taevbears

[taevbears]

250701 - bts' live thumbnail on weverse

[taevbears]

MAGIC SHOP 😍 I'm so reading it before bed. I'm so excited, thank you. (I receive notif from AO3)

Woo!! I promise not to wait a whole year to update the next part lol 😭😭 Happy reading!

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 14

When the path ignites a soul, there's no remaining in place. The foot touches ground, but not for long.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, OT7 + Jimin focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, found family, domestic/slice of life, action/adventure ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 8.7k ⤑ warnings: character deaths, implied murder, slight angst. ⤑ note: it's literally been a year since i last updated this story lmao. where has the time gone? i did start writing like, half of this chapter for the jimin-focused one, but i also wanted something inbetween his story and Namjoon's. thus, this bonus chapter is here!

Chapters: Series Masterlist | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

On a road less-travelled – a narrow path of tangled roots and thick undergrowth – you have a sinking feeling that you’re lost. Somehow, you’ve strayed too far from the others and have gotten yourself turned around.

Black, barren trees surround you. Indistinctive rocks and thick ferns all start to look the same. Your feet are sore and your clothes are tattered and ruined as you endlessly navigate around thorny brambles and over fallen branches. Time seems to stretch unnaturally as a quiet but heavy panic starts to rise in your chest.

Then, within the dense and eerily quiet forest, you hear it.

Their voices. Their laughter. Your seven glimmers of hope.

Without hesitation, you follow the sounds. You no longer care about the ache in your steps or how worn you are. You just want to go home. You just want to be with them.

You’re led to a clearing in the middle of the dense and dark woods. A long table is set up with eight chairs. Silver plates, black candle holders, and golden utensils are evenly spread over the white cloth. The skies look straight out of a painting. Vibrant with bright hues of pinks, oranges, and gold in an everlasting twilight, heavily contrasting against the black and barren trees and shadows that surround you.

“You’re here!” Hoseok exclaims when he sees you. His whole face lights up with his smile as he places a hand on the small of your back and leads you toward the end of the table. “We’ve been waiting for you, pretty girl.”

Next to you, Jungkook smiles fondly. “You look like a princess.”

When you glance down at your torn clothes, your attire is completely different. A beautiful, vintage dress, adorn with white lace and ruffles. The charm necklace that you always wear is replaced with a black laced choker. And your hair is styled prettily, as if you hadn’t just been wandering around in the forest for hours.

The boys are all gathered at the table, dressed in white tops and black trousers. Seokjin is at the other end of the table, across from you. Next to him is Taehyung and Jimin. In the center is Namjoon and Yoongi. And to your left and right is Hoseok and Jungkook.

“To us,” Seokjin begins, standing up from his chair and holding up his glass. The others follow suit, raising their glasses as well. There’s a pretty smile on Seokjin’s face as he looks at you. “To our pretty wife.”

Your eyes widen at his words.

This isn’t an ordinary banquet.

It’s a wedding banquet. Your wedding banquet.

But… something feels off.

The serving bowls and platters are empty. The candles are unlit. On some of the eight plates is a single, red apple – a fruit of temptation. And in all the cordial-shaped glasses is a mysterious liquid.

Glasses clink together, followed by loud, celebratory cheers. You push your anxieties away and smile.

This is good. This is what you wanted. You should be happy.

You touch your glass, intending to join in.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The dress is too heavy. The bodice around you is constricted too tightly. The choker around your neck makes it hard to breathe.

You can’t move. You can’t lift your arm.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, trying to get his attention. With effort, you reach for his hand.

Hoseok doesn’t notice. Carelessly, he laughs and brings the glass to his lips, drinking the liquid. Your hand tightens around his, trying to stop him.

But it’s too late.

Shortly after, everything goes wrong.

Time stretches unnaturally as a deep, quiet panic weighs in your chest. Hoseok slumps back on his seat, choking before his eyes roll to the back of his head. To your left, you hear Namjoon coughing out blood. Plates rattle and crash on the ground when Seokjin grabs the tablecloth as he faints. You hear one of the boys faintly whispering for you not to drink before everything is silent.

Tears stream from your eyes as you dare not move. You dare not look at what’s become of the others as you stare at Hoseok’s limp form.

Then, you hear someone chuckle.

One of them casually gets up from his seat and walks up to you when he realizes you’re having trouble with your drink. You’re still sobbing uncontrollably as he places his hand on the back of your neck.

“How could you do this?” you manage to ask, full of hurt and betrayal.

You don’t hear his answer. Instead, you catch a glimpse of his smile as he presses the cup of green poison to your lips and forces you to drink.

You wake in cold sweat and tears.

Another nightmare, you realize. But this one felt too real.

Namjoon is snoring beside you. He doesn’t have his shirt on, even when you’re all camping in the middle of the woods. But your eyes linger on the cloth bandages wrapped around his torso, and the healing injuries that you caused under the Hawthorn necromancer’s influence.

Jungkook is next to him, sleeping just as soundly. He’s sprawled out like a kid with one of his legs thrown over Namjoon. On your other side, Taehyung manages to sleep through all the noise. He’s curled up against Yoongi, and you’re certain your familiar protested against it before finally giving up and falling asleep in Taehyung’s arms.

Your gaze lingers on each of them as they blissfully dream around you. The anxiety and uneasiness from your nightmare dims as you see – with your own eyes – that they’re all okay. They’re all safe.

Just outside the tent, you hear Seokjin’s voice. Followed by Hoseok’s laughter.

Carefully, you pull away from the others and slip out of the tent. The nightly breeze hits your skin and causes you to shiver, but you’re equally greeted by the luring warmth of the campfire and two of your boys chatting with each other.

Seokjin is the first to notice you. His gaze shifts away from Hoseok’s face to yours, eyes still bright against the warm glow of the fire. You see his handsome face visibly soften and a small smile curve upon the corners of his plush lips, causing Hoseok to turn around mid-sentence to see what’s distracted him.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Hoseok stands as he greets you. His entire face lights up when you’re around. “Did we wake you?”

“No, I just—” you trail off. Fresh tears sting your eyes as you look at Hoseok and remember your terrible dream.

Hoesok’s smile fades when he notices. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He meets you halfway as you hug him tightly. Hoseok holds you in his arms, swaying you a bit as he murmurs comforting words to your hair. You close your eyes and take a moment to breathe him in, feel his warmth against you, and reassure yourself that he’s okay. That it’s only a bad dream.

“Come sit with us, beautiful,” Seokjin warmly suggests after a few minutes, patting the seat beside him. You finally let Hoseok go and accept the invitation. Hoseok places a hand on the small of your back and guides you to the spot between them.

Neither of them pry. Instead, they welcome you with a warm blanket and offer what they’re drinking. Their conversation picks up from where it was left off. Hoseok’s comforting touch never leaves you as he rubs your back and puts his arm over your shoulders. Seokjin brightens up your mood, slapping your thigh at something that made all three of you laugh, and resting his hand there.

It feels silly and childish to be shaken up by nightmares. Usually, you try not to concern the guys at all with your restless nights and plaguing thoughts. Not when the reality you wake up to is so good, and the ones you love are always around you.

But after a while, as a comfortable silence falls upon the three of you, you quietly admit, “I dreamt about losing all of you.”

You never talk about these dreams, not even with Yoongi. These nightmares often pick at your every insecurity – making you doubt your power, your competence as a mage, that you’re even deserving of such a warm and loving reality.

But this dream of death and betrayal is new.

Especially since you’ve almost lost Seokjin once at Blackstone Tower, and then almost lost Namjoon at Hawthorn Village by your own hands.

“You never have to worry about that,” Hoseok assures you, tightening his hold around you a bit. “All of us and Jimin are meant to find each other. We’re family.”

“We’ll stick together no matter what,” Seokjin adds, wiping a stray tear from your eyes. “We love you too much to want anything else.”

Every person’s map is different.

Some roads are scenic routes and shortcuts. Ideal to travel upon, cutting through the inconveniences. Sometimes, through the means of money, power, and fame. Ways paved for them, but built by the foundations of others.

Some roads are windy and confusing, with many ups and downs and twists and turns. At crossroads, one path can lead to that desirable, scenic shortcut. The other could lead straight to a deadend. Navigating through the difficult journey with blood, sweat, and tears to reach that happy goal.

Some roads are unpaved, new territory. Dangers of the unknown lie ahead. The strayed path can be a foolish venture to follow, risking failure and demise. Or, if lucky, it could lead to the most beautiful moment worthy of it all.

For Park Jimin, that luck bastard’s road to life is a clear, straight, flowery path to guaranteed success.

For generations, his family received many accolades for their skills in combating Wicked creatures and unworldly forces. They’ve built a prestigious reputation from the ground up for successfully tracking down and annihilating dangerous, rogue mages. Their influence even reached notoriety in the capital city, hailing them as hometown heroes of the Devoted.

Since he was a young boy, Jimin was raised under the mentorship of the best hunters in his family – his father and grandfather. He’s captured dozens of Wicked mages with impressive ease and efficiency. His future of carrying out his family’s legacy is bright and promising.

He has everything laid out before him to become a heroic hunter.

“I didn’t see you at the church on Sunday,” Daniel mentions when he visits the flower shop. He idly browses through the selections without the intention of buying anything.

“I had an early delivery that morning,” Jimin tells him. He wraps a simple bouquet of flowers for a waiting customer and hands it to them with a smile, exchanging it for silver coins.

“I haven’t seen you at the church in a while,” Daniel clarifies as soon as the customer leaves. The chime of the bell rings after their departure. It’s just the two of them now. His eyes are fixed on the florist, but Jimin’s face remains neutral. “I haven’t seen you at any of the meetings either.”

“I’ve been busy,” Jimin simply explains. Daniel, like Jimin, is also a mage hunter.

He’s also a childhood friend, and Daniel knows Jimin well enough to tell when he’s hiding something from him. Still, he merely chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief.

“You know, when you moved back to New Haven and took over your family’s shop, your grandfather personally asked me to keep an eye on you. Make sure that you’re sticking to the path he set out for you,” Daniel reminds him, now standing face to face with the florist. Only the counter separates the two men. “It’s that girl again, isn’t it? Is that why you’ve been so busy?”

The corner of Jimin’s mouth twitches when he mentions you. “Among other things.”

Daniel notices. “I thought you weren’t interested in a serious relationship.”

One of the biggest burdens of becoming a mage hunter is how dangerous the job is. Every night – especially during the witching hour – they’re out there, risking their lives. One mistake could be fatal. If they’re not careful enough, they could be the next victim of their target’s hexes and curses, and it’s not uncommon for the Wicked to attack a hunter’s loved ones as well.

That’s the fate of his parents: when a female mage went after and tortured his mother to seek revenge on his father. Jimin became an orphan that same night, and had been raised by his grandparents since.

Although he’d occasionally indulge and pursue the affections and company of other women, they’re not like you.

There’s something sweet about the way you’re captivated by the little things. The way your eyes light up when he’d take you around the town he grew up in, watching street entertainers and musicians at the square, tasting new flavors at the market, or finding small trinkets and snacks to gift your housemates. He sees how hard you work each day, welcoming customers to your shop and serving them hot meals and refreshing drinks. He sees how you love so wholeheartedly, fiercely protective and caring toward each of them.

“This one is different,” Jimin reasons, now busying himself with wiping the counter down. His expression softens a bit when he thinks about you. And how much he misses you.

“You should introduce me to her,” Daniel suggests, noticing that as well. For someone he’s been courting for this long, Jimin seldom mentions you. “I’d love to meet this mysterious woman.”

“She’s out of town right now. I don’t know when she’s coming back.”

Convenient. But Daniel isn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“Then bring it up to her when she comes back,” he says with a forced grin. “It’s only natural to introduce your girlfriend to your friends, right?”

Jimin doesn’t seem to like the idea. “We’ll see.”

“You can’t hide her forever,” Daniel replies, insistent. Curious, too.

He and Jimin used to tell each other everything, bonding over their rigorous training and disciplined lifestyle. THey’d hang out with their friends after meetings and see each other often around town and during hunts.

Now, Jimin has secrets that he refuses to tell. He’s become more private, more distant. He’s actively missing out on meetups and avoiding grounds where they’d normally run into each other.

Now, Jimin seems to be straying off that clear, straight, flowery path that his family had graciously paved for him, stupidly throwing it all away.

All because of you.

“We’ll see, Daniel,” Jiin repeats, his voice firm.

However, Daniel relents. He turns away and pushes open the door to exit the shop. But not without commenting, “She’s changed you, Park.”

“Are we okay?” Namjoon checks with you, a bit quiet and nervous. You weren’t with him when he woke up the next morning.

“When aren’t we?” you question back, sipping on a vial of potion that Hoseok brewed for you. It makes the soreness and pain on your body barely noticeable.

But you wish the remedy would work faster. You can’t imagine what Jimin would say if he sees you’ve gotten hurt on this quest.

Still, the guilt in Namjoon’s eyes are clear. “Just want to make sure, baby.”

“We’re good,” you reassure him, standing on your toes to kiss him once you’re done. Your hands rest on his chest, and you feel the cloth bandages under his shirt. Your smile fades as you think about that dream and Namjoon wanting to stay back in his hometown. “I’m sorry, Joon.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t yours, either.”

The two of you leave it at that.

But with a shy, dimpled smile, he offers his hand. And once you place your hand over his, he brings it to his lips and kisses your knuckles. You return his smile, and your heart skips with the comfort of knowing that things between you and Namjoon will be all right. 

So far, the trek back home has been uneventful. All the trees and foliage start to look the same, blurring together in a mass of greens and browns. The path ahead feels never-ending. But the Oathkeepers seem used to long travels like this, mingling with you and the boys and keeping things entertaining.

Just ahead, you can hear several conversations and loud, boisterous laughter from everyone in your party. And somehow, that makes your homesickness grow.

You miss the cobblestone paths and bustling streets of New Haven. You miss your little, cozy shop and the smell of Hoseok’s homemade brews and Seokjin’s delicious cooking. You miss listening to Yoongi play the piano, re-enacting dramatic plays with Taehyung, folding laundry with Jungkook, and reading books with Namjoon.

Most of all, you miss Jimin terribly. You wish he was here with all of you.

Until you tell him the truth about what you are, everything must remain hidden. But you swore to yourself that as soon as you return – each step toward town is closer to home, closer to him – you’ll finally tell him.

“There’s someone ahead,” Taehyung suddenly warns. His golden eyes are locked onto a small party camping out in a clearing in front of you. They seem to have spotted you guys as well.

“Sorry! We’ll go around you guys!” Seokjin shouts out, not wanting to bother them. He’s about to turn back when someone from the camp calls out to them.

“Kim Seokjin? Is that you?”

Your heart stops.

“Who’s that?” Jungkook asks, frowning as a group of five walks closer to your party.

Seokjin doesn’t answer. Instead, he frowns and whispers, “Stay here.”

He gives a meaningful look to his guild friends before he steps forward into the clearing. A couple of them flank his side while the rest stand with you and the others protectively.

The one that called out to Seokjin looks familiar, and panic runs cold in your veins when you realize why.

The man smiles. “I thought it was you. I haven’t seen you since we were wardens at Blackstone Castle.”

Yoongi immediately gestures for you to stay behind him, blocking their view of you. Taehyung whispers for Hoseok to do the same without taking his gaze off the group, seeming ready to confront them as well. But Jungkook subtly tugs Taehyung back and reminds him of his golden-colored eyes before checking back on Namjoon.

You could barely see over Yoongi’s shoulder, but Seokjin seems to keep his composure as he asks, “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“There are reports of a dangerous mage causing havoc to a small village called Hawthorn,” he explains, clearly talking about the necromancer. “These hunters and I are planning to check it out.”

Tension fills the air as you glance at the others in his party. You don’t recognize any of them, but you see the hunters studying each of you. One of them leans over and whispers to another.

Beside you, Hoseok protectively drags Taehyung further back. A worried frown is set on his lips as he watches Seokjin. And behind you, you could practically feel the heat of anger radiating off Namjoon. He glares back at the hunters with a steady gaze and a clenched jaw.

“Ah, we were just coming from there,” Seokjin explains with a forced laugh. “Someone must’ve taken care of it. The village was clear of dark magic when we passed by.”

“Are you sure? Their situation seemed pretty dire.”

“We’re sure,” Jaehwan answers for him. “That target has been vanquished and the villagers are working on rebuilding what they’ve lost now.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame.” The man sighs, shaking his head. “Say, where are you guys headed? The closest town from here is New Haven. It’ll be nice to catch up with you after everything that’s happened.”

“Sorry, we must be on our way,” Seokjin declines. He wants to get you guys away from them as quickly as possible.

But the former warden isn’t going to let him go that easily. “Come on. What’s the rush? You aren’t hiding anything, are you?”

His gaze shifts to your group. The hunters are watching you all too, no longer paying attention to Seokjin.

“We had a long journey. We’re just trying to get through these woods,” Seokjin calmly reasons. He tries to end the conversation there.

But the former warden continues. 

“You’ve always had such a soft spot for those abominations,” the man replies with a haughty smirk. “After Blackstone fell, many of us wardens joined the hunters. You won’t believe how many of those vile creatures and their devils have integrated themselves in our society. How they’ve threatened the order of the Devoted and all things good, trying to gain sympathy from stupid traitors.”

“I have no interest in joining the mage hunters, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Seokjin firmly states.

“Why not?” the man asks, crossing his arms. “Because you’re the one that freed those monsters that night?”

Your eyes widen. Hoseok curses beneath his breath.

“As you can see, he’s already spoken for,” Junghwan quickly intervenes. “He’s in our guild, and we don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“Very well. I won’t take up anymore of your time,” he relents, finally letting you all go through the clearing. Your group grab onto each other – you slipping your arm around Namjoon and holding Taehyung with your other hand – and keep your head down as you cross their campsite. You feel their eyes on each of you, but if the former warden recognizes you, Namjoon, or Hoseok, he doesn’t say. His attention is stuck on the guild leader as he adds, “I’ll see you around, Seokjin.”

It sounds more like a promise than a goodbye.

None of you let go of each other, even when you’re out of ear-shot and a good distance away. You’re on edge, constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure they aren’t following you guys. You check on the others too, and they seem just as worried as you are.

“What do we do now?” Jungkook asks, breaking the tense silence. “They recognized Jin-hyung.”

“Is there a way we could make them forget they ever ran into us?” Taehyung asks.

“Theorietically, we can,” Hoseok answers with a frown. He’s done it before with the leader of the New Order and his men, but he had time to prepare for it. “It’s just… very complicated. Any magic involving memories are.”

“Those hunters will track us down,” Namjoon warns, clenching his jaw. “If they reach Hawthorn, he might recognize Jackson too.”

“What are you suggesting, Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook asks, his eyes widening.

“We do what we always do. We stick together. We don’t let our guard down. We survive by taking care of each other,” Hoseok reminds you all. Unspoken rules that all the mages had followed since within the walls of Blackstone Castle. “Taehyung, can you fly back and warn Jackson?”

Taehyung nods and pounds his chest. “You can count on me, hyung.”

With that said, Taehyung kisses you goodbye and promises to catch up with you guys soon. Then, he shifts into a raven and flies off, backtracking to Hawthorn as fast as he could. You watch as Taehyung leaves until you’re not able to see him anymore.

When you turn back to your group, most of them have gone ahead. But Yoongi is with you. Neither of you said a word about the hunters and the former warden.

“What do you think?” Yoongi quietly asks you. But he already knows how you feel.

You’ll do whatever it takes to keep your nightmares from becoming a premonition.

Your eyes meet his as you answer, “I’ll make sure they aren’t able to follow us.”

True to his word, you hear Taehyung cawing for your attention only hours later. He shifts mid-air, hopping a bit as he lands and nearly throws himself on you.

“I’m so exhausted,” he pants against your neck, sweat clinging to the soft curls of his dark hair as he leans on you.

Hoseok laughs and helps carry some of his familiar’s weight off of you. “Good job, Taehyung. You worked hard.”

“How did it go?” Namjoon asks, handing him a canister of water.

Grateful, Taehyung takes it and chugs it down with huge gulps. He then reports that Jackson has been keeping low as he settles into the village. Rumors at the pub have been spreading about other guilds and hunters coming into the town, but they quickly turn back once they realize the necromancer has been vanquished and the village is trying to rebuild. Some stay to help with the restoration efforts, so that their travels aren’t a complete waste of time. But luckily, everyone in Hawthorn has been quiet about their saviors, simply saying that a guild had already completed their quest.

“Sounds like Jackson has it all handled,” Hoseok remarks as Namjoon nods, both relieved that their friend is doing well.

“There’s one more thing,” Taehyung adds, straightening up with a serious look on his face. “Those hunters that we ran into – they’re gone.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I went to check on them on my way back. Their campsite and all their supplies are still there, but it’s been abandoned. Like they suddenly vanished in thin air.”

Mixed feelings of relief, confusion, and concern follow Taehyung’s report. Suspiciously, you and Yoongi are awfully quiet. The two of you also volunteered to scout around for a while, separating from the others before they could protest.

“How is that even possible?” Namjoon asks as their gazes fall on you.

This witchcraft was not taught in Blackstone.

Yoongi tightens his hold around your hand, covering how the tips of your fingers are blackened from magic overuse. You shrug your shoulders and reply, “I don’t know.”

The mysterious, unnamed shop across the street looks desolate since you and the others have left for Hawthorn Village.

Without its residents, it no longer has its warm, inviting presence that lures curious customers toward it. Instead, it feels cold, empty, and abandoned. Spooky enough that even the loyal regulars are repelled by it.

Jimin watches as a piece of the roof collapses upon itself.

Dramatic, Jimin thinks with a roll of his eyes. He uses a copy of the key that you hid under one of your garden pots and lets himself in.

Everything is how it should be. Nothing has been moved or touched since you all left. Jimin comes just to water your plants, stack up your mail, dust the shelves, and tidy things up a bit for your return.

The silence around him is deafening. He’s gotten so used to this place being so loud and lively.

By now, Yoongi would be playing the piano and Jungkook would sing along to the melody as he does his share of chores. Seokjin and Namjoon would bicker about something trivial, like if a tomato is a fruit or vegetable or if the chicken came before the egg. And Hoseok and Taehyung’s loud voices and laughter would carry throughout the whole shop as they experiment with mixing drinks.

Of course, you’d be in the mix of it all as well.

The melody that Yoongi plays quickly turns into a serenade the moment he notices you’re listening. Jungkook sings more sweetly as he stops what he’s doing and pulls you closer to him, only to pass on the broom or featherduster for you to finish the task he started. No matter how ridiculous Seokjin’s point is, you’d always side with him just so you could argue against Namjoon. The debate usually becomes entertaining enough for everyone to listen in and see who’ll win. And somehow, both Hoseok and Taehyung are even more animated and louder when you join their conversation, using you as their guinea pig and carefully observing your reaction to their concoctions.

Jimin misses you. But strangely, he misses the others too.

Whenever Jimin stops by to check on the shop, he only stays downstairs where the business-side of things are. Upstairs are all private rooms, one for each resident.

Plus, that extra room. One so plain and unassuming, it stands out among the colors and characters of the other seven.

However, since he’s seen part of the roof fall with his own eyeballs, he might as well check the damage. Unless, somehow, the building magically fixes itself.

As he ascends, the lanterns placed along the steps light up on their own. Four doors on each side of the narrow hallway. Seven of them lead to a room curated for each of you and your housemates. 

But Jimin’s gaze is set on that extra room.

Although he comes to the shop quite often, he’s never really up here. Each time he is, however, he feels drawn to this particular room. Like it belongs to him.

His hand touches the doorknob, and he slowly turns it open.

Across the street, his own bedroom above the flower shop is plain and minimal, only holding the basic essentials. There aren’t any personal touches or sentiments that most living spaces have. Jimin merely uses it as a place to rest and store his things.

For this room, he imagines a similar setup: a bed with dusty covers, an empty bureau and storage chest, a simple chair and table. Perhaps there’s a painting that one of the boys made that’s hung up on the wall. Perhaps one of the many bouquets he’s given you is placed inside to brighten up the room.

But for a brief second, as he pushes the door open, he’s hit with the strong, floral perfumes of his shop. An elegant, white couch sits in the center of a room full of beautiful, blooming flowers. The warm colors of the plants contrast with the chic furniture, and the sight of it all makes him catch his breath.

Just as quickly as he sees the interior of his dream room, it vanishes.

Inside is just an empty room. No furniture or art pieces like he expected. No evidence of roof damage or even decay like he came to investigate. The late afternoon sunlight pours in from the curtainless windows.

Yet, his heart hammers as he thinks about that vision – that claim of having this room as his. Full of the many flowers he’s given you, and the delicate beauty of things that matches his personal style. That, maybe soon, he’ll finally be a part of something more meaningful with you and the others.

By now, he knows that this building is full of magic. He’s seen with his own eyes the way it comes to life when the residents are home – and how it quickly deteriorates when they’re not. Inanimate objects move on their own. Rooms appear larger than they are and defy all physics and logic.

And, apparently, it can gaslight him into thinking you have a giant hole on your roof.

After searching for half an hour, he’s given up. He can’t say he’s surprised. Stranger things have happened within these walls before.

Just as he’s about to leave, fishing out the key to lock up the shop from his pocket, something catches his eye.

When you first walked into his shop, you picked out some flowers to use for your teas. He stuck a purple rose in the mix – a color of storybook, love-at-first-sight romance. Cupid’s arrow struck him the day he met you, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since.

Weeks after, he figured out you were a mage when that same rose started to change its colors: the light purple of first love fading into the pink shades of innocent romance, with a silver budding of red that symbolizes true love. Enchanted with magic so it never wilts. Because you haven’t stopped thinking about him either.

Now, that very same rose sits prettily in a vase. Its petals are now a combination of peach, pink, and cream – colors that express missing someone.

Jimin can’t help but wonder if that rose represents your feelings for him, or if they’re his feelings for you.

Suddenly, a small rumble shakes the shop.

Alarmed, Jimin dives under a table as the building seems to come to life. He hears the creaks and groans of wood, the swing of light fixtures on the ceiling, and the clatter and rattle of bottles, vases, and decorative pieces around him. Furniture moves before his very eyes – books fly around like leaves caught in the wind, picture frames tilt and spin, candlelight flicker with dancing flames.

“What the hell…” Jimin utters in disbelief, just as the long curtains draw back to let sunlight shine through.

Truly, this place is just fucking with him now.

Slowly, Jimin starts to crawl out of his hiding spot when he hears voices just outside the shop. Voices that are familiar. Voices that he really missed.

When the front door opens, it all makes sense why the shop reacted as it did. Why the colors around him seem so much brighter, more vivid. Why any traces of ruin and abandonment disappeared. Why feelings of warmth and welcome seep back into the once cold and empty place.

