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Flowers of Fate | Lavender & Thyme

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 20,683 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, talk of murdered loved ones, angst, hurt feelings, vaginal sex, cum eating, body exploration, awkward yet endearingly cute sexual moments, jealousy, blood, stab wounds Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

The man looming over you narrows his eyes before he flicks them up to JK, who looks smug behind you. “They are supposed to be willing. This does not look willing to me. The bitter stink of her fear is burning my nose.” His nose wrinkles as if to accentuate his observation. “Can you not smell it? And…is that,” he sniffs the air, “the loch I also smell? What the hell happened?”

JK shifts his feet and clears his throat. “She may have had a slight incident going through the gateway. And, of course I can smell the fear. But what would you have had me do differently? She was unprotected, the first we’ve encountered in nearly a decade. I did what I had to.”

That makes the man’s eyebrows rise, and his eyes fall back down to you. “Unprotected? Is that so?”

“More or less,” JK mumbles.

“And that means?” The question comes from a man that steps around the side of the one in front of you. “That sounds a lot like loophole shenanigans to me.” He is pretty, with sandy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and ears pointed similarly to the man now glaring down at you.

“Well, Joon, it means when I first arrived at the gathering, not a soul was without protection. Then, suddenly, she lit up like a dry stick of tinder, and I did the only thing I could think to do…I took her.” His placating shifts from the man he called Joon back to the one standing before you. “We’re losing time, Yoons. We can’t keep waiting around as we have been with our thumbs up our asses. This was the break we needed, don’t sneer at me over something I’ve done for you.”

The man clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Seven Hells. I hate that you are right.” Suddenly he’s in your face, crouched down with an elbow resting on a knee. He tilts his head slowly from side to side, those faceted green eyes roving over your face. “What is your name?” he finally asks, a long, slender finger lightly tapping your chin.

You jerk back, appalled. “Oh, fuck you, man! I’m not giving you my name! I’m not stupid. I just want to go home.”

“You’re stupid enough to get snatched up by a Fey,” JK snarks softly.

The man standing behind Yoons slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Do be fair, JK. It is not like the poor girl really knew what was happening. It seems she may have become a victim of vandalism,” he muses, the words slightly muffled behind his hand. He steps forward and fingers a yellow petal from your wet hair. “Honey bell petals.”

JK snatches the petal from the man’s fingers. “Fuck,” he curses. “I saw the damaged crown, but I didn’t see any honey bells. Well, she was unprotected when I approached her. That’s what matters, right?”

“Mmm, technicalities,” Yoons scoffs, swatting JK’s hand, making the petal flutter down and land in your lap.

You pick up the tiny, crumpled, yellow petal. “This is why I’m here? Because my God damn flower crown got destroyed?” you ask, incredulously. The petal turns a dark ocher color as you roll and mash it between your fingers in anger. “Monica, you fucking drunk asshole with your flailing hands.”

“JK does have a point, though, Yoons. You are running out of time, and beggars cannot really be choosers. Sure, she is maybe not…ideal, but she will provide you with what you need.” For some reason, your hackles rise at the idea that you’re apparently not ideal for whatever it is they seemingly need you for.

Yoons straightens and brushes his hands along the front of his shirt as if absently ridding himself of the slight touch he exchanged with you. “Yes, so it may seem. Well—,“ he glances at JK before continuing, “—Beautiful, it seems that either way you look at it, you are stuck here for the time being, and I do, indeed, have need of a human mate. Perhaps, we can come to some sort of…uh, agreement?”

All the warnings your grandpa ever gave you about making deals with the fae come crashing down on you all at once. “An agreement? You want me to make a deal with you, a supposed fae? Do I have ‘fool’ written on my forehead or something? Absolutely not!”

You scramble to your feet, backing up and putting as much distance as you can between you and the formidable forms standing around you. It’s a shorter gap than you’d like as your back bumps into the now-shut wooden door JK hauled you through. A cursory glance around shows a small open space serving as a kitchen, dining area, and living space. There are two doorways on the backside of the space, the doors slightly ajar, but the rooms beyond are too dark to discern.

“If you could just listen to my proposal, you may find yourself a bit more amicable to agreeing,” Yoons explains softly, gesturing behind him to the wooden dining table with benches to either side. “Please, sit and let me explain as much as I can. If you do not like what I have to say, then you will be free to walk back out that door, and we will not follow—”

“Yoon—!”

Yoons holds up a hand, silencing whatever protest JK is about to spew. “You have my word,” he says to you, slowly and deliberately. His eyes are wide and sincere, even though they’re still quite jarring to look at. They glimmer in the light emanating from the few wall sconces and the fire humming in the hearth across the room, the green shifting to soft gold and back again.

“The fae can’t lie, right?”

Yoons’ lips twitch, the corner tugging up into a slight smile. “Right.”

You sigh. “Even if you could lie, you probably wouldn’t admit it. God, maybe I really am a fool. Okay, okay, I’ll hear you out, but just so you know, I’m about two-point-five seconds away from just running out that door and never looking back.”

“Right back to the kelpies,” JK mutters. You catch Yoons giving him a stern look that makes him drop his eyes to the floor and take up a guarded position by the door, his hands behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart.

“Despite his seemingly irresistible need to be so harsh with his words, JK does present another point to consider. Outside of this home and the clearing it sits in, you would be at the mercy of the creatures and beings of the Hollow Lands. Though we are closer to the Seelie Court, perhaps if you choose the right direction to run in…” he trails off, rolling his lips between his teeth. You can see how his prominent canines stretch the fullness of his upper lip.

The other man, Joon, gives you a gentile smile and gestures to one of the benches. “Please, have a seat. Oh! You must be freezing,” he titters, moving across to a large woven basket beside the fireplace. “Here.” He grabs out a large, thick woolen blanket and promptly drapes it over your shoulders. “If you decide to stay here, I am sure I can rustle up some garments that will fit you while yours dry properly.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Yoons places a hand on Joon’s arm as he passes by, heading toward the sink in the kitchen area. “My thoughts are scattered. I am grateful for your courtesy.” Those flickering green eyes shift to you, and you can see Yoons’ shoulders sag a little as he sighs. “Apologies, truly. I am normally not so…lacking in hospitality.”

Yoons takes a deep breath and settles on the bench across the table from you. The wood is smooth, dark with age, and worn from use. A steaming pot of what smells like lavender and thyme tea and empty teacups are set on the table between you by Joon. “Lemon sugar and sweet honeysuckle cream if you want it,” he says softly, placing small lidded ramekins and a tiny wooden spoon beside the pot.

You eye the steaming pot of tea, tempted but shake your head, keeping your hands fisting into the soft woolen fabric of the blanket instead. “If you are worried about accepting food from a Fey, thinking it will leave you ensorcelled or trapped here forever, you need not worry about that with Joon. He is not a Greater Fey. He does not possess the ability to entrap a human with his food or drink,” Yoons explains, helping himself to a cup of steaming tea. The fragrant brew is a light plum color, deepening as he adds a spoonful of lemon sugar. “For the sake of transparency, JK is not a Greater Fey either.”

“And you?” you ask when he doesn’t offer up that knowledge as well.

Yoons blows gently over the lip of his cup before taking a slow sip. The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace and the soft sound of Joon now kneading dough on the kitchen counter. “I…am,” he finally says, setting his cup back down and cupping his hands around it as if seeking its added warmth.

“What does that mean exactly?” you ask, tentatively, eyeing the steaming pot of tea again. Your throat is dry, and you are awfully cold, even with the wool blanket and heat coming from the fire. Can you trust his word?

Yoons shift uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes staring into yours as you assume he thinks of how to respond. Instead, though, Joon comments, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “He is right. I am a simple woodland nymph. I barely have the magick needed to encourage my garden to grow and protect my home, much less entrap a human here in the Fey Realm. JK is but a simple Seelie guard. His prowess is more related to the thickness of his muscles than the ability of his glamor.”

JK scoffs from his position by the door. “Yes, let’s tell the human everything.”

“Half-truths are not the way to receive her trust. You, better than anyone, should realize that after the foot you have started her off on,” Yoons admonishes JK, waving a stern but dismissive hand in the air.

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” you grumble, cutting your glance between Yoons and JK.

Yoons’ lips press firmly together before he gives you a slight nod. “Right, apologies again. It has been some time since we have had company other than those who know about this glade.”

“Let’s just get on with whatever this proposal is so I can decide whether or not I’m actually going fucking mental.” You finally relent and reach out to pour yourself a cup of tea, if only to have something to hold for extra warmth.

The lavender and thyme scent is comforting, reminding you of your grandpa. The heat and warmth suffusing through the porcelain cup seep into your hands, helping pull back a fraction of the chill from your tumble into the loch.

“I will try to speak as plainly as possible,” Yoons begins. “However, there are things that you still may not understand. For starters, it may be hard to believe, but you are indeed in the Hollow Lands, the expanse of land that sits between the Seelie and Unseelie courts. We are outside of your realm. JK brought you through…a portal of sorts—one that we have been using for centuries when the veil between our worlds is thin enough. You see, the myths and stories you may have heard all have at least a little truth about them. Do faeries kidnap humans? In a way, perhaps. Though, there are safeguards that humans have been using for just as long to make their desire and status known to the Fey. The honey bell flower is a ward, protecting any and all who wear a circle of it against the glamor of a Fey. Anyone not wearing a circlet of the honey bell is seen to be willing.”

“That doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, though, now does it?” you question.

Yoons sucks a breath between his teeth. “It does, but this seems like a very unusual situation we have all found ourselves in. You see, JK is sworn to me as a protector. He was acting on my behalf, trying to find the key I need in order to stop something bad from happening to my people.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” you say, laying the sarcasm on as thick as you can. “I thought you were going to speak plainly?” You wet your lips with your tongue, so tempted to take just a tiny sip of the tea.

There is a momentary pause as Yoons takes another sip of his own tea. “I think this might be your best brew yet, Joon,” he murmurs softly. “Plain. Okay. I have been banished from the Unseelie Court. If I do not find a human mate before the next full moon, I will be permanently banned from crossing into the border of my home…locking away all of my people and my family in endless darkness with the one responsible for the turmoil that has befallen my court.”

“Why have you been banished? Banishment usually means you had to have done something to earn it. People don’t just get banished for no reason.” The last thing you want is to be fooled into thinking you are helping the good guy, only to find out later that he’s really the bad one.

Yoons shifts, again looking mildly uncomfortable by your question, which makes you glad you asked it. “It is believed that I killed my father and my brother.”

A chill slithers down the nape of your neck with that admission. “It is believed—believed but not true?”

“I would sooner take my own life than that of my kin. I loved my father dearly for what he did for our people; my brother was my best friend. I did not want nor seek their deaths.”

“What’s so important about the next full moon? Why is that significant?” Every piece of the puzzle he provides will help your decision-making. You just have to be sure to ask the right questions.

Tapping his fingers lightly against the outside of his cup, Yoons explains, “The longer a Fey is away from their origin of magick—for me, that would be the Unseelie Court Moon Stone—the less connected we are to it. It has been nearly a decade since I last was within the borders of my home, since I last felt the cooling mist of the lunar winds on my face. I can already feel how significantly depleted my magick is, how much weaker I grow by the day. If I do not secure a way to access the inner well of my power before the end of my tenth year away, I will lose touch with it completely. So, having a human mate is not only crucial to me being strong enough to defeat the one that started everything, but it also means I’ll retain my ability to touch magick at all.”

“What does a human mate have to do with any of that? How can that help? Couldn’t you bond with anyone?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least somewhat intrigued now—if this is indeed the truth. The idea that you’re on a different plane of existence seems to be unquestionable at this point. How you’re not completely coming apart at the mental seams is beyond your understanding. There is a small glimmer inside, though, that you recognize as the same feeling you once got listening to your grandpa’s stories.

Yoons spreads his hands out in front of himself in a placating manner. “Everything. The reason there are tales of Fey taking humans is that they have taken willing participants as mates because humans can open the inner well of a Fey, unleashing their full potential of magick.”

“So, I woul— I mean, a human would allow you to access a secret well of power that’s just supposed to magically…what? Make the bad guy go away?” You hope they don’t read too much into your slip-up of words. It’s not like you’re actually considering his offer…whatever it is, as he still hasn’t truly laid that out yet.

He’s nodding before you finish asking. “Humans are like a conduit, an open channel for magick. They can amplify the strength of existing Fey magick and allow more to be harnessed safely. Having a human mate is the only way I can access enough of my power to save my people.”

“And you haven’t had any luck finding a human mate so far, so you send your muscle bunny over there to kidnap one for you?”

JK steps forward, intent to protest, but Yoons holds up a hand, silencing him. “Look, I know you did not come here of your own free will, and for that, I will forever apologize. But, I would be remiss to say I am not also grateful that you are here. Once, it may have been easy for my kind to come into your world and find someone willing. But, over time, the stories have changed how humans react and perceive our kind. In your stories, we are monsters, tricksters, and sly thieves. That is just a warped perception based on exaggerated presumptions. All I want is someone to help me save my people.”

“Say I do agree, then what? What will happen to me?” The tea in your cup ripples as you clench your hands around it in agitation. “You say I’m trapped here regardless. What happens if I say no? What madness awaits me out there?” You nod toward the door behind JK.

Joon turns from placing his dough into a deep pan, dusting his hands off on a blush-colored towel. “If I may?” Yoons gives him a slight nod. “Beyond my glade, await things that are far worse than being a mate to a Greater Fey. My magick is a ward, tethered to the soil where I plant my seeds. If you agree to stay and help Yoons, there is a chance you could see your world again…but if you leave here, that chance diminishes greatly. You would be lucky to make it to the Seelie Court, but even then, you would most likely end up as a captive rotting away the rest of your existence in the dungeons. The Fey take great care in choosing the outsiders they allow to walk freely within their courts. They would spend your entire human lifetime discussing what to do with you. Your bones would molder in the dark before they made up their minds.”

“I really am stuck here.” The resignation in your voice is apparent.

You see the moment Yoons thinks to reach across the table and console you. His hand lifts from where it’s resting on the wood, but he drops it back down and clenches his fingers instead. “Unfortunately, yes. At least, for the next six months or so, until the veil thins again and a gateway is accessible. As to what will happen to you if you agree to help me, well, you will become my mate. It is similar to what your kind calls marriage. There is a ceremony where we are bound and then a…um, consummation to solidify the link to my magick.”

Ignoring that blatant statement of having to have sex with this man, you ask another question, “Tell me more about your home and what’s going on with this supposed bad guy?”

Yoons’ face closes down, and he straightens his shoulders, hands dropping into his lap. “The male who murdered my father and brother, and holds my mother captive is using dark magick in order to steal and manipulate his way through my court. He has bewitched the whole of the Unseelie Court and uses his connection to the Seelie Court as a ruse. His ultimate goal is to see the end of my people and the absolute rule of Seelie. He thinks we are no better than a people to be enslaved, fodder for his kind to use as building blocks so they may reign supreme over all of this realm and the beings within it.”

“Do the Seelie support this? Why aren’t they doing something about it if they’re not in agreement? Are you fighting one man or an entire people? You make it seem like an impossible task.” You can’t help that some part of you feels sympathy for this man—faerie, whatever he is—despite your indignation over his methods of finding a solution.

JK harrumphs softly from the door. “It’s only impossible if you say no. The Seelie are just as much victims of this maddening farce as we are. The entirety of our realm, our world as we know it, is on the line and you can be the force to tip us one way or another. Look,” he sighs, taking a few steps forward from the door to stand beside the table, “I’ll be honest. It’s my fault you’re here. I didn’t realize you actually had a circle of honey bells on at some point. But, even if I had…I can’t say for certain I wouldn’t have still tried to bring you back with you being unprotected. Over the last decade, I have gone through the Carterhaugh gateway every chance I could. I have walked among the festivities, danced around the May-poles with oblivious humans, tried to ask for help, created friendships, anything I could think of that might allow me to do my job, but every time, it’s been the same. No one cares; no one believes me. They chalk it up to too much whisky or too many hours listening to childish fairy tales. It wasn’t until you that there was ever even a glimmer of hope for us.”

“Peace, JK,” Yoons murmurs. “It is the truth—The Seelie are victims in this. You see, the Fey responsible for all of this first came to the Unseelie Court as a liaison from the Seelie. It is no secret that though we are of the same people, we have conflicted against one another since the dawn of our time, at least until some fifty years ago. The Unseelie and Seelie Kings had enough. They were tired of seeing their people suffer. They came together to spark a truce. All conflict ceased, and trade began—bringing near-instant fruitfulness for both sides. The Hollow Lands remained neutral ground where markets were held at the beginning of each new moon phase, and things were going wonderfully. Then Chaddick, the Seelie Queen’s brother by marriage, came to the Unseelie Court to continue with the politics, and it has been darkness and decline ever since, beginning with his murder of the Unseelie King.”

“And you’re the only one that can save your people? Why you? Why your family? What exactly happened?” The more you learn, the harder it becomes to find a reason not to agree to help. It’s not like you have many other options. Perhaps if you decide to help, you can barter for your own help in return.

“As Greater Fey, we posed the biggest threat to thwarting his plans. I escaped, but only barely. I am the only remaining Greater Fey of the Unseelie Court who knows the truth and has the ability to do something about it. I represent the only hope there is.”

Silence settles between you and Yoons, his last words sinking in with a finality. You glance down at the cup nestled between your palms. As if without your permission, you bring it up and slowly press it to your lips. The slightly bitter and floral scent fills your lungs before sliding over your bottom lip and coating your tongue. It’s the tiniest sip, barely enough to wet your throat, but already you feel better—calmer. There is no apparent mindlessness, you’re not consumed with the desire to obey, and something inside you tells you that you know you could still leave if you wanted to.

“If I agree to help you—to become your mate…I want you to promise me that you’ll take me to a gateway and allow me to leave at the very next Samhain, unharmed, and with no strings attached.” The cup rattles gently against the tabletop as your trembling hands place it back down. “This is the only way I will agree to help you.” The words you choose are careful, constructed, and spoken in a way that is plain and concise, with no room for misinterpretation or fae foolery. “There will be absolutely no tricks, deceptions, or wayward attempts from you to keep me here. I want a guarantee that you will do all in your power to ensure I get back to my world in as much the same condition at which I left it as you can manage.”

Yoons studies you for a moment, his eyes unreadable as they flicker over your features. “I will agree to this…with one variable if you will. If I am able to free my people and see to it that Chaddick is no longer a threat, I will personally escort you to the Carterhaugh gateway come next Samhain and will allow you to leave with no further obligations. I, however, can not guarantee there will be no strings attached, per se. You see, becoming my mate would mean we are mated for all of our respective lifetimes. Being the mate to a Greater Fey, even living in your mortal realm, will mean you will still see the effects of our bond. Your life will become irrevocably longer. You will experience greater strength and stamina; you will, for all intents and purposes, be Fey yourself. Know that there is always a danger in being one of our kind living in your world. Even across the distance of parallel realms, we would still be aware of each other…the mate bond is an intimate one.”

Joon clears his throat before giving you a gentle smile. “I do know of a way to create an herbal suppressant, though. It will not completely blanket the bond, but it would ease the ache of separation. I could show you how to make it. Thankfully, all the herbs and spices you would need grow in your world, too.”

“The ache of separation?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at Yoons.

“As I said, I can not guarantee no strings. After many years apart, bonded mates may feel…ah, well, something akin to discomfort of the soul. A sadness that no amount of sun or sweets can remedy.” Yoons straights again in his seat, quickly bringing up his teacup to take another sip. “It is something I am willing to endure for the safety of my people. No pain could possibly compare to the pain I know in my heart currently.” His green eyes flash, hatred and malice darkening his features before he swipes his free hand over his face and sighs. “It has been a long day, longer for you, I am sure. If you would, Na—ahem, Joon, see to it that our guest has dry clothing and a place to rest. You may have an hour to rest and think about my offer.”

Pushing up from the table, Yoons places his cup back down and makes his way to the door you came in through. JK beats him to it, wrenching the knob and yanking it open. Yoons walks through the open door, JK disappearing behind it. The door thumps closed, sealing the interior of the small cottage in silence once more.

“Come, my dear, let’s get you more comfortable.” Joon gestures toward one of the doorways at the back of the room.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“This is a terrible idea. I swear, if you had wings…I. Would. Clip. Them,” Yoongi seethes, rounding on Jungkook, punctuating the last few words with sharp jabs to the center of his chest.

Jungkook swats Yoongi’s hand away, baring his teeth in turn. “The only terrible idea is you agreeing to let her return to her world in the end! You know the consequences of that. Are you really willing to accept an eternity of crippling pain for her?”

Yoongi sighs, turning away from Jungkook. His eyes fix on the large, green leaves of Namjoon’s seeded oak that are closer to the ground than they were yesterday, faintly twisting in the hazy breeze wafting from the west—the direction of the Seelie Court. The air holds a floral scent, one that Yoongi knows fondly.

“I do not think I have much of a choice, my friend,” he finally admits, resigned. “We need this to work. You have said so yourself that we are running out of time. The next full moon is just a few days away. If I cannot access the rest of my power by then, all will be lost, and you and I will never see the stars of the Unseelie Court again. It is a thought I can barely bring myself to contemplate. My mother…” Yoongi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Jungkook knows exactly what would become of Yoongi’s mother—the woman that is just as much a mother to Jungkook—if all of this fails.

Jungkook closes the distance between himself and Yoongi. He hesitates, warring internally on whether or not he will be crossing a line, but finally places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi instantly tenses, making Jungkook flinch, but he keeps his hand where it is. “You know I would do anything for you. If there were even the slightest possibility that we could do this any other way, I’d dump her back in the loch myself in a heartbeat. Just know this, Yoongi, you have agreed to see that she returns to her world if she so wishes…but I have made no such promise.” Letting his hand slip from Yoongi’s shoulder, he huffs in irritation and disappears into Namjoon’s garden beyond the seeded oak. “I’ll gather some food for dinner.”

Yoongi watches Jungkook until he’s lost among the foliage. He knows agreeing to your terms was foolish. He just wasn’t sure what else he could have done to help convince you to agree. It took everything in Yoongi not to lunge across the table, grapple you to the floor, and use his magick to force you into submission. It would have been easy, a simple feat in just a matter of moments. But it would have been too risky.

There isn’t much known to him, personally, about the bond between a Fey and a human other than what his mother told him during his childhood. What he told you was mostly true, with perhaps a few omissions. It is true that the Fey took willing humans for their mated bonds, but that is such an archaic practice that Yoongi has never actually known a mated human-Fey pair. In all his years, it has only ever been Fey mated with Fey. It has been a very long time since a Fey needed access to their full power.

From what he knows, a mated bond can only work to its fullest potential with a willing human. Forcing a human into a mated bond has been known to have the opposite effect than desired. A Fey that takes an unwilling human will be tainted by the bond, their magick forever infused with darkness and pain. At least, that’s what the stories say. Yoongi entertained the idea in the beginning when he first escaped from Chaddick. Jungkook even captured a human man, hauling him back through the gateway just to have to take him back after Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to bond the man against his will. It’s been a very precarious line to walk ever since.

“A damned fool,” Yoongi whispers to himself before following Jungkook into the garden. He knows there is no use in arguing with Jungkook over his last declaration, so he will just have to tread carefully and hope you don’t catch wind of that revelation.

Namjoon’s garden is something of pride and bounty. Glowing, magick-infused spheres dot the meandering paths between beds of vegetables and fruits. Vines slither along runners of trellis, and branches ladened with juicy fruits dangle within easy reach at the end of each path. Everything in the garden, except for a few vegetables and herbs, is mortal. Just another precaution that Namjoon personally undertook to help Yoongi in this quest. Without the help of Jungkook and Namjoon, Yoongi knows he would never have had a chance.

“Do you think we should have asked if she has any allergies?” Jungkook muses as he digs up a cluster of red potatoes. “Maybe she only eats meat. I did find her by the grill pits. I have a few snares in the western glen that I can check.” He rattles off the different locations and how he’s learned the best runs to set up traps on, and how they change with the seasons.

Yoongi can’t help but smile as he listens to Jungkook. The youthful swagger left Jungkook’s step around the same time the roundness of his face did—when they escaped the Unseelie Court nearly a decade ago. Yoongi wonders if Jungkook mourns the playful nature that once possessed the guard as he does. Despite Yoongi’s status as a Greater Fey and Jungkook’s lack of, growing up together solidified their bond. The day Jungkook got down on his knees and swore himself in service of Yoongi only helped to strengthen it.

It’s on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to talk about you, to muse along with Jungkook about what you do and don’t like. But, he holds back, choosing a different thought to voice aloud, lest he somehow gives himself some odd sense of false hope by letting you linger too long in his conscious thoughts. “I think Namjoon, at least, would appreciate some meat to add to the stew.” Yoongi moves to grab one of the harvest baskets Namjoon keeps in the garden, depositing the vegetables and fruits he chose. “I will take these inside and help Namjoon begin dinner if you want to check your snares.”

“Sure,” Jungkook agrees, depositing his own armful of goods into the basket. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

Yoongi makes his way out of the garden, parting ways with Jungkook at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. Pausing at the top of the stairs, Yoongi takes a moment to look east, toward the Unseelie Court. For all the years he’s been in hiding, the constant drive to return home hasn’t lessened in the slightest. He can feel the longing deep in his heart and soul, his magick calling out to be within the barrier of his home. Perhaps, he’ll be returning there sooner than he imagined. Hopefully.

He hefts the basket onto his hip, freeing one of his hands to open the door. It swings open slowly, revealing Namjoon tending to a boiling pot over the fire. The welcoming smell of baking bread fills the small space.

“Where is she?” he immediately asks when he realizes you’re nowhere to be seen.

Namjoon smirks, his warm brown eyes twinkling in the light from the fire. “I offered her the courtesy of a warm bath. You are welcome to go in and check on her if you would like.” He nods toward the second door across the room, now firmly shut—a tiny sliver of light peeks from under it.

Yoongi scoffs. “You have a poor sense of humor.”

“Do not worry. I did not let your precious human mate escape. As much as I am of the middle ground, our friendship means more to me than neutrality,” Namjoon comments quietly. “After all, I have been harboring a pair of wanted Fey for nearly a decade now.”

It’s not a jab by any means; Yoongi knows that, but those words add a slight ache to the crushing weight already on his shoulders. Just a reminder of how important this all is. Yoongi and Jungkook aren’t the only ones that would be facing irrevocable consequences should this not succeed. Even though Namjoon has been able to hide Yoongi and Jungkook behind the ward of his magick here in the clearing, Namjoon’s magick has slowly been depleting. With each passing year, the ward weakens. The drooping branches of Namjoon’s seeded oak are proof enough of that. Whereas the tree once stood tall, proud, with limbs extended high into the air—they’re now far closer to the ground than the clouds, a very alarming reality.

Before he can reply to Namjoon, a thump followed by a muffled yelp has him dropping the harvest basket—sending fruit and vegetables scattering across the floor—and racing to the closed door. It swings open, the hinges squealing in protest of the force at which Yoongi opens it. “Are you okay?!” Yoongi exclaims, eyes wide on your naked form, bent over to retrieve the towel puddled on the floor by the sink.

“What the—close the fucking door!” you yell, snatching up the towel and trying to cover yourself.

Your words barely register before Yoongi lets out his own yell and scrambles to close the door. “Sorry! Sorry!” he yells through the now-closed door. “I heard you scream! Seven Hells consume me. I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

Your voice grows louder as you walk closer to the door. “I’m fine,” is your breathy reply. Yoongi can hear the barely concealed laughter in your words. “I missed the last step getting out of the bath and caught myself on the sink. The only thing wounded is my pride at this point.”

Yoongi jerks away from the door when he feels you opening it. He tries to look anywhere but at you when it slowly opens, revealing you now with the towel tucked under your arms. His traitorous eyes lock onto a water drop that slips down your neck and traces the curved mound of your breast before being absorbed by the towel. He clears his throat, taking another step back and forcing his eyes to the floor. “I—uh, that was—I am terribly sorry. I should have knocked or…”

You do laugh now. It’s a pretty sound, one that has Yoongi’s eyes flickering back up to take in the slight smile now curling your lips. You take a deep breath. Yoongi is proud of himself for refraining from watching the rise and fall of your towel when you do so. “Well, I guess that will help with the awkwardness of seeing me naked before we have to…you know.”

A choking sound echoes from across the room, Namjoon trying to suppress his own laughter. Yoongi’s brows bunch together as he frantically tries deciphering some hidden meaning behind your words. Because, surely, you don’t mean what he thinks you do. “Is that your way of saying yes?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he fights the need to heave air into his lungs for fear of breathing too loud and not hearing your response.

“Not how I intended to say it, but yeah…umm,” you pause, shifting awkwardly on your feet, wet your lips, and try again. “I mean—yes, it’s a yes. I’ll help you if you promise to help me return at the next Samhain.”

Yoongi can’t believe what he's hearing. He was sure he’d have to barter and spend several more hours trying to convince you, despite his earlier words of only giving you an hour to decide.

“Yes, yes, okay. Agreed.” Yoongi hesitates, wondering if he should let you get dressed. But decides he doesn’t want to give you any more time to possibly talk yourself out of the agreement. He steps toward you quickly, extending his right hand. “You have my word, I swear it. For your agreement to be my mate, I will do everything in my power to see to it that you return home at the next Samhain if that is your wish.”

Yoongi watches a myriad of emotions play out on your face as you stare at his long and slender fingers hanging in the air between you. He can see the moment you mentally leap over whatever last hurdle there was. You take a soft breath–that Yoongi allows himself to watch swell your chest this time–and slide your hand into his.

“It’s a dea—“ a loud yell outside the front door cuts off your words. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around yours, and he lets a trickle of his magick leech into you, cementing the agreement.

The smell of jasmine and chamomile floods the room as the front door is slammed open. That combined fragrance makes his heart ache, but not nearly as much as the look on the face of the figure now standing in the open doorway. He was so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized the scent in the air around the cabin had changed.

In strides a striking figure, regaling in beautiful blush-colored robes with silver accents. Jungkook follows quickly behind, a string of fuzzy hares tethered to his belt. “If you would just listen to me!” He stops in his tracks, eyes flicking from the newcomer to where you and Yoongi are standing across the room, hands still clasped together. “Ah, Seven Hells…you did it, didn’t you?”

Yoongi opens his mouth, intent to address the room, but a sharp hand is slashed in the air, cutting off anything he could possibly say in his own defense. “Sixty years,” whispers a voice Yoongi knows intimately. He is beautiful as always with his dark brown hair, the silky strands shifting to reveal his ears' soft, pointed tips. His plush lips help conceal the points of his canines, but as he speaks, they peek out. “Sixty years gone in an instant. I knew this day was coming. I knew it needed to come for the world to be right again…but I thought you would at least afford me the decency of allowing me to be here to help, to witness, to ensure you did not bind yourself to someone unworthy of the status of the bonded mate of a Fey Prince!” By the time he’s finished speaking, his voice has risen to a booming volume that fills the entire space.

“Mini.” Yoongi winces as Jimin sneers at his nickname—the name Yoongi has moaned into his ear many times over the last sixty years.

“Wait—a Prince? You’re a fae Prince! Oh, for fucks sake, what else are you keeping from me?!”

Tightening his grip around your hand, Yoongi prevents you from snatching your hand away in anger. He groans, tasting the sudden sour flare of betrayal coming from you. “Fuck.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoons and the stranger, who you heard him call Mini, disappear out the door quickly after it’s revealed that Yoons is actually a fae Prince. He gave you a guarded look, dropped your hand, and stormed out the door with Mini hot on his heels. JK shut the door and has been standing with his back to it like a guarding sentinel ever since.

That was hours ago now, you’re sure. It’s hard to tell, considering what Joon explained about the passage of time in the fae realm. When he ushered you back into the lone bedroom, where he had clothes waiting for you laid out on the bed, you asked how long you had been there. He shrugged, explaining that time passes as it needs to based on the power demand of the sun and moon, but if he could guess, it would be nearing midday back in your world now, leaving you to balk at that realization as you got dressed.

Now, you sit cross-legged on an overstuffed pillow on the floor, elbow on your knee, and chin resting in your palm. You watch the fire crackle in the hearth. The stew Joon made with the vegetables and hares brought in earlier sits heavy in your belly. It was tasteless on your tongue, the flavors lost to your senses as you tried to come to terms with your situation.

You cringe at a loud curse from outside. It’s been a near-constant yelling match since the front door closed. The voices are muffled enough that you can’t make out every word, but it seems Yoons and Mini enjoy punctuating their sentences with very loud profanities.

Joon sighs from his spot in a rocking chair on the other side of the fire. He has a block of alder situated in his lap, shearing off small fluffs of wood with a tiny whittling knife. “I think this is the longest lover's quarrel they have ever had,” he murmurs, almost as if to himself.

“Lovers quarrel?” you question, glancing away from the fire and toward Joon.

“Oh,” Joon laughs awkwardly. “I did not realize I said that so loud. I—uh, well, I suppose you will find out eventually. They,” he nods toward the door, “have been together most of their lives.”

That’s an interesting revelation. “Cool. So, I get to be the Jolene in this situation,” you scoff. “Typical. Apparently, fae males are just as bad as human ones. They can’t be honest and think it’s okay to have multiple lovers just because you didn’t specifically tell him you wanted to be exclusive. You’d think that would be a given, right? But also, shouldn’t transparency come from the person who wants to do the hustling? Fuck me, I guess, for assuming men have the emotional maturity to navigate a relationship or, heaven forbid, know how to communicate beyond the twitch in their pants…” You let your words trail off, realizing you just let them vomit out in frustration.

“Well, I am not sure who or what Jolene is, but I know Yoons has had nothing but good intentions for this whole situation. Things have moved a lot faster than any of us could have anticipated. It is not like he was intentionally keeping Mini from you, nor you from Mini. They both know good and well that this is far more important than whatever feelings they have for one another. Fate is a cruel master that we are all at the mercy of.” Joon's speaking is oddly comforting, even if it is pretty blunt. He reminds you of your grandpa in many ways, seemingly knowing what needs to be said and when.

You may not understand the situation to the degree that they do, but you can still relate to and sympathize with their desperation. There was a point where you wanted something so badly you would and did do anything to obtain it. Granted, a sterling silver and amethyst engagement ring doesn’t quite equate to the lives of an entire people, but you still know what it feels like to fight tooth and nail for something you wholeheartedly want. It’s part of why you were so adamant about Monica enjoying herself with Malcolm and trying not to put so much expectation and demand into the situation. You’ve learned that life and its opportunities are fickle at best, so it’s inherently important to grab onto them while you can.

As opportunities go, despite Yoons apparent inability to not be the stereotypical fae you heard about in your grandpa’s stories, you know you don’t have many right now. Your best one is still to keep to the bargain you’ve agreed to. The faster you help Yoons, the quicker you can leave. Though, you reckon maybe you won’t be able to go all that fast. From your recollection, JK said Samhain wasn’t for another six moons.

“Joon, what happens once things are back to normal around here? Do I just stay here with you until Samhain?” you ask.

The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. “You are more than welcome to stay here, but I imagine Yoons will want his bonded mate as close as possible until he can see you back through the gate himself when the time comes.”

“Why would you even want to go back?” The question surprises you, coming from JK. You had almost forgotten he was standing by the door.

You drop your hand and turn to look at him. The fire casts his face in shadows, highlighting the bridge of his nose and the cut of his cheekbones. He looks every bit the fae of lore that you once fantasized about. His eyes bore into yours, lips mashed into a severe line as he waits for you to respond.

“Why would I want to go back?” you parrot back incredulously. “Are you serious? Why wouldn’t I?! That’s where my friends, family, and all other things important to me are. It’s not like you took me from a life of nothing. You haven’t done me any favors…I can only imagine the domino effect this will have on the people in my world.”

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“Mal, why isn’t she back yet? She’s abandoned me after everything I’ve done for her…traveling halfway around the world chasing after woo-woo kids' stories all because she can’t cope with losing someone.” Monica mumbles into Malcolm’s shoulder. If the way her stomach is clawing at itself, she’s sure it’s been hours since you left to get food. “I’m hungry.”

Malcolm shifts Monica in his lap, getting ready to stand up with her in his arms. “Well, I am glad she brought ye half wey aroond the world. And, I’m sure she’s braw. She likely got caught up in th’ festivities again. I will have mah pal, Finn, keep an eye oot for her. I think I should be getting ye in kip. Otherwise, ye’ll be in a fankle come mornin’.”

“At least send her a text or something for me, please?” Monica whines. “What about my food? Can you ask her where my food is, too? Ugh.”

Swinging Monica into his arms, Malcolm cradles her close, whispering assurances that he’ll take care of everything and not to worry. He calls out to his friend, Finn, asking him to keep an eye out for you and, if he sees you, to let you know that he’s taken Monica back to his place to sleep it off.

After getting Monica strapped into the passenger seat, he shoots off a quick text to your number that he got from her phone, reiterating his intentions and providing his home address if you wanted to come to check on her after you’re done at the festival.

When morning rolls around, you’re still nowhere to be found and aren’t responding to any texts or calls. The hangover is nothing compared to the guilt Monica feels recalling her words and actions last night. You may not have heard what she said to Malcolm, but she hates that she said it regardless.

“Where is she?” Monica voices for what feels like the thousandth time, wiping at the smeared mascara under her red-rimmed eyes.

Monica was nearing her wit's end when you still hadn’t shown up by lunchtime. Malcolm took her down to the local Police Authority to file a report; they immediately went into action. So far, the entire Bowhill House estate and surrounding woods have been searched with no luck. The rental car is still parked at the estate, and all your luggage and credentials are still in your hotel room. It’s like you simply disappeared.

Malcolm pulls the hot kettle off the burner, setting it aside to begin preparing coffee. The bakery sits empty, aside from him and Monica and the occasional officer or concerned friend who pops by with any updates. The time in between information has grown increasingly more significant, putting Monica even further on edge.

“She’ll turn up, lass. She would nae have left ye.” The assurances don’t seem to be doing as much as they had before.

Monica sighs, staring out the bakery window, trying to think of anything important that might lead to finding your whereabouts. Deep down, though, she can’t shake off the niggling thought that you’re no longer here…but somewhere else.

🌸🌸🌸

JK glares at you as if you’ve somehow offended him with your words. “At least your loved ones are safe, protected back in the human world…not mere days away from utter destruction.” His words make you grind your teeth, irritated in your own way that they make you feel selfish and ungrateful.

Joon clears his throat, breaking the thick tension in the air. “That will be enough of that; from both of you. Far too much negativity has permeated through the eaves of my home, and I will not allow it to continue.” A soft breath leaves him as he returns to his wood, murmuring something else you barely catch, “I do not think my magick can handle much more strain anyway.”

Drawing your legs up to your chest, you return to watching the fire dance in the hearth. The silken fabric of the pants Joon gave you slips along your legs as you shift, bringing with it soft whiffs of cedar and clove. The entire outfit smells faintly of it, like mulled spices and freshly chopped cedar chips. It’s comforting, much like the lavender and thyme tea from earlier. It reminds you of your grandpa. Your thoughts shift to him and his stories. A sad smile tugs at your lips, and you wonder if he’d believe you if you told him where you’d found yourself. You’re sure he would.

The voices outside have quieted down. Your eyes begin to droop as exhaustion creeps in. Since time holds little meaning here, you wouldn’t be surprised to see the sun peeking through the windows soon or several hours from now.

When the front door creaks open, you’re nearly slumped over on the floor asleep. You jerk upright and blink rapidly to bring your eyes back in focus. Yoons walks in, followed by a very somber-looking Mini. They both look as if they have been crying, eyes red-rimmed, and cheeks blotchy.

Mini approaches you, back ramrod straight and shoulders squared. He looks down at you along the bridge of his nose. His eyes are a startling turquoise color, something you missed when he first stormed through the door hours ago. They are soft, unlike the glinting green and gold of Yoons’ eyes. “I am sorry.”

You’re taken aback by his apology, balking up at him in confusion. “What?”

“My behavior was unbecoming of someone of my stature. I formally extend an apology to you on behalf of the entire Seelie Court and my position as Crowned Prince, Protector of The Sun, and Guardian to The Stars.” The words are stilted, sounding rehearsed and lacking any genuine emotion. “I hope you do not allow your first perception of me to color the view you hold for the rest of my people.” He cuts a short bow, looming over you as he does, before straightening and turning toward Yoons, standing by JK near the door. “I will be going now.”

“Mini, it does not have to be like this, and you know it.” Yoons crossed his arms over his chest, eyes fixed in a glare.

You can’t see the look on Mini’s face, but you can’t imagine it’s a nice one. “I would rather chew off my own tongue than witness the love of my life fornicating with a magickal void. I will return tomorrow night to move forward with our agreement of attack. Until then, goodnight.”

Yoons moves quickly, cutting off Mini’s advances toward the door. “Please, just stay. They will not miss you at court if you are gone for a few nights. They already think you are patrolling along the border.” He hesitates, flexing his fingers where they are wrapped around Mini’s bicep. “I was hoping you would do the binding for us as a way of offering your blessing. I would not want it to be done by anyone else.”

Mini scoffs. “You want me to be the one to bind you?” Bitterness coats his words, “Do you have no shame? You would ask me to do this, for your sake? What about my sake?”

“Please, Mini, I need this from you. I need this to know that once all of this is over, we will still be okay, that we will still be us” Yoons pleads, moving his hands to grip the lapels of Mini’s jacket. “I cannot do this without you. There is no point in doing this without you because, without you, I might as well not have a people, a kingdom…I would have nothing.”

“Fuck you,” Mini whispers, resignation taking the heat out of it. Yoons pulls him into a fierce hug, clinging to him in desperation. “Seven Suns knows this is not fair. I do not know what I did in a past life to deserve this.”

“I promise to spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” Yoons responds, his words choked with emotion.

You feel like you’re witnessing something private, something you shouldn’t be present for. There is no doubt the connection between them. You’re suddenly feeling something you haven’t in a long time; envy. To love and be loved, in turn, is a desire you hold close to your heart. Tearing your eyes away from where Yoons and Mini are still held in each other's arms, you let your gaze slide across the room, briefly landing on JK and then Joon, who seem to be ignoring the other two as you’re trying to do.

Running Mini’s words back through your head, you realize he mentioned his position as crowned prince of the Seelie Court. Of course he would also be a prince. No wonder he doesn’t think you’re good enough for Yoons. You’re nowhere near having a status like that. You feel a pang of sadness, knowing they can’t be together as mates all because Yoons needs to have access to his full power. It seems that Joon is right; fate is, indeed, a cruel master.

“The sun will be rising soon. We should hurry,” Yoons murmurs, finally pulling away from Mini. “Um, Beautiful,” he stumbles over the nickname given to you by JK, “I also want to apologize.” He turns to face you, quickly rubbing the sleeve of his top over his cheeks to clear away the residual tears. “This is not how any of this was supposed to pan out. I know you must have many questions, but time is not on our side. We are both bound by our word and agreement. I promise to answer any more of your questions once we have fulfilled the bond we have agreed to.”

You chew your bottom lip a moment, focusing on the knot you can feel sitting in the center of your chest, which you know is tied to the agreement you made. There is surprisingly little waiver in your voice as you speak, “What happens if I go back on my word? What if I have changed my mind and am no longer willing?”

The room falls into an uncomfortable quiet. As he stares at you, darkness boils in the mossy depths of Yoons’ eyes. “What can I offer you for that not to happen?” His words slice through the silence, quiet but teetering on the edge of barely restrained frustration.

Smoothing your hands along the front of the borrowed top you’re wearing, you stand from your place on the cushion and face Yoons fully. “I want you to give me your true name.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” JK roars immediately.

“Let us be reasonable here,” Namjoon tries, knuckles turning white as he clutches the wood in his hands.

Mini hisses, baring his teeth at you in challenge. “How dare you! I will—”

“Yoongi. Yoongi of House Min, Crowned Prince of the Unseelie Court, Protector of The Moon, and Guardian to The Stars.” A sense of power settles next to that knot in your chest. You weren’t sure if the stories about the power of given names were true, but it was worth asking; you’re glad you did. Holding leverage over this fae gives you a sense of peace, despite the circumstances.

You nod, satisfied and finally feeling in control for the first time since coming through the gateway. “Okay, Yoongi, what do I need to do?”

“We begin with the binding of our fates,” he says, glancing at Mini, who has a guarded expression on his face. “As the moon gives way to the sun, and the lines between the planes of magick blur, allowing them to embrace and kiss like lost lovers, we will exchange vows bound beneath a knot of eternity.”

“Under the oak?” Mini asks quietly.

Yoongi nods. “It is the closest that we have. JK, if you will?” He holds out a hand to his guard. You watch as JK slowly reaches up and undoes the silver necklace with the crescent pendant from around his neck.

“May I witness?” JK questions, his eyes wide and rounded with curiosity and wonder. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the flickering light or not, but you’re almost sure you see the glossiness of unshed tears in their depths as well.

“I would not have it any other way, my friend,” Yoongi answers in kind, taking the silver necklace from JK with one hand and clapping him gently on the shoulder with the other. “Joon, you are welcome to bear witness as well.”

Joon hums thoughtfully, setting aside his wood project and tools on the floor. “It would be the greatest honor to stand in observance.”

“What exactly is going to happen?” you ask. You clench your fists at your side, fighting off the sudden wave of nerves barreling through you. You might have power over this fae, but you’re essentially about to marry him, and that feels far more daunting now that it’s about to happen.

Yoongi steps forward and takes one of your hands, gently uncurling your fingers and soothing them with his own. “There is an incantation, ancient words that bind souls together. We will clasp each other's arms like this,” he explains, sliding his fingers along your wrist and forearm before firmly grasping it so his wrist presses against the inside of yours. “We will wrap the silver chain of JK’s necklace around our wrists to keep the pulse points connected as we are bound, my magick to you and you to my magick. This opens the doorway to access the well of my magick. The act of…giving ourselves to one another—removing all barriers—will allow you to step through that doorway, anchoring my connection to my inner well through your access.”

“It sounds so mysterious and, let’s be honest, crazy.” You shake your head, silently pleading for some sort of sign that this is the right thing to do and that you’re not blindly putting your faith in a group of deranged strangers. The breath in your lungs wheezes out, and with the next inhale, you catch the faint cedar and clover scent of the borrowed clothes you’re wearing. It has a calming effect, one you latch onto and allow yourself to cling to. Everything happens for a reason. That’s something you have always believed. Perhaps the thing you’ve been chasing, that something that drove you to fly across the world on a whim, is this. Why else would all of this have happened? “So crazy that it has to be true, right? Fuck. Please don’t let me regret this,” you mutter to yourself.

Mini gestures impatiently toward the door. “Come on, before I have sense enough to change my mind.”

Yoongi guides you out the door and around the side of the tiny home. This is your first time getting a good look at the area. Joon’s cottage sits in a grassy clearing, a massive towering oak in the center, like everything else was built around it. The outer wall of the house sits just under the lowest branches, the fat leaves lightly brushing the lip of the roof. A small picket fence surrounds an expansive, full and lush garden with greenery and crops.

Mini, JK, and Joon follow you and Yoongi around the oak's far side. A large stone wall with a circular opening spanning through the center is hidden on the other side of the garden. Through the space, you can see a pathway into Joon’s garden, lined with blossoming white and purple flowers. “A moon gate,” you whisper in awe.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you in surprise. “You know moon gates?”

“Well, yes, I’ve seen them dating as far back as the 17th century in China, though they are also popular in Bermuda. They’re often associated with wealth or good omens,” you rattle off the generic information you know about them. “Though, my grandpa always had a theory that, like structures such as Stonehenge and the Carnac Stones, the moon gates—given the proper implements—could be used as ceremonial gateways to and from other planes or as conduits of power.”

All three of them give you mild looks of astonishment. “You must tell me more about your grandfather once all of this is over,” Yoongi requests, much to your own surprise. “He sounds like an extraordinarily intuitive man.”

“He was, yes.” And with that, you decide you’re no longer acting on your sole behalf but on his, too. You know he would tell you this is the right thing to do. He would be proud of your sacrifice and commitment to helping Yoongi. “I think I would like that very much.”

A distinct pink hue begins to infiltrate the horizon, just over the treeline surrounding the clearing. “The sun is rising,” Joon comments lightly.

Standing together in the opening of the moon gate, Mini and JK work to secure the silver crescent moon necklace around your and Yoongi’s wrists. There is a fervent way to how they work, methodical with nimble and sure fingers. “You said before that we would exchange vows under the knot of eternity?” you say it more as a question than a statement, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Surprisingly, it’s Mini who answers. “Moon gates are an infinite symbol. They have no ending or beginning. They represent eternal continuity. The masonry of the moon gate is a form of stone knotting, precise cuts and measurements that allow the stone to secure together like a knot. It is integral to how the stone retains its perfectly rounded opening, thus a knot of eternity.”

“Beautiful,” you whisper under your breath, having a newfound interest in the symbols and nature of things here that are considered relatively mundane in your own world.

Yoongi’s hand is cool against the heat of your skin. The tips of his fingers graze lightly along the underside of your forearm, sending a slight flush of goosebumps up your arm. Those green and gold eyes meet yours, holding all his worries and relief, reservations and hope within them. He’s such a complex creature, you realize, full of facets and depths deeper than you can imagine. He’s a drowned soul, just someone looking for a way back to the surface . Fate may be a cruel master, but it seems also to have a poor sense of humor.

As the sun replaces the moon, darkness melding into light, Mini speaks words that you do not understand, but you know for sure that they are beautiful. The poetic words chanted over your union are rhythmic, flowing in a way that tugs at your heart. Joon and JK stand on either side of the moon gate, watching in silence as Mini recites the words of the bonding incantation. Finally, his words trail off, and he looks to Yoongi, giving him a slight nod.

Yoongi takes a slow breath, his eyes dropping to where your hand is clasped to his forearm. “As the moon gives way to the rising sun, so too will I give way to you as my mate. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my stars and find warmth within my soul. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

With his words, you feel an effervescent tingle beneath your skin from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. You’re not sure what to say or if you need to say anything at all, but you feel like you should.

“I—uh…”

“Just speak from your heart,” Mini encourages, sounding genuinely friendly toward you for the first time.

You look at him, realizing just how hard this must be. Wetness is gathered along his lashes, and his hands are fisting into the sides of his linen pants. He looks at Yoongi like he created the universe, and you suppose that maybe Yoongi did create one—the universe he shares with Mini.

The words come easy now, flowing like you knew what to say all along. “The moon spends its entire life reflecting the light of the sun so that others may see, even in the dark. I offer myself to you not as the sun but as the ocean, so that you may look upon me and see the reflection of yourself with every cresting wave, to see yourself as others see you and know your full potential. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

There is a small glimmer of playfulness that you can see in the awe on Yoongi’s face. His hand is no longer cold against your flesh. The buzzing beneath your skin has begun to increase to a staccato pulse, centered in the middle of your chest. The smell of fresh cedar and mulled spice reaches you suddenly, making you realize it is, in fact, Yoongi that smells like that. The subtle scent of jasmine and chamomile mix with it as Mini moves to begin unwinding the silver necklace from around your and Yoongi’s wrists.

“Thank you, Mini, for this gift you have given me.”

Mini gives Yoongi a sad smile. “I am sorry for the way I acted before. I know I have been selfish and a fool, but I will never stop loving you.” His eyes drift to yours. “I thank you for everything you do for Yoongi and our people. Your act of selflessness and kindness will be forever marked in our history.” He finishes removing the small silver chain, allowing you and Yoongi to release each other.

The sun is starting to peak above the treeline, flooding the garden with soft light that catches in the silvery strands of Yoongi’s hair and makes his eyes glitter. Yoongi’s hand slides down your arm until his fingers meet yours. It feels like he’s beneath your skin, the touch heightened in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“We will remain out here for the day, I think,” Joon comments. “It is sure to be a pleasantly beautiful one and perfect for a nap under the oak.”

“I should return to my patrol. I shall return here before nightfall to move forward with the plan.” Mini hesitates, looking uncertain as to what to do. Finally, he briefly grips Yoongi’s free hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go and taking a step back. “Until then.”

You watch as he crosses the clearing, his shoulders tight and his steps stiff. He glances back over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the treeline heading west, back toward the border of the Seelie Court.

“What plan is he talking about?” you ask, turning your attention to Yoongi. His hand still lingers on yours, his fingers lightly tapping against your palm in a calming rhythm.

