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wishesunderthestars · 11 months

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Of Storms And Vampires // Ch. 1

Pairings: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader x Vampire!Jungkook

Summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn't simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook's sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

Genre: fluff, angst

Word Count: 9.1k+

The wind howled outside with the voice of a thousand lost souls. You had read somewhere that the breeze and the sounds of the night were the dead singing. If that were true, tonight they were screaming.

The storm had hit in the afternoon in full force, getting only worse since then. In seconds, the first few droplets turned into arrows of water falling from the heavens. Dark clouds overtook the sky, wiping out the sun and bringing the night early. Lightning struck every few minutes followed by loud thunder that sounded too close for comfort. You had sensed the storm brewing a few days ago but only yesterday you had realized how strong it was going to be. It was like all the rage of the Gods had been released at once.

The rain splattered on the windowpane relentlessly, a constant murmuring in the background interrupted only by the thunder. You could cast a silencing spell but you needed to be aware of what was happening outside and the sounds were comforting in a way. It was the music of lonely nights and disasters.

You were curled up in the overstuffed armchair next to the fireplace, a book on kitchen magic leaning on your thighs. The fire flickered and danced, flaming tendrils reaching for above. It was a calm night for you, almost peaceful. You had been casting protections against the storm on your house, your garden, and the small farmhouse of your animals for days. There was nothing to worry about, you were more than safe. But your mind kept going to the town. It was the worst storm this part of the world had seen in decades.

You flipped the page to the recipe for an antipyretic potion and breathed in the smoky scent of burning firewood. Your eyes scanned over the ingredients of the potion and you considered how it could be improved to better fit your magic, without losing its essence. It was hard changing existing recipes and spells but when done right, it could be very rewarding.

You sensed the presence before you heard the thud. It was small and weak, pulsing in flashes. Something had hit your window but you had only seen a black blur before it disappeared. You closed the book and lowered your feet from the couch, listening for any more noises. None followed. The rain continued like before.

The aura of something—someone—, that hadn't been there before persisted. You had to see what it was, maybe it was an injured animal that needed your help. The forest would lead them to you sometimes, both animals and humans in need.

You wrapped your black cloak around yourself and raised the hood. It was woven with enchanted thread for protection and stitched with intentions of blending in with your surroundings. The protection applied to the weather as well, it wouldn't completely spare you from the heavy rain but it would be more like going out during a mild rainfall instead of getting drenched within seconds.

Outside, the world was dark and ominous. Trees lurched and bent under the force of the wind, its strength was enough to uproot some smaller and more frail ones. The rain bounced off your cloak and thunder boomed overhead. You shielded your lantern underneath your cloak and, with your boots sinking into the wet earth, moved carefully toward where you had heard the sound. At first, you didn't see it in the darkness but when your eyes adjusted, you noticed the outline of the crumbled figure underneath the window.

The creature was small and it was shivering, probably both by the cold and the fear of the storm. You approached slowly, trying to seem non-threatening. It was a small bat, one of its wings bent at a weird angle and the other hiding its face.

"Hello, little guy," you said, sending some of your energy to the bat to soothe it. The wind swept your voice away but you still tried. "I'm going to have to pick you up and take you inside. You can't stay out here in the storm."

With a short incantation, you enchanted the lantern to float in place and slid one hand underneath the bat's small form, covering it gently with your other hand. It struggled a little but settled soon. By touch, you understood two things. It wasn't a normal bat but, in your hands, you were holding a vampire. And it was a very young one.

"I'm going to take care of you," you promised, cradling the vampire close to your chest. "You don't have to be afraid."

You rushed back inside, careful not to jostle him. You unclasped your coat, took off your boots at the entrance, and carried the baby vampire into the living room, sitting down on the armchair near the fire. His small body was trembling and the fire would calm the cold leeching on his bones. You laid him on your thighs to take a quick look at his injuries. There were a couple you could see at first glance, one of his wings was broken and there was a shallow gash on his belly.

You touched his forehead with two fingers and transferred some more of your energy to him. The vampire flinched but when he felt life seeping into his veins, his eyes—which were larger than any other bat you had seen—widened, looking at you in wonder.

“Stay here,” you advised, laying him on the armchair as you got up. “I’ll be back with a few things to treat your injuries. Don’t move too much.”

You kept most of your potions and salves in the kitchen, they were in jars and tins of various sizes stored in your cabinets. Various herbs tied together with thick strings were hanging from the ceiling and potted plants lined the windowsills. The counters were cluttered with multiple ingredients for potions and spells, from the most common ones like dried daisies, mint, and sea glass to some rare—or mostly avoided—ones like bleeding nightshade, dragon hair, and heart crystals.

You opened the cabinet that contained most of your medicinal potions and a few salves. You skimmed over the labels, reciting their properties in your head and contemplating which ones would be better suited for a vampire. In the end, you grabbed a vial of dark green liquid and a small bottle, the inside of which was reflective like a mirror. The first one was to fight off the effects of the cold, it wasn’t easy for vampires to get sick but the vampire was young and he had probably spent too much time in the storm. The second one was to ease the pain and speed up healing and its effects could last for as long as twelve hours. Before returning to the living room, you grabbed a platinum tin containing a salve that would accelerate the process of the skin stitching together.

The baby vampire had obediently stayed where you had left him, his eyes were half-closed and he was still shaking. There was a small pang in your heart for him. Baby vampires weren’t supposed to be alone for more than a few hours, they needed the presence of their sire like humans needed air. But here he was, alone in the forest with a witch and his sire nowhere in sight.

“I’m back,” you said softly. The vampire opened his eyes a little and turned his head in your direction. His eyes were so bright, much brighter than any vampire you had ever met. “I need to take care of your injuries now. You need to drink these, they are going to help you heal.”

The vampire eyed the potions but, surprisingly, he didn’t put up a fight, opening his mouth.

“Good boy,” you said and if the vampire was in his human form, you were sure he would be blushing. As much as vampires could blush. You poured the green potion in his mouth first and when he swallowed, he made a face of disgust. “I know it doesn’t taste great but it’s one of the best potions for this.” He tilted his head and to distract him, you started explaining to him what the properties of each potion were.

You applied the salve on his wound with careful fingers, he whimpered but didn’t snap at you like you had expected. He was pretty docile for a young vampire, who could get violent away from their sire’s protection. Then, you made a small cast out of some cloth for his wing.

“By tomorrow night, you will be able to shift back. We can see how much your arm has been affected then. But I believe you will make a quick recovery,” you said and the bat let out a chirp. “Please, in the future, avoid going out before or during storms. Your bat form isn’t strong enough to withstand this kind of weather. You’re very lucky you hit my window.” He made a squeaking sound and lowered his head at your admonishment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Some of the most sensitive ingredients were kept in the refrigerator that was powered by magic. One of those ingredients, stored in a large jar, was human blood. It was one of the ingredients that was frowned upon but was necessary for your type of magic and a very powerful asset. You poured a good amount into a bowl and put the rest back in the fridge.

The scent of blood made the vampire’s head shoot up as soon as you walked into the living room. “Stay there, I’m bringing it to you.” The vampire made a few more chirping noises as you carried the bowl and set it in front of him. He looked at you and when you nodded, he dived head-first into the blood. “It isn’t fresh but it will have to do. I know that baby vampires need blood.”

He gulped down the blood hungrily and when the bowl was licked clean, he looked at you with his large eyes.

“That’s enough for now. I’ll give you more later,” you said, picking up the bowl. “Now, rest.”

Vampires stayed in nests with their sires while they were still young, so you tried to make a mock nest for the small bat. On the floor by the fireplace, you bunched up a fluffy blanket, placed two pillows on top, and laid the vampire inside. You thought you heard him sigh as he settled, making himself comfortable. After the events of the day and the two potions, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Near this side of the forest, there was only one small town from where he could have got lost. You tried to remember if there were any vampires that lived in the town but came up blank. You didn’t visit the town often and your interactions with its inhabitants were rare. Whatever you learned about them, you learned from Seokjin, who took it up to himself to fill you in on all the gossip he could remember. And he had a very strong memory.

You stayed in the living room for a while longer, picking up the magic book where you left off and throwing glances at the bat every few pages. He was sleeping soundlessly, shifting only when thunder struck somewhere nearby. Soon, you closed the book again and after adjusting the blanket around the vampire’s small form, you retired to your room for the night.

The next morning, you woke up to the sounds of the storm raging outside. The wind whipped the roof and the walls and the rain falling was enough to fill up a river. Outside the window of your bedroom, the world was being suffocated in gray. The sun had disappeared, hidden behind the endless expanse of dark clouds. The storm would last through the day and hopefully calm during the night. However, the signs showed that it wouldn’t be gone soon.

You dressed for the day and braided your hair to keep it out of your face. There were things you had to do, despite the storm outside. Most importantly, there was a baby vampire that needed your attention in the living room.

Said vampire was awake and lazying around in his makeshift nest. He blinked slowly at you before letting out a couple of chirps, shaking his not-injured wing in what you guessed was the bat equivalent to waving at you. You had to admit that he was adorable as he greeted you enthusiastically.

“Good morning. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” you asked and the bat nodded his head. He gestured to his belly with his wing and you were glad to see that the skin was already stitching itself together. “This looks good, you are healing quickly. By nightfall, it will only be a small scar and that will go away soon too. But you will still need to be careful, don’t go flying into a storm again.” He squeaked lowly and lowered his head, making you giggle. “Now, let me take a look at your wing.”

His wing was also healing nicely and, as you had predicted, he would be able to turn back into his human form, if he wanted to, by the end of the day. It would make communication much easier although you weren’t sure if you would prefer that over the cute bat. You had found over the years living alone in your cottage in the forest that you were better at interacting with animals than with people.

You let go of his wing and the vampire squeaked and pointed to his belly and then his mouth.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some blood?” you asked and he responded by pleased chirping. “Okay, I’ll bring some to you since you have been a good patient.”

You poured some blood for him in the same bowl as yesterday. The jar of human blood was enough to get you through more than a year of potions and spells but it could barely last for two days as the main food source of a vampire, especially a young one that needed feeding regularly. You hoped the storm would ease by tomorrow and you would be able to look for his sire. You would have to be on guard because sires were overprotective of their fledglings and if they believed you had been keeping them apart for no reason, it could get ugly.

You placed the bowl in front of the vampire, who chirped in thanks and started drinking messily. Blood stained the fur around his mouth and he looked almost angry at how good the blood tasted. For now, your priority was to take care of him, you would have to worry about his sire later.

While the vampire was drinking his blood, you bustled around the kitchen. You made a quick and simple breakfast for yourself, a cup of tea with ginseng for energy and bread with homemade strawberry jam. Like every morning, you lit up a fire in the hearth and filled your cauldron with water and a crystalline blue powder you had made for cleansing. Something was always brewing in a witch’s cauldron.

You were going to make a specialized potion for the little vampire to enhance his healing abilities. The effects of the one you had given him last night would have worn off and personalized potions were more effective. Opening and closing cupboards and drawers, you gathered a few of the ingredients you would use, consulting a recipe from a magic book focused on magical creatures.

After a few minutes, the cauldron was clean and ready for work. You measured the first few ingredients and put them in. They needed to boil a couple of hours on their own before you added a pinch of dried rosemary and red oyster mushrooms. Brewing potions was like performing a ritual, it wasn’t only about the ingredients and the quantities, it was about the timing, the intentions, and each action itself. You had to sense what the potion needed and how it needed it done. Some potions could take days to make and the more difficult ones could be ruined by a single wrong move or even a bad thought. It was a delicate process but you enjoyed it.

The rain persisted but you had to go outside to feed the animals and make sure that their protections were holding up. The storm must have scared them and your presence would calm them.

The vampire had closed his eyes again, the bowl in front of him empty. He opened one eye to look at you and as you picked up the bowl to return it to the kitchen, he bumped his head against your hand.

“Do you like petting?” you asked, stroking between his ears. He closed his eyes and wiggled happily at the attention. “You do, don’t you? You are really cute, such a cute bat.” He preened at the praise and you cooed. “I’ll go outside for a bit but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

The vampire chirped in answer although he didn’t seem happy to be deprived of petting. You threw on your cloak to protect yourself from the wild weather outside and made your way to the small farmhouse.

It was only a few meters away from the house, through a cobblestone path that at least saved your boots from sinking in the mud. The farmhouse had been there when Seokjin had first led you to this place but it had been in a much worse condition than the house. The roof had crumpled in and the walls would have followed soon, leaving nothing but a heap of decayed wood. The renovations lasted a couple of months, accomplished mostly by you, Seokjin, Jimin, and a few people from the town that Seokjin had called when he realized there were a few things that, magic or not, you simply couldn’t do.

The ground of the farmhouse was dry, evidence that your protection spells were still holding strong. The familiar sounds of the animals greeted you, the bleating and the clucking, the hooves against the ground, and the flapping of wings. There were ten chickens, six goats, and Daisy, your horse, who had got her name from her fondness of eating daisies. They all had their own fenced areas with enough space to roam and stretch their limbs—the fence of the chicken coop almost reached the ceiling because your chickens could somehow fly much higher than normal chickens could.

You visited all of the animals, petting them and replenishing their food. None of them liked the thunder and the wind howling but, luckily, they understood they were safe inside. They surrounded you and you spoke softly to them. You weren’t an animal witch but you were good with them. You had learned quickly and you had been surprised to find that animals enjoyed your company.

Last, you went to Daisy. You stroked her neck, fed her apples, and promised to take her on a long walk to the fields at the end of the forest and let her gallop for as long as she liked. Forests weren’t the most suitable places for horses but Daisy seemed to like it well enough as long as you took her to the fields from time to time.

Returning to the house, you found the vampire squirming and agitated. Apparently, he didn’t like staying still for such a long time, so you carried him with you to the kitchen. His eyes followed you while you worked on the potion so you started explaining to him what you were doing. You weren’t sure how much he understood or how much he knew about witchcraft but he was an attentive audience. He made sounds whenever you said something interesting and he stopped hopping around the counter whenever you told him to.

For lunch, you heated up some leftover tomato soup from the previous day and you fed the bat a plum. Once upon a time, there was a vampire you had been close with, or you had been getting there, and he had told you that plums were his favorite food to eat when he was in bat form. The little one on your table must be the same because he devoured it.

He kept you company for the rest of the day and at some point he somehow ended up clinging on your shoulder and refused to budge. He didn’t weigh much so you didn’t mind and you guessed he was missing his sire and needed some contact to stay grounded.

In the afternoon, the potion was ready. First, you poured the potion into the bat’s mouth like you had done the previous night and then filled his bowl with blood. Your work in the kitchen was done and you returned to the living room, settling in the armchair. The vampire curled up in your lap and you petted his head while you flipped through a random book from your stack on the floor. You had run out of space so your books were everywhere now. You should hire someone to make more shelves for you.

The vampire was getting drowsy so you left him in the armchair and you went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for yourself. It was part of your routine to have a cup of tea along with some baked goods in the afternoon. Living away from civilization, you had discovered the comfort of mundane moments and the importance of a nice routine.

You boiled water and looked through your jars of tea. They were your own varieties, you had mixed their ingredients with light enchantments to boost their benefits. Black tea was one of your favorites to drink in the afternoon so you chose one with maple and vanilla pieces, hazelnuts, nutmeg and honeybush. It was fitting for the weather. The sweet honey fragrance mingled with vanilla tickled your nose when you opened the jar. You filled the teapot with the hot water and added two tablespoons of tea to the infuser.

In the 4 minutes the tea required to brew, you cut a piece of the apple pie you had made yesterday and plated it. The aroma of the soft, spiced apples and the brown sugar drifted in the kitchen. A tiny bit of magic kept anything you baked as fresh as the day they were pulled out of the oven. Another thing you discovered while living in the forest was your love for baking. When you lived in the city, you had dabbled in baking, occasionally baking chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon rolls, but it wasn’t until you moved here that you truly fell in love with it.

You arranged everything in a tray, along with a smaller cup in case the vampire wanted to try, but you stopped short at the door to the living room. The tray almost slipped from your hands at the sight of a young man sitting where the little bat used to be. He looked young, with large eyes and messy dark hair that reached past his ears. A silver ring glinted on his bottom lip and more silver earrings adorned both of his ears. He was wearing all black and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo underneath the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Hi,” he said, sheepishly waving at you. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to.”

You had to get yourself together, you had known since the beginning that it wasn’t a regular bat you were treating but a vampire that would need to turn back into his other form at some point. You had expected it, it was obvious that it would happen at some point. You shouldn’t be surprised. But you hadn’t expected him to look… like that.

“You didn’t scare me, I was just surprised,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to see you in this form.”

He fidgeted with his sleeves, making himself smaller. “Did you like my other form better? I can change back. It just makes me feel a little weird when I’m a bat for too long. But I can change back, I can.”

“No, no,” you rushed to say. “I don’t mind really. This form is nice as well.”

Mentally, you slapped yourself, you couldn’t be more awkward if you tried. At least, the vampire looked pleased at that, a small smile making its way to his face. It was unfair that he was cute even in his human form.

You approached and put the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s good that you are back in this form. Now, we can finally meet. What is your name?”

“Jungkook,” the vampire replied shyly and you offered your own name. “I wanted to say thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t taken me in. I’m not sure if I would have made it.” His smile tightened and you shuddered just thinking about it. “I’m really thankful for everything. If there is any way for me to repay you, I will do anything.”

“There is no need for that. I wanted to help you and it was the right thing to do. Just promise me you will be careful in the future. Your bat form is small and you saw how dangerous storms can be for you.”

Jungkook nodded, abashed. “I won’t, I promise. I thought I had some time before it hit and I wanted to explore the forest. I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry to me, it’s you who was flung from tree to tree last night.” He chuckled a little at that. “Do you want some tea? It’s black with maple and vanilla.”

“Yes, please,” he said politely.

You picked up the black ceramic teapot and paused. “I brought a cup for you because I thought you would be in your bat form. Would you like a mug?”

“No, no, the cup is fine,” Jungkook insisted.

You poured some into the cup first and then into your mug. The cup was from the same set as the teapot, black and with the same engravings of flowers and vines. Your mug was a gift from Seokjin during his pottery phase, like many of his obsessions you weren’t sure how or why it started. It was weird cups at first that looked like melting pieces of clay but he got pretty good by the end. Before he moved on to his next obsession, he was able to make things like your mug, which was shaped like a cauldron and he and Jimin had painted it to look like the night sky.

Jungkook hugged his cup in his hands, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in the sweet aroma of tea and closed his eyes in delight.

“Do you want some honey or sugar?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch. “I usually drink my own without and I didn’t think to bring any.”

“No, it’s okay.” He took the first sip and you could tell that it wasn’t okay. He frowned, but not in the way you had seen when he was drinking blood, and pursed his lips. He didn’t say anything but it was clear he was trying to pretend that it wasn’t too bitter for him.

You chuckled and set your mug down. “I’ll bring some honey for you.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said, wincing subtly.

You got the jar of honey from the kitchen and added two teaspoons to his tea. That way, he liked it enough that he asked for a refill. While you drank your tea together, he explained to you that he was in town for a few days visiting some friends with his sire. He had spent all of his life in the city and the small town and the forest fascinated him. He knew that there was a storm coming but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. He had been planning to go for a quick flight to stretch his wings before it hit, he hadn’t got to explore the forest yet and he was curious. Unfortunately, the storm hit early and the wind had dragged him deeper into the darkness.

“I thought I wouldn’t make it out,” he admitted quietly, holding his cup close to his chest. “It was so strong and so loud and I couldn’t fight it. I’m not very strong in my bat form, I’m still young and I don’t have much practice. I couldn’t hold on to anything and I couldn’t find shelter. I was thinking about my sire and how sad he would be. He must be very worried.”

The bond between sires and their fledglings was very strong and for the first months after the turning, some sires wouldn’t even let their fledgling out of their sight. For years, the sires would take care of the younger vampires, help them adjust, and teach them everything about their new life. It wasn’t commonly understood but sires needed their fledglings as much as their fledglings needed them. You had read that there was a part of them, an echo of their own blood from the turning in their fledgling’s bloodstream, that called for them to be by their side.

“The storm is messing up with any means of magical communication but as soon as it calms a little, I can send a message to town,” you offered. “We can let him know you’re safe here until the worst passes and you can safely return to town. The townspeople know me, it will be alright.”

“Thank you.” You had lost count of how many times he had thanked you since he had changed forms.

You finished your tea and roped him into a game of cards to distract him from the thoughts of his sire. He got engrossed into the game quickly and he won two out of the three rounds you played. He had a competitive streak and he learned quickly the rules of every game you taught him.

It had been a few months since you had played cards with someone. Jimin had been the one to teach you and you had only ever played with him and Seokjin. It was fun to share this with someone else, even when he pouted when he lost. You didn’t care about winning very much so you didn’t mind and his excitement when he won was heart-warming to watch.

He jumped when loud thunder cracked through the night and you told him that he didn’t have to worry. You had applied strong protections on the house and the garden. And the forest protected you too. The storm was interfering with its magic but nothing could change its core and nothing could turn it on you. Turning on you would be like turning on itself and the forest was too wise for that.

You played games until well into the night. Jungkook’s eyes were growing heavy and his mouth stretched in small yawns. It was time to go to sleep. Jungkook curled up on the couch and you carried two knitted blankets to the living room and wrapped them around him. His cheeks grew rosy and he giggled at being tucked into bed like a child.

You left the fire burning in the hearth to keep him warm in the night.

“Goodnight, Jungkook. Have sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” he said, muffled by the blankets. “Sweet dreams.”

There was a change in the air like the turning of the tides. Your limbs were lighter and something different was lingering on your skin. You padded to the window and drew the curtains to the side. The sky was cloudy but it was no longer the suffocating darkness of the day before. The trees swayed and the rain persisted but it wasn’t attempting to drown the earth anymore. The storm was breaking.

You threw on one of your long black skirts and a brown sweatshirt and climbed down the stairs to the living room. Jungkook was sitting up on the couch and already looking in your direction when you walked inside. Supernatural hearing, you forgot about it sometimes.

"Good morning,” you greeted him. “The storm is slowly calming down. I will probably be able to send a message to the town and by tomorrow, it will be safe for you to return.”

“Thank you so much,” Jungkook said. He was fidgeting with his sleeves again but his smile was unmistakable. “I hope my sire will forgive me for being so careless.”

“I’m sure he will. For now, breakfast blood?”

Jungkook’s smile widened as he eagerly agreed. You couldn’t offer him the amount of blood he was used to, you had to ration it to make sure that it would last. It would be very difficult to get human blood once your supply was gone.

You hadn’t reached the kitchen yet when you sensed someone pass through your wards. The presence was familiar, the knowledge sitting in a hidden pocket in your brain and you couldn’t touch it. Jungkook hurried to the window, the path leading up to the door could be seen from there. He let out a small yelp before bolting to the door and throwing it open.

“Yoongi!” he shouted the name that had circled your mind for years. The presence was in your house and the name fit like a glove. Against your better judgment, you walked towards them to see for yourself. It could be someone else, couldn’t it? You just had to take a look.

He was clinging to Jungkook, hugging him so tightly it looked painful. Half of his face was hidden against the fledgling’s shoulder but it was unmistakably him. The memories were as clear as when you made them, they resurfaced stronger than any of your nightly musings bordering on regrets. His hair was longer than you remembered, reaching past his nape, his cat eyes were clenched shut and his skin was white porcelain. He was also drenched to the bone.

“I looked for you,” he said and his voice awoke more memories. “I looked for you everywhere I could– But the storm was too strong. We were locked inside for so long. They wouldn’t let me out. Don’t ever do that to me again, do you hear me? Don’t ever disappear on me like that. I was going out of my mind.”

“Never, I promise.” Jungkook was hugging him just as tight and although he was bigger in stature, he made himself smaller in the older vampire’s arms. “I’m alright. I was safe here. The wind carried me here and I was well taken care of. I should introduce you,” he said with excitement, pulling back a little.

Yoongi opened his eyes, their dark color made your heart beat faster. He looked at you behind Jungkook and when your eyes connected you could see the myriad of emotions passing through them. First, there was surprise, then disbelief and confusion and all the minor ones in-between. You had disappeared from one day to another, leaving no trace behind and no trail to follow. He must have believed he would never see you again.

Oblivious to the change in the atmosphere, Jungkook introduced you to each other, telling his sire how well you took care of him and that you kept him warm and well-fed and healed his injuries. You couldn’t read Yoongi, there must have been a point in your history that you had been able to but that was lost now.

There was silence after the introductions were over. Jungkook’s eyes jumped between the two of you. “Did I say something?”

“No, no, we just– We knew each other. In another life,” you said. Before you had enough of the wary glances and offending questions and fled the city. Before the manifestation of everything you had been afraid of.

Yoongi’s lips parted and he looked away. “We did. In another life,” he repeated bitterly.

“Oh.” Jungkook stood awkwardly between the two of you, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Thunder boomed outside and you rushed to close the door that they had forgotten half-open during their reunion. That served to remind you about the very important fact that Yoongi was wet enough to have taken a long dive in the lake.

“I’ll bring some towels, you’re dripping,” you said and climbed upstairs.

It was an escape but a necessary one. It gave you some time to think. Jungkook’s sire was Yoongi. Yoongi, who you had known for years when you lived in the city, who you had tried to forget for years while you lived in this cottage but gave in once you realized it was impossible. He starred in most of your favorite memories from the city. And that’s exactly what he was supposed to be. A memory.

What was he doing in your forest? You had run so far away from the city that no one from your past would be able to find you. Except one. You had one link left to your old life, Seokjin. Seokjin was the one who had shown you this cottage hidden in the forest that spilled into his hometown. When the incident had happened and you were desperate for an escape, he had been your savior and he had swore not to tell anyone about your whereabouts. Seokjin was also Yoongi’s friend.

The dots were connecting. Seokjin and Jimin were the friends Yoongi and Jungkook were visiting.

You grabbed two forest green towels and paused in the hallway. Seokjin hadn’t told you. The few times you had seen him in the past weeks, he hadn't mentioned anything about Yoongi. A twinge of hurt scraped at your heart. He should have told you. If he knew Yoongi would be visiting, why wouldn’t he tell you? He knew who Yoongi used to be to you. Had he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it? No one was supposed to know you were here but that was all over now.

You took a deep breath and returned downstairs. Yoongi was where you had left him, a small puddle of rainwater pooled at his feet. Jungkook’s clothes were also a little wet from their embrace but it was nothing compared to his sire.

“Here,” you said, handing him the towels.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for your floor.”

“The floor can be cleaned. You will catch your death like this.”

He rubbed his hair with the towel. “I’m already dead.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t work on me. I know vampires are not as indestructible as you would like to think. I have a spell to get all the water out of your clothes but I haven’t tried it on clothes that are currently being worn.”

Yoongi looked down at his drenched clothes. “It’s not that bad.”

“You are making a small lake on the floor,” you pointed out. “You didn’t even take an umbrella with you?”

“It was no use against the wind.”

The wind wasn’t so bad now but you guessed it must have been worse when he set out to find Jungkook. He could have been looking for hours before he stumbled upon your house. Usually, the forest helped along the ones who looked for you but the storm was messing with its energy.

Yoongi gave you permission to use the drying spell on his clothes, his face scrunching up when the water was removed. You didn’t use it often because it left the clothes stiff and weird to the touch for some time. They turned too dry but in the present situation, you didn’t have many options.

Jungkook was still looking between the two of you in confusion as he held on to Yoongi’s arm, although witnessing the spell had put a smile on his face.

“Now that you’re dry, let’s move to the living room,” you said. “I’ll get the fire going and make some tea. None of you are going out in the rain.”

Yoongi studied you and you felt naked under his eyes. He was the only person from your past, other than Seokjin, that you had seen since you fled. He knew a version of you that no longer existed and you hadn’t been prepared for that. In the end, you should have known. The past always comes knocking regardless of how long and how far you run from it.

Yoongi didn’t pretend to turn you down to be polite but silently followed you to the living room. Jungkook pointed to the armchair by the fire that he had claimed for himself and gushed about how comfortable and soft it was. However, he didn’t sit there in favor of staying close to Yoongi on the couch. It was clear he had missed his sire and he needed to be as close to him as possible.

You picked up a few logs of wood from the metal box near the fireplace and stacked them inside. You added two layers of kindling and reached for the matches.

“How do you know each other?” Jungkook asked, breaking the fragile silence.

Yoongi looked at you, staying quiet. He was going to let you share as much as you wanted. You were surprised that he wasn’t asking more questions himself. Maybe he hadn’t cared as much as Seokjin had told you. Maybe it was the shock.

“I used to live in the city,” you started. “I went to the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery and we met on campus. Yoongi was visiting a friend of his.”

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asked and Yoongi nodded.

Namjoon was another person who you hadn’t seen in years. He was a powerful witch but he had chosen the academic route and didn’t practice magic much. You hadn’t been very close but you could have got there. You enjoyed his company and you could talk for hours. You would see him in the library and around campus and you had coffee together a few times and talked about magic theory and how energy flowed through living things. Seokjin was your only link to him as well and you had learned from him that he was still teaching at the University and he had been promoted from assistant professor to professor. When the news reached them, Seokjin and Jimin had traveled to the city to celebrate with him.

“We haven’t spoken since she left the city,” Yoongi said it simply like you had decided to leave one day instead of fleeing in the night, taking the last train to a town in the middle of nowhere. That had been five years ago.

You lit up a match, the action familiar and comforting, and threw it between the logs. The fire spread slowly, enveloping the wood. You stroked the flames with the poker, pushing and pulling the logs until the fire was burning strong.

You got up and wiped your hands on the soot-stained towel that hung from the same hook as the poker. “I’ll make some tea to fend off the cold.”

In the kitchen, you put on your apron with the embroidered mushrooms and marigolds, taking a moment to pull yourself together. It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The ghosts of your past never disappeared but they hadn’t been more than ghosts until now.

You focused on the task at hand, setting the water to boil and opening the cabinet that housed your tea jars. Echinacea and elderberry tea with dried angel lotus leaves was the most effective for preventing colds and boosting the immune system. Its taste was also nice and soothing.

You were putting spoonfuls of the tea blend into the strainer when Yoongi walked inside. His footsteps were soundless and you felt his presence before you saw him. Vampires’ energies were different than most creatures. They weren’t alive, not exactly, and energies were tied to a creature’s life force. Therefore, for vampires, their energies were unique and as a witch who could feel life and death very acutely, you could detect them easily.

“Have you been here all this time?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

The sounds of boiling water caught your attention, steam was coming out of the kettle’s spout. You removed the kettle from over the fire and poured the water into the teapot.

“I have,” you replied. There was nothing else to say, any explanations you could offer were useless.

“That’s it? That’s all after all these years?” Yoongi asked.

You couldn’t look at him, fiddling with herbs there was nothing to do with and glancing at the large clock on the wall for the brewing time. “I don’t know what else to say. You know why I had to leave. I couldn’t stay after what happened.”

