#vampire!tae

He looks around the crowded changing room that’s too small like all changing rooms for BTS are, messy with both the members' and staffs' haphazardly thrown jackets, the piles of makeup boxes and the promise of food just behind the next door. Jungkook is napping next to Yoongi, Jin is talking to the costume noonas. Hoseok is sitting on that one squeaky chair next to Namjoon himself, scrolling through their group chat a little too quickly.

“They didn’t come back from the last rehearsal run. Or did I just miss them?"

“I don’t know, hyung,” Namjoon shrugs, “I didn’t see them either.”

“Should I go check the bathrooms? I mean, they know to tell us if they feel sick, but maybe…”

“Okay. I’ll ask staff if they’ve seen them. Don’t worry too much, Hobi. We’ll find them. They probably just got lost. These broadcasting stations are like a maze…”

Hoseok’s face is awfully devoid of his usual sunshine smile as he stands up and looks at Namjoon, maybe trying to find something in his gaze, maybe just expressing his worries silently.

“Yeah,” he nods, “but I have a weird feeling, Namjoon.”

A shiver runs over Namjoon’s neck.

“I know. Me too.”

With the help of the stage crew, who bring long flashlights and additional eyes, they find Taehyung and Jimin, who are huddled together like frightened animals in some corner of the darkest parts under the stage. At first, they only see Jimin. Sat with his back towards them, Jimin is holding up Taehyung. His back and head are trembling even with another body in his arms and Namjoon’s heart goes into shock when they get closer and discover blood. Blood everywhere but especially on Jimin’s neck, the collar of his white shirt and smeared all over his back. They walk closer with careful steps, not sure what to expect, what they can expect from the blood-covered idol that everyone loves so much.

“Jimin-ah?”

At the sound of his name, Jimin seems to wake up from his swaying stupor over Taehyung’s body. He turns around. If Namjoon wasn’t scared before, his heart is clenching now.

Jimin’s eyes are glowing red. There’s more blood, smeared all across Jimin’s thick lips and his chin, even across his nose. Tears over tears flow down his cheeks, dropping down onto poor Taehyung, who seems to be unconscious. Namjoon’s heart skips a beat at the horrifying sight.

“Jiminie, are you okay? What happened?”

The young boy trembles, apparently on the verge of erupting in tears again.

“Hyung. You’re here. You found us.”

“Of course, Jiminie. I’ll never leave you behind. Is Taehyung okay?”

“I don’t- I don’t think so…”

Jimin’s eyes still glow red as he looks down. Namjoon isn’t sure what he thinks might happen but when Jimin awkwardly scoops his too lanky soulmate up into his arms, diligently bulked up upper arms bulging, some members of the stage crew behind Namjoon become fidgety. There are hushed murmurs of “vampire” going around but he doesn’t let himself be deterred by that kind of fearful talk and carefully walks towards Jimin.

“Jiminie, can I come closer?”

“Yes, hyung.”

He almost chokes when he sees Taehyung - hair mussed, bandana hanging off the little fixing clips in tatters, collar of his shirt ripped and covered in even more blood than Jimin. His throat looks… not like a throat should look, covered in bites. Jimin whimpers when Namjoon gasps.

“Hyung, there was a w-woman,” he starts weakly, voice trembling. “She told Tae to follow so she could give him some stage instructions a-and I thought she was strange s-so I followed them and when she pushed him, I-I just, I- I thought I could help and maybe save Tae but she- she bit me too.”

Namjoon sees the misery in front of him and knows that this is exactly where he should be, as the leader of the band. This is where he was needed, his guidance, his comfort. This is what Pdnim had made him a leader for. Namjoon’s bursting heart tells him that these boys are who he will fight for always. Jimin is crying, so Namjoon hugs him gently, ignoring how he has to stand uncomfortably because of the low ceiling and how the dust in this remote part of backstage tickles his nose.

“C’mon, Jiminie, we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

“I don’t know. My legs are really shaky.”

“It’s okay, if you can’t, we’ll carry you.”

“What about Tae? He hasn’t woken up…”

Namjoon isn’t a man of affectionate gestures, but he manages to give Jimin a good pat on the back and prays to heaven that it will be enough for now. The news that Tae hasn’t woken up are bad and it makes his own heart clench with worry but there’s no sense in panicking before they’ve reached qualified medical staff that can take care of him.

