Park Jimin's Guide to Getting Hitched

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/31681910.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Character: Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Namjoon |
RM, Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Kim Seokjin | Jin,
Original Characters
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Mythical
Beings & Creatures, Park Jimin-centric (BTS), Bottom Park Jimin
(BTS), Top Jeon Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook is a Brat, (Still), Sassy Park
Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V is a Little Shit, Established Relationship,
Weddings, Wedding Night, wedding angst, Yes you read that right, Stag
Nights & Bachelor Parties, Alcohol, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Lingerie,
That Siren Fountain, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Emotional Sex, Happy
Ending
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of Park Jimin's Guides
Stats: Published: 2021-06-05 Completed: 2021-06-19 Chapters: 3/3 Words:
36689

Park Jimin's Guide to Getting Hitched

by Ashlyn17

Summary

Park Jimin has been through the wringer. He's successfully committed anarchy. He's gotten
killed . It's safe to say that Jimin's been through hell and back, and a wedding is just what he
needs to finally feel like himself again. And Jimin has plans, big plans, for the Bachelors'
party.

Jeon Jeongguk, however, has also been through hell. But everything he's been through pales
in comparison to what he endures the night before the wedding. So after a Bachelors' party
that he'll never forget, Jeongguk is out for blood-- and he's willing to play dirty if it means
that he gets what he wants.

As tensions rise on the eve of the Jeon-Park wedding, it's clear that compromise is out of
the question. But still, the wedding must go on.

...right?

Notes
What up-- I'm Ash, I'm nineteen, and I never fuckin' learned how to stick to a word count
*insert drum beats*

....so. I feel like this needs some explaining. Let me really paint you a picture here: a while
ago, when I first finished publishing Good Housekeeping, I received a comment saying,
"Wait, if Jeongguk doesn't eat chickens, why does he eat eggs? It doesn't make sense."
Needless to say, my world was shaken- how could I have overlooked this MASSIVE plot
hole?

This trauma stuck with me for weeks. I literally could not stop laughing over the fact that,
somehow, my biggest slip up in 235k worth of writing was that I didn't consider the dietary
nuances of Jeon Jeongguk. So here I am, ready to present you with a 30k+ fic consisting of
three chapters that addresses this concern. It's also about a wedding.

Please enjoy my descent into insanity. I have spiraled out of control.

I should also mention that this whole first chapter is pretty NSFW. I usually put in little **
to mark the explicit parts, but... I realized that, if I did that, it'd encompass about 4k worth
of words, SOOOOOOO read with discretion, please!
Also, here's a link to the Spotify playlist where you can listen to all of the songs, just in case
you read on your phone!

Dear OG commenter who threw me for a LOOP-- this one is for you. <3

My Twitter
My Beta Reader's Twitter
 Part I: In which Kim Taehyung Moonlights as The Best Man™
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Kim Taehyung is a Fae of many talents. Over the course of his hundred or so years of existence,
he’s held down many jobs-- slaughtering ‘rogue’ Fae at the Bureau’s behest, inhabiting a swamp
and dutifully drowning anybody who comes too close, grinding said Fae’s bones into perfect,
polished bits of jewelry that he wears on his body.

It’s safe to say that he has experience in most facets of life.

What he’s never done, as fate would have it, is plan a bachelor party.

“You want me to do what?” Taehyung gasps dramatically. He looks up at Jimin from the foot of
Jimin’s bed, switching his attention away from the Bone Collector’s Monthly edition he’d been
pawing through.

Jimin wrings his hands, an unusual gesture from him, and repeats, “I want you to plan our bachelor
party.” And though it very clearly almost kills him, Jimin tacks on, “...please.”
“Jimin,” Taehyung breathes, slowly pulling himself upright on the red duvet, “Are you asking me--
your soulmate , true friend among friends, savior of your-”

“Does this have a point?” Jimin whines.

Taehyung ignores the interruption. “Are you asking me to be The Best Man?”

Jimin wrinkles his nose in disgust, but there’s affection glinting in his eyes that Taehyung’s long-
since trained himself to recognize. “Well, technically I’m asking you to be my best man,” he
clarifies, “Jeongguk is having Yeona be his.”

“I would be honored to be The Best Man,” Taehyung declares triumphantly. He hops out of bed,
crosses the afternoon-sun-drenched floor in two quick strides, and crushes Jimin into a hug. “I’ll
be the best Best Man. I swear it to you. You’re going to get so drunk.”

A strangled noise claws its way up from Jimin’s lungs, and he pats Taehyung on the back once,
twice. Against his cheek, Taehyung can feel the way Jimin’s ears burn red-hot in embarrassment.
“I want something low-key, alright?” Jimin insists, “I just want to relax after this shitstorm of a
year. So whatever you’re thinking of doing, scale it back by about one hundred percent, and then
ask Yoongi to scale it back some more. That’s the sweet spot.”

Taehyung scoffs. He begrudgingly relinquishes his hold on Jimin, but it’s only after a few minutes
of Jimin’s increasingly annoyed snaps and a threat to turn Taehyung into a Nøkken-scented candle.
“What’re your thoughts on strippers?” Taehyung asks, entirely genuine, “Because there’s this
brothel down the way that I think would be the perfect venue, and-”

“Actually,” Jimin cuts him off. He ducks his head down, muttering softly, but Taehyung can
clearly hear the beginnings of embarrassment in Jimin’s tone. He clears his throat, mumbles out, “I
wanted to talk to you about that.”

He casts a meaningful glance up at Taehyung with hooded eyes.

Something mischievous, devious, and downright sinfully delicious burns in Taehyung’s chest. With
a delighted purr, Taehyung smiles altogether too wide in Jimin’s direction. “Tell me,” he smirks,
“What did you have in mind?”

This was a mistake, Jimin thinks as he stares up at the high, wooded vaults of his ceiling, A
colossal, world-shattering mistake.

Birds chirp outside in the bright, early morning. Their melodies are sweet, but all Jimin can hear in
their dulcet tones are the words ‘you’re right! It’s a huge mistake, you dumbass!’ Jimin chooses to
ignore them in favor of worrying himself sick about things he can’t control.

It’s been a few months since the Battle of Somnus-- as the local Fae are referring to the maelstrom
of a final fight that Jimin had inadvertently led. Outside, it’s spring. Jeongguk’s wildflower
meadows explode in bursts of bright corals, lavenders, and multicolored dusty roses. Realistically,
there’s nothing to worry about. The last couple of months have been perfectly lovely. Happy even.

But every now and then, Jimin wakes up in a cold sweat, thoroughly concerned that, at any
moment, he’s going to wake up from another nightmare. Deep down, he’s absolutely terrified that
this is somehow all an illusion. Jeongguk is always quick to kiss his fears away as soon as they
occur, but as Yoongi puts it, trauma cuts deep.

So instead of driving everybody absolutely fucking crazy with his constant stress, Jimin channels
his reserves of energy into training his magic, improving his cooking repertoire, or, more recently,
learning how to dance. But occasionally, the worry seeks a new target. Today’s fixation just
happens to be on the bachelor party Taehyung and Yeona had thrown together a week or two ago.

There are about a hundred things that could go wrong, and because nothing has ever gone perfectly
for Jimin in his life , he lists them out in his head. Just for fun.

I could lose my outfit at the last minute, he muses, but it’s not likely. Taehyung’s been guarding
those particular pieces of clothing with his life for the last few days. Jimin’s pretty sure he has a
wardrobe full of Jimin’s specially-selected outfit in the unfortunate event that something goes
horribly awry.

Jimin focuses on the next thing. Jeongguk could not like his surprise, he thinks and immediately
dismisses it. There’s no way that Jeongguk won’t like what he has planned tonight.

In a last ditch effort to worry about something, Jimin mentally suggests, The tavern could catch on
fire and burn to the ground. This also gets discarded because if anything, Jimin would be the one
to start such a fire, and he most certainly does not want anything to go wrong tonight.

Jimin chews the inside of his cheek. He’s out of things to stress out about, which is somehow even
more stressful. But all of the plans for his wedding tomorrow are perfectly in line. Daeshim and
Taehyung helped Jimin go through all the little kinks with a fine-toothed comb. It’s all perfect.
There’s nothing they haven’t prepared for. But, of course, everything depends on tonight.

Holding onto the thought, Jimin lets out a sigh. He doesn’t remember that there’s someone else in
his bed with him until Jeongguk lightly stirs at the rise and fall of Jimin’s chest.

“J’min?” Jeongguk grumbles, throat thick and gravelly from disuse all night. The sound rumbles
up Jimin’s back and shudders through his body. The arm that Jeongguk has tossed lazily around
Jimin’s bare hips tugs him back, closer against Jeongguk’s firm chest.

“Morning, love,” Jimin coos. A swirl of warmth bursts to life in his chest at the feeling of
Jeongguk pressing a small kiss to the nape of his neck. “Sorry I woke you up,” he apologizes.

Jeongguk makes a dismissive noise. He readjusts his wings, moving one of them up and over
Jimin’s body until he’s enveloped in the semi-darkness of Jeongguk’s plumage. “Why’re you up?”
Jeongguk pouts, “S’ too early.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jimin says truthfully, stroking along the spines of Jeongguk’s wings in the way
he knows Jeongguk adores, “I’m still trying to get used to your sleeping schedule. I’ve been up all
night.”

It’s true. There’d been a fair bit of negotiation in the Jeon-Park bedroom recently-- especially in
regards to their joint sleeping schedule. As it turns out, Jeongguk’s newly-rekindled need to sleep
had not meshed so easily with Jimin’s firmly enmeshed nocturnal lifestyle. Arguments ensued;
chairs were burnt; wings were flailed, but to no avail. Until Yoongi had stepped in, wise old man
that he is, and suggested alternating months of diurnal and nocturnal sleep schedules. This month is
Jeongguk’s schedule, and Jimin is valiantly struggling to adapt to the sudden shift.
Jimin can feel the frown that Jeongguk’s lips form on the back of his neck. “You don’t have to
adjust to me this month,” Jeongguk offers quickly, “I can be nocturnal permanently. It’s truly no
bother, darling.”

“You’d never see your family. We’re not having this argument again,” Jimin sighs. He rolls around
in Jeongguk’s hold until he’s face-to-face with Jeongguk. And just because life still doesn’t appear
to be fair, Jeongguk looks flawless. His eyes are a little puffy from sleep, and his chestnut hair is
just a little bit too long, but the sight of him still manages to snatch Jimin’s breath away.

With a knowing smirk, Jeongguk pulls Jimin closer by the waist. “You’re right,” he croons, “There
are so many other things we could be discussing right now.” Deftly, and faster than Jimin can
comprehend, Jeongguk pushes Jimin underneath him.

Jeongguk rises onto his palms to hover above Jimin by a few centimeters. The whorls of golden ink
that adorn his chest glow in the honey-tinted light that seeps in through the shutters of the
windows. Jeongguk’s wings splay out and catch the light, and Jimin can honestly feel his brain
short-circuit for a moment.

“Why spend time dwelling on things as dull as sleeping schedules when we could be focusing on
the fact that, after tomorrow, you’ll be my husband.” Jeongguk beams down at Jimin, emphasizes
the last words so smugly that Jimin lightly smacks him on the chest.

And even though Jimin can feel his blood singing at the thought of being wedded to the Fae
suspended above him, he finds it in himself to say, “That reminds me. We need to sleep apart
tonight.”

The smile on Jeongguk’s face dies at once. It slips off his face faster than Jimin can blink.
Jeongguk’s eyes flash with copper. “No,” he denies instantly. There’s a note of authority hidden in
his tone, but Jimin’s long-since stopped giving a shit about the Jeon family’s penchant for needless
posturing.

“Yes,” Jimin asserts, “It’s tradition.” He crosses his arms over his bare chest, notes how Jeongguk
tracks the movement with his eyes on instinct.

Jeongguk harrumphs, clearly upset at the thought. “Tradition for humans.”

“And where do you think they got it from?” Jimin counters.

“When have you ever cared about tradition?” Jeongguk tries for a different angle of attack. His
frown morphs into a scowl, petulant and trimmed with the last remnants of sleep. “Besides. I told
myself that I was never letting you out of my bed once I got you into it.”

Jimin’s heart jumps at the sentiment, but he stops Jeongguk from swooping down to steal a kiss
with a hand planted firmly on his chest. “Technically, this is my bed,” Jimin quips. He glances
meaningfully at the room surrounding them.

“ Technically, this is my manor,” Jeongguk retorts without missing a beat, “Ergo, this is my room.
My bed. That you just happen to be using consistently.”

Jimin laughs in his face. He throws back mercilessly, “Your parents’ manor, you mean.”

“Shut up,” Jeongguk groans. In retribution, he flops all of his weight down onto Jimin.

A ‘whoosh’ of air is forced from Jimin’s lungs by the heft of the Fae draped over him. Jeongguk
weighs as much as an oak bookcase, and though Jimin can tell that Jeongguk is actively trying to
displace some of his weight, Jimin is still at the risk of being crushed to death. “Seriously,
Jeongguk,” he wheezes under the press of Jeongguk’s bare body, “I want to do this right.”

Jeongguk seems to be able to sense the sincerity in his tone because a moment later, he sighs
heavily. “Really?” Jeongguk asks, though his tone indicates that he already knows the answer.

“Yes,” Jimin says firmly, “And why bother tempting fate by breaking tradition? The gods have
already proven themselves as more than willing to fuck us over at every possible ocassion.” Jimin
breathes in the jasmine-cedarwood cologne that seems to cling to Jeongguk’s very skin and tangles
his hands lightly in the mussed tresses of Jeongguk’s hair. He tugs gently until Jeongguk is looking
at him, still pouting. “Just… please?” Jimin urges, though he knows he’s already won.

Jeongguk’s eyes flash, but he bites his lip. “I hate everything about this,” he mutters, “I don’t want
you to leave.”

With a snort, Jimin tilts his head down to place a peck on the tip of Jeongguk’s nose. “You’re a
baby,” he muses.

“I love you. That’s all.”

The surety lacing through Jeongguk’s voice sends Jimin’s heart back up into a staccatoed allegro.
“Don’t play that card,” Jimin grumbles, blush deepening the longer Jeongguk looks at him like
that, “You know it makes me useless.”

Jeongguk’s face splits into a smile. Swiftly, and using his wings to gather enough momentum,
Jeongguk hefts himself onto his knees. “I love you,” he singsongs playfully, even as he pulls
Jimin’s bare legs apart by his thighs to settle in between them. His hands come up to frame Jimin’s
waist. They skirt along the top of Jimin’s underclothes dangerously.

“I know what you’re doing,” Jimin says, practically a gasp, “But I’m not backing down. We’re
sleeping apart after the bachelor party tonight.”

Jeongguk snarls low in his throat. “Wicked, cruel thing,” he hisses, leaning down to nip against the
skin of Jimin’s neck.

It’s a little shameful how easily Jimin’s spine bows up to meet Jeongguk’s lips, but Jimin is well
versed in all the ways Jeongguk can get him to fall apart by now. However, all of the time he’s
spent in bed with Jeongguk have taught him a thing or two-- an uncovered, unexpected weakness of
Jeongguk’s that Jimin is now more than ready to try out tonight.

For right now, though, Jimin chooses to taunt, “Absolutely. But just think about our wedding night.
That’ll be good, hm?”

Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze tighter at Jimin’s waist. “ Stop,” he commands.

As usual, Jimin discards the threat. He brings his hands up to Jeongguk’s chest only to smooth
down the firm planes a heartbeat later. “ Husbands,” Jimin sighs lovingly, knowing full well what
he’s doing to Jeongguk’s body, “ Can you picture it?”

“Jimin.” Jeongguk’s voice is strained.

Jimin zeroes in for the kill-shot. “You. With me . For as long as you want me.”

Jeongguk groans, low and slow. “I honestly don’t know if I’m sentimental or horny,” he gripes,
even as the firmness at Jimin’s thigh tells him exactly which of the two things Jeongguk is.
With a slap to Jeongguk’s chest, Jimin smiles sweetly. He suggests innocently, “Let’s find out.”

Jeongguk growls ferociously and tackles him to the mattress.

“Well, doesn’t someone look happy this evening,” Yeona quips with a laugh. She elbows Malchin,
nods her head in Jeongguk’s direction. “You’re getting married tomorrow, and Tae and I have one
hell of a party planned for you tonight.”

Jeongguk grumbles grumpily under his breath as he steps into the kitchen. His two siblings sit at
one of the wooden tables. The sun sets through the window behind them-- it drips across the frame
and paints the rooms in warm amber-pinks. Objectively, it’s beautiful, but Jeongguk is in a less-
than-appreciative mood.

He shuffles his wings and snaps, “I don’t care. I’m not in the mood for a party.”

Malchin whistles, low and slow under his breath. “Baby brother’s upset, huh?” he quips, not
appearing to give a single shit about Jeongguk’s foul mood, “What’s on your mind? Your wise,
worldly older brother can help you.”

“You were dead for seventy years,” Jeongguk points out with a scowl, “If you think about it, I’ve
actually lived longer than you at this point.”

Malchin’s face falls, and he puts down the wine glass he’d been swirling sophisticatedly. “...is that
true?” he whispers at Yeona.

With a dismissive hand gesture, Yeona waves Malchin’s question away. He pouts, but Yeona pays
him no attention. “What’s on your mind, Jeongguk?” she asks. There’s concern on her brow and
tingeing her tone, just enough to let Jeongguk know that she’s serious.

“It’s nothing,” Jeongguk sighs. Yeona stares at him; Jeongguk stares at her. He already feels
himself breaking under the pressure of her ‘why are you lying’ look, so he mumbles out
begrudgingly, “It’s Jimin.”

“Cold feet?” Malchin gasps. His eyes widen in shock, which morphs into horror, which morphs
into anger . “Are you seriously doubting marrying Jimin?” he practically screeches, rising to his
feet in a flash, “He’s perfect. I want him. How could you-”

Jeongguk points at Malchin. Sparks flick off of the tip of his finger. To Yeona, he seethes, “Get
him out of here before I kill him. I mean it.”

A noise of agitation crawls its way out of Malchin’s throat. He cuts a look at Yeona. “Are you
really going to let him talk to me like this?” he exclaims in disbelief, puffing out his wings in a
weak attempt at posturing.

Yeona flicks one eyebrow up and nods towards the doorway. “You heard him,” she says,
shrugging apologetically.

“I hate how close you two got when the rest of us were dead,” Malchin complains. He snatches his
wine glass up off of the table, snags the bottle that still rests on the wooden countertop, and struts
to the kitchen’s exit, head held high. “I’m sure that the Kimms would enjoy my company.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Don’t terrorize my friends,” he calls as Malchin saunters out of the
kitchen. It earns him a waved middle-finger for his trouble. With a soul-sucking sigh, Jeongguk
tugs out the stool on the side of the table across from Yeona. He puts his elbows on the surface,
drops his head heavily in his hands.

“Wow,” Yeona hums, swirling the tip of her finger around the rim of her wine glass, “You’re
giving a lot of pouty-child vibes. What’s going on with Jimin?”

“He wants to sleep apart tonight,” Jeongguk whines into his hands. He doesn’t mean to sound
petulant, but it seeps into his tone.

Yeona draws in a long sip of her drink before smirking. “That’s not even an interesting problem.
You’re acting like a baby for nothing. It’s just one night.”

Jeongguk has to bite his tongue. He doesn’t know how to explain that, after decades of solitude,
after months of sharing a bed with the love of his life, he doesn’t want to go back to the emptiness
of a half-empty bed. Jeongguk doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s still afraid to close his eyes at
night. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t had a nightmare since the day Jimin wished him into a
Daydream. The ghosts of his past linger in the corners of his mind, casting shadows across
Jeongguk’s carefully-confident exterior.

He swallows hard. “It’s more than that.”

Yeona’s eyes flash in understanding, and Jeongguk thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to say
anything at all. Maybe she already understands-- maybe she’s going through something similar in
her own room. Maybe she’s chased by the same demons that nip at Jeongguk’s heels.

“Look,” Yeona starts, but her voice is soft, “It’s going to be fine, alright? It’s just one night, and
then you’ll be married for literally eternity . You can survive one night.”

Jeongguk can’t keep his feathers from settling nervously. “See, rationally, I know that,” he explains
carefully, licking his lips as uncertainty sets him, “but I’m still afraid.”

“Jeongguk, we’re all terrified.” Yeona takes a deep breath and sets her glass down with an
authoritative ‘thunk’. She lifts her eyes to meet Jeongguk’s, nods once. “Sometimes, through my
walls, I can hear Mom and Dad crying.”

“What?” Jeongguk breathes, shocked.

Yeona talks over him. “And every now and then I see Namjoon tip-toeing his way to Taehyung’s
room in the middle of the night. I know he still has nightmares about being beheaded. Gods know
that I still dream about Jimin cutting off my wings,” she admits shakily. “My point is: we’re all
afraid. We’re still healing, Jeongguk, but you shouldn’t let that hold you back. Not if you can help
it.”

She reaches her hand across the table, palm facing up for Jeongguk to take. Jeongguk grabs hold of
it in a heartbeat. Comfortable silence settles like a warm blanket over the pair of them for a handful
of moments. Jeongguk breathes it in, lets it settle in his bones.

You know she’s right, he coaches himself, It’s really not a big deal. Jimin’s not going anywhere.
This is real.

Jeongguk bites his bottom lip.

This is real.

“It still sucks,” he complains in the silence.

Yeona barks out a surprised laugh. She gives Jeongguk’s hand a squeeze and picks her glass back
up, draining it in a single go. “I know,” she croons teasingly, “But you’re a big boy , Jeongguk.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jeongguk snatches his hand back. “You’re worse than Malchin.”

“Malchin is nothing more than a pale impersonation of my stellar wit,” Yeona smirks. “Now get
out of here. Taehyung and I need to have a strategy session before we leave tonight.”

Jeongguk stands, but he looks down at Yeona distrustfully. “A strategy session? What for?”

With a tut, Yeona chides, “What good is a strategy session if I give our plan away? Just go make
yourself presentable enough that Jimin regrets his ultimatum.” She makes a little ‘ shoo shoo’
gesture with her fingers.

“Jealousy is a bad look on me,” Jeongguk warns, but Yeona ignores him. She clicks her fingers,
summoning another bottle of wine, and turns her back pointedly towards Jeongguk. It’s much more
dramatic than is probably necessary, but Jeongguk lets it slide. He’s not exactly known in the
surrounding villages for subtlety himself.

Jeongguk sniffs judgmentally before sweeping out of the room. He leaves the evening-warmth of
the kitchen for the marble-lined hallways. Jeongguk grumbles to himself, prolonging his pity party
as he makes his way up to the second floor of Somnus. The newly installed stained glass windows
catch the light and twist the swirls out in beams of reds and golds that dapple across the floor--
Jimin’s suggestion during the renovation process.

Actually, there’s evidence of Jimin in every single step Jeongguk takes. Over there, by the grand
staircase in the foyer, is where Jimin burned all of the Review Council to a crisp; outside in the
recently refurbished moving statue garden, where Jeongguk had taken Jimin against a fountain
(admittedly not one of the sexual encounters he’s most proud of); on the staircase, where Jimin had
slicked up the banister with furniture polish during his mad-dash to escape the manor after he’d lit
Jeongguk’s plumage on fire.

He’s everywhere. Everywhere, Jeongguk broods, but in my bed. He’s well aware that he’s being
more than a little selfish, and Yoongi would probably smack him upside the head if he wasn’t in
the middle of his afternoon nap session.

Jeongguk exhales heavily as he makes his way up the stairs to the second floor and tries to refocus
the mess in his head, because what good is a bachelor party if he’s not in the headspace to enjoy it?

What does one wear to a bachelor party? Jeongguk muses to himself. He doesn’t know, having
never gotten married or been invited to any in the human towns. Jeongguk would ask his father if
he were here, but Daeshim, Junghwa, and his other two siblings are out of town delivering last-
minute invitations to anybody and everybody they remember from before the war.

It’s a bit embarrassing to have his parents inviting their friends to his wedding, but since
Jeongguk’s friend circle is astonishingly small, they’d really had no other option. An unfortunate
consequence of seventy years’ worth of bad attitude.
Jeongguk passes the row of guest bedrooms on the second floor on his way towards the smaller
wooden staircase that leads up to the fourth floor. He pads past Namjoon’s bedroom and is halfway
through passing by Yoongi’s on carefully-stealthy feet when he hears Jimin’s voice from across
the hall. The sound of it makes Jeongguk freeze as though he’s caught in a spell, because Jimin has
that kind of power over him.

“Taehyung, it hurts. Stop- ah!” Jimin’s voice carries through the wooden door and into the
hallway.

The small, irrational part of Jeongguk’s brain that’s still determined to make him into a terrible
person seethes at the lick of pain in Jimin’s tone. Jeongguk inhales, reminds himself that Taehyung
would never do anything to hurt Jimin, and-

Taehyung interrupts his train of thought. “Gods, would you just keep still?” he snaps loudly, “I
wouldn’t be hurting you so badly if you weren’t moving so much.”

“The whole point of doing this is so that I can move. It’s- fuck, it’s too tight!” Jimin hisses in pain.

Jeongguk’s brain empties.

Kill Taehyung , that venomous voice in his head hisses.

“Don’t be such a bitch about this,” Taehyung harrumphs, clearly put out, “If you can’t do it with
me, how the hell are you going to do it with Jeongguk?”

