#fantasy park au

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Howl at Midnight

Pairing | werewolf!Jimin x human!Reader

Word Count | 7.5k

Warnings | +18, angst, smut, halloween theme, an apparently abandoned castle (don't trespass on other people's property 🤧), mentions of a pact made with the city's residents, poison, MC doesn't really have much choice 💀, forced nudity, dark themes and also yandere (?), underneath MC finds the situation exciting, bites and marks, sink the canines and drink blood, PWP, oral sex, pussy worship, dubcon, begging, virginity loss, unprotected sex (use protection!), vaginal sex, big dick, knotting, MC abandons herself to her fate (I think Jimin's supernatural nature contributes in MC's choices), eat cum, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is dark and yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You always thought you lived in a quiet, small town. You never imagined that the locals would be able to keep such a secret for centuries, you fell into their trap… But it doesn't seem so bad.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!!! 🥹

My best friend and I challenged each other to write a Halloween-themed story using the following keywords: werewolf - halloween - virginity - castle - poison.

I don't know why I came up with such a story, it was supposed to be something simple but my dark side took over WAY too much 💀

Anyway my best friend liked the story and suggested that I publish it, so here it is, I already apologize for any mistakes and for the plot which is not who knows what 🥺

Howl at Midnight was written for recreation, but I still hope you enjoy it ❤️

PS: I really didn't know how to classify this story, when in doubt I put the warning “yandere,” since there are behaviors that go a little beyond 😵‍💫

Permanent Taglist | @katherine-kookie, @btsuga-d, @reallygenerouskoala, @takemeaway5402, @velvet-stardust2002, @jimincrystal, @ke1k029, @kylafox09, @pantara, @themwordsblog, @angelicsmilesworld

It's a rather dark night, you think, as the flickering lights of street lamps barely illuminate your path. You and some of your friends have decided to spend Halloween night roaming the more desolate streets of your small town, rather than attend the party of the school's homecoming queen, the most popular and at the same time most hated girl ever by you and your friends, a common ground that has certainly welded your friendship.

You are reminded of the afternoon you spent at Glenn's house deciding how you would spend Halloween night; Glenn's initiative had been rather unique, since he was not a fan of that holiday.

“It will be fun, everything is so scary at night, we might even meet a real vampire! I mean, not like Edward Cullen, I mean one who doesn't sparkle-” but Glenn's excited monologue had been badly interrupted by his girlfriend, Claire, who had hit him over the head with a book, and who knows why, said book was actually titled Twilight. You remember giggling, willingly accepting that idea, but now...

“We were simply supposed to go for a walk, Glenn,” you mutter ruefully, looking around, “Do you want to tell me where you're taking us?”

The red-haired boy snorts again, settling into his vampire costume bought at a thrift store stall, “Come on Y/N, what would life be without a little thrill?”

Claire, for her part, nods in turn with a euphoric smile, as if she knows something you don't, prancing merrily dressed as a red devil among black lace decorations and lace.

“Life would be as it has always been, wonderful,” you blurt out nervously, freezing suddenly.

The asphalt has run out and the streetlights have stopped dimly illuminating the entire street, you are at the edge of the most talked about lands in your town. When and how exactly did you get there?

“Here we are, my girls,” you hear Glenn say, satisfied with his feat.

“What are we doing here?” you swallow, far from cheerful.

Answering you is Claire, “It's an abandoned castle and this is Halloween night, what do you say?”

You grit your teeth, shaking your head, “You're crazy, I'm not going in there!” you take a step back, your heart stirring, but Glenn stops you in a single moment.

“Where do you think you're going? I promised your brother I'd keep an eye on you,” he tells you sternly, and you know he's right, you can't just leave on your own, the streets are empty but it would still be dangerous.

“Don't you want to see what it's really like inside, aren't you the least bit curious?”

Short answer? No.

More articulate answer? Fuck no.

“Come on, don't be a wimp now!”

You snort, casting a glance at the castle in question.

It is as large as it is gloomy; the older inhabitants of the town have always spoken of the presence of various monsters within it, which is why the lands surrounding the castle are so large, preventing the actual growth of the otherwise large and well-populated town. Some of the land had been ceded to keep the monsters quiet.

That's some bullshit. And you're certainly not a wimp.

What will you find in there, maybe overgrown spiders? You shake your head, certainly nothing up to the Acromantulae seen in Harry Potter.

“I'm not afraid,” you limit yourself to saying, Glenn and Claire seem satisfied with your answer as they begin to step over half of the downed iron bars surrounding the gates of the immense building. It bothers you that they haven't bothered beyond you, but it's Halloween night; you can't really spoil their fun.

You hold on tightly to one of the rusty old iron bars, lift one leg trying not to fall off because of the bulky skirt of your witch costume, and end up straight on the ground covered with dry mud and grass, thank the heavens that it hasn't rained in the last few days, otherwise goodbye costume, although more like an elegant medieval dress and nothing more than that.

“Guys, wait for me!” you exclaim as you turn toward them, but you find yourself rolling your eyes.

The darkness is almost completely pitch black, only the moon high in the sky gives you some brightness in that open space surrounded by green trees and uncultivated grass. Your friends are not there.

“Please tell me this is a joke, please,” you growl, turning only a few seconds to climb over the railing, “Glenn? Claire?”

A shiver of unease snakes down your spine, as if someone - or something - is watching you. But you immediately banish the absurd thought. The Halloween atmosphere always makes everything quite scary; your friends chose that place for that very reason.

Imagining that you simply find them in front of the castle's entrance, you also wander down the path that actually looks like anything else by now. You will meet each other there.

The wind blows without worrying about your bare shoulders because of the dress's boat neckline; the cape had long since been taken away along the way. You bought it in an antique store and the elderly man seemed quite eager to get rid of it. He even gave you a discount.

The sound of falling leaves under the force of the draught is quite terrifying, especially now that you've discovered you can't use your cell phone. There is absolutely no service there, and isn't that how the best horror movies begin?

A frustrated groan leaves your throat, you don't have to think about it.

“Glenn?” you try to call out once more, but along the path echoes the hoots of an owl that is probably scrutinizing you with condescension, wondering why a silly girl like you is wandering around in such a desolate, godforsaken place.

When you arrive at the gates of the castle, you find yourself admiring the extraordinary Gothic architecture of the huge, ancient building made of stone and marble. The fact that it has survived over the centuries without any kind of restoration is a testament to the good materials that were used.

One by one, you walk down the stone steps, sudden thunder jolts you violently, and with fear in your veins you throw yourself toward the immense reinforced door, finding it ajar, a sign that Glenn and Claire must have already entered. You ignore the hint of annoyance, since they could at least wait for you, you must escape the sudden storm.

Wordlessly you notice the large, thick black clouds enveloping the sky, obscuring even the immense full moon.

You carefully close the ancient gateway, looking around the thick-walled atrium decorated with paintings that are surely worth more than your current home, not to mention the carpet you are walking on, though a bit worn, is definitely from the time of the castle's founding. You wonder which lord lived there and whether it can be traced in the history books.

“Claire?” you whisper, afraid of disturbing someone, but who exactly?

Sighing wearily, you really have no time or inclination to play along with your friends, you rest your hand on the wrought-iron railing of the staircase, beginning to climb so that you can find those two idiots as soon as possible and get home safely.

They say 'God makes them and then matches them up,' right? You mentally growl, well, you would’ve just wiped them out instead.

Between corridors that are not real corridors but dead ends, some narrow and some exaggeratedly large, you finally find the wing reserved for rooms, hating the enormity of that place.

“Hey, you ... are you here?” you ask, slowly opening a bedroom door with one eye closed and one only slightly open, fearing to find the two lovebirds doing strange things in the leto of an abandoned castle, because they would be perfectly capable of it.

But what you find is just a lavishly decorated bedroom absolutely empty of any other life forms but you.

“This is definitely a joke,” you chuckle mirthlessly, clutch your arms to your chest, and continue that unwelcome tour of yours, continuing to open rooms at random, with no more expectation of finding anyone in them, until you come to a rather large bedroom.

Quite different from the others, which up to that point had been yes, beautiful, but empty, lacking a soul.

This one was immense just like the castle itself, yet warm, thanks to the burning fireplace. The four-poster bed was adorned with red silk sheets, as were the velvet curtains tied to the solid wooden columns, on the walls finely decorated with gold paint were hung medieval tapestries, depicting hunting parties, running horses and wolves, wolves everywhere. One that particularly strikes you depicts two wolves and a woman in the center, they seem ready to bite her fiercely, you notice with discomfort.

High glass windows with curtains left open allow lightning to illuminate the entire room, followed by a terrible, howl-like rumble.

That horrible noise seems to awaken you from the sort of trance you fell into while admiring the surely master bedroom, and you finally take serious note of the burning fire. Why a working fireplace in a castle uninhabited for years?

“To many the night brings counsel, to me it has brought a lovely maiden, I see...” you gasp surprised and terrified, turning toward the silky, warm, yet slightly hoarse, almost growling voice.

A relatively young man watches you with his shoulder resting against one of the stained glass windows. You had not seen him. No. He was not there before, you are absolutely sure.

His dark, shiny hair has been grown down to his neck, some curling around his sharp, elegant jaw, the neck left bare by his unbuttoned, white shirt is a set of sinuous, sharp, powerful lines. The soft black pants do nothing to hide the wonderful figure of his long legs, his feet are bare, you notice. He feels perfectly comfortable, as if... as if that were his home.

“I-I... I'm sorry, it's Halloween and some friends of mine thought...” you try to explain with your hands clasped to the skirt of your dress, but you are immediately interrupted by the man's sophisticated, sassy giggle.

“They thought it was a brilliant idea to violate my property?” you pale at his question.

“We... the whole town believes the castle is uninhabited,” you reply with a shy breath, trying to justify them.

The young man breaks away from the glass window, slowly approaching you, you take steps back, inadvertently bumping into one of the pillars of the bed.

“And does it look uninhabited to you, little girl?”

Little girl? By the look of him, he wouldn't seem that much older than you, in fact.

Now that he has moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, you notice details of his face that you did not catch a few moments earlier.

He has high, pronounced cheekbones, and his lips seem so plump and soft that you blush at the thought of kissing them, his nose is well-proportioned and straight, while the peculiar shape of his eyes gives him a rather sweet and angelic air, although the fun written in them is anything but angelic.

“I didn't know, I'm really sorry, sir,” and it's true, the last thing you want is to be a nuisance to someone you don't even know, “I'll get my friends back and we'll leave right away, I promise.”

Dark eyes rimmed with long eyelashes watch you closely, before dropping to the rest of your body. Suddenly you remember the deep cleavage of your witch's dress, your skin burning under his watchful gaze.

“Right now there is no one else in the castle, except you and me,” he approaches again, you can feel his warm breath meet your neck, you shiver as the man clasps one hand above your head, around the pillar of the bed, doing the same with the other. This makes it clear how statuesque his physique is, compared to your more petite one, you also catch a subtle citrus fragrance, light and not cloying, is that him?

With a huge effort, you process his words, widening your eyes. No one else?

“But how-”

“In my opinion you made it all up, little girl,” he sneers, "Just admit that it was your curiosity that drove you here," but you shake your head, vehemently denying it.

“I really came here with friends!” you fret, you've never been good at handling pressure and this guy is not helping you at all.

“Oh, really?” a devilish smile makes its way across his soft, smooth cheeks, "So it's just a coincidence that you're wearing this dress?" you don't know how to answer the question, you can't, not when he lowers a hand over you, brushes the outline of your face with a finger, trailing down the delicate line of your neck to your cleavage, your rippling, shivering skin longs to receive his touch once more, you struggle to recover.

“Th-this dress?” you stammer in shame, his finger is still grazing your chest and you are doing nothing to push it away.

“Mh-mh,” he nods, pushing your cleavage down a few millimeters, enough to make you squeak with red cheeks, “How much do you know about this castle and its owners, little girl?”

Nothing, you'd like to answer, but your eyes already communicate your answer as he pulls back, finally letting you breathe. His scent still hovers around you, though.

“Year 1479, the people of the town of Howl enter into an agreement with the seven lords of Midnight, ceding a part of their lands to these noble lords and agreeing to send a virgin once every ten years, on the so-called Halloween Night,” he narrates, leaving you speechless, “In return, none of the townspeople would be hunted down and killed, does that ring a bell?”

“L-Listen to me, I really don't know what you're talking about, I definitely have to go now,” you nod at your own words, but the door slams shut along with a new and terrible rumble, an anguished cry involuntarily leaving your throat.

“The dress you're wearing is soaked in poison, little girl” the imperious tone terrifies you, automatically your body closes in on itself, as a kind of protection.

“This must definitely be a joke, it is Halloween after all,” you whisper to yourself with tears in your eyes.

“It's a security, for us. It ensures that the girls don't run away, because we are the only ones who can neutralize that poison” you don't know why the man started speaking in plural, you just know that you have to leave, even though something inside you is screaming at you not to. Because it could end very badly.

“You'd better take it off, your body might absorb more poison than is really necessary, the sooner we start the better,” he sighs, beginning to take off his white shirt, showing off a well-built, smooth chest and abs studded with thin scars lighter than his skin, swallowing without any more salivation, following long lines of black ink that weave across his pecs, forming some kind of mark, perhaps related to some cult.

“What are you doing!”

The man tilts his head, his soft hair following the movement meekly, and grasps the edge of his pants, running his forefinger and thumb over it defiantly as he watches you, “I'm taking what was given to me, little girl,” he sneers again, not at all impressed by your shock.

It was not uncommon for him and his brothers to be served girls who were totally unaware of their own destiny, they were tiresome at times, they would not stop shaking and crying, praying not to be deprived of their purity, but you smell so delicious that it might make him go beyond your dullness.

The fabric of his excellent quality pants slowly flows over the flawless skin of his toned legs, the blood rushes straight to your cheeks, and your heart misses a beat with a strangled “iiih” as you realize that the stranger has not only freely undressed in front of you, but is not wearing any underwear.

You've certainly never seen a naked man in person, but based on your anatomy books, that is definitely not a normal penis.

With a strange feeling of dizziness and no little embarrassment, you realize that even at rest, it is definitely big, with a swollen base almost as big as perfectly round testicles and such obvious purplish veins that you wonder if it is actually already hard, in its own way. Could that vibrant pink be an indicator? God, what the hell are you thinking?!

After a little dizziness your eyes fly to the closed door, you have to leave, run.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks you, smiling with a hint of danger in his eyes, “Do you want to run? Run away from me? Know that this will only excite me more.”

You try to look away from his cock, with extreme difficulty, as he spoke, his cock had moved slightly, as if agreeing with the man's words. You ignore the slight jolt between your legs.

“If I can get through the gates of your property, will you let me go?” you propose almost shyly, staring into his sly eyes.

“Um... if I let you go, you'd die from the poison, but if that's what you want...” he shrugs, making you frown. The story of the poisoned dress might be bullshit to convince you to let him fuck you, but what if it's not?

You shake your head, it's all just a bluff. This man is clearly a pervert, maybe he gets off on fucking on such nights with stranger women.

“That's what I want.” you assure with a note of panic in your voice, the desire to escape is so urgent you can hardly think, “Open the door.”

But the man shakes his head, “Strip and I will leave you free to roam my lands until I find you.”

“I don't-!” the words die between your lips, his singsong expression gone, giving way to a sternness that clashes with his regal features, the difference making that contrast frightening.

“I like to play, little girl ... but I don't tolerate whining, don't make me angry, because I might decide to take you now, we have a bed available right here and now,” he hisses, clenching his fist against the polished wooden backboard of the four-poster bed. The more he looks at you, the more his balls throb fiercely; he's trying to control his desire; if his cock hardens, that's the end.

You're the first woman he's seen in 60 years, finally his turn has come, and there's no way he'll let you go. Do you want to play? He'll let you, but eventually you'll give in to his desires. The scent of your sweet virgin pussy makes his wolf growl, eager to get out to meet you.

Perhaps you sense something strange, because with trembling fingers you go to unbutton the side opening of your dress, a little sorry to him, the plunging neckline raises and shapes your breasts invitingly, though the stench of the poison with which it is imbued leaves him disgusted. An idea of humans to persuade chosen women not to flee, his eyes scroll over the ancient clock hanging above the door, the hands turn and you have just four hours to go before the poison takes effect, killing you. He would be sorry to see you die without having had a chance to taste you first.

“Tic-Tac, the clock is ticking, little girl... the slower you are, the more likely you are to die,” he informs you with a smile, your fear written all over his face igniting his loins; he has to restrain himself so he doesn't jump on you, and you're aware of that now, too.

Your eyes study his shoulders, they have stiffened noticeably, and with embarrassing speed you unfasten the last side button, letting the soft black fabric of your dress slip off like a veil, leaving you in your bra and panties. You start up under his eyes, which move to observe every nook and cranny of your body, from the soft breasts enclosed in the cups of the purple lace bra, going lower and lower, past the delicious curve of your hips to the tightly clasped mount of Venus covered by more purple lace. You yourself realize that for a man who wants to possess you, that kind of lingerie might make you look like a neatly wrapped gift in his eyes.

“Don't stop,” he tells you hoarsely, his eyes veiled with glowing lust.

The blood leaves your veins; if he were to take you, you would already be ready to receive him. As your fingers move to get rid of your bra as well, you realize you don't find it such a disturbing idea after all, even when you finally pull down the light fabric of your panties, showing off something no boy has ever had the honor of looking at, his nostrils flaring as if to inhale something in the air, you are aroused.

“You'd better start running, little girl, I'm going to give you exactly twenty seconds head start,” his voice comes out as a guttural sound, making you widen your eyes and really run, when the door suddenly opens wide.

You don't even wonder what strange contraption he used to close or open the door without having to physically do it, you just know you are definitely in danger.

Every nook and cranny of the castle is an unknown, he owns it, he may know passages unknown to you; therefore, you always try to wander the corridors with no visible openings. A tense, animalistic roar makes you scream in terror, with spirited eyes you look down the stairs, you are close to the stairs to the hall, the door has not been locked, you just need more time, you can make it.

You sling yourself barefoot down, almost tumbling from your haste and throw yourself out, skipping the stone steps and then to the wild path, short of breath and fear dictating your decisions, you remember it took you a good twenty minutes to get to the castle, but walking the whole path is out of the question, it would be too obvious and easy, you necessarily have to lengthen the path and consequently put in more time to get away from that terrifying place.

With horror you realize that you don't know where Glenn and Claire might be at all, would he hurt them if he found them?

Of course he would.

You don't know the man, but you have noticed all too well the bestial aura around him; he is someone capable of harm, and he will harm you if you cannot escape him.

Your feet step on scattered branches on the ground and you whimper trying to ignore the pain, another roar - or maybe it's a howl? - rips through the air, mingling with the howls of the rushing wind, and you stifle an anguished cry.

Scratches open along your body, trees ravaged by bad weather and never tended seem to want to block your way in every way possible, and the darkness certainly doesn't help.

Like a wounded animal you limp aimlessly, not imagining the hunger of the ravenous beast that sneers at the scent of your blood.

You feel tired, sluggish at times, your peripheral vision somewhat obscured, an excruciating doubt makes its way into your mind. Could it be that the story of the poisoned dress was true?

But why sell it to you, how could the seller have known that your friends would take you to that castle on Halloween night?

You begin to stagger, a sharp twinge in your head stops you, it is so painful that you collapse on the icy, muddy ground.

You realize you are screwed in every sense of the word when a weight suddenly crushes you to the ground, you scream in terror and wide-eyed, trying to shake it off.

Jimin doesn't think twice about clasping you in his vigorous arms, burying his nose on your neck damp with cold sweat, the accelerated beat of your heart rumbling in his own chest, driving him to moan with need. He presses himself against your soft curves, basking in your feverish warmth despite the stormy, icy night.

“Don't hurt me,” you shake your head with your eyes closed, trying to fight the unusual fatigue to plead with him, "Please, I was wrong, forgive me...I won't come back here again, I swear," the boy snorts against your flustered skin.

He reluctantly lifts himself up to allow you to turn toward him, you find some strength to open your eyelids wide, being invested by his sometimes divine appearance. His eyes, no longer as black as you thought they were, are tinged with an extraordinary shade of gold, he watches you from receptive pupils as you notice the grin on his mouth, a mouth larger than you remembered. There is something strange, not human, about him now. And despite the run he must have made to keep up with you, he doesn't have the slightest hint of fatigue in his breath, he's as fucking fresh as a newly bloomed rose.

“You're dying, little girl,” he hums, shaking some hair off your forehead, you lose a beat at the sight of long claws where once there were short, well-manicured nails.

The claw grazes your skin unhurriedly, you feel it scratch without hurting, you anxiously lick your lips closing your eyes, you are so sleepy that you even willingly accept your fate, Jimin snorts through his nose, almost laughing, before lowering himself onto your jugular.

It would be really easy for him to sink his canines into your flesh and bite your throat to rip it out, but fortunately for you he is not a vampire. All he wants is to sink his cock into your pussy and make you cum repeatedly, but if you died it would be hard to put his plan into action. He wants you alive and receptive.

He licks a long streak of saliva onto your delicate neck, heedless of the dirt that has stuck to your skin, before gently biting you. Your reaction is immediate, you start sobbing like a puppy at the feel of his fangs penetrating your flesh, you cling to his shoulders trying to move him weakly from you, and you kick awkwardly with your legs, legs that are locked in a vice grip by his. That way it is easy to feel something hard and heavy pressing against your belly, you try not to think about it as the man seems inebriated by the taste of your blood flowing straight down his throat.

The bitter taste of the poison is revolting, but fortunately your blood has such sweet notes that it counterbalances that horrendous taste in a balanced way, here, now he just has to lick your wound thoroughly. He collects the last rivulets of your blood with his tongue, before dripping his saliva into the tiny holes created by his sharp canines, little holes that begin to close with light smoke, cauterizing the wound and partly removing the poison toxins from your blood.

With no longer a grip on your throat, your head falls limply back to the ground, you gasp trying to fight off the shock of such an experience.

“Mpf!” his tongue invades your mouth treacherously, the taste of your blood making you squeal on his lips, so unfairly soft and pleasant to the touch. The hot and unusually long muscle pushes into your oral cavity eagerly, saving your life has as if awakened the more primal side of Jimin, one of the seven lords who unleashed hell in Howl's town. And the mating ritual has begun, but you cannot know this.

You break free by gasping for air, “W-why?” you stutter breathlessly, “You don't even know me!” you cry as you drive your nails into his forearms, triggering in return a reaction of possession in him, prompting him to grab your thighs and lift them onto his shoulders to your profound horror, he is so wild as he spreads your legs wide open to sink his face in between them that you can't utter a single breath.

As he runs his tongue along your pulsing, hot folds, Jimin realizes with nastiness that during your escape you got wet for him, he had smelled your arousal as he pursued you, on some people the quickened heartbeat has that effect, but the sweet and slightly salty taste of your juices are now a definitive proof for him. And you can't deny it, you love how he teases you by slowly sliding around your swollen clit, plays with it by holding it between his lips and then releasing it after sucking hard, almost biting it. He tortures it by pricking it quickly with the tip of his tongue and then returns to lapping your thick juices from the soft slit, which seems to melt every time that devilish tongue penetrates it, managing to lick and stimulate walls that a normal tongue could never reach.

You shyly move your pelvis against his face, your thighs stained with your arousal tremble against his cheeks, and a terrible heat makes you pant desperately. The man abandons your slit to push himself again against your unbearably sensitive folds, they are so moist that you can hear the noise they make every time that cursed tongue stimulates them to push a few millimeters toward your clitoris, never reaching to touch it.

