Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Yoongi believes that if everyone just minded their own business, the world would get along fine. World peace, no more war, no more global warming – all of it cured if people just stay in their own lane.

Cynical, maybe, but when is he not? He’s interfered in things before and it’s never ended well. Better to just keep the hell away.

So when Yoongi’s walking to the store and sees the woman crouched over, clutching her head and muttering to herself, he ignores it. He doesn’t look twice at her. He doesn’t pay any attention to the demon fighting for possession, its form twisting and flickering over her face.

Unless he’s getting paid, it’s very much Not His Business.

He goes into the store, loads up on enough cereal and ramen to get him through the next few weeks, and pays. He pauses for a moment outside to light up, and that’s when he sees her again.

She’s wearing a thin, pale pink sundress, but she’s wasted away beneath it. Her hair is in clumps, bald in places, and her fingers are digging into her arms hard enough to bleed. Pieces of hair are still caught between her fingers.

He doesn’t know anything about who she was or what she did before a demon took a liking to her, but she’s strong to still be battling the possession. Perseverant. Yoongi can admire that.

Cigarette in mouth, he goes to step past. Not his business.

Stops. Sighs.

“Hey,” he says, “You.”

The woman twitches, keens. The demon’s face, overlaid like a shadow over her own, rises a moment before hers does. They morph into one and her snarl twists into a smile. Gas leaks out of her eyes.

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty one,” she says. Her accent is strange, choppy in places. “Come a little closer.”

Yoongi grunts and crouches down. The cigarette gets stubbed out on the ground, but he slides it back in the packet for later. He’s not made of money, okay?

Feeling around in his pocket, he finds his switchblade. A gift. The engravings down the side of it are as familiar as breathing.

He flicks it open and spins it instinctively. Brings it down across his palm. The cut burns like thousands of icy needles drilling into his skin as it tries to close up, but he keeps the blade pressed tight until enough blood pools in his palm.

“What are you doing?” The woman’s voice is suddenly sharper. She cranes forward, but her body is still rebelling so she just ends up rocking in place.

Yoongi dips a finger into the blood and sketches a quick circle.

“You should know better,” he says as he works. “Possessing someone in broad daylight? Where anyone can walk by? Dumb move.”

“No—”

“Feel free to jump in and correct me if I’m wrong, now, okay?” He continues drawing the glyphs on the dirty pavement. “From the looks of the woman you’re trying to take a joyride in, you’re from the Second Circle. You lust demons are always the same. I’m gonna take a shot in the dark here and say you’re a son of Ziminiar too, eh? And none too intelligent, so no higher than an earl.”

“Who are you?”

Yoongi adds the final lead glyph to the seal and sighs again.

“You really did choose the wrong store to hang out in front of. Have a nice trip back to hell, Sonek.”

“No—”

The demon lunges out of the body towards him, all twisting smoke and fangs. Yoongi places his bloody hand on the glyph. He can feel his blood being suctioned out. It activates in a flare of fire. The demon shrieks. Yoongi can see it clawing at the body, but another force is dragging it towards the seal. With a noise not unlike all the air being sucked out, the demon’s sucked into the seal and the screams stop.

The seal burns hot, then falls to ash. The woman collapses to the ground. It’s all over in under a minute.

Other exorcists have to work harder at banishing demons. Candles, circles of power, chanting while holding hands, sigil rings – the full works. But Yoongi’s different. Bloodmagic is dangerous because of how much blood is required. That’s not a problem for Yoongi. Sacrificing someone you love for power will do that, unintentional or not.

Yoongi leans over and pokes at her cheek.

“Hey. You,” he says. She looks like she’s breathing. There’s a chance she’s a vegetable, but if she had the power to try and fight the demon off, she’ll probably be okay.

She flinches, curling in on herself. Her eyes flutter open. They’re dazed now, without that laser-focused, hungry look demons have.

“Wha…?”

“You should probably get to the hospital. And eat something.”

She blinks at him. Yoongi feels awkward. He hates this part. Give him a demon any day. Talking to a human? No, thank you.

He looks down at the groceries next to him.

“Here.” He shoves one of his ramen packets at her. “Eat up.”

“What?” She’s blinking more now, coming back to herself. She’ll be fine. Probably.

He stands up and relights his cigarette.

“Take care of yourself, etcetera, don’t go getting possessed again,” he says. “Uh. Bye.”

“W-Wait! What happened—”

Her voice fades as Yoongi melts into the crowd. No one looks twice at him or at the woman still recovering on the ground. Granted, they’re all blind and wouldn’t have noticed the demon anyway. But even if they could, Yoongi had his doubts they’d really care.

That’s the true beauty of New York City.

He breathes in deep, the air filled with the smell of trash rotting behind the bad Chinese takeout joint and the faint odour of piss, and smiles. He really does love this city. Not giving a shit is part of every New Yorker’s DNA.

“Min Yoongi.”

Except for one person, apparently.

To his right, standing in the alley with the aforementioned rotting trash, is Chaeseon. Fitting, to be honest. He sometimes wonders if she exists in a vacuum when she’s not bothering him – she always looks the same. The same permed hairstyle, the same three strings of pearls, the same rubber shoes. She looks like any other ajumma you might pass in Koreatown, except for her beady, all-seeing eyes.

“They let you out of the retirement home?” Yoongi steps out of the way of the other pedestrians. He ends up facing Chaeseon at the mouth of the alley.

“Your sense of humour is marvellous, boy,” Chaeseon says. “Perhaps you can give an old woman like me some pointers.”

“I get my entertainment where I can.” Yoongi takes a deep drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke into her face.

Yoongi doesn’t get the reaction he was after. She just smiles.

“I saw you send that demon back to hell,” she says. “How much did she pay you?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes.

“Are you trying to get me to admit I have a heart again? Some loving warmth buried deep down? I thought you’d given that up.”

“You even gave her some of your food. You’d better watch it, Min Yoongi, or your reputation will go down the drain.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“My name like that, you annoying old woman.”

She leans over and pats him on the cheek. Yoongi has to fight not to pull away.

“It’s a nice name. I like it. And Min is a very powerful line.”

“Mention my parents and I’m leaving.”

Chaeseon looks at him, head tilting to the side. One hand fiddles with the pearls and Yoongi tries not to side-eye them too much. He knows they’ve got some kind of power attached to them, but he hasn’t been able to figure out what. He’s done a lot of things in his shitty time on earth, but trying to steal Chaeseon’s pearls won’t ever be one of them. That’d take a hell of a lot more bravery than anyone has a right to have. The woman is a shrew.

No one quite knows what Chaeseon is. Or if they do, they’re not sharing it with Yoongi. Some part of her is human, he’s sure of it, but he hasn’t managed to work out the rest. She never seems to age – just always randomly appearing, wearing the same pair of rubber shoes.

“A few months ago, there wouldn’t be someone possessed at the corner of a 7-Eleven like that.”

“I’m sure I’ve passed a few in my time.”

“You’re not an idiot, boy, so don’t act like one. You’ve noticed demonic activity has been on the rise lately. You used to have one or two possessions a month. Now you’re getting one a week, at least.”

Yoongi grunts. “It comes in waves. It’s not unusual. Your old age is getting to you.”

“There’s something in the air as well. Someone’s summoning a lot of dark energy in this city.”

“Are you finished? This is the same speech the fake psychic two blocks away gives to the tourists.”

“There’s something coming.”

“There’s always something coming. I’d be out of a job, otherwise.”

“This time it’s big. You’re not the type to listen to anyone else, but you’ll take in my words. They’ll stick in the back of your mind. And when I’m proven right, which I will be, I’ll accept your help.”

“You know my fee.”

Chaeseon sighs, but she’s smiling. “And we’re back at square one. It’s almost like my conversations with you follow a script.”

“Feel free to just email it to me next time.”

“I would, but we all know you’re worse with technology than I am. And that’s saying something.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Any grandchildren trying to herd you back to the nursing home?” Yoongi says with a scowl.

“Ah, you’ve reminded me. What I really wanted to talk to you about.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t the premonition bullshit?” Yoongi takes a frustrated drag of his cigarette. The smoke settles in his lungs like a lost friend.

“My grandson. He needs your help.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to hire me?”

“He’s being followed. He refused to sell an item to someone last week and he’s been followed ever since.”

“That sounds like work for a PI. This is New York, you can find one on every block.”

“A PI? For my grandson?”

“Why don’t you figure it out?”

“Because I’m needed at the nursing home,” she says dryly. “And this isn’t my speciality.”

“Find someone else,” Yoongi says, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. “I’m not interested.”

Chaeseon may be one of the friendlier faces in his world – relative to everyone else. She’s never tried to throw him into hell, which is a more common occurrence than Yoongi thought warranted. He doesn’t like her, but he doesn’t like anyone. He tolerates her.

But separate to all that, he just doesn’t trust her. And he certainly doesn’t trust whatever scheme she’s trying to pull him into now.

“I can pay you in a favour.” One of her eyebrows cocks up. “That’s worth a lot more than you’d get for any other job.”

“A favour from you, in exchange for proving your grandson’s paranoid? If you want to try and trick me into something, make it a little more believable.”

“He’s my grandson. I want the best.”

“Then you can find that elsewhere. Get one of those bleeding hearts at that school of yours to help him out.”

“He could be in danger,” Chaeseon says, an edge to her voice.

Yoongi sighs as he lights another cigarette. He takes a drag before replying, closing his eyes to savour it.

“Honestly,” he says, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Not my grandson, not my problem. Feel free to not seek me out again.”

Yoongi’s already turned away when she calls out after him.

“You’re not the monster everyone says you are, no matter what you think. You’re a good man, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s fingers clench tight around his cigarette. He doesn’t respond.

---

Yoongi’s blissfully asleep when the pounding at his door wakes him.

“Fuck off,” he croaks into his pillow.

It continues. Muttering to himself, he rolls out of bed, stumbles onto the floor and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. His apartment is a shithole, so it only takes a few steps to reach his door and throw it open.

“What?” he snaps.

A young couple stand outside his door, clutching each other and staring at him wide-eyed. The woman’s eyes are bloodshot, hair a mess. She’s the one that speaks first.

“Mr Min? You’re him? The, ah, exorcist?”

“How the fuck did you find me? And how did you get in.” Yoongi grumbles. His voice is rough with sleep, rasping. He doesn’t do well with being woken up, surprise surprise.

“Um, your apprentice? He said he was your apprentice? He gave us this card. And the door downstairs was propped open.”

She hands it over. It’s a plain white business card, the edges worried at. Written in dramatic letters on the front:

Min Yoongi

Exorcist, monster hunter, master of the dark arts

Problem of the spooky variety? Here to help.

Price varies. Please inquire.

And then his phone number and home address. Yoongi stares at it for a moment before crushing it in his fist and turning around.

“Excuse me? Mr Min? Does this mean we can come in?”

Yoongi ignores them. He can’t remember the last time he saw his phone, but it can’t have gone far. His apartment isn’t that big, either.

He finds it, eventually, in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans. The screen is filled with missed calls and text messages, and the little battery icon in the corner is an angry red.

He ignores all the rest and navigates his way to Jeongguk’s messages. There’s a whole bunch, but he doesn’t bother to read them.

Painstakingly, with one finger, he types.

“So will you help us?”

Yoongi blinks and looks up. The couple are standing just inside the doorway. The woman is staring at him earnestly, but the man is eyeing the stack of pizza boxes in the corner. They’re leaning precariously, but perfectly balanced. Yoongi doesn’t want to brag, but he’s something of a Jenga master in his spare time. The demon in the apartment next to his is the only one who’ll play Pizza Jenga with him. Jeongguk gave up years ago.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi says after a long moment.

“With the, ah, ghost? In our dishwasher? I can start from the beginning again, if you want?”

“No, I heard it the first time,” Yoongi lies. He hadn’t even realised they’d been talking. “Ghost. In dishwasher. Gotcha.”

His phone vibrates and a series of messages pop up on the screen.

Jeongguk

😂😂😂

You’re welcome!

You said rent was due next week, didn’t you? Gotta get that bread somehow $$$

Rent was indeed due next week. And from memory, he only had maybe a few hundred in the bank. The bank being the money shoved into the rip in his mattress.

“I’ll do it,” Yoongi says. He looks up and realises the woman has her mouth open, caught mid-speech. It closes with a snap.

“You will? Really? We’re desperate.”

Yoongi snorts. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.” You’d have to be desperate to last this long in Yoongi’s shithole apartment, Pizza Jenga or not. “You can pay?”

“Yes! Yes, we can. Pay, that is.”

“Where is this ghost?”

“In the dishwash—”

“No, where do you live?”

“Oh. Hoboken.”

Yoongi’s lip curls. “You can also pay for the cab there.”

---

The couple wasn’t lying or idiotic. There really was a ghost haunting their dishwasher.

“Let’s settle the payment upfront, though. My usual rate is $1,000 for something like this.”

The woman opens her mouth and closes it again, like a goldfish. The man looks shifty. It could also have something to do with their location – they’re in the foyer of a quaint brownstone, trying to avoid the seeping blood pouring out of the dishwasher in the other room.

“Ah, well, the thing is—”

“Nope,” Yoongi says, spinning and heading to the door. The painting above the mantelpiece shakes, but doesn’t drop. “No payment, no help. You caught me on the wrong day if you were after charity.”

“No, we can pay!” the man yells, splashing through the blood after him. “Just not in cash. Elleanor has a collection of jewellery and precious stones from her grandmother. They’re worth a lot of money. At least let us show you!”

