#magic yoongi

[jkvjimin]

MIN YOONGI ↳ magic shop osaka | for @magicshop 💜 [cr. namuspromised]

[namchyoon]

day 275/547 until joon returns

[purpleyoonn]

enchanted 1

C H A P T E R   O N E 

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

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

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au,

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: ongoing (random updates)

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

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

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

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

playlist 

masterlist // chapter 2 

—————————————–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What power, mama?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you two get back to work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-*-*-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter

[threeletterslife]

39 | Legends of Darlaria

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

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

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

⨰ warnings: profanity

⨰ wordcount: 5.2k

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

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

The news of Hajin’s death spread faster than the Solarian fire. It upset many; she wasn’t only a dedicated soldier but also the crown princess—the last heir to the Darlaean throne. And to you, she was your best friend, your soulmate, someone akin to being your sister. 

You were forced to make a mind-numbing speech to the nation, taking responsibility as the General who allowed the princess to be slain under her watch. Your soldiers listened, heads bowed, understanding that the Solarians were to blame. But many others denounced your authority, criticized your methods, and blamed you for handing Hajin off on a silver platter for the Solarians to kill. Someone threw their shoe at you when you were up on the stage, which hit your cheek at an astonishing velocity and left it bruised. You were forced off the platform to avoid any more attacks from the angry crowd. The next day, scholars in the 11th city used your failures to advocate that Darlae should surrender or at least push for peace. 

Your bruised cheek and sprained ankle from the battle healed immediately with your private team of healers, but the pain never stopped. Perhaps it was the guilt—that it really was your fault that Hajin was dead—or perhaps it was the pain of having thousands of Darlaeans despise your existence for a mistake that killed such a beloved member of royalty. You weren’t sure what went wrong. But you knew you had the power to prevent it, and you’d failed.

It was cowardly of you, but you fled to the comfort of the 12th city, unable to handle the agony. Hoseok took you in with open arms. Not once did he blame you for your failure to protect his daughter. Instead, he treated you as his own, which he always had anyway. But the pain of having lost his only child, the last heir to the throne had affected him too. For days after her death, he didn’t come out of his chambers and left his food untouched.

You were in a similar state. You spent the next week in your chambers in the castle, unable to get out of bed, unable to find the motivation to even lift your head from your pillow. Jungkook grew worried about you. He visited the 12th city on the eighth day since Hajin’s death and knocked upon your door. When you didn’t answer, he slowly opened it, only to find you hidden under your blankets.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle and quiet.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t. You were afraid of crying again. 

“The people don’t know what they’re talking about,” he tried again. “I talked to your parents and asked them to placate the scholars. And I’ve done everything in my power to squash misconceptions and rumors about your role in… in her passing.”

Still no answer. But you were trembling now. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “It’s the damn war.”

That only reminded you of the job that you’d neglected for a week. How could you ever go back to commanding the army having made such a large mistake that killed your best friend? How could it not be your fault? Why couldn’t you protect her? You could’ve easily put her in the flank of the formation that statistically had the lowest casualties. Why didn’t you? Was it an oversight? Were you too confident in her capabilities? But she was capable. She always was. She was only an unlucky victim of a vicious Solarian soldier who was known to shoot at her targets with metal rings on her hands. How fucking inhumane. 

“Hey,” Jungkook said again. It brought you back to reality, which only sharpened the taste of anguish. 

He sat at the edge of the bed—you only knew because the mattress dipped. 

“Come back to the 1st city with me,” he said. “We have to move on.” He sounded sweet, or maybe you were in love with his voice, among the other parts of him. But his words cut deeply.

You ripped the covers over your head. A wave of fresh air hit your nose. He was in his uniform with the fur cape wrapped around his shoulders—even though he should’ve had plenty of time to change into something more comfortable. He liked to be in uniform when he discussed the military, and it stung that he believed this was a matter of business when it should be personal.

Hot tears spilled out of your eyes. “Move on? How can you say that?” 

He’d been present at the funeral, during your embarrassing failure of a eulogy. And as soon as you were ushered off the stage, he was sent up for what you could only assume was damage control. He had the miraculous ability to appease the crowd—at least, divert their attention away from you and add fuel to the burning hatred of a fire that most Darlaeans felt toward the Solarians. He was stern but unveiled just enough emotion to charm. And yet he never cried. Not even behind closed doors. The day after, he operated as he usually did—as if nothing had happened at all.

“Y/N, she’s dead now,” Jungkook said. “We should focus on the war.”

Anger ripped through your chest. The red was back, and you were oh so sick of it. They were only words, but they somehow pained you even more. You couldn’t help but to raise your voice. “She was our friend!”

“She’s just another fallen soldier.”

“You know damn well she was not!”

How could he reduce all the memories, the late-night talks over dinner, all of the time the two of you spent with her into nothing? How could he be so cruel?

“She saved my life once,” he admitted. “And I’ll forever be sorry that I wasn’t able to return the favor. But we leave the dead on the ground no matter who they are.”

“...What?”

“It’s to protect the soldiers who are living. You know that.”

“Without me and Taehyung, we wouldn’t have had her body at the funeral!” 

“And you are both fortunate to be alive,” he said. How the hell could he sound so level-headed despite your adversarial tone? “We can’t risk the lives of the living for the dead.”

“But this was different!” Tears blurred your vision. You stumbled out of bed to face him, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. “She was the crown princess, and she was your friend. You said you’d be sad if she died! But how can you act like nothing happened? How can you just—just fucking leave her on the battlefield? You couldn’t even cover for me!”

“Don’t accuse me of never caring about her,” Jungkook said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but you could tell he was furious. His fists were clenched and his body tensed as he averted his eyes. “Don’t fucking go there.”

“But you left her!”

And you left me.

“You don’t order a retreat for one soldier, Y/N,” he said. “I don’t care if she was our friend. I don’t care if she was the crown princess. There was no retreat ordered when General Son was injured, so why the fuck would we stop a battle we are winning for a dead, unranked soldier?”

You were shocked into silence. 

His eyes were so cold, devoid of any emotion. 

I don’t care if she was our friend. I don’t care if she was the crown princess.

You were shaking, and though you had enough layers of clothing on, you felt perpetually cold. 

We don’t stop a battle we are winning for a dead, unranked soldier.

Before you knew it, you were screaming at him. You don’t know if you were saying words, or if you were just simply screaming and screaming and screaming, but your throat felt raw. Your knees hit the floor, tears from your face splattering on the ground on impact.

You didn’t know how long you were screaming. Your ears were ringing, your jaw aching. But you couldn’t stop. And when you believed the pain couldn’t possibly get worse, you saw him stand. Then, he walked away.

Your world shattered. 

He’d left. He’d really left.

All the rage inside your body dissolved into an even worse pain—grief. Fresh, hot tears streamed down your face. 

You wondered if he’d ever come back. 

It had been weeks since Hajin’s death, but not a day had gone by without you crying over her grave. If you weren’t in the royal graveyard, hunched over Hajin’s tombstone, you were ensconced under your covers, hoping perhaps that you’d suffocate and be put out of your misery. 

You hadn’t spoken to your lieutenant at all since your last fight, but somehow, your army ran quite smoothly, even though you were on temporary leave. The Darlaean King told you to take as much time as you needed to mourn and advised Jungkook to look after his nation for the time being.

“Please, take care of Y/N when she forgets to take care of herself,” Hoseok had told him. You and Jungkook still weren’t on speaking terms then, yet he swore to the king that he would take care of you until the end. That stung. If you did come to your end, he’d leave your body on the battlefield without batting an eye. It was such a stupid, selfish thought to have amidst the other miseries in your life, but you couldn’t help it. It still hurt. The thought had made you sob in front of the king, and Hoseok had sobbed with you, yet for a different reason. And, of course, Jungkook stayed silent, watching the two of you cry without a single fluctuation of emotion on his face.

The days seemed to drag on and dash past at the same time. It all felt the same to you, anyway. You lost yourself in the world of the past, spending most of your days daydreaming about your time with Hajin in the Training Corps—things were so much simpler then. It made you feel like she was still alive—as if she was in the other room, and she would barge into your chambers any minute now demanding that you snacked on deviled eggs with her. During nighttime, you often played through the battle that had led to her death. You found yourself analyzing every strategy, every soldier placement, every blade of trampled-over grass on the field. But thoughts like these were always the worst, for there were so many preventative measures you’d neglectfully forgone. You fell asleep every night with a pillow soaked with your tears.

You missed Hajin’s bubbly laugh, her endless words, and especially how she’d always grasp your hands in excitement. Sometimes, you stood outside her closed chamber doors, your hand hovering over the doorknob. But you could never let yourself in. Hajin’s lady-in-waiting often found you passed out in front of her door. She would kindly wake you, and send you back to your chambers with a warm cup of tea and honey.

Then there were the fleeting thoughts of Jungkook. They came in jumbled, confused bursts where you couldn’t figure out if you hated him, felt sorry that you yelled at him and accused him of never caring for Hajin, or still felt angry that he’d left you stranded on the battlefield and alone in your chambers when you needed him most. There was a part of you that condemned yourself for being so childish, for everything Jungkook had said that day the two of you fought had been completely rational—as per military guidelines. In fact, you had been the one who had lashed out at him, had questioned his friendship, had accused him of hurtful things. In a way, his eagerness to continue to fight the Solarians might be to reconcile Hajin’s death. Perhaps this was his method of honoring her legacy—to allow her death to fuel his desire to win the war so much so that even though she was no longer here, she would become a hero. He was resilient in ways you only wished you were. But then there were moments when you couldn’t stand the thought of him. He still left you out on the battlefield to fend for yourself. And he left you again in your chambers. He hasn’t come back since.

But whatever your feelings toward Jungkook were at the moment, you still missed him. Perhaps that was what unconditional love was. It scared you that he might not feel the same. And it killed you to even have to doubt.

Before you knew it, your birthday passed. There was no celebration. The age of 23 felt like a curse—only because Hajin never experienced it and never would. By the time Circa Alexandrite came around, you were so far deep into mourning Hajin’s death and having been off-duty, that you grew winded after climbing a flight of stairs. 

You thought yourself pathetic most times. How was it that the world continued to move on, but you were stuck in the past? It had been circas since Hajin had passed, but why were you in the same place as you were before? You were a fucking coward, that’s what you were. General Son once told you that fear could fuel you to do extraordinary things, but there was nothing extraordinary about you being bedridden with pain that resided in your heart and nowhere else. You were letting down his legacy. Letting down Hajin’s legacy too. For fuck’s sake, you deserved the condemnation of the public for being such a weak leader.

You wondered what your soldiers thought about you. Did they think you fled? Ran away at the first sight of mass disapproval? They wouldn’t be wrong. You wondered how the Darlaeans were faring in the war. You trusted Jungkook to lead when you’d failed to, and you trusted that he’d do it well. And even though he had refused to bring her body back to the 1st city, he had done more with the result of her death than anyone else. You couldn’t argue with that.

But he’d still left you… Twice. And he hasn’t even bothered to talk to you since. Though to be fair, you hadn’t attempted to contact him either. But how can you? The last time you saw him, you’d screamed at him until he left the room. It was shame that stopped you from mending your relationship—wherever it was. 

As more weeks went by, you attempted to ease yourself back into your work. You would open up one of your leather-bound journals, pick up a quill, and try to brainstorm a new charm for your soldiers to use in battle. You would try to sketch battle plans. You even tried to mask new gowns for yourself. And sometimes, you got work done. But then, you would break down crying and sobbing. Your gowns would unmask into arbitrary pieces of fabric. Your battle plans would be reduced to ugly ink splotches from your tears. No matter what you did, you couldn’t escape the fact that Hajin was gone.

It felt pointless sometimes. You didn’t know what to make of yourself. The inspiration you’d felt when you were younger and in the Training Corps—it was nowhere to be found. After a while, when the spring rains dried up and the sun seemed to be out eternally, you felt numb. You didn’t feel much pain in your heart anymore, only a deep, hollow feeling in your gut. You would cry less often now, but that didn’t mean you were all that healed. 

The weather in late Circa Ruby was sweltering and unforgiving. But there came an instance when it rained for a couple of days straight, which was quite unusual at that time of year. The gloominess of the weather reopened the wounds in your heart. You sobbed with the sky. 

The next day, when the storm clouds went away, you visited Hajin’s grave. The ground was muddy from last night’s rain, but you didn’t care. You were hunched over, shoulders shaking as you cried. 

“Hey.”

You jumped, not having realized you weren’t alone. You could recognize his voice anywhere, despite not having heard it in circas. Your heart ached. Because above all the hatred, the regret, the grief, you were sorry. And you missed him.

He wasn’t in uniform, though the uncharacteristic blood under his fingertips told you that he must’ve taken the first carriage to the 12th city after a battle. You felt a deep pang in your chest. He’d been filling in for you in a role that you’d neglected for nearly four circas now. You couldn’t bear to look at his face. Without another word, he handed you a neatly folded-up handkerchief. You hesitated, though you don’t know why, and took it. In his other hand, he held a bouquet of white flowers. 

You wiped your incessant tears with his handkerchief until it ceased to absorb any more water. Jungkook quietly took the handkerchief from you, replacing it with the beautifully wrapped flowers. With shaky hands, you carefully placed them in front of Hajin’s tombstone. She would’ve hated them, for she was never quite acquired an affinity for flowers, but she would have approved of the thought behind them.

Jungkook sank to his knees beside you. You could feel his gaze on you, apologetic and kind. 

I’m sorry, he tapped on his trinket. I should’ve visited both of you earlier… 

Your fingers trembled as they tapped back. It’s okay. I understand. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were sorry too. That he was so busy because of you. 

He placed a gentle hand on your back. His touch spread warmth all around your body. You couldn’t help but lean closer to him. He seemed to notice and offered you his shoulder. You took it. 

It felt so natural, being with him again, almost as if the two of you hadn’t fought at all. Your thoughts about him, which had left you perplexed before, were all too clear now. While you grieved under the safety of your covers, he grieved by forcing himself to work harder—by picking up others’ slack. You couldn’t fault him for being unable to cry. He didn’t have to, to show that he was grieving. It was apparent in his dulled skin, his slightly red eyes from the lack of sleep, and his disheveled state. You could see it now. He left you that day to sob in your chambers because he didn’t want you to see him break down too. Because he’s always liked being strong. He had to be to climb his way up to where he was now.

Hey, he tapped.

“Hm?”

“I’ll never leave you again,” he whispered. Even if I’m bloodied and broken and losing a damn battle. I’ll stay by your side. “I promise.”

The ability to form coherent sentences melted away, along with your heart. You finally turned to look him in the eyes, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. He reached out to tenderly wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. He looked so beautiful, even though his eyebrows were twisted, and his own eyes were filled with sorrow. His expression made you cry harder, and you flung your body at him, arms wrapping around his neck. His hand instinctively reached up to support your head as he noticeably relaxed in your embrace.

He was so warm. So, so warm. Not even the summer sun could provide you with this much warmth. 

Thank you, you tapped on his back. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Don’t be, he answered. 

I’ll go back, you offered. And you meant it. You did. If he spent circas guarding the nation despite insurmountable grief, you had to do it too. For Hajin. She would’ve wanted you to continue your job—to end the war once and for all.

Good, he responded. Your soldiers have missed you.

With Jungkook’s love and support, you picked up training in the 1st city again, though slowly as the muscles in your body had hardened from their lack of use and your reflexes had dulled from the hours you spent inert under your bed covers. Your soldiers all believed you had been ill for circas, which was a lie that Jungkook told to save your reputation in the military. But it also wasn’t too far from the truth. You’d been bedridden, after all, though most of the pain had manifested in your heart rather than your body. You weren’t to go to battle until you were fully healed—wherein ‘healed’ was entirely up to Jungkook’s discretion. He didn’t want you fighting in any battles until you were fighting with the caliber you once had—before Hajin’s death.

Despite the fact that you had abandoned them, your soldiers welcomed you with open arms. They understood what illness could do to the body; plenty of them had spent weeks in the infirmary time and time again, their fresh wounds becoming new battle scars. Except your scars weren’t physical. They were mental. You hoped they wouldn’t notice.

“We were so worried, Y/N,” Taehyung said. “My sister asked for you so many times, and I had to tell her that I wasn’t sure if you were doing all right.”

“Yes,” Seokjin agreed. “It must’ve been a nasty illness, sir,” he said, always one to insist on using honorifics. “We’re glad to have you back.”

You let yourself smile. “And I’m glad to be back,” you said. You realized you never got to properly thank Taehyung for helping you on the battlefield that day, carrying Hajin’s body back to safety, so you extended your gratitude to him right then and there. It was difficult not to get choked up at the recollection, but the two soldiers didn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

Taehyung was sheepish. “Just doing my duty.”

“Duty or not it was kind,” you said. “I’ll never forget it, Taehyung. Truly.”