“Finally!” Namjoon exclaims, being the first to step inside. “We’re home!”

“What do you want for dinner?” Seokjin asks, looking at the others behind him. His guild friends throw in their suggestions, and Jungkook bashfully smiles and asks for pork belly.

“Should I get started on the drinks, then?” Hoseok wonders out loud, neatly placing his belongings down by the door.

“Do whatever you want,” Yoongi casually replies with a yawn, clearly tired from traveling all day. “I’m gonna take a bath first.”

Lastly, you and Taehyung enter together with your arms linked around each other, playfully hopping over the threshold and giggling when his feet land ahead of yours.

“Oh? Jimin, you’re here?” Taehyung asks in surprise. He’s the first one to notice him coming out from under the table, and his golden eyes flicker nervously around the shop, hoping he hadn’t seen anything unusual before their arrival.

“Jimin, you’re here!” you echo with delight.

Before Jimin has a chance to straighten up, you throw your arms around him. He smiles as he pulls you tighter. He closes his eyes, breathes you in, and savors the warmth of your skin in his embrace.

“I missed you,” he murmurs honestly. It’s been so hard since you’ve been away.

“I missed you, too. How have you been?” you ask, your voice just as soft. You pull back to look at him, but he frowns at what he sees. Clearly, the quest at Hawthorn wasn’t easy. You look exhausted, worn from travel and the lack of sleep. There are bandages around your neck and arm, indicating that you got hurt as well.

“Me? I’m fine, but…” He holds your arm and carefully looks at your injuries. It doesn’t look too bad now, but your smile drops when he examines your fingertips. It’s faint, but it’s stained with black. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story. But I’m okay. Promise.” You’re quick to draw your hand back, curling it into a light fist and clasping your other hand over it. From the other room, you hear the boys shouting and kitchen utensils being used as everyone starts to settle in. With a smile, you change the subject. “We’re throwing a small party tonight. Can you stay?”

Jimin stares at your hands.

As a hunter, he knows that means you’ve either used too much magic in a short span of time or had cast a risky spell that could’ve been dangerous.

But you don’t know that he knows this. You don’t know that he’s been aware of your magic for a while now.

There’s so much that you both keep hidden from each other.

Behind you, Jungkook spots you two and loudly shouts, “Yo, Jimin-ssi! Are you joining us tonight?”

The others are equally surprised to see him, but they welcome him nonetheless. It doesn’t take a lot to convince Jimin to stay.

His lips quirk to a slight smile and he answers, “Sure.” 

Your smile returns. As you take his hand and lead him to join the others, Jimin catches a glimpse of the rose and notices it has changed its colors again.

White at the base, pure and innocent. A blank page and a promise of a new beginning. Yellow at the tips. A way to welcome someone after a long absence. A color of joy, hope, and most importantly, trust.

“It’s good to be home again,” Namjoon states, bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips. His eyes meet yours with a meaningful look, and the two of you share a secret smile.

Just hours ago, you’ve all made it back to New Haven without running into any other incidents. The wonder and concern about the former warden and his group slipped to the back of your minds as soon as you stepped foot onto the familiar, cobblestone paths of your busy, little town.

It hadn’t hit you how much you missed it. The liveliness of the town square as guilds meet, the faces of travelers browsing through goods at the marketplace, the quieter sides of town where you and the others like to escape to – such as the riverside and where your own shop is set up.

But none of that comes close to how much you missed Jimin.

The reunion is too brief before you’re both pulled to prepare for the party.

After a bath and a quick stop to the market, you prepared the side dishes and cut the vegetables. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook put together the main dishes. Their chests puffed with pride when everyone was in awe at how it tasted as delicious as it looked. Namjoon and Taehyung helped with the clean up, pausing every now and then to dramatically quote lines of poetry to each other. And Hoseok and Jimin brought out a variety of alcoholic liquor, and passed out each person’s drink of choice.

At one table, Seokjin and his guild friends are playing card games. Losers of each round are penalized by taking a shot of hard liquor, and the longer the game goes on, the rowdier their group seems to get.

Equally loud and drunk, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook sit at their own table. The three of them take turns doing party-tricks for each other, shaking up and popping open bottles. The way they hype each other up draws attention and laughter from the rest of the room as they continuously pour drinks after drinks.

Your table with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok is calmer by comparison.

The four of you share a bottle of whiskey. You and Hoseok clink glasses and compete on who can take a shot without making a face. You feel Yoongi’s hand on your back as you bring the glass to your lip and tip your head back. The liquid burns down your throat as you set down the glass and look at Hoseok – but the red blush already coloring his face and the disgusted grimace he couldn’t hide nearly made you choke.

Namjoon and Yoongi burst into laughter as they watch you two. While the two of you struggle, they’ve been commenting on the notes they somehow taste and refill their drinks like it’s water.

“What do you think happened to those guys?” Hoseok asks, nursing on his next drink. You visibly stiffen, turning to him nervously, but he’s looking at the way the ice melts in his glass and dilutes the taste.

Namjoon groans and sets his glass down a little harder than he intended. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore. Whatever happened, they deserved it.”

“That’s the thing that worries me. We don’t know what happened to them.”

“It is strange that they just disappeared,” Yoongi plays along. Underneath the table, you feel his hand on your thigh, his thumb stroking you reassuringly.

Only you and Yoongi know what became of them.

They share the same fate as those guys that tried to assault you in Blackstone Tower. 

Their bodies, destroyed. Their souls, devoured.

You’d do it again if it meant protecting everyone in this room.

“What if whatever got to them comes after us?” Hoseok worries out loud.

“They won’t,” you answer tersely. Namjoon and Hoseok turn to you with surprise. But there’s a determination in your eyes as you add, “I won’t let them.”

Endearment strikes all three of their faces when they hear your promise. Hoseok laughs and places his hands on his reddening cheek. “I think I just fell for you again, pretty girl.”

When Jimin came to the shop that afternoon, he didn’t intend to stay long. He only meant to stop by really quick, collect your mail, water your plants, tidy up a bit, and be on his way. His own shop across the street calls for his attention, cold and lonely despite the beautiful flowers that fill it.

But like many things that happen since he’s met you, something unexpected happens.

Strayed paths. Magic. A broken rooftop.

Suddenly, he finds himself four drinks in with Taehyung and Jungkook. The alcohol paints his cheeks rosy as he watches as Jungkook unabashedly flirts with you from across the room, exaggerating smoldering looks and dramatic flying kisses before immediately folding over and giggling when you’d smile at him and blow a kiss back.

“Cute,” Jimin muses, grinning at the interaction between you two. He glances over at Taehyung, who meets his gaze with an unreadable expression.

Perhaps the liquor makes Taehyung sleepy, even if he didn’t drink nearly as much as him and Jungkook. But even before the drinks were poured, there’s been this curious look on his face since he returned home.

“You know everything, don’t you?”

For a brief second, the chaos around him fades in the background. Jimin only hears the thrum of his own heartbeat as he looks at Taehyung with wide eyes.

“What?”

Taehyung keeps eye contact with him a moment too long. His face is unreadable, but his golden eyes are silently assessing him. But his gaze breaks when his attention turns to your table.

Yoongi is the first to retire to his room. He staggers a bit when he stands up, but kisses the top of your head and clumsily pats your shoulder as he wishes you goodnight. He leaves just as Namjoon gets drunk enough that he starts to serenade you, and Hoseok is still sober enough to cover your precious ears and plead for him to stop.

Namjoon’s voice cracks mid-highnote that sends you, Hoseok, and everyone else watching you guys into fits of laughter. Jungkook suddenly stands up, feeling left out of the fun. “I’ll be back.”

He easily slips next to Namjoon, throwing his arm around him as they drunkenly sing together. Hoseok is laughing so hard, he’s nearly on the floor as he clings onto you. You’re torn between bashful blushing and giggles, hiding your face from second-hand embarrassment, and accepting your fate and swaying to their song.

“Should we stop them?” Jimin asks, and again sees Taehyung giving him a quiet and curious look.

But he simply smiles and says, “Sure, Jimin.”

Before either of them could move, you manage to slip away on your own. Jungkook takes over your spot, pouring more drinks for Namjoon and Hoseok. You seem to be making your way toward them, eyes bright with determination as the liquid courage gives you the push you need to reveal all your secrets to him.

A hand grabs you before you could make it to their table.

“Honey, who do you think is the most handsome man in the room?” Seokjin – with red ears and in front of an anticipating audience – seems to be dared to ask. In the center of the table is a large cup mixed with every liquor in the shop. He leans a little closer and whispers, “Please say it’s me and not Taehyung.”

“What about me, hyung?” Taehyung asks him, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“Get out of here,” Seokjin complains, but his friends invite him to sit with them. Even Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jungkook join in shortly, too curious to hear your answer and who’ll end up drinking the cup in the center.

It seems that the Oathkeepers have become friends with you all after the trip.

And Jimin, left alone at his table, has the sombering thought that he’s been wrong about everything he knows about mages and magic. All his life, he’s been taught that magic is the root of all evil, and anyone who wields it is bound to be Wicked. From a young age, he’s been trained to see you as the enemy and hunt you down – for the safety of the non-magical and as a duty to the Devoted faith.

Laughter and yelling erupts with a scandalous question that someone asks. The answer seems to cause an even bigger riot, and one of the guild members sink under the table in shame.

And in the midst of the chaos, Jimin watches as you kiss Seokjin’s cheek and whisper something affectionate to him. He watches as Seokjin mouths that he loves you.

Protecting mages is grounds for treason. Falling in love with one is a forbidden sin, often thrown with words like temptation, seduction, and magical manipulation. The Devoted would claim you’d only love a mage if you’re cursed by one.

Yet, the Oathkeepers exist to protect you guys.

Seokjin, a former warden, chooses to put his life on the line for you. He chooses to be with you and the others, despite being only human. Despite what society tells him.

And Jimin…

“Are you okay?”

He snaps out of his train of thought to see that you’re standing before him, concerned when you notice he’s just sitting by himself. Over your shoulder, he sees the others motioning for him to join you guys – always welcoming him into something heavier than warmth and comfort.

It’s far from the path that Jimin only walked on – far from the flowery road that his parents and his grandparents paved for him. The promise of a pedestal legacy with a hefty price of loneliness and bitterness isn’t what Jimin wants for himself anymore.

So, he takes your hand and smiles. “I’m more than okay.”

Because he trusts that the path you lead him to is home.

Hours later, the night finally begins to die down.

Seokjin stays just long enough for the last of his guild to leave. Then, he retreats to his room with his social battery completely drained, swearing off any long missions for a little while. More than eager to finally sleep on his own bed after nights of camping on the cold, hard ground, he makes it halfway up the stairs before he suddenly jogs back down and asks you for a goodnight kiss.

Jungkook refuses to let anything go to waste, being the only one left eating and finishing up the last drops of alcohol until he becomes too full and sleepy. There’s a childish pout on his face as he follows you around while you’re cleaning up, torn between wanting to be with you and heading upstairs. You laugh when you catch a glimpse of his slow blinks and tired face, and send him to bed.

Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung help you with the cleanup: storing leftovers, picking up empty bottles, washing dirty dishes, wiping down tables, and sweeping the floor. It doesn’t take long to tidy up the shop again, and both Hoseok and Taehyung bring Namjoon upstairs after he passed out on the couch. They both say their goodnight as they fling Namjoon’s arms over their shoulders and carry him to his room.

That just leaves you and Jimin.

And a secret that you’ve been wanting to tell him all night.

Your heart feels full after making it back home, after celebrating the return with friends and your loved ones. The people you want to protect are all safe.

No hunters. No former wardens. Nothing that warrants any of the nightmares that haunt you.

Or so you think.

Jimin leans against the archway as he quietly watches you dim the lights and close up the shop. 

What marks your talent as a spellcaster is how seamlessly you use your magic. Any normal mortal would’ve missed the way your hand presses on the door as your other hand manually turns the locks. How the incantation slips with your breath, your head angled where he can’t see the movement of your lips. How you’re able to control the blue light seeping into the wood so it’s barely noticeable, yet still able to keep the nightly protection spell intact.

You feel the weight of his gaze before you finally look at him. The quiet, simmering desire within his siren eyes that makes your heart flutter.

“I should get going,” he teases, making no effort to move from his spot.

“Or you could stay?” you suggest, closing the distance between you and him. “There’s always a place for you here.”

You mean it, too. That extra room upstairs has always belonged to him.

“You want me to?” he quietly asks, his fingers gently cradling your face.

“Please stay,” you whisper. Your hands are on his shoulders, and glide down to his collarbones and chest. “I missed you.”

All too easily, he pulls you toward him. All too easily, you melt in his touch. He kisses you like he’s been wanting to all night, impatient and starving. You match that eagerness and hunger, wrapping your arms tightly as he holds you close – as if afraid you’d disappear if he were to let you go.

A night of drinking still lingers in the taste of his lips and tongue, and without breaking the kiss, he pulls you into the shadows of your shop until your back is pressed against the wall. You’re already breathless as he pulls away, and there’s a tenderness in his touch as he strokes your cheek and looks in your eyes.

“I missed you too.”

Sometimes, the quiet and stillness of the night brings a comfort that daylight can’t. Sometimes, that’s enough to reveal a new side of things – a new side of him.

Tonight, when Jimin looks at you, it’s like there’s an unspoken promise behind his eyes. One that vows to cherish you and keep you safe. One that holds a love that feels both unexpected and meant to be. One that hints at a hidden sorrow that catches you off guard.

“Jimin? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling softly at you. He dips his head to kiss your neck. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

“I love you too. So much,” you confess, closing your eyes as he trails kisses down your throat. You feel yourself trembling a little as you grab a hold of his hands. The next words come out of your mouth quickly, before you could take them back. “Which is why I have something important to tell you.”

He pauses at your words, and draws back to look at you again. “What is it, love?”

Sometimes, the quiet and stillness of the night brings out another side of you too. It reveals secrets kept in the dark. The truths that are finally being told.

“Please know that this doesn’t change anything,” you preface, squeezing his hands. “I’m still me. 

Rather than tell him, you decide to show him.

Nearby, there’s an old bouquet of roses that he had given you, sitting in a vase on an end piece table. The flowers are wilting, browning and curling at the petals, its colors fading. Wordlessly, you extend your hand toward them, and with a simple curl of your fingers to your palm, the flowers rejuvenate with a new life. The stems straighten, the colors bloom more vibrantly, and the petals suddenly perk up and open like they’re greeting the warmth of the sun.

Jimin stares at the flowers like he can’t believe what he just saw. Then, after a moment, he turns to you and meets your eyes.

In the distance, the toll of church bells ring in the hour: once, twice, three times. The witching hour is upon you. The hour where your magic feels the strongest, where the Veil between words is the thinnest, and when your biggest confession falls from your lips.

“I’m a mage,” you finally tell him.

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

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

[taevbears]

hi, hello 👋

i just wanted to stop by and let you guys know that i’m currently working on the next chapter of Magic Shop. I’m about 60% done writing it, and I’m hoping to post it very soon 🫡

and i plan to post CH. 3 of the Acorns & Thimbles after i finish that ☺️

i’ve been so busy with work lately 😭 like, doing overtime almost everyday and even working on my days off. but i was lucky to see hobi on tour, and i’m seeing jin + traveling this summer 🥹

[taevbears]

Acorns & Thimbles - 02

I can feel it. I can't resist it. That sweet devilish smile.

⤑ pairing: hoseok x reader ⤑ genre: faerie au, yandere, dark fantasy ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.9k ⤑ warnings: YANDERE/DARK ROMANCE, faeries are evil creatures in this world, mc is referred to as "darling" and "mother", kidnapping, manipulation, stalking, implied violence (not toward mc). ⤑ note: lmao bc irl hobi and i are on the same wavelength bc why did i write a whole story about an acorn necklace that the mc has, and hobi's tour merch has a necklace with a tiny acorn on it? i was planning on posting this chapter way earlier, but i ended up rewriting half of it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (why am i like this lmaooo). i think it ties in better with the overall story tho, and i hope you guys enjoy!

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03| 04 | 05 (End)

You feel like you’re floating.

Weightlessness. Nothingness. Drifting in the air, simply by the winds that carry you.

Hobi has you in his arms, bridal-style. Effortless with the way he holds you, as if you’re light as a feather to him. Magic must be at play with the way he leaps across rooftops and runs through the town like the breath of a cool breeze. 

Even when he lands in front of a group of teenagers at a park, no one looks your way. They continue on with their basketball game as if the two of you are shrouded with invisibility. The faerie slows his pace, simply walking now as he carries you further into the park.

A few people walking their dogs pass by without a glance toward you two. A young family pushing the stroller of their sleeping baby also ignores the both of you.

You’re almost certain if you’d scream, it’d fall on deaf ears.

He takes you to a small clearing in the park that no one really goes to. An old well used to be before it was closed off and demolished, evident by the circular outline that remains. Mushrooms and wild flowers grow outside the perfect circle on the ground as Hobi brings you closer to it.

“Hold on tight,” he warns you. Once you tighten your grip around his neck, he steps in. And it feels like you’re flying.

Colors flash before your eyes as the wind seems to pick up in all directions, tossing both of you around like autumn leaves caught in a swirling gust. It makes you feel incredibly dizzy, head spinning like you’re in a looping roller-coaster, as gravity pulls you while you’re being lifted in the air. You bury your face into the faerie’s neck, feeling a bit nauseated.

And then, it’s over.

Just like that, you’ve been transported to another world. The one you’ve seen so often in your dreams lately. That island paradise of fantasy and adventure.

“What is this place?” you ask, in awe at the giant trees surrounding you. They look ancient. Deep roots knotted together, twisted within the ground below. Some are oddly-shaped, round around the trunk or bent and twisted like the jagged angles of their branches.

“Neverland. Pixie Hollow. Hope World. Dreamland. Moonland. Sunland. It has many names,” the faerie lists as he continues to slowly carry you through the thickets of the woods. “But we call this place our home.”

There’s one particular tree that stands out. Perhaps, the biggest one in these woods. It’s well hidden among the others, but upon closer inspection, you could see light glowing from within it. Hobi stops right in front of it. Its light makes the trunk of the tree shimmer like sunlight catching the surface of water in a river or a lake.

Until the shimmering fades and a green double-door is revealed. An illusion to disguise the underground bunker.

The doors swing open as light pours out, and Hobi takes you inside. On its own, the doors swing back and the glamor is back up, completely blending the hidden house like it’s any other ordinary, unassuming tree.

“Hobi is back!” someone announces from within the bunker. You hear clattering and rushed footsteps as though children are suddenly cleaning up their mess before their parents walk through the door.

He chuckles, giving them a moment to get it together. Once the commotion dies down, he descends down the stairs with you still in his arms.

“Boys! I have a surprise,” he announces with a wide, heart-shaped smile. “Mother is back!”

Six faces are presented before you, though none of them are children like you initially thought. Rather, the lost boys have all grown as well. Sculpted jawlines, muscular bodies, strong gazes, and all. Each of them are distinctly handsome, dressed in clothes made of animal pelts, hide, and cloth.

They look shocked to see you, and perhaps, for a brief moment, even worried.

“She’s back?” one of them utters in disbelief. He looks like one of the smallest in the group, with a cherub face and pillowy lips. Dainty, white bridal wreath spirea flowers are tucked within the curls of his hair.

“I thought she got away for good,” the one standing next to him whispers, voice deep. He’s tall with long legs and a strikingly handsome face. The deep reds of carolina-allspice stick out of his pocket square boutonnière.

“Is that how you welcome your mother?” Hobi scolds as he finally sets you on your feet. But he keeps a hand on the small of your back, as if wanting to keep you close regardless. His sharp glare causes the six men to break into forced smiles as they greet you.

“It’s been so long, we didn’t recognize you!” another handsome man exclaims. Sewn on his shirt are dried roses and rumex flowers. The smile on his pretty lips is a little too composed to be genuine. “Do you remember any of us?”

“I don’t,” you admit, looking at each of them. None of their faces really ring a bell, but like with Hobi, it strangely feels like you know them as well. Old friends you can’t remember the names of.

“She’s forgotten so much since she’s been away from us,” Hobi explains, shaking his head with pity. “We have a lot of work to do to help her get reacquainted with everything again, but don’t worry. I’m not going to let her leave us again. She promised to stay with us forever this time.”

You see the panic in some of their eyes.

One of them catches your gaze. He’s one of the tallest and most muscular, with high cheekbones and deep dimples when he smiles. He wears his clematis flowers around his head like a crown. His sharp eyes look almost distraught when he asks you, “Why did you promise him that?”

“Is that a problem, Joon?”

A tense silence follows Hobi’s question as he narrows his eyes, displeased by the outburst.

“It’s not, Hobi. We’re just surprised,” the other smallest of the group quickly assures him. He’s quite pale compared to the others, with doll-like features and feline eyes. One larch flower hangs around his neck, tired together with thin, knotted leather.

“Welcome home, Mother,” the last lost boy greets you. A tiny mole is just below his thin lips as his round eyes stare at you with pity. Tiger lilies are fastened around his wrist like a corsage. The greeting is as warm as it could be, but the way they all look at you screams more than what they’re allowed to say.

That you shouldn’t have come back here. That this is a mistake.

Like many children, when you were a little girl, you liked to play pretend. You’d let your imagination go wild, from envisioning perilous and exciting adventures with your brothers out in your grandmother’s garden to mimicking your mother’s mannerisms and the way she spoke as you tuck your dolls and stuffed animals to bed and slipped your tiny feet into a pair of her high heels.

Without a doubt, you played pretend in this world as well.

As the only girl among many boys, you naturally took the role of a mother. You’d remind them to wash their hands before eating, assign house chores to keep the bunker clean, kiss away bruises and scratches, and tell bedtime stories before tucking them all in – just as you did with your stuffed toys and dolls.

Being the eldest daughter in your family, and often having to take care of your own unruly brothers, helped you play the part perfectly.

The lost boys – who’ve come to this world, sometimes by accident, sometimes through deals with the Fae, and have now forgotten their lives outside this realm – are the children. Your heart pitied them when they admitted they couldn’t remember their real mothers, and you felt glad when they started to see you as theirs.

Many of their faces are a blur to you now, but if you could recall them as vividly as they remembered you, you’d realize many of your most precious childhood memories were with them. From cheers of encouragement and triumph when you’d win games or when they’d perfectly hit their targets during practice, to their animated reactions when you’d tell them your silly stories and how they keep asking for more, to one of the boys taking your hand and hiding you away as he makes a promise to you.

“When you’re with me, you’ll always be safe from him.”

And, of course, Hobi – as the leader of the lost boys – played the role of the father. He’d draw a sword and try to discipline them if they misbehave, before you intervened with an alternative.

A beastly concoction. The nasty, sticky, sweet kind.

Medicine.

The word alone had the boys begging for Hobi’s punishment instead as he grinned at you with a proud, crooked smile.

House with you as the mother and him as the father is Hobi’s favorite game.

Make-believe works differently in this island of dreams. Almost anything can be possible if you simply wish it to be.

In your world, if you wanted to make a cake, you’d mix some water in the dirt and shape the mud into a circle and pretend it’s a cake.

In this world, if you mix water in the dirt and shape the mud into a circle, it’d start to smell like chocolate. That rich, sweet aroma would fill the bunker and make your mouth salivate. And when you’re done baking it, it would look like the cake you’ve envisioned, pulled right out of your imagination with fluffy layered pieces coated and mixed with chocolate instead of mud and dirt.

At the end of the day, however, it’s just a pile of mud. Make-believe. Inedible, even if it looks and smells otherwise.

However, there’s some magic in this world that transforms it into an actual cake. But that only seems to be when Hobi wishes it to be.

The forces of this world are his to command.

If he leaves this world to return to yours, a sudden and harsh winter falls across the land. The seas are frozen over, the skies become dark and gloomy, flowers and plants wilt away, and all the residents of the world hide away in their homes to rest. But when he returns, everything comes to life again: sunlight warms the waters, flowers bloom, and everything seems to bask in his presence and welcome him home.

If he wants to go on an adventure, the lost boys stop whatever they’re doing and obey his command. They grab their weapons and their gear, and prepare to head out for whatever Hobi decides they’ll do that day. Whether it’s to listen to intel from the mermaids in the lagoon, exchange found treasures with the dwarves, hunt with the elves, or mess with the pirates while they’re at sea.

If he simply wants to stay inside the bunker to be with you, then you’re forced to deal with an incredibly powerful faerie. Whose illusions can make mud into cake, who brings light and sunshine to an otherwise dreary world, and whose presence strikes fear to those who disobey or go against him.

To Hobi, this was all more than just make-believe.

A small feast is displayed on the table of everyone’s favorites: noodles, chicken, grilled pork belly, seafood stew, fried rice, and lamb skewers among many other dishes and sides. You see a lot of your favorites as well, as if your cravings have manifested and found their place on the table. 

Part of you wonders if what you’re looking at is even real. If you take a slice of cake and bite into it, would you taste the rich, sweet taste of chocolate? Or would it taste like dirt?

“Eat up, darling,” Hobi says from the head of the table. He takes a big bite of some noodles, as if to show you it’s safe to consume. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

He plans to show you everything you missed over the years: the mermaid lagoon, the dwarven caves, and the elven woods. Things you’ve only seen glimpses of in your dreams. A part of you feels excited to see these places, despite the circumstances you’ve found yourself in.

But, as you easily catch on, not everything is what it seems to be.

Subtly, you see the one called Joon shake his head. Some of the others gathered around the table watch you nervously, not touching anything on the table either, even when it all looks and smells so appetizing.

“I’m not very hungry,” you tell him. You remember your grandmother warned you not to accept food, favors, or gifts from the Fae.

Hobi frowns. “You must eat something.”

“Perhaps I will later,” you reply, trying not to look at the food anymore. All your favorites, deliciously displayed before you, feels like a taunt now. “I’ve only just arrived here, and it’s a little overwhelming.”

“Fine. Your choice,” Hobi says, surprisingly easily. He seems a bit annoyed, but decides to let it go for now. “You’ll have to eat eventually, though.”

The lost boys begin to fill their plate, seeming particular about which ones they grab. By now, they must know which are real and which are just illusions, and everything near you must be spoiled, rotten, or a trap.

Hobi keeps an eye on everyone at the table, making sure that they don’t try to feed you or throw hints of what is safe to eat. And you fall quiet, holding your stomach, chanting the five rules in your head.

There are six lost boys that live in the underground bunker.

Jin is the oldest, and shoulders a lot of responsibilities to look after the others. His first mistake when he came to this world is eating food from the faeries, and its powers trapped him here in this realm. When Hobi isn’t looking, he slides an apple underneath the table for you and murmurs not to touch the meat.