Yoongi sighs, but turns around. Him and his bleeding heart, right? Chaeseon would be proud.

“Where are these supposed jewels? And who’s Elleanor?”

The woman, who is reminding him more and more of a scared hamster, raises her hand. “Ah, me?”

Upstairs, all the doors slam shut in quick succession. Bang bang bang bang bang.

“They’re in here,” the man says, kicking at an antique cabinet. “But it’s not opening!”

Yoongi grimaces as he steps back into the expanding pool of blood and walks across the room to the cabinets. He pulls a flask out of his pocket and sprays a bit of the liquid on the cabinet. He tries the drawer.

It doesn’t budge. The whole cabinet rumbles.

“What? What was that?” The man hovers next to him, peering anxiously over his shoulder.

Yoongi sniffs the open flask.

Oh.

“Oops,” he says. “Wrong one.”

He takes a swig anyway before putting it back. The cabinet vibrates even more violently, so much so that it’s rocking in place.

“Settle down, you little shit,” Yoongi mutters, rooting around in his pockets for the right flask. “You might be able to stay here. I haven’t made a decision yet.”

When he sprays his flask on the cabinet this time, the vibrating abruptly stops. Steam rises faintly.

“Holy water,” Yoongi says, reaching down and wrenching the drawer open. “Works a charm.”

The man reaches around him and fishes beneath the random pieces of paper and folders to pull out an antique jewellery box. It’s inlaid with brass patterns and has tiny, useless handles on either side.

“Here, take a look. Whatever you want,” the man says.

“Please! Look quickly!”

Yoongi opens it and a tiny ballerina pops up, beginning to spin around. He peers closely at her.

“Interesting…”

The lights start flickering on and off. Yoongi grumbles and walks over to the curtain, wrenching it open and letting the natural light in.

The box is filled with several necklaces and rings and hairclips, all with shiny stones and looking like they’d been made centuries ago. He holds a few of the stones up to the light, squinting.

“This one’s fake,” he says, tossing a necklace onto the top of the cabinet. “This one’s fine, not what I’m after though, this one’s fake, can’t see any use in this…”

“What! This stuff is priceless! It’s antique!”

Yoongi holds a few more up to the light, grumbling to himself. Eventually, all the supposed treasures are outside the box and scattered on the top of the cabinet. Even though it’s stopped shaking, the same can’t be said of the bookshelf next to it.

This, case in point, is the problem with too much furniture. What kind of person younger than fifty collects antique furniture? Yoongi will take their money, but he won’t be trusting them.

“I’ll take the box itself,” he says, peering closer at the ballerina once again. It shimmers in the light, face shifting. It winks at him. “And also this ring.”

The ring is a last-minute decision. The rock in it is green, but definitely not an emerald or any stone of real value. Cut glass, most like. But there’s a scent to it, an inherent hunch that makes him pause over it. Like a sudden wave of goosebumps over his body. He doesn’t know what the hell it is, but he’s not passing something like this by.

“Does this mean you’ll help us?” The woman’s voice is getting reedy, more desperate. Yoongi should probably feel worse about it than he does.

“Mmm,” Yoongi says, carefully placing the green ring inside the box. “Keep this safe for me.” He presses the jewellery box into the man’s hands. False ideals of masculinity aside, he seems the least likely to come rushing in haphazard and getting himself killed. The perfect safe spot for his payment.

“What? What does that mean? Is that a yes?”

The kitchen is a mess.

Yoongi has a strong belief that saucepans belong in a cupboard or drawer. Any person with their saucepans and frypans hanging up like trophies deserve to be haunted. As it is, the floor is littered with pans and pots and skillets, the contents of the cutlery drawer, and of course the blood.

The dishwasher does indeed look to be the source of it. Blood is still bubbling up from the corners of it, spilling out onto the ground.

“Hello, lovely,” Yoongi murmurs, stepping in close. The walls rumble. “You know the rules. Don’t be getting mad at me for something that’s not my fault. You break the rules, you get banished.”

He gets his switchblade out, flicks it around. Crouches down in front of the dishwasher. The whole house is vibrating now, blood trembling on the floor. The cupboard next to him spills open, plates tumbling out and cracking on the ground.

“Just try me,” he says. The blade screeches as it carves into the shiny metal of the dishwasher. He doesn’t need a circle of power for this, at least. A few glyphs will do him fine.

“And now.” He slices across his palm. “Begone, may the power of Christ compel you, etcetera.”

He can feel the poltergeist’s energy swarming through the house, beating down on him, but his wards are too tight. It can’t harm him.

He presses his bloody palm to the sketched glyph. Nothing happens for a moment, then his palm begins to steam. Like oil spreading across a fire, the blood evaporates in a wave. Yoongi’s palm is hot, itchy, and he can feel the blood being sucked from his own body. It’s an unpleasant feeling, but still not as bad as the one time he’d become a vampire’s snack. No, thank you.

The house falls deathly still, and the sudden silence pounds against Yoongi’s ears. The dishwasher under his palm is cold once more. The blood has disappeared from the ground, leaving just a dusty residue behind. No more shaking from the house, no more flickering lights, no more slamming doors.

Silence.

“Is it… is it gone?”

The couple are hovering at the kitchen entryway.

Yoongi holds up a finger and leans in closer. The vibration, like an inaudible humming, gets softer and softer until it’s gone entirely.

Yoongi stands up and exchanges his switchblade for a cigarette.

“You let this one sink in for a while, eh? Next time, call your friendly neighbourhood exorcist a little sooner. Less blood to clean.”

“We will! We will. Thank you, truly, from the bottom of our hearts.”

Their gratitude, the outpouring of so much visible emotion, makes Yoongi cringe.

“Look,” he says gruffly, grabbing his payment on the way to the door. “Poltergeists are attracted to stress. So maybe cool it a little? Or invest in some weed, at least.”

“We normally aren’t stressed, but this past month—”

“Not interested. You have my number. Use that instead of coming to my door.”

“But the nice boy with the eyes said you’d answer if we knock—”

Yoongi’s out the door and letting it slam behind him. He pauses on the sidewalk and takes a deep puff.

He pulls out his phone and messages Jeongguk.

Jeongguk

Omw 🚗

Jeongguk doesn’t take too long. Yoongi’s only halfway to the subway station when Jeongguk calls for directions. Directions he can do. Texting? Not interested.

Jeongguk pulls up in a shiny silver Prius, window down and waving frantically.

“Hey! Yoongi! Hey! Over here!”

“I can see you, shut up,” Yoongi grumbles, jogging over to the other side of the road and getting in. He wrinkles his nose immediately.

“What the hell is that smell?”

Jeongguk reaches over and taps the air freshener sitting on the vent.

“Greek seaside, I believe. I like it!”

“I would rather smell rotting chicken.” Yoongi powers down the window. The whole car is squeaky clean. “Who owns a Prius in New York, anyway?”

Jeongguk shrugs, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “No clue, it was just the closest car when you messaged me. I’ve always wanted to drive one. Makes me feel wholesome. Like I own a kale farm, or whatever.”

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act like you know what kale is, or that you’ve eaten a green vegetable in the past week.”

Jeongguk pulls a face, opens his mouth, then closes it. “Um. Wanna get skewers?”

“My boots are covered in blood residue.”

“It’s New York. No one cares.”

“True. But you’re paying this time. This job didn’t really pay much in the way of cash.”

“Oh what? I thought for sure that old lady would have some serious cash.”

“Old lady?” Yoongi repeats. He stares at Jeongguk. “This was a couple. How many people did you give that stupid fucking business card to, Jeongguk?”

The boy squirms in his seat. His wide eyes dart between Yoongi and the road.

“Um. Do you want an actual number? I don’t think I can give that to you. I printed out a pack of a hundred, though, and they’re almost gone?”

Yoongi reaches over and slaps him upside the back of the head. The car swerves.

“Ow!”

“There are a hundred business cards out there calling me a ‘master of the dark arts’?!”

“Less than a hundred! I have a few left! Quite a few, actually. And, well, you need to get jobs somehow!”

“I have a website!”

“You have a Craigslist ad some old boyfriend of yours helped set up.”

“Boyfriend’s a generous term.”

“Not the point! These cards will help you. You need the rent money and people need the help!”

Yoongi groans and sinks into his seat. “I’m glad you didn’t add any superhero bullshit to it. The one and only good thing to come of this.”

When they’re seated in the Chinese hole-in-the-wall, squished between other patrons and reeking of oil, Yoongi shows Jeongguk the ring. He frowns at it, spinning it in his hands.

“It feels warm,” Jeongguk says. “This stone’s definitely just glass, though.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“But there’s something else here. Is this all you got?”

“No, a jewellery box too. It’s a got a curse on it, pretty sure that’s a pixie being held inside.”

“Ooh, a pixie! Can I see? Are you gonna free her?”

“What’s the point.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth, probably to give him the same rant he’s heard a thousand times over, but the waitress comes over and dumps a plate of skewers on their table. One tumbles off and onto the table. The waitress doesn’t bat an eye.

The smell of cumin makes Yoongi’s mouth water.

“The ring. I’ll probably sell it after I find out what it is. The pixie might come in handy later.”

“You should ask Taehyung,” Jeongguk says, words muffled around a mouthful of lamb. Yoongi watches in fascination. If Jeongguk didn’t have such wide, cute eyes, the sight would be disgusting. Instead, it’s somehow cute. The brat. “He knows everything about weird magical objects. So smart.”

“Who?” Yoongi asks, still distracted by the horrifying sight in front of him.

“Taehyung. You know Taehyung. Owns that shop? House of Mystery? Taehyung’s House of Mystery?”

“That’s a fucking horrible name for a shop. Also doesn’t ring a bell.”

“But… everyone knows Taehyung!”

“Apparently,” Yoongi says dryly. He nibbles at his first skewer. Jeongguk’s on his fourth.

“Taehyung! I’ve definitely told you about him! Like, this high? With the eyebrows? Grey hair? Plants? And Korean, too.”

“We don’t all know each other.”

“But everyone knows Taehyung!”

Yoongi holds out his hand. “Ring. Give it over.”

As soon as Jeongguk drops it into his hand, Yoongi stands.

“Wait, no! You can’t go! Wait! I don’t have any money on me!”

Yoongi leans forward and sticks his finger in Jeongguk’s face. His eyes go cross-eyed to see it.

“No more fucking around with this Taehyung bullshit. Proper answers like a normal person.”

“Yes, Yoongi,” Jeongguk says. “Sure, Yoongi.”

“Disrespectful street rat,” Yoongi mumbles, settling back into his seat. The people on either side of him side-eye him, but Yoongi glares back.

“This Taehyung. Why should I go to him?”

Jeongguk shrugs and says around his mouthful of food, “I dunno, he’s nice. Used to help me out when I was hanging out in Chinatown. Near his shop. He’d buy me a meal or let me stay in the shop when it was snowing.”

“He let you stay in his shop? Alone? Multiple times?”

Pink floods his cheeks. “I never took anything, okay!”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“I never took anything much. He always knew. I can’t help it! Anyway, he’s smart and kind and knows his shit. His shop is filled with random magical objects he’s found and so many plants, and he’s good at researching too! He can help.”

“Mhmm.” Yoongi picks up another skewer. It’s the last one. Jeongguk’s side of the table is littered with metal skewers, but he’s still looking hungrily at the skewer Yoongi’s eating. “Don’t look at me like that. Order more if you’re still hungry. Or dumplings.”

Jeongguk orders both dumplings and more skewers and proceeds to eat pretty much all of it by himself.

Yoongi ends up paying in the end, because of course he does.

“Taehyung normally stays open pretty late, so we should be fine,” Jeongguk says as they leave the tiny restaurant, dodging angry waitstaff.

“Eh, I’ll just go tomorrow.” He’s had quite enough with being social. Banishing a poltergeist and trying to fill Jeongguk’s black hole of a stomach is enough action for one day.

“No, that’s what you always say to me. And then you never do it! We’re going now.” They walk past Jeongguk’s borrowed Prius. “Plus, I have the ring anyway.”

“What.” Yoongi feels his pockets. Jeongguk holds up the ring in front of him, pinched between thumb and forefinger. He waves it like he’s ringing a cowbell.

“We’re going to Taehyung’s. It’s not too far from here.”

They’re in Lower Manhattan, just off Canal Street, and Jeongguk leads them deeper into Chinatown. Everyone ignores them, except for a luduan seated out the front of a store. Its lion-like head follows Yoongi until they’ve turned into another street, jade eyes glinting in the streetlights.

“Ugh, Yoongi,” Jeongguk says. “You’re thinking too loudly. We’re not gonna find it if you’re thinking so hard.”

“It sounds like you just don’t know where it is.”

“I do! But we can’t get there with you thinking so hard about it!”

“It’s one of those places, then,” Yoongi says, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Gimme a second.”

He closes his eyes, breathes out, and lets his thoughts go with it. With his head clear, he can feel the thrumming of the city deep in his bones – the humming of the subway nearby, rapid-fire Cantonese in the seafood shop, the footsteps of those flowing around them on the sidewalk. It’s grimey and messy and dirty and so very New York.

“Lead the way,” Yoongi says, opening his eyes. He lets his feet follow Jeongguk, keeping his mind open to the buzzing city but blank of everything else.

