You Need a North Star - DesperatelyObsessional - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys (2024)

Chapter 1: Worldbuilding

Chapter Text

Guides

Guides are the only ones who can see and manipulate auras. It feels very real and tangible to them. On occasion, some rare Guides have claimed that they could reach out and them. These Guides were deemed to be liars.

Guides are valued in the way a priceless vase from a far off planet would be. A possession, a pretty, worldly gem worth protecting. Something an owner would go out of their way for. But at the end of the day- it’s something their owners cannot relate to at all. They couldn’t begin to explain how it was made or what was originally supposed to be put in it. They wouldn’t know at all that the vase they value so much was actually a cradle for that people’s larva young, and the soft, plush coating that they ripped out from the inside, that they had considered the equivalent of rot or mold, was one of the best antibacterial materials in the galaxy.

Guides are systematically discriminated against, which is only worsened by their poor luck in the genetic lottery.

Guides are very weak, sensitive things who are incredibly prone to Guide sickness. Guide sickness, of course, is a catch-all term for everything that Guides experience that the state can’t explain. Guide sickness is the worst thing a Guide can experience, and Guides need to be watched closely, under the supervision of an older, more experienced Guide to protect the young child Guide from medical disaster.

A young Guide growing up with with anything less is neglect.

How unfortunate then, the Guide gene doesn’t follow family lines. It skips generations at a time. Couples are not only shocked when they have bear a Guide, but wholly unprepared, with the new infant being the only Guide in the family.

Of course, perhaps, if the couple found a Guide nearby willing to mentor their child, maybe they’d be able to keep their baby. Except, all Guides are bound to Sentinels- either away in combat, or domestically staying by their Sentinel’s side and waiting on them hand and foot. And those spoiled, privileged Sentinels see no point in their Guide doing the taboo and mentoring a child and dividing their attention.

Or perhaps an old retired Guide could look after many children, and keep them close to home. Except- studies have conveniently found that many Guides living under one roof without Sentinel supervision have been correlated to increased Guide sickness.

Further- there are no retired Guides.

Guides are taken by the Crown when young. They go through the Crown’s schooling are sent down the military pipeline. They are required to bond to a Sentinel or become an auxiliary Guide on bases, meant for emergencies. Guides have a mandated military service of 40 years.

Guides who have no genetic enhancements, who enter service, are mandated to serve until they are sixty years of age. Most Sentinels will pay for their Guide’s life extending treatments. Most will offer more permanent solutions of genetic treatments, many offer temporary stem cell treatments- regardless, the length of a Guide’s life is entirely in the hands of their Sentinel.

Further, after 40 years of no support system, and the pay from the crown being entirely meager, these Guides are dependent on their Sentinels in every sense of the term. As an old Guide who wishes to retire and separate from their Sentinel, their hands are almost entirely tied.

Even if Guides could afford property, no one will sell property to a Guide without a Sentinel co-signing (studies have found higher mortality rates amongst older Guides living alone). Doctors will not prescribe treatment nor operate on Guides unless they have a Sentinel who could aid with Guide distress (higher mortality rates amongst Guides who are separated from their Sentinel). Guides have trouble finding work that isn’t employed by the crown and tutoring young Guides going through the same schooling they once had.

And it’s not as though they could tutor those kids outside the Crown’s led system- they have no home, no funds, and no support to hold themselves up on, let alone offer support to another.

Sentinels

Sentinels are privileged in a numerous amount of ways.

The Sentinel gene follows family lines, allowing families to teach their own children what it means to be a Sentinel. Generational knowledge is accumulated, valued, and passed on. Generational wealth is accumulated and passed on. Privilege, connections, opportunities.

Sentinels are more physically capable. Simply by nature of definition. Strong senses, a valued skill; it’s easier to be an exceptional violinist, if you can feel the tiniest vibrations of your strings in your bow.

Long lines of consistently capable people, more capable people, more valued people, have created massive generational wealth. This wealth has been largely invested in medical engineering, which has made capable Sentinels become exceptional.

It’s created “families” of Sentinels known for the genetic engineering that is both passed down to children and the procedures done to children as they grow.

These families create a sort of oligarchy in Terra. They have specialized and monopolized every industry.

Nearly all Sentinels are required to have 20 years of military service; and it’s only through this path that they can receive a Guide. Though, for Sentinels, who can live up to nearly three hundred years if they take care of themselves, this is hardly a large ask. It is also not nearly as demanding as it is of their Guide counterparts.

If Sentinels chose to end their service after twenty years, they can either petition to wave their Guide’s service short, a request that is always granted- so long as it’s filled by a Sentinel. Or, if not, their Guides will still have a remaining service, and they will often become auxiliary Guides on camps. These Guides usually never survive to complete their full twenty years; these Guides are also rarely offered medical enhancements to aid their function in their worsening age.

Sentinel cannot see aura, and largely consider most of it rubbish and unscientific.

Sentinels after leaving service, will usually keep their Guides as lovers and mistresses in their large homes. As they grow older, they tend to become nannies for the family’s Sentinel children, able to help the young ones out of little zones as they grow up. Children from these unions, however, is incredibly taboo and indecent. Generally, marriage is usually considered between Sentinels or Nulls.

Sentinels will almost always marry another Sentinel; anything different would be gossip amongst social circles for years.

Titles

Bangtan- all have honorary General titles

Formal to Informal- General, Kim/Sentinel Kim, Sir, First Names

Chapter 2: Prologue

Chapter Text

Namjoon stood in the doorway, suddenly unsure of himself and his plan. He thought…

Well, he wasn’t sure what he thought. Regardless of his uncertainty, the sight before him was not what he expected.

It was past dinner time; the setting sun streaming orange light through the library windows. Dark mahogany wood paneled the floor and rose up the numerous bookcases- bookcases which were gravid with paper books. There wasn’t a single electric light in sight. The bright fireplace, candles, mirrors, and elongated windows lit the room with a blossoming orange hue.

On a planet of blue circuitboards, Ambassador Kim’s estate was an oasis of historical tranquility or, perhaps, a desert, lacking the vibrance of reality.

Ambassador Kim, himself, didn’t look at him, allowing Namjoon a moment to analyze the scene before him, albeit somewhat blatantly. Ambassador Kim was sat on one of the worn leather couches, a heavy fur blanket spread over his lap (too plain to be from an off-planet beast). His gaze was focused on the book in his lap. Namjoon couldn’t see the title. He wore black silky clothes, with a high neck, excessively long pant legs, and sleeves that hung past his finger tips. With his house slippers and embroidered house robe, there was not an inch of his skin visible apart from his face.

But that was enough- His face glowed with the comforting warmth of a newly birthed sun. Ambassador Kim’s luminescence was spoken of across the galaxy, and it was easy to see why. Specks of gold flickered under his skin, dancing in slow circles, like stars circling their own galaxies. There was almost a metallic sort of glimmer on his cheekbones and the line of his nose. The room was bathed in orange sunlight and yellow firelight, and yet- the Ambassador was the brightest, most captivating thing in the room.

The most captivating thing Namjoon had ever seen.

The way one’s eyes burned when their looked at the sun- the same way Namjoon’s thoughts burned away at the sight of Kim Seokjin’s famous beauty. If Namjoon was a decade or two younger, he might have been worried about zoning.

Namjoon understood why he was called the Sunlight Prince, the Light of the Empire, the Eligible Sun of Terra.

Namjoon could barely register that it was a man in front of him.

If Apollo has ever stepped foot on this Earth, he would look like Ambassador Kim.

“Are you quite finished?” the Ambassador questioned, voice soft and quiet.

Namjoon’s back snapped straight, thoughts clearing and then immediately falling back into chaos when the Ambassador’s gaze fell on him.

The Ambassador had skin like the sun- and eyes like the abyss.

And as impossibly striking as his skin was- his gaze swallowed Namjoon whole.

—

Seokjin wasn’t sure why he accepted Namjoon Kim’s query. He no longer allowed people to enter his estate, let alone take an audience with him. Seokjin had fashioned himself into an island, painstakingly pouring salt in the water, making the surrounding hundreds of kilometers inhospitable to life. And yet, here was a man on a dingy, leaking rowboat, fingers pruning and skin flaking with salt.

There was nothing to inform Seokjin’s decision.

No fact or tidbit that stopped Seokjin from saying no, and no insight that induced him to say yes.

There was just silence, the name “Namjoon Kim”, and the words “I need your help.”

And maybe, somewhere in Seokjin’s bitter, broken chest, there had been a half-evaporated drop of charity.

Seokjin watched the man watch him. Seokjin did it subtly, out of the corner of his eye, but it wasn’t as though it mattered. Everyone was always dumb-struck the first time they saw his skin- it didn’t matter if he spoke, if he waved, if he did a summersault- they’d stare at any exposed inch of his flesh all the same.

Once the moment had stretched long enough, Seokjin finally spoke. “Are you quite finished?”

Seokjin turned his head up, finally looking directly at Namjoon. The man seemed to falter briefly, as if surprised that the glowing piece of art in front of him could talk. He recovered quickly. “Yes. I’m so sorry. You’re just…”

Seokjin waited for the word, eyes drifting back to the fireplace in front of him. He was almost curious. Would it be the very cliche ‘beautiful’? The more poetic ‘enchanting’ and ‘breath-taking’. Maybe the sun-themed rhetoric ‘dazzling’ and ‘brilliant’. What did Namjoon Kim think of his skin?

Namjoon said none of these things.

He said nothing at all.

When Seokjin looked back at Namjoon, Namjoon looked back at him. His eyes didn’t drift for a moment. There was none of that typical nonsense, where someone’s eyes would roam along the lines of Seokjin’s face as a paltry excuse for eye-contact. Namjoon’s eyes were fixed on his.

Seokjin wondered if a stranger had ever looked him in the eyes before.

“Has anyone ever told you, Ambassador Kim,” Namjoon said, swallowing, “That you’re quite the conundrum?” enigma

“As in, I am a difficult problem to be solved?” Seokjin questioned.

“Wrong word, maybe ‘enigma’ may fit better.”

“How cliche.”

“Puzzling?”

“Plebeian.”

Seokjin continued to stare at Namjoon Kim, who had yet to move from the doorway.

Namjoon stared back.

The pair stood in silence, charged but languid. Seokjin closed the book in his lap; his hands, covered by the fabric of his sleeves, rested on top of the worn leather.

Namjoon crossed his arms, resting his shoulder against the door frame, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. The man had frown lines- Seokjin rather thought they made him look distinguished. The sight was reminiscent of a famous philosopher’s portrait that was hanging in the palace, except Namjoon was far more aesthetically pleasing.

Namjoon wet his lip, frown lines disappearing.

“When I was young, my father enjoyed taking our ship out. Dads and warp speed, right? Well, he jumped a little too far in the wrong direction. Our ship stopped looked into the eye of a black hole. I was less than an s-click away. I remember looking out of the window with the eye looming in front of me. I was only twelve, but I’ll never forget how I felt looking into it,” Namjoon’s lips twitched, looking at Seokjin with an odd sort of warmth. “Your gaze inspires the same feeling.”

“Fear?”

“Terror. The bone-chilling sort.”

Seokjin’s chest panged. From what? Why? For good or for bad- Seokjin wasn’t sure. All he knew was that no one had ever called him terrifying before.

Seokjin looked at the man before him, still somewhat stunned that the man was looking back.

“You said you needed my help, yes, Namjoon Kim?” Seokjin leaned back in his seat, gesturing towards the other arm chair, “Take a seat.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Kim,” Kim Namjoon smiled.

A smile full of teeth.

—

“I’ll hear your pitch,” Seokjin said, “Keep it concise.”

Namjoon nodded, settling himself into the armchair. Seokjin was sitting on the couch, leaning against the arm rest instead of the back rest. His curled up legs were covered by his mink fur blanket. Namjoon leaned back in his chair, fully, then slightly, before deciding to sit straight with no support.

Young, Seokjin noted.

“The world is developing at an exponential rate. In just three centuries, we have gone from being the only sentient life in the galaxy to a mere blip in the ever-increasing crowd of our peers.”

“Three centuries is a long time, Namjoon. Longer than my lifetime.”

“You’re still young Ambassador Kim, don’t discredit yourself. Regardless- It’s not long enough to build strong diplomatic ties. We have made contact with over four hundred humanoid races and half as many combatant races. We are out-numbered to a debilitating degree.”

“As long as Terra doesn’t offend anyone, I fail to see the issue in being out-numbered.”

“It is not Terra that will be offensive. It will be the decisions of a Terran, and when that happens, there is no structure for mediation. At current, we have very haphazard trade agreements with Florintane, Cozaant, and Rygiriza. They could easily crumble with any change in leadership.”

“Trade benefits us all. That won’t happen.”

“Trade has made us dependent. Our economy would suffer, our power-grid is vulnerable. As you well know, a large percentage of our energy is imported.”

“My family are still Terrans,” Seokjin corrected.

“Your family settled on uninhabited moons in the _ district. They do not pay tax to the Crown. They have bought moons out-right from other empires. They do not fulfill the requirements of being a Terran citizen- And while they have been responsible with their position, we cannot trust others to be as inoffensive.”

Namjoon started gesticulating with his hands in a very inexperienced sort of way.

Seokjin hummed.

“Terra has been lucky that our peers have been wary of each other. We would have a head start in establishing an intergalactic structure for trade; we would be able to set the tone of the alliance’s customs. We can create the expectation of peaceful cooperation across the galaxy.”

“Yes?”

Seokjin already knew what the point was, but he was curious if Namjoon would be able to make the idea sound less delusional than it was inherently.

“I want Terra to focus its efforts on inter-planetary diplomacy, with the goal of establishing a strong, structured trade alliance between reliable, closely-aligned planets, with the intention of creating an unified Federation over the next century,” Namjoon said, voice full of conviction, looking like an optimistic idiot.

Seokjin sighed, tipping his head back, staring at the pale pine wood ceiling. Their light color had begun to darken with the dimming light of the setting sun.

“And here I thought you were an educated man, Namjoon.”

“I am. Disgustingly so, I’ve been told.”

“I digress, as this idea is inordinately moronic. Moreover- however, I fail to understand why you would approach me with this.”

“Ambassador Kim. You are the only member of the royal family who has spent an extended period of time off-planet. You have visited a number of planets that I consider good candidates- and they all have high opinion of you. You were a former consort on the planet of Florintane, and your daughter-”

“Enough,” Seokjin snapped.

Silence.

Namjoon’s heart rate spiked, but returned to baseline fairly quickly all things considered.

Seokjin counted dust particles on the ceiling, distracting himself from the memories that threatened to surface.

“Ambassador Kim…” Namjoon started. When Seokjin didn’t stop him, he continued.

“You are the only expert on Terra on interplanetary diplomacy. You are the only legitimate interplanetary diplomat on Terra. Everyone I have spoken to, from the Crown Princess to the six Prime Ministers to the Head of the Terran military had welcomed the idea and was prepared to invest any resources necessary to acquire a fatter golden goose- You, Ambassador Kim, are the only person on Terra who could fathom the insurmountable effort this undertaking would require.”

Seokjin closed his eyes. Exhaling. Debating with himself

“If you decline- I won’t pursue the project. Your expertise is essential.”

Namjoon was good. Seokjin would give him that. He most certainly had a future in politics, regardless of how young and inexperienced he was. Seokjin had underestimated him.

Seokjin, an owner of a silver tongue himself, knew how to push someone’s buttons. Seokjin had slithered out of many tricky situations with just his words. He had convinced people to walk off proverbial cliffs for him.

So he understood that Namjoon was lying, lying very well.

He had to be.

Because…

Seokjin-

Well.

Seokjin has never been considered essential.

Not by anyone.

Kim Seokjin was only son of the third aunt of the current Crown Princess, twelveth in line for the throne, unnamed heir for the Kim Energy fortune, former consort of the Empress of the _ planet, estranged father of-

If Seokjin were to summarize his long list of titles, he could do so with a single word: replaceable. Seokjin slipped into the crevices of the world and painstakingly carved them into a temporary cot, just so that he could have some temporary relief.

He was exhausted.

He wanted to read every book in his library. After that, he always thought he’d walk out into the estate garden, lay in the shade of his perfectly pruned trees, and just never get up again.

Essential.

If Seokjin were to keel over, right at this moment, Seokjin wondered who, other than the tabloids, would care to know.

“Ambassador Kim?”

Seokjin inhaled, opening his eyes, mind not even close to being made up. He looked at Namjoon, his expression likely suggesting the unhinged nature of his thoughts, as Namjoon’s eyebrows raised in response.

“You could be a Prime Minister in a few years, you know,” Seokjin said, before closing his eyes, hands covering his face.

“Would I have your vote?”

“Vote? You’d somehow convince me to sponsor you, I’m sure.”

A beat of silence, as Namjoon processed the indirect jab.

Namjoon appeared to be incredibly naive, but yet, there was some sort of political instinct there that kept the man on target.

“Ambassador Kim… I’m really not here to convince you of anything. Well, I’m here because I hope you would see merit in the project, and I’m happy to negotiate your position and compensation. However, I’m not mis-representing the situation in any regard. I’ve spoken to a number of other high-ranked officials, most of whom rigorously fact-checked my proposal. I’d be happy to connect you with any of them.”

Seokjin spread his fingers slightly, allowing him to see through the gaps between his fingers. Namjoon was looking at him, eyes wide, face emphatic, hands open.

Once again, Seokjin was struck by the novelty of legitimate eye contact Namjoon provided him. With only deep red light of the dusk sun and the ebbing fireplace to illuminate the room, the library had become dim enough for Seokjin to see the predatory green glint in Namjoon’s eyes.

That’s right- Namjoon was the Capital Kim’s little prince, wasn’t he?

“I doubt your family would be pleased by your push for peace. They do directly profit from the current disorder.”

“My family and I are estranged. Besides, every strong structure requires some method of reinforcement. They’ll find their place in it all.”

Seokjin lowered his hands from his face, tilting his head, “That sounds like militarized violence to me.”

Namjoon leaned forward, forearms resting on his elbows, “I am not against violence as a concept.”

Seokjin’s lips pursed, a flicker of amusem*nt. “No? You came in here with a very lofty proposal for peace, Namjoon.”

Kim Namjoon nodded, head ducking as he pushed up his sleeves, exposing his muscled forearms. As he did, Seokjin noticed just how broad the man’s shoulders were.

Namjoon looked up at him, through his eyebrows, the hard line of his nose and jaw accented by the fire light. Seokjin could see the muscles in Namjoon’s jaw flex as the man swallowed. The moron seated in front of him somehow shifted into someone dangerous, right before Seokjin’s eyes. Everything was the same. Nothing changed. And yet- everything did.

“Peace, long-held, genuine peace, isn’t sustained without a firm hand, and I can think of no better hand than mine,” Namjoon’s voice was hard. Firm. Worth listening to.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin said.

“Yes, Ambassador Kim?”

“You should have led with that.”

Namjoon smiled, a soft huff of a laugh escaping his lips, and suddenly the little tree-hugging politician was back. Namjoon once again attempted to lean back in his chair, before abandoning the idea.

A moron.

But a moron who may have potential.

“Is that a yes?”

Seokjin scoffed. “Not at all. I am wholly uninterested in and definitively opposed to leaving Terra. I will consider, however, providing some degree of mentorship, if you would be interested in that.”

“Oh- wow, I-” Namjoon said, finally falling back into the chair, hand rubbing his face, “Thank you, wow. I just- I really didn’t think you’d say yes. Everyone said… Well. That doesn’t matter.”

“As a conundrum, I believe it’s in my nature to be mercurial.”

“You have a point,” Namjoon nodded, boyish amusem*nt on his face.

After securing a ‘yes’, it seemed that Namjoon had entirely let his guard down. A mistake, but one Seokjin couldn’t take advantage of in the moment.

“It is late,” Seokjin said, standing, “Allow me to walk you out.”

“Of course, Ambassador Kim. Thank you again. So much.”

Seokjin hummed.

Namjoon stood up, and Seokjin watched the green glint in his eyes flicker for the briefest of seconds.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“Are we closely related cousins?”

—

That night, Seokjin sat in front of the fireplace in his library. All that was of the fire were a few embers. He thought of his mother, his father, his former wife, his daughter, and that wretched f*cking Guide.

He wondered if Kim Namjoon was worth facing all of them again.

Would Seokjin represent this idea for Namjoon?

Seokjin pushed his sleeves up, the exposed flesh lit up the dark room. Seokjin felt like retching the sight. Bile rose up his throat.

Sun prince, he thought to himself, sneering at the thought.

Seokjin wanted to peel his own skin off and pin it to his wall like a trophy.

Seokjin wanted to slaughter every Guide on Terra just so he could see the look on his father’s face when it happened.

Seokjin wanted to stuff stars down the Crown Princess’s throat, so at least her corpse would achieve her goal of being brighter than Seokjin.

Seokjin wanted swallow the planet his daughter lived on, so it would be as though she never existed.

Seokjin wanted?

It seemed he wanted quite a lot.

This, in itself, was quite a revelation.

Perhaps, it wasn’t yet time for his eternal sleep in the shade.

—

Namjoon staggered into his Capital flat. The six hour flight from Seokjin’s estate to the Capital had been longer than he had been expecting.

Namjoon should have been better prepared. He had too much faith in himself.

Namjoon knew he wasn’t alone in the house- the smell of his Mother was distinctive. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He slapped a hand on the house AI system’s panel to turn it on.

His heart was racing. His blood was boiling. His skin itched.

The worst migraine Namjoon could image was banging daggers of pain behind his eyes. It blurred his vision. Namjoon’s eyes felt like they were crossing.

He knew he had to do the meeting with Seokjin sober. He knew the Ambassador would be able to smell the morphine burning in his veins if Namjoon had taken he dose before.

He needed Seokjin to listen to him, to know that Namjoon wasn’t like the rumors.

He wasn’t an addict.

But he felt like he was suffocating.

Gripping the wall for support, Namjoon slowly walked towards the refrigerated medicinal cupboard. His muscles strained with the effort.

I need it, i need it, i need it.

“Baby, no greeting for your poor mother?”

Namjoon grunted, continuing to move towards the cabinet.

“Are you looking for that morphine garbage? I threw it out.”

Namjoon’s migraine panged across his whole body. It felt like a lightning strike. He crumpled, doubling over with a pained moan.

“You’re lying,” Namjoon ground out, hands braced on his thighs, vision spotty.

“Mommy never lies to you, baby. You know that.”

“I- I need it.”

“Oh? Well, I have some at home, baby. Let’s go get it together.”

Namjoon gagged, tears blurring his already worthless vision. He pushed against his thighs, putting all of his effort into trying to get himself up-right. He fell to the floor instead, feeling something in his nose crack from the impact.

He couldn’t feel the pain, but he could smell the blood dripping from his nose.

“Mom- I- please,” Namjoon begged, voice breaking.

“I’ll help you, baby. Mommy will help you.” His mother walked towards him; her military-issue boots thumping against the floor. She wedged the steel toe of her boot under Namjoon’s shoulder, using the leverage to flip the 200 hundred pound over with her foot.

Namjoon couldn’t see his mother. He couldn’t see.

“I was off-planet, killing some f*cking insurgent insects, when your Father calls me saying my son has disinherited himself,” his mother’s voice was so sweet and high-pitched. It was such a contrast to the heavy heel digging into Namjoon’s shoulder. “Your worried Mommy had to rush back, so you could tell her that Daddy was lying.”

“It’s-” Namjoon couldn’t breathe. “Tr- tr…’”

“Namjoon.” His mother kicked him; the steel toe embedding in his skin. “You are my best shot. Not my only shot. Understand? You are disposable.”

Namjoon was suffocating. He had to be. His lungs were empty; they burned.

“The lawyer is here. All you have to say is ‘Yes’, Namjoon, and I’ll get you enough morphine to fill a pool.”

Namjoon twitched his head in a pathetic attempt to shake his head no.

“Namjoon!” his mother shouted, the word echoing in Namjoon’s skull, “I’ll f*cking kill you, understand?”

“Lieutenant, perhaps he’s not in the state-”

“He’s in enough of a state to say no,” his mother snapped, kicking Namjoon again. Her boot must have hit a nerve, because Namjoon’s body jerked.

Namjoon was no longer aware of what was happening.

All he knew was- he was going to die. He was going to die young and unaccomplished. He was going to die the same way he was born, begging his Mother for mercy.

Fsskk.

The house AI suddenly turned on the house lights. The black of the apartment chased away by white LEDs.

Incoming ping from Ambassador Seokjin Kim. Accept?

The AI voice asked, with almost a hint of amusem*nt in its voice.

“Decline,” his Mother barked.

Unknown speaker, authority level zero. Order not actionable.

Incoming ping from Ambassador Seokjin Kim. Accept?

“Ac-” Namjoon breathed.

Order actionable. Accepting ping.

“Namjoon- What’s your availability for tomorrow morning? I’ll fly you back out.”

“Hel. Lep. He-,” Namjoon wheezed, eyes rolling to the back of his head, as he finally lost consciousness. At least he wasn’t alone.

“Namjoon? Are you alright?”

Silence.

—

“Ambassador Kim,” Bedeliia Kim’s sweet voice greeted, “I’m sorry, my son is asleep. You’ll have to call again.”

“Corporal Kim, my apologies, I thought this was Namjoon’s residence.”

“It’s Lieutenant now. And you’re right. I am merely visiting my son.”

“How funny. He was just visiting me. It’s still early over there, no? Is everything alright?” Bedeliia Kim’s face was creased with anger.

“He was just a little under the weather. You know how young ones are.”

“Is he not well?”

“Oh, no, no. He’s fine.”

“You don’t have to worry about imposing, Bedeliia. He and I are cousins, albeit six-removed. Let me call the Crown physician. I’ve also dispatched emergency services, just in case it’s a serious issue.”

“Ambassador Kim,” Bedeliia Kim growled.

“No need to thank me, Auntie,” Seokjin’s voice was smooth, unaffected, as if he didn’t just save Namjoon’s life.

Ping concluded.

—

When one imagined Kim Namjoon- it was never quite accurate.

One might imagine that the inaccuracy stemmed stemmed from the inherent mercurial nature of politicians.

This assumption was false on many levels. As much as Senator Kim excelled at politicking, he was honest to the point of fault. He could speak in circles, all the while never telling a lie. This was part of what made the man so dangerous in those elite circles.

So, then- what was that inaccuracy? Where did people fail to imagine Kim Namjoon properly?

The towering figure of Kim Namjoon was scaffolded from behind by the marble pillar that was Kim Seokjin, only son of the sixth aunt of the current Crown Princess, twelfth in line for the throne, first grandchild of the energy Kim fortune.

Kim Namjoon was a product of Kim Seokjin in every sense of the word. Kim Seokjin’s charity, conniving, wealth, mentorship- one could go on for an age.

The little ones don’t realize. The young ones who weren’t there almost a century ago would have no idea, just how bright Kim Seokjin shined. The man glowed. He radiated his influence with the mesmerizing color of the sun. Every planet Kim Seokjin stepped foot on would whisper of his visit, every iteration of the myth becoming more and more grandiose, continuing for decades following his visit.

He was the center of a galaxy of his own making.

And when Namjoon wanted to craft his own galaxy, Kim Seokjin birthed that wish into existence.

--

Years Later

--

Seokjin Namjoon.

Namjoon loved the way their names sounded together. He hoped that his name would forever follow Seokjin’s; that whenever someone read the annals of history, the tales of Seokjin the Sun Prince would have a by-line of “loved by Kim Namjoon.”

He loved Seokjin Kim.

In this moment, he loved Seokjin Kim so much that it hurt.

In deep space, their ship nearing orbit, Namjoon wanted this moment to freeze. Their limbs entangled in each other, Namjoon’s head resting over the thrumming heart in Seokjin’s chest, Seokjin’s hand brushing through Namjoon’s hair.

Seokjin’s skin dimmed when he was dozing, when he felt safe. Whenever their bedroom darkened, Namjoon’s heart always tightened with the knowledge that he had done something right.

They had finally gotten the funding to sound-proof the ship properly. It felt like it was just him and Seokjin, as if they were the only living beings left in the galaxy. Namjoon could think of no better reality.

He craved peace. Peace- not for all, not for any but Seokjin Kim.

Namjoon would find a way to hold the very universe still, if it meant that Seokjin Kim could have an uninterrupted nap.

“Don’t think so hard,” Seokjin murmured, “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

“I don’t want to get off the ship.”

“Hush.”

Namjoon knew Seokjin didn’t feel the same. Seokjin didn’t like being stuck, even if it was stuck with Namjoon. Even Seokjin’s books were rotated with a vicious whiplash.

Linguistics. Virology. Botany. Cuisine. Microeconomics. Anthropology.

Namjoon wondered if Seokjin knew which book he’d read after Namjoon Kim.

Seokjin’s fingers twirled loving circles in his hair, barely stimulating, a lulling sensation. Namjoon exhaled, eyes fluttering closed, resting a gentle hand on Seokjin’s dim chest.

The silence stretched into a thousand perfect moments, so perfect that Namjoon couldn’t help but shatter it-

“I’ll take care of it this time,” Namjoon said.

Seokjin didn’t speak.

“You won’t have to leave the ship.” Namjoon could hear the desperation in his own voice.

Seokjin laughed, a single soft, regal laugh. “I’ve got to leave the ship, silly goose. What will I do all alone?”

Namjoon swallowed, eyes stinging. “Read? Sleep? Eat all the imported truffle candies we got from Caazant?”

“Alone?” Seokjin questioned, again.

Namjoon didn’t answer, shutting his eyes.

—

The ship had docked.

Namjoon’s heart was pounding.

“You’ve practiced your speech. You will be alright,” Seokjin reassured.

Seokjin was dressing himself; his eyes were fixed on his reflection in the mirror. He wore thin linen clothes in a pale cream; the shirt had a glaringly deep v-neck, and the pants cut at his ankles. His overcoat was thin and sheer, and Seokjin left it unbelted, even rolling up the sleeves to expose his forearms. His hair was slicked back, and his lips stained with an orange tint.

“Stay here,” Namjoon said, once again. “Stay on the ship.”

Seokjin didn’t look away from his own reflection.

“Please,” Namjoon whispered.

“I’ll be with you, my morning star.”

A lie, but a flower-sweet one.

—

The Sovereign of the planet had thrown them a party. The native nobles were dancing; they didn’t wear shoes, so their clawed feet clicked in perfect unison with the music. It was a unique, satisfying sound; Namjoon understood the appeal, the temptation to join the man-made accompaniment to the orchestra.

It was a fairly simple-looking couple’s dance, though Namjoon still wasn’t able to make heads or tails of the thing. Seokjin, however, watched two rounds, before humming.

“Namjoon?” Seokjin asked, holding his hand out.

There are moments that Namjoon wanted to drown in. This moment. With Seokjin lit by the foreign neon green lights, black eyes fixed on Namjoon, princely smile on his lips, hand reaching for Namjoon. Seokjin’s platinum blonde hair shiny with oil; his broad shoulders, the way his sternum peaked through his clothes, the confidence in his posture, the way his head was tilted, the way he was holding his hand, palm out, vulnerable.

Everything went quiet. In the space between Namjoon’s heartbeats, he felt a sense of forever; if his heart stopped, perhaps this moment could truly stretch into eternity. Maybe Namjoon’s nerves could stall and whither with this exact image of Seokjin burned into them.

Seokjin’s lips twitched.

Namjoon swallowed, the tunnel vision fading.

“I’m a poor dancer,” Namjoon said.

“Indulge me, anyway.”

Namjoon looked down at Seokjin’s vulnerable palm, decorated with lines that Namjoon wished to read and behind which was Seokjin’s steady pulse, loud as a drum.

Namjoon covered Seokjin’s hand with his own, shielding the sight from the rest of the room. Seokjin swept him into the crowd, comfortably leading Namjoon through the motions.

—

Namjoon sat across from the Sovereign. He had spent the past two hours, painstakingly explaining the benefits of joining their budding alliance. His voice was becoming tired, and he could begin to hear a dryness in their translator’s voice, as well.

He had been thorough, understanding, comprehensive, diligent, diplomatic, considerate, logical.

And yet- The entire time, her eyes were fixed on Seokjin’s low neckline.

Seokjin said something in Yuewey’s language.

The Sovereign licked her teeth.

—

“Go back to the ship,” Seokjin said.

“Alone?” Namjoon said.

Seokjin didn’t answer.

—

Namjoon laid in bed.

He listened to Seokjin’s even footsteps approach the ship. 3 kilometers, 2 kilometers, 1 kilometer away.

Ambassador Seokjin Kim- Access level 1. Boarding Main Gate. The AI system called out, announcing Seokjin’s arrival.

Namjoon didn’t leave the bed, breathing in Seokjin’s lingering scent on the sheets.

Seokjin walked through the ship, walking past their room to an unassigned cabin. Slowly, Seokjin turned on tap for the room’s shower.

—

“They’ll join,” Seokjin said, walking into their room, “They’ll pay dues and contribute to oversight infrastructure. If we decide to organize a military effort, they’ve even committed to providing twenty percent of their standing space-capable forces. Quantitatively, it is a very meager offer, but it is reasonably the best she could do.”

Namjoon wanted to say something cruel.

But Seokjin didn’t mind cruelty; it was by-and-large the language in which Seokjin was most comfortable— it would only be Namjoon that would ache from the words, so Namjoon said nothing at all.

Seokjin was wearing only a standard issue robe. Namjoon wasn’t sure where Seokjin at put his used clothes. All he knew was they’d reliably reappear in their closet the next morning, smelling of nothing but linen and mint.

Seokjin walked towards their closet, choosing to wear Namjoon’s clothes instead of his own. They were similar sizes; it didn’t make much difference, except for the deliberate tweak of Namjoon’s heart strings.

After changing, Seokjin snapped the lights off, climbing into bed. Seokjin slipped under the sheets, while Namjoon lay over them.

Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to mind. There were many barriers between him and his beloved, another was hardly an ache.

Yet, despite the impassable barrier between them, Seokjin cuddled close, his face tucked into the crook of Namjoon’s neck.

Seokjin was glowing bright- he wasn’t relaxed.

The thought was a drop of salve on Namjoon’s cavernous, resentful wound.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin whispered, lips close to Namjoon’s ear.

Namjoon turned his head towards Seokjin; their noses brushed against each other. Seokjin’s skin glowing orange and Namjoon’s eyes glinting green in the dark. They made an odd pair.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon responded.

“Don’t be upset. It upsets me.”

Seokjin’s breath smelled strongly of peppermint and nothing else. Namjoon wondered just how many cans of mouth cleanser Seokjin had used.

Namjoon decided, in that moment, he hated the smell of peppermint.

“Are you in pain?”

Seokjin sighed. Cold mint air fanned across Namjoon’s face, and Namjoon closed his eyes.

“Pain is fleeting,” Seokjin murmured, “Your suffering is what I take issue with.”

“Synonyms.”

“Suffering is lonely.”

“I was alone. As were you.”

They were silent, hearts beating in unison, moments of quiet eternity stretching between the beats.

Eternity, rather than being set in stone, was fluid. Seokjin’s head tilted forward, pressing languid kisses along Namjoon’s forehead, his cheek, his jaw.

Seokjin’s affection was gentle.

Namjoon received it with care.

Dozens of kisses were pressed into Namjoon’s skin, each slow and purposeful, each a stern promise to the both of them.

And then, after the nth kiss, Seokjin stopped. Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open.

Seokjin’s lips were hovering over his own, and Seokjin’s gaze was staring into his own. It was a question. A sincere one.

“I wonder what you taste like, morning star,” Seokjin whispered, his lips just barely ghosting over Namjoon’s own.

No one had ever been this close.

Even Seokjin’s meager self-preservation had always kept him some distance away. Yet, here Seokjin was, promising a kiss if Namjoon wanted one.

“You have made me bitter,” Namjoon whispered.

“I have made you to my tastes then.”

“Yet, here I am. Uneaten.”

Seokjin blew against Namjoon’s closed lips, and they parted instinctively, giving way to Seokjin’s breath. Always giving into Seokjin. Always submitting to Seokjin.

Namjoon wanted to close the gap between their lips and kill him.

Namjoon wanted to save Seokjin from the poison pooling in his mouth.

“Consumption should be a consensual affair,” Seokjin said, “I have brought myself to the table, Namjoon. Should you like to do the same?”

Namjoon inched closer. Seokjin’s upper lip brushing his own sent a shiver down his spine. Namjoon exhaled. Seokjin inhaled. Seokjin exhaled. Namjoon inhaled-

And he could taste the faint smell of artificial peppermint in the air.

He snapped out of it, jerking himself away, far, far away.

Seokjin leaned back, slightly, almost looking disappointed, as if he had wanted to kiss Namjoon, as if he had wanted to die, as if finally kissing Namjoon would have been worth the abrupt and absolute end of his existence.

There was an undeniable, aching love in Seokjin’s disappointment.

“Stop,” Namjoon said, finding a firm resolution deep within him.

Seokjin stared at him a moment, before tugging Namjoon back into his embrace. The blanket was still between them.

Seokjin’s arms wrapped tight around Namjoon’s waist, as his skin dimmed, darkening the room to a soft navy color.

Namjoon and Seokjin had once again found a balance; though precarious, the impasse was comfortable enough to carry them through the night.

Stalemates, forevers, and sufferings.

Seokjin and Namjoon’s love story was a braided thread of the three.

Chapter 3: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Chapter 1:

The Vierna Academy.

Where the best and brightest wanted to study.

The bleeding edge of intergalactic travel and military innovation.

Students didn’t walk so much as march, with perfect soldier-like posture in their black sharp-lined uniforms. Shiny loafers, slim-fitted slacks, tight jackets with gold buttons running up the front, ending in a high neck. Small pistols strapped to their thighs and scars of their universal translator’s implantation surgery behind their ears.

Cadets training to become part of the Crown’s armed forces, a majority of which were training for off-planet deployment.

Dangerous, powerful cadets.

They looked like children.

In comparison to the nobles walking past, the cadets looked like children.

Bangtan strode down Vierna’s airy halls, with the kind of sharp confidence you could only have when you knew people would rather dive out of the way than block your path.

And dive they did.

Six pairs of heels, belonging to Bangtan’s sharp-toed, glossy black shoes clicked against floor in perfect unison, sounding reminiscent of a ticking time-bomb.

The sound got louder and louder, Cadets co*cking their heads curiously. It was the only warning Cadets received before Bangtan rounded the corner.

They were easily and immediately recognized.

Bangtan was always clothed in their signature color- a silvery white color, distinct for their status and position. Only Bangtan was allowed to wear it.

Tight white slacks were layered over their sleek black loafers. Elaborate coats with expensive silk embroidery and floor-length coat-tails were cinched at the waist by tight belts, which holstered heavy artillery grade blasters. The sort reserved for the Crown’s personal guard.

White capes wrapped around their broad shoulders, with a high neck, a series of ruffles mimicking an ascot, two rows of platinum buttons, and over a dozen military medals.

They were a ripple of expensive white fabric, glossy black leather, and shiny metal.

Their up-turned noses and pin-straight postures made their platinum blonde hair catch the light perfectly. Sharp cheekbones, perfect skin, straight noses all caught the light. The thirteen diamonds piercing their left ears sparkled, almost blinding with their perfection and size.

Bangtan was blinding, like a gun muzzle after you pulled the trigger.

They swept down the crowded halls like a tank through a battlefield, cutting a path through the students packing the hallways. No one touched them. Cadets leaped several feet backward, preferring to crash into their peers rather than dare to accidentally brush against the nobles.

Cadets squeaked, faces going pale, scampering to the sides of the hallway, as the six nobles silently, surely, walked to where they needed to go with disinterested expressions on their faces. They were used to the reactions. The terrified students didn’t faze them at all.

Bangtan looked untouchable.

They were untouchable.

Jungkook watched them sweep by.

He was invisible, matching in the sea of Cadets. The Vierna uniform was enough to hide him, even if he didn’t cower in fear the way the rest of his peers did.

Jungkook stood against a wall, watching Bangtan from afar, taking in their walk, their posture, their facial structure.

Everything.

Anything.

He stared after them, long after they had turned another corner and disappeared from sight.

He couldn’t help it.

This was just the second time Jungkook had seen his soulmates in person.

One could hardly fault him for staring.

—

“Jungkook’s idols are here,” Baekhyun teased, nudging his elbow into Jungkook’s side.

Jungkook gave his friend a tempered smile.

Baekhyun found his idolization of Bangtan ridiculous. Jungkook couldn’t imagine how much Baekhyun would judge him if he knew the sheer extent of Jungkook’s infatuation.

Jungkook wished he could be happy about Bangtan being here, wished he could be grateful to see them again.

But he wasn’t.

“They’re here ahead of schedule, too,” Baekhyun noted, taking a bite of his apple, “Maybe they could feel your simping all the way in the Capital.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, “You do realize that they can hear this conversation?”

“The academy has reinforced walls- oh f*ck,” Baekhyun mumbled, remembering.

Bangtan weren’t like normal Sentinels.

Reinforced walls were more than enough to stop most sentinels from being able to hear conversations across a campus.

Bangtan, however, were exponentially more sensitive than the typical Sentinel.

A dozen reinforced walls were no match for their incredibly powerful senses.

They could hear a pin drop from a hundred miles away.

It was easy for Bangtan to hear a conversation across a building, even with a dozen sound-proof walls between them and the persons speaking. They could hear every conversation in the building. Every heartbeat, every breath, every footstep. They could hear it all.

Everyone knew they were the strongest Sentinels on the planet.

But it was easy to forget just how god-like their capabilities were.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Jungkook sighed, leaning back in his chair, “The entire academy is gossiping. We’re just two voices amongst thousands.”

“… fair enough,” Baekhyun blinked, shrugging his shoulders.

Jungkook exhaled, shoulders slumping, trying to relax, despite the twisting coil of dread in his stomach.

Bangtan only ever came to the Academy for one thing: to get more guides.

“But still- don’t talk so loudly,” Jungkook muttered.

“So whispering is a better defense against Bangtan than a dozen sound-proof walls?” Baekhyun mocked, “Is that what you’re saying?”

Jungkook leaned down, pulling out his Astrophysics 230 notes out of his bag. “No. I’m saying that it’s not a good idea to let other Cadets hear you joke about Bangtan’s early arrival,” Jungkook muttered, “If you whisper- Most people can’t hear you.”

His tone was dark, but not with sympathy, as much as jealously.

Jungkook was jealous of his dead classmates.

It might make him a terrible person, but he was jealous.

Every year, Bangtan chose six Guides, one for each Sentinel. Each year, six Guides got the undeserved honor of protecting the best Sentinels in the country. And each year, all six failed, dying in the line of duty.

Like the pathetic little weaklings they were, a voice snarked inside his head, I can guide better than anyone, no matter what a f*cking professor’s rubric says.

Jungkook sighed, rolling his shoulders.

“Ah. Right,” Baekhyun took another bite of his apple. He didn’t lower his voice. “Did you know any of them?”

“One of them tutored me in Guiding when I was a first-year,” Jungkook offered.

That didn’t exactly mean that Jungkook was a fan of him, though.

The man had been co*cky, which was perhaps deserved, considering his great Guiding skill. But he had never missed a chance to mock Jungkook’s own unorthodox method of Guiding.

Weak, Jungkook remembered, he used to call me weak.

Well, only one of us is f*cking dead.

Jungkook exhaled, trying to calm himself down.

Baekhyun sent him a look, misinterpreting Jungkook’s anger for worry.

“Did you know him well? I just remember that he was top of the Guiding ranks.”

“Not too well. Not enough to miss him,” Jungkook muttered, voice dark.

“Just as well, I guess. You don’t need more stress right now.”

“I’m not stressed,” Jungkook’s grip tightened on his pen, “They only pick from the graduating class, remember?”

“They also usually swing by in May. They’re already off-schedule. They might go off-script, too,” Baekhyun murmured, voice grim.

Jungkook didn’t answer, trying to keep a cap on the hope budding in his chest.

They might look at juniors, too. Off-schedule. Off-script. Maybe I have a chance.

His chest felt warm, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile.

Jungkook nipped that feeling in the bud.

He tried to distract himself, scribbling ink notes about electromagnetism equations, and when to calculate electric potential.

“Sorry for ranting. I’m just worried. You’re exceptional. They’ll want you eventually- if not this year, then next year, and I just- I can’t,” Baekhyun started to stumble.

Jungkook sighed, looking up from his astrophysics equations to smile at his friend.

Baekhyun was scared of him dying.

It was sweet.

Even if Jungkook did want to die.

“The only thing that matters is my Guide ranking, and I’m pretty sure I’m so low that I’ve been marked as auxiliary.”

The academy ranked all of their Guides and Sentinels on two separate lists. During graduation, Guides were matched with the Sentinel of the same rank.

And since Sentinels had the right to reject their match, the Academy always accepted more Guides than Sentinels- to offer Sentinels options.

Jungkook was pretty sure he wasn’t even matched to a Sentinel at this point; he was probably so low on the ranking that he was just a disposable extra.

“You’re literally the highest ranked Guide in the general list.”

“No offense, but you know that’s just a way for the Academy to give superficial validation to Nulls,” Jungkook sighed, “It means jack-sh*t in relation to me. Besides- I’m, like, thirty-two on that list.”

“Well considering the thirty-one students above you are Sentinels that are at least a decade older than you, I think it’s still incredibly impressive. And I’m sure there’s a Sentinel out there who thinks so, too, even if it’s not Bangtan.”

Jungkook didn’t answer, sighing.

At this point, Jungkook wasn’t even sure he wanted another Sentinel. If he didn’t end up with Bangtan, he’d likely prefer to be single and alone than suffer next to some random idiot.

Then, again, the life of a single Guide was bleak at best.

The Cadet glanced up, looking at Baekhyun.

His mouth had curled up into a sad, little pout. Baekhyun was always a little too nice, too compassionate towards the Vierna runt. It did him absolutely no favors to be Jungkook’s friend, but he was here regardless.

And perhaps, while, Jungkook likely didn’t feel as warmly towards Baekhyun as he should, he definitely didn’t enjoy seeing the man upset.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said, forcing himself to smile, “That means a lot. You’re the best.”

Baekhyun’s pout dissolved ever so slightly.

“You know how you can be even better, though?”

“How?” Curiosity dimly lit his friend’s face.

Jungkook chuckled, gesturing to his notes, “Help me with this sh*t? Pretty please?”

“As if you had to ask,” Baekhyun grumbled, scooting his chair closer and looking over the equations on the page, “I might not know much, but Electromagnetism Astrophysics is my jam.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teased wryly, eyes rolling, as he let his friend explain concepts that he already understood.

—

Jungkook and Baekhyun walked down the Eastern lecture wing of the academy.

The halls were quiet. Students speaking in hushed tones and moving around silently, as if to lessen the brunt of stimulation Bangtan were experiencing.

Jungkook found it ridiculous.

Bangtan regularly found themselves on battle fields, facing thunderous bomb blasts and bright enemy fire.

If they could handle that towering level of sensory stimulation, walking around a university, even a military academy, wouldn’t cause them any problems at all.

Unless they experienced some sort of novel stimulation, which was unlikely considering Bangtan had graduated from the Academy, the same way everyone else in the armed forces had.

Or, they were just scared of Bangtan eavesdropping on their conversations.

Which, again, was ridiculous. As if the personal servants of the Crown had the time or the desire to listen to schoolchildren gossip.

Jungkook and Baekhyun walked towards their Astrophysics test.

Jungkook sighed, “I swear to god if I miss a question on this exam. I might actually flip a table.”

“I thought you weren’t good at Electromagnetism?” Baekhyun asked, confused.

Jungkook blinked. “Right. I was joking. Definitely-”

Their Professor, a Sentinel, was standing in the doorway, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

She was no longer active-duty, so there was no Guide clinging to her side.

She was covered with several medals and shiny cords, unlike her undecorated students. But her uniform matched theirs, heavy slacks, thick coat, gold buttons, high-neck, shiny loafers. Except where the Cadets’ uniform was black, hers was a jewel-toned cerulean.

The lowest ranks in the Crown’s armed forces wore black. The higher the rank, the lighter and brighter the color of the uniform. Lieutenants wore pastels. Generals wore cream. Bangtan wore a silvery white. And members of the Crown were decorated with a white as stark as the sun.

“Did you not hear the alert?”

Jungkook and Baekhyun went silent.

They had turned off their earpieces to study. Their mistake.

“No, Professor. Sorry, Professor,” the both said in chorus, raising their hands to flick the earpieces back on.

The Professor sighed, hand twitching toward the whip holstered in her belt- Professors’ preferred method of punishment

“You both know better than that,” the Professor chided, yellow eyes narrowing at them ever so slightly, “Don’t do it again.”

“Yes. Professor. Sorry, Professor,” they ducked their heads, grateful to be spared a whipping.

The Professor sighed, forked tongue flicking against her bottom lip as she crossed her arms, “Down to the first auditorium. Bangtan is picking new Guides.”

Hope.

Soft, warm hope fluttered in Jungkook’s stomach.

“But we aren’t seniors?”

“I’m aware of that, Jeon. Bangtan has decided to broaden their search pool. They’re trying for better compatibility, in the hopes that maybe their guides might last longer than half a year this time.”

The Professor said, stepping forward and closing the classroom door behind her. Her tone darkened to something almost resentful.

“As if any Guide would be capable of managing such a great responsibility.”

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat.

Bangtan were looking at juniors. Jungkook was a junior.

This was his chance. He’d get to talk to Bangtan. He’d get to touch them, to guide them, to show them that he was everything they’d ever need from a guide.

Giddiness fluttered in Jungkook’s stomach like a mass of excited, celebrating butterflies.

I’m going to meet my soulmates, Jungkook thought, heart warming with hope, hope that he didn’t try to suppress this time.

Pure, unbridled hope.

Baekhyun shuddered.

Baekhyun was a null, completely unaffected by Sentinel-Guide dynamics, so the concern was likely on Jungkook’s behalf.

Jungkook appreciated it.

Jungkook smiled at his friend, patting his back, “It’ll be okay. It’s an honor to serve Bangtan. I’ll be okay.”

The professor nodded in agreement with Jungkook’s words.

“Head to the auditorium. You’re already late.”

“Yes. Professor.” The Cadets saluted, hitting a fist against the center of their chest before turning sharply on their heels, following the order.

Jungkook forced himself to not skip down the hall the way he wanted to.

“And, Jeon?”

Jungkook stopped, turning around on his heel to face the Professor. “Yes, Professor?”

“Don’t be too full of yourself. I can hear your heart racing from here,” the Professor, a low-level Sentinel, said, “They’ll only really consider high-ranked Guides. Your interview will likely just be a courtesy.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together, pressing them together to stop himself from sneering.

Being high-ranked means nothing.

I don’t need a rubric or a tight-laced Professor to tell me that I’m a good guide.

I’ll prove it today.

I’ll prove it to everyone today.

But still, Jungkook nodded, polite and deferential, as he spoke, “Noted, Professor.”

Chapter 4: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Three Years Ago

Three years ago, Jungkook was a young, twenty year old Cadet, freshly enrolled in the Academy.

He used to think a great deal of himself.

He still did.

Jungkook was exceptional.

But being exceptional, doesn’t give you the attention of a God. It doesn’t guarantee you Bangtan’s attention.

Jungkook was the son of two average working-class citizens. They were both Nulls, living in the downtown of a large city, unable to move to the suburbs that taunted them.

It had been an inauspicious setting for a child to be born.

By sheer luck, their child was a Guide. It had been entirely unexpected, and they had been wholly unprepared.

Guides didn’t follow family lineages.

Sentinels, who could predictably sire children with the same abilities, came from massive, exorbitantly wealthy noble families that have accumulated generations of military prestige and genetic privilege. Sentinels not only could accumulate desired traits in their house members over generations, but also had access to genetic engineering and intervention that the masses couldn’t even imagine. The average lifespan of a Sentinel seemed to be multiple times greater than any Null or Guide.

Sentinels were already great, and society only gifted them more opportunities for greatness.

Guides, on the other hand, were not nearly as lucky.

Regardless of the parents, the chances of giving birth to a Guide are impossibly miniscule. Which meant, not only were Guides a limited resource, but they lacked the generational and communal support that Sentinels received.

Their families were unable to teach them the skills they needed, unable to provide the lifestyle that people of such a rare and valued classification deserved.

As such, any Guides not born to a noble family were quickly put in Crown-funded private schools. From elementary school to their graduate degrees, they were pampered on the Crown’s coin. Fed, clothed, housed, educated to the highest standard for free.

During that time, Sentinel families would come visit the young Guides, as if they were taking their Sentinel children to a zoo. Or a pet store. They would come see which Guides suited their children’s tastes, trying to sow the seeds of compatibility early.

Though it was impossible to ensure a perfect match or even a very very good match, there was most definitely a correlation between Guides and Sentinels being childhood friends and having high compatibility later on in life. Several papers had been published about the phenomena.

Sentinels who bonded to Guides they had met during childhood experienced fewer migraines, less frequent zones, and reported higher levels of satisfaction with their sex life. Plus, as an added bonus, those pairs had much lower levels of Guide mortality rates in comparison to typical pairs.

Wealthy Sentinel families took full advantage of this, happy to pay the Crown’s exorbitant visiting fees in order to groom a young Guide into the perfect fit for their Sentinel children.

Once Guides turned 18, they were funneled into the appropriate Academy, divided by tiers of excellence and areas of strength. There were a hundred of them, varying in size and prestige. Luma, one of the larger academies, was where low quality Guides went, training for domestic assignments. Belttram was where Guides excelling in athletics and lacking in much else outside of it went; those students were funneled into front-line regiments. The most exclusive, smallest Academy was called Vierna, meant for students destined for early leadership positions within COAL or the Crown’s personal guard.

Guides were required to attend these academies fresh out of high school, so they all entered at the young age of 18. Sentinels, however, could chose when they wished to go through the Academy. Though it was typical for Sentinels to attend when they were young, their definition of young was relative. The average Sentinel entering the academy was 29.

Because while it was expected for every Sentinel to serve, it was only for a span of 20 years, which was nothing but a small stint in a Sentinel’s lifespan. The real draw was that attending the Academy and doing military service was the only way to officially get a Guide.

Before doing so, they’d have to use communal Guides at local hospitals or they could lean on a parent’s Guide, both were undesirable options.

However, when it came to Guides, they owed the Crown millions of credits for the luxiorious childhood and schooling they had received. The only possible way for Guides to pay back the billions of credits they owed the Crown was military service. Specifically, bonded military service.

They were required to attend one of the Crown’s military academies, bond to a fellow Sentinel classmate, and perform at least 30 years of service to the Crown.

Not bonding to a Sentinel was not an option. That was, unless, the Guide was so undesirable that no Sentinel would want them. But that was so humiliating that no Guide would ever allow themselves to live with that fate.

Jungkook had been born to two middle-class nulls. He’d been taken from them at the age of eight. He’d gone through Crown-sponsored schooling through till college.

Jungkook had excelled.

In his younger years, there hadn’t been a week where he wasn’t visited by a wealthy Sentinel family. He had been showered with gifts: clothes, trinkets, outings. Jungkook had received it all. It had seemed that every Sentinel was trying to time entering the academy the same year as Jungkook.

Jungkook would be a beautiful prize for any Sentinel.

The Crown had, as such, gifted him the honor of attending the Vierna military academy.

While other Academy branches accepted thousands of Guides every year, Vierna only took a couple hundred Guides. Handpicked. The best potential bondmates for the Sentinels who’d also been handpicked to attend the same academy.

Students joke that Vierna is where Hell freezes over. Arctic temperatures, binding blizzards, the most brutal curriculum on the planet, and where only half the students left with graduation caps.

Vierna churned out Lieutenants, Admirals, and Captains by the hundreds.

Jungkook was special, and Vierna believed it.

His entire first year, Jungkook had excelled.

It was clear from just a couple months that Jungkook would easily become the Guide to a Captain of a battleship after he graduated, if not of a Fleet.

His fellow Guides looked at him in jealousy.

His Professors looked at him in pride.

Then, Jungkook had taken his first Guiding class.

And everything fell apart.

—

It turns out: Jungkook was an unorthodox Guide.

He wasn’t a horrible one, no matter how much his professors would argue otherwise.

Horrible would imply that he couldn’t Guide, but Jungkook has never left a Sentinel in a zone. That was more than any Guide Jungkook had ever met could say.

He’s never failed. He just… He just doesn’t use the preferred methods. He couldn’t use the preferred methods. He was incapable of it.

It wasn’t some sort of pride, that stopped Jungkook from doing it the so-called “proper” way. It was the physical incapability of doing otherwise, that had Jungkook doubling down on his unorthodoxy.

Jungkook was an incredibly hard worker.

He was the type to practice the violin until his fingers bled, and then continue on until he felt content.

If Jungkook could force himself into using the “proper” way, he would.

But he couldn’t.

No amount of practice would change the fundamental way that his consciousness manifested; short of killing himself, Jungkook was just stuck this way.

—

What is a zone?

What is a Guide?

These were questions Jungkook considered often.

—

See- if a Sentinel goes into a zone- let’s take Soobin, one of Jungkook’s classmates that wasn’t completely unbearable. If Soobin goes into a zone, a couple things are expected to happen:

Soobin might have been staring at a too-bright light for a little too long, or maybe he breathed in an acrid scent he hadn’t been expecting.

No matter the specifics, something in Soobin’s environment overwhelmed Soobin’s sensitive senses. Something over-stimulated him.

So, Soobin has zoned.

He’s running away in his own mind, bounding away on some useless, irrelevant tangent, stuck in a loop and unable to stop.

Every Sentinel’s mindscape looks different.

Soobin’s looks like a zoo with sensory input arranged in cages of varying sizes.

Normally, Soobin is able to travel throughout his mind with ease, walking on the zoo’s pedestrian path, looking into various displays. He’s able to wander through the zoo. He’s able to look for relevant information and ignore irrelevant memories.

He’s in control, and he walks through the zoo with agency.

When Soobin zones, however, it’s as if he’s fallen into one of the cages. The neat, boxed-in cage becomes infinitely large, and Soobin just runs. Boundlessly loosing himself in one tiny piece of stimulation.

This is why zones are dangerous.

Because without any outside help, Soobin would fall into a coma, and likely never wake up. Very few Sentinels could get themselves out of a zone without aid.

Which is why Guides were so revered. Sentinels couldn’t survive without a Guide at their side.

A “proper” Guide would dive into Soobin’s mind, landing in the zoo with a strong, heavy presence, leaving footprints in the pedestrian path as he searched for Soobin. Once the Guide found him, they’d jump into the cage, and run behind Soobin. It was an exhausting chase that only ended when the Guide tackled Soobin to the ground.

And then, the Guide had to physically drag Soobin all the way back to the pedestrian path. Soobin would be kicking and flailing, and the Guide would have to hold him tight, through sheer strength. This method of guiding required the Guide to be bigger, stronger, and faster than the zoned Sentinel.

It was exhausting for the Guide. It was painful for the Sentinel.

It was an abrasive, headache-inducing, dizzying process.

It was “proper.”

Apparently.

Jungkook did things rather differently.

Jungkook wasn’t a heavy weight in Sentinel’s minds. His presence wasn’t abrasive, or even noticeable. He was a light, barely corporal thing that made other Guides look like bulls in a china shop.

Typically, he couldn’t even touch things, his drifted right through them. He felt more like a part of the Sentinel’s mind, than an intruder.

This worked to his advantage- Sentinel’s tended to trust him when he was in their minds.

And Jungkook was special, though less solid, he had gift that most Guides didn’t- he had a voice.

He could speak when he was guiding a Sentinel out of a zone.

His voice became part of the Sentinel’s stream of thoughts. Inseparable. Jungkook became as distracting as the zone itself.

Jungkook would chase down Soobin, yes, but that’s were the similarities ended.

Jungkook would circle around the poor, confused Sentinel, with a warm crinkle to his eyes and comforting platitudes on his lips.

You’re safe. I’m here. There’s no need for that anymore. Focus on me.

“You’re safe. I’m here. There’s no need for that anymore. Focus on me. B-but,” Soobin would stutter, blind eyes blinking, “This is important, tiny fragments shooting from the blast, traveling 600 lightyears at peak velocity, before friction becomes a significant deterrent to the horizontal velocity-”

Soobin. Look at me.

“Soobin, look at me,” Soobin repeated. Jungkook’s words becoming his own thoughts. Soobin blinked.

Then the Sentinel turned his head to stare at Jungkook, eyes unseeing yet alert.

What are you looking at, Soobin?

“What are you looking at Soobin… I’m looking at a supernova. The light. It’s special,” the Sentinel mumbled, eyes beginning to flutter at the reminder of the overstimulation.

No. You were looking at the supernova. Now you’re looking at me. What am I?

“What am I?” Soobin blinked, “Jungkook. Cadet Jeon Jungkook. Classmate. Guide.”

Jungkook smiled, happy at the progress.

That’s right. Do I belong in this cage, Soobin? Is this where classmates belong?

“Is this where classmates belong- no. Not where they belong. Classmates belong in east wing, by family and friends. You should go there.”

I would. But I don’t know the way. Can you show me?

“Can you show me? Yes, but the path is easy. You can reach there alone. I have to stay-”

You can’t leave a Guide on their own. It’s not safe.

“Not safe. I’ll take you,” Soobin changed his own mind, as soon as Jungkook spoke the words, “Follow me.”

Then Soobin began to walk out of the cage himself, convinced to leave the zone with no physical exertion on Jungkook’s part, and no collateral damage in Soobin’s mind.

Soobin climbed out of the cage on his own.

The Sentinel watched Jungkook, making sure Jungkook got out, too.

Then, before he could turn away to lead Jungkook to the classmate section of the zoo, Jungkook pointed back at the supernova cage.

It’s just a supernova. Not worth zoning over.

“It’s just a supernova. Not worth zoning over,” Soobin repeated, voice clearer, more alert, as he stared back at the thing that had made him zone in the first place.

And then Jungkook slipped out of their minds.

His job was finished.

And Jungkook would flutter his eyes open, coming out of the Sentinel’s mind just in time to watch them burst into tears.

Jungkook has seen a variety of reactions but they tended to either be fear or anger spouted from fear.

“What the f*ck did you do to me?”

“I felt like a puppet. Like I was nothing in my own mind.”

“Your voice sounded like my thoughts.”

“I c-can’t be paired up with you, again, p-please that was… that was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I couldn’t tell where I stopped and you started.”

Because apparently, Jungkook sounding like their own mental voice was a terrifying thing.

Jungkook didn’t understand how they all could be so mentally weak, but he digressed.

Jungkook would point out that the Sentinels had no headache, no memory loss, no dizziness or drowsiness, but none of that ever mattered.

It also didn’t matter that Jungkook’s technique didn’t cause physical stress. Jungkook could guide six Sentinels in a row without issue. Even guiding the strongest of Sentinels wouldn’t kill him. There was nothing lethal about a conversation.

Why would any of that matter?

It paled in weight to the supposed “big, strong Sentinel” crying on the floor, pathetically sniffling about being unsure of himself.

Jungkook was only a tool, a pretty little pain-killer meant to make a Sentinel’s life easier.

He was nothing but how Sentinels perceived him.

Sentinels were the beginning and the end.

Jungkook had been groomed since the age of eight to become the best supporting character possible in the novel of a Sentinel’s life.

He was nothing but a side-character.

And side-characters that hurt the protagonist were useless at best and villains at worst.

—

Between being useless or being a villain.

What a dilemma.

—

Exam after exam, transfer after transfer, re-test after re-test. Jungkook just kept failing.

Jungkook wasn’t a good guide.

He wasn’t even an average one.

He was terrible.

He was harmful.

He gave Sentinels nightmares. He made them cry and scream. He made them feel unsafe in their own minds.

His respect, his pride, his reputation all drained away.

The bright future he’d imagined, standing behind a prestigious Sentinel drained away, leaving nothing but a life of being unwanted spreading open in front of him.

And it was then, during the most vulnerable period of his life, Jungkook found his mates.

—

He’d been walking to an Intro lecture, head ducked ever-so-slightly from the ever-present embarrassment he felt.

The flirtatious looks Sentinels used to give him had far disappeared, replaced by haughty scoffs Guides gave him as he walked past him.

It was deserved.

He was a terrible guide,

He had felt so much pride for a terrible guide,

A guide who hurts his Sentinel is no Guide at all.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Students moved out of his way, as Jungkook kept his gaze firmly on their shiny black loafers. He moved quickly and silently from class to class now. It was too hard to find the will to go to class at all.

Not when his broken reputation felt so very deserved.

The last Sentinel’s reaction to his guiding was still burned into his mind-

-please god, stay away from me, don’t touch me, i can’t breathe, i can’t breathe, where are my lungs-

Jungkook exhaled, shaky and weak, as he moved down the hallway, only to hesitate.

His classmates’ loafers weren’t moving. Everyone was standing still. Jungkook looked up, seeing everyone looking over the second floor railing down to the first floor of the atrium.

There were six nobles, men, soldiers, broad-shouldered, platinum-haired, stones glittering in their ears. They were too far away for Jungkook to count how many or distinguish their color.

Jungkook frowned.

Nobles visited all the time. The elite could afford to bribe their way into the Academy. It was nothing notable.

So why?

“They’re back,” a student whispered with an infatuated sigh.

