#bts alien au

[helenazbmrskai]

Mating Act (m)

Title [Mating Act]

Pairing [Alien! Yoongi x Human Slave! Reader]

Genre [Alien AU, Sci-fi, Smut, Angst, Fluff]

Summary [You make two choices that change your life entirely. First, you make a choice when you decide to save a family and get kidnapped instead of them, the second you make is when you force imprinting on an alien that takes one wife in his life which you decide will be only you.]

Words [5,2k]

Warnings [General warnings: slavery, bad treatment, dystopia setting, human trafficking, Sexual content: playful neck grabbing, teasing, sexual tension, first-time sex, dirty talk, manhandling, mention of human and wife a lot, alien anatomy (black ink, coldness and a very hard, big and cold dick also magic saliva), fingering, oral (f and m), unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink, positions (cock riding, doggy, missionary), y/n cries that is how good she feels, overstimulation, buckets of cum, creampie(s), begging, blow job, possessive alien yoongi]

Rating [+18]

A/N: I’m very excited to share this with you guys since I think this would be a great successor to my previous work that many of you liked called “Mating Season” It’s kind of the same but entirely different. This story is in the same universe but it takes place before mating season!

Masterlist //

Your scrunched eyes open slowly, first, you only see a blinding light your ears focus on the cracking sound of neon. It’s cold and you’re not wearing enough clothes for the cool temperature. It takes a few seconds for your senses to return to you and then you can fixate on your surroundings, it’s outdoors and midday as you see the sun going up high in the purplish blue sky.

It seemed that by the time you were unconscious, you arrived at the slave trading planet. The light grey iron bars are cold to the touch and it’s extremely noisy out there. Different species roam the cells it might be hundreds if not thousands of cells lined up for sale, and you’re one of them: a rare find, a human.

Your introduction is displayed for the buyers in numerous languages. There are a few that you speak so you can read it with ease: female human, breedable, young. You hate how the aliens size you up some even get threateningly close until you back up. They openly talk about you thinking that you can’t understand a single thing. Humans are stupid and weak. You’re a race that is almost at extinction. Only a few of you are left and your life expectancy is around eighty years old, it’s short compared to others but all too long for you humans. You managed to survive this long which is a miracle on its own. How pathetic of you to get caught in international body trafficking because you decided to save someone. At least you hope that the family you tried to protect is safe somewhere else you don’t have anything left to protect so you accept your faith.

Deep in your thoughts, you thought you lost all faith in survival. You don’t have anything to go back to but you’re still unable to give up.

You still don’t want to die.

Your defiant gaze meets with a young male. Shorter than his friends he has bland black hair with the same eyes that almost look human. You know that he’s not one of your own though he speaks a different language with his friends and has weird marking on his skin that looks exotic in your eyes.

“Do you like her?” A man next to him stops to read your description. They almost look sorry for you as they see you behind the cell.

“No.” Black hair says without giving it a second. His eyes bore into yours and when he decides to stop looking at you you make a second split decision. You’re going to choose him. Your hands grip the bars as you get as close to him as you can. It’s been a long time since you used that language but you have to try.

“Take me.” They can clearly understand your words, you speak their language. You point at the black-haired man.

“Oh, it seems to like you Yoongi.” A friendly voice slaps him on the shoulders. They talk animatedly among each other finding you intriguing. Books say that the human race is stupid and weak but you look none of those things. His friends encourage Yoongi to get closer to you and for once you don’t step back as he approaches after a little push in your direction. His hands grab onto the bars before he can regain his posture and you use that opportunity to put your hands on his. His hand is cold to the touch the cold blue veins on his hands are in contrast to his pale white skin.

“Yoongi.” You call out the word you heard them say that you think might be his name.

“We’re running out of time. Let’s take her and leave.” A man speaks up his eyes fixated on the holo panel that shows the time and some kind of message. He has some weird-looking glass in his eyes, you think he might be the captain of the ship. You’ve seen that type of accessory somewhere before.

“I didn’t say I will buy it.” Yoongi pulls his hand away like you dirtied him. You rack your brain on how to make him take you with him. Black hair and black eyes, cool skin and vine-like black ink make you think of a race. You loved to read books this is how you taught yourself a few of those languages and you remember reading about his species once. This decision might take you closer to your end but it will be better than rotting in this place so you grab his clothes and smash your lips on his through the tiny gap between the bars.

A race that takes one wife in his lifetime. You’re going to bet on that.

Your tongue forcefully enters his mouth using his surprise against him to successfully imprint your taste on him. After his mind catches up he pushes you away so hard that you land on your butt. His eyes almost look feral as he watches you, he’s very angry but closes his eyes to push the feeling down.

“Get up.” You haul yourself up from the floor getting close to him despite his hard gaze on you. You don’t flinch when he grabs your hair and pulls you close so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“You want to come, then come.” It’s not a calm and collected sentence that he whispers so close to you. It sounds like a threat but you smile and nod. Even if he hates you he has an obligation to you. With that kiss you sealed your fate with his, you’re his. His one and only human wife for all eternity.

Your back collides with the wall behind you as soon as you see your kidnapper his torture that you had to endure is replaying in the forefront of your mind as he fiddles with the cell keys your hostility is not lost on the young men that wait for your release. Yoongi paid for you in digital cash don’t have more time to waste.

He intends to take you with him so he asks for the ownership process to be sped up.

The kidnapper yanks you out of the cell not caring about how you almost land on your face through the force he uses. Yoongi catches you easily lifting you in his arms. You forced him into accepting you but he still does his job of protecting you. His glare is not meant for you this time as he looks displeased by your idle treatment right in front of him. His big hands are curled around you in pretence protection. You must be crazy because you actually relax in his secure hold.

“Hi.” One of his friends gets your attention as he waves. He looks at you with curious eyes he seems like he has a lot of questions for you.

“Hello.” You reply in a hoarse voice. You don’t remember the last time you ate or drank something.

“What’s your name? I’m Hoseok.” He points at you and then at himself. It’s nice of him to talk slowly so you have time to interpret his words. No one else speaks to you as you go. Probably on their way to their ship since one of them implied some important business. Yoongi doesn’t look at you but his hands are firm around you.

“Y/N.”

“Your name is weird.” Hoseok slaps his friend but you don’t take it in the wrong way. Of course, for them, a human name will sound weird.

“You’re being rude Taehyung.” Hoseok scolds the other guy before he turns back to you swaying in Yoongi’s arms. “I think your name is pretty and you speak our language pretty well. How did you learn it? On Earth?”

You shake your head. If you think about your home planet your heart starts aching. “No. I taught myself reading books.”

Now his other friend looks interested in the conversation. The one who has that weird-looking glass.

“Fascinating, to find a smart human like you. I want to run some tests.” Hearing that crazy scientist talk again brings back bad memories as your face becomes uncomfortable and your relaxed figure goes rigid inside Yoongi’s arms. He could feel you tense up in fear and he reacted by holding you more firmly to his chest.

“You’re scaring her. Stop it.” This is the first thing he says after he bought you. Namjoon looks sheepish and apologises and even Hoseok reassures you that he’s just not good with words and you won’t be a lab rat at all.

You accept their apology. You think they mean well and are quite friendly to your utter surprise. They seem like good guys. You feel like it’s a good time to reveal some of your thoughts.

“Just because you read my description doesn’t mean you know anything about me. I wouldn’t reveal anything that would put me at a disadvantage. This is how I could survive until now.” The words taste sour in your mind and you think about all the things you had to do and endure just to be here. Was it worth it? This life. You have thought about it more times than you would have liked to admit.

“It must have been hard for you.” Hoseok shows you empathy and you give him a smile back in silent thanks.

“Why did you choose Yoongi?” A younger male looks at you with curious eyes. They don’t show it but this is the question they all were curious about all along. Even Yoongi perks up when he thinks you’re not looking.

“My instinct told me to trust him.” As for why, you don’t know either. You saw countless men and women walk in front of your cage but you only wanted him to buy you. The moment his eyes unknowingly lingered on you you decided to go with him. He must have felt something too. You saw him before he saw you. He never looked at anyone else but you. If you ask him he will probably deny it but you’re sure of it.

You probably looked desperate. Now that you replay your impulsive behaviour in your mind colour blooms on your cheeks in embarrassment. You learned how to kiss from a book it didn’t occur to you before but what if you were a bad kisser? You started spiralling until your surroundings faded and you locked yourself inside your head. You didn’t register when you arrived on board or when he carried you to his room.

You shiver when he puts you down on his bed. The temperature of his room is colder than you’re used to.

You panic when he tugs your clothes without a word. You grab his cold hands and look into his eyes with widened ones. He looks back at you with predatory. You once read that humans had a ceremony to be pronounced wife and husband. You never experienced it as a human but it sounded romantic.

Thinking back on what you read.

Yoongi is an alien. His species only takes one wife and their ritual is different from yours. The road to becoming his wife is simple enough.

“Look at you being surprised. As if you didn’t know what you did when you kissed me first.” You didn’t know, you just acted impulsively without thinking. You wanted to say that to him but only a gasp left your lips as he pushed you down on his large bed. He won’t listen to any of your pathetic excuses now.

“You forced my hands. Even if you don’t want it anymore you have no other choice but to be mine.” You gulp down the saliva that accumulated in your mouth, his fierce eyes pin you to the spot lying helplessly under him. His hand is so cold as he wraps it around your neck gently he can feel your heartbeat accelerate under his palm. He studies your features taking in every inch of you from head to toe. Committing everything about you to memory. Yoongi curls a few locks of your long hair around his fingers inhaling your scent his nose rubs against your pulse point. Your hands hold onto his waist digging your fingers onto his side but he doesn’t care about it as he kisses the skin on your neck.

You’re dirty and dishevelled in appearance your captor was not kind to his prisoners and you look like a shell of yourself after everything that you’ve been through. Your average beauty doesn’t matter to Yoongi. He’s going to take you regardless of how beautiful you look in other's eyes or not. The kiss already sealed your fate as his bride. Imprinting your taste on him means that he can’t escape you. While Yoongi wants to take you right then and there he realises that you need to be in a better shape to undertake the ritual. He did get a reaction rise out of you. So amusingly innocent.

“Take a shower, you reak.” You awkwardly look to the side unable to meet with his confident smirk. He likes to watch your face turn red. He pulls away from you and you take in a long-needed breath of fresh air. The coldness seeping back into your body makes you sober up and you scurry to his joined bathroom. Yoongi laughs as he sees you hide behind the door he makes sure you can operate the shower before he goes out to get some food for you. You don’t have any clothes to wear but you’re at least clean.

You find a clean cloth to wrap around your body in makeshift clothes it’s better than nothing as you need something to shield you from the cold.

Yoongi comes back before you can organize your thoughts. You could barely calm your heart as your mind kept replaying his soft lips on your neck and his body weight on you not to talk about those alluring black eyes. You could still see your reflection in them as you lock gazes. You look away when he puts the tray down in front of you full of food that you don’t know the name of. It’s not too bad once you take a bite but it’s bland the more you consume. It meets the purpose of filling you up as you no longer feel that gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach.

You jolt up when you feel his hand pull your wet hair to the other side making his way to your neck. He takes a long whiff of air finally smelling your natural scent that was previously masked by the dirt and sweat. He takes the opportunity to cover you in his scent rubbing his nose up and down your throat.

You can’t concentrate on eating anymore.

“Eat. You will need it.” As if he could read your mind he halts all movements simply deciding on laying his head on your shoulder. You pick up more food and try to ignore how his possessive touch engulfs your body in a backhug. You remember how angry he became once you forcibly kissed him he even pushed you hard enough to lose your footing. The way he accepted you is too sudden.

“Are you going to …” Unable to say the words you stop in the middle.

“Am I going to fuck you? Yes, I will.” You gulp.

“Don’t you hate me for kissing you?” You close your eyes when Yoongi wraps his fingers around your neck again this time with more force but gentle enough that you’re not choking on air he just pulls you against his chest holding you by the neck as his nose rubs against your left cheek.

“I am angry. You selfishly decided this on your own. I bet you don’t realise half of the mess you got yourself into. I don’t hate you though. There’s something about you that caught my eye.”

It’s only a small peck on your cheek but your hands tighten around the tray. You take in a much-needed breath when you realise he doesn’t hate you. It makes you feel better knowing that it’s not entirely your imagination. He did look at you.

“I admit I don’t know much.” You sheepishly reply confirming his words. You read some things about his species but there’s no proof that everything is accurate.

“It doesn’t matter as you will be mine anyway.” His hand pulls you close his fingers splayed over your stomach. You only have a thin cloth over your naked body while Yoongi is fully clothed.

“Put down the tray.” You follow his order bending down slightly to put the tray down onto the floor. You let out a surprised yelp when his hands find your ass under the thin material, your backside is on full display for his hungry eyes. Your fingers have a deadly grip on the edge of the bed as he kneads the soft flesh.

“Your smell comes strongly from here.” His thumb parts your folds some wetness is gathered there that sticks to his finger when he pulls back. “I read a few books about you too, enough to know that this means you like the idea of me fucking you.”

Yoongi hates how he can’t see you acting coy biting your lip so he forcibly pulls you back against his chest and pulls your face to the side. You land on his lap your legs dangling on either side of his thighs. He runs his finger up and down your wetness watching your expression turn hazy and your mouth open to let out a silent moan.

“You like this don’t you? Having your human pussy touched by me.” Yoongi finds your clit quickly finding out how your moans increase in volume when he rubs circles over it. You’re gushing over his fingers.

The black ink on his arms moves to stain your body with blackness until it circles over your thigh in two pretty hoops. Your body is getting overheated as his touches devour your body. Fingers dance around your folds, your hips. The black hoops around your ankles and thighs are a reminder of what you started. You’re going to become Yoongi’s and no one can stop that from happening.

Feeling overwhelmed you reach up to kiss him and he does with a growl. He doesn’t push you away like when you stole his first kiss. No. He pulls you closer turning you around until you’re chest to chest.

Your hand rests against his shoulders your fingernails digging into his skin as you feel one of his fingers enter you without warning. Yoongi swallows your sounds with his mouth pushing his finger in and out of your pussy until your essence is running down his wrist. He adds another one and another one stretching your walls as he devours your mouth your hips moving along without you noticing. Getting into the rhythm of riding his fingers. You need to pull back to get some air in between the kisses. His hungry expression manages to steal your last remaining string of sanity. The cloth around you barely covers you anymore and Yoongi goes to remove it and leave you entirely naked before him.

His attention goes to your perky nipples both hands grabbing a handful and pepper kisses around the mound.

So far he doesn’t look strange. Not that you have any experience of what you should see in a situation like this. You conclude that your newly formed tattoos are one of the few things that are specific to his race.

His tongue is cold it makes you shiver when he sucks on one of your nipples. He’s so cold but his coolness is welcomed by your feverish body.

“Lay down.” You do as he tells you. Eagerly and shamelessly open your legs and welcome him between them. This is really happening you realise when he takes off his clothes. His pale skin is pretty and cool against you. Even his cock lined with cold blue veins is pretty and cold when he rubs it between your folds. It’s big and hard like a rock against you. Yoongi can see how you tense up after seeing his size.

“It won’t hurt if you do as I tell you.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb kissing you surprisingly sweetly.

“O-okay.” You nod. You wanted this. You can’t back down now. This is your only chance to live a life without hardships. You’re going to take everything that he gives you.

“This will make it feel better.” Yoongi licks his finger and when it comes into contact with your clit you feel an overwhelming pleasure bloom inside you. His saliva is heightening your pleasure having some kind of chemical in it that helps you feel kind of high. It blocks the pain when his veiny head pushes through the tight rim of your muscle. You and Yoongi watch how his long cock disappears in you inch by inch. It doesn’t hurt at all as he keeps his thumb on your clit, only making you feel full.

“Too much.” You put your hand on your stomach and feel him sitting inside. He makes way no matter how much your body tries to constrict around the intrusion. He reaches your deepest part shaping you into his size.

“There. All in.” Yoongi chuckles when he sees you struggle. You want to stay still and move at the same time. It feels good and strange but too good. You want him to move but on the other hand, you need time to get accustomed to this fullness. Yoongi can see the outline of his cock bulge out of your tummy and he experimentally pushes against your skin. Your pussy pulse around him and get tighter as he massages your lower belly. “How does it feel my little human? Do you feel good?”

You nod kissing him back with passion as your tongues rub together. He continues his descent down your body kissing your neck and breasts. Filling your body with pretty black ink. You pulse and throb around him as he remains unmoving inside you. Not enough you roll your hips trying to show him you want him to move.

“Answer me. Does my cock make you feel good?” At first, he only pulls out a little before he thrusts back testing the waters before he pulls out more as he uses a steady pace to rock into you.

“Yes. Yes. So good please don’t stop. Fuck me harder.” Yoongi wonders how his wife learned how to say such dirty words in his language but he’s thankful for it as his cock appreciates the compliments. Just like you asked he fucks you harder hitting that spot inside you with more deep thrusts.

“Yoongi. Yoongi.” The way you moan his name spurs him on, grabbing your ankles he sinks the remaining inch inside you.

“Ah. Y/N.” He responds with your own name. Grabbing your hips he pumps his cock in and out of you at a fast pace until you can remember his shape. This is the first time he says your name and your walls constrict around him hearing him moaning it. He’s growing addicted to the feel of you. He can hear and smell and see you. The way your pussy swallows him in your tight and wet heat ruined every expectation he had before.

You feel way better than he imagined.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and your moans never cease to slip from your dry throat as he buries his shaft to the hilt.

“Yoongi, I feel weird.” You grab his hand need something to hold onto as you feel this weird tightness in your belly. Yoongi could sense you were almost there tripping over the edge of bliss you became tighter around him. You’re growing sensitive.

“I know. Hold onto me, my sweet wife.” You hold his hand as he twists it behind your back the position is uncomfortable but the minute his cock slips back inside your heat you forget about it as it reaches new places inside you. Your back is arched one hand is firmly holding you and the other is placed on your hips.

