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Chapter Text

Kim Taehyung had always loved the quiet hum of his café at night. The soft glow of pendant lights bathed the wooden interiors in warmth, blending seamlessly with the aroma of fresh espresso and pastries cooling on the counter. The evening crowd had long faded, leaving only the muffled sounds of distant traffic and the occasional rustling of autumn leaves against the glass windows.

He exhaled, pushing up the sleeves of his cream-colored sweater as he wiped down the tables. The café had become more than just a business—it was his sanctuary, a place where time slowed just enough for him to appreciate the little things. As he moved toward the front door, reaching for the closed sign, an uneasy chill settled in the air. He paused, glancing toward the alley outside, where the streetlights flickered intermittently. The shadows beyond seemed thicker tonight, unnaturally pooled between the brick walls, shifting as though they were alive.

A strange feeling crept up his spine, instinct whispering for him to turn away. But before he

could react—

A low growl.

The sound was deep, guttural, unlike anything he'd ever heard. Taehyung’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening as he stepped backward, eyes scanning the darkness. The alley should have been empty. And yet—there was something there.

A figure moved between the shadows, sleek and fast.

Taehyung barely had time to register the unnatural speed before the figure lunged. The impact sent him crashing onto the wooden floor, his body colliding with the fallen chairs. Pain exploded through his shoulder as razor-sharp teeth sunk into his flesh. A strangled cry escaped his lips. His vision blurred, the edges turning hazy as warm blood seeped through his sweater. He gasped, trying to push the attacker away, but his limbs felt sluggish, his strength draining with each second.

The rogue vampire above him snarled, eyes gleaming with hunger, its grip tightening around his wrists.

Taehyung fought to stay conscious, but the world was slipping away—his heartbeat

deafening in his ears.

Then, everything went black.

Chapter Text

Pain.   

A sharp, throbbing ache spread through Taehyung’s body, weaving between his muscles and bones like fire. He was barely aware of the sensation of movement, of hands gripping him firmly, carrying him through the cold night air.   

Something in his chest protested—an instinctive resistance to whatever was happening to him. But his body felt impossibly heavy, as though something was dragging him unconsciously.   

Faint voices surrounded him, deep and urgent.   

"He's barely breathing."   

A familiar voice. Gravelly, concerned.   

"His wounds—it's a rogue bite," another murmured, this one smoother, edged with restraint.   

"He won't survive unless we turn him."   

The weight of the words settled somewhere in the back of Taehyung's fading mind. Turn him. What does that mean?   

Something cool brushed against his forehead, grounding him, momentarily pulling him from the abyss. He wanted to speak, to ask what was happening, but no sound came from his lips.   

A presence lingered near him—a warmth in the midst of overwhelming cold.   

"Stay with us, darling."  

His consciousness flickered like a dying candle.   

That voice—it was oddly familiar, distant yet comforting.   

He barely managed to hold onto it before everything disappeared into silence.   

Chapter Text

Pain.   

It crawled through his body like ice, sharp and unforgiving. Every muscle ached, weighed down by something wrong, something unnatural.   

The dim flicker of candlelight pressed against his closed eyelids, coaxing him back into awareness. He wasn’t in his café. He wasn’t lying on the wooden floors where he had fallen.   

Slowly, Taehyung stirred, his fingers curling weakly into soft sheets.   

Muted voices whispered nearby.   

“He’s still out,” one voice murmured—soft but edged with quiet concern.   

“He will wake soon,” another replied, calmer, steadier. “His body is adjusting.”   

The words felt distant, muffled through the haze of his mind.   

Taehyung tried to move, but the instant his muscles strained, a sharp pain flared through his shoulder, stealing his breath. A quiet hiss slipped past his lips as he forced his eyes open.   

Candlelight greeted him first, shadows stretching across the wooden walls.   

Then—the figures seated near his bed.   

Two men.   

One was perched on the edge of a chair, posture relaxed yet watchful, his sharp eyes flickering toward Taehyung the moment he stirred. The other was standing beside the bed, his expression softer, brows furrowed in concern.   

Neither of them looked particularly human.   

Taehyung swallowed, his throat dry and burning. “Where—” His voice cracked, too hoarse, too unfamiliar.   

The one closest to him—the gentler-looking one—exchanged a glance with his companion before stepping closer.   

“You’re safe,” he said.   

Safe?   

Taehyung tried to sit up, but his limbs felt impossibly heavy, the effort alone stealing his strength. His breath hitched as his pulse thundered in his ears—but something was wrong.   