“As if they’ll pick us,” a second one muttered under their breath, “They only pick the nobles. Classism at its finest.”

“Hush. Everyone knows they go by Guide rankings.”

Crown’s personal servants?

Five of the nobles kept walking, but one stopped, freezing in the middle of the atrium. They raised their head, looking up to look at the second student.

Sentinels, Jungkook realized. Though it had been fairly obvious just from their clothing, alone. Most nobles were Sentinels. Likely, Jungkook would be able to recognize them from their military uniform, but they were in casual attire.

And these men had to have been, if they heard the Cadet’s conversation from so far away. Strong sentinels, which was probably the cause of the oohing and ahhing.

Jungkook huffed.

f*ck them all, he thought, life isn’t just about Sentinels.

Jungkook was about to leave, about to turn on his heel, and stew in self-hatred when he blinked.

No.

Jungkook squinted.

Wait. Their auras.

Six matching dark holes, black as pitch, like an endless abyss, outlined their silhouettes.

Black grew out, in natural lines, branching out to a warm green in a tree-like pattern.

Black spun out into a dim grey, curling around itself like a nest of serpents.

Black blurred out to a soft pink that swayed, back and forth, like a flower field.

Black burned into a bright canary yellow, straight lined, and geometric, like metal armor.

Black terraced into jewel tones, sheerly layering on top of itself like an embroidered curtain.

Black softened to a fuzzy pink, shimmering like the most expensive of silks, plush almost.

The six of them had undoubtedly beautiful aura edges, the sort that enamored artists for a lifetime.

But that wasn’t what Jungkook was concerned about.

No.

It was the pitch-black centers, centers of all their auras.

Two Sentinels that had hgSentinel who had high compatibility Sentinel mates’ auras matched in some way, and with how very starkly all six matched, it was clear they were mates.

But, more importantly was that black hole.

That dark, dark black hole around each of them, such a dark, lightless black that it made Jungkook’s own aura seem bright in comparison.

Jungkook’s black aura, that blurred from navy tints to maroon tints, with bright speckles of warm white, was a little galaxy that would fit so snugly within that gaping space.

Ironically akin to the unescapable vacuum of a black hole, the Sentinels unknowingly pulled on Jungkook’s aura.

Jungkook’s willpower was no match for the magnetic pull of such a perfect match. He was unable to help himself, unable to stop himself, as tendrils of his aura slipped away from him, tendrils speeding away towards the six clueless Sentinels.

The Guide tried his absolute best to gather his aura back, but it was out of his control. Six tendrils of Jungkook’s aura pierced six Sentinels’ auras, hiding themselves in each of those little black holes.

A tiny, undetectable amount of light, sparkled in the center of six matching abysses.

The Sentinels kept on walking, unbothered, unable to feel it.

But Jungkook, who had just lost six pieces of himself, six tiny pieces of his mind, burrowed within six people, was frozen.

His heart was pounding, beating a shaky, uneven rhythm as he watched his mates walk away, taking his sanity with them.

Chapter 5: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Three years ago

Mates always such a fantastical connotation to it.

But really, it wasn’t anything that magical, nothing nearly as fated as some people liked to assume.

Really, even the title of ‘mate’ was a little out-dated.

It was just about being a good match.

Sentinels and Guides created mental connections using their consciousness. Consciousness radiated a sort of energy. Sentinels and Guides radiated such a great deal of energy that it manifested into something similar to an aura.

Nulls didn’t have them. They couldn’t see or feel them either.

Sentinels had them, but they couldn’t sense them at all.

Guides had them, and they could manipulate them at will.

Guides saw the invisible auras floating around every Guide and Sentinel.

They could see the glowing neon green speckled halo around a passerby, and reach out with their own aura to poke it.

In this way, Guides could recognize their own matches.

They could see that a Sentinel had a yellow, geometrically aura with sharp edges that fit up rather well to their own geometrical aura, even if it was green instead of a matching yellow.

So mates weren’t exactly a fated match, so much as a good enough fit. Many Sentinel houses upped the odds of this happening by setting their Sentinel children up with many Guide friends and watching to see if their auras would grow to become complimentary as they got closer to adulthood.

Sentinel-Guide pairs needed to compliment each other, needed to overlap and blend, like two pieces of thin tissue layering on top of each other.

The better the match, the better the blend, the more completely a Guide would be able to meld their aura with a Sentinel’s.

Guides covered a Sentinel’s aura with their own, combining the textures as much as possible.

Average matches were able to create a blurred edge where auras were mixed enough that Guides could enter a Sentinel’s consciousness with some degree of ease, able to pull Sentinels out of zones.

Exceptional matches blended so well that you weren’t sure where the Sentinel ended and the Guide started. The Guide was ever-present in the Sentinel’s mind, able to stop zones before they started.

It was intimate, vulnerable connection.

It made Sentinels damn-near unstoppable.

—

Afterward, Jungkook was dizzy and disoriented, as one might be if they lost six pieces of themself in one moment.

His aura writhed, warping itself, as if trying to reach out to grab the missing tendrils that Jungkook had lost forever.

It gave him a piercing headache. His stomach rolled, as he leaned against a brick wall in the hallway. He was panting, chest rising and falling rapidly, gasping for air that just wasn’t enough, wouldn’t fill the hole, wouldn’t make up for what was missing.

Gone.

Jungkook felt it as vivid as an amputation, as if a piece of himself had been blasted away from a bomb, neurons firing, imagining an injury that resulted in massive cell death, but that wasn’t it.

Every single cell in his body was accounted for, but Jungkook was still not whole.

He wasn’t whole.

He’d never be whole again.

They stole his mind.

Jungkook remembered everything. He thought he remembered everything, but how could he know what he didn’t know.

How would he know if they stole, what they stole, how badly he was damaged?

He was panicking.

He felt like he was dying.

He could die in the middle of a stupid academy hallway.

His lungs burned, even though he was panting from how desperately he was drawing breath. His legs trembled underneath him, finally collapsing to the floor-

That should have hurt, his hip should hurt, he landed on his hip-

He felt the pain in his shoulder.

Nothing made sense, Jungkook lifted his right hand to his shoulder but his left was the one that moved-

his brain-

was working-

not right-

This wasn’t right.

Jungkook’s vision was blurry as he looked up, left shoulder throbbing? Right hip? Seventh rib?

He saw people walk past him, visible in his left field of spotty vision before disappearing. Something in his right, movement maybe, maybe not-

Jungkook was dying.

He was sure of it.

And his classmates were walking around his dying body- going to class- as if nothing was wrong-

Jungkook couldn’t

I can’t.

I can’t see-

Black.

—

Jungkook woke up abruptly.

Life met him, sharp, sudden, and painfully vivid.

Jungkook inhaled, desperate, and solid, heavy air filled his lungs. Comforting. Warm.

He was alive.

He was okay.

“Are you feeling alright, Cadet Jeon?”

Jungkook sat up, militant, even though the motion knocked away the limited amount of energy he had. He looked up.

It was the Academy’s nurse.

She was looking at him, kind-eyed.

A Guide, Jungkook recognized immediately. Safe. He wondered where her Sentinel was, before vanishing the thought.

“Do you feel okay?” she asked softly.

Jungkook fisted his right hand, and his right fingers curled, tensing as they should. He dug the nail of his right thumb into his right index finger, feeling pain spark from the proper place.

Then he blinked, becoming aware of his own aura. The smoky blues and violets curled around him, as dim star-like spots flashed, swirling with an internal kind of gravity.

It would be impossible to tell if Jungkook wasn’t intimately aware of what his aura looked like, but it was clear to Jungkook: his aura was thinner. It was ever so slightly smaller than it had been before.

He blinked, aura becoming invisible.

He was fine…

“I think I’m okay…” Jungkook told her, clearing his rough throat, “Physically.”

She nodded sympathetically.

Medical intervention for Guides was restricted to the physical.

Aural harm had no treatment. No jurisdiction in medicine or medical research. Doctors could only recommend mediation, which was calming at best and symptom-inducing at worst.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I-” Jungkook started, before hesitating, unsure just what to share.

“You showed a lot of the symptoms for acute Guide distress.”

Everything that Guides experienced that couldn’t be explained was thrown into the box of Guide distress.

The Doctor gave him a warm look. “Did you pull away from a Sentinel too soon? The snap-back of your aura coming back to you can cause Guides a lot of distress.”

did you…

Jungkook hadn’t done anything but look a Sentinel’s way, but this was still his fault.

“I didn’t touch anyone.”

“It’s impossible to join auras without physical contact, I’m sure you just didn’t notice.”

They were an entire story away below me, Jungkook wanted to scream, but he stayed silent.

“My aura escaped from me. They stole it,” Jungkook muttered, but even as he said it.

He wasn’t mad.

Not at the beautiful platinum blonde men that had such dark centers, a continuous black abyss that matched Jungkook so well.

Kinship.

Recognition so strong, his aura couldn’t help but move towards it.

He wasn’t mad at them.

He was mad.

He was tense, furious- He was irritated. He wanted to get up and run away.

He was mad he wasn’t at their side.

Jungkook wanted the entirety of his aura burrowed so deeply in that abyss that no one would ever be able to tell where he started and were the blonde men ended.

He wanted them here.

They weren’t here, though.

They had left.

As if Jungkook didn’t matter.

As if they had known, just like everyone else, that Jungkook didn’t matter-

He sniffed, eyes filling with salt water.

“Oh, congratulations! If your aura was that attracted to a Sentinel’s, it means you both are great match. It’s very rare to experience such a thing, you know,” the nurse smiled at him, “I think you’ve just found your future bondmate.”

A great match. Jungkook wondered what that meant for him, that he didn’t even have to touch them, that the pull was so strong that he literally couldn’t control himself, even across such a great distance.

Jungkook nodded shakily.

Future bondmates.

“You’ll start to feel better soon,” the Doctor told him, standing up and opening a cabinet, “The distress is the worst when your aura separated from you, but now that its snapped back, you’ll go back to normal. I can give you anti-nausea medication, but prescription medication doesn’t really help with Guide distress.”

Jungkook bit his lip.

“My aura isn’t back. They still have it.”

The Doctor paused, giving him a look, something analytic in her eyes, before she shook her head, “You’re still distressed. I don’t need to be a Sentinel to know your vitals are skewed. Give yourself some time, you’ll realize that everything is back where it should be.”

“But-”

“Without proper bonding, a Sentinel can’t hold a Guide’s aura. It’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

It just is.

That was the extent of which a medical professional would be able to help him.

The frustration was overwhelming.

But.

But.

But.

More than anything else:

Jungkook felt a blooming sense of hope.

He had Sentinels. Six of them. Six of them that he was a great match for.

Six powerful perfect Sentinels that were already carrying a piece of Jungkook, had already partially accepted him.

It was finally hitting him.

Heart softening.

He found bondmates.

He had six.

Now, he just had to find them again.

—

Jungkook was used to having a close relationship to the Dean.

The Dean of every school he’s been enrolled in, but specifically the Dean of the Vierna.

Jungkook was exceptional. She had taken notice early on. She hadn’t hesitated to note that Jungkook was a prodigy of sorts.

She had offered him special treatment: personal numbers, visiting for tea, insight and advice. It had all been with a coddling, condescending tone, but Jungkook hadn’t really minded at the time.

And though Jungkook hadn’t seen her recently, he was sure that they had a good enough rapport that his questions could be answered.

She might even be able to put him in touch with those Sentinels. His Sentinels.

Jungkook’s shoulders melted at the thought.

He rapped his knuckled against the door, the way he always did.

“Who is it?” the Dean’s sharp voice called.

Jungkook wasn’t fazed by it. She warmed up immediately when she knew it was Jungkook

“Cadet Jeon, Dean Lancin,” Jungkook answered, voice alert and proud.

“I’m busy, Jeon. Make it quick,” she ordered, voice just as harsh as it had been.

Jungkook reeled.

Then he realized.

Not a good guide. Not a good guide. Not a good guide.

Useless.

All of Jungkook’s comfort evaporated, as the tentatively opened the door. His shoulders slumped, confidence draining away.

“Sorry, Dean Lancin,” Jungkook said, voice much softer, as he walked into her office.

“Make it quick,” the Dean ordered, not even looking up from her work.

Jungkook inhaled, soft, shy, bashful.

He had over-estimated the Dean’s affection for him, and now he was going to pay for it.

“I wanted to ask after the nobles that visited yesterday. I’d greatly appreciate being put in touch with them,” Jungkook murmured, gaze firmly on the floor.

“What business do you have with the Duke and his daughter?” the Dean asked, voice blasé, uninterested, as she scrolled through something on a tablet.

Jungkook blinked.

The embarrassment was making it difficult for him to think. He was reacting slowly, which only deepened his embarrassment.

“N-not the Duke-”

“Cadets of my Academy do not stutter,” the Dean snapped, eyes rising to meet his, dark and irritated.

Jungkook swallowed, tongue feeling like lead.

“Sorry, Dean Lancin.”

“Better. Now hurry up and get out.”

“It was a group of six nobles. They were wearing casual attire, soI couldn’t see which branch or their rank, but there were six,” Jungkook rambled weakly, unable to keep the Dean’s gaze without melting.

The Dean co*cked her head, incredulous frown on her face, as the five sapphires in her ear caught the light.

Jungkook shrunk under her gaze, very very aware of his own single red ruby.

“The only group of six yesterday was Bangtan,” the Dean’s voice was brutal, “And you have absolutely no business with them.”

Bangtan?

“The Bangtan? The Crown’s Bangtan?” Jungkook asked, disbelievingly.

“Get out of my office, Cadet.” The Dean went back to looking at her work, but-

“They’re my matches. I made a preliminary bond with them when they visited,” Jungkook blurted, disrespectful, out-of-turn.

The Dean narrowed her eyes.

Irritation burning in her gaze as she leaned forward. “I heard of your little stunt in the hallway, pretending to have Guide distress of all things. No one came in contact with Bangtan, and if you were their match, they’d notice before even you did.”

“But-”

“Do you know how many Guides pretended to have Guide distress yesterday? Five. At least the rest of them are decent Guides. You can’t even say that much, Jeon. Get out.”

“I can- I can prove it. Please, I’ll can prove it, just give me a chance.”

“I won’t ask again. Get out.”

“Any Guide will be able to confirm it. Please, I swear I’m not lying. Please, Dean Lancin-”

“Let’s get this straight,” the Dean snarled, standing up and rounding her desk, “You will never lie to me again. Especially this blatantly. If I didn’t believe your guiding betters, I’m certainly not going to believe you.”

Jungkook took wary steps back, crossing through the doorway, trying to maintain his distance from the angry woman.

“The audacity of you to lie to me this way. You are lucky you’re here in this academy at all, considering the likelihood of you bonding to a Sentinel is abysmal. I don’t want to hear a word of this from you ever again.”

The Dean slammed her door closed, leaving Jungkook humiliated in the hallway, cheeks red, ears hot, as he hid face with his hands.

Chapter 6: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Chapter 4:

Jungkook approached every single connection he had, desperately pleading with them for just a moment to talk to Bangtan, just some sort of communication. He’d take anything.

A tablet line, an address, a promise to pass the information along.

He knew what he felt.

He could prove it.

He just needed to see them again, one more time. Any guide would be able to see the bit of Jungkook’s aura in theirs, and confirm the match.

It would be undeniable.

But he always got the same answer.

No.

“I didn’t take you for a Bangtan fanboy, Jeon.”

“Bangtan personally picks the best Guides on the planet, Jeon.”

“Why don’t you work on improving your ranking first, hm?.”

“There are easier ways to ask for attention, Jeon.”

“The audacity you have to say you’re good match to the most powerful Sentinels in the country.”

No one believed him. And after a week of asking for favors, Jungkook resigned himself to not receiving one.

There was no way Jungkook would get a special meeting with them.

The next time Bangtan would visit the Academy would be next year, when the next batch of Cadets graduate. Bangtan picks the best Guides from the graduating class.

Jungkook was a freshman now.

The next time he’d get a glimpse of them was perhaps in a year.

But his only chance to ever speak to them, would be when he graduated, in four years.

—

Fours years was a long time.

It also didn’t feel like enough.

Jungkook knew he had one shot to impress Bangtan, the strongest, most decorated Sentinels in the Crown’s armed forces.

One shot.

Jungkook wasn’t going to squander it.

If people wanted to ignore him, then Jungkook would become impossible to ignore.

He’d be the prettiest pearl in goddamn Vierna, no matter how many discount stickers others wanted to put on him, it’d be impossible to deny his value.

—

That day forward, Jungkook steeled himself.

If he was going to be Bangtan’s Guide, he’d have to deal with far more backlash than just a couple Cadets and Administrators disliking him.

He’d have to deal with the fury of planets.

This was nothing.

Spine straight, shoulders back, nose up-turned.

Jungkook began walking through the Academy with absolutely no shame. If they wanted to whisper behind his back- they were welcome to it.

They’d be left staring at his back, anyways.

Jungkook had his eyes set firmly ahead.

He had sh*t to do.

—

“Hi Professor,” Jungkook greeted softly, walking into their office, “I’m wondering why I got a 98 on this essay instead of a 100?”

—

The library was dim and empty at two AM, but Jungkook sat alone at a desk, muttering to himself, as he memorized formulas for his micro-engineering exam.

—

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Baekhyun wheezed, slamming his hand on the ‘stop’ button of his treadmill.

“You’re the one who tried to keep up,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, finishing his thirtieth mile without an issue.

—

Jungkook swept his leg, knocking the six-foot tall Null off her feet, making her slam to the ground. Quick as a snake, Jungkook pounced on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

“I win.”

—

The Sentinel sobbed, collapsing on the floor, crying about how he couldn’t hear himself think.

Jungkook didn’t pay it any mind, simply glancing at the clock-

Seven minutes, he’d broken his own record.

—

Jungkook allowed himself a small smile as he walked out of the simulation room. He’d been the first person to make it through the asteroid field simulation with an entirely unscathed battleship.

No damage. No casualties. No moral violations.

—

Jungkook spent all his time, training, studying, practicing.

Doing absolutely everything he could think of in order to be a damn good Guide, solider, and match.

—

And whenever Jungkook had even a moment of free time he spent it-

“Jungkook,” Baekhyun groaned, “Seriously?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hushed, eyes glued to his tablet screen.

“You’re re-watching it?”

“It’s a new one. He’s addressing the Royal University’s students, now shut up,” Jungkook ordered, shoving his friend away.

General Park Jimin of the Crown’s Bangtan unit, was standing behind a podium, platinum hair shining under the stage lights, as he spoke about the discovery of a new mega-star on the outer-reaches of the known galaxy, and how the odd gravitational pull involved made traveling there damn near impossible.

The General’s personal specialization was Astrophysics, and it was very very clear that he was an expert, if not a leader, in his field.

Jungkook watched with enamored eyes, as Dr. Park spoke about complex theorems that Jungkook, even with his advanced knowledge, didn’t quite understand.

Dr. Park was a charismatic speaker, bright white teeth shining in his smile as he spoke with a warm, endearing voice.

He was part Calabar, a serpent-like alien species known for being excellent space explorers. You could see the subtle shine to his face, glossier than skin, hinting of scales. Every once in a while, he’d pause between his words, and Jungkook would catch a glimpse of the man’s forked tongue.

“This is like the third lecture from this dude this week,” Baekhyun muttered, in the background, “Are you trying to specialize in Astrophysics?”

Jungkook sighed, pausing the lecture, not moving his eyes away from Jimin’s face.

“The other two were Dr. Kim Taehyung. He’s an established professor in the xeno department. Jimin is a researcher with the University- he mostly just presents his work after publication,” Jungkook explained briskly.

“And this is Park?”

“Yep.”

“So you’re ignoring four of your idols? That’s not very equal of you, Jungkookie,” Baekhyun teased, pulling up a chair, so he could watch the lecture, too.

Jungkook sighed.

“They’re the only two that frequently give public appearances. General Kim Namjoon is a politician, so he still gives the occasional speech on export changes or COAL legislation. But General Jung Hoseok is the Head Medical Opinion for the Crown’s Department of Health; you can never see him. Yoongi works with the mecha’s somewhere, I still can’t find out where he tinkers. General Kim does make a lot of public appearances, but they’re mostly red-carpets, so I just save the photos,” Jungkook explained, hand hovering over the tablet, “Can I play it now?”

Baekhyun blinked, before laughing, weak and mildly concerned.

“I was teasing, Jungkook, stars, what the f*ck.”

“I like them,” Jungkook shrugged, “Now shut up.”

Jungkook pressed play, spending his Friday night watching his perfect match explain obscure astrophysics.

—

“The Confederacy of Allied Legions is vital to maintain peace,” General Kim Namjoon’s firm voice stated, full of thinly veiled irritation, “COAL has allowed us to promote peace and civil rights throughout the galaxy.”

Jungkook woke up with a soft smile, eyes closed as he stretched, entering consciousness with Kim Namjoon’s comforting voice in his ears.

“I think it is incredibly remiss of Grand Emperor Dedruva to imply otherwise. We are the strongest force in the galaxy, and that virtue is the sole reason we are capable of setting the moral standard.”

Jungkook had found several public press-conferences and recorded senate hearings from when Kim Namjoon was still a young politician.

They were all amazing.

But this one.

There was something about this one, that just had Jungkook’s stomach twisting with butterflies. Namjoon Kim usually had an unshakably even tone. But here, it was audible just how very furious he’d been with the foreign monarch.

The thinly veiled rage in Namjoon Kim’s voice sparked butterflies in Jungkook’s stomach.

His voice was so low, so low that his speaker had to use its bass in order to capture it properly, and the feel of it vibrating through his bones had him melting.

It was the perfect morning alarm.

Jungkook yawned, eyes drowsily blinking open, as he looked at the sunny morning sky.

“We live in an inefficiently large galaxy, with easily interceptable communication and bulky space travel,” Namjoon Kim stated. Voice hard. Factual.

“When stealth and efficiency are impossible, the only strength that remains is those in numbers,” Jungkook mumbled, sleepily.

“When stealth and efficiency are impossible, the only strength that remains is those in numbers,” Kim Namjoon’s voice said, “Sheer force of number, while a blunt weapon, is an effective one. So effective, I’d like to remind the Grand Emperor that their forces are a negligible contribution to COAL.”

“Wishing to secede from COAL is to reject COAL’s commandments, and I, personally, will not tolerate having a neighboring planet who isn’t a staunch advocate for the inherent civil rights the Commandments outline,” Jungkook yawned, getting out of bed and rolling his eyes.

“Wishing to secede from COAL is to reject COAL’s commandments, and I, personally, will not tolerate having a neighboring planet who isn’t a staunch advocate for the inherent civil rights the Commandments outline,” Namjoon Kim said, voice becoming dark, “So I do hope the Grand Emperor has more time to ponder his statements, which were, no-doubt a product of stress and misunderstanding.

Jungkook happily smiled to himself, clicking off his alarm.

What a good way to start off the day.

—

Jungkook giggled, excited, as he plugging in the extra memory chip into his tablet, watching the video feed to load.

Jungkook didn’t limit himself to what was available for public consumption.

That wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough to satisfy the curiosity thrumming in the back of his head.

It wasn’t enough to slow down his pining, rapid heartbeat.

It wasn’t enough to stop the restless twitching of his fingers.

Nothing was enough.

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

So here Jungkook was, watching blurry, classified video-records of Bangtan’s missions.

They were stunning in battle.

They all might have their own specialities outside of the battlefield, but on it- they were all equally lethal.

They moved like a single fluid unit. Perfect aim, perfect movements, perfect instincts.

Jungkook, with pathetically infatuated eyes, watched Bangtan tackle army after army on planet after planet.

They had most definitely earned their reputation. If anything, the rumors felt like understatements.

After all, it was one thing to hear that Bangtan were the strongest Sentinels on the planet.

It was another thing to see them mumble under their breaths, and have the others be able to hear them from across the city.

It was another thing to watch them bob and weave through bullets with perfect accuracy.

It was another thing to see their noses twitch, as they smelled the poison being stored several kilometers away.

It was another thing to watch them feel the ridges of a fingerprint left on a piece of glass.

They were incredible.

Almost unstoppable.

The almost- of course- was no fault of their own.

It was their Guides’.

Bangtan were respectful, old-fashioned. They always placed themselves in between their Guide and the insurgents.

Guides were valued. Precious. Special.

Guides were less sensitive to stimulation, more likely to be caught off guard, vulnerable. They were undeniably less suited to a battlefield.

As such, Guides were placed firmly behind troop lines. They were protected, sheltered from the spray of ammunition that their Sentinels faced.

After all, it was shameful for a Sentinel’s Guide to experience physical harm. Guides were vulnerable things that already worked so hard keeping their Sentinel safe, Sentinels were required to offer the same consideration in return.

Bangtan always took this a step further.

They never hesitated to use themselves as literal human shields for their Guides. Jungkook had seen Bangtan tackle their Guides to the ground and shield their vulnerable partners from literal bomb blasts. He’s watched General Min take blaster fire while carrying his Guide to safety.

Bangtan protected their Guides. They coddled them. Provided them the best of everything, rewarded them handsomely.

The only thing Bangtan asked of their Guides was for their Guiding services.

They only asked one thing of those pathetic Guides. The only thing the Guides had to do was guide Bangtan out of zones when they happened. That was it.

The Guides couldn’t even do that properly.

Jungkook glared at the fuzzy, pixelated figures of the Guides that had gotten the honor of guiding Jungkook’s mates. They had received a rare privilege, and they wasted it, squandered it, failed it.

Jungkook watched Jung’s prone figure on the ground. A Guide hovering over him, attempting to guide him out of a zone, only to collapse on top of the Sentinel themselves.

They left Jung alone and vulnerable in the middle of a battlefield.

This was moments after Jungkook had watched Jung carry that Guide through enemy fire to carry them to safety. Jung had zoned in the effort of getting his Guide to safety.

And he was paying for it now.

Jung should have just let them die, Jungkook thought viciously, if they can’t take care of themselves on a battlefield, they shouldn’t have been on it in the first place. They shouldn’t have been f*cking born.

Jungkook exhaled, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

He needed to take a walk.

Chapter 7: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 5:

Ten Days Ago

The city was engulfed in chaos.

A hulking warship, the length of a dozen football fields, hovered above the city, dropping bomb after bomb upon the capital. The native forces were scattered between offense and defense, unable to attack something so massive and unable to defend its citizens from bombs that fell nonsensically.

Bangtan had arrived with several COAL battalions, but even the added manpower hadn’t done much when the odds were so skewed in the invader’s favor.

“Hoseok, watch out. They’re adjusting their aim,” Yoongi said.

Though Yoongi was on the other side of the city, Hoseok could hear his voice clear as day. Their ear-pieces were malfunctioning, but that didn’t change Hoseok’s ability to hear his husband.

Hoseok could hear a pin drop dozens of miles away. He was able to pick Yoongi’s voice out of the roar of battle with ease. It wasn’t even something he had to think about. Yoongi spoke and Hoseok would hear him.

Hoseok sighed, recharging his blaster. “Any guesses on their new target?” He spoke at a conversational volume, sure Yoongi would hear him.

“You ask as if they haven’t just been blasting sh*t at random,” Yoongi scoffed.

Hoseok hummed. There were multiple tall buildings still standing at the center of the capital. If Hoseok had to guess- those would be likely targets. They were eye-catching, and as Yoongi had said, there seemed to be no order to the bomb blasts other than random whim.

Hoseok could hear clicking and whirring from inside the warship- reloading and re-aiming, according to Yoongi.

“Brace!” Hoseok shouted, towards the squad of soldiers he was leading, just in case their guesses were wrong.

Click.

Fizzzzzz.

Hoseok looked up, seeing the artillery shell flying through the sky.

The Sentinel, a marksman by training, automatically traced the artillery shell’s trajectory, following the path down to the ground-

It was going to fall on the far eastern side of the city.

Right where Jimin was.

Jimin.

Without a thought, Hoseok holstered his blaster and began to run, shouting orders at his subordinates to follow while he was gone.

—

Jimin glanced around.

There were only a few tall buildings in the city, which was a lucky thing, considering that they were the most vulnerable to attack and the most capable of causing collateral damage.

It would be best to evacuate the buildings and the surrounding area, if the native army hadn’t done so already.

Jimin co*cked his head, staring at the group of buildings a couple hundred meters away, trying to pick apart heartbeats from the rest of the sounds surrounding him. His sense of hearing wasn’t the most sensitive.

He could hear heartbeats hundreds of heartbeats, all fluttering to their own rhythm. There were so many, it was difficult to pick out an individual. Harder still was to pick out the locations of those individuals, trying to figure out specifically whether there was anyone in those taller structures.

Jimin closed his eyes and focused; he needed to know if he should tell Namjoon to try and evacuate that building. It was his responsibility to minimize civilian casualties.

Jimin’s thoughts raced, becoming hyper-focused, as he peeled back layer after layer of auditory input his brain received, attempting to isolate only the sounds he was interested in.

It was faint, but-

Boom.

A massive bomb went off.

It was fifty meters away from Jimin. Not close enough that it would be fatal, but not far enough that shrapnel and heat of the blast didn’t do damage. These bombs had been destroying multiple buildings with one blast.

The explosion sent him flying; his body slammed against a slab of broken concrete.

Jimin wasn’t mortally injured. His clothes were blast-proof, but even if they weren’t- the Sentinel had enough benefits from being 0.9% Calabar that he would have been just fine. He had a kinetic jaw that absorbed shockwaves, which served as an effective concussion deterrent. His outermost layer of skin was was made of densely-packed, keratin scales and the basal layers were dense with collagen.

Jimin had burns, and his head ached. But, other than a few moderate cuts from shrapnel, he was fine, physically.

Mentally though, that was an entirely different story.

Jimin groaned, a weak pathetic sound, as his hyper-focused senses were overwhelmed with the thunderous shudder that came from the bomb blast.

The Sentinel groaned, curling in on himself, clutching his head, pain flashing through his temples-

Temperature had been 25.55 C, then 176.8 C, cooling now, slightly, slightly, heat dissipating, rate of 1.23 Celsius a second, stone on his skin was 201.3 C, his own skin was 43.33 C, internal temperature was cold, cold, cold. 121 decibels, initial blast, consequential ringing 20,000 hertz, the sound repeated in his head, over and over and over again, 175.6 C now. loud and echoing, Internal body temperature 40 C. a several crashing sounds from the buildings it uprooted, 174.4 C now, screams, rattling larynxes, a thud from his own body hitting the ground

boom, boom, boom,

The heat was the worst. His heat-receptive pit organs along crest of cheekbones were burning, shocked by the sudden change in temperature. His skin felt cold; the air felt hot; the ashen debris on his face felt like fire. Breathing in the hot, smoke-filled air felt like drowning in boiling water.

He couldn’t breathe.

Blastwave gone, lasted three milliseconds, last of it dissipated after hitting the six 500 meter high skyscrapers made of vulconium a kilometer east of here. Three hundred thirty one heart-beats had been beating, but now only three hundred thirty. Heart attack. Stress. Blunt force trauma, my mistake, guilt, guilt, guilt

His skin felt like it was melting.

Shock waves gone, damage- Damage to thirty COAL soldiers, need medical attention, heart rates too high, too hot, too hot, too hot, too hot, ten soldiers- shell shock, brain waves skewed, need medical attention, concussions, lasting neurological damage, broken fibula, hairline fracture in the femur,

Everything burned.

Fragmentation of the bomb. Disastrous, sixty thousand, five hundred seventy one pieces of shrapnel, ranging from a 23.4 centimeters wide to .03 millimeters. Shrapnel in twenty three buildings, four tanks, sixty soldiers, ten civilians, in the air, in his lungs, creating micro-tears in his esophagus.

It was so very hot.

—

Hoseok jumped off of the magnet-cycle he had stolen, kicking the stand, and running in the direction of Jimin’s heartbeat.

Hoseok was the fastest runner in Bangtan; he probably could have kept place with the magnet-cycle on the way here. But he needed a way to take Jimin to help if the Sentinel needed moving, so magnet-cycle it was.

The bomb had exploded eight and a half minutes before, and since then, Jimin had been unresponsive. Odds were that Jimin had zoned, since Jimin’s vital signs seemed fairly steady.

It was unlikely Jimin was mortally injured. Jimin’s blood didn’t smell unique, but, regardless, Hoseok didn’t smell blood from the direction he knew his husband was in.

It was only a few seconds of running before Hoseok reached his mate’s prone body. Jimin was unconscious, laying on a slab of concrete. Hoseok’s hands smoothed over his body, attempting to screen for injury.

Unsurprisingly, Jimin had second and third degree burns covering his periphery.

“Jimin. Can you hear me?” Hoseok asked.

He waited a moment. Jimin didn’t response, eyes remaining closed, labored breathing unchanged.

“Jimin. Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes,” Hoseok repeated.

Jimin remained unresponsive.

Zone it is, Hoseok thought. He took his hands off of Jimin, knowing better to touch if not necessary, now that he knew Jimin was in a zone.

Jimin likely zoned from the heat of the bomb. Jimin had snake-like pit organs on his nose and cheeks; they were incredibly sensitive to temperature change, and Hoseok was sure that the sudden change in atmospheric temperature probably caused his over-stimulation.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Quickly, Hoseok’s eyes flicked over Jimin’s white uniform- rumpled, dirty, but not torn, not blood-stained.

He’s okay, zoned, but okay, Hoseok thought, mentally triaging the injuries he could see.

Hoseok looked up, looking around for Jimin’s Guide, before remembering the poor thing died last week.

“I need a Guide,” he said, even though no one was there to answer him.

Jimin whimpered, his pretty features creasing into a pained expression, as he rolled onto his side.

“Mine is out,” Yoongi replied, sounding out of breath.

Even though the man himself was on the other side of the city, Hoseok could hear his voice perfectly. They could all pick out their mates’ voices in the cacophony of battlefield noises with ease.

Extremely hypersensitive hearing had its uses.

“I need a Guide,” Hoseok repeated, “Jimin is unresponsive with second and third degree burns. This is urgent,” Hoseok repeated to himself, fingers twitching out to touch Jimin, to see if his pupils were dilated, to check his reflexes, even though he very much knew better.

When a Sentinel zoned, everything was unwanted stimulation. Hoseok would do his best not to add to it.

The sound of Hoseok’s eyes blinking could be thunderous. The feeling of UV rays on his skin could feel scalding. The smell of Oxygen in the air could be nauseating. The taste of soot on his tongue could be stomach-turning. The sight of the barest bits of light that filtered through his eyelids could be blinding.

Everything could be too much when you were overstimulated with hyper-sensitive senses.

Jimin just groaned, eyelashes fluttering against, not moving a muscle.

Since he wasn’t a Guide, Hoseok couldn’t guide Jimin out of his zone. He couldn’t treat Jimin for his burns until he saw a Guide. And while Bangtan only had the best Guides, every minute increased the likelihood of Guiding-related symptoms. Seizures, acute memory loss, brain fog, disorientation, vertigo. And worse of all- the longer a Sentinel was zoned, the less likely it was for a Guide to pull them out.

Even though that timeline was in hours instead of minutes, Hoseok didn’t enjoy any delay when it came to getting his husbands zone-care.

“It seems we’re down to two,” Seokjin said, voice prim from across the city, “Namjoon’s is closest, northeast of you by the bridge. Switch positions with him.”

Seokjin was south of the city. He had taken up the responsibility of trying to capture an enemy Lieutenant. Clearly, Seokjin had accomplished the task with ease, if he was willing to enter the conversation.

Sometimes, Seokjin was terrifying.

“Received, sir,” Hoseok answered, voice loud and crisp.

He leaned down, picking up Jimin and heaving him over his shoulder. Jimin’s body was on the lighter side, prioritizing fast-twitch muscle and flexibility, so it wasn’t a struggle to move him around.

“Come on, Jimin,” Hoseok muttered, throwing his husband over the back of a magnet-cycle, “Let’s get you care.”

—

Hoseok kicked off the cycle, Jimin in his arms.

The magnet-cycle crashed into a nearby building, engine revving noisily, as it skittered against the barrier, metal scraping against concrete in a painful sound, before the bike finally lost its last reserves of energy.

Hoseok jogged forward, Jimin’s weight negligible in his arms as he approached Namjoon.

The older Sentinel was standing over a cliff, watching his own battalion fight the invaders, detached and calculating; he was always a strategist first, and a soldier second.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon greeted, reassuring, turning away from the battle, though undoubtedly keeping a close ear to its progression. “Are you okay?”

“I am. He zoned.”

“I know.” Because of course he did, Namjoon had the same god-like hearing that Hoseok did; he undoubtedly eavesdropped on Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin’s entire exchange. “My guide is a little worse for wear, but I’m sure he’ll be able to manage. He’s a courageous one.”

“Right,” Hoseok muttered, adrenaline pumping through his body, mind flipping through possible outcomes. If this Guide didn’t work, they’d have to try and wake up Yoongi’s, or take Jimin off-planet, back to the COAL forces waiting past the end of the atmosphere.

Neither option was ideal.

Hoseok didn’t want Jimin to hit the hour mark; an hour was when Jimin would begin being at moderate risk for symptoms.

“I’ll go to Seokjin. You stay with Jimin. Keep an eye on the skirmish, below. Once victory is clear, you can take Jimin back to the ship,” Namjoon ordered. Even though Namjoon’s husbands were worth a hundred soldiers, Namjoon never missed an opportunity to get them off of the battlefield.

“Yes, sir,” Hoseok murmured, already walking towards Namjoon’s guide.

“Let me know if the troops need some auxiliary support,” Namjoon ordered, before jogging towards his own sleek bike. The Sentinel smoothly mounted the machine, wheels skidding for a moment, before he disappeared in a flash of light and smoke.

Hoseok didn’t pay attention. Namjoon would be fine.

Hoseok set Jimin’s body on the ground, before looking up.

“Lukash. At attention,” Jimin called out, irritated at the lack of professionalism. His eyes settled on the shaking body curled up against a pile of rubble.

The COAL soldier looked up. Bangtan’s seal glittered on their chest. The Guide’s eyes were bloodshot, heartbeat racing, breathing shallow and fast.

They looked terrible, but they were healthy enough. Their vital signs were poor, but they weren’t mortal enough to take priority over Jimin.

Then again, Hoseok would let a dozen Guides die before Jimin suffered. And he had, multiple times over. So, it wasn’t like Hoseok’s mental triaging was fair.

What a shame.

“General Park has been zoned for approximately twenty-seven minutes,” Hoseok explained, “He was within the blasting range of one of their BLU-85’s. He’s unresponsive. I haven’t checked for reflexes. His eyes have been fluttering. I think it had to do with the heat of the blast.”

The Guide shook his head, weak, tired, “Please, I can’t, I don’t-”

“This is your job,” Hoseok said, “I’m not asking for much.”

The Guide just looked at him, silently begging at him for…

What?

For him to let his mate die in a zone?

Not even a possible outcome.

Hoseok clicked his tongue, “I understand your hesitation, but you will be guiding my husband. The longer you wait, the harder you make your job and higher risk you put yourself for Guide distress.”

The Guide didn’t move.

Twenty eight minutes, Hoseok counted to himself. Time was ticking, and this Guide was moving too slow.

“Urella,” Hoseok said, voice apathetic, “There are three options before you. I kill you for insubordination. You die while guiding General Park. Or, you hurry up and guide him while your task isn’t monumentally difficult. It’s up to you.”

The Guide flinched, unused to hearing their Sentinel sound so cruel, before nodding, shakily crawling forward to Jimin’s body.

Their body had weakened significantly since the first time Hoseok had met them months ago. Their strong, muscled body had thinned down to a bony, bruised skeleton. A very low BMI and abysmal bone density.

Hoseok felt a great deal of pity. If she had been his utmost priority, if Hoseok was fair, perhaps she would have survived.

But that just wasn’t the case.

But, Guides were still soldiers, and soldiers were meant to fulfill their duty. It was unfortunate, but that was the expectation. No one had forced Urella to take the position, she had taken it with a smile, had enjoyed the prestige the title had given her, and now came the time for her to pay for it.

With a few stumbled movements, the Guide knelt beside Jimin’s head, hands reaching out to brush against the limp Sentinel’s temples.

“How long, again?” they asked, voice hoarse.

“Twenty-nine minutes.”

The Guide winced at the number but stayed silent.

“If you do this, Seokjin will see to it that you are thoroughly compensated,” Hoseok said, trying to be encouraging, even though he knew this was by-far an adequate example of good bedside manner.

The Guide gave him one last helpless look.

Hoseok just titled his head towards Jimin with a hard, unyielding expression.

It didn’t matter either way.

Both Hoseok and the Guide knew this was going to kill them.

But there was nothing Hoseok could do about it. The second-closest Guide was unconscious, and the third-closest Guide was at least an hour away. There was no other option.

The Guide closed their eyes, whimpering as they dove into Jimin’s mind, trying to free the Sentinel from his zone. They held Jimin’s hand with on hand, and palmed his forehead with the other.

“Time to come back, Sentinel Park,” the Guide mumbled, face contorting into a frown, “Time to come back.”

Hoseok kept mild attention on Jimin’s body, trying to keep an eye out for signs of distress.

But the majority of Hoseok’s attention was on the panting, swaying Guide.

Hoseok watched their expression carefully, gripping their hair and yanking it when they seemed close to losing consciousness.

They weren’t allow to pass out. Both because it put the Guide at higher risk of dying from Guide distress, but also- Jimin couldn’t be pulled of his zone if the Guide died half-way through.

“At attention, Urella,” Hoseok reminded, sharply pulling their hair to force their posture straight when they began to sway, “You aren’t done.”

The Guide hunched over, groaning, hand slipping away from Jimin’s forehead, and Hoseok reached for his knife, ready to offer stronger stimulation to keep them awake when-

“Sir?”

—

Jimin’s eyes fluttered open, squinty, like he was still suffering from a headache.

Hoseok let go of his grip on the Guide’s hair. They fell over, dead body hitting the ground with a heavy thump. In the back of his mind, he called time of death.

Hoseok took his hand off of his blaster, crouching down beside Jimin, waving a hand in front of Jimin’s eyes.

“Jimin,” Hoseok said, briskly, as he started mentally going through the neurological checklist, “What’s the date? Where are we?”

“Hoseok, please,” Jimin whined, “My head hurts too much for this.”

“So you want a scan?” Hoseok asked, point-blank.

Jimin blinked, then rapidly shook his head, “No sir, sorry, sir, it’s November 13th. We’re defending Planet Efliq.”

“Good,” Hoseok said, shaking his head, “Repeat after me, “No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“No ifs, and, or buts,” Jimin groaned, leaning his head back.

Hoseok fluttered his fingers in Jimin’s far left periphery, “Can you see that?”

“Yes. I’m not blind, sir.”

Hoseok didn’t deem that worthy of a response, instead just switching to fluttering his fingers in Jimin’s right periphery. “Can you see that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now raise your eyebrows… Now close your left eye…. Your right… Smile with teeth… Shrug your shoulders,” Hoseok ordered, watching Jimin do everything perfectly.

“See? I’m fine,” Jimin muttered, easily sitting up.

“You aren’t qualified to give a medical opinion,” Hoseok said, dismissive, “Close your eyes and raise your arms. Hold them in the air.”

Jimin’s arms stayed steady, remaining at the same height for several seconds; they didn’t waver at all.

“Open your eyes. Squeeze my hands.”

Jimin opened his amber eyes, reaching out and petulantly squeezing Hoseok’s hands with all of his strength, trying to punish Hoseok for making him go through such a long silly test.

“Good,” Hoseok said, pleased with the strength in Jimin’s grip. He shifted lower down Jimin’s body, hands pressing against the soles of Jimin’s boots. “Push towards me.”

Jimin flexed his feet, pointing his toes towards Hoseok despite the moderate resistance of Hoseok’s hands.

“Good. Almost done. Can you put your finger to your nose?”

Jimin did so with no issues.

Hoseok reached out, fingers brushing against the right and left sides of Jimin’s forehead, “Can you feel that? Do they feel the same.”

“Yep.”

Hoseok brushed his fingers against Jimin’s right and left cheek. Then the right and left side of Jimin’s jaw. Hoseok’s fingers pressed against the sides of Jimin’s shoulders, then the tops of Jimin’s hands. Jimin confirmed that he could feel everything and both sides felt the same. When Hoseok shifted lower, moving towards Jimin’s shoes again, the young Sentinel whined.

“No, please don’t take them off, it takes forever to put them back on,” Jimin pouted, “Pleasee.”

Hoseok sighed.

It would bother him that he left off the final step, but Jimin seemed fine. If he was aware enough to be whining about putting his boots on, Hoseok felt comfortable enough leaving it here. Besides, it’s not like he had to chart it.

“Fine, you little brat. We can skip the feet,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, standing up, before offering Jimin an extended hand.

Jimin took it, heaving himself up and huffing with the effort, even though Hoseok was holding a solid majority of Jimin’s weight.

He needs rest, Hoseok decided.

“See? Told you I was fine,” Jimin said, sounding much too smug for someone who just struggled to stand up and was struggling to stay upright.

Hoseok wrapped an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, helping his young husband stay upright. Jimin was by no means small, but Hoseok did have an inch or two on him.

“You have extensive burns on your hands, forearms, and neck. And a burn on your forehead. I couldn’t see anything else,” Hoseok said, “Does anything feel broken?”

Jimin shook his head, “I think just a cut or two on my stomach.”

Hoseok nodded his head, once again so very thankful for Jimin’s mods. Jimin survived a bomb blast with little more than a few burns and a paper-cut. Jimin’s scale-like skin was strong enough to defend the Sentinel against speeding shrapnel from a 13,000 pound bomb.

Though, Jimin was stumbling. Poor thing.

“Let’s check on the battle, and then we’ll get you back to base,” Hoseok said, letting Jimin lean on him as they walked towards the cliffside where Namjoon had been standing.

Below, COAL soldiers were taking ground, steadily pushing back the invaders. Taehyung had been right to suggest ground skirmishes. Their ships were impenetrable, but their soldiers sure weren’t. 140507 Blasters set to burn blew massive holes in the six-legged soldiers.

“We’re winning?” Jimin said, observing, full weight leaning on Hoseok’s chest.

“As if Namjoon would have allowed anything else.”

“True. Namjoon would sooner call me ‘sir’ than to lose to a bunch of insects,” Jimin grinned.

Hoseok hummed, “He probably heard that, you know.”

Jimin blinked, “Oops.”

“Yeah, Jiminie? I should call you sir, sometime?” They both heard Namjoon’s voice from across the city, muffled slightly from the walls off the building he was in.

“No, sir,” Jimin said, blanching.

Hoseok chuckled.

“Head back to base. We’re wrapping up here,” Namjoon told them.

“Received,” Hoseok answered, nudging Jimin, “Come on, let’s go.”

Jimin paused, as if deciding whether or not to argue, before nodding. “Okay…These are expeditable burns, right?”

Hoseok smiled, amused at the superficial concern, “It’s been two months since you last shed, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been 13 weeks.”

Hoseok thought about it; Jimin shed his out-most layer of scales based on an internal hormone cycle. It wasn’t difficult to expedite new epidermis growth; it was just an injection of the right hormone at the right time.

His natural cycle was four months, but it could drop to as short as 8 weeks when Jimin was stressed. So, as long as it had been more than two, it was biologically possible.

“It should be,” Hoseok nodded, “We’ll check back at base, but I’d imagine we can trigger your shedding early.”

“Good, I had a presentation at the University, and I don’t wanna do it with burns on my- oh,” Jimin’s eyes settled on the body of the dead Guide, finally noticing them, “I killed them? They died while Guiding me?” Jimin’s eyes watered, lower lip beginning to wobble. “I didn’t even notice. I was talking about my skin, like nothing was wrong, but- but, I killed-”

“They died doing their job,” Hoseok corrected, voice stern.

Jimin shook his head, pressing his lips together, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His hands fisted Hoseok’s clothes.

“It’s my fault,” Jimin whispered, staring at Urella’s corpse, “I shouldn’t have zoned. I wasn’t paying attention. I should have heard the bomb coming.”

“Your job was leading civilian rescue. You did that. Their job was guiding you. They did that. The rest is just unfortunate luck.”

“But they wouldn’t have had to Guide me, if-”

“Jimin. Did you purposefully make yourself zone?”

“No.”

“It was an accident?”

“… I guess so.”

“Every Sentinel’s zones are accidental. None of us mean to do it. Urella knew that. He knew it wasn’t your fault.”

If anything, he’d blame me, Hoseok thought to himself. After all, it was Hoseok that had decided Urella would die guiding Jimin. Urella hadn’t died if Hoseok hadn’t ordered him to do it.

Regardless, Hoseok was content with his decision. Urella was an unmodded Guide; they’d live until 80 if they were lucky. Jimin had centuries ahead of him. Even unbiased, it was an easy choice to make.

“You think so?” Jimin asked, turning towards Hoseok, silently begging for Hoseok to release him of the insurmountable guilt he felt.

“I know it, Jimin,” Hoseok said, pressing a gentle kiss to Jimin’s cheek, “Now, let’s get you back to base, okay?”

“Okay, sir.”

—

Chapter 8: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Chapter 6:

Jimin sighed, leaning his head on Taehyung’s shoulder.

The battle was over and Jimin was exhausted.

Taehyung huffed, flopping down, so he was laying on his back, on the plush piece of cushioned furniture, with Jimin lying on top of him. Their legs entangled, as Jimin nuzzled the sliver of Taehyung’s neck that wasn’t covered by their high-necked coats.

The Sentinel exhaled, feeling the soft silk fabric of Taehyung’s robes against his cheek. Taehyung’s skin was pressed right against the little pit organs lining Jimin’s cheekbones, but he didn’t mind it; the warmth coming off of Taehyung’s body was soothing now that he had gotten over the burst of over-stimulation.

It was nice for Jimin to not have to regulate his own body temperature for a little while. While he was most definitely still warm-blooded, thermo-regulation wasn’t exactly something his body did easily.

However, despite the comfortable position and warmth, Jimin still wasn’t entirely comfortable.

Jimin and Taehyung were lying down on a couch on the main floor of their battleship, the central lobby area essentially.

Soldiers milled about, sipping their electrolyte drinks, speaking with friends, calling loved ones back home on Terran, recovering from minor wounds.

It was quite a bit of stimulation.

But even that wasn’t why Jimin was uncomfortable.

No, it was all the bond-pairs in the room.

Sitting, speaking, cuddling, kissing, pulling each other back to their shared quarters.

Guides fussing over their injured Sentinels, and Sentinels double-checking that their Guides were uninjured.

Sets of Sentinels and Guides, either loosely bonded for professional purposes or intimately bonded, a sign of deep affection and trust.

The former Jimin was jealous of, the latter Jimin craved more than anything.

Bangtan were too hard for Guides to guide without the use of deeper more intimate bonds. And perhaps Jimin ought to be more grateful that his Guides were willing to bond so deeply with him.

But all Jimin felt was loss.

Every year, a new stranger- though nice and eager-eyed, and blindly devoted to Bangtan and success and power- would overlap their mind with Jimin’s. Every year, Jimin would feel someone new rummaging around in the recesses of his mind.

Every year he’d feel violated, as someone he didn’t trust or find capable threw their weight around in his mind.

And then, every year, the little hooks they’d dug into his mind would be torn out as they died.

And then Jimin would start with a new stranger.

Jimin was so grateful for the Guides that wanted to guide him. The young, talented Cadets that tried their utmost. He was so appreciative of their sacrifice and was regretful of their loss.

But still.

He couldn’t help, but feel, selfishly, upset.

It was terrible, having to go through this cycle over and over and over again.

Jimin didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to have to do this.

But he had the weight of a galaxy resting on his shoulders.

He and his mates were ones best capable of maintaining peace. It was his duty to do so, even if it hurt.

Even if it was exhausting.

Even if it wreaked havoc on his sanity.

Even if Guides tore away parts of him every time they left.

It was his duty.

—

“We won’t be heading to Shoveri after this,” Jimin mumbled. The way his lips pressed against Taehyung’s skin slurred his words.

“Oh? Why- Oh. Right.”

Taehyung shut his eyes, holding onto Jimin a little tighter.

Funerals and paying respects.

Five of their Guides were dead.

A much more urgent matter than a diplomatic visit to a peaceful ally.

Adrenaline now gone, there was nothing to hold back the sadness and disappointment that rushed through him.

Taehyung…

Taehyung didn’t want to go to the funerals.

He didn’t want his Guides to be dead.

He didn’t want to find new Guides.

He didn’t want to do any of this.

He just wanted a match.

Just one.

Just someone to love and care for and cherish.

It wasn’t as if Taehyung didn’t love his five husbands. The other five Sentinels were the loves of his life. He couldn’t imagine living a day without them. He lived for them and he’d die for them

But- there was something unique about the bond between Sentinels and Guides.

That warm feeling of never being alone, of always being supported. The reassurance that someone that there, who would never let you fall.

Someone Taehyung could coddle, could pamper properly, free from the anxiety of their impending death.

Guides were so precious. They were meant to be treasured, to be kept safe from harm. Sentinels were the first and last line of defense for a Guide.

Taehyung was never able to do that.

He was never able to care for his Guides.

They all crumbled into corpses in his presence, and it hurt.

Taehyung had everything he could ever want. Doting, protective husbands. The known galaxy at his feet. Respect and adoration.

He had everything.

He could get everything.

Except for a Guide.

—

General Min of the United COAL forces was exhausted. His joints were numb, and Yoongi knew they’d be aching if he was able to properly feel pain. His heart was pounding in his chest, while his eyelids felt overwhelmingly heavy.

He badly needed an IV.

Before that, though, there was something he had to do.

Yoongi walked into the Med-bay, briskly walking past dozens of his injured subordinates. Doctors were looking over the sick, bleeding, and dead. The smells assaulted Yoongi’s sensitive senses, but he ignored them.

There was only one person he cared about at this point.

She was easy to spot, as her attending Doctor was impossible to miss.

Hoseok’s shining silver uniform was bright against the morbid backdrop of the rest of the room, even when caked with dirt and grime. He was smiling, warm and cheerful, as he cared for his patient. Yoongi knew that Hoseok also must have been exhausted.

Though Hoseok didn’t get tired the same way Yoongi did, it had been nearly two days since the last time the man had gotten to sleep. Fatigue must have been eating at him.

But Hoseok showed absolutely no signs of being anything but an attentive doctor. He was speaking to Yoongi’s Guide in a soft, gentle voice, holding her hand as he explained a medication regiment.

Yoongi did his best not to look at the small woman; she was plugged up to far too many machines, she looked less like a living person and more like an experiment gone wrong.

As Yoongi approached, Hoseok looked up, eyes crinkling as he saw his mate.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok murmured under his breath.

Yoongi was still half-way across the room, but he heard Hoseok’s words perfectly.

“How is she?”

Hoseok’s expression shuttered for a split second, before the smile was back, unwavering. He was always a good doctor for his patient. He bid a brief good-bye to Yoongi’s Guide, closing the curtain behind him, before offering Yoongi a more reserved, weak smile.

“She’ll be fine, just a little worse for wear.”

“But?”

“Lasting nerve damage, her mobility is a little compromised,” Hoseok admitted.

“And that’s fine to you?” Yoongi raised his voice to a conversational level, as he stopped, standing in front of Hoseok with a frown.

Hoseok sighed, pulling Yoongi close, and pressing a reassuring kiss to Yoongi’s frown.

Yoongi wanted to find comfort in Hoseok’s lips.

But as much as he loved Hoseok, it was an incredibly flimsy distraction for the poor girl Yoongi had left permanently crippled.

Hoseok sighed, when he felt Yoongi’s lips stay pursed in a frown underneath his efforts.

“She’s alive,” Hoseok said firmly, pulling away, “And I am doing my best to make her as healthy as possible, but you know chronic Guide fatigue can be a lot worse than this. She’s lucky.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. Irritated.

He had permanently crippled a woman, a Guide. He’d spent eight months protecting her from any and all harm, only to permanently mar the woman himself.

The only thing Yoongi’s Guides needed protection from, really, was Yoongi, himself.

“You really couldn’t have done better, Yoongi,” Hoseok said softly, “She’ll be fine. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“I know you’re not lying, Hoseok, but that doesn’t mean I’m satisfied, either,” Yoongi sighed, “I wanted better for her. She was so talented.”

“She’s still talented,” Hoseok reassured, “A lot of her ailments will fade with enough rest and stem cell treatments. She just has to last until next week. That’s all.”

“Next week,” Yoongi repeated, no hope in his voice.

With the condition his Guide was in, it would only take one bad zone to kill her. There were six Bangtan members and only one Guide.

Her odds weren’t good.

“I know everything seems really hard right now,” Hoseok said, lips curling up at the edges, “But you might feel a little better once your body isn’t cannibalizing your muscle tissue.”

Yoongi sent Hoseok a look.

And then he really looked at Hoseok.

Hoseok who’d been awake for far too long; Hoseok who’s eyes were twitching, pupils dilating and contracting so quickly his eyes looked like they were flashing. His heart wasn’t fluttering its usual graceful rhythm. It was skipping along, clumsy. Tired.

Suddenly, any and all concern Yoongi felt for his Guide dimmed.

Hoseok was his primary concern.

His husbands would always be his first priority.

Guides were a duty that Yoongi tried to do right by.

But his spouses? Hoseok?

Yoongi wouldn’t tolerate even a yawn from his husbands, if he could help it.

“Is she okay to be left alone?” Yoongi questioned, nodding towards the curtain, behind which was Yoongi’s barely-breathing Guide.

“She’s stable, but, don’t worry, I’ll watch over her.”

Yoongi shook his head, reaching out to hold Hoseok’s hand, “If she’s stable, then hand her off to a nurse. You need to rest.”

“She needs to be monitored-”

Yoongi squeezed Hoseok’s hand, “You cared for her. She’s stable, and even if she weren’t, I’m sure you did all you could do. Watching her vitals is below your pay-grade.”

“She’s your Guide, she deserves my attention.”

“She most definitely doesn’t need the personal attention of the Crown’s Head of Medicine, right now.”

“I’m not that tired-”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, Hoseok.”

“Well, that’s funny, because you aren’t even qualified to offer a medical opinion.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

Hoseok got like this sometimes. Guilt eating up at him, making it impossible to rest, making him feel pathetic for wanting to take a break. Hoseok still wasn’t entirely over the death of his latest Guide.

Though he never mentioned it, Yoongi knew Hoseok was still grieving.

That was fine.

What was not fine, was Hoseok attempting to punish himself through pushing himself to the limit in the name of a Guide.

Especially a Guide already on death’s door, Yoongi thought darkly, eyes flicking at the medical curtain.

Hoseok needed rest.

And a bitter, wretched part of Yoongi briefly considered snapping the woman’s neck right now, if it meant that Hoseok wouldn’t be so preoccupied with someone else’s health instead of his own.

“Yoongi,” a pout, really, his tone soft, no longer confrontational. He knew Yoongi was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“You’re going drink a smoothie, fix me an IV, and then we’re both going to sleep until next Saturday,” Yoongi said, sternly, “That might not be a qualified medical opinion, but it is an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Hoseok said, voice low.

Hoseok and Yoongi were close enough in age that they didn’t often adhere to the official structure of command. But, on rare occasion, Yoongi did exert his superiority. Hoseok may not be his youngest bondmate, but Yoongi had no qualms about ordering him around when necessary.

“Good,” Yoongi sighed, looking around, before catching the eye of a nearby nurse, “You. Please watch over my Guide for me. She’s in a very vulnerable state, and I want to make sure she’s taken care of.”

“Of course, General Min,” the nurse ducked her head, before slipping behind the curtain and out of view.

“There,” Yoongi sighed, looking at Hoseok, “She’ll be monitored well. Now, come, it’s time for bed.”

“Okay,” Hoseok answered, letting Yoongi lead him out of the med-bay.

Yoongi would check up on his Guide later.

Or maybe he wouldn’t.

She was probably going to die in the next few days, anyway; better to look after Hoseok, prepare him for her inevitable death, than put effort into a lost cause.

—

Namjoon exhaled, shoulders straight, arms behind his back, as he waited for Lord and Lady Urin to appear.

Seokjin stood behind him, an unwavering reassuring presence.

“Breathe, Namjoon,” Seokjin murmured, voice low and reassuring.

“I’m trying.”

“You aren’t,” Seokjin said, stating it like an undeniable fact, “Start to.”

“Yes, sir.”

Namjoon took a deep breath, slow and mindful, before slowly exhaling. He felt all the stress leave his body, swept away with his breath.

“Good,” Seokjin whispered, making warm butterflies flutter in Namjoon’s stomach, “At attention.”

Not even questioning the order, Namjoon straightened his back, just in time to the the Lord and Lady round the corner.

Namjoon wasn’t sure how he could have missed their footsteps, which sounded thunderous now that he was paying attention.

He must have been- really stressed.

No wonder Seokjin had been worried.

Namjoon shook it off, rolling his shoulders once.

He really didn’t like paying condolences.

Well, that didn’t sound quite right. Namjoon had absolutely no qualms with paying his Guides the respect they deserved.

Namjoon didn’t enjoy meeting their families.

It was such a revolting experience that Namjoon refused to let any of his younger mates attend. Ever.

Yoongi and Hoseok only attended mourning and remembrance events related to their own Guides.

Otherwise it was just Namjoon and Seokjin, swallowing back their disgust as-

“General Kim and General Kim Namjoon! Welcome to our home!” Lord and Lady Urin greeted warm smiles on their faces as they bowed, “How was your journey?”

They looked at him eagerly, covered in freshly applied perfume that burned Namjoon’s nose, and new jewelry, that still had that perfect jeweler’s polish. Their old studs glimmered in their ears, silver metal backing switched to gold to indicate their retired status. The Lady had made it to Corporal in the Eastern Fleet, a moderately new territory, making it a fleet requiring competent soldiers to defend the recently drawn borders; the Lord, however, retired a captain in the Way fleet, an entirely domestic division, where useless Sentinels grew old and fat.

“Well, thank you. And please, just Kim is fine,” Namjoon reassured, trying to seem amicable, humble.

“Oh, no. It doesn’t seem proper to address you without a title,” Lord Urin shook his head, deference very clear in his voice, “Perhaps Senator Kim? Would you prefer that?”

The Lord’s eyes were very clearly glued to the array of military medals on Namjoon’s chest.

Namjoon winced, leaning away from the happily approaching couple. This was exactly what he despised about these visits.

Their daughter was dead.

And all they seemed to care about was making a good impression on General Kim Namjoon.

Seokjin stepped forward, taking charge of the conversation.

“Seokjin and Namjoon is fine. We’re here to discuss the passing of your daughter. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Seokjin said, voice smooth, respectful, perfect, “It’s tradition to discuss reparations and any requests she might have made of us. We understand this must be a very difficult time for you, and we wish to be as accommodating as possible.”

Namjoon never understood how Seokjin was capable of being so tactful, even under such warped circ*mstances. His words always seemed to get rounder, noble accent laying like silk over his voice.

“Yes. It was such an honor she was able to serve you.” Lady Urin shook her head, looking down at the ground in a moment of grievance. “She truly left us too young. She had always been ambitious, though, and I’m sure she was so proud to be able to reach a position of such prestige. Truly supporting General Kim is the best a Guide can ask for, after all.”

And then she raised her head, offering Namjoon and Seokjin a warm, polite, ugly smile, as she tugged on her husband’s arm.

“Dear, why don’t you call Kerra?” Lady Urin looked at the Sentinels, “She’s a Guide, and her skills are very promising. I’m sure you’ll find her worthy of your companionship. She’s fifteen, but she’s already being scouted by the Crown and other noble families. Though, I will admit that it’s no house as prestigious as the Kims.”

Namjoon shivered, feeling venom pool under his tongue.

She’s only fifteen.

The woman wanted to sacrifice her fifteen year old child to the same people who killed her eldest child.

Because of honor.

Because serving Bangtan was an honor.

Because Guides were only valuable when being owned by a Sentinel, and what better Sentinel than a Kim.

Namjoon’s eyes fluttered shut, allowing Seokjin to take command of the conversation, as self-loathing flooded his body.

Sometimes-

Sometimes Namjoon really hated himself.

Chapter 9: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The main auditorium was an intimidatingly large cavern, perfectly constructed for proper acoustics. The chairs were shaped so that students’ blaster pistols didn’t dig into their hips, and the doors were layered with blaster-proof plating to protect the Academy’s prestigious visiting speakers.

Though, today, the speakers really didn’t need anyone else’s protection.

Bangtan was far more capable of protecting themselves than a series of Kelvite locks.

Jungkook couldn’t see them, but he knew they were here. They were close. He could feel the lost pieces of his mind, vague but familiar. Streams of consciousness that though not directly his own, felt too much like kin to be anything else but a derivative of him.

They’re here. They’re here.

Jungkook’s leg bounced, up, down, up, down, up, down, before stopping- Baekhyun’s hand was pressing down firmly on Jungkook’s thigh.

“Stop it,” his friend hissed.

Jungkook frowned, keeping his voice low, even though it wouldn’t protect his words from the Sentinels in the room.

“Am I bothering you?”

“Yes.”

“Deal with it.”

Baekhyun was a null, after all. The tapping of Jungkook’s foot wasn’t going to make him zone- it was just a nuisance, and Baekhyun was adult enough to deal with nuisances.

