#yoongi magic au

[purpleyoonn]

enchanted 1

C H A P T E R   O N E 

“I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

summary: The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au,

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: starts in the middle of war, violence, angst, death, supernatural creatures, smut, dragon customs, dragon instincts, more to come

chapter warnings: mentions of past sa, allusions to rape, mentions of war, violence, allusions to murder, mc almost buried alive, injuries, talk of different normalized death and destruction, anxiety, mentions of consequences of speaking about anxiety, mc has ptsd, past trauma, trauma responses, mentions people being eaten alive, 

taglist: @avadakadabra93​ @littlebaby-bunbun​ @veronawrites​ @taempress​ @queen-in-the-shadows​ @suckerforv​ @weepingpickle​ @sugasbultornebae7​ @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf​ 

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @yourleftsock @skyys-universe @cryingpages @strxwbloody @drissteele @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou @crushedblackroses @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee  @iiitsmaria  @carolinexkpop  @azazel-nyx@strawberry-moonpies @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @knjkitten @foreverweareyoung7@lachimolala22019 @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc @thenaverse@dahliasbouqet @black-rose-29 @tinyoonsblog @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d@stellauniverse @stupendouscookiehumanmug @tinyoonsblog @veronawrites@tatyhend @singukieee @m0v3m3ntsblog @exfolitae @butterymin @queen-in-the-shadows @anaspectoflife @welcometomyworld13​ @slinekyu​

playlist 

masterlist // chapter 2 

—————————————–

When you were younger, your father used to read you stories of dragon nights and fairy princesses, how the night would save the princess from the horrible evils keeping her trapped, confined to her dull world.

When you were eight, the human world was brought into the horrors of the supernatural, a long going war that started years before you were born. It seemed that the humans were just vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of; foot solders that were willing to do anything for money or guarantees of safety. If only the humans knew they were being lied to.

The Queen of the Damned had promised safety and riches, but in turn sent her minions to destroy human villages across the land. Around your thirteenth year, the same year the birthmark on your shoulder darkened, the King of Dragons, King Min, had sent out his armies to rescue any human villages still within the Queen’s realm, including your own. 

But he was too late to save your family, crushed under the foot of a giant.

Once the remaining humans from your village were found, you were brought to a village within the King’s realm. One of the general’s had found someone who was willing to take you in, said he was a distant uncle on your father’s side.

You had been there ever since, but it seemed as though the man who took you in had ulterior motives for his kindness. That it needed to be repaid.

“Y/n, it’s time to wake up, the sun is nearly over the hill.” Jinsoo, the eldest of the bunch, was whispering, her hands shaking at your shoulders. You groaned a little but moved to sit up from the cot you shared with Lila on the floor.

You moved gently off the cot, trying not to wake up Lila who had been in charge of dealing with the Lord’s daughter the previous night, bathing her and bringing her late-night snacks. It was a tiring thing, dealing with the children of Lord Ahn, but nothing was worse than dealing with the lord himself.

Once off the cot, you got to your feet and moved over to the hook that held your uniform on it, a simple, cream colored dress and a green apron that tied in the back. You liked that the apron held pockets; the chef sometimes like to sneak the servant’s snacks, like bread and a couple grapes, slipping them in the pockets in passing.

After getting dressed and putting your hair up, you made your way to the main room within the servant’s quarters where the assignments were placed by Lady Ahn. The Lord’s wife had a specific way of upkeeping the manor, and always needed to make sure everything was up to her standards.

And her standards were high, almost unrealistic at times, especially when there were guests in the manor. The Ahn’s liked to entertain guests, mostly other Lord’s and Lady’s that held the same standards as the Ahn’s.

One day you remember having to trim the grass below one of the balconies with a single blade, Lady Ahn claiming that her friend had only wanted to see grass blades of the same height under her balcony. You spent an entire day cutting the blades of grass individually, under the watchful eye of Lord Ahn and his friend.

You had to wait a couple of seconds behind two other girls before you were able to see your name and your assignment. You had been assigned to clearing the Lord and Lady’s room and straightening up one of the guest bedrooms along with laundry, a chore only recently tacked onto your shoulders.

You sighed before deciding that you could wash the laundry first, working on the rooms as you let the cloths dry. You moved back from the assignment board, a couple other girls taking your place before rolling your shoulders and moving towards the laundry baskets. You grab two of them before making your way to the hallway that led to the kitchens, the only entrance to the servant’s quarters.

As you walk down the long hallway, your mind flashes back to the dream you had last night, the same man with the same shoulder length hair that has been keeping you company since you had been brought here. Most of your dreams took place in a flower garden, his hand in yours as he brings you to the center.

He was always silent, but you felt safe with him, unlike something you’ve ever felt before. Every time he looked at you, your cheeks would become red with heat, his eyes anchoring you to him. It made you want to give him flowers, bring him your favorites treasures with the only hope that he would smile at you.

Last night’s dream was something different, though. He was holding you in his arms, something surrounding you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The atmosphere was warm, and you could feel something wet hitting your shoulder. It left you confused when you woke up, the same feeling of being warm, of being loved sat in your chest, making the rest of your body warm.

The kitchen was already bustling when you walked through the entryway. Greeting the chef and his assistant you move swiftly through the door on the left of the room, leading directly into the dining hall. You never had the pleasure of being assigned the hall, your facial expressions always getting you into trouble. Enough where you had spent over a year learning how to keep your face emotionless. Instead, you were assigned the menial chores of cleaning and “assisting” Lord Ahn in his study.

You move over to the side hallway, just to the right of the doorway you’ve just entered through. It led to the laundry chute and is where the servants held all of the cleaning materials like cloths and the cleaning solution that Hana makes. You can’t help but to roll your eyes when you see the sodden sheets held within the bin that came from the eldest son’s room.

Like his father, the eldest son, Daesung, had a habit of taking the servants into his quarters. Also, like his father, Daesung had a nasty habit of striking out whenever someone told him no. It was learned that it was easier to just let things happen than to risk your life.

You wonder who he took this time, but figured you’d probably find out later that morning when you met the other girls for lunch. It had only been a couple of weeks since you had last seen Daesung, he had only returned the day before after venturing to the next town over, trying to find a wife under Lord Ahn’s command.

Grabbing the supplies you needed and the soiled cloths, you begin to head for the river, since Lady Ahn refused to have you clean the sheets in the sinks. You were lucky not to run into any of the Lord’s family on your way out, your lungs able to breathe easier once you made it outside and away from the prying eyes of the family.

Oddly enough, you loved being outside, where only the trees and the stream could be heard. It helped you be calm, to ease your thoughts and feelings. It was something your mother used to do whenever you got too into your head. She would take you outside, to the lavender patch that resided just outside your small cottage.

“Darling, the earth beneath our feet can do so much more than just grow our food and provide shade from the sun. It can give power to our very souls.” Your mother would tell you as she braided daisies into your hair, something that always managed to calm you down.

“What power, mama?”

“The power to be calm, like the river that runs through the forest. To keep steady even in the face of destruction. But most of all, it gives you the power to live, to face whatever comes your way.” You never understood what she meant, but over time, you realize the peace you felt in the forest was more than enough to understand and take in.

You felt truly at peace when surrounded by the earth and her makings.

And it seemed as though the forest felt the same way, like it listened to your heart beat. You never had trouble walking, unlike your friends who always tripped over roots or broken branches. The flowers you picked always seemed to look the best or give off the strongest scent.

Even now, as you walked down the hill and to the river, the ground seemed to flatten as you advanced. You just figured you and the earth had some kind of understanding with each other.

The river was soothing as you took a seat on the grass, pulling out the bar soap Lady Ahn had you use and the washing board she had brought back from one of her many trips; she claimed it made the cloths extra clean.

It had taken you only an hour to scrub down the sheets and couple of pairs of pants in the basket before you brought them over to the line to hang and dry. Once you had all the wet sheets hung, you grabbed your basket with the washing board and soap and brought them back inside, placing them in the closet before you grabbed your basket of cleaning supplies and made your way upstairs where the Lord and his family had their rooms.

You tried to be as quiet as you could, not wanting to deal with the family this morning, at least, more than you needed to. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you move to the end of the hallway, on the right, and knock on the door. You wait, not receiving an answer, and decide its empty and thus safe to go on.

Another soft sigh leaves your lips when you see the sheets on the ground and clothing hanging off the end of the love seat near the wall. You already know you’re going to have to make your way back down to the river.

You heft the basket onto the floor before moving to the sheets. You use the bottom of one of Lady Ahn’s dresses to grab onto the sheet to put down the laundry chute, grabbing the rest of the items on the floor and doing the same thing. You begin to straighten up the furniture before moving back to your basket, picking out the cleaning solution and a rag before wiping down the dresser, night table, and the bed frame.

Once this was done, you move to the linen closet and grab an extra pair of bedding and begin to make the bed. When you bend over the bed to straighten out the bottom sheet, you feel a hand grab at your butt. 

You jump and turn around to see Lord Ahn behind you, a smile on his lips as he looks down at you.  You stand up, dropping the sheet from your hands as you bring them around to claps behind your back.

“I see the new uniforms fit nicely.” Lord Ahn looked you up and down, even moving your apron out of the way so he could see your figure in the dress. You bit your cheek as his hand brushed against the side of your breast.  

“You should say thank you. We didn’t have to get you new clothes. Hmm?” Lord Ahn’s smile turns up, cheek pushed upwards as he winks at you. You take a deep breath in before speaking the words you know he wants to hear.

“Thank you, Lord Ahn. Your kindness is appreciated.” The words leave your lips, rehearsed and repeated so many times that they tumble out of your mouth on command. The smile he gives at your words is big and genuine. He is beyond happy at the training he has given the servants.

“Now, why don’t you let me see what you look like without them, hmm?” Lord Ahn hums again, reaching for the back of your apron to untie. You don’t move, just tighten your grip on your laced hands as he unties the string. Once the apron is loose, he moves to pull it over your head when the door to the room opens, Lady Ahn and one of the male servants, Minho, stands on the other side.

You relax, knowing the Lord isn’t going to do anything with his wife nearby. She hates what her husband and son do but doesn’t care if she doesn’t know. The Lord drops his hands from the apron, and takes a step back from you, winking again before turning around.

“Uhm, Lord Ahn, there is someone outside causing a ruckus. He is yelling for you and keeping us from doing our duties.” Minho lets out, his body standing tense and still as he does.

“Yes, darling, the man is becoming a nuisance and I would like him dealt with.” Lady Ahn gestures for her husband, pulling him away from you as she gives you a dirty glare, one that means you were going to be on midnight duty that night.

You stand still, waiting until you were the only one left in the room before retying your apron around your back and finishing the room before you experience any more unwanted or unneeded disturbances.

It took a little longer since you were interrupted, but you managed to finish it quickly, remaking the bed, cleaning the windows and even going outside to pick flowers for Lady Ahn’s bedside table, hoping to appease her a little. You didn’t want to deal with Lady Ahn, claiming you were going after her husband again.

Once you were done with the Lord and Lady’s room, you moved to the guest bedroom at the other end of the hall, preparing it for the guests who were supposed to be coming the next morning.

When you entered the room, you were shocked by the appearance of Lady Ahn. She was sitting in the small chair that resided to the left of the window. You remined silent as you watched her acknowledge your presence, getting to her feet and making her way to you.

“Now, we have a special visitor coming later and I want this room to be perfect. Grab the good candles from my closet, and the silk linens from our special collection. If the room is not up to my standards, or the standards of our guest, you can kiss your life here goodbye. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You bow your head slightly, waiting for her to let you know you could go. But she doesn’t, instead, Lady Ahn walks out of the open door behind you, not another word sent your way.

“Okay…” You let out, once you were sure that no one could hear you. You begin to clean the guest room the same way you always would, following the word of the Lady and using her good silk linens and grabbing three candles from her closet. You placed one either side of the bed and one on the dresser across from the bed.

Once you figure the room was clean to Lady Ahn’s standards, you move back to the first floor and to the closet, putting your basket away and moving to grab the laundry you had pushed down the chute earlier. You make sure to try and grab some gloves, not wanting to touch any of the sheets or clothing from the Lord’s room.

The river was starting to warm up, but still cold as you sat again by the river. You had flashbacks to finding Mela’s body at the bottom of the hill, the sunlight coming through the trees almost the same as the day you found her. You remember the way Lila had cried out, rushing towards the body of your friend and bedmate, your own body frozen in shock.

The body had started to come up in your dreams, even going as far as to be awaiting you and the mystery man in the garden. You remember the way Lord Ahn’s face had turned when you and Lila had gone to him, to inform him of what they had found. The way he smiled is seared into your retina, the words his spoke imprinted into your brain.

“Why don’t you two get back to work.”

He cared nothing for your friend and it had you questioning if he was the one who had done it, but there was nothing you could do. You had nothing outside of the manor. You knew no one would take you in, let you have a job or place to stay. Not during the war raging on outside of the walls. So, you listened, continued on with your chores despite the spiral your brain had taken.

You shook your head as you got out the soap from the bottom of the basket, rubbing against the washing board you had rested against the side of the river. You had to be quick, quiet as you worked. The woods were becoming increasingly dangerous over the past couple months. 

Stories of trolls and ghouls making their travels to the neighboring villages. You didn’t want to alert anyone or anything of your presence, even the animals waking from their slumber.

Your mind turned back to a time when you were in school, around the age of seven or eight, learning about the beginning of the war. Your teacher had an entire weeklong lesson on the creatures the Queen was known to utilize, putting the most emphasis on the Ghoul.

A ghoul was a reanimated body filled with the magical essence of the caster who brought it back. They were basically dead bodies filled with magic instead of a soul. Their eyes were uncharacteristically white, irises and pupils gone. Skin grey and ashen, almost see through as their bodies had begun to decompose.

Ghouls were also exceptionally well at sensing humans. Their bodies were attuned to the heartbeat of what they used to be, and they fed on the flesh of their past. It was thought that they could hear or smell a human from miles away.

Your teacher had tried to drill into your head that your safety was only ensured if you remained silent, something that stuck with you, even to this day. It was something that served you well, kept you alive as you went through your days under Lord Ahn and his reign.

“Y/n!” You turned your head, seeing Taemin coming to a stop, leaning on his tree to catch his breath. “Are you almost done? Lord Ahn is wanting all of us to come back to the manor. He seems upset.” Your eyes widen in fear, scrambling to gather the half-washed cloths and washing board, getting to your feet.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” You asked your friend as you both ran back up the hill and to the manor.

“No. All I heard was that Jeongmin can rushing out of his room with bruises all over her face.” You sigh out, knowing he could be mad at anything. Poor Jeongmin just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder if she refused him, even with you and the other girls telling her to go along with it for her own safety.

Jeongmin was one of the newer girls, acquired after her home village was set ablaze during a battle between King Min’s army and the ghouls who had been sent by the Queen to torment.

“Is she okay?” You ask, worried for the younger girl.

“Hana is with her, helping her clean up and put medicine on her cuts.” Oh, that meant Lord Ahn was exceptionally upset. He typically didn’t leave any marks like that, not in anger at least.  

“Well, let’s hurry. We don’t want to give him any more reasons to be angry.” You breathe out, picking up your pace with a tight hold on the basket. Your heart was beating into your throat as you picked up your pace, almost smashing into the back door; you weren’t allowed to use the front door for any reason.

Pushing through the back door next to the servant’s quarters, you hastily set your laundry basket down on the kitchen counter, not surprised when you find the room empty. You rush through the room, almost knocking Taemin down as your hips bump together. Once you get out of the kitchen and through the dining hall, you race to the end of the line of servants and workers, just barely making it before Lord Ahn begins to speak.

“Now, it has come to my…attention,” You watch as his eyes cut over to a silently crying Jeongmin, her hands crossed in front of her stomach and her head bowed. “that a few of my loyal workers have decided to go against my rules and wishes of remaining pure and have had relations with each other.”

Your eyes go wide at the information he was spouting. It was a common thing amongst the workers to have relationships and be intimate while off duty and in the quarters. You knew a few of your friends who were in relationships, including Minho, Taemin, and Lila. You yourself hadn’t really done anything with another person, to worried about being caught and consequently losing your home and livelihood. You can only pray that Jeongmin wasn’t forced to tell the Lord any names.

“You all know the rules, that I don’t expect much when you come into my household.” Lord Ahn’s voice had become deeper, darker as he spoke making your breath hitch, trying not to move. He was now moving down the hall where you all were lined up, looking everyone in the eyes as he spoke.

He was no almost in front of you, eyes looking you and Taemin up and down, probably wondering why you were late to this household meeting. He opened his mouth to say something else when the far off sound of one of the villages sirens went off, leading to the one closer to the manor to go off.

It was like a whirlwind of panic resounded throughout the hall, you being the first to move from the line, hoping to bolt outside when Lord Ahn’s arm shot out and held onto your arm, his fingers dangerously close to your breast as he pulled you closer to him.

“Where do you think you are going?” His lips were close to brushing against your own as he moved in. You could feel Taemin move closer to you, ready to pull you from your master’s bruising grip.

“That is the unhuman siren, sir.” You retort back, trying your hardest to control your tone as you spoke, your face emotionless from years of practice. You knew better.

“And? I did not give anyone permission to move from their spots in line.” He snaps back, pushing you away from him and you would have fallen if Taemin had not caught you and helped you steady yourself.

“Now, this is a new development. Since you all seem to think the agreements we made when you first got here are null, I think it’s time you learn your lessons.” Lord Ahn begins to move back, towards the split in the hallway that would lead him to the front door.

“You all can remain here, know what it means to be wards of Lord Ahn. Keep my manor clean, as I’m still sure we can be expecting our esteemed guest soon. My family and I will go and see what is going on.” The same smile he wore when he was taking advantage of you was worn on his lips, the glint in his eyes meaning he knew exactly what was going on outside of the manor.

He planned to trap you in here and save himself and his family. You were in shock. You looked back at Taemin, wondering if he heard and saw what you did, only for his mouth to be open, eyes matching yours.

“Jinyoung, Hanmin, come. I’m sure my family and I will need help.” You watch the two larger men walk forward, hearing them grumble under their breathes as they walked past you.

Once the three men were out of hearing distance, you turned to look for Jinsoo, but you didn’t see her. You can only assume she is assisting Lady Ahn. Hana, the second eldest, begins to reassure the rest of us that nothing was going to happen, that we were fine as long as we stayed in the manor. She set about giving us jobs in pairs or groups, picking you to go along with her and finish the laundry in the kitchen sink while she continued the chef’s job.

Once in the kitchen, you notice some of the cupboards open and the counters a mess. You move to one of the open cabinets on your left, seeing it empty instead of filled with the new loaves of bread to cool. Turning around, you see Hana doing the same thing.

“They took all of the food, didn’t they?” You ask, your voice in a shocked whisper as you see the look of defeat on her face. Hana nods her head before schooling her features and turning to where you left the basket of half-washed cloths.

“Here, let’s get you started over here.” She says as she moves over to the sink, turning on the water and putting the washing board in the sink and the soap on the counter. You stood still, your mind still whirling with too many thoughts and memories.

Hana sees this and comes over to you, helping you move to the sink and places a cloth and soap in your shaking hands.

“Here, maybe doing something will get your mind off of it.” Hana knew about your memories, how they always seemed to make you shake and freeze. She kept it quiet because if anyone found out about it, you could be carted off to a men’s home or killed on the stake. You would be more likely to be sent to the stake because you were a woman, something you absolutely despised.

Hana turned around to the other countertop and began slicing the vegetables the chef left on the counter. She was humming a tune familiar to you, something she always hummed when she was anxious or nervous.

“We are not going to make it out of here, are we?” Your voice is shaky, just like your hands. You don’t turn around to see her, so you miss the way a tear drops onto the counter and her hands begin to shake. Hana doesn’t even bother to answer, not wanting to lie to you or get your hopes up.

You spend a couple minutes in silence, listening out for another siren, or even screams when both begin to sound out in front of the manor. The screams sound like they are almost coming from right outside, making you drop the bar soap and scrub brush in your hands.

“Stay here.” You hear Hana say as she turns to you, her hand out to gesture you to keep put before moving towards the dining halls so she could look out the windows on the far wall. You resign to follow her words, until another scream comes from inside the manor. You shoot from the sink and move to the servant’s quarters, running to the safety of your room.

At least, until you see ghouls outside coming towards the back side of the manor from all sides. They could smell you all inside. It was like you were surrounded, more screams from inside the manor breaking out. You noticed some of the men who worked at the manor running away from the ghouls, cries coming from your lips as you see one being dragged to the ground and his arm being bitten into.

A crackling noise has you moving from the small window you were peeking out of. You had no clue where it was coming from, but the noise got louder and louder until you noticed the wooden walls of the room seemed to be pushing inwards from force. A loud, dragged out groan makes you turn toward the door, slowly creeping forward until you were looking out the doorway and into the hall, seeing a shadow figure slowing inching towards you.

You covered your mouth, holding back a sob as you realized you were trapped in the room. You looked around, hoping for any chance or sign of you being able to get out of the room but you didn’t fit through the windows, you’d barley be able to get your thigh through the slot.

You try to remember what your teacher had told you, all those years ago about the different ways to kill those unhumans we might come into contact with. You knew Giants could be killed by dragon fire, or by silver to the head. Trolls could be killed by being bludgeoned to the head or by being buried. And ghouls could only be killed by dragon fire, the opposite magic to that of a witch.

You were screwed unless someone of the royal army came by soon.

Just as you tried to look for some weapon to at least keep the ghoul away from you, you were being buried under the rubble of the roof as the servant’s quarter collapsed. Your vision was blurry as the rubble settled down and you found yourself a couple of feet away from the ghoul who had been in the hallway, its hands and upper body trying to climb out from under the debris.

You were in a similar position, legs stuck beneath one of the stone columns of the side of the main manor that was attached to the wooden walls of the quarters for support. You could move and feel your legs but was unable to life the column from on top of your legs. You pushed all you could, but only managed to move the column the slightest inch.

A couple of loud roars from above had you scrambling, knowing they were going to begin setting fire to the ghouls, and you were going to be caught in the crossfire if you didn’t get your legs out from under the rubble.

You became trapped in tunnel vision, no sound or feelings being noticed as you hyper focused on the column on your leg, using all your might to push it off of you. You didn’t notice the debris flying or any signs of someone coming closer, walking on the rubble until a loud growl came from in front of you and the column went flying.

You looked up to see King Min, having recognized him from one of the posters hung up in the village market. His eyes were red as he hissed through his fangs. You could just make out the outlines of his wings in the sunlight. He reached forward making you curl back in fear, your body tense as he moves closer.

“Please..” You whimper out, not knowing what the King planned to do, but you felt his hands picking you up, one arm underneath your injured legs and the other hand holding the back of your head, pushing it until your head rested against the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Mate.” He whispered into your hair, making your breath catch in the back of your throat. That word has you blinking away even more tears, caused by what, you have no clue as a slew of emotions moved through you. Your fingers moved to grip his button down, a few of the buttons popping loose as he moved, making you grip tighter onto the fabric.

King Min moves quickly, walking out of the rubble and into the trees, a clearing by the river coming into the view as he shifts, his wings breaking out from the back of his shirt, the rest of his shirt now loose in your grip as he begins to fly away to a place unknown to you.

-*-*-

Yoongi was already having a bad day, under the watchful eye of his best friend and personal guard Namjoon. He woke up to notices of that damned Queen setting ghouls onto two of the villages that lay on the outer ring of his kingdom. 

He was about an hours flight from either of the villages, and his advisor Seokjin, had talked to one of his father’s appointed Lord’s and set him up for the night to investigate the scenes with some of his royal guard accompanying him.

His magical advisor was named Jimin, and he had been rescued by Yoongi’s father when he was a little boy, left to die after his family abandoned him during a raid. He was one of the people going with him to see the villages, as he could sense the magical signature left behind.

He almost never went to actually investigate anything in his kingdom, too busy to leave the castle most days, but for some reason Seokjin was insistent on Yoongi going along, with Jimin bribing him special citrus pies. So, Yoongi set his work aside or gave some to Seokjin, and took the next two days off, setting off in the late morning to the first village.

The first village was completely decimated, ghouls and golems sent to destroy and ravage through the land. He even found a few left over golems still trying to use a hammer to smash a fountain. He had Namjoon burn them and Jimin found their magical signature to lead to one of the warlocks who previously managed to get away from them a week ago.

It was now early afternoon, and he along with his guard were moving to the second village when he received the alert form a scout that another village was in the beginning of being attacked by ghouls.

Yoongi gave the okay to move quickly, hoping they could prevent any more lives lost. Within five minutes he could feel his soulmark burning, letting out a painful roar as he dipped low. As they got closer to the new village, he realized it was the one he was supposed to be staying at that night, and that there was a new scent making him want to release control to his inner dragon and drag the scent to his den.

He knew his mate was close, and for the first time, he was eager to find them. Consequences be damned as he flew faster, urging himself to push through the pain from his mark. He knew his mate was in danger and he needed to be quick.

Yoongi followed the scent of honey and almond, ignoring the saliva building in the back of his throat. What it led to had the fire now building in his throat as he witnessed the ghouls had already destroyed most of the village, half eaten bodies laying in various positions on the ground. 

He chased after the scent of his mate, finding the manor he was supposed to stay in mostly intact, but when he went around, he saw a wooden building had been destroyed, fire now moving slowly over the wreckage.

He roared again when he found his mate trapped under a broken column and a ghoul only feet away from her. He would have cried in any other situation, meeting his mate finally, but now, now all he wanted to do destroy anything in his path…once he made sure his mate was safe.

He saw you moving, arms pushing with all your might as your face turned red, trying to dislodge your legs from under the column. He got so mad he growled out, pushing the column off your leg and listening to it shatter against a tree a hundred yards away.

When you were freed, it was like you only just realized he was in front of you. He recognized the look of fear and recognition on your face but ignored it and moved forward, his only instinct right now was to make sure you were safe, in his arms, and away from the dragon fire coming this way.

“Please…” His eyes almost rolled into the back of his wings as he finally heard your voice, as sweet as the scent you gave off. He just continued forward, picking you up and pushing your head into his neck, hoping you would be comforted by his own scent.

“Mate.” He couldn’t help but whisper into your hair, as if his inner dragon was speaking through him, verbally confirming what he already knew.

Yoongi ignored the way your fingers tightened on his shirt, watching as the top button popped off and flew into the rubble. He moved away quickly, holding you steady as he fumbled on the rubble and through the grass, trying to get to the clearing as quickly as he could. He knew any second his guard was going to start setting fire to kill all the ghouls.

Once the clearing comes into view, he let his wings form from the marks on his back, half way shifting so he could still hold his little mate tight to his chest, His shirt was now loose against his mate’s grip, he ignores the tingles coming from where your skin connects with his, embarrassed at the small moan he had to choke back.

He didn’t notice when you fainted, your grip still tight on his shirt. He didn’t wait for his guard; he just began to fly back to the castle. He needed for the royal doctor to see you. Yoongi didn’t like the look of the bruises across your legs, or the ones showing from the torn sleeve of your dress.

Every jostle he felt, another groan left your lips, making him wince. It was like he couldn’t fly fast enough, the burning he felt in his wings was nothing compared to the burning he felt in his soulmark.

He swooped down onto the landing outside his room once he got to the castle and held you tighter as he moved to the medical wing, yelling for his head healer. He quickly moved to the royal medical suite and placed you on the bed. He stayed close to your side, rustling the blankets and pillows to make you comfy, unknowingly making you a little nest like his instincts told him to.

Yoongi stood by your side, watching the door carefully as soon as he heard footsteps rushing towards them. His lips were pulled up in a snarl, eyes still burning red as his instincts screamed at him to protect his new mate. He could feel his claws extending as the door opens, his body still rung tight even as he sees his head healer walk in.

“Your Majesty, we were not expecting you back so…” The healers’ words drift off once he sees you in the bed, the nest made around your body, and the way the King stood next to you, his dragon features out.

“Oh my.” The healer breathes out, taking a couple of steps closer until he is about a foot away, freezing when Yoongi lets out a warning growl.

“Please, your Majesty, if you want me to heal her Majesty, I need to be able to get closer.” The healer waited before seeing the slightest of nods sent his way, moving slowly as he knew any sudden movements would set off the already tense and upset dragon king.

The healer took a good look at your legs, asking the King to gently move them so he could see the extent of the damage, knowing if he touched you, he would be dead in an instant. He noticed you had some bruising and cuts along the front of your calves, and that there seemed to be no permanent damage. Once he had Yoongi put your legs down, Yoongi pointed to your arms, his dragon having fully taken over once the healer walked in.

The healer noticed the bruising on your arms, scared for whoever caused the marks.

“It seems, your Highness, that someone had grabbed her Majesty tightly. There are handprints right here.” He pointed to the finger marks on your arm, trying not to tense at the low growl that was building in the King’s chest. He was surprised you were still out, but he reasoned you felt comfortable and safe being so close to your mate.

“I will need to give her some ointment and bandage her Majesty’s legs and arm for the bruising.” The healer warns Yoongi, not wanting to do anything to set him off.

The healer worked slowly under the watchful eye of Yoongi, wrapping up the cuts and bruising on your legs and the bruising on your arm before letting Yoongi know that you would need your legs rebandaged in the morning so he can make sure there was no infections but that you could go.

Yoongi relented, not liking the fact that this male was this close to his mate while she was unmarked. His dragon didn’t recognize the healer as safe, so he was on edge and practically flew you back to his room.

Once you were safe in his room, laying in his bed surrounded by his scent, only then could he begin to relax.

Next Chapter

#bts #bts au #bts dragon #bts dragon au #bts dragon mates #bts min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi #dragon king! yoongi #dragon king yoongi x human reader #violence #bts fantasy au #fantasy au #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #min yoongi soulmate #angst #magic #bts magical au #supernatural au #magical creatures #fluff #enchanted #purpleyoonn

[colormepurplex2]

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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#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi smut #jimin angst #bts fantasy au #bts fanfiction #yoonig fanfic #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts magic au #bts fae au #bangtanwhq

[darkjimxn]

Chapter 1: Pilot

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

University sucked. 

It hadn’t even started yet, but you could already tell what your fate at this new school would be. You stood in the front courtyard, staring at the building in front of you while its gleaming 24-karat gold gates blocked you from making the escape you so desperately desired. An enormous clocktower cast a shadow on your form, embellished to the tip with rich architecture and topped with a long, probably gold, spire. Even the grass you stood on was lush and cut to perfection, no blemish in sight. 

You weren’t a fan. 

Everything in your vicinity screamed of pride, yet you saw nothing to be proud of. Just the elite trying to flaunt their wealth in each other’s faces, desperate to be seen as the most affluent. You’d witnessed this game so much growing up, that the glittering golds and sparkling reds did nothing to faze you anymore. 

What you truly wished for was to be anywhere but here, in this courtyard full of students you would have to learn alongside starting today. Coming to this school was no decision of your own and you hated being forced into things. 

But… a part of you couldn’t help thinking that maybe this was better. You knew that ultimately it was your tragic mood that was dampening your outlook on this school and, although it wasn’t exactly the best place in the world for you, it was definitely better than what you had before. Maybe you should be grateful for being thrown here, a place that finally allowed you to get away from-

“Hah!”

Your thoughts came to a sudden halt as you heard the sound of a new commotion brewing amongst a small group of students. At first, you thought they were just noisily playing around, but once you took in the scene properly, you realised that you were wrong. 

A group of about three students stood a few metres away from you, laughing altogether as they pointed at something on the ground. They all wore the same uniform as the one you were wearing, with a mixture of maroon, brown, and off-white topped off with a gold emblem in the shape of the academy’s logo pinned to their chest. 

When your gaze dropped, you noticed a guy lying on the floor between them, his arms propping himself into a sitting position as his eyes stayed fixed on the floor. He was also in the academy’s uniform, with a light brown fringe that did a poor job of hiding a pair of bright purple eyes. The rest of his hair was covered by a maroon beanie, as if he were trying to hide as much of himself as possible. Aside from that, you could only make out the slope of his nose and plush lips. 

You waited for the guy, who had clearly been pushed to the ground, to get back up and give them a piece of his mind. But instead he stayed put, with his head held low and gaze straying from the eyes of the group of three towering over him. His apparent shyness only made the students laugh more as they realised he probably wasn’t going to retaliate. 

The sigh that escaped your lips was heavy. You’d think university-aged students would act a little more mature and not like high school bullies who shoved kids in lockers for fun. But then again, these kids were the children of the elite and wealthy. It’s not like they’d be getting taught any great lessons from their families…

You debated if you should step in and tell them off. The guy didn’t seem like he was going to start defending himself and the students clearly weren’t going to stop after realising that. Everyone else seemed engrossed in their own conversations as they waited for the first class’ bell to go off. Which left you as his only hope. 

If you were being entirely honest with yourself, you didn’t want to. People like him deserved a little misery from time to time and, if he wasn't even going to stand up for himself, why should you?

But being a bystander would only make you as bad as them, and as annoyed as you were by the guy, you didn’t want to be a bully. 

Reluctantly, you took a step towards them. The student closest to you was a girl, clearly a foreigner, with long blonde hair and light greyish-brown eyes. She stood a step behind a guy with dark brown hair, while another boy with lighter brown hair laughed alongside him. 

You decided to confront the dark-haired guy. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Despite your gaze, which had been focused on the guy, the girl stepped forward, directing her haughty eyes at you. 

“Whatever I want? Who the hell are you?” She jabbed, as if you were some fly that needed to be swatted. 

You couldn’t help but grimace. You didn’t want to start a fight with her considering it was clearly the guy that had pushed purple-eyes to the ground. But she seemed keen on being the one to answer, while the other two simply stared at both you and her in amusement. 

Or at least the light-haired guy was staring at the drama in amusement. The dark-haired one was staring at you differently, with his eyebrows pulled together and his gaze scanning your face. You couldn’t understand why he was staring at you so intently, as if he was confused or trying to remember something.

But before you could ask him about it, the guy’s eyes suddenly widened as if something had just struck him. You watched him sputter in disbelief, and then distress. 

“Wait… aren’t you…?”

He quickly turned towards the girl beside him, not even bothering to finish his sentence, “Hannah, we need to leave.”

“What?!” she screeched incredulously, “you’re going to let this stuck up brat tell us what to do?! You’re such a sorry excuse for a man, Jihoon!”

Despite the jab, Jihoon grabbed her arm, bowing towards you in the process.

“We are so sorry about this, please forgive us.”

He grabbed the other guy too and started dragging them both away, bickering relentlessly with a livid Hannah. 

“What the hell, Jihoon?! What are you, a coward?!”

“Shut up! Do you know who she is?! She could ruin our lives, idiot!”

“She’s just another student! What the hell could she possibly do?!”

“No Hannah… she’s-”

You watched the three disappear into the crowds of students milling around while you listened to their voices dissolve into the unintelligible conversations swimming through the courtyard. That left you and purple-eyes, whose position still hadn’t changed one bit despite the threat’s disappearance. 

“Did they hurt you anywhere?” You asked reluctantly, voice void of any real compassion.

Instead of answering, he wordlessly pushed himself off the floor, towering over you when he stood. His gaze stayed on the ground while his broad shoulders hunched slightly, as if he were trying to make himself smaller than he was. But even after a few seconds passed, his lips didn’t open. He simply continued to stare at the ground.

“Seriously?” You couldn’t help after a few beats of silence, “I just helped you and you’re not even going to say anything?”

You weren’t exactly expecting him to throw you a party and kiss the floor you walk on, you would hate to have that from him anyway, but not even a simple thank you? Was he really just going to stand there and ignore your presence?

Apparently so. He continued to stare at the ground, almost looking like he wanted it to swallow him whole. 

You scoffed, mostly unsurprised by his lack of decency. Every day you were reminded that they were all the same, every last one of them. So were you really expecting him to be any different? You should have never involved yourself in the first place. Just standing here now was clearly a waste of your time. 

So instead you turned on your heel and walked away, both grateful and annoyed when the sound of the bell rang across the courtyard.

He continued to stand in the same spot as he watched you leave angrily, guilt eating away at him with every step you took.

I’m sorry, he thought.

I’m so so sorry.

-

-

-

“Welcome to History of Magic 101. My name is Ms. Kari and I will be this year’s Professor.”

Ms. Kari continued to introduce herself to the class as you sat quietly in the lecture hall. She was dressed as professionally as a Professor would, with a knee-length black coat over a light grey knitted sweater, black dress pants, and black slip-on shoes. She let her blonde mid-length hair fall freely on her shoulders while her greyish-green eyes were framed by a pair of silver-wired glasses. It was clear she was a foreigner. 

Of course you knew all foreigners weren’t related, but distantly you still wondered if she was related to Hannah. 

The first day of classes were obviously filled with long and boring introductions, ones that you barely paid any interest to. So instead you let your gaze roam around the large hall, taking in the multiple students sitting alongside you curiously. There weren’t many, only around 20 from what you could guess. 

As you continued to check out the students, you caught sight of the guy from earlier, his maroon beanie standing out in the sea of varying hair colours. The view of his face was enough to make your blood simmer once again, so you quickly turned to the other side of the class. 

Unfortunately, that proved to be a worse decision as a more familiar face caught your attention. 

Kim Namjoon. 

You could recognise that dirty blonde hair, and even dirtier smirk, anywhere. His father was a good friend of your dad’s, so you were pretty well-acquainted at this point. The dude had the biggest god-complex you’d ever encountered and was an absolute sore to look at. Sure his face was half-decent, but the dirty blonde comb-over fade was like the cherry on top to his disaster of a personality. 

He seemed to be paying attention to the lecture intently as he fervently scribbled down the Professor’s words into a thick notebook. You wanted to laugh at his concentration. Did he really think focusing on an introductory lecture was going to help him in any way? How stupid of him.

“So in that case, can I get two volunteers? Don’t be shy, it’s only for a fun activity. I promise,” you caught the Professor ask near the end of her introduction.

You weren’t surprised when you watched Namjoon’s arm raise instantly. He may have been an arrogant jerk, but he was also the biggest suckup you’d ever met. You were sure it was why your father loved him so much. 

“Wonderful! Anyone else?” Professor Kari exclaimed, scanning the group of students. 

As annoying as goody-two-shoes here was… the teacher would definitely appreciate active participation on the first day of school. And as conflicted as you were about this place, you still had to do well here. 

So you raised your hand, earning a pleased smile from the Professor. 

“I’m so glad to see such initiative in the first year,” she exclaimed, “alright, please make your way onto the podium and face each other.”

You and Namjoon did as you were told, standing in front of each other as the Professor walked back to her desk and opened the drawer. Namjoon’s calculating gaze fell on you as he faced you with pure confidence. You could even see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Hey Y/N,” he finally said in that conceited voice he always used, “it’s been a while.”

God was he annoying… But you smiled at the chance to destroy his ego. 

The Professor walked back from her desk, placing a big red button between the two of you. It hovered in the air, as if there were an invisible table under it. No doubt the doings of some kind of magic. 

“Now the activity is quite simple,” she explained, her eyes darting to the wall clock for a moment, “I will ask three simple questions related to the history of magic. Whoever presses the button first gets to answer the question and whoever answers two questions correctly gets extra credit. Is that understood?”