There are probably a variety of ways to interpret the words that leave Taehyung’s mouth, but
Jeongguk is only concerned about the one that makes his blood boil. In two quick strides,
Jeongguk crosses the hallway. He lightly raps his knuckles against the polished cedarwood door,
and calls, saccharinely sweet, “So, I know that you’re not railing my finance in there, Taehyung,
because you’re a smart, smart Nøkken who doesn’t want to be death-punched into the next
century. But still-- is everything okay in there?”

Abruptly, the voices die off. Jeongguk can faintly hear the sounds of Jimin and Taehyung
exchanging hushed, hurried whispers. Something ‘thunks’ onto the ground, and there’s a brief yelp
of pain. Jeongguk bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, tells himself on loop how he’s being a
complete idiot.

Still, his heart beats erratically in his chest until Jimin’s voice reassures through the door,
“Everything’s fine in here, Jeongguk. Promise.”

Jeongguk hesitates. “...I’m going to choose to believe you.”

“Good. Why don’t you go find- ouch!” Jimin exclaims. There’s some more rustling, and then he
adds, “Go get ready, pigeon. I’ll be down in a bit.”

Grimacing at the endearment with less hatred than he should probably feel, Jeongguk takes a step
away from the door. “Yeona’s looking for you, Tae. Something about a ‘strategy session’.”

“I’ll be right there!” Taehyung calls from behind the door. “And get lost! We’re leaving in an hour
for the tavern, so you should at least try to make yourself look presentable.”

Jeongguk nods, though neither of them can hear him, and makes his way further down the hall on
his way towards his study. His heartbeat slows with every stair he climbs. It’s for the best, since
Jeongguk was fairly certain that he was a heartbeat from ripping the door off of its hinges to tear
Taehyung apart for hurting Jimin-- no matter what the context.
He passes the still-under-construction third floor, hurries swiftly up towards the top level of the
manor. Jeongguk recently moved all of the pieces of furniture that still lingered in his childhood
bedroom up to his study. He’d like to be able to sleep in the semi-circle of family rooms, tucked in
between his family members’ rooms, but after waking from a mid-sleep panic attack and finding
himself alone in a closed off, mostly dark room, Jeongguk had nearly torn the place to shreds.

It had taken Jimin thirty minutes to talk him down. That was the last time Jeongguk slept in his
childhood bedroom. The space that the windowed walls of the study provide soothe Jeongguk
whenever he wakes up in a cold sweat-- the combination of seeing the stars, feeling Jimin in his
arms, and breathing in the space is the only way Jeongguk can rest.

He twists open the golden doorknob and steps into the room. The setting sun is even brighter in
this room, but Jeongguk doesn’t have nearly enough time to enjoy it. There’s a lot of effort to be
put into making himself presentable for Jimin tonight. It has to be better than the current grey-
trousers-black-tunic combo he has on now.

With a click of his fingers, Jeongguk’s clothing evaporates off of his body. “Let’s see what we
have,” Jeongguk mutters to himself. He beckons toward the chest of drawers across the way. All of
the drawers slide open in tandem, and articles of clothing pour out of their gaping maws. Tunics,
coats, socks, and trousers of all cuts and colors swirl around Jeongguk in concentric circles.

Just go make yourself presentable enough that Jimin regrets his ultimatum-- Yeona’s suggestion
rings loud and clear in his ears.

Jeongguk smiles devilishly, because if Jimin wants to play dirty tonight, Jeongguk certainly isn’t
going to pull any punches. He snaps his fingers again, cycling through the circles of garments that
ring around him until Jeongguk finds the set he wants.

He settles on nothing short of perfection. The base layer of clothing is almost identical to his
current ensemble-- it’s a simple, sleeveless tunic that hugs his chest and the pair of almost-too-tight
trousers that he knows drives Jimin crazy. But the panache is in the details-- a set of golden cuffs,
one that snaps at his upper biceps, connected to the smaller golden cuffs at his wrists by gold
chains so fine that they look like spider silk; golden earrings that drip from his ear lobes to brush
the column of his throat; star-cut rubies that climb up the shell of his ear, strung through the little
holes Yeona punched there years ago.

Jeongguk admires himself in the mirror across the way for a few thoroughly self-satisfied minutes.
The golden tattoos that swirl across his arms and shoulders are on full display, but something is
amiss. Jeongguk looks for a moment, examining himself closely, before he discovers what it is.

“Aha!” he hoots excitedly. Jeongguk clicks his fingers for the last time, and his hair changes from
its usual chestnut-brown to a light, sandy blonde.

Perfect, he muses, all of the unused clothes falling to a sad heap on the floor as Jeongguk preens.
Jimin doesn’t stand a chance.

Apparently, it’s Jeongguk who doesn’t stand a chance. Jeongguk looks good, he knows he looks
good, but Jimin-- Jimin chose violence .
Jeongguk doesn’t even bother looking around at the rest of the Fae in the room. His eyes zero in on
Jimin, laser focused as he drinks in the details. Jimin’s got on a flowy red, ruffled long-sleeved
tunic that Jeongguk has never seen before-- he’d remember seeing the way it clings to Jimin’s
curves.

Just like Jeongguk would’ve remembered the heeled boots that give Jimin an unfair few inches, or
the high-waisted black trousers that cinch in Jimin’s waist. The front of the trousers is studded
with silver buttons that shine brighter than Jimin’s shit-eating smile. They match Jimin’s silver
hair, pushed back off his forehead and styled perfectly by Taehyung’s skillful hands.

But what takes Jeongguk’s breath away, even more than the light rouge that tints Jimin’s lips, is
the engagement ring glittering on Jimin’s left ring finger. Jeongguk’s engagement ring.

Violence, Jeongguk thinks, mouth suddenly dry, Pure violence. All Jeongguk wants to do is surge
forward, whisk Jimin to their bedroom, rip all of his clothes off, and spend their last unmarried
night worshipping every inch of Jimin’s body-- but he doesn’t get to do any of it.

“Is Jeongguk breathing?” Taehyung whispers entirely too loud.

Namjoon scoffs. “Doubtful.”

Jeongguk takes a step forward, hyper-focused on Jimin’s sinful getup. He doesn’t even get a
chance to savor the way Jimin’s eyes widen and darken as they drink in Jeongguk. “Where have
you been hiding those clothes?” Jeongguk demands, coming to a halt inches in front of Jimin.

“Do you like?” Jimin simpers.

He has to be joking, Jeongguk growls internally. “Do I like ?” Jeongguk hisses, hands moving up to
settle on Jimin’s hips possessively, “The things I want to-”

Yeona claps her hands together. “Okay! Stop right there, sir!” she shouts in the silence of the foyer,
“I don’t want to be irreparably scarred.”

Her words pull a chorus of laughs from the other Fae, including Jimin. He titters playfully, but
Jeongguk has a hard time finding the humor in this situation. Jeongguk can’t even move; for all of
his cool confidence, there’s a storm of irritation blooming in his chest because he won’t be staying
with Jimin tonight.

Jimin will go to his cottage tonight, just like they planned, and will take these clothes off by
himself. What a waste, Jeongguk sighs.

“Is everybody ready?” Hoseok chimes in, pulling Jeongguk from his rapidly-swirling thoughts.
Jeongguk casts a glance over Jimin’s shoulder at Hoseok. He’s drenched in purple silks the exact
same color of his irises, and Seokjin hangs on his arm. Hoseok jabs a finger at the large mirror
across the foyer. “I’m ready to jump us.”

Jimin pulls away from Jeongguk entirely, and Jeongguk swallows a noise of displeasure. “Just
about,” Jimin smiles. There’s something suspicious in his tone, something that Jeongguk can’t
read but that promises trouble nonetheless. It tells Jeongguk that Jimin has another trick up his
sleeve. Jeongguk isn’t sure that he’ll survive whatever it is.

Hoseok motions for them all to join hands. “Alright. Ready in three.”

“I hate doing this,” Malchin grumbles somewhere behind Jeongguk, “I always poop weird after.”
He links their hands together, and Jeongguk doesn’t have a moment to tell him to shut up before
Hoseok is leading them through the rippling surface of the mirror.

Jeongguk follows after Jimin, holds his hand in his own tightly. Just before Jimin steps into the
liquid mirror, he peers over his shoulder. The last thing Jeongguk sees before he disappears into the
portal is Jimin’s impish smile.

It swirls something to life in Jeongguk’s stomach-- something entirely inappropriate to be feeling

while in the company of other Fae. Jeongguk smashes it down mercilessly, cramming it back into
the dark corner of his mind that spawned it, and steps into the mirror after Jimin.

As soon as he enters, Jeongguk’s body disappears in an effervescent swirl of golden bubbles. He

disintegrates, becomes invisible as every atom in his body is bended and refracted. Multicolored
light races past his form. It moves in every direction, tries to tug him away from Hoseok’s
carefully placed hook. Jeongguk resists and holds onto the feeling of Jimin’s hand in his own.

The entire process only takes a few milliseconds, but time stretches out in the tunnel of light. By
the time all of them reappear in one of the rooms in the tavern they’d chosen, Jeongguk feels like
he’s aged a couple of years.

Hoseok looks a little worse for wear. After he does a quick headcount to make sure none of the
eight Fae were pulled away into the void, he collapses in half, hands on his knees. “Gods,” Hoseok
pants, “That was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me,” Namjoon grouches, plucking an invisible piece of lint off of his black and
gold ensemble. He frowns, “I think one of the buttons of my shirt popped off in the tunnel. I’m
never getting it back now.”

Taehyung slaps his shoulder playfully. “It’s your own fault for trying to beef up.” Yoongi wisely
stays quiet, but he offers a nod of agreement.

“Hey, hey!” Malchin interjects right as Namjoon opens his mouth to protest, “We didn’t come here
to have lovers’ quarrels.” He puffs out his chest, looks pointedly around at all of the other Fae in
the room, and booms, “What did we come here for?”

When no one immediately answers, Malchin rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

“Oh, I was sort of preparing to tune out whatever monologue you had planned,” Yeona sasses
dryly.

Malchin swipes out a wing to push Yeona out of the way. “We came here to get drunk. We came
here to get wasted!” he calls. Surprisingly, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin all let out a ‘whoop!’
of agreement. Ninety percent of the time, Jeongguk sort of wants to kill Malchin, but if there’s one
thing he’s good for, it’s starting a party.

The cheers seem to boost Malchin’s confidence, because he continues, “We came here to have
Jimin see one last dick before he’s stuck with Jeongguk’s for the rest of his life!”

“We did not come here for that,” Jeongguk snarls, but Jimin is laughing, so he lets it go.

It’s not like Malchin pays him any attention. The sound of pulsing music pumps up through the
wooden floorboard below their feet. To the rhythm, Malchin starts pumping his fist. “We came
here to party!” he shouts, “Let’s get trashed , men!”

“I’m here, too,” Yeona grumbles.

Everyone selectively ignores her interruption. Malchin folds his wings and flicks his finger. The
door to the upstairs room they traveled into swings open with a bang. Music floods the room
without a second warning-- it’s the thumping, groove kind of music that Jeongguk knows is spelled
to be played without any live musicians.

Despite his lingering upset, Jeongguk feels excitement growing in his chest. It’s been so long since
he’s been to a club, even longer since he’s been dancing , that he can’t quite help the way his heart
jumps in his chest.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls over the sound of the pulsing music. He squeezes Jeongguk’s hand,
following along after the Namjoon-Seokjin-Malchin cha-cha line that leads them out of the door.
Jeongguk offers him a bright smile in return.

The upstairs portion of the tavern is fairly bland, little more than polished wood walls, floors, and
decorations. But as the group makes their way down the red-carpeted staircase, everything gets
much more interesting.

Music blares so loudly that the walls shake. Enchanted lights of all hues shine from the ceiling and
floor, swiping past one another in waves of muted purples and aching blues. Every now and then,
all of the lights except for the dance floor blink out, illuminating the room in hazy yellows that
pulse to the beat of the music. Fae of every species and shape swirl across the dancefloor, adorned
in a myriad of jewels and finery. In the corner are little ceramic pots, spelled to spew white fog into
the room.

The main attraction, however, are the carved-out alcoves that litter that room. Each of the relief
spaces is filled with a singularly-colored light. A pole sticks in the middle of the alcove; skilled
dancers twirl and drop along the polished surface. When the lights go out, the lighted alcoves shine
brightly, more than enough to highlight the dancers until the next time the rest of the lights return.

It’s dark enough on the floor that no one recognizes Jeongguk’s group as they enter. It’s a relief,
because Jeongguk has no intention of dealing with angry ex-Bureau employees tonight.

“Do you want a drink?” Jimin shouts over the pulse of the music. He gestures over towards the bar.
“I’m headed over there with Tae!”

Jeongguk nods his agreement, and Jimin takes off behind the scantily-clad Taehyung. A moment
later, Malchin hooks an arm across Jeongguk’s shoulders. “Come on, Jeongguk! Let loose!”

And, though it takes a moment, Jeongguk tries to tap into who he was before all of the killing-his-
family-turning-into-a-Nightmare-hating-life drama. He calls to mind the time he turned Namjoon’s
head into a kickball, the time he tie-dyed Yeona’s plumage, the other time he turned Namjoon’s
head into a kickball.

Have fun, Jeongguk can hear Jimin urging in his head, You deserve it.

So Jeongguk does. He tilts his head back, cheers at the top of his lungs, and follows his older
brother into the swell of bodies on the dance floor.

Most of the night passes in a blur, flashing vignettes of emotion.

Dancing in the throng of Fae on the light-up floor, Jimin pressed to his chest; Seokjin standing on
the table and shimmying his hips while Hoseok cheers him on from the floor; Taehyung somehow
managing to convince group of complete strangers to crowd-surf him across the dancefloor; Yeona
scream-singing the lyrics to whatever song comes on and missing half of the words; Jimin
growling at all of the Fae who try to flirt with Jeongguk, placing a possessive hand on Jeongguk’s
thigh when they get too close.

And there’s alcohol, probably too much. Malchin seems to have the uncanny ability to summon
pint glasses, brandy snifters, and shot glasses with a glance. They just appear in Jeongguk’s hand
or on the table in front of him. The group does body shots off of each other-- and if Jeongguk
lingers just a bit too long on Jimin’s sweat-slick collarbone, no one calls him on it.

Truth be told, it’s the most fun Jeongguk has had in a long time. Actually, it’s quite possibly the
most fun Jeongguk has ever had in his life. He’s never had the opportunity to let go and just be
young. It’s a release Jeongguk hadn’t known he’d needed, and one that he’ll have to (begrudgingly)
thank Taehyung and Yeona for planning when he recovers from his inevitable hangover.

“I’ll be right back,” Jimin calls, tugging Jeongguk forcibly out of his blissed-out tipsiness.

Jeongguk hums. “Sure thing, love. I’ll be here.” He plops down in one of the polished-leather
armchairs, wings spilling over the backrest. Jeongguk watches as Jimin disappears into the crowd,
presumably heading back towards the bar. There’s really nothing better than watching Jimin giggle
and lean heavily on Jeongguk’s chest, cheeks flushed from drinking, but Jimin has an alarmingly
high alcohol tolerance.

He drinks like a fish, Jeongguk muses fuzzily, and then spends entirely too long trying to decide if
that simile makes sense.

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk frowns as the Nøkken approaches, “Does the phrase ‘drinks like a fish’
make sense?”

Taehyung doesn’t deign to answer, which is probably for the best. Instead, he yells, “How drunk
are you? Drunk enough to pay attention, or, like, ‘on the floor’ drunk?”

“I’m sitting down,” Jeongguk says in reply.

It appears to satisfy Taehyung, because he shuffles behind Jeongguk and pivots his chair around
until it’s directly facing the red-lit dancers’ alcove in the adjacent wall. There’s nobody on the
pole, and Jeongguk turns to look at Taehyung, confused. “Pay attention to what?” he calls, but
Taehyung only takes a seat nearby.

Around him, the music swirls to a fever pitch, thrumming faster and faster in the lead-up to the
drop of the beat. All of the others sit in a semi-circle around the alcove-- everybody but Jimin.
Jeongguk is half a second away from asking where he is when the beat of the music hits.

Abruptly, the lights cut out. For a heartbeat, Jeongguk is swathed in darkness. And then he notices
what he’s supposed to be looking at. It’s Jimin.

In the alcove.

Holding onto the pole.

Jeongguk sobers instantly, because there’s no way. There’s no way .

But there Jimin is, right there in the alcove. The moment Jimin seeks out Jeongguk’s eyes, flashing
him a grin, Jeongguk sits forward in his chair. This is rapidly shaping up to be the best night of his
life.

“Get it!” Taehyung hollers, and then Jimin moves.

Jeongguk has never seen Jimin dance. He didn’t know that Jimin could dance, but Jimin moves
like water. He grabs onto the pole with one arm, turning under it as he pivots on the ball of his feet.
Jimin tosses his head back and lifts his legs clean off of the floor. They spread parallel to the floor
in a maneuver Jeongguk is very intent to see the next time he has Jimin in their bedroom.

A cold sweat breaks out across the back of Jeongguk’s neck the longer he stares at Jimin. When
Jimin windmills his legs, opening them deliciously, Jeongguk feels the first stirrings of his cock in
his pants. The problem only increases as Jimin rights himself, kicks himself into a spin, and drops
to the floor sinfully slow. Jeongguk watches-- hands gripping the armrest of his chair, jaw on the
floor, heat building in his gut-- as Jimin descends.

Just before he hits the floor, Jimin vanishes, and Jeongguk stops breathing.

Anticipation, bright and hot lances through him. He’d forgotten that Jimin could turn invisible, and
the prospect of having him appear anywhere at a moment’s notice is so incredibly hot that
Jeongguk can’t help the way his wings instinctively flick out.

They knock over a drink on the table behind him and someone curses, but none of it matters. In the
next heartbeat, Jimin reappears. He’s out of the alcove this time, much closer than the last time
Jeongguk had seen him.

Subconsciously, Jeongguk spreads his legs. A growl builds in the base of his throat. He wants
Jimin sitting on his lap, bouncing on his cock. Now.

But Jimin has other plans. Tantalizingly slow, Jimin turns his profile towards Jimin and bends
down over his legs. The leather creaks under the pressure of Jeongguk’s hold. Control yourself, he
screams internally, eyes glued to Jimin’s form, Control yourse-

His efforts are thrown out the window the moment Jimin traces a hand up his leg, ankle to thigh, as
he rights himself. Jeongguk watches in awe as a line of fire pours from his fingers, spreads up his
calf to his thigh.

“Holy shit,” Malchin curses next to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk’s breathing hitches, because along the line of fire that Jimin has drawn up his leg, his
pants start to burn away. The black smokes as it disappears, higher and higher. Jeongguk is on the
verge of jumping out of his seat and covering Jimin’s body with his wings when he sees it.

The last of his brain cells that’d somehow managed to hold their own in the presence of Park Jimin
fizzle out until Jeongguk is left with two thoughts.

Lace.

Chains.

The words cycle around in Jeongugk’s brain so quickly that he thinks he might actually be saying
them out loud. Jeongguk doesn’t know. Time and space have ceased to exist in the presence of
Jimin-- his Jimin-- clad in a pair of delicate white-lace shorts. They hug his ass delightfully, tuck
up under his flowy red shirt. A chain of interlocked silver circles hugs Jimin’s hipline, and the
tendrils that spill from the belt chime teasingly against the softness of Jimin’s inner thighs.
“Someone get me money!” Namjoon catcalls. The rest of the group laughs their agreement, but
Jimin looks unfazed by the noise. He’s just as focused on Jeongguk as Jeongguk is on him; the
world narrows and sucks in on itself until it’s just Jimin, dancing for his fiancé.

Do you like it? Jimin’s half-lidded expression seems to whisper as he raises his hands about his
head, shimmying his hips in time to the beat. Do you like your present?

Jeongguk licks his lips. I do, he thinks just as Jimin plunges his hands down and throws his head
back. The moment his hands drop, Jimin’s shirt burns away in a flash of red-gold. In its place is a
silver choker-- it connects to the delicate silver strings that cascade down Jimin’s chest, under his
arms, onto his back.

It’s Taehyung’s handiwork. Jeongguk has never wanted to kiss the Nøkken so badly.

Like the predator he is, Jimin stalks closer to Jeongguk in his heeled boots. They click against the
floor as Jimin approaches. He wears a confident expression on his face, though the way his eyes
glance down at Jeongguk’s rapidly-tenting pants betray his nerves.

Jeongguk lets his legs spread even more, just to tortue Jimin as much as Jimin is torturing him.
This close up, Jeongguk can see the slight sheen of sweat that dusts across Jimin’s collarbones. He
can make out the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his pupils dilate. In one smooth motion,
Jimin settles forward until he’s hovering directly over Jeongguk’s lap. He’s close enough to grind
down on Jeongguk’s erection, but he doesn’t.

With an impatient huff, Jeongguk reaches up, desperate to touch Jimin anywhere. He aims for
Jimin’s waist. Jeongguk means to grab him and crush him down onto his lap, momentarily
forgetting that the others are here as well.

He doesn’t have to worry. The moment his fingers get too close, Jimin catches Jeongguk by the
wrists. “No touching,” he tuts apologetically.

Jeongguk can tell he doesn’t mean a word of it. “I’ll touch if I want to,” Jeongguk hisses. His
wings quake behind him, and Jeongguk twists out of Jimin’s hold easily. He shoots them out again,
lightning fast, and grips Jimin’s hips tightly.

The sensation pulls a gasp from Jimin. Jimin takes a deep breath and says stubbornly, “No, you
won’t.” A heartbeat later, his entire body lights on fire.

Jeongguk wrenches his fingers away before they can be burned. Frustration mounts and mounts in
his stomach, mixing with the heat in his lower stomach. “ Jimin,” he snarls.

“ Jeongguk,” Jimin mocks with a smile. He’s wreathed in flames from head to toe, clad in lace and
chains, and yet has the audacity to tease Jeongguk even more.

Something inside of Jeongguk snaps. It’s a feeling he hasn’t had since the first time he’d been with
Jimin. It’s a kind of pressing desperation, a need to have Jimin right this second. Jeongguk white-
knuckles his self-control, but it’s not enough. He’s well aware of all of his friends’ eyes on him, but
he doesn’t give a shit.

“Let me touch you,” Jeongguk speaks in a low, warning voice. Around him, lights start to swirl.
He can feel his golden tattoos spinning themselves into a tizzy on his shoulders, a

sure indicator of the power building in his body. He’s losing control over himself, hard and fast.

Excitement flashes across Jimin’s eyes. He dips down, puts himself out, and drags a finger up the
column of Jeongguk’s throat all the way to his chin. Jimin leans down close enough for his breath
to fan across Jeongguk’s lips. Right when Jeongguk is sure that Jimin is finally going to cave,
Jimin just mutters sweetly, “Not a chance.”

He moves to lean away, but Jeongguk’s fragile hold on himself breaks in half. It’s too much--
being denied staying in the same bed as his fiancé, being teased with the sight of Jimin in lace, and
unable to do anything about it.

Jeongguk’s hand whips out faster than anyone in the group can process. It encircles Jimin’s wrist
easily. His fingers dig into the flesh a little tighter than normal. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, but
he doesn’t have to. The way that Jimin shudders is enough to indicate that he understands the quiet
hunger in Jeongguk’s stare.

At that exact moment, the song ends. It switches over to a slower ballad.

“Gods above, Jimin,” Seokjin hoots, “That was incredible!”

Seokjin’s voice cuts the tension in the air in half. Jimin blinks like he’s coming out of a haze. He
smiles at Seokjin confidently as his clothes burn themselves back onto his body, fully clothed once
again, and says, “Wasn’t it? I’ve been practicing.”

The words are probably meant to sound cocky, but Jeongguk sees the way Jimin’s knees shake.
And even though Jimin’s newly-covered body evaporates the worst of Jeongguk’s appetite, he’s
not sated at all. Not even a little bit.

Jimin walks away towards Taehyung, accepting high-fives from the other Fae and a glass of water
from Hoseok. Jeongguk watches as he goes.

The tightness in Jeongguk’s pants hasn’t eased a bit, and it’s making him crazy. Thoughts swirl
around in Jeongguk’s head, fast and hard. He’s not sleeping at Somnus tonight. Not without Jimin.
He’ll fight to the death if he has to, but there’s no way that Jimin is going to be in another bed all
night after that strip-tease.

Jeongguk sits still as the tavern swirls around him, completely unaware of his world-shattering
frustration. He sits and formulates his plan of attack.

One thing is absolutely certain.

He’s not sleeping alone tonight.

Jimin stumbles out of the tavern, satisfyingly tipsy. He leans heavily on Taehyung’s arm for
balance. Jimin’s head whirls, but it’s not just from the alcohol coursing through his system. Most of
the lightning that fills his veins is Jeongguk’s doing. Jimin can still perfectly picture Jeongguk in
his mind’s eye-- legs spread, hands gripping the leather chair, eyes dark. It’s enough to send a lick
of desire rushing straight through Jimin every time he thinks about it.

The fact that Jimin can feel Jeongguk’s eyes on him right now, boring a hole into the back of his
head, certainly isn’t helping matters. The nine of them spill out onto the midnight-drenched
cobblestone road that surrounds the small Fae tavern.

