– that something as perfect as you shouldn’t be living out here. You shouldn’t be subjected to living in your truck because of what his idiot mates did.
Jeongguk’s legs are moving faster than before– he doesn’t really know when his pace picked up, but he knows the others are close to follow. 3 pairs of heavy thuds are marking up the forest floor, along with the sound of clanging guns against shoulders.
Within a few minutes he’s there. He’s standing in front of something you call your own.
It takes his breath away. Of course his omega would drive something cute like this– it makes perfect sense for you. Even if he doesn’t know you well yet, he’s sure of it. Oh, or wait… maybe you only use this one cause it’s convenient? Maybe another vehicle style suits you better?
He’ll get you a hundred cars, if you want. That way you can know what all of them feel like. It’ll feel so good to provide for you.
He moves in without really thinking, stalking towards the car, his noise unable to stop itself from the constant sniffing, attempting to weed out your scent from the rest of the woods. It’s difficult for him to, if he’s being honest. He always gets overwhelmed when so many different odours surround him, but he tries for you anyways.
He thinks he gets some of it, something that smells like beta– he knows better, he knows that even if you smell wrong, you’re still an omega– with hints of eucalyptus. Like some kind of herb used for healing, if he were to guess.
He frowns.
Now, standing only a few feet away from your truck, away from the source, he can tell it’s at least a day old. There isn’t anything that smells more fresh, there’s no sign of life within the cabin even with how forgetful he was at the volume of his approach.
It isn’t his fault though! He knows he was supposed to be quiet just in case but you distracted him. It doesn’t look like it matters anyway, you’re clearly nowhere to be found.
Jeongguk’s shoulders drop– all that hope that had been welling up drifts out. A laboured sigh from Jimin behind him, along with a kick to something– when Jeongguk turns his head, he identifies it as a fishing net with brush interlaced with the rope– signals that the others are sure of the same thing.
“She’s not here.” Even though Jeongguk is on better terms with Jimin than Yoongi, he still would rather not hear him talk right now. It’s not really any fault of his own, but stating the obvious when it’s clear Jeongguk is already irritated? When he can clearly see that you’re not here? It just makes Jeongguk’s teeth clench together a little tighter.
“I can see that.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, one hand closing around the passenger cabin handle. The muscle in his arm straining in preparation for it to resist the movement, for the door to jerk back.
It doesn’t. It’s unlocked.
Jeongguk grunts as he stumbles just slightly, not enough to cause worry or for him to actually fall, but enough for his eyes to go wide. One hand reaching to steady himself on the top of the interior doorframe. His shoulders hunching just slightly while a small, growled ‘fuck’ slips from the back of his throat.
Thank god you aren’t here. That would’ve looked totally uncool.
He grunts, forcing himself to stand straight and only give half checks to his right and left to re-confirm your absence. Even if he wants to see you, he doesn’t want to look so lame. “We’re still checking. Maybe she left something to say where she’s going.”
“Or maybe she’s at her house.” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, the back of his throat itching with a warning growl that wants to be let through. Didn’t Jimin hear Joon? Jeongguk is in charge, he shouldn’t be–
Jeongguk hears a sniffing sound right next to his ear, distracting him. It’s Taehyung taking the chance to scent the inside of the cabin, he guesses. Doesn’t really know what the other is looking for though. All he can smell is a slightly distressed undercurrent to your beta– it’s okay, he knows what you actually are, even if your scent is trying to lie to him– scent, most significantly clinging to the bag lying right across the passenger seat in a heap.
His frown deepens. Probably those two that made you smell like that. Made you scared with no one around to comfort you. There is a 0% chance Jeongguk is going to feel less bitter about it any time soon.
In the back of his head, Jeongguk realises the sniffing has stopped
He doesn’t offer Jimin any kind of response, instead focusing on the bag. Maybe you had left a map in there? Some supplies? Maybe just anything that would make him feel closer to you?
He should take it, right? That way, when you come home, you won’t be missing whatever's inside.
His lips purse just slightly, head nodding in agreement as his hand reaches out to grab it.
Well, he was grabbing it. Now, he’s on the forest floor, his head banging against the surface. Taehyung on top of him, his head pressed into Jeongguk’s throat, not even thinking about letting him up.
The growls begin to leave Jeongguk instantly, a second nature swelling up to the top.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get off of me!” He still won’t let up. He’s keeping Jeongguk pinned with everything he has. Jeongguk can’t see Jimin either. Can only feel the pounding in his head and shoulders from being throttled to the ground.
Is this a fucking coup or something? Were they just waiting to get Jeongguk alone so he wouldn’t be there to protect you anymore?
Jeongguk’s growls increase in volume, his limbs thrashing to try and get out from underneath Taehyung. He can’t believe this. He can’t believe they would fucking try something like this.
“Bomb.” Taehyung’s panicked baritone sends a lightning bolt through Jeongguk’s spine. He’s not fighting anymore. “Bomb inside. Bomb in bag. Don’t touch. Don’t touch! Can smell it! Intentional! Bomb! Don’t touch! Don’t!”
There’s…? You left a…?
Jeongguk looks back towards the car, his entire face morphing into that of complete disbelief.
You were trying to protect yourself… did you…? They said they didn’t see your car yesterday.. The covering was pulled off to the side, making the truck noticeable. Your footprints were in a clear line in the mud when you could just have easily veered off the beaten path, covered up your trail.
This was on purpose. You were trying to protect yourself if Jimin and Taehyung came–
What would have happened if Taehyung wasn’t there?
Jeongguk’s blood runs cold.
Joon doesn’t have a Taehyung at the house.
His mates can’t smell if the same trap has been laid just beyond the door.
Jeongguk shoves Taehyung off of him, adrenaline pumping through his veins. A newfound strength adorning his features as he manages to rattle the big puppy off. His frame rolling onto its stomach, reaching for the radio in his belt loop as he looks towards the direction of your cottage, his pupils shaky.
“Joon– Joon! There was a bomb in the truck! Abort the pursuit! Abort it!” His voice is yelling, crackling as it bounces through the radio.
Time feels like it’s extending itself, 30 seconds morphing into half an hour as he waits for a response.
There is none.
Shit. Shit. Shit! Shit! SHIT!
Jeongguk bolts upright, forgetting about the car, leaving it in the past while his mates are in danger in the present. “Fuck! Go! We have to go now!”
His pheromones, the same ones Joon used last night are unintentionally leaking from his pores, his body already beginning to rush through the tense trees. His head is spinning– he doesn’t know if the others followed. Only that he has to get to the rest of his mates before, before–
The sound rattles the trees, a deep ball of red rising above them.
Jeongguk freezes, his mind blank as he stares towards the distance in awe.
If it wasn’t his mates you were targeting, he would think you’re incredible. But right now, you’re not a thought in his mind. He’ll be upset with himself later over that fact. The fact of the matter, he knows where his bonds lie. He knows how much they’re in pain.
You didn’t know it was them. You don’t know it’s your soulmates. You’re just so scared, just so… everything hurts. His body is on fire. 4 spots across his form are radiating a pain he’s never felt before.
It hurts so bad.
So bad.
He wants to crumple to the floor. He wants to sob. He doesn’t know what to do.
“Get a fucking hold of yourself!!” Oh, Jimin’s screaming at him. He wonders when that started. When the shorter of the two grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him, when the look in his eyes became so deadly that they lost all of their spark.
The slap to his face stings, but he’s thankful for it. It finally brings him back to the moment, finally forces him to do what he needs to do.
“Stupid purebred! Fucking move! You’re useless to them if you can’t even do that!” Jimin’s shouting should sting, but it doesn’t in the slightest. He knows the words are true.
Jeongguk is running again, faster than he thinks he’s run in his entire life. He doesn’t really remember the rest of the interaction with Jimin, his memories feel jumbled. He knows at one point Jimin began dragging him towards the house, then he remembers overtaking Taehyung on his own while running.
The sight he sees when he finally reaches the cabin is one he’ll never forget.
He’s so lucky he’s never had the experience of his mates being in abject danger before. He doesn’t know if he could ever take feeling like this again.
The house, what's left of it, is up in flames. Wood panels have been blown off the side, half of the covered porch has caved in upon itself.
His chest heaves as he finally spots his pack. His soulmates. The ones he loves the most in the world. Namjoon’s form is on top of Seokjin and Hoseok’s bodies, looking like he pushed them out of the way just in time. Wood scattered debris lays around them still burning bright, though none directly on top.
A whizz of air passes by Jeongguk, Jimin’s shorter form running past him in the direction of Yoongi.
Yoongi.
Jimin is hauling a piece of burning wood off Yoongi’s stomach, his hands shaking his shoulders. His voice is yelling, but Jeongguk can’t really hear it. At some point he began to move, too. His body acting for him while his mind remains scattered.
His arms haul Namjoon off of the others, it’s clear all of them are injured– they’ll need to get medical attention when they get home. Seokjin, as much as he wants to, likely won’t be in the state to provide it. Jeongguk will yell at him if he tries.
Taehyung frame finally joins Joengguk too, following his lead in grabbing Seokjin instead, propping his body up rather than continuing to let him lay against the forest floor. From Jeongguk’s extremely limited medical knowledge, he knows his knee looks bad. But so does Hoseok’s shoulder. And god, Jeongguk has never been more thankful for the fire-resistant lining of the gear they wore today. He can’t imagine what the state of Namjoon’s back would be without it.
“Hyung! Hyung!” Jeongguk hears his voice, but he doesn’t remember willing it to sound. He finds himself in the same place as Jimin, his hands shaking the pack alpha's shoulders, trying to wake him from his passed out state.
Fuck. If only he was faster getting to the truck, if only Taehyung was able to tell him sooner none of this would have happened! He would have been able to tell them and, and, and–
“”M fine.” Jeongguk feels air enter him for the first time at the sound of Joon’s voice, even if it does sound a little weak. When Joon wheezes, his heart still pangs, “‘M fine. No one died. Take care of the others, they need it more.”
Jeongguk has never wanted to sob more in his life from relief.
The relief is short-lived when his eyes shift towards Seokjin being coddled by Taehyung.
Hoseok has propped himself up, too. He’s looking off in the distance.
He’s smiling.
You know, when Hoseok said he wasn’t interested in having an omega, you didn’t have to go and be such a fucking brat about it.
Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever. He was going to let his packmates have their new little toy until they got bored of it– he didn’t mind. Pretty pussy is pretty pussy, and alphas have their urges. Hoseok has never minded sharing a beta between a few of them for a night in the past, though that stopped when Jimin joined and started killing them.
Hoseok still didn’t really care.
He didn’t have any loyalties to them. Didn’t wanna bite them. They were just for fun.
If the youngest wanted a new pet, he wouldn’t deny him. He bets he would look cute staring at you like you were the world. Teetering after you while Hoseok had his.. Fun.
He wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of playing with you, too. Again, pretty pussy.
And sure, Hoseok never really cared much for the second gender that seems so– his upper lip wants to curl– mystifying, almost like mythical creatures with their decline. He remembers even back in school when he was learning about them, being bored out of his mind.
Everything about them just seemed so boring.
Helpless.
Culling.
Too much work for what? Something that just likes to sit around the house all day pretty? God, sounds like his fucking nightmare.
Hoseok has always thrived on the exciting. On whatever could get his blood pumping the fastest.
It’s what Namjoon promised him. The alpha never did disappoint.
Months ago, when Namjoon first came to him about the idea of getting an omega, Hoseok thought that it might be the first time he would. He never expected a desire so… simple, baseline… traditional, from the pack alpha. He agreed, sure, but he didn’t expect anything from it. Thought that the alpha might finally be becoming boring.
He should be admonishing his past self for ever doubting him, but his present self feels high as a kite.
This is certainly a motherfucking treat.
Even with the pain radiating from his shoulder socket– it’s definitely popped out– he doesn’t deny it. His tongue, despite its pain from biting through the meaty flesh during the blast, runs over his teeth. Copper tang in every breath he breathes.
Awwwww, and you planned it all yourself, huh? Laid out a little bomb to catch the wolves in a trap? What an adorable little doe, thinking you could be big.
He raises himself up on his forearms, flinching a little at the weight put onto his shoulder. He should be screaming from it now, right? That’s what anyone else would do. His cock is hard.
“Hyung! Hyung!” Shit. He really can’t hear now. Most of it just rings. Call it love the way he was still able to hear Jeongguk through it. Whatever. It’ll come back soon. He’s got other things to focus on.
His eyes continue to scan the tree line, looking for something. He’s not sure what.
He’ll find out soon.
Ha, you really did a number on all of them, huh? Did alllllllll of this just for them? Wow, you must really care. You must really want Hoseok to think you’re worth it, huh? That you’re better than all those other little omegas out there?
You want him? That's the message you were trying to send, huh? That you want a chase?
You’re fucking lucky Hoseok loves them. You want him to love you, too? Are you ready for something like that? You really think so?
His lips crack open, a splash of red coating the inside edge. Another trail of blood running down his cheek from where he nosedived into the dirt.
You wanted his attention? That’s why you pulled this bratty little stunt? Well now you have it.
He sees a glint of light in the distance, way beyond the trees. Light reflecting off of glass. Binoculars, huh? Cute.
His smile grows, blood on his teeth. The taste of copper still coming through on his punctured tongue. His canines have never been more excited to bite.
Found you, baby.
Let’s play red riding hood.
“Boom.”
Your voice is soft, cusping just on the edge of the wind. Certainly nowhere near as loud as the sound that just permeated the forest, but felt as though it was even greater than it. A beautiful, radiating fire lighting the trees in the distance, a new glow.
On your face rests a satisfied, self serving smile.
You, and your predictions, had been right. They came back.
Now, there was no way you could be certain it was the same alphas that came to destroy you yesterday, of course not. It would be silly to completely presume but… it was nice to think it was, anyway. Had your legs feeling lighter as they rest against the wooden edge of the fire escape, your body slumped against the high-back stool that you just so happened to find in the fire tower.
Ha. Fire tower. Ironic.
Either way, you knew they would be back, and now they knew the consequences of doing such a thing, even if it is a pity the second bomb hadn’t gone off alongside the first.
The corner of your lips quirk a little higher, hand finally reaching to grab the binoculars from their place hanging against the chair. The cool metal raising to your eyes, allowing you to see even more of the beauty you had just created.
Mmm, the view isn’t too much better– you suppose you did walk pretty far– but still. The act of seeing everything is divine. Your house, the place you had crafted for years, may now be in shambles, but so are the alphas. Poor things.
Well, you’ll build your life back better, anyway. Every new start has become more and more easy. Lessons have taught you the proper steps, especially the steps to properly disappear. That everyone should have the tools and the knowledge to make an out if need be.