This position allows him to hit even deeper the tip of his cock curves around a spot that has you see stars. You’re panting with your face nearly suffocating against the bed. Unable to move or hold yourself up you’re entirely kept in place by the help of Yoongi. The tightness in your chest explodes as you cream around Yoongi’s cock. He doesn’t stop there he fucks you through overstimulation keeping up with his ruthless pace you tear through the bedsheets. His long fat cock claims your pussy as his with a heavy load of cum. The tattoos on your body all settle down as he finishes with a few sloppy thrusts into your buttered hole.

Once he pulls out you can feel his thick cum pour out and his fingers trace your tattoos painting your body with his whiteness until everything about you is covered in him. He doesn’t stop there, he pries your shaking legs open and latches onto your sensitive bud. Yoongi pushes his cum back with two of his fingers as his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s too much and you try to push his face away but he doesn’t budge. He holds both of your hands in his tight grip on your stomach as he continues to feast on your pussy.

“Yoongi. Oh, uh.” You squirm but you can’t escape his hold. “Please. Stop, i-it’s too much.” Tears start to roll down your cheeks the next orgasm you experience hurts so bad but you can’t deny how it feels incredible at the same time. More intense than the previous one you had you let go with a cry of his name and cum around his fingers.

“No. More.” Yoongi looks up after registering your hiccup and goes up to soothe you. His tongue licks your tears away showering your neck and face with kisses until your crying subsides.

Yoongi looks you over and while he finds you utterly appealing covered in his cum he has a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He pulls you close to his chest but after your senses come back one by one you start to feel his sticky cum all over you. Some still gush out of your hole as he hugs you to his body.

“No.” You shake your head reassuring him with a kiss. You don’t want to admit you cried because he felt so good.

This is the first time you experienced something like this. You’re in no way an expert but you know that his dick is not like any human males you’ve encountered in your books. They shouldn’t be so cold and big and the small ridges that kept rubbing your insides felt weird but incredibly good at the same time.

Even when he’s not aroused he’s so big. You want to touch it. “Can I?” Asking for permission you reach for his cock that rests against your leg but you don’t touch it until you get the green light for it.

“Sure.” Yoongi chuckles at your curiosity. It hasn’t been a hot minute that his dick was inside you but you want to touch it.

“It’s cold.” You muse, it’s slick with both of your cum so you could drag it up and down easily. Yoongi’s gasp catches in his throat it’s still sensitive but he lets you pump it until it’s hard again. You grow curious about how it tastes so you lick around the head as your hand moves up and down in slow motion. It doesn’t really taste like anything to you. Easy to swallow. You take your place in between his legs to get comfortable. Yoongi shivers when he feels your hot mouth around his most sensitive cockhead. You dip your tongue into the slit earning a loud groan from Yoongi his hand rests on top of your head only moving to get the hair out of his view of you sucking his cock.

“Do you like it?” You wonder if it feels good for him. This is the first time you’re doing this.

“Y-Yes, keep going.” You take more of him into your mouth encouraged by his hooded eyes that watch you. “Your mouth is very warm. It feels incredible.” You hum around a mouthful of cock he’s too big for you to get even half of him into your mouth. You stroke the skin that you can’t lick and you focus on his head instead of trying to choke on his cock. Even though you don’t think he wouldn’t like to see you choke on his length trying to fit everything. He reassures you that he likes everything you do to him. He doesn’t try to push your head down and you appreciate his thoughtfulness with an enthusiastic bob of your head up and down his length. He fills your mouth so much that it’s hard for you to swallow around it.

He's throbbing between your lips as you kiss the tip. He shows you how much he’s enjoying it with his lewd moans and sweet touches on your face and the back of your head. Contemplating what you should do with yourself you decide to give in to the desire once more. You want to have him again that it outweighs your concern to be able to take him after such a short time but it doesn’t deter you as you climb on his lap.

“Help me?” You ask shyly rubbing on his fully hard cock.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a smirk he can see how needy you are and he won’t deny his pretty wife anything. He kisses your lips sucking on your tongue as he guides your hips to hover over his cockhead.

He touches and kisses every mark and tattoo that appears on your skin.

You sink slowly at your own pace feeling full but you overcome the stretch of your body remembering his shape makes it easier for you to bury it fully into you. He’s big and hard as a rock inside you.

You need him to help you move but he’s more than eager to lift you and have you bounce on his cock. He’s wound up from your previous actions he had no idea he would be this turned on by seeing your small hands and mouth wrapped around his dick. You smell delicious he can’t help but kiss every inch he can reach as he guides you through the motions. You bounce on his cock your expression entirely clouded by pleasure as he hits the best spots inside your spongy walls. Yoongi kneads your ass pulling them apart to watch his cock disappear inside your small pussy. Your body might be coated in his cum but his cock is entirely coated in your arousal and cum until he shoots a fresh load inside your spent hole.

The others don’t see you the next couple of days only catch the back of Yoongi as he carries fresh food for you.

[chimcess]

Pitch Black || jjk (Prologue)

⮞ Chapter 0: Prologue Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Convict!Jungkook, Escaped Prisoner!Jungkook, Piolet!Reader, Captain!Reader, Holyman!Namjoon, Captain!Taehyung, Doctor!Jimin, Genre: Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure, Thriller, Suspense, Strangers to Enemies to ???, Slow Burn, LOTS of Angst, Light Fluff, Eventual Smut, Third Person POV, 18+ Only Word Count: 400+ Summary: Stranded on a barren planet lit by three suns, a group of survivors struggle to survive after their transporter crash-lands. Their situation grows dire when pilot Y/N discovers that every 22 years, an eclipse plunges the planet into darkness, unleashing swarms of flesh-eating creatures. Facing both external threats and internal tensions, the group forms a fragile alliance. As mistrust and secrets surface, Y/N's complicated dynamic with convict and murderer Jungkook intensifies, making the fight for survival against the darkness and the creatures even more perilous. A/N: When I decided to rewatch the Riddick movies and reread the comics, I never thought I'd get so inspired to write a fanfiction based off of a "what-if" scenario, but here we are. So, this story follows the main storyline in Pitch Black (I think that's pretty obvious by the title) with a pretty large twist that leads into the rest of the story that's to come. Like everything I write (I'm so sorry), this will be a massive series that's pulling from a few of my new obsessions as well as my own creative thoughts and feelings. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you guys will follow along.

In the cold stillness of his cryosleep chamber, Jungkook's thoughts flickered like static on a faulty transmission, defying the stasis meant to consume him. They said cryosleep shut down most of the brain—all but the primitive side, the animal instincts that lurked beneath reason. Maybe that explained why he was still awake when no one else was. He didn’t question it much anymore. It just was.

Transporting him with civilians had been a bold choice, one he suspected someone would regret soon enough. The faint echoes of the world beyond his chamber filtered through his sharpened senses—a faint murmuring with an Saramic lilt, chanting low and steady. Likely a holy man, heading for New Mecca. But what route would they take to get there? He played out the possibilities in his mind, trying to map the path based on the faint hum of the engines and the sense of distance stretching endlessly ahead.

Then there was the scent. Subtle, but there: sweat mixed with leather, the metallic tang of tools, and the earthy grit of worn boots. A woman, no doubt—a prospector, maybe one of those free settlers who carved out a living on the fringes of colonized space. He imagined her kind: practical, determined, stubborn as hell. And he knew one thing for certain. They never traveled the main roads.

That brought his focus back to the real problem: Taemin Lee. The so-called lawman. A brown-eyed devil with a mercenary streak and a personal agenda. Jungkook knew exactly what Lee planned to do—drag him back to slam, back to a cage. But Lee had made a critical mistake this time. He’d picked the wrong route. The long route. The ghost lane.

A long time between stops. A long time for something to go wrong.

And as if summoned by that thought, something did feel wrong. Subtly at first, but unmistakable. The hum of the engines wasn’t right—too uneven, like a heartbeat skipping in the dark. The muffled sounds of the ship’s systems filtered through the walls of his chamber, distorted but insistent. Alerts, maybe. Warnings. He couldn’t make out the specifics, but the tone was unmistakable: something was off.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his senses sharpening as his body fought against the enforced stillness of cryosleep. The faint shiver of vibration in the chamber walls had changed, the ship itself broadcasting unease. It was subtle, but he felt it—like prey sensing a predator in the shadows.

A long time between stops, indeed.

© chimcess, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[bangtanlovesus]

OMG I need help. I'm losing my mind.

I'm trying to find this one Jungkook alien/ yandere fanfic. It's about like the MC crash land on a semi-deserted plant and one by one her teammates die. They were on a mission and I think she meets Jungkook somehow. I think he saw her and tried to help her survive and they ended up having sex and one chapter she gets attack by this scary Alien that was kind described as the alien from quiet place and Jungkook saves her. She gets pregnant and she gives birth to a baby girl and goes back to earth.

I swear it was called purple something? Jungkook had like purple hair and tentacles, and had telepathic powers. His eyes turned lavender.

Please help. I feel like I'm going insane.

If you are also looking for the same fanfic. This wonderful person @myjungkookthighs found this on Ao3. Here's the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40992366/chapters/102732882

[sweetvoidstuff]

Steel and Starlight - Jungkook x Reader

Main works:

Unwanted Cargo

A Wolf in Chains

The Signal

The Hunt Begins

Releasing the Wolf

The Ship Is My Weapon

The Hunter and the Hunted

The Brink of It All

The Deal

The Breaking Point

Nowhere to Run

The Point of No Return

Epilogue: Loose Ends

Sidecontent:

None yet

[kookieswan]

Through Dying Stars - Genesis

Alien!BountyHunter!Jimin x DeliveryGirl!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre: Alien AU, BountyHunter AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Nonsexual NSFW/18+, Angsty, Slow Burn.

Warnings: MC gets roughed up a little but nothing too bad/descriptive. Jimin isn’t a nice guy, neither are Bangtan. Use of weapons (guns). Many of the characters are morally gray in this story. Please be warned!

Summary: It takes everything in you not to curse your crew mates to hell as the annoyingly large man smashes you into the wall. You can only begin to guess what you did to get Bangtan on your ass. Fuck.

Notes: SO. A new series is born and I’m very excited about it. I hope you all like it. I’ll be doing a taglist for it I think; all I ask is that you have your age indicated somewhere on your blog. I listened to Rosemary by Deftones while writing this chapter ⭐️

This Part I of the Through Dying Stars series. Find the Masterlist here ⭐️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck?!”

You’re awoken with a start, body violently tossed out of the plushness of your bed like a sack of potatoes. It takes a minute to grasp the situation, brain still clutching onto sleep like a lifeline after the night you’ve had. It doesn’t matter now though; you’re on the floor and definitely pissed off even if you can barely function. You thought that it had been agreed on that Tae would never man the ship again but apparently people want to play games.

Blinking slowly, the events slowly come back to you, a frown etching itself onto your face. You’re not sure what it’s been lately but Namjoons been taking on some more high profile jobs for Stellar Delivery Co. and it’s been taking its toll. Your body feels heavy, your mind scrambled as you roll to get up. Another day, another delivery you guess.

Standing up from the cold ground, you halt as the ship shakes again and the lights flicker in and out sporadically. Squinting your eyes, you grab for your bedside table, quickly pulling the communicator close to your lips. Something clearly isn’t right here, and as much as you’d rather be sleeping, you have to make sure it’s being taken care of lest you all die in a terrible explosion or something. That would be tragic and a little lame.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Speaking into the communicator gets you absolutely nothing in response, meaning that the ships in autopilot right now most likely. Had the others really managed to sleep through that jolt…? There’s no way. Changing the signal, you decide to call for Joon first since he’ll likely have the most answers.

“Joon…? Joon, come in.” Again, there’s no response, but that doesn’t necessarily worry you. Perhaps he’s actually decided to rest, it’s been days since he last slept if you’re remembering correctly. The man sleeps like a log, you had mistaken him for dead the first time you experienced it which is still traumatic to think about. Grumbling a bit, you try for Tae since Yoongi is likely actually dead to the world if it really is that late.

“Tae…? What the hell is happening right now…” Deciding it’s in your best interest to just go check after more radio silence. You pull on your cargo jacket over the little clothes you’ve worn to bed along with your communicator, feeling intensely wary was the lights continue to struggle to stay on.

Walking over to your door and peeking out of your room, a quick look down the hallway gives no indication of what’s happened. There’s not a soul in sight, your three other crew members apparently absent from the bunk area. Glancing down at your wrist as you rub away the remainder of sleep in your eyes, you note that it’s nearly 4am which makes the terrible feeling in your stomach grow worse. You knew it was late but not that damn late…

Stepping out, you hiss quietly as your bare feet are met with the cool ground of the ship. These assholes are really going to owe you after this; you had mentioned getting carpets but no. Maybe with some whining and pouts Joon will take you back to Ecalaxar for a shopping spree if you save everyone from a terrible fate. The thought makes you smile just barely, and with that, you start down the hall toward the cockpit.

Sadly, you don’t manage to get more than three steps down the corridor before you hear him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The man’s accented voice is unfamiliar and much too excited. Much too fucking giddy to be normal, and it’s the final red flag the goes off in your head to piece everything together.

Someone’s broken into the damn ship.

Someone got past all the security. Someone got past all three of your crew members. And now, that someone is coming to get you as well.

Thanking the stars that you chose not to wear any shoes, you slip down the hallway away from the voice, your feet barely making a sound as you do. The ship has multiple small closets scattered about for storage, and even if they’re not meant for it they’ll make a wonderful hiding spot. You could fight, sure, but you don’t have your blaster and who knows what this man can do. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll also give you time to figure out a plan.

Sliding your hand against the walls as you walk, you try not to panic as you hear heavy footsteps approaching the bunk area. It takes everything in you not to gasp in relief as you arrive at the closet, turning the handle as slowly as possible. Just as you slip in, the voice calls out again.

“I know you’re around here somewhere, little girl. If you come out, I won’t hurt you too bad. If you keep hiding, well…” It’s gross how it’s strangely soft, almost teasing in nature, but the sinister tone doesn’t escape you. The closet is pitch black, a mind is cute amount of light coming through the cracks from the hallway.

Had the others got away? Had they been captured? Are they alright? Too many questions race through your mind as you hold your breath, the footsteps outside of the door echoing like space storm. You hear doors open and close, the man checking each of your rooms to see if anyone’s around. Maybe being thrown out of your bed was a blessing in disguise.

Blessings don’t last forever though. They never do. No, not for you.

“_____, you need to fucking hide right this very instant, fucking Bangtan of all people are-“ The panicked voice of Yoongi cracks through your communicator and then abruptly cuts off. Bangtan…? Fuck. Fuck. The footsteps have stopped and everything is silent before you burst out of the closet in a sad attempt to save yourself. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, an apparent member of fucking Bangtan, as you sprint out. He’s tall and dressed in black, body covered head to toe in it, gun held easily at his side. A fucking nightmare walking.

“AH, there you are!” The footsteps are thunderous again, loud as he chases you down, your thoughts much too scattered to come up with a solid escape plan. A scream bubbles in your throat just as you try to round the corner at the end of the hall which quickly turns into a choked sound as he slams his body into yours, effectively smooshing you between the wall and himself. You swear you hear something crack and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was one or six of your ribs.

Struggling against him as his hand wraps tightly around your wrists, you whine as he draws in closer, your cheek smashed into the wall. Trying to kick back is futile, his own legs locking your into place as you buck back against him which makes him fucking laugh. It’s only when you feel the cold tip of his gun caress your temple that you finally stop struggling. You’ve been bested. Fuck.

“Caught you.”

[sailor--v]

Hiiiii

I updated late because mental health sucks.

LOVE SONGS FROM PLUTO

NamGiSeok VMin JinKook

🪐Chapter 4: 7234 words 🪐Aliens Au 🪐Poet!Namjoon owns a record store 🪐Non-linear narrative and copious pining Happy endings aren't impossible, but sometimes they are so far away it's easy to lose sight of hope. Namjoon knows he should be grateful for how far they've come, but moving forward means having to confront the mistakes he's made along the way. Hopefully, it's not to late. If you like aliens, music, found family, and Namjoon being too in his head, don't forget to tune in!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60663871/chapters/156393859

[hritika13-tamboli]

Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 1...

°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°`☆`°

Series :

Lone blue egg || Penguin Hybrid Jungkook x Bird Female OC | Hybrid au || @foxymoxynoona

Summary : Jungkook is a simple man. He goes to work, he hangs out with friends, he worries about finding a mate to take home for his hometown breeding season. Maybe he spends a little more money on cam girls than is fiscally responsible but he has niche tastes. Maybe he feels a bit adrift, but he's a young penguin hybrid, supposedly in his prime, far from his crèche. At least he's good at one thing: taking care of his precious egg. A comfort egg, not a real egg, he's not a real penguin, just a man with penguin DNA and behavioral tendencies. Just like Yoongi isn't actually an owl, even if he does stay up all night and sometimes hoot to fuck with their roommates. But this is a real love story, even if a slightly odd one.

Summer Nights || Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N | Hybrid au || @marginalmadness

Summary : A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Evocation || Dragon!Jungkook x human?Reader | Hybrid au || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

4-7-8 || Jungkook x reader | marriage au || @jiminrings

Summary : you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you. alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Love sewn || Jungkook x reader | boy next door au || @jvnghxope

Summary : You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

Sweet tooth || Rottweiler hybrid!Jungkook x Cat hybrid!Reader | Hybridau || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Yoongi and Jimin are each proud owners of hybrids, and these days, slowly falling in love with one another. And everything could be so perfect- if it wasn't for you absolutely resenting Jungkook- for no reason?

Alpha jeon || Jungkook x reader | werewolf au || @pbandjk

Summary: You’ve been raised to be a Luna since you were born. You’ve always had an idea of how your future would be, there was little room to imagine anything different. You’d meet your mate and fall madly in love, and the two of you would take over for your parents once they got older. But what happens when a certain wolf comes in and throws all of your plans on their head?