Yoon is the second oldest, and seems to be the main craftsman of the group. Hobi talks to him about making some changes to accommodate your stay, like some new furniture in the old room you used to stay in. He’s been a lost boy for so long, he doesn’t remember his life in the human realm or how he got here.

Unlike Joon, who does remember bits about his past life, despite being part of the lost boys the longest. There was a deal gone wrong where he traded his life for his sister’s when she contacted a faerie for help, and he wound up here with Hobi and the others. He doesn’t regret the decision since his sister is safe, and he’s grown close with the other boys, but he seems most concerned with you, as if you sometimes remind him of his foolish sister.

Min is the designated healer of the group. Although he’s human, he looks like he could be a faerie himself. Perhaps that’s why, when he was a baby, he was kidnapped and taken here. Raised by faeries with healing abilities until he joined the lost boys.

Tae is the best sharpshooter, and rarely misses a target. He was on a hike with his family when he saw a wisp in the woods and followed it deeper into the thickets, where he soon found himself missing from the others. It was hard for him, from what he remembers of his early days, but eventually, he started to forget the pain and grief when he started to forget his family and friends. “That’s the thing about this place,” he later warns you. “You forget.”

And Kook, the youngest of the group, had willingly come to this world for the thrills of fun and adventure, like you once had. It’s hard not to be enticed by what this world has to offer to a young boy and a child at heart. You don’t blame him for accepting a deal when Hobi gave him the opportunity to do this forever. But forever, as you had said, is an awfully long time.

Jin, Yoon, Joon, Min, Tae, and Kook. You realize none of the boys are called by their full names, but what seems like a partial name. An alias or a nickname.

You have a feeling that if you ask them for their true names, they won’t know how to answer you. That they wouldn’t be able to.

Because they’ve already long forgotten them.

Your room isn’t ready yet.

In a fluster, Hobi and the lost boys come in and out of the bunker, carrying tools and supplies, cleaning up and moving furniture around, and accommodating your sudden arrival. From the main room, you could hear the ruckus of construction and Hobi barking his orders, wanting everything to be perfect for you.

One of them – Joon, you think – is assigned to stay with you.

“Just in case,” Hobi tells you with a bright and dangerous smile. “Even though I know you won’t be stupid enough to run away. Right?” 

You huff under your breath. Even if you could escape, where would you go? You’re in his world now. There isn’t really anywhere you could run off to.

A long, uncomfortable silence stretches out between you and Joon. Although he tries not to stare, you still feel his eyes on you. It must feel strange. The last time you saw any of them, you were a little girl.

“Why did you come back?” he finally asks. His voice is quiet, as if he’s afraid that Hobi could hear him from the other room.

“My grandmother,” you reply truthfully. Your heart sinks as you think about her. “She’s been trying to protect me for so long. I had hoped that leaving with him would protect her and the rest of my family this time.”

He nods understandingly. But the pity is still clear in his eyes. “I remember your brothers. One always had a little bear with him, and the other was always a gentleman.”

You smile a little as you try to imagine it. Your younger brother – who is now married with a kid on the way – always carried himself as a well-mannered and polite person, even when he was a child. But he was fascinated with pirates and exploration, and you could see him easily getting along with other boys who shared the same thrill of adventure with him. And your other brother – who lives overseas – was a bit clumsy and sweet, and brought his favorite toy with him wherever he went. Despite being one of the youngest boys at the time, he’s very endearing and charming, and the other boys seemed to want to protect him rather than leave him out of their antics.

They didn’t come to this world with you all the time, though. After all, it was only you that the faerie was after.

At some point, your brothers must’ve realized something you hadn’t and had stopped coming here. You wish you could talk to them now.

“Could you show me around?” you ask, hearing your voice waver. It was your choice to accept a deal with the faerie, but you still miss your family terribly.

Joon nods and shows you around the little underground home. Although you and Hobi entered through a magical front door, there are slides and ladders that mark the several entry and exit points of the bunker. The main area consists of an open kitchen, a large dining area with tables pushed together, and a spacious common room for dozens of children to run around and play, and for the lost boys to spar against each other with wooden weapons. Beyond the main room are curtained archways that lead to small rooms with bunks and cots that the boys share.

As you’re shown around, you feel like you’re in a bright and cozy cottage treehouse. Every furniture piece is handcrafted from wood and stones. Hanging ivy and wildflowers decorate the bunker with its vibrant colors and lush greenery. Beams of moonlight peek through the thick roots and mossy ceiling above you. There’s even a tall stone hearth in the main room that provides warmth and light through the cold nights.

“Do you still tell stories?” Joon asks as you both take a moment to watch the glowing fire.

A tangible memory comes to you. One where you’d sit by the fireplace and tell your silly stories to all the lost boys and Hobi. You liked to tell them your favorites: Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty – the fairy tales that end with true love and a kiss. And even if they’ve heard the story before, they love the way you tell them.

“I do,” you reply softly. “I was actually working on a story before I came here.”

“About what?”

“This world. This place,” you gesture vaguely. “This…”

“Neverland.”

“Yes.” Neverland – a place of dreams. A world Hobi declares as his and yours.

“I’m glad that hasn’t changed,” Joon tells you sincerely. “We’ve always loved your stories.”

For the first time since you arrived, you smile back at him. A sense of relief lifts the burden of uneasiness you’ve been feeling. Perhaps, because you and the lost boys were all friends once. Perhaps, because they know you’re scared and they’re trying to take care of you and comfort you behind Hobi’s back.

Or, perhaps, because when you really think about it, your situation isn’t that different from theirs. You’re all trapped in this Neverland with no hope of escape.

Further down, the two of you end up in a particular room. Unlike the rest of the bunker, this one feels old and desolate. The wood flooring is decayed and rotting, threatening to collapse within itself. Overgrown vines snake down poorly-lit walls, and gnarled roots twist across the shadowy floor. The amount of cobwebs and dust indicate that no one has been in there for years, and Joon seemed hesitant to follow you inside.

“Who’s room is this?” you ask, noting the broken furniture and the holes punched through the walls. It’s as if someone was in a fit of rage and trashed this place.

“I don’t remember,” Joon admits with a frown. Of all the lost boys, he tends to remember things the most. “I think it might’ve belonged to…”

He trails off, and you follow his line of vision to see what’s caught his attention.

Tucked away, hidden and mostly covered by torn sheets, is an old chest. An iron lock keeps it shut and sealed, but a rusted key sticks out of the keyhole.

“What is this?” you ask, but Joon shrugs. Curious, you pull out the chest, grab the old key, and slowly turn it until you hear a loud click. The lock falls off, broken on the ground. The chest creaks as you lift the top.

For a brief second, you imagine gold, jewels, and valuable treasure inside the chest.

Instead, you find small wooden rounds sliced from nearby tree branches, each about the size of a child’s hand. Engraved in the center of every piece are initials. There must’ve been hundreds of them inside the chest.

“There used to be more of us,” Joon explains when he realizes what it is – what this treasure represents. One carving equals one lost boy. There’s a solemn look on his face. “A lot more.” 

“How many?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Twenty or so?”

You vaguely remember it. You and your brothers in a room full of rowdy boys, eating a big feast together in celebration of a successful adventure. You could hear the constant chatter and laughter. How lively and chaotic everything used to be.

Now, it’s dreadfully quiet and empty. The noise levels are down, many of the rooms are left abandoned and dusty. Most of the boys are gone, and now, there are only six left.

“What happened to them?” you ask, but you’re afraid you already know the answer.

Joon replies anyway. “Father did.”

When you first arrived at Neverland, you nearly died.

A lost boy – Tae, who’s always felt guilty about it afterwards – shot you with an arrow when he mistook you for a bird. You survived the fall – the magical effects of pixie dust softening the harsh blow – and landed close to their secret hideout. And before Hobi could draw his knife and run it through Tae’s chest in revenge, Min confirmed you’re still breathing and Hobi rushed to your side and forgot all about punishing him.

It turned out that Hobi’s gift saved you that day. The acorn necklace that you tied around your neck before you went off on your adventure with him blocked the cut of the arrow’s blade and spared you.

As an apology, the lost boys built you a lovely house with their bare hands as you rested, and went on their hands and knees and begged for your forgiveness when you woke up and came out of the house they built. Tae even handed you a knife and tugged on his shirt, waiting for you to strike him as revenge.

Of course, you never did. You immediately dropped the weapon and hugged him instead, thanking him and the other boys for building you such a lovely and thoughtful thing.

Years later, you find yourself standing in front of that same, one-room cottage.

It’s still tiny and pretty, with red-barked walls and a mossy thatch roof. Cobblestones and flowerbeds are laid around the structure, and wooden planter boxes carry your birth flowers by the carved windows that are outlined with stone bricks. Around the canopy bed are four wooden posts that look like tree trunks, and the green leaves and hanging vines decorate the top connecting pieces. Your furniture is also made of wood and stone, but is made with higher quality and more carefully crafted. Surely, the handiwork of Yoon’s skills and personal touch. A separate hearth is set up to keep you warm at night, the furnace already lit with a cozy fire, and a window that reminds you of the nursery allows the silver moonlight to flood in.

To you, Hobi, and the others, you see a small, handcrafted cottage that resembles a whimsical garden decoration, located just far enough for privacy but still close enough for you to easily access an entrypoint to the hideout. But like the main bunker, it’s hidden with strong, magical illusions. Anyone else who’d pass by it would only see another tree in the dense woods.

“What do you think, darling?” Hobi asks, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Be honest.”

“It’s… different from before,” you tell him, though you sound uncertain with your own observation.

Hobi hums. You feel his fingertips brush against the skin below your ear and start to caress your jaw. “How so?”

Old memories start to resurface the longer you’re here, and you recall things like how the bed used to be smaller and that the chest that used to be in the corner of your room is now at the front of the bed. There’s now a chair by the small fireplace, and a woven basket full of yarn and fabric. Candlelight and flowers replace most of the toys and trinkets that you used to have.

It’s your room, but it’s not. Rather, it’s a strange contradiction, both new and familiar. Jumbled like a puzzle piece, trying to find its place in your memories.

He’s touching the curve of your neck now, and his fingers stop when it touches a leather thread hidden under your clothes. You step away from him then, nearly shuddering at the sudden emptiness you feel. “It just is.”

You hope to end the conversation there, turning your back to him.

Perhaps you feel overwhelmed, thrown into a new place, hungry and exhausted. But something about the faerie pulls you to him like a pied piper’s song. Your mind feels hazy, but you know that once upon a time, the two of you were friends. Nothing more.

“You still have it,” he observes. His gaze feels penetrating on your back. “My kiss.”

“You’re what?”

Against your better judgement, you turn your attention to the faerie again. The contrast of the golden glow of the fire and silvery shine of the moonlight makes him look dangerously alluring. Your eyes linger on his handsome face, and it’s like you feel an invisible pull. You want to step closer to him, you want to reach out and touch him, you want to be with him.

“There’s something that I want from you,” Hobi repeats, making the move to step closer to you. Standing so close,  it snaps you out of your distracting thoughts. 

You hadn’t realized he said something the first time. “What do you want?”

Hobi smiles and says, “A thimble.”

You’re… confused. Where would you even find something like that here?

“I don’t have one.”

Hobi hums in disappointment. You gasp when his hand suddenly grabs the leather thread around your neck and pulls out the acorn pendant hidden in your top. You grab his forearm, scared he’d choke you with it. The necklace doesn’t fit as loosely on you as it did when you were a child. Even when you have readjusted the knot, the string is short. But you’ve been wearing it ever since you found it inside the sewing drawer of the nursery.

“That’s too bad,” he says, carefully examining the old acorn. It’s discolored and damaged, brittle to the touch. Yet, your reaction is telling – even if you don’t remember why, you know it’s important to you. He lets the necklace go, his fingers lightly touching your cheek as his thumb swipes the bottom of your lip. “I was hoping you’d give me another one.”

You’re starting to think that, perhaps, a literal thimble isn’t what he’s asking for.

“I have nothing else to offer you,” you declare, pushing him away.

The faerie laughs. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“On the contrary, darling, you do. In the end, I always give you what you want, but this time, we’re playing this game differently,” he vows with an arrogant smile. “This time, we’ll do things my way, and you’ll give in to me completely.”

With that said, he kisses your cheek. Then, he exits your room, flying out into the night as the fire in the furnace suddenly dies out.

But he doesn’t go far. When you peek through the window, you see him guarding your little home with a knife tied to his waist. For now, it seems like he’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. But how much longer could you keep resisting him?

Alone, cold, hungry, and scared, you couldn’t help but cry through a sleepless night, grasping the broken acorn pendant in your hand.

“Good morning, Mother.”

One by one, the lost boys enter your tiny cottage, carrying a tray of food and a small bouquet of flowers. It’s roasted poultry, hand-picked fruits and berries, and fresh water in a cup made of clay. It’s simple, but you hadn’t eaten the night before. 

Still, you eye the food with uncertainty.

“It’s safe,” the oldest lost boy – Jin – tells you. He picks a berry from your plate and pops it in his mouth. “See? Not poison.”

“This is what we fed you all the time when you were little,” the second oldest, Yoon, adds. He gives you a tiny nod, encouraging you to try it.

Perhaps you should’ve been more cautious, but you’re so hungry, you scarf it down without a second thought. The boys seem relieved that you’re eating. 

“Did you sleep well?” Min asks, seeming to check if you had any cuts or bruises anywhere. Although Hobi wouldn’t lay a finger on you, Min checks anyway out of habit. As if it’s not uncommon for one of them to get hurt after being alone with Hobi for a while.

“Not really,” you admit. Honestly, it feels like you haven’t slept at all.

As the night settled, you kept hoping you’d wake up at the old nursery, sprawled on your childhood bed that’s a little too small for you. Or perhaps by your writing desk, with your laptop open to a draft of the story you’re in the middle of writing, your vivid imagination gone wild, and your body sore from dozing off. Or even on the living room couch after an afternoon nap, with the late sunlight beaming on your face from the window of your grandmother’s home as she softly sings and waters the plants.

Yet, you’re still here. In this never-ending nightmare.

Curious and saddened looks surround you. They never expected to see you again after you stopped visiting Neverland. Honestly, they must’ve thought it’s for the best that you’ve forgotten them. So much has changed, but once upon a time, you were more than just a friend to them – you were family.

“I know this is a lot,” Kook emphasizes, gesturing around vaguely. “But just know that we’re here for you. We’ll take care of you for once. Right, guys?”

The corners of your mouth curve to a small, appreciative smile at the chorus of agreements that follow after. It feels reassuring to know that you aren’t facing this nightmare alone.

“If there’s anything you’d like to know, we’ll do our best to answer,” Joon adds from one of the very few chairs in your house.

Jin chuckles as he settles on the ground by your feet. “We do have a lot to catch up on.”

So, a story unfolds about you and a faerie named Hope.

Once, there was a boy that was abandoned at a local park. Faeries found him, took him in, and raised him as one of their own. Over time, that boy became a faerie himself, and his newfound abilities aided him throughout his make-believe adventures throughout the land. Under the Fae Court, where his parents ruled as the king and queen, he became powerful.

But the faerie prince was lonely. Thus, the Lost Boys came to be.

It started with one boy. Then, a few more. Little by little, their group continued to grow as Hope traveled between worlds, bringing in other children who’ve been lost and abandoned like him. Each boy carved their initials into wood, threw it into an old chest, and were given a new identity, a brotherhood, and a promise of adventure.

Then, he discovered your grandmother when she was a child. It was his first time bringing a girl to their underground hideout, but she fit in with the other boys so well, he offered to let her stay with him forever. A lifetime in paradise as the first Lost Girl.

At first, your grandmother eagerly accepted, returning to her world one last time to say a final goodbye. But then, she met your grandfather. And it was no longer the childish whims of make-believe that she desired anymore.

Behind Hope’s back, she made a new contract with the Fae Court to have a normal human life again. But it was too late.

She was already turning into a Fae herself, able to see their kind in the human realm. It was dangerous to let her go and reveal their sacred secrets, even if they wanted to take back her agreement. Still, she fought to free herself and protect her family, and reluctantly, she agreed that her freedom would be exchanged for yours. 

The firstborn of the child the faeries could not have.

Your fate was sealed. And after you were born, Hope often came to meet you, to see the girl that was promised to be his. In the shadows, he watched as you started to grow up with your brothers.

Sometimes, he’d think you could sense him too.  You’d pause mid-game or mid-sentence and look over at his direction, as if you could feel him watching you. Your eyes search for something you can’t yet see.

But then, one day, despite how careful he was to conceal himself, you found him.

“You’re the boy in the flowers,” you state, spotting him again by the yellow buttercups. “Do you want to play with me?”

“Sis, who are you talking to?” one of your brothers asks, and when you try to explain that it’s the boy you’ve been telling them about, they both look confused. 

They don’t see a boy with you.

“It’s her imaginary friend,” your other brother whispers. “My classmate has one too.”

“He’s not imaginary! He’s real!” you protest, but when you turn back to Hope, he’s gone. Your grandmother calls for you three to come back inside to eat, and your brothers race each other to get to her first. But you linger behind for a moment longer, looking back at the bed of buttercups where he stood.

But that same night, Hope snuck into the nursery where you and your brothers slept. He stood over your bed, thinking about how you surprised him that day.

At that very moment, he realized how perfect you are. He wanted to take you away from this place. Bring you to Neverland, where you’ll always stay by his side.

When you roused from your sleep, you nearly screamed when you saw the shadowy figure of the boy in your room. But Hope covers your mouth with one hand and signals for you to be quiet with the other, hushing you with a finger over his lip.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper with widened eyes when he lets you go. Though, the chilling breeze from the nursery window answers your question.

The boy before you merely smiles. “Do you want to play with me?”

The chatter around you fades into the background as the boys start talking about the various adventures you went with them after Hobi brought you to Neverland. Some of them, you remember. Most of them, you don’t.

Still, you see images that you can barely grasp. Fond memories of lying out on the grass and watching pink clouds slowly float by, of swimming in a beautiful lagoon and competing on who could hold their breath the longest underwater, of digging up buried treasure and running away with it before the pirates discover it’s gone.

“I’d like to give you a kiss,” you shyly tell him, surely dreaming of the boy you see before you. You’re flustered by your own confession – even if it is a dream. But it quickly turns to confusion when he holds up his hand and waits expectedly. You blink back at him, starting to realize that, perhaps, this isn’t really a dream after all. “Don’t you know what a kiss is?”

“I’ll know when you give it to me,” he replies.

You think he’s messing with you. So, you reach into the little sewing drawer by your bedside and place a small, silver thimble on the palm of his open hand. He takes it, examining the “kiss” carefully, and you can’t help but giggle at how cute he is.

“You really don’t know!” you exclaim, nearly forgetting to keep your voice down. Your brothers are in the room and are still asleep.

“Of course I do!” he bluffs, his hands searching his clothes until he finds what he’s looking for. He hands you back an acorn. “This is yours. My kiss.”

“You still have it.”

“What?” you ask, snapping out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that the room had quieted down.

“The kiss,” Kook clarifies as he nods at the acorn necklace you absentmindedly have been fiddling with. You look down at it, and your stomach flutters when you realize what Hobi meant when he asked you for a thimble last night.

You tuck the necklace under your shirt. You don’t want to look at it anymore. “Where is he now?”

“He went to the Fae Court to meet with the king,” Tae tells you, looking a bit uneasy. Even in this world, the Fae aren’t to be messed with. “His father.”

Your eyes widen at the revelation. You knew Hobi was a faerie, but you didn’t know he was also royalty. High rank faeries have incredible, god-like power. They control the seasons, manipulate the tides of time and age, and grant wishes in exchange for things they deem of equal value.

It makes sense that Hobi is essentially untouchable. He’s the prince of the Fae.

“What does he plan to do with me?” you wonder, thinking of all the horrible possibilities that you’ve read about the Fae. Enslavement, sacrifice, torture, and even death. None of those options seem beyond what he could do to you.

“After your grandmother left, things changed. Time works differently now. That affected all of us as well,” Tae explains, looking over at his friends and how they’ve all grown up. 

“The current king is getting old too and is stepping down,” Yoon adds as he crosses his arms. “They need Hobi to grow up and take over the Fae Court.”

“Now that you’re here,” Jin continues, looking at you with pity in his eyes, “we’re certain he intends to make you his queen.”

“He wants to marry me?” you ask, wondering how that’d even be possible. You’re human. You doubt the Fae Court would accept someone like you as their queen.

“Nothing is more meaningful to a faerie than an oath of commitment – a ceremony that celebrates a union where two people – faerie or human – agree to love each other, even if that’s not how they really feel,” Joon explains with a frown. “And Hobi wants nothing more than to truly make you his.”

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

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[taevbears]

the queen of bts hybrid fics is baaack 🤧🤧

as someone who has worked sucky corporate jobs, i feel deeply for this mc 🥲 but the dynamic between her and JK is so cute 😭 (also not @ his dramatic ass complaining that he’s close to seeing the light bc he’s hungry pls)

“I admire your work ethic. I just don’t relate. I’m only here for that sweet, sweet paycheck.” HIGH-FIVES HOSEOK TOO BC SAME BESTIE.

also 👀👀👀 at this tension between jimin and the mc. honestly, it’d annoy me too if i felt belittled over a damn work project lol 🙃 and ya know it’s serious when the workaholic is threatening to quit than to work with him again lmao 😭

I’M SO FURIOUS ON MC’S BEHALF OVER MR. SHIN OMFGGGGGGGGGGG. Like I’m sorry, if I were the mc, I’m afraid JK would have to hold me back 🙃🙃🙃🙃 (but lol it’s also super cute that he has her favorite candy at his desk 😭)

AND THE PRINTER JAMMING TOO?? oh, mc, it’s just one of those days 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i’m here for u girl 😔 (also HI HELLO @ JIMIN CATCHING THE MC 👀👀👀. where’s JK and his snacks bc oooo things are getting interesting 😏). lol i hope that after a day she’s had, the café that she went to had good drinks and food 🥲

I hope among many of the blue things Jimin has on his desk, he also has that cute cinnamoroll clip he wore on Are You Sure 🥲

MC is stronger than me bc the way I’d easily fold in like 5min if JK looked at me sadly 🙂‍↕️

lmao Mr. Shin better count his days, but oh-ho~ at Jimin initiating that he and mc work together 👀👀 This chapter was so fun to read, and I can’t wait until the next part 🥹🥹

(you're) always on my mind (I)

— pairing: bird hybrid jimin x (f) reader — word count: 5.1k — summary: When your workplace announces that they've decided to promote collaboration between departments, you suddenly find yourself face to face with your sworn nemesis Park Jimin. Your plans to avoid him are quickly foiled as his presence turns the floor into a madhouse, your coworkers all vying for his attention. With so many people at his beck and call, why is it that Jimin is always so insistent on getting in your way?

01 - 02 - Masterlist

Gentle hums accompany you as you flick through the pages on your desk, highlighting the important keywords in your proposal.

Adjusting the reading glasses that are slipping down your nose, you glance to the side to find Jungkook twirling a pen between his fingers, staring at the same empty email as he has been for the past thirty minutes. Working beside Jungkook for the past three years has given you enough time to learn his cues and grow so accustomed to them that you no longer really notice when they happen.

In the beginning, the humming and singing under his breath would drive insane when you were trying to concentrate but you've since come to appreciate it. Jungkook would have a field day if he knew, but the truth is that you've found yourself missing the constant stream of the current top 10 pop songs on the days he's not in the office. 

"Do you need help with the email?" You ask as you flip to another page, tapping the highlighter against your chin as you scan through the words.

The humming – which you've learned Jungkook resorts to whenever he's feeling stressed – is cut off by a groan. 

"No, it's fine." 

You hear Jungkook clicking his mouse before the screen next to yours goes dark.

"I know that this workshop would improve my skill set but I'm not sure how to convince Mr. Shin of the same thing. For a company that's always pushing improvement and development, they sure hate to invest in it." 

"Tell me about it," You let out a quiet snort. "You know I had to beg Mr. Shin for months just let me attend a three-hour seminar the higher-ups had recommended for all the marketing employees." 

You see a mop of brown hair fall to the desk in your periphery, Jungkook letting out another upset sound. You give him a half-hearted pat on the back, quickly turning back to your proposal. 

"I'm hungry," Jungkook whines.

"And I'm not done yet," You reply as you drag your pen across another important section. 

"But it's officially lunchtime–" Jungkook goes silent for a beat as he picks up his phone, staring at the clock until it hits noon on the dot, "- right now! It won't make a difference if you hand in that proposal now or in an hour, you know Mr. Shin never looks at anything until after he's had his lunch."

"I can feel my body growing weaker with every passing second, Y/n, my vision is getting blurry, I can't feel my toes–" 

You roll your eyes as Jungkook dramatically slips off his chair, sinking to the floor between your desks. You place your pen down with a sigh, turning your head to find him already staring at you with wide, pleading eyes. 

"Are you really that hungry?" 

"Starving," Jungkook nods solemnly.

You spare your almost-finished proposal another glance. You know that Jungkook is right but the perfectionist in you hates to leave anything longer than you have to. Still, what difference will an hour make?

"Fine," You concede as you put your pen down, "Let's go get lunch." 

Jungkook lets out a victorious sound as he springs to his feet. He barely lets you grab your wallet before he pulls you out of your seat, throwing an arm around your shoulder to steer to toward the elevator before you can change your mind.

"So, what's the special today?" You ask as you both cram yourself into the open elevator, Jungkook's beefy frame providing some extra leeway from the other workers. You truly have no clue how his business casual attire has made it this long without ripping at the seams, you swear he's only getting more muscular with every passing week. 

"Pork belly," He gives you a sheepish smile.

"That explains the dramatics," You shake your head, smiling back at him.

You both hurry out of the elevator when it reaches the floor of the cafeteria, not wanting to get stuck in line behind everyone else. You pout as what must be a leopard hybrid slips past you, their natural gait so quick you only really catch sight of the tip of their black tail as they round the corner into the cafeteria. You and Jungkook are just regular old humans, so there is no competition there. 

As soon as you both have your food, with Jungkook's plate stacked so high you're worried it might topple over as you make your way through the cafeteria, you scan the crowd for a familiar set of antlers. You give Hoseok a bright smile as you spot him at an empty table, the deer hybrid is always quicker than the two of you to get out of his duties and grab a table. 

"There are my overachievers!" Hoseok greets you as you both take a seat. "Lunch started exactly seven minutes ago, why are you so late?" 

Jungkook lets out a sigh as he gets comfortable next to Hoseok, his chopsticks already loaded with meat as he says, "Y/n is working on another proposal." 