Around them, nocturnal Fae litter the courtyard. There’s a glowing fountain in the center of the
circular plaza that’s lit from within with will-o’-the-wisps. A few other taverns nearby shine from
within with multicolored lights, but they’re all spelled to keep the thrumming music inside their
walls.

“ Gods , do I know how to plan a bachelor party or what?” Taehyung hollars into the night. A few
heads turn at the enthusiasm lighting up Taehyung’s tone so late at night, but he brushes them off
completely.

Jimin laughs his agreement. “It was perfect, Tae. Perfect ,” he hums, and then lowers his voice to
ask, “Did you see Jeongguk?”

“I honestly thought he was going to jump you in front of all of us,” Taehyung admits, “You played
dirty. Really dirty. I felt like I was cheating on my boyfriends by watching you.”

The praise brings a smile to Jimin’s face, even if thinking about the dance he’d done for Jeongguk
earlier makes his gut twist with want. He still wears the lacy underthings underneath his clothes.
The waistband brushes across his midriff, hugs his hips. Truth be told, taunting Jeongguk was a
test of Jimin’s own willpower-- he’s not entirely certain how he’s going to spend tonight alone.

He is, actually, but what he has planned for himself certainly pales in comparison for what
Jeongguk could be doing to him. It’s almost disappointing, but Jimin lets the thought go. He’d been
the one to advocate for tradition, and Jimin will be damned if he’s the one to break their agreement
when he’d pushed so hard for it.

“Are we ready to split off?” Hoseok calls from behind them. He walks arm-in-arm with Seokjin,
swinging their hands merrily as they walk.

Taehyung spins on his heel, walking backwards. He says, “Just about. You’re all taking Jeongguk
back home, yes?”

Jimin watches as Jeongguk’s face darkens at the reminder of the fact that he’ll be apart from Jimin
all night. As if he can feel the tension slowly building in Jeongguk, Namjoon claps a hand on his
shoulder. “Yeah,” he grins, “We’ll knock him out if we have to.”

“Say your goodbyes then,” Hoseok instructs. He heads over to the fountain, fingertips already
glowing gold in preparation of opening another traveling spell. “I’ll have the portal up and working
in a minute.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, just fixes Jimin with a stare so intense that Jimin can feel his
cheeks heating up. He doesn’t move an inch from Namjoon’s sides, but Jimin can see the way that
his feathers puff up. It’s a kind of posturing that Jimin has never seen before-- usually, when
Jeongguk gets riled up, his feathers settle or tremble. But they never look like this, puffed like
Jeongguk is trying to intimidate him.

“What, no goodbye kiss?” Jimin teases to cover the nerves rolling to a boil in his veins.

Slowly, Jeongguk cocks his head to the side. His eyes narrow. “Do you think that you deserve
one?” he asks, voice completely unaffected.

Jimin blinks. The words are mean, but there’s no sign of anger anywhere on Jeongguk’s body.
Whatever this is, it’s completely new. Jimin’s surprised to realize how much he likes it. Jimin can
feel his spine straighten, pulled to his full height at the authority coloring Jeongguk’s voice. For
probably only the third time in his life, Jimin finds himself stammering.

“I-” he mutters, cheeks reddening faster than is probably reasonable, “I-”

“You think about it,” Jeongguk says calmly. He extricates himself from Namjoon’s grip, walks
past Jimin without so much as a backwards glance. But as he passes Jimin, Jeongguk brushes the
fingertips of one hand feather-light over the curve of Jimin’s hips.

Jimin shivers, but Jeongguk leaves anyway. It’s a game, Jimin realizes as a wave of heat pulses
through his body. He doesn’t know the rules or even the objective, but Jeongguk is playing Jimin
easily. It takes every single ounce of self-control for Jimin to pretend like he’s totally unaffected by
Jeongguk’s attitude.

“Let’s go,” Jimin smiles brightly at Taehyung, firmly ignoring the ‘what the hell was that?’ look
on Taehyung’s face. “Big day tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep.”

Jimin thinks that he hears Jeongguk scoff behind him as he walks away with Taehyung, but he
can’t be sure.

The walk to Jimin’s old cottage in the woods is objectively very short. It’s only a half hour’s
journey from the Fae village they’d come from, but it feels longer tonight. Something hangs in the
air surrounding Jimin as he and Taehyung make their way down the darkened, moss-ridden path.
The presence that pervades the forest hides in the trees, swirls along the boughs, whispers in the
restless rustling of the foliage.

Jimin has lived in his cottage for almost a century, but he’s never felt like the woods were
watching him before. Even with Taehyung walking right next to him, chattering away about the
wedding ceremony tomorrow, Jimin feels on edge. But it’s not the kind of tense that would have
Jimin reaching into his chest to tug on the swell of fire magic he has; this kind of tension is
anticipatory, the same kind that hits just before lightning strikes.

Taehyung bids Jimin goodbye as soon as they enter the clearing that surrounds Jimin’s cottage. He
walks away, leaves Jimin alone as the woods look on, waiting for their opportunity to pounce.

Hurrying his footsteps, Jimin rushes to his door. He unlocks it with a flick of his fingers, slams it
behind him, and leans heavily against the wood the moment he’s safely tucked inside the cottage.
Breathe , Jimin coaches himself, Breathe. But the feeling hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s stronger in
his house. His bookcase, his walls, his windows all have eyes, and they’re focused solely on
Jimin.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jimin mumbles under his breath. He wipes a hand down his face and
pushes off from the door, fully intending to light a fire in his hearth, collapse onto his bed, and
dream about Jeongguk’s hands all over him all night. He clicks his fingers to summon a bit of his
magic.

Warm light immediately floods the room as the fire springs to life, chasing away the shadows that
gathered under the cover of darkness. It’s only then that Jimin notices the figure seated over by the
window across the room.

Jimin’s heart leaps into his throat as he takes in Jeongguk. He sits splayed back on Jimin’s chair,
legs spread wide, one arm lazily draping itself over the wooden backrest of the chair. His golden
wings spread behind him, wide and powerful in the low lighting.

“Jeongguk-” Jimin only gets to finish half of his stunned gasp before the sound of the lock snicking
shut behind him cuts him off.

Jeongguk growls low in his throat, “What. The hell . Were you thinking?” His eyes are narrowed
with want.

“W-What?” Jimin finds himself struggling to choke out, startled into almost-silence by the way
Jeongguk’s entire presence fills up the room.

“I asked what the fuck you thought you were doing,” Jeongguk snarls, voice somehow managing to
drop even more, “Teasing me. Playing with me. What were you hoping for?” His wings flick out
powerfully as he speaks, knocking over a vase on the side table by Jimin’s fireplace. It shatters to
the ground, and it’s a testament to how safe Jimin feels with Jeongguk that he doesn’t flinch in fear
at the tone of Jeongguk’s voice.

Jimin licks his lips, trying to figure out how this is going to play out. It’s clear what Jeongguk
wants. His eyes are dark, expression brooding. “It was a gift,” Jimin gulps, not even a little
ashamed at the fact that he can feel desire blooming through every one of his nerve-endings.

“That wasn’t a gift,” Jeongguk hisses, “That was you taunting me.”

“Someone had to do it,” Jimin teases, testing the waters to figure out how in control Jeongguk
wants to be.

Jeongguk’s nostrils flare. He lifts a hand, beckons Jimin to come closer with one crooked finger.
“Come here.”

Carefully, Jimin pads closer. Don’t do it, the rapidly-shrinking, rational portion of his
consciousness urges, Stay strong! But Jimin’s legs have a mind of their own. They carry him over
to Jeongguk, stopping only once he’s within reach.

Jeongguk wastes no time in shooting his hands out. They grip Jimin’s hips hard enough that Jimin
knows he’ll be wearing the imprints of Jeongguk’s fingers for days. Jimin gasps at the sensation,
mind already descending into that hazy vacancy that only Jeongguk seems to be capable of pulling
out of him.

“You thought that you could, what, just get me riled up and walk away?” Jeongguk asks, digging
his fingers into the soft flesh of Jimin’s hips, “Leave me alone for the night?” Jeongguk chuckles,
low and dark. “I don’t think so, darling.”

Jimin feels his heartbeat rapidly increasing in his chest, already beating hard in anticipation of
what’s to come. He puts his hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself.

What about tradition! Jimin’s brain screams at him, You wanted tradition!

But Jeongguk is staring up at him, and he’s gripping his hips so hard that Jimin’s brain just sort of
turns off. All of his senses focus on the places that Jeongguk is touching him, looking at him.

Fuck tradition , Jimin decides. He sits himself down on Jeongguk’s lap not even a second later,
right on top of Jeongguk’s slowly-hardening length. He snakes his arms around Jeongguk’s neck,
tugs him closer until he can feel Jeongguk’s breath on his skin. Jimin shivers.

“Are you sure?” Jeongguk asks, but it’s strained. “I don’t think I can stop myself if you let me
start.”

Jimin looks up, catches Jeongguk’s eyes. They’re cloudy with need, but still carry some of the
softness that tells Jimin that Jeongguk isn’t completely lost to the persona he’s currently wearing.
“I’m sure,” Jimin reassures.

Jeongguk nods, and then all of the gentleness in his face melts clean away as Jeongguk fully
surrenders to the domineering side of him Jimin rarely gets to see. “You’re that needy, huh?”
Jeongguk teases as he grinds Jimin down forcefully on his lap, “Already so desperate for me to be
inside of you, right?”

For a second, just a second, Jimin actually considers confirming. But it’s so rare that this side of
Jeongguk comes out-- the side that likes to pin Jimin down and leave the kind of bruises that Jimin
can feel days later. And Jimin didn’t set out in a set of lacey lingerie, put on a show at the tavern,
and grind down on Jeongguk to be polite .

“No,” Jimin denies with a smirk that he knows riles Jeongguk up even more. He’s more than aware
how much Jeongguk loves when he’s bratty.

The fingers on Jimin’s hips twitch. “Not feeling like being honest tonight, are you, darling?”
Jeongguk mutters, leaning in to breathe the words right against the curve of Jimin’s ear. It makes
him shiver, goosebumps springing to life along the column of his throat, but Jimin is not ready to
give in so easily.

He laces his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair and tugs hard enough that his head is wrenched back.
Something dangerous glints in Jeongguk’s eyes, and a growl leaves his throat. “And if I’m not,”
Jimin teases, pushing Jeongguk right up to his breaking point, “What’re you gonna do about it?”
Just to punctuate his point, Jimin grinds down smoothly on Jeongguk’s lap.

In an instant, Jeongguk’s hand whips away from his hip and delivers a firm ‘smack!’ to the meat of
Jimin’s ass. Jimin jolts forward, shuddering from head to toe as desire licks up his spine. It lights
him from within until he’s as taut as a bow.

“Keep testing me and you’ll find out,” Jeongguk warns. With his free hand, he tugs Jimin’s hands
out of his hair, and Jimin lets him. Jeongguk tilts his head back in, brushing his lips lightly across
Jimin’s collarbones. It pulls another shiver out of Jimin.

Hips stuttering, Jimin pants, “Maybe I want to find out.”

“Maybe you should be careful what you wish for.” Jimin only gets a second to process the words
before Jeongguk starts sucking on the hollow of his throat, hard and long. His head tilts back in a
moan at the feeling of Jeongguk’s tongue brushing across the skin. It sends tingles straight to his
toes, lightning right to his gut.

Jeongguk pulls away with a ‘pop!’, but only just far enough to choose a new location to mark up. In
between open-mouthed kisses that have Jimin squirming in his lap, Jeongguk whispers, “Are you
still wearing the lace?”

“ Yes ,” Jimin replies, probably too enthusiastic, if Jeongguk’s self-satisfied huff is any indication.
He can feel the lace still clinging to his hips. Every now and then, the cold metal of the chain
harness brushes against one of his nipples and makes him have to stifle gasps.

“Good,” Jeongguk purrs, and then shoves Jimin off of his lap.

As Jimin goes tipping backwards off of Jeongguk, he realizes that he wasn't pushed so much as he
was pulled. There are hands on his shoulders to yank him backwards, and another resting on the
small of his back, but they’re not Jeongguk’s.

It’s that spell-- the one that Jeongguk has only used on him once before, all those months ago. It’s
the one that had Jimin seeing stars , and the one he’s certain is about to spell out certain doom for
him. And if Jimin was horny before, now he’s practically a step away from catching on fire from
the strength of it.

Jeongguk sits in the chair, the picture of calm. “Everything alright?” he coos mockingly, much too
proud of himself.

“You- suck-” Jimin gasps out in separate bursts. The invisible hands on his shoulders move up to
hold his wrists, forcing them apart towards the side of his head. The hand that was resting on his
back pivots around to his front, plays with the hem of his pants. Jimin finds his back arching up as
the hand palms at him through the thin fabric of his trousers.

With a hum, Jeongguk lilts, “You’re the one who asked for this, love. Now take it.” Jeongguk tilts
back in his chair, just enough to kick one leg over the other, and clicks his fingers.

In a second, Jimin’s outerwear dissolves away from his skin. He’s bare, save for the skimpy piece
of lace cupping around his ass and the heeled boots he’d chosen earlier. “ Jeongguk,” Jimin
breathes, head tilted back.

Jeongguk laughs under his breath and waves his finger about. The hands on Jimin multiply, adjust
their positions accordingly. Two of them slide down Jimin’s flanks, tantalizingly slow, before
hefting him up into the air. It’s only for a second, and then they’re tossing Jimin back onto his bed
like he weighs nothing at all.

“You look so beautiful like this, Jimin,” Jeongguk says thoughtfully from his fucking throne of a
chair. He tilts his head to the side, smirking. “So needy. So desperate. It’s adorable.”

I’ll show you adorable, Jimin wants to sass right back, but then the hands return. Jimin doesn’t
know how many of them there are, just that they’re everywhere: two on his thighs, spreading them
apart forcefully; two more than pin his wrists to the bed on either side of his head; one that trails
lower.

Jimin groans, embarrassingly broken. His entire body jerks at the feeling of the hand pushing a
finger inside of him, slicked up with another one of Jeongguk’s spells. His legs kick out uselessly,
but Jimin doesn’t manage to move an inch under Jeongguk’s strong phantom-hands holding him
down.

“Alright?” Jeongguk calls, though the expression he’s wearing tells Jimin that he’s just as affected
at the sight of Jimin being fingered open, spread out in front of him.

Unable to form words, Jimin just nods.

“Good.” Jeongguk’s expression darkens again, and he twirls his finger once more.

A second digit slides into Jimin right next to the first. Jimin’s back arches clean off of the bed as
he’s scissored. Jeongguk knows his anatomy perfectly right now, so there’s no reason for him to be
avoiding Jimin’s prostate, but he is . Because he’s mean.

Jimin opens his mouth to complain, but then another hand walks its way up Jimin’s neck on two
fingers. Smoothly, it presses what Jimin thinks might be a thumb into his mouth.
Across the room, Jeongguk commands, “Suck.”

Honestly, Jimin could cry from how good he feels right now. He’s completely at Jeongguk’s
mercy-- which is something he would never have considered a year ago-- with hands on his legs,
his ass, his mouth. And Jeongguk just sits there across the room, drinking down the sight of Jimin
shaking needily like he was born to do it.

A low fog of something settles into Jimin’s bones until he really has no other option but to follow
instructions. So he sucks, swirls the tongue around the digit in his mouth, moaning out as a third
finger slips into him. There’s pressure on his cock all of a sudden-- it’s a finger, running up and
down his length, tracing the vein there.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk curses as he undoes his belt, “You’re so hot. So pretty and good for me.”

Jimin can’t even argue. He’s too hellbent on chasing the orgasm that Jeongguk is going to give him
to care one iota about what else might be leaving Jeongguk’s mouth right now. It builds and builds
in his lower stomach, but it doesn’t hit until the three fingers inside of him press into his prostate.
They rub across it purposefully, and then Jimin is coming so hard that he almost screams.

Jimin thinks this every time he and Jeongguk have sex, but the orgasm is the best of his life . For a
moment, he actually blacks out, stars swimming across his vision for a few seconds before he
manages to come back down to himself. He breathes in great, gasping gulps of air after the finger
in his mouth pulls out. The rest of the hands follow suit, disappearing into thin air and leaving
Jimin to lie boneless on the softness of his bed.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin mumbles, somehow finding it in himself to want more . He hasn’t even had
Jeongguk’s cock inside of him yet. And Jimin needs it, needs to feel the stretch of it so that he can
fall apart and have Jeongguk put him back together.

On wobbly legs, Jimin pushes himself up and off of the mattress. He knows what a sight he must
be right now-- lacy underthings striped with cum, lips red from being kissed, neck a sight from the
way it’s covered with Jeongguk’s marks.

Jeongguk’s pupils dilate as Jimin approaches. “What is it, darling?” Jeongguk asks, though Jimin
knows very well that Jeongguk is more than aware of what he wants. “You have to ask for what
you need.”

“I want you inside of me,” Jimin pleads, using every weapon in his arsenal to get what he wants.
Just before he climbs onto Jeongguk’s lap, he drops his underwear. The only thing remaining on
his body is the swirl of silver chains sparkling along his chest.

“ Fuck ,” Jeongguk curses, low and throaty.

Jimin settles back onto Jeongguk’s lap, riding Jeongguk through his trousers. “Will you fuck me?”
Jimin asks sweetly, “Please?”

Jeongguk sucks in a breath through his teeth. It’s a harsh pull, one that tells Jimin that Jeongguk is
trying very, very hard to keep his cool. “I can’t,” he says after a moment. His eyes tell a different
story-- they slide up and down Jimin’s body hungrily.

“Why not?” Jimin pouts. He leans in and captures Jeongguk’s lips in a long, hard kiss.

With a hard, regretful swallow, Jeongguk groans, “Because this is all I had time to write in the
bathroom of the tavern.”
 That gets Jimin’s attention. He tilts back, hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders for some stability. “All
you… wrote?” Jimin asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’m praying that you still want to marry me tomorrow,” Jeongguk says with a wince, just as he
begins to glimmer like gold in the sun. “See you tomorrow, my love. Dream of me, will you?”

And with a brief, chaste kiss, Jeongguk disappears.

Jimin blinks once, twice, as everything changes.

He’s not on a chair by the window. He’s not in his underthings, and there isn’t cum drying on his
stomach. Jimin is slumped against the inside of his door, sitting on the ground, unbearably hard in
his pants.

It takes him a minute for him to realize what just happened. When he does, Jimin screeches loud
enough that he’s sure the trees outside shake in fear.

It was a daydream, Jimin understands in righteous indignation, A daydream that he whipped up in

the tavern to get back at me for the dance .

Jimin doesn’t care if Jeongguk is his fiancé-- he’s going to murder him on fucking sight
tomorrow.

Just as soon as he takes care of the problem in his pants.

Chapter End Notes

*laughter intensifies in volume*

and we're just GETTING STARTED >:)

I hope you enjoyed! More chaos to come next weekend. Be prepared for anything. I'll
see myself out.

You can visit me on twitter or Curious Cat if you like! Until then, see you next week~

-Ash
 Part II: In which Pride becomes a Problem
Chapter Summary

“Well, I suggest staying positive, but I’m pretty sure that this is the part where Jimin
divorces you,” Malchin says sympathetically.

Jeongguk is on his feet in an instant, panic dropping back into his system. “We’re not
even married yet!”

“And now you’re not going to be,” Malchin frowns sadly, “It’s unfortunate, but also
completely your fault.”

Chapter Notes

Wow, so: I genuinely forgot what it felt like to receive nice comments about
something I've written, and I just- I am blown way by this story's reception? Seriously,
some of the comments have made me squeal at a frequency that only dogs can hear.
Needless to say, the comments are a bit difficult to keep up with, and I know what
you're thinking: "Really, Ash?? I thought we were done with the you-being-bad-at-
replies phase."

...we're not. :')

Also, I'm currently in an Undisclosed Location with limited WiFi/cellular data access,
so.... that's my excuse for this time. But as I type this, I am SMASHING my way
through all the comments to give all of you the love that you deserve.

I think that I've made excuses long enough. Here's the second chapter! I hope you
enjoy~

Ash's Twitter
My *amazing* beta reader's twitter

The updated Spotify playlist!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jeongguk wakes the next morning to a massive hangover, a cold bed, and a feeling of impending
doom deep in his stomach that tells him that something is very, very wrong. It starts as a creeping
sense of dread, as all bad feelings do. He rolls over on his and Jimin’s manor-bed.
What’s wrong? Jeongguk muses lazily. His fingers absently creep their way over to Jimin’s side of
the bed, empty now that Jimin spent the night at his cabin. And even though there’s this sixth-
sense telling Jeongguk that he needs to be ready for anything right now, the only thing that rushes
his system is pure, unadulterated satisfaction as he remembers the last night.

The small glimpse of Jimin’s face that Jeongguk got just before he ended the daydream last night
was priceless , even if it probably means that Jeongguk is in for the tongue lashing of his life after
the wedding reception tonight. It brings a shit-eating smile to Jeongguk’s face, because even
though Jimin had been the one to start the war, Jeongguk was most definitely the one to finish it.

Grinning ear-to-ear, Jeongguk turns until he’s facing Jimin’s empty pillow. It’s in this position-- on
his side, still dressed in last night’s clothes, hazy early-morning sunlight dripping into the room
from the small gap in the curtains-- that Jeongguk sees it.

There, hanging from a wooden hanger on one of the knobs of Jimin’s dresser, is Jeongguk’s
wedding tunic. Usually, the sight of it would be enough to send him into a mess of warmth and
elation that Jimin said yes to him (to him! ), but this time, the only thing that it manages to give
Jeongguk is a heart attack.

Oh god, Jeongguk thinks, scrambling to his haunches on the bedspread, Oh god oh god oh god.

The tunic itself is still magnificent: it’s sparkling white, cleaner than anything Jeongguk has ever
owned; thin, hand-embroidered swirls of coppery gold trail down the center of the tunic and pour
from the cuffs; small, perfectly clear opals bead across the collar. It’s beautiful, but it’s much,
much -

“Too small,” Jeongguk breathes out in shock. He staggers off of the bed, nearly tripping over his
shoes that are still tossed haphazardly on the floor, and crosses the room in two disbelieving
footsteps. Swallowing hard, Jeongguk picks up the tunic by the hanger.

It’s with ever-increasing, sinking horror that Jeongguk realizes all at once that no, it wasn’t just a
trick of the light and yes, his wedding tunic is indeed the appropriate size for a ten-year-old human
child.

A couple of thoughts make their way through Jeongguk’s mind as he stares at the miniature-sized
version of his tunic.

First and foremost is the redundant realization that his tunic is small. It’s a given for sure, but
Jeongguk’s heart is pumping adrenaline through his veins at an alarmingly fast pace, and he figures
he’s not entirely to blame for his stunned stupor.

On the heels of this understanding is the even more concerning fact that the tunic wasn’t this small
when he left for the bachelor party last night. It wasn’t this small when Jeongguk went to bed
staring at it across the room, feeling the butterflies in his stomach spur to life every time he peeked
his eyes open to make sure that it was still there. In the past seven and a half hours, his tunic
somehow managed to shrink itself.

The third thought is that Jimin is absolutely going to rip him to shreds.

It’s the last thought that eventually sends Jeongguk racing out the door, shrunken shirt in hand. He
peels down the marble hallways, ignoring the smell of burned bacon coming from the direction of
the kitchen that tells him Seokjin is clearly trying to cook, and up the twisting staircase that leads
to the second floor.
Jeongguk has to stop for a moment at the second floor’s landing. In these situations, when he’s
half-crazed with panic and doesn’t know what to do, it’s Jimin he turns to. Jimin can calm him
down, offer him ten potential solutions, and make fun of him all in the same breath. And while
Jeongguk knows that Jimin would probably be able to fix this problem in a snap, Jeongguk isn't
entirely willing to have his dick cut off by his fiancé for letting this happen in the first place.

And besides, Jimin needs to have this wedding go perfectly. He’s been carrying around residual
stress from the War for the last few weeks, and the last thing Jimin needs to be is worried about is
his wedding.

The Kimms? Jeongguk contemplates, shifting his weight anxiously between his feet. He
immediately discards the idea. The Kimms are basically the owners of one single, time-shared
brain cell at the best of times. Malchin gets thrown out for similar reasons.

Taehyung is an option, but he’s got that inexplicable soulmate-type bond with Jimin that basically
guarantees Jimin finds out about Jeongguk’s situation.

Yeona it is, then, Jeongguk sighs to himself. He doesn’t waste another second and books it down
the hallway towards the family rooms as fast as he can.

Jeongguk practically flies down the waxed floors, skids to a halt in front of Yeona’s pleasantly
colored, lavender door. “Yeona?” he calls through the door, trying and failing to not notice the way
his voice cracks, “ Yeona?!”

There’s the sound of irritated grumbling from Yeona’s bedroom. A second later, she throws open
the door. “What is it?” Yeona hisses. Her hair is pulled back from her forehead with a hairband,
unruly and tangled from sleeping. “Somebody better be dying, because I swear to gods if you woke
me up at six in the morning for nothing, I will-”

Jeongguk cuts her off in the middle of her threat. “Yeona,” he repeats, thrusting the shrunken tunic
up in her face. His voice sounds small and afraid even to his own ears.

It takes exactly three seconds before Yeona moves a muscle. She looks at the tunic, up at
Jeongguk, down to the tunic, up to Jeongguk. After a moment, Yeona crosses her arms, piques up
an eyebrow, and drawls, “What is that?”