Your bottom lip perks out in a bit of a mocking pout, head tilting to the side as the fire begins to grow. It won’t make it far, you know that. The conditions aren’t great for it to actually spiral, but it feels prophetic almost. It feels perfect.
Leave no witnesses.
Mhm, and after they saw your nest, you knew you had to. Fixed up the house to make it look like you were planning on trying to stay, left your car uncovered as a second honeypot. Disabled your trip wires to make it seem like you didn’t know what you were doing. Packed all the suppressants you could. Made sure to leave a little trail to each.
Agitated clucking sounds from your left, drawing you out of your thoughts. The binoculars leaving your eyes as your head twists down towards her, instead.
Ah. Of course, there was Cheryl, too.
To be honest, you tried to leave her. To let her go back to the woods and live with the wild flock but… she wouldn’t stop following you.
Pack has to stick together, you suppose.
“Shhhh, shhh shh…” Your fingers slowly stroke down Cheryl's back, her plumage puffed up from the noise that rang throughout the forest. “You gotta be quiet. They could be watching us back.”
You stand from your spot, moving back towards the interior of the little fire tower. One hand scooping up Cheryl from her tummy, the other slinging your pack over your shoulder. A continued soft hushing leaving as you walk.
You have no plans of unpacking, you’d be leaving this location soon enough.
A small buzzing sensation runs through your entire being, the aftereffects of your successful plan still migrating through every one of your nerves, lighting each up like little stars in little galaxies.
Your lips curl once again, little sharpened canines hanging from below your upper lip, the corner of your smile tweaking upwards. “Well, if they’re still alive, that is.”
chapter 4 <- index -> chapter 6
⌬ : notes:
"oh, these weren't homemade. they were made in a factory. a bomb factory."
🧍♀️
ha..haha.. right guys?
*a tomato is thrown at me*
DAMN! Fine! Lemme just pack my shit and--- lmaooooo I'm joking!! Seriously though, I am desperate to hear what you guys think about this chapter. What I have been teasing for awhile has finally kicked off!! Like i said, reader still had a few things up her sleeve. She's crafty, huh? Either way, it isn't too much longer before she meets the guys!! it should be happening next chapter, isn't that exciting? It is to me!!
I am desperate to hear all of your thoughts on this chapter-- it really is my favourite one that I've written so far. Especially now that we have 6/8 povs unlocked for the main cast... mwahahah, hoseok is certainly a treat, isn't he? I have full confidence you will either hate him, or think he is entirely too hot (i am of the later group lmao, I know what I am) (a freak, if that wasn't clear LMAO)
Jeongguk too, with how desperate he is to have you :'< poor guy. Plus a look into the way he joined thep pack ?! Either way!! As always, please let me know any and all of your thoughts, I absolutely love hearing them!! Everything coming together, and the objects set in motion are rolling super fast now, even if it doesn't totally seem like it yet.
Ahhh, anyway, this is entirely too long! As always, thank you for reading and falling into the story of summer rain just like I have!!! We have officially hit 100 pages in my google doc! See you guys when the next chapter finishes out!! MWAH!!!
Can you please do an Enhypen imagine where it is really cold and they are being all cozy cuddly in bed
enhypen and a cold night ; 엔하이펜
↳ enhypen × cold night cuddles
warnings ; fluff, domestic fluff, established relationships, lots of warmth + cuddling in bed, nothing explicit
synopsis ; it’s freezing outside, the kind of cold that makes the windows fog and turns the world quiet. inside, it’s just you and him beneath a shared blanket, tucked in close.
word count ; 2.8k
author’s note ; this request speaks to me... i like this.
HEESEUNG
The cold settles into the apartment differently at night. You feel it the most when you slip into the bedroom, the air biting at your skin, making you shiver before you’ve even reached the bed.
Heeseung notices immediately.
He always does.
He’s already half-asleep, curled under the comforter with his hair mussed and his breathing slow. But the second you lift the corner of the blanket, he stirs, eyes blinking open, soft and heavy, finding you instantly even through the dark.
“Cold?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
You don’t even get a chance to answer before he’s reaching for you, one arm sliding around your waist, the other guiding your face into the warm curve of his throat. His body heat is immediate, melting, the kind that seeps straight through your bones.
Heeseung exhales a quiet, relieved sound and pulls the blanket higher around both of you.
“Should’ve come to bed sooner,” he whispers, lips brushing your forehead. “You know I run warm.”
You breathe against his collarbone, letting the warmth swallow you up. His thumb traces slow circles into your back, tendrils of heat curling wherever he touches, grounding you in that lazy, affectionate way he only ever shows when it’s just the two of you in the dark.
Your cold foot brushes his shin and he flinches, then groans dramatically.
“You’re freezing,” he mumbles, but he’s already hooking a leg around yours, tugging you even closer until you’re practically tangled beneath him. “Come here. Like—here. All the way.”
He positions you exactly where he likes you: chest to chest, your head tucked beneath his, his arms wrapped tight like he’s trying to shield you from winter itself.
His heartbeat evens out. His breathing slows. You feel the warmth settle between you, lazy and soft and impossibly safe.
Heeseung presses one last kiss into your hair, his voice fading into that half-conscious place where he’s too tired to think and too in love to hide it.
“Stay right here,” he whispers. “I sleep better when you’re here.”
He’s asleep again before you can respond—still holding you, still wrapped around you, still radiating heat like he was made to thaw you out.
JAY
The bedroom is dim except for the faint spill of hallway light streaming under the door, just enough to paint him in soft edges when you slip inside. Jay’s already curled up on his side, one arm tucked beneath his pillow, hair falling over his forehead in that perfect, unfair way he manages even while asleep.
You try to climb in quietly. Really, you do.
But the mattress dips, your teeth chatter once—once—and his eyes open instantly.
He lifts his head. “You’re shaking.”
It’s not a question; more of an accusation, really.
Before you can protest, Jay’s sitting up, grabbing the comforter with one hand and reaching for you with the other. He moves with that efficient, purposeful gentleness of his.
“Come here,” he mutters, guiding you toward him until you’re tucked directly against his chest. “Why are you this cold? Did you forget your sweater again?”
You open your mouth to deny it, but he gives you a look—soft, raised brow, the one that tells you he already knows the truth and he’s only letting you speak for the theatrics.
You sigh. “It’s in here, I didn’t wanna wake you up by coming in to get it…”
Jay exhales through his nose, something like a laugh, and buries his hand beneath the blanket. His fingers find your waist, sliding over icy skin, and he winces like he’s just been electrocuted.
“Jeez,” he says quietly. “You should’ve told me you were cold, I coulda warmed you up.”
You snort against his chest, and Jay pretends he didn’t smile.
He pulls the comforter higher around your shoulders and then wraps himself around you fully—arms tightening, legs hooking over yours, chest firm and steady at your back. His warmth is slow but heavy, radiating the way he always does, like he’s built for this exact moment.
You feel him settle behind you, his chin resting in your hair.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice barely awake now.
He rubs your arms in slow strokes—long, even lines that pull the cold out of your skin inch by inch. Every so often, he tucks the blanket closer around you, making sure there isn’t a single draft slipping in.
Eventually, when your shaking finally eases, he presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.
“Better?” he murmurs. You nod, and Jay relaxes, pulling you tighter.
“Good,” he breathes, already fading back into sleep. “Next time, just take one of my hoodies. It’s why I buy so many.”
He falls fully asleep like that; arms locked around you, body shielding yours from the cold, warmth settling over you in quiet, steady waves.
JAKE
Jake’s the kind of warm that feels alive. He’s got a soft, humming heat that radiates from his skin like he’s permanently sunlit. So the moment you slip into the room, wrapped in the kind of chill that makes your fingers numb, he notices before you even speak.
He’s sprawled diagonally across the bed, blanket half-kicked down, hair a fluffy mess against the pillow. The heater’s doing absolutely nothing, breath visible in the air, but Jake? Jake looks like he could sleep through a snowstorm.
You nudge him gently. “Jake?”
He groans, turns toward the sound of your voice—and as soon as his hand brushes your wrist, he jerks fully awake.
“Oh my god,” he whispers, horrified. “You’re ice.”
You laugh, but your teeth click together, and his expression twists.
“No. Nope. Come here.”
He pulls the blanket back with one hand and reaches for you with the other, tugging you into the warm circle of his body like he’s reeling in a runaway pillow. You land half on his chest, and Jake wraps himself around you immediately—arms, legs, everything.
You let out a soft gasp at the abrupt heat, and he shushes you tenderly, nuzzling his cheek into the top of your head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice still thick from sleep. “Just—just stay right here a minute.”
His hands wander under the blanket, rubbing warmth into your arms, then your waist, then down your thighs. Each touch is lazy and familiar, the kind of instinctive affection Jake gives without thinking, like breathing.
After a moment, he pauses.
“…you’re still cold…?”
You mumble something about it being fine, but Jake’s already adjusting, pulling the comforter up to your ears and lifting his knee to tuck it in around your hip. He shifts again, tucking your feet between his calves, and hums in satisfaction when you shiver at the contact.
“Better,” he says definitively, like he’s solved winter.
His hand finds your cheek, thumb stroking lightly. You can feel him smiling, soft and sleepy, as your body finally starts to thaw against his.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “This is much better, isn’t it?”
You bury your face against his chest, warmth sinking into you like a slow sunrise. Jake’s breathing evens out, deep and steady, the kind that always lulls you into matching him.
When you finally stop shivering, Jake lets out a tiny, relieved sigh.
“See?” he mumbles. “Told you I could help.”
He’s half-asleep again by the end of it, arms locked tight around you, blanket tangled around both your bodies, keeping the cold as far from you as possible.
SUNGHOON
The room feels colder than it should, brushing against your skin sharply. You slip inside anyway, shutting the door behind you, hoping Sunghoon’s already asleep so you won’t wake him.
He isn’t.
He’s lying on his back, one arm under the pillow, phone dim and abandoned beside him. His eyes lift the moment you enter, dark and soft in the low light.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, but the way your your arms are wrapped around yourself gives you away. Sunghoon sits up without hesitation, blanket falling from his chest in a slow cascade.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
You crawl in next to him, and he reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist, guiding you until you fit neatly against his side. His arm slides around your shoulders, slow and secure, pulling you under the blanket with him.
His warmth hits you all at once. Gentle and steady and somehow so much stronger than his cool exterior ever suggests.
“You’re freezing,” he says, voice quiet with concern.
Your forehead finds the seam of his collarbone, and he exhales, long and soft, like the tension leaves him the moment he feels you settle. He shifts again, tucking the blanket higher, angling his body so more of him is pressed against you.
Without meaning to, you shiver.
Sunghoon’s grip tightens instantly. “Hey,” he breathes, “come closer.”
You already are, but he pulls you in gently by the waist until there’s no space left between you. His legs slot around yours, his nose brushing your temple as he settles into the new position.
“That’s better,” he whispers, sounding almost relieved.
His thumb draws lazy circles into your arm, slow enough to make your eyelids heavy. The cold recedes with each passing second, replaced by the soft press of his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.
Sunghoon isn’t loud about comfort—he never has been. But the way he holds you now, warming every place your skin meets his, feels like its own quiet confession.
“You have to tell me when you’re cold like this,” he murmurs, voice warm and almost shy. “I don’t like seeing you shake.”
You nuzzle closer, and he lets out a small, barely-there laugh—the kind he only gives you when he’s too tired to hide it.
“There you go,” he whispers. He presses a soft kiss to your hair, then another.
“Closer,” he repeats, even though you’re already curled into him completely.
Your eyes slowly flutter closed, and you feel the warmth wrapping around you like a weighted blanket, drifting to sleep.
SUNOO
The second you open the bedroom door, a wave of warm air greets you; it’s soft, sweet, almost golden. Sunoo has the heater on, the fairy lights humming softly, the blankets stacked in fluffy layers like he’s preparing for a blizzard
He looks up from where he’s curled beneath the comforter, cheeks flushed, hair messy in the cutest way.
“You’re finally here,” he says, voice soft and bright at the same time. Then his smile falters a little. “Honey…?”
“What?”
He squints at you—eyes narrowing, lips pushing into a pout. “I can see your lips are turning blue from over here.”
Before you can explain, he’s already shoving the comforter open and holding his arms out in a dramatic sweep.
“Come,”
You laugh, but the cold clings stubbornly to your skin, and the promise of his warmth is impossible to resist. As soon as you slip under the blankets, Sunoo wraps himself around you like he’s been waiting all night, arms circling your shoulders, legs tucking around yours, nose brushing your cheek in a soft nuzzle.
The warmth hits instantly, blooming over your skin in slow waves.
“Oh my god,” he gasps, pulling back just enough to press his hands to your cheeks. “You’re actually freezing. Why were you walking around like this?”
You try to defend yourself, but Sunoo cuts you off with a tiny scolding noise and pulls you flush against his chest again. His hands slip under the blanket, rubbing your arms with quick, determined strokes.
“We’re fixing this,” he declares, voice gentle but firm. “Right now.”
You melt into him, letting his warmth stretch across your back, your hands, your neck. His skin glows against yours, always warm like he carries his own little sun beneath the surface.
“You’re tense,” he whispers, noticing the way your shoulders tremble. His fingertips trace light patterns down your spine, soft and tender. “Relax. I’ve got you.”
Another shiver runs through you, and Sunoo tightens his hold instantly, pulling the comforter over your head like he’s protecting you from the world.
“Perfect,” he hums when you settle. “See? Much better. You’re warming up already.”
You tilt your face toward his, and he meets you halfway, brushing a soft kiss across your forehead—warm, lingering, loving.
“Next time,” he says quietly, “you come to me right away, okay? I like taking care of you.”
He tucks you closer, sighing contentedly as the cold finally slips away.
“Just stay with me,” Sunoo murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll keep you warm.”
JUNGWON
Jungwon always sleeps curled up on his side, arms tucked close, blanket pulled to his chin. He looks small like that, peaceful, the soft rise and fall of his breathing barely disturbing the quiet of the room.
You try to slip into bed without waking him, but the cold radiating off of your skin gives you away.
The mattress shifts. You freeze.
And then—
“…y/n?”
His voice is thick with sleep, warm in the dark. He blinks up at you, eyes fuzzy, hair a soft halo around his face.
“You’re cold,” he says immediately, like he can feel it from a distance.
Before you can reassure him, he’s already pushing himself up on one elbow, lifting the blanket with the other hand.
“Come here.”
You slide in next to him, and Jungwon pulls you against his chest without hesitation—arms wrapping around your waist, chin fitting into the crook of your shoulder like this is muscle memory.
The heat of him hits you slowly at first, then all at once. He’s warm in that steady, grounding way, like he runs on a constant quiet glow meant just for nights like this.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs against your skin, fingers spreading across your back to rub slow circles. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”
You mumble something about not wanting to wake him, but Jungwon only sighs, tightening his hold.