You missed having these small conversations with your soldiers. You missed visiting them in the infirmary, eating lunch with them out in the fields and visiting the barracks to check in occasionally. All of this reminded you of the mountain of duties you siphoned off Jungkook’s way when you gave up after Hajin’s passing. How many of the simple rituals you held with your soldiers did he emulate? Did he emulate them at all? You wondered what he was like, briefly running the army in your stead. Did he feel in his element? Did he perhaps feel as though you’d robbed him of this desirable position? You hated that the last thought even came to you. Jungkook was your boyfriend, your lover, your dear soulmate. He would never think that of you. He stepped in because he had to, not because he was eager to try a hand at a role that he believed was his right. 

Nobody mentioned what it was like to be under Jungkook’s command. Perhaps they were afraid you would take offense to it. And perhaps you would—just a little bit—if his command was preferred by your soldiers. It would make you feel like you stole this position from him, that you somehow tricked General Son into handing you a position you didn’t deserve. The numbers told the truth, however. Whether your soldiers preferred his command didn’t matter much when the sheer number of battles he won in six circas well surpassed the number you could achieve in the same allotted time. There were more casualties, however. The infirmary logs were at least three times as long. This reminded you of the training exercise you did with him years back—back when you and he were still under General Son’s tutelage. Back when General Son was alive. What was it that Jungkook said? Optimal in a war means victory. And it will always mean victory. So of course he’d approve of new, violent charms and even more vicious propaganda. You didn’t agree with these choices, but these kinds of things were difficult to undo once deployed. Perhaps Jungkook knew that when he authorized them—that you wouldn’t be able to reverse their approval or their effects. You liked to think that he wasn’t aware of the consequences. That he only approved of these things hastily to lead an optimal army, using the definition of optimal he had built in his head.

And now, now it felt like the army almost wasn’t yours anymore. It was a horrible feeling. By all means, you weren’t angry at Jungkook for these changes. He did what he had to do. You were the one who abandoned your duties; he had only stepped in. He did you a favor. But that didn’t change the fact that you no longer felt in control—not that you desired control in the first place. Still, you’d built up the army, using the foundations that General Son had generously left you with, with your flesh, blood and tears. You didn’t condone ruthlessness, even if it was necessary. It might be considered a flaw in the history books, but it was also who you were. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, was truly the very definition of ruthlessness. It was hard to imagine him as such when he was always so loving and caring towards you, but sometimes, when you saw him fight, when you saw him speak of the Solarians, you caught glimpses of mercilessness, sometimes bordering on cruelty. The more you observed your boyfriend in his military element, the more you realized how much he’d hardened. But perhaps he was always like this. He had always been driven and goal-oriented; he was also one to agree that the ends justified the means, no matter how cruel the means were. So, perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised you to see how he demanded and ordered his soldiers about—how he even treated the people he grew up with, like Seokjin and Taehyung. He commanded with an iron first, with an aura so mighty that you felt as if it surpassed your authority at times. He never overstepped in your presence, however. Jungkook would never do that. He respected you and loved you and was looking out for you during your recovery journey. 

Yet the six circas you were away had changed him and your army. He would walk into a room and soldiers would stop chattering. He would stride across a field and soldiers would salute him. He had soldiers salute him before they spoke and wait for his dismissal to leave. It was all so formal—even more so than the army that General Son ran. But you couldn’t blame Jungkook. You never could. Perhaps this was how he coped with Hajin’s death. Perhaps he wanted complete and utter control to handle the uncontrollable need to mourn. Perhaps when you had suddenly given up, and he was suddenly tossed into your position, he had no choice but to prove himself to your confused soldiers—demanding compliance in case they didn’t respect him as much as you. Or perhaps he simply worked better in a different environment than you. You couldn’t be angry at him for that.

Jungkook was so patient with you. From time to time, you had your moments, when the grief suddenly became unbearable. When those times came, he would usher you into your office, lock the door, and hold you as you cried. Sometimes, it was as if he knew these moments were coming. Sometimes, he’d already be waiting for you in your private quarters with a delicious duck roast and warm mushroom stew, ready to soothe your mind over with a hearty meal. While you may have your differences with him as your lieutenant general, he was the perfect boyfriend. 

And so with love and support, you continued your recovery journey in the 1st city. To pass the time outside of your grueling physical training—it felt like you were back in the Training Corps again—you reviewed your favorite strategy books and reread General Son’s documents, determined to at least create infallible battle plans when you couldn’t contribute to the field.  

On Hajin’s birthday—she would’ve turned 23—Jungkook took you back to the 12th city. The two of you spent some time with the king, who welcomed you and him with open arms. He wasn’t looking any better.

After dinner, Jungkook told you to meet him in the orchard, so you did. It was a warm night, as nights often were in Circa Ruby, so you were wearing a thin gown—the silver one that made you sparkle like the moon, as Jungkook said. You sat on the grass, staring up at the sky, trying not to think, for if you did, you might start sobbing. You tried to drown your mind in the darkness of the horizon—that was until you saw light in your peripheral vision.

When you turned your head, you saw Jungkook holding a silver birdcage. Inside, was the most magnificent animal you had ever seen in your life. His beak was shiny and dark like the midnight sky and his plumage blazed with the eternal flame of a thousand suns. His onyx eyes carried depths of wisdom and glinted as they flitted towards you. He seemed to be smiling at you. ‘Recognize me?’

“Jungkook…” you breathed. “How…?”

“Think of it as your rather late birthday gift,” he answered with a soft smile. 

“I thought they killed him,” you said, immediately reaching for the latch on the cage and swinging the door open. “Even after all that begging, I thought they had every reason to kill him. Enyx… I thought you were gone”

The phoenix flew out, ruffling his feathers as he perched on your shoulder. ‘It takes a lot to kill me, you know,’ he seemed to say.

You laughed. “I’m glad.”

“They only kept him frozen,” Jungkook said. “But I don’t think any royal butcher in their right mind would go against the wishes of the princess’ best friend.”

The mention of Hajin made your heartache and your face fall. The phoenix noticed, and he used his clawed foot to drum gently on your shoulder. ‘It’s okay, child,’ he seemed to say in his infinite wisdom. ‘I’m here now.’

You reached up to ruffle his feathers. “Thank you,” you said—to both the bird and Jungkook. There were tears in your eyes. It was always difficult to think of the past without thinking of Hajin. Jungkook caught your falling tears with his sleeve.

“Don’t cry,” he said sweetly. He was different around you, not the ruthless lieutenant general your soldiers couldn’t help but fear just a little bit. He was perfect to you. A lifeline of some sort.

“I… I can’t help it,” you whispered. “The tears just keep coming… I don’t… I just… There’s just so much sadness—I don’t know how else to express it, and it just… It’s been circas. But sometimes, it feels like it happened just yesterday.”

“I know…” Jungkook said. He held your hand. “But you’ve been doing so well. In another circa, you should be ready to go on the battlefield again. In another circa, you’ll be able to punish the Solarians for what they did to Hajin.”

You nodded. “In another circa…” you echoed.

You wanted it to come as much as you wanted it to never. 

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: sorry for being a week late :') unsure when the next update will be. hopefully late novemeber but i can't make promises this time :( hope you enjoyed this chapter though! flashback sequence ends veryyyy soon :0

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

[vampylily]

Notes from the new Rolling Stones Japan article with Pete and Patrick Pt.1 :

[WARNING: The article is in Japanese, I'm not a Japanese speaker. I'm machine translating the article from Japanese to Korean & English, and then doing paraphrasing in English. Thus, the wording is not entirely accurate, and may contain errors. Please don't consider this as a proper translation. This is so I can have a reference more than anything. ]

When the interviewer noted Patrick's Los Crudos t-shirt, he responded enthusiastically that it was a Chicago band! Pete was in a Napalm Death t-shirt.

Interviewer asked about how Summer Sonic was, especially since it was their first since 2019. Patrick said the show went like they hoped, which rarely happens (lol). Said Japanese audiences are special. He gets asked about how concerts in Japan are, but it's hard to explain unless you experience it. Said can't explain it well, but there's a lot of give and take of energy.

Interviewer asked about Pete saying there was a song inspired by Japan on the SMFS album. Pete said "The Kintsugi Kid" was the song about how he felt when he was in Japan, it's obvious by the title. "The Kintsugi Kid'' bridges "I Am My Own Muse" and "So Much (For) Stardust." Said Patrick wrote the songs but in his interpretation, the sonic landscape of the song reminds him of Japan.

Patrick said he's always been quite influenced by Japan, especially on this album. Said people might not register it from the sound, but he's been influenced by the Yellow Magic Orchestra & their synthesizer sounds. He didn't use much synthesizer on the album but a lot of the songs started with synthesizers. He got the same synthesizer Yellow Magic Orchestra used and started writing songs from there. He's a big fan of Studio Ghibli movies and loves Joe Hisaishi's music. Said when doing string/orchestra horn arrangements, he wanted to create a sound that was as appealing to the heart/poignant as his. Even though their music/sound was completely different, he wanted to try it. Said he especially tried to evoke the feeling he got on "The Pink Seashell."

Interviewer asked about TTTYG's 20th anniversary and how they could have done an anniversary tour but they didn't and instead released SMFS with gusto.

Pete said the most important thing is that you stick to what you think is right. Said there was a punk band he liked when he was younger, and they didn't change at all. Talked about how artists like David Bowie or the Clash changed their styles to almost unrecognizable lengths and how some fans left because of it. But when he listens to the albums after getting older, he can reflect on his own changes and find new appreciation for songs he might not have liked at the time.

Pete said celebrating the past too much feels patronizing and not very fall out boy-like. They continue making new music, sometimes they succeed, sometimes they don't. Even if something doesn't work out as well, he's like [it is what it is/that happens], and that some people might say they liked it. He's got albums he likes and albums he dislikes from his own favourite artists. Said they always make new albums that challenge their past works. Of course they hope people like it, but getting good reviews/being appreciated isn't the only reason they continue making music.

Patrick said he doesn't like making an album to celebrate the 20th anniversary, or having an anniversary to showcase past songs. Reasons was that first, the past songs are always in rotation in their sets so they don't stop playing them. Second, like Pete said, they prefer to keep pursuing new music and that stance hasn't changed from 20 years ago. Said deviating from that feels dishonest like they're lying to themselves.

Pete was like [it's how Steven Spielberg didn't make E.T. Part 2.] Patrick was like [exactly!] and said that being honest with themselves was their pure form.

also there's a page 2 to the article but i'm tired :[. they talk about "emo" changing from a specific music genre to the word entering the mainstream vernacular, patrick talked about how when they started out they didin't consider themselves "emo," they were a hardcore band. said he liked playing hardcore though when he sang people used to tell him his voice was too cute. they focused on making the music they wanted to, and before they knew it, they were being called "emo." Pete talked about the word, how it encompasses too much, feeling restricted by that in the past, etc. Talked about wanting to become like Metallica in that the word Metallica has becomes its own thing, Metallica doesn't need a description, etc. Patrick talked about perfoming in Japan, from small venues way earlier to now, etc

-

-

I love long FOB articles and I quite liked this one.

Love that Patrick talked about musical inspirations and SMFS. It’s so cool to hear because I love how beautiful and grand the sounds are in SMFS, even with spoken tracks like The Pink Seashell or Baby Annihilation. 

Also him buying the same synthesizers is so real. He’s a music nerd <3 

They’ve been consistently talking about always wanting to make new music and looking to the future instead of the past. And getting questions about their sound changing since forever haha.

It's really cool that they're very self aware and how convinced they are about making new music. Love that Pete can look back at older albums and find new appreciation for them. I’d be down for another half dozen FOB albums if they are, so (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

The new Pete and Patrick photos!!! They've got such pretty eyes <333

[downbad4yoongi]

Bound By Magic | Chapter One

🪄Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

🪄AU/Genre: E2L, Magical AU, smut

🪄WC: 11,698

🪄Warnings: smut, minor character death

A/N: This is for @lo1k-diamonds as a part of @bangtanwritershq Sweet Tricks and Wicked Treats exchange.

Thank you to my betas: @colormepurplex2, @moonleeai, and @pars-ley

Summary:

In a world of magic, a centuries-old rivalry exists between two powerful witches. Their mutual animosity is intense, fueled by their constant competition and clashing personalities. Despite their hatred, they are inexplicably drawn to each other's power.

When a dark force threatens the magical realm, they are forced to unite against a common enemy. As they work together, a reluctant respect and attraction grows between them. A pivotal moment, where the witch heals the injured warlock, ignites a powerful connection.

Realizing their intertwined destinies, they embrace their love and combined magic to defeat the darkness. Their newfound unity proves that love can conquer even the deepest-rooted hatred, forging a powerful bond that will shape the future of the magical world.

Chapter One

You stood across the staged area of the arena from your longstanding adversary. You and Namjoon have been at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember. The two of you had been in a constant competition of one-upmanship that others may have considered friendly, but in reality, it was anything but.

The two of you were raised to view the opposite faction as the enemy due to superiority complexes, a mindset that hasn’t budged much for either of you despite those stereotypes being broken down decades ago. Witches’ magickal abilities were rooted in elements and nature, contradicting warlocks' more arcane-based magick. 

Eventually, witches and warlocks slowly began collaborating and breaking down the barriers that formerly held strong. This collaboration proved that great things could happen when the two factions worked together instead of against each other.  However, you and Namjoon were stubborn and locked in a continuous battle of wills. Every year, you were allowed to best the other at the annual magickal competition, The Spellbound Tournament.

You were fully prepared to show Namjoon who the better spellcaster was when a deafening blast tore through the air, searing heat and blinding light engulfing you. Instinctively, you lifted a shimmering shield against the shock wave that slammed into your body. Chaos erupted around you - panicked screams mingling with the crackle of flames and crumbling stones. As the ringing in your ears subsided, you blinked away the spots dancing before your eyes. The magickal stadium lay in ruins, ancient seats reduced to rubble. Acrid smoke stung your nostrils. Your heart raced wildly, pounding fiercely against your ribcage as if trying to break free, each beat echoing like a war drum in the silence of the moment.

Scanning the destruction, you spotted Namjoon staggering to his feet, robes tattered and face smudged with soot. His sharp gaze locked with yours, a flicker of concern behind the hardened exterior despite his often declared hatred of you. You nodded curtly, conveying a silent check - I'm alive, if not unscathed.

Haneul's voice, a sage wizard that everyone listens to without hesitation, cut through the din, commanding attention. "Quickly! Over here!" They stood atop a jutting stone slab, silver hair whipping around their face.

You and Namjoon picked your way over the rubble and debris, joined by other dazed survivors of the blast. Haneul's eyes, usually placid pools of wisdom, now churned urgently. Aching and battered, most gather in front of Hanuel as others take care of the ones who are gravely injured… or worse.

"This was no mere explosion," they declared gravely. "Wooshik has made his move. Even now, his dark forces mobilize to seize control."

A chill shivered down your spine at the mention of that name - the warlock whose ambitions threatened the very fabric of your world. You exchanged a tense glance with Namjoon, animosity temporarily forgotten in the face of this revelation.

"We...we have to stop him," you managed, voice rough from inhaled smoke. "Whatever it takes."

Haneul nodded solemnly. "Indeed. And it will require the two of you working together." They pierced you and Namjoon with a knowing glare, a glint in their eyes as if seeing a future only they could perceive. "Only your combined strengths can thwart Wooshik's scheme."

Namjoon's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. You could practically feel the waves of reluctance rolling off him, mirroring your own hesitation. Years of rivalry, of traded barbs and clashing magicks, hung between you - a chasm not easily bridged.

But Haneul's words rang with an ominous finality. The fate of everything you held dear hinged upon this tentative alliance with your sworn adversary. Failure was not an option.

Slowly, deliberately, you extended a hand to Namjoon. His obsidian eyes delved into yours, searching for any hint of deceit. You met his probing gaze unflinchingly, willing him to see the grim resolve within.

After a moment that stretched for an eternity, his larger palm enveloped yours. His skin, warm and callused against your own, sent a jolt of awareness through you.

"For the covens," he gritted out. "And the realm."

You squeezed his hand, sealing the pact. "For the realm," you echoed.

As you stood amidst the smoking ruins, hands clasped with your erstwhile enemy, a sense of destiny settled upon your shoulders. The path ahead promised peril and unknown challenges.

But one truth crystallized in your mind, sharp and unassailable - you would face them together or not at all.

A piercing shriek cracked through the air, shattering the newly formed yet fragile peace. Your head snapped up, instincts screaming of imminent danger. Beside you, Namjoon tensed, his hand falling from yours to the hilt of his blade.

From the depths of the swirling clouds of dust and debris, a ghastly creature emerged, its form writhing and shifting like a shadow in the dim light. Its eerie silhouette loomed larger as it stepped forward, eyes glinting with a malevolent glow. Gnarled limbs reached out, each movement echoing the horrors of forgotten nightmares. Its scales shimmered like polished obsidian, capturing and refracting the light in jagged glimmers. Each thunderous step echoed ominously, as razor-sharp talons drove deep into the earth, leaving behind jagged furrows that spoke of its immense power. Those menacing eyes, glowing with a sinister intelligence, locked onto you and Namjoon, radiating an unsettling awareness that sent chills coursing down your spine.