The two of you nodded eagerly as you felt the air fill with competitive tension. The rest of the students looked just as eager, focusing intently on the two of you as they wondered who of the pair would grab the winner’s title. 

“First question,” the Professor began, “how many times has the magic community been discovered by non-magic users?”

A smirk tugged at your lips as you managed to smash the button first, loving the way Namjoon’s expression immediately morphed into frustration.

“In the past, the magic community has been discovered three times: once in 1782, then again in 1820, and then lastly in 1999. Each time, the magic community was able to purge the memories of the non-magic users to make sure the magic community remained a secret once again.”

The Professor's eyes lit up at your explanation, “that’s correct! I’m impressed that you know the dates as well!”

A small smirk played at your lips as you stared smugly at Namjoon, who simply rolled his eyes in response. Professor Kari, completely oblivious to your charades, continued.

“Moving onto the next question: when was the famous Tree of Life first discovered?” She asked. 

Your hand moved rapidly, only to stall when Namjoon’s fist slammed onto the button before you could. It was his turn to smirk now, and he wasted no time in sending one your way. 

“The Tree of Life is known to be an enormous source of magic and was discovered by Park Bogum in 1738.” he answered quickly. He didn’t need any confirmation as to whether he was right or not, he was already well aware of his accuracy.

“I must say, my expectations for this class have definitely risen because of the two of you. I wasn’t expecting such precise answers,” she said, a little surprised, “but with the class almost ending, we should probably move onto the last question.”

The last question… you had to get this one if you wanted to win against Namjoon because there was no way you were going to lose to this smug bastard. His face revealed equal determination to yours, though his may have been just slightly placated by his arrogance. You bet he didn’t even think he could lose, much less was going to. 

Your classmates all leaned forward in their seats, eager to discover who would break the tie despite the fact that you barely even knew them. The tension had clearly thickened, and only one of you would be leaving this place with bragging rights. 

“When was Elitist Academy created, and for what reason?”

Next Chapter...

#Kim Seokjin #Kim Namjoon #Min Yoongi #Jung Hoseok #Park Jimin #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook #Jin #RM #JHope #Suga #Jimin #V #Jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts series #bts #bts au #bts magic au #magic au #jin x reader #namjoon x reader #suga x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts x reader

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 09

One day, when I wake up at 3:00AM, unable to sleep, I will look next to me and you will be there, Sleeping peacefully beside me. And suddenly, the world won't seem so lonely.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Jimin/Yoongi focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.5k ⤑ warnings: implied smut, interrupted foreplay, heavy angst, oppression against mages, jimin as a warning himself tbh ⤑ note: surprise!! i took a few months off from writing this story to pursue other story ideas, but i ended up wanting to come back to this one lol. i have another story in the works, but i do plan to start posting semi-regularly for this series again soon ^^ i hope you guys enjoy! this takes place right after the final of pt 1.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

From the distance, the haunting, sonorous tolls of church bells ring in the hour for the sleeping town of New Haven.

Once. Twice. Three times.

3:00AM. The witching hour.

Monsters and magic are most active at this time of night. Their connection to the Veil – a realm of dreams and demons – is at its strongest peak, opening a window of chaos and mayhem and spilling them into the living world.

For mortals like Park Jimin, the witching hour is dangerous. Humans become prey to these abominations. Kidnapped and sacrificed, they become targets of dark magic, tortured for a mage’s sadistic greed and pleasure.

By law, those cursed with magic are condemned to their high towers and impenetrable castles. But there are some who’ve managed to escape their confinements. Who’ve garnered sympathy from fools they’ve bewitched, and who’ve hidden their unnatural powers to inconspicuously blend in with human villagers.

That’s when the hunters come in.

While the wardens are busy keeping the monsters locked away, allowing them to practice tricks and spells deemed safe by the Devoted, and silently killing them through deadly trials like the Harrowing, it’s the hunters that protect the towns and villages from mages outside their gilded prisons. People who, without law or regulation, take matters into their own hands when facing the Wicked.

History speaks of the war between humans and mages. The human sacrifices, the stolen blood of innocents, the dark summonings, the ominous hauntings, the deals with devils. Magic, after all, is the root of all evil.

And the latest of these horrendous acts is what happened at Blackstone Castle.

Several apprentices rebelled against the teachings of the Devoted and performed a forbidden summoning. The mutiny caused mages to attack the wardens, unleash creatures beyond nightmares into the mortal realm, and escape the castle’s defenses. The leader of the apostate group is rumored to have transformed into a hideous beast that the Warden-Commander had successfully defeated, but by the time the monster was slain, it was too late. Many mages have fled from Blackstone and found refuge in nearby villages, causing fear and suspicion to strike within the communities.

Any mage, surrounded by the temptations of the mortal realm, is a dangerous threat.

Two months ago, when news of Blackstone Castle hit the capital, there was no doubt in his mind what he must do: he had to return to his hometown in New Haven, make sure there aren’t any mages infiltrating his town, and eliminate the ones he finds.

With the key to his grandmother’s floral shop and the blessings of his family from the capital, Jimin returned to town, surprised to see not much had changed since he was last there.

Except for one thing.

The unnamed shop across the street.

The one odd place in town, full of mystery and wonder. What once was ruins and a disarray of abandonment is now warm and cozy with whimsy and comfort. Colorful and mix-mashed, yet in a way that works together. Like it was made of magic. 

And, to his dismay, the cutest shop owner he’s ever seen works there. One that he’s hopelessly fallen head-over-heels with. 

Even though he highly suspects that you are, ironically, the very thing he hunts down.

Jimin reminds himself of that as he sits back on a chair and faces the bed. Under the gleam of moonlight, the dagger in his hand shines. Embedded in the blade are ancient symbols of the Devoted. Once penetrated, it will render even the strongest mage useless, temporarily paralyzing them from using their powers as the effects of the enchanted markings sink in.

An heirloom and a prized possession of the Park family. One that his father used when he became a hero of the town. One that his grandfather used to kill the mage that murdered his parents. And now, one that belongs to him.

He flips the nullifying weapon in his hand over and over. Keeping it close to him, just in case.

In case you suddenly wake – snapping your eyes wide open, the colors of your pupils turning into an eerie, bright gold – and lunge toward him in inhuman speed. In case you levitate off the bed and hurl things flying in his direction. In case the devil’s mark sears red on your skin during the witching hour and turns you into one of them.

Wicked.

Like those corrupted mages – easily trading their souls for wealth, beauty, power, and fame – that the Devoted has warned them about. Like the ones he’s seen attack humans with their unnatural strength and twisted powers. Like the ones who had surely killed his parents.

After all, magic is the root of all things evil.

And you, a mage, are a monster. A human vessel that will inevitably succumb to the darkness and unleash chaos into the world with your cursed power.

His eyebrows furrow together and a deep frown is set on his plush lips

You – the most evil, dangerous, wicked thing to ever exist – continue to sleep soundly on his bed, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. The black dahlia – doused with potent lavender extract – is disposed of, but it’s already done its job. Keeping you unconscious. Keeping you vulnerable. Right where he wants you.

Time ticks on and Jimin tightens his grip on the dagger. He has to act, and he has to do it fast. He’s certain once the sleeping effect wears off, you’ll attack him.

One minute passes. Then, two. Then, three more.

Abruptly, Jimin stands with the dagger at hand. The chair legs scoot back against the wooden floorboards as he steps closer to you, blinking away the drowsiness from the potent side-effects of the flower.

Was he wrong?

No, he’s certain you’re one of them. He’s certain that one or more of them in that shop are like you as well. Mages and monsters.

Yet, there’s no trace of a golden glow in your eyes. No objects suddenly falling out of shelves, no picture frames or doorknobs rattling, no unexplained knocks or whispers. No faded bite mark that a demon left as a claim on your skin.

His fingers barely touch your neck when you make a sound.

A moan.

Of someone’s name.

Jimin freezes, eyes wide as he looks at your sleeping face. He can’t be certain if you said his name or—

A chuckle of disbelief comes from his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair. This should be easy. Insultingly so.

Yet, Jimin finds himself sitting back on the chair and facing his bed for the fourth time that night. He’s had that dagger in his hand since you fell asleep hours ago. He has every intent to kill you and the others in that shop.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he silently takes you in. The distinct features of your face that he likes, the way your lips part slightly as you sleep, the slow sound of your breath and the way your eyelashes touch the top of your cheeks. The way the moonlight is cast upon your bare skin, almost making you look ethereal in the night. 

He thinks about earlier that afternoon, when you came to his shop, picking flowers to lay out a message of apology and confession. He thinks about the genuine surprise in your face when he admits that he loves you too, that you already have his heart. He thinks about how he meant what he said too.

And as the shop closes and the afternoon rolls into evening, he thinks about his hand in yours as he leads you upstairs to his room. He thinks about your shy giggles when he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and the top of your breasts until you start to remove your clothes for him. And as Jimin takes in your body, he whispers that you’re beautiful without realizing the words came out of his mouth.

This should’ve been easy. If he had known you were a mage sooner, before he caught any feelings for you, perhaps this would have been different. 

But tonight, Jimin sheaths the enchanted dagger and lets you live for one more night.

Your dreams. They always start like this.

High walls of a strong, impenetrable fortress made of dark brick and stone. Willow trees in the courtyard, and a prism of sunlight peeking through the weeping, green leaves. Rows of old books stacked together on long shelves with worn bindings and stain-aged pages. Faceless apprentices in uniformed robes, passing through the candle-lit hallways from one lecture to another, their disembodied voices echoing down the long passageways. Plated armor and concealed weapons of guards that look down at you with disdain.

Blackstone Castle.

Once upon a time, that place was all you’ve ever known. An institution where you’ve excelled too well in the classroom lessons and teachings. Where your exposure to the outside world is limited through words on paper and stories from fellow apprentices of what they could remember before coming to the castle. A so-called home where you had the promising future of becoming one of the best enchanters among your peers.

You lean back against your chair in the lecture room. Notes in your handwriting are on the desk, detailed with whatever you thought is important to note. You tilt your head, frowning a bit in confusion as your hand continues to write.

You’re … actually not sure what you’re taking notes on. The longer you look at the scribbled words, the more ineligible they appear.

The sound of giggling catches your attention. When you glance at the source of the noise, you drop the quill in shock.

Mina?

At the back of the lecture room, Hoseok and your old roommate are snuggled together. Neither of them are paying attention to the lesson, shamelessly making out and touching each other through their clothes. You see her running her hand through his hair and tugging him closer as their tongues slip in each other’s mouths. Although they’re sitting a bit far, you could hear Hoseok as if he’s right next to you. You hear him tell her, “It should’ve been you that made it out of the Harrowing instead.”

“Hoseok?” you utter, your voice pathetically soft. Why would he say that?

When you finally force yourself to look away, Namjoon stands before you. No longer are you in a lecture room, but at the library. His face is completely neutral. Guarded. He asks you, “What is it that you want?”

“I just…” you begin, but before you could answer, he pushes you down on the table.

“I’m not your boyfriend. I couldn’t care less about what we are,” Namjoon tells you as he pins you down. His hand flips up the end of your dress. “There’s only one thing I want from you.”

When you exhale, it’s shaky. Like you’re trying not to sob.

Before anything happens, Namjoon is shoved away. When you turn around, you’re in the ritual room. Seokjin has his hands full, fighting beastly creatures from the Veil with a sword and shield. He shouts for your help, and it takes you a moment to process that you’re in the middle of a battle.

You need a weapon.

The tower rumbles and debris falls from the ceiling. Your heart races as you look through the rubble for a wand, a tome, anything to help Seokjin.

But you’re too late.

An anguish scream cuts you deeper than any blade. Panic and fear seizes your entire body as you watch him slump to the ground. The battlefield is deathly quiet, and you’re sitting there, alone, cradling his head on your lap and crying apologies for what feels like hours.

“Scary.”

Through your tears, you see one other person standing in the distance. You sniffle when you recognize who it is. “Jungkook?”

“You did that to him,” Jimin says from the other side of the room, opposite of where Jungkook is. “You couldn’t save him. This is your fault.”

“I know, but—”

“Scary,” Jungkook repeats, both of them looking at you like you’re something evil. Black smoke swallows them whole, thick as clouds. It takes over the room, Seokjin, and eventually, it takes over you as well.

But once it clears, you find yourself in a séance room. Taehyung sits across from you in a black and gold cloak and a crown on his head. He shuffles tarot cards and asks you the same thing Namjoon does. “What is it that you want?”

“Love,” you answer. Exhausted. Heartbroken.

You don’t want to be seen as a monster. You don’t want to have these doubts. These insecurities. This nightmare.

He sets down one card in front of you. The Reversed Hermit.

Betrayal. Isolation. Paranoia.

As it sinks in, you realize that Taehyung has disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Truly, you are alone again.

You’re not sure how long you sit there in the deafening silence. Wax melts from the candlesticks as the fire burns down the wick. The shadows in the room stretch longer, surrounding you in darkness. But the thoughts in your head are loud, calling you loveless, weak, incompetent, never enough.

Suddenly, you hear music playing. A soft, faint melody from a piano.

You don’t want to be here anymore, so you run toward the sound. A sense of déjà vu hits you as you exit the séance room and find yourself in a long, dimly-lit hallway full of identical doors. Just like your Harrowing, each door you enter leads you to the same hallway over and over and over and over. Despite how gentle the music sounds, you feel desperate to reach it. To see him.

Relief washes over you when you finally do.

In the domain where you first saw him, Yoongi stands behind a piano, dressed head to toe in all black with silver jewelry. One hand presses the black and white keys of the grand instrument, absently playing a tune you vaguely recognized. One he’s certain would bring you right to him.

He glances at you expectantly. A faint smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

Without hesitation, you run toward him, lost and then found. Grief, fear, doubt, and anxiety melt away the moment you’re in his arms. “Yoongi!”

Your familiar pulls you close, brushing his lips against your hair, just as a sharp sting claws into your inner thigh. You whimper and gasp from the pain, squirming in his arms, but Yoongi grabs your jaw and continues to kiss you like nothing is happening.

When the pain subsides, Yoongi finally lets you go. You back away from him, breathing hard, and finally, you notice the golden color in his eyes. He doesn’t move as he peers down on you, lips tugging a bit with an arrogant smirk.

Hesitantly, you lift the bottom of your dress to look at your thigh. A strange, red mark is visible on the skin.

Yoongi merely tilts his head and reminds you, “You’re mine.”

A loud wail is what wakes Jimin from his sleep. His body jerks in reaction, and before he realizes it, he’s tumbling off the chair and onto the wooden floor.

As clumsy as he is, this isn’t unusual for him. He is, however, surprised to see your black cat glowering down at him. Its tail swishes back and forth slowly as an annoyed grumble comes from its chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize, holding a blanket over your body with one hand and shutting the window with the other. “He was crying outside.”

Jimin blinks slowly at you, and then turns his attention back to the cat, who continues to glare down at him. He squints back and whispers, “Isn’t it too early in the morning to be a menace?”

Yoongi gives a grunt of a meow. As if Jimin should’ve known better than to question it.

“I should get going anyway,” you tell him, your voice soft and sad. If Jimin wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly is now. He pushes himself up and sees the redness in your eyes and face. You’ve been crying. “I didn’t mean to stay overnight.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin gently asks, jumping to his feet. He starts to approach you, but stops himself. His eyes linger at the blanket you have loosely around you, and how, somehow, you’re even more beautiful to him in the daylight. 

You peek at him with wet eyes. Even now, there’s not a trace of wickedness in them at all. “I’m okay. Bad dream.”

Yoongi meows and rubs himself against your legs, trying to comfort you. A wry smile touches your lips as you bend down to pet him, quietly assuring him again that you’re okay. It feels like this is something that happens every now and then.

When the connection between you and the Veil are the strongest.

It’s subtle, but it’s still proof that Jimin isn’t wrong about what you are after all. He’s never been to a Harrowing, and he knows very little about the Veil itself, but mages leave their physical forms behind to enter that dream-like realm. In order to seek truths, gain knowledge, enhance their skills, and meet both good and evil spirits that reside in that world. It shouldn’t surprise him that mages that fall into a deep sleep during the witching hour could be affected by the Veil.

Jimin crouches down to meet your eye-level. There’s a pleasant smile on his lips as he reaches over to rub your back. “Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

You feel good after a long sleep, a good cry, and dipping into the warm water of a bath. The others at the shop are worried about you, even though you’re just across the street. Yoongi tells you as much as he helps you wash up.

“I know. I meant to go home last night.”

Your memory is a bit fuzzy, but that much, you know, is true. Sometimes, when it feels like you’re dreaming in the Veil, it’s hard to distinguish reality and dreams. You look at your thigh, where you envisioned the devil’s mark to be, and see nothing out of the ordinary on your skin.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues to rub soap on your back and shoulders. It feels nice. You start to lean in on his touch and sigh with content. Then, he asks, “Did anything happen?”

“Other than the obvious? No. I just fell asleep,” you answer, almost certain that there isn’t more to the story. Wake pulled you out of sleep as gently as the nightmare ended, and as you laid on Jimin’s bed, you were overwhelmed with emotion. Every detail, every word from your dream, you remember it. But through the tears in your eyes, you saw Jimin sleeping on a single, uncomfortable chair, facing you and dressed in his clothes from the night before. He had let you sleep on his bed throughout the night, watched over you, and kept you safe. And somehow, just seeing Jimin there with you after a terrible nightmare only reassured you that you were okay. That a dream was just a dream. “I really like him, Yoongi.”

“I know you do,” is all he says. You don’t need to face him to know that he isn’t entirely happy with it. “I just want you to be careful around him.”

“I will, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry about me.”

It isn’t long until you’re out of the bath and dressed up. The two of you are relatively silent as you face a mirror and use magic to fix your hair. Then, Yoongi asks, “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

You glance at him from the reflection. He’s dressed in black clothing and silver jewelry, just as you imagined him. His eyes, however, are normal. Dark, inquisitive, and gentle. Unlike the haunting yellow from your nightmare.

“No. Not yet,” you reply, your hand twitching as you try not to touch your thigh. There’s no pain and no strange mark, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamed of it. The mark that Yoongi mentioned once in passing to further strengthen a bond between a mage and their familiar. “Soon, though.”

You’d think those kinds of dreams would’ve stopped by now, especially after hearing from the boys themselves that they loved you. It feels silly to even question it when it’s obvious that they do. Yet, the same dreams keep occurring over and over, filling your mind with doubt and insecurity.

“Okay.” Yoongi stands next to you as you finish getting ready. “You look nice today.”

You grin at him, a little shy from the compliment, but tease, “Are you saying that I look bad other days?”

“You look nice every day,” he corrects with a shy kiss on your cheek. Then, before you could retort, he’s back into his cat form. You smile at him lovingly and hold him in your arms, feeling the rumble of his purrs vibrate from his body.

Downstairs, Jimin finds himself in a bit of a dilemma.

He has nothing to eat for breakfast.

Work has him traveling out of the shop often, delivering bouquets to customers, picking up new supplies and flowers, and even stopping by local guilds to pick up any magic-related reports to take up. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s rarely home to stock up on his personal pantry.

He’s still rummaging around for something when you finally come down with Yoongi in your arms. “Jimin?”

“I’m back here!” he shouts, grabbing pieces of stale bread and a half-empty jar of strawberry jam. This will have to do for now, he supposes, though it clearly isn’t enough for both of you. When you enter the back room, he tries to bite into the hard, jam-coated piece of bread and asks, “Breakfast?”

“I think I’m good,” you tell him, looking around. It’s notably empty, you realize, as you turn your attention back to his plate. “Is that all you’re having?”

“Maybe it’s a better idea that we eat out,” Jimin agrees, pushing the half-bitten bread aside. He isn’t hungry for that anyway. If it were up to him, he’d take you right back upstairs and have you stay with him a little longer.

He takes a quick glance at the cat in your arms, who seems to hold a steady glare at him. As if daring Jimin to make a move on you while he’s around.

You smile at him. “I know a place we can go.”

Across the street, the aroma of baked bread and brewed coffee welcomes you into the little shop. Seokjin is up bright and early, humming quietly to himself as he carefully puts pastries on a display case. Hoseok pours coffee into several mugs and adds cream and sugar to everyone’s preferred taste. Namjoon is doing an inventory check with Taehyung and Jungkook, writing down what he needs to shop for when he goes to the market later that morning. But as soon as the bell chimes from the front door and you step through the threshold, a sweeter welcome awaits you.

“You’re home!” Taehyung exclaims with a big, boxy smile and pulls you and Yoongi into a tight hug. The cat meows in protest in your arms, but it’s muffled when Jungkook giggles and joins in the group hug as well.

“We were worried about you, pretty girl,” Hoseok comments, holding two mugs for you and Yoongi in his hands, though he seems relieved to see you.

“Yeah, you didn’t come home last night,” Namjoon agrees as he and Seokjin come into the entrance together.

“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Jimin says from behind you. He steps into the shop with a sheepish smile on his face, seeing that he’s faced with the very over-protective men you live with.

Seokjin scoffs under his breath. “That explains a lot.”

“Is it okay if he stays for breakfast?” you ask them, hopeful. There’s a bit of hesitance, as if they’re not really sure what to make of you and Jimin still.

“Yeah, why not? The more the merrier,” Namjoon quotes with a shrug.

Your heart feels warm at their acceptance. Seeing the boys all together in one room, all seven of them, it feels right. It feels complete.

Both Hoseok and Namjoon look at you with so much care in their eyes, scolding you lightly for making them worry. Seokjin smiles at you, alive and well, before he takes Yoongi from your arms to help him in the kitchen. Taehyung and Jungkook refuse to leave your side, still keeping you in their hold until Seokjin bats them away.

If this is all a dream, it’s the cruelest one yet.

Hoseok hands you your coffee and smiles brightly at their guest. “I’ll get another mug. Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee, Jimin?”

Breakfast goes surprisingly well. Laid out on the table are sunny-side eggs, crispy pork belly, toasted bread with butter and jam, a bowl of fresh fruits, vegetable pancakes, and leftover stew from the night before. It’s a feast compared to what Jimin tried to eat at his own shop earlier that morning.

Everyone sits together on the long table, happily chatting and eating. Hoseok feeds Taehyung and Jungkook food from his plate before he eats himself. Seokjin tries to fish for compliments from you and Namjoon for working so hard in the kitchen. Even Yoongi – who strangely appears when the cat disappears – takes a seat beside you and immediately reaches into the fruit bowl for tangerines. 

It’s a little strange, but Jimin seems to fit in really well. Both Hoseok and Taehyung include him in their conversations, asking him what his opinions are about if tigers or bears are the superior animal or the types of cool dances that they’ve seen at the town square. Namjoon and Seokjin make him laugh at their witty banter, and how they bring out the goofiest sides of each other. Even Jungkook is excitedly clapping his hands and giggling at their antics before cutely asking Jimin if there’s any pork belly left on his side of the table. And while he’s certain that Yoongi hates him, he’s surprised when he is offered a piece of his peeled tangerine.

There’s a sense of belonging that Jimin can’t really describe when he’s around you guys. Something that he hasn’t really felt anywhere else.

It’s a stark difference to when he returns to his lonely flower shop afterwards.

Floral fragrances greet him as he walks in the door instead of the aroma of baked good and brewed coffee. There’s a notable silence that fills the room when there aren’t any customers around, unlike at the lively shop across the street, where there’s always music playing and people talking. It feels cold and empty, far from the warm and homey feelings of yours.

Running a shop by himself keeps him busy. It’s hard work and long days, but he likes the smile on people’s faces when they find exactly what they’re looking for, or when he delivers things he’s made to his customers.

Today isn’t any different. Except, it is.

Because just across the street, you’re there. He can see you welcoming curious people inside, checking on the plants outside the shop that Jimin helped you garden with a raven perched on your shoulder, going to the market as Namjoon holds your waist and Jungkook holds your hand, and coming back to the shop less than an hour later and being showered with affectionate greetings from the others upon your return.

Because Jimin can’t stop thinking about how you and the others across the street are supposed to be wicked, evil, vile creatures that feast on the blood of innocents and animal sacrifices instead of tangerines, coffee, and bread. That you must’ve bewitched humans to do your bidding, even though it clearly seems that Seokjin has a mind of his own and wants to be with you all. That you’d use your power to bring chaos and destruction to the world instead of love and comfort in your shop.

Because Jimin realizes that he can’t kill you because he loves you. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though it’s his job to eradicate people like you from his town. 

Yet, here he is, thinking about how concerned he was when you woke up crying. How troubled he felt when he wasn’t able to make breakfast for you. The way he felt a bit nervous entering your shop and facing your other lovers. How they all tried to make him feel welcomed anyway, even if there’s some uncertainty with how they feel toward him. How the morning after with you was nice until he had to return to his shop alone.

The enchanted dagger upstairs is locked away in his room, waiting to be used. Eager for that next opportunity when you’re alone with him. But Jimin, who watches you from his shop’s window with a forlorn sadness, wants to keep you with him a little longer.

And that, truly, is a problem.

“We need to talk.”

Your heart stutters nervously at the words. Silently, you exchange looks with Seokjin, who is washing dirty dishes next to you. But you know why Namjoon is suddenly summoning you all for a family meeting.

At the market, you noticed it. You’re certain Namjoon and Jungkook did too with the way they tightened their hold around you.

In the town square, they were there.

Hunters.

Many of them are talking about Blackstone Castle and the mages that have escaped. They’re asking townsfolk if they’ve noticed anything suspicious, advising people to stay indoors at night, taking notes of any clues they find through their investigations. The three of you manage to avoid them on the way to the market, but it’s clear that their very presence is a threat: the hunters are here, and they’re looking for you.

“It’s too dangerous now,” Seokjin whispers, worried. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you sit beside him. “We’ll be safer if we get out of town.”

“Where would we go?” Namjoon questions, a bit frustrated. You can tell he’s trying not to raise his voice. “This is our home. We’ve just started to settle down.”

“All the rooms aren’t filled yet,” Taehyung points out as his eyes lock with yours. He’s been certain that Jimin is the last one. That the final room in the shop belongs to him.

Jungkook sighs heavily. “What do we do?”

Running away isn’t an option. You guys already did that, and you don’t want to leave this place behind. Fighting them would only bring more unwanted attention toward you and the shop. Even you’re a bit stumped with what to do next.

“More and more of those hunters are coming into the town,” Hoseok says with a frown. “We have to be careful. We have to look out for each other.”

Namjoon nods his head. “Just as we always do.”

Yoongi catches your eye this time. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

The others look at you as well. Yoongi doesn’t have to say his name for you to know who he’s talking about. You’re the one who knows Jimin the most. They trust your judgment, despite any divination readings Taehyung has on him.

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “I trust him.”

By the late afternoon, as things begin to wind down, you return to the flower shop with containers of food from your shop. “I don’t know if you ate your dinner already, but we made these for you.”

He smiles fondly at you, touched by the sweet gesture as he takes the containers from you. “Thank you, baby. I’ll eat it well.”

As he leaves to put the food away in the back for later, you take a walk around. His shop is empty of customers. Various flowers in full bloom sit prettily on display in arrangements and in pots. Everything is beautiful and pleasing to look at.

Though, you notice that there aren't really any personal touches in Jimin’s shop at all. No family pictures, despite his father being a hometown hero or that his grandmother had owned this shop prior. No food that he keeps in stock with favorite dishes and snacks. Even his bedroom feels minimalistic compared to what you’re used to at one of the boys’ rooms. 

If he ever decides to live with you, in that empty room on the second floor, what would his room look like? Would it be like this shop? Would it be something different?

As you lose yourself to your train of thoughts, you nearly trip over something.

A bucket of lavenders.

It sits innocently near a painted cart among other buckets of bouquets. Its calming fragrance is masked by the other floral scents in the shop. But it makes you back away from it as if you just saw something truly horrifying.

Arms suddenly wrap around your midsection and pull you into their chest. You nearly scream, wiggling to get free, until you hear Jimin’s infectious laughter behind you. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”

“Yes! How dare you!” you playfully shout, relieved it’s just him. He chuckles and starts to kiss your cheek and neck in apology. His lips feel soft against your skin, and your hand reaches back to touch his neck, turning a bit to kiss him back.

It’s easy to be swept up in him. To get lost in the heat of the moment and not think about anything or anyone else. To push your worries about bad dreams, hunters, and the other boys aside and just melt in his arms. You trust him. You know you can.

But something is bothering you. His mouth moves away from your lips to kiss your jaw and the spot just below your ear, and as you turn your head and sigh in content, you notice the bucket of lavenders again. 

“Stay tonight?” he asks against your skin, eyes hazy with lust. 

You’re tempted. But you answer, “I can’t, Jimin. Not tonight.”

With the hunters in town, you have to make sure that the shop is safe. Hoseok and Namjoon have prepared to sage the entire shop to ward off any harmful intentions to you and your family. And you need to cast added protection spells on the doors and windows so that your shop won’t be easy for them to find.

He hums but places another kiss on your face. “We got a bit carried away last night, didn’t we?”

You glance away from the lavenders and meet his gaze. Again, you remind yourself that you love this man. You can trust him.

“Jimin, about last night…” you begin. His smile fades a little as he arches an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m having a hard time remembering how the night ended.”

No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember how you ended up falling asleep in Jimin’s room. The last thing you remember is telling him you had to go back home. That Yoongi would be upset, and Jimin said—

“You just fell asleep, babe. Nothing happened.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It's not that,” you tell him, not sure how to state this without sounding accusatory. You glance over at the lavenders again and quietly admit, “I just feel like I’m missing something. I don’t know. Did… Did something more happen?”

His hands cup your face, warm and a bit calloused. They contract a bit with the cold, silver rings around his fingers.

“What makes you think I’d do something to hurt you?” he questions, trying to sound a bit offended. But for a split second, you could’ve sworn he almost looked amused.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flutter close as he tilts your face up, greeting you with soft kisses again. His thumb gently caresses your cheeks, hands slowly gliding down your neck, fingers tracing your collarbone. Despite the light touches, your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you feel yourself chasing after his lips. 

“Should I remind you then? About last night?” he asks, nose bumping against yours and a hand against the back of your neck.

“I can’t stay,” you remind him, eyes fluttering close. But his lips feel so full and soft when he kisses you. Each kiss entices you for more, and he chuckles when he feels you tug on his bottom lip.

“Then should we stop?”

He pulls away from you a bit, teasing you, but you don’t allow him. Your arms wrap around his neck as you needily answer, “No. Don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jimin praises and rewards you with another heated kiss. You could only moan in agreement, far too distracted to pay attention to anything but the way his tongue slips into your mouth or the way his touch warms your skin, igniting memories of last night with the way his hands roam your body.

With Jimin, it feels easy to love. It feels easy to simply be. Whether as friends, lovers, or something else you can’t quite place, it feels easy to get caught up in the moment with him. Without overthinking of what this all means, without the worry of what you are to him, without caring when the dream ends.

Your back hits the counter, but it doesn’t break the kiss. He feels you over your clothes, and your hands tug him closer.

“Jimin…” you gasp, panting hard when he finally pulls away. He spins you around so your back is against his chest again. Vaguely, through the lust-filled haze, you’re reminded of the night before.

Visiting the flower shop, an apology and a confession, a night spent together. You were trying to get home. Yoongi was upset. The tattoo on Jimin’s chest. A black dahlia.

“Don’t think about it,” Jimin whispers against your skin. He starts to push you down over the counter. Had you been able to see his face, a chill would’ve run down your spine from the way he looks at you in that very moment – like a predator to prey. “Just trust me.”

The chime of a bell snaps both of you out of it.

“What the hell?” a last-minute customer exclaims, unable to open the door all the way to get through. As if, somehow, the door got stuck. “Jimin? Are you there?”

Immediately, Jimin backs off and clears his throat.

“Yes, I’ll be right with you!” he answers, running his fingers through his hair. He stands over you for a moment, protectively shielding you from anyone coming in. When he glances over at you, however, you’re already smoothing over the front of your clothes. Your face is a bit flustered, but not a single hair is out of place. “Are you okay, love?”

“I’m fine, Jimin. I should get going anyway,” you tell him bashfully. He kisses you one last time before he finally lets you go.

With ease, you pull open the front door as the customer nearly stumbles inside. 

When you look back at Jimin, he seems to be staring at you and the door curiously. Then, his eyes lock with yours, and he gives you that same, knowing smile from last night.

The kind of smile where he knows something you don’t. A secret he isn’t meant to find out.

And it dawns to you, just then, that his smile was the last thing you saw yesterday before your world turned black.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

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#magic shop series #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts au #bts fantasy au #bts magic au #bts witch au #bts fanfic #jimin smut

[threeletterslife]

31 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, mentions of death

⨰ wordcount: 21.1k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

The 11th city was a familiar place. Not so homely, but pleasant in its own way. Mostly inhabited by scholars and instructors of prestigious academies, it was quite the busy city. Yet there were no merchants who crowded the streets as they did in the 3rd city and no boisterous children running about as they did in the 10th. Your earliest memories were of adults heel-to-toe racing to their destinations with their noses stuck in their books. Your parents fit right into this crowd as divinist scholars, themselves. And if there was one thing in your life that has stayed constant from birth to the present, it was books—which you never minded. It was natural for you to take up reading when it was all that your mothers ever did. And besides, your home’s numerous reading nooks made it easy to cozy up with a nice fairytale and some thick, fleece blankets, listening to the soft crackling of candles and the pitter-patter of rain against the window panes.

When you were younger, possibly around six years old, your parents kept your birthstone in a little tin up on the top shelf of the tallest bookshelf in your home. It was a precaution most parents adhered to when their child was young. You were allowed to play with your birthstone occasionally but, of course, under supervision. Darlaean magic was never something to be messed with. And often, children did not understand the ramifications of this great power. Yet you were aware of it for as long as you could remember. Too often, you read (or really, looked at pictures) about antagonists in your fairytale books consumed by their greed and their thirst for control, attempting to break the limits of what their birthstones could achieve. There were those who tried to bring back the dead, those who attempted to force others to love them, and those who wanted to live forever. In the end, they would always spiral into mania or be forced into defeat by the protagonist. It went without saying that power came with handling the Darlaean birthstone, and that much sheer power always scared you—even as a child. 

But you were still fascinated with your birthstone. It was a beautiful, white diamond—so tiny, so easy to lose, that you always felt the need to guard it with your life. You loved the way it would glint in the sunlight and cast small rainbows on your palm. You loved the way it felt when you carefully rolled it around in your hands, memorizing its shape and size. You even adored that it wasn’t a perfect sphere and had a little characteristic black carbon spot near its surface. You used to tell your parents that you could tell your birthstone apart from an entire heap of other diamonds. They’d always laugh and pat your head as if you were telling a joke, but you were always serious.

Your birthstone became your most prized possession. You polished it, sang to it, treated it as your doll, which your parents also found quite humorous. Though you weren’t familiar yet with how to use your birthstone to channel magic, you could already feel the sheer energy coursing through your veins every time you picked it up. It was such a good, intense feeling that you would often beg your parents—whoever didn’t have her nose stuck in a book—to reach for the tin hidden on the bookshelf so you could hold your birthstone in your hands again. 

As you grew in age, your parents became more lenient with their household rules. They allowed you to eat sweets before bedtime. They began letting you sleep in during the weekends. They no longer kept the tin can far out of your reach. You realized only years later that they’d simply forgotten to hide it away once their research began picking up and their schedules became hectic. But you didn’t mind so much that your parents could no longer read to you before bed every night and were no longer present during dinnertime. Living in the 11th city, where you were practically the only child in a place bustling with well-read adult scholars, forced you to appreciate your own company.

You continued reading your adventure-filled fairytales, living vicariously through the topsy-turvy lives of legends and heroes. The best tales were always the ones with happy endings. And happy endings came when the protagonist was strong enough to defeat the villain. It made you starry-eyed and hopeful. When the world became doused in flames one day, you dreamed of being the one to extinguish them. Or, at least play a small part in it. And what better way to prepare for this moment than to practice your magic?

You spent hours hunched over on the floor of your living room, experimenting with your birthstone. The familiar smell of eucalyptus, the emerald green carpet underneath your legs, the wax candles lining the edge of the room (a total fire hazard amongst all of the books surrounding it)—they’re all sensories so familiar to you. Of course, on some days, patches of that emerald green carpet would be a bright shade of orange or clashing stripes of yellow and magenta. Sometimes the beige wax candles would flicker green for a moment. Other times, the eucalyptus leaves would turn a bright shade of pink.

You liked this natural ability to make changes. It started off small as color-shifting, temporarily changing the colors and patterns of any household item you could find—once even the grass patch outside your house, which nearly gave your good old neighbors a heart attack. But your abilities soon developed into size-shifting as well. Once, with a bit of luck, you managed to shrink an entire stack of books and in your excitement, displayed your fine work to your parents. Yet instead of being proud of you, your parents had a joint mental breakdown, for the stack of books you shrunk had been their lifelong research. Lucky for them, however, your alchemy skills lacked the finesse to make permanent changes, and in seconds, their research reverted safely back to its normal size in a few minutes. Even still, from that point forward, you avoided experimenting on books for your parents’ mental sake.

On your tenth birthday, your parents surprised you with a gift. You remember looking at the slender, mahogany box, excitement bubbling inside of you. Gifts on special occasions weren’t very normal in your household; birthdays usually passed uncelebrated, which you never really minded, but that only made this gift so much more special.

Yet inside the box was an ugly, gray quill, and right before the plumage began on the stem, your precious birthstone sat studded. You stared at it with a confused look on your face.

“It’s your trinket, dear,” Ma said with an excited smile. “Go on, take it out!”

Mother was also smiling, though she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Ma. “Quill trinkets are all the rage these days, Y/N.”

“It’s perfect for a scholar-to-be like you, honey,” Ma said.

Though you should’ve been grateful that your parents went out of their way to give you a trinket—something you’ll likely have until the rest of your life—it was hard to be happy when it was so… ugly. Though you never exactly had a dream trinket as many others do (you’ve always been more interested in the birthstone itself), nothing about a quill trinket sounded desirable to you. It was forgettable. Drab-looking, too. And you could already picture yourself running after it flying away in the wind.

Your mothers quickly caught on to your distaste.

“You don’t like it,” Mother said, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly.

“Eunbi, I told you you shouldn’t have asked Kihoon of all people for trinket suggestions for little girls!” Ma said accusingly. “What would a forty-year-old man know about what a child would want?”

“She’ll grow into it, Sura,” Mother said. “She’ll appreciate it when she’s older.”

“Face it, Eunbi. We fucked up. What ten-year-old would want a damn quill as her trinket?”

“I said, she’ll grow into it.”

“I like my trinket,” you lied to ease the tension in the air. “I really do like it, Ma. Please don’t be angry.”

She looked at you, shaking her head, her dangly earrings swaying back and forth. “Honey, I’m a divinist. You don’t need to lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Don’t lie to Ma,” Mother said.

“I’m not!”

“We can get you a new trinket,” Ma said. “Something that you like.”

“We have a conference next week,” Mother reminded Ma. “We won’t have time.”

“That’s okay,” you told them. “I like this one already.”

They were skeptical, but you proved to them that you did, in fact, like your trinket by carrying it around everywhere, keeping the gray thing pinned to your hair, behind your ear. But on particularly windy days, you always opted to stay home. 