“You can always wake me,” he whispers. “Always.”
His thumb grazes up and down your arm, gentle and patient, warming the chill out of your muscles inch by inch. He shifts closer, hooking one leg over yours to share even more heat, making sure you’re cocooned on all sides.
You feel the cold start to melt, replaced by the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear.
After a moment, Jungwon’s voice softens further—barely a whisper now, full of sleepy affection.
“Stay like this,” he says. “You know, I sleep better when you’re here.”
You breathe out, finally relaxing into him, and he hums quietly, satisfied. His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt to trace slow, soothing lines up your spine, letting warmth pool wherever he touches.
When the last of your shivers fade, Jungwon presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head.
“There you go,” he murmurs. “I’ll keep you warm.”
RIKI
The lights are off when you walk in, the room quiet except for the soft rustling of blankets as Riki shifts in his sleep. He’s curled up on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, hair falling messily across his eyes. He looks younger like this; peaceful and soft around the edges, his emo charade abandoned.
You tiptoe around the bed, trying not to disturb him, but the cold clings to you too visibly.
You slide under the covers as gently as possible.
It doesn’t matter.
Riki stirs immediately.
A sleepy groan, a stretch, then—
“…why’re you so cold?”
You freeze. “…I’m not.”
He makes a tired, unimpressed noise into his pillow and reaches for you blindly, palm patting around until he finds your arm. The second he touches your skin, he jerks back like he’s touched ice.
“Woah—okay. No. Come here.”
He’s fully awake in an instant, scooting closer without even opening his eyes. He hooks an arm around your waist and drags you toward him with zero hesitation, zero grace.
You yelp softly at the sudden movement.
“Shh,” he mumbles, finally blinking up at you through messy hair. “It’s late.”
He presses his forehead to your shoulder and exhales, warm breath blooming against your cold skin. One leg tangles with yours, half pinning you in place, half warming you on instinct.
“Why didn’t you just get in bed?” he asks, voice soft, a little pouty. “You know I’m warm.”
You laugh under your breath. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You did wake me,” he counters, tugging the blanket up over both your heads, trapping you in a warm little cocoon with him. “And you were cold the whole time. That’s worse.”
He settles against you, arms tightening around your middle until you’re flush against his chest. The warmth spreads almost instantly, slow and heavy and so much more soothing than he probably realizes.
Riki sighs, content now, cheek pressed to your back.
“There,” he murmurs. “Just stay like that.”
As the cold drains from your body, your breathing evens out, and Riki shifts again, just enough to tuck his chin over your shoulder, mouth brushing your jaw in the faintest, sleepiest kiss.
“Next time,” he whispers, already falling back asleep, “don’t be dumb. Wake me.”
His arms stay locked around you, soft but unmovable, keeping every inch of you warm.
You are twenty-one years old, drowning, and completely out of options. Your parents died when you were fifteen, leaving behind nothing but a cramped apartment and a stack of unpaid bills. You worked double shifts at a convenience store to put yourself through community college, but when a medical emergency left you with hospital debt you could never repay, the loan sharks came for you. Now they call your phone at all hours. They wait outside your classes. Last week, they broke your apartment door off its hinges.
Tonight, you sit on the edge of your bathtub with a pistol you bought from a man in an alley, hands trembling so badly you can barely hold it steady. You have no one. You have nothing. This is the only way out you can see.
You press the barrel to your temple. You close your eyes. You pull the trigger. But the gun doesn't fire.
Instead, the air in your bathroom splits open like a wound. Light spills through the crack, gold and pink, and a young man steps through as casually as if he's walking into a coffee shop. He has fox-bright eyes and a smile that curves like moon crescent. He plucks the gun from your hands, unloads it with practiced ease, and drops it into the sink.
"That's not your only option," he says. His name is Sunoo. He explains that in another world, a world called Emperion, there existed another version of you. A powerful magic user. Rich, talented, and recently murdered by a witch. If you agree to take that dead girl's place, to attend a magical academy in her name and find the killer, you’ll have a new life. A new identity. A purpose.
The catch? You can never come back. You must convince everyone; students, professors, friends, that you are the same cold, confident sinner they've always known. And you have to kill a witch.
You look at the gun in the sink. You look at the portal. You think about the loan sharks and the empty apartment and the silence that has followed you since you were fifteen years old.
You step through.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ✠ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕰𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖓 ✠
Emperion is a kingdom built on contradictions. The streets are lit by floating lanterns fueled by captured memories, each one glowing a different color depending on the emotion inside it. In the capital city of Malachar, you can buy anything: cursed jewelry, bottled laughter, dreams extracted from sleeping minds.
Magical creatures coexist here openly. Vampires run the banking houses in the financial district. Demons serve in the royal court. Elves maintain the great libraries. Shapeshifters work as spies and messengers. Graveborn beings resurrected from death walk among the living with pale skin and hollow eyes, neither fully dead nor fully alive. Mortals live alongside all of them, some gifted with magic, some not.
The kingdom is ruled by a monarchy that worships the seven deities, though in practice, the noble houses hold most of the real power. Politics in Emperion is a blood matter. Families rise and fall based on magical skills, strategic marriages, and the occasional well-timed assassination.
Far to the north, past the frozen forests and the mountains, lies Nocthaven. It's cold, isolated, and completely inhospitable to anyone who isn't a magic user. This is where the Delictum Academy was built, far from the distractions of civilization, close to the raw sources of sin magic that seep up from the cursed ground.
The celestial kingdom of Aetherlyn considers sin magic an abomination. Their realm exists on a different plane of reality, one built from virtue, order, and divine light. They are not peaceful nor merciful. They believe Emperion is a nuisance that must be destroyed.
Aetherlyn sends Archangels, beings of immense power, constructed from celestial energy to wage war on Emperion. These are not the angels of human religion. Archangels are weapons. They descend, destroy entire cities, and leave nothing but ashes where life used to be.
The war has lasted for centuries. Emperion created the Imperial Division specifically to fight it: a team of seven elite sinners, one for each deity, working together as a strike force. Every few years, when the current members die or retire, the Delictum Academy selects the seven most powerful students to replace them. These chosen ones are called the Seven Deadly Sins.
It is the highest honor a sinner can achieve and a near-certain death sentence.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ✠ 𝕺𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖘 ✠
Long ago, before Emperion had a name, a scholar named Terullian made a discovery that changed the world. He noticed that human wrongdoing left traces. A man who stole bread left behind a residue of hunger and desperation. A woman who lied to her husband left behind a shimmer of deceit. These residues, Terullian theorized, were not just emotional traces. They were power.
He spent forty years in isolation, studying criminals, the dying, and the morally corrupt. What he found was a system. Every sin produced a specific type of magical energy, and that energy could be harvested, shaped, and wielded by those with the talent to do so. He called this practice Sinderomancy, sin magic. His writings became the foundation of Emperion's entire magical tradition.
The ethical implications were immediately controversial. Using magic meant drawing power from the worst parts of humanity. Every spell cast was, in some small way, profiting from suffering. But the power was undeniable. Within a century, Emperion had built an entire civilization on it.
Every magic user in Emperion is born with an affinity for one of the seven sin categories. This affinity is innate and cannot be changed. It shows up in childhood, usually around puberty, and determines which deity's power they can access.
Casting magic requires three things: affinity, focus, and source.
The affinity is your natural connection to a specific sin. The focus is your ability to shape that power into a spell, which requires training and mental discipline. The source is the actual sin energy you're drawing from, either your own emotions, the ambient sin residue in the world, or in advanced cases, the deity itself.
At the Academy, all students learn the basics of every magic category regardless of their affinity. This is considered essential education. A sinner must understand how each sin works to defend against it. But they can only ever truly master their own affinity. The curriculum dedicates the first two years to foundational courses in all seven disciplines before students specialize in their third year.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ✠ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝕯𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘 ✠
The accumulated sin energy of centuries did not simply dissipate. It coalesced. It gained awareness. Seven entities formed from the collected wrongdoings of mortal beings, each one embodying a specific category of sin. They are not gods in the traditional sense. They did not create the world. They are parasites grown powerful, forces of nature more than personalities.
⚚ 𝔊𝔲𝔩𝔞 (𝔊𝔩𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔶)
Born from overconsumption in all its forms. Gula is not just gluttony for food but for anything: attention, substances, experiences, pain. Its followers tend to be sensory seekers. Magic drawn from Gula allows the user to consume almost anything, physical matter, energy, even abstract concepts like time or memory and convert it into power.
⚚ 𝔏𝔲𝔵𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔞 (𝔏𝔲𝔰𝔱)
Born from lust and obsessive desire. Luxuria governs attraction, both physical and emotional. Its magic deals in obsession, charm, and the manipulation of relationships. Followers can make themselves irresistible, sense others' desires, and forge emotional bonds that feel like addiction. It's considered one of the most dangerous disciplines because it erodes consent.
⚚ 𝔄𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔞 (𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡)
Born from greed and possessiveness. Avaritia's domain is material wealth and the fear of losing it. Its magic allows users to bind objects to their will, create unbreakable contracts, and sense the location of anything they consider theirs. Avaritia sinners are often obscenely wealthy and paranoid to a fault.
⚚ ℑ𝔯𝔞 (𝔚𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔥)
Born from wrath, rage, and vengeance. Ira is the most directly destructive deity. Its magic manifests as combat enhancement, pain manipulation, and destructive energy. Followers can draw power from their own anger or the anger of those around them. The angrier they are, the stronger they become, which makes discipline essential.
⚚ 𝔄𝔠𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔞 (𝔖𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔥)
Born from sloth, apathy, and the paralysis of will. Acedia is the strangest of the deities. Its magic doesn't do things so much as undo them. Followers can slow time, drain motivation from enemies, make objects forget their purpose, and create spaces where nothing happens. It's subtle, frustrating, and deeply unsettling to face.
⚚ 𝔙𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔞 (𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶)
Born from envy and the desperate need for validation. Vanagloria's magic is about copying, stealing, and undermining. Its followers can temporarily duplicate others' abilities, drain confidence, and create illusions that show people what they most fear or desire. They are master manipulators who understand that destruction is often best achieved by making someone destroy themselves.
⚚ 𝔖𝔲𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔟𝔦𝔞 (𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢)
Born from pride and the belief in one's own absolute superiority. Superbia is considered the most powerful and most dangerous of the seven. Its magic deals in domination, command, and the warping of reality to fit the user's will. Followers can make people believe their lies, bend weaker minds to obedience, and in rare cases, reshape small portions of the physical world through sheer force of ego.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ✠ 𝕯𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖒 𝕬𝖈𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖞 ✠
Delictum Academy was founded three hundred years ago by Evagrius Ponticus, who remains its headmaster to this day. No one knows exactly what Ponticus is. He appears human, but he hasn't aged in centuries. He speaks softly, smiles rarely, and seems to know things before they happen. Students speculate that he made some ancient deal with all seven deities simultaneously, which should be impossible.
The Academy's official purpose is to train sinners to master their abilities and defend Emperion. Its unofficial purpose, the one whispered in the dorms at night, is to identify the strongest among each generation and feed them into the war machine. Graduation rates are high. Survival rates after graduation are not.
The Academy is built on an estate the size of a small city, surrounded by walls enchanted to keep out the perpetual northern winter. Inside, the climate is controlled to a perpetual mild autumn. Dead leaves flying across cobblestone paths but never pile up.
☾ 𝔑𝔬𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔞 𝔇𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔰
The student housing is divided into seven buildings, each corresponding to one of the sin affinities. The dorms are named after the animals associated with the sins, and the architecture reflects the nature of each one:
Peacock Hall (Pride): Tall, elegant, and deliberately intimidating. Every room has mirrors on the ceiling. The common area features a throne-like chair that students compete to sit in.
Lion Hall (Wrath): Built low and solid like a fortress. The training rooms are in the basement, soundproofed to contain the screaming. Students here settle disputes in the combat ring and bet with everything.
Pig Hall (Gluttony): Surprisingly warm and comfortable, with a dining hall that serves food at all hours. The kitchens are never closed. The rooms are cluttered and cozy.
Toad Hall (Greed): Locked cabinets in every room. A vault in the basement for student valuables. The walls are thick with protective enchantments. Nothing gets stolen here because everyone is paranoid enough to ward their doors three times. The dorm was mostly funded by Sunghoon’s family.
Goat Hall (Lust): Silk sheets and dim lighting and private balconies. The rules about overnight guests are loosely enforced. The air is always faintly perfumed.
Snake Hall (Envy): Mirrored hallways that show you distorted reflections. The rooms are arranged so everyone can see slightly into everyone else's space. Gossip travels faster than light here.
Snail Hall (Sloth): Softest beds in the Academy. Sound-dampening walls. The common room has hammocks instead of chairs. Students here have perfected the art of doing absolutely nothing and looking good doing it.
☾ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢
The main academic building. A sprawling structure of black stone and stained glass windows depicting the seven deities. Classrooms are arranged in circles rather than rows because the Socratic method is heavily favored. The library in the east wing contains restricted texts that literally bite if you try to read above your magic level.
☾ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔯 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯
An observatory and ritual space. The ceiling is enchanted to show a real-time map of the night sky, which is used for divination and celestial magic tracking. Students come here to practice spells that require starlight, which is abundant in Nocthaven's eternal night.
☾ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔫𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢
A massive glass dome filled with magical plants. Some of them are ingredients for potions. Some of them are dangerous. A few of them are mildly sentient and will hold grudges if you water them wrong. The Greenhouse is maintained by a groundskeeper who may or may not be a walking tree.
☾ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔞
Where combat training and duels take place. The stands can hold the entire student body. Bloodstains on the floor are cleaned between matches, but the cleaning enchantment never quite gets everything. There are older stains beneath the newer ones, layers of violence soaked into the ground.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ✠ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝕾𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘 ✠
These seven students are currently considered the most likely to be selected as the next Imperial Division. They are not yet officially the Seven Deadly Sins, but everyone treats them as if they are. They sit at the top of the Academy's social hierarchy, feared, admired, and whispered about in equal measure. Students like to call them the Princes of Hell.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ꜱᴜɴᴏᴏ (ᴀꜱᴍᴏᴅᴇᴜꜱ) ⚜
Preacher of Luxuria and sinner of Lust.