One of Wooshik's twisted creations unleashed to test your newfound alliance.

"Flank it from both sides!" Namjoon barked, his voice ringing with authority. 

You moved to obey, along with everyone else, muscle memory overriding the strangeness of taking orders from him. As you circled the beast, your magick hummed beneath your skin, yearning for release.

The creature lunged, a blur of shadow and fury. You lunged aside, feeling the whisper of its claws mere inches from your face. Namjoon retaliated with a blast of arcane energy, but the beast shrugged it off, its hide impervious to single attacks.

"We need to strike together!" you yelled, understanding eventually dawning. "Combine our magick!"

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a split-second of perfect understanding passing between you. You began to weave an intricate spell, your power intertwining with his: fire and ice, light and shadow, two opposites melding into a devastating whole.

The beast charged again, its roar shaking the very ground you stood on. You held your position. Namjoon moved behind you, a solid presence at your back, his arms bracketing yours. At the last possible moment, you released your spell, a searing bolt of energy that struck the creature head-on.

It stumbled, howling in pain and rage. Namjoon pressed, using the advantage, his blade flashing in a deadly arc. The creature's blood sprayed across the shattered earth, black and viscous.

But it wasn't enough. The beast rallied, its wounds knitting together with unnatural speed. It lashed out with its tail, catching Namjoon across the chest and sending him flying.

With a wordless shout, you unleashed the full might of your magick, pouring every ounce of your strength into a final, desperate assault. The air crackled with power, your veins burning with its force.

The creature staggered, its defenses crumbling beneath the onslaught. Namjoon, battered but unbroken, surged to his feet, his blade finding the beast's heart in a single, perfect thrust. 

As the creature fell, its dying scream echoing across the battlefield, you sagged to your knees, spent. Namjoon limped to your side, his hand finding your shoulder as he stood over you, hunched forward but managing to stay on his feet.

"We did it," he rasped, his voice tinged with something akin to wonder.

You nodded, too exhausted for words. But as you knelt there amidst the carnage and the chaos, you felt the first stirrings of something new, fragile, and profound.

A connection forged in the heat of battle. A partnership tempered by shared peril and sacrifice.

The dust settled around you, the eerie silence broken only by the ragged sound of your own breathing. Namjoon's hand tightened on your shoulder, his touch a lifeline in the aftermath of the chaos. You met his gaze and saw your own exhaustion and relief mirrored in those fathomless depths.

But there was no time to rest, no moment to savor your victory. The battle was far from over, and Wooshik's forces wouldn’t be far behind. They would need more support if they were ever to defeat Wooshik successfully.

As if summoned by your thoughts, three figures emerged from the shadows, their faces grim with determination. You instantly recognized them - Bae Suzy, Min Yoongi, and Hirai Momo. Momo and Suzy are members of your coven, the Daughters of Gaia, while Yoong is a member of Namjoon’s, The Inkwell Society.

"We came as soon as we heard," Suzy said, her voice low and urgent remorse laced through her voice from not attending the tournament in the first place. "Wooshik's creatures are everywhere, and his power grows by the moment."

Yoongi nodded, his cat-like eyes narrowed. "We have to stop him before it's too late."

Beside you, you watched Namjoon struggle to remain on his feet, but his jaw is set with determination. "Then we will," he said, his voice ringing with conviction as he straightened to his full height. "Together."

Momo stepped forward, her hands already glowing with the telltale shimmer of her healing magick. "Let me help," she murmured, her touch moving over Namjoon, caring for his injuries, before turning her attention to you. She ran her hands over you gently, mending your minor wounds and bruises.

You felt the warmth of her power flowing through you, knitting torn flesh and easing the ache of bruised bones and muscles. But even as your body mended, your mind raced with the enormity of the task before you.

Wooshik was a formidable foe, his mastery of the dark arts unmatched. And yet, as you looked around at the faces of your friends, at the determined set of Namjoon's shoulders, you felt a flicker of hope.

"We can do this," you said, your voice soft but certain. "We have to."

Suzy nodded, her green eyes glinting with resolve. "We'll stand with you," she said, her words a solemn vow. "Until the end."

Yoongi's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Well, let's just hope the end isn't today," he drawled, his dry humor a welcome respite from the tension.

Namjoon's hand found your shoulder again, gripping it firmly in a silent promise. "It won't be," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not if we have anything to say about it."

And as you stood there, surrounded by your friends and temporary allies' strength and loyalty, you felt a surge of determination. Wooshik may have been powerful, but he had underestimated the true might of your covens.

🪄🪄🪄

You, along with Namjoon and your friends, infiltrated a coven of acolytes known to be loyal to Wooshik and overheard a hushed conversation between two of Wooshik’s most dedicated followers. The witches spoke in hushed tones, their words barely audible over the nearby crackling fire. 

“Have you heard the latest from Wooshik?” one of the witches asked. “He’s been searching high and low for that ancient artifact. It is said that it holds the power to reshape reality itself.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” the other replied. “They say it’s hidden deep within the ruins of the Shadow Keep, a place long forgotten by time.”

Hearts pounding with excitement and dread, you knew you had to act quickly. The artifact was the key to stopping Wooshik. From the overheard conversation, you understood that the journey would be full of treacherous terrain, ancient curses, and the watchful eyes of Wooshik’s minions. 

Undeterred, you set off on a quest to beat Wooshik to the artifact. The trek was grueling, filled with challenges at every turn. With determination, you all brave numerous treacherous mountain passes, crossed raging rivers and fought off attacks from monstrous creatures lurking in the shadows.

Finally, after days of arduous travel, the ancient ruins appeared before you. The once-grand structures were now crumbling, their spires reaching skyward like skeletal fingers grasping at the churning clouds. The stone walls were now covered in overgrown vines. The legends are undeniable. Seeing it before you, the walls pulsed with the immense power you all knew lay within. 

As you drew closer, an unnatural hush fell over your band, a sense of foreboding washed over all of you. The air was heavy with a strange, almost palpable energy, and the ruins seemed to watch you with an eerie silence. A chill ran down your spine as you realized you were not alone. Unseen eyes followed your every move, their presence lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Namjoon moved at your side, his presence comforting in this eerie stillness. Since your battle against Wooshik's beast, a subtle shift had occurred between you - an unspoken understanding, a shared purpose that transcended your rivalry. His gaze met yours, dark eyes reflecting your own unease even as his jaw set with determination.

“We’re almost there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. “Just a little further.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The ruins loomed ahead, their ancient stones casting long, menacing shadows. You shivered as you recalled the words of the acolytes who had led you here.

As you drew closer, the air grew even more oppressive. The once-vibrant colors of the forest seemed to fade, replaced by a sickly pallor. A low, guttural growl echoed from the depths of the ruins.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said with his voice low. He tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. 

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness ahead. It was a monstrous creature, its body a grotesque amalgamation of human and beast. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its claws dripped with a foul, green substance, yet traces of its origin alluded to its fall from grace.

“A fallen guardian,” Namjoon hissed. “We have to be careful.”

With widened eyes, Momo gulps, “That doesn’t look like any guardian I’ve ever seen.”

Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Unfortunately, this one has been possessed and twisted into this demented creature.”

The creature let out a blood-curdling roar and lunged at your group. Namjoon met it with a flurry of sword strikes, his movements swift and precise. But the creature was incredibly strong, and it knocked Namjoon off his feet.

Before the creature could strike again, you leaped forward, your blade glinting in the moonlight. You managed to deflect the creature’s attack, but the force of the blow sent you reeling backward.

Yoongi, Suzy, and Momo joined the fray. As the creature was about to strike again, Yoongi unleashed a barrage of fireballs, forcing it to retreat. Suzy jumped in with her agility to dodge the creature’s attacks and landed a few blows of her own. Stepping up, Momo released her unique powers - just like she could heal with kind hands, she could use that same magick to find even the most minor injuries and transform them into gaping wounds.

The battle raged on, with the clash of metal on flesh and whizzing blasts of magick echoing through the ruins. You fought with everything you had,  fear fueling your determination. Namjoon, Yoongi, Suzy, and Momo also fought valiantly, their combined skills a formidable force against the monstrous creature.

You all fought with a ferocity that surprised even yourselves, the bond between your alliance growing stronger with each passing moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you managed to land the critical blow that brought the beast to its knees. With a final agonizing roar, it collapses to the ground, finally dead.

The air was now thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the ruins were bathed in a haunting silence.  Now exhausted but triumphant, you leaned against each other, struggling to remain on your feet. You braced yourselves and prepared for what lay ahead, sure this would not be the last hurdle. 

Yoongi’s rasp finally broke the silence, “We did it.” 

You all moved deeper into the ruins, hearts pounding anxiously. You knew the artifact was close and were determined to retrieve it before Wooshik could get his hands on it.

The path led you through a series of winding corridors, each one more labyrinthine than the last. The air was thick with dust, the faint smell of decay, and strange, alien symbols carved into the walls.

Finally, you came to a large, circular chamber. In the center of the chamber was a pedestal, upon which rested a glowing orb. The sphere pulsed with an otherworldly energy, and a sense of awe washed over you and your friends as you gazed upon it.

“This must be it,” Suzy breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Before you could touch it, a sinister chuckle echoed through the chamber. A figure emerged from the shadows, his form shrouded in darkness. Wooshik. His eyes glowed with a malevolent light. 

“So, you’ve finally found it,” he taunted, his voice dripping with venom. “But it is too late. The artifact is mine now. Thank you for finding it for me.” You glower at him, the links clicking into place that you were used. A pawn in his game to find what he had sought for years since his corruptness prevented him from knowing where to find it. 

Namjoon stepped forward, placing himself between you and the dark warlock, a former member of his coven. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since he disappeared a few years ago after absconding away with The Crimson Grimoire, an ancient tome containing dark magick. "Your schemes end here, Wooshik," he snarled, power crackling around his clenched fists.

Wooshik raised his hand, a wave of dark energy seeping from his palm. The air seemed to vibrate with the force of his malice as several more warlocks stepped out from the shadows behind him.

Namjoon's hand found yours, gripping tightly. You met his gaze and saw the grim determination etched into every line of his face. In that moment, you understood each other perfectly - no matter what came next, you would face it together.

As one, you grabbed your wands, power surging through you like a raging flood. Suzy, Yoongi, and Momo fell into formation beside you, their magicks intertwining with yours until the very stones trembled beneath your feet.

Wooshik's face contorted in a rictus of rage, his eyes twin pits of obsidian madness. "You cannot stop me!" he roared, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "I will tear the power from your broken bodies and ascend to godhood!"

"Never!" Namjoon gritted out. “We will fight you to our last breath!"

Wooshik raised his hands, dark energy coalescing around him. The ground beneath your feet began to crack and splinter, the ancient ruins groaning as if in agony.

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a wealth of understanding passing between you in that split second. You knew what needed to be done, the sacrifice that victory would demand.

“Fine. Go ahead and cosign your death certificates. I am destined for godhood, for glory eternal.”

You prepared to defend yourselves but weren’t ready for the immense power emanating from Wooshik. Before you could strike first, a wave of energy threw everyone to the ground, adding to the injuries on your already battered and bruised bodies.

Just as Wooshik was about to seize the artifact, a blinding light filled the chamber. Looking up, eyes squinting and hand thrown up to lessen the intense light, a figure stood before them, clad in shimmering robes and radiating an aura of pure power. It was the ancient guardian of the artifact, awakened from its slumber by Wooshik’s intrusion.

The guardian raised his hand, and a beam of pure energy shot forth from his palm, striking Wooshik with a devastating force and sending him flying backward.  

With a groan, Wooshik achingly moved to sit up. “This…is impossible,” he gasped, his once commanding voice reduced to a wheezing rattle. “I am destined for godhood, for glory eternal…”

Namjoon shook his head, grim satisfaction in his eyes as he watched his foe crumble before the guardian here to defend the obscure artifact. “Your only destiny is oblivion, Wooshik. You’ve sown nothing but suffering and ruin. Now, you’ll reap the consequences.”

Wooshik’s eyes bulged, his handsome face contorting into a mask of pure hatred. With a final, desperate howl, he lunged to his feet and rushed at your group, hands outstretched like claws seeking to rend and tear.

But his strength was spent, his power broken. Yoongi’s blade flashed in a silver arc, biting deep into the dark warlock’s chest. Wooshik staggered back, a look of almost comical surprise on his face as he glanced down at the blooming crimson stain.

Before Yoongi could strike the killing blow, the remainder of Wooshik’s men grabbed the injured foe and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The guardian turned to the remaining witches and warlocks, his eyes filled with a serene light. He gestured towards the artifact, and a gentle, unseen force lifted it into the air. The orb hovered above the guardian for a moment, then descended into his outstretched palm.

“Take it,” the guardian encouraged, his voice echoing through the chamber. “It is yours to protect.”

With wide, blinking eyes, you took the mysterious artifact from the guardian’s hand. A wave of power surged through you, filling you with a newfound strength and determination.

The guardian faded away as you stepped away from the dais. You turned back to the group, your eyes meeting theirs. A silent understanding passed between you. All of you knew that this fight was far from over. 

🪄🪄🪄

Hours later, you all settled around a campfire, nursing your wounds.

Namjoon looked at you as you both stood off to the side near where your tents were set up—something unreadable flickering in the depths of his dark eyes. “Well, at least we managed to injure him gravely. That should buy us time to recoup and end him for good,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from shouting.

You nodded, your heart heavy with a mixture of relief and dread. The battle had been exhausting both physically and emotionally. You were unsure if you had the strength to face Wooshik again, especially not after almost losing today.

His large hands cupped your shoulders, gently running his palms down your arms. “You’ve been quiet.”

You looked up, sadness echoing in your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. About how close we came to losing.”

“I’m scared, too,” Namjoon admitted. “Scared that we won’t be able to stop Wooshik. Scared that we’ll all die.”

You reached up, pulling his hand from your shoulder and cupping it in yours. “We won’t die,” you reassured, your voice firm. We’re too strong, too determined.”

A small smile spread his plump lips. “You’re right. We are.” A flicker of hope returned to his eyes.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Namjoon leaned down, his forehead coming to rest against yours. His breath ghosted across your lips, and a gasp caught in your throat, a sudden swell of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. The walls you had so carefully constructed, the barriers you had erected to keep him at a distance, crumbled in the face of his raw honesty.

"Namjoon, I..." Your words trailed off, lost in the depths of his gaze.

And then, before you could think and he could second-guess himself, he was kissing you. His soft and insistent lips pressed against yours with a desperate urgency, a need that mirrored the ache in your own heart. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you surrendered to the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss was electric, a spark that ignited a fire within you. Years of tension, of unspoken longing, poured into that single, searing moment. You could taste the salt of his sweat, the coppery tang of blood, but beneath it all, there was something else: something sweet and intoxicating, a promise of what could be.

"Ahem." A pointed cough shattered the spell, and you jerked apart, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

Suzy, Yoongi, and Momo sat a few feet away, their expressions a mix of surprise, amusement, and concern. Suzy's eyebrows were raised, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Yoongi's face was carefully neutral, but you could see the calculations whirring behind his eyes. And Momo... Momo looked torn. Her gaze darted between you and Namjoon with a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Well, that was... unexpected," Suzy drawled, her voice laced with barely contained laughter.

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and defiance. "I... we..."

"It's not what you think," Namjoon said, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. "We were just... caught up in the moment."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed, his gaze probing. "And what, exactly, is this moment going to mean for our mission? For our team?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. What did this mean? For you, for Namjoon, for the battle that lay ahead?

"It means," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "that we're stronger together. That we'll face whatever comes, side by side."

Namjoon nodded in silent affirmation. 

The peace you all had found as you rested, recouping from the long day,  for the night was short-lived. A sudden, searing pain lanced through your skull, driving you to your knees. Distantly, you heard Namjoon cry out and felt his hands on your shoulders as he, too, crumpled under the onslaught.

Images flashed behind your eyelids, vivid and disjointed. A towering citadel, wreathed in shadow. Wooshik, his face contorted in a rictus of mad triumph. And a figure, cloaked and hooded, standing at the dark warlock's side.

As abruptly as it had come, the vision receded, leaving you gasping and disoriented. Namjoon's face swam into focus above you, his eyes wide with concern and a reflection of the same haunted knowledge.

"What… what was that?" Suzy demanded, her voice shaking slightly as she helped Momo to her feet.

"A warning," you managed, your tongue thick and clumsy in your mouth. "Wooshik… he's not alone. He has an ally, someone powerful."

Namjoon nodded grimly, his hand finding yours and gripping tight. "I saw it too. A dark citadel and a figure in the shadows..."

Yoongi's brow furrowed. "Another warlock? Or something worse?"

You shook your head, frustration welling in your chest. "I don't know. But whatever it is, we're running out of time. We need to get back to the others and warn them."