No, this was a big day for Jungkook.

He had a right to be nervous, and he most definitely had the right to bounce his foot.

He was going to introduce himself to Bangtan today.

Part of him was excited. Of course he was excited. He’s been pining for these six Sentinels for years. They’d been his motivation, his inspiration, his reason for waking up in the morning.

But part of him- was incredibly wary. Nervous. Jungkook had thought he’d have four years to mold himself into something perfect, into something worthy. Jungkook was still just a junior, just three years, and he couldn’t help but feel unfinished painting. An engine missing several pieces. An unassembled blaster.

Jungkook wasn’t done yet.

He hadn’t accomplished everything he’d told himself that he would.

Of course, Jungkook was excited to see Bangtan. It was incredibly lucky to see them a year earlier than he had expected.

But Jungkook would have been happy to wait another year- or five- if the wait would guarantee that Jungkook would become Bangtan’s Guide.

Jungkook was willing to wait.

He wasn’t, however, willing to fail.

And moving up their meeting only increased the chances of the latter.

—

The Dean walked onto the stage. Her gold medals glinting brightly under the stage lights and against the dark backdrop of her black uniform.

The auditorium of Cadets all stood up from their seats, sharp and in-sync, as they moved their hands behind their backs and straightened their shoulders.

The Dean was silent. She ignored them as she stood behind the podium, adjusting the mic, and adjusting the files in her hands. And then, when she was ready, she looked up at her students.

“At ease.”

In a fluid wave of motion, the students sat back in their chairs.

“Due the unfortunate passing of Lieutenant Generals Yang, Heren, Berkley, Jeris, and Keuel, Bangtan are in need of guides sooner than expected. As such, we’ll be holding interviews today, rather than during Graduation, as is traditional. As always, we thank Bangtan for this honor, and are incredibly grateful that they trust us with such an important task.”

The Dean’s typically brisk voice was full of reverence and respect. It wasn’t warm. Her voice didn’t get warm. But it was softer, meeker.

She was in the presence of her betters, and she knew it.

It made Jungkook smile.

“You will all offer Bangtan the utmost respect, refusal to do so will result in harsh reprimand. Guides will wait here, silent and patient, as Bangtan conducts interviews at their leisure. Nulls and Sentinels aren’t required; your classes will continue as scheduled. Dismissed. ”

Baekhyun frowned.

His hand squeezed Jungkook’s thigh.

The other students stood up fluidly at the order, filing towards the stairs, and Baekhyun was creating a scene by not moving.

Jungkook stayed silent, allowing his friend the moment.

He knew Baekhyun was scared.

“Be safe,” his friend ordered.

Jungkook nodded.

Baekhyun exhaled, giving Jungkook a final look, before finally standing up.

The Dean’s eyes were on Baekhyun, following him out the door with a set expression, and Jungkook knew his friend would be receiving a whipping.

When the last non-Guide Cadet had left the auditorium, and the doors had been re-locked, the Dean nodded. “We will now begin. I’d like to remind you that being chosen by Bangtan is an honor-”

Click.

A shiny black leather loafer stepped out from behind the curtain, strong calf, thick thigh, white slacks, leading up to a narrow waist, hidden behind layers of elaborate silver fabric and military medals.

Kim Namjoon.

Politician. Sentinel. Personal servant of the Terran Princess. General to the Terran Army. Head strategist for COAL’s peace troops. Mate and Leader of Bangtan.

The man Jungkook was desperately infatuated with.

The man stepped out from behind the curtain, walking towards the Dean with a mild frown on his face.

The Dean stopped mid-sentence, turning away from her students to stand at attention towards her superior officer.

“General Kim?”

“I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

Namjoon’s voice was low, barely caught by the microphone.

Jungkook may not have extra-sensitive senses, but that didn’t stop a shiver from racing down his spine at the sound of Namjoon’s voice.

It was the most attractive combination of commanding and gravel.

Jungkook had woken up to that voice every day for the past three damn years, and yet, it still didn’t prepare Jungkook for how it sounded in person.

I’ll take it from here, thank you

I’ll take it from here, thank you

I’ll take it from here, thank you

The words bounced around in Jungkook’s head, the closest thing to a zone that he could experience as a Guide.

Jungkook’s eyes had closed, as if he was trying to savor the feeling of Namjoon’s voice echoing in his mind, getting fainter with every repetition as the feeling faded.

Then, Jungkook finally opened his eyes and looked at the man.

General Kim Namjoon of Bangtan. Just there. On the stage.

Jungkook felt himself fall in love.

A sudden, quick tumble into a ditch that he’d been digging for years.

Jungkook loved Namjoon.

Jungkook could see a tiny star glittering in a black hole.

Namjoon’s aura was a warm natural green, branching outwards as if trying to reach the sun. But in it’s center- was a dark, inescapable black hole that silhouetted Namjoon’s figure. And there, hovering right next to one of the man’s hiding dimples, was a little piece of Jungkook's’ aura. Just a single, tiny glittering star.

That was Jungkook.

Namjoon was walking around with a piece of Jungkook, and Jungkook loved him.

Jungkook’s eyes watered, overcome with emotion, and it made him sniffle.

It was just a drop or two of salt water and a soft sound, but it was enough to capture the attention of the Bangtan Sentinel.

Namjoon’s head turned away from the Dean, and stared directly at Jungkook. Not at the crowd of Cadets, but at just Jungkook. Namjoon’s intelligent eyes narrowed, dark, and Jungkook flinched at the sudden eye-contact.

Namjoon stared at him for a moment. Two.

Jungkook stared back, eyes wet, reaction time slow, innocently staring at the love of his life.

The Sentinel’s lips tilted further into a frown, before he looked away, towards the general crowd.

Jungkook just blinked.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Jungkook didn’t have any thoughts.

He was just staring at Namjoon.

Like an idiot.

Though the videos and speeches and legislation hadn’t done Namjoon justice, they certainly did depict an accurate likeness, if not nearly as impactful.

Namjoon was a clear and strong authoritarian figure. He commanded attention. Not because of his seven-foot figure or his expensive clothing or his numerous military medals glinting on his chest.

It was his posture. The way his chin was raised, the way his shoulders were held. Yes, it was technically the standard ‘at attention’ position, but it looked different when Namjoon did it.

It didn’t look like a subordinate presenting.

It looked like a dictator standing tall in front of his subservients.

Namjoon held himself like a supreme leader of a planet.

With that same unwavering, unmovable presence- it made Jungkook melt.

Jungkook would give him a planet. Namjoon deserved a planet.

Jungkook would give him anything.

Another tear slipped down his cheek.

“Good morning,” Namjoon greeted. His voice was firm. Not harsh, not hard. It was polite, but there was something about it. There was something there that just commanded respect; the confidence in his voice or perhaps that was intelligence or perhaps it was just Namjoon.

“I apologize for being an unexpected intrusion on your day’s schedules. This might take a few hours, it might take several. You aren’t allowed to leave the auditorium until we’ve met with you. However, feel free to relax and use this time productively. If you have any questions, please direct them to my subordinates, as they all out-rank your faculty,” Namjoon nodded towards the soldiers guards the exits, dressed in a light grey, Bangtan’s symbol worn proudly on their chest.

“Thank you for your cooperation. It allows us keep the Confederacy a strong defender of good Terran values.”

And then, Namjoon nodded at the Dean, before turning sharply on his heel, walking off the stage, hands clasped behind his back, looking every bit of the General he was.

Jungkook’s face felt wet.

But he wasn’t sure if that was from the tears, or if he had also started drooling.

—

The tugging feeling that Jungkook had been feeling in his temples, slowly dissipated, meaning that Bangtan was moving away.

The feeling entirely disappeared.

And then a couple minutes later, one Bangtan’s soldiers, wearing a light grey, moved away from the entrance, striding up the stairs to the stage and leaning into the microphone.

“Cadet Luca Ferid, please follow Lieutenant Sokka out to the left,” the Lieutenant said, voice monotone.

Jungkook watched as a woman- a senior by her uniform- stood up, brushing out the wrinkles in her uniform, as she walked towards the designated soldier on the left.

She was clearly excited, smile on her face.

Jungkook could understand the sentiment.

However, he, at the same time, very much wanted to rip that smile off her face.

Those were his Sentinels that she was going to go guide.

She ought to know that nothing was going to come of it. They were Jungkook’s. They couldn’t be more Jungkook’s, even if they tattooed ‘Jeon’ across their foreheads.

Jungkook flexed and unflexed his fingers trying to remain calm.

It was difficult to do.

He was a bundle of nerves.

This was the biggest day of his life.

And, f*ck, he was nervous.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

The top ten students were chosen first. But, as Jungkook’s guiding skills were considered mediocre at best-

by a rubric, he was considered mediocre by a rubric written by a Professor that has likely never been on a battlefield in his life

Jungkook fisted the fabric of his slacks

Jungkook has never left a Sentinel in a zone.

He has never failed a Sentinel.

He’s given them psychotic breaks, sure, but he’s never failed.

But the one damn thing stopping Jungkook from being the first Guide to meet Bangtan is a stupid f*cking rubric-

Jungkook exhaled. Loudly.

People turned his way.

But that didn’t matter.

No one here mattered.

Breathe in.

Breath out.

The top ten students were chosen first. But, as Jungkook’s guiding skills were considered mediocre at best, and the Dean wasn’t prone to doing him favors, they likely wouldn’t include him in the pile, even if he was the likely valedictorian.

After the top ten, they go through all the remaining students in alphabetical order.

Which meant that Cadet Jeon Jungkook was going to be here for a while.

Each interview took at least ten minutes.

Known for being polite and courteous during these sessions, Bangtan speak to the Cadet for several minutes. Then one of the Bangtan Sentinels zone, and the Cadet attempts to pull them out of it.

Most likely- The Cadet fails entirely, and a more experienced Guide has to pull the Sentinel out of the zone.

Likely- The Cadet succeeds but does it poorly. Takes far too long, causes too much collateral damage, gives Bangtan a splitting headache. The Cadet clearly can’t do this on a battlefield for a year.

Unlikely- The Cadet succeeds and does it well. They’re a strong Guide, but they aren’t a great match for any of the Sentinels, and wouldn’t be able to bond as tightly to any of the Sentinels as would be desired.

Rare- The Cadet succeeds. They’re strong and capable. Their aura matches well with one of the Bangtan Sentinels. They’d be good support on the battlefield, and would be capable of doing so for a year.

Impossible- The Cadet is a perfect match for all seven.

Jungkook was impossible.

And he had to wait to prove it.

—

Chapter 10: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Chapter 8:

Jungkook’s foot had started bouncing again.

He was nervous. That feeling was valid. He didn’t feel the need to stop himself.

He watched as Cadet after Cadet came back from guiding Bangtan, all of them either stumbling from exhaustion or slumping from humiliation.

Good.

His knee continued to bounce.

“Hey, Jeon,” a voice behind him called.

Jungkook didn’t turn around. Werrick was irrelevant, not worth the energy.

“No need to be so nervous, Jeon,” Werrick taunted from behind him, “They only pick good guides. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Good guides? Then I guess you don’t have anything to worry about, either. What’s your Guide rank again? Two-hundred something?,” Jungkook sniped.

He didn’t mind being insulted. Usually, it would just roll off his back. He knew he was the best. He didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.

But today, Bangtan was here. Bangtan, with their super-human hearing, who could very much hear this conversation.

Jungkook didn’t need anything else biasing them against him.

“At least I’m not a psycho,” Werrick muttered, falling back into his seat.

“You’re also in the bottom twenty-five percent in the general rankings. If we’re counting your short-comings. You also don’t know how to style your hair, or pick out a proper face wash. You-”

“Yeah, yeah, f*ck you,” Werrick interrupted, voice muffled from embarrassment.

That’s what I thought.

Jungkook settled back into his seat with a bit of smugness to his smile.

—

Jungkook’s eyes eventually fluttered closed. The anxiety rucked up from his impending meeting with Bangtan had finally tired him out, and Jungkook leaned his head on his shoulder with a yawn, letting his eyes drift close.

Jungkook day-dreamed for the next hour or two.

—

“Cadet Jeon Jungkook,” one of Bangtan’s subordinates, Lieutenant, spoke into the mike.

Jungkook’s eyes opened with a start.

Without hesitation, Jungkook rose from his chair, briefly patting his pocket to make sure he had his tablet and ID, before exiting the aisle and walking down the stairs towards the other Lieutenant waiting for him by the door.

Jungkook exhaled.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

His limbs were jittery. He felt jittery. But that was okay. It was valid.

Besides, there were no Sentinels in the auditorium to hear his pounding heartbeat or see his twitching fingers.

If the Lieutenant leading him out the door was a Sentinel, he still, politely, didn’t mention it.

This was it.

All the work, all the practice, all the dreaming, and waiting and pining and hurting-

It all led up to this.

This was Jungkook’s chance.

He wasn’t going to squander it.

Chapter 11: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Chapter 9:

Jimin stretched out, arching his back as he lifted his arms above his head. Yoongi looked down at him with a disapproving set to his lips. “Having fun?”

Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jimin had all been sitting side-by-side on the comfortable couch, but after a couple hours of that, Jimin had gotten tired of sitting properly. He had laid down instead, pillowing his head on Yoongi’s lap, and toeing off his loafers to rest his socked feet on Seokjin’s lap.

There was not much of a need for him to maintain propriety in front of barely-hatched cadets twenty years Jimin’s junior.

Jimin hummed, lips twitching into a smile, as he wriggled, adjusting himself to be more comfortable.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Yoongi trailed, clearly not a fan of Jimin’s behavior.

“Let the little one have his fun,” Seokjin told him, as he gently massaged Jimin’s feet, “He’s being so good for us, isn’t he?”

Jimin nodded, capitalizing on the inch Seokjin gave him and running for a mile, as he pouted, giving Yoongi a pathetic look. “Yeah, hyung. I’ve zoned like thirty times now. I’m tired,” he whined, rounding out the syllables in a childish way.

Yoongi looked at Jimin.

He didn’t take Jimin’s words at face value- he knew better than that. However, he did take stock of Jimin’s mental state through their bond.

And after seeing how turbulent Jimin’s aura was- Yoongi immediately let off.

“It’s been ten times, at most,” Yoongi muttered, but despite his words, he didn’t give Jimin any further instruction to sit up properly, instead soothingly running his hands through the youngest Sentinel’s platinum blonde hair.

Jimin zoned the easiest, but he also bonded to Guides the deepest. Something that came from his young age.

He’d grow out of it.

But for now, Yoongi was very aware of Jimin’s small sense of abandonment that had grown over the afternoon, even from Guides leaving him after five minute sessions.

The vivid emotions dulled after a lifetime of having bonds break- Yoongi couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything more than a strong sense of duty towards a Guide- but Jimin was still a young one.

Yoongi looked over at Taehyung, their youngest. Taehyung was still young enough that he believed in the impossible. His eyes were wide and alert, eagerly waiting for the next Guide to walk in, still containing the hope that the next one would the one.

Taehyung still thought he had a one.

Yoongi hoped his mate lost the delusion sooner, rather than later. The sooner he shed the hope, the less it’d hurt.

Yoongi sighed, looking back down at Jimin with a soft smile, “Rest for a while. I’ll do the next few.”

“No, that’s not fair- your migraines-”

“What do we say when I give you an order, Jimin?”

The young Sentinel blinked, and then sighed, slumping in defeat, “Yes, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, “Good boy.”

—

A soldier in grey opened the door, and the one Jungkook was trailing behind, walked through it, taking several steps before stopping in the middle of the room.

Jungkook was quick to follow, copying the soldier’s pose just one step behind and to the left of him.

He kept his eyes trained on the toes of his own shoes.

He wouldn’t dare look up until he was acknowledged.

The Sentinels, without a doubt, knew he was here. His entrance would have been obvious to a null with the creaking door and two sets of heavy footsteps; the hypersensitive Sentinels could probably hear his eyelids flutter.

He tried to keep his breaths even, but he was unable to reign in his racing heartbeat. His anxiety- the one he had managed to control all afternoon- reared it’s head.

God, he’s never felt so nauseous before.

“I still don’t understand how you like that. It hurts so much when he does it to me.” That was Taehyung’s voice. Jungkook would recognize it anywhere.

“The scalp scratches?” Jimin’s voice. Jungkook would also recognize it anywhere.

“Yes. Like, all of my hair follicles burn from the abrasion. It lights my nerves up.” Taehyung.

“You’re just thirty nine. It takes time to build up insensitivity.” Jimin. He sounded reassuring. Jungkook had only ever heard his charismatic voice speak factually, presenting research- this was a novel experience and Jungkook treasured every syllable.

“You’re only a couple years older than me, Jimin.”

“Also, you’re still mostly human, hm? Humans have sensitive scalps.” Seokjin. “Jimin has enough Ursa in him that his epidermis can take a bit more of a beating. His pain receptors are a little deeper than yours are.”

“I guess.” Taehyung.

Silence.

Jungkook continued to stare down at his shoes, realizing that he hadn’t polished them. His reflection dully reflected back at him.

Stupid. He had ample time to polish them in the auditorium. There was absolutely no excuse for not doing so.

He bit his lip, as his nervous twitching got more pronounced in the silence.

“What’s the name?” Namjoon’s voice. Not directed at Jungkook.

“Third year, Cadet Jeon Jungkook, sir.”

“At ease, Cadet Jeon.”

Namjoon still addressed Jungkook with respect, typically, lower ranked officers were only addressed by their last name.

Jungkook blinked, warily lifting his head up to look at them.

At Bangtan.

All six of them, dressed in silvery white, looking so beautiful. Jungkook has seen them in his screens for so long; he thought he knew how every single inch of them looked like- but seeing them in person made him realize how very inaccurate that was.

Screens couldn’t capture the way their confident auras seemed to glow like a halo around them, bright and unmissable, even when you weren’t actively trying to look at them.

Their heights, not all of them were seven feet, but they all looked so much larger in real life. So much, more.

The weight of their eyes, the strength of their posture, the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders-

All things that Jungkook was realizing anew as he looked upon his mates.

Seokjin and Yoongi didn’t even look his way, looking down at Jimin sprawled across their laps, while Jimin basked in the attention, keeping his eyes closed.

Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon, however, were looking his way, and Jungkook wanted to melt under their gazes. Taehyung and Hoseok were looking at him with some degree of curiosity.

Hoseok glanced down at the tablet in his lap, likely pulling up Jungkook’s records. Taehyung’s eyes kept tracing up and down his figure, in way that made Jungkook feel incredibly bare.

Namjoon, however- Namjoon was frowning.

“Your heart rate is erratic, Cadet. Do you have a heart condition?” Namjoon’s voice was calm, edging on polite, but there was a sharpness to his gaze.

“No, sir,” Jungkook answered, immediate, mortified Namjoon felt the need to ask him that.

“I’d like you to take a moment to contemplate your answer, Cadet. Having a heart condition would immediately disqualify you from this interview. You’d be exempt from ever being called upon by the Crown for your services.” Namjoon paused, giving Jungkook a firm look. “Are you quite certain you don’t have heart condition?”

Oh, Jungkook realized.

Namjoon was trying to give him a way out. He had seen Jungkook crying in the auditorium; he was trying to excuse Jungkook from the fate that had supposedly brought him to tears.

How considerate.

How very humiliating Namjoon thought that Jungkook would dare to show weakness in such a public and pathetic way.

Jeon Jungkook hadn’t worked this hard for this long for General Kim Namjoon, the love of his f*cking life, to doubt him.

This was, quite frankly, unacceptable.

Jungkook could feel his incredulity begin to calm his heart.

“Yes, General Kim Namjoon. I don’t have a heart condition.” Jungkook’s words were clipped.

“I could have sworn I heard an arrhythmic heart rate in the auditorium. I was certain it was you,” Namjoon’s voice sharpened, sounding so very similar to the voice that woke Jungkook up every morning.

The familiar tone further relaxed the stress in Jungkook’s chest. He knew Namjoon. He wanted Namjoon. This was fine.

“I’m prone to overreacting when I’m excited, General, perhaps that was what you heard.” Jungkook’s voice didn’t waver an inch.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing Jungkook’s explanation for the tears.

“He sounds fine to me, hyung,” Taehyung said, glancing at Namjoon, confused.

“His med records are clear, too. You’re hundred percent Terran, right?” Hoseok questioned.

Jungkook nodded, swallowing, “Yes, General.”

Hoseok’s eyes caught the movement. “It’s fine. It would be classist for us to discriminate based on that. What we care about if your ability to Guide. If you feel the need for infusions, Taehyung and I’d oversee that personally.”

“Yes, sir.” Jungkook’s cheeks pinkened ever so slightly. The thought of Hoseok and Taehyung personally overseeing Jungkook’s body. Of inspecting every inch of it, and it’s every physiological mechanism, and then changing it to their personal preferences.

Of them tweaking his body, until it was just right, until it was the perfect fit for what they wanted from him. Until every single ion channel in his cells moved at Dr. Jung Hoseok’s and Dr. Kim Taehyung’s will.

“I think he likes the thought of that,” Taehyung hummed, eyes still fixed on areas of Jungkook below Jungkook’s neck, “He’d look good with a little Heidony, don’t you think?”

Jungkook swallowed, again. He wasn’t familiar. “Heidony, General Kim Taehyung?”

“The Heidony are known for their strong skin, an excess of actin junctions and keratin in their skin, and a basal layer containing more fat than than ours. It would make you less vulnerable to wear and tear,” Hoseok answered, offering a clinical answer.

“It also makes it very difficult, if not impossible to maintain muscle definition, no matter how muscular you are.”

Jimin. Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, eyes widening as the utterly beautiful man opened his eyes, glancing Jungkook’s way. His dark eyes were sultry, as his eyes made the same objectifying circuit Taehyung’s had.

“It would give you a body to match that lovely innocent face. Your doe eyes would look so cute with those hollows in your face filled in.”

Jungkook blinked. His face burned with embarrassment, desire, and pride. That was Jimin. The Dr. Park Jimin, renowned astrophysicist, General of Terran forces, Leader of COAL forces, member of Bangtan.

That Park Jimin was objectifying him.

Jungkook was dreaming. He had to be.

There was no way this was happening.

This was a wet dream. Jungkook must be having a wet dream right now.

“General…” Jungkook answered weakly, unsure what the proper response would be.

“Jimin,” Yoongi said, warning, as he ran his hands through Jimin’s hair, “He’s still a Cadet. He deserves some amount of respect. Not much, but more than this.”

“He’s pretty, though,” Jimin cooed, sitting up, looking at Jungkook with dark eyes, “Pretty enough to Guide any noble in the capital. Any Senator with even a drop of good taste would just snatch you up, wouldn’t they? I bet you were popular; how many Sentinels used to call on you when you were in the Crown’s care?”

Jungkook had only seen a professional Jimin. The one that presented his research with measured words and half-genuine smiles as he crisply listed statistics too large for the average person to comprehend.

He’d never seen Jimin like this.

Flirtatious.

Arguably lecherous, even.

Taehyung nodded, offering his silent agreement.

Yoongi clucked his tongue, a sharp chiding sound.

Jungkook watched with wide eyes, as it made Jimin deflate ever so slightly, submissive as he listened to Yoongi’s non-verbal chiding. The sexual undertone to Jimin’s expression faded into something a tad more petulant.

Yoongi was one of the more private members of Bangtan. Jungkook rarely ever saw him, unless if it was an important event for the Crown or if it was on the battlefield. Jungkook usually saw him passive-faced, disinterested in his surroundings.

So it was an entirely novel experience to see a chiding frown on his lips, to watch him assert dominance over Jimin.

Jungkook bit his lip, trying his best not to react to the very attractive way Yoongi was acting. He wasn’t succeeding very well at all.

His low, raspy voice seemed to pool between Jungkook’s ears, making a home there.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whined, but re-settled his head in Yoongi’s lap.

“Don’t be a brat, Jimin. We haven’t even introduced ourselves, and you’re already undressing him. It’s whorish behavior.”

“I’m not a whor*,” Jimin pouted, as he cuddled further into Yoongi’s lap.

“Then shut up,” Yoongi murmured, firm, dominant, before he looked up at Jungkook. Jungkook’s breath hitched at being pinned under the heavy gaze. “I apologize for my husband’s behavior. They are usually better behaved.”

“Accepted, General Min,” Jungkook said, weakly, heart stuttering in his chest.

Namjoon was staring at him, again; the disapproval clear in his eyes. He still didn’t think Jungkook wanted to be here, and the Guide wasn’t sure how to convince him of the opposite, let alone how to gather the courage to do so right now, in front of him.

“It says here you’re the best Guide in your class. In the general rankings anyway. Your Guide rank is abysmal,” Hoseok said, eyes flicking up from the tablet to confirm the information, before looking back down at the screen.

“Yes, sir.”

“Abysmal?” Namjoon questioned, glancing at Hoseok.

“I think being two-hundred and sixty-seventh puts him at the complete bottom of his Guiding class. Generally though he’s thirty-second,” Hoseok said.

“Abysmal, indeed,” Namjoon said, turning towards Jungkook. Namjoon’s dark eyes bore into him. “Why such a discrepancy?”

Jungkook blinked. Mortified burned a blush onto his skin. His tongue felt numb, as he attempted to speak.

“Only one of those rankings is objective.” Jungkook’s voice was soft.

It was so so embarrassing how quickly all of his resolve melted as soon as Namjoon’s glare set upon him.

Jungkook was certain this wasn’t even the full extent of it.

Jungkook was a young Cadet, cute in the face, and a guide. He had several factors endearing him, even casually, to Namjoon.

It was almost certain Namjoon’s gaze could get much worse.

Jungkook felt a drop of pity for the political opponents and COAL enemies Namjoon faced; Jungkook couldn’t imagine the sheer weight of Namjoon’s full glare, how absolutely decimating it must be.

If there was any doubt, Jungkook now completely understood why Namjoon was Bangtan’s leader. Just a look from him must have people racing to fall back in line.

“I’d think all of Vierna’s rankings are objective. Some of the biggest military decisions are made based on those rankings,” Hoseok said, staring at him.

Jungkook didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m sure an ungraduated Guide wouldn’t be questioning Vierna’s esteemed judgement,” Seokjin said, voice smooth, as he gave Jungkook an out, “His tongue must have slipped.”

“Thank you, General.”

A beat of silence.

“Cadet Jeon, I’m certain you’re anxious to get to the end of this interview. We also have many more Cadets to see by the end of the day, and I get tired very early in the evenings. Would you mind terribly if we moved forward to the Guiding portion of the interview?”

Seokjin. Sweet-voiced, dripped with concern. Tender and comforting in a way that had Jungkook’s watery eyes drying.

Jungkook looked up, eyes meeting with Seokjin’s.

Seokjin’s eyes were warm, crinkled ever so sightly in a moderate smile that had Jungkook’s shoulders relaxing.

His posture was straight, polite, in the way everyone else’s weren’t. He was the first to actually address Jungkook by his title.

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat.

He’d seen Seokjin on so many red carpets.

None of them had done his beauty justice. There was a marble-like perfection to his features, and inhuman ethereal grace in his movements that could most certainly be accredited to the numerous alien traits sprawling his genome.

It was the sort of thing cameras still couldn’t quite capture.

“Yes, General Seokjin, I don’t mind.”

Seokjin gave him a larger smile, eyes actually crinkling, as he nodded. The sight of it filled Jungkook with so much pride.

He made Seokjin happy.

He caused that smile.

“Thank you, Cadet Jeon. I’m sure you’ve been told how we bond to our Guides?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We prefer intimate bonds,” Taehyung said, “That would more of a hard expectation, rather than soft suggestion. It’s for your safety.”

If only they knew that they were already partially intimately bonded to Jungkook.

He wondered what their reactions would be.

“I understand, sir.”

“I’m happy to personally show you the joys of intimacy,” Jimin told him, voice dipping into something suggestive, before Yoongi’s hand tightened in his hair and Jimin went silent again.

Yoongi’s expression was impassive as he silenced the Sentinel in his lap.

Seokjin didn’t react to Jimin’s sly comment, keeping his eyes fixed on Jungkook, acting almost regal in his serenity.

“The experience of guiding may be a little more vivid than what you’re used to. Please keep that in mind. Don’t panic, if you feel us become possessive. Some of us are rather young, it’s difficult for them to restrain themselves.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Thank you, Cadet Jeon. Now, do you have a preference? I understand that some Guides feel a personal affinity to some Sentinels over others.” Seokjin’s voice was smooth, as he continued to move the conversation along.

This was true.

Really not much was understood about how Guides worked, since only Guides could really see auras, and their skills were more intrinsic, rather than something they learned how to do.

Not to mention, for the longest time, the professionals in all academics, including those pertaining to Guides, were Sentinels.

But, it was true that some Guides could see that their auras matched better to a specific Sentinel.

That was how Guides found their mates, after all.

However, Jungkook didn’t feel an affinity to one of them.

He felt an affinity for all of them.

His little stars were glittering in all of their auras. They were his soulmates. His perfect fit.

He had dreamed about this moment for years.

And yet, now that it was here, Jungkook wasn’t sure what to say.

He should have taken the time in the auditorium to memorize a speech rather than daydreaming. What had he been thinking?

He could feel the auras of all six Sentinels brushing up against his mind. They took up twice the space a regular Sentinel’s would. All six were distinctive, and yet, undeniably interconnected. The Sentinels were all bonded, and it showed.

Namjoon was a soft pale blue and a few pinks and purples, straight lines that curved ever so slightly, as if it was a collage of hundreds of sunsets.

Yoongi was shades of grey and black, smooth, lazy swirls, glinting in the light, like snakes curling over themselves.

Seokjin was pink, just warm, baby pink, that moved like it was made out of blooming flowers.

Hoseok was yellow, such a bright yellow, it seemed almost white, glinting and reflecting sunshine like metal armor.

Taehyung was dark jewel tones, shimmering like a curtain, moving in an out of focus.

Jimin was a dusky blush color, muted but soft, something about it making it seem plush, like cashmere.

And in the center of everyone’s individual colors were those matching abysses. It was almost cute, how perfectly they all matched each other, how much they must love each other.

Jungkook loved them, too.

He loved them all so much, so much that his heart hurt at the thought.

“I’d like to be considered for all of you, sir,” Jungkook said, forcing the words out of his mouth, despite how desperately they wanted to stay on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s alright. We’ll match you with whoever you fit best with, Cadet Jeon-”

“No. I’d like to the personal Guide for all six members of Bangtan,” Jungkook said firmly, daring to interrupt the Kim Seokjin.

I just did that.

Oh my god, I told him.

Oh my god, I’m going to have a heart attack.

I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it.

Chapter 12: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Namjoon leaned forward, confusion filling his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“I want to bond with all of you.”

Seokjin’s graceful eyebrows furrowed, as his hands shifted in his lap, “I think there’s a disconnect. Are you asking to take an interview with all of us? Because that’s really not necessary, we’ll be able to discern your talents from just one zone.”

Jungkook shook his head, back straightening. “No, General, I mean that I’d like to be bonded, intimately, with all six of you. Six to one.”

Silence.

Namjoon’s mouth opened and then closed again. Yoongi was openly frowning at him. Hoseok’s smile dimmed slightly. The younger ones blinked, owlishly.

“I’m afraid someone’s misled you, Cadet Jeon,” Seokjin said, voice perfectly articulate, vowels sharpening with an unmistakable noble accent, “That is simply not an option.”

“You determine what is an option and what isn’t… General.”

“And this isn’t an option I’m offering you, Cadet Jeon,” Seokjin co*cked his head, “I’m not sure what impression you have of us, but we’d never be so callous with a Guide’s health.”

“It’s not callous, if I can take it, General. I’m asking for the opportunity to prove myself. If I’m dissatisfactory, then you can dismiss me.”

Hoseok clicked the tablet in his lap off, setting it aside, and leaning forward, elbows resting on his thigh, gentle smile on his face. “Cadet Jeon. Most Cadets experience severe acute Guide distress when they Guide us. The chances of you succeeding once are minuscule to begin with. Moreover, Guides can’t bond to more than two Sentinels at once without risking aura hemorrhaging.”

“I won’t do that, General.”

“Yes, you likely won’t be able to Guide one of us, but that’s perfectly fine-”

“No, General, I won’t hemorrhage,” Jungkook said, rudely cutting Hoseok off, “I swear it. Please, forgive me, but, please allow myself the chance to prove myself. Please.”

Interrupting one of the members of Bangtan might as well be a death sentence.

But, watching Bangtan slip out of his grasp- was a worse sentence than death.

“Child,” Namjoon said, voice filled with pity, “Who’s put these ideas in your head? Your worth is not determined by your Guiding ability, much less your Sentinels.”

“I know it’s not, General, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m merely saying that I can-”

“Even if you can, by some absolute fluke of nature, manage to bond to multiple Sentinels ” Yoongi interrupted, voice cutting, “You would not manage to walk afterwards.”

“I would, General.”

“The fatality rate for multi-bonded Guides is 64%,” Hoseok said.

“We don’t mean to limit you. Guides are capable of many things,” Namjoon said, voice empathetic, “But this is just not condonable. I don’t understand who led you to believe that this was an aspirable goal, but they were gravely incorrect.”

“No one led me to believe anything, I want this. I chose this myself, General. You’ll understand if you just give me a chance.”

“You want to self-harm?” Namjoon snapped.

“Namjoon.” Seokjin snapped, flicking his eyes Namjoon’s way.

Namjoon’s mouth shut immediately.

“I apologize for my mate’s outburst. He is prone to overreaction. He’s still young.” Seokjin said, voice soft as he looked at Jungkook.

Jungkook could see Namjoon’s jaw twitch at Seokjin’s words.

But, for some reason, instead of scaring him; the contest in Namjoon’s expression had Jungkook straightening.

Jungkook was used to people not believing in him.

He excelled when people thought he couldn’t.

It didn’t matter if it was a fellow classmate or the love of his life- Jungkook would prove everyone wrong.

Maybe Jungkook’s self-confidence started as the weak scaffold of the desire to be seen by Bangtan, but Jungkook has grown leagues since then.

He knew he was good.

He knew he was the best.

And anyone who thought differently had another f*cking thing coming.

“I want to be your only Guide. I can do it, if you allow me a chance to prove myself,” Jungkook said, “I’m willing to bet, I can out-preform every Guide in the Capital, General.”

“Cadet Jeon…” Seokjin trailed, “I admire your passion. Your ambition is commendable, but it’s so thoroughly misplaced; I can’t in any good conscience allow this interview to continue.”

“What-”

“Oh come on, sir,” Jimin huffed, wriggling in Yoongi’s grip, “He’s begging.”

“Jimin.”

“It’s not polite to say no, when such a pretty boy is asking, sir. I’m curious what he’s so confident about.”

“You think saying ‘sir’ is going to make Seokjin value that boy’s life any less?” Yoongi chided.

“Sir, I wanna try him. Please?” Jimin asked, voice dipping into something overwhelmingly sweet, “Pretty please, sir? He’s got me so curious. It’ll bother me for years, the possibility that he was telling the truth.”

Seokjin paused.

“Just give me one chance, General,” Jungkook begged, lowering his head.

“See? The poor thing’s practically licking your shoes, sir,” Jimin pointed out, “It’s cruel to deny him.”

“It’s cruel to deny you, my darling,” Seokjin sighed, glancing at Yoongi, who frowned.

“Jimin needs a break. He’s tired.”

“‘m not, sir! I promise! I was just being whiny,” Jimin pouted, tugging at Yoongi’s clothes.

“You were lying to me?”

“…Yes,” Jimin said weakly.

Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head, “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

Yoongi’s tight grip in Jimin’s hair finally loosened, ruffling through Jimin’s platinum blonde hair soothingly once, twice, before finally allowing Jimin to sit up.

“You will get one try with General Park. If I find your efforts in any way inadequate, not only will I dismiss you, but I’ll have you severely punished for insolence. Does that sound fair, Cadet Jeon?”

“Yes, General,” Jungkook nodded, lips twitching as he made eye-contact with Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes roved over Jungkook’s body, as he rolled his powerful shoulders and straightened his spine; he reminded Jungkook of a panther waking up from a nap.

“If you take too long, or are unable to accomplish your task, Lieutenant Kivelan will guide Jimin out of his zone,” Seokjin nodded towards a small, bony woman sitting in a chair at the corner of the room.

She had crutches. Her skin was pale, hollow-looking.

Jungkook hadn’t even noticed her.

Usually Guides are at the center of attention, cuddled, coddled, wearing the brightest jewelry and the most colorful clothing- they were a Sentinel’s pride, after all.

However, looking at her, Jungkook’s raging jealousy could entirely understand why they delegated her to the corner. She was nothing to show off. Nothing to be proud of.

Jungkook was eons prettier than her, never mind how much more capable he was.

He tried to keep the scowl off of his face, but the attempt was half-hearted at best. She was Yoongi’s Guide. Yoongi, according to Jungkook’s extensive research, was an incredibly considerate Sentinel, with limited needs.

If she couldn’t manage that- then truly, she didn’t deserve the gold hoops in her ears.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched with the desire to rip them out of her earlobes.

“Understood, General.”

“At your discretion, then, Jimin.”

Jungkook kept looking at that broken Guide, wondering just what Bangtan saw in her. What made Namjoon respect that decrepit, skeleton of a woman more than Jungkook?

What did she have that Jungkook didn’t?

Jungkook was going to crush her one day. Maybe not physically. Maybe not personally. But he was going to crush her. He was going to outlive her by lifetimes, see corners of the universe she hadn’t even fathomed. He was going to bond to the six men that had almost killed her.

Jungkook was going to do it all-

“Eyes on me, little one. I put in all this effort to satisfy your begging; you better make it worth my while.” Jimin.

Jungkook flinched, heart jumping, as Jimin’s fingers hooked under Jungkook’s chin, turning Jungkook’s gaze away from the other Guide and onto Jimin.

Jimin was only a foot away. He was so close. Jungkook had no idea how he had gotten so close without Jungkook even noticing.

How had he done it?

But that didn’t even matter because Jimin was so close. Jungkook didn’t even dare to breathe.

The love of his life was looking at him, giving Jungkook his full attention- Jungkook couldn’t help but straighten, lips parting ever so slightly, trying to become the prettiest doll he could.

Jimin this close was even more striking.

From far away, he seemed slim, but the distance had been had been disingenuous. Jimin’s shoulders bracketed Jungkook’s with ease. The muscle tone that had seemed slight, was brought into perspective when directly side-by-side with Jungkook’s physique, making Jungkook feel incredibly small in comparison.

His skin was a deep caramel color; thousands of tiny scales overlapping each other, producing a slick shiny surface where there should have been pores.

Jimin was part Calabar, a serpent-like alien species known for being excellent space explorers. The scales were to be expected. Jungkook had also been expecting serpentine pupils, but they were normal Terran circles.

Jungkook wondered if Jimin’s tongue was forked.

He wanted to find out if Jimin was reptilian all over.

“Sorry, General,” Jungkook whispered, overwhelmed at having Jimin so close.

Jimin took a step closer. Their height difference had Jungkook tilting his head up so that he was looking into Jimin’s eyes, instead of directly at his lips.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin murmured, “Even if you’re a bad Guide, I might have to take you to bed, regardless.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

“Beautiful things are meant to be appreciated, aren’t they?” Jimin crooned, as his hands smoothed over Jungkook’s shoulders, sliding down his arms, feeling up his biceps, “A little Guide like you probably doesn’t a proper disciplinarian… I’ll teach you not to mouth off to your betters.”

Jungkook’s heart was racing.

He still hadn’t taken a breath, and his lungs were starting to ache, but Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to inhale and ruin the moment.

“Do not sexually harass the Cadet!” Yoongi snapped, but his voice sounded so far away. Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care about whatever Yoongi had said.

Not when Jimin’s lips were so close to his own.

“He likes it. Am I harassing you, Cadet Jeon?”

“N-no.”

Jungkook’s vision was starting to blur around the edges.

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin smirked.

“G-General.”

“Prove my sirs wrong, hm?” Jimin purred against Jungkook’s lips, “Show me what you can do, little one.”

He kissed Jungkook.

Jungkook’s knees were weak as his lips touched Jimin’s.

Then his knees actually felt weak when there was suddenly a heavy weight in his arms.

Jimin was limp in Jungkook’s arms.

Jungkook inhaled, desperately drawing air as he scrambled to get a good grip on Jimin.

He couldn’t drop him.

He’d never let anything hurt Jimin.

Not even the f*cking ground.

His arms strained with the unexpected weight, until Jungkook managed to get his legs underneath himself properly.

For a moment, Jungkook felt panic; Jimin was almost corpse like in his arms, dead-weight. But his breathing was even, calm.

Jungkook took stock of his aura. It was shivering.

Jimin was fine.

He was zoned.

That was all.

“He’s so dramatic,” Yoongi muttered, caustically.

“Because you spoil him,” Hoseok.

“Because he likes being manhandled.”

Jungkook didn’t focus on their sidebar.

He had a zoned mate to take care of.

Chapter 13: Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Jungkook carefully moved himself from standing to a crouch. Jimin’s weight was a struggle when it had been unexpected, but now, Jungkook found himself capable of maneuvering the 250 pound Sentinel well enough.

Years of weight-training had paid off well enough.

He laid Jimin out on the floor, on his back. Jimin’s beautiful face was smooth, relaxed, a complete foil for the uncontrolled trembling of his aura.

Jungkook knelt beside Jimin’s head, exhaling slowly, smoothing a hand over Jimin’s forehead.

“Do not hurt him,” Yoongi warned.

A tsk.

Jungkook looked up, seeing Namjoon frowning.

A burst of co*ckiness had Jungkook grinning at the man, before he re-focused on Jimin.

“Alright, General Park,” Jungkook whispered, closing his eyes, “Let’s get you out.”

Jungkook’s bondmate was zoning.

Jungkook would guide him.

It was his job, his duty, his f*cking pleasure.

He took a deep calming breath, filling his lungs, and then opened his eyes.

Jimin’s aura was beautiful. Dusky pink and plush. It was shivering like static, from an old television several centuries ago, but even still- it was so gorgeous.

Jungkook reached out one edge of his pitch black aura. He refused to feel self-conscious about how dreary his own aura looked overlapped with Jimin’s. He didn’t even have a minute to consider it, really, before a tiny star within Jimin’s aura was pushing forward.

Pitch black from the center of Jimin’s soul reached forward as Jungkook’s own shadowy aura reached out, together they pierced though the warm pink of Jimin’s aura, meeting, fusing until they were inseparable.

The moment they touched,

Jungkook’s vision shifted-

He was in Jimin’s mind.

Pink. There was so much pink. Warm tones. A golden yellow sky, with two moons offering daylight. The ground was covered in smooth white pebbles.

There was an intangible feeling of affection. It saturated the air. Love. Lust, infatuation, sentiment. They all hung in the air like the sweetest humidity.

Jungkook loved it. Adored it.

In front of him was an amusem*nt park. Blush pink ferris wheels, coral pink rollercoasters, and baby pink carousels, all moved in the distance.

The rides were in motion; there was a sense of rush and motion, even though there was no one there. The park was empty and bustling at the same time. The place seemed to jerk, shuddering slightly, like there was a small, continuous earthquake.

At the very front of it all, guarding all of it, was an iron gate, painted bubblegum pink. The words “Renowned Astrophysicist Park Jimin, Bangtan’s sweetheart” decorated a sign above the gate.

Jungkook wasn’t sure which was more endearing.

The fact that Jimin’s mind was shaped like an old 21th century amusem*nt park.

Or that, at the most fundamental level of Jimin’s mind, he thought of himself as both a renowned astrophysicist and Bangtan’s sweetheart .

His heart was melting.

If Jungkook wasn’t in any rush, he probably would have stared at the gate for ages with a stupid smile.

But he was in a rush.

Jimin was zoning.

Jungkook gently pushed against the gate, relieved when it opened without any issue. He ran through the iron doors, onto the white-pebbled path that seemed to trail through the entire park, looking at the hundreds of rides that sprawled in front of him as far as the eye could see.

This was a physical representation of every single thought Jimin had ever had.

It was endless.

Jungkook had to find Jimin within this labyrinth made amusem*nt park.

He bit his lip, walking forward, wary, as he moved forward, trying to find any hint of where Jimin might be.

And then, incredibly conveniently, Jungkook looked down.

There were pink footprints, seemingly made from some sort of pink paint, marking a trail along the white-stone path.

Jungkook just knew they led to Jimin.

It was a consequence of intimate bonds.

Since a tiny piece of Jungkook’s aura had overlapped with Jimin’s, a part of Jungkook was already a part of Jimin’s mind, was already bonded to Jimin.

And it was that portion of Jimin’s mind, the one that had originally belonged to Jungkook, that was helping him.

Jimin’s mind wanted to help Jungkook find him.

Because Jungkook wanted to find Jimin.

And a part of Jimin was Jungkook.

This typically manifested in “hints” or in this case: pink footprints.

Or at the very least, that was how Jungkook understood it. Guiding classes had never been incredibly clear, neither in detail nor sense.

Jungkook followed the pink footsteps, letting them lead him through the amusem*nt park.

The Guide tried to be swift. Efficient.

However, he couldn’t help occasionally slowing down and reading the titles of rides. Some were far too adorable to ignore, even if Jungkook knew he was going to have a lifetime to appreciate the wonders of Jimin’s mindscape.

He passed by hundreds of rides, dedicated to the galaxy. Layout of the Heypr galaxy, Layout of the Hsan galaxy, Layout of the Pretier galaxy, Layout of the Quantal galaxy, Layout of the Stalat galaxy, Layout of the Movht galaxy…

Ride after ride, explaining the structure of every galaxy in the universe. Jungkook knew that Jimin was intelligent.

But it had taken a backseat in Jungkook’s mind after seeing how f*cking hot he was.

This, though, was a strong reminder: Jimin was a genius astrophysicist. It was said that his navigation skills were more accurate than a navigating AI, and Jungkook could see why.

He kept walking, making sure to read every single ride name as he walked by.

Physical implications of black holes, mechanisms of a supernova, rate of dwarf moon decay,

There was a ride of pale pistachio green teacups circling around of each other; delicate little butterflies fluttered in the air above the spinning teacups. The sound of happy laughter chimed in the air, like the sweetest of bells. The ride was entitled “Day I met Seokjinnie sir <3”.

There was one that was just a plummeting drop. The riders rose up to a dozen floors in the air, and then they were dropped, free falling hundreds of feet before being stopped mere inches from the ground, just barely saved from crashing to death. It looked terrifying. That one was titled: “First time I made Yoongi mad: a mistake.”

There was another ride. A towering rollercoaster. Full of sharp drops and loopy-loops. The cars raced past Jungkook at such speeds that they created a wind that ruffled his hair long after they’d moved past him. That one was intimidatingly entitled “Loosing my virginity to Joonie sir!!!”

Jungkook swallowed, and quickly jogged past that one, not wanting to think about the implications of the ride looking like that.

Seokjin, Yoongi, and Namjoon seemed to have very different ways of making their subordinates behave.

Jungkook kept his eyes trained to the ground after that.

If he saw one more ride involving Jimin and sex, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from getting a boner, and that was honestly the last thing he needed right now.

Jungkook followed the footsteps down another left turn, then a right, and another right, then a left.

And they stopped.

Jungkook looked up.

He was right in front of a carousel. A plain white carousel, unpainted, metal panels unriveted, as if it was still in the process of being built.

It was spinning, though, quickly, too quickly for a carousel.

So it couldn’t be that unfinished either.

Around and around so much that it blurred into a mass of white. Jungkook could just barely make out a flash of Jimin’s platinum blonde hair.

Jungkook looked up at sign hanging above his head. In curvy, retro script read: Jungkook’s doe-eyes.

The Guides heart skipped multiple beats.

Truly he must be dreaming.

Maybe not a wet dream

Maybe just a normal dream.

But he was dreaming.

There was no way the Park Jimin had zoned over Jungkook’s eyes.

There was literally no way.

There was no possible way Jungkook’s eyes had been novel enough to zone over.

And yet:

Yet:

Jungkook was faced with the reality of it.

He stepped forward, waist pressing against the iron fence surrounding the carousel.

“General? Can you hear me?”

No response.

Not surprise.

Sentinels tended to be a little dumb when they zoned. They became largely visual creatures, unable to focus on anything unless it was right in front of them.

They lost their object permanence, essentially. Like toddlers.

Jungkook sighed. He looked down at the gate, fiddling with the clasp for a moment, until the gate swung open.

“General?” Jungkook tried again, knowing he wouldn’t get a response.

The carousel kept spinning. It was so fast that Jungkook knew it would be stupid to try to jump onto it, while it was moving that fast. Jungkook would have better chances of jumping onto a moving bullet train. At least bullet trains moved linearly.

Jungkook needed to get on the carousel to get Jimin to see him, and Jimin needed to see him, so that Jungkook could guide him.

The Guide sighed.

There was an operator’s box. He jogged towards it, reading over all of the controls. There was a level labeled “speed”. Jungkook pulled it all the way down. The lever clicked as it reached its lowest point.

Jungkook glanced at the carousel.

The speed hadn’t changed at all.

That made sense, Jungkook supposed. If this portion of Jimin’s mind was malfunctioning, it could be reasoned that this portion of the amusem*nt park’s mechanisms would also be malfunctioning.

That did mean, however…

Jungkook stared at the carousel, that somehow seemed to be spinning even faster-

He’d have to jump onto that speeding death trap.

Well. If Jungkook had known that this is what guiding Bangtan would have come down to, maybe he would have f*cking practiced pole-vaulting.

The Guide cracked his neck, leaning back.

And then he sprinted, thighs burning as Jungkook tried to create enough momentum that he wouldn’t be immediately flung away by the movement of the carousel.

He jumped, pushing off of the pebbled ground. A second in the air. He crashed into the carousel, feet skidding against the slick floor. He could feel the floor begin to slip underneath him, leaving without him- he was going to be throw out of this thing at a speed fast enough to kill him.

His hands desperately groped forwards; his fingers brushed metal, and Jungkook threw himself forward best he could. It gave just barely enough room to gasp onto the pole. His knuckles were bone-white with the strain.

His left arm burned from the effort of keeping Jungkook attached to the spinning carousel. He grunted, forcing his arm to bend, pulling himself closer until the could hold onto the pole with two hands and hook a leg around it, too.

The position lessened most of the strain, even as the carousel seemed to speed up even more.

The wind alone was brutal. It whipped through his hair. It made it near impossible to see. It burned his skin.

f*ck.

Jimin was clearly preparing for a physical conflict. Guides meant someone forcing Jimin to bend to his will, and this was just Jimin giving Guides a taste of their own medicine. If you’re going to come in here and through punches, Jimin was going to punch back.

It was a protective mechanism from the unwelcome intruder in his head.

Jungkook understood it.

But he still couldn’t help but be a little irritated, considering he only wanted to f*cking talk to the man.

But whatever.

Jungkook could be understanding.

Actually, he could be understanding in most situations, except when he’s holding onto dear life on a hurtling carousel meant to kill him.

In that situation, Jungkook would probably be rather pissed.

But who’s to say, really.

Jungkook peeked an eye open. It burned from the merciless assault of the wind, watering up almost immediately.

But before it did, Jungkook saw a glimpse of blonde hair- Jimin. Jimin was sitting on a plastic horse, side-saddle, seemingly unaffected by the brutal speed whirling him, less then a couple meters away.

“General!” Jungkook called.

No response.

“General Jimin,” Jungkook bellowed, feeling his vocal cords complain from the mistreatment.

The Sentinel seemed to co*ck his head, and then he was turning around on the horse, so that he was straddling it backwards.

Jimin wasn’t effected by the carousel.

Jungkook was sure of it.

Either that, or Jimin had the core and hip abductor strength to maintain that position against the resistance of over eighty miles an hour.

“Jungkook?” Jimin questioned. His voice was soft, but it cut through the white-noise with ease. The best definition of a home court advantage. Jimin had an expression on his face, but Jungkook’s vision was too blurry with tears for him to recognize it.

“General!” Jungkook called, lungs aching with the effort of making his voice louder than the roaring wind, “What are you looking at!”

Jungkook was forced to close his eyes.

Keeping them open hurt too much.

Jimin’s voice was audibly smug, as he spoke. “Jungkook’s eyes are a 2.3 on the Martin color scale, lined by a limbal ring. Microscopic Tyndal scattering. There are 14 visible veins lining his cornea, and six thousand, five hundred forty seven capillaries, all delicately thrumming to the nervous pounding of his heart.”

“General!”

“Jungkook’s eyes are watery, likely from the higher saline ratio in his tears. They shine, reflecting light from the sunshine, the ceiling lights, reflected light from his own medals, and reflected light from my teeth. I’d like to see myself reflected in his eyes, all five hundred forty seven capillaries dilating with pleasure, as I f*ck him.”

Jungkook’s grip nearly slipped on the pole, before he caught himself.

Don’t you dare get an erection right now, Jeon.

Your body is on the floor in front of the rest of Bangtan.

They will see it.

They will see it, if your dick so much as twitches,

Don’t you f*cking dare.

“General Jimin!”

“Yes?”

“My voice!” Jungkook shouted, “Can you hear it?”

“Of course.”

“It doesn’t belong! This for my eyes! Right?” Jungkook strained himself, beginning to feel a little light-headed.

“You’re right. You, all of you, belong across the park. That’s where I keep the memories of interesting strangers.”

Jungkook yelped, feet slipping out from underneath him, as the entire carousel jerked. It lurched, swerving, as if Jimin was trying to fling him in the direction of the correct area with the force of the carousel alone.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, gripping the pole for dear life.

f*ck.

Jungkook could see why Guides died guiding Jimin.

He understood.

Jungkook hadn’t even tried touching Jimin yet.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine trying to manhandle him off of the damned carousel.

It was as good as suicide in Jungkook’s book, and any thought of ever trying it, dissipated into nothing.

“Can you- Can you take me there? I don’t know the way!”

Silence.

Jungkook’s heart pounded.

“Please, General!”

Silence.

Jungkook was going to f*cking die on a carousel.

“General, I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” Jimin’s voice was so clear, sultry and teasing, unaffected by the roaring background noise.

“Yes, General!”

The carousel shuddered, and then it slowed, every so slightly. The wind softened, just a barely noticeable amount.

“I’ll put you in your proper place, if you let me see your eyes when you org*sm. I’m curious how wide those little doe eyes can get. Do we have a deal, little one?”

“Deal!” Jungkook shouted, putting all of his energy into pushing out those syllables.

The carousel jerked to a stop.

The sudden decrease in velocity was worse than the actual barreling of the carousel; it threw Jungkook off. He was weightless in the air for a split second.

He braced himself for impact, ready to roll as much as he could.

But before he could hit the ground, arms wrapped around him. Jimin skidded across the pebbled ground, as he personally absorbed the force at which Jungkook was hurtling.

When they finally slowed to a stop, Jimin smiled down at Jungkook. The Sentinel was crouching, cradling Jungkook in his arms. In front of them were long lines cut into the pebbles from Jimin being forced back.

Safe.

God, Jungkook was off that stupid carousel.

He drew in a shaky breath.

The vertigo he had been pushing down for so long resurfaced in the form of nausea.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It was hard to admit. But that had been scary. Terrifying, really. Jungkook had never felt in danger while helping someone out of a zone. Most zoning Sentinels just wander, like a confused senior citizen or a sleep walking child.

This had been nothing like that.

Nothing at all like that.

And though Jimin had been considerate enough to catch Jungkook, the Guide really wasn’t willing to stay here much longer.

He was out of patience.

Even for the love of his life.

“Cadet Jeon?” Jimin chirped, leaning down to inspect Jungkook, bumping their noses together.

“I’m fine, General,” Jungkook mumbled, stumbling out of Jimin’s arms and onto the ground.

Jungkook had never been so grateful for solid ground before.

“Are you sure?” Jimin questioned, co*cking his head.

Jungkook didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly stood up. His legs were shaky, weak, as if his knees were made of gel. He groaned softly as he straightened up fully.

Jimin’s eyes were trained on him.

Curious.

“General,” he said sharply, pointing towards the Carousel, “Look.”

Jimin turned, eyes flicking towards the carousel, “What?”

But Jungkook was gone, vanishing, sliding out of Jimin’s mind.

Chapter 14: Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Chapter 12:

The Guide opened his actual physical eyes; he was back in the Academy, facing the five Sentinels sitting in front of him, with Jimin laying on the floor.

He was back.

God that was the worst experience of Jungkook’s life.

But even so- even though Jungkook was incredibly relieved to put as much distance as possible between him and the spinning torture device- part of him wished he was back in Jimin’s arms, underneath a golden sky, breathing in the adoration in the air.

“What. The. f*ck.” Jungkook’s voice was soft, full of disbelief.

“I told you this would give him Guide distress,” Namjoon muttered, voice full of irritation.

Jungkook looked up, glaring at Namjoon, because no, he didn’t go through that pink-colored journey to hell to be considered a useless Guide.

“Excuse me, General?” Jungkook questioned, voice just as sharp.

“Kivelan,” Namjoon ordered, nodding her way, “Take care of Jimin.”

“Yes-”

“There is no need to take care of General Park,” Jungkook snapped, “I managed just fine, General Kim.”

A flicker of confusion appeared on all the Sentinels’ faces.

“You managed just fine?” Yoongi repeated, voice gruff, as he looked at Jimin with concern.

“Well, the best I could given the circ*mstances, sir. All due respect, but who in the Crown’s name zones on a carousel, General?” Jungkook said, lips twisting as he defended himself.

Seokjin raised a hand.

Everyone went silent.

“You’ve, at this point in time, pulled Jimin out of his zone?” Seokjin questioned, voice soft, full of warmth.

“Yes, sir.”

“He did,” Jimin hummed, finally taking the initiative to start moving. He arched his back, raising his hands above his head in a lewd stretch.

Jungkook’s eyes immediately fell onto Jimin, hyperfocusing on Jimin’s expressions. This was when most Sentinels started screaming and crying. They remembered how the zone felt and how terrifying it had been to hear Jungkook’s voice as their own thoughts. It was when they painted Jungkook as a villain.

It was the moment of truth.

Jungkook prayed that Jimin wouldn’t find Jungkook’s method of guiding abhorrent.

Jungkook had spent four years on this gamble.

He prayed it would pay off.

“Forgive us for being confused,” Hoseok said, softly, “It’s just very unusual.”

“Why, General?” Jungkook questioned, wary.

He’d understand if Jimin was calling him unusual or worse, even; but there was no way for the other Sentinels to have any idea of what happened, let alone that Jungkook’s method of guiding was unusual.

Seokjin hadn’t seen Jimin’s zone or Jungkook’s guiding, what was there to be confused about?

“It’s been less than a minute. Less than thirty seconds, really,” Hoseok said, frowning, “That’s remarkably fast.”

“Impossible,” Taehyung said, “One could argue.”

Bangtan all looked at Jungkook with various degrees of puzzlement, and Jungkook wanted to do nothing more but fidget under the attention, but he forced himself to stay still.

“Well, the better suited you are. The faster a guide finds a Sentinel,” Yoongi reasoned, eyes narrowing, “I suppose Jeon was just well-suited to Jimin. Though… I could understand why… they both lack any sense of decorum.”

Perfect bondmate. Jungkook wanted to say. It was on the tip of his tongue.

But he didn’t.

Couldn’t.

He wanted to be taken seriously.

He didn’t know how they’d react to the news.

If they’d even believe him.

When- if they chose to bond with him, they’d see it, they’d see all his memories, and they’d know, but until then, Jungkook would swallow his words and wait.

“Sir,” Jimin sighed softly, a blissed smile on his face, “Sir, he’s perfect.”

“Care to elaborate, Jimin?”

The Sentinel’s eyes lazily fluttered open, clear and pleased, as he turned his head to the side, so he can look at the rest of Bangtan without getting up from the floor.

“Sir,” Jimin trailed the word out, almost dreamily, as a stupid smile curled his lips, “He’s mine. I want him.”

Jungkook’s heart skipped at beat at the words. He couldn’t quite believe it. He was so used to Sentinels kicking and screaming at him, trying to get away.

Jimin was doing none of that.

Instead, he seemed to be relishing in the sensation Jungkook had left in his head, the way one lazily enjoyed the warmth of the moments post-org*sm.

“I can see that,” Yoongi said, wryly, “But, I’m asking you to elaborate.”

“That was the easiest zone I’ve ever had. So smooth. I don’t have a headache. Not even a small one. He didn’t tug at me? If that make sense? He just asked me to move, and I did.”

“You like him?” Taehyung questioned.

“I do. He was so gentle,” Jimin sighed, voice soft with affection.

Jungkook looked at the smiling Sentinel; Jimin and him clearly processed the situation incredibly differently.

And while Jungkook was ecstatic Jimin like him, enjoyed him, part of Jungkook couldn’t help but still be a little ticked-

Jimin had almost killed him, after all.

Jungkook couldn’t help but give a little tsk. “I’m glad one of us had fun, General.”

Silence.

And then Jimin was sitting up, pulling Jungkook tight into his arms, running his nose along Jungkook’s hairline- protective. Jimin’s hands were large enough to envelop Jungkook’s entire hipbone, while the other protectively cupped the nape of his neck, leading Jungkook to rest his head on his shoulder- possessive.

“Oh, little one, Jiminie was so mean, huh? I’m so sorry for scaring you, Jungkook. Your Sentinel didn’t mean to scare you,” Jimin cooed softly, rocking Jungkook ever so slightly.

Jungkook blinked.

He froze up in shock.

Jungkook had been expecting a bad reaction, for Jimin to hate him. He’d been hoping for a neutral reaction- where Jimin could begrudgingly advocate for Jungkook’s efficiency.

He had- he had never thought…

He had never thought Jimin would like him.

He had never thought the Park Jimin would like him.

Sentinels tended to get possessive of Guides they liked, not because they found them attractive or funny or compassionate, but because they liked their Guiding style. A good Guide and a good Guiding could feel almost pleasurable, and like a budding addict- Sentinels became very protective of the syringe that could give them their next dose.

The phenomenon was called imprinting.

It had nothing to do with bonding. It was entirely on the Sentinel’s side, and it would fade with time, or when another equally adept Guide pulled that Sentinel out of a zone.

But…

Jungkook had never had a Sentinel imprint on him.

He’d never even had another Sentinel smile at him after Jungkook had guided them.

And yet…

Here Jimin was, cooing at him, apologizing for scaring him, and after the emotional rollercoaster that this entire interview has been-

Jungkook couldn’t help but cry.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He could tell the moment Jimin could smell the saltwater, because he began rocking Jungkook a bit more aggressively.

“I’m so sorry, little one. You’re okay. You’re so perfect, your Sentinel is so sorry. Please don’t cry,” Jimin said, worried- as if the last thing in the world he wanted was for Jungkook to cry.

As if he cared for Jungkook so very much that even the scent of Jungkook’s tears was the most offensive thing Jimin could imagine.

“You liked it, General?” Jungkook sniffled, gripping onto Jimin’s white uniform. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

“I loved it. You’re the best Guide I’ve had,” Jimin promised, pressing his lips to Jungkook’s hair, “Please don’t cry, I’ll give you anything, if you stop crying.”

“A-anything?” Jungkook asked, blinking tears away.

“I’ll give you all the riches you desire, I’ll import off-planet crystal if you want it,” Jimin promised.

Jungkook swallowed.

He got the sense that this was the biggest blank check he’d ever come across.

The way Jimin was looking at him right now.

Jungkook was fairly sure he could ask for a fortune right now, and Jimin would offer it to him.

But, all Jungkook really think about…

“Kiss me?”

“Oh, little one,” Jimin crooned, shifting Jungkook in his arms so that Jungkook was straddling his lap, “You don’t have to ask for that.”

Jimin’s reptilian eyes were crinkled at the edges, happy, besotted as they looked at Jungkook. And though Jungkook wasn’t a Sentinel, wasn’t able to zone, he still couldn’t help but be lost in Jimin’s eyes.

Jimin cupped Jungkook’s cheek, firm and dominating, as he pulled Jungkook closer.

“You can get this whenever you want.”

“Y-yes, General.”

“Call me ‘sir’ or ‘Sentinel’. My Guide doesn’t need to be so formal,” Jimin purred.

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat-

Sir was an intimate term. It was used between direct superiors and their subordinates when they were very close. Mostly though, it was used between bonded Sentinels and Guides.

“S-sir,” Jungkook stuttered, obediently.

“What a good boy,” Jimin purred, kissing Jungkook.

This was Jungkook’s second kiss.

The second kiss Jungkook had ever had.

And it was Jimin’s smooth palm holding his jaw in place, while another palm tangled in his hair. Jungkook’s hands timidly rested on Jimin’s shoulders, bunching in the fabric of Jimin’s uniform, overwhelmed by the feel of Jimin’s lips against his.

Jimin didn’t stop, continuing to press forward, licking at the seam of Jungkook’s lips.

Jungkook whimpered from the overwhelming novelty of the experience, and it was only then that Jimin pulled away.

He was grinning, satisfied, as he looked at Jungkook.

Jungkook preened, heart near bursting with happiness.

“There,” the Sentinel brushed away a forgotten tear, “Now, no more tears, little one. Okay?”

“Okay, sir.”

Jimin’s grin stretched into something sharper- pleased. “Good boy.”

Jimin leaned forward for another kiss, and Jungkook shifted to let him take whatever he wanted-

“Jimin.”