Yet never once did you ever consider getting a new trinket; your parents would be devastated. And even with your lacking relationship with them, you never wanted to be their source of trouble. Besides, the heroes in your fairy tales told white lies to save others’ feelings, anyway, and you looked up to these heroes, so it was only natural for you to mirror their behavior. After a while, the quill trinket became a part of you, and you learned to cherish it—but only after you found a way to temporarily color-shift it into more appealing hues.

Your parents didn’t interfere with your life too much, but perhaps that was a good thing. You had more time for yourself. They did, however, occasionally ask how your grades were in school, being scholars and all. It made you feel a degree of pressure to perform well in academia. And for a while, you believed you would one day become an alchemist scholar, which would break your parents’ hearts if you told them, so you never did. They always believed you’d become a divinist as they were, which made sense considering there weren’t many moments where you sat down to discuss with them. So you continued to keep to yourself and read your fairytales as a source of company.

These stories quickly became your solace. On your short walks to school, you liked to pretend you were one of the busy adults, sticking your nose in your books and beelining to your destination. Except, while you were reading tales of great courage and empathy, they were reading their serious manuscripts. 

But your childhood wasn’t spent completely alone. You had plenty of friends from school, but they all lived in the 10th city, and you never wanted to bother your parents’ frequent silent reading times to invite them over to your home in the 11th. Besides, you preferred being alone. Other children sometimes tired you, though you never understood why. Perhaps it was because you quickly realized that there was a disconnect.

“My ma said that Pa’s gonna come back this winter! Maybe he’ll bring back some gifts!”

“Where did your pa go?” you’d asked, genuinely curious.

“Don’t you know? Jisun’s father went to war.”

“War?”

There are gasps.

“Y/N, you don’t know that there’s a war?!”

“How do you not know?”

“Why do you think we’re not allowed to go to the 1st city anymore?”

“O-Oh… I…” You had no excuse other than the fact that you were never taught that there was a war. Your parents never mentioned it, and you assumed the wars in your fairytales were always fiction. 

“That’s funny, Y/N. I always thought you were gonna fight in the war.”

“Me too!”

“Me?” you asked, bewildered.

“You always carry your trinket with you,” Jisun said, pointing at the pink feather behind your ear. “My ma says only soldiers carry around their trinkets everywhere.”

“I-I just like having it near me…” The heroes in your fairytales carried their trinkets everywhere, to be able to react swiftly when problems occurred. 

“My ma won’t even let me leave the house carrying my birthstone,” Jisun continued. “Do your parents want you to become a soldier?”

“No…”

“Oh.” There is a slight pause. “Wanna grab pastries at the bakery? It’s in the 10th city, though.”

“I’m okay,” you said. “I have to go home.”

You’d quickly left that day, locking yourself in your room and staring up at your ceiling in deep thought. A week later, you finally built up the courage to confront your parents.

“Mother, Ma, is there a war?” 

Both of your parents looked up from their readings in shock.

“Oh, honey…” Ma said. “Yes… the war…”

The ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ got caught in your throat, but it didn’t matter that you didn’t say it because they seemed to glean it from your expression, anyway.

“We didn’t want you to panic,” Mother said. “But the war has been going on for decades. Over a century, even. It’s a stupid game of power, anyway. The only thing affected by it is the lives of pathetic soldiers.”

“Eunbi!” Ma said. “She’s a child. Let’s try to have some filter, please.”

“She needs to face the reality of the war,” Mother said. She turned to you. “Don’t waste your time and breath on it, Y/N. We’re all above it.”

“My friends told me that they thought I wanted to be a soldier.”

“What?!” Mother said, clearly offended for you. “How?”

“Because I always carry my trinket around.”

“They… don’t carry their trinkets around?” Ma asked.

“No, Ma, they don’t have trinkets yet,” you said.

“What do you mean they don’t have trinkets yet?” Mother frowned.

“Well… It’s just that they’re not allowed to leave the house with their birthstones,” you tried to explain.

Ma turned to Mother, her earrings swaying to and fro. “Did we give her access to her birthstone too early?”

“...Mayhaps,” Mother said. “But it’s too late now.” She made eye contact with you. “Don’t listen to them, Y/N. They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re all children,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not going to be a soldier. That would simply be preposterous.”

“Yes, Eunbi is right,” Ma said, nodding her head. “You’re our destined little scholar, sweetheart.”

Your interactions with your parents were sparse, but that never meant that they didn’t care about you. They found their own ways to show you love, which would have baffled your friends, but your mothers’ peculiar parenting was what you were used to and what you found comfortable. They would often leave new books on your desk. These books were never fairytales—mostly divinist research. But there were occasional alchemy books, too, which you would read over and over again when you were looking for something heavier than your usual fairytales. On weeks when your parents were away to attend conferences, they left you a few extra notes to spend at the mini-markets in the 8th city. They would also leave your thick peacoat out on your chair before you left for school in the mornings if they foresaw the weather taking a cold turn later in the day.

They simply didn’t have time to show it much, but they loved you. And strangely, all you wanted to do was to make them proud, which made you hide away the side of you that longed to become a hero, a successful alchemist—for their sake. 

But there were still parts of your parents that you never quite understood.

They often talked about the 12th city, where the castle grounds lay.

“Oh, Eunbi, wouldn’t it be so nice if we could continue our research as royal divinists?”

“Yes, Sura, that does sound quite nice.”

But these conversations never amounted to anything. All your parents ever did was read; you seldom ever saw them write or conduct an experiment to back their claims. But they were divinists, and they were often blinded by their version of the future, no matter how idealistic it was. You didn’t like that they did this, of course. The heroes in your stories set off to make change; they would save entire towns and cities and kingdoms—sometimes even the world. You didn’t understand why your parents were so content with being stagnant on research that could allegedly impact so much. 

As you grew older, your patience with your parents grew thin. Maybe there was a little bit of resentment there as well, for how could you flourish and become the best version of yourself if your own two parents had made no progress at all? You wanted to make them feel proud, but you began wondering if they would even care if you achieved anything. It was a horrible thought to have. And maybe it was because you were 12 and your rebellious pre-teen phase was kicking in; you were at that age where everything your parents advised you to do sounded stupid or like a mere suggestion. Or maybe this was how you should have always felt, instead of forgiving them and loving them unconditionally. These thoughts and feelings bubbled up inside of you until one day, they burst.

“Alchemy?” Mother said with a frown on her face. “You never showed any interest in it… Sura, what do you think?”

Ma was also frowning. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” she told you. “Why such a sudden change?”

“There was never a change,” you tried to clarify. “I’ve always been interested in alchemy.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mother sighed. “We always assumed you were going to be a divinist.”

“But how?” you said, growing frustrated. “Did I ever read your canvases with you? Did I ever play with your runes? Have you ever seen me pick up your research manuscripts?”

“Well, no, but honey, interests change,” Ma said gently. “Divination… Well, it’s in your blood, sweetheart.” Her nose ring seemed to twinkle as she said this, along with her dozens of other piercings. They did that a lot when she was deep in thought, which was just about every second of the day. Usually, you thought the light was pretty; today, you found it annoying.

“We don’t want you to go down an unfamiliar route,” Mother said.

“Yes, Eunbi’s right. You could get yourself hurt without our guidance.”

You had to resist the urge to ask them, ‘Guidance? What guidance?’ But you swallowed those words. It didn’t matter; they probably knew what you were thinking. “You wouldn’t understand,” you told them instead. “Alchemy is what diamonds are good at. Divinists wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, honey, your birthstone doesn’t dictate what type of magic you decide to specialize in,” Ma said. “There are plenty of diamond holders out there who don’t practice alchemy.”

“But I’m not one of them!”

“How would you know, Y/N? If you’ve never tried divination?” Mother asked. You could tell she was starting to lose her patience. And Ma looked ready to end the conversation.

You wanted to scream. ‘How would I know? I’ll tell you how I know! Because I’ve seen how consumed the two of you have become with divination! Because it’s all talk and no action! Because pattern-recognizing and intuition-honing isn’t real magic, and I want to do something that can make a difference!’

You didn’t say a single word but you swore you saw Ma wilt a little. That’s another thing you’ve always hated about divinists. It’s like they’re always in your head.

After this argument, your parents became even less attentive to you—if that was even possible. They stopped asking about your grades in school, stopped giving you extra allowance when they left for conferences, stopped gifting you books altogether. It made you feel unloved and unwanted, though you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe their research picked up once more. Maybe they were hurt by your unsaid words and wanted some distance from you to sort their feelings out. Maybe you should apologize.

But the other part of you couldn’t understand why you should apologize for something you never said. And besides, if their love for you had purely been because they thought you were going to follow in their divinist scholar footsteps, then maybe you didn’t want anything to do with them anymore. And in that moment of sadness, confusion, and anger, you impulsively applied to the most prestigious academy in all of Darlae—in part of honing your alchemy skills but also to escape your parents, for the dorms in Botswana Agate Academy were rumored to be as lush as the chambers in the castle grounds. You didn’t think you were going to get in, but miraculously, an acceptance letter appeared in your mailbox one day. Welcome to Botswana Agate Academy, the title read. You nearly cried when you saw it. 

You told your parents, of course, and they congratulated you, as any reasonable parents would, but they weren’t so happy when they realized you were accepted into their alchemy division and that the academy required a hefty tuition fee. But attending Botswana was like a dream. They sent you a beautiful uniform, one that was as elegant and pristine as the school, and they even offered to embed your birthstone in a new trinket that was easier to carry around. You considered it, of course, but ultimately decided against it. The quill trinket was really the last thing that tied you and your parents together. And as much as you resented them, you still occasionally felt homesick and longed for the good days when they used to read to you in bed. Besides, you’ve grown quite attached to that ugly gray quill, and as impractical as it was, it was still yours. Like a little quirk. Many heroes in your stories had something that made them special, too. 

But ostensibly, you would’ve been considered special even without your unconventional trinket. Botswana taught you that you had a knack for magic. A “natural talent” was what your instructors were calling it. But they never realized how many hours of practice you put in to get this far.

You were adept in putting your skills into action, which showed that externally, you were, in a way, “talented.” But Botswana also emphasized the internal mechanisms of Darlaean magic, which included unfamiliar jargon and technical terminologies. You tried your best to keep up.

“The objective of today’s study,” Instructor Shin began, “is to delineate the differences between our two branches of magic and its three distinct types. Y/N?” she said, pushing up her silver-rimmed glasses and looking at you expectantly. With her thin eyebrows, even thinner red lips and pristine outfits, she was a respectable (and sometimes feared) instructor. Students often tried to impress her, for she was known to write excellent letters of recommendation to get into Botswana Agate’s sister academy for older students: Aven Quartz. 

You sat right up when you heard your name, your heart already thumping in your chest. Unfortunately, it was normal for instructors in Botswana to cold call, and while it wasn’t your favorite thing about the academy, you managed to survive by simply overpreparing. “If you could be so kind as to start off the lesson this morning,” Instructor Shin said in her rather soothing voice, “please give a general description, as per the assigned reading, of the two branches for the class.”

Your throat felt parched, but you spent three hours last night hunched over your textbook General Knowledge for Botswana Agate Students (the one that Instructor Shin herself wrote), reciting every line in the 50-page reading, committing it to memory, then doing it over again and over again with your own words until the chapter showed up in your dreams. Still, your mind teetered on the line of going completely blank—public speaking had never quite been your forte—but you also couldn't let your efforts go to waste. “I… I believe the two branches of magic are light and dark,” you said a little hesitantly, fiddling with the quill behind your ear. “Colloquially, we call them rational and emotional magic, but those terms are misguided and outdated. Um… dark magic, if I’m remembering correctly, is the kind of magic that requires deep focus, objective reasoning and logic to cast. If the caster is successful, we would call that charm, a hex. I believe that dark magic is said to be reliable and consistent but can behave unpredictably when attempted to be cast with emotion. And um, light magic… it’s the kind of magic that requires channeling one’s emotions to cast what we call a whim. Its range of abilities tends to fluctuate, depending on the caster’s emotional state, so it has the potential to be extremely powerful—arguably even more so than any dark magic.”

Your hands were shaking by the time you finished speaking, and it didn’t really help that Instructor Shin’s facial expressions were always unreadable, her red lips pressed together eternally. But you must’ve been correct because she gave you a small nod, thanked you for sharing and called on another student to answer another one of her questions about the reading. “Tell me, Joonhee, why are we discouraged to use light magic here in Botswana?”

Joonhee was charismatic and confident, and he never looked nervous when cold-called. “It can be dangerous,” he said without missing a beat. “We want our magic to be reliable and consistent, like Y/N said. Light magic is unpredictable and may go terribly wrong if say, the caster’s emotions are extremely negatively charged. It’s only really condoned for our soldiers to use in the war.”

“That’s correct, Joonhee,” Instructor Shin said, nodding. “Though light magic is a useful branch in the face of danger or chaos, it does not mesh well with our everyday charms. Of course, you will be naturally inclined to one of these two branches,” she told everyone, “but to do well in Botswana Agate, you must learn the importance of dark magic. Now, Jangmi, can you tell us if our birthstones dictate the branch of magic we naturally gravitate toward?”

“Our birthstones do not,” Jangmi said confidently. “But I think they do dictate the type of magic we are the best at.”

“To an extent, yes,” Instructor Shin said. “But the general consensus is that anyone can excel at either branch of magic and every type of magic. I, for one, am a so-called destined divinist,” she said, holding up her black pointer, adorned with an emerald at the top, for the entire class to see. “But I teach alchemy at Botswana. Some of you may know me as your instructor for Introduction to Alchemy, and I would like to think that I am fairly skilled at it. So, students,” she said, “never feel limited by your birthstone. Now, Donghoon, what are the three different types of magic and which birthstones are associated with what?”

But poor Donghoon looked like he forgot to do the reading yet again. “I-I… uh, a-alchemy,” he stuttered, “...and healing… um…” He struggled to recall the last one. 

“Divination,” Jangmi whispered next to him.

“Divination!” Donghoon magically remembered. “A-And… the birthstones associated… Uh…” He desperately looked down at the little pocket watch he always carried around—not to check the time, but to stare at the shining green peridot inside the glass. It seemed to make things slightly easier for him because you watched his eyes light up for a second. “For alchemy, there is peridot…” he trailed off, already stuck, but when he made eye contact with you, his eyebrows rose in remembrance: “Oh! And diamond…”

Instructor Shin was becoming impatient, however, so she interrupted him. “Let’s do our daily readings on time, Donghoon. Haeyun, could you tell us, please?”

“Yes, Instructor Shin,” Haeyun said. “There are four birthstones associated with each magic type. For healing, they are aquamarine, garnet, ruby and opal. For alchemy, they are diamond, alexandrite, peridot and citrine. For divination, they are amethyst, emerald, sapphire and zircon.”

“Correct,” Instructor Shin said. “Well, Donghoon, do you think you can enlighten us with your definition of alchemy?”

“I actually know this one!” Donghoon looked excited. “It’s the study of matter and small particles and using that knowledge to reshape our perceptions of them! The basics include color and size-shifting. More difficult charms include masking and true alchemy, which is just turning material into gold. Also, you can technically create things out of thin air, but it’s near impossible. But I’ve heard it’s been done before!” Donghoon sat back in his chair a little too smugly for someone who always neglected to do the readings. But his father was Head Instructor, so nothing could be done. 

“Very good, Donghoon,” Instructor Shin said, issuing one of her rare compliments. “You’re correct. While gold has no monetary value in Darlae, in the past, and before the blockade, we profited from our gold trade, thanks to our alchemists. You’ll learn more about this with Instructor No in Darlaean History. It is also nearly impossible, as you’ve said, to create something out of nothing, but it has been done in the past. Our head instructor, fifty years ago, accomplished this. Head Instructor Jeon was his name. He created a small wine glass from nothing, and we still have it in memory of him. It is displayed in our dining hall if you would like to see it after class,” Instructor Shin said quite proudly. “Now, who would like to explain healing and divination in their own words?”

Even though there was the constant fear of being cold-called, you quite enjoyed Instructor Shin’s General Knowledge course. It was one of those courses that every first-year Botswana Agate student was required to take—like Darlaean History—and you could see why. Though the class was often densely packed with information and the readings never seemed to end, it was also enlightening and put much of your early experience with magic into words. Some struggled with it more than others.

“Hell, I totally fucking blanked in there,” Donghoon said as he scratched his head and nearly spilled the contents of his book bag as he adjusted the shoulder straps. You helped him steady the bag and he shot you a grateful look.

“Are you sure you didn’t just forget to do the reading?” Joonhee snorted as he walked past you and Donghoon, not even giving him a chance to answer. It’s a little rude, but Joonhee’s always been like that: confident, charismatic and cocky.

“Don’t worry about him,” you told Donghoon as the two of you began to walk to your next class, which happened to be an unpopular elective called Fashion Studies. You were only placed in it because you enrolled late—your parents didn’t have the time to sign some papers that would’ve made you an official Botswana student. And Donghoon was only placed in it because he forgot to enroll in half of his classes.

“I don’t really worry,” Donghoon said. He just shrugged good-naturedly. “He and I are in different leagues. He’ll probably become the damn General of the Darlaean Army one day. I’d be lucky if I even pass a single class here.”

You frowned. “Don’t say that.”

Donghoon shrugged again. “I’m only here because of my father. Everyone knows that. I’m just waiting to be kicked out so I can achieve my lifelong dream of starting a tea shop. I don’t need alchemy for that.” He suddenly looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then, he leaned in with a mischievous look on his face. “I wouldn’t even need Darlaean magic. I’d need Solaria’s.”

You raised your eyebrows. Why was he telling you this? Was it a test to see if you agreed? He was his father’s son after all, and there was an extreme backlash in the scholar community against Head Instructor Kim for so openly supporting the Darlaean Army when Botswana instructors were to remain neutral about the war. You decided to tread carefully. “Really? With the elements and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Donghoon said. “I’d need fire to boil the water and earth for the tea leaves.” He looked at you strangely. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you? You don’t seem like the type.”

“N-No, of course not. I’m just… surprised.”

“My father and I are different people,” Donghoon said with a shrug. “He can eat shit for all I care. I don’t support the war. It’s just stupid. People dying left and right. And for what?”

“People die out there?” you asked incredulously.

“What did you think they were doing? Playing tea party? Of course they die out there—our people, their people. We just don’t hear the stories because we’re so far in, you know, being in the 11th city most of the time. Most of our parents are rich enough to keep us sheltered. And we sure as hell don’t learn about it in Darlaean History ‘cause ‘neutrality’ and all that bull. But we might start this new curriculum focusing solely on Solarian war crimes. Courtesy of my father, you know. He thinks it’ll help with showcases, which are military propaganda by the way.”

“Oh…” This conversation surprised you. Donghoon was often characterized as stupid and ditzy by others. He’s the spoiled, stuck-up brat who leeched off of his successful father and had rocks for brains. But that most certainly wasn’t correct. It simply looked like he cared about things outside what Botswana could offer.

“Anyways,” Donghon sighed, “you’re smart, so I’m sure you’ll make correct judgments.” When he caught you frowning, he grinned. “You act humbly, but you’re top of your classes.”

Your face heated up. “Oh, I… I still don’t understand why they publicly post the class rankings…”

“It’s ‘tradition for excellence,’” Donghoon mockingly quoted while holding in a laugh. “And it’s supposed to motivate people like me. Obviously, it’s not working. Anyways, you know, you’re really good at alchemy. Really, really good.”

“O-Oh,” you said, feeling bashful. “Thanks. But I’m not naturally good or anything. I just put in a lot of effort.”

“Mhm sure. There are people like Jangmi who put in the effort but still can’t cast charms successfully, you know. She’s within the top ten in every class except Intro to Alch—the only class that doesn’t use a textbook. Magic doesn’t come so intuitively for others.”

Donghoon was strangely observant. You looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know…”

Your response must have not been so satisfactory. “Hmph. You’re pretty shy, aren’t you?” Donghoon said. “I feel like every time we talk, well, I’m the one who’s talking.”

That made you crack a smile. “I enjoy listening.”

“Well, I enjoy talking.” Donghoon mirrored your smile. “Anyways, let’s go make some damn clothes while people die on the battlegrounds!”

From that point forward, you and Donghoon became close friends. He was easy to be around and didn’t see you as a competition as many of the other students did. He also always declined your offers to study with him, saying that it was only a matter of time before his father would have no choice but to let him drop out of the academy. “I’m aiming for failing grades in every single class,” he told you on your way to Introduction to Alchemy with Instructor Shin.

“Your tea shop dream would be closer than ever,” you said with a smile.

“You get me, Y/N,” was his enthused response as the two of you found your seats in the classroom in the second row.

Today’s class focused solely on color-shifting. Instructor Shin handed out red apples and told everybody to turn them blue. She gave no further instruction, stepping back and simply watching. For you, this was a simple task; after all, you’ve been color-shifting for more than half of your life now. First, you must become extremely aware of the feather behind your ear, feeling the power emanating from your birthstone. Then, closing your eyes, you imagined a world where apples were blue. They’ve always been blue! It was quite the norm. Blue apples growing on trees, blue apple pies, blue apple jam—you’ve all seen it before. Every time you’ve bitten into an apple, its skin has been a beautiful, shiny, navy blue. Why should the apple in front of you be any different? 

When you opened your eyes, sure enough, the apple sitting in front of you was blue—the same deep blue you’d imagined in your head.

Instructor Shin’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything.

Donghoon laughed. “Y/N, in three seconds?!”

You could feel the heat crawl onto your cheeks as you felt every students’ eyes on you. Particularly, you felt Joonhee’s glare at the back of your head. And for the next several minutes, you watched the students around you try their hand at color-shifting for the first time. Most of them were able to change the color of their apples, but it was rarely ever blue. You saw a lot of purples and oranges. And Donghoon, who by habit only practiced light magic, accidentally cast a frustrated whim, which made the apple rot rapidly before your shared desk.

He snorted at his own failure and turned to you. “See?” he said. “I told you that you’re good.”

“I’ve just done this before,” you said.

“How?” Donghoon asked. “Didn’t your parents restrict your birthstone access until you were accepted to Botswana? I know a lot of families who did that in the 10th city.”

“Not really,” you said. “They let me carry it around since I was ten.”

“Hell, they really trusted you.”

It was always a little more like they didn’t trust themselves with you, but Donghoon didn’t have to know that. And besides, now you were partly thankful for your parents’ negligence. It looked like strict parenting stanched magical growth. But thinking about your parents made you feel a little guilty inside since you knew full well that you partly applied to Botswana to escape them after your horrible argument. Still, you tried not to show your inner turmoils and shrugged.

“I guess they did,” you said. “You need me to shift that back? Temporarily, though. I don’t think I’m good enough to do it permanently.”

Donghoon’s eyes widened. “You know how to do that?”

“I’ve never tried, but all I’d have to do is imagine a world where nothing ever rots. And that it’s always been that way.”

“Dark magic, huh?” Donghoon said. “I didn’t pin you for that type, but you’re good.”

You shrugged, and in a few seconds’ time, the apple looked ripe and red again—at least for the remaining class period. You and Donghoon fell into deep conversation after that, mostly Donghoon complimenting your skills and you becoming embarrassed. The two of you failed to notice Instructor Shin looking straight at you with an unreadable look on her face.

Every circa, Botswana Agate Academy invited each student’s parents to what they called Consulting. This entailed the student’s instructors reviewing the student’s standing in their classes and offering the student potential career pathways or advice to excel in the future. Most parents who sent their children to Botswana wanted to know anything and everything about how their money was being used. Your parents, unfortunately, had to attend a last-minute divination conference with their fellow scholars. So last-minute that in fact, rescheduling your Consulting was impossible.

So you sat awkwardly before your three instructors, nervously playing with your trinket behind your ear. “I’m sorry,” you said, embarrassed. “I told them the date three weeks ago… And reminded them frequently…”

“It’s no matter,” Instructor Shin said. “Consulting only concerns you, Kwang Y/N, so you’re all we need to begin.” She shuffled the small stack of papers in front of her and her two co-instructors. “Your rankings are considerably high,” she began. “In the top fifty for all four of your classes. Number one for Introduction to Alchemy, among 600 other students. You’re off to an excellent start.”

You’ve never been able to take compliments well. “Thank you,” you squeaked, awkwardly looking at your hands.

“You naturally gravitate towards dark magic and you were accepted into our alchemy division, so I assume you are also alchemy-inclined.”

You nodded.

“I have a question for you, Y/N,” Instructor Shin suddenly said, which surprised you, for she was always the kind of person who knew everything. “Your parents are divinist scholars, yes? Did they also teach you the ropes of alchemy?”

You shook your head. “No, Instructor Shin. They didn’t.”

“Self-taught?”

“Well, I read many books,” you said. “Um… fairytales, really. But a lot of the… um, a lot of the heroes were alchemy-inclined, so naturally…” It felt so stupid to admit.

Instructor Shin nodded. “I am impressed,” she said, to your surprise. “I have not met many students who have taught themselves the ropes of dark alchemy so well in quite a long time. I want you to audit my Advanced Alchemy course, and if that feels like a better fit, I want you to take it instead of your introductory course and skip the intermediate course entirely. How does that sound?”

Your eyes widened. “A-Amazing,” you managed to whisper in awe. “T-Thank you. Thank you, Instructor Shin.” 

It almost felt like a dream. You? How could someone like you impress someone so skilled and intelligent as Instructor Shin? Not only did she want you to skip one course level but also two? How highly did she think of you to suggest such a thing? You would be sitting in class with students two or three years older than you!

It was the dream—to be able to hone your alchemy skills and actually be challenged in class. And yet… You nervously began to play with the feather behind your ear. Why did you suddenly feel an empty pit in your stomach? It was that feeling of dread, which was the last thing you should be feeling with all this good news. But you couldn’t help it. The thing about good first impressions was that there wasn’t much room to be better. (The charismatic villain in your fairytales always gave off a great first impression!) So how long would it take for Instructor Shin to be disappointed in you? How long would it take before you simply became another student in the crowd for her? How long would it take for you to lose the only support you’ve ever had?

You were no prodigy. You were definitely not a genius, either. What Instructor Shin didn’t know was the amount of time and effort you’ve put into your craft. You didn’t wake up one day able to color-shift in the blink of an eye. You worked your way up to it with much trial and error and sleepless nights in your living room. Your peers simply weren’t given access to their birthstones as early as you were. If they had, they’d probably be at your skill level or even higher. So what if you weren’t able to keep up? What if Advanced Alchemy ended up being too advanced for you? How disappointed would Instructor Shin be?

She seemed to sense your uncertainty, which was so palpable that even a non-divinist could feel it. To your surprise, she smiled, her thin red lips curving slightly upwards. You’ve never seen her do such a thing. But her smile was kind and warm and softened her eyes, and it alone almost made you feel a little better.

“My care for my students is never conditional,” she said gently.

Your head jerked up as you met her stare with startled eyes.

“No matter what you achieve and don’t achieve, I will always wish you the best,” Instructor Shin said. “But you don’t need to worry too much. I believe your accomplishments will stretch far beyond what Botswana Agate can offer. I don’t have to be a royal divinist to see it.” 

An unconditional support system. It felt almost unheard of—something you’ve only ever seen in fairytales. You’ve tiptoed around your parents for years in fear that they would treat you differently after you confessed to them that divination in your future wasn’t likely. In fact, they did treat you differently after your confession, which you supposed subconsciously taught you that maybe their care was somewhat conditional. 

So to have an adult tell you that they would never retract their care for you… It defied everything you’ve known up until now. 

You could feel the emotions swelling in your chest. On the one hand, you were grateful. You’ve always dreamed of having a mentor in your life who truly, absolutely cared for you, and you’ve finally found one. But on the other hand, what about your parents? How was it that an instructor you’ve known for one circa understood you better than your parents ever have? They couldn’t even come to your Consulting! Couldn’t make a thirty-minute slot in their schedules for you. But here you were, hearing from Instructor Shin that you were an excellent student. They would never know of it. Nor did you think they’d care. Or maybe they would. Maybe they were still waiting for you to apologize for that day. A small part of you wished that was true. Because them being angry at you would be infinitely better than them not simply caring. But deep down inside, you knew what was really the case.

Before you knew it, tears streamed down your face.

At first, they were tears of sadness, for you couldn’t help but pity yourself and feel horrible that you continued to push your parents away from your life. But when Instructor Shin took a sheet of paper from the stack in front of her and masked it into a handkerchief, handing it to you with a look of endearment on her face, your tears of sadness turned into tears of joy.

You wanted to achieve great things—not for fame, not for recognition—but for a cause bigger than yourself. Instructor Shin believed in you, so what was really stopping you? You wanted to leave a mark, an impact. Just like the heroes in your fairytales. Every great hero had a mentor who pushed them to be better and inspired them to be resilient. While dabbing your tears away, you vowed that you would work harder than ever before, for now, you had Instructor Shin, who was willing to give you unconditional support. Your dream of one day becoming a hero—of any scale—felt closer than ever before.

Surprisingly enough, Fashion Studies was quite interesting. There were no required readings, no required magic skill set. All you had to bring to the class was a creative mind and a penchant for aesthetics. There, you learned about different fabrics, textures, colors, and the latest fashion trends in Darlae. At first, you and Donghoon couldn’t care much about clothes, but by the end of the second circa at Botswana, the two of you were speaking in common fashion parlance, going on frequent shopping trips in the 8th city and finding the school uniforms to be restricting your artistic freedom. 

In your second Consulting at Botswana Agate, your Fashion Studies instructor, Instructor Yang noted that he never met students like you and Donghoon who were so excited to take his measly fashion course. Most students took electives that required “a little more brain-power” as Instructor Yang put it. You thought it was hilarious to hear that Donghoon was at the top of the class for Fashion Studies, which was the complete opposite of what he wanted.

“I got a little carried away,” was his excuse when you told him the news. “Hell, I’m gonna need to start slacking for my ultimate plan to work. There’s no way I’m going to let this class be the single piece of evidence my father uses to force me to stay here.”

With Donghoon trying to come up with more and more creative ways of getting expelled (refusing to wear the school uniform, never doing his homework, arriving to exams an entire hour late), your first year at Botswana was never dull.

Your Advanced Alchemy class was the perfect fit for your skill level too. You were being challenged (but not so much that you felt like you were behind), and the older students didn’t really see you as a competition but respected you as one of their peers. They also told you everything you needed to know about Botswana Agate—the good and the bad. But mostly the bad. 

“Did you know there are rumors that the curriculum at the academy will change soon?”

“They’re going to make it pro-war, those bastards.”

“Head Instructor Kim is going to run this place to the fucking ground.”

“I heard they’re going to be making courses centered around light magic.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I mean, you’ve seen how often soldiers have been patrolling the corridors and listening in on our classes, right? They’re totally trying to recruit for the army.”

“Yeah, I heard they’re going to start making showcases mandatory.”

“The next thing you know they’re going to make military enlistment mandatory.”

“I heard it’s like that in Solaria.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they just knock on your door, drag you out and force you to fight.”

“Where did you hear that from?”

“Well… To be honest, from our soldiers. So it could also be stupid propaganda. I mean, since we’re on a volunteer-based enlistment and our army would do anything to look better than the Solarians. But who knows? Things are changing.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. If I were them, I’d be embarrassed that the war’s been dragging on for this long. It’s crazy that neither side has agreed to a truce.”

If there was one thing you knew very clearly about Botswana students it was that most of them hated the war. It must be some sort of scholarly instinct. But, of course, there were always outliers.

Joonhee and his band of friends were as pro-army as one could get. They saluted every soldier they passed in the corridors, straightening up their posture and pressing two fingers to their forehead with their other arm glued to their side. You knew Donghoon was joking when he said that Joonhee would one day become the General of the Darlaean Army, but it didn’t really seem like a joke anymore. 

“He’s batshit crazy, that one,” Donghoon told you, shaking his head. “He has to be the dumbest genius alive to waste his talents in the army.”

“Do you really think that they’re going to start to make showcases mandatory?” you said, brows furrowing.

“The parents would never approve,” Donghoon said. “Except my father. Even your parents don’t support the war.”

“So who the hell supports it?”

“Unfortunately, just about every other city,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just that scholars don’t believe in violence to solve problems. That and we don’t have that much hatred in our hearts.”

“I don’t get why your father can support the war, then.”

“Honestly, I think he’s after the money. You know, we get paid just to let the soldiers walk around our campus. The army thinks it’s ‘good exposure’ since they’re looking to recruit top talent.”

“Top talent, huh?” You sighed. “Your father must be getting paid one hell of a lot to let them change Botswana’s curriculum.”

“How do you think we bought our new summer home?” Donghoon laughed but soon stopped when you didn’t follow.

“I don’t get it,” you said. “Why would anyone want to go to war? Don’t you die out there?”

“Maybe they like the thrill,” Donghoon said. “I don’t get it either. You should ask Joonhee. He looks like he’s ready to enlist any day now.”

“But we’re only 12!”

“The younger the better,” Donghoon said. “We’re more malleable that way.”

“Malleable…” you repeated. 

For someone who claimed they never read, Donghoon had quite the vocabulary. He cursed like a sailor, too, which you’ve unintentionally begun picking up. But besides the influence of linguistics, the more time you spent with Donghoon, the more you became impressed with his character. To you, Donghoon was the protagonist in your fantasy novels—a little bit of an outcast but with a set purpose in life and a passion that never seemed to dull. He may be thought of as goofy by his peers and instructors, but it was all calculated. He was a lot smarter and wiser than people thought. And you liked that he knew so much more than you. You had a lot to learn.

“You know, the soldiers have been looking at the class rankings these days,” Donghoon told you, giving you a meaningful look.

“The rankings?” you said, a frown creasing your forehead.

“Yeah. I’d say expect to be harassed by them very, very soon,” he said. 

Sometimes it seemed like everyone except you was a divinist.

Donghoon’s prediction came true in just two days when three soldiers barged into your classroom, swinging the doors open so violently that they banged raucously against the walls. Their jet-black uniforms (even with the silver and purple stitchings) made them look like soot against the pure white interior of the room—like they didn’t belong here. And they didn’t. You could think of at least five other uniform designs that would’ve looked less intimidating, but perhaps intimidation was what they were going for. 

The loud noise interrupted Instructor Shin mid-sentence and she glared at the intruders for a split second before continuing her lecture on Darlae’s 12 cities as if nothing had happened at all. 

“Ahem.”

Instructor Shin ignored the soldier clearing his throat.

“Ahem.”

At this point, most if not every student had turned their heads toward the three soldiers at the back of the class, wondering if anyone was in trouble. Soldiers often audited classes but they never interrupted or drew attention to themselves. So this was quite new.

“If you could so kindly clear your throat outside so my students could continue with their lesson,” Instructor Shin sighed, looking up to glare at the soldiers. They looked unfazed, however.

“We’d like a word with a few of your students,” the soldier who was having problems with his throat spoke. 

“Then it must wait until after class,” Instructor Shin said, swiftly. She pointed at the door with her black pointer. “Please kindly leave.”

“This is an order,” the soldier said, not moving one bit.

“Oh, yes, from who?” Instructor Shin asked, her eyebrows raising as they did when she believed one was lying.

“From Head Instructor Kim.”

Instructor Shin didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t take orders from that individual,” she answered, and before he could retort back, she continued: “You are walking on the territory of scholars, soldier. We do not follow orders from anyone here. We question and we think for ourselves. You may suggest and you may discuss, but you do not order—especially not in my classroom.” She paused, still glaring at the three soldiers. “You may leave now.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense when they didn’t. 

“I’m under the impression that you’re merely suggesting we leave,” the soldier said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And we are suggesting speaking to some of your students.”

Donghoon gave you a look from right next to you, and you can read what he meant as clear as day. ‘Can you fucking believe the nerve?’

“I will not allow my students to follow you out of my classroom and away from my supervision,” Instructor Shin said. “What you need to say to those students, you will say to everyone in this room.”

“You’re difficult, aren’t you?” the soldier said.

“As are you,” she replied. “Well? Don’t waste our time, now, soldier. Share with the class what was so important that you had to interrupt precious class time for.”

Another soldier stepped up, as if on cue, and pulled out a list from inside her stiff coat. “Lee Joonhee, Kwang Y/N, Choi Jangmi,” she read off in a monotone voice. Your eyes widened when you heard your name. “You have been selected as the top students in this cohort of the General Knowledge course. The Darlaean Army recognizes your excellent academic standing and would like to extend an offer to join our rigorous training program for adolescents. This is a valuable opportunity to strengthen your magic with future leaders of the army and prepare to fight for your nation to defeat our common enemy. Congratulations on your selection and we await your decision to accept.”

You could almost hear the ‘I told you so’ that Donghoon didn’t say but was most definitely thinking. 

There was also a deafening and painfully awkward silence that followed after the soldier’s speech. It seemed like everyone was staring at you, Joonhee and Jangmi. The other two were practically bathing in the spotlight, but you suddenly felt the need to duck down and hide from the unwanted stares.

The bigger issue, though, was the fact that the soldiers still hadn’t left the classroom. Did they expect the three of you to decide whether you would accept on the spot? And if so, how would you let them down politely but firmly? It was really no question that you didn’t want this. Why the hell would you want to uproot your perfectly fine life at Botswana to join some training program that would inevitably make a soldier out of you? The last thing you wanted was to become involved in the war. So why were they acting as if this was a wonderful opportunity for you? War was where you went to die. How could you set yourself up for death when you had yet so much to accomplish?

“I accept!” Joonhee announced, interrupting your thoughts. “I happily accept, sir.” He saluted dutifully. “Thank you!”

You and Jangmi glanced at each other.

“I’d like some more time to decide,” Jangmi finally said.

You could feel your heart beating in your head. Now all eyes were on you, awaiting your answer, and you hated it. You didn’t owe the army anything, so why was it so damn hard to say no? You could also use Jangmi’s answer to stall for some time, but that would mean they’d hunt you down later to get a definitive response. Should you keep your rejection short and simple? Or did you need to explain yourself to keep them from getting offended? But then again, why would you care that they’ll be offended? They were clearly not-so-great people, disrespecting Instructor Shin in front of her own students! Yes, you should simply reject them. They’re used to curt replies, you assumed, taking orders from right and left, so it couldn’t hurt them if you declined their offer.

With a deep breath, you collected the strength to finally give your response. But it came out as a loud, flat, echoing, “NO.”

The sound of your own voice startled you; it also seemed to startle many others as your classmates stared at you in what you thought looked like disbelief. But it made sense. You usually never spoke so curtly, and you surely never had a reason to raise your voice. You were immediately scrambling to explain yourself. “I-I mean, no thank you… sir. I mean, sirs. I-I would… I would like to focus on my studies.”

“Very well,” the throat-clearing prone soldier said. He didn’t sound disappointed, though he did still look mildly annoyed from the encounter he just had with Instructor Shin. He and the two other soldiers saluted to no one in particular, and they finally exited the classroom. 

When the heavy white doors slammed shut, loud chatter uptook the room. You and Donghoon watched as everyone else began to swarm around Joonhee.

“Why did you accept so quickly?”

“Are you going to drop out of Botswana?”

“Do your parents know?”

“Your parents are going to kill you!”