Chapter Two

[yearofinstitutionalization]

195/638 One Suga a day while he is away

[jimxnslight]

Chapter 5: Dodgeball

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

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 4k

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

A/N: Exams are finally over, so here's an update. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

Your gaze stayed fixed on the man before you, hunched over as he cradled his bruised jaw with one hand. Was this what Principal Park had meant when he had said the Academy wasn’t entirely safe? You had assumed that he had been referring to secret abductions in the middle of the night or underlying schemes being formulated in the shadows. 

Not outright attacks being done in the centre of the main hall while the morning’s sunlight still shone brightly. 

You paused as the sound of expensive dress shoes striking against the marble floor echoed around the hall, each step slow and confident to reveal someone entering through the same doors the guy a few metres away from you had stumbled through just a few seconds earlier. 

You would have ignored whoever it was and walked over to the guy still crouched on the floor, but at the last second your gaze caught onto a few strands of dark purple, causing your head to snap towards him in shock.

Jimin’s brother paused at the doorway, scanning the main hall nonchalantly with those familiar occult red eyes. Even without the dimly lit atmosphere and dark shadows he seemed just as menacing as he had last night. The only difference was that now you could just barely pick up on an underlying anger lurking behind the nonchalant facade. 

His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your standing form beside the Tree of Life, before it ultimately fell on the guy on the floor. 

At the sight of Jimin’s brother the guy pushed himself off the ground quickly with wide eyes and hands hovering upwards in a sign of surrender. 

Wait… was he the one that was doing this?

As if to answer your question, Jimin’s brother walked over to him and grabbed his collar with a gloved hand, dragging him with it until he slammed him against the nearest wall. 

The main hall began to fill with students from the dining hall, all of whom seemed curious, and clearly entertained, by the current state of events. They all made sure to give the two a wide area of space though, evidently making sure they wouldn’t get involved. 

Typical. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to get involved either. There was that feeling back in your chest, the one of elation whenever you watched men fight each other; whenever they decided to inflict pain on their own rather than on you. You knew it was wrong to feel that way, your hate didn’t blind you that much, but you still couldn’t seem to help yourself.

Come on, don’t be a monster Y/N, you thought with a sigh. 

You forced yourself to take a step towards the two, opening your mouth to reluctantly stop whatever was going on, but then paused as you suddenly recognised who Jimin’s brother had pinned to the wall. 

Wasn’t that the guy that had bullied Seokjin yesterday? What was his name… Jihoon?

“Look man,” Jihoon said, hands still up in surrender as Jimin’s brother held his collar, “I don’t understand what I did! Please just let me go, I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s brother grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes that did not match his calm tone, “not so tough now, are we?”

His gaze dropped to the bruise on Jihoon’s jaw, which was now turning an ugly shade of purple, “that’s disappointing, I was expecting a good fight.”

You watched Jihoon cower a bit when his gaze raised to meet his once again, “you want me to leave you alone?”

“Y-yes,” Jihoon answered, so quickly that you almost felt bad for him. Jimin’s brother nodded slowly, clearly relishing in his fear.

“Okay, but only on one condition.”

Jimin’s brother leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, but to your surprise, Jihoon seemed to freak out at the action. His head immediately jerked backwards, causing it to hit against the wall behind him roughly. A pained groan escaped his lips. 

You narrowed your gaze at the excessive reaction. You knew Jihoon was a coward the second you had caught him preying on Seokjin, but still… Jimin’s brother had only leaned forward. Was Jihoon really that scared of him?

Jimin’s brother ignored the reaction, waiting for him to stop groaning over his head, before he leaned forward once again and whispered something near his ear. You felt everyone strain their ears to try and listen to his words, but they were spoken much too low for anyone, including you, to hear. 

His words elicited another reaction from Jihoon, but this time it was more of a shocked response than a frightened one. 

“You what?!” He said incredulously, his hands dropping to his sides.

But one withering glare from Jimin’s brother suddenly had him nodding instantly, “wait- okay! Okay, I swear!”

“Great,” Jimin’s brother grinned with fake amusement for a moment before it dropped.

“Now get lost.”

Jihoon scrambled away from him the second he was freed, half running through the front doors of the academy. It was almost comical the way Hannah, the blonde foreigner that had been with him yesterday, ran after him while calling his name. The two definitely made for an interesting pair, you’ll give them that much. 

You looked back at Jimin’s brother, only to find him already walking out of the hall without another word. His expression was far from the amused cocky bastard from last night, this time filled with hidden rage that you questioned. You distantly wondered what Jihoon could have possibly done to make him so angry. 

“Cheonsa,” a voice behind you stated suddenly.

You turned around to find an unfamiliar girl standing next to you, dressed in the same Elitist Academy uniform as your own. Similar to Hannah she was also a foreigner, but her dark brown hair was pulled into short braids under her maroon cap while her light brown skin stood out against her cream-coloured collar. 

“Sorry, what?” You asked, unsure of what she had just said.

While the students that had stayed to watch the spectacle began making their way to their classes, she just continued to stand beside you and stare at the door in which Jimin’s brother had disappeared behind, “the guy that just practically beat up Jihoon, his name is Park Cheonsa.”

“Cheonsa?” You repeated, tilting your head slightly, “that’s an… odd name.”

The word itself translated to ‘angel,’ but you’d never actually heard anyone use it as a name before. The irony of someone like him being named angel was also not lost on you. 

“He’s the principal’s son, which is why he can get away with acting out like that. I’d be careful around him if I were you.”

You almost snorted, but held yourself back at the last minute so that you didn’t come off as rude. Everyone in this academy had rich parents that allowed them to act however they wanted, it was practically a requirement in order to get into the school. 

Still, it was sweet of her to give you a warning anyway.

You gave her a smile, “thanks for the warning… I guess. What’s your name?”

“Oh right!” She breathed with an embarrassed smile, “I almost forgot, I’m Amelia!”

“Y/N,” you offered, “it’s nice to meet you, Amelia.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Y/N, you’re really nice,” she said, then added shyly, “it’s been kind of hard to find nice people in this Academy.”

You regarded her for a moment, contemplating her words. She must have been from one of the more lower class families. In a place where everyone was rich, the students treated each other based on how rich their families were. So while Amelia was far from worrying about when her next meal would be, she and the students like her were probably taking the brunt of the bullying in this place. 

It was a sad truth, one that had you sympathising with her. 

“People can be real jerks, I totally get it,” you agreed, offering her another smile, “but if it means anything, you can always consider me a friend. Only if you’d like to, of course.”

To your surprise, Amelia frowned, “that’s very kind of you, but… if you’re seen with me, won’t they start targeting you as well? I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a light chuckle escaping your lips before you could stop yourself, “you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll be fine.”

You were sure word must have gotten out by now about who you were. Whether it was regarding your ability or the identity of your parents, either piece of information would be more than enough to protect you from any kind of bullying. 

“Besides,” you continued, giving her a dramatic frown, “I don’t even have any friends. You’re really going to let me die of loneliness?”

Amelia just laughed, shaking her head at you, “I didn’t realise your life was on the line here. In that case, how can I say no?”

With a smile, you checked the time on your phone, noticing that your class was about to start soon, “I have class right now, so I need to get going. Maybe we can meet up during break?”

“Really?” Amelia said, almost in surprise, as her expression brightened at the offer, “of course, I would love to!” 

You nodded, “great, I’ll see you later in that case.”

You started to turn around, feeling bad that you couldn’t stay and talk to her for longer since you knew being late to class wasn’t going to do your grades any favours, but was stopped when Amelia suddenly placed her hand on your shoulder at the last second, as if she had needed to work up the courage to do it. 

“Hey, listen…” She started hesitantly, “before you go, I just wanted you to know that I’ll stand up for you if people start treating you badly because of me. I’m not the type to just watch a friend suffer silently.”

You smiled at her thoughtfulness. Obviously it was too early to tell, but you had a feeling that Amelia was going to become a pretty close friend after today. Or maybe that was just something you wanted to happen and you were projecting. Either way, you had no issues with getting closer to the sweet girl standing before you. 

-

-

-

“You’re joking right?”

Namjoon stared at you incredulously, his eyes narrowing in that way that always seemed to make whoever his target was at that moment feel like they had a baseball for a brain. Hell, it used to make you feel like the dumbest person on Earth until you finally stopped letting it get to you. 

You were sitting in the same History of Magic 101 class as yesterday, except the size of the class had evidently decreased. Instead, the lecture hall was now only filled with 8 other students, male students, aside from yourself, just as Principal Park had explained. 

“The ability to control magic was completely absent during the Mesozoic era,” Namjoon continued to insist, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You sat back in your chair, mimicking his action with a raised brow, “tell that to the dinosaur bones that were recently discovered to have traces of magic in them.”

He scoffed, “humans are the only species with the ability to influence magic, so how could this ability have existed when humans didn’t?” 

Making sure to keep your gaze on Namjoon, you focused on your peripheral vision to study Ms. Kari, who was standing on the podium. To your delight, you noticed her hands placed frustratedly on her hips as she gave both you and Namjoon a look mixed with exhaustion and irritation. 

“And how do you know dinosaurs couldn’t control magic back then?” You questioned, focusing back on the man sitting a few seats away from you to goad him further, “it would explain the traces of magic found in their bones.”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Cheonsa throw his head back in a muted groan before propping himself forward on his hands with a sigh. The rest of the class looked back and forth between the two of you, whether invested in the debate or confused by it you didn’t know. 

“The magic in their bones could have come from anywhere!” He argued, “it could have been absorbed from their surroundings or simply remnants of life magic from when they were still alive! Today’s animals lack the ability to influence magic, therefore it’s likely that the dinosaurs were the same.”

“Not necessarily,” you shot back, “perhaps dinosaurs became extinct due to their ability to influence magic while animals today survive only because they cannot? You ever heard of selective pressures, Namjoon?”

“Then what about-”

“This is the fourth time you both have broken into an argument after I asked a simple question to the class,” Ms. Kari finally spoke, interrupting Namjoon with a scowl, “I understand that you two seem to already have extensive knowledge on the class material, but these outbursts are disrupting my teaching.”

“If they don’t stop, I will have to start taking more severe action,” she threatened, making sure to look both you and Namjoon in the eye, “is that understood?”

Namjoon gave you one last look before turning to face Ms. Kari once again, “yes, Ms. Kari.”

“It won’t happen again,” you added.

But you lied.

It was definitely going to happen again. 

If Principal Park wasn’t going to switch your cohort, then you were just going to have to take matters into your own hands. See, if you were to keep causing disruptions in class, Ms. Kari would eventually have to take it up with the Principal. And since Principal Park would have to take action, but can’t kick you out of the school, he would have no other choice but to switch your class. He’d probably switch you to private tutoring, which you were no stranger to. 

All you had to do was argue with Namjoon a few times per class, which was beyond easy considering Namjoon’s unlimited ego and his constant need to prove himself right all the time. 

If everything went as planned you’d be out of here by the end of the week. 

But until then, you’d have to survive your classes the way they were at the moment. 

So you did.

The rest of the class went smoothly for the most part, aside from a couple more small arguments you started between yourself and Namjoon, until the bell rang and everyone began making their way to the next class.

You walked into the women’s dressing room, making sure to lock it before beginning to change out of your uniform. Your next class was physical education, which required you to slip into your academy-issued gym clothes. The gym uniform consisted of a white, fitted short-sleeve t-shirt that had been tailored to your exact specifications and loose red shorts that ended just below your mid-thigh. You decided to also pull on the matching red zip-up sweater, with the gold emblem printed on the lapel unlike the formal uniform, wishing that it would protect you from more than just a chilly breeze. 

You fixed your hair up into a ponytail as you walked out of the dressing room and started making your way out of the academy. The physical education class was to be held in the field in front of the school, so you stepped onto the grass reluctantly while scanning the area. 

The guys had already arrived, each of them wearing the same uniform you were while lounging around or just casually chatting with one another as they waited for the Professor to arrive. Some had opted to wear the sweater while others had chosen to discard theirs haphazardly at the edge of the field. 

You chose to stand off to the side, unable to stop yourself from sulking a bit at not having anyone to talk to. It sucked to be in a class full of men, but you reminded yourself that you just had to wait it out for one week. Then, hopefully, your plan would grant you some form of peace.

Too in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Yoongi had walked up to you until he was standing right beside you with his arms crossed over his chest. He stood for a moment, completely unnoticed by you until he suddenly spoke. 

“Stop that.”

You turned to him, gaze unintentionally falling on the black patch covering his left eye. It came as a surprise to you that he had approached you and started up a conversation considering he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy talking to others. 

“Stop what?” You replied, turning your face away to study the field once again. 

“You’re practically burning holes through everyone’s head with your glare,” he commented, “stop it, it’s annoying.”

You scoffed. What was up with this guy and always trying to tell you what to do? Maybe Jungkook was right and he really was some creep that was into that or something.

“If it bothers you so much, you can always just go away,” you said.

You could feel his gaze boring into the side of your head, making you shift uncomfortably before you turned to glare at him. He only titled his head slightly.

“You know,” he started, “Namjoon told us about your obvious hate towards our gender. Care to explain the reasoning behind such strong feelings?”

“No.”

He narrowed his eye, opening his mouth to probably prod you further, but to your relief you noticed the Professor stepping onto the field. 

He was a tall guy, maybe one of the tallest men you’d ever seen, and dressed in a dark grey tracksuit and black dress shoes. The zip of his jacket was pulled down halfway to reveal a white collared shirt and a neatly-made maroon tie. Everything about him seemed neat. His dark brown hair was trimmed and brushed tidily to the side while his gleaming black framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.

Without another glance towards Yoongi, you made your way towards the Professor alongside the other guys. You all formed a ring around him, waiting for him to start the class.

“This is Physical Education 101,” he said gruffly, “I’m Professor Son, but you will only refer to me as sir. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” You all exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had joined the military.

“Now I know what most of your old high school Phys Ed classes must have looked like,” he said, eyeing each and every one of you, “they were seen as a break from studying, usually a period to waste time and have fun.”

“But from now on you can forget those days, because moving forward this class will take everything out of you. It will be merciless, just like the real world, so you’ll learn to suck it up, and hopefully, by the end of it, you’ll make something of yourselves.”

Mr. Son rested a hand over his hip as the other stroked his chin in thought. 

“Since today’s your first day, I’ve decided we’ll play a game of dodgeball,” he said. Then, as if a thought just occurred to him, he suddenly began to laugh, “hope you survive enough for your next class.”

There was something… scary about his laugh. While Cheonsa’s laugh had sounded like a warning, his just sounded cruel. But you were only playing dodgeball, how bad could it be?

When he finally let his laugh subside, Mr. Son waved a hand around, “now get into two teams, you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

At his words, everyone hurried to place themselves into a group as quickly as possible. Mr. Son was clearly one of the mean teachers, and no one wanted to get on the bad side of a teacher that already had it out for you. 

Since none of the guys really knew each other that well, the groups formed pretty much based on how close to each other everyone was standing. In a matter of seconds, groups of four students had formed on either side of you.

The only issue was that you had been standing mostly in the middle of the two, making you hesitate for a moment. With the groups already being equal, and you standing directly in the middle of them, you didn’t know which one you were meant to go into. But under Mr. Son’s scrutinising eye, you quickly shuffled over to the group on the right, barely paying attention to who was in that team. 

You unintentionally ended up standing next to Jungkook, who gave you a grin. He was one of the guys who had decided to discard the zip-up sweater and instead wore only the white, short-sleeve shirt with his red shorts. Under the sunlight you could make out an athletic, but toned, body, the thin material doing a poor job of hiding his prominent muscles. 

“You have a good eye, Y/N,” he said as Mr. Son turned away from the groups, “you’ve skillfully chosen the winning team, congratulations.”

Your gaze strayed from him to study the rest of the group. It was annoying that you had ended up in the same group as Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi, and of course Jungkook. But then again, joining the other group would have meant being teammates with Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Cheonsa, who were equally annoying. Basically it was a lose-lose situation either way. 

To your left Hoseok, who was on the other team, snorted, but his expression was humorous, “sorry, what was that? Did you say the losing team? Because if so you’d be right.”

“In your dreams maybe,” Jungkook laughed, only for Mr. Son to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, leave the trash talking for the actual game,” he said as he brought out his wand and directed it towards the centre of the field. A neat line of dodgeballs appeared from thin air, bright red and soft-looking under the sun.

“Though we’ll see how much you’ll feel like talking soon enough. Now get in position.”

The two teams immediately separated, walking to either side of the field before crouching over the white line outlining its edge. You opted to crouch beside Jimin, who gave you a quick thumbs up before refocusing on the dodgeballs in the centre of the field. 

Even though you didn’t care much about winning a stupid game of dodgeball, you couldn’t help but study the other team anyway. Hoseok seemed the most into it as he called out suggestions to the rest of his team for reaching the dodgeballs before everyone else, while Cheonsa just rolled his eyes at the effort. Beside him Taehyung seemed just as apathetic, but he seemed to at least be a little less apparent about it. Seokjin, on the other hand, seemed like he wanted to be anywhere except here. 