His heartbeat was slow.   

Too slow.   

Panic crept in.   

“What—” His voice wavered. “What happened?”   

The other man—the calmer one—sighed, resting his elbow against the chair’s armrest.   

“You were attacked by a rogue vampire,” he said simply.   

Vampire.   

Taehyung’s stomach lurched, memories returning in flashes—the alley, the shadows, the searing pain as teeth sunk into his flesh.   

“I should be dead,” he muttered.   

The first man’s gaze softened, but the second remained unreadable.   

“You’re not,” was all he said.   

Taehyung’s fingers dug into the sheets, his breath uneven.   

Something was terribly, horribly wrong.   

Then—the gentler man spoke again.   

“We had no choice but to turn you.”   

Turn.   

The word hit Taehyung like ice.   

A slow realization crept in, settling in his bones like poison.   

“I’m—” His voice faltered, horror creeping into his tone. “A vampire?”   

Neither man denied it.   

Taehyung’s breathing grew heavier, his throat tightening, his body screaming for something he didn’t understand.   

The calmer man exhaled. “You need blood.”   

Taehyung immediately shook his head, even as something deep inside him twisted with hunger.   

“No,” he said, his voice trembling.   

But the hunger was growing, gnawing at him, weakening his resolve.   

The calmer man didn’t argue, didn’t push—he simply reached for the glass vial placed on the bedside table, setting it within reach.   

“You will,” he said quietly.   

Not a demand. Not a threat.   

A certainty.   

Taehyung clenched his fists.   

Because deep down—he knew he was right.   

Chapter Text

Taehyung fights against the hunger, desperate to deny the truth of his new existence. Taehyung had spent hours fighting it.   

The hunger.   

It was unbearable now, clawing at his insides, twisting his senses into something unfamiliar.   

Jimin sat beside him, quiet but attentive, his presence as steady as the candlelight flickering across the walls. Jin remained close, observing but not pressuring. They understood the struggle, the pain of resisting what couldn’t be denied.   

“You don’t have to suffer like this,” Jimin murmured, his voice softer than before.   

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not—” He swallowed, the burn in his throat cutting his words short.   

Jimin exchanged a glance with Jin, something unspoken passing between them.  

Then—Jimin carefully rolled up his sleeve, exposing the delicate skin of his wrist.   

“You need blood,” Jin reminded him, his tone neither forceful nor cold. Simply a truth.   

Taehyung immediately stiffened, his breath catching.   

“I—” His voice cracked, shaking with resistance.   

Jimin offered him a reassuring look, no judgment, no impatience.   

“We’ll help you,” he said.   

Not just give him blood, but guide him through it, make sure he was okay.   

Taehyung hesitated—his body betraying him, his limbs trembling as his fingers shakily wrapped around Jimin’s wrist.   

The moment his fangs pressed against skin, the feeling was overwhelming.   

Warmth spread through him instantly, soothing the unbearable ache clawing through his veins. Relief crashed into him, pulling him deeper into sensation—shame and comfort intertwining.   

Jimin didn’t flinch.   

He simply rested his free hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, grounding him, and steadying him.   

“You’re okay,” Jimin whispered.   

Taehyung shuddered, breath uneven, guilt curling in his chest.   

But Jimin wasn’t pushing him away.   

When Taehyung finally pulled back, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling in steadying breaths.   

Jin’s voice cut through the silence—firm but calm.   

“See? We’re here for you.”   

 Taehyung didn’t answer, because deep down—he knew they were right.   

Chapter Text

Taehyung has fed twice now. Once from Jimin, then from Jin.   

And with each sip of blood, the world felt different.   

His senses sharpened—the dim candlelight seemed brighter; the distant rustle of leaves outside felt magnified. His body no longer ached, and the unbearable hunger had faded into something manageable, something controllable.   

But control was dangerous.   

Because even now, with his hunger subdued, there was a part of him that longed for more.   

Jin sensed his hesitation. That was why he had decided it was time for Taehyung to step outside.   

Tonight, Taehyung will leave the safety of his room for the first time.   

Jimin led the way, guiding him through the halls of the coven’s home—a sprawling space carved into the outskirts of the city, hidden beneath layers of wards and shadows. The air was still cold, yet Taehyung barely shivered.   

Then, they entered the grand study.   

The presence in the room hit him instantly.   

Two figures stood near the tall windows, candlelight reflecting off their sharp, defined features.   

The first one spoke—his voice deep, measured, authoritative.   

"You’re awake."   