Yoongi wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else how they got there, but from one moment to the next, they were stopped on the pavement. Squished between an acupuncture clinic and a sprawling fruit and vegetable store is the sign ‘House of Mystery’. The facade is dark, vines growing over all of it, and there’s objects stacked in the windows. Purple light shines out.

Yoongi can feel the wards coating the place, radiating power. The door is one of those ridiculously solid ones with a big brass knocker, but Jeongguk just shoves it open and strolls in.

“Taehyungie! Jiminie! Hallooo! I am here! Did you miss me!”

Yoongi groans. He considers just leaving, but Jeongguk’s thieving fingers still have his ring.

The inside of the shop is a lot bigger than the outside suggests. And it’s a hell of a lot greener. Plants cover all the walls, vines and leaves and flowers. It’s like stepping into a jungle. There are shelves filled with items, but all manner of pot plants are interspersed between it. The ceiling is covered in gauzy fabrics, lights shining hazily through.

It’s honestly just an enormous fucking mess. The strong scent of incense tickles his nose and he tries not to sneeze.

A door slams somewhere in the shop, then footsteps. A head pokes up over a vine-covered shelf. Yoongi can only see silver hair falling into bright eyes.

“Guk-ah! And a friend?”

The half-head disappears as Jeongguk grumbles, “You don’t need to act so surprised, okay. I have friends.”

“I’m sure you have friends,” says the disembodied voice. “Just a surprise to see my little Guk all grown up and out in the world, making his own friends, living his own life— oh. Hello.”

The silver-haired guy steps out from around a plant with purple leaves and stops short. He blinks wide eyes at Yoongi, then smiles, and Yoongi feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He didn’t expect Jeongguk’s friend to look like this. With the plants and the grey hair, he’d thought Taehyung was some old grandfather.

But he’s not. He’s very, very not. His skin is golden, his collarbones are sharp, and his face holds an ethereal beauty that’s at home amongst the gauzy, green atmosphere of the shop. Yoongi had thought no one would be able to suit this store without looking tacky, but… here we are.

“Taehyung! This is my friend, he’s really great and really kind and he needs your help—”

“Min Yoongi, right?” Taehyung smiles, head canting to the side so his earring dangles onto his shoulder. “Exorcist extraordinaire. Jeongguk’s friend. I should’ve known for that, but the rest gives you away.” One long-fingered hand gestures at Yoongi’s everything.

Yoongi stares. He can’t remember a time he’s ever been introduced to someone who’s heard of him and they smiled. A real, genuine smile. Yoongi isn’t that great at people, but he’s getting nothing but sincerity from this guy. It’s rare his instincts are that wrong. Nowadays, at least.

“I have other friends,” Jeongguk mutters sourly.

“I’m sorry, I’d shake your hand, but.” He holds up his hands and wiggles his fingers. They’re covered in dirt. And while his shirt looks like something silk and expensive, he’s got his pants rolled up to his knees, no shoes. His feet are also covered in dirt. It should definitely be gross. Yoongi should definitely not be intrigued. “I normally wear gloves, I swear. But I just saw this really great snail, you know? And then there was a weed. And where there’s one, there’s more. Don’t tell Jimin I got distracted from the store again.”

It’s a lot of words. Yoongi’s not really sure what to do with them all. Luckily, silence isn’t Jeongguk’s strong suit.

“Depends,” he says, eyes narrowing. “What do you have for me?”

“It always comes down to bribery, huh.” Taehyung walks over, ruffling Jeongguk’s hair. He yelps, lunging away.

“Ew, gross! Gross hands!”

“There’s Choco Pies upstairs. Go gorge yourself while the adults talk.”

“Deal!” Jeongguk scampers off to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Yoongi can hear his footsteps thudding around for a few moments.

“So you need help,” Taehyung says. He turns and walks away. Yoongi hesitates a moment before following after him. Like he’s meant to, right? Fuck, Yoongi hates socialising. “My help, specifically? Some kind of magical artefact?”

Taehyung’s movements are graceful and quick. The purple lights catch on his silver hair. Yoongi finds he can’t tear his eyes away.

“A, uh, a ring,” Yoongi says belatedly. Is it just him or are the plants tilting towards Taehyung as they pass? “It stinks of magic but I don’t know what kind.”

“Mmm. You’re in the right place.”

Yoongi’s too focused on watching Taehyung’s dirt-smeared, long fingers drag across a vine that he walks into a shelf. Something wobbles. In an instant, Taehyung’s there, a hand on his back and the other snatching the snow globe that almost fell.

“Oops,” Taehyung says, too close. A smile curls up his face. His voice is low and Yoongi shivers. “Don’t wanna break that. I’d have to hire you to exterminate the very angry yeti inside.” Taehyung steps back, hand leaving Yoongi’s back. Yoongi can breathe again. “Look, so small and cute. Very ferocious in real life.”

He shakes the snow globe and holds it in front of Yoongi’s face. Inside is a mountain peak, covered in snow. Tiny trees dot the bottom of it. Something furry is running in circles around a tiny, wooden house. Its little arms are waving up in the air.

“A curse?” Yoongi asks, frowning at him.

Taehyung places it back on the top of the shelf, in its stand. The snowstorm inside the globe begins to die down. The yeti makes a beeline away from the house to bang on the edge of the glass. It doesn’t make a sound.

“Something like that. A punishment is probably more correct. He’s so adorable, but not for sale just yet.”

Yoongi watches the snow globe for a moment before his eyes are drawn back to Taehyung. His eyes are on the globe, but he glances at Yoongi and smiles again. It’s so earnest and bright. Yoongi doesn’t get it.

“The ring?” Yoongi says, clearing his throat.

“Oh, yes. Of course. I’ll just wash my hands.”

Taehyung leads him to a counter then disappears through a door. Yoongi looks around, shifting on his feet. The rest of the store is empty. Something touches his wrist. He jumps back, stumbling, switchblade in his hand.

It’s just a vine.

A dark green vine, small leaves dotting its length, uncurling to reach out to him. Yoongi stares at it. It shivers a bit but doesn’t move further.

“All clean! No more grubby hands. Where’s that— oh.” Taehyung, on the other side of the counter, stops short. Frowns at the vine reaching out to Yoongi. “Ah, hah, sorry. It does that sometimes.”

Taehyung pokes at the vine, whispering, “Hey, don’t embarrass me.” Yoongi’s not sure if he was meant to hear that. The vine curls back in and disappears into the mess of green. “The ring?” Taehyung smiles hopefully.

Yoongi gives one last look to the vine then hands over the ring. Taehyung holds it up to the light dangling on a chain above them. His eyes narrow.

“You know this is just cut glass, right?”

Yoongi grits his teeth. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Taehyung fishes around under the counter for a moment before coming up with a jeweller’s loupe. He examines the ring again through the tiny magnifying glass.

“Mmm. And set in iron. That’s an interesting choice. Iron’s notoriously hard to spell with anything. Just sucks magic right up. Strong ties to Mars, though. Ancient Roman god of war, rather than the planet. Though also the planet, to an extent. And this… an engraving? Hmm.”

In a quick movement, he snaps the loupe closed and focuses on Yoongi. Having his full attention again makes shivers run down his back.

“Nope, no idea,” Taehyung says.

Yoongi blinks.

“What?”

Taehyung rests an elbow on the counter, propping his head up with a fist. His shirt falls to the side to reveal even more collarbone.

“No clue,” he says. He stares unblinkingly at Yoongi. “I have some ideas, though. Leave it with me for several days and I’ll chase down a few leads.” Yoongi frowns and opens his mouth, but Taehyung beats him to it. “You’ll be wanting the ring back, though, right? You look like you don’t trust easily.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t know you.”

“And you trust the people you do know? Actually, sorry, no need to answer that. Jimin’s always going on about what I can say and what I shouldn’t say. And that probably falls into the latter. Sorry! Just give me a sec.” Taehyung pulls out his phone and takes several photos of the ring. He holds the phone out to Yoongi. Yoongi stares at it. “Well?” Taehyung shakes it at him. “Put your number in.”

“What? Why?”

“How else am I meant to tell you what I’ve found out?”

“I’ll just come by in a few days.”

One eyebrow arches. “Yoongi. Number. Don’t make this difficult.”

Yoongi scowls. He tries not to feel like a scolded child as he puts his number into Taehyung’s phone.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Taehyung says as he takes his phone back and fiddles with it. Then stares at him expectantly.

“What?” Yoongi says. He feels like he’s missed something. To be fair, he’s felt like he’s missing something for the whole time he’s been here.

“My message. Did you get it?”

Yoongi stares at him blankly for a moment before digging his phone out of his pocket. He jams the home button a few times. Nothing happens. It’s dead. He holds it out to Taehyung with a shrug.

“Useless.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re so cute. Jeongguk! Get back down here! You better not have eaten all of my Choco Pies!”

Cute? Cute? What in the fuck had Yoongi ever done in his life that could be considered cute? Maybe as a baby, he could be considered cute. Maybe. He’d been called many things, but they were generally the complete opposite of cute.

Jeongguk’s footsteps thud across the ceiling before he comes jumping down the stairs, taking them two at a time. A tiny, dark hairball leaps along behind him. Yoongi blinks at it, mind racing through his bestiary until realising it’s just a very small, very fluffy dog.

“You woke up Yeontannie!” Taehyung scolds, but he’s leaning down to scoop up the little dog and cradle him in his arms. He buries his face into the dog’s fur and makes kissy noises. The dog squirms, trying to lick his face.

“Yeontan, joy of my life, bundle of happiness, this is Min Yoongi. Be nice.”

The dog is shoved in Yoongi’s face. It goes still, staring at him with unblinking eyes for a moment, before straining forward nose-first.

“Um,” Yoongi says, hesitantly stretching forward a hand. “Nice doggy?”

Yeontan sniffs his fingers, wet nose cold against his skin. A ripple goes through Yoongi’s body and he frowns.

“Wait. That’s not a dog.”

“Good boy, Tannie,” Taehyung coos, bringing the dog back to nestle against his chest. “What do you mean? He’s a dog.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” Taehyung says. “But Yeontan’s just a harmless little Pomeranian, right?”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment. Taehyung looks back evenly, small smile playing around his mouth.

“A harmless dog. Right,” Yoongi eventually says. “Well, call me when you know something.”

“I will,” he replies. Yoongi feels like he has all of Taehyung’s focus, despite the wiggling dog in his arms. His eyes are warm and bright and see straight into Yoongi.

He’s not used to this.

“Wait! I’ll drive you back!” Jeongguk says, eyes shining as he jogs over.

“I thought I told you no more stealing cars near my shop,” Taehyung scolds.

“I’d prefer the walk, anyway,” Yoongi says.

“Yoongi,” Taehyung calls when he’s almost at the door. “Are you forgetting something? Or did you wanna leave it with me after all?”

Yoongi turns back. The ring glints in Taehyung’s hand.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath. He stalks back and snatches it up.

Taehyung grins at him, lips pulling back to reveal both rows of teeth. It’s strange-shaped and so fucking cute, it makes Yoongi nauseous.

“It was nice meeting you, Min Yoongi! After all this time. Gukkie talks about you all the time but never mentioned how perfectly adorable you are.”

And then, of all the fucking things, Taehyung leans in and boops him on the nose. Yoongi rears back, nose wrinkling.

“I… ah—”

He’s lost for words. Since when the fuck is he ever lost for words.

“See you soon!”

Yoongi mumbles something in reply then hurries out of there. As the door’s closing, he hears Jeongguk say, “Gross, Taehyungie, did you really have to—” And then he’s out on the street again.

It’s not until the next morning, when he finally remembers to charge his phone, that he sees what Taehyung had sent him.

Unknown number

Hello Yoongi! Don’t forget to save my number to your phone 😇✨

Yoongi definitely does not like him.

---

“Jeongguk,” Yoongi says a few days later. “What does the little picture with three stars mean?”

“What? What are you talking about? What picture?”

Yoongi peers into the water in front of him. “You know, those little pictures that you send through your phone? You sent me one today. Of a tiny person swimming.”

“You mean emojis? Oh my god. Oh my god. Little pictures.” Jeongguk laughs so loud he bends in half, clutching his stomach. “Little pictures! Just wait until I tell Taehyung!”

“You can’t tell Taehyung!” Yoongi hisses. “Tell me what the three stars mean!”

“I assume it’s from Taehyung? I can’t see anyone else messaging you, let alone sending you emojis.”

“It doesn’t matter who it’s from.”

“Little pictures, oh my god.”

“What are the three stars!”

“Is this really the best time to be talking about this? I appreciate you taking me along on one of your jobs, but I don’t know how I’m meant to be watching your back when you say stuff like that. You’re so funny, Yoongi.”

Jeongguk is, perhaps, correct. They’re currently in the foyer of an over-the-top, completely empty karaoke joint. The walls are gold and there’s a ridiculous fountain taking pride of place in the room. The same fountain where several karaoke-goers drowned in the past week.

“Um, if I may? Interrupt? I wouldn’t stand so close to the water.”

Yoongi blinks. He’d forgotten about the man who’d hired him. Benji Otsuka. He was hovering to the side, anxiously wringing his hands. The owner of this gaudy karaoke bar, he’d called Yoongi five times in a row before Yoongi bothered to pick up. That kind of dedication deserved some reward. And maybe he was in a good mood.

Benji Otsuka isn’t a bad sort. Yoongi believes that any man above the age of fifty that’s comfortable wearing a bright pink feather boa warrants his respect.

“What did the bodies look like when you found them?”

