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singukieee · 1 year

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'23 A R C H I V E

—or recs of fics I’ve read and been reading.

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♡ : works im following closely

☆ : my ultimate favorites (mostly finished)

① : oneshots

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[OT7]

Safe and Sound ♡

hybrid!bts x reader

You have worked at a hybrid rehab and adoption center for years, enjoying being able to help people others only see as their animal side. You thought you might end up taking in one or two, what you didn’t expect however, was to take in 7.

Combined Beings ☆☆

mafia!ceo!bts x chubby!reader

You are bullied on a constant because korea’s beauty standards do not fit girls on the heavier side. the bullying gets worse once a ceo is attracted to you and he mentions you to the other 6.

Little Love

human seokjin! x human!oc x hybrid!ot6

Seokjin and Ayana are an engaged couple who are completely in love with each other. Then one day they stumbled upon two hybrids in need. They decided to help them, not knowing there were four others waiting for their mates to come back.

Snow Angel ♡

alphas!bts x omega!reader

After Yoongi and Jimin find a distressed omega in the mall they take her home in an attempt to settle her. Quickly getting attached, the whole all-alpha pack starts to wish to keep the girl around, going completely soft for her.

Emerald Gem

hybrid!bts x reader

Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Stay Alive ♡

myth creatures!bts x reader

When you started working at a pharmaceutical company, you didn’t realize where it was your life was heading. After getting a patient mix up, you meet seven men who would didn’t seem to want any other nurse that wasn’t you. When you start to know them, you notice things that made you question if they were really human. No matter what excuse they would give though, you would always go home with a heavy heart. The day the truth is revealed to you, things take a turn for the worst.

(Un)natural Instincts

ot7 x ceo!reader

You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Masked Miracles ♡

hybrid!bts x reader

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. A quick in and out. Infiltrate and bring down a hybrid trafficking ring. Saving lives while we're at it. But things hardly ever go to plan. And being locked in with seven hybrids that meant more to me than victims forced into a life they didn't deserve was definitely not according to the plan.

A Cute Blind Soul

ot7 x blind!oc | soulmate au

Selia Jones is blind since birth. After her parents were taken away, she has to live a completely different life and to make it worse, the universe had given her soulmates.

About Love ♡

hybrid!bts x writer!reader

Becoming a best selling thriller author? Part of the plan. Living in the city and isolating yourself from everyone? Part of the plan. Inheriting your late uncles home in the woods, his sassy assistant and fortune after he died mysteriously? Not part of the plan. Oh, and he failed to mention the 7 ‘surprises’ he left you as well. And come to think of it… was his death an accident? Or is your imagination going wild again?

Prologue | CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

The Way Of a Criminal

gangster!bts x reader | mafia au

Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Tongue Tied ♡

wolf hybrid!bts x dog hybrid!reader

In which you're not supposed to be the solution for all of the problems- but maybe you're just that; the missing piece.

Lone Wolf

bts x reader | abo au

In a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Boyfriend For Hire ☆

bts x reader

Unsatisfied with your life was an understatement. Being under the thumb of your father can have that effect. He wanted someone capable of running the company, but you wanted to pursue your passion. Countless unwanted blind dates and the threat of losing your freedom drives you to seek help from a group of individuals you'd least expected.

The Old Guard

demon!bts x witch!reader | soulmates au

You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Let The Light In ♡

hybrid!bts x author!reader

In which you’re a famous children’s book writer, one evening after coming home from a diner with your parents you find seven unknown hybrids making themselves comfortable in your living room, what do you do now?

Protectors ①

mafia!bts x reader

Your boyfriends loved you very much. that being said, they promised to always be there to shield you in frightening situations - to be your protector, for the rest of your lifetime.

Little Dove ①

mafia!bts x reader

You were gentle, innocent, and pure. In simple words, the exact opposite of the cold-hearted and callous mafia members who fell for you in such a cliché manner.

Redamancy ♡

hybrid!bts x oc

When a ragtag pack of seven mismatched hybrids somehow ends up in the woods behind her home, she takes them in and does the one thing she never thought she would do. Own them. But, she also does something she didn't even think was possible. She fell in love with each and every one of them.

The Little Things ①

idol!bts x reader

You've never been more glad to have seven men by your side to help with your recovery. Even when times get tough you know they have your back.

The Plot Twist ♡

idol!bts x reader | soulmates au

Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Hoodies ①

idol!bts x celeb!reader

When the boys are doing a v live, you know to keep away from the camera and stay quiet. and you never failed to do so before. so why is it that the time they all do a v live together, you accidentally leave your custom hoodie on the bed behind them?

Snowball Princess

bts x hybrid!reader

In which you've evolved from being a mere PR-stunt to becoming the most important thing in the lives of seven idols and millions of fans alike.

Like Crazy ♡

bts x reader

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

Mi Casa

bts x alpha!reader | omegaverse au

Sometimes you find your home, sometimes your home finds you.

The Fate of Hybrids ♡

hybrid!bts x reader

Fruits, Daisies, and a Sprinkle of Love ♡

bts x reader | soulmates au

A soul bond's archives is a shared space between soulmates, a safe space that allows the fated ones to share memories between themselves, a method commonly used to find each other without having to wait endlessly for luck to play its part. But when your own archives get tainted with pain due to bullies with too much time on their hands… Needless to say that despite you not knowing if you have soulmates, you begin to believe that maybe it's a good thing if you don't have any.