“Quiet!” Instructor Shin yelled in a voice so loud it echoed in the commodious room. Silence. Everybody scrambled back into their seats. Instructor Shin sighed as she gripped the edges of the marble podium. “I apologize for the distraction and for my harsh behavior. As you may already be aware, things are shifting here at Botswana Agate Academy. The army is looking to expand, and they would like to join hands with Darlae’s brightest. You will learn more about the war once some new courses are approved. I’m afraid it won’t be anything like Darlaean History, for those of you who enjoy that course. Things are changing, indeed…” She sighed again, shaking her head. “But for now, we will continue our lesson, students. And Joonhee? I’d like to see you after class.”

Everyone ooh-ed.

Donghoon rolled his eyes but you frowned. 

“What do you think she held him back for?” you asked Donghoon as the two of you walked out of Instructor Shin’s class.

“Probably to warn him about the army,” Donghoon said, shrugging. “Let him go for all I care. He’ll become General one day.”

“Do you think Jangmi’s going to end up declining the offer?”

“Maybe,” Donghoon said. “I’m not sure. Her parents are scholars like yours, though, so they’ll probably never let her go.” He turned to you with a smile on your face. “But good for you for yelling their rejection to their faces.”

“I didn’t mean to yell!”

“Well, you did, Y/N,” Donghoon laughed. “They’re delusional if they think you’d ever join their stupid little fistfight club.”

“I just think it’s crazy they singled us out,” you said. “It must be some sort of strategy. You know, to make us feel special and accept their offer. They made it sound so grand, too.”

“It’s all bullshit,” Donghoon snorted. “Let’s hope they don’t follow you around, though. I’ve heard they’ve been doing that to a few upperclassmen.”

Donghoon’s hopes, unfortunately, didn’t come true. By the time you were back home from the academy for winter recess, your parents had a stack of letters from the army waiting for you in your bedroom. 

“Honey?” Ma asked, a crease on her forehead. “Have you been getting involved with the army?”

“No,” you said, sighing as you threw the letters in the trash. “I’m just on their radar.”

“Their radar?” Mother said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s that pathetic Head Instructor of yours. Money-hungry pig.”

“Eunbi…” Ma said gently.

“It needs to be said,” Mother replied curtly.

“I’ve just been… Well, I know you haven’t been able to be there for my past Consultings, but I’ve been doing well at the academy,” you said, though admitting it feels a little strange. “I received an invitation to join their rigorous training program for adolescents. But don’t worry!” you quickly added after seeing your parents’ faces. “I declined.”

“They don’t take rejection well, it seems,” Mother snorted. “A couple of soldiers have been showing up at our doorstep and asking for you.”

“They have?” you asked in shock. 

Ma nodded. “But once we move, we should be left alone for a while. ”

“Not unless they’re so desperate they find our new address,” Mother said, shaking her head.

“Move?” you asked, eyes widening. “Why are we moving?”

You’ve lived in this home for as long as you can remember. How could you let go of the cozy living room with its infinite number of reading nooks? The tall windows, the emerald green carpet, and the security of your room—you didn’t want to leave it.

You caught Ma giving Mother a worried look, and Mother cleared her throat. “Well…” She sighed. “Y/N, as divinist scholars, Sura and I make sacrifices to continue our research. You know that, don’t you? Recently… we have realized that our finances have been…” She searched for a word. “Bare.”

“Bare?” you repeated. Are we poor? you wanted to ask. 

Ma answered anyway. “We’re not poor yet, sweetheart. We’re just a little in the rough, that’s all.”

“Sura and I have got it under control,” Mother said. “We’ll sell this home and move into a smaller one.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Ma said with a smile. It looked strained.

Your heart sank.

It was something to worry about. Your parents had been researching their entire lives, but they had never been close to bankruptcy. It dawned on you rather quickly that the only reason they were struggling now was you. You and Botswana Agate Academy. 

“I can drop out,” you offered. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted it. What if your parents agreed? What if they did pull you out of Botswana? The palace-like architecture, the beautiful classrooms, dining hall, dorms… The endless knowledge in the grand libraries… Hell, it was like a second home to you. Your very own fairytale. Donghoon would also be absolutely livid that you were able to leave before him. And what about Instructor Shin? Your unconditional supporter? She would be so disappointed.

“That’s not an option, Y/N,” Mother said, to your surprise. “You will finish your education—whether it’s in divination or not.”

“Yes,” Ma agreed. “We couldn’t ask you to make sacrifices, honey.”

You didn’t argue against that—you didn’t want to.

But it still hurt a few circas later when your parents greeted you at the new doorstep of a significantly smaller home. The roof was battered, the walls a little tattered. There were no more bookshelves, so the books stacked up like pillars supporting the low ceiling. It was a one-room home, with no more reading nooks, no more windows and barely any natural light. The emerald green carpet where you’d taught yourself color-shifting was nowhere to be found—sent off to the 8th city to be sold for extra notes. 

Your parents acted as if nothing had changed, however. And by that, you meant they were still a little distant, their noses buried deep in their books. It was almost as if they didn’t notice the change in the surroundings. But it was evident that they had lost weight. And it was hard to watch them hunch over and squint to read the small text in their manuscripts in the dim windowlessness of your new home.

If you were more adept in alchemy, you would’ve helped them remodel the home, but permanent shifts to larger items were something that even the best alchemists struggled with. It was also around this time when you realized that even after the argument you had with your parents earlier this year, they really, truly loved you. They wouldn’t be starving themselves, living in a small shack with no lights and bedrooms if they didn’t care. It pained you inside to think that you ever doubted them. How could you ever think that Instructor Shin was your only unconditional support when your parents had splurged the entirety of their finances on you? The guilt ate at you alive, and momentarily, your performance in the academy dropped as you processed your revelation. 

“Something is bothering you,” Instructor Shin said, pulling you aside after the Advanced Alchemy lecture. Her face was stoic, yet her tone was gentle. “Are the soldiers harassing you?”

You shook your head. The soldiers have already moved on from you and Jangmi, having found older and more talented students to prey on.

“You haven’t been paying attention,” Instructor Shin said, but it was without disappointment—as if she was merely stating a fact and delicately probing you to answer why.

“I’m sorry, Instructor Shin,” you said, looking at your shoes.

Instructor Shin gave you a look that you could not discern. “Final examinations are approaching,” she said. “Try your best.”

You nodded, though you were unsure how you were going to concentrate on your studies in the lavish libraries of Botswana Agate when you knew your parents were at home skipping meals to fund your schooling. When you made it out of the classroom, the grand doors shutting behind you, Donghoon was immediately by your side. He must’ve been waiting for you.

“What was that about?” he naturally asked. “Did she tell you off because your rank dropped twenty places?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t really a telling off…”

Donghoon raised his eyebrows. “Really? Not even a little scolding?”

“No… She seemed worried.”

“Well, did you give her something to worry about?”

How could Donghoon, the son of the rich Head Instructor of Botswana Agate Academy, understand the financial struggles of a meager divinist scholar family? And besides, if you told him that you were poor, he might try to help, and you would never want to burden him in that manner. 

So you shook your head again, forcing yourself to smile. “I think you’re rubbing off on me, Donghoon.”

He snorted in laughter. “Thanks,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he fully believed your lie. “I’m on a mission to become the worst student ever admitted to this damn academy.”

Then three days later, two weeks before final examinations, Donghoon managed to drop out. 

Well, dropping out wouldn’t be quite the right words; he was expelled. It took Donghoon almost one entire school year to realize his horrible marks weren’t enough of an excuse to convince his father to allow him to quit the academy. So he simply took another route and threatened to obliterate the most important artifact in all of Botswana: past Head Instructor Jeon’s alchemy miracle, the wine glass created from nothing. Donghoon was just seconds away from smashing the glass in front of everyone in the dining hall when his father ran in, completely red and breathless and expelled him on the spot. Donghoon left swiftly, having already packed his bags a week prior. It stung just a little that he didn’t really say goodbye, but maybe that was a good thing. You didn’t think you could’ve handled any more sadness. 

Losing a friend took a toll on you, and that, stacked with worrying about your parents, stressed you so much that you missed an entire week of classes. It was only two days before your first final exam when you realized that moping around pitying yourself was something that the hero of your fairytales would never do. How pathetic! What happened to the girl who wanted to make an impact? The little girl who one day wanted to be a hero? Why was she crying over a friend who was now much happier? Why had she stopped studying when her parents sacrificed so much to put her in this academy? 

You realized then and there that doing your utmost best in Botswana would be one of the biggest ways in which you could repay your parents—at least attempt to, for you could never truly repay what they’ve sacrificed for you. And so, in less than 48 hours, you crammed circa’s worth of information into your brain and practiced your alchemy skills until no end, forgoing sleep to do so. You managed to do decently on your exams, though not as amazing as you would’ve done had you never gone through a slump, but the recovery made you proud of yourself. 

And as if there had been no hiccups at all, life ambled on. 

Your third year at Botswana was much busier than the last two. You were juggling more difficult classes, along with two part-time tutoring jobs and another one as Instructor Shin’s Intro to Alchemy teaching assistant. The pay wasn’t outstanding for any of your odd jobs, but it allowed you to alleviate a bit of the financial burden off of your parents’ shoulders. You still managed to find the time to visit Donghoon occasionally, too. He had set up a nice little tea shop in the 8th city and loved to serve you his newest loose-leaf creations. Sometimes, he’d make his assistant watch over his shop and take you shopping around the 8th city—the two of you had never lost your penchant for clothes since Fashion Studies. You rarely bought anything, though you one day dreamed of owning closets filled with an assortment of fancy gowns and elegant petticoats.

You didn’t quite need to purchase clothes, either. You owned two pairs of the academy’s uniform, which was sufficient enough. And fabric was cheap in the 8th city’s mini-markets, so you purchased those in increments and shifted them into your desired designs. The shifts for larger pieces of clothing were only temporary, considering the expanse of the fabric and the complexity of the design, but after some trial and error (and an embarrassing number of sleepless nights), you were able to permanently shift scarves and gloves for your parents just in time for the winter.

Little by little, your alchemy skills grew. 

Color-shifting and size-shifting were now considered elementary in your more advanced courses, and it was now expected of you to be able to shift the colors and patterns of items permanently. Examinations often tested the longevity of your color-shifts, which was at times nerve-wracking because it took days of waiting to see whether your charms worked the way you intended them to. Size-shifting from small to large items, and vice versa, was still a difficult task, and it was tested less often as even more experienced alchemists struggled with turning a pencil into the size of a bed. And masking was not tested at all, for it was out of the scope of what Botswana Agate could teach its young students. But that never stopped you from attempting to master it; you would inevitably learn it in Aven Quartz, anyway—hopefully, you’d have the finances for it.

So you began small, masking quill pens into tulips, masking goblets into bowls. The masking never quite lasted, but the fact that it worked in the first place was a miracle. You sought extra guidance from Instructor Shin, who was more than delighted to help. And by the middle of your third year, you were comfortably able to mask smaller items for an hour (or two if you were lucky). It wasn’t good enough for you, but it was good enough for your instructors, who informed you of your high rankings time and time again during your Consultings.

What always fueled you to push yourself further was the memory of your mothers when you first visited your new home two years ago. Their thin faces, the cramped single room, the missing furniture, the low ceiling, their backs hunched over, them huddling over dim candlelight to read their books… You were determined to get them out of the situation that you had caused them. It felt like it was your duty—a noble thing to do as their only child. And it would require you to be quite an accomplished individual.

Your alchemy skills weren’t the only thing going through rapid changes in your life. There was also Botswana Agate, though you weren’t too sure if these changes were for the better. Head Instructor Kim approved several new courses, if you could even call them that. No true knowledge was being dispensed in those mandatory classes—only military propaganda. A new academy uniform made its debut as well, looking suspiciously similar to the dark attire of the Darlaean soldier uniform: jet-black with silver and purple stitchings and a belt that cinched in the waist. It became difficult to differentiate between student and soldier, and now everyone looked like soot against the pristine, white walls of Botswana Agate. The changes were only slightly irritating, especially when you happened to run into Joonhee in one of those indistinguishable uniforms and you were unsure whether he dropped out of the rigorous training program for adolescents or if he became one of those annoying soldiers patrolling the halls of the academy.

“Hey! Y/N!” he said, a little too amiably for someone who was never too kind to you before. “Hey!” he said again, jogging over to catch up to you. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You wondered why he was greeting you so warmly. But upon closer look, you realized that he was, indeed, wearing the Darlaean soldier uniform and was probably looking to recruit you for the damn training program once again. You could come up with an excuse and run away or pretend you didn’t even hear him, but that felt a little mean. What if he genuinely wanted to catch up? Maybe he volunteered to be here because he missed Botswana and his friends. But you were never his friend, so why was he seeking you out? Nevertheless, you could never be so rude as to turn a person away.

“Hi, Joonhee!” you said with a smile. Upon closer look, Joonhee seemed a lot older now, although it had only been two years. He was taller, obviously, nearly towering over you in stature, and he had his hair slicked completely back, which accentuated his high cheekbones. He’d lost the chubbiness in his cheeks and had a heavier look in his eyes. But perhaps that was due to the dark circles. You wondered if he spent many sleepless nights in the army. You would imagine so, with all that death and treachery around you, how could you go to bed? “Um, how’s the program going?”

“Really well,” Joonhee answered, shoving his hands in his uniform pockets. “I volunteered to station here for a circa or two just to say hi to everyone before your commencement next year. I’ll be busier then, so might as well visit now. Plus, they don’t let us soldiers in at Aven Quartz just yet.”

“Oh, busier, how?” you asked.

“I did well on my last several showcases,” Joonhee explained. “So they’re going to step up my training. I’ll be fighting in the war by the time I’m 16 or 17.”

“Fighting in the war…” You couldn’t comprehend how casually he said it. In just a few years, Joonhee would be risking his life for Darlae, but you simply couldn’t understand why. He was a perfectly fine student with a bright future in academia ahead of him. Why did he choose to leave? It was a question that you would likely never know the answer to—you simply weren’t close enough to him to ask, and you didn’t see yourself growing closer to him anytime soon.

Joonhee nodded with a solemn look of duty on his face. “Fighting in the war,” he repeated. “Hey, listen. I’ve been trying to find Donghoon around here. You’re still close with him, right?”

Immediately, you tensed up. “Do you… need to tell him something?”

“Yeah. I was going to apologize,” Joonhee said. “I was only 12, and I was a fucking ass to him and a lot of other people. I know better now. Gotta represent my nation and everything.” He said this very proudly, jutting out his chest. 

You’re pleasantly surprised. “Oh, that’s really nice of you, Joonhee. I can relay the message to him since he’s not here anymore. He dropped out. Er, I mean, he was sort of expelled.”

“By his own father?” Joonhee raised his eyebrows.

You nodded. “Yeah, it happened two years ago, a bit after you left, actually. A lot’s changed.”

Joonhee agreed. “A lot has…” There was a bit of an awkward silence before he decided to speak again. “Anyways, are you going to the showcase later this circa? I won’t be one of the judges, but I’ll be somewhere in the audience.”

Was this his smooth way of getting you to think about joining the army?

You shook your head. “They’re not mandatory anymore, and I’ve been busy with classes and my part-time jobs…” It was the truth, although it also sounded a bit like an excuse. But around three circas ago, the showcases were briefly made mandatory, until the fourth years refused to attend classes for two circas. Head Instructor Kim had no choice but to reverse the decision. If he hadn’t, you and the rest of the student body would have been forced to sit through nearly four to six hours of showcasing every circa, which meant watching every single Botswana Agate student put on a display of their skills in front of a row of Darlaean soldier judges, only to be given a numerical score. You would much rather get ahead in your classes or help Instructor Shin grade a few more papers in that time.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Joonhee said. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything. But if you ever have time… You know, just check it out. They’re offering money to high-scorers now.”

“Money?” you asked, though a little too eagerly. Embarrassed, you tried to play off your interest in surprise. “I mean, that’s crazy. I didn’t ever think you guys would offer compensation.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty new,” Joonhee said. “It’s a good amount, too. About 50 jungs.”

Your jaw dropped open. “50 jungs???” That’s enough to fund half a year’s worth of tuition! If you scored well on two showcases, that would mean you would be able to attend your fourth year at Botswana without financial worry. If you scored well on three showcases, you would have a profit! The image of your parents hunched over in their dimly lit home, thin and weary, flashed in your mind. 50 jungs would not be enough to buy a new home, but it would be enough to take care of several hearty meals. Possibly a few bookshelves as well. 

“Yeah,” Joonhee said. “You should think about it. You were always good at alchemy. I bet if you walked in and showed them some of your masking, they’d be sold.”

You weren’t sure how he found out about your masking practices, which meant somehow, the Darlaean soldiers were still watching you, but it didn’t really feel like it mattered in the grand scheme of things. You now had a shot at winning a generous sum of money, which would solve most, if not all of your problems. And besides, your participation in these showcases was not binding whatsoever. You were never going to enlist, no matter how many showcases you happened to attend.

“Thanks,” you told Joonhee. “I’ll… yeah. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

“Tuition at Aven Quartz is more expensive, you know,” Joonhee suddenly said, which made you raise your eyebrows. “And they haven’t allowed showcases there yet; possibly never will. Just something to think about.” Before you could even react to his words, Joonhee saluted you. “I’ll see you around, Y/N. Talk to Donghoon for me, will you?” 

He marched away, leaving you slightly conflicted and confused. Just how much did the Darlaean army know about you? You thought you were off their radar, but it seemed that they were quite well-versed with your financial situation, which was strange because you never told anyone about it—not even Donghoon. You weren’t sure if you could trust them, but money was money and you needed it. Your parents would thank you, right? You were only doing it for them.

With the next showcase almost an entire circa away, you had more than enough time to prepare. And you did so in secret, hoping that none of your friends would find out—in fear that they would get the wrong idea. If the Darlaean soldiers knew you were capable of masking, they would naturally want you to showcase it. So you stayed overnight in the academy’s libraries, reading up on the extensive possibilities of masking, which led you down the rabbit hole of alchemy’s origins. Most of it was a reiteration of what you learned in Darlaean History in your first year, but your research enlightened you with some new information as well. The term alchemy used to refer to the transformation of chosen items into gold, which was the reason Darlae became the prosperous nation it was today. Before the war and the blockade, Darlae’s 2nd city was dedicated entirely to alchemists, and they would spend day and night turning things into gold, which would then be sent off to the 1st city to trade with vendors from other nations. Now, the 1st city was a base site for the army, and the 2nd city was where talented alchemists resided to create nasty charms for the war. As Darlae developed, alchemy became a broader type of magic, which encompassed all things transformation, and the true act of alchemy—turning things into gold—grew obsolete as gold became monetarily useless. But true alchemy was a difficult task regardless, as documented in every book you got your hands on, which made you want to achieve it more than ever.

You practiced relentlessly in the privacy of your dorm. When you weren’t studying or working your part-time jobs, you were exploring the works of true alchemy, which was even harder than you knew it would be. There were many failures, and many points where you wanted to give up and showcase something much simpler. But when you reached those low points, you mentally scolded yourself. How could you be so selfish, thinking about giving up and living in such a lavish dorm with your parents having sold their beds and now sleeping on the hardwood floor? You were doing this for them; you only wanted them to live comfortably, as they had done before your rash decision to attend Botswana Agate Academy to escape them. And perhaps this was the impact you were meant to make in the world—to care for your parents when they forgot to care for themselves.

It sounded rather selfless, yet deep down inside, you wondered if saving your parents from their financial burden would finally get them to look your way. If this showcase was going to be a pivotal moment in your complicated relationship with them, you were certainly not going to dawdle. You were going to perform with no regrets.

And so you did.

After nearly a circa’s worth of sleepless nights, of sacrificing a minor bit of study time to practice your showcase, you gave an unforgettable performance. At least, you assumed it was unforgettable. The theatron went completely silent the moment you turned that metal spoon into a golden one, and not a single person in the audience clapped. You stumbled off the stage, your ears ringing and your legs feeling wobbly. It had all happened much too quickly, the judges announcing your name, the shining lights in your face, perspiration dripping from your brow and making your hands all clammy. It was only after you were halfway down the hall from the theatron’s exit that you heard the roar of applause. 

It made you nearly trip over the air.

You had done it.

After so many failed repetitions, you had managed true alchemy! Your ears were still ringing, and the world felt as if it was spinning. Your accomplishment didn’t feel believable. Even up on that stage, you remembered, though it was hazy, that you would’ve been simply content with turning that silver spoon into bronze and hope those in the audience had bad eyesight. 

You had to tell Instructor Shin! She was always the first person you sought when you reached a new alchemy milestone. But… that didn’t feel too right today. If you told her about your success, she would question why you had been dabbling in true alchemy in the first place (since it was such an obscure practice), and unable to lie, you would tell her you participated in one of the showcases. You could imagine the disappointed look on her face. She would lose her trust in you! Another one of her students lost to the Darlaean army! And oh, if she found out you were convinced to participate because Joonhee recommended it… You might as well never return to your assistant job.

But despite your worries, you still somehow ended up in Instructor Shin’s office, where she offered you a nice glass of iced water mixed with fresh mint leaves. 

“A hot day today, isn’t it?” she said.

She must’ve been referring to your hot and sweaty face.

“Y-Yes,” you agreed, though she didn’t know that you had to imagine you were in a hot, pressurized inferno to transform the metal into gold. That, and the fact that you were nervous to talk to her, in fear that she would find out what you had done.

“I’m glad I ran into you in the hallway, Y/N,” Instructor Shin said, sipping on her own chilled glass of water while sitting at the edge of her marble desk. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. Was she going to ask why she spotted you coming from the direction of the theatron, where the notorious showcases were held? You began to come up with all sorts of excuses in your head, though you knew that your execution would be horrible and you might as well have told the truth from the beginning. But before the worst of your thoughts could consume you, Instructor Shin continued. “I wanted to tell you”—you held your breath—“that I recommend that you apply to Aven Quartz Academy now, one year earlier than normal.” The glass in your hands nearly slipped. “I’ve discussed with your past and current instructors, and we have come to the consensus that Botswana does not have much to offer you anymore, Y/N. I—we— would rather that you move further along in your academic journey than stay here in classes filled with material that is review. I am more than willing to write your recommendation letter.”

Of course you’d love to apply early! That was all you ever wanted—to follow the natural scholar’s pace and study at Aven Quartz. You didn’t need to think much harder. “Oh, thank you!” you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. “Instructor Shin, I—”

Tuition at Aven Quartz is more expensive, you know.

You froze momentarily.

And they haven’t allowed showcases there yet; possibly never will.

Oh no. 

Just something to think about.

Thanks to Joonhee, it was something to think about, indeed.

If you applied to Aven and were possibly accepted, that would mean your parents would have to pay the impossible tuition, more than double what they currently paid for Botswana. Your parents would have to sell the shack and live on the streets of the 11th city, foraging or begging for food! And there were only two more circas left until the end of your third year, which meant that even assuming you excelled in the rest of the showcases, you would still barely be able to afford half a year’s worth of schooling at Aven Quartz. 

If what Joonhee told you was true, and Aven would never have army showcases, you would never be able to help your parents pay for your tuition. Even if you stayed one extra year at Botswana, forgoing Instructor Shin’s offer to apply to Aven early, you still wouldn’t save enough money to comfortably pay for schooling at the sister academy.

“You’re in doubt,” Instructor Shin said, her red lips pressing into a thin line.

You hung your head low. “I… I’m just…” You didn’t know how appropriate it was for you to tell Instructor Shin about your financial situation, especially if she wouldn’t be able to change anything about it.

“Talk to me,” Instructor Shin said. “There must be a reason for your hesitation.”

Of course there was a reason. But you had never been one to divulge others of your private matters. 

“Y/N,” Instructor Shin tried again. “I cannot help if you do not tell me what is wrong.”

She did make a fair point. But how could she possibly help? This was between you and your parents! Yet Instructor Shin had helped you along at the academy for nearly three years now. She was practically your mother in Botswana. And what if she could help? What if you were underestimating what she could do?

“My family…” you began, your voice coming out much smaller than expected. You sipped your water, clearing your throat afterward. “My family is tight with money,” you told Instructor Shin. “My parents have been working hard just to pay my tuition here in Botswana, and I… Even I’ve been trying to work odd jobs to help. Aven Quartz is so much more expensive, and Instructor Shin, I… I don’t know what to do.”

For the second time in nearly three years of knowing Instructor Shin, her stoic barriers melted away, and she looked genuinely sorry. “I understand,” she said sympathetically. “Thank you for sharing, Y/N. Though I believe no amount of words and wisdom could convince Head Instructor Kim to lower the tuition at Botswana, I do believe it is a possibility at Aven Quartz. I am in good relations with the head instructor there, so I may pull some strings.” She paused, seemingly thinking of the right thing to say. “It would certainly be a pity for our nation to lose another talented scholar. I’ll do what I can. Meanwhile…” Instructor Shin trailed off, and you could sense that she was heavily debating on whether to say something. Finally, she sighed, tapping her fingers against her desk in deep thought. “But tell me, what do you want to do with your future, Y/N?”

You momentarily panicked. You hadn’t expected her to ask such a broad question! It felt like some sort of test—as if your answer would dictate how much effort she would put into helping you. But then another, possibly worse thought, occurred to you.

What if she knew? What if she knew that you were coming back from a showcase? What if she thought you were considering the army? Was that why she suddenly asked you to apply early to Aven Quartz? Was that why she was willing to go as far as to contact Aven’s Head Instructor to reduce the cost of your tuition? Was that why she was asking what you would like to do with your future?

When you hesitantly looked up at Instructor Shin, her sharp eyes pierced right into yours, and in them, you saw inexplicable omnipotence—as if somehow, she held all the knowledge in the world. For a second, it almost felt as if she was a divinist. But of course she would find out what you’ve done. Her words rang in your ears: it would certainly be a pity for our nation to lose another talented scholar—and her unspoken words as well—to the Darlaean Army. How could you ever think you could hide it from her?

And your future? Nearly three years ago, hell, even as a young child, you had it all figured out. Just like those protagonists in your novels, you were going to make a change, leave a mark somewhere, anywhere. You were supposed to extinguish the flames once the world was doused in them. Only now, that desire to make a change, that desire to be a hero, has manifested in your desire to change your parents’ living situation. 

“It’s all right if you do not know,” Instructor Shin said in your silence. “Not many of your age are sure of their futures.”

“But I think I do know,” you said, though it came out as more of a whisper. “I want to make a change.” You were painfully aware of how naïve that sounded, but it was the truth. This was what has motivated you for as long as you can remember. 

If Instructor Shin found your future aspiration to be callow, she did not show it. Instead, she nodded. “I will support any direction you decide to take,” she told you. “And I trust that you will make good choices.”

Her words echoed in your head even after you left her office, and they followed you as you slipped under your plush covers in your dorm. 

I trust that you will make good choices.

But what if every choice felt like a bad one?

A single day after your showcase, there was a knock on your dorm door. You weren’t exactly expecting anyone, so it was an interesting surprise to see two students—no, two Darlaean soldiers—standing before you. 

“Hello,” you said, unsure of what to expect.

They saluted in response, which puzzled you even more.

“Kwang Y/N,” the shorter one said while saluting, “you received a near-perfect score at your showcase the other day.” 

Your eyes widened. In your own daze at accomplishing what you believed was nearly impossible, you had completely forgotten to stay to hear your score! Were they angry at you for leaving without dismissal? Did they come to scold you and tell you that your showcase was now invalid? “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” you said, but it came out a little desperate. “I-I was nervous and I—”

“No need to apologize,” the taller soldier said, shaking his head. “We would like to let you know that the judges believed your performance was exceptional. And once again, the Darlaean Army would like to extend you an invitation to join our rigorous training program for adolescents.”

Oh.

They weren’t angry at all. 

They only wanted to recruit you… Again.

Your mind began drowning in your options.

Either choice felt like a bad one: applying early to Aven Quartz and putting your parents in deeper debt (despite a reduced tuition) versus staying in Botswana to make more profit from the showcases and still putting your parents in debt. Yet, joining the training program was possibly the worst choice out of them all. How could you make the change you wanted to make when you were dead? What could you possibly get—what would anyone possibly get—out of you being in the army? Nobody in your life—except perhaps Joonhee—would approve. The idea itself was so preposterous that you couldn’t even consider it an option!

You’ve rejected the offer before. You could surely do it again, and this time, it would be easier as there would be no crowd of curious peers staring at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said with a shake of your head. It felt good to stand your ground. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested.”

“But—” the taller soldier began, yet he stopped himself. “Very well, then,” he said with a sigh. You were partly surprised at how easily he relented. “But our army has never seen a showcase like yours before. Just wanted to let you know.”

The two soldiers left you in peace, which was what you wanted since you opened your door and saw them. You thought that was a done deal, and you could go on your merry way to figuring out what the hell you were going to do with the two options you had left. But it turned out that you weren’t completely off the Darlaean Army’s radar. Exactly 24 hours after your encounter with the soldiers, there was that same knock on your door. 

Were they back to convince you to join? Were they going to threaten to not give you the money from your showcase? 

You were slightly nervous but a little irritated too. Why couldn’t they respect your decision? It wasn’t like you—a single 14-year-old—could really make a difference in the entire Darlaean army, so why were they being so persistent? Was it due to ego? Did they believe that no one could possibly resist an invitation to fight for Darlae? 

The thought increased your irritation, and you swung your door wide open, ready to somewhat politely give these damn soldiers a piece of your mind. But your plans dissipated when you made eye contact with a serious-looking man outside your door. He was older than any soldier you’ve seen so far and was tall and slender, with a high nose, downturned lips and glinting eyes that seemed to stare into your soul. His army uniform was uniquely adorned with silver shoulder epaulets, and a beautiful round opal decorated his belt buckle. The man exuded a quiet confidence, and that, coupled with the fact that his uniform looked high-ranking, suddenly made your brain turn to mush.

“Hello,” he said, his voice much deeper than what you expected. 

You stared.

Then, realizing you were being rude, you squeaked a delayed, “H-Hello.”

“I am Lieutenant General Son,” the man introduced himself. “Pleased to meet you, Y/N.”

You weren’t very familiar with army rankings, but his title contained the word General, which was enough to make you realize you were face-to-face with a very powerful individual. Your palms began to accumulate sweat, and you nervously fiddled with your trinket behind your ear. “N-Nice to meet you too. Sir,” you added in haste. Your eyes glanced behind the man and to the hallway, hoping that none of your peers happened to walk past in fear of rumors spreading that you were beginning to consider joining the Darlaean Army. You weren’t sure if you should invite the man into your dorm; that felt a little strange, for he was a complete stranger. It was also exceedingly peculiar that the Lieutenant General of the Darlaean Army personally sought you out. You decided to keep the conversation where it started, the door frame creating a border between you and the army official.

“I was told you have now twice refused to be a part of our training program for adolescents,” the Lieutenant General said. “Why is that?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I-I… Sir, I…” How could you respectfully tell him that you want nothing to do with the army?

“Your parents are divinist scholars as I understand,” the Lieutenant General continued, saving you from responding to his own question. “I suspect you’ve been conditioned to think quite poorly of the army.”

You stuttered, unsure whether to accept or deny his statement.

“And that is fine,” the Lieutenant General said. “I do not care what the scholars think of us. A nation cannot develop properly amidst a war. I’m sure you already know. Darlae may be rich in resources, but our scholars’ research will never see the light of day until the blockade is over and our 1st city is restored.” His eyes pierced into yours. “If you choose the army, Darlae will thrive from your contributions and your accomplishments will be tangible.”

Of course he came here to sell the army to you. That much was expected. What was unexpected, however, was the fact that he brought up quite a good point. It was true that scholars’ research was not the nation’s priority. Your work—if you did become an alchemist scholar—would be buried amongst the hundreds of other research manuscripts until the war was over. But then again, there also wasn’t much longevity in becoming a soldier, and you wanted accomplishments that would last. If you died on the battlefield, the only contribution you’d make would be becoming fertilizer for the soil. It was an overwhelmingly dark thought—that Donghoon would often joke about—but there was truth in it. You’d rather die knowing your work could be uncovered someday, instead of being a casualty count in a textbook decades later.

The Lieutenant General nodded in your silence. “I will save my compliments and further persuasion. I’m sure you’ve heard enough. Allow yourself time to ponder. I want an answer in three days.”

With that, he handed you a crisp envelope from inside his uniform jacket, and before you could ask what it was, he turned and walked away. You stared at the back of his head, processing the encounter in your mind. It didn’t seem like he was trying too hard to convince you to join the army—if that was his plan. He had left relatively quickly too. But perhaps he was busy. If he had given you the opportunity, you would’ve refused him on the spot. Now you had three days to come up with a kind way to reject the offer.

Sighing, you closed the door, sliding up against it and staring at the thin envelope in your hands. It was shut with a dark violet wax seal with the royal emblem stamped on it. It was no secret that the army was heavily funded by the royal family, but you never thought they’d make it so obvious. Carefully, you tore the seal open, half-expecting to see the money you won from the showcase. But instead, you found a single sheet of creamy paper and on it were a few words handwritten in black ink. You frowned. What had to be written that could not be said out loud?

Y/N,

A payment of five thousand jungs and ownership of a new home in the 12th city will be contingent upon your agreement to continue with the program. Consider it wisely.

Lieutenant General.

Your jaw dropped open. 

Five thousand jungs was more than enough to buy a new home from your parents. But they were offering a new home for you regardless! And in the 12th city! This was everything your parents had ever wanted. One could only be invited to live in the 12th city, and this was the invitation! Your parents could officially become royal divinists. Their lifelong dream would come true!

But… at what expense? This was obviously a bribe, which you were unaware that the Darlaean Army was capable of doing, for you’ve never heard of a story like this. Perhaps they were better at hiding things than you thought. Still, you didn’t understand. You’ve rejected them twice before. Why would they come back to you a third time? Was your showcase truly that remarkable? You would be but one single soldier! They probably sacrificed hundreds of soldiers per week, so why did it matter that you joined their training program? Wouldn’t you simply be a casualty to them sooner or later? A number reported to the higher-ups? 

Accepting the offer would mean doing away with all of your parents’ problems. It would also mean creating new problems for yourself. You would have to give up becoming an alchemist scholar. You’d have to give up Aven Quartz. Hell, you could kiss your friends goodbye; no sane Botswana student would accept the fact that you’d seriously consider joining the army. And though Instructor Shin told you that she would trust any decision you were to make, she would still be disappointed. 

You were in desperate need of brutal wisdom, to help you snap out of delusion—if you were in it—and there was only one person who you knew you could count on.

“Y/N!” Donghoon greeted you as soon as you stepped into his tea shop. He rolled down his sleeves and jogged toward you with a grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here! It’s been an entire circa!”

He was right. The last time you saw Donghoon, it had been to tell him Joonhee’s message, and he had simply shrugged it off, saying he never cared too much about Joonhee anyway. 

“Hey!” you smiled, though it was a little hard to with so much on your mind. “Is this a good time?”

“Did something happen?” Donghoon asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew you too well.

“Um… kind of,” you replied.

“Let’s hear it, then,” Donghoon said. He pulled up an extra wooden stool to the coffee table and sat down, gesturing you to do the same across from him. So you did, unsure of how you should start your story at all. “Whatever it is, it’s giving you frown lines,” Donghoon snorted. “Spit it out. You know I won’t judge.”

Somehow, you felt like he would. 

“It’s about the army,” you said.

Donghoon sighed. “Those bastards are still harassing you? Here, I’ll help you come up with effective ways to make them regret ever messing with y—”

“N-No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s… Well, you know about the training program, right? The one they wanted me to join back since you were still in school.”

“Yeah…” Donghoon said, cocking his head. You could tell he was unsure where you were going with this. It made you want to tread lighter than before.

“Um… I…”

“You’re not actually thinking of doing it, are you?” Donghoon accused. His tone was sharp, and you were immediately struggling to defend yourself.

“N-No! I’m… But I’m just… I don’t know, I feel like I should consider the option at least.”

“Why?!”

You struggled to remain calm. “They’re offering me a lot of money. And a home in the 12th city.”

“All for you?” Donghoon frowned. “They told you that they’ll give you all that if you join?”

You nodded, pulling out the letter for proof.

Donghoon glanced at the words on the cream paper and shook his head. “You can’t do it, Y/N. You can’t become one of those bastards. Your life will be filled with blood and gore and death! Do you really want someone else’s guts on your hands?”

Even the thought made you want to hurl. “Of course I don’t! But…”

“This can’t possibly be about your parents, Y/N. They’re shit people!”

“They’re not!” You didn’t mean to yell, but it hurt to think that someone who had such a horrible father still believed your parents were just as bad. “They’re just busy!”

“That excuse works from time to time. Not every year since you were born!” Donghoon exclaimed. “They’re trying to bribe you, Y/N. Don’t you get it? You’re probably the most talented scholar they’ve ever seen. Why else would the fucking Lieutenant General come to see you himself? But you can’t bargain with your own life to make your parents happy! Let’s face it, Y/N, what have they done to deserve it?”

Anger flashed through you. “They’ve been living in a shack for two years to pay for my tuition!” You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “I’m sorry for yelling, but they care more than they let on, Donghoon.”

“So you’re just going to waste your talents in the army so you can repay your parents?”

“I’ll never be able to repay them. I was off frolicking in the fancy halls of Botswana while they were starving and sleeping on hardwood floors, Donghoon.”

“I don’t get it.” He shook his head. “You could’ve asked me for help. I can still give you the money you need.”

“You know I hate being a burden.”

He sighed. “I know… But don’t do it. You’ll figure out a way. Do you want to work part-time at my tea shop? The pay’ll be amazing.”

“Donghoon, I just need advice. Is it really such a bad idea? Maybe… I don’t know, maybe I’ll be able to make an actual change if I’m in the army. Even if I did become an alchemist scholar one day, my work would probably be buried because of the war.” You didn’t know why you were starting to defend the idea of joining the army. It felt wrong, especially to do in front of Donghoon.

“Of course it’s a bad idea,” he said as expected. “It’s a fucking horrible idea, that’s what it is. They’re going to turn you into a killing machine. They’re going to make sure violence is ingrained in your body. You won’t ever be the same again. They’ll have you become their puppet! You’ll fall for their propaganda! They’ll have you thinking that the Solarians are the scum of the earth!”

“But is that true?” you asked.

“Why the hell are you asking if it’s true, Y/N?” Donghoon said, exasperated. “How can you question common sense? Have you actually fallen for their propaganda already? How long have you been considering joining their training program?”

It hurt that he was accusing you of these things, and the pain caused you to react before you could think. “You don’t understand how it feels to not have money! You don’t understand how humiliating it is to even think about asking others for help. You don’t even understand the stress I’ve gone through just to keep myself in school. You wouldn’t get it at all because you’re fucking rich and you dropped out!” As soon as those words left your mouth, you regretted it. “Donghoon, wait. I didn’t mean—”

“Go fucking join the army, then.”

“W-What?”

“If money is more important to you, then go throw away your dignity. I don’t care. Go be like Joonhee and waste your talent.”

“Donghoon…”

“Maybe you’ll become the General of the fucking Army one day.”

“It’s not money that’s more important… This is about my parents.”

“You don’t owe them anything.”

“How can I not owe them anything?” you said. “Look, Donghoon, I’m not saying I’m going to join the army. I just… It’s a lot of money. That plus the new home in the 12th city… And I’ll be learning alchemy during that training program, but I’m being paid to do it! You have to understand that logically, all signs point to me at least contemplating the offer.”

