Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He walks with a storm in his veins and chains on his soul.

Hoseok knows God , he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Every spell carves away pieces of him like old bark peeled from a tree, exposing raw, living flesh beneath. Every ritual pushes him closer to ruin. His sisters would drag him home by the ear if they knew. But luck — or maybe reckless stubbornness — has kept him hidden for fourteen years now. He’s proud of that, in a secret, shame-tinged way. He calls himself a professional at suppression magic. Painful? Excruciating, sometimes. Is it worth it? To Hoseok, yes. To his family.. No, never.

He’s a Jung, after all — the Jung family. One of the last necromancy Nero basilisk witches left in all of Asia. The final ember in Korea. The other two Nero bloodlines live scattered — one hiding in the storm-soaked jungles of the Philippines, another threading ghost-walked temples in Japan.

 Which leads us back to the situation at hand, here we have Jung Hoseok doing the dangerous task, suppressing his magic. In the world we live in now magic is everywhere from the tiniest insect to the largest and most ancient dragon. Once a magician gets old enough to harness and control their magic they can sense other people's magic, feel what they are, leading them to know which clan they are from. And while that sounds great it's dangerous, dangerous for Hoseok and others like him because that's how you get targeted. Every time Hoseok thought he met someone he could trust, someone who wouldn't judge for the type of magic he possessed, it ended up not going the way he hoped. 

So Hoseok has long accepted this truth: Suppression is survival. The world loathes the Nero line — people have slaughtered his kind in ways too monstrous for human tongues. Some days he wonders how such darkness blooms inside ordinary people. How does hatred grow teeth so sharp it can tear open living bodies just to spill a little magic onto the dirt?

So here he is. Twenty-four years old, locked inside his cramped dorm room, curtains drawn tight against the outside world. A candle flickers on his battered desk, dripping dark purple wax onto an old circle of ash and salt. The air tastes of iron and old blood. Hoseok’s voice is steady as he chants, but his hands tremble — fingertips raw from years of rituals that carve the necromancy out of him, drop by drop.

Magic scrapes at the inside of his bones like claws. Some people say they carry demons inside them — metaphorically . Hoseok’s demons were never metaphor. They used to speak to him in soft, comforting murmurs when he was a boy — voices older than his bloodline. Now they sleep behind iron walls he built in his own chest. They don’t knock anymore. He tells himself it’s better that way.

When the last word slips from his lips, the flame flares a sickly green — then dies. The ritual is complete. Suppression holds. The storm inside him quiets to a dull hum, like a monster chained in a basement. Hoseok exhales all the air leaks from him in one ragged sigh. His shoulders droop as exhaustion seeps in, heavy as wet concrete. He wipes sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. A knock rattles his door. Hoseok curses under his breath, scrambling to shove the brass bowl and blackened herbs under his bed. He brushes salt off his jeans, palms stinging from stray embers. He swings the door open just enough to peer out, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how empty he feels.

“Um… y-yes?”

Sunoo, his dorm leader, blinks at him, bright smile, starched shirt. Perfect . “Hey, Hoseok! Just wanted to remind you that orientation’s tomorrow. So don’t get drunk or do anything dumb tonight, yeah?”

Hoseok forces a smile that aches at the corners. “Yes, Sunoo-hyung. Of course.”

Sunoo tilts his head, frowning. “Oh — Hoseok, your nose is bleeding.”

Before Hoseok can answer, Sunoo waves it off with a brisk, “Take care of yourself, okay?” Then he’s gone, footsteps fading down the hall. Hoseok lifts his hand. Crimson stains his fingers. Back-to-back rituals, he thinks, half amused, half hollow. He wipes it away, smearing the proof into his jeans.

~ *~**

By morning, Hoseok’s body felt  like a bus filled with noisy children parked squarely on his spine. Every muscle protests as he drags himself down the winding campus path toward the main building. He wears Jackson’s old sweater soft, oversized, and heavy with the lingering warmth of the hyung’s protective spells stitched secretly into the seams.

“HOBI-AH!”

Hoseok’s heart leaps. He turns — just in time to see Jackson sprinting up the path, hair a tousled mess from the morning wind. Hoseok’s grin unfurls instinctively.

“Hyung!” he squeaks as Jackson pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, rocking him slightly side to side like a favorite plushie.

“Let hyung walk you,” Jackson declares dramatically, ignoring Hoseok’s tiny protests.

“Hyung, your class is the other way…” Hoseok whines, but his voice lacks any real fight. Jackson clutches his chest like a tragic hero.

“And let my baby wander alone on his first day? Absolutely not .”

Hoseok pouts, cheeks puffed out. “I’m not a baby…” he mutters.

Jackson swings an arm over his shoulders, steering him forward through the growing crowd. Students glance at them — some curious, some whispering. Hoseok shifts closer, voice low. “Hyung… they’re staring.”

Jackson snorts. “Let them stare at me, not you. Your hyung’s got you, sunshine.”

If only they knew, the two of them, Nero witches hidden in plain sight, carrying ancient secrets in their veins while pretending to be just another pair of sleepy college boys.

Only Jackson  knows about his suppression rituals — besides his sisters back home, who threaten to show up unannounced every time he lets it slip that he’s still binding himself. They’re the only ones who see the shadows under his eyes and never ask him to open the locked doors in his chest.

Hoseok envies them, sometimes how they wear their magic like crowns, unashamed, fierce. The world spits at them for it, but they stand tall. He wonders if he’ll ever stand that way. Reaching his building, Hoseok bows his head shyly, mumbling, “Thanks, hyung. I’ll see you later, then.”

Jackson opens his mouth to respond — then pauses, eyes flicking toward the old ginkgo tree by the lot entrance. He squints, mouth quirking into a soft, secret smile.

Seconds later, Jackson shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around Hoseok’s shoulders — again. “Here. Hyung will pick you up later. Text me when you’re done, okay?”

Hoseok frowns, tugging at the fabric. “Hyung, I’m not cold.”

Jackson’s grins. “The ginkgo says there’s a storm coming. Bundle up, baby.”

Hoseok’s laughter bubbles up — warm, light. “Okay, okay. I’ll meet you at the lot when I’m done.”

~ *~**

His first chemistry class leaves him with goosebumps — partly from the chill of the lab’s old stone walls, partly from the unsettling collection of skeletons hanging like grim sentries in the corners. He slips into an empty seat near the front, fifteen minutes early, nerves humming under his skin.

Beside him sits a boy, head bowed over his phone, thumbs moving so fast they blur. Hoseok’s fingers twitch. He shouldn't, it's stupid , pointless. But he’s never been good at ignoring the ache for connection.

“Hello!” he blurts. Loudly. Too loudly. Damn.

The boy flinches, eyes wide, phone nearly slipping from his fingers. “Oh! Uh… hi?”

Hoseok’s heart thuds against his ribs. He starts to twist away, mortified — but the boy leans forward instead, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry, I should’ve said hi first. My hyungs always scold me for zoning out.”

Hoseok’s smile returns, shy but bright. “It’s okay. I’m Hoseok.” He sticks out his hand, hoping the tremor in his fingers isn’t obvious.

The boy mirrors his grin, warm and genuine. “Felix. It’s nice to meet you, Hoseok.”

Magic rolls off Felix in gentle waves, wild, bright, faintly sweet. Hoseok recognizes it instantly. Amante clan. Fae-blood. The realization makes his chest tighten and loosen all at once.

They talk through the lull — about classes, dance, food stalls. Small things that feel big to Hoseok’s starved, careful heart.

“Wait — you have evening dance class, right?” Felix perks up. “One of my mates is in that too. He’ll love you. You’ll meet him tonight!”

Hoseok beams. “I’d love that! Ah by the way your voice is so alluring and deep, its beautiful” felix smiled and blushed bashfully “thank you I get it from my mother she also has a rather deep and vivid tone”

When class ends, they slip outside together, laughter echoing off the old campus stone. Hoseok and Felix walked side by side “ so I’ll catch you later then?” Hoseok smiled “yeah definitely” the two waved a goodbye, going their separate ways. As they part ways, Hoseok feels lighter than he has in months.

 Hoseok’s body buzzed as he made his way to the parking lot, he always felt good after making another friend, his friends and family constantly compared him to the sun, always debating on which burns the brightest.

 Stepping outside made Hoseok internally thank Jackson for giving him his jacket because just as the Boitatá said, a storm was quickly forming, the winds picking up speed. Hoseok picked up his pace, sped walking to the parking lot, hoping that Jackson was 

By this time, the storm has come alive — rain hissing through the trees, the wind carrying secrets in its howling. Hoseok’s hair sticks to his forehead  

Jackson’s car pulls up like a warm memory. The passenger window rolls down, and Youngjae’s grin shines through the mist. “Sunshine! Come here before you catch a cold!”

Hoseok giggles, dashing through puddles. The doors click open, arms pull him inside, and warmth replaces the chill. Jackson’s voice hums through the soft drum of rain on the roof.

“How was it, baby?”

Hoseok’s eyes sparkle, recounting Felix, the laughter, the promise of new friends. He doesn’t say he felt his magic twitch awake when he danced. He doesn’t say the chains slipped, just a little. He sometimes felt bad that his friends spoiled him so much, always buying stuff for him and driving him around, never wanting anything in return. And every time he tried to repay them by maybe taking them to eat or buying them something such as a nice sweater it would always backfire when he would go to pay the bill only to find out someone just so happened to anonymously pay for it or whenever he would get back home after dropping off his gifts for the coven would have gifts waitings for him. Whenever he would confront them they would just feign innocence, leaving Hoseok pouting, only for them to cuddle him to death eventually making him giggle and in a bright mood For tonight, he just lets them spoil him — warm, safe, One day, he promises himself, he’ll stop hiding. One day, the world will see his darkness and his light — and love him anyway. 

For now, the storm outside rages — and inside, he lets himself rest.

Chapter Text

~*~**

The moment Hoseok stepped through the tall studio doors, a hush of magic brushed over him soft, electric, tingling along his skin like cold mist rolling through candlelight. The place was alive with it: stray sparks drifting through the air like fireflies that only others like him could feel. Not overpowering — which meant there weren’t too many magical beings here tonight but enough to prickle the sensitive edge of his senses.

He hoped none of them would start something. He’d seen it happen before, whispers, sideways glances, the way some people couldn’t hide the sour curl of their lips when a Nero witch stepped too close to their circle. Hoseok’s chest tightened. He forced himself to roll his shoulders back, a small sunbeam in human form despite the shadows clinging to his lineage. He wouldn’t let them ruin tonight or give Jackson Hyung more reasons to worry.

He ducked into the changing room, fingers trembling slightly as he swapped his sweater for his loose black dance tee. When he stepped out, the heavy scent of pine and faint frankincense still clung to him, lingering traces of the wards Jackson stitched into his clothes whenever Hoseok went somewhere new.

On the polished wood floor, bodies bent and flexed in quiet concentration. Music hummed through the mirrors, a soft, pulsing beat that vibrated in his ribs. Hoseok felt excitement coil inside him like a sprout pushing through cold soil — his own tiny magic that he could never truly kill, only hush.

He caught sight of his hyungs tucked into the far corner near the wall of neatly lined bags. Jackson leaned back against the mirror, arms crossed but eyes warm. Youngjae, all soft edges and quiet watchfulness, sat on a folded blanket, sketching protective runes into the air so quickly only Hoseok’s trained eye could spot them. Knowing they were here calmed the itch under Hoseok’s skin.

He turned toward the wide mirror, ready to stretch out the nerves in his muscles — when a bright voice sliced through the gentle hum of the room.

“ Hyung !”

Hoseok’s head snapped up just in time to see Felix, all sunlit grin and flailing limbs — half-dragging another boy behind him. Hoseok’s laugh burst out before he could bite it back. Felix’s feet tangled with the blonde boy’s and they nearly toppled sideways, a frantic scramble of arms and curses.

Hoseok stepped forward, catching San by the wrist just before he dragged the other boy down with him. He pulled Felix into a hug instead, warm laughter bubbling up his throat.

“You really should come with a warning sign,” Hoseok giggled against Felix’s shoulder. “Trip hazard ahead!”

The blonde boy gasped dramatically, tugging on Felix’s arm like a scolding cat. “See? He gets it! We tell him every day, but does he listen? Nooo, it’s always ‘I’m perfectly balanced,’ then bam — he’s hugging the floor again!”

Felix huffed, nose scrunching up. “Anyway, Hyung — this is Lee Know, my coven mate I told you about. Though at this point, I’m thinking of abandoning him and just eloping with you instead.”

Hoseok’s laughter rang brighter this time, warmth pooling in his cheeks. Lee Know’s jaw dropped, scandalized, before he jabbed a finger at Felix’s side. “ Excuse me? Do I look like I’d let you run off with my new favorite Hyung? Not happening.”

Felix gasped, clutching Lee Know’s arm for dramatic effect as Hoseok wheezed, shaking his head at the ridiculous pair. Just being near them made the tension in his shoulders dissolve — like stepping into sunlight after too long in the cold.

~*~**

Across the room, Jimin froze mid-stretch, the hum of his own magic sparking wild and hot at the base of his spine. It tugged at him insistently — a silken thread snapping taut, pulling him toward the door. He closed his eyes, trying to swallow the rush that made his palms sweat and his heart hammer like wings trapped in a jar.

“You good, Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice cut through the static, warm and grounding. He hovered close, always half a step behind when Jimin’s magic got temperamental.

“Yeah, I just—” Jimin’s answer withered on his tongue the moment he heard Felix’s voice echo across the polished floor — then another laugh, soft and ringing like a silver bell.

Hoseok’s laugh.

And then it hit him.

A wave of heat, the raw pulse of mine , magic tearing through the careful walls inside him. It slammed into Jimin’s gut so hard his knees nearly buckled. His breath punched out in a strangled moan, head dropping as he curled over himself, clutching his stomach.

Jungkook caught him before he could hit the ground, eyes wide, panic clear in the rigid set of his shoulders. “Hyung! What the— are you—”

Jimin barely heard him. His magic lunged from his skin like a beast, searching, seeking the boy with the sunbeam smile and the quiet, hidden shadows. It coiled through the studio like smoke, brushing against Hoseok’s aura, tasting it, a gentle, greedy touch.

A whimper broke from Jimin’s lips, body shivering with the force of it. His cheeks burned, nails biting into Jungkook’s shirt as the tension snapped through him like a coiled wire. “Kook… I—I’m gonna—”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He dragged Jimin toward the hall, barely managing to slip them into the bathroom before Jimin crashed into him — lips bruising, hands tangled in hair, teeth grazing desperate skin. Magic flared between them like a live wire, humming through the tiny tiled room.

“Let it go, baby. I got you — let it go.” Jungkook’s voice was warm, steady, even as the storm inside Jimin broke like a dam bursting. Jimin withered and thrashed, his chest rising and falling as he came, eyes blurring till all he saw was black.

When it passed, Jimin sagged against the sink, panting, face flushed and eyes glassy. Jungkook pressed a palm to his cheek, thumb brushing sweat-slick skin.

“Hyung… what was that?”

Jimin could only shake his head, voice hoarse and trembling with wonder. “That’s him. That’s the last one.”