Trouvaille

hybrid!bts x reader

In a world where hybrids are both the hottest commodity and largely exploited, a recent shortage of hybrids nationwide due to the wealthy adopting for sport hunting dominates the news headlines. More than ever, stray hybrids are whisked off the streets and taken into shelters to meet the demand. Mistreated, neglected, forgotten – in a notoriously disreputable hybrid shelter in a pocket of downtown Boston, seven “aggressive” hybrids await their inevitable fate of being sold for sport.After years of trying to distance herself from her mystical past and upbringing, Y/N finds herself quitting her emotionally-draining job and is forced to face past mistakes. While accompanying her friends looking to adopt a child hybrid into their newly-formed family, Y/N inadvertently finds herself face-to-face with seven hybrids doomed to die. In a spur of the moment epiphany, Y/N decides to change the course of fate for the better; though bringing seven aggressive hybrids into her life and the darkening spiritual energy of her old home is trickier to navigate than she originally thought.

Caramel

dom!bts x sub!reader

You weren’t good at taking care of yourself. You knew it, everyone knows it. Too nervous, anxious, getting overwhelmed way too quickly…It was easy hiding it from the public eye, but they could see right through you. And they were decided on being your steadying hands.

The Love That You Want

idol!bts x death eater!reader | harry potter au

Your worst kept secret? You come from a long line of pureblood elitists.

Outside of the Fox

bts x reader

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she'd been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Doughnuts and Shell Casings ♡

mafia!bts x reader | soulmates au

You finally gather the courage to leave your routine and do something different. your expectations are blown out of the water as you meet your soulmates in a less-than-expected way.

Nymphet Garden ♡

fans!bts x idol!reader

He was just a fanboy, they got dragged into it, and so blooms your love story.

Do Not Tumble Dry ①

bts x reader | super fluff content

A spa day for the Bangtan pets.

Baby (you complete us) ♡

idol!bts x disabled MC | soulmates au

Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches. Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Dance of Time

vampire!bts x human reincarnated!reader

You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Death Valley

bts x reader

A summer internship at a famous record label turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize.

Guys that I'd kind of be into

idol!bts x broadway actress!reader

Being on broadway has always been your dream, and now that you’ve achieved just that as christine in “be more chill,” you’ve found it to be a lot harder than your younger self had expected. like, for example, the fact that dating might as well be out of the question. you definitely did not leave college to get distracted from your work... it kind of sucks that seven k-pop idols that you may or may not really like came to see your show and took a liking to you.

A Deal's a Deal

idol!bts x demon!reader

Before BTS became BTS in an act of desperation Jungkook makes a deal with you, a demon. After Namjoon finds out you’re the reason behind a significant number of unfortunate events they’ve gone through over the years he decides to take back their future by binding you under their control until they can figure out how to save Jungkook’s soul. Regardless, you’re going to feed off of their insecurities, lust, and souls to return your powers to you so you can make them all pay.

Wait, Little Rabbit!

bts x bunny hybrid!reader

You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Until Death ①

demon!bts x human!reader

Until death do you part, you are theirs and they are yours.

Wolves are (NOT) Scary

werewolf!bts x reader

All Y/N wants to do is find her creativity and motivation but she finds 7 werewolves instead.

Pastel Snowflake Kisses ①

bts x reader

They had never made much of a fuss about christmas...until you came into the picture.

Yearning

hybrid!bts x reader

Out of Love ♡

bts x f!reader

Everything was perfect, or at least you thought it was. What happens when you break up with your 7 boyfriends and have to deal with the aftermath of it all?

To Love Min Yoongi

idol!ot7 x witch!reader | yoongi focus x reader

You were a villainess destined to be with seven stars. Your cliche Reincarnation AU.

Can't Wait to See You Again ♡

idol!fan!bts x youtuber!reader

The one where Jungkook develops a huge crush on a Youtuber he found after falling into the rabbit hole of his recommended videos. Unbeknownst to him, you were also recommended to his hyungs.

[KSJ]

The A-Listers

actor!jin x famous!reader

Meet Y/N and Jin, two of Hollywood's hottest celebrities and couple — or are they? Media and fans have been wanting to hear a confirmation for years now. But you two are always good at confusing everyone. Watch as everyone else play this guessing game of what's the relationship between Y/N and Jin.

[MYG]

What yoongi wants, yoongi gets ①

idol!yoongi x reader

The one where the cat is actually yours, but yoongi somehow worms his way into the family.

[JHS]

[KNJ]

[PJM]

Filtering Light ♡

human!jimin x bunny-hybrid!reader x human!jungkook

The reader is a bunny hybrid with a past that has left her traumatized and struggling to heal. some things can be helped with therapy, but some things can only be fixed through realizing you're not all of the things that hurt you—you are, in fact, just loved.

[KTH]

[JJK]

Hold On ①

jungkook x reader | established relationship

A night where jungkook just wants to give, give and give and he wants you to realize that you can take it all.

