Chapter Text
Today, Taehyung is a brunette.
Freckles dot his sun-kissed cheeks, bright spring green eyes framed in long lashes. He pats his waist to find it nearly fits in the palms of his hands, and his head sinks heavier, maple hair tumbling down to the small of his back. Lips curving into a cupid’s bow, face softening into a maiden’s heart-shaped likeness, his adam’s apple sinks back into his throat. Irritatingly, the familiar strength seeps out of his limbs for a more supple flexibility, and he straightens in his seat, painfully aware of his previously horrible posture.
There is no doubt that such a petite beauty looks out of place in Taehyung’s ratty sweatshirt and baggy jeans, however... He chances a glance up at his client, and snorts under his breath.
It hardly mattered.
“A-Angelina- is that you? Is it really you, sweetheart?” The old man across from him whispers, tears welling up in his eyes as he reaches across the table, fingers trembling. His wrinkles are carved into his skin, eyes sunken deep into his face; He hunches into himself, spine bowed to make him smaller, smaller, smaller.
Slowly, tentatively, he takes Angelina’s hand in his own, eyes glistening. The man’s hand is coarse and scarred from years of labor, but Angelina’s is pristine and pale. “I-I’m- I can’t-, my daughter, my baby, Angie, I-” Hoarsely, he manages to choke out a few words, holding her hands tightly as if it would be his last, gazing upon her face as if to dedicate every speck of skin to memory until death.
The old man inhales. And exhales.
“I’m sorry I wasn't there. I am so, so sorry that I thought- I thought that making money was the best way to show I loved you, and I can't forgive myself- I didn't even make it to the hospital room when you-” His throat seizes violently, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. “When you died,” He whispers.
“I love you to the moon and back, my Angie, my wonderful angel. Papa’s sorry he let you go to God too early.”
“Time’s up.”
Angelina sighs. The deep baritone is so completely out of place it cuts through the old man’s melancholy immediately, and he backs off, carefully removing his hand from his daughter’s. He looks away.
Her hair zips back up her shoulders in a blink, the pretty brown bleeding out into dark, stringy indigo; softness flees from her face as her jawline hardens, eyes sharpening, cheeks jutting out, and irises stiffening into midnight. Slowly, her limbs lengthen as the chair creaks under new weight, muscle broadening her chest and strength returning to her bones.
In but a blink, a fully-grown man replaces his doll-like daughter. Beautiful, expressive eyes grow dull as Taehyung gazes down at the customer, and like many others before him, he is unable to stop himself from asking for just one more favor.
“C-Can I… Can I hear her voice?”
After many nights of the same fathers lusting after their dead children’s shadows, spewing regrets and apologies, his pity has been exhausted.
He cracks his neck, and sighs, “No can do, old man. You didn’t pay for that.”
Silently, the client bows. Someone raps sharply on the door three times.
“You finished in there?”
“Yup. Get the blindfold.”
Hoseok, likely, (or maybe Rose) enters to escort the client out, but Taehyung’s gaze stays fixed on the wall, his mind already far away.
Wrapped in fantasies and daydreams that swirl lazily through his thoughts, he allows himself a moment of peace before inevitably-
Another three sharp raps.
“Come in.”
…
Like any self-respecting citizen of Terra, Jungkook knew of the existence of incubi.
Back when he still had friends in high school, he’d heard many a fantasy involving the beautiful inhuman demons, but no teenage boy ever worked up the nerve to even greet one, and adult men weren't that much more charming. So it seemed natural to Jungkook that the amount of half-succubi or incubi would be awfully rare.
If succubi were that stunning their standards must be supernatural, so it didn’t make any sense for them to stoop to a human’s plane of existence.
“I mean it, dude! There really is a half-human incubi living on Doorman’s Way!” Yugyeom gushes, slamming the table. Jungkook grimaces, the noise making him clap his hands over his ears.