“And you chose to disappear without a word?” When you didn’t answer, he continued. “I was sure that Seokjin knew where you were but he swore he didn’t. He said you disappeared without telling him anything and that he hadn’t heard from you since. Regardless of how many times I asked, it was always the same answer.”

“I asked him to say that to anyone who asked,” you admitted. “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi shake his head slowly in disbelief. “Why? Why didn’t you want me to know?”

It hurt to keep quiet but there was no way to make this better. You couldn’t tell him that you had been afraid although a part of you knew Yoongi wouldn’t judge you, like Seokjin wouldn’t judge you. But your fear had been too big and all-consuming, fear of what he would think and also fear of what you could do. Your magic had proved to be much stronger than you had believed and you needed to regain control of it to ensure you wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And Yoongi was too strong of a link to the city. Your feelings were too much and too complicated. If he had known where you had run to, there was a chance he would have followed and it wouldn’t be only Seokjin you had doomed to a life in a small town he hadn’t wanted to return to.

Yoongi sighed. “That's all then. I came here to thank you for taking care of Jungkook,” he said, breaking the silence. “I will forever be in your debt. Jungkook told me of how you found him and how you cared for him. I was out of my mind when I couldn’t find him and I realised he was out in the storm alone. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything had happened to him, I would never forgive myself. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

“I will tell you what I told him, there is no need for thanks or debts. I wanted to help him and I did. The fact that he is a very cute bat also helped, I couldn’t resist.”

Your attempt at a joke was rewarded with a weak chuckle. “It’s those big eyes. It’s impossible to tell him no.”

“I can imagine that.” You glanced at the clock again. The tea was ready. “I guess you are visiting Jin. Now that the weather won’t interfere as much with my magic, I should send him a fire message to let him know that you are both here and safe. Knowing him, he will be fretting over where you are and driving Jimin crazy.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t tell him I would be leaving in the morning,” Yoongi confessed. It made sense, Seokjin wouldn’t have let him leave while the rain was still this heavy and definitely not without an umbrella. “Should I take this to the living room?” He gestured to the tray you had set up with the teapot and the three mugs.

“Yes, go ahead. The tea is ready.”

Yoongi picked up the tray and left the kitchen without saying anything more. There was a painful tightness in your throat as your shoulders slumped. You had to send that message to Seokjin but your feet were rooted to the ground and your knees were weak. You had thought you would never see Yoongi again and although it hurt, after years you had made peace with it. All that was [changed] by the storm and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You opened one of the drawers and pulled out a crinkled loose leaf of paper from the stack you kept there. On the counter, there was a pen next to the old witchcraft recipe book you had been studying the day before. You gripped the pen and debated how you should start the letter. He had known Yoongi was coming to town and yet he had told you nothing when he knew why you had run away and why no one should know where you were. He was supposed to be your best friend and best friends looked out for each other. For the first time during your friendship, that wasn’t true.

Suppressing your stupid anger, you wrote a quick message letting him know that Jungkook and Yoongi were safe in your house and that you would send them back to town once the rain and the forest’s magic calmed down. Towards the end, you added that you would like to know about any future guests of his from the city. You considered crossing over the bitterness that bled into the page but you let it be. Using black chalk, you drew the sigil for the fire message at the top right corner.

You lit up a blood-red candle and burned some thyme over the flame first. You recited the incantation while you held the message over the fire and watched it consume the paper. The magic was a lazy tingle at your fingertips and a warmth curled in your chest.

Yoongi and Jungkook were talking in hushed voices that were swiftly silenced when you walked back to the living room. The tea had been poured into the mugs but they were untouched. You picked up one of them on your way to the armchair. Conversation was stilted. Jungkook tried to alleviate the awkwardness but was soon shrinking into his sire’s side, clutching onto his mug of tea with both hands.

“The rain is growing weaker,” you observed. “The forest’s magic is settling, it can be unpredictable during storms and it’s dangerous to tread through it when it is like that. It will be best for you to return to the town before it picks up again.”

There would be another spike in a couple of hours before it broke in the night. That’s how storms like this one worked and what your senses were telling you.

You accompanied them to the door and they thanked you again. It felt like you didn’t deserve it with your past mistakes clinging to you like vices. Jungkook was quieter than last night when you were practically a stranger.

“Here,” you said, handing Yoongi the only umbrella you owned. It was a black one with little mushrooms Jimin had painted on it and enchanted them not to be washed away by rain. “I don’t use it much and I won’t be going into town for a few days. Seokjin can bring it back when he finds time.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi said.

You picked up your cloak from the coat stand and offered it to Jungkook. “And this is for you. It’s charmed to protect you from rain.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, making him look like a baby deer. “I can’t take your cloak,” he said, shaking his head. “You might need it.”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have anywhere to go.” You would have to go to the farmhouse later in the day but it was only a short distance away and a little rain wouldn’t phase you. You took it up to yourself to wrap the cloak around him and pull the hood over his head. “I didn’t nurse you back to health for you to get sick now.”

Suddenly, there was a blur of movement and strong arms were wrapped around you. Jungkook was hugging you and, when the shock wore off, you hugged him back.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, his voice sounding a little wet.

“If anything, you found me,” you joked. You pulled back, although you didn’t want to let go of him. “Go now. The forest will lead you to the town.”

“I will bring the cloak back to you,” Jungkook promised before he and Yoongi left. On the path, Yoongi glanced back at you over his shoulder but you averted your eyes and closed the door.

Five years and your heart still fluttered. But it was different. There was guilt tainting everything surrounding him. You had imagined meeting him again countless times, of course, you had, mostly during restless nights and too quiet mornings, but it hadn’t played out like this in any of your scenarios. It was too… simple, too mundane, even though your heart was still racing, but it also felt a little like the end of the world.

Their mugs were sitting empty on the coffee table. You placed them on the tray to take everything back in the kitchen and you realized that you had forgotten to at least put some cookies in a plate for them. Vampires didn’t eat much human food but it was simple courtesy to offer.

There was a spark in the air, followed by another, before flames erupted and formed a letter. You caught it before it floated to the ground. The loopy handwriting belonged to Seokjin. The first line was an apology, the second line was an apology as well. He promised to visit as soon as he could to explain and that you had every right to be angry at him. He thanked you for letting him know that Yoongi and Jungkook were safe since Yoongi had taken off in the morning before Seokjin had woken up, otherwise, he wouldn’t have let him go off in the rain. Reading his letter, the jagged edges of your anger smoothed but Seokjin would have to explain himself in person.

You picked up the tray and set yourself to tidying up. It was strange, you had lived alone for five years but the house felt emptier than ever before.

Taglist: @nochuwastaken @blancflms @rinkud @seokteoksworld

Please comment and reblog, it motivates me to keep writing!

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #vampire yoongi #vampire jungkook #witch reader #witch seokjin #witch namjoon #witch jimin

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purpleyoonn · 1 year

Text

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

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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.

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chimcess · 8 months

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→ Chapter Nine: Landscapes Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, very tame A/N: Don't know how I feel about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write. I think you'll understand why in a moment. Thanks for reading!

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Namjoon pov

I stood in the cramped boat house, the scent of Bridd lingering faintly but unmistakably fresh. It was a small concession I could offer Jimin, a flicker of hope in a sea of frustration. Hoseok had instructed me to search outside and follow the trail, a task I’d already performed yesterday. Jimin, in his usual manner, insisted on a double-check. Today’s search yielded better results; I could discern the subtle shifts in the scent. Bridd had stood exactly where I was standing no more than forty-eight hours ago.

“She’s long gone,” Hoseok’s voice echoed clearly in my mind, despite the distance between us—five miles at least. “Wonder where she went.”

“Taehyung mentioned Viridi Gramine,” Hyuna interjected, her focus sharp and unyielding as she scanned for any trace of Bridd. “Do you think she might be headed that way?”

“Doubt it,” I said, tracing the scent from a small cot on the floor to a rusty fridge. “I don’t think she was ever planning to visit our cousins.”

Hyuna mulled over this, while Hoseok wrestled with guilt. We had all chided him for it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had been able to speak to Bridd and Jimin, none of this would have happened. Apologizing for his perceived failure, the younger wolf returned to pondering Bridd’s whereabouts.

“Not far,” Hyuna mused thoughtfully.

“She could be out of Moland by now,” I said, my tone edged with concern. “I have no clue which direction she might have taken. She could be lost out there.”

The thought unsettled us all. Hoseok, knowing Bridd’s limited experience with the outside world, worried about her lack of navigational skills. Without a map, she was likely adrift. Hyuna, however, believed in Bridd’s survival instincts. If she had to fight, she could, and her shifting abilities would serve her well. Most likely, she had flown over the swamps and into Clarcton—an efficient and practical choice.

“That makes the most sense,” Hoseok agreed, his mental voice tinged with resignation.

Following her scent outside, it abruptly stopped at the small deck adjacent to the house. She must have shifted from there. We had hit a dead end. Hoseok let out a frustrated huff, while Hyuna attempted to calm him. I could now catch my sister’s thoughts, fraught with anxiety and worry. Yeong-Mi had always been prone to migraines and panic attacks; her stress was palpable.

“Shut up,” she snapped at me, her irritation clear but tinged with underlying stress. “He’s right, oppa,” she addressed Hoseok. “You can’t blame yourself. We all know who’s really to blame for this.”

Sol’s face flickered in her mind—distorted and unfamiliar. Yeong-Mi’s memory of Sol was tainted, a far cry from reality. She had no intention of facing the Luna again anytime soon, a sentiment Hyuna echoed with a delighted giggle. Hoseok mumbled something about Sol only trying to help, but none of us paid it much mind.

“Sol can’t bear all the responsibility,” I gently rebuked my sister. “Bridd still made the choice to run off.”

“If she had just minded her own business,” Mini barked, her frustration boiling over, “Bridd wouldn’t have fled! God, how could she say that to Jimin Oppa when we all know how stressed he’s been?”

“An idiot,” Hyuna snapped back, her anger flaring once more. “Between Bo, his brother, and the copiae, the guy hasn’t had a moment’s peace.”

I had tried to remain neutral but found myself agreeing with Hyuna. Sol had overstepped her bounds. Taehyung’s reaction to her misjudgment offered some solace. The boy had yet to touch his mate since Jimin’s frantic panic the night he discovered Bridd’s empty bed. Rumors of their constant arguing since her disappearance were spreading through Bangtan.

“Eun-Jin mentioned that Jimin said Bridd was heading to the Ozryn mountains alone,” my sister added. “I haven’t been around him since she left, so I don’t know the full story, but he’s devastated.”

Hoseok growled at Jimin’s name. Mini defended her favorite alpha while I reminded him of the bigger picture. Sol’s misleading information had set off a chain reaction. Jimin’s reaction, driven by incomplete information, had resulted in his current turmoil. Hoseok vehemently disagreed until Hyuna asked him how he would have reacted if he had believed she was going off to harm herself after recovering from an injury.

“She’s alone out there,” Hoseok grunted, his resolve wavering in the face of his wife’s reasoning. “He should have never let that happen.”

“It’s not his fault,” Jong-Hyun, Jungkook’s older brother, chimed in, having returned from his eastward search. “They’re both stubborn, and I doubt Bridd would have allowed him to come along. Ji-Hyun mentioned they had an argument the afternoon she left. He feels partly responsible for what’s happened.”

I growled, “That boy’s attitude is going to get him hurt. Is that why Callisto’s been even more irate than usual?”

Mini laughed, “I think that’s just how she is around you.”

We shared a laugh, the tension briefly easing. Hyuna and Hoseok had found each other, and my sister was their next stop. She was almost to Syrena, and the couple wanted to go for a swim. We declined their offer—I had no desire to be a magindara’s next meal. Yeong-Mi chose to wait with us, keeping an eye out for any elves.

I drowned out the cacophony of voices, focusing instead on the faint, elusive trail I was following. The swamps were vast and treacherous, a labyrinth where finding Bridd seemed almost impossible. Fear gnawed at me. I hoped to God she was out there, safe and vigilant, though I knew she wasn't invincible.

I sat by the murky water, staring into its depths as if it might offer some answer, until Hyuna’s voice broke through. Taehyung was looking for me. My father was worried about a group of elves spotted in the northwestern corner of Moland and needed me out of the forest. Jimin, stubborn as ever, refused to come home. Taehyung needed my help to strategize. Hyuna had looped back to meet me near Bridd’s now-destroyed cottage.

“We’re leaving him out here alone?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice.

“Of course not,” Hyuna replied, her small red form bristling slightly. “Jong-Hyun and Hoseok are keeping an eye on him. He’s deep in the forest somewhere.”

She was disappointed about their postponed beach trip but chose not to dwell on it. I tried to offer some comfort, imagining them swimming and laughing together another day, but she waved it off. She was grateful, but the thought of discussing it further would only trouble Hoseok.

“And he hasn’t found anything?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Hyuna confirmed.

As I stepped into Bridd’s clearing, the sight of the wildflowers struck me. Her garden was a riot of colors, an oasis of beauty amidst the desolation. Her cottage, surrounded by a lush garden of vegetables, fruits, and herbs, seemed almost surreal. A porcelain birdbath stood at the front, perpetually full, as though enchanted. The perfect, curated meadow seemed a divine attempt to keep Bridd from sinking into despair. Hyuna lay in the grass near the ruined house, her face etched with sadness. Taehyung had said an elf caused the damage. Bridd’s scent still clung to the remnants of her home, but it was fading.

“I wanted to go inside,” Hyuna said, her gaze fixed on the gaping hole in the cottage’s front. Her sadness was palpable. “But I don’t think Jimin would appreciate it. This is the only place that still smells like her.”

“He’s been here,” I said, noting the strong, fresh scent of Jimin. “Is he sleeping in there?”

She nodded. “I think he’s trying to fix things up. Jungkook mentioned it to Cadoc. Jimin’s obsessed with getting everything right before she comes home.”

We exchanged a look. Neither of us held out much hope that our little bird would return soon. I had more faith in Bridd’s survival skills than Hyuna did, but neither of us knew when—or if—she would come back.

Hyuna recalled her trips to Bangtan when she lived in Viridi Gramine. The Ozryn mountains were harsh, unforgiving, and lethal. Despite her royal lineage and traveling with the most skilled guides, there was always a risk she might not return. After finding Hoseok, the thought of crossing those mountains had never crossed her mind until her mother fell ill.

I had never traversed the Ozryn myself, but Hyuna’s memories sent a chill through me. Bridd might very well perish out there, and no one could prevent it. I considered suggesting that Jimin and I abandon Foxglove to search for her, but a single glance from Hyuna wiped the thought clean. We couldn’t leave the village without more information.

Bridd’s death would shatter Jimin, and Taehyung and Sol’s marriage—already strained—would likely fall apart completely. The Park family would never be the same. I desperately hoped she would return to her senses, but deep down, I knew she wouldn’t. The fierce determination in her eyes when I visited her cottage after Sol’s birthday spoke volumes. Bridd had more fire in her than Hyuna realized.

“She’s never seen so much of the world before,” Hyuna whispered, her voice as if confessing a forbidden truth. “How can she know where to go if she doesn’t even know what to look for?”

“She has maps—”

“Maps that predate the industrial revolution,” Hyuna cut me off sharply. “That girl is lost, and you know it.”

I didn’t need to say more; we were in agreement. I reminded her of Bridd’s tenacity when threatened, recounting our fight outside the cottage. Hyuna chuckled, acknowledging Bridd’s fighting spirit but still worried. When Bridd was in the infirmary, the witches had mentioned her fainting spells. How could we be sure she wouldn’t collapse out there?

“We don’t,” I admitted. “We just have to have faith. For Jimin’s sake. For her friends’ sake.”

“And Bridd’s,” Hyuna added.

“And Bridd’s,” I agreed.

A distant howl pierced the forest, signaling it was time to move. Taehyung rarely shifted anymore, so it had to be urgent. Hyuna decided to accompany me and wait for her husband at the Temple, her thoughts wandering to the prospect of confronting Sol, though I chose to ignore it.

As we neared the village, I heard the voices of the other copiae joining the search. Ji-Hyun’s loud complaints about his sister-in-law’s dramatics stood out. Hyuna fought to suppress a snarl, her thoughts simmering with anger. The younger wolf quickly dropped the subject, but my distaste for him remained. Taehyung shared my sentiments and told the Park boy to head home for the day. Ji-Hyun managed to keep his thoughts to himself long enough to change, severing our connection.

“Irrumator,” Hyuna grunted, her thoughts shifting from Ji-Hyun to Sol.

I chuckled. “He’s young. Cut him some slack.”

“He’s older than Taehyung!” Hyuna snapped. “He should know better. What he said to Bridd was out of line. How can you defend him?”

I bowed my head, conceding. I respected Hyuna enough to avoid an argument, especially with the looming threat of war. Disagreements with her would mean disagreements with Hoseok, and that was something we couldn’t afford right now.

“It’s not defending him,” I said, trying to keep annoyance out of my voice. “I just think this is a time for unity. Arguing over something we can’t change is pointless.”

Hyuna huffed but let it go. I felt a small victory in that, knowing we needed to focus on more pressing matters. Taehyung’s thoughts reflected his inner turmoil. While he agreed on the need for unity against our shared threat, he was hurt and betrayed by his closest friend’s disappearance.

Sol stirred complex emotions within me. My yearning to lead had once blinded me to her true nature. When Taehyung was chosen over me, I was disappointed, but any lingering romantic feelings vanished. I was genuinely happy for him, even if my actions didn’t always reflect it.

Sol had always been obsessed with Jimin, her infatuation apparent in her teenage ramblings. Ahn had asked me to escort her while she shifted, and her incessant daydreams about Jimin were the last thing I wanted to hear. I found myself wanting to be at her side, to lead, and her thoughts of me were less than flattering.

Sol’s heartbreak over Jimin’s lack of interest was palpable. She had desperately sought his affection, willing to overlook her mates. Jimin, though kind and cordial, had rejected her advances. I understood now, and it made sense. He was deeply devoted to another.

Sol’s life took a nosedive into chaos the moment she found herself wrapped in Taehyung’s arms. At first, confusion and disbelief painted her world in shades of gray, but soon, that confusion melted into something pure, almost ethereal. It was as if she had been in love with him all along, as if it was written in the very fabric of her being. For Taehyung, the feeling was a mirror image of hers. Before Sol, his heart had been tethered to a local girl named Minji. But love, it seems, has a way of changing the script.

Still, Sol’s obsession with Jimin was almost automatic, a reflex she couldn’t control. They were closer in age than most of us (except Taehyung), though Jimin was still seven years her senior. He was always kind and thoughtful, qualities that drew her in like a moth to a flame. When she heard he might be in danger, she rushed to his side. What she told him, which I knew only because Jimin couldn’t stop replaying that night in his head, was meant to soothe him. Yet, she shoved her friendship with Bridd aside, put her trust with Taehyung on the chopping block, and risked straining her bond with Jimin himself—all to protect his fragile heart. It would have been admirable if she’d taken a moment to think, rather than barreling into his house like a bat out of hell, spewing melodramatic, and frankly, distorted versions of the truth.

The fallout was catastrophic. Jimin’s argument with Bridd was fueled by Sol’s words. The man was already on edge. His pack of fifteen had dwindled to seven, the newer recruits too green to be of much use. Stress and frustration boiled over the moment Sol’s dramatic tale hit his ears. She painted Bridd as a suicide-bound lunatic, claiming the witch was deceiving everyone about her intentions, determined to atone for her past sins. It was absurd, though not entirely untrue, but it came from a teenage girl who hadn’t truly listened. To Jimin, all he could hear was his mate marching to her death to atone for her silence.

The whole situation with Bridd was surreal. I was irritated by her reluctance to share her visions, but that frustration faded when I realized the depth of her fear and helplessness. We weren’t on good terms. Foxglove had distanced itself, and Ahn had been vocal about his plans to visit her cottage. I couldn’t blame her for hesitating to speak up when the threat was uncertain. Ahn might have had her killed.

“He would have been a fool,” Hyuna mumbled, breaking the silence.

“When wasn’t he?” I shot back, my tone dry.

Everyone shared my sentiment. Bridd was the last person to blame. Her actions, once she understood the gravity of the situation, revealed her true care. Cadoc’s account of waking up to find the little witch, broken and bloodied, but still determined to reach Foxglove, was enough to reduce even the toughest to tears. The second her eyes opened, all she could think about was getting back to Foxglove. Any lingering doubts about her intentions evaporated. Only a few, Ji-Hyun among them, remained wary, but they were making an effort for the pack’s sake.

At the village’s edge, I parted ways with Hyuna. She gave me a brief farewell before I shifted. I was more private than the others, especially Hoseok and Hyuna, and they were accustomed to giving me space during the shift. It was my most vulnerable moment, and I loathed feeling exposed.

Bangtan had various items of clothing stashed away, none of them tailored or particularly stylish, but they were functional. My mother was responsible for keeping the copiae clothed and cared for, a job she took very seriously. It was one of the few things my father felt proud of. He often demeaned her, telling her she needed to do better, be better, spouting the same old demeaning slogans the older men in town were fond of. I could never see the faults in any of the women, especially not my mother, but she never commented on it, and neither did I.

I found a pair of large, baggy pants and shifted. After putting on the cotton garments, I decided to forgo a shirt and made my way to the Temple. Taehyung was waiting for me, and I didn’t want to add to his burdens. I felt I had done enough of that already.

As I walked through the town, I saw Jimin’s mother, Mi-Jeong, helping Jungkook’s father chop wood for his roof. The Parks were an unusual family. Mi-Jeong was outspoken, fierce, and refused to bow to men’s expectations. Her stubbornness was rivaled only by her youngest child. My own family often criticized her ‘atrocious’ behavior, but I had always been fond of Mi-Jeong.

Ji-Hyun, on the other hand, was a quiet boy, favoring his mother with his sharp features and moss-brown eyes. He followed his brother around for years without complaint. That quietude lingered into his teenage years, but when he fell for a human girl, it sparked a fierce possessiveness. He fought for her, both verbally and physically, a devotion that changed him. His attitude was often defensive and quick to judge, but his love and loyalty for his family were unparalleled, even surpassing his older brother.

Jimin had always fascinated me. From the moment he was born, he had the village at his feet. His father had been a formidable figure, embodying the strength our people revered. His choice of bride was unusual, but everyone believed Ji-Won was up to the challenge of handling Mi-Jeong. Jimin, like his father, possessed all the traits of a Park: charm, wit, courage. What set him apart was the hidden sweetness he kept from the world. I saw it. I had always seen it.

The first glimpse I got of that sweetness was when he chased butterflies in his backyard. He was no older than four, but even at that age, boys were expected to show maturity. In public, Jimin was the epitome of a perfect child. Yet, watching him blow bubbles and giggle as he chased a monarch butterfly, I knew his public persona was an act.

Now, that same sweetness was on display once more, though in a far more public and painful manner. Jimin had shut himself off, avoiding conversations and shunning his closest friends, hiding away and waiting for the other piece of his heart to return. It was a strange sight: Park Jimin, usually so strong, now weak and in agony.

As Mi-Jeong’s eyes met mine, I saw the same sadness and worry reflected in her. I hoped her family would pull together, but I doubted it would happen until Bridd returned, if she ever did. The thought of the Park family’s fate if she didn’t come back sent a shiver down my spine.

I didn’t stop to talk to anyone, as I usually did. My mind was too scattered, and frankly, I was done with conversation. A constant stream of thoughts and voices in your head will do that. Fortunately, no one seemed put off by my silence. We were all grappling with uncertainty since losing one of our strongest fighters.

“Anything new, dog?”

The voice slithered through the air, smooth and grating, a rasp that scraped against my nerves. I clenched my teeth, trying to ignore the familiar sting. With a deep, slow breath, I turned to face the source of my irritation.

Seokjin was there, of course. He had become my personal Dante’s Inferno over the past few days. The man had a grudge that could outlast a vampire’s curse, and he still hadn’t forgiven me for taking a swing at his friend. His face was a storm cloud, eyes dark with disdain. Beside him, Yoongi was a ghost of his former self. He looked worse than ever—thin and ragged, like a paper doll battered by the wind. His hair was a disheveled mess, and his once vibrant blue eyes had dulled further, his pupil barely visible.

“Unfortunately not,” I said, keeping my voice even, though I wanted nothing more than to escape this confrontation. “A few are still out searching, but I was pulled away.”

“Hmft,” Seokjin crossed his arms, a gesture that seemed to tighten the knot of irritation on his face. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped, irritation bubbling up.

I never did like much about him.

“You don’t give a damn if you find her or not,” Seokjin’s voice was thick with anger, each word dripping venom. “None of you do.”

My patience was fraying, “That’s not true—”

“It’s that bitch’s fault she’s gone,” Seokjin shouted over me, his voice cracking like a whip.

“Stop yelling,” I said, struggling to keep my composure. The scene we were causing was spiraling out of control. My father would lose his mind. “I know what Sol did. None of us are happy about it, but I’m not a god. I can’t rewind time or bring her back. What’s done is done.”

“Yet you still follow her orders like some lapdog.”

“I follow Taehyung,” I corrected, my voice tight with restrained frustration. “By extension, that means I follow his wife. We’re at war, Seokjin. I’m sorry about Bridd, truly, and I hope she’s safe, but my life doesn’t revolve around her. I have a village to protect, a village she isn’t in. I won’t abandon it to chase shadows.”

Seokjin’s face was a furnace of rage now, tears brimming in his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. Bridd was a close friend of his, and she had abandoned them—harsh words, but accurate in the rawest sense. The others had voiced their disgust when she vanished, their anger directed at our governing bodies. Sol had barred them from the Temple after one of Seokjin’s entourage had lashed out. Since that night, they’d remained cloaked in silence, not a whisper of their departure from the Park house.

“You’re going to let her die,” Seokjin’s accusation was a punch to the gut, raw and brutal.

Yes, if it meant saving my own. Bridd was a distant concern compared to the stakes at hand. I barely knew her; respect didn’t equate to prioritizing her over my sister. In this high-stakes game, I had to trust that she could handle herself and accept it.

“Jin,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tension, soft yet firm. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Let it be. Namjoon has done what he can. Let’s return to Mi-Jeong’s.”

I was relieved that Yoongi seemed more composed than Seokjin. I sneaked a glance at him and was glad to see his hair growing back, a sign he was getting enough to eat. It was a small comfort, considering the grim reality of his condition. Yoongi’s blindness wasn’t just a loss; it was a nightmare. I remembered how his pain had been described—a brutal assault on his senses, panic attacks ripping through him like storm winds. Samanya had said the spell should have killed him, and his survival, with only his eyesight lost, was a cruel twist of fate.

“But—”

“Drop it,” Yoongi said, his voice a low rumble, stopping Seokjin before he could unleash another tirade. Without turning his head, he addressed me. “I apologize for his callousness. We’re all on edge. I hope you understand.”

This was the most I’d heard Yoongi speak, even during our time at Bridd’s cottage in the Spring. “It’s not an issue. I hope you’re feeling better.”

It was unnerving to talk to someone who couldn’t meet my gaze. Yoongi’s eyes, unseeing and vacant, stared blankly at the village’s edge. His voice was gruff and monotonous, a strange contrast to the depth of the situation.

“I am fine,” he replied. “We’re here because my mother wanted to know how far you believe she could have gone. I’ll tell her that she must have shifted and lost her scent.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved by his ability to keep Seokjin quiet. “She was on a houseboat for a few hours before she left. Any ideas?”

“Thelma,” Seokjin grunted. “She must have rested and then taken off. Was anything missing?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Sorry.”

Seokjin shook his head angrily, a futile gesture.

“No need to apologize,” Yoongi said, raising a hand in a dismissive motion. It was unclear what he intended, but I chose not to dwell on it. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

Seokjin opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. I smirked, feeling a bit of triumph. Yoongi’s presence was a useful deterrent for the annoying one. Scowling, Seokjin wrapped an arm around Yoongi and turned towards the residential district, their figures fading into the distance.

Taehyung was pacing when I finally found him in the Temple library. Books were strewn across the tables like fallen soldiers, pages ripped from their bindings stacked haphazardly at the edge of a massive oak table that had seen better days. His blonde hair was a shaggy mess, the back grazing his neck while the front hung just past his ears. Thick, wavy bangs spilled over his eyebrows, so long they were kept at bay by a headband.

The sight of him worried me. Taehyung was unraveling, a fraying thread in a tapestry of stress. He managed to keep it together during the elder meetings, putting on a brave face to avoid giving Ahn any satisfaction. But anyone could see the cracks beginning to show. Jimin was doing his best to keep Taehyung from falling apart, but he had his own demons to battle.

I had taken it upon myself to pick up the slack where Taehyung faltered. I owed it to both him and Jimin after my role in their exile. Taehyung, ever the forgiving soul, was more generous with grace than Jimin. But I knew I was skating on thin ice. Others might have taken my head for the disrespect I’d shown. Jimin might have if he wasn’t so focused on keeping the peace with his mate.

I needed to focus on the task at hand. Taehyung had summoned me for a reason, and I had to be there for him. His pacing showed no signs of stopping as I entered, a bad omen for the kind of conversation I was about to have. He seemed to find a semblance of calm when we discussed strategy, a fleeting solace in the chaos.

“Sorry for the delay, Tae,” I said, my voice soft and steady, hoping to cut through his distress.

He paused, his eyes bloodshot and glossy, cheeks flushed like someone had poured a pot of boiling water on them. His lower lip quivered despite his best efforts to steady it. Taehyung’s emotional rawness was always a puzzle. He was kind, gentle, a giant child who laughed at his own clumsiness and played with his younger siblings as if he were still a child himself.

He never shied away from tears. When Jimin’s father died, neither he nor Ji-Hyun shed a tear in public, though I knew better than to believe they didn’t grieve privately. Their show of stoicism was celebrated, a mask of bravery they wore for the town. Taehyung struggled to wear that mask as seamlessly as Jimin had.

Taehyung’s father hadn’t died in a blaze of glory. No heroics, just illness. Ahn had called him weak for succumbing to an infected wound, a sentiment not widely shared but unchallenged. My own mother, a loyalist to Ahn, had called him cruel for further tormenting a grieving family.

“I didn’t realize it had been so long,” Taehyung mumbled, resuming his restless pacing.

In that moment, he looked more like his father than ever. Dong-Min had been respected and wise, but he wasn’t the sort to attract crowds. An artist from Viridi Gramine, his works were beautiful, but he remained in the shadows. He’d found his muse in Hana, who had come from an abusive home. They had fled Withertusk together, and their troubles had melted away in Foxglove.

“You’re upset,” I said bluntly. Taehyung preferred directness. “What’s wrong?”

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice cracked, the tremor betraying his tears. “I want your honesty, Namjoon. Have I done anything horrible to her?”

“To who?” I asked, stepping closer to comfort him. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, an effort to hide his pain from the world. It never occurred to me that he was trying to conceal his suffering so well. I had always misread him. He could only shake his head, eyes squeezed shut as new tears poured forth.