"Ah," Hoseok nods his head as if that explains everything, his reddish-brown hair bobbing along with the motion.

You childishly stick out your tongue, ignoring their laughter as you take a bite of your food. You don't mind their little jabs because you know they're right. You are an overachiever, but that's simply because you like what you do and you take pride in your work. It makes you happy when the ideas you've worked hard on get approved and implemented. 

"I do admire your work ethic, Y/n," Hoseok points out as he stuffs a lettuce wrap full of vegetables into his mouth. "I just don't relate. I'm only here for that sweet, sweet paycheck I get at the end of the month." 

Jungkook gives Hoseok a high-five. 

"Let me guess, you're only here to fund your figurine collection?" You raise an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"You know me so well," Jungkook shoots you a finger heart, one you quickly redirect in Hoseok's direction with a swipe of your hand.

Jungkook lets out an affronted gasp as Hoseok snatches it up, clutching his hand to his chest as he mutters, "That's so mean. I'm never going to give you another finger heart ever again."

"That's fine by me, keep them for your waifus," You bicker back. 

Jungkook ducks as Hoseok laughs, the deer hybrid's antlers getting dangerously close to his face as Hoseok leans to the side. There's a reason you tend to sit across from Hoseok and not next to him - your reflexes aren't as good as Jungkook's. 

Hoseok's giggles taper off into an amused expression as he looks towards the cafeteria entrance, "Hm, there's certainly one person in this company that can relate to your ambitious nature."

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes immediately locking on to the person he was referring to. The other employees in the cafeteria part like the red sea as Park Jimin makes his way through the room, their expressions awed as they take in the hybrid's dashing looks. Today, Jimin's deep dark blue hair is swept to the side, revealing his unblemished skin and pretty features. His large wings are folded behind his back, the blue feathers showing off their purple tint whenever the sun hits them just right. All that to say, you think the most striking part about Jimin might be his violet-colored eyes. There's something about the color that just makes his gaze feel so intense – captivating, almost. 

"Come to think of it, the two of you would be perfect for each other!" 

Your attention snaps back to Hoseok so fast you hear something in your neck pop. You scowl at him, kicking his shin under the table as you hiss, "Do you secretly hate me or something? Don't ever suggest something like that again."

Hoseok throws his hands up in the air, confused.

"I'm sorry? I just figured you might enjoy being workaholics together, gods know Park is just as bad as you are."

"Hyung," Jungkook shakes his head, "Trust me, you do not want to see the two of them together in the same room. Just based on the tone of the emails they exchanged last year during a project, it's obvious they're not compatible. At all. I thought Y/n was going to break her keyboard in two with how hard she was hitting the keys every time she had to reply to him." 

The reminder makes you huff, your chopstick stabbing into a piece of pork belly with vengeance. You had tried to be courteous at first, to collaborate with him in a friendly manner fit for work, but it hadn't taken many exchanges before you realized that Park Jimin didn't deserve that. His emails oozed with cockiness and he always presented his ideas as if they were something you had already agreed on, instead of something to be considered. What you detested the most about that project was that Jimin's proposal was eventually picked over yours. The gloating smile he flashed you during the final meeting still makes your blood boil even now. 

"Oh, my bad," Hoseok grimaces, dropping the subject as he takes note of the displeasure on your face.

You sigh, turning to pick up a napkin as your gaze subconsciously seeks out Jimin in the room. He's made his way over to a table with what must be co-workers from his and Hoseok's department, his eyes forming crescent moons as he grins at something that's said.

You don't manage to look away before Jimin glances up and locks eyes with you. His expression turns smug as he catches you staring, his hand reaching out to cover the female employee's fingers that are curled around his arm. He says something that makes her swoon, her loud giggles carrying across the room. 

Your stomach sours as you watch them blatantly flirt, annoyed with how Jimin seems to have no decorum in general when it comes to work. Even the company couples know to keep it professional during office hours. 

You roll your eyes, turning back to watch Jungkook shovel the last of his meal into his mouth. 

With your appetite officially gone, you dap the napkin to your lips, scowling as you say, "I'd rather quit my job than ever work with him again." 

Shortly after lunch is over, you finally put the last touches on your proposal, ready to go hand it in. You look over the pages one final time, making sure they're all in order and neatly lined up before you slip them into a clear folder. Just as you place your hands on your desk, ready to push yourself up from your chair, the door to Mr. Shin's office unexpectedly opens. 

He claps his hands twice to get the attention of the department, the office falling silent as they all turn their eyes and ears to him. 

"Everyone, I require your attention for a moment."

You relax back down into your chair as Mr. Shin walks further into the office, making sure he's visible to all the employees who are scattered around. He glances at his watch, smiling to himself before he explains, "As of last month, it was decided that the company will be testing out a new work system where employees from certain departments will be moved around to promote better in-house collaboration. This will hopefully bring some new and fresh ideas to our projects and we hope to see your creativity and motivation flourish as a result." 

"We will be welcoming the top worker from the development department, one I am sure will bring a valuable new perspective to our team. Mr. Park, if you will–" 

A terrible feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as Park Jimin strides into the room, a perfectly pleasant smile painted on his deceitful face as he takes his place next to Mr. Shin. Jimin takes his time looking around the room, sharing smiles and soft greetings with the workers closest to him. His violet eyes seem to zero in on you when he finds your desk on the other side of the office, the wings behind his back ruffling slightly. You can only assume it means that he's as annoyed as you are to be sharing the same department.

You can feel your lips twisting into a scowl as you glance back at Mr. Shin, the older man smiling so brightly at Jimin you would almost think he hung the sun in the sky every morning.

"Wonderful! As you know, we have a new big project coming up and I previously asked you all to submit your proposals for how we should best promote this new venture. Although I'm sure you've all been working hard on your ideas so far, I can tell you now that you may scratch that task off your list."

You suck in a small breath, your fingers tightening around the folder in your grip. There's no way Mr. Shin has done something so unfair, it must be about something different–

"Mr. Park had a fantastic proposal, one I believe will take this project to new heights, so I would like to announce that his ideas have been chosen and that we are all in good hands with this new addition to our team." 

Your gaze involuntarily flickers back to Jimin as applause breaks out in the office. The bird hybrid doesn't seem to have looked away from you at all and that self-assured, cocky smile blooms on his lips as he no doubt sees the defeat on your face. 

You don't think you've ever despised a person more than you do Park Jimin. 

Jimin's taunting eyes are momentarily blocked from view as Mr. Shin goes to shake his hand, the rest of the office using it as their opportunity to go greet (or flirt with) their new team member. You look away, finding Jungkook staring at you with a slightly horrified expression.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry, I really didn't think that hour would make a difference," He pleads.

"It's not your fault, this must've already been decided a few days ago," You answer, trying your best to keep the annoyance out of your voice. Jungkook didn't do anything wrong after all.

With a sigh, you throw away your proposal, already knowing you're going to have to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home to keep yourself in check. Crying all night over a wasted proposal is out of the question, especially since you know Jimin would probably gloat about it if he ever found out.

"But if you do feel bad, I wouldn't mind something from your stash," You pout.

Jungkook scrambles to open his secret candy drawer, the one he always keeps locked whenever he steps away from his desk. For a man who works out so religiously, he sure has a terrible sweet tooth. 

You give him a soft thank you as he hands you one of your favorite bars of chocolate.

You sink in your chair, biting into the bar in hopes that the sweet taste will overpower some of the bitterness coating your tongue as you hear Jimin's airy laughter fill the room, the hybrid already more at home than you've ever felt in this department.

Tapping your foot, you internally groan over how slow the office printer is spitting out your papers. 

Your day already got off on the wrong foot. Turns out that drinking a whole bottle of wine by yourself was a bad idea on a weekday and it was with a splitting headache that you had to get dressed in a rush and sprint to get to your commute on time. With no time left for coffee before having to clock in, you've been left to nurse your pounding head down to a dull ache with just some water and aspirin graciously provided to you by Jungkook.

Safe to say, you're not having a good time today.  

So, it comes as no surprise that the printer suddenly decides to jam, the machine whirling loudly as it tries to unclog the stuck paper.

"Fuck, you have to be kidding me," You curse under your breath as you give the machine a frustrated kick. Could your day get any worse?

"Careful, Y/n, or I might have to report you to HR for destruction of property."

The sound of Park Jimin's voice right behind you makes you jump, your surprise causing you to whirl around so fast your own feet can't keep up. Jimin grabs your arm as you stumble back, his hold just enough to keep you from crashing right into the printer.

"Shit, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?" 

It's the genuine worry in Jimin's voice that makes you glance at his face, his delicate features twisted with concern as he looks you over. You find yourself a little dumbstruck seeing Jimin up close for the first time, the words not leaving your mouth as you take all of him in. His violet eyes feel endless as you look into them, the darker hues around his iris creating an absolutely mesmerizing color. As Jimin shifts his weight, you notice for the first time that there are a few scattered feathers slicked back with the rest of his hair. The texture is just slightly noticeable nestled between his blue locks, the color just as deep as his wings. 

It's the sound of hushed murmurs that remind you of where you are, your arm still securely held in Jimin's warm grip. It's impossible to glance over Jimin's shoulder with how high the curve of his wings are, but a quick look around them confirms that you're being watched by two female employees. The pair of them have been following Jimin around all day, disrupting your workflow with their high-pitched giggles whenever he spared them an ounce of attention.

It's obvious that they're not happy that Jimin is talking to you and not them. So yes, it turns out that your day could, in fact, get worse. You have no intention of attracting their ire and certainly not because of Park Jimin. 

"I'm fine," You reply, shaking off his hand, "I'll go call IT for help." 

Jimin's feathers rustle uneasily as you move to walk back to your desk, his gaze traveling between you and the printer before his face suddenly lights up. 

"There's no need for that, Y/n, I'll fix it for you."

The cocky smile he sends you way makes a shiver travel down your spine, the spot on your arm still warm from where he held it. To Jimin's credit, he does seem to know what he's doing. It only takes a minute of him opening a panel before the printer stops complaining and whirls back to life, the rest of your papers slowly being pumped out onto the tray at the other end. 

Jimin dusts his hand off, smiling proudly as he says, "There you go." 

You collect your papers as the last one gets spit out, very aware that Jimin hasn't made a move to go back to his desk yet. You turn to face him, sighing internally as you see the expectant look on his face.

"... Thank you," You tersely say. 

Jimin's chest seems to puff out a little at that. His expression turns smug as he leans in a little closer, the tone of his voice flirtatious as he asks, "If you're feeling thankful, maybe you can buy me lunch? I would be more than happy to accept." 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, you should've known that his ulterior motive would be to humiliate you more. You'd bring him to lunch and then what? He would probably talk your ear off about how much better he is and how his proposal was picked over yours – that he's more qualified for your job than you are.

You give him an unimpressed look back, gesturing to the two whispering employees as you say, "I'll pass. It seems your fan club is waiting for you and more than willing to buy you all the food your heart desires." 

Walking off before Jimin can reply, you ignore the dirty looks the women send you as you pass them by, your sights set on your desk. 

It turns out that today might be a perfect day for checking out that café Jungkook found on the other side of town, after all. 

With each passing day, you're becoming more and more confident that the universe is out to get you. 

It's only been a week since Jimin was transferred to your department but somehow, it has felt like a year. The hybrid is always within your line of sight and the gaggle of people following him around are really starting to disrupt your work and get on your nerves. Not even Jungkook's gentle singing is enough to drown out the constant hushed gossip and giggles echoing across the floor anymore.

You sink into your chair with a sigh, vexed by how you couldn't even escape Jimin's presence in the bathroom. The other women washing their hands and touching up their makeup couldn't stop gushing about how handsome and sweet and utterly kind he was – you almost felt a little bad that they had been so fooled by his faux persona.

Cunning and infuriating would be much more fitting adjectives to describe him with. 

"I think you got an email earlier," Jungkook mumbles, his eyes set on his computer screen. His brows are furrowed with concentration as he types out his workshop request. It seems that with Mr. Shin's increasingly happy mood now that Jimin's around, Jungkook has decided he might as well try to get it approved.

"Thanks."

You click on the blinking icon at the corner of your screen, and a tiny flash of hope surges through you as you notice the sender. Maybe Mr. Shin changed his mind about Jimin's proposal, or maybe he has something else for you to work on, something that will take you far, far away from the office–

Disbelief quickly crushes that sliver of hope as you read through Mr. Shin's email. He wants you to help Jimin. Apparently, some of the preliminary ideas you submitted to your supervisor ahead of your proposal would be a great asset to the new project, and Mr. Shin believes that sharing them with Jimin will strengthen the department's teamwork. 

Grinding your teeth, you find the old files and send them to print, holding yourself back from writing an unsavory reply that would most definitely get you fired. You can't believe you're being asked to help the enemy, the same man who snubbed you of the chance to even hand in your proposal in the first place. 

"I don't want to interact with him," You groan, rubbing your forehead. 

"Who?" Jungkook asks.

"Who do you think?" You deadpan, giving his chair a light kick.

"Well–" Jungkook lifts his glance away from his screen, craning his neck to peer over the divider. "He's not at this desk right now so if you hurry, you won't have to talk to him at all." 

You didn't notice it before, but the office has been suspiciously quiet for the past ten minutes, completely void of the hushed giggles that seem to accompany Jimin. Following Jungkook's lead, you slowly get out of your seat, glancing around the floor to make sure the hybrid is nowhere in sight.

Finding everything clear, you hurry over to the printer, thankful that it has decided to cooperate for once. Grabbing your papers, you beeline for Jimin's desk, hoping to drop them off and get out of there as quickly as possible. Just as you're about to slam the papers down and be done with it, the state of Jimin's desk freezes you in your tracks.

Everything is blue. All the supplies that could possibly be personalized – his pens, sticky notes, keyboard, mouse, even a small potted plant – are all in varying shades of blue. You can only deduce that it's a hybrid thing, something that has to do with his specific species. Or, well, maybe he just really likes blue. Either way, it's certainly not what you were expecting. 

It's the ding of the elevator announcing its arrival that snaps you back into motion, the sound of flirty laughter carrying into the office as its doors begin to open. You hastily leave the files on the side of his desk, careful not to disturb the placement of his things before scurrying back to your side of the department floor. You take your seat just as Jimin waltzes back into the office, the usual group of women and men following him around. 

"You'd think he was a god or something," You roll your eyes.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, way too nonchalant as he says, "I mean, he is handsome enough to be one." 

You turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow as you say, "Jeon Jungkook, did you just compliment the enemy?"

Jungkook gives you a sheepish smile in return, flicking the ends of his hair as he replies, "Beauty recognizes beauty, Y/n, it can't be helped." 

"You're right," You smile, all sweet, "I guess it also can't be helped that I now only have one friend in this company. But since Hoseok doesn't enjoy meat, I guess I'll just how to throw out all of the delicious cuts I got for our monthly dinner tomorrow – what a shame."

"Wait, Y/n!–" Jungkook scrambles in his chair, dragging himself closer to your desk. "I was just joking, you know that right? Please don't throw away the meat." 

You stare him down for a second, narrowing your eyes before turning back to your screen. "We'll see."

Despite your less-than-great eyesight, even you know that Jungkook is right. It pains you to admit it, but Jimin is beautiful. Even so, Jungkook should know not to praise that handsome, winged demon right in front of you.

So, you ignore Jungkook's puppy eyes in favor of your work, giving him a taste of the betrayal you just felt. You can never feign being upset with him for long but ten minutes?

That you can do.

Though, you suppose you should have known that Jungkook wouldn't let you get away with threatening his precious meat. 

"Jungkook–"

You roll your eyes as Jungkook's pout deepens, his head turning away from you dramatically.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'll never joke around about pork belly ever again."

"Do you promise?" He huffs. 

Jungkook only turns to look at you once you promise that yes, you'll never do something like that ever again. His sunny demeanor is back the moment the words leave your lips, proving once again that you were right when you introduced him to Hoseok as a master manipulator. It's impossible to not feel like a monster when those doe eyes are staring at you with all the sadness in the world. 

You slowly begin to pack up your things as Jungkook chatters away about a new anime he's found, doing your usual steps as you log off and power down your computer. Just as you're about to clock out for the day, you hear your name being called from the other side of the floor. Getting out of your seat, you see Mr. Shin waving you over to his office, signaling that he wants to talk to you. 

"You should go ahead," You tell Jungkook as you leave your packed bag and coat at your desk. "I don't know how long this is going to take but I'll text you once I'm done."

"I'm holding you to that!" Jungkook wags his finger. 

You wave Jungkook goodbye for the day as you cross the floor, taking a deep breath to calm your sudden nerves. As you reach Mr. Shin's office, you softly clear your throat, pulling on your clothes to make sure you look presentable before knocking on his door. 

"Come in." 

You open the door as you hear Mr. Shin's muffled voice telling you to enter, the pleasant smile on your face faltering just the slightest as you notice that Park Jimin is already present.

"Sir, you called for me?"

Mr. Shin waves you closer to his desk, gesturing for you to take the seat next to Jimin. You keep your eyes forward, not daring to look at the hybrid lest you accidentally pull a face.

"Ah yes, it's about the new project. We reviewed the suggestions you proposed and decided that they would complement Park's ideas very well. With the spirit of department teamwork in mind, Mr. Park proposed that you would both work together on this project, sharing the responsibility."

"Oh, that's.." You trail off, not quite sure what to say. This was not what you envisioned when you entered the room.

You turn your head to look at Jimin, the bird hybrid sporting an unreadable expression. You can't tell if he's upset with the news or not – you can't imagine Park would be thrilled to be forced to spend time with you – but wait, did your supervisor say that–

"You asked for me?"

"Of course," Jimin nods, "It wouldn't be right to use your ideas without you on the team."

There's no trace of the usual cockiness you've come to associate with Jimin, nor any of that flirty demeanor. To your surprise, Jimin appears to be fully serious for once. 

"Right," You reply, at a loss for words. This was a twist you had not seen coming. 

"So, what do you say Miss Y/n? Would you like to collaborate with Mr. Park on this project?"

Frankly, working with Jimin is the last thing you want to do. But the fact that your ideas will be implemented in the project no matter if you're there to take credit for it or not, is what convinces you to jump head first into what's surely going to become your own personal hell for the next few months. 

You spare Jimin another glance, plastering on your best smile as you inform Mr. Shin that,

"I would love to, thank you for giving me this opportunity." 

The bird hybrid's chest puffs out minutely at your agreement, that sly smile returning to his lips.

You have no doubt that he has an ulterior motive for including you in his project. But no matter what Jimin decides to throw at you – you sure as hell won't be going down without a fight. 

a/n: welcome to this silly little fic! i've been wanting to write something more lighthearted for a while so this felt like the perfect story to do just that 💖 will the mc and jimin survive being stuck together for a project?? only time will tell (actually, you'll know in a few weeks lol)!

i would love to hear your thoughts so far and reblogs are very much appreciated 💖

[taevbears]

Happy Birthday, Yoongi! ♡ (1993.03.09)

[taevbears]

HOPE ON THE STAGE in Seoul D1

[taevbears]

Thank you!! 🤧🤧

lmao fae hobi is going to be a menace to everybody in this story 💀 but yeah, the poor mc’s grandma 😔 she’s just trying to protect her fam but hobi won’t let her forget that she owes him 😬

Acorns & Thimbles - 01

I met the devil by the window, traded my life Temptation touched my tongue, spread the wings of desire

⤑ pairing: hoseok x reader ⤑ genre: faerie au, yandere, dark fantasy ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 5.7k ⤑ warnings: YANDERE/DARK ROMANCE, manipulation, blackmail, mc is often called "darling", faeries are evil creatures in this world lol. nothing too crazy in this chapter but, uh... it does get pretty crazy lmao. ⤑ note: happy birthday, hobi ♡ if i were to have a coin for every time i'd post a mini-series on a member's bday, i'd have 2 coins. which isn't a lot, but it's still funny that it happened twice💀. anyway, i've been working on this story for literally over a year, and i've finally had the drive to complete it! i'm so glad to share this story with you, and i hope you all enjoy!

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03| 04 | 05 (End)

Your grandmother is an odd, old woman, closed off from the rest of her small, quaint town with her little cottage on a hill.

She’s become skittish and grouchy, raising her gravelly voice and cursing animosities in the air. Weary neighbors whisper their growing concerns, bearing witness to her arguments against invisible foes.

More than once, someone had found her in front of her yard, squinting at the ground beneath her frail hands and feet. Alarmed, they’d cross the iron gate to help her up, only to realize she’s there with purpose. Meticulously, she’d count the number of leaves on clovers out loud, grumbling under her breath as she desperately tries to find one with four.

It seems that with her age, her mind is starting to deteriorate. She’d walk around town with her clothes inside-out, leave fresh milk, butter, or cream out by her front door to rot instead of putting them away, and pocket random things like iron nails, red jaspers, packets of salt, and small bells and chimes.

“It’s a shame to see her like this,” one of your younger brothers confides. It’s been decided that your poor grandmother can't live on her own anymore. That she needs someone to take care of her.

“Yeah,” your other brother agrees with a long sigh. “Nana wasn’t always like that.”

In fact, your grandmother had always been so full of life and joy. Despite her wrinkles and graying hair, she was a child at heart, witty with a silver tongue, and made the long stays at her home fun when you were all children. The nursery, where the three of you slept, had a toy box with wooden swords and costumes, a collection of fairy tales she'd read to you all before bed, and a large window with a thin curtain that was always open.

Growing up, your parents had to work a lot and often left you and your brothers under her care. Your childhood is full of fond memories of make-believe adventures for hidden treasures, running barefoot across her lush garden and pretending to fly, and listening to her wonderful stories about mermaids, pirates, dwarves, elves, and faeries.

Your imagination was so vivid as a child, surely influenced by your grandmother and her long tales. Sometimes, you still see pieces of your time at her cottage and your thrilling expeditions of pretend. Fragments of following the leader through the thickets and foliage of a beast-filled jungle, of playing house in an underground bunker and punishing your unruly sons with vile, sticky-sweet medicine, and meeting the very creatures who inhabit the dream-like island located second to the right of the north star.

One of those inhabitants, if you could recall correctly, was a boy.

A faerie, to be more precise.

His skin was golden like the warm rays of a summer sun. Pointed ears folded over a hat you sewed for him one day, and he refused to take it off since. He always had a bright smile on his heart-shaped lips, and had a contagious laughter that could make flowers bloom.

He was a friend to you. Maybe something more.

He'd tuck wildflowers in your tangled hair when you slept on his lap, teach you how to fly and fight so you’d triumph over your enemies together, and come by the nursery window each night so he could sneak you out and take you on another adventure.

Then, one day, the window to the nursery was closed shut. The curtains were drawn together, and you were no longer waiting for him to take you away somewhere.

Because like all children, eventually, you and your brothers started to grow up.

The visits to your grandmother’s cottage became less and less frequent. The memories of that place and that boy long-forgotten like a distant dream.

School kept you occupied through your youth. Then, you attended college and studied hard to earn your degrees. Then, you applied for jobs and worked through shifts. You made friends over the years – ones who aren’t lost boys or creatures from fairy tales – and spend a lot of your time with them. You’ve even met a couple boys that taught you love when you got together, and taught you heartbreak when it didn’t work out. You became independent of your parents and made a home for yourself, and before you knew it, you realized that you had grown up as well.

Both of your younger brothers are well accomplished with their lives. One is married with their first child on the way. The other is studying abroad in a foreign country. Neither of them, however, would be able to take care of your poor grandmother full-time.

So, rather easily, it was decided that you’d be the one to move in and look after her.

It felt like a blessing in disguise.

You’ve become a writer with the intention of creating novels of fantasy and adventure. Instead, you work in a soul-sucking office job, where the company berates young women like yourself and it feels very much like a boys club among the staff. The friends you made, you hardly keep in touch with now, as all of you have become too busy to meet up with each other more than a few times a year. And after a recent messy breakup, the place you shared with your ex is no longer your home, and you can’t afford to live on your own with your current measly paycheck.

A fresh start at a place that you once grew up in feels like a miracle.

You could start all over. Never having to look back at the burdens and troubles that have been weighing you down and keeping you from flying.

After talking to your family about it, and eagerly insisting that you’d be more than happy to take care of your grandmother, you packed your bags, quit your job at the office, and quietly moved away. Gone with the wind as your next adventure unfolds.

“Good luck, sis. Let us know if you need anything.”

Your brother gives you a hug when he drops you off at your grandmother’s cottage. It’s a big change, and it’s been years since you’ve last been here. But as you grab your bags and turn to face the old cottage, perched up on the hill, with an iron gate around the flourishing garden of vividly-bright flowers and lush greenery, the nostalgia hits you like a wave.

Memories of your childhood, your play-pretend adventures with your brothers, and the wonderful stories your grandmother would tell all flood back to you like arms of an old friend welcoming you home after a long time apart.

Your grandmother greets you and your brother with tight hugs and remarks of how you’ve both grown up. It almost seems like she’s her old self again, quipping at your brother and asking how his wife is doing. You let them catch up and take the opportunity to settle in.

Not much has changed from what you remember. The aromatic notes of herbs and teas your grandmother likes to brew still linger in the house. The antiques she’d collect are still on display, and the furniture she has are a bit worn and outdated. Even the nursery that you stayed in as a child hasn’t changed much: the toy box is still there, your brother’s teddy bear is on the bed he used to sleep in, and the window with the thin curtain is still shut.

The floor creaks as you slowly walk around the nursery, reminiscing on the old furniture and dusty toys. Yet, your gaze keeps drifting toward the window and the little latch that keeps it shut.

How many times have you sat by it and daydreamed about that world of make-believe? How lonely had you been to longingly gaze out of it and wish to meet an imaginary friend that’d keep you company? How often have you used it to look at the stars and wish – and hope – to be taken away and leave all your childish worries behind?

Before you know it, you’re standing right in front of it.

You draw back the dusty curtains and let light flood in.

“Don’t open that window, dear.”

You nearly jump in surprise, quickly turning to see your grandmother had come to the door. “Hi Nana. Why not?”

She doesn’t answer. Rather, she simply stares at you for a long moment, almost as if she’s lost in her own thoughts. But her eyes shift. You realize it wasn’t you that she was staring at, but the window. When you turn to face it, you see nothing there.

“Don’t open the window,” she repeats firmly. “He’s been waiting for you to open it again.”

“Who is?” you ask, thoroughly confused.

You don’t know who she’s talking about, or why it would matter when the window is on the second floor. But when you turn to face your grandmother again, she’s gone. 

Your brother left hours ago, and you’ve finally unpacked the last of your belongings after an exhausting afternoon of cleaning, laundry, rearranging some furniture in the nursery, and cooking dinner for you and your grandmother.