It’s a Monday evening at Etta University’s crowded third cafeteria, students making their way from their last classes for an early dinner. The West Wing Dining Hall bubbles with light chatter as they shuffle their way through the buffet line, an early autumn sunset casting warm light through the skylights and tall paneled windows. The noise never rises over a subtle stream in the background, most Etta students electing to take a later dinner and absent from the hall. Nevertheless, West Wing was open solely in the evening for food and the quality stood out- the food was always the best for dinner, and the reclusive Jungkook loved the quiet atmosphere. The early evening white noise was easy on his ears and the curry was excellent.
The owner of the grating, nasally voice is three tables over from Jungkook’s solitary nook of the cafeteria, and his discomfort goes unnoticed, like almost everything else about him. He sighs, setting down his sandwich and involuntarily listening in to the rest of Yugyeom’s loud gossip.
“You’re joking, Yugyeom why the fuck would an incubus get it on with a human ?” Another voice snorts. It’s rich but raspy from overuse. Likely Jaebum, the music major with too much time to practice.
The entire table erupts into laughter, and Yugyeom sputters, struggling for the right words as Jungkook shrinks back from the excessive sound. He rolls his eyes to make himself feel better. Yugyeom was never the brightest bulb in the box.
“Most incubi don’t even touch species lesser than at least shape-shifters, what makes you think they’d stoop to a human?” Someone else retorts, voice nearly synthetic-sounding in pitch and depth, perfection to the human ear. A siren, perhaps? “Yiren’s right Yugs. I gotta say you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, you probably just believed whatever some idiot said.”
That voice is familiar.
Immediately, he sinks further into his seat, drawing his hood tightly over his face.
“Jinyoung, you too? I swear this is legit! I got the info from Chungha!”
His breath escapes his lungs.
Color rapidly bleeds out from his face, his heart racing; He curls in on himself to be trivial, minuscule, invisible... And the name echoes.
Likewise, the table suddenly goes dead silent. A chill pervades the air, the temperature dropping several degrees and Jungkook swallows nervously. Yugyeom is a fool for speaking her name.
After a moment, Jinyoung quietly speaks up. “What did you trade?”
“You guys are all pussies, clairvoyants aren’t scary! Just because they’re rare doesn’t mean she’s a threat-”
“ IF!”
Jaebum interrupts sharply, tone guttural enough to be a growl. “...If you could answer Jinyoung’s question without talking more about her, I don’t have to fulfill your personal death wish.”
Yes, please, threaten him more, Jungkook chants, squeezing his eyes shut. Without even looking, Jungkook can tell that Jaebum’s fangs had jutted out from his upper lip, his eyes shifting into a feral crimson. Even his Alpha pheromones are starting to escape his control, a heavy, heady scent seeping in between the smell of dinner.
“...I traded the name of my firstborn child.”
An audible sigh of relief is shared, and the hubbub of the cafeteria is noisy once more in the background. Perhaps Yugyeom is not such a fool, Jungkook muses, returning to picking at his sandwich as the tension lightens.
“Lighten up, Jaebum, do you really think Yugs will ever have children?” Jinyoung snorts, and even Jungkook can't help but stifle a chuckle at that. The rest of the table erupts into laughter with no shame and Yugyeom coughs sheepishly, probably sinking down into his seat. Embarrassed, but still alive.
The siren giggles beautifully. “How long did that fling with Dahyun last? Three days? Three hours?”
“Nah, remember that thing with Mina before that? Or Chae?”
“Are you planning to go through the entire cheerleading team before you graduate?” Jaebum laughs. They continue to snicker, each taking their turn to jab at the squirming brunette to take their minds off her name.
Or maybe Yugyeom is blonde now? Jungkook wonders, taking another bite into his sandwich. He was brunette when he last saw him, but… well. It’d been some time since he’d last seen anyone.
Continuing to munch absentmindedly, he reaches back into his memories. Yiren is probably still an age-old beauty, long sleek hair and flawless skin; sirens tended to look like marble statues. He wonders what stupidly expensive fashion brand she had decided to follow this week. Last he could remember, it was Versace... or was it Burberry? And Jaebum was semi-immortal, he likely hadn’t changed much from his messy mullet and unkempt appearance either.
But Jinyoung-
His best friend was still warm and breathing in his thoughts.