~*~**

Back in the studio, Jimin and Jungkook lingered at the far end, stretching half-heartedly as they watched the boy who’d cracked open a locked door inside Jimin’s chest without even trying. Hoseok, who laughed so freely with Felix and Lee Know, face bright enough to make the old studio lights look dim.

“That’s him,” Jimin murmured, lips brushing the rim of his water bottle. “My sixth. The last piece to our puzzle."

Jungkook hummed low in his throat, following Jimin’s gaze. “Think he’s human?”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, magic flickering at the edges of his vision like motes of silver dust. “No magic signature. He’s too quiet. Could be human. Could be… something else.”

“Want me to dig?” Jungkook offered, casual but already hungry for a hunt.

Jimin shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s watch. Feel him out. We’ll know soon enough.”

Across the room, Jackson caught Jimin’s stare and returned it with a cool, deliberate calm — a warning, a promise, and a shield all in one look. Next to him, Youngjae’s fingers flickered in silent protection runes that faded the second they touched the air. Jimin would have walked over to the group if it wasn’t for those two guys in the far corner full on glaring at anyone who stared at Hoseok any longer than a second . Those two clearly meant business, outside they looked kind, inviting even. But Jimin could tell, he could tell those two were dangerous and all it entailed 

Hoseok didn’t see it. He just leaned into his hyungs’ warmth when they approached, let Jackson ruffle his hair and Youngjae cup his cheeks like a child cherished beyond measure. The sight twisted something deep in Jimin’s ribs — envy, longing, the primal echo of mine . Jungkook squinted his eyes “you think they're part of a coven? Jimin sighed switching the legs he was stretching “for everyone's sake we better hope not”

When they get home that night, the storm is in full fury. The rain lashes the dorm windows like claws, wind howling through the gaps in the old frames. Hoseok curls up in the corner of Jackson’s room, wrapped in a too-big blanket, hair damp and cheeks pink 

Jinyoung fusses around the tiny kitchenette, humming softly under his breath as he prepares hot cocoa — his version of an ancient protection chant disguised as comfort. Hoseok  sprawled half across JayB’s lap on the couch, ranting a mile a minute while Jackson half-listened, half-watched the ward's pulse gently in the corners of the room.

“—And then, Hyung, I swear we almost fell because Felix tripped on Lee Know’s foot but it was Felix’s fault even though he blamed Lee Know and—”

JayB chuckled, carding gentle fingers through Hoseok’s soft hair. “Sunshine, breathe. One story at a time.”

When Jinyoung finally settles down beside them, pressing a steaming mug into Hoseok’s cold hands, the world outside feels a little softer.

“Hyung’s the best,” Hoseok murmurs, voice muffled by the blanket. He blows on the cocoa and takes a careful sip, warmth blooming down to his chest.

Jinyoung nudges his knee under the blanket. “You did good today. Made a new friend, didn’t you?”

Hoseok hummed and nodded happily with a bright smile covering his face, cream from the hot coco framing his smile 

Youngjae hums, flipping a page in his book sitting across from Hoseok. “Amante coven kids. Mischievous lot. Good hearts, though. You chose well, sunshine.”

Hoseok feels it then — that quiet pride in Youngjae’s voice, Jackson’s protective warmth at his side. For a moment he lets himself sink into it, lets the exhaustion unravel the knot of tension behind his ribs. Jinyoung smiled “yes good job indeed but just be careful sunshine” 

Hoseok’s pout deepened — then bloomed into another grin. “It was perfect though! And now we can plan a coven picnic — yours, Yeonjun’s, and Felix’s coven too! Imagine it, Hyung — everyone together!”

“You cant rush a bond sunshine” JayB chided making Hoseok pout in return “I know Hyung im just really excited I really like Felix and Lee Know and  just know I'll like the rest of their coven” Hoseok exclaimed. “Those boys did seem really nice and I think Yeonjuns coven would think so well so I can see a bond forming in the future” Youngjaee agreed Hoseok perked up happily “I knew you felt it Hyung” Hoseok said joyfully.

Later, after too much cocoa and sleepy laughter, they shoo him back to his dorm with a promise to walk him to class tomorrow. The hallways are quiet when Hoseok slips inside his tiny spare  room; they keep from him he’s sad he couldn't see the rest of the coven including his sister but they were waiting the storm out and he did have to be up early for class, but hopefully would catch them in the morning

But as he changes into fresh clothes and brushes his teeth, the hum in his chest returns — a low, hungry vibration behind his sternum, like something pacing just behind a door. He tries to ignore it, tries to pretend it’s just leftover magic from the ritual earlier, a phantom ache that will fade if he sleeps.

He curls up in bed, pulling the blanket over his head to shut out the storm’s flickering shadows on the walls. But sleep doesn’t come easy tonight. The voices that used to comfort him,the ones he locked away so carefully, stir just beyond reach. They don’t speak. They press , like fingers tapping on glass, testing the cracks.

‘Let us out.’

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter. No.

“We are you. You are us.”

Hoseok bites the inside of his cheek until the taste of copper pushes the whispers back into the dark. His body shudders once, a tremor that feels too much like a warning, before exhaustion drags him down into uneasy sleep.

~*~**

He dreams of the forest. Not the neat campus paths or the tidy park near the dorms, but the real forest , the one older than Seoul itself, older than human memory. Branches weave together so thick they smother the moonlight, yet everything glows faintly, like breath on glass.

He’s barefoot, toes sinking into moss damp with silver dew. Somewhere deeper, water trickles — a river he knows but has never seen. The air hums with old magic, restless and awake.

He moves through the trees, drawn by a pull in his chest, the same pulse that once guided him when he first spoke with the spirits, when the voices called him keeper .

When he reaches a clearing, he sees it: a figure kneeling in the mud, head bowed, robes dark as spilled ink. The figure lifts its face and Hoseok gasps.

It’s him. But not him.

This other-Hoseok looks the same , same dark hair, same soft eyes — but there’s no fear in them, no caution. Instead, they burn like lanterns in a cave. His double stands, mud dripping from his sleeves, and when he speaks, his voice echoes like ten thousand distant whispers layered over each other.

“Stop burying us.”

Hoseok steps back, heart pounding. “I… I can’t — I have to—”

The other-Hoseok tilts his head, a smile tugging at cracked lips. “So you’d rather be hollow? A pretty doll in borrowed skin? Let them cut you down piece by piece until there’s nothing left but salt and ash?”

Lightning cracks above the canopy — the clearing floods with silver light. Hoseok staggers back, hands raised as if he could ward himself from his own reflection.

“I’m protecting them!” he shouts, throat raw even in the dream. “I’m protecting me —”

The other him laughs — a sound that rattles the branches. “No. You’re starving us. And the bones know hunger better than anything.”

He reaches out, fingers ghosting over Hoseok’s chest and Hoseok feels it then: the weight, the pressure of everything he’s locked away pressing against the door inside him. The seal quivers like old glass about to shatter.

“Soon,” the other says, voice soft now, almost loving. “Soon, little keeper. And when you break, we will feast.”

Hoseok jerks awake — cold sweat gluing his shirt to his back, breath tearing in and out of his lungs like knives. The storm has passed, leaving only the soft patter of rain against his window.

But inside his chest, the storm is just beginning.

Chapter Text

There were plenty of people in Hoseok’s world. He had his parents,their touchstones of routine love and his Noona Jiwoo, always the quiet backbone at his side. He had Yeonjun’s coven and the Im coven and a handful of human friends who knew just enough about his warmth to orbit him but never enough to see the shadows under his skin. He had acquaintances, smiles exchanged in cafes and passing nods on campus.

So no, Hoseok wasn’t lonely. But too much time away from his Isla Noona left him raw, as if his magic turned fragile in her absence, like paper left in the rain. She was his reason, the steady hush in his veins when the world roared too loud. Her voice alone could unknot the panic coiled under his ribs, her laugh could drag him from the blackest corners of himself.

Others brushed it off when he tried to explain it. They said they understood that Isla had charmed them too when they first met her, or that they felt the same about their own siblings. But they didn’t. They couldn’t. Because they hadn’t met Isla like he had. Not at a lazy playdate in a flower garden. Not over a cup of sugary tea in some safe city café.

No, Hoseok met Isla when the doorway between this life and the next was cracked open and death’s cold fingers nearly pulled them both through.

Hoseok was five the night it happened. Too small to carry fear properly, so it pooled in his chest like cold water instead.

He remembered the slam of the front door, the way it rattled the whole house awake. The smell of old blood, sharp and iron-rich, swept in with the winter wind. His mother’s voice was the sharpest thing he’d ever heard. “Quickly! Put them on the table!”

Hoseok flinched where he stood, small and pajama-clad behind his sister’s thin frame. Jiwoo’s hand slipped into his instinctively squeezing tight enough that he could feel her heartbeat in her palm.

He peeked around her shoulder. Two children, a boy and a girl, close to his age, maybe younger, lay limp across the wide wooden table where his mother usually brewed potions and fussed over herbs. Their skin was dark, gold brown, but drained pale where blood smeared it, hair white as snow tangled with leaves and dirt. Their small chests barely moved.

His father’s voice was sharp but trembling. “Jiwoo — bring Daddy his kit. Now.” Jiwoo stumbled, nearly tripping over a crate of old candles, but she obeyed. Hoseok felt the air change as she ran — the whole room humming with raw, frantic magic.

His mother paced in tight circles. Her trembling hands smeared blood across her dress as she dialed a phone over and over, only to slam it down with a sob when no one answered. Hoseok watched her lips move soundlessly. Prayers? spells? He didn’t know.

When Jiwoo returned, clutching their father’s worn leather bag with trembling arms, Hoseok saw the tears on her cheeks, twin tracks glistening under the kitchen’s cold lantern light.

“Jaeyoung. Jaeyoung. JA-EYOUNG!” His father grabbed his mother by the shoulders, his own eyes glossy and rimmed red. “No one’s coming. Jae… No one is going to help us.”

The words felt like a door slamming shut in Hoseok’s ribs. He clutched Jiwoo’s sleeve as their mother’s knees nearly buckled. “We have to do this alone. For the children.”

When his mother’s gaze snapped to them, her grief was a knife. But her voice was iron. “Take your brother upstairs.”

Jiwoo didn’t argue. She just tugged Hoseok’s small hand and dragged him up the stairs, each step squeaking under their bare feet while muffled voices tangled with the bubbling hiss of potionwork below.

They curled together on Jiwoo’s bed, a fortress of blankets that didn’t keep the fear out. Jiwoo’s arms wrapped tight around Hoseok’s tiny body, her thumb tracing circles over his ear the way their mother did when nightmares came.

“Sleep, Hoseokie,” she whispered, voice shaking. She hummed an old lullaby, but it cracked in places, splintered under the weight of the storm brewing downstairs.

Hoseok’s breath shivered in his throat. “Noona… are those kids gonna be okay? They had lots of oweis …” His voice small.

There was a pause. Jiwoo’s hand stilled against his hair. Then she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I don’t know, sunshine. I don’t know.”

He tried. He really did. But the air downstairs pulsed with so much magic that it kept his eyes wide open. It tasted sharp in the back of his throat sour like burnt herbs and copper. When the first scream ripped through the house his mother’s voice, raw and feral Hoseok bolted upright, heart slamming against his ribs like a bird against glass.

Jiwoo’s eyes were wide mirrors. Another scream. Then a wave of his mother’s magic slammed into them, usually warm as sunlight on skin, now jagged, fractured, bleeding grief and rage up the stairwell like poison smoke.

They didn’t speak. They just crept to the hallway, feet silent on the old wood floors, and slipped down the stairs to stand at the threshold of the room that smelled like iron and old flowers. Something was pulling him

And that’s where he met Isla.

The Im coven’s house still felt like stepping straight into a spell for peace thick and sweet like sinking into a giant warm marshmallow. The air was lush with scents of honey and herbs, baking bread and incense smoke curling through hanging ivy.

“ Mmm. ” Hoseok paused just at the bottom of the staircase, eyes fluttering shut, lungs filling with the scent. “Is Jinyoung Hyung cooking?”

The house, a wide three-story sprawl just a stone’s throw from campus, pulsed with quiet life. Plants coiled up the banisters, roses and trailing pothos and giant potted trees that seemed to lean closer whenever Jackson whispered to them.

Before Hoseok could slip his shoes off, a shriek of mock outrage sliced through the hall.

“ Yah! Is that my baby brother ”

Hoseok cracked one eye open just in time to see Isla, glorious, dramatic Isla — swan down the stairs in a flurry of silk robe and clinking charms. He barely had time to brace before she swept him into her arms, crushing him against her chest. Even in the tired mornings her beauty was relentless, her chocolate brown skin and the white curls framing her face was like a painting you would stand for hours and stare at, her grey eyes pierced your soul as if they could see you and the world beyond.

Hoseok cracked one eye open just in time to see Isla — glorious, dramatic Isla — swan down the stairs in a flurry of silk robe and clinking charms. He barely had time to brace before she swept him into her arms, crushing him against her chest.

“Noona,” Hoseok mumbled into her shoulder, rolling his eyes as she pinched at his cheeks until they went pink. “I’m not a baby.”

“You’re my baby. Suffer.” Isla pressed a loud kiss to his forehead before finally letting him breathe. Hoseok huffed, but the warmth settled under his skin like a balm.

They drifted to the dining table where Jinyoung and JB were already fussing with plates, steam rising from trays of fresh rice and glazed meats. Jackson leaned against the wall, exchanging conspiratorial nods with Youngjae.

“So, sunshine, how was class yesterday?” Isla asked as they settled in, her voice softer now, gentle as fingers carding through tangled hair.

Hoseok’s whole face lit up, the day tumbling out of him in bright, stumbling bursts — about Felix, about Lee Know, about shared classes and inside jokes already blooming like shy wildflowers. Isla’s smile curved, warmth curling around her eyes as she leaned her chin into her palm, listening.

Mark, setting down bowls, chimed in when Hoseok paused to breathe: “Of course you made friends, Hobi. You’re our little sunbeam — who wouldn’t want to bask in your light?”

Hoseok ducked his head, ears pink. But the hush of affection at the table pressed close — warm, real, a weight that steadied him in a world that always felt ready to crack his bones open for what lived in his veins.

When he mentioned the idea of a hive, his voice, bright with hope, the

 air tightened. JB’s eyes flicked to Isla. Isla’s lips parted, confusion shading her smile. Hoseok felt the tension, like a door clicking shut.

JB’s voice was firm, but not unkind: “Hobi. No pushing. A hive is not something we jump into because we’re excited. Understand? ”

Hoseok pouted, but the edge of his sulk softened under JB’s calm gravity. He knew better than to push. He knew what it cost to bring one family into another — the trust it took to thread their magic together and hold it tight.

So he just sighed, muttering, “Yes, Hyung.”

The tension lifted like fog when the talk shifted. giggles over Bambam’s bad jokes, Yugyeom pretending to pout at Hoseok’s teasing.

Later, when Bambam leaned over, grin sharp as moonlight, and whispered, “Wanna go ride Yugyeom in his hellhound form through the forest?” Hoseok’s whole face split into a grin so wide his cheeks hurt.

Moments later, the three of them tried to sneak out, giggling, shoes half-tied — only to freeze when Mark’s voice cracked through the hall like thunder: “Yah!”