“Bloated. And wrinkled. We’d always find them when we opened at midday.”

“Did they look like they’d been in a fight? Still smiling? Crushed at all? Blood drained out?”

Benji looks nauseated.

“Blood. They have stomach wounds, but no blood. Is it a…” His voice lowers. “A vampire?”

Yoongi snorts. “Living in a fountain? No.”

“I actually know a vampire, really nice—”

“Do you usually serve up cucumbers?” Yoongi cuts Jeongguk off.

Benji looks surprised. “Ah, yes, we cut them up and use them to decorate our fruit platters. But they messed up our last order, so we’re out.”

“Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk’s already tugging off his backpack and pulling out the cucumber Yoongi asked him to bring earlier.

“I still don’t understand cucumbers, out of everything. I thought you were just hungry?”

“I am,” Yoongi says, taking a bite of the cucumber and crunching away. It’s probably the most nutritious thing he’s eaten in months. “Step back.”

He snaps off half the cucumber and lobs it into the pool. He grabs his mageblade hilt from his belt. It smokes for a moment, then the blade begins to form out of the mist. Tiny droplets dot its length. Yoongi can feel its power roiling and hissing in his mind.

The fountain is still. The cucumber bobs on top. Then a dark green shape blurs out of the other corner of the pool and darts towards the cucumber. Yoongi leaps into the pool and stabs forward with his blade. The creature shrieks as the blade skims along its side, catching against the shell on its back.

The thing darts back, bleeding black blood, and stares at Yoongi with unblinking eyes. The cucumber has bobbed away behind him.

“What the fuck! Is that a mutant ninja turtle?” Jeongguk yelps.

It does somewhat look like an overgrown turtle, except with a beak and claws and a weird, dish-like depression on its head. It’s not a pretty sight, but Yoongi isn’t one to judge.

“Stay back,” Yoongi orders, but Jeongguk’s already stepped closer. The kappa’s eyes dart to the side and it’s all the warning Yoongi gets. It lunges, its back legs pushing off powerfully, and slams into Jeongguk. Blood sprays into the air as its claws tear into him.

Yoongi can’t hear anything but a dull whine. His mind’s gone blank. He’s out of the pool in a moment and ramming the blade through the top of the kappa’s skull, its one weak point. Still stuck on his mageblade, he wrenches the kappa off Jeongguk. The body flops wetly to the ground. Black blood leaks out. He leaves the blade stuck in the kappa’s twitching body, humming happily as it sucks the monster’s power out.

Jeongguk is coughing on the ground. His shirt is ripped along the sides from the kappa’s claws. The worst damage is to his neck and shoulder, where the kappa’s long teeth had been buried.

“You idiot,” Yoongi hisses, crouching down. Jeongguk’s red blood mixes with the water that’s dripping off of Yoongi. “How can you be so stupid.”

“This, ow, this d-doesn’t mean you can’t bring me w-with you in the future.”

“Such an idiot.”

“Does this mean you c-care? Aw, Yoongi, I’ll have to get hurt m-more often.”

Yoongi ignores him and turns to Benji instead. He’s clutching his feather boa between both hands like he wants to rip it apart.

“You. Find some bandages. I also want you to boil some water for ten minutes, then add three tablespoons of salt, and boil it for three more. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes! Right away!”

Benji scurries off.

“Boiling salt water?” Jeongguk’s eyes are unfocused from the pain. “W-What kind of pathetic excuse is that?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi says. He lays both his hands on Jeongguk’s forearm and closes his eyes. “I can’t let him see this.”

Yoongi breaths in and holds it for a few moments. Lets the breath go. He reaches inside of himself for that hated ball of hell-magic. Lets it fill him up with icy, stabbing pain. The tattoo on his chest tingles. In the next breath, he reaches into Jeongguk and sucks in his wounds.

For a moment as it works, he feels like he’s drifting in a cold mist. Then his neck rips open, lines of pain ripping down his sides and he gasps. The pain is immense, like millions of needles stabbing into his skin. He draws in a breath to scream, but his chest is frozen. All he can do is roll to his side and ride it out.

He’s not sure how much later it is when he opens his eyes. He’s lying in a puddle and it stinks. It’s water mixed with the blood of both Jeongguk, Yoongi and the kappa. Gross.

Jeongguk is hovering in front of him, hands patting back his hair.

“Yoongi? Are you there?”

Yoongi groans. “Keep your dirty, thieving hands to yourself, brat.”

Jeongguk lets out a relieved huff. Yoongi pushes himself up. He feels fine now, but shivers of phantom pain are still wracking his body. He touches his neck. His fingers come away with sticky blood. The skin is perfectly healed beneath.

Jeongguk is fine as well, even if his clothes are a little worse for wear.

“You’re gonna have to steal yourself a new shirt.”

Jeongguk looks down at his shirt and pulls it away from his body to examine it.

“Nah, I’ll just wash it. I can rock the ripped shirt look.”

Yoongi gives him a disgusted look. “How long was I out?”

“About ten minutes. Feather boa dude hasn’t come back yet.”

“Good,” Yoongi grunts, pushing himself up. “Go wait in the car. Don’t get into more trouble. I’m not healing you again.”

Jeongguk looks abashed. “Sorry, Yoongi. Thank you for healing me.”

“Get out of here,” Yoongi says, waving him off when he tries to go in for a hug.

When he’s gone, Yoongi breathes out a soft sigh. Jeongguk is a pest, but the sight of him lying in a pool of his own blood is going to be stuck in his head on loop for the next few weeks.

The kappa’s just a grey pile of ash now. His mageblade has fallen to the side, blade vanished. He picks up the hilt and sticks it through his belt again. Kicks aside the cucumber he’d dropped.

He takes a guess where the kitchens are and meets Benji hurrying out with a pot of water.

“Ah! There you are! The boy, is he still alive? I followed your instructions.”

“He’s fine. The kappa’s dead. We talked about payment, before?”

Benji stares at him.

“But… what about this?” He holds out the pot, as if Yoongi’s gonna take it.

“It’s fine.” Yoongi takes a small step back. “Payment?”

“O-Okay. If you say so. Let me just… go get it then. And I’ll pour out this water? If you don’t need it? Are you sure?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. Benji scurries off. He returns a few moments later, no pot, but a pile of cash in hand.

“Here, thank you, Min-sama. I can’t thank you enough. I am sorry about your friend. That thing, what was it?”

“A kappa. They love cucumbers. I guess it got angry when you ran out of cucumbers and decided to eat your customers instead.” Yoongi counts out the money and pockets it. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Thank you, Min-sama! Truly!”

Yoongi’s climbing the stairs out of the karaoke den when he realises his phone is vibrating. He digs it out. He presses on the answer button, then realises it’s already stopping ringing. 1 missed call – Taehyung flashes across the screen and Yoongi stops dead.

He’s already calling him back before his mind catches up.

“Yoongi?”

Was Taehyung’s voice really that deep when they met before? Probably not.

“Ah, yeah, yes. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Woah, didn’t expect to hear from you so quick. Speedy!”

Yoongi feels his cheeks heating up, which he’d never admit to anyone.

“Yeah, sorry for missing your call. Just finished a job.”

“Does that mean now’s a good time to come via my place? I’ve got info for you on the ring.”

“Yes,” Yoongi says, then glances down at himself. He’s still covered in a mix of blood and water. His boots squelch when he shifts his feet. “Ah, actually, no. Maybe in an hour?”

“Works for me! I’ll, ah, try not to get caught out back again. If I’m not there, Jimin will be out front! Just ask for me. Okay. Yep. See you soon, Yoongi!”

Taehyung hangs up and Yoongi’s left standing on the street, blinking in the sunlight. Even talking to Taehyung on the phone is like a whirlwind. He’s just so much.

No one gives him a second look as he stands there – the beauty of the city. He realises he’s smiling – not much – but clears his throat and gets rid of it.

Beeeeeep!

Yoongi jolts. Jeongguk’s head pops out of the window of a car parked a few spots down.

“C’mon! What are you doing, let’s go!”

“Brat,” Yoongi mutters, but gets into the car anyway.

---

Yoongi had definitely not stood in his room, debating what to wear. He wore pretty much the same thing every day, so that would be ridiculous. He hadn’t done that. At all.

If his jeans were slightly nicer and less ripped than normal? If they were the ones Jeongguk had wolf-whistled at that one time? That didn’t mean anything.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi calls as he enters the store. He looks around and stops short. The layout is different. He could’ve sworn the winding staircase was on his right before, but now it’s on his left. Even the plants – was there that cluster of white lilies there before?

“Yoongi!” Taehyung ducks out from around a plant, grinning at him. There’s some kind of yellow flower with a red centre hooked behind his ear. Instead of looking like an idiot on vacation in Hawaii, he looks ethereal. Maybe it’s the floral robe billowing behind him as he hops around plants on his way to Yoongi. “Thanks for coming in! And your phone being charged this time. That was unexpected.”

“You got lucky,” Yoongi says, as if he hadn’t made sure his phone was charging last night for the first time ever. His eyes are drawn back to the flower in Taehyung’s ear and he notices. His eyes go wide and his hand flies up, grabbing the flower.

“Oh! Ah, oops, sorry,” he laughs. His cheeks are dusted with pink. Yoongi can’t look away. “It was a gift. They do that, sometimes. Forgot about it completely!”

“It’s fine. It looks nice,” Yoongi says, and now he’s blushing.

“Thank you.” The smile on his face is brilliant. “But the ring! The ring. Come, I made tea.”

His long fingers wrap around Yoongi’s wrist and he tugs him forward. Yoongi thinks of wrenching his wrist back but then he just… doesn’t. He’s led through the new layout of the shop and out a door at the back. His stomach lurches and he stumbles to a stop, blinking at the bright sunlight.

It had been an overcast day when he’d entered the store. And there definitely wasn’t any room for this green oasis. Trees ring them in, plants growing in a mess of colours and sizes everywhere. The only building Yoongi can see is the store behind them.

They’re definitely not in New York anymore.

“Oops, sorry!” Taehyung says, eyes wide when he catches sight of Yoongi’s pale face. His fingers drop from Yoongi’s wrist. “I always forget to warn people. It can be a bit jarring at first.”

“Where are we?” Yoongi frowns, walking to the edge. He can’t see any walls enclosing them in, just greenery. The sun is hot on his skin, breeze warm. He shrugs off his jacket but keeps his sleeves pulled down to his wrists.

A butterfly floats past his nose.

“Not New York,” Taehyung says. He has wandered over to a garden bed where the soil looks freshly turned. A few tiny plants peak through. They shiver as Taehyung kneels down to examine them. “Not even the US, I don’t think. I never asked.”

“You’ve never explored through the trees?”

“Sure,” Taehyung says. He’s rooting through the soil now. His silk robe is hanging in the dirt but he doesn’t seem to care. “You just end up coming out the other side.”

“Did you make this?” Surely Yoongi would’ve heard of him if he was this powerful.

Two birds dive together out of a tree, fluttering around each other before swooping out of sight. One’s bright red, the other’s green and yellow.

Taehyung snorts. “No, no way. I’m somewhat the black sheep of the family. I can barely light a candle. This was a gift from a witch who lives down south. Very far down south.”

A breeze stirs the tree. The leaves rustle together. Yoongi isn’t sensing any kind of illusions. It seems real. Maybe a pocket? Half here and half there. Taehyung’s store is in the perfect place for it, one of the thin places between this world and the magic out there.

“Yoongi! Look at this!”

Yoongu turns. Taehyung’s on his knees, turned towards him with a hand out. Yoongi comes closer. A tiny ladybug is crawling between his fingers. Taehyung’s hand tilts with its movements.

“Isn’t she cute! She just landed on me. Here!”

And suddenly Taehyung is right in front of him, connecting their hands. The ladybug scuttles around for a bit then walks onto Yoongi’s fingers. He stares down at it, wide-eyed. He can feel tiny legs like a tickle across his skin.

In the next moment, it flies away. Yoongi’s eyes latch back onto Taehyung, though, watching the child-like wonder light up his face as he tracks the ladybug’s journey.

“Adorable,” Taehyung breathes. He tilts his head to the side and catches Yoongi looking at him. His smile widens. “And you’re pretty adorable yourself. Tea?”

Yoongi’s left blinking by himself as Taehyung moves away.

“What?”

“Tea! I have some buckwheat tea, straight from the motherland.” He pours it out. Yoongi hesitantly sits down. “I hope you like it. I forgot to ask. You do drink tea, right? Now I think about it, I feel you’d be a coffee addict. It’s the whole… sleepy, angry vibe you’ve got going on.”

“Vibe?” Yoongi repeats.

“Yeah, you know… the circles under your eyes. The angry eyebrows.”

“Thanks.”

“Not in a bad way! In a cute way. Kind of like Grumpy Cat, you know?”

Yoongi blinks. The name sounds familiar, but he says, “No. I don’t know.”

“It’s that famous cat, you know, that always looks grumpy? He’s a meme.” It hits him, then, why it’s familiar – Jeongguk once changed his phone’s lock screen to that and he couldn’t change it back for a month. “Anyway, not the point. The point is tea! Here!”

Taehyung’s holiding out a mug to him. It has a fox painted on it, the tail curling up the handle.

“It’s Jimin’s,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “You can’t learn taste, I guess. He thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Uh… thanks?” Yoongi says. He takes a sip of the buckwheat tea. It tastes a bit like how Yoongi imagines dirt would taste. But like the soil from Taehyung’s magical garden, rather than the dirt from the sidewalk. Expensive dirt. Taehyung looks like he’s enjoying it, at least.