I wrapped him in an embrace, feeling the weight of his grief pressing into me. The last time he had cried on my shoulder was at his father’s funeral, a day when Ahn’s cruel words had cut him to the bone. Taehyung had stumbled out of the building, bleeding and torn, begging me to hold him. My father, showing rare kindness, had taken him home to clean up.

“You could never wrong her,” I said, not great with comfort but hoping my words would help. “Whatever happened between you two is just a wrinkle in time. Sol is angry with herself. She loves you, and she knows how much you love her.”

Tae sniffled, his cries muffled against my shoulder.

“Not Sol,” he sobbed. “Y/N.”

That was a harder pill to swallow. I could spout meaningless platitudes about his mate all day. Their love was a given. Taehyung had been furious with her for talking to Jimin behind his back, but I knew they’d work through it. Their bond was strong. His relationship with Y/N, though, was a different matter. I had never witnessed it firsthand, but I knew it was meaningful. Taehyung saw her as the older sister he never had, but I felt ill-equipped to guide him through this grief.

“You didn’t do anything to her, Tae,” I reasoned. “She made a choice to leave. She didn’t harbor ill will towards you. She even left you a note with your necklace. Doesn’t that say something?”

The red gem from Bridd’s gift pressed against my skin, a bittersweet reminder of her kindness. Taehyung had worn the necklace since reading the note, a gesture he hadn’t truly earned but had been given nonetheless. I had my own connection to Bridd through that journal she gave me, which had turned into a poetry book. I respected her, and that respect guided me in my attempt to console Taehyung.

“I told Sol,” Taehyung whimpered. “I told her after she asked me to keep quiet. It’s all my fault—”

“I’m done with the blame game,” I sighed, gently pushing him back to arm’s length. I gripped his shoulders. “Everyone’s been wallowing in self-pity. Y/N left to find help. No one forced her to do that. You and I both know she’s capable. Stop acting like she’s dead. She’s out there trying to help us. We need to stay focused.”

“What if she…” His voice faltered, unable to utter the word “death.”

“Then we make sure her sacrifice isn’t in vain,” I said, releasing him. “We plan, strategize, and fight tooth and nail against those things. For Bridd.”

I didn’t relish invoking her name this way, but I knew Taehyung would cling to it. Her name was a beacon of hope in this dark time. His eyes ignited with a renewed fire, the heat returning to them.

“For Bridd,” he echoed, as if making a solemn vow.

Inside, I prayed for her safe return. I was unsure how long this newfound fire would last, or what would happen if it burned out of control. Taehyung was obsessive by nature. As a child, he painted like his father, sculpted like our grandmother, and later, dived into gardening. Now, I feared his focus would be consumed by this war. He wasn’t ready for what was coming, but I had to believe in his strength.

“You should go see your mom,” I said sincerely. “I’m sure Jong and Jin miss you.”

I left unsaid my concerns about him being cooped up in the Temple since his return.

He nodded, “I will. Let one of the maids know I’ve left. I don’t want Sol to worry.”

“You’re not telling her you’re leaving?”

He frowned. “We’re not on speaking terms at the moment.”

Oh, Bridd, why did you have to leave? Why did Sol have to stir things up? Seeing Taehyung so defeated was a blow. The fire I had ignited in him didn’t soothe my worries. He was still adrift, and I feared my attempts at comfort had done more harm than good. Maybe it would have been simpler to let him cry it out. Navigating whether I’d said or done the right thing was a far more daunting task.

The day slipped through my fingers like a handful of sand, the minutes eroded by the grind of endless work. After my talk with Taehyung, he had gone off to find his siblings, while I remained buried in the heavy silence of the library. Despite our grim business of war, we still had our East Coast obligations to handle. Hours ticked by as I drafted warnings and travel advisories, scribbling frantically until my hand ached.

When the time came to face the maps spread across the tables, I hoped the change in scenery would spark a breakthrough. The library was a cavern of paper and ink, and I dived into its depths, searching for something—anything—that might tip the scales in our favor.

But the talk of war had become a cacophony of angry voices. My father and Jimin were at each other’s throats, each stubbornly clutching their own version of strategy. My father wanted to march straight into Northorn, to meet our enemy head-on. Jimin, with his uncanny knack for seeing beyond the obvious, thought it was nothing short of idiocy. He argued that the elves would have the upper hand on unfamiliar ground. Our pack knew the forest better than anyone; it was our home turf, and it should be our advantage.

Jungkook and I were on the same page, much to my relief. We didn’t want to die, but if the situation demanded it, we would. He leaned towards Jimin’s strategy, favoring a defensive stance in Bangtan. It made the most sense—until the elves found a way to stir up trouble.

The witches from Syrena arrived in the late afternoon, a storm of anger and despair. Their leader had fallen during the attack, leaving them in the care of the swamp witch. I felt a pang of sympathy for them, as they stumbled into our midst. Their rage was palpable, their grief a raw wound that bled into everything they did.

Yoongi was on my mind again. He was adjusting to his blindness, but the idea of him fighting was laughable. He was a fantastic fighter when he could see, but now he was little more than dead weight. It was a shame—he had been a force to be reckoned with, even if a spell had temporarily taken him out. I had no doubt he’d be back, even if it meant defying orders. His death, when it came, would be a dignified one.

Then there was Seokjin. He surprised me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Despite my dislike for the witch, I had to admit the man could fight. He had defended his girlfriend, taken down countless elves, and even saved his father’s life. I hoped we could set aside our differences and train together. It was crucial that we learned to fight as a unit. I planned to discuss this with Jimin later.

Before I could lose myself further in thought, I caught her scent. The sweet, cloying aroma of Sol was unmistakable, a stark contrast to the damp, cold air of the library. Her bare feet were a whisper against the marble floor, and I braced myself for the encounter. Sol’s attempt to mask her natural scent had always been a losing battle, but I couldn’t fault her for it. Ahn had stripped her of her self-confidence, leaving her to second-guess everything about herself.

She appeared before me, her small figure framed by the ornate grandeur of the library. Her hair, unbound and flowing, was a cascade of dark waves, a sharp contrast to the cold sterility of the surroundings. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with her exposure. Modesty was an old relic, but Sol had been taught its importance, and Ahn had made sure she lived in its shadow.

“Luna,” I greeted, my voice tentative. “Your hair…”

She sighed, as if resigned to my reaction. Her tone was edged with annoyance, but I couldn’t decipher why. Ahn had instilled in her a warped sense of propriety, and the way she wore her hair now seemed to mock it.

“Does it matter?” she murmured, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “We all know I’m no longer virtuous.”

I frowned. “Your virtue isn’t tied to your virginity, Sol.”

I could feel the discomfort between us, the unspoken boundaries crossed. Sol’s presence was like a weight on my chest, and I had to force myself to remain composed. Taehyung would be devastated if he caught us in such an awkward position. I stood up, putting a respectful distance between us, and turned my attention to the doorframe, trying to look anywhere but at her.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Aside from the obvious.”

I leaned against the doorframe, peering into the hall, grateful for the distance it offered. I heard Sol take a seat in the chair I had vacated, the sound of her movements marking her presence more than her words.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Sol’s voice was a fragile whisper.

“Why would I think that?” I countered, genuinely puzzled.

She laughed, a hollow sound that resonated with self-deprecation. “You’ve been a constant in my life longer than anyone. You were there before Taehyung. You and I were almost betrothed, according to my father.”

The mention of Ahn made my skin crawl. He was no father of hers. The real truth was darker—Ahn had taken her from her real parents, Cho Haneul and Bong Ha-Yun, who had vanished from the village under suspicious circumstances. Whispers hinted at banishment or worse, but I’d always taken my mother’s word that Ahn had been behind it all.

“I’ve never been fair to you,” Sol continued, her voice trembling. “I was mean, rude, and cold. I wanted Jimin so badly that I mistreated you. I’m sorry for that.”

I listened, indifferent. Sol’s words were a weak balm to old wounds. I knew her well enough to understand her manipulations, her selfishness veiled under layers of false remorse.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“You knew me before Taehyung did. I know you didn’t like me, but I trust your opinion. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her voice was weary, and I found myself disenchanted with her pleas. I reminded myself of her age and the naivety that came with it, but it didn’t soften the irritation I felt. She had made mistakes, breached boundaries, and caused chaos, all while thinking she could remain unscathed.

“Am I a bad person?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

“No,” I said firmly, though it was hard to mask my irritation. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll lie to make you feel better. You’ve caused enough damage, and it’s your responsibility to deal with the consequences.”

Her soft sniffles were a distant echo to my frustration. She had stirred trouble and failed to take responsibility for it. I wasn’t here to placate her. I was here to get through the day.

“I’m not the one to offer you comfort,” I said, turning away. “Seek solace from your maids. They’re trained to dry tears; I’m not.”

With that, I left the library, my mind already set on finding a place to rest. The Temple was no refuge from the turmoil of the day, but it was all I had. Maybe Sam would be around, and her company would be a welcome distraction. Her beauty and confidence had always been a bright spot, even if I wasn’t ready to entertain any advances. Tonight, though, I’d take any semblance of normalcy I could get.

I had no desire to return to my family home. Spending too long around my parents was like slowly going mad. The pretense I maintained with my father was exhausting, and my mother—well, she never had the backbone to stand up to him. My childhood was a grim carousel of beatings, with my mother watching, her own misery forgotten as long as she avoided the brunt of his rage. By the time Mini arrived, those days were behind us, and my father had stopped drinking. Our relationship had improved, but the bitterness lingered, festering like a wound that never fully healed. Sometimes, I wondered if I truly hated them both.

Lately, I had been crashing at Hoseok’s place. But he’d asked for some space, and I was buried in work, too tangled up to find another spot to crash. It was a far cry from the opulent room I had at the Temple, but the Temple had become a place I loathed. I’d have joined Jimin and the rest of the copiae, but the weight of my responsibilities kept me tied down. Stepping down as head council would mean my father or Bo would handle public relations, and the thought of that was enough to make me want to gnaw my own arm off. Taehyung would go berserk if those two were left in charge.

I racked my brain for other friends to stay with. The Parks would welcome me, but their home was overflowing with guests. Yoongi and the swamp witch’s families were still there, Jin’s group was with Taehyung’s family, and the Syrena witches were scattered among the wolf families and humans. They’d planned to stay at the Temple, but Sol had made a mess of that arrangement. Everything had spiraled out of control faster than I could keep up with.

“Lost in thought?” Jimin’s voice cut through my musings.

I stopped in my tracks, realizing I had wandered into the copiae grounds. Jimin lounged on his porch, a large glass in hand, his face shadowed by a dark expression. The sharp scent of alcohol reached me even from the street. I approached him, trying to ignore the tumultuous thoughts of my father.

“You’re drunk,” I observed, taking the glass from his hand and sniffing it. Mead, probably from Jungkook’s stash. “This isn’t going to help.”

He shrugged, a gesture of defeat. “I know. Just needed a distraction.”

Here I was again, being dragged into someone else’s emotional wreckage. Even if Jimin hadn’t asked outright, I knew I’d end up hauling him inside and making him sleep. At least, I could crash here afterward. Tomorrow, I’d make sure he ate something and then convince him to help me go over documents at the Temple. He was the battle strategist, after all.

“I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart,” I said bluntly. “I’ve already dealt with two sob stories today, and my patience is shot. So you’re going to let me help you, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Jimin leaned back, sweat glistening on his forehead and his hair a tangled mess. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled. I rubbed my face in frustration.

“Fine,” I sighed, “how about this: I need a place to sleep. I can’t stand Taehyung and Sol right now, and you—” I gestured at him, “—look like hell. Obviously, you’re a mess, but the pack needs you to pull yourself together so we can get through this.”

Jimin didn’t move. He remained like a statue, eyes fixed on something distant. “I’ll stay the night. Tomorrow, we’ll talk feelings or whatever. Then, we’ll come up with a plan to get you back in the game. Sound good?”

He rolled his eyes, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “What’s the point?” His face crumpled in despair. I felt lost at sea, unable to handle his sorrow. Thankfully, he composed himself, though the heaviness lingered. “What’s the point of anything? Without her... it just doesn’t matter.”

I sat down beside him, the cold, rough wood against my legs. I tried to focus on this as a conversation between friends. Jimin had never asked me for anything before. When Taehyung was chosen, Jimin had been the first to urge me to stand firm against Ahn. I had been foolish, ignoring his advice. Now he needed me to be the rock, and I couldn’t let him down.

We couldn’t keep going like this. Jimin wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and I knew the only way to get him back on track was to think of something drastic. My mind was already spinning a plan, one that had seemed hopeless earlier, but now felt like a desperate gamble. Maybe, just maybe, giving him a glimmer of hope might help him pull himself together. Feeling a pang of guilt, I decided to go for it and face the consequences later.

“I know you’re hurting,” I said, trying to soften my tone, unsure if it worked. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. When you and Taehyung were gone, the guilt nearly ate me alive. It must be worse for you.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he started to protest, but I brushed it off.

“I think I do. No one else seems to be,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re in deep trouble right now, Park. We need you.”

Jimin shook his head. “I wouldn’t be much help right now, Joon.”

“I don’t believe that,” I replied. “Honestly, anything you do would be better than the mess you’ve got going on. And by the way, your girl’s on my side. She’d be furious if she knew how much you’ve been slacking.”

That made him chuckle softly.

“That’s fair,” he said, a wan smile spreading across his flushed face. “She’s such a little firecracker, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “She once tried to set me on fire.”

We shared a laugh, remembering that day. Truth was, she scared the hell out of me. If she had really wanted to hurt me, she could’ve. I’d barely escaped with just a few scratches and bruises. Jimin had beaten me senseless when she got hurt, but I had a lifetime of memories that made me untouchable. Bridd, however, was another story.

“What if I made you a deal?” I asked, catching his attention.

He perked up. “What kind of deal?”

“If we make it through the next wave on top, I’ll help you find her.”

His eyes sharpened, a flicker of hope lighting up. “Really?”

Guilt twisted in my gut. I didn’t truly believe we’d reach that point. The elves were everywhere, their grip tightening on Northorn with each passing day. We were far from ready, and with traitors in our midst, the situation was dire. The alliance with the quietus was fragile, and the witch problem was something only Jimin could fix. It could be weeks or even months before we could search for Bridd. Still, I had to use her as leverage. We needed strong leadership, and the witch was the best motivation I could offer.

“I’ll go with you,” I said, doubling down. “We can take a small group. I’ve got connections with a quietus who knows the lay of the land. Finding her could be straightforward.”

“You’d do that for me?” He looked genuinely surprised.

I nodded. “If we’re in a position to do it, why not?”

I watched as he mulled it over, the distant look in his eyes dissolving into something clear, almost serene. He was on board. Hope unfurled in my chest like a fragile flower reaching for the sun. With Jimin on my side, dealing with Taehyung would be a breeze. The older alpha’s desire for redemption would give us a leverage, and if Jimin and Taehyung could join forces, we’d have Hoseok back in the mix too.

Things were starting to tilt in our favor. Soon, the elementals and witches would be joining our discussions, the elder council would be edged out by a new generation of leaders, and the war would start to feel like something we could actually manage. I might even be able to recruit a fresh wave of warriors to the copiae once the village saw Jimin’s renewed determination.

“Stay here as long as you need,” Jimin finally said, and I was doing a mental victory dance. “You can crash on the couch.”

I sprang up, ready to hit the sack, and gave his head a playful shove. He chuckled, swatting my hand away. We used to mess around like this all the time as kids—Jimin always had a knack for winning our wrestling matches. He was slippery as an eel.

“Let’s go, kid,” I said, stretching my arms above my head. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow. Council meeting.”

He nodded, reaching out for my help to stand. He must have imbibed more than I realized; it took a lot for alcohol to hit us this hard.

“Hopefully, Taehyung will deal with the two ancient relics in the Temple,” he slurred, stumbling inside and mumbling about how his bed felt like it had swallowed him whole.

A/N: So Joon pov??? How do we like? He's not the only pov switch we're going to have, but we will be seeing a lot of our favorite (to hate) alpha joining our main squad. I thought he would be a good outside mind to get inside of since he's not as emotionally connected to Bridd as the others. Any guesses as to who our other switches might be?

p.s. These pov chapters will be a bit shorter than our normal, reader pov ones, but not by much.

Taglist: @greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz @chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

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bittertarot · 10 months

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Mlt to have the most public relationship in bts🙃

Thanks 💋

BTS MTL Public Relationships;; Namjoon : *The Sun Reversed* - Absolutely not, he would hate the idea of going public. He feel like it would bring him and his partner a lot of negativity within their lives and cause depression/sadness for either side, it could even cause a potential breakup due to delusional fans or just hatred towards his partner. He'd try to avoid going public at all costs! Jin : *Justice Reversed* - Instead of a clear yes or no, I always interpret Justice whether reversed or upright as a solid maybe. It depends on how him and his partner feels, as he does not wish to be dishonest with his fans. However, he does not want to be unfair towards his partner by only doing private dates late at night. He wouldn't be sure how to handle it till a point came where to HAD to make a decision. Yoongi : *Knight of Pentacles Reversed* - Nope, never, hell no. He'd find it exhausting and would feel like obsessive fans, mainly sasaengs, would never let him feel at peace. It'd be the worst possible thing he'd have to do if there came a moment where he was forced to. It would just make him utterly miserable as he knows the consequences/what would happen if he went public with it. Hoseok : *King of Cups Reversed* - Another absolutely never. This would bring his mood down, he'd feel about tricking his fans but if he had to, he would try to gaslight/manipulate his fans if they picked up on something that could even hint to his relationship/the identity of his partner. He's very protective and only wants him and his potential partner to be happy (what a sweet guy.. :'] ) Jimin : *Wheel of Fortune Reversed* - Like Jin, he's another maybe. A 50-50 chance. He would have to see how things work out, how his partner feels, how he thinks the fans would react to decide. His gut feeling would have a bad feeling about announcing it, though. He'd definitely want to keep it under wraps if he can. If forced to make a decision, he would need time to think and a lot of time, too. Taehyung : *The Magician Reversed* - No, he would not. He would prefer tricking his fans and feeling more out of touch with them than risk exposing his partner to the public, he'd be very cautious to ensure fans have no suspicion at all. I feel like his partner would be a very private person, too, and would not want to be exposed to the public. Jungkook : *The World Reversed* - Even in reverse, I have always interpreted The World upright + reverse as a yes. He would be the most vocal about it when/if given the chance and if his partner would be alright with it. He'd want to tell the whole world about them and would absolutely love to rub it in the face of his fans like "they're mine, I'm theirs, we're such a cute couple." Definitely the type to show off his matching couple pajama sets, jewellery, etc LMAO In conclusion, MTL : Jungkook, Seokjin, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung That's all for this reading, hope you enjoyed! <3

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sundoyoongi · 5 months

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ABOUT ME

My name is Sun, I'm Brazilian and I've never shifted yet, but I've been in the community since 2018/2019, I'm completely passionate and obsessed with attack on titan, I'm 18 years old, my pronouns are she/her or he/him :p

What i like—

aot, levi ackerman, resident evil, silent hill, bts, star wars, shifting, goth culture, withcraft, hellenism, greek goods, animals, nature, music, jjk, stardew valley, got, tlotr, hp, my candy love, nerdy things in general

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taevbears · 1 year

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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

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xoxo-suki · 7 days

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Comment if you have specific BTS members in mind for your particular preference of the trope. Alternatively, send me anonymous asks if you'd rather not comment!

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magini0 · 10 months

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Kimset - (II)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

Genre: Witch AU, Soulmate AU, Ex's to Lovers, Angst With a Happy Ending

Summary: Jungkook has until the next Witching Moon to develop a cure for his chronic illness. With his race against time, he really doesn’t have the nerve to be constantly pestered by his old coven mates—whom he had left behind after a mission gone wrong. Back as a famous healer and sponsored by a renowned magical society, Jungkook is ready to do what it takes to survive. Now, if only his former coven would back off and stop being so damn persistent in making up for their old mistakes…

Word Count: 16k

Also accessible on ao3 => Here Previous Chapter => Here Next Chapter => Here

The sound of clapping filled the room like an encouraging symphony, the student at the podium trying—yet failing—to hide their smile at the favorable response to their inquiry. Kim Yugyeom, a face Jungkook hadn't intended to see again in his life. Yet again, he hadn't intended to see any familiar faces when attending this university. A thought he didn't want to dwell on; he had barely managed to push the subject away this morning. He had gotten dressed and rushed off to present his inquiry to his fellow students and the MCA association currently present.

After all, your inquiry had to be approved before you could actually start. The university's board of education and the MCA would then score your presentation; the higher the score, the larger your funding pool would be. How exactly the scores were determined was yet to be defined; publicly, it was described as a completely unbiased procedure and criteria; however, it was clear that even in the magical world, influences could come from anywhere.

Corruption was truly the only one unbiased. It affects everyone.

The sound of heavy auditorium doors opening shifted his attention from Yugyeom's presentation. The aspiring witch's inquiry consisted of finding a caladrius and further studying the bird's supposed healing properties. Jungkook barely knew anything about mythical beasts; he had never been very good with animals nor very interested. But he did know that caladrius were rare and practically extinct. That was why the university board was so approving of the inquiry, considering that if Yugyeom's mission was successful, it would benefit the university itself.

But all that seemed to simmer into a lingering thought when his eyes locked onto the sight of a sitting, silently brooding Jimin, arms folded over his chest as he observed Yugyeom's presentation. Even to the untrained eye, the blonde witch appeared tense. Shoulders pull back slightly more than what was considered casual, mouth etched into a slight frown. Jungkook hadn't meant to stare; he wasn't a part of Jimin's life anymore. The thought was supposed to console him, but in reality, it only fueled the sinister ache inside his chest.

Jungkook hadn't actually gotten a look at any of his old hyungs this morning, having gotten dressed and heading for a quick escape out the front door. He didn't want to face them. Perhaps it was the naive hope he clung to that he could simply avoid them for the remainder of the year.

But even at the sight of Jimin simply sitting in the auditorium, Jungkook realized that his ambitions were rather hopeless. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't keep his gaze focused. How could he? Look away from something— someone he had hoped to see for the past six years.

"Jimin!" Taehyung's hushed voice called out, light and happy.

The brunette sneaks up behind Jimin's brooding form, snaking his arms around his neck and pressing a few gentle kisses against the other's cheek. Jungkook watched, with an untold heaviness, as Taehyung trailed around Jimin's seat—the witch was sitting at the end of an aisle—before plopping himself in the still vacant seat beside the blonde. And Jungkook's gaze lingered with an untold masochism as Jimin's unhappiness melted away. The earlier locked jaw pushed out an exhale, the previous frown turned into a smile, and those chilling eyes took on an expression entirely too fond.

Jimin leaned forward, cupping Taehyung's cheek and pressing their lips together. It wasn't an all-too-sensual kiss, considering that neither of the two witches could push down their smiles long enough to kiss properly. But it hurt.

It hurt so much.

But the worst part was that it still hurt to be hurting.

As Jungkook sat down aisles ahead of them, partially to remove the temptation to further damage himself by glancing back, the world around him grew distant. The loud, projecting voice of Yugyeom drowned out the applause that would follow a particularly enthused statement. It was all gone, distant. Although present, Jungkook wasn't really there.

He was somewhere else entirely, a place with rhythmic ballads, self-playing violins and cellos as witches danced tangos and waltzes. He recalled the night vividly, their first festival at the academy, celebrating the Veilweaver's Moon in all its glory. But Jungkook didn't remember the night over some planet in the sky—no, he had gotten something most precious that night. That night, he had his first kiss.

He had felt so jealous.

Jealousy.

An adjective with different meanings, but in this case, it could be defined as feeling fiercely protective or vigilant of one's rights or possessions. Only Jungkook didn't have a right over what he was jealous of; after all, he didn't own Jimin.

The witch was his own person, and Jimin had always been like a bird prancing in the wind. Free. It hadn't bothered him before, quite the opposite; in all of Jungkook's coolly constructed and scheduled childhood, Jimins adventurous nature was like a breath of fresh air. He had adored it. But watching as Jimin, his sweet Park Jimin, dance with another oddly stung. The rational part inside Jungkook pleaded for an audience inside himself, trying to explain that Hoseok was Jimin's soulmate. They all were soulmates; it was unreasonable to feel how he felt.

But that didn't change the fact that he felt it. He felt greatly, wave upon wave crashing against each other like tsunamis pushing against his heart—his soul. Seeing Jimin laughing, eyes creasing, and teeth on display. Nose occasionally scrunching up, his own giggles distracting him enough to misplace a step or two within the dance. Jimin looked so gosh damn happy.

Those smiles used to belong to him.

The sight was too much; it fueled the insecurities inside himself like gasoline thrown into a bonfire. It provided a speaker to that voice inside his head that insisted he wasn't enough. Jimin was like the sun, warm and giving. And Jungkook felt himself become inadequate to be basking in its soft glow.

It was why he had left the event in the first place; the academy's ballroom had seemed so endless when everyone had come together to decorate it. Marble tiles stretched out, meter-long windows reached for the curved ceiling, and a chandelier reflected light off of its glass embellishments and jewelry. It had been beautiful. It still was.

Only now, the room felt suffocating. His own jealousy wrapped around his throat, body, and soul before it squeezed. Everything felt inconsequential; the classical music sounded distant, washed out as if underwater. The chatter surrounding him drowned alongside the music, nearly mimicking a language he chose not to understand. All he could focus on was them. Hoseok and Jimin.

They looked perfect together. Hoseok was similar to Jimin in ways Jungkook could never be. A realization that made the phantom noose around his throat tighter, unyielding in its pursuit to torture him further. Although Jungkook barely bothered with any of his other soulmates, from the little interactions he had shared with Hoseok, the older male carried a similar chipperness to Jimins. Once, during breakfast, Hoseok had reduced Jimin to a pile of wheezing laughter, the kind that hardly made any noise at all.

Jungkook was rarely ever that funny.

But it wasn't until the halls began whispering about how Jimin and Hoseok were the perfect couple, how the soulmates were so clearly made for each other, that birthed the intensity of his envy. At first, he made nothing of those words; they were idle chit-chat students murmured to pass their time with senseless gossip. No one knew Jimin the way he did.

But seeing them dance, Hoseok's hand tauntingly resting against Jimin's waist. Laughing so beautifully, a thought—realization—skipped across his mind.

Those students had been right.

"Kookie?"

Jungkook sniffled, shoulders hitching up as the voice seemed to protrude his little moment of solace. He had left the party nearly twenty minutes ago; instead, he sought asylum in the academy's library. Aisles were replaced by extended bookshelves, reaching so high up to the ceiling a sliding ladder was against each shelf. They weren't used often, mainly by first years who hadn't learned the proper spell yet to simply pull the needed book towards oneself. There was a second floor that took the shape of an O, leaving a gap in the middle to peer down at the stretching wooden desks available to students. Narrow but long windows decorated the west side of the room, and small cushioned ledges made the window sills most desirable.

The sun rose in the east and set in the west, casting the library in an orange hue that made everything look golden. Jungkook sat against the windowsill, legs pulled against his chest and back leaning against the wall that separated this window from the next. He had watched the sun die against the horizon, replacing the warm sky with something cold and encompassing.

A small thread of irritation lit inside him; the night had gone horrible; no, the week had been an accumulation of utterly shitty events. So why? Why couldn't he at least be left to sulk in peace?

The entire week, Jimin had been distracted with the others, helping Namjoon with his cultivation, Jin with cooking duty—It wasn't even Jimin's scheduled date to help—and herding the griffin babies together with Hoseok. For an entire week, Jimin had spent time with the others instead of him. Even Taehyung, their rudest covenmate, was teaching Jimin how to spray paint. Or Yoongi, who had offered to tutor Jimin in herbology. Jimin hated herbology, but all of a sudden, he was its biggest fan.

It's only been a month since the two of them came to the academy, thirty days since the six red strings knotted to his finger found their destinations. He hated it.

Hated that he hadn't been bunked with Jimin and instead got Taehyung, a rude riff-raff wannabe who had cussed him out for placing his suitcase on 'his side of the room' only thirty minutes into their introduction. To put it simply, he vehemently disliked the edgy artist. He was irascible and unpredictable, a potential danger to Jimin, if not only a bad influence. His other soulmates were more bearable, but he wasn't really interested. He had Jimin; the two were a team. Not a group or a party—it was them against the world. No one else.

But Jimin was so eager in his utterly loving nature. It wasn't even surprising to Jungkook how quickly the rest of them fell for the bundled-up sunlight that was his hyung. Who wouldn't fall in love with Jimin?

He knew he did. He had loved him instantly.

A bundle of nerves had taken place inside his chest like all the strings inside his soul became knocked. A painful tug erupted within him whenever he saw Jimin smile for one of them—the same way he used to smile for Jungkook

"You should be at the party, hyung." He murmured, voice hoarse in a way that made him cringe. He didn't need prying eyes against his crying figure. His own gaze was still cast out the window, taking in the colors of the sky as if he'd never see the sunset again. Perhaps not meeting Jimin's gaze right now was his own weak attempt at preserving his already bruised pride.

"I would," Jimins voice trailed off as his footsteps approached the window. Slowly, Jimin's figure sat down beside him. Immaturely, Jungkook refused to look at him. Sniffles still occasionally betrayed him, prompting him to wipe at his wet cheeks rather irritably with his pulled-up sleeve. "But my soulmate isn't there." Jimin finished.

"One." Jungkook muttered bitterly.

"What?"

"One of your soulmates wasn't there." He clarified, his own jealous bitterness sinking into his tone. Tainting it with his anger. "You seemed to be having fun; who knows—maybe Namjoon stopped dancing with Seokjin? Or maybe Taehyung's free. You seemed to be all for bad boys lately."

Jungkook felt guilt spread through him at the sound of Jimin's sharp intake of air, the silence between them adding invisible weight to his chest and shoulders. He felt foolish and immature for his feelings. It wasn't Jimin's fault for wanting to spend time with his very own soulmates; it was normal. Good even. Jimin shouldn't fall victim to his envy.

If only he could tell his feelings that.

"Oh Kookie…" A hand rested on his arm, thumb rubbing softly against his uniform. Still unable to meet Jimin's gaze, the irrational fear of finding a look akin to pity kept his gaze outside. Where the night choked out the colors in the sky, stars began to peek through, and the moon began to show.

It wasn't until he was pulled into a hug, arms wrapped around him in familiarity, that forced his defenses to lower. Because this was his Jimin, his sweet little sunlight. And unlike the sky, Jungkook would keep its light blazing within the sky for an eternity.

That night, Jungkook's lips had pressed against Jimins for the first time. He had savored the taste and feeling of those lips against his in an empty, closed-off library. It was simple, sweet, and innocent. A type of kiss that, with Jungkook's inexperienced eagerness, left their teeth hitting against each other's, resulting in some breathless giggles. Jimin's hands had cupped his cheeks, pacing Jungkook gently as the two soulmates grew closer. This was simply one of the many firsts Jungkook would give to Jimin.