The pair froze.

Oh.

Right.

Jimin and Jungkook had an audience.

Jungkook’s cheeks burned with mortification, as he scrambled to get of the compromising position he was in- Jimin’s arms tightened around him, refusing to let Jungkook move an inch.

He was still possessive, irrationally so.

A kiss wouldn’t make that go away.

“Sir?” Jimin responded, cheeky.

“This isn’t normally like you, so I’ll let it go, but please stop sexually harassing the cadet,” Yoongi chided.

Jungkook curled up, wondering if he could tighten up into a small enough ball that the rest of Bangtan wouldn’t be able to see him.

“He likes it,” Jimin pouted.

“Jiminie, I still don’t understand,” Taehyung said, brow furrowing, “How did he guide you so fast?”

Jimin pivoted on the floor, with Jungkook still in his lap, turning to face Taehyung.

Jimin perked up, looking like an eager schoolboy, ready to gossip with his friends, “Okay, so. Jungkook didn’t pull me out, Tae? Well, he did, but not like actually grabbing onto me and tugging me out. He talked to just me? Like he actually just talked me out of my zone! TaeTae! It was so cool! Like, it didn’t hurt at all!”

Hoseok frowned, “Guides can’t talk when they’re guiding. That’s not possible.”

Jungkook paused, embarrassment making him twitch.

“Um,” Jungkook mumbled, unable to muster up the courage to actually look up at the Sentinels that had just watched him shamelessly make out with Jimin.

“Hey, little one,” Jimin cooed, “Are you feeling a little shy?”

“You groped him on the floor of an Academy lounge. Of course, he’s embarrassed,” Yoongi muttered.

This seemed to be the comment that finally bruised Jimin’s ego.

“Oh,” the Sentinel said softly, pouting at Jungkook, “Are you embarrassed of me, little one?”

Jungkook blinked, confused, and also incredibly amused.

Because, wow, that’s what Jimin took from Yoongi’s statement.

“What? N-No, sir, not at all,” Jungkook whispered. Even though the other Sentinels would be able to hear him anyway, whispering made him feel less self conscious.

Jimin pushed his lower lip out even further, “Then why won’t you speak?”

“Uh…” Jungkook blinked, wondering if there was any way to talk his way out of this, before just sighing. He wasn’t familiar with Jimin’s ego; he didn’t know how to soothe it. Mustering up as much courage as he could, Jungkook kept himself hidden in Jimin’s arms, but he raised his voice to a conversational level. “I talk Sentinels out of zones. I find it less taxing on my part and more efficient. Most Sentinels don’t appreciate it, though, since my voice feels like one of their thoughts. I’ve heard it’s very disorientating.”

“Oh. Your voice is interpreted at part of their own stream of consciousness?” Taehyung questioned.

Jungkook quietly mumbled a “Yes, sir.”

“Is this why your Guide ranking is so poor?”

Jungkook nodded, unable to verbally admit to that.

Taehyung tilted his head, considering this. “That would make sense. Most guiding literature is written from the perspective of Sentinels. Its due to academics consisting mostly of Sentinels, and Sentinel literature being largely quantitative, while Guide literature leans towards the philosophically qualitative… I never would have thought it would also cause bias in how guiding techniques were taught.”

Jungkook swallowed, unsure what that meant for him, specifically, though in the back of his head, he wondered if Professor Kim Taehyung sounded that hot during his lectures.

“I suppose I can understand how some Sentinels may not enjoy the blur between themselves and their Guides,” Hoseok said, lips dipping into a disapproving frown.

Jimin rolled his eyes, waving his hand, “Maybe for weaker Sentinels, that’s an issue. Not for us. There’s nothing you could do to us that would make us feel vulnerable. I, for one, greatly enjoyed not having to fight off a Guide and deal with a pounding headache.”

“Our pillow princess,” Yoongi’s lips twitched.

Jimin pouted.

“Well, a promise is a promise, Cadet Jeon,” Seokjin said, voice smooth.

Jungkook perked up to attention.

“We promised if you performed satisfactorily with Jimin, we would allow you a chance to prove yourself. Though I don’t approve,” Seokjin said, “I will fulfill a request of yours.”

“Please let me Guide another member, General Kim.”

Jungkook expected Seokjin to frown, to actually look disapproving, but instead, his eyesss gleamed with something sharp, analytical, almost, “I’ll allow it.”

Jungkook nodded, eagerly looking at Seokjin, excitement tinting his vision.

“Lovely-”

“He’s mine,” Jimin complained, moving back, away from the rest of Bangtan, pulling Jungkook with him.

“Jimin,” Hoseok said cheerfully, “This is unbecoming.”

“He is my guide,” Jimin grumbled, pressing his lips to Jungkook’s forehead, “He can’t guide anyone else. I’ll kill them.”

“You’ll kill me?” Yoongi questioned, voice sharp.

Jungkook could see irritation flash across Yoongi’s face.

The Cadet suddenly remembered the ride he’d seen in Jimin’s mindscape; the plummeting drop that Jimin had used as a metaphor for Yoongi’s anger.

Jungkook really didn’t want to see Yoongi mad.

“Do you want to repeat that, princess?” Yoongi questioned, voice gaining even more of an edge.

“Uhhh,” Jungkook trailed, mind racing.

Jimin…

Jimin was very close to Taehyung, wasn’t he? Taehyung frequently co-lectured with Jimin. Jimin often referred to him as his second half. During battle, they were usually paired off together…

“Jimin, sir?” Jungkook questioned, voice trembling slightly, both at speaking up and feeling Yoongi’s tetchy gaze on his skin.

“Yes, little one?” Jimin cooed, immediately giving Jungkook his attention.

“I’d really like to guide General Taehyung, if that’s okay,” Jungkook said, trying to soften his voice to something innocent, “I saw how much you liked him, when I was guiding you, you had a lot of really pretty rides dedicated to him, and I want to be as close with him as you are.”

Taehyung perked up, recognizing that it could be his turn next if he played his cards right.

“Please, Jiminie? We can share him!” Taehyung cheered excitedly, already standing up from his seat.

“I don’t know…” Jimin murmured.

“Please, sir?” Jungkook repeated, widening the doe eyes Jimin seemed to be infatuated with, “Please? You promised I could.”

Jimin winced.

Then nodded.

“Okay. Only TaeTae.”

Chapter 15: Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Chapter 13:

“Okay. Only TaeTae.”

“Yes!” Taehyung cheered, looking less like a Professor, a leading Xenoliterature expert, or a General, and more like a kid who just got the new release of an e-game.

Taehyung knelt in front of Jungkook, who was still cradled in Jimin’s arms.

For a quick second, Taehyung glanced back at Namjoon, who tilted his head to Seokjin. Seokjin nodded, offering permission.

Taehyung grinning, bouncing, as he turned around to face Jungkook. He took Jungkook’s hands in his own eyes glittering in such an adorable childish way that Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle.

Taehyung was a Kim. Kim nobles had a variety of mods that they played around with, how a Kim ended up depended both on on the specific subset of Kim and the roll of genetic dice.

Jungkook had never been quite sure what Taehyung was. It had never been specifically obvious, and mods weren’t really public knowledge so much as gossip.

But this close, Jungkook was fairly sure he could hazard a guess.

The slits in the sides of Taehyung’s throat where a solid give-away. Gills. Taehyung was definitely aquatic, which limited the choice pool significantly.

However, it was the dusting of tiny black dots along the crests of his cheekbones and nose that gave it away.

Those were ampullae of lorenzini, the sort that sharks had; they would allow Taehyung to detect electrical fields, though Jungkook wasn’t sure if that only happened in water.

There was only one alien race that had them.

Osteic. Taehyung was part Osteic. The species known for being plated in razor sharp plates and surviving frigid, super-saturated salt water riptides.

Jungkook swallowed, unable to explain why he found that so attractive.

Taehyung, however, for as acute as his senses were, didn’t seem to pick up on Jungkook’s loss of focus.

“Yes! Alright, so, I take a little longer to zone.”

Jungkook nodded, blinking, trying to bring himself back to the present.

“But! I promise not to zone on a carousel? Was it?”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to muffle his laughter. Taehyung was a war hero, and yet, here he was, eyes bright and eager for Jungkook to just guide him.

“Feel free to zone, General Kim. I’ll pull you out.”

“I’m sure you will, Jeon! I’m eager to see it,” Taehyung said, “Jimin’s very good at falling into zones. So, he can do those dramatic falls mid-kiss, but it takes me a little while longer to actually…”

Taehyung trailed off, eyes glazing over, as his head lolled forward, limp.

He had zoned.

Jungkook took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

And then he opened his eyes.

Taehyung’s aura was visually striking; it was sharp and fuzzy all at once, like a collage of jewel-toned photo filters overlapping each other.

A Guide could easy spend far too long just trying to catch a tendril of Taehyung’s aura; it was like hitting a moving target.

Jungkook, however, didn’t have to bother with that. A spike of black, tipped with a single star, pierced through Taehyung’s aura from the inside, extending outward to Jungkook. It didn’t move, despite the flow of the Sentinel’s aura.

And with a still target, Jungkook easily reached out and bonded, a line of black connecting his aura to the center of Taehyung’s.

Jungkook closed his eyes as the line smoothed out, creating a smooth, uniform bond.

He exhaled, slowly, relaxing.

And then when he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the Academy.

Taehyung’s mindscape…

Jungkook didn’t quite recognize.

It was a building, a large building that seemed to stretch on for miles. But it was an an amalgamation of so many different architecture structures from every possible Terran era, that Jungkook couldn’t even quite look at the building without getting confused.

Concrete slabs met roman pillars met traditionalist brick panels met east asian curled roofs, met neo-electric windows met white-age smoothed nanotech doors.

Jungkook warily walked into the building.

Just what was this place?

Most, if not all, Sentinels mirrored their minds after places they had strong emotional attachments, too.

Taehyung must have seen this place… or something like it, at some point in his life.

Jungkook entered the foyer of the building; it was a large, heigh-ceilinged room, with a somewhat ugly tile floor. It looked reminiscent of a theater, maybe? Or something Jungkook had seen in a textbook once. He wasn’t sure.

Something moved, Jungkook’s head whipped to the side, expecting Taehyung, instead, seeing a beautiful woman dressed in an antiquated… fight attendant uniform?

She walked forward, low kitten heels clicking against the odd floor, “Welcome to Professor Kim Taehyung’s personal memory palace. How many are in your party?” Her accent was an odd one, one that Jungkook couldn’t place for the life of him.

It must have been Terran.

Extraterrestrial accents were more tonal than syllabic.

But… Jungkook was entirely sure he’s never heard that accent before.

“Just me,” Jungkook answered.

Her bright red lipsticked lips curled up into a polite smile, “Would you like a tour of the museum, then? Or would you prefer wander around yourself?”

Jungkook co*cked his head, confused. And then he realized- this was likely Taehyung’s subconscious’ way of helping Jungkook.

Like the pink footprints in Jimin’s mind.

This was the same thing… except Taehyung had offered him a tour guide instead.

Cute.

“A museum?”

The tour guide nodded, “The premises is organized into sections of various Terran museums. This foyer is taken from the Field Museum in New Chicago.”

Jungkook nodded.

Things were starting to make sense. If it was a collection of different places, that would explain the absolute architectural chaos of the exterior.

“Sir? Would you like a tour of the museum?” the tour guide repeated.

“Could you take me to a specific exhibit?” Jungkook questioned, wondering just how well the woman would be able to help him.

“Why yes, of course! Which exhibit?”

Jungkook pursed his lips. “I don't know the name… I was supposed to meet General Taehyung there, if that helps?”

“Oh! The Professor is in the Eastern wing! Its mimicked after the third Louvre. I’d be happy to take you there, if you’re ready to leave?”

Jungkook nodded.

The woman clapped her hands together, before smoothly turning on her heel and walking down a hallway. “Please follow me! It’s a bit of a walk.”

“That’s not a problem,” Jungkook reassured, following her.

The woman, despite being visibly Terran and in heels, moved quickly, speed walking fast enough that Jungkook practically needed to jog to keep up with her.

Lining the halls were paintings, dozens upon dozens of paintings. There were vivid, compact strokes, semi-realistic and fairly recognizable, right off the bat. The colors were bright. Cheerful. Taehyung was proud of these; Jungkook could tell that just from looking at him.

“This is the public wing! You’ll notice on your left and right that all of this is dedicated to the public figure Kim Taehyung. This hall, specifically, showcases many of his commendations,” the woman explained.

Jungkook was jogging much to fast to personally read all the inscriptions, so he was grateful for the explanations.

“Popular pieces include ‘First language I personally added to the universal translator database’ and ‘Day I received tenure at the Royal University’.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle.

Taehyung was a war hero, and yet, he still felt like receiving tenure as a professor was a big accomplishment.

“My personal favorite is ‘Being granted tweveth piercing by the Crown,’ on your left. The brushstrokes are impeccable.”

Jungkook glanced to his left just in time to see a painting of the royal throne room in the capital. A figure dressed in white- probably Taehyung- kneeing in front of the Crown Princess.

He only got a glimpse of it, before the woman woman led him left, walking down another hall. There were large foreboding doors, metal ones, that opened when the woman scanned her key card.

The architecture here was immediately different.

From the odd ugly brown tile and vaguely western architecture to a bright white neo-tech design, nanobots fluttered in the walls, creating a soft moving wave in the surface.

This design was still a couple decades old, but at least Jungkook was familiar with it.

“This wing is typically off limits to the public! Luckily you have access, so we get to take this short cut instead of taking the longer route.”

Jungkook looked to the side, and immediately frowned.

While the paintings in the other hall had been bright, cheerful- these were dark, shades of brown with dark shadows stretching across the canvas.

“What is this place?” Jungkook asked, wary, as he rushed past the blackish paintings.

“This is the Professors juvenile years. I think the most recent painting in the wing would be the age of 20. Many depict the manual labor the Professor did on the planet Orellal.”

“The mining planet?” Jungkook frowned.

“Yes! They’re known for their Moscovium.”

“Taehyung did manual labor there?”

Jungkook was confused. It was hard to find knowledge on Taehyung’s early life; Jungkook didn’t know much about him before he enrolled in University at the age of 25.

Jungkook had just assumed Taehyung had been a noble, off-planet, who decided to come back to Terra. After all, Taehyung was a noble, he was a chimera.

Only the rich had access to infusions, and only the nobility had access to the incredibly specific genetic engineering that could be conducted in vivo.

Moreover- Taehyung was a renowned academic. A genius. Uncountable PhDs. A professor with tenure.

How could he have ever ended up doing manual labor on a mining planet?

“There’s an extensive number of pieces in this collection, but I’d say the keystones are ‘arrival on Orellal after abduction’-”

“Taehyung was abducted?”

“Yes!” the woman nodded cheerfully, “He was the son of a wealthy business woman. Their ship was intercepted mid-travel, and the pirates realized they’d get a much better rate for a noble Terran Sentinel than anything on the ship, even if he wasn’t fully grown, so they took him.”

Jungkook looked at the paintings in horror. He stopped in the middle of the hall.

“Sir, we aren’t at our destination, yet,” the woman said, confused.

But, Jungkook ignored her, walking up to a painting, swallowing.

It was almost all black, a deep, consuming black, with just the barest stretches of light, as if there was something glowing behind the viewer, offering just the slightest bit of visibility.

Jungkook looked down at the plaque.

“When I finally lost track of time”

The Guide swallowed. His fingertips, shaky, reached out to touch the metal plating. He couldn’t feel it; he wasn’t really corporal, couldn’t really affect things.

“Can you tell me about this one?” Jungkook asked softly.

“Of course, sir,” the woman said, walking up to the painting, standing just a step behind Jungkook, “This was made… twenty six years ago, the Professor was fifteen at the time. He was put to work in the mines. Terran Sentinels have some of the best senses in the galaxy, especially when you consider their athleticism. Moscovium vibrates, so he was made to lead the underground mining parties to Moscovium caches.”

“And the title?”

“The Professor been tracking the days with chalk tallies and the supervisor had defaced them that day.”

Jungkook swallowed.

“How long was he there?”

“The Professor isn’t sure, so I don’t know. But he was fifteen when he was taken, and presumed to be twenty when he was rescued.”

“Who rescued him?” Jungkook owed them a debt, whoever it was- Jungkook owed them everything.

To think- Taehyung could have continued rotting in the dark, hurting, exhausted, alone… Jungkook could feel tears run down his face.

“It was an expedition led by General Kim Namjoon. COAL was cracking down on human rights violations, and General Namjoon was spearheading much of the effort.”

“Oh,” Jungkook whispered.

He knew about that.

Namjoon had been cracking down being-trafficking rings, ensuring all COAL-allied planets followed COAL guidelines. And then, suddenly, two years into the campaign, Namjoon moved from simply breaking up the rings and fining planets to declaring outright war against those who didn’t comply to his demands.

Jungkook wondered if Taehyung was the reason for the escalation of violence on Namjoon’s part.

“Sir? Would you still like to meet the Professor?”

“Yes,” Jungkook sniffed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

He still had to guide Taehyung out of his zone.

He had lingered here too long.

“Please, I’m late,” Jungkook told her.

“I’ll rush then,” the woman smiled, “Follow me.”

The woman in her odd flight attendant uniform turned on her heel and ran.

“Wha-” Jungkook sputtered, chasing her after her.

Jungkook was a soldier- he was an exceedingly capable runner. And he was having trouble keeping up with a flight attendant turned tour guide in kitten heels.

The next hall was decorated with Persian filigree and deep reds.

“This is the hall for familial memories!”

The next hall was warm beiges, stone floor.

“This is the hall for all the books the Professor’s read!”

The next hall was simple, but… sweet? The walls were a gentle pale blue, the floor was a plush pale pink carpet. It reminded Jungkook vaguely of a children’s play room.

“This is where the Professor compartmentalizes Guides,” the woman said, stopping abruptly in the middle of the hall. “You can find him in there.” She gestured towards one of the paintings on the wall.

“In the painting?” Jungkook repeated.

“Yes, sir. Can I help you with anything else?”

And Jungkook couldn’t help himself- “Where’s your accent from?”

“It’s a Transatlantic accent. It was common in the mid-twentieth century in media, though not in practice. Have a good day, sir,” the woman smiled, and then began walking away.

Transatlantic accent, huh?

Jungkook would have to ask Taehyung about it.

But to do that, Jungkook would have to find Taehyung first.

The Guide warily stepped up to the painting the woman had pointed to.

It was the lounge, back at the Academy. Taehyung kneeling in front of Jungkook, eyes closed. Jungkook cradled in Jimin’s arms. The rest of Bangtan watching from their seats a few meters away.

Jungkook frowned, looking down at the plaque.

Cadet Jeon Jungkook: extraordinary

Jungkook felt his cheeks heat up, flattered.

“She said he was inside,” Jungkook muttered, “How can he be insi-”

Jungkook paused, eyes catching on another white figure on the seats. There were five people on the chairs.

Taehyung was sitting on the floor in front of Jungkook.

He was also sitting between Seokjin and Yoongi on the sofa.

That wasn’t right.

Jungkook reached out, warily moving to touch the painted image of the second Taehyung, only for his hand to meet air.

In a vertigo-inducing shift of perspective, the painting became a window.

What had been two-dimensional paint-strokes was now a crisp clear room that was undeniably real.

“What the hell?” Jungkook muttered, looking around the room, leaning his torso into the window, into the lounge, while his feet remained firmly in the museum hallway.

Everyone was frozen.

Except for the Taehyung on the couch.

He was speaking, looking at Jungkook and the other copy of him sitting on the floor.

“His skin is a warm ninety-eight point nine, with callouses over his midpalmer space. Heart rate is high, over one-hundred and ten-”

“General?” Jungkook questioned, cautiously slipping through the window and into the lounge.

Taehyung’s head whipped to the side. Whatever mild fog had been blurring his eyes faded almost entirely.

“Jeon,” Taehyung greeted, with a surprised tone with a smile, “Jimin hadn’t been lying. You’re incredibly gentle. I hadn’t even realized you were here.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook smiled, “Do you mind if I lead you out of your zone? It seems to have mostly dissipated, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” Taehyung nodded, standing up, “What would you like me to do?”

What would you like me to do?

Taehyung was a General and he was asking Jungkook for orders.

“What were you focused on, General?”

Taehyung gave Jungkook a charming, boxy smile, “I was focused on the feel of your hands in mine. Strong aren’t they? I know it’s fashionable for Guides to be softer, but I think your incredibly defined musculature is growing on me.”

Jungkook blushed, aggressively.

“Uh, this painting is meant for my palms, but we’re having a conversation. I’m sure your interpersonal relationships belong somewhere else, don’t they?”

“They do,” Taehyung agreed, amused.

“Will you show me where that is, General? I don’t know the way, myself.”

“It would be my honor,” Taehyung teased, walking forward to offer Jungkook his elbow, “Follow me?”

Jungkook grimaced, “I can’t actually touch you, sir.”

Taehyung blinked, “What do you mean?”

Jungkook raised a hand, palm forward, and then slowly extended his arm until his fingertips were brushing Taehyung’s skin, except they weren’t.

Jungkook’s fingers passed through Taehyung’s skin; the Sentinel didn’t even flinch, clearly not feeling anything from Jungkook’s ghostly touch.

“Ah,” Taehyung said, staring at Jungkook’s slightly transparent fingers passing through his skin, “How weird. I’ll have to do some reading on that. I wonder if there’s been another Guide like you.”

“Hopefully, I’d love some advice,” Jungkook admitted, “It’s just been trial and error for me.”

“You’ve been doing fantastic on your own,” Taehyung shook his head, “But yes, I’ll try to find some materials. If not for your sake, then mine. I’m incredibly curious.”

“Thank you, General.”

Taehyung led him back to the window, jumping through it himself, before reaching back inside and picking Jungkook up and moving him over himself.

They were both back in the museum, staring at the painting depicting Taehyung and Jungkook holding hands.

“I hope I didn’t give you too much trouble,” Taehyung told him, voice incredibly warm, “I know Jimin can be a little rough on Guides, so I tried to be considerate.”

“You were!” Jungkook rushed to reassure, “I had no trouble at all.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Jeon.”

Jungkook swallowed, lifting a shaky hand to the painting in front of him, “What’s the painting about?”

“You, specifically your hands.”

Jungkook slipped out of Taehyung’s mind.

Chapter 16: Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Chapter 14:

Jungkook slipped out of Taehyung’s mind.

He opened his eyes.

The white walls of the lounge met him. Taehyung was kneeling in front of him, eyes beginning to flutter open. Jimin’s arms were still tight around his waist. Over Taehyung’s shoulder, Jungkook saw the four older members of Bangtan looking at him with varying expressions.

“Are you okay?” Jimin whispered softly, “Do you have a headache? Your eyes started watering.”

Jungkook blinked, reaching up to wipe away his watery eyes, “No, I’m okay. No headache.”

“Are you sure? I can get you medication. I can massage your temples. Or your shoulders. I’ll massage you all over if that will help,” Jimin offered enthusiastically, pressing his lips to Jungkook’s neck.

The Guide squeaked, going stiff in Jimin’s arms.

“Jimin,” Hoseok said, wryly, “Maybe giving him some space might be the best thing for his potential headache.”

“No!” Jimin rejected, petulantly, “He’s mine. He doesn’t need space.”

Taehyung yawned, slow and lazy, before nodding. His eyes were squinty as he squeezed Jungkook’s hands.

“Taehyung?” Seokjin questioned, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

The Sentinel pouted moving forward and cuddling into Jungkook’s chest, resting his back against Jungkook’s front and wrapping Jungkook’s arms around his neck.

Taehyung was essentially resting in his lap.

Jungkook was essentially spooning Taehyung.

I’m going to faint.

“Sir,” Taehyung hummed, head lolling against Jungkook’s shoulder, “Jimin was telling the truth. I adore him. He’s perfect.”

“You like him, sweetling?” Seokjin’s voice was calm, collected; his tone was perfectly polite, but Jungkook somehow knew that Seokjin was teasing.

“Yeah, sir,” Taehyung nodded, cute, as he tugged Jungkook’s arms around him even tighter.

“Thank you, General-”

“Sir,” Taehyung interrupted, looking up at Jungkook with happy eyes, “You can call me sir.”

“O-oh, okay… sir,” Jungkook whispered, still feeling a little shy at the intimate title.

“You’re so cute,” Taehyung praised, pressing a kiss to one of Jungkook’s uniform buttons.

“So we shouldn’t keep him?” Seokjin asked, voice soft, though there was something light-hearted about the set of his hands in his lap.

Twin protests erupted from both Sentinels, both petulantly angry, tugging at Jungkook’s limbs possessively. Jungkook felt like he was the rope in a children’s tug-of-war game, pulled back and forth between the two.

“Mine!”

“You can’t take him!”

“I wanna keep him!”

“He’s my Guide!”

“Yeah! Mine and TaeTae’s!”

Seokjin lifted a hand to hide his lips, that were undoubtedly smiling, “I see. Well, I’ve never seen you or Jimin experience such intense imprinting symptoms; I can’t imagine better evidence of how exceptional your Guide is.”

“I suppose Jeon had some reason to be so confident,” Hoseok said, tilting his head, “I’m curious to see how your aura adapted two Sentinels.”

Jungkook blinked, unsure whether or not that warranted an answer.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to examine him at length,” Seokjin said, glancing at the Doctor, “I imagine the insight will be valuable.”

“Certainly.”

“As for the matter of Cadet Jeon,” Seokjin trailed, glancing at the others, “We do have to make a decision.”

Yoongi exhaled, looking tetchy, “I never want to deny them anything.”

“Neither do I.”

“I think… he’s handled Guiding both Jimin and Taehyung back to back, better than I’ve seen any Guide manage it,” Hoseok reasoned, “I don’t think… it would be entirely unreasonable to assume that he could bond to two Guides, as well.”

“And if he dies?” Namjoon said, shortly, “How reckless is it to risk the young man’s life on reasonability?”

Hoseok and Yoongi gave Namjoon a look.

“Personally, Jimin and Taehyung’s happiness takes priority for me.”

“That’s disgusting,” Namjoon muttered.

“However terrible you feel,” Hoseok shrugged a shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll feel a lot worse, when you watch Jimin and Taehyung pine for a half-baked unmodded Cadet of all things.”

A half-baked unmodded Cadet.

Was Jungkook supposed to be offended? He wasn’t sure.

Jimin and Taehyung just watched the conversation unfold, like children watching their parents argue. Jungkook was starting to realize that Jimin and Taehyung really had no say in the actual goings on of Bangtan.

“You’d rather have them watch him die?”

“It wouldn’t be the first Guide they’ve watched die,” Yoongi argued, “They’re not children, Namjoon. They can handle it.”

“Yes, but he can’t!” Namjoon pointed a finger at Jungkook, raising his voice.

Taehyung’s arms tightened around Jungkook’s waist, eyes darkening as he looked back at the remaining Sentinels. He seemed upset. Defensive, at the very least.

“No one is going to hurt him,” Taehyung said, voice low, nearly as deep as Namjoon’s, “They will have to tear through me first.”

The Sentinels all looked Taehyung’s way with differing expressions, concern, irritation, amusem*nt, curiosity.

“They’re both so attached,” Hoseok murmured, co*cking his head, “I’ve never seen them get like this before.”

“He’s special,” Taehyung added, eyes narrowing ever so slightly in warning.

“He’s certainly something,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “But, yes, I’m fine with this.”

“Same.”

“I am as well, but Namjoon?” Seokjin looked at the leader, “The decision requires your approval, despite our support.”

“Fine,” Namjoon slumped back into his chair, running a hand through his hair, “Fine, I approve.”

“Lovely, I really do appreciate it, Joonie,” Seokjin smiled at Namjoon, before looking at Jungkook, “Very well, Jungkook. Congratulations, you’ll be first Guide allowed to bond to two members of Bangtan. I’m sure you’re very proud of yourself.”

Jimin and Taehyung seemed to find no issue with this statement, giggling their thanks to Namjoon as the continued to cuddle Jungkook tightly, but-

Jungkook had a problem with that.

A major problem with that.

“That’s- But, that’s not what we agreed on, General,” Jungkook frowned.

Seokjin raised a condescending eyebrow, and suddenly, Jungkook realized that Seokjin’s serene nature was probably hiding a great deal of ulterior motives.

He couldn’t trust Seokjin to say what he meant.

“I agreed to grant you a single request, Cadet Jeon. You wanted the opportunity to guide Taehyung, I allowed that.”

“But- I- You promised- If I proved myself, I could, I could guide all of you.”

Namjoon sent him a heavy look.

“I understand that’s what you wanted, Cadet Jeon, but truly, I can’t think of any way I can approve of such an arrangement.”

“You can bond with Jimin and Taehyung,” Hoseok encouraged, “That, alone, is an honor no one has ever received before. If you were after acclaim, you’ve succeeded.”

“I wasn’t, General Jung, I just…”

Jungkook trailed off, because he couldn’t tell them about the pre-mature bond, about how Jungkook was their perfect match. They wouldn’t believe him. No one ever believed him.

They’d think he was lying even more shamelessly than he was now.

“What is it, then? Why are you so determined to die?” Namjoon questioned, dark eyes boring into Jungkook.

“He’s not going to die,” Taehyung argued, pulling away from Jungkook slightly to glare at Namjoon, “Stop saying that.”

“Was I talking to you, Taehyung?” Namjoon questioned darkly.

And Taehyung, despite all the courage the powerful imprint was giving him, still couldn’t quite meet Namjoon’s boring eyes straight on. “No, sir,” he said, dropping his gaze.

“You,” Namjoon said to Jungkook, “Answer my question.”

“I… I… I just… I want to prove everyone wrong,” Jungkook blurted, grasping at straws, “I’m a good Guide, even if the Academy doesn’t agree.”

Namjoon’s lips downturned into a sneer.

This, it seems, was not the right answer.

“I’m truly at my wits end with this Dean,” Namjoon muttered, voice dark, “Look at what sorts of toxic behaviors she’s breeding in this cesspool.”

“Those behaviors benefit us,” Yoongi snorted.

“What has you so tetchy-”

“Cadet Jeon,” Seokjin said firmly, interrupting the Sentinel’s in-fighting, “This is our final offer. You will be allowed to bond to General Jimin and Taehyung. Anyone else in this Academy would be elated to have even half that offer.”

Jungkook bit his lip.

He knew, that if he lost here; he’d never win again. This was as seriously as they’d ever take Jungkook and his ridiculous request. He couldn’t let this subject drop.

Jungkook could already see it: raised eyebrows, scoffs as they waved him away, locked doors, fake promises.

This was his one chance.

Jungkook wasn’t going to squander it.

“Anyone else in this Academy…” Jungkook said, making sure to enunciate his words, “Wouldn’t be able to make such an impression on Jimin and Taehyung, General Kim. You’ve said that yourself.”

Seokjin’s expression froze, and then he tilted his head, a perfectly polite smile on his face.

I was right. Seokjin doesn’t say what he’s thinking.

“Cadet Jeon,” Seokjin blinked, slow and oddly unsettling, “You’re a Guide of remarkable talent, so I’m indulging you. But, please don’t forget your place.”

Jungkook forced himself to straighten his shoulders, even though Seokjin was blinking like some kind of f*cking predator.

“It’s just that, General Kim, you’re acting as though I’m the one who can’t afford to decline your offer, when, really, it’s the other way around. I’m not the one emotionally bonded to a… what did you call me? A half-baked unmoded Cadet?”

“It’s funny, you think you can threaten us,” Yoongi said dryly.

“What’s funny is how eager my Sentinels are. Kiss me?” Jungkook asked, as he tucked a hand underneath Taehyung’s chin, tilting it up. Taehyung eagerly met him for a kiss, the Sentinel’s hands came up to tangle in Jungkook’s hair, nearly yanking Jungkook forward, as they kissed upside down.

“I’ll kiss you all you want, baby,” Taehyung promised, between kisses.

Then, Jimin’s hands tightened around Jungkook’s waist, pulling him backwards, away from Taehyung’s lips and towards his own.

“What did I say about asking for kisses, hm?” Jimin purred, as his forked tongue licked at the seam of Jungkook’s parted lips.

His forked tongue.

“Not to.”

“Exactly, baby,” Jimin said into their kiss, “I’ll give you anything you want. Sir was being so mean to you, but that’s okay, Darling, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It was a lewd display. It was embarrassing. But, Jungkook had a point to prove.

Jimin and Taehyung had imprinted. Pretty strongly.

They’d do anything for Jungkook for the next couple weeks if not months.

They’d pine for him until another, better, Guide came around.

How much was Bangtan willing to bet that there was a Guide better than Jungkook in this academy?

Were they willing to gamble Jimin and Taehyung’s happiness on that chance?

Jungkook didn’t think so.

Chapter 17: Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Chapter 15:

He let Jimin give him a few more kisses, before finally pulling away. He had to physically push Jimin’s face away in order to distance himself from the persistent kisses.

Jimin and Taehyung were infatuated with Jungkook. It reminded him of young Sentinel schoolboys, running after their school nurses that guided them out of the zone they fell into on the playground.

It made him giggle.

Jimin’s face lit up at the sight.

And it was then, giggling, with Jimin beaming at him, and Taehyung still attempting to suck hickey’s into his neck, that Jungkook turned back to Yoongi.

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows were raised; he seemed genuinely a little irritated, though not nearly as aggressive as he’d been towards Namjoon earlier.

Jungkook had to admit; he looked hot like this.

“If you want me to bond to Taehyung and Jimin, you had better meet my demands, General.”

“Very few people have dared to demand something from me,” Yoongi drawled, glancing down at his nails, “Don’t quite remember what happened to most of them, their ashes, I mean. I think I used them for rocket fuel.”

“I bet you killed them easily, General,” Jungkook grinned, swirling one of Taehyung’s curls around his finger, condescending, “But something tells me, you might have a harder time killing me.”

“No one,” Jimin spoke up, eyes flicking between the rest of Bangtan, “Is laying a hand on Jungkook.”

Yoongi didn’t seem to be truly angry. It seemed that Yoongi instinctively struck at those he deemed disobedient. If he wanted Jungkook dead, he’d be, as Yoongi said, rocket fuel by now.

So that didn’t seem to be it.

Respect…

Respect seemed to be a big deal to General Min.

“I don’t need to lay a hand on him, in order to kill him, baby,” Yoongi reminded, lips twitching slightly.

Yes.

That’s exactly what it was.

Yoongi had been arguing for Jimin and Taehyung to keep him not only a couple minutes ago. Yoongi clearly didn’t have an issue with this arrangement.

He had gotten aggressive, yes, but that was only because Jungkook had spoken out of turn. He had also gotten upset when Taehyung threatened him.

Yoongi seemed to prefer when his word was law.

Namjoon was Bangtan’s leader, but he seemed to mind less with honorifics. Yoongi, apparently, valued them greatly.

The two Sentinels tangled around Jungkook perked up at that, shoulders straightening, eyes narrowing as they frowned at Yoongi.

“Are you threatening him?” Jimin questioned, upset.

“He’s our Guide, sir,” Taehyung followed up.

“He’s not your-”

“Yoongi,” Hoseok interrupted, shaking his head, “They didn’t mean it like that. They’re just a little worked up.”

Yoongi exhaled, tsking, “I hate when they’re bratty.”

“I think, considering the circ*mstances,” Hoseok said, voice careful, “You can let this go.”

Jungkook watched as Yoongi visibly deflated as Hoseok spoke to him.

Huh, Jungkook thought, I’ll have to remember that.

“Jeon had no right to act so belligerent.”

“This is the only card he can play,” Hoseok’s voice was cheerful, despite the tense nature of the room, “You can understand someone taking some drastic measures when they’re desperate, can’t you?”

“No,” Yoongi said shortly.

“Oh, come on, sir,” Hoseok huffed, flapping a hand in Yoongi’s direction, “You’ve shot people for looking at me the wrong way.”

Jungkook watched with mild awe, as Yoongi’s gruff expression seemed to melt, dripping away under the warmth of Hoseok’s smile.

“What’s your point, Seok?”

“We all agreed to give the kiddo a chance. You can’t begrudge him that, just because he’s disrespectful. It’s not like you to care about your lessers.”

“I don’t,” Yoongi’s voice sharpened, eyes cutting across the room to re-land on Jungkook.

“It’s settled then! Besides, it won’t be without conditions…” Hoseok looked at Jungkook, with that same cheery smile on his face, but there was something in his eyes Jungkook didn’t trust.

He’s like Seokjin, Jungkook thought, he won’t tell me what he’s feeling.

“We will give you a single chance with each of us at a later date. We will spread the opportunities out, so they won’t harm your health. However, once that happens, you will bond to Jimin and Taehyung, regardless of your health, you will serve your thirty years of military years under us.”

Bondage.

Most Guides had the choice of at the very least being reassigned to another Sentinel; if they felt like they were being mistreated, they could always ask for a new Sentinel. Bangtan Sentinels only had to serve a single year.

Jungkook, though, would be stuck.

His hands would be tied for thirty years.

They’d own him for thirty years; odds were that he’d die before that, too.

Hoseok… Hoseok was dangerous.

Yoongi had been aggressive, but Jungkook had gotten the sense it would have been limited to a whipping, at best. Hoseok wanted Jungkook to die after thoroughly draining him dry.

Jungkook swallowed, “That sounds fair, General Jung.”

Hoseok looked away, glancing at Seokjin and Namjoon, “Does that sound fair?”

Seokjin waved a serene hand, “That’s acceptable.”

“Namjoon? Sir?”

Namjoon’s frown was deep, as if etched in marble. He sighed, heavy, resting his head atop a propped fist. He was deliberating Jungkook’s fate.

Later, people would look back on this moment, and realize this very decision shaped the galaxy for centuries.

For now, Namjoon glanced at Yoongi, “You seem the most offended. Would you be content with letting him around Jimin and Taehyung.”

Hoseok answered for Yoongi, chirping, “Look at the three of them, they look so cute together. How could we separate them?”

“Mine!”

“Yeah, you can’t take him!”

“I’ll cry, sir!”

“I’ll bite you.”

Namjoon sent his heavy gaze Jimin and Taehyung’s way, and they quieted immediately. The younger two seemed not to be scared of Namjoon in theory, but they were very much scared of him in practice.

Just Jungkook’s luck- the two Sentinels that imprinted on him were at the bottom of Bangtan’s rankings.

“I was asking Yoongi. I would like to hear his answer.”

The Sentinel sighed, “I can be civil.”

Namjoon nodded, platinum blonde hair shining under the light, as he looked at Seokjin, “He insulted you, too.”

Seokjin shook his head minutely, not even glancing Jungkook’s way, “Do not give it a thought.”

Namjoon sighed.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees as he looked at Jungkook. Those black abyss eyes bore into him. General Kim Namjoon had a weary air around him. His hair was platinum blonde like the other members of Bangtan- like most nobles, but Jungkook rather thought a tired grey would suit him much better.

“Unlike my considerate bondmates, I am deeply offended by your behavior.”

“I- I apologize, General Kim,” Jungkook whispered, all of his bravado draining out of him.

He’d faced six terrifying people for far too long. He’d reached his limit. He was exhausted. He slumped against Jimin’s chest.

“Whatever your motives or misinformation, if you ever speak to any of my bondmates in that way, ever again, regardless of Jimin and Taehyung’s feelings, I’ll dispose of you myself. Is that clear?”

“Yes, General Kim.”

“You’re clearly extraordinary, but even the most capable soldiers are useless if they don’t follow my orders. If I tell you to do something, I expect it done.”

“Yes, General Kim,” Jungkook whispered, voice so very meek that it sounded more like an exhale than actual syllables.

“I’ve never seen my bondmates get so attached to another Guide, so I’m certain they’ll take care of you well, but if you require anything, don’t hesitate to let me know,” Namjoon said, voice softening ever so slightly, “I look forward to seeing your abilities, and properly welcoming you as a Guide. Hopefully, our future discussions will be more pleasant.”

“Yes, General Kim.”

“Once Jimin and Taehyung’s imprint fervor subsides, we’ll let you attempt guiding another one of us. However, until then, you’ll be solely in their care.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook swallowed. His heart was pounding, and it pounded even harder at the thought that everyone could hear it.

“Good.”

“Mine,” Jimin reminded, pressing a timid kiss against Jungkook’s temple.

“Don’t wanna share,” Taehyung muttered, cuddling closer to Jungkook’s chest.

“No one is asking that you share, Jimin,” Namjoon reassured half-heartedly. Jungkook understood. It wasn’t as though Jimin could really stop Namjoon if he wanted. It seemed like Jimin would freeze if Namjoon even looked at him the wrong way. “In the meanwhile, I am curious to know what exactly makes you so exceptional. You will be meeting with Hoseok when we reach the Capital.”

“I’d love to work with you,” Hoseok said, speaking up for the first time in a while, voice perfectly cheerful, “If you’ll have me?”

“He’s not having-”

“Anyone.”

Taehyung finished Jimin’s sentence, and Jungkook smiled weakly at their antics.

“We didn’t mean in that way,” Hoseok shook his head with a heart-shaped smile. That smile seemed genuine. “I meant if he’d be willing to have me as a physician.”

“Oh.”

“Okay.”

“Can I have Cadet Jeon’s consent now?” Hoseok questioned.

“Yes.”

“Sure.”

Hoseok sighed, eyes crinkling as he made eye-contact with Jungkook, “Cadet Jeon? Is that alright?”

Jungkook nodded, somehow certain that smile was fake, “Yes, General Jung.”

“Great!” Hoseok offered him another odd smile.

“Now that we’ve gotten that sorted out,” Seokjin said, placing his hands demurely in his lap, “Perhaps we can start going through the rest of the interviews?”

“Great suggestion,” Namjoon agreed briskly, clapping his hands together, “Let’s.”

“Jimin? Taehyung? Do you want to help your new little Guide pack? I’m sure he’ll need some help.”

“Yes!”

“We can do that!”

Seokjin gave them a poised smile, “Perfect. We’ll call you back here once we’ve finished.”

finished picking out more guides, went unsaid.

And suddenly, Jungkook found himself being swept away in Taehyung’s arms, being carried out of the room, before he could even realize what was happening.

And by the time he did, he was much too comfortable in the big, strong Sentinel’s muscled arms to complain.

He’ll deal with the other Guides later- that was future Jungkook’s problem.

For now, Jungkook just wanted to take a nap… and maybe have a good cry.

Chapter 18: Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Chapter 16:

Jimin and Taehyung were almost suffocating. While Jungkook was being carried bridal-style in Jimin’s arms, Taehyung held on tightly to Jungkook’s hands, running his fingertips over the pads of Jungkook’s fingers.

If it was anyone else, Jungkook would have brushed the action off as nothing- but this was the Kim Taehyung of Bangtan, Doctor, Professor, Advisor to the Crown, General of COAL forces, and Jungkook just knew the man was memorizing his finger prints.

He’d seen enough imprinted Sentinels do it.

Possessive desires demanded that they be able to find Jungkook if he ever ran away, able to follow him with nothing but a path of fingerprints on doorhandles.

“Which way are your quarters, Little One?” Jimin questioned, voice bright and chirpy, as he cuddled Jungkook close, nosing at his temple.

Jungkook had never been so thankful for the invention of antiperspirant. He couldn’t imagine going through this situation with the embarrassing addition of sweating and having them smell his perspiration.

“This way,” Taehyung said, tilting his head left, leading Jimin with Jungkook’s held hand.

Jungkook blinked.

“H-how?”

Taehyung gave him a proud smile, puffing his chest out, “I can smell the dormitories from here.”

Jungkook blinked.

Right.

I wonder just how much information they just… know.

Not because anyone told them or because they read it somewhere… but something they know simply by existing in a space at a certain time…

How much information must pass through their heads every second.

What power.

“Impressive, sir.”

“This isn’t the half of it! Let me really show you how impressive I can be? Me and Jiminie are unlike any Sentinel you’ve seen before,” Taehyung’s eyes squinted with the brightness of his smile, and Jungkook melted at the sight.

“I don’t think that’s n-necessary… sir”

“No?” Taehyung’s smile dimmed, “Have I disappointed you already? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Oh hush, TaeTae. As if our little Guide could ever think less of you? That wasn’t your meaning, was it?” Jimin questioned, nudging his nose firmly against Jungkook’s temple, asking him to speak.

Yes.

This was another thing that Jungkook truly hadn’t expected.

Not just Jimin’s… affectionate nature, but his way of being incredibly aware of Jungkook’s emotions.

Jimin seemed to guess Jungkook’s thoughts before the Guide even thought them.

The Sentinel had always seemed… brisk. Curt. Not in an impolite way. But, Jungkook had always seen Jimin as a man of facts, brainy; the kind of man who didn’t see the point of Saint Valen’s Holiday.

It appears, though, that Jungkook’s assumptions were incredibly wrong on this front.

Because, all things considered, Jimin had been the most openly emotional member of Bangtan, offering the most willing smiles, giving Jungkook a sea of affection when Jungkook had merely asked for a drop.

This didn’t make Jimin less formidable.

If anything- Jungkook was more wary of the Sentinel now. Both of them, really.

Jungkook had thought he knew them inside out.

He thought he knew everything there was to know.

But, Jungkook’s information seems to have been fatally incomplete.

Jungkook’s been trained to never even think of fighting an unknown opponent, yet, here he was- both feet firmly on the battlefield, standing in front of an opposing force of six, entirely ignorant to what he might face,

It made him swallow.

Because if Jimin and Taehyung, the most subordinate members of Bangtan, were more dangerous than Jungkook thought- then, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how much he’d underestimated the older four.

If the youngest two Sentinels and the arguably least war-hardened Sentinels were this intimidating, Jungkook couldn’t imagine what he’s in for when facing the rest.

“This way,” Taehyung said, leading Jimin and Jungkook down another hallway, no longer checking for the Cadet’s approval.

Taehyung was intent on showing off now.

Jungkook was going to let him.

He had no choice, either way.

Besides, there was something mildly awe-inspiring about watching Taehyung’s eyes slide over the empty hallways, seeing things Jungkook couldn’t even hope to imagine; finding Jungkook’s rooms with nothing but his body.

No aid.

Not even something he was extremely proud of, Jungkook noted, looking at the Sentinel’s small smile.

Jungkook remembered seeing Taehyung’s bright smiles in the paintings showing his accomplishments. This wasn’t anything compared to that.

Understandable.

But still.

A incomprehensible, impossible task for Jungkook was nothing for Taehyung, for Bangtan.

Jungkook was starting to wonder if he had over-estimated himself. Just a little.

He had spent so long thinking he was extraordinary, so sure Bangtan would fall over him the second they saw him.

He’d been wrong.

They were curious. Accommodating. Very much interested, in the case of Taehyung and Jimin.

But it was foolish for Jungkook to consider it more than that, especially with the way Namjoon’s dark eyes seemed to burn holes into his skin.

The tugging of Jungkook’s aura, the pining of aching heart- those feelings weren’t reciprocated. They wouldn’t be for a long while. If ever.

Jungkook would have to steel himself for that reality.

The Guide sighed, a quiet huff of breath; a private admission of frustration: it had Jimin and Taehyung perking up, heads snapping to Jungkook, brows tilting in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Little one?”

Jungkook shook his head, “Nothing, sir.”

“Are you tired?” Taehyung questioned softly, “It’s okay to admit that. You must have exerted a lot of emotional energy this afternoon.”

“I’m fine. Guiding doesn’t bother me, sir.”

Jimin chuckled, bumping his nose against Jungkook’s temple, “We know that. We had front-seat tickets to that show, little one. Taehyung meant that surely having an unexpected interview with servants of the Crown, and facing Yoongi’s glare must have worn you out.”

“Oh.”

Taehyung smiled, eyes crinkling, “You can take a nap, while Jimin and I pack up your things.”

“I’m leaving now?” Jungkook blinked, suddenly realizing- they were going to pack up his things.

They were packing up his things.

Jungkook was leaving with them. Today. His entire career at the academy was suddenly over. He might not graduate. He’d never be matched with another Sentinel on track to be a ship Captain. He was Bangtan’s, for the couple decades, at the absolute least.

He blinked.

“You won’t be leaving our side.”

“Ever.”

Taehyung finished Jimin’s sentence, both of their voices tinted with a heavy possessiveness that had Jungkook’s stomach feeling so fluttery.

“Okay,” Jungkook accepted, “But I’m not napping, sir”

Jungkook refused to waste precious time with the Taehyung and Jimin unconscious. That simply won’t do. It seemed like a poor decision to allow Jimin and Taehyung to rumage through his things unsupervised… especially considering the extensive amount of Bangtan paraphernalia that he had hidden in pockets around his dorm.

“Whatever you want.”

“Just let us know.”

Jungkook nodded silently.

The Sentinels seemed to accept this. The trio moved forward with Taehyung in the lead, taking a couple more turns, until they stopped in front of the door of Jungkook’s dorm.

It was a door just like all the others. No signs it was Jungkook’s. No name tags or personalization.

“Yes, it’s definitely yours. It’s covered in your fingerprints,” Taehyung nodded, looking at the door handle.

The door handle that looked pristinely polished in Jungkook’s opinion.

Jungkook had no idea when Taehyung had looked at his fingertips, let alone looked at them well enough to memorize what his fingerprints looked like.

Even if this was possibly a task any Sentinel could do, Jungkook’s heart felt warm.

“Yes, sir. This is my room,” Jungkook said, leaning forward slightly to wave his wrist over the door knob. The door clicked open, and Taehyung pushed it open, walking inside and holding the door for Jimin and Jungkook.

“We’ll have to get Hoseok to get that out of you,” Taehyung said, closing the door behind them.

“My chip?”

Chips were standard. All members of the Academy had them and, by extension, the Terran COAL forces. As far as Jungkook knew, even Bangtan’s guides weren’t exempt from that requirement. In a world were soldiers were scattered across the galaxy, the need to be able to communicate to and locate them was exceedingly important.

“There’s a chance of those getting hacked. I’ve even heard of a Guide getting shocked by one of them,” Jimin clicked his tongue.

“Besides, there’s no need for anyone else to monitor you. There’s no one else who needs to monitor you,” Taehyung said, walking further into the room, looking around.

Jungkook’s dorm wasn’t anything notable.

Lots of books. Textbooks. Tablets. Projects and notes. A life of trying to catch up, made physical in the decor of Jungkook’s room.

The young Cadet thanked Pluto that most of his Bangtan paraphernalia was digital and safely stored away on his second tablet.

“Does Kivelan still have her chip?”

Jimin looked down at Jungkook, still nestled in his arms, “Of course. All military personnel have them.”

Jungkook gave Jimin a look in return. “Am I not… part of military personnel?”

“You’re ours,” Taehyung responded, picking up a stack of notes, flipping through them, “And, thus, there’s no need for anything foreign like that in your body.” Then, Taehyung looked at him, intelligent eyes blinking at Jungkook, “There’s no need for you to have anything else but us inside you.”

Jungkook?

Jungkook choked.

He coughed, struggling in Jimin’s arms for only a second, before the reptilian Sentinel bounced him in his arms, shifting positions so Jungkook’s legs were wrapped around Jimin’s waist and his arms were wrapped around his neck.

“Saliva in his trachea,” Jimin said, probably to Taehyung, as he patted Jungkook’s back, helping Jungkook cough. “Only a little left. Almost there.”

He can tell the difference just from the sound of my coughs.

Jungkook, coughing slowly coming to a stop, wondered if there was any limit to Bangtan’s capabilities.

“Are you alright, Jungkook?” Taehyung asked, “Is the atmosphere not to your liking? The oxygen concentration is a little low in here, I think, though I can’t quite taste it like Seokjin can.”

Jungkook wondered what Taehyung would do if Jungkook said yes.

“I’m- I’m fine, sir, sorry,” Jungkook shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts, “But, about the chip… I need it? How will I open doors? Roll call? What if I’m on call?”

“We’ll open doors for you. We don’t have a roll call. And we’ll inform you, personally, if we need aid,” Jimin answered.

“Any other arguments?” Taehyung questioned, turning around, holding a textbook in his arms, looking every bit the professor Jungkook had fantasized about for three years.

Jungkook swallowed.

And then he started wriggling, trying to get out of Jimin’s arms, because he was far too foggy-brained being held by the Jimin while looking at the Taehyung, but neither of them seemed to be bothered by this.

In fact, Jimin’s arms just tightened around him, lips pursing, “Is something wrong?”

“What? No, sir,” Jungkook blinked, “It’s just that, I can stand on my own two feet.”

“Right.”

“Yes…” Jungkook trailed, looking at Jimin’s impassive expression.

“But why would I let you? No reason to allow you callouses on your feet, if we can avoid it,” Jimin said, voice serious, as if what he had said was perfectly reasonable. As if Jimin didn’t sound like a romance lead that made the protagonist’s nose bleed.

“Uhhh.”

Taehyung hummed, looking into Jungkook’s closet, flicking through his hangers. “I don’t know, Min. His physique is growing on me.” The Sentinel glanced over at Jungkook, eyes shining with something… suggestive.

Taehyung… Taehyung was every bit as lecherous as Jimin, Jungkook was coming to realize. Less flirtatious, more blunt, but just as suggestive.

If they ever decided to proposition him at the same time, Jungkook was fairly certain he’d just slip into a coma and die.

“That’s true.”

They fell into silence, and Jungkook stayed in Jimin’s arms.

The Guide didn’t speak up after that. This was the first time Jungkook was dealing with an imprinting Sentinel, and though he’d learned a great deal about the concept in classes, he’s never experienced it for himself.

He’s been told to indulge Sentinels, to comfort them, reassure them, and slowly nudge them into a less co-dependent headspace.

But, really, it didn’t seem like Jimin and Taehyung didn’t need comforting; they were overbearing, and Jungkook wanted to deter them rather than encourage them.

But he was well aware of his own naivety in this area, so he stayed silent.

Taehyung finished his light inspection of the room, before looking at Jungkook, “Suitcases?”

“Under the bed.”

Taehyung nodded, pulling both of them out, unzipping them, and heading towards the closet.

Meticulously, Taehyung began folding up Jungkook’s clothes and putting them away in his suitcase. Except the Sentinel skipped over his uniforms, and most of his formal wear, and a majority of his clothes, in general.

“You have a lot of fine clothing,” Jimin noted, watching Taehyung flick through his closet.

“Most of it doesn’t fit anymore,” Jungkook admitted, “They were compatibility gifts from my school years.”

“I’d have thought you’d continue to be courted at the academy?” Jimin asked, puzzled, “You’re undoubtedly the most attractive Guide of your year.”

Jungkook looked down at the ground, and then closed his eyes entirely, “By the end of my first year, it was well-known that I was a sh*t Guide.”

That awful year… The stares, the whispers, the snickers. Jungkook had gone from being the most desirable Guide in his year to a social outcast. The nights Jungkook had cried himself to sleep; the days he spent trying to hide in Baekhyun’s shadow. How Sentinels he had considered friends had started to act as if he was invisible.

Jungkook hadn’t experienced anything so awful as his first year at Vierna.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jimin whispered.

Another hand cupped Jungkook’s jaw. “You are extraordinary. In every sense of the word.”

Jungkook opened his eyes, seeing both Jimin and Taehyung leaning over him. Their eyes were warm and kind; their lips set in empathetic frowns,

“Both of you have imprinted. You’re very biased,” Jungkook whispered. He wanted to say his words teasingly, but his voice cracked instead.

Taehyung leaned forward, nose skimming against the column of Jungkook’s neck, “We have never imprinted so strongly on a Guide.”

Jungkook shivered at the delicate touch. “First time for everything.”

Jimin shook his head, his hand sliding up from Jungkook’s shoulder, up the nape of his neck, into Jungkook’s short black hair. Jimin didn’t pull, just lightly scraped his nails against Jungkook’s scalp.

“You are special,” Jimin whispered, “A true outlier.”

“I think that just speaks to your small n number,” Jungkook said, still not quite managing the teasing tone of voice he wanted.

Taehyung’s lips pressed against Jungkook’s skin; the Guide went still, suddenly all his thoughts focusing on Taehyung kissing his neck. The contact felt so warm, so comforting and good, and-

Jungkook just-

He just wanted it. So much.

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” Taehyung whispered against Jungkook’s skin.

“That’s…” Jungkook trailed, eyes fluttering closed as Taehyung’s lips moved lower, towards the crux of his neck and shoulder. Jungkook wasn’t ticklish, but something about the touch just had him squirming. Just slightly. Just a little.

“Yes?” Jimin questioned, pressing a chaste kiss to Jungkook’s forehead, continuing to scratch Jungkook’s scalp. The relaxing sensation made him want to melt into the bed, but Taehyung was sucking his neck.

Taehyung was giving him a hickey.

It hurt.

It stung so good.

“I think you were trying to explain basic statistics to us, Cadet,” Jimin said, the tip of his nose tracing down the length of Jungkook’s, so intimate and sweet.

“I-” Jungkook gasped, feeling Taehyung’s teeth dig into his skin, and-

Jimin’s lips closed over his own, swallowing Jungkook’s gasp for air.

—

Eventually, Jimin and Taehyung had decided Jungkook deserved a break.

Jungkook was splayed out on his bed on his back, panting, staring at the ceiling, dazed. Jimin was curled on Jungkook’s left side and Taehyung on his right.

Jimin giggled, hiding his face in Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re so silly.”

“Me, sir?” Jungkook questioned, between labored breaths.

“Yep.”

Jungkook didn’t even have the motivation to ask Jimin to elaborate. Jungkook had just spent god knows how long being sandwiched between General Kim Taehyung and General Park. They took turns kissing him, barely giving him the chance to breathe, sucking hickies into his neck while the other kissed Jungkook dizzy.

This was something Jungkook had fantasized about for years. This was what Jungkook would have wet dreams about.

And it had just happened.

“Bonding with you is going to be so much fun,” Taehyung said, yawning and wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s waist.

“Right? He’s so responsive,” Jimin agreed, throwing a leg over Jungkook’s thigh.

Jungkook just laid there, trying his best to catch his breath and not think about f*cking Jimin and Taehyung. He couldn’t hide an erection like this.

Please god.

“Seokjin’s so mean for making us wait,” Jimin huffed.

“We can do other things though, we just have to minimize skin to skin,” Taehyung said.

“True, there’s always or-”

“Don’t we have to finish packing?” Jungkook interrupted, shoving Jimin and Taehyung off of him enough so that he could sit up.

He really couldn’t handle them continuing that line of conversation. Jungkook needed to be able to think.

“Oh. Oops.”

“We should do that.”

Jimin and Taehyung agreed, lazily getting out of Jungkook’s bed, too.

—

“I’m going to need at least a second change of my uniform,” Jungkook said, wary.

Taehyung turned around to offer Jungkook a prideful smile, “We’ll be putting you in white. You have no need for Cadet black any more.”

Jungkook blinked.

That wasn’t right.

“Bangtan Guides wear grey.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, “Are you telling me how to dress my own Guide?”

“… No?”

Jimin rocked Jungkook, lightly, subtle, as if he was a fussy child Jimin was attempting to soothe. “You’re ours. More than anyone else. More than anything.”

“We’ll dress you in silver and keep you in our arms. You’ll be so safe. Nothing will ever harm you. I promise.”

Jungkook blinked, thrown off by the sudden slew of promises. “I wasn’t worried about my safety. Everyone knows you keep your Guides safe. I’ve even seen footage of General Kim taking bullets for his Guide.”

Jimin sucked his teeth, and Taehyung walked away from the closet, walking forward to stand in right in front of Jungkook, looming over him, expression the most serious Jungkook’s seen it all day.

Taehyung’s breath fanned over Jungkook’s skin, lips inches away from Jungkook’s face.

“You’re better than the rest. I’ll never let the enemy even get a glimpse of you,” Taehyung murmured, hand coming to cup Jungkook’s jaw with a firm and domineering grip.

Damn, Jungkook thought, looking up at Taehyung in wonder, this imprinting business is no joke.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. We want you to have everything you wish,” Jimin said, lips pressing against the nape of Jungkook’s neck, making him shiver.

Stay focused, Jungkook hissed at himself.

“Can I ask for something else, then?” Jungkook questioned, blinking rapidly.

“Anything. Name it.”

“I don’t want you to take another Guide. Either of you. Just keep me, only me.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of one emotion, then another, and another in his eyes, before he offered Jungkook a small smile, “You can have anything you like, as I said.”

Lying, Jungkook thought, or avoiding me, at least.

But, that was alright for now. If Taehyung was seriously considering getting an auxiliary Guide, he’d be down with the others. Instead, he was here, packing Jungkook’s luggage like some kind of servant.

So for now, Jungkook would take it.

He had bigger problems at the present.

Like endearing himself to Jimin and Taehyung.

“…Thank you, sir,” Jungkook said softly, “I really appreciate it.”

Taehyung’s smile widened, filling with genuine pride, “You’re such a sweet boy. We’re so lucky to have caught you first.”

“Even if you belonged to someone else.” Jimin’s sudden words had Jungkook jumping with surprise in his arms, “I’d kill any Sentinel that would try to keep you from me.”

“As if any Sentinel would ever let him go voluntarily,” Taehyung scoffed.

“You both are severely over-estimating how popular I am with Sentinels. They don’t like me much at all.”

“Good.”

Jungkook sputtered.

“Less people we’ll have to beat off of you,” JImin cooed, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s temple, “Sweet little one.”

Taehyung and Jimin sighed, soft and infatuated, before settling back down. Taehyung went back to packing, while Jimin sat down on Jungkook’s bed, pulling the Guide into his lap.

Chapter 19: Chapter 17

Chapter Text

Chapter 17:

“You really won’t have to take much,” Taehyung told him, zipping up the third suitcase he’d packed for Jungkook, “We’ll buy everything you need.”

Jungkook nodded, slowly.

He supposed, for Bangtan, three luggage bags were nothing compared to their exorbitant wealth waiting for them in the Capital.

“I understand, thank you for your kindness,” Jungkook answered, closing his eyes.

Something felt wrong.

Nothing related to Taehyung or Jimin.

It was something else.

His aura shivered, once, twice, before it started and never stopped, something feeling definitively wrong.

His starry sky vibrated with an ominous warning- something wasn’t right.

And then, suddenly, Jimin went stiff- Jungkook could feel the Sentinel’s muscles underneath him tensing, Jimin’s gripping him tighter.

Taehyung straightened up from off the floor, exchanging a dark look with Jimin.

Anger, Jungkook recognized, he’s angry.

“W-what’s wrong?” Jungkook asked softly.

“Nothing, Little One. No need to worry,” Jimin soothed, voice strained.

Jungkook wriggled in Jimin’s arms, turning to make eye contact with the Sentinel. Something was wrong. His stomach had turned to stone. Phantom alarm bells were ringing in his head.

Something was wrong.

So wrong

“You told me you’d give me anything. I want an answer,” Jungkook said, firmly, “Or were you lying.”

Jimin swallowed, “Yoongi zoned for an interview… the cadet failed and Kivelan passed out trying to help him. They’re trying to find a another high-ranking Guide to help-”

Jungkook didn’t even think about it.

Instinct.

Fate.

Some bone-deep desire driven by obsessive adoration.

Jungkook rammed his elbow into Jimin’s abdomen, as hard as he could. Jimin’s arms loosened out of shock, rather than pain, but it was all the room Jungkook needed to slip out of Jimin’s grip and run.

My Sentinel, Jungkook thought, my Sentinel is zoning, he’s not safe, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.

His boots pounded against the floor as he raced down the Academy hallway. Behind him, he could hear Jimin and Taehyung get their bearings and start to chase after him.

“Stop!”

“It’s not safe!”

They shouted after him.

They wanted to stop him. They would stop him, if they caught up- and they were going to catch up.

They wanted to stop him from reaching his Sentinel.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding as he raced down the hallway.

He needed to stop them.

His blaster thumped against his thigh, a heavy weight in his belt.

Jungkook couldn’t just shoot them. That wouldn’t stop them, not unless Jungkook did enough to do lasting damage.

He shoved past students blocking his path. He couldn’t hurt them either.

They were getting closer.

Tens of meters away.

Closer.

Closer.

Jungkook ran through the atrium, massive chandeliers making the marble floor glow, and-

He didn’t even think, turning on a heel, raising his blaster with experienced hands. Rapid shots, one after the other.

First chandelier.

Second.

Third.

One after another, they crashed to the ground.

Students screamed, glass dust went flying, small fires littering the atrium-

Jungkook turned, continuing to run, buying himself enough precious seconds to reach the lounge room. His aura writhing, movements more and more violent the closer he was.

He burst into the room, heart stuttering at the sight of Yoongi, his Yoongi, collapsed on the floor.

He scrambled closer, hearing shouting behind him, hands grazing his clothes, but they were too late-

Jungkook fell to his knees, pressing a hand to Yoongi’s forehead-

I’m here.

Yoongi’s aura, dim grey threads, wrapped around each other like a nest of serpents reached out to Jungkook, welcoming, and Jungkook willingly tumbled forward, falling into the Sentinel’s mind.

Yoongi’s mind was nothing like Taehyung and Jimin’s; theirs had been welcoming, warm.

Yoongi’s mind seemed to thrum, alive like a rocket engine.

The air was muted and sharp all at once. Greys and blues surrounded him.

Jungkook looked around.