At Your Service ☆

escort!jeongguk x ceo!reader | strangers-to-lovers au

Filtering Light

human!jungkook x bunny-hybrid!reader x human!jimin

In Which | collection 1 | collection 2 ♡

idol!jungkook x reader | drabble collection

Domestic Daydreams ①

influencer!jk x f. reader

A window into the life of jeon jungkook

Fish-wife or No-wife ①

idol!jk x f.reader

Did Jungkook have a wife? The rumor mill had been churning for years, divided on this one topic. He was a successful worldwide pop star who was always seen with a different lady on his arm, as he flitted from country to country enjoying his prolific career. The reason for the lingering suspicion was a cryptic social media post showing a picture of 2 kids who shared the same exact eyes and smile as him. So in fact, if he truly did have a wife, who was she? And why had the public never seen her? Perhaps she didn't wish to be seen.

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['21 ARCHIVE] | ['22 ARCHIVE] | ['24 ARCHIVE]

#san recs #fics recs #bts #bts ot7 #bts soulmate #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfction

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magini0 · 6 months

Text

Kimset - (II)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

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

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

Word Count: 16k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hurt so much.

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

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

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

He had felt so jealous.

Jealousy.

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

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

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

Those smiles used to belong to him.

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

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

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

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

Jungkook was rarely ever that funny.

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

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

Those students had been right.

"Kookie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew he did. He had loved him instantly.

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

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

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

"One." Jungkook muttered bitterly.

"What?"

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

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

If only he could tell his feelings that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A traitorous thought escaped him. Were they impressed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

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

Jungkook was doing this for himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do you say to someone you left behind?

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

Jungkook hadn't wanted to for a while.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah.

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

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

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

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

"I was diagnosed with Nexus Entropy."

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

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

"How much longer do you have?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, is Yeontan your—"

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

Taehyung?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bunny—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're sorry. I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, Bun, Kookie—”

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

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

But Jungkook wasn't going to reconcile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook, stop. Let's calm down—"

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, you did."

"All of you did."

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Jeon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t a good sign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yugyeom:

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

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

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

Jungkook:

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

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

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

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

He will not die here.

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

“Jungkook!”

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

No, Jungkook would most certainly not die here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Yugyeomm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You brat.”

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

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

They seemed to make him very happy.

17 notes · View notes

theharrowing · 2 years

Text

Consecration

Villagers visit Jimin's shrine to offer their bodies in hopes of pleasing the gods enough to bring abundance to their land and keep their loved ones healthy.

🕊️ Jimin x OT6, Jimin x Original Female Characters

🕊️ word count: 5.7k 🕊️ dead dove!, shrine priest jimin + villagers, blasphemy, mild dubcon, slash, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+ 🕊️ warnings: blasphemy (sex in a religious shrine), coercion/mildly dubious consent, loss of virginity, tinctures as a form of birth control, marathon sex, ritualistic sex

🕊️ written for the Ardour: Dead Dove Fest!

🕊️ thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading, and to @blog-name-idk for beta reading and helping me come up with the name! moodboard created by the mods at the Ardour: Dead Dove Fest (text added by me with permission.) 🕊️ posted oct. 2022

🕊️ notes: some characters are referred to as “boy” and “girl” but everyone is of legal age. names of original characters are all friends who volunteered to be in the story. thanks for letting me use you, darlings!

Of the seven cardinal sins, there were none that Jimin indulged in more than lust.

Jimin gazed down at the parted full lips of the evening's offering. A pretty girl from the village who came to lend her body to help their farmlands flourish in the coming season. Such a sweet girl who hoped her sacrifice would aid in enriching the land and keeping her family healthy.

She laid spread before Jimin with her dress hiked up over her hips and down around her breasts, moaning softly, trying to remain prudent lest anyone hear, but Jimin liked how she sounded, and he leaned forward to grip onto her hair, pulling sounds of pleasure from her lips as he lengthened the column of her neck. That pretty neck he would love to wrap his hand around and squeeze—that pretty neck he'd love to mark up with his mouth.

Jimin leaned into the villager as he fucked her harder, chewing on his bottom lip softly as his pleasure began to build and build. The girl writhed below him, and when he let go of her hair to reach between her legs and gently rub her clit between his thumb and forefinger, she squealed and moaned with pleasure.

"That's it, cum with me," Jimin groaned.

The girl's legs trembled as she got closer, and Jimin could feel her pussy clench around him, pulsating as she reached her high. He loved it when they let go and gave themselves over to pleasure unabashedly and so, so obediently. Jimin took in the sight of her—supple curves and rich, umber skin—and he thought he would like to have her on the makeshift bed below his altar again.

"Yes, Jimin!" the girl whined, throwing an arm over her eyes as pleasure rocked through her.

The pretty villager squeezed Jimin so tight as she came, and it was only a matter of time before his pleasure reached its peak, and he filled her with his seed. Jimin slammed his hips into her and threw his head back with a deep moan. As he stared at the shabby wooden ceiling of his worship room, following the lines and curves of the wood grains as his stars burst before his eyes, Jimin emptied the last of his release into the girl before he pulled out.