“God!” you curse, suddenly reaching out an arm to grab his hair, not recognizing yourself when you desperately push him against your pussy, longing for the pleasure he was spoiling you with at first.

His arousal makes him grunt like a wounded animal as he sinks into your core with languid, sensual movements, rewraps your desperate clit with his lips and tongue before continuing with more direct, zigzagging movements, crushing it at times with the flat part of his tongue and then flicking it with the tip soon after. He would never stop kissing and licking you like that, his tensed cock vibrating each time he eats you up a little more, delightedly swallowing your juices, enjoying retrieving them each time they flow between your wide-open, rosy thighs. A clearer, liquid substance squirts slightly out of your slit, causing you to shake around his head, you clench your lower lip between your teeth with tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, you are instigating Jimin to pleasurably hurt you, and the funniest thing is that you don't even notice.

Finishing licking some of that shiny, transparent substance from your inner thigh, the boy moves up your body, biting slowly at the flesh of your belly and then higher and higher to the softness of your breasts, titillating a turgid nipple before pulling it between his lips.

“W-What are you doing to me?” you gasp, wishing he would never stop adoring and cuddling your body, why? Just moments before you were running from his clutches, why are you lifting your pelvis now, inviting him to take you as if you've been waiting for this all your life?

“Are you just...” he murmurs, before kissing your chin with his devilish lips, "Responding to your desire" he kisses your mouth again, an electric sensation forcing you to comply, chasing his tongue with yours, collapsing to the spicy taste that is now all over his mouth, your taste.

With half-closed eyes you realize that the dark lines of ink are moving, taking the shape of a wolf watching you, you have no way to comprehend the unsettling sensation that invades you. The man, with one hand pressed against your bare back, forces you to turn away without you having any say in the matter, you find yourself with your face to the ground and the wind blowing down your back, shivering under his fiery, golden eyes, your legs trembling from the effort to keep you on your hands and knees, fighting the sweet pain pulsing in your naked pussy.

“Now hold still, little girl,” he murmurs in your ear in a husky voice, sensuously pumping his cock with one hand, swollen veins pushing against his palm, which squeezes along the entire shaft to the base, then back to the thick tip from which he is already dripping his thick cum, "I need to get all the venom out of your pretty little body, am I right?" he sneers, positioning himself at your entrance.

You open your eyes wide, panic stifled by arousal, but it's still there nonetheless, clenching your fingers between the grass and damp earth, rubbing your knees against pebbles that make you moan in pain. The length of his cock begins to push against your slit, forcing it open for him, a choked cry leaves your throat, feeling your walls that, despite their wetness, struggle to let him in.

“You're still so tight,” hisses the man unfamiliar to you, "I must spoil you some more, huh?" he chuckles, sliding his hand between your legs, using his index finger to stimulate your throbbing bud, you gasp arching your back and raising your buttocks toward the man, who takes the opportunity to plunge his cock another inch into your entrance, which throbs and squeezes him rhythmically, almost making him lose control of the situation.

The sensation of the claw grazing your folds each time he presses and massages your swollen clitoris brings you almost to the edge, you feel a wild sexual desire, something you never experienced even during your teenage years, a crucial period of sexual development.

“Go ahead, please!” you exclaim breathlessly, pressing your forehead against the ground, every single millimeter that moves inside you without really penetrating you is like torture, your index finger moving languidly, and you're going fucking crazy.

“Are you really begging?” he teases you, you grit your teeth until it hurts, but finally you give in.

“Please... fill me, take me!”

“Do you want it?” he asks again, pulling the tip almost completely out, the only part he had managed to get in, you clench your legs desperately trying to recover what your intimacy has lost.

“Yes! I want it! I want your cock, I want it to fill me all the way, and I want it now!” you growl with an anger that burns under your skin, looking at him from behind, his face is an emotionless mask, but his eyes...oh, those never lie, you read the fire of desire in them, he's suffering that anticipation as much as you are. Bastard.

“You begged for it so well, little girl... I'll just have to satisfy you,” the cavernous tone clashes with his appearance, but it anticipates what happens next and leaves you breathless, abandoning your contracted clitoris he grips your hips tightly, almost penetrating your delicate flesh with his claws, pushing himself into you with a vigorous thrust, instantly breaking the thin membrane at your entrance, effortlessly. The burning that follows makes your eyes water, your body instinctively trying to escape the man's savage assault, suddenly realizing that you have lost your virginity that way, out in the open, sweaty and dirty, just like an animal.

The man on top of you hisses and makes strange deep sounds, inebriated by the sensation of his throbbing cock finally and completely squeezed between your trembling walls, trying to adjust to the abnormal size. You gasp whimpering, moving your pelvis trying to disentangle yourself from the overgrip, his claws are hurting you, but he doesn't seem to want to let go, not now that he is buried so deep.

With a grunt he thrusts out slightly, watching as your pussy instinctively clings to him, as your thick juices and virginal blood wet his entire length, lubricating him. Leaning toward you, he lets a long trickle of saliva fall back between your buttocks, slipping between them reaches the point where you are joined. He thrusts back into you forcefully, striking deeper and deeper, and you feel every detail of his cock penetrating you and thrusting higher and higher, touching points so delicate and sensitive that you howl meekly, like a she-wolf offering her whole self to her mate, the pain has been replaced by the need to be possessed, you move against his pubes with urgency, the thread of pleasure is getting thinner and thinner, you feel incredibly wet, practically soaked, and the sounds of your union are so obscene that you are shamefully aroused. Your walls flutter drunkenly with pleasure, at one point with the thick, red tip he manages to hit the entrance to your cervix with precision, you stiffen whimpering breathlessly, and Jimin collapses on top of you, continuing to move his hips tirelessly and with spellbinding sinuosity.

You take it so well that it is impossible for him not to want to have you again and again, throwing back his head to be hit by the moonlight that increases his desire, his pupils widen and he feels his testicles clench with urgency as the base of his cock swells, making him shake all over. Without a second thought, he begins to enter you with deeper and longer thrusts so that his whole cock sinks into you without any more constriction, he hears you panting and crying and this only causes him joy, you are completely abandoned to him and your sensations.

You're about to come, you're not so ignorant that you don't know what's happening to your body, you've even heard of intense orgasms, but this... god, this is going to be devastating, you know very well. It's nothing like the ones you had with masturbation, this one is deeper, snaking through your lower belly and you feel it in your uterus. You stiffen all over, trying to block the erection that keeps pinning you down between hard, sensual thrusts, every time it touches your cervix you risk going crazy.

“Don't stop me, little girl... It's here, isn't it?” he gasps at you, slamming into you once more, high up between the entrance of your uterus and another sensitive area that makes your clitoris and walls tear with intense pleasure, your toes curl and you can't help but nod desperately, "Alright, love," he replies without even realizing it, kissing your bare, sweaty shoulder, his knot is almost complete, but he wants you to come before he gives you his cum.

He teases a sensitive, turgid nipple with the tip of a claw as he reaches the point of your union, massaging your folds to help you come, though with a hint of naughtiness he doesn't dare touch your clitoris, he wants you to orgasm on your own, knowing that the intensity then will be greater and you will collapse weak and distraught in his arms.

“Oh, fuck-!” you widen your eyes, being hit by a pressing and beautiful sensation of jouissance, sucking him furiously into you amid tremors and searing waves of pleasure, the same clear liquid as before leaks from your slit, this time in a greater quantity, causing Jimin to grunt as he is run over by your jet, slamming into you almost brutally, streams of his cum fiercely fill your core, as if to mark you for life, and finally his knot swells completely, locking him inside you.

Although immobilized, he cannot stop coming, his testicles quivering violently, and only one thing could quell his aching desire. With his eyes now almost completely encompassed by the black pupil, he pushes your hair away from your neck, exposing your previously tortured skin.

“Why does this go on?” you ask feverishly, confused by the enormous weight widening your walls and locking his big cock into you.

“Sssh” he rubs the tip of his nose against you, making you shudder, "Just wait a little longer" his words are followed by an excruciating twinge, his grown canines penetrating like blades into your skin and sinking into your flesh amidst your shocked and submissive screams, your body surrendering to his force, instinctively submitting and waiting for him to finish marking.

Jimin loves blood, your blood, it pleasantly bathes his tongue with its density and sweetness, he moans with need as he loses himself in your scent, instinct commands him to move his hips once more, even though you are both locked together, with a weak moan you take in the last strings of his cum, resting possessively in your belly, you feel heavy and unbearably full, but at least he seems to be finished, you feel him relax as he once again licks the holes left by his teeth, healing them. He looks like a wolf cleaning up after his mate after mating.

“What are you?” you ask wearily, by now surrendering to the idea that the man cannot be a mere human, that probably everything he has told you, from the poison-soaked dress to the deal with the town, is real.

“Jimin” you hear him grunt at such a low frequency that if you hadn't been alone, you probably wouldn't have heard him. You snort weakly.

“I asked you what you are, not your name,” you murmur, the strange, heavy weight preventing you from moving, hissing as Jimin moves awkwardly between your legs, putting you in a more comfortable situation, letting you rest against his chest lethargically, occasionally kissing the back of your neck and licking your neck, or behind your ear.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like all that attention; you feel a delicious bite around your heart as you cling to his embrace, protected from the evening chill.

You don't know exactly how long you spend like this, maybe forty minutes, maybe an hour, the fact is that finally that thing between your legs seems to melt away, making you sigh almost strangely.

Jimin gently untangles himself from you, leaving your warm shelter slowly and with a feeling of emptiness that stuns you, your legs finally relax and you try to move them to regain some mobility, you feel his cum pushing to come out and two of his fingers enter you, plugging your entrance. No claws, you notice as he slowly turns you around.

You hiss at the burning, your knees are completely ruined, but Jimin begins to sprinkle them with kisses and saliva, the man is back between your thighs again, you can see his long, wild hair shining as he licks and sucks your skin from time to time, all the way to his fingers, he moves them slowly inside you and you twitch involuntarily, closing your eyes at the warmth of his tongue licking a thick streak of cum and juices dripping roughly from you, pushing it down to your hypersensitive clitoris and you moaning in pain.

“Don't do it,” you gasp, closing your legs tightly, but he doesn't give up, grabbing your chin between two fingers and forcing your mouth wide open, your heart faltering with a strange emotion, you let him spit all his creamy load into your mouth, running along your tongue with a surprised cry.

“Swallow,” he orders with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

You do as he tells you, wanting to please him in every way possible, accepting him back into your mouth for a slow, intimate kiss. It is also dominant and sweet, intense.

“I'm Jimin, a werewolf and also one of the masters of the castle,” he explains pushing you against his bare chest, you hug him back as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be there, clasped to him on a bed of dry leaves, "You are my mate, it's no accident that you were chosen ... being a virgin at your age is unusual for humans, but not for us wolves, you waited for me," he emphasizes with fire in his eyes.

“But ... my friends?” you can't help but ask, which makes him chuckle.

“My people have learned to be among humans, they recognized you by scent and led you to me at the right time, they are fine,” he informs you with a caress, “In fact, you should worry about yourself,” he says with a note of reproach.

“H-How?” fear advances again.

“I've waited too many years for your birth, little girl... it's time to repay the wait,” he hums as something hot and hard returns against your belly.

“Jimin, wai-!” too late, the tip of his cock captures your entrance again, this time with more ease and the next thrust has you writhing against him with tears in your eyes, “Oh, shit!”

© 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲𝐙𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 -  𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. || 𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[chimcess]

Pitch Black || jjk (1)

⮞ Chapter One: The Crash Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 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: 27.7k+ 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. 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, Alcohol Consumption A/N: First chapter means it's time for the fun to begin. Or in this case, the catastrophe. Thanks for reading!

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The steady hum of the Hunter-Gratzner was like a heartbeat—a constant, low thrum that seeped through Y/N’s boots and kept her anchored in the here and now. It was so familiar she hardly noticed it anymore—until it suddenly stopped. And that silence wasn’t peaceful. It was suffocating, the kind that squeezes the air out of your lungs and makes your skin crawl. Not something you ever want to hear in deep space.

Today, though, the hum was going strong, a comforting reminder that the Hunter-Gratzner was doing exactly what it was built to do. Y/N’s fingers moved across the console with quick, confident precision, like they’d been doing this forever. In a way, they had. After so many hours in the pilot’s seat, it felt less like she was guiding the ship and more like she was part of it—a living extension of its circuits and steel.

A burst of static from the Kordis 12 radio broke her concentration. Flight control’s clipped voice cut through the hiss. “Hunter-Gratzner here,” she answered. “Cleared the last planetary marker.” “Copy that, Hunter-Gratzner,” came the calm reply. “You’re in the primary shipping lanes and cleared for main engine burn. Have a good sleep, H-G. Silas, out.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. Her hand tightened on the lever, then she eased it forward. The reactor’s purr deepened into a low, resonant rumble that pulsed through the ship like some ancient predator settling in for a nap. The ride was smooth—remarkably so, given the sketchy charts of the Tangiers System. No stray debris, no glitches, no pirates lurking in the dark.

Her gaze flicked to the console, scanning the numbers until they leveled off. She did a quick mental calculation of her cut: half a percent. Not much, but enough. Every run, every ton of cargo, chipped away at her debts and nudged her further from the past she was trying to outrun. Out here, in the cold black of space, it was all about survival.

Twenty-eight weeks to New Mecca. That was a long, lonely stretch—but Y/N liked it that way. The emptiness suited her. When the rest of the crew went into stasis, it left her with time to think... or not think. To forget. Forget the faces, the regrets, the ghosts.

She leaned back, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic of her synth coffee mug. The bitter taste brought her back down to earth—figuratively speaking. Moments like this, with the ship’s hum in her bones and the console lights glowing softly, made the universe feel almost small and manageable. But even then, those nagging questions crept in.

Is this enough? Enough to change her life? To change her?

She pushed the doubts aside, focusing on the faint pinpricks of light scattered across the viewport. This was why she chose this path. Not many women signed up for these long-haul routes—months of isolation, heavy responsibility, and even heavier risks. Most took safer roles: cooking, medical, logistics. But not her. She wanted the pilot’s seat, the chance to earn her crew’s trust while hurtling them through the void.

And she’d done it. Earned it the hard way. Respect wasn’t handed out; you had to wrestle it into submission with grit and skill. She remembered the sneers at the academy, the snide comments. They only fueled her determination. By the time she graduated from Helion Prime’s technical college, she wasn’t just “that dock rat.” She was Y/N Y/L/N, Docking Pilot.

Her uncle had been the first to call her that, pride shining in his eyes even as he teased her. “Docking Pilot,” he’d say, guiding her hands over the controls of his beat-up transport. “You’ll go places, kid. Farther than I ever did.”

Back then, Helion Prime had felt like the whole world—shimmering dunes, scorching heat, and so much promise. She’d started in botany, thinking maybe helping things grow would heal something inside her. But the cockpit’s call was louder. Flight school swept her up, derailing her neat little plan.

That’s when she met Jimin Park. His grin could slice through any tension, but it was his quiet steadiness that really grounded her. Like her, he understood loss. They clicked right away—two orphans forging a bond without needing words. He was practically family, so much so that her uncle took to calling him “nephew” without hesitation.

When NOSA balked at hiring a “Helion Five girl,” Jimin used his connections. His voice carried weight on Aguerra, a place where religion was considered outdated and logic reigned. Helion Prime’s faith clashed with that worldview, but Jimin made them see beyond prejudices. He landed her an interview with Director Min, and Yoongi—sharp-eyed and no-nonsense—saw her raw talent for what it was: resourceful, adaptable, unbreakable under pressure.

Joining the Starfire crew felt like coming home. She still missed them all—Jimin’s steady humor, Armin’s wild Earth stories, Hoseok and Val’s constant flirting. They were a real team, which was a rare thing in the vacuum of space. But then came the promotion offer.

Co-pilot. Better pay. Easier hours. The catch? Leaving the Starfire.

It had seemed like the practical move. But practicality doesn’t fill the aching void left by Jimin’s laugh or Armin’s tall tales. It doesn’t replace that sense of belonging you’ve finally found and then walked away from.

Now the reactor’s low rumble hummed in her bones as she stared into the endless night. Choices. They always caught up with her in the dark, when everything was still except the glow of the console and the distant stars. Had she chosen right? Or had she traded too much for the hum of this ship and the lonely stretches of black it carried?

She thought of Koah, how he could turn even the most routine haul into a story worth hearing—always full of humor and heart. He made every shared meal feel like an adventure. They’d built something special, too—trust forged in danger and laughter, in moments where they looked out for each other no matter what.

And now? Now she was stuck with Greg fucking Shields.

Shields wasn’t just a bad fit—he was the kind of guy who turned the atmosphere sour the second he walked in. Even the simplest tasks became ordeals under his watch, every word dripping with smugness and spite. Koah had been the glue that held them all together, but Shields felt more like a dead weight dragging them down.

“Passengers are tucked in,” he announced, swaggering onto the bridge with that grating, self-satisfied tone. “All set for the long night.”

Y/N didn’t look up, her fingers gliding over the console with practiced ease. “Coordinates locked?” she asked, voice clipped and all business.

“Getting to it,” he drawled, dragging out the words just enough to poke at her nerves.

She refused to take the bait, though her patience was already thinning. Shields finally tapped in the last sequence, and the console beeped its confirmation.

“Don’t rush me, Fry,” he sneered, throwing out the nickname like an insult, smirking as if daring her to react. “You want me to fly us into a black hole?”

Her jaw tightened, her hands pausing on the controls. Fry. Once upon a time, that name brought warm memories—Uncle Sean calling her from the docks with pride in his voice. But Shields had a knack for twisting it into something ugly.

Then he muttered, “bitch,” just loud enough for her to hear. It was the last straw.

“You’ve got your coordinates,” she said, her voice low and controlled, like the calm before a storm. “Lock them in and get off my bridge.”

Shields opened his mouth, ready to spew more venom, but a gravelly voice cut him off.

“Greg.”

Captain Marshall’s tone carried an authority that left no room for argument. It was deep, steady, and edged with enough menace to make Shields recoil.

“Take a walk. Now.”

Shields hesitated, clearly tempted to protest. But one look at Marshall’s face made him think better of it. With stiff shoulders, he muttered something under his breath and stomped off, the hatch hissing shut behind him.

Marshall turned to Y/N, the corners of his beard twitching in a half-smile. “You good, Frenchie?” he asked, using the nickname she actually liked.

She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. “I’m fine, Cap. Thanks.”

He nodded, studying her for a moment before leaning against the console. “Shields is a pain in the ass,” he said, his voice dropping to a more casual tone. “Don’t let him get under your skin. If he keeps this up, he’ll be shown the airlock soon enough.”

She let out a dry laugh. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Believe it,” Marshall said with a growing grin. “But don’t think you’re off the hook, Frenchie. I need you sharp. And because I’m feeling generous, I’ll spare you the disco tonight.”

She groaned theatrically, rolling her eyes. “Finally! Your music tastes are borderline criminal, Cap.”

“It’s a cultural treasure,” he protested, feigning offense.

Their shared laughter cut through the tension, if only for a moment. It reminded Y/N of easier days—back on the Starfire, before hard decisions and new regrets made everything more complicated.

22 Weeks Later

The ship’s hum had always felt like part of her—it was in her bones. Most of the time, she forgot it was there. You only noticed it when it vanished, and that’s usually when panic kicked in and you started praying. But for Y/N, there wasn’t any warning. She didn’t even get a chance to register the silence before the chaos hit.

Her cryo-locker hissed open and spat her onto the deck as if the ship itself was rejecting her. The air felt like a slap—icy, metallic, and stinking of burnt circuits. Alarms shrieked, overlapping and piercing, and her muscles, still useless from cryo-sleep, gave out beneath her. She landed hard, arms barely stopping her face from hitting the cold metal floor.

The Hunter-Gratzner groaned, a deep, agonized sound like the big beast it was had finally given up. Gravity shouldn’t have been working, but it yanked her sideways anyway. Flickering lights threw erratic shadows across the twisted wreckage of the corridor—jagged metal, ruptured walls, and beyond the cracked viewport, a faint orange glow flickered like a distant fire.

Y/N forced herself up, hands shaking so badly she could barely grip the frost-encrusted console. She was cold, nauseous, and terrified, but a single thought pounded in her head:

Get up. Get up.

She wobbled onto unsteady feet, nearly gagging on the hot, chemical stink clinging to the air. Fighting the urge to panic, she staggered toward the nearest cryo-locker. Inside, the plexiglass was smashed, shards clinging to the frame. Blood streaked the interior in frozen arcs, and the body inside—someone she might’ve known—was crumpled and horribly bent. She tore her eyes away, throat burning with bile.

There had to be survivors. There had to be.

Movement flickered in the next locker. Heart hammering, she rushed over and wiped the frost from the glass. Inside, the Captain was stirring, breathing shallowly but alive. Relief hit her like a jolt of adrenaline.

She slammed her hand against the intercom. “Cap’n, can you hear me? The hull’s compromised—it’s holding, but barely. Thank God you’re alive. Hold on, I’m gonna pop your E-release. Red handle—pull it once I clear it, got it?” Her voice came out fast, shaky. “I’ll try to get the warm-ups running—”

Then she heard it: a sharp, staccato crack. Phat-phat-phat. Thin contrails streaked through the air. A heartbeat later, the Captain’s chest exploded, spraying blood across the cryo-glass. Shards of plexiglass and metal blew outward, embedding in the walls. He jerked once, twice, then slumped, his eyes going dark as sparks shot from the ruined console.

Y/N reeled back, hand over her mouth. She’d been staring right at him—and now he was—

A sudden hiss behind her made her spin around, heart hammering. Another cryo-locker flew open, and a man tumbled out, crashing into her. They both hit the deck in a heap, limbs flailing.

“Why the hell did I just fall on you?” he wheezed, scrambling to get off her. He was clearly still half out of it from cryo-sleep.

“The Captain’s dead,” she blurted, voice rasping. “I was looking right at him when—” She stopped, fighting off the horrific images. “The hull’s shot. Shields are gone. We’re—”

“Wait!” His voice jumped an octave, eyes darting around. “Not Shields! No, no, that can’t—” He stared at her, then pointed to himself in confusion. “I’m Shields, right?”

For a moment, she just stared. Then a short, bitter laugh escaped her. “Cryo-sleep,” she muttered. “Fries your brain. Every damn time.”

Shields nodded, looking shell-shocked. “Sure does.” Then his eyes slid over her shoulder, and he went pale.

Y/N didn’t have to turn around to know something was there. The air felt different—colder, heavier, and alive with a presence that made her skin crawl. Fear twisted in her gut, relentless.

“Get dressed,” she snapped, snatching a warm-up suit from a storage compartment and thrusting it at him. Her voice shook, but her hands were already flying over the console, checking readings.

“Fifteen-fifty millibars,” she muttered. “Dropping twenty a minute. Dammit, we’re bleeding air. Something nailed us, and it wasn’t gentle.”

Shields clutched the suit like it was the only thing keeping him alive, his hands trembling. “Tell me we’re still in the shipping lane,” he begged. “Tell me it’s just stars out there—endless stars.”

Static crackled on the display as Y/N keyed in commands, her heart pounding. When the screen finally cleared, her stomach twisted. Not stars. Not the vast, empty black she’d hoped for. Instead, a planet loomed—huge, angry, its atmosphere swirling with bruised shades of purple and gray, like a living storm ready to devour them.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed, the words dropping from her lips like lead.

Then the ship lurched, starting its fall. It began with a savage, grinding howl as the Hunter-Gratzner tried and failed to fight gravity. Metal tore, supports snapped, and the deck tilted under her feet. She lurched forward, scraping her hands on the jagged edge of a console. Smoke stung her eyes, the acrid stench of burning wires filling her lungs.