Sunoo is beautiful in a way that makes people uncomfortable. As an incubus, he naturally draws people toward him. He smiles often, laughs easily, and never raises his voice. This is not because he's gentle. This is because he doesn't need to raise his voice to get what he wants. He flirts with everyone regardless of gender, species, or availability, less out of genuine desire and more because flirtation is information-gathering. He is not evil, but he is not good either. Sunoo was the old Y/N's best friend before she died. They were "glued to each other," as other students put it. He was with her on the mission when the witch killed her. He watched her die. Why couldn't he save her? Sunoo is a powerful sinner in his own right. How did a witch kill his best friend right in front of him? He recruited Y/N from another world for reasons he has not fully explained. He claims he wants justice for his best friend. But Sunoo always has multiple motives, and he only ever reveals the ones that serve his purposes.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ʜᴇᴇꜱᴇᴜɴɢ (ʟᴜᴄɪꜰᴇʀ) ⚜
Preacher of Superbia and sinner of Pride. Heeseung's tall, dark-haired, with features that seem slightly too perfect to be natural, because they aren't. He's a demon, full-blooded, from one of the old families that trace their lineage back to the first coalescence of sin energy. He speaks quietly and rarely. When he enters a room, conversations falter. He's the kind of person you notice even when you're trying not to. No one knows much about Heeseung. He doesn't socialize. He doesn't explain himself. He attends classes, performs perfectly on every assessment, and disappears. His dorm room in Peacock Hall is the largest in the building, but no one has ever been invited inside. He is not cruel, which surprises people. He doesn't bully or belittle. He simply... doesn't engage. He knows he's the best. He doesn't need anyone else to confirm it. Heeseung can do things other sinners find impossible. The professors are wary of him. The headmaster watches him closely.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ᴊᴀʏ (ꜱᴀᴛᴀɴ) ⚜
Preacher of Ira and sinner of Wrath.
Jay is a vampire from an old aristocratic family. He keeps his black hair immaculate and his uniform perfectly pressed. His hands are always gloved. It's actually because direct skin contact lets him sense pulse points, and that's distracting in a building full of living bodies. When Jay is calm, he's cold. When he's angry, which happens quickly and often, he's terrifying. Jay's anger is not random. It's principled, which makes it worse. He has a rigid sense of fairness and loses his composure when that fairness is violated. He hates cheaters. He hates bullies. He hates incompetence in positions of authority. The world constantly disappoints him, and he constantly punishes it for disappointing him. The rivalry with the old Y/N started on their first day of classes when she scored higher than him on an aptitude test. She didn't even study. He had studied for weeks. It's been war ever since. Everything is a competition: grades, combat rankings, professor attention. The old Y/N found it amusing. Jay does not find it amusing at all.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ᴊᴀᴋᴇ (ʙᴇʟᴘʜᴇɢᴏʀ) ⚜
Preacher of Gula and sinner of Gluttony.
Jake is a mortal, fully human, which is rare among the Academy's elite. He has warm brown eyes and a smile that makes people want to trust him. He's extroverted, physically affectionate, and the kind of person who remembers everyone's birthday. He knows the names of the kitchen staff. He helps first-years find their classrooms. He is universally liked, which in a school of sinners is almost suspicious. Jake is gullible in the way of someone who has never needed to be otherwise. He grew up sheltered, the son of merchants who made their fortune honestly. He entered the Academy naive and has somehow remained naive despite everything. People assume he's stupid. He isn't. His sin is Gluttony, but his relationship with it is gentle, he genuinely loves food, experience, sensation. His magic lets him consume and convert almost anything into energy. Jake has known the old Y/N since they were children. Their families were neighbors before her parents moved to the capital.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ (ᴍᴀᴍᴍᴏɴ) ⚜
Preacher of Avaritia and sinner of Greed.
Sunghoon is cold in the way of marble statues and winter season. He's tall, pale, and beautiful in an uncanny, untouchable way. He is a Graveborn, a being who died and was brought back through necromantic ritual. He dresses impeccably. His family is old money, old magic, old everything. Professors love him. He is respectful, diligent, and never causes trouble. This is a performance, but it's a very good one. He expresses emotion precisely and sparingly. When he tells you something, he means it with his whole being, but you have to pay attention to notice. His greed manifests as possessiveness. He collects things, artifacts, knowledge, people and once something is his, he does not let it go. He protects what is his with a ferocity that surprises people who assumed he was emotionless. The old Y/N was his. He loved her, genuinely and completely, and she ended their engagement because she was bored. He has been trying to win her back ever since, not out of desperation but out of certainty. She belongs with him. He knows this. He just needs to convince her.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ᴊᴜɴɢᴡᴏɴ (ʙᴇᴇʟᴢᴇʙᴜʙ) ⚜
Preacher of Vanagloria and sinner of Envy.
Jungwon is an elf, which means he's older than he looks and knows more than he shows. He appears to be in his early twenties but is closer to eighty. He's the student council president, the head of disciplinary committees, the voice of the student body to the faculty. He has positioned himself so thoroughly in the Academy's power structure that removing him would require dismantling the structure itself. Jungwon envies everything and admits nothing. His envy is not the hot, impulsive kind. It's cold and patient and deeply strategic. He studies the people he envies. He learns their weaknesses. He positions himself to benefit from their eventual downfall. He's not trusted so much as accepted. Everyone knows Jungwon is playing an angle. It's just easier to let him play than to fight him. He's helpful when it suits him, obstructive when it doesn't, and always, always aware of where everyone stands in the hierarchy.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜ ɴɪ-ᴋɪ (ᴀʙᴀᴅᴅᴏɴ) ⚜
Preacher of Acedia and sinner of Sloth.
Ni-ki is a shapeshifter, which means his appearance is technically negotiable. His default form is tall and lean, with sharp features and dark eyes that look perpetually half-lidded. He skips classes constantly but maintains decent grades through natural talent and last-minute cramming. He's athletic in a way that seems unfair given how little effort he puts into it. Shapeshifting burns calories and keeps his body in constant low-level motion even when he's sitting still. He's usually found in Snail Hall, horizontal on whichever surface looks most comfortable. Ni-ki's sloth is not laziness exactly. It's more like extreme efficiency. He doesn't do things that don't interest him. He doesn't engage with people who bore him. He has a very clear sense of what matters to him and everything else gets minimal effort. He admires the old Y/N. She was everything he wasn't: driven, dominant, effortlessly powerful. He wants to be like her, or at least he wants the version of her he's constructed in his head.
Summary : never in your life you thought you'd finally find them, your mates
Warnings : mdni!! abuse (not by them), fated mates, smut, MF, MM (and potential more), cursing, threats, marks, p in v, knotting, oral (the warnings will be updated)
The chapters are posted on fridays!!
A/N : i won't put a lot of pressure on myself so the length of the chapters can change a lot depending on my inspiration.
A/N 2 : this fic is inspired by a fic called "finding my pack" where only one chapter is disponible on Tumblr and the rest is $5 on patreon so i chose to write and imagine the other chapters myself!!
Soulmate AU
pairing - OT7 x reader , BTS x reader
word count - 13.8k+
summary - You are an up and coming author for M-Buzz; Manhattan, New York’s popular and new news source, set with the task of interviewing the globally famous band, BTS. You also have a bit of a glitch in your system. While everyone else has a set of initials and a birth date to signify who their soulmate is, you have a set of 14 letters and 21 numbers, something unheard of and rather stigmatized; and something that confuses you, that is, until you meet the men you’re interviewing.
warnings - cussing , eventual smut , MDNI , early writing (literal years ago) pls go gentle on me
P2 -
Alright, you’d be the first to admit that there were wonderful advantages to the job you’d landed three years ago. You spoke 3 languages fluently, which made you the go-to person for Korean and Japanese interviews with a language barrier. You could meet celebrities that other ordinary American interviewers couldn’t truly connect with on your level, while saving your company a few bucks they’d otherwise spend to book an actual translator.
Other interviews with the bands, actors, and high-profile socialites would be limited to watered-down conversations held with those celebrities and their translators. So, yeah, you’d pretty much been given the highly prestigious press title the moment your employer had seen the “fluently speaks 3 languages” bullet point on your resume.
“KPop and Japanese anime have blown up in America over the past few years!” She’d told you excitedly. “You’d be an amazing addition to our team.”
And so you had started working your ass off immediately. Currently, you have interviews with Hideo Kojima, Hayao Miyazaki, Hajime Isayama, EXO, and BLACKPINK on your belt. You were looked up to in your work environment because of your dedication to the interviewing process. Plus, your income kept you comfortable. You were happy, for the most part. However, at times, you felt complacent.
Sure, your job was amazing. Being able to speak 3 languages alone was a feat in and of itself, but at the end of the day, you felt lacking. Your social life had dwindled, something your family had been worried about since the second month of your working career, and although you thought it a nonissue at first, the loneliness built until it was something you could hardly stand to endure, but it was also inescapable.
You didn’t have the initials and birthdate of your soulmate etched in black ink on your left wrist, as everyone did at birth; instead, you had 14 letters and 28 numbers. The long sequence of characters had earned you confused looks from doctors at your yearly check-ups and a lack of social life. You’d had them memorised by heart.
K.S.M.Y.J.H.K.N.P.J.K.T.J.J The stutter in the last two letters irked you to no end. And the numbers were a complete mind-fuck.
12.4.92.3.9.93.2.18.94.9.12.94.10.13.95.12.30.95.9.1.97. What any of it meant was a fucking mystery to you and everyone around you. You were an enigma.
It wasn’t an existence you were keen on, and you know that it was a huge chunk of your family’s worrying. But you’d accepted long ago that you weren’t going to have a soulmate, that you’d either have to find someone else who was as misfortunate as you, or just settle with being alone save for one-offs and porn. It wasn’t like you weren’t living damn close to those truths now.
You can still vaguely hear your mother chastising you for having such a full schedule. “You’ll never find your soulmate if the only thing you care about is your work,” she’d told you, thinking the overabundance of black on your wrist was a clerical error, and your lesser-than history of romance was a result of you not looking for them hard enough. It took everything in you not to break down at her harsh words, but you mustered a weak, “I’ve found them already, Mom, my work is my soulmate,” and left her townhouse. That was 6 months ago, and you’d not seen her since. You still stuck by your words, because even if you were lonely, you were beyond appreciative for the job you had, soulmate be damned.
But sometimes the loneliness was deafening, and it left a question ringing in your head like a church bell. Was the writing really worth it?
Friends from college couldn’t keep up with your hectic lifestyle of needing to be ready to board a plane at any given moment for an immediate press conference or high-profile interview your boss had scored you. You couldn’t have a pet out of fear of never being home to care for it, and your family couldn’t pause holidays because you’d have a layover flight that day.
So, long story short, yes, your job was amazing and had definitely provided you with some of the best moments of your life (it’s not every day that you get to ask Hideo Kojima about Death Stranding,) but it’d also enhanced the evergrowing emptiness of your solitude, and piled on your shoulders round-the-clock work hours.
“Y/N! Thank god you’re here,” your co-worker, Elle, greets you. She’d been the one person you could rely on the most since your first day. She’s a pretty girl, a few years younger than you, her colorful pencil skirts and chiffon button-ups always brightening your day as soon as you walk into the office.
“Good morning to you, too, Elle.” You tell her, shocked when she quite literally hugs the breath out of your body. “What’s gotten into you this morning?” You ask her, stepping back to look into her eyes.
“I had a few too many cups of coffee…” She smirks, “But, you’ll be proud of me! I got your interview with BLACKPINK edited, and it’ll be fresh on the press and on YouTube within the next few hours or so.”
“That’s great! Thanks, Elle. You do need to be careful with your caffeine intake this early in the morning, though. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”
She cringes at the reminder, vividly recalling the day she’d forgotten to eat and passed out when she’d gotten a papercut opening her Secret Santa gift. It’d cost her a week’s pay in medical bills once she’d been released from the hospital with a few stitches she’d scored from landing on her face in the office’s rec room.
“Point taken,” she grimaces.
You chuckle, nudging her shoulder as you work your way into your office, Elle on your toes the whole time. Your focus drifts as she tells you about her late night and early morning, because this is routine for the two of you now. You’re both free to chat amongst yourselves if you’ve finished your current assignments, something you’re grateful for, until your boss either emails you or makes her way into your office to assign you your next task.
“Y/N?” Elle asks you, dragging your jaded attention from the swirling of the hot chocolate she’s readied on your desk, back to her face.
“Huh?” You ask drowsily.
“I said, did you hear that the Bangtan Boys are going to do a mini-tour around Seoul, Daegu, and Busan before they go on a break?” She says, exasperated by your lack of interest in her earlier monologues.
“I actually hadn’t heard of that, yet.” You reply lightly, interest piqued, “is anyone from our office covering the tour yet? I know Andrew speaks some Korean, albeit not as fluently as I do.”
“I haven’t heard anything in the office yet,” she answers. “But, that leads to the question, er, well, favor I have to ask of you.”
You eye her questioningly, already cautious.
“It’s just, I know that you’re sometimes allowed to bring a tagalong when there’s big stories like this to cover, so I don’t know… I was wondering if maybe I could be your plus-one if you get the story?”
“Ugh, Elle, you know we don’t really get to choose the stand-in reporters for those trips,” you groan.
“Andrew told me that when he’s been given big stories that he always takes Cam with him,” she whines. “And I’ve never been out of the country, let alone the continent. It’d be an amazing opportunity for me to be able to leave New York for once.”
She pleads at you with her eyes, full pink lips puckered and trembling.
“If- and I mean if,” you emphasize, seeing how her pout turns into a near-blinding smile, “if I get the story, because honestly, we don’t even know if there is one; then I might consider asking Mrs. Powell if you can assist me as a co-writer.”
“Yes!” Elle shrieks, jumping up and down, chiffon bouncing and blonde hair waving across the room wildly. “I knew I could count on you! God, you’re so awesome.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you huff, checking your email. “Powell wants me to write a follow-up on the BLACKPINK interview, so I’m going to start on that. I’ll find you around lunch so we can discuss what I summarize,” you tell her, “oh, and Elle?” You say, stopping her in the doorway of your office before she leaves. “Remind me to kick Andrew’s ass later for being such a mushroom.”
Elle laughs, stepping out of your office with a skip in her step.
You didn’t exactly hate Andrew, but you trusted him about as far as you could throw him. He was ruthless in his interviewing and even more so in his everyday life. Beyond that, you guys had the same working position, prospective head reporter for M-Buzz, an up-and-coming Manhattan news source, and both you and Andrew wanted the head reporting position that only one of you would get.
Four hours, three cups of coffee, and two bathroom trips later, the follow-up is written; the 4,000 words glaring at you from the computer screen. You type in Powell’s email address and hit send, letting out a sigh as you watch the check mark change from grey to green.
Your mind, the persistent bastard, decides to wander back towards the dreaded soulmate topic, and although you weren’t too keen on staying in the mindset, you can’t shake it.
At 21 years old, you’d never met another individual with a lack of ‘the signature,’ as most Americans referred to it. You’d moved cross country a multitude of times, studying various current events that arose, and interviewing until your mind was numb, but you’d not once encountered anyone with the same blank canvas that your wrist housed.