She follows you around all day as you catch her up on how you’ve been doing. It feels nice to connect with her again. She’s still a great storyteller and seems happy to be in your company. But there’s a worried look on her face when she thinks you’re not looking as her eyes drift to something unseeable over your shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to stay there?” she asks as you help her settle in bed. She suddenly looks uncomfortable with the idea of you being in the nursery.

“I’ll be fine, Nana. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t open the window,” she reminds you before you wish her goodnight.

Luckily, you can still fit in your old bed, although it is clearly designed for a child. You grimace a bit at the heart-shaped frame and the faded green paint, and make a note to yourself to start looking for new furniture soon. You send your other brother a picture of his old teddy bear, and he exclaims how he remembers it once he had a chance to see your message. Soon, that led you to face-timing both of your brothers and showing them all the old toys and costumes that are all still in the room.

“I should’ve stayed and helped move some of them to the attic,” your brother remarks with a slight shake of his head. “Maybe I’ll stop by this weekend and do that.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like seeing them here,” you admit with a fond smile, opening a tiny drawer. Inside are stools of thread, loose buttons, pins in cushions, and other sewing tools. You rummage through the drawer and realize you’re missing a silver thimble.

However, in its place, you find something else.

“What’s that?” your brother asks when you pull out what looks like an old necklace. Hanging on the black, leather thread is an acorn with a hole in the middle.

“I don’t know,” you reply, holding it up by the thread. Your pulse quickens, your heart remembering something that you can’t place the memory of. Yet, somehow, you know that it’s yours. “Did either of you give this to me?”

Both of them shake their heads and shrug. If neither of them gifted it to you, then who…?

Outside, you hear a strange sound. Like the whistle of a flute. It sounds close, yet far away at the same time.

“What’s wrong, sis?” your brother asks, seeing your perplexed expression from his phone screen.

“I thought I heard something,” you tell them, standing by the window now. Through the glass pane, you can’t see anything, and your free hand touches the iron lock that keeps it closed. Was it a bird? What was it doing, crowing at this hour of night?

“What did you hear?”

“I thought… I heard…” you slowly answer, pulling on the latch and the lock clicks open. You slide it up, and the wind gathers, seeming to assist you at that moment, letting the window fly open. A chill runs up your spine as a cold breeze pass, but all you hear now is the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of a dog barking. “It’s probably nothing.”

The wind dies down, but you still shiver. Suddenly, you remember your grandmother wanted you to keep it closed. You stand on your toes and pull the window back down, unaware of how the shadows seem to shift around the nursery as it shuts with a soft thud.

“Sis?” your brother calls out to you, and you’ve almost forgotten you were still on the phone with them.

“It’s nothing,” you repeat, more to yourself than to them. Perhaps it’s the paranoia of disobeying your grandmother’s request, but it suddenly feels like someone is watching you. 

When you sleep that night, your dream is vivid. More than it’s ever been in a long time.

You dream of swords clashing and cannons firing amidst a grand battle against a ship of pirates for their buried treasure. You dream of a mermaid’s lullaby in a moonlit lagoon, and how she knows all the secrets of the dark waters. You dream of elven wanderers and their ancient traditions, bearded dwarves and their brave expedition into a skull-shaped cave, and a group of handsome men cloaked in animal skins as they enjoy their meal in a woodsy hideout. You dream of faeries glowing like fireflies as they dance together with the moon and stars above them.

“I missed you.”

The voice that whispers is familiar, but belongs to someone you can’t quite put a face to.

“What is this place?” you find yourself asking, sitting on a pink cloud and looking at the island below. A little world that you strangely feel attached to. It feels nostalgic. It feels like home.

And it feels like it’s beckoning to you. Compelling you to warm its cold, icy seas after so many winters without you. To bring light into the world where it’s been so dark without your presence. To stay forever, and never leave this world again.

Someone is with you. A friend, you think. The person the voice belongs to. The one who rules over this world you dream about.

His skin is golden like the summer sun, body lean and strong as he wears clothing made of leaves and vines. A coy smile curves on his familiar heart-shaped lips.

“You don’t remember, darling? This place is ours.”

You wake before you figure out who it is. Or what he meant.

Sunlight shines through the nursery window, and a breeze gently blows in.

You frown as you stare at it.

You’re certain you had closed it before you went to bed. 

For the first time in a while, you open your laptop, pull up a blank document, and write.

You write about the dream you had: the peculiar island and the strange creatures that inhabit it. You write about their adventures, and the magic that faith, trust, and pixie dust can bring. You write about the feeling of floating and how thinking happy thoughts can lift you in the air.

You write about the boy you saw and what you can remember of him.

Then, you stop. The room is silent without the tapping of your keyboard. For a moment, you stare at what you wrote and frown.

Somehow, trying to remember the boy in your dreams feels strange. You can recall the clothes he wears, the way being around him feels like basking in the sunlight, and the small dimples on his cheeks that look like tiny hidden kisses that reveal themselves when he smiles. But you can’t remember his face. You can’t remember his eyes.

It feels like you’re searching for a memory. Even if you’re certain you just made him up.

Was he based on someone you knew as a child? An old classmate? Someone you wanted to be friends with?

It doesn’t seem like it. Yet, whoever that person is in your dream, he must have been important to you.

“This place is ours.”

You save the draft and close the laptop with a sigh. What did he mean by that? And why did it feel like he was actually in your head?

For the next few nights, you have the same recurring dream. You see glimpses of that island: the mermaid lagoon with crystal clear waters, the dark and damp caverns of the skull-rock cave, the giant trees with deep roots that hide hidden houses for faeries and the lost boys, and the grand ship the pirates use to hunt for treasures. You hear the sound of twinkling bells from the tiny faeries, the sound of laughter in the woods, the song of pirates as they sail the sea. You smell the firewood of a large bonfire the elves made, the strong stench of alcohol the dwarves share with each other, the salty air of the island where water meets shore. Your dreams become so vivid, you could almost swear you’re there.

“This can all be yours if you wish it.”

The next time you see him in your dreams, you’re no longer floating on a pink cloud above the island. You’re on the island now. Your bare feet touch the green grass and dirt. You feel the cool, sea breeze against your hair and skin. You see flowers bloom prettily, drawn to the warmth of the person behind you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. Being in his embrace doesn’t alarm you. Rather, it feels familiar, like he’s held you like this before. You find yourself melting into his touch.

When he kisses your cheek, warmth lingers on your face. Somehow, that feels familiar too.

“Who are you?” you ask him this time.

His kisses trail down to your neck now. His lips on your neck are something different, but not unwelcome. A soft sigh falls from your own lips and you feel his smirk against your skin.

“A friend,” he tells you. He places a kiss on your shoulder now.

“I meant your name.” 

He laughs. And something stirs inside your heart, like a magic spell has been cast from the sound. “That, you’ll have to work a little harder for, darling.”

And before you could turn and look at his face, you wake up.

When you dream of him, he’s always just out of view. Yet, always with you wherever you go. Like a shadow.

As soon as you open your eyes, you grab your laptop and flip it open. The document is already on the screen as soon as you log in, and while the dream is still fresh in your mind, you write everything you remember: the adventure you went on this time, the part of the island that he showed you, what you guys did there, what was said.

What his name is…

Your fingers type it out. Without thinking about it, without even realizing what you’ve done. And suddenly, the answer is there before you.

Four letters that form one name.

Hope 

“My darling,” your grandmother begins, sitting on her rocking chair by a warm fire. “Do you remember the rules I taught you?”

You pause what you’re doing. The water in a large pot continues to roll into a boil as the red sauce you’re making heats the fresh tomatoes, meatballs, and herbs.

At first, you think it’s about the window at the nursery. The night you arrived here, you only opened it for a minute before you quickly closed it again. Surely, your grandmother was sound asleep then. She couldn’t have known that you opened the window, right?

“What rules, Nana?” you ask her, adding the pasta noodles into the boiling water.

“The rules about the Fae.”

You stop again. “The Fae?”

“The first rule,” she begins as she continues to rock on her chair. “Do not draw the attention of mischievous faeries.”

“But—” You part your lips, almost pointing out to her that faeries aren’t real. But something stops you. Somehow, telling her that feels like a lie.

“The second rule,” she continues. “Do not tell them your name.”

Names hold power to the Fae. You remember that much from your grandmother’s stories.

“Like Rumpelstiltskin,” you mention, recalling the tale of a naïve girl who gets out of a bad contract she later regrets by learning the little spinster’s true name.

She nods her head. “The third rule. Do not lie to them.”

Guilt starts to creep up on you for opening the window at the nursery. Although she hasn’t mentioned it again, a part of you is paranoid that she somehow found out about it anyway.

“Sounds like the moral of a children’s story,” you comment, half-joking as you finish up making the pasta. It’s nearly finished.

“The fourth rule,” she goes on more sternly, a small frown on her thin lips. “Do not accept gifts, food, or favors from the Fae.”

“Right,” you mutter, turning off the heat of the stove and serving the meal.

This rule, you know as well.

Your grandmother has told you stories of how faeries lure lost souls into the woods, trapping them into their world. Of bargains that don’t go as planned, leading to a price to pay with one’s servitude and torture to the tricksters. You’ve seen strange reports of mysterious disappearances and rings of mushrooms and pebbles left behind, of people entranced in a waltz-like dance as they edge toward the end of a cliff and slip to their deaths, and of people who’ve tasted the food and drinks of the Fae and later find themselves poisoned from the sticky, sweet indulgence.

“And the fifth, but most important rule of all,” she finishes, turning to look you in the eye. “Should you find yourself in their debt, you must give something of equal value in return. Only then will your debt be repaid.”

You sense the worry in her voice, and it occurs to you then that she knows. You had opened the window, let something in that you shouldn’t have, and whatever it is now targets you. The dreams, and now the rules about the Fae.

“Nana, why are you telling me this?” you ask her, helping her to her seat on the table.

“So you could learn from my mistakes.” She is quiet for a long moment as you serve her plate. She doesn’t seem to want to eat as she looks at you with guilt in her eyes. “I have a confession, my dear.”

“What is it?” you ask, settling down on your own spot on the table.

“When I was young, there was a place that I went to. A wonderful world full of adventure. I didn’t want to grow up. I still wanted to play and have fun, and not think about grown-up things like work, bills, and raising a family.” She grimaces as she thinks about how foolish she was then. How she loves her children and her grandchildren more than anything now. “I made a deal with the faeries then. I didn’t want things to change. I wanted to stay the same, but once I started to grow up, I realized that this wasn’t what I wanted anymore. So I made a new deal with them.”

Neither of you have touched your plates. You look at your grandmother with a small frown. “What was the deal?”

“I would take back my contract, grow old and allow time to resume normally again, if they leave my children alone,” she admits with a frown. “I fell in love with your grandfather. I knew we’d be married and have a family together, but that wasn’t good enough. A change of contract means nothing to them when the family I was going to have meant everything.”

You feel your chest tighten. “So, what did they want?”

“They wanted you,” she tells you sullenly. “The first-born of my kin from the child they couldn’t have.”

“That’s… quite a story, Nana.” You’re not sure what to say, or how much of it is true. Things like dealings with faeries, contracts, and such are all make-believe. Isn’t it?

“I just want to remind you of those rules, my dear,” she replies with a sad smile. “Before he tries to take you from me again.”

You don’t believe in faeries.

But your grandmother does.

Perhaps, as a child, you once did too. Mischievous by nature, you’d once claim that they’re the reason your hair gets tangled in the morning when you wake up, or why you seem to keep misplacing your things. Your brothers would call you silly and forgetful, but your grandmother, upon when you had first told her about these minor inconveniences, suddenly looked at you with worry.

That day, when you were still a child, she had tightly held your hand and told you the five rules. The five things to always remember when dealing with them.

However, you were just a child. Following rules seemed boring to you when the temptation of adventure came to your window every night.

In the shadows, the one called Hope would silently watch you as you played with your brothers, jumping on the bed and swinging around a wooden sword as you’d re-tell your version of fairy tales – ones that often involved defeating treacherous foes and overcoming difficult obstacles, but always ended with a true love’s kiss.

Embodied as a boy around your age, he slipped through the open window and personally invited you to his world of adventure. He liked your stories, he liked that you could prove you’re just as tough as your brothers and could fit right in with his group of friends, and he liked how you had a sweeter, softer, motherly side of you as well.

Every time he took you to that place, he didn’t want you to leave. Yet, you always had to.

You’d worry about your brothers when they weren’t with you, or you’d be afraid your grandmother would forget about you and shut the window before you could make it back home. You had school, a family, and a home here – you couldn’t stay with him all the time like he wanted you to.

So, Hope brought between worlds with the condition that you’d come back.

And for a while, you kept your word, meeting him again by the window the very next night.

Until one day, you didn’t.

The nursery window had been shut and locked, and you and your brothers had returned to your parents to grow up and forget. Your promise with the faerie had been broken.

You find yourself with your laptop open again, reading through the notes you’ve jotted down every morning after you’d wake up. Tabs are open on your browser on websites about the Fae, and your grandmother’s illness is starting to make sense to you.

It’s not the air she’s scolding and warning to get away from her. There are reasons she’s seeking protection in forms of four-leaf clovers, inverted clothes, and carrying objects of iron with her at all times. That the dairy and sweets she leaves by her door are an offering to appease them so they won’t cause her and her family harm.

Because she can see them.

Wisps of light that float out in her garden at night, lingering hauntingly until the dawn breaks. Forms of small animals like squirrels, mice, and birds that come to her door for old buttons, pretty stones, and shiny objects. Tiny, mischievous winged humans that can spoil food before their expiration or hide keys and coins when no one is looking.

Faeries.

For some reason, they’ve been harassing your grandmother lately. Perhaps, they’ve been bothering her longer than you thought, angry that she had taken you away from them and that world they wanted to keep you in.

And now that you’re here…

“So, you figured it out?”

You gasped, turning to the source. By the open window, as the ends of the curtains float with the wind, the one called Hope stands before you. Only, he isn’t a boy anymore.

Rule #1: Do not draw the attention of mischievous faeries.

The man before you is tall and thin, with a sharp jaw and a perfect nose. The apples of his cheeks rise with his heart-shaped smile. His skin is golden, glowing warmly like rays of the sun. The tips of his ears are a little pointier, and sunlight seems to naturally highlight his hair and brown eyes.

Faeries, as you’ve researched, come in different forms. Sometimes as small animals. Sometimes as nymphs, sprites, wisps, and pixies. Sometimes, however, they appear to you in a strange form. Human. Visible.

Only strong faeries can do that. Like kings and queens of the Fae.

He looks at you curiously, and although it should alarm you that he suddenly appeared in your room, it doesn’t.

You know him. You’ve seen him in your dreams.

Rule #2: Do not tell them your name.

“Hope?”

His smile widens, almost devilish. “Hope? What happened to Hobi?”

“Hobi,” you repeat, and somehow, that name sounds familiar on your tongue as well. “Is that what I called you?”

“You don’t remember?” He feigns hurt, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head a little. “You sure changed a lot since the last time I saw you, darling.”

“Darling,” you echo, feeling your heart stir at the pet name. You remember him calling you that in your dreams as well. Is that what he always called you?

Rule #3: Do not lie to them.

The faerie moves closer to you, frowning as he looks you in the eye. Your heart pounds nervously as you hold his piercing gaze. “You’ve forgotten all about me, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never—“ you start, but you catch yourself. You have met him. Considered him a friend, even. The dreams, the memories of your childhood. How much of it was real, and how much of it was make-believe?

Rule #4: Do not accept gifts, food, or favors from the Fae.

“Well, it doesn't matter,” he states, finally backing off. “You’re here now. I can show you all the things you’ve forgotten again.”

That paradise island. The one that you’ve been dreaming so often about. A small part of you can’t believe it’s real and not just some figment of your imagination. That this faerie could actually take you there.

“At what cost?” you find yourself asking.

The faerie smirks. “Clever.”

A commotion comes from downstairs. You hear the distinct sound of twinkling, like the chimes of a small bell. Following that, your grandmother’s voice.

“I told you to stay away from me!” she snaps from downstairs. A crash of a shattering plate, flung to a wall. Thuds of other things being knocked over as your grandmother continues to yell at the faeries to leave her alone. Alarmed, you jump to your feet, ready to rush down to help her. But the presence of the faerie intruder makes you stop in the middle of the room.

How long has she been enduring them on her own until they drove her mad? How far will they try to break her until they get what they want? How much longer can she still protect you from them?

Rule #5: Should you find yourself in their debt, you must give something of equal value in return. Only then will your debt be repaid.

You turn to the faerie. “If I go with you, will you leave my family alone?”

“If you wish it,” he simply replies, but his mouth twitches in a small smile. You feel like you’re falling right into his trap.

The commotion downstairs gets louder. Your grandmother is shrieking as she tries to chase the faeries out, her voice desperate and exhausted from their illusions and magic. You want to stop it for her sake.

“If I go with you, will I see my family again?” you ask, thinking about your brothers, your parents, and your grandmother. A sudden wave of déjà vu hits you, as if you’ve asked him this before. You fumble awkwardly with the memory, trying to grasp it.

“What about my brothers?” you ask the boy by your window, looking at their sleeping forms. He doesn’t seem enthusiastic with the idea of bringing them with you. “And Mother, and Father? Nana will surely find out too.”

“There’ll be mermaids,” he tells you, smiling as your eyes light up.

“Mermaids?” you echo, thinking of how amazing it’d be to meet one.

“Pirates.”

“Pirates!” you exclaim, then quickly cover your mouth, nearly rousing your brothers from their sleep. He wants you to tell the ending of your Cinderella story yourself to his friends, and in exchange, he’ll take you to a magical place.

How easy it was for him then, when you didn’t know any better. And how terribly naïve you were, making deals with the devil by your window.

You hear your grandmother shouting your name now, trying to make her way upstairs. The faeries, it seems, have suddenly stopped bothering her. They’ve quieted down, but she knows that something is wrong.

“Forget them, darling. Forget them all,” he whispers, coming up behind you. His lips brushes against your ear as your pulse races, kissing you as lightly as the wings of a faerie. “Come with me, and you’ll never, never have to worry about a thing again.”

Your grandmother’s shouts are getting closer. You can hear her running up the stairs as fast as her frail legs can take her.

You turn to face the faerie behind you. He stands so close to you, you could kiss him. “Never is an awfully long time.”

Your grandmother is an odd, old woman, and there are five rules that she taught you, in hopes that you’d remember them when facing the Fae. Since you were a child, she’s protected you and your brothers from the devilish creatures she sees, from the one in particular that has staked his claim on you.

It would be nice to say she made it to the nursery on time. That all her charms and rituals of protection are enough to repel him and banish him from her home.

But as she opened the door to the nursery, you were gone. Vanished into thin air, just as she feared.

All that’s left is the gentle breeze that blows the thin curtains from the open window.

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

Masterlist | Next

[taevbears]

lmao hobi and i are on the same wavelength bc wdym his tour merch has an acorn necklace 🫣

[taevbears]

˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮ HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOBI! ✮˚.⋆. ݁₊

[taevbears]

Acorns & Thimbles - 01

I met the devil by the window, traded my life Temptation touched my tongue, spread the wings of desire

⤑ pairing: hoseok x reader ⤑ genre: faerie au, yandere, dark fantasy ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 5.7k ⤑ warnings: YANDERE/DARK ROMANCE, manipulation, blackmail, mc is often called "darling", faeries are evil creatures in this world lol. nothing too crazy in this chapter but, uh... it does get pretty crazy lmao. ⤑ note: happy birthday, hobi ♡ if i were to have a coin for every time i'd post a mini-series on a member's bday, i'd have 2 coins. which isn't a lot, but it's still funny that it happened twice💀. anyway, i've been working on this story for literally over a year, and i've finally had the drive to complete it! i'm so glad to share this story with you, and i hope you all enjoy!

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03| 04 | 05 (End)

Your grandmother is an odd, old woman, closed off from the rest of her small, quaint town with her little cottage on a hill.

She’s become skittish and grouchy, raising her gravelly voice and cursing animosities in the air. Weary neighbors whisper their growing concerns, bearing witness to her arguments against invisible foes.

More than once, someone had found her in front of her yard, squinting at the ground beneath her frail hands and feet. Alarmed, they’d cross the iron gate to help her up, only to realize she’s there with purpose. Meticulously, she’d count the number of leaves on clovers out loud, grumbling under her breath as she desperately tries to find one with four.

It seems that with her age, her mind is starting to deteriorate. She’d walk around town with her clothes inside-out, leave fresh milk, butter, or cream out by her front door to rot instead of putting them away, and pocket random things like iron nails, red jaspers, packets of salt, and small bells and chimes.

“It’s a shame to see her like this,” one of your younger brothers confides. It’s been decided that your poor grandmother can't live on her own anymore. That she needs someone to take care of her.

“Yeah,” your other brother agrees with a long sigh. “Nana wasn’t always like that.”

In fact, your grandmother had always been so full of life and joy. Despite her wrinkles and graying hair, she was a child at heart, witty with a silver tongue, and made the long stays at her home fun when you were all children. The nursery, where the three of you slept, had a toy box with wooden swords and costumes, a collection of fairy tales she'd read to you all before bed, and a large window with a thin curtain that was always open.

Growing up, your parents had to work a lot and often left you and your brothers under her care. Your childhood is full of fond memories of make-believe adventures for hidden treasures, running barefoot across her lush garden and pretending to fly, and listening to her wonderful stories about mermaids, pirates, dwarves, elves, and faeries.

Your imagination was so vivid as a child, surely influenced by your grandmother and her long tales. Sometimes, you still see pieces of your time at her cottage and your thrilling expeditions of pretend. Fragments of following the leader through the thickets and foliage of a beast-filled jungle, of playing house in an underground bunker and punishing your unruly sons with vile, sticky-sweet medicine, and meeting the very creatures who inhabit the dream-like island located second to the right of the north star.

One of those inhabitants, if you could recall correctly, was a boy.

A faerie, to be more precise.

His skin was golden like the warm rays of a summer sun. Pointed ears folded over a hat you sewed for him one day, and he refused to take it off since. He always had a bright smile on his heart-shaped lips, and had a contagious laughter that could make flowers bloom.

He was a friend to you. Maybe something more.

He'd tuck wildflowers in your tangled hair when you slept on his lap, teach you how to fly and fight so you’d triumph over your enemies together, and come by the nursery window each night so he could sneak you out and take you on another adventure.

Then, one day, the window to the nursery was closed shut. The curtains were drawn together, and you were no longer waiting for him to take you away somewhere.

Because like all children, eventually, you and your brothers started to grow up.

The visits to your grandmother’s cottage became less and less frequent. The memories of that place and that boy long-forgotten like a distant dream.

School kept you occupied through your youth. Then, you attended college and studied hard to earn your degrees. Then, you applied for jobs and worked through shifts. You made friends over the years – ones who aren’t lost boys or creatures from fairy tales – and spend a lot of your time with them. You’ve even met a couple boys that taught you love when you got together, and taught you heartbreak when it didn’t work out. You became independent of your parents and made a home for yourself, and before you knew it, you realized that you had grown up as well.

Both of your younger brothers are well accomplished with their lives. One is married with their first child on the way. The other is studying abroad in a foreign country. Neither of them, however, would be able to take care of your poor grandmother full-time.

So, rather easily, it was decided that you’d be the one to move in and look after her.

It felt like a blessing in disguise.

You’ve become a writer with the intention of creating novels of fantasy and adventure. Instead, you work in a soul-sucking office job, where the company berates young women like yourself and it feels very much like a boys club among the staff. The friends you made, you hardly keep in touch with now, as all of you have become too busy to meet up with each other more than a few times a year. And after a recent messy breakup, the place you shared with your ex is no longer your home, and you can’t afford to live on your own with your current measly paycheck.

A fresh start at a place that you once grew up in feels like a miracle.

You could start all over. Never having to look back at the burdens and troubles that have been weighing you down and keeping you from flying.

After talking to your family about it, and eagerly insisting that you’d be more than happy to take care of your grandmother, you packed your bags, quit your job at the office, and quietly moved away. Gone with the wind as your next adventure unfolds.

“Good luck, sis. Let us know if you need anything.”

Your brother gives you a hug when he drops you off at your grandmother’s cottage. It’s a big change, and it’s been years since you’ve last been here. But as you grab your bags and turn to face the old cottage, perched up on the hill, with an iron gate around the flourishing garden of vividly-bright flowers and lush greenery, the nostalgia hits you like a wave.

Memories of your childhood, your play-pretend adventures with your brothers, and the wonderful stories your grandmother would tell all flood back to you like arms of an old friend welcoming you home after a long time apart.

Your grandmother greets you and your brother with tight hugs and remarks of how you’ve both grown up. It almost seems like she’s her old self again, quipping at your brother and asking how his wife is doing. You let them catch up and take the opportunity to settle in.

Not much has changed from what you remember. The aromatic notes of herbs and teas your grandmother likes to brew still linger in the house. The antiques she’d collect are still on display, and the furniture she has are a bit worn and outdated. Even the nursery that you stayed in as a child hasn’t changed much: the toy box is still there, your brother’s teddy bear is on the bed he used to sleep in, and the window with the thin curtain is still shut.

The floor creaks as you slowly walk around the nursery, reminiscing on the old furniture and dusty toys. Yet, your gaze keeps drifting toward the window and the little latch that keeps it shut.

How many times have you sat by it and daydreamed about that world of make-believe? How lonely had you been to longingly gaze out of it and wish to meet an imaginary friend that’d keep you company? How often have you used it to look at the stars and wish – and hope – to be taken away and leave all your childish worries behind?

Before you know it, you’re standing right in front of it.

You draw back the dusty curtains and let light flood in.

“Don’t open that window, dear.”

You nearly jump in surprise, quickly turning to see your grandmother had come to the door. “Hi Nana. Why not?”

She doesn’t answer. Rather, she simply stares at you for a long moment, almost as if she’s lost in her own thoughts. But her eyes shift. You realize it wasn’t you that she was staring at, but the window. When you turn to face it, you see nothing there.

“Don’t open the window,” she repeats firmly. “He’s been waiting for you to open it again.”

“Who is?” you ask, thoroughly confused.

You don’t know who she’s talking about, or why it would matter when the window is on the second floor. But when you turn to face your grandmother again, she’s gone. 

Your brother left hours ago, and you’ve finally unpacked the last of your belongings after an exhausting afternoon of cleaning, laundry, rearranging some furniture in the nursery, and cooking dinner for you and your grandmother.

She follows you around all day as you catch her up on how you’ve been doing. It feels nice to connect with her again. She’s still a great storyteller and seems happy to be in your company. But there’s a worried look on her face when she thinks you’re not looking as her eyes drift to something unseeable over your shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to stay there?” she asks as you help her settle in bed. She suddenly looks uncomfortable with the idea of you being in the nursery.