Taehyung stiffened at the weight of his tone.   

This was Namjoon.   

There was something commanding about him—his stance, the way his eyes took Taehyung in with quiet calculation.   

Jimin exhaled beside him. "Namjoon, we—"   

"I know," Namjoon interrupted, sighing. "But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it."   

Taehyung frowned. "You didn’t want me here."   

Namjoon didn’t deny it. Instead, he glanced at the second figure—the one standing slightly behind him; eyes narrowed.   

This one had a colder, more unreadable expression.   

"You’re lucky Jin acted fast," he said.   

Taehyung finally caught his name as Jimin murmured, "Yoongi…"   

Something about Yoongi’s gaze felt heavier than Namjoon’s. As if he was watching, waiting, ready to judge him.   

"This coven isn’t supposed to be welcoming new members," Yoongi continued. "Especially not fledglings who didn’t choose this life."   

Taehyung clenched his fists, the words striking deeper than he expected.   

He didn’t choose this.   

But he was here now.   

Jimin stepped forward, voice softer but unwavering. "We couldn’t let him die."   

Namjoon sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked tired, but there was something restrained in his posture.   

"You have a lot to learn," he muttered, eyes locking onto Taehyung’s. "And you need to prove you belong here."   

The statement wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t an offer, either.   

This wasn’t going to be easy.   

Taehyung swallowed, steadying himself.   

"Then tell me what I need to do."   

Chapter Text

The coven home was vast, layered with rooms Taehyung had yet to explore.   

He hadn’t meant to wander far—just enough to stretch his legs, feel something beyond the spaces he had grown accustomed to.   

But as he turned into a dim hallway, he felt it before he saw it—the scent of old parchment, faint ink, candle wax.   

The library.   

He stepped inside cautiously, eyes adjusting to the soft flicker of lanterns illuminating endless rows of shelves. Books lined the walls, some leather-bound, others delicate with time, their weight pressing against the air like whispered stories left unread.   

Then—movement.   

Taehyung stiffened.   

There, seated near the grand window, a book open across his lap, was Namjoon.   

The leader didn’t look surprised.   

“You’re wandering,” Namjoon observed, his voice smooth and steady.   

Taehyung hesitated. "I—didn’t mean to come here."   

Namjoon exhaled, closing his book with deliberate ease.   

“Well. You’re here now."   

Taehyung shifted slightly, gaze flickering toward the shelves.   

"Can I—?" He gestured to a nearby stack.   

Namjoon nodded. “Choose something.”   

Taehyung settled across from Namjoon, eyes scanning the pages of an aged book.   

It told the story of a tyrant vampire prince, a ruler feared not for his cruelty, but for his unwavering precision, his quiet control over his kingdom.   

The more he read, the more his thoughts tangled in the tale.   

"Did he ever regret the weight of his rule?"   

The question lingered only in his mind—unspoken, unheard.   

Then—   

Namjoon sighed softly.   

"Yes."   

Taehyung froze, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes snapped up, shock bleeding into his expression.   

Namjoon hadn’t been looking at him, hadn’t seen the question written across his face.   

So how had he answered it?   

"You—" Taehyung hesitated. "How did you—?"   

Namjoon finally looked up, amusement flickering in his gaze.   

"You think very loudly."   

Time stretched, the soft flick of pages filling the silence.   

Taehyung had lost himself in the discussion—history, wars, old covens—but now, something else clawed at him.   

His throat burned.   

Namjoon noticed the shift before Taehyung said anything.   

"You need to feed," he stated, not unkind, just matter-of-fact.   

Taehyung hesitated.   

Feeding from Namjoon felt different, weighted with meaning.   

Namjoon didn’t push. He simply rolled up his sleeve, offering his wrist with quiet ease.   

Taehyung’s fingers shook slightly as they wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist.   

The moment his fangs pressed into Namjoon’s skin, warmth rushed through him—not just relief, but something deeper.   

A pull.   

Fragments of knowledge—thoughts flickering at the edges of his mind—something Taehyung absorbed beyond just blood.   

Namjoon tensed slightly, sensing it.   

When Taehyung pulled away, Namjoon was watching him closely.   

"You really are something," Namjoon murmured.   

Taehyung didn’t know what that meant.   

But something told him he’d find out soon.   

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Jungkook had been watching him, eyes flickering with something unreadable.   

"You ever tested your limits?" Jungkook asked casually, stretching his arms behind his head.   

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. "What kind of limits?"   

Jungkook smirked.   