You’d seen the way some people would glance at your wrist, nosy tendencies flaring, and then the way they’d raise their brows in shock, looking to you like you were some sort of circus animal. The pity in their eyes was acidic and made you want to vomit.
You’d also have witnessed the irritation that would swell in your chest when you saw people treating their soulmates poorly, or ignoring their existence altogether.
Cam and Elle could deny it all they wanted, but they were, in fact, soulmates. No amount of repression and cold insolence would change fate. They couldn’t deny their cosmic attraction forever, just like you couldn’t deny your cosmic solitude.
There’s a small knock on your door, and then Elle is peeking her wide-eyed face through a crack, looking sorry for interrupting your train of thought.
“Mrs. Powell just asked for you and Andrew to go to her office,” she tells you.
“Wonderful,” you quip, standing up and straightening your pencil skirt, not at all excited at the uncomfortable situation you’d be in once you entered your boss’s office.
“I really think it’s about BTS…” Elle says shyly, walking alongside you towards the elevator.
“It most likely is. She’s probably going to have us kill each other for the story.”
“You were always a scrapper,” your friend jokes.
“Don’t give me too much credit, Elle. I grew up in Washington. The closest thing to a fight I’ve been in was trying to squeeze into a bus with ten other people during a rainstorm.”
“I’ve seen how you get when you want a position,” she tells you as the elevator doors start to slide shut, “you’ll knock 'em dead.”
Her face disappears behind the metal panels, and the elevator rises.
You could go for the job, yank it out from under Andrew’s nose, and enjoy Seoul, you hadn’t been to before, and you did very much enjoy traveling. Or you could simply stay home and watch Friends reruns, edit another reporter’s papers, and drink champagne. You could buy some Ben and Jerry’s and take some sick days, go to a spa, and just relax.
The latter wasn’t you, though. You were driven, adventurous, and properly bored with New York. You needed a change of scenery, even if it were only for a few weeks, and if you could take Elle, that’d only make Seoul more enjoyable.
With your mind set, and the doors to the elevator opening upon arrival to the thirtieth floor, you step out and walk with purpose towards the office marked “Powell.”
“Thanks for finally joining us, Y/N,” Andrew mutters as soon as you’ve stepped foot into the room.
“Nice to see you, too, Andrew.” You smile, masking irritation with friendly courtesy.
“Cool it, Klein,” Powell huffs, eyeing Andrew coldly. “Go ahead and have a seat, Y/N,” she motions towards the chair opposite where she’s sitting at her desk, and you take it, avoiding the glare Andrew sends your way as you sit to his left.
“I’m sure you’ve both been bombarded with notifications throughout the day about the ‘Persona’ tour taking place in South Korea later this month?” She asks, smiling, when you both nod. “Great, well, I had Margaret over on the tech floor set us up with better alerting algorithms last month, and they’ve worked magic for us today. We managed to book a two-person reporting gig for the entirety of the tour-”
“You’re sending me with Y/N? Doesn’t that seem a little redundant, given we’re both going for the same job?” Andrew groans, running his hand over his pointed face.
“Let me finish, Andrew,” Powell snaps, “I was going to say that you guys could pick who, amongst yourselves, would go with an apprentice, but given your outburst, I am choosing to send Y/N. We’re sending a reporter to interview the band and review the tour, not fight amongst coworkers.”
You hold back a laugh, shocked that you’d gotten the job without having to lift a finger.“But- I didn’t mean to”
“But you did,” Powell states dryly. “And now Y/N will be going to Korea for three weeks while you continue covering the President’s tweets.”
That, you do laugh at. “At least you’ll have a lot of content,” you joke.
Andrew huffs, grabs his coffee from the end table between your chairs, and leaves the room swiftly, jaw locked and scowl present.
“So,” Powell shifts her gaze from the slightly slammed office door to your still-shocked expression, “your trip is pretty much all set up, you leave in three days, and the tour starts in five. The hotels will be paid for, of course, I just need to know who you’d like to bring along with you and whether you’ll be needing a spare room or just one with two beds when we book your stays.”
“Oh, just one room will be fine,” you tell her, “I’ll bring Elle along with me, she does a spectacular job of helping to revise my articles already.”
“Sounds great, I’ll just let HR know who’s being sent and fill out some paperwork, and you guys should be set. Your first interview with BTS will be the night you land, so you’ll have to get situated in the hotel quickly. From there on, I’ll continue emailing and calling with updates and schedules. Pretty smooth sailing, all and all.”
“Just how I like it,” you smile, shaking her offered hand and leaving the room.
You don’t expect Andrew to be waiting for you at the elevator, but there he is, in all of his angry-man glory; face red and temper very obviously still flaring.
“Andrew, I really don’t thi--”
“No, you listen here,” he stops you, voice low and threatening. “I’ve worked my fucking ass off to be where I am today and I will not have my career ruined by some up-and-coming 20 year old floozy. You hear me?” He shouts, finger waving in your face as sweat beads on his forehead.
“I don’t understand why you even-”
“I don’t care if you don’t understand! My point is, watch your fucking back and stay the hell out of my way.” He spits, pushing past you and towards the stairs on the opposite side of the hallway.
What the fuck?
“He said what?” Elle asks, shoving another forkful of ramen into her mouth.
“The man’s fucking insane,” you tell her, twisting your own noodles with your fork, “it’s not like I targeted him as soon as I walked into the office! I literally just sat there and listened. Didn’t have to utter a peep.”
“I can’t believe he called you a floozy. Is he stuck in the ’60s?” She mocks. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and after a situation like that, no one can blame you… But, Y/N, look on the bright side. We’re going to have so much fun in South Korea. I can’t thank you enough for letting me come with you. I really can’t.”
“Buy me lunch once a week for the next two months and we’ll call it even,” you joke.
“Deal,” Elle replies instantly. “You’re the only person I know who will eat noodles every day with me and not get tired of them.”
“It’s good food,” you reply, “people are just ungrateful.”
It’s almost as if you’ve blinked and you’re getting off the plane in Seoul. The last few days passed by in a blur as you and Elle attended a few meetings, going over company policies and general rules of thumb. No sexually explicit questions, no touching the interviewee, be on time for the interviews, dress appropriately, etc.
“It’s colorful here,” Elle exhales, stepping to your side as you wait for a taxi. “Kind of exhilarating.”
“It’s pretty breathtaking,” you agree, smiling at a taxi driver who finally acknowledges the two of you and pulls to the curb. You give him the hotel address once he’s situated your luggage in the trunk, and you rest your back against the leather interior as the car begins to weave through traffic.
“Where do you wanna go first?” Elle asks after nearly half an hour of silence, “We could go to a local restaurant? Cam told me about a few places he’s been to that have completely ruined American cuisine for him.”
“Well, first we have an interview.” You placate her, “food, after. Maybe we could walk the streets later and sightsee?”
“Mmm, fair enough.” Elle smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. No, I really mean it,” she says, shrugging off the interjection that’s ready to roll off your tongue. “I know people usually say thank you just to serve their own egos, but I really mean it. You’re a good friend, and I appreciate that.”
You blush, not quite knowing how to respond.
“We’re going to have a great time,” Elle adds, filling the silence, “this will be the best work trip either of us has ever been on, I swear it.”
“Alright, you’re getting sappy,” you chuckle, nudging her shoulder. “Save it for when we reflect on the trip a few months down the line, huh?”
“You’re not very emotive, are you?” She jokes.
“Hey, I can be emotional. I just choose not to act on my emotions in front of other people. I promise you, inside- very deep inside my body, my psyche is curled in the fetal position and crying from just how you’ve moved me.”
“Shut up,” she scoffs, shoving you lightly. Her eyes light up as she glances out of the passenger window from her back seat. “Is that it?”
You follow her gaze to the gargantuan building ahead of the taxi, and your mouth gapes. “That’s it…” You breathe, completely taken aback by how luxurious the hotel looked.
“Wow…”
“You can say that again.”
You pay the taxi driver and bow, thanking him in Korean. Elle is already out of the small vehicle, pulling her luggage out of the trunk with a few grunts. You couldn’t hold off your work forever, despite how nervous you were growing. You could do this. You knew you could. Turning to the nearest bellhop and signaling him over, you begin to pull your suitcase out of the trunk.
“We have roughly 2 hours before we’re supposed to be downtown to meet with BTS for the interview,” you tell her. “So that gives us an hour to get ready. Powell said Big Hit offered a driver to us during the tour.”
“A driver? But we’re interviewing them, not the other way around,” she replies, following you and the bellhop as he escorts you to the front desk inside the massive building to retrieve your key.
“I guess they really appreciate American media covering them,” you tell her, “maybe they’re considering another U.S tour sooner rather than later,” you shrug.
“Your keys, Miss L/N.” The bellhop tells you, handing you the golden objects on a ring. Room #901, that’d put you pretty high up.
“Thank you,” you tell him, smiling widely. “Would you be able to lead the way and get our bags up there? We’re on a time crunch,” you tell him in his native tongue. He nods his agreement and grabs a silver luggage cart from behind the front desk.
You’re shocked that M-Buzz has put you and Elle on the top floor, not quite expecting the obvious pampering.
“This is just so exciting!” Elle chirps, nearly scaring the poor bellhop. You offered him an apology for her outburst and huff. “I mean, the top floor? Cam has never mentioned being treated to a top-floor suite.”
“It’s not what I figured we’d be getting, that’s for sure.” You mumble, “Maybe there’s some sort of catch? An extra 50,000-word write-up? Deducted pay?”
“Oh, give M-Buzz some credit, Y/N.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, I do, and I’m not complaining in the slightest. I just didn’t expect it. We’re only going to be in Seoul for a week or so anyway. We have two other major cities to go to after.”
“You have a point,” Elle agrees, “but I don’t think they’d dock our pay. The write-up seems more realistic. But you have gifted fingers, it’ll be a breeze for you.”
“Magic fingers?” You question her, cheeks blazing.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Y/N. Everyone around the office calls you Magic Fingers because of how quickly you can pull a five-star article out of your ass.”
You send her a pointed glare, this time verbally apologizing to the bellhop for her crudeness. You only had ten floors to ascend, and then you’d be free from the claustrophobic confines of the elevator and the awkward social setting looming inside of it.
“I just write whatever pops into my head, I don’t overthink it…” You explain, feeling completely self-conscious, breathing out a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally open, revealing a large hallway with only one door on either wall.
“Penthouse 901,” the bellhop announces, shoving the key into the lock and pushing the door open for you and Elle.
“Holy crap,” Elle squeaks.
“Thank you,” you tell the bellhop, handing him a 10,000 won tip, hoping it’ll cover the cost for Elle’s loose lips. He bows and exits the room, leaving you and Elle to gape at the extravagant room alone.
“This is kind of amazing,” you whisper, eyeing the white marble floors and granite countertops in the massive kitchen.
“Kind of amazing? It’s fucking incredible, Y/N,” Elle corrects you. “They even sent us a bottle of champagne.”
“For a reporting job?” You wonder aloud, still not quite grasping the intricacy of the penthouse you were situated in.
“Who knows?” Elle answers, “I’m not complaining.”
You shake the slight unease you feel, and start to unpack your belongings, makeup bag, and toothbrush, some of the first things you grasp. “I’m going to find a bathroom in this castle and get ready. You should do the same,” you chide, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail.
“Meet you back here in an hour?” Elle shouts, already at the opposite end of the mini-mansion.
“Sounds good!” You holler, pushing open a door and gasping at the bedroom in front of you. Satin sheets, dark maroon walls, wall-length mirrors, and a massive television screen glaring at you with purpose. “Wow,” you whisper, openly admiring the intricacy of the carpet and bedding. “Later, Y/N,” you order yourself, refocusing your whirling mind on getting ready for the interview mere hours ahead of you.
You had drafted a multitude of questions for said interview while on the flight, thankful that Elle had drifted asleep for the entire duration you were in the air. God knows you would’ve gotten nothing done had your coworker been awake.
Aside from clothing and a tad bit of makeup, you were ready. Beyond ready, in fact. So why were nerves still prickling at the back of your psyche and rendering you a shaking mess right now?
You want to break down and have a good cry, but you know that’ll serve you no good. You have a job to do here, and you weren’t going to let M-Buzz and Elle down. Maybe if you did a great job you’d have more extravagant trips to look forward to, Elle included.
You splash your face with water from the connecting bathroom, and look at your face in the mirror. Nerves definitely had done their work on you, your pupils were still slightly dilated from your strange near-panic attack and you had cold sweats.
Thankfully, you had packed your favorite lavender body oil, which always seemed to soothe your anxiety when huge work or life obstacles such as this clouded your mind. A pat of the scented liquid against your throat and wrists, a natural makeup look completed with a mauve lip, and your new black pencil skirt paired with your pastel pink blouse and a high bun had you feeling rejuvenated and even excited for the interview. You didn’t even trip once in your nude Miu Miu heels on your way from your bedroom to the living room.
Elle waited, as she said she would, in the entryway of the luxurious penthouse. “I thought you said Powell was going to hook us up with a one-bedroom?”
“She did,” you tell her, “can you please not use the phrase ‘hook us up with’ in a sentence, please?” You groan. “It sounds like you’re talking about us fucking the room.”
“You are especially frisky today, Y/N what’s gotten into you?” She asks, wiggling her brows suggestively.
“Nothing has gotten into me, Elle,” you huff, “I’m just excited to do the interview, that’s all. I wanna bring up astrology signs and stuff,” you explain, “it’s going to be fun!”
“For you,” Elle quips, leading you out of the room and into the elevator. “Not everyone is as involved with astrology as you are, you know.”
“I’m not involved with astrology,” you huff, “readers like to learn this stuff about their celebrity crushes. It’s not far-fetched,” you grumble.
“I’m just teasing you,” she laughs, nudging you. “I’m sure the interview will be fun. I know you were brainstorming our questions and topics the entire flight.”
“Wha-”
“You type loud,” she shrugs. “It’s good to be prepared, don’t be embarrassed.”
You want to argue with her for the sake of your ego, but you know she was right. She’d embarrassed you, not necessarily a hard feat for her, given how well she’d come to know you.
“Powell wants me to try and interview them in mainly English, but she said that if I think it’s easier to do it in Korean, that would work, too.” You tell Elle, kicking at the elevator floor as it continues its slow descent. “I don’t like it when she leaves me to make the big decisions.”
“Oh, Y/N. You always do this.” Elle groans, rubbing her hand against her face.
“Do what?” You ask, slightly defensive.
“Psych yourself out before the interviews you do. You second-guess everything, and then the second we walk into the interviewing room, you completely shift. It’s like you were never worried in the first place, you just… go with the flow?” She explains, “it makes the worrying you do beforehand incredibly frustrating. Especially knowing how confident and driven you are outside of interviews and work.”