He feels something curling around his ankle and he flinches, sending the teacup clattering onto the table.

It’s a fucking vine again, trying to curl around his ankle.

“Oh,” Taehyung says, eyes round and cheeks pink as he stares down at the vine. It’s reaching out to Yoongi hungrily. Yoongi shifts out of reach. “Sorry! I swear they don’t normally do this. Pinky swear.”

“Aren’t you some kind of green witch? You can’t make them stop?”

Something in Taehyung’s face shifts. It’s like a curtain coming down. Where before he was open and earnest, now something’s closed off. The smile is still there and Yoongi can’t pinpoint exactly what’s different, but he’s messed up.

“Black sheep, remember? I’m a useless witch. Plants just love me, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He’s not used to comforting other people, but he knows enough to know that’s what he should be doing here. But… he’s coming up blank. Jeongguk’s the one who’s good at this. It’s the main reason he started bringing him on jobs – he deals with the emotions side of it. The comforting side. Yoongi just does the only thing he’s good at – sending things back to hell.

“The ring,” Yoongi blurts, seizing on the first topic to come to mind. “What’d you find out?”

The sharp set of Taehyung’s shoulders softens, relaxes.

“The ring,” he says, “is an interesting one. It’s called the Ring of Naberius.”

Yoongi frowns. “Like the demon?”

“Exactly like the demon!” The light enters back into Taehyung’s eyes and he’s leaning forward eagerly, phone out and flipping through the photo’s he’d taken. He zooms in on one and points at the screen. “That’s his seal scratched into the ring; really, really tiny. You see it? It’s kinda hidden by the raven wing etchings, but it’s there. Six of them.”

“So it’s a demon’s ring?”

“Yes! And a pretty powerful one, too. Naberius is known for being good at talking. People listen to him. He’s also fashioned himself into a bit of a protector of hell, like a policeman, if demons can have that? But, oh, you’d know better than me, right? This is your thing.”

“My thing,” Yoongi repeats. “Sure. Yeah, I’ve crossed paths with him. Would not shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe you just inspire conversation,” Taehyung says with a grin. “It’s a strong, silent type thing, I guess? Anyway. Back to the ring. I’d say he crafted it years ago and invested part of his power in it, probably as a gift. I found mention of a few people he would’ve been close enough to gift something like this, but you’re not concerned with how it came into your hands, right?”

“I want to know what it can do.”

“You warrior types.” Taehyung sips his tea, making a happy humming noise. “I can’t know for sure without testing it out myself. Did you bring it?”

“What do you think?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “No also works just fine. Okay, without testing it out myself, my best guess is it gives the wearer some emotional manipulation power tied with voice. More in the vein of nudging the listener towards believing everything the wearer’s saying, than outright being able to control their emotions. There’s probably a protection element to it as well, like some wards. The iron means it won’t be too strong at the emotional manipulation but adds to the protection side of it.”

“Huh,” Yoongi says. “Not bad.”

“Finding things is part of my job, Yoongi. Are you surprised I’m competent at it?”

“Wait, what? No—”

“I’m not just a pretty face, but I appreciate you thinking so.”

Yoongi opens his mouth, pauses. Taehyung’s grinning at him. His mouth snaps closed.

“You’re winding me up on purpose.”

“Of course I am,” Taehyung says. When he sips his tea this time, his eyes don’t leave Yoongi’s. “It’s fun. And I’ll also do anything for a compliment. I thrive off validation.”

“Ah,” Yoongi says. He swallows. “I can see that.”

“Now, as for paying me for this information that I went to a lot of trouble to find,” Taehyung says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table. He’s smirking. “Nothing in this world is free, etcetera, etcetera. You know the Guild of the Guiding Light’s ball this weekend?”

Yoongi had been invited. He’d had a lot of fun setting the pretentious invite on fire. Every year, he got the same invite. They hated him, but they still wanted everything he knew. And it’s at least an acknowledgement that he’s the best exorcist in the city.

“I’m aware of it,” Yoongi says. It’s probably the most diplomatic he’s ever been. He takes a sip of his tea in congratulations.

“I need a date. And you need to repay me. So, two birds one stone!”

Yoongi’s mouthful of tea ends up splattered all over the table. He hacks out the rest of it, then wipes his face with his jacket. Taehyung is looking at him in concern.

“You what,” he eventually grunts out.

“I’d like to take you to the ball this weekend. As my date.”

“In payment for the ring information?”

Taehyung shrugs.

“Sure.”

“No, you don’t get to give me half-ass answers,” Yoongi snaps. “Why the hell would you want to go with me? Are you trying to piss off all of New York’s mage population? You’ve gotta know what they think of me.”

Taehyung shrugs again, the movement almost bird-like in its delicacy. “My halmeoni is always pressuring me to bring a date and I think I’d have fun with you. I don’t really care about what New York’s esteemed mage population thinks about me. They all already know I’m a fail witch and I only get invited because of my family. It’ll be fun.”

“It won’t be fun,” Yoongi says. “Can’t you just accept money like a normal person?”

“Nope,” Taehyung says cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. A dragonfly hovers next to his head. “This is my payment.”

“We never discussed payment. I thought it was a favour.”

“Nothing’s free,” Taehyung sing-songs. “And it was gonna be a favour until I remembered the ball, so… that’s what this is.”

Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Are you saying you want to go to this ball with me? Why?”

“Eye-candy,” Taehyung says breezily. “And you’ll piss off Delfadessa even more. It’ll be fun, c’mon. Don’t you wanna spend more time with me?” Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin on a hand and batting his eyelashes.

And Yoongi must be drunk or insane because his answer is yes. He does want to spend more time with Taehyung, ball or not. He wants to watch the way Taehyung’s eyes light up at the most inane things. How animated his face gets. He doesn’t even mind his stupid plants, which are currently winding their way up his leg.

“Okay,” he says. Taehyung freezes, but only for a moment. He cheers.

“Yes! Really? Yes! You can’t take it back now! Excellent! Jimin’s gonna be so jealous I have a date like you.”

“Like me?” Yoongi says, face going red at the word ‘date’.

“So cute.” Taehyung leans forward and pinches his cheek. Yoongi lets him. Then Taehyung’s fingers push into his hair and Yoongi does nothing but shiver. “Oops!” Taehyung giggles, hand withdrawing. He brandishes a leaf. “Not as cool as a ladybug, but still.” Then he blows the leaf away.

Yoongi takes a sip of his tea. He looks up to find Taehyung staring at him, chin propped up on his hand again and fingers drumming against his cheekbone.

“What,” Yoongi says flatly to hide his embarrassment.

“You just came from a job?”

“Yes.”

“Another poltergeist?”

“No, a creature this time. A kappa.”

“Ooh, I like them! They’re nice.”

“This one drowned four people because they stopped giving him cucumbers.”

“Not the smartest, I guess. Whereabouts?”

“East Village. Karaoke joint.”

Taehyung huffs and sits back. Yoongi sips at his tea. He’s up to the bottom part where the flavour is super intense. Like dirt.

“Yoongi, I’m trying to create conversation.” Taehyung laughs. “You look like I’m torturing this information out of you?”

“You’re interrogating me.”

“People love to talk about themselves! This is how conversation happens. You’re just a lost cause.” Taehyung switches gears abruptly, eyes going intent. “Did you get hurt? You’re moving a little gingerly.”

Yoongi’s hit with the image of Jeongguk, on the ground, neck and shoulder torn to shreds. His whole body on fire as it heals.

The sick feeling in his stomach that’s been there since the karaoke joint intensifies.

“No,” he says, stiffening.

Out of nowhere, he hears tiny nails skittering across the floor and then a ball of fluff jumps through the doggy-door. It barrels towards him and stops a few feet away, growling.

“Tannie,” Taehyung says, exasperated. He bends down to scoop him up and cradles him in one elbow. The dog settles down but turns and fixes its beady little eyes on Yoongi. Yoongi frowns at it.

“Where are you hurt?” Taehyung asks. He leans forward slightly, eyes bright and scanning what he can see of Yoongi. “Did you treat it yourself? Let me take a look, I’ve had to bandage a few wounds in my time.”

“I’m not hurt,” Yoongi snaps. “I told you that.”

Taehyung pauses, lips parted. He tilts his head to the side, silver hair shifting, and Yoongi hates the way he’s looking at him. Like he cares.

Yeontan settles down in his arms.

“No, you said you didn’t get hurt. But you lied.”

Yoongi’s spine goes stiff.

“You’re an empath?” he asks. Revulsion creeps through him. It takes Yeontan jumping on the table for him to realise he’s standing again, chair shoved to the side. Taehyung stares up at him, wide-eyed.

“No, I’m not an empath,” Taehyung says quickly. His hands are out in front of him. “I’m not. I can’t read your thoughts or anything like that.”

“A truthseeker, then.”

“No, it’s, uh… it’s Yeontan.”

“What? Your dog?” Yoongi takes another step back.

“Please don’t go,” Taehyung says, eyes beseeching. He stands up from the table but doesn’t come much closer. “I knew you were lying because Yeontan got angry. Here, look. Um… the sky is green.”

Yeontan whines and wiggles in his arms.

“Jeongguk would never steal any of my food.”

Yeontan growls. His teeth are revealed, tiny and sharp.

“I really want Yoongi to leave.” He says it softly, voice like the sun on a cold winter’s day. Deep and soul-warming and soft. Delicate.

Until Yeontan’s growl gets louder and he lunges forward, sinking his small, vicious teeth into Taehyung’s arm.

“Taehyung, fuck, I get it, okay.” Yoongi comes forward and grabs Taehyung’s wrist. His robe falls back to his elbow, revealing the light dusting of hair on his tan forearm. His skin is red around the bite, but it’s only bleeding shallowly in two spots. Yoongi pulls his sweater over his hand and gently dabs the blood away. “We need to clean this. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Yoongi.” He doesn’t need to see Taehyung’s face to know he’s smiling at him. He probably wouldn’t be able to deal with that smile at the moment. “It’s fine. I can deal with a Yeontan-sized bite. I deserve it, anyway. Lies are painful for him.”

“So you can’t read my mind.”

“I can’t read your mind. In case you haven’t picked it up yet, I’m a fail witch.”

Yoongi looks up from Taehyung’s wound, meeting his eyes. They’re standing close. Taehyung’s smiling, but there’s a deep sadness in his eyes. Less of a joke than he makes it seem, then.

“You can’t be that much of a fail witch,” Yoongi says. “This garden is amazing. And the plants all love you.”

Yoongi’s the first to admit he’s shit at comforting other people. But something about Taehyung makes him want to try.

But his awkward attempt pays off when Taehyung ducks his head down, cheeks dusting pink.

“They do, don’t they,” he murmurs. He stretches a toe out, nudging at a dandelion. At his touch, it shoots up a few inches. The expression on Taehyung’s face as he looks at his garden makes Yoongi’s heart hurt. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.

“I have to go,” Yoongi says, stepping back. “But send me the event information.”

“I will!” Taehyung says, head flying up and grin overtaking his face. “It’s gonna be fun! You won’t regret it.”

“I’ll definitely regret it.”

Taehyung ignores him. “And answer my text messages this time! Okay?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, throwing a wave over his shoulder and leaving Taehyung in his magical garden surrounded by all the plants clamouring for his attention.

---

Yoongi doesn’t really know what he’s doing here. He’d resolved not to show up and yet… here he is. Out the front of what looks like a cathedral packed between the usual cramped apartment buildings of midtown Manhattan. The Guild must think they’re so hilarious hosting their wanky ball in a cathedral, or at least what had once been a cathedral.

He’s out of view, leaning against a building across the street and working on his third cigarette. He’s not hiding. That’d be ridiculous. He glances down at his phone. The last message is from Taehyung.

Taehyung

I’m 5 away! ✨✨

Those fucking stars again. Yoongi still doesn’t know what they mean. He doesn’t know about the others one, either. All week, Taehyung had been sending him photos? Of stupid things, too. One was of a tiny carved wooden statue with an enormous dick. Taehyung’s caption: It’s cursed! Made the last owner wank to death. Goals, amiright

The next was a video of a bright orange ball bouncing around the store. Yoongi can hear someone else cursing in the background. Bouncing ball of doom got loose somehow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ once it starts, it doesn’t stop lol

There were a few photos of Yeontan and one with Taehyung’s face scrunched next to the furball’s. It wasn’t cute at all.

He’d also come across the ladybug again and sent him a blurry picture. Yoongi’s not really sure why Taehyung is bothering with all this.

As Yoongi watches his phone, three little dots pop up at the bottom. Yoongi frowns at them, then a flurry of messages come through.

Taehyung

Here!! Where you?

You better be here

Don’t think I don’t know where you live, Min Yoongi

JK told me. Not stalking you

Much ;)

Yoongi doesn’t know where to start with that, so he doesn’t reply. Again. He slides the phone into his pocket, sucks it up, and makes his way back to the cathedral. He spots Taehyung and forgets to lift his foot up, so ends up tripping onto the curb.

Taehyung glances over and his smile is brilliant. He stands out on the street with his blazer, the colour of red wine and embroidered with pastel flowers. His dark pants hug his legs closely, the burgundy stripe down the side making them seem even longer than usual. For once, there’s no dirt smudges anywhere.

He’s ethereal, shining in a way Yoongi’s never seen before.