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane || Jungkook x reader | college au || @taexual

 Summary : jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

Please love me || Jungkook x reader | childhood friends au | arrange marriage au || @ahundredtimesover

Summary : As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Rattled || Jungkook x reader | guy next door au | single dad au || @gukslut

Summary : "Jeongguk?" His chin quivers and he bites at his bottom lip, clenching his jaw as his eyes flood with tears, meeting Jin's questioning gaze as he collapses against Jin's broad shoulder, sobbing. Jeongguk struggles to make words come out of his mouth.Jin holds him tightly, not speaking, just waiting, trying to put the mess of puzzle pieces together in a way that might make sense. Finally, Jeongguk sucks in a heaving breath."I had a baby," he sputters out. "That's my baby.""I didn't know this baby existed eight hours ago," he chokes out, sniffling.

Lacrymaria olor || Alien!King!Jungkook x Human!Reader | alien au || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : In which you've survived on this foreign planet for more than two years until you're caught and brought to the King, who will decide your fate.

Bitchin || fratboy!jungkook x reader | 1980s au || @kinktae

Summary : The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

Under your skin || tattoist!jk x fem!reader | tattoo au || @armpirate

Summary : You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Unstable || Alien!Jungkook x Human!Reader | dystopian AU || @bonny-kookoo

Summary : Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. And yet, maybe it's not as bad as you thought.

☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆●●☆

One-shot :

Idealizations concerning real life relations || jungkook x reader | fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc | fwb au || @venusiangguk

Summary : jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

Night After Night || Fuckboy bf! Jungkook x Reader | Established relationship au || @brown-bi-beautiful

Summary : "Show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is".... You broke up with your boyfriend because he couldn't let go of his fuckboy antiques now he's gonna win you back whatever it takes.

If i told you || two-shots | Jungkook x reader | friends to lovers!au | college!au || @gukyi

Summary : in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

Scattered stars || two-shots | Jungkook x reader soulmate!au | fantasy!au || @taegularities

Summary : “And with that, a picture of Jungkook flashed into your mind, his fingertips caressing your cheek and his gentle and affectionate smile sending shivers down your spine as you admitted to yourself that yes - you wanted him.“

Welcome to the heartbreak show || kind-of-tsundere!jungkook x female!reader | college au || @numinousher

Summary : you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?

In which she's done with him || Jerk jungkook x reader | unrequited love || @minstrivia

Summary : Jungkook angst/fluff where he always pushes oc away (who confesses her feelings but was cruelly rejected) and insults her but she always comes back to take care of him when he’s drunk or picks him up from his one night stands and she finally decides to leave him alone !! happy ending!

Angel in the marble || michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au || @venusjeon

Summary : after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

i can't wait to tell you, "i told ya'." || Single dad Jungkook x reader | Best friend au || @serendipitous-seven

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a successful realtor with a big house, a nice car, colorful dating life, and a spunky 7-year-old daughter to boot…he’s also your best friend who you used to be in love with. Of course, he was never made aware because you swear it’s all in the past…until it isn’t. But going on a cruise with Jungkook and his daughter whom you adore should be harmless. Absolutely nothing can go wrong…Right?

Los Angeles Laker || nba player jungkook x reader | nba au || @xpeachesncream

Summery : being one of the most popular players in the nba, jungkook takes absolutely no shit from anybody. he could give a fuck about the press, what people think about him, serious relationships. it’s a personal hell getting wrapped up with jeon jungkook— and you can’t help but fall into the same trap as every other woman who crosses paths with him. the more you fall, the more you realize that you will never be able to change a man who doesn’t want to change his ways.

[jiminrings]

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

.

.

.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice,  a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.” 

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him. 

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ ) 

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent. 

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time. 

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

.

.

.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in. 

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ ) 

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat. 

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?” 

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

[livingformintyoongi]

The Neonix Chronicles

Summary: A group of six people finds themselves in a huge problem after a giant whale-shaped ship took them against their will. The seven individuals are confronted with a new reality that hits them all at once; there is life on other planets, there’s too much life, and there are too many planets, and none of their inhabitants seem to have a good relationship with humans, or at least that’s what they thought when they saw themselves thrown into some kind of cage in the middle of a rundown market, where any… living being seemed able to take you in exchange for a couple of coins.

Part I: Chasing the Whale | Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Alien!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Summary: You were never the kind of person who believed in beings from beyond or intelligent life outside your planet; you were a down-to-earth person, the type who believed in the ideology of "seeing is believing." This is how you had lived almost 29 years of your life—until now.

How were you supposed to explain the fact that a flying ship, shaped like a whale, had just taken your twin brother right in front of your eyes? What were you supposed to do in a situation like this?

Even with the fear of your brother being in danger, and the possibility that the police would send you to a psychiatric ward for explaining the situation when asking for help, you decided to do the first thing that came to your mind: let them take you to their planet.

Moodboard.

Masterlist.

[thegabbyh]

This is my new obsession and it's PERFECT.

I NEED MORE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

The Alien Garden Series

A dying planet reaches out to save her soil from infertility. Straws are drawn and seven men accept the burden to take care of the planet’s soil and in return, the planet provides them with mates. Old tales indicate that seven women were to arrive and fulfil the ache in their hearts for eternity. 

Check out the Garden Of Pink, Red, Blue, Yellow, Purple, Green and White Petals.

[ Current Soulmate Count On Planet Trebis (2) ]

Enter Cherry Blossom Garden l First Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Taehyung’s Story (5,8k)

„The black soil leaves a dark trail on your thigh, the tiny little particles of the earth glide along your skin leaving a wet feeling behind. There’s a heat seeping through your skin from where a large hand maps out your nude legs, ending in long fingers and blunt fingernails.”

Enter Rose Garden l Second Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Jungkook’s story (5,5k)

„A sweet smell lingers in the air something flowery that reminds you of a sweet childhood memory. Your eyes fly open on reflex as you try to take in your unfamiliar surroundings, your nose more awake than your droopy eyes.”

Enter Sunflower Garden l Third Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Hoseok’s Story (4k) Coming Soon!

„Sunflowers are quite the sight. Even more, seeing an entire meadow of them. A man prettier than any flower standing in the middle. Pretty petals marking the skin of his cheeks and neckline like fine jewellery blemishing his healthy tanned skin with blurred colours of yellow. You’ve never seen a prettier man before sniffing greenery so picturesquely in the middle of this too good to be true dream.”

Enter Aloe Vera Garden l Fourth Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Namjoon’s Story (?k)

„Coming Soon.”

Enter Chamomile Garden l Fifth Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Yoongi’s Story (?k)

„Coming Soon.”

Enter Lavender Garden l Sixth Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Seokjin’s Story (?k)

„Coming Soon.”

Enter Hydrangea Garden l Seventh Instalment of ’The Alien Garden Series’ Jimin’s Story (?k)

„Coming Soon.”

[chimcess]

⮞ Chapter Two: Last Exodus Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x OC) Other Tags: Convict!Jungkook, Escaped Prisoner!Jungkook, Piolet!Reader, Captain!Reader, Holyman!Namjoon Genre: Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure, Thriller, Suspense, Strangers to Enemies to ???, Slow Burn, LOTS of Angst, Light Fluff, Eventual Smut, Third Person POV, 18+ Only Word Count: 18.9k+ Summary: When a deep space transporter crash-lands on a barren planet illuminated by three relentless suns, survival becomes the only priority for the stranded passengers, including resourceful pilot Y/N Y/L/N, mystic Namjoon Kim, lawman Taemin Lee, and enigmatic convict Jungkook Jeon. As they scour the hostile terrain for supplies and a way to escape, Y/N uncovers a terrifying truth: every 22 years, the planet is plunged into total darkness during an eclipse, awakening swarms of ravenous, flesh-eating creatures. Forced into a fragile alliance, the survivors must face not only the deadly predators but also their own mistrust and secrets. For Y/N, the growing tension with Jungkook—both a threat and a reluctant ally—raises the stakes even higher, as the battle to escape becomes one for survival against the darkness both around them and within themselves. Warnings: Strong Language, Side Character Death, Main Character Death, Aliens, Vicious Carnivorous Aliens, Violence, Blood, Jungkook is a huge prick, Cocky too, Talks About Past Characters Dying, Trauma Bonding, Bickering, Arguing, If Kook is a prick then Lee is a dick, Child Death, Graphic Death Scenes, Sexual Tension, Y/N is just trying her best, Jaded Characters, Religious Themes (I mean no harm and do not want to offend anyone), Bad Character Choices, Peter is Iconic (and a dumb ass), Surviving, Sexual Tension, Alcohol Consumption, Aliens killing more people, SUSPENSE, ANGST, Lee is genuinely the WORST person here, and he's in competition with a murderer so, I love how much of a jerk JK is, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: We are so back. I love writing high fantasy/sci-fi and this has been a treat for me. I hope you're enjoying everything so far! Thanks so much for taking the time out of your day to read my too-much gene come to life.

prev || masterlist || next

The group moved across the barren landscape, their figures cutting stark silhouettes against the twin suns. Heat shimmered off the cracked earth, warping the horizon into something dreamlike, something deceptive.

Y/N led the way, her stride relentless, her jaw tight. She wasn’t in the mood for theories. She wanted proof. Hard, undeniable proof.

Lee followed, a few paces behind, his shotgun slung over his shoulder in that lazy way of his. But his glances—sharp, quick, too frequent— betrayed his nerves.

“I know what happened,” Lee said, his voice dripping with cynicism. “He snapped. Went off on Daku. Buried him somewhere else. Now he’s sitting back, watching us run in circles like idiots.”

“Let’s just be sure,” Y/N cut in, her tone sharp as a blade.

Lee scoffed. “I am sure.” He picked up his pace until he was walking beside her. “Murders aside, Jungkook’s got one skill—being a world-class bastard. He lives for this. Keeping you scared. Keeping you guessing. And you’re playing right into—”

Y/N stopped so abruptly, Lee nearly walked into her.

“We’re gonna find the body,” she snapped, turning to face him, her eyes burning with resolve. “Christ, you’re a cop. Why am I the one telling you this?” She exhaled sharply. “We have to go down and look.”

Lee’s smirk faltered. For the first time, she saw something almost like concern in his face.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his voice. He reached for her arm, gripping it just enough to make her stop. “Being ballsy with your life now doesn’t change what came before. It’s just stupid.”

Y/N met his eyes, her gaze unwavering. “Thanks for the tip, Lee,” she said coolly, shaking off his grip. “Now get out of my way.”

He let her go.

The grave gaped open, its jagged edges crumbling slightly as she approached. A damp, metallic tang seeped from the darkness below, curling in the back of her throat.

Y/N knelt, fastening the chain to her web belt, testing the tension. Above her, the others formed a loose circle, their faces pinched with concern.

She looked up one last time.

The sunlight behind them cast them in silhouette, but the brightness felt wrong. Oppressive. A silent warning.

Y/N exhaled sharply and lowered herself into the pit.

The grave swallowed her whole.

The air inside was thick, moist, pressing against her skin like a second layer of flesh. The heat above was suffocating, but this? This was worse.

Darkness closed in, broken only by the faint light filtering from above. Y/N adjusted her grip on the chain, her breath steady but shallow. Her boots scuffed against the tunnel floor, loose dirt shifting beneath her.

Her fingers brushed the walls.

She yanked her hand back.

The lining of the tunnel wasn’t just earth. It was fibrous, damp— something between plant matter and flesh.

Her stomach turned, but she pressed forward.

Jungkook was probably sitting back in the ship, laughing his ass off, knowing he’d manipulated her into crawling into this.

The thought lasted right up until she entered a chamber.

The space yawned open, a vaulted cavern stretching high above her. Light seeped through fissures in the rock, not illuminating, but distorting. The shadows moved.

Something shifted along the walls.

Y/N went still.

She knelt, sweeping her hand through the dirt. Something cold met her fingertips.

Daku’s handlight.

It was half-buried, scratched and smeared. She flicked the switch. Nothing. Broken. Like everything else.

She tossed it aside, adjusting her headlamp. The beam cut through the gloom, revealing more of the chamber’s unnatural structure.

Then, she saw them.

Bones.

Old, yellowed, cracked and splintered. They littered the chamber floor, scattered like discarded leftovers. Some were hollowed out. Others bore deep grooves—teeth marks.

Y/N’s stomach lurched.

The walls of the cavern twisted upward, forming a jagged funnel stretching toward the surface. The spires.

She whispered, almost in awe: “They’re hollow.”

The realization barely settled before she heard it.

Click-click.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Click-click-click.

Her headlamp swung toward the sound, the beam trembling slightly. Something moved.

Just beyond the light.

A shadow unfurled, slow and deliberate.

Cold, primal fear rushed through her veins. She started backing up—slow, measured steps.

Her hand brushed against something solid.

A boot.

Relief surged—until she looked. Daku’s boot. And part of him was still inside it.

Her mind snapped into perfect clarity.

Jungkook’s voice, amused, mocking—"Metallic taste, you know. Copper. Bit of peppermint schnapps.”

The air was thick with it. The smell. The taste. Her stomach flipped.

Clickity-clickity-clickity.

The sound multiplied. From everywhere. A cacophony of tiny knives tapping against stone. The shadows burst into motion. The walls moved. The entire chamber pulsed.

The chain jerked.

Y/N wasn’t alone.

She turned to run.

The sound multiplied, filling the chamber like a cacophony of tiny knives tapping against stone.

Click-click. Click-click-click.

Fast. Too fast. Shadows burst into motion, circling the perimeter with quick, predatory movements. The air thickened, a buzzing hum vibrating through the cavern like the thrumming of unseen wings.

Y/N’s breath came in short, ragged bursts. She had seconds. Maybe less.

She spun, her headlamp swinging wildly, but the shadows only taunted her, slithering just beyond the reach of her light.

Then, the ground moved beneath her. No—it wasn’t the ground. The bones. They were shifting. Something was underneath them. Something big. The first claw burst from the pile of remains like a blade through soft flesh.

Y/N didn’t scream. Not yet. Not until she saw the eyes.

A dozen pairs, glowing like smoldering embers, blinking in unison from the darkness.

Then she screamed.

"PULL ME UP!"

Her voice ripped through the cavern, raw and desperate, bouncing off the walls in an echo that seemed to stretch too long.

The chain jerked above her, but it wasn’t moving fast enough.

They were coming.

Click-click-click.

Shadows poured from the walls.  Tiny, winged things, their translucent bodies sleek and armored, their razor-thin mandibles snapping open and shut. And they were fast.

Y/N kicked back, scrambling to reach the chain as one of the creatures dove for her.

Too late.

A flash of pale wings. A piercing pain exploded in her arm, right above her elbow. Its jaws sank in. Y/N screamed again, more anger than fear this time, and ripped the thing away. It took flesh with it. Hot, wet blood slid down her arm.

She barely registered the pain before another one latched onto her calf.

No. No. No.

She reached for her knife, but the chain yanked upward, nearly dislocating her shoulder. They were pulling her up. She slashed wildly, her blade connecting with something soft, and the creature on her leg let go. She didn’t look down. She couldn’t.

She was almost there—

Something hissed below her. A deep, guttural sound, too big to belong to the flying things.

Oh, God.

The eyes in the dark blinked again. And then they moved.

Y/N felt it in her bones before she saw it—the heaving shift of something massive, something crawling toward her, something not supposed to exist.

The air turned putrid, thick with the smell of rot and metal. The thing in the dark exhaled, and the cavern walls trembled. It was rising. Coming for her.

"FASTER!"

Her scream hit the surface before she did.

She burst from the grave, thrown onto the dirt like a fish yanked from black water. The hands that caught her weren’t gentle. Namjoon and Lee hauled her back, her body skidding across the packed earth, her lungs fighting for air.

Her ears were ringing. She was shaking. But she was out.

She grabbed Namjoon’s collar, pulling him close, her voice a broken rasp:

"Seal it. Now."

Lee didn’t argue. He threw the tarp over the grave, slammed the largest crates on top, his hands moving like he already knew what was coming.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she twisted, her headlamp still on. For a split second, she saw it. A flash of something huge, slick, white. Jaws full of too many teeth. Pale wings.

And then the cavern swallowed itself whole. The sound vanished. The ground stilled. Silence. Just the wind, blowing soft, unbothered, as if the world beneath them hadn’t just tried to devour her whole.

Y/N lay sprawled in the dirt, her chest heaving, lungs raw from screaming, her body still vibrating from the adrenaline dump. Every nerve felt fried, every muscle quivering as if trying to shake loose from her bones. Her heart pounded against her ribs, hard enough that she half-expected it to break through. The taste of copper and sweat coated her tongue, and when she swallowed, it burned like she’d just drunk fire.

Above her, the sky stretched in an endless, indifferent expanse, the twin suns beginning their slow descent. The heat still pressed down on her, but she barely noticed it. Not after that.

Not after what she had seen.

Namjoon was the first to move. He dropped to his knees beside her, his breath ragged but steady, his hands hovering over her shoulders as if unsure whether to touch her or just make sure she was still breathing. His dark eyes, usually so measured, so careful, were wide with a fear he hadn’t quite shaken.

"You're okay," he said, though his voice wavered slightly. It wasn’t reassuring—it was a hopeful guess.

Y/N blinked up at him, her vision unfocused, her brain still clawing its way back to reality. The world was spinning slightly, a delayed aftershock of fear and exhaustion.

"Am I?" she rasped. Her voice barely made it past her cracked lips.

Namjoon didn’t answer.

The weight of what had just happened hung thick in the air, suffocating them both.

A few feet away, Lee crouched, his shotgun resting across his lap. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found. His knuckles were white around the stock of his weapon, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctant fear.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His gaze flickered toward the grave, still gaping, its jagged edges casting fractured shadows in the fading light.

Y/N shuddered.

It wasn’t just a grave anymore. It was a door. To what, she didn’t know. But something had been waiting behind it. Something that had taken Daku.

"It wasn’t Jungkook," she said suddenly, her voice shaking but firm. She forced herself upright, her body protesting the movement. Every inch of her screamed hurt, but she pushed through it.

Lee’s eyes snapped to her, sharp and skeptical.