“We’ll carry him too, don’t worry, Jimin-ah.”

He calls for staff to help them but suddenly, when they get close enough to take Taehyung, Jimin starts hissing wildly. It’s a sound that Namjoon’s never heard before. It’s eerie, here in the dark of backstage, with Jimin’s red eyes glowing harshly into the direction of staff and his mouth drawn into an absolutely animalistic snarl.

“Jimin!”

Even in the low, shaky lights of the staff’s flashlights, Namjoon catches a glimpse of fangs. Fangs. Namjoon’s blood turns cold. The word vampire makes an ugly reappearance and he swallows heavily. Jimin is a vampire. Namjoon quickly pushes the thought away before it can do too much damage, sensing that it will distract him too much from his ability to make rational decisions now.

“Jimin-ah,” he says gently, heart pounding when his hand settles on Jimin’s arm and the vampire’s eyes snap back to focus on him, “I can’t carry both of you. Let them help.”

Jimin gives him a very long look that has every hair on Namjoon’s body stand up. The sharp red eyes make his already intimidating gaze so much more intense. He wonders whether Jimin could really control someone’s mind through simple eye contact like some vampires in films and tv shows could.

“Okay,” Jimin finally relents, shrinking back to a less intimidating posture, “but I’ll hold Taetae’s hand. I tired to shake off the woman but I couldn’t and she bit him for so long… he needs me.”

It’s a good compromise, so Namjoon nods gratefully and motions for the staff to come closer. Jimin watches them anxiously, almost as if he doesn’t recognize them. Does getting turned into a vampire mess with your head?

“Come on,” he says as the stage crew member has carefully hoisted Taehyung’s limp body up.

Jimin, sliding his hand into Taehyung’s, doesn’t complain against Namjoon’s strong arm around his waist. Together, they make it out of the dark and into the warmth of the changing rooms, where everyone’s eyes snap up to the commotion. People rush in and out of the doors, stage crew members whispering stuff to the BigHit staff, jackets rustling, partitions and even a sofa being drawn and carried a little closer for some privacy. Namjoon lets Jimin down, aware of the baby vampire’s grip tightening around his shoulders.

“Jiminie?”

On his neck, he feels Jimin’s unbleached and somewhat sticky hair give way to his little button nose. From the staff’s frightened expressions, Namjoon’s mind quickly finds the path to a rather unpleasant image - a pair of fangs digging into his throat. He swallows, hand wandering to the small of Jimin’s back (he really feels like he’s holding a baby on his hip right now) and reminds himself that Jimin is way too traumatized to think about anything other than Taehyung right now - even if he’s a vampire. He gives the staff member behind him who is still carrying an unconscious Taehyung a nod and gently peels Jimin’s tight fist out of his shirt. Luckily, it’s just one. Jimin is still holding Taehyung’s hand in his other one.

“Jiminie, I’m gonna set you down now, okay?”

The vampire doesn’t respond and for the first time that they’ve gotten to the changing room, Namjoon feels a string of dread in his gut. He draws back a bit, takes the time to turn his head in a way so he can look Jimin in the eyes. They are still red, but big and watery and quickly jumping around the room, not really focusing well as they look from one spot to the next. He’s tense, the small body strung tightly around Namjoon’s chest and shoulder and Namjoon doesn’t like the way Jimin’s breath puffs against the shell of his ear in such an erratic rhythm.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s wrong, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin is usually not a person who is disturbed so deeply by things, but right now, he seems somewhat out of the situation.

“Hey,” Namjoon says again, trusting Jimin to hold on by himself when he loosens his grip on Jimin’s hip. He cups Jimin’s cheek, making the younger, clearly shaken boy focus on just him. As if woken from a small slumber, Jimin whines quietly, his red eyes pressing closed as he tries to nudge his way back into Namjoon’s neck.

“No, no, no,” Namjoon shushes, still standing but slowly coming to feel the strain of the weight he’s carrying, “Jiminie, what’s wrong? Talk to hyung, yeah?”