“My wedding tunic,” Jeongguk practically sobs.

Yeona blinks at him. “Huh,” she says, and then slams her door in his face.

“No, Yeona!” Jeongguk yelps, not an inch above pounding her door down. His fist thunders on her
door rapid-fire. It provides a nice backing track for his screaming. “This isn’t my fault!” Jeongguk
shouts through the wood, “It was like this when I woke up, and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s
your job as the oldest sibling to help me with my problems!”

Yeona’s scoff is painfully audible through the wood of the door. “No,” she explains, “As the
oldest, it’s my job to point out that: one, you’re an idiot; two, this is your problem to deal with for,
like, character development; and three, you’re an idiot .”

“Please,” Jeongguk sighs. He thumps his head against the wood of the door, discards the last dregs
of his pride that still cling desperately in his chest, and pleads, “I need your help. I want Jimin to
have a perfect wedding, and if this stands in the way of that, I’ll never forgive myself.”

A moment passes, and Jeongguk holds his breath. And then he hears Yeona’s profoundly-tired
groan seeping out from under the door. Hope burns back to life in his chest in a flash.
Sure enough, Yeona reopens the door. “Fine. You can come in,” she says, opening the door so
Jeongguk can enter. “But just to be clear, I’m doing this for Jimin and not because your ‘familial
obligation’ excuse worked on me because frankly, it was a little contrived.”

“I physically couldn't care less,” Jeongguk mutters as he hurries into the white-swathed room, “Just
please help me fix this.” He comes to a halt in the center of the room, right on the white and silver
carpet that lines the floor.

Yeona shuts the door behind him and turns to face him with a scowl on her face. Her wings twitch
behind her in agitation, but her voice is remarkably calm when she asks, “Are those the same
clothes you wore last night?”

Jeongguk looks down at his rumpled sleeveless tunic and semi-alcohol-stained pants. “I don’t see
why that’s important right now.”

“You’re a slob. Or a baby. Possibly both.”

“Thank you, that’s great, but I’m actually in danger of losing my fiancé over this, so if we could
get around to the ‘helping me’ part, I’d be grateful,” Jeongguk snipes back. The feathers of his own
wings puff up with anxiety.

Yeona seems to catch the gesture, if the sudden softness that bleeds into her eyes is any indication.
She crosses the distance between them, pulling her dusty-rose robe tighter around her, and nods to
the tunic. “What happened?”

With a frantic shake of his head, Jeongguk explains, “I didn't do anything. It was fine when I went
to bed last night. I woke up and it was like this. I promise that I didn’t do anything.”

“The fact that you have to stress twice that this wasn’t your fault worries me,” Yeona mutters under
her breath. She takes a look at the tunic, frowns, and moves to perch at the end of her pearly bed.
“Well, something clearly happened in between you falling asleep and waking up. Walk me through
everything you did.”

Jeongguk runs a hand down his face. He takes a seat on the bedspread next to Yeona. She wrinkles
her nose at the smell of him, but doesn’t make a move to push him away. Jeongguk looks down at
the tunic that’s draped sadly in his lap, runs his fingers through the sinfully-silky material, and
laments for a moment that he’ll never get to wear it.

“You all took me home from the tavern last night,” Jeongguk starts, “And I went straight to our
bedroom after that. I fell asleep literally the second I stepped into the room. Hence the day-old
clothes.” He omits the fact that he sent Jimin a smutty daydream just to spare the both of them
some sibling-based trauma.

Yeona hums, considering. “That’s everything?” she pries like she knows he’s lying. The half-
second of hesitation is what ultimately hammers the final nail in Jeongguk’s coffin. Yeona latches
onto it and lets out a frustrated huff. “You’re lying. I know this because you’re a shit liar,” she
hisses, prodding Jeongguk in the stomach with a pointer finger, “What else happened? What did
you do?”

“I, uh,” Jeongguk grimaces. There’s never going to be a non-awkward way to tell Yeona about this,
so he rushes out all at once, “I sent Jimin a daydream. We had sex in it. I refuse to feel bad about it
because it was fantastic, and I’d appreciate it if you never told anybody about this.”

Appropriately, Yeona gags. “Gods, you’re a hormonal teenage human boy at heart, I swear.”
Against his better judgement, Jeongguk defends, “Did you see what he was wearing last night? Did
you see what he did last night? What was I supposed to do?”

“Keep your dick in your pants!” Yeona exclaims. Her entire face wrinkles up in disgust. “I can’t
believe you just made me reference your dick. I hate this.”

“But that’s all I did!” Jeongguk pushes on despite the embarrassed flush that’s creeping up his
cheeks, “I fell asleep after that. Nothing else happened.”

Before Yeona can get another sentence in, a shouted ‘aha!’ echoes from next door. A door slams,
footsteps run their way down the small stretch of hallway separating Yeona’s bedroom door from
the others, and then Malchin heaves open the door to Yeona’s room.

She shrieks. “Get out of my room! And put some fucking clothes on.”

Malchin pays her no attention. He bustles into the room in his almost-naked glory. The only thing
that separates Malchin from nudity are the pair of short trousers hugging his hips like a second
skin. “I was listening in,” Malchin offers by way of explanation as he pushes his way in front of his
siblings.

“Why, exactly?” Jeongguk moans, cradling his face in his hands at the realization that two of his
siblings now know about his wet-daydream escapade.

Malchin shrugs. “Middle child syndrome.”

“You’re not the middle child,” Yeona points out uselessly.

“There are five of us, and I’m the second born,” Malchin brushes her off, “So rounding down, that
makes me the middle child.”

The exasperated hiss that Yeona exhales carries the weight of being the eldest sibling for four
other, braincell-lacking children. “None of that was mathematically accurate.”

Malchin sticks his tongue out at her like he’s not two centuries old. “That’s not the point,” he says.
“The point is that I’m the only one of us who actually knows what happened to Jeongguk’s tunic.”

“You do?” Jeongguk hums skeptically. Nevertheless, he leans closer to Malchin in anticipation.

With a sagely nod of his head, Malchin asks, “Have you ever heard of an indirect kiss?”

Almost inaudibly, Yeona prays, “Heavens help me.”

“An indirect kiss?” Jeongguk parrots, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Indeed, my idiotic younger brother,” Malchin lectures, “An indirect kiss. When two pairs of lips
meet without actually meeting. Like, from drinking from the same bottle or sharing the same lip
cream. It was popularized in those shitty human one-shilling books.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “What does this have to do with my shrunken tunic?”

Malchin shoots him a knowing grin. “What was the one thing that Jimin wanted from you?” he
prompts, “What did he ask you for yesterday?”

The furrow in Jeongguk’s brow deepens as he searches his memory. To be honest, most of
yesterday pales in comparison to last night’s spectacular performance. He reaches back, past the
daydream and the pole dance, searches deeper.
“Oh gods,” Jeongguk breathes as he understands. He shoots a glance up to his older brother. “He
wanted to do this human-style. With all the stupid traditions.”

Malchin snaps his fingers victoriously. “And what did you do?”

“I- I sent him a daydream?”

“Incorrect!” Malchin shouts, “You had indirect sex with him!”

Jeongguk feels his mouth go dry. He whips his head around to Yeona, searching for confirmation.
“Is that a thing? Can I do that?”

Yeona holds out her hands, palms forward. “Don’t involve me in Malchin’s stupidity,” she
dismisses.

“You indirectly sexed Jimin!” Malchin declares, hands on his hips as he screams into the void.
“You defied tradition, and now it’s coming back around to defy you!”

Jeongguk doesn’t even bother pointing out Malchin’s complete lack of sensical wording. “Oh
gods,” Jeongguk groans, because like it or not, it’s really the only explanation. The gods have
proven over and over again how willing they are to fuck with Jeongguk’s life and future-- honestly,
it’s probably his fault for bringing their collective wrath around by defying the strange, no-sex-
before-the-wedding-night human custom. “Oh my god. What do I do now?”

“Well, I suggest staying positive, but I’m pretty sure that this is the part where Jimin divorces
you,” Malchin says sympathetically.

Jeongguk is on his feet in an instant, panic dropping back into his system. “We’re not even married
yet!”

“And now you’re not going to be,” Malchin frowns sadly, “It’s unfortunate, but also completely
your fault.”

“Can you fix this?” Jeongguk asks Yeona in a last-ditch effort to save his marriage. He holds out
the tunic in front of him, “Can you?”

Yeona closes her eyes, clearly praying for mental fortitude. She sucks in a breath through her teeth.
“Leave it here,” she tells Jeongguk, “I’ll do my best. Just please, for my own sanity, go back to
your own room and don’t touch anything until Mom and Dad get back.”

“Thank you,” Jeongguk sighs sincerely. He hands the tunic to Yeona, wringing his hands in its
absence. “I’ll just… go do that. Please take care of the tunic.”

Yeona shoots him an ‘Are you kidding me’ look. “Get out of my room. Both of you. Before I kill
you with my bare hands.” The look in her eyes promises violence.

Wisely, Jeongguk files out of the room after Malchin. He doesn’t stick around in the hallway,
unwilling to spend another moment with Malchin when he’s practically naked. Instead, Jeongguk
stumbles his way back down the marble hallway across the second floor.

Most of the earlier panic has subsided, mostly because Yeona is in charge of fixing everything. She
can do it , Jeongguk reassures himself, chewing on the skin of his thumb as he makes his way
towards the staircase, She can do it. She’ll fix it.
And if she doesn’t, then I’ll just throw myself into Taehyung’s swamp.

Similar resolutions preoccupy Jeongguk’s mind. He’s so focused on worrying about his ill-fated
tunic that he doesn’t realize he’s walked his way straight past the mouth of the stairwell until he’s
right in front of the guest bedrooms.

And just as he’s about to turn on his heel and head back towards the stairs, the sound of quiet
laughter finds its way to his ears. It usually wouldn’t be enough to make Jeongguk stop in his
tracks, but he recognizes the sound of the laughter.

It’s Jimin’s-- beautiful and melodious and about another thousand adjectives that make Jeongguk
light up from within every single time he hears the sound. But that doesn’t make sense, because
Jimin is not supposed to be here until tonight, Jeongguk thinks to himself.

Mindful of his footfalls, Jeongguk creeps closer to the closed door that the laughter is cascading out
from behind. It’s Taehyung’s door-- which, surprise, surprise . Jeongguk presses his ear to the
door, listens in without knowing what he’s listening for.

“And he doesn’t know?” Taehyung titters. Quiet delight laces through his words.

It’s echoed in Jimin. “Not at all,” Jimin snickers, “He was dead asleep when I snuck in. The
resizing spell only took a moment. Gods, can you imagine how freaked he must be right now?”

Taehyung laughs, but Jeongguk is too busy feeling gut-wrenching betrayal to hear his reply.
Because it was Jimin who shrunk his tunic. Jeongguk honest-to-gods wants to slap himself across
the face for listening to Malchin’s idiotic theory, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.

“That’ll teach him to send me daydreams like that,” Jimin smirks happily, “Revenge is sweet,
Taehyung. The sweetest, actually.”

It’s all Jeongguk needs to hear. He steps away from the door, mind whirling.

This is revenge for the daydream, Jeongguk seethes mentally. He probably deserves it-- he
definitely deserves it-- but there are few things in life that Jeongguk is unwilling to compromise on:
Jimin’s happiness; the safety of his friends and family; and the fact that he is absolutely,
unequivocally, undeniably the Jeon Family Prank King .

And even if it makes him petty, or childish, or irresponsible, there’s no way that Jimin is getting
the last word in here.

A sinister smile creeps onto Jeongguk’s face.

Two can play at this game, he decides.

Jeongguk flicks his wings out confidently and starts to head back to Yeona’s room.
An hour later, Jimin looks at himself in the mirror in his room. He looks good, great even,
considering everything he put himself through in the past twelve hours. Copious amounts of
drinking, conquering a stripper pole, and utterly soul-crushing betrayal from his fiancé are
apparently no match for Jimin’s can-do attitude and burning hatred. He isn’t even hungover. That
in itself is a miracle.

It’s also a small miracle that Jeongguk hasn’t punched his way through his door this early after the
prank that Jimin pulled. Jimin shrugs, figuring that Jeongguk’s at least trying to respect tradition.

“So, like, are you planning on ogling yourself in the mirror all day, or do you have something
planned before the ceremony tonight?” Taehyung hums from Jimin’s bed.

Jimin cranes his neck back to look at Taehyung. “Just a few final checks,” Jimin sighs, and then
grimaces. He jerks his chin to his plush red bedspread. “Get your swampy feet off of my pillows.”

“Oh my god, you’re already turning into a groomzilla,” Taehyung whines. He doesn’t move his
feet an inch. “Which is pretty close to your regular personality, if I’m being honest.”

With a huff, Jimin spins on his heel. He juts his hip out, points his pointer finger at Taehyung
threateningly. “ Yah ,” he lectures, “You know how stressed out I am about today.”

It isn’t even a lie. Jimin has never been much of a worrier. He’s more of a ‘whatever happens
happens, and if I don’t like what happens, I will forcibly change it’ kind of Fae. But apparently war
changes things, because now Jimin can list off five things that worry him without even thinking
about it. But nothing’s occupied his thoughts more than the wedding.

He woke up in a cold sweat last night from a nightmare about receiving the wrong kind of cake.
It’s that bad.

So Jimin figures that at the very least, he deserves a bit of sympathy.

Taehyung seems to feel differently. “I’m sorry, but it was literally you who wanted to be in charge
of everything. I viscerally remember you threatening me for making suggestions.” Taehyung
scoffs, bone chains clinking against each other as he rolls onto his stomach.

“You suggested that I rent a petting zoo, Tae,” Jimin throws right back. He arches an eyebrow. “A
petting zoo. At my wedding .”

“I was drunk,” Taehyung complains. He waves a hand dismissively in the air as he talks. “But just
to be clear, where did we land on that?”

Jimin throws his hands in the air. “There’s not going to be a petting zoo at my wedding, Taehyung!
I don’t care how badly you want to pet a goat.” He marches over to the chair right in front of the
adjacent window.

It’s gorgeous outside, even if it is way too early for his nocturnal-brain to thoroughly enjoy. At
Jimin’s request, Jeongguk created an entirely new set of scenery for the wedding. Most of the
surrounding countryside remains the same-- there are still sprawling, rolling moors covered with
grass so green it looks emerald, and the horizon is still lined with those same cyprus trees that
Jimin first trekked through all those months ago on his way to Somnus.

But the details have changed. Instead of the charmingly-dilapidated stone wall that usually hedges
in the manor, a sparkling honey-gold fence runs its way around the grounds’ perimeter like
dripping sunlight. Orbs of floating, iridescently-white light hover along the fence at regular
intervals; they perfectly match the sparkling white wildflowers that pepper the grass. And Jimin
knows that on the back of Somnus, the side overlooking the sheer-faced drop straight down into
the ocean, there’s a gilded wedding arch standing proudly.

The beauty of Jeongguk’s handiwork is almost enough to keep Jimin from noticing the way
Taehyung murmurs under his breath, “Nothing will stop me from petting a goat.” But before Jimin
can even begin to comprehend that, Taehyung’s expression shifts from outright pouting to subtle
curiosity. “So, what is on your agenda for today? You planning any other surprises for Jeongguk?”

Jimin winces a little. Something like guilt pangs in his chest. It’s foreign, and disgusting, and
something that Jimin is not looking forward to feeling again anytime soon. “I don’t think so,”
Jimin mutters as he turns away from the window. He chews the inside of his lip thoughtfully as he
considers. “Do you think this morning was too much?”

As soon as Jimin notices the horrified disbelief creeping onto Taehyung’s face, he rushes to add,
“Not that Jeongguk didn’t deserve it, but… you know that he can literally stress himself out about a
pair of mismatched socks if he tries hard enough.”

“Who knew that a Daydream could give off that much stress?” Taehyung hums in agreement. He
pulls himself onto his elbows, props his head in his cupped hands to stare properly into Jimin’s
soul.

“Well, I mean. You don’t exactly go through seventy years of solitude without learning to
overthink things,” Jimin explains quietly.

He shudders as he thinks about The Time Before. Jimin tries not to dwell on it, tries desperately
not to fall back into those scream-tinged nightmares that always seem to be stalking him these
days, but it’s hard. No one ever told Jimin that surviving a war was hard . No one warned him that
it might lead to this -- to Seokjin sneaking around in the middle of the night, patrolling the
corridors; or Yoongi, who can’t sleep in the darkness anymore.

Jimin carries new scars now. They all do, because there’s a price to pay for being a hero.

“Fair,” Taehyung offers his agreement, swiftly pulling Jimin out of his brooding. “So, do you
regret the prank then? Because I think it was honestly one of the best decisions you’ve made in
your life, second only to meeting me.”

For a second, Jimin considers. There’s just a twinge of guilt, but it’s nothing that Jimin can’t
squash in a second by remembering that self-satisfied smirk on Jeongguk’s face during the
daydream last night. “Nah,” he decides eventually, “He was a brat last night. It’s just- I’m not sure
that this is how I wanted to start our wedding day. Shouldn’t we both be, I don’t know, relaxing?”

Taehyung groans and lets his face flop down onto the comforter. “I mean. It’s probably not too late
for you to track him down and fix the tunic if you really want to,” Taehyung offers, begrudgingly
and somewhat muffled. “It’d be pretty out of character for you to make his life easier, but if you
think it’s worth it, then I support you. I guess.”

“What’s with all the disses today?” Jimin complains.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Taehyung rotates himself back onto his back. Jimin notes with disgust
that his feet are still on his pillows. “I’ve been so stressed out with wedding planning that I haven’t
spent enough time with Yoongi and Namjoon recently,” Taehyung admits.

He sounds so sad, so painfully martyred, that Jimin would honestly feel a bit bad for him if he
didn’t know that Taehyung was completely full of shit. “You saw them last night,” Jimin points out
dryly. “You spent five songs grinding on Namjoon like it was the end of the world.”

“Unfair, you-”

“Also,” Jimin cuts Taehyung’s protests short, “I’m super worried that you think you planned this
wedding. Terrified, actually.”

Taehyung tilts his head back until he can look at Jimin upside-down. “Maybe I’m just having
wedding-planning sympathy pains for you then.”

Jimin has never wanted to murder his soulmate so desperately. “That is such bullshit ,” he barks
out.

“How dare you presume to know my pain.” Taehyung sniffs, somehow managing to summon tears
to his eyes at a moment’s notice.

“Oh, put those tears away, you lump of fish guts,” Jimin snaps.

Taehyung squawks. “ Fish guts?! I-”

Before Taehyung can roll onto all fours and tackle Jimin through the wall, someone starts
knocking frantically on the door. They’re those panicked knocks, the rapid POWPOWPOWs that
means something serious is going down.

Jimin blinks. “Ten gold pieces says that that’s Jeongguk coming to beg me for help.”

“Huh,” Taehyung squints, assessing. “Throw in a curry dinner and I’m in.”

After a quick nod of confirmation, Jimin gets up and hurries to the door. He grabs the handle,
schools his face into a mask of innocence, and throws open the door.

Namjoon pushes into the room.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses as Taehyung whoops in the background.

Namjoon furrows his brow. “Not the greeting I was expecting, but okay,” he mutters. Namjoon
turns to Jimin and takes a deep breath. “Listen, something’s-”

“You just won me twenty gold pieces, baby!” Taehyung howls in delight.

Jimin whirls around. “We agreed on ten! ” he protests.

“We didn’t shake on it.”

“Verbal contracts are legally binding in-”

“ Listen!” Namjoon bellows, clapping his hands together for good measure. In the semi-stunned,
semi-offended silence that follows, Namjoon frowns, “I know that it’s physically painful for you
two to not bicker like married old crones for five minutes, but something’s wrong .”

And Namjoon is wearing the kind of deadly-serious expression that sends Jimin’s heart
plummeting straight into the pit of his stomach. A thousand worst-case scenarios rush through
Jimin’s head all at once.

Someone’s dying, Jimin panics, or close to dying. Or someone is irreparably wounded, and I’m not
there to help. Or- Or-
Or the Bureau is back.

Jimin is only absently aware of the fact that his mouth is moving, because all he can hear is the
high-pitched, panicked whine in his ears. “Oh gods. Is it Jeongguk?” Jimin hears himself asking,
“Is he okay? Is he injured? Fuck, Namjoon, where is he? Is he-”

“What?” Namjoon interrupts. He looks genuinely confused. “No. Jeongguk’s fine. Everything is
fine. Your seating chart is just missing.”

Oh, thank gods, Jimin thinks as he exhales shakily. Adrenaline is still making the rounds through
his system, and his heart is even halfway through pounding out a symphony against his ribcage.
But it’s fine , Jimin soothes, closing his eyes as he tries to calm himself down.

He makes a mental note to punch Namjoon in the face later for all the dramatics. Because really,
the situation isn’t all that bad. No one’s dying, or wounded, or in battle. It’s just a small problem.
It’s only a missing seating chart.

And then it sinks in.

His eyes snap open.

“Wait, what?!” Jimin screeches.

Namjoon stands in the center of the room nervously wringing his hands. “Your seating chart is
missing.”

“My seating chart is missing,” Jimin parrots dumbly. “My seating chart. With two hundred plus
carefully-designed tables. Is missing.”

The way that Namjoon swallows is audible. “...yes,” he whispers.

“No,” Jimin breathes.

Taehyung’s eyes blow wide open. He gasps. “ No.”

With a wince, Namjoon reiterates. “Yes.”

“ No!”

Taehyung echoes the sentiment. “ NO!”

“I can see where this is going, so I’m just going to calmly ask everyone to calm down,” Namjoon
tries. “But, for clarity’s sake, it’s gone. Vanished. Nowhere to be found.” He takes one look at the
murderous gaze that glazes over Jimin’s eyes and corrects, “I mean. I could have just missed it.”

Taehyung picks himself up off of the bed. There’s an imprint of two feet on Jimin’s pillow, but
Jimin figures he has plenty of time later to kill Taehyung for that. “Did you check the kitchens?”
Taehyung asks helpfully as he comes to stand by Namjoon’s side.

“Yes.”

“The solarium?” Jimin prompts, wracking his brain.

Namjoon nods. “Uh-huh.”

“What about-”

“I literally checked everywhere,” Namjoon says apologetically. He shifts from foot to foot
uneasily, clearly uncomfortable having to be the bearer of such bad news. “I even had Yoongi
double-check for me.”

Taehyung sucks in a breath through his teeth and puts a hand on Jimin’s shoulder in consolation.
“If Yoongi can’t find it, Min, then it’s really gone.” Exactly one second passes, and then horror
dawns on Taehyung’s face. “Oh my gods, you’re screwed .”

“Gee, thanks,” Jimin hisses bitterly. He runs his hands down his face and tries not to panic. “What
am I gonna do? I didn’t have the seating plan written down anywhere else?”

Namjoon blinks. “You didn’t keep a backup journal?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You should
always keep a backup of important files.”

For the second time that morning, Jimin tosses his hands up in exasperation. “Is everyone in this
fucking manor committed to being as unhelpful as possible?”

“Sorry. Should I get Yoongi?” Namjoon offers, already inching towards the door and eager for
escape.

“No. I just-” Jimin breaks off, shakes his head, and plops down into the chair behind him. A shaky
sigh makes its way past his lips. Of all the potentially disastrous situations he, Daeshim, and
Taehyung planned for, this wasn’t one of them. Jimin feels like an idiot , because of course
something would go wrong on his wedding day. “I can’t believe this is happening. Is this karma?
This feels like karma for messing with Jeongguk.”

Taehyung crosses the space between them in a heartbeat. He kneels down next to Jimin, puts a
hand on his thigh comfortingly. “It’ll be okay, Min. We’ll figure it out; we just need a plan of
attack. For fuck’s sake, we survived a literal war . We can handle a wedding hiccup.”

But Jimin doesn’t know how to explain how wrong this all feels. Today was supposed to be
perfect, though pranking Jeongguk may not have exactly set the right tone, but Jimin certainly
wasn’t expecting this .

“Taehyung’s right,” Namjoon says firmly, “We’ll divide and conquer. We can help you with all of
your last-minute checks while you make a new seating chart. Taehyung can deal with the
fountains, I’ll handle the final decorations-”

Jimin scoffs quietly. “You break everything you touch,” he mutters under his breath.

“ Yoongi will help with the decorations,” Namjoon corrects with a put-out huff. “I’ll get Seokjin
and Hoseok to help me search the grounds for the chart again, just in case.”

Slowly, Jimin forces himself to exhale. Gods, he thinks, when did I get like this? Because wasn’t it
just yesterday that Jimin was willing to set the world on fire for literally any reason at all? Didn’t
he just pull the prank of a lifetime this morning? What’s wrong with me? he wonders sadly.

But he already knows what’s wrong.

This is important. Today means something. It’s not a one-off prank or something that Jimin can
deal with by lighting the problem on fire.
It takes feelings and compromise, both things that Jimin isn’t entirely used to yet.

Still, Namjoon’s proposition seems to ease the worst of the tension that’d slowly been knotting
itself up in Jimin’s chest. “Alright. Good,” Jimin says on an exhale, “I can check the manor one
more time, just to be safe.”

Taehyung nods, and then grins lightly. “And hey, if all else fails, I could just show up barefoot and
pregnant and yell ‘I object!’ during your vows.”

It’s silent for a minute as everyone processes.

“...you okay there, baby?” Namjoon half-chuckles.