Sweat dripped from Jimin's forehead, and he caught his breath, feeling weakened and tired from fucking several offerings that night. The village people tended to become particularly eager to give themselves to him once the frosts thawed and the rainy season began, hoping that through their offering to Jimin—the speaker for the gods and ancestors himself—the gods would look fondly upon their land.

Jimin tightened his dark blue hanbok around his waist, smiling softly to himself as a trickle of sweat ran down his toned chest. Only occasionally did he have enough fun with his offerings to undress further than pulling the bottom of the top open and unbuttoning his pants, but it was clear this one liked to be fucked hard, and he wanted to give it to her, so he opened his clothing and let the cool night air hit his skin.

The girl sat up slowly, adjusted her long, flowing skirt and picked up her panties from where Jimin dropped them onto the wooden floor. The altar bed creaked from her movements, as did the floorboards while Jimin tucked his cock back into his pants and walked to a tall wooden cabinet against the wall.

Jimin reached into the pocket of his slacks, pulled out a small golden key, and then unlocked the cabinet door. When he opened the right-side door, which groaned with age, shelves of organized herbs and little glass tincture vials greeted him, and he reached in and pulled out one such vial. Jimin locked the cabinet door and approached the girl, who was put back together despite her hair appearing a little messy and a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.

"Open, tongue up," Jimin said softly as he placed a thumb on the girl's chin. She obeyed, opening her mouth and lifting her tongue. Jimin took the dropper from the tincture vial and squeezed six drops of the liquid into her mouth.

"Be a good girl, and don't swallow until I say you can," Jimin instructed with a smile, moving his gaze between her open lips and the hands of a clock on the wall behind her. He stood patiently, counting in his head with each tick of the clock. Once one hundred and eighty seconds passed, Jimin said, "You may swallow now."

Jimin walked the girl to the door and saw her out. He asked about her family, and she reminded him that her name was Josie. What a pretty name, he thought.

With the girl out of sight, Jimin returned to tidy up his altar and put away the tincture. Jimin prayed that Josie's family would stay healthy and that his herbal concoction would do its job, then locked up his shrine.

The irony was not lost on Jimin that the tincture created by his father to punish his sinful, lust-driven parishioners by forcing them to abort their bastard children would be used to allow him to fuck all he wanted to without consequence. The thought of it made Jimin chuckle.

"We must remain strong as soldiers of god, and not give in to temptations that may weaken our love for him," Jimin's father would preach from his high horse each week, frowning down upon the villagers as if they were dirty—as if their only hope for salvation could come from his tireless delivery of god's word.

Of course, at the time, Jimin wasn't quite so bitter. In fact, Jimin watched his father proudly with open eyes and an open heart, hoping to follow in his footsteps one day. He was the picture-perfect son of a preacher, turning down peers who were hoping to take him on dates—especially those who wished to corrupt the pretty boy, who was always so shy and polite.

When the time came for Jimin to learn his father's ways and prepare for taking over his duties, Jimin accepted the responsibility. He was so eager to help the villagers in any way and to serve the people who believed as he did in the word of god.

But then, as time passed, Jimin was driven mad with desire. The curves and long, slender features of the women and the taut, firm and broad shapes of the men. Jimin found his eyes and mind wandering, and with that wandering, his urge to give in to temptation grew.

Jimin also grew tired of the catholic god his father taught him to pray to and began to slowly change his methods. The villagers were hesitant but quickly sided with the nature gods when one lush, rainy spring brought their farmlands abundance. Suddenly they were eager to listen to Jimin and came to him with prayers and gifts with the hope of continuous crop growth.

Lust wasn't the only cardinal sin Jimin dabbled in as his views began to shift. In fact, it was a healthy combination of greed, pride and envy that brought him to the point of scheming ways to get his hands on the men and women of his village. Not that he had to try too hard; Jimin had always taken good care of himself, and it had never been a secret that he had a certain effect on others.

And with the isolation of being the only village around for miles and miles, well...Jimin had no trouble using his good looks and devious tongue to his advantage.

The first was Jeongguk. Pure, sweet Jeongguk with his doe eyes and soft, pouty lips. His family owned a cattle farm, and one of their cows was pregnant. Poor, innocent Jeongguk was so worried for the future of their farm—was so desperate for the gods to look down on them favorably that when he came to Jimin with his prayers, he took no convincing at all to get down on his knees.

It was always the eager ones that sucked cock like their lives absolutely depended on it, slurping and swirling their tongue, all in the name of worship. Despite being a virgin who had never seen another man's cock before, Jeongguk swallowed every last drop of Jimin’s cum with tears in his pretty long lashes, and Jimin praised and thanked him, promising the boy that the gods would look favorably upon their cows.

And a month later, when another one of Jeongguk’s family cows became pregnant, Jimin suggested that perhaps, if Jeongguk gave even more of himself, she may have twins.

Jeongguk whined and gasped as Jimin fingered him open, stretching him slowly and carefully, taking his time. Despite being taller and more muscular than Jimin, Jeongguk’s presence was often shy and small, and Jimin loved watching as he unraveled and became more relaxed.

As Jimin sank his cock into the boy, slowly stretching him around his girth, Jeongguk blossomed into something beautiful before his eyes. So eager and so, so good for him.