“I’m sorry…” You say, sad that you’d made her even an inkling upset.
“Don’t be, it’s very you. I’m not frustrated you experience it, just frustrated you don’t seem to credit yourself enough on how spectacular of a job you do all in all. And as far as the English or Korean topic goes, the guys have been learning more English from what I’ve learned, so they might surprise you and make the decision for you.”
“I appreciate that,” you tell her, because truthfully, you do. “I’ll try my best not to be a mope the rest of the tour, I swear!” You hold out your pinky, grateful that she doesn’t leave you hanging as you lock in your promise.
The elevator finally dings, and the two of you step out, crossing the lobby quickly and hopping into the black SUV that waits outside of the hotel with your name in the passenger window. The driver greets you, quickly explaining his job at Big Hit, which literally consists of driving interviewers and members of Big Hit to and from locations during tours and press conferences.
“We appreciate you driving us,” you tell him in Korean, leaning towards the front seats so you can see him better, and noting his slight blush and the creases that form at the corners of his eyes as he takes your compliment.
“We will be arriving at the Big Hit building in ten minutes,” he tells you, “it’s a pretty short drive.”
“That’s great. We’ll make it on time, then.” You smile, repeating his statement in English for Elle as she watches the night scenery flitter by her outside of her window.
“Do you think they’ll be as beautiful as they are on screen in person?” Elle asks.
“More than likely,” you answer her, “but we aren’t here to pine over them. You’ve got a soulmate back home to worry about,” you chastise her.
“Yeah, but you don’t.” She replies dryly after a few minutes pass, “and I am still single, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you wave her off, “you and Cam have both made that abundantly clear.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body while she sulks. “It’d be weird if we got together.”
“Why?” You ask her, interest piqued, “Because you work together? Don’t give me that.”
“No, because I dated his brother in high school.”
You were not expecting that. Whatsoever.
“You dated his brother?” You ask incredulously.
“Yes, his brother. Adam.” She snaps. “Didn’t end all too well.”
“I’m sorry, Elle,” you tell her honestly, “I didn’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t joke about it.”
“It’s okay, there are reasons Cam and I don’t bring it up.” She shrugs. “Oh, look!” She points, and you follow her finger, seeing the mostly-glass-constructed building that’s lit up down the expansive driveway you’ve turned onto.
“That’s a lot of windows.”
“Nice assessment.” Elle laughs.
“Thanks. It was exhausting to make.” You joke back, pulling your notebook you kept with you during interviews, out of your purse.
“I can’t believe we’re going to meet them,” Elle smiles, “I’ve been listening to them since 2 Cool 4 Skool was released.”
“I listened to Wings when it was released, but aside from that, research is my extent of BTS knowledge.” You tell her.
“Wait, what?” She asks, taken aback.
“I just kinda stopped listening to music and paying it any attention after my dad passed away in high school.” You shrug. “They released that in my senior year, so I gave it a listen. It was good, but I don’t know. I didn’t want to listen to music like I did when my dad was around, I guess.”
The car comes to a stop before Elle can reply, and your driver steps out to open your door. You bow, thanking him and heading towards the Big Hit worker who waits for you and Elle at the front door to the Big Hit establishment.
“Y/N?” The young woman asks.
“That is me.” You answer kindly, shaking her offered hand.
“The boys are waiting for you and your co-writer in the main room. I am Mai, and I will be guiding you there and staying on hand for any questions you may have during the interview.” She tells you.
“That’s wonderful! Thank you.” You answer her, following her and signaling for Elle to do the same as she leads you over the threshold and into the marvelous entryway of the building.
“This way,” she directs you, stepping down a small flight of stairs and into a ridiculously well-lit room, every piece of furniture and decor white, save for the three chairs and two sofas that are burgundy.
You can feel sets of eyes on you as you enter the room, but you wait until you’re sat in the lounge chair that Mai directs you to stand in front of to raise your chin and look the boys in the eyes.
To say they’re gorgeous is quite possibly a disservice to them. They’re ethereal, otherworldly.
“Hello,” you address them, your voice surprisingly steady given your inward disarray from simply looking at them. “My name is Y/N L/N, I’m a reporter from M-Buzz, an up-and-coming news source in Manhattan, New York.”
Some of the boys are glancing at you with confused expressions on their faces, and you can swear that two of them look at you with complete shock and bewilderment. You save yourself a lengthy self-analysis and repeat your introduction to them in Korean.
“Woah! Are you fluent in Korean?” One with a giant smile, black hair, a yellow Gucci crewneck, and an exuberant voice asks you.
“Hoseok, we haven’t even introduced ourselves,” another rebukes the man who must be Hoseok, his voice a velvety, rich sound that nearly has you blushing.
“I’m so sorry!” Hoseok rushes, bowing to you, “My name is Jung Hoseok, or JHope! It’s nice to meet you.”
You smile gently at him, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Hoseok.”
“I’m Kim Namjoon, or RM,” the one with the rich voice tells you, bowing as Hoseok did. He’s very well defined and the tallest of the bunch. His lips are drawn up in a smile, but you can tell that they’re shapely. You absentmindedly notice his hands, the size of them, and the muscles that shift in his arms as he plays with his hands in his lap.
“Don’t keep her all to yourselves,” another voice rings out. You glance at the owner of the new voice, pleased with what you see, though you’d never say that aloud. His lips are full, eyes bright, and hair a butterscotch blond. “I’m Kim Seokjin, but ARMY calls me Jin, or Worldwide Handsome.”
You smile, returning his bow.
“I’m Kim Taehyung!” A man with a bandana tied across his forehead to keep back his chocolate brown hair smiles, eyes bright and boxy-smile infectious. “ARMY calls me V.”
“I’m Jeon Jungkook!” The muscular figure next to Taehyung introduces himself, his smile wide and cheeks flushed as you shift your gaze to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiles even wider, a feat you thought impossible.
“I’m Park Jimin!” The next introduces himself, his smile sweet, but something lying beneath his eyes tells you that sweet is something he can be far from. His hair is a light pastel pink, his eyes crinkle as he smiles at you, bowing. You recognize that he’d been one of the men to look at you in shock.
You look to the last figure, sensing his eyes still on you. They are. He looks to you with the same expression Jimin had prior to the introductions, eyes serious as they take you in. “Min Yoongi,” he says simply, nodding his head towards you.
You smile at him, slightly uncomfortable with the way he and Jimin seem to be fixated on you.
“It’s nice to meet all of you. This is my co-writer, Elle.” You motion towards your protege. “She doesn’t speak Korean.” You explain.
“Ah,” Namjoon speaks up, “they aren’t all fluent in speaking English yet, but they’ve been practicing and understand most of it. We can do the interview in English and then translate what needs to be translated into Korean. If that works?”
“That’s great!” You answer him, breaking into English to explain the conversation to Elle. You smile when the guys all introduce themselves to her in English. The beginning of the interview goes about how all interviews ever go.
The cameras are set up, you redo your introductions, and you ask the basic questions. Favorite colors, favorite songs on their current album, favorite songs of theirs in general, celeb crushes, etc.
You’re excited when the first thirty minutes pass and the interview opens up to the part you’re most hyped for. Astrology. This had been fun to come up with.
“So, for this next part of the interview, I’d like for us to talk about our astrology signs in order from oldest to youngest. The fans are really excited about this.”
“Dinosaur Jin!” Taehyung shouts, earning guffaws of laughter from everyone but Jin.
“You won’t be laughing when you’re 26 and exhausted,” he pouts.
“So, Jin-hyung is the oldest. When’s your birthday?” You ask, preparing your notepad.
“December 4, 1992.” He tells you, and your brain momentarily comes to a stop. 12.4.92 plays on a loop in your mind. “That makes you a Sagittarius,” you tell him, “your sign is an archer! Your element is fire, your birthstone is topaz, and your ruling planet is Jupiter, the biggest one.”
“As it should be.” He quips, wiggling his eyebrows at his bandmates.
“Who’s next?” You ask, nerves building.
“Suga!” and “Yoongi” are immediately shouted out, and the man in question tears his eyes from you to look at his members.
“Huh?” He asks.
“You weren’t paying attention again, hyung! You have to tell Y/N when your birthday is,” Mai interjects from her director’s chair.
“Oh, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles, turning back to face you, gaze heated. “My birthday is March 9, 1993.”
You freeze, more of the code on your mind ringing in your ears. 3.9.93.
“That makes you, uh…” You trail off, thinking. “Pisces! That’s it. Yeah, your sign is two koi, your element is water, your birthstone is amethyst, and your ruling planet is Neptune!”
“Cool,” he answers emotionlessly, still gazing at you, looking nothing short of perplexed.
“Next?” You call.
“Hoseok!” Namjoon tells you, looking at his friend proudly.
“My birthday is February 18, 1994! I think I was already told that I’m an Aquarius!” He explains happily.
You’d love to reply with enthusiasm, but the numbers are rolling in your mind, and now you’re tying the letters into them as well. Jin’s birthday was the first set of numbers on your wrist, but his initials were S.K? Wait, no. If you used Korean, as you should, his initials were K.S.
Your feet lift you out of your seat and out of the building without a second thought, and you race for the car, already asking the driver to take you back to your hotel immediately. He looks concerned, but acquiesces, pulling out of the driveway swiftly. In your haste, you’d left your notebook and Elle, but you’d shoot her a text or call her once you got back to the penthouse. You’d needed to do some research and figure out if you were right on this.
Because there was no way in hell that BTS, in its entirety, was your soulmate(s).
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Kim Seokjin. December 4, 1992. The name and birthdate correspond perfectly with the first set of initials and date. You could chalk it up to coincidence, but looking more into it had your heart threatening to leap from your throat.
Min Yoongi. M.Y. The second set of initials, another match. March 9, 1993. Another flutter rose in your chest.
Jung Hoseok. J.H. February 18, 1994.
Kim Namjoon. K.N. September 12, 1994.
Park Jimin. P.J. October 13, 1995.
Kim Taehyung. K.T. December 30, 1995.
And Jeon Jungkook. J.J. The stutter at the end of your frustratingly long list of numbers. September 1, 1997.
You’d need a massive bottle of vodka to wash down the events of this evening. The Big Hit driver, Shei, you’d learned his name on the drive back to the hotel, had asked you numerous times what was happening. You couldn’t blame him; you’d essentially shoved him back into the SUV and ordered him to take you back to the hotel as if your life depended on it.
He didn’t hesitate; you’d figured that wasn’t in his code of conduct. He obliged immediately, peeling out of the Big Hit Entertainment driveway without a care to give.
He did want answers, as any person under the amount of stress and complete confusion you’d forced onto his shoulders would be. But how were you supposed to explain that during the most pivotal and important interview in your career to date, you’d discovered and found that not only did you have a soulmate, you had seven! And to make a confusing situation even more confusing, all of your soulmates made up one of the most sensational boy groups ever? Shei would probably make a U-turn on the freeway and take you to a psychiatrist, which, now that you think about it, could be helpful.
“You left me!” Elle shouts through the phone, “I had to wing the rest of the interview, and the boys all got really quiet after we finished the astrology skit!”
“Wait- finished it? How?” You question her, momentarily forgetting about the inner soliloquy.
“You left your notebook in your chair! I told them about your horoscope and then mine.” She huffs. “That’s not what matters, though! Don’t try and get me sidetracked. You left me alone, and I didn’t know what to do! I just listed out your questions like a robot!”
“You told them my horoscope?” You choke out, breathing becoming more difficult with each passing second, she doesn’t answer.
“What the fuck, Y/N? Weren’t you going to? The notes said to compare and contrast our horoscopes with theirs!”
You mentally slap yourself, angry with yourself that you’d forgotten your notebook and that you hadn’t prepped Elle better, for her own sake, before the interview.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear…” You sigh. “I just… I had to come back to the hotel.”
“Why?” Elle argues, and you feel the bitter pang of guilt well in your chest. She’d never spoken to you so harshly, and what hurts more is that you know she’s not in the wrong. You were unprofessional. “What was so important that you left me and BTS hanging? You know, we’re going to have to speak to HR about this?”
Fuck. You really didn’t think your actions through at all.
“I can speak to HR,” you reassure her. “There’s no excuse for leaving the interview like that. I know that much. I just- I don’t know! Have you ever had a fight or flight instinct kick in?”
“What? No?” Elle answers. “I don’t understand what that has to do wi-”
“I had to leave, Elle.” You explain, exhaustion and jet lag sinking in and catching up with you. “I just-I went into a weird shock and I needed to leave.”
Elle remains silent for a few minutes, and you almost check the call to make sure she hasn’t hung up on you. “Okay…” she sighs.
“Thank you-”
“No, no, no. Don’t shove the thank you’s onto me right now. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, still. I’m not completely stupid or oblivious, Y/N.” You can hear her grimace through the phone line. “I saw the way that the guys froze up when I told them your birthday.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“And I know for a fact that Yoongi and Jimin looked at you like you’d shocked them with tasers when you gave them your name!”
“Elle-”
“No! Don’t ‘Elle,’ me. Explain to me what’s going on!”
You grip the phone tightly against your ear, afraid to say what you know is most likely the truth. The words are about to slip out of your mouth, but a sob emerges instead, shocking you and most likely scaring Elle.
“I just- there’s so much going on and I don’t know what to do.” You stammer out, shaking on the loveseat you’re curled into. “I can’t even begin to tell you what’s going through my mind right now.”
“Holy shit, it’s that bad? Did one of them hurt you?” She asks, and you can vaguely hear her asking, no, more like ordering, someone to drive her to the hotel.
“No!” You shout, “No! They didn’t hurt me. I’ve never met any of them before.”
“You swear?” She asks, voice slightly wobbly with worry.
“I swear on my life,” you reply instantly. “It’s just way too much to explain over the phone, can’t I just tell you when you get back?”
She hesitantly obliges, but forces you into staying on the line with her until she gets off the hotel elevator onto your floor. You can tell she’s been worrying her ass off when she walks into the living room of the penthouse, eyes wide, pupils dilated and breathing labored.
“Now,” she breathes loudly, “care to explain what the actual hell is going on?”
You scooch over, patting the cushion next to you, and Elle sits down, gaze worrying at your teary eyes and confused face.
You bite your bottom lip, wondering if showing her would be easier than explaining. You know she’d seen the lengthy piece of ink on your wrist before at work, but you’d explained to her that you were just an error in the universe’s system. Certainly, no one in existence, even someone with the largest imagination, would deduce that you had seven famous soulmates.
“Just- look.” You breathe out, deciding on ‘fuck it,’ and shoving your armsleeve up to your elbow. You twist your wrist, giving Elle a very clear view of the long list of numbers and letters. She takes her time, eyeing all of the black print before looking at you, still confused.