They turned, guilty as kittens caught stealing cream. Mark just sighed, pressing a palm to his forehead. “Be back before ten. Don’t test me.”

“Got it!” they chorused, laughter echoing out the door behind them as they vanished into the dusk, into the trees where magic hummed low under moonlight.

This was Hoseok’s real heartbeat — the laughter, the warmth, the stolen moments under the watchful dark. The family who kept him whole. The reason he stayed soft, even when the world would rather he turn hard as stone.

“Hyung, I kid you not — I felt it.” Jimin’s voice cracked sharp like a flint striking stone, flaring in the quiet kitchen. The scent of dish soap floated between them, mingling with the faint hum of protective wards stitched into the walls, old magic that knew when to hush and listen.

Seokjin only sighed the third time that night, a weary little breath that misted against the kitchen window, already fogged by steam. He turned from the sink, fingers dripping sudsy water, half a plate still in his hands. “Look, Jimin-ah I’m not saying you didn’t feel something,” Jin said gently, eyes soft “but are you sure it’s who you think it is?”

The question made Jimin’s heart drop like a stone into cold water. He frowned, lips parting as if the right words might slip free if he didn’t hold them back. “What do you mean by that, Hyung?” His voice was smaller now, petulant and raw at the same time — a boy and an ancient thing both tangled up in silk skin.

Jin rinsed his hands off, letting the plate clatter softly in the sink. When he turned, the overhead light caught on the faint golden seam of his clan’s sigil at his collarbone a caretaker’s mark, the shape of a protective vow etched in centuries of blood and blessing. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter, pinning Jimin with a gaze too knowing to bear.

“You said you didn’t feel any magic from him, right?” Jin’s tone was patient but edged with a quiet challenge. Jimin’s nod came quick, defensive. Firm. Certain or pretending to be.

“Well…” Jin cocked his head, voice dipping lower. “You and I both know it’s harder ,  damn near impossible to form a true mate bond with a human if you haven’t had any real contact. Proximity, yes, but actual touch , a breath shared, a look held too long. And you and Jungkook’s story…” Jin’s smile was gentle but there was steel under it. “You didn’t get close enough for your magic to do what you claim it did. So how, hmm? How does a bond spark that deep, that hungry with so little?”

Jimin’s mouth opened, but the answer caught in his throat, splintering like glass under his ribs. The truth was — he didn’t know. And that terrified him more than Jin’s quiet logic ever could.

He felt it though — god , did he feel it. That flare in his chest when the boy’s laughter spun around the dance room, when his magic slipped out like greedy smoke and tried to touch him, wrap him up, keep him. It felt like being starved for centuries only to be fed sunlight for the first time.

But the logic, Jin’s logic — pressed cold and heavy against the heat in his belly, against the want that made his fingertips itch, made his lips burn like they’d already kissed him somewhere in a dream.

He hated that Jin was right. Hated that the bond didn’t make sense . Bonds always made sense. The Amante clan understood these things — they taught him how to tend them like living threads. But this one? This was a thread snared in the dark, knotted around a boy with no magic to call his own.

Or did he?

A spark flickered behind Jimin’s eyes — stubborn, wicked. He straightened, defiance blooming where doubt had lived a breath ago. Maybe the boy didn’t know. Maybe he hid it — the way some witches do, the way magic sometimes curls small and secret when it fears the world will burn it for daring to live.

Huffing, Jimin turned on his heel. The wards along the kitchen door shivered at his passing, sensing the spike of his resolve. Jin watched him go, a wry little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, exasperated, fond, afraid all at once.

“Jimin-ah—” he called, half warning, half plea.

But Jimin didn’t look back. His pulse was a war drum now. His mouth still tingled with the phantom taste of a kiss he hadn’t had yet — but would . He could almost feel that boy’s laugh pressed warm against his throat, soft and close.

He was theirs. Jimin’s magic knew it. His heart knew it. And he’d tear the veil of every careful rule apart to prove it.

He was going to bring him home . One way or another.

Chapter Text

~**~

Jimin thinks he might have an addiction. The signs are all there — the restless way his fingers drum on any surface if he hasn’t gotten his fix , the way his magic aches like a pulled muscle, raw and twitching under his skin whenever it doesn’t brush up against that particular pulse of light.

His poison of choice isn’t whiskey, or the silken slow burn of an enchantment flower, or the heady thrum of an illicit charm under the tongue. No — Park Jimin’s worst indulgence is a boy who laughs too easily, glows too bright, who dances as if the world might break if he stops moving.

Hoseok is everything Jimin’s life should have held all along — warmth, softness, light. But the twist of it all? Hoseok is also what Jimin can’t ever seem to have — not fully. Not yet.

“Hyung, I don’t get why you don’t just talk to him like a normal person,” Jungkook whispered, hissing between clenched teeth as a branch cracked under his knee. Leaves rustled around them, bushes trembling like they too were embarrassed for the two witches crouched behind them. “People are gonna think we’re weird , you know — sitting here peeking our heads up like rabbits every five seconds—”

“Shhh!” Jimin hissed, pressing his palm to Jungkook’s mouth for good measure. His eyes flicked back to the courtyard beyond the hedgerow. There, under the shade of an old magnolia, Hoseok stood in the late afternoon sun, head tilted back, throat bare as he laughed at something Bambam said. The sound carried like wind chimes over water — teasing, impossible to catch. Jimin’s magic strained inside him, fluttering like a trapped bird.

“It’s safer this way,” he murmured, voice low and tight. His thumb still lingered at Jungkook’s lips, but he didn’t notice. His eyes were caught on the soft curve of Hoseok’s jaw, the shine in his eyes when he smiled so wide his nose scrunched up. Addict , his mind whispered.

“ Safer? ” Jungkook mumbled around Jimin’s fingers.

Jimin nodded, tearing his gaze away for just a moment. “See those three around him?” He tipped his chin at the cluster of shadows circling Hoseok — protective, watchful. Bambam’s magic flickered like wildfire, warm but fierce. Jackson’s presence was heavier — a dark, quiet growl at the edges. And Jaebeom? He was a warding sigil come alive — carved into flesh and bone, daring anyone to try their luck.

Jungkook squinted, then flinched when one of them — Jackson, he thought — turned slightly, catching his eyes through the leaves. Even from here, Jungkook could feel the static snap of warding magic. “Okay… so they don’t like us?”

“They don’t like me ,” Jimin sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “Every time I get within ten feet, Jaebeom’s magic spikes like a blade. I swear Jackson tried to hex me with his eyes alone.”

“So… your master plan is to… spy ?”

Jimin turned back to the courtyard. Hoseok was closer now, moving toward the gates with a little skip in his step, bag swinging off one shoulder. He looked so heartbreakingly soft — hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists, hair a little mussed, lips curved in a half-smile like he’d heard a secret joke only he knew.

Jimin’s throat felt dry. “No. My plan is to wait until the time is right . If they see me coming at him too fast, they’ll shut him away like they did the last time—”

Jungkook only sighed, leaning back on his haunches, bramble snagging at his hoodie. “So. How long do we stake out your… sunshine? Days? Weeks? You gonna hide in the bushes when it snows, too?”

Jimin ignored him — his eyes glued to Hoseok’s retreating form, the little bounce in his step, the flicker of magic that trailed him like stardust.

Magic Theory was Hoseok’s favorite class by far. He knew it sounded cliché — a Nero boy, so cut off from the living archives of magic, practically giddy to sit under fluorescent lights and copy notes from dusty textbooks. But for Hoseok, this was a cathedral. Every sentence the professor uttered felt like a puzzle piece being slipped into a place that had waited centuries to be whole.

He found his seat near the middle, careful not to bump anyone’s bag with his own. The classroom smelled faintly of ink and cedar. He found his seat near the middle, careful not to bump anyone’s bag with his own. The classroom smelled faintly of ink and cedar.

“Alright everyone, settle down…” Professor Lee’s voice carried easy authority. Hoseok straightened, pencil poised, eyes wide and bright.

Hoseok quietly took out his pencil and notebook, ready to take notes "today we will be starting with the introduction to magic theory, now can anyone tell me what this section will consist of?" The professor looked around the room for willing participants choosing to call on a girl in the far back who's hand was raised

 "yes, Hajoon go ahead"

 "this section will include the introduction to each clan and their history?" 

Professor Lee clapped his hands together, nodding his head simultaneously "yes over the week we will get to know each clan, how they are grouped and their history" the professor walked over to the board and picked up a stick of chalk, writing on the board Gyógyító clan, Amante clan, Cambio clan, Nero clan; in that order.

Hoseok couldn't help but squirm, seeing his clan up on the board, immediately feeling like everyone was looking at him. Hoseok brushed the dark feeling away and jotted what was on the board onto his notebook

"Please turn to page 48 in your textbooks"

Hoseok, along with his classmates turned to page 48 in their textbooks, the title of the textbook reading "Four clan classifications and history"

 "among magical beings, there are four clans with their own characteristics and history. First is the Gyógyító clan, Amante clan, Cambio clan, and Nero clan; this is the power pyramid of the four clans"

 Hoseok's lips pursed at his professor's words, deep within him he felt a whirlpool of displeasure well inside him. The three clans were indeed powerful, especially the Gyógyító clan, but to say they were more powerful than his own clan made his tongue turn bitter.

 "Decades ago when kings still ruled the world, the four clans ruled their own empires, everyone was under their rule the Amante clan rules the east, Cambio clan the west, Gyógyító clan the north and Nero clan the south, now before I move on can anybody tell me what the in-between was" several students raised their hands, the Professor deciding to call on a blond-haired student in the very front. 

"The in-between was vast areas in which magical creatures roamed"

 professor Lee smiled at the blond with a nod of his head "yes, correct; each clan has native creatures that are essentially tied to them. The northeast belongs to Amante creatures, there you can find renowned creatures such as the Kraken, nine tailed foxes, and Mngwa, these are creatures ruled by the Amante clan" Hoseok jotted down the information in his notes, separating the things he did and didn't already know.

 "The Kraken, a sea creature of tremendous size and strength. It was born from the titans Oceanus and Ceto, both entities of the sea. Its tentacles are large enough to be able to pull entire ships under the water and destroy cities with relative ease. The Kraken is known to have a real nasty temper which can only be calmed by an Amante clan member" 

the class whispered as the professor turned on the projector, a picture of a full-grown Kraken appearing on the screen, sitting on a shore next to what Hoseok would assume to be an Amante clan member.

 "Nine-tailed foxes are extremely destructive, intelligent  and are able to conjure what is called "foxfire" while they are beautiful one should never get close to one unless an Amante clan member who possesses one allows you" Hoseok was mesmerized by the creature on the screen he could only dream of ever seeing one in person.

 "Last but not least The Mngwa, also known as the Nunda is a feline creature the size of an adult donkey, with unique abilities. The Mngwa has the gift of invisibility and the prowess in sneak attacks"

the class was awed at the beautiful creature on the screen, its white and black striped fur with its brilliant green and blue eyes.

“The northwest belongs to creatures ruled by the Gyógyító clan, there you could find Griffins, Phoenixes and Caladrius, Griffins are of great strength, power and knowledge, they represent courage and great leadership, you will come to find out that many of our world leader who are of the Gyógyító clan are in possession of a Griffin”

 Griffins are one of the creatures Hoseok has heard about growing up, as a little boy he dreamt of seeing one someday but even then he knew how cold the creatures were to those besides their masters. 

“Phoenixes, an immortal large bird. The phoenix represents kindness and grace, they are intelligent and incredibly strong; their tears also have healing capabilities” one of the students in the middle section next to Hoseok raised their hand, 

“yes, you have a question?”

" Yes, aren’t Phoenixes low in numbers?” Professor Lee nodded his head “yes that is true Phoenixes are low in numbers which is why they are very protected by the Gyógyító even other clans have laws and rules in place concerning them”

 “so like an endangered species?”

 “yes very much like an endangered species”  the professor clarified, Hoseok along with the other students jotted that in their notes, that could be in one of their tests. 

“Now lastly the Caladrius, the Caladrius is a beautiful snow-white bird that represents good health and safety. They are able to detect when someone is hurt or sick even if the sickness is in its very early stages, in ancient times It is said to be able to take the sickness into itself and then fly away, dispersing the sickness and healing both itself and the sick person. they would reside in the king's house for this reason.” 

Hoseok smiled at the screen, he recognized the creature on the screen all too well, the Caladrius was Jaebeom's spirit animal. 

He remembers all the times the bird would swoop down and peck on his head every time he, Yugyeom, or Bambam would come back to the coven injured, or all the times the bird would sit on Jb-Hyungs shoulder and whistle in his ear, in which Jb would run the store to get cold medicine for him when he didn’t even realize he was sick yet.

"Alright that's it for today we'll pick up where we left off tomorrow have a wonderful evening" 

Hoseok sighed, picking up his things, he couldn't wait to tell his Hyung's about his day.

He headed for the building’s exit, sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor — but he froze halfway down the hall when something inside him twisted. A shiver of magic raced up his spine like icy fingers. It pulsed under his skin, wanting out . He pressed a palm to his chest, tried to steady his breath — not here, not now, stay calm, stay soft, stay—

Then his eyes lifted, pulled by an invisible tether — and they caught.

Across the lobby, haloed in the gold spill of the setting sun through high windows, stood a boy with hair the color of peonies just after rain. Pink, soft, glowing around his temples where the light hit. Hoseok’s lungs stuttered — the boy was beautiful . Too beautiful. Not real.

But what really did him in was the way the boy was looking right back at him — like Hoseok was a secret he’d been dying to find.

And then he moved. Steps light, eyes locked on Hoseok’s. Each footfall seemed to echo too loud in Hoseok’s ears, like the world had gone still just to watch them collide.

“ Hi! ”

The word popped the world back into motion. Hoseok blinked, shoulders jerking like he’d forgotten he had a body. The boy — Jimin , his mind offered, for no reason at all — was standing right in front of him now. Up close, he was somehow worse — or better — than Hoseok could process. Smooth skin, lashes too long, lips a soft pink like bitten fruit.

Hoseok’s throat clicked dryly when he tried to swallow. His magic was fizzing like soda shaken too hard, crawling along his neck, his fingertips. He fought not to tremble.

The boy — Jimin, Jimin, Jimin — tilted his head, smiling like he already knew Hoseok’s answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet. “My name’s Park Jimin,” he said, voice sweet and airy, a softness that belied the steady heat in his dark eyes. “Sorry if this is a bad time, but… I couldn’t help but notice you.”

Hoseok’s mouth fell open before he could stop it. Notice me? He felt a laugh bubble up, strangled halfway by the panic climbing his chest. He was suddenly too aware of how he must look — cheeks pink, sweat beading at his hairline, eyes wide like a startled deer.

“M-me?” He croaked, immediately wanting to smack himself for how squeaky he sounded.

And Jimin — the audacity — giggled. Actually giggled, high and airy and wickedly pretty. Hoseok’s knees nearly gave out. That’s what angels sound like, he thought wildly, dazed.

“Yes, you, silly.” Jimin’s voice dipped as he leaned in, just a breath closer. Hoseok could smell him now — sweet, warm, like cinnamon and sun-warmed linen. Unfair. “Your name’s Hoseok, right?”