Watching the sunset filled Jungkook with an irrational sensation, a collaboration between fear and dread. Jimin was like the sun, but what if he, too, would set in Jungkook's world? What if one day, his world would become just as dark and obsolete as the night sky.

The sound of clapping bid Kim Yugyeom goodbye, the witch-polished smile somehow seeming unfamiliar to Jungkook; he had always known Yugyeom as a completely genuine person, seeing him plaster on something so fake threatened his nose to scrunch up in distaste. Jungkook didn't know Yugyeom anymore.

With a quick glance around, anybody could practically sense the anxieties and tensions in the air. The constant rustling of clothes being tugged and rearranged, legs bouncing up and down rhythmically, the sheer restlessness nearly seeping into the other magicals auras. Everyone was nervous, well, almost everyone.

Walking up to the podium himself was, admittedly, a little nerve-wracking. Jungkook wasn't shy; the thought of strangers silently evaluating him didn't really bother him. What irked him was the knowledge that they would be watching too. An observant gaze lingering against his skin, something that would've left a trail of goosebumps across his skin in a welcomed way, now became all too unwelcomed .

A strange sense of urgency lingered inside him, bubbling like an overflowing cauldron as he walked up the small steps. He wasn't sure if it was his pride or hurt ego at their presence, but Jungkook wanted to show off. He was feeling petty. A part of him so desperately wanted to shove it into their faces that he was doing good without them. That he had and was successful after their separation. However, a nagging little voice inside his head wasn't necessarily certain which party he was trying to convince. Them or himself?

Clearing his throat, he finally stepped up to the podium. Head held high, something Balam drilled into him before reaching the auditorium, posture straight and confident. A polite, practiced smile tugged at his lips. Jungkook knew that the university sought him out specifically due to his achievements during his apprenticeship; if successful, Jungkook could bring the establishment glory.

“Hello, I am Jeon Jungkook.” He introduced himself politely, with a small bow to his introduction. This was standard procedure; not many witches actually strived to complete the seventh level; it was an extracurricular in the magical world—one with benefits he was more than eager to reap. Glancing around the room, the smell of wood and carpet filled his senses. The auditorium was clearly as old as the university itself, large and glorious as it took on a circular shape. Instead of a flat ceiling, a large dome covered the structure. Before the stage, three rows of seats stretched to the back of the room, only separated by two narrow aisles lined with an extravagant red carpet. Its high, vaulted ceilings are adorned with intricate frescoes, and towering columns line the periphery between the windows, further creating a sense of grandeur. Rich, polished dark wood paneling and plush velvet drapes added warmth to the sophisticated space. Again, the fact that this university reminded Jungkook more of a castle was a theory evermore confirmed the longer he observed.

Candles floated above their heads, no doubt there to provide everlasting light. Something entirely unnecessary at the moment due to the walls of the auditorium bearing long, narrow windows that kissed the edges of the dome ceiling. Natural morning light flooded the space. It felt oddly bright, silently waking even the still drowsy students. The sky was a clear, untainted blue. Making the small glimpses outside even more captivating, the nature surrounding the university was just as mesmerizing as its interior.

"Throughout my apprenticeship, I studied Astrobiomedicine under the guidance of Kwang-sun with the pseudonym JJK." He paused, swallowing down the temptation of his lips to turn crooked—a smirk begging to contort his practiced feature and reveal how much he reveled in the small gasps and murmurs within the room. Ah, he had nearly forgotten how famous JJK had gotten.

"Throughout that time, I have managed to leave a more positive footprint on our community. With supported inquiries, guidance, and dedication, I was able to develop aid and cures in the Astrobiomedicine field." A smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes as the small dopamine of praise washed out. A strange—no, familiar feeling began blooming inside his gut. As if Balam could feel it herself, she nudged her head against his leg. In her cold stare, she encouraged him to go on.

"One of my first achievements under Kwang-suns guidance was by making witching flu medicine more available for everyone; this was done by replacing newt syrup—we all know how arduous it is to get a hold of that—" A light-hearted joke escaped him, a desperate attempt to have the audiences own amused chuckles lift his own spirits. Save him from his own gnawing thoughts. It didn't work. "With the widely available thistle." He concluded, smiling politely at the clapping that interrupted his presentation.

A traitorous thought escaped him. Were they impressed?

"Throughout my second year under Kwang-sun, I modified the pre-existing medicine for Draemori Flux with a specifically cultivated flower found on the peaks of Mount Chelopee, previously endangered and now being reintroduced into our ecosystems. Successfully extending the life expectancy of those diagnosed for approximately twenty years." Another wave of clapping finished his sentence for him, the strange feeling inside his gut and chest growing nauseating.

"During my last year, I worked with Kwang-sun and my team to develop a cure for Faerune Fever, a disease we are most aware of that is fast, rapid, and deadly." A small whooping noise followed by, again, intruding applause made Jungkook pause. The voice of the praising noise sounded familiar, but Jungkook suddenly didn't want to boast anymore. He felt uncomfortable, and the smile he should be wearing felt like the hardest thing to maintain at the moment.

"Throughout my apprenticeship, I wanted to remain as true to myself as I could be. One of my goals has been, and always will be, to give back to my community." The sinking feeling inside his gut grew claws, howling and hissing inside himself as it clung to his heart painfully. "Therefore, as my inquiry for my seventh level, I have taken it upon myself to develop a cure for Nexus Entropy."

Encouraging clapping fills the room as Jungkook ends his presentation, bowing politely as he exits off the podium. The eager looks, the chattering about selflessness, and the fond look surrounding him make Jungkook sick. Without a word, Jungkook leaves the suddenly suffocating atmosphere the acceptance of his inquiry brought him. Breathing unevenly as he wanders outside, seeking asylum on a nearby bench.

Closing his eyes and gulping down his growing emotions, Jungkook focused on leveling the overwhelming amounts of emotions he felt. They weren't strange; he had grown used to them, but perhaps he was surprised by their frequency since arriving at the university.

The sight of the school board and MCA holding up a small paddle with the heavy, glowing numbers of a bold ten burned themselves into his mind. A ten. The highest score one could get. He had gotten full funding. And yet, Jungkook sat on a wonky park bench, trying to even his breathing. Slowly, the monster inside his gut reveals itself.

Guilt.

It swallowed him whole because he was the only one who knew. Jungkook had never been selfless. He had never done anything purely from the goodness of his heart.

Jungkook was doing this for himself.

"Do you know who I'll be sharing the laboratory with?" Judging by the sun and the lack of students roaming the halls, it must've been around lunchtime. The sun was high in the sky, merciless as always, forcing the lounging students in the courtyard to seek shelter underneath the inviting shade of the trees planted around the grounds. It looked peaceful, nothing but idle chatter and a still-warm breeze delicately shifting strands of hair. Perhaps if Jungkook wasn't feeling so cowardly, he would've gone and searched for Yugyeom, taken that time to catch up with his old friend—a strict understatement considering how inseparable they were during their academy years— yeah, Yugyeom had been his best friend.

But after they returned from the Deep before graduation and split up, Jungkook had sought refuge in Yugyeom's arms. A few days had passed, and Jungkook had made up his mind to leave everything behind. Although Yugyeom knew the most, Jungkook left him behind, too. With a hug and a vague, I'll be alright , was all Yugyeom had for the past six years. As if the earlier guilt didn't gnaw holes into his constitution already, the endless uncertainty regarding his relationship with his old friend tormented him regardless. Yugyeom would have moved on, too.

Before attending the university, Jungkook was aware of how much had changed. None of them were kids anymore; he wasn't an innocent, naive first-year who read about happy endings anymore or, the sixteen-year-old with immense temperament issues, or even the seventeen-year-old who felt nothing but love and devotion regarding his coven. Glancing around himself, now more than ever, Jungkook could see the past six years, from immature teenagers to the adults that now sauntered the halls looking to fulfill a great witches purpose.

"Why do I even waste my breath talking when you aren't even listening? Honestly, it's like talking to a wall sometimes." The sharp tone of Balam's chiding tugged Jungkook back into the present, the sound of his footsteps echoing lonesomely amongst the halls. Balam, as elegant as always, didn't even make a peep.

“What?—Ah, sorry Balam.” Pulling his gaze from the windows, he glanced at the disapproving look from Balam before shifting entirely against the opposing wall. Closed, wooden doors, each labeled with a letter and number indicating which laboratory one would find behind it.

"Tsk, if you're going to ask someone something, at least have the common courtesy to listen for their answer." Balam paused; she had a small habit of doing that between scoldings, perhaps to give whoever was on the receiving end to actually absorb the lecture. "Like I was saying, I don't know who you're going to be sharing the space with."

"But why do we even need to share a laboratory with someone? It could invite all kinds of trouble, like accidental contamination—or they could just be distracting and—"

"Will you stop? You'll drive yourself crazy in the first week alone at this rate. Every laboratory is shared between two people, partly because of convenience but mostly for socialization." Balam finished, a tone filled with finalization that didn't leave Jungkook any room to argue. It's not like he had any.

"Ah, here we are. Room B013 that'll be your laboratory." Balam stated, tail swaying casually as she watched Jungkook nod before opening the door. The sight was pause-worthy, at least for the young witch who stood stunned by the doorframe. Balam walked idly between his legs, a smugness to her gaze as he sauntered inside and hopped onto one of the black marble counters. Beginning to groom herself dutifully.

The laboratory was a large space, a silent worry of Jungkooks deminishing as the space could easily fit two magicals. The walls were a creamy white, contrasting with the deep mahogany of the windowsill and framing. Two large, ceiling-reaching windows gave the space a good amount of natural light. For the actual workspace, there were long rectangular islands made out of a marbled black stone. Material like that could withstand certain chemicals; no doubt why the university chose such a heavy surface in the first place.

To each side of the room, hugging some free space against the walls, was a display case. Walking over and opening the case, Jungkook marveled at the sheer amount of vials, cylinders, and other equipment waiting to be used. Looking around, he didn't mind the slight unevenness of the floorboards. The university was old, and although he was sure certain spells kept it maintained, age was something irreversible.

The space was open, not as homely as other aspects of the castle, but this was a laboratory. It wasn't supposed to be overly decorated or warm, places like these never were. But Jungkook found himself comfortable, which was rather important considering how many hours he'd be spending within this room. He should get to work.

Setting his bag down on an empty chair, Jungkook began familiarizing himself. Grabbing an empty notebook and taking inventory of what was available already, having found a section of dried-out herbs on a shelf on the south side of the room. It was important to note what he already had and what he needed to order, although there were rare oddities he would need to cultivate himself. He had sent Balam off a few minutes ago to check the greenhouses for thornvine—a plant that would only grow in October—making it important for him to know in case he needed to cultivate some of his own.

"I should've known you'd be in here."

Spinning around on his heels, Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his old friend, Kim Yugyeom. Now that he wasn't mentally preparing himself to present in front of an audience, Jungkook silently looked over the way Yugyeom, after all this time, hadn't really changed appearance-wise. Still, the same straight black hair parted to the side and loose, comfortable clothing. The only noticeable difference was that Yugyeom wore light, natural-looking makeup. Small dabbles of highlighter and eyeshadow extenuating his already soft features.

What do you say to someone you left behind?

Although the sight of Yugyeom warmed his heart, feeding it with a bittersweet nostalgia that threatened to tug a crooked smile across his lips. Sweet because he and Yugyeom were like two peas in a pod, they understood each other. Unlike Seokjin or Namjoon, Yugyeom never tried fixing Jungkook. Not because he wasn't worried or approved of Jungkook's delinquent tendencies but because Yugyeom had faith in Jungkook. Because, unlike anyone, Yugyeom understood where the aggressive behavior came from. Yugyeom knew that one day, Jungkook would move on. So on days when Jungkook would hide out from his Hyungs after having gotten into another lone fight, lord knows how fussy they all could get, lip busted and bruises forming above his cheekbone, Yugyeom would let him in and simply listen. He wouldn't touch or coddle, ask a hundred-and-one questions, scold or reprimand him—no, Yugyeom would continue playing on his computer, waiting for Jungkook to talk if he wanted to.

Jungkook hadn't wanted to for a while.

He would sit by the window, beanbag, or bed, and simply exist for some time. Waiting for Yugyeom's accepting personna to break, for the other to finally realize he wasn't going to get some juicy gossip from Jungkook and move on. Only Yugyeom never did. Not when Hoseok came knocking on his dorm door, asking about him, and Yugyeom convincingly lying about his whereabouts. Covering for him over and over again. So one day, sitting on Yugyeom's bed, back leaning against the white wall the bed frame was pushed against, knees to his chest, and fingers idly picking at some of the scabs covering his knuckles. Jungkook talked, and Yugyeom had listened.

So, how do you talk to someone you left behind six years ago? Fully expecting and accepting, never to see them again?

"What, not gonna say 'Hi' or anything?" Yugyeom's mused lips curved upwards in a kind smile. A smile so strikingly familiar, that Jungkook felt practically unworthy to be basking in its warmth. Just moments ago, Jungkook was reminiscing about how everything in his life had changed without him, and there stood Yugyeom, again , standing utterly unchanged before him. Still, the same buoy that kept Jungkook afloat all those years ago.

The prompt got Jungkook out of his momentary stupor, hurriedly fumbling over his words as he tried narrowing them down to just one sentence. Thousands of questions plagued him all at once, wanting to know so much while simultaneously apologizing for even more. Fortunately, Yugyeom seemed to have mercy on him once more, filling the room with a genuine laugh at Jungkook's fumbling.

"What? You can't be surprised to see me; you presented your inquiry right after mine, after all." Again, Yugyeom carried a smile that reminded Jungkook of the Cheshire cats, only less mischievous and more amused. And Yugyeom's question wasn't wrong; he wasn't surprised by his presence but by the fact that Yugyeom was actually talking to him. Yugyeom should be mad at him; he'd have every right to , he thought deprecatingly.

"Well, I just didn't think you'd, well," Jungkook paused, gesturing with his hand, "come find me." He concluded, sigh heavy on his tongue.

Yugyeom's smile dwindled at his words, the sight reminding him of nyctinasty, a rhythm that allowed plants to open and close depending on the time of day. Although his words were unorganized, watching them have such a horrid effect on Yugyeom made them feel terrible. Without much hesitation, Yugyeom walked over slowly, methodical in his steps before pulling Jungkook's still-tense body into a hug. They stood like that for a moment, Yugyeom's arms wrapped around Jungkook, a type of hug that felt just so encompassing, warm, and protective. Yugyeom was hugging him like he used to. Jungkook's arms worked on their own, wrapping tightly around his old pillar in life, hand carefully clutching the knitted material of Yugyeom's warm, marbled-looking sweater. His head disappeared into the crook of his neck, mostly to keep Yugyeom from seeing the watery shine to his eyes, inhaling the subtle scent of citrus still clinging to his friend. A perfume oil Jungkook had gifted Yugyeom for his seventeenth birthday.

A comfortable, emotional silence spread throughout the room. Distantly, one could hear a bird chirping, singing softly to itself as it landed in its nest, tucked against the outside windowsill along the left window. Sunlight shone through the windows, its light subtly spreading heat wherever it touched Jungkook's body. The two simply held each other, wordlessly making up for lost time.

"It's really good to see you again, Jungkook," Yugyeom murmured into his shoulder, and even without seeing the other's face, Jungkook knew he wasn't the only one choking on his feelings.

Jungkook wasn't exactly sure how long they stood like that, either party unwilling to release the other. Perhaps, in a silent fear of losing the other for another six years— or maybe even forever. They didn't say anything; however, the room never ceased to actually quiet, whether that was for the birds singing or occasional students passing down the hall or the pure liveliness of the castle itself that kept the room from ever really feeling silent.

It nearly forced an ironic chuckle to escape Jungkook as he recalled one of the first things that had pulled him towards Yugyeom in the first place. No matter what, the quiet had never felt uncomfortable. Maybe that's Yugyeom's true specialty. Jungkook mused to himself, hands subconsciously tightening their ghostly hold on his friend.

But just like any moment, this one had to leave them too. Jungkook struggled between saying too much and simultaneously not enough, apologies prancing at the tip of his tongue. But he also wasn't sorry. For leaving them, for distancing himself after they left him. However, in his pursuit to feel nothing, Jungkook accidentally lost what he still had.

"I'm sorry." A croaked, emotional voice broke the silence.

Yugyeom chuckled, but Jungkook could hear the heart behind it. Somehow, Yugyeom had grown emotional too. But it wasn't anger like Jungkook had expected, nor resentment or aloofness. Perhaps it was because Jungkook found none of that—that Yugyeom still looked and embraced him with all of his flaws, that really broke the nonchalant facade Jungkook tried so desperately to maintain.

"I don't know for what in the world you could be sorry for, Jungkook." Yugyeom mused, a delicate sing-song voice that made his words just sound so easy. So simple.

Maybe Jungkook simply was just a masochist, someone in strict denial that his actions would go unpunished. Because in an instant, Jungkook didn't hesitate to remind him. "For leaving you, for not contacting you, for disappearing for the past six fucking years—"

The discouraging tutting noise from Yugyeom quickly shushed Jungkook's feeble attempts at self-sabotage. The older male pulled away from their hug, instead cupping both of Jungkook's cheeks and forcing the spiraling witch to gaze back at him. “Jungkook, I understand . You needed to get out, to leave and collect yourself. At your own pace, in a place of your choosing." Yugyeom reminded, as if the barebone intentions had escaped Jungkook in the midst of all this chaos.

"I knew that one day we'd see each other again. And when that day happened, I told myself that I'd greet you like the friend you always were." Yugyeom's voice shifted from serious to one lighter in tone, filled with fondness. "And here we are, nothing but old friends getting to spend time together once more. I'm really happy to see you again, Jungkook; you've been up to quite a lot, haven't you?" Yugyeom teased, letting his words wash over Jungkook as if his unconditional affection was only a mist against Jungkook's skin and not a complete and all-consuming wave crashing against his fridged heart.

Jungkook hadn't even realized it himself, when exactly his heart had grown so brisk and glacial . Uncaring and detached from his past. But being with Yugyeom again, in an occasional silence that never once felt overbearing, melting at the sheer love that still endlessly poured from the other. Jungkook felt himself slowly thawing, begrudgingly accepting that Yugyeom was something of his past he didn't want to let go.

"I know I let you pace our conversations yourself, but I am dying to know what you've been up to. Besides being a famous physician and all—which I'll get to later, don't think I'll let that one go." Yugyeom began, pulling away from Jungkook and instead hopping onto one of the working surfaces in the laboratory. Dangling his feet carelessly.

Jungkook smiled at the shift in tone and Yugyeom's tendency towards the dramatics. Jungkook found himself sitting beside his best friend, talking about the past six years. About how he had met his Halmoni, about the rather—abrupt adoption into Chae-wons family. Helping out in the bookstore, dealing with angry customers and dodging flying books, even tutoring. A fond tone edged his words as he described Jung-so and how Jungkook looked forward to seeing the little witch grow.

Along those lines, Jungkook skipped his diagnosis. Not necessarily intentionally, but mostly due to the fact that he couldn't bring himself to ruin the fond smile that had etched itself onto Yugyeom's lips.

"What I don't understand is why you went with medicine, like—you hated herbology, biology, any of that stuff. You hated it because your parents forced you into it; the Jungkook I knew cared more about which colored paints to pair with which because apparently there's this entire color theory thing—" Jungkook couldn't help but laugh at Yugyeom sidetracked rambling. The chuckles got him a huff from the other and a playful nudge against his shoulder. "Anyways, what I'm saying is, why Astrobiomedicine?"

Ah.

Jungkook hummed, acknowledging the question as he tried to formulate his words. Eyes suddenly glued to the floor, legs swaying before stopping altogether. The truth was unwelcoming, cold, and bitter; the reality sunk into one's skin like poison. If Jungkook could, he would spare Yugyeom of it. The inevitable truth is that Jungkook would die sooner rather than later.

"A year after I left, after we graduated and went our separate ways." He began, "I started feeling ill. My magic, well, it grew weak. I couldn't feel it like I used to, had to focus more when I needed to pull on it, and eventually it began hurting when I did." Jungkook vaguely recalled the nights spent trying not to hyperventilate when his undiagnosed symptoms would appear. How he would gently palm and rub on his chest to try and soothe the ache away, trying to convince himself it was lingering soreness from an earlier activity. But it wasn't until the shadows appeared that Jungkook sought help.

A pregnant pause, a shaky breath, and Jungkook continued. Eyes clouded as he talked, body present but mind far away, recalling in vivid, gruesome detail what he had gone through. "The pain—the pain, it got so bad eventually, like someone was sucking the mana out of me like I could feel my magic die inside of me. Felt my body go absolutely haywire, trying to mend itself. Using what little mana I had available to subconsciously attempt to restore myself. But using magic made it worse, and the pain intensified. It wasn't—it wasn't until I started coughing blood that I went to see a healer."

Jungkook hadn't realized how weak his voice had gotten or how Yugyeom had pulled him close and into his side. Rubbing small circles into his back like little incantations meant to soothe him. Jungkook hesitated because he didn't want to say it. Saying it made it feel so real . It invited the fear he tried so hard to suppress to consume him, body and soul.

"I was diagnosed with Nexus Entropy."

Yugyeom didn't have to say anything. That quiet, quivering breath spoke volumes.

"How—" Yugyeom visibly struggled to ask; the sight plunged Jungkook's heart from its roots. He didn't want to make Yugyeom say it; to ask him that question, everyone eventually narrowed his condition down to.

"How much longer do you have?"

"By the end of the year—" Jungkook couldn't meet Yugyeom's gaze but reluctantly looked into his best friend's eyes. He could see the teary reflectiveness threatening Yugyeom, and all it needed was the catalyst Jungkook was about to provide.

"By the end of the year, I'll be dead."

Jungkook had until the next Witching Moon to figure out a cure, or else JJK would have been a prodigy.

The sound of the front door unlocking and Jungkooks shuffling inside filled the space, a long, exhausted sigh escaping him as he removed his jacket and hung it onto the nearly filled coat rack. Sliding off his shoes and slipping into a comfortable set of slippers, glancing at the remaining ones. It was always easy to tell who was and wasn't currently home simply based on the amount of house-slippers left. Two pairs were still there, which unfortunately meant for Jungkook—one-third of the coven was present. With everything that had happened today, presenting his inquiry, reconnecting with Yugyeom, talking about his diagnosis, Jungkook felt drained. Emotionally and physically, he had nothing left to give. It was worse enough that his supposed safe space wasn't a place he could recharge in either, quite the opposite actually; Jungkook had rarely ever felt such dread .

He was good at distracting himself, diverting all his attention and energies to certain subjects or jobs to the point that nothing else was able to occupy him. Somehow, Jungkook had even managed to push the topic of his exes away, too. Beside his feet, Balam yawned and stretched out her front paws, arching her back in a dramatic gesture. The sight made Jungkook slightly guilty; unlike all the other familiars who had been allowed to rest alongside their witches throughout the day, she had opted to stick by his side. Today was supposed to be easy.

"Balam, why don't you head to my room already? I'll just go and eat some dinner first." He suggested, glancing at the Siamese cat spirit beside him. She looked skeptical, and he wasn't exactly sure what persuaded her: the thought of sleep, Jungkook entering his dormitory space instead of hiding, or perhaps Balam was able to decipher the fact that Jungkook wanted some space. Either way, Balam nodded and sauntered her way down the hall and into his room.

Jungkook walked alongside her until they reached the living room, momentarily getting paused by a small pomeranian with mixed-colored fur circling his legs excitedly. Jungkook had been a little surprised to see the dog until he quickly recalled that this must be one of the other familiars. In Jungkook's rush during the previous night to escape the others' prodding stares or simple presence, he had failed to notice the company of any other familiar besides Balam. A part of himself wanted to be a bit immature; the need to nudge the dog away with his foot and move on nearly made his leg tingle. But the other familiars weren't responsible for their witches' actions; it wasn't fair to let his frustrations out on the spirits.

With a tired smile, he kneeled down before the hyper dog. It's tail wagging wildly, sniffling at Jungkook's outstretched hand. “Hello, I’m Jungkook.” He introduced, amusement twisting his drained expression into a more genuine one. Talking to the familiar was apparently like opening Pandora's box.

"Hello Jungkook, I'm Yeontan! But I go by all kinds of names, like Tannie, or if you wanna be really formal with me, you could call me Kim Yeontan. But I don't really like it when people call me that—So Yeontan, or maybe Tannie? No, I'll go with Yeontan. Call me Yeontan!" The pomeranian spirit babbled, his tiny tongue slightly hanging from his mouth. A small, quiet panting accompanied Yeontan's excitement.

But before Jungkook could even utter a word in response, the admittedly cute pomeranian shot back instantly. "I've heard a lot about you; I mean—he won't shut up about you. I wasn't listening very much, but soulmates! Isn't that romantic? It's very romantic, oh gosh, it's kinda like candy. We should go get some candy—"

"Yeontan!" The sharp, scolding voice from Seokjin contained the chipper dog; the other witch must've come from the kitchen if the amusing, pink with white polka-dotted apron didn't speak for itself. Yeontan listened, pausing his train of thought and remaining seated in his spot—well, trying to felt more accurate. The little dog shifted on its feet, swaying between the left and right front paws, tail swishing hazardously against the floorboards. The thought that this might be Seokjin's familiar flashed through Jungkook, but it was rather odd, considering how different the two were based on his outdated knowledge. Soekjin was an earth witch, different from a green witch like Jungkook—who dealt more with energy—earth witches could literally manipulate the ground around them. Although it was stereotypical to assume all earth witches were low maintenance, Seokjin did carry himself with a very grounded nature. At least, that's what Jungkook remembered.

"Why don't you tell the others that dinner is going to be ready soon?" Seokjin suggested in a soft tone, but a quick glance at his expression gave the hyper pomeranian the idea that his suggestion wasn't debatable at all. But the dog didn't seem deterred by the command, excitedly nodding its head and trotting down the hall. The soft patter of the familiars paws and nails tapping against the floor gradually disappeared into another room.

But with the sudden absence of the overzealous spirit, Jungkook so desperately wanted him to return. He didn't want to be alone with Seokjin, not with any of them, actually. The pause between them stretched, and unlike his earlier interactions with Yugyeom, the quiet between them was heavy against his shoulders.

"Uh, is Yeontan your—"

"What? Oh, no." Seokjin chuckled; the sound was happy, even if he looked a little relieved. "No, that familiar belongs to Taehyung."

Taehyung?

The thought of the old academy Taehyung, more delinquent than student. The witch who would bite and bark at the slightest hint of coddling, who complained about anything slightly outside of his apparent agenda. Who was too cool for bright colors and cutesy stuff, being paired up with a small, hyperactive, easily enthused fluff ball? Unwillingly, the thought made Jungkook's lip curve upwards.

However, it did remind Jungkook about the sheer amount of time he had missed. Recalling the soft colors Taehyung was dressed in last night, the way his style had changed from rough-and-rugged to a well-put-together, although easy-going, student. Exactly how much had Jungkook missed from Taehyung's growth? The small, vague smile that had crossed his expression disappeared. A cruel, intimate feeling of being robbed slowly took shape inside himself. Growing vicious, more dominating the longer he thought about it—

"Come, I made Bibimbap." Seokjin successfully interrupted Jungkook's spiraling, even if it was just for a moment. The older witch spun on his heels, walking back into the open kitchen. The space overall was very open, besides the two corridors that led off to the bedrooms and bathrooms. The kitchen was off to the far left, raised a step from the rest on a wooden platform that expanded to the dinner table. The only thing that mildly mimicked a wall between the kitchen and dining room was a long marble island. Then, the floor lowered a step or two and made room for the living room. Two couches rested on the now carpeted floor in an L formation around a coffee table. The space was wide and open, with potted plants and large windows, making the space oddly homey but exclusive. Again, another reminder of how loaded the university was.

The seducing scent of Bibimap wafted through the space; glancing at the counter, he noted the already prepared namul and signature gochujang paste being set off to the side on the counter; the meat still seemed to be sizzling inside the pan. Which is what Seokjin had hurriedly returned to, back now turned to Jungkook as the elder stirred the cooking meat. Bowls of white rice, another with eggs and other dishes to serve as toppings filled the space. It kept Seokjin distracted, allowing Jungkook to lean against the island counter. Arms crossed over his chest, gaze painfully observing the sight of Seokjin cooking.

Jungkook distantly recalled how when he released the glimmerkins in beastology—the study of magical beasts—he had gotten detention and a date with the Headmaster, where he was promptly trialed without having gotten to eat dinner. Originally, Jungkook did it purely to prank the new first years, glimmerkins were ghastly little beasts who caused chaos wherever they went. What hadn't been part of the plan was for the glimmerkins to team up on one first year in particular and hang them from the ceilings chandelier. Or splash an entire group with blue eldertwine ink, an ink that was derived from a wilted twine root and was completely waterproof—subsequently staining both faces and uniforms. Or for the glimmerkins getting into the bestiary pens and releasing the Nixalopes and Gryphalos.

Yeah, Jungkook truly learned the extent of how mischievous glimmerkins were that day. But despite the scolding he had gotten from both the dean and Headmaster, along with his hyungs, Seokjin still loathed the idea of Jungkook going to bed hungry. Which is what had led them to sneak into the kitchens after curfew; Seokjin easily navigated the space, considering how often he volunteered to work cooking duty and made Jungkook a serving of bibimbap.

Returning to the present, Jungkook fought the bitter feeling of wonder as he watched Seokjin cook. The taunting, daunting curiosity of what if. What if Seokjin was making bibimbap because it had been Jungkook's favourite?

Jungkook had to stifle both a scoff and grimace. Since he had reunited with the others, he was uncertain which emotion he felt more. Blinding, engulfing anger, or all-consuming sorrow. As if Seokjin could feel Jungkook's burning gaze against his back, the elder attempting to fill the silence with idle chatter.

"Yeontan and Taehyung seemed to be really close already; I wouldn't be surprised if the two actually formed a proper spirit bond. Though, my familiar is a real cutie too; they're—"

"Is this what we're doing now?" Jungkook interrupted with a badly hidden snarl, distaste and frustration evident in his tone. "Pretend like nothing happened?" anger . The pendulum dancing between hurt and anger stilled for a moment, and like those cheap magnetic knock-offs human kids would get to try and predict the feature; Jungkook's internal pendulum stopped spinning over his anger. The kindling had been lit earlier, and now Jungkook had a fire inside himself itching to burn.

"Bunny—"

"Oh please, spare me the informality, Seokjin-sii." He watched as Seokjin inhaled at the formal address, and a sadistic satisfaction watched over himself at the twisted expression it earned him when the elder turned off the stove and turned to him. Untying the apron, folding it before setting it onto an empty space along the counter. Seokjin, like always, seemed to be taking his time formulating a response.

"What was the plan here, huh? Act like nothing happened? Like I just went on a dainty little vacation, and now we can all go back to playing family again?" Distantly, Jungkook could hear chatter down the corridor halt. The others, although he was uncertain on who , had become aware of the confrontation currently occurring. Of course, in an open space like this, there wasn't much room for privacy besides in their own separate rooms and the two bathrooms. Good, let them hear. Jungkook thought bitterly.