Then, without warning, he grabbed Taehyung by the wrist and effortlessly pulled him off the ground, lifting him like he weighed nothing.   

Taehyung let out a sharp noise, shocked at how easily Jungkook handled his weight.   

"You see?" Jungkook grinned, setting him down like it had been nothing. "Strength isn’t just about force. It’s about knowing how to use it."   

Taehyung stared, realizing he was looking at something beyond normal vampire strength.   

Jungkook was built for power, every movement carrying an ease that shouldn’t be possible.   

"You fight me," Jungkook added, stepping back and rolling his shoulders. "You learn."   

Taehyung swallowed. "That feels unfair."   

Jungkook only laughed, stance shifting as he dropped into a fighting position.   

"I’ll go easy on you."   

Taehyung wasn't sure that was comforting.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

The fight wasn’t meant to be real—just a test, just a lesson.   

Jungkook was faster than expected, his strength natural, his instincts sharp. Every movement was clean, every strike controlled.   

Taehyung had to adapt quickly, learning not to match Jungkook’s power, but to avoid it.   

"You’re smart," Jungkook mused between dodges, eyes bright with approval.   

Taehyung barely had time to respond before Jungkook lunged again, and this time—Taehyung met him head-on.   

It wasn’t perfect, but it was bold.   

Jungkook let out a pleased laugh, catching Taehyung mid-air before setting him back down.   

"You’ll get there," Jungkook said, grinning. "But you should feed first."   

Taehyung hesitated.   

"You can take from me," Jungkook added easily, rolling up his sleeve.   

The moment Taehyung sank his fangs into Jungkook’s wrist, everything shifted.   

A surge of power, sharp and raw, spread through Taehyung’s muscles—his limbs tensed, strengthened, heavier with energy he hadn’t possessed before.   

His grip tightened without meaning to, his breath stretched, his body reacting to something primal.   

Jungkook felt it, watching him carefully.   

"You get stronger when you feed," Jungkook muttered.   

Taehyung pulled back, licking his lips slightly, his body feeling different.   

"I think I do," Taehyung admitted.   

Jungkook smirked, crossing his arms. "Then we’ll train harder next time."   

Taehyung wasn't sure if that was a promise or a threat.   

Chapter Text

The blood bag sat in front of him, untouched.  

The room was silent, save for the steady crackling of the fireplace—the glow casting flickering shadows along the walls.  

Everyone was watching.  

Not with judgment, but with expectation.  

They wanted answers.  

And Taehyung was the only one who could give them.  

Taehyung swallowed hard, fingers curling around the plastic.  

He had never taken blood from a human source—not like this, not extracted, not distant from the person who had given it.  

Jin spoke first. “Drink.”  

Taehyung hesitated.  

Then, slowly, he brought the bag to his lips.  

The first sip was instant relief, coating his throat, settling the hunger clawing at his ribs.  

But that was all.  

Relief.  

Nothing else.  

No warmth. No pull. No shift in sensation.  

Just blood.  

Nothing changed.  

The Coven’s Realization  

Taehyung exhaled, wiping his lips, his heartbeat steady—not racing, not surging with new energy.  

Namjoon leaned forward, watching him carefully. “You don’t feel different?”  

Taehyung shook his head slowly. “No.”  

Yoongi exhaled, crossing his arms. “Then it’s confirmed.”  

Jimin glanced between them, frowning slightly. “What is?”  

Namjoon sat back, processing.  

“He only absorbs abilities when he feeds directly,” he murmured. “From us. Not from humans.”  

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully. “That means whatever this is—it’s tied to vampire blood.”  

Taehyung felt the weight of the conclusion settle in the air.  

This wasn’t just a quirk of his transformation.  

It was something deeper.  

Something unexplored.  

Something dangerous.  

Chapter Text

Taehyung didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the kitchen, his gaze fixed on the sealed blood bag in front of him.  

He didn’t want it.  

Not because he wasn’t hungry—but because it didn’t taste right, didn’t feel right.  

Human blood was flat, cold, lifeless compared to drinking from a vampire.  

The coven expected him to adapt.  

But no one expected Jin to solve it like it was nothing.  

Jin was moving fluidly, hands working across ingredients like he wasn’t even thinking about them, his expression focused but relaxed.  

"Cooking isn’t just about food," Jin said casually, stirring the sauce. "It’s about balance. Flavor. Influence."  

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, watching as Jin poured the human blood into the mixture, blending it seamlessly.  

"You’re doing something," Taehyung muttered, sensing the shift, the way the room felt different.  