"Oh yeah?" he drawled. "Then what was it?"

The words felt poisonous in her throat, but she had to say them.

"I don’t know."

Bindi stepped forward, her face pale, her arms trembling at her sides. The way her hands clenched and unclenched told Y/N she was barely holding it together.

"Then where is he?" Bindi demanded, her voice cracking. "Where’s Daku?"

Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to admit what she’d seen—or rather, what she hadn’t.

The clicking sounds. The inhuman movements. The way the shadows had crawled across the walls like they were alive. She could still feel it, still hear the whispering hush of brittle wings against the cavern walls.

Her throat tightened. Her hands felt empty without her knife.

"I don’t know," she whispered, hating the way her voice broke. "It’s not... It’s not human. It’s something else."

Bindi's hands flew to her mouth, a muffled sob escaping. Namjoon stepped in beside her, murmuring something too soft to hear, but it didn’t seem to help. Bindi shook her head, tears carving streaks through the grime on her face.

"Something else," Lee echoed. Disbelieving. Not quite mocking, but close. He stood, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder in one smooth motion. "Great. That’s helpful."

Y/N’s fear flashed into anger.

"It got Daku," she snapped, her voice hoarse, raw. "It almost got me. So unless you want to end up in pieces like he did, maybe don’t go poking at it."

Lee's eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. For once, he had nothing to say.

Namjoon broke the silence, his voice calm but firm, "We need to get out of here. Back to the ship. Now."

Bindi looked like she wanted to argue, her grief twisting into defiance, but she caught something in Namjoon’s expression.

He wasn’t suggesting—he was commanding.

She nodded, reluctantly, wiping her tears away with shaking hands. Y/N cast one last glance at the grave, its dark, gaping mouth now a silent reminder of the nightmare beneath.

Then—

A sound. Faint. Almost like a whisper through the earth.

Click-click-click.

Y/N’s stomach lurched.

She took a step back, but the sound was already gone. Had it even been there? Or had she imagined it?

The others were already moving. She followed.

The suns had dipped lower, the sky bleeding into shades of red and deep gold. The air cooled, but Y/N could still feel the heat clinging to her skin, mixing with the sweat drying against her back. Every step felt wrong. Like something was watching. 

No one spoke. Not Bindi. Not Lee. Even Namjoon, the one who always had a plan, a course of action, was silent. Y/N clenched her fists, the dirt beneath her nails grounding her.

She focused on that. The pressure of her own fingers digging into her palms. The rhythm of her boots hitting the dirt. The distant hum of the wind shifting across the landscape.

It wasn’t enough.

The questions swirled, relentless, circling her like scavengers. What had she seen? What had she barely escaped? And, most terrifying of all—

Was it done with them yet?

The settlement roiled with motion, a frantic, desperate energy thrumming through the air. Voices clashed, rising sharp and panicked over the clatter of salvaged supplies. Hands seized anything and everything—scraps that once held no value now deemed indispensable. Oxygen canisters. Bottles of liquor. An umbrella missing half its ribs. A battered copy of the Koran, its pages thin and worn from time and touch, was bundled up with the same reverence as a lifeline.

Leo hesitated, breath caught in his throat as his gaze drifted to the hills. There was something about the way the light slanted against them. Something wrong. The jagged spires stretched high, their peaks curling like skeletal fingers grasping at the last embers of the sun. Shadows twisted at their base, too deep, too consuming, like the land itself was caving inward. His skin prickled. He couldn’t shake the sensation that those hills were watching him back.

“Keep moving, kid!”

Bindi’s voice cut through the air, snapping him out of it. She was already straining under the weight of a supply crate, sweat streaking through the dust caked on her face.

Leo gave a quick nod, swallowing the unease as he bent to grab another bundle. The ship was nearly stripped bare.

Y/N and Namjoon wrestled with a heavy power cell, their bodies straining as they fought against rusted bolts and time itself. The thing gave way with a violent lurch, sending them both stumbling as it crashed onto the deck with a deafening clang. The sound echoed, hollow and final, through the gutted remains of the ship.

Namjoon straightened first, rolling his shoulders, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead. Sweat and grease smeared over his temple, but his eyes were already locked on the single cell they’d managed to pull free.

“That’s it?” His voice was edged with doubt.

“For now.” Y/N exhaled sharply, though exhaustion seeped into her words.

They needed at least two. Three, if they wanted any chance beyond sheer dumb luck. But time was a currency they no longer had. She pressed her hands into the small of her back, stretching against the deep-set ache in her spine. Her gaze flickered past Namjoon, past the ship, toward the horizon.

The feeling was there again. A slow, crawling awareness, like something was pressing against the edges of her mind, watching, waiting.

“We don’t have time to get picky.” Her voice was quieter now, more to herself than to him. “We survive on this.”

Namjoon studied her for a beat, something unreadable flickering across his face before he nodded. That was the thing about them—words weren’t always necessary. The understanding was silent, steady. They’d figure it out. They always did.

Together, they hefted the power cell onto a sled, their movements mechanical, efficient, but tense.

The spires loomed in the distance. Silent. Motionless. But not empty.

Their long shadows crawled over the barren land, their peaks carved black against the burnt-orange sky. A presence hummed in the air, thick and suffocating, like the land itself was bracing. Y/N felt it settle deep in her gut, a sick, gnawing certainty—

They weren’t the only ones preparing.

The chains rattled, a dull metallic whisper swallowed by the dry wind. Jungkook sat still, slumped just enough to feign exhaustion, his wrists resting limply in his lap. The angry red welts beneath the iron stood out against his sweat-slicked skin, but his posture was loose, deceptively relaxed. His hair, damp and tangled, hung in front of his face, masking his expression. He wasn’t broken. He wasn’t even tired.

He was waiting.

The sun baked the cracked dirt beneath him, heat rising in shimmering waves, but he remained unmoved, the picture of effortless patience. He had all the time in the world.

A shadow loomed. He didn’t bother looking up.

"Found something worse than me, huh?” His voice, rough from disuse, carried a dry amusement, the kind that slithered under the skin, just sharp enough to make you second-guess whether he was joking or simply waiting for the moment to rip you apart.

Lee stepped closer, shotgun cradled against his chest, grip deceptively casual. But Jungkook saw the tension, the twitch in his fingers against the stock, the weight of unspoken violence hovering between them.

“We’re moving,” Lee said, as if that explained anything. "And I’m just wondering if I shouldn’t lighten the load right now.”

Jungkook finally tilted his head up, dark eyes gleaming behind the fractured glass of his goggles. His lips curled, slow and measured, into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

The air thickened, the kind of silence that pressed against the ribs, waiting for the inevitable snap.

The shotgun rose.

The hammer cocked.

From the corner of his vision, Y/N tensed, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t interfere. Not yet.

Jungkook’s smirk widened, sharp as a blade. “Woof, woof.”

The blast split the air.

Iron exploded, smoking fragments clattering across the dirt. The chains shattered.

Jungkook’s arms fell forward, unbound at last. He flexed his fingers, watching with quiet satisfaction as blood rushed back into them, warming flesh that had been starved of movement for far too long.

Lee leaned in, voice just above a whisper, breath hot against Jungkook’s ear. “Want you to remember this moment,” he murmured. “The way it could’ve gone—and didn’t.”

Jungkook turned his head, slow, deliberate, his grin curling at the edges. He liked this game.

“Say that again,” he murmured, soft, almost coaxing, but his gaze was a different story. There was nothing gentle in the way he looked at Lee. Nothing human.

Lee didn’t flinch. “Help us get off this rock,” he said, tightening his grip on the shotgun. “No chains. No shivs. You work with us, and we all get out of here alive.”

Jungkook arched a brow, considering. “And what’s in it for me?”

Lee’s jaw ticked. “Truth is, I want to be free of you as much as you want to be free of me. But right now?” He glanced at the wasteland stretching beyond them. “Neither of us has that option.”

Jungkook inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders now that he was unburdened. He weighed the odds, measured the numbers, calculated the likelihood of survival.

And then, just for a second, his eyes flickered to Y/N.

Not trust. Not exactly. But something close enough to make him hesitate.

The grin widened, razor-sharp. “You’d cut me loose, Boss?” he drawled, feigning mock disbelief.

Lee shrugged, extending a hand—not an offer, not a truce. Just an inevitability. “Only if we both get out of this alive.”

Jungkook stared at it. Nobody breathed.

Then, with the kind of speed that defied logic, he moved.

In one fluid motion, he ripped the shotgun from Lee’s grip, flipping it in his hands with a practiced ease that made it clear he could have done it blindfolded. The barrel swung up, aimed squarely at Lee’s chest.

Click.

The safety flicked off.

Jungkook’s smirk never wavered. “Want you to remember this moment,” he said, throwing Lee’s words back at him, reshaping them into something entirely his own.

He pumped the shotgun.

Ejected the spent shell.

Then—deliberately, almost lazily—he spat a handful of blue shells onto the ground at Lee’s feet.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the shotgun aside. It hit the dirt, useless, forgotten.

And then, without a word, he turned and walked away. Loose. Confident. Untouchable.

Like he’d never been shackled. Like he’d never been caught.

Y/N exhaled, pulse hammering in her throat.

She had been waiting for Jungkook to be released.

But watching him now, watching the way he moved—like nothing had changed, like he was just slipping back into the skin that had always been his—she realized something that made her stomach twist.

She trusted Jungkook more than she trusted Lee.

And that terrified her most of all.

The horizon was a violent masterpiece, an ever-shifting war of light painted by three merciless suns. The blue sun dipped lower, casting its eerie glow across the scorched desert, while the yellow and red giants stretched their fingers of fire over the barren wasteland. The sky bled color, deep purples and burnt golds tangled together in something both breathtaking and apocalyptic.

Against this surreal backdrop, the survivors pressed forward—a ragged procession of exhaustion and desperation, their hope worn thin, stretched past the point of breaking.

Y/N and Namjoon moved as one, their shoulders braced beneath the crushing weight of the power cell, their steps synchronized out of necessity rather than intent. Each footfall was a reminder of the stakes. There was no second plan. No backup. This was it. If they failed, the desert would take them, piece by piece.

But even their burden paled in comparison to the one Jungkook carried.

He was no longer the feral thing that had hunted them in the dark. No longer the prisoner bound in chains. Now, he was something in between, something undefined, something dangerous in its own right. A beast of burden, pulling a makeshift sled behind him, piled high with scavenged supplies, jury-rigged tech, and the last scraps of survival they had left. His chains were gone, but freedom—true freedom—was an illusion. The weight on his shoulders hadn’t lessened. It had simply changed shape.

Trailing alongside Lee, Peter tilted the neck of a half-empty wine bottle toward Jungkook, his expression laced with disbelief and something dangerously close to amusement.

“So, just like that?” he drawled. “You wave your little wand, and he’s one of us now?”

Lee snorted, shotgun slung casually over one shoulder, but the way his fingers flexed on the stock said he wasn’t relaxed. Not really.

“Didn’t say that,” Lee muttered. “But this way, I don’t have to worry about waking up with him standing over me with something sharp.”

Namjoon turned his head just enough to glance back, his voice measured, diplomatic. “Perhaps we owe Mr. Jungkook some amends.”

Bindi let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Right. Because now’s the perfect time for an apology tour. Let’s all line up and beg for forgiveness. That’ll fix everything.”

“At the very least,” Namjoon insisted, “he should have oxygen.”

Lee waved a dismissive hand. “He’s happy just being vertical. Leave him be.”

Behind them, Leo shifted hesitantly before speaking, his voice tentative. “So… can I talk to him now?”

“No,” Lee and Bindi snapped in unison.

Leo deflated immediately, shrinking back in silence, eyes dropping to the ground.

Peter, unfazed by the tension, let the wine bottle slip from his fingers, watching as it tumbled toward the dirt.

Jungkook caught it mid-stride, smooth as a pickpocket, never breaking pace.

Peter didn’t notice until it was too late. “Hey—”

Jungkook twisted the cap off in one effortless flick and took a slow, deliberate sip, his head tilting back just enough to make a point. He handed the bottle back without a glance, without a word, without even acknowledging Peter’s indignation.

Peter gaped, then swore under his breath. “If I owned Hell and this planet, I’d rent this out and live in Hell.”

The ground beneath them shifted, narrowing into a canyon, jagged spires of rock rising around them. The golden light caught the edges, casting long, uneven shadows like serrated teeth lining the pathway.

The silence thickened.

Y/N felt it first.

A ripple in the air. The electric prickle of something shifting just out of reach.

Clickity-click.

The sound was faint, barely there.

“What is it?” Namjoon asked, his voice low.

Y/N’s eyes swept the canyon walls, her breath shallow as she strained to hear it again.

Silence.

Then—

Clickity-click-click.

Closer this time.

Her stomach dropped. Her hand shot to her knife, fingers curling around the hilt.

The sound came again, to her right.

Click-click-clickity.

It was coming from—

She exhaled sharply, shoulders loosening as she rolled her eyes, tension bleeding from her body.

“It’s his beads,” she muttered, flicking her chin toward Yeonjun’s belt.

The prayer beads clacked softly as he walked, oblivious to the panic they’d caused.

Namjoon let out a slow breath, shaking his head. Lee smirked, tossing her a knowing look. “Jumpin’ at shadows already, princess?”

Y/N ignored him.

She wasn’t jumping at shadows.

She was jumping at what lived in them.

The suns bled into the horizon, dragging streaks of orange and violet through the sky as the settlement came into view. The ruins sprawled before them—rusted shipping containers, skeletal structures collapsed under years of neglect, the remnants of a place that had long since lost the battle against the elements.

Peter wrinkled his nose, eyes sweeping over the decay with unimpressed detachment. “Usually, I can appreciate antiques,” he mused. “But this is hardly a collector’s dream.”

Y/N ignored him. Her gaze locked onto the skiff. Their way out.

The wreck sat hunched on its battered landing struts, its fabric wings in tatters, its hull pitted with corrosion. It looked more corpse than vehicle, and yet, it was their last chance. She and Namjoon muscled the power cell toward it, their grunts of exertion the only sound in the hush of the dying settlement.

Lee circled the skiff, his scowl deepening. “Ratty-ass thing.” He gave one of its struts a sharp kick, as if that would somehow restore it to working order.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” Y/N ground out, angling the cell into place. “So long as the electrical adapts.”

Bindi crossed her arms, skeptical. “Not a star-jumper. Won’t get us far.”

Jungkook had been silent until now, leaning against a rusted container, arms folded, watching. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Too calm.

“Doesn’t need to be.”

The group turned to him.

His expression didn’t shift, but there was something in his gaze—calculated, knowing. Like he’d already mapped their escape before they even set foot in this place.

“We use this to get back up to the Sol-Track Shipping Lanes,” he said. “Stick out a thumb.” Then, after a beat, he glanced at Y/N, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Right?”

She hesitated. His reasoning was sound. That didn’t mean she trusted him.

Her gaze flicked to Lee.

A convict. A cop.

And somehow, she trusted one more than the other.

“Little help here?” she snapped, shattering the moment.

Together, they shoved the power cell into the skiff’s empty housing, the metal groaning under the weight. Jungkook moved to follow, but Lee stepped into his path.

“Check those containers,” Lee said, his voice clipped, his stance rigid. “See what we can patch the wings with.”

For a fraction of a second, something dark passed through Jungkook’s gaze. A flash of something that coiled beneath his skin like a wire pulled too tight.

But he didn’t argue.

Without a word, he turned and stalked toward the scattered remnants of the settlement.

The suns continued their descent, stretching long, jagged shadows across the ground.

And somewhere, deep in the canyon beyond, something clicked.

The settlement stirred, the quiet murmur of movement threading through the thickening twilight. The survivors worked with purpose, though the weight of the unknown pressed against them like an iron yoke.

At the edge of the ruins, the Chrislams moved in solemn reverence, their hands steady, precise, as they repaired the moisture-recovery unit. Every twist of a wrench, every careful turn of a valve, was an offering. Their voices wove through the air in a soft, murmured hymn, a thread of devotion stitched into the fabric of the evening.

For them, this was not just survival.

It was proof.

That they had not been abandoned.

That this planet had not swallowed them whole.

The power cell clicked into place with a sharp, mechanical snap. A low hum pulsed through the battered skiff, its ancient circuits shuddering back to life. The cockpit’s displays stuttered, blinking sluggishly as though dragging themselves out of a years-long coma. One by one, the dashboard lights steadied into a dim, uneven glow—proof that the thing wasn’t entirely dead yet.

Y/N wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing sweat and grime into a single, indistinguishable streak. “Okay,” she muttered, leaning back to inspect her work. “That should buy us enough juice for a systems check. But we’ll need more cells if we actually want to get this thing off the ground.”

Lee stood in the skiff’s doorway, shotgun slung over his back, his stance casual but his eyes never still, constantly scanning the dark corners of the settlement. He snorted. “How many more?”

Y/N ran the numbers, a rapid-fire equation of weight, energy output, and sheer impossible odds. “Fifteen six-gig cells here, ninety gigs total. The other ship uses twenty-gig cells, so…” She exhaled sharply, tapping her fingers against the hull, calculating. “Five. We need five more.”

Lee let out a slow, unimpressed whistle. “Twenty-five kilos each, huh?” His voice was dry, laced with something dangerously close to amusement. “Great. Let me guess—you want me to haul ‘em myself?”

Bindi scoffed, wiping her hands on her torn pants. She jerked her chin toward the rusting skeleton of a sand-cat vehicle half-buried at the edge of the settlement. The sun had bleached its frame white, but the treads and chassis still looked intact.

“Old sand-cat out there might still have some life in her,” she said. “I’ll see if I can get it up and chuggin’.”

Lee gave a curt nod. “Do it. And if you need an extra hand, tap our problem child.”

Y/N barely looked up from the power cell’s console. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Lee shrugged. “No clue. Doesn’t matter to me.”

Jungkook moved through the dead town like a shadow, his stride unhurried, his presence an unwelcome interruption in the unnatural silence.

The settlement was a graveyard. A place abandoned in a hurry.