Hoseok’s head jerked up so fast he nearly head-butted him. “H-how do you know my name?” He hated how his voice wavered. His magic pulsed again, hotter now, pressing at the edges of his ribs, desperate to burst free. Sweat slid down the back of his neck. He needed to get out of here, needed to get home before he did something stupid, like let his magic spill in a hallway full of humans and enchantresses with sharp eyes.

Jimin’s cheeks pinked. He ducked his head, fingers brushing his own throat like he needed to steady himself. “Well… my mate and I have seen you around. For a while, actually.”

Mate? Hoseok’s brain short-circuited for a beat. Mate ? His eyes snapped to where Jimin flicked his chin — down the corridor where the light broke around a tall figure leaning against the stone archway.

Hoseok’s stomach dropped right to his shoes. The boy standing there looked like every bad idea Hoseok had ever daydreamed about at 2am when the world was soft and he let himself want things he shouldn’t. Tall, broad shoulders draped in a worn black jacket, dark eyes pinned on Hoseok like a promise. Tattoos curled up his throat, slipped under his collar — ink and leather and danger.

The worst part? Hoseok liked tattoos. Liked them too much. Of course, he thought faintly. Of course the universe would do this to me.

His magic was clawing at his ribs now, electric and wild, like it wanted to jump the few feet and wrap itself around Jimin — and that other boy too. He felt lightheaded, knees soft. Too much. He wouldn’t last another minute.

Jimin’s mouth opened again, tone dropping lower now — his magic thickening in the air like a hush before thunder. “You see, the thing is, we—”

“I’m sorry!” Hoseok squeaked. He nearly jumped backward, bag strap sliding off his shoulder. “I — I really have to — I have to go. It was nice meeting you though, really nice — sorry, bye!”

He didn’t wait for Jimin’s reply. Didn’t dare look at the tattooed boy again. He bolted, shoes thudding down the hallway, breath catching in his throat like it didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Behind him, Jimin’s giggle lingered in the air — soft, pleased, and a little wicked — as Jungkook stepped up beside him, eyes wide.

“Well,” Jungkook drawled, eyebrows raised. “That went well.”

Jimin just smiled, eyes fixed on the spot where Hoseok had vanished, magic humming warm and hungry under his skin.

~***~

The sensation, so delicious that Jimin moaned softly, fingers entwined in Jungkook’s hair to keep him there. “Um, good afternoon to you guys as well I guess” both Jimin and Jungkook turned their heads looking at Taehyung who stood by the kitchen entrance, brow arched in amusement. 

Chapter Text

He couldn’t breathe. Hoseok couldn’t breathe, he would love to blame it on the fact that he’d sprinted all the way from campus to his dorm, legs burning, chest tight, ignoring the elevator entirely. But he knew that wasn’t it.

His lungs felt like they were shrinking, like someone was pressing an iron fist right against his ribcage. His magic was a live wire under his skin, racing through his veins so fast it made him lightheaded, dizzy — like he was being pulled apart from the inside out.

The more his magic lashed out, sparks snapping beneath his skin, the more terrified he became. Each panicked breath felt thinner than the last. His throat squeezed shut as if the air itself refused him. Hoseok was sure, utterly sure he was going to die alone in this hallway.

Tears blurred his vision until the overhead lights fractured into pale, trembling stars. Broken sobs ripped past his lips, raw and desperate.

“No, no, no — please, stop — please, make it stop —”

His nails dug into his scalp as he clawed at his hair, his back sliding down the cold, white wall until he hit the floor. The corridor around him wavered, spots dancing at the edge of his sight. Each heartbeat slammed like a drum against his ears. His body felt so light — too light — like he might float right out of it and disappear altogether.

He didn’t hear the front door slam open, didn’t register the pounding footsteps or the frantic voices until they were right there — warm hands, familiar scents, words swimming through the static in his head.

“Hobi! Hobi, baby, open your eyes — it’s me, Hyung — look at me —”

But Hoseok’s body wouldn’t listen. He trembled violently, choking on half-formed breaths, tears streaming down his cheeks in hot rivers.

“He’s too far gone, Yugyeom, get his back!” Jackson's voice, low and commanding, cut through the haze like a lifeline.

A heavy, solid weight pressed up against his back. An arm looped firmly around his waist, another draped over his shoulder, grounding him in the present. The sharp, crisp scent of pine and fresh mint drifted through his foggy mind — so familiar it made something in his chest clench painfully.

Another pair of hands gently pried his fists from his hair. Hoseok blinked down at his raw knuckles, surprised to see how tightly he’d been pulling.

“Yugy, go grab him some water — hurry!”

A cold draft from the hallway brushed his damp skin, but the warmth of the bodies flanking him anchored him like stones in a river.

“Seokie… hey, baby I know, I know it’s hard, but I need you to breathe for me, yeah?” Jackson’s voice was soft now, so close to his ear it felt like it echoed inside his skull. “Come on, love — deep breaths. Listen to Hyung, in… two, three, four… out… two, three, four…”

Why was he counting? Why were numbers floating around him like fireflies?

His lungs burned, but the voice gave him something to hold onto. He clung to it like driftwood in a storm. Slowly, painfully, he matched the rhythm — in… two, three, four… out… two, three, four…

The pressure in his chest loosened, inch by inch. The magic humming in his veins slowed, coiling down like a restless animal soothed by a calm hand. His body sagged into the warmth around him, boneless and trembling but still here.

“That’s it, Seok-ah. That’s my good boy, come back to us.”

A cool glass pressed against his cracked lips. Hoseok tasted water — icy, clean — and let it slide down his parched throat, the cold shocking him back into his own skin.

When he finally looked up, blinking tears from his lashes, Jaebeom’s face came into view — worried eyes, gentle hands still cradling him like something precious.

“Jackson… Hyung…”

“Wait,  hold on — you’re telling me Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook just walked up to you out of nowhere and said they’ve been watching you? And now they want to get to know you ?” Yugyeom’s voice cracked, high and disbelieving.

Hoseok let out a shaky sigh, pulling the thick blanket tighter around his shoulders. He could still feel echoes of panic clinging to his ribs. “Yes, Yugy — for the third time. And why are you acting like you personally know them?”

Yugyeom stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Hyung, are you kidding? Everyone knows who they are. They’re part of the most well-known coven on campus — maybe in the whole damn community.”

Hoseok scrunched his nose, burying his chin deeper into the blanket’s softness. The scent of pine still lingered there. “Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

Yugyeom snorted out a laugh that turned into a giggle, flopping down on the couch next to him. “Sorry, Hyung. I’m just — this is big! If you actually befriend them, do you realize how many doors that could open for you? They have resources , connections —”

Hoseok cut him off with a sharp glare, tugging the blanket over his head like a turtle retreating into its shell. “Yah! We’re not using people, Yugy. That’s—”

“—Not what he meant,” Jackson interrupted, his voice quiet but cutting through the playful atmosphere like a knife. He stood by the kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, eyes fixed on Hoseok.

Hoseok peeked out from under the blanket. “Hyung?”

Jaebeom crossed the room, crouching until he was eye-level with him. There was a weight in his eyes that made Hoseok’s stomach twist.

“Do you… do you know why your magic acted up today, Seok-ah?”

Hoseok blinked, throat going dry again. “Um. No, Hyung. Why?”

Jackson exhaled slowly, gaze flicking to Yugyeom, who shifted uncomfortably. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Hoseok’s damp forehead.

“Because we do.”

Taehyung bit lightly on Jimin's ear, savoring the sweet sound coming from his mouth "so you two have found our seventh" both Jimin and Jungkook shivered at Taehyung's voice, it was more of a statement than a question

"mmm yeah, you should have seen him Taetae he looked so sweet and his energy was so strong I-" Jimin broke off into a loud moan as Taehyung's hands brushed against his nipples. Taehyung chuckled "oh it must be strong why else would you be so sensitive"

 Taehyung lay contently where he was against the headboard of his bed, Jimin on his left and Jungkook on his right, all three laying naked. He ran his hand through their hair and down their naked bodies. He would normally tease them both but considering how worked up they seemed he decided to be nice for once

"don't you think you're being a slut Jimin"

ok maybe nice wasn't his forte but he was being nice enough.

 Jimin tensed, his legs closing in a feeble attempt to hide how hard the words alone made him, although it only earned him a hard slap on the thigh causing him to cry out "oh come on baby don't hide show us your cute pathetic cock" Jimin whined, hiding his face in Taehyung's neck

 " m'not a slut"

 Taehyung scoffed "no? what are you then because I'm pretty sure only sluts follow their mate around like a bitch in heat right Kookie" Jungkook panted from Taehyung's side, busy grinding against Taehyung's thigh "y-yeah Hyung" Jungkook breathed out. 

Taehyung brushed Jungkook's hair out of his face before his hand slowly traveled down to Jungkook's cock squeezing lightly "since we've come to an agreement that Jimin is a slut how bout we fuck some manners into him" he suggested, Jungkook moaned, nodding his head.

 Taehyung hummed "Jimin hands and knees now, Kook prep him" Taehyung spoke with noting but possessiveness and authority an that made Jimin and Jungkook shiver like they were in the middle of a cold winter night.  Jimin quickly scrambled to get into the instructed position crawling onto his knees, resting his body on his elbows while Jungkook reached into one of the drawers for lube.

“Acting like such an all knowing whore all this while and now suddenly so desperate to be fucked.” Jimin whimpers into the sheets, thighs trembling as he’s exposed, goosebumps traveling across his skin. Jeongguk opens the bottle of lavender-scented oil, slicking up a single finger. Jungkook runs his hands through Jimin’s hair, knowing what’s about to come and desperate to see it himself. "prep him well Kookie we have be sure Minnie is ready for our new mate" Taehyung grabbed a handful of hair, lifting Jimin's head up "Hoseokie isnt gonna want to fuck you if you don't know how to please minnie" Taehyunf teased in Jimins ear. at the mention of Hoseoks name Jimin tightend around Jungkooks fingers with a string od curses leaving his mouth.

 Jungkook worked his finger in and out of Jimin  groaning at how tight he was "fuck Hyung how is it that your this tight even after Namjoon Hyung fucked you last night" Jimin moaned pushing his body back, trying to fuck himself back on Jungkook's fingers Taehyung slapped Jimin's ass causing him to moan loudly "ahh Tae~" Taehyung only tsked "I suggest you keep it down Seokjin Hyung and Yoongi Hyung are sure to be back by now and we wouldn't want them to hear how much of a slut you're being. 

Jimin whined softly "please Tae"

"please what kitten? gonna have to use your word love, otherwise me and Kookie won't know what you want" 

Jimin huffed turning to look behind him. He makes sure they're both looking at him before he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, clearly asking for something in it. preferably something big and hard. 

Jungkook swears under his breath, slipping his finger out of Jimin and swatting at his ass again. Taehyung stands on the other side of the bed, just in front of Jimin, and runs a hand through Jimin's hair, cupping his cheek and tugging his face up so that Jimin looks him in the eye—instead of staring at his cock, which is now at eye level.

Jimin's mouth is salivating. "baby just wants something in his mouth, huh?" Taehyung murmurs, running his thumb over Jimin's bottom teeth. "Just wanna be full?" "wanna be full," Jimin mutters in response, hole leaking fluttering at the very idea.

behind him, Jungkook curses, scissoring his fingers inside Jimin a few more times before he pulls them out. The bed dips behind him, Jungkook's knees knocking into the backs of Jimin's thighs as he gets onto the bed behind him and makes Jimin spread his legs wider. 

Jimin lets out a moan, wanting to look over his shoulder and see Jungkook, but Taehyung still has a hand on his face and is busy running his fingers over Jimin's lips. 

Taehyung rubs his half-hardened cock on Jimin's lips smearing the precum "open wide" Jimin obeys, opening his mouth so Taehyung's cock can slide in just as Jungkook slips his cock into his ass. Jimin keened at the feeling of being stuffed from both ends

Jimin tries to focus on actually sucking Taehyung's cock while not turning entirely brainless from Jungkook's cock in his ass—but it feels so fucking good, groaning around Taehyung's cock when Jungkook tightens his grip on his hips and begins thrusting into him harder and faster.

 He can't focus on one thing, suddenly, one of his hands gripping Taehyung's thigh for purchase. Taehyung grabs Jimin's hair and takes the lead he starts thrusting shallowly into Jimin's mouth.

 All Jimin can do is kneel there and take it as Jungkook fucks him from behind and Taehyung fucks his mouth, groaning at the feeling of being filled from both ends, both of his mates hard inside of him.

 "Oh fuck, just like that Minnie," Taehyung moans, tightening his hand in Jimin's hair as he fucks into his mouth, cock occasionally nudging against the back of his throat. "fuck, so good. such a good slut for us Minnie, taking it like the whore you are, you were made to take our cocks ."

 "ahh!, Hyung," 

Jungkook moans, speeding up his thrusts even more as he lifts one of his legs up and plants his foot on the bed so he can move faster, hips slamming against Jimin, hard enough to bruise. The sounds of their skin slapping fill the room as Jimin feels himself begin to drool uncontrollably.

 "He's so tight. you don't even know, fuck, I could fuck him all day—"

 "you're gonna make me come," Taehyung mutters. Jungkook laughs

 "don't let him hear you say that."

 "he's fucking gone, anyway," Taehyung grunts, and Jimin can't even argue because it's true—he's being jostled between them so hard, their thrusts timed perfectly, and all he can feel is his hole stretching around Jungkook's cock, his mouth tight around Taehyung's, and he wants them to fill him up, even more, wants to be bloated and swollen with their come, wants to hang off of their cocks for the rest of his life—

"look, he's drooling all over my cock." 

 Jungkook changes the angle of his thrusts just slightly and brushes against Jimin's Prostate, making him squeal around Taehyung's cock. Jungkook hits it again and again and again until there are tears welling in Jimin's eyes at how good it feels, how much he wants to feel this all the goddamn time.

 he's only vaguely aware of the vulgar things Taehyung and Jungkook are saying to each other—something about someone being hot, and he thinks it's about him—but then the angles change again. he nearly chokes on Taehyung's cock as it shoved even deeper than before, and Jimin leans back to pull off to save himself.  

He breathes hard and heavy, drool dripping from his mouth, and glances upward, Taehyung was staring back at him, a dark look in his eyes "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen," Jimin lets out a whimper, rolling his tongue out. 

Taehyung shoves his cock back in Jimin's mouth causing Jimin to gag "ah Hyung I'm gonna come" Taehyung looks up at Jungkook 

"me too, fuck Minnie you feel so good"

 Jungkook grippes Jimin's hips pulling him back on his cock to meet his thrust, Jimin could feel his stomach tightening his orgasm approaching.

Jungkook slapped Jimin's ass, as his hips stuttered cumming into His ass, Jimin cried out, body giving out as he came, lying limp on the bed.

 Taehyung moaned at the scene looking at his mates wrecked, he came cum spurting and landing on Jimin's face before falling to lay beside them. They all lay there basking in their post-orgasm "so tell me more about our mysterious mate.

                          ~***~

“Alright, alright — settle down, everyone to your seats,” Professor Lee called out, voice echoing off the tall, arched ceiling of the lecture hall. Chairs scraped against the old wooden floor as students shuffled into place, the air buzzing with low murmurs and the rustle of pages.