Jin smirked. "Of course I am."  

Then—something changed.  

Jin’s eyes flicked toward Taehyung, sharp and steady, his voice dropping just slightly as he said—  

“Try it.”  

The words hit differently.  

Not like a request.  

Not like an invitation.  

Like a command.  

Taehyung’s body reacted before he could even process it, his fingers already reaching for the spoon, his breath hitching the moment he realized he couldn’t stop himself.  

He took a bite.  

And everything shifted.  

The blood-infused sauce shouldn’t have tasted good.  

But it did.  

Warm. Layered. Rich in ways human blood never had been before.  

Taehyung’s heartbeat slowed, his body settling, the unease that had lingered since the blood restrictions fading just slightly.  

Then—his breath hitched again.  

He stared at the spoon, then at Jin, shock creeping in.  

"You—" Taehyung swallowed hard. "You made me do that."  

Jin smirked, leaning forward slightly, his presence heavier now.  

"I didn’t mean to," Jin admitted. "But yes. You listened."  

Taehyung felt his pulse hammering, realization crashing into him.  

Jin didn’t just suggest things—his voice carried weight, something deeper than mere persuasion.  

It wasn’t control. It wasn’t force.  

But Taehyung had listened without questioning. Without hesitating.  

It was as if obeying Jin felt natural, like something ingrained into the very air around him.  

Taehyung swallowed, his pulse slow but heavy.  

Jin is more powerful than he expected.   

Chapter Text

The streets stretched before them, alive with shifting neon and murmured conversations, a steady pulse of city life. Taehyung walked alongside Jin and Namjoon, his fingers grazing the bracelet absently, the cool metal pressing against his skin. A quiet reminder. A defense.

Jin had slipped it onto his wrist without much ceremony, but there had been a flicker in his gaze—something unreadable, something that hinted at preparation rather than precaution.

"It’ll block magic meant to harm you," Jin had told him before they left the coven’s home.

Taehyung hadn’t questioned it. Not then.

But now, walking through streets he used to know, something about the bracelet felt out of place—not because it was wrong, but because this city had never required his protection before.

They moved toward the council district, weaving past late-night cafes and dimly lit storefronts. The roads were familiar, yet everything felt farther away, distant despite their closeness.

Taehyung barely noticed when his steps began to slow.

His body lingered rather than followed.

The scent of roasted coffee drifted toward him—the same café he used to frequent before closing up shop for the night. A bookstore on the corner had stacked its new releases near the window, its soft glow spilling onto the pavement. The florist beside it still had the same arrangement of dried lavender hanging by the entrance.

His world hadn’t changed.

But he had.

His breath steadied, his movements unconsciously shifting—his instincts pulling him toward something.

The council district was just ahead.

But his apartment building was closer.

His feet carried him forward before he realized he was leaving Jin and Namjoon behind.

The city blurred for a moment, colors dimming under his focus. Taehyung hadn’t stepped foot in this neighborhood since that night.

The warmth of his café. The stillness of the alley. The pain.

His pulse picked up slightly.

Then—

He saw someone standing near the entrance of his building.

A figure, familiar yet unexpected in this moment.

Chest rising and falling steadily, shoulders slightly slumped with exhaustion—but waiting.

Waiting for him.

Taehyung’s breath hitched.

"Taehyung?"