“Gguk! I’m gonna fail my chemistry exam, again! And I lost all my flashcards-”
“Wanna head out tonight? C’mon Gguk, studying isn’t healthy for a growing college boy. Yeah, Nayeon’s cute but also… FREE FOOD! And it’s not ramen cups, I mean actual food-”
“I told you were going to get sick, idiot. Whaddya mean I sound like a hypocrite? Let me take care of you, just for today, alright? Then you can start nagging me again tomorrow.”
“...It’s going to be okay, Jungkook. I promise. We'll go to the funeral together, and we can give her her favorite sunflowers and say our goodbyes. It’s going to be okay.”
“Gguk- your eyes-”
Jungkook tucks his sandwich back into the paper bag.
He’d lost his appetite.
…
The air is cool on his skin, grass wet under his bare feet.
Taehyung breathes in deeply, midnight oxygen filling his lungs.
Looking up, twinkling remnants of starlight poke holes through the indigo canvas of the night sky. There are few and far in between so far into the city, but beautiful all the same.
The boy closes his eyes.
The moon smiles fondly down at his figure, cocooning her moonchild in soft white light.
You are loved by the night, my child. Don’t reject it. Embrace it.
Suddenly, his forehead smarts with pain, brows knitting together in annoyance as his gaze shifts to watch the darkness.
Someone is watching.
“Hiding ain’t gonna help ya, Ma. Y’know that.” Taehyung drawls, relaxing back into the grass. “It'd be just darling if ya could go away.”
An extremely offended huff, and then a woman bumbles out of the shadows into the small clearing.
“You are well aware I do not appreciate that accent. We do not live in the countryside anymore, and you will speak as such.” She snaps, a whip crack of a voice too shrill to be commanding with a wisp of a Southern accent.
Square and stout, his mother is an artificial blonde with beady eyes and a pinched smile, her Asian features drowning in makeup from head to toe, and Saint Laurent suffocating her limbs tightly together with countless pieces of jewelry choking her thick neck.
“I told you I was taking the time to visit you out of my busy schedule! And you weren’t even at the front door, you ungrateful idiot!” She seethes, a scowl making a lovely home on her face.
It suits her.
He sits up dutifully to eye her figure as she continues to ramble, and sighs. Taehyung had never quite understood why she insisted on buying clothing much too small for her size. Though at the end of the day it was her dignity, not his so he had never bothered to try to understand it either.
“Do not glare at your mother like that-”
“Gucci today?” He cuts in casually.
“It’s Saint Laurent, how uncivilized. I taught you better than that!”
Making a noncommittal grunt in return, Taehyung rolls over on the grass, his attention to the sky, the moonlight still soft on his skin and the stars sinking into the liquid hazel depths of his eyes.
“Ah, it’s Orion’s Belt.” Three pinpricks of light glow softly next to one another, bright and easy to spot. “Is it already that time of year?” He murmurs, reaching up to trace the outline of The Hunter in the night sky.
“Kim Taehyung, you will not ignore me-”
“Silence.”
His mother freezes.
Suddenly, the entire forest is grasped in a chokehold, forcing silence, and a chill seeps into the air.
Taehyung cocks his head back lazily to stare at his mother, bones cracking as he stretches his neck unnaturally far, irises glowing an eerie ultramarine and fangs jutting out from his lips.
“ Do not forget your place .”
Her gaze glosses over as the suggestion sinks into her mind. He wags his finger towards the house, an ancient baritone of rotting roses and decaying flesh escaping his lips as his icy eyes bores into her.
“ Leave. ”
His mother hobbles towards the bright lights, and Taehyung watches her leave with a smile, and scoffs,
“Humans.”
…
Several days later, a half-incubi strolls down the sidewalks of Etta University.
His head aches from all of the obvious staring, (college students are such shamelessly bold animals) and he subtly picks up his pace, nearly sprinting down the street. Inevitably, his control slips and his eyes begin to shift into a myriad of colors, and he thanks the heavens for the modern invention of sunglasses. It had been a long time since he’d been out and about in a place with so many people and he’d gotten rusty.
But no matter. There are things to be done.