And Yoongi is… not quite on that level. The only suit he’d ever worn was for his parents’ funerals, so he wasn’t going to start now. A black oxford shirt and black pants are enough for him.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung says, closing the distance between them. His eyes trace down Yoongi’s body, darkening. “You came.”

Then Taehyung’s lips press to Yoongi’s cheek, making him freeze. There’s an odd pause before he replies. “Was I not meant to?”

“I just had a plan to drag you out kicking and screaming,” Taehyung says. Yoongi is hyper-aware of Taehyung’s hands resting on his hip bones. His eyes are hooded beneath the silver hair falling into them. His head cocks to the side, lips smirking, and Yoongi’s heartbeat is loud in his ears. “But I can still do it another time.” He draws back and Yoongi can take a complete breath again. “Come on, come meet Joonie!”

Taehyung’s hand slides into his with a familiarity that feels foreign. He drags him over to the two people he’d been talking to.

Yoongi sees who it is and stutters to a halt.

“Oh shit.”

One of them turns to him.

“Min Yoongi,” Seokjin hisses. His eyes pulse red. “You little brat! I’m going to strangle you and dump you in the Hudson.”

Yoongi side-steps neatly behind Taehyung. The guy standing next to Seokjin grabs his arm.

“Woah, what? Jin.”

“This little maggot,” Seokjin says viciously, stabbing a finger at Yoongi, “stole my favourite shirt! The Mario one.”

“The one where he’s holding the tiny wrench? You said you’d lost that.”

“I didn’t steal it. I won it, fair and square. And your pants, too.”

Yoongi had met Seokjin a few times, actually. The last time was when Yoongi had stumbled into a bar, his clothes pretty much all burned and skin freshly healed, and challenged him to a game of blackjack for his clothes. It was one of those situations where he had to take down the biggest player to get the rest to stop bothering him, and that just so happened to be Seokjin. Yoongi actually thinks he isn’t too bad, as far as vampires go.

“Give me back my Mario shirt!”

“I lost it,” Yoongi says blandly. “I’m sure you can find another.”

“This is your date, Tae? This gremlin?” Seokjin says, again with the angry, jabbing finger. “Why the fuck?”

Taehyung’s grinning. “He’s fun. Unlike you, old man.”

“Aish, little brat,” Seokjin says, a whole lot more affectionately than he had to Yoongi. “I still don’t like him.”

“No one’s asking you to, princess,” Taehyung says. “Yoongi, this is Namjoon, my cousin. And you apparently already know his boyfriend, Seokjin.”

Namjoon is lanky and long-limbed, but with less of the grace Taehyung possesses. The name rings a bell, but Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever met him before.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Namjoon says, holding out his hand. Yoongi, frowning, shakes it. He can’t think of the last time anyone said that to him. Namjoon’s obviously as unaware as his brother. “Good luck dealing with Tae.”

“Hey! Don’t make me start on—” Taehyung breaks off, eyes catching on something in the distance. He blinks. Yoongi follows his gaze but doesn’t see anything to merit that reaction, just the street and the usual crowd. “Ah, let’s go in. I need some champagne.”

Taehyung weaves their fingers together and tugs him into the cathedral, fast enough that Taehyung’s weird pause flies out of his head. The wards keeping out the non-magical slide over his skin. The noise hits him all at once – voices talking over each other, clinking glasses, shrieks of laughter. He wrinkles his nose.

“Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi,” Taehyung tells the satyr at the door. He’s standing behind a podium, an ancient book opened in front of him. His eyes flash up to give Yoongi a startled look. The satyr shifts on his hooves.

“Oh, uh, Min Yoongi. Go through, yes.”

“Thank you!” Taehyung sings, and tugs Yoongi into the main hall. Their hands are still connected. It’s a beautiful room with a high, domed ceiling, and stained glass. They’ve really taken liberty with the lights, lighting up the walls pink and purple and the ceiling a deep blue. Someone’s also spelled tiny sparkling lights to bob around, like stars. It’s already packed, all kinds of creatures and humans dressed in glittering colours.

Yoongi isn’t really sure what the point of all this is. To dress up? Get wasted? Show off who’s levelled up in the past year? Yoongi really, truly, doesn’t know why the fuck he showed up. Already, he can feel dozens of eyes on him. Their hate and disgust. It’s like a dark smoke crawling closer, smothering. He can feel his chest tightening up with it.

And Taehyung – he obviously hasn’t heard any of the rumours or stories. Why would he want to show up with someone like Yoongi? Only because he doesn’t know.

“He should’ve asked for your autograph,” Taehyung says, leaning in close to Yoongi’s ear. “Talk about starstruck.”

And suddenly Yoongi can breath properly again. He tilts his head to look at Taehyung. His mind slows its frantic pace.

Perhaps he’s not giving Taehyung enough credit. He’s not an idiot. He probably has heard what they say about him. And for some reason, he doesn’t care. People are going to talk about how he brought Yoongi with him and they’re not going to be polite about it. He must want that. He must be wanting to piss someone off.

And pissing people off? Yoongi’s pretty great at that.

Yoongi snags a glass of champagne off a passing waiter.

“Get me— oh.”

“Get your own,” Yoongi says with a fake smile. He swallows half of it one go and winces. It’s bubbly and sugary and gross, but it’s alcoholic. Yoongi’s fingers itch for a cigarette but he’ll take the next best vice.

“Don’t make me set Jinnie on you,” Taehyung says, leaning in close. His breath fans across Yoongi’s face and he feels himself unconsciously leaning closer. Then Taehyung bops Yoongi on the nose. “He’s pretty but also pretty crazy.”

Yoongi’s eyes involuntarily flicker to the right. Seokjin is standing off to the side, chatting to a group. He catches Yoongi looking and directs a scowl at him.

“His Mario shirt didn’t last the week. Had to throw it out.”

“If you want to keep living, I wouldn’t say that out loud. Jimin!”

A guy with blue hair turns from the group he’s talking to. He’s also in all black, with a fitted jacket that shines with sequins. His smile is large for Taehyung, but his eyes narrow on Yoongi.

“Who are you?” he says.

“Aish, Jimin,” Taehyung says, leaving Yoongi’s side to press a kiss onto this guy’s cheek. “Behave.” He pats Jimin’s head. “You look beautiful and I love the blue, but don’t spoil it with your bratty attitude.”

Jimin scowls, batting away Taehyung’s hands.

“I know I look good,” he says. “I don’t need your validation. I want to know who this is.” He points an accusing finger at Yoongi.

Yoongi stares evenly back.

“This is Min Yoongi. I told you I was bringing him!”

“I don’t listen to everything you say,” Jimin sniffs, tilting his nose into the ear. Yoongi had no idea it was possible for someone shorter to look down their nose at you. Yet, here they are.

“Well, this is Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jimin. He helps out at the store.”

“Helps out,” Jimin scoffs. “I end up running it half the time when you’re too busy sticking your head in the dirt.”

Taehyung squawks but they both ignore him.

“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine.” Jimin’s voice is caustic, biting. His smile is saccharine sweet. “The infamous Min Yoongi. Here with my Taehyung. Why?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Why are you so defensive?”

“Go be a pest elsewhere,” Taehyung cuts in, shoving Jimin away. Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says. “See you later, darling.” With his eyes still connected to Yoongi’s, he slides in close to Taehyung, rising up on his toes to whisper something in Taehyung’s ear. His hands rest on Taehyung’s chest for balance. Taehyung’s cheeks tinge pink.

“Should I leave,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Not at all.” Jimin throws him a flirty smile as he drops back down. He pats Taehyung on the chest. “Enjoy yourselves, boys.”

Then he strides off, blue hair bobbing gently.

“Ah, yes,” Taehyung says, clearing his throat. “That’s Jimin. Who you’ve now met. Ignore him; he’s a pest. Don’t listen to anything he says.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, when he really wants to ask what the history is there. But it’s not his business. He’s here to pay Taehyung back and make people mad. That’s it.

“Let’s head in,” Taehyung says, snagging a honey-gold wine off a passing waiter with antlers curling out of his head. “I wouldn’t want to miss Delfadessa’s opening speech.”

The whole Guild of the Guiding Light is obnoxious as hell, but the worst among them is Delfadessa. And what kind of name is that, anyway? Four syllables is too many. He sounds like he’s just stepped out of Ancient Greece after sacrificing twenty virgins on a full moon.

He’d also somehow been friends with Yoongi’s father. His mother, at least, hadn’t liked him. But it still gave Delfadessa leave to pester Yoongi all the fucking time. In his eyes, at least. Yoongi can’t stand the guy.

They make their way through the crowd and, sure enough, Delfadessa steps onto the platform just as they edge to the front.

“Mages and friends of New York!” His voice booms out across the hall, magically enhanced. “Thank you all for gathering with me on this night! It’s my pleasure as Guild Master to welcome you all to the 310th annual ball!”

“Jackass,” Yoongi mutters, rolling his eyes. Taehyung nudges him but Jimin, on his other side, throws him a lightning-fast smirk. The rest of Delfadessa’s speech goes on in the same vein – praising his own work, waxing poetic about the guild, commending the next generation of mages coming out of the Academy, exaggerating about the same rising darkness Chaeseon had mentioned.

He ends it in a way only someone called Delfadessa could.

“Let the celebrations commence!” he booms and throws his hands up. Bright lights like fireworks come shooting out, gathering at the ceiling and turning into the outline of a herd of horses. The horses rear and start galloping, slanting down over the guests’ heads before exploding into rainbows at the end of the hall. The crowd cheers. Yoongi wants to put his head through a wall.

“I need more alcohol for this shit.”

Taehyung laughs. “You should have seen him two years ago. He had these giant bowls of water and oil suspended above the crowd, lit them on fire and made them dance. Except one of the bindings broke and it just so happened to be the one above him. He got soaked.”

“Broke,” Jimin snorted. “By accident.”

“All for a good cause.”

They mingle for a while after that. It’s all somewhat anticlimactic. Taehyung seems to be friendly with everyone. No one likes Yoongi, but they’re at least somewhat polite in front of Taehyung.

Watching Taehyung work the room is an experience. Yoongi doesn’t say much but never feels like he needs to. Taehyung keeps each conversation flowing as if it’s easy. He remembers things about every person he talks to and they all seem to love him. They all start off wary of Yoongi but when he doesn’t say anything, seem to settle down.

It’s weird.

Yoongi hasn’t worked out why Taehyung would even want him here at all. He’s not doing anything.

Eventually, with a nice buzz going on from all the glasses of wine he’s downed, he has to pee. It’s on the way back that Delfadessa steps into his path.

“Min Yoongi.” He’s got some kind of grandiose accent going on, despite having grown up in New York. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in the crowd earlier. You’ve been ignoring my invitations for years.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“It’s good you’re here,” Delfadessa continues as if Yoongi never spoke. “We need a strong magic like yours with us, now more than ever. Chaeseon mentioned she’d spoken to you a few weeks ago?”

Yoongi’s lips thin. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told her – I’m not interested in your bullshit.”

“If you don’t feel it, you’re deluding yourself. Someone’s gathering a lot of dark magic and it’s not going to end well for anyone here.”

“That sounds like it’s a you problem. Guild Master, and all that?”

“The point of the guild is to pool our resources to stop any more catastrophic events from happening. It doesn’t work if we’re all fragmented and don’t come together.”

“I’m not part of your guild.”

“Your parents would’ve wanted you to—”

“Don’t you dare talk about what they would’ve wanted,” Yoongi hisses, surging forward. “They’re dead.”

Delfadessa doesn’t look concerned at all.

“They are, and it’s a tragedy no matter what anyone says. Mara, too. She was a strong witch and a good ally to have on our side. A tragedy. But we have a duty to safeguard the people of New York—”

“Oh god, spare me this superhero bullshit,” Yoongi groans. “Save it for someone in awe of your shitty magic tricks.”

“We could use your help at the Academy. There’s a lot you could teach those kids.”

“You want me to be near your precious children? You’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, Delfadessa. I’m sure you were convinced the dark magic was coming from me until you had Chaeseon check.”

Delfadessa doesn’t address his last statement at all, instead saying, “You’re the best exorcist we have; the best at blood magic. You need to spread that knowledge around and not hoard it to yourself.”

This is something Yoongi has learnt a long time ago – everyone wants something from you, no matter what. Everyone’s the hero of their own story and they’re okay trampling over you to get to the top, as long as they can justify it to themselves.

“That’s because the rest are dead, possessed, working against you or sick of your bullshit. And I don’t really blame them. You’re just a knock-off Gandalf but without the cool beard.”

Delfadessa’s lips thin, his mask finally slipping into annoyance.

“Chaeseon’s convinced there’s light in you. That you’re not hellbound like everyone else thinks and that the blood magic hasn’t corrupted you. But mark my words, Min Yoongi – stray fully into the dark and I’ll happily put you down like the runt you are. Parents or not, knowledge or not.”

Yoongi leans in close. His voice is low and thrumming with anger when he says, “I’d like to see you try.”

Because that’s the thing about magic – the more powerful the magic is, the more you need to sacrifice. Your own blood is one of the most powerful sacrifices of all and Yoongi just so happens to have an endless supply of his own.

And by the look in Delfadessa’s eyes, fear mixing with hatred, he knows he can’t cross Yoongi without coming out worse.

“Delfadessa!” Taehyung’s suddenly there, sliding an arm around Yoongi. The atmosphere, buzzing with tension, breaks. Taehyung is a strong, steady presence beside him. “This event is incredible! The horses, the fireworks, oh my god. You’ll have to teach me one day!”