Overturned chairs, scattered belongings, rusted-out tools lying in the dirt where hands had once gripped them with purpose. Dead gardens, their vines clawing through cracked pavement, creeping back over what had been taken from them.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It was full.

Full of whispers. Of memories. Of lives that had been lived and then erased, leaving nothing but footprints fading beneath the shifting dust.

Behind him, Leo and Soobin trailed at a careful distance, their movements hesitant, their curiosity gnawing at them like hungry animals. They whispered—low, uncertain—but Jungkook didn’t acknowledge them. If he heard, he gave no sign.

At the far edge of the settlement, the Chrislams gathered around the moisture-recovery unit, their faces tight with something between anticipation and disbelief.

A single bead of water formed at the base of the pipette, clinging for a moment before finally dropping into the waiting cup below.

Tongues fought for it.

Another drop. Then another.

A slow, uneven trickle began, and a breathless murmur rippled through the gathered crowd.

Not a celebration.

A prayer answered.

A few meters away, Peter was humming. Some jaunty, ridiculous tune that felt wholly out of place in the crumbling remains of the world. His fingers moved carefully, unwrapping crystal goblets—absurd in the face of their circumstances, but somehow perfectly in character. He had claimed a long, dust-covered refectory table, brushing off the grime and rearranging mining scraps into makeshift centerpieces.

He even found a faded Christmas garland tangled in an old storage container, shook off the dust, and strung it across the table with an unnecessary flourish.

“If we’re dying out here,” Peter mused, adjusting a vase filled with broken drill bits, “we might as well die with a bit of class.”

The bridge was unnervingly silent, the kind of quiet that felt like an inhale before a scream. Outside, chaos churned—voices rising, metal groaning, the slow unraveling of control—but in here, nothing moved. Nothing but her.

Y/N worked quickly, hands steady even as her mind spun. The main console’s housing face came loose with a soft, mechanical click, revealing the smooth crystal core of Captain Marshall’s log. It was nestled there like a relic, untouched, waiting.

She plucked it from its slot, the surface cool against her palm.

Then she turned it over, and her stomach twisted.

The blood was dried, flaked brown, but unmistakable. A smear of it streaked across her fingers, sinking into the lines of her skin like it belonged there.

Her breath hitched. “Fuck.”

The log disappeared into her back pocket, shoved deep, as if that could undo what she had seen. Her hand trembled. She scrubbed it against her thigh, hard enough to sting, but the stain remained. The more she rubbed, the more it felt like the blood was seeping inward, like it wasn’t just on her skin but under it.

A memory hit.

Red pooling across the dirt, too bright under the glare of the suns. The metallic tang of it thick in the air. The hole she had crawled into. The boot she had found there. Daku’s boot. He had been tall. Serious. Steadfast. And now? Now, he was nothing.

Just a smudge on her hand.

She didn’t hear Jungkook until he was right beside her. By then, it was too late to steel herself. He crouched in front of her, his shadow stretching long under the merciless light of the three suns. His movements were easy, unhurried, as if this brutal, dying world bent to his will.

“It won’t come off that easily.” His voice was quiet, edged with something unreadable—not a warning, not a threat, but something closer. Something dangerous in its softness.

Y/N’s head snapped up, her breath shallow. Their eyes met. For a second—just a second—she faltered.

Jungkook was always a storm, something violent waiting to happen. But in this moment, in the stifling heat and unnatural stillness, there was no trace of chaos in him. Just watchfulness. Just something steady, patient. Not just looking. Seeing. His hand reached for hers before she could react, fingers warm and sure as he turned her palm upward.

“Let go of my hand,” she snapped, yanking against his grip.

He didn’t.

His thumb traced over the dried blood, slow and deliberate, his brow furrowing slightly. His breath was even, unbothered, like he had all the time in the world to unravel her. Then, he blew across her palm, a whisper of air stirring the dust. Her fingers twitched before she could stop them. He noticed. Something flickered across his face—amusement, curiosity. Or maybe something else.

“It’s not yours.” His gaze lifted, sharp as a blade.

The words landed like a brand, sinking deep beneath her skin. Before she could jerk away, he licked his thumb and pressed it against the stain. Heat. A sudden, shocking warmth against her palm, slow and deliberate. Her pulse stuttered.

“Damn it, Jungkook,” she hissed. “Stop—”

His grin curled, wicked and unrepentant. “Relax.” His thumb moved in steady, patient strokes. “I’ll get it off.”

She wanted to shove him away. Wanted to snap, to curse, to remind him that he was insufferable, impossible, unbearable— but her body refused to listen. Because his touch wasn’t cruel. It was precise.

His thumb traced the lines of her palm, lingering over the tiny creases, his fingers moving with a familiarity that made her stomach twist. Around them, the camp hummed on—Namjoon’s low voice, Bindi’s grief-tinged frustration, the Chrislams murmuring over the water unit. But all of it felt distant. Because there was only this. Only him.

Jungkook’s smirk faded as his thumb stilled. His head tilted, his gaze sweeping over her face, searching. She looked different in this light—lips parted slightly, stray strands of hair curling against her temple, the sun catching gold in her lashes. And for the first time in a long time, he felt off-balance. Not in a fight. Not in a hunt. But here—with her. Unarmed. Vulnerable. And it made no damn sense.

“There.” His voice had gone quieter. “No more blood.”

The spell shattered. Y/N yanked her hand back like his touch had burned her. The loss of contact sent a jolt through her, sharp and immediate. Her fingers curled into a fist. Her pulse was too fast. Too loud.

“Fuck,” she muttered, voice tight, body tense with something she couldn’t name.

Jungkook rocked back on his heels, his smirk sliding back into place—but it was different now. A little too forced. A little too knowing.

“Bit public for my tastes,” he said smoothly. “But if you’re game—”

She shoved him. Hard.

He swayed, balance shifting for half a breath before he caught himself. For the briefest moment, she saw real surprise flicker in his expression—before he laughed. A rich, unbothered sound. Like he wasn’t fazed in the slightest. But something in his eyes had changed. Something raw. And neither of them knew what to do with it.

Y/N took a step back, still glaring, still trying to breathe normally.

Jungkook didn’t move. He just stood there, loose and unreadable, but his gaze wasn’t. And then he smirked. Not the usual lazy, cocky kind he wore like armor, but something slower, something that settled deep, like he had just seen something she hadn’t meant to show. Like he knew.

Y/N’s pulse slammed against her ribs. She clenched her jaw, willed herself to speak, to move, to do anything except stand there and let him see her like this. Jungkook stayed exactly where he was, hands easy at his sides, head tilted just enough to catch the light, casting sharp shadows along his jaw. The goggles hid his eyes, but she could feel them on her, cataloging every breath, every tiny shift in her stance.

It was infuriating.

The ship groaned, its metal bones adjusting to the temperature drop outside. Night was closing in, and with it, things they weren’t ready for. She should have walked away. Should have focused on the job, ignored the heat still crawling up her spine, the phantom weight of his touch lingering against her skin.

Instead—

“You’re an asshole.” The words tumbled out, sharp but breathless.

Jungkook chuckled, slow and lazy, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “And yet, here we are.”

Her fingers twitched. A reckless part of her wanted to swing, wipe that smugness clean off his face. But another part—one she refused to acknowledge—was still caught in the moment before, in the press of his thumb against her palm, in the softness of his voice when he had murmured no more blood.

She exhaled hard through her nose, forcing herself to let it go. “We need to finish the systems check,” she muttered, stepping past him, her shoulder barely grazing his as she moved.

Jungkook didn’t stop her.

But he didn’t step away, either.

Instead, just as she reached the console, his voice followed, a quiet hum beneath the ship’s reviving power. “You didn’t flinch.”

Her fingers hesitated over the controls.

His tone was unreadable, but something about it sent a slow chill through her. “What?”

“When I touched you.”

She turned, her glare sharp. “I told you to let go.”

He nodded, considering, then tilted his head, voice maddeningly calm. “Yeah. But you didn’t flinch.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Because he was right.

She had pulled away after, once her mind had caught up, once the moment had settled in. But in that instant? When his fingers had curled around hers, when his thumb had pressed slow and certain against her skin—

She hadn’t flinched.

And that unsettled her more than anything.

Jungkook knew it, too. It was written all over his face.

She turned back to the console, jaw tight, forcing herself to focus. Behind her, she heard the quiet rasp of his boots against the metal as he finally moved, finally put space between them.

But the weight of his presence lingered.

And she hated that she felt it.

“JUNGKOOK?”

The shout cut through the air.

Lee.

Sharp. Hunting. Demanding.

Jungkook’s expression shifted instantly. His shoulders tensed, that easy confidence sharpening into something colder, something lethal. Without hesitation, he pressed a finger to his lips—a silent command—before slipping into the ship’s shadows. Effortless. Like he’d never been there at all.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded once. Oddly, it felt natural to trust him in this. Even though she had no reason to. Even though she wasn’t sure she ever should.

Lee rounded the corner, his bloodshot eyes narrowing the second they landed on her. He looked wired, his movements too quick, his fingers twitching like they wanted to be wrapped around a trigger.

“You seen Jungkook?”

Y/N tilted her head, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. “He was around a few minutes ago.” Her voice was neutral, careful.

Lee squinted, eyes dragging over her a little too long. “What’re you doing just sitting out here in the hot sun?”

Y/N’s expression sharpened. “Enjoying the peace and quiet.”

The words were a warning. Lee either missed it or ignored it. Somewhere, hidden in the dark, Jungkook smirked. She wasn’t playing along. Not with Lee. But with him? With Jungkook? She already had. And neither of them knew how deep they’d fallen in already.

Jungkook, tucked just beyond sight, grinned. Lee was floundering, barely keeping up with the sharp barbs in Y/N’s voice. It was tempting to stay, to see just how thoroughly she would dismantle the man. She had a way of cutting straight through the bullshit, and Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching it.

But there were more pressing matters.

He slid his goggles up to his forehead, forcing himself to push thoughts of her aside. She had already distracted him enough, and he couldn’t afford to lose focus now. Something about this planet had been gnawing at him since they’d crashed.

It wasn’t just the oppressive brightness of the three suns, or the eerie silence that stretched between the gusts of wind. It was something deeper. Something wrong.

Jungkook scanned the horizon, wishing for the impossible. If the suns would just set, he could orient himself—trace the constellations, find a way off this rock. But that didn’t seem likely. Not here.

Instead, he turned his attention to the ground, to the faint clicking noises that had been scratching at his senses since they’d landed.

The wrong kind of quiet.

He moved carefully, his footsteps soundless, his breath even. He didn’t know what he was looking for yet. But he knew it wasn’t far.

On the outskirts of the settlement, where the land cracked and the wind carried whispers of what once was, Jungkook crouched in the dirt. His fingers sifted through a scatter of forgotten relics—discarded, broken, yet still clinging to the ghosts of their past lives. A pair of fractured eyeglasses, a rusted flashlight, the battered frame of a child’s tin robot.

Leo and Soobin lingered a few steps behind, silent observers in the fading twilight.

“What’s he doing?” Soobin’s voice barely disturbed the hush.

“Being weird,” Leo muttered, but he, too, remained rooted in place.

Jungkook’s hand hovered over the tin robot’s solar panel, the remnants of its once-bright paint dulled by time and filth. With a swipe of his sleeve, he cleared the grime. A stuttering whir broke the silence, and the robot jolted to life, its joints creaking in protest.

Static crackled through a tiny, corroded speaker. The voice that emerged was distorted, broken, yet eerily resolute:

"...to all intruders. I am the guardian of this land. I will protect my masters at all costs. Death to all intruders..."

Jungkook smirked, watching as the tinny proclamation faltered, fading into silence. But his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze shifted, drawn to the looming structure beyond the debris.

A building. It stood tall and defiant, its windowless facade riddled with rust, its heavy metal doors sealed tight beneath a corroded lock. He stepped closer, dragging his sleeve across a weathered sign bolted beside the entrance.

CORING ROOM.

Something shifted behind the glass. A flicker of movement.

Jungkook stilled. His breath shallowed. His muscles coiled. He squinted into the dimness, searching. But whatever had stirred was gone. The silence inside felt too thick, too absolute. Jungkook hated that kind of quiet.

“Missin’ the party.”

Lee’s voice cut through the stillness, a tether yanking him back to the present. There was a warning threaded in his tone. A reminder.

Jungkook exhaled sharply. With a muttered curse, he upended a rusted trash bin, sending its contents scattering across the ground.

“Missin’ the party,” he echoed, voice laced with mockery. “C’mon.”

Leo and Soobin hesitated. Their gazes lingered on the coring room, the secrets it swallowed whole. Then, wordlessly, they turned to follow.

But Soobin lagged behind. His pulse tapped against his ribs as he stared at the building’s darkened glass. The window was streaked with dust, but something about it set his teeth on edge. A shiver crawled up his spine, slow and deliberate. Curiosity won out.

One glance over his shoulder—once, twice—confirmed that no one was watching. He moved forward, drawn in by something nameless, something wrong. The door was ajar. Just enough for him to slip inside. He hesitated.

Then he stepped into the dark.

The main room of the settlement was dimly lit, its air thick with dust and unspoken tension. The Chrislams sat in a tight circle, handling their crystal goblets with the kind of care reserved for sacred relics. Each drop of cloudy, sediment-laden water felt like a fragile victory, stolen from the clutches of an unforgiving world.

Namjoon’s voice rose in solemn prayer, threading through the silence like a beacon.

“For this, our gift of drink, we give thanks in the name of our Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, and to our Lord, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, and to His father, Allah the Compassionate and the Merciful.”

The survivors listened in silence, their weariness momentarily replaced by something hovering between respect and reverence. Even Peter, the ever-cynical bastard, muttered under his breath, “Strangest religion I’ve ever seen…” But for once, there was no venom behind the words.

Goblets passed from hand to hand, each survivor taking a slow, measured sip. Jungkook received the last glass, thick with grit and unfiltered debris. Without hesitation, he tilted it back, drinking deep. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the moment stretching long enough for someone to say something—a joke, a jab, a challenge.

No one did. Instead, they drank slowly, savoring the water like it was a rare vintage. The silence in the room spoke louder than words.

Peter finally broke the quiet, raising his goblet with a wry smile. “Perhaps we should toast our hosts. Who were these people, anyway? Miners?”

Bindi’s eyes swept the room, taking in the scattered remnants of lives abandoned mid-motion. “Looks like geologists,” she murmured. “Advance team, moving from rock to rock, probably surveying for resources.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her gaze locking onto Bindi’s. “What makes you say that?”

Bindi shrugged, gesturing vaguely around the room. “The equipment. Field packs, sample cases. That storage unit back there? It’s filled with core samples. If they were miners, we’d be seeing drills, not rock collections.”

Y/N’s stomach coiled tight, the pieces falling into place in a way she didn’t like. The skiff they found… it was at least forty years old. She ran through every geological mission she could recall in the past few decades. Helion research teams. Corporate-funded surveyors. Independent prospectors. There had been plenty, but none that immediately fit.

Unless—

Her breath caught.

Unless it was one of those missions. The kind no one talked about. The kind that never made it to public records. Things like the Nexus missions.

She knew those more than most because she had been part of three different Nexus missions. Her mind raced as she thought of the possibilities. The planet didn’t match the usual colonization efforts, but sending geologists over a different type of crew would mean it was a resource operation—a good gauge to see the value of a planet otherwise unlikely to gain any real traction as a colony due to the weather and conditions.

They couldn’t have known what lived here at the time, or the creatures did not pose any real threat. Still, that did not explain the abandoned equipment. There were only five human-funded missions that ended badly that she could recall, and only two of them matched the description of this world.

The only thing she could hope for was that she was wrong.

Y/N forced her voice into neutrality, not wanting to show her hand just yet. “Could’ve been anything,” she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Geologists, miners, explorers. Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Bindi frowned, sensing something unspoken, but didn’t press.

Lee grunted, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Musta crapped out here, huh?”

A beat of silence.

“But why did they leave their ship?”

The question came from Leo, cutting through the fragile stillness. His voice was quiet. But the tremor in it betrayed him. Nobody answered. The question lingered in the air like a ghost, heavy and unwelcome.

Y/N swallowed hard, glancing toward the skiff, its battered frame silhouetted against the dying light. Her gut twisted. She had a terrible feeling. The kind that usually turned out right. But she wasn’t ready to say it out loud. Not yet. Because if she did, it would mean they were already too late.

Outside, something stirred.

The coring room—unnoticed by those inside—began to wake up.

A solar panel tilted upward, catching the harsh light of the twin suns. Metal joints groaned, storm shutters on the roof creaking open like the exhalation of something long-dormant. Deep inside, old ventilation systems whined as they adjusted to the change. Machines hissed, sluggish but waking.

Something clicked. Something shifted.

Soobin stood frozen inside the coring room, his breath shallow, his heart pounding against his ribs like a warning drum.

The first sound had startled him—the metal shifting, the machinery adjusting—but it was the next one that rooted him to the spot.

A soft, skittering shuffle. It was faint. Barely there. But instinct wrapped its icy fingers around his spine. Soobin didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because some part of him—some deep, animal part of his brain that still remembered the old fears from when humanity huddled in caves—was already screaming.

You are not alone.

The main room of the settlement felt smaller than before, as if the walls were closing in, pressing against the survivors with the weight of unspoken fears. The conversation continued, but the unease was growing.

“Well, just a skiff,” Lee said, shrugging in response to Leo’s earlier question. “Disposable, really.”

Peter, ever the cynic, swirled the last of his water as if it were a glass of fine scotch. “Like an emergency life-raft?”

“Sure,” Bindi agreed, her voice casual, too casual. “Coulda had a proper drop-ship take them off-planet. Long gone by now.”

Peter raised his goblet in mock cheer, his smirk returning. “A toast to their ghosts, then—”

A new voice cut through the air like a blade.

“They didn’t leave.”

The room froze.

Jungkook leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming, the weight of his words settling over them like a curse no one wanted to name. “Whatever got Daku got them.”