"Although, it seems you guys already did that. How long did it take for you all to get back together? A week ? A month ?" Jungkook's voice was mocking, and although he knew he'd feel remorseful for letting his own anger singe other people, a part of him wanted them to hurt, even if their pain was insignificantly narrowed compared to his.

"We're not together." Namjoon's voice injected, walking up to Seokjin and standing only a meter or two away. Body leaned against the sink, arms crossed, as he calmly looked at Jungkook. It was those signature, composed expressions that really irritated Jungkook. Because he was feeling it all at the moment, and before him, one of the six causes to all this turmoil and mess, was a man who had the gall to look so unphased?

"Namjoons right, we aren't all together like we used to be," Jimin added, standing by the dining room table with Taehyung. Although, Jimin's expression contorted into one of—remorse? Sadness? Jungkook didn't linger on it.

"I don't give a flying fuck who you've all decided to fuck or not; my point is that you don't get to address me so casually anymore. We aren't friends; I'm not your bunny ," A sharp glance towards Seokjin, "Or your Kookie , I'm your roommate. Don't call me out for dinner, or lunch, or any other domestic little spiel." Venom laced Jungkook's tone, and he could feel his own magic simmer and boil underneath his skin. He could feel it pulse, submerging some parts into his aura, subconsciously signifying how absolutely volatile Jungkook felt at the moment. He could see the witches in the room react, inhaling sharply or quiveringly. What infuriated him more was that Seokjin or Jimin didn't even have the nerve to meet his gaze.

After all, Jungkook's anger and pain were the product of their betrayal.

A sudden but hesitant tug on his finger pulled Jungkook's fury away from Namjoon and Seokjin. One of the red strings tied to his pinky tugged once again until he met Jimin's remorseful gaze. The blonde's eyes were teary, lip seemingly bitten raw, and hands a little restless with nerves. It was clear, but Jimin had a contorted expression that the witch was holding back tears.

"Jungkook, please , I–" Jimin's quivering, raw voice was cut off by Taehyhung.

"We're sorry. I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

It wasn't enough; two words would never make up for how Jungkook was hurting. How he had been left behind , how the unwanted jealousy coursed through him in dangerous, turbulent waves. Threatening to take what little restraint, what morality, he had left under with it. It wasn't fair ; it wasn't fair that even if they didn't have all of each other, they still had some parts of each other.

Had they honestly expected him to stay and keep contact after everything that had happened? The mere thought made a cold, bitter scoff escape him. Expression twisted into a small sneer, Jimin lowered his gaze at Jungkook's response, suddenly seeming all too interested in the shiny, laminated floorboards. Taehyung, always the prideful one, did not divert his gaze. But the brunette's expression was filled with remorse, a glassiness to his eyes that threatened to make Jungkook feel guilty.

But the longer the silence filled the room, the less wind there was to fan Jungkook's flames. Slowly, he loosened his hands. Not having noticed exactly when he had balled them into fists. His nails have dug into his skin, leaving red, slightly irritated crescents indented into his palm. The pain, although as cynical as it was, grounded him. Inhaling, the sound of sucking breath into his lungs, only to eventually let out a vulnerable breath filled the otherwise barren room.

Jungkook's eyes flickered over to Namjoon; the older witch had his arms crossed over his chest. But unlike Seokjin, who also had his arms crossed, Namjoon looked like he was shielding himself while Seokjin was practically hugging himself. It was the sight of Seokjin's glistening cheeks, reddened eyes as the oldest cried unabashedly, that somehow derailed Jungkook from his tyrannical warpath. Because why was Seokjin crying? After all, it was them who hurt him . The only person currently allowed to cry was Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Bun, Kookie—”

"Jungkook." Jungkook's tone was sharp in its reprimand, but the sound of his old nicknames from any of their lips felt like salt in the wounds he already carried. He hated it, hated how vulnerable Seokjin sounded, how much sorrow and sheer regret was tainting his aura.

The sound of Seokjin sucking in his breath, gulping audibly as the elder clearly tried to swallow the choked sound of a sob down. Grimacing and contorting his face to control the wobble of his lips, the sight was enough to make Jimin's muffled sniffling more auditable, too. The sight and sounds somehow managed to irritate Jungkook further, the threads tied around his pinky tugging uselessly. The souls inside themselves weakly calling out for reconciliation.

But Jungkook wasn't going to reconcile.

Eventually, in the suffocating atmosphere of the room, Seokjin found his words, perhaps with the gentle help of Namjoon, who had started rubbing circles onto the weeping witches' backs.

"Kook—" Seokjin inhaled, hurriedly trying to amend his mistake at Jungkook's sharp glare. “Jungkook, I’m sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I've hurt you and—"

"Why?" Jungkook prompted, turning his full attention to Seokjin. Back now turned towards Jimin, the witch's downcast gaze desperately trying to avoid contact with the world. Ah, when had Jungkook's world turned so melancholic?

He had never wanted this. He had never wanted to be so sad. He never intended to spread that sorrow either.

"Why? Why are you sorry, Seokjin? Was it because you left me?" A choked-down, heartbreaking sound escaped Seokjin's lips. The elder hurriedly cupped his palm over it, hiding his fully trembling lip and runny nose. Eyes squinted with tears, yet the witch refused to look away. Jungkook wasn't sure what motivated him to go on, maybe, in the most twisted parts of himself; did it feel good to see one of the people who hurt him feel even the slightest amount of what he's been carrying for the past six years. Or, perhaps it was also a combination of adrenalin from actually having this confrontation that didn't let Jungkook relent in his sadistic pursuit to shed tears.

"Why?" He prodded further, voice whispery yet mocking.

"Jungkook, that's enough—" Namjoon tried cutting in, realizing how this conflict was escalating. The sight made Jungkook snicker because where was that motivation when everything was on the line?

"Was it because you didn't even look back? Or, maybe how you didn't even fight it?" He prompted, taking a step closer.

"Jungkook, stop. Let's calm down—"

"Hmm? Come on, Seokjin, tell me what you're sorry for. Was it because you knew how much our coven meant to me? Or, was it because you knew how much I lov—"

"Because I failed you!" Seokjin finally cut Jungkook off, voice loud and booming, but it cracked at the end. Raw with emotion, with pure, unfiltered desolation .

And the gusto inside Jungkook dwindled, and for the first time since, he had been reintroduced to his past. Felt the mockingly familiar pull on the red strings uniting them; the bulwark that had been protecting what little face he had left relented. Hot tears threatened his waterline before falling down his cheeks and kissing at the bottom of his chin. No one dared utter a word; the only sound was the sniffles, hiccups, and weak attempts to downplay the depths of their shared agony.

It took a moment for Jungkook to find his own voice, shoulders trembling as his gaze turned downcast, too. Gulping down a sob, he nodded.

"Yeah, you did."

"All of you did."

Before his knees could collapse under his weight, the heart in his chest suddenly felt miles heavier than it ever had. He turned around, desperate to preserve what little dignity he had left, and retreated to his room. He swayed, tears making his vision blurry as he swung open his door and nudged it shut behind him, the bang unintentional and imposing. In some ways, the bang signified, or rather— felt , like the means to an end. An odd, somewhat relieving feeling spread through him as he dived face-first into his mattress. Arms swinging around his pillow, face pressed into the downy as he finally let sobs wrack through his body.

Because finally. Finally , he was able to tell them. He was able to say it to them.

His coven hadn't just left him. They hadn't just misused his trust, hadn't just broken his heart—They had failed him. In every sense of the word, they had let him down to shatter amongst the floor. But Jungkook had time—six years, to be specific—and within that time, had pieced himself back together.

He'd be damned if he ever let them break him again.

“Mr. Jeon?”

Perking up from his spot in the waiting room, Jungkook glanced at the nurse standing by the hallway closest to the front desk. Raising his hand, the woman spotted him quickly, a friendly but stale smile plastered onto her lips as she tucked a brown clipboard against her chest.

“The doctor will see you shortly; follow me, please.” Her voice was honeyed, but it was something Jungkook was used to by now. Nearly every nurse he’s met was sweet, voice usually soft, not always in tone—but in nature.

Sitting up from the uncomfortable waiting room chair, he always tried to avoid touching the small cushions patched on the base and back of the seats. They were always in different colors depending on what hospital you went to; in this case, they were a faded pink. But it wasn’t the color that made Jungkook cringe slightly; it was that fake, leathery texture. Of course, he understood why it was that specific texture. They couldn’t go for actual fabric since it couldn’t be cleaned easily; authentic leather was expensive and shouldn’t be cleaned with harsh chemicals, either. Therefore, fake leather was the best option. But that didn’t change the fact that Jungkook disliked it, the texture, and the hackneyed appearance. Maybe it was so because the only time he’d ever had to sit in one was when he was in the hospital.

At this point, Jungkook was no stranger to any hospital. No matter the location, they all worked on the same principles. The only thing that was ever different or mildly difficult was finding the damn floor you were supposed to be on.

But Jungkook had managed; he always did. Standing up, smiling a timid but kind smile to return the nurse's politeness before promptly following her.

Hospital hallways were always eerie; he wasn’t exactly sure what contributed the most to its unsettling atmosphere. It could be the pure whiteness of practically everything: the stale gray vinyl flooring, the off-white, sometimes cream-colored walls, the haunting pattern of your footsteps. The sound was hard to explain in hospitals; it was usually quiet, unsettling as one dangled from their own anxieties, but when there was noise, it was loud.

Whether that noise came from an incessant EKG monitor or the vital sign monitors that practically start screaming when a value is off, to the minute details, such as grabbing a set of gloves from the glove compartments hung against the walls, unwrapping medical supplies, moving machinery around on unoiled wheels, and the constant pacing footsteps of nurses flying around like busy bees.

But Jungkook preferred that, preferred the noise over the silence any day. Which is why he hated his sessions so much; the kind nurse guided him down the hall before entering a room. She let him enter first before plugging a set of gloves from its respective box before checking his vitals, jotting them down, before giving Jungkook a moment to settle.

Jungkook sat at the edge of the hospital bed, not yet wanting to lay down on the thin mattress. There was a process to this he had grown accustomed to; first, the nurse would check his vitals, then he’d wait— that following silence taunted him with gruesome ambition. Then, the doctor would arrive, observing the progression of Jungkook's health and determining the speed at which he was actively deteriorating. Then the doctor would leave, and silence followed before a nurse pushing a heavy, modified centrifuge entered. Lastly, Jungkook would dance with unconsciousness for approximately four hours until the Satan spawn was removed from his arteries.

The entire process had made Jungkook so incredibly anxious the first time he had done it, but his Halmoni had been there with him. Holding his hand, fussing over him, and eventually taking him down to the bakery across the street when he was done, those moments filled him with a gentle warmth because he hadn’t ever asked Halmoni for any of it. They weren’t even related, but the old witch saw something within him that Jungkook might not ever see. But she loved him, and in all her disorganized glory, Jungkook loved her, too.

It was that very love that prompted him to grow more silent over his festering condition. Why he had eventually asked her not to accompany him anymore because seeing the sheer amount of sorrow in her old gaze whenever the doctor confirmed his worsening symptoms and not the desperate hopes she clung to about his improvement made Jungkook take care of his diagnoses independently.

He couldn’t stand the sight of her spirit and hope dying alongside him.

Jungkook hadn’t changed doctors before, but he couldn’t exactly make the ten-hour trip back to Busan for every appointment or check-up; that would be an absolute hassle; besides, he had an illness to cure. He couldn’t necessarily afford many distractions, and he needed to consume what little energy he had left for his research. He couldn’t take time off once every two weeks just to get an apologetic look and poorly hidden pity from a doctor or nurse three towns over. So, Jungkook allowed his primary provider to share his medical history and current treatment plans with this new doctor.

A knock on the door, followed by a gruff sounding “Mr. Jeon?” Was the only warning Jungkook got before the doctor entered. The woman seemed to be approximately in her late thirties, visible tiredness hanging from the slight discolouration underneath her eyes. Hair tied into a bun, with curtain-like bangs poking out and framing her face. Sharp, pointed ears sported elegant but subtle jewelry, making a bold guess Jungkook might assume the doctor was a fairy. Based on the pointy ears, the natural grace with which she sat down, and the purely calming—settling aura she gave off.

It was a stereotype Jungkook wouldn’t admit to socially. Still, it was relatively common that fae, witches, fairies, and elves focused their attention on healing and the general health of the magical society. But Jungkook couldn’t necessarily refute that stereotype, considering that he’s a part of it.

“I’m Sook Geumseong, and I’ll be your doctor for the foreseeable future. I have taken a look inside your medical history and treatment plans sent to me by your previous doctor, Mr. Jee.” Jungkook nodded absentmindedly, trying to snap out of the taciturn mindset he always entered when in a hospital. It wasn’t his fault ; he didn’t want to be here, after all. It was simply easier to nod and drift off than currently be present.

Geumseong nodded, making a slight hum as she spun in those small half-stools with wheels at the bottom. She typed a few curt sentences into her computer, the soft clicking of the keyboard doing little to put him at ease.

“Any new symptoms that have occurred within the last two weeks?” She asked, gaze now locked onto his. Suddenly, Jungkook got the impression that Geumseong was a very efficient person.

He nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat as he pulled up his sleeve. There, against his pale skin—an unfortunate side effect from his illness—stood imposing black veins along his left wrist. That morning, when Jungkook had been woken by his alarm and Balam. He had nearly refused to leave his bed; the temptation to hide and sulk within the comforts of his downy fortress was impossible, especially with Balam swiping at his face.

The freshness of his confrontation with Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung stuck fresh in his mind and body. Brain-wracking senselessly over everything he had said, over everything he hadn’t said, or everything he could’ve said. Body, an accumulation of relief, heaviness, and bitterness, and an odd sense of guilt . Because throughout the jumbled mess, he could still hear Seokjin choke on his sob. Blinking, Jungkook could see Jimin's reddened cheeks and raw-bitten lips. And although it had somehow fulfilled him during that moment, Jungkook hadn’t felt satisfied.

Seeing Jungkook's hyungs, his old lovers , in pain didn’t relieve his own. It didn’t mend the six years spent sulking and healing, bandaging wounds that had just started scabbing over. Seeing his hyungs again, they’ve all been reopened. But yelling and spreading more grief didn’t help him in finding more bandaids or bandages, and it didn't provide him with a sling or crutch. It just left everyone aching, and Jungkook felt so tired of hurting.

It was the sound of a knock, knuckles hitting against the wooden door, that prompted him to sit up. For a moment, tense and nervous that one of them would enter. Jungkook couldn’t afford to lose the little safe space he had left. But that didn’t happen; the sound of someone clearing their throat was slightly muffled against the wall between him and whoever was outside.

“I—I’ll leave your breakfast outside. I know you said not to call you for breakfast or anything, but—well, you didn’t eat dinner, so—” Jimins voice mumbled, rambling on as Jungkook could practically picture the blonde wringing out the end of his shirt nervously as he talked.

It was the short, hiss-like voice of Yoongi that he could distantly make out. “Jimin, let him be now!”

Balam had perched herself back on his desk, tail swaying as she glanced at the door before back at him. It amused Jungkook because if she could, she’d probably be scowling with a raised brow at their behavior. It also reminded Jungkook that their late-night fiasco must’ve been passed on to the two absent witches.

It was good to know Yoongi still understood and respected personal space as much as he had done back then, too.

But Jungkook hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps padding away, only the silence as he anxiously waited for any sound to indicate Jimin's departure.

“There’s so much I want to say, Jungkook I—”

“Jimin!”

A pause, the sound of a sharp inhale, and ruffling outside the door followed.

“Have a good day, Jungkook. Drink lots of water and stay hydrated, yeah?” Jimin finished, the subtle sound of defeat infiltrating his tone before the sound of footsteps told Jungkook of Jimin's departure.

Once Jungkook was sure Jimin and no one else was in the hall or nearby, he opened the door. Gawking at the tray that stood before him, a small bowl with what he assumed to be miso soup, steaming gently beside another small bowl of rice and a side of banchan. He picked it up, kicking the door closed gently behind him with the heel of his foot. Walking over to his table, he sat the tray down. An uneasy feeling settled inside his stomach, making him subconsciously gnaw on his lip piercing. Along the tray was a folded piece of paper, folded in half, the cardstock material stood up. It was noticeable and a part of him dreaded the message that could be written on the note.

“Breakfast in your room?” Balam questioned, but that tone of her voice gave hint to her subtle disapproval. It was clear that although she encouraged Jungkook to take his time with handling his situation, she didn’t necessarily approve of his hiding habits.

Nodding numbly, Jungkook felt conflicted. Somehow, it felt as if accepting the meal would also be him accepting the small gesture of apology. But Jungkook didn’t accept their apology, no matter how exactly their remorse was shown.

Letting the food sit on his desk, he eventually grabbed the note meant for him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, stomach tied in knots, Jungkook was about to fold the paper open properly when a spine-curdling sight crossed him. There, where his hoodie hiked up at his movements, showed his wrist, but unlike the usual assortment of small blue, green, or maybe purple veins, now stood in terrifying vividness—thick, black veins. The dark lines faded into his palm, most prominent around his wrist and a little down his forearm before fading. They were spreading.

Jungkook knew what this meant, but it was such a rapid change from two weeks ago. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? Grabbing the end of his now rolled-up sleeve, Jungkook roughly pulled the fabric back up. Covering the sight, he leveled his breathing. Perhaps it was his own fault to be so caught off guard. He had noticed the gradual change in his skin; once tanned and healthy-looking, it had now grown pallid and dry. That happened weeks ago. The note, now long forgotten, fell beside him onto the mattress as he jumped to get ready.

Which is how he had found himself here, sitting in front of his doctor, Geumseong, slowly rolling up his sleeve. He didn’t even notice the chill all hospitals came with like usual; no, his body was cold. A part of him wasn’t sure if that was a byproduct of his fear and anxieties or another symptom. Presenting the disturbing sight of black arteries replacing his blue ones. The doctor didn’t need to say much; the subtle, sharp intake of air was enough.

This wasn’t a good sign.

“Have these appeared anywhere else?” Her straightforward, authoritative voice questioned.

Shaking his head, he watched as a small flicker of relief flashed within the doctor. But it was quickly replaced with what he assumed to be pity; they both knew what this meant.

“We’ll have to double your treatment plan, replace it from every two weeks to one.” Nodding, Jungkook let out a long, tired sounding sigh.

“You’re all set, Sir; take as much time as you need.”

The dizziness eventually diminished, that signature odd tingling leaving from his fingertips and feet. The debilitating weakness that would usually follow faintness gradually said its goodbyes and the signature ding from his phone alerted Jungkook to a notification.

Reaching out to his phone, he managed a weak smile at Yugyeom's text notification. Upon their last meeting, the two friends hurriedly exchanged numbers. Jungkook still felt in slight shock, or rather, disbelief, that Yugyeom held no resentment or reclusiveness towards him. No, it was like he and Jungkook had never parted.

Yugyeom:

“Has your appointment finished? I’ll pick you up! Mark suggested we go to Enchanted Brews. The café just opened up, and since you’re in town right now, I thought we could eat lunch?”

Smiling slightly, the message reminded him of the café visits he’d indulge in with his Halmoni. Besides the old witch and Yugyeom, no one knew about his condition. In some ways, it was comforting to have his closest friend be there for him. It filled him with a fluttery, light warmth, similar to when one would get to bask in the warmth of golden hour. It felt good.

Somewhere in this cold body of his. There was a subtle warmth. Similar to when the meadows get covered in a layer of thick, frosty ice. Making a once lush field plane, berron, and monotone in its white colors. But then, as the first primrose pokes its head out to greet the warming air. Jungkook, too, felt something bloom subtly within him.

Jungkook:

“Just finished; I'll be outside in a minute.”

It was bizarre, the feeling of knowing someone was waiting outside the hospital for you. It made the lingering smell of rubbing alcohol and sterilizing cleaners escape his senses sooner. Slowly lifting his body in an upright position, he slung his legs over and off the hospital bed. Waiting a moment as if to challenge the dizziness to return before he slowly stood up. Patting down his pockets—these appointments always made him so forgetful—before heading out. Back down the hall, past closed-doored rooms.

A lingering thought washed through him as he walked—as if the very words he formulated were written in sand. Will I die here—among these sad, dreary walls of white? Although most of his wardrobe consisted of black, Jungkook loved color. The vibrancy of life was stunning, a combination of pure, raw beauty that had no benefit to gain from its resplendent nature. What did the sky gain from painting the heavens? When a bunny hops between the blades of a thriving meadow, what does the grass gain from its rich shade of green? Or the poppies from their dying red?

Color was a sign of life, and when Jungkook walked along these erie corridors, past the reception with faded pink chairs. A sense of urgency, a need tugged him forwards.

He will not die here.

Opening the front glass door of the hospital, a breeze of fresh air fanned his skin. Somehow, it felt welcoming. As if greeting him back to the world of the living, even in its freshness, threatening to tint the tip of his nose pink, he welcomed its presence with open arms.

“Jungkook!”

And just as those solemn words were carved into the sand, the sight of Yugyeom, smiling at him from across the street, was like a wave, crashing against the shore and washing them away.

No, Jungkook would most certainly not die here.

Yugyeom had crossed the street, a slight skip or pep to his step as he sauntered over. A smile, genuine and significant, was displayed across the witches' features. A contagious happiness that seemingly infected Jungkook within minutes, the usually brooding sickly witch breaking his misanthrope-like persona rather quickly. Yugyeom had hooked his arm against the crook of Jungkooks, leading him down the street and away from the hospital.

The town adjacent to the university was quaint and consisted of considerably more foot traffic than vehicular. The streets beside the sidewalk are no longer a flat pavement but a combination of closely arranged cobblestone.

“How’d your appointment go?” Yugyeom asked, breaking their streak of idle chit-chat. At least, Yugyeom considered the topic of his coven—one Jungkook knew nothing about— idle . He was reeling; the thought of having missed the moment of Yugyeom finding his own soulmates left a bitter taste on his tongue and a sinking feeling in his gut. He had missed it . He had missed hearing about their first meeting, had missed Yugyeom's first date, and had missed the day the witch completed the bonding ceremony with his soulmates.

It made the words of abandonment echo inside his soul, his mind reeling on the fact that, effectively, he was a stranger. Yugyeom had been okay with him leaving, or rather, hadn’t stopped Jungkook from leaving. But the sickly witch felt uncertain how deep that okayness actually went.

“—Jungkook? Hello, earth to Jungkook?” Yugyeom called out, drawing out the words theatrically as he stopped. Waving his other hand in front of Jungkook's face, successfully snapping the witch out of his guilty stupor.

Yugyeom, unaware of the heavy turn Jungkook's feelings went, snickered, amusement clear in his expression. “Where’d you run off to this time?”

“I’m sorry, Yugyeomm.”

Just like with his first apology, Jungkook watched as Yugyeom's carefree smile turned crooked and forced before resigning to its fate entirely.

“You already apologized, and I already told you that it’s fine—” The witch began, but a shake from Jungkook's head hauled him to a stop. Throughout their time, Yugyeom learned through the rare times Jungkook would talk to let him express what he needed to before jutting back in.

“It’s not, though. I’m sorry, I really am Yugyeom. I missed so many special moments in your life; you were there for me. But I wasn’t there for you.” He began, for a moment, not meeting his friend's gaze, inhaling sharply as he collected his thoughts before returning to those clear, bordering eyes. “I can’t,” He began, his own face contorting into one filled with regret. “—can’t change that. But I can promise you now that I’ll be there.” Grabbing Yugyeom's hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze when he finished his sentence. A silent, physical reminder that he was actually there. That he meant it.

“And I’ll be staying, Yugyeom. I’m done hiding; I’m done running. I want to be a part of your life again. If you still want me to be in it, of course—”

Jungkook's words were cut off by the force of which Yugyeom hugged him, the witch's arms wrapped around his neck. Momentarily knocking the air and his words out of him. It took Jungkook a moment to process, his own arms hovering over Yugyeom's back. Before the sick witch fell into the embrace, hiding his face in his friend's shoulder—arms snaking tightly around Yugyeom, as if the witch would slowly evaporate within his hold.

“Oh, Jungkook, I missed you,” Yugyeom admitted, the words making Jungkook's arms tighten as he exhaled shakily. Yugyeom's jacket muffled the sound.

“Whatever the world holds for us now, let’s face it together again, yeah?” Yugyeom suggested, a hopeful tone dominating the otherwise emotional voice Yugyeom spoke with.

Unwilling to shed tears in public, Jungkook nodded. Letting out a sad, wet chuckle. “Yeah, let’s face it together.”

The rest of the walk was subtle and easy-going, the sight of what Jungkook assumed to be the cafe approaching. It had a similar style to his Halmonis bookstore in that the bottom floor was styled differently, the second floor remaining simple and most likely only serving as an apartment. The block the establishment was located in split the road, creating a Y formation where the streets parted ways. The store was, literally, a corner store. A set of two doors, blunket in color, provided entry to the cafe. Adjacent to the doors were carved, varnished wood beams with a deep but aged appearance with two large rectangular patterns carved into the panelling. The designs were growing much darker, nearly black in color from age. Nailed against the wooden beams was a black picture frame displaying the menu. The sides of the cafe, besides the large, open windows, had its wooden frame painted a matt black. Over the entrance doors was a neatly hidden wooden ledge, an extended assortment of vines growing down onto either side of the doors. The bougainvillea and purpleleaf grape vines mingling well with the otherwise green foliage, it almost gave off the appearance that the entry to the cafe was somewhat hidden. The plants were supposed to remain above striped, black, and white awnings; however, the vines had grown bulky and already begun to stretch over the protective fabric.

The cafe was clearly busy, bustling with customers inside and out. Small, circular tables and woven chairs hugged closely to the outside of the store were already occupied. Entering the cafe, the overpowering aura of magic filled Jungkook's lungs with a quick glance around the otherwise lively space. He watched how brooms swept the floors by themselves, washcloths wiping over vacated desks, dirty dishes collecting themselves and floating into the kitchen. Once again, the sight of such mundane magic made Jungkook's heart swell. Although he can no longer indulge in magic himself, being able to observe it, practically living all around him, felt somewhat consoling.

The cafe had its charm, mimicking the same aesthetic as its outside within the store. Matt blacks, rich varnished woods, and plants decorated their surroundings. A black, spiraling staircase stood beside the end of the counter. Leading to a second floor, which remained open and covered only one half of the remaining cafe. Delicately designed railings line the open wall. The occasional lamp, chandelier, or lined LED gave off a warm orange light. Mixed with the dominant scent of grounded coffee beans and vanilla, Jungkook knew he’d visit this place more often. Walking over to the counter, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile a little as the fae took their orders. The sight of two large, ivory wings resembling those of a bird. Pointed ears, adorned with hanging jewelry, and pale skin. Within the midst of Busan, Jungkook hardly ever saw a lot of magicals. Sure, the occasional creature here or there. But it was no secret to anyone that magicals preferred to stick together, making small towns like these heavily populated with all kinds of magical folk. It made Jungkook feel strangely at home.

With their orders placed, Yugyeom and he sat down at an available table. They had chosen a table on the second floor, hugging the railing and giving them a good view of the interior design and general clientele of the cafe.

“You know, you never did answer my question.” Yugyeom chimed in, having taken off his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair as he settled in.

Perking up, Jungkook shook his head as he shrugged. “Which question would that be exactly?” He mused, tone playful and a little jokingly exasperated.

“About how your appointment went,” Yugyeom reminded, and if he had seen Jungkook tense at the clarification, he hadn’t mentioned it. A long, calculated sigh escaped the sickly witch as he mulled over his thoughts and words. Having Yugyeom support him was a bittersweet but heartwarming feeling. But again, Jungkook found himself wanting to spare his friend from the gory details. There was a pause in conversation, Yugyeom clearly giving Jungkook the time he needed to formulate his response.

“Well, the procedure itself went fine.” Jungkook began, debating silently whether or not to keep his answer at that. But a glance at Yugyeom and a resolved shake of his head, Jungkook confessed.

“I’m, well—I’m getting worse.” He watched as Yugyeom inhaled sharply, his friend's chest filling with air and keeping it there for longer than necessary. A shaky, broken exhale followed soon after. But Jungkook was stuck trying to formulate his words in a way Yugyeom understood; unlike Jungkook, who had studied Astrobiomedicine for the past years and understood complex medical procedure terms and certain biological cell structures going on within him, Yugyeom didn’t. Jungkook knew from experience that adding large, imposing words to anxious confusion simply made things worse.

“Jungkook, will..” Yugyeom drawled out his words, looking away at the patrons below them as he seemingly swallowed a lump within his throat. “Will you be okay?”

Before Jungkook could answer that question, he was unfortunately interrupted by two flying porcelain mugs and two plates carrying a slice of strawberry shortcake. Their earlier placed orders floated towards them before gently landing on the table before them; the subtle smell of vanilla and latte, along with the warm breath of steam lightly kissing his face, Jungkook found himself relaxing a little.

“Yugyeom,” He began, his town a practiced level of clarity and stillness. “Nexus entropy develops in stages. But at its core, it develops when your magic grows unstable. The mana begins to attack itself, gradually becoming more corrosive as the disease develops.” Taking a sip from his latte, Jungkook let the bitter taste of espresso settle him. Glancing at Yugyeom to check if he was following, a curt nod from the witch was all he needed before continuing.

“Of course, there are all kinds of side effects throughout this process.” A dry, humorless chuckle escaped him. Recalling the restless nights spent in bed, tossing and turning because his entire body ached. Or the times when he would lose nearly all of his energy, spending days absolutely bedridden and at the mercy of his Halmonis hellish soups and regenerative concoctions. The spouts of nausea, vertigo, heat and cold flashes, headaches, the list was excruciatingly endless.

Sometimes, in his delusional state, he imagined Yoongi sitting by the end of his bed. Hand resting firmly on his ankle, a distant but reassuring touch, similar to how when he had gotten sick at the end of his first year. The stoic witch had feigned nonchalance at missing the ceremony—where the present witches graduated into a higher class—and remained by his side. Yoongi didn’t say much during those times, but Jungkook didn’t need him to. Whenever a cough would wrack through him, leaving him hunched over and wheezing slightly, that red string connecting their hearts would tug, needily, silently prompting Jungkook to lift his drooping head and look at Yoongi. To confirm to the older—secretly worried—witch that he, too, would be alright.