“Kim Seokjin,” you point towards the first set of initials, “born on December 4, 1992.” You point to the corresponding date. She knits her brows together, refocusing on the puzzle on your arm.
“Min Yoongi,” you point again, “March 9, 1993.”
“Jung Hoseok,” she whispers in awe. “Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook… Holy shit.”
“And now you see my dilemma.” You conclude, cocooning further into the giant hoodie you’d shrugged into once you got back to the suite. “I always thought that this,” you wave your left arm around dramatically, “was just a sign that I was pretty much condemned to isolation. But, nope! I’ve got seven fucking soulmates and they’re all ridiculously famous. How the hell is any of that supposed to work?”
“Wait,” Elle stops your monologue, “does this mean that they’re all each other’s soulmates? Or is it just your initials and birthdate on their wrists? Or…” she starts, “maybe nothing of yours is on their wrists.”
“Well-”
“No! Because Jimin and Yoongi looked like two fish out of water when you told them your name, and the rest of them looked the same after I’d told them your birthday.” She explains.
“So we can assume that my initials are on their arms?” You question aloud. “I don’t know if I want to jump to that conclusion yet.” You huff, “This all just seems so… ridiculous? I don’t understand how I’d end up with BTS as my soulmate, or is it soulmates? I didn’t think you could even have more than one!”
“It’s not unheard of,” Elle tells you. “My great-grandmother had both her first husband’s and second husband’s initials and birthdates.”
“Yeah, but those are two people,” you say, remembering when she’d told you of her great-grandmother. It’d been on a work trip some months back, if you remember correctly. “I have seven people tattooed across my wrist. And I didn’t plan on marrying seven times.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.” Elle reasons, “We don’t know how their relationship works. We don’t know if they’re just working together or if they’re something more. We don’t know how many initials they have on their arms. They cover them with makeup before every public appearance they make.”
“I guess you’re right…” You grumble. “I just don’t understand. Why me?” You ask no one in particular.
“Maybe you’ve got enough moxie for seven guys,” Elle jokes, nudging you playfully. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re hot! A complete catch. Why shouldn’t you have seven devastatingly attractive men pining for your affections?”
You roll your eyes, groaning at the thought of seven fully grown men trying to get your attention. “It’s a headache waiting to happen,” you tell her, rubbing your temples.
Both of you jump when Elle’s phone rings. You look at her, confusion running amok through your mind. She shrugs, answering the call with a smooth ‘hello.’
“Oh! Hi!” Elle chirps, mouthing ‘Big Hit’ to you. “Ah, that’s so generous of them!” She smiles, “Yes, of course. Nerves can get to anyone,” she points a glance at you. “Tomorrow? That works!” Pause. “Thank you so much, I can’t express how much we appreciate this opportunity.”
She taps off the call, turning to you immediately with a blinding smile.
“The boys worked their magic and have told Big Hit not to file a complaint over your work manners,” she laughs, “and they’d like to meet up again tomorrow for a rerun. At a restaurant they’re having rented out!” She squeals.
“They’re renting out a restaurant?” You cough out, completely taken aback. “And they stopped a formal complaint from being filed?”
“They’re your knights in shining Gucci tuxedos.” Elle laughs.
“Not funny…” You snap. “That’s too much to expect from them…” you sigh.
“You didn’t expect anything,” Elle reasons, “they’re being nice, and honestly? They might be trying to break the ice.”
“What ice?” You groan, offended at her cliché wording.
“You know, the awkwardness that today probably blew up like a helium balloon. You did literally sprint out of the interview after Hoseok mentioned being an Aquarius.”
You blush crimson at the reminder, “Thanks for that.”
“Hey, you’re the one who turned into Usain Bolt during an astrology reading. Not me.”
“Fuck off!” You shout, throwing a couch pillow at her and hitting her directly in the face.
“Uncalled for,” she whines, hitting you back with it. “You have to go see them.”
“No, I don’t!” You argue, “I have options. I could flee the country, or the continent! Go home, pack my little townhouse, and move to Alaska.”
“Alaska?” Elle asks, exasperated. “Really?”
“It’s far enough away.” You shrug.
“Don’t pull this! You should at least meet with them and see what they think of everything. I’m sure they’re as confused as you are.” Elle chides.
“Fine!” You shout, standing from the couch and heading for your bedroom, “but don’t be shocked if I’m in a shitty mood in the morning!”
You hear her laughing as you seclude yourself into your room, the events from the day rendering you beyond exhausted. You let out a big sigh, climbing into your bed and under the covers. You’d be meeting up with the boys for the second time within 24 hours tomorrow.
You honestly couldn’t tell whether you were excited at the nearing reunion, or completely fucking terrified.
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You bolt straight up, cold sweat dripping off your body. You’re confused initially, remembering very vividly how you were drowning a second ago. It takes a few minutes for your body and mind to adjust, the realization that you were dreaming slowly resounding in your mind, slowing your breathing, and calming your racing heartbeat. Your fingers loosen their vice-like hold on the silken sheets beneath your trembling body.
You were in Seoul, and you’d landed, you glance at the clock on the bedside table, roughly 7 hours ago. The number ‘7’ lights up in bold script behind your eyelids. 7 soulmates. BTS.
Your mind whirls through the damn near delusional happenings of the day before, trying to piece together some sort of explanation or resolution to your dilemma, but you come up empty handed. You scoop your phone off the bedside table, immediately opening ‘Google’ and typing in what you assume you should type given your… predicament.
‘What does it mean to have more than one soulmate?’ glares at you, the brightness of the phone screen only adding to the discomfort you feel when researching such a topic at 5 AM. You turn the blinding graphics down, making a sound you can only compare to a car engine failing to start, as the only search results that pop up are for people who have anywhere from 2-4 sets of initials and birthdates.
Okay, having 4 was probably frightening, too. You couldn’t be too harsh on Google or the human race for not having dealt with your specific situation. 7 soulmates? You’d never even considered the possibility of such a pairing.
The same questions Elle had the night before race through your mind as you sit in the hotel bed, at 5 AM, in Seoul, alone.
What if they didn’t have your initials on their arms? What if not all of them had your initials on their arms? What if they were going to make you choose between them?
You felt sick. Sick to your stomach. Not wanting to soil the expensive bed sheets in your room, you rush to the connected bathroom, kneeling pitifully in front of the toilet and emptying your stomach into the porcelain bowl and water below.
You rest against the cool tile of the floor once the heaving has stopped, hair sticking to your forehead, and your head aching. You reach lamely for a courtesy bathrobe that’s tied to the bathroom door, wrapping it around you like a blanket, and use a pile of hand towels as a makeshift pillow, before falling asleep on the bathroom floor.
“Are you okay?” Elle shakes you awake, her blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and eyes wide and worried as she looks at you.
“M’fine.” You grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Just had a bad dream.”
“So you fell asleep in the bathroom?” She asks you, confused.
“No, I felt sick when I remembered what happened last night…” You breathe out.
“Ah,” Elle sighs, “yeah, I can’t imagine what’s going through your head right now.”
“Too much,” you answer her, slowly sitting up.
“I’ll make you some breakfast!” She chirps. “That gives you time to get ready for the meeting with the boys later!”
“Shit, I almost forgot about that. Why’d you have to remind me?” You groan, standing up and grabbing your toothbrush.
“You need to at least talk to them, Y/N. They saved our asses from possible suspension at work and they clearly want to speak to you about the whole… situation.” She mumbles. “Plus, maybe they’ll tell you some stuff we can use in our articles.”
“Tell me?” You question her, toothpaste spilling out of your mouth and onto your pajamas. “You’re going with me!”
“Uh, no. I’m not.” Elle shrugs at your shocked expression, “I don’t need to be there, and frankly I shouldn’t be there. They asked to meet with you, they didn’t ask for me by name as well; and there’s some pretty, er, intimate things they might want to ask you.”
“What?!” You choke, the toothbrush falling from between your lips and into the sink.
“I don’t mean it like that,” she laughs. “Although that’d make for an interesting read.” She jokes, “I mean, they might want to get to know you personally. Me being there would make things incredibly awkward.”
“Can’t you at least wait for me close by? You could be my savior if I need to get out of there quickly…” You explain, spitting your toothpaste into the sink and rinsing your mouth.
She looks ready to protest, but you silence her by placing your hand over her mouth. “I brought you on this trip with me, Elle. Not as a coworker, but as a friend. It’d mean more to me than I could possibly begin to explain if you’d be on standby for me while I’m talking to them.”
She rolls her eyes at you, but nods her head in agreement. “You owe me, big time.” She scoffs, “Now take a shower, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
The woman is true to her word. Once you’re out of the shower, smelling fresh, and dressed decently enough (a cream colored sweater and a new pair of jeans you bought before the trip), she places a massive plate of waffles in front of you.
“Eat.” She orders, sitting next to you at the kitchen bar, and digging into her own plate.
“I’m nervous,” you explain, poking at your food, but taking a large bite when she eyes you.
“I don’t blame you at all. Just try not to hyperfocus. Their wanting to meet with you and helping us avoid trouble yesterday speaks volumes. They more than likely just want to talk. Nothing extreme.”
You nod at her reasoning, thankful that she’s there to at least try and keep you level-headed.
“I’ll be just a few blocks down,” Elle tells you, the Big Hit driver, Shei, had put up the partition in the SUV, allowing the two of you what little privacy you could have.
“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly, meeting her friendly gaze.
“You’ll be fine,” she reassures you, “they’re really nice guys from what I saw last night.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I feel so stupid.” You groan, curling in on yourself in embarrassment.
“So you don’t want to hear about how worried they were when you split?” She asks you. You peek through the sleeve of your hoodie, interest rising. “Ah, looks like I’ll have to explain later.” She smiles, “We’re here.”
You drift your gaze out the window, noting the bodyguards and Big Hit employees trying to blend in with the outside world. The restaurant, as previously discussed, has clearly been rented out. Upon seeing the SUV, one of the Big Hit employees, a woman you haven’t met, sends a signal to Shei. He seems to understand immediately and turns into a nearby alleyway. It takes you a moment to realize that you’d be entering through the back of the eatery.
“I feel like a sack of drug paraphernalia.” You mope, getting unbuckled and ready to squirm your way out of your seat. You turn to Elle, nerves bubbling. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done here.” You tell her, meaning every word.
“Sure, sure. Just get in there before a fan sees you and bombards you.” She laughs, nudging you out of the door that Shei has opened for you.
“Thanks,” you mumble to him, allowing another employee to lead you through the back door. The restaurant itself smells absolutely amazing, you couldn’t even begin to fathom how amazing the food would taste once it touches your taste buds. A few kitchen workers bow to you, and you return the kind gesture, feeling extremely out of place in the pristine kitchen.
Soon enough, tile floors turn to wooden panels, and you look up to meet some of the eyes you’d run from the night before. Namjoon’s gaze is gentle on you, Jin’s is approving, taking in your figure as you stand before him. Taehyung and Jungkook are too busy playing some sort of napkin game they’ve created to acknowledge your entrance. Hoseok waves enthusiastically, a massive grin split across his bright face.
Jimin, beautiful as ever, smiles his eye-crinkling smile that has your stomach doing cartwheels within the confines of your body. Yoongi’s eyes are serious on yours, hands fidgeting atop the table they sit at; his hair is hidden beneath a beanie that makes him look more boyish than he did yesterday.
“Er- hi.” You say awkwardly, waving slightly at the men once you stand in front of their table.
“Ah!” Jungkook jumps, dropping the napkin-ball once your voice hits his ears.
“Ha!” Taehyung whoops, jumping in his seat excitedly, “you lost, Kookie!”
“Can’t you two be normal for once?” Jin asks, shaking his head disapprovingly, but affectionately, at the two youngest members.
“That’s a ridiculous request, hyung.” Jimin smiles, nudging Jungkook lightly. “Besides, weren’t you playing table football with Kookie and V last week?”
Jin blushes a rosy red, clearly embarrassed he’d been outed.
“It’s okay,” you rush to reassure him, not quite understanding your sudden need to alleviate his discomfort, “I still play Nintendogs on my DS.”
Jin raises his eyebrows at you, along with most of the members, save for Yoongi, who still looks at you with a nervous expression.
“Isn’t that the game where you can have a Shiba?” Taehyung smiles, “I’ve always wanted one.”
“That’s the one,” you reply, feeling your own embarrassment flare up as the ridiculously attractive men all keep their gazes on you.
“My friends in school would play those games all of the time,” Jimin smiles, pulling a chair at the head of the table out for you before returning to his seat. “Do you like to play games, Y/N?” He smiles a toothy smile, and if you weren’t a reporter whose life consisted of reading subliminal messages, you wouldn’t have caught the sensual innuendo beyond the question.
“Jimin-ah, let’s not talk about games right now,” Yoongi speaks up, flickering his impassive glance from you, to Jimin, to you again.
“Yoongi is right,” Namjoon nods. “We were worried last night that you wouldn’t show up.” He explains as you take your seat, keeping your hands in your lap so you don’t fidget too much or too obviously. “Some of us were worried we’d scared you off before we’d even had the chance to properly introduce ourselves. It’s safe to say we’re relieved you’re here.”
You smile, somewhat consoled, knowing that they’d been nervous, too.
“Is there anything you’d like to eat?” Jin asks, “We’ve ordered 8 servings of rice and vegetable stir-fry already. The chef said it’d be a half hour or so.”
“Rice and stir-fry sounds great,” you answer him, “could I get a cup of water?” You ask, your throat feeling dry from your ebbing nerves.
Jin nods his head and goes to retrieve a pitcher of water and some glasses from the kitchen. He pours your drink gingerly, long fingers holding the pitcher with exceptional care.
“From your exit during the interview, we’re assuming you know why we invited you?” Namjoon asks, eyes kindly analyzing your posture.
“I, uh- yeah. I assume it’s about this…” You lift your left hand atop the table and push back the cream-colored fabric, revealing the numbers and letters that haunted you your entire life.
Two of the three maknaes smile once they eye the black ink on your wrist. Taehyung and Jimin looked to be far more comfortable in the situation than Jungkook, who still resembled a deer caught in the headlights.
Hoseok makes a noise similar to a pelican, rounding the table and showing you his wrist. The letters and numbers are all the same as yours, save for one. Where you had his initials and birthdate, he had yours.
“Show her,” Hoseok chastises his team, waiting for them all to mimic his actions.
They do. You’re shocked as you realize with finality that you had 7 soulmates, and so did they.
Whereas most people had another half, or third, and rarely a fourth, of their soul waiting for them inside someone else, you and the seven men in front of you had each other.
“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting you,” Taehyung smiles, hugging you to him.