“I think I’m still a little drunk from last night,” Taehyung admits sheepishly.

Namjoon blinks confusedly. “Which one of them were you even theoretically objecting to getting
married?”

“We’re rapidly spiraling into ‘unhelpful’ territory again,” Jimin calls, a little harsher than is
probably necessary.

At least Taehyung has the good sense to look chastised. “Sorry,” he offers with a shrug, though the
little furrow between his brows tells Jimin that Taehyung really wants to pull some kind of
dramatic objection. Usually, Jimin would appreciate the commitment, but right now there’s about a
million other things on Jimin’s mental to-do list that warrant more attention than Taehyung’s
pressing need to throw himself directly into the limelight.

Jimin herds Namjoon and Taehyung out of his room, clucking his tongue when Taehyung has to
double back to collect the magazine he’d left on the foot of Jimin’s bed. “Can we please hurry it
up?” Jimin harrumphs, “We have a potentially ruinous problem on our hands here.”

“I know, and I-” Taehyung starts, and then cuts himself off. He stops halfway on his way towards
Jimin’s open door. Taehyung narrows his eyes, sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. With a
skeptical cock of his head, he mutters thoughtfully, “Hey, how did your seating chart even go
missing in the first place. Like-- no offense-- but I’ve seen you carry that thing around with you
like a newborn. For a while I was convinced that you slept with it next to you for good luck or
something.”

Huh, Jimin thinks, firmly ignoring the fact that he had slept with it next to him for a few nights.
Huh, because Taehyung is actually making sense. “You know what?” Jimin says slowly, “I
could’ve sworn that I left it in here before I left for the party last night. I always keep it on my
dresser for safekeeping, and the only other person who-”

Jimin stops. Blinks. Feels the heat of a thousand burning suns light up his veins like liquid lava.
There it is. The rage.

Jimin’s trademark rage -- the kind that’s pushed him into all of his most stupid decisions, from
lighting his employers on fire (nine times, thank you very much), to stabbing his future fiance in
the thigh with an arrow, to throwing himself off a fucking cliff .

And all at once, he’s seething.

“No way,” Jimin hisses venomously, “No fucking way .”

“What?” Taehyung asks. He sounds excited. Inappropriately so.

Jimin marches over to his dresser, opens the drawer that houses all of Jimin’s precious items. He
pushes aside one of Jeongguk’s white feathers, slams that little piece of paper that has the line of
verse Jeongguk had written the night he proposed, and looks for the small, white-bound book. It’s
not there.

“I left it in here. I’m certain of it. I looked at it just before we left for the party last night,” Jimin
grits through his teeth.

Namjoon peeks over his shoulder to peer into the drawer. “...but it’s not in here.”

“No shit,” Jimin huffs. He slams the dresser closed hard enough to make the windows rattle. “But
I’m not the only one who sleeps in here.”

With a gasp, Taehyung starts, “You don’t mean-”

Jimin is already heading for the door. “Fucking Jeon Jeongguk. He took it.” Jimin can feel his
blood boiling. Jeongguk hasn’t done something this idiotic since before the war, when they were
still at each other’s throats for literally everything. Jimin makes his mind up right then and there--
when he finds his fiance, he’s going to pluck him like a chicken.

“Why the fuck would he take it?” Namjoon asks, clearly confused.

“The prank,” Taehyung groans as he follows Jimin out of the room, “He knows.”

Namjoon stumbles after Jimin and into the morning-soaked hallway. “Knows what?”

“I don’t know how he did it, but Jeongguk must’ve figured out that you were the one who shrank
his wedding tunic,” Taehyung says, breathing a little labored as Jimin starts to pick up into a
sprint.

Jimin hears Namjoon screeching behind him, “You shrank his wedding tunic?!” but he pays it no
attention. He jogs towards the staircase, starts jumping up them two at a time.

“How would he even have stolen it?” Taehyung asks as he vaults up the spiral stairs.

“He can literally snap his fingers and move his entire being around the manor,” Jimin mutters
angrily under his breath, “It’s not a stretch to imagine that he could summon a notebook in the
same way.” Jimin hits the landing for the second floor, catapults his way up the next flight of
stairs.

Namjoon stumbles, stubs his toe on something, curses, and then calls, “Where are we even going?
To grovel?”

“ Fuck no!” Jimin practically screeches. “This whole thing is because of his stupid daydream in the
first place, and I’ll be damned if I’m the one who has to clean up the mess he made!”

The wince on Namjoon’s face is almost audible. “This feels like a very bad idea.”

“I like it. We’re committed to this war now,” Taehyung smirks. He rubs his hands together
deviously as he pads along after Jimin.

The faintest smell of smoke makes its way into the air, and Jimin knows that he’s leaving charcoal
footprints on the freshly polished marble floors, but he physically couldn’t give less of a shit. He
turns out of the stairwell and onto the third floor. “Oh yeah,” Jimin growls, “Jeongguk knows
about the prank. We know that he knows. This is prank-Chicken. We are not blinking first.”

There’s a hum of agreement from Taehyung. “For our next move, I propose that we break his
knees.”

“ Taehyung!” Namjoon interjects.

Jimin shakes his head. “Maybe just one knee,” he suggests.

“ Jimin!”

Ignoring Namjoon’s increasingly worried protests, Jimin comes to a halt in front of the arc of
multicolored doors that mark this hallway as the one that houses the family rooms. “As much as
I’d like to shatter Jeongguk’s kneecaps right now, I do eventually want to see him walk down the
aisle. So for now…” Jimin trails off.

Taehyung takes the bait. His voice is high-pitched and flecked throughout with excitement. “For
now…?”

“We need some expert assistance.” Jimin plants himself firmly in front of the lavender door and
raps on it with the backs of his knuckles. “Yeona!” he calls, “Open up.”

From within the room, someone groans angrily. Yeona’s muffled voice sneaks out from the crack
between the bottom of the door and the marble flooring. “Dear gods, were you all born without
common courtesy? It’s seven in the morning!”

Despite her protests, Yeona hefts her door open a heartbeat later. It’s quiet for a moment, and then
Taehyung gestures to her perfectly wrinkleless trousers-embroidered tunic combo. “Oh, please.
Your hair’s brushed and you’re dressed. You’ve been up for hours ,” he sasses.

“I hate you,” Yeona volleys back easily. “What do you want? I’ve already met my idiocy quote for
today.”

Her words stick in the back of Jimin’s head like a warning, but he brushes it aside. He’s still
burning too hot inside and out to listen to his rational brain right now. “We need your help,” he
says.

Yeona piques up an eyebrow. “With?”

“Pranking Jeongguk.”

Jimin doesn’t miss the way Yeona’s wings perk up excitedly. A small smile makes its way onto
her lips, but her tone is measured and calm when she drawls, “Pranking? It’s your wedding day.
This is what you’re going to do with it?”

“It’s a long story,” Taehyung sighs impatiently, “Jeongguk sent Jimin a wet dream-”

“Gross.”

“And Jimin got revenge. Jeongguk knows. Jimin wants vengeance. I, personally, will settle for
blood.” Taehyung nods sagely once he’s done talking, thoroughly satisfied with himself.

Yeona pokes her tongue into her cheek as she considers. “Pranking, huh?” she hums, and then nods
once. “Give me a second.”

The door shuts in Jimin’s face, and he has half a mind to be annoyed, but he can hear her shuffling
around inside. Through the wooden door, Jimin can just make out the sound of her chestnut closet
doors sliding open and thumping closed. But before Jimin has enough time to process the
significance of the noises, Yeona is pulling open the door again.

“Okay. Come on in,” Yeona says. She tugs the door open all the way and gestures for them to file
in. “Did you have anything specific in mind?” she asks.

Jimin shakes his head as he makes his way over to the bed. “That’s where you come in.”

Yeona turns around to close the door.

From this angle, no one can see as Yeona bites her lip to keep from letting out the peal of laughter
that tries to bubble out of her lungs. After a quick breath to compose herself, Yeona schools her
face into resigned indifference.

“Oh, how delightful ,” she says.

The door closes with a snick.

Yeona sits in the middle of her bed. She has her right wing curled around her front, and she combs
through the soft lavender plumage with her fingers. Mid-afternoon sunlight pours its way through
her wall of windows and shines through her feathers as she molts.

Under her breath, Yeona hums happily to herself. Pretty soon, she thinks mischievously, It’s almost
time.

Really, she should probably have the good sense to feel just a little bit bad about doing what she’s
doing, but gods above all of the other Fae in the manor make it so easy for her. Even calling what
she’s doing manipulation feels a bit too generous; for her, it feels more like taking candy from a
child. It’s so far from challenging that it’s just on the cusp of not being fun at all.

But then, like clockwork, Yeona hears the sound of someone running down the hallway outside
towards her doorway. “Finally,” she mutters under her breath and snaps her wings taut to her back.
On quiet feet, Yeona pads over to her closet (inside of which she’s currently hiding Jeongguk’s
repaired wedding tunic and Jimin’s seating chart) and makes sure that the latch is tightly threaded.

Once that’s done, she takes a look at herself in the mirror. In the seconds that precede the frantic
knocks on her door, Yeona practices her surprised expression. She drops her jaw and sucks in her
cheeks. Oh! she imagines saying, How dare he? And then she looks at her shoulder-length hair,
resolving to try shaving it off pretty soon.

It’s after this entire perfectly-timed sequence that the knocks begin. “Yeona!” Jeongguk caterwauls
through the door to the rhythmic tempo his fist slams out against the wooden door, “ Yeona!”

“Coming,” Yeona calls back. It takes a monumental amount of effort to stuff down the little knot of
laughter that tries desperately to rush from her lungs, but seventy years’ worth of being trapped in a
dark hole underground have more than taught her how to control her emotions.

She opens the door.

Jeongguk spills in a heartbeat later, golden wings already puffed up in agitation, and a very
confused-looking Seokjin follows him inside afterwards.

“So?” Yeona asks as she shuts the door, “How did it go?”

Jeongguk paces the length of the room. “I did everything you suggested,” Jeongguk speaks
quickly, like he’s trying to vent all of his frustration in one long, run-on sentence, “After I gave you
the seating chart, everything was fine. It was fine , until I went into the kitchens to check on the
dinner preparations.”

Willing the corners of her mouth not to twitch up preemptively, Yeona flicks up an eyebrow.
“What happened in the kitchens?” she prompts, and then points to Seokjin, “Also, what’re you
even doing here?”

“Beats me,” Seokjin shrugs.

“He’s my new accomplice,” Jeongguk huffs. He stops pacing, comes to a halt in the center of the
room, and crosses his arms across his chest defensively. Behind him, his wings puff up even
further , until Yeona is almost certain that it’s painful. “Jimin needs to be stopped. This is getting
out of hand.”

Calmly, Yeona says, “And so I ask again: what happened in the kitchens?”

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Disbelief shines in his eyes. Yeona absentmindedly observes that he
might actually be one of the most dramatic Fae she’s ever encountered in her life. Jeongguk
immediately proves her right; he lets out a drawn-out sigh, throws his hands into the air, and
practically wails, “He changed our dinner entree!”

Oh, I’m so going to hell for this, Yeona thinks to herself.

What she says is, “Oh! How dare he.”

“I know!” Jeongguk growls. “He knows that I can’t eat chicken, or anything that flies. It was in his
contract when he first started working for me, and I know that he remembers that.”

Seokjin (who’s lying on his side, having made himself entirely too comfortable on Yeona’s plush
duvet) chooses that moment to speak up. “But you eat eggs, Jeongguk.”

Silence, long and horrified, ensues.

From the bed, Seokjin blinks. “You- you can’t tell me that you didn’t know that eggs come from
chickens,” he whispers, as though he’s embarrassed for Jeongguk.

“Of course I know where eggs come from,” Jeongguk hisses back, cheeks pinking up, “I just never
thought about it like that before.”

“How could you not realize that eggs are eventual chickens?” Seokjin presses.

Jeongguk scoffs. His face is so red that Yeona would be worried if she weren’t one step away from
laughing herself to tears. Be strong, she reminds herself.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk grits out, “I had more important things to do in my seventy years of solitude
than spending valuable time considering the multifaceted nature of my personal ethics of food
consumption.”

The indignant expression on Jeongguk’s face, the sheer disbelief spattered across Seokjin’s brow,
and the image of Jimin angrily ordering all of the charmed pots and pans to make poultry instead of
fish for their wedding dinner almost sends Yeona over the edge.

Before her composure breaks, Yeona cuts in, “So, let me guess. Revenge, again?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeongguk says decisively. He clenches his jaw, and determination lights up his
eyes. “He’s gonna pay for this.”

Like fishing from a barrel, Yeona snickers internally.

To the two dumbassess looking to her for guidance, Yeona starts, “Okay. I’ll help you again.” And
only once she’s absolutely certain that they’re both listening does she dart her eyes back towards
the door meaningfully, like she’s actually concerned that someone might be outside listening in.

The way Jeongguk and Seokjin instinctively lean in to pay attention is almost comical.

“Listen up,” she whispers in the mid-afternoon sunshine, “Here’s what you’re gonna do.”

Late afternoon rolls around, and Yeona is pretty sure that she’s having the best time of her life.

She has spent the entirety of the morning running Jimin and Jeongguk in circles around each other.
In the last few hours, she’s managed to convince Jeongguk to steal Jimin’s seating chart, suggest
that Jimin change the main course to poultry to thoroughly screw over Jeongguk, and plant the idea
in Jeongguk’s head that sending all of the sentient fountains chasing Jimin around the manor
would be a great comeback.

Her final suggestion may have backfired on her a tad bit, though, because it’s led her to where she
is now-- watching a very soggy, very angry looking Jimin pace around her room. Yeona watches
Jimin amusedly and wonders if he has any idea how many of Jeongguk’s mannerisms he’s picked
up in the time that they’ve been together. The small, dissatisfied head tilt that Jimin does when he’s
thinking is a Jeongguk maneuver, and so is the pout that puckers Jimin’s lips as he rants.

“-and he just sent the fountains after me. Who does that?” Jimin seethes, “Not only is it uninspired,
but it’s messy! And who’s going to have to clean it up? Fucking me. ”

Uninspired? Yeona thinks a little acidically. It was a great prank, in her opinion. She knows how
much Jimin hates the sentient fountains that Jeongguk is so fond of. Still, she holds her tongue and
nods absently as Jimin works himself up more and more.
But it’s not like this whole situation isn’t serving a purpose. She isn’t just doing this for the hell of
it (though the little vein in Jimin’s forehead that’s currently threatening to pop is delightful ). It
speaks volumes about Jimin’s relationship with her brother that this is how Jimin is content to
spend his wedding day.

Yeona isn’t an idiot; even as she sits on her bed, pretending to listen to Jimin’s increasingly-loud
argument with himself, she can see this for what it is. Deep down, deep deep down, Jimin is
scared. It’s a little strange that the fear is choosing to manifest in the form of pulling juvenile
pranks, but it is what it is.

And Jeongguk- Jeongguk honestly isn’t much better. His worry is different. It’s not the same
lingering fear of commitment that Yeona can practically smell rolling off of Jimin in waves. It’s a
quieter fear; it’s more stealthy. More insidious.

It’s the kind of worry that gnaws away at the back of Jeongguk’s mind, the one that still whispers
that one day, the people he loves will disappear into thin air. And then he’ll be alone again, just
like he was before.

So if pulling a few harmless pranks is what it takes to take the edge off of the fear that cuts into
both of them, then Yeona is more than willing to play the role of the Criminal Mastermind.

Or at least she was , but now the sun is setting, the wedding is in literally two hours, and Jimin still
seems to be hell-bent on chopping off Jeongguk’s head and serving it up on a silver platter. And
though she may be the Jeon Family Prank Queen, she does have a responsibility to make sure that
her little brother and his fiance actually do end the day getting married.

What she needs is to bring about a resolution. One final prank that Jimin will never go for, just to
prove to him how stupid it is for him to be avoiding committing to the love of his life.

“Well, that’s all very interesting,” Yeona interrupts suddenly, “But what I think you need now is
something even bigger.”

Jimin immediately stops talking. The smile on his face is a little worrisome, but Yeona brushes it
off. “I’m listening,” he says, tilting back to lean on Yeona’s writing desk.

And then it comes to Yeona.

It’s the perfect idea. It’s just ludacris enough that Jimin won’t even consider it.

But Yeona makes herself shrug noncommittal, and then she suggests, “You should steal his
wedding ring. It’s in his nightstand, unoriginal as it sounds.”

That ought to do it, Yeona thinks to herself proudly. Jimin has to know what stealing that ring from
Jeongguk would do to him; he’s got to be aware of how devastated Jeongguk would feel if he
thought that he lost the beautiful, diamond-studded wedding ring he’d spent ages looking for. It’d
crush him.

It would actually crush him.

But then Jimin is smiling, and Yeona has one of those ‘ oh, shit’ moments that lets her know that,
somewhere along the way, she may have inadvertently created a monster.

“That’s perfect,” Jimin hisses.

Before Yeona can move or breathe or blink , Jimin goes flying out the door, presumably to spirit
away one of Jeongguk’s most prized possessions.

Yeona just sits there, staring at her door, wondering when she should’ve stopped along the way.
Maybe it won’t be so bad , Yeona tries to reassure herself as guilt starts to knot itself into her
stomach, Maybe he won’t go through with it.

Maybe Jimin will realize how stupid this is.

Yeona waits patiently for Jimin to come back.

A minute passes, and then five minutes pass, and then an hour passes.

...maybe Yeona miscalculated the depths of Jimin’s stubbornness.

It takes exactly thirty-two and a half minutes for Jimin to regret taking Jeongguk’s wedding ring.

The first five or so minutes Jimin spends genuinely enjoying himself. Stealing the ring was a piece
of cake-- just a quick poof! into invisibility, a quiet waltz into Jeongguk’s nightstand, and right
back out again. So Jimin waltzes into his red-draped room with his head held high and places the
silver ring down right on top of his dresser. From this angle, the sunlight catches on it just right,
moving and refracting through the little diamonds like spears of starlight. It’s beautiful, really, and
it’s his . Jeongguk found it for him .

Jimin freezes as soon as he realizes that, at some point, Jeongguk actually is going to be in
possession of the ring in order to actually give it to Jimin. But that shouldn’t take long; Jimin has
been messing around with Jeongguk’s head all morning. There’s no way that Jeongguk won’t come
sprinting his way down the hallway towards Jimin’s room any minute.

But then the minutes tick by, and the sun sinks lower and lower in the horizon.

Another five minutes go past, and Jimin sits anxiously on his bed, chewing on the skin of his
thumb.

You’re being ridiculous , Jimin thinks in a feeble attempt to reassure himself, Jeongguk will be
here soon. For all of his pranks, he wouldn’t actually do anything to put the wedding in jeopardy.

In the back of Jimin’s head, that small, frustratingly astute voice whispers, But isn’t that exactly
what you’re doing?

“No!” Jimin declares firmly in the silence of his room. He shakes his head quickly and crosses his
arms over his chest. “No. No . This is Jeongguk’s fault in the first place. He started this, and now
he has to deal with me finishing it.”

He sounds like a brat even to his own ears, because somewhere in between meeting Jeongguk and
falling in love, Jimin actually developed a conscience. It’s annoying, and exhausting , and telling
him that he should probably be the bigger Fae and give back the wedding ring.

But Park Jimin isn’t exactly known for his penchant for doling out apologies, so instead of doing
the responsible thing, Jimin digs his heels in and settles in for the long haul. The wedding ring on
the dresser glints back at him disapprovingly, so Jimin turns his back, faces the headboard of his
four-poster bed, and waits.

And waits.

And waits .

“Oh my gods,” Jimin seethes in exasperation. He lets out a breath and tilts backwards until his back
thumps onto the mattress underneath him. Jimin stares up at the red-fabriced top of his bed, and
actively tries not to count the seconds as they pass.

How did you used to spend time? He thinks to himself. It had to have been easier than this. There’s
no way Jimin survived almost a century of near-solitude like this . But try as he might, Jimin
honestly can’t remember how he used to make the minutes pass by. Maybe I used to have more
hobbies , Jimin muses thoughtfully, or maybe I was just too focused on surviving that I didn’t
notice that time was moving on without me.

Jimin squirms at the thought, but it’s probably true. He twists his engagement ring nervously, feels
the late afternoon breeze ruffling his hair, and realizes with a sinking feeling that, for all of the
freedom that he has now, he hasn’t exactly bothered to explore what all this newfound space means
for his relationship with himself.

For everything he’s managed to achieve in the past few months-- anarchy included-- he’s spent
remarkably little time figuring out who he is , or even who he wants to be. Sometimes it feels like
Jimin is existing in the past tense: he learned how to use his battle magic; he defeated the Bureau;
he decided to marry Jeongguk.

But do I do anything anymore? Jimin sulks moodily in the quiet that surrounds him.

With a firm shake of his head, he promises the ceiling of his room that he’s going to spend more
time getting to know himself, getting in touch with himself, feeling at ease in the quiet. Park Jimin
could use a little more stillness. It’d be good for his complexion, and his mindset, and-

Someone knocks on the door.

“Oh, thank fuck ,” Jimin sighs in relief. He scrambles off of his bed faster than is probably
dignified, if the way he nearly trips and sends his face catapulting straight towards the floor is any
indication.

By the time he rights himself, there’s a comeback just waiting to lilt off the tip of his tongue. Come
to beg for forgiveness? Jimin is prepared to say to Jeongguk’s face as he tugs open the door.

“Care to-”

“Something’s wrong,” Seokjin interrupts before Jimin can even finish. Seokjin stands there, hands
clasped together in front of his expensive-looking white-lace tunic.

Jimin piques an eyebrow up. Something deep in his gut tells him that this has to do with Jeongguk,
but he makes himself ask anyway, “What do you mean?”

Seokjin darts a glance down the hallway and does a fantastic impersonation of someone who looks
genuinely concerned, but Jimin’s not buying it. He’s had his fill of being messed with today. So he
doesn’t move a muscle when Seokjin bites his lip and offers, “It’s Jeongguk. Something’s wrong.”
Ah, Jimin thinks, a little annoyed. There it is .

It’s another prank. Apparently, for all of Jimin’s efforts, Jeongguk still isn’t willing to back down.
Something halfway between amusement and genuine irritation bubbles its way up to Jimin’s chest.
He spends exactly half a second wondering if this is what it’s like for someone to put up with him
for a day, but rather brusquely pushes that bit of self-reflection away.

“What is it now?” Jimin drawls with a sigh. He leans against the doorframe, waits for whatever
overly-dramatic explanation Seokjin seems like he’s about to give.

But all Seokjin does is stutter, “I- I don’t- He- You better just come see for yourself.”

Jimin almost wants to grumble, because their wedding is scheduled to start in an hour and a half,
and Jimin is running out of time to talk to Yeona and come up with increasingly elaborate pranks.
In the back of his head, a small voice protests that he wanted tradition, and that tradition dictates
that he not see Jeongguk until the moment they walk down the aisle, but Jimin has spent all day
screwing tradition so thoroughly that he doesn’t pay it any attention.

“Fine,” Jimin harrumphs, already brainstorming ideas to take back to Yeona once whatever this is
concludes.

He swipes the stolen wedding ring into his pocket and starts to plod along after Seokjin, expecting
the other Fae to settle into his usual walking pace, but Seokjin turns on his heel and fucking books
it down the hallway towards the stairs.

It’s then that the tiniest, most insignificant bit of actual worry drops into Jimin’s nervous system.
Even though Jimin is committed to keeping his cool and coming out of this prank war on top, the
message doesn’t seem to be making its way to Jimin’s feet. Almost automatically, Jimin picks up
into a run and speeds after Seokjin.

His legs pump as Jimin vaults up the staircase for probably the fifth time that day. Seokjin speeds
ahead of him, almost reduced to a blur of white with how fast he’s running.

It’s just another prank , Jimin reassures himself as his lungs heave with exertion, It’s just another
stupid prank. His heart seems to have its doubts; it slams out a familiar staccato on his ribs, in his
eardrums.

Seokjin leads them onto the landing of the fourth floor, down the hallway that leads to Jeongguk’s
glass-walled study. He only stops once Jimin has caught up to him. Chest heaving, Seokjin jerks
his head towards the door. “You better go in,” is all he offers by way of explanation, “I’ll go get
Yeona. She’ll know what to do.”

“Know what to-” Jimin tries to ask, but Seokjin is already flying back towards the staircase.

The worry in Jimin’s chest expands just a smidge, just enough to make him nervous.

At this point, as Jimin opens the wooden door, he’s actively anticipating a variety of situations. The
most likely possibility is that this is all another one of Jeongguk’s elaborate pranks-- Jeongguk will
probably be on the other side of the door ready to shoot Jimin with a stream of water or pour a tub
of milk on Jimin’s head.

Of course, there’s also the small possibility that Jeongguk is inside, hurt or bleeding or in danger.

It’s this second possibility that makes Jimin open the door so quickly that he almost tears it clean
off of its hinges.
And then Jimin’s heart stops, because he hadn’t expected this at all.

Jeongguk sits in the middle of his room facing the opposite wall of windows that look out onto the
setting sun. Behind him, his dull golden wings droop onto the floor defeatedly. He’s slumped over;
even from behind Jimin can tell that Jeongguk has got his head in his hands.

But what catches Jimin’s attention is the state of the rest of the room.