Jungkook still recalled his sheer surprise as he was startled awake, not even having realized he was nodding off until the door was nearly slammed off its hinges. His soulmates had ushered in, all still wearing their traditional ceremonial robes; if Jungkook didn’t feel like he had just trudged through the moors by himself, he would have smiled at their urgency to return to him. Yoongi, unlike Jungkook, was very unamused by the intrusion. Berating the others for waking him after having just dozed off. Everyone was there, in their tight two-bed dorm room, even Taehyung. That night was spent by six powerful witches desperately fighting the little gremlin that was Jungkook's cold. Namjoon constantly realigning or replacing the cold towel over his forehead, Jin having gone off before retrieving a steaming bowl of soup, Hoseok nudging a pillow behind his back and helping him sit up before subsequently feeding the steaming bowl of soup to him. Jimin was gently massaging his sore muscles, chatting aimlessly since the witch knew how much Jungkook hated silence. Surprisingly, Taehyung had helped with the conversation, helping in his own, reserved way. Yoongi, throughout all of this, had not let go of his reassuring hold on his ankle.

But opening his eyes, Jungkook would always be greeted by the sight of his white ceiling. The rhythmic patter of rain hitting his windows would never soothe him like Jimin's theatric gossiping, nor would soup ever cure what he has.

Clearing his throat to get back on track, Jungkook leaned his elbows against the table. “Well, I’m sure you know how mana works. Although it's spread throughout your entire body, it is most dominant within the bloodstream. Hence, when powerful magicals get injured, their powers quickly diminish along with them.” He made a slight motion of his hand, gesturing to his body as he explained their basic biology. Not because Yugyeom was dense or misinformed but simply because Jungkook remembered Yugyeom nearly failing their biology class.

“When mana becomes–” He paused, trying to find the right words for Yugyeom. “—Corrupted?” He settled on that, waiting to absentmindedly rub his cold thumb over his wrist. “It becomes visible; it turns black.”

Watching Yugyeom's eyebrows furrow with untold questions, Jungkook rushed to explain. “It’s kinda like when we cast a detection charm, and the magic surrounding you gives off a colorful aura? Dark magic usually has a red or black atmosphere, not because it has gained sentience and wants to appear all brooding and edgy, but because it's dangerous. Spells with red auras are that way because the spell caster sacrificed something to conjure it. Black auras aren’t given something; they take something. Similarly to how the color black absorbs the wavelengths of light.” Jungkook prayed to the gods that his explanation made sense. He wasn’t used to explaining his diagnosis; his Halmoni knew because the doctor had explained it to her for him. No one else knew. Well, besides Yugyeom.

Taking a moment to pause, Jungkook let his friend process his abbreviated explanation. “My veins are turning black because the mana inside me is consuming itself.” Jungkook's magic, his essence, was killing itself. Subsequently, taking Jungkook with it.

Yugyeom had stilled somewhat before beginning to pick at his slice of cake anxiously. No longer lifting pieces to his mouth but instead gently nudging a cut strawberry across the white porcelain.

Guilt crept up on Jungkook like an old acquaintance, tapping his shoulder before becoming his companion once more. He had never been able to forget the glassy eyes of his Halmoni, her gray eyebrows contorted and expression low. Seeing Yugyeom like this reminded Jungkook of the sheer helplessness he felt in those moments. Because what should he say? He couldn’t promise a brighter future, especially since he wasn’t sure if he’d even have one.

But the urge was there, persistent and relentless. Clearing his throat, he pulled the lost Yugyeom back towards him. Unable to bear the burden of those far-off gazes. “Do you know what a centrifuge is?” With a shake of Yugyeom's head, he continued, “Well, it's a machine that basically separates heterogeneous mixtures into their various components. Humans use a centrifuge to separate red blood cells, platelets, and plasma. The red cells are then transferred back to the human.”

Jungkook shrugged off his jacket, folding down the soft woolen ring around his neck to reveal a skin-colored bandaid. “Something similar happens to me; they take my corrupted blood—” He then moved to scrunch up the left sleeve of his black turtleneck until he reached the juncture of his arm. A bright turquoise self-adhesive bandage, bulging slightly where the wool swab laid underneath, “and transferred the “clean” blood back into my body. Devoid of any mana.” Pulling his sleeve back down and correcting his turtleneck, Jungkook leaned back against his chair with a tired sigh.

“The procedure takes about four hours.” He stated, watching Yugyeom's mouth gape. The witch had been awfully silent throughout his entire lecture, and Jungkook couldn’t really blame him. He wouldn’t be faring much better if he had just found out his best friend had a terminal illness and then gotten a crash course in said illness only a day later.

He should be in the lab right now. Jungkook thought absentmindedly, although even his own thoughts were laced with a bit of bitterness. Meeting with Yugyeom would never feel like a waste of his time, it just felt like something he didn’t have at the moment. He didn’t have any time left to spare.

“I—” His words choked him, their heaviness preventing him from pushing them from his tongue. He wanted to gag. “In order to give myself time, the mana inside me needs to be removed.” He repeated, frowning deeply. “I don’t really have any magic anymore.” He whispered, blinking rapidly to prevent the wetness clouding his eyes from spilling over. Mana was a part of a witch's soul. They were made of it. To be without mana— without magic , was a witch's equivalent to being a wanderer without a soul. Incomplete.

Before Yugyeom could shed a tear, something Jungkook now realized was a genuine threat. He reached out, plucking one of Yugyeom's hands and encasing it tightly within his own. He rubbed his thumb over the warm skin, a taunting contrast to his own, lifelessness. Lifting his head, Jungkook locked his gaze in with his friends—a steel-like, determined look and tone accompanying his promises.

“But don’t worry, Yugyeom, I might not have magic now. But I don’t need it at the moment either. I have enough time till the end of the year, and by then—” An auspicious smile graces Jungkook's features, “I’ll have a cure.”

A moment of silence, the nonsensical chatter, and gossip of other patrons felt distant, swallowed by a wave neither of them could see. The sound of silverware greeting porcelain, the coffee bean grinder below them, the opening and closing of the front doors. It all felt so distant as if Yugyeom and he were part of a much more melancholic reality. Before Jungkook's running nerves could force the silence away, Yugyeom spoke, “Promise?”

Now, Jungkook wasn’t in the habit of making idle promises. To swear on something he wasn’t certain about. To lie for comfort was never his style.

With a nod, Jungkook sighed. “I promise, Yugyeom.”

Internally, Jungkook hoped this wouldn’t be the first time he’d break a promise.

Yugyeom seemed satisfied with that answer before covering his face in the palm of his hands and sighing dramatically. “I leave you alone once! Once Jungkook.” He joked, pulling his face out of his hands and collapsing against the back of his chair exasperatingly.

And Just like magic, the tension between them faded into the air like steam. Finding himself relaxed, Jungkook lifted his now lukewarm latte to his lips, sipping on it with a new sense of appreciation. It finally gave him the right deck of cards to be the one asking the questions. With a mischievous smirk, he pointed towards Yugyeom vaguely.

“So, is that coven of yours responsible for that purple hickey on your neck?” Jungkook asked, tone casual and nonchalant as he poorly hid his mischievous gaze. Yugyeom blinked, once, twice, before slapping his hand onto the crook of his neck harshly. The sound made a few customers glance their way briefly, all bearing different levels of intrigue or confusion. Jungkook's shoulders slightly shook with how desperately he was holding in his own laughter. The heated look of Yugyeom before the witch grabbed their bag, rummaging through it before grabbing a small compound mirror and checking the validity of Jungkook's teasing.

Upon finding the dark, bruised love bite, the witch flushed. Grabbing some concealer and dotting it onto the spot, he tried to salvage a quick cover-up as he rubbed the pigment in. “And how long were you planning on sitting on that information?” Yugyeom asked a hiss to his tone. It was a fake kind of heat, even if Jungkook wasn’t familiar with it already; the slightly amused curling of Yugyeom's lips gave the flustered witch away.

Shrugging, Jungkook chuckled. “We were having a moment.”

“You brat.”

Jungkook laughed, rolling his eyes as he finished his latte. Yugyeoms feathers successfully ruffled, he could relax again. Watching his friend settle back down, putting away the compact and concealer with a bemused expression. “But seriously, tell me more about your coven.” He nudged, desperately wanting to make up for lost time.

Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure what caused his feelings of bittersweet nostalgia, the way Yugyeom lit up at the mention of his coven or the fact that the love-drunk witch couldn’t stop himself from gushing about them. Pushing those feelings aside, Jungkook felt himself feel happy for Yugyeom; his coven, a total of six members excluding the witch, sounded perfect for Yugyeom.

They seemed to make him very happy.

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aloneatpeace · 2 years

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Library of aloneatpeace

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

Hello there , this my masterlist for all my work .I'm mostly writing about tv shows , movie and series that i like .my first language is not English so there might be some mistakes so don't mind it . update will be slow so be patient and thank you for reading ❤️✌️.this is my Wattpad

The incorrect quotes will be in the blog you can search it by using the tag i decided to shorten my masterlist

All updates will be slow.

✔️ complete |. 🖋️on going. |. 📌 on hold

TV Shows

Teen wolf,vampire diaries, supernatural,wandvison

1.In another universe ✔️

Find chapters here

2.Cosmic Chaos 🖋️

Info. She THE SCARLET PHOENIX

THE SCARLET PHOENIX OUTFITS

Find chapters here

3. BTS

1.Fall Of Empire 📌

Find chapters here

2. 𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙻𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙲 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳 📌

Find chapters here

4.BULLET TRAIN 📌

Find chapters here

5.Shadow of the past 📌

Find chapters here

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serenashinart · 10 months

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Divination wizard Yoongi ✪

#bts fanart #yoongi #agust d #suga #fantasy #magic #witch #artists on tumblr #illustration #digital art #procreate

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xanni-devito · 1 year

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Witch Seokjin

Dragon Hoseok

Siren Yoongi

Dragon Namjoon

Fae Jungkook

Dragon Taehyung

Fae Jimin

—————

Moodboards for a VERY long running RP, Summer Thunder, where dragon coven Joon, Hobi, and Tae kidnap for ransom in order to survive as the last living dragons. They fall in love with their most recent catch, though, and a whooooole lot of shit happens, including but not limited to, Yoongi reaching maturity via soulmate bond, Taehyung becoming consort of a fairy kingdom, and Jin and Joon reviving a dead language. Also, a fuck ton of heinous smut.

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chimcess · 1 year

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→ Chapter One: Blessed Under Moonlight Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 19k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: Cursing, panic attack, blood, self injuries, ritualistic scenes, pining, long haired jimin (this is a warning), mention of death, not much to say here A/N: Not me doing a complete overhaul of the series. Yes, it is a lot, and yes, there are a lot of changes happening, but I do think that they are good changes. This series has become more than I ever thought it would be and I wanted to make the changes I thought would line up with what I would have written back then with the knowledge that I have now- to the point that I have changed the name of the series itself. Don’t worry, nothing is changed too much. Thank you so much for reading, babes!

masterlist || next

The night was warm, the air thick and wet despite the gentle breeze that barely stirred the leaves around my home. Another howl echoed through the forest, sending a chill down my spine. Just a few more minutes, I thought. I felt the familiar itch at my ankle, scratched it quickly, and resumed my pacing. I had to make it in time. They promised they would wait. It was tradition, and traditions were sacred. But I knew their leader’s patience was thin. My steps quickened.

For a thousand years, my family had pledged allegiance to the Gods of the Moon. A desperate cry in the dead of night had turned into a curse. Each generation had to choose a sacrifice, a child who would replace the old. We were the Bridds, witches charged with guarding Lustra and its people. I was the chosen one, the only girl born since my mentor Aldara, and the youngest ever to wear the cold metal chain around my leg.

After Aldara's untimely death, I was thrust into the role of leading the blessing ritual in the wolves' village. It was a ceremonial occasion, marking the boys' transition into men. The pack was lost, and the Gods turned to me. I was thirteen, a child forced to take on this burden, blessing the wolves every year since. It was the only time I was allowed out of my cottage as a human.

Tonight was Kim Taehyung's eighteenth birthday, a significant age for the wolves, marking the day one could become a warrior. Yoongi, the kitchen witch deep in the forest, thought Taehyung would be like any other pack member. But I knew better. I had more contact with the wolves than any other witch. I was the only outsider permitted on pack land. I continued to pace. I could not be late.

Finally, I felt it. The thin, indestructible chain around my ankle began to tighten gently, glowing with an iridescent light. Pleasure washed over me, a cool sensation caressing my skin. The chain broke, and I stepped out. It would stay open until dawn. I grabbed my lantern, my pack of magical items, and slipped on my shoes. I whispered a spell to stop my cottage's magic, needing all my stamina for the night. Teleportation was too draining; I opted for meteor powder instead.

As I moved through the trees, the birds chattered. My friend Patto, a yellow-crowned night heron, perched on the bird bath the pack had gifted me. I knew I couldn't ignore him. Briefly, I stopped to exchange words.

“Human tonight?” he asked, hopping closer.

“It’s a man’s coming-of-age ceremony,” I explained, wrapping my shawl tighter.

“I won’t keep you then, Y/N,” Patto said, nuzzling my cheek before taking flight.

I pulled out my bag of meteor powder, a lavender-colored substance for quick travel. Drawing a detailed picture of the ritual site, I threw the powder onto the sheet. The page ignited in a bright purple flame. I spoke the destination's name clearly and hopped onto the flame.

When I opened my eyes, I was in the ritual cave. I thanked the Gods for allowing my magic to work and began setting up. The men and women required different candles and items. Betas were straightforward, omegas needed finely ground pearls mixed with paints, and alphas required more preparation. Jungkook, the only blessed child in a hundred years, needed sage during his ceremony.

In the Foxglove pack, there were three alphas. Jung Hoseok, who handled trading and pack affairs, Kim Namjoon, the voice of the people, and Park Jimin, the most mysterious of the three. As always, thinking of Jimin left a sour taste in my mouth.

After arranging my altar, I pricked my finger and drew a circle with my blood. The wolf would stand in the middle, trapped by salt and peonies. Unlike Aldara, who chained them, I found this method less cruel. Satisfied, I painted myself, adhering to the pack's customs. My colors were blue, red, and black, representing the raven.

I heard the wolves approaching, their scent filling the cave. My prey instincts urged me to run, but I stood my ground. I was a witch. Nothing scared me, not even predators. When it was silent, I knew it was time.

“Bless this child, Y/N,” came Ahn's voice, the pack’s Chief Elder.

Carefully, I sealed the circle and lit the candles, the orange glow illuminating the cave. Taehyung stood naked, as tradition required, his eyes filled with anticipation. I began the chant, feeling the tension in the room. They hoped for a fourth alpha, a status symbol in the wolf world.

Then, it hit me. The husky, woodsy scent of an alpha, stronger than any before. The pack's excitement was palpable. I continued the incantations, bracing for the struggle. Taehyung was becoming an alpha, and the pack's future hung in the balance.

Though I had done this three times already it never got easier. However, Jungkook had been the last wolf I guided through the change, and the sickeningly sweet scent that rolled off his young body made Taehyung’s feel like a gentle breeze. I could hear small exclamations of joy happening around us. The real party would be when this was over. I moved from one incantation into another seamlessly and braced myself for the fight to come.

I grabbed the bowl of white paint I had prepared and the bone knife, feeling the weight of the night pressing in on me. Silver was strictly forbidden in the village, no exceptions. As I continued to sing the incantation, I sliced the palm of my hand, letting my blood drip into the bowl. I walked over to Taehyung, bracing myself, and snatched his hand. This was why the circle was necessary; it held him in place, preventing him from breaking free and attacking me. I made a quick cut on his hand and placed the bowl under the wound. Taehyung howled in anger, too far gone to feel the pain. I backed away before he could shift, watching as the large, sandy wolf snapped and snarled at me.

I retrieved a new paintbrush and approached Taehyung again. Using magic, I forced him to shift back into a man and positioned him on all fours. My concentration didn't waver. I drew the pack’s symbol on his back: two large, parallel trapezoids. Then I traced the Aquila constellation on the back of his neck. My hands heated up as I chanted, calling for the Gods to bless the wolf through me. Taehyung screamed as the symbols branded into his skin, forever marking his transition into manhood. The scars turned from red to white within seconds, shining in the candlelight. The ceremony neared its end. I removed my hands and blew out the yellow candles, then lit the blue ones.

Kneeling before the altar, I raised my arms and chanted, feeling a burning sensation in my back. My voice remained steady even as two large, metallic black wings tore through my flesh, the pain nearly unbearable. Blood pooled around my calves, but I couldn't stop singing.

The wings sprouted fully, and I reached with trembling hands to pluck a single black feather, placing it on the altar. I cupped the feather, continuing the chant. It lifted from the altar and began to spin. I moved my hands, lifting my arms straight up. The feather followed, glowing like my chain had earlier. My head felt like it was splitting in half as a blue jewel grew from my forehead and fell. I caught it before it hit the ground and placed it on the altar next to the feather. As I said the final words of the incantation, the jewel vanished. My wings retracted into my back, and the feather floated down. The cave fell silent.

Seconds later, cheers erupted around me. Exhausted, I smiled and leaned on a nearby rock. Despite my fatigue, I had one more task before I could leave. Using the rocks for support, I stood and grabbed the feather. It was tradition for the blessed wolf to keep the feather. Before the wolves came to Lustra during the Century War, they sacrificed birds for this occasion. Now, the Bridd took on the sacrificial aspects of the rituals, making such sacrifices unnecessary.

I approached the circle where Taehyung lay in his wolf form, horse-sized and yellow-furred. He looked smug, glancing at his younger siblings. Ignoring the pain in my back and the blood from my wounds, I forced myself to stand tall.

“Kim Taehyung,” I said, presenting the feather, “this represents your newfound freedom. I wish you the best in the future.”

Kneeling, I used magic to blow the salt away and placed the feather in front of me. Taehyung hesitated but finally took the feather in his teeth. I smiled at him, waving my hand to shift him back and clothe him in the robes Sol had laid out. The elders would award him his alpha sash at the feast. Taehyung smiled at me, his boxy grin innocent and sincere.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Thank the Gods, not me,” I replied, nodding. “Congratulations, Alpha Taehyung.”

Standing, I bowed to the new alpha before using magic to dismantle the altar and tools. Wolves, like witches, were unembarrassed by nakedness, so I felt no discomfort undressing. The bloody clothes stuck to me, and I was grateful to be out of them. Unlike wolves, I got cold easily and rarely left my cottage in winter except for ceremonies.

Calling out to Luna Sol for permission, I packed my candles and prepared more meteor powder and another drawing, this time of my home. The few remaining wolves included the other three alphas. I ignored them, knowing it was best to stay out of wolf affairs. Even as a trusted ally, I was still an outsider.

“Excuse me, Bridd?” Hoseok’s voice stopped me.

I turned, meeting the gazes of the alphas. Fighting the urge to glance at Jimin, I maintained eye contact with Hoseok, who was smiling.

“Alpha Hoseok,” I greeted, bowing. “Can I help you with something?”

“Namjoon and Jimin have lists of supplies they require,” he said.

I bowed to Namjoon, who had a calming warmth despite his intimidating mono-lid, and then to Jimin. His feline, sharp eyes were pitch black in the cave's darkness, his silver hair glowing. He was the palest member of the village, his silver wolf matching his hair. I forced my eyes away.

“Alpha Jimin.”

Hoseok handed me the lists.

“Do you need new paper and ink? Your mate is still visiting family,” I said, glancing at the lists.

“You know everything,” Hoseok joked. “Yes, I’ll need more. Hyuna’s not back for three days. I’ve accounted for that.”

I nodded, placing the papers in my sack.

“I’ll need four days to prepare everything. I’ll be useless tomorrow and maybe the day after.”

“Of course, Bridd. In that case, disregard the extra paper and ink.”

Namjoon added, “Our pack is forever indebted to you. Please rest.”

“Thank you, alpha. I will.”

After bowing and saying my farewells, I returned to my drawing and powder. Saying I wanted to go to my cottage, I threw the powder and stepped into the flames. I ended up across the clearing from my cottage. Groaning, I threw the powder into my bag and cast a small spell to reach my front door.

I still had two hours of freedom, and I intended to use them.

Inside, I slipped off my shoes and stowed my ceremonial gear on the small shelf by the door. Realizing I'd left my lantern in the cave, I quickly penned a letter to the pack, asking Hoseok to return it upon his next visit. I called out to Shiloh, my barn owl familiar who lived in the tree by the kitchen window. She delivered letters in exchange for treats or tips on where to find mice burrows. A bowl of crickets usually sufficed. I put the kettle on before changing into something more comfortable and washing off. This rare time without the need for magic was a luxury I savored.

As I tugged my shirt down, the kettle whistled. I returned to the kitchen, removed it from the flame, and fetched a cup from the cupboard. It wasn’t often I had this much time after a ceremony. Taehyung’s wolf hadn’t resisted, aside from the usual discomfort. Unlike the other alphas, whose ceremonies stretched until dusk, this had been relatively quick. The deep wounds on my back were just beginning to scab over. I’d never seen the scars, but I knew they’d turn purple before becoming a strange, almost-silver color. My body had learned to endure the abuse.

Shifters, blessed by the Gods, were seen by many as slaves, but I knew our abilities were gifts. The wolves were cursed to protect the land, their Gods ensuring their village remained plentiful and its people blessed with extended lifespans. Similarly, the role of the Bridd was a sacred gift, hand-picked by the Gods to serve for all days. In return, we received our magic and other blessings. The cottage would outlast me, serving future generations. I would become a bird, a spirit of the forest. This was my purpose.

I placed dandelions and a large tea bag into my cup, then went outside to enjoy the night air. I was never allowed outside during the day, confined to my home by the chain. I remembered frolicking in the clearing as a child, playing with the rabbits. Those were the years I was still Y/N, and the forest was my haven. Auntie had allowed me more freedom than previous Bridds, knowing my love for magic was strong. She’d told me I was special, that my connection would serve me well. The Gods would bless me for my love. But now, she was gone, and I was thrust into a world I was barely prepared for. The Gods had taken her from me, and one day they would take me from my student. It seemed too unfair to be a blessing, but I held out hope. Bitterness wouldn’t serve me well, even if it was all I felt.

The forest came alive at night, and I immersed myself in its glory. The sounds of crickets chirping relaxed me, and I took a deep breath. It felt nice to be free of blood and paint. Hoseok and the Luna were the only ones who had seen me without ceremonial gear. No one else visited, and my inability to wander the forest outside of bird form made it impossible for others to see me as a woman. This was the life of the Bridd—a quiet one filled with solitude and the honor of being a forest guardian. A lonely honor for only the best. I took a gulp of tea and sighed at its warmth. I loved it as much as I hated it.

A rustle in the bushes caught my attention. Two large white dots glowed in the darkness. I smiled, placing my cup down. It was a wolf, probably a young pup curious about me. Hoseok often spoke of how the children described me in town. I stood and reached out my hand.

The wolf hesitated before stepping into the light. Its color was hard to discern in the dark, but it was light-colored. In its mouth was my lantern. I gasped, moving toward the large animal. This was no pup; it was too large. I didn’t see the wolves often enough to tell them apart. They all smelled the same after the change. Its fur glowed in the moonlight.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the lantern.

The wolf touched its nose to my hand, a sign of understanding. I patted its nose gently, laughing when it nuzzled further. It might have been a teen like Jungkook, but the white fur set it apart from the prince. Jungkook was midnight black and less fluffy.

“I’m surprised they let you leave during such a joyous occasion.”

The wolf looked at the grass, and I laughed in disbelief.

“You snuck away, didn’t you? Bad wolf. What would your alphas think?”

The wolf made a chirping sound, laughing. Shocked, I stared at it. The wolf laughed harder, flopped onto the ground, and rolled onto its back.

“Alpha Jimin would be very displeased with you, pup,” I mocked, bending to rub its chest.

The wolf hummed in satisfaction.

“That’s not fair,” I mumbled. “He’s better to be around than Ahn.”

The wolf stared at me, and I snapped out of my trance. Wanting to forget my outburst, I grinned and scratched the wolf’s chest. It wiggled happily, its large tongue flapping out. When I scratched its ribs, its leg kicked.

“Aren’t you the sweetest thing?” I laughed.

Shiloh called from the tree beside my window. The sun would rise soon, and I should rest. I sighed, looking at the wolf. It seemed upset that I'd stopped.

“I have to go inside now,” I said.

The wolf whimpered, nuzzling its head into my lap.

“It’s my duty, little wolf.”

It finally moved, understanding duty. The pack thrived on duty and devotion to the Gods. I patted the wolf and stood. It followed me to the door, towering over me. I picked up my cup and used magic to open the door. The lantern went on its hook, and my cup floated to the sink, hopping in the air.

“It’s time to go, friend,” I said, hands on my hips.

The wolf nuzzled its head into my chest. I rubbed its neck and scratched behind its ear. Sadness filled me at the thought of it leaving. I laughed at my melodramatics. This wolf was a stranger, not my friend. I shouldn’t grow fond of it or cry about it leaving. I wasn’t that lonely.

“Go on,” I pushed its head lightly. “Before the pack realizes you’re gone. Alpha Jimin begins his rounds soon.”

The wolf nosed my hand once more before bounding off into the night, its white fur glowing under the moonlight. As I closed the door, the chain on the floor slithered toward me like a living thing. I walked toward it, and it wrapped itself around my ankle once more, a chilling sensation spreading through my body. I quickly performed my altar ritual before heading to my room. Sleep came easy, filled with dreams of brown eyes and the smell of smoke drifting through the air.

When I awoke, my shop was a cluttered mess of bottles, sacks, and labels. Hoseok’s request for supplies had never been this extensive. The volume of healing supplies and medicines I needed to prepare was overwhelming. I quickly labeled everything, feeling my sanity slipping with each passing minute. The monotonous process of making enough for all 200 wolves was draining. Slicing my finger, I hissed in pain and put the knife down. It was time for a break. I was running low on supplies anyway, so I sent Shiloh to Yoongi’s home to scrounge for extras.

Namjoon’s request for a new shipment of medicines had me restocking their entire inventory. Jimin’s order, though, was the real challenge: a convoluted and, frankly, unnecessary potion. I wrote to Enver, a young witch in the northern swamps, for the toads I needed. With Shiloh out, I relied on Delinah, a doe who helped me in exchange for fruits and vegetables.

Jimin’s order included a healing potion that wolves could take without shifting, portable heat suppressants, and a camouflaging potion. The healing potion was one of the most difficult recipes I’d ever made. With 15 wolves in Jimin’s party, I needed a surplus. The camouflage potion was even more challenging. For the first time in years, I had to reference Aldara’s grimoire.

Shiloh sang, signaling her return, and I rushed to her window to take the sack of supplies from Yoongi. He included a letter explaining the missing items—the sea witch coven had taken a lot for their rituals. I needed Shiloh to fetch the rest from Seokjin, a Solar witch.

“Alright, Lolo,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “Let me get you a new basket.”

“What now?” she deadpanned.

“You need to make a trip to Seokjin’s for the remaining supplies on the list.”

“The Solar witch?”

“Yes, Shiloh. What other Seokjin do we know?”

I began preparing another sack with a new list. Delinah was due back any minute with the toads, so I could begin the fifteenth, and hopefully last, trial of the camouflage potion.

“Why must you send me there?” she whined, flapping her wings in agitation.

“Because he always has a surplus of herbs and flowers, and I need them to complete my order for the pack,” I replied, securing the pouch around her neck.

“You know I enjoy Jin’s humor at the best of times,” Shiloh said, her voice already taking on a whine. She despised Jin’s familiar, a dog called Mannix, and I was throwing her into the deep end by sending her there. Unfortunately, I had no other choice.

“Shiloh,” I chuckled, putting the letter inside the bag. “Seokjin is one of the most brilliant witches in the land, and I know Mannix isn’t that horrible. It’ll be quick, and tonight I’ll be more inclined to go hunting with you.”

She agreed begrudgingly before flying away. I went back to the kitchen and started up the flame to my cauldron again. Using magic, I charmed all the completed potions to sort themselves and get into their bags before beginning to brew the camouflaging potion. The toads would be the last to go in this time. Delinah arrived, placing the jar of toads on my countertop.

“Stir this, please,” I asked.

The doe nodded, walking over to stir the potion with a wooden spoon held in her teeth. I put on gardening gloves, preparing myself. The potion required three whole toads, and despite trying alternatives, nothing worked as well. I placed the frogs to sleep with a spell and tossed them into the cauldron. Delinah and I switched places, and I saw the potion turn grass green. I began to chant, watching as it turned clear like water. I cheered, hugging the deer beside me. She nuzzled into my neck and gave me a lick.

“Good job, Y/N,” she said.

“Thank you, Dee,” I replied, retrieving a large sack filled with cabbage heads. “I’ll have apples next time.”

Delinah happily took the sack and left. I bottled the potion, confident it was correct this time. Shiloh hated testing potions for me, so I wanted to avoid another crisis. I turned to the packaged boxes of medications, curling the ribbons with my favorite bone knife. Like many forest witches, I collected bones and had a habit of foraging during my nights. Aldara always teased me about my “crow brain” and love for shiny things. My collection of gems and bottle caps was testament to that. Crafting was another love, and I enjoyed making my packages look neat and professional.

Aldara never stopped me from decorating boxes and collecting bones, even if she didn’t care for it. I spent hours making packaging boxes and pretty bows, but now I used magic to do the work for me. I matched the potions within, included a card explaining their use, and tossed in a magical card that would take anyone to my shop in case of emergency, except during my unavailable hours when it would send them to Yoongi’s instead. The stamper would stamp the box with a large bird, a brush would paint the Aquila constellation along both sides, and a ribbon would wrap itself around it. However, for Jimin’s packages, I opted out of decorations, keeping only the constellation.

As I placed the finishing touches on the orders, I heard the bell above my door ring and large, booming footsteps. Hoseok had arrived, and he wasn’t alone. I abandoned my ribbons, dusted off my apron, and went to greet him.

“Good afternoon, Hoseok,” I said, not paying much attention as I charmed the camouflage potion to begin packing. “My apologies for the orders not being ready. The things Alpha Jimin requested are time-consuming and challenging to make. Once my familiar returns with some herbs, it’ll be ready.”

I was a whirlwind in my cottage, curling ribbons one moment, writing cards the next. Hoseok was used to my informal address in my home, and I was sure whomever he brought along was informed of my rudeness. I was too busy to care if some wolf thought I was a poor host.

“I apologize for the strain I have caused you,” a sweet, melodic voice spoke up.

My body froze, as did everything else in the room, before it started up again. I turned to the two men and bowed deeply, my heart racing.

“I am so, deeply sorry for disrespecting you, Alpha,” my voice shook. “I had not realized who had come in.”

Hoseok laughed, clapping his hands together. He always enjoyed seeing me flustered and would have a field day talking to Namjoon about this later. It seemed like Jimin was the only pack alpha who paid me little mind. I forced myself to look up at the man.

Dressed casually, more casually than I’d ever seen, his silver hair braided down his back, Jimin’s small frame still towered over me. That menacing aura surrounding him was intact. Even in daylight, Park Jimin was untouchable. And yet, a familiar longing found its way into my heart, and I knew I needed to distract myself.

“How much longer will your owl be, Bridd?” Hoseok asked, unbothered.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.

“Aren’t you lot meant to be infallible?” the alpha joked.