Yoongi nods to Joon and JK, who have started to meander into the garden through the moon gate. “We think it best to move as soon as possible. My powers are at their greatest when the moon is high, so once night falls again, and we are fully bonded…I should be powerful enough to enter back into the Unseelie Court and finally confront Chaddick—to kill him and his swamp hag, Borgia.”

“That seems so…soon, so sudden. Would it not be better to wait a few days to get used to your new level of power?”

The look Yoongi gives you makes you want to cry. There is so much anguish and hurt you’re certain you can feel the extension of it in your own chest. “I have waited for nearly ten years. I do not know the extent of what horrors have befallen my mother. Every day I do not return is one more day that that bastard gets to extort and pull the strings of my people.” His fingers drop from yours. “Please try to understand.”

Yoongi turns and begins walking back to the front of the cottage. You mean to follow him and apologize, but Joon calls out to you from the garden. “Just a moment, please.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching Yoongi disappear around the corner before turning and finding Joon standing just on the other side of the opening of the moon gate. “What’s up?” you try not to sound too irritated, but you’re not sure it works.

Joon rubs the back of his neck, eyes locked onto the ground at your feet. “I was not sure when would be a good time, but I wanted to give you this before you went back in.” He looks up, extending his hand toward you. In his open palm rests a single white flower, the petals wide and curling haphazardly. “It is called Silver Ward. We use it to control the moon cycle of a female. I believe from what JK has told me of your world…you would call this birth control.”

That has warmth settling into your cheeks. “Oh. Thank you, I think.” You take the flower, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger. “What, um, what exactly do I do with it?” The bud left a chalky residue on Joon’s palm, and you can feel the powdery texture between your fingers.

“You need just one petal. Let it dissolve under your tongue. I am told it tastes like sweet cream. It offers protection for up to one moon cycle. I grow it here in the garden if you have need of more,” he says the last part hurriedly, giving you a shy smile before gesturing back through the moon gate. “If you need anything, we will be…here.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you,” you offer, blowing out your cheeks and eyeing the small white flower again. You turn to go, but Joon clears his throat, making you look back.

“I know this is unconventional, and you and Yoongi are practical strangers, but go easy on him. These are new waters for him to navigate. He will most likely make a fool of himself at least once.” And with that, Joon disappears back into the garden. You stand there easily more confused than you were before. You’re not sure what exactly Joon means concerning Yoongi, but there is only one way to find out.

The sun has risen above the trees by now, but the interior of Joon’s cottage is dark, the curtains over the windows drawn. A small fire burns in the hearth, illuminating enough to see the flower now nestled in your palm. You pluck off a single petal, the chalky coating feels silky against your fingers. You set the flower on the dining table and bring the petal up to your lips. It tastes like marshmallow fluff and disintegrates quickly under your tongue.

There are a myriad of new smells inside the small space, but the most prominent is a mixture of pine and orange blossom. With each breath you take, you’re sure you can distinguish the different smells on a deeper level than before, almost like you’re experiencing them with more than just your sense of smell. Already you feel so different, and you’re not even fully bonded to Yoongi. Before you can let yourself dwell too much on the changes and the unknown that’s to come, you take a deep breath and approach the door to the bedroom.

“Here goes nothing, I guess,” you mumble to yourself. The door to the bedroom is pushed nearly closed, leaving just a line of soft firelight revealed from within. You stand at the threshold, listening for a moment.

“You need this. You better not mess this up. We know the basics. It is not so dissimilar to—“ The floor under your feet creaks as you try to inch closer to hear him more clearly, cutting off his personal pep talk.

Knowing you’ve been caught, you ease open the door and step inside. “Sorry, I was just—whoa! Oh god!” You throw up your hands, slapping them over your eyes. “What are you doing?!” The image of Yoongi standing in front of the fireplace stark naked might as well be burned into your retinas. You can still see it just as vividly, even with your eyes now squeezed closed.

Yoongi makes a distressed noise, fumbling over his words in confusion. “I thought—is this not—umm, would you like me to cover up?” You can hear the rustle of fabric and his light footsteps as they draw near. “I am sorry.” He’s so close that his words, laced with his distinct clove and cedar scent, ghost over the backs of your hands where they’re still covering your face.

The stories got it all wrong, you’re sure. Fae don’t charm people with their glamors; surely all they do is remove their clothing, and the person is entranced. You can’t get the slow curve of where his spine meets his ass out of your head; the way his shoulders appear wider without a shirt, or how his waist tapers in to accentuate the angles of his hip bones. You only caught a brief glimpse as he turned from facing the fire to looking in your direction, but it was enough to fully flesh out all the intimate details.

You’re not a prude by any means. You actually consider yourself very sex-positive and forward-thinking. However, you suddenly feel like you belong in a nunnery, which is absurd. Shaking away the residual thoughts of habits and virtue, you lower your hands and open your eyes.

Yoongi is standing right before you, his black brows pinched in concern. The purple and green checkered quilt tucked under his arms seems comical now, considering you already know what it’s hiding. “You don’t have to do that,” you wave a hand toward the quilt. “I just wasn’t expecting to walk in and see you—umm, like that, is all.”

“I was nervous,” Yoongi admits shyly. “I thought if I went ahead and removed some barriers, it would make it easier.”

That makes you laugh and lightens the mood instantly. “Well, I guess that makes us even, at least. We’ve each seen the other naked without expecting it.”

“So it would seem,” Yoongi muses playfully.

You clear your throat, trying to think of something thoughtful to say that doesn’t involve asking him to drop the blanket so you can get another look. “Why are you nervous?”

He studies you briefly before opening his mouth but doesn’t answer your question. “JK chose correctly,” he says instead, a slight smile on his face as his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes. “Beautiful is the perfect name for you…you are absolutely exquisite. I hate that I am just now getting a true look at you up close.”

“Oh.” Heat creeps into your cheeks, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. “Thanks, I think. Umm, should we?” You nod toward the bed, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you.

Yoongi glances at the bed and then back at you. “Would it be okay if I kiss you first? Just to get over some of my nerves.”

All you can do is nod, caught as you are swimming in the serenity you find in Yoongi’s eyes. His lips are light against yours at first, just a soft brush. The flavor of clove and spice bursts on your tongue as you inhale, tasting his harried exhale as he presses his lips more firmly to yours.

Your fingers find themselves fisting into the blanket covering Yoongi’s chest as you try to draw him closer. His taste is intoxicating, spicy, and exotic. The first brush of his tongue against yours has your knees going weak. He brings his arms around you, effortlessly supporting you as you take over the kiss.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. You feel consumed with desire and the need to mark this fae as yours. That intense pulse inside your chest is compounding, intensifying into a roaring storm. Yoongi lets out a soft moan that spurs you on, your fingers loosening the blanket and letting it drop to the floor between you. “What am I doing?” you pant, mildly appalled by your own brazen behavior. “It’s like I can’t stop.”

“My m-magick—ah, it is calling to you,” Yoongi moans as your lips break away from his to move along his jaw. You nip and lick down his neck and press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone.

Yoongi staggers back a step, breaking free of your hold, gasping and clutching at the center of his chest. “Seven Hells! It is like you are beneath my skin,” he speaks the words you thought to yourself earlier.

“I know,” you moan breathily. With the step he’s taken back, you’re now free to see what you only got a glimpse of before. It’s just as pleasing, maybe even more so, considering the very impressive erection that he’s now sporting. His cock is blushed pink at the head, a glistening bead of moisture pooling along his tip. “I need to feel more of that. Whatever that is,” you fist a hand over your own chest, “whatever this is.”

Licking your lips, you can feel how aroused you are. The pulsing between your thighs is accentuated when you step toward Yoongi. He backs up, and you continue forward, smirking at the shy alarm on his face. “I-I am not sure what to do.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, chuckling softly. “You have done this before, right?”

Yoongi flinches when the backs of his knees bump into the foot of the bed. “Well, I—uh, sort of.”

“Mini?” His name leaves your mouth as a breathy question.

“That is different. It is…not like this,” he admits, eyes wide as you press your body to his. “If you had a cock I might know what to do with it.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Take my clothes off.”

Yoongi gives you a sharp look, raising an eyebrow like he expects you to be playing with him. He settles against the end of the mattress, his weight dips the downy material, putting him now at eye level with you. “Your clothes?” he smirks. “I was annoyed, at first, when I saw you wearing these. Apparently, Joon thought it would be funny to have you parading around in my clothes, marking them with your scent.”

The linen fabric of the top shreds easily under his hands, his fingers sliding between two buttons and pulling until they all pop, scattering across the room. You can’t help but moan. Your chest heaves as you try to regain some composure, sucking in stilted breaths laced with cedar and clove. “Do you need me to give you a step-by-step guide to a woman’s body?” you go for a bit of snark to try and tip the power balance back in your favor.

All evidence of Yoongi’s previous shy awkwardness has vanished. “I think I can figure it out,” he whispers before leaning forward and pressing an opening-mouthed kiss to the fabric covering your left nipple. Your bra is lacey, quickly becoming sheer as Yoongi laves his tongue over it.

You shudder under his mouth, tentatively resting your hands on his shoulders. “Take it off,” you urge.

Yoongi leans back, strings of saliva connecting his parted lips to your breast. “You taste like solstice rain and moonlight. I do not know how else to describe it.” His fingers make quick work of the remnants of the tattered top. He fumbles with the clasp of your bra, but before you can move to help him, he simply snaps the strap—the sound of fabric rending tears through the air with your own gasp of barely restrained surprise.

“I needed that,” you whine, trying to step back and away from Yoongi before he ruins any more clothing.

“No.” He bares his teeth, glaring up at you through a lust-filled haze. “It is unfair to keep yourself so restricted.”

You roll your eyes and giggle softly as Yoongi grabs at you and brings you back in close. “What’s unfair is how long it’s taking you to undress me.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let the straps of your bra fall down your arms and discard it on the floor.

“I will take my time, and you will be patient,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your now exposed chest. “You are making me ache in ways I never knew possible, like a hunger that can not be sated.”

He slides his hands up your stomach, letting his fingers spread across your ribs and thumbing over your pert nipples, kneading the rounded flesh of your breasts. “Does it always feel like this? Y’know, with a fae?” you question with a gasp.

“This is the first time I have experienced something like this,” he admits, a dopey smile tugging at his lips to expose his pointed canines. “I feel drunk whenever I touch you like I am high on moon wine and blue caps.”

His breath is warm against your skin as he dips forward and latches onto one nipple and then the other. “I might cum if you keep doing that,” you moan as he does it again, spreading his attention between them equally. “It’s like you’re sucking right on my clit.”

“I do not know what this clit is, but I would like to find out,” his words are muffled against your skin, reverberating through your chest and right down to your aching core.

You find your hands fisting into his silver hair, encouraging him to continue exploring your chest with his tongue and teeth. “Let me show you,” you plead. Relenting, curious to continue learning your body, he pulls away and pants against your sternum. “The pants.” He drops his hands down to the fastening on your borrowed pants and methodically unties the knot, letting them fall lax around your hips. Earlier, after your bath, you put your bra back on but decided to forgo your panties, thinking a slightly damp shirt was better than wet pants.

Yoongi’s eyes follow the pants as they slip down your thighs, and his breath hitches as they hit the floor, allowing your sweet and intoxicating scent to permeate the air of the room thoroughly. “You smell so sweet. Show me.”

“Here,” you breathe, bracing your hands on his shoulders and slowly bringing one of your legs up, perching your foot on the bed beside his hip, opening yourself to him. Your half-mast eyes meet his as he stares up at you. The gold and green of his eyes are nearly consumed whole by the black of his blown pupils.

“Fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. “It is almost too much,” he grits, bringing one of his hands down to fist around his weeping cock. He hisses in a sharp breath, stroking slowly up and down before finally opening his eyes and letting them drift down to where you are exposed to him.

Slowly reaching down, you grab his other hand and bring it up between your thighs. You guide his fingers, probing them along your lower lips until they brush over your clit. “This is it. It’s very sensitive,” you suck in a breath as he swirls his fingers in a circle.

“Interesting,” he muses. “I wonder what would happen if…” his words trail off as he catches one of your nipples between his teeth and lightly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You jerk against him, crying out from the mix of pleasure and pain. “Yoongi!” When his name leaves your lips, you feel his body go rigid, and a strangled sound emanates from his throat.

That tether inside your chest pulls taut, and you’re pretty sure you can feel him even more now. Not only does it feel like he’s beneath your skin, it feels like he’s invaded every molecule of your being. His breath is your breath, his heartbeat thumps to the same rhythm as yours, and the arousal pumping through his body echoes through you with a shiver down your spine.

His lips come off your nipple with an audibly wet pop, the sensation making you both moan wantonly. “Where do I put my cock, Beautiful? I need to mate with you before I lose my mind.”

“Fuck me,” you correct. “You need to fuck me before you lose your mind. Mating sounds so clinical, fucking is far more sexy, dirty…naughty.” You push on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back. “Say it.”

“I need to fuck you before I lose my mind,” he emphasizes, voice going husky, letting the words curl his lips up in a smirk. His dark eyes track your movements as you follow him onto the bed, moving slowly on your knees as he shifts toward the pillows.

Stopping with your knees to either side of his hips, you settle your ass against the tops of his thighs. The glistening head of his cock smears drips of precum against his stomach as it twitches under your gaze. If you weren’t already so strung out, you’d take him into your mouth and draw more of those guttural moans from him. As it is, the ache between your thighs is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Yoongi isn’t the only one on the brink of losing their mind. You’ve never wanted something so much in your life.

“I want you to feel,” you encourage, taking up both of his hands. You guide one between your thighs, purposefully dragging both of your hands over his swollen cock. His bottom lip is puffy and red from the gnashing he’s giving it. Sticky strands of arousal drip onto your fingers as you press his to your clit again. “Spread your fingers,” you guide his hand further, nudging his fingers to either side of your pussy.

“You are so warm and wet. Is that normal?”

You hum in amusement. “Warm? Generally. Wet? Only if you’re doing it right.” Yoongi makes a satisfactory noise, his eyes taking on a smug softness as he gazes up at you. “Just wait until you feel how warm and wet it is around your cock.” That makes him lick his lips, his gaze sliding down your body until it rests on his fingers, now gently probing around your opening.

His thick erection pulses in your hand when you wrap your fingers around it. They don’t reach all the way around. You give him an appreciative squeeze that has his teeth sinking into his bottom lip again and his hips flexing under you.

You press his other hand against one of your breasts, encouraging him to knead and thumb over your nipple. “You are so soft everywhere. Delicate and sweet. It makes me want to mark you and dirty you up.”

That makes you shudder and whine, his words tugging at that place in the center of your chest. Not being able to hold back any longer, you shift up onto your knees and angle his cock up. With a slow and smooth roll of your hips, you work the head of his cock through your wetness. You can feel his fingers move, rubbing along the crown of his head, smearing your arousal around.

“Fuck. Me,” he growls. If words alone could elicit an orgasm from you, you’re pretty sure it would be those exact ones, spoken in that very tone, coming from this specific male.

Your lips part with a gasp, your walls fluttering in anticipation. A smirk kicks up the corner of your mouth as you give him precisely what he wants. It’s an empowering experience, watching the emotions and feelings morph across his face. The way his lips slowly part until you can see the pink of his tongue resting over his teeth, the hitch in his breath with each additional inch you take; perhaps most potent of all is the heat and all-consuming desire you see bloom in his eyes as he bottoms out inside of you.

There is a moment of suspended time when you can feel your body accepting his, the stretch is delicious in all the right ways. The universe shifts around you, clicking into place so he truly becomes the moon reflected on your ocean—realistically and metaphysically. You know this is the bond expanding and settling into place, the door opening for you to cement that connection to Yoongi’s magick.

Yoongi smoothes his hand across your breast until it’s pressed right over your heart. His other gently slides out from around where he’s stretching you, fingers splaying against your lower stomach and thumb settling against your clit. “I can feel everything, my hands on your skin, the pressure of my cock inside you, the way my magick is ardently beckoning to you. Reach for it,” he urges, flexing his hips again to grind himself inside you.

“What does it feel like?” the words become a moan as you lift up and then drop back down, rocking your hips as you do.

The full-body shudder that goes through him reverberates into you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck and making goosebumps cascade down your arms. “Ecstasy,” he moans, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. His back arches, and you find yourself mesmerized by the incandescence of his skin in the firelight.

You dip down, flicking at one of his nipples with your tongue before sucking a blushing mark beside it. The sound of your body meeting his repeatedly is obscene, the scent of arousal and sweat heavy in the air. With each rise and fall of your body, you accept him deeper until there is no discernible difference, no ending or beginning. You just exist together in the same space.

His magick is like a cool sip of water on a hot summer day, cooling and soothing your throat that you didn’t even know was so parched. It is the finest ambrosia, sweet silk on your tongue. Pinpricks of light break through the shadowy haze of your arousal, keying you into the well inside Yoongi. His eyes snap open, finding yours; glittering stars and fiery planets flit through nebulas of swirling galaxies in their depths, constantly changing with every beat of his heart.

The closer you draw to orgasm, the closer you feel to fully immersing yourself in that pool of starlight and cosmic energy. Just as the moon is forever connected to the tide, this will tether you to him for the rest of your existence. The fear of that, which was palpable before, is now nonexistent. You find comfort in letting your walls down and welcoming Yoongi in.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, moving faster against him. His thumb adds just the right amount of pressure to your clit with each roll of your hips.

“Make me yours,” Yoongi pleads.

His words are the beginning, the tipping of the scales into the endless abyss that is his magick. You cry out, your body surrendering to the pleasure that he provides. The orgasm begins at a violent peak, sucking all the air from your lungs and pulling your muscles so tight they feel like they will snap. The plummet down the other side is exhilarating in high contrast to the tempest, turning from a raging storm into a comforting spring rain. You pulse around him, claiming and marking him as yours, demanding he gives in, too.

You can see the moment he lets go and feel the muscles in his thighs bulge with strain. Warmth floods you with each jet of his cum, punctuated with sharp grunts through his bared teeth. Magick floods the room, encapsulating you and Yoongi in a fog of power so potent you can feel it caressing your skin, thin tendrils of smoke curling around your limbs and weaving through the strands of your hair.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name, completely in awe at what you’re experiencing.

“Mine,” he murmurs in response, looking up at you with complete and utter devotion—surrender—in his lichen and ochre eyes. He raises his hands, cupping your face and gently pulling you down. His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, lingering a moment before deepening.

Pulling back, you break the kiss with a breathy sigh of contentment. “Mine.” The fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, he was nothing more than your captor no longer matters. He is yours as much as you are his. You know you are where you’re meant to be, doing what you’re meant to do. It was always written in the stars—how could it not be?

Easing one of your legs up, you brace yourself and, with his hands on your hips for assistance, pull off him in a gush of sticky warmth. The scent of clove and maple syrup invades the air in a thick wave. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t help but look down at the mess pooling around his half-hard cock and smeared over your inner thighs with a bit of hunger in your eyes.

“Here,” he says, amusement coloring his husky voice. He swirls a long, slender finger through the sticky mess and brings it to your lips. “Taste.”

Your lips part automatically, your tongue poking out slightly in anticipation. His finger presses down on your tongue, firmly depositing the mix of cum. You greedily suck at his finger, moaning at the taste of warm spices and sweet syrup that burst on your tongue.

It’s now on the tip of your tongue to request to suck his cock, but the flicker of seriousness you see on his face stops that line of thought. You shift, slumping onto the bed beside him, never letting your eyes leave his. The finger he had in your mouth goes into his, and he makes a pleased sound deep in his chest, but his face remains alarmingly impassive. You wonder if you concentrate hard enough whether or not the bond will allow you to hear his thoughts. You can feel him trying to tamp down his feelings as it is. The only thing you have clear and unfettered access to is the seemingly endless well of magick he now has.

“I guess we should go then?” you say after a stretch of silence.

He gives you a sharp look, brows pinched. After a moment, they smooth out, and his face softens. “I can feel your uncertainty. No, my beautiful mate, we do not need to go yet. I do not mean to appear so…distant. I am just trying to understand these new feelings,” he trails off in a whisper, dropping one of his hands onto his chest above his heart. The tips of his fingers prod at his skin like he could dig beneath it and find the answers.

“It’s kind of weird, huh?” You rub at your own chest, marveling at the echoed sensation of Yoongi still gently prodding at his own.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him as he rolls over to face you. It surprises you that his cock is fully hard again, resting against your thigh. “I would not call it weird. I would call it extraordinary.”

That makes you feel fuzzy, cottony-sweet in all the right ways. “Tell me about the plan,” you hesitate to ask, but can’t help yourself now. Your fingers brush lightly along his hip as you adjust beside him, absently moving closer.

Yoongi reaches up, brushing hair from your face. His eyes flick over your features, lingering on your lips several times. “We will leave as soon as the moon appears in the sky. It is roughly a two day journey if we move cautiously. We aim to reach an old turret house on the castle's south side. The last time JK did reconnaissance in the area, he found it abandoned. There is a tunnel through the gatehouse there that leads into the dungeons. It was filled with stones and rubble many years ago, but JK has slowly been excavating it over the last handful of years. It should not take long to break through the remainder and make it inside the castle. The rest…” he trails off, shrugging slightly.

“What about Borgia? The guards?” You lick your lips, trying to stay focused on getting some more clarity on his plan. The heat of Yoongi’s body calls to you. You slip your hand onto his side, trailing your fingers over the smooth curve of his hip bone.

“We can talk about those things later,” he dismisses. “I would much rather focus on something else.” He nips lightly at your bottom lip, trying to coax you away from the conversation. “Wait–you can’t really expect just to waltz in there and be welcomed with open arms. You said you were framed for murder. That leads me to believe that everyone believes it. Otherwise, they’d not be following this Chaddick douche in the first place. So, how are you—“ Yoongi cuts off your tirade with a searing kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth as you try to protest weakly. “What are you doing? I was just wondering about th–”

He shifts beside you, rolling so his body fits over yours, his hips pushing your thighs wide. “No,” he says, a light snarl sharpening the word. “None of that—not now. It seems I may have not fucked you thoroughly enough, if you still have a mind to wonder.” There is a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he smirks before adjusting his hips and sliding back into your wet heat with a groan. You gasp, clawing at his back as all thoughts of the holes in his plan are replaced with heady moans and delicious orgasms.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin

It was hard to walk away, leaving Yoongi standing there beside such a devastatingly beautiful creature. The thought makes his lips curl in agitation. It’s not that he hates you. It’s just that he’s jealous of you. So, painfully jealous.

Now that he’s on his way back to Namjoon’s, the sun having set a few hours ago, Jimin feels like he has a clearer head than before. He spent the entire day barking orders at his squadrons, pushing them to train harder than usual. Something he might come to regret in the following days, but he’s resolved to deal with that when and if it comes up. Right now, he focuses on what lies ahead and the journey Yoongi is about to embark on.

To most individuals traversing the Hollow Lands, Namjoon’s clearing looks like a standard meadow with a large oak in the center. Jimin feels a repulsion as he approaches it, something he has to consciously fight against as he comes up to the invisible barrier. It’s how Yoongi has gone the last ten years undetected. Not only does Namjoon’s magickal ward hide the power signatures of another Fey, it also acts as a deterrent, forcing those that don’t know it exists to walk entirely around it without even knowing.

After Yoongi escaped the Unseelie Court, the Hollow Lands were crawling with Unseelie and Seelie guards alike for several months. All in search of the rogue prince. Jimin lamented the entire time, knowing where Yoongi was but wondering whether or not Namjoon could hold the ward. Little did Jimin realize, Namjoon could hold it for far, far longer than any of them thought possible. Though, Jimin is hyper-aware of how much Namjoon’s magick is flagging. He’s glad the ward and strain on his magick won’t be needed much longer.

The large, seeded oak, swathed in shafts of moonlight, comes into view, and Jimin slows his pace, taking as much time as he can to control his breathing and temper. He doesn’t want to snap and snarl at you like a rabid hound constantly, it just happens, and the guilt of it is gnawing at him.

Plastering on a neutral expression, he pushes through the invisible boundary and enters the clearing. The first thing he sees is you and Yoongi, standing on Namjoon’s porch, haloed by the soft glowing lights, with your lips pressed together in a languid kiss. His nose is tickled by your sickly sweet syrupy scent, mixing with his lovers’. A growl forms in his chest, but he swallows it before it can come out.

Jimin clears his throat as he crosses the yard, startling you and Yoongi. Yoongi flinches away from you, putting several inches between your bodies. That familiar guilt rolls in as Jimin watches your expression drop as if Yoongi’s knee-jerk reaction hurts you. Jimin subtly shakes his chin, dismisses it, and looks to Yoongi. “The moon will be at its zenith soon. Have you prepared?”

Namjoon and Jungkook appear from around the side of the house, carrying baskets full of harvested crops. “We began preparing as soon as the sun went down. We’ve been waiting for you,” Jungkook states cooly. He eyes Jimin, daring him to offer up some pitiful excuse for why he is arriving so late.

“I was under the impression we were not going to leave until the moon was at its highest point, giving Yoongi the most access to his magick,” Jimin replies, sounding only mildly annoyed.

“There will not be a we, Mini. You are not going.”

Jimin jerks around to gawk at Yoongi. “Excuse me?”

Yoongi subconsciously brushes his hand against yours as he steps closer to skirt around you and descend the porch stairs. “We have been talking about it and—“

“We? I thought there was no ‘we’?” Jimin interrupts, his annoyance flaring again.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi gestures back to you, “We—Beautiful and I—we, have been talking through the plan and agree that it would be best for you to remain behind just in case something happens. I do not want the wrong people to discover that you have been privy to my whereabouts this entire time.”

Jimin knows that makes sense and is exceptionally logical, but it still burns him inside. “What does she know?” he sneers. “She is barely Fey. What can she possibly offer in this situation other than her cunt!?”

“Watch what you say,” Yoongi warns in a voice like cold steel. “I have been nothing but patient with you, Mini. But I will not tolerate your tantrums much longer. Do not let my love for you blind you to all else. You will stay here, or you can go back to the Seelie Court, but you are not coming, and that is final.”

That burn intensifies, consuming Jimin in a conflagration of sorrow and anger. He chews his tongue until the metallic taste of blood bubbles in his mouth. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, wondering if they’ll be able to come back from this or if he’s lost him to the human forever. He finally drops his eyes, backing down from the argument. “So be it,” he mumbles.

Namjoon and Jungkook amble up the steps, setting the food baskets by the door. “The bags are almost ready,” Namjoon tells Yoongi. “I just have a few more items to add.”

“You honor me,” Yoongi replies, affectionately clapping Namjoon on the shoulder. “It will not be much longer, my friend.”

There is a haggardness around Namjoon’s eyes that Jimin hadn’t noticed before. The strain on his magick has never been more apparent. It helps break him out of his internal battle, pushing aside his grievances to deal with later.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Jimin hears you telling Yoongi.

“Everything will be fine, Beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin watches you shake your head and your brow furrow as you take up one of Yoongi’s hands. “I don’t like it. There’s still so much we don’t know about this,” you gesture between yourself and Yoongi. “What if it’s too much and we can’t navigate the flood properly? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin can’t help himself. He’s curious as to what you’re whining about. Curious about your bond in general, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your eyes slowly shift to Jimin, and he feels like a bug under a looking glass, being examined for flaws by you. “I want Yoongi to wait, a day at least, so he can experiment and get used to the new level of power he has now. I can feel it,” you absently pat your chest, making Jimin realize you’re wearing another of Yoongi’s shirts. He tries to shove down the envy that rears up, only barely managing to keep the sneer off his face. “It’s chaotic and unruly…it scares me.”

Jimin scoffs. “Of course it scares you. You are not Fey. You are not used to the ways of magick. Have some faith in your mate. I know you have barely known him for a day, but I have known him most of my life. Take it from someone who truly loves him. If he says he will be fine, then he will be.” He’s so intent on lashing at you that he misses the hurt he causes reflected in Yoongi’s eyes.

You frown at Jimin, chewing your bottom lip. “I do…um, have faith in him. I’m just…it’s hard to explain.”

Yoongi turns his eyes on you, and at that moment, Jimin almost drops to his knees. But, instead, he remains on his feet, swaying slightly as he silently anguishes over the adoration he sees in the depths of Yoongi’s gaze, the passion that was once meant only for him but is now shining so brightly for you.

“With you and JK with me, nothing can go wrong. We have two days of travel to work on control. We will be fine,” he assures, kissing your forehead softly.

“She’s going with you?” The words are caustic, like acid burning up his throat.

Yoongi sighs. “Yes. She and JK will accompany me. They will remain outside once we get to the castle while I confront Chaddick.”

“Ready to go whenever you are, boss,” Jungkook calls, coming out of the house ladened with three rucksacks and a string of metal canteens. “Beautiful, you get the tiny bag,” he chuckles, handing you the smaller of the three bags.

Jimin notes the amusement in your eyes as you swat at Jungkook affectionately. It seems the two of you have made up in the time he’s been away. It makes Jimin curious about what else you’ve managed to do. He glances at Namjoon, coming down the steps behind Jungkook.

“Packed enough food for the journey and then some.” Namjoon smiles, offering you a small loaf of something wrapped in a blue linen cloth. “Bread for tonight.”

“I tried to convince him that a loaf of bread isn’t really sensible for travel like this, but you know how he is,” Jungkook chides, playfully elbowing Namjoon in the ribs with a laugh.

“You will not be complaining tonight when you eat half of it yourself,” Namjoon murmurs. It makes Jungkook laugh again, their light banter continuing. Jimin watches, trying to come to terms with the myriad of emotions he’s feeling.

Yoongi takes one of the packs from Jungkook, securing it on his back comfortably before helping you with yours. “Joon,” Yoongi turns to Namjoon, embracing him. “Without you, we would have been lost long ago. It is time, my friend. Rest.”

Namjoon nods his head, eyes glistening with emotion. “It has been my pleasure.”

The moment the ward disappears, Jimin can feel it. His own magick prickles with the loss of such a powerful expression. He had never paid much attention to just how quiet the barrier made the glade. A cacophony of sounds infiltrates the small space around the house, bugs and birds, and all other manner of creature noises.

The seeded oak in the center of the clearing rustles in the wind, the leaves perking up ever so slightly as the strain of the ward lifts off of Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Take care while we are gone. I will send word as soon as possible, if you do not hear something beforehand.” Yoongi shifts his attention from Namjoon to Jimin. “Mini, it might be wise to check in with the Seelie Court sometime between now and three days from now to solidify your alibi just in case.”

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “This is absurd. I could just as easily wait outside the castle with JK. Besides, what if you need someone who can actually help if things go badly?”

“I already said—“ Yoongi begins but, to Jimin’s surprise, you step forward and cut him off.

There is no hostility in your eyes, which makes Jimin irritated all the more. He wishes you would yell and scream at him, shake a finger in his face or something to paint you in a negative light—to validate his dislike for you. “Mini,” the way you say his name so calmly makes him want to spit, “I know how much you care for Yoongi, but it wouldn’t be doing him any favors if you somehow got caught or found out to be with him. He explained to me much of what you have both endured the last ten years, don’t throw it away now.”

“You talked to her about us?” Jimin doesn’t bother to mask the hurt in his voice.

Shaking his head, not in denial but in exhaustion for this back and forth, Yoongi spreads his hands. “I do not know what you want from me. I am doing the best I can right now, Mini. Please…just, try. Try to be understanding. You and I both know this makes sense.”

Jimin wants nothing more than to lash out, continue arguing his point until Yoongi relents—leaving behind you and taking him instead. But, the way you look at Yoongi, almost like you pity him for having to put up with Jimin’s bullshit, has him swallowing down his next snide retort. The bridge between him and Yoongi is already hanging precariously by a fraying thread that’s maple flavored and you-shaped. He can’t afford to see it weaken further because of his own wounded pride.

“We need to move now while the moon is high. The darkness will help conceal us, but we can also use the additional power to cloak with,” Jungkook states, breaking the awkward tension, offering a brief nod in farewell to Namjoon and Jimin.

Jungkook has already moved to the edge of the tree line, waiting patiently for Yoongi and you to follow. An awkward moment passes as Yoongi and Jimin stare at each other. You offer Jimin a tight smile before pushing onto your toes and whispering something into Yoongi’s ear. Jimin wishes he could read your mind or that you’d speak aloud instead of in hushed tones. You pat Yoongi on the shoulder, turn without another word, and join Jungkook, your back to the clearing.

Yoongi closes the distance between himself and Jimin, reaching up with both hands and cradling Jimin’s face as he’s done countless times before. Jimin’s eyes flutter closed, a sob catching deep in his chest. He refuses to cry right now. He won’t let you see his weakness and how much this is hurting him. His resolve almost flags when Yoongi’s lips press to his, that familiar taste of clove flooding his senses, bringing with it a hint of maple that is far more alluring than it has a right to be.

It’s over far sooner than Jimin would like, but he’s too stunned to react. “You do not give her enough credit, my love. She deserves more than your ire.”

Whatever response Jimin had died on his tongue as Yoongi stepped away, giving him a sad smile before turning. He doesn’t look back as he joins you and Jungkook. Jimin stands there, staring until your group disappears in the gloom of the trees. Even then, he remains rooted to the spot, uncertain of what to do.

“Join me?” Namjoon asks. Jimin shakes himself, turning toward Namjoon, who nods to the baskets of potatoes and peas sitting on his porch. “Just like old times.”

“Of course.” Jimin nods, willing away the sadness threatening to swallow him whole. “I will welcome a good distraction.”

Namjoon moves up to the porch and eases himself down to sit on the edge of it, long legs making his feet nearly touch the ground. He pats the porch beside him. Jimin pulls over a basket of peas and has a seat.

Picking up one of the green pods, he presses his thumb into the seam and pops it open, depositing the dozen or so peas into the empty basket Namjoon places between them.

“Is it really so bad?” Namjoon asks. He doesn’t pose it as a snide question but as a genuinely concerned inquiry.

Jimin grabs another pod, methodically opening it and shelling the peas into the basket. “You would think after all this time, I would have developed some sense of acceptance regarding this situation. Perhaps I even thought I might have, but it seems that would be incorrect.”

“She is not that bad, you know.” Namjoon is efficient in his shelling, working through handfuls of pods simultaneously.

“I can see that, be assured. I just—Seven Suns—I am being an asshole. I do not mean to be. There is something I can not shake no matter how hard I try.” Jimin accidentally smashes a pea in frustration, flicking the ruined green mush into the yard. “I love him and fear that may not be enough now. I can not bring him the joys that she does. There is nothing more powerful than a mated bond.”

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls between them, Namjoon letting Jimin take the space he needs. Jimin knows he can speak plainly to his friend. After all, he has known Namjoon even longer than he has Yoongi. Namjoon used to reside within the Seelie Court, the son of a gardener on the very grounds where Jimin grew up. They were fast friends and crib mates when Namjoon’s mom would sometimes help the Seelie Queen tend to the younglings.

Namjoon is the reason Jimin did not neglect his duties as crown prince, and Jimin is the reason Namjoon now lives a life of solitude in the Hollow Lands. It was an accident, but no less Jimin’s fault for being careless. Namjoon had been helping him sneak out of the castle to meet with Yoongi secretly, helping foster the budding of their never-meant-to-be romance. They were caught one night. Jimin received guard duty as punishment. But Namjoon was turned out of the castle, not permitted to return.

Hours have passed and Jimin is so deep in his thoughts of life from before, that it takes Namjoon a few tries to get him to snap out of it. “Jimin! Jimin! I thought I heard—”

“Huh, what?” Jimin blinks his eyes, throwing a glance at Namjoon. Namjoon is staring into the distance. The sun is just beginning to peek over the trees, the spaces beneath still heavily shadowed. Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but a pained scream echoing from the trees cuts him off. “What was that?”

“That sounds like—“ Another gut-wrenching scream rips through the air.

They’re both on their feet in seconds, leaping effortlessly off the porch, peas scattered and forgotten. “Can you get the ward back up?” Jimin asks, a feverish pitch to his words.

Namjoon licks his lips, perspiration already beginning to bead on his brow as he gathers the strength to attempt it. “I do not know, but I will try.”

“Here,” Jimin mindlessly snatches at the pendant around his neck, popping the links of the chain it’s attached to in the process. “Use this.” He drops the crescent moon necklace they used for the bonding ceremony in Namjoon’s palm. Implements used for bonding retain residual powers that can be used as amplifiers, like an echo of the magick the bond was created with. Jimin hopes it’s enough.

Namjoon closes his eyes and begins to mumble words under his breath. “It will not be as big, just focused directly around the house…but it will have to do.”

Jimin steps forward after another scream peals through the air, closer now. His feet falter as two figures come into view, stumbling out of the gloomy covering of the trees. “Seven Suns!” Jimin curses, frozen in shock at the sight before him.

His feet finally move as if with a mind of their own. He lurches forward, arms catching the smaller, bloodied form before it hits the ground.

Your cheeks are marred with jarring splashes of raven-colored liquid. Unseelie Blood. The metallic tang burns Jimin’s nose as he hauls you against his chest. Pitiful whimpers bubble past your lips, your whole body trembling in his hold. A faltering, equally bloody Jungkook hits the grass beside him, barely within the new barrier Namjoon has erected.

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon drops beside Jungkook, frantic hands patting at his friend, checking his vitals.

“Sh!” Jungkook huffs, slapping a hand over Namjoon’s mouth. Despite being obviously injured, Jungkook pushes up into a sitting position, eyes locked on the treeline they just stumbled from.

The sounds of shouting pick up a moment later, and then a cluster of silhouettes move along about fifty yards in. It’s hard to hear what they’re talking about, but the few words Jimin catches have his hands tightening around you.

The new ward is up, but Jimin isn’t sure how long Namjoon can hold it. If it were to drop before the guards move on, they’d be far outnumbered. It would be an impossible battle. His eyes flick to Jungkook, taking a moment to assess his condition. There is already a dark wet patch on the grass beneath him. The entire right side of his body is drenched in black blood…hard to tell if it’s his or someone else's.

Jimin grits his teeth, silently willing the guards to move on. They finally do, pushing further west. You’re practically catatonic in Jimin’s arms, he realizes after finally looking back down at you. Your head is listing to the side, and your eyelids are drooping heavily. Pulling you away from his chest, he realizes bright crimson is coloring your front. He quickly traces the blood, finding the source—a fingers-width-sized knife wound in your right side. He can’t tell how deep it is, but probing with his magick tells him it’s not immediately life-threatening.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook croaks, trying but failing to shift over to you. “Is she okay?”

That is the furthest thing from Jimin’s mind right now. There is only one thing he can focus on. Even though he fears the answer, Jimin forces the words past his lips, “Where is he? Where is Yoongi?”

Jungkook lets out a despairing sob, collapsing back into the grass. Namjoon begins to assess for wounds, tearing away Jungkook’s clothing methodically.

You pitifully grab at the front of Jimin’s shirt, your eyes locking onto his turquoise ones with a fleeting moment of clarity. “T-th-they took him.”

It’s like a dagger to Jimin’s heart.

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yoongsisbae · 2 years

Text

You Asked for Help, He Asked Your Name | PJM

You ran away from your responsibilities, but they caught you and tried to lay claim to your body. If your life was never going to be yours anyways, you decided might as well give it away and make a deal.

BTS Fantasy AU. fairyprince!Jimin x reader

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, this story discusses triggering topics, SA, arranged marriage, PTSD, religion, dubcon, violence against women, murder, blood, gore, reader manipulation, oral sex f+m, sex, inexperienced!y/n

Word Count: 7.4k

---

‘I tried my best,’ you thought.

‘I knew it might not work,’ you thought, ‘but at least I tried.’

Grass and flowers and mushrooms crushed beneath you and you lay crushed beneath him.

‘The sky looks pretty passing through the leaves,’ you thought, looking up. ‘The sun looks bright, like fire.’

Days after you think upon this moment, that is what you remember the most, the way the light came through those leaves, the scatter of buds barely blooming across the branches, a light shade of yellow that seemed to glow under the sun so vividly, and the vivid pain in your heart.

Then you closed your eyes, held tight to that image of light, and silently screamed.

You weren’t aware of where you truly were, of where you had mindlessly ran to hoping to break free of the cuff around your finger, but you had fallen upon the entrance of a portal between your world and another. You didn’t know your thoughts could be heard.

So when you heard a velvety voice respond in the deep recesses of your mind, you thought it was just your own self, comforting you when no one else could.

But the voice belonged to something else, not anything of this world. He watched the sight before him passively, curious, and though he did not follow the laws of good and evil, though he was not accustomed to the traditions of this world, as he watched he felt the wrongness of what he was witnessing, as visceral as you felt it.

‘Help!’ You thought.

‘Do you want my help?’ the voice asked.

---

Your life had been a series of decisions made by people who claimed to love you but never really actually listened to you, never asked what you wanted, what you needed, only told you what they expected of you. Nothing was really yours in the end, not your future, your decision to marry, and certainly not your body.

You weren’t happy, even as those around you gave their blessings on what should have been your happiest day. Your tears were not for show, you cried of despair, because you knew the life that really had never been yours was now tied to a man until death.

It was only when you had truly given up hope that you decided to escape everything. You planned your escape quickly, carelessly in desperation. You took a bag of jewelry, gold you hoped could buy you freedom. And one inconspicuous night, after he was fed and pleased and taken to sleeping like a satisfied pig, you left.

But he and his brother searched after you. You knew you had no one on your side and he had everyone. So when they found you, you thought of nothing but running. You ran until pebble turned to grass, only hoping to lose sight of them, only wishing to be free.

‘Give me one last chance,’ you thought when they finally caught you. ‘This cannot be!’

It was unforgivable what you had done, you had disrespected your husband. Angry, humiliated, and disgusted you would betray him, you were victim to the temperaments of violent men who wanted retribution.

‘Not again,’ you thought, ‘no no no no no.’

You closed your eyes and silently begged, screaming your thoughts so loud, trying to drown out the heavy grunts and disgusting jeers that splintered what was left of your faith with every injury to your body. You begged for help, for anyone to come save you. You prayed for a miracle.

Quiet sobs and whimpers escaping, your soul screamed.

It was your last bit of fight, unwilling to let them destroy all of you. You didn’t know your screams were heard. Your thoughts were being listened to.

‘Help!’ You thought, ‘Help me!’

Again, the velvet voice said. ‘Do you want me to help you?’

‘Yes,’ you begged, ‘Yes!’

‘Do you want me to stop them…to kill them?’

‘Yes, kill them, kill them, I wish they felt the pain they’ve caused.’ You imagined your captors sliced from head to toe, bodies brutalized so they could never hurt another woman again. You cried.

‘What is your name?’

You bit down sobs, screams threatening to escape as the dull ache becomes piercing once again, dimming the light behind your tightly shut eyes.

‘Die die die. Let them die, they deserve death.’

‘Your name?’

Your lungs burning, you allowed your name to travel past the tight lump in your throat, one small barely audible whisper in answer choked out.

‘Wonderful! How beautiful, perfectly suited to you!’

The voice repeats your name over and over again. And you repeat your wishes over and over again. ‘Make it stop now, make it stop, please…please!’

Against the harsh scrape of wood, your head knocking into tree roots, you felt something new, something warm next to you apart from the coldness of the dirt, a delicate hand so softly placing a tiny flower behind your ear. Too afraid to open your eyes, you thought of glowing yellow petals.

The man above you pauses and you finally had courage to look.

The sight was what you wished for, red cascading down, drops falling on your cheeks mixing with your tears. The handle of an intricate knife lodged deep in the center of your husband’s throat.

You follow the handle to its wielder, arm outstretched, forearm flexed, his head tilts down and he sends you a dangerous smile before he pulls the blade out as quick as it entered.

You gasp and he smiles wider, stabbing over and over again, blood raining down on your aching body, you might as well be drowning in it.

“Y/n.” The stranger’s words snap you out of your stupor, his voice the same tone you had heard in your mind, now so clear and crisp, eyes shining with happiness.

“I kept him alive for you, he is yours.”

Yours? His life? His fate?

You had lost yourself, but you had gained more.

You pushed yourself up, staring at your husband, his bloodied chest heaving, gasping for air. Something hard pressed up into your palm, you felt the smooth handle of the stranger’s knife appear like magic. Your fingers dug into the ruined earth, your hand now gripping the knife tightly.

The stranger was gone like he never was. Had he even been? The knife in your hand was your only clue now. It was you and your husband alone. His brother gone too, taken to running away in fright.

You gripped the knife tighter until your fingers stung, the subdued ache in your muscles that you’ve forgotten in your shock now returning as well. It made you angry.

He looked up at you, coughing up blood. His ugly face, now perfectly matching his ugly heart. You gripped the knife tighter. You gripped it tighter, it was real, it was your freedom in the palm of your hand. It made you cry, made you angry, made you happy, made you stand up.

Your husband lay crawling away in the dirt, like a wounded pig. Even on shaky legs you were able to move ahead of him, foot pressing into his skull to stop his shameful retreat.

You bent down, held the intricate beautiful handle of the knife in both hands, pressing it down into the back of his neck. The blade glided so smoothly, it surprised you how easy it had been. You grit your teeth, twisting the dagger, “How does it feel?” you ask, “to be penetrated against your will?”

Your husband, your attacker, grunted, shallow breathing slowing down, and you begin to hear a soft melodious laughter filling the woods behind you.

You knelt down like you had done so many times before in prayer, pressing your head to the earth, mouth next to your husband’s ear. “May you die knowing it was a woman who took your life. May your last thought be of me, knowing that it was I, not you, I was the one who took away your chance at paradise.” You would have screamed your words, but like your pleas, you held your pain in still, whispering low, your eyes full of wrath meeting his terrified stare, he heard you loud and clear.

You dragged the knife out of him, satisfied he will never have the opportunity to hurt you in this life or in the afterlife. “Die.”

Your muscles ached with every step you took, your body following the music echoing through the trees. It was slow travel, but you felt…light. Your heart was unburdened. You maneuvered your way between branches until you saw what you thought you had merely dreamed up, a man so alien in appearance, so beautiful and ethereal, smiling at you as if you were the best of friends. Pointed ears, striking bright eyes, and the same dangerous smile, he was real. And at his bare feet...the shivering whimpering brother had not outrun his sins after all. His body curled into himself, his hands held above his head together in prayer, now begging you not to end his life.

The stranger’s eyes travel down your bloodied hand, falling upon the knife you still braced. “Y/n! I brought you another gift.”

The brother wailed for mercy, reciting stuttering prayers, spewing words out quickly to cover the length of his sins. You scoffed at the pathetic sight.

Prayer is meaningless in this place as it was in your home. How many times did you kneel and pray, did you ask for help? How many days did your head touch the earth, hoping one day to be able to prostate in a better place? And yet you ended up here. Right here. Covered in bruises, covered in blood, your heart broken and your body broken, your faith finally broken.

It wasn’t prayer that saved you, not really, you know this when your eyes meet that stranger’s shining gaze and his devilish smile, clothes glittering so strangely in the sunlight. It surprised you, the tug of your own lips you felt, unable to stop the smirk lifting up.

Does he think he will be freed? Did he think he will be sent to paradise now? When there is no realm in heaven fit for this animal. This man and his false sense of superiority was now begging you for mercy, suddenly with an understanding of it.

No! Judgment is a cold dagger, given by a trickster, bestowing power to a powerless woman.

“Y/n, come.”

You looked up, away from the blood, pulling the knife from the brother’s body one last time and nodded. What else could you do but follow? Committed a sin, you turned your back on the world that treated you so unjust.

Paradise is a ring of mushrooms, a creature so beautiful you can’t look away, who looks back at you as if you were precious treasure, hand outstretched the same way as when you first saw him.

And this time you decided the course of your life, reaching with your own hand for something more.

---

The hand you took belonged to no ordinary creature of the otherworld, he was a prince among his kind, a legend even to the legendary. Prince of the Faes, Jimin’s curiosities lead him away from his Kingdom, pulled by the cries of…a human?

The two worlds have always been separated, but as human interest grew away from the magicalness of nature and into rigid concrete structures and metal fixtures and technology and electricity and everything his kind despised, it was less and less likely for the two worlds to meet.

As royalty, Jimin had everything in his world at the tips of his fingers. But his power was also intrinsically tied to his world, he could not pass the boundaries with his powers…unless…

It was the first time he felt his realm breached. And then a far lonely cry, soft and pleading, calling out to him.

It was only when he had a human connection, a name, your name, could he fully step into the human realm and unleash his power without any restraint, with out any worry, and how much fun it had been!

You were magnificent! A worthy ally, the perfect vassal. Oh, it was a delight watching you transform in front of his eyes, taking every opportunity he had presented.

You could not even look upon his first gift, so his second gift came swift. The sudden outrage he felt witnessing the true cruelty of mankind contained to the precise tip of his dagger, for him it wasn’t a gift of vengeance, it was a tool to right the scales of balance that were so unfairly tipped. Because sometimes, for the Prince of Faes, righteousness was gratifying, and it was so delightful to be...vicious.

---

Perhaps you died, you think. There is no such beauty in the world you knew, no colors as bright as the ones that adorned the new garments that clung to your body. There were no musical chords that sounded as sweet as any note you’ve heard from...was it birds that passed you? Where are you?

The glamour around you made everything so alluring and new. And most enchanting of all, was the creature before you. Delicate yet masculine, calming and formidable, Jimin was an enigma of a man.

“Welcome, y/n.”

“Where am I? What are you? A demon?” You felt the shine of your surroundings wear off just a tiny bit, your mind trying to process the events that occurred.

He laughs a sweet soft chuckle. “No y/n, I’m not a demon.” He looks down at the jewelry adorning his fingers, turning the gold bands with his thumb. “A demon’s path is rigid, too strict for me,” he says dismissively. “Y/n, come.” You listened, your steps stiff and slow. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.” You wince, holding the pain in.

“Come here.” He held out his hand again, but this time you paused. You weren’t used to being so close to strangers like this, your family kept you sheltered…isolated. You gripped his hand, warmth heating your cheeks at the contact…then warmth all over, you gasp and stumble forward, your sore tired body feeling revitalized, feeling anew.

“How did you-”

“It’s a gift,” he breathes, smirking, hands righting your body up, taking in the clumsiness in your movements amusedly. “Your kind breaks too easily.”

“And what is your kind?” you swallow.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” He spins around, looking over his shoulder. “A Fae.”

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know what-”

“It’s okay, you’ll learn,” he smiles mirthfully. “You’re in my world now, so you must listen to me precisely. So you don’t break again.” He plays with the tips of your fingers while the anxiety rose inside you, a trembling he noticed immediately. “Are you still hurt?” He asks confused, you shouldn’t be, he thinks.

“No, I…Why did you save me?”

“Did I save you?” The knife appears again like magic, he balances the intricate handle on one finger, twirling it in the air before catching it. “Here, have it back. It's yours now.”

“T-Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You murmured, mesmerized by the small weapon. Your admission made him smile even wider. “How can I repay you?”

He clapped his hands together. “Y/n...y/n, you’ve already given me a great gift…but I can think of something else as payment, there’s time for that.”

You suddenly realized he knew your name but you had no idea what to call him. “What is your name?”

He paused. “For that, I will need something more.”

“For me to learn your name?” you ask, more confused than you’ve ever been. He nods, studying you again. “I-I have nothing…oh wait!”

Where were the clothes you wore? Where was anything of yours? How did you even arrive in his home, you can’t remember. Jimin's glamour was too powerful, once he held the knowledge of your name, it was like a key opening the door to your mind, the visitor had made himself at home, for you didn't even realize...you had invited him in.

So of course you couldn't remember either, how you've become a guest here in his home. You look around at your surroundings, it was beautiful, greenery twisting around every surface and butterflies resting peacefully, their wings fluttering slowly before taking off and finding another surface to lay upon, and the flowers, oh! You’ve never seen anything so lovely! Oh! “I had a bag-”

“Hmm, this?” The bag appeared so quickly before you, as if fallen out of thin air and into his palms.

“Yes!”

“Beautiful,” he looks inside at the gems, red, blue and green pieces of jewelry. “But not worth a name.”

“It’s all I have,” You huff, “How am I supposed to call you?”

“You could call me ‘Your Highness,’” he smirks. You noticed the shining jewelry in his hair, weaved together by delicate strands of gold. Could he?

“What? Are you really?”

He nods, thumb running across your cheek. You thought briefly of tears, of dirt. It made you shudder, cold memories entering your mind, making you pull away from him.