It was an engine room: wires, pipes, and circuit breakers surrounded him, a neat, complicated mess of engineering that Jungkook could never hope to understand. He didn’t have to; it was odd but there was a sense that the machinery will work without your interference, do not worry.

A sense of care, a distant sort of care, one-sided affection directed Jungkook’s way.

Jungkook had been certain Yoongi’s mind would be a terrifying house of horrors, considering how hot the man’s temper seemed to run.

But this was almost endearing.

Yoongi’s mind was an engine room, promising to run properly for Jungkook’s sake, assuring him it would care for his needs.

How sweet, Jungkook thought, standing up, off the floor, biting his lip.

He had no idea where Yoongi was, but he also couldn’t see any hints pointing to where the Sentinel might be.

“Tsk.”

He warily took a step forward, then another, randomly choosing a direction; his boots struck the metal plated floor, sounding off obnoxiously brassy footsteps, as he wandered further into the engine room.

He took two steps before the lights flickered off.

The room went dark, even the small circuit lights went out, flooding Jungkook in pitch black darkness.

The Guide blindly groped the air, warily trying to find the railing. His fingers brushed cool metal and he gripped it, tightly, pressing his back against it.

He couldn’t see a thing.

For a second, Jungkook was terrified.

And then underneath him, the floor lit up, a thin light strip glowed bright orange, marking the floor until it turned to the left into a hallway and disappearing out of sight.

The light broke up into pieces, moving like holiday lights, the light traveling forward.

The overhead lights slowly came back on, bathing Jungkook with the familiar sights of wires and pipes, with the orange track light still visible on the floor.

They probably led to where Yoongi was.

Jungkook was grateful for the hint, but he really didn’t understand why the damn lights had to go off.

Dramatic, Jungkook scoffed to himself walking forward, following the light, Sentinels are such drama queens.

As Jungkook walked down the halls, he became increasing confused.

Yoongi’s mind wasn’t organized like most Sentinels. Sentinels tended to lean on pictures, images, vividness.

Jimin’s carnival.

Taehyung’s museum.

But Yoongi’s were just thousands upon thousands of wires and circuits.

Jungkook didn’t understand how everything related, how it was all organized.

How could Yoongi ever find anything in this mess?

Jungkook stopped walking, moving towards one of the mechanism-laden walls. There was a small bronze panel at the top, near the ceiling.

It read: day made first 134340 model

Underneath it, there were paneled sections, labeled individually, emotions, context, related memories, people, prior knowledge, concerns, future impacts.

Each panel had dozens of different sized holes, some were plugged with wires of all sizes, some were filled with rubber tubing, some were connected to pipes.

Each wire had label: Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok, conversation with mechanic on planet 84930001, April 36, 1098, pride, love, narcissism, nitrogen engine, second mecha attempt, Jimin’s help, Crown Princess ordered, first mecha attempt: failed, second mecha attempt: failed, third mecha attempt: failed.

And underneath it all was a thick wire leaving the panel, labeled day made first 134340 model that ran along the wall and plugged into panels further along the wall.

Jungkook blinked, co*cking his head.

Huh.

Thoughts could be made in image or in word. It was far far more common to see imagery, but it seemed that Yoongi was a rare one.

His brain was organized by interconnected ideas.

Jungkook had never seen anything it.

It did, however, make Jungkook understand why Yoongi seemed to zone less often compared to his bondmates.

Yoongi would be able to make sense of a strong or vibrant stimulus as long as he could relate it to something else. His only issue would come from novel stimuli that couldn’t relate to anything else.

What in the world could have been novel to Yoongi at the academy?

Jungkook frowned.

He took a side-step, looking at the next panel.

It was labeled “First time I met Seokjin”

Jungkook briefly read though the wire labels: Seokjin, Mother, Min house, resentment towards Terrans, embarrassment, attraction, incredulousness, unapologetic, uncomfortable, loyalty to Rueleans time in cell 587Beta, Moon of Serenity, second prison sentence, military trial, Rueleans surrendered in the war, Daechwita blasters, execution date?, will he kill me?, bonding with Seokjin.

Jungkook blinked, staring at the mess of wires, trying to figure out just what the mess of words meant.

The Rueleans were a planet of intergalactic warlords, stealing from other planets, pillaging and burning from Alpha-tier nations and bringing their spoils back home. They made their weapons on-planet, and were far superior to anything COAL had been using at the time.

Daechwita blasters had been the first blaster rifle capable of killing someone immediately. They burned holes clear through anything they came in contact with. They had revolutionized war, making a lethal sport even worse. It had been the gasoline on an already blazing bonfire. Casualties sky-rocketed as everyone attempted to make their own versions or steal someone else's.

It had caused an out-roar across the galaxy, and it forced COAL to prioritize their defeat over everything else.

Supposedly, COAL had imprisoned the mastermind behind all of the Rueleans machinery for life.

But…

It seems like Yoongi was imprisoned on the Moon of Serenity- it was COALs worst prison. Inescapable by all accounts.

Even mass murderers weren’t bad enough to earn a spot there.

The only sentence prisoners on that moon had was crimes against COAL values.

Jungkook bit his lip.

The inventor of the Daechwita blasters had been branded as the devil himself. Revolutionizing and streamlining murder. The inventor of those blasters had to have been a genius.

Jungkook unholstered the blaster rifle at his hip, holding it in front of him. It was the standard COAL Terran 140503 model. No fancy names. COAL machines, whether weapons or otherwise, never had genuine names.

Jungkook had always wondered why that was… but, it the man creating them had named a weapon cursed to infamy, perhaps he’d be wary of ever granting any machinery such respect ever again.

140503 models had two settings, radiation and force. Suitable for cadets in training. Dangerous, painful, but nothing terrifying.

140506 models, though, meant for soldiers on the frontline, had three settings. Radiation, force, and burn. Jungkook had never thought about it before, but that setting worked remarkably similar to the banned Daechwita models, if not better.

Jungkook reholstered his rifle, everything slowly clicking together in his head.

Yoongi had made all the 1405 blasters.

Yoongi had made the Daechwita blasters.

Yoongi was a war criminal.

The man who had revolutionized war.

General Min Yoongi of Bangtan.

Jungkook felt faint. And aroused. But mostly faint. He fanned his blushing face, hoping his actual body wasn’t blushing as hard as he was.

He should find Yoongi, now.

Before he starts doing anything worse than blushing.

—

Jungkook continued following the orange light on the floor.

Many things made a lot more sense now. Especially why Jimin and Taehyung seemed wary of angering Yoongi.

Jungkook most definitely felt the same way.

Moreover, Yoongi had been assertive; assertive in a way that wasn’t quite the polite, mild-mannered tone of most Sentinel nobles. He’d been blunt and to-the-point. He’d been severe in his demand for respect.

It would make sense, then, that he hadn’t grown up around the same soirees and brunches that had so clearly molded Seokjin into a perfect heir to a Dukedom.

Yoongi had been quiet but sharp.

Jungkook sighed, turning left. He didn’t know how he’d face Yoongi without spontaneously combusting after this.

After Jungkook rounded the corner, he froze.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of a half-filled section of wall, absolutely surrounded by wires. There must have been thousands, lying on the ground, limp on the floor, tangling around the Sentinel’s legs, creating a mess up to the Sentinel’s hips. He was mumbling and muttering to himself, picking up one wire, reading the label, then throwing it to the ground.

“Sir?” Jungkook questioned softly, walking closer.

“Odd, odd, sweet, but not sweet enough, not real, artificial, but not alcohol or oil-based, pheromones? No, unfamiliar,” Yoongi was mumbling, digging through the wires as he did.

Jungkook took another step closer, raising his voice, “General Min?”

Yoongi clucked his tongue, and the pile of wires somehow got bigger, newer ones slithering into the pile, raising the mess up to Yoongi’s hips.

So this is how his zones work, Jungkook thought, he’s going to be swallowed by this mess.

Yoongi seemed entranced by his wires, hunched over as he read wire labels, not even recognizing Jungkook’s presence.

Jungkook swallowed, taking another step, so his legs were flush with the wires, as he extended a hand, palm forward, not touching the Sentinel, but just trying to catch his attention.

“General Min,” Jungkook repeated, “Please help me? I need help.”

Yoongi froze, blinking once, twice, before looking up, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh. Jeon. I apologize. I didn’t realize…” Yoongi trailed off, frowning slightly. “You really are gentle. I thought the boys were just exaggerating, they’re a little prone to that, but, no- You really are exceptional, huh?”

Jungkook blinked, frozen by the sudden compliment.

And then he blushed.

Deeply.

“Uh t-thank you, sir,” Jungkook stuttered.

“Of course,” Yoongi nodded, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this panel’s wiring.”

Yoongi looked down, as if about to refocus on his zone, and Jungkook instinctively moved forward, wrapping his hand around the Sentinel’s wrist.

Yoongi looked up at him, eyebrow raised, “Yes, Jeon?”

Jungkook’s face felt so unbearably hot, but his grip on Yoongi only tightened. Swallowing, Jungkook whispered, “What are you working on, sir?”

Yoongi leaned towards him, his own hand coming to rest on top of Jungkook’s covering it completely. “The Cadet that tried to guide me was wearing the most peculiar perfume.” His low voice sent a shiver down Jungkook’s spine.

“Oh?” he asked.

He felt a burst of jealousy at the thought of Yoongi recognizing another Guide’s perfume, even though it was ridiculous; Yoongi was a Sentinel, a powerful one, he could smell everyone’s perfume in a mile radius, if he so wanted.

But still.

Would it be so much to ask for Yoongi to have selective anosmia?

“Yes,” Yoongi told him, leaning close to Jungkook, intimidating and attractive all at once, “Nothing like yours, sweet, simple, comforting. Hers was an amalgamation of things I’ve never seen before.”

“Well, if this is the panel for that Cadet’s scent… Where’s the panel for mine?” Jungkook questioned, “I want to see what you think of me.”

“You got here all by yourself,” Yoongi squeezed Jungkook’s hand, “I’m sure you can find your way, Jeon. I’m just a little busy with this.”

“I really need help, though.”

Yoongi gave Jungkook a look. “I’m not like the boys, Jeon. I can see how capable you are. I can see it in the muscle lining your arms and the ambition in your eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve killed someone to get what you want.”

Kill someone is probably a bit much, Jungkook thought, the worst I’ve done is humiliate people… Though it might be nice to throttle the Dean to death, now that I think about it.

“I’m not asking as an Academy student,” Jungkook said, lips quirking up, “I’m asking as Jimin and Taehyung’s personal Guide. Please help me?”

Yoongi paused.

His eyes narrowed.

“I want to get back to Jimin and Taehyung as soon as possible,” Jungkook said, widening his eyes, “I’m sure they’re worried. Please?”

Yoongi tsked, shaking his head, as he dropped Jungkook’s hand and stepped out of the mess of wires.

“Fine,” Yoongi told him, shaking free of a few clinging ropes around his ankle, “I’ll help you. Only for my boys.”

“Of course, General Min. Thank you for your kindness.”

Yoongi frowned, half-hearted irritation on his features, as he extended a hand out for Jungkook to hold, “You’re going to be quite the manipulator when you grow up, huh?”

Jungkook held Yoongi’s hand, heart skipping a beat as the Sentinel’s long, elegant fingers intertwined in his own.

“I’m already an adult, General Min.”

“There’s a big difference between being twenty three years old and being grown, Jeon,” Yoongi sighed, “I’m nearing ninety. Trust me. I’d know.”

“Gross,” Jungkook scrunched his nose, all the while his dick throbbed at what perfect daddy material Yoongi was.

“Thanks,” Yoongi said dryly, “Come on, I’ll take you where you belong.”

“Wait!”

Yoongi sighed, lips twitching as he looked back at Jungkook, “Yes, Jeon? Do you need me to carry you, too?”

Jungkook scoffed, loud, embarrassed, and mildly pathetic, before waving a hand toward the panel, “What- what was that panel about?”

“It was about that Cadet’s perfume, I told you that.”

“Right. It’s just perfume,” Jungkook slipped his hand out of Yoongi’s grasp, “And I’m sure I smell better, anyway-”

And with the embarrassment from his words, Jungkook quickly slipped out of Yoongi’s mind, tumbling out of the Sentinel’s twisting black aura, back into reality.

Chapter 20: Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Chapter 18:

Jungkook felt the stone floor digging into his knees as he became re-aware of his body. He was kneeling over Yoongi, his hand pressed to the Sentinel’s forehead. Yoongi’s eyes were closed.

People were talking. Irritated voices.

Jungkook straightened his sore back, looking around to see Taehyung and Jimin being hugged by Seokjin and Namjoon. Both of them were writhing in Seokjin and Namjoon’s arms, demanding to be released, to be allowed to see if Jungkook was okay. But the older, taller Sentinel’s arms didn’t budge from around their waists.

“He’s still Guiding Yoongi,” Namjoon snapped, pulling Taehyung close. Jungkook watched, seeing Namjoon firmly tug Taehyung closer to his chest, trying to wrangle the younger Sentinel into hiding his face in his neck, “It’s dangerous to touch him right now.”

“He’s mine, sir,” Taehyung whined, “Please.”

“And you’re mine, so hush. Hoseok’s taking care of both of them-”

Everyone seemed to freeze, eyes snapped towards Jungkook, as everyone likely heard Jungkook’s eyes blink open.

“Little one!” Jimin cooed, jumping forward, before Seokjin’s arms caught him around the waist. Jimin let out a surprised little ‘oof’ as the breath wheezed out of him.

A hand pressed against Jungkook’s forehead. Jungkook jerked in surprise, before realizing Hoseok was right behind him, kneeling on the floor.

“Sorry, Cadet Jeon,” Hoseok said, voice calm and settling, “I was just making sure you remained stable.”

“It’s okay, General,” Jungkook whispered, doing his very best to suppress the urge to lean into the touch.

“Any aches or pains?” Hoseok questioned, as his other hand traced odd patterns through Jungkook’s hair, “No complaint is too small.”

Jungkook paused for a second, taking stock of himself. He felt fine.

“I’m okay, General. Did I take a long time?”

“It’s only been a minute or so,” Hoseok said, calm and reassuring, “We were just worried.”

Jungkook nodded.

“You caused a rather big ruckus on your way here,” Seokjin said, voice prim, but void of the judgement Jungkook had been expecting, “If you don’t mind explaining yourself.”

Jungkook blinked, looking up at Seokjin, who’s blank expression had Jungkook’s mind stuttering; the Cadet opened his mouth to answer-

Only for hands to reach up and tug at him.

Jungkook fell forward onto Yoongi’s chest for a brief second, before vertigo hit him, and he was rolling-

Jungkook ended up on his back, Yoongi hovering over him, palms bracketing Jungkook’s face and knees bracketing Jungkook’s hips. He gave Jungkook a smile.

A sharp smile.

The kind of sharp smile Jungkook would think would fit perfectly on the man who invented the Daechwita blasters.

The kind of man responsible for the exponential increase in war fatalities across the galaxy.

Jungkook’s Sentinel.

His perfect match.

“Don’t be so upset with him,” Yoongi grinned, teeth sharp and white, “He did what he needed to in order to get what he wanted.”

“He shot three chandeliers, set fire to the main atrium, and almost injured Taehyung and Jimin,” Seokjin sniped, “If only for the last charge alone, I do believe he deserves a great degree of recoil. A Guide should know better.”

Yoongi’s smile seemed to get brighter and darker all at once as he looked down at Jungkook. “Fires? You wanted me that badly, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook blinked, finding himself unable to breathe under the sheer weight of the Sentinel’s stare.

Yoongi was startling this close. His skin was human-smooth, albeit covered in tiny freckles. His pupils were regular circles, as well. There wasn’t anything that specifically set off any flags.

The Min line wasn’t a particularly famous house; they didn’t have a direct line to another race, as far as Jungkook knew. Moreover, Yoongi could have gotten any range of mods after reaching maturity. There were no tell-tale imperfections that gave away what Yoongi was.

But his movements alone; the strength behind them- there was no way that was fully human.

“Uhh…”

“He could have hurt Taehyung and Jimin,” Seokjin repeated, voice harshening, “That’s unacceptable.”

Jungkook considered Seokjin’s statement for a second. Could I have hurt Taehyung and Jimin? But as soon as Jungkook considered the thought, he dismissed it. Jimin and Taehyung have fought much much worse than a fire and a runaway Terran Guide.

Yoongi had been zoned. It was Jungkook’s job to guide him. That took priority.

“They let him get away,” Yoongi said, seeming almost delighted by the fact. He maintained eye-contact with Jungkook; intelligent and analyzing, as if Jungkook was a puzzle, and Yoongi was attempting to sort through the pieces. “Our boys should have kept him on a tighter leash.”

“Yoongi-”

“I’m going to kiss you,” Yoongi told Jungkook, cutting Seokjin off, telling rather than asking, before leaning down.

His kiss was quick, firm, pushing into Jungkook’s mouth and making him whine, before roughly biting down on his lower lip, harder and harder, until he had Jungkook’s hips wriggling from rapidly increasing arousal.

Yoongi thoroughly dominated him, before pulling away, leaving Jungkook’s lips throbbing and his tummy warm. Jungkook was breathing heavily, reeling, head feeling fuzzy.

General Min, the modern equivalent to a god of war, was looming over him.

“Definitely a little firecracker,” Yoongi said, sounding ever so pleased with himself, “So much ambition in those eyes. We’ll have fun with you.”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon warned.

The Sentinel looked up, raising an eyebrow at Namjoon, visibly unimpressed, “Sir?”

“His actions are unacceptable. I expect better from the Cadet guiding Taehyung and Jimin. Do not encourage his behavior.” Seokjin said, giving Jungkook a look, “Namjoon just told you to be obedient. Are you so incapable of following orders?”

Jungkook shivered under the weight of Seokjin’s glare, but Yoongi didn’t move an inch.

“Seokjin-”

Namjoon took a step forward, protective, “I don’t think you have the right to refer to him informally right now.”

“He’s my mate.”

“And you’re protecting someone who disobeyed one of my direct orders.”

“He’s our pretty little Guide,” Yoongi smirked challenging, “Surely, such a tiny thing couldn’t cause you trouble, hm? You’re a Kim Sentinel, after all.”

Jungkook watched Namjoon’s jaw twitch.

Seokjin answered, “The crux of the issue is the unnecessary danger he put my bondmates in.”

“And how reckless he was with himself. He could have died,” Namjoon added, tone creeping into condescending.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, leaning down to run his nose along Jungkook’s jaw, sweet and possessive. “You were right,” Yoongi whispered, voice so soft it was just breath barely shaped into words, “You do smell better, baby.”

Jungkook melted, body going limp against the cool floor, lips parting as more and more of Yoongi’s weight was used to pin him down, keep him still.

Perhaps this was heaven, and Jungkook had died attempting to guide Yoongi.

It must be.

“Ask Jimin and Taehyung if they took offense at Jungkook’s actions. You know how protective I am over my boys, sir. If they have a problem,” Yoongi’s nipped at the skin just above Jungkook’s high neck collar, “I’ll burn it to a crisp.”

Seokjin sighed, and Jungkook knew the man had lost the argument.

Because it was clear, just from the brief look Jungkook had gotten of Jimin and Taehyung before Yoongi had repinned him to the ground, they certainly didn’t have hard feeling towards him over his behavior. Instead, they seemed more concerned over his well-being than any regard for themselves.

Imprinting, Jungkook thought, was no joke.

It certainly wasn’t- Yoongi, the General Min, who had been glaring at him, telling him how little he trusted Jungkook, who chided Jimin and Taehyung for taking sexual liberties, was currently straddling Jungkook’s hips, sucking hickies into his neck.

“Just as I thought,” Yoongi hummed, before directing his words to Seokjin, “I’m a firm believer in punishment, sir. You know this. I’ll happily whip little Jungkookie’s back raw.” Yoongi’s words warmed to a mocking little coo. “But he does have to earn it.”

“He’s mine!” Jimin.

Jungkook could hear rustling, as if Jimin had started to fight against Seokjin’s grip again, though Jungkook’s view was hindered by the looming Sentinel above him.

“And you’re mine, precious,” Yoongi’s voice was saccharine, but in a condescending bitter way that only sweetened the taste, “You belong to me. Your toys belong to me. Jungkookie is yours because I allow it.”

“Still. You can’t just- just hurt him.” Taehyung.

Yoongi sucked another hickey into Jungkook’s neck. The pain felt so warm, so good. Jungkook was desperately trying to will away the growing erection in his pants, eyes squeezed shut and lip bitten with the effort.

“I give you little ones lessons, don’t I? He’s even smaller than you, baby- Of course, he’s going to need a little direction.”

“B-but-”

Yoongi pulled away, looking down at Jungkook, knife-like smile, looking at Jungkook like a snake who’s found a scared little bunny.

“But, there’s no need to worry about punishments right now. We don’t want to scare the little one off, do we?”

Jungkook swallowed, heart pounding, head throbbing, dick twitching.

He…

He needed a time out.

A moment.

A lunch break.

Something.

“I…” Jungkook trailed off, turning his head, finally breaking gaze with Yoongi.

To his left were the limp, crumpled bodies of the Cadet and Kivelan.

For a brief second, Jungkook hoped they were dead.

Then he saw their chests rise and fall and resigned himself to their continued existence.

“They’ll be okay.” Hoseok. “Don’t worry.”

Jungkook hadn’t been worried. Hoseok was the personal physician of the Crown. Jungkook was sure it was nothing short of impossible to die in Hoseok’s presence. But still- one could hope.

Jungkook nodded before his eyes fluttered shut.

He had just wanted a moment to process everything that had happened.

To think about Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi. To try and figure out why Namjoon disliked him so much. To try and feel guilt about the atrium. To…

To figure out…

He really should…

He needed…

Really…

Black.

—

Endeared, Yoongi watched Jimin and Taehyung start squirming again like little brats in Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s grip. The poor things seemed so worried over their precious Guide that Yoongi couldn’t help but smile.

Though everything in Yoongi didn’t want to pull away from his Guide, his heart still tugged at the sight of his boys being so worried.

So Yoongi sat on the floor, right next to his his sleeping Guide, legs crossed, smiling up at his boys.

“He’s fine. I promise, just sleeping.”

“He’s had a very long day. It’s normal for unmodded Guides to get tired. They don’t have the energy we do,” Hoseok added, reassuring, “It’s not Guide fatigue, I promise.”

Yoongi smirked at Jimin and Taehyung, “But maybe if you’re polite, Seokjin and Namjoon might let you go.”

Namjoon gave him an unamused look, clearly saying that there was no amount of whining that would move him. Yoongi didn’t pay him much mind.

On the battlefield, Namjoon’s word was law.

Off of it, it was more of a heavily encouraged suggestion, one that Yoongi could wear away with enough flirting. Or a blowj*b. Namjoon was always such a whor* for blowj*bs.

“Joonie, sir, please?” Taehyung whined.

“Jinnie, sir, please?”

Seokjin sighed, releasing Jimin. The young Sentinel scrambled forward, falling to the floor immediately laying on top of Jungkook. They could all see the tension immediately leave Jimin’s body, as he nuzzled his nose into Jungkook’s neck.

Cute.

“Joonie,” Taehyung’s voice became more petulant, hands tugging at Namjoon’s clothes and hair, “Joonie, sir, please, I wanna cuddle him, too.”

“Is that how you talk to me, Taehyung?” Namjoon’s voice was firm, not the casual irritation he had with Yoongi, but the strict dominance he held with younger members.

Yoongi could wriggle out of rules.

Jimin and Taehyung were bound by them.

So as the incredibly intelligent person Taehyung was, the Sentinel stopped wriggling, turning around in Namjoon’s arms so that they could make eye-contact. They all heard Taehyung’s low voice pitch up a couple notes, as he wrapped his arms around Namjoon’s neck.

“Sirrr,” Taehyung pleaded, hiking his leg up Namjoon’s hip, pressing his lips to Namjoon’s cheek.

Yoongi scoffed, watching as, predictably, Namjoon’s gaze softened, releasing his bondmate and letting him scamper after Jimin. Both Sentinels curled around their sleeping Guide, clingy.

Namjoon was weak in the most interesting of ways.

But then again, Yoongi thought, pulling the cuddling bundle of three closer, so that their heads were resting in his lap, I’m also weak for these brats.

Yoongi ran his fingers through their hair, content to loom over them protectively and watch them lavish puppy-like affection on each other.

So cute, he thought as Jungkook hummed a little in his sleep and pressed his nose into Jimin’s hair, while Taehyung swung a leg over Jungkook’s hip.

He sat in silence, taking stock of their heartbeats, ensuring they were comfortable. Safe.

All three of them.

His boys and their baby.

Yoongi lost track of time, smiling down at his charges with a helplessly besotted expression that would have him embarrassed in any other situation.

“Yoongi’s imprinted, as well, and far stronger than typical of him,” Seokjin said, “This makes three deeper-than-typical matches out of six.”

“He did say he could guide all of us,” Yoongi reminded them, looking up at his mates, “He’s not the type to make statements he can’t back up.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, ignoring Yoongi’s words to look at Seokjin and Hoseok, “We really need to be careful. Even if, hypothetically, Jeon’s unprecedentedly capable of forming multiple bonds; he’s still a Guide. He has easily-approached limits.”

“Agreed,” Hoseok murmured, “Though I think he’s definitely earned the benefit of the doubt. I trust Yoongi’s judgement if nothing else.”

“Still,” Seokjin murmured, “He’s far too odd to be trustworthy. I am concerned. I want him gone.”

“I am undoubtedly concerned, too, but I don’t think it would be considerate to separate them from Jeon at this point.”

“Namjoon has a point,” Hoseok pointed out, “At this point, separating them would be cruel.”

“I’m not saying that we separate them. I’m not one to deny my bondmates anything, even the option of sharing a Guide between three people… I’m simply saying that we need to be cautious. Over-cautious, even, to compensate for the undoubtedly blind devotion these three idiots are going to show Jeon in the coming days.”

Yoongi looked up at Seokjin, “Don’t call my boys idiots, sir.”

“You’re an idiot, too, Yoongi. Your smile belongs on a schoolboy.”

Yoongi huffed, but didn’t argue, lowering his head back down, aware enough to realize that his thoughts were compromised.

“Taehyung and Jimin seem happy,” Namjoon said gruffly, “I’d like to try and keep them that way- and keep Jungkook alive.”

“I can look into his background, sir” Hoseok offered, “And I’ll test Cadet Jeon’s abilities as soon as we’re back in the Capital. If you’re worried about breaking him, the least I can do is tell you where his breaking point is.”

“Make him less breakable,” Namjoon added, “He’s full Terran. He’s weak.”

“Most Guides tend to be,” Yoongi looked up, defending his sleeping Guide’s honor, “They don’t come from noble family lines like we do. Not everyone can be a Kim, Namjoon.”

“If you bring up my family one more time, Min, I’ll make you regret it. Imprint or not.” Namjoon’s voice harshened, “I’m indulging you. Do not push me.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, lips pressing together, significantly chided. “Sorry.”

Truthfully, Yoongi knew that Namjoon’s family was an extremely touchy subject. He knew that Namjoon didn’t enjoy talking about it. Didn’t enjoy the association.

Yoongi, normally, made his best effort to avoid the topic and avoid stirring the bad memories the reminder brought up. However, now Yoongi had a very vulnerable little one in his lap, bundled between his boys, Cadet Jeon Jungkook needed Yoongi’s protection more than anything Yoongi had ever come across.

He’d protect Jungkook from everything.

Including Namjoon.

Except that was ridiculous, because there was never a reason to fight Namjoon.

Namjoon adored him; he gave Yoongi’s life purpose.

“I want him sturdy,” Namjoon told Hoseok, “If they want to keep him a long while, he needs to be capable of being kept. None of that aesthetic trash. I want him strong. Or as strong as a little Guide like him can be, anyways.”

Hoseok nodded, eyes sliding over Jungkook’s sleeping figure, “I agree. Some endodermis, some actin junction modifications, and stem cell proliferation go a long way in making anyone less prone to injury.”

“Not just that, I want him stronger, faster, better. The best help you can give him. I don’t care how many bodies you need to harvest from to get you what you need.”

Hoseok gave Namjoon a wry look, “Already resulting to murder? Sounds like someone’s getting attached.”

“He’s weak.”

“Well, regardless, thank you for the offer, but I think I’ll have more than enough to begin with. Maybe I’ll need your… procurement services for some finishing tweaks. Any other requests? Seokjin, sir?”

Seokjin sighed.

“Just… keep an eye out. Seeing Jimin and Taehyung upset makes my heart ache. Especially when I know this will end badly.”

Seokjin shook his head, small frown on his lips as he looked at the four people on the floor. There were times that Seokjin seemed so soft; so parental, like the sweet-hearted head of a house, the center of a home.

It was times like this, one arm hooked around Hoseok’s arm, head resting on Namjoon’s shoulder, that Seokjin reminded them all why they were all here,

Why they all became part of Bangtan.

The Bangtan banner may have been formed by Namjoon, but Seokjin was the one who turned a coat of arms into a family crest.

“Of cour-”

The doors crashed open.

Chapter 21: Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Chapter 19:

The heavy doors opened with a bang, slamming against the walls, as a woman, the Dean, strode into the room. The sulfuric scent of smoke and heated air rushed into the room along with her. Yoongi could see tiny crystal dust coating her clothes, likely from the shattered chandeliers. The same dust covered Jimin and Taehyung. A faint dusting of soot darkened her skin ever so slightly, dimming the otherwise sickly white tone of her skin.

Jungkook must have done a remarkable degree of damage to the atrium, for the rubble to be sticking to the Dean’s clothes in such a way. Yoongi was excited to see it. He was flattered at the amount of effort such a little Guide had managed to exert, just to guide him out of a zone.

The Dean’s heels- not uniform regulation- clicked obnoxiously against the floor.

Yoongi frowned, already irritated that she had burst into the room like this.

His Guide was tired; sleeping. She was disturbing him, and was making absolutely no effort to quiet her steps.

Before Yoongi could speak, though, Namjoon was already stepping forward, standing in front of her, blocking her path further into the room and impeding her sight of the rest of his vulnerable husbands.

Namjoon, clad in silvery grey, stood arms held behind his back, a foot taller than the Dean, and several inches broader. But, more than that, it was the commanding presence Namjoon had. It was the way a single one of his steps forward, seemed to have the Dean visibly shrinking.

Yoongi watched the infinitesimal micro-twitches of the Dean’s face become more irregular and focused around her frown lines, as Namjoon straightened to his full height. Yoongi understood, even if he didn’t personally relate; objectively, Namjoon was terrifying.

He was a military Kim. He was inarguably the biggest and the baddest of the military Kims.

He could protect his spouses when he needed to.

And right now, with Taehyung and Jimin newly imprinted and sleeping peacefully, a protector was definitely needed.

Jimin and Taehyung were still young, after all; sleep didn’t come easy to them. In fact, it came rarely, after long, lulling hours of staring at the ceiling, in the absence of all sound and stimulation, after they’ve been thoroughly exhausted. They were too sensitive to the world around them; it took a great deal of effort to acclimate them to the constant incoming stimulation enough to get them to sleep.

So when Jimin and Taehyung did finally fall asleep- best believe Namjoon would attempt to preserve their peace with all his best effort.

“Dean Lancin.” Namjoon’s voice was low, quiet.

The Dean didn’t appear to hear him; her shrill voice calling out into the room. “Is that- Cadet Jeon! Get away from them! You’ve embarrassed the Academy enough today-”

Jimin and Taehyung jerked into motion. They woke up. Yoongi felt his temples throb with irritation. She woke up my boys. Yoongi watched Jimin and Taehyung, now awake, tightening themselves around Jungkook, preemptively ensuring that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to move away from them. Their eyes fluttered open.

Jimin, less curious, simply opened them enough to get reassurance that Yoongi was still looming over them, before closing them again. Taehyung, the more jumpy of the two, raised his head enough to see where the voice had come from; relaxing as he saw Namjoon’s frame standing between him and the disturbance.

Jungkook didn’t wake up, at least. Thankfully. Yoongi didn’t think any of them wanted to see what Jimin and Taehyung would be like, overprotective and grumpy from being woken up from their nap too early, if their Guide was disturbed.

After a final look, reassuring himself that all three of his boys were fine, Yoongi eyes narrowed, legs sliding underneath himself, about to stand up himself and join Namjoon.

The tone that woman had used was absolutely unacceptable.

It appeared that the Dean had some personal bias against Jungkook, and Yoongi simply would not allow that to continue. Yoongi had no tolerance for disrespect without cause- especially to his newest little Guide.

No one talks about my boys’ baby like that.

“Dean Lancin.” Namjoon’s voice was firmer this time; louder, now that he wasn’t attempting to stay quiet for Jimin and Taehyung’s sake. His feet were anchored to the ground, making it clear the Dean couldn’t move another inch into the room. He took a calculated step left, perfectly blocking her view of Jungkook entirely.

“General Kim,” she greeted, her irritating voice wavering with stress, “I am so sorry for the inconvenience. I assure you that I will adequately deal with the situation and dole out harsh punishment for the misbehavior.”

Misbehavior? Yoongi thought, looking back at the previous Cadet, who had failed their interview, who had been the reason Yoongi had needed Jungkook’s aid in the first place. They failed to guide me, but that doesn’t exactly count as misbehavior.

Yoongi breathed in through his nose, and the smell of sulfur, reminded him of the fires burning in the atrium.

If anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be us, Yoongi thought, for causing such a fuss. My little Guide is a little brash under pressure, it seems.

“Not at all,” Namjoon told her, “Many Cadets struggle to remove us from our zones, please don’t blame the Cadet for her performance. Though if you could call a medic team for both Guides, they ought to be monitored until they wake.”

“It’s only mild Guide fatigue!” Hoseok added, voice gaining that chipper bedside tone that always appeared when Hoseok began speaking as a doctor, “For the Cadet, at least. Chronic for Kivelan, of course. But, they should still be monitored, just in case; their risk for cardiac arrest is a little elevated right now.”

“Oh,” the Dean said, slowly. Yoongi could hear her eyes flutter rapidly. “No- no, I meant Cadet Jeon. He’s an incredibly poor student with a history of delinquent behavior. He’s the most belligerent student I’ve ever had, but I’d never have thought he’d resort to arson when you didn’t chose him.”

Silence.

Jimin and Taehyung’s arms tightened around Jungkook.

“I’ll make sure he’s punished severely for this. A hundred lashes of wire will straighten anyone-”

A hundred lashes. Of wire.

A common punishment for third-strike infractions for Sentinels. Big, broad, three hundred pound Sentinels who could take much much worse.

Doling that same punishment to a Guide.

Rare. Precious. Gifted through sheer genetic chance.

His Guide.

One of a kind.

Able to keep up.

His little doe-eyed, ambitious, arsonist Guide.

I’m going to kill her, snap every single disk in her spine-

Crack.

Yoongi glanced down, seeing that his fingers had dug holes in the marble floor; his index and middle fingers buried in the stone up to the second knuckle.

The rest of Bangtan undoubtedly heard the crunch of rock, but Jimin and Taehyung were tensed, huddling over Jungkook like protective shields. Their eyes were closed, but their faces were puckered in frowns. Upset. And the sight of both of his boys seeming so unsettled was the only thing keeping him on the floor, rather than rising up and ripping that woman to shreds-

“I see,” Namjoon said, voice void of the inflection that Yoongi wanted there. Namjoon clearly didn’t care enough; he didn’t care at all, if his voice was so calm. Namjoon’s temper was quick to spark, roaring into a bonfire within seconds; if Namjoon was calm, he didn’t care a lick about what was going on. “Is there anything Jeon has done to merit such a harsh reaction?”

Yoongi’s fingers dug even further into the floor; protective indignation rising up in his chest, ready to defend his Guide-

Namjoon carefully raised a hand behind his back, raising up three of his fingers out out of view from the Dean.

Wait.

An official command.

The way Namjoon gave orders on a battlefield.

Yoongi exhaled, holding his position. Despite it all- Yoongi trusted Namjoon’s decisions with his life.

The Dean hissed a breath, Yoongi could practically hear her dry lips crack as she spoke, “He’s a terrible Guide and acts out for attention to make up for it. He pretended to faint with Guide distress in the middle of a hallway, he’s an embarrassment to the academy, and I’d send him home in a heartbeat if it wouldn’t ruffle so many feathers.”

“And why would it ruffle feathers?” Namjoon’s voice was hard. The kind of tone Yoongi heard from him when he was addressing the Senate or facing a battlefield.

Oh, Yoongi thought.

Namjoon was pissed.

Not just irritated or tetchy.

He was furious.

Chapter 22: Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

“Somehow he ended up having one of the best applications, sponsors, compatibility letters, and Crown recommendation letters that I’ve ever seen. I can’t just send him home,” the Dean said, voice becoming meek.

“Do you think the Crown falsified his recommendation?” Namjoon took a step forward, forcing the Dean to take one step back.

“What? No, General Kim, of course not-”

“So then, he deserves to be here. Does he not? Regardless of his guiding abilities,” Namjoon’s voice rose up, like he was asking a question, but his condescending tone left no space for an answer.

“Certainly that was no fault of the Crown for thinking in such a way, but military academies exist to match Guides with their Sentinels. A poor Guide has no place in Vierna-”

“Military academies exist to mold Cadets into the best soldiers they can be. Whether that means matching them into a pair, teaching them astrophysics, or increasing their physical prowess. If you think Guides with subpar abilities have no place in Vierna, I’m loathe to think what you think of the Nulls in your care.”

“No- General Kim, no, I respect Nulls, they’re just as valuable as we are- of course-”

“So your discrimination is only towards Guides?”

“Yes. No. General Kim, please-”

“The Crown Princess will be loathe to know that the Dean of her most prestigious academies is not only a bigot towards our most vulnerable populations, but also incredibly disrespectful towards her superiors.”

So that’s what’s pissed Namjoon off, Yoongi thought, understanding. Namjoon’s strong-willed morals were here to fight. Though, I doubt the Crown Princess will give much of a f*ck.

“D-disrespectful, how, wh- General Kim?”

Namjoon finally raised his voice, tone not nearly as harsh as it could be, but even the mild hint of a threat had the Dean’s heart skipping not one, but multiple beats.

“Did you, or did you not barge into this room without permission, not address myself or any of my mates correctly, and curse at our Guide?”

Yoongi’s shoulders relaxed- our Guide.

Namjoon was not only on Yoongi’s side- he was on Jungkook’s. Namjoon would take care of it; Yoongi and his Guide were safe.

Yoongi allowed his stress-response to ease. The adrenaline coursing through his veins began to ebb. It was a good thing, too; his heart, who’s ventricles constantly expel 90% of it’s end-diastolic volume, burned through calories at a ridiculous rate when Yoongi was stressed, and Yoongi would rather not have his Guide see him use an IV during their first impressions.

“Y-your Guide?” the Dean repeated weakly.

“Cadet Jeon was able to guide not only one, but three of my bondmates back to back. Regardless of his apparent lack of common sense and self-preservation, he is very clearly talented. He is undeniably one of the most unique Guides this academy has ever produced- and yet, here you are, telling me that you refused him medical aid when he needed it.”

The Dean sputtered, scrambling to try to find words to make any excuses that would relieve her of guilt. She reached out, as if to tug at Namjoon’s clothes, before stopping herself. Good that she did, too; Seokjin didn’t take kindly to people touching his husbands without permission.

“I-”

Namjoon snapped his fingers, pointing at her; a stern authoritarian. “Not another word out of you. Make sure these two Guides get proper medical attention. We’ve chosen three other Guides, make sure they’re prepared to leave by the top of the hour. Dismiss the rest of the Cadets. Make sure to thank them for their time. Properly and without your bias. And- I don’t want to see your face the rest of the day. Am I clear?”

“Yes, General Kim,” the Dean bowed, low, back-breakingly low, voice pathetically soft, before she scampered out. Her heels clicked a pathetic little rhythm, before the door shut behind her.

The door closed behind her and Namjoon exhaled.

His broad shoulders rolled, before he tipped his head back, eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Inhale.

Exhale.

All of Bangtan went silent, watching.

It wasn’t their place to intervene. Not when Seokjin was here.

The moment the doors closed, Seokjin was stepping forward, movements smooth and confident. Seokjin wasn’t nearly as stocky as Namjoon, though he was a little taller. Seokjin didn’t have the musculature or the commanding presence that Namjoon did, and yet, it was almost effortless, the way Seokjin pulled Namjoon into his arms. Namjoon went without reservation, submitting to the embrace, head resting back on Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin smoothed his hands up and down Namjoon’s biceps, slow and comforting.

“You did good,” Seokjin said. His voice was silk soft, comforting in a slippery sort of way; it was easy to stumble into the web Seokjin was about to spin. “You kept so calm. I’m proud of you, baby.”

Namjoon let out a deep breath. His eyes stayed closed.

Namjoon’s vital signs weren’t that far from baseline. To someone who didn’t know better, they’d likely see nothing wrong.

However, for Namjoon, even the slightest variations from baseline were undesirable.

“She got you all worked up for nothing. All for that silly little Guide,” Seokjin chided, voice ever so warm and sweet, as he pressed his lips close to Namjoon’s neck, “She bumped your blood pressure just a little, didn’t she?”

Namjoon hummed softly, keeping his eyes closed; Seokjin’s thumbs rubbed smoothing circles into the sides of Namjoon’s broad shoulders. Namjoon’s frame gradually melted against Seokjin’s; Yoongi watched Seokjin bear more and more of Namjoon’s not insubstantial weight without ever needing to shift his posture.

Yoongi often forgot just how effortlessly strong Seokjin was. In moments like this, he remembered. Namjoon, who likely weighed close three hundred pounds, was using Seokjin like a wall, and Seokjin was absolutely unfazed.

“Everything is absolutely fine,” Seokjin murmured softly.

Namjoon was such an intimidating figure; his passionate indignation was such a fundamental part of his personality- it was easy to forget just how detrimental it was.

Namjoon’s anger- while quite literally capable of inspiring an entire galaxy- poisoned him. Namjoon’s body didn’t process excitatory hormones properly. Instead of breaking them down entirely, his body only partially processed them by Camira enzymes Namjoon was genetically engineered with.

This meant that Namjoon’s body was able to create a strong excitatory response quickly. His blood could quickly become very saturated with epinephrine and cortisol.

However, the way Namjoon’s enzymes broke these hormones down created a bi-product: reactive oxygen species. For the Camira race that these enzymes originally belonged to, reactive oxygen species weren’t much of an issue. For humans, ROS were toxic.

Incredibly toxic.

At high levels, they could cause all sorts of cell damage; they could cause DNA damage.

Namjoon was modded with Camira reducing enzymes that catalyzed ROS into non-toxic products; however, these weren’t the most efficient. Camira livers, where these reducing enzymes were localized, were fairly basic, with a pH of 9. These reducing enzymes were in Namjoon’s blood, however, which held at a typical Terran pH of 7.

Meaning that even if Namjoon did have the antidote to the toxin; it wasn’t a very effective antidote, especially when there was very high levels of toxin in his system.

Namjoon wouldn’t suddenly drop dead from high ROS levels, but the DNA damage could eventually build up, shaving years or decades off of Namjoon’s life span.

This was a possibility that Seokjin absolutely refused to tolerate.

Seokjin went to extreme lengths to ensure Namjoon stayed calm. The younger ones only saw the calming touches and gentle words; Yoongi, though, had seen Seokjin many decades ago, when Seokjin hadn’t yet perfected his manipulations. Seokjin had been… a different breed of devil, altogether.

Namjoon was simply not allowed to get angry.

Not under Seokjin’s watchful eye.

So, it wasn’t a surprise that Seokjin was immediately trying to calm Namjoon down as soon as he got the opportunity.

“Yeah,” Namjoon murmured, immediately surrendering himself to Seokjin’s ministrations, allowing Seokjin to pull back back towards the couches. Namjoon followed Seokjin’s leading hands like a child, or maybe an over-grown puppy. A hand on Namjoon’s hip was all the instruction Namjoon needed to turn around to face Seokjin and straddle Seokjin’s lap.

Namjoon practically fell into Seokjin, heavy thighs bracketing Seokjin’s. It was hard to see Seokjin past Namjoon’s frame, and yet, there was something undeniably submissive about Namjoon’s posture.

Truthfully, Yoongi really couldn’t understand it.

He could understand part of it. He could understand the undeniable pull that Seokjin had. The warm, melty feeling one felt when they had the entirety of Seokjin’s attention. That Yoongi understood.

However, the desire to baby Namjoon so thoroughly? That was absolute incomprehensible to Yoongi. Even just the sight of Namjoon so submissive just felt wrong. Even after all these years, Yoongi didn’t like having to share Seokjin’s coddling attention with Namjoon.

This routine was probably muscle memory for Seokjin at this point. How to calm Namjoon down, how to get his hot temper cooling, how to get his body to stop pumping adrenaline into his veins.

Seokjin’s long, graceful fingers cupped Namjoon’s jaw, not tugging, not pushing, just applying the barest ghost of pressure. That was all that was needed to pull Namjoon closer, bringing Namjoon’s lips to Seokjin’s a kiss.

Soft, sweet, and gentle.

Yoongi and the rest of Bangtan watched on with drops of mild jealousy.

Yet another result of Namjoon’s genetic engineering- epinephrine, cortisol, and ghrelin triggered the glands in Namjoon’s gums to release a paralytic venom that was strong enough that ingestion of only a couple drops would kill a man within minutes. It was a neurotoxin, anatoxin-A34, that shut your nervous system down, one neuron at a time.

It was part of what made Namjoon so dangerous in fights; if you got close enough for Namjoon to bite you, you’d be on the floor, seizing, within a matter of minutes.

It also meant that Namjoon was unkissable whenever he was tense; and with Namjoon’s temper- he was tense a majority of the time.

Seokjin was the only one who was capable of getting the mods needed to be able to safely ingest Namjoon’s venom. The rest of them simply didn’t have the biological environment needed for those breakdown enzymes to be effective.

The rest of Bangtan simply had to settle for kissing Namjoon’s cheek and living vicariously through Seokjin.

Seokjin kissed Namjoon once. Their lips separating for a mild moment, bottom lips still brushing each other, when Seokjin went in for another kiss. Yoongi could see Seokjin’s tongue smoothly slip between Namjoon’s poison lips.

Seokjin’s hands were firm; you could just tell from his grip, even if Namjoon wanted to move out of it, he wouldn’t be able to. Not that Namjoon would ever move away from Seokjin.

And finally, Seokjin pulled away, a gentle smile on his lips, as he traced the tip of his nose along the length of Namjoon’s, before giving his bondmate a final peck and pulling away.

“There,” Seokjin murmured, running his hands through Namjoon’s hair, “All better?”

Namjoon nodded, leaning his head into Seokjin’s hands; Namjoon’s eyes were open, dark, intelligent eyes looking over his shoulder at the rest of Bangtan. His eyes flicked over everyone, as if he was counting, making sure all four of them were still there, still safe.

“Calm?” Seokjin double-checked, sweetheart lips curling at the edges.

They all had heard Namjoon’s vitals return to perfect baseline many minutes ago, but Seokjin was always a little too overprotective over Namjoon.

“Yes, sir,” Namjoon murmured.

“Good.”

Namjoon straightened, head leaving Seokjin’s chest as he sat up on his own. Namjoon’s blinked, tilting his head and taking in his surroundings, as he slowly went from docile bondmate back to General Kim.

The room stayed in silence, all of them waiting patiently for Namjoon or Seokjin to give them permission to speak. They knew better to demand attention before Namjoon was ready for it. Namjoon let out a loud exhale, standing up, out of Seokjin’s lap.

“Everyone okay?” Namjoon asked, voice softer than it normally was, “Jimin, Taehyung? I hope she didn’t scare you too much.”

Jimin and Taehyung were still tightly curled around Jungkook, clingy as ever. Yoongi ran his hands through Jimin and Taehyung’s beautifully platinum blonde hair; he didn’t touch Jungkook’s, knowing that Jimin and Taehyung were likely too huffy to allow someone else to touch their baby.

“‘m okay,” Jimin chirped, peeking up at Namjoon from behind Jungkook’s shoulder.

Taehyung pouted, blinking up at Namjoon silently.

“Are you alright, Taehyung?” Namjoon, voice gentle, “I need an answer.”

Taehyung nodded, a tiny little motion, before hiding his face in Jungkook’s chest. The action was undeniably adorable; Taehyung was a head taller and much broader than the little Guide; Taehyung looked like an overgrown puppy by trying to hide his face in Jungkook’s chest. “I’m okay.” Taehyung’s words were muffled, but reassuring enough that Namjoon was satisfied.

General Kim nodded, and raised his gaze to meet Yoongi’s.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said, voice warm, or as warm as it got for Namjoon, anyway, “For sticking up for him.”

Namjoon sighed, crossing his arms, “A bigot was mistreating a future member of my army. I had to intervene.”

“Not like that,” Yoongi countered, “Not the way you did. You got angry.”

Namjoon didn’t have to get angry, didn’t have to get emotionally invested, especially considering how very dangerous the consequences were of Namjoon actually caring for a cause.

Just caring was sacrifice for Namjoon.

“I will always get angry on your behalf, Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s words sounded like a promise,

Over Namjoon’s shoulder, Yoongi watched the frown on Seokjin’s lips deepen.

—

Cadets turned to stare at Bangtan in silent awe as they walked past. Professors nodded their heads in silent respect.

At the front of the group, Seokjin and Namjoon walked down the halls of the Academy. Their seven foot figures topped with blonde heads of hair. Silvery blaster-proof uniforms catching the light as their shiny black loafers thumped against the floor.

Though all of Bangtan were impressive; there was most definitely something singular about the older two Kim Generals. General Kim and General Namjoon Kim. Though Seokjin’s General title was honorary, his age made it so that he was the one that got the respect of only being referred to by last name.

If they had walked past the Dean, Yoongi was rather sure the poor woman would drop to her knees- that’s what tended to happen after Namjoon gave someone a proper tongue lashing.

Yoongi found it ironic.

The Academy valued all of Bangtan so highly. The Academy pinned Bangtan up as the model example of what young Sentinels should strive to be: capable of bringing entire galaxies to order and determined enough to actually do it.

Which was all fine- except Seokjin and Namjoon were hardly enthusiasts of the Academy, both prior and post of attending. Both had waited until they hit the age limit to attend an academy, and both did it to fulfill the requirement needed to have a full-time Guide. Neither one enjoyed their time at the Academy, and neither actually wished to have a Guide.

And now they’re infamous for killing their Guides, Yoongi thought, and yet the Academy and its members continue to idolize them. Better to idolize a disinterested figure than no one at all, maybe.

Hoseok was walking behind Seokjin and Namjoon, keeping in step with the three other Guides that Bangtan had picked out. Yoongi never quite got used to the pitch black cadet uniforms; even if he had worn one for a couple years, himself; they were just so absolutely jarring. He didn’t associate Terrans with that glossy latex kind of black, and the sight of it on Terrans irritated him in a way that was rather hard to explain.

There was one cadet for Namjoon, one for Seokjin, and one for Hoseok. Yoongi had not deemed it important to learn their names. They were about the typical selections though. Good grades, attractive figures, capable guiding skills.

One Yoongi was decently sure was from the family that directly advises the Crown. However, this was both boring and unimportant to Yoongi. Not to mention, he was sure the little brat would mention it over and over in passing until she was certain Yoongi had picked up on her not-so-subtle hints that she was importance.

Unfortunate for her, Yoongi could care less.

Importance didn’t stem of where someone came from. If that was the deciding factor, Yoongi was most certainly not great. And neither were ninety-nine percent of Guides, who were born to simple middle class Nulls.

No, Yoongi thought, glancing over at Jimin and Taehyung, importance comes from entirely something else.

Jimin was holding a sleeping Jungkook bridal-style in his arms, while Taehyung crooned over the Guide, brushing hair off of the young man’s forehead. They both were completely and utterly obsessed with the little thing.

It was cute.

Yoongi understood the feeling.

Though he certainly had more control than his little ones, the urge to step forward and coddle Jungkook to no end was most certainly there.

However, while the Sentinel in him certainly wanted him to steal Jungkook away for himself, Min Yoongi found the most comfort in his young spouses being happy and safe with their new Guide.

He’d much rather let them have their fun and watch from afar. He’d participate with guidance when they needed it and knowing that Jimin and Taehyung had never slept with a Guide together- Yoongi was fairly certain they’d need a considerable deal of help eventually. And soon. Jungkook was one of the most attractive Guides Yoongi had seen; he doubted that Jimin and Taehyung would wait long at all to jump in bed with the little thing.

“How much longer is he going to sleep, sir?” Taehyung asked, looking at Hoseok.

Hoseok glanced over his shoulder, before shrugging a shoulder, and turning to face forward. “I’m not certain, little one. We’ll see. There’s no need to worry- he’s likely just a little worn out. You know how weak Guides are.”

Taehyung’s lower lip jutted out slightly, but he nodded, “We’re heading straight home?”

“Yes, starlet,” Seokjin answered, “Straight home. Sir is exhausted.”

They entered the main atrium.

Yoongi could smell the soot and smell of burnt stone, burnt clothing: polyester, rubber, cotton, linen, silk, burnt paint and drywall, burnt organic matter: plants? plants, high carbon content, ashy, off-planet. He could feel the the microscopic cuts the glass dust created from the fall of the massive crystal chandeliers were leaving on his skin.

Yoongi had known the damage would be extensive, but it was still a revelation to see the state of the place.

While the Academy generally consisted of simple and bleak architecture; it’s main atrium was relatively warm and rather grand. If this choice was simply to impress wealthy donors who visited, one would never know. However, the walls were a blush peach color; there were five massive crystal chandeliers, made from off-planet crystal and a luminescent kind of pseudo- platinum. An intricate pattern made from bits of tile covered the entirety of the floor. Expensive silk-covered furniture, large windows scaling over thirty feet in height.

It was grand enough that the Crown Princess herself had thrown a ball here, once.

Now… Yoongi glanced around the room, taking in the sheer extent of the damage. The walls were covered in soot. Half of the furniture was burned. Three chandeliers were on the ground; broken and shattered beyond repair. Crystal shards practically coated the floor, crunching underneath his shoes.

It looked like a battlefield. If Yoongi hadn’t known better, he’d think there had been a technical strategy to causing all this destruction. But he did know better, so all he did was look up at the ceiling, where the three fallen chandeliers had been attached. And right there, off of their attachments by less than a meter, were punctures in the ceiling. Blaster punctures, that were pretty characteristic of Cadet-issue blasters.

Yoongi refrained from smiling.

Good boy, Yoongi glanced at Jungkook, still sleeping in Jimin’s arms. The Guide seemed so ordinary upon first glance. Attractive, sure. But apart from that- he was just a fit, young Cadet. Even his hair didn’t allow any indication of something being special. It was a dark, heavily melaninated black, the color typical of Terrans who had no genetic modifications whatsoever.

Guides were meek, little things that hide behind their Sentinels. Or they ought to be… Or maybe they were expected to be.

Regardless, Yoongi’s tongue poked through his cheek. Jeon was most certainly none of these things.

Bangtan kept their pace, all their footsteps hitting the ground in sync; the only disjoint came from the new Guides meant for Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin. After picking Guides, they didn’t linger at the Academy for longer than needed.

“Imagine,” Seokjin muttered, “Such a disregard for order. If he’ll act so recklessly in his own home, can you imagine what he’d be like on a battlefield?”

No one responded to Seokjin’s comment. No one had too; it wasn’t an opening for a conversation; it was simply a chiding statement and a not-so-subtle reminder to the rest of Bangtan that Seokjin didn’t approve of the current situation.

“Wait!”

Bangtan continued walking.

“Wait! General! Generals, wait!”

This had Yoongi glancing over his shoulder, confused, curious, and moderately irritated at the disrespect. It was a young Cadet. A Null, based on the lack of jewelry in his nose and ear. A brunette, but a dull, dark sort that was likely more from Terran variety than proper genetic modification. It implied he was actually the very young age that he appeared to be.

He was running up to Bangtan. And if it were any other day, Yoongi would be a tetchy sort of protective over the rest of his spouses. Anyone running towards his spouses would immediately have Yoongi reaching for his blaster.

But Yoongi was mellow from a fresh imprint, happy from seeing his boys be so happy, and this was a Cadet and an unmodded Null.

Yoongi’s typically short temper was calm for the moment, so he’d allow the brat a bit more grace than he would normally.

“Cadet,” Yoongi said, tone full of warning, as he stopped and turned on his heel to face the Null, “You know better.”

The young Cadet skidded to a stop a meter before Yoongi; he didn’t bow properly nor did he salute, and that was enough for Yoongi’s temper to return in full swing.

“You can’t- you can’t just take him,” the Null panted. His murky brown eyes were wide with panic, or something akin to it. “He’s not a good Guide. You don’t want him, I swear.”

Not a good Guide.

It seemed like everyone had sh*t to say about about his Guide. Yoongi was reaching his limit with it.

Yoongi had to tolerate criticism falling from Seokjin’s tongue, but from a Cadet? One that was likely a third of his age? Absolutely not.

Yoongi opened his mouth to respond-

“Oh for stars’ sake,” Seokjin hissed, continuing to walk towards the main doors, absolutely uninterested in whatever the Null had to say after realizing it was about Jungkook, “Yoongi don’t bother with the delinquents, I’m sure he’ll get whipped for this enough as it is.”

Seokjin disappeared out of sight with an irritated flourish of his heavy cape. Namjoon continued to follow Seokjin out, as did Hoseok and the other Guides.

Taehyung and Jimin did stop, though, standing about two meters behind Yoongi.

The three members of Bangtan stared down the Cadet, but he didn’t so much as blink under the scrutiny. Instead, his eyes settled on Jungkook’s sleeping form, staring at Jeon intently. Yoongi didn’t like it and resisted the urge to take a step to the left and hide Jungkook from view.

Yoongi co*cked his head, “I can’t? Let me assure you- I am both entitled to and capable of doing whatever I want. As are the rest of my spouses.”

The Null looked away from Jeon to look at Yoongi.

The Null’s already wide eyes seemed to widen further. It wasn’t a doe-eyed look though. The Null wasn’t cute. He seemed intelligent… odd, somehow. There was a sort of surprise to his expression, as if Yoongi’s response had been unexpected.

The Null bit his lip, taking a step forward, “I- General Min. Please. He’s not a good Guide; he’s so talented in all regards but this; please- don’t end his life short. Please let him go.”

Yoongi scoffed, “Are you implying that Jeon’s life is more valuable than those of his peers?”

“To me?” the Null said, placing a pleading hand over his chest, “It is. Yes.”

Yoongi hummed, looking the Null up and down. He wasn’t impressive in any visible way. Yoongi could understand why someone so absolutely ordinary would be infatuated with Jungkook. It was kind that this Cadet was so determined to protect Jungkook that he was willing to face a displeased Min Yoongi. However- Jungkook no longer needed this Cadet’s protection. Not when he had Yoongi’s.

“He’s worth so much. I’ll offer you anything. I’m capable of it. My name is Baekhyun of the T-”

“I don’t care what you can offer me or what mediocre middle class family you hail from,” Yoongi waved a hand, turning away on his heel, “Perhaps, you can call upon your friend in the Capital during your summer season vacation. For now, however, the very talented Jungkook is coming with us.”

Yoongi walked in the direction of the door, pausing for a moment when he reached Jimin and Taehyung. They looked far more affected by the Cadet’s words than Yoongi was. Their eyes immediately flicked towards Yoongi, soft and waiting for direction.

“Come on,” Yoongi murmured, reassurance, as he pressed his hand on Jimin’s shoulder, “Lets get you both and your Guide home, hm?”

Jimin and Taehyung nodded, soft and obedient; the didn’t spare the Null another glance, turning around and walking towards the doors, through which the rest of their spouses had already left through, disappearing from sight.

“Please. Please at least let me say my good-byes, General Min.”

Yoongi kept walking towards the door.

“You’ll see him again soon,” Yoongi said, voice losing his sharp edge for a brief moment, “Good-byes are for the dying. Don’t be overdramatic.”

Yoongi watched Jimin and Taehyung, holding Jungkook, walk out of the academy. And a moment later, Yoongi had also walked out.

Yoongi stared at the airship set up on the landing pad in front of them.

Home.

Chapter 23: Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Seokjin sighed, pulling Namjoon close.

Out of their ship’s window, you could see the cloud layer fogging up their view of the pale blue sky. The sun dusted the tops of the clouds, painting their peaks in gold.

It was a beautiful view, but Seokjin only spared it a second, before he looked back at Namjoon.

His precious little husband.

Of course, the entirety of Bangtan was his responsibility. But Namjoon’s safety was solely Seokjin’s to look after. If he didn’t look after Namjoon, no one else would. Seokjin had sacrificed a great deal for Namjoon’s happiness, his success; and Seokjin would continue to do so. During his colder moments, Seokjin liked to think that his affection for Namjoon was akin to feeding a beast on a leash; in the daylight, Seokjin knew undeniably that he’d rip his own heart out if Namjoon asked for it.

Seokjin stared at the mild frown lines pursing Namjoon’s brows.

Choosing new Guides was always a stressful time; it was to be expected that Namjoon would have some trouble maintaining an even disposition. Namjoon had a great deal of trauma and conflicting feelings on the subject. Even when these selections went normally, Namjoon tended to be rather tense for a few days following.

After all, the man cared a great deal about Guides. Namjoon was a fundamentally good man. He saw the weak being discriminated against, and he wanted to protect them. Namjoon had enough empathy to not only see that Guides were suffering, but understand how they were suffering, and in what ways the Crown and Sentinels contributed to the reality Guides were subjected to.

Namjoon wanted to save everyone. He was willing to sacrifice himself for universal peace.

If a Goddess appeared and asked Namjoon for his soul in return for purging suffering from the world- Namjoon would donate his soul without question.

Seokjin didn’t feel the same way.

Not even close.

Seokjin considered himself fair. But he had lived far too long to maintain such an accommodating spirit.

People were terrible. They bred chaos amongst themselves, and that chaos hurt those Seokjin cared about. That chaos had done its best to drain Seokjin dry.

Seokjin did his best to establish order.

But it was for his own personal benefit; he had no overarching goals to save the universe; he just had a strong sense of self-preservation.

So when Namjoon returned from battle, Seokjin would bundle him up, press kisses to his lips, and whisper his own personal rhetoric into his mate’s poisoned mouth.

It was so ironic that Namjoon was the one who’s tongue dripped poison, when it was Seokjin who really wouldn’t mind poisoning every well in the galaxy if it served his needs.

“You’re worried,” Namjoon murmured, head resting on Seokjin’s chest.

The Sentinel was lying on top of Seokjin. Namjoon was broader, but he was still a manageable weight, like an overgrown puppy. He was Seokjin’s little puppy, and Seokjin hated seeing his little one bare his teeth.

Namjoon deserved to be calm and coddled. Namjoon had earned the right to be stress-free, even if he didn’t choose to take advantage of it.

He was only a hundred and twenty years of age, after all. Still a baby in Seokjin’s mind.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, darling,” Seokjin murmured, “Rest. Let the reducing agent do its work. If you work yourself up again, you’ll need another injection.”

Seokjin sighed, ruffling Namjoon’s platinum blonde hair. Namjoon attempted to nuzzle closer to Seokjin’s hand, but the action was slow. The morphine that Seokjin had added to Namjoon’s shot was finally beginning to take effect. Thankfully, slow enough that Namjoon hadn’t been able to differentiate the fatigue he felt as opiate-induced rather than general exhaustion.

Namjoon didn’t enjoy depressants. He used to have a terrible habit for them, after all; Namjoon wouldn’t be pleased in the slightest if he learned that Seokjin had continued to dose him. However, Seokjin had no intention of telling Namjoon, and if the man wished to be deluded enough to not even wonder why he no longer felt withdrawal symptoms, Seokjin figured he was only doing Namjoon a favor.

“I want to ease your concerns,” Namjoon mumbled.

“You sound like you want to sleep,” Seokjin teased, “Why don’t you rest, hm? We’ll pick this conversation up later.”

They would, in fact, not pick this conversation up later.

“No,” Namjoon whined, as his eyes fluttered shut against his will, “No, I wanna- wanna talk.”

“Shhh,” Seokjin hushed, “My little poison-mouthed sweetheart. Sleep with me, please? It’s been so long since it’s just been us…”

Seokjin trailed off his words, as Namjoon became dead weight above him, eyes shut, lips parting.

So cute, Seokjin thought to himself, tucking a stray lock of hair behind one of Namjoon’s ears.

Namjoon was so fundamentally good. Such an angel.

So willing to get angry for the right reasons.

Namjoon did not need more reasons to get angry. Especially, if that reason was Cadet Jeon Jungkook.

Seokjin had lived many years.

He knew, fundamentally, all Guides were useless. Those who appeared too good to be true always were.

He wasn’t sure just what was going on with Jeon, but when he did find out…

He would thoroughly deal with the problem. That was for sure.

“Sir,” Namjoon mumbled, cuddling closer to Seokjin.

Duke Kim Seokjin smiled, soft and besotted, as he pulled Namjoon closer to his body.

“I love you, firecracker,” Seokjin whispered into the space between them, “Rest.”

—

“C-can I stay in the front with you, sir?” Taehyung asked, peeking into the bridge.

The crew didn’t look away from their tasks, but Yoongi’s head perked up curiously.