Donghoon shook his head. “It already sounds like you know what you want to decide.”

“No, I—”

He abruptly stood up, cutting you off. “I would never even consider accepting an offer like this. But maybe it’s meant to be. You’ve always liked carrying your trinket around.” He glanced at the baby blue feather pinned to your hair. “If you’re going to be directly involved in the perpetual circle of violence between the two nations, then we should go our separate ways.”

Your heart sank. “Donghoon…”

“I don’t serve soldiers in my tea shop,” he said. “You can leave.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes. “I never said I was going to do it…”

He gave you a look that questioned your words.

You shakily stood up, lingering at the coffee table, unsure if you should really leave. If you went now, you would most likely never come back again. Donghoon has never tolerated anything involving the war; as soon as you even so much considered the idea, he’d already pulled away. But Donghoon seemed content with breaking up your friendship as he had already rolled up his sleeves and had begun working behind the counter again. It was as if the two of you hadn’t had a conversation at all.

Confused and hurt, you slowly stepped out of the tea shop, vision a little blurry from your tears. The more you thought about your lost relationship with Donghoon, the faster you began to walk, hoping to leave the sadness behind you. Before you knew it, you were running, though you could barely see ahead of you. Your quill trinket threatened to fall out of your hair, so you ripped it out and held it in your hands, not caring in the slightest that you were wrinkling the feather.

A sob left your mouth as you sprinted across Botswana’s empty corridors. Maybe you shouldn’t have yelled at him. Maybe you should’ve thought before reacting. Maybe you should go back and apologize. But your legs refused to stop, and you continued to run—though you didn’t know where—until you ran into somebody, nearly losing your grip on your trinket. If they hadn’t grabbed your arm with impressive reflexes, you would’ve tumbled back. When you looked up, hastily wiping your tears away with your uniform sleeve, you saw Joonhee. 

He frowned, letting your arm go once you regained your balance. You were too out of breath to apologize. “Are you okay?” he asked.

All you could do was shake your head.

He didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he offered you some water and a handkerchief, which you gladly accepted. By the time you finally calmed down, you and he were sitting at the edge of Botswana Agate’s marble fountain—the same one that was trashed in protest when Head Instructor Kim announced the curriculum changes (that were really just army propaganda). Your trinket, though a little wrinkled and now its original shade of ugly gray, was safely pinned back behind your ear again. Joonhee sat silently, waiting for you to speak, though he most likely had hundreds of other tasks to attend to. Starting to feel a little guilty that he was wasting his time in silence with you, you blurted out a question that happened to cross your mind at the moment.

“Why do you want to fight in the war?” 

Joonhee turned to you, eyebrows raised. “That’s a loaded question. Have you got the time?”

You nodded. “Three days, in fact.”

He looked confused, but he didn’t question it. “I mean, I hate the Solarians, so naturally, I’d want to… you know, do away with them, I guess. But it’s a lot more than that, too. As a soldier-in-training, I get to represent Darlae. I get to fight for our beliefs and our pride, and I would die trying. You know, besides the 10th and 11th cities, people are actually proud to be Darlaeans. I think it’s because they don’t have their damn noses stuck in books all the time. They live in reality. They right the wrongs and take action when needed. That’s how I see it. I’d rather be out there fighting for my nation than fester in research that’ll be forgotten about when I’m dead.”

Death… You felt too young to be contemplating it. Sometimes it didn’t even feel real that you could simply cease to exist. The thought was terrifying, and you didn’t know how Joonhee was so content with it.

“But won’t you be forgotten about if you die on the battlefield?”

Joonhee thought for a moment. “Have you ever read The Wisdom Tree?”

Though you were confused why he offered such a topic change, you nodded. “I think I read it once when I was young, but it was a little too dark for me.” 

“Well, I grew up with that story,” Joonhee explained. “The main character sacrifices his life for someone he loves, yet he is never forgotten. His lover makes sure his name is never lost in history. Plants a sentient tree in his honor, and the townspeople forever seek advice from that tree when faced with difficult decisions. Hence, the title. But yeah. I trust my comrades to carry on my legacy if I die, and they trust me to do the same. You can die and still be a hero,” he said. “I’m willing to put my life on the line for a chance at a warless Darlae. Shouldn’t that be our priority? Ending the war? 

“You know, when the blockade’s over, I want to explore the world. See what else is out there. Think of all of the books of different cultures and languages that I would find. I could go back to learning. Real learning. Not being cooped up and being fed outdated information because the nation doesn’t have enough funding for the academies. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll even publish a book of my own.” He turned to you, an amused look on his face. “Shocked?”

Of course you were shocked. You always assumed he volunteered for the sake of fighting, though you realized now it had been a horrible misconception. It was hard to believe that Joonhee’s the same age as you (a few circas older, though) when in fact he was starting to sound like the damn Wisdom Tree himself. You wondered if he gained this wisdom in the army. 

You can die and still be a hero.

Why did you never consider this? What was this odd comfort that washed over you?

Has the scholar community been wrong all along? Maybe soldiers didn’t crave violence. Maybe they craved to be heroes. And what was so wrong with that? Wasn’t that who you wanted to be?

“People die out there,” Joonhee said. “We all know that. But it’s never a waste. No one dies without purpose. Every soldier who falls on the battlefield brings us one step closer to winning the war.”

“You’re not afraid?” you asked.

“Afraid of dying?” Joonhee shrugged. “Not really. But maybe my sentiments will change when I go to battle in a few years. I’m pretty stubborn, though. I think I’ll survive.” He turned to you with no particular expression on his face. “You’ve got three days, huh?” he said. “I’d say let everything sink in. You’re smart. You’ll make the right decision in the end.”

What do you want to do with your future?

Come to think of it, you’ve never really had a clear dream. It was always about being a good person—someone undeniably altruistic and kind, who helped anyone in need, like the heroes you grew up with. For years you believed that to be a hero, you were required to be present for whatever big change you ignited. To be a hero, you believed that you were guaranteed to survive. 

But that didn’t have to be the case. 

You can die and still be a hero.

Of course death was still an opaque subject, but this realization gave you another option. If you were really going to make a difference in the world, if you were really to become some sort of hero, you were going to have to make sacrifices: first for your parents, then for the future people of Darlae—for the scholars who dreamed of a real education, for those who wanted to explore the world, for those who wanted a peaceful kingdom. If those sacrifices led to your demise… Well, it didn’t seem like the end of the world anymore. I’m willing to put my life on the line for a chance at a warless Darlae.

What brave words. You wished you could say the same thing with even half of Joonhee’s confidence. The truth was, you were still terrified. The war always felt like it was an untouchable force, something that no matter what you did, would never go away. But things were different now. You could make a difference. Every soldier who falls on the battlefield brings us one step closer to winning the war. Those words stirred something inside of you. 

Perhaps it was a sense of responsibility, a sense of duty. A real hero would die trying to fight for what would help their loved ones. A real hero wouldn’t care if their fight ended in death, as long as something was changed. A real hero would be selfless and brave and kind.

Gone was your prejudice against those who volunteered for the army. They were human too, not just violent people who joined for a taste of blood. They were aspiring heroes. Just like you. They wanted to right the wrongs, even if they ended up dead because they trusted their comrades to carry on their lives. It was so valiant, such a grand gesture that it made your heart beat faster thinking about it.

And the more you thought, the clearer your future became.

It was obvious the choice you had to make.

So when the Lieutenant General came knocking on your door three days later, you were prepared. There was not a waver in your voice, not a single doubt when you uttered the words:

“Yes, sir. I accept.”

You didn’t know what to expect as a reaction, but you should’ve known it wouldn’t be very reactive. The Lieutenant General only nodded, his expression unreadable. “Welcome to the Darlaean Army, cadet.” His dark eyes glinted. “You will begin in one week.”

In a singular week?

That didn’t leave much time.

You only hoped your parents wouldn’t be too angry.

“I believe we’ll be reacquainted on the training grounds,” the Lieutenant General said. “When that time comes, cadet, I expect you to salute when you see me.”

You nodded, standing up straight and half-ready to salute him now. “Yes, sir!”

You nervously entered your single-room home in the 11th city. Your parents were sitting in the dark, hunched over their books again, right where you had left them circas ago. You felt a little sick. If they reacted the way Donghoon did, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Mother? Ma?”

Your parents turned around, their hollow faces half-obscured by the darkness of the room. Ma was the first to speak. “Welcome back, sweetheart!”

“Did we miss the end of the school year?” Mother asked, setting down her book and blinking heavily as if the light that streamed in when you opened the door blinded her. 

“No, I came back on my own accord,” you said. “Actually, I, um…” Already, things weren’t going the way you imagined. You struggled to find the right words. “There was a showcase at Botswana several days ago,” you began carefully.

“Showcases are military propaganda, Y/N,” Mother said, standing up with wobbly legs. Her back never stood straight and she stared at you behind full eyes. “I hope you didn’t participate.”

You gulped. “T-They were offering 50 jungs for the best performance.”

That seemed to put Ma out of her weary trance. “They were? Oh, honey, did you do it?” There was a hopeful lilt to her voice, and you hung onto it, in hopes that they would forgive you for making a choice without their input.

“Of course, Ma. I, well, they liked my performance so much that they um, once again offered me a spot in their training program for adolescents.” The information spills out of you quickly, before your parents can even react: “They’ll be paying us five thousand jungs and have already invited us to live in the 12th city.”

“Five thousand?!—”

“Live in the 12th city?!”

Mother shakes her head. “Y/N, why would they offer you so much?”

Even you were unsure of the exact reason. 

There was a bit of silence. It seemed like neither of your parents knew what to say.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, Mother spoke. “Is this… Is this what you want, Y/N?”

“Yes, honey, do you really want to become a soldier one day?” Ma chimed in.

They didn’t seem angry or upset, just puzzled. 

“I do,” you said. “I really do.”

“Well…?” Ma looked over at Mother, who had harsh frown lines all over her forehead. 

“You’ve already accepted, haven’t you?” Mother asked.

You began to play with your trinket in your hair. “I-I did… Are you mad?”

“No,” Mother said. “Only surprised.”

“You’d finally be appointed as royal divinists,” you told your parents, worried that they were still wary of your decision. “And we’d get to move out of this home and into a much nicer one in the 12th!”

“Yes…” Ma said. 

Your parents looked at each other, and maybe it was because you weren’t very close to them, but you couldn’t discern what they were wordlessly saying. You weren’t a divinist, after all.

If they suspected that you only accepted the offer for their sake, they didn’t make it obvious. They never even asked what you performed for your showcase. Didn’t even ask why you had such a sudden change of heart. Instead, they rather quickly packed up the little belongings that they had and moved one city over to the castle grounds—as if they couldn’t wait to get out of the 11th city. Soon after, your parents became appointed as royal divinists, their lifelong dream coming true, and you became a young soldier-in-training, your dream of attending Aven Quartz long forgotten.

Everybody at Botswana was surprised when you left. Some even questioned the sanity of your parents, for what kind of scholars would selfishly allow their only child to die in the war so that they could work for the royal family? What kind of pathetic parents would use their children to achieve their dreams? 

But your parents never had to hear these talks, and neither did you after a while. Soon, you and your parents settled into your new, magnificent home in the 12th city. The ceiling was unreachable, mahogany bookshelves towering over the other delicately-crafted furniture. Even the emerald green carpet was back, though it wasn’t the same one you grew up with. But the countless windows, reading nooks and candles brought you nostalgia, and you cherished the homely feeling along with your parents, who gained back the weight that they lost and looked much happier than before.

By the time you left for the castle grounds, it felt as if you’d lived in the 12th city all of your life—as if you left behind all of the bitter feelings towards the army in the 11th, where the scholars sat, forever reading their books and doing nothing about anything. 

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: behold the LONGEST lod chapter yet!! it took me over three months to write and edit :') hopefully you enjoyed this quick look at her early life! don't worry, jungkook will show up soon

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

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[def-initely-soul]

Burn The Witch {4}

a/n: hello everyone it's been a while. I have no idea if anyone is still around or still interested in this, but here's the fourth part! don't know when i'll update again, figured i should upload this chapter since its been in my drafts for a while

pairing:  yoongi x reader (f.)

genre: supernatural; angst; mystery; magical society AU; magicals!AU

rating: PG-15

warnings: violence; emotional abuse; blood; bullying; mentions of murder; mature language; panic attack

words: 5.6k

summary:

↠ {a boy who keeps running away, a girl who can’t seem to no matter how much she tries and a series of murders caught all in between of the cracks spread through what appears as a quiet little town…} ↞

or alternatively, not everything is always what it seems

previous part: {3}

.

.

It’s a slow day at “Selkie’s Place” when Yoongi pays you a visit, two days after the second murders. 

Trusting him still feels naïve but you can’t help but do it, and it scares you. You’re putting so much faith in him. Too much faith. Blindly trusting someone like this can only lead to disappointment, you know this well enough. But it’s hard not to trust him. And you’re terrified. 

When he steps into the pub it takes a whole lot of effort to get Mona to stop pestering him and move along to her other duties. Of course, you didn’t tell her the truth about your sudden partnership, instead opting for an inconspicuous story of making a new friend during interspecies studies. But, of course, she had to see for herself. Resulting in an almost interrogation of Yoongi about how the two of you met. 

“She seems nice...” he comments afterwards. He waves at Mona from the couch he’s sitting on, who waves back at him from behind the bar. 

You rest your hand at the back of the couch, watching the whole interaction with a careful smile. “She usually is. Today was a surprise for both of us...” you shrug before turning your attention back at him. Wondering what made him choose “Selkie’s Place” of all places for your conversation. 

“You know this meeting could’ve happened at uni, right? No need for you to come here...” you raise an eyebrow and now it’s his turn to shrug. 

“Better this way. Less eyes watching. After all, the person incriminating you could be someone from campus,” he takes a tentative sip of his beer. Your suspicion grows. 

Maybe he’s not just thinking of being under the radar. Maybe he’s not completely unaffected from everyone else’s opinion and he’s afraid to be seen with you. Could that really be the case? 

No. You wouldn’t peg Yoongi as someone who cares about other people’s opinions. He does what he wants and that’s the end of it. 

But what if this town managed to get him? What if by living in such a remote place, the people’s beliefs became his own? What if he’s rethinking the whole thing? 

You try to shake off the doubts creeping in your mind. They won’t do you any good for now. 

“So, you think someone is incriminating me then,” you ponder instead. 

Yoongi looks at you unimpressed. “Given the circumstances of those murders, I’d say it’d be too much of a coincidence. Someone is definitely trying to put the blame on you,” he replies sternly, confident in his logic. You find it hard to argue. 

At least someone else believes you. 

“So, what do you suggest we do?” you ask while taking a careful look around the pub. Just because you’re meeting here instead of campus, doesn’t mean you’re completely safe. 

“Me?” he raises an eyebrow as he crosses his arms. 

You shrug. “You’re the Sherlock here, Sherlock.” The reply has a smile growing on Yoongi and he leans towards you. 

“And I suppose you’re my Watson then?” 

At that you can’t help but scoff. Nevertheless, a grin is threatening to spill on your lips. “No, that would make me the unwilling victim that paid too much at your agency.” 

Yoongi’s smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not paying me though.” 

“Is store-credit okay?” 

He shakes his head with a chuckle before leaning against his seat. “I was thinking of taking a look,” is his cryptic answer, eyes following the costumers around the pub. 

This doesn’t satisfy your curiosity though. “Taking a look where?” 

Yoongi is still nonchalantly people-watching when he replies. “The Kim’s estate.” 

Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. 

“Where?! Are you mad?! The place will be flooding with Magaux!” you respond incredulously. You’re not willing to take a step into this place, it will be filled with your worlds equivalent for the police! If someone were to catch you there, no evidence would be needed for your arrest. 

“This might be our only chance...” Yoongi continues calmly, ignoring your sudden outburst. 

“To get arrested?” you level with him but he rolls his eyes, not at all worried about his idea. 

You can’t believe you’re hearing this! He can’t be serious. 

“To find out anything concerning the identity of the perpetrator! Or would you rather just to sit by idly as everyone else pins this too on you?” it’s his turn to look at you with irritation in his eyes. Your mouth runs dry from words to say. You hadn’t thought of it that way. You should have. 

“I...” you mumble taken aback, before you turn your eyes away. “I didn’t mean it like that...” you mutter in response. Yoongi exhales tiredly. 

“Look, I know you don’t feel comfortable with this, but it’s our best shot at finding out anything. As for the magaux they cleared the scene not long before the second murders happened. The Kim estate will be empty by now,” his voice is soft, almost comforting and you turn to face him again. The determination and hope in his eyes strangely calm you down. 

“How are we going to get in?” you make your decision and Yoongi smiles. 

“Can you teleport?” 

You nod. 

“There’s how,” he announces entirely too pleased with himself, and you roll your eyes as you fight the urge to smile. 

“I say we meet and teleport straight into the house, not to raise any alarms, hm?” he takes another sip of his beer, and you nod again. 

That’s when you see it. 

Yoongi goes on about the details of your plan, but your eyes are trained at the glass window behind him. Did you just see something move? 

There’s just darkness outside. Just a heavy, unending black. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. 

But then you see it again. And this time it’s clearer.  

What you thought was only black, quickly proves to be a shadow. A shapeless figure, much like the one you saw at that empty classroom. Unnerving, ever-present. 

Your breath hitches. Yoongi’s voice becomes a faint buzz as your heartbeat rises when the figure suddenly appears closer to the window. 

But the figure is almost the same colour as the night. You’re not sure what you’re seeing is real.  

It seems as if you’re staring at nothing. 

But “nothing” stares back. 

And blinks. 

“Y/N!” 

You jump in your spot, tension suddenly dissipating. You glance at Yoongi disoriented, who looks at you with a wary expression. Then you take a look at the window again. But there’s nothing there. 

“You okay?” Yoongi’s voice sounds as if you’re underwater. It gradually grows stronger, pulling you back to reality with it. You shake your head. It was nothing, you saw nothing. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine...” you clear your throat, unable to meet his eyes. You’re afraid he’ll see right through you. “I just got distracted, sorry. What were you saying?” 

Yoongi’s gaze is suspicious, but he decides to say nothing. “That we should meet at my house to discuss somethings beforehand. Just to be careful about this. Wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?” he explains with an easy smile. And while you agree with the general idea, you have one small objection. 

“Okay, but it’d be better if it was at my house instead. I still can’t quite get the hang of teleporting from anywhere outside my house,” you reply, and Yoongi looks worried at that. 

“Then will you be able to teleport us to your house afterwards?” he asks with concern, and you nod. 

“It just takes a bit more energy. Figured I’d keep whatever energy I can for leaving,” you shrug. Only now you realise that means Yoongi will have to actually come to your house. 

It’s been so long since anyone stepped foot in your home, besides you and Mona. You’ll need to do some cleaning beforehand, just in case. 

Yoongi nods as he thinks it over, tapping his finger on his chin before he shrugs. “Okay, if you’re sure you can do it...” he comments. Although his tone shifts something in you. As if your pride got wounded.  

Sure, you’re used to that. It seems to be everyone’s personal chore in this hellhole of a town, but coming from Yoongi, makes you want to prove him wrong. To prove you’re not just some helpless victim, to prove you’re someone capable. Someone strong. 

You can do it. You know you can. 

And him doubting you makes you angry. 

“I’m sure,” you say, and your tone raises no questions. No room for doubt fits in your words and your hair curl at the ends with magic as it seeps out of you with every burst of feeling. You’re not weak. That’s the only thing you’ve never been. 

Yoongi’s stare is indecipherable as thunder roars outside. Your chest rises quickly with every worked-up breath. 

But then he smiles. “That’s more like it.” 

. 

. 

You watch anxiously as Yoongi steps inside your home, two days later. It’s the only day you’re free from work, so the only day you’d be able to do this. You wanted the whole day off to prepare for what you’re about to do. 

You mainly slept and ate, to replenish your energy and be ready for later. And also downed more than three cups of coffee. Although that could maybe turn out to be a bad idea. You’re not sure yet. 

You're curious to see how Yoongi will take in your home but nothing really reveals much about his thoughts. Not when he stares up at the massive wooden staircase with Alistair curled around the banister, or when his eyes meet the stone walls covered with paintings of your relatives. 

Your familiar stares at the man in the middle of your lobby, thoughtfully take in your home and strangely he has nothing to say. The fox only stares at the vampire man with a mild curiosity and a slight apathy. Yoongi, to his credit, acknowledges the fox with a small tip of his head forward but then he keeps on looking around. 

Alistair’s familiar voice appears in your head.  

Do we trust him? 

You give him what you hope is a warning glare. 

Be nice Ali. 

You swear you see him almost roll his eyes. 

I’m always nice. 

A snort breaks free from your lips that has Yoongi look at you with a questioning gaze. 

You wave him off with your hand. “It’s nothing...” you reply when you decide to tease your familiar. “Ali seems to like you.” 

The question doesn’t leave Yoongi’s eyes. “Ali?” 

“My familiar...” you move closer to point at Alistair at the top of the stairs who stares at you with a nearly murderous gaze. “His real name is Alistair, but he doesn’t like being called Ali in front of strangers...” you chuckle with Yoongi’s eyes on you. Alistair gets up from his position and stretches before sitting on his back legs on a graceful but indignant pose. 

Your smile grows. 

Yoongi turns to your familiar and nods his head again. “I’m Yoongi. Nice to meet you Alistair.” 

Ali looks at him carefully before his voice reappears. 

He’s okay... for now. 

Then he tips his head towards Yoongi and turns around to hide in your room. 

You chuckle once more at the quizzical look on Yoongi’s face. “Okay, now he really seems to like you.” 

Yoongi sighs in relief. “I’m glad. Wouldn’t want to get on your familiar’s bad side...” he replies while turning his eyes upwards to your high ceiling. His gaze turns awed when he sees the ancient magic decorating the glass ceiling and how the endless night outside meets the floating lights underneath your roof. 

“What is this...?” he asks in wonder, mouth falling open at the sight above him. 

Another smile takes over your lips. “My father did it. When I was young, I used to say how much I loved the floating lights in the sky. I would sit awake for hours trying to come up with spells to bring them closer to me. I thought if I tried hard enough, I could bring them in my room and have them on my ceiling and then I could say “I have the floating lights in my room!”. So, one day my dad brought home some small crystal balls, filled them with starlight and enchanted them to float forever beneath our glass ceiling. To accompany the real floating lights in the night sky,” you reminisce as one of the floating lights slowly descends to meet your open hand.  

It’s warmth travels through your skin, reminding you of that time you tried to catch them with a floating spell of your own. Back then, you didn’t know you weren’t supposed to chase them. The starlight would come to you instead. 

“And to make sure I didn’t accidently cause earth’s collision with a star,” you add on with a chuckle. 

“Your dad could catch starlight?” Yoongi asks still in awe, but his eyes are on you now. 

“It was his individual power.” 

“And what is yours?” he asks curiously. 

At that your smile drops. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.” 

Both of you remain silent. Yoongi’s gaze doesn’t leave you but where you thought you’d see pity you see nothing but understanding. He doesn’t say anything along the lines of “I’m sorry,” or “That must be hard,”. He just lets you be. 

You don’t know what else to say so you focus on the issue at hand. “Okay, so are we ready for this?” is your impatient question as you let the small ball float back into place. 

Yoongi stares for another moment before he clears his throat. “Yeah, just a few things first. We need to be really discreet. There might not be any Magaux there but there should be some monitor spells lying around. So, we have to be careful. And we shouldn't split up. I know it’ll take more time but it’s safer this way,” Yoongi explains, all seriousness and even though you agree, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. 

“Is someone afraid?” you can’t hide your teasing smile and Yoongi scoffs as he tries to hide his own. 

“Me? Please. I’m just saying this for you...” he smirks, and you roll your eyes. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” you take his hand in yours as you close your eyes and recount the spell in your mind. 

You feel the familiar rush of magic travelling through your body, the magic of your home helping you in the process and then you open your eyes. 

But it didn’t work. 

You stare confused at your joined hands. This is weird. 

Yoongi looks concerned. “Is something the matter?” 

“That hasn’t happened before...” you mumble in disbelief, worry filling your mind. 

“Maybe it’s because we’re two people. Have you tried teleporting with another person before?” Yoongi casually drags his hands away from yours. You’re too worried about your powers to notice the crimson hue spreading over his cheeks. 

“I-… No, I haven’t but I don’t think that’s it...” your confusion is palpable as you close your eyes to try again. 

Once more you feel the familiar pull on your gut as your magic concentrates. This time you feel a bit more of it, now that it’s just you, but when you’re about to cross over you feel the difference. There’s something blocking you. Your powers work just fine, moving you along the spell just as they’re supposed to but when it’s time to land, you feel a wall blocking your path. 

“There must be a blocking spell on the estate...” you realise out loud and Yoongi curses softly. 

“Now what? Should we walk all the way there? Someone might see us,” he says in thought, thinking of possible solutions to your problem but you raise an eyebrow. It's simpler than that. 

“...Or we could just teleport outside the estate and walk to the front door?” 

. 

. 

“Okay, now that we’re here how do we get in?” 

This time, you’re successfully teleported outside of the estate, so you resulted in walking the rest of the way. The blocking spell shimmers as soon as you pass the front gate. You fight a shiver at the peculiar sensation.  

True to Yoongi’s words the scene seems cleared, no Magaux anywhere in sight. The Kim’s estate appears larger up close. The building is still standing, yet black spots of fire and ruin grace its appearance and a cold chill runs down your bones.  

The lights are out, the house an imposing structure despite its condition, the smell of ashes wafting through the air. You can’t believe this place was full of life just two weeks ago. 

That it wasn’t just a ruin. 

“The normal way,” Yoongi responds as he climbs the stairs to the front door. You follow close behind. 

“Through the front door? How do you know it doesn’t have any monitoring spells?” you inquire with careful step, wary of making too much noise. 

Yoongi smirks at you but instead of going through the front door, he nears a broken window to the side. The floor creaks with his steps, a contrast to the silence of the night. You resist the urge to shiver. 

He leans in, just barely through the window. He looks around the windowsill, as if looking for something. Once he’s satisfied, he leans back outside with a winning smile. “No monitoring spells here.” 

Your gaze is suspicious. “How can you tell?” 

He waves you over and you both lean inside to take a peek in what seems to be the living room. “Usually monitoring spells have a tell; they must have a beeper nearby to help them keep running for the desired time. The latest versions don’t need it, hence the increase in their price. I doubt Xefoto’s Magaux can afford them...” he comments. You lean more inside, and he points over your shoulder towards a small rectangle metallic box just above the door. 

“Now that’s a beeper. Which means this door is monitored,” he explains as he steps inside the window. Once he’s safely inside he stretches his hand towards you.  

You take it with a careful yet amazed gaze. “How do you know all that?” you move inside, wary of dragging anything with you. You finally place both legs inside before dragging your hand away. 

Yoongi simply shrugs as his eyes move to the interior. “I’m studying to become a Magau. It’s stuff I should know,” he chuckles as he takes a step inside. 

You hum in understanding and your eyes finally take in the living room. Or what used to be the living room. 

The wallpaper is burned to a crips as most spots, heavy black marks covering the walls in a pattern; as if the fire spread out in five, even streams of flame and burned everything in their path. The floor beneath the marks is black in streams too, all pointing towards the centre of the room, as if someone lighted a fire and spread it in five, even directions. Like a ritual would have it. 

“I guess this is where we should look...” Yoongi comments in a grave voice. His fingers skip the black mark on the walls. 

“What happened here...?” you mumble in terror, mostly to yourself. It’s pretty obvious what happened here, but why would someone kill an entire family just for a ritual? 

“Whoever did this, did not mess around...” Yoongi whispers, while you near the fireplace. On top of it rest some burning sage along with some geraniums and a few buds of alyssum; all burned to almost a crisp, outside of the five even streams. The flower petals are black, almost destroyed by the fire. Burning sage is used for protection from enchantment, geranium as an alert for approaching guests and alyssum is used to deflect spells and judging by their condition, you’d say the person behind this knew much about the Kim’s. 

Your eyes then travel to the wall above; decorated with numerous runes and what must be protection spells. But truth is you never paid attention on rune’s class, so you have no idea how to read them. 

“So, we look for anything that might be suspicious?” Yoongi makes an affirmative sound, and you begin looking. Hoping you will at least find something that can help you. 

. 

. 

It’s been two hours or so since you started searching but you have nothing so far. You looked into every corner, under all furniture, looking for cracks in the floor, opening every cabinet and little trinket but you’ve come up empty handed. 

You’re starting to lose hope. You can’t believe you did all this just to come up with nothing. You refused to be pessimistic all day, to avoid jinxing it but now it seems your doubts became a reality. 

You have nothing to move forward from. You only know a witch is somehow involved, someone who knew what they were doing which means it wasn’t anyone from this town. 

Which means you’re screwed. 

With a huff, you stand up. “Come on Yoongi, I don’t think we’ll find anything here...” you admit, shoulders hunched but Yoongi doesn’t budge. 

“I’m not done yet. Plus, we haven’t looked into any of the other rooms yet...” he replies, not really paying attention to you. You tiredly watch as his hands dive in what seems like the hundredth box here. 

You groan, your sore muscles complaining along, and you rub your straining neck. “I doubt we’ll find anything in the other rooms either. Let’s just admit this was hopeless and return to-”  

Your words get cut short when you hear a sound coming from outside. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice it, too immersed in his search, but you’re certain you heard something. Is someone else here? 

“Yoongi...” you whisper lowly, taking a step towards him, your eyes glued to the front door. 

“Wait, I think I found something...!” he mumbles with barely contained excitement, his hand searching through the outer cracks of the box. 

But then you hear it again. 

The unmistakeable creak of the wooden floor on the front porch. Meaning someone is coming up the stairs. 

“Yoongi, someone is here...” you shake his shoulder to gain his attention, to guide his focus at the impending risk of being found out. 

“I can’t get it, just use an invisibility spell or something...” he argues, finger grabbing that... something and yanking it as hard as he can. 

Panic and shame are an awful mix, flooding you at the same time as the creaks sound closer. 

“Yoongi, please, we have to get out now...” your rushed voice reflects the rhythm of your pulse, and your breaths quicken in fear. Your eyes widen and you stare at the door as whoever seems to be outside takes their sweet time to turn down the doorknob. 

A huff comes from your partner. “This is a clue; we have to get it! Why can’t you just cast a disguise or invisibility spell?”  

He obviously doesn’t understand why you’d choose to simply run but once you hear the steps sounding just outside the door you snap. 

“Because I literally can’t!” 

Thankfully your voice was barely a hiss, but it’s enough for Yoongi to hear it and look at you with a surprised gaze. 

Great, is that shame creeping back in? 

“I- I never learned how...” you admit, your voice barely a whisper this time. You avoid Yoongi’s eyes; they are sure to be filled with pity and you can’t take that just yet. You can take a lot of things admittedly, but surprisingly not this. 

The sound of steps travels through the wood again and you remember you’re about to be discovered. “Now can we please get out so I can at least teleport us somewhere safe?!” you hiss, pointing with one hand towards the door. 

Yoongi stares at you for a second too long without replying. Instead, he grabs what seems to be a small stick, stuck into the cracks of the box and with one determined move, he finally gets it out. 

“Got it! Let’s go,” he exclaims triumphant before you drag him towards the back of the house with a tired groan. 

“I used to come here as a kid, there’s a back door at the kitchen and windows we can go out of. If there are monitoring spells in all of them, we can hide until the living room is clear...” you whisper quickly, remembering all the times you came here with your parents for social visits.  

You open the door, push Yoongi quickly inside and lock it behind you. 

“Check for beepers...” you put a chair against the locked door, just to be safe as Yoongi checks the back door first. 

“Clear,” he replies “Although it seems weird the door isn’t monitored, even if it’s just a back door...” he thinks out loud. 

“Well, if it was, we’d be stuck here so forgive me for not looking a gift horse in the mouth...” you roll your eyes at him as you drag him towards the door. “Now let’s get out of here...” you open the back door and motion for him to follow you when you both hear the unmistakeable sound of the front door opening. 

Both your gazes land at the kitchen door, then at each other. 

“Run?” you whisper. 

Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat, and he nods. “Run.” 

Then you’re both out in the backyard, running through the bushes and flowers as quietly as you can. Actually, the garden is really pretty and normally you’d stick around to gaze through the flora, but this is as far from a normal situation as it could be.  

You can’t afford to stop. If you stop now and someone sees you, it’s all over. Noone would care that you had an alibi for that night; they’ll send you straight to prison. 

You reach the fence between the Kim’s estate and the forest, and both of you use the momentum to quickly jump over it, only to land ungracefully at the forest floor. 

Yoongi lays there for a second to catch his breath, but there’s no time to lose. You grab his arm, closing your eyes and recounting the spell as fast as you can, when the telltale sign of power draining takes over you and you suddenly find yourselves back into the floor of your living room. 

“Fuck...” you curse breathlessly, your body slumping down against the floor. Your muscles scream in protest, your legs turned to jelly as your lung struggle to fill up. 

Your eyes find the floating lights at your ceiling, dancing around peacefully; such an obvious contrast to what you just did, and you can’t help but wonder what your father would think of this. 

You think he’d have a heart attack to be honest.  

But your mother? She’d probably be with you all along. 

Yoongi chuckles, out of breath. “Yeah... fuck...” he agrees before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “I haven’t had that much exercise in years...”  he mumbles and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your lips. 

You both lay there too tired to move, your eyes naturally following the spells carved on your celling. 

And that’s when you remember. 

“So, what did we find?” you ask curiously and Yoongi scoffs. 

“We? Oh no, you wanted to leave, you get no credit for this...” he teases, still trying to catch his breath and another laugh escapes you. 

“Fair enough. So, what did you find, oh great detective Min?” you tease back, and he chuckles (an impossibly clear sound you’re sure you won’t be able to get out of your head). 

His hand dives into the pocket of his jeans. Then it emerges, carrying that slim stick you saw him dig out and he passes it to you. You take it cautiously, observing it meticulously. It’s bent at the end in an obtuse angle, frayed at the middle with scratches on its middle part and strings of something soft sticking out of it. Oh wait, it’s not a stick. 

“It’s a feather...” you observe and Yoongi hums in agreement. 

“Yeah, a black one as you can see and those scratches in the middle part?” he points to them right where you saw them before, “At first look they seem inconspicuous, but I think it’s a rune...”. The more you look at it, the more sense Yoongi’s observation makes. Yes, it is a rune, the one resembling the letter “c”, but you have no idea what it means. 

Again, not good with runes. 

“And it seems even more plausible since the feather remained intact through all the debacle,” Yoongi mumbles in thought and you turn to him. 

“You think it was enchanted to withstand the fire?” 

“Maybe. Or maybe it was used to keep the fire from going out, or for something else altogether. I can’t really tell; we’ll have to find out what that rune means...” 

His statement has you looking at the feather again, deep in thought. Someone wanted the Kims gone so bad, they not only lighted their house on fire but did everything necessary so that the fire wouldn’t go out. 

You weren’t aware the Kims had such enemies. In truth, they were one of the most respected families in Xefoto. 

So, who did this, and why? 

“Okay, so where do we go from here?” you pass Yoongi back the feather. 

He takes it back with nimble fingers, softly grazing your own. “I remember seeing a spell recipe that used a black, bent feather with a rune scratched on the middle part in another witch’s book of spells. I don’t remember what the spell was for though, so we need the book to know the details. Do you have yours somewhere around?” he asks curiously, but you shake your head. 

“No. Us witches are supposed to get our books at the age of twelve, along with our mentor. But ever since the accident, the council put a ban in everything regarding casting magic. No mentors, no books, no anything. And you won’t be able to find anything at the local library either, believe me, I’ve tried...” you admit with a sad chuckle. 

Yoongi sits up and stares at you in shock. “Is this why you didn’t know how to cast an invisibility spell?” he asks in bewilderment, voice filled to the brim with disbelief. 

You simply nod. 

His eyes widen, a glim of irritation flashing through them and he drops back to the floor with an angry huff. “I can’t believe this fucking town...” he grits through his teeth, making you shift uncomfortably next to him. 

“It’s fine really. After I’m done with college, I’m gonna search for a mentor elsewhere, so no harm done!” you rush to say, words more bubbly and cheerful than you ever felt about your situation, but it feels vulnerable to let him in, in all those aspects of your life that you hate.  

And you don’t like feeling vulnerable. Even though, with him, it’s the only thing you seem to be doing. 

“No harm done my ass...” he argues with a clipped voice, ready to say some more, when he casts a glance at your side. He sees something that makes him stop though. Instead, he looks at you for a moment longer before he turns his focus forward and clears his throat. 

You two remain silent for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to say. Although it doesn’t feel as strange as it felt a moment ago. Somehow it feels peaceful and quiet and everything you wanted since that fateful day your parents died, and your skin crawls with the whisper of all the things you lost, as if they say you don’t deserve this tranquillity. That this too will be taken away from you because you’ve done nothing in your life to deserve this. Even though life has put you through enough things to owe you this. 

But life doesn’t care about balance or justice. It only takes, unyielding and cruel and indifferent to your sorrows until you have nothing left or you give up. 

You don’t know at what stage you are yet. 

Yoongi somehow senses the dark path your mind has taken you. He knows that for some reason, whatever you’re thinking about now isn’t good for you. The urgency to bring your thoughts back to the present tugs at him so persistently that at first, he sits there in panic, not knowing what to do. 

But the longer he sees that distant, almost resigned look in your eyes, the more words keep trying to escape his throat, until he’s sure that if he tries to voice them, no one would be able to make any sense out of them. 

So instead, he clears his throat again. 

The sound startles you, like waking you up from a nightmare and only realising you’re in the comfort of your bed, and you have to remind yourself you’re safe. 

But as your eyes fall on Yoongi again, that small seed of warmth that appeared when Yoongi first found you in that classroom, spreads the tiniest amount. 

“So how do we find that book?” he asks. 

The question has you smiling. That you know how to get. 

“There’s this guy at school, he’s mostly everyone’s weed dealer, but I've heard that for the right price, he can get you anything; besides other drugs that is,” you explain, and Yoongi sits up once again, resting his weight on his hands. This time though, it’s not rage swimming in his eyes, but excitement. 

“Okay, so let’s talk to him!” comes his enthusiastic response but you wave him off. 

“It’s best if you let me do the talking...” you warn him, knowing if he was to talk to the guy, it wouldn’t end well for any of you. 

He regards you with suspicion. “Why? Who is this guy?” 

You roll your eyes at him with a smile. 

“His name is Dean,” and Yoongi looks even more confused. 