“Loud,” Jimin whines, almost inaudibly, and as soon as Namjoon’s brain has unscrambled the word, it’s liek the noise from all around comes crashing back into him. Of course, it must be terribly loud in here, especially for a vampire.

“Tae,” is the next word that bubbles out between Jimin’s lips that are pressed against Namjoon’s skin. The vibrations and the warm breath make a little shiver run over his back. Don’t think about it, Namjoon.

“Give me a second,” Namjoon whispers and motions for the next BigHit staff member that’s available to instruct them to get Sejin and also to clear the room. When that’s done, and a blessed silence falls over the room, he feels Jimin release a deep breath of relief.

“Is that better?”

“Yeah,” Jimin shyly twists a few strands of Namjoon’s hair between his fingers and Namjoon wonders whether the younger boy is slowly coming back to his mind. “I can hear Taehyungie’s heart beating.”

That makes sense. Jimin was so tense because all the noise drowned out Taehyung. Why didn’t I think of that? It wasn’t a secret that these two boys were close and generally considered inseparable but apparently, even being hurt himself couldn’t deter Jimin from worrying first about his best friend.

“That’s good, Jiminie,” he tries to encourage, grateful when he watches Yoongi and Sejin round the corner, “I’ll set you down now, yeah? You can stay here with Taehyung and I’ll talk to manager-hyung, okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin says, fresh tears in the corner of his eyes that he wipes off quickly. Namjoon’s shoulder curses him when he sets Jimin down but his heart warms when he watches the way Jimin curls around Taehyung, who lies on the sofa, until they are close as can be, breathing against each other softly, like two beautiful kittens from the same litter.

Namjoon feels his own body relax at the sight, grateful that there’s some peace that he’s managed to bring into the situation. He turns to Sejin and Yoongi, who are both looking at him with varying degrees of alarm and worry in their faces.

“So, vampires,” is the awkwardly pressed out question - statement? - Yoongi dares to ask.

Namjoon cards a hand trough his hair, managing a garbled laugh because of the sheer absurdity of his day.

“Yeah. Vampires.”

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

A knowing smile accompanied his words, “You ask a question, I ask the cards, and the cards provide an answer.” “I heard it’s all fake!” The woman gives a teasing smile, and Tae raises an eyebrow at her, “Then ask a question, and we will see…” Though he could already guess what her question would be—they all asked something similar.

“Hmm…” The woman shifts to lean on Tae as she thinks, reaching out to run her fingers down his arm, “Ask them about my love life.” She coos, resting her chin on Tae’s shoulder, and he grins to himself—receiving exactly what he was expecting.

“Anything you’re expecting to hear?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he mindlessly glides his fingers over the cards. “We’ll see,” She grins.

He clears his throat, bringing his attention to the cards spread over the table, “What should Ally know about her love life?” He repeats the question a second time before one pulls, and he slips it from the spread and flips it over to look at it. He swallowed upon seeing the face, betrayal, “Ten of Swords,” He said, switching to a smile; he had worked with this deck for a long time and became quite familiar with the cards. “That doesn’t look…good,” Ally says as she looks at the card; the face of the card depicting a man lying face down on the ground with ten swords sticking out of his back. “Well, it depends on the context,” He said, and that was true, “In this instance, it doesn’t mean anything bad,” He added, and the lie tasted strange on his tongue. She wouldn’t like the truth.

“It indicates that the end of a painful cycle is approaching—so you’ll find the love of your life soon enough,” He teases, slipping the card back into the arch.

Ignorance is bliss.

[London, 1846.]

“And you think you can teach me this?” Tae asks, tilting his head to the side as he stares at the young woman; her face illuminated by an oil lamp as they sat on the floor of the parlor. “Yes, I might not be able to read you, but certainly you can read.” She spoke in a whisper, a faint smile on her lips as she pulled a silk pouch from the pocket of her nightgown. Tae watches her fondly as she sets the deck on the ground, washing the cards before gathering them in a pile and shuffling them by hand.

She spreads them out in two rows and then sits back on her heels, a sigh leaving her lips as she looks down at the spread, “Okay, now, when it comes to asking question—use the person’s name when asking, let the cards know you are asking about someone else.” Tae nods, he knows this, he has observed her do readings many times now.