Without hesitation, Yoongi flicked on the collision AI (they were pretty high in the atmosphere, but there were always some nobles who felt entitled to entering military airspace) and turned the Captain’s chair around to face Taehyung. “Baby? Shouldn’t you be with Jungkook and Jimin?”

Taehyung was fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, gnawing on his lower lip. Nervous. Yoongi could hear his heart thrum; he could smell the subtle stress pheromones collecting on the surface of Taehyung’s skin.

The sight was far too reminiscent of his memory of Taehyung decades ago. Still young. Still a boy, but with the scars of a war-torn soldier.

Yoongi looked at him another minute, before shaking his head.

He flicked on the navigator, giving it full mechanical control of the ship, confirming their destination.

“Don’t touch anything,” Yoongi stood up, glancing at the crew, specifically the second Captain.

1343 ships had an extremely powerful autopilot algorithm; Yoongi would trust it with his life- he was the one who designed them, after all. There was no need for someone else to fly the ship in his absence.

“Page me if something happens. If I’m not back by landing, be on stand-by; I adjusted the program’s tolerance to tarmac conditions to compensate for the 45’s size, and I’m a little concerned it might not be very picky when configuring a path to the landing strip.”

It really didn’t matter. Nothing short a barreling asteroid would dent the 1343 ships, especially the 134345, which was made for built for short-term passenger-oriented Terran travel, allowing prioritization of compact, impact proof architecture. But still, one should limit collateral damage, if possible.

“Yes, General Min.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Taehyung protested, “I didn’t want to bother-”

“You could never be a bother,” Yoongi brushed off, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s waist and leading him to one of the private kitchens on the ship, “Come on, I think you need some water.”

—

Jimin cuddled close to Jungkook. Playfully, teasingly, until his cheekbone hit the cold metal of Jungkook’s uniform’s metal button.

Jimin squeaked, pulling back.

The feeling of sudden cold wasn’t unbearable on his skin, but, on his pit organs, it was the equivalent of getting an unexpected static shock on the tip of your nose. The organ dusted his nose and cheekbones, letting him differentiate temperatures by the 0.001 degree Celsius. It also meant that cuddles with someone wearing cold metal jewelry was close to over-stimulating.

A soft burst of laughter followed Jimin’s squeak. Jimin peered up from Jungkook’s sleeping body to look at the corner of the room.

Hoseok was sitting in an arm chair, tablet on and holographic display of someone’s medical chart in the air. But his eyes were on Jimin, curved with amusem*nt, as he rested his chin on his fist.

“Are you alright, Jimin?”

“His button was cold,” Jimin said petulantly, looking at Hoseok.

“He has solid metal buttons. They get cold, Jimin.”

Jimin knew this. Normally, though, he didn’t want to cuddle his Guides. He flirted with them, he f*cked them, he pampered them. But, he didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to shove his face in their neck and bite like they were a little mouse trying to run away.

Bangtan’s earrings were covered in a special resin that absorbed and maintained a decent amount of heat, which both meant his pit organ wasn’t getting zapped by unexpected contact with his bondmate’s jewelry during bedroom activities.

It was also useful to Jimin. As a poikilotherm, he needed all the aid he could get in keeping warm. Cold metal made him itch, and he avoided wearing it whenever possible.

“Get him the special ones. Please?”

“He’ll be getting a new uniform in a few days, anyways. There’s no need for that.”

“But,” Jimin pouted, “I want to be able to cuddle with him now.”

“You can wait a few days. There’s no point in special ordering off-planet resin buttons for two days of comfort.”

“Can I have it by tomorrow? Please, sir?”

Jimin looked at Hoseok, widening his eyes; his serpentine emerald green eyes pouting, silently pleading his case.

There was a moment of silence before Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. It might not be standard issue, but I’m sure the seamstress has a some of those buttons to spare.” Hoseok was not going to ask the seamstress for buttons, but he knew that Jimin would likely not feel the buttons were of the such importance in a few days, much less remember this conversation.

Jimin in the throes of imprinting was not at all equivalent to Jimin sober.

“Okay,” Jimin nodded, cuddling closer to Jungkook, “He’s mine.”

“Yes. All yours.”

—

Yoongi cut up a line of cucumber, a few slices of Reqard fruit, and a couple pieces of mango, before sliding them all into a crystal pitcher. He opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of triple reverse osmosis water, pulled from ice caps on planet 67XCE, which had the exact electrolyte ratios that served Taehyung’s needs.

He broke the air-lock seal; the smell of salt water met his nose, as he poured the liter of water into the pitcher.

He took a glass rod (metal silverware bittered the taste) and swirled the fruit and water for six minutes, before deeming it acceptable.

He set up a tall tumbler of water, layering three strainers above it, making sure none of the fruit pulp ended up in the glass; he carefully poured Taehyung a glass and then silently handed it over.

“Here. Water,” he said.

Taehyung giggled, accepting the glass. He took a sip, before his eyes brightened, and he downed the entire thing in a matter of seconds.

“Another?” Taehyung questioned, pushing the glass back towards Yoongi.

The Sentinel’s chest felt achingly warm. He loved providing for his mates. He loved showing them that he could provide. That even if the planet’s six suns were sweltering and they still hadn’t felt the relief of night since when they were mere fledglings; Yoongi would find them water.

He’d make sure they and their young would never know the pain of a parched throat…

Yoongi shook off the nonsensical train of instinctual thought, reminding himself that Terra, in fact, only had one sun, as he poured Taehyung another glass of water.

Taehyung sipped at this one, too full from the first glass to do anything but nurse it, holding it in both of his hands. His lips were curled into a happy smile, licking his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi questioned, “I’m sure you’re aching to return to your Guide.”

Taehyung looked up at Yoongi over the lip of his glass, “Don’t you want to see him, too?”

Yes.

Of course.

He certainly felt overprotective over that little Cadet, more than he’d ever felt for any Guide. Even his first.

Before, Yoongi had felt very protective over Jimin and Taehyung, but it was to a managable degree. He could understand the the two young ones needed their space. And, to an extent, Yoongi trusted their ability to take care of themselves.

But now, if Yoongi was considering all three of them together, he would never be able to leave them unattended.

The three of them together… Yoongi couldn’t even say that they’d be aware they’re in danger; they’re so infatuated with each other, there was no telling how absolutely unobservant they could be.

For now, though, on a ship of his own design, Yoongi was a hundred percent certain there was no danger on board. So, he was keeping an eye on them from afar.

Yoongi had watched which room Jimin and Jungkook had gone into, and he had locked the door. That room, Bedroom 3, had no other ways of exiting.

Yoongi’s chip, the one implanted in his visual cortex, was connected to the 134345’s mainframe and was locked onto the life signs of the two beings in Bedroom 3. If Yoongi closed his eyes, he could see an accurate, live heart rate, blood pressure, and respiratory rate for both Jimin and Jungkook.

He knew they were just fine.

But still, Yoongi just gave Taehyung a soft reassuring smile.

“I trust you and Jimin to watch over him.”

There was no need for Taehyung to think Yoongi found him incapable of protecting himself and Jimin and Jungkook.

“Oh,” Taehyung blinked, looking down at his water, “I’m- I’m sorry for not being there, with Jimin, then, I didn’t realize…”

“Hey. Don’t be like that, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong. Besides, Jimin’s more than capable of protecting Jeon on his own. You saw how much he argued with me; I don’t think anyone could even give Jeon a paper cut,” Yoongi exaggerated, keeping a gentle smile on his face.

Jimin was strong. But, his talents weren’t in strong-armed defense. If Yoongi needed someone to run away with Jungkook or hide away with Jungkook. Jimin would be Yoongi’s first choice.

The right person could definitely give Jungkook more than a paper cut, even if Jimin was protecting him.

But that was neither here or there, Jimin would never be protecting Jungkook on his own.

Yoongi would always, always, be standing silently behind him, blaster set to burn. And if Jimin took pride in keeping enemies away, mistakenly thinking he had done it by himself, Yoongi had no issue giving him the credit.

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded, “Jiminie really likes him. Like, a lot.”

“What about you, baby? How do you feel about him?”

“I like him, but… I’m scared, sir.”

“My husband never has a reason to be scared.”

“B-but,” Taehyung said, stuttering, flittering through different accents as he spoke, “I always- I always kill my Guides, and I don’t want to kill this one. I never want to kill any of them, they’re so small, but he feels special, and I know we don’t see auras, but I swear I can feel something- I want him. But- even Namjoon, thinks that I’ll kill- kill him,” Taehyung said, eyes watering as he spoke.

Yoongi pursed his lips together.

He felt a drop of irritation at Namjoon. He knew Namjoon never meant anything by his words when he was passionate, that his phrasing wasn’t always the most polite or proper. But, still, the man ought to know when to shut his mouth when it came to the younger ones.

It was fine when Namjoon was barking at an opposing conservative Senator.

It was less f*cking fine when he was snapping at Jimin and Taehyung.

“Taehyung… Namjoon didn’t mean it like that.”

“Namjoon is never wrong.”

“He is most certainly wrong sometimes,” Yoongi scoffed, “Remember when he claimed there wasn’t a black hole in the Firaheed galaxy? He almost f*cking killed us.”

Taehyung giggled, “It was a new blackhole. It was just a baby.”

“So? Jimin knew about it. There was no excuse.”

“Jiminie guessed.”

“Well, he guessed right.”

“He’s also an astrophysicist. It’s his job to know that stuff. Namjoon’s a politician.”

“So we shouldn’t trust Namjoon with blind navigation, because he’s not astrophysicist?”

“Yeah, sir.”

“Then why the f*ck should we care about Namjoon’s opinion about Jungkook’s life expectancy? Is Namjoon hiding an MD somewhere? Did he complete a surgical residency between Senate meetings?”

“Sir.”

“I mean, am I wrong?”

“…no.”

“Namjoon’s great and pretending like he knows everything under the sun. He’s a politician, baby. It’s what they do. You just listen to Hoseok, okay?” Yoongi waved a hand. He had to make sure to tell Hoseok to stick to the rose-tinted script with the younger ones. He was fairly sure Hoseok would, but, still, just in case.

Having two older mates telling Taehyung the same thing would greatly reassure Taehyung, even if what they were saying wasn’t true.

“Okay,” Taehyung said warily.

“Hoseok said it would be okay. Hoseok’s never lost a civilian patient. He’s not going to let you lose Jungkook. You trust him, right?”

“Yes,” Taehyung nodded.

“And you’ll listen when he tells you to stop or when I give you an order?”

“Yes! Of course, sir,” Taehyung jumped up, slamming his half-empty glass on the table, water splashing up over the lid.

Yoongi fought the urge to blanche at the sight of the wasted water drops on the counter, focusing on Taehyung’s eager-to-prove-himself expression.

“Good,” Yoongi smiled, “Then how about you go and help Jimin protect Jungkook, hm? He might want a break. He had a headache a while ago, remember?”

Taehyung nodded, standing up, “I remember! I’ll go right now!”

“Good boy,” Yoongi praised, as Taehyung practically jogged out of the room, “Remember ETA is in another two hours.”

“Yes, sir!” Taehyung said, as the door closed behind him.

Cute.

Chapter 24: Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

On his way back to the bridge, Yoongi walked past Bedroom 5, pausing at the sound of three heartbeats. Not entirely Terran, but mostly.

Seokjin’s, Namjoon’s, and Hoseok’s Guides.

On a whim, Yoongi decided to check up on them. The door handle recognized the chip in his wrist, unlocking the door. Peering into the room, Yoongi smiled politely at the wide-eyed looks the three Guides sent him.

“Hello,” he said, watching them all flinch.

This was a typical reaction. Awe tended to make people react this way. Bangtan was untouchable in almost all senses of the word; it was understandable that Guides who were younger, smaller, and weaker would be wary.

Usually, Yoongi would even find it cute.

Right now though, Yoongi didn’t find it cute at all. In fact, he couldn’t help but consider it just a little bit pathetic. After seeing Jungkook’s blazing eyes, knowing that he risked setting fire to the Academy just to reach Yoongi before another Guide could, he found himself being a little less forgiving.

Jungkook had interrupted them. Multiple times.

He didn’t wait for the attention Bangtan was willing to give him; he reached out and took it.

Yoongi considered himself fairly forward thinking, but he hadn’t quite understood the appeal of a rambunctious Guide until today. He had thought he preferred little things that hid behind him. But Jeon, holding a hot blaster muzzle, was the most attractive Guide Yoongi has ever seen.

He was fairly certain that wasn’t even the imprint talking.

“G-General Min!” They squeaked.

Typically, Yoongi would allow all of Bangtan’s Guides to address him by the more casual “Sentinel Min,” but suddenly that felt way too intimate for someone undeserving of it. Only his spouses and Jungkook deserved to refer to him intimately.

Everyone else had better call him General.

“Are you all doing okay?” Yoongi questioned, “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Yoongi watched them all shake their heads. They all wore the black Academy uniform. They were the typical Guides Bangtan typically recruited. Good families, political ties, and favored by the Dean.

Reliable, Yoongi had thought previously.

Boring, he thought to himself now.

“Let me know if that changes. I’m in the Bridge. Both the elder Generals Kim are resting, so I’d rather you call me instead.”

“Yes, General Min,” they chorused.

“Good,” he nodded, turning around.

“Actually- General Min, I was a little confused about something, if I can ask?” One of them asked, eyes trained on Yoongi’s nose, creating the illusion of eye-contact that would have worked if Yoongi wasn’t a Sentinel.

“Go ahead,” he said, already having an idea of what the question was going to be.

“It’s just… there are only three of us, General Min. Four including Cadet Jeon, but he’s not even here- I’m just a little confused,” she said slowly, as if worried Yoongi was going to snap at her.

Truthfully, the part of him that was now infatuated with little Cadet Jeon didn’t want to answer her question at all. Jungkook was safe and hidden away; these Cadets were his enemies. Jungkook would be judged in comparison to them, and the odds were already stacked against Jungkook.

But Guides were Guides. Meant to be treasured, respected, cared for.

“There’s only four of you this year. Guide Jeon will be responsible for me and Generals Park and Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi explained, finding himself unable to soften his voice the way he normally did when speaking to Guides, “He’s currently with them.”

“Oh… Will our Sentinels be joining us, General Min?”

Your Sentinels will be joining you once in a blue moon, Yoongi thought to himself. Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok typically did not care to speak to their Guides, unless it was to give them orders on a battlefield.

Yoongi shook his head, “They’ll escort you after we land. Is that all?”

“Yes, General Min.”

Yoongi gave them a clipped nod before leaving the room.

Perhaps Yoongi ought to feel bad about the clear bias being shown towards Jungkook. After all, they had seen Jimin and Taehyung carry a sleepy Jungkook into the ship and to a private bedroom. Jimin and Taehyung were still cuddling the poor thing.

Whereas, these three had been led to this bedroom by a Bangtan subordinate. Though Namjoon and Hoseok had been kinder, Seokjin had barely spared them a glance.

Then again, Seokjin was a bigot through and through. He didn’t like Guides much at all.

That was alright, though, Yoongi thought, hands clasped behind his back, as he made his way back to the Bridge, Seokjin doesn’t have to like Guides- he just has to like Jungkook.

—

Jungkook yawned. He tried rolling onto his side, but something was preventing him from moving. He wriggled a little, recognizing the soft thrumming of a ship engine.

A ship?

Jungkook blinked his eyes open to an unfamiliar ceiling, confusion and adrenaline seeping into him as he attempted to figure out just what was-

“Good morning sleepy head,” a soft voice cooed. Jimin propped himself up, looking down at Jungkook with a smile, “You remember getting on the ship with us, right?”

“You were a little drowsy,” Taehyung propped himself up on Jungkook’s other side, “It’s understandable if you didn’t.”

Jungkook forgets how to breathe for a second. Jimin and Taehyung were on either side of him. They were cuddling him. They were sharing a bed with Jungkook. There were here, with him, smiling.

They looked so beautiful. So perfect, even with slightly askew hair and rumpled clothes. Jungkook just stared at them for minute.

Taehyung’s bright eyes, slanted with intelligence and framed by gorgeous lower lashes. Freckles lining his nose and cheekbones. His smile was happy, showing off teeth that seemed too sharp.

Jimin’s pink lips curved into a smile, soft and plush against the almost scale-like shine of his skin. Freckles also lined his cheekbones. He looked down at Jungkook, green emerald eyes with pupils not quite circular, closer to ovals- reminiscent of a snake.

They were beautiful.

Jungkook had waited for a moment like this for so long. He had fantasied about Bangtan for so long, it was unbelievable to think that he had finally done it.

They like me, Jungkook thought, eyes tearing up, they actually like me. No ones ever liked me before.

He sniffed, tears clinging to his eyelashes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?”

“Why are you upset? What can I do?”

“Jungkook?”

“Little one?”

The two Sentinels crowded him hands petting him all over brushing away his tears before they could fall and cuddling him close. Jungkook was squished between the two hulking, seven foot Sentinels, but he didn’t even consider pushing them away.

He fisted their uniforms, hiding his face in one of their shoulders, “I’m okay- I’m okay, I promise, just happy.”

“Happy?” Jimin repeated.

“You’re crying,” Taehyung whispered, as if Jungkook wasn’t aware.

“Happy tears,” Jungkook promised, face smushed into white-colored fabric out of embarrassment, “I promise, sir.”

“If you promise…”

“… We’ll believe you.”

Click.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook turned their heads to see Yoongi standing in the doorway. He stared at Jungkook for a few seconds, before looking away; his eyes surveilled the room, slow and meticulous, as if looking for something.

What made me cry, Jungkook realized, he’s looking for what made me cry. He left the Bridge to see if I was okay.

Yoongi nodded to himself, and then returned his gaze to the trio on the bed. His expression was impassive, but somehow, Jungkook felt warm under his gaze.

“We’re landing soon. I just wanted to let you know. Boys, I’m sure Jungkook is hungry. Make sure to give him a proper meal when we get back, alright?”

“Okay!”

“We will.”

“And Jungkook?” Yoongi said.

“Yes sir?”

“When it comes to water… do you have any preferences?”

Jungkook blinked.

Water?

“Water, sir? Like, to drink?”

“Yes, Jungkook.”

“… no, sir, can’t say that I do.”

“Dietary needs then?”

“…no…”

Jungkook watched Yoongi nod, hands behind his back, cute, awkward, and militant all at once.

“Alright, then,” Yoongi said, “I need to land the ship, but I’ll see you later tonight, Jungkook. I’m sure Jimin and Taehyung will take good care of you until then.”

What was that about? Jungkook wondered, glancing curiously towards Jimin and Taehyung.

But they just shook their heads secretively, exchanging smiles.

“Don’t worry about it, Little one.”

“We don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Now,” Jimin said, fingers brushing Jungkook’s jaw, “I’d like to spend some quality time with my Guide.”

“If that’s okay with you,” Taehyung asked, leaning forward.

Jimin and Taehyung were both hovering above him.

Both of them were staring at his lips.

There were no thoughts in Jungkook’s head as he nodded.

And as the Sentinels took turns pressing gentle kisses to Jungkook’s lips, Jungkook’s mind remained blank.

—

When they landed, Jimin and Taehyung wasted absolutely no time. Jungkook was lifted into Taehyung’s arms. After kissing Jungkook’s cheek, Jimin walked past them, leading the way, opening doors, and pushing people aside to keep their path clear.

“We’ll get you something to eat! And then we’ll take you on a tour!” Jimin called behind him, as he swiped his wrist over the sensor and opened the final airlock doors.

The heavy doors slid open; bright sunlight flooded the main floor of the ship. Outside, it was a field of bright green grass, interrupted with dozens of white pavement landing strips. They seemed to glitter under the sun.

Royal landing strips, Jungkook thought, turning his gaze upward.

The imperial palace… was a massive thing. It was a hulking white terror, large enough to block out the sun at certain times of the day. Stained glass portraits of the royal family members were the only spots of color and traditionalism; the rest of the building was smooth curved lines, uninterrupted and modern.

Though there were many wonders in the world, the imperial palace was most definitely the first.

And to think, Jungkook thought to himself, this isn’t even the front of the building.

“It’s good to be home,” Jimin stretched his arms above his head, as he led the way down the catwalk.

Taehyung followed, with Jungkook held bridal style in his arms.

“It’s good to have Jungkook home with us,” Taehyung added, giving Jungkook a soft smile. Taehyung, who Jungkook had only seen give stern academic speeches, was cradling him carefully, gently, looking at Jungkook like he was something precious.

Taehyung had been kissing him only moments ago.

Jungkook’s heart fluttered at the sight, chest feeling so incredibly warm.

“It’s… it’s good to be here with you, sir,” Jungkook said weakly. He wrung his hands in his lap, too wary to actually reach out and touch the Sentinel.

He still wasn’t quite certain any of this was real. If he reached out and touched the illusion, maybe it would disappear.

“That’s the third time I’ve heard his heart do that,” Jimin said, turning around to look at Taehyung, “We should ask Hoseok about it.”

Jimin underneath the sun… was stunning. His platinum blonde hair seemed almost white, shining like sunlight. His skin shimmered, catching the light in a way that made his skin look like it was made out of crystal.

He was beautiful.

Jungkook blinked, looking at Jimin, “My heart did what?”

Jimin gave Jungkook a happy smile, waving a hand as if that could dispel all of Jungkook’s worries. “No worries, little one. Sir is just being over-cautious.”

Jungkook nodded slowly.

I don’t have any heart conditions, do I? I mean, if anyone would be able to tell, it would be them, but…

“Jimin, even unmodded Terrans have sensitive sympathetic nervous systems. That heart rhythm just means he was stimulated; there’s no need to worry about it. Arrhythmia is only when they have a constantly irregular heart rate,” Hoseok said as he walked down the catwalk.

Hoseok was interesting. Jungkook didn’t quite understand him yet. Jungkook also had less prior information on him, too. With Jimin and Taehyung, Jungkook had watched enough of their talks and lectures to get some idea of what they might be like.

Hoseok, though, rarely had public appearances. He was the highest-ranking expert of the Terran Medical Association, but even when he gave statements, he did them in writing. It was modest work.

He was most known for being the royal physician, but that didn’t require public appearances, either.

Jungkook knew that Hoseok was older than Jimin and Taehyung. He was ninety-two years old, according to Kikipedia’s public records. But, really, that was the extent of what Jungkook knew for sure.

Hoseok was not nearly as physically imposing at Seokjin and Namjoon, nor was he as intimidating as Yoongi.

But still, there was something about him that had Jungkook wary.

He wasn’t sure what, but the way Hoseok looked at him- it was unsettling.

“Are you sure, sir?” Jimin questioned.

Hoseok nodded, platinum blonde hair catching the light, as he adjusted the black leather duffle bag he was holding.

“You don’t need to worry about it, Jimin. That’ll happen every time he feels a strong emotion,” Hoseok flashed a grin, “You can even use it as a measurement of how well you’re arousing him.”

Jungkook choked- spit catching in the back of his throat. He hunched over, leaning down as much as he could while still in Taehyung’s arms. Both Sentinels crowded him patting his back, asking him if he was alright, fluttering about like worried mother birds.

But Hoseok seemed unconcerned, turning back around towards the ship.

“I’m- I’m okay-” Jungkook coughed, pushing their hands away, “Sorry- I’m good.”

“It’s been less than five minutes, and he’s already ill.”

Jungkook watched as Kim Namjoon, the leader of Bangtan, tall, broad, and dark-eyed, walked down the catwalk. Every step of his seemed to reverberate in the air; Namjoon truly did have the presence of a King. Even though he was in the same uniform as everyone else, there was just a way his cape moved that made him seem so much bigger.

Though, when Jungkook forced himself to look past the man’s intimidating air, he realized that Namjoon’s hair was just a little askew, eyes a tad glassy. He looked like he had just taken a nap.

With a blink, Jungkook watched Namjoon yawn, as if solely to prove Jungkook’s hypothesis.

“He choked on his own spit,” Hoseok replied, amused, “Guides do that sometimes.”

“He’s ill.”

“I think you’ve forgotten what it really feels like to have a fever,” Hoseok shook his head, but it was easy to see the humor in his expression.

“I had a fever eleven years ago, remember? When we were in Canta?”

“Too long ago for your memory to remember it accurately, it seems.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, before glancing at Jimin and Taehyung. Jungkook had no idea how they could tolerate Namjoon’s gaze without shriveling up. Even casually, it was enough to make Jungkook want to hide under a rock, “Do you want to be dismissed? Yoongi will be a while- you know how he is.”

“We wanted to feed him, sir,” Jimin said.

“Also give him a tour, sir,” Taehyung added.

Namjoon nodded, and Jungkook could see the faint traces of affection in the twitch of his lips.

“Dismissed, then. We’ll see you for dinner.”

“Thank you!” Jimin and Taehyung chorused, before turning around fast enough to give Jungkook vertigo.

The walked quickly towards the palace, eagerness to show Jungkook around obvious in every single one of their movements.

“So, this is the royal airfield,” Jimin said waving at the white landing strips, “They made it out of reinforced quartz, because the Crown Princess finds normal asphalt landing strips ugly.”

“Yoongi thinks it's silly,” Taehyung added, “Because the quartz pavement has to be scrubbed clean of stains after every ship lands in order to keep it pristine.”

“I’m pretty sure Yoongi’s been tasked to come up with a wheel that won’t stain the quartz. However low on the priority list that is.”

“Huh,” Jungkook said, attempting to take in everything that he could see. There was just so much; he’s never seen anything like this. “I’m sure the servants would appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Jimin waved a hand, “Lets show you the rest of the palace.”

—

The three Guides, belonging to Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin, slowly stepped out of the ship, warily walking down the catwalk.

Namjoon and Hoseok gave them polite smiles.

“Welcome to the Capital,” Namjoon greeted. He walked closer to the catwalk, giving them his full attention. “I hope you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“I’m sure we will, Sentinel Kim,” Namjoon’s Guide agreed, weak smile on her face.

Hoseok’s Guide stared at him, but Hoseok didn’t approach them; instead, his attention was on the rowdy trio rapidly approaching the palace. They were cute; it was nice seeing Jimin and Taehyung so excited. He rarely got to see them look so carefree, especially in regards to Guides.

“General Kim, w-where’s the other General Kim?” Seokjin’s Guide questioned.

“Coming,” Namjoon reassured, “Just a moment.”

And two beats of silence later, Seokjin walked out of the ship. He strode down the catwalk in brisk, confident manner. He had his usual polite smile on his face, but it might as well had not been there at all with how little comfort it actually offered the young Cadets.

“Come,” Seokjin told them, “We’ll escort you to your rooms. I’m certain you’d like to rest. We’ll collect you in time for dinner.”

—

Chapter 25: Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

After three hours, Jimin and Taehyung had only finished showing Jungkook around the first floor palace. It was an extensive building, over a dozen wings and floors.

Jungkook had a fantastic memory, but there was no way that even he would remember everything Jimin and Taehyung had showed him.

Not even close. Jungkook had been overwhelmed five minutes into the tour, when Jimin casually mentioned that nearly all the furniture in the palace was upholstered with Yetiq silk- a fabric so expensive, that as far as Jungkook had known, it was only used for small items like hair ties and pillow cases.

After that, Jungkook had started somewhat numbly nodding his head at everything Jimin and Taehyung pointed out, not really registering anything that was being said.

And to think this was only one floor out of many.

There was no doubt that Jungkook would be getting lost in these halls more than once.

Everything was white and cavernous, resembling grand temple halls more than a home; but that was understandable, a great deal of the palace was solely for political hearings. Parliament met on the lower floors every morning.

The lower floors of the palace were less of a residence, and more Terra’s center of government. The upper floors were more secluded and a bit more intimate; those were the personal floors for the royal family. Bangtan’s rooms were on the second highest floor.

More than even all the stunning architecture; Jungkook had never seen so many mature Sentinels in one place. Old, influential Sentinels with the world at their fingertips walked past them; their ears glittered with half a dozen gems; the perfectly polished stones easily catching the light.

It was… overwhelming.

“So, that was the last of the first main floor,” Jimin hummed.

Jungkook nodded. Vaguely, he remembered parts of the palace from previous visits with young Sentinels and their families when he was younger. It had been a frequent field trip destination. But even so, at the time, Jungkook had been much more focused on the Sentinels he was with, rather than taking in his surroundings.

“Thank you, sir,” Jungkook nodded, “You wouldn’t happen to have a map of this place, would you?”

Taehyung laughed, “I have one, actually. Remind me to give it to you.”

“Thank-”

Jungkook’s stomach growled.

“Oh right. It’s much past lunch time. Come on, let’s get you something to eat, hm?”

And, of course, Jungkook had been looking at Jimin all day; he had been in conversation with Jimin for multiple hours- and yet, with Jimin looking at him, smiling like that, making eye-contact with Jungkook.

His heart couldn’t help but flutter.

Jimin blinked.

“That’s the heart thing, again,” Taehyung said, before leaning his head down to whisper in Jungkook’s ear, “Are you aroused?”

Jungkook practically yelped out of embarrassment, squirming in Taehyung’s arms and hitting the Sentinel’s shoulder. The question had been so unexpected; Jungkook was at a sheer loss as to how to react.

“No! Not at all!” he blustered, face feeling hot.

Jimin giggled, “Taehyung, remember? Hoseok said it could be because of any strong emotion.”

“Right. Sorry for assuming, Jungkook. I guess I just got excited.”

Jungkook coughed, resisting the very strong urge to hide his face in his hands.

—

Jungkook was nibbling on Yemlin fruit, fruit grown on the Moon and worth hundreds of credits a piece. This was the second one Jungkook was eating.

Jimin and Taehyung had seen him glance at a bowl of them a maid had been holding; they immediately stopped her and stole three from the bowl.

Yemlin fruit were so expensive that Jungkook had only seen them; they were used as decor, as centerpieces on dining tables; they weren’t eaten. They were too expensive to do more than simply rent them for a night.

Taehyung shifted Jungkook in his arms, thumbing away a stray drop of juice from Jungkook’s face with his thumb. “You’re so unbearably cute,” Taehyung sighed, “What did we do to deserve you.”

Jungkook just giggled, heart fluttering in response. His lips tingled where Taehyung had touched him.

“We don’t deserve him; we just got lucky,” Jimin replied.

We don’t deserve him; we just got lucky.

Those words melted into the walls of Jungkook’s heart.

For so long, Jungkook had been trying so hard just to catch Bangtan’s eye. And now, they were telling him sweet nothings. Truly, Jungkook was very much the one that had gotten lucky. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he’d do anything to ensure Jimin and Taehyung continued to feel the same way about him.

The three of them were finally going to Jungkook’s room. The Sentinels had began fussing that Jungkook needed another nap, and Jungkook knew how to pick his battles.

Besides… he really was getting rather tired. Even if he had taken a long nap during the flight, whatever energy he had gotten from that had quickly evaporated during the course of the tour of the massive palace.

So Jungkook let them carry him off, back to his room. He was beginning to used to being carried around by the Sentinels, anyways. Jungkook was probably light as a feather to someone as modded as Taehyung, and it wasn’t as if Taehyung was ever going to drop him. So considering all of that, there ought to be nothing wrong with letting Taehyung carry him.

And even besides, Jungkook wasn’t quite sure how to walk, anyway. He doesn’t know anything about standing upright on his own.

So Taehyung had to carry him, technically.

Jungkook nuzzled closer to Taehyung’s chest, relaxed, enjoying the clean, linen scent of Taehyung’s uniform, as he watched Jimin lead the way.

“These are the ambassador’s quarters, their size and lavishness vary, since the titles of the guests we receive also vary,” Jimin said, “The further down the hall, the larger they are.”

“Makes sense, sir.”

A maid was knocking a door, a little further down the hall. The door opened, and Cadet Melev stepped out, nodding at the maid and opening her mouth to speak when she caught a glance of Bangtan’s white outfits.

Cadet Melev was still in her all-black Cadet uniform, but her chestnut hair was out of the military-mandated ponytail, falling in loose curls over her shoulders.

“General Park, General Kim,” she said, resting a fist against the center of her chest.

“At ease,” Jimin waved a hand. The Sentinel continued to walk down the hall, as if Melev was absolutely nothing to him.

Jungkook’s ego liked that very much.

“Oh! Cadet Jeon! Are you staying with us? We’re ordering Jevela, but I’m sure they have something more suited to your palate,” Melev called.

Jevela was a high-class dish, incredibly carbonated, to the point it almost hurt the tongue. It was an incredibly acquired taste, and only those who could afford to eat the expensive dish often would be able to acquire it.

Jungkook bit his lip. He’d had it a few times. Again, the meals had been compatibility gifts, but it had been years since then. Jungkook was certain his meager tolerance to the food had all but vanished at this point. Jungkook saw no need to burn his tongue in front of these three Guides.

Jungkook never quite got along with any of the Guides at the academy, but if Jungkook were to pick of the three most insufferable of his classmates- it would have been these three.

Melev, specifically, was the worst. She wore heavy pendant necklace of a family crest. Not the Melev crest, though; no, why would she do that when she could wear the military Kim crest, and announce to everyone she met that her mother was a military Kim Sentinel. Jungkook didn’t even see much of the point- she didn’t inherit much of the mods that her mother had. And, as a Guide, she wasn’t really entitled to post-birth mods until she was bonded to a Sentinel.

Moreover, the military Kims weren’t exactly known for their appreciation for Guides. Likely, her mother pretended like she didn’t exist.

But that was none of Jungkook’s business.

“No, thank you,” Jungkook smiled, fake and tetchy, “I should probably avoid sweets.”

“Oh,” Melev trailed, eyes flicking up and down Jungkook’s body, “I understand; I’d want to watch my figure, too, if I was in your circ*mstances.”

Jungkook resisted the urge to snap that at least he had a figure to watch; all that time spent obsessively on the treadmill had flattened any curve Melev had ever hoped to have.

“Oh no,” Jungkook co*cked his head, “Sentinel Jung said I’d be training with him every morning. So I just want to watch my macros… did he not say he wanted to train you, too?”

Melev blinked, mouth opening, before she licked her lip and blustered, “Oh, of course, he did.”

Jimin, at this, shook his head, “You must be mistaken, Cadet. Sir only asked to see Jungkook, since he has special circ*mstances. You’ll be spending full days with the other Guides.”

Jungkook resisted the urge to laugh, as Melev’s face soured.

Jimin’s expression held no indication of malice; Jungkook was fairly confident that Jimin simply meant to correct Melev’s statement, rather than embarrass her.

Which made her resulting embarrassment all the more amusing.

“Right, sir. Anyways, aren’t you coming in? They put your luggage in here,” Melev said.

Jungkook blinked, blanching at the thought of sharing rooms with the other three Cadets. Stars knew what they’d plan on doing to him in his sleep. They were rude to him when they felt superior; Jungkook couldn’t imagine how malicious they’d be when their egos were being bruised.

“I told the servants to move it,” a raspy voice called from down the hall.

“Sir,” Jimin and Taehyung chorused, turning their head.

Jungkook glanced down the hallway, seeing Yoongi walk towards them. He seemed to have changed, wearing a beige linen undershirt tucked into heavy black pants. Casual pants. In fact, Yoongi wasn’t even wearing proper shoes. He was wearing house slippers. The shirt was loose enough that his neck and collar bones were fully on display, and the sleeves were short, ending at only his elbows.

And with all the skin on display, Jungkook noticed an odd speckling to Yoongi’s skin. Like freckles almost, except uniform, dark, and just a little too big to be regular freckles. They formed dotted lines across his skin.

Tattoos maybe? Jungkook thought to himself, unsure, continuing to stare.

“Taehyung. You can take Jungkook to the next room down. Seokjin arranged them all to share a room, but I don’t like having voyeurs when I f*ck, so we’ll be moving Jeon to his own room,” Yoongi turned towards Melev, giving her a look, “This way you won’t even have to share your Jeleva. Ideal isn’t it?”

"Yes, Sentinel Min.”

“You should call me, General,” Yoongi answered, glancing at Jimin, “Get his bags.”

“Yes, sir,” Jimin nodded, brushing past Melev to enter the room.

“Come,” Yoongi nodded towards Taehyung, “Lets get your Guide settled in.” Yoongi walked down the hall, not giving Taehyung a second glance, as if he knew his order would be followed.

Yoongi had a very different vibe than Jimin and Taehyung. Every time Yoongi entered a space, it was like a whip had been cracked, everyone standing at attention while the Sentinel snapped orders.

It was admittedly… very sexy.

Jungkook took a deep breath in. Deep breath out. He’d already been accused for being aroused inappropriately once today- he refused to let it happen again.

Carried in Taehyung’s arms, Jungkook watched Yoongi wave his wrist over the doorknob; the mechanism automatically unlocked in response.

Yoongi entered first, leaving the door open for Taehyung to follow.

The room…

The room was massive.

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen such a large bedroom in his life. He’d been in Crown-sponsored housing since he was five. He’d lived a comfortable life. But, none of that compared to the sheer luxury of this room.

Just the floor alone. Jungkook had expected a continuation of the clean white marble floors in the halls. Instead, it was a beautiful pink patterned tile; intricate, with certain smaller pieces shining less like tile and more like gemstone. Those stones were even multi-faceted.

Jungkook had the oddest feeling that Yoongi and Taehyung might be nonchalantly stepping on rubies.

His bounced over rest of the room. The walls were painted with designs, detailed swirls that one could still see the leftover paint strokes within. Beautiful wooden furniture- Jungkook hadn’t ever seen wooden furniture. It was a luxury beyond belief. Everything was made from plastics and synthetics. If the bases of the furniture were wooden; Jungkook didn’t want to know what they were upholstered with.

Massive windows lined the walls, perfect, spotless glass, with gold metal running through it, creating designs of women wearing crowns.

The room was bright and beautiful; it almost felt like it was overflowing with things. Jungkook’s eyes kept finding new curious things to focus on.

Plush fur rugs. Shiny, silky bedsheets, dozens of pillows, the comforter was embroidered.

And then, by chance, Jungkook’s eyes fell back upon Yoongi, who was giving Jungkook a smile.

“Like it?”

Jungkook blinked, “The room? Yes? Of course, I’ve never seen anything like it, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, crossing his arms. While Jimin and Taehyung had been posturing all afternoon, actively trying to impress Jungkook, Yoongi seemed to have no such proclivity. His response to Jungkook’s awe was fairly bland, as if it wasn’t much of an accomplishment. “Well, I’d sure hope so. This room is meant to impress royalty.”

“Well, thank you,” Jungkook said, giving him a genuine look, “I really appreciate not being in the same quarters as the others, we don’t exactly get along, sir.”

“I assumed. And even if you did, the differential treatment you’ll receive going forward will be enough to make anyone bitter,” Yoongi shrugged, turning his head towards the door, as Jimin walked in, carrying Jungkook’s bags. “Good boy, Jimin.”

“Of course, sir… What should he wear to dinner tonight? Truthfully, I didn’t see anything that he packed that appeared adequate,” Jimin asked, as he set Jungkook’s bags on the ground.

Yoongi sighed, eyes flicking towards the ceiling, “It’s the first night that he’s here, Jimin; we shouldn’t be that differential.”

“He’s my Guide, sir,” Jimin said, a mild whine entering his tone, “I’m allowed to spoil him.”

“Look at him, sir,” Taehyung said, bouncing Jungkook in his arms, “He’s adorable. Don’t you wish to show him off?”

Yoongi glanced in Jungkook’s direction, a tired sort expression gracing his features.

“No. He’ll wear his own clothes tonight.”

“Got it, sir,” Jimin and Taehyung answered, lips turning downwards in a frown.

“Good,” Yoongi nodded, turning towards Jungkook, raising an eyebrow, “I trust you can get dressed for dinner by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. It’s at 7. We will be here at 6:45 to escort you. Wear what you wish- you will be underdressed no matter what.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll see you in two hours. Use the time however you wish. I’d recommend a bath. There’s nothing more soothing than cold water.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll take one.”

Yoongi nodded at Jungkook once, before raising his gaze to meet Taehyung’s. “Put him down. Both of you are coming with me, Seokjin’s asking after you.”

Taehyung pouted in response, “Do I have to?”

“I don’t think I gave you another option.”

Taehyung paused, as if hesitating, before leaning his head down to press the tip of his nose to Jungkook’s hairline. “Will you be alright if I set you down?”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi sighed, exasperated.

“Wait, I want to make sure, sir,” Taehyung defended, “Will you be alright if I set you down?”

Jungkook resisted the urge to giggle. Genuinely, Taehyung and Jimin were ridiculous. There was absolutely no way that all of this was just from imprinting; this had to be generally what they were like, even without the influence of imprinting. There was just no way.

“Yes, sir. I can stand.”

Taehyung bit his lip, before slowly nodding, carefully bending his knees, and gently setting Jungkook on the ground, as if Jungkook was a priceless porcelain vase. Taehyung’s hands hovered inches away from Jungkook’s body for a few seconds, ensuring Jungkook had the balance needed to hold himself straight, before finally stepping away.

Jungkook shifted his weight from hip to hip, getting used to the feeling of standing again. He felt like he hadn’t stood on his feet in days, though it had only been a few hours. He wriggled his toes, which felt just the slightest bit stiff.

Truly, Jungkook may have to be careful how much he allowed Jimin and Taehyung to carry him. He didn’t think it would be a good thing to get in the habit of.

“Do your legs hurt?”

“Or maybe your hips?”

“I can give you a massage?”

Jimin and Taehyung were looking at Jungkook with concerned eyes; they both took one step forward before-

“Boys,” Yoongi snapped.

They both froze.

“We are leaving. Jungkook needs his space. You will see him again in two hours, and,” Yoongi gave Jungkook a stern look, “He won’t leave this room until we return. Is that understood?”

All three of them nodded.

“Good. Now out.”

—

Chapter 26: Chapter 24

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

Jungkook sighed to himself.

He’d taken Yoongi’s advice, choosing to soak in a salt bath for an hour. It had been pretty soothing all things considered, he’d appreciated the break.

The bathroom itself had Jungkook pausing in the doorway, because there was no way that was the bathtub. It looked like a sculpture. Or just decor. It was a large bath-shaped object, but it was a rock. It looked like it was made out of a red crystal or quartz or something. The inside of the bath was smoothed and polished, but the outside was left raw.

Jungkook felt like a Prince, filling the tub up with water and rose-smelling bathsalts.

As he soaked, he’d realized perhaps why Yoongi had been pushing for Jungkook to get some alone time so harshly. It had only been about ten minutes after the Sentinels left that Jungkook realized that his heart had been pounding.

It was only when Jungkook was finally calming down that he realized he hadn’t been calm in the first place.

Jimin and Taehyung must not have noticed it.

Yoongi had.

Jungkook wondered just what caused the sensitivity. Maybe Yoongi had better hearing? Or a mod?

Or really, it could have simply been that Yoongi was more observant. After all, while Jimin and Taehyung had been clinging to Jungkook and obsessing over everything; Yoongi had been standing a few meters away, just staring at Jungkook.

Yoongi was probably just more put-together than Jimin and Taehyung were. Or more attentive to detail, anyway.

Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror.

His best formal wear was, admittedly, not that great. He’d chosen a simple black turtleneck and slacks; the turtleneck was actual cotton and the slacks were a wool blend. They were expensive by nature of not being synthetic, but that was all that was notable about them. He didn’t have anything more expensive than that. Though, he supposed, it really wouldn’t matter much, if Jimin was really going to wrap a shawl made of Bangtan’s colors over his shoulders.

He had a decent bit of jewelry gifted to him when he was younger by wealthy Sentinel families, but a majority of it no longer fit.

He made it work. Two necklaces, one emerald and one diamond layered over his chest. His middle, ring, and pinky finger still had gold rings that fit. His bracelets were a little tight, but Jungkook managed to get them on.

He combed his black hair back, gelling it like that. Brushing his hair back showed off the sharp line of his jaw better. Jungkook was very glad his undercut had been cut recently; he would have crawled into a hole if he had to face the Crown Princess with a messy, grown-out undercut.

Briefly, Jungkook considered putting on some sort of makeup, before deciding against it. He wasn’t sure what the dress code really was, and it was better to be dreary than to be gaudy. One of those first impressions was easier to rectify than the other.

There was a knock on the door, but before Jungkook could even think of responding, the door was already opening. Jimin pushed his way in, followed close behind by Taehyung. Jungkook caught a faint glimpse of Yoongi, but it seemed like the man was choosing to wait in the hallway.

“Jungkook!” Jimin beamed, running forward and yanking Jungkook into a tight hug, “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you, too!” Taehyung’s lower voice called, before hugging Jungkook, too.

They were on both sides of Jungkook, practically crushing him between them. Jungkook loved it. His heart was swooning, but at the same time- it was difficult to breathe.

“Boys,” Yoongi’s voice snapped from outside the hallway, “What did I tell you?”

“Sorry, sir,” Jimin and Taehyung chorused, immediately taking a step back from Jungkook, giving him some breathing room.

This finally gave Jungkook the chance to get a good look of them. Jimin and Taehyung were dressed similarly. Jungkook was starting to think they did everything similarly. They were wearing black loafers, heavy, formal wool trousers, and silvery shirts tucked in. Dusky silver jewelry dripped over their joints, matching the grey diamonds in their ears.

They looked stunning. Like Princes.

Jungkook just stared for several moments, at the line of their neck, at the curve of their shoulders, the taper of their waists, and the peaks of their bones and joints.

They were his. All his.

Jungkook took a deep breath in, out, before questioning, “What?”

Jimin gave Jungkook a sheepish smile, “Sir told us not to crowd you so much. Something about giving you stress.”

“He’s like a baby bird. Would you crowd a baby bird?” Taehyung said, lowering his tone to mimic Yoongi’s raspy voice, “No. You’d give the poor thing a heart attack.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, “Oh… well, I really do appreciate the thought. I’m very very happy about being your Guide, though. I don’t really need space.”

Jimin nodded, vigorously turning his head towards Yoongi, “See! I told you!”

“He likes it!” Taehyung added, quickly giving Jungkook a kiss on the cheek.

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Yoongi said, shrugging a shoulder, “The rule stands.”

Jungkook giggled. Jimin and Taehyung were holding their hands behind their backs, shoulders slumped slightly; they looked like scolded children. Somehow, Jungkook had a feeling that Yoongi had done nothing but chide Jimin and Taehyung for the two hours they had been away from Jungkook.

Besides, Jungkook highly doubted the obsessive kind of exuberance that Jimin and Taehyung had been displaying prior could have been tamed from a five minute conversation.

Taehyung took notice of Jungkook’s clothes. “Organic… More compatibility gifts?”

Jungkook nodded, “Its a few years old, but it was one of the few formal clothes I had that fit.”

Jimin smoothed a hand over the fabric of the turtleneck, “It’s Terran cotton. They had poor taste.”

Jungkook blinked, surprised that Jimin could tell from the feel of it. Moreover, the fact that Jimin had an opinion on types of cotton. Maybe that was just something that came with wealth, Jungkook thought.

“Boys,” Yoongi warned, “You do not want to make me late.”

Jimin and Taehyung straightened slightly, practically jumping, before moving forward. Jimin pulled a silvery cloth from behind his back.

“This is for you,” Jimin said.

“Yoongi agreed to compromise,” Taehyung explained.

Yoongi steps inside the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and giving Jungkook a stern look. “If anyone asks you- You were cold, and Jimin gave you his shawl, understand? He’s always cold, anyway, it won’t be a surprise to anyone.”

Jungkook nodded.

Jimin extended the shawl out for Jungkook to see.

The shawl, Jungkook realized, staring at it, it was beautiful.

It was shades of grey, intricate stitching, with some threads seeming to almost glimmer.

Yoongi opened the door again, stepping out into the hallway, disappearing from sight. The three didn’t notice, continuing to stare at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.

“It was a birthday present from Seokjin,” Jimin said, wrapping the extremely soft fabric around Jungkook’s shoulders, “Radianian silk, Terra silver thread, and some off-planet wool. You can wear it for now until we can get you fitted for one of your own proper uniforms.”

“Ten seconds.” Yoongi’s voice echoed down the hall.

Jimin and Taehyung once again snapped into motion, gently corralling Jungkook out the bedroom, as they hastily called out, “Coming!”

Jungkook was pulled into the hallway; his bedroom door was closed behind him. Jimin and Taehyung practically pushing him in front of Yoongi.

Yoongi stared at the three of them with a raised eyebrow. “Two more seconds and it would have been beltings for the three of you.”

“B-Beltings?” Jungkook questioned, eyes widening.

A sharp grin lit up Yoongi’s face, “I’d be gentle… but little boys have to learn their lessons, don’t they?”

Jungkook swallowed, unable to maintain eye-contact. “Yes, sir.”

“Cute. Now come, the Princess values punctuality, and I don’t want her having a bad impression of you,” Yoongi nodded, gesturing for the three of them to begin walking down the hall.

Yoongi was dressed in all greys. Pale greys, but while Jimin and Taehyung wore sparkly silver colosrs; all of Yoongi’s attire was a flat matte. He wore no other jewelry, other than the grey diamonds in his ear. The thirteen diamonds in Yoongi’s ear were larger than the ones in Jimin’s and Taehyung’s ears though. Which was surprising considering the very ostentatious nature of the younger Sentinels.

Jungkook wondered what the reason was behind the discrepancy.

The older Sentinel nudged the younger trio forward, following them from the back.

“Oh, Jungkook! Did I tell you about this?” Jimin exclaimed, pointing at a vase on a decorative table.

Jungkook shook his head no.

“Well, it was a gift from the Emperor of Tyeri, we helped him clear some rebels that were hiding in the planet’s wilderness…”

Yoongi pressed his palms to Jimin and Taehyung’s shoulder blades, pushing them forward and ensuring that they kept moving. And perhaps Jungkook understood why Yoongi had to be so harsh with Jimin and Taehyung.

There were absolutely relentless.

Jungkook didn’t how how he’d ever manage to get them under control if Yoongi wasn’t present.

—

Jimin and Taehyung happily lead Jungkook into the dining hall. They practically had to pull him, because Jungkook was no longer taking proper steps.

No, he was glancing about the room. The hall. It was bigger than the academy’s atrium.

Rows upon rows of tables lined the room. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, was all a perfect, pristine white. Only the table decorations, a stark and vibrant violet (the Crown’s family color), offered any reprieve from the blanket of whiteness over the room.

It gave him an odd feeling. Jungkook wasn’t sure how to feel.

It was odder still, seeing how well Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi matched the white room. Their silvery formal clothes might have been distinct from the white, but if one squinted, they still disappeared into the background of the room nevertheless.

It was… alienating.

And despite the silver shawl wrapped around his shoulders- the gold on his fingers, wrists, and neck; the black of his turtleneck, pants, and shoes; they felt glaringly obvious.

A beaming sign that he didn’t belong.

That he wasn’t perfect? Maybe.

This felt worse still by Jungkook’s hair; a pitch black; while Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung’s were a bright platinum blonde.

It was every piece of this scene was designed solely to ensure Jungkook got the very strong impression that he was out of place.

In fact, the only thing that he seemed to match was the dark sky outside. Large arched windows lined the walls, dozens of meters high, showing off the starry night sky and its two moons. Though, admittedly, even the navy black sky felt lighter than Jungkook’s coloring.

“Jimin,” Seokjin called, “Choosing to join us, Dear?”

Jungkook’s head turned towards the sound of Seokjin’s voice. There was a table on a raised dais. A large one. Though it seemed like the majority of the seats were empty.

Two, three, four platinum blonde heads were clustered around the right end of the table. And then two black heads of hair, and one dark brown.

Wait… four platinum blonde Sentinels?

Jungkook sucked in a breath.

The Crown Princess.

She was here.

She was sitting at the head of the table.

Jungkook watched her turn her head to glance at him, and Jungkook stumbled over his steps at her gaze.

She was…

Beautiful.

There was legitimately no other word for it. Even beautiful didn’t really do her justice.

They walked closer, until they were at the foot of the dais, right in front of her, and Jungkook immediately bowed, hand pressed to his chest. His gaze firmly rested on the white marble floor, not daring to look up at her before he was given permission.

“Well, he does have impeccable manners.” Her voice was like music, chiming bells, a lilting flute, just beautiful. “I thought the Guide who almost burnt my favorite Academy branch to the ground would have a face to match the degenerate temperament, but, it appears I might have been wrong on both accounts.”

“Any damage was done on my behalf, Your Highness; I assure you that your beloved Vierna is still standing,” Yoongi rasped.

He seemed to be standing. Jungkook didn’t dare lift his head to check, but he figured that it wasn’t unreasonable to assume Bangtan and the Crown Princess were on casual enough terms to allow a simple ducked head instead of a proper bow.

“Oh, I’m very much aware of the fact. If that was not the case, I don’t think I’d be as lenient with your choice of Guides this season.”

“We very much appreciate your leniency.” Yoongi’s voice was the softest Jungkook had ever heard it.

Respectful. Even a tad submissive.

Jungkook entirely understood, however; Jungkook doubted he would even have the strength to look such a beautiful Sentinel in the eyes, let alone speak to her casually.

“I’m sure. I’d never put an imprinting Sentinel through so much distress without adequate cause.” There was a pause, filled with the soft rustling of fabric, and the sound of a chair sliding across the floor.

She was standing up, Jungkook realized.

“Rise,” her bell-like voice ordered, “I’d like to see the attempted arsonist.”

Jungkook looked up, and he was stunned.

Bright violet eyes looked down at him; framed by lovely long, blonde lashes. Her eyes were wide, doe-like, innocent; they looked like they were filled with stars. Her face was round, soft. Her cheekbones were high, but they weren’t sharp. Nor was her jaw. She seemed almost fairy-like.

Her hair was a pure platinum blonde. Long, straight, and shiny; it fell past her waist.

Over a fifteen perfect diamond studs lined her left ear. At the very bottom of the lobe of each ear, she had a delicate dangling earring that held a perfect pearl. A purely decorative earring that was only her and the Queen’s privilege to wear.

She was dressed in a robe of dozens of layers. One embroidered fabric peaking out underneath another, over and over; a thick belt of velvet wrapping around the smallest part of her waist. Her outermost layer was thin, almost like netting, lined with fur at the edges.

Her clothes perfectly matched her beautiful swirling white aura; which almost seemed like liquid silver.

However, what really struck Jungkook, what had him frozen in place, was her skin. Her skin was extremely pale, lined with faint blue veins. But it glowed. It was bioluminescent, glowing a beautiful silvery color; it created a little halo of light around her. The Princess was literally glowing.

Jungkook knew the Crown family had bioluminescence. Jungkook had seen videos of her ever since he was little. But still.

It was one thing to see it on a screen, and it was another for your eyes to have trouble making sense of the lighting because her skin seemed like an optical illusion.

She looked every bit the Moon Princess that she was coined as.

Crown Princess Ovieria Solia of the Ovieria family shined brighter than the moon.

She gave him a regal smile.

“You’re meant to take my hand and announce yourself, pet,” she said.

Jungkook blinked, brain stuttering as he finally noticed that her gloved hand was extended. He practically fell over himself reaching out and taking her hand. He definitely grabbed it too hard. Her hand felt practically weightless in his own, delicate.

Jungkook leaned forward, less hovering his head over the Princess’s hand and more full out knocking his forehead against her knuckles.

“Sorry- um, Jeon Jungkook, a Cadet, from Vierna.”

He felt the Princess pull her hand out of his own, “Charmed… Join us.”

Jungkook felt hands grip his shoulders and pull him back. It was Yoongi; he led him away from the Princess. Honestly, Jungkook was very grateful for the manhandling. At this point, he didn’t trust himself not to continue to make a fool out of himself. His face was burning; he had no doubt that his cheeks were a bright red. His stomach rolled in the beginnings of anxiety.

Jungkook was… very much out of his comfort zone.

As Yoongi led him to and practically dropped him into an empty seat, Jungkook realized that perhaps this was what allowed Melev to have such a strong superiority complex. Because, perhaps, she didn’t need to necessarily be better than Jungkook-

Not if this was the battlefield.

No, she just needed to look like she belonged.

Jungkook took a deep breath in. A deep breath out. Yoongi was seated beside Jungkook. Taehyung and Jimin were seated across from them. The table was set. Only appetizers were laid out. Small beancakes wrapped in leaves. It was a common dish; though Jungkook was sure the ingredients differed starkly in price point from those served in households across Terra.

Jungkook glanced at the others seated at the table.

Namjoon and Hoseok were dressed similarly to Jimin and Taehyung; all in silvery suit coats and grey shirts underneath. Their nine grey diamonds on their left ears glimmered beautifully. Seokjin, however, was wearing a pale lilac shirt, tucked in, though Jungkook couldn’t see what. From around his neck, he had a silver chain, from which a purple gemstone hung, a massive one, nearly as large as the broach pinning Jungkook’s shawl together. Except that violet stone was cut into the shape of a flower… Jungkook didn’t even know stones could be carved like that.

Jungkook wondered if Seokjin experienced neck pain from wearing such a heavy stone around his neck.

The Cadets were there, too. There were dressed in finery. Nothing close to what Bangtan or the Princess were wearing, but certainly better than Jungkook’s simple turtleneck and trousers. Though, really, what they were wearing was rather irrelevant, because Jungkook was the only one out of the four Cadets actually wearing silver. His shawl was eye-catching, and it was most lavish piece of clothing any of them were wearing.

It allowed Jungkook some dignity.

Not much though, not when Jungkook was almost certain that none of the other Guides had made nearly as many faux pas as Jungkook had when greeting the Princess.

Jungkook would keep his head down for today. Attempt to be invisible, and observe was everyone else was attempting to do. He’d be better prepared for next time; today, all he could do is cut his losses.

“I am surprised to see you here, Jimin,” the Princess said, “You so rarely grace us with your presence at dinner.”

“Right,” Seokjin added, leaning forward over the table to be able to see Jimin, “I don’t think you should eat today. You had a big meal just a short while ago.”

I don't think you should eat today? Jungkook repeated the sentence in his head, incredibly confused at the context. Has Jimin not eaten today? Does he do that regularly? Is something wrong with dinner?

Jungkook didn’t dare voice his questions out loud, though; he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He did make a mental note to ask Jimin about it later, though.

Jimin nodded, looking a little bashful, as he bit his lip, “I wasn’t planning on eating. I just wanted to join everyone today, sir.”

“You mean you wanted to join your new Guide, today,” the Princess summarized, “We don’t bite, Jimin. You could have left him to us.”

“I think,” Yoongi said, firmly, defending Jimin, “Jimin is simply feeling overly attached to Jungkook at the moment. Generally, he does find the thought of attending dinner nauseating; he means no disrespect by being absent from the table most evenings, Your Highness.”

“Yes,” Jimin nodded, “I apologize, Your Highness.”

The Princess waved a hand, lower lip jutting ever so slightly, “It’s fine; I just wish I could see your handsome face more often, little one. It’s disheartening for the most visually pleasing member of Bangtan to refuse my invitation so often.”

Jimin swallowed, seeming hesitant, “I will try to attend dinner more often, Your Highness.”

“Good,” the Princess said, perking up immediately; as if now that she had gotten what she wanted, she was ready to change subjects. “Now, as for you three. I have high expectations. Especially from you Thyria; the Likras never stop bragging of your accomplishments. I have to tell your father consistently that I don’t need to hear updates of his Guide daughter at the beginning of every conversation.”

Cadet Thyria, blinked, before blushing, deeply, ducking her head, “Thank you, Your Highness. I hope to live up to the rumors.”

“Oh I doubt any Guide can live up to a parent’s expectations,” the Princess hummed, “But… speaking of Advisor Huron Likra. Namjoon, he told me that the Gerians sent us a missive?”

Namjoon nodded. Even though the Princess had referred to him by name, Namjoon didn’t even flinch. Smoothly setting down his fork and making eye contact with her, “Yes, they indicated a desire to join our cause.”

“Ah, I do love when those who spurn me come to grovel decades later. Do you remember how harshly they turned us away when we were initially founding COAL?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Sir and I were part of the team that were sent to Geria.”

“Ah, yes. How could I forget your years running about and doing the manual labor yourself,” the Princess smiled, “Regardless, I don’t believe they deserve a second chance. They conduct trade with the Reuleans. I refuse to ally myself with someone that trades with terrorists.”

Namjoon grimaced, “They don’t solely trade with the Rueleans, Your Highness.”

Seokjin frowned, “Allying ourselves with someone who trades with them at all doesn’t make for good optics. Next, everyone will think they can trade with COAL’s enemies.”

“Exactly, Seokjin. We can’t afford to bring a race of such loose character into our midst,” the Princess lifted her crystal glass of unknown pale yellow liquid, taking a graceful sip.

“Perhaps, it’s not a sign of loose character? Decisions based on need shouldn’t be held to the same standards at those made in times of ease, Your Highness,” Namjoon said.

“Oh? So trading with terrorists is acceptable under certain conditions, Namjoon? Is that your argument?”

“The Rueleans haven’t done anything to the Gerians to my knowledge,” Yoongi murmured, voice soft. His expression looked distinctly odd. “If they haven’t caused the Gerians harm, I don’t see why the Gerians ought to have a negative opinion of them, Your Highness.”

“Because,” Seokjin said, voice harsh, gaze hard, as he looked at Yoongi, “We expect the Gerians to have basic empathy for the rest of the galaxy. The Rueleans have slaughtered thousands of our soldiers. They are terrorists.”

“I am curious when you’ll finally grow out of your stockholm, dear,” the Princess said, turning her head to offer Yoongi a sympathetic smile, “Perhaps a few more decades, hm?”

“My husband forgets himself,” Seokjin said, “I apologize, Your Highness.”

“Oh, no worries, cousin. He’s not a chimera. My expectations aren’t high,” the Princess said. The beautiful woman spoke so nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just insulted her military’s head engineer.

Jungkook watched a dim smile flicker on Yoongi’s face, “Thank you for your consideration, Your Highness.”

“Of course. One must know the limitations of their subordinates.”

“Astute of you, Your Highness. Similarly, there must be limits to our empathy with the Gerians. Do you not agree, Namjoon?” Seokjin asked, turning the conversation back to the former topic.

The Princess, Seokjin, and Namjoon began debating politics once again, leaving Yoongi alone. Jimin and Taehyung seemed like they were in their own world, chittering between each other. The other Guides were watching the eldest three Sentinels debate with wide eyes.

It seemed like the only people who felt the weight of the previous conversation were Jungkook and Yoongi.

Jungkook was in shock.

Yoongi…

Yoongi was the Crown’s Forces head of engineering.

He was the backbone of their military strength.

He was an honorary General, a part of Bangtan, a spouse of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon…

How?

Jungkook didn’t understand how the Princess could talk to him like that. Admittedly, Jungkook hadn’t been able to entirely keep up with the conversation but he had recognized Rueleans.

Rueleans were intergalatic terrorists who had revolutionized warfare with the Daechwita blasters they used.

And based on what Jungkook had seen when he was guiding Yoongi- Yoongi had been the one to make those blasters.

Maybe that was what the Princess had meant by stockholm syndrome? Jungkook could only guess that Yoongi had been captured and gone to jail for helping arm the terrorists, but- Yoongi must have only helped them because they had kidnapped him, right?

Why would a Terran Sentinel aid anti-COAL terrorists?

Why would Yoongi defend them in conversation?

…

Jungkook was very confused, and it seemed like he’d have to stay confused- because Yoongi certainly didn’t seem up to talking.

The Sentinel had his gaze settled onto his plate, shoulders rolling in on themselves slightly; the Sentinel didn’t speak much the rest of the night.

“I’m simply saying that the Gerians had a diversified trade portfolio before the formation of COAL. However, the expansion of COAL and our strict internal trade laws have taken away most of their original trade partners. If they have no one else to trade with, I don’t think we can blame them for using their only option, Your Highness.”

“I’d simply choose not to trade at all,” the Princess scoffed, “One must have some sense of character. Don’t you agree, Seokjin?”

Seokjin shrugged a shoulder, “If they really wanted our aid, they would have come to us first, Your Highness. They tried managing with the Rueleans first. They came to us when that didn’t prove profitable. I don’t appreciate being their second choice.”

“Exactly,” the Princess smiled, tilting her glass towards Seokjin, “You always see my point, Future Duke Kim.”

“My Grandfather is still alive, Your Highness.”

“Yes, yes. I simply meant to refer to our shared community as Sentinels of rank. How is your Grandfather though, Seokjin?”

“Well, I suppose. I haven’t seen him in a long while, Your Highness.”

“And the rest of your family?”

“Well, Your Highness.”

“Oh, truly? I’d heard that your family was struggling to dig up Koloft in your central mining sector. Perhaps I was mistaken?” the Princess questioned, tilting her head, “I’m not quite well-read on all the extensive manual labor it takes to get Koloft out of the ground. After all, my Uncle’s solar farms practically run themselves. I find them far more efficient, less muddying about in the dirt.”

Seokjin smiled, “Truly, I’m not sure. If they’re having any trouble, I’d imagine it’s with the Eleri. They were encroaching upon their district a couple decades ago, Your Highness.”

“Didn’t your family ask for our aid,” Hoseok asked, “Why didn’t we offer it?”

Seokjin shrugged, disinterested, “We were still in the process of cementing COAL. I didn’t want to divert our efforts to something that didn’t directly benefit our cause.”

Namjoon hummed, “I haven’t actually looked at the Eleri’s movements recently. We haven’t been focusing on the Sunset regions.”