Jimin wasn’t sure he would get away with it, always looking over his shoulder as a devotee left his shrine. Always practicing his speeches, making sure his reasoning was sound, and taking utmost care of his appearance so as to seem charming but not insincere, or worse, creepy.

But, for the most part, nobody questioned Jimin’s ways. As he began to shift his practices to focus more on nature and ancestors, moving away from the catholic god that his dad indoctrinated the people with, and leaving behind all of the guilt and shame that the catholic preachings had instilled on the village, everyone began to heal together, all thanks to Jimin’s uplifting words. And, of course, his methods of worship.

Soon the villagers began to come to Jimin with all matters of prayer, not just to look after their livestock and their land. Hoseok, one of Jimin’s friends and close confidants, came to Jimin when he discovered his wife Ashley was pregnant. He wanted to ensure he and his wife would have a strong, healthy baby boy who would be able to take over the hard work needed to care for their land.

With Ashley on her knees on the altar bed, Jimin slowly, gently fucked his cock into her throat, promising her good fortune and health for her baby. As she swallowed his cum, Jimin prayed that his sperm would protect her womb to make her child worthy of the gods.

And when Ashley gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Hoseok was so thrilled he got down on his knees for Jimin, as well.

Sometimes villagers would arrive with their heads bowed, seeking prayer and guidance when they saw the light on outside Jimin’s shrine. He would gently bring them inside, switch off his light and lock his door, and patiently get to the heart of their need before coming up with a way to pray together. But other times, the pretense was gone, and Jimin would open his door to a grin.

“Back again, Hoseokie?” Jimin would ask playfully, pulling his friend inside.

Hoseok would strip down out of his clothing as he walked backward to the altar bed. “Just here for my weekly service. I have to keep the gods in my favor as my son grows big and strong.”

Jimin would hum and bite his lip as Hoseok untied his hanbok for him, always the same back and forth, always sporting erections before they even reached their destination.

“And how would my dear friend like to pray?” Jimin would always ask, feeling a fire kindling inside him just from the sparks in Hoseok’s eyes alone.

Jimin loved Hoseok on his knees, but he was best on his back. His taut, willowy limbs wrapped around him as Jimin fucked him—the sweet sounds of praise and worship that left his perfect heart-shaped lips as they came in tandem.

If there were truly a heaven at all, Jimin thought this could surely be it.

There was one villager who Jimin never seemed to get alone. His family was always a little more well-off than others, and he didn’t come to the shrine to pray, even during festivals. Jimin saw him from time to time and always wondered what it would be like to have him on his altar bed—his wavy, long brown hair falling over his eyes while his prominent, rectangular lips parted with pleasure. Jimin wondered what his moans would sound like.

But then, suddenly, the man’s father fell ill, and he turned up at Jimin’s doorstep.

“H-hi, my name is Taehyung,” the man said with his head bowed low, muttering in a soft dulcet tone that went straight to Jimin’s cock.

“Taehyung,” Jimin responded, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. “Please, come in.”

Once inside the shrine, Jimin offered Taehyung a seat and took his place beside him. The man ran a hand through his hair and sighed, keeping his eyes on the wooden floor below their feet.

“My father is ill, and I hear that you have…methods…of prayer that have been used to heal others.”

Jimin hummed and shifted his legs, angling himself a little more in Taehyung’s direction. The art of seduction was often a bit more of a game of wits with some, and Jimin was careful to start slow with those who were already fairly distant from him spiritually. Though if Taehyung sought comfort, perhaps open body language would be to Jimin’s advantage.

“A healthy mix of prayer and use of herbal tinctures,” Jimin responded sweetly. “What ails your father?”

Taehyung shook his head and frowned. “I’m not sure. He’s had a fever for a while and it doesn’t seem to want to break. I’m worried for him.”

A fever, Jimin thought to himself. Easy. “I have many things that can help with a fever. But tell me, Taehyung, how would you like to pray?”

Taehyung’s eyes opened wide, and his lips fell open in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“For starters, have you heard rumors about my methods?”

Taehyung nodded shyly, eyes falling to the ground. “I have. At first, I thought it was…blasphemous…” He lifted his gaze back to Jimin. “But the village sings your praises. And I am desperate.”

Taehyung’s pretty lips turned down in a pout, and Jimin grinned, loving the way desperation looked on him. “And from what you have heard of my methods…which are you more comfortable with?”

With an eager shake of his head, Taehyung responded, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

On his hands and knees on the altar bed with his pants around his ankles, Taehyung was a sight to behold with his long limbs and sun-kissed skin. And spread open, eagerly taking Jimin’s fingers, he was an absolute gift.

To break a fever, Jimin would simply give Taehyung an herbal balm to apply topically to his father’s face and neck. The concoction itself was a rather simple recipe passed down through generations and something Jimin had readily on hand.

But why hand it over so easily when this boy was so enthusiastic. Why waste an opportunity to pull from his lips moans in a voice so deep, Jimin wondered if he might drown.

Jimin loved the eagerness of the women of the village. The way they would fall to their knees so easily for him.

It was always a treat when Michelle would visit. She would practically throw herself onto the altar bed for him, muttering this and that about her prayers, though that clearly wasn’t what she was there for. Crops be damned, as far as she seemed concerned; she was simply there to worship, first on her knees and then on her back, ever eager to please.