Through the viewport, the planet’s churning atmosphere rushed up to meet them, a hungry predator closing in. Too close. Too fast. She forced herself to move despite the slanting corridors and the crushing pull of gravity.

Her headset crackled: Shields’ panicked voice cut through the screech of alarms. “They taught you this in training, right? Frenchie? Please tell me you remember the drills!”

She couldn’t answer. She could hardly think. Her surroundings blurred—frost-coated walls, blood smears, cables sparking overhead as she staggered through. By the time she reached the flight deck, she half-collapsed into the pilot’s seat, vision spinning.

Sweat slicked her fingers as she fumbled with the harness. She muttered curses under her breath until, finally, the clasps locked. Slamming her fist against the console, she prayed the failing systems would cooperate one last time. Damaged panels flickered, crash shutters groaning open to reveal the storm outside.

It was like staring into a swirling cauldron—red and gray clouds boiling in pure rage. They weren’t just falling; they were plunging, yanked down by forces well beyond her control. Her hands moved on instinct, flipping switches and twisting knobs in a frantic attempt to steer them out of this dive.

“Crisis program…” Shields’ voice came again, high-pitched and unsteady. “We’ve still got oxygen—fifteen hundred millibars. Surface pressure… oh, God.” He paused, his words faltering. “Maybe the ship’s in a good mood? For once?”

She pictured him cowering at his station, knuckles white, fear bleeding through every syllable. It spiked her own terror.

“Shields,” she croaked, her throat raw. “Focus.”

The stick suddenly jerked in her hands, fighting her attempts to level out. A faint hiss sounded, followed by a dull, bone-rattling thunk that echoed through the cabin like doom itself.

“Frenchie?” Shields’ voice cracked. “What the hell are you doing?”

The jettison doors were sliding shut. Her hand moved almost of its own accord, toggling latches with icy precision. Her thumb hovered over the switch that would shift the ship’s center of gravity—along with its passengers. She trembled, staring at the storm outside. She could practically feel Shields’ stare burning into her.

“Too much weight,” she said, voice taut as a wire about to snap. “I can’t keep the nose up. If I don’t—”

“You mean the passengers,” Shields interrupted, his breath hitching. “Forty people, Frenchie.”

Her jaw locked. “So we both go down? Out of some noble gesture?”

The silence that followed was worse than any alarm. It pressed in on her, suffocating, while outside, the storm raged. Her thumb quivered on the switch, a cold piece of metal that felt like an executioner’s blade.

She could practically feel the planet’s pull, like a weight on her chest. She imagined the look on Shields’ face—disbelief, maybe betrayal. She couldn’t bring herself to look back.

The ship’s hum, once so comforting, was gone—replaced by the wail of stressed metal and piercing sirens.

“Don’t,” Shields whispered, his tone stripped bare. It wasn’t a command or a plea. It was the broken voice of someone who already knew how this could end.

Her head dropped, a ragged sob or curse catching in her throat—she couldn’t tell which. The planet was swallowing them whole, the shaking and roaring all around an echo of the turmoil inside her. Forty lives weighed on her, crushing her soul.

With a sudden cry, she pounded her fist on the console, rattling loose screws and broken panels. The switch remained untouched.

The cryo-lockers hissed open in unison, a sound too serpentine, too alive. Frost curled over the plexiglass, twisting into vaporous tendrils that slithered toward the dim lights overhead. The ship shuddered. The deck groaned beneath the weight of its own failing systems.

Lee stirred inside his locker, fingers sluggish as they wiped at the frost. His thoughts felt submerged, murky, as if he were rising from a deep-sea dive. The overhead fluorescents flickered erratically, throwing jagged shadows across the metal walls. Something was wrong.

Across the aisle, Jungkook moved—slow, deliberate. The black goggles strapped over his eyes made him unreadable, but the sharp glint of metal between his teeth turned his grin into something feral. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The tension in his frame said everything.

Lee’s gaze snapped to the digital display blinking outside his locker. LOCK-OUT PROTOCOL IN EFFECT. ABSOLUTELY NO EARLY RELEASE. His stomach clenched.

Farther up the cabin, Y/N’s hands gripped the controls so tightly her knuckles blanched. The fractured monitors cast sickly light over her face, her breath coming fast and sharp. Behind her, Shields paced in tight, frantic circles, like a caged animal sensing a coming storm.

“Frenchie,” he barked, voice ragged with barely leashed panic. “NOSA—”

Y/N spun, eyes flashing. “NOSA isn’t here.” Her words cut like a scalpel, slicing clean through the rising chaos.

Shields froze, his lips pressing into a hard line. “The captain’s dead,” he said. No ceremony, no buffer. Just the truth. “That makes you in charge.”

Her laugh was bitter, jagged. “In charge?” Her fist slammed against the console, the impact like a gunshot. “You think a few hundred hours in a simulator prepped me for this?”

Shields unbuckled his harness, rising slow. Deliberate. “Don’t touch that switch,” he warned. His voice was even. Dangerous.

Y/N’s thumb hovered over it, sweat slicking her skin. The ship lurched. A shriek of metal tore through the cabin. Sparks rained down like dying stars. Her pulse hammered. And then—she slammed the switch.

“I’m not dying for them,” she muttered.

The Hunter-Gratzner bucked hard, carving a fiery scar across the sky as it plummeted. The hull shrieked. The jettison system hissed—then fell silent.

Nothing happened. The cryo-lockers remained sealed. Y/N’s breath caught. The switch was flipped, the call made. But the ship had refused her. Forty lives still frozen in limbo.

Shields cursed, hands a frantic blur over the interface. “Seventy seconds! You’ve got seventy seconds to level this beast out, Frenchie!”

She didn’t answer. Her focus tunneled in, every move muscle memory now. Switches flipped. Levers yanked. The ship groaned in protest, but she forced it to obey, wrenching it into some semblance of control.

Through the fractured windshield, the planet’s surface loomed—a maze of jagged rock, waiting to devour them whole. A metallic screech—louder than anything before—split the air as an airbrake tore loose, slamming into the windshield. The impact spiderwebbed the glass, splintering light into chaotic shards. The ship spasmed.

“What the hell was that?!” Shields’ voice was barely a breath through the comm.

Y/N didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked to the ground-mapping display—fractured, glitching, but still her only hope.

Sixty meters.

The cockpit rattled. The frame howled. Her hands were cramping, locked in a death grip on the controls.

Thirty.

The cryo-lockers exhaled in unison, a chorus of ghosts awakening. Lee blinked against the mist, lungs burning.

Ten.

The ship screamed. And then—impact.

The world didn’t just break. It detonated. The windscreen imploded, glass bursting inward like a thousand tiny daggers. The shockwave slammed Y/N back against her seat, her harness biting into her ribs. The cockpit filled with dust and debris, a choking maelstrom that turned every breath into a struggle.

In the passenger bay, Lee’s cryo-locker ejected with a violent hiss, spitting him onto the wreckage-strewn floor. His lungs seized as he gasped for air, mind reeling. Sparks flickered, casting eerie, broken light over the twisted remains of the ship.

His gaze caught on a massive crack splitting the hull—a wound too deep, too final.

Then—the groan. Deep, reverberating. A death knell. And the tearing.

A whole section of the ship peeled away, sliding free like dead skin. Rows of cryo-lockers went with it, vanishing into the swirling dust outside. Forty lockers. Forty people. Gone.

Shields’ voice crackled in Lee’s ear, raw, shaking. “We’re still breathing,” he rasped. “Oxygen’s holding at fifteen hundred millibars. Surface pressure… survivable.”

The word sounded like a joke. Lee pushed himself upright, legs shaking, ears ringing. The air was thick with the stench of scorched metal, blood, death. Around him, cries of pain cut through the chaos—some sharp and frantic, others weak, fading.

Jungkook’s cryo-locker was open. Empty. A slow, insidious chill climbed up Lee’s spine. His fingers darted to his hip, searching for his holster—gone. The unease slithered deeper, turning his gut into a leaden knot. He raised his flashlight, the beam cutting jagged arcs through the dust-choked air.

Then—a sound. Metal on metal. Rhythmic. Deliberate. Chains. The hairs on Lee’s neck stood on end. His breath shallowed. Slowly, unwillingly, he turned toward the noise. Two feet lowered into view from the shadows above—bare, bound in chains that whispered with each measured step.

His descent was too smooth, too unnatural. The black goggles strapped over his eyes caught the flickering light, cold and alien. The bit clamped between his teeth forced his mouth into something almost feral—not quite human.

Lee barely had time to react. The chain lashed toward him, a whip of coiled steel snapping tight around his throat. He staggered, hands clawing at the cold metal cutting off his air. Jungkook moved with silent precision, tightening the chain with a slow, measured pull. The darkness swayed. Lee’s vision blurred at the edges.

No. Not like this.

His fingers fumbled for the baton at his side. A flick—snap—and it extended, steel glinting in the fractured light.

Swing.

The first strike glanced off Jungkook’s ribs. No reaction. The second hit harder, enough to make the chain slacken just a fraction—enough to breathe. Lee’s instincts took over. He drove the baton up, hard, straight into Jungkook’s throat.

The force sent them both crashing to the floor. The impact rattled the remnants of the ship around them, a chorus of groaning metal and falling debris. Lee pinned Jungkook down, pressing his forearm hard against his throat. His breath was ragged, raw.

“One chance,” he growled, voice rough with fury. “You blew it.”

The dust began to settle. The ship around them was barely holding together—a skeletal ruin of scorched steel and shattered glass. Then, Lee’s flashlight caught a flicker of movement—a woman. He recognized her from when they boarded. The co-pilot. Her name was lost on him. Blood streaked her face, hair matted to her forehead, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. But she was breathing.

“Over here,” she rasped. Steady. Unbreakable.

Lee stumbled toward her, boots crunching over shattered wreckage. He crouched, hands moving instinctively, shoving aside the debris pinning her down. The ship groaned with each piece he wrenched free, as if it resented his efforts.

And then—her legs were free. He hauled her up, her weight solid against him, but she barely found her footing before the reality of their situation slammed into her. Not just broken. Annihilated.

Her knees buckled. She sank, hands clawing at the scattered wreckage as if she could piece it all back together. Her lips parted. “Shields.” A whisper.

Then, frantic movement. She shoved aside jagged fragments of steel, shattered screens, the torn remains of the captain’s chair—anything, everything standing between her and what she already knew she’d find.

And then—she did. Strapped to his chair. A metal rod—long, jagged—pierced straight through his chest, impaling him like some grotesque marionette. Blood seeped in slow, dark rivers, pooling beneath him.

His eyes flew open. Wide. Wild. Panic-stricken. “OUT!” His scream ripped through the air. “GET IT OUT OF ME!”

Y/N jerked back, breath hitching. Around her, the others stumbled into the nav-bay, voices colliding in chaotic bursts.

“Pull it out!”

“No, leave it! You’ll kill him!”

“We don’t have a choice—just do it!”

The noise. The suffocating stench of blood and scorched wiring. It all pressed in, a heavy, cloying thing clawing at her senses. Her eyes flicked to the wall—where the med-locker should have been. Gone. Nothing left. Her pulse spiked. No anestaphine. No painkillers. Nothing. But she knew that already. She knew.

Her mind snapped into triage mode, training she hadn’t used since she’d first boarded the Starfire. The H-G had small med kits—scattered across compartments, emergency supplies meant for minor injuries, burns, fractures. Enough for patchwork. Not for this.

A quick scan of the room told her where they were—one in the overhead hatch, another tucked beneath the paneling by the nav station. She didn’t move. Didn’t go for them. Because she knew. Shields was going to die.

It didn’t matter if she used the last of their coagulants, their sterile dressings, their dwindling supply of stim injectors. The rod had pierced deep—a lung, maybe his aorta. If they pulled it, he’d bleed out in seconds. If they left it, he’d drown in his own blood.

There was no saving him. Silence crashed over them. Shields’ breathing was slowing, each rasping gasp a grim countdown. Y/N straightened. Her voice dropped—low, steady. Cold.

“Everyone. Back.”

The others froze, hesitated—then stepped away, shuffling like ghosts. Only Lee lingered. His gaze flicked to Jungkook’s bound form in the corner. Even shackled, Jungkook radiated menace, his stillness more unnerving than motion ever could be.

Y/N barely registered him. Her focus was on Shields. His body trembled beneath her hands, breath thin, ragged. She pressed her palm just above the wound, steadying him. He was shaking. Not from pain. From fear.

His eyes locked onto hers, searching—desperate. “I can’t die like this.”

The words were barely a whisper. Her throat tightened. “You won’t,” she lied. Because that’s what you did for the dying. You gave them something to hold onto. Even if it wasn’t real. She tightened her grip on his hand, let her voice drop to something softer. “This is going to hurt,” she murmured.

The suns hit like a clenched fist, brutal and unrelenting. Twin orbs, one molten red, the other a vicious yellow, scorched the sky and stretched jagged, overlapping shadows across the cracked, barren earth. The heat wasn’t just heat—it was something alive, something with teeth, pressing in, coiling tight around their throats, stealing breath with every shallow inhale. The air was dry, acrid, thick with dust that swirled at their boots, carried by a wind that keened through the desolation like a dying thing whispering its last confession.

The survivors stood in uneasy clusters, their movements wary, shapes distorted against the shimmering horizon. No one strode forward with confidence. Every step was measured, hesitant—like the planet itself might open its mouth and swallow them whole if they made the wrong move.

Daku and Bindi stood apart from the rest, a fortress of two. Daku was stillness carved from stone, his sharp gaze sweeping the alien expanse with the quiet calculation of a man who had survived worse. Bindi, by contrast, was all coiled energy, lean muscle stretched taut over bone, every movement precise. Not panicked. Just prepared.

Peter lingered at the edge of the group, dabbing at his sunburned face with a monogrammed handkerchief that belonged in a boardroom, not here. He let out a brittle, humorless laugh. “Welcome to paradise.” His voice was thin, dry as the air, and it barely made it past his chapped lips. No one laughed. There was no room for humor here.

In the distance, the wreckage of their ship lay sprawled against the cracked earth like the carcass of some great, wounded beast. Twisted metal jutted at odd angles, blackened from the crash, half-buried in the dust like the bones of something the sky had spit out and abandoned. It was silent now, but it didn’t feel still. It felt like it was waiting.

Inside, Y/N moved through the ruins, hands working mechanically, searching through the wreckage for anything salvageable. The silence pressed against her like a second atmosphere—thick, oppressive, wrong. The ship had once been their salvation. Now it was nothing more than a graveyard.

Near the wreckage, the Chrislams had gathered in a tight circle, white robes stark against the dust-streaked ground. Their heads were bowed, their lips moving in silent prayers—or grief. It was hard to tell which. Namjoon stood at their center, broad shoulders squared, his presence anchoring them even as doubt flickered across the younger pilgrims’ faces. Their hands fidgeted at the wooden crosses and crescent pendants hanging from their necks, symbols of faith that suddenly felt like relics of a world too far away to matter anymore.

A boy, no older than fifteen, broke the silence, his voice raw with desperation. “Which way is New Mecca?” His hands were pressed together, pleading. “We need to know where to pray.”

The words hung in the air, weightless, useless. There was no north here. No compass points. No stars to guide them. Just endless wasteland stretching toward an indifferent horizon. Jagged hills clawed at the sky like broken teeth, dark silhouettes against the searing light.

Namjoon lifted his face, squinting against the blinding suns, searching for something—an answer, a direction, a sign. But the sky gave him nothing.

Lee fumbled with a battered compass, flicked it open, watched the needle spin uselessly before snapping it shut with a frustrated hiss. “Even this thing’s lost.” He shoved it back into his pocket.

The ship groaned behind them, a deep, wounded sound, like something exhaling its last breath.

Inside, Y/N sat on the scorched floor, her back pressed against cold metal. Shields’ body was cradled in her lap, his head resting against her chest. The rod that had impaled him was still there—a grotesque, final punctuation mark. His blood was thick and dark against her hands, its metallic tang heavy in the air.

She had tried. God, she had tried. She had shouted orders, whispered reassurances, prayed to gods she never believed in. But none of it had been enough.

The others had moved on, their voices distant through the ruined hull. But Y/N stayed.

Because this wasn’t just a wreckage. It was a grave. And she was the only mourner.

The twin suns poured their merciless light through the jagged tear in the hull, turning dust into molten gold. It shimmered, beautiful in the way cruel things often were—dazzling, deceptive. The light exposed everything. Every failure, every flaw. There was nowhere to hide.

Y/N shifted, her muscles trembling, stiff with exhaustion as she eased Shields’ body to the floor. Her fingers lingered at his shoulder, unwilling to sever that last, fragile tether to the man he had been. The warmth was already leeching from his skin.

Then, slowly, she rose.

Outside was worse.

The heat struck like a hammer, thick, oppressive, pushing against her lungs with every breath. Dust swirled in restless eddies at her feet, the wind sharp as glass, carving at her skin, splitting her lips. A few yards away, the Chrislams knelt in the dirt, heads bowed, lips moving in murmured prayers. Their voices were barely a ripple against the keening wind, but it was the only human sound left in this place. For a moment, she let it fill the cracks inside her, a balm against the unraveling edges of her sanity.

Lee stood apart, one hand raised to shield his eyes against the glare. His jaw was tight, his shoulders locked, a silent fortress against whatever storm raged inside him. When Y/N stepped down from the wreckage, his gaze flicked to her, brief but cutting. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. Some things didn’t need to be said.

The land stretched before them, vast, indifferent. Jagged hills rose like broken ribs, their peaks tearing into the sky. Shadows pooled in the valleys, deep and impenetrable, as though the planet itself was swallowing the light. There was no refuge. No soft place to land. Only the brutal reality of survival.

Y/N swallowed against the rawness in her throat. “We’re on our own now.”

The words weren’t a revelation. They were a sentence.

No rescue was coming. No help would break through this alien sky.

She squared her shoulders beneath the weight of it, forcing one foot in front of the other, because the only way out was forward. Even when everything inside her begged to turn back.

The suns glared down, merciless and unblinking, turning the wreckage into a molten skeleton of what it had once been. Heat shimmered off the twisted metal, a feverish mirage making the debris seem like it was still shifting, still alive. But it wasn’t. It was dead—just like the people who hadn’t made it out.

Y/N climbed the jagged remains of the hull, her boots slipping against scorched metal, her fingers gripping the torn edges of a fractured panel. Her muscles ached, her breath came too short, too shallow. The air was too thin. Too dry. It scraped against her throat like sandpaper, and every inhale felt like a battle she was losing.

Below, the Chrislams knelt in the dust, their white robes dirtied and torn but still stark against the wasteland. Their soft prayers were barely audible over the dry, keening wind—a thread of humanity in a place that had none. Y/N let it wash over her for just a moment, a faint tether to something beyond survival.

Further up the wreckage, the others waited—Lee, Peter, Daku, Bindi, Leo. Their faces were carved with exhaustion, their silence heavier than the heat pressing down on them. Smoke curled from the wreckage behind them, black tendrils rising into the hazy sky. The crash had scarred the earth itself, leaving a deep trench of twisted metal and scorched rock, a wound with no hope of healing.

Y/N reached the top of the wreckage and let her gaze sweep the horizon. The planet stretched out before them in a wasteland of jagged rock and dust, the ground cracked and splintered like old bone. Sharp-edged hills rose in the distance, their peaks like broken teeth against the sky. There was no movement. No color. No life.

Only death, waiting for its turn.

“No one else made it,” she said, her voice low, steady. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even an observation. It was a fact, as solid as the wreckage beneath her feet.

Silence stretched between them until Lee finally spoke, his voice dry and edged with bitterness. “They said there’d be a scouting party here.” He gestured toward the empty valley below, his words laced with grim sarcasm. “Guess they forgot the welcome committee.”

Peter coughed, dabbing at his sunburned face with that ridiculous monogrammed handkerchief. “Lovely spot,” he muttered. “Really. I mean, who doesn’t love the sensation of their lungs turning to parchment? Very exotic. Five stars.”

Y/N barely acknowledged him. Her focus was on the facts. The data. “The air’s too thin,” she said, voice clipped, clinical. “Not enough oxygen. Our bodies aren’t used to it. We’ll adjust, but it won’t be comfortable.”

Leo wiped sweat from his forehead, his face pale despite the heat. “Feels like breathing through a straw,” he muttered.

Peter waved his handkerchief dramatically. “Asthmatic here. Literal hell. Can I file a complaint, or is that not an option?”

“Enough,” Daku said, his voice cutting through the noise. His stance was firm, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked onto Y/N. “What happened?”

Y/N exhaled, rolling her shoulders against the weight of the question. “Debris. A rogue comet. A navigational error. I don’t know.” The admission felt like acid on her tongue. “What matters is that we’re here.”

“And alive,” Bindi added. Her tone was even, but there was something behind it—reluctant gratitude. “You got us down. That’s more than most pilots could have done.”

The words stung. Not because they were meant to, but because they weren’t true. Y/N knew that. They thought she’d saved them. But she knew better.

It wasn’t skill that had brought them down in one piece. It was luck. And luck never lasted.

She led them into what remained of the equipment bay, stepping over shattered panels, ducking beneath dangling wires. The air was thick with the scent of burned circuits and something else—something metallic and bitter. Blood.

Failure.

She knelt by a pile of debris and yanked free a suit, its fabric stiff with scorch marks. It would have to do. Holding it up, she said, “Liquid oxygen canisters. We rip them out. Short bursts, make them last. We don’t know how long we’ll need them.”

The group moved into action, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of survival. Leo lingered near her, watching her with an unsettling calm.

“Is someone coming for us?” he asked, voice steady in a way that made her stomach turn. “Or are we just gonna die here?”

The question hit like a stone dropped into deep water, sending ripples through the group. Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her fingers tightened on the suit, knuckles whitening.

The others had paused, their movements stilled by the weight of the words.

Leo tilted his head. “I can handle it,” he said, softer now. “If we’re not making it out, you can just say so.”

Bindi stepped in, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’re not giving up,” she said, her voice calm but absolute. “Not today.”

Leo hesitated, his bravado slipping just enough to reveal the scared kid underneath. Then he nodded.

The cabin reeked of sweat, scorched metal, and desperation. Shadows stretched long in the dim light, pooling in the corners, turning everything into a graveyard of broken machinery and shattered hope.

Y/N’s gaze drifted to the far side of the bulkhead, where Jungkook sat shackled and still, his presence more a quiet threat than anything else. The dark goggles covering his eyes reflected the dim light, a black void revealing nothing—no fear, no anger, no desperation. Just absence.

He didn’t fidget. Didn’t test his restraints. Didn’t move at all. That was what made him dangerous.

Yet, despite the cold knot of unease tightening in her stomach, Y/N couldn’t help but notice—he was beautiful.

Not in the clean-cut, manufactured way of men who knew they were being watched. No, there was something raw about him, something untamed. He was tall, all lean muscle wrapped in pale skin, the sinew of a predator coiled beneath the surface. His inky black hair was too long, falling into his face in uneven layers, the kind of overgrowth that should’ve looked unkempt but only made him more striking.

And then there were the tattoos.

They climbed up his arms in a chaotic symphony of ink, patterns and symbols weaving together into something intricate, something deliberate. Black ink against pale skin. A story written in the language of the damned.

Y/N’s throat went dry. Did they stop at his arms? Or did they go further, trailing over his ribs, down his back, curling against his hips? The thought hit like a static charge, sharp and unbidden. She swallowed, dragging her gaze away before she could entertain it any further.

“What about him?” she asked, her voice low, unsure despite herself.

Lee snorted, smirking. “Big Evil? Leave him locked up.”

Y/N forced herself to focus. “We don’t have forever,” she snapped, frustration bubbling up before she could reel it in. She exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face. “He broke out of a max-slam facility. Do you really think a pair of cuffs is enough?”