Jimin frowned. “I could take them too, if you’d like.”

“What?”

“The memories.”

You don’t doubt he can, even if it seems too good to be true. “No, I want to remember. I want to remember all of it,” you muttered, unready to part with the familiar feelings that rushed inside of you. The rage, and the pain, and the victory you had felt.

“Why?” he asks, tilting his head. You continued to fascinate him.

“If I forget it doesn’t change what has been done, what has been done to me.” The life you lived flashed before you as a series of pained memories. That’s what it was, what it could all be boiled down to in the end, pain. It was pain that you were unwilling to part with, pain that strengthened you, that made you unafraid. “Even if it were to help in some way, to forget, it takes away from me…who I am. And I can’t...I won’t have anything more taken.”

“I accept your decision, y/n,” he nods, thumb running across his bottom lip in thought, “but if you change your mind…” He stares into your eyes, so intensely it made you feel self conscious under his gaze. “I could make it so you feel no sadness…or anger,” he reaches for your cheek again, “only joy, only happiness.”

But at what cost? you wonder.

---

Deals struck between one and another is what moves the lives of Fae. More precious than even gold, what is more valuable than our word in the end?

You don’t remember how long it’s been. Time felt like sand, it fell between your fingers so quickly you couldn’t grasp it, felt like sludge around your body, slowing your movements to almost a standstill, you felt frozen in time and pulled through its flow all at once.

“Is she your wife?” you ask Jimin, entering after watching a lovely fairy leave his quarters.

He smirks, “No, y/n. Why?”

You busy yourself by making his bed, dusting off a shimmering fabric fallen to the ground. He follows you around, so light on his feet you cannot even hear his footsteps apart from yours.

“You must love her…very much.” You had listened to their declarations of love all day long, you thought, annoyed.

“Love?” Jimin laughs at that.

“Well, it sounded like you loved each other, quite passionately.” You chewed on the inside of your mouth, smoothing the silky fabric down. Jimin throws his body upon the bed, ruining all your work, craning his neck to look at you, amused by the annoyed look on your face. “Are you feeling…unloved? Would you like some love as well, y/n?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t patronize me.” You kneeled on the soft ground, upon branches and brush woven together to make the palace floor which you sat. Jimin leaned his neck over the edge of his bed, then reached his arms for the floor, flipping his body over to take a seat next to you.

“I don’t think this is a fitting position for a Prince,” you mumble.

“Do Princes in your world not sit next to their subjects?” he muses.

You snort, “No,” suddenly smiling at the thought. “Perhaps for a photo op-ed, to look like good samaritans,” you look over to Jimin as he listens to your words and tries to make sense of the meaning. “But willingly?” you laugh, “No, I can’t imagine that.”

“Interesting,” he lies back, placing his hands underneath his head, watching as small birds flutter around the palace canopy, flying around one another as if they were dancing. He calls your name so you lie down as well, trying to relax your stiff awkward limbs. “And do Princes lie with their subjects in your world?” He turns his head, nose so close he can smell your sweet human scent, hear the whispering of your jumbled thoughts.

You meet his eyes hesitantly. “Well I guess they do, sometimes.” Being so close, you felt pulled in by his gaze, his beautiful bright eyes, his plump lips you imagined were as soft as they looked. Now stretched into a large smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling shyly back, quickly breaking eye contact before you let your urges take over.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Hold yourself back.”

“I-I am not.”

“You do it quite often, hold things in.”

You swallow, quickly sitting up, “And should I be like you?” You look down at him accusingly, letting your anger get the best of you. “And…” you huff, “cavort about all day and night?”

Jimin laughs, “And in your world does every subject speak so brazenly to their Prince?” he challenges, sitting up next to you. He bites his lips, tries to catch your eyes again, but you’re already pulling away, stumbling to your feet, offering your apologies.

---

How long has it been since that first night in the palace? Days? Weeks? You’re not sure, there were no clocks, light never seemed to dull in this place, even the moon lit the world here so beautifully. You had no idea how much time has passed since then, it was time you took to let yourself heal, to let yourself breathe. For so long you felt unable to take a deep breath, fill your lungs in fully. So anxious, so weighted down by your responsibilities, holding it in, like a scream ready to burst free, for so long you just couldn’t allow yourself to breathe.

You were used to the world running along without you, but did you like it? Did you like this place? Even if you could walk the halls of this palace freely, you felt secluded, you felt alone. Where was it that you were going? Back to your room? You were lost again, where were you?

You admired the small insect crawling next to you, inching up the canopy. The gems on your dress catching the light and twinkling on the walls, it was almost as if the small caterpillar were following the shimmering flecks. You looked down at your dress, it was like nothing that you’ve ever worn before, showing more skin than you’ve ever shown. The shiny translucent fabric cascaded over your body. It’s beautiful, you admit, more beautiful than even your wedding dress, and you felt beautiful in it.

“You are beautiful.”

“Y-Your highness?” you turn around to see the familiar Fae studying you again.

“There’s a celebration in the West Wing, do you want to join me, y/n?” He holds his hand out again, and of course, you take it.

You felt the isolation again walking through the West Wing alone. Jimin had been whisked away by two handsome Fae and you were left to your own devices. You dressed like them, even given an intricate jeweled choker by the prince himself, another gift he said, but you were not like them, no matter how you tried to hold your head up high, you couldn’t act as gracefully as them, you couldn’t move as fast as them, you didn’t look as beautiful as them, and you couldn’t, for many reasons, celebrate as vicariously as them.

The faefolk danced and partied without inhibition. You moved awkwardly between them, and they moved to let you pass. Not one touch or look your way, you felt invisible to them. Why, you wondered, would no one even try to make conversation with you? And you were too timid, too shy to ask them to dance. You didn’t understand the laws of this world, that in this world power was traded, bargained cunningly, taken with words rather than force, and the most powerful word of all, was a name. You had already been spoken for by the most powerful of them all.

You watched the way the Fae rolled their bodies, clothes flowing around them, slipping off their shoulders, away from their legs, revealing their thighs, where eager hands glided across their smooth skin. You held your breath, watching, wishing it was you.

“Y/n, come.” A soft voice in your ear brings you out of your thoughts, his breath hot against your cheek.

“Where did you go?”

“Did you miss me?” He smirks. His hair looked more wild than before, his lips pinker, layers of his clothes you notice were missing. You rolled your eyes, turning away.

“No. I didn’t even notice you were gone, I was having so much fun.”

“You shouldn’t lie, y/n.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie again.

He hooks his finger underneath your necklace, pulling your attention to him.

“Is this the 'sarcasm' you were speaking of before?”

“Yes,” you huff, “Are humans unwelcomed here?”

“No,” he frowns, “were you mistreated by someone?” He acts swiftly, moving towards the crowds. His demeanor changed, it sent a chill down your spine, reminded you of blood and anger and revenge, and you quickly reach for him, arms pulling him back at the waist, clinging onto him to stop.

“Don’t!” You didn’t realize how fast your heart was beating, pounding against his back. “I wasn’t!” you took in a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I haven’t even spoken to anyone since you left,” you mutter against his shoulder blades, saddened.

Jimin looked down at your hands, clasped together, holding him tightly. He ran a finger across your arm and felt goosebumps starting to appear. “Y/n, you’re upset.”

“Why won’t anyone else talk to me?” you whisper sadly, grip loosening.

Jimin turns around as you pull away, laying a hand delicately on your shoulder. He pulls the closest Fae towards him, a man with curly flowing hair, a striking jaw, and the same piercing shining eyes as Jimin. “Entertain her.” Jimin nods in your direction.

The Fae smiles wide, a large boxy grin, taking you in from head to toe. “Hello, Lovely.”

“H-Hello. Did you want to dance?”

He nods, bowing at you, but before you can step away Jimin is pulling you back, “You said talk, not dance.”

You swallow, “Everyone else is dancing, why can’t I?” You kept your head up, standing tall, attempting to move towards the other Fae again, but he keeps his head down, moving away at Jimin’s dark glare. You didn’t notice the way Jimin looked at him, but you noticed the way he retreated as you came closer, away from your reach. You huff, holding in tears of rejection. “Fine, I’ll just go dance with someone else,” you mutter, rushing into the crowd of Fae with Jimin following closely behind.

“Y/n!” he hissed in your ear, telling you to stop. The sway of the bodies around you made you dizzy and confused, you moved quicker past them, or were you being pushed? No, pulled away? The music became louder as the room spun around you and then everything became quiet, until you were alone and able to catch your breath.

“What did you do!” you gasp, holding your head. It felt like you had been spinning in circles, only stopping now that you and Jimin were alone. You stumbled, steadying yourself against a branch, your body still feeling the effects.

“Have I ever harmed you? Hurt you? Have I not only given you what you asked for?”

You stumbled again, your body falling into vertigo. “I know-”

“Then why, y/n?! Why would you want to dance with someone else?”

Your legs buckled as your head continued to spin, a hand grabbing your wrist before you can fall to the ground. You hang, body swinging forward into Jimin’s legs.

“Why do you dance with everyone but me!” you yelled your accusations at the ground, unable to look or stand upright. Your body was pulled up as if you weighed nothing, right into Jimin’s embrace. “Why do you lay with everyone but me?”

Did you expect to be whisked away by a Prince and have a love story you have only read in fairytales? Not particularly, not when you were covered in blood, barely able to process everything that’s been done to you, everything that you’ve done. Did you expect maybe...something from Jimin? He had given you so much already, what were you expecting? What did you want from the Fairy Prince? It frustrated you, having an idea too fantastical for even a world of fantasy. It could have been, you would have taken it, you could have loved him.

Angry you were not in a love story, but a nightmare, you attempted to hit him, but the room had still yet to settle, and Jimin barely had to do anything to stop your strike, easily pulling you into him closer. Before you knew it, the Fae Prince was pressed against you entirely, from body to lips. Your vertigo subsided, grounded by his kiss.

You pull away, partly stunned, and entirely captivated by his presence. “You kis-”

Jimin’s lips pressed against yours again, softly this time. You pull away again, eyes widening. “What, that wasn’t a request?” Jimin whispers against your lips.

He teases you, entices you, annoys you so much. “Don’t kiss me, don’t touch me!” You yell, pushing him away, and before you can strike again he is gone like he never was, and you can hear his familiar laughter in the West Wing with the others. You did not look for him, you were too upset, left to sulking in your room, and even if you had gone to find him, Jimin's glamour would have never allowed you near the other faefolk that evening. You were not going to dance, or kiss, anyone but him.

---

You felt more like a teacher, a live-in tutor, teaching the Fae Prince all the things you knew of human history and human living. He danced around you while you slumped into the cushions of his love seat, mopey, tired of answering his endless questions.

“Tell me more about this electrical web.”

“Why are you so fascinated by this?” you groan, “Want to know real human nature?! We go into wars we cannot win, we take innocent lives over land we then destroy, and we do it over and over and over again-”

“Your kind is very good at that. Alright, then tell me more about yourself.”

“Well- I- What did you want to know?”

“What brings you joy other than killing?”

“Killing does not bring me joy!” You sit up, outraged. It was ridiculous, what he said, it wasn't true!

“Then what does?” he asks, smile hidden behind his knuckles.

You think of yourself as a child, singing along to the radio, you had loved singing to your favorite songs, your father telling you to quiet yourself, complaining how off tune you were, you had only been a child and you never sang again. You still danced, every time you heard music, you hadn’t cared who was around, who was watching. You remembered the faint cheers of your mother, her laughter adding to the musical beat. Some time between now and then you stopped dancing, you couldn’t pin point it, when you grew up and only allowed your head to slightly bob to the beat instead, foot tapping anxiously instead of just dancing. When had it been, the first time your mother told you to stop instead of cheering you along?

You think of the museum you used to visit as a child, the excitement you felt when you noticed the brightly woven baskets on display, relics of the past that looked so beautiful, you wanted to learn how to create those baskets too, if only they let you. The designs were so intricate, the colors so bright, the patterns reminded you of the dagger fastened to your dress, reminded you of it's handle, and blood, and death.

You shut your eyes and let go of the breath you've been holding. “Swimming. When I was a child my mother couldn’t get me out of the water. I still love swimming, it’s fun, I could still spend all day in the water, I think.”

“I see...”

You sigh, “You know what brings me joy?” Before your wedding, your friends visited you. They kissed your cheek, wiped your tears away and fixed your makeup. They made fun of your mother-in-law. They told you, it will be okay, your fiancé is old, they reminded you to cook with animal fat, so he can die sooner. They held your shaking hands and hugged you tightly, and promised to visit you soon.

“Seeing my friends happy,” you smile. “Can I now ask you a question?” The Fae Prince waits. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/n...” He paces his quarters, and your hopeful expressions falls as grains of the sands of time slip through your fingers once again. “How about we go for a swim instead?”

You reach the water’s surface easily, inhaling air quickly. You wade in the spring, looking up to watch the slow waterfall. It was peaceful, it made you smile.

A wave of water hits you, Jimin catching your attention instead. You splash water in his direction, laughing as he swims closer to you.

“Where are we?” You spin, following him as he swims around you. He ducks underneath the water, splashing you again. Two hands cover your eyes as you feel the Fae Prince resurface behind you.

“Close to the Palace,” he says softly in your ear. The spring water is cool and Jimin’s touch is warm. You pull one hand from your eyes away, holding onto him.

“Where is your s-shirt?” He surprises you, his usual soft curled hair wet and slicked back, chest exposed to you.

“Why are you wearing your clothes!” he laughs. The silky fabric lifts around you like a blanket, your jewelry heavy against your skin. Why did you jump into the water with your clothes, you can’t remember why now. You begin to feel anxious, moving your limbs faster to keep afloat, your legs exposed as the ends of your dress floats on the water’s surface. You push the front of your dress down, covering your virtue, and sink into the water as your limbs stop swimming.

Jimin joins you underwater, and he somehow seems even more beautiful floating in the water, hair wafting effortlessly and framing his face. He reaches for you, pulling you back to the surface.

“Your modesty is cute.”

You scoff, holding onto his shoulders. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“And how should I treat you, y/n?” his arms move from your waist to just under your bum, pulling you closer to him. You tense up under his intense gaze, unable to look down at him.

“Look at you!” he teases, laughing, “Always holding back.”

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“How dare you! You attempt to silence your Prince!” He laughs even louder, moving slowly into deeper water. He narrows his sparkling eyes at you, “The other Fae would have eaten you by now.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t imagine I would taste very good.”

“Such bravery and yet you are too timid to give into your desires.”

“I desire you to shut up.”

“Y/n, I can hear your desires always,” he lets you down back into the water, holding you close to his body.

You bite your lip in attempt to uncloud the haze you felt so suddenly. “So you know how much I desire to know your name.”

Jimin stops laughing, biting his lip as well, closing his eyes in thought. “I do know.” He could feel how much you desired his name, desired him, how you thought of his lips, his jaw, his bare chest, your fixation on everything about him only enlarging his ego, and enlarging...other things.

You watched his mouth part, his head slowly tilt back as he sighed deep. “Please, your highness.”

Jimin’s lips curled up. “Prove it to me, your devotion...hold your breath.”

You went underwater again, held tight in Jimin’s embrace. His hand cradled the back of your head, watching you as you held in your instincts to move, to break free, determined more than ever to learn something of his kind instead. You gripped his biceps, fingers digging into his muscles, holding on, and just when you feel your self slipping, Jimin’s lips press against yours.

You felt a rush of air fill your lungs, the rush of adrenaline cascade over your body where water should have been. It was only Jimin's frenzied touch instead, cool air hitting your wet skin, your drenched clothes pulling you down as the weightlessness of water disappears. “Where are we?” you gasp.

Jimin’s lips move across your jaw and down your neck. “Your room, of course.” He pulls the wet fabric away from your shoulders, you shiver from the cold and his touch. His hand travels up your thigh and you freeze.

“Should I slow down? Is this too far?”

“I’ve had sex before,” you say, annoyed, trying to relax.

“But you’ve never gotten pleasure?” Jimin did not need to hear you answer, it was written as clear as the day across your anxious features. His had cupped your jaw. “Breathe out, y/n.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath, his thumb ran across your bottom lip as you exhaled.

He kissed your neck again, lying his body down onto yours. “Breathe in, y/n.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his, enjoying the way he kissed and tasted your skin. Your hand reached for his, interlacing your fingers together. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, holding your against bedsheets, his mouth traveling down your body, searching for more to taste.

You moaned for the first time at Jimin’s caresses, gripping his hand tighter. He takes his time to savour you, your breath rapidly escalating. You felt Jimin move between your legs, the warm wet muscle of his tongue licking all over you, fingers massaging your most intimate parts, slowly, moving from outside to inside. You no longer felt cold, you felt feverish instead, overwhelmed, overstimulated, ready to burst.

Jimin slowly built up the pleasure inside you, and then with skill and preciseness, unraveled the tension away. You panted, in a trance, pleasure coursing throughout your body.

Jimin looked at you, hungry and eager, a vision of seduction you’ve longed to experience. You traced his muscles, reaching for him, legs angling over his hips.

You kissed him fervently, riding high on ecstasy, whimpering for more, insatiable until you felt his hardness meet your core, sliding against your entrance.

You shuddered, stopping, looking into his eyes. He smirked, pleased you weren’t shying away from him no longer, enthralled with the way your desires took over. He held your head and devoured your lips, entering you with one swift rolling movement that took your breath away.

You moaned louder, rolling your hips to meet his, forgetting your goal, what you wanted, crying out for him, unable to speak his name.

---

Jimin was not only learning of your customs. You were, slowly, learning too. Growing and learning, realizing the shine of this world covered secrets. As a group of Faefolk left his quarters, you recognized one and he winked at you, bowing his head as he retreated.

You frowned, pursing your lips, looking inside at the mess.

Jimin rolled his neck, pulling a shimmering robe over his body. “Y/n, come,” he holds out his hand, calling you over to his bed.

“Aren’t you tired?” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Jimin rolls his eyes instead at your judgement.

“I’m never tired for you.” He tugs on your arm playfully. You fall next to him. He smells good, he smells of vanilla and wildflower and sex.

“I want to make a deal,” you roll your body over his, straddling his lap, pulling at his clothes. He sighs softly, canting his hips, pushing up against you. “I want to know your name...” He raises an eyebrow, “...wait...and listen...I want to know your name when we make love.”

He tilts his head, staring at you, smiling, intrigued. “Then you can take it away. Deal?”

“And what do I get out of this deal?”

You kiss his exposed chest, and then you kiss lower, and lower. “Me...screaming your name...as yours.” You look up at him, challenging him to deny you.

The Fae Prince widened his legs, pleased your infatuation had given him such a truly wonderful gift. He could hear his name leave your pretty lips and let you fall back into his spell. “Okay, y/n. Deal.”

He watched your lips part over his hardening length, sucking him into your mouth eagerly. You perched yourself back onto his lap, settling yourself onto his cock. So perfect, fitting around him tight and warm. You rolled your hips and moaned freely. “Y-Yes.”

He holds your hips, thrusting up into you, “Tell me, y/n, who is your prince?”

You heard a whisper materialize inside you, becoming louder and clearer the faster you bounced on his lap.

“Y-Yes-Jimin, yes!”

You woke up, kissing his chest lazily, already forgotten his name.

---

“What do you wish of me, your highness?” You murmur against Jimin, tired, sleepy, why were you so tired?

Jimin sighs, “It’s time.”

“Time? W-What’s time?”

“Your world corrupts the balance of nature. Humans will destroy every realm of earth with their greed, even mine.” Armed with the knowledge you’ve given him, the Fae Prince was ready to conquer the human realm, to play some more. Oh, how much fun his first visit had been!

You hum, agreeing.

“It’s time...to wage war. And you! You are my most beautiful weapon.”

But Jimin underestimated you. He saw your beauty, yes, but did not fully grasp the strength, the fearlessness, that to this day, you’ve never forgotten.

“Wake up, y/n.” A hand caresses your jaw, waking you from your slumber. “A debt needs to be paid.”

“Where are we?” Jimin holds you in his arms, placing your feet on the ground tenderly.

“You don’t recognize this?”

You follow his gaze towards the ground, where a neat ring of mushrooms lie growing in a perfect circle. You knew this place was important, the reason why sat on the tip of your tongue, so close to understanding the reason it soured your thoughts. You remembered it like a dream, like a nightmare.

He steps inside, offering his hand. “The price is this.”

Once you stepped inside the mushroom ring everything seemed to grow duller, heavier, grayer. You…hated it. You hated everything except the man beside you. That was until you stepped outside the mushroom circle, feet landing onto wet cold earth.

Then the glamour fully wore away and you were faced with the harsh dark reality of what happened to you. Everything rushed into your memory so clearly and vividly you fell forward, pulling away from the Fae Prince.

“Get up, we have things to do.”

“You! You kept me prisoner!”

Jimin laughs. “Did I? I did not chain you or force you to stay.”

“You did, you- Leave! Leave me alone!” You hug yourself, dig your nails into your arms, grounding yourself to this forgotten place.

“We are connected, y/n. It’s the price you paid. I cannot leave you as much as you cannot leave me.”

You pulled the jewelry off your arms, throwing his gifts at his feet. The Fae prince felt the offense within him. You felt something too, a risen memory.

“Stay away!” you scream.

“I can’t do that.”

You wanted to hate him, but you felt your heart break the more you resisted. It made you cry. He was right. You had made a deal and now you were tied to him whether you liked it or not. It made you scream.

Jimin pulled you up harshly, “Oh y/n, what’s happened? I thought we were in agreement.” Jimin didn’t understand why you suddenly resisted so vehemently, why his call didn’t pull you in as strongly as before.

“You…you t-tricked me, you used me!” You looked down at the crime scene at you feet. The blood was long gone, the bodies have since decomposed, been found, and taken away. For all the time you spent in his realm, the human world was moving at a far quicker pace, catapulting you into a future you no longer recognized. Everything about this place had changed, but you smelled the iron still, you could still feel the blood dripping down your body as if it only happened moments prior.

Jimin pulls your chin to face him instead. “I gave you a gift, a tool, I did not make you kill him. I did not make you do anything. It was your will, your decision.”

“All I wanted was freedom,” you cry bitterly. “But in the end I never had it, did I, your highness? I was your tool, I was your pet!”

Jimin’s fingers dug into your chin, “You wanted me, you ached for it, you loved it!”

The knife, you remembered, was still hidden beneath your clothes. You now pulled it out, pointing it at the Fae Prince.

He look at the knife, then lifts his head, looking at you. “You will use my own dagger against me? Do you think that’s wise, y/n?” His tone was dangerously low.

“It’s my dagger, is it not?” you question, “to do what I please?”

“You are not scared, y/n?” Jimin stalks towards you.

“I…I was never scared. Only lost.”

“Then let me help you find yourself again.” He breathes out, eyes glistening in the shade, a haunting sight, the rosey tint of deception was gone and you could see his true self.

“And what’s the price?” you mock.

“This time, no price from you. We’ll take it together.”

“Take what?”

“Everything.”

You let the dagger go, let it fall into the dirt, where you touched it first, decades ago.

The Fae Prince, his cool exterior broken, looked into your eyes, smile unhinging, unprepared for the words you were to speak next.

A man marked your body one last time, but by your own hands, by your own will, for power you took all by yourself. Jimin never noticed the small stains of blood soaked into your fabric, the mornings you kept to yourself, the jewelry hiding the trick you played.

As you pushed away your sleeve, revealing the scarred letters you had carved into you over so many many nights, you wondered if he really noticed you at all.

“And why should I share it with you, Jimin?”

---

You know, even though this story was not a story for me or about me (though in some small ways, about me), I found myself crying so much for her.

Next story up, Seokjin being a ghostie.

Spring Fling Masterlist

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin fanfiction #bts fantasy au #yandere bts #yandere jimin #bts fanfiction #bts au fanfic #bts one shot #jimin oneshot #fae bts #fae jimin

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lhazeeart · 2 months

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Yeah, it’s another au I was working on o-o

#bts #bts fanart #art #drawing #black and white #minimoni #jimin #namjoon #kim namjoon #park jimin #bts au #faeries #fae folk

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

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My Prisoner

Summary: You were trying to buy a new notebook for your writings, not expecting to get lost in a forest you didn’t recognize from your map. After passing the same tree multiple times, you stop to rest for the night, only to be captured and taken to a King’s castle for judgement. You weren’t expecting a Fae King to keep you as his...prisoner?

Paring: Fae King Hoseok x Human Writer Reader

Genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, middle ages au,

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: the mc not being a weak human, mc writes smut because why not, captured mc, talks of magic, king hoseok is possessive and protective, mc gets slapped, some poor rib dislocations, mc tries to stand up for her self, allusions to torture, mc kept as a prisoner, some slight insecurities from the mc, king hoseok is kind of deranged but its okay,

Masterlist // Navigation

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You are almost certain you are lost.

Like, if the slowly descending sun wasn’t an obvious indicator, you had passed the same tree at least three times. And you only know it was the same tree because it had a specific notch in the trunk that looked like a diamond. You didn’t know how much longer you could go before it got dark, and your horse was beginning to tire.

Deciding it was time to make camp for the night, you steer your horse off the path towards a larger willow tree, the base of the tree large enough for a shelter if the weather becomes unfavorable. Letting your horse look for food, you settle at the base, your gab in hand as you pull out your map and try to make out a different path you could take.

You were heading towards a village near the south, about a two-days ride from your own village. The market at this specific village was known to have good deals and a healthy amount of foreign goods that would migrate over. You were looking for a notebook, one that was sturdy enough for your writing.

You were a writer, one who created different romance type books for women. You had your own stall at your village’s market where you sold these books. They were advertised as recipe books and sewing books, but all the women in your village knew. You were still in a time where women independence and pleasure was taboo, and if the men in your village knew what you were doing, you would be sol—married off.

You had been a ward of the village after your parents died from a fire that happened when you were a child. You were taken in by the village’s scribe, who wrote down every birth, death and marriage as well as other historical events within your small community. This is where your love of writing blossomed and grew into what it is now: a passion.

You were getting ready to scrawl down a new path within your notebook when you heard your horse whine, somewhere past the line of trees to your right. You stood up, sword drawn when you were pushed down. Your head was in the dirt, a hand pressed to your skull as your hands were bind behind your back and your things confiscated.

“Hey! What is the meaning of this?” You ask the men, you counted three, as you were pulled up. By your knowledge, you hadn’t trespassed onto anyone’s property, nor did you manage to lose yourself in someone else’s kingdom; you had made sure you didn’t enter any territory that you weren’t familiar with.

“You are under arrest for trespassing on King Hoseok’s land without proper papers. We are taking you to the castle where you will be tried.” Your eyes widened in shock. You hadn’t even heard of this man nor his kingdom before. As far as you knew, you were passing through King Min’s territory. How in the world did you stray so far from the path marked on your map?

The two men on either side of you, holding onto your elbows, began to carry/drag you forward, passed the line of trees and deeper into the forest. It was as if you passed through one of the fairy tale books your mother used to tell you when you were a child, ones filled with scary dragons and mighty knights.

“Hold on a minute. I’ve never heard of a King Hoseok! I was passing through King Min’s territory only minutes before we stopped!” You tried to plead with the guards, their attire telling you they worked for the royal family, but their emblem made no sense. It was a sweet looking flower, a small smiley face in the middle.

The men ignored you, only tugging you further into the forest. You cursed under your breath, trying to release yourself from their grasp. You received a shove in the ribs instead, making you gasp at the pain now radiating from your abdomen.

“What was that for! I have done nothing wrong!” You yell at the man who elbowed you, your glare shooting daggers at the man.

“Just shut up and be quiet.” He only spared you a glance, making you stick your tongue out at him. As you turned your head it seemed like a veil was pulled over it. Suddenly you weren’t staring at a never-ending forest, you were looking at a large castle, two large towers almost blocking your view of the sky.

It made no sense, you were just staring at a forest of green, but now was what seemed like mere meters away from the entrance to the castle.

“How…?” You tried to question, but were silenced by a slap to your cheek, your head turning from the force. You could feel your cheek burn, the skin surely hot to the touch. Looking to the guard who told you to shut up before, you kicked him in the back of the knee, knocking him to the ground and making the other guard grab you by the stomach, pulling you into him with a knife to your neck.

“How dare you!” The guard was about to hit you again when someone cleared their throat behind your group. Everyone froze, the man clearing his throat again. You could see the anger on the guard’s face at being interrupted, his anger shown by his clenched fists as he moved them to his side before turning to face the newcomer.

“May I remind you that all trespassers are to go before the King before any punishment is dealt?” The newcomer speaks, an aura of authority surrounding him as he looks down on the guard who hit you. It has you biting back a smirk as you watch the guard being berated for his actions.

“No Sir.”

“Then why does she have a handprint on her cheek, and a dislocated rib?” Dislocated rib? Is that what that pain is? You weren’t entirely sure how the man knew about your rib, or that it was dislocated, but you didn’t argue.

“Never mind. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The newcomer moves towards you, pushing the guards out of the way before helping you to your feet, the previous guard having dropped you to the ground when he pulled back. Once back on your feet, he brings you to the doors of the castle, the two doormen didn’t hesitate to let you in, bowing slightly to the man who pulled you along.

“I am the Marshal of King Hoseok’s court. I am to take you before him so he can decide if you are to remain prisoner here, or if you are to be let go.” The man spoke in a hushed tone, raspy in his age as he moved. You only nodded, not wanting to push his buttons.

You had witnessed a Marshal before, and only before he beheaded a thief who tried to steal from him in front of the village you were visiting. You knew how much power the man held compared to you. You knew nothing of this kingdom or its people, so you knew your safest bet was to remain quiet.

You walked for a couple of minutes until you entered a grand room, glass ceilings and what seemed like walls made of trees. You couldn’t help but gasp at the beauty of the room, wondering how architecture like this was unseen and unheard of where you grew up.

“Marshal Kim! How nice to see you so soon again! What do you have there?” Your head turned to the front of the room, a man with sharp features sitting upon the throne. He wore a flower crown that seemed almost as elegant and regal as the man himself.

King Hoseok watched on as you stared at him, your own features catching him off guard. You were the most beautiful creature he has ever seen, and he was the King of the Forest. A Fae in his own right. He recognized instantly your status as a human and couldn’t help but wonder how a human made it into his territory. The only way a human could enter were if they were part supernatural themselves, or if they were a mate to someone within the forest.

Given his feelings upon seeing you, he figured the latter.

He narrowed his gaze on you, looking for any sign of discomfort or pain as he noticed your hands bound behind your back. He could see you favoring your right side, and almost growled at the handprint covering your left cheek. He could feel the vines growing behind him and took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself from killing someone. He didn’t want to scare you off before he even got the chance to have you.

His eyes latched onto his Marshal’s hand on your elbow, making his eyes flash green before he was sitting up straight in his seat. “Let go of her before you lose your hands, Marshal Kim.” You felt the quick removal of the Marshal’s grasp, his body moving a foot away from yours as he flinches at the King’s tone.

You were still looking forward, watching the King as he looked at you, his body standing up from his throne and walking in a slow pace towards you. You stayed frozen, not wanting to underestimate this King. You knew something was off, with everything, but you didn’t want to die from your own foolishness.

“Who touched you like this?” He was closer now, hand inching closer until he held your chin in his grip, tilting your head every which way as if he could sense whose handprint was left behind.

“Knight Ahn, Sir. He and two others found her just inside the borders before nightfall. Said she was trespassing.” Marshal Kim is the one who spoke up, as if you couldn’t talk on your own. Well, you couldn’t really with the way the King was gripping your chin and cheek.

You watched as King Hoseok’s eyes flashed green, a growl like sound rumbling from his chest as he turned his head to look towards his Marshal. You were surprised at the calm aura leaving the man, as you would have already started crying at the look coming from the King in front of you.

“You know where to put him. I would like a few words with my new… prisoner.” With a wave of his hand, the Marshal was leaving, going to bring the man who hit you only the King knows where. You were blindsided by the way the King was acting, not able to guess his next move.

When the doors to the large room closed, you fought yourself to cry right then and there. You knew what the price of trespassing was, and you would have rather not died in the place where you nothing about anything.

“Please, Your Highness, I had no clue I was trespassing on your territory. You see, your territory is not on the map I have, and I was merely trying to pass through to head south to the large market within Queen Hyolyn’s territory. I mean no harm.” You practically pleaded with the royal, trying to convince him to let you go.

The King only hummed at your words, his eyes looking you over, from top to bottom as his eyes still glowed their unnatural green. It reminded you of one of the fairytales you read as a child, with a monster whose eyes glowed red when they were hungry. You truly hoped that wasn’t the case here.

“My little human…I don’t think you realize the implications of your entry into my land. You see…” Hoseok walks in a circle around you, admiring you from every angle as he tries to explain your place here, with him. “The second you walked onto my land, you became mine.” He stopped as he stood in front of you, his finger moving forward to tilt your head up, your eyes now latching onto his own.

Seeing the confused look on your face, Hoseok moves to explain further.

“You see, my darling little human, this is the Forbidden Forest.” Your eyes grow wide at the mention of the forest you were always warned against entering. You didn’t know how you managed to stray so far from your marked path.

“Only those with supernatural blood in their veins, or mates of those within can enter through the barrier. I wonder which category you fall under, my dear.” You can feel the sweat beginning to fall from your brow as he moves closer, his lips now only centimeters away from your own.

“Seeing as you are now mine, I think it would be best of you were taken to my chambers.” He abruptly turned from you, moving back towards his throne as the doors opened again, this time two women moving forward and bowing before the King. “Take my darling human to my chambers. But,” He growled out the last word, turning to look the two women in the eyes as he did, “do not touch her. Only I can have that privilege.”

It was as if time stilled for you, your eyes caught on the King as the two women ushered you out of the room and up a couple flights of stairs. You were brought to a large door that was the only one in the long hallway. It opened into a huge room, one that had the King’s bed up a couple of stairs and on a platform about a foot above the rest of the room.

There were plants everywhere, and it reminded you of a cozy common room with different chairs and a couch surrounding a small table. A bay window stood opposite the door and overlooked the Forbidden Forest. It was absolutely beautiful and had you not wanting to leave.

Once the women left, you could hear the door being locked behind you.

You didn’t know what to do. You were only supposed to be gone for no less than a week, and now you were trapped here. You had no clue why the King wanted to keep you, despite his explanation. There was no way you were supernatural, apart of the stories you read as a child, nor were you a mate to anyone, especially the King. You were not worthy of the title or position.

The King was way to handsome to be paired with the likes of you, you thought, brushing your hand through your hair as your nerves got the best of you. You could feel your frustrations growing until you had tears building in your eyes. You were scared and worried about what this meant for you.

You sat down on the bed, expecting a soft mattress and blankets only to sit on something hard. You turn around, standing up a little only to see a couple of notebooks and a set of pens. The notebooks looked as though they cost a fortune, more gold coins than you had in your possession. Leather covers in different colors you were not familiar with. You were sure they were not here when you looked over the room before.

Picking up one of the notebooks, you looked over it, opening it up to see a small note inscribed onto the inside cover.

My darling Human,

I heard you were a writer.

How in the world did he know that? It’s not like you were able to speak more that trying to garner your freedom. So how did he know that you were going to the market in search of quality notebooks. Despite the means with which you were given the notebooks, you held them to your chest, not letting them go even as you fell asleep in the hours that passed since your capture.

It had to have been past midnight when the King eventually returned to his chambers only to find you laying on top of the covers, notebooks he had brought to you clutched tightly to your chest. Your face was calm, sleep capturing your silhouette perfectly in his eyes.

He couldn’t help but to thank his witches for bringing you to him, causing your horse to forge on the path he desired. He had done enough waiting for you to come on your own, and had to do something to have you by his side.

It looked like his prisoner would be his wife soon.

#bts #bts au #bts hoseok #jung hoseok #bts jhope #fae king hoseok #bts hobi x reader #bts hobi #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #possessive hoseok #bts fantasy au #jhope oneshot #my prisoner #purpleyoonn

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moccahobi · 3 months

Text

A Fae's Brew To Take You Away [Chapter 24]

Summery: Photography: Taehyung loves it. Specifically he loves film photography. He even spent an entire day hiking and taking photos in a meadow (there was a woman there at first but she left soon after). For Y/n though, Taehyung’s trip to the meadow was the start of something bad. Something real bad.

Pairings: Taehyung (BTS) x Reader, Yoongi (BTS) x Hoseok (BTS)

Rating: Teens and up

Chapter warnings: injury, character death

Series warnings (I update as I figure more stuff out): horror, injury, threats, character death, major angst, emotional distress, alcohol, verbal fight, anxiety

Word Count: 985 words

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fae AU!, College AU!

Tag list: @youarejesting, @i-am-moonchild, @oddinary4bts

Chapter 23 >> Masterlist << Next

This was a bad idea.

This was such a bad idea.

Why had he suggested to put an apple tag in Taehyung’s car?

Why was he humoring his two friends in this?

Eyes flitting between Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jungkook as they angrily talked, he was getting more and more worried. Plus, they hadn’t even made it to Taehyung and Nayeon-something Jungkook was very much trying to keep them away from. This was going on too long. The rain and wind was making it dangerous too… Yoongi wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Taehyung’s scream silenced everyone, its fear and pain cutting through the conversation like a knife. From his periferal, Yoongi saw Jungkook quickly looked over at Taehyung, the man seemingly collapsed on the ground. Yoongi and Jungkook seemed to have a similar idea as they started down the hill (very slowly and cautiously because of the mud) before they were stopped by another scream, much closer.

Hoseok.

Yoongi rushed over to where Hoseok was sitting on the ground, grabbing his shoulders and watching horrified as he started coughing up muddy water, cutting his scream. The water he was coughing up started to form a puddle on the ground, mixing with the dirt and leaves… and was there some red developing in the water?

Looking closer at the water Hoseok was coughing up, Yoongi saw blood. Hoseok’s face was losing more and more of its color as more and more blood started coloring his coughed up water. After a horrifying minute of Hoseok coughing up bloody, muddy water, his eyes growing more and more unfocused all the while, he finally passed out.

“Seok-ah! Seok-ah!” Yoongi was tapping his shoulder trying to get some sort of response, but there was nothing. Looking up at Namjoon and Jungkook, Yoongi spoke again, “W-We need to leave. He needs a hospital. Can you both help me carry him?”

Jungkook's gasp took Yoongi's attention temporarily elsewhere. Someone was doing stuff with Taehyung, whose leg looked fucked up, and a little behind them, by the swollen stream, Nayeon was walking out of the river. She was human sized and looked waterlogged and pale just like Hoseok.

Ripp Hoseok. In the middle of Jungkook talking and trying to deescalate the situation, Hoseok starts screaming in pain, falling to the ground and coughing up water (way too much water for it to be just from the rain). They all watch in horror as the blood in his face seems to become less and less but before he seems to pass out, they see a large Y/n, in some sort of flowy dress walk out from the swollen river. She’s limping and dripping water.

She looks to be in a similar state to Hoseok but there is something very different: she seems to be smoking.

Not only is she panting and each walk is making her look worse and worse, but the water on her skin and dress is literally evaporating, her hair shriveling up as if under flame. There is some muddy concoction in her hand, her eyes are red from what looks like crying but no tears are coming. Somehow, she manages to make it over to where everyone (other than Taehyung and the mysterious man) were, falling to the ground beside Hoseok.

“I am so so so so sorry.” She spoke, her voice rough and wispy as if she had barely any energy to talk, “I did this to you. You’ve been touched by my magic. I am trying to break the connection.”

She stopped, breathing hard as she reached over and touched Hoseok’s arm, her own arm shaking violently.

“Hold on. Please. Think of all your friends.”

Yoongi watched in shock as Hoseok seemed to regain some of his color, eyes unfocused on the world around him. He steps closer and sits next to Hoseok, hopeful that he’ll notice Yoongi here.

“I am here, Seok-ah. Hang on. Please. I… I can’t lose you.” His own voice was rough and mournful.

Nayeon looked at Yoongi briefly before putting her full body on Hoseok, mumbling something in a different language. The color returning to Hoseok’s face soon took over, overpopulating his face and making it look like a painful red. He was hot to the touch.

“N-Na-Nayeon-ssi. This. He isn’t getting better. Please. I don’t know if he will make it.”

She didn’t respond but Hoseok groaned and rolled into Yoongi’s lap. Even if Yoongi had the energy to try to pull her off and stop this, he now physically couldn’t.

Tears sprung up in his eyes as he watched Hoseok’s face continue to become red, his body like a heater on Yoongi’s.

“Seok-ah. Please. Hold on. I. Please. I… I love you. I can’t lose you.” He was crying, the tears landing on Hoseok’s arm before seemingly disappearing. Hoseok clung closer to Yoongi as he spoke, a soft smile growing on his face. Despite this, he didn’t respond to what Yoongi was saying and Yoongi only felt more spurred on to continue. “If you make it through this, I will give you all the M&Ms in the world. You’ll be so rich off of M&Ms you won’t be able to eat them all. I’ll actually confess and if you don’t like me, I will move on. Please. Please. Please. Seok-ah. Hol-”

“I am sorry I’ve been so shitty to you these few days. Gi, I-”

Hoseok stopped moving. Nayeon stopped moving. The color left both of them.

Jungkook and Namjoon were also crying. Slowly and carefully, Jungkook removed Nayeon from over Hoseok, laying both of them down on the ground. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a loud and vibrant flash of light.

Fire.

Nayeon was burning up, the flames violently licking at her body and seemingly ignorant of anything else. Like flashpaper, she burnt up and left behind nothing on the ground.

#wkcnet #bts fanfic #bts supernatural au #bts angst #bts fan fic #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung x reader #v x reader #taehyung supernatural au #bts fairy au #bts fae au

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army-recs · 2 years

Note

fae bts recommendations?

bts fae fic recs 🌿

hoseok:

faeding borders ⏤ by @helenazbmrskai ; angst ; fae au ; soulmate au ; enemies to lovers au

taehyung:

fae! taehyung promised to marry you when you were kids ⏤ by @your-daily-biaswrecking ; fluff ; fae au ; childhood freinds au

how to collect stardust ⏤ by @bumblebeezandhoney ; fluff ; fae au ; strangers to lovers au ; pandemic / lockdown au

golden crowns, silver lockets ⏤ by @bangtan-dreamland ; fluff ; angst ; fae / genie au ; enemies to lovers au ; reincarnation au

a fair(y) crime ⏤ by @jimlingss ; fluff ; angst ; crack ; fairy godmother au ; technically not a fae au, but I thought it fit the magical vibe

jungkook:

turtledove ⏤ by @psycho-slytherin ; fluff ; fae au

butterfly prince ⏤ by @bangtanloverboys ; suspense ; fae au ; supernatural au

frozen heart’s flame ⏤ by @yoongi-sugaglider ; fluff ; fae au ; soulmate au

#bts fic rec #bts fae #bts fairy #bts fantasy au #bts fantasy rec #bts fanfic recs #bts fic recs #bts recs

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sweetestofchaos · 2 years

Photo

❀Lavender Field❀

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋!𝖳𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗑 𝖥𝖺𝖾!Black 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖥𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒, Fluff, 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖭𝗈𝗇-𝖨𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖪𝗂𝗆 𝖳𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗀𝖾. 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖱𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽, 𝖬𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗌/𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝖼...𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖱𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖢𝖶𝖢: 9.7K

𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎

#soc taehyung #bts #kim taehyung #kpop ambw #bts fantasy au #fae!reader #bts angst #poc moodboard #bts moodboard #lavender field ml #lavender field

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rec-review8890 · 2 years

Text

JM | Magic!au RECs

(💦) ~ Smut , (🐑) ~ Fluff , (👊) ~ Angst ,

(📝) ~ Series , (🗒) ~ One-Shot/Dribble ,

(💜) ~ Personal Favorite

Request Guidelines | Fic Rec ML

NONE of these works are mine. Give all your love to the authors and their works. The links will either bring you to the Tumblr page or a Ao3 page of the work.

Magic!au... Basically anything with magical elements. Fea, Wizard/witches, Curses, etc,. Does not involve all supernatural elements, such as vampires or werewolf's. They can be involved in the background, but for these story recs they are not.

Title: Blessing and a Curse 💦👊🗒

Author: @btsmosphere

Summary: Also college!au. 12.7 words.... Curse!au????

↳ “You are the unlukiest person you know. Park Jimin seems to be the exception to the rule. But when strange dreams start haunting you, Jimin begins to piece together the events that have followed you your whole life... “

Title: Realm of Enchantment 💦👊📝

Author: @jkeuphoriadreamland

Summary: 7 parts, completed. Fea!Jimin.

↳ “A beautiful creature, the likes of which you have never seen before, falls into your pool in the middle of the night. You race to help it, quickly discovering that it can tell you nothing about who or what it is. In time you discover this creature is more than meets-the-eye, its charms making you fall deeper and deeper. “

Title: Erised 💦🐑👊🗒

Author: @jamaisjoons

Summary: Also HarryPotter!au. Slytherin!jimin x hufflepuff!reader.

↳ “The last thing jimin had anticipated when he’d followed you into the room of requirement was to find you, the demure little head-girl, in front of the mirror of erised. moaning his name.”

Title: The Dark Prince Epilogue 💦👊📝💜

Author: @jkeuphoriadreamland

Summary: Although this is a part of a series, only the epilogue (link above) is Jimin x reader. The other 8 parts are JK x Reader. Also curse!au, and Witch!jimin x queen!reader.

↳ “Approached by a witch with the promise to free your husband’s family name from a curse, you question whether his intentions are good, but soon find there is a heavy price to pay.“

Title: The Iron Ring 💦👊📝

Author: @haliiimede

Summary: Series on Hiatus until Sept, 22. Fae!prince!jimin x human!reader. Also royal!au.

↳ “After finding a mysterious ring while cleaning out your late grandmother’s attic, you receive the unlikeliest of visitors: a fae prince who claims you have something that belongs to him. Discovering the fairytales your grandmother told you are true is the least of your problems when you’re taken to a world dangerous and unfamiliar.“

#magic!au #jimin #jm #jimin bts #jm bts #jimin x reader #magic!jimin x reader #fae!jimin #wizard!jimin #curse!au #jm x reader #magic!jm x reader #wizard!jimin x reader #witch!jimin x reader #fae!jimin x reader #curse jimin x reader #bts #fic recs #bts fics

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writersrealmbts · 1 year

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We Could Be: (Fixed) 3 and

We Could Be: (Thirsty) 4

Description: In a world of magic, mortals, and immortals; six souls are brought together to navigate the world. Namjoon had become immortal by accident. Hoseok was born into immortality. Jimin was pursuing immortality. Yoongi had immortality thrust upon him. Taehyung isn't sure how or when he became immortal. Jungkook showed no interest whatsoever in immortality. It's Seokjin's job to help them all learn to live, immortal or not. His job to keep them safe and teach them how to live life while losing people they loved to mortality. It was their desire to teach him how much they loved him. It was their desire to show him just what "We Could Be". Now if only the government would stop trying to mess with them.

Posting Date: 1/26/2023

Wordcount: (Fixed) 1,489; (Thirsty) 2,832

Tags: Magic Au, Ot7 bts, werewolves, werecats, vampires, nymphs, magic users, etc.

AN: My resilient babies, Jiminie and Yoongi. Two chapters! Enjoy!

Previous. Next.

Jimin wished his family, his blood family, supported him like it was obvious the other’s supported them.

But he would have to make do with the family that Seokjin had found for him, that Seokjin had helped him meet and like and love.

Meeting Seokjin’s family had also helped.

His parents were kind and welcomed the others into their home warmly, obviously still caring for their son despite however long they had been around.

Jimin had to work hard to prove that Seokjin’s time was worth the effort and money that he put into Jimin—not that Jimin thought that Seokjin thought that any of it wasn’t worth it, he knew his hyung just wanted Jimin to be happy.

Continue reading on Ao3...

Previous. Next.

Ot7 Stories Masterpost

Tagging: @park-jimin-isnt-real ,

#bts ot7#jung hoseok#wecouldbe story#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jeon jungkook#park jimin#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#magic au#nymph au#fae au#vampire au#werewolf au#bts x bts

#bts ot7 #park jimin #kim seokjin #wecouldbe story #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #magic au #nymph au #witch au #fae au #vampire au #werewolf au #bts x bts #poly bts

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jemshopes · 1 year

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I’ve Found You, Dearest [taegi]

you ever think about fae yoongi, who, before he was even born, had been promised in marriage to the tyrant king of the fae realm? to protect him from his fate, he's hidden in the human world, given to a family who were unable to have children of their own. and so he grows up, ignorant of his heritage, of any magic, for that matter. he's beautiful, people always remark on it in wonder. he doesn't look like his parents, they say. how on earth did they managed to produce such a handsome boy when they're both so homely?

but he grows up well. happy. he's magnetic. people can't help but be drawn to him, thus he's never short of friends. and the affinity he has with music is nothing short of enchanting. reality stops when he plays, when he sings. and when he dances... oh, how he dances. there's no one else in the room when he dances. surrounded by people that might as well not exist, he sways on the dance floor beneath the lights that paint his skin a hundred different hues. no human can ever find words to describe his grace, his poise, the ease he's at within his own skin.

and yet... while yoongi is happy, he knows something is missing. he can feel the disconnect between himself and everyone else. it's not that he realises he's different. far from it, in fact. he believes he's entirely ordinary. but he feels something is missing all the same. even when he's happy, even when he falls in love, when he laughs with his friends.

at first, when he realises his preference for both genders, he thinks that might have been what was missing. but the feeling stays. then, when he first falls in love, he thinks that might have been what was missing. but the feeling doesn't go away. the only time he forgets it is when he pours himself into his music, when he dances in clubs, when he performs here and there at bars.

his friends complain when he suggests they do karaoke. you just want to show off. you'll upstage us all. but they still go with him whenever he asks. and that is the only time he's truly felt complete connection with them--with anyone--when they're singing together, dancing.

or, at least, he thought it was complete until the night he meets taehyung, their eyes locking from across the crowded dance floor. at first, they only watch each other, yoongi still half in his own world, taehyung leaning against the bar.

he doesn't realise he's moving toward taehyung until he's right in front of him, breathless and wide-eyed. taehyung is different. he can feel it and it's not just because of the alcohol buzzing in his veins. it's not his imagination. taehyung is different and he can't explain it. when taehyung moves, when taehyung smiles, when taehyung talks, when they stumble into yoongi's apartment later that night, tongue and teeth and roaming hands, it's different and he doesn't know why. when taehyung lowers him onto the bed, when their clothes come off, he touches yoongi so carefully. not in the shy way other people touch him, in awe of him for reasons he still can't grasp. not in the clumsy, inept way of the inexperienced.

he isn't sure he's ever had sex and felt so completely like someone understood him. there's always something, too gentle, too hard, an unwelcome bite, too much tongue, not enough, doing everything right and yet still missing some spot even yoongi can't explain how to find.

it's not that the sex wasn't good or great or amazing. it's just... not this. not taehyung. and he realises, in the moment his back arches and he swears he sees shimmering gold in the air around them, that the disconnect he's felt for so many years has vanished.

it's not just the sex. it's taehyung's laugh, the way they talked effortlessly, the way he smelled, the love they shared for music. it's everything. it's complete connection. and he's never felt so at home.

the next day he wakes up to find his apartment empty, the only trace of taehyung the lingering smell of him on yoongi's skin and a note penned in scrawling gold on the inside of his wrist.

i found you, dearest. now find me.

***

Although yoongi doesn’t know it, the tyrant king has finally found him.

#taehyung #yoongi #bts fanfic #taegi #bts v #bts suga #bts aus #fae folk #taegi au

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colormepurplex2 · 11 months

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Flowers of Fate | Cedar & Clove

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft.xUnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 24,720 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, blood, violence, torture/being held captive, minor character deaths, first-time vaginal sex, not-so-first-time vaginal sex, nipple play, marking/biting, mfmm scene, kissing, guys kissing, blow job, cum swallowing, creampies, things get emotional

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

Everything hurts.

It’s a level of pain you’re only vaguely aware exists. There’s been nothing like it before in your life. Searing heat and biting cold, a combined mix of warring sensations. Even the light brush of your hands and the push of fabric against your skin has you screaming in pain.

“An iron blade laced with foxglove,” Joon gasps, jerking back from examining the wound in your side. Your shirt is shoved up under your breasts, leaving your side exposed. “Vile, utterly despicable heathens! She is just Fey enough for it to be on the edge of killing her.”