And Kam. Kam may have deceived others with her sweet smile, but behind his locked door, that smile became a smirk, and she often pressed Jimin into that very door to take what she wanted, unconcerned about the ritual of prayer, as they took turns getting on their knees before one another.

Jimin’s favorite villagers were the men who were eager to let Jimin spread his legs for them. Namjoon was one such villager. Jimin loved climbing on top of Namjoon to take what he wanted, praising the pretty man below him for being so good for his village—so good for him.

Namjoon hadn’t come to seek assistance with his land but rather acceptance for himself. Jimin's father had spent so much time and energy preaching against Namjoon's sexuality, forcing him to hide his true nature and his deepest desires. And now, with Jimin in charge, changing the style of worship and for whom the rituals were done, Namjoon came to him for guidance.

"Our gods don't judge you, my dear," Jimin said softly as Namjoon sat by his side with his hands wedged between his knees.

"But what of the villagers?" Namjoon asked softly, eyebrows knit with concern.

Gently, Jimin placed a hand on Namjoon's knee, smiling sweetly as Namjoon gasped and turned his gaze on the priest. "I teach my followers to love, do I not?"

"Y-yes," Namjoon responded.

"I teach acceptance and understanding, giving our bodies, hearts and souls over completely to the gods and to our land, do I not?"

Darling, handsome Namjoon lit up as he smiled softly. Dimples creased his cheeks, and Jimin did his best to bite back a groan at the sight.

"Tell me, Namjoon, how would you like to pray with me today?"

Namjoon, who undoubtedly knew of Jimin's methods, blushed and nibbled on his pillowy bottom lip. "What are my choices?"

Jimin stood before Namjoon, stepping in so close their knees grazed. He didn't miss the way Namjoon's breath hitched as his eyes dropped to see for himself that they were touching before lifting his gaze back on Jimin.

"One of us could get down on our knees. Ordinarily, it's the follower who kneels, but for you...I would be happy to pray."

Namjoon's mouth fell open at Jimin's words, and a soft blush painted his cheeks. Ordinarily, Jimin wasn't so straightforward about his desire to fuck, but Namjoon was clearly repressed, and Jimin imagined he would be eager to do anything he wanted.

And eager, Namjoon was. Jimin dropped to his knees where he stood and parted Namjoon's thighs, begging the older man to let him pray for him. Namjoon spread obediently and pulled out his cock, stroking it slowly as he panted and kept his eyes on Jimin.

“What a beautiful cock, so worthy of my worship,” Jimin muttered with a smirk, unable to believe how big Namjoon was. The length alone was intimidating, but the girth was sure to stretch his lips uncomfortably, and Jimin couldn’t wait.

The sounds Namjoon made when Jimin took him in his mouth inch by inch were sweeter than the voices of any angels. Deep, breathy moans and pitchy whines echoed through the room, and Jimin sucked greedily, aiming to make Namjoon cum in his throat quickly.

Namjoon trembled and shook through his orgasm, and when Jimin finally pulled his lips from around his cock, he was delighted to see the pleased, euphoric look on Namjoon’s face. He wondered if the man would allow him to unravel him a little more.

“If you’d like, I can teach you other things,” Jimin suggested, untying his forest green hanbok.

“Other things?” Namjoon asked with wide, curious eyes.

Namjoon was so slow and so gentle stretching Jimin with his fingers that Jimin had to bite back the urge to beg him for his cock. Broad, muscular Namjoon was a sight to behold naked and Jimin wanted to climb onto his lap and take him so badly it made him dizzy.

By the time Jimin was sure he could wait no longer, he crawled around, grabbed the lube and squirted a generous amount into his palms, quickly rubbing it to warm before engulfing Namjoon's cock to coat it. Namjoon hissed and threw his head back; Jimin straddled his hips.

“How generous my priest is to show me new ways of pleasure,” Namjoon muttered, his grin showing off those damned dimples that Jimin was becoming incredibly soft for.

Jimin lined Namjoon’s cock with his hole and slowly lowered his hips, gasping through the pain of the stretch. Try as he might, there was just no way Namjoon’s fingers could prepare Jimin for his size.

“Ah—anything for my devoted followers,” Jimin whined as he continued to lower his hips, squeezing his eyes closed. “It is my duty to give you the g-guidance you deserve.”

With Namjoon’s cock resting snugly in Jimin’s ass, Jimin stopped to catch his breath and adjust to the stretch. Namjoon appeared to do no better, panting with wide eyes as he gently gripped onto Jimin’s hips. Namjoon looked heavenly, laid out on the altar bed with his sharp eyes lidded with desire. And he felt absolutely sinful.

The rise and fall of Jimin’s hips knocked loud moans from both men, and their sounds mixed with the lewd squelch of Namjoon’s lube-slick cock, and the slap of skin against skin in a euphony of pleasure. Namjoon squeezed Jimin’s hips and assisted as he lifted and lowered himself, slowly at first, then fast enough to make them both practically scream.

