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"no nicer witch than you" | Wicked Witchcraft

Summary:

On the doorstep of what promises to be the worst winter in recent memory, Jungkook receives a surprise visit from his long-lost childhood friend Taehyung. Even as he struggles to fill the role of resident Witch, protecting the population from what lurks in the darkness, Jungkook is dragged into a web of political unrest and a brewing revolt spearheaded by his friends against the wealthy who leave the poor to die at the hands of Winter and his minions. This puts him face-to-face with the one other man who could stop the city's destruction - General Min Yoongi, Right Hand to the Council of Four. It's a cruel game that Fate has anything but the General's cooperation in mind.

Notes:

We're here because I'm VERY weak for witch au's - and also for too much world building.
Title lyrics are from Frank Sinatra's "Witchcraft"

Our local witch doesn't ever know what's going on so that's my excuse for convoluted writing.
Also this fic is just for fun and I am capable of distinguishing reality from fiction - this goes for all elements of their portrayed relationship in this fic.
This is gonna get smutty but I'll update the tags to reflect what actually occurs later on.

Okay, so with that out of the way, let's begin folks <3

Chapter 1: Autumn Part 1

Chapter Text

Autumn is the closing of the year.

The animals know it. They smell the frost on the wind days before it creeps over the ferns and undergrowth, scurrying into their homes and curling away from the killing elements. They hoard their provisions and take to the air and, slowly, the day-time woods grow silent.

The people know it too. It begins on the fringes; with the harvest coming to an end, farmhands lock the rotten barn doors and stash logs behind their hearths. Creeping up the streets, the encroaching winter slams windows shut and keels over home gardens.

Eventually, it crosses the River Virta. There it freezes over the machines spinning in the current, huge blades creaking to a halt. It lazily grips the throats of aristocrats in their feather quilts, merchants and artisans alike waking with a cough among sweaty covers. There are only two places it doesn’t touch; one being the Summer Palace, a crystal complex locked in eternal sunshine at the city’s northern apex.

The other is small, unobtrusive. The Witch’s home is always warm. It’s thanks to the enchanted fireplace, a protective force field against the winter surrounding the wooden cabin – a piece of summer all year long. Other spells he maintains keep the wood house dry, fireproof, and smelling like cinnamon. The candles, blazing almost as bright as the electric lamps. The shards of rock and crystal honing the warmth, focusing its intensity.

That’s why when Jungkook wakes up one night feeling like death from the winter cold, he knows something is very, very wrong.

 

Jungkook lays quietly. While his body tenses, his mind races through possibilities.

Did he forget to renew his enchantments? No, he did that yesterday. He hears the fire crackling, sounding less like comforting white noise and more like its distant wildfire cousin – wild, unhinged. Did he shut his door? Yes, he distinctly remembers doing so.

Then why can he hear it swinging?

Jungkook lunges for his knife. Sloppy, too sloppy. A force knocks him sideways, and Jungkook sees stars. Then, a muscled arm locks around his neck and his knees buckle. In desperation, Jungkook lashes out with his fist, eyes screwed shut. He feels the amulet on his chest burn white hot, searing into his skin.

The fireplace erupts. Ghoulish white flames shoot up to the ceiling, shrieking their rage. Every object in the cabin seems transformed – picture frames throw enormous black shadows that thrash in every direction. The air glows red.

Get out, Jungkook screams in his head. Get out!

“Well, that’s definitely new, Gukkie!”

Jungkook’s eyes open. His strength rapidly abandons him, and he slumps backwards into the body of his assailant. Why is that voice familiar? Why?

“Taehyung?”

The heat switches off. The flames retreat into their cage. And the familiarity takes on a face.

This isn’t little Tae. It can’t be. Jungkook needs to sit down, but finds he’s already slipped back onto his bed.

The man before him is tall, fit. His hair is grown out, wavy blonde locks he hasn’t bothered to reign in and now turn his face to shadow. But his eyes – they’re the same, twinkling with that recognizable farm-boy mischief.

Want to play, Gukkie?

A spring of emotion wells up in him, but Jungkook shoves it down before he does something dumb like cry. Instead, he tries to find his voice.

“Why…what?”

Yeah, way to go, Jungkook.

Tae grins, looking especially predatory in the dim cabin with various dead nature things hanging around him from the low ceiling.

“You miss me?”

Jungkook chokes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His throat closes up on him, eyes burning. “You show up after –years, Tae, and you show up like this? Where the hell were you?”

“What?”

Jungkook suddenly can’t breathe, but he grits his teeth and chokes past the emotions.

“Where were you when he died, Tae? I looked for you! I looked for you everywhere, don’t you know – don’t you realize – I thought that you’d died too!

He stands, hand curled around the amulet and yep, he’s definitely crying now.

Taehyung has the decency to look torn. Or maybe he’s just confused.

“Gukkie, I don’t understand. What happened? Who died? Where’s your old man?”

And then it clicks.

“Oh. Oh, no.”

Jungkook is sobbing in earnest. Then, Tae wraps his arms around him, and there’s that familiarity again, that comfort. It’s striking to him how similar that comfort is to how he’s buried himself in his work, the repetitive actions and the daily cycle that keep him from completely going insane.