His tone was flat, certain, unshakable. “They’re all dead.”

Silence swallowed the room whole. The words hung there, clawing at their nerves, too terrible to dismiss. No one moved. No one breathed. The idea had been spoken aloud. And now, it couldn’t be taken back.

Jungkook’s voice lowered, but the intensity remained razor-sharp. “What, you don’t really think they left with their clothes still on the lines?” His gaze cut through them, demanding they face the truth. “Photos still on the walls? Equipment still powered up?”

He let the question hang. “C’mon. You don’t walk away from a settlement like this unless something’s coming for you.”

Bindi’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists. “Maybe they had weight limits,” she snapped. Denial. Pure and desperate. “You don’t know.”

Jungkook didn’t flinch. “I know you don’t uncrate your emergency ship unless there’s a fucking emergency.”

The words landed like a blade to the throat. No one argued.

Lee exhaled sharply, frustration edging into his voice. “Rag it, Jungkook,” he growled. “Nobody wants your theories—”

But Y/N leaned forward, her expression grim, her voice dead calm. “So what happened? Where are they, then?”

She silently agreed with Jungkook, though she kept it to herself. She admired his boldness, the way he spoke without hesitation, without concern for how his words landed. He didn’t sugarcoat, didn’t try to make things easier. She wished she could be more like that, less careful, less afraid of shattering hope.

Her question landed like a hammer. The silence that followed was suffocating. Because no one wanted to answer. Because the answer wasn’t one they wanted to accept.

Namjoon was the first to break. His voice was quiet, but insistent.

“Has anyone seen the young one? Soobin?”

A new kind of silence settled over them. A silence that hissed. That slithered. That felt like something pressing against their chests, waiting to squeeze.

Heads turned. Eyes searched. No one saw him.

Jungkook’s expression didn’t change—didn’t even flicker—but something sharpened in his gaze. His posture shifted, muscles coiling beneath his skin. He spoke slowly, each word deliberate.

“Has anyone checked the coring room?”

The air grew colder, despite the relentless heat of the three suns outside.

Y/N’s stomach turned to stone. And then, somewhere in the distance—

Clickity-click.

Clickity-click.

The sound wasn’t the beads this time.

The coring room was too quiet. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but full—waiting.

Grooooooan.

The storm shutters inched open, metal scraping against metal in a slow, tortured protest. The sound echoed through the chamber, rattling rusted beams, disturbing the dust that clung to the air like a ghost. A sliver of alien sunlight sliced through the dark, pooling across the cracked concrete floor.

It revealed just enough. Just enough to see that the room was not empty.

Soobin’s breath hitched. The air smelled wrong. Faintly metallic, faintly organic—something sickly, something rotting. His muscles locked, every nerve on edge.

Above him, the rafters stretched high into the dark. And something hung from them. His stomach lurched. Nests.

Bulging, fibrous masses clung to the ceiling, webbed together with thick, sinewy strands. They weren’t abandoned. They pulsed—faint, rhythmic, as if something inside them was breathing.

Click. Click.

The sound was soft. Claws against metal. A faint, deliberate skittering. Above him. Soobin didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

The noise multiplied. Spreading. Growing. Closing in.

His pulse hammered against his ribs. The narrow gap in the shutters—the sliver of daylight he’d squeezed through to get in—was his only way out.

Move.

Boots scuffing against the floor, he bolted for the light. His fingers stretched toward it, desperate—

Something shifted in the rafters. He glanced up. His breath died in his throat. The light had caught something. Something inside the nests. The fibers weren’t just woven strands of plant matter. They were glistening. Wet from the inside. And moving.

CRACK.

The nest erupted. A seam split down the middle, splitting like overripe fruit. And from inside— the swarm. A mass of writhing bodies, too many legs, too many claws, too many mouths.

The screeching hit him like a physical force. High-pitched. Layered. Crawling into his skull, filling every space between thought and fear. Soobin stumbled, his lungs locking, the instinct to run slamming into his chest. But the swarm had already seen him. And it was hungry.

The scream tore through the thick, humid air—raw, desperate, a sound so sharp it felt like it could cut.

Namjoon’s head snapped up.

For a second—just a second—everything else disappeared. The murmuring voices. The shifting bodies. The low hum of the failing generators. Gone. Only the scream remained.

Soobin. The name formed in his mind like a bullet in a chamber.

He didn’t say it—he breathed it. An exhale of dread. And then he was moving. Not thinking. Just running. Boots pounding against the dirt, lungs burning, heart slamming against his ribs.

Nothing else mattered. Not the others shouting after him. Not the sudden scramble of bodies trying to keep up. Not even the cold, creeping terror twisting around his spine, sinking its claws into his skin. Because he knew.

He knew before he even reached the coring room. Knew that the scream wasn’t just fear. It was a warning.

The nests, once silent and pulsing like dormant sentinels, began to rupture. One after another, they tore open with sickening, wet tears that echoed through the air. The sound was visceral—like overripe fruit, splitting under unseen pressure, spilling its dark contents into the dim, suffocating chamber.

A jagged, screeching noise filled the room, like knives dragged against stone. Sleek, winged horrors poured from the ruptured shells, their chitinous bodies glistening in the faint light. The reflection of their obsidian skin danced across the walls, catching every sliver of light that dared to pierce the gloom. Their wings churned the air, beating in frantic rhythm, an unnerving metallic hum that sank deep into the bones—a vibration that spoke of death.

Their talons, curved like fire-tipped scythes, slashed through the air with a terrifying precision. The darkness seemed to pulse with their frantic movement, the sharp sound of claws cutting through the dust and decay filling every corner of the chamber.

Soobin’s breath hitched, the overwhelming sense of dread crashing over him like a tidal wave. The exit, his only hope, was gone. The sliver of daylight, the promise of escape, had been obliterated, swallowed whole by the writhing, slashing black tide.

And then the swarm descended.

A flurry of wings, claws, and screeches filled the room, overwhelming his senses, suffocating him in a sea of terror. Soobin stumbled, his body moving on instinct, panic clawing at his ribs. Every muscle screamed at him to run, to survive. His mind raced for a way out—anything, anywhere.

But before he could think, one of the creatures dove toward him, its talons flashing like a streak of death. The pain was instant—a burning sting across his side that tore through him like a knife. He barely registered it, the world narrowing to a single thought: escape.

To the left—a door. A storage room.

He lunged, ignoring the sting, the weakness in his legs, the pounding in his chest. He ran with everything he had, the screeching swarm closing in behind him. Their claws scraped the air, reaching for him, and he pushed harder, slamming into the door with all his remaining strength. The door swung open and he hurled himself inside.

The second it clicked shut behind him, he collapsed, his body crashing against the shelves. Dust billowed up around him as his chest heaved, gasping for air. The creatures outside battered the door, their talons scraping across the metal like nails on a coffin lid. Each strike sent a shiver down his spine, the reality of his situation sinking in with brutal clarity.

His hands trembled as he fumbled for the bolt, his fingers slick with blood as he pressed them to his side. He slammed the bolt home, the creaking sound of rusted metal locking him into the room with a finality that echoed in his bones. Silence followed. Almost.

His breath was ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears. The blood—warm and slick—seeped through his fingers. It wasn’t deep, but it burned, as though the wound itself was alive, feeding on him. Poison? Infection? He didn’t know. Not yet. It didn’t matter.

He sucked in a breath and forced his vision to clear, blinking against the dizziness that threatened to take over. The room was dark, the shadows pooling thick in every corner, stretching across the forgotten shelves. The air was stale, thick with the weight of time and neglect. He couldn’t focus on that now. He had to find a way out.

His eyes scanned the clutter—boxes, long-forgotten tools, shattered glass. Anything. He needed a weapon. He needed something—anything—to give him a fighting chance.

Because this? This was just borrowed time.

The survivors ran, their boots hammering against the cracked earth, sending plumes of dust spiraling into the air as they sprinted through the settlement. Breath came fast, shallow, their bodies pushed to the edge of exhaustion. The air was thick with panic, vibrating with the frantic pulse of their flight, the sound of their desperation weaving into an unbearable rhythm beneath the oppressive glare of the twin suns.

Behind them, Jungkook didn’t move.

He stood by the water goblets, fingers idly tracing the rim of one as he drained the last, murky remnants in a single swallow. His silvered eyes flickered, watching the chaos unfold with a calm that was almost predatory—detached, observing, as if the terror around him were nothing more than an inconvenient distraction.

The supply room door exploded outward.

With a scream of tortured metal, it was torn from its frame, sending a tremor through the coring room. Namjoon surged forward, shoving past Lee, his heart pounding in his chest, his face drained of color. There was something about the way his skin had gone pale, the way his pulse seemed to freeze in his veins, that twisted the air into a suffocating knot of dread.

“Soobin?”

The name fell from his lips, a whisper of desperation, half prayer, half fear.

A rustling sound echoed from inside—soft, uncertain.

Soobin?

Namjoon’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the rising terror. He reached for the handle of the supply room door, his fingers trembling. The world inside was chaos.

Wet, fibrous husks split apart, spilling out a writhing, living storm of pale, winged horrors. The swarm burst from the shadows, their bodies gleaming like polished obsidian, their talons flashing like serrated razors catching the last fragments of light. They screamed, a sound that pierced the air, alien and unholy, like something crawling beneath the skin. The creatures poured into the room, their wings slicing through the dust-choked light, moving with an unnerving precision, as if their every movement had been calculated, predatory.

Namjoon stumbled back, gasping—but then his eyes locked onto something.

The thing that tumbled to the ground. A bloodied, shredded heap of flesh and bone.

Once, it had been Soobin.

Namjoon froze.

The sight stole the breath from his lungs—the torn limbs, the vacant brown eyes staring into nothingness, the way his body had been hollowed out, broken, like the creatures had made a home inside him before deciding to leave. The swarm had claimed him.

A sound clawed its way from Namjoon’s throat—grief, raw and staggering, choking him as he dropped to his knees beside the mangled remains of the boy. His hands shook violently as he reached out, fingertips brushing the cold, lifeless skin. Soobin had been young. Too young. He had whispered prayers, had laughed, had been here. And now he was nothing but remains, scattered across the floor like discarded refuse.

Behind him, Lee and Y/N inched forward, drawn by the silence that had followed the chaos. Their eyes flicked downward, following the trail to the open coring shaft. The bones, littered along its jagged walls, were picked clean, stripped bare. A graveyard, hidden beneath their very feet, had remained undisturbed all this time.

Under the pale blue sunrise, the Chrislams gathered, their voices weaving solemn, whispered prayers for the dead. Peter and Leo stood among them, their heads bowed in respectful silence.

Jungkook lingered at the edge of the settlement, his back turned, his eyes fixed on the horizon—as if waiting. But for what, no one knew.

Bindi broke first.

“Why the hell was the door chained up?” she demanded, her fists clenched, voice cracking with fury. “Why would they lock themselves in like that?”

Lee’s expression was unreadable, his eyes dark with something like frustration or maybe grief. He exhaled sharply. “Not sure,” he muttered, but his voice was edged with something harder. “But I’ll tell you this—the Chrislams better not be out there diggin’ another grave.”

Jungkook’s voice sliced through the tension, cutting across the conversation like a blade.

“It wasn’t about graves.”

All eyes turned toward him.

He stood leaning against the doorframe, his silvered eyes glinting in the dim light. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to him now, something sharper, knowing—a quiet threat beneath his calm exterior.

He took a slow step forward, his gaze flicking between the group.

“The other buildings weren’t secure,” he said flatly, his voice a quiet certainty. “So they ran here. Heaviest doors. Thought they’d be safe inside, but…” His gaze shifted toward the coring shaft, toward the bones that littered the space. He gestured with a slow flick of his wrist. “Someone forgot to lock the back door.”

Bindi’s jaw tightened, her breath catching in her throat as she followed his gaze.

To the evidence of the dead.

Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with the weight of grief and a fury that clung to her every word. "So that's what came of me, Daku. And you saw it. You was right there."

Jungkook nodded, a small, deliberate movement. He didn’t look away from her, his expression unreadable.

Bindi’s anger flared, her trembling hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her words hit like a hammer, the accusation sharp and biting. "You were tryin' to kill him too."

It wasn’t a question. It was a truth she was forcing him to face.

Jungkook didn’t flinch. Didn’t deny it. Instead, he shrugged—a slow, calculated motion, as if weighing her anger and finding it lacking.

"Just wanted his O-2," he said, his voice flat, the words hanging in the air between them like a challenge.

There was no apology. No remorse. Only cold, unvarnished truth.

Then, after a beat, he added, "Though I noticed he tried to ghost me first."

A smirk played across his lips—razor-sharp, unrepentant.

Bindi’s expression faltered, just for a moment. Because she knew. Because he was right. Soobin had tried to avoid them all. Tried to slip away before anyone could get close enough.

The silence stretched, thick and taut like a wire pulled too tight, waiting for the snap.

Without a word, Bindi reached up and pulled off her breather. She held it out to him.

"Take it."

Jungkook’s silvered eyes narrowed, studying her with a calculating gaze. "What, it’s broken?"

She shook her head. "Startin’ to acclimate, anyhow."

Her voice softened, as if the harshness that had defined their conversation up to that point had somehow dulled. "Take it."

For a long moment, Jungkook hesitated, his gaze flicking between the breather and her steady hands. Then, with a sharp breath, he accepted it. He held it to his face, inhaling deeply, his chest rising as the oxygen filled his lungs.

Across the room, Lee scowled. His arms were crossed tight, his expression unreadable, but the disapproval in his posture was unmistakable. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to—but it sat heavy in the air like a weight they were all too familiar with.

No one acknowledged it.

Y/N didn’t even notice. She had drifted toward a metal counter, her fingers brushing absently over the rows of coring samples lined up neatly in glass containers. Each sample had a date etched into its side, preserving a history in stone, a silent record of time passed.

Her eyes flicked over the samples, reading each number carefully, until she stopped.

Her stomach dropped.

"Sixty years ago," she murmured, almost to herself.

Lee’s head snapped toward her. "What?"

"These samples," she said, her voice tight. She pointed. "The last one’s from sixty years ago. This month."

Bindi frowned, uneasy. "Yeah? What’s special about that?"

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She hovered over the glass, her fingers still, her mind spinning, calculating the pieces of the puzzle before she could stop herself.

She had known. The skiff. The design. The outdated, forgotten metalwork that had felt both familiar and wrong. It wasn’t eleven years old. No. It was almost sixty-three. It had been updated a few times, yes, but she now realized what she’d missed. The wires were made of copper.

And then it hit her.

A single word formed in her mind, cold and stark, a death sentence wrapped in syllables.

Hades.

M6-117. The failed colony. The graveyard of Aguerra Prime’s last great ships. And the birthplace of the creatures that had torn it all apart.

The blood drained from her face as the realization slammed into her chest.

The eclipse.

The darkness here wasn’t just a few hours of nightfall. It wasn’t a half-day cycle, not some minor inconvenience they could wait out.

It would last for three days.

Three days in which this planet would become a breeding ground for nightmares.

And they wouldn’t have that long.

Her breath shallow, Y/N’s mind raced through the calculations, faster than she could stop them, faster than she could control them. The truth came crashing through her, each piece falling into place with a sickening clarity.

This place would be swarmed.

The bioraptors wouldn’t wait. They wouldn’t wait for the sun to rise again. They would come the moment the last sliver of light disappeared. And once they did, they wouldn’t stop. Not until everything was consumed.

Y/N turned sharply toward the group, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as she spoke.

“The planet…” She swallowed, fighting to keep her composure, “…it goes dark.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, thick with the weight of the truth. The silence that followed was suffocating, pressing in on them from every side. It was as if the very room had turned cold with the realization of what she’d just said.

Lee stared at her, his face unreadable, though his eyes seemed to flicker with disbelief—or perhaps with the refusal to understand.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” His voice was hoarse, raw, as if the concept itself was too monstrous to grasp.

Bindi went still, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she had heard her right, but the dread that crept up her spine told her otherwise.

Namjoon’s fingers curled into tight fists, the knuckles whitening as his body tensed, his mind racing to catch up with the horror of the revelation.

Peter let out a slow breath, his usual sarcasm nowhere to be found. His face had gone pale, the sharp edge of his humor dulled by the gravity of the situation.

Jungkook, still leaning against the wall, tilted his head slightly, studying her with those unreadable silvered eyes.

And then, a smirk.

"Not afraid of the dark, are you?" His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a sharpness to it that didn’t belong.

The settlement hummed with nervous energy, the kind that thrummed beneath the skin, palpable in the tense air. People moved frantically through the dusty yard, scrambling to prepare for whatever was coming. There was no time to waste, no room for hesitation. Y/N crossed the yard with wide, purposeful strides, boots kicking up small clouds of dirt with each step. Her mind raced ahead of her body, her thoughts colliding in a jumble as she muttered to herself.

“…need those cells from the crash ship. Shit, still gotta check the hull, patch the wings—”

Before she could take another step, Lee was in her path, blocking her way with that familiar, steady presence. His voice, calm but firm, sliced through the air like a sharp blade.

“Let’s wait on the power cells,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, though he fully expected one.

Y/N came to a halt, her eyes flashing with disbelief. She shot him an incredulous look, her frustration bubbling over. “Wait for what? Until it’s so dark we can’t even find our way back to—”

Lee interrupted her, his gaze unwavering. “We don’t know when it’s going to happen. So let’s not—”

“Get the fucking cells over here, Lee,” she snapped, her voice tight with irritation. “What’s the discussion?”

For a moment, Lee said nothing. He studied her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he seemed to weigh his response. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, “Ever tell you how Jungkook escaped?”

The sharp edge of Y/N’s anger dulled immediately, replaced by confusion. She froze, her brows furrowing. “No,” she replied cautiously, unsure of where this was heading.

Lee crossed his arms, the shift in his stance giving nothing away. “Do you want to know?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing nervously against her thighs as she tried to suppress a growing unease. “Depends,” she muttered, a sigh escaping her lips. “Is it important?”