Jeongguk’s bed is entirely torn apart. The pillows are flung wildly about the room, and his sheets
sit on the floor in a rumple of sad silk. His mattress is standing in one corner, and it looks like
Jeongguk actually pulled a few support beams off of the bed frame.

The rest of the room isn’t much better: all of the papers that are usually stacked high on
Jeongguk’s writing desk are strewn carelessly about; a little pot of black ink slowly drip drip drips
onto the polished floor; Jeongguk’s dresser doors are flung open, trousers and tunics and
underthings messily tossed onto the closest surface.

It looks like it’s been torn apart.

Jimin’s heart sinks lower and lower and lower , because nothing about this situation is screaming ‘
pranked you!’

He takes a tentative step towards Jeongguk’s figure, closes the door quietly behind him.
“...Jeongguk?” Jimin whispers.

Jeongguk makes a choking sound, and then he turns around. Jeongguk’s usually perfectly styled
sandy hair hands limply on his forehead. There are smudges of black ink on his cheekbones, like
he’s been rubbing his face with ink-stained hands. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying.
Jimin hates seeing Jeongguk cry. If possible, the sight of his face makes Jimin feel even worse.

“Jeongguk?” Jimin repeats, rushing forward fast enough that he almost slips in his haste. “Pigeon,
what’s wrong? What happened?” Jimin’s already gearing up to fight whoever the fuck had the
audacity to make Jeongguk look like this-- Jeongguk, who is usually so self-assured and strong.

Jeongguk makes a strangled noise deep in his throat and hangs his head, even as Jimin snakes his
hands out to cradle Jeongguk’s cheeks. As Jimin rubs his thumbs over the curves of Jeongguk’s
face, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck, Jeongguk half-sobs, “I fucked up, Jimin.”

“With what?”

“I just-” Jeongguk brings his eyes up to meet Jimin’s, hesitates, looks away.

Jimin’s heart clenches with the worry that’s swelling into a crashing wave.

“I messed up. I made a mistake, Jimin,” Jeongguk repeats.

“Jeongguk, you’re scaring me,” Jimin says. He does his best to keep his voice level, but something
about the way Jeongguk seems to be avoiding his eyes is really starting to send Jimin into a
panicked downward spiral.

Shaking his head, Jeongguk takes in a shuddering breath.

And on the next exhale, Jimin stops breathing, because Jeongguk is whispering:
 “I can’t get married to you.”

Chapter End Notes

*sad trombone noises*

Make sure that everyone knows that Ash Did Wedding Angst First. No one tell me
that I didn't; I will cry.

I also feel like it's important to mention that, at the time that I wrote this, I was
bingeing New Girl for the 7th time and listening to "Too Cool" from Camp Rock
while writing. I think that this lethal combination is what led to the majority of this
chapter.

...did you enjoy the egg scene, original commenter? I hope I did you justice.

Until next week!

-Ash

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 Part III: In which Park Jimin gets some Perspective
Chapter Summary

“You worry about us?” Jeongguk asks gently, his voice uncharacteristically small.
“You’re scared of marrying me?”

Chapter Notes

Hello everybody, and welcome to Juneteenth!

Well, I don't know how we did it, but for the second time we have reached the end of
Good Housekeeping. :))
And unlike last time, this really is the end! I don't plan on extending this story any
more, so here-- please enjoy the last little bit of idiocy that this cast of characters will
bring into your life.

If you are present on Twitter, you may've seen that I'll finally be finishing Dead in the
Water in a week or so, so... ahah. Stay tuned for that! Until then, rejoice in the fact that
this week you FINALLY get to witness the wedding that I've lorded over your heads
for so long.

Oh! And one final note: there's some ~mature~ content at the end, which I've
separated from the rest of the work with some ****. Stop reading when you encounter
these and skip to the next section if you're uncomfortable reading that sort of thing.

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There are about a thousand feelings that should be flying through Jimin’s head right now. He
should be feeling devastation, or horror, or panic-- something that appropriately matches
Jeongguk’s declaration. Jimin doesn’t feel any of those things. In fact, he doesn’t exactly feel
anything at all.

There’s a tightness in Jimin’s chest, but his head is foggy and muddled. Over the persistent ringing
in his ears, Jimin hears himself stutter, “W-What?”

Any hope of Jimin having misheard flies out the window as Jeongguk sniffs. He looks up at Jimin
again, sucks in a shaky inhale, and repeats, “I can’t marry you.”

“Oh.” Jimin blinks. His hands fall from Jeongguk’s cheeks and settle in his own lap. Jimin’s eyes
automatically trace the movement until he’s looking down at his palms, fighting back the sudden
stinging that lances through his eyes.

Do not cry, he hisses at himself firmly. Don’t .

So for the first time in a long while, Jimin pushes his emotions down and to the side, just enough
to manage to ask, “Are you having second thoughts? About- About us?”

It’s only as Jeongguk takes a quick breath that Jimin realizes with astonishing clarity that he
truthfully doesn’t want to hear the answer. Even if all of his past experiences with Jeongguk point
to the fact that Jeongguk being reticent isn’t really what’s going on here, the tiniest possibility of
Jeongguk having doubts is enough to send Jimin’s heart kicking up into a staccato.

“Getting married, I mean,” Jimin plows ahead, silencing Jeongguk before he can even start talking,
“I know that we might be moving kind of fast, and- and that you might need time to figure out who
you are before you throw me into the mix too, but I- I just thought that-”

Jeongguk makes a sound of confusion. “Darling,” he starts, “I-”

“I understand if you need a break,” Jimin finds himself saying. It’s not even true. He doesn’t
understand it, because he can’t understand it, because Jimin doesn’t want to take a break. He wants
the opposite of a break. But saying anything seems to be better than having to pause long enough to
hear the words that are threatening to fall out of Jeongguk’s mouth, so Jimin continues, “I know
that we sort of rushed into this, and if you need more time to- to adjust to life after the war, then I
support you.”

There’s some rustling from behind Jeongguk, like he’s puffing up his wings in distress. “To adjust?
What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying that I understand you!” Jimin practically shouts. He’s still looking at his hands, tracing
the lines on his palms, trying not to remember the feeling of Jeongguk’s hand slotting perfectly
against his own.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Jeongguk is parroting slowly, “You… understand me?”

Don’t cry , Jimin reminds himself as his emotion threatens to spill over as he’s suddenly filled with
too much feeling. Quietly, and almost to himself, Jimin murmurs, “I understand how terrifying
getting married sounds. Sometimes I- I wake up in the middle of the night and just… worry about
the future. Our future. So I get it, Jeongguk.”

The quiet that follows is almost deafening. Jimin stares so hard at the center of his palms that he
almost expects them to start bursting into flames. There’s this strange sort of pull in his chest,
screaming at him to take it all back, to declare that he didn’t mean it. Jimin ignores it and tries not
to breathe.

Jimin sees Jeongguk’s hand rise a moment later. Carefully, Jeongguk reaches over the distance
between them and takes Jimin’s hand in his own. He swipes his thumb over the inside of Jimin’s
palm, and it’s so strangely intimate that Jimin’s breath hitches in his chest.
“You worry about us?” Jeongguk asks gently, his voice uncharacteristically small. “You’re scared
of marrying me?”

Jimin’s head snaps up at the small tremor in Jeongguk’s voice, even though it’s clear that Jeongguk
is trying valiantly to keep his voice level. When he looks up, he’s confronted all at once with the
sight of Jeongguk, misty-eyed and concerned, staring back at him with a not-so-insignificant
amount of fear weighing down the corners of his mouth.

“No!” Jimin exclaims quickly. He looks Jeongguk in the eyes, clarifies, “I just mean that I
understand why you are. I can understand if you’re having cold feet. I’m aware that I’m not exactly
the easiest person in the world to deal with.”

That’s the understatement of the millennium, Jimin thinks to himself, just a little bit bitter.

Something in his words must ease some of Jeongguk’s worry though, because in the next heartbeat
the terror is sliding its way off of Jeongguk’s face. In its place, confusion rises.

Jeongguk tilts his head to the side and furrows his brow. His hold on Jimin’s hand tightens a bit,
and then he says, deadly serious, “Jimin, I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with
myself. I am in no way afraid of marrying you.”

For a moment, Jimin is swept away by the certainty in Jeongguk’s voice. It reminds Jimin of all
the times Jeongguk has kissed him breathless, or mesmerized him with a look, or muttered small ‘I
love yous’ into Jimin’s skin while slowly rocking into him.

Blinking, Jimin whispers, “But then- what do you mean? What’s going on?”

Jeongguk’s wings draw in like he’s trying to protect himself. The feathers settle against themselves
nervously, and Jeongguk swallows audibly in the silence of the room. “Please don’t be mad,” he
starts.

“I won’t,” Jimin assures immediately.

Piquing up an eyebrow skeptically, Jeongguk drawls, “You sure about that?”

Jimin has to resist the urge to grin. “I’m eighty-five percent certain that I won’t get mad.”

“That’s a great percentage, coming from you.”

“I’m working on it.”

Jeongguk looks reassured by the little bit of humor that tints Jimin’s voice. He sniffs, shifts
awkwardly, and adjusts his grip on Jimin’s hand. “Well. I- uhm,” Jeongguk mutters embarrassedly,
“I seem to have misplaced your wedding ring, darling.”

Relief cascades through Jimin’s entire being. “Oh,” is all he says.

“Yeah.” Jeongguk’s wings draw in some more, and Jimin almost wants to coo at the sight of his
usual big-and-bad, ex-Nightmare of a lover looking ready to be chastised.

Instead of the tongue-lashing Jeongguk is probably expecting, Jimin hums, “Is that all?”

Jeongguk chokes. His eyes widen as he darts them up to look at Jimin incredulously. “Is- Is that
all?” he echoes. “Jimin, we’re getting married in an hour, and I don’t have your wedding band!”

He looks so panicked, so undeniably scared that the guilt that’d been building in Jimin’s chest from
earlier slowly grows in volume. Yeah , that annoying voice in his head sighs, stealing the ring was
a bad idea.

“Jeongguk, I-”

“Listen, darling. I know that you wanted today to be perfect, and I know that I’ve been messing
that up all day, but I swear that I didn’t do this on purpose,” Jeongguk rushes to add.

Jeongguk looks like he’s a half-breath away from opening his mouth again and launching the most
long-winded apology of his life, so Jimin interrupts hastily, “Actually, I have the ring.” He dips his
free hand into the pocket of his trousers, fishes around, and produces the silver, diamond-studded
ring.

Jimin watches with bated breath as Jeongguk looks down at the ring, up at Jimin, and then back
down at the ring. Jeongguk’s mouth opens and closes uselessly. “You- you have-” he stutters.

And then, much louder, Jeongguk screeches, “But why ?!”

Wincing sheepishly, Jimin shoots for a smile and offers a half-shrug. “...pranked?” he tries.
“Revenge, maybe?”

“Oh my gods, Jimin!” Jeongguk hisses, but he only looks half-angry. Jeongguk picks the ring out
of Jimin’s palm tenderly, like he’s afraid that it’s going to disappear if he moves too fast or breathes
too suddenly. “Just- it’s your wedding ring, Jimin. Out of all the ways you could’ve gotten back at
me, why in gods’ names did you choose this?”

Jimin clears his throat. “You took my seating chart,” he explains, still trying to get a read on just
how fucked he is right now.

“I know. I know,” Jeongguk grumbles. He tries his best to look angry-- Jeongguk furrows his
brow, brings his wings up higher to posture-- but the relief at holding the ring in his hands again
seems to overwhelm any attempt at actually being upset. Sure enough, a moment later, his
shoulders drop tiredly. “Gods, I don’t even care. I’m just glad that I didn’t lose it.”

And Jeongguk looks so relieved that the fingers of guilt start crawling their way back up Jimin’s
throat. Even though he already has a feeling that he knows the answer, Jimin asks, “Is that why you
were calling this off? Because you lost my ring?”

“Yes!” Jeongguk exclaims. He clenches his fist tightly around the ring. “Why did you even take it?
How did you think that this would be a good idea?”

Jimin bristles, just a bit. “Yeona suggested it, actually,” he deflects like a pro.

And then, just because Jeongguk seems hellbent on giving Jimin the emotional whiplash of his
life, Jeongguk makes a little ‘what?’ noise in the back of his throat. “But Yeona was helping me
prank you.”

“What?” Jimin huffs, shaking his head in disbelief, “No, she was helping Taehyung and I prank
you.”

They stare at each other for a minute, and then Jeongguk tilts his head back into a cackle. “She-” he
laughs, almost hysterically, “That fucking two-timer!”

Jimin can’t help it. Jeongguk’s laughter always feels effervescent, bubbling something in Jimin’s
chest until he can’t keep himself from cracking a smile as well. “She played us. She really, truly
played us.”

“I will rip her fucking wings off,” Jeongguk titters as he comes down from his high. He finally lets
go of Jimin’s hand long enough to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. “But I’ll do it later.”

His eyes go straying down to the silver ring still resting in his clenched hand. Jimin watches as
Jeongguk bodily relaxes. The late-afternoon sunlight washes into the room to paint Jeongguk’s
face in pinks and golds, and he looks so soft that Jimin suddenly feels like a grade-A asshole.

So, even though it physically pains him, Jimin forces himself to swallow his pride. “Jeongguk,
I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows. “You’re sorry? For what?”

Jimin has to resist the urge to snort. “The pranks,” he explains, waving a hand to gesture vaguely
about the room. “Your tunic, the ring. The, uh. The strip tease.” Jimin feels the beginnings of a
blush creep up his neck at the thought of the thing that landed them in this position in the first
place (and then the daydream that followed).

Like he’s reading Jimin’s mind, Jeongguk guffaws. “Please never apologize for taking all your
clothes off. Last night was honestly one of the best nights of my life,” Jeongguk says earnestly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk confirms easily. He smiles, wider this time, and looks at Jimin with the kind of
affection in his eyes that makes Jimin want to squirm or combust or jump him right now. “I just
missed you,” Jeongguk admits, “And I- I didn’t want you to go last night.”

Jimin’s heart clenches in his chest as Jeongguk looks away. Jeongguk scratches the back of his
neck and turns the lightest shade of pink. Even his wings manage to swoop downwards in
embarrassment as he mumbles, “I may or may not have the irrational fear that I’m going to lose
you one day.”

Before Jeongguk has the opportunity to move away at all, Jimin surges forward and plants himself
firmly on Jeongguk’s lap. Out of sheer reflex, Jeongguk’s hands shoot up to settle on Jimin’s hips
for stability.

“I don’t think it’s irrational,” Jimin whispers back as he brings his palms back up to cup
Jeongguk’s cheeks, “And besides, Jeongguk, I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. And if
I do leave, I’m sure as hell taking you with me.”

Jeongguk looks up at him, eyes glimmering. “You mean it?”

“Weren’t you the one who said it first?” Jimin huffs, “We’re better together.”

“You’re strong enough without me,” Jeongguk counters.

With a shrug, Jimin volleys back, “And you’re strong enough without me. But I want to be with
you.”

Jeongguk stares at him for a solid minute, searching Jimin’s face for any flicker of doubt. Jimin
wants to tell him that he isn’t going to find any, but he lets Jeongguk look anyway. For his own
sanity.

“You know, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For the daydream, and the seating chart, and the
fountains,” Jeongguk apologizes softly.

“The fountains were a pretty low blow,” Jimin hums, and then slides his hands back to snake
through Jeongguk’s hair, “But I did like the daydream.” He lets his voice drop a little lower, adds
some huskiness to it. “I just wish it’d been real.”

The way Jeongguk’s hands tighten on his hips sends a spark of lightning up the base of Jimin’s
spine. “I’ll make it real tonight,” Jeongguk promises, voice pitched just as low.

Jimin shivers. He breathes, “You better,” and then Jeongguk’s lips are on his own so fast that he
doesn’t even have time to gasp.

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but Jimin is fairly sure that he has an out-of-body experience as
Jeongguk kisses him. It’s not even much more than a press of lips, but Jeongguk is just so fucking
good at making Jimin go weak in the knees that Jimin sort of wants to scream.

Jeongguk pulls out all the stops-- one of his arms wraps all the way around Jimin’s waist to pull
him close, and then he’s tipping his head to the side to give himself a better angle to nip along
Jimin’s bottom lip. Slowly, Jimin can feel himself going boneless. It certainly doesn’t help that
Jeongguk knows all of his weak spots (like the corner of his mouth, or the bow of his lips that
Jeongguk always makes sure to pay attention to).

Eyes closed, Jimin tosses his arms around Jeongguk’s neck and just goes along for the ride. When
Jeongguk pulls away, Jimin chases his lips unabashedly. Jeongguk laughs, and his wings puff up
happily, but he pecks Jimin’s mouth once, twice, before he withdraws.

Jimin struggles to open his eyes as he catches his breath. His heart feels like it’s jumping and
shouting from within his chest, and Jimin has one of those moments-- one of those snapshot
feelings that nothing can ever be this perfect again.

But then Jeongguk is running the calloused pad of his thumb across Jimin’s cheekbone, and Jimin
blinks his eyes open slowly.

Jeongguk stares back at him. Affection swims in his eyes, and Jimin is sort of willing to let himself
drown in them, but then Jeongguk is asking, low and soft, “But what about you, my love? What
about your fears?”

“‘M not afraid,” Jimin replies. His voice is embarrassingly raspy, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to
care.

“You said you understood,” Jeongguk says as he drags his thumb slowly up and down Jimin’s
cheek, “You said you’d understand if I was having cold feet. Is that because you are?” And then,
even though Jimin knows how much Jeongguk is dying to get married, Jeongguk offers, “We don’t
have to do this. Not today, at least.”

Jimin shakes his head so fast that he’s worried for a second he might snap his neck. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to marry you,” Jimin explains, leaning back down for a quick press of lips just to nail the
point home, “I really, really want to marry you. Sometimes I just-”

He breaks off. This is somewhat uncharted territory; after a century of loneliness, emotional
intelligence doesn’t just come in a day. It takes small, painful steps just like these.
Jimin inhales deeply, tries again. “I just can’t believe that this is really happening. I can’t believe
that everything is over, that I don’t have to look over my shoulder constantly. I’m not fixed yet,
Jeongguk, I’m not-”

“Fixed?” Jeongguk interrupts. Something like concern storms along his brow. Jeongguk’s wings
rise protectively like he’s gearing up to fight the world for Jimin. “There’s nothing broken about
you.”

Jimin shrugs. Rationally, it might be true, but there’s something in his brain that whispers that
everything he’s been through has put him through a calculus of harm so thoroughly damaging that
he’ll never be quite whole again. “I still get nightmares, Jeongguk. I know that you’ve noticed.”

“So do I,” Jeongguk volleys back, “and even if that were a valid criterion for ‘brokenness’,
whatever the hell that means, I don’t need you to be perfect, Jimin. Gods know that I’m not. I just
want you to be you, because that’s already perfect.”

Jimin feels the mix of elation and endearment that always turns him into a puddle of mush. It’s
both incredibly euphoric and disgusting. He sasses back, “And you don’t mind being tied to me for
the rest of your life?”

Jeongguk actually scoffs. He hugs around Jimin’s waist tighter, pulls him in closer, and tilts
Jimin’s chin down so that they’re eye-to-eye. “Why are you saying that like it’s some kind of
punishment?” Jeongguk asks playfully, “Jimin, it’d be an honor to be your husband.”

And Jimin can’t help it. Despite his best intentions to maintain his ‘take no shit and give no fucks’
exterior, Jimin feels a lump of emotion lodging itself in his throat. “I-” he tries to start, but it comes
out strangled even to his own ears.

“Oh, darling, please don’t cry,” Jeongguk pleads softly, “It always makes me useless when you
cry.”

“I know, I- just give me a minute.”

Jimin fully intends to turn away to wipe the few tears that fall, but Jeongguk is having none of it.
He tilts up and kisses the corners of Jimin’s eyes, stopping the little rivulets in their tracks. In
between each kiss, Jeongguk finds the space to mutter, “So? What do you say? Should we get
married today?”

Smiling bright enough that he can feel it in his bones, Jimin nods. “Jeongguk,” he replies
breathlessly, “I don’t think I could wait any longer if you asked me to.”

Jimin can feel the grin on Jeongguk’s mouth from where it’s pressed against his cheek. In one
smooth sweep, Jeongguk hooks his arms around Jimin, beats his wings for momentum, and lifts
Jimin up off the ground and into his arms. “Then let’s do this,” Jeongguk says, and he sounds
elated, “Let’s get-”

The door smashes open.

In comes Taehyung, the best emotional cock-blocker of the decade.

At the sound of the door banging back against its hinges, Jeongguk inadvertently springs into
action. He drops Jimin, who lands on his ass on the ground with a thump, and produces a dagger
seemingly out of nowhere.
Jeongguk’s eyes are wild for the half-second it takes him to recognize Taehyung, and Jimin’s heart
stops beating at the sight of the primal fear in Jeongguk’s stare.

But then Jeongguk is exhaling shakily, “Taehyung, holy shit.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung apologizes, hands up to defend himself if need be, “Seokjin told me you were
having a meltdown, and I forgot about the ‘no loud noises’ thing.”

Jimin rights himself, rubbing his backside when it protests. “A little warning next time would
probably be a good thing.”

Taehyung winces again. “Sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” Seokjin practically screeches as he hurtles around the corner and into the
doorway, “Is the wedding off? Jimin, did you chop Jeongguk’s dick off for losing your ring?”

Jimin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the pained grimace on Jeongguk’s face. “He
didn’t lose it. And yes, the wedding’s on.”

“Oh, thank gods,” Taehyung sighs in relief, “Because, not to alarm you, but there are about two
hundred Fae arriving in swarms on the lawn outside and we still have no seating chart. Also the
fountains are running rampant shooting stragglers in the ass. Also we’re still having chicken for
dinner, apparently. Just a heads up.”

Jimin freezes. Because for all of the pranks he’d pulled earlier, he hadn’t ever seriously considered
the consequences until right now. “Oh. My gods,” he nearly bleats in panic.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeongguk echoes a moment later, “The pranks. Oh, fuck.”

“...I can see that you’re panicking,” Taehyung laughs nervously, “But you know what-- leave it up
to me! I’m The Best Man. I can do this.” He offers two thumbs up and slowly walks backwards out
of the room, tugging Seokjin along with him by the collar, “You two just get ready. Don’t worry
about it. Seriously, don’t worry.”

Though he’s already down the hallway, Jimin calls after Taehyung, “You having to stress for us
not to worry is making me worry!”

“It’ll be fine!” Taehyung’s call bounces down the hallway, “Everything will be fine!”

“Are you still sure you want to do this?” Jeongguk jokes as Taehyung and Seokjin’s footsteps
recede into the background.

Jimin shrugs with more confidence than he feels. “We survived a war. We can survive a few
wedding mishaps.”

“And if we don’t, we can always just trap all the witnesses inside and burn the whole house down.”

With a peal of laughter, Jimin slaps Jeongguk lightly on the chest. “I’ll see you soon, alright? I
have to get ready for my big moment.”

“I’ll be the one trying and failing not to cry,” Jeongguk grins back at him.

It’s hard for Jimin to force his feet to move-- to take him away from Jeon Jeongguk, with the sweet
words and kisses like fire and the wicked sense of humor. Jimin eventually manages, but he makes
the mistake of looking back just once.
Jeongguk waits in the doorway, tracking Jimin’s movements with his eyes.

Jimin makes himself look away, but for the first time, he feels the kind of fluttered excitement in
his chest that he suspects he should’ve been feeling all along. For the first time, it’s not stress or
anxiety that bubbles in his chest whenever he thinks about his wedding. It’s something wholly
new, something that only comes with knowing that, after tonight, the rest of Jimin’s life begins.

Jimin spends an unholy amount of time looking at himself in the mirror.

It’s just that, for the majority of his life, he never expected that he’d get here-- that he’d even get to
have a wedding in the first place. Back at the Bureau, weddings or mating ceremonies or unions
were reserved for only those within the upper echelons of management. For those for whom
partnership wasn’t considered dangerous.

To be honest, Jimin doesn’t even know what to call what he’s about to do. Jeongguk’s parents had
called it a mating ceremony, but Jimin doesn’t even know what his kind of Fae (whatever that may
be) would’ve called it. He has no roots, no reference point to guide his perspective. All he knows is
that whatever this is involves rings (a human custom), some kind of painting ceremony that
Jeongguk’s parents had been mysteriously cryptic about, and that Jeongguk will be wearing the
traditional accoutrements of his Weaver class.

Thankfully, Taehyung stepped up to help Jimin through the worst of his confusion. He’d taken it
upon himself to have a custom outfit made for Jimin. Technically, it’s from the Nøkken cultural
tradition, but Jimin finds that he loves it.

The bottom is long and flowy and resembles the robes that Yoongi wears whenever he’s
spellcasting. At the waistline of the bottoms are two golden, semi-sheer panels of fabric that rise to
criss-cross over Jimin’s chest. They hang over Jimin’s shoulders and connect behind his back to
form one longer panel that drops to his mid-back. The rest of Jimin’s back is exposed, but Seokjin
works to fill the empty spaces with small, almost invisible strands of diamonds.

Jimin has no other adornment on (save for the small swipe of pigment over his lips) and he’s
barefoot, but he can’t stop looking at himself. It’s perfect. It’s perfect .

He hopes that Jeongguk loves it just as much as he does.