The difference in attitude between Hoseok and his team was almost laughable. 

The nine of you watched Professor Son walk alongside the sidelines of the field until he paused beside the line of dodgeballs. He brought out his phone, seemingly checking something, before he faced you all once again. 

“The game begins at the sound of the whistle,” he announced, earning him a few nods. 

“Three,” he began to count, “two”

“One.”

Mr. Son suddenly brought his wand upwards, flicking his wrist so that it rounded into a circle in the air. Not even half a second later the sound of a shrill whistle cut through the silence, as clearly as if someone had blown into one right beside your ear. 

“Begin!”

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Flowers of Fate | Lavender & Thyme

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

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

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

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

“More or less,” JK mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoon—!”

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

“The fae can’t lie, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌸🌸🌸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌸🌸🌸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely fucking not!” JK roars immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

“Under the oak?” Mini asks quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—uh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So it would seem,” Yoongi muses playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me yours,” Yoongi pleads.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s like a dagger to Jimin’s heart.

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38 | Legends of Darlaria

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

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

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

⨰ warnings: profanity, gruesome depictions of the war, death, blood

⨰ wordcount: 5.8k

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⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

“On your left!” Jungkook roared over the din of cries on the battlefield. He valiantly swung his sword, catching several Solarian limbs in the process, and sliced right through them as if they were made of paper. Mangled bodies crumpled to the floor, writhing as paper tended to in flames. He marched on, leaving his enemies to die, covered in blood that wasn’t his.

Swerving right, you narrowly missed a ball of fire, no doubt aimed at your head. It would’ve killed you had Jungkook not warned you. But on the battlefield, there was never any time to express gratitude, for one misstep, one second of wasted time could be fatal. Before the enemy could attack you again, you twisted your torso, eyes squinting as you concentrated on their limbs. In seconds, they turned into jelly. The Solarian soldier collapsed into a miserable, trembling heap, fear overtaking their features as their quivering eyes landed on the silver insignia on your black uniform—such a symbol only a General would be fit to wear. Their look of fear spoke to you. Please don’t kill me.

You turned your head.

Never look a helluvian straight in the eyes, Jungkook told you so many times before.

The first time he’d said that you and Hajin had been curious. But why? you’d asked in unison. The two of you had been so naïve then, inexperienced to the real atrocities of war.

It’ll humanize them, Jungkook had answered. It’s easier if you don’t think of them as people.

You walked away from the pleading soldier, sparing their life at the moment, but knowing their death was imminent. They had nowhere to run, for there was an entire unit of Darlaean soldiers right behind them. Guilt ripped through your guts, but you swallowed it just as you usually did. If Jungkook could walk away so easily, you should be able to, too.

You caught up to your lieutenant, who, despite the grueling hours already spent on the field, only had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. If he weren’t drenched in others’ blood, it would’ve been hard to believe he was at war. Jungkook glanced at you from his peripheral vision and nodded to himself as if he were glad you were left unscathed from your last encounter. Then he was off again, his sword glinting in the afternoon sunlight, his sapphire radiant amongst the sea of deep red and black uniforms. He always moved as if he saw ten steps ahead—perhaps he truly did. 

“On your right!” you called in caution. 

Yet, the Solarian you’d warned about was already writhing on the ground by the time you finished your sentence. Jungkook gave you a knowing look. Thanks anyway.

You and your lieutenant ventured further into the battlefield, working in perfect tandem and paving a path for the rest of your army. You had no need for weapons—nor did you prefer them. So, you stuck to your maskings, which were temporary and meant to be innocuous. It was stupid, of course, to think that you were mitigating the Solarians’ pain by masking their limbs into jelly or their scarlet uniforms into stone. They would die anyway. But you just couldn’t do it. It was selfish and cowardly; yet, even the thought of having someone else’s blood on your hands made you feel sick. You couldn’t look anyone in their eyes—Solarian or not—and kill them. How could you? They were people too—people who just happened to be wearing a different uniform. They, too, would have loved ones to go back to after the battle was over. They, too, would mourn the deaths of the fallen once the rust-colored dust settled. They, too, would antagonize the very people who dared to take the lives of their brave ones. Yes, it was naïve to think you, the General of the Darlaean Army, could get away without spilling blood on her hands—you knew that. You also knew your refusal to kill was to satiate your own sense of morality. But knowing that you weren’t the direct cause of anyone’s demise gave you peace of mind—the kind that allowed you to sleep better at night and maintain your appetite. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, didn’t mind a bit of bloodshed. 

“Move!” he shouted. Even amongst the roar of the battle, you could hear his booming voice, devoid of its usual silvery tone. He sent a forceful kick to a Solarian in his way, sliced their head off, and leaped into the three-way fight that Seokjin was on the verge of losing. Your poor comrade sported burn marks all over his sleek uniform and looked exhausted, though determined to persevere. Still, it was three against one; if Jungkook hadn’t intervened, Seokjin would be dead.

In a flash, your lieutenant severed the limbs of one of Seokjn’s attackers and size-shifted the eyes of the other until they popped out of his skull. That gave Seokjin just enough time to duck the ball of fire of the third and deliver a killing kick to her head. Before the captain could express his gratitude, Jungkook was off again, moving swiftly with the wind, the only glint of color coming from the sapphire on his sword. Seokjin looked stunned for half a second, as one may when one was only seconds away from death, but he hastily resumed fighting, covering your blind spots. You, in turn, allowed Jungkook to take the lead.

The march back to base was a blur as usual. You carried an injured soldier on your back while Jungkook hauled two over each of his strong shoulders right next to you. There were casualties as usual, but they were much lower than expected. Even more miraculously so, you and Jungkook sustained no major injuries—a remarkable feat, considering you had been on the front lines. But perhaps that was just beginner’s luck, for you were the freshly made General and her lieutenant.

Your officials didn’t have to tell you the battle was a success for you to know it. 

“I heard you guys killed it!” Hajin said excitedly, grabbing two deviled eggs in each hand and shoving them in her mouth without chewing nearly as much as she should. The three of you were dining in your private quarters, which contrasted starkly with the barracks you were so accustomed to. Private quarters and an office came with your new title. Plus, extravagant food.

“It did go pretty well,” you said, smiling. “Better than expected. I just can’t believe it. No deaths, minimal casualties… Who would’ve thought?”

“Well, that new formation of yours was impenetrable. Absolutely no flaws at all,” Jungkook said as he sipped some wine. He was no longer using one of those half-rusted metal cups. Instead, the dark red wine sat in a beautiful crystal glass. His new title came with perks too. “Seokjin had a close call to death, though. If I hadn’t intervened.”

“Seokjin?” Hajin snorted. “Captain Kim?”

“It was three against one,” Jungkook said. “I had to help him out.”

“I bet he’s going to worship you now,” Hajin snorted. “Maybe he’ll worship you more than he worships Y/N.”

“Oh, come on,” you said. “He’s just a dedicated.”

“Come to think of it, he thanked me after the battle for saving his life and offered to shine my shoes for me.” Jungkook stared down at his feet. “But my shoes are always clean.”

“Well, did you tell him that?” Hajin asked as she took another deviled egg from the plate and took a gigantic bite.

“I did,” Jungkook said. “But he seemed insistent on assisting me in some way, so I let him wash a few of my uniform sets.” He smiled. “Y/N’s right. He’s dedicated. What a great guy.”

Hajin leaned back in her seat, grinning so widely you could nearly see her entire front row of teeth. “I’m so glad we’re still doing this,” she said with a content sigh. “You know, our late-night dinners.”

“And we’ll never stop,” you said. “I look forward to them every night.”

“As do I,” Jungkook said with a soft smile. 

The candles in your private quarters flickered, and the breeze from your open window helped the floral scent of the melted wax permeate through the room. It was a cool night, one that made you feel extra warm inside of your quarters. And in that moment, sitting with your loved ones, talking with them over dinner and drinks, you realized that you’d finally accepted your position. You were the General of the Darlaean Army. And you were no longer worried about it. 

But with this much power came a mountain of responsibility. You were determined to change Darlae for the better, as Instructor Shin always believed you would. And now you had the means to, for you commanded hundreds of thousands of soldiers who risked their lives in your name as well as the nation’s. 

It was strange. Before you were the General, you felt meek and never quite enough, but as soon as you assumed your new title, you morphed into a different person. Perhaps General Son did see your inner potential when he chose you. Or perhaps you didn’t want to fail him when he’d put so much faith in you. So, when all eyes were on you, believing in you, you realized that you had no other choice but to be who they wanted you to be. And instead of that being exhausting, it awakened a part of you that you didn’t know existed.

You shifted the funds, spending hours attempting to make the math work to provide better meals for your soldiers. By the end of the circa, the kitchens were bustling with royal chefs you and Hajin handpicked from the 12th city. Gone were the sad, dry variations of meat, bread and corn that sometimes left the soldiers going to bed still hungry, and in came roast ducks and pigs, delicious, crumbly pastries, and sweet, fresh fruits. 

When you realized some soldiers weren’t getting adequate sleep, you strictly banned your officials from giving their subordinates work to do after hours. Within weeks, you saw improvements in training performances. You were generous with giving soldiers free leave as well. When Taehyung’s sister grew seriously ill, you comforted him and offered him ample leave. He cried happy tears. When his sister’s condition grew worse, you had her looked after by your private team of healers; they never had much to heal for you, anyway.

When you stepped into the infirmary again after spending circas avoiding it, you realized how much of a shithole it was—smelled like one, too. Immediately, you sourced more healers from the 4th city, expanded the building itself, and added ventilation, which had been years overdue. 

Every soldier you met, you tried to remember their name so that the next time you saw them, you could call them by it. You also insisted that others called you by your first name, for General Kwang felt far too removed from who you were. You were merely Kwang Y/N, who happened to lead the army. Your soldiers were also more than their titles, so you called them by their names, too.

You tried to visit the 12th city as much as you could—to pay your respects to Hoseok and to occasionally facilitate the training program for adolescents. The cadets loved it when you rolled up to the castle gates in your fancy carriage. They would always crowd around you, telling you about their latest training and duels. You knew every one of their names, and if there was a face you didn’t recognize, you asked for an introduction.

Every so often, you would have a speech prepared for the cadets. You talked about your experience in the Training Corps, your hopes and dreams when you were their age—though most of them weren’t that much younger than you. You loved the bright looks in their eyes when they listened to you speak. It was as if somehow, your words were inspiring them. That, in turn, inspired you to visit them more often; they were the future of the army, after all.

But things weren’t always so perfect. Outwardly, you were the charitable General who single-handedly shifted the cutthroat army into a place of unity and understanding. You were on par with Guseul to some, though you couldn’t find that believable. You were simply human, not a legend who founded an entire nation. In the end, all of these good deeds came at your expense.

You lost sleep over brainstorming new ways to improve the army. When you weren’t fighting, approving battle plans and signing documents, you were memorizing your soldiers’ names and worrying over their wellbeing. Even when you were driven back to the 12th city to relax, the war was still on your mind. You couldn’t escape it.

What’s worse, your relationship with Jungkook took its first rocky turn.

He stood in front of your desk, arms crossed and frowning. You were sitting in your chair, looking up at him, pleading with him to be reasonable.

“It’s not setting a good example,” he told you, crossly. You’ve never seen him frown at you like that before. “I’m trying to help you,” he said. “As your Lieutenant General, I’m giving you advice.”

“But I can’t, Jungkook,” you said. “I can’t just kill...”

“Don’t you understand?” he said, running a frustrated hand up his hair. “You’re killing them anyway if you’re leaving them immobilized on a damn battlefield.”

“But they could still survive,” you countered desperately.

Jungkook gave you a look. “You know that’s not how the war works.”

He was right. He was so painfully right. But… “It’s… It’s my moral code, Jungkook. I just… I can’t kill someone because they were born in another nation that we happen to be at war with. What did they ever do to me? They’re only attacking me because they were ordered to. Because I’m wearing black and they’re wearing red. Please, can’t you understand?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, his voice cold. You never heard him speak like that; it made you feel so small, so stupid. “Our soldiers fight not because they were told to but because of passion. Because of hatred. Why do you think so many of us use light magic? They are motivated to march into battle, to kill the enemy because they believe those fucking helluvians are the scum of the earth. If you spare them in battle, if you show them mercy, your practices will bleed into your soldiers’ heads. They will begin to believe that these, these helluvians deserve to see kindness. They’re going to lose their passion, their hatred, their motivation. They will lose their will to fight. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“We have no choice but to continue to create propaganda that slanders the Solarian name. I would even argue that we must increase it to heighten morale.”

You shook your head, your hands gripping onto the edge of your desk. “But you don’t even believe in that sort of propaganda. Do you…?”

Jungkook gave you a long, hard look. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know his answer. 

“But you told me,” you said. “You once told me that I don’t have to kill. That with my… my talent, I wouldn’t need to.”

Jungkook didn’t even flinch. “That was before you became the General of the Darlaean Army,” he said. “Before you had any influence.”

Before you had any influence… Of course when you were a nobody, you could do anything you wanted on the battlefield; no one was watching. But now that you were the General, expectations were different. There were always people watching. It was a good point. Yet… “I don’t know…” you whispered. “I really don’t know…”

He only sighed. “Sleep on it,” he said. “But not for too long. I’ll still be expecting you at dinner.”

You showed up to dinner that day, not having made up your mind. Then, you proceeded to sleep on it for many, many weeks. In the end, nothing was done. You continued to have mercy on the Solarians you met on the battlefield, which you knew disappointed Jungkook, but maybe you were weak. Maybe you were selfish. Maybe you were a coward. Even after all of those battles you’ve been on, you were never able to shake that fear out of you. So you couldn’t do it. And if your soldiers couldn’t do it either, you wouldn’t blame them. Jungkook never asked about it again.

More battles flew by. You saw mostly victories, a few losses and many casualties, but your soldiers were resilient. They absorbed the new charms you developed and deployed them on the battlefield with ease. They learned the formations you assigned to them and executed them flawlessly. When they were hurt, they took their generous leave, but always came back, looking to serve their nation once again. You worked hard to support their ambitions, though with the tides of the war turned so far over in the Darlaeans’ favor, there was more room to breathe, which equated to more free time. 

Your dress collection began to grow. You spent odd hours in the night sketching your latest designs in your precious leather-bound notebooks and then masking them into gowns that were your exact size. You played around with fabrics: silk, velvet, cotton, lace, wool, satin. You experimented with different lengths and gowns for all sorts of occasions. The collection expanded so large that you had two other wardrobes built just to fit your chambers in the 12th city. 

Your wardrobe was rather small in the 1st city, understandably so, so you often rotated your gowns when visiting the 12th. There was a different dress for every occasion, every dinner meeting, every royal event. When you weren’t fighting in the war and leading official meetings, you discarded the rather drab Darlaean uniform, which you didn’t dare change for any other than legacy reasons. You didn’t mean to have fashion attached to your name, but it was inevitable with the meticulous way you chose to dress yourself. Your clothes told your story—each one mindfully made and woven with your emotions.

The lavender gown with sage ribbons evoked a sense of nostalgia when you donned it, for it was one of the very first gowns you successfully created. It reminded you of your training program days—before you went to war, before your military titles and the whole nation knowing your name. Things were much simpler then, which had manifested itself in the gown; though beautiful and flowy, it was rather plain in design. Yet, the intricate colors resembling springtime sprigs of grass and pretty lilac blossoms made up for it. 

The cotton garnet-hued dress tasted of blood—the aftereffects of your first victory as the Darlaean General. Inspired by the sea of red uniforms you faced and immobilized, the gown reeked of death, and yet just the faintest bit of triumph. The material was akin to the Solarian uniform: cotton, breathable, and perhaps a little shapeless. It had been a materialization of your fears on the battlefield—the fires, the blood, the Solarians. You never wore it, for it resembled the Solarian’s style and Jungkook wouldn’t approve, so it sat in the back of your wardrobes in the 12th city.

Then there was that sleek, silvery gown you’d crafted with soft tufts of fur around the neckline. This was an experimental one when you were playing around with the juxtaposition of contrasting materials. While you didn’t quite like the outcome, Jungkook did. He would always run his fingers over the fur, eyes glinting with longing. So, on one of his birthdays, you fashioned him a majestic cape made of similar material. He wore it everywhere, and especially to battle—something about enjoying the looks of horror on the Solarian’s faces when they realized he donned real animal fur.

The gowns that you did enjoy wearing, you often twirled around in them in front of your mirror, watching the hems flutter and the colors blend together like the wind. Sometimes, you had an audience—usually Jungkook and Hajin—who would give you second opinions on your designs. Though Hajin was never quite as interested in fashion as you—and occasionally Jungkook—she was still supportive. When she could, she asked you to configure her gowns for fancy events she was forced to attend as the crown princess. The budgets were glorious for the royal family, so you always enjoyed a worry-free day shopping for fabrics in the 3rd city, never checking the price. You spent countless hours fitting your newest creations on Hajin as her lady-in-waiting fussed over her hair and makeup. 