Pointedly, he glares at one passerby whose desires are stronger than the norm, and the little thing reddens and looks away.(College students. Such bold animals.) Taehyung rolls his eyes with a huff and bats away the brown sneaking into his bangs. Turning on his heel, he strides up the entrance of the university library.
Today, Taehyung is looking for a special little doll.
A blind boy by the name of Jeon Jungkook.
Not to mention a bit of an elusive human, considering the wild goose chase that Taehyung had been sent on all morning- dining halls, classroom buildings A through C, the science labs, the computer labs, dorm room, student financial services building, Starbucks, the quad, he’d nearly toured the entire campus from top to bottom!
He’d been told by Chungha that the answer to his problems could be found within him, but Chungha had not elected to tell him where in the world this human could be.
As he slams the doors open to the library and stalks forwards, not in the mood for the outraged whispering of the receptionist, he pauses for a moment in his stride to gaze into her eyes.
The mind-numbing muttering halts, a red-glaze falling over her eyes, and Taehyung murmurs, “ Where is the boy named Jeon Jungkook?”
“Inside, sir.”
The demon rolls his eyes.
“Specifics, dear.”
“On the second floor, at the very back of the fiction section, sir.”
Leaving her in a charmed haze, he strides down the halls to the staircase, taking the steps up two at a time, before he finally, finally , finds him. At the very back of the library, there is a boy curled up next to the shelf, peacefully reading a book.
Taehyung opens his mouth, about to give him a piece of his mind for wasting all of his precious time, when the boy shifts over, and the incubi sees the human properly for the first time. His jaw drops.
His special little doll is indeed an absolute doll, with exquisitely pale porcelain skin and curly little locks sat atop his head in a most delightful petite mop. Two bunny-like front teeth chew at petal pink lips in concentration, a little furrow in his button nose as he flips a page.
Are those.. Tattoos on his fingers? How peculiar for such a sweet little thing, the incubi muses, careful not to be noticed as he takes another step closer.
The human is wearing an oversized putrid grey jumper, (he privately gags at the color) an old pair of ratty black Converse, swimming in a pair of tattered sweatpants that make him look tiny, and Taehyung almost coos.
Almost.
(He’s three hundred years old, please, he doesn’t coo .)
Irritation subsided and replaced with curiosity, Taehyung peeks at the contents of his book.
He has to stop himself from laughing out loud.
It is important to note that most half-human, half-supernatural children are not actually half and half in species like we think of human children with parents of different races.
Supernatural blood is almost always extremely dominant, so as a result their species are determined at the point of birth. They are either supernatural, or they are not, and there is usually no trouble in identifying the infant as either or. There are no exceptions to this rule except perhaps for the recent cases involved with clairvoyants, who are not entirely supernatural or human either.
It is noted that these so-called “half” supernaturals have a greater capacity for emotional intelligence than many of their brethren.
“Jungkook?”
Taehyung murmurs near the boy’s ear, and the poor thing is so shocked that he falls off the stool. Unsurprised, the incubi catches him deftly with one arm before he can do so.
It takes a smidgen more effort than he’d thought. Corded muscle bulges under his hand on impact, and Taehyung laughs in surprise, his china-doll like appearance not reflecting the weight of the strength hidden underneath his clothing.
“U-Um- w-who are you?! What a-are you d-doing- I-” The poor thing stutters for a good half a minute before Taehyung decides that he’d indulged in the cuteness enough.
“I apologize for startling you, that was not my intention. My name is Kim Taehyung. Are you Jeon Jungkook?’
The boy stills in his arms, cocking his head to the side in question. Noticeably, the tension eases from his shoulders and his shaking stops.
“Y-Yes, yes I am. T-Thank you for catching me, you can let go now.”
Gently, Taehyung helps him back to his feet and guides his hand to the bookshelf. Having a handhold relaxes the boy considerably, and the tiny sigh that he exhales is so ridiculously adorable the incubus has to shove his hands into his pockets to stop from pinching his cheeks.
“Did you need something from me?”
And this is where it gets a little tricky.
The incubus smiles sharply, and as he speaks, his voice is dewey in honeysuckle and sugar.
“I have a job offer for you.”
….
Jungkook usually doesn’t understand what’s happening around him.
It comes with being one of the recently blind.
But being offered a job by a stranger that refuses to tell him anything and finding himself in said stranger’s car takes the cake. (To be fair, it's strangely difficult to remember exactly how he got here.)
If Jungkook pays attention, he can just make out the low hum of the engine and the slight halt in movement as the car stops and starts. The engine is expensive, and so is the car, judging from the comfort of his leather seat and the impressive amount of legroom.
Size, color, and model is lost on him. But it stank of money. And a lot of it.
He sighs.
Money is tight. It’s been the main cause of his stress for the last month, and finding work is even harder without a pair of functioning eyes.
He inhales and exhales.
It’ll be fine. It has to be fine.
If nothing else, his body is strong enough to handle the brunt of any shit that comes his way.
“Jungkook?”
The stranger speaks, and Jungkook jumps a little in his seat, startled. He’d nearly forgotten about him.
“Y-Yes?”
“No need to be startled, I wanted to ask if the music was to your taste,” The stranger murmurs, his syllables round and sweet as if he’s smiling. A blush creeps into the college student’s face. He’d been so tense he hadn’t realized there was jazz playing.
“N-No, it’s perfect! I don’t dislike jazz- I don’t not mind it, um- I mean, I like it, I do-”
“Sweetheart.”
Jungkook shuts up.
“I know you’re in an unfamiliar environment, and that can be very stressful for the newly blind. Would it help if I told you what the inside of this car looks like?”
“C-Can you start with what- what you look like?” He ventures tentatively.
There is a pause.
Likely, the stranger smiles.
“Of course! Where are my manners?” He huffs, as if angry with himself, before Jungkook feels a gentle palm on his own. “I go by quite a few names, doll, but you may call me Kim Taehyung.”
His hand lies heavy, and Jungkook only needs to shift his hand slightly to feel the slender length of his fingers and the soft silk of presumably long sleeves.
“My heritage hails from the beautiful Republic of Korea, though people have told me I look mixed; I’m about your height, and my luscious locks and my lovely eyes are both as black as my soul.” Jungkook can almost hear the teasing grin in his voice and he stifles a giggle.
“Tanned, and my hair is a little long right now so it’s curling at the ends. Givenchy also sent me this lovely white suit that I’m modeling at the moment, and a pair of my favorite white heels. Heels aren’t my favorite, mind you, beauty and comfort are not mutually exclusive, but for a suit like this flats or sneakers just will not cut it.”
The boy blinks for a second.
“And yes, for the record, most people think I am quite handsome, though I do prefer being called pretty nowadays, feminine styles are all the rage now and it’s such a nice change from the early 1900s-”
Softly, as Taehyung continues to ramble, Jungkook whispers,
“I wish I could see you.”
The words that seem to tumble endlessly out of his mouth come to a screeching halt.
A silence deadens the car.
The boy across from him can do nothing but wait for him to speak.
Jungkook can’t even imagine what kind of face he’s making, can’t even begin to fathom in his mind even the idea of what he could look like, even with all of the specific details. He squeezes his eyes shut, balling his fists into his shirt as he prepares for an onslaught of awkward apologies and shame-inducing blame.
Instead, gently, Taehyung squeezes his hand, and another warm palm rests flat over his head, ruffling his hair.
“That, doll, is why you are so beautiful and precious to me.” His voice is so close to his ear, Jungkook is almost startled, but the heaviness, the satin-like smoothness of his dark, rose-drenched baritone is so soothing that he sinks back into his seat, eyelids drooping.
“I’m an incubi, sweetheart.” Taehyung murmurs, gently pressing his lips to his ear.
“Your blindness is my medicine.”
…
It had been a bit of an oversight on his part for using his Charm on a blind boy whose hearing was likely sensitive, and as soon as the sweet little thing tried to get out of the car, his knees had failed functioning.
So Taehyung had done the gentlemanly thing to do to remedy his mistake, and swept him up into his arms. (With minor difficulty. He certainly weighed more than he looked)
“Mr. Kim! P-Please let me down! I can walk-”
The incubi ignores all of the (cute) protesting from the boy in his arms, strides up the stairway, and casually kicks the mansion door open with his foot.
“Mr. Kim?! Did you just kick the door open-”
Letting Jungkook ramble while walking through the (uselessly long) halls of the mansion, Taehyung speeds past the Sitting Room, the Kitchens, and the Hyacinth Room to smash the door to the Mayflower Room agape with his stiletto.
“ Sir!”
“ Jungkook .”
Taehyung growls, grinding his teeth, and the little thing dutifully shuts up with an irritated huff that the incubi barely finds the patience to ignore. Carefully, Taehyung lowers him onto the love seat, making sure his head is resting comfortably against a pillow.
“There we are. I am sorry for the confusion, doll.” He apologizes softly, settling onto the sofa next to him.
Helplessly, his gaze is drawn to Jungkook’s face, so exquisitely delicate that previous irritation is forgotten, and he brushes the doll’s bangs to the side, patting his cheek.
“I accidentally used my Charm on you while I was speaking to you in the car. Usually it just makes you more… available , per say, to my suggestions,” Taehyung giggles. “But since your hearing is a bit better than most, it weakened you physically as well. I wasn't sure to the extent... So I thought it’d be best to get you inside.”
Comprehension relaxes him. The incubi smiles at the endearing little sigh of relief as Jungkook sinks back into the love seat.
“O-Oh, I’m sorry for struggling so much, I’m not used to being… carried.” A petal pink blush dusts his porcelain skin, rosy lips pursing into a pout, big brown eyes unseeing but pretty, and Taehyung has to physically restrain himself not to pinch his cheeks.
Instead, he opts for a polite bow of his head. “It’s quite alright, doll. I was also a bit too preoccupied with your safety to explain properly.” He realizes belatedly that a physical gesture meant nothing to a blind boy and coughs, changing the subject. “You’re in the Mayflower Room at the moment. It’s where I house my guests.” Taehyung looks around, frowning at the fine layer of dust over the room. He'd have to talk to the staff-
“C-Can you… Can you tell me what it looks like?” Jungkook asks softly, voice skirting around shards of glass. Taehyung’s heart rocks in his chest at how fragile the little thing sounds and without thinking, he pats his head.
“Of course, angel.”
The plan was to not get attached, but planning rarely went well for him anyway. “Like I mentioned, this is the Mayflower Room. They tend to bloom in a pale pink or white color, so the walls are quite colorless.”
He glances back at the furniture and winces. Maybe a bit too colorless.
“The bed is behind you at the very back of the room. It has no canopy, just plain white sheets-” Taehyung pauses, checking Jungkook’s expression. The boy was at rapt attention, hanging on to his every word, and the incubus could almost make out the room unfolding before his unseeing eyes.
White-washed wood criss crosses across the floor, a matte finish gleaming dully in the dimming afternoon sun; the walls are bleached of color, tall glass panels covered loosely in wisp-like grey curtains that skirt the ground. A petal pink pentagon of criss-crossing shapes is set into the wall behind the bed, framing the gentle rose and quartz pillows and clean cotton sheets. To the side, there’s a small ceramic vase of mayflowers on a marble nightstand with a metallic old-fashioned alarm clock.
(“Purely for aesthetic purposes, I assure you.” Taehyung huffs, crossing his arms against his chest. “Alarm clocks should be razed off of this planet.”
“But without them people like me wouldn’t be able to get up!” The boy sits up, pouting. “Imagine what would happen if alarm clocks vanished! Nobody would be on time to anything.”
The incubus rolls his eyes.
“ Semantics, doll. Technicalities. Anyway-” )
There are basic ceiling lights sunk deep into the ceiling, but at the centerpiece is a modern chandelier, replacing diamonds and finery with simple black branches and white leaves. It sways gently as a breeze rushes in from an open window. To the west, a black wooden bookshelf is built into the wall, filled to the brim with monochrome book covers.
(“They’re for decoration, so don’t be surprised by the excessive amount of nonsense Latin.”
“Nonsense Latin? Like the templates on google docs?”
“The templates on google who?”
“...Nevermind.”)
Demurely, the colorless loveseat sits to the side, a small table in front of it with an assortment of chocolates sitting in a glass jar. There’s a closet in the back, the doors barely visible save for small grooves in the wall to the right of the bed, and miscellaneous items in dull pink scattered about for aesthetic, making the room feel more like a photo shoot than a livable space.
“It’s also strange how empty this room feels. Like there’s something missing.” Taehyung muses, finishing his description as he scans the room for the last time.
“Maybe a guest?”
The blind boy suggests, and the incubus can't help but smile.
“Maybe.”
Jungkook giggles, and Taehyung settles next to him on the loveseat, patting his knee.
“Shall we get down to business?”
…
Taehyung is a gentleman.
It’s apparent in the way he concisely explains everything to Jungkook, and the simple way he accommodates for his lack of vision during his working hours without even needing the boy to breathe a syllable.
Secretly, Jungkook is grateful. Having to explain exactly how much you couldn’t do anything was… humiliating, to put it lightly. He is also informed that Taehyung regards skimping money quite petty, and that if Jungkook worked hard, he would be paid accordingly. The pay is more than enough to cover all of his living costs and his tuition put together with plenty more left over.
Jungkook kind of wants to cry.
He also wants to protest, but the warning squeeze around his wrist shuts him up.
“So in a nutshell, I really just need a companion to speak to without having a massive headache.” Taehyung chirps. “Your room will be in the Mayflower Room for now, but we’ll move you somewhere more permanent after two weeks or so.”
...Hm?
“Wait, Taehyung, you're not seriously suggesting for me to stay here-”
“Of course I am! What kind of employer would I be, not even offering my employees proper housing!” He sounds awfully affronted.
Jungkook doesn’t even know where to begin with Taehyung’s response.
“Um.. Well-”
A gentle finger against his lips crashes the formation of a refusal to a screeching halt.
“You’re a college student. I’m sure living in this mansion for free is a much better deal than whatever rundown apartment building you inhabit at the moment.” Taehyung murmurs, voice silky velvet and smooth wine against his ears, and Jungkook shudders, sinking further into the cushions.
“It’s what’s best for you, doll, I promise-”
“ Sir, you’re doing it again!” Flattening his hands over his ears, the flustered boy hides his face in a cushion, falling over on his side.
“Sir? Sir? Do I look a day over twenty six to you?”
Jungkook winces.
“...You told me you were three hundred.”
There’s a moment of silence that sounds like Taehyung is considering something.
“That I did. Well. Old news.” He starts mumbling something under his breath and Jungkook tentatively lowers his hands from his head.
“Wonderful! I’ll have a butler move all your things in by tomorrow afternoon. Our first session will be after you get settled, yes? Two days from now, I’d like if you could join me for breakfast. For now, though, shall we have a bite to eat? It’s getting quite late-”
As if somehow Jungkook had agreed to all the absurdities that Taehyung was suggesting, the incubus goes off on his own tangent, and leading the boy with a tight hand wrapped around his wrist, Taehyung drags the poor college student back through the mansion.
(The dinner that follows is so delicious Jungkook momentarily forgets how forcefully Taehyung had wrapped him into this.)
…
Everything after that happens rather quickly.
Jungkook somehow ends up staying the night in the Mayflower Room after the incubus’s insistence of locking him into the room and a gift of silk pajamas. (Both the silk pajamas and the sheets had felt like sleeping in clouds and he’d gotten better sleep than he’d had in years. )
Just like Taehyung had declared, all of his stuff is moved into the Mayflower Room the next afternoon, and he hands him a check with his refunded room and board for the rest of the semester. (The sophomore is stunned that financial services had actually done their job; their notoriety of delaying and stalling refunds was famous)
And also just as Taehyung had proclaimed, their session begins the next morning over a beautiful English breakfast out in the courtyard under a veranda.
(Jungkook is beginning to understand that what Taehyung wants, Taehyung gets.)
He’d also read up on incubi the night before to better understand why his employer is so prone to headaches.
The nature of incubi is to call to a person’s desire. As a result, they are very good at shape-shifting and can mold their appearance to fit whatever a person may want to see…
It is a quality that no incubi can live without, but it is not wholly under their control.
Constantly shifting forms to fit another’s desire is exhausting to the incubus, and resisting it just as much. While there is a spectrum as to how good incubi can be at shifting, the stronger and more powerful the incubi, the more difficult it is to resist shifting.
Resistance can result in headaches, fatigue, and blurred vision.
As such, many powerful incubi isolate themselves from the human world, as supernatural beings do not cause the same effect. They generally only call humans to their dwellings to feed.
Fascinating.
“Jungkook? Sweetheart?”
He blinks, coming back to reality.
“Sorry, sir. I just-”
“What did I say about calling me sir, doll?”
Sheepishly the boy twiddles his thumbs under the table, cheeks red.
“...Not to do it?”
Jungkook can hear the exaggerated sigh very clearly, even the light tinkling sound of a teacup being set down ringing clearly in his mind.
Perhaps his hearing had gotten better?
“Just Taehyung is fine, doll. We’ve discussed this.”
“But then why do you get to call me doll instead of Jungkook?” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because I pay you.” Taehyung replies bluntly, a rustle to the right indicating he’d taken a biscuit.
And Jungkook has nothing to say to that.
…
The rest of their discussion goes smoothly.
They start with more superficial things, like favorite colors and animals, (“Dogs are superior creatures, doll-” “But bunnies! Just look at them!”) favorite foods, the high school they’d graduated, a bit about their families. Jungkook finds that the incubus has tastes that mirror a seventy-year old, but interests that seem average, and a marked dislike of subjects that include relatives.
“My mother- well, my current mother-” Jungkook can hear him rolling his eyes. “-Is an absolute bitch. I do take care of the parents of each family I tend to stay with as the generations pass but I would love to leave her in a ditch to die.”
The boy winces. Taehyung is also tactless and ridiculously flippant of death.
He learns that Taehyung tries to spend time with human families every generation or so to build relationships so the “social butterfly in him doesn’t rot to death” and so that he could send a few idiotic high school bullies to the hospital. Again, Jungkook winces. The incubus is so casual with violence that it was a bit disturbing.
Still, their discourse is pleasant enough, and Taehyung is a very interesting person to listen to, so time passes without him even realizing.
There’s the sound of a rustle as the incubus pulls back his sleeve and Jungkook realizes he’s checking his watch. “Oh my word. It’s been two hours already! You have class in thirty minutes, doll. Best to stop this session here.”
Involuntarily, he frowns. Taehyung snickers.
“While I’m happy that you enjoy my company, doll, you do need that diploma thing to succeed in life, so do please be on time to your… Engineering class, I believe.”
Ever the gentleman, Taehyung helps him up from his seat and guides him inside, setting a perfect pace for Jungkook to walk next to him, still a gentleman. “Soobin, my driver, is right at the door. He’ll help you to the car and then drive you to the school.”
“Thank you s- Taehyung,” Jungkook manages to get out, cheeks flush, and a warm hand pats his head.
“Have a lovely day, doll. See you for dinner.”
…
The incubus watches the car pull out of the driveway from the window.
Jungkook had been lovely. Too lovely.
He’d learned trivial things about the boy for their first meeting, but each little thing felt like a prized treasure. To know that Jungkook enjoyed Korean food, loved the color white, enjoyed painting, and was a fan of pop music made Taehyung feel special. Regardless of how meaningless the information objectively was.
He hadn’t felt this way about a human in a very long time.
Letting his head rest back against the couch, he sighs.
Taehyung is old. Ancient. And exhausted.
Jungkook is meant to bring relief, not anxiety. And so he’d treated him slightly callously today, just to see if he could scare him off, but it hadn’t been that easy. Why did he want to scare him off when Jungkook was the solution to all his problems?
Fear, he supposes.
His little doll had smiled it away, accepting the eccentricities that others may have judged.
He hadn’t been entirely honest with him either, but there was due time for that.
“ Nom de dieu ,”
He sighs, his native tongue comfortable on his lips.
It was time to make a visit to the clairvoyant once again.