Hoseok slipped into his seat by the window, the mid-morning sun warm on his shoulder. He pulled his battered textbook and neatly organized notes from his worn leather satchel, smoothing the corner of a page that threatened to curl. He could still feel the lingering hum of magic beneath his skin — a soft reminder of that night.

“Yesterday,” Professor Lee continued, his crisp voice cutting through Hoseok’s drifting thoughts, “we left off on the In-Betweens — the magical creatures tied to both the Amante and Gyógyító clans. Today, we’ll pick up where we left off — the Cambio clan. The creatures bound to the Cambio clan include the Kludde, the Mongolian Death Worm, and the Roc.”

The professor flicked on the ancient projector with a soft click, and the screen flared to life with the grainy image of a beast Hoseok knew only from the darker corners of old family tomes.

“This,” Professor Lee gestured with his pointer, “is the Kludde — a massive, wolf-like canine with six-foot wings sprouting from its back. The Kludde is fiercely protective of its master — or more accurately, its spirit wielder . They’re loyal to the death, and even beyond it.”

Hoseok squinted at the creature’s burning eyes projected onto the wall. It looked eerily familiar — like something that could have prowled the shadowed gardens of his childhood home, back when he’d sneak out to watch the night spirits play.

Professor Lee clicked to the next slide. A grainy photo of a huge, pale worm filled the screen — its circular maw bristling with teeth. Murmurs rose in the classroom.

“The Mongolian Death Worm — I trust most of you know this one well,” Professor Lee said dryly, adjusting his glasses. “We all remember August 12th — when a rogue Death Worm broke its binding and rampaged through a mining town, killing over 800 before Cambio clan enforcers finally subdued it.”

A student near the front shivered audibly. Hoseok stared at the monstrous thing, its coiled body frozen in a still image but practically thrumming with restless menace in his mind’s eye. He could almost feel its raw, stubborn will.

Professor Lee clicked again. This time, a massive bird spread its wings across the screen — feathers dark as storm clouds, eyes sharp as blades.

“The Roc — a giant eagle-like creature, wingspan the length of a passenger jet. They’re not just brute strength, but keenly intelligent — it’s said a Roc can outwit ten scholars at once.”

A hand shot up from the back row — a bold girl with a nose ring and an impatient frown.

“Yes, go ahead,” Professor Lee prompted.

“Didn’t the Rocs stop serving the Cambio clan after the Clan War?” she asked.

Professor Lee pressed his lips together, nodding once. “Correct. After the War of the Four Clans, the Roc severed ties with the Cambio. No one truly knows why — only rumors and folk tales remain. Some say they grew weary of war. Others claim they saw something they could not abide. But nothing’s been confirmed.”

He switched the slide, and Hoseok’s heart lurched. He knew that shape immediately — every ripple of muscle under shimmering skin, every dark eye glimmering under moonlit water.

A Kelpie.

Hoseok’s throat bobbed as the image flickered — a sleek, ghostly horse half-submerged in a misty lake.

“This is a Kelpie — a water spirit that favors the shape of a horse,” Professor Lee continued, almost casually. “Don’t let its beauty fool you. They’re playful, yes — overly playful. If you’re not careful, they’ll drag you beneath the surface and keep you there forever.”

A few students chuckled nervously. Hoseok almost laughed too — because he knew that mischievous pull firsthand. He’d returned home soaked to the bone more times than he could count, Kelpie laughter ringing in his ears as they dove back into the reeds.

The projector shifted again — this time to a scaled beast with three snapping, venom-dripping heads.

“The Hydra,” Professor Lee announced, his voice taking on a note of reverence. “A creature of endless renewal — cut off one head, and two more take its place. Its blood is so toxic it can dissolve iron in minutes. Magnificent, if a bit inconvenient.”

A hush settled over the class — the Hydra’s coiled power radiating from the old photograph.

“Next — Gremlins.” The image changed to something absurdly cute: a fuzzy, round creature with wide glassy eyes and stubby paws.

Snickers bubbled through the lecture hall. “They’re adorable little helpers in Nero clan homes and shops — until you piss them off. Then they shed the fur and become hairless bullies with a taste for chaos.”

Laughter rippled around Hoseok. He had to press his lips together to keep from bursting out himself. People still ignored the warnings — feeding the little fiends after midnight, turning them into the spawns of the devil .

He remembered one summer night — a whole block flooded with shrieking, bald Gremlins tearing through garbage cans and car tires. It took three days and an entire Nero clean-up team to herd them back to their burrows.

Professor Lee cleared his throat. “Back to the Kelpie for a moment. Once upon a time, these spirits would let anyone ride their backs, guiding lost travelers across rivers and lakes. But times have changed. Now, they’ll drown the first non-Nero clan member who comes too close. They symbolize unity — and vengeance. Best to admire from a distance.”

The room fell into uneasy silence, the air tense with the weight of that unspoken warning. Hoseok’s fingers drummed on his notebook. He could still see that boy — splashing, screaming — and his father’s wild magic as he demanded the Kelpie release its prize.

“And lastly, the Basilisk.” The final slide flickered up — an ancient drawing of a massive serpent, its eyes glinting like polished mirrors. “A snake-like reptile whose gaze can turn flesh to stone. Its fangs drip with venom that kills slowly, painfully. Unlike the others, the Basilisk must be summoned — and only by a Nero clan member. It’s been over a century since anyone managed that feat.”

Professor Lee gave the class a moment to catch up, the scratch of pens filling the hall. Then he snapped the screen dark and flipped the lights back on. The room blinked in sudden brightness.

“Remember — clan members can only form contracts with creatures from their own bloodline. Some do so at birth. Some earn it later, if the creature deems them worthy. Rarer spirits are exactly that — rare. That’s why you hardly hear whispers of Griffins, Phoenixes, Krakens… or Nine-Tailed Foxes.”

He shut his folder with finality. “Alright, that’s section six — the In-Betweens. Next week, we’ll start section four: Clan Formalities. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Hoseok packed his notes with slow, careful movements, his mind spinning.

Two days. It had only been two days since he collapsed in that hallway — since Hyung’s words cracked open a truth he’d never imagined would be his.

Wait, Hyung — you’re telling me that what happened was a… a mating bond?!

Jackson’s expression was soft but unyielding. “Yes. And it’s your choice, Seokie. You can accept it — let it bloom. Or you can reject it. We’ll help you through that if you choose it, but it’ll hurt. It always hurts. Thankfully, you haven’t bonded fully yet. No time spent — no deep ties. That makes it… bearable.”

Hoseok had stayed up the entire night after. Researching. Reading. Staring.

Kim Namjoon. The Gyógyító clan’s golden son — a formidable witch, an adept healer, rumored to hold a contract with a phoenix spirit of all things. His touch could stitch wounds closed before blood even knew it had spilled.

Kim Seokjin. A vampire of Cambio blood — old family money, power stretching generations deep. Seokjin’s name popped up beside gala photos and glossy interviews — that smile, too polished to be harmless.

Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi. Dragons. Dragons. Hoseok could barely wrap his head around it. One dragon was terrifying enough — two in the same clan, both rumored to be fiercely possessive of anything — or anyone — they called theirs.

And then Park Jimin. Jeon Jungkook. The ones who’d cornered him with soft eyes and honeyed words. Jimin, son of an enchantress and a siren — Amante clan legacy wrapped in velvet voice and lethal beauty. Jungkook — Gyógyító again, a healer so strong even the elders whispered about him. His family owned entire hospitals, charities, places where people whispered prayers and left healed.

Hoseok squeezed his bag strap tight as he stepped into the hall. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

He had mates. Powerful ones. Beautiful ones. Impossible ones.

And him?

He swallowed. Who says they ever have to know? If he kept his rituals strict — if he buried what he was deep enough — maybe, just maybe, he could have this.

For the first time in forever, Hoseok allowed himself to imagine it — warm laughter in a kitchen, soft smiles over shared cups of tea, arms pulling him in close, the heavy hum of home vibrating through his bones.

One way to find out.

He squared his shoulders and walked into the sunlit corridor, heart hammering, mind whispering don’t look back .

Chapter Text

I just wanted to show you guys what I imagined the magical creatures of each clan looked like :)

Gyógyító clan:

Griffin 

~**~

phoenix

~**~

Caladrius (my favorite:)

                                                                                                                                ~***~

Amante clan:

Kraken

~**~

 Nine tailed fox

~**~

                                                                                                                               ~***~

Cambio clan:

Kludde

~**~

 Mongolian Death Worm

~**~

Roc

                                                                                                                                ~***~

Nero clan:

Gremlins(I think they're super cute)

~**~

Hydra

~**~

kelpie

~**~

Basilisk

Alright that's all of them! i think lol

Chapter Text

~Never trust a survivor until you find out what he did to survive.~

When the rest of the coven stepped through the front door of the apartment, they were hit by it instantly — a dense wave of magic so sweet and heavy it clung to their skin like perfume. It coiled through the air like a living thing, tasting of honeyed wine and ocean salt.

Namjoon paused halfway out of his coat, bags of fresh produce dangling from his arms. Yoongi froze beside him, eyes narrowing as he felt the power brush over his wards like curious fingers.

“Did I… miss something on the lunar calendar?” Yoongi muttered, his tone clipped, eyes flicking to Namjoon.

Namjoon frowned, setting the groceries down on the kitchen island with a soft thud. “No red moon this month. And Jimin didn’t mention planning a ritual,” he said slowly, glancing at Jin for confirmation.

Seokjin’s brow twitched. “Then that can only mean—”

They didn’t need to finish the thought. Together, they followed the trail of humming magic down the hallway — where the living room lights spilled into the corridor like warm syrup.

When they stepped in, the sight that greeted them could have been painted by a scandalous old master. Jimin lay sprawled between Taehyung and Jungkook, bare skin glowing in the flicker of enchanted candles. His cheeks were flushed pink, hair damp with sweat, lips parted as he twiddled his thumbs, looking up at the coven like a child caught with his hand in the sugar jar.

Jungkook fingers drummed lazily against Jimin’s hipbone. Teahyun’s arm was slung possessively across his waist, his mouth still red from kisses.

Namjoon’s jaw ticked. Seokjin blinked once, then twice, “I… can explain,” Jimin squeaked.

“So.” Seokjin’s voice rang out like a judge’s gavel “..And then we had sex. Really good sex, if I might add,” Jimin finished helpfully, hands tucked demurely in his lap. The silence that followed was so thick it might have been physical — pressing down on everyone’s shoulders, squeezing the air from the room.

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose. Namjoon inhaled. Slowly. Loudly.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” he said, voice dangerously level. “You stalked our seventh mate — which, mind you, you swear by the twelve gods you’re sure about — then cornered this poor human after his magic theory class, where he reasonably ran for his life because who wouldn’t run when cornered by two witches in broad daylight—” He gestured wildly at Jungkook, who shrank a little under the weight of Joon’s pointed stare. If Jimin didn’t know better, he’d think Namjoon's eyes were going to roll right out of his skull.

“Well, when you say it like that, Hyung…” Jungkook mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

Seokjin snorted, a humorless bark of laughter. “How else should he say it, Kookie baby ?” Namjoon cleared his throat. The room shifted instantly, all eyes snapping to him. Even Jin quieted.

“If Jimin’s right — and this is our mate — then this changes everything. But we can’t risk scaring him away again,” Namjoon said. His tone was gentle, the way only Namjoon could be.

Jimin’s lower lip jutted out, a petulant pout that almost melted Yoongi’s irritation on the spot. Jungkook mirrored him, shoulders hunched like a scolded puppy.

“We didn’t mean to scare him,” Jungkook mumbled.

“I know,” Namjoon said softly. “But he’s human — or thinks he is — and he’s unbonded . He doesn’t know our customs. He doesn’t know our ways. If you push too hard, he’ll run again — and next time we might not find him.”

Seokjin’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t argue. He shifted his gaze to Namjoon and inclined his head slightly — a subtle sign of trust.

“So instead,” Namjoon continued, “Jin-hyung and I will handle this. Formally . No cornering him in back hallways like prey. No magic flares. Understood?”

Jimin and Jungkook nodded miserably. Yoongi slung an arm lazily over Jimin’s shoulders. “And until your magic stops leaking everywhere, you are on lockdown. No slipping out, no more bedroom rituals. I’ll stay with you.”

Jimin shrank under Yoongi’s steely stare, nodding as if caught pilfering cookies from the jar again.

He could only hope they wouldn’t ruin everything.

Hoseok knew they’d come for him. He’d felt their magic brushing at the edges of his own for days — soft as silk, insistent as a heartbeat. He’d expected them outside his Magic Theory lecture like before. Not outside his early morning Chem lab.

The hallways were half-empty this early — cold fluorescent lights humming overhead, echoing footsteps bouncing off linoleum. Hoseok felt the prickle of awareness before he even saw them. Two tall shapes by the doorway. Patient. Unmoving.

He had two choices. Talk. Or run.

His brain made the choice for him. Hoseok clutched his bag strap tighter and pivoted sharply on his heel. Run, run, run—

“HOBI-AH! Yah, Hobi!” a voice bellowed behind him.

Hoseok nearly laughed — of course . Of course it was Jackson Wang and Kim Yugyeom, barrelling down the hallway like a pair of rowdy wolves.

“Damn it, Jackson,” Hoseok hissed under his breath as he turned, pasting on his best nothing to see here smile. “Why are you here?”

Jackson threw an arm around his shoulders, ruffling Hoseok’s hair with maddening fondness. “What do you mean? We always walk you to class.”

“You really don’t have to—” Hoseok started, but his eyes snagged past Jackson’s shoulder — and there they were. Namjoon’s broad frame leaning casually against the wall, Seokjin beside him like a pale blade in human skin. Namjoon’s eyes found Hoseok’s immediately — warm, deep, unblinking. Seokjin’s gaze swept him head to toe like he was reading a ledger.

Hoseok’s stomach flipped. He barely registered Jackson’s chatter or Yugyeom’s playful shove. He could feel the pull — like a hook under his ribs, dragging him closer.

Namjoon stepped forward first, voice low but clear. “Excuse me.”

Jackson stiffened, hand on Hoseok’s shoulder tightening reflexively. Hoseok felt the tremor beneath Jackson’s skin — the way the energy around him buzzed, the air tasting faintly of ozone.

“Can I help you two?” Jackson drawled. His tone was pleasant — too pleasant.

Seokjin’s nose wrinkled as if Jackson were something sticky under his shoe. “We were not addressing you, creature .”

Jackson’s fists clenched. Yugyeom’s jaw twitched, sparks dancing faintly at his fingertips. Hoseok stepped forward, heart hammering. He could not afford a scene. Not here. Not now.

“You were talking to me , right?” Hoseok asked quickly, voice light but edged with steel. He forced himself to meet Namjoon’s eyes — warm and fathomless.

“Yes,” Namjoon said, smile softening. His dimples flickered — dangerously disarming. “Would you mind stepping aside so my mate and I can converse with you privately?”

Hoseok’s lips parted — but Jackson cut in, voice sharp. “Absolutely not .”

Namjoon’s eyes flickered — amusement gone in an instant. His voice dropped, colder than an arctic wind. “I don’t believe I was speaking to you .”