“And he’s a werewolf.” 

next part: {5}

#yoongi #suga #min yoongi #bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi scenario #suga scenario #bts scenario #bts yoongi scenario #vampire!yoongi #supernatural #angst #mystery #magical society au #magicals!au #roleplay #imagine #kpop scenario #idol scenario #suga imagine #yoongi imagine

[bangtanloverboys]

welcome to wizard city, young wizard. here you can explore and learn to control your magic through the schools of ravenwood

or in other words: fuck harry potter aus

the art of balance in magic is harmony, finding equality. all things deserve consideration, and there may be many answers to a single question

pairing - ta!seokjin x transfer student!reader

genre - fluff

summary - looking to further advance in your secondary school, you transfer over to krokotopia. there you meet your handsome houser, seokjin

⚖️ read here ⚖️

ice magic is all about persistence, slow but steady progression and advancement, like the great glaciers forever sliding across the landscape

pairing - class rival!yoongi x teachers pet!reader

genre - fluff

summary - tired of yoongi constantly one upping you, you finally snap, challenging him to a duel. . . in the middle of class. only in the afterwards of your mutual destruction of the classroom do you learn that maybe, just maybe, he’s not as bad as you thought

❄ read here ❄

storm magic is all about creativity. it represents that flash of insight or the spark of inspiration that makes you yell, "eureka!" it is about the pleasure of catching lightning in a bottle

pairing - wizard!hoseok x quester!reader

genre - fluff

summary - needing to refuel, you stop by the fair grounds, only you suck at all the games. thank the spiral that an attrative storm student offers to help

🌩️ read here 🌩️

life is spirit, the force of awareness and existence. it is about constant growth and movement

pairing - tutor!namjoon x neurodivergent!reader

genre - fluff

summary - namjoon likes to think he’s the embodiment of the perfect example of a theurgists: positive and enthusiastic. however when his professor asks him to help tutor one of her secondary students, only then is that pushed to the limit

🍃  read here 🍃 

death is finality, the study of the corporeal. all things pass eventually, and time cannot be held back forever

pairing - quester!jimin x new student!reader

genre - fluff

summary - since everything that’s happened as of late in wizard city, jimin could say that nothing really surprises him anymore. but when he meets you, a novice throwing yourself head first into battle with no experience whatsoever, he will be the first to admit otherwise

💀 read here 💀

myth is imagination. the power of the mind, and everything it can create, drives the myth arts. it is illusion, dreams made real. if you can conceive it, you can bring it forth, bring it to life

pairing - pet trainer!taehyung x pet owner!reader

genre - fluff

summary - after receiving a ghost egg as a reward from a quest, you go looking to help get it hatched. but instead of finding the doctor, you find his assistant

👁️ read here 👁️

fire is passion, the bright, burning flame of raw emotion sweeping over everything. tempestuous, quick to anger, and consumed by whatever drives them at that moment

pairing - new student!jungkook x wizard!reader

genre - fluff

summary - your professor assigns you to look after and help get the new kid, jungkook, settled in. you’d think it be easy, but he’s nothing like any of the other students

🔥 read here 🔥

#bts masterlist #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts wizard au #bts magic au #wizard 101 au

[writersrealmbts]

Clearwater Springs: Part 12

Description: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: idk

Posted: 04/12/2022

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

2,807 words

A/N: Finally finished this part (got writers block) and I'm actually a couple parts ahead? There is a survey (oooh aaaahhh) coming with the next part (I still haven't gotten through all of the choices made in the previous surveys 😭) which I'm hoping to post...sometime soon. Probably will take more time to create the next survey than anything. The next part is already written, after all.

You and Namjoon peered into the music room, not wanting to disturb whatever was happening.

Yoongi was playing the piano, and Seokjin was singing in what you assumed was Korean. It sounded like an old song, and you could see Hoseok mouthing the words.

Jungkook had his eyes closed, seeming to find the song familiar.

Jimin and Taehyung were enraptured.

Namjoon slipped in soundlessly, pulling you along with him.

Jimin glanced over and then smiled with excitement.

You smiled and scrunched your hand in a wave to him, stepping around Jungkook to kiss Hoseok’s cheek, getting drawn back for a kiss on the lips instead, then going and wrapping your hand around Jin’s.

He startled, faltering with the song, but soon continuing with a soft smile.

Continue reading on Ao3

–

Previous ~ Next

Masterlist.  Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

Taglist: @kerikaaria @killcomet @letsreadbts @taestannie @dwaaaaaaaaa @missmoxxiesworld @cheese123344 @insfirebunny @aphot-c @chim-possible  @psiphidragon @i-like-puppy-mg  @daddyjoonie @softescapism @amammietje @4evahevah @slytherclawwarrior @kittylovsu @forever-once-gone @unlikelylittlemiss @mailani-annie @daydreambrliever @miss-fawn @jinternational-playboy @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @the-obsessive-fangirl @mysticalpostobject @reinaxans  @writtenmemoriesau  @sunnysoliculus @carolinexkpop @kassrole @discombobulatedhuman @londongirl2011 @xyahrinx @wayward-student-philosopher @zae007live @hyunwoo-of-eclipse @arujee @i-amtrash @xyahrinx

#clearwater springs fic #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts ot7 #soulmate!au #fairy au #magic au #bts ot7 x reader #namjoon #jimin #jungkook #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #taehyung

[herecomesjoon]

Return

Pairing Yoongi x Reader Rating 13+ Genre/Tropes Magic!au, angst if you squint Warnings Drinking, Min MF Yoongis hands WC 475 Crosspost AO3 - herecomessatvrn Summary One day, your home smelled like his magic again. AN A short drabble written during some sprint sessions. I was inspired by this prompt… "They lived alone, so they were alarmed to see flowers and a sweating glass of champagne on the table when they arrived home."

Thank you @sunshinerainbowsbts for just having a look at this for no other reason than I wanted you to read it first. And thank you @egocypher for the gorgeous moodboard banner for this. <3

Another day done, and it was the same as it had been the day before, and the one before that. Each sunrise melted into the same sunset on repeat, and the only joy in your life thus far had been the neighborhood stray that had claimed you as its own three years ago. As you climbed the stairs, the dusty gray tabby lifted her head, stretched and yawned as she left the last patch of quickly fading sunshine.

“Hey Holly. Anything to report for the day?” 

She yawned again, and meowed before pawing at the door. You smile and hold it open to let her sprint towards the kitchen ahead of you. Just as it had been for the past three years, you had a routine that the two of you had fallen into.

You set down your bag and emptied your pockets into the glass dish on top of the hall table. When you looked up, your cat had stopped short of the kitchen. She stared into the living room as if something else had taken up residence there. You saw the hair on her back bristle before she disappeared through the doorway. 

That's when you felt it. You could smell it too. Like static on a cold day, and that sharp ozone sort of smell after a summer rain. The smell of magic. 

The only magic that should have been in this house was your own. And it smelled of cinnamon and clove, and salty sea air. The further you went into your home, the magic revealed itself to you. One layer at a time. 

First cedar, and then burnt sugar and vanilla. Smoothed over with something sharp and metallic, icy almost. 

You froze in the doorway. This was not new and strange, butsomething familiar from your past. Something, no, someone that you had never thought you would see again. 

From the winged armchair appeared a hand. Long elegant fingers wrapped around a glass filled with amber liquid. On the table beside, a bouquet of flowers. A quick glance around and you saw the same coat he had put on the day he disappeared. It should have shown more age, but it still looked as new as the day you gave it to him. If he had been off in the world getting into trouble, you should have seen the wear and tear. 

Your coat fell to the floor, and in the silence of the house, it was loud enough to make him turn. You dreamed that one day, he would return to you. But yo it was only a dream. Just like you tried to convince yourself that this was. As his profile came into view, you went to pinch your arm, to try to wake yourself up. But not before seeing his face one more time. 

“Hi Love. Sorry I’m late.”

AN Thank you so much for reading! Comments and feedback mean the world to me! Come say hello to me, my ask box is always open! <3

#bts fanfiction #bangtanoasis #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #angst #magic!au #satvrn fics #return #sprint drabble

[btschooseafic]

AO3 Recs

happiest when i meet you by jnivrse [completed]

ot7, yoongi centric, soulmates au, telepathy, magic

yoongi can hear his soulmates’ thoughts in his head

#ot7 #ot7 x ot7 #min yoongi #yoongi centric #telepathy #soulmates au #magic #archive of our own #ao3 #polyam #ot6 x yoongi

[purpleyoonn]

enchanted 2

C H A P T E R   T W O 

“I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

summary: The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au,

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: starts in the middle of war, violence, angst, death, supernatural creatures, smut, dragon customs, dragon instincts, more to come

chapter warnings: mc wakes up, inner questioning, inner worth issues, yoongi is a simp, love at first sight(duh), mc struggles at first, slight agoraphobia, major fluff at end, 

beta'd/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias​​

taglist: @avadakadabra93​ @littlebaby-bunbun​ @veronawrites​ @taempress​ @queen-in-the-shadows​ @suckerforv​ @weepingpickle​ @sugasbultornebae7​ @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf​  @lizzymizzy-blogg​ @bittersweetbaylee​ @sashs-posts​ @rialikesbts​ 

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @yourleftsock @skyys-universe @cryingpages@strxwbloody @drissteele @dustyinkpages @iamkookiesforyou@crushedblackroses @fluffy-canada-pancakes @blaaiissee  @iiitsmaria @carolinexkpop  @azazel-nyx@strawberry-moonpies @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i@knjkitten @foreverweareyoung7@lachimolala22019 @namuficxs @94z-93@kimgmzmc @thenaverse@dahliasbouqet @black-rose-29 @tinyoonsblog@take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d@stellauniverse @stupendouscookiehumanmug@tinyoonsblog @veronawrites@tatyhend @singukieee @m0v3m3ntsblog@exfolitae @butterymin @queen-in-the-shadows @anaspectoflife@welcometomyworld13​ @slinekyu​ @ghostlyworld @svnbangtansworld @loisje123 @i-have-no-life-charlie @danielle143 @jcrml @softieyn @kyuupidwrites @friedlollipop @lulu-83​ @tokiodori​ 

playlist

masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 3

—————————————–

Previously on Enchanted: 

The healer worked slowly under the watchful eye of Yoongi, wrapping up the cuts and bruising on your legs and the bruising on your arm before letting Yoongi know that you would need your legs rebandaged in the morning so he can make sure there was no infections but that you could go.

Yoongi relented, not liking the fact that this male was this close to his mate while she was unmarked. His dragon didn’t recognize the healer as safe, so he was on edge and practically flew you back to his room.

Once you were safe in his room, laying in his bed surrounded by his scent, only then could he begin to relax.

Warmth was an incredible motivator when used correctly. It could and would be frequently be used against you when you were punished. The servant’s quarters in Lord Ahn’s manor weren’t warm, in any way what-so-ever, but they were warmer than sleeping on the hay outside of the building.

Cheorin was located on the southern border of the Min Kingdom and was a major trading and fishing port for the kingdom. The Ahn Estate was on the outside of the city and was a well known boarding house for the Lords and sometimes their families when traveling. It held all of the luxuries that the Lords were used to and far enough away from the bustling city that the “activities” the Lords participated in while visiting were hidden from their wives when traveling alone.

We, the servants, were sworn to secrecy, threatened with things far worse than no food for a week or being assigned to the Lord Daesung for the night. Freezing to death by the cold winds seeping into the servant’s quarters was a far worse death than starvation.

That’s how you knew you were not dreaming: the warmth that surrounded you as your eyelids began to flutter with your slow awakening. It was not unwelcomed, despite the shock to your bones. You almost wanted to curl back into the soft bedding beneath you, pulling the even softer blankets over your head and hiding from the memories that seemed trapped behind your eyes.

You try to recall what had happened to land you in this comfortable warmth that encased you. You remember the pain in your legs, the desperation to get the beam off of you, the way the ghoul climbed its way slowly to you. You remember your savior, his red eyes and the way he clung to you as he picked you up, as if you were precious to him. It didn’t make sense, until you remembered the word he growled out when he realized who you were.

“Mate.”

The words were not foreign to you, despite being a human who grew up thinking only the creatures from your father’s stories could have mates fated to them. You couldn’t believe what the King had said, even now as you guessed where you were. You thought you were in one of the lower rooms of the palace, the servant quarters, maybe.

A servant belonged on the floor, below everyone else.

After a couple more minutes cuddled into the warmth you are not accustomed to, you slowly lift your head, sitting up in a large bed. Looking around, you notice the dark handcrafted furniture, carved with ornate details across from you. It had a large mirror rested on it with a couple other things you couldn’t make out scattered on the top. You noticed the sunlight peaking it which had you doing a double take. The servant’s quarters usually didn’t have windows.

Your eyes immediately catch on the large window and through it, a balcony covered in plants looking out over the grounds. You wanted to open the doors, bask in the sunlight and fade away by the smell of the beautiful plants. But you knew that would not be your future.

The rest of the room was covered in soft purple and gold silks, sleek furniture, and something even more daunting; the King himself.

You gasp as you pull the blankets from your legs and practically throwing yourself off the bed. A cry tore through your lips at the sudden pain in your legs, your body almost crumbling to the floor if someone hadn’t caught you.

The King moving faster than you could see, caught you in his embrace before you hit the ground. You tried to push him away, not wanting the King to have to touch something as low as you. Your fight was lost as soon as he growled lowly, your body becoming tense as you freeze in fear.

“Please, I’m sorry.” You don’t know what you were apologizing for, but you couldn’t help it when the words tumbled from your mouth. Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You had no clue how long you had been out.

Yoongi wanted to cry from the blatant fear you had of him. He could smell it on you, like a black swirl of smoke impeding all of his senses. It made the back of his throat itch and his eyes burn. He could feel his dragon wanting to take over again but that was the last thing you or he needed.

He picked you up in his arms, softly placing you back onto the bed as if you were made of glass. His touch was so very warm, a tingle spread through your body. It was such a wonderful feeling that you had to fight yourself to keep from whimpering at the loss of his touch as he moved away from you, now standing a few feet away. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. You were wanting to cry at the loss of the King’s touch?! How much more insolent could you be?! He was a King!

You were too preoccupied with your own thoughts to notice when Yoongi returned and sat by your side on the bed, the cream his healer had given him in his hands. He put the cream onto his palm, rubbing the cream between his hands until it had warmed up, and began to massage it into your calves, making sure to be gentle around some of the deeper, scabbed over wounds.

Startled, you jolt at the feeling of his hands on your legs, biting back a groan of contentment you wish to let out. His hands felt like they belonged on you, warm and gentle despite the callouses on his palms. You hadn’t expected, well, any of this to happen when you opened your eyes, let alone watching in surprise as the King rubbed some kind of cream onto your legs.

“Your Majesty…” You try to protest but your words are cut off when he looks up at you, his eyes challenging you to try and stop him.

When he sees the fight die down, Yoongi feels a content grumble begin in his chest, loud enough for you to hear as his features soften. You watch his eyes brighten with happiness as he smiles softly at you.

By the fates above, you knew you would do anything to keep that smile on his lips. Like that was your one reason for being; you needed nothing else in your life. Well, maybe besides the air that you forgot to breathe in when he smiled at you.

When he was done, you believe he had to have used some kind of magical cream, as the pain you felt upon standing was no longer there, a certain numbness to your legs but you could tell that you weren’t really numb. You could still feel your legs and could feel the movement within them as you shifted on the bed (coincidentally closer to the King who smiled at you, momentarily distracting you).

You were about to ask why the King himself was by your side, helping you, when a knock sounded on the door causing your courage to dry up and your question to wither away in your mind.

Yoongi saw this and grinned a little at your shyness before getting off the bed and turning to the door to see who was there. He specifically ordered everyone to leave his wing as he wanted to have alone time with you when you woke up. He didn’t want his Queen to be bombarded by excited dragons eager to meet their King’s mate.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t expecting to be greeted by his oldest friend, the dragoness who took care of him when his parents were busy with their duties. He tried to hide his blush of embarrassment, knowing he was about to get his neck rung.

“Min Yoongi! I thought I taught you better than this? Hiding your soulmate from the world is not the way to go about things. I should have been the first to meet her, and now I hear that one of the healers got to see her before me?” The woman scolded the King, reminding you of how your mother used to talk to you when you got in trouble. Yoongi only moved out of the way, letting his dragoness enter his space.

You watch the smaller plump woman practically grab the King by his ears and drag him back into the room, eyes wide at the display of power against the King. You were shocked that he just let her maneuver him, wondering just who this woman was to be able to get away with acting like this.

“Shinhye, I promise I was going to let you meet her. I just wanted alone time with my mate before we were swarmed.” Yoongi tried to explain his actions, but only got a raised eyebrow in response.

Hearing the King call you his mate again had you in a blushing mess. It felt different to hear it now, the circumstances being drastically different from the first time you heard it; you weren’t distracted by pain and panic, you could feel the affection and pride in his voice.

When the woman, Shinhye, turned to the bed, she was pleased to see you blushing at her boy’s words.

Good, she thought, maybe our King won’t be so alone anymore.

The warmth from your smile and cheeks was enough to warm even the Dragon King’s seemingly cold exterior.

“Well, alone time will have to be done later. It is breakfast time and I can tell that your little mate needs some food in her belly.” Shinhye declared once she noticed your bones peeking through the clothes you had been changed into. You were nearing dangerously thin and she (nor Yoongi) wasn’t happy about it. She could tell that your background was not a good one from that alone. She wanted to do what she could to help you, that meant getting something nutritious in you quickly.

“You will bring her down for breakfast. Everyone is well aware of your wishes and only two staff will be serving the meal. She needs to see more than just your room, your Majesty.” You vaguely hear her mention the King’s brother and other people who will be eating with you both. You would have protested to her concern, truly not wishing to be around so many new people at once but just then the last part of her sentence struck you..

You were in the King’s room. You were laying in the King’s bed!

I really am the King’s mate, you realized! You knew that it was against the dragon code to bring anyone to your bed who wasn’t your mate.  If you were in the King’s room, his den, and in his bed with a dress covering your shape, you had to be his mate! There was no way for your mind to twist this or misunderstand it anymore.

You were the Dragon King’s soulmate.

You, a measly human servant girl!

“I think my room is just fine.” Yoongi mumbled under his breath but still promised that he would be bringing you down to the dining hall for breakfast.

He turned to you and noticed you were frozen, just staring at him with your big doe eyes. He melted under your gaze, working hard to push against your spell as he moved to his wardrobe to find something suitable for you. He had already commissioned a wardrobe to be made for you with the finest silks and colors but they wouldn’t be coming for another few days.

So, he guessed that his own clothes would have to do. He didn’t even feel his own lips turn up into a proud and possessive grin at his thoughts. The thought of you in his clothing fed into his own protective nature, coupled with his dragon’s desire to keep you close, this was the perfect solution to the problem at hand. You would smell like him and be shown to the world in his clothes, the ultimate display of courtship and mating within dragon culture, well, besides you wearing his mating mark.

He grabbed a simple button shirt and some pants with a belt for you, hoping it would fit somewhat until your wardrobe showed up. Turning around, he couldn’t help but to deflate a little with the way you looked at him, wide eyed and almost curious, like you couldn’t believe your situation. In hindsight, he knew you were probably questioning everything, but he hoped he could prove himself to you sooner rather than later. To help guide you and adjust to your life in the palace and with him. He knew there was some darkness and mistreatment in your past, and he wanted you to feel safe with him.

“Here, you can wear these.” He hands the clothing to you before leaving the room, giving you space to change in private. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable with him. The distance between the two of you was already making his dragon antsy, but he needed you to accept him before he could allow his dragon to do anything.

You watched the King leave his den before staring down at the clothes he handed you. The fabric felt so soft in your hands; very delicate as you turned them over and examined them. It had been years since you last wore trousers, the staple of your childhood in the forest outside of your home. It felt weird wearing them as an adult.

They were a little big, and long, you were grateful the King had thought to give you a belt so they wouldn’t fall down. The shirt was like a dress to you, long enough that the fabric fell to your knees and you struggled to tuck the bottom into the pants. By the time you were done getting dressed, you were afraid that breakfast was already over and a little anxious believing that you had kept the King from eating.

“I apologize, your Majesty. I did not mean to take so long.” You bow your head, not exactly knowing how to address your soulmate as you stepped out of the den, closing the door behind you. You did not know if he would treat you like your father treated your mother, or if you would be reminded of the distant relationship between the Lord and Lady Ahn.

When he didn’t immediately say anything, you hazarded a peek at him while keeping your head bowed. You saw him bring his hand up, agonizingly slow, towards your face. You quickly screwed your eyes closed, flinching, waiting for the blow you knew was coming. You definitely offended him, taking so long to get dressed! How could you mess up so quickly? But the slap you expected never came, instead his touch was soft; sweet even as he gently cupped your chin, slowly bringing your head up.

You opened your eyes again, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed the small smile gracing his lips.

“You never need to bow your head to me, my Queen.” Your confusion transformed into awe as he rubbed his thumb across your jaw before dropping his hand to grab onto your, lacing his fingers with your own.

Never before had you felt so safe or comfortable with a man. Not even with your own father, who had had taught you to be patient by helping you gather flowers and water for paint. He showed you what it meant to be kind, always helping our neighbors and talking courteously to everyone he passed by. You wanted to trust your heart, your mind even dreaming of bonding with your future partner; wanting to fulfill the dreams of your childhood.

Dreams of walking with your own partner in the forests behind your childhood home. Collecting berries for paint and forging new paths with each other. You loved the story your father told you of early life with your mother, of how they first met and recognized their lives were better together. You wanted to experience that love with your partner. You wanted to lay amongst the flowers with them, looking up at the clouds and making shapes out of them.

You decided if this was a dream, you might as well go along with it.

You nod your head at the King’s words, letting him bring you down the long corridors and hallways, his words captivating as he tells you about the castle itself. He tells you stories of his childhood, how his father had rescued a boy who would later become one of his best friends.

You were entranced by him, by the way he walked and talked. You loved the smile he wore when he seemed happiest, his gums shining brightly as if sharing his own happiness with the world around him.

So entranced, in fact, you didn’t realize you had arrived at the room where breakfast was served, startled by the herald, announcing the King’s presence and consequently your own.

“Their Royal Majesties, King Min and his Queen.” The Herald, Seokmin, yelled to the large room once the doors opened, causing you to jump in place and the King to grin. You were shocked to say the least when everyone in the room bowed at your arrival.

The room itself was grand, something you could imagine large parties being held in. There were paintings depicting the Dragon history along the walls, the colors bringing a certain enchantment to the room. The large table in the middle held what seemed like twenty chairs with two larger chairs sitting at one end. The biggest of the two right at the head of the table, and the second one to the right of the table.

You looked at the King but he just smiled and walked forward, hand still holding yours the entire way to the head of the table where the two ornate, high back chairs sat. The King only released your hand in order to pull out the smaller of the two chairs, on the right, before gesturing for you to sit. You tried to shake your head no, moving quickly forward to tell him that he should never pull out a chair for someone lower than him, but you fall flat, seeing the warning look he gave you.

Instead, you slowly sit down on the small throne, noticing the floral engravings and etchings in the dark wood. You ran your fingers along the leaves on the arms as the large chair next to you was pulled out and the King sat down, pulling his own chair in despite one of the runner boys rushing to push it in for him.

Once he was seated, the server standing at the walls came forward and started filling the table with the food on the trays they had stacked on a pushcart. You saw foods that you didn’t recognize being placed in front of you, colors like the paints you used to make sitting on the plates of food.

When he moved back to the wall, the King on your left began reaching for the plates in front of you both, grabbing the colorful food and even sweeter looking pastries and placing them on his plate. Once his plate was filled, he placed it in front of you, taking your plate and then filling that up for himself.

“These are all my favorites. Better to grab them before the others.” He whispered to you, a slight smirk on his face as he gestures his head to one of the men a couple of chairs down, his cheeks filled with food, reminding you of a chipmunk. You giggle a little making Yoongi’s eyes light up with adoration.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” You bow your head again, before remembering that he asked you not to bow your head to him again.

“Please, call me Yoongi. As my mate, you should feel free to address me by my name.” The last sentence he said with decisiveness, as if demonstrating that he was serious about it. That you were his mate and he was determined that you understand what that meant.

You awkwardly nodded your head, repeating his name over and over again in your mind. The many years you spent serving Lord Ahn had drilled etiquette, proper forms of addressing your betters and displaying proper subservient manners into your barin. You couldn’t be sure how quickly you could unlearn this type of behavior or even if you could adapt to your new role. It would take you some time but you hoped you could. You would hate for the King, Yoongi, to have to keep reminding you, saving his breath for more important things.

“Or, you could call him Yoongles.” The person he gestured earlier speaks up, an amused lilt to his voice as he speaks to you. “Or kitty. He looks like a cat if you look at him long enough.”

“He also likes to be called ho—” The man was cut off by a pastry hitting his face, right in the cheek.

You covered your mouth at the scene, your mouth open wide as the man turns and glares at the Ki—Yoongi. Yoongi was looking right back at the man, a smirk on his lips.

“Why must you through a pastry at my face? I was only telling her the truth.”

“Why must you tell my mate these ridiculous stories, Jin?” Yoongi countered. The man, who you now know is named Jin, only gasped.

“Ridiculous stories?! I’ll have you know—” Yoongi ignored him, leaning towards you.

“This is my advisor—”

“And bestest friend in the entire world!”

“And one of my close friends, Kim Seokjin, but I call him Jin.” You turn to Jin, giving him a shy smile as you introduce yourself.

“Of course. I think the entire castle has heard about you by now. The whispers are not as quiet as they wish to be.” Jin told you, making you freeze. You did not know how long you had been out cold, but you didn’t think the entire castle would have known about your presence. It made you nervous to be on everyone’s radar. This usually meant you had done something wrong at Lord Ahn’s manor, which was never a good thing.

Maybe you underestimated the workers within the castle. You knew that secrets were never secrets with the servants. You were a servant yourself.

“But do not worry about them. Everyone wishes to get to know the little human who was able to finally gain our little King’s affection. He has been waiting for you for a long time.” Jin waved his hand at you, trying to dispel your worries. He could feel your emotions radiating off you, could see how truly nervous you were despite Yoongi doing his best to push his pheromones out to comfort you.

Your aura was a dark green and swirling blue. Jin could see your deep connection to the earth and the sadness swelling within. He could see how hard and traumatic your life has been, the blue almost matching the King’s.

Jin had a gift that gave him an advantage over the other dragons from his hoard. He could see the auras of the soul. His father had shared the same gift, making him a special advisor to the late King Geumjae. A job that now resided with him. He was the left hand to the king, especially important when trying to decipher friend from foe.

“A long time indeed.” The other man spoke up from besides you. His features were soft, but you could tell they would cut you in an instant. He had been watching you, observing you the entire time. He felt oddly familiar with you, as if he had seen you somewhere before.

Jimin didn’t feel anything bad from you, his sixth sense had never been wrong before. He could tell you were as innocent as you seemed, but he knew he should keep an eye on you. If his suspicions were correct, you would need it.

“My name is Jimin, and I am Yoongi’s younger, adopted brother.” Jimin smiled at you, holding his hand out to shake your hand. You did so, gaining a large smile from Jimin, his eyes creasing closed as he did so, and from Yoongi, watching the interaction of the two most important people to him.

Jimin had grown up in the Witches realm, but during one of the initial attacks on the Min Kingdom, he had been found under the rubble of one of the towers, blown to pieces and stacked on top of the little boy. Min Geumjae, the Dragon King and Yoongi’s father, had found him after hearing the cries of the dying boy. He saved him and adopted him to be raised as Yoongi’s younger brother.

“It is very nice to meet you Jimin.” You smile back at him, loving the energy you feel coming from the man. He seemed very polite and nice, something you weren’t expecting.

“Has our lovely King taken you to the gardens yet?” Jimin asked you after a couple seconds, giving you time to eat some of the fruit Yoongi had put on your plate. His tone was sarcastic but his eyes held sincerity. They all could see how much you needed the nutrients and to have the sun on you, the vitamin much needed given the pallor to your skin.

When Yoongi had first changed your clothes, not allowing anyone else to come near you in your state, he had become enraged, thrashing the east wing office in his fit. You were practically skin and bones, and he had found more bruises on you than just the ones visible ones on your arm and legs.

It had taken both Jin and Jimin, along with Namjoon and one of the personal guards, Jungkook, to hold the King down so that Jimin and Hoseok, the chef, could calm him down. Taehyung, the royal florist, being called in from Jungkook. The six men had to sit with him and talk him down. They were his closest friends and were the only people Yoongi would allow near him in such a state.

“No, he has not. I had just woken up only moments before being brought down here.” You replied back, leaving out the fact that Yoongi’s mother figure had practically demanded your presence at breakfast.

“Well, I think a stroll in the gardens is in order after breakfast. You should really see all the wonderful colors Taehyung has brought into the courtyard.” Jimin looked at Yoongi, nodding his head the slightest bit, making sure he would take his mate outside.

They wanted you to know you were not a prisoner. This was your home now. Plus, Jimin had the feeling that his mate would be able to help you open up, even the tiniest bit. Taehyung seemed to have a way with people that even he would never be able to understand.

Plus, they all noticed the way your eyes light up at the mention of the gardens, Jimin knew that his brother would now be spending most of his time within the outer walls, picking flowers for his lovely mate.

“That would be wonderful, if it is okay with you?” You turn your head to Yoongi at the end, hoping and praying to the gods that your soulmate would let you out into the gardens. It had been a long time since you were surrounded by flowers, and you had sorely missed blending in with all the colors.

“Of course, my Queen.” The tilt of his head had your heart fluttering.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi’s own heart fluttered at the way your doe eyes shined with hope at his words. He would give you the world as long as you continued to look at him like this.

He would do anything for his Queen.

-*-*-

Yoongi knew he was in love with you at first sight.

The way you tried with all your might to free yourself from underneath the column on top of you, the raw emotions flowing from your skin as you cried in anguish, not thinking of quitting in the slightest. You were incredibly strong, a warrior in your own right.

Yoongi fell for you again as he watched the amazement and wonder cross your features once the doors to the garden were opened. He watched as your mouth subconsciously turned into a smile; eyes alit as you reached for one of the wildflowers that was encroaching on one of the fences at the start of one of the paths through the garden.

It was as if you had never seen such beauty before. Yoongi wasn’t sure what sort of expression he was making, watching every emotion you were feeling flutter across your face, rather like an open book. He imagined the goofy grin Jin would tease him about was out in full force, wide across his face.

You continued to surprise him at every turn. He had thought you would be terrified of him, by what he was. He almost expected you to be trying to get away from him, looking for an escape while calling him all sorts of nasty names any time he came near. His experience with humans had given him such expectations. Even his high status as the ruler of this kingdom did not exempt him from the fear and contempt the other dragons faced from humans. He was blown away by the way you seemed to move closer to him instead of using this opportunity to scale the garden wall. For all the good it would do you.

It seemed like you gravitated towards each other. When he moved, you moved. When you reached out for a flower with particular thorns, he moved, as if to try and shield you from the pain he knew would come. But it never did. You were familiar with the flowers, another thing he was happy to learn.

Yoongi wanted to know everything he could about you. He wanted even the tiniest of details of who you were at your core.

He wanted to know your favorite color, what time of day was your favorite to gaze up at the sky. He wished to know what made you smile, what would make you laugh uproariously, holding your belly as you tried to contain the joy that would spill forth.

He watched how you practically floated down the path that led to the large fountain, reaching out and caressing the petals of each flower you saw. He listened as you listed off every detail you could remember about each flower, even flowers that weren’t in the garden.

He learned that the chef, Hoseok, could be using the Tulip bulbs as a substitute for onions within the castle’s recipes. The lotus flower, a symbol of life and resurrection, can stay dormant for years and then rise again with the return of water. Sunflowers can be used to find direction, as the flowers themselves seemed to respond to the movement of the sun, from east to west.

He also learned that you had a love for lavender and sunflowers. You always seemed to return back to the two plants, happiness and nostalgia turning your scent into a sweet honey, making his mouth water and his lips turn up into a smile. He wasn’t entirely sure that he knew what a sunflower was, but it sounded like something he should speak to Taehyung about.

However, your wonder dialed up once you caught sight of the large fountain his father had erected for his mother before he was born. It was one of his courting gifts, one that had his mother accepting the courting and led to their mating.

You didn’t know that, though. You were caught up in the image created within the marble. A large dragon in a protective stance over a small female, tail curled in front of her as if warning away all who would dare harm her. A wild grass filled with flowers sat upon the floor, a path created by the marbled flowers that the water from the fountain sprouted from. The other waterfall came from the dragon’s open mouth, a more powerful run as the water fell.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Yoongi seemed to catch you off guard; you had completely forgotten that the dragon was with you.

“It is.” You responded back in awe. “I wish I could stay here forever.” You turn around in a slow circle, looking at your surroundings and moving slower until you stood back in front of Yoongi.

“I would never keep you locked in my chambers.” Yoongi could hear the wishful tone in your words. He could also smell the nerves tampering with your sweet honey.

Yoongi moved closer until he was only inches away from you, his hands moving to hold yours, bringing them up to his lips so he could plant soft kisses on your knuckles.

“I have been waiting years for you. I have had dreams of you for as long as I could remember, your laughter caught in my head, keeping me alive even when I might have wished otherwise. You will never be hidden from the world. You are my treasure, and I will treat you as such.” You looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears as your soulmate seemed to read every thought and fear you had of your union.

Of the minimal things you had heard of dragon mates, none of them were very kind. You feared that you would be kept in his hoard, never allowed to leave. It seemed that your previous teachings were wrong, and it had you wondering what being a dragon’s mate entailed, the courting rituals, and what the future would look like if you accepted.

“You are the Queen of my realm, and you will have full access to everything your heart desires. As long as you are happy, my heart and dragon will be satisfied.” His words have you turning your hands to grip his own.

“What if you are the cause of my happiness?” Your lips turn up, gazing into his eyes as he seems shocked. “Will you be satisfied with that?”

“Then I shall be the happiest dragon alive, my Queen. I wish nothing more than to be the cause of your smile for the rest of my days.” His words make you blush, now shy as you look down at the ground.

If this is what fate had in mind for you, dreams be damned, you would never question her intentions again.

#bts #bts au #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #min yoongi soulmate #bts fantasy au #bts yoongi #bts supernatural au #bts dragon au #bts dragon mates #min yoongi x reader #dragon king! yoongi #dragon king yoongi x human reader #violence #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #magical creatures #angst #magic #witches #fluff #enchanted #purpleyoonn

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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

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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.

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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#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #yoonmin smut #bts fantasy au #bts fanfiction #yoonig fanfic #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts magic au #bts fae au #bangtanwhq

[darkjimxn]

Chapter 4: The Evil Twin

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter this time! Unfortunately I won't be able to post another chapter in a while because I have my exams currently, but I should be free by the end of the month! Until then I'll probably post more for The Crab Cult since I've already got a few chapters in the drafts lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

“Guess again, princess.”

Guess again…? What was that supposed to mean?

The man standing before you was clearly Jimin. But how had he managed to dye his dirty blonde hair into a rich purple in a matter of minutes? How had he managed to change his bright blue eyes into a menacing dark red? Did he magic himself to change his appearance? But why would he even do that in the first place?

Questions upon questions started to pile into your mind, only adding to your confusion, until a single memory bulldozed the pile to the ground. 

‘Wait! You have to tell me,’ Jungkook had gasped, ‘is it true you have an evil twin? I’ve heard so many rumours about it. And I swear I saw this guy that looked just like you in class earlier!’

Jungkook’s words, which had been disregarded as silly rumours at the time, suddenly came to mind as the realisation dawned on you. 

Perhaps his words weren’t as silly as you thought. 

Your gaze raised to the man standing before you, studying him before you spoke slowly.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Jimin’s evil twin, would you?”

The man paused, his eyes just barely widening for a moment before he laughed. It was a chilling sound, scattering goosebumps all over your arms as it bounced against the walls of the dim, empty hall. While Taehyung’s gaze had felt icy and unwelcoming, this man’s laugh felt like a deadly warning. 

“Evil twin?” He repeated once the laugh had tapered off, tone now laced with apathetic amusement, “no one has ever said that to my face before.”

He studied your form for a moment, gaze travelling from your uniform to the wand in your hand to your features before finally raising to meet yours once again. 

“Judging from your lack of trembling, you’re either wildly ignorant…”

The evidently fake amusement suddenly vanished from his face as he took a step forward, leaving just a breath’s worth of space to lay between you both. You could feel the edge of your uniform brush against his own as you felt your chest rise in irritation. 

“Or you’re extremely dumb,” he finished, his voice low and simmering alongside his unwavering eyes. 

His desire to intimidate you was as clear as day. 

But you would not be so easily intimidated, so instead you met his gaze confidently as you forced your expression to remain unfazed. Who did he think he was to send you a hidden threat? Principal’s son be damned, he would learn what happens when you’re pushed to your limit. 

You brought your hand to his clothed chest before giving him a forceful shove, hoping to create some distance between the two of you. He didn’t move as much as you would have liked, barely half a step at the most. 

“I’m neither, so I suggest you stop throwing words like that around so carelessly. Do you even know who I am?”

You regretted the words the second they had left your lips, cringing as you realised how they might have sounded. They implied that you were like every other elitist here, hiding behind your parents’ money and power. But that had not been what you meant.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s brother didn’t seem to realise that. 

He gasped dramatically, bringing his hands to his mouth as his voice dripped in sarcastic fear, “oh my, you’re right! I should know my place shouldn’t I?”

That earned him a roll of your eyes.

“Tell me, which mommy and daddy will put me behind bars if I speak to their princess badly, hm?”

“I’m not talking about my parents,” you snapped, irritated by his condescending tone, “it’s me you should be worried about.”

A scoff sounded at the back of his throat, as if you had said something unbelievable. You hated how annoyed that made you, so much so that you were ready to end this conversation and head to your room.

“Whatever,” you said, gaze momentarily taking in the bright moon standing proudly outside the hall’s window, “what are you doing here in the dead of night?”

Jimin’s twin crossed his arms over his chest as he raised a challenging brow, “and how is that any of your business?”

“It’s my school,” you deadpanned, “if you’re about to blow it to bits, I’d like to at least be aware that a celebration is in order. Now care to explain?”

The ends of lips twitched, “you know I could ask you the same. What are you doing here all by yourself, at a time like this?”

“Do you always answer questions with another question?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

The both of you stared each other down, yours a seething glare while his was filled with cocky amusement. You seemed to have met your match when it came to stubbornness, and you had to admit you were far from amused. 

“Is this a twin thing?” You spoke sharply, “you’re a complete jerk while your brother is just slightly more tolerable?”

You noticed his amusement vanish at your words, leaving behind a hard expression that tore through your gaze. You got the feeling that he was thrown off by something you had said. 

“... slightly more tolerable?” He repeated slowly, eyes calculatingly sharp all of a sudden, “ that’s not usually how people describe my dear old brother.”

“I called you a jerk too, which last time I checked was much worse,” you remarked, not understanding his suddenly excessive interest. 

“Did you hurt Seokjin?” 

The randomness of the question had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out a stupid, “what?”

You didn’t understand the connection between calling him a jerk, calling Jimin tolerable, and hurting Seokjin. Whatever was going on in the mind of the man before you, you couldn’t possibly tell. 

“Jimin is only rude to people that hurt Seokjin,” Jimin’s brother explained, still harbouring a lethal gaze, “if you hurt Jin, and Jimin was rude to you, it would explain why you’re not a fan of him.”

“What does that ev-”

“I asked a question,” he said sharply while cutting you off, “one I’m expecting an answer to.”

Despite the fact that he had interrupted you and his tone had become threatening again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. All you could do was stare at him with a confused expression, wondering where this conversation had gone. 