But the difference is that’s the comfort Jungkook has built for himself. Tae has no business bringing his own, an intrusion of the worst kind.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I would have been here if I did, I promise.”

Jungkook knows. But he’s feeling especially petty, so he wipes his tears and running nose on Tae’s really nice clothing. Speaking of which, where’d those come from? Farm-boy Tae, who’d be up to his elbows in mud and cattle excrement gleefully flinging shit at Jungkook as he picked herbs and vegetables from the garden’s fringes, would never wear – is that gold?

Jungkook sniffs, pulling away a little. Damn his emotions for running away from him. He needs to be strong. And Tae needs to be chastised.

“Okay – Okay, first of all, what is this?”

Jungkook pokes Tae’s chest. His plunging v-line is thickly embroidered with gold thread, even studded with what look like real gemstones. The fabric is soft, thick, and Jungkook wants to run his hands over it despite having felt it before. Black velvet, maybe.

Tae quirks an eyebrow.

“Perks of the job.”

“Job?”

Tae squirms a little, for an instant, but then the smile is back and gleaming as if nothing had happened.

“You show me yours if I show you mine?”

 

Jungkook keeps an eye on Tae while making hot tea, not fully trusting this new, hotter version of his best friend that apparently jumps people in their sleep. He hopes Tae doesn’t notice him mixing calming herbs into his mixture. Jungkook steeps all the chamomile he owns, wishing he had something stronger – but that’s in the cellar for the winter.

Tae has draped himself over Jungkook’s low plated sofa, kicking one dirty leather boot up on the coffee table and peering with obvious curiosity at Jungkook’s home. Jungkook knows he isn’t making the best first impression. The day is coming to a close, and nocturnal Jungkook hadn’t even put away his brewing materials from that morning before crawling under his sheets. Several animal pelts are stretched over the back wall, surrounded by cubbies of herbs and drawers chained magically shut holding raw chunks of gemstone. Roots and clumps of vegetation tied with twine disappear into the rafters. His work station is a complete storm of gems, melted wax, faintly flickering electric lamps and magnifying lenses about to collapse onto a pile of drawing boards, shards of glass and precious stone, and a makeshift forge extending into the enchanted fireplace. Pillows, throw-rugs, and various knick-knacks litter the space. Most noticeable, however, is the glass contraption that takes up most of the room, flickering softly in the candle-light.

“I don’t remember that being here,” Tae says. Jungkook shrugs.

“I built it.”

“It’s beautiful, Gukkie. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a second to reply, pouring the steeped tea into two home-made tea cups. He fails to snuff out the spark of pride that burns from Tae’s praise.

“It helps me make weapons. Mostly. Do you see that hole in the ceiling?”

Tae nods.

“This cabin gets a lot of sun. That’s why – uh – that’s why we cleared out this part of the woods. Now I turn this sunlight into its rawest form of energy, to use for protection.”

“And for killing.” Tae leans forward, enthusiastic. “God…Jungkook, you’re a Witch now. Right? That’s you every night now, in the streets. Can I see your weapons?”

Jungkook is a little peeved, but before he speaks, a small form flits down from the contraption and jumps – right on Taehyung’s shoulders.

Tae almost falls off the couch, grabbing for something under his cloak.

“No, Tae! Stop!”

Jungkook hears a clatter as he lunges at his friend. Tae freezes, eyes wide. A tiny black ferret sits perched on his head, white muzzle twitching.

“Gukkie, the tea…”

Jungkook realizes he knocked the teacups over. They’ve smashed on the ground, tea seeping into the floorboards.

“I can get it, Jungkook.”

Ignoring him, Jungkook extends his right hand. Under Tae’s perturbed gaze, the fluid reverses, clumping together as shards of ceramic snap back into place and fly back up into his grip. Jungkook breathes in, trying to calm himself.

“I can’t believe you almost killed Cooky.”

“What?” Tae is still shaken, staring at his hand. Jungkook reaches him and yanks his arm away from the enormous dagger hilt at his side. “You have a familiar.”

“Of course I do. You said I was a Witch. But now that you’ve almost killed her, I don’t think you deserve to see my weapons.”

A hint of amusement teases at his lips as he sees Tae’s horror-stricken expression.

“No – Gukkie, I’m so sorry! Look, I’ll apologize.”

He tries to grab at the ferret, but Cooky slips out of his grasp and Tae gets a mouth-full of ferret fur. Tae splutters, and Cooky wraps herself around his neck, pressing against the warm skin.

“Get off! Jungkook, help! Ma’am – ma’am, pleas remove yourself – fuck, why does it smell so bad –

He can’t help it – Jungkook bursts out laughing. He’s practically cackling, truly Witch-like, doubled over and holding his stomach. Somewhere above him, the glass contraption flashes white and yellow, iridescent in the twilight.

Tae stammers, and falls silent.

“Does this mean I can see –

“Christ, Tae! Fine!”

But Jungkook isn’t mad. In fact, despite his lingering annoyance, he feels happy – happier, maybe, than he’s been in months. And when he looks at his friend, he can’t help but think that, even if for a moment, he’s so glad he’s not alone anymore.