After you managed to get out that Yoongi had been taken, Mini and Joon sprang into action, getting you and JK inside. Whatever was on the dining table is now on the floor, cleared off with a sweep of Joon’s arm. You can feel JK lying beside you, the table jerking sporadically under you from his movements.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine! Stop that!” JK snarls, jerking so hard the table shudders an inch to the side.

“Asshole,” Mini grunts. “Yoongi would skin me alive if you die. I was just making sure the wounds were healing.”

The table trembles under you again as JK jerks upright and quickly turns so he can look at you. “I’m not the one you should be worried about!”

“Right. Can you help her? What can I do?” Mini asks, ignoring JK and directing his question to Joon.

Joon moves around the table, drifting in and out of your line of sight. “You have a minor ability in healing. Can you try to stitch the inner tissues? We must stop the bleeding before I can administer anything to combat the foxglove. Otherwise, it will just leech right back out of her body.”

Mini makes a distressed noise. “A very minor ability. But, the sun is up now, so I may be able to do that…it will not be pretty, though.”

“Just do it,” Joon commands, his voice drifting further away. “The wound still has traces of the poison, so be mindful of how long you are touching.”

Your eyes flutter as you try to focus on JK looming over you. “Hey there, Beautiful. I know it hurts, but we’ll need you to try not to scream so loud, okay? I’m going to help Mini here by trying to keep you quiet. Just in case those assholes come back through the area. Is that okay?”

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, slipping into your hair. You’re unsure if you can form words to answer him even if you want to, so you just drop your chin and try to nod, your lips quivering with a whimper. JK brushes tears from your cheeks and smoothes a hand over your blood-matted hair. He maneuvers himself so he’s on his knees beside you.

Mini takes a deep breath before bracing his hip against the table's edge. “You are going to feel my magick, and your instinct will be to fight it…please do not. I need to use it to help.” You try to give him a nod, too, but the pain makes your chin jerk up instead of down, a pitiful mewl coming up your throat.

Joon’s voice grows louder as he returns to the table, “Any day now, Jimin!”

Jimin gently presses one of his hands against your belly. “Do not rush me.” Jimin lays his other hand on your right ribs, just above the stab wound, which is still steadily oozing blood. You make a miserable noise as his hand moves slowly down, and the tips of his fingers brush over it, eliciting a flare of burning pain. “I am sorry,” he whispers before pushing the blunt end of his index finger into your gaping flesh.

It’s agony, a nightmare that has come to life. Your eyes flash wide, and you gag, choking on a guttural scream which JK muffles with a hand over your mouth. He presses his other hand against your shoulder, trying to keep you from thrashing too much as Jimin probes further into the wound.

Even with JK’s hand pressed firmly over your mouth, your screams must still cause him to worry as he speaks out. “You’re hurting her,” he grumbles, cutting eyes like daggers at Jimin. “Can’t you be more careful?”

Jimin gives JK a withering look, slightly baring his teeth. “This is not light work, but I am trying to be as delicate as possible. I need to be closer to the end of the wound if I hope to knit the tissues properly. Now, if you would be so kind, shut the fuck up and hold her still.”

The next several minutes are a bit fuzzy, if only because all coherent thoughts cease to exist in a body-wide short circuit. Your heart must’ve stopped at some point because the next thing you’re aware of is JK straddling your hips with his hands planted firmly against your sternum, forcing compressions against your already aching body. You shudder and jerk under him, eyes blinking rapidly, tongue thick against the roof of your mouth.

“Oh, Seven Hells, you’re okay! You’re alive!” He scrambles off you, making the dining table rock alarmingly as he drops back down on the surface beside you. “Namjoon! She’s back—hurry with that poultice before she goes dark again!”

Namjoon’s warm, brown eyes fill your vision. “Hey there, Beautiful. You gave us quite the scare,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I have something I need you to drink and something else I will press over the wound in your side. They will work together to counter the effects of the foxglove and give your body a chance to heal, okay?”

You can only make a soft noise, hoping it suffices as a response of acquiescence. “I’ll help,” JK says, hopping off the table and coming around the other side. He uses gentle pressure and careful movements to lift you so you’re leaning back on him in a reclined position. “Don’t need you choking on anything.”

The concoction that Namjoon pours into your mouth, with JK’s help, tastes like ripe cherries and honey. You cough a little, trying to work the thick substance down your dry throat. “Water,” you gasp, holding back a gag that would surely bring the mixture back up.

Namjoon steps away, returning quickly with a cup of water JK helps you to drink. Your shirt is still tucked under your breasts, giving Namjoon easy access to dress the wound with an earthy-smelling paste. “Mini was able to knit the inner flesh back together fairly nicely, if I do say so myself. The scar should be minimal, but we must ensure that your system is free of foxglove before we go planting new seeds. It is a good thing you are still so new to the bond. If this were anyone else, I do not know that we could have helped.” He gives a cursory glance in JK’s direction, his eyes lingering on the black stain of blood crusting the shoulder of his shirt. “You should let me place some of this on your shoulder, too.”

JK wrinkles his nose. “Nah, I’m good. It was just a scrape. Piss poor shot on their part. Lucky for me. I’m healing just fine.”

“Stubborn as always,” Namjoon murmurs, offering you a strained smile as he begins smearing the thick paste on your side. He wraps your middle with a stretch of linen to keep the medicine in place. “Let us get her into bed to rest, JK. Then you can share with us what exactly happened so we can decide what to do next.”

The pain in your side subsides substantially, reduced to a soft, throbbing ache. “Where is Mini?” you mumble, realizing he’s nowhere to be seen as JK slides his arms around you to carry you to the bedroom.

The shoulder under your arm kicks up slightly in indifference. “Outside, I think. Joon will get him, don’t worry about that asshole. How are you feeling now?”

You wince as he takes your weight off the table, your side pinching with the movement. “Better, I think. What was that, exactly?” You gesture vaguely with your other hand toward your exposed middle.

“Iron dagger infused with foxglove essence. Nasty business, meant for killing. If you hadn’t stepped in front of me…” JK trails off, clearly uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he finally whispers. “You saved my life. I probably don’t deserve it, considering I let them take him.”

Everything is still a bit blurry. It all happened so fast. “You didn’t let them do anything. We’ll get him back,” you swear to JK as he settles you on the bed, tucking you under the sheets and propping the pillows behind you. “I can—I can feel him. But, there’s something there, something in the way.” You press trembling fingers over your heart. “It’s like a thick fog is separating us.”

“But he’s okay, right? I shouldn’t have listened to him.” The desperation in JK’s voice has your eyes watering, your nose burning as you try not to choke on the palpable emotional dread in the air.

You want to tell him yes, but you can’t bring yourself to lie or instill a sense of false hope. “I-I don’t know if he’s okay. Alive, yes, but…” you trail off, swallowing down the bitter taste of uncertainty.

JK grunts, dropping his eyes from yours and picking at the skin around his fingernails. “Well, at least there’s that. It’s got to be enough for now.”

Jimin clears his throat from the doorway, drawing your and JK’s attention. “Feeling well enough to talk?”

Throwing a tired hand up, JK gestures for Jimin and Namjoon to enter the room. Namjoon perches on the edge of the bed with a bowl of water and a cloth in one hand, and Jimin chooses to stand at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are guarded, flicking around the room like he’s avoiding looking at you.

“Take your time, both of you. You might feel well enough to talk, but your energies could wane quickly as your adrenaline tapers off.” Namjoon gestures with his free hand at the bowl of water. “I will clean you up the best I can while you two tell us what happened.”

JK looks at you, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “I can start,” you assure him, reaching out and gripping one of his hands. His fingers thread through yours, anchoring you in the present as you recall what you can of what happened. “We had just crossed the boundary into the Unseelie territory. They came out of nowhere, had to have been hundreds of them, all armed to the teeth. Like something out of a horror fantasy movie, bristling arrows and long pikes.” You shake away the mental image of all that glinting iron and steel. “Yoongi was ahead of us by a few paces. The moment he realized what was happening, he…he—“

“He told me to take her and run,” JK picks up for you as Namjoon begins to clean the dried blood from your face and, as best as he can, from your hair. “That swamp bitch came swooping in on a fucking wyvern. The moon was blotted out in the sky as it descended on us. Yoongi knew if we were all caught, it would be the end of everything. He tried to harness his magick, but I watched as it sparked and jetted from him like a maelstrom of unchecked power. We should have listened!” he snarls, gripping your hand tighter. “We should have listened to you. I’m so sorry we didn’t.” His eyes are rounded with regret and pain as he looks up at you before it morphs back into anger. “I’ll never forgive myself. I have to leave. Now! I’m sure I can make it to the castle undetected. I can be in and—“

You shake your head, interrupting Namjoon’s cleaning. “No. No, no, no. Think rationally here! There was no way to know things would go so badly, not like that. It is no one's fault. And you’ll just make matters worse by going off hot-headed and getting yourself taken, too!”

“So, you just let them have him?” The question is eerily quiet but no less acidic. Jimin’s chest is rising and falling with a barely restrained rage. “How could you not want to fight for him!?”

“What? No, of course not! It’s not like we wanted—”

Letting go of your hand, JK jumps up off the bed and rounds the corner, coming chest to chest with Jimin. The motion is so abrupt it cuts off your response. “Are you not listening? Have you not heard a single thing we’ve just said!? She's right, despite how much I want to go after him now! Put aside your hatred for one fucking second and think with your head instead of your heart! We know that Chaddick won’t kill him, not yet. But if he got his hands on me, or Seven Hells forbid, got his hands on her,” he throws a hand out toward you on the bed, “it would have been near-instant death, tortured in front of Yoongi surely. Which, in turn, could kill him for all we know! You’re not stupid, Mini. You know the power of a mated bond! We have to be careful, or we could lose him forever.”

Jimin narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything in response. He stares at JK before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. JK moves to follow, but you call him back. “It’s not worth it right now, JK. Let him be.”

“So, what do we do now?” Namjoon asks into the silence. He sets aside the bowl and cloth, having done as much as possible without putting you in the bath.

JK glares at the door and then turns to face you and Namjoon. “I don’t think we should treat this as a rescue mission. We should approach it like it’s the same mission as before. We continue to target Chaddick. If we can get into the castle and take him out, or at least take out Borgia, then we increase our odds of rescuing Yoongi. But first, we need information. We need to know what’s going on in that castle. Do you think the bond could help us?” He looks at you, a hopeful expression on his face.

“I wish I knew more about how to use it. Do either of you know?”

“I have a few books tucked away that might be able to help. I acquired them over the years in hopes they could serve Yoongi once he bonded. One can never be too prepared, after all. Perhaps next time, I will insist he read a book or two before going off on an unknown adventure,” Namjoon declares, clapping his hands lightly before excusing himself from the room to pull out the books.

“Are you okay?” you hesitate to ask JK, unsure of his current temper.

The concern in your voice deflates him a bit, taking the bite out of his voice. “I’m a failure for letting this happen. I should have scouted ahead, been the one in front, something…fuck.”

“We can talk about that until we’re blue in the face. What I mean is, are you actually okay? You wouldn’t let Joon put anything on your shoulder. I know you were injured. I could feel how you limped as you helped carry me back to the clearing.” You aim for gentle yet firm, needing to know he’s wholly okay but not wanting to push him.

He blows out his cheeks, chuckling softly. “The glory of being Fey,” he says before grabbing the bottom of his heavily soiled shirt, pulling it over his head, and dropping it to the floor.

“Oh,” is all you can manage as your eyes hastily sweep the expanse of his chest and shoulders before dropping to your lap.

You can see JK standing in your periphery, looking over his body in the firelight. “These will be no more than slightly puckered scars by the end of the day. The shoulder is a bit more sensitive, but thankfully it’s not my fighting arm, so it can afford to be a bit tender for a few more days.”

“Fighting arm? You think you’ll need to fight soon?” You glance up at him, watching as he scoops the shirt back up, studies a few of the stains, and unceremoniously tosses it into the fireplace, where it catches instantly and blazes brightly.

His good arm pushes up in a shrug. “Possibly. It depends on what Joon has in those books. I might have to try to sneak in if we can’t find any alternatives. I won’t let him suffer in there for longer than I have to.” He nods toward the door. “I’m going to go clean up. Do you need anything before I go?”

You shake your head, and he disappears out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It doesn’t take long before your thoughts have circled back through the conversations, and you’re tugging the blankets to the side. You stare at the white linen wrapped around your middle. Your side still smarts, pinching with pain if you move too much. Namjoon didn’t tell you how long you’d have to rest or wait until you could remove the wrap. You freeze, fingers poised over your middle as you realize what thought just crossed your mind.

Namjoon.

You know his name—his real name. JK said it earlier in a panic. You focus hard on all the feelings in your chest and the knots you now associate with being tethered to a fae in this realm. There isn’t a new one, nothing that feels like it’s directly attached to Namjoon or that you have some sort of power over him. Thinking back over the snatches of conversation again, you realize there’s something else you know…

Tossing back the rest of the sheets, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and take a deep breath before pushing up to stand. As your side protests, you blow out a slow, shaky breath to keep yourself from sitting back down and crawling under the blankets. After standing a few moments, letting the lightheadedness and spots dotting your vision disappear, you creep slowly across the room.

You peek through the crack JK left and scan the living space. Namjoon has his back to you, hunched over in front of the fire with a book in his hands, muttering to himself. You slip out of the bedroom. Thankful someone had the forethought to remove your boots sometime earlier, so you’re quiet as you pad across to the door.

If Namjoon hears you opening and closing the front door, he doesn’t voice it. The sun is high overhead, bathing the clearing in warm light. “I was hoping you were still here,” you express, approaching the figure sitting on the lip of the porch, absently peeling a basket of potatoes with a small paring knife.

“Joon would box my ears if I left without so much as a goodbye,” comes the weary reply. You ease down beside him, holding a hand to your side and trying not to gasp with every stitch. “You really should be resting right now.”

“I wanted to say thank you.”

Guarded turquoise eyes slide your way. “Well, you have said it. Though, there is no need to thank me. Seven Suns know I do not deserve your gratitude.”

“You helped save my life. To me, that deserves probably the most gratitude anyone can deserve.” It’s hard to tell if he’s being self-critical or just obtuse.

He makes an unintelligible noise of frustration, hunching his shoulders and violently freeing a potato of a few inches of skin. “I nearly killed you,” he bites, mangling the rest of the vegetable with a few jerking flicks of the knife.

“What? No, that’s—“

“Do not presume to know more about magick than I do!” he interrupts, rounding on you with wide eyes and a firm frown. “It is my pitiful ability in healing that had your heart stopping. If it were not for JK being familiar with restarting a human heart, you very well would have remained that way. Dead. By my hands. Yoongi would never forgive me.”

“Jimin,” you whisper, wanting to comfort him but unsure how to proceed. You’re so caught up in your own emotional process that his real name spills from your lips before you can wrangle it back down your throat.

The new potato in his hand tumbles into the basket, half-peeled. The paring knife follows, thumping hollowly against the mound of raw vegetables. “‘What did you call me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.” You clamp a hand over your mouth, wishing you could take it back. This is not how you wanted to have this conversation. When you first came outside, it was your intention to be honest and reveal what you overheard, but the conversation took a different route. One that had you tucking that knowledge away for another time. “Jimin.”

He shivers in response, a full body tremor with his eyes closing, fists clenching, and his lips curling back to expose his teeth. “How? Who told you?”

“Well, no one, technically. Namjoon said it in a moment of panic,” he freezes at the mention of Namjoon’s real name, “and JK said Namjoon’s name in much the same way. But…don’t worry. It’s different somehow. I’m not sure why it’s different, but it is.”

Jimin’s eyes spring open, locking onto you with thinly-veiled suspicion. “Different?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Yoongi. I don’t feel like I have any power over you by knowing your full name. Is it because you didn’t tell me yourself? Is that part of it?”

His mouth works like he’s trying to form words, but nothing comes out. You watch as he wilts slowly, shoulder sagging and hunching forward. “I do not know. It could be that. Though that has never been the case before, to my knowledge, it could be something else…such as your bond to Yoongi and the fact that you are now slowly becoming Fey yourself.”

“It wasn’t my intention to alarm you like that. I just wanted you to know that I know and…that I don’t have any sort of power over you with it. Just being transparent, trying to earn some of your trust. This isn’t how I envisioned the conversation going, though.”

There is a look in Jimin’s eyes that you’re not sure you understand. “If you did have power over me…would you use it?”

You want to immediately say no, that you wouldn’t dare exert control over him like that, but you consider for a moment and shrug, wanting to try and lighten the mood considerably. “Maybe.” He balks at you, but you shake your head with a gentle smile. “But only so I could make you see reason right now. I know you’re upset, and it might be easy to blame yourself for what happened to me or to blame me and JK for what happened to Yoongi, but the person you should be directing your anger at is the one that ambushed us and took him. They are responsible for what happened to me and Yoongi’s current absence. Focus your anger in the right place. Help us find a way to save him instead of wasting energy being pissed at yourself and us.”

The abrupt laugh that Jimin lets out startles you, making you laugh nervously along with him. “Seven Suns,” he huffs with a sigh. “I have been a nightmare, have I not? Please know I am not so much angry with you or JK. It is really the whole situation. However, I am obscenely upset with myself. If I had only listened to you instead of seeing you as nothing more than an enemy…it would have been different.”

“You’ve not exactly been sunshine and rainbows, that’s for sure. But it’s with reason, I believe. Or at least, I think I understand.” You pause, considering what words to use to express your thoughts adequately. “I can’t even begin to pretend to understand what you and Yoongi have. He is still a stranger to me when you break it down to a base level. Sure, a stranger I’m pretty much married to, but still a stranger. We haven’t had sixty years to get to know each other and build that bond. But I can feel the way he loves you. And even if I didn’t have a front-row seat to his emotions, I’d still be able to see how much he loves you by how he looks at you alone.”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Now that I can see beyond my hatred, you really are not so bad. A little wordy, but I do not mind that so much. You can make up for Yoongi’s broody silences.”

That gives you a warm feeling, hearing Jimin include you as part of Yoongi in that sense, that you could contribute something to their relationship in a way, and it makes you smile. “So, we’re good?” you ask, hopeful.

Jimin nods. “Yes. I would say that we are, indeed, good.” He gives you a slight smile that you know will stick with you for a long time. It’s intimate in its own way, private, genuine, and warm.

“Now, is there anything you can think of that might help? How do we discover what’s happening in the Unseelie Court without going there ourselves? I feel blind. I know nothing about this world…the only thing that makes sense is,” you tap your chest, pressing your fingers over your heart, “this.”

Jimin eyes your fingers, his brow pinching. “Would it—is it okay if—” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “what I mean to say is, is it okay if I try to feel for him…through you?”

“Is that possible?” You scoot closer to Jimin until your thigh is pressed against his. “I don’t mind if you try.”

“I, uh, I do not know if it is possible. But, I think I would still like to try, yes.” He clears his throat, sitting up straighter and exhaling slowly. Jimin lifts his right hand, hovering it over yours, where it still rests over your heart. You slide your hand down, letting it drop into your lap.

The gentle press of his fingers is warm, even through the linen of your shirt. “You can press harder,” you say when he continues with the same hesitant contact.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach when his fingers brush the exposed skin through the neckline of your shirt as he presses his entire palm against your chest. “I feel something. There is a power here. But, I can not discern it as connected to Yoongi.”

He pulls his hand away quickly, shaking his head in disappointment. “Sorry, I wish that would have worked,” you share honestly.

Jimin waves a dismissive hand. “We tried. That is the best we can do for now. But, you can feel him, truly? And he is okay?”

“I won’t give you any false hope, the same as I told JK when he asked. I know that Yoongi is alive. I can feel the bond, but it’s like some sort of wall of smoke obscures the other end of it.”

“Alive,” he parrots, nearly matching JK’s words from earlier. “That will have to be enough for now.” Jimin gracefully stands up from his perch on the edge of the porch, the basket of potatoes abandoned and offers you his hand to help you do the same.

You slide your hand into his, and he hoists you up effortlessly. “Ow,” you splutter, wincing and clutching your side when he lets go, and your stance shifts without his support.

“Oh, fuck!” Jimin quickly takes the bulk of your weight, slipping an arm under yours and lifting you nearly onto your toes. “Let us get you back inside. You do need to be resting.”

The hostility you once felt so plainly from Jimin has substantially tapered off. It’s no longer a choking cloud of disdain, just a mild sourness you can smell mixing with his jasmine and chamomile scent. Though, you can distinctly feel a warmth from him that wasn’t there before. Perhaps in time, you can grow even closer to him. You’re sure that would bring Yoongi joy. It’s still unusual to care so much about someone you barely know. You’ve read books and heard stories about such things, but those all fell under the fiction genre…or so you thought.

He ushers you back inside, being mindful of how much tension gets put on your side with each step. “Thank you,” you murmur when he helps ease you into Namjoon’s rocking chair by the fire.

Namjoon startles, jerking around from his perusal of the book in his hands to take in you and Jimin. “What are you doing up? Were you just outside? You should still be in bed.”

“It is my fault,” Jimin tells Namjoon. “I was outside sulking, and Beautiful felt the need to tell me thank you. If I had not been hiding like a petulant child, she would not have had to get up and come find me.”

At that moment, JK emerges from the bathroom, bringing with him a cloud of steam and the faintest scent of banana and coconut. “A petulant child sounds about right,” he scoffs, giving Jimin a once over. “Glad to see we’re on the same page. Now, speaking of pages”—he casually walks into the living space with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips—“have you found anything of interest in that book of yours, Joon?”

“Would you mind putting some clothes on?” Namjoon makes a face at JK. “Nothing yet, but I only just found the one I think may be of help,” he says, pointing to a large pile of books you hadn’t noticed on the floor. “This is The History Of Bonds, written some few hundred summers ago. I was just about to begin browsing it when Mini helped Beautiful into the chair here and was explaining why she was out of bed.”

“Why are you out of bed?” JK asks as he bends to rummage through a cedar chest on the other side of the fireplace.

Jimin clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “You both are insufferable. Leave the woman in peace. The last thing she needs is you two fawning over her like old nannies.”

You hide a chuckle behind your hand. “It’s fine, Mini,” you intentionally use his nickname. “I just wanted to thank him for helping me. Everyone else was busy, and I figured walking outside wouldn’t do me any harm. As I see it, we should focus less on why I’m out of bed and more on what we will do next. How do we find out more information?”

“Well,” Jimin says, “I have been thinking about that since you brought it up. I think I might be able to get information from home. We have a magickal communication network that allows us to communicate directly between the courts. I am sure by now word has been sent to the Seelie Court regarding the capture of Yoongi. I will return home and see what information I can find and what I can learn that might help us.

Namjoon hands the book he is holding off to you. “If you would, please hold this for me for a moment.” The book's leather binding is soft, the pages smelling faintly of oranges as you absently thumb through them.

Rummaging around in a small wooden box on top of the fireplace mantel, Namjoon produces a small velvet draw-string bag. “Ravens Word?” Jimin asks, stepping closer to Namjoon.

“It would be the best way to relay information quickly. I have not perfected it, so it can only be used for short phrases or words, but it should be sufficient to give us some knowledge while we wait for you to return.” He hands the velvet bag to Jimin, who tucks it into his trousers pocket. “You remember how to use it?”

Jimin nods. “I will aim for the dining table unless you prefer somewhere else?”

“That should do just fine. I will put down a linen runner.” Namjoon enters the kitchen and opens the cabinets, setting a folded-up white cloth on the table.

JK eyes the pocket the velvet bag is tucked away in. “Are you sure Ravens Word is the best thing to use? Isn’t it traceable?”

“Traceable only if someone is looking for it. Even still, I will not include anything that might incriminate anyone. We long ago stopped using lowels for signature tracking anyway,” Jimin explains with a small shrug.

“Lowels? Ravens Word? Is there a dictionary in that stack of books that I can get or something?” you ask, letting your gaze flick between the three of them.

Jimin gives you an apologetic smile. “Right. A lowel is a creature resembling an owl of your world that can trace magick signatures not directly attached to an individual. So, things such as minor enchantments that use implements and components instead of the magick from within a being. Ravens Word is one such kind of enchantment. It is a mix of astral dust, herbs, and…um, well, the essence of a mortal-world raven. The mixture is powdered and can be used to send messages as long as the caster is familiar with where they want the message to appear. Imagine it like writing in the sand right before the tide comes in and washes it away—short and precise is best.”

“As for a dictionary, you’re just going to have to hope that mortal brain of yours can keep up, Beautiful,” JK says teasingly. Before you can think better of it, you flip him a vulgar one-fingered gesture. “Oh!” He clutches his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me!”

Jimin and Namjoon watch your exchange with mild curiosity. “Well, the sooner I leave, the sooner I can return. I will return as soon as I can,” Jimin says. He moves toward the door, brushing a hand over your shoulder as he passes. “Continue to rest. Once I return, I will begin instructing you on ways of the Courts. If you are to be bonded to my—er, Yoongi, then I will do what I can to ensure that you do so as an informed resident of this realm.” You’re so pleased that he’s finally being nice to you that you fail to argue that you don’t plan to remain a resident of this realm.

After Jimin was gone, Namjoon focused on the book resting in your lap. “I am curious. Are you able to read that?” he asks, nodding to it.

JK produces some clothing from the cedar chest, only stepping behind your chair to afford himself some privacy to pull them on. Once he’s dressed, he rests his forearms on the back of the chair, looking at the book over your shoulder.

The words on the front of the book look simple enough, but the longer you look at the characters, the more they bend and swirl, which confuses you. “No. I thought at first I might, but the letters don’t make sense. What language is it?”

“Ancient Sylvan,” JK says. “I can barely read it. Joon, where did you get this book?”

Namjoon curls his lips between his teeth, suppressing a mischievous smile. “I may have pilfered a thing or two the night I was put out of the castle.” He gives the book in your hands an affectionate glance. “Most might think that my most desired things are plants because I am a woodland nymph. Well, that might be partly true, but books have always been the real treasures that I’ve sought. You can learn so much from them. Beyond the words on the pages, I can learn the tree's history from which the pulp used to make the paper came. It is a marvel to learn history without needing a history book; any book will do.”

“Put out of the castle? Did you escape with Yoongi, too?”

Shaking his head, Namjoon briefly explains, “I come from Jimin’s Court, actually. We were younglings together. My parents worked in the royal gardens. I was caught one night helping Mini sneak out of the castle to be with Yoongi. I was turned out the very next morning and forbade to return.” He shrugs. “I much like my solitude here in the Hollow Lands anyway. Castle life is so…loud.”

“Interesting.” You want to ask many more questions but know they’re not the priority right now. You hold the book up to JK. “Do you want to give reading it a try?”

He laughs, stepping back from where he was leaning against the top of the rocking chair. “I’ll pass on that. Joon, why don’t you read it for us?”

“Certainly,” Namjoon says, coming to perch himself on the arm of the rocking chair. “The first page should be an index of sorts. Let us start there.”

You thumb open the book to the first page with writing on it. It doesn’t look much like an index page to you, having only a few lines of swirling text. “Here?”

“There are just a few chapters. I have only briefly skimmed this book in the past. But,” his eyes flick over the page, “ah, yes. Here we are, ‘Chapter 4: Communicating Through Bonds’. Finding a way for you to communicate with Yoongi through the bond seems like a good place to start.”

That is what you focus on for the next handful of days. And, much to your chagrin, it doesn’t work. At least, you don’t think it does. The process is easy–mainly depending on your inner focus and learning how to navigate and decipher the different fibers of the bond, of which you’ve come to find out there are seven–but the execution sparks no results.

The bond's first and most prominent thread is called the soul tether. It’s the part of the bond that allows Yoongi to use you to access his inner well of magick. It has a distinct feel, with a constant pulsing thrum and vibration. Anytime you focus on it, the magnetic pull that says you should be by Yoongi’s side increases.

The other strands are all more or less associated with the senses—Yoongi’s senses, to be exact. There are five basic senses and a sixth that is tied to the feeling of emotion. These more minor parts of the bond are associated with communicating. But the connection to them slithers away whenever you think you get a handle on it.

In a way, it feels like Yoongi is doing it on purpose. After nothing but failed attempts, Namjoon concluded that perhaps Yoongi was trying to keep Chaddick or Borgia from discovering his bonded status. Another chapter in The History Of Bonds touched on how another fae can detect things like that, but it can be masked to prevent that from happening.

“I am not sure how he is doing it. Perhaps it is linked to the natural instinct to protect your bonded mate while under duress.” Namjoon spreads his hands in defeat. “I just do not know at this point, and the book does not explain further. Though, I think it best if we move on to trying to find a different way to help.”

JK grumbles from his spot across the table from Namjoon, “I’m still for sneaking in and murdering those assholes. You know I could do it.”

“You’re insane if you think I’d let you go in alone. I told you before. We go in as a team or not at all.” You roll your eyes when JK sticks his tongue out at you. Turning your attention to Namjoon, you ask, “What did you have in mind?”

Namjoon glances down at the white linen runner still on the table—the remnants of Jimin’s message burned into the fabric. Drumming his fingers on the table, he hums thoughtfully. “Well, considering Mini’s message yesterday, we might be better off waiting until he returns to try to formulate another plan. He might be able to offer us a bit more insight. True to form, the Ravens Word was, indeed, limited.”

Sun Solstice.

Two words with a giant X crossing over them. That’s all that came through on the second day after Jimin left for the Seelie Court. When you questioned what that could mean, Namjoon and JK were puzzled. Namjoon explained that the Sun Solstice is the longest day of the fae year, celebrated by the Seelie. It’s mostly known as a day when they hold bonding ceremonies for the royals or Greater Fae. But, it also has been known to be days where they execute the Hell Condemned. Which is a term, you’ve learned, that is used for someone like Yoongi—an exiled fae convicted of high treason.

“How is it exactly that Chaddick has been able to deceive both courts for so long? Fae can’t lie, so how has he kept up such a ruse and made people believe Yoongi is a murderer?” It’s a thought that’s been driving you crazy since the beginning, but everything is moving so quickly that you didn’t think to broach the subject sooner. However, you feel like it’s vital information to know when trying to develop a game plan now.

JK pushes up from his seat to rifle through a cabinet in the kitchen. He begins pulling out dishes and various containers. “From what we’ve gathered over the years, it’s all because of his warty little bitch, Borgia. At least, that’s been the only reasonable explanation.”

“What exactly is she?” The image of the fiery-haired crone on the back of a pitch-black winged serpent has infiltrated your mind while both asleep and awake. Those fateful moments still come in fits and flashes, the chaos overwhelming.

“Swamp Hag,” Namjoon says. “Nasty, ancient being. It’s still a mystery how Chaddick sways her to do his bidding. They are typically solitary creatures that come from deep, deep to the south, beyond the borders of The Hollow Land. In a place that we call the Dread Court, though it is not a real Court. There are no presiding rulers or anything. No, it is a land ruled by darkness alone.”

“Swamp Hags are what you might think of as a witch,” JK continues, picking up the explanation as he starts to slice the loaf of bread Namjoon made after breakfast. “They have no natural magick but can harness the magick of other creatures or items. Creatures from the Dread Court are not held to the same…restrictions we find ourselves with. They can lie just as easily as a mortal man.”

“So you think she has somehow given Chaddick that ability?”

JK scoops a spoonful of honeyed butter onto a slice of bread and spreads it out. “More or less. That or she’s somehow found a way to glamor the entirety of the courts. It’s tough to say, considering we’ve had little inside intelligence over the years. The most information we get is from Mini, and even then, he can only ask so many questions to avoid unwanted suspicions.” He proceeds to butter several more slices of bread, arraying them on a plate and setting it on the table in front of you. “She’s the wild card in all this shit…and I hate it.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

It is imperative for Yoongi to hide the bond, but he can’t think of the rationale as to why for some reason. Whenever he wants to relax and let go, something kicks in and smothers that shining light all over again. He wants to reach out to it, to touch it and find comfort in it, but no matter how much he wants to…wait, what did he want to do?

It’s the same thing over and over.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Nothing makes sense, and yet everything is highlighted in stark clarity. If only he could turn off that incessant ringing. Maybe he could remember what he was thinking about. It’s important. It’s warm—comforting.

No.

Awareness. Smothering. Darkness.

Again and again.

Until…something changes.

Voices. Yes, there are voices. Hushed whispers that he is sure he wouldn’t be privy to if they knew he was aware of them.

“What is wrong with him?” A familiar voice. The voice of his nightmares.

Shuffling feet draw closer. “How am I to know? He looks and feels much the same to me as he did before. What has changed?” Fetid breath ghosts over his face as the figure comes even closer. “I think he is awake.”

The ringing in his ears intensifies as a hard fist connects with the side of his head. “Wake up, boy. Let me see those eyes that are so like your father’s.” The chains securing Yoongi’s arms over his head rattle with the residual force of the blow. Slowly, Yoongi lets his eyelids slide open. “Ah, there they are. Just as ugly as I remember.”

“Do not speak of my father, you filthy murderer!” Yoongi growls, focusing his anger on masking the bond even now that he’s broken out of his temporary fugue.

“Ah,” Chaddick rears back, a dainty hand pressing to his chest. “You wound me, Yoongi.” He flicks his other hand through his long, blond hair. The silky strands cascade over his shoulders as he moves in a slow circle around Yoongi. The space is small, the top room to one of the circular outer turrets, far from the castle proper. He stops after completing the circuit and comes back to face Yoongi. “Borgia, be a dear and remind him exactly who the murderer is here.” His crystalline eyes glitter with hatred as he watches Borgia step forward and press a gnarled, dirty finger to Yoongi’s temple.

“Yoongi, stop!!” Geumjae screams in pain. The metallic stench of blood is thick in the air. It coats his tongue and makes his grip on the short-hilted dagger slip as he raises it again to bring it back down in a harsh stroke. Geumjae’s next scream is wetter, bringing up a froth of bubbling, black blood dribbling down his chin.

He raises the blade again, eyes tracing the arc of it. The moon is high, its rays streaming just enough light inside the hallway for Yoongi to see the look of terror on his brother’s face as he swings the dagger a final time, the wicked edge severing Geumjae’s spinal cord with a satisfying pop of cartilage and muscle.

Blood soaks into the knees of his trousers as he kneels there, watching the light wink out in Geumjae’s eyes. “Like father like son, both dying a coward's death,” he says, his voice coarse and thick with disgust.

Except…it’s not his voice. It’s—

“NO! That is not what happened!” he snarls, jerking away from Borgia’s poisonous touch, severing the connection to the false memories.

“Are you so sure about that?” Chaddick sneers. “From my recollection of that day, your hands were very much covered in your brother’s blood.”

Yoongi shakes his head as much as he can with his arms up the way they are. His hands might have been covered in Geumjae’s blood, but he did not murder him. “You murdered him. You murdered them both!”

“How preposterous. The guilt has clearly warped your mind during your time away.” Chaddick's long black dressing robe swirls around his slippered feet as he approaches Yoongi, coming within just a few inches of him. “Rest assured. You will meet your justified fate for your crimes against the Unseelie Court.

Yoongi laughs a cold and reckless laugh that earns him a backhand across the face. The coppery tang of blood fills his mouth, dribbling down his chin from the cut left by one of Chaddick’s many finger rings. “What? Angry with me? Will you push me out the window like you did your wife? A sword through the belly like my father? How about—” Another blow across his mouth cuts him off.

Chaddick’s hawkish nose wrinkles in anger before he jerks his chin at Borgia and takes a step back, cradling his hand against his chest. “I want him to be pliable and weak. Scramble his brain if you have to, but you make him heel like a pup, or you will be the one I push out the damned window!”

There is momentary satisfaction as Yoongi watches Chaddick storm from the room until he’s reminded of who remains. “You ought to watch your tongue, boy, else he requests me to cut it out. You should know better than to speak such fallacies.”

“Fey can not lie, and you know it.”

That makes her suck her teeth. “Funny, if Fey can not lie, then how is it you say one thing and he says another?” Power glitters in her rheumy, yellowed eyes. “Story has it that you found yourself some dark magick out there in the wild. Allows you to lie and has further tainted your pitiful soul.” Her body shakes as she throws her head back and howls with laughter.

Yoongi has been suspicious about how Chaddick can lie and manipulate this whole time. He knows the stories, what the people believe happened to his father and brother—what Chaddick has made them believe. To anyone that is a victim of Chaddick’s manipulations, Borgia is simply an old seer that Chaddick employs to throw bones and tell fortunes. She’d come with Chaddick to the Court as part of his retainer of staff. Yoongi didn’t even know her capabilities and true nature until it was too late.

“Just kill me and be done with it,” Yoongi mutters, wincing as the burning around his wrists finally registers. Iron, thick and unbreakable, surrounds each delicate joint. The chain connected to the manacles disappears into the darkness above.

Borgia cackles, drawing Yoongi’s attention. “He plans to marry your mother. Do you know that?” Yoongi tries to control his breathing as he listens. “The way I hear it, she pants after him like a mongrel in heat.” He can’t hold back any longer. Yoongi pushes off with his feet, swinging wildly in Borgia’s direction. His right foot connects solidly with her jaw, sprawling her flat on the floor.

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, his voice twisted with the pain that echoes down his arms. His body sways, toes scraping at the stone to stop his momentum.

Her moan of pain turns into a rasping chuckle. “Fuck me?” Borgia pushes her bony body off the floor, swaying sharply as she gains her feet. “You will regret that, just as your brother regretted trying to save your life. He told me so right before he took his last breath…right before I cursed his soul to eternal darkness!” she screeches, lunging at Yoongi with surprising agility. Before he can react and jerk out of her reach, her skeletal fingers close around a fistful of his shirt and jerk him forward.

Pain explodes behind his eyes as the fingers of her other hand dig into the flesh of his neck. Ragged fingernails drag over his skin, leaving fire in their wake. He opens his mouth to scream, but silence is all that comes as he’s swept away to another time, another place…surrounded by the darkness of horrid memories that are far too real.

The blankets are snatched off Yoongi’s bed, bringing him with them to land in a sprawling heap on the floor. “Seven Hells!” He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. “Geumjae? What is going on?”

His brother crouches beside him, giving Yoongi a clear view of his face. There are splatters of black across his cheeks and down his neck—blood. Before Yoongi can question him again, Geumjae presses a finger to his lips. “We do not have much time. We have to go. Now!” he urges, grabbing at Yoongi’s arms to help untangle him from the sheets.

“Can you hold on—stop, ow!” Yoongi swats at Geumjae’s hand. “You pinched me, asshole!”

Geumjae slaps a hand over Yoongi’s mouth. “Stop being so loud,” he whispers harshly through gritted teeth. “I do not have time to explain right now. I just need you to trust me. We have to get Mom and get out of the castle. Right. Now.”

It’s not often that Geumjae acts so seriously. If anything, he’s the more relaxed of the two. When their father steps down, Geumjae is expected to take the throne as the eldest son. A revelation he grumbles about more often than not. He’d much rather spend his time playing the lute and singing great ballads to the simpering ladies of the court.

“Why are you covered in blood?” Yoongi questions when Geumjae lowers his hand, matching the volume of his brother’s whisper this time.

Geumjae looks at the door to Yoongi’s bedroom as if checking to ensure no one is looming in the open doorway. “I need you to listen to me, Yoongi. I mean, really listen, okay?” Yoongi purses his lips and nods. “I was coming in from the stables and overheard an argument in the east courtyard. It was Father and Chaddick. By the time I snuck around the corner, it was too late. Five handspans of steel were sunk into Father’s belly, Chaddick’s hand wrapped around the hilt, and that damned red-headed crone of his cackling with glee behind him.” He holds up a hand as Yoongi opens his mouth to protest. “I said listen! I ran as fast as I could and came straight here. This blood is from the guard stationed outside your room. He was one of Chaddick’s men. I could not risk him alerting someone as we left. We can discuss it later, but we need to go now. We have to get Mom and leave!”

It’s not that Yoongi didn’t comprehend anything Geumjae said. It’s just that there is a process to accepting and understanding something like that. Father, dead? Yoongi’s never heard a funnier—albeit not amusing at all—thing being said. “Jae,” he whispers, his heart quivering violently in his chest.

“I know, baby brother, I know.” Geumjae helps a robotic Yoongi to his feet before gripping his hand and pulling him out into the hallway's darkness.

As they approach the wing that leads to their mother’s bedroom, Geumjae slows down to a walk so he can peer around every corner to check that it’s clear.

Silent tears coat Yoongi’s cheeks. Every time Geumjae looks back at him, he scrubs his face with the sleeve of his pajama shirt, not wanting his brother to see his weakness.

“We should just go kill him,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Kill who? Me?” comes a cold voice from the shadows down the hall beside them. They whip around, Geumjae shoving Yoongi behind him. Chaddick moves closer, his bloodied sword trailing him out of the darkness. A few steps behind him crouches Borgia, her sickly-yellow eyes catching in the moonlight like a monster lurking in the dark waiting to pounce.

Geumjae reaches back, fingers wrapping around a small dagger tucked into the top of the back of his trousers. He whips it out, brandishing it. “Just let us get our mother and walk away. We will leave here and never return.”

Chaddick raises one icy blond eyebrow. “Do you think me a fool, Geumjae? Come, boy, I know you are not that thick-headed. You and I know I can not let you leave here alive. Either of you.”

“Jae, stop,” Yoongi urges, tugging on the back of his brother’s shirt as Geumjae steps toward Chaddick.

“Run, Yoongi, run as fast as you can. Leave here and find a way to reveal the truth.” Geumjae maneuvers himself to block Chaddick’s line of sight to Yoongi completely. “Go!”

“Guards!” Chaddick bellows, startling Yoongi. “Sound the bell! The king has been murdered! Hark, hark, hark! To arms! Defend the Court!”

Geumjae glances back at Yoongi, realizing he still hasn’t moved. It’s this instant that Chaddick attacks. Glinting steel slides right through Geumjae’s back, tenting the fabric of his shirt before slicing through in a rush of black blood. Blood spews from Geumjae’s lips, misting Yoongi’s face as he makes one last attempt to get Yoongi to move, “Run!” Geumjae takes a staggering step toward Yoongi, the sword sliding back out of his body. Bloody fingers land on Yoongi’s chest, shoving him backward.

Yoongi screams a gut-churning, heart-wrenching scream that echoes off the stone walls and fills the entire hall. Just as Yoongi finds purchase, after slipping in the pool of blood steadily growing at his feet, Chaddick begins another mockery announcement. “Guards! The Crowned Prince has been slain! To arms! Beware! Min Yoongi, murderer!”

“Not dead yet, you bastard!” Yoongi hears Geumjae snarl. He glances back over his shoulder, locking eyes with his brother one last time—the final time. Geumjae smiles, even through the blood and the pain, letting Yoongi know that it’s okay…it will always be okay.

“Get out of my head, you evil bitch!” Yoongi groans with the effort of severing Borgia’s connection. “I will take great pleasure in gutting you like the slimy bottom feeder you are!”

Borgia hacks a glob of bloody phlegm onto the floor at Yoongi’s feet. “Good luck with that when all that is going to be left of that brain of yours when I am done with it is mush!” She smacks her lips together, tongue running over her cracked and discolored teeth. The red of her hair looks like rust in the dim light coming in through the arrow slits at the top of the room's walls. “Are you curious about your brother’s last moments? Do you want to know how he died on his knees, begging and pissing his pants? How about how we made your mother watch as Chaddick opened his belly and fed his guts to the hounds?”

Yoongi’s nostrils flare, the pain of seeing those last moments all over again almost too much. “Why are you doing this?”

She titters, clucking her tongue. “I do not need a reason to want to see the likes of you and yours finally fall from their gilded seats into an iron cage.” Waving a gnarled hand, she dismisses that line of discussion. “What I would like to talk about now is why every time I dip into your noodly little brain, I can feel something I have never felt before. But every time I try to take a closer peek, it moves further away. Tell me, Hell Condemned, what are you trying to hide from me?”

Even with tears freely streaming down his cheeks, Yoongi silently pats himself on the back for being able to keep his bond hidden. He may not have realized what it was before, why he wasn’t allowed just to let go. But, now he does. He understands with brutal clarity what exactly he’s protecting. It only pains him that he’s not allowed to take comfort in the bond, to luxuriate in it while facing the darkness ahead. No, he can’t even think of—before the image of your face can fully form in his mind, he’s willing it away.

“I guess you will never know,” Yoongi finally responds, letting his eyes slip closed and promptly ignoring any of Borgia’s further questions. Even when she screams at him and presses her filthy fingers into his skin again, he meets the replay of dark memories with a slight smile on his busted lips.

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“What am I supposed to do, Mal? It’s been weeks.”

Malcolm slides another espresso across the small cafe table to Monica. “Ye say she wanted tae come ‘ere fur she was after something. Whit was it again?”

“Stupid stories. Well, not stupid, but silly children's stories. Her grandfather was one of those head-in-the-clouds types, and he was always filling her head full of fantasy bullshit about pixie dust and fairies. Utter nonsense.”

In the three weeks since you went missing, Monica has more or less moved in with Malcolm. She canceled her flight home, returned the rental car, and put in for an extended sabbatical at work. In part, she feels responsible for your disappearance. She’s sworn off alcohol and refuses to go home until you’re found.

“Ye dinnae believe in magick?” Malcolm asks hesitantly.

Monica scoffs. “Do you expect me to believe some little green man with fairy wings carted her off? Be real, Mal.” When he just looks at her, she continues, “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff?!”

One of his big shoulders lifts, and he sighs. “There are stories, ye ken? Things folk only blether aboot in hushed whispers. Stories aboot people disappearing around Beltane.” Monica leans forward, bringing the espresso up for a small sip, intent on Malcolm’s story. “The veil between worlds is thin, allowing the fae folk ta donder among the mortals. Some say those that disappear are taken back tae the fae realm. There was this yin lassie, mah maw knew her when they were weans, disappeared when she was eighteen. She showed up almost a decade after, had barely aged a day, spouting off aboot a peace finally comin’ tae the courts allowing her tae make her escape.”

“Do you expect me to believe that? Honestly?”

“All I’m saying is that there are folk who have disappeared the same as yer friend. Would it be so bad tae think she’s somehow caught up in another world? Ye said so yerself that she doesn’t feel here anymore.”

She hates that Malcolm is right, and she has said that; she still says that. Because that’s precisely what it feels like. Is this why you talked her into coming to Scotland? Did you come looking to disappear? Monica reflected on your last few conversations many times over the previous few weeks. Everything points back to your grandfather…maybe she should have paid more attention or been more empathetic to what losing him did to you. Perhaps then you would still be here.

🌸🌸🌸

Namjoon

Maintaining the new ward is taxing. The leaves of his seeded oak are starting to drag the ground, an alarming new development. Jimin is delayed in returning, his second message using the Ravens Word still smoldering the linen runner on the table.

Tonight.

They had waited, thinking Jimin would be returning soon. But one day turned into another and eventually became almost an entire moon cycle. Namjoon is ready for his friend to return, hoping he’ll bring with him another implement or two. The haggardness is creeping back around his eyes, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep the garden flourishing. He knows if it comes down to it, the plants will have to suffer to preserve the ward; it would be for the best, but it still pains Namjoon to consider it.

“Are you feeling okay?” Your inquiry startles him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I should have knocked.” You prop your hip against the bedroom door jamb, where Namjoon excused himself hours ago so he could lie down and nurse a headache.

He pushes up on his elbows, wincing slightly at the thundering ache still pounding away between his temples. “Feeling a bit better now. Has JK returned from the western glen?”

“Joon, JK returned hours ago. You’ve been in here nearly all day. It’s why I came to check on you. Mini should be arriving soon, I’d imagine.”

That gets Namjoon’s attention. He clears his throat and absently pats his clothes as he slides off the bed. “Right. I must have laid down a bit longer than I thought I had.” He wishes he’d have at least slept some.

“It’s your magick, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The reason you look and probably feel like shit.”

His brow pinches. “I look like shit?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week, and the bags under your eyes are turning into suitcases.” The worry you feel is evident in your voice, even if Namjoon doesn’t quite understand your odd phrasing.

There is no use in trying to skirt around the truth, as you’ve already figured it out. “Yes. It is my magick. Or rather, a lack of. I was already nearing my limit when I let down the ward the first time. Now that I have had it back up for several weeks, and with the bond necklace only having given me a few additional weeks…well, it would seem I need another boost or a miracle.”

“Maybe we should find you a human to bond with,” you say. Namjoon can tell you’re joking, but the idea has crossed his mind on multiple occasions.

“Mmm,” he hums, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You push off from the door jamb and gesture over your shoulder with a thumb. “JK has dinner ready if you’re hungry.”

He follows you out of the room and settles at the dining table across from you. Jungkook has a platter of grilled meats and vegetables waiting. The fragrant scent of herbs and spices makes Namjoon’s stomach give an appreciative grumble. His appetite hasn’t been what it should be, another testament to how he’s been feeling.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jungkook says after setting plates and cutlery beside the platter. “There is another rack of trimmings keeping warm in the coals.”

Jungkook’s always been a fairly decent cook. The tender meat is like butter melting on Namjoon’s tongue. He’s confident that if he can eat enough tonight, he’ll maintain his strength for another day or two at least.

You’re awfully quiet as you slice up the vegetables Jungkook spooned onto your plate. Namjoon can almost see the wheels turning in your head. There’s something on your mind. He’s gotten good at picking up on your tells and personal nuances over the last few weeks while waiting for Jimin to return. The awkwardness that was there in the beginning no longer exists. You might have been a stranger to him the first few days, but now you’re so much more. A friend—but even that does not seem to suffice when he considers you. Between the training you’ve been doing with Jungkook and the help you’ve been putting in around the house, you’ve been spending a lot of your free time helping Namjoon with his garden and learning all you can about the plants he so dearly loves.

It’s very apparent that Jungkook has also taken a liking to you. Primarily, he dotes on you, waiting on you hand and foot. When Jungkook returns from his daily scouting trips, he often returns with a swath of wildflowers you’ve taken to decorating the porch railing with. Bright blooms of pink, purple, and blue cover nearly every available inch. Namjoon knows what it means but doesn’t dare to broach the subject. Especially considering he would then have to reflect on his own internal feelings, and that’s a space he would rather avoid for the foreseeable future.

“Would that even work?” Your question pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry. Would what work?” he asks after swallowing a bite of meat.

You poke at a crispy potato wedge, chewing on your bottom lip instead of the food. “Bonding with a human?” You finally look up from your plate, your eyes meeting Namjoon’s curious gaze.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, pausing with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

You shrug. “His magick is straining again. I was just curious if bonding with a human would help him like it helped Yoongi since Joon is a woodland nymph, not a Greater Fae or whatever.”

Your curiosity is endearing. The fact you care enough about Namjoon to ask makes him feel good. “I imagine it would work much the same way. There are far fewer stories in our histories where a woodland nymph took a human mate, but we have our own inner wells for magick. Ours are more connected with where we plant our soul seed. My oak,” he gestures toward where his towering oak sits outside, “is where my magick is channeled from. It enters through my connection with my tree and into my inner well. The way a human bond works is it primarily allows the Fey to wield more of their own power safely. If I bonded with a human, it would allow me to draw on more magick through my oak.”

“Where does your oak get magick from?”

“Bronwe—that’s the name she whispered to me when her first leaf began to sprout—my oak,“ Namjoon explains, “draws her power from deep below the ground. Her roots reach for many miles in all directions, feeding on the life force of nature itself. Though, the more magick I draw from her without having some sort of stabilizer, the weaker her roots become. That is why her branches have begun to droop so low. I have been trying to take too much from her.” Namjoon drops his eyes from yours, resuming his study of his plate. “So, yes, to answer your question. A human mate would help—if just to give her a break.”

“Can more than one fae be bonded to the same human?”

Jungkook chokes on his mouthful of food. Namjoon reaches over and hammers a fist against his back, suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe himself. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’m just curious,” you declare. “I still know very little about this world and how it works. Just asking questions.”

“Sounds to me like you are causing trouble with your questions,” Jimin’s amused voice carries from the porch just before the door opens, and in steps the Fey himself.

“Mini!” You shove back from the table and skip to the door, pulling Jimin into a hug. Namjoon watches you, thankful for Jimin’s interruption and amused at the look of surprise on his face as you press your face against his chest and inhale deeply. You’ve been gravitating toward scents recently, primarily seeking clothing worn by Yoongi or left here by Jimin. It’s made Namjoon curious if it has anything to do with the deep connection between Jimin and Yoongi, despite there not being an actual bond between them.