“No,” you answered finally, “I didn’t hurt Seokjin. I hate your brother because he’s annoying. That’s all.”

“I see,” he said, lost in thought for a moment before the amusement sunk back into his features. This dude was going to give you whiplash at this point, “in that case, you seem to have caught my attention, princess.”

“Am I supposed to be honoured?” You scoffed, “I could care less what you think of me.”

“I’ve already wasted more than enough time with you here anyway. Blow up the school, don’t blow up the school, I don’t care. Just stay away from me.”

You turned around and started walking away, but not before adding for good measure, “or you’ll regret it.”

Jimin’s brother watched you walk away curiously, a thought lingering at the back of his mind. You had just pushed against one of the heavy doors when he turned and crouched in front of the Tree of Life. 

A soft bang, reverberated around the hall, causing you to pause in your escape and face him once again. You were met with the view of Jimin’s brother bent over the floor. 

Except, the floor was no longer the pristinely smooth marble tiles organised throughout the area. Instead, a large tile had been pushed upwards, almost like a trap door. You moved closer, peering deeper to find a set of stairs travelling downward, directly under the Tree of Life.

Your gaze flitted to Jimin’s brother, who was staring into the deep abyss thoughtfully.  

“They say this trap door leads to an ancient and long since abandoned lab that used to belong to Park Bogum, the creator of Elitist Academy,” he said, “you must know about the rumours surrounding him…”

“Regarding his affiliations with Counterbalance.”

You paused, cautiously taking in his words.

Most people lazily referred to Counterbalance as dark or black magic, but that was an overly simplified term to describe a thing that was much more complex. While Life magic was the magic that essentially sustained the world, Counterbalance was the magic that countered it to keep it in check. Sure, that inherently didn’t make Counterbalance evil in itself, but the magic had been associated with so many horrible things that have happened in the past that some have made the association anyway. 

“How do you know that? Why do you know that?” You asked.

“Why?” He countered, pushing himself off the ground to face you, “are you scared?”

“It’s dark magic. If you’re not scared, you’re just stupid.”

Jimin’s brother gave you a devilish grin, one that you found both irritating and unnerving at the same time, before he stepped towards you. The two of you were close once again.  

“Wanna come with me?” 

You gave him an incredulous look, “did you not hear what I just said? There’s a reason why attempting to manipulate Counterbalance is forbidden.”

“Yes, the reason being cowardice,” Jimin’s brother said with a scowl, “dark magic is simply a different type of magic we’re not yet familiar with. If we keep hiding from it, we’ll always cower in its shadow.”

“So tell me, are you coming or not?”

He was crazy. It was the only explanation you could come up with to explain why he seemed so interested in potentially entering a Counterbalance lab. And as much as you pitied the insane, you were not going to let them lead you by example.

“Forget it,” you said immediately, stepping away from him, “if we get caught, we could actually get expelled.”

And then I’ll have to go back there.

“Do whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

You turned around and stormed towards the door to the residences but, just like last time, you only managed to push the giant door open before you paused. 

Technically speaking, you’ve only ever read about Counterbalance magic very briefly in a few textbooks here and there, while your tutors would barely even mention the topic if at all. Yet, here Jimin’s brother was, giving you a first-hand opportunity to look at an entire dark magic lab?

This was a once in a lifetime experience.

You hated just how curious these things could make you sometimes, especially knowing the horrors that have been caused by misusing Counterbalance. The stuff shouldn’t be messed with, history had taught that lesson enough times. 

But… one little look couldn’t hurt, could it?

It’s not like you were actually going to try to manipulate dark magic, you knew that would be crossing an unspeakable limit. But what harm could just looking around to satisfy your curiosity do?

Very slowly, you detached yourself from the double-doors and walked back to the Tree of Life, trying your absolute best to ignore the smirk Jimin’s brother had on his face as he eyed you. 

“Changed your mind?” He asked innocently, failing miserably at hiding his smug expression.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” he said, turning towards the trapdoor.

“Let’s get going.”

-

-

-

It was clear the walls making up the passageway were the roots of the Tree of Life. You could feel the familiar rough texture of its bark as you descended the spiralling staircase behind Jimin’s brother cautiously, ready to bolt if he tried anything. You obviously didn’t trust him fully, unsure of the exact reason why he had invited you along. But you didn’t bother asking knowing that he probably wouldn’t have given you an actual answer anyway. 

Instead you continued to feel your way down the pitch black space, focusing on not tripping, though the thought of Jimin’s brother falling because of you put a satisfied smile on your face. 

A few minutes later the passageway opened up into a large cavern, the walls still clearly made of bark. But the bark was different, with a dark brownish, blackish colour that made it seem like it was rotting. 

To your left, carved into the wall of bark, was an array of bookshelves holding a number of leatherbound and worn books, while to your right stood a long table full of various lab equipment and trinkets. You scanned a wooden test tube rack holding four vials filled halfway with a glowing turquoise substance and a tray filled with a number of oddly coloured and shaped stones. A large textbook was sprawled next to it, open to a page depicting a number of trees followed by blocks of text. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. 

Next to the table was a large cauldron, filled to the brim with the same glowing turquoise liquid in the vials, bubbling atop a flame. Brows furrowed, you brought your hand over the raging orange and maroon fire, confirming your suspicion: the flame had been magicked to only heat the cauldron. With everything being wood in the room, it was a wise choice. The sides of the cauldron were dusty as well. 

Your gaze shifted back to Jimin’s brother, who was scanning the room just as curiously as you had been. His eyes missed nothing as they jumped from one small detail to the next. 

“Well?” You said. 

“Well what?”

“What do you mean well what? Didn’t you come down here for a reason?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “that’s none of your business.”

You watched him turn away to pick up one of the books on the long table. He was the one that had brought you down here for who knows what reason, what was the point of being so secretive? You were going to see whatever he was down here for anyway. 

Jimin’s brother set the book down, moving onto the vials in the test tube rack. He gently picked one up with his hand, and it was only then when you realised that they were gloved. Brown cloth gloves with golden rims encased both his hands while reaching a little above his wrists, a marked difference in uniform compared to the rest of the student body. Was he a germaphobe or something?

He turned to the rest of the things scattered around the table, shuffling through them. It didn’t take a detective to know that he was clearly looking for something. 

But then again, what did it matter to you? You weren’t here to help him, so you turned around and went back to inspecting the other side of the room. Whoever had been studying in this lab seemed to have a special affinity for plants. There were plant specimens everywhere. Samples of different types of tree bark were hung on the wall in a frame with writing giving the descriptions of the trees they had come from, while another table separated by a movable partition held a number of different plant roots that had been dissected like a cadaver. You’d never been very interested in botany, so the evident obsession with plants had kind of dampened your interest in the place. 

Once you had finished searching the area, finding nothing but more and more botanic experiments, you turned to Jimin’s brother in disappointment. 

“I’m not seeing anything dark magic related,” you said crossing your arms, wondering if he had just brought you down here as some kind of prank. It seemed unlikely, but you still couldn’t help but wonder. 

Jimin’s brother sighed frustratedly as he set a piece of black tree bark down, “I know.”

His tone told you that he probably had not been expecting this either. Clearly he hadn’t found what he was looking for. 

“You sound disappointed,” you noted. 

He didn’t answer as his gaze stayed fixed on the table, waves of frustration clearly radiating off of him. You weren’t particularly curious about what specifically it was that he had failed to find, but there was still one question that you were curious to have answered. 

“So, since whatever your plan was clearly just failed, mind sharing why exactly you asked me to come down here with you?”

Jimin’s brother just stared at you, lips forming an unamused line. 

“I’m not stupid,” you pressed further, “you wouldn’t have brought me here if not for a reason. So just let it out, what did you want from me?”

A slight smirk twitched against his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest, “and they say I have trust issues…”

“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” You said incredulously, finding his growing grin wildly irritating, “fine, I guess I’ll just start guessing then.”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think it through.

“Ah, I know. You’re going to use me to fulfil your plan of becoming the most powerful magic user in the world with the help of Counterbalance,” then you added, “oh right! And also to kill your twin because you’re the neglected brother that never got as much love and attention as him. How close am I?”

Jimin’s brother could only try to stifle his amusement. 

“You’ve watched one too many fantasy movies, princess.”

“And what would I accomplish by murdering my brother?” He said while tilting his head, then he added sarcastically, “although, I have heard arms and legs sell for very high these days. How much do you think-”

The quip died on his tongue as the sound of a door opening suddenly reverberated around the room, freezing the two of you in place. Your gaze snapped to where the sound had come from, but you were just met with the wall of the cavern. 

“Wha-” You were about to ask, but Jimin’s brother grabbed your arm with a gloved hand and quickly dragged you behind the partition you had noticed from earlier. The two of you leaned against it, the most hidden you could be in this room. 

You peeked over his shoulder, still confused as to why noises were arising in the room when there was no one there, until the wall shimmered and distorted slightly to reveal a person walking through it. 

Your eyes widened in recognition. 

Ms. Kari?!

Ms. Kari, with her dirty blonde hair and wired glasses walked through the almost rotting black bark walls of the cavern like it was nothing, chatting intently with someone on the phone as she failed to notice the two of you. 

But didn’t Jimin’s twin say this place was abandoned decades ago? What was Ms. Kari doing in a Counterbalance lab?

You glance at Jimin’s brother for a moment, and it was clear that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Yes, yes, I’ve planned out the tasks,” Ms. Kari spoke into the black cellphone, “do you really believe me to be an incompetent teacher?”

You watched her walk deeper into the room, but, the more she did, the more Jimin’s brother had to step backwards to avoid being seen. That forced you to take a step back with him. 

“I’ll have them complete by tonight,” she went on, continuing to walk deeper into the room, “don’t worry, they’ll cover everything we need.”

Jimin’s brother took another step backwards, but there was nowhere for you to accommodate him. He had backed you into a wall, causing you to feel rough, black bark against your back while his clothed back was pressing against your chest. You stood caged between him and the cavern wall, simmering in anger at the unexpected position. If you didn’t like having to listen to men, then being touched by one was something you loathed to your core. 

But by then, thankfully, Ms. Kari had stopped walking further into the room, instead pausing in front of the large bookshelf. 

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodbye sir,” she said, before evidently hanging up.

After putting the phone away, she turned to the bookshelf, studying it intently.

“Hmmm, now where did I put it…?” She muttered.

You squirmed as Ms. Kari began searching through the bookshelves, clearly uncomfortable in your current position.

“Is it this one…?” She continued to mutter, picking up an old, brown textbook, “no… I need the whole layout, not just a section.”

Jimin’s brother frowned as he felt you moving behind him, wondering why you couldn’t just stay in one place. The more you moved, the more dangerous it was going to be for you. He blew out a quiet breath, itching to tell you to stop but unable to as Ms. Kari took a step closer to the partition.

You, on the other hand, had to force yourself not to shove him off of you. He had taken another step backwards as Ms. Kari took another oblivious step towards the partition, despite there being no space to do so. That left you even more squished against him.

It was driving you insane. 

You refused to be in this position anymore. You had to get him off of you. 

Jimin’s brother turned his head slightly, wondering if he could quietly step to the side a bit so you’d stop touching him. 

But then he flinched as he felt your hands brush against his back. 

You scowled as you felt him move against you once again. 

Okay, that’s it, you both thought furiously. 

“Stop touching me!” The two of you blew up at each other.

You froze, panic seeping into your mind as you realised just how screwed the two of you were now. Jimin’s brother was no different. His jaw hung open in shock before his head snapped to where Ms. Kari was. 

“What on Earth-?” She muttered, turning around. 

But before her gaze could land on either of you, Jimin’s brother instantly turned towards the partition and gave it a strong shove. You watched in horror as the solid partition toppled over, falling midair for not more than a second before it collapsed…

on Ms. Kari.

“Did you just push a whole partition on top of a professor?!” You whisper-yelled incredulously, your mouth hanging wide open in shock. 

But Jimin’s brother simply turned to you after making sure Ms. Kari was down and hadn’t seen the two of you, “quite whining, we need to get out of here before she sees us.”

His gloved hand grabbed your wrist before dragging you alongside him as he ran up the stairs. 

The two of you didn’t stop running until you had entered the residences, panting like crazy when he finally let your arm go. You and Jimin’s brother’s breaths filled the hallway for what felt like forever as you both desperately attempted to catch your breaths.

But once Jimin’s twin seemed to have achieved as much, he whirled to you in anger. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked, rage laced in his tone and expression. 

“Me?!” You said, indignant, “what did I do?”

“What did you do?! Next time you want to run your hands all over me, maybe try therapy instead?!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy that had his entire body pressed against mine. You couldn’t have moved a little?! Clearly personal space is a subject needed for your next therapy session!”

Jimin’s brother scoffed, “that’s what I was trying to do, but guess who’s hands made it impossible?”

“Maybe next time I will let you touch me,” he snapped, “then we’ll see just how much you enjoy what happened to you, princess.”

You immediately grimaced, his words feeling like a swarm of spiders crawling up and down your body. There it was. There was one of those disgusting sexual comments that men seemed to love to throw around carelessly.

“You’re disgusting,” you said, putting as much of your repulsion as you could in your words before scoffing, “and I’m leaving.”

You stormed into an elevator, immediately slamming your fingers against the button to your room's floor before repeatedly pressing against the button that would close the elevator doors. You wanted him nowhere near you. 

Jimin’s twin, on the other hand, stood for a moment, his expression a perfect picture of confusion as he stared at the now closed elevator doors. 

Disgusting…? He thought, wondering why you had seemed so repulsed by the comment. It took him a second more to come to the realisation, his lips pressing into a straight line as he did.

She must not know.

His gaze dropped to the floor, the dim hallway reflecting his mood suddenly. 

She must not know just how horrible my touch really is.

-

-

-

You flung the door of your dorm open, letting it slam shut behind you.

You couldn’t believe that bastard. Sure, this school was full of disgusting men like him that said stuff like that all the time, but still. How dare he talk to you that way?

You could feel the rage slither down your arms, making your hands shake. That kind of degradation always seemed to unlock a different kind of anger in you. One where you didn’t know whether you wanted to go back down there and make him beg for your forgiveness or go into a shower and aggressively scrub his words off your skin till it’s bright red and raw to the touch. 

You should’ve made him pay for a comment like that when you were down there. But you were also very much aware that you needed to leave in case Ms. Kari was searching the halls for the two of you. 

“Y/N!” A voice behind you suddenly called. You turned to find Jimin walking into the living room, a bright smile on his face.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I came back and you weren’t here… I was about to call the principal.”

For a moment, all you could do was just stand and stare at his face. You knew they were twins, but… him and his brother looked exactly identical. If Jimin were to dye his hair and wear contacts, you wouldn’t doubt for a second that it was his brother standing before you. 

What an unnerving thought.

“Why does it matter?” You finally asked, tearing yourself away from searching for some kind of non eye- or hair-related feature that could distinguish them apart. You were mildly aware that your anger from earlier was unintentionally seeping into your tone, “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. You don’t own me.”

But Jimin just smiled, “of course, we’re all adults here. I just meant that I was worried, that’s all.”

His smiles and concerns only seemed to add to the frustration that was building up in your chest. On one hand you had a twin telling you innuendos while on the other hand you had one giving you fake worry. You were tired of it. Tired of this entire day altogether. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announced, your tone suddenly soft from your exhaustion- both physically and mentally. 

You made your way to your bedroom door and paused for a moment, facing Jimin who was still standing in the living room, “and don’t bother getting worried every time I come back a little late. I can handle myself, as I’m sure Namjoon told you.”

Finally, you turned around and walked into your room, but not before Jimin called from behind you.

“You’re my roommate, of course I’m going to worry about you!”

-

-

-

“You can’t be serious!”

You stared at Principal Park with a scowl, wishing your glare could burn right through him, but he ignored it easily, choosing instead to sit composedly at his desk as he gave you a calm and collected expression. 

“I apologise Y/N, but even if I wished to I could not,” he explained slowly, as if you were some kind of wild animal that needed to be tamed. It made you want to wipe that calm expression off his meticulously kept face. 

“All I’m asking for is to be put into a different cohort, any other cohort. I can’t be in classes full of men, it’s… not… healthy for a young woman like me,” you said, words laced with a hint of desperation, “if anyone can do it, it’s you. That’s why I’m here.”

“Y/N,” he said, tilting his head in sympathy, “you of all people should know how important it is that you are educated suitably. Your classmates and yourself must learn differently compared to the rest of the students in this school. The success of our future depends on it.”

You stared at him helplessly, a mixture of rage and hopelessness churning uncomfortably in your stomach. 

“I understand that you wish to be in a cohort with individuals more similar to yourself, but in a way your current classmates are similar to you as well, don’t you think? You will be leading the future generations together after all. Perhaps this experience will prepare you for the relationships you will have with them once you take on your roles.”

“And besides,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already gotten the message loud and clear, “just because you are being placed into different cohorts, does not mean you are barred from befriending students in different cohorts. In fact, I encourage you to mingle with the other students of this academy.”

You watched Principal Park push himself into a standing position, giving you a bright smile that reminded you of Jimin’s, “now, I must attend a meeting at the moment. If you still wish to continue this conversation then we may schedule a meeting for another time, but I must reiterate that my answer will not change even then. Is that clear?”

Your jaw ticked as you chose to stay silent, knowing that saying what you really wanted to say to him would probably get you expelled. Instead, you levelled your tone before replying.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he nodded, “I hope you settle well here, your father and I are good friends. I genuinely do wish the best for you, Y/N.”

“Yes sir,” you forced out through gritted teeth. 

Once you were dismissed, you turned around and left his office, immediately entering into the main hall with your arms crossed over your chest. You didn’t know if it was his head you wanted to bash into the wall or your own. That would still be less painful than the years of suffering you were about to spend in this academy. 

You uncrossed your arms with a defeated sigh, choosing instead to shift your focus on the empty hall in front of you. It was too early for students to be wandering the area at this hour. Most were still in the dining hall eating breakfast and conversing with friends. Your conversation with Principal Park had effectively wiped your appetite, and you didn’t have any friends that you could hang out with anyway, so you let yourself enjoy the view of the Tree of Life instead. 

There was something calming about looking at the Tree. You didn’t know whether it was an effect of the Life magic coursing through its branches or just the beauty of it in general. The sunlight flitted through the stained glass ceiling to fall on its soft petals, making them glow light colours of blues and pinks. Even its trunk was a proud chestnut, a stark contrast from all the dark mahogany scattered around the walls and ceiling of the hall. 

You gravitated towards the towering structure in awe, choosing to settle onto the stone barrier encompassing its base. They’d made the barrier just perfect for students to sit on and relax, and you couldn’t help but feel that this was a better spot for relaxation than any library or dining hall in the academy. 

But your reverie was interrupted when the double doors of the main hall suddenly burst open. Your gaze snapped to the doors to your left, watching them shake as the doors slammed against the wall behind them. From here you could see the dining hall containing a bunch of students all gasping and speaking frenziedly with each other in hushed tones. 

The reason the doors had opened seemed to be a male student, who was stumbling into the main hall after shoving through the double doors weakly. You scanned him in surprise as he continued to stumble further into the hall until he tripped on his own feet and collapsed to his knees. 

He looked like he had been beaten pretty badly as a bruise encompassed the right side of his jaw and a painful groan escaped his lips. You tried to figure out who he was, but you couldn’t seem to make out the entirety of his face.

You stood up abruptly, eyes widening at the scene before you in confusion.

What was going on?

#Kim Seokjin #Kim Namjoon #Min Yoongi #Jung Hoseok #Park Jimin #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook #Jin #RM #JHope #Suga #Jimin #V #Jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts series #bts #bts au #bts magic au #magic au #jin x reader #namjoon x reader #suga x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts x reader

[threeletterslife]

33 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, depictions of violence

⨰ wordcount: 6.9k

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⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

That night, Instructor Shin came to you in your dreams—quite vividly too, for your dream worlds have always been picturesque.

She was staring at you with her sharp eyes, but her gaze was strangely gentle. It felt so real—especially as she held her black pointer bedazzled with her emerald birthstone, which twinkled in white light. May you one day change Darlae for the better, she whispered, her ruby-red lips moving just enough to enunciate her words.

You tossed and turned in your sleep.

She smiled at you—it was one of her rare smiles that brought slight wrinkles upon her face, but it made her look incredibly kind. And may you one day still remember me, your strict, old, incompetent instructor, who nearly stopped you from achieving greatness in the Darlaean Army.

When you woke up at the break of dawn, there were dried tear streaks on your face and a new fire burning inside of you. You’d forgotten your dream for a moment—amongst all of the fuss with the rankings and the training and the duels. Your life had picked up its pace and while living in survival mode, you’d simply unremembered what made you join the Darlaean Army in the first place. But Instructor Shin’s words reignited what you lost.

She believed in you and so did Hajin, her father, and even General Son, who was willing to give you a second chance. So how could you so easily give up on your dream? How silly of you to simply let go of all the efforts you’ve put into your training! General Son was right; there was no place for cowardliness in his army. Heroes got nowhere from fear!

But perhaps you could compromise. Sometimes, fear drove people to do great things; you couldn’t exactly think of any examples, but maybe you could be the first instance. Maybe you could leverage your fears—your fear of hurting others, your fear of getting hurt yourself, your fear of dying unaccomplished, your fear of losing the life you’d built for yourself in the 12th city—to drive yourself to stay in General Son’s army.

You gritted your teeth. You had exactly three days to pull yourself together and rise from the deep end, so you decided to put yourself through hell to prepare.

The only problem was, fear was a damn hard thing to shake off.

“Okay, okay, that was good, Y/N,” Hajin said, nodding her head as you masked a flower petal into a pebble and threw it hard at the wooden dummy before you. “But it was a pebble, Y/N. No one in their right damn mind would surrender to a tiny piece of rock.” She hummed, circling around you in the small practice arena. “It was an improvement, though.” She sighed. “Try to think bigger. Think, what is a showstopper?”

You nervously tugged at your necklace. The dirt arena was littered with harmless objects that were standard when it came to these duels. Cadets were expected to use alchemy to create non-lethal weapons to force their opponents to surrender. But to you, the term non-lethal truly meant something that couldn’t harm anyone. “I’m sorry,” you sighed, wiping the sweat off your brow. “It’s just… if I turned that pebble any bigger… I mean, what if I accidentally give my opponent a concussion?”

Hajin snorted. “It happens. They shouldn’t take it personally. And if they do, it’s on them. You’re dueling! Something like that is expected to happen! Look, I gave someone a black eye last week, but they healed it in several days! So don’t worry too much about hurting someone.”

You bit your lip. It was much easier said than done. You wished with all your heart that you could stop giving a shit about hurting your opponent, but there was always a degree of unpredictability in these duels—you never knew what arbitrary objects would be placed in the arena and you never knew who your opponent was until the duel began. What if something happened and you seriously injured them? What if something happened and you were seriously injured? It was such a selfish thought to have, and you hated yourself for it.

The truth was, there were soldiers out there, sacrificing their lives for Darlae and here you were, unable to participate properly in a small duel. On the battlefield, no arbitrary objects were littered on the ground for Darlaean soldiers’ ease of use. On the battlefield, Darlaean soldiers survived on pure instinct and adrenaline—at least that was what was rumored amongst your squadron, for no cadet truly knew what a soldier went through when they marched to battle. On the battlefield, it was kill or be killed.

But this wasn’t the battlefield, thank Guseul, it was a damn little arena. You weren’t expected to kill anyone, and now that you thought about it, your primary goal technically wasn’t to injure. In fact, your real goal was to make your opponent surrender.

“Look,” Hajin said, breaking you out of your thoughts, “you need to win this damn duel because I’m not letting my best friend leave me. So, you’re going to take this very, very seriously, all right? It’s just like when you taught me alchemy, Y/N. You told me to stay true to myself when I cast my whims. You let me continue to use light magic; you honed my strengths. You made me embrace them. So do the same!” She grinned. “What kind of alchemy are you best at? What can you use to make your opponent surrender? Surely, masking some rose petal into a pebble isn’t the best you’ve got. You’ve ranked first amongst 100 cadets before! You have it in you, Y/N!”

Hajin’s words of encouragement made you feel a little better. 

“You’re the masking master!” Hajin cheered you on. “You can mask everything into anything!!!”

That wasn’t exactly true as of yet, but you were trying to get there anyway.

You smiled, a new idea suddenly materializing in your head. “Thanks, Hajin. You’re the best.”

She grinned. “Now get to work, cadet! Time’s ticking!”

The sunlight was too bright. The dirt was too loose. And there were one too many spectators. You could feel their gazes, boring into your back, and in that moment, you felt so small, so tiny, so insignificant. Your hands were shaking, and you hoped no one was observant enough to notice.

“YOU CAN DO IT, Y/N!” Hajin yelled from the crowd. You couldn’t find the energy to smile, but her words did ease off a little bit of the tension. Still, your heart felt like it was in your guts, and you could barely see past arm’s length.

You clutched your trinket, trying to feel the magic course through your veins and calm your nerves. While taking deep breaths, you carefully surveyed the objects scattered around in today’s arena. There were cotton balls, a few towels, a roll of gauze, an apricot seed, a mug from the dining hall, and what looked to be someone’s lost sock to name a few. You looked away from these objects, not even bothering to study them at all.

Instead, you looked ahead to study your opponent, who was all the way on the other side of the arena. Unlike you, she didn’t seem too nervous at all, which made sense since rumor had caught on that you automatically surrendered every duel you were put into. For a second, you felt a little guilty that that wouldn’t be the case today—that was, if you were able to pull off what you spent countless hours practicing. Your opponent—Eunhae was her name—began studying the objects on the ground, which made you sweat just a little more. She was ranked fairly high—somewhere amongst the top 20 cadets—so you knew she wouldn’t surrender so easily. You could practically see her already calculating what to shift and what to mask.

Nervously, you looked to the stands, glancing momentarily at General Son. He rarely came to these duels—his officers were the ones who usually supervised them—but he was undoubtedly here for you today. Even worse, the man was staring straight at you, your eyes making contact with his sharp ones. You jumped a little and looked away. 

For a split second, you wondered if this was all a good idea.

But there was no time to second guess yourself. 

A vivid purple streak shot up in the bright noon sky, courtesy of one of the judging officers.

The duel had officially begun.

Your ears began to ring. 

Eunhae charged at you, her long, brown hair flying behind her. She had her teeth gritted, her fists clenched. 

But everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. 

You watched as Eunhae laggardly crouched down, carefully picked up the mug from the dining hall, then gradually size-shifted it, where it became the size of her head. Your eyes widened slowly as she sluggishly heaved the giant mug at you with all of her might.

Your breath hitched.

Then all at once, everything was moving too fast.

Every bone, muscle, nerve in your body screamed at you to surrender, to make it stop, to feel that sweet sense of relief and comfort that you were going to be safe. Instead, somehow, somewhere, something in you made you jerk away, and just in the nick of time, you managed to dodge the attack as the mug crashed into the arena’s walls behind you. 

There was an ear-splitting crack!

You felt like you were going to throw up.

Eunhae picked up one of the gauzes. 

You were stumbling away, attempting to avoid being cornered, but your feet felt so heavy; were you imagining it, or were your black leather boots sinking into the dirt? When you looked up from your daze, you saw an arrow—where the spearhead was the harmless white gauze—spiraling straight at you. 

You frowned.

Eunhae cursed under her breath.

Failed masking happened rather often during duels when the stress levels were high. You let the gauze-arrow hit you on the arm, trying not to expend energy unnecessarily. While trembling, you rubbed the impact area with your hand, not because it hurt, but as if to calm your nerves. It wasn’t exactly working.

Somehow, you were already panting. The breathing echoed in your ears in slow, loud huffs. A single drop of sweat rolled down your face, over the hill of your cheeks and down the slope of your chin.

It felt like you were running out of time.

Any minute now, after she recovered from the shock of her failed masking, Eunhae was bound to attack again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up—stamina wasn’t your greatest strength, but it was definitely hers.

Your trembling hand reached up to clench the pendant of your necklace.

Immediately, just a tiny bit of courage flooded back into you.

Right. 

The plan. 

The plan that you weren’t so sure was allowed.

But you didn’t exactly have many options now that you were already here.

Focus, now…

Deep breaths in, deep breaths out…

And soon, the world fell silent, save for the loud beating of your heart.

The only thing in your vision now was Eunhae, running towards you in slow motion once more. Her face was contorted, and there was sweat beading on her forehead. She was already holding a new object—ready to attack you with it—but that didn’t matter to you at the moment. She was so close to you now that you could see the splash of freckles across her nose. Her lips were parted, and her dark eyes seemed to see no one but you.

But more importantly, she wore the standard cadet uniform—the black, stiff cotton material, the silver and purple stitchings, the shiny leather boots. It was identical to yours and that of the 70 other cadets left in the program. It was the uniform you saw every day, the uniform you hand-washed, the uniform you folded, ironed, and donned each morning. You spent more time in your uniform than not; thus, you knew every stitch, every crease, every stretch of the fabric like it was on the back of your hand. You could recreate the uniform from memory if you wanted to—even with brand-new material: velvet, corduroy, wool… It wouldn’t be so challenging, considering how well-versed you were in designing apparel.

Perhaps you could even recreate it with more untraditional fabrics like chenille, taffeta, or brocade.

Or what about with outrageous material like rubber? Wood? Perhaps stone? 

Yes, stone—that was perfect! You could practically feel the cool, hard sleeves, the stiff body of the uniform, the heavy boots… The smoothness, the dark gray color, the sheer heaviness… Yes, that charcoal color would suit Eunhae quite nicely—possibly bringing out her freckles. Gone would be the cotton and the silver purple stitchings, and gone would be the leather on the boots, too. Everything would be stone.

Dense, immovable stone.

Somewhere along your vivid train of thought, you must’ve closed your eyes—it happened often when you were attempting to mask something big. There was that familiar migraine seeping in, too. When your eyes finally fluttered open, relieving yourself from the darkness, you came nearly face to face with Eunhae. Her eyebrows were deeply furrowed, and her teeth were gritted in concentration. Her forehead was now wet with perspiration. And her eyes, they were screaming with what looked like anger.

You let out a tiny squeak, your whole body tensing up as you squeezed your eyes shut again—too afraid to face your impending doom. You waited for the blow to come, to feel some sort of pain in your side, but when nothing happened after several seconds, you slowly opened one eye, then the other.

Less than an arm’s length away from you, Eunhae was wobbling from side to side, on the verge of losing her balance. She grunted, her face completely red as she struggled with the new weight of her uniform. The sweat from her forehead began rolling down her face.

Your lips parted in shock.

“Y-You!” Eunhae stuttered, trying to move forward, but when that proved to be futile, she tried another tactic. With all of her might, and with a mighty scream, she swung her arm at you. You flinched on instinct, but her arm fell limp before ever reaching you from being encompassed in a stone sleeve. Eunhae was struggling to keep her arm up—she was trembling from head to toe—and she was successful for perhaps half a minute before her whole body collapsed onto the ground.

With a loud groan, she heaved her body forward, straining her muscles in an attempt to move, but she could barely keep her head lifted from the ground. Her face was growing near purple now as her stone uniform kept her pinned to the ground. Sweat continued to roll off of her body, streaking the gray stone with a darker charcoal color. 

You watched her struggle, which felt so incredibly wrong, but there was nothing else you could do. You would lose everything if you lost—you had to make sure you walked away victorious. So you stood your ground before the poor girl, staring down, shaking in your uniform boots.

Sweat rolled down your neck, disappearing underneath your cotton uniform. The masking had to hold until Eunhae surrendered. It was all you needed to win. You couldn’t bear looking her in the eyes, so you closed your own, your fists clenched at your sides.

“You can’t keep me like this forever!” Eunhae shouted, but she sounded desperate. 

For a second, you feared that she would somehow be able to unmask her uniform material back into cotton, but the logical part of you countered that with a simple fact: Eunhae was an expert at size-shifting, not so much masking. But, if she just so happened to be angry enough to unleash powerful light magic, that would also be a different story.

Nervously, you cracked open one eye, wondering if this was even enough to stop a cadet like Eunhae. There was unbridled rage in her eyes as she lay on the ground, unable to move. But the longer you stared at her, the look gradually morphed into one of capitulation.

Finally, Eunhae let out a long, labored sigh. “I’ll give you this one, then.” She was completely limp. “You win. I surrender. Now get me out of this thing!”

You collapsed to the ground in shock, and it was your loss of concentration—not quite exactly her request—that unmasked Eunhae’s uniform. As the stone eroded away and the familiar cotton material faded into existence, you stared at the dirt, unblinking. Grumbling, Eunhae sat up, stretching her limbs and brushing herself off while looking quite disdained at her loss.

There was an eerie silence.

Normally, there would be clapping by now.

Now you were shaking, though you didn’t know why, and suddenly, it felt like you were the one donning the stone uniform. You could hear your breathing echoing in your head, and your legs refused to listen to you anymore. It was as if all of the energy in your body had been zapped away.

Were you allowed to do this? Was masking your opponent’s uniform on the grounds for disqualification? Is that why everybody was so silent?

But then, you heard a joyous cry from the audience.

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU WON!”

It was Hajin—bless her—and in no time, others followed the princess’ lead. Your victory was welcomed with a roar of applause. The world began spinning. You were still shaking, but when you turned slightly to the side, you saw General Son, standing up with the rest of the audience, clapping for you. He wasn’t smiling, because he never smiled, but he was nodding in approval, and that was all you needed for all of your worries to wash away.

You were safe.

You could stay here.

Who knew that the Fashion Studies class you took years ago would be so useful in the army? From your first victorious duel, you learned that you didn’t have to resort to violence if you didn’t want to. There were definitely officers who didn’t approve of that notion, but they couldn’t do anything about it since General Son never found it wrong, though he did later admit it was unorthodox. 

Still, he confirmed that you were no longer on probation, and with the momentum of your first victory, you went on to win a majority of the rest of your duels. As a year flew past, your ranking gradually, gradually increased until one day, your name was next to that shiny, silver number 1 once more. But you never really gave two shits about the rankings. In your mind, this was all for a bigger cause—the cause of one day changing Darlae for the better. The change that Instructor Shin believed you could make.

But you did have to admit, though a bit begrudgingly, that it always felt good when your opponent would take one look at you from across the arena and surrender right away. You didn’t let those instances get to your head, though; you worked hard, just like everybody else. If it just so happened that your masking skills were more advanced and your hexes were mostly successful, then that was that. There was no need to make a big deal out of it. But Hajin always liked to, anyways.

She was your biggest supporter, attending every one of your duels and cheering you on the whole time. As more circas passed, she grew into her light magic, and though she still occasionally cast an unpredictable whim, she was a much stronger alchemist than before. Her father was proud of her as any father would be, but he was just as proud of you, who he practically took under his wing as his second daughter.

And then there was General Son. He was always watching you with those sharp eyes of his, not saying much in both words and expression. But you knew he had a lot of thoughts—whether they were good thoughts or bad thoughts, you were never too sure. Still, he seemed satisfied with your performance in his army, and you liked to imagine that he looked mildly pleased every time you saluted him when he walked past.

Just like that, your life as a cadet in the Darlaean Army became routine once more, with the occasional ups and downs, but nothing life-changing. And before you knew it, you were already 17.

Hajin slumped over her bed in a deep pout. “I can’t believe he’s making us wait another two years, Y/N. Two! I swear on Guseul’s heart that I’m going to die waiting for the day we can finally go to battle!”

“Your father’s just trying to protect you,” you said, patting Hajin’s shoulder. “You’re his only daughter. Also his last living family member.” 

Hajin let out a loud sigh. “Everyone else in our cohort has already been moved to the 1st city!” She groaned, hiding her face in her silk pillowcase. “We’ll be the oldest ones in the new cohort! It’s going to be so embarrassing!” She suddenly sat up, turning to face you. “This isn’t fair! We were ranked in the top ten!”

“I know, I know,” you said, patting Hajin’s back. “It sucks, but I mean, we’ll be able to explore the tunnels for two more years, isn’t that the good part? Why do you want to go to battle so much, anyways?” You didn’t mean to sound so exasperated when you asked the latter question because you knew full well what Hajin was going to say. But before you could open your mouth to apologize, Hajin was already speaking.

“I just need to avenge my mother’s death!” she announced valiantly as predicted. She sighed, looking out the window, where the dim moonlight filtered in. “That’s all I want. I just need to be out there and fight the same bastards who killed her.” Her voice grew quiet, which happened quite rarely and only when she was dead serious, which was also a rarity. “You didn’t have to stay with me, you know, stuck in this damn training program. You finished first in our cohort; you should’ve graduated and marched on to the 1st city.”

The truth was, Hoseok had invited you to another private chat in which he’d given you a few options. One of them was, of course, graduating from the training program for adolescents and moving on to becoming a true soldier who would march to battle. But the other choice, the one that Hoseok wanted you to choose, was to stay in the 12th city with his daughter before he finally deemed her ready to leave the royal nest. 

“She still casts unpredictable whims from time to time,” was his biggest worry. “She must be absolutely formidable before I let her on that battlefield.” You knew it would break Hajin’s heart if she found out her father withheld her from graduating due to her erratic alchemy skills—when those who were far worse than she had already graduated—so you never mentioned it to her. The plan, if you stayed, would be to help train Hajin’s light magic skills until her alchemy was sound, and that would all be under the guise of her father’s protectiveness over his only daughter, which was also true. 

“But I don’t want to hold you back either, my dear. I don’t want to withhold such a promising soldier from my nation; General Son tells me he sees the future in you. But ultimately, my dear, the choice is yours.”

And you’d chosen to stay. Mostly because the prospect of going to battle terrified you, though you never admitted that to anyone—not even Hajin. It was too humiliating. But another part of you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Hajin, of leaving her father, of leaving the secret tunnels, too. It would be like entering a new chapter of your life, which wasn’t always the worst thing that could happen. But you simply didn’t feel ready. What good was an unprepared hero, anyway?

You sighed, staring outside at the moon along with Hajin. “Well, I wasn’t going to leave you here. And besides,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips, “we can eat all the deviled eggs we want for two more years. Isn’t that paradise?”

Hajin didn’t laugh at your joke; she was too lost in her thoughts, which was something that you usually did and not the other way around. Then, she spoke in a quiet murmur: “Y/N, why do you want to fight in the war?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean, um… it’s…” You sighed, not having expected Hajin to ask such a question. “It’s going to sound silly.”

Hajin finally turned to you, and it looked like she was finally back to her old self because she was grinning madly. “Try me,” she snorted. “How silly can it really be?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “Okay, fine. Ever since I was little, I’ve always wanted to be some sort of hero. I guess I just read too many fairytales, but that’s beside the point. I want to accomplish something big, you know? Make a difference. I dunno. How cool would it be if I could contribute even just a little bit to Darlae’s freedom from the war?” You tugged on your necklace. “It’s stupid, I know. Your reason is much cooler—”

“No way!” Hajin’s eyes widened. “Your reason is so… mature. It’s high level, you know? Above seeking vengeance and all that crap. Oh, Y/N,” she laughed. “You could definitely do it. You’ve already made a difference in my life! I just know you’re going to do something great. Oh, I know! You’ll become an officer—I don’t need to be a divinist to know that!” 