Namjoon came first, overwhelmed by the feeling of having his cock up someone’s ass for the first time. And when he wrapped his hands around Jimin’s length and stroked eagerly, it took no time at all for Jimin’s pleasure to peak. Spraying Namjoon’s muscular, golden chest may very well have been the best part of all.

“Praise this village,” Namjoon muttered as he laid limp against the altar bed.

Jimin lifted his hips and let Namjoon’s spent cock slap against his tummy. “Praise this village, indeed,” he muttered as he found a clean towel with which to clean Namjoon off.

When two men moved into the village to care for one of their elderly parents, rumor must have spread quickly of Jimin's methods because those two sets of eyes seemed to always be cast on Jimin judgmentally. It didn't worry Jimin to have outsiders make the land their home, but it did make him a little uncomfortable to be squinted at in passing.

Soon was the harvest festival, and villagers would be throwing themselves at Jimin left and right. The last thing he needed was for outsiders to cast judgment and throw a wrench in his plans.

But as time pushed on, Jimin never caught wind of either of the men having anything to say about his practices, and when the harvest festival came and went, and villagers whispered to Jimin to inquire about a time to come see him for one-on-one prayer, the men minded their own business. When Jimin opened his door for villager after villager, sometimes catching one of the men looking, Jimin wondered if the time would come until it was one of them.

And then winter came, and one of them fell ill.

The taller of the two appeared at Jimin’s door one night, but rather than stand with his head bowed down, his arms were crossed over his chest.

“Well,” Jimin said at the sight of him—sharp features and broad shoulders—standing before him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, mister…?”

“Seokjin,” the man responded sharply.

Jimin’s smile turned into a smirk. “Seokjin, please, come on in.” Jimin held out a hand and took a step back, allowing the man room to enter the shrine. Seokjin walked in hesitantly, looking around with his brows knit.

“We are not religious,” Seokjin muttered, clenching his jaw. He stared at Jimin as if expecting to be preached at, but Jimin smiled sweetly.

“No judgment. Trust me, I understand.”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “You understand?”

Jimin nodded. “You may notice that this shrine is built more like a catholic church. When I began my practice, it was just that, passed down from my father and his father. At the time, it was everything I knew, but eventually, I felt very disillusioned by the teachings. I began to change my beliefs, and I was lucky that the villagers here were open to the change. It may sound crazy, but I think that our land has flourished much more since we began to pray to the nature gods and give thanks to our ancestors.”

Seokjin nodded and said, “It does sound crazy. In fact, it sounds like bullshit. But my mother-in-law tells me you keep the village happy and healthy. And that you are the only one who can heal the sick, which seems…sus.”

Jimin shrugged and moved toward the cabinet beside his altar. “Is it suspicious that a doctor holds access to medications?”

“You’re not a doctor,” Seokjin responded with an eyebrow raised.

Jimin smirked, pulling the little gold key from his pocket. “Tell me what you need.”

"I was a virgin when I came to you," Namjoon muttered against Jimin's chest one cold winter night. It wasn't customary for Jimin to cuddle after sex, but he was always so worn out from riding Namjoon's cock that he welcomed the chance to relax. And, perhaps Jimin had a sweet spot for the man.

"Do you have any regrets?" Jimin asked. He felt Namjoon shake his head as he hummed and muttered, "No."

Virgins came to Jimin often. They bought into the myth that they were more pure, that their bodies and souls had more to offer. Jimin tried not to take advantage of it too much, but he struggled to turn someone down when they were so meek and ready to be taught how to be so good just for him.

The next time one of the two newer men knocked on Jimin’s door, it was the smaller one. Jimin opened his door with a grin and said, “Oh, hello there—”

“Save it,” the man said, holding a hand up and pushing his way into the shrine. His voice was much deeper than his delicate features suggested, taking Jimin by surprise.

Jimin closed the door behind him and placed his hands in the pockets of his red hanbok, turning to give the man his attention.

“What did my husband do to pray?”

Jimin raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “Your husband didn’t pray.”

“Cut the crap,” the man said, straightening his posture, looking Jimin straight in the eye. “He came back acting strange. What did you do?”

For once, Jimin hadn’t done anything. He was more eager to make the newcomers comfortable than to indoctrinate them so soon. But the idea that Seokjin returned from the shrine acting strange was intriguing, to say the least.

“I gave your husband a remedy for your condition and sent him on his way. No prayer necessary.”

The man chewed on the inside of his mouth and shook his head. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you want to be difficult then I’ll go get Jin and make him talk.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Be my guest,” and with that, the man stormed out.

It didn’t take long for the man to return with Seokjin in tow, and Seokjin's stature was shrunken and anxious. Jimin smiled as he opened the door for them, and Seokjin walked to a seat, crossing his arms around his chest like a hug. His husband stood between Seokjin and Jimin, who stayed near the door.

“Tell me what happened when you came here,” the man said to Seokjin.

“Yoongi, please,” Seokjin responded desperately.

Yoongi, Jimin thought. A pretty name to suit such a pretty face.

“You were acting weird when you came home! Tell me what he did to you!”

Jimin put his hands into his pockets and cocked his head, flashing a smile that was as sweet as pie. “Tell me what you’ve heard of my methods of prayer.”

Yoongi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “They get down on their knees for you. Sometimes on their back. And nobody takes issue with it!”