Delfadessa’s eyes snag on the arm around Yoongi’s waist. His jaw clenches.

“Kim Taehyung,” he says. His voice has lost that hard edge, though. Just like everyone else in the world, he seems to like Taehyung. “That display is perhaps… out of your capabilities. I’m sure we can come up with a more small-scale substitute, though. I’m always happy to share my knowledge.”

Yoongi scoffs but his eyes catch on Taehyung’s face. His face still has that open, shining smile on it, but there’s lines of tension around his eyes. He’s pissed off.

“Oh, only if you have the time, I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Mmm.” Delfadessa’s eyes keep dipping down to the arm around Yoongi’s waist. “Does your grandmother know about this little development here?”

“This development? As in me wanting to learn about the horse illusion? Well, I haven’t spoken to her yet tonight so I don’t think she knows. Do you think she’d be better to teach me? I’ll have to ask her. You know how she is, she’ll be excited about me taking an interest in any kind of learning—”

“No.” Delfadessa’s brow is furrowed in annoyance but he’s obviously trying not to let it show. “You. Here with…” He waves his hand at Yoongi.

Taehyung looks confused. “With…?” He looks around, glancing behind Yoongi. “Oh, wait, you mean Yoongi? This Yoongi?” He points at Yoongi. Delfadessa’s frown deepens.

“Yes. This Yoongi.”

“Oh, oops, sorry. I just assumed we were still talking about the illusion. So wait, what about Yoongi?”

For once in his life, Yoongi struggles to keep his usual bland expression on his face. Delfadessa’s face is going red but Taehyung just looks absolutely clueless.

“Does your grandmother know you’re here with Min Yoongi?” Delfadessa grits out.

“I’m not sure.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side, looking like a confused puppy. “Should I tell her? Would you like me to tell her? She probably knows; she knows everything. But I haven’t seen her tonight. She hasn’t been by the store in the past few days, either, soI haven’t had the chance to tell her. Is there something going on with the guild? Is that why I should tell her?”

It’s like a tidal wave of words, rushed through and leaving both Delfadessa and Yoongi blinking.

“Ah, no,” Delfadessa says. “Nothing’s going on with the guild. I’m sure you’ll see her later. And speaking of, how is your little store going, anyway?”

Yoongi is fascinated at this weird wrestling of power, back and forth. Yoongi’s sure Delfadessa doesn’t realise Taehyung’s playing into this ditzy stereotype, but the man just wants to feel in control of anything. Probably has a small dick.

The arm around Yoongi’s waist clenches, but that’s the only indication of Taehyung’s annoyance. Taehyung’s face is nothing but open, still, a smile on his face.

“It’s going so well, thanks for asking! This week we found a statue that makes the owner do nothing but masturbate until they die of starvation. Or until their dick falls off. I’d be happy to let you examine it anytime, especially if it can help further your own studies.”

“Taehyung,” Delfadessa sighs. He’s really selling himself as the world-weary professor now. Maybe Yoongi should’ve called him a knock-off Dumbledore. “Once you’ve finished this childish phase of yours, you know I’d be happy to have you back at the Academy with your brother. Such a bloodline shouldn’t go to waste.”

“I’m sure,” Taehyung says. “Always a pleasure to talk to you. Avoid any large pots of water and oil, especially if they’re hanging.”

Arm still around his waist, Taehyung pulls Yoongi away.

“Ugh,” he says. “Little store. What an asshole. He makes me want to take a shower every time I have to talk to him. Gross. I don’t know how halmeoni deals with him all the time. And he’s convinced the store is something beneath me.”

Yoongi frowns. “Who is your grandmother, anyway?” Delfadessa mentioned her too many times for Yoongi to feel comfortable. Anyone that Delfadessa talks about with familiarity is someone he should avoid.

“You don’t know?” Taehyung looks at him in surprise. “She’s over there talking to Jimin. She said you’d met.”

Jimin’s baby blue hair isn’t hard to find in the crowd. He’s bent over slightly, flirting with a much shorter woman. Her hair is permed back from her face, three strings of pearls around her neck. All around are suits and floor-length dresses, but she’s just in a long, patterned skirt and those rubber shoes.

“Choi Chaeseon? That meddling old woman is your grandmother?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up. “I haven’t heard anyone ever call her that. Makes sense.”

Yoongi’s mind flies back to the last time he’d seen the woman, two weeks or so ago. She’d been rambling about some dark future. She’d also mentioned a grandson.

Dammit.

He’s stalking over there before he realises it.

“Min Yoongi,” she says, looking up from her conversation and smiling kindly. “How lovely to see you. You decided to help my grandson afterall?”

“‘Help’?” Taehyung repeats, coming up behind him. “What?”

“This is your grandson?” Yoongi snaps, stabbing a finger at Taehyung.

“Last I checked,” she says. “I believe so. Forgive me if my memory is failing in my old age.”

“Halmeoni, no,” Taehyung gasps, following closely behind him. “What did you do?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Kim Taehyung.” Chaeseon sniffs, shifting her pearls into a new position. “I did as any concerned grandparent would. I found the best person to help.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Taehyung says. “I’m fine! How did you even find out!”

“Wait. You’re the paranoid grandson?” Yoongi cuts in, the rest of the conversation finally coming back to him. “The one who thinks someone is following him?”

“I’m not— paranoid— ugh, Jimin! You ratted me out to my halmeoni? What the hell?”

“Don’t bring me into this weird clusterfuck.” Jimin’s hands fly up and he inches back. “All I did was tell your grandma about that guy that came in. He freaked you out but you wouldn’t do anything about it! I know you’ve been jumping at shadows for weeks. I’ve seen you!”

Taehyung stabs a finger at Jimin. “We’re going to have a conversation later about being my halmeoni’s informant. And you.” Taehyung turns to Chaeseon. “You have no right trying to hire someone behind my back! Especially him!”

Yoongi blinks then scowls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“He’s good at what he does,” Chaeseon says mildly. She doesn’t seem ruffled at all. “I trust him. I don’t trust many of the other peacocks in here. Their heads are so far up their asses they could lick their nostrils clean. Yoongi’s apart from all that.”

“You hired him because you know he’s my type!”

“What?” Yoongi says. He’s getting whiplash.

“Oh, forgive an old woman for wanting to see both her sonja in love and out of trouble. Yoongi is two birds with one stone. A good deal, yes? And he’s here, anyway. I was right!”

Taehyung makes an exasperated sound and the fight drains out of him.

“Stop meddling in my life, halmeoni,” Taehyung says. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “Or I’ll put you in a retirement home.”

“You can try.” Chaeseon leans in and pokes Taehyung with one bony finger. “But we both know I’ll be moving into your house when I’m ready. Retirement homes are a dumb American concept because their lazy kids won’t do their duty.”

“Halmeoni,” Taehyung says. “Please.”

She harrumphs. “You, Min boy. You’re going to help my grandson?”

“For the last time, I don’t need anyone’s help.” Taehyung’s lips are tight and he looks more serious than he has the whole night. “This conversation is done. Go harass Joon. I think I saw Seokjin with a ring earlier.”

Chaeseon gasps. “That devil! I told him to give me at least three days’ notice!” She frowns and hurries off.

“A ring?” Jimin pipes up. “Jin’s finally proposing?!”

“Of course not,” Taehyung says, following Chaeseon with his eyes until her tiny form disappears. “But there’s only a few things I can do to get her off my back. Jin and Namjoon in eternal married bliss is only for emergencies.”

“Oh, he’s going to murder you,” Jimin chortles.

“It’s fine. I’ll help out at the Academy for a few days and he’ll get over it.” Taehyung turns his eyes to Yoongi. “I had no idea she had approached you. Just ignore whatever she told you.”

Yoongi frowns. “Okay,” he says slowly, but doesn’t feel good about it.

Staying in his own lane is his personal philosophy. Don’t get involved unless there’s money involved. This is no different.

But it stays with him. For the rest of the night as Taehyung drags him to talk to different people, a hand on his waist or shoulder or even stroking through his hair at one point, he doesn’t stop thinking about it. Taehyung hasn’t seemed paranoid at all. He’s not the type to make something out of nothing. That means something had legitimately scared him, enough for Jimin to seek out help.

But why the fuck should Yoongi care? He’s here to piss off either Chaeseon or Delfadessa or someone else, Yoongi hasn’t quite worked out that part yet. This is just a transaction. He’s always had the ability to keep his thoughts separate before. He’s not going to trip up now.

“Dancefloor,” Taehyung gasps. They’ve just come down from the balcony level, back to the main hall. Delfadessa’s ridiculous podium has been taken away and replaced with a DJ deck. Various mages and magical creatures are already getting wild. It looks like a mosh pit from Yoongi’s worst nightmares.

“No,” Yoongi says.

He gets an eye-full of Taehyung’s puppy-dog eyes.

“Aw, c’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“No.”

“Just one song.” Taehyung steps closer, tilting his head and lowering his voice. “Please.”

His tone sends a thrum through Yoongi, pulling deep in his gut. As if from far away, he hears himself answering, “Fine.”

Taehyung’s face lights up and he wastes no time dragging Yoongi onto the floor. The lights are dim but purple-tinged, staining Taehyung’s hair violet. He wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist and drags him close. Yoongi has no choice but to awkwardly place his on Taehyung’s shoulders. It puts their faces so close together, all he can see is Taehyung.

“This is awkward,” Yoongi says. “I hate this.”

“It’s not awkward! It’s fun!”

They sway side-to-side to the beat, Taehyung more than Yoongi.

“I feel like I’m in high school. This is horrible.”

“Would you feel more comfortable if I grinded on you?”

Yoongi blinks. “What? No. Ah… no. No.”

A brilliant smile lights up Taehyung’s face.

“You were just thinking about it!”

“No, no I wasn’t.”

“Min Yoongi, did I just break your brain?”

“No!”

“So you’re not thinking about it? About me grinding on you?” Taehyung steps in even closer so their bodies are pressed together. His lips brush the sensitive skin just in front of Yoongi’s ear. “Are you saying you wouldn’t like that?”

It’s that fucking deep tone again. Yoongi lets out a rush of breath.

“What do you want me to say? Yes?”

Taehyung’s hands drop down his back, settling lower on his hips.

“Of course I want you to say yes,” he says. His lips come up and graze along the piercings in Yoongi’s ear. “I like these. A lot.” There’s three, one stud and two hoops. The last hoop has a tiny chain that dangles off it. It’s nothing like the earrings Taehyung favours, where they’re long enough to graze his shoulders, but it’s the fanciest he has.

“Me too,” he says lamely, but what the fuck else is he meant to say? Taehyung this close is making all coherent thought melt. His arms slide around Taehyung’s shoulders, drawing him even closer.

Yoongi exhales shakily when he feels Taehyung’s lips ghost down his neck. With his head ducked into Yoongi’s shoulder, Yoongi can feel his breath fanning against his collar.

Taehyung says against his neck, “I want—”

“Gotcha!” A flash goes off. “Ha! Necking like school kids on the DF.” It’s Jimin, eyes on his phone and crowing gleefully. “Straight into the group chat! Hey Min Yoongi, what’s your number? Wait, nevermind, Jeongguk just added you in.”

Right on cue, Yoongi’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket.

“Jimin,” Taehyung says. “I’m going to disown you.”

“Too late!” he giggles. “Damage has been done! That’s what you get! Hey Min Yoongi, I’d watch out for hickies. You’ve got pale as fuck skin and a hickey is humiliating for anyone over the age of 16.”

“You brat!” Taehyung lunges at Jimin but he takes off, still squawking laughter. He turns back to Yoongi. His cheeks are pink, arms hanging at his sides uselessly. “Well, uh... the moment’s ruined I guess?”

Yoongi stares at the crowd that Jimin disappeared into. Then looks back at Taehyung. Did he really just get caught almost necking on the dancefloor?

He blurts something out at the same time as Taehyung.

“Ah, I should probably go—”

“Come.” And Taehyung’s grabbing him by the wrist and they’re moving through the crowd. Colourful dresses pass by, pointed antlers – Yoongi bumps into a scaled wing but doesn’t get time to say anything as Taehyung tugs him along. The light is still dark with flashes of blue and purple in time with the pounding music.

Taehyung drags him up the stairs to the balcony, but then they keep going. Up another floor and through a door they’re definitely not meant to go through.

It’s dark. Quiet. The music still thrums up through the ground, but it’s muted. The arched windows lining the wall let in enough moonlight to make out statues, paintings on the wall. Some kind of museum?

“Taehyung, what the fu—”

“Aren’t you meant to be a badass?” Taehyung teases. His voice is quiet to match the sudden silence. Lower. More husky. He throws a smirk over his shoulder. Yoongi’s mouth dries.

Taehyung doesn’t stop, though. He glances around then leads them through the room, pace picking up. They duck into another room.

Yoongi stops.

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung spins around with a grin.

“Fine. They probably won’t find us here.”

“What—”

Taehyung steps forward and kisses him. Hands framing his face, head tilting so his nose just brushes his cheek as his tongue licks into his mouth. And Yoongi is—

Frozen. His hands are stuck to his sides, his breath is stuck in his chest. Stuck, until he’s not, and then he’s grabbing onto Taehyung’s lapels and tugging him closer. Taehyung huffs out a laugh into his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi breathes between kisses. It makes Taehyung break away, throwing his head back to laugh louder. The line of his throat is long, golden. Yoongi wants to sink his teeth into it. He doesn’t, though. Not yet. His fingers clench into Taehyung’s jacket and he pushes him back. Taehyung’s still laughing as he hits the wall, eyes crinkled and warm and fixed solely on Yoongi.