Soobin.

~~~~~~

For a moment, Soobin just stared.

He was standing near the entrance of Taehyung’s building, hood pulled up against the evening chill, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His posture was tense, exhaustion visible in the slight slump of his shoulders—but his eyes flickered with disbelief.

"You’re actually here."

Taehyung opened his mouth, but no words came.

Because this moment—this entire reunion—wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Soobin had waited for him. Every week. Just in case.

And now, Taehyung was finally here.

Soobin had always treated Taehyung like his hyung, despite technically working for him.

At the café, it had never felt like a rigid boss-staff relationship. Soobin had been the one teasing Taehyung when he got too serious about perfecting latte art, the first to stay late when he saw Taehyung exhausted, cleaning tables without being asked.

"You overthink too much, hyung." Soobin had muttered once, flipping the café’s closed sign while Taehyung perfected an espresso shot for the hundredth time. "Just let it be. It tastes good."

That was the kind of person Soobin was. Reliable. Patient. Someone who never made Taehyung feel alone.

And now—he was standing outside Taehyung’s building. Waiting for him all this time. He ran to him and hugged him.

“Where have you been all this time hyung? I looked for you everywhere. I waited for you to comeback and tried to see if you’ll show up here on your apartment.” Soobin cried.

“I miss you too kiddo, but let’s bring this upstairs, okay?” The two went up the staircase but immediately noticed that something’s off.

The air shifted, subtle but suffocating.

The front door hung slightly ajar, just enough for doubt to curl at the edges of his mind.

Soobin frowned, noticing it too. "Did you forget to lock up?"

Taehyung’s stomach twisted. No.

He hadn’t been here since that night.

He never came back to lock anything.

His hand tightened at his side.

The door hadn’t been left open.

Someone had opened it.

The moment they stepped through the entrance, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

Not abandoned. Not cold.

But preserved.

The furniture remained untouched. His keys were still sitting on the counter—exactly where he had left them before heading to the café that night.

Nothing had changed.

Except someone was here.

Watching. Waiting.

Soobin exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the hallway. "It looks exactly the same," he murmured.

Taehyung’s pulse thrummed in his ears. "It shouldn’t."

And then—

A voice slipped from the shadows, low, amused.

"You came back."

Soobin barely had time to react.

Something fast, sharp, merciless slammed against his chest, sending him crashing into the wall.

Taehyung moved before he could think, instincts surging through him as the air cracked with tension.

The Rogue stepped forward, posture too casual, too expectant.

"You wandered right into it," he mused, eyes flickering between Taehyung and Soobin, assessing. Calculating.

Soobin groaned, trying to sit up, but the impact had left him dazed.

"You shouldn’t have brought him," the Rogue continued, almost mocking. "But it’s too late for that now."

Taehyung’s blood roared in his veins.

Something shifted inside him, the bracelet pressing against his wrist—a reminder that he wasn’t defenseless.

But this wasn’t just about defense.

This was about fury.

The Rogue lunged—but Taehyung was ready.

Something foreign yet familiar sparked in his muscles—strength that wasn’t entirely his own.

Jungkook’s force. Yoongi’s shadows. Pieces of power flickered at the edges of his movements, reacting rather than controlled.

The fight was reckless, chaotic, instinctual.

Taehyung’s body moved before he could process it.

And then—

A single, dangerous thought slashed through his mind.

He needed to stop this.

And the only way to do that—

Was to drink.

The Rogue didn’t expect it.

Taehyung struck fast, sinking his fangs into his attacker’s jugular, not out of hunger—but out of strategy.

The effect was immediate.

The Rogue jerked violently, staggering backward, his expression twisting into something unreadable.

Taehyung felt it.

A power he wasn’t meant to hold.

Dark. Wrong. Consuming.

His pulse slowed unnaturally, his body reacting too fast, too violently.

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was the soft crackle of fire—distant, gentle, like it was trying not to wake him.

The second was the weight in his limbs.

Heavy. Dragging. Like magic had stitched itself through his veins and then decided not to leave.

Taehyung opened his eyes slowly.

The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—vaulted wood beams draped in shadows, soft candlelight casting warm, flickering patterns across the stone walls. He wasn’t at the apartment. He wasn’t in danger.

He was… back.

At the mansion.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. Even that motion felt like effort.

Something burned in his chest—a dull, coiled energy that hadn’t settled since the fight. Not quite pain. Not quite power. Just wrong.

He tried to sit up.

“Don’t.” Jimin’s voice came from his left. Calm, but firm.

He turned his head. Jimin was seated beside the bed, gaze heavy-lidded with exhaustion, as if he hadn’t slept either.

“I didn’t mean to pass out,” Taehyung rasped. His throat felt raw.