Jimin pats your back. “At least one of you is happy to see me,” he teases.

“What news do you have for us?” JK asks, standing up and grabbing another plate from the cabinet. “You must be starving, have a seat. Eat.”

After settling down beside you, once you resume sitting at the table, Jimin fills his plate with food before he begins. “I expect you got my Ravens Word messages?”

“Sun Solstice.” Namjoon confirms, “We did. What is happening?”

“Chaddick has announced a marriage decree to Yoongi’s mother come the Sun Solstice, an act of unification, he claims. It will coincide with his public execution before the whole of both courts. The end of the Min line to finally bring true peace to both Courts. A blessing and a curse.” He pauses, taking a moment to meet everyone’s eyes. “I saw him.”

“You saw him? How? Where?” Jungkook’s hand tightens around his fork so tightly that Namjoon hears the wooden handle creak.

Jimin visibly shivers. “It was requested that my family be present for the announcement. Chaddick presented the decree and began working with the Seelie Court advisors on a power merger. He intends to be the first Seelie to sit on the Unseelie Throne. This is exactly what he has wanted all along, but he knew as long as Yoongi was still alive, there was no way he could lay claim to the Min throne—regardless of Yoongi’s exiled status.”

“How did you manage to see him? Surely they have him locked away in the dungeons?” Namjoon questions, knowing full well the typical etiquette observed for prisoners.

The sigh Jimin lets out is hollow, exhausted. “Chaddick is bold. He was parading him in the open, shackled in iron like a beast. His eyes were so—they were so…empty. I could feel the taint of darkness surrounding him, bleeding from him. It stank of a swamp,” he sneers.

“Borgia. She must be using some sort of witchy shit on him.” You shove away your plate in frustration. “Ugh! I wish I knew more about this bond. If it gives him access to more power, shouldn’t he be powerful enough to break free from it or something?”

Jimin gives you a sympathetic look. “Was there anything you all found out that might help? Anything about the bond we can work toward? The Sun Solstice is just a week away.”

Namjoon has an idea, but he’s unsure how receptive anyone else will be to it. You gave him the idea, actually. Even then, it’s a long shot that anyone would be comfortable agreeing. But, then again—he glances at Jungkook, who is staring at you like he wants to hold you and soothe your worries. Jimin, well, he already knows Jimin will do anything for Yoongi. And, as far as himself…

“I think I might know of a way to help,” Namjoon admits, his voice wavering slightly with nerves. “But, it is a bit eccentric.”

🌸🌸🌸

Jungkook

“You want us to do what?” Jungkook can’t believe what he’s hearing.

The tips of Namjoon’s ears blush as he stammers out his idea again. “It might be possible for us to all bond with Beautiful, giving Yoongi unfettered access to our magick through her. It would have to be enough for him to overpower whatever enchantment Borgia has over him. There is no way she is more powerful than four Fey combined.”

“I’ll do it,” you don’t hesitate to state. “If it can help, I’ll do it. I’ll fuck all of you at the same time if it means helping Yoongi, if it means we rescue him and send Chaddick to the fiery pits of Hell…or wherever it is that bad people from here go.”

Jungkook can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips. He knew he liked you from the moment he laid eyes on you. The fact you were meant for his best friend didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate you. Spending the last several weeks holed up in Namjoon’s house with you only intensified that appreciation. Since Namjoon said your side was healed well enough, you’ve asked Jungkook to help train you with a sword every morning. And fuck if he doesn’t like how your body moves when you swing it. You might be no better than a child playing with a toy sword right now, but you don’t give up—which is what makes him keep agreeing to train you.

“Are you certain this would work?” Jimin asks, his untouched plate of food forgotten on the table.

Namjoon stands up from the table and moves over to his stack of books. “I came across it a few days ago. It is not a definitive account but a speculation based on transcribed scrolls in an abandoned temple found near the Dread Court. There is a small passage about ‘Circle Bonding’,” he explains, flipping through an old, tattered book. The pages are barely staying within the binding. Dust drifts down from the book with each additional page Namjoon turns. “Here.” He turns the book around and gently lays it on the table.

Looking at the page, Jungkook can see it is in a standard script, likely part of the translation process. “‘A practice observed mostly by lesser Fey seeking more power’,” he reads off, skimming over the small paragraph. “‘Although the effects may vary according to the Fey involved, it is believed to be most effective with at least one Greater Fey’. Well, we got that covered, at least. Twice over,” he muses, glancing at Jimin.

Jimin lightly brushes the edge of the page. “Is it so simple?”

“I am willing,” Namjoon says. “It may also help with my magick. I do not know how long I can keep us concealed here.”

“With luck, my friend, you won’t need to keep the ward up much longer. If we bond and Yoongi gets the boost he needs, I say if he doesn’t make it out by himself, then we orchestrate an attack the night before Sun Solstice. The Seelie Court will be in attendance. I’m sure there will be a feast in preparation for the sun to rise…the perfect distraction and opportunity to slip in and make some noise.”

You’re nodding along to Jungkook’s plan, a sparkle of light shimmering in your eyes. He knew you liked this kind of stuff. There’s no way you wouldn’t with all the stories your grandpa told you. You’ve shared a few with him over the weeks. His favorite is The Young Tamlane of Carterhaugh. He wonders how long it will take you to realize that story is, in part, based on himself.

“So, we agree, then? We try to bond and give Yoongi the extra oomph he needs to escape. If, for some reason, he doesn’t, we say fuck it and storm the castle in a last-ditch effort. If they’re going to try and execute him anyway, it’s not like we have other options.” You look at Jimin, the only one who hasn’t voiced his agreement yet. “What do you say, Mini? We didn’t start on the right foot, but I no longer care about that. I just want Yoongi to be alive and happy.”

“It would mean I am connected to him, too. So, if sharing a bond with all of you saves Yoongi, then of course I agree.” Jimin smiles. It’s soft and sweet, something Jungkook hasn’t seen from him in a while.

Jungkook begins clearing away the dishes from the table, uncaring of the uneaten food. “Well, no time like the present. We need to find implements to use. Joon, do you have anything?”

“I believe I know just the things,” Namjoon replies. He heads straight for the small box on the mantle, where he pulled the bag of Ravens Word from. “I have been saving these for a long time.” Returning to the table, he opens his palm and reveals three near-identical purple and white crystal shards. Delicate silver chains crisscross over and around them, securing the stones at the ends as the pendants of necklaces.

“Those are beautiful,” you say, looking at the stones in Namjoon’s palm. Your lips make this cute ‘o’ shape, parting just enough for Jungkook to see the tip of your tongue.

Jimin grabs the bag he discarded on the floor by the door when he first came in. “They will match perfectly with this.” He pulls back the clasps on the bag and reaches in. “I got something for you. I figured you would be tired of having to roll up the sleeves on the tops and cuffing the pants of these giants.” Purple silks and velvets come out of the bag, silvery and light blue accents peeking through here and there. “Some blouses, fitting of your beauty, and some tapered trousers more suitable to your stature.”

“Oh, wow. Mini, you didn’t have to do that.”

The smile that graces Jimin’s face reminds Jungkook of just what made Yoongi so goo-goo-eyed, to begin with. Jimin has an ethereal beauty that goes beyond even that of a Fey.

“Perhaps not. But I wanted to. I want you to be comfortable and well cared for, truly.” A bit of color creeps into Jimin’s cheeks, further brightening his smile. You roll your lips between your teeth and do this little shoulder swish that’s just so fucking cute. Jungkook’s sure he could swoon over the Seelie Prince himself if he weren’t so caught up in watching your reaction to Jimin. You disappear into the bedroom to try on the new clothing.

“Okay, Prince Charming,” Jungkook teases. “A few weeks away, and you come back a different Fey.”

“Not different, just more accepting, perhaps. She is forever a part of Yoongi, and I love him—all of him.” Jimin sets his bag back down, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I know I was wrong in the beginning, I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I will forever be embarrassed and sorry for my actions. I am simply doing what I can to rectify it.”

Jungkook steps around the table and places a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Yoongi would be proud of you.”

“I hate that he is not here for this. Do you think he would be accepting? She is his mate, his bond…would he be okay with us making that connection, too?” The worry in Jimin’s voice is evident.

Namjoon moves to stand beside them, the necklaces dangling from his hand. “I believe if Yoongi were aware of ‘Circle Bonding’ before all of this, it would have been his idea. You know how much he loves you, Mini. He and JK have been inseparable since they were younglings. Of course, he would want him to be a part of his bond.” It’s not lost on Jungkook that Namjoon doesn’t include himself in the assurance.

“Do not leave yourself out of that, Joon. He would want you, too,” Jimin responds immediately, clearly having caught it the same as Jungkook. “You have done more for him in the last ten years than JK, and I combined. If anything, you would be his first choice.” They both chuckle, knocking shoulders playfully.

“How do I look?” you call from the bedroom as you step out.

Jungkook swallows thickly, subconsciously licking his lips as he takes you in. The lilac top hugs your figure, accentuating your waist, flaring over your hips, and pushing your breasts up. He sends up a silent thank you to the Moon for Jimin choosing those trousers. They hug your legs, making them look like they were dipped in starlight.

Jimin breaks the silence first. “Exquisite.”

“Thank you, good sir.” You give an exaggerated curtsy, your fingers pinching at the flared fabric over your hips, making them all melt into laughter. “Now, who’s ready to do this?”

🌸🌸🌸

You can’t believe what you’re about to do. When you slipped into the bedroom to change into the beautiful clothing Jimin brought you, you nearly panicked and climbed out the window. Since the moment JK dumped you through the gateway and into the loch, your entire life has been one giant tailspin. It’s only been recently that you’ve managed to stop the nauseating swirl and begin to get a grasp on things. Now, you’re about to take another nosedive into the unknown.

It’s not that you don’t want to bond with these fae—you don’t mind that part—but you can’t seem to get rid of the tingling beneath your skin when you think about how Yoongi might react. You’ve been trying to remain positive, spending a lot of time reaching out to the bond and frustrating yourself over and over again when you run into the same foggy wall as before.

Jimin’s news of Yoongi made your stomach churn. You immediately grabbed for the bond and threw everything you had against the wall separating you, but it was useless. If you’re being honest, the reason you agreed so quickly to try the circle bonding was the thought that maybe if someone else is part of the bond, then they can use their magick to break through the barrier and finally communicate with Yoongi. From what JK explained and what little you could read of the book Namjoon had, in theory, it should work in a way that allows them to feel the bond you have with Yoongi and each other.

“We should start with JK,” Namjoon suggests. “Go in sequence of ability.”

JK huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess that makes sense. Are we all going to do the rites first?”

Jimin looks to Namjoon, and they both nod. “I think that might be for the best. We can begin the bonding process all at once and then…umm, the other.”

“Foursome,” JK chirps. “The other would be what they call a foursome.”

“You do not have to be so crude,” Jimin murmurs. “Besides, what if we do not want to do that together?”

“Are you worried we’ll laugh at your little cock?” JK pokes his lips out in a faux pout. “It’s okay, Mini. I promise not to laugh too much.”

Jimin raises a slim brow, his lips tipping into a smirk. “I was thinking more along the lines of not wanting to make you feel inadequate in comparison.”

“Okay, okay, enough dick talk,” you laugh, thankful for the banter that has eased the tension. “If it’s any consideration, I wouldn’t mind if everyone was present. Based on my experience, inhibitions seem to have no place during a bonding. I doubt any of you will even care if you accidentally cross swords.”

That earns you a loud, full laugh from JK and curious looks from Namjoon and Jimin. “That has to be in reference to sex of some kind,” Namjoon muses. “I will have you all know that I have never—well, I have never experienced copulation with another being.”

“Fucking knew it!” JK exclaims.

This makes you pause. “Are you sure you want to do this, then, Joon? The bond…it, well, it is very controlling.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I know. If I am being honest with you, with all of you, I have taken quite a liking to you, Beautiful. I do not believe in coincidences, the sun and moon move in mysterious ways, but the stars are always aligned precisely how they are meant to be. You were destined to come here, to be a part of this world, and now you are making it tilt to rotate on your axis.”

You can feel it, the rightness in his words. You didn’t travel to Scotland on a whim as you thought. No, you were inevitably drawn to this time and place as a beacon of hope and change. Everything your grandpa ever told you has prepared you for these very moments. You know how this story is supposed to end.

When you lead the way to the garden, the moon is high in the sky, the air warm and humid against your skin. Beautiful ivy vines, fragrant jasmine, and drooping wisteria cover the moon gate. The flowers have bloomed fully over the last week or so, creating a magnificent backdrop as you stand with your hand clasped in JK’s. Jimin gently wraps the delicate silver chain around your hands, much like he and JK did for you and Yoongi.

You can’t help reaching out to the bond again. Trying to somehow let Yoongi know what you’re about to do is meant to help him. Being of the Unseelie Court, the words JK speaks mirror the ones spoken by Yoongi, vowing to be like the moon that gives way to the sun. You feel the same draw, reciting the words you also spoke to Yoongi. As the last word leaves your mouth, you gasp, stumbling forward into JK and clutching your chest.

The bond undulates, swelling inside you with the onslaught of new feelings. It’s like JK has reached under your ribs and is squeezing your heart. “Fucking hell,” you rasp as your body finally adjusts to the new sensations. “Is that normal?”

JK’s eyes are wide and full of alarm as he clutches you to his chest. “Like being hooked up to a car battery.” Usually, that would make you laugh, hearing JK speak so casually about things in the mortal world, considering the amount of time he has spent there during the last ten years. But, now, it barely registers over the ocean roaring in your ears—only, they’re not your ears.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

Standing on the rocky precipice, looking out over the deadly drop into the crashing waves below, he feels something inside of him change. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his manacled hands grow clammy, having nothing to do with the ocean mist that lingers in the air.

“Would you like your body to be dumped into the ocean once I finish with it?” Borgia asks, sucking her teeth as she ambles over the craggy rock face to sneer at him. “I would shove you over right now if I could get away with it.” She uses a high-pitched mocking voice, “Oh, no, he jumped! I could not stop him!” Her laugh is like the crumbling of dead leaves, raspy and hollow. Yoongi barely registers the fire lancing through his wrists when she tugs on the iron chain, making him stumble behind her like a dog on a leash. He’s so focused on the new sensation in the bond that he doesn’t mind when she forces him onto his knees, the barnacles on the rocks cutting through his pants. “Collect those for me, dog, and I will let you have a bite of bread for dinner.”

His fingers dig at the crustaceans, trying to pry them from the rock. He doesn’t care that it’s nearly impossible to do with just his fingers, as long as Borgia doesn’t touch him. Because, right now, he is leagues away…standing in front of a moon gate, looking into the eyes of one of his best friends.

🌸🌸🌸

The sensations level out, letting you get a better grasp on them. After Jimin unwinds the necklace, JK slides his hands up your arms, sucking in a breath when his fingertips graze the exposed skin of your neck. He licks his lips and jerks back, releasing you. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reluctant to let him step away. The connection between you urges you to go to him. Now that it has tasted his magick, it wants more. It needs you to complete the bond to his inner well.

Your eyes drift to Namjoon as he takes JK’s place before you. He offers you his hand, a warm smile on his face. “May I?”

Instead of answering him, you feel a need to be honest with him about something that has been eating away at you for a long time now. “Joon, I—I need to tell you something.”

Namjoon’s brow pinches and his hand slowly lowers to his side. “What is it?”

You chance a glance at Jimin, who is watching you with an open expression of genuine support. He nods his chin slightly in further encouragement. You reach for Namjoon’s hand, taking it up and holding it between both of your own. “When JK and I first came back after Yoongi was taken, there were some things I overheard during all the chaos. Things that I do not think I was supposed to hear but that were said accidentally with all the stuff going on. Joon—Namjoon,” you pause, letting him take in the realization, “I hope you are not too upset with me.”

His eyes drop like he’s taking a moment to filter through his feelings. “No control,” he finally says. “You know my true name, but still, you hold no power over me for it.” He looks up at you, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “I am thankful for you telling me. You are full of surprises, you sweet, wonderful being.”

“Do you know my real name?” JK asks, drawing your attention.

You shake your head. “I do know Jimin, though. Those were the only two names I heard that night. I don’t know if it was because someone else said them, and that’s why I don’t have power with them. Or, Jimin thinks it might have something to do with me slowly growing into my own faeness. Either way, it’s not my intention to have that kind of power over any of you. I didn’t want to ask you, and it somehow not be the same as with them. I would never have asked it of Yoongi if I thought there was any other way to guarantee my safety at the time.”

“Tell her,” JK urges, nudging Jimin with his elbow. “I want her to know my name, too.”

Jimin chuckles softly, giving JK a knowing look. “His name is Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook of the Unseelie Court, Royal Guard to the Crowned Prince.”

“You didn’t have to get all proper like that,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes, but then he quickly looks to you, hopeful.

“Jungkook,” you test out his name, liking how it feels on your lips. “I like knowing your name without having some control over you with it.” That makes Jungkook positively beam, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and over his dark hair. He may not be a fae prince, but he sure looks like it to you. You turn back to Namjoon, intimately aware of the butterflies that sweep through your belly when you meet his gaze. “Shall we?”

The words Namjoon chooses are different but no less potent in their meaning. “As all living things need the sun, water, and nutrients to grow, so too do I need you as my mate to grow beyond what I am now. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my grove and find shade under the branches of Bronwe. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

It’s so natural now, responding to his vow with your own. “Whether as a mighty oak or a delicate rose, I come to you as tender hands of care. I will be the cooling shade to searing heat and the suckle of water when it's dry. I will protect you and Bronwe with all that I am and ever could be. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

Namjoon’s hand tightens around your forearm as you both sway from the impact of the tether beginning to form. “Wow,” he says. The sentiment of his surprise and awe echoes inside you as the bond changes again. Your nose twitches as you catch the faintest whiff of briny ocean air.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

Something is happening to the bond. The harder he pushes it down to mask it, the harder it pushes back. It’s clear to him that you’ve accepted a bond with Jungkook, though the reasoning alludes him. He trusts his friends implicitly. Whatever it is they are doing with you, he knows it’s for the benefit of everyone.

The moon is bright overhead, something that used to bring Yoongi immense amounts of joy because it would revitalize his inner well and make him feel refreshed, even when his magick was at its weakest, right before you got dumped into his life—literally. Since he’s been taken, Borgia has made sure to only take him out at night when she feels like he’s extra compliant. Tonight is one of those such instances. He’s been feeling listless the last day or two, using all of his reserved strength to keep the bond masked, long having given up trying to fight the nightmare of the night he escaped the castle that she makes him relive constantly.

“Scrape at those faster, boy. We do not have all night.” Saliva splashes onto his boot as she spits on the ground beside him. He ignores it, digging his now bloodied fingers around a particularly stuck barnacle, his eyes focused on the moonlight glinting off the ocean in the distance, but all he can see are a beautiful pair of turquoise eyes that are so full of love as they move to in front of him—but not him.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin is the last to step in front of you. Unshed tears are glistening in his eyes as Jungkook helps Namjoon twine the third necklace around your clasped hands.

The words Jimin says are similar to Yoongi’s but from the sun's perspective as opposed to the moon's. “As the sun provides light for the moon to glow, so too will I shine for you as my mate. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my stars and find warmth within my soul. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

You combine your own words, feeling like that is the right thing to do. “The moon spends its entire life reflecting the light of the sun so that others may see, even in the dark. I offer myself to you as an equal to shine for the moon. I open my heart to you so we may both be bright for him, even in the darkest of times. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.” The inclusion of Yoongi is automatic, offering Jimin not just a bond but a promise that you will never try to be more prominent in Yoongi’s life, instead standing as an equal to Jimin.

The bond shivers, bringing an added warmth that shines brighter than the midday sun. Jimin closes his eyes and murmurs, “Yoongi. I can almost feel him.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“Put them in the jar,” Borgia huffs, kicking the glass bottle closer to where he kneels. His hands are a mess, bloodied and aching, as he grabs the jar and begins to stuff the crustaceans he managed to pry from the rock.

Sweat is pouring down his neck and soaking his shirt. The last change to the bond is making it so hard to hold back. Jimin. He has barely thought of him since he’s been captive, lest he falls into a bottomless pit of despair. Yoongi can feel them, all three of his best friends, glittering like an oasis in the desert on the other side of the mental wall he’s erected within himself.

He aches to drop the wall and reach out to embrace the warmth it offers. But he’s not sure what will happen if he does. The bonds are faint, incomplete—just a tease at this point. Yoongi grits his teeth, shoving the last of the sea creatures into the jar before staggering to his feet and holding it out to Borgia. She gestures wildly down the coast, a silent command for Yoongi to walk. He clutches the jar to his chest, takes a step forward, and once again finds himself with his unfocused gaze staring into familiar turquoise eyes and the faint taste of chamomile on his tongue.

🌸🌸🌸

“He’s there. I know he is. Why isn’t he letting us in?” Jungkook presses a hand to his chest, a look of confusion on his face.

“The bond is not yet complete. That could be holding him back,” Namjoon suggests. His breathing is a bit ragged as he works to unwind the necklace from around your and Jimin’s hands. “There is so much power.”

You can feel him now. Yoongi is there, a muted presence, but you feel him more prominently than you have the whole time he’s been gone. The taste of salt lingers on your lips, and for some reason, the tips of your fingers ache with phantom pains. “He knows,” you whisper, licking your lips and savoring the tangy flavor that shouldn’t be there. “I can feel him.”

“Whoa,” Jimin gasps, pulling you closer. His eyes bore into yours. “Your eyes, they—they are his. Oh, Yoongi.” Before you know it, Jimin’s lips are pressed to yours. The touch ignites something in you. You lean into the kiss, letting Jimin slide his tongue between your lips. “You taste the way he does, like the darkness just before dawn and morning dew,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling away to catch his breath.

Gentle fingers brush across the back of your neck, eliciting goosebumps down your spine. “You smell even more divine than before. Is it because of the bond?” Namjoon audibly swallows, the sound quivering his breath as he exhales. “Perhaps we should go inside.”

All you can do is nod. The force of three new bonds is far more intense than one, each playing off the need of the next. As you follow them back into the house, you can feel moisture already gathering between your thighs. Namjoon leads the way, his broad shoulders seeming even more expansive now that you’re looking at him through a bond haze.

Jungkook has been uncharacteristically quiet since he questioned why Yoongi wasn’t letting them in. You put a hand on his arm to draw his attention. “You okay?”

“What? Me? Oh, yeah, I’m more than okay.” That boyish grin you first saw all those nights ago at Bowhill House settles on his lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug. “You don’t even know my name.”

His eyes flick to yours. “Sure I do. You’re Beautiful.”

“I mean my real name,” you laugh. Namjoon pushes open the door to the bedroom, and you continue in behind Jungkook.

Jimin shrugs off his overcoat and tosses it on a wooden chair in the corner. “We do not need to know your real name for this to be what we want. At least, that is how it is for me. And if I am being even more honest, I do not want to know your name until you are ready to give it, and even then, I want Yoongi to know it first. He deserves that more than we do, but only when you are ready for that…if you ever are. We are all perfectly content with calling you Beautiful, as that is exactly what and who you are.”

“He’s right,” Jungkook agrees. “Now, quit stalling and get on the bed.”

“Excuse me?” you ask with an awkward laugh.

Jungkook pokes at the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I said get on the bed. Now.”

“Hold up a minute, I don’t thin—“

His chest is against yours in the next instant. He steps forward, forcing you back until your thighs knock into the edge of the bed. “Seeing as how I am the only cock in this room that has any experience with pussy, I think it would be best if I called the shots. Besides, I like being in charge.” He emphasizes that statement with a gentle push to your shoulders, easing you back onto the bed.

You glance at Namjoon and Jimin. Their eyes are locked on Jungkook, watching his every move as he slowly begins to relieve you of the clothing you put on only hours ago. The buttons on your blouse pop open quickly under his deft fingers, exposing your bare breasts to the heat of the room and their gazes.

Being bold, Namjoon steps forward and perches on the bed beside you. “Are they as soft as they look?”

“It’s okay to touch,” you tell him before giving Jimin a look that means those words are for him, too.

Your boots come off next. One at a time, they thump onto the floor, discarded by Jungkook. His fingers tickle along the arch of your foot, making you squirm. You open your mouth to tell Jungkook to stop, but Namjoon’s fingers pinching one of your nipples steals your attention.

“Touch her, Jimin. I know you want to. Stop resisting.” Jungkook smirks as he trails his hands up your legs until he gets to the fastening on your pants.

Jimin reaches out a tentative hand and cups your other breast, squeezing lightly. You both shudder from the contact. “I can feel you feeling me,” Jimin observes, experimenting by flicking his thumb over your nipple until it pebbles tightly.

Your body jerks as Jungkook tugs your pants down over your hips. Namjoon sits up a little straighter. He cocks his head to the side, sliding his hand down from your breast to splay across your stomach.

“What you’re looking for is the clit,” Jungkook casually tells Namjoon. “Listen to the sounds she makes. Watch her reactions. You’ll know when you find it.”

“Why am I the only one naked?” you huff, biting your bottom lip as Jimin continues teasing your nipples, and Namjoon’s hand moves lower. Your pants hit the floor, Jungkook finally getting them down your legs. He stands back, looking smug as he watches Namjoon’s hand intently.

It’s a soft touch at first, the way Namjoon’s fingers sweep over your skin. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as he becomes more confident with his exploring. Jimin leans in and captures your next exhale, breathing you in before devouring your mouth in a brutal kiss. He follows you down as you lose the will to continue sitting upright. Hands trace over your knees before firmly pushing them open, exposing your throbbing core.

You track Namjoon’s fingers, letting your body and the bond guide your sight even behind closed lids. You’re distinctly aware that it’s Jungkook’s hands on your knees. The sound of Namjoon’s sharp inhale when he finally slides a finger through your wetness, mixed with the sensation of it, has you moaning into Jimin’s mouth.

“Listen to her moan for you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dark and throaty.

Namjoon drags his finger through your arousal again, eliciting another moan from you. Jimin breaks away from the kiss, panting against your cheek before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. He alternates with tongue and teeth, leaving playful marks in his wake. “Kiss her when you do that, Namjoon,” Jimin stops his kissing to murmur into your skin. “It is exhilarating feeling the vibrations of her moans.”

“Take off your clothes first, lover boy,” Jungkook suggests, the words hooked on a groan he tries to hide. “I have a feeling once you start, you won’t be able to stop.” His hands are still on your knees, and without looking, you can tell he’s staring at where your arousal is beginning to drip out and down your ass. You can feel his penetrating stare, the way he’s holding back his desire so Namjoon and Jimin can enjoy themselves before he does.

The finger that was tracing circles around your clit disappears. Your eyes flutter open, intent on getting your first real glimpse at Namjoon’s body as he begins to slip out of his clothes. He’s always worn neutral earth tones that compliment his easy-going demeanor. The fact he’s hiding such a beautiful body under so many layers of linen should be marked down as a cardinal sin.

His eyes meet yours as his shirt hits the floor, and his thumbs hook into the waistband of his pants. With teasing slowness, he slides them down inch by inch until they come loose around his knees and fall to puddle around his feet. Namjoon is as glorious naked as he is kind in spirit. You’re utterly at a loss for words, so you just reach out a hand to him in offering.

Jimin leans back, propped up on an elbow, as he watches Namjoon take your hand, and you guide him up onto the bed. The bed dips, and Jimin scoots back a little to allow your legs to open further as Namjoon kneels between them.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks you, his eyes searching yours for assurance.

The bed shifts as Jungkook settles above you. He holds up a single white, dusty petal. You automatically open your mouth and stick out your tongue to receive the Silver Ward, internally grateful someone thought to grab it. The creamy taste of the flower petal melts in your mouth. In response to Namjoon, you grip a handful of his hair and pull him down, guiding his mouth to yours.

The scent of pine blooms heavily around you, and the taste of orange floods your mouth. Namjoon tastes and smells as sweet and comforting as you thought he would. With your other hand, you work it between your bodies until your fingers graze along his erection. He shudders, stomach clenching as his hips jerk forward.

“Easy,” you whisper between kisses. “Nice and slow.” His velvety skin is warm and smooth as you slide your hand along his length, marveling at the amount of sticky wetness already seeping out from the tip.

“Seven Suns!” Namjoon curses, his lips popping off of yours as you shift your hips up, and the head of his cock presses into your wetness. His eyes widen as your other hand lands on his hip, encouraging him to thrust forward. Inch by inch, he fills you until you’re both writhing, and he’s all the way inside. “It feels—it feels, I do not…the words…” he trails off, jaw going slack as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in.

“Good pussy is supposed to make you speechless,” Jungkook comments slyly. “Now, make her cum like a good mate.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

His steps falter as his body locks up, rocketing through a sensation he hasn’t felt since the night he bonded with you. Alarmed, he holds the jar of barnacles over his crotch and quickly continues walking before Borgia can bark at him for stopping.

Pine and orange blossoms. The scent is so intense, Yoongi could almost believe he was somewhere deep in a spring orchard instead of walking along the rocky coastline of the Unseelie Court. You have fully bonded with Namjoon. The idea that his best friend just made love to his mate doesn’t phase him. He welcomes the additional feeling of Namjoon in the bond. Though, what is most surprising is the energy Yoongi now feels. His exhaustion is waning, and the ache in his head lessening.

🌸🌸🌸

Namjoon pants heavily into your neck, his body still quivering on top of yours. You can feel his cock still pulsing, filling you with thick jets of cum. The orgasm tore through you and ripped right down the bond connected to Yoongi. You hadn’t even considered that could happen. But, as you recover from the post-orgasm haze, you realize the foggy wall separating you from Yoongi has depleted significantly.

That revelation excites you. “I think it’s working,” you say breathlessly. “Namjoon, do you feel him?”

Pushing up on trembling arms, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you, sitting back on his heels. His cock is still hard, jutting up against his stomach and smearing your combined releases across his skin. “I do.” There is evident amazement in Namjoon’s voice, his face splitting with a huge smile. “It is beyond what I imagined. I can feel him, just as I can feel you.”

Your body kicks back into overdrive, reminding you there are two bonds you’ve yet to complete. “I should clean up.” You sit up to slide around Namjoon, but a hand on your shoulder pulls you back.

“If you think Namjoon’s cum will stop me from fucking you, you are mistaken.” Such dirty words coming from Jimin’s sweet mouth have you moaning softly. He’s almost possessive in how he grabs your ankles and pulls you over on top of himself. You straddle his stomach; hands pressed against his chest for support. “Claim me. Mark me as yours,” he demands.

You shift back, feeling his hard length slide between your thighs until it pops out and slaps against his stomach. Jimin grunts, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, prominent canines—making you think so much of Yoongi’s—indenting the plush flesh. Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you give it a firm squeeze, watching as a bead of pre-cum oozes out.

You can feel Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s eyes on you as you lean forward and flick your tongue over the tip of Jimin’s cock, collecting the glistening moisture. The taste alone makes you moan, like the best blend of warm spices you’ve ever had. It complements the clove of Yoongi and the orange of Namjoon so well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans. You glance at him, smirking before swirling your tongue around Jimin’s head. All three moan then, Jimin’s hips bucking up and pressing his cock more firmly against your tongue.

“I will not last if you keep doing that,” he whines beautifully.

Sitting up straight, you keep your hand wrapped around his cock and adjust your hips until you hover over him. “Look at me,” you tell him. Those turquoise eyes lock onto yours. The rapture that takes over Jimin’s face as you begin to lower yourself onto him is something that will be ingrained in your memory forever.

He stretches you perfectly. Despite having just been filled with Namjoon, your body needs a moment to adjust. You begin to move, rocking slowly until Jimin starts to rock his hips to go deeper.

“Play with her nipples,” Namjoon suggests.

Taking the direction, Jimin captures one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently. You throw your head back, moaning loudly. Encouraged by your reaction, he does it again. “Jimin!” you cry his name, undulating your hips in a way that has the head of his cock rubbing all the right places.

He stiffens under you when you cry out his name, growing impossibly harder. “When you say my name like that, it does something to me. Seven Suns, say it again!” he begs.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” you string together his name like a prayer, repeating it with each thrust until you’re nearly sobbing his name, begging for relief yourself.

You hadn’t realized Jungkook moved to kneel behind you, only becoming aware of him when one of his hands slides around your hip and his thumb presses against your clit. “Make him cum, Beautiful. Claim that cock as yours.”

The sensation of Jimin tweaking your nipple and Jungkook rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit has your next orgasm careening through you. Black dots spot your vision, your body pulsing around Jimin and encouraging his release. His mouth opens in a silent cry, head thrown back against the mattress.

Before you have time to register what’s happening, Jungkook grabs your hips and pulls them up. You fall forward, landing on Jimin as your ass goes into the air. “Ju-jungkook, wha—OH!” you moan, sucking in a breath and trying to orient yourself.

Heedless of the cum dripping out of you and Jimin’s hard cock just inches away, Jungkook shoves down the front of his trousers and pushes into you in one swift motion. “If I had to watch anymore, I was going to cum in my pants, and well, that would be a waste of a perfectly good bonding orgasm.”

You mewl from the overstimulation, fingers scrabbling over Jimin’s shoulders, searching for purchase to keep yourself from sliding forward. Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he sets a relentless, pounding pace.

“He is like an animal,” Namjoon muses, though clearly being turned on by the display. He fists a hand around his own erection. “Do you feel it, Jimin?”

Jimin just grunts, wrapping his arms around your back to help hold you in place. You meet his eyes, watching the swirl of emotions in their oceany depths. “Let go, Beautiful. Give in to it,” he whispers, his lips brushing over yours with each word.

You do. You give in and open yourself to Jungkook. Jungkook’s hips stutter against your ass as your body commands his, drawing forth his orgasm to crest with yours. The final bond slams into place, exploding through your body with pleasure and intensity.

For a moment, you’re shuffling along a desolate shoreline. The moon is high overhead, the ocean screaming as it throws itself against the bluffs a hundred feet below you. “Where am I?”

“What did you say, boy?”

You jerk around, startled by the voice, and meet a wicked set of yellowed eyes that instantly go wide with understanding.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

He was ready the second time you accepted a bond, silently rejoicing in being connected to Jimin. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he kept his face forward so Borgia wouldn’t grow suspicious. The third bond came so quickly after the second that he let his hold slip. Those terrifying moments when he watched as you looked through his eyes, spoke with his mouth…

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, throwing the jar of barnacles as hard as he can at Borgia’s face. The glass smacks her in the mouth, shattering. Shards of glass rain down on the rocks at her feet as she screams.

Opening himself to the full power of the bond nearly sweeps Yoongi off his feet. It barrels through him, and he has to step back to keep his balance. Focusing on his strength, Yoongi pulls against the cuffs around his wrists as hard as possible. They are iron, but the strongest Fey magick has been known to break it.

Borgia swipes a hand over her mouth, trying to dislodge errant pieces of glass. “You stupid, stupid worm! I do not care what Chaddick wants. I will see you in pieces before the night is over!”

She lunges at him, hands hooked like claws, aiming for his face. Yoongi grunts, ignoring the bite of iron ripping into his skin as the shackles groan and creak from his efforts. He might not know how to control his power fully, but with the additional potency from the bond now, he only needs a small amount to make a big difference.

The cuff on his right wrist snaps, the iron pieces crumpling in his hand. As Borgia collides with him, he brings up that mangled piece of iron and drives it down as hard as he can into her back. Her fingers dig into his cheeks, the nails slicing through his flesh, but he forces his hand down harder. Yoongi feels the metal pierce her skin and grind against the vertebra in her spine.

“You may not care what he wants, but you should care about what I want!” Yoongi snarls, jerking his hand from side to side to do as much damage as possible. “Your life, you foul bitch! I hope you rot!”

Borgia spasms, her legs jerking wildly as her hands slide down his face. She gives one last snap of her teeth in his face before her body lists to the side and thumps solidly against the ground. A wet cackle bubbles past her lips, her eyes darting up to him. “You are a f-fool if you think he will not find y-you again.”

“You will be lucky if anyone finds you,” Yoongi sneers, crouching down and promptly giving her limp body a push. She rolls, her arms and legs flopping with each turn before disappearing over the edge.

Yoongi stands there momentarily, contemplating the likelihood he could make it to the castle and get his mother out undetected, before deciding against that plan and turning west to begin picking his way across the uneven ground—letting the bond lead him home to you and the three males that mean the most to him in his life. With Borgia gone, Chaddick’s deception will be swift to crumble. His mother will be safe enough, protected by the lies that have kept him away all these years. He only saw her a few times during his time of capture but never was able to get close enough to talk to her. As he twists off the remaining cuff from his left wrist, he wonders if everyone in the castle will be able to feel his increase in magick. That also might mean Chaddick can feel him, too—all the more reason for Yoongi to get home as soon as possible.

He begins to run.

🌸🌸🌸

Everyone is milling along the edge of the meadow surrounding the house. Namjoon increased the radius of the ward, pushing it out to where it used to be, where you’re all now standing.

Jungkook is pacing, his feet kicking in frustration through the ankle-high grass. “We should go find him,” he grumbles for at least the fifth time.

“Be patient,” you insist. “He’s close, but so is that patrol that went by earlier. The last thing we need is multiple bodies out there making noise or accidentally running across the wrong trail and putting them on our scent.”

You can feel the irritation coming from Jungkook, he knows you’re right, but that doesn’t mean he won’t press your buttons. That’s something he’s becoming increasingly good at over the last forty-eight hours.

Once the bond was completed, everyone could feel Yoongi with stark clarity. You felt the moment he drew their magick through you and used it in bursts and fits of strength. Even now, he’s drawing on it to propel himself forward faster through the woods of the Hollow Lands. With each breath you take, you can feel him moving closer.

A noise catches your attention, drawing your eyes to the tree line. There is movement a few yards in. You can see and hear at greater distances, far more than you could days ago. Adding three bonds has seemingly kicked your transformation into high gear.

Finally, you see him. Yoongi peeks out from around a tree. His eyes scan the immediate area, checking for any sign of threats before he takes off in a sprint, coming right for you. He may not be able to see you through the ward, but you know he can feel you.

“Faster,” Jimin urges in a frantic whisper.

As Yoongi draws closer, you have to suppress the urge to scream. He looks barely alive. His clothes are ripped and tattered, hanging loosely from his thin frame. His weight has dropped considerably; his shoulders and collarbone stand out in high contrast through the thin material of his shirt. Angry red rings circle his wrists, and his lips are bruised and cracked.

You open your arms, prepared to grab him as soon as he stumbles through the barrier of the ward. He slumps into your arms, and you nearly drop him, but thankfully Jungkook is there and catches you both.

“Seven Hells,” Yoongi rasps, clutching at your shirt. His eyes flutter, trying to focus on your face before they roll back in his head, and he goes limp in your hold.

Jimin keens in distress, quickly sweeping up Yoongi’s legs. Jungkook takes over for you, holding Yoongi’s torso, and he and Jimin begin to carry him toward the house.

As soon as Yoongi’s eyes rolled back, you felt the bond connected to him shiver and pulse weakly before dropping to a low hum in your chest. “Namjoon,” you say more as a plea than anything. The nymph pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you as you watch Jimin and Jungkook work their way up the porch stairs with Yoongi slung between them.

“All will be well, Beautiful. Come, let us go help our mate.” Namjoon ushers you across the yard and into the house, where Yoongi is laid out on the dining table, much like you and Jungkook were. You’re not sure if you can appreciate the irony or not.

The fact Namjoon called Yoongi our mate still resonates with you as you pick up one of Yoongi’s hands, clutching it in your own.

“Namjoon, you know best. What can we do?” Jimin asks as he rips the tattered remains of Yoongi’s shirt off. Yoongi’s chest is like a macabre version of a Klein painting, blue and black with bruises and dried blood.

Namjoon moves around to stand at Yoongi’s head and places a hand on his forehead. “He is burning up. A fever. Most likely infection from the iron that was around his wrist. Exhaustion, certainly. He did not stop running the whole way here, meaning he made a nearly three-day trip in less than two. I think what he needs right now is some rest and an infusion of vitamins, nutrients, and something for the infection.”

Jungkook finishes taking off Yoongi’s pants. “Beautiful, want to help me get him cleaned up?”

You startle, tearing your eyes away from staring at the myriad of discoloration covering Yoongi’s body. “Yes. Yes, of course.” You gently set Yoongi’s hand back down on the table and follow Jungkook into the bathroom to retrieve towels and a cleansing bar.

“He’s strong. He’ll be okay.” Jungkook moves back to the dining table, setting the supplies down. “I’ve seen Yoongi in a worse state than this.”

“Worse than this?” You can’t imagine that.

Jimin looks longingly at Yoongi before pressing a quick kiss to his forehead and follows Namjoon outside to collect everything needed for the infusion.

Filling a bowl with warm water from the solar tank by the sink in the kitchen, Jungkook sighs. “Yeah. Hard to believe, but when we first escaped from the Unseelie Court, the first few weeks were not kind to us at all.”

“What happened?” You dip a cloth into the warm water and begin to gently clean the various cuts and wounds littering Yoongi’s body.

“I remember being woken up by Yoongi tipping my bed onto its side. I was spitting mad, cursing at him, and yelling until I saw that he was covered in blood from head to toe. I still can’t recall the exact words he said to me, but I didn’t need to hear them. I just knew I had to follow him, do whatever I could to protect him from whatever was happening.” Jungkook works diligently with tender touches, careful not to jostle Yoongi too much. “My bed was in the royal barracks, but thankfully in one of the outer wings. I don’t know that we could have slipped out had my bed been somewhere deeper in. We managed to slip out through an unmanned postern gate.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook and feeling your appreciation and affection for him grow with every word. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Jungkook snorts and shakes his head. “I was a shit friend most of the time, especially in the beginning. Mad that he wouldn’t tell me everything that happened and then horrified when he finally did. What Chaddick did to his brother, right in front of Yoongi’s eyes…that’s not something you can move on from easily. Yoongi was in a bad place for a long time. He barely ate anything unless Namjoon or I forced him to.”

“I’m glad he got better.”

“All thanks to Jimin. It wasn’t until Jimin finally made it into the clearing—once the immediate danger had passed—that Yoongi got some life back into him.”

You let that thought soak for a while, ruminating and sitting with it while you and Jungkook finish cleaning Yoongi up and wrapping him in a blanket. When Jimin and Namjoon come back in, their arms ladened with baskets from the garden, they agree to move Yoongi to the bed to afford him the best chance at resting comfortably.

“Beautiful, there is a ceramic bowl above the kitchen sink and a mortar and pestle. Do you mind bringing them to me?” Namjoon asks as he and Jimin begin to sort the things in the baskets on the bed.

The bowl and tools are easy to find. You pull them down and take them to Namjoon. “Is this something he will need to ingest?”

“Not necessarily. Much like the poultice I made to help heal your side, this works through dermal absorption. It can be ingested, but it more or less works the same either way. Though, it can be a bit vile tasting, so through the skin is best in my opinion,” Namjoon explains as he begins to crush different sprigs of greenery and colorful petals with the pestle.

He continues to work in silence under the watchful eyes of Jimin and Jungkook. You spend most of your time staring at Yoongi, watching his chest's shallow rise and fall. His silvery hair is longer, greasy, and disheveled, but he’s still no less handsome than before.

Jimin holds out a small glass tube with a cork stopper to you. “For his lips. It is a moisturizing oil that he favors. Just a drop will do.”

You unstopper the glass and press your finger over the opening, upending the tube quickly before righting it again. A small drop of oil sits on the pad of your finger. It smells like honeysuckle. You gently rub the oil across Yoongi’s lips, being extra careful around the swollen split on the right side.

When Namjoon is done mixing the infusion, he begins to rub it into any exposed skin methodically. Jungkook pulls the blanket back, giving Namjoon access to Yoongi’s legs and stomach. The mixture smells like bitter greens with the faintest hint of mint.

“And now we just wait?” you ask when he’s done.

“Unfortunately, that is all we can do for now. He needs to rest. His magick, the bond, and the infusion will do the rest.” Namjoon gathers the empty baskets and the used tools with Jungkook’s help. “We will be outside. You two should get some rest, too. Call if you need anything.” He presses a brief kiss to your forehead before starting for the door.

Jungkook blows you a kiss over his shoulder, giving you a look before he disappears behind Namjoon. It was a look of contentment, assurance that everything would be okay. You’re grateful for their optimism and support.

“I will go as well,” Jimin murmurs, a forlorn expression on his face as he begins toward the door.

“Jimin, no, wait. Please stay.” You settle on the bed beside Yoongi and hold a hand out to Jimin. “He would want you here when he wakes up.”

“But you are his mate,” Jimin murmurs and purses his lips. You can tell he’s hesitating.

“And you are my mate…but most importantly, you are his love. Now, get your ass over here, or I’ll be forced to make you.” You raise your eyebrows, daring him to argue.

Jimin’s lips quirk in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.” He kicks off his shoes before climbing onto the bed on your other side. The uncertainty in his touch is gone as he presses up against your back, draping his arm over your side so his hand rests on Yoongi’s chest. Your cheek rests against Yoongi’s shoulder, and your eyes slide closed as you sigh and relax into Jimin’s hold.

Bonding with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon is something you will never regret. Not only did it help bring Yoongi home, but it also has broken down every barrier ever erected between you. The connections to Namjoon and Jungkook hum with potent vitality, letting you know they are drawing on small measures of their magick—probably working in the garden.

“Jimin?”

“Yes, Beautiful?” he murmurs against your neck, his voice soft and sleepy.

“Will you take me to see the Seelie Court someday?”

Jimin shifts behind you, pressing even closer. His lips tickle the back of your neck as he speaks. “Of course, you are my mate. You belong by my side.” The words are breathy, half coherent as he fights the pull of sleep—but you hear them clearly, right down to your soul.

The blanket shifts, almost drawing you out of your half-sleep. Lips brush over yours, making you hum. “Jimin,” you breathe as another kiss presses against your lips. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not Jimin.” Your eyes snap open and meet those green and gold ones you have dreamt of nearly every night. Yoongi presses his lips to yours again, his tongue teasing along the seam. You automatically open for him and can’t help the moan as his alluring clove scent floods your senses.

You pull back, but Yoongi follows, reconnecting your lips in a desperate kiss. “Yoongi,” you try for firm, but his name comes out more like a needy mewl than anything.

“Please do not stop me. I need you.” He pleads between kisses. Yoongi shifts more, rolling onto his side. The movement dislodges Jimin’s hand, jolting him from sleep.

“Y-yoongi?” Jimin murmurs. “What—wow, okay.” Jimin presses a hand against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Slow down, Yoons. We will take care of you.”

The grunt of frustration that comes from Yoongi is cute. He reluctantly pulls back, breaking the kiss and letting Jimin push him onto his back. “Mini, my love,” Yoongi whispers like he’s finally registering who has their hands on him.

“Just relax,” you coo, smoothing a hand across Yoongi’s forehead and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Tell us what you need.”

“I need to feel you,” he states, reaching for you again. You let him draw you in, the bond blooming tenfold as you give in. His hand reaches out, searching until Jimin grabs it. “I thought all was lost.” The words are whispered fervently against your lips. “Never again.” Yoongi breaks away from the kiss to pull Jimin in. You sit back and watch as they come together, their lips molding and moving with familiarity.

The bond pushes and pulls in an all-consuming way. After you were bonded with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon, you spent the rest of the night in the throws of passion, much like the night you bonded with Yoongi. It’s a visceral thing, a baser instinct that is in control. They each watched as you pleasured and received pleasure in turn but never went so far as to touch each other. So, seeing Jimin and Yoongi get lost in the feel of one another brings a new sensation to your body—one that has you squeezing your thighs together and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Beautiful,” Jimin catches your attention. He presses light kisses across Yoongi’s chest, his half-lidded gaze sliding to you. “Suck his cock and remind him who he belongs to.”

Yoongi groans. “Yes. Please,” he begs. “I need to feel your mouth on me.”

You sit up on your knees, working with Jimin to shove the blankets back. Yoongi’s body is no longer a patchwork of colors. His skin is now smooth and blemish free like before. Kneeling between Yoongi’s thighs, you marvel at him and the wonder of the infusion Namjoon made.

Before you can give any attention to Yoongi’s straining erection, Jimin catches your chin with a finger and slowly brings your lips to his. He tastes faintly of chamomile and clove, a taste combination you will never grow tired of. All that’s missing is orange and coconut. At the thought of Namjoon and Jungkook, you feel the tethers of their bonds pinch with barely concealed amusement. They know Yoongi is awake and are very aware of the state he’s in—that all three of you are in.

“Be good for Yoongi, little mate, and I will give you your own reward,” Jimin promises with an encouraging smack to your ass.

You need little encouragement. Leaning forward with your eyes locked on Yoongi’s, you run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, earning a guttural moan from him. “No teasing,” he whimpers.

The look on his face is desperate, tugging at your heart. Wrapping a hand around him, you swirl your tongue around the head a few times before taking him into your mouth. His pre-cum is sweet, driving you to seek more. You take him as far as possible, letting your throat convulse around him with the intrusion.

“Perfect,” Jimin says. “You are so perfect.” You can’t tell if he’s talking about you or Yoongi, but either way, the praise makes you moan around Yoongi’s cock. “You like that?” He punctuates his question with a tug on your pants, working them down over your ass until they’re caught mid-thigh. “I think you do.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he runs a finger between your thighs, delighting in the sticky moisture he finds.

You work over Yoongi, using your hand to squeeze and pulse in time with the suction from your tongue and lips. Yoongi throws his head back and curses when Jimin’s cock pushes into you. “Oh, Jimin!” All three of you shudder, overwhelmed by feeling each other physically and through the bonds.

The tightness in your lower belly increases with each thrust from Jimin and moans from Yoongi. “Make him cum, Beautiful. Do it.”

Yoongi jerks under you as you take your other hand and cup his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. He moans, his whole body going rigid as the first gush of cum hits your tongue. Jimin’s hips crash into your ass as he follows Yoongi over the edge. The feeling of Jimin pulsing inside of you triggers your own release. You hungrily swallow down all Yoongi gives you, licking him clean between shaky breaths as your body just as eagerly milks everything it can from Jimin.

“Holy fuck,” you pant. Your whole body feels like jello, trembling as Jimin helps you lay back down beside Yoongi. Your pants are still around your thighs. You can’t be bothered to fix them yet.

Jimin stands up from the bed. His half-hard cock glistens in the light coming in through the crack in the curtains over the window. “Are you okay?” he asks Yoongi as he delicately tucks himself away and does up the laces on the front of his pants.

“Much better now,” Yoongi sighs with contentment. “I apologize for my behavior. I was away from you for too long. There was something inside of me, some pent-up possessiveness…When I awoke, I could think of little else besides claiming you in any way I could.”

“You should never apologize for that,” you assure him. “Are you well enough to tell us what happened? What do we need to do? Is everything okay in the Unseelie Court?”

Yoongi holds up his hand, slowing down your questions. “Peace, my mate. I feel well enough to tell you all what happened. Let us begin there.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

His best friend. His claimed brother. His lover.

Mates to his mate.

She looks so radiant sitting among them, arrayed as they are around the table in front of him. They insisted he sit in the rocking chair to continue resting as much as possible. Jungkook drags the chair closer to the table, fluffing the pillows in the seat and draping a blanket over his knees.

“First, I would like to leave for the Unseelie Court once we finish this conversation. The sooner we arrive, the better. When I escaped, Chaddick was supposedly overseeing a command change within the border guard.” Yoongi shifts in his seat, adjusting the blanket in his lap. “By now, I imagine he is aware of Borgia’s death—“

“How did you kill her?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a knowing smile. “Iron through the spinal cord, pushed her limp body over the cliffs along Tidal Bluff.”

Jungkook whistles appreciatively. “Damn. I wish I could have seen that. Good riddance.”

“I was able to confirm that it was through some of her dark magick enchantments and glamors that Chaddick has been able to lie and deceive openly. They”—he pauses and takes a deep breath—” they had been working on experiments. Ones that would allow him to take the magick of another Fey through their death. The first attempt was when he murdered my father. Apparently, Father learned about Chaddick having Borgia try it out on lesser Fey—pixies and dryads from the eastern regions. It is what started everything. Now that Borgia is dead, the truth will reveal itself as the glamor and magick begins to fade.”

Namjoon leans into your side, something that greatly warms Yoongi on the inside. “Good riddance indeed.”