And though Jimin should be paying attention to Seokjin’s barked instructions for him to turn, or
spin, or do whatever the hell he’s telling Jimin to do, Jimin’s thoughts stray towards his fiance.

He wonders what Jeongguk is doing.

…
Jeongguk stands in the center of his room, surrounded by his walls of windows. The light is dying
outside, and the stars above glimmer down on him as though they’re giving their blessings. Around
him, his family works. They’d returned from the invitation-distribution only about a half-hour ago
with two hundred guests in tow. And now they encircle him, readying him for the union.

Jisoo and Haneul hold small basins of white and golden ochre up for the rest of Jeongguk’s family
members to dip their fingers into.

This part is tradition-- part of Jeongguk’s heritage as a Weaver, something that was passed from his
parents’ grandparents (though they weren’t exactly Weavers) to his parents’ parents, and from his
parents to him. From the waist up, Jeongguk is naked. Yeona wasn’t able to save his tunic for the
reception after all. But that doesn’t matter so much now, because he’ll be taking the markings that
his family leave on him above his deep black trousers into the ceremony.

Yeona dips her fingers into the gold pigment and steps up first.

“For remembrance,” she says with a smile plucking her lips up at the corners. “May you always
remember where you came from. Use this knowledge to guide you, wherever you head.” Carefully,
she takes two of her fingers and lifts them to Jeongguk’s forehead, draws two vertical lines from
his hairline to his brow-bone. There are tears in her eyes when she finishes, “Take this to him.”

Jeongguk has to force himself to not reach out and crush her into a hug when she starts to walk
away. He remains still, and Malchin steps up next.

His thumb is streaked with white ochre, and he draws it down Jeongguk’s throat in one long sweep.
Uncharacteristically serious, Malchin speaks, “For patience. Mind your words, because they have
power. Do not give it away so easily.” He nods once and adds, “Take this to him.”

Jisoo and Haneul hand the basins of pigment to their parents. Together, they slide their palms
through the gold ochre and approach Jeongguk.

“For health,” Haneul begins. He drags his palm from Jeongguk’s left collarbone to his left
shoulder. The pigment bleeds into his golden tattoos perfectly. Haneul nods in satisfaction. “May
you stay resilient in the face of adversity.”

Jisoo mirrors the marking on Jeongguk’s right side. “For luck. Do not take your fortune for
granted, and celebrate it in whatever form it comes.”

As one, his two older siblings smile. “Take these gifts to him.”

It’s when Daeshim steps up that Jeongguk feels tears spring into his eyes. He begs them not to fall
as his father picks up some white ink with his fingertips. As he approaches, Daeshim says, voice
choked-up, “For joy.” He draws intricate whorls of white down Jeongguk’s chest and ribs,
centered around his heart.

“Rejoice in your union. Remember to laugh at the stars and dance in the fields,” Daeshim manages
to say, “Remember to live fully. Take this to him.”

And then Junghwa comes to a halt in front of him. Her hands are painted with a mix of gold and
white, and when she speaks, it’s through tears. “For love, as it binds all the other gifts together,”
Junghwa grins as she paints around Jeongguk’s abdomen, across the small of his back, and up to
the base of his wings. “Know that this is a beginning, Jeongguk. Take pride in being brave enough
to walk this journey with him.”

Jeongguk looks out at his family, surrounding him in a semicircle. They look back at him, eyes
shining in the firelight. Jeongguk bends at the waist, bowing deeply. “I’ll make you proud,”
Jeongguk recites as he looks at the ground, warmed from the inside out. “I’ll take these gifts to
him.”

“Then you’re ready,” Junghwa sniffs. She surreptitiously wipes at her eyes and nods towards the
doorway. “I think it’s time.”

Jeongguk rights himself and nods. He walks towards the door wondering if Jimin feels this same
warmth right now, if he can feel the way Jeongguk is loving him even across the distance between
them.

“Nervous?” Seokjin asks as he leads Jimin down the east wing of the manor. He walks a few paces
ahead, just enough that Jimin has a little bit of privacy.

Jimin can only smile. He’s not nervous-- not at all . All he can feel is this indescribable flood of
emotion blooming in his chest. It sings in his heart, races through his ribs, and extends outwards
through all of his limbs until Jimin practically feels like he’s in danger of floating away.

“No,” Jimin answers honestly. “Just excited.”

Seokjin hums his approval. “Good. There’s nothing to be worried about,” he says, “Taehyung dealt
with everything in record time. He’s got a strange knack for party planning.”

“Did he use any of my plans?” Jimin asks out of morbid curiosity.

“Not at all.”

Jimin has to snort. It’s par for the course, but at this point he honestly wouldn’t care if his wedding
were in a graveyard or in a field of flowers. It’s the Fae who’ll be meeting him at the altar who
makes all of this worth it.

So Jimin puts all thoughts of the crowd, or the potentially disastrous chicken course out of his head
in favor of existing in the moment for once.

He feels the way his bare feet move over the cold marble of the floor; Jimin notices the glow of
the candlelight warming his cheekbones as he passes the floating candelabras. He passes by the
familiar corners and hallways in Somnus, documenting the first time that he laid eyes on each of
them as he goes.

Over there is the spot where he was first shot by one of Jeongguk’s fountains. To his right is the
place that Jeongguk chased him after being lit on fire. And just a little bit ahead-- that’s where
Jeongguk appeared out of thin air just a few nights ago to pepper kisses all along Jimin’s face, just
a quick check-in before disappearing once again.

Jimin holds each of the memories tight as he turns the corner on the ground floor. He doesn’t want
to forget them. Not even a second of time he spends with Jeongguk should be forgotten, even if
they have eternity together.

“Jimin?” Seokjin says suddenly, and the sound of it pulls Jimin out of his thoughts. When Jimin
makes a noise of acknowledgement, Seokjin continues, “I- I don’t really know how to put this, but.
Thank you. For everything you’ve done.”

Jimin’s eyebrows rise of their own volition. “I haven’t done anything.”

“I mean for everything you did for Jeongguk,” Seokjin corrects. His back is still to Jimin, but Jimin
can easily make out the embarrassed tint of pink that tops his ears. “He was family for Namjoon
and I growing up, and seeing what happened to him for these past seventy years was torture. I
didn’t- I honestly didn’t think we’d ever get the old Jeongguk back.”

Seokjin has to clear his throat before continuing. “So, thank you for finding him in there. For
bringing him back, even though he fought like hell to stay hidden.”

“I-” Jimin begins. The warmth building in him turns into a blaze, until Jimin is practically certain
he’s going to combust on the spot. “I-”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that we’re grateful to you, Jimin. And,
I think this goes without saying, but we’re delighted to have you joining our family once and for
all,” Seokjin says quietly.

And Jimin doesn't even know where to begin. There’s too much he wants to say in return-- he
wants to point out that Jeongguk helped him just as much as he helped Jeongguk, that he couldn’t
have survived everything without each and every one of them, that he’s just as excited to join the
family.

What comes out of his mouth is:

“Does this mean I get a discount at your caravan?”

Seokjin cackles, and the sound reverberates throughout the stone halls. “You’re such a brat,” he
chuckles merrily. “Let’s go get you hitched before I change my mind and take back everything I
just said.”

Jimin just follows along, a smile on his lips, and walks to meet his destiny.

On the opposite side of the manor, right there at the base of the western wing, Jeongguk stands
before a set of closed doors. Outside, he knows that there are hundreds of Fae-- Fae who he’s
never met before, but who his parents assure him would love to celebrate with them.

Outside, there’s a group of humans plucking instruments. Absentminded chattering makes its way
in from under the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. The slightest of summer
breezes pushes its way through as well, and it curls around Jeongguk’s ankles.

Outside, only a few hundred or so feet away, he knows that Park Jimin is standing behind a similar
set of doors.

But in the west wing, behind these doors, Jeongguk is surrounded by his family. There are the
Jeons, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok, all dressed to the nines and waiting to send Jeongguk out
towards his future.
He turns towards them, unsure of how he can express all the words he feels he needs to say.
‘Thanks for getting this far ’ feels like an understatement; ‘ thanks for sticking with me’ sounds like
a greeting card.

Jeongguk settles on saying nothing, but they all seem to understand anyway.

It’s only quiet for another minute or so before Hoseok is clearing his throat. As the music outside
swells into a crescendo, Hoseok prompts, “Well? Don’t you want to see him?”

Jeongguk doesn’t even have to think about it.

Yes.

He starts to push the door open.

Jimin stands behind a set of doors.

Taehyung stands next to him, holds his hand while Jimin tries to catch his breath.

“Thanks for taking care of everything,” Jimin whispers. “Just wanted to tell you that before I
forget.”

Taehyung hums in response. “Well, I couldn’t fix the dinner situation, so Jeongguk’s fucked, but
the rest was salvageable.”

“Then, thank you for taking care of mostly everything,” Jimin corrects with an amused huff.

With a quick, final once-over, Taehyung drinks in Jimin’s outfit. He nods approvingly. “You did
fantastic, Seokjin.”

“You’re damn right I did.” Seokjin’s chest puffs out with pride.

The music swells outside, and Jimin knows that that’s his cue to open the doors and walk outside
to meet Jeongguk.

Taehyung sucks in a breath through his teeth like he’s battling his emotions. “Any last words as an
unmarried Fae?” he asks through the emotion clearly coating his tongue.

There are many.

I did it, Jimin considers saying, imagining that he’s speaking to the parents he never knew. I did it.
I escaped; we won. And now- now I’m here.

You don’t have to worry about me anymore. Your son did just fine.
Jimin doesn’t say any of those words. He doesn’t need to. Whoever they are, wherever they are,
Jimin is certain that they hear him.

So to Taehyung and Seokjin, to himself, and the stars overhead, Jimin announces, “Here’s to
eternity.”

And with that, Park Jimin throws open the doors.

For the first few moments that follow the doors swinging open, Jeongguk is struck still. He’s
blinded by the lights for a sharp minute, but only because they’re everywhere . There are lights up
there-- tucked right up into the bows of the oak trees that Yoongi spelled to grow last week for this
precise occasion; and there-- floating in fuzzy spheres of warm light that litter among the
mahogany dining tables that are encircled by all kinds of Fae; and there -- dangling in front of the
wedding arch Daeshim carved with his bare hands. The gobs of light drip and hang from the top of
the arch, right from where white roses cascade down the sides of the arch that’re made of twisted
tree branches.

And then the rest of the scene registers. Among the crowd of hundreds of Fae, most of whom
Jeongguk has never met before, a sort of golden sheen hangs in the air. Jeongguk recognizes it as
Junghwa’s magic; it has the same strength that his mother has. The veil glitters brightly under the
starlight, casts everything in a hazy shade of reality.

There are candles that line the ground in what Jeongguk knows is an intricate pattern, but they’re
not lit yet. He’s not worried though; Jeongguk is aware that they’ll light at the perfect time. Right
when Jimin-

Jimin, Jeongguk thinks, because then he sees him.

Jeongguk forgets to breathe for a minute. His heart stops, skips, starts up again.

Jimin looks like a vision. He’s swathed from neck to ankle in luxurious linen, and Jeongguk can see
the little nets of diamonds that swathe whatever areas of bare skin Jimin exposes as he walks
towards the altar.

It hits Jeongguk just then that he’s really doing this. He’s really going to be with Jimin. For forever
. And this- this isn’t something that he’d ever allowed himself to imagine, even back before he was
a Nightmare. The prospect of finding someone interested enough in him to stick around for an
eternity seemed impossible. And when he was a Nightmare, it never even registered to Jeongguk
that somebody like Jimin would ever possibly consider someone like him .

But there’s Jimin, already waiting at the altar, looking radiant and wide-eyed and ecstatic .

“Move,” Yeona whispers to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk jerks forward suddenly, because while he’d been completely under Jimin’s spell, he’d
entirely forgotten that he was supposed to be walking as well. He feels his cheeks heat and hopes it
isn’t noticeable, but the tilt of Jimin’s lips seem to indicate otherwise.
Heartbeat thumping in time to the beat of his footsteps, Jeongguk approaches the arch. He’s only
mildly aware that Yoongi is following him. It slips his mind that Yoongi, as the oldest being
anyone can remember, is going to be officiating the ceremony. Everything else besides the way
Jimin is looking at Jeongguk like he’s completely run out of oxygen is extraneous as far as
Jeongguk is concerned.

And Jeongguk can’t help it. His mouth opens, and he repeats the first words he’d ever said to
Jimin.

“Hello, darling.”

Jimin smiles so brightly that Jimin honestly is afraid that he’s going to burst into flames. “Hello,
love,” Jimin whispers right back.

Jeongguk’s wings twitch excitedly at the endearment, and he really wants nothing more than to
sweep Jimin clean off his feet and take him far, far away, but Yoongi clears his throat before
Jeongguk can act on any of his impulses.

With a clap of his hands, Yoongi begins. “Tonight,” he booms louder than Jeongguk has ever
heard him speak, “We come to observe the rights of the Moon and Stars, at the end of-”

Jeongguk sort of tunes out what Yoongi is saying. It’s important, probably, but Jeongguk is still
caught in the slow-motion pull of Jimin’s gaze. From the cloudy look in Jimin’s eyes, it looks like
he is too.

What’re you looking at? Jimin’s cheeky smile seems to say.

You, Jeongguk communicates with a little tilt of his head. Only you.

Jimin’s cheeks color a beautiful shade of rose, and Jeongguk thinks he might cry at the sight.

“And so, we begin,” Yoongi concludes his introductory speech. He turns to Jeongguk, asks, “Are
the gifts prepared?”

Jeongguk snaps to attention. “Yes,” Jeongguk recites. “I hold them on my skin, in my heart.”

“Then let’s begin,” Yoongi grins. His decadent, midnight blue robes swish about as he raises his
hands to gesture discreetly at Hoseok.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeongguk sees Hoseok nod surreptitiously. Faster than Jeongguk can
even blink, Hoseok opens and closes his palms.

All of the hundreds of lights snuff out. All the Fae in the audience gasp as the area is washed in the
cool shades of darkness, but it doesn’t last for long. One by one, the previously-unlit candles
flicker to life. Jeongguk watches Jimin’s face as the flames ignite, marveling at the way the
firelight casts an ethereal glow across Jimin’s cheekbones.

The candles continue to light, drawing themselves into an elaborate, four-cornered knot and centers
around the altar. Jimin looks absolutely star-struck as he watches the candles flicker to life of their
own volition. Even though the Jeons prepared him for what a Weaver union consists of
beforehand, Jeongguk knows that it must be an entirely different experience to actually see it
happen.

“First, the presentation,” Yoongi speaks. His face is lit from behind by the light of the hundreds of
tiny flames that flicker and glow in the dark. “Jimin?”
Jeongguk watches the way Jimin freezes up a bit, no doubt a bit worried about messing up any
component of the ritual that he knows means so much to Jeongguk. The slight concern that furrows
between Jimin’s eyebrows makes Jeongguk’s heart soar, but he still whispers near-silently, “It’s
okay, Min.”

Jimin’s eyes snap up to meet his. “I- I may have forgotten what to do,” Jimin hisses back, equally
as quiet.

The near-panic is almost endearing, but Jeongguk doesn’t want any part of this night to be
stressful, so he mumbles softly, “Then let me guide you.” And though Jimin is supposed to be
doing this part on his own, Jeongguk reaches across the space between him and lightly encircles
Jimin’s wrist with his hand.

He guides Jimin’s fingers up to his forehead. “Ask me,” Jeongguk whispers.

Jimin gives him a nod. And then, with more confidence than Jeongguk can tell he feels, Jimin asks,
“What do you carry here?”

“Remembrance,” Jeongguk replies solemnly, and then he launches into the first part of his vows.
“I bring you all the memories we’ve shared together. All of the fights, the battles, and the times we
spent wrapped up in each other. All of the times you listened to my sub-par poetry.”

Jimin cracks the smallest of smiles as Jeongguk finishes, “I offer these to you.”

Swiftly, and with his heart lurching in his chest, Jeongguk draws Jimin’s soft fingertips down the
long column of his throat. In the firelight, he can see the goosebumps rising on Jimin’s forearms.
When Jimin asks, “What do you carry here?” his voice is strained.

“Patience, because the gods know that we both need it in spades,” Jeongguk mutters with just a
touch of sass.

“Typical,” he thinks he hears Jimin mumble.

Jeongguk settles his feathers, altogether too pleased with himself as he notes the shudder that
wracks through Jimin’s smaller frame once Jeongguk grabs Jimin’s other hand and brings both of
them sweeping across his collarbones, down his strong shoulders.

“A-And here?” Jimin stutters.

Jeongguk stares, trying to contain the urge to tug Jimin into his arms prematurely. “Luck, and
health. Gods know that I’ve used more than my fair share of luck when I stumbled across you,
love,” Jeongguk says with a grin, “But here’s to hoping that it never runs out.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind the gesture. He carefully extricates his wrists from
Jeongguk’s hold, flattens his palms to Jeongguk’s chest, and pulls his hands through the pigment
swirling on Jeongguk’s abdomen until the heels of his hands rest on Jeongguk’s navel. Jeongguk’s
breathing hitches; his entire body pulls taut and burns like he’s been shot through with liquid
lightning.

“What do you have for me here, Jeongguk?” Jimin asks, but it comes out gravelly.

Jeongguk feels like he’s vibrating, but he somehow finds it within him to string together a proper
sentence. “Joy. Now that I’m with you, I seem to have more of it than I know what to do with. It’s
everywhere, and in everything you do-- every time you look at me, or call my name, or yell at me, I
feel it. So bright it burns.”
Under the light of the stars, tears spring into Jimin’s eyes.

Don’t cry, darling, Jeongguk wants to soothe, but the words get caught up in the lump of emotion
that stirs in his own throat at the sight.

Jimin powers through the feeling like a champion. He pulls his hands back up the ridges of
Jeongguk’s abdomen until his palms are pressed square over his heart. Jimin closes his eyes for a
minute like he’s really listening , and asks, “...and what do you have for me here?”

“Love,” Jeongguk breathes, and he’s fairly certain that he hears someone in the background sob.

It’s probably Taehyung.

“Here, I bring you my love,” Jeongguk chokes out. “I offer it to you with every fibre of my being. I
give it to you with all I have, and don’t ask for anything in return.”

A tear streaks down Jimin’s cheek, and Jeongguk can’t keep himself from bringing a hand up to
brush it away.

Jimin sniffs loudly, “I love you, too.”

“You’re not supposed to say that yet,” Jeongguk huffs out a laugh.

Something like defiance glints in Jimin’s eyes. “I don’t give a shit. I love you,” he repeats firmly,
and a few Fae in the audience titter in amusement.

“Yah, behave,” Yoongi chastises, though he does it through a gummy smile of his own. He
gestures towards Jimin, prompts, “Did you prepare anything, Jimin?”

Jeongguk is about to interject that, per tradition, Jimin doesn’t have to offer him anything. But, as
usual, Jimin beats him to the punch. Jimin opens his mouth and says, “I did.”

“You did?” Jeongguk practically buzzes, stomach swooping in delight.

“I did,” Jimin affirms with a shit-eating grin, and shushes, “Now be quiet and accept it.”

Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing inappropriately. He makes a
‘go on, then’ gesture with his hands.

With a quick intake of breath, Jimin closes his eyes. He recites:

‘there is nothing great in love.

no worthy wars fought in its name,

no glory in defeated battlefields,

no titles claimed in the ruins,

just this.

skin on skin,

silent defiance.
briefly,

it could be enough.’

Jeongguk’s heart stops beating. He recognizes those words. He wrote those words.

Jimin opens his eyes again. “This was the first poem of yours that I ever read,” Jimin says, “And,
to be honest, it wasn’t a bad first draft. Though I never quite knew what ‘defeated battlefields’
meant.”

The audience laughs as Jeongguk tilts his head back, groaning in faux-embarrassment.

“Anyway. It wasn’t all that bad. But, Jeon Jeongguk, you were absolutely wrong,” Jimin asserts.
He catches Jeongguk’s surprised stare, and elaborates, “You were wrong about love. There is
something great in it. You just didn’t know it yet; I just didn’t know it yet.”

Ah, yes, Jeongguk thinks to himself, There’s no way I survive this ceremony.

“Before you, I was different,” Jimin continues, voice softening around the edges the longer he
speaks. “You know some of it. You know about the camps I moved through, you know about the
nights I spent on my own, or all the ways I hated everything that I did as a Brownie.”

Jeongguk wants to scoff, because that’s one hell of an understatement, but he stays silent as Jimin
keeps going.

Jimin sucks in a breath, steadying himself. “But I don’t think you know this: I never really counted
on surviving this long.”

The crowd of Fae surrounding them drops into a stunned silence. Jeongguk feels similarly.
Something cold and hard sinks into his stomach at the admission, at the implication behind Jimin’s
words. Still, he gives Jimin the space to breathe, to talk, to explain if he wants to.

And Jimin adds, “In the back of my head, I was always counting my days. How long until I was
done working at my current job posting, how much more time I had before the Bureau discovered
my fire magic. How many more hours I could spend alive before the Bureau decided I was better
off dead.”

“Jimin-” Jeongguk tries to interrupt, a little misty-eyed.

Shaking his head in a silent request for silence, Jimin clears his throat. “I was always counting.
Always anticipating the worst, expecting nothing. And then-” Jimin’s voice breaks, and he’s
forced to take a breath before he can carry on. “And then I met you , Jeon Jeongguk, and it’s like I
knew. Even though I denied it, I knew that you’d be the one person that I never had to count my
days with. I had the feeling that you’d stay with me for a lifetime.”

“I think that something in me was already aware of it,” Jimin all but whispers above the quiet sobs
of Taehyung, or Namjoon, or whoever it is that’s crying softly. “But it’s you, Jeongguk. It had to
be. You and I. We’re made for each other.”

“Yoongi,” Jeongguk sniffs, only now becoming aware of the fact that it was himself that was
crying all along.

Yoongi hums, seemingly too choked up to form words.

“Hurry the hell up and let me kiss him.”

Through the mess of tears that threaten to fall, Jimin tilts back his head and laughs high and light.
The sound of it lances through Jeongguk’s heart, and he’s sure that if he doesn’t have the
opportunity to kiss Jimin senseless in the next five minutes he will be hurting someone.

“Alright,” Yoongi chuckles, gesturing for Taehyung and Yeona to bring the rings.

They approach, hand the rings to their respective owners. Before she leaves, Yeona squeezes
Jeongguk’s shoulder comfortingly. He offers his silent gratitude, still a little shell-shocked from
everything that’s already happened.

“Just the rings, then,” Yoongi begins.

“Gods, hurry the hell up ,” Jimin urges.

Jeongguk snickers, though he’s more than a little delighted to know that Jimin is just as excited for
this to happen as he is.

“Shut up,” Yoongi barks before he can stop himself. He huffs, gestures vaguely, and instructs.
“You go first then, you impatient gremlin.”

“I’ll remember this when I have to officiate at your wedding,” Jimin hisses. Yoongi looks
appropriately cowed and altogether too embarrassed.

Jimin doesn’t waste any time. In one smooth movement, he takes Jeongguk’s left hand, grabs the
gold, sun-and-flame-patterned wedding band and slides it onto Jeongguk’s ring finger.

“Now you go,” Jimin rushes.

“Gods, darling, let me savor this,” Jeongguk huffs in fake annoyance. He lifts the silver and
diamond ring that Jimin stole earlier and waves it in front of Jimin’s face tauntingly.

Jimin looks less than amused. He comments, “The sooner you put that on my finger, the sooner
we’re husbands.”

Jeongguk almost drops the ring with how quickly he fumbles to put it on Jimin’s finger.

And then it’s sitting there, right on Jimin’s ring finger, glinting beautifully under the moonlight.

This is it-- this is it.

Jeongguk turns to Yoongi, waiting for him to say the words.

He waits, and waits, and waits.

And then, with one proud exhale, Yoongi declares in the Old Language, “ Tha e deiseil.”

It is finished.
Jimin leaps forward; Jeongguk catches him around the waist. He tilts his head down, meets Jimin
halfway, and goes in for a kiss.

Before their lips can meet, someone shrieks, loud and bloodcurdling.

Jeongguk whips his head around and sees Jimin do the same in his peripheral vision. They spot the
cause of the disturbance at the exact same time.

There, standing at the edge of the ceremony, is one lone fountain.

It has a serpentine tail. It’s got a trident. It’s got that look that says, ‘I have come to do battle with
you, Park Jimin’ on its face.

“Oh, my gods,” Jimin seethes. “It’s you . Can’t you just let me have one nice thing?! ”

Jeongguk knows about Jimin’s arch-nemesis. He’s heard the war stories. He’s experienced the
bloodshed. And nothing, nothing, is going to stop him from making sure that Jimin has the perfect
wedding day.

So when the Siren fountain points its trident and shoots a stream of frigid water straight for Jimin’s
perfect face, Jeongguk whips out a wing to intercept it. The water sluices down his feathers, useless
and cold.

“That’s it,” Jeongguk grits out, “That’s the last time you shoot your load at my husband without my
consent.”

“Kill it!” Jimin shouts from behind Jeongguk’s wing.

“Goodbye, Clarence,” Jeongguk says to his fountain, and then clicks his fingers. All at once, the
fountain bursts into a thousand little pieces of marble and granite, crumbling to the floor.

Taehyung and the Kimms whoop in the background. Jimin howls in laughter.