One such event you diligently prepared Hajin for was the Harvest Ball, a celebration in the 12th city in honor of the fruitful harvest in the 4th. You remembered this simple moment so vividly. The ball had been so suffocating that you, Hajin and Jungkook managed to sneak out to the Sapphire Lake—after you shook the hands of the nobility and gave your scripted speech. 

You could imagine how odd the three of you looked in your formal wear, sitting at the edge of the undulating waters, extravagant clothes soiled by the damp sand. You were wearing your beautiful navy dress that day, the silk one where the skirt rippled like the waves of the lake. An intricate silver circlet sat on your head, complementing the sparkling diamond around your neck. Hajin wore a deep purple chiffon dress you’d fashioned for her, a smooth velvet ribbon wrapped tightly around her waist, much to her disdain. She looked like a true princess with her silver tiara, ruby earrings and delicate necklace. Jungkook was always quite fashionable, and today was no different. He wore his usual slacks, which accompanied the silk and navy button-up you’d masked for the occasion. It was adorned with small sparkling jewels fit for a Lieutenant General. Draped over his shoulders was his fur cape, and tucked into his belt was his sword. He looked fiercely handsome, though you supposed he always did. 

It was peaceful and quiet as the three of you caught your breath after the rather suffocating social scene. You could see the gentle puffs of air leave your mouths from the Circa Amethyst cold. Winter was shedding, though the chilliness seemed to linger. Hajin was the first to break the silence.

“Well, that was a show,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t believe there was a line to talk to you, Y/N!”

You couldn’t believe it yourself. “I thought the attention would’ve been on the 4th city healers,” you said. “They’re the ones we should be thanking for the bountiful harvest.”

“Ah, but food is guaranteed for the nobles,” Jungkook says. “They’re always more interested in the war.”

“I think they made that pretty clear today,” Hajin snorted. She sunk back on her elbows to stare far out into the lake as sand clung to her sleeves. “Do you guys remember when I begged you to explore the Blackwoods?”

“You’re not going to beg us again today, are you?” Jungkook asked. Though his tone was serious, he was smiling.

“Of course not!” Hajin said. “Come on, I’m trying to be nostalgic, here,” she teased, reaching in front of you to playfully shove Jungkook’s left shoulder. “We sure were rowdy.”

“We?” Jungkook said incredulously.

“Oh, shut up, Lieutenant High-Horse.”

“Remember when we used to skate on this lake?” you asked, trying to dissolve the play-fighting.

“Yeah, and Jungkook would eat shit every time.”

“I appreciate you needing to resurface that detail,” Jungkook bit back sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

They were snarkier than normal today, perhaps paying homage to the sweet, old memories the three of you shared in the Training Corps. Jungkook and Hajin had always loved to bicker. Though with age, they seemed to have grown out of it. Tonight was special, then, for they had reverted to their old antics. A wave of nostalgia came over you.

“We were so young,” you said. It came out more wistfully than you imagined.

“We’re still pretty young,” Hajin said. “Youth is a mindset!” she giggled.

“Clearly,” Jungkook said.

“You wouldn’t understand, you grandpa,” Hajin retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. Jungkook shot you a look.

“Sorry!” you said, stifling another laugh. “I guess I was trying to say we’ve come so far.”

“That’s true,” Hajin said. “Who would’ve thought that I somehow befriended both the General and Lieutenant General?” She slumped into the sand, hands on her stomach as she stared up at the sky with a grin on her face. “I can just taste victory,” she said. “You two have led us straight to it, all right. The war will be over soon.” She sat up excitedly, pumping her fist in the air. “We’ll punish every last one of those tree huggers for ever messing with the Jung Dynasty!”

Jungkook entertained her. “Oh, really? What will you do once the war is over and every last one of the helluvians is punished?”

Hajin paused. “That’s a good question, Lieutenant,” she said. “I never really thought about it. But I can think about it now! Lemme see…” She tapped her finger on her chin. “I’ll start a Deviled Egg Ball every circa in my name. It shall be a national holiday. Let’s see… I’d also spend some more time with my father. And I do hope they’ll let me continue to wear the Darlaean uniform because I won’t be able to last two days in gowns like these. I’d also take volunteers on an expedition into the Blackwoods,” Hajin said, grinning. “I expect the two of you to come with me, by the way,” she added. “We’ll all be able to search for Guseul’s Hill!”

Jungkook looked at Hajin like she was crazy.

You were nicer. “Let’s discuss that when the war ends,” you said. “We promise.”

Jungkook shot you a look that said, We???

Hajin’s grin grew wider at both your words and Jungkook’s expression. “I’ll look forward to it!”

There was the familiar, yet ever-so-putrid stench of piss and blood. You saw dead bodies left and right—bodies of which were missing their heads or various limbs. Some bodies had already been burned to ash and would soon mix with the blood and soil for the next unit of soldiers to trample over. Your soldiers were crying into the charge—some cried in pain while others cried for mercy. It should’ve been a typical battle. Even with the few losses, you were supposed to emerge victorious. You were winning the war for fuck’s sake.

But in that moment, it felt like you lost everything.

Jungkook saw it at the same time you did. 

She was lying on the ground, face up, her eyes empty yet wide open, a hole through her head. 

First, there was the shock. It sizzled through your body and left it feeling scorched, sucked dry. Your legs threatened to give out. A distinct ringing in your ears came and never left.

Then, it was red. All you saw was red.

Was it rage? The blood? The fucking Solarian uniforms?

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled.

You ran.

The terrain was rugged from the fallen, your feet stumbling over severed limbs and still bodies. You slipped several times, and once, your ankle twisted unnaturally, but there was no pain. It was as if you couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t stop running until you knelt over her, grasping her still warm hands, pretending like she was only in a deep sleep and she’d wake up any moment now. 

“Hajin,” you whispered, squeezing her hands. “Hajin…”

Warm blood trickled down from your forehead. You had no idea how it got there. It sunk into your vision, tinting it red. You tasted iron on your tongue. The droplets dripped from your chin. You wondered where the wailing, the bawling, was coming from until you realized it was from you. 

Yet you couldn’t stop screaming.

Fire hurtled at you. You only had half the mind to duck. 

Someone was calling your name. He was grabbing your shoulder, trying to hoist you up. You fought him, staying on the ground, wrapping your arms around Hajin’s body, rocking back and forth and back and forth.

Another ball of fire careend your way. 

You turned it into smoke with a desperate, clumsy wave of your hand.

The same someone mutilated your attacker, hot blood splattering everywhere, and yelled, “You’ll get yourself killed!” 

You barely heard him.

“H-Hajin…”

You held her close to your heart, fingers tangling into her matted hair, hoping that she would wake up, that the blood spilling from her head was a stupid illusion. Red. It was all so red. Your bloodied hand reached up to touch your necklace.

Hajin… It’s so pretty….

Aw, don’t cry! Everyone in my family has accessory trinkets. My father’s is his crown. My mother’s was a bracelet. Mine’s an earring. And now yours is a necklace. Isn’t it beautiful? Dad thought a ring would be a better fit, but I argued against it. You like to fidget with your trinket, so I thought you’d lose it if it were a ring.

Your shaking hand tucked her dark hair behind her ear to reveal her trinket. The ruby earring had lost its shine as birthstones did when magic no longer coursed through the Darlaean’s veins. You couldn’t bear to look at it, so you let her short hair fall over her ear again.

Look! Look! A secret passageway! We have to explore it! How could this have been in my room all these years? How are we only finding this now? Maybe I should’ve taken up reading earlier. Oh, Y/N, we’ve got to go in there! It’ll be like the secret passageways in my summer home! Oh, what an adventure! I wonder what we’ll find. Today’s looking out to be adventurous after all. Come on!

W-Wait! Don’t you think it’ll be dangerous?

If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t be in my room.

W-What if this is how your aunt disappeared?

Then we can finally solve that mystery! I can always go by myself!

Blood continued to spill out from the wound between her eyebrows, drenching your hands and uniform in red. Red. You were so fucking sick of it. 

It’s the Solarians. They’re murderers! The whole lot of them! Did you see the damage they’ve done in the infirmary? We’ve got to punish them, Y/N! We’ve got to get our vengeance! We’ll defeat those helluvians one day. We can’t keep letting them get away with killing our people, Y/N! Not after what happened to my poor mother! Oh, I miss her, Y/N. Isn’t it sad? She died on the battlefield when I was only four. I can’t remember much, but she had my trinket made for me. See?

You buried your face in her hair, and though blood smeared on your face, you didn’t care.

But guys, it can only go up from here! Seven battles in and… damn. I can’t even explain it! It’s like… It’s like I’m finally doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing! Every time I go out there, I’m raining hell on those stupid helluvians, knowing Mom’s watching me from somewhere, really fucking proud. 

Guys, guys, guys… I just realized something! I swear, if I died now, I would be perfectly content.

A loud sob left your lips.

I think I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted out of my life! I’ve killed some tree huggers, I’ve finally made it to the 1st city, and I even have two amazing bodyguards!

You failed her. You failed your best friend, the crown princess, and you failed her father, the Darlaean King, as well. What would he say? You didn’t want to imagine the horror-stricken look on his face. 

The least you could do was bring her body back with you.

“What the fuck are you doing??”

You grabbed onto her arms, pain shooting up your leg as you stood up. You swore it hadn’t been there before. “I have to bring her back. I have to!” Your voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable.

“Are you fucking insane?”

You ignored the voice. “Retreat!” you screamed. But that command was pointless, not without the violet smoke signal. The world was a blur. “Retreat!”

“Y/N!” The voice was angry now. “Don’t you dare order a retreat!”

“I have to!” 

“Fuck, Y/N, you can’t! We’re so close—”

“Help!” you called to no one in particular. You began dragging her limp body towards the 1st city. Your leg was beginning to feel numb from the pain. “Please, someone! Help!”

“Whatever you do, don’t shoot the retreat signal! I’ll take care of things. Do you understand?” Your shoulders were grasped. “Either leave her or get out of here alive. Do you fucking understand?”

You were a sobbing mess, a mixture of blood, snot and tears all over your face. “Yes,” you said. 

“I can’t cover for you,” he said.

“Jungkook…”

“She’s already dead, Y/N. There’s nothing we can do.”

You were crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe. But you continued to drag Hajin’s body across the battlefield. Your arms ached and your leg was threatening to give out, but you continued. You had to get her back. You owed it to the king. You owed it to her, too.

You were being targeted, but you lashed out at your attackers, immobilizing them by turning their uniforms into stone. You continued to move.

Someone grabbed Hajin’s legs and began helping you carry her across the field.

You didn’t register who he was until minutes later. The kind face, the tousled hair, the soldier, your comrade, your friend, the one who had a boxy smile. “Thank you,” you sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung answered. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, letting go of Hajin’s arm momentarily to throw another hex at a Solarian soldier who dared to get too close.

“Let’s bring her back home, all right?”

You won the battle. But it didn’t really matter.

The king fell to his knees when he saw his daughter’s still body. 

And the entire world wept, it seemed, for Hajin was quite the beloved princess. 

She was so young. Only 22.

I’d take volunteers on an expedition into the Blackwoods. I expect the two of you to come with me, by the way. We’ll all be able to search for Guseul’s Hill!

Let’s discuss that when the war ends. We promise.

I’ll look forward to it!

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: so.... another sad one! the next chapter is one of my favorites :') act II is the saddest act of the series, but don't worry! things get a lot more magical and romantic in the third. meanwhile, hang on and enjoy <3 the next update will be in a month (oct 25th, 2024)

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

[kevinkevinson]

DAY 365 of Hoseok roulette art challenge!!!!! I made it one whole year with hobi!!!

I invited Yoongi for End of the Year Chicken ofc

happy 2024! 🍗

[downbad4yoongi]

Bound By Magic | Chapter Three

🪄Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

🪄AU/Genre: E2L, Magical AU, smut

🪄WC: 11,698

🪄Warnings: smut, minor character death

A/N: This is for @lo1k-diamonds as a part of @bangtanwritershq Sweet Tricks and Wicked Treats exchange

After your tryst with Namjoon, you rejoined Momo and Yoongi to return and inform Haneul of your discovery. You staunchly refused to answer any of Momo’s probing questions as you trekked back toward town. You tried to evade Momo’s inquisition by maneuvering to walk beside Yoongi. Clearly, walking with Namjoon was out of the question, and you would just encourage Momo further. That move wasn’t any better. While silence stretched between the two of you, every now and again, you would catch Yoongi’s eye, and he did a terrible job of suppressing a knowing smirk.

You couldn’t suppress your relief when you finally reached Haneul’s doorstep. You acquiesced and let Namjoon lead the conversation, filling in the sage wizard on what happened while you were gone. Exhaustion dragged at your every muscle; your bones ached for your soft bed and hours of sleep.

As Haneul absorbed the information, his eyes flickered between Namjoon and you. You felt the weight of his ancient gaze upon you, a thoughtful expression etched onto his weathered face.

"This bond between you two is unprecedented," he mused, stroking his long, silver beard. "It may be the key to defeating Wooshik once and for all."

Namjoon's gaze met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The air crackled with the memory of your shared passion, and you quickly looked away, heat rising to your cheeks.

Haneul cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the matter at hand. "You must rest tonight. Tomorrow, we will devise a plan to confront Wooshik and safeguard the ancient relic."

With a nod, you turned to leave, eager to escape the suffocating tension that filled the room. As you stepped out into the cool night air, a hand grasped your wrist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Wait," Namjoon's deep voice resonated in the darkness. "About what happened earlier..."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at his touch. "It was a mistake," you whispered, your words laced with uncertainty.

Namjoon's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees weak. "Was it?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to melt into his embrace and the need to maintain your facade of indifference. "We can't...we shouldn't..."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Tell me you don't feel it, too," he challenged, his voice a seductive whisper.

Your resolve crumbled, and you surrendered to the magnetic pull between you. Your lips crashed together in a desperate, hungry kiss, the world around you fading into oblivion.

Tomorrow, you would face Wooshik and the challenges that were waiting ahead. But tonight, in the shelter of Namjoon's arms, you allowed yourself to forget the impending danger and lose yourself in the fire of your forbidden passion.

🪄🪄🪄

You burst into the dimly lit chamber, your heart pounding as you saw Namjoon, Yoongi, and Momo already gathered around the ancient stone table. The air crackled with urgency and barely contained power.

"We don't have much time," Namjoon said, his dragon-like eyes flashing in the candlelight. "Wooshik grows stronger by the hour. If we don't stop him from claiming the relic..."

He didn't need to finish the dire thought. You all knew what was at stake - the very fate of the magickal realm hung in the balance.

Momo slammed her fist on the table, rattling the ancient tomes. "Then what are we waiting for? I say we take the fight to him, hit him with everything we've got!"

Yoongi shook his head, a gravelly sigh escaping his lips. "Charging in recklessly will only get us killed. We need a plan." He looked at you and Namjoon. "One that uses your...unique connection."

Your eyes met Namjoon's, and an electric and exhilarating shiver raced down your spine. The bond that had formed between you, that inexplicable pull and understanding, was the key. You could feel it in your very bones.

"Yoongi's right," you said, voice low but resolute. "Namjoon and I will combine our magick to unleash our full potential. It's the only way."

Namjoon nodded, his stern lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. "Then let's show Wooshik what happens when he tries to disrupt the balance of our world."

As one, you turned and strode from the room, robes swirling around you, ready to face the coming storm.

🪄🪄🪄

The battle raged around you, a maelstrom of clashing magic and flying debris. Wooshik's acolytes swarmed like angry hornets, their dark spells sizzling through the charged air. But you and Namjoon moved as one, his broad frame shielding you as you wove your magic together, fire and ice, light and shadow.

You unleashed a devastating wave of power with a synchronized shout, sending Wooshik's minions flying. The enemy warlock stood at the center of the chaos, an oily sneer twisting his gaunt face as he gripped the ancient relic.

"Fools!" Wooshik cackled, his robes whipping in the unnatural wind. "You cannot stop me! The old ways will fall, and I shall reign supreme!"

Gritting your teeth, you reached deep within yourself, feeling your power and Namjoon's flooding through your veins, vibrant and all-consuming. Tendrils of your combined magick snaked out, seeking the relic. You could feel its ancient thrum, the weight of millennia pulsing in your mind.

Namjoon's hand found yours, fingers lacing together as your auras merged and intensified. As one, you breathed in, tapping into the infinite well of your imprinted souls.

"By the blood of our covens," Namjoon intoned, his voice ringing with command. "By the power of our bond, we banish you!"

A searing beam of blinding white light erupted from your joined hands, spearing through the tumult. Wooshik's eyes widened in disbelief a split second before the purging magick engulfed him.

The relic clattered to the stone floor as Wooshik's form disintegrated, his ashes scattering on the fading winds. Silence fell, broken only by your ragged breathing. You squeezed Namjoon's hand, almost dizzy with relief and exhilaration.