“Do you take issue with it?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi’s mouth faltered, and he huffed petulantly, pointing at his husband. “I do when it’s him! When he comes to you alone and desperate!”

“Why don’t you believe either of us when we tell you Seokjin didn’t pray?” Jimin asked calmly, further riling Yoongi up. His face was red with blush, and he tongued the inside of his mouth.

“It’s true that your husband came to me alone, and it’s true that he was worried for your health, but he came to me just as unsure about my practices as you are, and I didn’t attempt to push anything on him. I simply gave him a remedy to help you and sent him on his way.”

“I told you,” Seokjin muttered.

“But the villagers,” Yoongi said, sounding quieter and possibly convinced, “they say you’re very persuasive.”

Jimin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course, I want to give offerings to the gods and keep our village flourishing, and I have my own…methods…of prayer. But I don’t wish to take advantage of others.” A lie. A bald-faced lie that slid from Jimin’s tongue through a sweet smile with practiced ease.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbled. “Since you say you didn't take advantage of my husband, then I suppose I should apologize. And…I’m sure you would like us to give thanks for healing me.”

This took both Jimin and Seokjin by surprise, whose eyes flickered between Yoongi and each other. Yoongi lifted his chin and raised his eyebrows at Jimin. “I hear from some of the villagers that you do the worshiping.”

Jimin’s heart began to pound, and he couldn’t help but grin at Yoongi’s suggestion. “What they say is true."

“Down on your knees, then, priest,” Yoongi commanded, reaching for the fly of his black slacks.

Seokjin shot up onto his feet. “Yoongi, what are you doing?”

“We’re going to fuck him, baby. I hear he’s really giving. You should stretch him while I suck his cock.”

“Sh-shouldn’t we discuss this?” Seokjin asked frantically.

Yoongi turned to his husband and placed one hand on his cheek, gazing up into his eyes. “Baby, I know you’re not the religious type, so you don’t understand…but he saved me, and now we need to thank him.”

And that was how Jimin wound up on his knees on the altar bed, bent over sucking Yoongi’s cock while Seokjin stretched him from behind. By the time Jimin was ready to be fucked, Yoongi was gripping his hair with both hands and shooting his cum down his throat.

“Make me hard again,” Yoongi muttered as his hips jerked against Jimin’s lips. “You’re going to ride me while you suck off my husband, and if I find your worship adequate enough, I’ll let him make you cum.”

Yoongi was quick to get hard once more, and Jimin wasted no time sitting on his cock, taking him all the way in only a few thrusts of his hips. Seokjin gently took Jimin by the head and slid his erection between his lips as Jimin began to ride Yoongi.

The deep whines from Yoongi and gasps from Seokjin were music to Jimin’s ears, and he fucked and sucked enthusiastically. Yoongi’s cock was thick enough to sting, and it felt incredible as Jimin lifted and dropped his hips at a steady pace.

Seokjin came first, gripping onto Jimin’s hair tightly as he shivered and whimpered. Although it felt like a relief to have Seokjin’s thick length out of his mouth, he would have taken him back between his lips in a heartbeat.

With Jimin’s mouth free of Seokjin's cock, Yoongi took the opportunity to fuck his hips up at a punishing pace, bouncing Jimin on him so hard it made him dizzy. Jimin didn’t expect Yoongi to want him to cum at the same time and was surprised when he muttered, “Jinnie, stroke his cock.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled back as he rutted up into Jimin so hard, it made Jimin cum in an instant. Jimin sprayed his release on Seokjin’s fist, getting spurts on Yoongi’s hips, and Yoongi gripped onto Jimin's hips tightly and moaned like a bitch in heat.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing the life out of me,” Yoongi whined as they both trembled and came down from their highs.

“Since when have you been religious?” Seokjin muttered to Yoongi as they straightened out their clothes and made their way to the door.

Yoongi muttered something in response, then looked over his shoulder and, with a wink, mouthed, “I’m not.”

Interesting, Jimin thought. He already looked forward to seeing Yoongi again.

During the following spring, villagers lined up for a chance to pray, waiting outside Jimin's shrine for their chance to get their hands and lips on the pretty priest's cock. Jimin gave preferential treatment to the virgins, spreading them on his altar bed when his stamina returned while allowing a few strokes or swallows of his cock from the others in quick succession.

The floorboards of the shrine creaked as men and women waited, some already on their knees, for Jimin to gift them with his cock. He grinned at the debauchery of the worshippers getting a taste of the virginal ass or pussy he had previously fucked, allowing their eager mouths clean him and get him nice and ready for the next one.

As Jimin fucked a pretty virgin whose name he had already forgotten, gently rubbing her clit to make them cum in tandem, he couldn't help but think about his position of power.

Sure it was crops and prayers for health and happiness, but what could the future hold with a village so willing to be used and manipulated? Jimin grinned, thinking of the possibilities as he pulled out of his worshiper and made his way to the cabinet for the tincture. As he counted the seconds on the clock while Namjoon eagerly dropped to his knees and sucked his cock clean, Jimin began to imagine more ways to further isolate his people from the outside world.

Anything to make them so committed to their faith. Anything to keep them so good for him.

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