You laughed along with her. “Aw, thanks, Hajin. I wouldn’t say it’s a mature reason—I mean, I’m 17 and I’m still dreaming of heroes. But thanks. Really. That was kind of you to say.” You nudged her playfully. “You’re more officer material than I am. You’ve got the energy and charisma. You’re a people magnet!”

Hajin beamed. “You really think so?” She plopped back down on her bed, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to my father, will you? Then maybe he’ll let us go to war.”

You laughed, plopping down on the bed right next to your best friend. “I don’t think he’ll budge.”

“Bummer,” Hajin sighed. “Whatever.” Then, she turned to her side, grinning at you mischievously. “Wanna have a late-night deviled egg party?”

You would be crazy to resist.

Even though you and Hajin weren’t technically allowed in the 1st city as both of you were still cadets in the training program, that never stopped the two of you from simply using the secret tunnels to infiltrate the 1st city’s sewers. But all there was to see in the 1st city was soldiers training. Though you found it fascinating, Hajin found it boring.

“What’s so fun about watching a bunch of soldiers train?” Hajin sighed. “We see that in the training grounds all the time.”

“No, but they train so differently,” you answered, your voice tinged with excitement. “Look! They don’t do the stupid duels at all. They’re focusing on masking scraps of junk into weapons! See how that soldier just masked that blade of grass into a dagger? See how it pierced through the wooden block without unmasking itself? Amazing,” you breathed. “That’s not easy to do.”

“I’d rather watch a duel. They’re more exciting,” Hajin snorted. “Come on, let’s get back to the 12th city before anyone finds out we left.”

“W-Wait!” you said, eyes widening. “Look! We can’t miss this—they’re practicing formations! See how impenetrable it looks? It’s a formation meant for defense! And see how perfectly identical every soldier’s stance is? That must take hours and hours of practice!”

Hajin just laughed. “Only you could be so excited by army formations,” she teased.

But it wasn’t just you.

General Son also had a penchant for formations, which he made obvious to you after he caught you and Hajin snooping around the 1st city. He wasn’t angry, only stern, but when he found out that you had been drawing out his army’s formations and studying them on your own, he invited you to his study in the 12th city to “discuss”—though what about, you weren’t quite sure. But the invitation, of course, only came after you and Hajin ran a couple of laps around the training grounds for breaking regulations—it was only a formality.

The discussion ended up being hours long and was more like a lecture than anything else. The General asked you to explain what you had gleaned from snooping around the 1st city and observing the different formations, and though you were nervous, you were able to explain each one and the purpose you believed it had. He had no discernible expression on his face when you finished, but you must’ve done something right because he began to spread out a few of his own battle plans, which were a work in progress.

“See this, cadet?” he asked, running his fingers through the five obvious sectors drawn into the paper in black ink. “This is the battlefield. Memorize it by next time,” he said. “A good soldier must know the terrain she fights on.” 

The mention of a next time filled you full of excitement, and you spent the following several days thinking about nothing but the battlefield. You woke up in the morning and stared at the copy of it that the General had given you. During your training—which was now too easy for you—you tried to draw it from memory in your mind. And at night, you dreamed of it—the five sectors, the soil, the hard dirt, and the soldiers charging through it.

General Son didn’t show much of a reaction when you completely redrew the battlefield from memory during your next “discussion.” But the more time you spent under his guidance, you realized that he had particular ways of showing his praise. When he deemed you ready, he simply moved on to the next thing he wanted you to learn. He pushed you harder than any other person in your life—nearly rivaling your own spirit—always sending you back from his study with a stack of books to read for the next discussion, along with formations to review and comment on. You spent your days training—though you always finished early—and your nights studying battle plans and formations.

Hajin found it tedious.

“You look like you’re having fun,” she snorted, staring at you hunched over, studying your books in the moonlight streaming through her large window. She shuddered. “On second thought, I don’t think I could ever become an officer. I can’t handle the logistics! I would never want to spend my free time studying battle plans and doing extra reading. But you’re fit for the job, Y/N. I think General Son thinks so too.”

You didn’t want to believe that at first. It seemed impossible to you that the General of the Darlaean Army could ever see someone like you as an officer. You weren’t even sure if you could handle it! What kind of officer was afraid of going to battle? What good was knowing the battlefield like the back of your hand if you were too afraid to fight? 

Despite your doubts, the General believed in you—at least it seemed like he did. He began granting you special access to the 1st city to observe the soldiers’ training. He also invited Hajin as a formality, for she was also a well-respected cadet yet to graduate from the training program, but she declined. “I’d rather give up a week’s worth of deviled eggs than go sit and watch soldiers train for what feels like an eternity!” she told you quite vehemently.

So, by yourself, you diligently traveled to the 1st city once a week to study the applications of the formations you’ve read about and to learn about the different charms that the soldiers used. Most of these charms were cast as whims because in a battle, where anger and passion drenched the air, light magic became much more powerful. It was still difficult for you to get rid of that scholarly instinct of using dark magic, and since the General never commented on your tendency for casting hexes, you continued to use the magic that brought comfort to you.

Sometimes, you wondered what the General saw in you to privately teach you the ways of battle planning. You often wondered if you deserved the treatment. Hajin was aware of your self-doubting tendencies, and she was always kind enough to point out that you were, indeed, a talented cadet, and you have been, for circas now, ranked first on the board—that the newer cadets feared dueling with you because you never lost. 

But you weren’t as charismatic as the majors, captains, sergeants and privates you observed in the 1st city. And you sure as hell would never be as charismatic as the General. There was something about him that elicited fear and respect. He never had to raise his voice; just one look from him and he could have even the strongest soldiers cowering. He was brutal out on the battlefield, you’ve heard. Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.

Of course you knew not to compare yourself to the damn General of the Darlaean Army, but self-doubt was in your nature. Still, your fear of disappointing the General was somehow greater than your self-doubting tendencies. You continued to make an effort in your private discussions and visited the 1st city with a fiery passion in your eyes, ready to commit everything you saw into memory. 

And slowly, as you began to catch up to his expectations, General Son became just slightly amiable. He no longer watched you with his sharp, discerning eyes, and he gave you short, laconic compliments when you deserved them. You had the feeling that he was warming up to you. Perhaps he wasn’t sure if he could trust you before, especially with the stunt you pulled when you had refused to participate in duels.

He asked you quite often about Hajin and her progress with her light magic, which you suspected Hoseok put him up to. It was no secret that General Son and Hoseok were quite close. You’ve heard them call each other by their first names, which was shocking considering one was the king and the other was the general of the nation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anybody else refer to General Son as Taegi except Hoseok.

Though General Son didn’t exactly show you the same kind of warmth that Hoseok did, he showed you generosity and patience. The discussions no longer felt like lectures; they were truly discussions—an exchange of ideas and feedback. Sometimes, General Son invited over a few of his majors to participate, which made you incredibly nervous, but every time self-doubt sank in, you reminded yourself of Instructor Shin’s words: may you one day change Darlae for the better. You were going to do it—someday in the future. This was simply your journey of mentorship and preparation.

It became increasingly clear that General Son trusted your opinions, and you naturally trusted him, for he commanded the entire army with a steady hand. Gradually, things fell into a routine again. You still had your moments of diffidence, of course, but that was part of the routine, too. And soon, before you knew it, seasons passed until the leaves of the trees reddened and the weather became chillier.

You would never forget this particular day in Circa Opal. The day that altered the routine of your life.

You were walking back to the castle from a long discussion with General Son. In your uniform pocket was the smaller, size-shifted stack of books he’d assigned you to read and the shrunken scrolls he wanted you to annotate. The air was brisk and the sun was setting, which were all the more reasons for you to quicken your pace as you promised to meet Hajin for another one of your secret tunnel exploring rounds, which had become rare with your busy schedule. The plan was to explore Hajin’s favorite: the 6th city. She was undoubtedly already waiting for you, wearing her purple pantaloons that you’d gifted her two years ago—her “exploring pants” as she called them. You could just imagine her pacing around her room impatiently, wondering “Where the hell is she???”

You smiled to yourself, practically running now to get to the castle faster. The red leaves made a satisfying crunch underneath your feet as you sprinted. But in your haste, you bumped into someone nearby and the force of the collision caused both of you to fall to the ground. 

You felt a dull impact on your behind and winced, but you’ve been through worse during training. Luckily, your miniature textbook and scrolls didn’t fall out of your pocket, which was a better outcome than what you would’ve hoped. But the stranger—the boy—whom you’d bumped into wasn’t so fortunate. He’d been carrying a large bag of what seemed to be filled with all sorts of equipment, which dropped to the ground from the impact and landed with a raucous crash! At the same time, a twinkling blue stone slipped from his pocket and landed on top of a few fallen leaves on the grass.

“O-Oh! I’m so, so sorry,” you said, quickly scrambling to pick up the sapphire from the ground and wiping it clean from the dried leaf debris. “I wasn’t looking where I was going! Here, you dropped your birthst—” 

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his. The rest of your words became lost in your throat.

He was beautiful.

As the two of you slowly stood up together, you couldn’t help but notice his big, doe eyes, perfect nose, gently tousled hair, delicate, pinkish lips… The warm glow of the setting sun backlit his face, softening his features, and the mild autumn breeze mussed his raven-colored hair, where strands of it fell over his dark brown eyes.

Time slowed down as he reached out to take his birthstone from you. And when his hands brushed yours, there was a shy spark that ignited in your chest. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him in shock. 

His own tender eyes met yours, and he blinked slowly, his lashes long enough to kiss his face. It was as if you were in a trance. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. His voice was quiet, silvery, perfect as you would expect from someone like him.

Your lips parted as you readied yourself to respond, but no words fell from your lips.

Who was he? Why haven’t you seen him before?

He surely wasn’t a soldier, for he wasn’t wearing the uniform, which meant he most likely worked for the royal family or perhaps even for the army. He looked too kind to be a soldier, anyway. 

A soft splash of rosy pink emerged on his cheeks as the two of you continued to peer into each other’s eyes. His hands began fidgeting with his birthstone. “You…” he said, face brightening in recognition. “You…” he whispered again, eyes softening.

Did he know you?

You surely didn’t know him; you would’ve remembered if you did.

“You…?” you barely managed to get out when the boy suddenly picked up the bag he dropped from the ground and began stepping backwards, though slowly.

You wanted to tell him to wait, to at least ask for his name, but how could you? He was already walking away from you. Maybe something about this encounter terrified him. It was rather odd. He was a complete stranger, but he strangely felt like comfort. There was this foreign tug on your heartstrings—a fleeting feeling that maybe you will get to know him in the near future. Did he feel this too? Was that why he left? 

You couldn’t help but watch him walk away, your head tilting as you stared at his back. It was stupid to think such a short encounter could blossom into something more. But…

No. Nothing was going to happen. This fate-like encounter was nothing more than a figment of your imagination—perhaps it was acting up after all of those tales of romance you read when you were young. Perhaps the boy left because there was nothing to stay for. With a sigh, you turned around and began walking away, towards the grand castle and to Hajin, who was undoubtedly waiting for your arrival.

But unbeknownst to you, soon after you turned around, the boy stopped in his footsteps to watch you leave. He had a bright look in his eyes, a look of mostly curiosity, really, but there was another thing. A look of longing. It was gone in a second, however, when he finally blinked. Then, he began walking away too, as if the encounter had never happened at all in the early days of Circa Opal.

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⨰ a/n: sorry for the short delay! had to attempt to proofread :') but hehe we finally get to meet jk!!!

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[def-initely-soul]

Burn The Witch {5}

pairing:  yoongi x reader (f.)

genre: supernatural; angst; mystery; magical society AU; magicals!AU

rating: PG-15

warnings: violence; emotional abuse; blood; bullying; mentions of murder; mature language; sexual themes

words: 4.2k

summary:

↠ {a boy who keeps running away, a girl who can’t seem to no matter how much she tries and a series of murders caught all in between of the cracks spread through what appears as a quiet little town…} ↞

or alternatively, not everything is always what it seems

previous part: {4}

.

.

It’s another few days before you move on with your plan. 

It’s already weird enough to visit Xefoto’s only club on a Tuesday night, even more so when you and Yoongi aren’t even remotely dressed for the occasion. 

This is the place Dean usually hangs around and strikes his “business deals”, so you’re bound to run into him here tonight. Eventually. 

As to how you know this is Dean’s spot... well, that’s another story. 

“Okay, it’s been more than an hour and a half and still no sign of this... “Dean” guy. Just say you wanted to take me out for a drink and be done with it!” Yoongi’s eyes are full of mirth, as he rests sideways at the bar.  

You turn on your stool to face him. “I told you, he’s really discreet about these things, you can’t just expect him to barge in and start asking around if someone wants to cut a deal with him,” you explain, ignoring his teasing attempt, before your eyes scan the room for the millionth time. “We got to wait, make sure he’s up for a conversation.” 

Yoongi’s chill demeanour dissipates, and he groans, leaning his upper body on the bar. “And how legit is this... werewolf guy?” he utters the word with great difficulty, and you can’t help but look at him disapprovingly. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those vampires that still believe in that “mortal enemies” bullshit...”  Yoongi groans at the obvious disdain in your voice. 

“Well, no but still... they’re werewolves,” he continues, though his voice contains significantly less confidence than before. 

“So?” you raise an eyebrow. 

“So, they’re beasts,” he shrugs his shoulders, turning his gaze away in what seems like an avoidance tactic, but you have none of it. 

“Once a month,” you observe, and Yoongi rolls his eyes at your persistence to not drop the subject. 

“Still, they’re dangerous...” 

“To whom? Humans? In that case we’re all dangerous to humans,” you retaliate, taking a sip from your drink, and Yoongi presses his lips in a thin line, clearly not having put that much thought to it before. 

“Yes, but none of us loses control like werewolves do. You must admit, a werewolf out of control isn’t just dangerous to humans but to magicals too...” he casts a glance your way, certain that would be the thing that makes you reconsider but you shake your head. 

“Are you telling me that when a vampire goes into bloodlust he’s not as dangerous and catastrophic to humans and magicals?” you answer back defiantly and Yoongi groans tiredly. 

“Oh, come on that’s different... A vampire going into bloodlust isn’t happening every month...” he explains, rubbing the base of his taut neck and you have to remind yourself to redirect your gaze. 

“No, it may not, but it’s effects are just as severe, or worse, than a werewolf transforming. Plus, werewolves know their transformation is coming so they take the appropriate measures each full moon, to not harm anyone. Can you say the same for vampires going into bloodlust?” you reply calmly and when his eyes widen, you know you have him. 

“I... No, I can’t, but still, it’s not the same...” he struggles to justify his reasoning but even in his ears, his retaliation is weak. 

“Why? Because one doesn’t get a say in their transformation while the other feeds on human blood to survive? That analogy isn’t doing your species any justice now, is it?” this time your words leave him shocked and confused, failing to give you an answer.  

Something finally shifts in his gaze, and you wonder if you managed to at least make him see things from a different point of view. 

Yoongi swallows, still taken aback before he turns to face the bar and takes a sip from his drink. You watch with mild interest as he seems to ponder over your words, eyebrows knitted together, surely struggling to digest something himself mustn’t have thought of before. 

“I...” he begins, his eyes stuck at the bottom of his glass, “I guess I’ve never thought about it like that... Wow, I sound like a douchebag,” he chuckles in disbelief at the end, his voice lowered in contemplation and almost shame. You didn’t expect him to change his mind immediately of course, but the fact that he even accepted your words for what they are, says an awful lot about his character. People tend to deny whatever doesn’t agree with their beliefs. He didn’t. 

Which makes you want to know more about him. As if you didn’t already. 

“You do...” you agree calmly, and he looks at you stunned for a moment. Before he sighs and turns to look at his drink with barely concealed disappointment. 

“But” you startle him once more, and his eyes find you again, black hair falling just above his eyes, framing them in a soft, innocent kind of way, “You’re aware about it. Which is the most I can say about other people, so that’s a start. It’s not even close to doing better but at least now you have a starting point. And you can do something about it.” 

Your words seem to shake something in him, and he hums in understanding. A soft, sheepish smile takes over his lips, showing his gratitude in a simple, discreet way. 

And then his smile turns into a teasing smirk. “You should be a professional life coach, that speech was very Tedtalk of you,” he teases with glinting eyes. You find yourself smiling at him, even though your groan. 

“I’m never saying anything to you, ever again...” you grumble, returning to your drink. 

Yoongi does the same. “Good luck with that...” he winks at you, and a groan breaks free from you throat just as your heart misses a beat. 

“Ugh, as soon as Dean arrives, I’m out of here.” 

“Isn’t he treating you right, doll?” 

The voice sounds right next to your ear, and you jump around. 

Only to see the man you came here looking for, staring at you with interest and a sinful smirk to match. 

Damn, you forgot how hot he was. 

Still, Dean’s arrival doesn’t faze you. Not like it does Yoongi (who almost spits out his drink from the heaviness of the newcomer’s voice). Instead, you look at the werewolf boy who looks like he enjoys what’s in front of him a little too much. 

“I’ll take care of you and maybe I’ll teach handsome here a thing or two if he’d like. I’m feeling naughty tonight...”  Dean’s eyes are soon upon Yoongi, drinking him in with appreciation, as one would look at a painting. Or dessert. 

Then he winks at him with all the confidence in the world and Yoongi sputters something that sound like he’s swearing. 

Although you’re sure his ears are turning red. 

“Actually, we’re here for something else-” you get interrupted by Dean, leaning over you. His face hovers above yours and one strand of hair falls across his forehead. 

“And here I thought you were back for seconds...” he whispers lowly, the timbre of his voice cascading down your spine, reminding you of things which are not appropriate for this particular conversation. 

You catch Yoongi faltering with the corner of your eye. But you don’t have your wits gathered to comment on his behaviour, too preoccupied with the man staring at you like he stared at Yoongi a moment earlier. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, ignoring his flaming eyes, trying to focus on the issue at hand. Yoongi keeps looking at you with caution, true to his promise of letting you do the talking, as his finger taps against his drink. 

“Nope. Not here for that...” you repeat, as if trying to convince yourself as well. You shake your head, trying to escape your sudden stupor and level Dean with a serious gaze. 

The werewolf boy raises an eyebrow. “None of you?” 

Yoongi coughs loudly and you put your question of it aside, to give Dean a negative shake of your head. 

He sighs dramatically as he drops his body against the bar, leisurely staring up at the ceiling. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to entertain myself differently... So, what’s it you’re really here for...?” he comments as he beckons the bartender over. 

Yoongi’s scrutinizing eyes keep following the other man, as he finishes the last of his drink. 

“We’re here because-” you begin to answer, but Dean interrupts you when the bartender arrives. 

“Ah, there you are. I’ll have a White Russian and- what were you drinking pretty boy?”  

It takes you a minute to realise he’s talking at Yoongi. You belatedly turn your attention to the vampire boy on the other side of you and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes remain stuck forward. 

Like if he stays still enough maybe Dean won’t see him. 

“It’s on me...” the werewolf boy says instead, very much seeing Yoongi through half-lidded eyes. Yoongi dares cast him a glance, only to see Dean biting his lip appreciatively. 

Yoongi grows redder than a bloody mary, returning his focus forward and you can’t help but feel curious. 

“No response? Well, then...” Dean shrugs as the bartender walks away with his order. 

You roll your eyes before attempting to, again, pick up his interest. 

“We’re here because we need you to find something for us...” you announce with a steady voice, and Dean looks at you. He looks somewhat bored now that he’s come to term with not having any of the two of you on his bed at the end of the night. 

“Doesn’t anyone, love?” he replies impassively, as his eyes wonder the now almost-full bar. But it seems his nonchalance has struck a chord in Yoongi’s demeanour. With a tired sigh, the vampire boy turns to at last talk to Dean. 

“We’re not talking about your “relaxing substances”. What we’re looking for is something a bit more arcane, and basically “forbidden” in this shitty town,” Yoongi hisses, his irritation palpable in the atmosphere and Dean raises an eyebrow at his sudden outburst. 

“Ah, so he speaks...” he comments dryly just as his drink arrives. Yoongi blinks before shaking his head and resuming his previous position, trying to appear as relaxed and calm as possible. 

Dean stares at him for another moment before, “Okay, I admit, you’ve piqued my interest. So, what is that “forbidden by Xefoto’s standards” thing you’re looking for?”. Then he takes a sip from his drink. 

“A book,” you reply instantly. 

Dean’s gaze meets your own this time. “I’m assuming it cannot be found in the public library...” 

You shake your head, and he sighs. 

“What kind of book are we talking about?” He inquiries. 

“A witch’s book,” you say, and he chuckles almost immediately. 

“Figured that much. What kind of a witch’s book?” 

What kind? There’s a lot?! 

Of course, there’s a lot! You can’t expect a witch to go around her life with only one book! 

“I...” you mumble, clearly unprepared for that type of question. The truth is you don’t know the answer. You never knew there were more than one book, so whatever you say now is bound to be wrong.  

Shame creeps up again, crawling up your spine. What kind of witch are you, not knowing there is more than one book?! 

“The apprentice’s guide.” 

Shock floods you and you turn at Yoongi, who’s just risen from his stool to look at Dean again. Dean honestly looks like his favourite dessert just arrived. 

You release a heavy breath, thankful that at least Yoongi knew what you were looking for. Though now it seems the two boys are locked into a starring match. 

Dean looks at Yoongi as if he’s ready to devour him, all heavy-lidded eyes and promising grins and you have to remind yourself to stay focused. 

Yoongi on the other hand looks at Dean with the air of calm confidence you’ve learned to pick up whenever he means business. His gaze is made of steel, staring at the werewolf boy perfectly still, willing him to challenge him just to see how far he can go. 

“Alright,” Dean replies after a while, setting his drink on the counter. “I’ll see what I can do...” 

Your eyes light up, and you jump out of your stool. “Really?” 

Dean sighs dramatically. “A deal’s a deal. I assume you’re prepared for the financial compensation...” he looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. 

You swallow your nervousness but nod either way. Truth is this will put a dump in your savings but it’s nothing they can’t handle. 

Dean hums, satisfied. “Alright. I’m gonna do my research, but you should expect it somewhere in the next two weeks.” 

“Great, thank you for helping,” Yoongi says, getting out of his stool to stand next to you. He levels his eyes with Dean in what seems to you only as a silent threat. 

Dean regards this only with a knowing smile. “I never back out of an interesting deal. Although...” he pauses to once again check out both of you. “My other offer still stands...” he continues as he leans over you once more. 

“I wouldn’t mind repeating that night sweetheart. Great things shouldn’t be done only once...” his eyes fall to your lips, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. His words wake up memories from this very bar from a year ago with stunning detail. 

Your cheeks redden, your pulse quickens and you’re pretty sure you feel something between your legs. As if merely his voice managed to remind you of the feeling his hands left on your skin. 

A cough brings you back to reality and you look towards the noise. Only to see Yoongi covering his mouth with his fist and looking over the crowd. 

Dean, of course, doesn’t miss the sound, the same lustful intention hiding in his eyes as he regards the vampire boy. “Of course, you’re invited as well pretty boy. We three would paint a stunning picture...” 

You want the ground to swallow you whole, trying to think of anything other than what Dean is insinuating. “We’re good, thank you,” you reply swiftly, trying to push a very stunned Yoongi backwards toward the exit. 

Dean’s smirk only grows at both of your flustered reactions. Then he raises his drink in a departing salute. 

And with that mental image in your head, you leave the bar.  

. 

. 

As you make your way back to “Selkie’s Place” for a rundown of your visit and a much-needed breather, you can’t help but think of how Yoongi reacted to Dean’s shameless behaviour. One might say the vampire boy wasn’t just angry at his advances. 

You can’t help but feel curious. 

You steal a look at his pensive figure, his eyes stuck at the road in front of him, just as the bar comes into view. 

“So...” you begin cautiously, causing Yoongi’s eyes to meet your own. “What do you think?” 

Yoongi takes in your question before, “He seemed legit. Willing to help and pretty cooperative,” he recounts in thought. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to go back on his word. We should tread lightly,” he finishes just as you pass the front gate. 

“Uh huh...” you nod dubiously, “but that’s not really what I’m asking about...” you reply calmly, opening the door to the pub. You try to tread the subject lightly, not really sure if Yoongi is up for that conversation with you. 

Yoongi stills for a second, eyes wide before, “then what are you asking about?”. His words are cautious but that same glint of mischievousness you’re used to, rises up from his voice. 

A wave of relief washes over you quickly, before you roll your eyes playfully. “Come on, you grew redder than a tomato back there...” 

“Was it that noticeable?” he muses as you reach the bar stools. 

“I’d say...” you climb up the seat, while waiting for his reply but it never comes. He has fallen silent, and you dare take a peek at him. 

He’s staring at his joined hands at the top of the counter, dark hair falling at the sides of his face and while he looks like a painting sitting like this, you realize your question must have put him in a tough spot after all. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...” your voice is soft, remorse evident in it as Yoongi finally turns to look at you, lost in thought. 

But then he shakes his head, smiling earnestly at you. “No, you didn’t, I just...” he stops, as if recollecting whatever he was about to say to mull it over. You patiently wait, letting him say whatever he wants, in his own pace. 

“I’m... bi,” he responds finally, eyes cautiously searching for your reaction.  

Even though you suspected as much, the words still startle you. It’s another thing to believe that something is true and another thing to know it is. 

Yoongi’s eyes still look wary of you, and you realise you must have shown no reaction at all. 

You smile immediately, wanting to put him at ease. Revealing something like that is never easy. You should know. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you say softly, and Yoongi’s shoulders visibly relax. A breathless chuckle escapes him. 

He nods at you with a small smile, but his gaze turns curious, almost... expectant. 

But you say nothing as you turn to wave at Mona, coming from the kitchen. 

A moment passes where Yoongi is silent, and you refuse to look at whatever expression might be on his face. 

Instead, he clears his throat, getting rid of the sudden awkwardness. “So, about that book...” 

You almost sag down in relief. “What about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“Have you really never seen one before?” 

You blink, unsure of how to answer. “I...” you begin, taken aback, before you sigh. “No... I mean my mom had one of her own when she was younger, but I’ve never seen it....” 

Yoongi frowns. “Is it not around your home?” 

You shake your head. “She only needed it when she was still learning, at her childhood home. She didn’t have any use for it when she got older. She already knew everything by heart...” 

Like all the times she used to practice spells back at home. Of simple ones and hexes to get through every day's chores, or just cute rhymes to make your toys float, simply because you asked her to. 

A bittersweet smile takes over your lips. Until you remember of the boy sitting next to you and you shake the memories away. 

Yoongi still looks at you intently. His eyes give away nothing of what he’s thinking but for some reason you feel... assured. Understood. Not a peck of judgement or pity resides in his eyes, and you know you can allow yourself to feel safe around him. 

You take a breath, willing yourself to get back on track. “Anyways, since you’ve seen one before, I bet it won’t take us long to find the spell now, will it?” you joke, and Yoongi gives you half a chuckle that instantly chases away your melancholy. 

But as an impromptu smile almost takes over your lips, a tall figure stumbles into the bar and your eyes go wide. You’d know this clumsiness with feet everywhere. 

Namjoon’s wide shoulders bump into someone and as he turns to apologize, you quickly redirect your gaze to Yoongi. 

It takes a second to register he was about to tease you back, but when he meets your gaze, he realizes something is wrong. 

All you can think right now is that you don’t want Namjoon tangled in all this mess. You can’t have your friend dragged into all this, no matter how much he wants to help. 

So, you signal Yoongi to stop talking before Namjoon overhears anything he isn’t supposed to. Cause if he does, there’s no stopping him in helping you. 

Yoongi’s mouth shuts immediately. His eyebrows scrunch in and his gaze turns to whoever your frantic smile is directed at, as said stranger approaches your company. 

“Heyyy, what’s up guys?” Namjoon steps up to the two of you with his signature smile, although it’s not often you see it come out so forced. You haven’t told him anything about Yoongi, so you guess his reaction is kind of warranted. 

“Hi! We were just...” you start though all possible excuses evade you and you’re left staring at your friend like a deer in headlights. 

“We were partnered for a project in the “interspecies rights” lectures,” comes Yoongi answer to once again save you from embarrassment. You are thankful for his lie, but you can’t help but wonder how he knows you’re enrolled in those classes. 

Namjoon turns to you. He doesn’t look convinced. 

He sighs. 

“Ah, I see. Well, good luck, I hear Professor Argenal is tough as nails...” he replies as he takes a seat next to Yoongi, the picture of nonchalance. 

You can tell though he doesn’t believe you, not really. He’s just letting it go for the time being. 

“I’m Namjoon by the way,” he gives out his hand to the vampire boy, who takes it warmly and introduces himself. 

“So, I didn’t know you guys hang out here!” the elf boy tries at a conversation opening and your nerves ease for the second time tonight. 

“Ah yeah, we figured it’d be easier with Y/N working, and it’s a pretty good space for studying it seems,” Yoongi replies calmly and Namjoon nods. 

“What about the campus’s library?” he inquiries. 

Yoongi startles at that, and instinctively his gaze turns to you. “I...” he begins, at loss of words. 

Why haven’t you visited the library? Ah, yeah, cause Yoongi thought it wiser to remain as under the radar as possible. 

You know the sane reaction to this question would be to try and find a reasonable enough excuse of why you can’t go to the library. But truth be told, it seems his attitude towards you two being seen together, bothers you more than you once thought. 

So, you cannot help the heated words escaping your mouth. 

“Too crowded to work,” you reply, when you see Mona beckoning you over and you stand up to go to her. “People might actually see us.” 

You only catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s bewildered gaze, before you leave the two boys alone. 

. 

. 

Yoongi watches you go to Mona with perplexity. He took your words for the jab that they were, but he couldn’t understand what the jab was about. 

“Uh, did you know what that was about?” he turns to Namjoon. 

The blond man looks at him warily before he sighs. “How much do you know about Y/N?” 

“Mostly what everyone does, with the small difference of actually knowing she’s innocent,” Yoongi replies quickly, somehow offended by Namjoon’s inquiry. 

A tired sigh escapes Namjoon. “Look, I didn’t mean to offend you or whatever. All I wanted to know is how comfortable you are with one another.” 

“Oh...” Yoongi deflates. “Sorry...” 

Namjoon shakes his apology off. “It’s alright. So, you already know she grew up mostly alone, with basically no friends, right?” The elf boy questions him kindly and Yoongi nods. 

“So, you should also be aware of the fact she doesn’t trust people easily. Hell, when we first started hanging out, she constantly tried to bail on me. She thought I was pulling a prank on her or something...” 

Yoongi frowns at the thought of a young you, being so hurt you couldn’t believe someone wanted to be friends. “Okay...?” 

“What I’m saying is...” Namjoon stops to rethink his words. He turns his focus completely on Yoongi before he speaks again. “I don’t know what it is you’re really doing, and I won’t ask since it’s clear she doesn’t want me to know. But what I’m getting is you don’t want to be seen on campus together?” 

Yoongi nods. 

“Why is that?” comes Namjoon’s curious question and Yoongi bites his tongue. If he tells him why, then he’ll have to tell him about helping you. And for some strange reason you don’t want that. So, he keeps his mouth shut. 

Namjoon exhales once more. “You can’t talk about that either, huh?”. He stops for a second to recollect his thoughts. Yoongi has an inkling the boy tends to do that a lot whenever its concerning Y/N. 

The elf boy finally takes a deep breath and sits up straight. 

“Your reluctance to be seen together on campus could make her think you’re ashamed to be seen with her at all.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “What?! That’s definitely not it and she knows that!” 

Namjoon’s somber eyes meet the vampire boy. “I didn’t say it makes sense. I’m just telling you what might be going on.” 

Yoongi falls silent after that. It never even crossed his mind you’d perceive it as such. He thought it was a pretty smart decision on his part to avoid raising suspicion. But now after everything Namjoon told him, he knows he has to do something about it. 

He doesn’t want you thinking he’s ashamed of you. Something inside irks him at the thought. 

His eyes find you across the room, talking to Mona about something and already he tries to think of ways to make it up to you. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Yoongi asks Namjoon, his eyes still on you. 

“Cause she’s my friend. And I want her to be happy,” Namjoon admits as his gaze follows Yoongi’s. 

And Yoongi can’t help but agree with his words. 

#yoongi #suga #min yoongi #bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi scenario #suga scenario #bts scenario #bts yoongi scenario #vampire!yoongi #supernatural #angst #mystery #magical society au #magicals!au #roleplay #imagine #kpop scenario #idol scenario #suga imagine #yoongi imagine

[btsgreyvibes]

Ughhhh I got the idea of Shima Enaga familiar Jungkook and his witch Namjoon being wooed by the others in my head and now it won't leave me alone.

Shima Enaga Jungkook is incredibly soft and small as a familiar. A rare type and an indicator of how powerful Namjoon is. Namjoon owns a very popular magic shop.

Jungkook can often be found sleeping in the hood of Namjoon's hoodies or in pockets. He likes to nest in Namjoon's hair, little feet clinging to the strands as he watches everything. Namjoon puts up little rope ladders and netting around the store so Jungkook can climb his way up if he wants, ivy and branches happily reaching down to help the little bird if he finds himself stuck.

He can't fly well due to past injury. His right wing doesn't extend right anymore, the feathers look different than the rest of his body and if you look close enough you could see scars. He keeps the wing tucked in tight and uses the left for everything from keeping his balance to gesturing to things.

He likes to walk around the store. Little stick legs going full speed as he goes from one side to the other or doing little hops that makes everyone coo.

He peeps until people follow him if he knows they need help finding something, tugs on shoelaces when he wants to be picked up, and will carefully climb up shelved until he reaches what he wants. He even helps people check out sometimes, ignoring their surprise as he carefully shifts the coins around with his beak to count them before pushing them off behind the counter into a basket Namjoon leaves out for this exact reason.

He likes to be put in the window when it rains. One of the big windows up front has a little ledge full of trinkets and a woven basket stuffed with small, soft cuts of fabric. He sits there and watch the rain, occasionally chirping a greeting out to the people coming in.

Namjoon is an amazing witch, skilled and powerful enough to be of assistance for almost everything. Sometimes he loses customers though because of Jungkook, because he let his familiar get hurt. Even though familiars are notoriously protective and possessive, very likely to take injury instead of letting their witch risk it.

Namjoon 'should' have known better, aka should have been a better witch.

He doesn't argue with those people. Namjoon waited a long time to meet Jungkook and then he let the familiar get hurt. He's learning to live with that even though the guilt eats away at him sometimes. It wasn't his fault though and Jungkook will attack anyone who says otherwise.

The other 5 are customers. Quickly becoming enamored with the witch, their own magic curling out to brush against his every time they see him.

Jungkook isn't please when they flirt with Namjoon the first time, standing up from his spot in Namjoon's hair and working his way the front and peeping unhappily the whole time.. It doesn't help that they're all cooing over him while Namjoon looks done with everything. He pecks Taehyung when he can't help but reach out, little beak barely big enough to be a pinch.

They've never been side eyed by a bird before but Jungkook slowly warms up to them as time passes. Even letting them help him up or down from spots and eventually clinging to them like he does Namjoon. Sitting on Seokjin's shoulders, in the hood of Yoongi's jacket, in Taehyung's hair, the pockets of Hoseok's sweats and Jimin's hat.

If they plan on courting Namjoon than they also have to win over Jungkook, which wouldn't be an issue but Jungkook doesn't shift. Like ever. They've been visiting the shop for months and still have no idea what Jungkook looks like. Don't get them wrong, they adore the little bird but they want Namjoon to be a part of their cover, they want Jungkook to be a part of their coven.

Witches age differently than normal humans. Namjoon is older than some of them but far from actually being the oldest of their group. Jungkook is young, he hasn't even hit 50 years yet and now he'll live as long as Namjoon since they've bonded.

They could treat that as the main reason Namjoon is so protective of the familiar but there's more to it. A desperation to it that makes them protective of the two without knowing why and fretting over Jungkook almost as much as Namjoon.

It takes time but they get the story. They get told about a young Namjoon so happy to finally have a familiar and Jungkook so innocent and hopeful. Namjoon says they should have paid more attention. That he should have watched over Jungkook better, should have been better but he was young. Rare familiars are worth millions and Jungkook was very rare. They had already bonded but bonds could be broken and reformed. It was risky, more times than not the familiar dying from the stress but people were greedy and willing to risk it.

A group of people took Jungkook, they got close to Namjoon and once they thought they could get away with it they made their move. They tried to break the bond and it almost killed Jungkook. The whole thing ended better than it could have but it left Namjoon overly anxious and Jungkook with a lame wing.

The 5 take a moment to hope Namjoon was vengeful and everyone involved with hurting Jungkook was killed. Hurting a familiar is a huge and unforgivable crime, punishable by whatever the witch of said familiar deems fit.

It's easier to deal with the residual pain as a bird. The wound itself had healed but it left behind heavy scarring and lingering pain. The scaring on his human form was extensive and Jungkook got self conscious of it being so visible.

Namjoon's reluctance to fully let the others in and allow them to court he and Jungkook suddenly makes sense and they're even more determined to win the witch and his familiar over.

Eventually they get to meet Jungkook. Human Jungkook.

One day a young witch and their cat familiar visit the stop, neither one necessarily doing anything wrong but something is heavy in the air. The cat keeps watching Jungkook while the witch looks around. Jungkook sits on the edge of the counter overlooking everything, occasionally giving a little chirp in greeting when some of the younger ones walk by.

They should have done something, should have realized what was going to happen before it did but familiars aren't victims to their instincts. The cat should have acknowledged Jungkook as another familiar and moved on.. but it didn't.

The cat jumps up and just manages to swipe Jungkook with his paw. It's enough to pull him off the ledge. It's enough for a little blood to bead up on snow white feathers. It's enough that Jungkook tries to catch himself and everyone can clearly see one wing doesn't work right, doesn't help him slow down at all.

He hits the ground with a little thump and stays there.

No one even gets a chance to move before everything goes to hell.

The 5 manage to get everyone out quickly, snarling at the witch and the cat to never come back, and close the shop. Puddles soak into the floor and lightning still flashes up by the ceiling. Thunder rumbles a warning when they get close to Namjoon but settle back down into a soft hum. The shop is a mess, storms aren't meant to be contained in buildings after all, but that's not the pressing issue at hand.

Namjoon sits on floor, shaking and frantic as he stays hunched protectively over Jungkook. Big hands quivering but so careful as he brushes at the small beads of blood and carefully helps the familiar draw his wing back into its tucked position. He pulls Jungkook into his chest and curls up around him, breathing harshly and blinking back tears.

The next day someone else greets them at the store. He's incredibly pretty and quiet as he nervously tugs his oversized sweater over his hands. It takes them longer than they want to admit to realize who he is. And what a great example of magic at work because Jungkook is almost the exact opposite of his animal form.

They're smitten, especially after they get him to smile at them. Namjoon watches them like a hawk as they talk to him, more than ready to jump in and intervene if needed. Jungkook makes a small noise at him and noses at his neck briefly to get him to relax, Namjoon sinking into it and finally relaxing enough to enjoy all his favorite people together.

Happy ot7 ending of course.

I just needed to word barf my feelings about this really quick.

#bts #bts ot7 #ot7 #namkook #taekook #vkook #vminkook #yoonkook #jinkook #jungkook x everyone #Namjoon x everyone #magic au #bottom jungkook #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung