Loving?! Live Commentary on the Unbelievably Ruined Second Male Lead in a Wholesome Romance Novel

by hobimo

Notes:

• For RD2007.

Prompt: BTS got isekai-ed into fantasy world. Jimin roped into the typical isekai must have genre: harem, where whether its woman, man or non-binary want a piece of his ass. So now beside worrying about how to get back to their world, Jungkook had to protect Jimin virtue! (And hopefuly realize his own feeling then act on it, before Jimin got snatched by other person)

hello prompter!!! i tried my very best to do justice to this hilarious prompt but i did change it up a little bit! please enjoy <3

The dragon is like nothing Jimin has ever seen before, more like a giant snake-like beetle than any dragon from home. Its head is huge and has a horn on its forehead like a stag beetle, which blocks the vision directly in front of it. The plan was to make use of its blind spot, have Jimin stand right under its nose with his claymore, ready to kill it while Taehyung distracted it.

Somehow none of them accounted for the fact that it can still smell through those giant nostrils.

Also, it breathes fire. That wasn’t brought up either. Somehow.

“Get down!” someone yells, and Jimin doesn’t realise who until someone has pulled his arm down hard-enough to faceplant him in the turf, the back of his neck blistering from the stream of fire that goes over him.

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook swears, dragging Jimin behind a pillar. This whole dungeon quest thing is not going well. The merchant at the tavern told them there was some key jewel of prophecy down here, but the orcs did not prepare Jimin at all for the dragon’s lair. Jungkook all but slams him into the pillar and shoves him to sit on his ass, which is the first time Jimin remembers to breathe in a while, so he sucks in a breath and then coughs on all the ash coming off his clothes.

“You stay here,” Jungkook says. His hair is sweaty when he pushes it off his forehead, looking past the pillar at the dragon behind them. “Taehyung and I will do something about it.”

“I have to be the one to kill it,” Jimin wheezes, attempting to stand but Jungkook shoves him back down. He’s probably angry about last night as well, which doesn’t exactly help the tense situation.

“Okay, whatever!” Jungkook snaps, but then gulps and jumps behind the safety of the pillar, which unfortunately shoves Jimin’s face right in his crotch as another stream of flames hits the stone. The musky scent of leather hits his nose just before the air is fried. Apparently stone pillars aren’t as thermoresistant as they seem in the movies, because Jimin feels like he’s being roasted. Also his cheek is pressed right against Jungkook’s dick. Probably.

“The fire can only last ten seconds,” Jungkook gasps, stepping away as the flames cease. “You,” he glares at Jimin, pointing a gloved finger at him. "Stay here until Taehyung and I weaken it. Then you can do the main character act, I don’t care.”

“I’ve got the best sword—”

“I said stay!” Jungkook snaps. “I have to go. Taehyung!”

Jimin knocks his head back against the warm stone as soon as Jungkook disappears from his vision. The dragon’s steps are heavy enough to shake the ground beneath them, so he can tell it’s moving around. Another stream of fire hits the far wall, and Jimin sees Seokjin jump out of the way. Why is the bard here? Didn’t he agree to wait in the upper levels with Hoseok?

There’s some yelling, and Jimin hears Namjoon shout out an incantation right before the dragon squeals in pain, and Jimin finally peaks around the pillar to see what’s happening.

Namjoon has the dragon in a binding spell while Taehyung summons roots to trap its legs. Jungkook has two ropes in his hands that have been twisted around the horn on the dragon’s head, no doubt shot down from Hoseok above. Even in the darkness Jimin can see Jungkook’s biceps bulge obscenely, dark marks crawling up his skin from his hands as he fortifies himself with a strength spell.

“Jimin!” Jungkook shouts, head tipping back as he yanks down the dragon’s head with one final pull, where Jimin can finally strike and decapitate it. “Now!”

Before he came here, Jimin would balk at sprinting the distance between the pillar and the dragon, but everything has changed in the last few months. Now Jimin grasps the claymore’s hilt with both hands and rushes towards the dragon, its three pairs of eyes swivelling and struggling to look at him as it strains against Jungkook’s hold.

He runs into the wall of heat the dragon emits and then further, his arms burning as the enchantment activates until he has to cry out, and swings the sword as hard as he can to slice up through the dragon’s neck.

He hears rock fall before he sees what he’s managed. The dragon’s noises cut off and its head falls the last foot to the ground, an echoing, meaty-sounding impact that causes the cavern to shudder. Its violet blood pools in the gash his sword cleaved through the floor. Pebbles continue to tumble off the far side of the dungeon, where the impact of the swing has hit the stone through the dragon’s neck.

“Thank fuck,” Jimin breathes, the sword falling out of his limp arms. A week ago he would have collapsed after using the sword that strongly but today he only has to slowly sit down to get the weight off his weak legs, hissing when his arms move too much.

Hoseok’s cheers echo down into the room over the sound of Namjoon sighing and Taehyung rushing over to Jimin. Jungkook makes no sound nor movements, typical of him, but Jimin decidedly doesn’t look at him when Taehyung picks up one arm and begins healing him. Using the sword always burns the spell marks into his skin, but when Taehyung heals him they don’t scar for more than a few days, and the pain disappears.

“You’re getting stronger, Jiminie,” Taehyung says, moving a glowing palm over his elbow. “I knew I was right to stick with you.”

“Our plan went to shit,” Jimin reminds him, but Taehyung just smiles at him.

“Oh? Which plan? Because my plan worked really well, actually—”

“What jewel are we looking for?” Jungkook cuts Taehyung off, his steps quiet as he walks behind Jimin to Seokjin. “What did the merchant say?”

“Jimin talked to the merchant, why are you asking me?”

Taehyung releases one arm and moves onto the next, his hands cool where he threads their fingers together. Taehyung is easy to be around, has been since he joined their group back when it was just Jungkook and him, and going anywhere in the wilderness with him feels like he has nature’s blessing. If it weren’t for Taehyung, Jimin probably would have gone crazy by now. He’s also a really good kisser.

“He didn’t tell me exactly,” Jimin supplies, not bothering to wait for Jungkook to ask him. He’s been really bitchy lately and it’s getting to him. “It was like, ‘a forbidden jewel lies in the belly of the beast’ or some cryptic shit.”

“You’re sure he said belly?”

“No!” Jimin snaps. “I was six pints deep, I don’t remember any of the details except that it was here and it’s a jewel!”

“Can you stop drinking so much, it’s gonna put us all in danger at this rate!”

“Well, I think the battle went well!” Hoseok interjects, walking up behind Taehyung and smiling at Jimin. “Good swing, Jiminie.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Can we get back to the point?” Jungkook hisses. “I want to go home.”

“You made sure we killed every beast in this dungeon, Jungkook, I think we can afford to relax a bit,” Hoseok waves him off, approaching the dragon’s head. “It’s a scarab dragon, right? They usually have a jewel in their abdomen somewhere.”

“You are literally so smart,” Seokjin chimes in from the other side of the room.

Taehyung’s healing spell ends, and he brushes his hand down Jimin’s arm slowly. He’d say it was to test for pain, but Jimin knows better. Taehyung winks at him as he stands up, sticking to Hoseok’s back as they look at the decapitated dragon head.

“Are you sure he said ‘jewel’, specifically, like ‘stone’?” Namjoon asks.

“No,” Jimin admits. “I think he meant it as, like, special object.”

“Oh, good!” Namjoon says suddenly. “Because I think I found it.”

He appears from around the dragon’s snout with a tiny triangle of folded paper, not unlike how medicinal powders come packaged. He holds it out as he approaches, showing off the seal scribbled onto the front of the paper.

“Do you have to break in?” Jimin asks.

“No, this is the royal crest of Yunmeo,” Namjoon explains. Everyone approaches as Namjoon crouches down in front of him, slowly unfolding the paper. Jimin can read the majority of alphabets used here but he’s never seen anything like the text that awaits him. Seokjin gasps audibly when he sees it.

“What is that?” Jungkook asks, and Namjoon shushes him with a slap to his shin.

“It’s about the prophecy,” Namjoon whispers. “The mage who cast the curse on Gisan raised this dragon. ‘Deep in the forests of Yore, I bury the pride of Yunmeo. May Gisan’s emperor die a thousand times before fate deems the debt repaid’. Well, that’s something.”

“That sounds like . . .” Hoseok starts, glancing at whoever is standing behind Jimin. “I mean, not to get ahead of myself, but—”

“It sounds like the object of the curse,” Namjoon confirms. “He placed it in a treasure and hid it where no one would ever bother looking.”

“Is that how curses work?” Jimin scowls. His knowledge of magic is rudimentary, but this seems pretty flimsy. “What if someone found it and smashed it? The curse would have broken just like that?”

“Just like that,” Namjoon confirms solemnly. “But unlike other curses, it can’t be broken through magic. It requires destruction or change of the physical object. A high-risk, high-reward curse. And it’s worked for a thousand years.”

“But now we know where he put it,” Seokjin finishes. “Oh, this is gonna make a great song.”

But despite the cheery mood of their return trip, Jungkook’s brooding mood does not lighten. Jimin tries not to let it bother him. It’s just—it wouldn’t, normally, if last night hadn’t happened. Last night when Jimin and Jungkook came home after a stupid, shitty job of hunting down a demon masquerading as a puppy, and they met that merchant, and Jimin drank six pints of mead. Last night when Jimin was so happy to finally get the dungeon quest Jungkook had been trying to get for months that he jumped up and kissed Jungkook.

Which would be fine, because Jimin likes to kiss people and he was drunk, and Jungkook knew that. Jungkook may have been drunk as well, but that doesn’t mean anything because no matter how wasted Jungkook’s gotten in the four months since Jimin woke up on the main streets of Heogwon, he’s never even seen Jungkook be affectionate with someone. This is important because Jungkook kissed him back. Really kissed him, had him up against the wall like he was starving, but the very instant Jimin started to say a word Jungkook dropped him and disappeared until morning. So really, it should be Jimin that is angry and brooding, but no, he can’t afford to.

Can’t afford to because Jimin is the main character, and Jungkook won’t let him forget.

“What’s got you so down?” Taehyung asks, nudging his arm. The dungeon is empty now, well and truly cleaned out of monsters and orcs they had to battle. Jungkook has always been a stickler for ‘experience farming’, so he wouldn’t let them skip any of them. “Come on, the plan totally worked, you and him were pressed up like sardines, isn’t that romantic?”

“Taehyung,” Jimin says sweetly, squeezing Taehyung’s wrist as hard as he can, until Taehyung is writhing and trying to push him off. “I hate you.”

“I do so much for you,” Taehyung cries, massaging his wrist once he’s freed it, “and this is how you repay me?”

“I came to you upset, and that was your plan?”

Jungkook is at the front of their little group, Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin trailing behind him. Seokjin is playing his lute as Hoseok dances, Namjoon reading the paper again and again as he walks, unbothered. Taehyung pokes him in the side. “Jimin, look at me.”

The druid looks exceptionally evil when Jimin finally sighs and turns to him. “What?”

“Hear me out,” Taehyung starts. “He’s in the next room to us, right? What if we had super loud—”

“Taehyung!” Hoseok calls, waving him over. “Come and do that bird tune, we need it for this song.”

And who would Taehyung be, if he refused such a thing? He runs ahead to the bard and the half-elf, whistling in time to Seokjin’s playing. They’ll be doing this all night when they return to the guild, Jimin already knows. Too bad he doesn’t feel like drinking and being merry this time.

It’ll be six months, soon, that he’s been stuck here. Jimin was by no means a shut-in—well, maybe if he didn’t have to work, he would be—but he knew when he’d been fuking isekai-ed. It’s pretty hard to miss waking up in a totally different, vaguely Eurocentric city with horse alternative creatures.

When they finally ascend through the mountain labyrinth to the surface again, the sun is setting. It’s impossibly clear and golden, and Jimin has to shield his eyes from it. Jungkook is shitty after hauling the stag dragon’s horn up the entire cave, all but throwing them onto their ‘horses’. The people of this world call them a horse, but they’re literally dinosaurs. Taehyung told Jimin they domesticated dragons from ancient eras, but Jimin is pretty sure he knows what a velociraptor looks like. There are two species: hot-bloods, the two-legged raptor kind, and cold-bloods: the four-legged, cart-pulling kind. Taehyung managed to get them four hot-bloods and one cold-blood.

Hoseok and Seokjin share the cold-blood, Seokjin strumming his almost-lyre, screaming out a song until a moth flies in his mouth and he stops. Even when they don’t talk, quiet and eager to get back to the inn where they’ve paid for rooms, it doesn’t feel quiet.

It's late spring, so even when the sun goes down, the air remains hot. The insects are lively in the heat, cicadas or whatever this world’s equivalent is bleating and crying, filling the silence. There are birds too, that sound almost like home. If Jimin closes his eyes and tries to tune out the strange feeling of riding a dinosaur, he can almost imagine he’s camping. That he’ll open his eyes and see a campground, tents, mosquito nets, families grilling meat over a small fire. He hasn’t gone camping since he was a kid.

He sometimes wonders why he bothers with quest. Being dragged all over the kingdom to solve a problem that has nothing to do with him, not really. Aside from being the ‘protagonist’. They just found some clue into the curse over Gisu, one of the key reasons the kingdoms are still warring. Every time Jimin asks about it, he gets a different story about how long the curse has been intact, how Yunmeo has fallen into the Demon King’s hands, how a prophecy foretells Gisu’s king returning. He could abandon all this whenever he wants, live a life he wants. There’s no need to work himself to the bone here just to make rent anymore. No one gives a shit who he is here, the concept of failed idols and bankruptcy may as well be black magic.

Jimin stares at Jungkook’s back, sitting stupid and tall and perfect on top of his hot-blood mount, and scoffs to himself. Yeah, right. He could run as fast and far as he wants and Jungkook would find him and drag him back into it kicking and screaming. Whatever. It wouldn’t be half bad if Jungkook was a little nicer about it all, instead of being a demanding little shit all the time.

Like, Jimin isn’t a child. He’s twenty-eight and has a full-time job (well, he used to). If Jungkook is embarrassed about kissing him, it’s whatever, Jimin’s not going to be heartbroken. If he’d just fucking say that, instead of pretending it didn’t happen. But fine, whatever. If he wants to pretend, Jimin can pretend.

They finally are coming up to the inn where they’re staying, at the outskirts of a village. Another day’s ride would take them to Haegwon, the major city of Gisu, where Jimin first woke up. Everything is lit up with lanterns and candles, and Jimin counts as they pass at least four altars for the goddess Eris, of sunlight and good harvest. It’s her mid-spring holiday, and everyone will be celebrating late into the night. This is exactly what Jimin needs. Seokjin can get in and start singing, Hoseok can dance along, maybe Taehyung can coax a tree into growing a flute for him or something, and they can party. Jungkook will disappear quickly because he hates loud inns, and Namjoon will probably go straight to studying their paper. Maybe Jimin can even befriend a few townsfolk.

“Let’s go, Jiminie!” Taehyung sings, pulling Jimin off his mount and directing the lizard beast into the stable on its own. Fucking druids. “No time to waste! Everyone’s already started drinking, we have to get in there.”

“He has to ask big bad Jungkook for permission first,” Seokjin cackles, pushing past Taehyung and followed by Hoseok to run into the tavern and start doing his bard singing and dancing act. As soon as someone with an instrument steps through the door, Jimin can hear the cheer that goes up even from the outside.

Taehyung is grimacing, scrunching his nose. “Well, may as well. Jungkookie!”

“No.” Comes Jungkook’s stern voice from somewhere in the dark stable.

“For fuck’s sake, what’s the reason this time?” Jimin yells. “You’re not my dad!”

“You used the blade’s spell, you have to rest or you won’t be able to travel tomorrow.”

“I’m fine ,” Jimin snaps, embarrassingly stiffening up when Jungkook leans out of one of the stalls, glaring at him. In the dark, the rogue paints a terrifying picture, nothing but the glint of his eyes and all the metal rings through his ears and lip. “I’m getting better at controlling it! I just had to sit down!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like your parent if you knew how to take care of yourself,” Jungkook snaps, stalking towards him. Fuck. He has this really uncanny, kind of hot way of coming real close and staring down at Jimin. Jungkook is imposing, he’s huge and covered in weapons, even his aura is dark and rouge-like, but when he stands like this it could make the average man quiver in fear. It doesn’t help that he dresses like a rogue guild chewed him up and spat him out, black leather and a black linen shirt, the only pop of colour that stupid, big gold medallion that hangs in the centre of his chest, engraved with an eagle being shot through the breast by an arrow. “Do you not realise we finally unlocked the story quest?”

“That’s my cue to go!” Taehyung sings, pushing Jimin the last inch into Jungkook none too toughly. Embarrassingly, Jimin goes chin-first into Jungkook’s hard chest. It must hurt, and Jungkook glares down at him before he flinches back. “Aw, lame. See you inside, Jimin!”

As soon as he’s gone, Jimin gets even more annoyed. “Are you for real?”

“Go to bed, Jimin.”

“ Hyung ,” Jimin corrects, seething. “I can do what I want. I don’t give a shit about your bullshit tonight, Jungkook. Shouldn’t we celebrate it, if it’s such a good idea?”

“You have to maintain your strength, or we’ll be fucked,” Jungkook sighs, roughly running a hand through his hair. Jimin tries his best to stop his eyes drifting to his arm muscles and fails. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“Yeah, because you let me do so much today, didn’t you?”

“You know how much energy the sword uses—”

“ I am going to do whatever I want, Jungkook. As if one late night will affect me. That’s not what you were saying last night!”

Maybe it’s Jimin’s wistful thinking, but he thinks he can see Jungkook’s ears going red in the candlelight. “This whole thing hinges on you, Jimin. You have to take care of yourself for everyone else’s sake—”

“No, for your sake!” Jimin snaps. “Whatever. I’ll see you in the morning, Jungkook.”

“Jimin!” Jungkook yells behind him, but Jimin is determined to ignore him. Who does Jungkook even think he is? Just because they’ve been forced to stick by each other the last few months doesn’t put him in charge of Jimin—okay, maybe in combat situations, but that doesn’t apply to now! Not when Jimin is trying to indulge his alcohol habit and pretend everything is fine. Asshole.

The tavern is already rowdy when he pushes the door open, with Hoseok dancing on top of a table and Seokjin singing as he walks around. Taehyung is not playing a flute like he can, but he is screaming to Hoseok at the top of his lungs, so it’s kind of the same. Most people are singing along, raising their glasses and stumbling into each other, barmaids barely able to slip between them and snatch up empty pints.

This village is pretty poor, and on the far side of Gisu from Yunmeo, so there are no soldiers present. Instead everyone is a farmer or a labourer, their clothes and manner rough and worn, but much nicer than every royal soldier Jimin has encountered. As soon as the door closes behind him, Seokjin whirls around where he’s singing and shouts, “The Chosen one!” which sends the tavern into cheers. Jimin bows shyly, which makes them even more explosive, shoving a drink into his hands and clapping him on the back. It used to make him uncomfortable, this reaction, but sometimes when he's worked hard, he can enjoy the celebrity side of things. Like today.

When Jungkook finally shoulders the door open with the scarab dragon’s horn over his shoulder, the crowd just gets rowdier.

 Seokjin is singing a tale of last week’s job where they hunted down a horde of wolfbeasts that were terrorising the village, all of Jimin’s parts conveniently played up and Jungkook completely absent from the story (in reality, Jimin didn’t do a thing until they got to the alpha beast, twice the size of the rest with latent magic that made it a bastard to kill, and Jimin accidentally levelled the entire area with his swing. The giant wolf demon ended up chopped in half, at least. And Jimin was passed out for like three hours. That also didn’t make the song.)

Jimin has been pushed into a seat so Seokjin can lean on his back and keep singing, Hoseok dancing on top of the next table. Somehow no one is bothered by this, even when he decides to punt a wooden cup across the tavern. In fact, this even livens them up further. Jungkook has settled into his usual spot now, a brooding leathery shadow in the far corner, glaring at each of them.

“So, Park Jimin, right?” someone asks beside him, and Jiminturns. The man beside him is young, dressed modestly, clearly a farmer’s son. He has the western-Gisu accent and vibrant auburn hair more common in these parts. “Quite the hero, or so I’ve heard.”

He’s handsome. His skin is glowing, sun-kissed, and there are delicate freckles over the bridge of his nose and the high parts of his cheeks. His eyes are just hazel enough not to be considered brown, which all makes his gaze more interesting and intense. His lips are quirked in a smile, and he leans one elbow on the table to look at Jimin better. “Unless I’m mistaken?”

Well, colour Jimin amused. “Sorry, I was just admiring you,” he admits shamelessly, and the man smiles. Not coy. "Park Jimin. I am he."

"The dragon-slayer," he finishes, smiling like they’re sharing a secret, and Jimin likes it. He likes him. “And I am Shin Gunwoo, valiant son of Shin Heowon, farmer of pigs and wheat. Perhaps you haven’t heard of me.”

“Shin Gunwoo,” Jimin repeats, just to see his smile grow, pleased. Jimin can play this game. Gunwoo seems fun. Not to brag, but people are all over him in Gisu. He’s the item of some prophecy, and he has a stunning resume of accidentally rescuing political royalty, completing impossible quests, and having ‘immense cosmic impact’, according to Namjoon, which apparently magnetises people to him. People with significant magic are capable of visualising this cosmic impact or whatever it is, but it seems to work on unsuspecting humans and animals like mega good vibes or something. Whatever it is, it works in Jimin’s favour. Shin Gunwoo is the latest to pique Jimin’s curiosity. He glances across the room, back to Jungkook, who is glaring at him furiously as usual, but makes a show of scoffing, rolling eyes and eventually looking away.

Jungkook is overbearing at the best of times, watching Jimin like a hawk because he doesn’t trust Jimin will stick around unsupervised or something. The argument must have loosened him up a little, or pissed him off enough that he’s content to pretend Jimin isn’t there. The first time he caught Jimin and Taehyung kissing he fully pulled them apart and lectured Jimin for hours about he was being stupid, but whatever. It didn’t stop them anyway.

“Jimin?”

“Sorry,” Jimin says, turning back to Gunwoo. Whatever. Fuck Jungkook. Fuck Jungkook and his stupid cute mouth and his stupid soft lips and his stupid good kisses and handsome face and ridiculous hot body. Jimin is hot shit and he’s just jealous he has the maturity to act on it. “You were saying?”

In a pleasant surprise, talking to Gunwoo is genuinely easy. He seems to have learned all of Seokjin’s songs by heart, all of them having gone around the kingdom several times by now, knowing Jimin’s embellished achievements by heart, but when he notices Jimin’s reluctance to talk about them he says, “well, my life is not as exciting, but perhaps you will enjoy small tales of farm life?”

He is right. It is pretty riveting to hear the story of a pug escaping with Gunwoo’s toddler nephew on its back, riding as fast as a horse. Gunwoo is good at stories, and he makes Jimin laugh, and when they lean in for a kiss, as natural and easy as can be, he trails a warm palm down Jimin’s back, not unlike how he must gentle a startled horse.

When they break apart, Jimin glances to the corner to look for Jungkook, and finds him gone.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin excuses himself before he even registers what he’s doing. “You’re very nice, Gunwoo, and I—”

“Don’t worry about it, Jimin,” Gunwoo assures him, seeming genuine. He smiles, and Jimin really likes his smile but whatever. “Enjoy your night.”

Well, that makes him feel kind of shitty, but Jimin shrugs it off. Gunwoo seems sincere, anyway.

Jungkook is not in the corner from before, and Jimin can’t see the same dark, brooding shadow anywhere else in the room, so he heads down the service corridor that leads to the kitchens and some spare rooms.

“Why do you still wear the medallion, anyway?” someone’s voice comes through the wall, and Jimin flinches, flattening himself back, but no one comes out of the next doorway. Hesitantly he creeps forward, trying to avoid any noisy floorboards.

“I was asked to.” That’s Jungkook’s voice, that is so Jungkook’s voice, and he sounds annoyed. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t you think it’s time to forget all of that?” the other person says—a man, Jimin is pretty sure, but he’s been wrong before. “The war’s over, kid.”

“It’s not,” Jungkook sighs, sounding more exhausted than Jimin’s heard him. He even sounds vulnerable. Scared . “Until Yunmeo is reclaimed, war could break out at any second.”

“The next cycle won’t be for another twenty years.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook dismisses. “I—hyung, we might have found it. A way to break the curse.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Oh, come on, you’ve just been with that weird guy—”

“Jimin is from the same place I am,” Jungkook hisses, cutting him off. Jimin flinches as if scolded. Why is Jungkook talking about him ? Why does he feel so comfortable talking about the paper to this stranger? Jungkook never even lets them breathe a word of stuff like this, in case it puts their quest in danger. “Hyung. I think he’s the one.”

Jimin inches forward, trying to hear better as Jungkook’s voice lowers, but this time a floorboard creaks under his foot accusingly, and before he can even finish cringeing, Jungkook flies to the doorway, and sees him.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, looking absolutely livid. “What about that peasant guy—”

“Who is it?” the other voice asks, and someone shoves Jungkook out of the way so they can lean out of the doorway as well. “Well, well, well. Speak of the demon killer, and he shall appear.”

The man looks pitifully small in front of Jungkook, but everyone does. He must be about the same height as Jimin, but his stature is lanky and slim compared to him. His hair is black, feline eyes scanning over Jimin’s face, and the big cat ears poking out of the hair on the top of his head swivel towards him, focused on him.

Well. Jimin has never met a cat boy. Cat man. Whatever this guy is.

“Hello.” Jimin greets him, unable to keep the terseness out of his voice. The cat guy smiles, stepping out further. He’s dressed similarly to Jungkook, all black and leather, but he doesn’t carry a big sword, only a bunch of knives strapped to his waist and around his legs. “And you are?”

“Oh, I have always wanted to do this,” the man says, ignoring Jungkook’s annoyed hyung . “Park Jimin. You’ve heard of me, I’m sure.”

“I doubt it.”

The man’s smile widens, toothy and terrifying. “Min Yoongi.”

Jimin feels his eyes bulge. Fuck. He has heard of him. Yoongi immediately begins laughing, slumping against the wall. “Fuck! I’ve always wanted to do that! You look so stupid right now.”

“ Hyung ,” Jungkook hisses, yanking Min fucking Yoongi back by the arm. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“No? I’m right where I want to be,” Yoongi grins at Jimin, and he shudders when he sees how fucking big and sharp his canines are. “So, you’re Kookie’s chosen one .”

“Shut the fuck up already,” Jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair with frustration. “You’re so annoying.”

“Park Jimin,” Min Yoongi says, coming towards him. It takes all of Jimin’s willpower not to take a step away, his aura is so dark and intense. “The duchess saver. The demon killer. Dragon hunter now, as well. And Jungkook says you come from his imaginary world too.”

Jimin swallows, kind of annoyed now. “No, Korea is very real.” He stares at Yoongi’s freaky slitted eyes and then scolds himself for looking so pathetic, straightening up. “And actually, I don’t think I need to be teased by a catboy about it.”

“I like you,” Yoongi nods to himself, apparently done appraising Jimin. He pinches his chin in thought. “I don’t believe in the whole South Korea crap, but I guess Jungkookie here looks less insane than I thought. You know, when he was fifteen and crying about trains and computers and iPhones—”

“That’s enough,” Jungkook all but shouts, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. “Jimin-hyung. Let’s go.”

“What?” Jimin snaps, turning to Jungkook. “You’re telling me to go”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head. “We just had this argument, you want to keep going?”

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt then,” Yoongi says, leaning against the wall. “Argue away.”

“Does Min Yoongi even know?” Jimin snaps, and Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek and looks away. “That’s what I thought. That’s what today’s been, isn’t it? You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” Yoongi interrupts. “What happened?”

Ignoring him, Jimin continues. “You won’t tell anyone! Fine, whatever—but if it didn’t mean anything, fucking act like it!"

"Of course it didn’t mean anything!” Jungkook yells, groaning to himself. “We were drunk . Why are you being so—”

“Wait, what happened?”

“If it didn’t matter, why have you been so shitty all day? Every time I tried to talk to you, you’d get all pissy. We were fighting for our lives in a fucking dungeon. Are you embarrassed? Or are you embarrassed it was me ?"

"So, like, did you guys have sex?” Yoongi asks.

“No!” Jungkook shouts, so loud he seems to startle himself. “No. No, we didn’t.”

“He kissed me and bolted.”

“That’s it ?” Yoongi cries, grimacing. “I was so involved, I really thought there was more. This is so boring—oh, shut up, Jungkook. Anyway. Park Jimin.” Min Yoongi, the Hunter of the North, turns to Jimin. “Do you need another rogue in your group, by any chance?”

“Um—”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jungkook snaps, yanking on Yoongi’s arm again, but this time the cat guy yanks his arm free roughly, glaring at Jungkook with genuine irritation that makes Jungkook shrink back, scolded.

“I was talking to Jimin , brat,” Yoongi hisses, voice a little too feline for comfort. “So, Park Jimin. What do you say?”

Logically, Jimin should say no. Yoongi’s reputation precedes him, and it is downright terrifying. The things he’s done to people—all of them objectively rotten, awful people that probably deserved it—and how many stories made their way through Gisan as stories to discipline kids with, is downright chilling. Not to mention his rumoured strength, the strongest in the guild of Dark Horse. That alone is a scary sentence. Going even further, paying for rooms to house all of them is already expensive, splitting the quest money, finding enough horses, is already a lot of work. It would be a nightmare to add another person.

But, the evil Jimin that lives in the back of his head says, Yoongi is able to boss Jungkook around. Which they (read: Jimin) sorely need.

The answer is pretty simple, when he weighs up the pros and cons.

“Sure,” Jimin says. Yoongi grins again, gummy and cute but in a terrifying way that reveals how far his lower canines go up, interlocked with the upper ones. Like one of those uncanny videos of dogs pulling back their lips in a ‘smile’ that’s just a snarl.

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Min Yoongi says.

One very important detail Jimin forgot to consider when making his decision was the others’ reactions. If they were normal —apprehension, distrust, fear, anger—Jimin wouldn’t care. He’s not making them stay. But unfortunately their druid is a freak and he doesn’t let Jimin get a wink of sleep in their shared room, talking Jimin’s ear off all night about Yoongi and the felix species. Jimin made the mistake of walking back into the tavern with Yoongi and Jungkook, and Taehyung had dropped the flute he’d been playing, staring at Yoongi like he’d witnessed the second coming of Christ. Or whatever Gisu equivalent there was.

So by the time Jimin sees Yoongi the next morning, he has two hickeys (because Taehyung bit him on the neck twice when he started falling asleep so they could keep talking about Yoongi) and absolutely no patience for the cat guy’s jibes and general teasing nature. Yoongi takes one look at his neck and goes, “so you got a rebound that quick?” and Jimin barely holds back the outburst.

The only thing even worse is that Taehyung is disgustingly smitten and obsessed with him. They leave the tavern early, Seokjin fearsomely hungover and Hoseok cranky at the hour, so neither of them even acknowledge their new addition. At least Jungkook looks miserable about it. It improves Jimin’s mood a lot, to the extent that Namjoon’s chirpy morning person-ness barely bothers him.

It’s a solid day's ride to Haegwon city, and they start early. Jimin dozes on the back of his hot-blood, barely making out the two dark silhouettes of Yoongi and Jungkook riding side by side.

“Jimin?” Namjoon’s voice comes suddenly, and Jimin jerks up, immediately becoming aware he’s been drooling.

“Yes, hyung? Sorry, I—” Namjoon isn’t even looking at him, instead still looking at the paper they took from the dragon yesterday. He’s riding a cold-blood, much steadier and more comfortable to ride, so much that Namjoon has even balanced an open book on the horn of the saddle.

“Do you know about the Red River?” Namjoon asks, finally looking up at him. The mage has intensely amethyst eyes, so unnaturally purple it took Jimin a long time to be comfortable looking at him. It’s a sharp contrast to the rest of his face, with sleek black hair and pretty—as far as mages go—normal-looking face. Namjoon once told him the more times a mage uses a spell, it scars into their body. Usually it’s runes, but for certain types of magic it can change hair colour, skin pigmentation, teeth, or eye colour. Jimin can only wonder which spell has done that to his eyes, because as far as Jimin knows, purple isn’t a natural colour in this world.

“No,” Jimin says eventually, after staring into Namjoon’s eyes for way too long. “Everyone keeps mentioning it, but no one will tell me the story.”

“Huh, I thought Jungkook would have told you,” Namjoon notes, turning back to his book. “It’s going to become relevant.”

“Yeah, well. Jungkook just loves to be helpful, doesn’t he?” Jimin complains, but Namjoon never rises to the bait to complain about another member. In his previous life, Jimin totally would have gone for someone like Namjoon, quiet and mature, tall, but Namjoon appears to have noble intentions with Jimin only.

“You should ask him about it at some point,” Namjoon suggests. “He was there for it.”

“He—what?” Jimin asks. “How do you know that?”

Namjoon shifts uncomfortably now, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve said too much.”

“ Hyung .”

“The medallion!” Namjoon admits, like it pains him. “It’s the crest of a noble family—one that completely died out in the last war. The last heir perished in the battle of the Red River. That’s—I just, I assumed, you know—”

“You assumed wrong,” Jimin cuts him off, feeling edgy and uncomfortable now. “He hasn’t told me anything.”

Jungkook is tight-lipped and downright moody about everything, so Jimin isn’t surprised. Jungkook is fearsomely strong, as all members of the Dark Horse guild are, and he told Jimin he’d been stuck here for years, back when they first met, but that’s about all. What figments of Jungkook’s life here have been coaxed out by them working together the last few months is minimal at best. Nothing like this. Jimin isn’t sure he’d even want to know something substantial like this.

Namjoon doesn’t speak to him again about it. It’s probably better that way.

Camping the first night is truly nauseating. Jungkook makes Jimin train for hours. Jungkook can swing his claymore with one hand like it’s nothing, but Jimin has to put his whole body weight into it just to heft the big stupid sword around. The only reason he can somewhat keep up is the years of kendo he did as a kid, but even they are nothing compared to Jungkook’s actual terrifying strength. Seokjin and Hoseok like to live-commentate on the training sessions because it’s entertaining to see Jimin kicked on his ass constantly, but today after six mortifying losses, Yoongi calls it quits.

After a violent game of scissors-paper-rock, Taehyung ends up on watch. He makes a huge song and dance about it, complaining as he slowly pulls his clothes off, but Yoongi doesn’t turn around. Then he flies up to a tree branch as an owl and settles in for the night.

“Hey, mage scholar,” Yoongi says, just as Namjoon gets up to head to bed. “Do you really think this paper is about the curse?”

Namjoon massages his own knees as he thinks. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“But what will breaking the curse even do, then? What good is a king, at this point?”

“You should know that better than me, Min Yoongi,” Namjoon says, visibly angry, and even Jimin sits up straighter to watch him. “Gisu is powerless without a leader.”

“The kingdom depends on one person’s birthright, don’t you find that a little pathetic?” Yoongi smiles, thin and cunning. Maybe letting him join was a bad idea after all. Aren’t cats supposed to be nice and quiet, and avoid starting fights? Maybe it’s just a Min Yoongi thing. Jungkook is pretending like this whole conversation isn’t even happening.

“I suppose a felix wouldn’t understand,” Namjoon says, and although his tone is flat and unassuming Jimin has never seen him look this cruel. “You never had any allies anyway.”

“Aren’t you just like your predecessors?” Yoongi hums, tapping his chin with the tip of a knife. “So if I threw this at you, you’d kill me?”

“I—” Namjoon’s face is comically red, even in the low light. “Is that what this is about?”

“I have a dislike of mages,” Yoongi says, his tone dark. “So tell me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t kill you,” Namjoon shrieks, genuinely upset. “Jungkook throws knives at me all the time, and he’s still alive!”

“You wouldn’t like to use my organs for your potions?” Yoongi presses, grinning a little now. “Cut off my ears and make that stupid fetish potion? Make dust from my teeth to cure ailments? Make a blood oath by killing me under a full moon?”

“This is kind of hot, right?” Seokjin whispers loudly to Hoseok, eyes flicking between Yoongi and Namjoon. “You think so too, right?”

“I think the cat guy is doing it on purpose,” Hoseok whispers back, even less subtle.

“I have no intention of killing you for being a felix, Min Yoongi,” Namjoon grits out, pulling his mage robes tighter around himself. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“I’m sure there must be one or two tolerable mages out there. Goodnight, Kim Namjoon.”

Namjoon gets up angrily, marching away into his tent. For a second there’s silence, broken only by gentle owl noises that Jimin is sure is Taehyung’s attempt to stir the pot, but no one else notices it.

“Did you have to do that?” Jungkook sighs. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“I had to put him on the spot,” Yoongi shrugs. “You never know.”

“You just wanted to see him sweat,” Jungkook scoffs.

“So, like, what was the context with that?” Hoseok asks sweetly. “Has Namjoon got a dark past?”

“His teacher—the crest on his cloak—was one of the pivotal members hunting down the felix species when I was a kid,” Yoongi explains, much calmer than he had been a second ago. “We never had a king, we thought the idea was stupid, that control of a species or region could be inherited by birth. We had a council of representatives. But, there are downsides to that too.”

“Why? You’re right, kings are bullshit,” Seokjin says eagerly. Jimin feels vaguely sick. “Imagine being able to control who swathes of land and people just because the right two people had sex to make you.”

“What an astute way of putting it!” Yoongi exclaims, raising his cup of tea in a cheers motion. “Park Jimin, your group of adventurers is so wise.”

The owl hoots again.

“Please shut up,” Jungkook whispers.

“My people had it all right!” Yoongi decides. “Unfortunately, what is right is not always what will save you from being exterminated.”

“Can you stop it already?” Jungkook drops his head to his hands. “This is why you have no friends.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to tell me that,” Yoongi says, knocking their shoulders together. “We can work on it now, though, since I’m here. With that nice young man over there, the Park Jimin guy. Now, Jungkook, if you were going to make a friend, what would you do?”

“Ooh, I can help!” Hoseok shouts, as if they’re watching a live show. “I’m great at making friends!”

“You have one lifeline,” Yoongi tells Jungkook. “So? Don’t leave him waiting.”

“He’s not in on this bit,” Jungkook tries to tell him. “Jimin, tell him to stop.”

The stories depict Jimin as heroic and selfless, unfortunately he is neither of those things.

“I’m pretty curious too,” Jimin says. “How do you make a friend, Jungkook?”

“This is ridiculous,” Jungkook complains, getting to his feet and tossing his tea over the fireplace. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Aw, I wanted to see it!” Seokjin calls after him. “Jimin is really friendly, you know, really sociable, he accepts all kinds of invitations—”

“Maybe I’ll go to bed too!” Jimin squawks. “Goodnight!”

Jimin shares a tent with Taehyung, and since he’s on watch, it is mercifully quiet.

 

 

Taehyung is sleeping off his night watch as a mouse in Jimin’s pocket when they finally make it back to western Haegwon. It’s almost a relief, to see a familiar sight. Just walking into the major square, smelling the breakfast shops cooking their rice and bread and soups is almost enough to make him cry.

“We’ll meet up for dinner at the guild?” Namjoon asks, turning around on his mount to talk to them. “I’ll be in the library if you need me, just talk to the person at the front and they can call me down.”

“Good luck studying!” Jimin says. Ah. Yeah. That’s why they came. For the story quest and the curse and the jewel and something in the Yore forests. Not for the food or the bathhouse. Right. It’s like Jungkook can tell what he’s thinking too, because when Jimin finally reigns his gaze back from a lady selling steamed sweetcakes, Jungkook is glaring at him.

“Well, Hoseok and I are gonna hit the bathhouse,” Seokjin calls, already lumbering away on their big horse. “See you for dinner!”

“Maybe I will also—”

“You have to train,” Jungkook cuts him off. “Come on. Let’s go to the guild.”

The Dark Horse guild has a small base in Haegwon. Yoongi begins telling Jimin all about the true guild home somewhere buried in the ravines of the far south-west, where the grasslands begin to change to sands. Jungkook, as per usual, is moody and says nothing while he and Yoongi have a perfectly civil conversation.

When Jimin first came to Haegwon—that is, he woke up screaming and crying on the main street before he realised what had happened—a guy from the guild White Lily had tried to recruit him. Back then, Jimin had been wearing an adidas track jacket with the trefoil logo. This is important because the goddess Aqua has a symbol exactly like it, a lotus flower that becomes stylised into a trefoil. Sure, the stripes going through it weren’t usual, but the guildsman must have assumed Jimin was a foreigner who was still part of the Aqua stans.

As far as Jimin understands, the White Lily is actually more like a door-to-door guild that gets anyone and everyone to join because you have to pay the person who recruits you, who in turn gets some money from the people above him for getting a new recruit. So, a pyramid scheme. But the massive amounts of numbers seem to be churning out a lot of strong members, mainly paladins.

By contrast, Dark Horse was join by invite only, and only if you passed a test. Jimin had never officially joined the guild, but trailing behind Jeon Jungkook apparently bought him enough respect that no one questioned why he suddenly appeared in the building one day.

And today it’s Min Yoongi as well. This is going to go great.

The guild house acts as a lodging of sort, for the transient members of the guild that work as mercenaries or adventurers and the like. In the back there are rooms, and even a training ring. Jimin can still remember being woken up at the first hint of dawn to a couple of guys doing archery practice, and then from late morning onwards it was the clash of swords and yelling that kept him from going back to sleep.

The instant Yoongi steps over the threshold, a hush so sudden falls over the guild members that Jimin almost laughs. Their eyes bug out and they stare at him with a mixture of awe and fear, which is all the more hilarious because these guys are all at least the size of a van, and Yoongi is, well, tiny. With his stupid leather pants wearing ass and stupid cat ears. He doesn’t even have audible steps, so there’s none of that satisfying click-clack like a Chelsea boot as he walks. These hulking rangers are simply so attuned to the vibes of this walking genre fetish that they all drop everything to watch him.

Jimin has a little bit of second-hand embarrassment. Which is a lot for him at this point.

“Looked enough?” Yoongi snaps, and there’s a big jolt as everyone pretends they weren’t ogling Min Yoongi. Jungkook is there too but no one cares about him. “Let’s go out back. Jimin, come on.”

Many eyes snap to Jimin, some of them recognising him and a lot of them rather familiar, but he doesn’t dare meet any eyes as he shuffles behind Yoongi like a duckling.

The training ground is nothing more than a circle in the dirt, designed to keep fighters in close quarters. Not ideal when Jimin has to swing around this stupid claymore. (Really, if he’s the main character, shouldn’t he have a sword more suited to him?)  It’s almost bizarre to face Yoongi in the daylight—he looks far too bright and soft to be such a murderous asshole. His black ears look downright fluffy in the morning light, and his hair shadows those freaky amber eyes so it’s overall really tolerable to look at him.

Shit, is he becoming Taehyung?

Speaking of Taehyung—

“Wait!” Jimin shrieks, as if Yoongi has even done anything. He has to lean over to slowly wiggle the sleeping brown mouse out of his breast pocket before he hands it to Jungkook. Taehyung barely stirs as he’s handed around like a show and tell, curling up into Jungkook’s rough palms like he’s done it a hundred times. Jimin turns back to Yoongi. “Okay, now you can say what you were going to say.”

“I forgot about the druid,” Yoongi admits. Thank God Taehyung isn’t awake, he’d be heartbroken to hear that, and Jimin really doesn’t want to be the shoulder he cries on while not understanding how a felix, the ideal partner of a druid, wants nothing to do with him. Because he’s, you know, a stranger he doesn’t trust. “Show me the sword, would you?”

Jimin obediently draws the Demon-Killing blade, and Yoongi shuffles over to read the inscription. If he can. Jungkook says it’s a language he’s never seen before, probably an extinct one.

“I think it’s Elvish,” Yoongi muses. “I know this word is the one for fire. That’s it though.”

“Why did we bother doing this, then?”

“I was curious!” Yoongi exclaims. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you and this dumb sword! I wanted to know what the spell was. Looks like it’s some sort of fire thing.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Sure you could have,” Yoongi waves him off. “So the spell is like, what?”

“Um,” Jimin says smartly. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a special attack that creates a controlled slice of superheated fire that can cut through almost anything,” Jungkook supplies.

“That’s it?” Yoongi scratches the back of his head. “Pretty lame.”

“It is not!” Jimin snaps. “It’s super strong! And I pass out after, so I know it’s strong.”

“You don’t know how to control it,” Jungkook points out.

“I’m starting to!”

“You have to be healed every time you use it. Does that seem sustainable to you? You burn the skin of your arms off every time!”

“Well, it can’t happen for free, can it?”

“You haven’t had that mage have a look at it?” Yoongi interrupts. “I feel like this is exactly his area.”

“He doesn’t know elf magic,” Jimin sighs. “No one in Gisu does.”

Yoongi nods. “Well, a genocide will do that. Okay, Jungkook. You two should fight!”

Yoongi is not a good teacher. All he does is stand there in absolute silence as Jungkook continues once again to disarm him, throw him over his shoulder and into the dirt, kick his legs out from under him, kick him square in the gut to fly out of the circle, or literally wrestle the hilt of his claymore out of his hand with brute strength. After what feels like a hundred mock fights Yoongi finally says something.

“Jimin . . .  I think you are shit at fighting.”

For a moment, Jimin can only look at him.

“I think it’s more that Jungkook is really good—”

“You should be able to at least hold your own,” Yoongi interrupts. “Have you even been taught combat before?”

Jimin hunches, feeling hopeless. “I did kendo for years and taekwondo.”

“What’s that?”

“He did martial arts,” Jungkook fills in. “That explains why you’re pretty good with the sword, but kendo isn’t like real fighting. It’s messy and there’s no rules.”

“Believe me, Jungkook, I know that.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Yoongi says. “There are no rules. You don’t have to fight when someone comes at you. You can just trick them, run away from them, whatever you want. You just go return what you get.”

“I’m not sure running away is an option for me,” Jimin says cautiously. How is he meant to explain to this catboy what the main character's condition is? Not only that, but he has Jungkook to live up to as well, as much as he hates it. Running away isn’t possible. There’s some fancy prophecy he has to fulfil, and no isekai story involves the main character running away from the world’s set destiny. Even if he tried, Jimin is pretty sure the story would follow him. He’s read many stories like that. Isekai used to be a funny trope, goddammit. This sucks.

“Then you resort to other means,” Yoongi suggests. “Jungkook is a freak, he likes to fight. You don’t have to. You have insane magic, you should just use that for everything. You think Jungkook could beat you, if you put a binding spell on him?”

Silence.

“Jungkook told me using magic was cheating.”

“Shut up! I did not!”

“Yes, you did!” Jimin snaps. “You were so pissy about my mana and everything, you were like, oh well you can’t use magic for everything, that would be like cheating .”

“Shut up!” Jungkook yells, ears going bright red. “Combat is important to know! I would have died without it!”

“But I’m not you, am I?” Jimin returns, finally feeling a shred of victory when Jungkook has no retort. Yes. Finally, he’s got Jungkook speechless.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Yoongi consoles him, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder. “Oi, Reeves! Come here and let’s fight, I need to show these kids how it’s done.”

Reeves, some massive hulk of a man that wields two giant axe blades that must weigh as much as Jimin individually, walks over. Jungkook sighs heavily, muttering a small do you have to do this now? That Yoongi doesn’t react to, standing firm with his arms crossed in the circle.

“It would be an honour, Mr Min Yoongi sir,” Reeves bows, and Yoongi’s big stupid triangle ears twitch on the top of his head, smiling slightly.

“Come at me with everything you’ve got!” Yoongi says, grinning with those terrifying teeth, and Reeves straightens up and picks up his axes into a battle-ready stance.

“Here I come!” he yells, and lunges.

Yoongi doesn’t budge.

Reeves rushes at him, swinging down an axe, and Yoongi still doesn’t move. Reeves yells, killing intent flaring, and then freezes completely with the axe blade almost touching Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi must have moved too fast to see, but he just stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes staring up at Reeves, smiling a little. Reeves begins to tremble, snarling and grunting to himself, like he’s trying to snap free.

A binding spell, Jimin realises. He must have put him in a binding spell.

“I give up!” Reeves screams, spinning away and hurling his axe into the dirt. He’s gasping for breath, sweat dripping onto the sand, and his face looks downright haunted. Yoongi still hasn’t moved, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest like he’s still waiting.

This is Min Yoongi. And he is terrifying.

“Better luck next time, Reeves,” Yoongi says, smacking Reeves roughly on the back. “We’ll try again when I’m back, huh?”

“See?” Yoongi says, knocking Jimin’s shoulder. “You have options.”

“I had no idea you could do magic,” Jimin breathes. “That was amazing.”

“Magic?” Yoongi laughs, face scrunching. Jimin struggles to keep his eyes from drifting down to those terrifying teeth. “I can’t do any of that.”

 

 

 

“You got to see him fight, and you didn’t think to wake me up?” Taehyung screams. “Are you crazy?”

“Please let me sleep.”

“No! You have to suffer now!” Taehyung yells, smacking Jimin with a pillow. “Some friend you are! I’m never kissing you to make Jungkook jealous again!”

“Okay?” Jimin yawns, rolling over. “I never asked you to do that.”

“I like to see him get all pissy and constipated,” Taehyung laments. “You suck, Jimin. You know how I feel about him.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“It’s in the legends, Jimin! This is literally fate. One of the last felix in existence, and me.”

“What’s so special about you in this situation?”

“Um? Everything?” Taehyung shoves at him, barely acknowledging Jimin groaning and blindly slapping at him. It’s the middle of the night, and Taehyung decided to wake up while they were having some food in the guildhouse, transforming back into a human form in the bursting room of rogues and mercenaries. Completely naked. This was not the bad part, Taehyung loves to be seen naked. The bad part was that he was curled up in a jumper between Jimin and Yoongi. So he kind of ended up with his naked lower body sprawled over Yoongi’s. Again, not the bad part. The bad part was that Yoongi realised what had happened and looked more disgusted than shocked. Taehyung is never going to emotionally recover from that.

“I want to sleep.”

“I will ruin your life,” Taehyung promises solemnly. “You take everything from me, especially Min Yoongi.”

“Maybe the problem isn’t your appearance, maybe he just doesn’t like the rest of you.”

“Why? My personality is bubbly and personable and sexy,” Taehyung says.

“Can we have this discussion later?”

“No!” Taehyung snaps, but he goes silent when there’s the sound of scampering little feet. There’s a little bit of squeaking, Taehyung humming and agreeing, and then some more tumbling feet. “The mouse saw Namjoon coming.”

“In the middle of the night?” Jimin groans, burying his face in the pillow. “I hate all of you.”

“Jimin!” Namjoon’s voice comes through the door in the split second before he throws it open. “Hi, Taehyung. Jimin, look at this. I found something about the forest of Yore like the paper said.

The mage looks dishevelled, grey hair a mess on his head, and there’s a lot of dust on his thick woollen cloak, all neat straight lines printed all over his torso, no doubt from carrying stacks of dusty books around. The mage’s light orb follows him around in a way that kind of reminds Jimin of tinkerbell, but with no personality.

“Look,” Namjoon says, opening up a book and dropping it on Jimin’s lap. “This is the high sorcerer of Yunmeo, during the war. Some guy called Woo Dohyun. He was a respected wizard of the time, and importantly, a scholar of the elf texts.”

“Elf texts?” Jimin asks. “Weren’t they all burned?”

“We’ll get to that, listen to this,” Namjoon says, opening a new book. “This book is about the dynasty of the last king, Kang Cheol. His eldest son was meant to marry the princess of Yunmeo, to avoid war. I guess there were tensions already. Gisu had a long history of elf wars, which Yunmeo didn’t. This means that there was a huge population of elves in Yunmeo at the time, and nobles possessing higher mana were able to claim higher status. So this girl, the sixth daughter of the Yunmeo king and the highest-ranking consort—that is, the one with the highest mana—ended up having elf blood.”

“I can see where this is going,” Taehyung sighs.

“Yes,” Namjoon says, furiously flicking through pages until he can jam the book under Jimin’s nose. In the low light he can barely make out the illustration of a beautiful woman, but Gisu has twisted her appearance with the ‘elf’ characteristics: long pointed ears, a pointed face, no teeth, strangely-coloured eyes and talons for hands. “Han Chaeyong. Once Gisu realised she had elf blood in her she was beheaded at the border river, which would later become the Red River.”

“Because of her?”

“No, the Red River happened seven years ago, not this,” Namjoon takes the book out of his hands and replaces it with a new one. “Yunmeo was obviously enraged at what Gisu did, so they started the war. Once Gisu realised that the nobles had high magic potential because of the commonhood of elf blood, Gisu decimated them. They rallied allies from all over to destroy Yunmeo and the elves it had to be hiding in there. And they succeeded, they burned fields and croplands and waited for the inhabitants to starve and grow weak, and then they attacked. Yunmeo sealed the castle as one of the last mages, and with no other option, turned to dark magic to stand a chance. But in doing so, he turned the castle into one giant portal for demon kind.”

“He did it to his own kingdom,” Jimin realises. “Why?”

“I assume it was an accident, or he was too grief stricken to understand what he’d done,” Namjoon says. “The Gisu texts are pretty savage about him, as usual. They say some bullshit about he turned to the elves’ closest relatives to fight his war—which is totally false, by the way. I guess he turned to the curse as his only option to get back at the royal family that had slaughtered his kingdom.”

“Did you find anything about that?”

“I did, actually,” Namjoon says, growing excited. He drops a couple books but Taehyung manages to catch them for him. “The Gisu royal line died overnight because of the curse, and the ancient method for finding distant relatives with royal blood involved a special jewel. During the war it was lost forever. I think that must be what Woo Donghyun stole and used. And he hid it where Gisu would never dare go: Yore forest, rumoured to be the last stronghold of elves.”

“You’re really something,” Taehyung breathes. “Namjoon. Can I kiss you?”

“Later, I have to find more books,” Namjoon brushes him off, gathering back all the tomes. “I need to go tell Jungkook and we can start planning the journey. But we have to figure out a way to approach them so they don’t just kill us immediately. You know how elves are.”

“Is Hoseok not exempt from this?”

“Oh, Jimin. You have no idea how racist elves are,” Namjoon laughs to himself. “I’ll go tell those two as well, though. See you in the morning!”

 

 

 

The first day of their journey to Yore forests is awful.

The sun is absolutely sweltering, and the horses are so charged up from the heat they’re almost impossible to control, even the cold-blood wants to charge around. Yore forest is on the northern side of Gisu, making the ancient border between Gisu and Yunmeo. Namjoon said many attempts have been made to enter the forest, but the elves’ magic is cunning, and as soon as someone steps through the treeline they become disorientated and lost. If they don’t trip over something and kill themselves, there are booby traps all over the forest. Armies have disappeared overnight trying to go through it. During the war, Gisu attempted to use it to break the line of defence but it was fruitless; the whole battalion was dead overnight.

All of these stories obviously fill Jimin with a lot of optimism. Taehyung also told him that elves tend to hate human druids, since the whole druid thing was invented by them and humans have bastardised their ancient practices and magic.

Hoseok told them very seriously he would not be going, to which Seokjin agreed and said they would wait outside. This is not an option either, Namjoon says, as the elves will take it as a threat. Great.

Their only good idea is to send Yoongi first. Felix and elves were allies before the war, before the felix were slaughtered and the elves went into hiding. And Jimin carries an elvish sword, one Namjoon claims will choose its wielder. Because elf swords have a union or something. So Jimin has something vouching for him. That’s about it, though.

“Do we have to do this?” Seokjin complains for the twentieth time as they ride. “Can’t we just abandon this whole curse thing? Is this necessary?”

“Just leave if you don’t want to do this,” Jungkook snarls, earning himself a slap from Yoongi.

“No way!” Seokjin returns, nudging their ambling ankylosaurus lookalike faster to glare at Jungkook directly. “My livelihood depends on things you do. I just don’t see why we can’t take really cool quests like, ‘go relax on a beach for a week’. What if the elves call Hoseokie slurs?”

“Unfortunately, Seokjin-ssi, there’s no way around it,” Yoongi explains, smiling sweetly. “We are following the clues we have to the next step in the story. If that is too much for you, feel free to wait back at Haegwon.”

“Don’t use your evil magic against me, felix,” Seokjin sniffs. “I’m getting a first-hand account of this adventure. And Hoseok can’t stay alone without me.”

“Actually, hyung—”

“He’d be lost without me,” Seokjin cuts him off, turning up the theatrics. “Once upon a time he was so small and stupid, he didn’t even know how to cook.”

Hoseok sighs. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

An eagle shrieks where it swoops overhead, and Jimin looks up to follow its direction through the sky. “What’s Taehyung saying?”

“Looks like he’s found somewhere to camp,” Namjoon surmises.

The second day is no better, even though the closer they get to Yunmeo, the milder the weather becomes. The horses are not used to the heavy forested terrain, used to running across sand and stone, so at the end of the second day they abandon them in favour of walking on foot. Taehyung gives them all a message to wander back to Haegwon, but who knows if they’ll listen.

After that, travelling the forest path becomes tense. They don’t exactly know where the border between Gisu’s northern forests ends and the Yore forests start. Namjoon insists there must be some marker, but Taehyung can’t sense anything through the animals, and Yoongi can’t sense anything either. So they keep walking, ears trained for the sound of drawing bows or even the slightest shuffle of feet through the dirt.

As night falls, there is nothing amiss despite the tension that has settled all over them. So they pack it up and go to sleep.

 

“Quickly, he’s awake,” someone hisses. Jimin groans, feeling nauseous and disoriented. The ground sways underneath him, and something painful is digging into his hips. He squints, trying to wake up, but his eyes feel heavy and bloated. Huh? He lifts his arms to rub at them only to realise they’re tied behind his back. And he’s being carried over someone’s shoulder. Oh. That makes sense.

Wait. Why is this happening to him?

“Hey!” Jimin shrieks, thrashing. “What’s going on?”

“I told you he was awake,” the same person hisses, and the person carrying Jimin starts walking faster, probably running now, with Jimin being jostled on their shoulder with every step.

“Who are you?” Jimin shouts, throwing his all into wiggling. Jungkook taught him how to get out of this situation once: but with all the bumping and throwing around it takes a while for his brain to remember it. Right, he has to check if his legs are bound, so he starts kicking—nope, not bound, just his wrists. Okay, then what?

Then you have to sit up, Jungkook had said. Lean back. Grab as low as you can with your bound hands, and throw yourself backwards.

He wonders if Jungkook came up with that himself. Doesn’t matter. It had worked back then, when Jungkook practiced picking him up and throwing him around and Jimin furiously kicked and bit and scratched his way out of it. He can do it again.

It’s a lot harder this time, after being unconscious with all the blood pooling in his head, but he manages to look around. There’s no one else around him, it’s just Jimin and these two guys carting him away. Are these elves? Has he been abducted by elves? This is such a hassle.

His head throbs and he can almost feel the blood swilling around under his skin as he struggles to right himself, but eventually he manages to push off the shoulder digging into his stomach and become vertical, just like his ape ancestors millions of years ago. The forest bounces and disappears into the distance from this angle, and he can vaguely hear the guy holding onto him complaining. Okay, next step.

He leans back until the elf swears and has to grab him tighter, trying to push him back forward, but Jimin is determined. He hasn’t made it this far for nothing under Jungkook’s smartass, bratty tutelage. He’s held down a full time job for years in late stage capitalism. These elves don’t know anything. He grabs at the first fabric texture he can, only to realise it’s the crotch of his own pants, so he tries again, leaning heavily to the right. There’s someone else rushing up to them now, speaking rapidly in a language Jimin doesn’t know, so he has to make this count. He walks his hands down as far as he can, one grab at a time, before he decides it’s enough. He swings his legs once, twice, and then throws himself backwards.

Somehow, they do indeed drop him.

Jimin falls flat on his back like a log, completely winded, but he doesn’t have time to blink the spots out of his eyes, rolling to his feet and scurrying away as pathetically as he can. Now that he’s in the right orientation, his head feels a lot better. The two elves that grabbed him each have pure white hair, long and tied back. In the gloom he can’t make out their features very well but both of them have blue bioluminescent spots crawling all over their bodies, from the crests of their cheeks to twisting around their forearms, not unlike some magic glowing moss spores or something.

Oh, and they’re holding all his weapons. And their own! Isn’t that just great.

“Who are you?” Jimin manages, breathing hard. “What did you do to my friends?”

“Forget about them, the Mother has probably had them slaughtered already,” one of them sneers, and Jimin struggles to tell himself it’s just a taunt. They wouldn’t really do that, would they? That’s pretty dark for a fantasy isekai.

“Oh yeah?” Jimin tries. “Even the felix?”

“The felix stopped being our allies when they were too busy being killed to help us!” the other elf snaps. Even his eyes glow that same glowing moss blue-green in the dark. It’s quite eerie. “We have to question how you found the Demon-Killing blade, that’s the only reason you are still alive!”

“Bullshit,” Jimin grunts, dragging himself to his feet. “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“We are not lying,” the other one says. “Fine. We will escort you on foot instead. You will meet the Mother and discover we tell the truth.”

At least they permit him to walk now that he’s awake, which makes Jimin suspect they aren’t as cutthroat as they’re trying to appear. They don’t look particularly old, that’s the other thing. They’re tall, because Namjoon says all elves are tall, but they are slender in a way that makes them look like they’re mid growth spurt, rather than adults. Did he get abducted by a couple of kids? That’s so embarrassing.

The reason they were hurrying when Jimin woke up becomes clear: they were close to their destination. A perfect ring of huge willow trees appears in the centre of the woods, all of their leaves glowing softly in that same shade of green. A narrow path has been worn through the grass, likely by years of elf feet, and the two kids escorting him shove him through.

In between all of these willow trees is a pond. Along the stones is the exact glowing moss Jimin had been imagining, all over the stones and even under the water, giving the illusion of a glowing, magic pool. He can’t tell how deep it is, but considering the centre is still pitch black, it must go quite deep. On the other end of the pool stands an elf, but this one looks more eldritch than humanoid.

Instead of hair, spindly white willow branches grow out of her skull, the leaves draping and swaying in the breeze like hair, he supposes. The eyes are nothing but pools of that glowing light within big empty sockets, and their lips are translucent over their teeth, veined like when a leaf has been sitting in bleach too long. Their teeth are jet black like they’re made of crystal, with two huge tusks poking up from the lower jaw. They’re impossibly tall, easily nine or ten feet, and their limbs are so white and spindly they may as well be branches of a tree instead of hands and legs.

Oh, and Jungkook is there too. On his knees, hands bound behind his back with—with literal roots growing out of the ground. Great.

“Jungkook!” Jimin hisses, crouching down like the eldritch monster elf won’t see them. “What the fuck is going on?"

Jungkook is furiously gesturing at him to shut up, as best as he can with his hands bound behind his back, and the two elves behind him shove him down onto his knees. Then they keep pushing him forward until he’s almost pressed side to side with Jungkook, and something cold and wet begins to crawl between his hands. Oh god, there isn’t a tentacle monster in this isekai universe is there? Please god no, he is not mentally prepared for that—

“It’s the roots,” Jungkook snaps, hitting him as hard as he can with his knee, which is not very hard. “Calm down.”

“I’m not the right kind of guy for a tentacle story!” Jimin shouts. “Please, monster elf, reconsider, come on—”

“Park Jimin,” the willow-tree-elf-thing starts, and it’s voice is terrifying in the way it hits him with surround sound, and Jimin realises it’s because every one of the willow trees around them is acting as a speaker instead of the elf’s actual mouth.

“Mother,” one of the elves that captured Jimin starts, presenting the Demon-Killing sword to the pool of glowing moss. “He is the one with the blade.”

Now in the glowing clearing, Jimin can see how young he looks, complete with elf acne. This is so embarrassing, he is never going to live this down. Being abducted by a couple of teenagers.

He places the blade into the water, and somehow it remains perfectly suspended with surface tension, just sitting there. The runes etched into the blade light up, the same glowing moss colour, and Jimin can only tell that the eldritch ‘Mother’ elf is looking at it because one of the balls of glowing light in their eye socket literally exits the skull and floats down to examine it closer. Jesus Christ.

“You are not of this world, Park Jimin,” the Mother elf says, as the ball of light moves on from the sword and comes to hover directly in front of Jimin’s face. He struggles not to flinch away, since it’s not like there’s any gore involved in it leaving the elf’s eye socket but for fuck’s sake, how’s he meant to not feel like it popped out a floating eyeball at him? The ball drifts over to Jungkook for a moment, and then back to Jimin. “How is it that someone from a different world comes into possession of one of our most sacred artefacts?”

Namjoon made it seem like the elves would respect him, for being chosen by the blade. It feels more like he’s being grilled for potential tax fraud. How does someone who earns minimum wage still have enough money to buy limited edition Nightmare Before Christmas merchandise? Which is stupid.

This situation is also stupid.

“I just found it! I swear!” Jimin insists. “We were out in some forest ages ago, hunting dog demons, and I just walked into this grove and bam! It was there!”

“The sword revealed itself to you?” the Mother elf asks, and Jimin nods furiously.

“You?” the Mother elf repeats, tone significantly more pissed off this time. “You, a nobody from another world, is given the right to our blade so sacred the last elf gods hid it away for a champion?”

“Calling him a nobody is really offensive actually,” Jungkook snaps. “He’s worthy of the sword, isn’t he?”

“Filthy rogues have no place in this forest,” Mother elf hisses, and a cold wind cuts through the willow trees. “And— that!” the elf shrieks, suddenly the whole clearing disturbed by a violent wind. “The medallion! He wears the crest of house Byul!”

Roots shoot out of the ground to twist around the medallion swinging from Jungkook’s neck, pulling on it even as Jungkook struggles away from them.

“Hey!” Jimin interjects. “Hey! Hey!” The volume seems to do something to stall the Mother elf, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. “Ask before you take something that doesn’t belong to you! This is preschool knowledge!”

“Let it go,” Jungkook hisses, face twisted with anger so severe Jimin has never seen from him. “Let it go now!”

“You are a Byul?” Mother elf hisses, and the roots finally pull on the medallion hard enough that the soft golden links of the chain snap, and it breaks off Jungkook’s neck. He lunges after it, even trying to grab it between his teeth but the roots whisk it away from him.

“Give it back!” Jungkook screams, yanking at the roots restraining him. “Give it back now! It doesn’t belong to you!”

“He is House Byul,” Mother elf declares. The glowing orb of light finishes inspecting the medallion and swings away towards the two elf kids still lingering at the edge of the clearing. “Kill him.”

“Wait!” Jimin tries, but this time Mother elf doesn’t care, the roots dragging the medallion towards the proper body, where the other eye still remains. “Wait! Don’t kill him! He’s like me! He’s not from this world either, he can’t be House Byul!”

This, at least, brings total silence to the clearing. The roots halt where they almost about to pass the chain to the Mother elf’s hands, so suddenly it swings like a pendulum. The two elf boys at least look relieved that they don’t have to come kill someone, but the eyeball-slash-orb-thing flies back over to Jimin.

“I detect no strangeness from him,” Mother elf says. “He is of this world.”

“He comes from Busan, South Korea,” Jimin seethes. “He’s an asshole and a brat, but he is from my world.”

“You lie before Mother,” the trees screech, and the elf’s body finally reaches for the medallion. “The last heir to Byul house perished seven years ago, and we celebrated through the night! Yet this boy wears the crest! The heirloom!”

“Now would be a great time to explain what it’s talking about, Jungkook,” Jimin hisses towards him. “Gonna fill me in?”

“Byul Haewon was my friend,” Jungkook snarls, ignoring Jimin completely. “I wear it because it was his dying wish!”

“His dying wish was to condemn you to us then!” Mother shrieks. In those spindly, branch-like hands, the medallion looks so small and innocuous Jimin has a hard time trying to think that actually those eye orbs have shit vision. How can something so small put Jungkook in so much danger?

“The day of the Red River, we celebrated for twelve suns and twelve moons!” Mother elf cries. “Yet a rogue bears the crest! Death to the rogue! One thousand deaths to the rogue!”

“Hey!” Jimin shouts, which seems to be a good way to get the Mother elf’s attention. “You just said those guys are dead, why is it a big deal if he wears their necklace? Isn’t it just jewellery now?”

Mother is silent for a long time. “Oh. Yes, I suppose.”

“Give it back then!” Jungkook yells. “Give me back my necklace!”

So he’ll call it a necklace, Jimin thinks to himself.

“But,” Mother continues, slinking forward, closer to the edge of the water. “A friend of House Byul is an enemy of ours.”

“You just admitted they’re all dead!” Jimin screeches. “What’s the logic?”

“When Gisu declared war on Yunmeo, House Byul was close to our forests,” Mother sneers. “We thought we had no bad blood. But when the war came, Byul burned us alive inside our forests for days. Any friend of House Byul is worth being put to death.”

Well, unfortunately, she has a good point. Jimin certainly would be neck-deep in a revenge arc too if all his friends and family got burned to death by his neighbours. He’s halfway there when they keep him up at night.

“Now would be a great time to explain what the fuck she’s talking about, Jungkook,” Jimin hisses. “Work with me here.”

Jungkook has his head bowed, his face shielded by the long hair that he’s pulled out of its usual ponytail. He’s not trembling, not fidgeting—he’s eerily motionless, and Jimin begins to panic. They killed him already. They did some creepy forest magic and he’s dead already. “Jungkook?”

“Byul Haewon was my friend,” Jungkook whispers. “That’s all I knew of him. Of course I’d wear his family crest when he died. I didn’t know anything.”

“Well!” Jimin turns back to the Mother elf, sweating. “You heard him! Ignorance isn’t a crime.”

“Actually it is, by elf law,” one of the teenage elves says. “Punishable by death.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Jimin gapes. “Jungkook. Jungkook they’re going to kill you for being stupid.”

Stupid Jungkook says nothing. This is not good.

“Surely he gets a trial,” Jimin tries. “To prove his intent. Right?”

“Elf trials are by magic,” the other teenage elf says. “The magic will reveal your intent. Can he do magic like that? Inability to do magic is considered guilty.”

Jungkook, you’re in the shit!!!!!!!! Jimin wants to scream.

Where is Taehyung, in this instance? Or Yoongi? Or Namjoon? Anyone that can help them??? They’re in such bad shit, Jungkook is gonna die because he’s having an emo moment because his friend died years ago or something—well, that is pretty rough, Jimin tries to remind himself, but actually you know what? Fuck that friend because look at the situation they’re in!

“Where are our friends?” Jimin tries. “They can prove his innocence.”

“If he is innocent of being ignorant, then he is Byul!” Mother cries, and ah, Jimin shouldn’t have said that. Whoopsie.

“Look!” Jimin shouts, straining against the restraints. This is bad. It’s literally always been Jungkook that has got them out of these situations before. “Um! Listen here. For a second !” This is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad . “I know his friend did a bad thing, but can’t we all look past it? Just this once? I mean, the sword vouches for me, right?”

The teenage elves are rapidly gesturing for him to shut up. Is that good or bad? Jimin doesn’t know. He’s sweating so heavily even his palms are clammy where they’re tied up behind him.

“And, like, Jungkook is like me! He isn’t even from here. Can he really be held to your laws when actually where we come from, innocence is assumed unless you can feasibly prove him guilty? You can’t make him guilty just by association!”

“SILENCE!” Mother screams, impossibly shrill and so intense the entire area vibrates with the force of their voice. “The rogue must die! And Gisu ally who steals our most sacred sword shall die also!”

“Fine, kill me,” Jungkook snaps, snarling where he’s tied up. Can he not do this now? Couldn’t he just have stayed nice and quiet for a few more minutes while Jimin tried to sort this out? He’s the one who does customer service. Jungkook would never survive in retail. “Kill me if you must! But return the medallion, it’s not yours!”

“There’s more elf blood on this crest than there is in the whole red river!” Mother snarls. “No. You die without it. Then we will destroy it and celebrate from one full moon to the next!”

“Do elves have a bail system?” Jimin tries to ask, but he’s drowned out by Jungkook.

“Give it back!” Jungkook screams, voice breaking. “It’s not yours! Give it back!”

“Die, rogue!” Mother screeches. “Take him! I will deal with the false prophet.”

The teenage elves grimace and make their way over, approaching Jungkook. Jimin can only look back at him in horror as Jungkook activates the strength spell he has inked on his forearms, and he begins to rip the roots holding him back straight out of the ground. “Give it back!”

“Jungkook!”

Even as he rips out the roots, more of them shoot from the ground to wrap around his arms, his legs, his chest (very bad images begin to fill Jimin’s head at this) and Jungkook can’t tear away from all of them. His face is red with anger, veins jumping out on his neck as he struggles. And on the other side of the pond, Mother stands serene and unbothered, holding the medallion in one skeleton-tree hand, face an unmoving mask. The eye orb still hasn’t returned to the eye socket, floating closer to Jungkook as he struggles.

The two teenage elves are easily taller than Jungkook when they grab him under each arm, even as he kicks and tries to pull away, but they clamp more magic roots around his arms that have thorns, and Jimin watches in horror as the thorns bite and dig into Jungkook’s skin, injecting some new spell that completely nullifies his own strength one.

“L-let him go,” Jimin tries, panicking. “Let him go! You can’t kill him for this!”

“Finally, you are correct, false champion,” Mother sneers. “I can kill him for whatever I want. The laws of humans have no purpose here. You knew that when you stepped foot into my forest.”

They’re going to kill him. The elves are going to kill Jungkook, where he is struggling against his bindings with the same fervour as before, but the loss of the strength spell has ruined all his effects. Jungkook, despite all his big sexy muscles, is completely powerless. The roots’ thorns have cut into Jungkook’s skin, only made worse by how much he resists, dripping down his arms in ribbons of blood.

It's chilling, seeing all that red. Not that it’s a fatal wound, in fact it’s barely a flesh wound—but in all their time together, even fighting dragons, orcs, demons—Jimin has never once seen Jungkook bleed.

They’re going to kill him.

“Stop it,” Jimin breathes, feeling powerless like he’s never felt before. The two teenage elves grab the edge of a root and start yanking Jungkook along. “Stop!”

“Now, you, Park Jimin,” Mother says, but Jimin can’t tear his eyes away from Jungkook, white hot panic rising in him. They’re going to kill him. Jungkook is going to die even though Jimin promised.

Like an idiot, like a liar, like a fool, Jimin fucking promised him.

“Jimin!” Jungkook yells, twisting back to look at him. “Jimin, just get out of here!”

“You will face me when I sentence you,” Mother cries, and a new wave of roots snap out of the ground, wrenching Jimin’s head back in their direction. He can barely see the tips of their toes where they brush the edge of the water, but instead of any humanoid foot, they are twisted and mangled, exactly like the roots of a ripped-up tree stump. “You, Park Jimin, who dares wield the blade of our ancestors like generations of my elves haven’t born and died trying to be worthy of it!”

Jimin can’t see anything except the still water of the pond, the blade balanced on top of it like a petal. The elvish runes carved down the length of the blade stare back at him as Jimin searches them for something. Like the sword will save them from this. It appeared to him in a time of need but there is nothing from it now, just a hunk of steel sitting on water.

“Jimin!” Jungkook’s voice comes again, more distant now. Jimin can’t breathe.

“A false prophet human travelling with a half-blood, a druid, a bard, a rogue, a felix and a mage ,” Mother sneers. “Death will suffice your companions, but you deserve something far worse.”

 

 

 

 

(“Is that Adidas ?”

Jimin looks up, roughly wiping at his eyes. Some big dark two-headed shadow is blocking the setting sun behind it, and Jimin doesn’t want to deal with any more guildsmen. This has been the worst day of his life. He got killed by a truck making his morning coffee and got fucking isekai’d.

The day has been long and awful. People just keep approaching him, talking to him. One woman even stopped in the middle of a busy highway to ask to read his fortune, and if he hadn’t pulled them both out of the way of some carriage careening in their direction, they’d both be dead a second time. They think he’s a priest or a shaman or something, and he’s had enough. He wants to go home, to his stupid job and his stupid apartment with stupid rent, wants to be stuck on the phone to stupid clients and wants to drink his stupid fucking coffee. But no matter how many times he rubs his eyes and reopens them or smacks his head or tries to meditate his way back to awareness, this whole bullshit doesn’t become a bad dream.

“Please go away,” Jimin moans, trying not to cry anymore. He’s had enough. He’s had a shit day and now he has to try and be homeless in this shitty fantasy mmorpg setting, since he has nothing except spare change people give him, thinking they’re donating to his religion or taking pity on him.

“No, fucking tell me,” the shadow says. “Your tracksuit. That’s Adidas, right?”

Of all the words to make Jimin start crying, he never imagined it would be ‘tracksuit’.

He rubs his eyes again, trying to get a better look at this mysterious two-headed shadow. Is that a race in this world? Two heads?

“Who are you?”

“Oh, my God,” the shadow says, arms flying up to grab one of its heads. Just one head, actually, as he squats down in front of Jimin. The fact that he says oh my god instead of gods or Eris or something makes Jimin even more alert. This isn’t possible. Right? He’s getting his hopes up. This is a fever dream. He’s entering stress-induced psychosis. “You’re wearing an Adidas tracksuit.”

It’s some guy. Very human looking. Very Korean looking. The other head is actually the hilt of a massive sword strapped across his back. The man reaches out to grab Jimin’s arm, as if to check he’s real. Jimin thinks he’ll grab his hand, but instead he goes straight for the cotton-polyester blend of his sleeve, thumbing the fabric between his fingers. Tracing the three white stripes on the sleeves, examining the logo on his left breast.

“You’re from there,” he whispers, voice watery. “Right? Where? Korea? America? China? Japan? Please, anything. Come on.”

“K-Korea,” Jimin gasps. “Busan.”

“Oh my God,” the guy whispers. He drops his head into his hands, and lets out a shuddering breath. “I thought—I thought I’d be the only one here. Forever. I’ve been here for so fucking long.”

“Don’t leave me,” Jimin begs, grabbing his arm. “I’m lost. Don’t fucking abandon me here.”

“I won’t,” the guy says fiercely. “You’re staying with me. What’s your name? I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m—the timekeeping system is different here, but I think I’ll turn twenty-six soon.”

“Park Jimin,” Jimin replies, finally feeling like he can breathe. “I’m your hyung.”)

 

 

 

 

Jimin stares at the blade, heart racing in his chest. He can’t let them kill Jungkook, he has to—he has to do something. Fuck, what can Jimin do? He relies on Jungkook for everything, he’s hopeless without him.

I think it’s Elvish, Yoongi had said. This is the word for fire.

Jimin stares at the rune for fire on the sword, and an awful sensation comes over him. He’s never used magic like this before, not really, the only experience he has is by swinging that damn sword. Namjoon’s teachings didn’t work, Taehyung’s didn’t work. Jimin can’t do magic without it.

He can now. Just this once. He knows exactly what he’s doing to a terrifying degree, like someone has slipped in and taken control of it all for him, piloting like they know what they’re doing.

One second everything is that glowing moss green, and the next second it’s raging and on fire. The roots holding him back are reduced to ash, and Jimin scrambles after Jungkook, Mother screeching behind him. They haven’t even made it that far with how much Jungkook is struggling. Jimin dives on him, feeling in some strange extrasensory way the roots holding Jungkook burn away to ashes because of him, until Jungkook is safe in his arms and Jimin can pull him away from the elves.

“Jimin, you—” Jungkook starts, and Jimin can hear his thundering heartbeat under his chest. “What are you—”

“ PARK JIMIN!” Mother screeches, a visible gust of wind turning over the entire area. The willows bow and their long leaves whip sideways, even Mother’s weird willow-hair is subject to the force of it. Finally it is snarling, translucent lips pulled back over its onyx black teeth, eye orbs blazing inside its skull. “You dare burn our forests! All humans are the same! Kill them!”

But Jimin’s eyes don’t stray from the medallion swinging in its hand, all the fire crawling and burning under his skin making him furious.

“Jimin—stop—” Jungkook tries, but Jimin ignores him. Just this once Jungkook doesn’t dare try and wrestle him back, which is good because Jimin doesn’t know how to shove him off like a normal person right now. Mother screeches, writhing and flailing, but Jimin realises it can’t move beyond the water. It’s rooted to the spot between the willow grove and the pond itself.

Namjoon would have a theory for why the elf looks like this. Maybe it made a deal with the forest gods thousands of years ago to protect its people, maybe it was never an elf at all, but Jimin doesn’t care for the cultural significance of Mother’s existence as he fumes, stalking back towards mother while everything smells like flames and ashes. The spot where he and Jungkook were tied down has been reduced to a charred mess, embers still flying in the air. The sword’s inscription glows bright gold now, completely different to the green of the pond, and somehow when Jimin steps down onto the blade where it floats on the water, he knows it will hold its weight.

“False champion!” Mother screeches. “How many elves I raised from birth, who trained themselves to death hoping to find this blade! You have no idea the disgrace you give my people, wielding our legends, our hope, not even a member of our world!”

Jimin steps down, and the pond is so small, it’s only one step across. His other foot lands right in front of Mother’s root-feet, so close he can smell the strange dead tree smell wafting off Mother’s form, combined with the wet smell of moss and willow and even fainter, the dry smell of bones.

“Well, guess what, Mother,” Jimin hisses, snatching the medallion out of its hand. “I didn’t want to be your champion either. I didn’t want to be here either. But this stupid world keeps choosing me .”

The wind dies, Mother staring at him with a dead still expression, not even budging as Jimin simply reaches out for the blade and it flies into his grasp, still glowing bright gold. He’s never used it like this before, maybe he never will again, but absolute stillness on Mother’s face makes it worth it.

“Leave, Park Jimin,” Mother manages eventually. “Take your foolish friends and leave.”

“We came for a jewel,” Jimin continues. “The Gisu touch stone. Give it to me.”

“Insolent—” Mother cries, angry again, but simply yells wordlessly as the roots slither and crawl free of the dirt at their feet, one of them carrying a black lump of what looks like coal. Jimin thinks he expects it when the root leans back and hurls it at him, but somehow it hits him square in the chest and fucking hurts. “Take it! Take this useless jewel and go!”

“Jimin,” Jungkook is saying, and Jimin has to look at him for a few seconds before his vision focuses, the sword growing heavy in his hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Yes! Go!” Mother screeches, but Jimin doesn’t listen. Jungkook takes the stupid rock and the medallion and shoves them in his pocket like they’re nothing, reaching for Jimin’s hand and tugging him out of there. The two teenage elves jump apart to let them through, which isn’t as satisfying as Jimin hoped it would be. The sword is way too heavy to carry, how does he ever carry this thing? Even when he puts it over his shoulder he feels like he’s going to put his neck out carrying it.

“Let me,” Jungkook takes the sword from him. He’s being such a good dongsaeng today, Jimin thinks, leaning onto him heavily. Even if he is an emo brat. “Just keep walking, hyung, I’m sure we’ll find the others soon.”

““I’m tired, Jungkook,” Jimin manages. “Can’t we stop for a second?”

“No,” Jungkook tugs him harder this time. “No, we can’t stop. Stay awake, okay?”

Jimin trips over something and knocks into Jungkook’s side, which makes Jungkook grab him around the waist to keep him walking. Jimin doesn’t even know where the rest of their weapons are. That can wait until tomorrow. He’s so tired right now, and it’s so dark and weird and green everywhere around them. It must be the middle of the night or something.

“I want to go home,” Jimin whispers, but he doesn’t know where exactly he means. Jungkook’s arm tightens around his waist.

“Me too, hyung,” Jungkook tries. Jimin leans his head on his shoulder as they walk. It’s uncomfortable but it beats holding it up. “Hyung? Hey, stay awake.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but stay awake a little longer, okay?” Jungkook’s voice sounds a bit different but Jimin feels too watery to be able to tell why. He’s so tired. If they had coffee in this world he’d be guzzling it right now. He misses his coffee machine. When he feels woozy and asleep enough, he can almost imagine standing at the kitchen counter like it’s any other day. Can still imagine the beeping of his alarm clock. But then, he can imagine Taehyung shaking him awake and Hoseok’s cackling laughter late at night, Namjoon’s soft morning voice. Jungkook’s presence in the corner, never too far. Jungkook pressed against his side, teaching him how to hold a sword, beheading a demon dog with its mouth stretched open to bite Jimin in half.

He can still remember finding the Demon-Killing blade, even. Jungkook had taken Jimin into a ‘low level’ forest for him to learn how to kill mushroom demons. The trees had become a labyrinth, Jimin enjoying the easy task of crushing tiny bumbling demons under his feet, covering his nose from the sleep spores with a cloth that he hadn’t stopped to check if Jungkook was still with him.

The sword had been inside a tree, its trunk wrapped like vines around it until the blade was fully encased, as if on display. With every step Jimin took closer towards it, it seemed to become more exposed, until Jimin reached out a hand and the hilt tipped straight into his palm.

He tries to close his hand around the blade now, but he knows his hand is empty. He wants to sleep so bad. He’s seen what Namjoon can make with the inside of his tent using magic: like some stupid TARDIS knockoff but instead of some random time-space shit, Namjoon can kit out a tiny tent to be the same size as a palace, with a  four-poster bed and rugs and a fireplace and everything. He can even have a stove running so there’s always tea when he wants it. Magic is literally a broken mechanic in this world. What he wouldn’t give to sleep in Namjoon’s tent—but without Namjoon. He snores. No one can share the tent with him. Well, maybe Jungkook can. He likes to share beds with Jungkook, he sleeps like a rock and barely moves. That’s how they got by in the winter when they hadn’t met the others yet.

What is Jungkook even like, back in their world? All Jimin knows is that he’s been here for years. He never told Jimin the details.

“Tell me about your life before,” Jimin says, his voice slurred where his mouth is mushed against Jungkook’s shoulder. “You never have.”

“Okay, but only if you stay awake,” Jungkook says. “I got hit by a bus in junior high. I went to cram school, studying for entrance exams, and I had a huge crush on my classmate. We would walk back to the station together, and one day I was really brave and I confessed to him.”

Jimin can’t imagine a baby-faced, middle school Jungkook. Maybe current Jungkook shrunk down. The idea of Jungkook being stuck at cram school feels so alien, even though Jimin certainly went to them. “And?”

“He freaked out,” Jungkook says. “Turns out he wasn’t gay! And he hated gay people. And he was so mad that a gay person looked at him and had a crush on him that he pushed me. And we were on the edge of the road. And, guess what? There was a truck.”

“Fucking truck-kun,” Jimin murmurs. “Got me too.”

 “At least they don’t care if you’re gay here,” Jungkook mutters. “Is it different in Korea now?”

Jimin doesn’t have the heart to tell him. “There are some changes.”

“Guess I’ll have to see for myself,” Jungkook says. They take a few more steps, Jimin keeps struggling to get his legs under him. “If I carry you, will you stay awake?”

“Mmh,” Jimin says smartly. Being carried by Jungkook sounds great right now.

He expects Jungkook to put him on his back, but instead he picks Jimin up like a baby and balances the sword over Jimin’s legs between them. This is better though, because now Jimin can put his head where he wants it just right, and completely fall asleep.

 

Jimin keeps them from moving for three days. This is because he is bedridden.

Which is fine, he loves feeling like he has no strength in his body and he can barely stand up if his life depends on it. Namjoon lectured him about letting out all his mana until he almost died, whatever that means, so Jimin isn’t allowed to do anything fun at all.

The details of how they escaped the forest are still foggy. He barely remembers Jungkook carrying him, waking up as they dropped him into Namjoon’s (very luxurious) bed, screaming and crying as the pain hit. Not a great thing for his pride. Then Namjoon treated him or whatever so the pain is gone but the full-body weakness remains. All Jimin knows is that after he pissed off the Mother enough to let them leave, the others who had been wrangled and kept in a clearing by some other elves all shoved them out of the forest at once, leaving Jungkook to find them.

Which he did. At some point. Jimin was passed out for all of this.

But the bad part of all this is not Jimin being too weak to move or the work-til-you-drop part of his brain being betrayed by his own weakness and telling him to kill himself or having to be supported when he even goes out to pee—no, the worst part is that someone has to share the tent with him to protect him, because Jimin is quite literally defenceless. And the worst part is that it’s Jungkook.

And Namjoon’s tent only has one bed.

This is fine of course, because Jimin loves to lie awake all night acutely aware of Jungkook’s light breathing beside him, not quite asleep, too hot to sleep with a shirt but for some reason Jungkook keeps those stupid tight leather pants on. Jimin loves knowing that even glancing at the smooth shape of Jungkook’s arm crossed under his head and even the dark patch of armpit hair makes him feel insane. For how tired his body is, Jimin’s brain seems to be working so much overtime it puts all his muscles to shame.

Jimin tries to train his eyes to stare up through the canvas of the tent, absorbing as the light changes from night to dawn to morning, but every time without fail Jungkook will shift in his sleep and Jimin will go back to looking at him until he falls asleep. This is embarrassing.

This is the third night of bed rest, and Jimin has had enough. He’s slept too much the last few days. He’s fed up. He feels sick and sluggish from too much sleep. How is that even fair? He’s been staring around the tent for hours, the fluttering canvas roof, Jungkook beside him, the roof again, the little lip at the bottom where it meets the grass and there’s the inch of light that seeps through underneath, Jungkook again, a shirt sliding off the stool where it had been balanced. Jungkook again. The roof.

“Why are you still awake?”

Jimin startles, jerking towards Jungkook. He hasn’t moved from his typical position, and Jimin can just barely make out that his eyes are closed.

“Why are you awake?” Jimin snaps on reflex, feeling caught out. Jungkook sighs.

“You keep fidgeting,” Jungkook replies. “What is it?”

“I’ve slept too much,” Jimin mutters, kicking at the blanket with his feet. In an ideal world he would be on his phone right now, playing games or watching something, but life isn’t fair. “Can’t anymore.”

“Not very millennial of you,” Jungkook murmurs. “There must be something that nags at you to keep you so awake, though.”

You, Jimin wants to snap, but he manages to hold that in. Jungkook has been very clear how he feels about Jimin, there’s no need to embarrass himself. To an extent it’s natural to be hyper aware of the semi-naked hot guy asleep next to you with his nipples out. And then to an extent Jimin sounds obsessive. They kissed, like, once. It’s only been a couple of weeks at most but it feels like centuries ago, feels like yesterday, and Jimin should stop thinking about it. Because there’s baggage with him and Jungkook that doesn’t make it easy or fun. Jungkook expects Jimin to do the main character thing that allows them to go back to their own world, back to South Korea with the insane cost of living and work hours and entertainment industry. He made Jimin promise him that he’d do it, when he was too desperate to actually think about what he was committing to.

“Do you really think we can go home?” Jimin asks, looking back at the line of light seeping under the gap between canvas and grass. “If we finish the ‘story quest’. You really think we can?”

He expects Jungkook to outright say yes, or maybe something angstier like I have to believe we can, but instead Jungkook is silent for a painful moment, Jimin counting four breaths before he finally sighs and responds.

“When I came here,” Jungkook says. “Well, just before. I talked to someone. I met someone. A god, or something.”

“For real?” Jimin asks, turning back to him. He can see the whites of Jungkook’s eyes now, knows he’s awake and staring around  the tent like him. Jungkook’s fingers twitch where they’re crossed over his forearms.

“Yeah,” Jungkook admits. “I guess—so many years went by I started wondering if I had imagined it. If it was a near-death fantasy. If all of this was a near-death experience. But once you came, I knew it wasn’t.”

“How’d you know I wasn’t a figment of your imagination too?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook squirms a little, embarrassed.

“Because I couldn’t predict or understand you at all!” Jungkook huffs. “Every time I thought I could imagine what you’d say or what you’d do, I was wrong. So I gave up trying to believe I came up with you, okay? You’re real, fine. Not an NPC.”

“And how long did that take, exactly?”

“Don’t ask that,” Jungkook says, a little too quickly. It’s silent for a while, less uncomfortable, the distant buzzing of nighttime insects filling the emptiness. “I just—when you came, it was like. Oh. Maybe I can go home.”

“Jungkook . . .” Jimin starts, shifting on his side to look at him properly. “They never go home in isekais. That’s the point.”

“I know.”

“What if—I mean, we got hit by a truck, Jungkook,” Jimin whispers. “Can you imagine someone surviving that?”

Jungkook shuffles uneasily, squeezing and releasing his own arms. “No. But I mean it, Jimin. When I came here, there was someone. And they said that if I restore the balance, I can go home. Or something. So I tried, for years and years and nothing happened. Until you.”

Jungkook looks at him now, face tipping towards him. Jimin can see his eyes moving over his face, but it’s too dark to make out the intricacies of his expression.

“How do we do that?” Jimin whispers. “How do we ‘restore the balance’? What does that even mean?”

“It must have something to do with the demons,” Jungkook says, but he still sounds unsure. “It can’t be anything else. Why would we wake up in Gisu, of all places, otherwise?”

“Even—even if we do that,” Jimin tries, “what if it’s just to get your hopes up? What if we just die and get reincarnated back at Korea? What if this is our only chance to still be us?”

“I have to take the risk,” Jungkook decides. “Even if it’s just something manipulating me into doing their work. I’ve been here almost as long as I was in Korea. My family could be waiting for me. I never finished high school. Never got a job. Never even decided what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

“You’re not missing out on much,” Jimin mutters, but he doesn’t mean it. Hopefully Jungkook can hear that. Sure, his life is bland and boring and nothing like he dreamed it would be, but it’s still his life. The slice he carved for himself, as underachieved as it may be. Jungkook never had that chance. Of course he deserves that back. Jimin would never try to tell him he doesn’t.

“Easy for you to say,” Jungkook says quietly. The dark makes it seem like they’re much closer than they really are and Jimin feels weirdly small. Like maybe if he says something particularly vulnerable, the dark will swallow it up before Jungkook can hear it.

“Would it be so bad?” Jimin whispers, staring at where the shadows gather at the base of Jungkook’s neck. “Would it be so bad to live out a life here?”

“Jimin—”

“With me?”

 “Jimin,” Jungkook repeats, suddenly looming over him. Jimin hadn’t even registered him moving. The heat of him bleeds through the stupid blankets and sleep clothes and Jimin can’t take his eyes off the way Jungkook’s hair has come loose and hangs around his face. He looks—

Jungkook kisses him. Hard.

It’s like that stupid night at the tavern but better. They aren’t drunk and there’s no loud noises and people occasionally bump into them as they try to squeeze past. Here it’s just him and Jungkook, acutely aware of every inch they touch. Jungkook kisses like he’s been starved for it, there’s nothing sweet or cute about it. The tavern was barely a taste.

His fingers sink into Jungkook’s long hair and pull, rewarded with a glorious groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat. Their teeth scrape together but that seems to make Jungkook feral. Jimin’s scalp burns with how tight Jungkook pulls on his hair, toes curling.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Jungkook whispers, hot breath fanning over Jimin’s face. He massages Jimin’s scalp as if in apology, but just the vague feeling of all the muscles in Jungkook's arms twitching on either side of his head as his fingers move makes Jimin whine. “Look at you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jimin says, palms tracing the line of Jungkook’s bare shoulders, down his back as far as he can reach. “Do you even know how hot you are?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Jungkook growls, pulling him in for another biting kiss. “I’ve wanted to do this from the second I saw you,” he says, moving down to kiss his neck. “I hated seeing other people approach you when I wanted it to be me.”

“You son of a bitch,” Jimin grunts. He pulls away and Jungkook barely makes a questioning noise before Jimin shoves him onto his back, straddling his hips. “You should have done this months ago. I can’t believe you fucked around this long.”

From above, Jimin can see Jungkook’s face much more clearly as the diffuse light bleeds through the canvas. Can see his wide eyes, can see Jungkook licking his lips, hair mussed. It hits him all at once that he could have had this from the start. That it all could have been different. That he wouldn’t have waited until now, if he’d just said something.

Jungkook’s hands slip under the hem of his shirt. “Keep going?”

“Unbelievable,” Jimin mutters, ripping the shirt off. “The whole time you made up some bullshit about staying focused—”

“I was so jealous,” Jungkook admits. “It was insane.”

“Fuck,” Jimin hisses, crushing their mouths together. Jungkook’s hands are everywhere, scorching wherever they touch, goosebumps when they move on. It’s maddening and Jimin keeps breaking the kiss to moan.

“You’re so—” Jungkook gets cut off by Jimin’s groan as he begins playing with his nipples.

“Stop, stop,” Jimin smacks his hands away, breathing hard. “We don’t have—we don’t have anything. We can’t keep going.”

“I can think of a few people that have that stuff,” Jungkook offers, and Jimin groans at the idea.

“No fucking way,” he sighs, head knocking against Jungkook’s as he rests their foreheads together. He can’t see anything from here, in the dark, but he can feel Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttering against him as his eyes move and blink in the dark.

“We can do something else,” Jungkook suggests, hands moving to his legs and kneading at the softer flesh of the inside of his thighs. “If you want.”

“If I want?” Jimin scoffs, but he’s a simple man. He can’t say no to Jungkook’s low tone, hands under his shorts now but not getting any closer to where Jimin wants him, already half-hard like he’s never even kissed anyone before. He shuffles a little on Jungkook’s lap until he feels a distinctive bulge against his ass. “Not you?”

“I take it back, you’re such an asshole,” Jungkook gripes, and Jimin can’t help the bark of laughter he lets out, rolling off Jungkook to yank off his shorts.

He can see Jungkook’s eyes on him, travelling down his hips and to his cock and then down his thighs further. The hitch in Jungkook’s breathing makes it all worth it, especially when Jimin reaches down to take his dick in his hand, just to see Jungkook react.

“Well?” Jimin says. “I’m waiting.”

Jungkook grumbles something unintelligible as he kicks off his own pants, but it’s darker on his side of the tent and Jimin can’t see a thing as he shuffles around way too fast until he’s back on top of him, devouring his lips. Jungkook doesn’t give him any time to lie there and realise how much it is, that it’s Jungkook naked against him, that it’s Jungkook’s hard dick he feels against his hip, until he spits in one hand and takes both their cocks in his.

“Why are you so fucking big,” Jimin says stupidly, a thought he meant to keep inside his head, but Jungkook’s evil laugh is still good. “Just wait until next time. I’ll show you.”

“Next time, huh?” Jungkook whispers into his neck before he presses a small chaste kiss to Jimin’s collarbone that makes his face burn violently. That felt like a bit too much, a bit too intimate, but Jungkook barely makes a deal of it. He props himself up on an elbow until Jimin can see his stupid hot silhouette in the moonlight and begins to jerk them off together in earnest, muttering low nothings into Jimin’s ear that have him moaning anyway.

The worst part is that when they both come on Jimin’s stomach, sagging with relief, Jungkook gathers Jimin in his arms and presses kisses to his shoulder like they’ve done this a hundred times, like maybe it was something more. Jimin has to hide his face in his chest for a long time to try and calm his racing heart like a fucking teenager.

“I’ll clean us up,” Jungkook offers, ever the gentleman. “Pass me your shirt.” Nevermind.

“Fuck off, no way,” Jimin grumbles against his chest. “Use yours.”

“I have to wear that!” Jungkook protests. “Whatever, let’s just use Namjoon’s blanket.”

“That is such a great idea,” Jimin agrees, kind of enjoying the total limpness of his body while Jungkook does everything. When they’re clean Jungkook even fluffs up all the pillows and shuffles them around until it’s comfortable despite the heat—well, maybe being naked and sweaty helped with that too.

“When I’m not so sleepy, watch your ass,” Jimin threatens mid-yawn. “Gonna hit when you least expect it.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’ll show you.”

Jimin being released from bed rest is one of the best things that’s happened to him in a long time. Unfortunately Jungkook hovers a lot which is fine, Jimin doesn’t care that they’ve been pissing each other off the entire time they’ve been with each other and now Jungkook is obsessed with looking after him, or always staring at Jimin’s mouth. Jimin doesn’t give a fuck what they think. The only downside is that Jimin literally cannot get a second alone and he’s about to start screaming and wrestling Jungkook into the ground so he stays put for like 0.1 seconds, which is literally fantasy because there’s no way he’d win against Jungkook.

Like now. They’ve been hiking towards Yunmeo all day, and the walking wasn’t as hard as Jimin thought it would be, but every five minutes Jungkook would walk past and offer Jimin water or remove something from his pack. Again—fine. Jimin loves voluntary servitude. But now it’s night time and Yoongi finally won the game that decides who gets to cook and who has to clean, and they had a very nice meal and now they’re watching Seokjin and Hoseok clean. And Jungkook is plastered to Jimin’s side where they are perched on a log.

Taehyung wiggling his eyebrows at him is whatever. Jimin isn’t blind, he can see a bruise on Taehyung’s neck, and Hoseok and Seokjin haven’t taken in a third, so there’s only two other people it could have come from. Jimin would tease him about it, but he can’t get away from Jungkook long enough to even bring it up.

“And now why don’t we let Jimin and his guard dog go to sleep,” Yoongi suggests, looking very smug where he sits. Jimin watches him knock back some liquor that is literally gasoline and bites back a sharp reply. He is better than this. He won’t rise to the catboy’s jokes. This time.

“Are you still sharing with the hyungs?” Jungkook asks, and if Jimin was not already looking at Yoongi he would have missed the glorious moment when the felix’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback. Caught out. Put on the spot. Ready to be pounced upon with teasing.

Unfortunately Taehyung beats them all to it.

“Please, hyung?” the druid asks, batting his eyes at him. The best part is Yoongi having to clear his throat and look away, visibly flustered. Taehyung is not deterred, never one to take a hint. “Jungkook and Jimin are being gross. We can keep sharing, right? You’re the perfect size in bed.”

“He means to hold,” Namjoon elaborates. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, with the spikes on his dick and all,” Jungkook says. “I got scared for a second there.”

“Oh, that’s what those were?”

“I think I’ll go to bed, actually!” Yoongi says. “Goodnight everyone—”

“No, sit back down, sexy cat man,” Hoseok snaps, yanking Yoongi back. “I want to see the fancy rock we got from the elves. I think I deserve it, we literally almost died.”

“I’m more surprised the elves weren’t trying to have sex with Jimin,” Seokjin mutters where he crouches washing dishes.

“The rock?” Namjoon asks, pulling it out of his magic pouch. “Okay, pass it around. Sorry, I just didn’t think anyone would be interested. I mean, unless you’re the heir to the throne, it’s not a very cute rock.”

“What does it do if you’re the heir to the throne?” Hoseok asks, snatching it out of Namjoon’s hands like an eager child. He inspects it closely, even knocks on it with his knuckle and listens to the noise. Doesn’t seem like he’s very impressed, passing it to Seokjin with his wet hands. “Here, baby.”

“Hm?” Hoseok drops the rock into Seokjin’s hand, and immediately the rock begins glowing with so much light it hurts to look at. “Huh? Is it supposed to do that? What?”

“Gods above, this is not happening,” Namjoon whispers, rushing towards Seokjin. Jimin blinks the light out of his eyes and attempts to look at the rock from here. On the inside is a definite image, like someone has suspended something in the centre of the rock, and the light has finally been turned on to illuminate it. “Hyung, this is—you’re a king.”

“Nice try, mage, but your pranks don’t work on me ,” Seokjin says smugly, tossing the rock to Yoongi. “Help me with the dishes if I’m such a king. How does Yoongi manage to dirty so much shit, anyway?”

(The rock is back to its normal, coal-like self in Yoongi’s hands now.)

“This isn’t a prank,” Namjoon manages, voice all tight and high-pitched. “Hyung, this is the Gisu touch stone. The thing that identifies the heir to the throne!”

“Hoseokie, are they pranking me?” Seokjin asks, ignoring Namjoon. “I feel like they are trying to prank me.”

“I’ll prank you,” Hoseok offers, so sincere it’s hard to watch. “Whatever you want.”

“I’m not pranking you!” Namjoon shrieks. “Look, it’s not doing anything for the others!”

Taehyung tosses the rock to Jimin when it does nothing for him, and it also does nothing for Jimin. He’s not sure what he expected, as if the main character disease gives him any royal claim. It does nothing for Jungkook either. Out of all of them, it only reacted to Seokjin.

It is a little strange, Jimin supposes, that a bard that lives on the road is the one to become king. Perhaps it’s because he’s read so many fantasies, but Jimin suspects Seokjin has been running away from something like this his whole life. Bards are notorious for actually being nobles but too snotty and poor to be identified. The bard currency of free drinks and a night of lodgings at a tavern rarely makes a man rich.

“You knew,” Jimin says, and Seokjin finally stiffens where he’s crouched down.

“I didn’t know ,” Seokjin mutters. “Not exactly, anyway.”

“Oh, heavens,” Namjoon whispers to himself.

“Then what did you know?”

Seokjin shifts uneasily, wiping his sudsy hands on his legs. Hoseok is looking at him, nodding. Seokjin sighs.

“Look,” he says, “my family—are wealthy, but not nobles. Supposedly my great great great great great great grandfather or something embarrassed himself before the king at the time, and he was stripped of his land and titles. So I just assumed I was some sort of noble.”

“Okay, but being a noble is not equivalent to being king,” Yoongi interjects. “You know that right? There’s a big gap.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be king anyway,” Seokjin dismisses, “so what’s the issue?”

“No, Seokjin, you are the king.” Namjoon is pulling at his own hair. “The stone itself recognised you. You’re basically crowned.”

“They are totally pranking me,” Seokjin says to Hoseok.

“Maybe a little,” he replies.

“You’re not even taking this seriously!”

“Of course I’m not!” Seokjin retorts, sounding kind of pissed. “Namjoon, look at me. Look at me. I’ve been on the road since I was sixteen. I’m king? Don’t make me laugh. They raise those kids from birth to be good at controlling the masses.”

“Kings are stupid anyway,” Yoongi says. “You know how I feel about monarchy.”

“And it makes you incredibly wise,” Seokjin tells him. “So, Namjoon. Get the stone to find someone else.”

“It won’t,” Namjoon sighs. “Look, hyung, I know you’re not prepared for it or anything but think about it. The kingdoms refuse to ally with us because we have no king. Think of what you could do.”

Seokjin sighs again. “You expect me to take a throne I know nothing about because the rock glowed a little bit?”

“He has a point,” Taehyung tries.

“I can’t believe this.” Namjoon throws his hands up. “You can do anything! You can scrap everything about elves being bad, you can install laws that protect them. You can ask foreign mages for their aid to close the demon portal. You could—”

“As your king I command you to do these dishes for me,” Seokjin snaps. “Well?”

“I don’t want to.”

“And you want me to believe there are benefits to being a king.” Seokjin tsks to himself. “The youth of today. Unbelievable.”

 

 

 

They end up going to a village on their journey the next day. Jimin has to admit, this whole story is wrapping up neatly. They find the long-lost monarch of Gisu, breaking the curse that was put on them centuries ago. And now something about Jimin killing this demon king, maybe ending the war? Or whatever it is they have going on?

Seokjin and Hoseok have been avoiding Namjoon all day ever since the king-rock made things weird. Jimin can’t say he blames them.

Their task is to buy supplies for the next couple of days of walking. Namjoon has been so dejected all day that it’s taken all of Taehyung’s effort to lift his spirits, but unfortunately telling Namjoon how sexy he is doesn’t seem to be helping. Whatever. Whatever the two of them have going on with Yoongi isn’t helping them either, since Yoongi doesn’t think it’s worth talking about.

But anyway. Back to Jungkook trying to buy apples for their good ‘HP stats’.

“Hello, young man,” the seller says, “what can I do for you today—”

“Buy,” Jungkook cuts him off. The seller stumbles for a second, caught out and uncomfortable.

“Uh, of course you can, sir. What would you like to b—”

“Apples,” Jungkook says. “Quantity ten.”

“I— of course,” the seller starts, bagging ten apples. Jimin honestly feels kind of bad for him. “That’ll be—”

“Five coin,” Jungkook finishes for him, placing the currency on the seller’s bench and snatching the bag of apples out of his hands. He doesn’t say thank you or goodbye as he walks away, even as the seller looks at his back and shakes his head in confusion and displeasure. Well. Whatever.

“You know you can just talk normally when you order stuff, right?” Jimin asks. “You can even gather what you want first and just pay.”

“I don’t make small talk with NPCs, Jimin,” Jungkook mutters. “Come on.”

“There is so much wrong with you,” Jimin sighs, tugging him into an alley. “Kiss me?”

“Turning me into a kissing NPC,” Jungkook mutters, but doesn’t hesitate.

The good mood doesn’t last. As fun as it is to kiss and tease Jungkook, the closer they get to the Red River and their eventual destination seems to make everyone kind of grim. Jungkook is fidgety and doesn’t sleep, offering to keep watch instead. Every time Yoongi tries to protest, insisting someone else have a turn, but Jungkook is impossible to argue with.

By the time they finally reach the Red River, Jungkook looks like a zombie with lethal levels of anxiety. And it’s not just that. Seokjin has completely ignored Namjoon ever since the king-rock thing. Hoseok is busy ferrying messages between Seokjin and Taehyung wringing his hands like he’s never been more nervous in his life.

Not to worry, though. Jimin is a full-time job veteran. He knows exactly how to make people get along: alcohol.

They don’t have karaoke in this world but they do have a bard, so it will have to do. Jimin sneaks off to the nearest village with Taehyung and buys the most spirits they can. Jimin doesn’t even know what kind of drink it is. Taehyung just has a sip and says it tastes like poison, so it must be good.

He carries that stupid pot of sloshing liquid all the way back only to find Jungkook absent.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Jimin asks Yoongi, feeling stupidly anxious. Jungkook is not an idiot, he has a great survival instinct and he wouldn’t do something dangerous. Probably. His judgement making might be seriously impaired at the moment, Jimin isn’t sure.

“Went for a walk,” the felix says. “You should go talk to him.”

“And you just let him go?” Jimin snaps, but he doesn’t stick around to give Yoongi a piece of his mind. Maybe he should have had some alcohol too. 

He wanders down the dark river, taken aback by how nice everything looks. Everyone seems to talk about the Red River with disdain, but the area is downright idyllic. The grass is soft and rolling, nothing but open land and wildflowers. The stream is crystal clear where it trickles, the steep valley on the other side of it rising into the sky. Somewhere on the top of that is Yunmeo’s citadel, where the demon king lives. Where Jimin has to do some sort of main character thing. And then what? They go home?

Jungkook is sitting at the edge of the river, hugging his knees. It startles Jimin a little, how small he looks. Jungkook is big and imposing at the best of times, but right now he looks vulnerable. Like someone else.

“Jungkook?” he calls.

Jungkook jerks up, head swivelling to him in the dark. Jimin can tell he’s looking at him because his ponytail is hidden behind his head now. “Jimin. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Jimin mutters, dropping to sit in the moss beside him. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

Jungkook shrugs. Jimin thinks he might be shivering a bit. “I wanted to be alone. I hate it here.”

“You—” Jimin starts, but Jungkook doesn’t even sound like his usual self, which makes the retort he was planning evaporate. Jungkook looks like he’d rather march up the mountain alone to Yunmeo than stay here a second longer.

He can’t see the medallion in the dark, but he knows it’s there, swinging over Jungkook’s chest. The Red River seems to be a terrible story, a cautionary tale, but Jimin was never able to piece it together. No one wants to tell him, especially not Jungkook. But—Jimin gets it now. He’s stupid and it took him a long time, but now it makes sense. Jungkook’s been here for more than ten years. How did Jimin never realise? He feels kind of like a dick now.

“I brought us booze,” Jimin suggests. Jungkook does not even snort. This is bad. He doesn’t know how to deal with this in a productive way.

“Jungkook,” Jimin tries, tugging at the hem of his pants. “This might be our last night here.”

This makes Jungkook sigh, like it pains him. It’s something.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. But I just—of all places, why did it have to bring me back here?”

Jimin leans into him, watching the water trickle by. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Jungkook says quickly, almost violently. “I hope it never gets mentioned again.”

“If we pull it off tomorrow, it might not,” Jimin tells him. “Maybe they’ll build a bridge here and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

Jungkook sighs, and he sounds so tired it hurts. “Not like we’ll be here to see it.”

Maybe it’s the lack of trees, but the summer bugs are unusually quiet in this area. Jimin doesn’t like how exposed they are, but he knows they’re alone for miles on all sides. The banks of the red river aren’t exactly a holiday destination.

“You should at least come sit with the rest,” Jimin tries. “You don’t have to drink.”

“I have to talk to Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. “This might be it for us, Jimin.”

It’s not exactly easy to think of a reply to that, but Jungkook stands when Jimin pulls on his arm, and he has a couple of drinks with the others, and then he and Yoongi sit a bit away and talk amongst themselves. Jimin is part of the task force getting Seokjin as drunk as possible, Taehyung loudly calling him your majesty until Seokjin joins in on the bit.

It might be okay, Jimin thinks. It might all work out okay.

It’s too hot to bother setting up the tents, so they lay on the soft grass and moss and stare up at the stars, all the unfamiliar constellations Jimin will never see again. Jungkook sighs beside him and knocks their feet together.

Until now, Jimin has only encountered demons that have spawned in caves, alone and just kind of popping into existence, easy enough to defeat one on one. Yunmeo is not like that. Even with the uneasily warm water of the Red River soaking up to his knees, the very air seems to change. Namjoon said it would from the wards, but Jimin wasn’t expecting quite this much. It’s colder, it smells bad, sulfuric and burning, and the citadel that used to be distant now feels looming and uncomfortable.

“Well, not my ideal holiday destination,” Taehyung grumbles, sitting on a rock to put his boots back on. “There’s still animals here at least.”

“Demons have no use for animals,” Jungkook mutters tersely. “Come on. Let’s go.”

It takes a few seconds of Jimin following Jungkook’s heels to realise no one has complained. He glances over his shoulder as they enter the trees, searching out Yoongiand seeing the felix looking downcast and unusually sullen. He wonders again what exactly Jungkook had wanted to talk to him about last night. Surely that can’t be what has him so quiet, right? Jimin’s pretty sure Yoongi could be stabbed through and still find ways to be a bastard about it.

Maybe he’ll ask Jungkook about it after. If they get a chance.

Jungkook is certain this whole battle is how they’ll do it. How they will end up back home. Jimin doesn’t know how. Supposedly the last mage of Yunmeo accidentally opened up a huge demonic portal that has been constantly feeding out more and more demons like a conveyor belt, until they have enough to wage another wave of war.

There’s even minimal complaining as they struggle up the steep slope; Yunmeo’s citadel is built at its top, and at the base of the mountains that rise up behind it. They don’t see any demons around at all, but there is evidence of them: arrows left embedded in trees, discarded clubs, abandoned fires from possibly years ago. The bones of something picked clean and left to bleach in the sun. Jimin hopes it isn’t a human, but it doesn’t exactly look four-legged.

The Demon-Killing blade is hot against his back, an inescapable reminder. This is the end of the story. There’s no point planning for this fight, they aren’t good at it anyway. They’ll do what they always do: walk in and fight their way to the boss. There is no other way to do this.

Come tomorrow, Jimin will have his answer. This is the only way he knows to keep his promise. Judging by the tight expression on Jungkook’s face, this is the only way he knows how to do it too.

He just kind of expected there to be more foes to fight on their ascent. In all likelihood, the Demon King knows they’re coming, and the ‘cutscene’ won’t be triggered until they cross some line. This is all intentional, the easy path to the final level.

He should say something. This is the time the main character gives a heart-warming speech to his troops. To his friends. But there’s no words in Jimin’s brain, no sentiments, not even the faintest idea of what awaits them. The feeling seems to be mutual with the others as well. Jimin never really imagined they’d get this far, it all seemed so distant and impossible to achieve, and now they’re just here.

Seokjin will be king. The idea makes Jimin laugh, if he lets himself admit it. The bard king. And Hoseok. Jimin hopes he gets to see what title Seokjin gives Hoseok. Prince consort maybe. A half-elf prince of Gisu is pretty hilarious.

Pain seizes Jimin in the heart. He wants to see it. He wants to see Seokjin be as chaotic and free-spirited as a king as he is as a bard. Wants to see Hoseok and him flirt grossly in front of a council. Wants to see the look of horror Seokjin will no doubt inflict on anyone he disagrees with. He wants to see if Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi stay together.

He might never see them again. He might not even see Jungkook again.

It would be funny to see Jungkook in uncomfortable formal clothes, standing next to Seokjin. It would be beyond hilarious to see Jungkook enduring formalities and etiquette. He can imagine some palace hand combing Jungkook’s hair back, making him look clean and smart instead of dark and moody.

He shouldn’t think about it. It’s too late now.

The sun is setting by the time they finally reach the citadel, the gates blown open years and years ago. Now the wall is open to all those who wish to enter, torches alight and burning inside, campfires in the distance, demons huddled around them not unlike people. Except they don’t look like people. They look like if Legend of Zelda had a Netflix dark reboot to make them exceptionally grotesque.

Jungkook glances back at him, just him, and nudges him with his elbow. Even the small, uneven smile he gives him is enough. They’re still together.

“Let’s do what we always do,” Jungkook says to him. “Come on, main character. Boss level.”

“Boss level,” Jimin repeats, exasperated, but he can’t fight it. He turns back to the others, all looking solemn.

“We should totally have found the Yunmeo heir before we did this,” Yoongi sighs. “Made them give out an insane reward for doing this. We’d have been rich.”

“Did you forget I’m literally a king?” Seokjin squawks. “We’re gonna be rich anyway!”

“You are so smart,” Taehyung tells Yoongi. “We could have had two kings paying us.”

“I’m not paying you!”

“Maybe we can play rock paper scissors to decide who can rule Yunmeo, if we don’t find an heir,” Namjoon suggests. “How does that sound?”

“The arcane arts have given you terrible powers of intellect,” Yoongi says very seriously.

“Ready to go?” Jimin asks Taehyung, and the druid looks unusually serious for a second before he shrugs, rifling through his loose clothes for a weapon of choice.

“Like we always are, boss.”

Jungkook has always made them do dungeons properly, never skipping or sneaking past a single enemy. Maybe the whole ‘experience farming’ tactic worked, because the demons are . . . well, easy to beat. Sure, some of them are ten feet tall and throw clubs around that are taller and heavier than Jimin, but they’re easy enough to parry with his sword. Easy to swing at their legs until they stumble, form open, and then it’s one swing and they crumble into black goop.

Breaching the castle is easy; they defeat two of the huge demons guarding the main entrance, and then continue. There’s one demon per hallway, one demon in every room. Repeat. Repeat. The demons swing and stumble when they go for Yoongi, leaving their back wide open for Taehyung to stab through.

Jimin’s time with them is disappearing through his fingers like loose sand.

This can’t be the end, he thinks; a totally normal thought to have as they finally approach the throne room. There are no guards here, but the door must be opened with magic. Namjoon finally steps forward, all of the spells locking the door illuminating to their huge, interconnected glory. Spells that have been untouched since the High Mage of Yunmeo died.

Restore the balance. That’s what Jungkook had been told. This is it. The doors swing open.

The portal looks like a black swimming pool.

It’s . . . really quite underwhelming.

One demon has just finished crawling out of the black goop and is towelling himself off with rough cloth. He looks a bit different to the demons they’ve faced so far—more humanoid, different shaped horns, his hands have five fingers—but Jungkook cuts him down with the same ease he does any demon. It is a bit shameful that they have to kill him with his whole demon dick out though.

“I knew you would come.”

The room begins to shake, an apparent earthquake so powerful that soot and dust begin to rain down from the high ceiling. The black pool churns and bubbles, but no matter where he looks, Jimin can’t see where the voice comes from.

The unskippable boss cutscene. Already.

It’s too soon. He isn’t ready to leave his friends yet.

The demon king is—well, he’s some guy. He’s like if Jungkook was more emo. Like if Yoongi and Jungkook had a really emo son that was taller than both of them. He’s kind of hot? But not enough monstrous to really body the demon agenda. He’s tall with big horns and the glowing yellow eyes and the fangs and the clawed hands and he has an objectively hot face with tasteful facial hair. He wears royal garb but the shirt is undone way too low so his entire sternum is visible. And he has a tail.

It's really pissing Jimin off. This is the final boss. This is it. And he isn’t even impressive looking.

“I thought he’d be hotter,” Taehyung whispers in his ear.

“Champion of elves and humans,” the demon king cries, and the back of his throat glows red hot like an ember. Well, that’s something. “You have come to meet your doom with me!”

Maybe Jimin is overleveled for this. Like when he beat Pokemon Diamond as a kid but kept going through the Elite Four with his new favourite pokemon to get them to level 100. It feels like there’s no stakes. Jimin considers letting the demon king mortally wound him so he has an excuse to retreat, so that they can go back to the Dark Horse and pretend this never happened and just stay a group of seven, with no rent and no bills and no sixteen-hour work days and no family to keep happy and no homophobia.

Jungkook is already looking at him.

It’s time to go home, Jimin tells himself. The fun fantasy game is over. It’s time to go home. He’s twenty-eight-year-old Park Jimin with a full time contract at a textiles company, with rent due and he used way too much heating this winter so the gas bill is going to be crazy high. His parents are waiting for him. The story is at its end. It’s time to go home.

In a parallel universe for the rest of his life, his friends here will be living their lives, changing this kingdom. And Jimin will be fighting for his life at his job, but maybe he’ll have Jungkook. He does kind of need a roommate.

“Alright,” Jimin sighs, drawing the Demon-Killing blade. At least the hunk of steel is happy to be living up to its name, glowing bright and golden, warm to the touch. This is the prophecy they wrote onto the blade or something like that. Maybe if Jimin had ever paid attention to the customs and legends of the region he’d have more chance to talk etiquette, give a main character speech, have more fucking time with his friends.

The demon king is tricky to fight because he uses two swords, but the Demon-Killing blade burns so bright and hot when they finally parry it melts straight through the steel and sinks into the demon king’s shoulder.

Then there’s the kind of cringey bit where the demon king stumbles back, is horrified at the sight of his own blood and that the main character has hurt him, and then powers up in a rage. His attacks are the same strength but faster, and Jimin just kind of. Fights him. Like, maybe if he draws it out long enough without killing him he can unlock a third ending where he neither dies nor has to leave his friends, but a third ideal option he can’t even picture comes out.

“Jimin!” Jungkook yells out. “Just finish it!”

And, well. Jimin didn’t know how to say no to Jungkook when he promised him he’d do this, no point starting now. The blade ignites and he stabs it right through the king’s chest, where his shirt is tastefully open.

“You might kill me this time, hero,” the demon king snarls, coughing up blood, “but all it takes for me is some time and I’ll come right back. But you will grow old and die. You will never win.”

And it is a good speech. Chilling, atmospheric, delivered wholeheartedly and with great gusto. If Jimin was playing this game from his bed back home and he heard the boss speak like this he’d think it was a good game. But god does it feel so hollow and weak to him now, watching as the demon king dissolves into black goop that dribbles down onto the floor. That’s it. That was the boss. There is nothing left now.

“Well?” Jimin asks, turning to Jungkook. “What now? We did it. We beat the final boss.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook says, and he looks wretched and awful and sad, coming towards him. “Jimin. It’s the portal. To restore the balance, we have to destroy the portal.”

Of course it is. Of course it is! Of course it’s the portal, the open door between the demon realm and this realm, where the demon king keeps walking out demon dick first so even when someone comes to kill him, he just respawns after a set period of time. Makes total sense. It kind feels stupid that Jimin thought it would be the demon king, like the fight would be hard and then it would be over, and maybe some deity would come down and be like wow, Park Jimin, you totally beat the game. Please watch these end credits and consider what you’d like to do next! Of course it wouldn’t be like that.

“How am I even meant to do that?” Jimin asks, feeling his eyes burn with tears. Embarrassing.

“Just swing the sword at it,” Jungkook shrugs. “I’ll help? Seems right.”

Yeah. It does seem right, Jimin just hates it anyway.

“Guys!” Jimin yells, voice watery and stupid sounding but whatever. He looks kind of hot when he cries sometimes. “You have to get out of the castle! I’m gonna destroy the portal, and I think it will bring the place down.”

“You won’t be able to do it on your own,” Namjoon says. He steps forward before he stops, looking between Jungkook and him. “Oh. Jungkook will help.”

“This is it,” Jimin shrugs, feeling hopeless. It’s too short. This whole demon crusade has only been a day at most. If he’d known, crossing the river, that this would be his last day with his friends he might have done things differently. “Jungkook and I are going home.”

Namjoon gapes at them for a second before he schools his expression into something more subdued, lips pressed together in a pained smile. He doesn’t bow. Thankfully he doesn’t bow, Jimin would get mad pissed if he did. But Namjoon looks at him with so much sincerity it’s hard to take it.

“Thank you for everything, Jimin,” Namjoon whispers. “And Jungkook. Both of you are literally changing the world.”

“Like hell you’re leaving just like that,” Taehyung growls, shoving past Namjoon to gather Jimin up in his arms and squeeze him until it hurts, until he can’t breathe. Jimin doesn’t feel so bad crying when Taehyung’s hugging him, with all the ferocious strength of some exotic animal he’s channelling. “One last time?”

“Last time for what?” Jimin manages, but he doesn’t have to wonder long because the next second Taehyung is crushing their mouths together in a gross messy kiss, only pulling away with a laugh when Jungkook shoves him.

“I had to! I’m not gonna be around to make you jealous anymore!” Taehyung protests, looking offended. He pulls Jimin against him one last time and presses a kiss to his forehead, muttering something in a language Jimin doesn’t know.

“You too, big angry baby,” Taehyung says, grabbing Jungkook’s head and tipping it down to kiss his forehead too. “You have to look after Jimin over there. He’s hopeless.”

“Hey!”

“I will,” Jungkook promises him. “Look after Yoongi-hyung for me.”

“I will,” Taehyung says. He gives them both one last smile, shoving Jungkook into Jimin. “Go on then! I’m outta here. Come along, boys. I’m gonna be soooooo sad tonight, someone has to fuck me later.”

Jimin kind of expects Yoongi to come over as well, but he doesn’t. Yoongi just glances at Jimin and looks heavily at Jungkook, nodding slightly. Jungkook’s lip quivers but he bites down on it to hide it as Yoongi turns away.

“And nothing for us?” Seokjin says. “We literally raised you these last few months.”

“Rebuild the kingdom!” Jungkook yells, which seems to startle everyone in the room. Jimin can’t say he’s ever really heard Jungkook raise his voice like that. “Get that council you want! I know you can do it, hyung, you can unite any tavern with a song!”

“And give Hoseok some insane title as well!” Jimin says. “I better never get summoned back to this world again to fix anything! You two are in charge!”

“Park Jimin,” Hoseok sniffles. “You are so perfect.”

“Isn’t he?” Seokjin wipes at his eyes. “Alright, kids. Hyung will fix everything.”

A tremor goes through the building, soot scattering from the ceiling again. “Go!” Jimin shouts, and for once fate is kind to him, a big cloud of dust falling the instant his friends turn their backs so he can’t see them run away.

“Let’s go home, hyung,” Jungkook whispers, wrapping one hand around the pommel of the sword.

And like every time before, Jimin lets the spell blaze to life, runes burning into existence up his arms and over his chest, and this time they even spread to Jungkook, and swings.

And then—everything is gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s an unpleasant whooshing and beeping noise. The air is dry and cool, and his hands feel so weighed down he can barely twitch his fingers. Even his eyes feel sticky and crusty when he blinks them open, staring at the unfamiliar panelled ceiling.

There’s a new sound, and it takes him a while to place it as a door handle turning and a door cracking open. Neat footsteps walking in and the swishing of clothes. Is he—did he get hurt? Is this some infirmary or healer?

Someone gasps, but he can’t turn his head to look. “J-Jeon Jungkook-ssi! You’re awake! I—I’ll page a doctor right now–”

“It’s alright,” someone cuts her off, and Jungkook knows this voice, he’d know this voice anywhere. The steps are much slower and sloppier, and there’s the sound of something being wheeled along with it. A shadow in the corner of his vision, a hand finding his. He steps closer, and Jungkook’s vision is cloudy and not great, but he’d recognise Jimin anywhere, even if he does look gaunt and kind of greasy. “I’m here for him.”

“Hey,” Jungkook manages. He can barely hear his own voice, but he tried. 

Jimin smiles, and it’s just as warm as he’s always been.

 

Notes:

thanks for reading :) happy holidays to my recipient!! i hope you specifically enjoyed. i wish i had the skill to bring out everything the prompt could have been but thank u so much for letting me have a go with it!

special thanks to sharlie for holding my hand and dragging me kicking and screaming thru writing, marie for once again being there for me in my 1000 times of need and finally, to "caramelldansen in another room" edit on youtube. this fic literally would not exist without u.