“I’ll be fine, Nana. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t open the window,” she reminds you before you wish her goodnight.

Luckily, you can still fit in your old bed, although it is clearly designed for a child. You grimace a bit at the heart-shaped frame and the faded green paint, and make a note to yourself to start looking for new furniture soon. You send your other brother a picture of his old teddy bear, and he exclaims how he remembers it once he had a chance to see your message. Soon, that led you to face-timing both of your brothers and showing them all the old toys and costumes that are all still in the room.

“I should’ve stayed and helped move some of them to the attic,” your brother remarks with a slight shake of his head. “Maybe I’ll stop by this weekend and do that.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like seeing them here,” you admit with a fond smile, opening a tiny drawer. Inside are stools of thread, loose buttons, pins in cushions, and other sewing tools. You rummage through the drawer and realize you’re missing a silver thimble.

However, in its place, you find something else.

“What’s that?” your brother asks when you pull out what looks like an old necklace. Hanging on the black, leather thread is an acorn with a hole in the middle.

“I don’t know,” you reply, holding it up by the thread. Your pulse quickens, your heart remembering something that you can’t place the memory of. Yet, somehow, you know that it’s yours. “Did either of you give this to me?”

Both of them shake their heads and shrug. If neither of them gifted it to you, then who…?

Outside, you hear a strange sound. Like the whistle of a flute. It sounds close, yet far away at the same time.

“What’s wrong, sis?” your brother asks, seeing your perplexed expression from his phone screen.

“I thought I heard something,” you tell them, standing by the window now. Through the glass pane, you can’t see anything, and your free hand touches the iron lock that keeps it closed. Was it a bird? What was it doing, crowing at this hour of night?

“What did you hear?”

“I thought… I heard…” you slowly answer, pulling on the latch and the lock clicks open. You slide it up, and the wind gathers, seeming to assist you at that moment, letting the window fly open. A chill runs up your spine as a cold breeze pass, but all you hear now is the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of a dog barking. “It’s probably nothing.”

The wind dies down, but you still shiver. Suddenly, you remember your grandmother wanted you to keep it closed. You stand on your toes and pull the window back down, unaware of how the shadows seem to shift around the nursery as it shuts with a soft thud.

“Sis?” your brother calls out to you, and you’ve almost forgotten you were still on the phone with them.

“It’s nothing,” you repeat, more to yourself than to them. Perhaps it’s the paranoia of disobeying your grandmother’s request, but it suddenly feels like someone is watching you. 

When you sleep that night, your dream is vivid. More than it’s ever been in a long time.

You dream of swords clashing and cannons firing amidst a grand battle against a ship of pirates for their buried treasure. You dream of a mermaid’s lullaby in a moonlit lagoon, and how she knows all the secrets of the dark waters. You dream of elven wanderers and their ancient traditions, bearded dwarves and their brave expedition into a skull-shaped cave, and a group of handsome men cloaked in animal skins as they enjoy their meal in a woodsy hideout. You dream of faeries glowing like fireflies as they dance together with the moon and stars above them.

“I missed you.”

The voice that whispers is familiar, but belongs to someone you can’t quite put a face to.

“What is this place?” you find yourself asking, sitting on a pink cloud and looking at the island below. A little world that you strangely feel attached to. It feels nostalgic. It feels like home.

And it feels like it’s beckoning to you. Compelling you to warm its cold, icy seas after so many winters without you. To bring light into the world where it’s been so dark without your presence. To stay forever, and never leave this world again.

Someone is with you. A friend, you think. The person the voice belongs to. The one who rules over this world you dream about.

His skin is golden like the summer sun, body lean and strong as he wears clothing made of leaves and vines. A coy smile curves on his familiar heart-shaped lips.

“You don’t remember, darling? This place is ours.”

You wake before you figure out who it is. Or what he meant.

Sunlight shines through the nursery window, and a breeze gently blows in.

You frown as you stare at it.

You’re certain you had closed it before you went to bed. 

For the first time in a while, you open your laptop, pull up a blank document, and write.

You write about the dream you had: the peculiar island and the strange creatures that inhabit it. You write about their adventures, and the magic that faith, trust, and pixie dust can bring. You write about the feeling of floating and how thinking happy thoughts can lift you in the air.

You write about the boy you saw and what you can remember of him.

Then, you stop. The room is silent without the tapping of your keyboard. For a moment, you stare at what you wrote and frown.

Somehow, trying to remember the boy in your dreams feels strange. You can recall the clothes he wears, the way being around him feels like basking in the sunlight, and the small dimples on his cheeks that look like tiny hidden kisses that reveal themselves when he smiles. But you can’t remember his face. You can’t remember his eyes.

It feels like you’re searching for a memory. Even if you’re certain you just made him up.

Was he based on someone you knew as a child? An old classmate? Someone you wanted to be friends with?

It doesn’t seem like it. Yet, whoever that person is in your dream, he must have been important to you.

“This place is ours.”

You save the draft and close the laptop with a sigh, fiddling with the acorn necklace you decided to wear lately. What did he mean by that? And why did it feel like he was actually in your head?

For the next few nights, you have the same recurring dream. You see glimpses of that island: the mermaid lagoon with crystal clear waters, the dark and damp caverns of the skull-rock cave, the giant trees with deep roots that hide hidden houses for faeries and the lost boys, and the grand ship the pirates use to hunt for treasures. You hear the sound of twinkling bells from the tiny faeries, the sound of laughter in the woods, the song of pirates as they sail the sea. You smell the firewood of a large bonfire the elves made, the strong stench of alcohol the dwarves share with each other, the salty air of the island where water meets shore. Your dreams become so vivid, you could almost swear you’re there.

“This can all be yours if you wish it.”

The next time you see him in your dreams, you’re no longer floating on a pink cloud above the island. You’re on the island now. Your bare feet touch the green grass and dirt. You feel the cool, sea breeze against your hair and skin. You see flowers bloom prettily, drawn to the warmth of the person behind you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. Being in his embrace doesn’t alarm you. Rather, it feels familiar, like he’s held you like this before. You find yourself melting into his touch.

When he kisses your cheek, warmth lingers on your face. Somehow, that feels familiar too.

“Who are you?” you ask him this time.

His kisses trail down to your neck now. His lips on your neck are something different, but not unwelcome. A soft sigh falls from your own lips and you feel his smirk against your skin.

“A friend,” he tells you. He places a kiss on your shoulder now.

“I meant your name.” 

He laughs. And something stirs inside your heart, like a magic spell has been cast from the sound. “That, you’ll have to work a little harder for, darling.”

And before you could turn and look at his face, you wake up.

When you dream of him, he’s always just out of view. Yet, always with you wherever you go. Like a shadow.

As soon as you open your eyes, you grab your laptop and flip it open. The document is already on the screen as soon as you log in, and while the dream is still fresh in your mind, you write everything you remember: the adventure you went on this time, the part of the island that he showed you, what you guys did there, what was said.

What his name is…

Your fingers type it out. Without thinking about it, without even realizing what you’ve done. And suddenly, the answer is there before you.

Four letters that form one name.

Hope 

“My darling,” your grandmother begins, sitting on her rocking chair by a warm fire. “Do you remember the rules I taught you?”

You pause what you’re doing. The water in a large pot continues to roll into a boil as the red sauce you’re making heats the fresh tomatoes, meatballs, and herbs.

At first, you think it’s about the window at the nursery. The night you arrived here, you only opened it for a minute before you quickly closed it again. Surely, your grandmother was sound asleep then. She couldn’t have known that you opened the window, right?

“What rules, Nana?” you ask her, adding the pasta noodles into the boiling water.

“The rules about the Fae.”

You stop again. “The Fae?”

“The first rule,” she begins as she continues to rock on her chair. “Do not draw the attention of mischievous faeries.”

“But—” You part your lips, almost pointing out to her that faeries aren’t real. But something stops you. Somehow, telling her that feels like a lie.

“The second rule,” she continues. “Do not tell them your name.”

Names hold power to the Fae. You remember that much from your grandmother’s stories.

“Like Rumpelstiltskin,” you mention, recalling the tale of a naïve girl who gets out of a bad contract she later regrets by learning the little spinster’s true name.

She nods her head. “The third rule. Do not lie to them.”

Guilt starts to creep up on you for opening the window at the nursery. Although she hasn’t mentioned it again, a part of you is paranoid that she somehow found out about it anyway.

“Sounds like the moral of a children’s story,” you comment, half-joking as you finish up making the pasta. It’s nearly finished.

“The fourth rule,” she goes on more sternly, a small frown on her thin lips. “Do not accept gifts, food, or favors from the Fae.”

“Right,” you mutter, turning off the heat of the stove and serving the meal.

This rule, you know as well.

Your grandmother has told you stories of how faeries lure lost souls into the woods, trapping them into their world. Of bargains that don’t go as planned, leading to a price to pay with one’s servitude and torture to the tricksters. You’ve seen strange reports of mysterious disappearances and rings of mushrooms and pebbles left behind, of people entranced in a waltz-like dance as they edge toward the end of a cliff and slip to their deaths, and of people who’ve tasted the food and drinks of the Fae and later find themselves poisoned from the sticky, sweet indulgence.

“And the fifth, but most important rule of all,” she finishes, turning to look you in the eye. “Should you find yourself in their debt, you must give something of equal value in return. Only then will your debt be repaid.”

You sense the worry in her voice, and it occurs to you then that she knows. You had opened the window, let something in that you shouldn’t have, and whatever it is now targets you. The dreams, and now the rules about the Fae.

“Nana, why are you telling me this?” you ask her, helping her to her seat on the table.

“So you could learn from my mistakes.” She is quiet for a long moment as you serve her plate. She doesn’t seem to want to eat as she looks at you with guilt in her eyes. “I have a confession, my dear.”

“What is it?” you ask, settling down on your own spot on the table.

“When I was young, there was a place that I went to. A wonderful world full of adventure. I didn’t want to grow up. I still wanted to play and have fun, and not think about grown-up things like work, bills, and raising a family.” She grimaces as she thinks about how foolish she was then. How she loves her children and her grandchildren more than anything now. “I made a deal with the faeries then. I didn’t want things to change. I wanted to stay the same, but once I started to grow up, I realized that this wasn’t what I wanted anymore. So I made a new deal with them.”

Neither of you have touched your plates. You look at your grandmother with a small frown. “What was the deal?”

“I would take back my contract, grow old and allow time to resume normally again, if they leave my children alone,” she admits with a frown. “I fell in love with your grandfather. I knew we’d be married and have a family together, but that wasn’t good enough. A change of contract means nothing to them when the family I was going to have meant everything.”

You feel your chest tighten. “So, what did they want?”

“They wanted you,” she tells you sullenly. “The first-born of my kin from the child they couldn’t have.”

“That’s… quite a story, Nana.” You’re not sure what to say, or how much of it is true. Things like dealings with faeries, contracts, and such are all make-believe. Isn’t it?

“I just want to remind you of those rules, my dear,” she replies with a sad smile. “Before he tries to take you from me again.”

You don’t believe in faeries.

But your grandmother does.

Perhaps, as a child, you once did too. Mischievous by nature, you’d once claim that they’re the reason your hair gets tangled in the morning when you wake up, or why you seem to keep misplacing your things. Your brothers would call you silly and forgetful, but your grandmother, upon when you had first told her about these minor inconveniences, suddenly looked at you with worry.

That day, when you were still a child, she had tightly held your hand and told you the five rules. The five things to always remember when dealing with them.

However, you were just a child. Following rules seemed boring to you when the temptation of adventure came to your window every night.

In the shadows, the one called Hope would silently watch you as you played with your brothers, jumping on the bed and swinging around a wooden sword as you’d re-tell your version of fairy tales – ones that often involved defeating treacherous foes and overcoming difficult obstacles, but always ended with a true love’s kiss.

Embodied as a boy around your age, he slipped through the open window and personally invited you to his world of adventure. He liked your stories, he liked that you could prove you’re just as tough as your brothers and could fit right in with his group of friends, and he liked how you had a sweeter, softer, motherly side of you as well.

Every time he took you to that place, he didn’t want you to leave. Yet, you always had to.

You’d worry about your brothers when they weren’t with you, or you’d be afraid your grandmother would forget about you and shut the window before you could make it back home. You had school, a family, and a home here – you couldn’t stay with him all the time like he wanted you to.

So, Hope brought between worlds with the condition that you’d come back.

And for a while, you kept your word, meeting him again by the window the very next night.

Until one day, you didn’t.

The nursery window had been shut and locked, and you and your brothers had returned to your parents to grow up and forget. Your promise with the faerie had been broken.

You find yourself with your laptop open again, reading through the notes you’ve jotted down every morning after you’d wake up. Tabs are open on your browser on websites about the Fae, and your grandmother’s illness is starting to make sense to you.

It’s not the air she’s scolding and warning to get away from her. There are reasons she’s seeking protection in forms of four-leaf clovers, inverted clothes, and carrying objects of iron with her at all times. That the dairy and sweets she leaves by her door are an offering to appease them so they won’t cause her and her family harm.

Because she can see them.

Wisps of light that float out in her garden at night, lingering hauntingly until the dawn breaks. Forms of small animals like squirrels, mice, and birds that come to her door for old buttons, pretty stones, and shiny objects. Tiny, mischievous winged humans that can spoil food before their expiration or hide keys and coins when no one is looking.

Faeries.

For some reason, they’ve been harassing your grandmother lately. Perhaps, they’ve been bothering her longer than you thought, angry that she had taken you away from them and that world they wanted to keep you in.

And now that you’re here…

“So, you figured it out?”

You gasped, turning to the source. By the open window, as the ends of the curtains float with the wind, the one called Hope stands before you. Only, he isn’t a boy anymore.

Rule #1: Do not draw the attention of mischievous faeries.

The man before you is tall and thin, with a sharp jaw and a perfect nose. The apples of his cheeks rise with his heart-shaped smile. His skin is golden, glowing warmly like rays of the sun. The tips of his ears are a little pointier, and sunlight seems to naturally highlight his hair and brown eyes.

Faeries, as you’ve researched, come in different forms. Sometimes as small animals. Sometimes as nymphs, sprites, wisps, and pixies. Sometimes, however, they appear to you in a strange form. Human. Visible.

Only strong faeries can do that. Like kings and queens of the Fae.

He looks at you curiously, and although it should alarm you that he suddenly appeared in your room, it doesn’t.

You know him. You’ve seen him in your dreams.

Rule #2: Do not tell them your name.

“Hope?”

His smile widens, almost devilish. “Hope? What happened to Hobi?”

“Hobi,” you repeat, and somehow, that name sounds familiar on your tongue as well. “Is that what I called you?”

“You don’t remember?” He feigns hurt, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head a little. “You sure changed a lot since the last time I saw you, darling.”

“Darling,” you echo, feeling your heart stir at the pet name. You remember him calling you that in your dreams as well. Is that what he always called you?

Rule #3: Do not lie to them.

The faerie moves closer to you, frowning as he looks you in the eye. Your heart pounds nervously as you hold his piercing gaze. “You’ve forgotten all about me, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never—“ you start, but you catch yourself. You have met him. Considered him a friend, even. The dreams, the memories of your childhood. How much of it was real, and how much of it was make-believe?

Rule #4: Do not accept gifts, food, or favors from the Fae.

“Well, it doesn't matter,” he states, finally backing off. “You’re here now. I can show you all the things you’ve forgotten again.”

That paradise island. The one that you’ve been dreaming so often about. A small part of you can’t believe it’s real and not just some figment of your imagination. That this faerie could actually take you there.

“At what cost?” you find yourself asking.

The faerie smirks. “Clever.”

A commotion comes from downstairs. You hear the distinct sound of twinkling, like the chimes of a small bell. Following that, your grandmother’s voice.

“I told you to stay away from me!” she snaps from downstairs. A crash of a shattering plate, flung to a wall. Thuds of other things being knocked over as your grandmother continues to yell at the faeries to leave her alone. Alarmed, you jump to your feet, ready to rush down to help her. But the presence of the faerie intruder makes you stop in the middle of the room.

How long has she been enduring them on her own until they drove her mad? How far will they try to break her until they get what they want? How much longer can she still protect you from them?

Rule #5: Should you find yourself in their debt, you must give something of equal value in return. Only then will your debt be repaid.

You turn to the faerie. “If I go with you, will you leave my family alone?”

“If you wish it,” he simply replies, but his mouth twitches in a small smile. You feel like you’re falling right into his trap.

The commotion downstairs gets louder. Your grandmother is shrieking as she tries to chase the faeries out, her voice desperate and exhausted from their illusions and magic. You want to stop it for her sake.

“If I go with you, will I see my family again?” you ask, thinking about your brothers, your parents, and your grandmother. A sudden wave of déjà vu hits you, as if you’ve asked him this before. You fumble awkwardly with the memory, trying to grasp it.

“What about my brothers?” you ask the boy by your window, looking at their sleeping forms. He doesn’t seem enthusiastic with the idea of bringing them with you. “And Mother, and Father? Nana will surely find out too.”

“There’ll be mermaids,” he tells you, smiling as your eyes light up.

“Mermaids?” you echo, thinking of how amazing it’d be to meet one.

“Pirates.”

“Pirates!” you exclaim, then quickly cover your mouth, nearly rousing your brothers from their sleep. He wants you to tell the ending of your Cinderella story yourself to his friends, and in exchange, he’ll take you to a magical place.

How easy it was for him then, when you didn’t know any better. And how terribly naïve you were, making deals with the devil by your window.

You hear your grandmother shouting your name now, trying to make her way upstairs. The faeries, it seems, have suddenly stopped bothering her. They’ve quieted down, but she knows that something is wrong.

“Forget them, darling. Forget them all,” he whispers, coming up behind you. His lips brushes against your ear as your pulse races, kissing you as lightly as the wings of a faerie. “Come with me, and you’ll never, never have to worry about a thing again.”

Your grandmother’s shouts are getting closer. You can hear her running up the stairs as fast as her frail legs can take her.

You turn to face the faerie behind you. He stands so close to you, you could kiss him. “Never is an awfully long time.”

Your grandmother is an odd, old woman, and there are five rules that she taught you, in hopes that you’d remember them when facing the Fae. Since you were a child, she’s protected you and your brothers from the devilish creatures she sees, from the one in particular that has staked his claim on you.

It would be nice to say she made it to the nursery on time. That all her charms and rituals of protection are enough to repel him and banish him from her home.

But as she opened the door to the nursery, you were gone. Vanished into thin air, just as she feared.

All that’s left is the gentle breeze that blows the thin curtains from the open window.

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

Masterlist | Next

[taevbears]

lmao thank you for supporting me as i lose my mind over the writing process 😭🫰

Happy Valentine's Day ♡

I'm struggling to finish up the very last part of it (and coming up with a title lmao, so I made a mood board), but here's a super tiny sneak peek on something I've been working on for the past year 👀

“Forget them, darling. Forget them all,” he whispers, coming up behind you. His lips brushes against your ear as your pulse races, kissing you as lightly as the wings of a faerie. “Come with me, and you’ll never, never have to worry about a thing again.” You turn to face the faerie behind you. He stands so close to you, you could kiss him. “Never is an awfully long time.”

A 5-part mini-series | Dark Peter Pan AU | Hoseok x You

1st chapter will (hopefully) be posted Feb. 18th for Hobi's bday!

[taevbears]

Happy Valentine's Day ♡

I'm struggling to finish up the very last part of it (and coming up with a title lmao, so I made a mood board), but here's a super tiny sneak peek on something I've been working on for the past year 👀

“Forget them, darling. Forget them all,” he whispers, coming up behind you. His lips brushes against your ear as your pulse races, kissing you as lightly as the wings of a faerie. “Come with me, and you’ll never, never have to worry about a thing again.” You turn to face the faerie behind you. He stands so close to you, you could kiss him. “Never is an awfully long time.”

A 5-part mini-series | Dark Peter Pan AU | Hoseok x You

1st chapter will (hopefully) be posted Feb. 18th for Hobi's bday!

[taevbears]

thank you for adding movie night 😊

jjk yandere || mis favoritos || 1000/10

10 seconds || @deepdarkdelights

the fantasy || @yoongsisbae

romantic dreams || @kooktrash

tempest || @kooktrash

visions || @trivia-yandere

obsesión || @thvlouvre

movie night || @taevbears

seonbaenim! || @trivia-yandere

polarity (ongoing) || @darkestcorners

the friendly ghost || @darkestcorners

champagne confetti || @pennyellee

lovesick || @angelicyoongie

[taevbears]

Thank you Maggy! 🥺

It was nice to revisit this story and write for them again 🤧 I really wanted them to go on a real date outside of the manor, but, ya know, make it Christmas ✨

Also coincidentally, Namjoon posted a quote on his instagram something like, “time doesn’t heal wounds. it replaces memories” and it was pretty fitting for this one-shot lol. 😅

To Be Loved - Holiday Special

As long as there's Christmas, I truly believe That hope is the greatest of gifts we'll receive

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.2k ⤑ warnings: slight angst, slight description of violence, miscommunication lmao, implied smut, mentions of everyone's favorite asshole (kangdae) ⤑ note: happy 2025! i hope BTS' reunion year has been treating you all well so far! i meant to post this last month, but lol. 2024 was ... a year for me. anyway, i miss this couple and i hope y'all enjoy this belated Christmas gift from me!

Masterlist

It’s a cold winter’s night.

Frosted windows show a picturesque snow-covered wonderland outside the old manor. White ice blankets the forest ground and evergreen treetops, freshly-fallen and undisrupted by the nocturnal wildlife. Beneath the silver glow of moonlight is a hushed silence and a serene stillness, as if time itself has frozen over to take in the captivating beauty of the night.

A shiver runs down your back, and you pull the blanket around your shoulders a little tighter around you. From the tall windows of the west wing, you’re gifted with breathtaking sights of quiet and gentle snowfall, sunsets that paint the skies hues of orange, red, and gold, and dark clouds that obscure the moonlight as night falls and storms roll in.

Seven months ago, you ran away from your abusive boyfriend and arrived at this old and desolated manor. Moss and vines grow upon the sturdy structure, and an overgrown yard lies beyond the iron gate that leads up to it. The floors creak loudly with your careful steps, the wallpaper is peeling and faded in your room, and the antique furniture is chipped and worn. Yet, you’ve quickly learned that this manor houses something very special.

Hybrids.

Creatures that are both human and animal, but are outcasted from your society and treated like second-hand citizens. Because they’re different. Because they’re not fully human. Because they’re partly beasts, they’re treated like monsters.

Ironically, while you were living in your small, provincial town, you felt just as outcasted. You’re pretty, therefore, you had to be Kangdae’s. He treated you like a doll to puppet around and break, and everyone told you how lucky you are. Because he was wealthy and handsome. Because you look good together. Because what more is there to love?

But Kangdae never loved you. And it took coming here, to this old manor, for you to realize that.

At first, you only intended to stay until the bad storm passes. But soon, the exotic hybrids living here started to get used to you. Over time, the old manor started to feel like home. And eventually, you started to realize what love is really like.

Your gaze lifts to above the treelines, and you feel like a child by the window, waiting to catch a glimpse of Santa and his sleigh. And as you muse the thought, you spot something in the sky – a flash of blue-silver.

Soon, a long shadow circles around the manor, and a celestial beast crawls into the exposed opening on the upper-corner of the room. Iridescent scales shimmer with the moonlight, covering his serpent-like body. Long, sharp talons land on the stone floor. Whiskers and beard are dusted with fresh snow. The indigo-colored eyes easily spot you staring up at him in awe.

Truly, he’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen. You have to wonder why he’d ever think of himself anything less.

For half a year, the beast kept its identity a secret, masking his form and forbidding you from entering the west wing. Had you wandered here before, you would’ve found the gold and gems he secretly stuffed in his drawers, or would’ve caught him basking under the morning sun’s rays while he sleeps. You would've seen the traces of his violent anguish, from the scratches on the walls and holes on the floor, and he’d quietly admit it was often caused by trying to suppress this form.

Now, he has nothing to hide.

“Welcome home,” you say to the creature before you.

Then, on purpose, the beast wiggles and shakes off the wet snow from his scales.

“Ah, Namjoon!” you squeal, shutting your eyes and using your blanket to shield you from the drops of water. A playful chuckle follows, and in his human form, Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“What are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed,” he reminds you, quirking an eyebrow. All traces of the beast you had seen before are gone in this form, save for the indigo hue in his eyes. “Jimin will be upset if you catch a cold again.”

The giant hole allows Namjoon to quickly enter and exit the manor in his other form, but it also allows the freezing air and snow to come in. It makes this particular area more dangerous than the rest of the manor, weathered and damaged by the elements. Even with a blanket wrapped around you, you’re still trembling.

“What can I say? I really wanted to see you,” you admit shyly.

It’s only been a month since the night you told Namjoon you loved him. Everything still feels so new – that feeling of love and being loved in return.

Despite the freezing temperatures and the slight dampness caught in his hair, he stands before you, unaffected and incredibly warm. He presses his forehead against yours, and his voice is low as he murmurs, “I came as soon as I could.”

You’re not sure who initiates the kiss first, but something about it just feels right. The feel of his thick lips against your own. The way his hand cups your face with a gentle firmness as he starts to walk you away from the windows and toward his bed. The heat of the kiss against the frost-bitten air makes you want more.

But then, an image of your ex-fiancé flashes in your mind. Just above where you stand is where Kangdae met his end. And even after his death, he still haunts you.

That split-second of him – drenched in the rain, eyes wild with fury, aiming his gun to you and Namjoon – causes you to step back and gasp.

For a moment, you and Namjoon stand steps away. His brow furrows with worry, and guilt starts to swallow you whole when you realize you’ve just ruined the moment.

“Are you cold?” Namjoon finally asks, breaking the silence. He picks up your blanket from the ground and drapes it around you again. You hadn’t noticed it slipped off your shoulders as he was kissing you. He smiles at you kindly, dimples forming on his cheeks. “Let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

You nod your head, unable to find your voice.

It doesn’t feel fair.

Namjoon is the one you want. He makes you feel so safe and happy, and you truly love him so much.

So why do Kangdae’s words still taunt you, making you feel like you don’t deserve to be loved at all?

“Careful, it’s dusty,” Hoseok warns, standing in front of a room that probably hasn’t been entered in years. Tiny specs float in the air as he pushes the door open, and the three of you peek into the dark room to find an old storage space.

Today, the three of you are tasked to clean out some of the unused rooms in the west wing. Your body aches from sweeping and scrubbing floors, wiping windows, and moving furniture around all day. But at least this is the last room you’re assigned to tackle.

Honestly, it’s also a welcomed distraction.

