A/N: I got so carried away with this, ohmigosh, somebody stop me! I actually kind of want to make some of these into longer fics… Should I?
There is something odd about Jin.
It isn’t his unearthly good-looks, or his winning smile. It
isn’t his overflowing charisma either. It’s something else - something that
hangs about him, invisible to the naked eye, but very much there. And you
are tangled up in it. It draws you in like the smell of freshly baked cookies,
or the sound of birdsong, or a loved one’s hug. Whatever it is, you need more.
The only problem is, all the other girls in your year feel
the same way. Everywhere Jin goes, heads turn, nervous giggling starts up, and
blushes flicker on. You used to laugh at the girls who swooned over the ‘popular’
guy in films. Now you’ve become one of them - just a face in the crowd, giggling
and blushing along.
That is, until tonight.
It’s dark, and the mammoth clouds are lit up underneath from
street lamps, so that everything has a spectral orange tinge. You’re
sitting by the lake at the park, taking a few moments away from the work that’s waiting at your desk.
That’s when you see him, wading in the lake. Around him, the
water ripples out, star shine sprinkling out about him, like he’s a god
breathing life into a galaxy. Everything about him is hazed with a lustrous
glow that extends its arms out to you – ‘come’ it says.
He’s singing you realise, his distant notes reaching your
ears, curling in and folding themselves around your eardrums. It’s the sweetest
melody you’ve ever heard, as smooth as drizzling honey and as warm as melting
Of their own accord, your legs are picking you up, pulling
you into the water. You’re splashing out to reach him, hands outstretched to
his silhouette. The water winds up your legs, then your
stomach, then your torso. It presses in on you, it’s hard to breathe, but that’s
okay. He’s turning to face you; he’s reaching out.
And then Jin pulls you under.
His lips smother yours, the one source of heat in the
freezing water. Your hair billows out around you, and he catches it, curls his
fingers through it.
And now you understand. He’s a siren. And he’s caught you.
Yoongi’s been watching you for a long time. Ever since he
woke up in fact, all those years ago, confused and groggy, and saw you standing there – you with
your careful smile, and your rippling hair. If only you could see him.
He was there when you and your friends fought. He’d wrapped
his arms around you when you slumped down at the edge of your bed, your shoulders
heaving. You had shivered when he touched you, but you hadn’t turned around,
and he hadn’t expected you to.
He was there when you broke up with your boyfriend, a hand
pressed to your back as you screamed insults and curses. And he had tried
to wipe your tears away afterwards, but they just splashed through his useless fingers.
He was there when you left home for the first time, and sat
alone in your room, bent over, homesick and lonely. He’d curled himself around
you, his head resting on your back. “It’ll be alright,” he had murmured, but your
sobs were the only sound that filled the empty apartment.
Yes, Yoongi has been watching you for a long time. He’s loved
you for a long time, too. If only you could see him.
Hoseok: [Puppy Werewolf]
When you were two years old, you had found an abandoned puppy
huddled on your porch. You had thrown your arms around him, and giggled when he
licked at you, and cried when your parents tried to take him away.
Turns out he wasn’t a puppy.
Your parents had turned their back on you for one second, while
you were running your hands through the thick brown fur, and when they turned
back, you were watching a boy of your age running about, with only a couple of
rags covering him, and you were giggling and clapping your pudgy hands.
That was how Hoseok entered your life, and your family. It’s
a bit weird having a werewolf as a step-brother, but you can’t complain. Especially
on cold nights like tonight, when he’ll come padding into your bedroom in wolf
form, brown eyes twinkling in semi-darkness, and you’ll pat your bedspread, and
he’ll jump up, and flump down on top of you. It’s like having your own personal
(big and fluffy, very fluffy) radiator.
“Hoseok,” you laugh, “You’re so heavy. Get off.”
He huffs, but rolls over and lets you wrap your arms around
him. “Oh, what a good boy,” you praise, scratching his ears, “Who’s a good boy?
You are, yes, you.”
He growls and swipes gently at your hands.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you chuckle, “You’re just too
cute when you’re like this.”
Another snuffly huff rises from him, so you catch his pointed
face in your hands, and pepper his snout with kisses. He presses his cold
button nose to yours - okay, I forgive you - and the two of you eventually fall asleep, wound around each other.
When you wake up the next morning, there’s a human beside
you, rather than a wolf. Hoseok lies stretched out, with only a tattered t-shirt
and boxers on, his limbs sprawled all over the bed.
“Hey, Hoseok, move! You’re hogging all the space.” You push
him away, and with a yelp, he tips off the bed.
Namjoon and you stare down at the suspicious concoction in
front of you. It shifts between blue and green, and a curious smoke trails off
it – supposedly, a love potion, but despite following the directions
religiously, it looks distinctly the opposite of what a love potion should be.
“You wanna try it?” he asks, eyeing it with suspicion.
“After you,” you say, wrinkling your nose.
Namjoon gnaws on his bottom lip, his dimples popping up.
He’s been working on this potion over lunch for the next class, but as the
clock counts down, his potion-making grade is looking less and less hopeful.
With a wince, he picks up the cup, and gives it a tentative
sniff. Then he licks the rim. Then he swallows a couple of drops.