All Bridd were blessed with gifts. The first of us, the spirit, was responsible for selecting the ability, and those spirits became our companions as Shiloh had become mine. The Gods chose the gift that best served the forest. Aldara could only speak with owls and had a bit of foresight. The only other witch I knew with the same affinity was Enver, but his was more complex and accurate. I had my own limitations, unable to perform high-ranking spells due to the energy drain. My gift was both a blessing and a curse.

“That would be my aunt,” I joked back, unaware of the glare Jimin sent Hoseok’s way.

While Aldara’s gifts brimmed with power and the ability to foresee when to wield it, mine were rooted in the forest and its spirits. I could talk to any animal, regardless of my form. Yet, the most profound gift from Lilith was the power of mediumship. Auntie always said it was an intense gift, given only to those deemed worthy by the Gods. But I never fully believed that. As a child, weak and unable to grasp the gift's magnitude, spirits would possess me. I'd black out for hours and wake up somewhere random in the forest. They were trying to communicate, but I was oblivious. Though more attuned now, I still occasionally lost control.

Curling ribbons and assisting my charmed furniture with packaging, I half-listened to Hoseok rambling about Sol’s birthday. He wasn't interested, being mated for years, but was eager to see which of the three alphas Sol would choose. I made small talk, reminding him that the Gods made that choice. The Goddess of the Moon chose mates within the wolf packs. I found the idea of soulmates endearing. What would it feel like to be loved like that?

Every now and then, I stole glances at Jimin. He kept quiet, his eyes taking in my space with curiosity. I tried to recall if he'd been here before. Briefly, I remembered him helping me to bed after my first blessing ceremony with Namjoon. I was so battered afterward that I could no longer walk. Jimin, still a boy then, had assisted me with Hoseok, who was due for his own ceremony the following month.

“I am looking forward to the Luna's blessing ceremony,” I said, keeping the small talk lighthearted.

“I’m sure it will be an interesting experience,” Hoseok commented, touching every box of herbs he found. “How different is it from ours?”

The cottage hadn’t always been this cluttered. Auntie kept it neat and organized. She had just enough for the both of us, making it cozy in winter when we’d lay by the fire. Now, alone, I found it impossible to maintain the same structure. Where we used to lay was now a large table with herbs, flowers, crystals, and jars of specimens for potions. Beside it, a bookshelf filled with spell books. The rest of the Bridd grimoires were in the cellar. My little kitchen and potion-mixing station were overrun by bottles, boxes, and magical decorations. My bone collection sat in a display case by the front door, and my knives hung over the fireplace mantle.

“I’m sure Bridd does not want to answer that,” Jimin scolded Hoseok.

I forced myself to keep moving, though my body burned at the implication. Park Jimin defending me? It was almost too much to handle. I had a small flame for the alpha, but I knew better than to believe anything could happen between us. It would be too complicated, and we hardly knew one another. Still, it didn’t stop my skin from heating under his gaze.

“It’s alright,” I whispered. “It’s very different, but I’m not completely sure how. I still have a month to figure it out.”

“I wonder who the alpha will be,” Hoseok mused, grimacing at the bookshelf of grimoires before digging through the boxes again.

“Who knows,” Jimin answered before I could.

Shiloh returned then, angrily shouting about the “stupid dog” and his “even dumber owner.” I rushed to tend to my familiar. She looked disheveled, her normally cream-colored face caked in dirt. I could imagine her run-in with Mannix had gone as badly as she thought.

Fighting back a laugh, I took the basket from the owl before taking her into my arms.

“Whatever happened?”

As usual, Shiloh dramatically squawked and screeched about how much she disliked going to Jin’s house. She was on fire with anger and wanted to rip out the eyes of the “stupid, barbaric mutt.” I suspected she was trying to get more than a mouse hunting trip out of this. Knowing Shiloh, she’d complain until I agreed to visit Morla with her. For a spirit guide, Shiloh was surprisingly catty.

“Seokjin. Oh, that monster!” She placed a wing across her forehead. “He let his godforsaken, loudmouth, drooling mutt out on me!”

“Mannix,” I smirked, placing a hand over my heart. “Is a puppy. He’s not much bigger than you.”

She screeched in protest. “That dog is a giant, Y/N! At least fifty pounds and growing!”

“Oh, Shiloh, I’m so sorry,” I chuckled.

Mannix was just a baby the last time I saw him. Jin had gotten him from the market in Clarcton and called him a St. Bernard. They weren’t native to Lustra, so I knew little about the breed. Apparently, they grew much bigger than I thought. I’d have to write Jin and let him know his familiar was too big and rowdy to play well with mine.

“It was so embarrassing,” Shiloh grumbled, finally snapping out of her dramatic performance.

“And then the bees! I had to ask them for help. Me! Shiloh, the Bridd’s one and only familiar, asking those mongrels for help. Never send me back there again, Y/N. I beg of you!”

I rolled my eyes, walked her to our room, and helped her squeeze into her nesting box. While she usually slept in her large, cone-shaped nest outside, I let her sleep in my room when she stayed awake during the day to help me. I had built it as a child, gathering the wood while Aldara helped with the cutting, screwing, and other dangerous tasks. It was a nice size, 4x4, solid wood with a hole large enough for her to squeeze through. The inside was filled with dirt and sticks, just as she liked, along with a stuffed animal I’d given her when we became connected. The owl sighed and rushed to the dark side of the nest.

Chuckling, I went back to the kitchen and called out to Delinah from the window. She was still eating the cabbage I’d given her. The fawn looked at me.

“Whenever you’re finished, would you mind asking Nixie, one of the sea witches, if she could spare a vole or two? Shiloh is being dramatic again.”

Delinah laughed. Animals did it too, though not many were easy to detect. I had known the deer since she was a small fawn, so I knew her laughter well. Behind me, I heard Hoseok’s loud footsteps and remembered who I had in my house.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Great!”

I quickly spun back around and began to fix my hair. I hadn’t grown it back yet, but the nervous tick was still in full force. Hoseok was still looking around, unbothered, while Jimin remained rooted in the same spot. I worried I had annoyed him with our antics. While Hoseok was fond of the shenanigans in my home, Jimin was not. I’d always heard he was stern and serious with little patience for nonsense, but his stoic expression gave nothing away. I began to stack boxes and watch as they found their way into bags.

“Sorry,” I awkwardly laughed. “My familiar is a bit of a drama queen.”

“How is Shiloh?” Hoseok wondered, finally breaking away from the hundreds of items around him.

“Spunky,” I replied with a small smile.

I returned to the counter and started pulling out the items Seokjin had spared me. Just as I thought, he included everything I’d asked for and more, along with a note. With the boxes of medicine packed and ready to go, I decided to read the letter before diving back into work.

Y/N,

How splendid of “you” to drop by. I know Shiloh came in your absence, but I’ll expect you tonight. I’ll brew your favorite tea. Here are the ingredients you requested:

- 2 sunflower stems

- 12 sunflower seeds

- 3 baby’s breath bundles

- A small comb of honey

- 10 sprigs of vervain

I’ve added some extras for the gardening tools you made me this year. I know you use a lot of mint and sage, so expect plenty. I’ve also started growing lavender to balance out the sea coven’s needs for Yoongi.

Tea:

- 2-3 cups honeysuckle flowers (whole)

- 2 cups water

- Wild honey to taste

Much love,

Seokjin

I quickly put my cauldron on the flame and began to write back.

Jin,

Thank you for the supplies. The mint is lovely, and I’m glad to hear about the lavender. Remember, full sun and well-drained soil are best. Yoongi would be a better source for tips. The tools were a gift for being such a wonderful person and friend. Pass my thanks to Mannix. Shiloh came home with her dramatics again. Haven’t I told you to stop picking on her?

Tea sounds lovely, but I prefer the honeysuckle crushed. No honey—you know my diet.

May the Gods bring you joy,

Y/N

“As dramatic as always,” I said, folding the paper and stamping it with a wax seal. “Auferetur,” I commanded, and the paper incinerated.

“Sometimes I forget she’s not a person,” Hoseok joked, coming to the counter to watch me work.

The alpha enjoyed seeing the process of potion-making, though he didn’t pay much attention to the details. I used to explain what I was doing until I realized he just thought the cauldron was cool. I used to be the same as a child, but things change quickly in this life.

“Well, she’s technically a spirit, but I understand what you mean,” I said, throwing in the vervain sprigs.

Healing potions were the strangest to make. As soon as they were done, they had to be taken off the heat and placed into jars. Then, suspicious stones were added to preserve them. Without the opal, the potions only lasted two days before losing potency. Next was the baby’s breath.

“Is everything in your world a spirit?” Hoseok cocked an eyebrow.

“Hoseok,” Jimin warned.

He did it again. Of course, I didn’t need Jimin to save me from Hoseok. They were both at my mercy here, and it was impossible to imagine Hoseok ever harming me. He reminded me of Mannix more than any wolf, and his heart-shaped smile only added to his puppy-like nature. Still, I was touched by the gesture. I was reminded of how poorly I’d spoken of him last night and felt ashamed. Stealing another look, I appreciated how his waist tapered to a pair of long, straight legs.

"Just about," I murmured, using my magic to get the bottles to scoop up the potion themselves, leaving them hovering above the kitchen island, ready for action.

"Isn't it hard to do all of that at once?"

"Hoseok," I slipped, my irritation showing, "I'm the Bridd. Do you truly believe that little of me?"

He laughed, a sound that somehow felt like an embrace, "Well, no. I've just never seen any other witch do it before."

"Do you see other witches often?" I teased, a smile playing on my lips.

Jung Hoseok, a master charmer and one of the politest gentlemen in Lustra, grinned back at me. His mate, a woman I scarcely knew, was lucky to have him. It was rare for an alpha to mate with anyone other than an omega, but they had grown up together and fallen in love despite her beta status. Their wolves had always gravitated toward each other, but the true depth of their bond only became apparent after they both went through the change. She would have come to help Hoseok today, but she was taking care of her ill mother back in her hometown of Viridi Gramine.

"Only the grumpy man who lives near the pixie coves." I snorted.

"Yoongi?" I confirmed, amused. "The kitchen witch?"

Min Yoongi was another close friend of mine. While not as personable as Seokjin or the sea witch coven, he was reliable and ready to help at a moment's notice. Of course, he complained more than anyone else I knew and loathed uninvited guests, but I knew it was because he hadn't had proper time to make them a meal. He became reserved so he wouldn't let on how much he enjoyed company since it was so rare on his edge of the forest. It made me happy to know that Hoseok’s visits weren't limited to me and that the kitchen witch fed off his great energy.

“He’s a kitchen witch? Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s unorthodox, that’s for sure.” The potion was finally complete, and I quickly began lifting portions and filling the molds. “However, he is not a very sought-after host, so he can be clueless about manners or formalities. I’m afraid you’ll have to pardon him on my behalf.”

The entire house smelled of vervain, and I knew I would never hear the end of it. Shiloh was very particular, but I had grown used to her babbling. She hardly ever listened to any of my warnings until I reminded her that her reincarnation as a mortal relied on her being a good familiar. And yet, she always found a way to make my life harder. Still, I couldn't deny that the owl was my best friend. Or that I would be devastated if she didn’t get her wish granted. I wanted more than anything for her to become the beautiful red-headed woman she had always dreamed of, even if she liked to fly in like a bat out of hell and moan about bees attempting to make friends with her.

“What makes him a kitchen witch?” Hoseok always asked questions he never cared to learn the answer to. Anything to fill the silence.

It was a common question for non-magical people. While I would never consider a pack member a mortal, I knew better than to lump them in with us. Guardians, but all of their mysticism came from their shifting abilities, and since most wolves thought they were untouchable, they never did learn about magic regarding others. Witches, however, were expected to know everything there was to know about it. At least, that was my job, and as someone who did both, it was a tiring existence regardless.

“Well, all witches have the same base knowledge, but we can also have specialties,” I explained.

“And his is cooking?” Hoseok’s eyebrows knitted together.

I shook my head. “Something like that. It’s how he goes about cooking. There’s a fine art to kitchen witchery,” I tried to explain.

I was never considered a kitchen witch and knew only what I did because of our friendship. Growing up together, Yoongi, Seokjin, and Wendy, a girl from the sea coven, had been as thick as thieves. Our families were close, and our small group of four had gotten into enough trouble to last multiple lifetimes. Still, I knew the bare bones of each of their chosen magic. I was a forest witch like the other Bridd, but it had never bothered me. Generational magic was a common occurrence within covens.

Hoseok hummed in acknowledgment. Again, I looked at Jimin but couldn't pick anything out of his cool expression. He was no longer looking around the cottage and instead took to looking out of the large, rectangular window that took up the entire left side of the living room wall. He looked so ethereal in the sunlight. Agitated with myself, I again went back to pretending he wasn't here. I couldn't remember when these feelings began, but it had to have been years ago at this point. I could recall the warmth surrounding me during his presentation ceremony and how his wolf went frantic to get close to me. Of course, that was normal, and I paid it no mind, but I still allowed myself to wonder. My infatuation had only grown since then, a fact he had to be aware of, and I was grateful he never commented on it. Even the custos of Bangtan was a gentleman. Another wave of shame overcame me.

“What kind of witch are you?”

“I’m a forest witch,” I replied curtly, making sure to keep my eyes away from Jimin.

Hoseok didn't ask about my magic, but I assumed he thought it was too self-explanatory. Once all the bottles were filled and on the counter, I began to quickly place the stones in the center of the liquid. Soon it would become a jelly-like consistency that tasted like strawberries. It would be a week before the stones were dissolved, and they wouldn't be usable within that time frame. I moved swiftly, aware that they had been here far longer than they should have been. Hoseok never minded the longer visits, but I would feel guilty if I held Jimin up any longer than I already had.

“Are they ready to be used?”

My concentration slipped momentarily, causing the bottles to drop slightly. Quickly regaining control, I lifted them back up and continued putting the stones into the bottles. I hadn't expected Jimin to speak, and his silky voice threw me off. He was so soft-spoken, and the tone of his voice was sweet and smooth that it was difficult to imagine him as the war leader. His cherub face only made it more difficult. Jimin was too beautiful to fight.

“No,” I replied with great effort to keep my voice even. “They will need a week to be fully effective. Don’t open them until the stones are dissolved, or they’ll spoil and be useless.”

“Is everything else ready now?” Hoseok chimed in.

While I was pleasantly surprised he had been listening, I didn't let it show. He would most likely close his ears the second he grew bored. Boredom and silence were Hoseok’s worst enemies, and his mind drifted even more when Hyuna wasn't around. She was one of the few people that could make him hang on their every word. The only others I had seen the same restraint with were the other alphas and his older sister.

“Yes.”

Just as I had thought, Hoseok was back to touching things and wondering out loud. I never minded. He was unusually quiet today, and I guessed that Jimin had something to do with that. He always said the younger man was far too serious and concerned about unimportant things. However, I found that hard to believe. If he were so strict, he would have demanded I move quickly and would at the very least look annoyed with how slow I was moving. Instead, Jimin seemed comfortable waiting however long I needed. Still, I didn't want to push my luck.

“How do you even make these?”

The stones were all in the bottles, and I charmed the corks to cork themselves. That was the worst part of potion making, and I refused to make myself do that. Aldara had done it all by hand. Looking at what Hoseok was talking about, I smiled brightly.

“Bones, sandpaper, and a lot of patience.”

My knife collection was my most prized possession, only beat out by the cellar. All of them were made with bones I found while foraging and various types of leaves to make the handles. None of them were the beautiful steel that the people of Northorn used, but I adored them nonetheless. My favorite, by far, was the small one on the very far right. It was the first knife I ever made, and while the unsightliness of the bunch, it held a special place in my heart.

It had been made after a deer I was fond of passed on. His name had been Davian, and he was an older buck filled with fun facts and information. I was heartbroken when he stopped showing up to our playdates, and Aldara agreed to look for him after a few weeks. We ended up finding his bones, and Aldara comforted me with the idea of keeping a piece of him the way she had with a bird friend she had as a child. I took his scapula, and we came up with the idea of a knife. He quickly became my new favorite hobby. I had an entire wall in the cellar dedicated to my knives and hoped my future student would get great use out of them in the future.

“They’re beautiful,” Jimin complimented in his soft, angel-like voice.

The enchanted items made quick work of the boxing, and I took my time writing the note card. Since these suppressants worked differently than the liquid version, I needed to be highly detailed in my instructions. Unlike normal alphas, Jimin couldn’t drink his medicine since his wolf had a habit of rejecting it.

“You can take them now if you’d like.” I turned my attention back to the two alphas once the note was secured in the final box.

The air shifted slightly as Jimin joined me at the island. He was taller than me by several inches and had a sturdier frame. Unlike Hoseok, Jimin’s scent was faint. Almost nonexistent, really. It was normal for higher-ranking alphas and how they kept those below them in line. Jimin’s pack smelled like lavender and dandelions, while he smelled of nothing. It always piqued my curiosity. I always wondered what he smelled like to those he cared about and if it was just as intoxicating.

Jimin reached out to one of the bottles. He moved slowly and cautiously as if afraid he’d spook me. It was rare for people to see witches practice magic, but he didn’t need to handle me like I was prey. Still, the closer he got, the drier my mouth became, and I couldn’t bear to look at him. I was sure he was getting some sort of enjoyment from how flustered he made me.

His hand brushed against mine. Just a light touch, but it sent shivers down my spine. I turned my head to see him looking directly at me. His expression was soft and his gaze was warm. He was aware of the effect he had on me, and I felt the embarrassment rise within me again.

"Thank you, Bridd," he said softly, his voice as gentle as a caress.

I managed a nod, my heart pounding. "You're welcome, Jimin."

With that, he took the bottle and stepped back. Hoseok, oblivious to the tension, clapped his hands together. "Well, that’s that! Let's get these to the pack."

They gathered up the boxes, and I walked them to the door. Hoseok gave me a playful wink. "Don't be a stranger, Bridd. We like having you around."

Jimin nodded in agreement. "Yes, please visit us sometime. The pack would be honored."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I'll consider it. Safe travels, both of you."

As they left, I watched them disappear into the woods. The cottage felt empty and quiet without their presence. Sighing, I went back inside, already missing the brief company. Shiloh swooped down from her perch, landing gracefully on the counter.

"They're quite something, aren't they?" she commented, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, they are. Quite something indeed."

With the potion complete and the cottage returning to its usual stillness, I allowed myself a moment to reflect. Life as the Bridd was often solitary, but it had its moments of connection and warmth, reminding me that even in the depths of the forest, I was never truly alone.

The sun was setting when I finally woke, and I was thankful the change hadn't woken me up. Transforming had not always been so painful for my family, but legend says that once Rosette became the first Brigg, her natural ability to shift had become the most painful experience in her life. Aldara told me it was a sacrifice she made to protect her sister, but I always thought it was a cruel and unusual punishment. The sun was almost completely set, and Shiloh was nowhere to be seen. She must have left already. I would have to fulfill my promise another day.

Stretching, I decided to head into the kitchen and put down some towels. Blood was a nightmare to get out of fabric, but I’d take that over scrubbing the hardwood floors. There was already enough staining on the dark wood, and I didn't like adding to it. After setting my towels down, I sat and waited for the sun to set.

Suddenly, I felt the metal around my leg loosen slightly and knew it was time. I stood up, and instant, contorting pain took over. The world began to get bigger as I shrank down, and I cried out as the first feathers burst from my legs. Having seen Bridd’s transformation with my own eyes, I knew how horrifying it was to witness, and I was glad Shiloh and I were the only ones to see me like this. More feathers ripped through my skin, blood staining the floors, the sensation akin to a hot branding iron pressed against my flesh.

My body burned and twisted in agony. Falling to my knees, I screamed as my beak began to break through my skin. Even after all this time, shifting never got easier. Aldara had said it was the only true pain a Bridd could feel. If I could, I would tell her she was wrong. Flashes of fire invaded my vision, and I fell to the ground, a loud caw echoing off the walls.

It didn’t take long to get out of the pile of tattered clothes surrounding me. I was glad I was wearing something I wasn’t overly fond of. I’d use the scraps as tea towels and sew something new. Still, I should have considered taking off my clothes. I really was out of sorts today.

Flapping my wings, I felt light and energetic in this form, a stark contrast to my weighed-down human body. There were pros and cons to being a raven, but I always wished I could be like this more often—or at least whenever I chose. I resented my sun and moon routine, but this was the life of my kind. There was nothing I could do to change that.

I took flight and set off toward the trees. Shiloh would be with Morla now since the mice usually didn’t come out until the moon was higher. For her, I could sit and waste away my nights listening to overdramatic and hyperbolized stories and then eat mice that never tasted very good. I hoped this would ease her mind about this afternoon.

A few days later, I found myself sitting at my dining table. It was freakishly large, round, and stained a disgusting teal color, but Aldara had loved it, and so I did as well. None of the chairs matched, but I think it added to its charm. I hoped all the windows in the house would let in the fresh spring air. Beltane was a week away, and I was happy to celebrate the return of summer. I would write Jin and ask if he could bring me some wood for my fireplace so I could have my own little bonfire.

The morning sun was soft, and I smiled at the smell of rain that clung to the air. My meadow rarely saw the fog that covered the rest of Bangtan, but I adored the way dew smelled on the grass. Everything sparkled and shined, made more magnificent by the sprouting wildflowers slowly making their way through the ground. Sights like this made me even more excited for the return of summer. This year, I would try to host a Summer Solstice gathering for Litha, but I’d likely forget about it.

I made a mental note to write it down, but I also knew I was likely to forget that as well. Then, I told myself not to forget. I scoffed at my internal dialogue. Taking another sip of my tea, I sighed as I stared out the window. My favorite seat in the cottage gave me the perfect view of the flower fields, and I began to reminisce about playing in the grass as a child. Most of the memories I had were with Yoongi, but Jin and Wendy made their way into our little duo eventually. We were older when everyone got close enough to be considered best friends. I frowned, thinking about how complicated things got once we all reached our late teens. It saddened me to think that we would never be as close as we were as pre-teens.

“I’m going to sleep for a while,” Shiloh’s soft voice reached my ears. She was in her nest; I could make out the sounds of her talons against the wood, and I knew she was exhausted. She had spent the entire night out with Morla and Patto. “Wake me if you need something.”

“You should sleep outside,” I whispered back. “I will need to use the kitchen in a little while and might wake you.”

Shiloh shuffled around some more, and I heard her fly out the window. The faint rustling of tree leaves made me grin. My hearing was not as good as Shiloh’s or any of the wolves, but I was pleased with what I could make out. All my friends found it impressive when we were kids, but after Jin said I was a showoff when we turned twelve and made me cry, the conversation surrounding my slightly enhanced senses dropped.

I went through two more cups of tea before I saw the flash of white from the other side of the tree line. Squinting, I tried to make out the shape but couldn’t see enough of whatever it was to be useful. However, its size gave me a few hints. It was a wolf, and if the gentle whimpers were anything to go by, it was hurt. Putting down my cup, I called out to the wolf.

“Are you injured?” I asked, knowing the wolf could hear me once the whining stopped. “If so, then I can help you. I have enough supplies to get you back to the forest in a few minutes.”

The wolf seemed to consider this for a moment, as it didn’t move toward me. I suspected this was the same wolf from the other night, but I couldn’t say with certainty. White wolves were not a rare occurrence—Jimin was a beautiful white-silver color, as was Ahn. I scowled at the comparison. That was where the similarities ended. While I was busy with my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the wolf getting closer until it was almost at my window.

“Come around the other side. You might need to shift back to fit through the door.”

The wolf seemed uncomfortable by this. I saw red stains on his hind legs, but I would need him to let me help if he wanted them to heal nicely. Wolves could heal scars and injuries like anyone else, but magic sped up the process and ensured a good recovery. This wolf would know that, but perhaps he felt self-conscious about someone knowing him as weak. Wolves were too prideful.

“Or,” I sighed when I realized the wolf wouldn’t shift, “I could teleport you inside and back outside. It feels a bit strange at first but it’s harmless.”

The wolf’s tail wagged happily, so I took that as my answer. I began to sing an incantation while picturing the spot in my living room. I thought about the red and white patterned rug as well as my sewing chair. I counted every stone that made up my fireplace and the knives that hung above it. I began to think about my small kitchen with its black cabinets, too large dining table, and mismatched chairs. My altar sat in front of the large windows at the front of the house, with beautiful, scented candles on it. All of it combined into one perfect picture of the cottage with a complete rendition of the rug I wanted the wolf to walk on. Feeling confident about my image, I began to draw the shape of a door with my fingertips and pushed it open with my hands.

The wolf looked excited by the magic show, and his tail began to wave frantically. I frowned when I noticed the slight limp he walked with, but he was already walking through the door I drew outside. In the next second, the door opened into my living room, and the wolf walked inside. I gawked at the sheer size of the white wolf and hoped he wouldn’t break my things. I might have to shrink him down to size after all. I asked the wolf if that would be alright, and he sat down like an obedient dog. A picture of Mannix came to mind, and I hid a giggle with a hand.

The wolf was now only twice the size of a coyote. A far better size to move around in my tiny space, the wolf limped off the rug and onto the wood floors. I stopped him from going any further and asked him to lay down so I could look over him.

I approached the wolf with little caution. I was glad to see my anxiety from the other day was gone, and I could touch the wolf’s wounds with ease. I could faintly feel my breathing get heavier but not uncomfortably so. I could help this wolf, who I was now certain was the same one from before. He had the same bright eyes and fluffy hair. Touching the bloodied fur, I scowled. These were teeth and claw marks, and I was angry at whoever had done this to my little friend.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” I teased, trying to cut through the gloom that had settled between us. “Sneaking out of the village and now brawling with who knows what. What would your mother say?”

The wolf huffed, though his eyes sparkled with a touch of amusement. They were warm and rich, like polished mahogany, but with a glimmer of amber. It was an odd mix, but somehow it reminded me of Jimin’s eyes, though I’d never seen them quite so alive with emotion.

I chuckled, rising to fetch the healing salves I kept scattered around. After all the times I’d sliced my fingers and burned my hands, I’d learned to keep remedies at the ready. This particular cream was the best I’d ever concocted and would be one of the first things I taught my successor. Simple but effective. The wolf remained still on the floor, watching me intently.

“Well, little wolf,” I said, my smile softening as I kneeled beside him. “Let’s get acquainted. I’ll start, and the next time we meet, it’ll be your turn.”

I began applying the salve to the jagged wounds on his flank. The healing was already underway, but I hoped to prevent any lingering scars. The salve clung to his fur, and I knew it would aid in the healing process. Nothing a good bath couldn’t fix later.

“People call me Bridd,” I said, concentrating on the application of the salve. “But if you’re going to hang around here, call me Y/N. Bridd sounds too formal for friends.”

“Y/N was the name my aunt gave me when I arrived. No one really knows how we ended up here, but we all agree the Gods had a hand in it. Aldara saw me and knew immediately it was the right name.”

I rifled through the tin, quickly discovering how much of it was sticking to his fur. I had to do the other side, so I went in search of more containers. I returned with four more and resumed my work. The wolf raised an eyebrow at me, clearly amused, and I laughed at my own absent-mindedness.

“I wish I knew your name,” I muttered. “Or your gender. Calling you ‘wolf’ seems rather impolite.”

The wolf let out a strange laugh, and I was taken aback. I’d always thought deer had the oddest laughs, but I was wrong. Wolves took the cake. Perhaps it was just this one. I grinned, contemplating a game.

“Shake your head yes or no,” I said. The wolf lifted his head from his paws. “Are you a woman?”

He shook his head.

“Fluid?” I asked, aware of the existence of wolves who didn’t conform to traditional gender roles. The wolf shook his head again. “So, you’re a man?”

The wolf nodded, his eyes twinkling with humor. I smiled and gestured for him to turn over. This side was more battered, and I scolded him for making me wait. He huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not a fan of being fussed over.

I paid closer attention now. The bites and claw marks were deeper here, reaching the underside of his ribcage. I worked in silence, pushing fur out of the way to see the wounds better. The white fur tickled my wrists as I worked, and I struggled to keep it aside.

I cleaned off the bloodstains, revealing more bite marks. After applying more salve, I double-checked his body and hips. Once satisfied, I rewashed his fur. The wolf’s leg kicked when I scrubbed his right side, and I laughed.

“You’re good to go,” I said, patting his side.

The wolf’s ears pulled back, and he seemed reluctant to leave. We both knew he needed to get back to the village before they sent out a search party. As much as I wanted him to stay, I knew he’d be uncomfortable if they found him here. He shuffled closer and placed his head in my lap. I played with his ears, reluctant to let him go. It was nice to be around someone who simply enjoyed my company without any strings attached.

“Don’t worry, little wolf,” I whispered, burying my hand in the fur on his head. “You’re always welcome here.”

A week and a half after Hoseok’s visit, I had reignited the cauldron to tackle an order. Yoongi had back orders, and the sea coven was growing impatient. The potions were straightforward, and Delinah had gone to secure the necessary supplies. I’d sent Yoongi a letter to let him know I was back on my feet. He had sent bowl after bowl of soup laced with the finest healing magic and enough drinks to stock a small bar. I had to beg him to stop before my fridge was overflowing. He would be relieved to know I was back to magic and foraging.

I planned to visit Foxglove after sundown. Sol had asked me to come when I was well enough, and I figured now was as good a time as any. I’d finish my daily tasks, then prepare to see Sol. A shower was in order—I smelled terrible. After the meeting, I’d fly to Foxglove to hand-deliver a couple of apology letters to Jimin and Hoseok for my outburst. I knew they weren’t strictly necessary, but I’d feel better once I’d done it.

“You have a letter,” Shiloh called as she entered the kitchen, a small blue envelope clasped in her beak. Probably Yoongi again.

“Thanks, darling,” I said, reaching for the envelope.

Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. Since Shiloh’s been by, I’m guessing you’re on the mend and well enough for her to make the journey across Bangtan. Do write back and let me know how you’re faring. Can I drop by tonight? Just want to make sure you’re still kicking.

Yoongi

I chuckled, shaking my head. It wasn’t like Yoongi to ask for permission to come over. We were close in age—he was two years my senior—and his mother had been a close friend of Aldara’s when she was alive. Back then, we’d run wild in flower fields until I got possessed, and Yoongi had to undertake the daunting task of finding me. My power had been far more volatile and frightening back then, but he still thought I was the most incredible witch around. Even if he couldn’t say it outright now, I knew that sentiment lingered. I prepared some paper and ink to write back.

The night was windy, my feathers ruffling with the breeze. I’d just finished meeting with Sol. We had to meet in shifted form; my bird could only speak with wolves who were fully shifted. As a human, I had no such luck. It was a limitation of my abilities, but it didn’t trouble anyone too much. The elders were also present to ensure Luna’s safety. I caught Ahn’s gaze, which was full of barely concealed disdain, and had to bite back the sharp retorts bubbling in my throat.

“I’m glad to see you’re recovering,” Sol greeted me.

“Thank you, Luna. I’m afraid I’ve caused quite a stir in Foxglove. For that, I apologize.”