Last night, Namjoon slept in your room in the east wing. You kept apologizing for pushing him away, and even though he did nothing wrong, he said he was sorry for getting too carried away.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Namjoon,” you tell him, feeling even worse.

With incredible patience and attentiveness, Namjoon courted you for months: nightly dates, sticky notes in your books, and flowers by your bedside. He never pushed you into doing anything you were uncomfortable with. And it must’ve been because he knew you weren’t ready for a relationship so soon after what you’ve escaped from.

“Neither do you,” Namjoon replies. You see his pretty eyes briefly glance toward the door, as if debating whether he should stay here or return to the west wing.

“Come to bed, please,” you decide for him, gesturing at the empty spot beside you.

His face lights up as he pulls off his shirt and settles under the covers with you. Your hands have a mind of their own, touching the bulk of his muscles and feeling the warmth of his skin. 

You feel lucky. You feel undeserving.

He sighs at your gentle caresses and closes his eyes. He looks content like this, being this close and enjoying your touch, breathing you in. He takes your wrist and kisses it before he snuggles closer to hold you.

It feels so nice to be held like this, to be safe and feel protected. Even now, you’re not quite used to it. Even now, when you know you should feel happy, you feel troubled.

You think he’s asleep. His breathing slows and his eyes remain closed.

And you can’t help but hate Kangdae all over again. For showing you his version of love so you’d think that it’s cruel and ugly. For being a monster that creeps in the shadows of the back of your mind long after he’s passed. For convincing you that a love as sweet and beautiful as Namjoon’s is only a fairytale.

For making you believe that happily ever afters don’t exist.

Namjoon deserves a mate that isn’t broken from their past like you. It’s a daunting thought that hangs over you – that even though he says you’re the one, you could still lose him somehow.

“I wish I wasn’t so afraid to love you.”

When you woke up that morning, Namjoon had already left. He’s been going into town often lately, so that isn’t unusual. Yet, the dread of being an unworthy mate continues to plague your mind as you fix breakfast with the hybrids and focus on the house chores you agreed to take on.

“Careful, Jungkook,” Hoseok begins, eyeing wearily as the bunny-hybrid picks up a large box. “Some of them are heavy.”

“It’s okay. I’m strong,” he assures him, pausing to wink at you. You smile, fondly recalling how he’d come to protect you since you two ran away together. As he moves around, he hears something jingling inside. “Huh? What’s even in these?”

Curious, you and Hoseok inch closer to Jungkook as he sets the box down. Something inside rattles, knocking together with every movement. You’re certain you hear tiny bells and glass as well. As Jungkook rips open the packaging tape and pulls it open, your head nearly collides with Hoseok’s antlers as the three of you gather around and peek inside.

Round glass painted in deep, holiday red.

“They’re Christmas ornaments!” you exclaim with a gasp. With everything that’s been happening, you’ve almost forgotten that the holidays are here.

Jungkook picks one of them up and examines it. “What’s Christmas?”

Your head whips away from the ornaments to stare at him. “You’re kidding!”

He brings the ornament to his nose to smell it. “I’m not.”

“It’s a big winter holiday,” you answer, wondering if it’d ring a bell. But both hybrids continue to blankly stare at you. “People usually spend it with their friends and family, exchanging gifts, singing carols all month, and decorating their homes with lights and a tree.”

“Ah. It’s a human celebration,” Hoseok realizes.

“Well, sure, but… you guys never celebrated it?” you ask with a frown. You imagine they’d have fun eating a big feast together, playing winter-themed party games, and opening each other’s presents.

But then, why would they?

As hybrids, some of their Christmases were locked up in a cage, freezing in the cold. Or trying to survive the harsh winter while running away from hunters trying to capture and sell them. Some are put to work, gifted away like toys, or treated like spectacles at a fancy party. At best, it’s another day, though relatively quiet with humans going out of town to be with their loved ones.

“I’ve never celebrated Christmas before,” Jungkook admits.

“Me neither,” Hoseok says, sweeping the floor again. “I don’t think any of us ever had a proper Christmas before.”

An idea strikes you just then. The two hybrids watch as you open another box. Then, another. You’re delighted to see that they’re all Christmas decorations.

“Well,” you decide with a smile, carrying one of them out of the room. “That’s going to change this year.”

“What’s all this?” Yoongi asks from behind you, watching as you carefully wrap garland around the stair rail.

“Christmas,” Jimin answers on your behalf as he hangs eight stockings over the fireplace. 

When you, Hoseok, and Jungkook pulled out boxes of decorations from the storage room, it caught the attention of the other hybrids. Soon, you have Seokjin and Taehyung bickering about where to put the giant tree they found, Hoseok trying not to get his antlers tangled with tinsel and garland, Jungkook playing with the nutcrackers, and Jimin helping you decorate.

“Do you want to help?” you ask the leopard-hybrid. You glance at one of the boxes and suggest, “You can put up the wreaths on the doors.”

He picks one up and tilts his head, his ears flickering a bit. “Does Namjoon know we’re doing this?”

You pause what you’re doing, eyes widening with a mild panic. “Would Namjoon have a problem with this?”

“Not when it’s your suggestion,” Jimin replies, his feathers bristling with pride as he steps back to admire his work. “You’re his mate.”

“Either way, it’s a nice change of scenery,” Seokjin adds as he and Taehyung finally agree on a spot for the tree.

Your smile fades a bit. The insecurity that you’ve tried to keep at bay rises again. “I don’t know if I’m a good mate for him.”

Your voice is so quiet, you didn’t think they’d hear you. But all six of them whip their heads toward you, appalled.

“WHAT?” Taehyung shouts so loud, he startles you.

“Why would you say that? Did Namjoon say something to you?” Seokjin sputters, looking ready to scold the younger hybrid, despite Namjoon being the leader of their pack.

“No, it’s not that. He’s been so good to me. You all have,” you assure them. Seven months ago, the hybrids residing at the manor treated you like an outsider – a threat lingering in their territory. Things are completely different now that they consider you a friend.

“Then what’s wrong?” Yoongi gently asks.

“Kangdae,” you answer, and you practically feel the hostility in the air at the mere mention of his name. “I’ve been with him for so long, I don’t think I know how to love.”

To love and to be loved in return. It’s still so foreign to you.

“These days, Namjoon is the happiest I’ve ever seen him,” Jimin mentions. He takes the garland from you and starts to finish the rest, weaving it around the railing. “Even though he knows you’re his mate, he didn’t think you’d accept him. He always worried that he’d scare you off. That once you saw what kind of hybrid he is, you’d only see him as a monster.”

“I never thought of him as a monster.”

“I know you don’t, but Namjoon still worries about that sometimes. You’re human. You don’t feel that pull toward your mate like hybrids do when they find each other. You don’t feel that same certainty Namjoon felt the moment he first saw you.” Jimin looks in your eyes as he adds, “But that doesn’t make you a bad mate.”

“You’re meant to be loved,” Taehyung tells you, pulling you into a bear hug as you wipe your tears away. “And Namjoon is meant to be loved by you, too. Sometimes, the both of you need a reminder of that.”

Christmas is your favorite holiday.

As a child, you and your siblings would wake up your parents on Christmas morning with the joy of seeing presents from Santa under the tree. You’d spend the night before baking cookies and watching feel-good movies, and sometimes your father would take you all out to play in the snow and skate on the frozen lake.

Even as you grew older, you still enjoyed wrapping presents, decorating the tree, and humming your favorite Christmas songs as you cooked and cleaned. Even during the long, bleak years you’ve spent with Kangdae, you always looked forward to the time of year where everything is a little more joyful and merrier.

All day, you and the hybrids have been busy decorating the whole manor. Red and green are adorn in every corner, from the stockings neatly lined up on the mantle to the garlands of pine and holly hanging over arches and wrapped around stair rails. The tree that Seokjin and Taehyung brought in is heavily decorated with shimmering ornaments and ribbons, and on the top of the tree is a glimmering star that shines above the balls and lights. The wreaths that Yoongi hung up are placed on the doorways, and the nutcrackers that Jungkook grabbed are displayed on the shelves.

You step back in admiration, proud of what you’ve all accomplished. “Good job, everyone! The manor looks beautiful.”

An old grandfather clock tolls in the hour.

Seokjin looks over at Yoongi. “We should get started on dinner.”

“Yeah, it’s already late,” Yoongi agrees as the two begin to head toward the kitchen. Jungkook offers to help, trailing after the two.

“We’re going to check on the garden,” Hoseok informs as he, Jimin, and Taehyung plan to leave together as well. “Namjoon should be at his study.”

You look surprised. “Namjoon is home?”

Usually, he’d greet you as soon as he came back from his trips. But you don’t think much of it as you thank Hoseok and make your way toward the west wing.

Sure enough, you find him in his study. A fireplace is lit, cackling softly with a warm and inviting glow. The flicker of flames makes the shadows of the room dance, and Namjoon sits on a velvet chair by the fire, staring at the hearth. On an end table beside him is a tray with a container of whiskey and a half-filled glass.

Another memory flashes in your mind. Anger and alcohol, glass shattering by your head, and Kangdae storming away for the night while you cried. It scared you whenever Kangdae drank, but you don’t feel nervous at all when Namjoon does.

“Hey, when did you come back?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Not long,” he answers without looking at you. He seems sad.

You watch as he grabs the glass and finishes it in one go. “Did something happen?”

Before you could step closer, he suddenly stands. The clink of the glass on the tray fills the tense silence. Despite the glow of the fire, you catch the tinge of redness in his cheeks, and a glimpse of his watery eyes.

You close the distance, touching his face and asking what’s wrong. Rather than answering, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his chest. You feel him breathe you in, as if having you in his arms helps him calm down and eases his worries.

Then, after a while, he states, “You’re not scared.”

“I’m not,” you confirm, a little confused why he thinks you would be. “I never am when I’m with you.” 

The memories of all that you’ve been through linger in the back of your mind, but being in Namjoon’s arms now, feeling safe and protected, feeling warm and loved – it reminds you that this is what love is supposed to feel like.

You are meant to be loved.

He doesn’t say anything for a while again. He simply rests his chin on top of your head, and just as you were about to speak, he suddenly asks, “Do you want to spend the evening with me?”

You lift your head to look at him. “Of course I do. Always.”

He smiles a little. Just enough that the dimples you love form on his cheeks. “Okay. Get ready and wear something warm.”

“Something warm?”

“I want to take you on a real date this time.”

It’s been months since you’ve been to a town, surrounded by other humans who are enjoying their night.

Fried food, grilled meat, and fresh pastries linger from the market stalls, all decorated for the festivities as sellers are busy handing treats shaped like snowmen and reindeer or seasonal spiced drinks. A live band performs Christmas tunes on a stage. Little shops with trinkets and homemade ornaments and accessories pitch their products as the perfect gifts for the year. In the center is a huge Christmas tree, its branches heavy with silver and gold ornaments, red ribbons, and colorful fairy lights.

“Wow…” You marvel at the sights and sounds before you, a bit winded after Namjoon flew you here in his other form.

Namjoon glances at the look on your face and smiles to himself before pushing up a thick pair of sunglasses over his indigo eyes. With them, he blends in like any other human. Even if it is a bit odd for him to wear those glasses at this time of night.

Excited, you take his hand and he lets you lead him to whatever catches your attention. The two of you stop by every open stall, admiring the trinkets, sampling food, and buying small gifts you’d think the other hybrids would like. You pick out some clothes at a thrift shop for yourself and the hybrids, and you’re genuinely impressed with every outfit Namjoon tries on and shows off to you. At a convenience store, Namjoon helps you carry a bag full of ramen, pastries, and snacks you hadn't realized you missed until you saw them. And as the night gets later and the air grows colder, the two of you end up at a table in a small, crowded restaurant.

“This was really fun, Namjoon,” you state, scooping a spoonful of dessert as you admire your haul. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Namjoon reaches across the table to hold your hand. “I’m glad. We can come here more often if you’d like. No one is looking for you anymore.”

You glance around the lively restaurant. TV monitors are showing Christmas specials instead of missing person reports. Families with small children, couples on a date, and friends making toasts and exchanging gifts are sitting on the tables around you. To them, you and Namjoon are just any other couple enjoying their night.

It’s a kind of freedom you’ve never really thought about.

Before you met Kangdae, you were nobody. Just a quiet girl that loved to hide away from the world and read her books. People found you odd for that. You never quite fit in with the rest of the people in town.

Dating a man like Kangdae placed you on everyone’s radar. He was handsome, popular, and wealthy – a monster disguised as a prince. Although he only sought you out because you’re beautiful, he kept you around because together, you were something. A spectacle. A power couple meant to inherit the wealth and influence his parents had over the town. It didn’t matter what he did behind closed doors, as long as he’s seen as a doting boyfriend in the eyes of the public. As long as you did your part and pretended to be happy.

Now, Kangdae is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. He isn’t trying to look for you and drag you back to that miserable life. Without him, you’re nobody again. You’re free.

That’s the greatest gift you could ever ask for.

“Could we?” you ask, hopeful. 

Already, you’re thinking of so many possibilities. Museum dates where he’d excitedly ramble about his favorite art pieces. Tiny concert halls where singers perform to a small, intimate crowd, and you and Namjoon are part of the audience. Coffee shops and bookstores, and cakes that are too cute and pretty to eat.

“Of course,” he replies, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. It’s hard to read his face when he adds, “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

Behind his sunglasses, you can feel his stare. “I don’t scare you?”

You frown, wondering where this is coming from. Again, you confirm, “You never scared me, Namjoon.”

“I want to believe you.”

But he doesn’t.

He always worried that he’d scare you off. That once you saw what kind of hybrid he is, you’d only see him as a monster.

Did something happen? Did you do something to upset him earlier? Was that why he seemed so sad when you greeted him at his study?

“Namjoon, what—?”

“Would you like me to bring anything else?” a waitress interrupts, eyeing on the finished plates and drinks on your table.

“No,” Namjoon tells her, giving her a polite smile as he takes out his wallet to pay for the meal. “That’s all.”

The hybrids are still awake when you and Namjoon arrive back at the manor. You barely step inside before strong arms engulf you in a hug.

“Welcome home!” Jungkook greets you.

Jimin smirks as he looks between you and Namjoon. “How was your date?”

Taehyung grabs a bag of snacks you got for them and peers inside. “What’s all this?”

“Give them some space, guys,” Seokjin lightly scolds them, shooing the youngest hybrids away from the door.

“Whoa, you brought a lot of stuff!” Hoseok exclaims as Namjoon helps you carry in your bags.

“Most of them are for you guys,” Namjoon explains, moving them away before Hoseok could take them.

“For us?” Yoongi questions, turning his attention to you. “What for?”

“It’s Christmas,” you remind them, letting Jungkook go so you could help bring your gifts upstairs.

Taehyung frowns. “But we didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s not the point,” you assure them, seeing their pinned ears and pouty lips. “It’s about being kind to each other. To celebrate the end of a long year together. To make your loved ones happy.”

You look at Namjoon then, but he’s already walking up the stairs. 

He makes you so happy. You’re afraid of messing things up. 

Part of you feels like, somehow, you already have.

It’s nearly midnight when you walk the empty halls of the east wing and head straight to the west side. You had a full day cleaning, decorating, and going on that date in town with Namjoon. You’ll have another full day wrapping presents, preparing party games and activities, and cooking a full feast. 

Then, it’ll be Christmas.

But the further you get to the west wing, the louder you hear it. The howls of the wind. The growls of a beast.

Namjoon is in his other form when you open the door to the master bedroom. He looks like he’s about to take off for the night, facing the opening in the corner of the room. 

“You’re leaving?”

Caught off guard, his eyes widen and he stops himself from jumping through the exposed ceiling. He backs away from where the moonlight touches, sinking into the shadows to hide. But then, as if reminding himself that he no longer has to hide from you, he reluctantly steps back under the silver glow of moonlight.

Despite how intimidating he looks, the beast within him is nervous around you.

It makes your heart drop.

“It’s okay. Come here.” 

You step closer to the beast as well, petting his snout and admiring the way his scales shine under the light. He watches you carefully, ready to back off at the slightest hint of fear or discomfort.

But you’re calm. Dare to say, even affectionate.

He closes his eyes and sighs. Even in this form, he seems content with your touch, of being this close to you. Your laugh breaks the silence when he nudges your hand for more.

“I’m sorry if I made you sad, Namjoon,” you tell him after a while. “I worry all the time that I’m not a good mate to you.”

His eyes fly open as something connects for him. Namjoon is back in his human form, but the surprise doesn’t leave his face. “Is that what you meant when you said you were afraid to love me?”

And suddenly, his distant behavior makes sense. All this time, he thought you were afraid of him. That his worst fear has come, and you’d refuse to be with him.

“The only thing I’m afraid of is that I can’t make you happy, Namjoon.”

“Impossible,” Namjoon says as his hand cups your face. “To be loved by you is the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”

It’s a cold winter’s day, but in the western wing of the old manor, you’re incredibly warm.

Sunlight peers through the tall windows and the exposed ceiling. The crisp air bites your skin as you stretch and yawn, arms popping from the layers of blankets over you. A chuckle catches your attention, and you turn to see Namjoon is already awake. There’s a soft expression on his face as he lies next to you, forlorn with a dimpled smile and so much love in his beautiful eyes.

“Good morning,” he greets you, his voice low and sleepy.

“Morning,” you whisper back, smiling as he leans down to kiss you. It feels nice. Reassuring. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. You’re beautiful even when you’re sleeping,” he tells you, distracted as his head lowers to kiss your neck, your collarbone, the top of your breasts. The blankets that he put over you last night slip around your bare body, unwrapping you like a present. His voice, somehow, becomes huskier as he adds, “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you easily reply, shivering with pleasure at the contrast between the heat of your mate’s body and the cold, winter morning. With the anticipation of continuing where you left off last night, where, for once, loving felt easy. With Namjoon trailing kisses down your body and, with a dimpled smile, promising to warm you up.

And even if Kangdae’s voice still lingers in the back of your mind, claiming that you don’t deserve to be this happy, Namjoon quells it to a faint whisper.

Because with Namjoon, you’ll always be loved.

“You didn’t come to your room last night,” Yoongi observes, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Your face heats up a bit. “I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me.”

“You’re human, but you’re one of us,” Seokjin casually explains as he places mugs of hot chocolate in front of you and Jungkook. “It’s in our instincts to look out for our pack.”

“Plus, you have Namjoon’s scent all over—”

“Enough,” Namjoon cuts in, perhaps just as flustered as you are. Yoongi just smirks and takes another sip of his coffee.

“I’m glad you two talked things out,” Jimin pushes anyway, grabbing a pastry that you got for them from the town. He throws a wink at you, black feathers bristling with pride. 

The bear-hybrid nods his head. “Yeah, I was worried Namjoon would never—”

“Taehyung!” Hoseok interrupts, not-so subtly gesturing at your hand. 

You hold it up, confused. You don’t see anything wrong with your hands. Jungkook takes your hand and examines it, also wondering what they mean. But chaos already erupted as the other hybrids yell over each other while, across from you, Namjoon lets out a long, heavy sigh.

Christmas is your favorite holiday, and on a cold, winter’s day, you celebrate it with the hybrids at the old manor. The decorations and the tree bring in the festive spirit as you hand them the gifts you wrapped: clothes, snacks, board games, vinyls, and other things you thought they’d like. A feast of meat, stews, poultry, roasted vegetables, and dessert were served. Games were played by the warmth of the fireplace and outside in the snow. And while the hybrids take turns singing karaoke in the game room, Namjoon takes your hand and pulls you away from everyone.

“Close your eyes,” he directs with a nervous smile. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, closing your eyes anyway. It feels a bit reminiscent of your first date with him, and he guides you to where he wants to take you. Your footsteps echo around the empty halls as rooms, as the voices of the other hybrids grow fainter.

It’s just you and Namjoon.

“You know,” he begins, opening a door and helping you down the small steps. “I’ve been picking up some shifts around the towns, and saving up some money.”

“It’s that why you’ve been so busy lately?”

“Yes, but I think it’ll be worth it,” he says, stopping you when the two of you reach your destination. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that you’re in his garden. The floral fragrance fills the air the moment you step inside the greenhouse. “I got you a present too.”

“You did?”

“It’s not much, but I redid this place for tonight,” he continues, moving behind you and allowing you to open your eyes.

When you do, you’re met with the full bloom of winter flowers and the soft, gentle glow of fairy lights that rival the twinkling stars in the night sky. Frosty windows and snow-covered grounds indicate the freezing temperature outside, but in here – inside the greenhouse – it’s warm. And the iridescent petals of the smeraldo flowers catch your attention. Between the strings of light and the moon, they reflect a magical shine.

Namjoon told you once that they mean “the truth untold.”

But now, there’s nothing to hide.

You turn to face Namjoon, meaning to tell him how his flowers have grown so beautifully. Or how adding the lights is such a nice touch to his little sanctuary.

But the words are lost to you when you turn around and see the look on his face. The gentle admiration in his eyes as he leans against a table.

“What is it?” you ask shyly.

“I was just thinking… Well, actually, I’ve thought about this for a while,” he begins to nervously babble. “I never thought we’d see each other again after you helped me on that stage all those years ago. I thought I lost you for good when you left the manor before I could tell you how much you mean to me. Even now, I wonder if staying at the manor is enough to keep you with me. If five, ten, twenty years from now, you’ll still be at my side.”

“I think I would,” you answer with such certainty. “To be loved by you is the greatest gift I could ever ask for as well.”

“Is that a promise?”

You watch as Namjoon gets off the table and slowly goes down on one knee. In his hand is a velvet box, carrying a ring – simple, pretty. How long has Namjoon been looking for work to save up for this? How long has he kept it with him, waiting for the right moment to finally ask you?

“I love you,” he continues, “and if you’ll have me, will you marry–”

You kiss him before he has a chance to finish his question.

“Oh, Taehyung, this is a perfect view!” you exclaim, smiling at the bear-hybrid. He swipes at his nose and shrugs, but it’s obvious on his face that he’s proud of the spot he found.

The eight of you are settled around a small campfire on the outskirts of a lively town. Seokjin and Jungkook disappear briefly to gather more wood for the fire – their bickering and teasing still within ear-shot to let you know they haven’t wandered too far. Yoongi immediately claims one of the foldable chairs and pours a bottle of cheap wine in a plastic glass. Taehyung sits on the cooler next to him, making a face of disgust when Yoongi lets him take a sip of his drink. Jimin neatly lays out the food on the picnic blanket, and Hoseok snaps pictures on a polaroid camera and shakes the film that prints out.

It’s the last day of the year. And within a few hours, a new day will begin.

You cozy up with Namjoon by the fire, captivated by the way the flames dance before you. It’s warm light catches the diamond on your engagement ring, and for maybe the hundredth time this week, you hold out your hand to admire it.

“I love you,” Namjoon whispers, kissing your temple. You whole-heartedly accepted him for what he is, and see all the good in him on days he only sees the ugly. You make his days feel less lonely, sharing your love for books, art, and nature with him. You take care of his pack; you brought Christmas to them. You stood up for him when he still called himself Rap Monster. How could he not fall in love with you?

“I love you, too. Always,” you reply, turning to kiss him. The way his lips feel against yours just feels right. Perfect.

Christmas is over, and after staying up with the hybrids by the warmth of the fire, you see the lively town below shooting fireworks to ring in the new year.

You and the hybrids toast and cheer, and grab each other for tight hugs and well wishes. The past year, you’ve rescued Jungkook, ran away from Kangdae, and started living with the others. Last year, you told Namjoon that you loved him, and the ring on your finger symbolizes that he loves you as well – that he’ll promise to protect and cherish you.

And as you find yourself back in Namjoon’s arms, sharing your first kiss with him for the year, you can’t help but feel like this is it.

This is what love is really like.

This is your happily ever after.

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

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - Holiday Special

As long as there's Christmas, I truly believe That hope is the greatest of gifts we'll receive

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.2k ⤑ warnings: slight angst, slight description of violence, miscommunication lmao, implied smut, mentions of everyone's favorite asshole (kangdae) ⤑ note: happy 2025! i hope BTS' reunion year has been treating you all well so far! i meant to post this last month, but lol. 2024 was ... a year for me. anyway, i miss this couple and i hope y'all enjoy this belated Christmas gift from me!

Masterlist

It’s a cold winter’s night.

Frosted windows show a picturesque snow-covered wonderland outside the old manor. White ice blankets the forest ground and evergreen treetops, freshly-fallen and undisrupted by the nocturnal wildlife. Beneath the silver glow of moonlight is a hushed silence and a serene stillness, as if time itself has frozen over to take in the captivating beauty of the night.

A shiver runs down your back, and you pull the blanket around your shoulders a little tighter around you. From the tall windows of the west wing, you’re gifted with breathtaking sights of quiet and gentle snowfall, sunsets that paint the skies hues of orange, red, and gold, and dark clouds that obscure the moonlight as night falls and storms roll in.

Seven months ago, you ran away from your abusive boyfriend and arrived at this old and desolated manor. Moss and vines grow upon the sturdy structure, and an overgrown yard lies beyond the iron gate that leads up to it. The floors creak loudly with your careful steps, the wallpaper is peeling and faded in your room, and the antique furniture is chipped and worn. Yet, you’ve quickly learned that this manor houses something very special.

Hybrids.

Creatures that are both human and animal, but are outcasted from your society and treated like second-hand citizens. Because they’re different. Because they’re not fully human. Because they’re partly beasts, they’re treated like monsters.

Ironically, while you were living in your small, provincial town, you felt just as outcasted. You’re pretty, therefore, you had to be Kangdae’s. He treated you like a doll to puppet around and break, and everyone told you how lucky you are. Because he was wealthy and handsome. Because you look good together. Because what more is there to love?

But Kangdae never loved you. And it took coming here, to this old manor, for you to realize that.

At first, you only intended to stay until the bad storm passes. But soon, the exotic hybrids living here started to get used to you. Over time, the old manor started to feel like home. And eventually, you started to realize what love is really like.

Your gaze lifts to above the treelines, and you feel like a child by the window, waiting to catch a glimpse of Santa and his sleigh. And as you muse the thought, you spot something in the sky – a flash of blue-silver.

Soon, a long shadow circles around the manor, and a celestial beast crawls into the exposed opening on the upper-corner of the room. Iridescent scales shimmer with the moonlight, covering his serpent-like body. Long, sharp talons land on the stone floor. Whiskers and beard are dusted with fresh snow. The indigo-colored eyes easily spot you staring up at him in awe.

Truly, he’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen. You have to wonder why he’d ever think of himself anything less.