“I’ll read you then,” Tae grins as he shifts to sit next to her, facing the spread along the floor. “Me?” She breathed, “I’ve never had anyone else read for me.” “Then I will be the first, and you’ll tell me if it’s right,” He smiled as he spoke, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“Pay attention to the cards!” She says, but she smiles at the action. “The cards, yes,” Tae turns his attention to the cards, reaching both hands out to hover them over the spread. “Not like that, that’s unnatural looking, be relaxed—run your fingers over the back like this, softly, to not disturb the spread.” She instructs, demonstrating the action and Tae follows.

“Ask them something I know the answer to…” She trails off as she thinks, “Ask them…what my relationship with my mother is like,” She whisperers, shifting away from the cards to let Tae have full access to the spread. He wished she didn’t move away; he held out his hand, silently asking her to take his—and she did, so he turned back to the cards, “What is Alexandra’s relationship with her mother like?” Tae asks, voice hushed but clear, as he glides the fingers of his free hand along the backs of the cards.

“Focus, not too hard on the cards themselves, but the feeling you get—which card do you want to pull?” She says, giving Tae’s hand a light squeeze as he scans the spread, running his fingers along the bottom row, then the top—stopping on a card. He turned to look at her and she nodded, “You can pull it—flip it as it is, don’t turn it around, don’t change the direction of the face.” Her voice is soft as she scoots closer, sitting next to Tae and leaning into his side, anxiously squeezing his hand.

He flips the card and looks at the face, then at the number and name, “Five of wands.” Alexandra releases a breath, “Yes…that’s accurate.” “What does it mean?” Tae asks, looking to her as she speaks, “Five of wands—conflict, disagreement, tension.” She takes the card, smoothing her thumb over the edge as she looks at it, “Good first try.”

“I’m sorry,” Tae blurts, his eyebrows dipping into a doleful expression—he didn’t want her to get upset. “You have nothing to be sorry about, love.” She says with a faint smile, shifting her gaze to the cards as she gathered the rest. “Are we done?” Tae asked, flexing his hand at the loss of hers, “No, you are going to shuffle them this time, and we’ll try again” She handed him the cards.

“Should I ask them how much you love me or is that not a question for the higher powers?” Tae teases, a sly smile working it way to his lips as he shuffled the cards in his hands. She smacks his arm, a grin replacing the shocked ‘o’ of her mouth, “You are not allowed to ask those types of questions!” “And why not?” He asks, biting back a smile. “Because you already know that I love you, you shouldn’t have to ask the cards.” She dares, a challenging glint in her eyes.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” He looks at the cards in his hands, then to her, “And I love you, always.” “You love me now, while I’m young,” She says despite the glow to her face. Those same feelings of admiration reflected in Tae’s eyes as he said, “I’ll love you until the day you die.”

And he did.

Tae fled to Paris with Yoongi eight months later, after getting bloody revenge for her death; he left with an embroidered silk pouch of cards, and he carried them with him always.

[Chicago, 1927.]

“Hmm…I hope so,” Ally says, a smug smile replacing her previously displeased expression. “What else can they tell me?” She asks, eyes scanning the spread. “Whatever you like,” Tae purrs. “Can they tell me about you?” She asks, reaching out to swipe a card from the spread, but he stopped her, giving her a playful grin as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “They don’t read for me, doll, that’s not how this works.”

Later, a sharp sting to the shoulder is the last thing Ally feels before it fades to shadows and vague dreams, when she wakes up the next morning, she remembers nothing of the night before and she’s left puzzled over a hand drawn copy of the Ten of Swords.

[Yoongi’s cottage, Present day]

“Isn’t this something…Jimin should be doing?” I ask, arching my eyebrow at Tae as he kneels on the other side of the coffee table. “Not at all, I can do it,” He smiles, a devious glint in his eyes, “I can do it better.” I shake my head as I watch him spread the cards out across the table in two rows. “This is how I was taught,” Tae says, a fond smile on his face though his eyes were distant. “Parlor floor, late one evening—except we had oil lamps instead of fancy overhead lights,” He winks as he straightens the spread of cards.