“I’m sure they’ve quieted down,” Seokjin waved a hand, “I’m certain my aunt would have informed me if they were still struggling. After all, she knows I have the Crown Princess’s ear, Your Highness.” Seokjin said that smoothly; the compliment rolling off of his tongue effortlessly.

The Crown Princess hid a smile by sipping her drink. “You flatter me.”

“With nothing but the truth, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” the Crown Princess sighed, her lips twitching, “Though soon you’ll have both my ear and the ear of my consort.”

Hoseok co*cked his head, “You’re planning on following through with the engagement, Your Highness?”

“Everything’s set in motion. He just wishes to remain out of the spotlight until his schooling is completed. I have no objections to the request; he is welcome to spend a decade focusing on his schooling, if he so wishes.”

“Schooling?” Seokjin questioned, “He’s young, then, Your Highness?”

“Extraordinarily young,” the Princess nodded, “I’m hoping that means he has a more malleable temperament.”

“He’s a Wheyn, right, Your Highness?” Namjoon questioned.

The Princess nodded, lips turning down, “They’re one of those silly Null rights families.”

Jungkook blinked.

The Wheyn’s, as far as he knew, weren’t silly. They were the richest Null family on Terra. Their wealth rivaled some of the biggest Sentinel families.

They made ships. They held a personal contract for most, if not all, of COAL’s and the Crown’s fleets. But more than that- nearly any ship that left the atmosphere on Terra was stamped with the Wheyn name.

Terra would collapse without the Wheyns. The Wheyns were the ones who originally built the first spaceship; in fact, spaceships, for decades, used to be called Wheynships. It was only when there were too many different styles of ship for them all to be referred to by the same name that the term Wheynship finally fell out of popularity.

They might have been Nulls, but Jungkook would have thought the Crown Princess would have had more affectionate feelings towards the family that helped build the modern Terra of today.

Apparently not.

“I’m sure he’ll understand his place, Your Highness,” Seokjin sighed, a condescending sound that didn’t seem to be directed towards anyone seated at the table, “He’s a Null without a title, after all. I doubt he knows the first thing about the Senate hearings, let alone all the responsibilities that are required of a Terran monarch.”

“I do hope so,” the Princess’ lips twisted slightly, “We did have to ask their favor, rather than the other way around, so he will be choosing his title.”

“Even if he does end up taking the title of Crown Prince rather than Crown Consort, it might be of aid to have someone of a new perspective. After all, the lack of perspective in our governance is what led us to this situation in the first place, Your Highness,” Namjoon said.

The Princess looked at Namjoon, “I don’t think anything led us to this situation other than the narcissism that’s beginning to run rampant amongst middle class Nulls.”

“They’re coming into wealth and contributing to society; I can see why they’d want the same respect we grant to Sentinel families,” Namjoon offered.

The Princess hummed, examining one of the many rings on her finger, “Sentinel families are reliable. They have proven to be strong generation after generation. Just because these families are having a good few decades by happenstance, doesn’t entitle them to Terra groveling at their feet.”

“Groveling-,” Namjoon paused, biting his lip, before nodding, “You’re right, Your Highness. Terra can’t afford to depend on Nulls.”

The Princess gave Namjoon a warm smile. “Quite astute of you, Namjoon. We can only trust ourselves. There is no replacement for good breeding.”

“Terra is very lucky to be entrusted in your hands, Your Highness,” Seokjin said.

“Thank you, dear,” the Princess said, “Now. Enough of this dreary business. It seems like my Mother will not be making an appearance. Let us eat.”

The Princess waved a hand, and suddenly a dozen servers were swarming them, setting trays upon the table and portioning food onto Jungkook’s plate.

Jungkook recognized none of it.

And, admittedly, none of it looked very appetizing.

This… this was going to be a very long dinner.

Chapter 27: Chapter 25

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Dessert had been served ten minutes ago. The Princess and Seokjin were in the middle of a strongly worded debate about the newest fashions released by a very exclusive designer that Jungkook had never heard of.

Jungkook had taken two bites of it, before giving up; it was incredibly bitter and salty. He didn’t like it at all. Just like everything else that had been served tonight- apart from the humble appetizer- everything had been an acquired taste.

Jungkook had sat for a four course meal and was still incredibly hungry.

He had hardly eaten at all.

Whereas, by his glances at the other Cadets, they seemed to have no issue with the food. In fact, Jungkook would guess that they rather enjoyed it. Melev had even found the courage to ask for seconds of a specific dish that Jungkook couldn’t stomach for how utterly burnt it tasted.

The rest of Bangtan were chattering, and the Cadets were whispering amongst themselves.

In fact, the only ones that seemed to have any issue were Jungkook and Yoongi. They both had been mostly silent for the course of dinner. Jungkook wasn’t sure if Yoongi was always silent, or if it was solely for Jungkook’s benefit, but he appreciated it, either way.

Jungkook forced himself to steady his heart to the sound of Yoongi’s breathing. Just as the second course was served, Yoongi had placed his hand on Jungkook’s thigh. That hand didn’t so much as twitch over the course of the night.

Yoongi ate entirely one-handed, and he did it with ease.

His hand was heavy, large; it not only spanned the entire width of Jungkook’s thigh, but even curled around the inside of it. Jungkook didn’t know why- but it had been his only source of comfort.

Jungkook had been in so many uncomfortable situations during his three years at the Academy; he’d never so much as spoken to another person about it. Even with Baekhyun, Jungkook never brought it up. Baekhyun would express indication over how Jungkook was being treated, but Jungkook, himself, always kept mum.

So, he wasn’t sure why these few hours had made him feel so incredibly small, and why the weight of Yoongi’s hand on his thigh had felt so very sweet.

All Jungkook knew was that he was very tired, and he very much wanted to crawl into bed… and potentially cry himself to sleep.

He’d see how the rest of the night unfolded.

Yoongi cleared his throat, standing up. The hand that had once been on Jungkook’s thigh shifted to rest on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Your Highness, I think my Guide and I will retire early.”

The Princess stared at the two of them for a moment. Jungkook felt the weight of her violet gaze; her wide, innocent eyes held a weight much darker than her doll-like face would imply. There was something about her, about how she talked.

The Moon Princess made Jungkook uneasy.

Very uneasy.

“Oh,” Jimin jumped, beginning to get up from his chair.

“We can come with you!” Taehyung said.

“No.” Yoongi stated. His gaze remained on the Princess; he didn’t even look Jimin and Taehyung’s way. “He’s mine tonight.”

He’s mine tonight.

Jungkook swallowed.

Yoongi hadn’t shown him much attention today. Maybe this was how he was going to make up for it?

He’s mine tonight.

That had… implications. There was a lot of implications to Yoongi wanting to be the only one to walk him back to his bedroom.

Jungkook was a virgin.

Of course, if Yoongi wanted to f*ck him; Jungkook would undoubtedly let him. Jungkook had been fantasizing about the man for years.

But.

This was a little sudden, even for an obsessive fanboy like Jungkook.

Jungkook would have appreciated prior notice. To clean himself out. Or, at the very least learn how unhinge his jaw.

“Of course,” the Princess waved a hand, “I can understand the desire to break your new pet in.”

Jungkook swallowed again.

There it was again. That nickname.

Pet.

The first time, it had felt like a simple nickname. This time, however, it almost made Jungkook grimace. He didn’t like it.

Not at all.

“Thank you, Your Highness. Come Jungkook. We’ll be taking our leave.”

Yoongi took a step back, giving Jungkook the space needed to stumble up from his seat and get away from the table. As soon as Jungkook was standing properly upright, Yoongi pressed a hand to Jungkook’s lower back. The Sentinel led Jungkook out of the room, calmly, without another word.

The guards, dressed in grey, opened the dining hall doors for them. Yoongi didn’t acknowledge him.

Their shoes were the only sound they made; Jungkook and Yoongi walked down the hall in silence. There was a thump, indicating that the dining hall’s doors had closed behind them.

Jungkook inhaled, louder, lips parting, as he was about to speak. He wanted to apologize for how the Sentinel had been called out at dinner- only for Yoongi to stop and firmly press a finger to Jungkook’s parted lips. Yoongi gave him a firm look, holding the position for several moments, as if wanting to ensure Jungkook got the message: Quiet.

Jungkook nodded, slow and unsure.

Yoongi nodded in return, sharp and militant, before continuing to lead Jungkook away from the dinning hall.

Jungkook was… incredibly confused.

He thought Yoongi had wanted to f*ck him, but, as far as Jungkook’s admittedly limited knowledge, this wasn’t how someone with romantic intentions would act. Rather, Yoongi almost seemed tired. Moreover, after how dinner had gone, Jungkook wouldn’t imagine that would put anyone in the mood to… fool around.

Jungkook, though, remained silent.

He didn’t dare speak until he was given permission to.

It was nearly a fifteen minute walk back to Jungkook’s room. The path had them going up seven flights of stairs and down a dozen long hallways, before finally reaching the familiar wing that housed his bedroom. The palace was truly a maze; Jungkook wasn’t sure how he’d ever manage to navigate the place without aid.

They walked past the vase Jimin had pointed out on their way to dinner.

Jungkook exhaled, relaxing at the sight, and one of Yoongi’s fingers, of the hand that was on the small of his back, tapped against his skin, warning him to stay quiet.

When they stopped in front of Jungkook’s bedroom door, Yoongi’s hand finally dropped from Jungkook’s back. It was out of necessity. Yoongi had to wave his wrist over the door knob to unlock it. Yoongi held the door open, tilting his head in a silent order for Jungkook to go in.

Jungkook ducked his head, slipping through the door way.

Yoongi followed close behind, shutting the door. And it was only after Jungkook’s bedroom door had clicked shut did Yoongi seem to relax.

“Stars,” Yoongi chuckled, back against a wall, arms crossed, as he lightly hit his head against the wall.

“Sir?” Jungkook questioned, confused at Yoongi’s sudden shift in demeanor.

“The hallways aren’t sound-proof. Don’t speak in the halls, unless you don’t mind the hundreds of Sentinels in a five mile radius eavesdropping on you,” Yoongi explained.

“Oh.”

“In other news, you managed adequately. That went about how I expected it to go.”

Jungkook frowned. That was adequate?

“I embarrassed myself,” Jungkook said, “I don’t think that’s adequate.”

“They wanted to show you your place. Which is unfortunate, but no amount of preparation would have prevented that from happening. Do you think it was an error that the Princess only complimented the other Guides? Why the appetizer was something you could eat, and the rest of the courses were inedible to your palate? Besides, she doesn’t normally snap at me like that; that was merely because I took responsibility for you.”

Jungkook blinked.

“Though I guess, a naive little fool like you probably needed to be tossed into the fire a little,” Yoongi sighed, lolling his head to the side to look at Jungkook, “You did seem just a little too happy, hm?”

“Sir?” Jungkook frowning, confused by Yoongi’s words. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“You embarrassed yourself multiple times. Plus, your own Sentinel got a tongue lashing,” Yoongi said, “You were cognizant during dinner, right? Or did you black out?”

“I was cognizant, sir.”

“Well, then, there you go. Hopefully the rose-tinted glasses have come off.”

“Hopefully, sir?” Jungkook repeated, not sure what Yoongi was trying to get him to understand.

The Sentinel turned his head, giving Jungkook a look. Jungkook wasn’t sure what the underlying meaning in Yoongi’s expression was. “You seemed happy with your situation.”

“My situation, sir?”

“Being a Guide to Bangtan.”

“An honor, sir,” Jungkook answered. He didn’t have to think about it for even a second. It was an honor.

“An honor?” Yoongi repeated.

“Being here is my life’s greatest achievement, sir,” Jungkook answered, sure, confident. Tonight had been confusing, but that was something Jungkook would always believe.

He had fought tooth and nail to be here.

“That’s incredibly small-minded of you to say.”

“I beat out hundreds of Guides to get where I am, sir.”

“Hundreds of Guides have been where you are. They all died before their time.”

“That’s a result of their own incompetency. I’m different, sir.”

“And if you end up dying?”

“That would be an honor.”

“That would be an honor…” Yoongi repeated, slowly, giving Jungkook a stern look as he did.

“Sir,” Jungkook finished, correcting himself, “That would an honor, sir.”

“Good,” Yoongi said, “I am lenient. Not that lenient. I am your sir.”

Your sir.

The words repeated in Jungkook’s head, over and over again. He felt faint. He was General Min Yoongi’s. Jungkook was his Guide.

He belonged to Min Yoongi.

He could kneel at Yoongi’s feet all day if he wished. He had earned that right. Jungkook couldn’t imagine a better achievement.

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook said, nodding his head, probably too enthusiastically for the odd ambiance of the moment.

“You like that, Jeon? You like that I’m the one giving you orders?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know what’s happened to the other Guides I’ve been in charge of, don’t you?”

“You keep bringing them up, sir,” Jungkook frowned, taking a step forward; his petulance over-ruling the respectful distance he had been trying to maintain. “What do bodies rotting on a battlefield lightyears away have to do with me?”

Yoongi scoffed, giving Jungkook an a slightly incredulous look. “We always bring our Guides home. They get proper burials.”

“I’m your Guide, sir.”

“Yes, and I’ll be bringing you home next.”

“Guides die from their own incompetency.”

Yoongi took a step forward. Yoongi seemed to loom over Jungkook. A sharp glint to his eyes, a slant to his eyes; his hand came up to hold Jungkook’s jaw; the tips of the Sentinel’s fingers pressed into the point of Jungkook’s jawbone. The contact seemed to burn.

Yoongi tilted Jungkook’s face, making it so that Jungkook was looking at him by craning his neck instead of looking up with his eyes.

“You would be content with that end?” Yoongi asked. The Sentinel leaned in; their faces only a few inches apart.

Yoongi smelled so good.

Like lilies on a lake.

Jungkook had only ever seen a lake once, many years ago, when he was just a schoolboy, but the Sentinel’s scent immediately took him back to that day.

Crisp turquoise water, wild flowers lining the lakeshore. Calm. Tranquil. Jungkook had spent all day swimming, thankful for the opportunity to leave the school campus.

“Jungkook.”

The Guide blinked, attention snapping back into the moment.

Yoongi tilted his head. “I asked you a question.”

“Which was, sir?”

“You would be content with dying?”

Jungkook paused. He thought about it. Was he content with dying on a battlefield? Truthfully, the Guide couldn’t even imagine such a thing happening. There has never been something he hadn’t excelled at.

Guiding aside, of course.

Jungkook couldn’t picture himself dying a soldier’s death.

But if he did- would he regret any of his decisions? Would he have done anything different if he knew that he’d end up bleeding out in a war zone?

No.

The answer was immediate. This was all Jungkook had wanted for three years. He’s bled and sweat and cried for this opportunity.

For the honor to be here.

General Min Yoongi was speaking to him.

In a way, that was victory in itself.

“I would.”

Yoongi leaned forward; his breath fanned over Jungkook’s skin. Yoongi was so close. His amber-colored eyes were boring into him; almost hawkish in the way they seemed to be inspecting every twitch of Jungkook’s face.

“Would you die for me, Jungkook Jeon?” Yoongi rasped. He whispered the words over Jungkook’s mouth; he pulled Jungkook a step closer with his grip on the Guide’s jaw.

Jungkook’s body was pressed against Yoongi’s. Both their clothes were too thick for it to be intimate, but even still, Jungkook could feel the points of Yoongi’s medals and buttons press into his skin.

The Sentinel tilted his head.

He was going to kiss Jungkook.

He was going to kiss Jungkook.

Jungkook was going to be be kissed by General Min Yoongi.

The Sentinel’s fingers dug into Jungkook’s skin, making Jungkook crane his head even further, bringing his lips even closer to Yoongi’s.

“I asked you a question, Jungkook Jeon.”

“Yes,” Jungkook whispered, feeling as though the answer was undeniable, “Anything you want.”

A pause.

Yoongi’s fingers left Jungkook’s jaw; the Sentinel pulled away, taking a step back. Jungkook felt he’d jumped into a tub of ice water; the world suddenly felt sharp and bright and cold.

The Sentinel brushed his clothes, as if he was attempting to clear any sign that he’d been touching Jungkook to begin with.

Jungkook felt rejected.

He supposed that he was rejected.

He didn’t understand why. Would you die for me, Jeon Jungkook? Was there any other way to answer that question but saying yes? Being given the opportunity to die for Bangtan was all Jungkook had wanted.

“Sir?” Jungkook questioned.

“Yes?” Yoongi answered, giving Jungkook a look that couldn’t be described as anything other than disappointed.

“Did I… Did I do something wrong, sir?” Jungkook wanted to take a step forward, to close the sudden gap between them, but he knew better.

The Sentinel sighed; his platinum blonde hair falling onto his forehead, as if to temper the visible disinterest on Yoongi’s face.

“No, Jeon,” Yoongi said, no longer making eye-contact with Jungkook, “Not wrong. I just had higher expectations.”

The word expectation sparked circuits in Jungkook’s brain, immediately putting words on the tip of Jungkook’s tongue.

“I’ll meet them. Just give me a chance; I will exceed your expectations.”

“Jeon,” Yoongi sighed, as if this was also the wrong answer.

“I will. I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

Yoongi closed his eyes; it was too long to be a blink; and then he nodded to himself, “There is something that requires my attention. I will have to excuse myself.”

He’s… leaving? Jungkook watched as Yoongi once again brushed his clothes, before beginning to turn on his heel, in order to leave. Yoongi was legitimately just going to leave after all of this.

He can’t leave.

Not like this.

Somehow, Jungkook just knew that if Yoongi left now, with his opinion of Jungkook as it was at the moment- there would be no second chance. Jungkook got the sense that he had epically failed whatever Yoongi had been testing him for.

Yoongi didn’t seem like the type to offer second chances, nor the type to tolerate failure.

His treatment of Jimin and Taehyung was indicator enough of that.

Jimin and Taehyung were some of the most impressive people on the planet, and Yoongi still managed to find reasons to beat them. If Yoongi couldn’t tolerate their flaws, there was no way he was going to tolerate Jungkook’s.

I’ll be the best Guide you’ve ever had,” Jungkook said, a final attempt at trying to win Yoongi’s favor, to try and win back eye-contact, to try and get that kiss that he was owed.

The Sentinel huffed.

He glanced at Jungkook, pausing in his movements, body still half-tilted away from Jungkook.

Yoongi’s lips twitched at the corners. “That much, I’m well aware of, Jungkook.” The Sentinel’s eyes flicked up, not nearly as intense as before, but giving Jungkook his attention once again, “I have no doubt about that.”

“It’s true, though.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi sighed, a flicker of warmth on his face, “You set fire to the main room of Vierna just to get to me. I’m very aware of your excessive motivation.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, trying to convey the sheer determination he felt. “I won’t let you get rid of me, sir. I’ll chain myself to you before I leave your side.”

The Sentinel smiled. It a small, dim smile. But it was a smile.

“Good. Don’t let anything take you from my side.”

“I won’t, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, before sighing.

“I came here to attempt to debrief tonight. I feel guilty for not explaining better beforehand, but after thinking about it, I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you; I am not the person to verbalize unspoken rules, and I don’t think Seokjin seems up to speaking with you quite yet.”

“I felt lost tonight, sir.”

“You will never stop feeling lost. You just become accustomed to the feeling.”

Jungkook frowned, “I’ll acclimate, sir. I’ll become-”

“Too good for them to ignore you?” Yoongi finished, shaking his head, “How well did that work for you at Vierna?”

Jungkook was silent.

It hadn’t worked at all.

Jungkook was the best, and he was still mocked and isolated by the students and faculty.

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi said, “They don’t like you because of some incompetency. It is merely because of who you are.”

“But- Her Highness seemed upset about Vierna, sir.”

Yoongi shrugged a shoulder. “Her Highness held her Crowning ceremony there. It was the last public event the Queen attended. You ruining that place was practically a direct insult to Her Highness. I’m sure she treasured the memory of her Mother attending that night.”

Jungkook paused. This was the first time he had genuinely thought about the actual damage he had done. He had known it was damage. He had known that he had destroyed the entrance to the academy.

It all seemed to be worth the end.

The ends had justified the means in his mind.

But he had never truly sat down and thought about his actions.

“I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to insult the Crown Princess,” Jungkook whispered, barely able to say the words. He felt faint.

“You know. I know. And she likely knows, but that doesn’t erase the insult. Nor does it make the fact that one of her Generals has taken a liking to you any less grating.”

“Should I apologize?” Jungkook asked, even though he was unable to imagine himself speaking directly to Her Highness ever again. He’d rather jump off a cliff than face her again.

“Seokjin has already donated near a billion credits to the Academy in apology.”

“A… A billion credits?” Jungkook repeated, unable to even picture that sum of money in his mind.

Yoongi nodded slowly, as if Jungkook’s surprise at the number was more odd than the number itself. “It’s nothing more than change for Seokjin,” Yoongi waved a hand, “And Her Highness. She just wanted to punish you for it, and she did. That’s over with, now.”

“Oh… I’m sorry… I didn’t realize,” Jungkook trailed, feeling inklings of guilt over his actions, while simultaneously knowing that he wouldn’t have done anything different.

“You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m the one you pulled out of a zone. I’m thankful. The point is- your actions are not what people hold against you. You’re an untraditional Guide from a nameless family. No one will like you.”

“But… I’m your Guide.”

Yoongi’s lips quirked up, “What makes you think they like me? You were cognizant during dinner. ”

Jungkook opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Jungkook had seen what had happened at dinner. How the Princess had spoken to him. How Yoongi had gone silent for the entirety of dinner.

“That was mostly a joke. Somewhat. Seokjin wouldn’t tolerate one of his husbands being in bad form, but regardless. Some of us are just odd men out.”

Odd men out.

Part of Jungkook felt like Yoongi didn’t deserve that term.

Yoongi was an heavily decorated military Sentinel who lived in the palace. There were only a handful of people on the planet with a higher rank than Yoongi. Yoongi was renowned the world over for his genius. His designs were utilized throughout both the Crown’s forces and COAL’s.

Yoongi was odd, certainly, but only in the way that he was exceptional from the masses.

He couldn’t imagine Yoongi having any troubles.

Except…

Yoongi had made weapons for intergalactic terrorists.

Jungkook hadn’t known prior to guiding Yoongi. All Jungkook had known was that Yoongi was a rescued prisoner of war. The fact he had invented Daechwita blasters wasn’t common knowledge amongst the public, but it seemed to be casual dinner conversation amongst the Princess and the rest of Bangtan.

Moreover, she didn’t seem worried about anyone overhearing her.

The palace is full of Sentinels, full of the most talented Sentinels on the planet. There was no way the dinning room was fully sound-proofed. It would have to look like an underground bunker for that to be the case.

This ought to have been a sensitive topic of conversation.

Then, again, Jungkook thought to himself, they hadn’t mentioned anything about the blasters. The Princess implying stockholm is just a dig at sympathy towards Yoongi having sympathy towards them. If everyone knows Yoongi was a rescued prisoner of war, then surely most older Sentinels would be able to piece together who he was rescued from. If COAL was doing one of their larger pushes against the Rueleans at the same time that he was introduced to society then… It wouldn’t be a big leap.

Does she know? Jungkook wondered.

Does Princess Solia know that the Sentinel who revolutionized war was in her ranks?

If she did… well, speaking to Yoongi in that way might be her way of keeping him in line and knowing his place.

The thought was repulsive to Jungkook. Yoongi ought to bow to no one. Yoongi was his Sentinel; he deserved respect.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Yoongi said, shaking his head, “I know it’s confusing but nothing is that complicated. Just follow orders and try not to shoot any more chandeliers.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Sentinel rolled his shoulders, “It’s time for bed. You’ve had a long and grueling day, and I am far too tired to maintain the patience I ought to have with you.”

“I can continue to talk, sir.”

Yoongi looked at Jungkook, just staring at him for a second, likely eavesdropping on Jungkook's vital signs. “No,” he shook his head, palming his face, “For now, you’ll be attending training with the other Guides stationed here at the palace. You’ll be meeting with Hoseok regularly and at his discretion. Focus on making sure you gain Hoseok’s approval. If he is not suitably convinced of your capability- you will never so much as touch a battlefield. Understand?”

“Yes, sir, but- I’m your Guide-”

“He's my husband, and I refuse to make him watch a Guide die that he knew shouldn't have been on the battlefield. He’ll feel as though he murdered you. And his mental wellbeing is more important to me than your desires. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Yoongi nodded, "I will leave you to rest. I’m sure you are exhausted. Feel free to sleep in as long as you wish. I will inform Jimin and Taehyung that you aren’t to be disturbed until you actually wake up.”

The Sentinel stood up, turning to leave, and the sight of him leaving had Jungkook reaching out, as if to fist the fabric of Yoongi’s suitcoat and pull him closer.

Watching Yoongi leave suddenly reminded Jungkook of something else.

Of how Jungkook had originally thought this night was going to go.

He didn’t think Yoongi would be leaving. Not this soon, anyway.

“Wait! Aren’t you- I thought we were going to…” Jungkook glanced at the bed.

Yoongi turned around in time to see Jungkook’s eyes flick towards the unrumpled sheets. The Sentinel cracked a smile. “As if I’d f*ck you tonight- like this. I know I’m blunt, but I’m not rude.”

“But…”

“Yes?”

“You could at least kiss me.”

Yoongi grinned, “But then I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Jungkook huffed, realizing that regardless of how flustered and nervous he’d been at the idea, he’d been rather excited to get f*cked by General Min Yoongi. And now that he knew that wasn’t happening, he was undoubtedly disappointed.

He’s teasing me.

I’ve been co*ckblocked.

He didn’t even kiss me.

“No,” Yoongi said, stern, “Rest- And I’ll send a maid with some peasant food for you to eat. I know you didn’t eat well tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook nodded. He was conflicted between feeling appreciative that Yoongi noticed he hadn’t eaten well and cared enough to personally ensure Jungkook ate and feeling rather offended that Yoongi thought the food Jungkook would enjoy was peasant food.

Everyone in this palace had a superiority complex, Jungkook was beginning to realize.

Yoongi nodded, turning around once again. The Sentinel walked towards the door, “You did very well today, Jungkook. I expect great things, starting with you sleeping well tonight.”

Jungkook didn’t even have time to respond, before Yoongi had left the room.

And, Jungkook didn’t even have time to feel unwanted before he heard the lock in his door click.

Yoongi had locked him in.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was flattered or unsettled by the fact.

Chapter 28: Chapter 26

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

Jungkook didn't know why he had thought he'd somehow get used to his new reality. He went to bed with a stomach full of simple meals that reminded him of home and thought to himself that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

Anyone would be intimidated when faced with the Crown Princess, surely even most noble Sentinels felt uncomfortable the first time they visited the palace, let alone met the leader of their country.

The taste of familiar food on his tongue and a warm bed had Jungkook’s anxiety calming. Jungkook had just had a culture shock.

That was all it is.

Everything would feel more normal in the morning. That’s what Jungkook had thought.

Jungkook had been wrong.

The next morning, he had woken up to Jimin and Taehyung bursting through his door and jumping on top of him. Hands pet his face and ran over the lines of his bare arms, voices cooed for him to wake up and whispered praise for his shirtless body.

Jungkook opened his eyes; he was met with bright platinum blonde hair, diamonds flashing in the morning light, and silvery clothing that boasted heavy glare. It hurt his sleepy eyes.

Jungkook groaned, unable to react the way he knew he should because this was Jimin and Taehyung, the Jimin and Taehyung, his soulmates- but, stars, it was too early for this. He squirmed, shifting from on his back to on his stomach, hiding his face in his pillow.

“Jungkook? What’s wrong?”

“Aren’t you happy to see us?”

“Do you think he’s sick, Min?”

“I dunno, Tae.”

Jungkook knew he should respond. He knew that. Honestly, Jungkook was a morning person; he was always bright and chipper, even at 7 AM. It was something that drove Baekhyun absolutely crazy.

But for some reason, Jungkook just couldn’t. He was so tired, and facing the bright light of day and the equally bright light of Jimin and Taehyung just felt so very cold.

His sheets were warm; the dark behind his eyelids was comforting.

“Oh.” Jimin said, “Oops.” The hands stroking his chest and stomach left his body.

“Oh,” Taehyung seemed to mimic, “Oops.” The hands that had been tangled in his hair disappeared.

“Remember? Yoongi said that we had to wake him up softly,” Jimin said, voice getting meek, “We forgot.”

“Uh oh,” Taehyung said in a similar tone, “We’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

“He told us three times,” Jimin seemed to whine, “How did we forget?”

“I- I just got so excited,” Taehyung whined back, “You should have remembered!”

“I was excited, too!”

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, getting louder and louder.

“We’re in so much trouble,” Jimin whispered.

There was a soft creak of Jungkook’s door opening.

“Yes, you are,” Yoongi’s raspy voice answered, “Off his bed. Now.”

Jungkook felt both Sentinels scramble off of his bed, the dips in the mattress disappearing. The Guide exhaled, stiff shoulders relaxing slightly; his arms, that had been covering head, moved his sides. His fingers slid across the soft, silky sheets, taking in their luxurious texture.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Jungkook was so used to feeling capable; he didn’t understand how he could feel so out of control within moments of waking up. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t like it.

You’re Jeon Jungkook; you’ve faced much worse than this.

The hardest part is over.

You’re here.

It’s a privilege to be here.

You’ve got your prize.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open, slow and wary; Jungkook’s gaze met Yoongi’s. The Sentinel was standing near the entrance of Jungkook’s bedroom, arms crossed, dressed in simple clothing.

Jeans. A simple cotton shirt.

“Get up, Jeon,” Yoongi said; his voice was stern, like an order, but his expression was comforting somehow; or, maybe, that was just Jungkook starting to associate Yoongi’s face with safety.

Jungkook followed the order without really even thinking, getting out of bed, feet hitting the unexpectedly warm tile floor, before looking back at Yoongi waiting for his next order.

There was a small smile on Yoongi’s face, though it was anyone’s guess if it was for Jungkook’s obedience or his undoubtedly messy hair.

“Good. You’re getting pampered today. Enjoy it, you won’t have such easy days going forward.”

This statement seemed to spark indignation in Jimin and Taehyung, both of them stepping forward, palms hitting the mattress, mouths opening to speak-

“Ah- Not a word out of both of you. Despite your best efforts to spoil him, he will be nothing but aching feet and sore muscles once he joins the others at the barracks,” Yoongi glanced at Jungkook, “You and the other Guides are getting fitted for uniforms. You’ll only be interacting with the tailor, who, despite her ego, is hardly anyone you need to concern yourself over. If these two start overwhelming you, just call for me- I’ll be palace-side today.”

Palace-side? Did that mean that Yoongi didn’t normally spend his days at the palace? Where did he go…

Yoongi did have a mechanic space, didn’t he? Perhaps that’s what he’s referring to.

Jungkook thought about the massive warships that were built under Yoongi’s direction; it made sense that they were built somewhere else. Some of those ships were practically palaces within themselves.

“Jungkook. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook said, snapping back into reality and nodding.

“Good,” Yoongi looked at Jimin and Taehyung with a frown, “This was strike two. A third and I’ll have both of you struggling to sit for a month, you understand?”

Jimin and Taehyung flinched; it was almost comical the way their posture suddenly became militant, with both of their feet snapping shoulder-width apart, shoulders pushed back, gaze locked straight ahead.

“Yes, sir.”

Yoongi stared at them a moment; his gaze flicked up and down their forms, as if he was deciding whether their obedience was passable. It must have been, because he nodded to himself, before turning on his heel. As he walked away he raised a hand in goodbye.

“I’ll see you three at dinner.”

—

“Boys,” Seokjin said.

The Sentinel stood in the doorway. The silver Bangtan uniform always seemed so odd on Seokjin. On one hand, it suited him so well. There were three big variations of Bangtan’s uniform. The simple one, with a heavy, woven button-up, high-collar top, tucked into pants of a similar fabric; Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to prefer that. Then there was the one Jimin and Taehyung favored, where their high-neck tops came with a short, waist-length cape that draped romantically over their shoulders, paired with thigh-high boots.

Seokjin and Namjoon, however, wore full floor-length capes, which fell over their shoulders heavy and dramatic. Floor-length capes tended to be reserved for heads of houses; it wasn’t a written social code dictated by the crown the way earrings were, but it was known, nonetheless.

Floor-length capes were a self-proclaimed sign of importance that could have gossip sparking about you in secret if people thought you were acting full of yourself by claiming to be more important than you actually were.

Jungkook doubted, however, that Seokjin ever felt worried about public opinion. He’s always been adored. In very dated documents from nearly a century ago, Seokjin, in his youth, was even referred to as the Crown’s little Apollo, as the Crown Princess’ sun cousin. It was grand praise. Everyone loved Seokjin. The press, to this day, only had sparkling praise for Seokjin. Seokjin was one hundred and thirty-five years old, and he had a stunning reputation as a smart and charming heir to a Dukedom. A Sentinel that had brought pride to his house in every way; a devoted son who had traveled the galaxy with his mother following his parents’ separation.

The confident, eye-catching nature of Bangtan’s uniform suited Seokjin. The medals glittering on his chest. The nine grey diamonds and the single clear diamond in his ear. The cape. It all suited him. He deserved the pomp and circ*mstance of the clothes he wore.

What didn’t suit Seokjin- was the color. That silvery grey color, the one so close to the Crown’s pure white, was just so odd on his skin. Jungkook couldn’t explain it, but there was just something so very wrong about seeing silver against his skin. It made his skin almost look a little sallow.

Sallow or not, however, the expression on Seokjin’s face was undoubtedly intimidating.

It was currently Jungkook’s turn with the tailor, after having watched Melev, Thyia, and Katran be fitted for their clothes all morning. And while Taehyung and Jimin had been silent during the other Cadets’ turns, choosing to feel Jungkook up and play with his fingers and his hair and attempt to spike his heartrate, once it had gotten to be Jungkook’s turn, they immediately became invested in the entirety of the process, wanting to know everything down to the thread count of the fabric of Jungkook’s uniform.

They had been in the middle of explaining how Jungkook’s clothes shouldn’t be sheer at all, because he’d be cold and they didn’t want him being immodest- when Seokjin had appeared in the doorway.

Seokjin hadn’t knocked. He simply stood in the doorway, and his very presence demanded attention.

Everyone in the room had turned their head, as if there had been a silent announcement of his arrival.

“Boys,” Seokjin repeated, voice smooth with his clear and rounded aristocratic accent, “Come, I need to speak with you.”

Taehyung and Jimin pouted; their hands tightened around Jungkook’s arms, childish in the way they seemed to pretend as if Seokjin hadn’t spoken. They both turned their heads away from Seokjin, Jimin first, then Taehyung, staring at their and Jungkook’s reflecting in the mirror, huffy.

While Jimin and Taehyung might have had the confidence to look away, Jungkook surely didn’t. He kept his head turned, giving Seokjin the entirety of his attention. Jungkook waited, expecting Seokjin to turn stern, to discipline Jimin and Taehyung the way Yoongi had no issue in doing so.

But that never happened. Instead, Seokjin’s somewhat blank expression went warm, almost endeared as he looked at the younger two Sentinels. “Little stars,” Seokjin said, words rounding with an undeniable affection, “Are both of you being kind right now?”

A beat of bratty silence before Jimin shook his head, Taehyung copying a beat after. “Noo,” they both said softly.

Seokjin, the intimidating Sentinel that had seemed so untouchable to Jungkook, seemed so very real, so tangible in this moment.

“I’m simply asking to spend a few moments with my spouses. That’s fair, isn’t it? I require your help with something out of my expertise.”

Taehyung broke first, looking at Seokjin, repeating, “Out of your expertise, sir?”

Seokjin nodded, “Such a thing does come along on occasion.”

Jimin bit his lip, “I wanna make sure my Guide has pretty clothes, sir.”

Seokjin took a step forward, slow, “Must I beg for time with you Jimin? You’ve replaced me so easily? Sir is no longer important?”

Jimin blinked, before vigorously shaking his head, “No, sir, you’re the most important, promise.”

“Most,” Taehyung chirped.

“Then surely you can spare a few moments for boring, old sir, hm?” Seokjin asked, lips curling up teasingly, “My crow’s feet aren’t that bad.”

Jimin’s grip on Jungkook loosened, “Sir doesn’t have crow’s feet!”

“I do,” Seokjin nodded, “I’ve been noticing them recently.”

“Where?” Taehyung asked, squinting slightly as he stared at Seokjin.

“You can only really see them in the sun. Come, I’ll show you.”

Almost like magic, Jimin and Taehyung gave Jungkook a glance, biting their lip, before glancing back at Seokjin, before looking at Jungkook.

“Will you be okay?” Jimin asked, making eye-contact with Jungkook.

“If we leave? Only for a few minutes.” Taehyung finished.

Jungkook paused, eyes flicking for a half-second towrds Seokjin, and there was something so intimidating in Seokjin’s expression that Jungkook didn’t even have time to process before he was nodding instinctively,

“I’ll be fine.” The words fell from his mouth, more from self-preservation than his own opinion, “You can go, sir.”

The young Sentinels paused for a moment, before turning towards the seamstress, a Sentinel.

“If anything happens to him,” Jimin started.

“We will have you committed for treason,” Taehyung finished.

“Understand?” They asked together.

The Seamstress blinked, before pressing her fist to her chest, submissive and respectful as she answered, “Understood, General Park, Kim.”

And then, though still a little wary, Jimin and Taehyung gave Jungkook’s hands a parting squeeze before leaving him alone, following Seokjin out of the room and down the hall.

—

It seems as though all the fairytale movies Jungkook had seen had been lying. The seamstress hadn’t once pricked him, though perhaps that was only reserved for when she was in a rush to make a gown the night of the ball.

Though Jungkook was grateful to avoid pinpricks, he was somewhat disappointed to not experience what had seemed to be a universal torture all members of high class society had to suffer.

Jungkook briefly considered mentioning his surprise to the seamstress that was currently fixated on contouring fabric to Jungkook’s shoulders. He thought better of it. She had a set to her mouth that Jungkook was very familiar with.

One could call it an egotistical expression.

Jungkook, however, was starting to think of it as the frown of a sad*stic bitch.

But he digressed.

“Your shoulders,” the seamstress said, her voice a lilting accent indicating many years spent in the Capital and, likely, impressive pedigree. She was a Sentinel. Surprising. Jungkook would have imagined the work of a seamstress too humiliating to a Sentinel.

Service wasn’t usually something Sentinels were able to swallow.

“Hm?” Jungkook questioned, curious, as he watched her hands smooth over his traps.

“Your shoulders are very broad for a Guide. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s a way I could dress you that would hide them; it’ll be obvious no matter how many vertical stripes I put on you,” she said with that bitchy set to her mouth.

Jungkook paused, staring at himself in the mirror. He was only 5’10. Compared to the rest of Bangtan, he still looked incredibly slender. However, perhaps, if one was comparing him to the Guides…

Jungkook looked past his own reflection in the mirror to look at Melev, sitting on a plush couch across the room. She looked delicate. Despite having gone through three grueling years at the academy, she looked entirely untoned, like she’d never seen a gym.

The seamstress saw Jungkook’s glance at Melev.

“See? She’s so tiny. Not a muscle in her body,” the seamstress said, “You ought to ask her for diet advice.”

Jungkook blinked, once. Twice. And then his lips downturned into a bitchy frown of his own.

“Yeah. Trying to entirely cut protein will do that to you,” Jungkook snarked, “If I want to know what it’s like to be absolutely useless, I’ll make sure to start following her diet.”

“Hey!” Melev protested, her shiny hair slipping across her shoulders instead of being in a military-appropriate bun. “I have twenty grams of protein every day. That’s the Crown recommended amount.”

“Yes,” Jungkook sneered at his own reflection, “That’s been deemed be bare minimum to provide for prisoners, so the Crown can’t be charged with cruel and usual punishment.”

Melev rolled her eyes. “That’s for Sentinels.”

“Right,” Jungkook mocked, “And is suffering from vitamin deficiency just a Guide privilege?”

Melev scoffed, shifting her weight from hip to hip, making her slightly-reddish brunette hair catch the light. Petty. “I guess it’s hard for a Guide not from a house to understand what it means to be a quality Guide.”

“Yes,” Jungkook scoffed, “Quality meaning what? Dying on the battlefield?”

“Being poised. Understanding how to talk to the Crown Princess. Not acting like street-trash.”

“I’m a soldier, and I act like one. My priority isn’t being good at playing tea party.”

Melev rolled her eyes, “Maybe if you actually had some Sentinels around when you were growing up, you wouldn’t have been so… you.”

“Me?”

“Uncultured. Graceless. Bulky.”

“I think you’re grasping at straws to find anything that will support your superiority complex. You’re so desperate to think that you’re better than me.”

“Oh,” Melev scoffed, “I know I’m better than you. We’re all better than you. My mother was a Kim. Thyia’s house advises the Crown. Sylia’s father is a Duke.”

Jungkook paused.

Jimin and Taehyung had left for only a moment. Seokjin had promised they’d be able to return in a few minutes. They couldn’t have gone far. Certainly not far enough to be out of hearing range. Odds are, if Jungkook said something, they’d be able to hear it.

It would be smart for Jungkook to watch his words, especially with the very likely chance that Seokjin was eavesdropping on the conversation. Jungkook didn’t need Seokjin to have even more reasons to dislike him.

Jungkook had most definitely said enough already to ruffle Seokjin’s conservative feathers.

It would be best if Jungkook just backed down from the conversation.

Jungkook wanted Seokjin to like him.

He needed Seokjin to like him.

But at the same time, he was staring at Melev’s smug smirk and he just couldn’t the words from slipping from his lips. After all, he’d already said so much already.

In for a penny, out for a pound.

“I think it’s pathetic you find your only value as a Guide from your relation to Sentinels. Sentinels who couldn’t give a flying f*ck about you, clearly, if they let Bangtan claim you.”

“Young man,” the seamstress said, “Watch your language.”

“I don’t answer to you,” Jungkook scoffed, remembering Yoongi’s words.

the tailor, who, despite her ego, is hardly anyone you need to concern yourself over.

Jungkook wasn’t sure when he started trusting Yoongi so implicitly, but it was clear Jungkook was willing to follow Yoongi’s words off a cliff. This woman could be a beloved cousin to the Crown Princess for all Jungkook knew.

But Yoongi said Jungkook didn’t need to worry about her.

So he wouldn’t.

The seamstress’s eyes widened. Jungkook’s eyes flicked towards the mirror’s reflection, catching Melev’s scandalized face, too. They’re so surprised I’m standing up for myself, Jungkook thought with disgust.

Not used to a Guide that bites back, huh?

“Guides ought to speak to their superiors-”

“With respect,” Jimin said, walking into the room, “But, he can talk to you however he wants.”

Taehyung followed in behind him. “You are far from his superior. If he wanted you to lick his boots, we’d have you on the floor, forehead pressed to black leather before you could blink. Understand?”

The tailor ducked her head immediately. “I apologize General Park, Kim.”

“I don’t understand how the palace seamstress thought she had any right to discipline my Guide-”

“But rest assured, we’ll be having a word with your superior.”

Jungkook blinked, watching Jimin and Taehyung, the bouncy, affectionate Sentinels who had pounced on him this morning seeming like over-enthusiastic puppies. The Sentinels that had pouted and whined at Seokjin.

They definitely didn’t seem like that now.

Their faces were irritated, frowns on their faces as they glared at the seamstress. They looked tall, seeming their full towering stature, with broad shoulders, with their pale platinum blonde hair shining and diamonds in their ears glaring with their own light. Silvery grey fabric swirled around their shoulders, drawing eyes to the near dozen military medals on their chests.

And their tone. They sounded mad.

Jungkook had forgotten.

Jimin and Taehyung might have been the babies of Bangtan, and they might be obsessed with Jungkook but- they were still a part of Bangtan.

They were still one of the most powerful people on Terra.

And they clearly knew it- Of course their Guide wouldn’t have to listen to a seamstress. Even if she was a Sentinel. Even if she was the Crown Princess’s sister. The only people Bangtan answered to was the Crown themselves.

Jungkook’s lips twitched in a barely there smile.

“Hi, sir,” he chirped softly.

“Hi, baby,” Taehyung cooed.

“It sounded like they didn’t bother you too much,” Jimin said, glancing at the seamstress, as well as the other Cadets sitting in the back, “Despite best efforts. Are you alright?”

Jungkook thought about it a moment.

If he said no- he’d get Jimin and Taehyung coddling him for the rest of the day. Something Jungkook would very much enjoy. However, Jungkook was starting to learn there were bigger things to concern himself over.

Jungkook could bet on Taehyung and Jimin’s affection… probably. Wow, I’m certainly getting co*cky.

However, Jungkook wasn’t sure what other Sentinels were overhearing this conversation. Seokjin could still be nearby. And while Yoongi had promised the seamstress, herself, wasn’t someone to worry about, Yoongi had promised no such thing about the other persons the seamstress clothed. Jungkook didn’t need nasty rumors spreading through the palace.

At least- not until Jungkook figured out what rumors he wanted spread through the palace.

He’d allowed himself one infraction. One bite. But, from now on, he’d have to be a little careful.

He didn’t know the rules to this game, and his opponents were Sentinels who’d been playing it for decades.

So, instead of pouting and mumbling a soft no, Jungkook gave Jimin and Taehyung a bright smile, nodding as he said “Yes, I’m fine, sir.”

Jimin stared at Jungkook’s face, while Taehyung seemed to tilt himself towards Jungkook, both of them acting like human lie detector machines.

Jungkook just waited, letting them do what they wanted.

Stressing about what they were trying to look at would just give them the signs they were looking for.

Jungkook chose to be calm. He chose to say that he wasn’t bothered.

And if he chose to feel it, that’s what he felt, and he was simply telling the truth.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

“Okay,” Jimin said, nodding, “As long as you’re alright.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicked over the fabric covering Jungkook’s body. “Do you like the uniform, little one?”

Jungkook looked at it. It looked somewhat similar to what Bangtan’s guard wore. While Bangtan wore a silvery sort of grey, that was pretty close to white- their guard wore a flat, matte light grey. However, while Bangtan’s guard had a very functional uniform, that was form-fitting, with heavy blaster-proof material and many pockets and holsters, Jungkook’s seemed thin.

The fabric was like a soft cotton. A delicate, flowy shirt was tucked into tailored linen-like pants, that definitely weren’t blaster proof. Every detail Jungkook saw on his clothes didn’t seem to serve any function, except for maybe slim down his supposedly monstrously broad shoulders.

“It looks lovely on you,” Jimin said, “Perhaps just a shade lighter though. This seems a little dark.”

There was a beat of silence, before the seamstress hesitantly offered her opinion. “This is the official Bangtan guard color, General Park.”

Taehyung reached out, knuckles gently brushing against the fabric, “Jimin wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

Jimin glanced at Jungkook, “What do you think, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook paused.

What did he think.

Having the lighter fabric would be nice. It would make him stand out in a crowd of Bangtan’s guard and it would set him apart from Melev and the rest.

But was that really what was important right now? Jungkook wasn’t sure he needed a bigger target on his back.

What could be helpful though, would be having a functional uniform. According to Yoongi, Jungkook would start training with the other Guides in the morning; it would be a good idea to not have to worry about his clothing tearing mid-drill.

For some reason, Jungkook very much doubted Guides of other lower ranked palace Sentinels would be wearing such inconvenient outfits.

At the very least Jungkook would want pockets.

There weren’t even loops for his blaster holster to wrap around his hips.

“I’d want the typical Bangtan Guard uniform, actually, sir. The one meant for Sentinels. Instead of this one.”

It was almost funny watching Jimin and Taehyung blink slowly, as if they were genuinely surprised by Jungkook’s response.

“Do you not like this one? What’s wrong with it? It’s the height of Guide fashions. You can’t find those boring old Sentinel uniforms prettier than this-”

“What are your complaints with this? We can have the seamstress make whatever you like.”

The more Jungkook was around Jimin and Taehyung, the more he noticed that Taehyung seemed to have a bit of an interrupting problem. Especially with Jimin. He didn’t seem to interrupt Yoongi. But it was like as soon as Jimin started talking, Taehyung felt the need to talk, too.

Jungkook shook his head, “It’s not about it looks, sir. It’s about what I need it to have.”

“Embroidery? It’ll look much better with jewelry, I promise. Much more formal. But we can always add embroidery later if you want it.”

“Sir,” Jungkook said, “There’s no loops for my blaster holster.”

A beat of silence.

Jimin’s lip curled, as if Jungkook had insulted him. Taehyung’s brows furrowed.

“Jungkook,” Jimin said, voice as stern, as he took a step forward, “You are my Guide. Our Guide. You do not need a blaster.”

“Blasters are for those expected to fight,” Taehyung said, slow, as if Jungkook was a child that Taehyung was attempting to teach a lesson, “You are a Guide. Fighting isn’t your job.”

Jungkook paused.

Fighting isn’t your job.

Jungkook wasn’t quite sure what to say in the face of that.

Cadet Jeon Jungkook, who had aced all of his combat courses with flying colors, wasn’t meant to fight. Cadet Jeon Jungkook who was expected to go into war zones wasn’t allowed a blaster.

For the first time, Jungkook felt some sympathy for Bangtan’s previous Guides. Even if they hadn’t been Bangtan’s perfect bondmates- the odds were truly stacked against them. After three years at the academy with a blaster on his belt, Jungkook felt naked without a ten pound weight at his hip- and the thought of going onto a battlefield with just the hope that others will protect him…

It was terrifying.

And unacceptable.

“And if the enemy decides to make it my job, sir?” Jungkook asked.

“Then,” Jimin took another step forward, reaching out to squeeze Jungkook’s shoulders, “I will rip them apart.”

Jungkook felt Taehyung’s hands slide up his back to around his neck, his fingers skimming the sides of Jungkook’s neck with the gentlest of pressure, “Don’t be scared. We’ll take care of you.”

“I want to be able to defend myself, sir.”

“Do you not trust us?”

“Trust us to take care of you?”

Jungkook though about this for a moment.

Did he not trust Jimin and Taehyung to take care of him?

He looked at Jimin. General Park Jimin with his serpentine eyes and platinum blonde hair. Jimin, someone that Jungkook had dreamt about. Jimin who had two decades on Jungkook; who could hear a pin drop from half a city away.

And Jungkook couldn’t make himself believe Jimin was incapable of accomplishing any goal he set his mind to.

And apparently, Jungkook’s safety was a goal Jimin had set his mind to.

Jimin and Taehyung wished to be the only thing standing between Jungkook and death on a battlefield.

The thought irritated Jungkook.

It made him twitch.

His fingertips jerked, feeling the urge to wrap into fists.

“I want a blaster, sir.”

“You don’t need one.”

“Guides don’t have blasters.”

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Jungkook shook his head, taking a step back from Jimin and Taehyung, surveying the rest of the room, taking in Melev’s smug little smirk-

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

The heavy fabric hanging on Jungkook’s shoulders suddenly felt itchy. The silvery color seemed pallid at best; Jungkook had a thought that might look better a few shades darker.

“I would like to leave,” Jungkook said, addressing the silent seamstress who had moved onto another task, “Can you get this fabric off of me?”

The seamstress turned her head towards Jungkook, but her gaze flicked between Taehyung and Jimin.

“I’m not finished taking his measurements, General Kim, General Park.”

“I want to go to my room. I will walk there in this, if I have to,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the fabric covering his body with a flap of his arm.

The seamstress made a hissing sound, seeming scandalized at the thought.

“Can’t you wait? You want to have a uniform that compliments your figure, do you not?” Jimin questioned.

There was an expression on Jimin’s face, a twist to his words.

Something about it.

Just rubbed Jungkook.

The wrong way.

Jungkook turned around to face Taehyung. Out of the pair, Taehyung always seemed to copy Jimin; Jimin would take the first step and Taehyung would follow a beat later. Jimin seemed like the ringleader of the two person ring, so Jungkook had been automatically deferring to Jimin.

But Taehyung technically had just as much sway as Jimin.

And Jungkook had no issue pitting the two Sentinels against each other if it got him what he wanted.

So Jungkook turned to Taehyung; Taehyung’s gaze always seemed wide and innocent, even now they were brimming with surprise and confusion as Jungkook looked his way.

“Sir,” Jungkook said, “I want to go back to the room.”

“Back to the room?” Taehyung repeated, as if seeing how the words tasted on his tongue.

“I don’t want to be here, sir,” Jungkook reasserted.

Taehyung paused. His eyes flicked towards Jimin, and then he nodded.

“Okay.” Taehyung extended a hand out to Jungkook. “You do not have to be here.”

“But- Tae- All Guides need a uniform,” Jimin whined, waving an arm towards the seamstress.

“Yes,” Taehyung nodded, “But he doesn’t need a uniform from her. Or need to have it made right this second.”

Jimin blinked.

“That’s true.”

“So, if our Guide wants to leave. He can leave,” Taehyung nodded, “Come Jungkook. You can take all that fabric off in your rooms.”

And then Taehyung leaned down, swept Jungkook up in his arms, and carried Jungkook back to his rooms, with pinned fabric and bare feet.

—

Jungkook walked into his rooms. Taehyung and Jimin seemed to have understood that they had upset Jungkook to the point of requiring forgiveness, because they quickly skirted off like chided children before the door had even completely shut.

Probably for the best, all things considered.

Jungkook was rather not in the mood for their overbearing antics at the moment.

He did learn something though. Jimin wasn’t the leader of the Jimin/Taehyung duo. Jungkook wasn’t sure if Taehyung always held the trump card, or if that was a one-time situation. Regardless, Jimin was entitled and much more likely to uphold expectations.

Taehyung, though, when pushed to the point of self-awareness, will concede to breaking norms.

It was good for Jungkook to know just who he should direct his further demands for a blaster to.

Then again, if Jungkook really wanted a blaster…

The image of Yoongi’s face, with steely eyes and a sharp set to his lips flashed at the front of Jungkook’s mind.

There was certainly one Sentinel who could get Jungkook a blaster; such a shame, Yoongi was also the scariest of the trio.

Jungkook sighed.

It would be incredibly annoying to wade through training without a blaster.

Every student at the Academy had a blaster; Jungkook couldn’t imagine that graduated Guides were training at the palace without them. Jimin must have been, at least partially, misinformed.

Jungkook walked into his rooms, his weary footsteps echoing against the lavishly tiled floors. His eyes turned towards the bed; despite it not yet even being lunch time- Jungkook wished for a nap.

His eyes glanced towards the right, expecting to see his rumbled sheets from this morning. Instead, he looked to his right and his sheets neatly folded, with his tablet resting on top.

His tablet.

Jungkook had practically forgotten about it.

He’d been too overstimulated the past 24 hours to even realize he’d been without it.

Baekhyun.

Jungkook scrambled towards his tablet, immediately opening it, muscle memory guiding the taps of his fingers, until.

Beep.

His tablet beeped Baekhyun’s. Jungkook stared at Baekhyun’s name on his screen; his body was tense; he was holding his breath, suddenly all he needed, wanted, was to hear Baekhyun’s voice.

Beep.

Baekhyun’s face filled the screen.

Dark hair, a chestnut color dulled to blackish by the glare on the screen, warm brown eyes, and a comforting voice that shouted, “Jungkook Jeon! What the absolute f*ck!”

“Baekhyun,” Jungkook said, relief filling his body at the sight of his only friend.

The Guide collapsed onto the bed, breathing in the fresh scent of the sheets, unbothered by the uncomfortable feeling of pins in his half-made uniform digging into his skin.

“Baekhyun?” his friends voice repeated in a shrill tone, “That’s all you have to say to me, Jeon? Just ‘Baekhuyn’? What the absolute f*ck, Jeon. They took you!”

Jungkook exhaled, face pressed against the bed sheets, eyes closed, “Yeah, they did.”

There was a pause, and then the sound of Baekhyun exhaling, which had Jungkook peeking up at the screen. “Are you okay? They haven’t hurt you have they?”

Jungkook shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” Baekhyun nodded, looking relieved.

Jungkook copied his friend with a nod of his own.

“You didn’t even say goodbye, you idiot.”

“I passed out, I think, and I woke up on the ship. I’m sorry.”

“You could have called on the ship.”

“… I forgot. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun sighed, rolling his eyes, “It’s fine. You’re a loser, but it’s fine. Now, fill me in. What’s happened?”

—

“You know…” Baekhyun trailed, eyes flicking up as he thought about something, “I know a seamstress with a shop in the Capital. She’s the eccentric type. I’m sure she’d be more than willing to make you a uniform of your liking.”

Jungkook perked up, eyes brightening, “You think so?”

“I don’t see why not. Get a pen, I’ll find her pin number and address.”

—

“Of course, out of everyone, they had to chose Melev, Thyia, and Katran,” Baekhyun sighed, “They’re awful. I can’t think of anyone I’d like less.”

Jungkook huffed, flapping the comforter petulantly, “Katran, I understand. She was top of the Guide class for her year, and she was a fourth year. Melev and Thyia though? I don’t understand how they would have impressed anyone, let alone Bangtan.”

Baekhyun sighed, rolling his eyes, “It always comes back to Sentinels and their comfort, Jungkook. They didn’t stay in royal academies when they were young. They stayed with their parents. Regardless of their natural skill, they’ve been practicing taking Sentinels out of zones since they were young. They might not be great, but they’re confident and calm; which, when facing the most intimidating Sentinels on Terra- is fairly commendable.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jungkook scoffed, “Other Guides could legitimately run circles around Melev.”

Baekhyun sighed, giving Jungkook a look, “One man grew up speaking a language; they’re a fairly average speaker that graduated grade 12. One man learned the language in college and got a PhD in it. Who do you think is more proficient at the language?”

“Neither.”

Baekhyun laughed, “Yes, well. Bangtan does need to pick someone.”

“Well I hate her. I hate it here.”

Baekhyun gave Jungkook a sympathetic look, “It’ll get better after you pick up some of the etiquette. Choose thin fabrics, if you can, they’ll make whatever color you’re wearing look lighter than it actually is. Always walk behind your Sentinels. If you need to speak without being addressed, make a little clicking sound with your mouth, someone in the room will probably address you, and that way you don’t seem ‘aggressive’. They’ll look for any excuse to label you unruly. Remember, never completely finish your meals; you’re not starving; you’re coddled enough by your Sentinels that you don’t need to finish your food. Ask if you can get the Vierna graduate piercing, too. That should help.”

Jungkook blinked. “Click your tongue?”

Baekhyun made a soft sound, like his tongue was flicking against the back of his teeth; it was the kind of sound you made when you were going to say something but changed your mind.

“Um. Why?”

Baekhyun gave Jungkook a look, “Do not speak without being spoken to in a formal setting, Jungkook. It will get you in deeper trouble than you can deal with right now.”

Baekhyun sounded so sure. So confident. And Jungkook didn’t quite understand where he had gotten such confidence from; Baekhyun was the son of two Nulls, same as Jungkook. He, too, had been forced through royal academies when he was young.

He wasn’t from a Sentinel family.

“Was there some sort of etiquette class I missed?” Jungkook asked, only half-joking.

Baekhyun paused; there was an odd look on his face, “Nope, you just pick up a few things after watching so many Crown documentaries.”

Oh.

Jungkook nodded.

That made sense.

As obsessed as Jungkook was with Bangtan, one could make the argument that Baekhyun was equally obsessed with current events and politics. While Jungkook would be busy watching Seokjin wave on red carpets, Baekhyun would be busy watching underground documentaries about political cover-ups.

Maybe it would have helped Jungkook to have taken breaks from simping over Bangtan to hang out with his best friend.

Oh well. Nothing he could do about it now.

“But. Seriously Jungkook, are you okay? Do really want to stay? You don’t have to be there if you don’t want to be. You know how dangerous it is,” Baekhyun’s voice softened.

Jungkook scoffed, smoothing a hand over his sheets, “Yeah? I can just up and leave the highest ranked officers in COAL if I wanted to?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook looked up at Baekhyun’s face on the screen; even the strong reflections on the screen couldn’t distract from the steeliness in Baekhyun’s eyes. Jungkook went quiet, staring at his friend.

The set to Baekhyun’s mouth; the look in his eyes- it reminded Jungkook of something you’d see on a Sentinel.

Baekhyun cares about me so much, Jungkook thought, staring back at his friend. His friend was willing to suggest the impossible if it was something Jungkook wanted. Jungkook didn’t even know if he would be able to suggest the same to Baekhyun if the roles were reversed.

If Baekhyun was in Jungkook’s position, Jungkook didn’t know what help he would have been able to offer Baekhyun.

And yet, here was Baekhyun, acting as if he’d do anything to gain agency in the situation, if it meant Jungkook was safe and happy.

“You can leave, Jungkook. If you don’t like it there, if you don’t feel safe, if you’ve changed your mind- you can tell me. We’ll work through it together.” Baekhyun sounded so certain.

Jungkook pressed his lips together, staring at his friend; his good good friend, who even now, even a whole continent away, cared for him so much.

The world always seemed to treat Guides as replaceable. It was a constant, unsaid message that drifted into every corner of society. Even most Nulls had internalized that message. But- Baekhyun had never made Jungkook feel that way. Baekhyun and Jungkook had always taken classes together, had always studied together, had always solved problems together.

Even when they had gotten in trouble, they’d clean each other’s backs after their whippings.

They were a team.

It was a shame that it had taken Jungkook this long to actually realize it.

Jungkook gave his friend a small smile, “Really, Baek, I’m fine. I promise. You’d be the first to know if I wasn’t.”

“Would I?” Baekhyun squinted, “I feel like the entire Academy saw you shoot at a chandelier with Bangtan at your heels before I even figured out what was going on.”

Jungkook laughed, sheepish, “Listennnn.”

“Yeah? I’m listening, Jungkookie.”

“I was in a rush.”

“Ohhh, he was in a rush, ladies and gentleman.”

“Hey!”

Chapter 29: Chapter 27

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

Jungkook spent the rest of the day talking to Baekhyun, catching up on Academy gossip, and napping.

He hadn’t heard word from anyone; he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. Yoongi hadn’t mentioned anything other than him getting his uniform with Jimin and Taehyung, and Jimin and Taehyung had run off after dropping Jungkook back to his rooms.

Lunch was quietly delivered to his door by a maid; simple food that Jungkook would assume likely fell under Yoongi’s definition of ‘peasant food’.

Jungkook assumed that he was likely done with his day’s itinerary.

As the sun began to set, there was another knock on the door. Jungkook tiredly rolled out of bed, yawning; he cleaned up his desk a little, moving some books and his tablet out of the way, so he’d have room to set the dinner tray the maid had left.

He slowly walked to the door, hands stretched over his head, cracking his back.

Jungkook opened the door.

He looked at the floor. Except, instead of a dinner tray, he was staring at feet. In casual house slippers.

Familiar house slippers.

House slippers Jungkook had seen yesterday… when Yoongi was wearing them.

Jungkook slowly looked up, eyes following the lines of soft house pants, moving up to a loose shirt tucked into the waistband, spotted skin and collarbones, and then Yoongi Min.

Jungkook sucked a surprised breath through his teeth.

“Hi, little one,” Yoongi greeted with his sharp smile, “I heard you had an eventful day today.”

“Uhhhh,” Jungkook trailed off, not quite processing Yoongi’s words, still too busy trying to come to terms with the fact that he was suddenly in front of Yoongi.

“You had my boys in tears, you know,” Yoongi grinned, teeth flashing as he stepped forward, “They were in such a fit, poor things. But I had told them not to smother.”

Jungkook took an automatic step back, the words slipping from his tongue without thought, “You smother… sir.”

Yoongi co*cked his head.

He reminded Jungkook of a snake. Or maybe a lizard. Or maybe a bird. Jungkook didn’t know.

Yoongi blinked. But it wasn’t simultaneous.

One eye closed a half second before the other.

Had he always blinked like that? Jungkook thought to himself, anxiety starting to drip into his stomach.

Jungkook didn’t know how to handle the slim bone structure of Yoongi’s hands and face with the broad shoulders and sharp teeth. The odd blinking that made it so that Yoongi never dropped eye contact with him. The stiff way that Yoongi seemed to hold himself. Always with perfect posture- not the way Seokjin did, with grace and tact. It was like Yoongi was just unmovable.

“If I wanted to smother you, Jeon,” Yoongi took another step forward. He reached out- his hand was warm, almost burning, as it wrapped around Jungkook’s throat. “I’d just lower the O2 levels in here while you were sleeping. I wouldn’t do it personally; that’s waste of my time.”

Jungkook swallowed, looking up at Yoongi’s black eyes, seeing his pallid, wide-eyed reflection in them.

“My attention is a gift. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Yoongi said, removing his burning hand from Jungkook’s throat, “Now, come, we’ll have our evening meal together.”

—

Jungkook swallowed, anxiety swirling in his stomach as he stared at the empty seat in front of him. Yoongi had walked him to a private balcony off of the main dining hall, gestured for Jungkook to sit, and then had left. The Sentinel had left Jungkook alone to twitch his foot, anxiously waiting for him to return.

Though Yoongi had seemed unphased by Jungkook’s actions of the day, Jungkook still wasn’t sure he’d be completely off the hook. He had snapped at Jimin and Taehyung, after all, and regardless of how strict Yoongi was, it was very obvious that he adored his youngest two husbands.