Lee shrugged, careless. “Only dangerous around humans,” he muttered, his voice thick with implication.

Before Y/N could fire back, movement caught her eye—a thin, silver thread trickling down the hull, glinting against the harsh twin suns.

Her stomach clenched.

Water.

Everything else vanished.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up, scrambling over the wreckage, boots slipping against warped metal. The sting of sharp edges against her palms didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was reaching the cistern before it was too late.

She wrenched open the hatch, metal scorching beneath her fingers. Sunlight flooded in, illuminating the nightmare inside.

A thin, glistening stream dribbled from a deep fracture in the steel, seeping into the cracked earth below. The ground drank greedily, dark stains blooming where the precious liquid had been only moments before.

Y/N’s breath hitched. A curse slipped past her lips, low and raw. This wasn’t just a leak. This was death.

Footsteps crunched behind her, the others approaching in hesitant silence. No one spoke. They didn’t need to. The truth lay bare before them, glinting in the relentless light.

Y/N leaned heavily against the hatch, her fingers pressing against the scalding metal as if to steady herself. Her gaze stayed locked on the dirt, watching helplessly as the last of the water disappeared, vanishing like hope itself.

The planet wasn’t just going to kill them. It was going to make them watch while it did.

A muscle ticked in her jaw. Her nails bit into her palms until pain cut through the spiraling thoughts. No. There wasn’t time for this—not for despair, not for grief. The planet would take everything if they let it, and she refused to give it that satisfaction.

She turned away from the empty cistern, shoulders squared against the weight pressing down on her. The others were watching, sweat streaking their dirt-smeared faces, fear barely concealed behind exhaustion. They were waiting for her to tell them what to do.

“We keep moving,” she said, her voice steady despite the scream clawing at her insides. “We’ll find more. There’s always something out there.”

The words tasted like lies. But lies could keep people alive. And right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.

The cargo hold reeked of scorched wiring and failure—the kind of failure that clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and made itself at home. The air was thick with it, stifling, oppressive. Y/N wiped a grimy hand across her forehead and pressed on, stepping over shattered panels and the twisted wreckage of what had once been their future.

Somewhere in this mess, there were MRAs. Mobile Resource Augmenters. Compact, efficient, life-saving. They were designed to extract moisture from the air, convert it into drinkable water, and they sure as hell weren’t cheap. NOSA wouldn’t have sent them on a long-haul mission without at least a few onboard.

She knew they were here, but no one else seemed to care.

Y/N was used to working with the best—astronauts trained to push beyond the limits of human endurance. On Aguerra Prime, her name meant something. She was a government official, a veteran of deep-space missions, one of the top-ranked astronauts in NOSA’s fleet. She had survived hostile environments before.

This, though? This was worse. Because she was surrounded by people who should have been fighting to survive—but weren’t.

Peter moved through the wreckage with a magician’s flourish, fingers dancing over the lock of a sealed crate like he was about to unveil something miraculous. The lid groaned open, dust puffing into the stale air, and inside lay…

Furniture. Tiffany chairs. Polished bronze lecterns. An entire crate filled with useless, gaudy antiques.

Lee let out a sharp whistle, nudging the crate with his boot. “King Tut’s tomb,” he muttered. “Just what we needed.”

Peter’s face lit up, eyes gleaming as he ran a reverent hand over an antique desk. “This,” he murmured, “is Wooten. A very rare piece, mind you.”

Y/N stared at him, patience fraying like old wiring. “A desk?” she asked, her voice sharper than the heat outside. “Not food. Not water. A desk?”

Peter waved her off, as if she were the one being unreasonable. “Not just a desk,” he corrected, prying open a hidden compartment.

Nestled inside, gleaming like a sick joke, sat a row of liquor bottles. Sherry. Scotch. Vintage port.

Y/N felt something snap. “We’re dying of thirst, and you brought booze?”

Peter stiffened, his hand hovering protectively over the bottles. “Two-hundred-year-old single-malt scotch,” he said, tone dripping with wounded pride. “To call it ‘booze’ is like calling foie gras ‘duck guts.’”

Lee barked a laugh, already reaching for a bottle. The seal cracked with a soft pop, and the sharp scent of aged alcohol filled the air, thick and cloying. He raised it mockingly. “Here’s to survival—or whatever the hell he just said.”

Y/N clenched her jaw so tightly it ached.

She had spent the last hour shifting wreckage, trying to move beams twice her weight, searching for anything that could actually keep them alive.

And these idiots were getting drunk.

Her gaze flicked to the scattered debris. There were still places she hadn’t checked, still a chance the MRAs were buried under the twisted metal, waiting for someone to dig them out.

But as she looked around, at Peter cradling his precious scotch, at Lee tipping his bottle back like this was some kind of vacation, at the rest of them barely pretending to care—she felt the fight drain out of her.

No one was going to help her, and she was done trying to save people who didn’t want to be saved.

She exhaled sharply, the decision settling like a stone in her stomach. Without a word, she turned on her heel, stepping away from the wreckage, away from the lost cause unfolding in front of her.

She had been trained to adapt, to survive no matter what. But NOSA had never prepared her for this. The footsteps came before the words.

Namjoon and his followers stepped into the wreckage, their white robes streaked with dust but still somehow immaculate, like they existed just outside the filth and chaos consuming the rest of them. The Chrislams moved with that same unsettling calm, like they hadn’t yet realized the depth of their predicament.

Y/N barely spared them a glance. She was past caring.

But Lee—still riding the high of finding nothing useful—wasn’t about to let them pass without commentary.

He slammed his bottle onto a metal crate with a hollow clink, his frustration breaking through the haze of heat and exhaustion. “For what?” he demanded, voice sharp. “There’s no water. No food. Just rocks, dust, and death as far as the eye can see.”

Namjoon met his glare without flinching. “All deserts have water,” he said softly. “Somewhere.”

Lee let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Great. You talk to God, then? He got directions?”

Namjoon didn’t blink.

“God will lead us there.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and immovable, like the wreckage around them. Y/N bit down on the retort bubbling up in her throat, but the pragmatist in her screamed louder than any prayer. Water didn’t come from faith. It came from work, from tearing apart this wreck until her hands bled.

“While God’s drawing up a map,” she muttered, turning back to the containers, “we’ll keep looking.”

Namjoon inclined his head respectfully and led his followers away, their murmured prayers fading into the distance. For a moment, Y/N envied their calm. Then Peter’s humming broke the quiet, his fingers trailing lovingly over the polished wood of the desk as if cataloging a museum piece. Her jaw tightened, but she swallowed the urge to snap. Wasting energy on him wasn’t worth it.

Lee pried open another container with a sharp kick, sending a plume of dust into the air. Inside was a heap of torn fabric and broken machinery, tangled and useless. He swore under his breath and shoved it aside, his frustration vibrating in every movement. “This is a goddamn joke,” he muttered. “We’re supposed to survive with this?”

“Keep looking,” Y/N snapped. Her voice cracked like a whip, harsh and desperate. The panic simmering just beneath her surface slipped through. “We don’t find water soon, no one’s making it out of here.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the scrape of metal and the mournful whistle of wind through the wreckage. Outside, the suns continued their relentless assault, the wind carrying dust and the heavy weight of despair. Y/N pressed her hand against the ship’s hull, the heat seeping into her palm. Every moment without progress felt like another step closer to death.

She moved toward the equipment bay, her focus narrowing. Somewhere in the wreckage were the pieces of the ship’s water generator. If she could just find them—just piece it together—they wouldn’t have to rely on the barren, unforgiving land outside. But her concentration splintered, fraying with every glance at the others.

Peter’s oblivious grin. Lee’s sharp frustration. Namjoon’s calm certainty. All of it clung to her like the heat, pressing in, pulling her mind away from the task at hand.

Her fingers brushed against a bent panel, her breath hitching as she caught sight of something familiar—part of the generator’s casing. Relief surged, but it was fleeting. The casing was twisted, its edges sharp and useless without the core components. Her chest tightened as she knelt, wrenching it free, her hands shaking as she turned it over in search of something—anything—that could still work.

Behind her, Leo’s small voice cut through the haze. “So,” he said, too calm for a kid his age. “What happens if we don’t find it? The water?”

The question hit her like a blow, her grip tightening on the casing. Around her, the others stilled, their movements halting under the weight of Leo’s words.

“You don’t have to pretend for me,” he added, his tone flat, unflinching. “I can take it.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her breath shaky. When she finally spoke, her voice was brittle, scraping against the silence. “We’ll find it.”

It wasn’t an answer. It was a promise. And God help her, she didn’t know if she could keep it.

The ship groaned like a dying animal, its ruptured hull straining against the inevitable. Twisted metal rasped against itself, the sound a constant needle under the skin, an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Dust hung thick in the air, turned to gold by the merciless twin suns that stabbed through the fractured ceiling. Every breath tasted of scorched circuitry and hydraulic fluid, the scent of ruin and slow decay.

Jungkook sat in the shadows, chained to the bulkhead, utterly still. Not the stillness of resignation—but of patience. Of calculation. His wrists, raw from steel cuffs, rested against his thighs, fingers loose, body deceptively relaxed. The dark goggles strapped over his eyes reflected slivers of fractured light, a predator’s gaze hidden behind black glass. The mouth-bit locked over his teeth was meant to make him less dangerous.

It only made him look like a caged beast waiting for the lock to fail.

The ship shifted again, the wreckage settling into itself. He ignored it. The ship was already dead. That wasn’t his problem.

But Y/N’s absence was. Not that he cared. Not really.

But she was the only one in this mess who wasn’t an idiot. The only one who thought ahead. Moved with purpose. Her voice carried weight, her commands cutting through chaos like a blade. That kind of control was rare. Most people shattered when things got bad. She didn’t.

Still, he’d expected more when he first got a good look at her. Too lean. Too sharp. Built for function, not decoration. No softness, nothing extra. Not the kind of woman who caught his eye.

But then she’d spoken. And the way the room shifted around her—the way even the air seemed to move when she did—had made him reconsider.

Not beautiful, but something. And that something was more interesting than pretty.

Jungkook rolled his shoulders, cataloging the weight of his restraints, the tension in his muscles already fading. The nickname he’d overheard while half-conscious surfaced in his mind.

Frenchie. Too small. Too soft. Didn’t suit her at all.

The cutting torch lay just out of reach, its dull gleam a whisper in the wreckage. His head tilted slightly, lips curling behind the bit—not a smile, something colder. The ship was quiet now, save for the occasional creak, but Jungkook had already mapped every fracture, every weakness, every way out. The crack in the hull above him was subtle, barely there.

To anyone else. To Jungkook, it was an invitation. A flaw. A way through.

He shifted, testing the give of his chains. Metal rasped against metal, a whisper swallowed by the ship’s dying groans. He didn’t flinch. He just moved slower, smoother—a shadow moving through shadows.

Then, without hesitation, a sickening pop shattered the silence.

His left shoulder dislocated, tendons twisting, bones shifting in a grotesque ballet of control. Pain flickered at the edge of his consciousness, a distant thing, irrelevant. His breath remained steady.

Another pop. The right shoulder went next.

He exhaled slowly, muscles flexing, and with a sharp, brutal motion, his arms twisted through the narrow gap between his head and the bulkhead. His hands, now free, hung limp at his sides. For a moment, nothing moved. Then, with a precise, measured force, he rolled his shoulders back into place. The snap of bone meeting socket reverberated through the cabin, a sound that made most men sick.

Jungkook barely noticed.

The cuffs slipped from his wrists, hitting the floor with a final, hollow clatter.

He rose in one smooth motion, unfolding to his full height, presence suddenly too much for the cramped space. The air felt different. Thicker. 

He stepped forward, moving toward the torch, his bare feet silent against the floor. The chains lay abandoned behind him, the weight of them meaningless now. The torch was warm against his fingers as he picked it up, rolling it once in his palm, adjusting to its feel.

Then he turned.

The goggles hid his eyes, but the smirk behind the bit was unmistakable.

The cutting torch hummed to life in his grip, a low, vibrating growl that filled the silence.

He was free.

The world beyond the wreckage was a graveyard—heat and silence stretched endlessly in every direction, oppressive, unyielding. Twin suns hung in the sky like merciless sentinels, their light leeching color from the landscape until only stark, blinding desolation remained. The ground was a cracked, scorched wound, dust spiraling in restless eddies, threading through jagged rock formations and yawning craters. In the distance, hills wavered like mirages, ghostly illusions rippling in the heat, always there, never reachable.

Lee stood at the edge of the ruin, half in shadow, half in the unrelenting blaze of the suns. The tang of sweat and burnt metal clung thick in the air, catching at the back of his throat. His pistol rested loosely in his grip, a lifeline more than a weapon. A thing to hold onto. A reminder that he wasn’t defenseless, even if the planet seemed indifferent to the concept of survival.

The silence pressed in, heavy. Wrong.

Silence should’ve been relief. Silence should’ve meant safety. But this wasn’t that kind of quiet. This was the kind that watched. The kind that waited.

His gaze swept the horizon, scanning the brittle, broken ground for something—anything—out of place. But the emptiness was deceptive, shifting, playing tricks on his eyes. The wreckage groaned behind him, metal expanding under the punishing heat. The ship was dying, settling into its grave. He ignored it. There were more immediate concerns.

Then—movement.

Not much. Just a glint, half-buried in the dust. A sliver of something reflecting the twin suns. Lee exhaled slowly, crouched, and reached for it, brushing aside the grit with careful, practiced efficiency.

The object came into view. A curved piece of metal. Scuffed. Worn. Unmistakable. His stomach dropped. The mouth-bit. Jungkook’s.

Lee straightened too fast, the bit still clutched in his hand, his fingers tightening around it like it might bite him. His other hand curled reflexively around the pistol’s grip, knuckles bloodless. The planet, empty and endless just moments ago, now felt like a set of teeth closing in.

Jungkook was loose. The realization landed like a hammer blow, cold despite the heat.

Lee had seen what the man could do—shackled. What he could be, even when restrained by steel and sedation. Now, the shackles were gone. The bit that had kept him contained was nothing more than a useless scrap of metal in Lee’s hand.

And Jungkook was out there. Somewhere. Lee scanned the landscape again, but the terrain mocked him. Too much space. Too many places to disappear. Too many places to hunt from.

The wreckage of the ship loomed behind him. The others were still inside—Bindi, Namjoon, Peter. Oblivious. They had no idea what had just been set loose into their already precarious existence.

Lee’s jaw clenched. Like we needed another way to die.

He turned the bit over in his palm, its edges smooth from use, from time, from teeth. He should’ve known. They all should’ve known. But it had been easier to ignore the truth than to face it.

Now, that denial had come at a cost.

The wind kicked up, whispering through the wreckage, sending dust scuttling across the cracked earth. The sound of it sent a chill down his spine, because it wasn’t the wind he was afraid of.

Lee shoved the bit into his pocket, a grim token of what lurked beyond the ship’s broken hull. Jungkook wasn’t just a problem. He wasn’t just dangerous. He was intentional. A force of nature with purpose. Whatever he wanted, whatever he was planning, it wasn’t going to end well for anyone.

He turned back toward the ship, every muscle wired tight, every step measured. The pistol was steady in his grip now, but the weight of it felt inadequate.

This wasn’t over. Not even close. The silence had changed. It wasn’t just emptiness anymore. It was a warning. Jungkook wasn’t watching from a distance.

The cargo hold was a machine of chaos—loud, desperate, and running on the thin fuel of fear. People moved like scavengers, tearing through storage lockers, prying open crates with bloodied hands, dragging whatever they could find into the nav-bay. Metal clattered, plastic scraped, breathless grunts and muttered curses filled the stale air. Dust spiraled in the fractured sunlight slanting through the ship’s wounds, turning the space into a golden, suffocating haze.

Y/N stood on the outskirts, arms crossed, watching. It wasn’t much of a stockpile, but it was all they had.

The room—once a hub of order and precision—now looked like a battlefield before the war even began. Broken panels, exposed wiring, the remains of shattered instruments littered the floor. In the middle of it all, their growing pile of salvaged weapons stood like an altar to survival.

Lee stepped up first. No hesitation, no wasted motion. He crouched beside the pile and inspected his finds: a pistol, a shotgun, a baton. Well-used, well-loved. The shotgun bore the scars of a hard life—scratched barrel, faded stock—but the way Lee handled it left no doubt. The weapon was an extension of him. He loaded it with quiet efficiency, each metallic clink settling into the uneasy silence.

Behind him, Daku and Bindi added their contributions. A battered pickaxe, a handful of digging tools, and an old hunting boomerang—its edges worn, its surface scarred. Daku flicked his wrist, testing its balance. He nodded once, satisfied. Bindi, hovering close, scanned the room with sharp eyes, daring anyone to question their worth.

Then Namjoon stepped forward.

A ceremonial blade. Ancient. Ornate. The kind meant for rituals, not combat. The hilt gleamed under the dim light, its intricate carvings whispering of old traditions. But the edge—thin, honed—was made to cut. He set it down carefully, with a reverence that stood in stark contrast to the chaos around him.

And then there was Peter.

He stumbled into the room, arms overfilled with weapons that didn’t belong on a battlefield. His face was red, breath heavy, but he carried his haul like it meant something. He nearly tripped over a loose wire before dumping his findings onto the pile.

Silence followed.

Polished war-picks. A blow-dart hunting stick. A collection of relics that belonged in a museum, not a fight for survival.

Lee stared. “The hell are these?”

Peter straightened, his expression hovering somewhere between pride and offense. “Maratha crow-bill war-picks,” he declared, lifting one like a trophy. “Northern India. Extremely rare.”

Daku snorted. He picked up the hunting stick, turning it over in his hands, unimpressed. “And this?”

“Blow-dart hunting stick,” Peter shot back defensively. “Papua New Guinea. One of a kind.”

Daku let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, tossing the stick back onto the pile. “Looks like they went extinct for a reason.”

Peter’s face darkened. His fingers curled around the remaining items like they might be snatched away. “Why are we even bothering with this?” he snapped. “If Jungkook’s gone, he’s gone. Why should we care?”

The air changed. The tension turned solid.

Lee was the first to break the silence. He stepped forward, slow, deliberate, his voice razor-edged. “First,” he said, his tone like the cocking of a gun, “because he can only survive out there for so long. Sooner or later, he’s coming back—for supplies. For water. For us.”

He let that settle, let them feel the weight of it.

“Second,” he continued, lowering his voice even further, “because killing is the only thing he’s ever been good at. And he likes it.”

No one spoke. No one moved.

Y/N felt the weight of those words settle into her chest, heavy as a loaded weapon. Jungkook wasn’t just a problem. He wasn’t a rogue element in their calculations.

He was a predator. And they were his prey. As if on cue, the group reached for their weapons.

Lee holstered the shotgun, his grip firm. Daku tested the boomerang again, tracing its edges with quiet precision. Even Peter, reluctant as he was, finally set one of his prized war-picks on the pile, his fingers lingering before he let go.

Y/N reached for the ceremonial blade.

It wasn’t made for this, but it would do. The weight of it felt strange in her hand, but solid. Steady. A promise.

The wind howled through the ruined hull, carrying the dry, metallic scent of the wasteland beyond. The horizon remained still, jagged peaks unmoving, but inside the ship, something had shifted.

The air felt electric. Like the moment before a storm. Y/N glanced at the others, their faces cast in flickering shadows. They were ready—or as ready as they could be.

Jungkook wasn’t gone. He was out there. Watching. Waiting. And now, so were they.

The ship jutted from the earth like a rusted blade, its jagged metal edges catching the dying light of twin suns. One burned a deep red, sinking low on the horizon, while the other clung stubbornly to the sky, casting long, broken shadows across the wasteland. Wind whispered through the wreckage, carrying the dry scent of scorched metal and sand, a faint, restless sound in the vast stillness.

Lee perched high on the hull, rifle balanced against his shoulder. His silhouette was razor-sharp against the sky’s bleeding colors. He moved only when necessary, scanning the horizon with a hunter’s patience, the kind of stillness that meant survival.

Then—movement.

A flicker. A distortion at the edge of his vision. His grip tightened. His breath held. What the hell was that?

The words barely escaped his lips, lost to the wind before anyone below could hear them.

On the ground, the others worked against time, piecing together survival from the ship’s remains. Daku and Bindi crouched over a makeshift workbench—little more than a pile of salvaged crates and twisted panels. They moved with careful efficiency, assembling breather units from scavenged tubing and half-broken filters. Each strap tightened, each valve checked, because failure wasn’t an option.

“Try it now,” Daku muttered, handing one to Leo.

The boy lifted it to his face, inhaling tentatively. A soft hiss, the measured release of oxygen. Relief flickered across his face, there and gone in an instant.

A few yards away, the Chrislams worked in silence, layering cloth over their heads, tying knots with practiced hands. Their transformation was seamless—fluid—turning them into nomads, figures that belonged to this land in a way the rest of them never would. Namjoon moved among them, his presence steady, guiding younger pilgrims as they secured their wrappings.

Y/N stood apart.

Her focus was on Shields. Or rather, what was left of him. His body was wrapped in salvaged cloth, the material rough, inadequate. But it was all she had. She tied the final knot, her fingers lingering for a moment, grounding herself in the task. When she straightened, her shadow stretched long and thin in the fading light.

“Namjoon.” Her voice was steady, though exhaustion clung to its edges. “We need to move before nightfall. While it’s still cool.”

Daku wiped a streak of sweat from his brow, glancing up. “What, you’re heading off too?”

Y/N nodded, jaw tight. “Lee’s leaving you a gun. Just one favor—bury my crew. They didn’t deserve to die here.”

Bindi met her gaze, expression soft but resolute. “We’ll take care of them.”

Then the sound came. Faint at first. A whisper. A reverence.

"Namjoon… Namjoon…"

The wind carried it toward them, weightless yet insistent. The group stilled. One by one, they turned toward the voice, rounding the wreckage to see where it came from.

And then, they saw it.

A blue star.

It flared against the horizon—impossibly bright, too large, too deliberate. It rose slowly, cutting through the burnt reds and oranges of the sunset like a blade. The light spread, stretching long shadows across the cracked land, shifting as if the planet itself had taken a breath.

Bindi exhaled sharply. “My bloody oath.”

“Three suns?” Leo whispered, his voice thin with disbelief.

Daku shook his head, his expression dark. “So much for nightfall.”

“And so much for cocktail hour,” Peter muttered, but the joke died the second it hit the air.

Namjoon stepped forward, bathed in the blue glow. The light painted his face in something almost holy. His voice was calm, steady, carrying the weight of quiet conviction.

“We take this as a sign. A path. A direction from God.”

Before anyone could respond, Lee moved.

He slid down the wreckage, boots kicking up dust as he landed. He straightened, brushing himself off, his rifle still slung across his shoulder. His face was unreadable, his eyes sharp.

“A very good sign,” he said, nodding toward the blue star. “That’s Jungkook’s direction.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to him, unreadable. “Thought you said you found his restraints over there,” she said, jerking her chin toward the opposite horizon, where the red sun was slipping beneath the cracked earth.

Lee didn’t flinch. “I did.” His voice was even, final. “Which means he’s moving toward sunrise.”

The words settled like a stone in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. Jungkook wasn’t wandering. He wasn’t lost. He had a direction. A purpose. And it was moving closer.

She looked back at the star, its eerie light shifting the landscape into something foreign, something watching. A slow exhale left her lips, her mind sharpening.

“Then we move,” she said, her voice unyielding. “Before he decides to double back.”

No one argued. No one hesitated. Because the truth was simple. They weren’t just running from Jungkook anymore. They were following him.