For half a year, the beast kept its identity a secret, masking his form and forbidding you from entering the west wing. Had you wandered here before, you would’ve found the gold and gems he secretly stuffed in his drawers, or would’ve caught him basking under the morning sun’s rays while he sleeps. You would've seen the traces of his violent anguish, from the scratches on the walls and holes on the floor, and he’d quietly admit it was often caused by trying to suppress this form.

Now, he has nothing to hide.

“Welcome home,” you say to the creature before you.

Then, on purpose, the beast wiggles and shakes off the wet snow from his scales.

“Ah, Namjoon!” you squeal, shutting your eyes and using your blanket to shield you from the drops of water. A playful chuckle follows, and in his human form, Namjoon wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“What are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed,” he reminds you, quirking an eyebrow. All traces of the beast you had seen before are gone in this form, save for the indigo hue in his eyes. “Jimin will be upset if you catch a cold again.”

The giant hole allows Namjoon to quickly enter and exit the manor in his other form, but it also allows the freezing air and snow to come in. It makes this particular area more dangerous than the rest of the manor, weathered and damaged by the elements. Even with a blanket wrapped around you, you’re still trembling.

“What can I say? I really wanted to see you,” you admit shyly.

It’s only been a month since the night you told Namjoon you loved him. Everything still feels so new – that feeling of love and being loved in return.

Despite the freezing temperatures and the slight dampness caught in his hair, he stands before you, unaffected and incredibly warm. He presses his forehead against yours, and his voice is low as he murmurs, “I came as soon as I could.”

You’re not sure who initiates the kiss first, but something about it just feels right. The feel of his thick lips against your own. The way his hand cups your face with a gentle firmness as he starts to walk you away from the windows and toward his bed. The heat of the kiss against the frost-bitten air makes you want more.

But then, an image of your ex-fiancé flashes in your mind. Just above where you stand is where Kangdae met his end. And even after his death, he still haunts you.

That split-second of him – drenched in the rain, eyes wild with fury, aiming his gun to you and Namjoon – causes you to step back and gasp.

For a moment, you and Namjoon stand steps away. His brow furrows with worry, and guilt starts to swallow you whole when you realize you’ve just ruined the moment.

“Are you cold?” Namjoon finally asks, breaking the silence. He picks up your blanket from the ground and drapes it around you again. You hadn’t noticed it slipped off your shoulders as he was kissing you. He smiles at you kindly, dimples forming on his cheeks. “Let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

You nod your head, unable to find your voice.

It doesn’t feel fair.

Namjoon is the one you want. He makes you feel so safe and happy, and you truly love him so much.

So why do Kangdae’s words still taunt you, making you feel like you don’t deserve to be loved at all?

“Careful, it’s dusty,” Hoseok warns, standing in front of a room that probably hasn’t been entered in years. Tiny specs float in the air as he pushes the door open, and the three of you peek into the dark room to find an old storage space.

Today, the three of you are tasked to clean out some of the unused rooms in the west wing. Your body aches from sweeping and scrubbing floors, wiping windows, and moving furniture around all day. But at least this is the last room you’re assigned to tackle.

Honestly, it’s also a welcomed distraction.

Last night, Namjoon slept in your room in the east wing. You kept apologizing for pushing him away, and even though he did nothing wrong, he said he was sorry for getting too carried away.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Namjoon,” you tell him, feeling even worse.

With incredible patience and attentiveness, Namjoon courted you for months: nightly dates, sticky notes in your books, and flowers by your bedside. He never pushed you into doing anything you were uncomfortable with. And it must’ve been because he knew you weren’t ready for a relationship so soon after what you’ve escaped from.

“Neither do you,” Namjoon replies. You see his pretty eyes briefly glance toward the door, as if debating whether he should stay here or return to the west wing.

“Come to bed, please,” you decide for him, gesturing at the empty spot beside you.

His face lights up as he pulls off his shirt and settles under the covers with you. Your hands have a mind of their own, touching the bulk of his muscles and feeling the warmth of his skin. 

You feel lucky. You feel undeserving.

He sighs at your gentle caresses and closes his eyes. He looks content like this, being this close and enjoying your touch, breathing you in. He takes your wrist and kisses it before he snuggles closer to hold you.

It feels so nice to be held like this, to be safe and feel protected. Even now, you’re not quite used to it. Even now, when you know you should feel happy, you feel troubled.

You think he’s asleep. His breathing slows and his eyes remain closed.

And you can’t help but hate Kangdae all over again. For showing you his version of love so you’d think that it’s cruel and ugly. For being a monster that creeps in the shadows of the back of your mind long after he’s passed. For convincing you that a love as sweet and beautiful as Namjoon’s is only a fairytale.

For making you believe that happily ever afters don’t exist.

Namjoon deserves a mate that isn’t broken from their past like you. It’s a daunting thought that hangs over you – that even though he says you’re the one, you could still lose him somehow.

“I wish I wasn’t so afraid to love you.”

When you woke up that morning, Namjoon had already left. He’s been going into town often lately, so that isn’t unusual. Yet, the dread of being an unworthy mate continues to plague your mind as you fix breakfast with the hybrids and focus on the house chores you agreed to take on.

“Careful, Jungkook,” Hoseok begins, eyeing wearily as the bunny-hybrid picks up a large box. “Some of them are heavy.”

“It’s okay. I’m strong,” he assures him, pausing to wink at you. You smile, fondly recalling how he’d come to protect you since you two ran away together. As he moves around, he hears something jingling inside. “Huh? What’s even in these?”

Curious, you and Hoseok inch closer to Jungkook as he sets the box down. Something inside rattles, knocking together with every movement. You’re certain you hear tiny bells and glass as well. As Jungkook rips open the packaging tape and pulls it open, your head nearly collides with Hoseok’s antlers as the three of you gather around and peek inside.

Round glass painted in deep, holiday red.

“They’re Christmas ornaments!” you exclaim with a gasp. With everything that’s been happening, you’ve almost forgotten that the holidays are here.

Jungkook picks one of them up and examines it. “What’s Christmas?”

Your head whips away from the ornaments to stare at him. “You’re kidding!”

He brings the ornament to his nose to smell it. “I’m not.”

“It’s a big winter holiday,” you answer, wondering if it’d ring a bell. But both hybrids continue to blankly stare at you. “People usually spend it with their friends and family, exchanging gifts, singing carols all month, and decorating their homes with lights and a tree.”

“Ah. It’s a human celebration,” Hoseok realizes.

“Well, sure, but… you guys never celebrated it?” you ask with a frown. You imagine they’d have fun eating a big feast together, playing winter-themed party games, and opening each other’s presents.

But then, why would they?

As hybrids, some of their Christmases were locked up in a cage, freezing in the cold. Or trying to survive the harsh winter while running away from hunters trying to capture and sell them. Some are put to work, gifted away like toys, or treated like spectacles at a fancy party. At best, it’s another day, though relatively quiet with humans going out of town to be with their loved ones.

“I’ve never celebrated Christmas before,” Jungkook admits.

“Me neither,” Hoseok says, sweeping the floor again. “I don’t think any of us ever had a proper Christmas before.”

An idea strikes you just then. The two hybrids watch as you open another box. Then, another. You’re delighted to see that they’re all Christmas decorations.

“Well,” you decide with a smile, carrying one of them out of the room. “That’s going to change this year.”

“What’s all this?” Yoongi asks from behind you, watching as you carefully wrap garland around the stair rail.

“Christmas,” Jimin answers on your behalf as he hangs eight stockings over the fireplace. 

When you, Hoseok, and Jungkook pulled out boxes of decorations from the storage room, it caught the attention of the other hybrids. Soon, you have Seokjin and Taehyung bickering about where to put the giant tree they found, Hoseok trying not to get his antlers tangled with tinsel and garland, Jungkook playing with the nutcrackers, and Jimin helping you decorate.

“Do you want to help?” you ask the leopard-hybrid. You glance at one of the boxes and suggest, “You can put up the wreaths on the doors.”

He picks one up and tilts his head, his ears flickering a bit. “Does Namjoon know we’re doing this?”

You pause what you’re doing, eyes widening with a mild panic. “Would Namjoon have a problem with this?”

“Not when it’s your suggestion,” Jimin replies, his feathers bristling with pride as he steps back to admire his work. “You’re his mate.”

“Either way, it’s a nice change of scenery,” Seokjin adds as he and Taehyung finally agree on a spot for the tree.

Your smile fades a bit. The insecurity that you’ve tried to keep at bay rises again. “I don’t know if I’m a good mate for him.”

Your voice is so quiet, you didn’t think they’d hear you. But all six of them whip their heads toward you, appalled.

“WHAT?” Taehyung shouts so loud, he startles you.

“Why would you say that? Did Namjoon say something to you?” Seokjin sputters, looking ready to scold the younger hybrid, despite Namjoon being the leader of their pack.

“No, it’s not that. He’s been so good to me. You all have,” you assure them. Seven months ago, the hybrids residing at the manor treated you like an outsider – a threat lingering in their territory. Things are completely different now that they consider you a friend.

“Then what’s wrong?” Yoongi gently asks.

“Kangdae,” you answer, and you practically feel the hostility in the air at the mere mention of his name. “I’ve been with him for so long, I don’t think I know how to love.”

To love and to be loved in return. It’s still so foreign to you.

“These days, Namjoon is the happiest I’ve ever seen him,” Jimin mentions. He takes the garland from you and starts to finish the rest, weaving it around the railing. “Even though he knows you’re his mate, he didn’t think you’d accept him. He always worried that he’d scare you off. That once you saw what kind of hybrid he is, you’d only see him as a monster.”

“I never thought of him as a monster.”

“I know you don’t, but Namjoon still worries about that sometimes. You’re human. You don’t feel that pull toward your mate like hybrids do when they find each other. You don’t feel that same certainty Namjoon felt the moment he first saw you.” Jimin looks in your eyes as he adds, “But that doesn’t make you a bad mate.”

“You’re meant to be loved,” Taehyung tells you, pulling you into a bear hug as you wipe your tears away. “And Namjoon is meant to be loved by you, too. Sometimes, the both of you need a reminder of that.”

Christmas is your favorite holiday.

As a child, you and your siblings would wake up your parents on Christmas morning with the joy of seeing presents from Santa under the tree. You’d spend the night before baking cookies and watching feel-good movies, and sometimes your father would take you all out to play in the snow and skate on the frozen lake.

Even as you grew older, you still enjoyed wrapping presents, decorating the tree, and humming your favorite Christmas songs as you cooked and cleaned. Even during the long, bleak years you’ve spent with Kangdae, you always looked forward to the time of year where everything is a little more joyful and merrier.

All day, you and the hybrids have been busy decorating the whole manor. Red and green are adorn in every corner, from the stockings neatly lined up on the mantle to the garlands of pine and holly hanging over arches and wrapped around stair rails. The tree that Seokjin and Taehyung brought in is heavily decorated with shimmering ornaments and ribbons, and on the top of the tree is a glimmering star that shines above the balls and lights. The wreaths that Yoongi hung up are placed on the doorways, and the nutcrackers that Jungkook grabbed are displayed on the shelves.

You step back in admiration, proud of what you’ve all accomplished. “Good job, everyone! The manor looks beautiful.”

An old grandfather clock tolls in the hour.

Seokjin looks over at Yoongi. “We should get started on dinner.”

“Yeah, it’s already late,” Yoongi agrees as the two begin to head toward the kitchen. Jungkook offers to help, trailing after the two.

“We’re going to check on the garden,” Hoseok informs as he, Jimin, and Taehyung plan to leave together as well. “Namjoon should be at his study.”

You look surprised. “Namjoon is home?”

Usually, he’d greet you as soon as he came back from his trips. But you don’t think much of it as you thank Hoseok and make your way toward the west wing.

Sure enough, you find him in his study. A fireplace is lit, cackling softly with a warm and inviting glow. The flicker of flames makes the shadows of the room dance, and Namjoon sits on a velvet chair by the fire, staring at the hearth. On an end table beside him is a tray with a container of whiskey and a half-filled glass.

Another memory flashes in your mind. Anger and alcohol, glass shattering by your head, and Kangdae storming away for the night while you cried. It scared you whenever Kangdae drank, but you don’t feel nervous at all when Namjoon does.

“Hey, when did you come back?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Not long,” he answers without looking at you. He seems sad.

You watch as he grabs the glass and finishes it in one go. “Did something happen?”

Before you could step closer, he suddenly stands. The clink of the glass on the tray fills the tense silence. Despite the glow of the fire, you catch the tinge of redness in his cheeks, and a glimpse of his watery eyes.

You close the distance, touching his face and asking what’s wrong. Rather than answering, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his chest. You feel him breathe you in, as if having you in his arms helps him calm down and eases his worries.

Then, after a while, he states, “You’re not scared.”

“I’m not,” you confirm, a little confused why he thinks you would be. “I never am when I’m with you.” 

The memories of all that you’ve been through linger in the back of your mind, but being in Namjoon’s arms now, feeling safe and protected, feeling warm and loved – it reminds you that this is what love is supposed to feel like.

You are meant to be loved.

He doesn’t say anything for a while again. He simply rests his chin on top of your head, and just as you were about to speak, he suddenly asks, “Do you want to spend the evening with me?”

You lift your head to look at him. “Of course I do. Always.”

He smiles a little. Just enough that the dimples you love form on his cheeks. “Okay. Get ready and wear something warm.”

“Something warm?”

“I want to take you on a real date this time.”

It’s been months since you’ve been to a town, surrounded by other humans who are enjoying their night.

Fried food, grilled meat, and fresh pastries linger from the market stalls, all decorated for the festivities as sellers are busy handing treats shaped like snowmen and reindeer or seasonal spiced drinks. A live band performs Christmas tunes on a stage. Little shops with trinkets and homemade ornaments and accessories pitch their products as the perfect gifts for the year. In the center is a huge Christmas tree, its branches heavy with silver and gold ornaments, red ribbons, and colorful fairy lights.

“Wow…” You marvel at the sights and sounds before you, a bit winded after Namjoon flew you here in his other form.

Namjoon glances at the look on your face and smiles to himself before pushing up a thick pair of sunglasses over his indigo eyes. With them, he blends in like any other human. Even if it is a bit odd for him to wear those glasses at this time of night.

Excited, you take his hand and he lets you lead him to whatever catches your attention. The two of you stop by every open stall, admiring the trinkets, sampling food, and buying small gifts you’d think the other hybrids would like. You pick out some clothes at a thrift shop for yourself and the hybrids, and you’re genuinely impressed with every outfit Namjoon tries on and shows off to you. At a convenience store, Namjoon helps you carry a bag full of ramen, pastries, and snacks you hadn't realized you missed until you saw them. And as the night gets later and the air grows colder, the two of you end up at a table in a small, crowded restaurant.

“This was really fun, Namjoon,” you state, scooping a spoonful of dessert as you admire your haul. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Namjoon reaches across the table to hold your hand. “I’m glad. We can come here more often if you’d like. No one is looking for you anymore.”

You glance around the lively restaurant. TV monitors are showing Christmas specials instead of missing person reports. Families with small children, couples on a date, and friends making toasts and exchanging gifts are sitting on the tables around you. To them, you and Namjoon are just any other couple enjoying their night.

It’s a kind of freedom you’ve never really thought about.

Before you met Kangdae, you were nobody. Just a quiet girl that loved to hide away from the world and read her books. People found you odd for that. You never quite fit in with the rest of the people in town.

Dating a man like Kangdae placed you on everyone’s radar. He was handsome, popular, and wealthy – a monster disguised as a prince. Although he only sought you out because you’re beautiful, he kept you around because together, you were something. A spectacle. A power couple meant to inherit the wealth and influence his parents had over the town. It didn’t matter what he did behind closed doors, as long as he’s seen as a doting boyfriend in the eyes of the public. As long as you did your part and pretended to be happy.

Now, Kangdae is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. He isn’t trying to look for you and drag you back to that miserable life. Without him, you’re nobody again. You’re free.

That’s the greatest gift you could ever ask for.

“Could we?” you ask, hopeful. 

Already, you’re thinking of so many possibilities. Museum dates where he’d excitedly ramble about his favorite art pieces. Tiny concert halls where singers perform to a small, intimate crowd, and you and Namjoon are part of the audience. Coffee shops and bookstores, and cakes that are too cute and pretty to eat.

“Of course,” he replies, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. It’s hard to read his face when he adds, “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

Behind his sunglasses, you can feel his stare. “I don’t scare you?”

You frown, wondering where this is coming from. Again, you confirm, “You never scared me, Namjoon.”

“I want to believe you.”

But he doesn’t.

He always worried that he’d scare you off. That once you saw what kind of hybrid he is, you’d only see him as a monster.

Did something happen? Did you do something to upset him earlier? Was that why he seemed so sad when you greeted him at his study?

“Namjoon, what—?”

“Would you like me to bring anything else?” a waitress interrupts, eyeing on the finished plates and drinks on your table.

“No,” Namjoon tells her, giving her a polite smile as he takes out his wallet to pay for the meal. “That’s all.”

The hybrids are still awake when you and Namjoon arrive back at the manor. You barely step inside before strong arms engulf you in a hug.

“Welcome home!” Jungkook greets you.

Jimin smirks as he looks between you and Namjoon. “How was your date?”

Taehyung grabs a bag of snacks you got for them and peers inside. “What’s all this?”

“Give them some space, guys,” Seokjin lightly scolds them, shooing the youngest hybrids away from the door.

“Whoa, you brought a lot of stuff!” Hoseok exclaims as Namjoon helps you carry in your bags.

“Most of them are for you guys,” Namjoon explains, moving them away before Hoseok could take them.

“For us?” Yoongi questions, turning his attention to you. “What for?”

“It’s Christmas,” you remind them, letting Jungkook go so you could help bring your gifts upstairs.

Taehyung frowns. “But we didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s not the point,” you assure them, seeing their pinned ears and pouty lips. “It’s about being kind to each other. To celebrate the end of a long year together. To make your loved ones happy.”

You look at Namjoon then, but he’s already walking up the stairs. 

He makes you so happy. You’re afraid of messing things up. 

Part of you feels like, somehow, you already have.

It’s nearly midnight when you walk the empty halls of the east wing and head straight to the west side. You had a full day cleaning, decorating, and going on that date in town with Namjoon. You’ll have another full day wrapping presents, preparing party games and activities, and cooking a full feast. 

Then, it’ll be Christmas.

But the further you get to the west wing, the louder you hear it. The howls of the wind. The growls of a beast.

Namjoon is in his other form when you open the door to the master bedroom. He looks like he’s about to take off for the night, facing the opening in the corner of the room. 

“You’re leaving?”

Caught off guard, his eyes widen and he stops himself from jumping through the exposed ceiling. He backs away from where the moonlight touches, sinking into the shadows to hide. But then, as if reminding himself that he no longer has to hide from you, he reluctantly steps back under the silver glow of moonlight.

Despite how intimidating he looks, the beast within him is nervous around you.

It makes your heart drop.

“It’s okay. Come here.” 

You step closer to the beast as well, petting his snout and admiring the way his scales shine under the light. He watches you carefully, ready to back off at the slightest hint of fear or discomfort.

But you’re calm. Dare to say, even affectionate.

He closes his eyes and sighs. Even in this form, he seems content with your touch, of being this close to you. Your laugh breaks the silence when he nudges your hand for more.

“I’m sorry if I made you sad, Namjoon,” you tell him after a while. “I worry all the time that I’m not a good mate to you.”

His eyes fly open as something connects for him. Namjoon is back in his human form, but the surprise doesn’t leave his face. “Is that what you meant when you said you were afraid to love me?”

And suddenly, his distant behavior makes sense. All this time, he thought you were afraid of him. That his worst fear has come, and you’d refuse to be with him.

“The only thing I’m afraid of is that I can’t make you happy, Namjoon.”

“Impossible,” Namjoon says as his hand cups your face. “To be loved by you is the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”

It’s a cold winter’s day, but in the western wing of the old manor, you’re incredibly warm.

Sunlight peers through the tall windows and the exposed ceiling. The crisp air bites your skin as you stretch and yawn, arms popping from the layers of blankets over you. A chuckle catches your attention, and you turn to see Namjoon is already awake. There’s a soft expression on his face as he lies next to you, forlorn with a dimpled smile and so much love in his beautiful eyes.

“Good morning,” he greets you, his voice low and sleepy.

“Morning,” you whisper back, smiling as he leans down to kiss you. It feels nice. Reassuring. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. You’re beautiful even when you’re sleeping,” he tells you, distracted as his head lowers to kiss your neck, your collarbone, the top of your breasts. The blankets that he put over you last night slip around your bare body, unwrapping you like a present. His voice, somehow, becomes huskier as he adds, “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you easily reply, shivering with pleasure at the contrast between the heat of your mate’s body and the cold, winter morning. With the anticipation of continuing where you left off last night, where, for once, loving felt easy. With Namjoon trailing kisses down your body and, with a dimpled smile, promising to warm you up.

And even if Kangdae’s voice still lingers in the back of your mind, claiming that you don’t deserve to be this happy, Namjoon quells it to a faint whisper.

Because with Namjoon, you’ll always be loved.

“You didn’t come to your room last night,” Yoongi observes, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Your face heats up a bit. “I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me.”

“You’re human, but you’re one of us,” Seokjin casually explains as he places mugs of hot chocolate in front of you and Jungkook. “It’s in our instincts to look out for our pack.”

“Plus, you have Namjoon’s scent all over—”

“Enough,” Namjoon cuts in, perhaps just as flustered as you are. Yoongi just smirks and takes another sip of his coffee.

“I’m glad you two talked things out,” Jimin pushes anyway, grabbing a pastry that you got for them from the town. He throws a wink at you, black feathers bristling with pride. 

The bear-hybrid nods his head. “Yeah, I was worried Namjoon would never—”

“Taehyung!” Hoseok interrupts, not-so subtly gesturing at your hand. 

You hold it up, confused. You don’t see anything wrong with your hands. Jungkook takes your hand and examines it, also wondering what they mean. But chaos already erupted as the other hybrids yell over each other while, across from you, Namjoon lets out a long, heavy sigh.

Christmas is your favorite holiday, and on a cold, winter’s day, you celebrate it with the hybrids at the old manor. The decorations and the tree bring in the festive spirit as you hand them the gifts you wrapped: clothes, snacks, board games, vinyls, and other things you thought they’d like. A feast of meat, stews, poultry, roasted vegetables, and dessert were served. Games were played by the warmth of the fireplace and outside in the snow. And while the hybrids take turns singing karaoke in the game room, Namjoon takes your hand and pulls you away from everyone.

“Close your eyes,” he directs with a nervous smile. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, closing your eyes anyway. It feels a bit reminiscent of your first date with him, and he guides you to where he wants to take you. Your footsteps echo around the empty halls as rooms, as the voices of the other hybrids grow fainter.

It’s just you and Namjoon.

“You know,” he begins, opening a door and helping you down the small steps. “I’ve been picking up some shifts around the towns, and saving up some money.”

“It’s that why you’ve been so busy lately?”

“Yes, but I think it’ll be worth it,” he says, stopping you when the two of you reach your destination. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that you’re in his garden. The floral fragrance fills the air the moment you step inside the greenhouse. “I got you a present too.”

“You did?”

“It’s not much, but I redid this place for tonight,” he continues, moving behind you and allowing you to open your eyes.

When you do, you’re met with the full bloom of winter flowers and the soft, gentle glow of fairy lights that rival the twinkling stars in the night sky. Frosty windows and snow-covered grounds indicate the freezing temperature outside, but in here – inside the greenhouse – it’s warm. And the iridescent petals of the smeraldo flowers catch your attention. Between the strings of light and the moon, they reflect a magical shine.

Namjoon told you once that they mean “the truth untold.”

But now, there’s nothing to hide.

You turn to face Namjoon, meaning to tell him how his flowers have grown so beautifully. Or how adding the lights is such a nice touch to his little sanctuary.

But the words are lost to you when you turn around and see the look on his face. The gentle admiration in his eyes as he leans against a table.

“What is it?” you ask shyly.

“I was just thinking… Well, actually, I’ve thought about this for a while,” he begins to nervously babble. “I never thought we’d see each other again after you helped me on that stage all those years ago. I thought I lost you for good when you left the manor before I could tell you how much you mean to me. Even now, I wonder if staying at the manor is enough to keep you with me. If five, ten, twenty years from now, you’ll still be at my side.”

“I think I would,” you answer with such certainty. “To be loved by you is the greatest gift I could ever ask for as well.”

“Is that a promise?”

You watch as Namjoon gets off the table and slowly goes down on one knee. In his hand is a velvet box, carrying a ring – simple, pretty. How long has Namjoon been looking for work to save up for this? How long has he kept it with him, waiting for the right moment to finally ask you?

“I love you,” he continues, “and if you’ll have me, will you marry–”

You kiss him before he has a chance to finish his question.

“Oh, Taehyung, this is a perfect view!” you exclaim, smiling at the bear-hybrid. He swipes at his nose and shrugs, but it’s obvious on his face that he’s proud of the spot he found.

The eight of you are settled around a small campfire on the outskirts of a lively town. Seokjin and Jungkook disappear briefly to gather more wood for the fire – their bickering and teasing still within ear-shot to let you know they haven’t wandered too far. Yoongi immediately claims one of the foldable chairs and pours a bottle of cheap wine in a plastic glass. Taehyung sits on the cooler next to him, making a face of disgust when Yoongi lets him take a sip of his drink. Jimin neatly lays out the food on the picnic blanket, and Hoseok snaps pictures on a polaroid camera and shakes the film that prints out.

It’s the last day of the year. And within a few hours, a new day will begin.

You cozy up with Namjoon by the fire, captivated by the way the flames dance before you. It’s warm light catches the diamond on your engagement ring, and for maybe the hundredth time this week, you hold out your hand to admire it.

“I love you,” Namjoon whispers, kissing your temple. You whole-heartedly accepted him for what he is, and see all the good in him on days he only sees the ugly. You make his days feel less lonely, sharing your love for books, art, and nature with him. You take care of his pack; you brought Christmas to them. You stood up for him when he still called himself Rap Monster. How could he not fall in love with you?

“I love you, too. Always,” you reply, turning to kiss him. The way his lips feel against yours just feels right. Perfect.

Christmas is over, and after staying up with the hybrids by the warmth of the fire, you see the lively town below shooting fireworks to ring in the new year.

You and the hybrids toast and cheer, and grab each other for tight hugs and well wishes. The past year, you’ve rescued Jungkook, ran away from Kangdae, and started living with the others. Last year, you told Namjoon that you loved him, and the ring on your finger symbolizes that he loves you as well – that he’ll promise to protect and cherish you.

And as you find yourself back in Namjoon’s arms, sharing your first kiss with him for the year, you can’t help but feel like this is it.

This is what love is really like.

This is your happily ever after.

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