Lee didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned, his pace unhurried as he walked toward the skiff. Over his shoulder, he threw her a glance. “Come on. It’s not a short story.”

The interior of the skiff was dim, the air thick and stifling, heavy with the hum of the systems. Y/N leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed tightly over her chest, trying to contain the swirling questions in her mind. Lee paced slowly in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes distant as if recalling something buried deep within.

“Jungkook’s story starts at Ribald S Correctional Institute,” Lee began, his voice low, measured. “Hell of a place—high walls, razor wire, guards who shoot first and ask questions never. He didn’t last three years there before he made his move. Overpowered a guard, took his uniform, and shot two more, along with the pilot of the only space freighter on the planet. He was gone before anyone knew what was happening. Left bodies behind like they were breadcrumbs.”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, but she didn’t interrupt. Her eyes followed Lee’s every movement, her mind trying to piece together the strange, dangerous man she thought she knew.

“The Company slapped a million-credit bounty on his head,” Lee continued, his voice turning colder. “And every bounty hunter, mercenary, and wannabe tough guy with a blaster went after him. He didn’t just escape them—he killed them. One after another. Every death added to his list, and that list grew fast. You know what they called him? A serial killer. A damn sociopath. Psychological evaluations said he was irredeemable, nothing but violence wrapped in flesh. And I believe it.”

Lee paused, his gaze hardening as he leaned in, the weight of his words sinking deeper. Y/N’s pulse quickened, her body tightening as the truth began to unfold.

“Ribald wasn’t the only place,” Lee went on, his voice growing more intense. “He broke out of Hubble Bay, Tangiers, some place called Psychological Restraint Station Q9—you name it, he’s escaped it. Killed guards, medics, other prisoners—hell, he even killed people who tried to help him. Once, during a war, he joined up with a mercenary outfit. Five hundred men in that unit, and guess how many made it off the planet alive? One. Him. The rumor is he killed most of his own men to save his own skin.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of Lee’s words settling heavily in her stomach.

“And then there was Slam City,” Lee continued, his voice dropping lower, colder. “Ursa Luna Penal Facility. Maximum security, the kind of place people don’t walk out of. He was brought in cryosleep, but when they woke him up to prove he was alive, he killed one of the mercs who delivered him and stole the other’s gear. Used it to bribe his way through the facility. It took him less than half a day to break out, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. And when I say bodies, I mean everyone. Guards, prisoners, anyone in his way.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides. “And no one stopped him?”

“Oh, plenty tried,” Lee replied, a bitter smile twisting at the edges of his lips. “Every time they caught him, he’d find a way to escape. He escaped Butcher Bay, one of the most secure prisons in the galaxy, by working the system. Stabbed me in the ribs once, damn near killed me. Then there was the Dark Athena, a merc ship. He slaughtered most of the crew—some of them were drones, sure, but a lot of them weren’t. Killed them all the same. There was a little girl onboard, Raye. Rumor is he helped her, but who knows why? Maybe he’s got some twisted code, maybe not. Either way, he left a pile of corpses in his wake.”

Y/N’s voice dropped, quieter now, almost hesitant. “You said he can pilot?”

Lee’s expression hardened, his gaze like granite. “Damn right he can. Jungkook’s not just some thug with a gun. He’s hijacked ships, stolen freighters right out from under their crews, outmaneuvered entire squads of mercenaries in space battles, and made it look easy. You put him in a cockpit, and he’ll turn that ship into a weapon faster than you can blink. Ex-Military. Ranger from Sigma 3. Smart fucker, I’ll give him that.”

Y/N furrowed her brow, her lips pressing into a thin line. The weight of Lee’s words hung heavy in the air, but a flicker of something else sparked in her. A hope. She wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s past—hell, she knew the kind of man he was. But it wasn’t lost on her that, despite his history, he’d been nothing but helpful to them. He’d risked his life more than once. And maybe… maybe that was worth something.

“Okay,” she said slowly, a hint of uncertainty in her voice as she pieced something together in her mind. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I can use him—use that—to help with—”

Lee cut her off, his voice like a knife. “He kills the pilot he steals from, Y/N.”

The flicker of hope died instantly, snuffed out by the coldness in his words. Y/N felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach churning. A shiver crept up her spine, and for a moment, she thought she might actually feel sick.

“You said we were going to trust him now,” she said, her voice lowering, almost accusing. “You said there was a deal.”

“That’s what I said,” Lee replied, his tone measured. But the way he looked at her—the steady, unyielding gaze—spoke volumes. He didn’t expect her to like it, but he didn’t care, either.

Y/N’s jaw tightened, a spark of anger flaring behind her eyes. She wasn’t about to back down. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Lee.”

Lee shrugged, unbothered, his tone turning as matter-of-fact as if he were describing the weather. “May’ve noticed chains don’t work on this guy. Prisons don’t either. The only way we’re truly safe is if he believes he’s going free. But the moment he stops believin’—”

“You mean,” Y/N interjected sharply, her voice tinged with disbelief, “if he figures out you’re going to royally fuck him over?”

“—we need a fail-safe,” Lee finished, ignoring her jab completely, his gaze unflinching. His words carried the weight of absolute conviction. “Bring the cells over at the last possible minute. When the wings are patched, when we’re fueled, when we’re ready to launch. Not a second before.”

Y/N stared at him, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face. She didn’t find any flicker of doubt, any hesitation. It was all cold calculation. She hated it.

“You know,” she said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them, “he hasn’t harmed any of us. Not once. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t even lied to us. Just stick to the deal, Lee. Let him go if that’s what it takes to keep the peace.”

Lee shook his head slowly, his expression darkening like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. “He’s a murderer,” he said, his voice low, filled with finality. “The law says he’s gotta do his bid. What kind of lawman would I be if I let him walk?”

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping as she turned away from him, frustration etched into her features. “We’re dancing on razor blades here, Lee. Every step you take just makes it worse.”

Lee’s jaw tightened. His words became even colder, sharper. “I won’t give him the chance to grab another ship—or to slash another pilot’s throat.” His words landed with the finality of a verdict, his stance unyielding, like the rocks surrounding the settlement.

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Finally, her voice, when it came, was quiet, but laced with a warning that cut deeper than any shouted words.

“Careful, Lee. You’re playing god with a devil who doesn’t miss a chance to prove he’s smarter than everyone else. Just hope you’ve got it all figured out before he does.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the skiff, her footsteps fading into the distance, leaving Lee standing there, unmoved but not entirely certain. His hand rested lightly on the weapon at his side, as if he wasn’t fully convinced his plan would hold.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the settlement in fiery hues of orange and deep blue. The day’s heat lingered in the air, thick and suffocating, as shadows stretched long and sharp across the cracked earth. A faint hum of repairs blended with the buzz of insects, creating a low, constant undertone to the scene. The atmosphere was heavy with more than just the oppressive heat—it was the unspoken tension that clung to everything, to every person, like dust that couldn’t be shaken off.

Y/N wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing grit and heat across her skin. It seemed to stick to her no matter how many times she wiped it away, the dust, the weight, the burn of it all pressing down like a constant reminder that there was no escape here. She glanced toward the skiff, where Jungkook was setting up a makeshift field table. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He was a study of unhurried confidence, every motion drawing the eye without effort.

And damn it, she couldn’t stop herself from looking.

He wore his miner’s goggles, the thick black lenses reflecting the dying light of the sun, making his face unreadable—yet no less striking. His sharp jawline, the way his lips curved with a silent smirk—there was something about him that didn’t belong in this world. His presence, his beauty, it felt out of place among the grime and the chaos. But it was more than just his face. It was the way he moved—fluid, deliberate—like every gesture was calculated to leave an impression.

Her gaze lingered, unwillingly drawn to the strength in his shoulders, the calloused hands that knew how to handle a blade as easily as they handled tools. She hated how easily her thoughts strayed, how attractive she found him even in the middle of all this dirt and sweat. Maybe especially then. It infuriated her.

And Jungkook wasn’t helping. He thrived on attention, basked in it like it was air. He knew exactly how to command a room without saying a word, and he’d caught her watching him before—dark eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something far more dangerous.

Now, as he straightened from the table, blade in hand, he glanced her way, and she felt the weight of his gaze even through the black lenses of his goggles.

“You’re gonna overheat staring like that, Frenchie,” he teased, his voice smooth and cool, laced with that same edge that both irritated and captivated her.

Y/N scowled, her jaw tightening. She hated that damn nickname. He’d picked it up after overhearing Captain Marshall call her that, a name she’d liked—until Jungkook twisted it, turned it into something that made her skin prickle.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, pretending to refocus her attention on the monitors inside the skiff.

But of course, she couldn’t stop the awareness of him as he moved closer, the scent of sweat and sun-warmed leather trailing behind him like an unfairly appealing cloud. Damn him.

Jungkook leaned casually against the skiff’s hatch, spinning the blade idly between his fingers. “You always this charming when you’re working, or is it just me?”

“It’s just you,” she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen, but the words came out sharper than she intended.

He chuckled, low and rich, a sound that sent an unwelcome shiver racing down her spine. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, trying to focus on the task at hand. The hull integrity test was inching closer to completion, the numbers climbing steadily—but her thoughts were scattered, tripping over the presence of the man who refused to let her focus. His proximity didn’t help. His presence was maddening, impossible to ignore.

“You know,” Jungkook said, his voice softer now, almost catching her off guard, “you’re damn smart. Resourceful, too. I’d trust you to fix just about anything.”

Her fingers faltered for a second, just a brief hesitation that betrayed her. She hated the way his words snuck under her skin. “Thanks,” she muttered, keeping her eyes locked firmly on the screen.

“And you smell nice,” he added, the teasing lilt unmistakable. “Even covered in sweat and blood.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her glare immediately locking onto him. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jungkook grinned, clearly entertained, and straightened up from his casual perch. “What? Can’t a guy give a compliment?”

She stepped closer, her irritation outweighing her better judgment. “If you’re done being a nuisance, maybe you could actually contribute to the mission.”

His smirk deepened, his eyes sweeping over her before settling on her face, as though he were reading her every thought. “Careful, Frenchie. You’re starting to sound like you might actually enjoy having me around.”

“I’d enjoy it more if you kept your mouth shut,” she snapped back, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening under his gaze, her body betraying the sharp edge of her words.

Jungkook leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low and smug. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Before Y/N could respond, the sound of boots crunching on the dirt broke the tension between them. Lee approached, his blond hair tinged red from the dust swirling in the air. His face was as unreadable as ever, but Y/N couldn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on them—just long enough for her to catch the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked between her and Jungkook.

She had noticed it before—the way his eyes followed her, burning into her skin as she moved through the space, a constant weight she couldn't shake. But confronting it would only make things worse. The tension within the team was already fraying, edges ready to snap, and adding more fractures wasn’t going to help anyone. Still, today was different. Jungkook’s movements were off—less sure, more erratic. His hands shook faintly as they worked. Y/N’s stomach twisted with concern. This planet, with its oppressive atmosphere and constant pressure shifts, wasn’t a place for humans to thrive, and the toll it was taking on him, despite his attempts to hide it, was beginning to show.

Jungkook noticed too. He didn’t address Lee right away, but when his gaze finally landed on him, it was with unnerving precision—an almost predatory focus that made Y/N uneasy. A slow smirk spread across his face, sharp and mocking. “Bad sign, shakin’ like that in this heat,” he drawled, his voice smooth but biting.

Lee stiffened, his jaw tightening at the remark, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he brushed past Jungkook, his focus now set firmly on something else.

The Chrislams arrived then, carrying a roll of Vectran. Their quiet voices mingled with the low hum of the skiff’s systems as they conferred about their next steps. Namjoon patted his side absently, searching for a knife.

“I’ll cut,” Jungkook offered, his voice calm but firm. With a fluid motion, a blade appeared in his hand, as though it had materialized from thin air. He handled it with precision, his fingers steady and confident as the blade sliced through the Vectran, its gleaming edge catching the dim light for a fleeting moment.

He passed the trimmed pieces to Yeonjun, who moved with a swift, graceful agility, scaling the wing struts of the skiff with the ease of someone who belonged in the air. Yeonjun delivered the material to Namjoon, who worked silently, his focus unwavering as he stitched the Vectran with meticulous care. For a moment, everything fell quiet, suspended in the weight of their work.

Yeonjun paused, his gaze shifting toward the horizon. The low-hanging sun cast long, eerie shadows across the barren landscape, and the air seemed to hold its breath. But the horizon remained still—quiet, for now.

Inside the skiff, Y/N exhaled, trying to refocus her mind on the monitors in front of her. The hull integrity test was nearly done, the numbers climbing steadily, but her thoughts kept straying, clinging to something she couldn’t quite shake. Jungkook’s presence. It lingered behind her like an invisible shadow.

The air inside the skiff was cooler, quieter—but Y/N felt anything but calm. Her fingers moved over the controls with methodical efficiency, scanning the gauges, but her mind churned, caught in the storm of unfinished business.

“Looks like we’re a few shy,” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and confident, slicing through the tension that had built up between them.

Y/N spun around, her pulse skipping in her chest. Jungkook stood near the depleted battery bay, Namjoon’s blade still twirling effortlessly between his fingers. His posture was relaxed, but the sharpness in his gaze, the way he was looking at her, made her blood run cold.

“Power cells,” he said, his tone light but probing.

“They’re coming,” she replied, her voice steadier than her nerves would suggest.

Jungkook tilted his head, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Strange,” he mused, eyes flicking briefly to the controls. “Not doin’ a run-up on the main drive yet. Strange… unless Lee told you the particulars of my escape.”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced her face into neutral. “I got the long-and-ugly version,” she said, the words clipped, terse.

Jungkook stepped closer, unhurried but deliberate, the faintest tension in his movements. His voice dropped to a soft, dangerous murmur. “So you’re worried about a repeat performance?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “It crossed our minds,” she bit back, her pulse quickening, her words sharper than she intended.

Jungkook’s smirk widened, but his tone shifted, softening into something almost tender. “I didn’t ask what crossed Lee’s mind. I asked what you think.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, fighting to keep her composure, but something in his eyes made her feel uncomfortably exposed. “You scare me,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Happy now? Can I get back to work?”

She turned sharply, focusing all her attention back on the monitor, but the tremor in her fingers betrayed her, just enough to make her feel vulnerable.

Jungkook didn’t let up. He moved closer, his voice quieter, dropping into a dangerous intimacy. “You think Lee’s the kind of man to keep his word? Think I can trust him to cut me loose?”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze flicking to him despite herself. “Why? What’d you hear?”

A deep smirk stretched across Jungkook’s face, slow and deliberate. “Oh, nothing much. Just a thought. If it were treachery, he’d have done me by now. But I’m worth more alive, you see. Twice as much, in fact.”

The words hit hard, and Y/N’s stomach tightened. But she recovered quickly, her voice cold and sharp. “Save the mind games, Jungkook. We’re not gonna turn on each other, no matter how hard you try.”

Jungkook chuckled—a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned in just enough that she could feel his warmth, the proximity almost unbearable. His voice dropped to a whisper, each word deliberate, a quiet warning against her resolve. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen when the lights go out, Frenchie. But once the dyin’ starts, this psycho family of ours is gonna tear itself apart. You better figure out who’s standing behind you when it does.”

The monitor beeped sharply: HULL INTEGRITY—100%.

The hatch hissed open, letting in a cool rush of air, breaking the heavy tension. Jungkook straightened, his smirk returning to its usual infuriating curve.

“Oh,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with dark amusement, “ask him about those shakes. And why your buddy screamed like that before he died.”

And with that, he was gone, slipping out of the skiff like smoke, leaving her standing there, heart pounding and frustration simmering. Y/N forced her eyes back to the monitor, but her thoughts lingered on his parting words, the heat of his breath still lingering in the air. She hated how attractive she found him, how easy it was to fall into his rhythm, his dangerous charm.

And she hated even more that he probably knew it.

The box of red-metal shotgun shells sat on the table, gleaming faintly under the dim light of the cabin, a silent testament to the secrets they held. Lee’s hands moved methodically, his calloused fingers selecting one from the neatly arranged row. With a small twist and a quick snap, he cracked it open, revealing a tiny glass ampule hidden within the casing. The amber liquid inside caught the light for just a moment before he slid it into the barrel of a syringe. The hiss of the plunger followed, and he pressed the needle against the eager vein in his arm. For a fraction of a second, his muscles tensed, his body rejecting the foreign substance—but then, the drug took hold. His expression smoothed into something unreadable, the tension melting away.

“Who are you? Really?”

The voice startled him, pulling him from the haze of the drug’s effect. Lee’s head snapped up, his dark eyes meeting hers. Y/N stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and unyielding. There was a new edge to her—something colder, more dangerous than the familiar tension between them.

“You’re not a real cop, are you?” she pressed, her tone sharp, accusatory, as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

Lee remained silent, his eyes betraying nothing. He set the syringe down on the table, the sharp clink echoing between them.

“Just some mercenary who goes around talking about the law like—”

“I never said I was,” Lee interrupted, his voice calm, but laced with a warning that hung heavy in the air.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “And you never said you were a merc, either.” Her eyes flicked to the paraphernalia scattered across the table, and without hesitation, she began rummaging through his belongings. Her movements were bold, almost daring him to stop her.

It didn’t take long. She pulled out a stash of the red-metal shells, each one unmistakably designed to conceal a dark secret. Holding one up, she turned it over in her fingers, studying it with a piercing gaze.

“You have a little caffeine in the morning, I have a little morphine. So what?” Lee’s voice was flippant, the tone almost dismissive as he leaned casually against the wall.

Her lips curled into a humorless smirk. “And here you’ve got two mornings every day. Wow, were you born lucky?”

“It’s not a problem unless you make it one,” he shot back, narrowing his eyes as the tension simmered between them.

Her expression darkened, and her voice snapped out, like a whip cracking through the air. “You made it a problem when you let Shields die like that. When you had enough drugs in your stash to knock out a fucking mule team.”

Lee straightened, his casual facade slipping away, replaced by a defensive edge. “Shields was already dead,” he snapped, his tone sharper now. “His brain just hadn’t caught up to it yet.”