The horizon shimmered, a mirage of heat and shifting color, an alien dream unraveling in the distance. The landscape stretched out before them like an open wound, raw and unrelenting, bruised in shades of violet and ochre under the double glare of the twin suns. To stare too long was to feel the world slip sideways, the very fabric of reality twisting under the weight of its own unnatural stillness.

They moved in a thin, fragile procession, their figures small against the vastness, nothing more than a line of ghosts fading into the endless heat.

The Chrislams led the way, their voices rising and falling in quiet, hypnotic rhythm. Their steps were deliberate, measured, faith woven into every movement. Incense pots swung gently from their hands, sending tendrils of spiced smoke curling into the air—an offering, a prayer, a plea for something greater than themselves. The scent tangled uneasily with the metallic tang of dust, the dry crackle of a world long since abandoned to silence.

Lee followed at a short distance, shotgun resting easy in his arms, though his grip spoke of exhaustion more than readiness. Sweat streaked through the dust on his face, his makeshift visor—a jagged scrap of plexiglass tied down with wire—biting into his skin. He ignored it. The pain was secondary. His eyes never stopped moving, scanning the horizon with the wary focus of a man who understood that stillness could kill just as surely as motion.

Beside him, Y/N shifted the weight of Peter’s ridiculous war-pick across her back. The ornate handle dug into her shoulder with every step, a mockery of their situation. A relic in a place that demanded survival, not sentiment. She had given up rolling her eyes after the first hour—exhaustion had a way of dulling even irritation.

Peter trailed behind, his face pink from the sun, his every step labored. And yet, he cradled his remaining artifact like a sacred object, a lifeline to something that only made sense to him.

The sky loomed, too vast, too fluid, its colors seeping into one another like ink bleeding through paper. The heat distorted the air, turning the horizon into something unreal, something that moved even when it shouldn’t. It was the kind of quiet that didn’t mean peace.

It meant something was waiting.

Y/N fumbled with the cloth she had tried—and failed—to wrap around her head. Her fingers, slick with sweat, kept losing their grip, the fabric slipping no matter how many times she adjusted it. The suns beat down, relentless, burning through her scalp, through her bones.

Namjoon noticed.

He didn’t speak. Just stepped closer, his movements calm, measured. Before she could protest, his hands brushed against hers, taking the cloth with quiet certainty. He wrapped it with the efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times, securing each fold, each knot, with practiced ease.

Y/N stiffened. She wasn’t used to small kindnesses.

“It’s too quiet,” she muttered, her voice too loud in the stillness. “You get used to the hum of the ship, the engines… then suddenly, it’s just… nothing.”

Namjoon tied the last knot, adjusting the fabric slightly. “Do you know who Muhammad was?” he asked, his voice low, conversational—like they were discussing something as ordinary as the weather.

She blinked at him. “Some prophet guy?”

His lips twitched. “Some prophet guy.” He stepped back, eyes scanning his work before meeting hers again. “He was a city man, but he had to go to the desert—to the silence—to hear the words of God.”

Y/N squinted against the glare. “So, you were on a pilgrimage? To New Mecca?”

He nodded. “Chrislam teaches that once in every lifetime, there should be a great hajj—a journey. To know God better, yes. But also to know yourself.”

A dry laugh slipped from her lips, brittle as the ground beneath their boots. “Sounds terrifying.”

Namjoon just watched her, waiting.

She exhaled. “I grew up on Helion Five,” she admitted, tugging the cloth slightly, testing its weight. “Not as nice as Prime.”

Something flickered in Namjoon’s expression—recognition, maybe respect. “Least religious of all the Helion planets,” he said. “And the poorest.”

Y/N nodded. “I studied botany on Prime. Spent eight years at the technical institute.”

Namjoon’s face shifted, surprised but pleased. “Then you’ve been to New Mecca.”

“I have.” Her voice softened slightly. “Studied under Dr. Abbas.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in wonder. “Dr. Abbas was a mentor to my uncle. I met him once, when I was young. Brilliant man.”

Y/N nodded. The memories flickered behind her eyes—the towering spires of New Mecca, the hydro-gardens sprawling across the academy, faith and science woven together in delicate balance. It had been an oasis of learning, a place of possibility.

A place that should have led her somewhere better than this.

But then Helion Five ran out of money, and so did she. Her funding dried up, and she ended up back in the dirt, scraping by, until a flight school opportunity on Aguerra Prime sent her halfway across the galaxy.

She didn’t say that part.

At least NOSA paid well. At least the benefits were better than anything in the Helion System.

Namjoon studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, he said, “You’re full of surprises.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lee stopped. His entire body locked, every muscle wound tight. His breath sharpened. Then—his voice, low, razor-sharp. “Hold up.”

The words carved through the air, snapping every nerve in Y/N’s body to attention.

Lee lifted his rifle, scanning the horizon. His stance had changed—tight, predatory, every line of his body braced for whatever came next.

A ripple of unease passed through the group.

Y/N stepped forward, pulse quickening. “What is it?”

Lee didn’t answer immediately. He just handed her the scope, his expression grim.

She pressed it to her eye, adjusting to the warped, heat-rippled view. At first, she saw only what she expected—the same endless wasteland, stretching as far as the horizon. The cracked ground, desiccated and lifeless. The swirling dust, shifting restlessly in the dry, scorching wind. The emptiness, vast and absolute.

Then—something.

A cluster of thin, vertical shapes disrupted the monotony of the landscape.

She frowned. Her first instinct labeled them as trees, but the thought was dismissed as quickly as it formed. That was impossible.

She adjusted the focus, scanning for details, but the air above the superheated ground distorted everything. Waves of refracted light bent and twisted the landscape, making the objects shift in and out of coherence. She knew how easily the mind could be deceived under conditions like this—optical illusions born from extreme temperature gradients.

Still, she studied them.

They stood upright, dark against the glare of the horizon, irregular in height and spacing. They weren’t moving. Not even a fraction. No branches trembling in the wind. No leaves fluttering. Just still, rigid silhouettes.

Her jaw tightened.

If they were plant life, they shouldn’t be here. The conditions were too extreme. The heat alone would desiccate any surface vegetation in hours—if not outright kill it. Water, if it existed at all, would be buried deep underground, far from the sun’s reach. Any life here would have adapted to that reality. It would stay hidden, evolving in subterranean networks, safe from radiation and exposure.

But these things stood exposed, unyielding beneath a sky that could boil blood.

She exhaled slowly. If they weren’t trees, then what? Rock formations? But they were too slender, too irregular, lacking the weathered smoothness she’d expect from geological structures shaped by the elements.

Her mind cycled through possibilities.

Dead stalks of something that once lived? Artificial structures? Or just a mirage—some trick of light warping the landscape into false patterns?

She lowered the scope, blinking hard, then looked again with her naked eye. The shapes were still there, but less distinct, as if they faded into the background when not magnified.

That unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Her fingers tightened around the scope.

"Those aren't trees," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Y/N lowered the scope, pressing her lips into a thin line. The shapes still lingered on the edge of the horizon, indistinct and unreal, but her mind refused to place them in any known category. That alone made her uneasy.

“They aren’t trees,” she repeated, calmer this time. More certain.

Lee scoffed. “And you know that how?”

She turned to him, pulse steady despite the irritation curling in her chest. “Because trees don’t grow in places like this. Not on a planet this hot, this dry. Any plant life would be subterranean—assuming there’s life at all. Whatever those are, they’re not—”

“We’ll check it out.”

Y/N stiffened. “That’s not what I—”

Lee was already moving, waving for the others to prepare. “Not gonna stand here debating with a pilot who thinks she’s a scientist,” he muttered, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

Her fingers curled into a fist at her side. “I have a PhD in botany, actually,” she said flatly. “Which is why I’m telling you—”

“And I have a gun,” Lee cut in, not even looking at her. “So we’re gonna make sure.”

Y/N inhaled sharply through her nose. Of course. Of course, he was like this. She’d had his type figured out in the first ten minutes—loud, condescending, the kind of man who couldn’t stomach the idea of someone else knowing more than he did.

“You could just listen to her,” Namjoon interjected, stepping up beside her. He didn’t raise his voice, but there was an edge to his tone, subtle but firm. “She’s probably right. We don’t know what’s out there, and heading straight toward something unknown isn’t exactly smart.”

Lee exhaled sharply, turning back just enough to give Namjoon an unimpressed look. “Yeah? And what’s your plan, genius? Stand around and argue?”

“I think his plan,” Y/N said coolly, “is to use common sense.”

Lee barked a laugh. “Right. Common sense is what gets people killed. We don’t assume, we confirm.” His gaze flicked back to her, sharp with challenge. “Unless you’re scared?”

Y/N’s expression didn’t change, but inside, something clenched. Not in fear—just exhaustion. She’d dealt with men like this her entire career. She knew exactly how this argument would play out. She could cite a hundred scientific reasons why approaching those things was unnecessary at best, dangerous at worst, and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.

Lee wanted to stomp over there just to prove he could.

Fine. Let him.

“Whatever,” she muttered, shoving the scope back into his hands. “Let’s go, then.”

She didn’t miss Namjoon’s concerned glance, but she ignored it. If following Lee into a potential death trap was what it took to get him to shut up, so be it.

At least when this inevitably turned out to be a waste of time, she’d get to say I told you so.

The wrecked ship knifed through the barren skyline, its twisted metal ribs jutting like bones against the backdrop of twin burning suns. The land stretched endlessly in every direction—cracked, lifeless, shimmering under the weight of an unrelenting heat. The ship’s remains had become a monument to survival, a jagged scar on an already brutal world.

Perched atop the wreck, Peter reclined as if he were sunbathing at a luxury resort instead of stranded on a hellscape. His misting umbrella—a ridiculous contraption of indulgence and pure audacity—hissed softly, releasing a cooling vapor laced with alcohol. The mist shimmered in the dry air, enveloping him in a cocoon of decadence, as if the wasteland were merely an inconvenience rather than a death sentence.

Below, Daku appeared, dragging a makeshift sled across the scorched earth. The thing groaned under the weight of scavenged supplies—tarps, cables, tools lashed together with salvaged wiring. Sweat slicked his skin, dust clinging to every exposed inch, the heat pressing down on him like a living thing. He barely spared Peter a glance before barking out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Comfy up there?”

Peter angled his umbrella, peering down with a lazy grin. “Incredible, really,” he said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. He lifted his polished flask in a casual toast. “Turns out food and water are highly overrated when you have the finer things in life.”

Daku’s scowl deepened, his fingers tightening around the sled’s rope. “Just keep your bloody-fuckin’ eyes peeled,” he muttered, his accent sharpening with irritation. “Don’t need that ratbag sneakin’ up and takin’ a bite out of my bloody-fuckin’ arse.”

He turned and trudged toward the distant hills, the sled dragging behind him with a slow, agonized scrape. Peter smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his flask before pouring a precise splash into a delicate glass—somehow unbroken despite the crash. He lifted it to his lips, savoring the moment like he wasn’t marooned on a planet actively trying to kill him.

Then—the blade. Cold steel against his throat.

Peter’s breath hitched. His body went still, every instinct screaming don’t move. The pressure was light but undeniable, the knife’s edge sharp enough that even the slightest shift could draw blood. The air around him changed, tightened.

Then a voice, soft, almost amused. “He’d probably get you right here.” The blade tilted, just enough to let Peter feel the danger. “Right under the bone,” Leo murmured. “Quick. Clean. You’d never hear him coming.”

Peter’s fingers twitched toward the war-pick resting across his lap, but he didn’t move. He barely breathed. Because Leo wasn’t bluffing.

Peter’s eyes flicked sideways, catching the boy’s gaze. Those too-bright green eyes—steady, unblinking, holding something that didn’t belong in a face so young. The knife didn’t waver in his hand. His grip was sure, practiced, casual in a way that turned Peter’s stomach.

Peter swallowed carefully, feeling the blade shift with the motion. “Aren’t you a little young to be playing assassin?” he asked, voice light, strained. “What’s the story, then? Did you run away from your parents, or did they run away from you?”

A flicker of something dark passed over Leo’s expression—anger? Amusement? It was gone before Peter could name it. The blade stayed where it was.

Then, after a heartbeat too long, Leo stepped back. The knife withdrew with a flick of his wrist, a smooth, deliberate motion. The tension didn’t break—it just stretched, coiled between them, an unspoken thing that settled heavy in the heat. Leo turned and walked away.

Peter let out a slow, measured breath. His hand brushed over the war-pick in his lap—too late, too useless now—but the weight of it felt like reassurance. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the umbrella, tilting it just enough to cast his face back into shade. He exhaled, steadied himself.

Then, forcing his voice back into something closer to normal, he called after him.

“What exactly are you trying to prove, kid?”

Leo didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. The knife in his hand caught the light as he walked, glinting with every step. A warning. A promise.

Peter watched him disappear into the waves of heat, unease settling like a stone in his chest. He lifted the flask, poured another sip of sherry, and swallowed it down. It tasted bitter now.

The edge of the wreckage was quieter than anywhere else, a pocket of solitude carved into the heat and ruin. Leo sat cross-legged in the dust, her back to the others, their voices distant, muffled by the wind that swept across the barren expanse. The shadow of the hull stretched thin, barely offering relief from the twin suns, but she didn’t care.

She just needed to be alone.

The knife rested across her knee, a sliver of light catching on the steel, glinting as if it had something to say. Her hands hovered above it, fingers twitching, uncertain.

Her curls clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, itching at the back of her neck. They’d been a nuisance all day, an unwanted reminder of something she wasn’t anymore. Something she couldn’t be.

The first time she cut her hair, she’d done it with a shard of broken glass in a back alley on Taurus I, shivering, starving, her hands sticky with someone else’s blood. She’d shed her name that night too, left it behind like the curls that littered the filthy street.

Audrey had died there. Leo had crawled out of the wreckage. Now, here she was again.

Her fingers curled around the knife, steadying it despite the faint tremor in her hands. The first cut was clumsy, the blade snagging against a tangle before slicing through. A curl tumbled down, landing against the dust, dark against the pale ground. She exhaled sharply. Then she cut again.

Each slice was an act of erasure. A deliberate, necessary violence.

The curls fell in thick, heavy strands, coiling like dead things at her feet. She didn’t stop, even when sweat stung her eyes, even when her breath came short and fast. She worked until there was nothing left but uneven stubble, rough against her fingertips.

A breeze ghosted across her scalp, cool and startling, and for a moment, she felt untethered. Unmoored.

She stared down at the pile of curls, scattered like broken promises. Pieces of a girl who no longer existed. Pieces of soft hands and warm voices, of braids woven by someone long dead, of a life stolen before she ever had a chance to claim it.

Her throat tightened, but she swallowed hard, shoving the feeling down. Then, with one sharp motion, she ground her boot into the curls, sweeping them away with a harsh kick. The wind took them, lifting them into the air, scattering them across the wasteland.

She watched until they disappeared.

The knife was dull now, the edge dulled by the thick, stubborn strands it had cut through. She ran her thumb along the blade, then slipped it back into its sheath.

Leo stood slowly, brushing dust from her knees, rolling her shoulders back. She could already feel the questions rising in her mind. Did she cut enough? Would it pass? Would they see through her?

No. They wouldn’t. They saw what they expected to see—a wiry, sharp-edged boy, too young to be dangerous, too hard to be soft.

And that’s all they needed to know. She wasn’t going to tell them. Not Daku. Not Peter. Not even Namjoon. It wasn’t about trust. It was about survival.

She knew what happened to girls out here. She’d seen it. Felt it. She knew how softness got twisted, exploited, broken apart piece by piece. Leo wasn’t going to let that happen to her. Not again. Out here, softness wasn’t just a weakness. It was a death sentence.

Her green eyes flicked toward the horizon. The jagged hills stood like teeth in the distance, waiting for them. They would bring more pain. More danger. That was inevitable.

But Leo would meet them head-on. She had no other choice. Squaring her shoulders, she turned back toward the ship. The others would see her return. But they wouldn’t see her. Not really.

To them, she was just another boy. Just another survivor. Another body moving through this relentless, unforgiving world. And that was exactly how she needed it to be. Audrey was gone, scattered like dust on the wind. Leo was all that was left. And there was no space for softness now.

The rise gave way to something wrong.

Y/N had never expected to find trees—hadn’t even humored the idea. This planet was too hot, too dry, too merciless. Nothing should be growing here, least of all something as delicate as surface-dwelling vegetation. If life existed, it would be underground, hidden away from the blistering heat, surviving on whatever moisture remained trapped beneath the surface.

But what lay ahead wasn’t life at all.

It was bones.

They weren’t scattered remains or the weathered fossils of something long forgotten. No, these were enormous, structured, standing like a grotesque forest of the dead. Ribs the size of starships arched toward the sky, their jagged edges worn by time, bleached to a sickly green by lichen clinging stubbornly to their surfaces. They loomed over the wasteland, casting long, skeletal shadows that twisted and bent under the relentless double suns.

The ground beneath them was no better. Littered with shattered fragments, hollowed-out vertebrae, and the occasional half-buried skull, it was as if something had torn through this place—something big, something merciless.

The young pilgrims, Namjoon’s people, had begun to murmur prayers, their voices hushed and wavering.

“Allahu Akbar… Allahu Akbar…”

Their reverence was tinged with unease, their steps hesitant now, their awe tempered by something much colder.

Y/N lingered at the edge of the rise, adjusting the strap of her pack with a quiet exhale. She had no desire to move forward. Whatever happened here, however long ago it had been, it wasn’t natural. This wasn’t a graveyard. A graveyard implied burial, rest, peace. This?

This was a battlefield.

Lee, of course, had no such caution. He stepped up beside her, his shotgun slung low but ready, his face streaked with sweat and dust. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was sharp, assessing. Always acting like he was in charge. Always acting like he knew best.

"This doesn’t feel right," he muttered.

Y/N barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "No kidding," she murmured, voice dry.

They reached the others just as Namjoon translated a question from one of the younger pilgrims.

“He asks what could have killed so many great things.”

No one answered.

Y/N didn’t think they wanted to know.

They moved deeper, their earlier eagerness replaced by a silent, collective caution. She reached out, running her fingers over one of the towering ribs. The grooves carved into the surface were too precise, too intentional. Not the work of time, nor of nature.

“Killing field,” she murmured, stomach twisting. “Not a graveyard.”

Lee crouched near a pile of smaller bones, picking up a fragment. He turned it over in his hands, brushing away the dust. The surface was smooth, polished by age, but the ends—the ends had been broken.

“Whatever it was,” he said grimly, “it was a long time ago.”

A little ways off, Kai drifted toward one of the massive skulls, its hollow sockets wide and empty, a monument to something long dead. The structure was vast enough to shelter them all, its surface ridged with comb-like formations. Curious, Kai pressed his palm against one of the ridges. The wind shifted, catching within the grooves.

Namjoon, unlike the others, wasn’t entirely lost in the spectacle. His gaze flicked back to Y/N, watching the way her expression remained tight, the way her fingers twitched with irritation.

“You don’t like this,” he observed quietly.

Y/N huffed out a breath. “I don’t like being here at all. This is pointless.” She cast a glance at Lee, who was still inspecting the bones like he was the first person in the universe to ever see a skeleton. “And I don’t like being dragged around by someone who acts like he’s in charge just because he’s loud and armed.”

Namjoon smiled faintly. “That’s just Lee. Cop acting like a cop.”

Y/N snorted. “Yeah, well, I didn’t sign up to be bossed around by some overzealous authority figure with a superiority complex.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a dick.” Then, after a beat, “But mostly harmless.”

She side-eyed him. “Mostly.”

He shrugged, the ghost of amusement lingering.

A pause settled between them, quieter, more thoughtful. Y/N glanced at him, debating, then sighed. “Call me Frenchie.”

Namjoon blinked. “What?”

“It’s my call sign,” she explained, shifting her weight. “Got it when I was working on the docks with my uncle, and it stuck around. All my friends and family call me. You might as well, since I actually like you.”

Namjoon’s expression softened, something warm flickering behind his eyes. “Frenchie,” he repeated, testing the name with obvious care. A slow smile curved his lips. “I like it.”

Y/N nodded, satisfied.

Then Namjoon hesitated. “My mom used to call me Joon.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I haven’t heard it in a long time.”

Y/N looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

“She passed away a few years ago,” he admitted.

Y/N’s chest ached, just a little. She understood that feeling too well. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Namjoon nodded once, accepting, before offering her a small, sad smile. “It’s okay.”

Y/N hesitated, then said, “My parents died when I was little. My aunt and uncle raised me.”

Namjoon’s gaze met hers, understanding passing between them in the space of a heartbeat.

For a moment, they stood there, two people from different worlds, bound by quiet losses and shared irritation for the man currently barking orders at Kai like he had any authority.

Namjoon sighed. “We should probably go stop Lee from doing something stupid.”

Y/N smirked. “Or we could let him and watch what happens.”

Namjoon laughed, shaking his head. “Tempting.”

But they both knew they’d step in. Because Lee might be a pain in the ass, but he was still on their side.

A little ways off, Kai drifted toward one of the massive skulls, its hollow sockets wide and empty, a monument to something long dead. The structure was vast enough to shelter them all, its surface ridged with comb-like formations. Curious, Kai pressed his palm against one of the ridges. The wind shifted, catching within the grooves.

A low, hollow hum resonated through the bones. The sound rippled outward, vibrating through the air, sinking into their chests like a pulse of memory. It was deep, mournful—a ghost’s sigh.

Kai’s face lit up, wonder momentarily eclipsing fear. “I’ve never heard anything like this,” he said, turning toward the others, his voice tinged with awe.

His smile froze. Something moved in the skull’s shadow. A face—pale and grinning—emerged from the dark. Kai stumbled back with a strangled yelp, his hands flying up instinctively. It wasn’t a monster. It was Soobin.

He stepped from the depths of the skull, laughter bright and sharp. “Got you good,” he said, grinning.

The tension cracked—momentarily.

Lee was already moving, instincts pulling him into the cavernous space of the skull. The shadows stretched long inside, pooling in uneven recesses. Bones littered the ground, but not the smooth, time-worn ones outside.

These were fresh. Chipped. Splintered. His shotgun swept low, the muzzle nudging against a shattered fragment. The air inside the skull carried an edge, something faintly electric—like the charge before a storm.

Lee exhaled through his nose, slow. "Nothing," he muttered, but his gut said otherwise.

Outside, the group gathered near the towering ribs, unease thickening as the wind hummed through the combed ridges of the skulls, filling the air with a sound too unnatural to be ignored. The massive remains stood like silent guardians over a forgotten tragedy.

High above, Jungkook watched. He was a shadow within the bone, his body pressed into the dense curves of the cavernous skull. The faint light filtering through the ridges illuminated only fragments of him—a glint of movement, a slow, steady breath. He didn’t stir. Didn’t make a sound.

His gaze flicked over the group below. He had been tracking them for hours. From where he crouched, Y/N was the closest. She leaned against the skull’s base, fingers twisting off the spent oxygen canister at her belt. The hiss of escaping air broke the silence.

Jungkook’s grip tightened around the bone-shiv in his hand. Its jagged edge gleamed faintly, a relic carved from the remains of this place. His muscles coiled. His breath was measured. He waited. The hunt hadn’t begun yet. But soon.

Y/N shifted her weight, pressing her back against the massive skull. The warmth of the bone seeped through her clothes, and for a moment, she let herself close her eyes. Just a second—just long enough to exhale, to let the exhaustion settle beneath her ribs before she pushed forward again.

Above her, in the hollowed-out depths of the skull, Jungkook did not blink. He moved with the silence of something bred for patience, for hunting. The bone-shiv in his hand hovered steady, his fingers curling around the carved handle as he leaned forward, the comb-like ridges of the skull framing his motion.

Her hair, damp with sweat, swayed just within reach. A flick of his wrist. A whisper of steel. The blade caught a single lock, slicing it away with surgical precision. Dark strands drifted into his palm, weightless, a piece of her claimed without her ever knowing. He studied them for a moment—expression unreadable—before tucking them into the folds of his makeshift belt. A keepsake. A marker.

Below him, Y/N shifted, oblivious to how close she had come to the edge of her life. She pushed off from the skull, stretching out her sore muscles before turning. “We’d better keep moving,” she said, her voice even, but tired.

Lee’s arrival had been perfectly timed—though she had no idea how perfectly. He stood a few feet away, flask in hand, smirking beneath the sunburned grime on his face. “Care for a sip?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t alcohol supposed to dehydrate you faster?”

Lee shrugged, tipping the flask toward her. “Probably. But it makes you care a whole lot less.”

She hesitated, then took the flask anyway. The liquid burned a path down her throat, hot and punishing, but she swallowed it without complaint. She handed it back, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. The boneyard stretched behind them, vast and silent, too silent.

“We don’t want to be out here when it gets dark,” she said briskly.

Lee nodded, tucking the flask back into his jacket as they fell into step. The group ahead was just visible now, their silhouettes shrinking against the dying light.

The crunch of bone fragments beneath their boots was the only sound between them. They climbed the rise overlooking the wasteland, and then—Lee froze. He moved fast, stepping onto a rock, rifle raised, the scope pressed tight against his eye. Every muscle in his body went rigid.

Y/N felt the shift instantly. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her knife. “What is it?”

Lee didn’t answer at first. He adjusted the scope, lips pressing into a tight line.

“I thought maybe he’d double back,” he muttered, voice barely audible. “Could be trailing us.”

Y/N’s stomach coiled tight. “And?”

Lee exhaled, lowering the scope. “Nothing.” He shook his head. “Left the flask as bait. No bites.” He climbed down, his boots hitting the earth with a crunch. “Guess he’s smarter than that.”

But Lee was wrong. So, so wrong. Back in the shadows of the skull, the truth was different. The flask, once brimming with scotch, now sat empty. Its contents had been poured out—replaced with a handful of coarse, reddish sand. Carefully. Deliberately.

Jungkook crouched deep in the graveyard of bones, his body a seamless part of the ruin, woven into the wreckage of something ancient. The strands of Y/N’s hair were still tucked securely into his belt, their faint scent rising with the heat.

His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled movements, his fingers adjusting the bone shards strapped across his body like armor. He was a ghost. A specter inside the carcass of a long-dead god. Watching. Waiting. And as the group moved farther away, he smiled.

The spired hills rose like shattered teeth against the sky, jagged and sharp, their edges blurred by the feverish shimmer of heat. The ground cracked beneath the weight of the twin suns, a vast, unrelenting plain stretching between the wreckage and the emptiness beyond.

Beneath the meager shade of a tarp strung between two rusted poles, Daku worked in silence.

Each swing of the pickaxe landed with a dull, defiant thud, the ground resisting him at every turn. This planet didn’t want to give up its dead.

A few yards away, the bodies lay wrapped in scavenged cloth. The makeshift shrouds clung awkwardly, shifting slightly in the breeze, as if reluctant to settle. A corner of one cloth lifted—just enough to reveal the curve of a hand, frozen in stillness—before the wind set it back down, as if even the air knew better than to disturb the dead.

Daku didn’t look at them. He didn’t have to. Their presence pressed against his skin, heavy as the heat, heavy as guilt. He drove the pickaxe into the ground again, his muscles burning, his breath ragged. The wreckage of the ship loomed behind him, twisted metal stark against the sky. It felt farther away than it was, separated by more than just distance.

Movement at the edge of his vision made him pause. Bindi stood in the shadow of the ship, watching. She lifted a hand in a slow, deliberate wave. Daku raised his own in return. A small gesture. Too heavy for what it was. But enough. Then he turned back to the earth.

The ground cracked beneath his next swing, reluctant but yielding. The rhythm of digging gave him something to focus on—something other than the weight pressing at the edges of his mind.

“Daku.”

Bindi’s voice carried across the dead landscape, firm but quiet.

He didn’t stop. “You need something?”

She stepped closer, hands on her hips, her presence solid, steady. “You good out here?”

Daku leaned against the shovel, wiping sweat from his brow. His voice came out rough. Flat. “Depends. How good does digging graves in an oven sound to you?”

Bindi snorted. “You could take a break, you know.”

“They deserve better than that,” Daku muttered. No room for argument.

Bindi didn’t try.

She stood there for a moment, gaze lingering, unreadable. Then she turned and disappeared back into the wreckage, leaving him alone with the dust, the heat, and the dead.

Daku worked until his muscles ached, until his hands blistered, until the trench was deep enough to matter.

Then, finally, he turned to the first body. The cloth fluttered slightly as he crouched beside it. Too light. That was the first thing he noticed. The weight was all wrong, the shape beneath the fabric too empty. His breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t let it settle. Didn’t let himself think.

He lifted the body carefully, arms straining as he carried it to the grave. Lowered it into the earth like it meant something.

A breath. A pause. The world around him held still, as if watching. He swallowed hard, then reached for the shovel.

The first shovelful of dirt hit with a dull thud. Then another. Then another. The sound of finality. The sound of something being buried that would never be dug up again.

When it was done, he stepped back, brushing dust from his palms. It wasn’t much. But it was enough. The sound of footsteps behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Bindi.

“You need help?” she asked.

Daku shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

She didn’t argue. She just stood there with him, both of them framed against the endless, indifferent horizon. The silence between them wasn’t empty. It was everything they couldn’t say. Everything they’d lost. Everything they still had left to lose. Daku exhaled, his gaze fixed on the hills in the distance. The sun was sinking, but the heat never left.

“They’ll rest easier now,” Bindi murmured.

Daku tightened his grip on the shovel. “Let’s hope we can say the same for us.”

The canyon yawned ahead, its ribbed spires stretching toward the twin suns like the remains of some ancient beast, clawing at the sky in its final death throes. Heat shimmered off the cracked earth, turning the horizon into something warped and restless. The silence was thick, not the absence of sound, but the kind that pressed in on all sides, heavy with the unshakable feeling that something was watching.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her pack, fingers brushing absently over the worn hilt of her knife as she scanned the terrain. Every step felt heavier, dragged down not just by exhaustion, but by the weight of the stillness.

Ahead, Yeonjun suddenly crouched, his voice low but urgent.

"Captain… Captain!"

Y/N was at his side in seconds, her brow furrowing as she followed his gaze. Half-buried in the dirt was something small and round, coated in dust and split slightly down the middle. At first, it looked like some alien fruit—leathery, weathered, its exposed core stringy and fibrous.

The Chrislams gathered close, murmuring in soft Saramic, their voices tinged with something fragile—hope.

"Could it be food?" one of them asked. "Something edible?"

Y/N brushed the dirt away, fingers tracing the rough, familiar stitching. The realization sank in like a stone dropping into deep water. She lifted it slowly, turning it over in her palm.

Her voice was flat when she spoke. "It’s a baseball."

The murmurs stopped. The small circle of bodies tensed, shoulders tightening, breath catching. The dirt-smudged ball sat in her palm like an artifact from another world. In a way, it was.

Namjoon stepped closer, the usual calm in his eyes sharpening into something watchful. He scanned the canyon’s winding path, his voice measured but weighted.

“We are not alone here, yes?”

Y/N didn’t answer, but her grip on the ball tightened.

Behind her, Lee shifted, his rifle held easy but ready, the sharp cut of his jaw betraying his unease. His fingers brushed the scope, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Never thought we were,” he muttered, the resignation in his tone carrying something else beneath it. Something like readiness.

The canyon widened, opening into a plateau that led toward the spired hills. And there—standing against the base of the jagged rock formations—was a settlement. Or what was left of one.

Rust-streaked shipping containers, stacked into makeshift buildings, leaned into each other like forgotten bones. Tattered sunshades, barely clinging to their rusted poles, flapped weakly in the heated wind, their edges frayed and curling.

The group stopped.

Namjoon moved first, stepping forward with a reverence that didn’t match the decay before them.

"Assalamu alaikum!" Yeonjun called, his voice carrying across the empty space, bouncing off the metal walls.

Nothing. No answer.

Lee peeled off toward a rusted-out moisture-recovery unit, crouching near the battered jugs scattered at its base. He picked one up, shook it. Nothing. Just a hollow rattle of grit inside brittle plastic.

“They ran out,” he said grimly, setting the jug down with finality.

Namjoon’s gaze lingered on the machine, his voice quiet. “Water,” he murmured. “Once, there was water here.”

The pilgrims sank to their knees, hands raised, their voices rising in unison. Allahu Akbar. The sound filled the empty settlement, a prayer swallowed by the bones of a place long past saving.

Y/N watched from the outskirts, the weight of the baseball still heavy in her grip. The prayers filled the space, but they didn’t fill her. Her gaze drifted to the shipping containers. Too still. Too empty. She moved toward one, her steps careful, deliberate. The doors hung crooked, their rusted hinges straining against time. She pushed one open.

Inside, the remains of lives left behind: A tipped-over chair. A rusted lantern. A faint, smeared handprint on the wall.

Y/N dragged her fingers along the broken edge of a table. Her voice was quiet, more to herself than anyone else.

“What happened here?” Lee’s voice, closer than she expected.

“Doesn’t look like they had much of a choice,” he said, gesturing to the scattered jugs, the rusted-out machinery. “This place dried up.”

Namjoon’s voice broke through the weight of the silence. "We search. See what remains."

The group spread out, their movements slow, careful. The air was thick, heavy with something unspoken. Y/N turned the baseball over in her hands, a cold certainty settling deep in her chest.

The air inside the structure was stale—not just old, but abandoned. A vacuum where life had once existed and then receded, leaving only the sediment of its passing. The particulate composition of the dust—fine, unbothered—told Y/N that no one had been in here for years.

She stepped forward, careful with her weight distribution, feeling the floor shift just slightly under her boots. Disuse. Wood degradation. Subsurface rot. The building wouldn’t collapse under her, but it was tired.

She cataloged details as she moved—mental notes stacking like research entries in her mind. The table in the center of the room: wooden, refectory-style, approximately two meters in length. Surface dull with oxidized grime. Deep scratches. Cup rings. The wood had absorbed more than just liquid over time—it had absorbed history.

The walls bore framed images—early settlers, hands dirt-streaked and competent, smiling children, a boy gripping a baseball bat. Domesticity in an unrelenting world. A psychological anchor. And yet, they were gone. The structures stood, the ghosts remained, but the people who built them—who bent this world to their will—had vanished.

Where?

Y/N moved deeper inside, her fingertips trailing along the tabletop’s edge. Oil deposits in the grain. Sweat, grease—human residue. She withdrew her hand quickly, as if touching the past too much might make it real again.

She reached for the wall, searching by muscle memory for a switch. “Lights,” she muttered, though she already knew—futility.

Her hand skimmed rough plaster—no switches, no panels. Not even the residual tackiness of adhesive where something had been ripped away. No artificial power grid at all.

Her mind started turning. She moved toward a window, the fabric blackout blinds stiff under her fingers. Why blackouts? She yanked them back, expecting the room to flood with sunlight—

A face stared back. Y/N jerked backward, pulse spiking. Her breath hitched before recognition caught up. Lee. Standing just beyond the glass, his features cut sharp by the exterior glare. He grinned, bemused, almost lazy.

"Try not to get lost in there," he said through the window, voice muffled.

She exhaled sharply, tension bleeding from her muscles. A short, nervous laugh escaped her as she nodded. "Not planning to," she called back.

Lee gave a small wave and stepped away, disappearing into the light. She was alone again. But the silence inside the building had shifted. A creak from behind her.

Y/N pivoted, knife half-drawn, instincts running ahead of her thoughts. Something in the corner caught the light. An orrery.

It sat on a low table, its frame dulled with oxidation but intact. She took a slow, deliberate step forward. The gears inside clicked, stuttered, then began to turn.

The device came to life. Tiny planets, caught in orbits dictated by age-old mechanics, began to move. Uneven. Jerky. The largest celestial body, positioned where a primary sun should be, pulsed faintly—bathed in a perpetual glow.

Y/N stilled. No darkness. Her fingers brushed the frame. "No darkness," she murmured. "No lights, because… no darkness." Her scientific mind caught the pattern before her gut did. Something prickled at the base of her skull. A realization forming too slow to stop the chill crawling up her spine. She turned sharply, stepped back into the sunlight.

The porch creaked beneath her boots, the glare of the twin suns almost too much after the dim interior. She squinted, eyes scanning the barren land for movement.

Then—a flicker. Far out, something glinted. Not naturally. A deliberate reflection. Her breath caught. She moved fast, pushing past a line of laundry still clinging to rusted wire, the faded fabric brushing her arms as she pushed forward.

The glint again. She broke into a jog.The ground crunched beneath her boots, fractured stone and sand shifting as she reached the source— A skiff. Partially buried in the desert’s hungry mouth.

Y/N’s pulse pounded. The fabric wings, tattered and skeletal, flapped weakly in the wind. The hull, sleek despite its damage, bore faded markings—symbols etched by a language older than the ruins around it.

A vessel. A departure. Or an arrival. Her fingers traced the surface—metal, pitted and worn, but solid. Heat radiated from it, even in the already blistering environment. Residual energy storage? Possible thermovoltaic components? Her heart stuttered.

"Allahu Akbar," she whispered, voice trembling between awe and calculation.

She didn’t believe in miracles. But she believed in science. And the science told her one thing: Someone else had been here.

The others caught up within minutes, their footsteps crunching against the fractured ground, but Y/N barely registered them. Her mind was already dissecting, calculating, breaking down the skiff in front of her.

Namjoon reached her first, his approach slow, deliberate—a reverence she couldn’t afford. He placed a hand on the hull, fingers splayed over the scarred metal, his eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. A prayer. A plea. The Chrislams behind him murmured their own, their voices threading through the air like a quiet current of faith. Y/N wasn’t praying. She was analyzing.

Her fingers traced the hull, mapping out the pitting from sand erosion, the carbon scoring along the intake vents, the microfractures spiderwebbing across the surface. Heat residue. That meant energy retention. That meant—

"Think it’ll fly?" Lee’s voice broke through her thoughts. He stood just behind her, rifle slung loose, his gaze sweeping over the vessel with a mix of hope and skepticism.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her head, already formulating possibilities, probabilities, limitations. "I don’t know," she admitted, but the words thrilled her. Not in uncertainty, but in possibility.

Her hands moved instinctively, pushing against the skiff’s frame, testing its stability, density, material integrity. The hull composition felt wrong—light but strong, too smooth to be traditional alloys. Not purely terrestrial. Some kind of composite—low-weight, high-tensile resilience.

The intake vents told her more—angled for atmospheric entry, but the heat scoring was shallow. This thing hadn’t been through a rough descent. It hadn’t crashed. It had landed. Her pulse ticked up, the rush of discovery washing over her, every neuron firing at once.

"This isn’t just wreckage," she muttered under her breath. "It was left here."

Lee frowned. "What are you saying?"

She stepped back, surveying the machine as a whole, not just its parts. "Scorch patterns are too controlled for a crash. The way the sand's drifted against it—it's been here a while, but not long enough for total burial. And the material—" she pressed her palm flat against the hull "—it’s still holding latent heat. That means an energy core. That means—"

Lee caught on before she even finished. His breath left him in a short, sharp laugh. "—it might have power," he finished.

Y/N nodded, her mind already racing ahead. If there was power, there was a chance. The skiff wasn’t just a symbol of escape. It was a machine—a problem to solve, a system to understand, a puzzle begging for hands smart enough to unlock it.

For the first time in too long, she felt the familiar pull—not just survival, not just endurance, but science.

"If we can get inside, if the controls are intact, if we can access the core—" she turned to Namjoon, who was still watching her, still measuring her words against his faith.

"We might not be stuck here after all."

The group fell silent. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as if waiting for the verdict. Y/N’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms, not in doubt but in determination. For the first time in days, she wasn’t just reacting to survival. She was chasing it.

She looked up, toward the endless stretch of sky. For once, it didn’t feel like a ceiling. It felt like a destination.

Perched atop the ruined ship, Peter reclined in the only way Peter could—utterly unbothered, delicately indulgent, as if this wasteland was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to his standard of living. A toast point rested between two fingers, smeared with glistening caviar, because apparently, nothing—not even being marooned on a hostile planet—could persuade him to lower his standards.

The heat wavered in thick, rippling waves, and yet Peter sat immaculate, his linen trousers untouched by dust, grime, or the creeping dread curling at the edges of reality.

He lifted the toast toward his lips, prepared for the luxury of a bite, when— Scrabbling.

Soft. Imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t listening. A faint, almost instinctual sound. Dirt shifting. Small rocks tumbling. The suggestion of movement.

Peter froze. The toast hovered, suspended between indulgence and survival, as he tilted his head toward the edge of the ship. His sharp gaze narrowed. His hand lowered the toast with slow, deliberate precision onto a neatly folded napkin. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, brushed nonexistent dust from his trousers, and peered over the side.

Nothing. Just the dirt ramp, the heat waves, the small rocks still rolling a little too lazily, as if something—or someone—had climbed up. A muscle ticked in Peter’s jaw.

"This," he muttered under his breath, voice edged with his usual dry sarcasm, "now qualifies as the worst fun I’ve ever had. Stop it."

The wasteland offered no reply. The silence was thick, viscous, wrapping around him, pressing against his skin. The heat crackled off the ship’s hull, and suddenly, the toast and caviar felt obscenely misplaced.

Peter grabbed his war-pick—the ornate, polished relic, absurd in his hands, its weight foreign despite its promise of violence. He descended cautiously, every footstep deliberate, scanning the fractured shadows of the hull.

Still—nothing. His pulse was too fast. He did not like this.

“Leo?” Peter’s voice was low, edged with tension. "Oh, Leo… if this is one of your charming pranks—"

A voice rang out.

“What?”

Peter nearly dropped the war-pick. Leo’s voice was too casual, too far away. That meant—whatever had been up there with him, hadn’t been Leo. Cold certainty locked around Peter’s spine.

His tension sharpened into movement, feet carrying him faster now, deeper into the ship’s fractured belly, where he found Leo and Bindi, elbow-deep in a stubborn storage container, dirt streaking their faces. Both looked up, annoyed.

"Tell me that was you," Peter snapped, his grip tightening on the war-pick.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “Okay, sure, it was me. What’d I do now?”

"You’re assailing my fragile sense of security, that’s what,” Peter shot back. His voice cracked—just slightly—betraying his nerves.

Bindi straightened, her sharp gaze zeroing in. “He’s been right here, mate," she said, unimpressed. "What are you going on about?"

Peter opened his mouth, but— A shadow moved. A flicker across the fractured beams of sunlight slicing through the hull. The three of them froze. The air thickened, pressing in on all sides.

“Daku?” Bindi called, voice tight.

No response.

Leo darted to a narrow crack in the hull, pressing his face to the dusty glass. His breath fogged the surface as his gaze locked onto something.

Daku. Outside, hunched over the graves. Moving slow. Deliberate. Leo’s voice dropped to a whisper. His lips barely moved when he spoke the name they had all been avoiding.

"Jungkook."

Peter went rigid. The war-pick slipped in his sweaty grip. Bindi didn’t hesitate—she ripped the weapon from his hands in one clean motion, her body already moving, her muscles tensed like a spring waiting to snap. Leo followed, boomerang gripped like a lifeline.

The shadows deepened. The air grew heavier. And then—he appeared. Bindi swung first. Her aim was perfect—too perfect. The war-pick sliced through the air— and missed.

“No—!" Leo’s voice cracked. Panic ripped through him.

The man staggered back, arms raised defensively. Not Jungkook. Sunburned skin, blistered raw. A gaunt frame, weak, trembling. He clutched the lever of an emergency cryo-locker, his breath ragged, desperate.

"I thought—" he rasped, voice hoarse. Relief bloomed across his face. His eyes darted over them, hopeful, human, just a survivor—

The gunshot tore through the moment. Louder than the wind, louder than the sky. The bullet hit center mass. Blood sprayed across Bindi’s arm. The man’s body jerked, crumpled. His eyes went wide, confusion etched into his sunburned features before the light in them went out. A single breath. Then silence.

The group turned. Daku stood yards away, pistol still raised. His hands trembled. His chest rose and fell too fast.

"I thought it was him," Daku stammered. His voice cracked, unraveling. "The murdering ratbag. I thought—"

Leo’s face was ashen. His throat bobbed as he whispered, "He was just somebody else."

Daku’s gaze dropped. His hands fell limp at his sides. The pistol slipped from his fingers, clattering against the dirt. His knees buckled. His voice��wrecked, broken, crumbling.

“I thought it was him.”

And in the shadows behind the graves Jungkook watched. Still. Calculating. Amused. The goggles over his eyes caught the light, glinting. For a breath, he lingered, his gaze flicking to the breather strapped to Daku’s chest. Assessing. Weighing. Measuring. Then—like smoke he was gone. Leaving behind nothing. Just the echo of his presence and the weight of a mistake they could never take back.

The skiff crouched on the cracked earth like a carcass picked clean by time. Its fabric wings, once sleek and functional, hung in limp surrender, their edges frayed by wind and heat. The sand had already started reclaiming it, creeping up the landing gear, seeping into every exposed seam. Whatever this ship had been, whatever mission had left it here, was long over.

But it still had answers.

Y/N dropped from the cockpit, her boots crunching against the gritty surface below. She straightened, brushing sand off her hands, her mind already unraveling the mystery beneath the wreckage.

“No juice,” she called over her shoulder. Dead cells, fried circuits, a nest of corroded wiring—this thing hadn’t powered on in years.

Lee stood a few yards away, rifle slung over one shoulder in that lazy-but-ready way of his. He was watching her work, but also watching everything else.

“Controls are fried,” she continued, fingers running over the sun-bleached hull, searching. “Wiring’s a mess, but maybe we could adapt—”

“Shut up.”

Lee’s voice was sharp, cutting through her sentence like a blade. His hand came up, commanding silence. Y/N froze. Not because he had spoken—Lee was an ass, and abrupt orders weren’t new—but because of how he had said it.

His entire posture had shifted. The lazy stance was gone. His body was tight, coiled, head tilted slightly—like a wolf catching the scent of something just out of sight. Predator mode. Y/N’s stomach knotted.

“What?” she asked, voice low.

Lee didn’t answer immediately. His eyes swept the horizon, scanning the jagged rock formations, the dunes shifting lazily under the heat. The air around them felt wrong. Too still. Too heavy. Like the world itself had paused, waiting for something to happen. Y/N’s fingers drifted toward her knife, her pulse accelerating.

“Like my pistola,” Lee muttered.

Y/N frowned. He was hearing gunfire?

No—not gunfire. Something else. Before she could ask, the silence fractured. A sound—soft, metallic, deliberate. Like a latch being tested. Like steel on steel. Like someone was inside the skiff. Y/N’s grip tightened. She glanced at Lee. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He heard it too.

“From the ship?” she whispered.

“Maybe.” His voice was clipped, low. “Or it could be him.”

Jungkook. The name didn’t need to be spoken aloud—his presence was a constant shadow, thick and inescapable. Even when he wasn’t there, he was. A shiver traced down Y/N’s spine, but she swallowed it. Fear wouldn’t help. Answers would. Her focus snapped back to the skiff.

If she could find a serial number, a registry plate, even a manufacturer’s mark, she could start piecing this together. Where had it come from? Who left it here? And more importantly—what planet were they even on? She ran her hands over the hull, searching.

The paint was stripped, the weathering extreme, but beneath the peeling surface, she spotted a faint etching—small, almost invisible, tucked just beneath the intake vent.

Her pulse spiked. Identification markings. Y/N dropped to her knees, yanking out her multi-tool. The tip of the blade scraped carefully over the surface, clearing away grit and oxidation. There. Her brain moved fast.

“PT-221…” she whispered, deciphering the numbers as they appeared. A familiar format.

“This is a personnel transport skiff.”

Lee glanced toward her, but his focus was still half-outward, scanning the horizon. “That mean anything?”

Y/N exhaled hard, her mind racing.

“PT-series ships were manufactured in the Helion System. Specifically” —she brushed away more dirt—“On Prime. However, this one looks weird. An older model from Aguerra Prime or Earth. I'd sixty years, but there's a lot of copycat rebuilds out there. Depending on where we are, it's unlikely that anyone would leave a ship for sixty years with no plan of retrieving it.”

That meant something huge. If this skiff had been manufactured in the Helion System or any of the others that she mentioned, then it had originated from human-inhabited space. That meant they were somewhere mapped. Somewhere reachable. Which meant—they weren’t lost. Not completely.

“This is good, Lee,” she said, voice breathless with revelation. “If I can get into the onboard system—if the black box is still intact—we might be able to pull location logs. Nav data. Even a distress signal history.”

Lee wasn’t looking at her. His grip had shifted on his rifle, tighter. His jaw clenched. Y/N’s excitement fractured.

“Lee,” She barely whispered it.

He didn’t blink. His face was off. For a second, Y/N thought it was just the heat. The pale sheen on his forehead, the way his fingers flexed against the grip of his rifle—subtle signs of dehydration, maybe, or just the endless tension grinding them all down to bone. But then she really looked.

His breathing was wrong. Not labored, exactly, but uneven, like his body was reacting to something before his brain could catch up. His pupils looked a little blown, his skin too clammy for the dry heat pressing down on them. He was sweating, but not the normal kind. A slow, cold kind. Like someone had just ripped a secret out of his chest.

"Lee." Y/N’s voice dropped an octave, sharp with something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name. "What’s wrong?"

No answer. His jaw flexed. His fingers twitched, just once, against the trigger guard. Y/N’s stomach twisted. She barely had time to register it—to react, to decide if she should be worried or just pissed off—before Lee suddenly exhaled hard, shook himself like a man breaking out of a fog.

Then, just like that, his entire expression changed. The tension? Gone. The weird, distant look? Gone. He rolled his shoulders, blinked twice like shaking off a bad dream, then turned toward her with forced nonchalance.

“Sorry—what?” His voice was too normal, too casual, like he hadn’t just short-circuited mid-thought. “Say that again?”

Y/N stared at him. His breath was steadier now. His hand had relaxed on the rifle, no longer clenching like he was waiting for something to spring out of the dark.

But his skin still looked a little too pale under the sunburn. His lips pressed together too tightly. Like he knew she had clocked it. Like he was daring her to push the issue. Y/N narrowed her eyes but didn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and turned back to the skiff. "Nothing important, Lee. Just, you know, information that might actually save our lives."

She dropped to her knees again, blade scraping against the etchings on the hull, scanning for anything else. Serial numbers, flight logs—hell, even a maintenance sticker would help. Something to tell her where the hell this thing had come from. Because if she could figure that out, then maybe she could figure out where the hell they were.

The grave site shimmered under the twin suns, the heat so thick it seemed to press against Daku’s chest with every breath. The ground cracked beneath his boots as he dragged the dead man’s body across the dirt, the sled groaning under the weight.

The sound was grating, a harsh scrape against the silence, but the world swallowed it whole. Daku was alone.

The shipwreck loomed behind him, just out of sight, the sun-tarp sagging under the oppressive weight of dead air. The shade did nothing. It just made the place feel more hollow.

He braced himself, hands on his knees, and tried to ignore the way his lungs felt like sandpaper. Sweat burned down his back, soaking into the fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t stop.

The grave wasn’t deep. Couldn’t be. The ground was fighting him, resisting every strike of the shovel like it didn’t want to give up its dead.

Then he saw it. Something in the dirt. Daku froze. Half-buried at the bottom of the shallow grave, nestled beneath the loose soil, was an opening. Not just a crack in the earth. Not a burrow. Something else. Too smooth. Too deliberate.

He knelt, breath hitching, his fingers brushing over the edges of the hole. The walls were lined with something fibrous, a texture that wasn’t quite plant, wasn’t quite animal. Dried husks, webbed together in intricate layers. Organic, but wrong.

His stomach twisted. He reached for the handlight clipped to his belt, flicking it on. The beam cut through the dark, illuminating the tunnel’s slope.

The walls reflected faintly. Not like rock, not like dirt—something else. Something that almost looked wet. Then the smell hit him. Acrid. Chemical. Like something had been burned too clean, stripped too sterile.

Daku tilted the light. The tunnel curved downward, disappearing into a place the light couldn’t reach. And then—it moved. Not the tunnel. Something inside it. A ripple. Small at first. Then again. Daku’s heart slammed against his ribs. At first, it looked like shadow, just the way the light played against the uneven walls.

But then he realized it wasn’t the light moving It was something in the dark. Something that was watching him. Then it lunged.

The edges of the burrow split apart with a wet, tearing sound. Like flesh peeling open. A tendril shot out, fast—too fast. It wrapped around Daku’s wrist, cold, slick, unnervingly strong. Panic detonated through him.

He yanked back instinctively, but the thing was stronger. Its grip tightened, pulling him toward the tunnel. Daku screamed. His free hand fumbled for his pistol, but his fingers couldn’t get a grip. The thing’s skin—if you could call it that—was slick, shifting, like oil trying to hold a shape.

Finally, his hand closed around the gun. He fired. The shot shattered the silence. The muzzle flash lit up the hole for a split second, and in that moment, Daku saw it.

Not just a tendril. Not just something reaching. A mass. It was writhing, growing, expanding from the darkness. Daku fired again, his pulse a drumbeat in his skull. The tendril spasmed, rippling like disturbed water. The grip loosened.

Back at the ship, Peter flinched so hard the toast point in his hand toppled, caviar-first, onto the dusty hull. He stared at it. Then at the horizon. Then back at the toast. Then back at the horizon. His mind scrambled for an answer that didn’t exist.

Leo’s head snapped up, boomerang held tight, his knuckles bloodless against the grip.

“That was a gunshot,” he whispered. Like they needed the reminder.

Bindi didn’t hesitate. She dropped into a crouch, war-pick in hand, her eyes locked onto the grave site. Something had happened. Something bad.

Peter scrambled down the side of the ship, his usual swagger gone.

“Tell me that wasn’t just me,” he said, voice pitched too high. “You heard it, right? I’m not going mad?”

Bindi didn’t even look at him. Her focus was all horizon, all muscle, her expression unreadable.

“Course I bloody heard it.” Her voice was clipped, sharp. “The question is, what are we gonna do about it?”

Leo swallowed hard. “That was Daku, wasn’t it?” His voice cracked. “It has to be him.”

Bindi’s head snapped toward him. “Don’t assume.” Her voice was hard, commanding, no room for argument. She rose from her crouch, grip shifting on the war-pick. “Could be anything,” she said. “Or anyone.” A beat. “We stay sharp.”

Leo’s green eyes flickered with something raw. His grip tightened.

“If it wasn’t him…” His voice was barely audible now. “…Then what?”

Peter opened his mouth, ready to quip, ready to deflect—but the look in Bindi’s eyes stopped him cold. She wasn’t joking. This was real.

He shifted uncomfortably, licking his lips, eyes darting toward the ship. “I’m just saying… maybe we think before running headlong into—” He gestured vaguely. “Whatever that was.”

Bindi cut him off.

“Stay here.” Leo flinched, but Bindi didn’t soften. “If anything moves that isn’t me or Daku,” she said, “you scream like the world’s ending.”

Peter opened his mouth again, but she was already moving, slipping toward the gravesite, war-pick held ready. Leo and Peter watched her go. The heat rippled around her, warping the horizon into something unreal.

Leo exhaled sharply, crouching beside Peter, boomerang in a death grip. “…Do you think it’s him?”

Peter didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. His gaze was locked on the grave site. Because something was wrong. He could feel it. Finally, he swallowed, dragging a hand down his face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He glanced toward the horizon, his brow furrowing. “But whatever it is…” His voice dropped. “…It’s close. Too close.”

The second gunshot shattered the graveyard’s silence, the sharp crack tearing through the thick, suffocating heat. The bullet found its mark.

A tendril snapped apart in midair, black ichor spraying outward in a violent arc, sizzling where it struck the dry earth. The air reeked instantly—something acidic, chemical, a stench that clung to the back of Daku’s throat, making his eyes water.

But the thing didn’t stop. The next tendril lashed out, wrapping around his calf before he could react. Then it pulled.

Daku hit the ground hard, his back slamming against the dirt with a dull thud. His breath ripped from his lungs, the wind knocked out of him as he slid toward the gaping burrow.

The thing wasn’t just strong. It was fast. He aimed blind—fired blind, his pistol flashing bright in the gloom. The muzzle flare lit up the nightmare for half a second.

A tangle of limbs. Writhing. Folding in on itself. Not solid. Not liquid. Something in between. The bullets tore through it, but it didn’t bleed right. It shuddered—jerked, rippled like disturbed water—but the tendrils kept coming.

One sliced across his chest, razor-thin but unforgiving, carving deep into his skin. Daku gritted his teeth against the pain, his vision blurring at the edges. His free hand scrambled for purchase, fingers clawing at the dirt, but the earth beneath him was giving way.

The grave was getting deeper. Or maybe he was just getting pulled in. His boots dug into the edge, small rocks tumbling down into the void below. Daku kept shooting, kept fighting, even as his grip weakened.

Another shot. Then—something different. One bullet hit deep. Not just flesh. Something inside it. The thing jerked back for a split second, a violent convulsion rolling through its mass.

Daku felt a spark of hope. But hope never lasted long on this planet. The creature lurched forward with renewed fury, its remaining tendrils snapping around his arms, his waist, his throat.

Everything constricted at once. His lungs spasmed. His vision narrowed. The last scream he tried to release died before it even left his throat.

His gun slipped from his fingers, tumbling into the abyss. Daku was going under. The ground crumbled beneath him. His boots skidded, slipped- Then he was gone. Yanked down. Swallowed whole.

The grave collapsed inward. The dirt settled. The sled sat untouched, its cargo neatly stacked, as if nothing had happened at all.

Overhead, the twin suns burned on. Their heat didn’t care. Their light reached everywhere. Except down there.

Deep in the burrow’s black throat, something shifted. The sound was wet, sickly, like flesh being pulled apart and put back together again. The darkness pressed down, thick and suffocating, as something dragged itself deeper. The creature retreated, its tendrils folding inward, pulling Daku’s motionless body into the abyss.

Deeper. Deeper. The light from the surface faded to nothing. The planet consumed him whole. And the silence that followed was final.

The ground burned through Bindi’s boots, the heat relentless, but she didn’t feel it. She sprinted across the packed, unforgiving earth, her breath tearing from her throat in ragged gasps. The twin suns bore down, their light merciless, the air thick and smothering, clinging to her skin like a second, unwelcome layer.

The makeshift sun-tarp came into view, its edges flapping against the crooked poles, the sound barely a whisper over the thunder in her chest.

She felt it before she saw it. Something was wrong. Bindi skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust. The world tilted slightly, her stomach dropping as she yanked the fabric aside—

And froze. Jungkook was standing there. Still. Silent. Waiting.

He was on the far side of the grave, body eerily relaxed, one hand hanging loosely at his side. In it, a bone-shiv. The blade gleamed faintly, catching the light in a way that shouldn’t have felt threatening—but did.

He didn’t flinch at her arrival. Didn’t step back. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, the slight tilt of his head the only indication that he even acknowledged her presence.

His goggles hid his eyes, but Bindi felt them—felt the weight of his stare like a blade against her ribs. Her gaze dropped and her lungs locked. The grave was empty.

The sled overturned, its contents scattered across the dirt like the remnants of a struggle. Blood smeared the earth, thick, dark, soaking into the fractured ground.

And at the bottom of the pit, something worse. A hole. No—a burrow.

Its edges weren’t normal, weren’t clean or mechanical or natural. The fibrous lining trembled, quivering like raw nerve endings, as if the planet itself had breathed a wound open.

Bindi’s body went cold, even as sweat stung her eyes.

She saw it then- Daku’s boot. Just the boot. Lying a few inches from the grave’s edge. Torn. Scuffed. One lace half-untied, like he’d been dragged right out of it.

Her scream tore through the air. "Daku!" Her voice broke, raw, desperate. "DAKU!" The grave swallowed the sound.

Jungkook still hadn’t moved. The silence around him was louder than her cries, pressing down like a living thing.

Bindi’s hand tightened around the war-pick, both hands now clutching it as though it could anchor her, keep her from falling into the same void. Her chest heaved, her throat aching from the scream, but her rage cut through the fear like a blade through flesh.

Her voice shook, but her fury didn’t. "What did you do?"

Jungkook tilted his head, lips barely twitching. A smirk. Or maybe not. Maybe just a reflex, something almost human, but Bindi knew better. He didn’t answer. Didn’t even acknowledge the accusation.

Her gaze snapped back to the grave—the blood, the torn earth, the quivering maw of the burrow. Something else had been here. Something alive. Something that wasn’t Jungkook.

Her breath hitched, the pieces snapping together in her mind with the speed of pure, visceral instinct. "What is down there?"

It wasn’t a question for him—it was a question for herself. Jungkook finally spoke, his voice low, measured, almost curious.

"Not me."

The words crawled under her skin. Her legs weakened. The hole at the bottom of the grave pulsed faintly. Bindi felt it. Like it was waiting.

Jungkook flicked his head toward the burrow—a gesture so small, so deliberate, it made her stomach lurch. He wasn’t explaining himself. He was telling her to look. Telling her to understand.

Her fingers tightened around the war-pick’s handle. And then—she broke. Her scream ripped from her throat, raw and violent.

"Liar!"

The word shook the air. Jungkook didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue. Didn’t deny it. He just turned. His body moved fluidly, like an animal slipping back into the shadows, a creature untouched by morality, by fear, by regret. And he walked away.

Bindi stood there, breathing hard, hands shaking, staring at the grave like it might come alive beneath her feet. It already had. And whatever had taken Daku was still there.

Waiting. Watching. Hungry. Her chest heaved, her grip white-knuckled on the war-pick. The silence returned, heavier now, an oppressive weight of knowing. And she thought, for the first time, that maybe the real question wasn’t what happened to Daku. Maybe the real question was— How much time did they have left before it came back for them too?

Jungkook ran.

His body moved like liquid through rock, weaving through the towering spires that clawed at the sky like the fossilized ribs of some ancient, long-dead colossus. The terrain twisted violently, sharp-edged canyons and jagged drops designed to kill the unskilled, but Jungkook flowed through them without hesitation. Every step was measured, every movement deliberate, his muscles adjusting instinctively to the unpredictable ground beneath him.

The planet breathed heat and silence, thick and watchful, as if the land itself was waiting for the inevitable collision between predator and prey.

The boots behind him never stopped. Lee was close. His footsteps were methodical, unhurried despite the speed, a hunter keeping his quarry exactly where he wanted it. Then—

CRACK.

A gunshot split the air, shattering the fragile quiet. Jungkook felt it before he registered the pain—a sharp, white-hot kiss slicing across his shoulder. The impact sent him off balance, his body crashing into the ground in a violent sprawl.

Dust exploded around him, thick and blinding. He tumbled, skidding hard, his skin tearing against the brutal terrain. His lungs seized, inhaling grit as his momentum carried him forward—too fast, too out of control—until his body came to a bone-rattling stop.

Jungkook braced, muscles tensed to spring back up, keep moving, keep running— He never got the chance.

A boot slammed onto the back of his neck. Hard. Hard enough to rattle his teeth. The force drove him down, his face pressing into the burning dirt, the rough grit scraping against his cheek. His fingers twitched, instinct clawing at his spine, screaming at him to fight, fight, fight, but the weight was unrelenting.

Lee. Jungkook didn’t need to look. Didn’t need to see the satisfied smirk he knew was on the bastard’s face. Didn’t need to hear his smug, infuriating drawl to know exactly what was coming next.

“Same crap, different planet, huh?”

Jungkook’s breath came shallow and steady, his muscles coiled like a trap waiting to spring. The heat of the twin suns pressed against his exposed skin, but it wasn’t what burned.

Lee leaned in, his boot grinding just a little harder against Jungkook’s spine. “You’re fast. I’ll give you that.” A casual chuckle, like they were discussing the weather and not locked in a decades-long, vicious game of hunt-or-be-hunted. “But you should’ve figured it out by now—” He bent closer, his breath warm against the back of Jungkook’s neck. “You can’t outrun me.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his breath still even, controlled. Lee wasn’t invincible. No one was.

Lee shifted slightly, his shotgun gleaming in the sunlight, still pointed directly at Jungkook’s skull. “I’ll admit,” he continued, his voice dropping to something almost amused, “for a second there, you almost had me. Thought you might actually make it.” A pause. A beat of silence, stretching taut. “But here we are.” Lee sighed dramatically, pressing just a little more weight into his hold. “Same story, different setting.”

Jungkook’s fingers twitched against the dirt. His mind moved faster than his body, calculating every shift in weight, every possible angle to escape. Lee was underestimating him. Not enough to be careless—not yet—but enough to assume this was over.

Jungkook tested the pressure against his neck, shifting just slightly. Lee noticed. The boot pressed down. Hard.

“Don’t,” Lee warned, voice dropping into a growl.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, forcing his body to still, to wait, to let Lee think he’d won. His lips twitched. A fraction of a smile. Lee’s grip on the gun tightened, the movement subtle—a hunter sensing the shift in the air, the moment before a predator strikes.

He leaned down, close enough that Jungkook could feel the smirk in his voice. “Go on,” he whispered. His breath was warm. His tone was taunting. “Try something. I dare you.”

Jungkook’s body went still. Too still. The silence stretched unnatural and tight, buzzing with something unspoken, unreadable. Lee frowned slightly. Jungkook smiled.

By the time Y/N and the Chrislams stumbled back into the settlement, the twin suns hung low and merciless, stretching shadows across the cracked earth like skeletal fingers reaching for something they could never quite grasp.

And then she saw him. Jungkook. Sprawled in the dirt. His wrists shackled, his body wrecked.

One lens of his goggles was shattered, exposing the swollen ruin of his right eye, a bruise blooming deep and dark beneath the glass. Blood caked his face, dried in jagged streaks along his jaw, pooling at the corner of his split lip. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths—the kind that meant he was keeping himself from making a sound, from showing weakness.

The dirt beneath him was stained with sweat and blood, mixing into the dust like he was being absorbed into the planet itself. And standing over him, fists still trembling, was Lee.

His knuckles were raw, his breathing sharp, his entire body locked tight like a spring stretched too far, too long. He wasn’t gloating. He wasn’t even speaking. Just watching. Waiting. Y/N felt the violence in the air before she heard it.

Lee’s voice came low and razor-sharp. "I don’t play that." His fists clenched again, his jaw tightening like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will. "I don’t play that, so just try again." His breath was heavy, sharp, every word weighted with rage barely kept in check. “C’mon, Jungkook. Tell me a better lie.”

Y/N moved without thinking. She grabbed Lee’s arm, yanking him back hard. "Ease up!" she snapped, her voice slicing through the oppressive silence. The moment her hand connected, she felt how hot he was—burning with anger, with exertion. His pulse hammered beneath his skin, barely contained.

Lee didn’t turn to her. Didn’t move. And then—Bindi screamed. It was raw, guttural, the kind of sound that didn’t just come from the throat—it came from the bones, from the marrow, from something breaking inside.

She lunged.

Her fist hit Jungkook’s jaw so hard his head snapped sideways, blood spattering from his already-battered lip. His body didn’t even flinch, like he had already been beaten past the point of feeling it. Y/N reacted instantly, throwing herself between them, shoving Bindi back with both hands.

“Bindi! Stop!” she shouted, struggling to hold her back.

Bindi fought against her grip, her whole body shaking, tears streaking clean paths through the dirt on her face.

"You bloody sick animal!" she screamed, her voice splintering. "What’dja do with my Daku?"

Jungkook didn’t answer. Didn’t even lift his head. His expression was eerily blank, his face tilted just enough that one shattered lens reflected the fading light like a dying star. Y/N’s heart slammed against her ribs.

She turned to Lee, eyes blazing. “Where’s Daku?” she demanded. “What the hell happened out here?”

Lee finally looked at her. His expression was unreadable—too tight, too locked down. His fists unclenched slowly, like it was taking all his effort not to hit something else. With a sharp nod, he gestured toward Jungkook.

“Ask him.”

Y/N dropped to a crouch beside Jungkook, her voice shifting—softer, but no less urgent.

“Jungkook,” she said, staring at the wreck of his face, at the mess of blood and sweat and silence. “What happened to Daku?”

For a moment, he didn’t move. His chest rose and fell, slow and even, like he was holding on to the only thing he could still control. Then, finally—he lifted his head. His cracked lips parted. But all that came out was a rasping sound. Low. Broken. Like the faint whisper of someone who had screamed themselves hoarse.

His eyes flicked to the horizon. To the jagged spires looming in the distance. Then back to her. His lips moved again. A single word, barely audible.

"Gone."

The world tilted. Bindi let out a choked sob, her legs buckling as she sank to the dirt. Lee’s jaw locked, his knuckles going white as his fingers tightened on the stock of his rifle. Y/N’s stomach plummeted. The weight of Jungkook’s answer pressed down on all of them, thick as smoke, suffocating.

She swallowed hard. Forced the words out. "Gone where? What do you mean gone?"

But Jungkook didn’t answer. His head tipped forward, his chin resting against his chest, his entire body folding in on itself like the fight had finally bled out. Like there was nothing left. Like he had already decided—whatever happened next wasn’t up to him anymore.

Y/N and Lee stood at the edge of the grave, their shadows stretching long over the ruined earth. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, the kind that only came after something had gone horribly, irreversibly wrong.

The scene was a crime scene without a body, a massacre without a corpse. Blood streaked the dirt in wild, erratic patterns, like the desperate brushstrokes of a painter losing control. The grave itself was a wreck, its edges collapsed inward, as if the ground had been alive when it happened, twisting, convulsing, devouring.

Nearby, Daku’s sled lay overturned, its contents scattered across the dirt—a mess of supplies, tangled cables, a crushed water jug. A single boot, scuffed and worn, sat half-buried in the dust, the laces flapping lazily in the wind. But Daku was gone.

Not a body. Not a single trace of him. Just this. This wreckage of struggle and silence. At the bottom of the grave, the hole yawned open, its edges lined with something fibrous and strange, something that looked almost… organic. It pulsed faintly in the breeze, like the twitch of a dying thing.

Y/N swallowed hard. It didn’t look natural. Nothing about this looked natural.

Beside her, Lee crouched, his sharp eyes scanning the ground like he was reading a language only he understood. In his hands, the bone-shiv gleamed, its smooth, curved edge catching the last slivers of dying sunlight. He turned it slowly, letting the light skim its surface, watching how it reflected in sharp, fleeting flashes.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. “He used that?” she asked, her voice low but tight. She didn’t know what answer she wanted.

Lee didn’t look up. Just kept turning the shiv over, like it was some kind of sacred artifact. “Sir Shiv-a-Lot,” he muttered, dry and detached. “He likes to cut.”

The words settled like poison in her gut.

“So why isn’t it bloody?” she pressed, her voice sharper now, her eyes flicking between the blade and Lee’s unreadable face. “If Jungkook did this—if he killed Daku—then where’s the blood?”