Jackson bristled, power humming through his skin like static lightning. Yugyeom’s breath misted faintly in the air, frost blooming at the corners of his sleeves. Hoseok’s pulse spiked.

No, no, not here—

“Hyung. Yugy. Please,” Hoseok said firmly, squeezing Jackson’s wrist. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Jackson’s eyes softened — but only a fraction. “I don’t like this, Hobi.”

“I know.” Hoseok smiled, small but determined. “Trust me , not them, okay?”

Jackson’s shoulders slumped. He released him with a reluctant growl, stepping back. Yugyeom shot Hoseok a worried glance but said nothing. The air around them slowly calmed.

Hoseok stepped closer to Namjoon and Seokjin, the air growing warmer — thicker — the bond whispering at the edge of his magic like a secret song.

“Sorry about that,” Hoseok said, voice gentle. “They’re just… protective.”

Namjoon’s smile returned — soft, devastating. “Of course. It’s only natural. Still—” His eyes flicked to Jackson and Yugyeom, his voice turning velvet-dark. “One should know their place.”

Hoseok’s stomach twisted. Seokjin’s eyes glowed faintly amber, locked onto Jackson like a predator eyeing prey.

“For a human, you know quite a lot, Hoseok,” Seokjin murmured. “But it would be wise not to tie yourself to the Nero clan. They are… contemptible.”

Hoseok’s breath caught. His fingers dug into his bag strap — shoulders rigid. “Their kind ?” he echoed softly.

Seokjin tilted his head, smiling like a knife. “Yes. You’re better off without them.”

When Hoseok stumbled into his next class, his head was still buzzing — half fury, half fear, and something else hot and trembling in his chest. He dropped into the seat next to Felix, forcing his lips into a smile as Felix waved wildly.

“Hey, hey! You good, Hyung?” San whispered, eyebrow raised.

“Peachy,” Hoseok lied, pulling out his notebook as Professor Lee cleared his throat at the podium.

“Alright everyone — settle down. Today, we’ll cover the clans themselves — their structure, power, and old ways. Let’s start. Who can remind me: which clan is known as the strongest of the four?”

A girl at the front raised her hand immediately, her pen clutched like a wand. “The Gyógyító clan?”

Professor Lee nodded, flipping the first slide on the projector — a tangle of ancient family trees. “Correct. The Gyógyító clan is the strongest — their magic is vast and diverse. Healers. Naiads. Incantors. Dragons. Branches of one ancient tree.”

Felix scoffed quietly, nose wrinkling. Hoseok shot him a side-eye but said nothing — he knew Felix’s feelings about the ‘almighty’ Gyógyító all too well.

The slide flicked to a watery, ethereal figure — a woman made of riverlight, hair flowing like a stream. She seemed alive even frozen on the screen.

“This is a Naiad,” Professor Lee explained. “Water fae. Gentle guardians of fresh water — once revered as protectors of young girls, guiding them safely from childhood to womanhood. Even now, they ensure fresh water flows where it’s needed most.”

Pens scratched furiously. A girl in the back raised her hand. “I thought Naiads were sea fae?”

Professor Lee smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Common misconception. Naiads belong to fresh water — rivers, lakes, springs. Saltwater spirits are another matter entirely.”

Students murmured, scribbling the correction.

The next slide shifted to a man in flowing robes, hands glowing over a feverish child. The faint outline of a white bird perched on his shoulder — a Caladrius, feathers shimmering faintly.

“Healers,” Professor Lee said reverently. “Ancient lifelines before we had modern medicine. Caladrius birds help them detect the faintest sickness — even before it takes hold. Because of healers, diseases once fatal are now curable — though, as you know, their power comes at a cost.”

A student near the window raised a timid hand. “If they’re so powerful… why can’t they cure everything?”

Professor Lee’s smile turned somber. “Think of their magic like a battery. If drained too far —” he snapped his fingers, sharp in the hush “— it can kill them. So, they balance what they give, or risk dying alongside their patients.”

The projector flickered to a final image — a scaled shadow curled around an ancient stone circle. Its eyes glowed molten gold, half-hidden under a wing.

“And dragons,” Professor Lee continued. “Ancient. Territorial. Fiercely private. It is said a dragon never truly loves halfway — whether it’s their hoard, their clan, or their mate, they claim it wholly or not at all.”

Hoseok’s pen paused over his page — claim it wholly . His mind spun with images — deep voices, warm hands, magic humming like a promise under his skin.

“And incantors, mages who wield ancient grimoires, their minds half in this world and half in the realm of forgotten tongues. Leaders. Tacticians. Charming when they wish to be — deadly when they don’t.”

Professor Lee shut his book with a gentle thud. “That’s all for today. Tomorrow, the Amante clan.”

As students rose, gathering their things, Hoseok turned to Felix,  heart drumming a traitorous rhythm against his ribs.