Jimin smiled gently. “You didn’t pass out. You collapsed.” He placed a warm hand over Taehyung’s wrist, thumb brushing along the bracelet still secured there. “Your body did what it had to. It shut down to keep itself from burning alive.”

Taehyung closed his eyes again.

He remembered Soobin slamming into the wall. The Rogue’s throat. The taste of blood that felt darker than any he’d had before.

And then nothing.

“Is Soobin okay?”

“He’s resting. A fractured rib, mild concussion—but he’ll heal. Jin’s with him.”

Relief hit too fast. It made his breath catch.

“And the Rogue?”

A longer pause this time.

“Unconscious. Namjoon has him in containment under the wardroom. Not even his own shadow can escape from there.”

Taehyung opened his eyes, locking onto Jimin’s. “I drained him.”

Jimin didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

He expected judgment. Or fear. Or the same quiet unease he'd started to sense from the others lately.

Instead, Jimin’s gaze was steady.

“He would’ve killed Soobin. And if not him, then someone else. You didn’t do anything wrong. But… you did something we couldn’t ignore.”

The door creaked open. Jin appeared first, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and what looked like a blood tonic. He nodded at Taehyung, relief flickering across his usually composed expression.

Yoongi followed, silent, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes scanned Taehyung’s face like he was checking for fractures in stone.

Namjoon was last, leaning against the frame like he hadn’t slept in hours.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly.

Taehyung tried to sit up again. This time, no one stopped him.

“Tell me.”

Namjoon didn’t pace. That, more than anything, told Taehyung this wasn’t anger—it was gravity.

“You drained him,” Namjoon said simply.

Taehyung nodded. He didn’t try to explain. There were no words for the burn still coiled in his chest, no language for the way his hands trembled when he reached for stillness and found only force.

Namjoon continued. “It wasn’t like before. You didn’t just mimic the Rogue’s ability. You took it. Left him emptied. You erased a part of him.”

The silence that followed felt heavy and alive.

“I didn’t know I could,” Taehyung murmured.

Jin, leaning against the far wall, offered a faint, wry smile. “Neither did we. Until tonight, we thought you absorbed fragments. Echoes.”

Jimin spoke, his voice soft but steady. “But it’s not passive. It’s reactive. When you feel threatened or desperate, your instincts don’t just defend—they consume.”

“So what am I?” Taehyung whispered.

There was a long pause before Namjoon answered.

“You’re a vampire with an adaptive form of magic. You don’t just channel what you take in. You evolve throgh it.”

Taehyung looked down at his hands. They didn’t shake anymore. But they didn’t feel entirely like his either.

Yoongi finally stirred, arms still crossed. “The Rogue targeted us for a reason. If someone out there knew about your potential—this could’ve been the first move in something bigger.”

Jimin reached over, placing a hand gently against Taehyung’s wrist. “You’re not alone in this.”

Taehyung’s throat tightened. “You’re not scared?”

“No,” Jimin said softly. Then, a beat later—more honest—“Not of you.”

Taehyung swallowed hard.

He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that until now.

The others quietly slipped out one by one, giving him space. Only Jimin lingered, tucking a pillow behind Taehyung’s back, making sure the blanket didn’t slip from his shoulders.

“You should sleep,” he said. “Your magic needs time to settle.”

Taehyung nodded.

But before Jimin turned to leave, he added, “Thank you. For staying.”

Jimin smiled—soft, genuine, unguarded.

“Always.”

And then the room faded to quiet again, filled only by the low hum of candlelight and the steady rhythm of his healing breath.

Chapter Text

The morning was slow and soft, filtered through pale curtains that danced with the breeze. Taehyung stirred, less from discomfort this time and more from the quiet shift of air beside him.  

Soobin is here. Finally.  

Curled into the armchair next to the bed, chin tucked against his shoulder, legs awkwardly folded. Someone had thrown a blanket over him during the night, but he still looked absurdly uncomfortable.  

And impossibly loyal.  

Taehyung sat up, the movement making his ribs ache. Still, he leaned forward and reached out, brushing his knuckles gently along Soobin’s arm.  

Soobin blinked awake, groggy and squinting, then—when he registered where he was—he jolted upright. “You’re— You’re awake. Are you okay? You scared the hell out of me.”  

Taehyung smiled faintly. “I probably deserved that.”  

Soobin stared at him, waiting. Not pushing. Not assuming. Just waiting.  

So Taehyung told him the truth.  

Not everything—not yet. But enough.  

That he’d been attacked. That he’d changed. That his absence wasn’t by choice. That he hadn’t come back because he hadn’t known who—or what—he was becoming.  

Soobin didn’t interrupt. His face flickered with disbelief, confusion, sympathy, and something even heavier: understanding.  

When Taehyung finally stopped speaking, voice barely more than a whisper, Soobin let out a quiet breath.  

“So… what now?”  

Taehyung shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.”  

Soobin’s response was simple, but it broke something open in Taehyung anyway.  

“Okay. Then I’ll figure it out with you.”  

No demands. No conditions. Just a promise.  