Sol laughed and gave a lazy swat with her paw. “Please, Bridd. No need to apologize. You were already exhausted when the alphas arrived. It’s no wonder your instincts took over. We are predators, after all.”

After exchanging pleasantries and assuring everyone I would be present for Luna’s presentation ceremony next week, they bid me goodnight. Sol sent me home with a small gift—a wolf pendant adorned with pearls. When I asked what it signified, she merely smiled before shifting back into a human. Her silence left my curiosity hanging, but it was quickly overshadowed by my second task for the night.

Hyuna had returned less than a week earlier, so I avoided interrupting their reunion. I slipped the letter into their mailbox but felt it was a bit impersonal. Still, I knew they would understand and appreciate it. I could almost picture Hyuna’s face turning bright red when she realized why I had kept my distance. The thought made me smile, lifting my spirits as I flew toward Jimin’s home.

Finding the alpha’s residence was straightforward. He lived in the barracks with the copiae, the village warriors, in the largest bungalow. Unlike the other homes, which boasted furniture and decor, Jimin’s place was stark and barren, giving no hint of its occupant. His mailbox was a small, black box with a slit at the top. I couldn’t find a way to alert him to my presence, and knocking was out of the question. Seeing the lights on, I decided to find him.

I took a deep breath and began circling the house until I spotted the alpha. He was awake, sitting at his desk. His hair was pulled up into a messy bun, strands sticking out in every direction. He wore a white tank top that clung to his well-defined muscles like a second skin. The tribal tattoo of the copiae, an Aquila emblazoned on his creamy neck, was partially covered by his shirt. I took a moment to enjoy the sight, wondering how long it would take him to notice me. In the moonlight and candle glow, Jimin was a vision.

A strong gust of wind threatened to give me away. Aldara had said my scent could be detected from a mile away. Jimin lifted his head, sniffed the air, and then turned sharply toward the trees. Our eyes met, and I hopped onto his windowsill. It took him a moment to grasp what was happening, but soon he was opening the window, a small smile playing on his lips. He looked so young and approachable, and I lost myself in his scent as the window creaked open.

“Good evening, Bridd,” he said, his voice smooth like silk. I inclined my head in response.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I forgot we can’t speak like this.”

I nodded and shook the bag from my neck. Jimin’s eyes lit up as he picked it up. My heart raced. He had always been a figure I both admired and feared, but right now, he was simply a man I cared for deeply. I often felt foolish for desiring someone I could never truly have, and guilt for even considering a relationship. But in this moment, with the moonlight dancing on his face and the warm glow of candles behind him, those thoughts felt distant.

“Is this for me?” he asked, and I nodded.

Jimin extended his hand, and though it felt strange, I hopped onto his waiting palm. We’d never been this familiar, but perhaps seeing me in a state of panic had stirred some pity in him. That thought bothered me more than it should have, but it was easier to think of it as him extending an olive branch, wanting me to feel at ease. That was a far more pleasant notion.

“I’m glad to see you flying around again. I heard you were bedridden the past few days.”

I tilted my head, and he understood the unspoken question. “Morla,” he confirmed. It made sense.

Jimin placed me gently on his bed, and I took in the room’s warm ambiance. The stark contrast to the outside was striking. His room was softly illuminated by candles, with a rich vanilla scent wafting through the air. Sage burned in a corner, and various pieces of armor decorated the walls. A large scroll with his name and two small paw prints hung prominently. It was a tradition for wolves to display such symbols after their presentation ceremony. Above the scroll hung his family’s sword, alongside drawings of his family. Jimin settled beside me and began unpacking the bag. He opened my letter first.

My Dearest Alpha,

I’m writing to offer my sincerest apologies for the outburst that transpired. I’m at a loss to explain what overtook me—one moment I was calm, and the next, I could barely breathe. Panic is a frequent visitor, though it’s usually not triggered by wolves. I hope you can forgive me. To make amends, I’ve included a small gift.

I trust you’ll find the knife to your liking. It’s one of my older creations, made from an elk’s scapula and shaped into an arrow-like blade. I wrapped the handle in twine, tree sap, and moss to give it a sturdier grip, though it was too cumbersome for my use. I hope it finds a better home with you rather than gathering dust in my cellar. There’s also a tin of tea leaves included. Would you care for a cup?

Bridd

Jimin’s face lit up with a bright smile as he examined the items I’d packed. I turned away, feeling a tinge of shyness. The knife, crafted with care from an elk’s scapula, had been a labor of love. Its handle, thick and wrapped in twine, tree sap, and moss, had been designed to be sturdy, though it had always felt too unwieldy for my own use. Seeing Jimin’s appreciation for it, as though it were forged from the finest steel, swelled my chest with pride.

“Tea sounds lovely, amica. I’ll prepare my favorite.”

The term “amica” was unfamiliar to me, though it sounded endearing. Wolves had their own array of nicknames; Hoseok and Hyuna used “caritate,” meaning love. This new word could mean friend or something akin. I’d have to ask Hoseok about it when next we met.

Jimin, though short for a wolf, was still towering over me. At two feet taller than I, his lean, muscular frame was devoid of excess fat. His physique was as agile as it was strong. I couldn’t recall ever seeing him stumble or hearing the faintest sound of his footsteps. As I admired his form, a fresh wave of heat coursed through me—he was nothing short of divine.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand once more. “I’d like to enjoy a cup of tea with you while we chat.”

I hopped into his hand without hesitation, savoring the warmth radiating from him. Wolves, much like vampires, were unaffected by the chill of the night. Where vampires were icy to the touch, wolves maintained a comforting warmth even in a blizzard. Jimin’s skin was a soothing contrast to the windy night.

His home mirrored the coziness of his bedroom. Personal artifacts adorned the walls, and warm light bathed the space. The living room featured a large sofa, a table, and a fireplace, with a glass display case on the mantle showcasing significant mementos, including the feather from his ceremony. I spotted his alpha sash tucked away in a corner. A large bay window, previously unnoticed, was lined with blankets and pillows, with a slender bookcase nearby. An open book rested atop the fabric mountain, its title hidden from view.

The kitchen was modest, akin to my own, with only the essentials. I marveled at his stove—a sleek, black, cast-iron model with a firewood compartment. It far surpassed the one at my cottage. The only personal touches were two towels draped over the oven handle and a bottle of red wine on the counter. The label indicated it was from Virdi Gramine. Though not as prestigious as a Northorn vintage, I’d heard eastern wines were delightful.

Jimin placed me on the counter and set about boiling water for the tea. He examined the tin of lemon balm tea I’d brought—a favorite of mine, sent by Thelma whenever I was running low. While I usually drank black tea, hot and unsweetened, lemon balm was a robust change of pace. I hoped Jimin would find it to his liking.

“Are you feeling better?” Jimin asked with a chuckle, clearly forgetting my current form made conversation challenging.

I squawked in acknowledgment, wishing for the ease of silent company like I had with Seokjin. Jimin held up a finger and disappeared into his bedroom, reemerging with ink and paper. I was touched by his effort; it was rare for someone to accommodate my avian form so thoughtfully. Dipping my talon into the ink, I scrawled, “I’m feeling better” in my clumsy bird-like script, my usual handwriting much neater.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jimin said, his smile bright. “I hope you’ve been getting some rest. I apologize for rushing you so soon after Taehyung’s blessing. It won’t happen again.”

He retrieved a bowl of blueberries and a lemon from his cooler. Curious, I leaned in as he zest the lemon and added it to the blueberries, then poured everything into the kettle. It was a new trick for enhancing tea, and I was eager to learn from it.

After sealing the kettle, Jimin poured the tea I’d brought into it and retrieved five other containers from the cupboard. I chuckled softly—never had I witnessed such a convoluted tea-making process. It reminded me of Seokjin, who would relish such complexity. I watched with renewed interest as Jimin began his elaborate preparation.

“Is this too much?” I asked with a laugh before he could protest.

I dipped my talon into the ink and began to write, a task I’d grown accustomed to. When urgent messages needed sending in the dead of night, I had to be swift and clear. Jimin’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he waited for me to finish.

“Not if it’s something you like. My friends would probably enjoy this tea, and I’m curious.”

Jimin’s smile widened, shy and warm. “This is something my sister-in-law taught me.”

She must be quite particular to use all these blends. I assume you’re fond of blueberries.

“Clever girl,” he teased, and I blushed at his gentle ribbing. “Do you not like them? I can make something else.”

I love blueberries.

He hummed thoughtfully. As the kettle began to whistle, Jimin swiftly removed it from the heat and prepared our cups. I admired him again—my previous impression of him as big and intimidating was shifting. Seeing him now, meticulously blending chamomile flowers, peppermint leaves, and hibiscus into his tea, I realized how little I truly knew about him. Outside of his duties, Jimin was a kind soul.

“Now we steep,” he said, extracting empty tea bags and another kettle. He placed the mixture into two bags and filled the kettle with water. I tapped the counter to get his attention and began writing again.

Do you add sugar?

He shook his head, removing the tea bags and adding blueberries to the mix. He gestured for me to relax in his living room while he brought over the tea. I flew to the sink, turned on the water, and rinsed off the ink to avoid leaving a mess. Shaking myself dry, I found Jimin watching me with a soft smile. I settled at the table as he carried our cups to the sofa.

The tea was sweeter than I preferred, but I sipped it slowly, lifting my head and opening and closing my mouth to get it down. Even though the process wasn’t the most relaxing, I found no reason to complain in Jimin’s company. He drank deeply, seemingly unaffected by the heat. He glanced at me with curiosity, his eyes holding a hint of wonder.

“You didn’t have to apologize.”

I knew I didn’t, but I needed him to understand. Something inside me had urged me to make amends, despite my instincts telling me he wouldn’t hold a grudge. I had to show him how much I’d been thinking about him, how deeply I cared.

“Did you do the same for Hoseok?”

I nodded and started to write again. Jimin stood and retrieved a towel from a small closet by the bedroom door. I finished writing and hovered so he could place the towel underneath me.

Hoseok was busy when I flew by. I left him a note with a plate of muffins. He quite likes strawberries.

Jimin hummed in approval, seeming pleased with my response. I felt a flush of shyness; Hoseok would have dismissed my gesture. Jimin, however, remained an enigma. His shifting moods were bewildering, but it was becoming clearer he was trying to connect with me. He even apologized for any fright he may have caused.

“Well, while I’m grateful for everything, it wasn’t necessary.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Jimin was right; I had overdone it. I should have simply dropped off the items and left. He would have discovered them on his own. Even if a curious wolf had found the tea, it would have been less disruptive than making him feel guilty. Feeling like I’d made another misstep, I stopped drinking my tea and prepared to leave.

“Though I must admit, I’m enjoying spending time with you. You’re close with the other alphas—except Taehyung. I’m a bit envious.”

My heart skipped a beat. Jealous? Of the others? It was impossible to keep my heart from soaring. Was he truly fond of me? Why only now? The part of me that worried about his mate tried to surface, but I pushed it aside. My feelings for him blossomed into something beautiful, though I knew it could never be reciprocated.

“I should only blame myself for that,” he continued, placing his cup down. “I wasn’t very good at making you feel comfortable talking with me, and for that, I apologize.”

I hesitated but hopped closer, hoping he could see my gesture of forgiveness. He didn’t quite grasp it and continued to murmur apologies for his supposed “rudeness.” Frustrated, I tapped the table again and began to write. Jimin grew silent, leaning in to read.

You did nothing wrong, Alpha. I promise.

“I’m happy to say we’re friends now,” Jimin said with a bright grin. “Hopefully, I can brag about our closeness like Sol does.”

His kind words and affectionate tone confused me. Jimin had always seemed distant, reserved even. Now, his gentleness was a revelation. This moment was ours alone, and I knew I’d keep it close, away from the prying eyes of others, particularly Jin, who had long known of my quiet admiration.

“It’s very late, amica. You should head home. Dawn is approaching.”

I squawked and gave a quick bow. I heard the soft call of “ten” and realized I needed to leave immediately. I had to fly swiftly to make it home before dawn. I mentally thanked the spirits for their guidance, took one last look at Jimin—his smile gentle, eyes heavy with exhaustion—and squawked once more before taking to the night sky.

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795

So, this is very different. After rereading the first two chapters I felt like they could have been handled so much better, and I set out to remedy this as quickly as possible. We have a new title, new banner, and even a new nickname for our MC. I hope you guy enjoy this new-ish journey we are about to embark on and I, for one, am super stoked for the future. Love you.

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bittertarot · 10 months

Note

Jk's future spouse bonding with BTS members n their first impressions about each other. Wanna say something to you that I truly appreciate your honesty & love you for that 💞

Ooh, this might be a bit of a long one, so sit tight and enjoy! Thank you so much for the support, btw <3 BTS Members First Impression of Jungkook's Future Spouse : Namjoon/RM : *Knight of Swords Reversed* - He might not be too pleased, he'll feel like she's too opinionated, which will anger him a bit. He may feel like Jungkook was reckless and impulsive when getting into this relationship at first, he'll feel like there's too much going on with her and that she might drag Jungkook into her own personal problems. Seokjin/Jin : *Knight of Wands Reversed* Damn, again?? I suppose they'll have similar opinions, especially since him and Namjoon are like the parents of the group. So, same opinion as Namjoon but he may be a bit more guarded with her than Namjoon. JHope : *4 of Cups* - He'll feel a bit disconnected from her at first, since she'll be a bit of an outsider to the group, he won't know her at all, etc. Jungkook's like a younger brother to him, so he'll heavily contemplate/question if Jk really knows what he's getting into. He may find her somewhat apathetic at first too? Yoongi : *7 of Swords Reversed* - Oo, this is quite different. He'll find her as quite an intellectual person to speak to, as shown by Swords. He'll feel as though she has some sort of desire to change and reform, she may even discuss that with him a little. He'll want to help her turn over this new leaf and will offer insightful advice to her. They may also talk about spirituality or philosophical topics as shown via the number 7. Jimin : *The Wheel of Fortune Reversed* - He'll feel as though she has no control over her life or is clinging to that control, despite it slipping through her fingers like sand. As the wheel turns and changes, so will his opinion of her. He'll grow fond of her VERY quickly and view her as a younger sister. V/Taehyung : *8 of Pentacles Reversed* - He'll feel like she's very emotionally out of touch and like she has no focus/direction as to where she wants to go in life. He'll feel like she's looking for change and will be worried that she doesn't love Jungkook and is only with him because she doesn't know what she's doing. More importantly, he's worried that the 2 of them will get caught by the media as they'll both be in the beginning stages of the relationship and love tends to grow quickly during this period. However, his worries will be cooled quickly by Jk's FS and he'll soon become close friends with her. So, in order of most-least fond of her when they first meet during Jk's dating phase with her; Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, JHope, Namjoon, Jin. I hope you enjoyed this reading, dear soul, thank you for joining me <3

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blu-archer · 1 year

Text

Only fools catch colds

Sickie; Joon

caretaker; Yoongi

a/u - based in that universe where magic and hybrids and all that fun stuff exist, and takes place before any of the other fic's in the universe so we have rm/yoongi roommates living daily life I guess.

No warnings, its all very standard. I don't really know what to label it as..

Purely platonic with the mention of NamJin.

Also did I make Yoongi mildly germophobic - maybe. But read it as you will.

Please enjoy and ignore the usual mistakes! Sorry it's a bit rushed![I am sick and sleep deprived, so it might not be great💀]

word count: 3499

***

Business was slow. Not that anything related to part timing in this half assed antique store was fast, but it was definitely slower than usual. Namjoon had been sitting at the register for the past 2 hours trying to prep materials for potions that he needed to make later and the pounding in his head had yet to ease off despite already having two caffeine fixes since clocking in.

His neck and back ached, most likely from this god-awful stool, and it took all his will power not to text his boyfriend -who unlike him- had a fulltime job and was busy doing ‘proper adulting’ things. So he didn’t really want to disturb Jin, instead he was counting the seconds until Yoongi would arrive to drive them home. He would still technically be on working hours when he goes since he would be brewing potions for clients (a side gig that him and his roommate had recently started up once they’d left the Academy) but at least he’d be at home. Warm, clean, and far more peaceful than any other place he’d ever visited ever since Yoongi spelled the apartment to suppress any unnecessary sounds.

He sighed, taking a moment to massage at his temple even though it didn’t ease any of the pain. He could hear the shop owner rummaging in the back of the store and the sounds of cars and wind bellowing from outside. Everything sounding louder.

He was bagging up the last of his herbs, dusting off the small bits he couldn’t scoop up when he had to pause with a sudden stuttering breath before crunching towards his lap with a surprisingly damp sneeze. Sniffling with a frown, he rubbed his nose once everything was bagged but was unable to relieve the itch that had rapidly buried itself in his sinuses.

The fine dust clinging to some of his ground materials must finally be catching up to him. He didn’t have any allergies, not like how Yoongi reacted to dust, but it still left him irritated at times. Now, apparently , even more so than usual. Just one more thing to go against him today it seems.

The gentle ‘ding’ of the shop door opening had his heart skip with the hope of leaving, but he was only met with a wind tousled customer. The first since he’d replaced his boss in the front that morning. Usually he’d be excited for some new interactions to distract him from how positively boring it can get, but he found himself having to force his smile towards the new face as he watched them casually stroll around the store.

“Namjoon-ah?” His boss called from the small office. “Can you run upstairs to storage and grab some of the new stock that got sent in? There’s some glassware and other collectables in quite large crates, I forgot to mention it earlier.”

Of course he would be given work right before he wanted to leave.

He quickly shoved his bagged materials into his satchel and moved to the storage room after letting his boss know to keep an eye in the front.

It thankfully wasn’t a lot of work, just seven crates that were a lot heavier than they looked, but he was lucky enough that he didn’t have to shelve and price them as well. That of course did nothing to ease his aching muscles and the irritation that the musky air and dust was causing to his sinuses. By the time he’d reached the last crate, he had been forced to start sniffing and rubbing his nose with his wrist to keep his need to sneeze at bay. The last thing he needed was to sneeze when carrying glass down a flight of stairs – he was clumsy enough as it was.

He had raced through and made it to the office without too much of a falter, dropping the final crate off before he could finally cave. He stared breathlessly into the sharp florescent light until he pitched forward into a fit of harsh sneezes.

“Dust bothering you?”

Sniffling, he nodded sheepishly at his boss who had peeked their head in. He hadn’t meant for the sneezes to come out quite so aggressively and his throat wasn’t feeling too great after that. His head was also aching a little worse than before… The stuffy air of the store seemed dead set on affecting him today.

“Well, it’s a bit early still but your friend is here already so you can clock out and head home if you want?”

“Are you sure?” He asked, wincing at slight hoarseness seeping into his voice.

“Positive. I can handle the rest, then I’ll see you on Friday again. Get some rest, Namjoon-ah.” His boss smiled. “I know we aren’t always the busiest, but you work hard, you deserve a break sometimes.”

Namjoon had a feeling they were talking about resting from his other work as well, but unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility right now.

“Thanks, I’ll see you on Friday then.” He rushed through signing out and grabbed his bag from behind the counter, just barely seeing Yoongi’s familiar bleached blond hair gradually moving in between the shelves of books in the far corner. The warlock had made it a habit to unconsciously search for spell books whenever he saw a collection of books anywhere, even if Namjoon was sure that nothing the antique store owned had anything to do with magic.

“Hey Yoongi.” He greeted as he found his friend. The warlock blinked, then placed the book he held back on the shelf.

“Hey. The car’s out front, there was actually parking there for once.”

Namjoon was grateful that they at least didn’t have to walk far in the wind. Sure he had dressed for the cold weather but he kind of wanted to avoid any unnecessary factors as much as possible.

“Let’s go. I need to get started on some spells as soon as possible. I have everything bagged and ready.”

That put some more speed into Yoongi as they gave a final wave back to Namjoon’s boss before exiting into the cold and running for the car.

It was halfway through the drive home when Yoongi finally couldn’t take it anymore. He had brushed the first few sniffles off as a reaction from the cold, but they had only progressively continued, and he could only take so much.

“Are you getting sick or something?”

“Huh?”

“You. Sick. Are you?” He asked bluntly as he sharply took a corner.

Namjoon shook his head. “I’m fine. I think I breathed in some dust from my dried materials and its been irritating my nose a bit.”

Yoongi arched a brow, sparing the witch a single glance before returning his attention to the road. He didn’t see how it could still be irritating him, but alas, he would drop it. With a single tap of his finger on the wheel, the glove compartment dropped open to reveal all the random scraps of things that he hadn’t bothered to clean out of his car yet.

“There’s tissues in there somewhere. Please blow your nose before you drive me insane.”

The words were abrupt, but Namjoon was familiar enough with the warlock to know that his friend was at least a little concerned. Although, the knowledge didn’t stop him from flushing with embarrassment and sheepishly begin searching through the pages until he found a fresh packet of travel tissues, quickly following through on the demand. It helped a little. Namjoon felt a bit more relieved than he had earlier, but he couldn’t help but question the subtle burn that spread through his sinuses.

Maybe he was getting sick… but that surely wasn’t possible. He was constantly taking health potions to prevent that, so it had to have been something else. He couldn’t be sick... But there was nothing against keeping the tissues a bit closer just in case his materials were to set him off later again.

They had barely been home for two hours and Yoongi was already calling the workday a colossal loss. He couldn’t focus on the intricate magic that he needed for some of their commissions when there was a mess of a witch attempting to craft just across the room throwing him off with all his barely muffled noises and bad vibes. Even on the best days they struggled to work in the same space at the same time, but Yoongi’s patience was running thin, and they didn’t have the supplies to waste on failed magic.

He'd asked Namjoon earlier when they had first started working if he was certain that he felt alright because frankly, he was looking a little peaked. And what did that dumb witch respond with? That he was fine. Like a liar.

How was he ‘fine’ when he had started to religiously dab at his nose or clear his throat while brewing. He’d never been bothered by the concoctions before, why would now be any different?

The final straw was the sneeze that had ripped out of the younger. He’d successfully twisted away from his work but unfortunately managed to knock one of his completed potions straight off of his shelf with his elbow. It had shattered with a finality that just could not be ignored any longer.

Yoongi didn’t feel even a little bit bad at the exhausted glare he received when he used his magic to aggressively finger snap his projects back into their organised casings before he stormed from his work desk and out of the room. If Namjoon wanted to lie to himself then fine, but not at the cost of their main source of income. Honestly it would have been smarter for him to rest and let Yoongi do his work first since creating potions and charms didn’t rely as much on energies as it did on the three m’s – ‘materials, methods, and measurements’ – which seemed to embody witchcraft.

But since the witch he had once considered a genius was being too stubborn to see that his symptoms weren’t quite adding up to what he had believed them to be, then Yoongi would just have to be the one to step away to work on a new project. The Kim Namjoon care package.

Step one: to the kitchen Their cupboards were practically bare, with the exception of instant ramen so…

Step one: to the grocery store, and then the kitchen.

Namjoon couldn’t remember a time where his head had ever felt so heavy. He had taken a moments break at his workstation to just rest his chin in the palm of his hand while his next batch of potions brewed and now he didn’t think he’d be able to lift it when the necessary moment arrived. He would have most likely fallen asleep if it hadn’t been for the slamming of their front door a little while back – Yoongi must have returned from wherever he had run off too.

Yet that still didn’t help him in trying to finish his work. It was as if his energy was being suctioned out of his body and was being replaced with the burning desire close his eyes and succumb to dreams or to fight losing battles against his increasingly irritated sinuses and need to find tissues. He hadn’t, obviously. That would mean he’d need to get up and that only returned I’m to his first problem at hand. So he’d been using his shirts sleeve to lazily wipe or shield his work from any mess, and his nose not very forgiving for it. He didn’t need to look at his rippling reflection in his potion to know that his nose had taken on deep pink hue, that was only reddening further with each sniffle.

This definitely wasn’t a lingering effect of some allergy or dust, and he wasn’t looking forward to annoyed ‘I knew it’ face when he finally admitted defeat. Not that the warlock would rub it in, but Namjoon didn’t particularly like not being right – especially about himself. Which is why he had continued working even when he knew he should most likely stop, Soekjin had always teased him about his fragile pride. Well his boyfriend probably wouldn’t tease him now. Tell him off and completely isolate him from anything productive? That seemed more likely.

Namjoon gave a half-hearted groan and shifted enough to be able stir the gradually thickening solution. He couldn’t quite remember if this was one that was supposed to be a thick consistency, but he sure hoped so. Or else this was going to be all for nothing. He readied his glass jars and then waited a few more minutes before pulling himself to his feet and giving the potion one final stir.

The pairing of the sharply sweet scent and constant wave of steam was making a mess of him. Namjoon had failed to turn away or cover a few too many times at this point but – as unprofessional as this may be – he just couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. His sniffling didn’t stop his nose from running like a faucet as he moved with great effort to try and fill the jars without spilling too much, and even that was asking too much. One surprise sneeze mid pour was all it took for a bit of his potion to seep over the brim of a jar and splatter onto his desk and floor. Another had him knocking over one of the full bottles, then there were hands taking pot and fussily pushing him away into his chair.

Namjoon sneezed the third and – hopefully – final time into his sleeved palms, sniffling deeply and only then looking up to see Yoongi finishing off the bottling with precise ease. He’d made a huge mess, not only of himself but also of their small workspace. The bottle that he had pushed off managed to splatter widely across the floor, even creeping into Yoongi’s side of the room, joining the previous potion he’d knocked off earlier, and his worktable hadn’t been such a mess since his academy days. He was making rookie mistakes.

“What exactly were you trying to make here Joon?” Yoongi muttered, squinting with disgust at the gloopy, pale mixture as he sealed them all. He tried his best to avoid getting any mess on himself but there wasn’t much he could do to avoid it at this point.

The witch wiped at his aching nose with whatever embarrassment he could gather. “Id’s su’posed to increhh’H’NXGSHH – ugh, increase confidence and suh-ahh.. snfff. Success rades.”

“Raids?”

“Rades.” Namjoon muffled a cough and rolled his eyes. “I’m congesded, shud up.”

Yoongi didn’t even try to hold back his chuckle. Sure this had all escalated into something annoying and he still thought it would have gone better if Namjoon had just been honest from the beginning, but it was still a little funny. In the delusional mess of things.

“To be honest Joon,” Yoongi gave everything a once over, finally settling on the poor state of his friend. “I think the only thing this batch is going to be successful for is maybe purposely getting someone sick. Its not the same as the previous ones you’ve made, its not even the same colour.”

Namjoon sighed; he wasn’t surprised. “I did sdeeze in id more than I should have.”

“That is disgusting. Please leave this house immediately.”

He was sure Yoongi had meant it to be at least a little humorous, but he just didn’t have the energy to laugh along. Everything ached and he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up once everything was over and gone.

“Hey, hey. Don’t go to sleep here, seriously.” Yoongi shook him into awareness, wincing at having to be breathing in his friends germs. He grabbed Namjoon’s arm and led him carefully around the mess of potion and glass and out of the room. “I made you some soup, but I think you should take a bath first. I feel like I should take a bath. My skin is crawling just looking at you.”

Yoongi barely made out the muttered apology as he shoved Namjoon into their tiny bathroom. “Don’t apologise. Just get better, you know I don’t do well at this whole ‘sick’ thing.” Although he definitely handled it a lot better than he used too.

Yoongi got to work on running a bath, making sure to drop a health potion as well as some menthol dissolvent that Soekjin had made them buy ages ago the last time one of them was sick. He tried to drown out the sounds of Namjoon blowing his nose or coughing into his hand by focusing on the water and his tasks, but he still felt like he needed to disinfect himself. Probably their whole apartment at this point.

“Okay, I’m going to leave it to you.” He switched off the water, stood up and turned to his friend who was looking even more pitiful in the bright light. “Just check the temperature, I think it can go warmer, but I need to go clean our workshop before it becomes a hazzard. I’ll go fetch you some new clothes as well, so just hop in, okay?” He gave Namjoon a once over. “Do you need my help getting undressed?”

“Dno.” Namjoon slowly dragged his shirt off, over his head. He shivered at the open air on his skin but otherwise seemed awake enough to handle himself.

“Okay, well. Scream if you need me.”

It had taken longer than he had wanted to clean up the mess his friend had made, but they had made it a rule to not use their magic or craft in each other’s immediate workspaces. It probably wouldn’t even make much of a significant difference, but Yoongi wasn’t going to go against the rules they’d laid down when they’d first moved in together. Space was limited so it was best to respect it no matter the circumstances. It definitely hadn’t been fun though.

If he never touched that potion another day in his life it would be too soon. He’d left the bottles on Namjoon’s shelf after marking them as unusable with his reasoning being a simple “contaminated” and receded immediately to the kitchen sink to scrub the residual potion from his hands. The mixture probably wouldn’t have any effect on him, but he preferred not to think about how much of it had already seeped into his skin. He was already mapping out a lengthy lecture to give his roommate as soon as he was feeling better – although he had a feeling he wouldn’t get very far in the delivery before Namjoon’s boyfriend would but in like some type of defence lawyer. Jin had a weird way of knowing when his attitude was needed, even in the most unserious of events.

“Yoongi?”

He turned his head enough to see Namjoon sleepily pad into the kitchen, clothed in the fresh pyjamas and extra sweater Yoongi had slipped through to him earlier. The witch was a bit worse for wear, almost a complete 180 from the collected Namjoon Yoongi had said goodbye to that morning before Namjoon had left for work.

“You’re alive, colour me surprised.” Yoongi smiled, wiping off his hands on a dish towel before moving on to get some bowls. “I made seaweed soup with some rice, then you should probably take some medicine and go sleep this off.”

Namjoon nodded, not up for any real conversation as he slumped onto the couch that served entirely as their living room and dining area. And honestly, Yoongi didn’t blame him.

Once he was finished dishing up the food, he set the bowls down in Namjoon’s lap and pulled a small table closer in case he needed to put them on a more stable surface at some point. Then with a wave of his hand – the burst of warm magic surging through him both soothing and energising – he materialised one of their thicker blankets and some of the new softer tissues that he preferred and dumped them on the seat next to the witch.

“You made my mom’s soup.” Namjoon sniffed as he sipped at the broth and Yoongi hoped that it was mostly because of the steam. He couldn’t deal with a sentimental witch on top of a sick one. Especially if they were one in the same.

“It’s good soup.” Yoongi said bluntly, finally sitting down with his own bowl. Then added while handing out some tissues for the younger to take. “I thought it would make you feel better.”

That brought a small smile to Namjoon’s lips as he replaced his bowl with the much-needed tissues. Already catching hot breath palm as he felt the tell-tale signs of a sneeze coming on. “You’re the best, hyung.”

Yoongi wasn’t quite sure, but as long as Namjoon finally took the time to rest and stopped spreading accidental chaos, then he was calling it a win.

#bts sickfic #bts fanfic #colds #bts snz #witch namjoon #warlock yoongi #roommates #potions #he's a mess #I promise yoongi isnt a jerk #he cares #vague namjin #requested #thanks #i cant tag #sorry about that

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