Jimin clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention. “Well, Yoongi, my love, are you ready to take back your court and greet your people?”

🌸🌸🌸

The journey to the Unseelie Court takes two full days of continuous walking. Approaching the border had you on the verge of panicking, thinking back to the last time you crossed it. But there isn’t a single guard in sight. In fact, you haven’t seen a single other being, other than the occasional woodland creature, since leaving Namjoon’s glade.

“Where is everyone?”

You stand beside Jungkook, his hand tucked into yours, staring up at the vacant battlements along the curtain wall surrounding the castle of the Unseelie Court. The portcullis is up, leading directly into the equally as empty inner ward.

“I do not know. Keep your wits about you,” Yoongi says softly before leading your small group under the barbican and through the front gate.

There is an eerie feeling, standing in the middle of the ward, and the only sound you hear is the breathing of your mates and the crunch of their boots on the pavers. “Something isn’t right,” you say, your voice sounding too loud in your own ears.

“I can still feel the taint of darkness covering the grounds. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” Namjoon agrees with your assessment.

You notice a few broken pieces of furniture scattered around the inner walls like it was tossed from windows and balconies above to shatter in the courtyard. Spots of color peek out from the around the furniture. Children's toys and trinkets litter the walkways between the turrets like they were hurriedly abandoned. It’s unsettling. It feels like a tomb; you hope that isn’t some ridiculous foreshadowing. As much as you love a good plot twist, you’ve had just about enough of them lately.

Movement from one of the upper doorways of a balcony draws your attention. You gesture up to where you see another flash of movement. “Yoongi, look.”

“Yoongi, is that you?” calls a soft voice from the balcony. The door opens, revealing a handsome woman with silver hair piled on her head and familiar green-gold eyes. She’s wearing a midnight blue gown, the line of the bodice embroidered with silver stars.

“Mother!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Oh, my boy!” she cries, disappearing back through the doorway in a flurry of skirts. “Yoongi!” You can hear her calling his name from within the castle. It echoes down and through the main hall, where the door is propped open.

By the time Yoongi reaches the entrance, she’s barreling through it. Her loud cries shake her whole body as she clings to Yoongi. “Mother, peace, please. Be calm. I am home.” You can hear the choked emotion in his words as he tries to soothe her, but more prominently, you can feel his flood of emotions through the bond. It nearly buckles your knees.

Jimin cups your elbow, steadying you as you sway on your feet. “Use our strength,” he murmurs into your ear. With a calming breath, you reach out to the other three bonds, letting them stem the tide from Yoongi, each sharing in his sorrow, pain, and joy.

“What has happened here, Mother? Where is everyone?” Yoongi finally pulls away but keeps his hands braced on his mother’s shoulders. Her eyes flick around, taking in the rest of your group.

“Jungkook? Jimin? Seven Hells, what are you two doing here? And a woodland nymph?” Her eyes find yours, and she stiffens. “And her—she, is that—“

“Mother, please, I will explain it all. But, first, what is happening here?”

She gestures vaguely over her shoulder toward the castle. “Chaddick—something went wrong. He flew in on that damned serpent of his and began screaming about how you escaped. I did not know if it was true, but I prayed it was. I tried to rally The Guard, but they would not listen to me. He fled, taking them all with him! Hundreds of Unseelie–everyone from the castle–they emptied the armory and the coffers. I am only glad they left the city alone. I have not yet had the heart to tell our people. They do not know what has happened within the walls, only that the guard marched out the gate.” Her face darkens with anger. “I watched them move south from the parapet. I sent word to the Seelie Court as soon as I could. What did you do? How did you escape? Who is this human?”

He fled to the south. Chaddick is gone. You can feel the disappointment and anger radiating off of Yoongi. “I escaped by killing Borgia. Her body is surely rotting at the bottom of the Lunar Sea by now. The truth will be revealed now. Her glamour died with her. That is what sent Chaddick into a panic. He knows it is over for him. His plans for taking over the Unseelie Court are ruined.” Yoongi takes a step back, letting his hands drop from her shoulders. “As for the woodland nymph, Mother, let me introduce you to one of my best friends who has helped save my life over the last ten years. If it were not for Namjoon offering me sanctuary in his home in the Hollow Lands, I would have had no place to hide. Jimin and Jungkook have been with me every step of the way, guiding me and reminding me to keep fighting. They were the ones that helped me find a way to access my power—all of my power. They brought me her.” He gestures to you. “My mate.”

“I see,” she says, giving you a strained smile. It’s polite but not warm. “Come inside. Tell me everything.”

The inside of the castle belongs in one of your grandpa’s stories. Soaring ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers and halls that extend into darkness, lined with life-sized family portraits spanning generations. If it weren’t for the haunted feeling from being so empty, you would be far more intrigued with what you pass as you follow along with Yoongi holding one hand and Jimin holding the other.

You stand with Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon just behind Yoongi, who is at the base of a dias where his mother sits on her throne—the only place she says doesn’t feel like it has darkness still clinging to it. It takes Yoongi nearly an hour to recount everything for his mom. He leaves out very few details, stopping to answer her questions whenever she asks them.

“It was Jimin’s idea that I try to find a human mate. We knew the possibilities, the potential for access to more power. It was figured that if I could access my inner well and wield more of my power safely, I could use it to defeat Chaddick. At first, that was all I wanted. I did not care who it was or whether or not they stayed after giving me what I needed. But she made me realize that I did care, and even though our time together has not been long, she means more to me than I have the words to express. Someone could argue it is only the bond causing me to feel this way, but I can speak plainly that it is not. Her tenacity and spirit intrigued me before we said our vows. The moment she opened her mouth and cursed at me, I yearned for her fire. She is my reason for breathing, what pushed me to beat Borgia and finally free our people from Chaddick’s control.”

Yoongi’s mother slowly stands up from her seat, her sapphire gown rustling over the stone steps as she comes down to stand before you. “My dear,” emotion and tears choke her words. “I did not mean to judge you. I had always imagined my boys–my boy, finding a mate whom he loved. His love for you is clear regardless of how you found yourself in his life.” She clears her throat, blinking away the emotion in her eyes. “Would it—is it okay if I hug you?”

You laugh, nodding enthusiastically as tears threaten to spill down your own cheeks. She wraps her arms around you, squeezing and whispering her thanks over and over again. When she finally steps back, Yoongi takes her place, burying his face in your neck. You feel three other bodies press in around you, cocooning you in safety and comfort.

Leaning back, his green and gold-flecked eyes meet yours. “Welcome to my home, Beautiful. The home you helped save. You may have it if you wish. You deserve it. Or I will build you your own if you want it. Just stay. Please, stay with us,” he says. Even with darkness brewing to the south, the bond floods with hope, filling you to the brim with possibilities.

“All of us together?” “Forever,” comes three very enthusiastic answers, though they can’t entirely hide the tiny grain of worry underneath it all. You know as long as Chaddick is alive, regardless of how far he runs, none of your mates will be truly safe.

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thearmyprof · 9 months

Text

Dirt Dance Floor Again

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Jimin

Word count: 31,20

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Non-Idol!AU, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempt Non-Con

Summary: Jimin's friend convince him to go with them to the underground, invite-only pop-up club that happens every couple of months. While he doesn't love being around so many fae, he loves his friends more. A series of events leads Jimin to uncovering secrets he didn't know his friends were hiding and into the arms of someone he hated on principle.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49209175

Full Tags:

Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Enemies to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Bigotry & Prejudice, Attempted Sexual Assault, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, except magic, it's stopped before it gets very far, Underground Rapper Min Yoongi | Suga, Producer Min Yoongi | Suga, Producer Kim Namjoon | RM, Choreographer Park Jimin (BTS), Choreographer Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Fae Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin (BTS), Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of Talk About Consenti, t's a whole theme I guess, Angst with a Happy End, ingside namjin, Magic, Platonic Soulmates Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin, Miscommunication, feelings of betrayal, Agust D as a persona, soft smut, Non-Binary Original Characters

2am-closing Old Canyon Friends Only – anon

“Fuck, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok breathes out, brow furrowed at his phone screen. “You see the text?”

Jimin finishes wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a now-too-damp towel and makes an inquiring hum. Hoseok waves his phone, screen facing Jimin, as if he can see anything from this distance with the phone going wild through the air.

“Don’t make me guess, hyung,” Jimin says blandly. He gives Hoseok a look as he finishes with the towel and throws it in the bin in the corner of the studio. “My phone is still in my locker.”

“Friends Only at the Old Canyon tonight,” Hoseok says after giving Jimin a thoroughly unimpressed glance. His eyes glue themselves back on the phone screen as if the text message is going to suddenly reveal more details.

“Cool,” Jimin says with a shrug, already heading towards the door to go change. Just as his hand hits the handle he stops with a curse. “I forgot I have a job tomorrow, hyung. I don’t think I can go.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Absolutely not. No. I am not going to take one of your excuses this time. Is the job even real? No. You’re going.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines. “I do have a job.”

Hoseok is pulling open the door now, having elbowed Jimin out of the way. “I do not believe you. Go shower. I’m coming by at 8pm to dress you.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow. He knows he’s already lost, but he can’t stop himself from trying to fight it anyway. “I can dress myself, you know.”

Hoseok is already down the hallway, rounding the corner to the front office and exit. Jimin sighs at his friend’s back.

“I could have had a job tomorrow. You never know,” he says to no one before heading off to the showers.

Yoongi tosses the notepad onto the desk in frustration. He glances at the clock and regrets it immediately. It’s only noon and even though that doesn’t matter when he’s been in the same position, hunched over his notepad, sitting at his messy desk, music mixing software waiting patiently since yesterday. Yesterday morning. He thinks Namjoon brought him dinner, he glances at his trash can by the door. And yes, there’s the evidence, he did eat at least one meal in the over-24 hours he’s been here. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling relieved at the pressure.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

His self-loathing session is interrupted by a soft knock at the door, before the keypad is beeping with someone letting themselves in.

Yoongi turns back to his desk, instead of looking at the person stepping through his studio door. There are only two people who know the code beside him and one of them has never used it, probably never will. Instead, Yoongi starts tidying up the desk. Piling notepads and scraps of paper together neatly, putting loose pens away in their cute little Kumamon cup, straightening keyboards.

“Hyung, I brought lunch,” Namjoon says. “Were you here all night?”

Yoongi doesn’t bother to answer. Namjoon already knows the answer to the question. Yoongi finally turns to take in Namjoon and eye the take out containers being set on the small table at the end of the couch. He raises an eyebrow at the fried chicken containers.

“You here to break some bad news to me, Joon-ah?” he drawls.

“You wound me, hyung,” Namjoon says, but the blush blooming across his cheeks tells Yoongi all he needs to know.

“Let’s eat first so I can at least enjoy the food you went to all the trouble of bringing,” Yoongi says. “Fried chicken really deserves beer though.”

Namjoon sheepishly digs into his jacket pocket and produces a can of beer and then digs into the pocket on the other side to produce a second can.

“Shit,” Yoongi says with a whoosh of his exhale. “So, it’s really bad news.”

“Let’s eat first, hyung,” Namjoon says.

When they are done eating, sitting next to one another on the couch, Yoongi leans back giving his stomach an appreciative pat. He closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys the peace of the studio. Then after a deep inhale and exhale, he sits forward, forearms on his thighs, head cocked in Namjoon’s direction.

“Let’s hear it then,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon adjusts himself, clearly feeling anxious, jaw clenching just slightly. Yoongi watches all the little signs—tightening muscles, fingers twitching as if they want to be fists—Namjoon is angry. Not angry at Yoongi. No, he wouldn’t have brought chicken and beer if he were angry at Yoongi. But he’s angry.

“Spit it out, Namjoon,” Yoongi says flatly.

“They are summoning you back to the Seelie Court,” he says, voice tight, just like his muscles.

Yoongi blinks for a moment, processing the words. Then he pushes himself back, throwing all his weight to the back of the couch with a huff, kicking his feet out in front of him. He lets out a strangled laugh.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he manages to say finally.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whispers.

“Well, I am not going,” Yoongi states definitively. “They can fucking kiss my ass. And they can fucking stop using you as a messenger. It’s bullshit to put you in this position. Fuck them.”

Namjoon makes a small choking noise in his throat, then coughs as if trying to clear it. “They’re worried you’re going rogue on them. I guess Sunhee was spreading rumors you were seen with folks from the Unseelie Court.”

Yoongi laughs freely and loudly this time. “With what time? I am literally in here most waking hours.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says. “They still want you to come. They didn’t say for how long.”

“Well, my answer is still no,” Yoongi says. “I am, in fact, under no obligation to scamper off to them when they beckon me. I haven’t been a member of the Court for a long time. They’re all just too far up their own asses to realize it.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says again, letting Yoongi drop the topic.

“I’m glad you’re here though, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says. “Can I run some lyrics by you? This song is driving me up the fucking wall.”

Namjoon laughs, smiling with dimples and all. Yoongi returns his smile and gets up to retrieve the mess of notes he’d made about lyrics some time in the middle of last night. Both Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s phone chime at once.

Namjoon looks at his screen while Yoongi ignores his own phone in favor of searching through his messy handwriting for the lyrics he wanted to workshop.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“What’s up?” Yoongi says distractedly, still rifling through his notes.

“Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon exclaims.

Yoongi stops looking through his notes and glances at Namjoon. “Really?”

“Old Canyon,” Namjoon says with a nod.

“Huh,” Yoongi says, thinking.

“We should go, right?” Namjoon sounds hopeful. “You need to be with people, hyung. You’ve been cooped up here for days—weeks. You could do a battle, even. You know that always gets you inspired after a battle.”

Yoongi looks back down at the scribbles and crossed-out chaos on the papers in front of him. He thinks about how terrifyingly behind he is on this song, deadline looming. He thinks about being hunched over his notes, his keyboard for several more hours on end, getting nowhere.

“Sure,” he says, looking at Namjoon with a shrug. “Why not?”

Jimin looks at his reflection in the full length mirror hanging off the back of his bedroom door and exhales a pained sound through his teeth.

“Hyung, I don’t know about this.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Hoseok looks him up and down critically as if looking for the mistake. “You look sexy, Jimin.”

“I think he looks emo as fuck,” Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone, lying on his back on Jimin’s bed.

Hoseok scoffs before he says, “ He’s emo? You have literally only worn the color black this entire calendar year.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook retorts. “Remember? When your parents visited? I wore that grey sweater.”

“Dark grey,” Hoseok mutters. Then he shakes his head and gives Jimin another once-over. “You look hot, Jimin. I see a hookup in your future. And then you’ll be thanking me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “This is Friends Only, remember? If, and it’s already a big ‘if’, I wanted to get with someone, the odds of me finding anyone I’d want to hook up with are pretty low, hyung.”

Still, he looks at himself again in the mirror. The outfit, he will admit to himself—not out loud, he doesn’t want to give Hoseok that satisfaction—, but to himself, yes, the outfit is pretty hot. The black faux leather pants, practically skin tight, show off all his muscles earned from years of training. The black boots and black tee (again, rather skin tight) work in all the right ways. Pretty silver earrings dangle from his ears, his black hair intentionally a bit messy, like someone had grabbed onto it during a moment of passion, leaving it going every which way.

The make-up though. He steps closer to the mirror, inspecting how Hobi put dark eyeliner around his eyes, silver-grey eyeshadow making him look…seductive. He sighs. He’s feeling anything but seductive at the moment.

“I think it’s too much, hyung,” he finally says. “People will be mad if I’m sending mixed-signals.”

“And what would you suggest wearing instead?” Hoseok narrows his eyes at Jimin, daring him to keep pushing. “A plastic bag? Or, worse yet, denim overalls.”

“Yah, what’s wrong with denim overalls?” Jimin quips back.

Jungkook blinks over at them. “Yeah, I’ve even been known to wear denim overalls.”

“My point stands,” Hoseok says, his lips thin in feigned irritation. “Plus this is a Friends Only .”

Jimin clicks his tongue and looks at himself one more time. Then he glances over at Jungkook and says, “Yah, how come Jungkook isn’t getting all dolled up?”

Hoseok stares over at the boy who is laying one leg crossed over the other, foot jiggling wildly in the air, completely oblivious to the conversation, sucked into something on his phone. “He’s a lost cause, Jimin. Get him out of that oversize t-shirt? Convince him to wear something other than those boots that could stomp out an army? Nope. Lost cause.”

Jimin scoffs as he grabs his phone. “Alright well, let’s go get this over with. The sooner we go, the sooner we come back home and sleep.”

“That’s the spirit, hyung,” Jungkook says with a bright smile as he leaps gracefully off the bed.

Yoongi regrets. So much regret. He regrets convincing himself that coming to a Friends Only, right after the Seelie Court back-handedly summoned him, is anything but a terrible idea. There are fae everywhere. And maybe he’s being paranoid, but they keep giving him looks, like they all know—or at least know something he doesn’t. It’s unnerving.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi says, standing at the edge of the crowd, back to the large hangar door they came through. “Please tell me you also can see the chicken.”

“Chicken?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi points, blatantly, not caring if it’s rude, at the small hen sitting on a young woman’s shoulder, looking perfectly content despite the booming bass coming over the large industrial-size speakers.

“Ah, yes, that’s a chicken,” Namjoon confirms once his eyes find where Yoongi’s pointing.

Yoongi nods. He looks out to the mass of people. To the untrained eye it’s chaotic, a writhing storm of bodies convulsing and twisting in time with the bass that reverberates through the dirt floor. The flashing, colorful lights bounce off the corrugated metal ceiling of the warehouse they’re in. It’s dizzying.

“Alright, let’s go find sign ups,” Yoongi says, pulling Namjoon down by his arm so he can speak in his ear.

Namjoon nods and uses his height to look over the crowd. When he sees his target, he grabs Yoongi’s sleeve and weaves them through the mess of flailing limbs across the dance floor.

“V!” he yells when they’ve cleared the last bunch of dancers.

It’s calmer over here on this side of the warehouse. The party is only getting started and most people haven’t made it this far into the building yet. The tall man with brown curly hair falling over his nape turns at the sound of his name. His hair is long in the front as well, falling artfully into his eyes, the curl of it making him look deceptively innocent. His careful brown tailored suit—cut to look just a little bit too big on his frame in a very intentional way—makes him look like he wandered into the industrial block from another time period, not just another neighborhood of Seoul. His wide eyes light up at the sight of Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Hyungs! You made it!” he exclaims, pulling Namjoon into a hug and then Yoongi. “You battling tonight?”

“Yoongi hyung is,” Namjoon says with a smile. “I’ve got other plans.”

Yoongi snorts at that before dryly asking, “Why bother even coming here at all if you’re just gonna take Jin back home immediately?”

Namjoon pouts. “He’ll want to dance first, hyung. Plus, maybe we’ll stay to watch your battle.”

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi says with a roll of his eyes. “We all know you’ll last 30 seconds before you both want to fuck.”

“Who’s fucking?” a cheery voice says from behind Yoongi.

“Apparently you and Namjoon hyung, hyung,” V says cheekily.

Jin sidles up in between Yoongi and Namjoon, sliding his arm around Namjoon’s. He smiles sweetly. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, well, I’ve heard enough,” Yoongi says, taking a step away from Jin. “You got my name down there, kid?”

“Yup,” V says. “Small crowd tonight. Maybe it’s the weather?”

“Storm’s coming, yes,” Jin says almost wistfully. “I heard the Court was asking for you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi stares Jin down and says, “Not you, too, hyung. Why do they think going through my fucking friends is going to work? It has never worked.”

“I guess they feel that sending a full on Sidhe to come collect you is extreme,” Jin replies.

Yoongi laughs at that. “It’s also not going to work. I would never accept their invitation and they can’t fucking touch me without it. They know it. They might be stupid, but they aren’t that stupid.”

Yoongi sees the look in Jin’s eyes, like he’s about to argue, about to tell him all the reasons he should have never left Court in the first place, but they’ve been over it. They’ve rehashed the argument so many times, it’s left a bad taste in Yoongi’s mouth.

“I’m gonna go find a drink before the battle starts. If I don’t see you, hyung, Namjoon, have a good night,” Yoongi says with a mock salute before he saunters away in desperate need of libation. He feels the eyes of not just his friends, but also of every fae in the room, follow him as he goes. He swallows the irritation down. He’ll save it for the floor.

“This was a mistake,” Jimin says. The three of them are standing across the street, encased in darkness with half the street lamps out, looking at the large warehouse where the Friends Only was probably already in full swing. From outside it’s dark and quiet. Not a stray bass note or strobe light makes an appearance on the quiet industrial block. Jimin shudders at the thought of the magic it took to create such a large masking spell, his stomach churning.

“How about this,” Hoseok says, voice pitched ready for negotiation. Well, he’s going to sound like he’s negotiating, but what he’s really going to do is convince Jimin to do whatever he wants him to, but Jimin will feel like he compromised somehow. “We’ll just pop in, watch a battle or two, have a drink, maybe take one spin on the floor, and then bounce.”

Jimin huffs out a laugh. “That’s basically the whole Friends Only, hyung.”

“Well, you can’t not see a battle. Those are half the fun of a Friends Only,” Hoseok argues.

“He’s right, you know,” Jungkook chimes in.

Jimin’s eyes narrow at him. “Not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Jungkook says without missing a beat.

“I’m not drinking,” Jimin says after giving Jungkook the stink eye.

“No one’s gonna try anything,” Hoseok says. “It’s a fucking Friends Only. They’d be dumb to.”

“I’m not fucking drinking, hyung,” Jimin says with finality.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to drink.”

“Let’s go,” Jungkook cuts in after looking back and forth between his hyungs.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Jimin says.

After they show their text message to the bouncer and get their hands stamped, they stand letting the scene before them wash over them as their eyes adjust to the low lighting. Despite his reticence, Jimin feels the thrill of the bass as it vibrates through the dirt floor below his boots. His body is already itching to get out on the dance floor.

“You have your phone, yes?” Hoseok yells into his ear. “Call if you need anything. And I mean, anything, right, Jimin-ah?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jimin answers, making sure to look Hoseok in the eye so he knows he’s serious.

“Alright, have fun!” Hoseok gives a blinding dimpled smile and then is off into the crowd.

Jimin scoffs and turns to see if Jungkook wants to dance, only to find Jungkook is already gone.

“Fuckers,” Jimin mutters under his breath.

He inhales deeply, ignoring the niggling anxiety in favor of the thrum of excitement that pushes from inside his chest. He decides he’ll make his way over to the pit where they have the battles, so he can snag a good spot. Hoseok was right when he said the battles are half the fun of coming to these things.

After pushing his way through the crowd, he’s pleased to see not many have gathered yet. The best spot along the wooden fencing that blocks the “pit” off from the main part of the warehouse is still devoid of people. The pit is not really a pit, just a cordoned off part of the floor, really, various barriers put in place to keep onlookers from crowding participants. The wooden fence is considered prime real estate because it’s stable enough to lean against comfortably and the view is great. Plus, sometimes if a battler is in the mood, they’ll come interact with the audience and the fence is the best point of access.

Jimin leans happily against the fence, chest pressed into the top rail of wood, fingers drumming in beat with the music. Pleased he’s going to be able to check Hoseok’s Friends Only to do list off quickly, he lets his thoughts drift as he waits for the battles to start. He vaguely wishes he had thought to grab a bottle of water on the way over.

“Hey, gorgeous, you here all alone?” a saccharine sweet voice drips out next to him.

Jimin doesn’t move, only flicking his eyes to the left to see the man that had ambled up next to him, leaning his back against the fence.

“You mean, like on this planet or here at the pit?” Jimin asks, biting the inside of his cheek.

The man laughs brightly, loudly. Not bright like Hoseok hyung’s laugh, but a fake shrill sound that grates on Jimin’s ears. “I’ll take the answer to either, but I meant here at the Friends Only, gorgeous.”

“No, I’m not,” Jimin says tersely. He’s already over whatever this guy thinks he’s trying to do right now.

“Well, I don’t see anyone,” the man replies.

Typical. Jimin moves his head subtly, just slightly, to get a better look at the man while trying to not appear too obvious. He’s tall with big muscles threatening to rip the skin tight white tee he has on. Jimin bites at his cheek again, assessing. He curses, not for the first or last time, that he’s human and can’t feel out if the guy is fae.

It’s a Friends Only. The odds aren’t in Jimin’s favor.

“Like what you see?” the man asks. His tone is smug, obnoxious.

Jimin scoffs, but almost chokes as the man turns his head to face Jimin. His eyes glint silver and as he smiles, it’s a little too wide. Like someone was trying to create a human but didn’t quite know what one looked like, just this side of creepy as fuck. Guess that answers the fae question.

“Not really my type, sorry,” Jimin grits out, turning to face firmly forward again, hoping for the battle to just start already.

“Ah, don’t judge a book by the cover, gorgeous,” the man says. “I’m sure I can be exactly what you like.”

“Seriously doubt it, so, no thanks,” Jimin says, refusing to move, to look at the man.

He doesn’t relax even as the man remains quiet. Then the MC is yelling into the mic.

“Hey, hey, hey, party people! You made it to the Only Friends! You ready to rumble?!” the woman shouts, cutting through the music on the speakers near the pit.

Jimin starts in surprise as he hears shouts and screams, realizing that at some point in the last few minutes the crowd must have filled in around him.

“Make some noise!” the MC shouts.

The screams and shouts grow louder. People around Jimin are stomping their feet, vibrating the dirt of the floor. Jimin joins them with a simple loud “whoop” and stomps his feet. He feels the thrill sing in his veins.

“Alright, alright! First up, we have two competitors who have battled in the pit before! Please welcome K-K-K-KilllerKraft aaand YoFlow!”

The lights flash in brightly strobing rainbows as the crowd thrums in excitement. Jimin feels bodies press in around him. People manage to stay fairly respectful, even if they are hoping to get that much closer to the action, but he notices the man that had been poorly hitting on him earlier is definitely taking advantage of the proximity. He can feel like sides bump into one another, even if the man is keeping himself facing the pit.

Two men come out to the pit to more shouting and screaming from the crowd. Jimin does his best to ignore the constant presses at his side, watching the pit. He’s seen YoFlow perform before, not having been particularly impressed with his flow, despite the choice of stage names. KillerKraft is a new name for Jimin, so he waits to see what he’s got to offer.

The two men in the pit turn to face one another, each holding a mic in their hands. They are both posturing, making gestures and moving in circles confidently around the pit. Neither seem to remember there is an audience at all, both focused on the other.

Jimin sighs. He’s been to enough battles that he knows this is going to be a boring one. The two men are way too focused on dick measuring instead of performing. Sure enough, as soon as the music dropped signalling the start of the battle, the beat and flow changing, the crowd falling silent in anticipation, YoFlow jumps into lyrics about how many women he fucked this week. Boring. And also lies, Jimin thinks, looking YoFlow over. There is no way he’s getting women to give him a second look with that attitude.

KillerKraft is marginally better. The bar is low though, so that’s not really saying much. At least he manages to use some metaphor as he plays off some of YoFlow’s lyrics. Boring.

That’s when Jimin feels the creeping sensation at the back of his neck. At first he thinks it’s just in his head. He gets like that sometimes. So anxious he starts seeing or feeling things. But it doesn’t stop. Then the weight of the man who had lodged himself without permission against his side moves, so he’s half behind Jimin, pressing into his back. This forces his chest to dig uncomfortably into the wood in front of him. Panic wells up inside of Jimin. He has a half-fleeting thought that this behavior is very on theme .

“Fucking get off me,” he says, or tries to. It comes out as more of a wheeze between the panic gripping his throat and the pressure of the wooden beam on his lungs.

He can feel a hot breath on his neck as the man leans in to speak into his ear. “Just relax, gorgeous. I promise I’ll take good care of you tonight.”

And Jimin can feel it. The words are laced with symbols, infused with whatever fae magic this guy is channeling. The panic rises and rises, his heart pounding, throat closing.

“St-st-stop it,” he pants out. He briefly thinks of trying to thrust his elbow backwards, maybe get the guy to step back so he can get away, but his arms are sluggish and awkwardly trapped up by his chest on the wooden fence beam.

“Or what,” the man breathes. “What are you going to do, human?”

Tears prick his eyes as he feels his body involuntarily relaxing everywhere the man is touching, the spell taking effect. Everything feels heavy and it takes all his willpower to keep from sinking backwards into the man completely. A tear rolls down his cheek as he hears the man’s pleased, “That’s it, gorgeous. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good.”

Fucking Friends Only. Fucking magic. Fucking fae. He’s going to kill Hoseok for bringing him here. He’s going to hate himself forever for letting himself come here. The scream that’s building, building, building in his throat chokes him, having nowhere to go, no escape.

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders to loosen them up under his leather jacket. He jumps a bit in place, getting blood flowing. He’d been half-listening to the first battle and he’s a bit disappointed at the competition. He could really use a real challenge. He thinks he should have worked harder to get Namjoon to sign up. Then maybe he’d feel a lick of anxiety right now. He runs his hand through his jaw-length hair.

“Okay, give a big round of applause for KillerKraft, winner of our first battle!” the MC shouts through the mic. “And let’s make some noise to encourage YoFlow! Better luck next time!”

Yoongi scoffs. Fucking Friends Only. Ridiculous. Why not just give everyone gold stars? Participation trophies?

“And nowwwwww!!” the MC continues. “We have a special treat, folks! A legend walks among us! Make some noise for our one and only, Agust D!”

With one swift inhale and one long exhale, Yoongi becomes Agust D and walks out into the pit. The crowd is so loud the ground shakes. Yoongi can never get used to it—the enthrallment, not spelled, that takes over the crowd whenever he’s on stage. Agust D, however, soaks that shit up. It keeps his heart beating.

With cold eyes and subtle movements, he steps around the pit, facing his opponent. This KillerKraft is new on the circuit, a kid. Agust D can see through all the bravado, immediately spots every single weakness, and gets ready to strike.

Agust D smirks as KillerKraft opens his rap keeping with the motif of the last battle—sexual conquests and prowess. Child’s play. The kid falters at Agust D’s smirk, knows he’s waded too deep, he’s out of the kiddy pool without his floaties.

The beat shifts, changes, and the MC shouts “Agust D!”

The crowd is screaming before Agust D even has the mic up to his lips. His eyes glint steel, boring a hole into the kid in front of him.

“Hey you, thinking you’re a contender,

Spending all your time begging women to look your direction

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology

Go back to school kid, Get your grades up kid

Watch me a while, Study this flow here

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology”

Agust D turns from the kid then, who is pale and clearly knows he’s beat, and looks out to the audience. The crowd is screaming and jumping, losing their minds as Agust D keeps rapping. He walks along the edge of the pit, occasionally reaching a hand out, letting people from the crowd brush his palm. Every single person is in the zone with him, flowing along with his cadence, like one organism writhing with life.

All except one person. Agust D, wraps up his last stanza and the MC is shouting about his victory as he comes up to a section of the wooden fence where a man—beautiful, ethereal—is leaned chest against the wood, knuckles white as fingers grip the top of the beam. A tear track on his cheek, streaked black with his makeup, is shocking against his skin. Aside from the tension in his hands, his body seems relaxed. A large man—sylph by the looks of him—is standing directly behind, towering over the angelic man. At a glance it might look like they are just leaning into one another enjoying the show. But Agust D, following the tension in the shorter man’s hands juxtaposed with his body being propped up by the larger man, not to mention the tear, is setting off all kinds of alarms.

So, instead of going back to the center of the pit to accept his victory in the battle, he continues walking until he’s directly in front of the pair, only separated by the wooden fence. He watches the man’s wide teary eyes follow him as he approaches.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Agust D asks the shorter man, not even bothering to look in the taller man’s direction.

He doesn’t need a verbal response. The large eyes, brimming with more tears are enough to tell him all he needs to know.

“Okay,” Agust D says. He flicks his eyes up to the taller man who is staring down at him looking enraged. “I suggest you back the fuck off now.”

“Fuck you, I found him first,” the man spits out.

Possibly, maybe, in this moment, if Yoongi were Yoongi, this would go down a bit differently. But Agust D is at the mic. The mic that he lifts to his face. The face that is smirking, fire burning in his eyes. The man looks back confidently, smiling too widely, challenging the rapper.

So Agust D accepts the challenge.

“Everyone! We having a good night?” Agust D asks.

The crowd screams.

“I can’t hear you,” Agust D says calmly into the mic.

The crowd writhes, pushing forward as feet stomp and voices pitch higher.

“Everyone, make some fucking noise!” Agust D growls, elongating all the vowels as he speaks.

The crowd screams so loudly, his ears go fuzzy and he feels the shock in his skull.

After the crowd settles down a little, waiting for Agust D’s next words, he speaks again. “Friends Only is a great place, don’t you think?”

Screams of agreement ring out.

“Well, we have a problem here at tonight’s Friends Only, everyone,” Agust D says, eyes locking with the taller man who is now gripping tightly at the shorter man’s upper arms. That’s going to leave bruises. Agust D sees red. “Someone has used their magic on one of our Friends without their consent, everyone. You and I both know that ruins the fun for everyone. Isn’t that right?”

There are gasps and angry cries in the crowd now as people start to catch on to what Agust D is saying.

“What do we do to people who use magic on a Friend without consent, everyone?”

The crowd responds immediately in a unified voice, “Life ban! Life ban! Life ban!”

“That’s right. Life ban. So I suggest you get fucking lost, asshole,” Agust D keeps his piercing gaze on the taller man. “I know your face. You fucked up at a Friends Only. Consider this Friendship canceled. Get the fuck out.”

The crowd keeps chanting “Life ban!” as the man—finally—steps away from the shorter man, who collapses against the fence, barely holding himself up. The taller man, anger still clear as day on his face, storms through the crowd, cursing as he goes.

Agust D turns to the MC, shouts “catch” a moment before throwing the mic at them, and then is launching himself over the wooden fence in the blink of an eye. When he lands in the dirt on the other side, Agust D melts away and Yoongi is left reaching out for the man who is sliding down to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Hey, hey, there we go,” Yoongi murmurs as he slides down next to the other man, catching him under his arm before he completely hits the floor. Yoongi helps him all the way down so his back is propped up against the fence, still holding him up with one arm.

“Can you speak?” Yoongi asks, watching the man’s face carefully.

The man’s throat convulses several times as he swallows, clearly trying to get control back of his body.

“Can I– fuck,” Yoongi says as he watches the man’s eyes fill with tears again. “Can I ask permission to summon a release spell? It won’t do anything but undo some of that asshole’s summons.”

The man is trembling slightly, his eyes are wide, tears flowing down his cheeks again, but—almost imperceptibly—he nods.

Yoongi nods in return and then closes his eyes. In general, he doesn’t spell much, at least not this way. His music is a kind of magic, too, but takes none of the effort that summoning spells does. He imagines the symbols for release and freedom. He wants to add one for peace or safety but knows that would be a step too far, so he leaves it. With a soft hum on his lips, he pulls at the magic and it pulses through his own arm where he’s holding onto the man.

The man pulls in a loud gasp, gulping at air, and a full-fledged panic attack crashes over him. Yoongi adjusts himself so the man is leaning more firmly against the fence post, so that Yoongi can get eye-to-eye with the man.

“Hey, Friend, can you hear me?” Yoongi asks.

The man’s breathing is so rapid, Yoongi is afraid he’s going to pass out. He’s shivering too, which Yoongi frowns at. The man’s tight tee and leggings not helping him be warm or comfortable. Yoongi shrugs himself out of his leather jacket and pulls the man forward enough to get the jacket around his shoulders. Then he settles the man back against the fence post and watches as he gasps for air.

“Listen to my voice, Friend,” Yoongi continues. “Follow my breathing. In– and out– that’s right.”

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, the man’s breathing finally, finally regulating.

“There we go,” Yoongi says. “What’s your name?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin,” the man says. He wipes aggressively at his cheeks with his hands and then gasps at his hands as they come back black from the makeup. Almost to himself, as he wipes the makeup stains onto his pants, he mutters, “Fuck. I fucking hate Friends Only.”

“I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says after a moment. “Is there someone we can call?”

Jimin laughs. It’s a bit pitched, a bit hysterical. Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Jimin pushes himself up, making to stand instead of continuing to sit on the dirt floor. Yoongi hovers but doesn’t touch him. Jimin leans himself against the pole, now standing mostly upright, shrugging Yoongi’s leather jacket around himself.

“I know who you are. You’re literally a famous rapper,” Jimin says, voice as pitched and hysterical as his laugh. In a different context he might sound cheeky or mocking in a friendly way. But here, in this tucked away corner of the warehouse, he sounds lost, terrified.

“Do you have someone you can call?” Yoongi asks again. He wants to reach out with a hand and hold Jimin in some way, to help him, but he knows more unprovoked, unconsented touch right now will not be helpful.

“Yeah. I-” Jimin starts, but is cut off by another voice shrieking his name.

Yoongi watches as V comes barreling towards them across the floor, the crowd that had formed around the pit completely dissipated now that the entertainment is over.

“Jimin?! Jimin! What the fuck happened?”

Jimin feels the breath get knocked out of him all over again as a body engulfs him in a full body hug. His back presses up against the fence once more, but instead of anxious, he feels safe and protected.

“Taehyung,” he breathes into the other man’s neck. “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

Taehyung pulls back and looks at Jimin’s face. His hands come up to cup Jimin’s cheeks, thumbs wiping away some of the smeared makeup. Jimin melts into the gentle touches.

“What happened, Jimin-ah?” he asks.

“There was a guy– an asshole,” Jimin starts, but finds he can’t really come up with the right words. His eyes flit from Taehyung’s face to Yoongi’s, who is standing in the same place he had been before Taehyung’s arrival.

Taehyung follows the movement of Jimin’s eyes and turns to look at Yoongi.

“Is this the asshole?” Taehyung asks, his face the perfect picture of confusion.

“No! No! He– he helped me,” Jimin says quickly.

“Do you two know each other?” Yoongi asks. He looks back and forth between the two, noting how Taehyung’s hands are still caressing Jimin’s cheeks.

“This is my soulmate! Jimin!” Taehyung says enthusiastically.

Jimin watches as Yoongi furrows his brow for a moment and then a look of enlightenment blooms on his face. He smiles as he says, “Oh, you’re Park Jimin. I should have recognized your name. I’m sorry.”

Jimin blinks at Yoongi’s smile. He’s not sure he’s ever seen it. He’s been going to battles for the last couple of years, ever since Hoseok took him to one his first weekend after moving to Seoul. Of course, he realizes, he’s never really seen Yoongi before either. He’s only really seen Agust D. Agust D has a wicked, soul-crushing smirk, but never smiles. Which is hot as hell, but Jimin thinks he might actually find Yoongi’s sweet gum-filled smile more attractive.

“Wait,” Jimin says, jolting in an epiphany. He points a finger back and forth between the two men. “Do you know each other?”

“Yoongi is my hyung,” Taehyung says happily, as if that is enough explanation of anything. “But seriously, what happened?”

This time Taehyung glances back to Yoongi to see if he’ll fill in any of the details. Yoongi looks at Jimin with a question in his eyes. Jimin nods. “I– I don’t know if I want to talk about it right now. But you can tell him.”

Yoongi nods before he looks at Taehyung. He says slowly, “Well, the short version is some asshole sylph spelled Jimin without his consent and I had to ban him.”

“What the fuck?” Taehyung screeches. Now he’s pulling Jimin back in front of him by the shoulders and inspecting him all over. “What did he do? What the fuck? This is a Friends Only . Oh, my goddess, and in front of you , hyung. What the fuck was he thinking?”

Jimin is jostled this way and that as Taehyung keeps on with his inspection. He’s starting to shake a bit again, at the memories of the spell that had seeped in his veins, unfortunately far too similar to the exhaustion left in the wake of his panic attack. A shiver runs up his spine and then he starts feeling a bit dizzy.

“V, look, I banned him, okay?” Yoongi is saying flatly.

“Should have fucked him up first, is what I’m saying, hyung,” Taehyung replies with a pout.

Yoongi laughs. Jimin watches him, even with his vision swimming a bit. Is this normal? Or is this residual effects of the spelling? Multiple spells, he remembers. His breath catches. Yoongi can summon. Fuck, Yoongi can summon.

“Are you okay, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asks. His hands are back on Jimin’s cheeks, moving to feel his forehead. “You’re a little cold. Are you feeling ill?”

Then he glances at Yoongi, and says, “What did that asshole do?”

“I don’t know, I think it was just a standard immobility spell,” Yoongi says with a frown. He steps a bit closer to look at Jimin’s eyes. Jimin gulps in air as his lungs seize in fear. Yoongi stops and takes a step back again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jimin-ssi.”

“Hyung is good, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung murmurs comfortingly. “He won’t hurt you.”

Jimin shakes his head. He’s not sure what he’s saying no to. It’s not that he thinks Yoongi will hurt him, per se. Shaking his head brings the dizziness back full force. He throws his arms out, flailing for something to hold onto before he falls over. Taehyung is there immediately, arm under his curled protectively around his back, keeping him upright.

“He’s really cold, hyung,” Jimin hears Taehyung say. “Jimin-ah? Who did you come with?”

“Ho-Hoseok hyung, Jungkook,” Jimin mutters out through gritted teeth, sure if he opens his mouth too widely he will throw up. “Uh, ‘m not, not feeling good.”

The room is well and truly spinning now. Jimin is pretty sure he says, “Wanna go home, Tae-ah,” right before everything goes black.

“What the fuck?” Hoseok says again. Yoongi’s lost count of the number of times the man has uttered the phrase in the last 10 minutes. Each time he’s put different emphasis on the words, perhaps stressing the parts that are most perplexing to him in the moment. He stares down at Jimin, sound asleep on the couch, as he says, again, “What the fuck ?”

“Did any of the cameras catch that guy? Any of the wards? We should be pressing charges,” Jungkook says, eyes flashing gold in the light. He’s tense, hands fists at his side. He’s on the far side of the room, as if he’s afraid his negative energy is going to somehow impact Jimin’s sleep. Of course, with Jungkook, that’s not an impossibility.

“Namjoon and Jin are talking to security right now,” Taehyung says. He’s sitting on the floor of the small room, leaning up against the couch, hand slowly carding through Jimin’s hair as he watches the man sleep. He had already cleaned Jimin’s face and hands free of makeup with a wet cloth early. Yoongi watches, mesmerized by the tender care exhibited by the normally no-nonsense, zero shits given V.

The room itself holds nothing but a filing cabinet, a table, both shoved against one wall gathering dust, and the couch. For the gathering tonight, it’s meant to be a rest area, and seems to be serving its purpose well at the moment.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok growls, his hands yanking at his own short hair in frustration. “I brought him here thinking he’d be safe. He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. He seems to have deflated some of his anger. “Friends Only is supposed to be safe. We couldn’t have known.”

“How is it that all of you know him,” Yoongi says, waving towards the sleeping man, “and I’ve never met him.”

The other three men glance at each other and shrug in unison.

“Well, I’ve known him since university,” Taehyung says and looks at the other two men.

“And, as you might have guessed,” Hoseok says, “we dance together.”

Everyone glances at Jungkook who looks tense again. His jaw flexes as he says in a low tone, “I’m his Guardian.”

“Ah,” is all Yoongi says, glancing back at Jimin.

“I actually didn’t realize he and Tae were close until now,” Hoseok adds.

“Soulmates,” Taehyung corrects. He looks back down at Jimin and whispers, “Soulmates.”

Yoongi nods. He feels a bit like a creep watching Jimin sleep, so he looks up and around the room, occasionally accidentally making eye contact with the others as they all stand vigil forcing his eyes to pingpong all over the place. Nervously he quickly glances at Jimin again. Yoongi is feeling oddly protective of this man he just met. He doesn’t know his story, but Yoongi is finding he really wants to know it.

“I need to get back to the floor,” Taehyung says, reluctance clear in his tone. “You’ll stay with him?”

Yoongi is surprised that Taehyung is addressing him and not the other two men in the room—the men that are actually Jimin’s friends. Everyone is looking at him and he feels sick as he recognizes the looks on their faces. Reverence, respect, deference. All the foolishness he’d left behind when he walked away from the Seelie Court. He glances down at Jimin again and understands. They’re trusting him, Yoongi, to protect their friend.

“I, uh, yes,” Yoongi says after a long pause. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his teeth. “I’ll stay.”

With that, Taehyung nods and stands, dusting the dirt off his trousers. “Thank you, hyung. If there’s a lull, I’ll come check on you.”

“Let me go with you,” Hoseok says. “I want to see what Namjoon and Jin have found on the CCTV.”

Yoongi watches as both men walk out and then looks at Jungkook. “How’re you holding up, kid?”

The younger man, eyes still trained on the sleeping man on the couch, just shrugs. After a moment he says, “I’ve been better.”

Yoongi nods. He doesn’t know much about imugi guardian bonds, but considering how protective he himself is feeling for the human sleeping away on the couch completely unconscious to the turmoil going around in his friend group, he can’t imagine Jungkook is feeling great. Yoongi allows himself to ponder for a moment more what it is about this human that has everyone so whipped. Yoongi is broken out of his reverie as Jungkook shifts in his place on the far side of the room, moving his weight from foot to foot.

“Do– do you think something is wrong with him?” Jungkook asks in a small voice.

Yoongi looks at him carefully, noting the gold glint in his eyes and the way his fists are white-knuckled and tense at his side still. He answers him slowly, “I think he’s human and was put through a lot of stress. I got rid of all the casting on him, but I think his body still needs to recover from the effects.”

“But he will recover,” Jungkook says. It sounds like a statement, but there’s just enough tremor in his voice to make it sound uncertain.

“He will recover, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says. “He’ll be fine.”

They fall into a silent vigil after that, only the muffled thrum of the bass from the dance music can be heard through the walls, waiting for the others to come back with news or for Jimin to wake up. Yoongi finds his mind wandering, thinking through how the day had gone absolutely fucking sideways. He can’t entirely say he regrets it though.

“Cocky little shit probably didn’t even realize we use CCTV in this place,” Jin says. He and Namjoon returned less than an hour after they settled Jimin on the couch in the lounge.

“Cocky? Or an idiot?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow raised.

“Probably both, honestly,” Namjoon says. “We were able to pull multiple angles of his face before, during, and after the, uh, incident.”

“It’s already been sent around to those that need to know,” Jin says. “If he’s smart, he’ll have already fucked off back to the Dreaming or at least out of this city.”

“What are the chances we’ll get that lucky?” Yoongi grumbles. “You said it. Cocky and stupid. Not a winning combo.”

“He better hope he doesn’t run into me on the street,” Jungkook says darkly.

Yoongi eyes him warily. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid. You can’t Guard him if you’re banished back to the Dreaming.”

Jungkook gives a huff and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of the sylph then,” Jin says, patting Yoongi on the shoulder.

The first thing Jimin is aware of is his pounding headache. His hands immediately go up to rub his temples to try to find some relief. He slowly tries to squint his eyes open, but the fluorescent lighting makes the pounding in his head worse. With a groan, he pushes himself upright, the world spinning for a moment as he tries to piece together how he got here.

“Woah, woah, not too fast,” Jimin hears a low, gravely voice say.

“Drink this, hyung,” a much more familiar voice says and a bottle of water is floating in front of his face.

He gulps the whole bottle down greedily. He looks around the room again as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s half-laying, half-sitting on a dingy couch in what looks like a converted office or storeroom. Kneeling in front of him are Agust D— what the fuck —and Jungkook. Where Agust D’s face looks neutral, Jungkook’s is pinched with worry.

“How are you feeling, hyung?” Jungkook says, gently taking the empty water bottle and cap out of Jimin’s hands.

‘I– what happened?” Jimin finally asks, mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out how he got here. His memory is coming back in snapshots and the images he’s seeing are disconcerting to say the least.

“Do you remember the rap battle?” Jungkook asks. Jimin thought he’d looked worried a moment ago, but that was apparently just mild concern. The look on his face now is definitely worried.

“I– oh,” Jimin says as soon as he does remember the rap battle. “There was a handsy asshole that wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Then the evening clicks into place. Jimin shuts his eyes as he says, “Oh, he used magic on me. He fucking magic-roofied me.”

Jungkook makes a small whimpering, broken sound in his throat. Jimin throws his eyes back open to see the tears welling up in Jungkook’s eyes. Without thinking he opens his arms and Jungkook falls into them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, hyung,” Jungkook says in a small voice. “The hyungs are making sure he can’t come back, won’t bother you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Won’t leave you alone again.”

“Hush,” Jimin says, patting Jungkook’s back. The sadness in Jungkook’s voice is the most sobering of medicines. “It’s not your fault. It’s that magic-wielding fae’s fault. No one else’s. Besides, what could you have done anyway, huh? You know I’d rather see you safe.”

Jungkook nods from Jimin’s shoulder, his face buried in Jimin’s neck. The man still kneeling on the floor in front of the couch makes a small coughing noise that Jimin almost mistakes for a laugh.

Jimin’s eyes flick over to the man, Agust D—no, he’s Yoongi right now—still has a neutral expression on his face. His hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail. Jimin feels a needling sense of irritation in his chest at the sight of him. In entirely different circumstances, Jimin would find him attractive—like beyond attractive, really. But the fact is, they are in these circumstances and Jimin finds the pull to this man irritating at best.

“Why are you here, exactly?” Jimin asks.

“Your friends asked me to look out for you,” Yoongi says calmly.

Jungkook pushes himself up so that he’s sitting at Jimin’s knees, on the edge of the couch. Jimin keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

“Well,” Jimin continues shortly, waving his hand at himself dismissively, “as you can see, I am now fine. So, you can fuck off.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, sounding aghast.

“No, Jungkook, don’t,” Jimin says. He refuses to take his eye off the fae in front of him though. “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi, for stepping in and for helping my friends out. I am no longer in need of your services.”

Yoongi opens his mouth and then closes it again. Jimin narrows his eyes at him, challenging him to try arguing. Just as Yoongi opens his mouth again, the door to the room opens and Hoseok walks in with two other men. Jimin has to do a double-take to realize it’s Namjoon and his boyfriend.

“You’re awake!” Hoseok says cheerfully as he hurries over to Jimin’s side, nudging Yoongi out of the way. Yoongi nearly falls over, but catches himself and stands up, fading into the background of the group as everyone crowds around.

Jimin looks at everyone’s stricken faces and plasters a smile on his face and lies, “I’m fine. Everyone is so dramatic.”

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok starts.

“No, no, you know what,” Jimin interrupts. “I am going to go dance. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m going to go dance, like I planned. Then I’m going to go home. Everyone is being so ridiculous.”

He pushes himself up off the couch in one movement and only feels a little bit dizzy. He hides it well, he thinks. Hoseok hovers at his elbow, but doesn’t intervene. Jungkook stands to be at his other side. With the two of them flanking him, he feels fairly confident.

“Jimin, are you sure? I can take you home,” Namjoon says.

“No, hyung, that’s okay,” Jimin says as he shakes his head. He’s incredibly impressed with himself at how stable he sounds. “I don’t want to ruin your night. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no trouble,” Namjoon’s boyfriend says. Jimin feels a little bad that he can’t remember his name right now.

“No, hyung, I’m okay,” Jimin is even more impressed with himself now that he manages to sound exasperated.

Yoongi, who has edged back into the circle of men standing around Jimin, says softly, “I can stay with you or, well, not actually dancing, but I can keep an eye out.”

Jimin tenses to hide his shudder. “No, thank you, again, Yoongi-ssi. I’ve had quite enough of fae tonight, thank you.”

With that declaration he turns on his heel and walks to the door, confidently pulls it open, and steps back out into the warehouse.

Jungkook and Hoseok are quick on Jimin’s heels as he makes his dramatic exit from the rest room. Hoseok throws an apologetic smile over his shoulder before he’s shutting the door behind him. In the few seconds the door is open, the room seems to fill with music, but the silence after the door shuts is deafening.

“Does– does he not know you are all fae?” Yoongi says to no one in particular in the wake of Jimin’s departure.

“I guess not,” Jin says with a click of his tongue.

Namjoon looks just as bewildered as the other two as he says, “I guess it never came up?”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh then, perhaps bordering on hysterical. He says faintly, “That’s– that’s maybe the most nonsensical encounter I’ve ever had in my life. And I fucking lived at Court for years. What the fuck.”

Neither Jin nor Namjoon seem to have a response to that other than for Jin to give Yoongi’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Are you going to report that sylph to the Court, Joon-ah?” Yoongi asks. “He really shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with humans.”

“I do think he is a liability walking around Seoul,” Namjoon agrees.

“You know, Yoongi-chi,” Jin says. He kicks the heel of his right foot against the toes of his left, looking the picture of innocence, even as his voice sounds coy. “You could deliver the report yourself. It would have more weight coming from you.”

Yoongi scoffs. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before he says, “You know fucking well that Namjoon’s voice has plenty of weight.”

“Well, just think about it,” Jin says.

Yoongi slowly nods his head in a way he knows can only be interpreted as sarcastic.

“Okay, well, this has been some kind of evening,” Yoongi says. “I’m gonna fuck off home now.”

He pats his side for his phone only to discover his pocket isn’t there, because he’s not wearing his leather jacket. Because Jimin is wearing it.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Then he laughs again—breathy with an edge to it. Then he growls, “Fuck!”

The two men in front of him look understandably bewildered. Namjoon opens his mouth to ask, but Yoongi is already moving towards the door.

As Yoongi rips the door open, he yells back at the two wide-eyed men, “I gave my fucking jacket to the kid and the jacket has my phone in it!”

Yoongi decides to ignore Jin’s stage whisper, “how chivalrous” as he stalks out to the dance floor.

Following the thumping of the bass and skirting around the throng of people dancing in the warehouse, Yoongi finally spots Jimin dancing sandwiched in between Hoseok and Jungkook, who are each facing inward. There’s a fine cloud of dust from the dirt floor of the warehouse, creating a hazy scene. They are all moving their hips synchronously, arms draped across each other’s hips and shoulders. They all look hot and sweaty. Entirely too warm to be wearing Yoongi’s leather jacket, which Jimin still is. Jimin tilts his head back in a clear laugh, even though nothing can be heard above the din of the music.

Yoongi grits his teeth, eyes are trained on Jimin, as he feels a spark of heat ignite in his gut. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Park Jimin is a menace. Whatever it is he and Jimin are doing right now, Yoongi knows he needs to come out on top or have the last word or whatever it is. He needs it. So, Yoongi decides to go find something to drink and wait the younger man out. Yoongi is nothing if not a patient man.

Jimin can see Yoongi watching him. Jimin hates it. He’s determined to ignore it. He carefully starts to move Yoongi out of his line of sight, slowly but surely navigating the trio in the opposite direction so that he doesn’t have to see him staring at him and feel heat from his gaze any longer. Every time he tries to move his trio of dancers around the dance floor, he still somehow catches Yoongi’s eyes on him, dark gaze piercing through his skin into his bones and nerves. Jimin’s skin crawls with the feeling of eyes on him. A part of him is angry about the fact that he likes it, likes that feeling. It makes him feel important, desired almost. But he quickly pushes the thought away, knowing it’s dangerous and alluring in equal measure. His frustration builds until he can’t take it anymore and can’t be held responsible for what he does next.

“Mother fucker, what is his problem?” Jimin growls out.

His two dance partners, clearly still on alert from earlier, whip their heads up to look at him, stopping right in the middle of the dance floor. Jungkook’s hands hover over Jimin, eyes scanning, as if checking for injuries.

“What is it? What happened?” Hoseok asks.

“He’s fucking watching me!” Jimin says, ignoring the ridiculous hysteria of his two friends.

“Who? Who is watching you?” Jungkook says quickly, whipping his head all around as if looking for some boogieman to come out of the dance floor.

“Min Fucking Yoongi,” Jimin grits out.

Much to Jimin’s annoyance, both his dance partners visibly deflate, tension leaving their bodies.

Jimin bites back his urge to scream in frustration and instead yells, “Why do you guys trust him? He can fucking cast! Why are you even friends with him? How are you even friends with him?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when Hoseok cuts him off with a shake of his head. Instead, the older man wraps his hand around Jimin’s waist to steer him off the dance floor, Jungkook trailing behind them.

“Hyung,” Jimin says shortly, once they are away from the swaying mass of dancing bodies, towards the outer edge of the warehouse where it’s a little easier to hear one another.

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says sweetly. “Maybe we should call it a night, hm? It’s been a hard night, yeah?”

“Okay, I know that face,” Jimin says, eyes narrowing. “You’re lying to me. There’s something you’re not saying. What the hell is going on?”

Hoseok has the gall to look sheepish. His gaze stays low and he puts his hands in his pockets. Jimin glances at Jungkook who is also looking awkwardly down at his own boots, nervously twisting the ball of one foot into the dirt.

“Here you are!” a shrill voice calls out. Jimin looks to see Namjoon and his boyfriend approaching. Namjoon’s boyfriend—Jimin is feeling increasingly angry at himself for not remembering his name—is apparently the one that called out to them. “I thought you would have gone home after a few dances!”

“Hyung!” Hoseok says cheerfully, his smile heart-shaped, all remnants of sheepishness gone.

“We were just talking about taking off,” Jungkook says. He, Jimin thinks, at least has the decency to look a little wary and guilty.

“The fuck we were,” Jimin growls. “These two were about to explain to me the thing none of you are saying. Why do you trust Min Yoongi? Why are you friends with him?”

“Why are we friends with Min Yoongi?” Namjoon’s boyfriend blinks.

Jimin crosses his arms across his chest to keep himself from exploding. “Yes, why do you all hang out with a fae?”

“I really think we should head home,” Hoseok tries again. But, at the same time, Namjoon, still trying to understand Jimin’s question, speaks over the top of him.

“I don’t understand why we wouldn’t know Yoongi hyung. We all know each other from Court.” Namjoon says. He turns to confirm this with the others as Jimin stares at him, Namjoon’s words sinking into Jimin’s skull.

Jimin thinks everyone starts screaming at Namjoon, but he’s not sure. His ears go fuzzy with white noise and it feels like someone pulled the bottom out from the floor. He frowns at his group of friends, all bickering and gesticulating at one another.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says in a neutral voice. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say– did you just say you’re fae?”

With a mind that has gone amazingly blank, he waves his hand around the group of four to accentuate his point. “All of you are fae?”

The silence is telling. Jimin doesn’t even have the courage to look at their faces. He swallows thickly. “Is anyone else fae around here that hasn’t bothered to tell me?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon supplies, with Hoseok body slamming him a half a second later.

“Taehyung,” Jimin repeats blankly. “My Taehyung?”

Again, silence falls across the group.

Jimin is sure the music is still playing. The party goes on. But none of that matters. He doesn’t hear any of it. All he hears is static. Jimin’s eyes burn like embers with tears he absolutely refuses to shed. He feels betrayal like ice in his veins. Jimin can’t move. His limbs feel heavy, like lead, and his head is spinning. He feels like he’s in a dream. But this isn’t a dream. He reels trying to get some semblance of control back, feeling a little like he’s going mad.

He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths as he tries to grapple with the revelation that everyone around him is fae, putting pieces together of his memories, trying to find the place where he missed this key detail. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can’t seem to shake off the feeling like he’s been the butt of some sick cosmic joke.

“Was there going to be a point in time when any of you thought to, I don’t know, tell me about this?” Jimin asks calmly.

He watches as the four men in front of him glance at each other. Anger flares up inside him, hot and fierce. He scoffs, an embittered smirk plastered on his face, and he rolls his eyes. He feels the anger build until he’s sure the lava inside him is visible even to those standing guiltily in front of him.

“Fuck this,” Jimin hisses. He’s spent the last several years apparently good friends with fae—a lot of fae. He looks at Jungkook, who he’s known forever, and feels his heart crack in his chest. He watches as a tear slides down Jungkook’s cheek. Jimin thinks he should feel bad, and maybe he will later, but right now he feels like all the people in front of him have just confirmed his suspicions—fae manipulate and spell to get what they want.

“Hyung, I can explain,” Jungkook’s broken voice is muffled by the static still echoing in Jimin’s ears. Jimin just numbly shakes his head.

Jimin realizes he’s been unknowingly playing with fire his whole life, a fire he grew up fearing, and his rage turns to impulsiveness. His mind whirring with ways he can take back control of this, of his life, of who he spends time with. At that moment he feels like there has only been one person this evening who has been honest with him. So, without another word to the speechless men— fae —in front of him, he turns on his heel, knowing exactly where the man is standing against the warehouse wall, still feeling his gaze burn holes into his skin, like a beacon.

Jimin can hear the surprised shouts and protests from his friends but he ignores them and stalks over to the man standing, one hand holding two water bottles, the other hand in his jeans pocket, t-shirt just tight enough to allow Jimin’s imagination to fill in the details of his chest and abs, permed hair still up in a half-ponytail, loose hairs framing his face beautifully. He’s so beautiful.

Jimin confidently strides towards the fae and watches as the barest flicker of confusion crosses the other’s face before he retrains the neutral gaze on Jimin. Without another thought he steps right into Yoongi’s space, chest to chest, gripping his shoulders, and pulls him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

For a moment, Yoongi is too stunned to respond, but soon he gives in to Jimin’s kiss. It’s hot and needy, the kind of kiss that tells Jimin Yoongi wants this as much as Jimin does. Jimin feels his heart pound faster as Yoongi leans into him, and he can practically feel the heat radiating off of the other man’s body. Jimin’s own impulsiveness terrifies him, but not enough to stop.

When they finally break apart, Jimin looks up at Yoongi looking for signs of regret or anger, but sees none. He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the fae’s, savoring the feeling of closeness, with their hot, panting breaths intermingling.

Then, without speaking, Jimin leans in again for another kiss. It’s rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth as they claim each other’s mouth. Jimin moans into the kiss, his entire body melting against Yoongi’s. As they kiss, Jimin can feel one of Yoongi’s hands slowly inching up his shirt, teasing the skin underneath, pressing around his waist. He gasps at the touch, his skin erupting into goosebumps, craving more. Their kisses become more feverish, more passionate, until Jimin feels like he can hardly breathe. All he can feel is heat and fire.

They pull apart once more to catch their breaths, they lean into one another, still panting. Hands still gripping at one another, the water bottles Yoongi had been holding forgotten at their feet.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, hot breath rustling in Jimin’s ear.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Jimin asks coyly through his panting, “Why are you watching me, Min Yoongi-ssi?”

“You’re wearing my jacket, Park Jimin-ssi,” the fae responds without missing a beat. He gives out a short, labored laugh. “With my phone. In the pocket. I couldn’t call a cab.”

As if to prove his point, Yoongi slowly moves his hand out from under Jimin’s shirt and reaches into the jacket pocket, pulling out a silver phone. He waves it in between their chests before sliding it into his own jeans’ back pocket.

Jimin, still breathing heavily, huffs out a long laugh. Then his smile drops and he leans further into Yoongi’s ear, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s shoulders, and says softly, “Use that phone, hyung, and take me home.”

Yoongi is pretty sure the higher functioning parts of his brain shut off minutes ago when Park Jimin started kissing him. Now all he seems capable of is feeling the burning on his skin as one of Jimin’s hands trails up from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling with his nearly-shoulder-length hair there. Every hot spot along his body igniting where Jimin is pinning him against the wall, panting into his ear, his wet, hot breath sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind there is a niggling sensation of something forgotten, but Yoongi could not care less. That is, until he realizes Jimin has his eyes trained on him, waiting for a response to something. Did Jimin ask him a question?

Yoongi’s eyes move slowly from Jimin’s kiss-swollen lips to his eyes. Jimin raises his eyebrows expectantly. Yoongi manages to breathe out a quiet, “Oh.”

Then he ducks down and grabs the water bottles from the floor. He opens one and hands it to Jimin, who takes it with a confused look on his face. Then he opens the second one and chugs it in one go. Glancing at Jimin, he sees the younger man watching him drink. Then Jimin takes a tentative sip of his own water.

When Yoongi is done with his water, he pulls out his phone and opens the taxi app, ordering a taxi for a few blocks away.

“Drink up,” Yoongi says, gesturing at Jimin’s water bottle, before slipping his phone back into his back pocket. “Cab’ll be here in 10 minutes.”

Jimin gives a small nod and it’s Yoongi’s turn to watch as the other drinks down the water in huge gulps. Once Jimin finishes, Yoongi takes the bottle from him and grabs Jimin’s hand with his free one. Pulling him along, around the edge of the dance floor, he only pauses once to throw the empty bottles in his left hand into the large bin.

The air is cool as they step through the warehouse door into the night. Yoongi leads them to a small alleyway, away from the noise and lights of the party. Jimin follows obediently, fingers laced tightly with the fae’s. It’s quiet here, only the occasional siren can be heard in the distance. Through the alley, they step onto another block, still within industrial buildings, but the street is better lit.

They come to a stop at a street corner, where Yoongi had told the taxi to pick them up. He leans in and presses his lips lightly to Jimin’s temple.

“Are you cold?” he asks quietly.

Jimin shakes his head, but leans into Yoongi a little further, and Yoongi takes that as an invitation to wrap an arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

“Is this okay?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi blows out a puff of air before he says, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?”

Jimin laughs, the sound ringing out through the still night air.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,” he admits, his cheeks flaming. Yoongi feels like his insides are melting.

Instead of screaming like he wants to, Yoongi smiles, his fingers digging a bit into the soft part of Jimin’s waist where his hand is resting under the leather jacket.

“Likewise,” Yoongi says softly, before leaning in again to kiss Jimin once more.

They stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms and lips, until the sound of a car approaching breaks them apart. Yoongi pulls away, his hand reluctantly slipping from Jimin’s waist.

Yoongi steps up to the backdoor of the cab and pauses before he opens it. He turns to Jimin and asks, “Just for the sake of clear communication, when you asked me to take you home, did you mean for me to be a perfect gentleman and drop you off at your home? Or did you mean for me to be less-than-gentlemanly and bring you to my home?”

Jimin blinks at him and then bites his lower lip.

“And to be clear,” Yoongi says before Jimin can respond. “I am very in favor of option two. But can concede you’ve had a rough night and might just want to be alone in your own place.”

Time feels like it slows down as Yoongi watches Jimin’s face transform from a nervous pout to hold a full, toothy smile, eyes pressing into crescents. He didn’t think this plane of existence could contain a being so beautiful. Jimin reaches out and threads his fingers with Yoongi’s and says simply, “I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the words, while Jimin takes a step back, allowing Yoongi to open the cab door. Jimin brushes past him, sliding onto the leather seat, keeping their fingers tangled together, gently pulling Yoongi to follow him into the backseat of the cab.

As soon as Yoongi gives his address to the driver, he half-expects Jimin to be all over him. Instead, Jimin shifts slightly and tilts his head to rest it on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi feels a warmth spread through his chest as he glances down at Jimin, who is looking out his window at the city lights as they drive. The only sound in the car is the slight hum of the tires on the asphalt and Jimin’s breathing beside him. Yoongi finds himself looking over at his companion’s profile, admiring it from his peripheral vision. Looking back out the window of the car, Yoongi can detect the faint greys of pre-dawn light filtering over the city.

Jimin feels his apprehension grow as the car ride continues across the city. When the bigger skyscrapers and city buildings are in the rearview, he starts to wonder where exactly they are going. He regrets not paying more attention to the address Yoongi had given the driver. Was he about to be ax-murdered on the outskirts of Seoul? He realizes ever since showing up to the Friends Only, he’s been entirely too reckless. This might be coming back to bite him in the ass now.

The car slows as it pulls off a main thoroughfare into a winding cobblestone road meandering among older homes nestled into a hillside at the base of one of Seoul’s many mountains. The fading city lights give way to the twinkling stars as Jimin takes in the beauty around him. The early morning sky is a deep navy blue, the stars are pinpricks in the darkness, and the moon is a coy smile of white light.

Just as he’s about to ask where they are going, the car comes to a stop at the corner of a cluster of older homes. It’s a nice neighborhood. Quiet and tucked away.

After thanking the driver, Yoongi, who Jimin realizes is still holding his hand on his thigh, opens his door and pulls Jimin along behind him as he exits. He waits as Jimin unfolds himself through the door, before shutting the cab door behind him. Then without a word, he pulls Jimin along the small street towards more houses.

“Wait here first,” Yoongi whispers. He puts his free hand on Jimin’s shoulder and turns him gently, positioning him so he’s looking down the hill back towards the city.

The view is gorgeous, of course, but he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be seeing something in particular. So, he waits. His back is almost touching Yoongi’s back and he’s tempted to lean himself backwards into the fae. Instead he focuses on the feeling of heat filling the gap between their bodies and the warmth where their hands are still entwined, where Yoongi’s hand never left his shoulder.

Then, Jimin sees what they have been waiting for. As Jimin’s eyes are trained on the horizon, he catches a subtle change in the sky. He gasps softly as the hint of orange and pink paint the sky with delicate brushstrokes, illuminating the darkness. The hues blend together to create an otherworldly skyline, as if he is staring at a painting instead of a real view. He thinks Seoul has never looked more beautiful.

Yoongi leans forward into Jimin’s back, hooking his chin over Jimin’s shoulder, his hand still wrapped around Jimin’s. Both men stand in silence until it’s impossible to ignore the beauty of what they are witnessing—the sun’s rays slice through the darkness like a curtain of gold and silver being pulled aside to reveal a beautiful new day. The sky gradually lightens from deep colors to pastels.

With one last squeeze, Yoongi takes his hand from Jimin’s shoulder and pulls him towards the tall stone wall surrounding a house behind them.

If someone had asked Jimin yesterday what he thought Agust D’s dwelling place looks like, he would probably have said an upscale, modern apartment—maybe in Hannam the Hill or somewhere equally swanky. Definitely something Jimin would never dream of being able to afford on his measly dance choreographer’s salary.

Needless to say, the hanok in front of him, only visible once Yoongi pushes a metal door in a stone wall back, is not at all what he pictured. The outside of the building, while clearly clean and well kept, makes him feel like he’s been transported back in time. To get to the hanok, they first step through a traditional wooden moon gate, just inside the metal doorway. They are greeted by the sight of a stunning madang, a courtyard bordered by the wooden framework of the main house, which stands as a protective guardian of this sacred space.

Jimin takes in the scene with wide eyes, struck by an immense sense of calm that he hadn’t expected. He feels Yoongi’s presence behind him and for a moment, the two stand in complete stillness.

The surface underfoot is composed of carefully laid stone tiles, creating a smooth and even pathway leading from the moon gate to the heart of the madang. Along the edges of the path, patches of soft green moss, almost glowing in the dawn light, create a harmonious contrast against the sturdy stone. At the center of the madang is a small pond with a small leafless tree bending gracefully over the water. There is a fountain bubbling quietly, creating a tranquil atmosphere in the whole courtyard.

As they slowly walk further into the courtyard, Jimin trails his eyes across the potted plants and delicate stonework up to the hanok buildings. The house itself is a clean light grey—almost white—with dark hefty timber beams as the frame. The gently sloping roof is made of dark grey tiles, accentuated by the same dark wooden beams at the eaves.

Yoongi leads Jimin down the pathway to a door to the left of the hanok. He slides it open and they toe their shoes off at the step. The doorway leads them into an updated kitchen area. The kitchen is modern enough, with an island and state-of-the-art appliances, but still possesses touches of history, like the wooden beams supporting the ceiling.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Yoongi asks, going towards what looks like a mini-fridge built under the island counter.

“Holy shit, hyung,” Jimin finally manages to get out. “Does having a magic fairytale hanok come with being a fae?”

Yoongi barks out a laugh as he pulls out glass bottles of sparkling water from the fridge.

“I’m serious!” Jimin pouts. “I figured you probably had money, but what the fuck?”

Yoongi shrugs with a lop-sided smile, handing Jimin one of the bottles of water, and says, “What can I say? I like beautiful things?”

Jimin nods, taking a sip of his water, nose wrinkling at the bubbles. He says, “It is beautiful. Definitely beats my little studio apartment.”

For a few minutes, they fall into a silence, drinking their water. Jimin plays mindlessly with the paper label on his bottle. His eyes dart up to look at Yoongi’s face and he’s startled to see the fae is already looking at him. Jimin swallows and feels his face heating as the look Yoongi gives him sets him on fire.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Yoongi takes a step closer. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s for a moment. Jimin’s heart races and he feels a shiver run down his spine at the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze. They move closer to each other, until they’re standing just a breath apart. Jimin is so tense with anticipation, he thinks he’s going to rip apart. His eyes focus on Yoongi’s lips and it takes him a moment to realize the fae is asking him a question.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin blinks, then wrenches his eyes away from Yoongi’s lips to his eyes. “Show me the bedroom?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch into a small smile, as if he’s amused by Jimin’s straightforwardness. The next thing Jimin knows, his hand is engulfed by Yoongi’s and he’s being pulled down the open walkway of the hanok that connects each of the rooms until they come to another sliding door.

Yoongi doesn’t waste time opening it and pulling Jimin inside. The natural light, still dim with sunrise, filters through white billowy curtains allowing Jimin to see that the bedroom is just as stunning as the rest of the hanok. In the center of the room, against the back wall, is a raised platform holding a luxurious looking yo mattress. On either side of it are delicate wooden bedside tables with sleek lamps. Everything is creams and greys and accented with dark wood.

Yoongi closes the door and steps towards Jimin until they’re standing a breath apart. Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from Yoongi’s body and he swallows, trying to fight against the urge to close the distance between them. He thinks he might want to just drown himself in Yoongi. Why is he resisting? He doesn’t quite remember.

“Is this okay?” Yoongi asks as he reaches out a hand to cup Jimin’s face.

Jimin hums and nods faintly, leaning into Yoongi’s palm. He closes his eyes and just feels everything. His skin is on fire. Everywhere. He’s in flames. He holds onto some kind of restraint for only a moment longer and then he lets himself fall.

*~*

Yoongi feels Jimin’s lips on his before he even realizes what’s happening. He forgets everything except the way Jimin’s hands feel in his hair, the way their mouths fit together. He gasps into Jimin’s mouth, deepening the kiss, and pulls him closer until there’s no space left between them. Jimin moans softly as he melts into Yoongi, his hands sliding down from Yoongi’s hair to grip onto his hips. Yoongi’s body is on fire and all he wants is more, more, more.

They pull away from each other only for a moment, long enough for Jimin to shrug himself out of Yoongi’s leather jacket. It hits the floor with a soft ‘thunk,’ making Yoongi realize how quiet the room is. He thinks maybe they should stop, should slow down. However, Jimin doesn’t seem to have such reservations, leaning right back into the fae’s space as soon as the jacket is off.

“Hyung,” Jimin whispers into Yoongi’s ear.

Yoongi hums, not wanting to stop as he kisses across Jimin’s cheek down to his jawline.

“I need you closer.”

Yoongi feels his breath hitch as Jimin takes his turn and trails hot, wet kisses down the column of Yoongi’s neck. Almost without thought, Yoongi’s hands are sliding up under Jimin’s shirt, pressing into the soft skin of his torso. Then Jimin is pushing or pulling—Yoongi can’t tell—him back towards the bed, never breaking their kiss until they’re both tumbling down onto the luxurious mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Yoongi is pushed onto his back and Jimin straddles him, rocking his hips just enough to have Yoongi gasping and cursing under his breath. Yoongi’s hands grab at the hem of Jimin’s shirt, pushing up until he’s revealing more and more honey colored skin, then sitting up to reach Jimin’s shoulders, and then Jimin is helping him get it over his head. Without pause, Jimin is pulling Yoongi’s tee off before Yoongi falls back into the mattress again with a groan. Jimin follows him down until he’s pressed against him, chest to chest, kissing Yoongi’s face, neck, collarbones.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out, “Fuck.”

Then Jimin is back with his lips on Yoongi’s. He’s moving slower now, less fiery desperation, more savoring each touch that adds to the arousal pooling in Yoongi’s gut and threatening to explode out of every cell in his body. Jimin is toying with him, edging him with slow rocks of his hips, the fabric of their pants almost painful between them. Yoongi thinks he’s going to combust.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says again between kisses.

Jimin hums in question, but doesn’t stop kissing another trail down Yoongi’s neck. He stops occasionally to nip at the sensitive skin or run his tongue over a spot. Yoongi isn’t sure when, but at some point his eyes shut and all his senses dedicate themselves to feeling the fire burning every place Jimin touches.

Then Jimin’s hips are still, but his hands are everywhere moving up and down Yoongi’s torso reverently, as if he’s touching something precious. Each caress is tantalizing yet gentle, as if Jimin is trying to commit the feel of Yoongi’s body to memory.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face and pulls him in for the most tender kiss they’ve shared so far. When he finally pulls away just enough that their breaths linger together in reverie.

“Tell me you want this,” Jimin whispers.

Yoongi is pretty sure the air has been sucked out of the room, but he manages to whisper back, “I want this.”

Jimin smiles against his lips as he ducks in for another kiss. Then he pulls back a fraction, watching Yoongi’s face and running a hand through Yoongi’s hair.

“Tell me you want me ,” Yoongi whispers, his lungs feeling constricted. He does not know where this vulnerability and insecurity is coming from, but he can’t stop it spilling out of him.

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Yoongi’s eyes and says with a soft smile, “I want you , hyung.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says into a long exhale, the tightness in his chest reigniting the fire the tenderness had dampened.

“Tell me you want me, hyung,” Jimin echoes. “Without magic or spells.”

Yoongi’s hands tighten on Jimin’s hips where they had been resting. “I want you, Jimin-ah. I promise I will never use magic without your consent. I promise I can make you feel so good, you’ll never want another partner without a single symbol or spell.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to let out a long exhale and sigh, “Oh.”

Jimin pulls back just enough for Yoongi to get a good look at his face and the fire in his eyes. His lips are parted slightly, breathing shallowly as he focuses on undoing Yoongi’s pants, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

Yoongi trails his fingers down Jimin’s arms, admiring the flex of his biceps as he works Yoongi’s pants’ zipper down. Then, Jimin is scooting back and pushing the fabric away and off Yoongi’s hips with a gentle pull and a whisper of noise that might be appreciation or something else altogether.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face in both hands again and pulls him into another kiss. This one is slow and deep like they have all the time in the world, exploring each other with their tongues.

Jimin hums softly into Yoongi’s mouth before breaking away for a few seconds to whisper against his lips, “Hyung,” then sinking back into another kiss until their noses brush gently against each other when they part again.

Then Yoongi reaches for Jimin’s pants and helps him rid himself of them, the tight pants taking a bit of work to get off. They giggle at a first failed attempt before they finally join the floor with the rest of the forgotten clothes.

Once they are both naked, Yoongi pushes Jimin back into the mattress and takes a moment to appreciate the man in front of him. Then he trails kisses down Jimin’s neck and chest continuing lower still until he reaches Jimin’s waist. He pauses only for a moment before continuing to work his skin with his lips, tongue, and teeth, paying special attention to his hip bones before moving down to Jimin’s inner thighs. As soon as Yoongi’s hot breath ghosts across the sensitive skin of Jimin’s cock, Jimin bucks up with a gasp at the contact, arching his back in response while Yoongi moves even lower and starts tracing circles around the base of Jimin’s shaft with his tongue already swollen with its own want for attention.

Jimin lets out a low moan as Yoongi sucks gently on the tip, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through him from head to toe. Jimin’s hips buck involuntarily as he tangles one hand in Yoongi’s hair while running circles on pale skin with the other as Yoongi continues to work him slowly and deliberately.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses as Yoongi starts bobbing up and down on him.

“Fuck... hyung,” Jimin says again, voice cracking as Yoongi twists his way up the length and then back down with a wet sound. Jimin’s hips jerk and he groans. Yoongi’s tongue moves all around him as he sucks down Jimin’s entire length. Jimin groans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“Hyung,” Jimin gasps, voice strained, as Yoongi sinks back down and starts bobbing up and down faster.

Jimin’s body shakes with pleasure as Yoongi tightens his grip on Jimin’s waist, bringing him in deeper. A moment later, he comes with a muffled cry into the sheets, covering Yoongi’s hand where it’s wrapped around him, pressed into the aftershocks of orgasm.

Yoongi slowly pulls himself up and collapses onto the bed beside Jimin. He drapes an arm over Jimin, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead tenderly. Jimin smiles blissfully before turning onto his side to face Yoongi.

Yoongi kisses Jimin softly on the lips before placing a slow gentle kiss just below his ear. His lips move down to Jimin’s neck and chest as his hands start tracing gentle circles along Jimin’s skin. Jimin melts into Yoongi’s touch, breathing heavily against him as Yoongi continues exploring every inch of him with both hands and lips, memorizing every curve and dip of skin.

When Yoongi feels Jimin’s skin begin to prickle in goosebumps against his touch he deepens the contact, twining one hand with Jimin’s and pulling their bodies together, very slowly, as their arousal begins to reignite. Jimin breathes out a whimper of sound and presses himself closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder.

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes out in what almost sounds like a whine.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums, now kissing along Jimin’s collar bone.

“Please,” Jimin actually whines this time. “Hyung-”

Yoongi kisses Jimin’s mouth fully, breath mingling between them because really all he can think about is getting back inside of Jimin as soon as possible. But then he pulls away, slowly trailing kisses across Jimin’s cheek until he reaches his ear.

Yoongi kisses him one last time before pulling back again, taking a moment to reach over for the lube and condoms tucked into the nearest nightstand. He drops the condom on the mattress and snaps open the lube. He looks to Jimin’s face, waits until Jimin’s eager nods give him the signal to keep going.

Yoongi slicks up his fingers and reaches for Jimin, pressing in just barely. He pauses a moment, gazing down at Jimin to see if he’s still okay. Jimin simply nods but it becomes clear that he needs more as his hips begin to shift impatiently against the mattress. Yoongi presses in farther and Jimin gasps at the intrusion. Yoongi moves his other hand down to rest on Jimin’s hip, giving him something to hold onto while he eases his finger in slowly.

Jimin lets out a half-strangled moan as Yoongi presses his lips against Jimin’s. His tongue forages for the delicate sweet spots of Jimin’s mouth, sending sparks of pleasure running through his veins. Yoongi moves his hands over every inch of Jimin’s body, slowly readying him as their kiss deepens with each wave of passion cascading between them.

“Now, hyung,” Jimin croaks desperately. “I need you now.”

Then, in the blink of an eye, Jimin is grabbing the condom, ripping it open, and rolling it down Yoongi’s length. He pulls Yoongi down on top of him, as Yoongi works some extra lube on himself.

Jimin rocks his hips forward, pressing himself against Yoongi’s tip. Then, he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s back and pulls him in closer as he eases Yoongi in inch by perfect inch. They both let out loud moans at the contact, surrounded by the noises of pleasure of their contact.

Yoongi stays still for a few moments afraid he’s not going to last another moment like this. Everything is so hot. He slowly starts to move against Jimin with a delicate rocking of his hips. They’re moving together now, limbs entwined groins pressed together as he thrusts into Jimin over and over.

Jimin groans deep in his throat as Yoongi slides into him again and again, faster now as they move against each other in sync. Jimin plants his feet firmly on the mattress and stretches up to brace his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. Allowing him to pull Yoongi even farther in until Yoongi is buried all the way inside in one complete fluid motion.

Jimin’s walls clamp around Yoongi in a tight constricting fit. He grunts and fucks Jimin hard, trying his best to make the other man see stars. Then he leans down and finds Jimin’s mouth, lips crashing together as they continue to move together in a frenzy of lust and passion.

Yoongi swallows down Jimin’s groans as he lifts his hips into each thrust. In another minute, Jimin arches beneath him as he comes again with a shudder, moaning out Yoongi’s name as he comes. Yoongi keeps moving until he reaches his own peak, coming undone at the seams as he fills the condom deep inside Jimin’s body.

The two of them collapse together on the bed breathing heavily. Before Yoongi lets himself drift off to sleep, he gets himself up to the bathroom to wash up and bring a wet cloth back to Jimin to tidy him up as well. By the time Yoongi is finished Jimin has started to drift off to sleep, so works quickly to clean everything up. He throws the cloth to the side and he climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers around them both and nuzzles against Jimin’s hair, inhaling deeply, and tangling his limbs around Jimin.

His mind drifts as he watches the white curtains flutter in the breeze through the bedroom window. He will never understand the fae who choose to stay in The Dreaming over here. Humans feel and love so intensely. Without these momentous moments, the vividness of human life, how can anyone appreciate the mundane? Yoongi can never imagine having anything but this, living any way but this, loving any way but this. And that is how he drifts off to sleep as the morning songbirds finish up their calls and day truly starts over Seoul.

*~*

Jimin opens his eyes to the sound of low-toned chimes. He is alone on the yo mattress, but he can feel where Yoongi had been lying next to him. The space is still warm, and when Jimin presses his fingers into it, he can even feel Yoongi’s lingering body heat. He slips from the bed and picks up the folded clothes, a simple t-shirt and joggers, that Yoongi had left for him. He slides them over his naked skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. The fabric is soft and smells lightly of citrus, which makes Jimin smile as he heads to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out toward the madang.

Jimin pauses when he sees Yoongi standing at the moon gate with two tall people. Jimin stays back, not wanting to intrude in the tense conversation he can feel emanating from the group. The two people in front of Yoongi are wearing flowy silver robes, their blue hair braided and fastened up in intricate styles. They have sharp features, including long, pointed ears donned with silver rings. Their faces are neutral, but there’s an intense feeling radiating off them that Jimin can’t quite place.

The sight of the courtyard is all rather picturesque with the clearly otherworldly beings standing with Yoongi in front of the moon gate, pond and tree before them, bubbling waters creating a false sense of serenity.

“I really do think it’s in your best interest to accept our invitation, cousin,” one of the blue-haired people said.

“And I told you to fuck off,” growls Yoongi. “I am not accepting your invitation now, nor will I be accepting any in the future.”

Jimin thinks he should duck back inside and not eavesdrop on this conversation anymore, but is distracted then by the tinkling of a little bell. He looks down to see a small black cat rubbing along his shin and then winding around his legs.

“Oh, hello, pretty,” Jimin says brightly. “Where did you come from?”

“I said fucking leave and take that with you,” Yoongi says pointing straight at Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes go round and he feels a pang of fear at Yoongi’s harsh tone. Before he can fully process what’s happening, Yoongi is striding across the madang towards him.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, his tone surprisingly sweet considering the look of irritation on his face. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and I’ll be there in a moment? I just need to kick out these unwanted house guests.”

Jimin nods dumbly and watches as Yoongi kicks towards the cat, who hisses and runs towards the two people still standing at the moon gate. The cat sits next to their feet, eyes narrowing at Yoongi.

“I do hope you take time to reconsider, cousin,” one of the people says. “You cannot simply run away from your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Yoongi says confidently. “I hope the door hits you on the way out.”

Then he whirls around to take Jimin’s hand and lead him towards the door to the kitchen. Once seated on a wooden barstool, Jimin watches as Yoongi pulls out a number of containers from the refrigerator. Then he watches as the fae begins to heat various dishes up and starts to set a variety of options out along the bar counter. Jimin waits patiently until he is done serving breakfast—or lunch, really, since it’s already afternoon— and they are well into tucking into their food to ask any of the burning questions on his mind.

“Who were those people? Fae?”

“They,” Yoongi says and waves his hand holding his chopsticks vaguely in front of himself as if trying to shoo away an annoying bug, “are the Sidhe. So, yes, they are fae. And fucking the worst kind, too.”

“And you were fighting with them?”

Yoongi coughs. “I wouldn’t say– no, not fighting exactly? More like strongly disagreeing with them? There has been a push to have me back at Court and I have zero intention of leaving this plane, maybe ever, so…they can keep pining away for me, I guess.”

Jimin picks at some of his kimchi, brow wrinkled in thought. After a moment, he asks, “Why don’t you think you’ll leave here?”

“The Dreaming,” Yoongi sighs, but a faint smile pulls at his lips, “is a very beautiful place. But it’s almost too beautiful. The Dreaming is dull. Lifeless. It’s like nothing ever happens there. Emotions, feelings, sensations are just so much more intense here in The Crossing, and the fae can experience that, but only here.”

Jimin sits with his mouth hanging open slightly as he processes this new information. He’s annoyed at himself for not paying attention more to all things related to fae. He doesn’t exactly want to give away how much he doesn’t know.

“They called you cousin,” Jimin finally says, hoping for a safe topic that doesn’t belie too much of his ignorance.

“Ah,” Yoongi says, nodding and swallowing down a spoonful of rice. “They call every other fae cousin, really. But in my case it’s actually true, since I’m half Sidhe.”

Jimin’s brow wrinkles further as he’s suddenly reminded of a forgotten school lesson. “I didn’t think Sidhe mingled outside of their own. In fact, I didn’t even know they came to this plane.”

“Well, my parents seem to be the exception that proves the rule, with my mother straying into a human’s bed,” Yoongi says with a twist of his lips. Jimin can’t tell if he’s displeased or amused. Maybe both. “But you’re right. Sidhe mostly only travel to The Crossing to retrieve fae and issue invitations to Court.”

“Oh,” Jimin says. “So, that’s what they were talking about? You being invited to Court? Like some kind of official summons?”

Yoongi laughs and gives Jimin an almost fond smile, and then leans forward, bringing a hand to his mouth, like he’s sharing a secret. “Doesn’t really matter. I’ve no intention of going. I like it here.”

Jimin feels his heart clench. He’s overcome with a desire to make sure he does what he can to stay in Yoongi’s orbit. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. Yesterday, he was sure all fae were duplicitous, manipulative assholes. Today he’s entertaining thoughts of having the fae before him be something more than a one night stand.

Yoongi’s phone vibrates from the counter, where he apparently left it. He gets up to check, brow furrowed as he scrolls through what Jimin imagines to be many messages.

That reminds Jimin to check his own phone, shut off the night before. His friends are probably worried after his sudden departure last night. He feels a stab in his gut when he remembers why he left suddenly last night. In the light of day, in this beautiful hanok, in front of a fae that has done nothing but be honest and kind to him, Jimin feels a small pang of guilt for his reaction. Still, they should have told him from the beginning.

Still, Jimin decides to go find his phone and check his messages. Back in the bedroom, he sits on the edge of the mattress while his phone boots up. He waits for the messages to come. But there is only one. There is tightness in his chest, as he waits, hoping maybe he just didn’t have enough signal or something.

He feels sadness cascade over him as he clicks into the only message—from Jungkook—that simply reads, “I’m sorry hyung.” His finger hovers over the call button, but then he decides to wait. He’d call later, when he’s had more time to think.

“Shall I take you home?” Yoongi says. He’s standing in the open doorway, leaning on the frame. He’s a vision in the afternoon sunlight, all soft in cozy grey clothes, the green of the courtyard behind him.

Jimin takes a deep breath and buries the sadness, anger, and guilt to be unpacked and dealt with later. He pastes a cheeky smile on his face and says, “Only if I can get your number first, hyung.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure Jimin was actually going to text him back. Not after the absolute shitshow that was the Friends Only and then whatever it is they are calling his spending the night. No, he absolutely never expects to hear from the man again. And yet. And yet, Yoongi finds he cannot stop thinking about him.

If he didn’t know better, he might start worrying the man had spelled him in some way. If anything, he is starting to understand why all of his friends have been so protective of him. There’s some kind of magnetism to Park Jimin.

Yoongi isn’t even thinking about the sex—well, not thinking exclusively about the sex, maybe—but rather catches himself wondering what Jimin might be doing at any particular moment. While Yoongi is picking up lunch for Namjoon and himself, he wonders if Jimin is eating now, too. While Yoongi is washing his face and brushing his teeth before bed, he wonders if Jimin is already asleep. Stupid, cheesy shit like that that Yoongi would never admit to in a million years out loud.

That’s why, after a full week passes, when Yoongi was working late in his studio, he ignores the buzzing of his phone. This track is almost done, he’s just looking for the perfect sound to complete the texture he’s going for. He’s proud of himself, really, he’s gone almost a half day without thinking about Jimin—does thinking about not thinking about Jimin count as thinking about Jimin or—, hyperfocusing on this track instead. Sometimes he thanks the goddesses he was blessed with very human ADHD.

With a feeling of victory blooming in his chest, he finds the right gong sound he needs and slots it into the track. He plays the whole thing back with a faint smile on his face. Perfect. He can tell this is going to be a hit. Yoongi saves the file, renders it down to a wav file, and emails it to Namjoon and the other PD on the team. Then he pushes himself back from the desk, chair gliding smoothly across the wood floor of his studio. He leans back and stares up at the ceiling for a while before he starts to wonder what time it is.

Yoongi grabs his phone off his desk with a flourish, twirling his desk chair around in a circle. As he’s spinning, his phone lights up. 2:00am. Not bad. He definitely thought it was way later. Cool. Then he slams his feet into the ground, coming to a complete halt, as he taps on the text message notification and sees the sender is Jimin.

“Can we meet,” is all the message says. Yoongi feels a little coil of anxiety in his gut.

He texts back immediately a “sure thing, when is good” and stares at his own words in embarrassment debating whether he should be allowed access to any communication devices.

“Why are you awake?” comes the next text from Jimin.

Yoongi bites back a smile. He shoots back, “Why are YOU awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” Jimin sends back.

“Just finished work,” Yoongi replies.

“Hyung...it’s a Saturday-no, now it’s a Sunday morning,” Jimin writes.

Yoongi chuckles. “Gotta work when inspiration strikes.”

“So, can we meet?” Jimin writes after a few moments.

Yoongi chews on his bottom lip. He eyes the time, calculates how quickly he can get home and sleep, before writing back, “Sure, Bubbles and Brew 11am?”

“K,” is all Jimin responds with.

Yoongi debates the entire time he's packing up whether to write a good night message, but decides against it by the time he's flicking off his studio's lights. No need to make things weird. More weird, whatever.

Jimin almost bails on the whole “meet Yoongi and see about maybe seeing him again” plan four separate times before he finds himself standing in front of Bubbles and Brew a good fifteen minutes early. He hesitates outside the door, feeling his heart race in his chest. This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself. He’s already mad at the five apparent-fae in his life, he shouldn’t be inviting another in. And yet, here he is, sliding into a booth towards the back of the café, and pretending to read through the extensive menu.

“Hey there,” comes a deep, gravely voice and soft rustle of fabric as Yoongi settles into the booth across from Jimin.

The first thing Jimin thinks is “soft.” Yoongi’s hair is clearly freshly washed and dried, but then unstyled. He’s makeup free and wearing could only be described as one step above pajamas, but perhaps not actually meant to leave the house in, dark sweats and well-worn Epik High hoodie. Jimin is overwhelmed with the desire to fold himself into all that softness and maybe never leave.

Instead of launching himself into the fae, he manages to croak out a “hey” instead. Very smooth.

Thankfully a waitress comes by and takes their drink orders before the awkward stretches on for too long. But she’s gone all too quickly and Jimin is left tracing his eyes along the knots in the wood of the tabletop.

“You needed to see me?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin glances up and Yoongi is eyeing him curiously. He clears his throat and answers, “Yeah, I mean. Need might be too strong of a word. I wanted– no, yeah, yeah– I wanted to see you.”

Jimin can feel the unforgiving red blush burn across his face all the way up to his ears. Yeah, this is going incredibly well. He watches Yoongi’s face like watching a trainwreck. He can’t look away even though he knows this is all going to end in disaster. However, Yoongi surprises him. He smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up higher than the other.

“I wanted to see you too,” he says softly, but confidently. Jimin’s heart skips a beat at the words, the warmth in Yoongi’s eyes sending a thrill through him.

The silence stretches between them as the waitress brings their drinks, an iced coffee for Yoongi and a strawberry bubble tea for Jimin. She sets them down and disappears without comment. The conversation starts off with Yoongi asking about Jimin’s work as a choreographer. Jimin, always eager to talk about his passion, explains the details of what he’s working on. He talks about the different movements he has and how they tell a story, getting more animated as he continues.

Jimin feels a warmth in his chest at the way Yoongi seems entranced by his words as if he’s never heard someone talk about dancing with such enthusiasm and admiration before.

Jimin then steers the conversation towards Yoongi and his new song he’s working on. He asks all kinds of questions leading Yoongi to open up about his process and what kind of music he likes to create.

Before either of them know it, two hours have gone by in what feels like no time at all. Jimin can’t believe how easily the conversation has been flowing between them. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to be so talkative and honest, or that they would have this much in common. He starts to think that maybe he’d been wrong about fae all along.

Maybe, just maybe, Jimin concedes that he's let a few bad fae influence his judgment of the whole. Yoongi has been nothing but kind, open, funny, protective. If anything, he reminds Jimin of his friends, who, turns out, are also fae—that thought has his stomach dropping. Jimin starts to think maybe he's the one that is going to need to apologize. Of course, there's the matter of them having lied to him. Perhaps lied by omission, but still lied. Maybe he's still a little angry and a lot hurt.

As the conversation dies down and their drinks are empty, Jimin can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that it’s over.

“Can we do this again?” Jimin asks as they wave the waitress over to pay for their drinks.

Yoongi, busy using his phone to pay,—“hyung pays, don’t argue, Jimin-ah”—hums in agreement. Once the waitress has cleared their empty cups away and wished them a good rest of their day, Yoongi says with a blush to his cheeks but no hesitation in his voice, “How about dinner? Sometime this week?”

And, as if by magic, but not the bad kind, Jimin is sure, that is how Park Jimin, human, and Min Yoongi, fae, start dating. Or, at the very least, start meeting regularly for coffee and meals and blush-filled chats.

They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. No labels yet. Mostly they are just talking and sharing stories, listening to music and watching movies, doing a little bit of kissing. Okay, maybe a lot of kissing and occasionally a lot more than kissing. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever felt lighter. He might even have the clichéd spring in his step—nauseating.

He still has worries, like getting this album finished for the latest idol group debuting in a few weeks or how Jimin still hasn’t really talked to his friends. If he’s honest, both are keeping him up at night at this point.

Yoongi sees the impact of Jimin’s prolonged silence on the other fae. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook are especially despondent. However, none of them seem to want to make the first move. Hoseok keeps saying “Jimin needs his space” and Yoongi is about ready to lock them all in a room until they talk it out. Yoongi isn’t a meddler. He hates meddlers. But everyone is hurting and it’s stupid.

That’s why, when he gets the anonymous text message about another Friends Only, he lights up in excitement. Jimin, given the horrendous events of the last Friends Only, might be harder to convince to attend, but it’s the perfect place for everyone to meet up and hash things out once and for all.

As luck would have it, Yoongi is already picking up Jimin for lunch. He nervously twiddles with his phone as he sits in the driver’s seat of his car out front of the younger’s dance studio, waiting for him to come out. Yoongi knows he has to approach this conversation tactfully. Yes, tactfully.

He pulls out the small jewelry box from the glovebox and pops the lid open. A thin silver chain necklace with a pendant shaped like a graceful dragon made of interwoven lines whose body wound protectively around most of a green jade orb. He fingers at it anxiously, feeling the spells flutter and react to his touch.

Yoongi snaps the box shut as the passenger door opens and Jimin drops into the seat with a tired sigh.

“Long morning?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin stretches his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion. “It was good, but tiring. I’m so sore. What’s that?”

Jimin is eying the jewelry box in Yoongi’s hand.

“Ah– uh, this?” Yoongi stammers. He vaguely recalls about 30 seconds ago he was determined to be tactful.

“Yeah, that. What is it?” Jimin repeats, now pointing with his finger at the box.

Yoongi hands it over with a sheepish smile. “It’s for you.”

Jimin looks at him in surprise before opening the box and gasping. The dark silver dragon glitters in the sun.

“Before you put it on,” Yoongi starts.

Jimin freezes where he sits, hands still pinching at the clasp of the necklace.

“It’s uh– It’s spelled?” Yoongi says, though he sounds so unsure it comes out as a question.

Jimin drops the necklace into his lap. “What do you mean it’s spelled?”

Yoongi flounders, flapping his hands trying to assuage the other and gain back his composure. He’s not sure he’s successful on either count, judging by the angry glint in Jimin’s eyes now.

“I– okay, it’s warded. There are symbols of protection embedded in the chain, the pendant. I just thought,” Yoongi struggles to find the words. He glances at Jimin’s face and instead of seeing anger, all he sees is soft adoration and patience. Okay. “The wards will make it so no one can spell you without your explicit permission. And they cannot take the necklace off. Only you can. That way– that way, you can maybe feel a little bit safer. From us.”

His words trail off and end in an almost-whisper. He keeps his eyes firmly on Jimin’s hands, which are lightly brushing the silver chain of the necklace in his lap.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, running a finger over the jade. He links the necklace around his neck, pulling down the car’s visor and flipping open the mirror, admiring how the pendant looks against the dip between his collarbones.

Yoongi allows himself a small grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“So,” Jimin says brightly as he pulls on his seatbelt. “Where are we going for lunch?”

Jimin can tell Yoongi is nervous. He watches as the older man picks at his noodles with his chopsticks, other hand drumming fingers on the tabletop. He’s like a ball of energy waiting to explode.

“Is something wrong, hyung?” Jimin finally asks. He’d finished his food several minutes ago, but Yoongi, eyes focused on his food, is still just pushing his meal around in his bowl.

The question seems to startle Yoongi. He looks up, surprise on his face, as he takes in the fact that he’s been zoning out and Jimin has already eaten.

“Right, yeah,” Yoongi says. “I’m fine. I did have something I wanted to ask though.”

Jimin feels a bit apprehensive and he plays with the pendant of his new necklace. He knows it’s strange to get such a nice gift, out of the blue, especially when they aren’t really a gift-giving couple. He mind whirls as he tries to guess what’s going on, but nothing he comes up with makes sense.

“I was kind of hoping you might come with me to the Friends Only tonight?” Yoongi finally asks, voice quiet.

“Oh.”

“I know– we didn’t really ever talk about the last one. And it wasn’t great, obviously, what happened. But we met? So, I guess that is good? And I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to see– to go,” Yoongi finishes with a stutter.

Jimin eyes him for a moment, fingers still touching the dragon pendant. “I don’t know, hyung.”

“I– I admit that is maybe why I gave you the necklace,” Yoongi says, waving towards Jimin’s neckline. Jimin immediately drops his hand and pretends like he hasn’t been admiring the jewelry ever since he put it on in the car.

“If you wear that, then you’ll be protected from any fae at the Friend Only. We could just go for a couple hours. Maybe have a drink. I might be persuaded to dance,” Yoongi says. Jimin notices his definite wince when he suggests dancing. A smile erupts unbidden from Jimin’s lips.

“Okay, hyung,” Jimin says, voice teasing. “You win. We’ll go. But you have to do a battle.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, matching Jimin’s smile.

“And dance with me,” Jimin adds.

Yoongi’s smile drops. He sits dejectedly for a minute, clearly pretending to weigh his options, but Jimin knows he’s already got him.

Yoongi fusses with the collar of the flannel shirt he decided to wear. He's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, assessing his look. Normally, he wouldn't care this much. But he's nervous. Not date-nervous, but more I've-set-my-friends-up-to-reconcile nervous. He's not stupid enough to think there's no possible way for this plan to backfire. In fact, his brain has been kindly supplying all the gruesome ways this could backfire for the entire afternoon, since dropping Jimin back off at work.

Before he knows it, he's knocking on Jimin's apartment door, shaking out the non-existent wrinkles in his flannel shirt that is hanging open. Quickly, Jimin opens the door, looking stunning in a black leather jacket—Yoongi's leather jacket that never found its way home again, which is perfectly fine, in Yoongi's opinion—and dark jeans.

"Hey," Jimin greets him, his eyes scanning over Yoongi’s outfit. "You look good."

"So do you," Yoongi greets back, and leans in to give Jimin a sweet kiss on the lips. He offers Jimin an elbow. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's," Jimin says, twining his arm with Yoongi's.

They park several blocks away and walk to the warehouse.

The night is cool, but considerably warmer than it had been the last time there was a Friends Only. Jimin automatically wraps himself under Yoongi's arm in a way that leaves Yoongi entirely too pleased. Yoongi's hand finds its way to Jimin's waist underneath the leather jacket. Yoongi feels warm and comfortable. He feels happy, he realizes. This is what happiness feels like.

Jimin is mid-giggle at something Yoongi had said when a tall figure steps out in front of the two of them. Jimin immediately tenses and goes quiet and Yoongi tightens his arm around him protectively.

"Min Yoongi-ssi," the sylph says. He looks much the same as he did at the last Friends Only. The one he was banned from.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. Nor have I given you permission to use my name," Yoongi says coldly. "I am also under the impression you shouldn't be anywhere near Seoul. Or The Crossing, for that matter."

The sylph smirks and laughs. Cocky and stupid, Yoongi thinks. He leans over the both of them as he says, "I don't think the Sidhe's naming conventions apply in The Crossing, Min Yoongi-ssi. My name is Ah Minsu."