As the dust settled and the last remnants of Wooshik's power dissipated, you and Namjoon stood in the center of the chamber, panting and slightly dazed. The intense bond that had formed between you during your battle with the rogue witch still thrummed within your veins, connecting you in an exhilarating and terrifying way.

Momo and Yoongi emerged from the shadows, their expressions a mix of awe and relief. "You did it," Momo breathed, her eyes sparkling with pride. "You saved us all."

Yoongi nodded solemnly, his gaze flickering between you and Namjoon. "And it seems like you two have formed quite an unbreakable connection," he added with a slight smirk.

You blushed, feeling Namjoon's hand tighten around yours as he pulled you closer to his side. Together, you faced your friends and allies, ready to embrace whatever challenges lay ahead.

But first, there was something else that needed to be addressed.

"We must destroy this relic," Namjoon said firmly as he reached down to pick up the ancient object that had caused so much chaos and destruction.

Momo's brow furrowed as she stepped forward. "But why? It could be used for good now that Wooshik no longer possesses it."

"You don't understand," Namjoon replied gravely. "This relic is far too powerful for anyone to control. Wooshik's dark magic has tainted it and must be destroyed before it again falls into the wrong hands."

With a nod of understanding, Momo stepped back as Yoongi conjured a flame in his palm. Gently placing his hand on top of the relic, he watched solemnly as it crumbled into ash under his touch.

The air around you seemed to lighten as if a heavy burden had been lifted from your shoulders. You couldn't help but feel a sense of victory and relief.

As the ashes of the destroyed relic scattered on the cool breeze, you felt a profound sense of peace settle over you. It was as if the very fabric of the world had exhaled, released from the suffocating grip of Wooshik's dark ambitions.

Namjoon's hand remained firmly entwined with yours, his touch both grounding and electrifying. In the aftermath of the battle, the true depth of your bond was undeniable - a connection forged in the crucible of shared purpose and sacrifice.

Momo broke the contemplative silence with a whoop of joy, throwing her arms around Yoongi in an exuberant hug. "We did it! We actually did it!" Her laughter was infectious, dispelling the lingering shadows.

Even Yoongi cracked a rare grin, patting Momo's back as he met your gaze over her shoulder. "Looks like the magical realm owes you two a debt of gratitude. Your bond... it's going to change everything."

You glanced up at Namjoon, a shiver racing through you at the intensity in his dragon eyes. There was no going back now, no pretending that what had blossomed between you was anything less than fate-altering.

"We should get back to the covens," Namjoon said, his deep voice rumbling through you. "Share the news of our victory and..." He hesitated, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "...and figure out what comes next for us."

Us. The word hung in the air, heavy with promise and uncertainty. You knew in your bones that your path was now inextricably linked with Namjoon's, but navigating this uncharted territory would be its own kind of journey.

With a resolute nod, you followed your friends out of the chamber, stepping into the light of a new day. The world had shifted on its axis, but with Namjoon by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever challenges and wonders the future held.

🪄🪄🪄

The return to the covens was a whirlwind of celebration and change. News of Wooshik's defeat spread like wildfire, and suddenly, you and Namjoon were hailed as the saviors of the magical realm. Witches and warlocks who had once viewed your bond with suspicion now looked upon you with awe and reverence.

Amidst the chaos, stolen moments with Namjoon became your anchor. A brush of hands as you passed in the hall, a heated glance across a crowded room, whispered words in shadowed alcoves - each interaction only served to deepen the simmering tension between you.

Late one night, you found yourself wandering the quiet streets of the town, lost in thought. The moon hung heavy and full above you, casting everything in an otherworldly glow.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Namjoon's voice came from behind you, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, heart already racing at the sight of his tall, imposing figure.

"Too much on my mind," you replied softly, gaze locking with his. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the force of your bond almost tangible in the moonlight.

Namjoon closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands cradling your face. "I know exactly what you mean," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips.

And then he was kissing you, deep and desperate, as if he could pour every ounce of longing into the press of his mouth against yours. You melted into him, fingers tangling in the silky strands of his hair, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste and feel of him.

When you finally broke apart, chests heaving, Namjoon rested his forehead against yours. "I don't want to fight this anymore," he confessed, voice raw with emotion. "What we have... it's once in a lifetime. Fated."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes. "I feel it, too. This connection is like nothing I've ever known. Terrifying and exhilarating all at once."

Namjoon brushed a thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away an errant tear. "Then let's embrace it fully and without fear. Together, we can face anything."

As he pulled you into another searing kiss, the future stretched out before you, ripe with possibility. Your bond had already reshaped the world once - there was no telling what wonders it would bring next. But with Namjoon by your side, you were ready for anything.

🪄🪄🪄

The magical realm slowly began to heal in the wake of Wooshik's defeat. Under the guidance of you and Namjoon, the once divided covens learned to work together, pooling knowledge and resources for the betterment of all.

Your love story became something of a legend, whispered around campfires and written in the margins of ancient tomes. The tale of two former rivals, bound by a connection that transcended the very fabric of magic itself - was an inspiration to a world still finding its way in the aftermath of darkness.

As the seasons turned and life settled into a new rhythm, you found yourself walking hand in hand with Namjoon through the bustling streets of the capitol. Vendors hawked their wares, and children darted between the stalls, their laughter ringing like bells. The air hummed with a sense of renewed vitality and hope.

Namjoon's fingers tightened around yours as he pulled you to a stop in front of a quaint, unassuming shop. "I have something for you," he said, a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Curiosity piqued, and you followed him inside, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The space was cluttered with all manner of magical oddities - glimmering crystal orbs, dusty tomes bound in cracked leather, and bundles of herbs that filled the air with a pungent, earthy scent. Namjoon led you through the maze of shelves, his broad shoulders brushing against the precariously stacked items.

At the very back of the shop, he stopped in front of a small, ornate chest. With a whispered word and a flash of magick, the lock clicked open, revealing a pair of intricately carved bracelets nestled on a bed of rich blue velvet.

"These were crafted by the first witches to form a soul bond," Namjoon explained, lifting one of the bracelets from the chest. The metal seemed to pulse with an inner light, ancient runes etched along its surface. "Legend says they amplify the connection between bonded pairs, allowing them to draw on each other's strength in times of need."

He took your hand, thumb brushing over your racing pulse before slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. It settled against your skin with a pleasant warmth, the runes glowing softly as they attuned to your energy.

Namjoon donned the matching bracelet, and a shiver ran through you as you felt your bond with him deepen and expand. It was as if a hidden door had been thrown open, flooding you with the full force of his emotions—love, desire, and devotion, all swirling together in a heady rush.

"I wanted you to have a tangible reminder of what we share," Namjoon murmured, drawing you into his arms. "No matter what challenges we face, we'll always have each other."

Blinking back tears, you surged up on your toes to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The bracelets hummed with power as your magicks intertwined, a physical manifestation of the unbreakable bond you had forged.

As you lost yourself in Namjoon's embrace, the rest of the world faded away. Here, in this moment, nothing else mattered but the love that burned between you - a love that had reshaped the very fabric of the magickal realm.

🪄🪄🪄

Years passed, and the legend of your bond with Namjoon only grew. Young witches looked to your story for inspiration, a shining example of the power of unity and love in the face of darkness.

You stood side by side with Namjoon, watching as a new generation of magick users trained in the grand halls of your shared coven. Pride swelled in your chest as you saw them work together seamlessly, the old rivalries and divisions nothing more than a distant memory.

Namjoon's hand found yours, fingers lacing together with the ease of long practice. The bracelets that symbolized your soul bond glinted in the sunlight streaming through the high windows, a constant reminder of the unbreakable connection you shared.

"Look at what we've built," Namjoon murmured, his voice rich with emotion. "A world united by love and magick. I never could have imagined this when we first met all those years ago."

You leaned into his side, resting your head against his broad shoulder. "We've come so far," you agreed softly. "And to think, it all started with a rivalry and a forbidden attraction."

Namjoon chuckled, the sound rumbling through you like distant thunder. "Fate works in mysterious ways. Who would have thought the key to saving the magickal realm was a bond between two stubborn, headstrong witches?"

"Momo always said our bickering was just unresolved sexual tension," you teased, grinning up at him.

He arched a brow, eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, she wasn't entirely wrong, now was she?" His free hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I seem to recall a certain tryst in the forest that changed everything..."

Heat bloomed under your skin at the memory, desire coiling low in your belly. Even after all this time, Namjoon's touch still set you alight, your soul bond only amplifying the intensity of your passion.

"Perhaps we should take a trip down memory lane," you suggested, voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Relive some of our more...memorable moments."

Namjoon's eyes darkened, his grip on your hand tightening. "I like the way you think, my love."

With a wicked grin, you tugged him away from the training grounds, your footsteps echoing through the ancient halls of your coven. The weight of your shared history hung in the air, a tapestry woven from threads of rivalry, forbidden desire, and world-altering love.

As you pulled Namjoon into your private chambers, the door closing behind you with a resounding thud, you knew that your story was far from over. Together, you would continue to shape the future of the magickal realm, your bond a guiding light for generations to come.

But for now, in the sanctuary of your room, there was only the two of you - two souls entwined by the hand of fate, lost in the fire of a love that would echo through the ages.

[sopekooks]

234/638 days of missing yoongi

[jimxnslight]

Chapter 4: The Evil Twin

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

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 5.5k

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

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter this time! Unfortunately I won't be able to post another chapter in a while because I have my exams currently, but I should be free by the end of the month! Until then I'll probably post more for The Crab Cult since I've already got a few chapters in the drafts lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

“Guess again, princess.”

Guess again…? What was that supposed to mean?

The man standing before you was clearly Jimin. But how had he managed to dye his dirty blonde hair into a rich purple in a matter of minutes? How had he managed to change his bright blue eyes into a menacing dark red? Did he magic himself to change his appearance? But why would he even do that in the first place?

Questions upon questions started to pile into your mind, only adding to your confusion, until a single memory bulldozed the pile to the ground. 

‘Wait! You have to tell me,’ Jungkook had gasped, ‘is it true you have an evil twin? I’ve heard so many rumours about it. And I swear I saw this guy that looked just like you in class earlier!’

Jungkook’s words, which had been disregarded as silly rumours at the time, suddenly came to mind as the realisation dawned on you. 

Perhaps his words weren’t as silly as you thought. 

Your gaze raised to the man standing before you, studying him before you spoke slowly.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Jimin’s evil twin, would you?”

The man paused, his eyes just barely widening for a moment before he laughed. It was a chilling sound, scattering goosebumps all over your arms as it bounced against the walls of the dim, empty hall. While Taehyung’s gaze had felt icy and unwelcoming, this man’s laugh felt like a deadly warning. 

“Evil twin?” He repeated once the laugh had tapered off, tone now laced with apathetic amusement, “no one has ever said that to my face before.”

He studied your form for a moment, gaze travelling from your uniform to the wand in your hand to your features before finally raising to meet yours once again. 

“Judging from your lack of trembling, you’re either wildly ignorant…”

The evidently fake amusement suddenly vanished from his face as he took a step forward, leaving just a breath’s worth of space to lay between you both. You could feel the edge of your uniform brush against his own as you felt your chest rise in irritation. 

“Or you’re extremely dumb,” he finished, his voice low and simmering alongside his unwavering eyes. 

His desire to intimidate you was as clear as day. 

But you would not be so easily intimidated, so instead you met his gaze confidently as you forced your expression to remain unfazed. Who did he think he was to send you a hidden threat? Principal’s son be damned, he would learn what happens when you’re pushed to your limit. 

You brought your hand to his clothed chest before giving him a forceful shove, hoping to create some distance between the two of you. He didn’t move as much as you would have liked, barely half a step at the most. 

“I’m neither, so I suggest you stop throwing words like that around so carelessly. Do you even know who I am?”

You regretted the words the second they had left your lips, cringing as you realised how they might have sounded. They implied that you were like every other elitist here, hiding behind your parents’ money and power. But that had not been what you meant.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s brother didn’t seem to realise that. 

He gasped dramatically, bringing his hands to his mouth as his voice dripped in sarcastic fear, “oh my, you’re right! I should know my place shouldn’t I?”

That earned him a roll of your eyes.

“Tell me, which mommy and daddy will put me behind bars if I speak to their princess badly, hm?”

“I’m not talking about my parents,” you snapped, irritated by his condescending tone, “it’s me you should be worried about.”

A scoff sounded at the back of his throat, as if you had said something unbelievable. You hated how annoyed that made you, so much so that you were ready to end this conversation and head to your room.

“Whatever,” you said, gaze momentarily taking in the bright moon standing proudly outside the hall’s window, “what are you doing here in the dead of night?”

Jimin’s twin crossed his arms over his chest as he raised a challenging brow, “and how is that any of your business?”

“It’s my school,” you deadpanned, “if you’re about to blow it to bits, I’d like to at least be aware that a celebration is in order. Now care to explain?”

The ends of lips twitched, “you know I could ask you the same. What are you doing here all by yourself, at a time like this?”

“Do you always answer questions with another question?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

The both of you stared each other down, yours a seething glare while his was filled with cocky amusement. You seemed to have met your match when it came to stubbornness, and you had to admit you were far from amused. 

“Is this a twin thing?” You spoke sharply, “you’re a complete jerk while your brother is just slightly more tolerable?”

You noticed his amusement vanish at your words, leaving behind a hard expression that tore through your gaze. You got the feeling that he was thrown off by something you had said. 

“... slightly more tolerable?” He repeated slowly, eyes calculatingly sharp all of a sudden, “ that’s not usually how people describe my dear old brother.”

“I called you a jerk too, which last time I checked was much worse,” you remarked, not understanding his suddenly excessive interest. 

“Did you hurt Seokjin?” 

The randomness of the question had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out a stupid, “what?”

You didn’t understand the connection between calling him a jerk, calling Jimin tolerable, and hurting Seokjin. Whatever was going on in the mind of the man before you, you couldn’t possibly tell. 

“Jimin is only rude to people that hurt Seokjin,” Jimin’s brother explained, still harbouring a lethal gaze, “if you hurt Jin, and Jimin was rude to you, it would explain why you’re not a fan of him.”

“What does that ev-”

“I asked a question,” he said sharply while cutting you off, “one I’m expecting an answer to.”

Despite the fact that he had interrupted you and his tone had become threatening again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. All you could do was stare at him with a confused expression, wondering where this conversation had gone. 

“No,” you answered finally, “I didn’t hurt Seokjin. I hate your brother because he’s annoying. That’s all.”

“I see,” he said, lost in thought for a moment before the amusement sunk back into his features. This dude was going to give you whiplash at this point, “in that case, you seem to have caught my attention, princess.”

“Am I supposed to be honoured?” You scoffed, “I could care less what you think of me.”

“I’ve already wasted more than enough time with you here anyway. Blow up the school, don’t blow up the school, I don’t care. Just stay away from me.”

You turned around and started walking away, but not before adding for good measure, “or you’ll regret it.”

Jimin’s brother watched you walk away curiously, a thought lingering at the back of his mind. You had just pushed against one of the heavy doors when he turned and crouched in front of the Tree of Life. 

A soft bang, reverberated around the hall, causing you to pause in your escape and face him once again. You were met with the view of Jimin’s brother bent over the floor. 

Except, the floor was no longer the pristinely smooth marble tiles organised throughout the area. Instead, a large tile had been pushed upwards, almost like a trap door. You moved closer, peering deeper to find a set of stairs travelling downward, directly under the Tree of Life.

Your gaze flitted to Jimin’s brother, who was staring into the deep abyss thoughtfully.  

“They say this trap door leads to an ancient and long since abandoned lab that used to belong to Park Bogum, the creator of Elitist Academy,” he said, “you must know about the rumours surrounding him…”

“Regarding his affiliations with Counterbalance.”

You paused, cautiously taking in his words.

Most people lazily referred to Counterbalance as dark or black magic, but that was an overly simplified term to describe a thing that was much more complex. While Life magic was the magic that essentially sustained the world, Counterbalance was the magic that countered it to keep it in check. Sure, that inherently didn’t make Counterbalance evil in itself, but the magic had been associated with so many horrible things that have happened in the past that some have made the association anyway. 

“How do you know that? Why do you know that?” You asked.

“Why?” He countered, pushing himself off the ground to face you, “are you scared?”

“It’s dark magic. If you’re not scared, you’re just stupid.”

Jimin’s brother gave you a devilish grin, one that you found both irritating and unnerving at the same time, before he stepped towards you. The two of you were close once again.  

“Wanna come with me?” 

You gave him an incredulous look, “did you not hear what I just said? There’s a reason why attempting to manipulate Counterbalance is forbidden.”

“Yes, the reason being cowardice,” Jimin’s brother said with a scowl, “dark magic is simply a different type of magic we’re not yet familiar with. If we keep hiding from it, we’ll always cower in its shadow.”

“So tell me, are you coming or not?”