“Oh! It actually tastes okay,” he says, “Like raspberries
“But do you feel any different?” you ask.
A shake of the head. You wait ten seconds. “How about
“Still nothing…” he sighs, “It’s too late now… I guess I’m
going to fail that class after all.”
The bell rings and you gather up your books.
“Hey,” Namjoon greets you in the corridor.
“So, did you fail potion-making?” you
ask, ready to offer him some sympathy.
“No, actually,” Namjoon laughs, “Turns out the potion worked
You halt in your tracks. “But it didn’t have any effect on
you,” you say.
A forced laugh rattles out of Namjoon. “Imagine that. Guess
I’m immune to love potions, or something. I mean that’s the only obvious
explanation. It’s not like I was already in love with you before I took the
potion. I don’t know why you’d suggest that, because that’s nonsense.”
“I didn’t suggest that, Namjoon.”
His cheeks erupt with pink, and he quickly walks on
ahead. “Shut up.”
You follow him, a smile spreading across your face. Imagine
Jimin: [Fallen Angel]
“I fell from heaven for this?”
“Yes, Jimin, yes you did. You had a choice. And you chose me.”
The two of you are lying on your sofa, arguing over the TV
program of choice. Jimin is disgusted that you would even suggest watching ‘The
Only Way is Essex’. (“What? It’s a guilty pleasure! Don’t judge me!” you had defended, rather aggressively.)
“I don’t know if I can even look at you anymore,” Jimin
says, turning away. A bad move. He’s left his neck exposed. You plunge in for a
deluge of kisses.
Jimin’s frown breaks into laughter, and he attacks back,
pressing his lips to your forehead. “Of course I’m joking. Leaving heaven was
the best choice I ever made.” His words murmured against your skin send a
thrill through you. “Eternity without you would have been agony.”
You move from his neck to his lips, and he kisses back, his
tongue pushing against yours. Your hands wind their way down his back, pressing
against the rough scars where his wings used to be. He gave that up for you. You stop, when a surge of guilt
rises in you, and he pulls away to gaze into your eyes. “Hey, I meant it. Really,”
he says, “Heaven without you would have been hell.”
You move back to kissing, letting yourself dissolve in his
“Besides,” his lips move against yours as he talks, his breath
intoxicating, “It’s impossible to be sinless when you have that body. It’s really unfair.”
“Oh really?” You laugh, “Do I make you sin?”
It wasn’t ideal. But Taehyung was hungry. And you were
That’s how you wound up in this mess, sat on the floor
with Taehyung on your lap, legs folded around yours. Blood trickles
down your neck and pools in the hollows at your collar bone. Still, Taehyung sips,
small moans escaping from him occasionally.
You know you should be scared, but all you feel is a dizzy
happiness. For as long as you can remember, you’ve been crushing on your best
friend, and now here he is, his body pressed against yours, his mouth bound to your
skin. His tongue is rough at your neck, but his lips are soft as rose petals.
His hands cup your face, like you were made of the most precious crystal, and
every so often he’ll draw his fangs away and carefully clean up the area around the bite
marks, brushing blood away with his lips. Again, it’s not ideal. All the same, your heart has
launched into overdrive, pounding an irregular rhythm for him.
“Can you stop that?” he pulls away for an instant, licking
at his lips.
“Your heart,” Taehyung says, “It’s going too fast, and it’s
making your blood flow speed up. I’m going to end up drinking too much if you
can’t get it under control.”
A guilty blush rises to your cheeks. Of course he would
“Sorry, I can’t help it,” you mutter, “Being this close to
you is driving me crazy.”
Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to blush, dark lashes fluttering. “I
– I see… well, just try to keep it a bit more steady, okay?” When he
leans in again, his lips press the punctured spot with a deep kiss before he resumes
You’ve heard the horror stories before - of unsuspecting
people moving into new houses, only to find them inhabited by imps, and having to put up with the constant teasing, tricking and toying that comes as part of
the sprite package. What you hadn’t heard was that imps could be incredibly
So, when you find the boy in your kitchen, ready to
smash your favourite mug on the tile floor, you have to stop and blink a few
times, just to make sure you haven’t imagined that glowing face, and that practically
“Put the mug down.” Somehow you manage to get the words
past your throat.
“Ah… Don’t want to…” The boy shrugs, and with one of those annoyingly
good grins, lets it drop. It smashes across the floor, fragments tinkling at your feet. The boy grabs an armful of crockery from a cupboard ready to cause
“No you don’t!” You lunge across the kitchen, and grapple
the plates and bowls from him.
A frown settles on his features. “Hasn’t anyone told you not
to mess with an imp?” he asks.
“Hasn’t anyone told you not to mess with me?” you shoot
back, “I don’t care what magical pixie powers you have, I’m not letting you destroy
“Pixie?” The boy stares at you incredulously, “Excuse me, I
am a devil, not a pixie.”
“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, “Like it matters. I’m just
saying, if you mess up my life in any way, you will be regretting it.”
The boy considers this for a moment, then smiles. “You’re
lucky I like you. I guess I won’t break all your stuff after all, even if you
are incredibly cute when you’re angry.” With that he picks up an apple from your
fruit basket and saunters out of the kitchen. “I’m taking the big bedroom by