“Felix.. ” he murmured, voice low. Felix turned, eyebrow arched.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

~~~

Chapter Text

hi everyone- ive been gone for a while lol but ive been wanting to pick this story back up so ill have new chapters coming this week however i do suggest for you guys to go back and re read the chapters as i have changed some things and some characters. thx for your patience:)

Chapter Text

*~*~

"Butterflies can't see their own wings, they can't see how beautiful they are, but everyone else can, people are like that as well."

Hoseok was tired — no, exhausted . There really was no other word for it. He felt like a candle burnt too low, wick buried in melted wax, the flame sputtering just to keep from disappearing altogether. Between balancing endless coursework, the draining rituals he needed to restore his magic, and the demands of dance rehearsals that pushed his muscles and mind to the brink, he was bone-weary in a way that sleep alone could never fix.

Not that sleep brought any comfort these days. If he did manage to collapse into bed for a few stolen hours, nightmares clawed at the inside of his skull — half-forgotten memories laced with shadows that whispered in voices he almost recognized. He would wake tangled in sweat-damp sheets, heart hammering like a hunted thing. And then the sun would rise, and he would do it all again.

This morning was no different. Hoseok slipped into the lecture hall a minute before the door closed, chest heaving lightly from the rush across campus. He dropped into his seat with a small grin for Felix, who gave him an enthusiastic wave from two rows over — Felix always managed to look so alive, so bright . Sometimes Hoseok wondered if that lightness came with being Amante-blooded.

“All right everyone, settle down now. Class is in session,” Professor Lee called, voice echoing through the hush that fell over the room. Hoseok flipped open his battered notebook, the pages dog-eared and smudged with graphite from too many half-finished thoughts.

“Today we’ll continue where we left off — the classifications of the four clans and their ways. Now, let’s recap,” Professor Lee said, already turning to write on the chalkboard. “The Gyógyító, the Cambio, the Amante, and the Nero. Last time, we covered, the Gyógyító. Now, let’s look at Amante clan. Please turn to page 103 in your textbooks.”

A soft flutter of turning pages filled the room. Hoseok’s hands moved automatically, though his mind felt half a mile away, drifting between the professor’s words and the fog of exhaustion pressing at the edges of his vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faint glow in Felix’s eyes — a soft, pleased spark that made his magic hum against his skin like a pleased cat. Of course Felix was thrilled; they were finally talking about his clan.

Hoseok bit down the tiny envy that prickled in his chest. He wished he could feel that same pride. That same sense of belonging. But envy wouldn’t help, he buried it under practiced calm and focused on his notes.

“Now,” Professor Lee continued, tapping the board with a piece of chalk. “The Amante clan consists of sirens, enchanters and enchantresses, incubi and succubi, fae and fairies. Beings tied to the very nature of desire and allure.”

Hoseok almost smiled when he felt Felix’s aura flare just a bit brighter, like a candle flame dancing in a breeze. He could practically see Felix puffing up in pride. It was… adorable, really.

“Sirens are beings of captivating beauty,” Professor Lee said, pacing in front of the board. “They have an aura that draws people in — an instinctive charm, a magnetism. Their voices are particularly dangerous. A siren’s song can wrap around a listener’s mind like a vine — binding, twisting, compelling.”

Hoseok’s eyes drifted to Felix again, the soft copper strands of his hair catching the classroom light, the corner of his mouth turned up in a quiet smirk. Yeah, Hoseok could believe every word. Felix’s laugh alone could make him forget whole conversations.

A hand shot up at the front of the room. Soojin, of course. She practically lived to ask questions. “Mr. Lee, can you tell us more about the siren’s song?” she asked, voice sweet as spun sugar.

Professor Lee’s eyes crinkled with fond amusement. “Good question, Soojin. A siren’s song is a tool of seduction — ancient, primal. It was once used freely, which led to more than a few unfortunate tragedies. That’s why, in modern times, the Amante clan enforces strict covenants and charms to prevent abuse. So you’re quite safe — unless a siren really wants to get your attention.” He chuckled, earning a ripple of nervous laughter across the room.

Hoseok tried to focus — he really did — but his thoughts kept slipping. They slid away from the neat lines of clan history and into a messier territory. The Kim coven . The seven names that had been gnawing at the edge of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Park Jimin — the siren. Jimin was more than beautiful. He looked like someone sculpted out of moonlight and secrets. Hoseok had stared at that one photo for hours, memorizing the shape of his lips, the dark gleam in his eyes that seemed to see things.

Jeon Jungkook — the healer. The youngest in the coven, yet his name carried weight. Power. Hoseok had nearly choked when he read about Jungkook’s spirit guide, an Arkany it was rare to control one as well as he did at a young age in which he did at the age of 7. And those tattoos… Hoseok’s cheeks heated just remembering the images he’d found. He wondered — no, fantasized — about what those inked hands could do if they ever touched him for real.

Then there were Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi — dragons. Gyógyító clan. Hoseok’s breath caught just imagining it. Two dragons in one coven — fiercely territorial, impossibly powerful. Most dragons refused to share space with anyone . So what did that say about how close this coven really was? How tightly they were bound to each other? And Kim Seokjin, one of the oldest vampires in Korea,tall and incredibly charming, he has enough money to buy Seoul and a couple other cities if he wanted and Hoseok can't even imagine the knowledge he must possess. 

And Kim Namjoon. The name alone made Hoseok’s magic buzz uncomfortably in his veins. The incantor . Supposedly the most gifted of his generation. A leader by birthright, with more political sway than entire councils. Hoseok wondered what it felt like to stand in front of a man like that — to know he could tear you apart with a word, a flick of his hand, or cradle you like something precious if he chose.

“All right, class, that’s all for today!” Professor Lee’s voice snapped him out of it like a cold splash of water. Hoseok’s head jerked up, eyes wide, heart hammering as he glanced down at his notebook. A grand total of two pathetic lines stared back at him.

Felix leaned over, peeking at the page. A tiny snort slipped out of him — so bright and clear that Hoseok felt the corners of his mouth twitch despite his panic.

“Come by my place tomorrow,” Felix said, voice pitched low so only Hoseok could hear. His grin was wicked and sweet all at once. “I’ll help you fill that sad excuse for notes. And trust me — I know everything there is to know about my clan.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, relief breaking through the fog. “Really? You’d do that?”

Felix was already stuffing his things into his bag, practically vibrating with amusement. “Of course. Besides, you will finally be able to meet my mates I already can see them throwing themselves all over you” Hoseok giggled 

 “ok! Sounds like a plan, ah you didn't forget our plan for tonight right ?” Hoseok and Felix walked out the classroom toward the corridor "you mean mission distract Hyungs so that they don't know you're on a date with the Kim coven? Now that you mention it, it did slip my mind” Hoseok pouted as Felix bursted into a fit of laughter “not funny this is serious business, if my Hyungs found out about tonight, they’ll lock me in my dorm for a year. Especially my sister — she’ll hex me!, I swear.”

” Felix gave a toothy grin “dont worry Hyung ive got your back”  Felix threw an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders as they stepped into the corridor, his laughter echoing off the concrete walls like tiny bells. “ Just Relax, Hyung, I’m the king of secrets. You go and… what was it? Seduce half the Kim coven?”

Hoseok’s eyes went comically wide, nearly tripping over his own feet. “ Felix! ”

Felix’s grin was all sharp teeth and mischief. “Just enjoy your date, Hobi. They’ll never see it coming.”

The second Hoseok stepped outside the building, the dusk air hit him like a quiet promise. The sun was low, bleeding streaks of gold and bruised purple across the campus rooftops. He tugged his jacket closer around his shoulders, pulse tapping out a rhythm that felt far too fast for someone who was supposed to be sneaking off casually .

Felix stuck by his side all the way to the quad, chattering about absolutely nothing — small talk a cloak to hide the way he glanced over Hoseok’s shoulder every few seconds, making sure none of Hoseok’s Hyungs had decided to pop out of the shadows like vengeful ghosts.

“You good?” Felix asked, nudging him with an elbow as they neared the back gate. The spot was quiet, shielded by tall hedges and an old brick wall that had probably stood there since before either of them were born.

Hoseok forced a smile that felt wobbly at best. “Yeah. Yeah, totally fine. You’re sure you can handle Jaebeom-hyung if he calls?”

Felix gave him a mock salute, eyes glinting with mischief under the soft pool of the streetlamp. “I’ll tell him you’re with me studying very hard. And if he doesn’t buy it, I’ll just… sing.” He let the word roll off his tongue with a grin so devilish that Hoseok actually snorted, tension easing for half a heartbeat.

Before he could overthink it, the rumble of an engine pulled his attention. A sleek black car — windows tinted darker than sin — eased up to the curb, headlights flicking off. Hoseok’s breath caught. He’d seen this car online. It belonged to the Kim coven, the covens sigla posted neatly on the side of it.  Felix squeezed his shoulder once, voice pitched soft. “Deep breaths. You’ll be fine. Text me when you’re back or I’m telling JB you got abducted by faeries.”

Hoseok managed a choked laugh — and then the back door swung open. The car was driverless which Hoseok said a quick prayer of thanks, he needed to be alone with his thoughts and just get himself collected and by that it means he needed to talk to himself which would have been weird to do with someone else in the car 

6:01.

That’s what Hoseok’s watch read as he stood frozen in front of the towering iron gates of the Kim coven’s estate. The seconds ticked by far too loud in his ears, each one a reminder that he could still run. That he should run.

The building behind the gates looked more like a private manor than a house — all dark stone walls and wide windows flickering warm light into the dusk. It looked old yet timeless, the kind of place where whispered secrets curled into the woodwork and never left.

In his hand, the paper Namjoon had pressed into his palm back on campus felt damp with sweat — the ink of the magic spell to open the gates slightly smudged where his thumb had pressed too hard. He’d folded and unfolded it a dozen times on the bus here, tracing the neat handwriting like it might burn instructions into his skin.

He could feel his heartbeat fluttering under the collar of his jacket, so sharp it hurt. Hoseok’s teeth scraped his bottom lip raw, the taste of copper blooming on his tongue. A nervous tick, a self-made bruise to keep himself present.

Just ring the damn buzzer.
Or go home.
Go home to JB-hyung’s warm arms, Yugy’s sleepy smile, Jackson’s terrible jokes and the old creaky sofa that smelled like sage and honey.

His knees nearly buckled at the thought. Home. Safe. Known. But wasn’t that the thing? Safe was starting to feel like a cage too. His coven loved him fiercely, but they guarded him fiercely too — so fiercely he wondered if he’d ever get to breathe on his own.

And here he was, standing on a sidewalk slick with late summer mist, staring at iron gates that could swing shut behind him like jaws.

He could feel the wrongness in the marrow of his bones — every warning his mother had ever whispered about dangerous people who smiled too pretty, who could ruin you with a single look. Dragons. Vampires. Incubi. Sirens. The Kim coven was all that — power wrapped in silk and soft voices that could peel you open like fruit.

He turned, ready to leave. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not ready. I’m—

A sharp click cut the thought clean in half. The iron gates swung inward on whisper-silent hinges, parting like the jaws of some great beast. Warm light spilled down the path, catching on the wet leaves and cobblestones like gold dust.

For a breathless second, Hoseok thought of running. Back down the street, onto the bus, into the arms of people who would scold him but still tuck him in.

But instead — instead something heavy and hungry uncoiled in his chest. A small flame he’d been too scared to feed flickered to life, catching on all the places he’d carefully kept empty.

He was tired of being small. Of waiting for life to deal him another bad hand. Of letting other people tell him what he could hold, what he could keep, what he could be .

He sucked in a cold lungful of air, the smell of rain and roses and magic wrapping around him like a challenge.

Not this time.

With trembling hands, he stuffed the damp paper into his pocket. His grip tightened around the strap of his bag until the leather creaked under his palm. He could feel the warmth spilling from the open gates, could almost taste the power humming through the hedges and trees like low music.

One step forward. Then another. His boots crunched over the path, wet gravel sticking to the soles. The house loomed larger with every heartbeat, lights flickering in tall windows like watchful eyes. Somewhere inside, he knew they were waiting for him — the beautiful, dangerous people who could crack his life wide open if he let them.

And tonight, he thought, maybe he’d let them.

A chance — that’s all it takes. A chance to want more than what he was given. To choose this hunger in his veins, this ache in his chest that said maybe this could be his too.

With the wind tugging at his coat and the gates whispering shut behind him, Jung Hoseok stepped off the edge of the only life he’d ever known — and walked straight toward the unknown.

Hoseok’s boots squelched softly as he crossed the courtyard, the path winding through hedges heavy with dew. He could see his reflection in the tall windows — pale, eyes too wide, mouth parted like he’d forgotten how to breathe all over again. His bag bounced against his hip with every hesitant step, as if reminding him he could still turn back. He wouldn’t. Not now. By the time he reached the front steps, his palms were slick, his heart hammering so hard he felt it behind his eyes. The door loomed above him — massive, dark wood carved with delicate swirling runes that pulsed faintly when he reached for the brass knocker. He hesitated — just long enough for the door to open on its own. Smooth. Silent. Like it had been waiting for him all along.

Warmth hit him first — heat and the soft, spiced scent of burning candles and something sweeter underneath, like honey melting on warm bread. He stepped over the threshold, eyes adjusting from the dusk outside to the golden light within.

And there he was.

Kim Namjoon.

Standing just inside the foyer, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the faintest smile playing at his lips like he already knew every thought tangling in Hoseok’s head. He looked nothing like the intimidating leader Hoseok had Googled in the library that night — he looked kind , easy in his skin, warm eyes catching the soft glow of the hallway chandelier. But there was power too — tucked under his calm, coiled in the way he held Hoseok’s gaze without blinking.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon said, voice deep, so smooth it made Hoseok’s knees wobble. “You’re right on time.”

Hoseok blinked, mind blank. Say something, he begged himself. His throat worked around words that refused to come.

Namjoon stepped closer. Not so close that it felt like a trap — just close enough that Hoseok could smell the soft notes of sandalwood and the faint burn of magic humming under Namjoon’s skin. It was intoxicating. 

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” Namjoon asked, head tilting, that smile flickering wider when Hoseok shook his head mutely.

“No? Good. Come in.”

Namjoon stepped aside, one hand brushing lightly against Hoseok’s elbow onto his lower back to guide him deeper. That single touch, gentle, polite yet intimate  — made something in Hoseok’s chest cinch painfully tight.

The foyer spilled into a wide hallway. High ceilings. Heavy curtains. Old paintings that seemed to watch him pass. Voices drifted from somewhere deeper in the house — low laughter, the faint clink of glass. He could feel it all around him: the thrum of power woven into every floorboard, every gilded frame.

Namjoon led him to a pair of tall doors already cracked open. Warm light spilled out, and with it, voices Hoseok recognized at once.

“Stop pacing, Jimin, you’re going to wear a hole in the rug—”

“That’s rich coming from you, Jungkook, you’ve been checking the front window every five seconds—”

“Shut up, both of you—”

Hoseok hovered on the threshold, heart thrumming like a rabbit’s. Namjoon rested a steadying hand at his back — a gentle nudge that felt like a promise and a push all at once.

And then he was in the room.

Jimin was the first to see him. The pink-haired siren froze mid-step, wide eyes going even wider, his mouth parting in an exhale that sounded suspiciously like relief.

“Hoseok,” Jimin breathed — soft, awed, like he couldn’t believe he was real.

Next to him, Jungkook straightened up from where he’d been half-sprawled on the couch. Hoseok’s gaze snagged on the way the younger boy’s tattoos peeked from under the sleeves of his oversized shirt, the sharp cut of his jaw softened by the warm light.

Jungkook grinned — wide and boyish and hungry all at once. “Hey, hyung.”

Hyung. The word wrapped around Hoseok’s ribs like a ribbon pulled too tight.

“Hi,” Hoseok croaked, his voice barely more than a squeak. His bag slid off his shoulder and hit the carpet with a dull thud .

Jimin was already moving — gliding across the rug, light as air, hands reaching out but not quite touching yet. His smile was a sunbeam, warm enough to melt through every icy knot in Hoseok’s chest.

“You came,” Jimin whispered, as if he didn’t trust the moment to stay if he said it too loud.

Hoseok nodded. He didn’t trust his voice.

Behind him, Namjoon’s hand lingered at the small of his back, an anchor and an unspoken promise that this was okay — that he was wanted .

And just like that, standing there in the soft glow of the Kim coven’s living room, Hoseok felt it: the sharp, terrifying, beautiful truth.

He’d stepped off the edge. And maybe — just maybe — he wasn’t going to fall.

Maybe he was going to fly .

Chapter Text

**~**~

Hoseok was led into the foyer like a lamb nudged toward a den of wolves, except these wolves were painfully beautiful and dripped magic from every pore. His palms were clammy where they clutched the hem of his sweater. He forced himself to swallow down the nerves thrumming against his ribs as his eyes darted over the gathered coven. Seven pairs of eyes watched him — seven different shades of hunger, curiosity, and something far older than desire. Hoseok licked his lips without thinking, and the simple drag of his tongue over dry skin felt obscene under their gaze. He had dreamed of this. Mates.

A coven. A family bound by threads of magic and fate. All he had to do was keep his own secrets buried so deep down. This was his chance, and he’d sooner carve his own name from the history books than let it slip through his shaking fingers. Namjoon cleared his throat softly, drawing Hoseok’s gaze up to where the leader stood — broad shoulders wrapped in a loose forest-green cardigan, his eyes warm but edged in the quiet authority that made the air hum.

“So, Hoseok—”

“Ah! Please—” Hoseok’s voice cracked embarrassingly high. He laughed it off, cheeks burning as he ducked his head. “Please, call me Hobi.” Namjoon’s dimpled smile was devastatingly soft. “Hobi, then.” He said it like a promise. Like a vow. The syllables rolled off his tongue and settled under Hoseok’s skin like a brand. Namjoon gestured with a graceful sweep of his hand. “I’m sure you remember Jimin and Jungkook.”

Hoseok’s gaze snagged on the two younger witches lounging on the nearest velvet settee. Jimin with his light pink hair looked like he was carved from moonlight and sin, all plush lips and bedroom eyes that narrowed with feline delight as they met his. The buzz of Jimin’s magic was thick and cloying — like rose petals pressed to burning skin. Hoseok’s breath stuttered.

Next to him, Jungkook grinned, his bunny  teeth smiling on full display and boyish mischief. His eyes — warm, dark, full of something sweet and something lethal — pinned Hoseok in place like a butterfly on velvet. The youngest’s thigh bounced with restless energy, magic twitching at his fingertips as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch.

“And Seokjin, who you met…” Hoseok’s mouth went dry. Seokjin leaned against the doorframe like a predator at ease. Midnight hair slicked perfectly from his forehead, a dark satin shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the elegant column of his throat — pale, smooth, made for teeth. His lips glistened when he wet them with a slow, deliberate flick of his tongue. He winked, and Hoseok swore his knees almost buckled.

He was never making it through dinner alive. “And who you haven’t met yet, Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung.” At the names, the hush in the room deepened. Hoseok turned his head and nearly forgot how to breathe. Taehyung lounged half draped over the arm of the couch,  a painting come alive. His blonde hair fell in tousled waves over his brow, casting soft shadows on cheekbones that looked carved by the gods themselves. His lips curved in a lazy, feline smile, but his eyes — dark, dreamy, almost sad — flicked over Hoseok with an intimacy that made his chest flutter. The dragon’s magic curled in the air around him like smoke — old, warm, and humming with unspoken promise. Then there was Yoongi.

Yoongi stood just behind the others, half in shadow, half lit by the golden glow of the pendant lamps. He was smaller than the others but carried a presence that pressed against Hoseok’s bones. His features were sharp but deceptively soft in repose, until you reached his eyes.