~~~~~~~~  

Taehyung and Soobin had migrated to the family room, both nursing warm mugs of tea, a blanket lazily pooled over their legs. The fireplace flickered gently, the flames low and soft like a lullaby.  

The room buzzed with quiet, content energy.  

Soobin leaned his head against Taehyung’s shoulder with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. “Still not over the fact that this place has chandeliers and throw pillows.”  

Taehyung huffed a laugh. “It’s vampire chic. You get used to it.”  

Across the room, Jin was stretched out on a lounge chair, flipping a cookbook without really reading it. Namjoon pretended to scan a diplomatic report from the council, but his eyes flicked over to the boys every few lines.  

Yoongi had tucked himself near the windows, headphones in—though he hadn’t pressed play yet.  

Jimin entered last, arms full of folded laundry, his steps quiet. He paused, saw the two of them nestled together on the couch, and smiled to himself before setting the clothes gently on the nearby table.  

No one said anything.  

But there was something reverent in the air.  

Like watching the garden finally bloom after weeks of storm.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Soobin stood at the front steps, his worn canvas bag slung over his shoulder, expression torn between gratitude and reluctance.  

“You really don’t have to do all this,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the neatly packed food bundle Hoseok handed him, and the slim black-thread bracelet Jimin was tying around his wrist.  

“It’s what we do,” Jin said simply. “You kept our boy grounded. That counts for something.”  

The bracelet shimmered subtly in the light—just enough to be felt, not seen.  

“It won’t stop an attack,” Jimin said gently, finishing the knot. “But it’ll buy you time. Confuse anything that tries to track your energy. Like a soft shadow to cover your own.”  

Namjoon nodded. “Use it if you ever feel watched. And keep your head down until we know more about whoever sent that Rogue.”  

Soobin looked overwhelmed, but he straightened anyway, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s.  

“Don’t wait another forever to visit.”  

Taehyung smiled, soft and crooked. “Only if you promise not to adopt another espresso machine without me.”  

A snort. A nod. A hug.  

Then Soobin turned, the spell of safety behind him, the rest of the world waiting ahead.  

Chapter Text

Morning light stretched softly across the coven’s halls, casting golden warmth against the stone floors. Taehyung stirred in bed, blinking against the steady glow filtering through the curtains.

For the first time in days, there was no looming tension. No immediate threat. Just the quiet press of breath in his chest and the feeling of being alive.

Yet something in him felt off.

Not wrong. Just... restless.

His fingers twitched against the blanket, an instinctual urge curling in his muscles. It wasn’t hunger—it wasn’t even power.

It was the need to do something.

To create.

~~~~~~~~~

The coven’s kitchen was warm—not unfamiliar because it was unused, but because it wasn’t his.

The shelves were neatly lined with ingredients, but they weren’t organized the way he would’ve done it. The spice rack was alphabetized (who does that?), the baking trays stacked with unnerving precision, the air carrying that comforting scent of something always simmering.

It wasn’t just a kitchen.

It was Jin’s kitchen.

Taehyung hesitated at the entrance, taking it in.

In his café, everything had been arranged the way he liked it—ingredients in reach, things left slightly messy because that’s just how creativity works. But this place?

This was structured. Efficient. Jin-like.

It made him pause before reaching for the flour.

“Are you stalling?”

The voice came from behind him, smooth and entirely amused.

Taehyung turned, unimpressed. Jin stood with his arms crossed, watching like someone who did not trust what was about to happen.

Taehyung scoffed. “Excuse me, I ran a café. This will be perfect.”

Jin eyed the flour in his hands. “You say that now. Let’s see what you’re saying when half my kitchen is covered in disaster.”

Jungkook appeared instantly at the doorway. “Ohhh, are we getting baked goods?”

Hoseok wandered in next, already setting up music. “Wait, is this really happening?”

Jimin grabbed ingredients like he was now Taehyung’s sous chef. “Of course it is. I refuse to let Jin’s skepticism win.”

Namjoon leaned against the wall. “Are you sure about this?”

Jin didn’t answer.

But the expression on his face said no.

Taehyung finally got started, measuring ingredients while Jimin helped. Jin lingered nearby, pretending not to oversee but definitely watching closely.

Jungkook nearly stole sugar straight from the bag. Hoseok caught him. Chaos ensued.

Yoongi muttered under his breath when flour dust landed in his hair. Jungkook grinned, but he valued his life enough not to laugh out loud.

At some point, Jin actually fixed Taehyung’s miscalculated dough. ("I thought you said this would be perfect." "This is a small adjustment!")

By the time the pastries were in the oven, the kitchen was a complete mess—but it was warm. Loud. Easy in a way Taehyung hadn’t felt in a long time.

He leaned against the counter, listening to Jungkook argue about cookie texture with Jin, watching Hoseok sway to soft music, letting Jimin refill his tea before he even realized his cup was empty.

This wasn’t the café.

But it was his now, too.