The table was set, all with food that was familiar to Jungkook. The Guide wondered if Yoongi had just told the kitchen to make Jungkook meals accessible to a poor man’s pallet. Jungkook smoothed his hands over his thighs.

The balcony was enclosed, but surrounded by panes of glass. It gave Jungkook an unobstructed view of the palace grounds. The grounds behind the palace, anyway. They seemed to continue on forever; it looked like it was straight out of a fairytale. Or a children’s book.

The Crown Princess had received the gardens as a birthday present when she had turned of age; her 20th birthday party had been broadcasted across the planet, apparently; Jungkook wasn’t alive when that had happened. It was almost 90 years ago, after all.

The gardens were clearly separated into four sections. One with bright, emerald green trees; even though it was evening and the sun was beginning to set, the area seemed to almost glow. One was orange and yellow, leaves turning the colors of amber; trees sparsely decorated. One was white; covered in what Jungkook assumed must have been snow, it was difficult to see in that direction, as if heavy winds were blowing. And the last section was covered in flowers, bright pink and yellow that seemed to glitter, as if it had just rained.

Seasons, Jungkook recognized, they signified seasons. Jungkook had learned about them in world history back in high school. He couldn’t imagine how they had managed to make seasons.

Movement in the corner of his eye had Jungkook turning his head. Yoongi walked towards him holding a sealed pitcher of some sort of liquid.

“Are you thirsty, Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, as he set the pitcher on the table.

Jungkook blinked, before slowly nodding.

“Good,” Yoongi nodded, setting a simple glass on the table, “I’ve made you water.”

“… Is water something you can make, sir?” Jungkook asked slowly.

“Yes,” Yoongi nodded, “Yes it is.”

“I didn’t realize,” Jungkook said.

“Different salt content, different vitamin concentrations, different ideal temperatures, lots of things. Namjoon needs so much vitamin C in his… the dosage he consumes might kill you, though.”

“Then… what’s in mine, sir?”

Yoongi hummed, “Dextrose, folate, thiamine, riboflavin, niacin, pantothenic acid, biotin, vitamin B6, and vitamin B12, vitamin C, Citric Acid, Salt, Sodium Citrate, Monopotassium Phosphate, and Fluoride.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, “No chloride? To, you know, purify it, sir?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, “This water has been boiled in an autoclave, used for reverse osmosis, and then stored in an air-tight container that I, myself, designed. There is nothing in it but what I want to be in it, and there is no need for unnecessary additives.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, “Of course, my apologies, sir.”

“Not needed. Try it. Let me know if the taste is acceptable,” Yoongi said, as he waved his wrist over the pitcher, which clicked once the chip reader detected the chip under the Sentinel’s skin.

The pitcher full of water had been… locked? Jungkook thought with mild incredulousness.

“Can I ask… why you’ve put so much effort into a beverage, sir? I appreciate it, but I’m confused.”

Yoongi sighed, “You are young. You don’t understand the importance of being hydrated; how brutal the drought season can be.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure how to react to that.

So he just nodded.

Yoongi gently handed him a half-full glass of water.

It was perfectly clear, despite everything that was apparently in it.

Yoongi stared at him; the sentinel’s gaze bored into Jungkook as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a cautious sip.

Oh.

Jungkook swallowed.

It tasted like a sports drink.

He huffed a small laugh. Of course, it tasted like a sports drink. Stars, that’s funny.

“So?” Yoongi questioned, eyes narrowed, arms crossed.

Jungkook smiled, lifting up the glass to take a few proper gulps, “It’s great, sir. Thank you.”

Yoongi just gave him a militant sort of nod, “Good.”

It was… kinda cute.

The Sentinel sat down in front of Jungkook, finally taking his seat. Jungkook held his glass with both hands, continuing to take sips from it. There was a poised sort of silence between them.

Jungkook thumbed at the condensation on his glass as he kept his eyes pointed down at the table. Yoongi’s hands were on the table. His forearms were resting on the table, improper, but Jungkook wasn’t very surprised.

Yoongi seemed to be a stickler for his own rules, but not anyone else’s. Except Seokjin’s, apparently.

“Has someone explained the gardens to you?” Yoongi asked, voice interrupting Jungkook’s words.

Jungkook shook his head no.

“When Crown Princess Solia became of age, the Queen wanted to give her a gift. Solia had a great fascination with the idea of seasons in her youth. And, though Solia is of a respectable age, she was born after the oceans rose, so she had never experienced seasons first-hand.”

Jungkook nodded his head, silent.

Yoongi turned his head, looking out at the gardens. The sight of his profile against the setting sun was… Jungkook didn’t know how to describe it. His features were outlined in orange sunlight, and his skin looked so warm, but his features stayed cold. Like a statue.

“They used to be proper greenhouses. With steal beams and glass plates and all; they had humidity and temperature control machinery built into the walls. It was actually my first act of service to the Crown… renovating them. It was quite a task making panels that perfectly refracted internal light but were still capable of holding circuitry- moreover, some of them needed to insulate heat and others needed to rapidly transfer it.”

“How long did it take you?” Jungkook asked.

Yoongi hummed, “Five years? Perhaps a decade. Seokjin and the Crown Princess wished to… ease me back into proper society after I had been off-planet without a proper Sentinel role-model for so long.”

Jungkook nodded, realizing that Yoongi likely wasn’t going to expand much on the subject. The Guide looked down at his glass and then the rest of the table, seeing Yoongi’s hands pressed against the surface, palms facing up.

Yoongi’s hands were clean. Jungkook didn’t know why, but he had expected them to be stained with grease or something, some sign that Yoongi was an engineer, an engineer capable of making a weapon that revolutionized intergalactic war. His hands were bony, not quite delicate; they were too large to be considered dainty, but the bone structure was certainly slim.

Nothing like the burly, muscled hands you’d expect on a Sentinel.

Yoongi’s coloring only furthered the impression his bone structure gave. His skin was covered in moles; dark, perfectly circular moles that lined in his skin. They formed a grid pattern of sorts, symmetric and uniformly separated. Jungkook stared at them; they looked flat; Jungkook felt the urge to reach out and see if that they actually were.

They started at Yoongi’s fingertips and traveled up his forearms, disappearing under his shirt sleeves. His palms were unmarked, though.

It was odd.

It was definitely a mod, but Jungkook had never heard of that sort of thing before. Most mods were obvious and made sense immediately; strong skin, denser muscle, better vision.

What good were dots?

“I’m part Alaudid.”

Jungkook jerked, eyes flicking up to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

“The spots. It’s from the 0.06% Alaudid,” the Sentinel said, pushing his sleeves up and turning his hands over, so Jungkook had an unencumbered view of the dots.

“They’re from the planet… Dae?” Jungkook asked, vaguely remembered learning about a barren, desert planet in the fourth sector.

Yoongi nodded, “These are pigment cells, packed full of a variation of melanin. They diffuse the melanin to fully cover my skin under strong sunlight; the pigment degrades after six or so hours, so the color change is pretty fleeting. The Alaudid have a lot of light-dependent metabolic reactions, but they also experience really strong UV rays during certain parts of the day because of their atmosphere, so this was how they adapted to that. Temporary tans,” Yoongi explained, tilting his head.

“Oh,” Jungkook said, nodding.

“Mmhm,” Yoongi nodded, “Most of my mods were inherited; I’m not a chimera, unfortunately. I acquired a few after Seokjin, Namjoon, and I married Hoseok, but nothing too notable.”

Inherited. Jungkook nodded. Inherited mods were genetic changes you got from your parents, they were tricky and hard to predict, but they were the only mods that would be expressed in every cell of someone’s body. They were low maintenance.

Acquired genes were very controllable. They could be carefully selected, perfectly calculated to suit a Sentinel’s genome, tested thoroughly in cell cultures beforehand, before being put in virus vectors and given as treatment when Sentinels were older. Of course, this does limit the extent to which a typical Terran Sentinel’s body can change. There is, after all, already a formed physiological system and structure there.

Chimeras, though. Chimeras were something else. It was somewhat surprising to Jungkook that Yoongi wasn’t one. Though it was something reserved for only the wealthiest of families, any Sentinel family, even less influential families like the Mins, would have the resources to source their progeny through Chimera labs.

As if Yoongi could read his mind, the Sentinel spoke up. “I’m not associated with the Mins.”

“Not associated with the Mins, sir?” Jungkook questioned.

Yoongi paused, and then he sighed, a slow tired exhale. “My father, a Min, died when I was an infant. My mother…”

Yoongi swallowed heavily, palms pressed against the table.

“My biological mother was his Guide. Who tried her best, but she struggled until she died. Seokjin found me nearly a decade later.”

A Guide.

Though it was known to happen on occasion, it was beyond taboo for a Sentinel to have children with their Guide. Guides were supposed to be as good as infertile. No Sentinel family would accept an heir from a Guide- especially after the Sentinel parent had died.

For all the concern Yoongi had shown to keeping secrets and being discrete, the Sentinel had certainly said such a sensitive statement with no sense of secrecy.

“Is that… common knowledge sir?” Jungkook asked.

“My parentage? Obviously. Somewhat hard to hide who your parents are when you’re a Sentinel. Especially, when you’re a Sentinel married to the Kim Seokjin.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, gears turning in his head.

“Just ask me the question. I told you, there’s no need to overthink things,” Yoongi said, reaching over to re-fill Jungkook’s glass.

“I’m just… I’m just trying to figure out what is and isn’t a secret. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, sir.”

“You’ve been in the palace two days, who could possibly have divulged a secret worth worrying over in that time?”

Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it, before bitting his lip.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi said, eyes narrowing, “Who has burdened you with something?”

“I don’t want to-”

“Answer me, Cadet Jeon.”

“You,” Jungkook blurted.

Yoongi tilted his head, puzzled. He blinked once, mulling over Jungkook’s answer, before responding, “I have told you nothing that isn’t either common knowledge or something that you are expected to know. You have proven to be talented not trustworthy.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, “Right. Sorry, sir.”

“So what is it that’s had you so worked up? What could I possibly have said?” Yoongi asked, a small smile beginning to curl on his lips, “Was it all that punishing business? Because, while true, I won’t lay a finger on you until you’ve settled in.”

Jungkook swallowed, trying to stay focused on the conversation and not on Yoongi laying fingers on him.

“It’s not that, sir…”

“Then what?”

You invented the Daechwita blasters.

You built weapons for intergalatic terrorists.

You went to the most secure prison in the galaxy for crimes against Terra.

Jungkook swallowed, “Didn’t you say only the bedrooms were fully sound-proof?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, something hawkish in his gaze. His posture shifted; gone was the lazy, bony posture of a relaxed Min Yoongi, in it’s place was a stiff, broad shouldered General concerned about a potential security risk.

“You,” Yoongi said, turning his head to look at the servant standing in the corner, a servant that Jungkook hadn’t even noticed until this moment.

“Yes, General Min?” the servant asked, eyes pointed to the floor.

“Get me a pen and paper. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” the servant ducked their head before speed-walking off the balcony, back into the main dining room.

“You have me very curious now, Jeon,” Yoongi admitted, leaning forward. A sharper smile replaced the one that had been there previously, “I know I said I wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but, I think if this ends up being something stupid, I’ll introduce you to what it’s like to bend over my knee.”

Yoongi leaned further across the table, so that his and Jungkook’s noses were only inches away from each other. Yoongi’s intelligent eyes seemed to pick him apart like a vulture. Jungkook’s face felt hot; he was sure his face was red.

“Okay,” Jungkook squeaked, desperately trying not to think about Yoongi spanking him.

“So, supposedly, I told you this?” Yoongi questioned.

“Um… I saw it.”

“You saw it,” Yoongi repeated, that sharp smile of his making his words sound sardonic.

“I don’t think Guides see mindscapes as vividly as I do… but, I think it has something to do with the way I guide… I can see things.”

Yoongi’s smile faded. “Like what?”

Jungkook licked his lips. “I saw… one of Taehyung’s memories. From when he was on Orella.”

“Everyone knows he was imprisoned on Orella.”

“He kept track of days with a chalk tally. When his supervisor defaced them, he lost track of time,” Jungkook said.

“Easy guess.”

Jungkook took a sip of his sports drink water. He mentally flipped through everything he had seen in the three Sentinels’ mindscapes, trying to judge what would be safe to say in earshot of everyone else in the palace while still proving his point.

“Jimin lost his virginity to Namjoon,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

“That’s a one out of five guess,” Yoongi replied, likely not confirming it for the sake of Jimin’s privacy.

“What I know about you… isn’t a guess,” Jungkook said.

Yoongi shook his head, falling back into his chair with an irritated huff. Two fingers rubbed at his temple.

A moment later, he turned his head, looking at the doorway, as the servant returned, pen and paper in hand.

“Put it on the table and then leave. You are dismissed for the night, understand?” Yoongi snapped, actually snapping his fingers as soon as the servant had set the materials onto the table. “Out.”

“Yes, General Min.” The servant ducked his head, before scampering off.

Jungkook wanted to ask if Yoongi always spoke to servants that way, but he decided that likely wasn’t what Yoongi wanted to hear at the moment.

Yoongi waited a moment, likely listening to the servant’s footsteps disappear, before spinning the small notebook around to face Jungkook, placing the expensive-looking ink pen on top.

“Write.”

Jungkook nodded, tentatively reaching out and picking up the pen.

What should he write?

Jungkook wasn’t sure just what he should say.

Part of him realized that he had dug himself into a very very deep hole. He could see short-fused Yoongi killing him for this.

All Jungkook had wanted was to understand, to help protect Yoongi’s secrets. He should have known, though, that Yoongi didn’t need help protecting his secrets.

Yoongi clearly managed that just fine on his own.

In the end, Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to outright write it.

I know who invented the Daechwita blasters for the Rueleans.

Jungkook spun the notebook around to face Yoongi, gingerly setting the pen down on the table.

Yoongi just stared.

He didn’t blink.

His face didn’t so much as twitch.

The Sentinel was stone for several moments.

And then he chuckled, shaking his head. As if nothing was wrong. As if Jungkook had made a joke.

“Yes. I met the Null that was making them.” As Yoongi spoke, he picked up the pen and began to write on the notepad. “Why would that be a secret? I’m the one who picked him out of a line-up.”

Yoongi turned the notepad around, showing Jungkook what he had wrote.

I will slit your throat if you ever mention this again. Ever.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook swallowed, heart thumping wildly, “Anything can be considered matters of the state.”

“The entire state is in this palace. There’s nothing to hide here. Will you remember this going forward?” Yoongi questioned, voice cheerful and eyes dark, “I want to hear you say it, Jungkookie.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yoongi stared him. His grey eyes bore into him. The Sentinel seemed to stare at Jungkook for an eternity, not moving, even as Jungkook began to shift, uncomfortable and self-conscious.

Jungkook warily sipped at his water, finishing the whole glass as Yoongi just continued to stare. The sharp-mouthed Sentinel was even scarier when he was quiet.

It was only once Jungkook’s glass was empty did the Sentinel spark into motion, inhaling and reaching out for the pitcher to refill Jungkook’s glass.

“Good,” Yoongi said, setting the pitcher down, “We can forget this conversation occurred.”

The Sentinel took the whole notebook, and tucked it into the waistband of his pants.

“Okay, sir.”

“And Jungkook?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t concern yourself with anymore secrets.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

Yoongi stood in front of a heavy wooden door. It was a perfect white, glossed to perfection; Yoongi stared at the floor to avoid looking at his own reflection.

There was no need to knock. Seokjin had heard him coming; he could hear Yoongi’s breathing and his heartbeat as he stood in the hall.

The door opened, and Yoongi exhaled.

Seokjin stood in the doorway, draped in the thinnest of silks, diamonds dripping down his chest, the dullest, faintest, weakest suggestion of a glimmer to his skin.

He looked like a reminder of a sun.

The far-away, almost forgotten memory of a bright star.

The center of Yoongi’s galaxy.

“My poor diamond,” Seokjin murmured, “Come.”

“Sir.”

“I know. Sir always knows. I’ll make it go away.”

The words Yoongi wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but even in the privacy of Seokjin’s rooms, there was no certainty that someone couldn’t overhear them. Even past the triple insulated walls that Yoongi had designed himself, there was no guarantee that someone wouldn’t hear the secrets that so desperately wanted to slip from Yoongi’s lips.

But Yoongi was in over his head. An unorthodox Guide sounded like a boon in theory. In practice, he was a hot-headed, naive, and unpredictable. If Jungkook had found Yoongi’s deepest, darkest secret the first time he had guided him… there was no telling what Jungkook could do.

How was he simply supposed to trust that was the extent of Jungkook’s abilities?

How was he supposed to trust Jungkook at all?

Yoongi didn’t do well with unpredictable. Machines were simple. Everything else had always been Seokjin’s job.

You just build your toys, little sun swan. I will handle everything else.

Yoongi wanted nothing more than to melt into Seokjin’s arms and tell him everything.

But he couldn’t.

Despite the risk, despite the danger, when Yoongi looked at Jungkook, he felt at ease. It was the same sort of contentment that Yoongi felt, sitting at the shore of a crystal-clear, fresh-water lake. The bone-deep feeling that everything would be okay.

Yoongi couldn’t lose that.

He couldn’t lose Jeon Jungkook.

And if Yoongi told Seokjin. If he told Seokjin everything… Seokjin would kill Jungkook by the end of the night. No question.

“Sir,” Yoongi whispered again.

This would be the first time he’s hidden something from Seokjin. The first time he’s lied to the man, the Sentinel, the sun, he’d pledged allegiance to.

Seokjin wasted no time in pulling Yoongi into his arms.

Seokjin, tall, broad, muscled Seokjin, had the sweetest embrace. There was no safer place than tucked under Seokjin’s chin.

“What a peculiar Guide you have, hm?”

Seokjin had heard Yoongi’s and Jungkook’s conversation. Of course, he had. Yoongi hadn’t been joking when he told Jungkook the entire palace could hear them. While most Sentinels master the ability to tune out unwanted stimuli by the time they reach maturity, they purposefully kept an ear out for any conversations involving Bangtan.

Eavesdropping on the most influential Sentinels in the palace was an undoubtedly smart move.

Seokjin was no different; he always kept an ear on his husbands. Unless he was in the privacy of his rooms, there was no conversation Yoongi could have in the palace that Seokjin wasn’t aware of.

“He saw me picking him out of the line-up, sir, when he was Guiding me.”

A pause.

“Such a violating impingement of your privacy… What is to be done about that, my sun swan?”

“He didn’t mean to.”

“Intention is not his crime. His crime is that he has my valuables in his position.”

“He just knows my… knowledge and what came from it. He doesn’t know anything valuable, sir.”

Seokjin was silent.

The older Sentinel’s hands smoothed over Yoongi’s shoulders; the energy in Yoongi’s body seemed to drain out of him; the Sentinel leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Seokjin’s silk-covered sternum. Seokjin’s body seemed to envelope his; the world went quiet, dampened, as if every soundwave had to travel through Seokjin’s body to reach Yoongi’s ear drums.

In the deep recesses of his mind, Yoongi wondered if Seokjin’s body just had different acoustics, if his body was so noticeably denser than average. He’s never thought about it, but Seokjin had a way of making the world go quiet that seemed almost impossible.

Yoongi was tired.

He leaned the entirety of his weight into Seokjin, like a weary child.

Seokjin always made him feel so small.

And in these small, vulnerable moments, moments that reminded him so much of that time spent with Seokjin at the lake, and before that, of his time spent imprisoned, and before that, of Namjoon finding him- and the screams.

Her voice- it had been so harsh.

She had bit him.

He’d been under her care for so long and had never so much as been scratched, but that day-she had made him scream.

Her teeth, that he’d only ever seen flashed in an attempt to mimic Yoongi’s Terran smile, had sunk into this skin, making marks in his bone.

Yoongi’s eyes watered, salt water pooling against his waterline, blurring his vision ever so slightly, the additional 1.33 index of water skewing the path of light to his retina; it didn’t matter much, Yoongi was only staring at the skin of Seokjin’s shoulder, covered by silk.

Tell them how a spider stole you from your nest

that she fed you poison.

Lie, nestling, you understand?

Her final words to him were for his benefit, for his safety; even then, she never held any concern for herself; she let her scales go soft for Yoongi, soft the way mothers’ scales got for their nestlings, to keep them safe from accidental nicks.

She put her safety at risk, so she could hold Yoongi safe during his nightmares.

“I miss my mother,” Yoongi whispered, soft and quiet in the warm, safe space between him and Seokjin.

“She was no one to miss.”

“She loved me,” Yoongi said, thinking of those soft scales against his cheek.

“Your mother was a Terran Guide, and she didn’t protect you,” Seokjin said, lowering himself to kneel on the floor.

Seokjin looked up at Yoongi. Duke Seokjin Kim, only son of the sixth aunt of the current Crown Princess, twelfth in line for the throne, first grandchild of the energy Kim fortune, was on the ground, kneeling at Yoongi’s feet, and yet Yoongi was the one who felt unbearably vulnerable. Seokjin’s bright grey eyes looked up at him, pinning him in place.

The Sentinel’s hands were pressed against the front of Yoongi’s thighs; Seokjin ran 20 degrees colder than Yoongi did, but Seokjin’s hands still felt like they were burning through the fabric of Yoongi’s pants.

One of Seokjin’s palms pressed perfectly against the scar on Yoongi’s thigh, the numb scar tissue was barely able to register the feeling.

“She didn’t protect you how I do,” Seokjin whispered, tensing his grip around Yoongi’s thigh, his scar, her bite.

Yoongi didn’t move a muscle, staring into Seokjin’s eyes, frozen, silent, in love with man in front of him, too much in love with him to argue, to even doubt the truth of his words.

Yoongi loved Seokjin.

Loved him the way one loved the sun.

The way one’s vision stopped when they looked into the sun, so, too, did Yoongi’s thoughts stop when he looked into Seokjin’s eyes.

“She didn’t love you how I do,” Seokjin whispered.

Yoongi nodded, unable to even consider disagreeing.

Seokjin’s lips neared the front of Yoongi’s pants, skimming the fabric in the barest suggestion of something explicit.

“I’m all you need, Yoongi. Just me.”

Just you… and Jungkook, a small voice in Yoongi’s head corrected,

Chapter 30: Chapter 28

Chapter Text

The next morning, Jungkook woke up to a polite knock on his door. Yoongi had told him the night before that he should expect a proper apology from Jimin and Taehyung early in the morning.

Yoongi had seemed rather sure about the fact, and Jungkook had assumed that Yoongi had given both of the younger Sentinels a very stern talking to. But, truthfully, Jungkook wondered if that had even been necessary. Truthfully, both Sentinels had seemed well scolded from Jungkook’s words alone.

They did, after all, willingly leave Jungkook alone the rest of the day.

Regardless, Jungkook knew what to expect when he opened his door that morning.

Or he thought he did, anyway.

Instead of the over-eager puppies he was used to, Jimin and Taehyung were standing respectfully in the center of the hallway, almost two meters away from the door. Truthfully, it was almost comical how much room they had left between Jungkook and themselves.

“Good morning, sir?” Jungkook said, a little confused, a little amused.

“Good morning, Guide Jeon,” Jimin and Taehyung chorused together.

The use of the more formal and respectful title had Jungkook pressing his lips together. This was rather sweet.

It was clear that whether by Yoongi’s hand or Jungkook’s tone, Jimin and Taehyung had certainly learned their lesson. At least for now. For two leading academics of their own individual fields, they certainly struggled with retaining information.

“Are you here to bring me breakfast, sir?” Jungkook questioned.

Jimin blinked. Then Taehyung.

Then they both turned to each other, silently staring into each other’s eyes before, they turned back towards Jungkook.

Jimin smiled, a bit strained, “We’ll get that settled right away. Our apologies for the oversight. We came here with another purpose at the forefront of our minds.”

Jungkook nodded, trying his best not to giggle, “Which was, sir?”

“We wish to apologize,” Taehyung said, leaning down slightly to make better eye-contact with Jungkook, “We value you and we’ve never had such a strong imprinting before. It’s a struggle to listen to reason when it comes to you.”

“But we promise to make more of an effort. You’re not our Guide. You’re Guide Jeon, and we wish to sway you into bonding with us,” Jimin continued, ducking his head.

Jungkook stood in the doorway of his rooms, staring out into the hallway, at silver-clad Jimin and Taehyung both slightly hunched over in deference.

Jungkook… liked it.

“That would be appreciated,” Jungkook said.

“In line with attempting to woo you,” Taehyung said, “We wanted to take you out on what the Nulls call… an outing?”

“A date,” Jimin corrected.

“Would you be interested?” Taehyung questioned.

Jungkook paused.

Guides were always just promised to Sentinels. There was no need to win a Guide’s affections; they were expected to be handed over. After Sentinels selected a Guide, it was assumed that the Guide would find their way into their Sentinel’s bed soon enough. Obviously, drama shows always showed Sentinels wooing their Guides, but-

It really wasn’t done. Sentinels were expected to be kind and considerate towards their Guide, but they didn’t have to make their Guide like them. Why would they? They owned their Guide either way.

Sentinels courted other Sentinels; seducing each other with diamonds and gifting each other foreign moons.

Nulls went on dates with other Nulls, humble outings where they’d spend time with one another.

Jungkook wondered what it said about Jimin and Taehyung that they had decided to use a Null’s method rather than a Sentinels. Though, then again, likely even if Jimin and Taehyung desired to spoil Jungkook with the lavishness of a pseudo courtship attempt- it was likely out of their capability. They were youngest members of Bangtan, after all; Jungkook had a feeling that their access to the Bangtan coffers was limited, if the way Yoongi seemed to always have them on a leash was any indication.

Jungkook decided to accept Jimin and Taehyung at face value, nodding slowly.

“I will give you the chance to make it up to me,” Jungkook stipulated, understanding that his actual forgiveness was a reward that Jimin and Taehyung had not yet earned.

This seemed to be of no issue to Jimin or Taehyung; they accepted it with an eager nod to to their heads.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” they chorused, smiling brightly.

—

Jimin and Taehyung had led him to the dining hall. It was fairly empty; those that were seated were wearing pastels. No one was wearing anything light enough to set off Jungkook’s anxiety. Thankfully.

He was sitting across from Jimin and Taehyung, biting into the best biscuits he’d ever had. They were simple, no odd flavors or extreme aftertastes, just perfectly sweet and flaky.

“We thought you’d like these,” Jimin said.

“We understand you don’t have the palate that we do,” Taehyung followed.

Jungkook nodded, offering silent appreciation for their effort.

Because they did appear to be making an effort. Jimin and Taehyung seemed to have simultaneously dressed up and dressed down- they were out of uniform, but they were still dressed formally.

Jungkook was still wearing his own personal clothes, gifts from old compatibility Sentinels courting him. Well-made, maybe, but definitely not anything to the caliber of Jimin and Taehyung’s attire.

“Oh,” Jimin blinked, reaching into his pocket, “I have something for you. Your nose ring. The Crown Princess has approved of you at least getting the proper nose piercing for being a student of Vierna. If that suits you? I was thinking we could get that done today- I have the paperwork for it.”

Jimin held out a small stud, meant for a nose piercing. Silver metal molded into the emblem of Vierna academy with delicate filigree. It was beautiful.

But Jungkook was confused. “The Crown Princess agreed?”

“She said your skills more than warranted it,” Jimin said.

Just two nights ago, she had seen Jungkook as the degenerate Guide that had had burned down her precious Vierna.

And yet, here she was, granting an exception for Jungkook?

Then Jungkook remembered Yoongi’s words: She just wanted to punish you for it, and she did. That’s over with, now.

Jungkook supposed the words were more literally true than he had originally assumed. The Guide didn’t know what to make of that.

How could spend an entire evening trying to ensure someone felt humiliated, before turning around and complimenting them.

Was that fickleness?

It didn’t quite feel like that.

It’s not like her whims changed.

The Crown Princess had over a hundred years of experience… there had to be an underlying machination to her choices.

But, Jungkook just couldn’t see it.

Why?

“Jungkook,” Taehyung said, capturing the Guide’s attention, “Would you like your piercing placed?”

Jungkook didn’t even think about it, before he started nodding.

Sentinels had piercings along the shell of their ears; the number of studs indicating their rank and the stone indicating which unit of the military. The Queen had 16. The Crown Princess had 15, and the Crown family had 14. Bangtan had 13. Everyone else had twelve or less.

It did get rather confusing at times for Nulls and Guides. Jungkook couldn’t tell with a passing glance whether a stone was a Bangtan grey diamond or a Crown guard grey sapphire; however, Sentinels very much could.

Whether purposeful or not, the system very much lent itself to only keeping Sentinels in the loop and keeping everyone else out of it.

There was a general trend, though. The darker and more vivid the stone- the lower the rank and importance. Dark stones, bright reds and blues- they were all lower divisions of the military.

The paler the colors got, the closer they got to white, clear diamonds- the higher the rank they were. In a way, Jungkook supposed, that must have been purposeful. Jungkook couldn’t tell the difference between the Crown Guard and Bangtan, but it wasn’t exactly important that he did, or that any Guide or Null did, really. All that mattered was that they ducked their head when they ought to.

Sentinels wore their ranks in their ears.

Guides wore their own status on their noses. Guides received a piercing in their noses when they were young, a very simple gold stud. Very thin, very plain. It didn’t have to be ostentatious; it was in clear sight, on a Guide’s face. Impossible to miss. Sentinels could wear their hair down if they wished to blend into a Null crowd; but there was no way for Guides to hide their own status.

Which was for the best, Guides should always be easily recognizable. It was simply so people knew who to treat delicately. Guides needed special handling, after all. Special care.

Once Guides were excepted to military academies, the Academy replaced the Guide’s stud with one representing the Academy. Once Guides graduated from Vierna, they all received nose piercings, indicating where they had gotten their schooling from.

A Vierna stud was an incredibly desirable status symbol for a Guide; Vierna was the most competitive military academy in the country.

“Perfect,” Jimin smiled, “You’ll look so beautiful.”

“So accomplished,” Taehyung followed up, with a certain firmness to his tone that had Jungkook’s shoulders relaxing.

Only for them to tense again when Jungkook saw a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye- he turned his head. It was Hoseok, General Jung.

Like the other two elder members of Bangtan, Jungkook wasn’t quite sure what to think of Hoseok. He had seemed level-headed that day back at the Academy. He would have assumed the doctor was the voice of reason of the group, but from what Jungkook had seen since then of Hoseok, he was starting to think that likely wasn’t true.

That didn’t stop Jungkook’s heart from thumping an irregular rhythm. General Jung was just as handsome as the rest of his husbands. He was taller than the slightly-over-six-foot Jimin and Taehyung, but shorter than the near-seven-foot Seokjin and Namjoon.

Meaning that, seated, Jungkook had to almost impossibly crane his head up to look at Hoseok while he stood beside the table.

Actually, Hoseok and Yoongi had similar frames, about the same height and muscle tone. While the younger members were broad, and the older members were jacked to sh*t, Hoseok and Yoongi had an almost slim body structure. Lean, long limbs, hollow cheeks, bony hands.

Jungkook wondered if Hoseok was also part Alaudid.

It was unlikely that a Min and a Jung would have the same genotypic background though, even if they were phenotypically similar.

Regardless of being slighter, there was something uniquely intimidating about Hoseok; his response time was practically non-existent.

“Jimin. Taehyung,” Hoseok greeted as he walked towards them. It was a more formal greeting than Yoongi would have used.

Yoongi only seemed to refer to Jimin and Taehyung with nicknames.

The younger Sentinels turned their heads, bright smiles quickly appearing on their faces as they chorused, “Sir.”

Hoseok hummed, standing beside the table, glancing over the spread; the Sentinel’s choice not to take a seat felt like a message, though Jungkook wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. “Either the head chef had an aneurysm this morning or this is from the lower kitchens,” Hoseok said, “There is no way Chef Forsyl made biscuits using wheat flour.”

“He hates anything grown on-planet,” Jimin nodded, “We sent for this from the lower kitchens; we figured Jungkook would enjoy it better.”

“It’s easier on his tastebuds,” Taehyung added.

“Ah, the servant’s kitchen. Yes, that would be easier on the palate,” Hoseok said, turning his head to look at Jungkook, “How are you enjoying breakfast, Jungkook?”

Jungkook swallowed the bite that was in his mouth; he hadn’t finished chewing, so it’s harsh edges hurt on the way down his esophagus, but he ignored it. Nodding as his eyes watered ever so slightly, he said, “It’s great, General Jung. I loved it.”

General Jung stared at him for a second, before stating very casually, “You should chew 32 times before swallowing. Or at least do the bare minimum to prevent the bolus from making minor lacerations in your esophagus going forward.”

Jungkook coughed, face feeling hot, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Hoseok turned back towards Jimin and Taehyung, “If you would like me to do the Guide’s procedure myself? I do have availability until noon.”

Jimin and Taehyung’s faces lit right up, “Really? You can do it?”

Hoseok nodded, “I can.”

Jimin and Taehyung, despite their recent assurances of putting Jungkook’s wishes first, didn’t look his way for even a second before they were offering excited nods and thanking Hoseok for the offer to perform a permanent physical modification of Jungkook’s nose.

“We’d love to!”

“Thank you so much, sir!”

Jungkook decided it was likely for the best he stayed silent.

“I’ll see you in the med bay in fifteen minutes,” Hoseok said, giving them a nod, before turning around and walking away.

—

Jimin and Taehyung led Jungkook through the many twists and turns of the castle until the appeared to read the med bay.

Though Jimin and Taehyung didn’t announce it, it was immediately obvious with the way the grand, luxurious decoration of the castle stopped and a sort of sharp, modernity took its place. The beautiful white stone floors continued, but the carpet that ran down the center of the hallway stopped.

There were two large frosted glass doors; Jimin scanned his wrist over the handle and opened the door for Taehyung and Jungkook to go through. Jungkook was expecting a quiet space that smelled strongly of anti-septic. That was not the case at all.

There were many patients and many doctors and nurses walking around.

Jungkook had genuinely expected Hoseok to be the only healthcare provider in the building, though thinking about that now- the idea seemed rather ridiculous.

The room was very white, reminiscent of the rest of the palace; however, there was definitely a strong sense of efficiency and practicality that wasn’t apparent in the rest of the castle. The central area branched off into multiple hallways; signs indicated things like “OR 1, 2, 3” and “Cardiology” and “Labor and Delivery”.

Jungkook blinked.

“Is this a hospital?” he asked, glancing at Jimin and Taehyung with clear incredulousness in his voice.

“As my colleague at Capital Med likes to remind me- hospitals need to accept ambulance traffic, and we don’t,” a voice answered from behind him, “But our OR got the Le Serine machine before his did, so I digress.”

Jungkook turned around to see Hoseok; the Sentinel wasn’t even looking their way. He had tablet in his hands with what looked like an EKG reading pulled up.

“This is fine. He does have some Kuewal in him, and that’s correlated with high coronary BP- that’s what you get when you up-regulate tight junctions in arterioles,” Hoseok clicked his tongue, “Plus, he have a history of cardiac issues, so this level of deviation from normal is expected. Keep an eye on the ST segment, though, if it gets any higher, I will call cardiology.”

A nurse nodded and pulled the tablet out of Hoseok’s hands, and Hoseok turned on his heel. He just started walking away from Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook, without a word.

“Come on,” Jimin nudged Jungkook forward, “He does this a lot. Supposedly, the people shadowing him just run after him, so he forgets that the rest of us need some prompting.”

Jungkook nodded slowly.

Hoseok seemed to be walking, but as the three of them attempted to keep pace with him, Jungkook found himself practically jogging to keep up.

“You’re picking up a shift?” Taehyung asked, confusion in his voice.

“One of our EM physicians is absent today, and I decided to take up the shift, yes. Normally, the chimera ethics board meets today, but two of the members had personal emergencies so it was postponed.”

“You could have just taken the day off, sir,” Jimin said, “I’d take the day off.”

“Every day is your day off,” Hoseok said matter-of-factly, “Stars forbid you break a sweat, little prince of the Parks.”

“I haven’t been home in years,” Jimin whined, “Mother and Father can’t even spoil me anymore.”

“Oh right, my error,” Hoseok said, opening a door and glancing over his shoulder to give Jimin a look, “You’re Seokjin’s little prince now.”

The three of them walked into the room Hoseok had lead them to, before Hoseok closed the door behind them. Jungkook wasn’t familiar with hospital spaces; he wasn’t sure what kind of room it was, but there was a bed; lots of tubes and a few monitors behind the bed. Rows of cabinets lined the sides of the room.

Hoseok seemed not to see any need in maintaining eye-contact during conversation. He raised a hand toward the bed and said, “Sit.”

Jungkook assumed Hoseok was referring to him instead of an invisible dog and quietly did as Hoseok had ordered.

Jimin seemed to be unphased by Hoseok’s one-word command towards Jungkook, instead focusing on Hoseok’s earlier insult against his character, “So is Taehyung! Seokjin spoils us equally!”

Hoseok, who’d been fairly blank-faced this whole time, finally smiled, giving Taehyung a warm look, as he held a plastic covered packet in his hands and pushed a wheeled table towards Jungkook, “As our humble little scientist deserves. He’s earned the pampering. You, on the other hand, Jimin, ought to be sent back to bootcamp.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, the Sentinel offering an overdramatic reaction, “I’ll tell sir you said that.”

“I’m teasing, Jimin,” Hoseok hummed, “You published eight papers this year. Everyone knows you’re exceptional.”

“… That was all my students. I just advise.”

“Yes,” Hoseok said, “Of course, you definitely didn’t tell me about the dwarf star thesis six months before your PhD candidate submitted his thesis proposal.”

Hoseok set the packet on the table. He pulled on pale blue sterile gloves and sprayed them with something that smelled strongly of alcohol. Hoseok took out Jungkook’s simple Guide stud.

Even though Jungkook already had a piercing in his nose, the Graduate academy piercings required two holes- it was the Crown’s way of ensuring that Guides had the proper paperwork to get a secondary piercing and wear them.

Pulling out what looked like a marker out of one of his pockets, Hoseok’s cold, wet gloves held Jungkook’s jaw, holding his head still as he made a mark on Jungkook’s nose; Jungkook suppressed a shiver.

“That’s irrelevant. It’s his work. I just helped… a lot.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hoseok nodded, as he turned Jungkook’s head to face Jimin and Taehyung, “Does this seem like an aesthetically pleasing spot to both of you? I’m assuming you didn’t want a septum.”

Taehyung shook his head, “Side is fine, sir.”

“No one gets septums anymore, sir. They’re mean,” Jimin huffed.

Hoseok shrugged, opening the plastic container, revealing a needle, some gauze, a small bottle, and a couple of other things Jungkook didn’t recognize.

“Mean, sir?” Jungkook questioned softly.

“Almost a century ago, Guide piercings used to be larger septum hoops, around two inches in diameter. Sentinels used to be able to hook their fingers in them and pull their Guides around by the nose, though that went away after the ‘Guide rights movement’ in 2620,” Hoseok held up a needle, “This is a vasoconstrictor and very mild analgesic to help with the pain.”

Hoseok pressed something into Jungkook’s nose. It felt cold or maybe that was still just Hoseok’s gloves.

Jungkook found it incredibly ironic that Hoseok wished to protect Jungkook from the very mild pain that came from getting a piercing, but appeared to have no issue with Guides being tugged around like misbehaving cattle.

That seemed to be the trend with all Sentinels, though. Whether they coddled Jungkook or took advantage of him was only dependent on whichever one was more convenient for them at the time.

“Seokjin still makes his Guides get them though,” Jimin said.

“The entire Crown family does,” Taehyung added.

“He’s a Sentinel of tradition,” Hoseok hummed. The Sentinel finally met Jungkook’s eyes for the briefest of moments. “This shouldn’t hurt.”

“You can hold my hand,” Taehyung offered, extending a hand out.

Jungkook took it, not because he was afraid of the pain, but because of the comforting feeling to hold someone’s hand, to be seen as a person after being spoken about as if he wasn’t there for the past thirty minutes.

Jungkook squeezed Taehyung’s hand as Hoseok pierced his nose. He didn’t feel a thing as the needle pierced his skin. The doctor asked Jimin for the nose ring, which Jimin handed over silently. Hoseok placed the jewelry, snapped the back closed, and then stood up.

The doctor began removing his gloves, placing everything back in the plastic package to throw away.

“There shouldn’t be any bleeding or pain. If there is, page the medbay,” Hoseok said, “Questions?”

Jimin shook his head, but Taehyung asked, “We can’t call you?”

“No. My cardiac patient is experiencing a left bundle branch block, so I will be occupied. Enjoy your day out in the Capital, boys,” Hoseok said before turning on his heel and leaving.

The door softly clicked closed behind him leaving Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in silence.

The surgery room was still for a moment.

Though it was likely comfortable silence for Jimin and Taehyung, Jungkook was reeling from the experience.

Jungkook blinked.

“Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” Jimin asked, smiling. Though Jimin had remained fairly detached the entire time Hoseok had been in the room, the second the Sentinel had left, Jimin was moving closer, brushing Jungkook’s hair back, and attempting to sit on the bed next to Jungkook. As soon as the authority had left, Jimin felt free to act on his urges again, felt free to start treating Jungkook like a person again.

A very small part of Jungkook wanted to shove Jimin away.

A much larger part of him took comfort in Jimin’s touch, finding it much easier to just give in and be thankful for the intimacy.

“Blunt, impersonal, in a rush?” Jimin offered.

“Rude?” Taehyung followed up.

“I mean, yes, but does he always ignore Guides like that?” Jungkook asked.

“Oh,” Jimin nodded, reaching out to gently grasp Jungkook’s hand, “Well… That’s not a Hoseok thing. You’re ours, now. Even if we aren’t bonded, we are responsible for you… And that includes making your medical decisions; that’s a general healthcare thing you’ll have to deal with now.”

Jungkook blinked.

Making your medical decisions.

The words repeated in his head, and each time they did, a wave of incredulousness swept over him.

Did Jimin and Taehyung know anything about him?

Did they know he was allergic to strawberries? Did they know he broke his leg when he was 12? Did they know that he got laser eye surgery when he was 16?

Did they know anything about him?

Jungkook swallowed; tendrils of anger brushing against his fingertips. He felt like he should be mad. Or maybe not.

He wasn’t sure.

But he felt vaguely sick

“Oh!” Jimin exclaimed, “We forgot to ask him to remove your chip.”

“Jimin, maybe this isn’t the best time for that conversation,” Taehyung replied quietly, looking at Jungkook’s face, “Jungkook’s blood pressure sounds high.”

As if the issue at hand is my blood pressure.

As if that was the only problem at the moment.

Not the fact that Jungkook should consider himself lucky that he’s not led around by a ring in his nose like a cow; not that his physician had completely ignored him in favor of two Sentinels that had known him for a grand total of four days.

“I’d like to leave now,” Jungkook said, hands curling into fists.

—

“You’ll have fun!” Jimin promised, squeezing Jungkook’s hand.

Though Jungkook was pretty sure he wouldn’t, he gave Jimin a half-hearted nod, anyway.

Really, Jungkook wasn’t sure what he was doing right now. The realities of his situation were starting to hit him. This is not how he imagined life post being accepted as Bangtan’s Guide. Though, really even being accepted by Bangtan hadn’t gone the way he had planned. Even just Bangtan, themselves, hadn’t been what Jungkook was expecting.

Jungkook thought he’d be accepted by Bangtan, all of Bangtan, immediately. He thought they’d see his value at first glance, that it would be obvious that he was extraordinary. He didn’t think that he would barely manage to impress half the team.

Past that though, he thought he’d be spoken to as someone deserving of respect; he thought he’d be valued.

He didn’t think that his uniform would be the main thing his Sentinels would concern themselves with. He didn’t think that one of them wouldn’t even spend time with him. He didn’t think that he’d feel alone and isolated. He didn’t the stupid bullying from the Academy would follow him here and that the Princess, herself, would participate in it.

Jungkook thought he’d be important.

Special.

He was very, incredibly wrong.

Even just the Sentinels. Jungkook had thought Jimin would be a genius; he imagined Jimin with bright, charismatic smiles, an aura of poised intellectualism, and a dislike for frivolity. He imagined Taehyung as an out-spoken, quirky conversationalist, with a depth of understanding of other individuals that others could only dream of having. Yoongi, Jungkook had seen in his mind as quiet, somewhat introverted, very calculated and precise in his actions, maybe even a bit of a micro-manager.

Instead- Jungkook had to deal with: one very spoiled, whiny, and superficial son of a very influential Sentinel family, one silent, copycat that seemed of having an original thought without exorbitant prompting, and one neglectful disciplinarian that seemed to think brutal whippings were the solution to everything.

Bangtan was very very very different from how Jungkook had imagined them.

The Bangtan he had fallen in love with from afar and the Bangtan that met him in harsh reality couldn’t be more opposite.

Part of Jungkook wanted to offer the benefit of the doubt; it’s only been a few days; they’re in the Capital palace, where political enemies were watching their every move.

Part of Jungkook knew better; there was absolutely no way Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi behaved much different in private; odds were that they were even worse in private. Jungkook had a sinking feeling that this was them on their best behavior.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how to feel about that. What to do about that.

Regardless of everything, they were still Jungkook’s perfect matches. There was no denying that Jungkook had found his match in them.

Jungkook turned his head to look at Taehyung. Taehyung’s green aura fluttered, like an emerald-colored fabric whispering the breeze. It was lighter at the edges, as if it was catching passing light. As the shimmering fabric got closer to his person, the shadows got darker, from a bright gemstone to the color of evergreens at midnight. And then it was just black. An inch away Taehyung’s skin was just pure, pitch black.

Well, almost pure. There was a small sparkle of light. It was harder to see like this, considering that Taehyung was sitting, but to the left side of his neck, there was a dot of light. Like a single star in an endless night sky.

That was Jungkook.

That was Jungkook’s aura, and it was stuck there. There was no way Jungkook would be able to retrieve it; after all, it didn’t feel like an active extension of him anymore; it felt more like an auxiliary. It felt like a ring that Jungkook had become accustomed to having on his finger; not a part of him, but still, unimaginable to suddenly have that familiar weight gone.

No. Jungkook was attached to these people. To Bangtan. They were his.

No matter how disappointing they were, they were still his. The thought of another Guide handling Bangtan’s zones made Jungkook’s blood boil.

The question was what to do about all of this. Because, Jungkook couldn’t survive living decades like this, submissively following Sentinels that didn’t seem to ascribe him a single intelligent thought. He couldn’t have the only important issues in his life being what he wore and if he clicked his tongue before he spoke.

He’d go insane.

It was simply not an option.

But then… what was there to do?

Fight, he sighed to himself. He had thought that fighting adversity would have been a thing left at the academy, but it seems it followed him here.

Goals.

He needed to come up with goals.

For one- getting a usable uniform and getting useful training. A small goal, but likely achievable and would set him up for further success.

Two…

Hm.

Could he say making Bangtan respect him? That was both a very small thing to ask for, and something that seemed to be a massive struggle within itself.

f*ck it. When is anything ever easy?

Jimin and Taehyung first.

Then he’ll work on Yoongi.

And maybe… during all of this, he could whip the three of them into shape. Jungkook didn’t want to assume he knew more than people three times his age, but at the same time… he couldn’t help but think so.

If this was the best Bangtan could do- they certainly didn’t deserve all the accolades they received.

That could be a vague number 3.

And, just for fun, goal number 4 can be smashing Melev’s face into the tarmac. He couldn’t help but think a broken nose would suit her bone structure perfectly. Truly, it would be an improvement.

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the thought.

“We’re here,” Jimin said, as the ship came to a stop.

Bangtan’s personal ship slowed to a stop, because of course they were too good to take the magnetic rail that could have easily taken them to the Capital. Instead, Jimin and Taehyung had bundled Jungkook into a blast-proof ship with a personal crew of 12 that had bowed as they boarded.

The ship’s engineer- because of course a domestic ship being used for asininely short travel needed a personal engineer. He wore the typical light grey that indicated someone as a direct subordinate of Bangtan.

Their own ship. Their own pilots. Their own engineer.

This ship was one of the smallest 134345 models. Even if it fell straight down, out of the sky, Jungkook would still be willing to bet all that he was worth (this was an admittedly a very meager amount) that he’d survive the crash.

All these resources, people, and incredible machinery… being squandered on going shopping.

Jungkook sighed.

“General Park, General Kim. Is there a specific place you’d like to be beamed down?” the engineer asked.

Jimin glanced at Jungkook, before turning back to the engineer. “Our Guide is with us, so just land wherever is the most convenient. There’s no reason to subject him to potential side-effects for no reason.”

Jungkook frowned, glancing at Jimin, then Taehyung.

The engineer nodded, turning on his heel to relay the information to the pilots.

“Side-effects, sir?” Jungkook questioned. He’d never heard anything negative about beaming down; it was the most efficient way of getting out of a ship, as it allowed the ship to stay in the air and not have to waste fuel de-accelerating and re-accelerating during landing and take off.

“It’s radiation, for one, that everyone should limit exposure to,” Taehyung said, “And though rare, since the mechanism is very precise, even error at the millionth degree can cause friction, which as you know causes charge separation. Internal static is a torturous feeling and dispelling it is a very invasive procedure.”

Jungkook just stared at Taehyung.

“And what makes a Guide more prone to experiencing that, sir? The likehood of the separation of charge increases with lower moisture content. I highly doubt the amount of water I have in my body is that drastically different from either of yours. Or, maybe its that there’s a material in my body that is more prone to shedding or receiving electrons- but that would imply that all Sentinels have a mod addressing that. Is that the case? Is there a mod for that?” Jungkook asked, almost ranting at Taehyung, finally nearing the end of his patience after the past few days of trying to be understanding.

Taehyung paused.

“Well. Yes, there is, but it has a very low therapeutic ratio,” Jimin said, “Neither Taehyung nor I have it.”

“So then why can you beam down when you want, but I’m unable to, sir?” Jungkook’s voice sharpened.

“Are you upset?” Jimin asked.

“No. I just want to beam down.”

Taehyung tilted his head, “There is no reason to put you at risk of feeling as though your bones itch if we can help it. The only way to treat it is to either use copper needles and alleviate the charge imbalances or wait for your body to do it itself. They’re very large needles, Jungkook.”

“But you do it.”

“During emergencies. Yes.”

“Only emergencies?”

“Well. Yes. I don’t really like needles.”

“Wait, why would the engineer ask, if you didn’t do it regularly, sir?”

Jimin shrugged. “I know Seokjin beams down, since he’s old as rocks and has the mod. Plus he uses this ship much more often than we do. So that’s likely why.”

“We can call them back and ask him if you’d like?” Taehyung asked.

“Then why was I taught that beaming down was best?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowing.

“That… that sounds like a Yoongi question,” Jimin hummed, looking puzzled himself.

What else had he learned from Vierna was wrong?

They had always told him that they should beam down. Truly, Vierna couldn’t value fuel over the health of Guides?

Could they?

—

Though Jungkook’s opinion of Bangtan had definitely become tinged with disappointment, the rest of the world still worshipped the ground they walked on.

As he stepped out of Bangtan’s ship, walked down the ramp, and faced the crowd of elite that were entering or exiting their own private ships, Jungkook very quickly realized that the stifling air that he thought was particular to the palace was most definitely also present here.

The crowd was a rolling wave of ducked heads, fists pressed to their chest, submissively staring at the ground as Jimin and Taehyung walked past. It was almost shocking in itself that Jimin and Taehyung seemed so comfortable with it.

“General.”

“General.”

“General.”

“General.”

“General.”

The crowd echoed, and Jimin just grinned, flashing his bright white smile that Jungkook had adored from afar for so long. Taehyung raised a hand, tilting his head slightly, a motion that seemed less like the quiet Sentinel and more akin to something Yoongi would do.

The crowd was almost entirely blonde- they were all Sentinels. Jungkook had never seen so many Sentinels in one place. Adult Sentinels, anyway.

Taehyung pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist, making it so Jungkook was a half step behind him. Jungkook appreciated it.

“Look at how respected your Sentinels are,” Jimin said, voice low in Jungkook’s ear.

Odds were that every single member of the crowd overheard Jimin’s statement, which in itself was crass but-

If only you respected me half as much, Jungkook thought, looking out at the sea of ducked blonde heads.

—

“So we wanted you to see a tailor that hopefully would appreciate your artistic vision more than the palace one,” Jimin said, waving his glass.

My artistic vision… I asked for a functional uniform.

I asked for a uniform that would protect me from bullets.

Jungkook swallowed, that uneasy feeling filling his stomach again.

He purposefully tried to distract himself, looking at his surroundings- Jimin’s glass caught his eye.

Jungkook wasn’t even sure where Jimin had got it from. They all had been walking down a central street and suddenly there was one bright pink bubbly drink in Jimin’s hand.

He had made no attempt at offering one to Jungkook or Taehyung, but judging at the way Taehyung scrunched his nose at the sight of it, Jungkook assumed that was probably for the best.

“You also need a wardrobe,” Taehyung said, “It will be easier to acclimate if you look the part. Seokjin took me shopping, too, before he officially presented me to the Princess.”

Whereas I had to met her in a hodgepodge of formal clothes I had been gifted as a teen.

“That would be nice, sir” Jungkook said with a nod.

Jimin glanced at him, a bright expression on his face, charming in the way he leaned down to make eye-contact, “A full wardrobe it is, Jungkookie.”

“There’s a few tailors Seokjin likes here,” Taehyung said, “We can take a look around until you see one you’re comfortable with.”

“Actually…” Jungkook trailed, remembering the tailor Baekhyun had mentioned, “I think I know who I want, sir.”

—

Jimin seemed puzzled.

Taehyung looked around the shop in silence.

“Again,” Jimin whispered, “Are you sure you want this one? They aren’t even a Sentinel.”

Jungkook shrugged, “You don’t need super-senses to make a good uniform. Besides, she comes recommended, sir.”

“Recommended?” Jimin repeated, “Who’s recommending tailors to you? Should I be concerned?”

“Just a friend from the Academy, sir. His name’s Baekhyun.”

“Oh right,” Jimin nodded, “We met him on the way out of Vierna.”

“He seemed to care about you ver much,” Taehyung said, “I’m happy you had such a friend at the Academy. It seemed like a hard time for you.”

“You wouldn’t know the half of it, sir,” Jungkook sighed.

“I would, actually,” Taehyung nodded, “I struggled my way through the Academy, as well.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “You’re a Sentinel.”

“Not from a good family. And… well, I wasn’t quite as advanced as my peers; Seokjin used to say he just wanted to spend more time with me before he sent me off to the Academy, but- we all knew I was just delayed.”

Taehyung looked at Jungkook. Though Taehyung’s tone of voice hadn’t changed, there was a sudden sobriety that entered his eyes and twisted his lips.

That painting.

Jungkook was reminded of the title of that pitch black painting he saw in Taehyung’s mind.

“When I finally lost track of time”

Taehyung was young, too, for a Sentinel, at least. It’s not as though his hardships were decades ago. His lifespan was still comparable to Jungkook’s. He had been kidnapped, kept in the dark, and forced to do manual labor.

That was traumatizing. Scarring.

Jungkook couldn’t imagine experiencing something like that.

Something so awful.

Maybe Jungkook was being too harsh in his judgements.

“You deserved all the time you needed.” Jimin’s voice was firm; he stared at Taehyung, a heavy look leveling at the other Sentinel.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I did need time,” Taehyung shrugged.

“Taehyung.”

“Jimin.”

Jimin huffed, taking a big gulp of his bubbly pink drink and then staring at Taehyung, extending the glass out towards Taehyung.

The other Sentinel frowned, “That’s mean.”

Jimin took another sip, and then once again extended the glass out to Taehyung.

“Jimin,” Taehyung’s voice entered a whine.

Jimin just shrugged and took another sip. “You should be nicer to yourself.”

“So because I’m not, you’re being mean?”

“Yep. Try some, Taehyung,” Jimin said, holding the glass out, swirling the liquid.

Taehyung groaned, snatching the glass out of Jimin’s hand and taking three successive sips of the drink, mimicking the three sips Jimin had taken, before practically throwing the glass back towards Jimin.

“That thing is so nasty,” Taehyung grumbled.

“Then don’t be mean to yourself,” Jimin replied.

Jungkook just frowned, very confused at the interaction that had just occurred.

“You… you didn’t have to drink it, if you didn’t want to, sir,” Jungkook said; the tone of his voice turning the statement into a question.

“It would have bothered me all day if I didn’t,” Taehyung sighed, licking his lips, trying to get rid of the taste.

“Bothered you, sir?”

“Taehyung’s part Osteic,” Jimin said, as if that was explanation enough.

Jungkook just blinked.

“They’re an aquatic species. You know how little fish mimic each other and swim in synchronized groups? The Osteic do something similar, and the way downstream effects of mods work- I get the urge to copy people. Especially when I’m stressed or tired,” Taehyung said, “Jimin’s gotten good at conversing with me, even with that tendency.”

“It’s invalid for anyone to claim to have an issue with it,” Jimin said, “It’s never been a problem. You just have a different rhythm of speech. That’s all.”

Taehyung pressed a quick kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” Jungkook trailed, a couple things clicking into place in his mind, “So… that’s why you finish his sentences sometimes, sir?”

Taehyung nodded, “Exactly right. It’s been a stressful few days, normally it’s not this bad. Though it’s also been much worse on occasion.”

“Worse?”

“Once, nearly a decade ago, I wasn’t paying much attention when Seokjin and I were greeting the Crown Princess. And since they’re family, Seokjin occasionally addresses her as ‘cousin’ instead of her title. And then I copied him and called her that too,” Taehyung sighed, shaking his head, “It was awful. Even a Null could hear a pin drop in that room.”

“Pleaseee, it wasn’t that bad,” Jimin waved a hand.

“She still calls me cousin sometimes to remind me about it!” Taehyung exclaimed.

“See? She thought it was funny.”

“I think it’s more a sign that she holds a grudge about it.”

“She’s too regal to hold a grudge.”

Taehyung gave Jimin a look, but didn’t verbally disagree.

Jungkook looked around the tailor’s shop. It was fairly different from the others that Jimin and Taehyung had pointed out as shops that Seokjin preferred. The other shops were extravagant but incredibly isolating; the doors were shut, the windows were blacked out. There was no one around. If Jungkook hadn’t been told otherwise, he’d never have known that they were even open for business.

This shop though, that Baekhyun had recommended, was starkly different. The doors had been left wide open; the windows were crystal clear and buffed to a shine, displaying the designs in the window. Pots of flowers lined the sides of the building as they had walked towards the door.

When they walked in, the fresh scent of linen met Jungkook’s nose.

The lights were warm; ready-made clothes hung on racks, presented next to reams of fabric that appeared to have been used to make them. It was accessible. Jungkook could easily look about the shop and understand what different fabrics looked like in finished products, something that he hadn’t understood back at the palace when the seamstress had just thrown term after term around.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

Jungkook glanced to his left.

A dark-haired brunette- so not a Sentinel- walked out; she had an intelligent face, sharp nose, and bony collarbones and shoulders; she walked towards them, shoes clicking against the floor, something Jungkook had found notable after being in the palace the past few days.

No one in the palace wore loud shoes- likely a concession towards the hundreds of Sentinels that roamed the building.

“Yes…” Jungkook started, unsure if it was socially acceptable for him to speak first instead of Jimin and Taehyung.

The woman didn’t seem to mind. Her attention was entirely focused on him; she didn’t even spare Jimin and Taehyung a glance, which was almost absurd. Even though Jimin and Taehyung weren’t in uniform, it was hard to mistake the thirteen diamonds in their ears. Though, since she wasn’t a Sentinel, it was also possible that maybe she didn’t notice? Guides and Nulls were known to be rather unobservant.

“Yes, Mister? How can I help you?” she repeated, leaning towards him and giving him an encouraging expression, as if she knew how odd it felt for Jungkook to speak first.

“He’s looking to get a new wardrobe made,” Jimin answered.

The woman didn’t even glance at Jimin, continuing to make eye-contact with Jungkook. “Is that the case, Mister?” she asked.

Jungkook felt so seen. Even though it had been less than a week, he’d gotten used to being ignored and talked-over; it almost felt unbelievable that someone was actually addressing him directly, prompting him for an answer.

“Yes. Well, um, really I’m looking to have a uniform made. The wardrobe part is secondary.”

“Jungkook, I’m not sure she can make your uniform; that requires a lot of expertise and special fabric; there’s mechanisms that need to be properly circuited. That might be the work for a Sentinel,” Jimin started, placing a placating hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

The woman finally moved her gaze away from Jungkook, looking at Jimin, “None of that will be a problem. I’ve made dozens of military uniforms before, with and without circuitry.” She turned back towards Jungkook offering him a polite smile and an extended hand, “Why don’t you explain what you’re looking for while I take your measurements?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as he nodded, taking her hand. Something about this woman put him at ease.

—

The difference between this tailor, or Miss Ballen as she had introduced herself as, and the palace tailor was like night and day.

Ballen hadn’t even blinked as Jungkook had explained that he wanted something functional, like a typical Sentinel uniform. Jimin and Taehyung had been moderately helpful in explaining what those consisted of, even going so far as beeping the palace seamstress for her notes.

Ballen nodded along, quickly taking Jungkook’s measurements, before she began making her own comments regarding what she was considering doing.

Unlike before, all of these comments surrounded function.

“Sentinels do have more muscle tone than the typical Guide. I don’t want to burden you with the heavy plates they wear all over. It will exhaust you.”

“I’m strong,” Jungkook replied, defensive.

“I know,” she agreed immediately, without question, “But you’ll already be dealing with the weight of a blaster. I don’t want to add to that.”

“… That’s fair.”

“She does have a point, Jungkook,” Taehyung agreed, “This uniform will best suit you if it considers your particulars. We can do better than just making you an extra small Sentinel uniform.”

Ballen nodded. “Quite right. We want better for you, as any extraordinary Guide like yourself deserves.”

Jungkook blinked. “Extraordinary?”

“Well, you graduated from Vierna,” she said, nodding towards the jewelry that marked Jungkook’s nose, “You don’t see that coat of arms every day.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. After all, Nulls tend to be my primary clientele,” Ballen nodded, “But regardless, Baekhyun mentioned you might be coming, and explained your situation. His family is a regular customer of mine.”

“Oh,” Jimin snapped his fingers, “I have heard of this place.”

“Because of Baekhyun?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowing.

“No, no. It’s sponsored by that little Null family, right?” Jimin asked bluntly.

Ballen narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure who you’re referring to.”

“The shipbuilders?” Jimin clarified.

“The Wheyns?”

“Yes, them.”

“Sorry, I typically tend to associate the Wheyns with endless pockets and revolutionizing travel on Terra. They just don’t come to mind with the word ‘little’,” Ballen said, staring at Jimin pointedly.

Jimin blinked.

The corner of his lips quirked up, a puzzled look on his face.

“You’re an odd one, aren’t you?” Jimin asked.

“Am I?”

“Am I, General?” Jimin corrected.

Ballen stared at Jimin after that for a second, before shaking her head, as if she was disappointed by what Jimin had said.

“Sorry, General,” she said, before turning her attention back towards Jungkook.

—

Ms. Ballen had promised to have a prototype prepared within three days that Jungkook would be able to try on and tweak the fit of.

Jungkook had also asked her to include enough casual and formal pieces to make up a small wardrobe. Not because Jungkook necessarily liked the designs or wanted a bunch of clothes, but because this woman had been the first one to show him genuine kindness in the past few days.

She deserved the business.

After that, Jimin and Taehyung had spent the rest of the day dragging Jungkook from stall to stall. They took him into one boutique after another.

They bought him imported silk shirts, trousers made from the wool of some alien livestock cultivated on planet Renin, shoes made of vintage Italian leather- whatever that was. They cooed over him, draping him in finery, clutching at his hands.

It was kind of them, Jungkook knew, to take time and credits to spoil Jungkook in this way.

And Jungkook was thankful. This would allow him to fit in better during the next formal dinner he had to attend. He very much doubted Hoseok took this much consideration for his own Guide.

But…

Part of this felt very similar to the way Sentinels used to fawn over him when he was young. Before everything went to hell, young Sentinels used to take Jungkook to the Capital; they used to treat Jungkook to nice clothes, small trinkets, pretty baubles.

At the time, Jungkook had naively thought those Sentinels cared for him. It was only years later, Jungkook had realized their kind treatment was conditional.

Care, when conditional, means jack sh*t.

—

“Jungkook,” Jimin called, pointing to heavy-looking fabric, “Lets get you better bedding.”

Taehyung had run into one of his students, so he was talking to them outside of the store that Jungkook and Jimin were currently in.

“I thought my room was decorated to suit a foreign royal?”

“They are.”

“So are my sheets not already nice?” Jungkook questioned.

“There are lots of nice sheets. But I use these. And I think you should, too. I’m sensitive to the cold, and these sheets help retain body heat really well.”

“I don’t think I’m particularly sensitive to the cold.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “I’m sensitive for a Sentinel. Considering you’re an unmodded Guide, I”m sure our tolerance is about the same.”

“Is it though?” Jungkook questioned, “Your mod background comes from a cold-blooded reptile. I’m fully capable of regulating body temperature.”

“I’m telling you,” Jimin whined, “These are good. If you don’t like them, then we can just as easily take them off and go back to the ones you’ve been using.”

Jungkook sighed. “Fine.”