There's an awkward silence as Yoongi does not return the greeting.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Minsu continues. He's still looking at Yoongi. In fact, he hasn't looked Jimin's way once. "I didn't realize this little human was yours. I would have never presumed. Of course, humiliating me in front of half the fae in Seoul and getting me banned from the Friends Only, might be a bit too much, don't you think? All over some human?"

Yoongi bristles and he feels Jimin tense ever further into his side.

"I'd suggest you watch your words," Yoongi says tightly, hand unconsciously tightening on Jimin's waist.

Minsu's smile turns into a sneer. "I see. You're still playing at being king, even here in The Crossing. But that's fine, Min Yoongi-ssi. Let's not make this a scene. Enjoy your evening."

The sylph steps back, giving them a mocking bow, before slipping away into the darkness of the alley he had come from. Yoongi and Jimin stand there for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

"I-" Yoongi starts, his mind trying to catch up with what just happened. "We can go. I had no idea he was still here. I thought they'd banished him back to The Dreaming."

"No," Jimin says firmly. "No, I'm not going to let some asshole ruin our night. Let's go."

Yoongi watches Jimin's face and sees nothing but determination there. Still, he asks, "Are you-"

Jimin cuts him off with a glare before he finishes his sentence. Instead, still under Yoongi's arm, he steers them towards the dark, silent warehouse.

In Yoongi's list of "Things that Could Go Catastrophically Wrong with My Meddling," the sylph, Minsu, showing up had not actually made the cut. This is mostly due to Yoongi not having actually checked with Jin or Namjoon to make sure Minsu had been banned not just from the Friends Only, but from the plane entirely. Yoongi is mentally kicking himself for that oversight now.

"Yoongi-chi! Jimin-ah! You're here!" sing-songs a cheerful Jin as the two step into the din of the warehouse. Jin is all smiles and waves his hand off towards the dance floor. "The others are around! They'll be happy to see you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but Jin is already off, dipping back into the crowd. Yoongi glances over at Jimin to see the other looking rather shell-shocked. This whole plan was, in fact, an extremely terrible idea.

Yoongi leans into Jimin's ear to ask, "Are you okay? Maybe we should just go?"

Jimin shakes his head. "Let's dance."

Yoongi nods slowly and lets himself be pulled into the mass on the dance floor. The bass is pounding a moderate rhythm and the bodies writhing around him making him feel particularly on edge. But then Jimin's front is pressed up against his and everything else fades away. Rather than dancing, Yoongi feels he's doing everything to keep up with Jimin's movements, trying to match his gyrating hips and fluid body. He's entranced by the way Jimin moves, and how the leather jacket is open to reveal the white tee molded to his body, emphasizing every curve. He can feel the sweat starting to gather on their skin as they dance closer together. Jimin’s eyes are dark, intense, and unbelievably beautiful. Yoongi feels he’s falling into them.

They move together for what feels like hours until Jimin is winding them down and Yoongi is panting from the heat and intensity of it all. As they make their way off the dance floor, they're stopped by Hoseok and Jungkook.

"Hyung," Jungkook says nervously at Jimin. "Are you– Can I-"

Jungkook's forehead is wrinkled with frustration, his face set into a frown. Yoongi feels a bit sorry for him because he can see concern and anxiety in the way that Jungkook has one hand grasped around Hoseok's upper arm. And in fact, both fae look downcast and anxious.

"Hey, how about I go find V or whoever is working sign-ups tonight? You said you wanted me to battle, right?" Yoongi asks Jimin.

Jimin, looking nervous himself, nods gratefully. "Yeah, I'll meet you over there after the battle?"

"V is on duty tonight," Hoseok confirms with a nervous smile.

Yoongi nods and wants to say more to Jimin. He wants to remind Jimin to call if he needs anything. He wants to tell Jimin to stick with Hoseok and Jungkook until the battle. He wants to become the overprotective mother-hen. But he swallows all that down. Instead he says, "See you after the battle."

Jimin gives him a quick squeeze and then Yoongi pulls away and walks off in search of Jimin's soulmate. One glance back gives him a partial view through the crowd of Jimin standing in front of the other two, all three men tense and unsure. Yoongi hopes they work things out.

Yoongi finds V easily enough and is herded quickly to the pit. After arriving late to the party, the battles are just about to start and Yoongi is grateful for getting slotted in anyway.

The competition is more fierce this time. There are some real talents here that Yoongi has to respect, and he finds himself pushing his limits to keep up with them. It becomes a game of who can rap the fastest and come up with the best lyrics.

The crowd around him is alive, shouting out encouragement and screaming for the participants. The energy is electric as Yoongi focuses on his performance. All his worries about Jimin and his friends go away as he throws himself into the flow of words and beats. He's lost in the music and nothing else matters to him besides winning this competition.

When it all comes down to just him and one other rap battler, Yoongi knows he has to pull out all the stops if he wants to win this one. He puts everything he has left into his last few verses until finally emerging victoriously as the winner of the night.

He looks around the crowd for Jimin. Except he's not there. There's not a single familiar face in the crowd at all. Yoongi ignores the sensation of anxiety bubbling under his skin. Jimin probably got caught up talking and catching up with his friends. That must be it.

Still, when Namjoon and Jin make their way through the crowd to him, twin looks of worry etched into their faces, Yoongi feels his anxiety come back in full force.

"Yoongi," Jin is saying. "Yoongi, have you seen Jimin?"

"Not since the battle started," Yoongi says, trying to swallow down the panic. "He was with Seok-ah and Jungkook-ah."

"Apparently, he got upset and walked away from them," Namjoon says. "They thought he went looking for you, but if you haven't seen him-"

"He left," Yoongi concludes. For a moment, he's upset with Hoseok and Jungkook for saying something to upset Jimin. Then he's a little hurt Jimin would leave without coming to find him first. Then– "Wait. Wait, Joon-ah."

Yoongi can't say it out loud. His veins are filled with ice and the lump in his throat is strangling him. He can't breathe.

"Hyung?" Namjoon asks. He holds Yoongi's elbow, which Yoongi is infinitely grateful for because he's pretty sure he's going to pass out.

"Ah Minsu," Yoongi chokes out.

"That asshole sylph?" Jin says, confused.

"He was here," Yoongi is now sure he's going to throw up, rather than pass out. "He was here. Outside."

"What?!" Jin screeches. Without wasting more time, he's gone, pushing his way through the last of the crowd standing around the pit.

Namjoon stays, though, still practically holding Yoongi up. "It'll be okay, hyung. Hyung'll find him."

Yoongi nods mutely. He's pretty sure this is all his fault, somehow. He's not sure exactly where he went wrong, but he's pretty sure he fucked up big time. And now Jimin was in danger.

Jimin wipes a tear away from his cheek, angrily. He feels so embarrassed and stupid . His footsteps are the only noise in the otherwise quiet street that leads to the closest train station. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are in his jacket pockets—Yoongi’s jacket pockets—with his right hand holding on to his phone.

He toys with the idea of calling Yoongi. He should call Yoongi, really. But he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about everything yet. If what Hobi says is true, Yoongi is basically royalty , the heir to Sidhe throne or whatever they call the head seat at the Seelie Court. That, on top of the information Jungkook had given him about how Jungkook is some kind of imugi and basically imprinted as a guardian to Jimin for life, is just too much.

Instead of feeling betrayed like he had two months ago, Jimin just feels stupid for not knowing all of these things—for not asking—for never showing the slightest bit of interest in his friends’ lives. How anyone is still friends with him is beyond him. He’s been so selfish and cruel. Embarrassing. He wipes away another tear that was rolling down his face without permission.

He feels his phone vibrate and he pulls it out to see Yoongi is calling him. He hovers over the big red “reject call” button, but decides against it. He’s not going to run away from his problems anymore.

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin says. He’s glad his voice is only minimally shaky.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out his name in a sigh. Relief, Jimin thinks. “Where are you? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I left without telling you,” Jimin says. “That was stupid of me.”

“You’re not stupid, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi replies easily. “Hyung was just worried.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says again. “I just, I needed some air and some space. I’m okay. I’m just heading to the train station. I’m just going to head home.”

There’s a pause on the line. Jimin looks around himself, along the poorly lit street, but he can see the light of the subway station about 3 blocks away.

“I can come get you,” Yoongi says quietly, hesitantly. “Just to take you home. So you don’t have to ride the train so late.”

“No, no, it’s okay, hyung,” Jimin says quickly, feeling guilty for his impulsive decision. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Text me tonight when you get home, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says.

“Sure thing, hyung,” Jimin says and hangs up.

Jimin pockets his phone feeling decidedly guilty for causing so much worry. Worrying his friends. Worrying Yoongi.

“So cute,” a voice says with a slow clap.

Jimin freezes in his tracks as he sees Ah Minsu approach, sneering and arrogant. His fists clench in twin feelings of rage and fear as he feels the phone in his pocket, emotions bubbling up inside of him. He can feel a fire rising from within, his blood turning to acid as Ah Minsu stands like a snarky, immovable wall before him.

“What? No hello?” Minsu leers. “That’s very rude. Especially when I’m here to help you.”

Jimin’s frown deepens and he takes a step back, his eyes never leaving the ground. He glances around for an escape route but realizes that the street is dark, blackness falling everywhere. Was the street this dark a moment ago? He can make out a doorway to his right and the glow of the subway station sign 3 blocks away, feeling much further away than it had just a minute ago.

“Get to the point,” Jimin grits out as he turns his attention back to the sylph in front of him.

Minsu tuts. The smile that stretches his face has a shiver running up Jimin’s spine. “Well, somehow, the Court got wind that Min Yoongi-ssi has been fraternizing with humans. Could be bad for him. Could get him sent back to The Dreaming. Permanently.”

Jimin freezes at that, looking at the sylph’s face. This guy is an asshole and a liar, but the idea that Yoongi could be banned from coming here to Seoul—permanently has Jimin feeling panicked. Jimin cannot, will not, be the reason Yoongi loses the one place he’s said makes him feel alive. And if there’s even a grain of truth–

“However, there’s an easy way to get that cleared up. At Court. You just need to tell them that you’re consenting and whatever it is he’s done to you was with your permission,” Minsu says easily with a shrug. The smirk on his face shows much he’s enjoying watching Jimin’s discomfort grow.

“You want me to go to the Seelie Court? Is that even possible?” Jimin asks.

“Of course, it’s possible with an invitation,” Minsu says. “Luckily for you, I have a pretty decent standing within the Court myself. So I can issue you an invitation, no problem.”

Jimin eyes the fae in front of him. This could be a trick. It’s not like the sylph has done anything trustworthy at this point.

“What is in it for you?” Jimin asks.

Minsu laughs, amused. “You humans are so quick to think that we fae want something from your kind. Maybe I’m just doing a good deed. I heard about Min Yoongi-ssi being in trouble and decided I would help out.”

Jimin scoffs. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Well, what about your other friends? Jung Hoseok? Jeon Jungkook?” Minsu asks.

Jimin’s chest squeezes in panic. His face must betray his worry because Minsu is tutting again. Smirk growing into a satisfied grin.

“Just think, Min Yoongi-ssi’s mistake,” Minsu says, his face wrinkling a bit in disgust at the word ‘mistake,’ “could impact his whole circle of friends. They could all end up permanently banned.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jimin says, head feeling heavy.

“Well, the fae take misdeeds in The Crossing very seriously. Prolonged fraternization is a very serious offense. But it can be cleared up so easily.”

Jimin cannot go anywhere with Minsu. That would be stupid. How can he trust anything this fae says?

“In fact, let me prove to you what I’m saying,” Minsu speaks again. “Let me introduce my good friend, the Sidhe.”

Jimin watches another tall person step out of the darkness to stand next to Minsu. They are in billowing robes of silver with dark blue hair in a fancy mass of braids on top of their head. They remind Jimin of the other two Sidhe who visited Yoongi’s hanok two months ago.

“My dear cousin,” the Sidhe says, bowing to Minsu, “is correct that Min Yoongi-ssi, as you know him, is being sought out by the Court.”

Jimin nods at this. He’s wishing, not for the first time, he knew more about the fae and the Court. After this is over, he’s going to invest in some books, maybe take a class, or maybe ask his friends for a crash course, if he can suck up his embarrassment.

“I would like to extend an invitation to you, Park Jimin-ssi,” the Sidhe says, voice laced with a soft accent. Jimin is surprised when they hold out a thin, burgundy card. Jimin steps forward to automatically take it with both hands. He sees what must be the Seelie Court seal and feels his face fall at the thought that this might be the truth.

Jimin looks at the card, unseeing, as he thinks about the potential consequences if all of his friends are permanently banned to The Dreaming. They would lose all the lives they have built here in Seoul. And it will be all Jimin’s fault.

“What do I have to do?” Jimin asks, squaring his shoulders.

“Easy, accept the invitation and just step through this door here,” Minsu smiles and gestures to the door in the building to their right. “We’ll just pop through and clear this up right away.”

“Will you accept my invitation, Park Jimin-ssi?” the Sidhe asks.

“Alright,” Jimin says. He’ll text Yoongi once he’s there, he thinks. Hopefully, this will all be over soon, once this misunderstanding is cleared up. He turns to face the Sidhe and says, “I accept your invitation.”

The Sidhe goes through the door first. From where Jimin is standing, nothing much happens. The Sidhe steps through to what looks like the door to an abandoned office, part of some industrial complex of some kind. Jimin figures it's like the warehouse for the Friends Only, spelled to look ordinary. Minsu is then gesturing him through before he can think much more on it. Without a glance backwards, Jimin steps through the dark doorway to the Seelie Court.

Dawn starts creeping over the horizon, spilling warm light into the hanok, when Yoongi really starts panicking. All of Yoongi’s texts go unanswered and his eventual calls go straight to voicemail. When his buzzing at Jimin’s apartment are only met with silence, Yoongi decides to call in the rest of their friend group.

“Jungkook-ah, have you heard from Jimin?” Yoongi asks while on speaker driving to a local coffee shop he knows Jimin sometimes goes to people-watch.

“Jimin hyung?” Jungkook asks. “What do you mean?”

“He isn’t answering his phone. I haven’t talked to him since he was walking to the train last night,” Yoongi says, feeling incredibly stupid for taking so long to realize Jimin might actually be missing.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sounds broken as he utters the word.

“I know, Kook-ah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, hyung,” Jungkook says.

“Maybe,” Yoongi doesn’t feel like belaboring the point. This is definitely his fault though.

“I’ll call the others,” Jungkook says. “I’ll let you know if we hear from him.”

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, pulling into a parking space in front of the coffee shop.

Jimin isn’t at the coffee shop. None of the baristas have seen him today. Yoongi’s heart races as he leaves the coffee shop and heads back to his car. He tries calling Jimin again, praying to any god that might be listening this time it goes through.

It doesn’t.

He drives to Bubbles and Brew where they’d had their first kind-of-date. He drives to the movie theater, the fancy Japanese restaurant, the park by the Han River. Yoongi even tries the cat café where Jimin had confessed he's actually quite allergic to cats, but only after they had been in the café for 15 minutes.

Jimin isn’t anywhere.

“Let’s meet at your house, hyung,” Taehyung says over the phone. No one had better luck than Yoongi.

Namjoon arrives late to Yoongi’s hanok, his brow furrowed with worry. Yoongi can see him hesitating at the doorway before joining the others. Everyone else is gathered around Yoongi’s kitchen and dining area. Jin and Taehyung are sifting through their phones, trying to find any more contacts that might be able to help. Jungkook paces. Hoseok stares at the wall, unseeing, clearly lost in what is probably some kind of self-destructive spiral.

“Come in, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says, when the man doesn’t move.

Namjoon toes off his shoes and steps into the room. “Hyung, I’ve been conferring with some of my acquaintances who might know that sylph, Ah Minsu. From what I’ve gathered, he has been planning something. He’s been asking around about you. And about Hoseok and Jungkook. It doesn’t really make sense, but it can’t be good.”

Yoongi allows himself a moment to internally berate himself. The “should have” list is long. He should have taken care of that asshole from the beginning. He should have made sure he was actually banned. He should have made sure Jimin would be protected.

Just then, there is the low chime of someone calling at the door. Yoongi stands up quickly, slips outdoor shoes on at the step, and makes his way across the madang to the front gate. Anger flares in him as he sees the two Sidhe standing before him.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” one of them says.

“Look, now isn’t a good time,” Yoongi starts.

“Ah, yes,” the other Sidhe says. “You might be worrying about that little human. Park Jimin-ssi.”

Yoongi looks sharply at the second Sidhe. “What do you know about Park Jimin?”

“It seems one of our cousins issued an invitation to Court and Park Jimin-ssi accepted,” the first Sidhe says.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi snarls out. “There is no way in this plane or any fucking other that Jimin would accept an invitation to the fucking Seelie Court willingly.”

“You know as well I do, cousin,” the second Sidhe says, “that invitations must be consented to. I can assure you, Park Jimin-ssi, willingly accepted our cousin’s invitation.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi spits out. “That’s complete bullshit.”

“No matter,” the first Sidhe sniffs. “We’re here to issue you an invitation to Court, cousin.”

The Sidhe proffers a red invitation, holding it out for Yoongi to take. Yoongi angrily grabs the card with one hand and slams the metal door shut in the two Sidhes’ faces.

“Fuck,” Yoongi says to the door. “Fuck!”

“What happened, hyung?” Jungkook asks from the courtyard.

Yoongi turns to see that everyone is standing there by the pond, waiting for news.

“Jimin’s at Court,” Yoongi says flatly. He glances down at the burgundy card in his hand. His skin crawls at the sight of it. Wishes burning it would change reality. “He’s at fucking Court.”

The silence that hangs over the madang is palpable. No one moves, all eyes on Yoongi. Yoongi doesn't know for how long everything freezes in place—a minute? an hour? Then–

“Why would he be at Court, hyung?” Hoseok asks. His eyes are wide.

“Maybe he didn’t know you can say no to the invitation,” Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi’s heart breaks at how desolate Jungkook’s voice is.

Namjoon says, sounding as forlorn as Yoongi feels, “He didn’t know enough. We could have protected him better by telling him more. We should have done a better job preparing him.”

Jin’s face turns an angry red as he murmurs, “How could none of you have talked to Jimin about fae matters?”

“We all dragged him into this mess,” Taehyung says, almost to himself, his jaw clenching.

There’s another tense silence as everyone wrestles their own thoughts. Yoongi feels a wave of guilt wash over him as Jin’s words sink in. He had been so caught up in his own feelings for Jimin that he hadn’t even considered how unsafe it might be for him to be around the fae. He had let his own desires cloud his judgment, and now Jimin was paying the price.

“We couldn’t have foreseen this though,” Hoseok says gently.

The air suddenly seems heavy and charged with emotion as everyone eyes each other.

Namjoon’s jaw clenches tightly as he snarls, “It wasn’t me who didn’t talk to him for two months!”

“Why are you trying to pin this on me? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Hoseok says, his voice rising in pitch as he slams his arms against his chest.

“But you do see him every day, don’t you?” Namjoon snaps back.

“This isn’t an office! We’re dancing! All of us have different classes and assignments!” Hoseok yells. “Besides, any one of you could have just as easily called him. Phones exist, you know.”

“He needed better protection,” Taehyung says. Then he suddenly rounds on Jungkook. “Aren’t you supposed to be his Guardian? Where were you?”

Jungkook flinches as if Taehyung hit him and looks near tears at the accusation and looks down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where he was or that he was in danger. I should have been more vigilant.”

“It’s not just Jungkook’s fault,” Yoongi says, stepping forward to defend the maknae. “None of us were paying enough attention to Jimin’s safety. We were all too caught up in our own bullshit to think through the consequences.”

Hoseok slams his fist on the wooden porch railing. Yoongi watches as everyone starts screaming at one another, no one even listening to the others’ words anymore. Yoongi feels his temper flare as the argument spirals out of control. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The anger fizzles out immediately, leaving anguish and fear in its wake.

“Enough!” Yoongi growls loudly, pulling the symbol for peace as he yells. The group falls silent immediately. Yoongi softens his tone as he says, “We can fight among ourselves later if we must, but right now we have to get Jimin back. Before something bad happens. Assuming we’re not too late.”

“It’s the Seelie Court, Yoongi-chi,” Jin’s tone is softer now, too. “He should be safe there.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Just like he was safe at the Friends Only. Twice.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok breathes out.

The silence is tense and awkward.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, feeling sick at the memory of each misstep. He knows that right now, without proper support, Jimin is not safe anywhere near the fae, especially in the Seelie Court. “We need to act fast. Namjoon, can you gather any intel you can on Minsu’s plans?”

“Sure thing, hyung,” Namjoon says.

“The rest of you,” Yoongi says, turning to look at the other four fae. “Will you come with me to the Seelie Court?”

“Is that an invitation, hyung?” Hoseok asks, a hint of sass in his voice that helps break some of the tension.

“Yes, Jung Hoseok-ssi.” Yoongi pulls himself up straight in mock regality. “I am officially inviting you, along with Kim Seokjin-ssi, Kim Taehyung-ssi, and Jeon Jungkook-ssi, to accompany me to the Seelie Court.”

Jimin tries not to panic as he’s escorted by two fae guards to an isolated guest room deep in the bowels of the Seelie Court. He realizes quickly he’s not in the industrial building they entered in Seoul. He realizes that he’s probably not even in Seoul anymore. This Court must be somewhere else, some place else and that the door they walked through was just a portal.

The Seelie Court itself is like a large hanok, or multiple hanoks maybe, made of light colored wood. The structures are connected by courtyard gardens and delicate covered timber walkways. Bright white paper screens divide the outer courtyards from the inner buildings, which glisten in the sunlight with their polished wooden floors and intricately carved walls, which reflect back the light in beautiful patterns. Almost too beautiful. With each turn in the path, new halls open up, twisting away from Jimin so that he knows he’ll never find his way through at this rate.

The guest room itself is simple and clean. The sunlight that slants in through the paper-covered window paints soft, dancing shapes on the white walls. A low desk with a cushion for a seat lines one wall; in the other corner sits a low table with a comforter folded neatly at its foot. There is a yo mattress with a cover spread across it in the center of the floor.

As soon as he’s alone, he pulls out his phone to text Yoongi to tell him where he was. As he looks at the words “out of service” on his screen and feels the prickle of anxiety. He can’t contact Yoongi. No one knows he’s here. He’s on a different plane of existence and no one knows he’s left Seoul.

Jimin sits on the mattress, his back to the wall, waiting. There’s no sound except for his own breathing, which seems loud in all this silence. He expects to hear some sort of activity, but it was as if time has stopped entirely. Then, he realizes the light coming through the paper in the window never changes. Apparently, here at the Seelie Court, there is no sunrise or sunset. He loses all sense of time.

Not a single soul comes to greet him. The stark silence only adds to Jimin’s terror that grows with every passing moment. To keep himself from hyperventilating, Jimin’s fingers play with the jade orb around his neck and his mind wanders to memories of Yoongi, of his friends, of home.

Yoongi at the piano. Yoongi’s gummy smile. Yoongi smirking at some quip he’s made. Yoongi kissing Jimin.

He thinks of his friends, who he owes several large, prolonged apologies to. He pushed them away when he was prejudiced and scared. He kept them at arm’s length. He ran away every single moment that got rough.

He thinks of his job teaching dance and choreographing. He thinks of the life he’s built for himself in Seoul.

Jimin’s muscles tense at the sound of approaching footsteps, his heart pounding in trepidation. Suddenly two Sidhe stride into the room, their colorful robes and sashes glinting in the candlelight. With a sharp exhale, they simultaneously produce a basin filled with steaming water, along with several cloths and a comb.

One of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to come towards the basin of steaming water. Jimin hesitates, feeling the Sidhe’s piercing gaze pierce him like needles as he steps closer to the basin. His heart thuds loudly in his chest and his feet feel like lead weights sinking into the carpet. Then the other Sidhe is tugging at his clubbing clothes, clearly indicating for him to take them off.

“Excuse me?” Jimin asks shakily, clutching at himself protectively.

The Sidhe make an impatient noise and move to help him remove his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Jimin shrills, trying to back up.

His resistance seems to make the Sidhe more insistent, as they pull at his shirt and pants. Jimin quakes in fear, his heart pounding against his ribcage. A thousand needles seem to pierce into his skin with every passing second as the two Sidhe wordlessly stare meaningfully at him. His mind scrambles for something to do, but he can do nothing but obey their unspoken command and strip himself of clothing piece by piece until all that remains is his underwear—which appears to satisfy the two fae in front of him. Jimin shivers and hunches his body up, covering himself with crossed arms and raised shoulders.

Once he’s naked, one of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to wash himself in the basin, handing him a cloth to wash himself with. He’s quick to take it, to show them he can do it himself. Jimin’s hands quiver as they dip into the warm liquid, shaking. He struggles not to let his fear take over as he washes himself with the water and a cloth, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable beneath their watchful eyes. Every muscle in his body is clenched tightly, trying to keep composure but failing miserably. The Sidhe remain silent throughout, never once speaking or reacting to anything he does.

Once finished, they silently take away the basin and present him with a beautiful green robe of silk that fits him perfectly. One of the Sidhe takes up a comb and begins to work it through his hair, their long nails gently scraping against his scalp. The other Sidhe ties an intricate knot around his waist. Jimin stands as still as possible, feeling like part of this strange ritual where he will become the human sacrifice. With a nod, they turn and leave without another word.

In the same whirlwind fashion that they arrive, the Sidhe are gone again.

Tears fall then as he stands in the middle of the bedroom in strange clothes, in a different plane of existence , feeling utterly alone and violated. His hands run over the robes the Sidhe had dressed him in. He doesn’t even feel like himself anymore. He can’t tell if he’s losing his mind, if any of this is real. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but the tears keep flowing down his face.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to come here? Jimin collapses onto the bed, too overwhelmed to process what has just happened and why. He had been foolish to trust Minsu—what had he been thinking? What possessed him to go along with their plan? He should have known better. He should have known it was a mistake, should have contacted Yoongi or anyone. His chest feels heavy with worry as he thinks of his current situation.

He looks around for something, anything, that might help him find a way out of this place. In desperation, he gets up and begins searching the room for any sort of exit or window. The door won’t budge. The window doesn’t open. As he does so, however, panic begins to take over him once again. What if there was no way out? What did they want with him?

Jimin slumps to the floor, his knees giving way beneath him. He buries his face in his hands and sobs uncontrollably. He can’t believe he’s so helpless and alone, stuck in a world he doesn’t understand. The tears start streaming down his cheeks and Jimin pulls his hands through his freshly combed hair. As his sobs echo through the room, a wave of sadness washes over him as he realizes just how far away home feels right now. The weight of his situation bears down on him like a crushing weight, threatening to suffocate him.

The Seelie Court has not changed at all in the years of Yoongi’s absence. He’s extremely irritated that the Sidhe have manipulated things and forced his hand so he’d have to show his face here again. As he pieced together the information they had to go with—the Sidhe’s increasingly backhanded ways of inviting Yoongi to Court, Minsu suddenly have the far too brilliant plan to bring Jimin here. No, this is the workings of the heads of Court.

The realization that this has all been a plot to get Yoongi back to Court came as a brief relief to Yoongi. It means they have no real intention of hurting Jimin. Yoongi can just show his face, fight whatever verbal sparring match the heads of Court have planned, and then take Jimin safely home. He holds onto this as he strides confidently into the Great Hall, flanked by Jungkook and Hoseok on his right and Jin and Taehyung on his left.

Yoongi only allows himself a brief glance at the room, unchanged and familiar as it is. The whole hall is bright, as if bathed in a perpetual morning light. There are plants everywhere, tucked into corners, hanging from the rafters. Chairs are scattered throughout, never in any practical arrangement for holding an audience at Court. But then again, they never really have had much need for holding audience.

While only a few of the scattered chairs are occupied by fae—many more are probably hidden away throughout the room, which is deceptively larger than it appears—, calmly sipping from tea cups or simply admiring the foliage about, Yoongi can see the entire heads of Court has been assembled. Twelve Sidhe, in their silver and blue robes, sit in a semi-circle on the raised dais at the front of the hall. It is towards this dais that Yoongi and his coterie walk to now.

As they approach the Sidhe, Yoongi can feel the air around him grow tense with each step. He can feel their eyes on him, measuring and assessing. He knows what they are doing—they are trying to intimidate him, to make him feel small and insignificant, the same trick they’ve been catching him in his whole life. However, he’s brought his own arsenal of tools for intimidation. Starting with his friends at his side, all dressed in their Seoul fashion—a clear rejection of Court protocol. He straightens his shoulders and holds his head up high as he steps to the appropriate distance from the dais. He’s pleased to see the flicker of uncertainty briefly flash in some of the Sidhe’s eyes.

“Well,” says the eldest of the Sidhe. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Yoongi feels a flash of anger course through him at the condescending tone. He takes a deep breath before speaking, keeping his voice even and controlled. He can hear his friends taking similarly deep breaths from behind him.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “As you know, I had important matters, including my livelihood, to attend to in The Crossing.”

Another of the Sidhe snorts in disbelief. Yoongi feels his hands tense into fists at his side and he has to consciously relax them.

“Important matters indeed,” they say. “We’ve heard all about your dilly-dallying.”

“Dilly-dallying,” Yoongi can hear Hoseok mock the word under his breath.

Yoongi is about to open his mouth in retort, but another voice interrupts him. “Well, Min Yoongi-ssi, you came much quicker than I expected.”

Ah Minsu walks through the Great Hall to stand near Yoongi’s group, far away enough to avoid physical threat, but still near enough to the dais. The newcomer looks resplendent in golden robes with several layers. Everything flutters as he moves, as if he’s buoyed by his own little wind. Yoongi raises his eyebrow to the sylph.

“Cocky and stupid,” Jin mutters under his breath.

Yoongi huffs out a quick laugh, trying to bite back the angry smile threatening to ruin his composure in front of the Court.

“I’m rather surprised you’re here at all, Minsu-ssi,” Yoongi says. He can’t stop the smirk on his lips then. “I may use your name here, can I not? You seem to have no qualms about using mine.”

Minsu leers at him. “Why wouldn’t I be here? I am a representative for my clan. I have many dealings with Court. Plus, I wanted to come give my testimony in your case.”

“Dear cousin,” the eldest Sidhe speaks, looking at Minsu, “what do you mean by testimony?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minsu asks, turning to face the heads of Court. Yoongi watches the sylph’s face become the facade of obedience and contrition. “Our cousin is making an attempt to keep a human in The Crossing as a pet .”

The Great Hall had been relatively quiet up until now, but upon Minsu’s words, whispers break out among the fae. Even some of the heads of the Court lean towards one another to remark on the allegations.

Before Yoongi can react, Taehyung is launching himself towards Minsu with a cry, “You bastard!”

As Taehyung surges forward, Yoongi reaches out to grab him, but misses. However, Jin is closer and successfully gets a hold of Taehyung in a strained back hug.

“Don’t you dare talk about Jimin like that!” Taehyung yells at Minsu, struggling against Jin’s hold on him, both their eyes ablaze with anger. Yoongi tries to put a placating hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, but Taehyung continues his struggle.

Yoongi doesn’t want them getting into a fight that could ruin their chances of getting Jimin out of here unharmed. Yoongi looks towards Minsu and sees the sylph is laughing. Yoongi thinks he looks a bit crazed. It’s nauseating.

“That is enough,” the eldest Sidhe says, voice echoing with magical amplification to fill the hall.

Taehyung huffs, but stills his struggle. He keeps his eyes narrowly trained on the sylph. Satisfied his friend isn’t going to do anything impulsive, Yoongi turns his gaze to Minsu again. The sylph shoots a smirk at Yoongi, who feels a muscle in his jaw tighten, but otherwise holds his tongue.

“Do you care to elaborate on your accusations, cousin?” one of the Sidhe on the dais asks. “While possibly distasteful, it is not explicitly illicit to have a relationship with a human. However, if the human is not consenting...”

The Sidhe lets their sentence trail off, letting everyone understand where the nuance in the laws lay. Yoongi uses all his willpower not to laugh aloud.

“You see,” Minsu says, still confident for reasons Yoongi cannot fathom, “I met the human at a gathering of humans and fae. I was immediately concerned with the way that Yoongi-ssi was treating this human in particular. He seemed far too interested, picking him out of the crowd intentionally. I could tell that the human was shocked and uncomfortable with Yoongi-ssi’s spell summoning. Yoongi-ssi did not notice, or did not care.”

Minsu pauses and shoots a glare at the rest of Yoongi’s friends for added effect. “The human definitely didn’t want to go with Yoongi-ssi. It took a lot of work, but I was finally able to find the human alone and convince him to get away from Yoongi-ssi. I did eventually decide it was better to bring him here to Court. It seemed like the only way.”

Yoongi watches as Minsu weaves his intricate lies, anger simmering in his gut.

“Knowing that Yoongi-ssi seems to have not had as proper of an upbringing as the rest of us, I figured it best to make sure he is taught a lesson here, at Court. I’m sure being raised in The Crossing has led to an incomplete education,” Minsu finishes with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Yoongi can hear the surprised gasps from his own group of friends. He can hear Hoseok’s incredulous laugh leak out before he can clamp a hand over his own mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Jin says, sounding incredulous, before the Sidhe on the dais can speak up. “Do you not actually know who he is?”

Jin waves a hand vaguely in Yoongi’s direction while he addresses Minsu. This time it is Taehyung that accidentally lets out a disbelieving laugh.

Minsu clearly has no fucking clue. This is better than Yoongi thought.

“Of course I know who he is,” Minsu replies and actually rolls his eyes. “He’s Min Yoongi-ssi of no clan, half-fae, from The Crossing.”

Yoongi can feel both Hoseok and Taehyung struggle to maintain composure and even Jin now looks like he’s about to laugh. Yoongi feels like he needs to reign this in and get Jimin so they can get out of here.

The eldest Sidhe clears their throat from the dais. Everyone sobers up a bit and turns their attention back to the heads of the Court.

“The matter of the human’s consent can be quickly ascertained,” one of the Sidhe says. They nod to a fae standing to the right of the dais and watch for a moment as the fae leaves though a sliding door. “However, given our cousin’s upbringing, I am certain we will find no wrongdoing.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense!” Minsu growls. His face grows red with anger as he tries to puzzle together everyone’s reactions to his accusations. He whirls on Yoongi. “Who the fuck are you?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow at Minsu, but decides not to answer him. Instead, he turns back to the dais and asks, “Where is Jimin? I would like to see him.”

“Ah, he is being summoned now,” the eldest Sidhe says.

“What the fuck is going on? I was told if I brought the human here, Yoongi would get the justice he deserves,” Minsu is shouting now.

“I’m not sure who told you that, cousin,” another Sidhe on the dais says. “But, we are not in the habit of punishing those that have not actually committed crimes.”

“Yoongi is a low life! He fucking raps at clubs and who knows what else! How can any of you be defending him! Don’t even get me started on those pathetic excuses for fae he hangs out with!” Minsu seethes, clearly grasping.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow on the sylph. Someone can belittle his character all they want, but sure as fuck they are not going to come after his friends.

“First,” Yoongi starts, “you started this, asshole, spelling humans without their consent. I should have had you banished back to The Dreaming for good immediately. That was my mistake. I’ll be sure to rectify that today.”

Most of the Court raises their eyebrows at this revelation. More whispering erupts throughout the Great Hall. Minsu sputters.

“Second,” Yoongi continues with barely a pause, “my friends are all upstanding citizens. Half of them are esteemed members of this Court. Which you would know if you actually asked around. In fact, despite my long absence, it’s probably not hard to find out who I am just by asking. I suggest you do your actual homework before talking out your ass.”

Minsu is still sputtering, as if trying to find something to say but failing.

“Third,” Yoongi drops his voice low, tone that of steel, he raises his arm to point his index finger straight at the eldest Sidhe, “while I am no longer a member of this Court, that seat was once to be mine. Yes, I may have renounced my clan and have settled in The Crossing like many of our kind have, but I grew up in these very halls.”

Yoongi stalks slowly forward towards Minsu, who is looking satisfyingly terrified now. Yoongi feels as if he’s about to vibrate out of his skin as a rage that goes well beyond just the sylph standing before him burns through him. He punches a single finger into Minsu’s chest to emphasize his point.

“Insulting my upbringing is to insult to my parent,” Yoongi gestures again towards the eldest Sidhe, “and to insult the entire Seelie Court. Apologize to them.”

Minsu doesn’t even hesitate. He drops into a full bow, forehead pressed into the wooden floor.

“Forgive me, dear cousins,” Minsu murmurs into the wood.

“Now get out. I don’t want Jimin to have to see your face,” Yoongi says with finality.

Minsu quickly rises to his feet and trips over his own feet in his scramble for the door, skirting around Yoongi’s friends on his way out. He’s gone from Court in less than two minutes.

“Now,” Yoongi turns back to the heads of the Court. “Where is Jimin?”

“He should be here any moment,” the eldest Sidhe replies with a small smirk. How Minsu hadn’t seen the resemblance between the Sidhe and Yoongi is surely beyond everyone in the room.

Just then the door the fae had exited early slides open and the fae steps back through it. She looks nervous before she steps aside to let the person behind her through.

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he sees Jimin. He’s wearing grand green robes that make him look ethereal, but his pale complexion, the red splotches on his face, tousled hair, and swollen eyes are clear indications he’s been crying. He’s breathing hard, taking in gulps of air as he steps into the room. His eyes light up with hope as he and Yoongi make eye contact.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yoongi asks with a hardened tone. He’s itching to throw himself at Jimin, to run out of here, to burn the entire Court down as he goes. He swallows down his instincts and waits for the Sidhe to answer him.

At the same moment, Jungkook makes a broken whimper and races toward Jimin, Taehyung hot on his heels. Both fae immediately wrap themselves protectively around the human and usher him back over to their group.

There is clear confusion in the faces of the Sidhe as they watch the events unfold before them. Finally, the eldest Sidhe asks, “What is the meaning of what?”

Jimin’s ears have been filled with static ever since the fae came to collect him from his room. Again, no words were exchanged as the fae led him down twisting paths and confusing corridors. He realizes he hasn’t heard a spoken word aside from his own since Minsu’s rough “deal with the human” when he was left in this place. The silence and the terror have him choking on the scream building in his throat.

They finally stop in front of a simple white door. Before he can even take a breath, the fae is sliding it open and stepping inside, gesturing for him to follow.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the back of the fae in front of him, he follows into the room, which turns out to be a large hall filled with plants. He tempts a glance around, trying to get his bearings. There are a whole group of Sidhe, tall and intimidating with their ornately styled blue hair, on a platform in front of him. As he looks further into the hall, his knees almost give out in relief at the sight of a familiar group of people. Jimin’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s and Jimin releases an inaudible gasp.

Yoongi looks soft for the briefest of moments as he gazes at Jimin, eyes raking up and down Jimin’s frame, then his expression turns hard, angry. He faces back to the platform. His tone matches his expression when he asks, “What is the meaning of this?”

It’s so jarring to hear someone speak—especially with that tone of voice coming from Yoongi —after so long in silence. How long has he been here, in this timeless, soundless, lifeless place? How do the fae stop themselves from going mad here?

Jimin registers the despondent sound Jungkook makes just before he and Taehyung are barreling forward, wrapping their arms protectively around Jimin. Before he can even process what is happening, he’s surrounded by his friends. They all seem to form a barrier between him and the rest of the room.

He wants to embrace the relief of being with his friends again, with Yoongi. But he can’t let himself relax yet. His friends might still be in trouble. Yoongi might be in trouble. That’s, after all, why he came to this godforsaken place in the first place. With a start, he realizes Yoongi’s been talking this whole time, voice still sharp as steel, with the Sidhe on the platform.

Yoongi stands with his arms folded across his chest. He looks like he could spit acid at the Sidhe, who look back at him with creased brows. Their voices are quiet and calm. Jimin’s anxiety spirals from inside his little friend fortress.

“We have done nothin but treat the human with respect and hospitality,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Bullshit,” Yoongi growls. “Let’s wrap this up so we may leave and never come back.”

“But dear cousin–” another of the Sidhe starts.

“No,” Yoongi cuts them off. “I am not interested. I haven’t been interested in decades. I have a life in The Crossing, as is my right. I am not giving up my life for this bullshit. So take your Court and fuck off. You think you’re better than the Unseelie Court? You think you’re all noble? Did any one of you ask Jimin what he wanted or if he was even here of his own freewill?”

An eerie silence hangs over the hall.

Yoongi scoffs in disgust. Jimin can just see his profile through the shoulders of his friends. The fae is standing tall—commanding—and the anger rolling off of him is almost visible.

“What happened to consent, hm?” Yoongi sneers. “One of the most sacred values, is it not?”

“Cousin,” a Sidhe says, shifting a little on their feet, “it is true, perhaps, we were not as thorough as we should have been.”

Jimin can hear Jungkook and Taehyung both let out angry huffs of air, but they don’t move.

“Human, step forward,” the Sidhe in the center of the platform says.

His wall of friends around him are tense, hesitating to move until Yoongi tells them to let Jimin through.

Yoongi holds his hand out to Jimin, palm up. Jimin takes it readily and steps up next to the fae. Yoongi’s hand gives his a comforting squeeze. Jimin keeps his eyes trained on the platform in front of him, rather than making eye contact with any of the fae.

Jimin takes a few deep breaths, his hand still in Yoongi’s. He can tell the Sidhe are all watching them, feel the burning of their gaze on his skin. But as discomforting as their gaze is, he can also feel the familiar comfort of all of his friends at his back, close enough for their body heat to reach him.

The realization hits Jimin then. It was all a trick. A stupid one. Yoongi was never in danger until Jimin stupidly followed that asshole through that door. His friends were never in danger. This is their home, for fucks sake. Something settles inside his chest then, some of the fear melts away.

“Human,” the Sidhe says. “Did you consent to coming to Court?”

“I–” Jimin starts, thinking back. “I did. But I was told Yoongi hyung was in trouble. I was told I could help him if I came here.”

Yoongi makes a small choking noise, clearly upset, but Jimin keeps his eyes on the Sidhe’s feet.

“I see,” the Sidhe says. “Well, while you were clearly given false information, I’m afraid consent was still given.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok says from behind Jimin.

And Jimin has had enough. He’s tired. He’s afraid, but less afraid now that his friends are here. Now that he knows the imagined threats are just that—imagined. Most importantly, though, he’s angry. So angry. Angry at Minsu. Angry at the Sidhe. He lifts his chin and makes eye contact with each Sidhe standing on the platform.

“However,” Jimin says loudly, making sure his voice carries, which has the added bonus of taking the tremor out of his tone. He silently gives thanks for that theater class he took in university. “I did not consent to being stripped naked, forced to wash in front of an audience. I did not consent to wearing unfamiliar clothes, have my own belongings taken away, and to sit in some empty room for who knows how long. No one asked me for my permission. No one has spoken a word to me at all.”

Jimin’s face burns red at the confession, not sure if it’s a product of him being embarrassed or angry, and he worries he sounds like he’s rambling. He darts his eyes to the side momentarily to see if he can see Yoongi’s reaction. Yoongi is staring at him, eyes burning fierce with what might be a mixture of anger and pride. Okay then.

“You know what, I might have given my consent to be here when I didn’t know what the fuck was actually going on,” Jimin continues, confidence blossoming in his chest. “But now I know.”

Jimin takes a deep breath and squeezes Yoongi’s hand tighter. Yoongi’s presence grounds him. He meets the Sidhe’s gaze head on, his voice growing stronger with each passing second.

“I did not come here to be humiliated and degraded. I did not come here to be treated like some plaything for you and your Court’s amusement. And I sure as hell did not come here to be used as leverage against someone I care about,” Jimin says, his voice menacing.

The tension in the room is palpable, waiting for the Sidhe to respond. Jimin fights the urge to fidget under their intense scrutiny, focusing on the weight of Yoongi’s hand in his.

“I see,” one of the Sidhe says finally, breaking the silence. “We apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Wow,” Jimin hears Taehyung breathe out, voice laced with sarcasm.

No one moves. Jimin has no intention of accepting their half-assed apology. Instead he says, lifting his chin higher in determination, “I am revoking my consent. I no longer wish to accept your invitation to this Court. I would like to go home. With Yoongi. And my friends. Now.”

The Sidhe seem speechless—a frozen tableau of blue fae with varying levels of shock on their faces standing before him on their platform.

“Let’s fucking go then,” Taehyung says, breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the room.

Suddenly, Yoongi is turning, pushing Jimin into his friends’ arms. The group moves quickly, ushering Jimin down the length of the room and out a set of oversized doors. They are in a large circular room with doors all along the walls. Each has a small label over the top of the door frame, but the language must be fae, because Jimin can’t decipher it.

No one makes a move to stop them as Namjoon’s boyfriend opens the door they’ve moved in front of. Without any further ceremony, they all file through the door and end up in a room that looks suspiciously reminiscent of Yoongi’s hanok.

“That was really hot,” Taehyung breathes out.

Hoseok laughs, although it sounds more like relief.

Jungkook hasn’t let Jimin go yet, hand still coiled protectively around Jimin’s bicep. “You okay, hyung?”

Jimin nods and looks around at the faces standing around him, looking for one in particular.

When he doesn’t see who he’s looking for, he frantically asks, “Wait, where’s Yoongi?”

Yoongi waits until he’s sure everyone has made it through the portal before he turns his attention back to the Court and the Sidhe on the dais. He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you invited me,” Yoongi says calmly. “I assume it wasn’t to swap chicken soup recipes.”

“Child,” the eldest Sidhe says.

Yoongi looks at his parent, standing regal in the center of the dais, and waits.

“I do not want you making the same mistakes as I did,” the Sidhe continues.

Yoongi clenches his jaw. There is an edge to his tone as he repeats, “Mistakes.”

“Yes, I did much when I was younger that I wish I had spared myself from. The Crossing provides much to distract, but that can be dangerous,” the Sidhe says.

“By that logic, I am one of your mistakes, since I am a product of your forays into The Crossing,” Yoongi says.

“I would not put it that way, Child,” the Sidhe says, the barest hint of sadness in their voice. “Humans feel much, it’s true. But their emotions are not stable. They do not understand longevity the way those of us of The Dreaming do.”

“Thank you for your advice. I promise I will not regret this choice. I cannot apologize for taking certain risks and living my life on my own terms,” Yoongi says. He almost pities the fae on the dais. They rarely leave the cozy blandness of the Seelie Court. They don’t realize what they are missing. What it feels like to be alive—or to truly love.

None of the Sidhe speak. Yoongi is happy to wait them out, letting the tension fill the room, an invisible cloud that makes it a little hard to breathe.

Yoongi is relieved when Namjoon walks up to the front of the room. He positions himself next to Yoongi, giving the fae a small nod. Yoongi feels the final coil of anxiety release.

“Alright, well, I’m leaving,” Yoongi says, dusting non-existent dust off his jeans, sounding almost tired, as if he’s had to put up with way too much bullshit for one day—which is true. And he means every word he says, he can already feel the dulling of his emotions the longer he stays. It’s time to go.

“You cannot just walk away from your responsibilities,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Ah, cousin,” Yoongi replies, allowing the sarcasm to drip through in his tone, “you are so correct. And I have many, many responsibilities and obligations waiting for me in The Crossing. So. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gives the eldest Sidhe a courtesy nod of his head and then he turns on his heel and marches out of the Great Hall. Namjoon keeps pace with him.

“That sylph is actually banished this time?” Yoongi asks when they are far enough away from the dais he feels comfortable to talk.

“Yes, hyung,” Namjoon says. “Turns out someone had, uh, mislaid the paperwork the first time. Apparently someone thought it would be a good idea to trick Minsu into bringing Jimin here in order to lure you to Court. I think they were trying to win the heads of Court’s favor. I’ve reported the fae responsible and made sure the paperwork was walked all the way through to the right office this time. Ah Minsu won’t be able to leave The Dreaming again.”

Yoongi nods. “Good. That’s good.”

Jimin is throwing himself into Yoongi’s arm the moment the fae makes it through the portal, the older grunting at the unexpected impact.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Jimin says into Yoongi’s neck. “I was so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to care, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms more securely around Jimin’s back. “I should have been more open, too. I’m sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head, still buried in Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi huffs a laugh. He turns his head so his nose is tucked into Jimin’s hair and he murmurs, “I think the most important thing is, if this ever happens again, you call me first, hm? Fae bullshit happens, call hyung. Deal?”

Jimin laughs wetly as he nods and tightens his hold. He thinks maybe it’ll be better if he can just stay here, like this, forever. Then he remembers that empty bedroom at the Seelie Court, where time didn’t seem to pass, and he changes his mind. Not forever, but for a long while, maybe.

Jimin is wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel when Hoseok lets out a small gasp.

“Do you see the text?” his friend asks without looking up from his phone screen.

“I left my phone in my locker,” Jimin says with a shrug. He throws the towel in the laundry bin and starts zipping up his duffle.

“Friends Only tonight,” Hoseok says. “You coming?”

“Don’t think so,” Jimin says. “I’ve got plans.”

“Plans? What plans?” Hoseok asks, pretending to sound annoyed. Then he finally looks up from his phone screen to see the mischievous smile Jimin is giving him. “Oh, you know, what. Ew. TMI. Never mind. I do not want to know. Have fun. Wear a condom.”

Jimin is already pushing the door to the dance studio open, his duffle bag hanging from an elbow. “You too, hyung!”

Namjoon is knocking on the open door to his music studio. Yoongi vaguely wonders when he left it open. Maybe Namjoon used his emergency code for what is clearly not an emergency, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon is saying, dimples showing from his smile.

“This should be good,” Yoongi mumbles, already turning back to his computer screen.

“There’s a Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon apparently doesn’t let Yoongi’s taciturn mood get him down. “You coming?”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi says, refusing to look away from his work, resolutely clicking his mouse.

Namjoon just laughs as he walks away down the hall.

“Yah!” Yoongi yells. “Shut the door!”

Sometimes Jimin forgets he’s no longer at the Seelie Court. Usually, it’s brief, but that moment of panic when he thinks he’s back there—floating in that timeless place—is enough to prick his eyes with tears and send his heart thumping in his chest.

It’s easier though, here, in Seoul, to remind himself that everything is still real and time is passing. He can hear a car out on the road and a bird singing from Yoongi’s madang. He can smell fresh air and petrichor. He can taste the coffee that’s brewing across the way when Yoongi hands him a sturdy mug and the same coffee on Yoongi’s lips when they kiss. He can see the sun’s shadows on the walls of the hanok as it makes its way across the sky. He can feel—everything—the softness of sheets, the heat in the air as summer comes into full swing, the hard earned sweat when he’s working until he gets a choreo looking the way he wants. He’s here. He’s real. Time continues to march forward.

When he first confessed to Yoongi that he was still struggling, that sometimes he forgets where he is and the fear that accompanies that forgetfulness, Yoongi was heartbroken. But soon, the fae had set up speakers throughout the house, for ambient noise so there was never silence and clocks in every room of his— their —hanok.

“Hey, where are you?” Yoongi asks as they get ready for bed.

Jimin hums a question in response, pulling his shirt off before sliding between the sheets and comforter.

“You seem distant,” Yoongi says. He folds himself carefully under the comforter and lays on his side, curling into Jimin. “Everything okay?”

Jimin gives Yoongi a small smile, reaching out to take his hand. The weight of it is heavy, warm between them and helps Jimin know that his next words are nothing but the truth, “Just lost in thought, I guess. But yeah, I’m okay.”

Jimin leans forward to kiss Yoongi then, pouring all his tenderness and love into the press of their mouths together. His warm lips brush against the older man’s. He feels his heart thump in anticipation and longing as he slides his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and pulls him close. He can feel the slow, steady beat of Yoongi’s heart—a strong rhythm that resonates through Jimin’s chest. There is nothing else in this moment but the two of them, enveloped in tenderness and love.

As they spend the rest of the night taking turns touching skin, trading kisses, and pressing each other into the mattress, Jimin stays present, here, in Seoul, in the hanok they share, with all the love that surrounds them. As a summer rain gently patters outside the window, Jimin snuggles closer into Yoongi’s arms feeling the contentment that washes over them both as they finally drift off into sleep.

#thearmyprof #bts fanfic #bts ff #fae bts #bts angst #yoonmin #angst with a happy ending #romance #bts fantasy au

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