In the next breath, he turns back towards Jimin. “Where were we?” he asks, smooth as hell.

“I love you so much, you massive idiot,” Jimin cackles, tears in his eyes as he finally, finally brings
Jeongguk’s face down into a kiss.

And Jeongguk-- Jeongguk’s blood sings as he kisses his husband for the first time.

Around them, all of the assembled Fae clap and cheer and hoot as the candles puff out and the orbs
of light flicker on one by one.

Jeongguk keeps his eyes closed for all of it. His universe hones in on Jimin in that one, glorious
second that they share their first kiss as husbands.

He presses his lips to Jimin’s with everything that he has, and Jimin gives as good as he gets.
Jeongguk is lighter than fucking air , and he wants it to stay that way, but Jimin pulls back much
too soon for his liking.

“Jeongguk?” Jimin whispers, pressing their foreheads together.

Keeping his eyes closed in euphoria, Jeongguk hums, “Yes, my love?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then:

“...why the fuck would you name that fountain Clarence?”

Jeongguk tilts his head back, and when he laughs loud enough to shake the heavens, the earth
laughs right along with him.

Jimin isn’t a giggler. He doesn’t laugh coyly behind his hand, or titter away every time he receives
a compliment like some nobly-bred high-class Fae. No, Park Jimin much prefers the timbre of
rakish laughs and lilted snickers. But as Jeongguk hefts Jimin higher in his hold, kissing the soft
skin behind his ear over and over and over again, Jimin giggles for probably the first time in his
life.

“ Stop,” Jimin wheezes. His eyes are full of tears, but they’re the good kind.

Jeongguk just pulls Jimin closer with the arm wrapped around his back, tucking him deeper into
the bridal carry. “Oh, sorry, husband,” Jeongguk teases again, “I’ll do better next time, husband .”
He moves his lips upwards to trace along the curve of Jimin’s ear, and the sensation has Jimin
shivering uselessly in Jeongguk’s hold.

Though the dark of the night that surrounds them is cold enough to raise goosebumps on Jimin’s
bare arms, he still feels like he’s engulfed from head to toe in indescribable warmth. “I mean it,
Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk tuts. “Is my handsome, glorious husband mad at me?”

“Oh, my gods,” Jimin groans, covering his face with his hands, “Stop! You’re going to get tired of
it if you keep that up.”

With an offended scoff, Jeongguk harrumphs petulantly, “Darling, I’ll never get tired of it.”

Jimin rolls his eyes so hard that it almost hurts. “You’re-”

“Insufferable,” Jeongguk finishes seamlessly. “Yes, I’ve been told. Many times over. Never seems
to sink in though, does it?”

The sheer delight that Jimin feels creep into his bloodstream at Jeongguk’s quick wit is almost
annoying. “At least put me down long enough for you to open the door,” Jimin grumbles to hide
his embarrassment at being called out.
“Absolutely not,” Jeongguk says decisively. He walks them down the dirt road path that’s tucked
amongst the towering trees leading towards Jimin’s cabin.

It’d been Taehyung’s idea for the two of them to stay the night at Jimin’s private cottage, because,
as Taehyung said, ‘No one wants to hear you fucking for hours on end.’ Jimin was offended at the
time, asserting that they should be so lucky as to hear him shouting in bliss, but now he’s honestly
glad that Taehyung all but forced them into solitude.

Jimin can’t imagine having to return to Somnus right now, to share their first night together as a
wedded couple having to worry about how loud they were being. Still, he’ll never tell Taehyung
that. Pride and all.

“I’m not letting you out of my arms for the entire night,” Jeongguk says proudly, even though he
fumbles one-handedly with the key to Jimin’s cabin.

“All night, huh?” Jimin mocks lightly. “You’re awfully confident about your stamina.” It’s a bluff.
They both know about Jeongguk’s legendary stamina, but Jimin wants to rile Jeongguk up. Just for
the hell of it; just because he loves to see that edge of want in Jeongguk’s stare that always leads to
their best escapades.

Sure enough, Jeongguk’s eyes flash with something dangerous. His wings puff out, wide and
posturing as he unlocks the door. “It’s our first night together as married Fae. If you honestly don’t
think that I’m not planning on spending it worshipping every single inch of you, you’re absolutely
insane.”

Jimin has to clear his throat as desire scuttles down his spine, pools in his stomach. “Yeah?” he
croaks.

“Yes.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Jimin breaks. He licks his lips and watches how Jeongguk
traces the movement with his eyes, his quest to open the cottage door momentarily forgotten.
“Where would you start?” Jimin asks, voice pitched low and sultry.

Jeongguk doesn’t take the bait. “You’re that eager, huh?” he hums confidently, but Jimin notices
the way Jeongguk’s wings stiffen with excitement.

It does funny things to Jimin’s stomach to know that he affects Jeongguk just as much as Jeongguk
affects him. “Yeah,” Jimin answers, uncharacteristically serious. “I missed you, Jeongguk.”

The look of incredulity that Jeongguk sends his way-- wide, bewildered eyes and mouth dropped
towards the ground-- is so intense that Jimin feels color rushing up to his cheeks. He moves
swiftly, burying his head in the crook of Jeongguk’s shoulder to cover his face.

“Shut up,” Jimin warns preemptively, but Jeongguk is having none of it.

“We’ve literally only been apart for a day!”

“Hey!” Jimin protests, pulling back just enough to feel as the cool night air slides its fingers across
his forehead. “You’re the one who looked like you were dying yesterday morning when I told you
I wanted to sleep apart! You’re just as desperate. Don’t you dare lie to me.”

A light, barely-there mauve dusts across Jeongguk’s cheekbones. He pokes his tongue into his
cheek, focuses his attention on kicking the door to Jimin’s cottage open. “I’m not-” he starts to
deflect, and then breathes, “Oh, wow.”
Jimin turns to follow Jeongguk’s gaze, curious as to what’s captured his attention. He peers into
his cottage, and his heart skips a beat.

All of the furniture has been cleared out of the room. The only thing left, sitting smack in the center
of the room, is a bed. But it’s not Jimin’s bed-- it’s one that he hasn’t seen before. This one is wide,
wide enough to roll over thrice before reaching the other end, and plush. It’s swathed in soft, silky
looking golden sheets.

From the ceiling drape more silky, somewhat sheer panels of the golden fabric. They connect on
the ceiling overtop the center of the large bed, swooping down and out to fall in loose waves
around the bed.

The fire isn’t lit, but there are handfuls of candles distributed about the room. It’s probably a fire
hazard, but Jimin doesn’t give a shit. Their light casts the room in a haze of red-gold light, just
enough to see by.

“Oh.” Jimin echoes with a gasp. “ Wow.”

Jeongguk’s swallow is audible. “Did you do this?” he asks as he walks them into the room, kicking
the door shut behind them.

“N-No.” Jimin doesn’t mean to stammer, but it feels like all the air has been kicked out of his
lungs. “It must’ve been the others.”

Jeongguk lets out a long, appreciative whistle. “I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone other than you so
badly in my life ,” he muses, thoroughly ruining the moment.

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that,” Jimin grumbles.

The pout pulls a laugh from Jeongguk’s lungs. “Oh, come now, love,” he snorts, “You know that I
only have eyes for you.”

Jimin knows, because Jeongguk honestly shows it in everything he does. Still, Jimin isn’t willing to
give in so easily, not even tonight. “Is that so?” Jimin mutters, doing his best to sound skeptical.
When Jeongguk nods assuredly, Jimin leans closer, brings his lips to trail down the line of
Jeongguk’s jaw tantalizingly slow, and whispers as seductively as he can manage, “Then show
me.”

In the seconds immediately following his words, Jimin is expecting to be tossed carelessly onto the
bed. He’s expecting Jeongguk to let out that semi-feral growl that he does whenever he’s so
aroused that he can’t think straight. Jimin is counting on the fact that Jeongguk will prowl above
him, tug his clothes off, kiss Jimin so hard that his head spins.

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, Jeongguk nods again, presses a kiss to the top of Jimin’s head, and walks them over to the
bed. And then, as gently as possible, he places Jimin down on top of the silk sheets.

Jimin’s about to make a confused noise, but then Jeongguk is kneeling down in front of him.
Jimin’s words die in his throat as Jeongguk grabs his thighs, spreads his legs apart, and looks up at
Jimin from hooded eyes.

“As you wish,” Jeongguk hums, low and deep in his throat. He starts slowly; Jeongguk brings his
hands down Jimin’s thighs, runs them down his calves, pushes them back up along the inside of
Jimin’s legs.
The feeling makes Jimin shudder. “W-What’re you doing?” Jimin exhales the question shakily.

“Giving you what you deserve,” he answers simply, “Showing you how much I love you.”
Jeongguk tilts his head to the side to press a chaste kiss to the sensitive bit of skin on one of Jimin’s
inner thighs. Anticipation runs its way up Jimin’s entire body.

And Jimin wants this-- he loves the feeling of Jeongguk’s deliberate fingers tracing their way along
his curves, the way Jeongguk noses higher and higher-- but seeing Jeongguk like this sends a
different sort of want coursing through Jimin.

Before Jeongguk has the chance to kiss his way any higher up, Jimin shoots a hand out. He snakes
it through Jeongguk’s sandy hair, tugs lightly. “Jeongguk,” Jimin says with an exhale, “Jeongguk,
wait .”

Jeongguk lifts his head up to look at Jimin. The sight of him, head positioned between Jimin’s
thighs, is almost enough to send Jimin tipping back into a mess of arousal, but he resists. “Just-
come up here,” Jimin instructs quietly.

He drops his hands from Jeongguk’s hair, brings them down to cup Jeongguk’s face in his palms.
Jimin only has to guide Jeongguk for a few seconds before he seems to understand what Jimin
wants.

Jeongguk surges upwards to kiss Jimin. He kisses him softly, sucking lightly on Jimin’s bottom lip
until Jimin is pretty sure that he’s bound to turn into a pile of mush at any moment. But there’s still
that aching pit of desire in Jimin’s lower belly, so Jimin guides Jeongguk onto the bed.

*****

He doesn’t break their kiss as he maneuvers Jeongguk onto his back, head resting on the plush
pillows. Jimin lets out an inadvertent gasp when Jeongguk takes advantage of his new position,
yanking Jimin on top of him with one easy tug of Jimin’s hips.

Jeongguk jumps on the small gasp. He licks his way into Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin lets out a
humiliating sound at the feeling of Jeongguk’s tongue sliding lazily over his own. A familiar haze
settles over Jimin’s brain, but he pushes past it.

Jimin pulls away, ignoring Jeongguk’s frustrated groan. “Is this okay?” Jimin asks, unable to keep
his voice level after the thoroughness of Jeongguk’s kiss, “Do your wings hurt?”

“I’m fine, love,” Jeongguk reassures. His fingertips dig into the flesh of Jimin’s hips, a clear
warning that he wants Jimin’s mouth back on his own, but Jimin doesn’t comply. “What’re you
doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyes widening slowly as he watches Jimin rise to his knees.

Jimin doesn’t answer. Instead, he presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to Jeongguk’s collarbone, to
his chest, abdomen, navel, mindful of the gold and white pigment that still stains his body. The
strained grunts that Jeongguk lets out send a lick of heat racing through Jimin’s body, but he
doesn’t stop.

As he works his way down Jeongguk’s sculpted midsection, Jimin sighs, “You’re so handsome.
It’s honestly unfair.”

The way that Jeongguk all but groans at the praise makes the corners of Jimin’s lips tick up. He
tucks that tidbit of information away for later, continues his ministrations all the way until he
reaches the hem of Jeongguk’s trousers.
In a voice that sounds more like a hiss, Jeongguk grits out, “ Jimin , what’re you-”

But then Jimin is sinking down even lower. Through the thin fabric of Jeongguk’s trousers, Jimin
mouths at Jeongguk’s rapidly-hardening length.

“ Fuck,” Jeongguk curses immediately, head tossed back as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Jimin, you
can’t just-”

Jimin pulls his mouth away from where he’d been pressing kisses to Jeongguk through his pants.
“Do you not want it?” Jimin asks, voice dripping with honey.

“Jimin. Look at me,” Jeongguk huffs. He gestures down at his lower half without opening his eyes,
“Does it look like I don’t want it?”

The fact that Jeongguk can’t even look at Jimin right now for fear of coming undone makes
satisfaction curl in Jimin’s stomach. “Then let me work,” Jimin whispers as he lowers himself back
down, “Let me take care of you.”

Jeongguk sucks in an audible breath through his teeth. He opens his mouth like he’s going to try
and say something, but then Jimin is sliding his trousers and underthings down in one smooth
sweep.

“You’ll kill me one day,” Jeongguk groans, but Jimin doesn’t pay his words any attention.

He’s a bit too preoccupied looking at Jeongguk’s cock. It doesn’t matter how many times Jimin
has seen it, or felt it moving inside of him-- the sight always manages to make his mouth water.

And Jimin doesn’t want to waste another second just staring at it. Bracing his forearms on either
side of Jeongguk’s hips, Jimin dips down. He presses a kiss to the tip, enjoys the choked sound
that Jimin makes, and moves to ghost his lips down the vein on the underside of Jeongguk’s cock.
Jimin flattens his tongue, laves it all the way back up to the top, and then sinks his head down.

At the first feeling of Jimin’s lips wrapped around him, Jeongguk’s wings flick out powerfully,
creating a gust of wind that’s strong enough to snuff out a few of the closest candles. Jeongguk’s
back arches off the bed, and when he speaks it sounds like someone’s punched him in the stomach.
“ Jimin.”

Jimin just hums in reply, already getting lost in the fog that settles over his senses as he bobs up
and down on Jeongguk. It’s been a while since he’s done this-- Jimin never liked being on his
knees for anyone-- and Jimin can’t help but marvel at the fact that he still has the skill to take all of
Jeongguk into his mouth, down his throat.

Jimin hollows his cheeks out, sucks a bit, and Jeongguk visibly shudders. The words fall from his
lips like a prayer, “Jimin Jimin Jimin,” as Jimin flattens his tongue and strokes it back up the
underside before he lets Jeongguk slide out of his mouth all the way.

“Good?” Jimin rasps. Something curls hot in his stomach with the way a string of saliva connects
his lips to Jeongguk’s reddened cock.

“Fuck, yes.”

Above him, Jeongguk looks completely gone . His eyes are glassy and unfocused, and his chest
rises and falls rapidly. From this angle, Jimin can see the firelight skipping across the lines of
Jeongguk’s taut stomach. Jimin gets the sudden intense urge to run his tongue back up, to taste and
feel Jeongguk all over again.
Jeongguk, as usual, has other plans. “But if you want me inside of you sometime tonight, you need
to cut it out.”

It’s clear that Jeongguk means it to come out all growly and authoritative, but there’s just the tiniest
waver in his voice that Jimin can’t help it. He rolls off to the side of Jeongguk’s lower body and
lands with a ‘whump!’ on his side.

Facing Jeongguk’s hip, Jimin laughs brightly. “Sure thing, pigeon,” he teases.

Jeongguk lets out a groan that’s very possibly a mix of sexual frustration and general irritation.
“Please don’t call me that during sex,” he complains, propping himself up on his elbows to look
over at Jimin, “And don’t laugh when you’re so close to my cock. Both are rude as hell.”

Poking his tongue into his cheek suggestively, Jimin asks lightly, “And what should I call you,
hmm?”

He’s not expected for the serious look that crosses Jeongguk’s face. “Husband,” Jeongguk suggests
without missing a beat.

Jimin’s mouth goes dry. He can feel heat rising in his cheek; excitement lurches through his blood,
carries into his ribcage until his heart is practically pounding its way out of his chest. And through
the tightness in his chest, all Jimin can manage to get out is a very small, nearly inaudible, “ Oh.”

Something in the atmosphere shifts.

The semi-embarrassed, easy smile that’d been hovering around Jeongguk’s face slips away
entirely. Something darker, more intense, rises in its place. Jeongguk sits up slowly. His eyes never
stray from Jimin’s stare as he demands, “Say it.”

Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat. He twitches in his trousers at the predatory look in Jeongguk’s
eyes. Still, he whispers:

“H-Husband. My husband .”

Jeongguk utters a string of curses under his breath. His wings flick out powerfully behind him as he
crawls towards Jimin on all fours. The candlelight catches on the planes of his stomach, the cut of
his jaw, and the glinting gold of his wings until Jimin feels like he’s being lit on fire from within.

“Again.” It’s not a request.

Swallowing hard, eyes wide as he watches Jeongguk stalk closer and closer , Jimin rasps, “My
husband.” He’s practically trembling with anticipation by the time Jeongguk’s face is inches from
his own.

Jimin has to bite his lip to keep from letting out an embarrassing whine as Jeongguk leans in close.
His breath fans out over the skin of Jimin’s neck as he whispers, “That’s right.”

And then there are hands under Jimin’s knees, and Jeongguk is hefting him up and tossing him
higher onto the bed so easily that Jimin loses his ability to breathe for a second. His head hits the
silken pillows. The fabric panels billow around his head, swathing him in a sea of rich gold. If
Jimin were looking, he’d find it beautiful, but as it is, the only thing that Jimin can see is Jeongguk
crawling back up his body, cock hanging heavily between his legs.

When Jeongguk looks up under his eyelashes at him, Jimin actually whines. It’s high and loud ,
and it sends something like desire shooting straight through Jeongguk’s stare.
“Take your tunic off,” Jeongguk hisses.

Jimin rushes to comply. There’s this pressing need under his skin, like nothing he’s ever felt
before. It’s different from what he’d been feeling a few minutes ago, and is much more intense
than any other time he’s been with Jeongguk. Maybe it’s the excitement of the day, or maybe it’s
how Jeongguk is looking at him like Jimin holds the universe in his hands.

Either way, Jimin’s fingers clumsily maneuver the tunic up and over his head. It hangs limply
around his waist, still connected to the hem of his trousers. Jeongguk growls, apparently
unsatisfied, and sweeps the rest of Jimin’s wedding clothes off his legs in one smooth movement.

Jimin can’t help the way his hips cant up of their own volition. “ Jeongguk-” he practically pleads.

“I’m right here,” Jeongguk reassures, voice low and intense. His palms drag up Jimin’s calves, up
to his thighs, and eventually come to a halt on Jimin’s waist. The whole time, Jimin feels the cool
glide of Jeongguk’s wedding band, a startling reminder of what tonight means.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin repeats like it’s an incantation, “Jeongguk, please.”

Jeongguk hums, gaze softening as he drinks in the image of Jimin laid bare in front of him,
glowing and naked in the warmth of the candlelight. “I’m right here,” Jeongguk repeats. “I’ve got
you, darling.”

The second Jeongguk’s hands shift to part Jimin’s thighs, Jimin loses the ability to understand
space and time. Everything rushes by in a blur of feeling. It’s like a fog descends over Jimin until
all he can feel are Jeongguk’s fingers spreading him open, Jeongguk’s lips pressing kisses to his
inner thighs as he’s stretched, Jeongguk hitting just the right spot inside of him, Jeongguk
Jeongguk Jeong guk-

Jimin doesn’t realize that he’s been sobbing out the name until Jeongguk is silencing him with an
open-mouthed kiss. His tongue drags over Jimin’s, grazes the roof of his mouth in a way that
makes Jimin shiver.

All at once, Jeongguk is relinquishing his grip on Jimin’s hips, to guide himself to Jimin’s
entrance. Jimin has all of one heartbeat to take a breath before Jeongguk is pushing into him all the
way, slicked up from that spell of his, bottoming out in seconds.

No matter how many times Jimin has felt Jeongguk like this, the feeling still manages to leave him
gasping. Jimin trembles, mouth opening and closing uselessly. He feels boneless, reduced to
nothing but a pile at Jeongguk’s touch.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk groans out. He’s suspended on his forearms, hovering over Jimin for all of ten
seconds before he leans back, grips Jimin by the waist, and repositions.

Jimin lets himself be pulled, thoroughly lost in the feeling of Jeongguk buried so deep inside of
him. He’s sitting upright in Jeongguk’s lap, leaning back onto Jeongguk’s knees for support as he
twitches uselessly around Jeongguk’s cock. The fog around Jimin thickens, and he already feels so
good that it’s impossible to imagine that Jeongguk can improve on the feeling.

When Jimin doesn’t immediately respond, Jeongguk tries again, a little more urgency laced
through his words. “Jimin. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Jimin blinks, refocusing on the way Jeongguk’s golden eyes swim with the beginnings
of concern. “Are you with me?” Jeongguk asks.
“Y-Yeah,” Jimin somehow mutters. “It just-” Jimin rolls his hips experimentally and nearly has
himself seeing stars as Jeongguk drags just right inside of him. “ A-Ah!”

“Oh,” Jeongguk half-smiles as he realizes what’s going on. “That good, huh?”

Jimin doesn’t even have the willpower to bark something back. He makes a mental note to
absolutely kick the shit out of Jeongguk later for the smug look he’s wearing on his face, but, for
now, Jimin can’t do anything but lie against Jeongguk’s knees and take what he’s given.

And Jeongguk seems determined to give him a lot .

“I love you,” Jeongguk murmurs against his skin as he fucks up into Jimin, slow and steady.

“I love you,” Jeongguk promises later, watching Jimin gasp beneath him as he bends Jimin in half,
each thrust pushing him higher up the mattress.

“I love you,” Jeongguk pants as he grinds into Jimin, chasing his climax moments after Jimin
screams out his own loud enough for the surrounding woods to tremor.

*****

And then later, Jeongguk whispers little nothings into Jimin’s skin as they come down. Just
‘You’re perfect’ and ‘Look at you, darling’ and ‘I can’t take my eyes off of you.’

It takes a while before Jimin starts to feel like he’s fully himself again.

He opens his eyes slowly, humming contentedly as he realizes that Jeongguk is lying on his
stomach, tugging Jimin to his side with one strong arm. The wing that Jeongguk has draped over
Jimin shuffles as Jeongguk feels Jimin stir.

“Jimin?” Jeongguk asks, “Are you with me?”

“Y-” Jimin tries to say. His throat is raspy from the force of his screams. He has to pause, clear his
throat, and try again. “Yes.”

Jeongguk lets out an appreciative sound. “You had me worried for a second there.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, though he lets himself sink further into the warmth that Jeongguk seems to
radiate from his very being. “It’s your own fault,” Jimin complains, sore and bruised and aching all
over. “I hate you.”

“I’m well aware,” Jeongguk sasses back. He readjusts, turns his head until he’s facing Jimin head-
on. “I think I may have broken you.”

“It takes more than that to break me,” Jimin huffs confidently, but all it takes is him shifting his
hips a little to feel the sting between his legs. Inadvertently, he winces.

Jeongguk snorts. “Right. Sure looks that way,” he teases, leaning down to steal a swift kiss before
Jimin can pout.

“I was planning on brutally murdering you, but I will also accept one full-body massage.”
A laugh bubbles out of Jeongguk’s chest. It sends Jimin’s heart into that jump-shake-tremble
combo that always leaves him feeling lighter than air, but it’s nothing compared to the soft kiss that
Jeongguk plants on his lips a moment later.

It could be the exhaustion, or the fact that he’s just been fucked within an inch of his life, but Jimin
honestly thinks that he sees his future laid out before him as Jeongguk’s lips meet his.

Jimin can see them waking up everyday together, each day in a different place as they explore the
world together.

He can picture him with Jeongguk, flying their way through the sky at all hours of the day, looping
and diving and swirling around merrily.

Jimin envisions them building a house of their own together, somewhere far away from the ache of
old trauma.

And there-- far, far in the future, Jimin can even picture someone else joining their little family.

All of these memories flash in the half-second it takes for Jeongguk to pull away; all of the
moments are strung up and glowing like a row of fireflies, fleeting and beautiful.

“I’m glad that it turned out this way,” Jeongguk tells Jimin in the semi-darkness of the cabin. “You
and me.”

Jimin nods honestly. He presses closer to Jeongguk and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Me too. I’d
do it all over again, just to get here. Everything.”

“Even the pranks?

“Even the pranks,” Jimin laughs out tiredly.

Jeongguk smiles, and it lights up the room better than any flame. “Good,” he smiles. His hand,
the one with the wedding ring on it, smooths down Jimin’s back. It rests on his spine, slowly
drawing indiscernible shapes onto the exposed skin.

Ease, light and perfect, settles into Jimin’s bones. For the first time in his life, Jimin feels
completely whole, like a part of himself that he didn’t even know was empty has been filled
completely to the top.

To the steady tempo of Jeongguk’s breathing, Jimin closes his eyes. He lays there with a ring on
his finger and his body tucked under the warm plumage of Jeongguk’s wings.

And Jimin still can’t quite believe it-- he can’t wrap his head around everything. It feels like a
dream, the way his heart sings in his chest, beating out a rhythm to match Jeongguk’s.

It was you, it seems to say. It was always you.

It’ll always be you.

 And Park Jimin drifts away, his mind spirited to lands unknown as he dreams of the future laid out
at his feet.

~End~

Chapter End Notes

I cried again today! :)))

It's over-- AGAIN. I'm sad. I already miss them :')

Thank you all so much for your support while I was writing this! It's the first thing I've
published in my post-hiatus state, and you've all been so nice to me that I actually
remembered why I like to write in the first place. Thank you to everyone who left
kudos/comments/bookmarks/reached out to me on twitter/or just read this quietly and
enjoyed it!

I'll see you in a few weeks

-Ash <3

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