“They look…older than Jimin’s cards.” I say as lean forward to look at the cards; the backs were faded, and they were worn along the edges. “They are old,” He chuckled, “These are the cards that I learned with, in 1847.” “And you still have them?” I ask, now fully intrigued, he has original cards.

“What does the front look like?” I reached for a card and he stopped me. “Please,” He sucked in a breath before speaking, “I’ve been the only person to touch these cards for the last hundred and seventy years…I’d,” He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he plays with the words in his mouth, “I’d like to keep it that way, please, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, totally, I’m sorry—I forgot about the whole energy attachment thing.” I breathed an awkward laugh, pulling my hand away before folding them in my lap. “I should know better, Jimin and Yoongi have both told me.” “It’s okay,” He sits back on his heels, nervously straightening a few cards. “What should I ask?” I break the silence, squint at the spread as I think and Tae chuckles, “Whatever you want.”

“Is there…anything I should know right now? Advice from the universe or my subconscious?” I shrug and Tae smiles, “I can do that.” He straightens his back and hovers his fingers over the cards, “Is there a message for Y/N? From the universe or her subconscious—anything she should know, any message at all?” He hovers from left to right over the rows, swiping a card from the bottom row and flipping it, “The Hanged Man—reversed.” He raises an eyebrow, “What are you avoiding, Y/N?” He gives a teasing grin as he turns the face of the card towards me.

“How about you and your deck mind your business.” I cross my arms and purse my lips to force away a grin.

“C’mon, it’s just a wakeup call—telling you to stop avoiding the thing and get it over with, you’re delaying growth and progression.” He sets the card aside and rests his elbow on his knee, “Anything else?” He grins and I shake my head, “No, you’re nosy.”

I scan the deck on the table, “Who taught you how to read, anyway?” “And I’m nosy?” Tae laughs, reaching out to tweak the cards once again. “You don’t have to tell me,” “Thanks for giving me permission to deny an answer.” He smiles as he gathers the cards and absentmindedly shuffles them, “One of my past lovers.” “During the…Victorian era, if I got my dates right?” I asked, shifting so I was hugging my knees. “Yes, in that time.”

“What were they like?” He tilts his head as he thinks, that absent look back in his eyes, “She was radiant, headstrong, smart—she challenged the norm of that era, and that made her a bit of a curiosity to the locals, and naturally an outcast…she was also a witch, and we lived in London.”

“I’m sure if you liked her, she was someone worth knowing,” I smiled softly at him. “Yes, she was a gift,” He looked at the cards, fanning them out in his hands. “How did you end up with her deck?” I asked as he slipped the cards back into the pouch. “I took them with me when she died.” “Oh, that’s sweet…I’m sorry though…” Yikes. “It happens, people die, Y/N.” He mumbled, brushing off the knees of his slacks as he stood. “I mean, that’s true, but it’s still unfortunate…” Stop talking.

“It was…unjust—it wasn’t her time.” He looked down at me, “But people die, and we just hope to find them again in our next life, no?” He gave a soft smile, extending his hand to help me up. “I suppose,” I mumbled, “You believe in reincarnation?” I ask and he smiles, “I don’t know what I believe in, but I have certainly lived many lifetimes, and in each era—I find my favorite people, and that era of myself dies with them, and I start over.”  

“But something tells me you never really start over, it’s always Tae in there,” I smile as I poke his chest. “Yes, it’s still me, just a different life.” The corners of his mouth pull into a soft smile, “I do have Yoongi, he sticks with me through the eras—though I suppose we both just cling to what we know…and when we run out of people, we always have each other.” “Okay, wow, that was sappy and sad, and it hurt my heart.” I place my hand over my heart, and he laughs, “It’s true though!”

“Find your people, they are important,” He smiles fondly as he looks around the room. “I think I have.” I look around too, taking in the sight of Yoongi’s parlor before looking back to Tae, and he’s smiling—it’s the most genuine smile that I’ve seen on his face.

And I love it.

“You’ll stick around until I die, right?” I ask, and the words feel strange as they come out, feeling as if each emotion weighed on them differently.

“Always, and then I will visit your grave and relive these days.”

~~ Omgggg I know right I was basically self-inserting and combining like 8 billion different side stories in my brain because I constantly fantasize about vamp!tae like damn,,, @ me about it nfdslfidsj