“Taehyung-ah, give her a minute.” Jin orders.
You’re thankful he does. You weren’t disappointed in the men huddled around your dining chair, far from it, in fact. You did, however, feel the room closing in on you.
“I just need a second…” You explain, rising to your feet, “Excuse me.” You bow to them, excusing yourself to the bathroom.
Hardly recognizing the pale woman who stares back at you in the mirror, you douse your face with cold water from the sink, appreciating the relief it provides your heated and muted skin. You give yourself a while, not wanting to overexert your emotions and head back into the room quite yet.
The air is cooler in the bathroom, anyway, and easier for you to breathe. You pull your phone from your back pocket, ready to text Elle and ask her to pick you up, but you glance at yourself in the mirror again, seeing the way that color is returning to your face and your breathing has regulated itself. You could do this.
Shoving your phone back in the confines of your jeans, you push the bathroom door open. The boys wait for you at the table, all of them quiet and anticipating your return. Taehyung catches your eye, his expression regretful and dejected.
“I’m sorry I hugged you like that,” he tells you, voice radiating his honesty like a heater, “I just got so excited to finally know that you were real.” He explains, “The thought of you being uncomfortable didn’t occur to me. I’m so used to having the hyungs around, and being able to express everything that I forgot you didn’t have any of us to express yourself to growing up.”
“It’s okay, Taehyung,” you tell him, meaning the words from the bottom of your heart. “I just get very anxious when new things blindside me.”
He smiles at your acceptance of his apology, boxy features warming your heart.
“So, how long have you all known about this?” You ask, pointing to your wrist.
“Since we banded together,” Namjoon answers. “It’s actually one of the main reasons we decided to debut.” He shrugs, “When I met Yoongi-hyung at a BigHit meeting and he saw my wrist, it was like I wasn’t alone anymore.”
Yoongi smiles a gummy smile, looking at Namjoon. “I felt the same way,” he agrees, “growing up was difficult. I was ashamed of my marks and hid them. I thought they meant I’d never have a successful relationship. But when I saw Joon at the meeting, and he had his sleeves rolled up without a care to give… I just saw my initials and the rest we share, and I didn’t feel empty anymore. There was someone I could connect to.”
“And then Hoseok showed up, loud and energetic,” Namjoon laughs. The man in question smiles, blush creeping its way onto his face. “We were both shocked,” he signals to Yoongi. “The chances of us meeting each other were slim enough, but a third showing up? It was crazy.”
“You guys would have been lost without me,” Hoseok groans, “you’re both so messy.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Namjoon laughs. “Once Jin signed on, we kind of just let the rest play out. Figured that if luck stayed on our side, we wouldn’t need to look for ourselves.” Namjoon explains. “It was pretty smooth sailing for a while. Jungkook signed on, and then V. Jimin was last.” Jimin smiles at the mention of his name. “We only had one more person to wait for.”
“After ‘Wings’ was released, we kind of lost hope,” Jin adds. “We thought maybe you weren’t real. We’d met people with your initials, but when we asked when their birthdays were, we got nothing.”
You nod your head, “I grew up in Washington, went to college in California, and then moved to New York for work.” You tell them, grateful that they provide you with their undivided attention. “You know where I work, so there’s no need to explain that. There’s actually not much to explain, really. I move around a lot for reporting gigs, so I don’t have time for friends and stuff.”
They look saddened by that, and your heart pangs in response. “It’s okay,” you reassure, “my life has been full of amazing experiences and opportunities because of my work.”
“It sounds like it’s held you back, too…” Jungkook says, voice heavy with concern.
“Only socially.” You reply, “I have a decent home and enough money to keep me going.”
“Have you dated?” Jimin asks.
“Jimin-ah!” Jin scolds him, flicking his forehead.
“It’s okay!” You tell him, “It’s a fair question. I haven’t seriously dated anyone. I’ve casually dated, though.” You explain. “Once it turns towards serious conversations and ‘what are we’s,’ I book it.”
Jimin thinks over your answer, enamored by the casual way you gave it.
“If we had known, we would have reached out,” Namjoon confesses, turning the conversation back towards the elephant in the room.
“If anything, I’m to blame,” you laugh. “You guys are globally famous, your names are everywhere, so are your birth dates. If I had paid more attention, we might have met sooner…” You trail off.
“Don’t blame yourself!” Hoseok consoles you, eyes unwavering as they convey his sincerity to you. “We’re meeting each other now, and that’s good enough for us.”
You smile at his reassurance, appreciating how wholesome and bright he truly is with finality.
“Thank you, Hoseok.” You tell him gently.
He nearly transforms into the heart-eye emoji at you saying his name, his features softening immensely and leaving a dopey grin on his face. Jimin pats Hoseok’s shoulder, shining his crinkly-eyed smile at the older man.
“How are you feeling about all of this?” Yoongi asks, big brown eyes looking at yours with concern, the first discernible emotion you’ve seen on him since entering the room. It nearly knocks the wind out of you. The softness of his face mixed with the molten emotion beyond his eyes renders you wordless.
“Erm-” you gape. “I, uh- I’m definitely still shocked, but I feel more at ease now,” you manage to push the words out of your mouth. “It’s way more comforting knowing that I’m not just a glitch in the system.”
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“I always thought that I was meant to be alone,” you shrug.
“But you have the mark,” he cocks his head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen someone with my extent of it.” You explain, “typically people have one or two initials and birth dates on their wrist. I have seven. I figured that maybe I was just a reject.”
He looks saddened by your explanation, “Well, you’re not.”
“Yeah, Y/N! You’re not alone.” Jimin smiles.
“You have us,” Taehyung adds, putting an arm around Jimin and Jungkook each.
“I also live in America,” you remind them, sipping at the water Jin had poured you earlier. “I can’t just leave my job and my home to come to Korea.”
“Would you ever be open to the idea?” Namjoon asks.
You sit on the question for a minute, deliberating in your mind the pros and cons. The cons were intimidating. You would have to leave the job you worked so hard for, you’d leave behind your family, you’d leave behind Elle, and you’d be starting all over on a new continent. The pros, however… You could rebuild, make a new family because you weren’t around your biological family much anyway, you could still visit Elle and FaceTime her every day…
But you were getting ahead of yourself.
“I might consider it some day,” you answer Namjoon, noting the relief that fills every single member’s eyes. “But that’d be down the road a ways,” you add, “it’s not something I could just do at the drop of a hat.”
The men nod, understanding and appreciating your answer. You don’t bother asking them the same, you know their love for their country and the people in it. It was visceral, unwavering, and stronger than any fan-artist connection you’d seen, ever. It’d be selfish to ask them to leave their livelihoods. They could still make music in America, but the emotions behind the music? The reason for making it? The heart of BTS would always remain in Korea.
“We have another question to ask,” Jimin speaks up. You look at him and nod, giving him the go-ahead. “Well, you see, we were wondering if any of the initials on your wrist look different to you? Like maybe one seems thicker or darker?” He asks.
You furrow your brows, confused, but raise your left sleeve again and really look at the bold lettering. The food arrives as you examine your wrist, the waiter delicately placing your meal on the table in front of you.
Sure enough, a lettered pairing does stick out from the rest. You’re at a complete loss as to why you hadn’t noticed it before. You’d spent hours upon hours of your life glaring at the ink. How were you only just realizing the imperfection permanently etched atop your skin now that Jimin mentioned it?
“Yeah…” You breathe out, looking at Jimin's waiting gaze. “I’ve never noticed it before.”
“It’s pretty microscopic,” Namjoon explains. “It’s only really noticeable once someone addresses it.”
“That’s strange…” You murmur, looking back at your wrist. The letters only seem to have grown bolder, nearly looking italicised now that more time has passed. “It looks more bold now…” You explain, meeting the eyes of the man the bulkier text belongs to.
He looks back at you, eyes softening as they look into yours.
“Are mine thicker for you?” You ask him.
“They are.” He replies.
“What does it mean?” You ask Namjoon.
“Well, we hunted down a woman in Daegu, she calls herself a ‘reader.’ She was pretty difficult to find, but Big Hit helped us. She specializes in the marks, has books upon books on them. She told us that there have only been a handful of cases like ours,” he tells you, “and that the bold initials are present every time. She said that the bold initials signify the strongest bond within the soulmates. For me, my strongest bond is with Hoseok.” He looks to the cheery man beside him. “As his is mine.”
“What does that mean for you and the others?” You ask him, taking a bite of your stir-fry.
“We’re all still soulmates,” he answers. “Nothing will ever change that. Hoseok and I just connected on a deeper level. It doesn’t mean we’re more intimate with each other, it doesn’t even mean we love each other more than we love any of you,” he motions towards everyone at the table. “It just means we’re closest with each other on a spiritual level. He’s like my twin flame. I think that’s what Americans call it sometimes.”
You’re not unfamiliar with the terminology, but you never considered it true. You thought it was just an excuse for people to seek other relationships when they had a soulmate, or an excuse for some soulmates to be excessively smitten with each other.
“Do you all have twin flames?” You ask the remaining members. They all nod.
“Mine is Kookie,” Tae smiles.
“And mine is V,” Jungkook replies.
“Mine is Jimin,” Jin tells you. Jimin nods, “and mine is Jin,” he adds.
“And you’re mine,” Yoongi tells you, eyes still soft and warm on yours. You flush under his direct gaze, turning into a melting pot of emotions.
“How long have my initials been bold?” You ask him, voice wavering from the force of emotion that’s threatening to crack you open.
“Since our debut,” he replies, taking a drink of his water. Full lips pressing against the fogged glass of the cup sinfully. He takes your ogling as a mere loss for words, “you’re here now, though. That’s all that matters.”
You snap out of your reverie and realize that had you not been smitten by the way he drank his water, you most definitely would have been apologizing for taking so long to show up.
“Even so, I’m still sorry for taking years to find you guys.” You tell them all, tearing your gaze from Yoongi’s soul-stirring one to address the rest of the members, your soulmates. “I do have a question, and I don’t want it to come off as rude.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” Namjoon reassures you.
“Well, I was just wondering why you guys hide your marks? Elle said you guys cover them for interviews and public outings.”
“We do,” he answers, “we didn’t want to go public with anything unless we had to, at least, not until you were here. We didn’t want to make any decisions unless we all had a say in them, especially given our careers.”
You nod thoughtfully, appreciating his answer and the meaning behind it.
“That’s thoughtful of you all,” you say, smiling as you look to each of them. “Thank you.”
They smile back.
“If you guys want to go public with it, I’m fine with that. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You explain.
“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, eyes and voice full of concern.
“We could cover your initials for now,” Jin suggests, “you are the youngest of us, so it wouldn’t be a hassle. And we could uncover it once everything’s more secure? For instance, if you move here?”
You run over the option in your head, seeing no direct harm that could come from doing so.
“That might be a better option,” you agree, “would that make you uncomfortable, Yoongi?” You ask him, concerned that it might cause your twin flame even an ounce of discomfort.
“No,” he answers, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he means it. “As long as you’re safe and happy, we’re fine with doing whatever we need to.”
You melt at his words, finding immense comfort in them. It’d only been an hour of you being with them, and you’re already feeling an immense relief. Was this what it felt like to be around your soulmates? Was this what you’d been missing out on?
You couldn’t even begin to fathom the difficulty Elle and Cam had when they were around each other. BTS had been in your company for not even a day, and you could already feel a gravitational pull towards them, anchoring you to them in a way that left you feeling complete.
“Thank you,” you tell Yoongi, grinning at the flush that spreads across his full cheeks at your praise. “Thank you, all.” You tell the rest of them, your appreciation seeping through your very pores. “I can’t begin to express to you how much it means to me knowing you all support me so much already.”
They smile at you, taken by your words. You can feel the mood in the room lift substantially, and you thank the heavens above for allowing this brunch to go so much better than originally planned.
The rest of the food is devoured quickly by the eight of you, and it feels like all of 10 minutes have passed before the food is gone, and Elle is calling you nonstop. You reluctantly tell them you have to go, heart aching at the drop in their expressions at your announcement. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow! At the show!” You tell them, texting Elle to have Shei come get you. Their expressions brighten slightly, but you can still see that they don’t want you to go.
“How about this? I’ll give you guys my personal number, and we can start a group chat. Plan some hangouts and see where that takes us?”
They nod enthusiastically, pulling their phones out and quickly inputting your information into their contact lists. You can feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket at least 10 times as you say your goodbyes and thanks.
You bow to them, following the waiter out of the restaurant through the kitchen and into the back alleyway. Elle and Shei are waiting in the SUV, and Elle pounces on you as soon as you step foot into the large vehicle.
“You are telling me everything when we get back to the hotel.” She orders, you’re about to object, but she covers your mouth with her hand, “Nope. That’s my payment for not getting a single update from you in two and a half hours.”
You roll your eyes and mumble a ‘whatever,’ but her hand blocks out any sense you might have made. She laughs at you, finally pulling her hand away.
“Did you have a good time at least?” She asks.
“It actually went really well.” You answer, blush rising. You turn towards your window, watching the scenery pass by, when you receive another text.
You pull out your phone, unlocking the screen and entering your texting app.
8 unread conversations greet your eyes. 7 singular text chains, and one group text.
The first text you’d received in the restaurant is a simple ‘hi’ that’s signed ‘Jungkook.’
The next is longer.
‘Hello, jagiya! It’s Taehyung!’ A purple heart sits at the end of the sentence.
‘Worldwide Handsome here, checking in on his beautiful soulmate. Xxx Jin’ The next reads.
‘Y/Nie! It’s Hoseok! Text us when you get to your hotel safely! We had fun today :)’
‘Hello, Jagi!!!! Jimin here ;) We miss u already xxx’
‘Hi, Y/N. It’s Namjoon. Make sure to save our numbers so you don’t think we’re strangers texting you all the time. I’ll set up a group chat after I send this. :-)’
‘Hey, it’s Yoongi. Your twin flame.’ You smile at that, noting that he’s sent another since then. ‘You obviously know that, please disregard that message… oh, and check the group chat.’
You do as you’re told, and smile at your phone. There are introductions, but what sticks out most to you is the picture of you and Yoongi gazing at each other at the table. Judging by the angle, Jungkook or Taehyung must have taken it. It’s flattering and captures the ambience of the early afternoon.
You hug your phone to your chest, emotion flowing through you hotly. You reply to the texts and follow Namjoon’s advice and save their numbers. The group chat goes crazy after you reply, Taehyung and Jin spamming it with animated gifs, and Jimin sending a few selfies.
You don’t miss the pointed glance Elle sends your way as she watches your face dance with happy emotions during the car ride home.
Typically, you’d snap at her in embarrassment, but the happiness and complete full-feeling you’re experiencing now prevent you from feeling anything short of euphoric.