The words hit her like a slap. Y/N froze, her grip tightening on the shell in her hand, the metal pressing into her skin as her knuckles whitened. “Anything else we should know about you, Lee? Christ, here I am letting you play games with our lives when—”

Before she could finish, he moved, his hands grabbing hers with a firm, unyielding grip. He pulled her hands to his back, forcing her fingers against the jagged, uneven scar that stretched beside his spine.

“My first run-in with Jungkook,” Lee said quietly, his voice a low growl. “Went for the sweet spot and missed. They had to leave a piece of the shiv in there. Couldn’t risk taking it out without paralyzing me. I can feel it sometimes, pressing against the cord.” He released her hands, stepping back with a hardness in his gaze that matched the stone-like resolve in his posture. “So maybe the care and feeding of my nerve endings is my business.”

Y/N’s hand hovered in mid-air for a moment, then dropped to her side. Her gaze remained fixed on him, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. “You could’ve helped.”

The accusation hung heavy between them, sharper than any blade.

“And you didn’t.”

Outside, a voice broke the charged silence, calling urgently, “Captain! Captain!”

Lee’s lips curled into a faint, bitter smirk, and his voice dropped low, mocking. “Yeah, well,” he said, “look to thine own ass first. Right, Captain?”

The words stung more than she wanted to admit, the bitterness cutting deep. But Y/N didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked out, her steps quick and purposeful, leaving the weight of their conversation to linger in the cabin behind her.

Behind her, Lee leaned back against the wall, watching her retreating form with a hard expression. The smirk faded, leaving something heavier in its place. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. The ampule was empty now, the drug’s effects wearing off, but the weight of what had just been said hung in the air, heavier than any substance he’d ever injected.

There was more to the story, more that he hadn’t shared. A deal made before takeoff, a decision that had led them off course, straight into the hands of their attackers. The memory of the deal he had struck with Shields, taking a back road to move Jungkook under cover of darkness, still tasted bitter in his mouth. They hadn’t been hit by accident. They’d been led there.

Lee had kept that part to himself. But maybe it was time to admit it. He wasn’t sure if Y/N was ready for the truth. But the way she’d looked at him—cold and accusatory—suggested she might already have figured it out. Still, the thought of telling her made his stomach tighten. The truth was a dangerous thing, and some pieces were better left buried.

Outside, the group stood scattered across the clearing, their faces tilted upward, eyes wide, mouths slightly open in silent awe. The air around them felt thick, charged with an almost unnatural stillness. The faint rustle of the wind seemed to pause, holding its breath, as if reluctant to disturb the moment. The universe, it seemed, had gone quiet—waiting.

“What do my eyes see?” Peter’s voice trembled, fragile and filled with wonder, as though afraid to break the spell that had fallen over them.

“It’s starting,” Y/N replied softly, her words barely more than a breath, the reality of the moment sinking into her bones.

Above them, an ethereal arch of light began to stretch across the twilight sky. It shimmered, ghostly and delicate, like a phantom river gliding across the heavens. It started as a mere glimmer on the distant horizon, but even as they watched, it grew, expanding outward with deliberate grace. The light painted the two suns in soft shades of lavender and gold, casting a surreal glow that seemed to fight against the encroaching darkness creeping from the opposite side of the horizon. The juxtaposition of light and shadow created an almost sacred atmosphere, as though the heavens themselves were about to reveal their secrets.

The group stood frozen, entranced, their minds suspended in the beauty of it all. It was as if time itself had taken a breath and held it, letting the moment linger. But then, as if on cue, Bindi’s voice sliced through the trance, cutting through the reverence like a knife.

“If we need anything from the crash site,” she said, her tone brisk and unyielding, “I suggest we move. That sand-cat’s solar.”

Her words ignited a spark of urgency in the group. The serene silence that had enveloped the settlement shattered, replaced by a rush of movement and purpose. People scrambled to grab supplies—water containers, solar lanterns, climbing gear, weapons. There was no time for hesitation now.

Bindi was already at the sand-cat, her movements precise and practiced as she cranked the engine to life. The vehicle roared to life, its solar panels straining to catch the last rays of the fading light. “Now or never, folks!” she barked, her voice carrying above the sudden flurry of activity as the others piled aboard, their hands eager and hearts racing.

“Let’s get those cells!” Y/N shouted, her voice sharp, commanding, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

The sand-cat lurched forward, kicking up a cloud of dust as it sped toward the wreck site. Jungkook leapt onto the rear bed with ease, his body moving with an effortless grace that made the jump seem like child’s play. Peter and Leo sprinted after the vehicle, boots pounding against the packed dirt. They reached the back just as the sand-cat hit a bump, hauling themselves aboard with a mix of desperation and adrenaline.

“We stay together!” Bindi called, her voice like iron, grounding them in the midst of the rush.

Lee emerged from the settlement’s private quarters, a shotgun slung over his shoulder and a pouch of red-metal shells strapped to his hip. His boots pounded against the ground as he sprinted toward the departing vehicle. The sand-cat veered past the settlement’s incinerator, and Jungkook reached out, his smirk sly and confident, hauling Lee aboard with a single, fluid motion.

“Don’t wanna miss this,” Jungkook said, his teasing tone laced with something darker, something that lingered beneath the surface.

Lee shot him a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing. He gripped the railing as the sand-cat accelerated, the wind whipping around them.

“Look!” Leo cried, his voice breaking with awe.

The sand-cat crested a ridge, and the horizon stretched wide before them. A massive planet began to rise, its curvature vast and unimaginable. Its surface shimmered with swirling hues of green and silver, like the very earth itself was alive. The planet’s colossal rings spread across the sky, glowing with an eerie luminescence, their edges jagged with the glittering remnants of ancient collisions. The sheer scale of it all—this cosmic behemoth—was enough to make the two suns below seem small and insignificant, their light swallowed by the immensity of the rising planet. Its presence cast a heavy shadow over the land, threatening to swallow them whole.

The sand-cat plunged into a canyon, the roar of its engine reverberating off the jagged walls. The bones of a massive creature littered the path, ribcages arching overhead like grotesque monuments to a long-dead past. The roll cage scraped against them with an ear-splitting screech as they barreled through, the noise amplified by the canyon walls.

The wrecked ship came into view, its once-proud hull now a crumpled husk against the canyon floor. The group sprang into action as the sand-cat skidded to a halt, the urgency of their mission pushing them forward. Bindi barked orders, her voice clear and firm, cutting through the growing darkness around them.

Peter paused for a moment, his feet rooted to the ground as he turned back toward the sky. The planet loomed higher now, its rings casting shifting shadows across the desert floor. The sheer scale of it all was staggering, its presence so overwhelming that it seemed to consume the entire world. The planet wasn’t just rising—it was swallowing the sky, the suns, and perhaps them along with it.

“Peter, move!” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him out of his daze.

With a final, reluctant glance at the celestial titan above, Peter turned and joined the others. His pulse raced, and as he caught up with the group, he could feel the weight of what was coming. Above them, the arch of light began to ripple, as if alive, its movement almost sentient. The shadows deepened around them, and the air grew thick with the anticipation of something monumental on the horizon.

Whatever was coming next, they had precious little time to prepare.

Inside the battery bay, the air was thick with the sharp tang of ozone, a heavy scent of burnt metal mingling with the faint, acrid smell of aging wiring. Dim emergency lights flickered weakly, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across the cramped space. Towering rows of depleted power cells loomed in silence, their massive forms resembling sentinels guarding a forgotten realm. The room was cold, the only sound the soft hum of the failing lights and the metallic scrape of Lee's boots as he worked.

Lee gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched against the weight of the first power cell. It resisted him, the massive cylinder a stubborn and unwieldy thing. Age and neglect had conspired against him, its weight pulling him off balance with each strained tug. His muscles screamed as he wrestled it free from its docking cradle, finally yanking it loose with a forceful jerk. The sudden shift nearly sent him tumbling backward, but he regained his footing, dragging the cumbersome unit across the deck. His boots scraped against the scuffed metal floor, the sound an irritating reminder of just how much work was left to do.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, running down his face and disappearing into the collar of his worn jumpsuit. His arms trembled with the effort, and his breath came in short, ragged bursts, but he pressed on. There was no time to waste. Each step was a battle, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Not now.

Behind him, a sound broke through his concentration—confident footsteps. Lee glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Jungkook effortlessly hoist a second power cell onto his shoulder, his movements smooth and practiced. The younger man carried it like a feather, his lithe frame betraying the surprising strength that lay beneath. To Lee, it seemed almost like mockery, the ease with which Jungkook handled the massive weight. The cell, which was easily a hundred pounds, rested against Jungkook’s shoulder like a sack of grain, the young man’s posture impeccable, like a man who’d done this a thousand times before.

As Jungkook passed, he flashed a grin that was all teeth, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Try to keep up, old man," he teased, the words light, but the challenge hanging in the air. His tone was mocking, and beneath the humor, there was something sharp—something dare Lee to respond.

Lee’s scowl deepened, the jab landing harder than he wanted to admit. He adjusted his grip on the cumbersome power cell, its bulk weighing him down with each dragging step. The scrape of metal on metal echoed in his ears as he made his way toward the loading ramp, his body aching from the strain. Jungkook’s effortless pace only fueled the fire in his chest. He wasn’t going to be outdone, not by a cocky kid.

Ahead, Jungkook moved with ease, his steps light as he descended the ramp, the power cell balanced with casual precision on his shoulder. He hopped the last step, landing with a controlled bounce before setting the cell down onto the sand-cat with a resounding thud. He glanced back at Lee, one eyebrow raised, a silent dare in his expression.

“Need a hand?” Jungkook’s voice was laced with mock sincerity, his lips curling in that infuriating smile.

“Don’t push your luck,” Lee growled, teeth gritted as he made his way up the ramp, finally catching up. His arms burned from the strain, but he refused to stop. Not with the eclipse looming, not with everything on the line.

Bindi’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding, as she expertly maneuvered the sand-cat into position. The vehicle’s treads kicked up plumes of dust as it came to a halt, the grinding sound of metal on rock a steady reminder of their dwindling time. She parked just far enough to give the team room to work, the scrap-metal sled trailing behind, its battered frame a makeshift lifeline. The Chrislams were already at work, their hands moving in practiced synchrony as they lashed the sled securely to the sand-cat’s rear with frayed ropes and makeshift clamps. Every motion was swift, efficient, driven by necessity—and the growing urgency in their eyes.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. With a grunt, he hoisted the power cell from his shoulder and dropped it onto the sled with a resounding clang. The metal groaned beneath the weight, but it held firm. Lee wasn’t far behind, dragging his own cell with grim determination etched into every line of his face. He shoved it into place beside Jungkook’s, their movements synchronized by the same unspoken understanding: this was a race against time, against the impending darkness, and against each other.

Overhead, the yellow sun began to dim, its light swallowed by the planet’s encroaching rings. The sky shifted into a strange, eerie twilight, casting long, distorted shadows across the crash site. The last remnants of daylight seemed to be fading into something far darker, the air growing thicker, heavier. The sudden gloom was accompanied by a faint, high-pitched whine—a sound that crawled under the skin and made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. It started low but steadily grew louder, a vibration that seemed to pulse in the air itself, like a warning from something ancient and waiting.

“Keep moving! Don’t stop!” Y/N’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through the tension. Fear laced her words, but there was something about her command that only made her more forceful, more determined.

Most of the team obeyed without question, their hands moving faster, breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. But Peter, ever the curious one, faltered. His gaze drifted to the jagged spires rising in the distance. He squinted, his curiosity sparking even in the midst of the growing chaos. He didn’t notice the way his body stiffened, the hairs on his arms rising as the air seemed to pulse with something alive.

“Peter, now is not the time!” Bindi’s voice was a whip-crack of authority, cutting through the tension like a blade.

The yellow sun was gone, swallowed entirely by the planet’s vast rings. Its twin—the red sun—followed moments later, plunging the world into an oppressive darkness that felt almost sentient, like it was pressing down on them, suffocating them. The whine crescendoed into a keening wail, a sound that rattled the bones and sent panic rippling through the group. And then, like some sleeping giant disturbed, the spires began to stir.

Taglist: @fancypeacepersona @ssbb-22 @mar-lo-pap @sathom013 @kimyishin @ttanniett @sweetvoidstuff @keiarajm @sathom013 @miniesjams32

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

REVOLUTION

[CYBERPUNK x ALIENS AU]

MASTERLIST

Side Characters: OT7

Warnings: violence, sharp objects, blood, death.

Genre: cyberpunk, fantasy, enemies to lovers, angst, he hates her in the beginning, slow burn, aliens.

SUMMARY: Human race has been fighting an endless war with aliens for 200 years, that made scientists and the military force create Shelters under the grounds of the deserts in hopes to save as many lives possible, althought they have tried to win this war nithjng humans tried was effective wich lead them create a new weapon. One that finally could win. But, could only be used by a hybrid, half human and half aliens the new generation of humans hybrids stronger then an average human, were the only ones that could wear the armor. They were the only ones strong enough and capable of using the armor to defeat the aliens. In the middle of this war a new fight arise when a normal woman decides to make a reckless decision, out of love she sets fire to the fuse.

INTRO <must read before part one>

INTRODUCTION - A win Starts with a defeat

PART ONE

BITTERSWEET

PART TWO

RECKLESSLY I SET FIRE TO THE FUSE

PART THREE coming soon

PART FOUR coming soon

PART FIVE coming soon

On going…

[sweetvoidstuff]

A Wolf in Chains - Steel and Starlight

(Jungkook x Reader | Sci-Fi | Action | Enemies to Lovers | Slow Burn | Survival)

A skilled mechanic finds themselves entangled with Jungkook, a dangerously efficient fighter who was meant to be nothing more than cargo. As they navigate threats, their uneasy alliance is tested in ways neither expected. But as they face impossible choices, the question remains—who is truly in control here?

Masterlist

Steel and Starlight

Wordcount: ~300

(Jungkook’s POV)

The chains were temporary.

Everything else? Irrelevant.

Jungkook leaned against the cold metal wall of the makeshift brig, watching the ship’s crew go about their business like they actually thought this setup would hold him.

He had broken out of better.

Namjoon, the captain, was too measured. He made careful choices. Smart choices. But even smart men made mistakes.

Taehyung, the pilot, was too easygoing. Jungkook had seen men like him before. They joked their way through space, never taking things seriously until it was too late.

The others? Unremarkable.

And then there was her.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to the woman moving with precision through the cargo bay.

At first glance, he’d been unimpressed. She wasn’t a soldier. Wasn’t even armed.

But now… now he wasn’t so sure.

She moved like someone who had been doing this for a long time. Every motion was efficient, calculated, no movement unnecessary. The way she checked the loading mechanisms, recalibrated the stabilizers—there was no hesitation, no wasted movement.

And that meant something.

In this line of work, mechanics were expendable. People overlooked them, dismissed them. But this woman? She had fought for her position here. That much was obvious.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Interesting.

For the first time since stepping onto this ship, he reconsidered.

Maybe this crew wasn’t completely useless.

Maybe… she wasn’t, either.

He smirked.

This was going to be fun.

[yamchioya]

[Alien AU]

* ⋆ · ⊹ ˚ Childhood memories ✹ · ˚ ✦ ✵

[sailor--v]

Love Songs from Pluto by mikrokosmonaut

방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rap Line / VMin / JinKook T for swearing, alcohol, and tired adult bullshit Daegu boys are aliens au

Everything in their lives was going perfect, until one day Yoongi and Taehyung disappeared. Years later, Namjoon is still trying to pick up the pieces when a familiar voice on a high schooler's mixtape gives him hope that they could get it all back.

Jungkook leaned forward. “I understand, but can we ask one thing?” Seokjin hesitated, then nodded. “Are they still alive?” Namjoon asked. Jungkook gripped his knee under the table. Seokjin’s eyes widened, then he looked around, judging the distance between them and the nearest person. The waitress was avoiding their table, it seemed, until they figured out their weird seating issue. The next nearest table was out of earshot. “Yes.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60663871/chapters/154902616

[bonny-kookoo]

suddenly missing the prey!couple🥺any soft hours with about-to-be-dad!koo? has the baby come yet??

It's been a while, hasn't it? :(

"You're slowly approaching the end." Jin says, and Jungkook is instantly on alert, worrying about the worst. "Of her pregnancy, my god! Sorry, I should've worded that differently." He laughs, while Jungkook pouts, mad about the joke.

Jungkook's nerves have been stretched over the past few weeks, with every new change in you and the growing baby. You're past the normal time of a human pregnancy at this point, and now approaching the final stages of a hybrid one- multiple tests by Seokjin making sure everything's going as smooth as possible. "You're doing very well. I'm very surprised you're still up and walking around, quite honestly." The doctor praises.

"She shouldn't be.." Jungkook scowls. "But the second I look away, she's causing trouble." He complains.

"I just can't stay sitting down, Jungkook." You whine. "Neither can I sleep all day, or I'll get a headache." You explain.

"She should actually stay active." Seokjin comments. "Keep her energy up. We don't know yet how tough the delivery will be, and if she will need assistance." He sighs, putting everything back into his bag.

Jungkook knows what assistance means. In that case, you will probably have to be admitted into a more sterile environment, to deliver the child in a different way. Something he wants to avoid, if possible.

"I think she will do fine on her own, however." Jin softly reassures, making Jungkook wrap his arms around you from where he sits behind your body, his head leaning on your shoulder.

"You'll be the greatest mother this planet has ever seen." Jungkook tells you, purring loudly now as his hands feel his unborn daughter move. "And she's already excited to meet you."

"You too." You laugh. "You think she'll be fine?" You worry, and Jungkook nods.

"She's developing exactly as I suspected, considering she's basically a hybrid. Of course, we will only have certainty once she is delivered, but as of now, everything is looking just fine." He nods.

"See?" Jungkook hums. "We'll be okay." He reassures.

Not just you however, but mostly himself- his own biggest fear still brewing with every day you're living like this.