Those eyes. Crescent-shaped, gleaming bright sapphire rimmed with molten gold, like a frozen star on the edge of dawn. They fixed on Hoseok as if peeling him apart, layer by layer, wordless secrets and buried truths held up to the light. Hoseok shivered under that gaze — a predator’s patience mixed with the promise of sanctuary. Yoongi’s tongue darted out, slow and deliberate, to wet his lower lip. Hoseok caught the movement, a subtle tilt of Yoongi’s head as if he’d scented something interesting. Hoseok’s stomach swooped. He was so sure the witch could taste every hidden spell still clinging to his pulse. A low rumble broke the spell, Jungkook’s belly, embarrassing and real. The youngest ducked his head, grinning sheepishly as one hand rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, guess Jin-hyung’s cooking will always do this to me.”

The tension cracked like glass struck by a stone. The room erupted in soft laughter, warmth curling around Hoseok’s ribs. Seokjin rolled his eyes but his smile was fond. Namjoon clapped his hands together once, authoritative yet kind. “Alright, before Jungkook eats the table itself, let’s eat. Come, Hobi — sit beside me.” Hoseok felt himself guided gently but firmly toward the grand dining table. He could still feel Yoongi’s eyes on his nape,  a ghostly heat that lingered even when he dared not look back. As the coven settled around him,  brushing against his shoulders, legs tangling under the table, soft laughs rumbling like thunderclouds — Hoseok exhaled shakily.

He could do this. He would do this.
He just had to keep his secrets stitched tight under his skin.
And pray that Min Yoongi’s eyes never found the loose threads.

The clink of glasses and soft hum of conversation soon filled the wide dining room. Hoseok sat nestled between Jimin and Jungkook at a long, dark wooden table that gleamed under the overhead chandelier. The air was warm with the scent of roasted meat, garlic, and something floral and sweet that Hoseok couldn’t quite place but knew came from Jimin, the way magic dripped off him like nectar when he laughed.

Namjoon sat at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, wine glass held loosely between long fingers as he watched Hoseok with that same calm, all-knowing patience. When Hoseok’s gaze flickered to him, Namjoon’s gaze burned holes through his body lighting a small fire inside him, Hoseok flushed but didn’t look away.

“So, Hoseok,” Namjoon said as  Seokjin came from the kitchen with a steaming dish, setting it gently on the “Tell us more about you. About your clan Family. Or your dancing. Or anything you’d like to share.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples on full display.

Jimin immediately leaned closer, chin propped on his palm, wide eyes drinking Hoseok in. Jungkook rested his forearm along the back of Hoseok’s chair, warm and protective in a way that made Hoseok’s chest squeeze tight.

“Oh, um.” Hoseok wet his lips, glancing down at his plate — rice piled beside tender slices of spiced pork and sautéed vegetables shimmering with oil and herbs. “There’s not much to tell, really.  I have two sisters, my oldest is currently abroad in the US studying and my other sister lives with her oven mates and she owns her own magical beast clinic. And I… Well, I dance.”

Jungkook’s fingers drummed lightly near the nape of Hoseok’s neck. “You don’t just dance. You teach others to feel, to be more than they believe, when they move. That’s a gift. Don’t downplay it.” Hoseok’s cheeks burned. Jimin giggled, leaning even closer until their shoulders touched. “He’s right. I’ve seen you, you know. After your classes, sometimes you stay behind to help the younger kids? That’s beautiful.” Hoseok’s throat tightened at the praise — warm and unfamiliar, like honey seeping into old cracks in his heart. He hadn’t realized they watched him that closely. Or maybe he had, deep down, but never let himself believe he was worth that kind of attention.

Namjoon’s voice drew him out of his daze. “So your sister is part of the IM coven im assuming” Hoseok nodded but refused to look into Namjoons eyes “hmm” Hoseok bit his lips his brain told him to shut up and keep his mouth closed but listening to his brain was clearly something he wasn't capable of doing. “Do you have something against the IM coven?” Hoseok grimaced, he wanted to stab himself with the chopstick  right where he sat Namjoon sighed “no, not at all and I am sorry if we gave the impression, I know IM Jaebum very well and I hold nothing but respect for him, he is a kind man and a great leader”

Hoseok blinked fast, overwhelmed by the unexpected respect. His voice wobbled. “Thank you… for saying that. JB hyung really  is the best” Hoseok couldn't help but smile at the thought of his hyung “I love the IM coven they take care of me and love me like their own” if  Hoseok could he would spend hours rambling about the Im coven, clearly he was the only who shared that sentiment. The jealous stares and crushed lips were missed by Hoseok but sure enough were there.

“Hyung, we're gonna have to hide you from the world” Jungkook muttered, stealing a bite of pork from Hoseok’s plate with his chopsticks. Hoseok squeaked in protest but didn’t stop him — especially when Jimin did the same, giggling when Hoseok swatted at his hand halfheartedly.

“Hey! Get your own!”

“But yours tastes better,” Jimin teased, lips curved wickedly as he popped the stolen morsel between his teeth. He chewed, then winked, his magic flaring sweet and electric, a phantom brush down Hoseok’s spine that made him shiver and grip the edge of his plate. Namjoon watched the exchange with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly amused by how easily Jimin and Jungkook wrapped themselves around Hoseok’s space and how Hoseok didn’t push them away. Halfway through the meal, the conversation drifted: talk of upcoming coven meetings, festival preparations, the rituals they wanted Hoseok to see — if he wanted.

Jimin told embarrassing stories about Jungkook’s failed first spells. Jungkook retaliated with a dramatic reenactment of the time Jimin accidentally enchanted the entire east wing of their old manor to smell like peaches for three months. Between laughter and mouthfuls of food, Hoseok felt the tight coil of his fear loosen, replaced by warmth that glowed low and bright in his chest. Every brush of Jimin’s fingers at his wrist, every absentminded tap of Jungkook’s knee against his under the table — it layered over him like a soft blanket he didn’t know he’d been missing. Near the end of dinner, Hoseok caught Namjoon watching him again, When dessert came, tiny pastries filled with honey and cream, sticky sweet on Hoseok’s lips , Jimin took his finger and licked a smear from the corner of Hoseok’s mouth with a boldness that made Hoseok choke on a he was quickly scolded by Seokjin who swatted at the back of his head.

Hoseok hummed softly, savoring the sweet bite of dessert that practically melted on his tongue. A delicate tart, flaky and warm, drizzled with honey and dusted with powdered sugar — Jin really was a master in the kitchen. He let the taste linger, letting it distract him from the eyes he knew were all watching him, every subtle expression dissected and devoured like he was another course on the table.Namjoon cleared his throat lightly, a sound that carried the weight of command without a single hint of force. Hoseok froze mid-bite, spoon hovering just shy of his lips. He swallowed quickly — too quickly — and nearly choked on the sweetness.

“So, Hoseok…” Namjoon began, voice smooth as aged whiskey. His eyes, dark and steady behind his glasses, caught Hoseok’s wide gaze. “I know you’re taking a course on magical theory. And we know your sister’s in a coven too. I’m sure your hyungs have told you their perspective on what… this means. But I’d like to explain our side myself, if that’s alright with you.”

Hoseok’s shoulders stiffened, a tremor of nerves sparking down his spine. He set his spoon down with a tiny clink against the porcelain plate, fingers curling shyly in his lap. “Uh— yes. Yes, of course. I’d like that,” he managed, voice smaller than he meant it to be.

Namjoon’s smile softened, so warm it nearly melted the knots in Hoseok’s stomach. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped loosely over the backrest — a king at his court, but somehow gentle . “Well, I know you’ve done your research, probably found things on all of us, good and bad. But I’ll tell you myself.”

He tapped the table lightly with his finger, as if collecting stray magic into his words. “I’m an incantor. It’s an old title, older than most think. It means I can cast spells, of course — but not just common spells. I can read and speak every language, including ancient tongues that only incantors can decipher. I have a family grimoire, passed down for centuries — filled with spells my ancestors wrote by hand. Some of those incantations can shift storms, shape earth, even rewrite what we think is unchangeable.”

Hoseok’s lips parted in a small, breathless oh. Before he could gather himself, Jimin perked up, practically bouncing in his chair. “Hyung once stopped a whole tsunami from hitting Busan’s coast,” he piped up proudly, his voice warm and soft but ringing with bright pride. “I was there,  it was so cool. He just stood there and sang the tide back, basically.”

Namjoon huffed a low laugh, ducking his head shyly at the praise, but Hoseok could feel the flicker of power that danced just beneath the surface — something ancient, humming like a low chord in the air.

Then Jin’s soft chuckle slid in next. “As you know, darling, I’m a vampire — oldest one in Korea, depending on who you ask.” He tipped his wine glass, crimson liquid swirling like silk. “I turned 106 this year. Gifts in our kind vary — some get night sight, some strength, some illusions. Mine are mirror portals.”

Hoseok blinked, his spoon forgotten entirely. “Mirror portals?” he echoed, head tilting in that soft, instinctive curiosity that made Jimin’s lips quirk into an affectionate grin.

Jin’s smile turned sharp and sweet all at once. “Yes — any reflective surface is a door for me. I can step through one mirror and walk out another. Even across cities, as long as the glass is unbroken. It makes traffic wonderfully irrelevant.” He winked over his glass, canines glinting faintly under the dining room lights. Taehyung, lounging lazily beside Jin, barked out a soft laugh that rumbled warm in his chest. “Hyung’s mirror jokes are older than him.”

Jin scoffed dramatically, setting down his glass with a gentle clink. “Yet you laughed. Admit it, I’m hilarious.” Taehyung shook his head slowly, dark eyes glinting like molten amber. “I laughed at you, not with you.”

“Yah—” Jin lunged playfully, flicking a rolled napkin at Taehyung, who dodged with an easy grin.

“And,” Taehyung drawled, voice suddenly smoother than wine, eyes flicking to Hoseok — pinning him there, deliciously. “As Jin-hyung so graciously said — Yoongi-hyung and I are dragons.” The word hung heavy in the air — dragons. Hoseok’s breath caught again, a tiny shiver skating down his spine. Taehyung’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “We have many gifts. Fire, flight, shifting. Strength that could break stone.” His eyes dropped to Hoseok’s mouth for half a heartbeat. “And we’d be more than happy to show you… all of it. ”

Hoseok’s cheeks flamed bright pink, his hands fisting into the fabric of his pants under the table. He barely noticed when Yoongi leaned forward at Taehyung’s side, pale fingers drumming lightly on the polished wood. His crescent eyes glowed faintly under the chandelier, pinning Hoseok like prey. “What Tae means,” Yoongi murmured, voice soft but the words barbed with heat, “is that we’re very… generous with what’s ours.”

Hoseok’s pulse skittered so hard he was sure they could hear it. He barely registered Jungkook’s soft laugh as the youngest jumped in to save him — his voice all brightness, eyes wide with soft concern.

“I’m a healer,” Jungkook said quickly, leaning his chin on his palm. “I can heal wounds, sickness, poisons. And I have an Arkany familiar — he helps me channel magic when it gets too strong. He’s big, grumpy, and sheds everywhere.” Jungkook’s nose scrunched, his tattoos dancing with the shift of his jaw.

Jimin leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing Hoseok’s just slightly,  enough to make Hoseok’s breath catch again. “And I’m a siren,” he purred, voice dripping honey and moonlight. “My voice… well. It can get me in trouble if I’m not careful.”

Hoseok’s breath caught. He felt it — the faint tug in his gut, a ripple of something older than bones that wanted to lean closer, to listen, to obey. For a heartbeat he wondered — if Jimin told him to kneel right now, would he? He might. Gods, he might.

Jimin’s eyes flicked down to Hoseok’s parted lips, and he giggled — the tension snapping like a silk ribbon cut with sharp shears. “Just kidding, hyung,” he teased, voice all sunlight now, but the heat lingered.

Namjoon cleared his throat — that low, warm hum that wrapped around the edges of the moment like a gentle arm over tense shoulders. “With those introductions,” he said, his eyes kind but glittering with something deep, “you now know us — the Kim coven.” He paused, and even the shadows seemed to hold their breath. “And then… there’s you.”

Hoseok’s mouth went dry. He licked his lips without thinking — a nervous, fleeting flick of tongue over the soft swell of his bottom lip. The reaction was immediate. Six sets of eyes locked on him — tracking that tiny movement like wolves sighting prey in the snow. Hoseok’s pulse stuttered under the weight of their hunger.

“M-me?” he managed, voice rough, too small in this vast room full of so much magic, so much want.

“Yes, you, Hobi.” Namjoon’s dimple flickered into view, deceptively gentle. “You’re human. So you can’t feel it the same way we do — the bond, the pull.”

If only they knew. If only they knew how hard he fought not to drown in that pull. How deep it clawed under his ribs, scraping at the edges of his carefully bound magic, whispering: They’re yours — let them see.

Namjoon went on, voice soft but heavy with old truths. “Most covens who bond with a human wouldn’t even know it — not without physical closeness, real contact. But…” He turned slightly, and Hoseok felt Jimin’s smug smile like fingertips ghosting over his bare throat. “It’s different when there’s an Amante witch in the circle.”

Jimin didn’t speak — he didn’t have to. His eyes said enough. They shone like candlelight caught in seawater, warm and wild and knowing. Hoseok shivered under that look, heat licking up his neck to his ears.

“For an Amante,” Namjoon murmured, his voice a low chord in the charged air, “a single look is enough. That’s how Jimin found you. Saw you at dance — and the bond snapped tight. So tight it cracked his magic wide open. Unheard of, even for us.”

Hoseok’s fingers twitched in his lap, pressing into his knees to keep from trembling. His own magic stirred like a restless beast, hungry to reach back, to answer. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper. He wouldn’t slip. He couldn’t.

He let his gaze drift — daring to look. Jungkook was leaning forward now, wide eyes bright with something shy but needy. Taehyung’s dark gaze moved slowly over him like the brush of velvet and teeth. Jin’s smile was all lazy fangs and moonlight, a predator’s promise dressed in silk. And Yoongi — Hoseok should not have looked at Yoongi.

Yoongi’s stare pinned him like an arrow through the chest — cold, precise, hungry. His eyes were so dark they swallowed the candlelight, but the faint ring of gold burned like a secret oath. It made Hoseok’s skin itch with the need to confess everything — just to see if that cold fire would swallow him whole.

Seokjin’s voice finally cut through the thick, crackling hush. “So, Hoseok,” he said, rolling his name over his tongue like a sweet. “Tonight marks the beginning of our courting. Our claim. If you want it.” His lips parted on a sly smile that showed just a glimpse of sharp white fang. “Unless you’d rather refuse. We would… respect that.”

Would they? Hoseok wondered. Could he really walk away? He could almost laugh at himself — imagining a life without this terrible, beautiful pull. Without the promise of soft words from Namjoon’s careful mouth, the warm slide of Jungkook’s touch, Jimin’s teasing hush against his throat, Taehyung’s unwavering, hungry devotion. Without Yoongi’s eyes stripping him bare.

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Hoseok exhaled, his pulse roaring in his ears. He met Yoongi’s gaze again — just for a moment. He didn’t flinch this time, even as his magic thrummed against its cage, wanting out. Wanting them.

“I…” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. He forced the word out like an offering.

The floorboards barely creaked beneath Hoseok’s feet,  yet each step still felt thunderously loud in his ears. His breath kept catching in his throat, lungs burning with shallow gulps of air. Beads of sweat prickled at his hairline, sliding in warm trails down the nape of his neck.  It wasn’t the manor’s warmth doing this to him,  it was him . The dragon trailing behind him like a shadow made of winter fire and sharp eyes, gaze pinned between Hoseok’s shoulder blades. Hoseok could feel Yoongi watching every twitch of his fingers, every uneven rise and fall of his chest. It made the heat in his belly coil tighter,  a relentless ache he didn’t dare name. 

the coven nicely offered him a quick tour of the east wing of the manor, that was all he has time for before leaving, and of course his tour guide was none other Min Yoongi himself, there was something about the dragon the lit a fire in him one that made him ache in the burn, his skin was a flush strawberry red his breath was short and the tingles he felt were relentless. They’d paused in front of a door halfway down the east wing — the corridor quiet as a heartbeat at midnight. 

It was carved from solid gold, heavy filigree dancing across its broad surface in impossible fractal swirls, vines and scales and ancient runes so small they shimmered like hidden secrets. Embedded in the curling design were clusters of diamonds, not one or two, but hundreds . The gems caught the faint lantern light overhead, scattering it like shards of moonlight across the polished marble floor.Hoseok’s lips parted on a breathless laugh. “Hyung…” he stammered, voice cracking as he looked over his shoulder, straight into those half-lidded, crescent-moon eyes that glowed with lazy, dangerous amusement. “Are those… diamonds ? In the door ?”

Yoongi stepped forward — so close now that the faint, cold brush of his magic threaded through the air, kissing the nape of Hoseok’s neck. With one elegant flick of his wrist, he turned the diamond-crusted handle. The heavy door cracked open with a soft groan, releasing a hush of air that smelled like age and flame and something sweeter buried beneath. Yoongi dipped his head closer, voice brushing the shell of Hoseok’s ear. “Go on,” he murmured, the heat of him making Hoseok’s spine straighten painfully. “It’s safe.”The reassurance shouldn’t have made Hoseok’s stomach drop like that,  but it did. He stepped forward, heart in his throat, breath shallow. Inside, the room swallowed him whole.  It was a sanctuary . Gold was here, yes — in soft veins running through ancient chests and open crates spilling coins onto marble floors. . Rubies the size of plums, sapphires like frozen ocean eyes, emeralds glowing darkly in velvet-lined chests left half-open as if they’d spilled their secrets ages ago.

Stacks of thick bills lay wedged between gilt candelabras and ancient scrolls sealed with wax so old it had cracked into dust. Amid the hoard, half-hidden, Hoseok caught sight of things that made his throat tighten, a ceremonial dagger with a dragon carved into its hilt, a battered leather book etched in runes that hummed faintly at his magic’s edge, a silver circlet too delicate for any mortal crown.But there were other treasures, too,  carefully arranged books older than kingdoms, rows of instruments crafted from bone and pearl, scrolls sealed with wax stamps so dark they drank the light. A low table sat near the back wall, carved from a single massive block of obsidian veined with something like starlight. On it sat an assortment of delicate objects: a faded photo in a silver frame, a ring shaped like a coiled serpent, an old pendant worn smooth. 

And there, in the middle of it all absurd and obscene in its intimacy lay a bed. Massive, wide enough to swallow a man whole, draped in dark red silk that shimmered with the same quiet promise as blood under moonlight. Pillows piled high and heavy, shadows clinging to them like they’d witnessed a thousand secrets Hoseok wasn’t sure he was ready to know.

He stepped forward, boots sinking slightly into a scatter of gold coins that clinked and shifted like restless snakes. “This is…” he whispered, his voice so small in the cavernous hush. “Yoongi-hyung, what is this? ” Yoongi drifted in behind him, his presence cold and hot all at once. 

Yoongi’s voice came soft and deadly near his ear. “A hoard,” he murmured, each syllable brushing the sensitive shell. “ My hoard. Every dragon has one, Taehyungs is on the west wing.” His fingertips ghosted over Hoseok’s elbow, barely there, but enough to ground him and shatter him in the same heartbeat. Hoseok turned, startled to find Yoongi so close he could count every faint line at the corner of his eyes. Close enough to see the shimmer of scales like liquid gold just under his collarbone, peeking from the edge of his loose shirt.“And the bed?” Hoseok asked, stupidly — breathless, staring at that impossible sprawl of silk and shadow and secrets.

Yoongi’s smile brushed against the edge of his jaw,  Hoseok felt it, heat and threat and promise. “Even dragons need a place to rest,” he said. “To guard what’s theirs .” He paused,  Hoseok felt those sharp eyes rake over his flushed skin, lingering on his parted lips, the rapid pulse in his throat. “And sometimes,” Yoongi murmured, voice dropping to something that made Hoseok’s knees nearly buckle, “they invite someone worthy to share it.”

Hoseok’s heart thundered in his chest. He didn’t dare turn back around,  because if he did, he’d see that look again. The one that promised Yoongi knew exactly what he was. Exactly what he was hiding . And exactly what it would feel like to be claimed, here, buried under endless gold, silk pressed to overheated skin, secrets torn out with teeth and praise. That was impossible of course no one would accept his magic. Hoseok swallowed, mouth dry. The room didn’t feel cold anymore,  it felt like it was burning . Like he was burning. Yoongi spun Hoseok around, his hands tightly squeezing his waist,pushing him against the desk, gold coins playing a song as they fell to the floor. Yoongi’s lips brushed against his neck up to his ear  

“Tell me, flower…”   

The ghost of a smile touched Yoongi’s lips. “What do you think you would mean to me, if I chose to keep you here too?”

Hoseok didn’t trust his knees to hold. He didn’t trust his mouth to answer. All he could do was stand there, wrapped in candlelight, silk shadows, and a dragon’s patient, dangerous promise.

And Yoongi just watched him, no rush, no push — as if he knew Hoseok would choose the hoard. Choose coven .

~*~*~*

let me know what yall think of todays chapter!