Yoongi closes the distance and fits their bodies together again, tilting up to catch the rest of Taehyung’s dying laughter.

It shouldn’t surprise him that kissing Taehyung is just as bright and intense as the man himself. Taehyung’s full attention is a heady thing. He kisses with single-minded determination, adamant on discovering what makes Yoongi shudder. His hands are in constant motion, smoothing down his waist, tapping on his hips, skimming that curve where his back becomes his ass.

“Cute.” Taehyung draws back slightly to press light kisses to the corner of his lips. “So cute.”

Yoongi’s hand in Taehyung’s hair tightens into a fist, jerking his mouth away.

“Don’t be patronising.” Yoongi scowls. Taehyung’s eyes are lit with fire, smirk wide. The awkward position Yoongi’s got him in just makes his jawline stand out even more. Yoongi wants to bite it.

“Stop being so cute, then.”

Yoongi’s scowl deepens. So he does bite him, digging his teeth into his neck for just a moment before sucking a kiss onto it. He can feel Taehyung’s breath stuttering out against his lips. He lets go of his grip on Taehyung’s hair but his head stays back like that, weak against the wall.

“I should tell Jinnie that you two share a neck fascination,” Taehyung says.

Yoongi stops.

“Are you trying to kill the mood?”

Taehyung smirks. He looks lazy and debauched leaning against the wall, lips red and wet. His knee tilts forward and brushes against Yoongi’s crotch, who jumps.

“I don’t think I’ve killed any mood here,” he drawls.

“Fucking brat,” Yoongi says, but pulls him close again. He ends up exploring Taehyung’s mouth again, with a leg on either side of Taehyung’s knee. They fall into each other, gaining rhythm again. Taehyung’s hands skim down to Yoongi’s ass.

It takes Yoongi a moment to realise Taehyung’s nudging him and Yoongi’s hips are already following, rocking up against his leg.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, because it’s weird and surely he’s grown past the stage where he wants to rub off on another guy’s leg?

“Problem?” Taehyung says. Yoongi cracks open his eyes – didn’t even realise they were closed – and sees Taehyung’s smirk again.

And he should say yes. But Taehyung’s fingers are long and gripping his ass, encouraging him, and the friction is so good.

He tries to say something. He does. His mouth falls open but all that comes out is a stuttered breath, carrying the edge of a moan. Taehyung’s face lights up.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” he mumbles. He presses kisses along Yoongi’s jaw with the words.

And then Taehyung’s hand is at his waist, skimming along, reaching his fly. Yoongi’s eyes fly up to meet Taehyung’s. Taehyung cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Scared someone’ll walk in on us?” he asks, mirth heavy in his voice.

And Yoongi should know better by now. He shouldn’t be this easy to goad. He normally isn’t. But… well.

He shoves Taehyung back so he falls back against the wall again. And then he gets on his knees.

Taehyung’s eyes widen.

“I don’t think I really meant th—”

“Shut up,” Yoongi says, working quickly at his pants and shoving them down.

Taehyung is hard. His dick springs free. Yoongi takes him in hand, keeping his eyes on Taehyung’s face.

Taehyung’s eyes are intense, staring down at him. This isn’t a good angle on anyone, yet Taehyung still looks gorgeous. Especially with his mouth open slightly, tongue darting out at the edge.

Yoongi gives him a few strokes. Taehyung’s eyes darken. Yoongi leans forward and stops just far enough that only his breath fans onto him.

“Yoongi.”

There we go. Yoongi smiles, then tilts his head to run his tongue up the side. Taehyung lets out a breath of air that has the barest hint of a moan to it. Yoongi loves it. He wants to hear what that deep voice sounds like absolutely wrecked.

He starts slowly, mouthing at the side and stroking what his mouth can’t get to. Taehyung’s hand comes down, pushing back his hair. When Yoongi finally takes him into his mouth, the fingers in his hair tighten.

Yoongi loves giving head. He also loves receiving – who wouldn’t – but there’s something inherently powerful about being on his knees in front of a hot guy and still having all the power. He likes figuring out what the guy likes, what makes his eyes darken and his breath leave in a hiss. Taehyung’s no different.

Yoongi bobs his head, taking him in as far as his throat allows. He fits a little more each time. Every so often, he flicks his eyes up to make sure Taehyung’s still paying attention. The look he’s sending him is borderline worshipful and Yoongi memorises it.

“Your mouth,” Taehyung breaths. His fingers trail down to his jaw. Yoongi stops bobbing, instead just sucking on the head while his hand goes down his spit-slicked length. Taehyung’s fingers trace around his stretched lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean it. It’s not just my dick talking.”

Yoongi pops off. “Keep that shit up and I’ll leave you with blue balls, swear to god.”

Taehyung smiles. “There’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”

Yoongi’s angry rejoinder is cut off by Taehyung slipping his thumb into Yoongi’s mouth, stretching out his lips at the end.

“Beautiful,” he says again when Yoongi swirls his tongue around his thumb. Yoongi tilts his head back and Taehyung’s hand falls to the side.

“You’re an idiot,” Yoongi says. “I’m already on my knees for you, you don’t need to say anything else.”

He doesn’t want to hear Taehyung’s reply. He bends and swallows Taehyung’s cock down again.

“So, ah, misguided,” Taehyung says. His words end in a low moan.

Yoongi’s done with talking and feelings and bullshit. None of that is going to take away his love of making another man come undone, especially since Taehyung is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen it happen to.

There’s something delicate about Taehyung’s face normally, but now it’s flawless. His lips are bitten red, parted to let through heavy breaths. His eyes are hooded but no less intense for it. His cheekbones and jawline cut sharp angles on his face in a way that’s never the same twice when Yoongi looks. Having the complete focus of someone as vibrant of Taehyung is heady.

Yoongi feels drunks off of it.

“I’m close,” Taehyung gasps out. His hands are carding through Yoongi’s hair again, not guiding his head but scratching enough to make him shiver.

Yoongi pulls off but keeps his lips at the end. His hand works at Taehyung’s length, stroking and twisting.

When Taehyung comes, he squeezes his eyes shut, throws his head back and lets out a jerking, breathy moan. His come spills out, coating Yoongi’s lips and hand and neck.

This is what’s beautiful – Taehyung boneless against the wall, head lolled to the side, eyes closed. Yoongi just watches him for a moment, chest rising and falling gently. He shifts, and winces. His own dick reminds him that he’s very much hard as hell. He presses down, biting his lip to smother any sound.

“What… c’mere,” Taehyung says. His hands grasp Yoongi’s shoulders, tugging him back up.

“Uh, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” Taehyung says, grin lazy as he parrots Yoongi’s words back at him. His fingers work at Yoongi’s pants.

“I can—”

Taehyung’s hand wraps around his cock and all his words leave him in a sigh. After nothing, Taehyung’s hand feels amazing.

Then it’s gone.

“Lick,” Taehyung says, holding his palm out.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. Taehyung wiggles his palm.

Yoongi keeps his eyes locked on Taehyung as he cranes his head forward, letting his tongue drag up Taehyung’s palm. Taehyung’s eyes are smokey and intense.

“Why, thank-you,” Taehyung murmurs, leaning down to peck the side of Yoongi’s mouth. Before Yoongi can complain about his cringiness again, Taehyung’s hand is on him again but this time it’s wet and warm and good. Yoongi’s breath comes shuddering out.

Taehyung works him fast, his hand sleek. His teeth nip down the side of Yoongi’s neck, tiny pinprick counterpoints.

Yoongi doesn’t last long. Barely a few minutes pass, the only sounds Yoongi’s harsh breath and the slick noise of Taehyung’s hand. And then Yoongi’s coming, body tightening up, toes curling, panting out a moan right in Taehyung’s ear.

He feels floaty, drifting. Body heavy and mind flat. He comes back down to Taehyung tucking him into his pants and… wiping his hand off on Yoongi’s shirt?

“What the fuck?” Yoongi grumbles, knocking Taehyung’s hand away. He picks up his shirt. And yep, that’s come smeared on the inside of his shirt. “This is my nice shirt, what the fuck!”

Taehyung shrugs, grinning. “Mine’s expensive.”

“And mine’s not?”

“Yoongi, c’mon. I live with Jimin. I can spot a department store shirt from a mile away.”

Yoongi wants to be cranky, but he’s just come so he’s really, really not. Plus, his eyes are transfixed on a white smudge next to Taehyung’s lips. He remembers that not much of Taehyung’s come had actually made it into his mouth.

“Missed a spot,” he says, leaning forward and licking up the side of Taehyung’s face. Taehyung tilts his head and they’re kissing again.

Yoongi thinks he could maybe kiss Taehyung all day. Taehyung’s good at it, rhythmic, and he smells fresh and vibrant in a way that’s less to do with cologne and more just him.

They jolt apart when the stairway door bangs closed. They hear drunken giggles, stumbling steps. A long-legged woman trailing glittering wings stumbles past the doorway, dragging another girl after her.

They both stay completely still as they listen to the pair move further away.

Taehyung snorts a giggle, thunking his head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder.

“We almost got caught by a pixie, oh my god. And my hand feels crusty. Oh god.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and pushes Taehyung’s head off his shoulder. He doesn’t really think too much about it when he grabs Taehyung’s wrist and pulls him along.

“We passed a bathroom. Come on.”

Afterwards, once Yoongi has scrubbed his shirt and wiped down his face and Taehyung has scrubbed his hands, they’re standing across from one another outside. The post-coital bliss is fading and Yoongi… well, he knows what this is. He knew from the start what he was getting into. But now Yoongi’s paid Taehyung back and he’d even gotten an orgasm out of it.

“Oh, that’s embarrassing.”

Yoongi follows Taehyung’s gaze. He’s staring at the trees lining the street. The trees that are now… in full bloom.

In autumn.

The red leaves are still mixed in, but now white flowers are shooting out everywhere.

Yoongi turns to Taehyung.

“Your orgasm made the trees flower.”

Taehyung bites his lip and nods, even if it wasn’t a question.

Yoongi stares at him a moment before sighing. What the fuck has he gotten himself into.

“That’s not very fail witch of you.”

Taehyung’s eyes fly back to Yoongi’s and he grins. “Don’t tell Delfadessa. Or, actually, maybe do tell him you gave me head at his previous event. It’ll be funny.”

Yoongi looks at Taehyung, at his shining eyes and smile and the way energy seems to radiate off him. And he realises he may be somewhat fucked.

“I, uh… I should head home,” Yoongi says, because at the end of the day he’s hellbound and fucking ruined and Taehyung is… Taehyung.

“Oh,” Taehyung says, smiling fading. “Right.”

Yoongi’s mouth opens and words just spew out. “Yeah, I’m um. A few blocks away. So. Bye.”

He gives a jerky wave – what the fuck – and leaves.

“Wait, Yoongi!”

Taehyung jogs after him, sidestepping Yoongi and planting himself in his path.

“I didn’t say thank you. For tonight.”

Yoongi wants to crawl out of his skin. This is shit and awkward and he’s still got the taste of Taehyung at the back of his throat, no matter how much water he gargled in that bathroom. He’s getting fantasies of slithering down a storm drain and living out the rest of his shitty existence in the sewers.

“You’re… welcome? I guess.” What the fuck is the right way to answer that? Did everyone else learn this in school? Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised; Mara’s home-schooling wasn’t exactly… first-rate. “You gave me the ring information, so…”

“Right, yes, of course,” Taehyung says, bouncing on his heels. “Payment. But… I know it was pretty not-fun for you, with Delfadessa and the rest of the assholes. I appreciate you coming, payment or not. This is probably the most fun I’ve had at one.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, because yeah, getting your dick sucked would make an event kind of great. But Taehyung’s eyes are wide and sincere and Yoongi knows he’s probably not talking about that. “Can’t really say the same? Never been to one. Won’t go to one again. Don’t really see why you’d want me there.” Taehyung’s smile dims slightly, so Yoongi forces himself to say, “Apart from the dick sucking. But it wasn’t, uh, bad, I guess.”

Taehyung’s surprised laugh peals out into the night. His shoulder shake from the force of it, eyes shining. Yoongi feels his own mouth wanting to twitch upwards. Warmth spreads through him.

“Woah, what a five-star rating,” Taehyung says. Yoongi feels light. “Can I put that on my Grindr profile? ‘Wasn’t bad, I guess’.”

“Fuck off,” Yoongi mumbles, shoving at his shoulder. Taehyung giggles.

“Is this a special kind of Yoongi rating system? What’d you rate the blowjob, then? I need to get a baseline.”

“Fuck off.” Yoongi’s cheeks are red now. Dammit.

“I guess I’ll have to ask afterwards, next time.” Yoongi blinks. Next time? “Anyway, feel free to drop by the House of Mystery whenever you’re in the area. Bring treats for Yeontan, he likes baby carrots.”

“What— he’s a dog.”

“Is he?” Taehyung asks, eyes sparkling. “Huh. Well, g’night, Yoongi. Thanks again. Don’t run into any monsters on your way home.” He steps in close and presses a kiss to the side of Yoongi’s mouth. Then turns and walks away.

Yoongi’s left staring after him. And just like any other encounter with Taehyung, he’s left thinking what the actual fuck.