He was crazy. It was the only explanation you could come up with to explain why he seemed so interested in potentially entering a Counterbalance lab. And as much as you pitied the insane, you were not going to let them lead you by example.

“Forget it,” you said immediately, stepping away from him, “if we get caught, we could actually get expelled.”

And then I’ll have to go back there.

“Do whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

You turned around and stormed towards the door to the residences but, just like last time, you only managed to push the giant door open before you paused. 

Technically speaking, you’ve only ever read about Counterbalance magic very briefly in a few textbooks here and there, while your tutors would barely even mention the topic if at all. Yet, here Jimin’s brother was, giving you a first-hand opportunity to look at an entire dark magic lab?

This was a once in a lifetime experience.

You hated just how curious these things could make you sometimes, especially knowing the horrors that have been caused by misusing Counterbalance. The stuff shouldn’t be messed with, history had taught that lesson enough times. 

But… one little look couldn’t hurt, could it?

It’s not like you were actually going to try to manipulate dark magic, you knew that would be crossing an unspeakable limit. But what harm could just looking around to satisfy your curiosity do?

Very slowly, you detached yourself from the double-doors and walked back to the Tree of Life, trying your absolute best to ignore the smirk Jimin’s brother had on his face as he eyed you. 

“Changed your mind?” He asked innocently, failing miserably at hiding his smug expression.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” he said, turning towards the trapdoor.

“Let’s get going.”

-

-

-

It was clear the walls making up the passageway were the roots of the Tree of Life. You could feel the familiar rough texture of its bark as you descended the spiralling staircase behind Jimin’s brother cautiously, ready to bolt if he tried anything. You obviously didn’t trust him fully, unsure of the exact reason why he had invited you along. But you didn’t bother asking knowing that he probably wouldn’t have given you an actual answer anyway. 

Instead you continued to feel your way down the pitch black space, focusing on not tripping, though the thought of Jimin’s brother falling because of you put a satisfied smile on your face. 

A few minutes later the passageway opened up into a large cavern, the walls still clearly made of bark. But the bark was different, with a dark brownish, blackish colour that made it seem like it was rotting. 

To your left, carved into the wall of bark, was an array of bookshelves holding a number of leatherbound and worn books, while to your right stood a long table full of various lab equipment and trinkets. You scanned a wooden test tube rack holding four vials filled halfway with a glowing turquoise substance and a tray filled with a number of oddly coloured and shaped stones. A large textbook was sprawled next to it, open to a page depicting a number of trees followed by blocks of text. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. 

Next to the table was a large cauldron, filled to the brim with the same glowing turquoise liquid in the vials, bubbling atop a flame. Brows furrowed, you brought your hand over the raging orange and maroon fire, confirming your suspicion: the flame had been magicked to only heat the cauldron. With everything being wood in the room, it was a wise choice. The sides of the cauldron were dusty as well. 

Your gaze shifted back to Jimin’s brother, who was scanning the room just as curiously as you had been. His eyes missed nothing as they jumped from one small detail to the next. 

“Well?” You said. 

“Well what?”

“What do you mean well what? Didn’t you come down here for a reason?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “that’s none of your business.”

You watched him turn away to pick up one of the books on the long table. He was the one that had brought you down here for who knows what reason, what was the point of being so secretive? You were going to see whatever he was down here for anyway. 

Jimin’s brother set the book down, moving onto the vials in the test tube rack. He gently picked one up with his hand, and it was only then when you realised that they were gloved. Brown cloth gloves with golden rims encased both his hands while reaching a little above his wrists, a marked difference in uniform compared to the rest of the student body. Was he a germaphobe or something?

He turned to the rest of the things scattered around the table, shuffling through them. It didn’t take a detective to know that he was clearly looking for something. 

But then again, what did it matter to you? You weren’t here to help him, so you turned around and went back to inspecting the other side of the room. Whoever had been studying in this lab seemed to have a special affinity for plants. There were plant specimens everywhere. Samples of different types of tree bark were hung on the wall in a frame with writing giving the descriptions of the trees they had come from, while another table separated by a movable partition held a number of different plant roots that had been dissected like a cadaver. You’d never been very interested in botany, so the evident obsession with plants had kind of dampened your interest in the place. 

Once you had finished searching the area, finding nothing but more and more botanic experiments, you turned to Jimin’s brother in disappointment. 

“I’m not seeing anything dark magic related,” you said crossing your arms, wondering if he had just brought you down here as some kind of prank. It seemed unlikely, but you still couldn’t help but wonder. 

Jimin’s brother sighed frustratedly as he set a piece of black tree bark down, “I know.”

His tone told you that he probably had not been expecting this either. Clearly he hadn’t found what he was looking for. 

“You sound disappointed,” you noted. 

He didn’t answer as his gaze stayed fixed on the table, waves of frustration clearly radiating off of him. You weren’t particularly curious about what specifically it was that he had failed to find, but there was still one question that you were curious to have answered. 

“So, since whatever your plan was clearly just failed, mind sharing why exactly you asked me to come down here with you?”

Jimin’s brother just stared at you, lips forming an unamused line. 

“I’m not stupid,” you pressed further, “you wouldn’t have brought me here if not for a reason. So just let it out, what did you want from me?”

A slight smirk twitched against his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest, “and they say I have trust issues…”

“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” You said incredulously, finding his growing grin wildly irritating, “fine, I guess I’ll just start guessing then.”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think it through.

“Ah, I know. You’re going to use me to fulfil your plan of becoming the most powerful magic user in the world with the help of Counterbalance,” then you added, “oh right! And also to kill your twin because you’re the neglected brother that never got as much love and attention as him. How close am I?”

Jimin’s brother could only try to stifle his amusement. 

“You’ve watched one too many fantasy movies, princess.”

“And what would I accomplish by murdering my brother?” He said while tilting his head, then he added sarcastically, “although, I have heard arms and legs sell for very high these days. How much do you think-”

The quip died on his tongue as the sound of a door opening suddenly reverberated around the room, freezing the two of you in place. Your gaze snapped to where the sound had come from, but you were just met with the wall of the cavern. 

“Wha-” You were about to ask, but Jimin’s brother grabbed your arm with a gloved hand and quickly dragged you behind the partition you had noticed from earlier. The two of you leaned against it, the most hidden you could be in this room. 

You peeked over his shoulder, still confused as to why noises were arising in the room when there was no one there, until the wall shimmered and distorted slightly to reveal a person walking through it. 

Your eyes widened in recognition. 

Ms. Kari?!

Ms. Kari, with her dirty blonde hair and wired glasses walked through the almost rotting black bark walls of the cavern like it was nothing, chatting intently with someone on the phone as she failed to notice the two of you. 

But didn’t Jimin’s twin say this place was abandoned decades ago? What was Ms. Kari doing in a Counterbalance lab?

You glance at Jimin’s brother for a moment, and it was clear that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Yes, yes, I’ve planned out the tasks,” Ms. Kari spoke into the black cellphone, “do you really believe me to be an incompetent teacher?”

You watched her walk deeper into the room, but, the more she did, the more Jimin’s brother had to step backwards to avoid being seen. That forced you to take a step back with him. 

“I’ll have them complete by tonight,” she went on, continuing to walk deeper into the room, “don’t worry, they’ll cover everything we need.”

Jimin’s brother took another step backwards, but there was nowhere for you to accommodate him. He had backed you into a wall, causing you to feel rough, black bark against your back while his clothed back was pressing against your chest. You stood caged between him and the cavern wall, simmering in anger at the unexpected position. If you didn’t like having to listen to men, then being touched by one was something you loathed to your core. 

But by then, thankfully, Ms. Kari had stopped walking further into the room, instead pausing in front of the large bookshelf. 

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodbye sir,” she said, before evidently hanging up.

After putting the phone away, she turned to the bookshelf, studying it intently.

“Hmmm, now where did I put it…?” She muttered.

You squirmed as Ms. Kari began searching through the bookshelves, clearly uncomfortable in your current position.

“Is it this one…?” She continued to mutter, picking up an old, brown textbook, “no… I need the whole layout, not just a section.”

Jimin’s brother frowned as he felt you moving behind him, wondering why you couldn’t just stay in one place. The more you moved, the more dangerous it was going to be for you. He blew out a quiet breath, itching to tell you to stop but unable to as Ms. Kari took a step closer to the partition.

You, on the other hand, had to force yourself not to shove him off of you. He had taken another step backwards as Ms. Kari took another oblivious step towards the partition, despite there being no space to do so. That left you even more squished against him.

It was driving you insane. 

You refused to be in this position anymore. You had to get him off of you. 

Jimin’s brother turned his head slightly, wondering if he could quietly step to the side a bit so you’d stop touching him. 

But then he flinched as he felt your hands brush against his back. 

You scowled as you felt him move against you once again. 

Okay, that’s it, you both thought furiously. 

“Stop touching me!” The two of you blew up at each other.

You froze, panic seeping into your mind as you realised just how screwed the two of you were now. Jimin’s brother was no different. His jaw hung open in shock before his head snapped to where Ms. Kari was. 

“What on Earth-?” She muttered, turning around. 

But before her gaze could land on either of you, Jimin’s brother instantly turned towards the partition and gave it a strong shove. You watched in horror as the solid partition toppled over, falling midair for not more than a second before it collapsed…

on Ms. Kari.

“Did you just push a whole partition on top of a professor?!” You whisper-yelled incredulously, your mouth hanging wide open in shock. 

But Jimin’s brother simply turned to you after making sure Ms. Kari was down and hadn’t seen the two of you, “quite whining, we need to get out of here before she sees us.”

His gloved hand grabbed your wrist before dragging you alongside him as he ran up the stairs. 

The two of you didn’t stop running until you had entered the residences, panting like crazy when he finally let your arm go. You and Jimin’s brother’s breaths filled the hallway for what felt like forever as you both desperately attempted to catch your breaths.

But once Jimin’s twin seemed to have achieved as much, he whirled to you in anger. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked, rage laced in his tone and expression. 

“Me?!” You said, indignant, “what did I do?”

“What did you do?! Next time you want to run your hands all over me, maybe try therapy instead?!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy that had his entire body pressed against mine. You couldn’t have moved a little?! Clearly personal space is a subject needed for your next therapy session!”

Jimin’s brother scoffed, “that’s what I was trying to do, but guess who’s hands made it impossible?”

“Maybe next time I will let you touch me,” he snapped, “then we’ll see just how much you enjoy what happens to you, princess.”

You immediately grimaced, his words feeling like a swarm of spiders crawling up and down your body. There it was. There was one of those disgusting sexual comments that men seemed to love to throw around carelessly.

“You’re disgusting,” you said, putting as much of your repulsion as you could in your words before scoffing, “and I’m leaving.”

You stormed into an elevator, immediately slamming your fingers against the button to your room's floor before repeatedly pressing against the button that would close the elevator doors. You wanted him nowhere near you. 

Jimin’s twin, on the other hand, stood for a moment, his expression a perfect picture of confusion as he stared at the now closed elevator doors. 

Disgusting…? He thought, wondering why you had seemed so repulsed by the comment. It took him a second more to come to the realisation, his lips pressing into a straight line as he did.

She must not know.

His gaze dropped to the floor, the dim hallway reflecting his mood suddenly. 

She must not know just how horrible my touch really is.

-

-

-

You flung the door of your dorm open, letting it slam shut behind you.

You couldn’t believe that bastard. Sure, this school was full of disgusting men like him that said stuff like that all the time, but still. How dare he talk to you that way?

You could feel the rage slither down your arms, making your hands shake. That kind of degradation always seemed to unlock a different kind of anger in you. One where you didn’t know whether you wanted to go back down there and make him beg for your forgiveness or go into a shower and aggressively scrub his words off your skin till it’s bright red and raw to the touch. 

You should’ve made him pay for a comment like that when you were down there. But you were also very much aware that you needed to leave in case Ms. Kari was searching the halls for the two of you. 

“Y/N!” A voice behind you suddenly called. You turned to find Jimin walking into the living room, a bright smile on his face.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I came back and you weren’t here… I was about to call the principal.”

For a moment, all you could do was just stand and stare at his face. You knew they were twins, but… him and his brother looked exactly identical. If Jimin were to dye his hair and wear contacts, you wouldn’t doubt for a second that it was his brother standing before you. 

What an unnerving thought.

“Why does it matter?” You finally asked, tearing yourself away from searching for some kind of non eye- or hair-related feature that could distinguish them apart. You were mildly aware that your anger from earlier was unintentionally seeping into your tone, “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. You don’t own me.”

But Jimin just smiled, “of course, we’re all adults here. I just meant that I was worried, that’s all.”

His smiles and concerns only seemed to add to the frustration that was building up in your chest. On one hand you had a twin telling you innuendos while on the other hand you had one giving you fake worry. You were tired of it. Tired of this entire day altogether. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announced, your tone suddenly soft from your exhaustion- both physically and mentally. 

You made your way to your bedroom door and paused for a moment, facing Jimin who was still standing in the living room, “and don’t bother getting worried every time I come back a little late. I can handle myself, as I’m sure Namjoon told you.”

Finally, you turned around and walked into your room, but not before Jimin called from behind you.

“You’re my roommate, of course I’m going to worry about you!”

-

-

-

“You can’t be serious!”

You stared at Principal Park with a scowl, wishing your glare could burn right through him, but he ignored it easily, choosing instead to sit composedly at his desk as he gave you a calm and collected expression. 

“I apologise Y/N, but even if I wished to I could not,” he explained slowly, as if you were some kind of wild animal that needed to be tamed. It made you want to wipe that calm expression off his meticulously kept face. 

“All I’m asking for is to be put into a different cohort, any other cohort. I can’t be in classes full of men, it’s… not… healthy for a young woman like me,” you said, words laced with a hint of desperation, “if anyone can do it, it’s you. That’s why I’m here.”

“Y/N,” he said, tilting his head in sympathy, “you of all people should know how important it is that you are educated suitably. Your classmates and yourself must learn differently compared to the rest of the students in this school. The success of our future depends on it.”

You stared at him helplessly, a mixture of rage and hopelessness churning uncomfortably in your stomach. 

“I understand that you wish to be in a cohort with individuals more similar to yourself, but in a way your current classmates are similar to you as well, don’t you think? You will be leading the future generations together after all. Perhaps this experience will prepare you for the relationships you will have with them once you take on your roles.”

“And besides,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already gotten the message loud and clear, “just because you are being placed into different cohorts, does not mean you are barred from befriending students in different cohorts. In fact, I encourage you to mingle with the other students of this academy.”

You watched Principal Park push himself into a standing position, giving you a bright smile that reminded you of Jimin’s, “now, I must attend a meeting at the moment. If you still wish to continue this conversation then we may schedule a meeting for another time, but I must reiterate that my answer will not change even then. Is that clear?”

Your jaw ticked as you chose to stay silent, knowing that saying what you really wanted to say to him would probably get you expelled. Instead, you levelled your tone before replying.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he nodded, “I hope you settle well here, your father and I are good friends. I genuinely do wish the best for you, Y/N.”

“Yes sir,” you forced out through gritted teeth. 

Once you were dismissed, you turned around and left his office, immediately entering into the main hall with your arms crossed over your chest. You didn’t know if it was his head you wanted to bash into the wall or your own. That would still be less painful than the years of suffering you were about to spend in this academy. 

You uncrossed your arms with a defeated sigh, choosing instead to shift your focus on the empty hall in front of you. It was too early for students to be wandering the area at this hour. Most were still in the dining hall eating breakfast and conversing with friends. Your conversation with Principal Park had effectively wiped your appetite, and you didn’t have any friends that you could hang out with anyway, so you let yourself enjoy the view of the Tree of Life instead. 

There was something calming about looking at the Tree. You didn’t know whether it was an effect of the Life magic coursing through its branches or just the beauty of it in general. The sunlight flitted through the stained glass ceiling to fall on its soft petals, making them glow light colours of blues and pinks. Even its trunk was a proud chestnut, a stark contrast from all the dark mahogany scattered around the walls and ceiling of the hall. 

You gravitated towards the towering structure in awe, choosing to settle onto the stone barrier encompassing its base. They’d made the barrier just perfect for students to sit on and relax, and you couldn’t help but feel that this was a better spot for relaxation than any library or dining hall in the academy. 

But your reverie was interrupted when the double doors of the main hall suddenly burst open. Your gaze snapped to the doors to your left, watching them shake as the doors slammed against the wall behind them. From here you could see the dining hall containing a bunch of students all gasping and speaking frenziedly with each other in hushed tones. 

The reason the doors had opened seemed to be a male student, who was stumbling into the main hall after shoving through the double doors weakly. You scanned him in surprise as he continued to stumble further into the hall until he tripped on his own feet and collapsed to his knees. 

He looked like he had been beaten pretty badly as a bruise encompassed the right side of his jaw and a painful groan escaped his lips. You tried to figure out who he was, but you couldn’t seem to make out the entirety of his face.

You stood up abruptly, eyes widening at the scene before you in confusion.

What was going on?

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