Finally, Lee looked at her. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth, but there was no humor in it—just something cold and bitter, something dark sitting behind his eyes.

“Maybe he licked it clean.”

The joke hit like a slap. Unwanted. Cruel. Y/N recoiled slightly, shaking her head as if trying to dislodge the thought. She turned away from the grave, her arms crossing tightly over her chest, her breath uneven. The wind picked up, whipping dust around them, as if the planet itself was shifting, restless.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she muttered, her voice nearly swallowed by the wind. “None of this does.”

Lee stood, brushing the dirt from his hands, slipping the shiv into his belt. He glanced down at the grave one last time, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark.

“It’s not supposed to make sense,” he said, his tone flat, emotionless. He turned to her, his silhouette washed out against the light. “It’s just supposed to scare the hell out of you.”

The cabin felt too small. Too damn small. The walls creaked, thick with heat and the weight of unspoken things. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and the faint, metallic tang of rusted iron—or maybe that was just him.

Jungkook was slumped against the wall, his shackled hands resting lazily in his lap. His dark hair was damp with sweat, half-hiding the wreck of his face. One lens of his goggles was shattered, exposing a swollen eye already blooming in shades of deep purple and red. Blood stained the cut of his jaw, a slow, sluggish trickle from his split lip. He looked like hell.

But he looked at her. And that was what made Y/N hesitate for half a breath too long. She stormed in, boots hitting the floor hard enough to rattle the metal beneath them. She was pissed. But more than that—she wanted answers.

“Where is he?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the thick, suffocating air.

Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, but his stillness was a lie. The tension was there, coiled beneath the surface like a blade waiting to strike.

“I’m serious,” she pressed, stepping closer, her fists clenching. “You told them you heard something right before it happened. What was it?” Her jaw tightened. “Talk, or I’ll let Lee finish what he started.”

Something dark flickered across Jungkook’s face—a twitch of amusement, a shadow of something cruel. And then, in a voice roughened by exhaustion and something else, something deeper, he rasped,

“You mean the whispers?”

Y/N frowned. “What whispers?”

Jungkook’s busted lip curled into something feral. Dangerous. Amused.

“The ones that tell you where to cut,” he murmured. His voice was so casual it made her skin crawl. “Left of the spine. Fourth lumbar down. That’s the sweet spot.” He smiled, slow and lazy, like a man reciting a bedtime story. “Gusher. Every time.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t look away. Didn’t let him see that he’d rattled her. Because that’s what he wanted.

“Stop it,” she snapped. “Just stop.”

Jungkook didn’t. He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes half-lidded like this was all one big joke. “Metallic taste, you know.” His voice was silk stretched thin over barbed wire. “Human blood. Coppery. But add a little peppermint schnapps…” He dragged his tongue over his split lip, smirking when her expression didn’t change. “Almost palatable.”

Y/N clenched her teeth. She could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell the sweat and iron on his skin. He was playing with her. She wasn’t in the mood.

“Why don’t we skip the theatrics and try the truth?” she said coldly.

For a moment, Jungkook just watched her. His smirk softened—not gone, but different now. Something quieter. Something that almost looked like… regret.

“You’re all so scared of me,” he said softly. “Most days, I’d call that a compliment.” His voice was low, nearly lost to the hum of the ship. “But today…” His jaw ticked, his fingers flexing against the cuffs around his wrists. “Today, I’m not the monster you need to be worried about.”

Something in her chest pulled tight.

She took a step closer. “Take off the goggles.”

Jungkook went still. “No.”

Y/N didn’t wait for permission. She reached out and yanked them from his face, snapping the broken strap with a sharp crack. The goggles hit the floor.

Jungkook flinched, like she’d stripped away something vital. Then his eyes opened. Y/N froze.

His pupils were wide, swallowing the dim light. But it was the color that stopped her breath. A ring of shifting hues, flickering between deep emerald and burning amethyst, like oil-slicked glass catching fire. It was mesmerizing. Unnatural. Beautiful.

Her voice came out lower than she expected. “You did this to yourself?”

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh. “Slam doctor.” He tilted his head. “That’s what we called him.”

Y/N nodded. “I’ve heard about it. Never seen it.”

“Lucky you.”

His lips curled, but the smirk didn’t reach those strange, hypnotic eyes. “You’re locked in max-slam. Barely any light. Your eyes feel like they’re burning out of your skull.” He flicked a glance toward the slats of light bleeding through the metal walls. “Some back-alley butcher says, ‘Hey, I can fix that.’” His voice dropped, mocking. “And then you end up here. Three suns frying you alive. Makes you wish for the dark.”

Y/N folded her arms. “You think this is funny?”

Jungkook’s smirk sharpened. “You gotta laugh, sweetheart. Otherwise, you cry. And crying makes you thirsty.” He tapped his temple with one shackled finger. “Pro tip for desert living.”

Y/N let out a slow breath. “You killed before. You don’t deny that. But this one? Daku? You expect me to believe you didn’t?”

Jungkook went still. For a fraction of a second, something cracked in his expression. Then, it was gone—buried beneath that infuriating smirk.

“No, ma’am,” he said smoothly. “Not this time.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Then where is he?”

Jungkook leaned forward, just enough for the heat between them to become noticeable. The chains at his wrists rattled softly, but his focus was all on her. “Look deeper,” he murmured.

The way he said it—low, deliberate, dripping with something she didn’t like—sent a cold, involuntary shiver down her spine.

“What does that mean?” she demanded.

Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. He tilted his head, studying her like he was measuring how much she could take before she broke. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper—a voice that sent her stomach twisting with something she didn’t want to name—he said, “Wrong questions.”

She swallowed hard. “What are you talking about?”

Jungkook sat back, his expression unreadable. Deadly.

“Daku ain’t the only one who’s not where he’s supposed to be,” he said softly. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

A chill slid down her spine. His words settled in her chest like a loaded gun.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook tilted his head, his bruised lips curling slightly. “You’ll see.” His voice was calm, certain, almost amused. And then—softer, darker, almost like a promise: “And when you do? You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

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

Taglist: @fancypeacepersona @ssbb-22 @mar-lo-pap @sathom013 @kimyishin

[justaaveragereader]

Slashtober🔪||OT8

Pairing: OT8 x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: MeanDom!Ateez, Sub!Reader, Name Calling, Gang Bang, Ass Fucking, Unprotected Sex (Please Dont😀), Spanking, Spit, Tit Smacking, Breast Play, Bukkake, Dacryphilia, Oral, Cum Eating, Rough Sex, Degradation, CNC, Choking, Marking, If I Missed Anything🫣👀Lemme Know..

A/N: I can’t believe I was able to get this done before 12am😵‍💫, I tried my best to get this done before midnight, bc I wanted to make sure I posted it on Halloween. I can’t believe it’s officially over now, thank you to everyone who supported me. Rather it was with a like, reblog, a comment, an ask, anything tbh. I received so much love this October and I’m grateful and appreciate to every single one of you😭💙. Also special thanks to @seonghwasbobaeyes for betaing the first half of this fic, you are muchly appreciated babes😚! This isn’t the end of the road for Slasher!Ateez👀, we will DEFINITELY be seeing them again! I’m already thinking about what I’m going to write for November tbh..😚. My asks will be opening due to October being over, so send in your requests!

Kinktober Masterlist

Ever since your last visit with the two masked men, you had been itching, yearning for more. They left you with an undying last in your mouth. You craved them, how sinners crave sin. They were addicting, they were like a forbidden fruit.

You hadn’t heard a peep or even seen a peep of them in weeks. You had been on the lookout constantly, trying to find any trace of them. It's like your neighbors knew you were on the fence. Making sure to greet you everyday, going out of their way to make sure you were happy. They so easily picked up your emotions. It's like you bonded with every single one of them. Wanting to get into better spirits you decided to throw a small Halloween party inviting the guys from the neighborhood as a way to say thanks for all they do, and thanks for being there for you.

You were at home prepping the food when suddenly the lights went out in your home. Letting out an annoyed huff you make your way to your circuit breaker box. Walking past your bedroom you notice a figure in your room, hiding behind the wall, you try to steady your breath clearly worked up and scared by what you saw, you quietly try to creep down the hall when your lights cut back on. Wanting to see if it was your eyes playing tricks on you, or if there was someone actually in your home you slowly make your way to the bedroom. As soon as you cut the corner to your room you see one of the masked men in your bedroom, sitting on your bed, man spreading widely. Energy as heavy as stone, he sat like he owned not only your hole, he sat like he owned you, and every move you made. Getting up slowly, he walks towards you, slow long strides.

Putting his hands up on the frame of the door. His muscular body takes up the whole door frame.

“And where are you running off to, pretty girl?”

Your eyes grow big, backing away slowly, your back bumps into a hard frame behind you. Looking up you see Mingi towering over you, staring down at your helpless frame.

“Don’t you look cute in your pajamas.” Mingi says with a large smirk on his face, running his fingers over the lace trim on the bottom of your sleep shorts. Jongho walks over to you, peeling his body off of the door frame. His large frame crushes you between him and Mingi. You can barely see his eyes through the mask, yet you can feel the intensity radiating from the person beneath it.

“Wh-what’s going on…” you whisper out through a shaky breath. Gripping your hips Mingi pulls your ass against him, grinding his hard on, onto you. Jongho moves closer, his chest completely crushing you. Gripping the front of your pajama shorts he plays with the lace on them, letting his hand slowly fall to the front of them, gradually untying the ribbon that keeps them up. Loosening the shorts, they fall dangerously low on your hips.

“What do you think is going on darling?” Seonghwa says, smooth voice floating out beneath his mask, making his way into your bedroom room. He seats himself on the bed. Man spreading his legs wide open, your eyes drift over the female plastic mask he’s wearing, down to the bricked cock beneath his skin tight pants. When Jongho squishes your body even further in between him and Mingi.

“I-I don’t kn-.” Your sentence gets cut off when the other two masked men enter, the largest one of the group takes up the whole door frame, while the shorter broader one stands in front of him. With his head cocked to the side. A shiver runs up your spine. Your brain can barely process what’s going on in front of you. All you want to do is flee but it feels like your feet are cemented to the ground.

“Look at her.” Yunho says, stepping forward into the room, clearing his large stature out of the door frame. San lets out a loud chuckle, making his way towards you.

“She looks like a deer caught in headlights.” San says through a laugh, walking on the other side of you while Yunho goes on the opposite. Caging your body in by all four men, while Seonghwa sits on the small bed watching you.

“I know you guys aren’t starting the game without us.” Wooyoung whines out, walking into the room, face paint smeared across his face yet with the lack of the red lights you can see clear as day that it’s Wooyoung. Trying to strain your neck between the men who are caging you in.

“Wooyoung, what’s going on?” You whisper shout, as if the men couldn’t hear you in the same confined room. Letting out a loud laugh, he walked over, looking at your poor helpless frame. Your body does a noticeable shiver.

“Do you want me to save you?” He says through a fake coo. Yeosang stands in the doorway, leaning his muscular form against it. Looking at you behind his mask he makes his way slowly over. Pushing through the cage the boys have you in.

“No…I think she wants all of us to help her out.” He says while he runs his gloved hand up your body. Starting from your chest, running it between your breasts, settling his covered hand around your throat. It's like deja vu, you start getting various flashbacks of each time one of these men have rearranged your guts, and practically broke your spine.

“Do you need saving darling?” Seonghwa says, standing up off the bed, making his way towards you with long slow strides, the men who caged your body slowly back away, making room for Seonghwa. His tall frame easily towers over yours. Soaking you in from head to toe.

“Of course not Seonghwa she doesn’t need saving, she needs to be fucked like the slut she is.” Hongjoong says, gripping your throat pulling your body against his invisible one. Manhandling you with ease, you swear you can see every person in the room, eyes darken instantaneously.

“Is that what it is dear? You need us to bend you over and rearrange your guts?” Seonghwa says, gripping your chin lightly while Hongjoongs hand continues to hold you tightly. Letting out a small whimper your eyes dart around to every man surrounding you in this room. Your lower belly grows hot with need. Hot with want, hot with flashbacks of every orgasm you’ve had with the individuals in this room. You open your mouth, just to close it once more, not exactly sure what words you are trying to speak. But you can tell by the way they are crowding you, and the way you are drinking them all in. You want nothing more than for them to break you.

~

Wrapping your hand around Yeosangs cock, you continue to pump his dick up and down. Fist tight to make sure he gets as much pleasure as possible. Gripping your chin in his hand, San turns your face towards him, cock deep down your throat, with his other hand on the back of your head, you gag with every powerful thrust he delivers to your throat. Eyes watering with unshed tears. San lets out a loud laugh, gripping the back of your head even tighter. Slamming his hips into your mouth..

“Look at this slut crying. Go on baby, cry on my cock.” San grits out, the pleasure that your warm mouth is giving him is becoming too much. Hongjoong lines himself up with your entrance, not even giving you time to prep, he slams his cock deep into your cunt. Body driving forward your nose bumps against Sans pelvic area. Letting out a loud sadistic laugh, he starts out at a rough pace, jack hammering your body forward. Causing a quick rhythm between him and San. Your hand starts to fall slack around Yeosangs cock. Gripping your head, Yeosang turns your face towards him.

“Do it right slut.” He grits out, squeezing your cheeks so tightly that he can feel Sans cock slide in and out of your mouth.

“Stretch her out.” Seonghwa says, the heaviest presence in the room. He stands up, hard cock in his hand, he slides under you. Your breast jiggling in his face, gripping your left breast, he runs his long cool tongue over your nipple. You squeeze your eyes shut, too immersed in the pleasure.

Mingi makes his way behind Hongjoong who is hammering away at you, collecting the drool that is hitting the floor from the way San is making you choke and gag on his cock. He wets his fingers, sliding them down to your puckered hole, you let out a moan so loud that all the boys can hear you. Sliding one finger in, your eyes grow huge, tears starting to run down your face by all the pleasure you are feeling.

Gripping your face harshly San gathers all the spit in his mouth, letting it slowly drop down to his cock, hitting your lips, it aids in the drool on the floor. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the taste of him. You can taste him in more ways than one, and it has your head clouded with nothing but hot lust.

“Such a whore who loves to be degraded.” San grits out, watching you suck him down your throat.

“Look at her crying again.” Yeosang says while your grip tightens and untightens on his cock. Mocking you through a fake coo. Letting his hand travel down, he grips the breast Seonghwa isn’t paying attention to, squeezing your nipple, just as he’s squeezing Mingi slips his second finger in your ass trying to stretch you out as much as possible. Tears are running down your face rapidly, your pussy clenches on Hongjoong, letting out a loud groan. He slams his hips up into you once more before pulling out, chest heaving up and down. Holding his orgasm back, wanting to save it to paint your body.

Wooyoung lets out a small laugh, clearly enjoying the view of you getting rag dolled all over the place, sliding into the place of Hongjoong, he taps his cock against your wet cunt, sliding his cock in between your wet pussy lips, making sure with every thrust up he nudges your clit. Pulling back San bites his lip, gripping your head even tighter trying to fight the urge to cum all over your face, he slides back letting Yunho in. Letting out a choked cough, you intake as much air as possible. Trying to catch your breath before Yunhos large frame towers over your small body.

“Look at this slut..” he says while hooking your bottom jaw with his thumb. Jongho stands behind Yunho, getting an eye full of you, tilting his head to the side almost like he’s studying you.

“Wanting to take us all..” Jongho says, continuing Yunhos sentence.

“She wants us in every way…” Mingi finishes after Jongho speaks.

Moving on the side of your body, Mingi pulls his fingers out, feeling like you’ve been stretched enough, he lets Seonghwa know that you are prepped and ready for whatever he is ready to give you. Sliding out from under you, Wooyoung and Seonghwa trade spots. With his wet fingers Mingi slowly strokes his cock while Seonghwa slides in between your wet cunt. Making sure that he soaks his cock with your juices that are practically pouring down, he lines himself up with your puckered hole. Sliding in slowly, inch my inch. Your eyes scrunch shut, the feeling of him sliding in your ass is unlike any other feeling you’ve ever felt. You grip Yunhos thighs for stability, just as you are about to let out the loudest moan, Yunho slides his cock into your mouth, instantly stuffing it. Wooyoung lines himself up with your sopping cunt that is dripping down onto his cock, your arousal just leaking all over him. Yeosang and Jongho stand on opposite sides of you, large bodies towering over your frame. Bunching your eyes shut, Wooyoung slides easily into your pussy. Shooting your eyes open you let out a loud, muffled moan. Placing your hands out, trying your best to find your balance while Seonghwa is fucking your ass, Wooyoung is deep in your cunt, while Yunhos large cock is deep down your throat.

Gripping Yeosangs and Jonghos cock in your hand, you slowly start to pump them, making sure to pay extra attention to the head of their cocks. With each stroke the members are giving you, you are seeing heaven behind your eyes, Seonghwa continuously slaps your ass cheeks while he strokes deep in your puckered hole, watching your ass cheek welt with each deep stroke he delivers to you. Wooyoungs balls are dripping with your arousal, inner thighs shining with your juices. While Yunho grips the sides of your face, making sure you take his cock as far as your small throat will let him.

San, Mingi, and Hongjoongs degradation fill your ears. Making you on the brink of the most powerful orgasm.

“Look at this hungry cock slut.” Hongjoong says, slowly stroking his cock, watching everyone have their turn with you.

“Look at her crying over how good all of our cocks are…” Mingi grits out, grabbing his balls while he beats his cock. Making sure to collect the drool that leaves your mouth on his hands so he can stroke himself with ease.

“Nothing but a cock sleeve for all of us.” San says with his head tilted back, stroking himself, matching the rhythm at which they all are fucking you.

Mingi makes his way over to Seonghwa, watching the way his cock slides in and out of your ass. Gripping one cheek so it’s easier for Seonghwa to get a feel of your warm wet hole. He gathers the spit in his mouth letting it drop onto your puckered hole. The cool sensation differs from the warmth of Seonghwas length sliding in and out of you. Hongjoong lets out a small chuckle at the way you whine every time someone spits on you, he makes his way towards Yunho, holding the sides of your throat, giving it a slight squeeze your breathing stutters, with his hands tightening around you throat he can feel Yunho slide in and out, the feeling is delicious, the lack of oxygen heats your body up.

Wooyoung reaches up, squeezing one of your tits in his hand while he strokes his cock in and out of your warm walls. Giving your nipple a pinch, you let out a muffled whine. Reeling his hand back he slaps your tit, the sudden feeling of the impact causes your jaw to drop, eyes fluttering in immense pleasure. He lets out a high pitched laugh, slapping your other tit, you feel the skin of your breast heat up with each heavy slap. The warmth that spreads through your body, has your toes clenching, you feel your orgasm charging its way through your body. Before you can get yours, Seonghwa is going to make sure all of them get theirs.

“You know what she’s only good for..” Seonghwa spits out through clenched teeth, pulling back swiftly, Wooyoung, and Yunho pull back as well. Urging you to sit on your knees with your mouth open. The members gather around you, stroking their cocks rapidly. With a loud groan, all of them cum almost in sync. Opening your mouth last minute you have drool running down your chest, with your tongue sticking out, trying to catch as much of their cum on your tongue as you can.

“This whore is only good for catching cum.” Seonghwa pants out. As they watch their cum drip down your body, it pools right between your legs, creating a small puddle. Letting out a low growl, Seonghwa moves forward first. Gripping the back of your throat he shoves you face down into the floor.

Running his hands down your back, he hikes your hips up into the air, your sticky chest comes in contact with the floor, creating a tacky feeling on your skin.

Cock already brick hard again, he taps it against your puckered hole, slipping in with ease once again. You let out a loud cry, throat sore from all the throat fucking you still let out loud moans with each buck of Seonghwas hips. Making his way over swiftly Mingi grabs your shoulders, lifting you up so your back is flush against Seonghwas chest, he lays down cock standing straight up, maneuvering you Mingi brings you down on his cock with the aid of Seonghwa. Letting out a loud cry once more your body falls forward, becoming chest to chest with Mingi. Gripping your neck Seonghwa pulls you back up, fingers tightly wrapping around your throat, destined to leave marks.

Wooyoung and Yeosang stand on opposite sides of your body, gripping your breast, before giving your chest a firm slap. Your body jolts forward, yet with Seonghwas tight grip on your throat you go nowhere. All the other members make their way towards you with their heavy, cum dripping cocks in their hands.

“You are going to be a good girl, and take all of our cum.” Seonghwa grunts into your ear before hiking his hips forward, biting your lip, you nod your head. Chest heaving with want. Mingi lets out a deep groan..

“Fuckkkkk…she’s dripping down my cock. Are you going to make a mess on our cocks, princess?” Adjusting his hips slightly, Mingi hikes his hips up into yours. Gripping your ass cheeks so you are spread even further for Seonghwa. The members step closer to you both.

“You are going to swallow all of their cum, then you are going to take our cum in this tight ass, and wet cunt of yours.” Seonghwa says knowingly, letting out a loud whimper by the authority in Seonghwas voice you nod as much as you can with his fingers still tightly wrapped around your throat.

Giving your ass a hard slap, Mingi jiggles the cheeks of your ass.

“Alright princess, who do you want to swallow first?”

Taglist: @araknoid @atinytinaa @k-hotchoisan @darkdayelixer @abby-grace @aurorasjoongie @tunaasan @jkookiejiminlvr @luckyblue98 @notevenheretbh1 @moonlightsora @raindropsondragons @park-simphwa @ro-written @hwajoongsang @certifiedmoa @pearltinyy @minniebinnie @solarstoy @frobin4ever @gvnwks @ethelia @jin-neck-shaft @nitarolls @jenthehobbityelf @gg-trini @tearfulsparks78 @10nantscompanion @moonm1st @oreoqueen @leehopehocarat @scuzmunkie @bangtan4everr @acetruepunk @s-unflowxr @rxnexxi @tenpesos @mixling-blog @helsnik @mrspettersen @mixtape-racha @realviviboss @mikaelless @queenoftrash97 @boomfrogg

Dividers and GIF @justaaveragereader

DO NOT REPOST.

[leirastar]

new world | chapter 7

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 1.2k | 5 minutes A/n: SORRY FOR THE LONG UPDATE! I OFFICIALLY TURNED 20 this week!!! that's why i didn't update this past week. i will be gone for a week because i will be going abroad to travel! please wish that i will arrive safely! and chapter 8 will come soon after! Warning: none that i know of

There was something raw in his voice, something unyielding, like an oath carved into stone. His words pressed into you, heavy yet comforting, leaving no room for doubt. You believed him—you couldn’t not believe him—because Yunho was not a man who made promises he couldn’t keep. The air between you thickened, charged with a weight you didn’t know how to carry, the pendant on your chest suddenly feeling less like a gift and more like a lifeline.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as you stared at him, the golden-brown of his eyes glowing softly in the dimming light. His presence was overwhelming, like a shield and a storm all at once, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“you can’t say things like that..” you whispered, though your voice wavered, betraying the ache in your chest.

“what I say are the truth.”

His voice was low, deliberate-as though the words were a vow only you were meant to hear.

The faintest curve of his lips appeared, a ghost of a smile, as though he knew the effect his words had on you. For just a second, the tension cracked, and you let out a shaky breath, followed by the smallest, disbelieving laugh—soft and barely audible, but enough to ripple through the air.

“My uncle will never let me hear the end of this.”

Yunho’s brow furrowed faintly. “Your uncle?”

You laughed softly, though the sound carried more nerves than amusement. “He’s been teasing me endlessly about some apprentice in Caius. He thinks I’d leave the outskirts if I fell in love.”

Yunho’s expression darkened slightly, the faintest flicker of something sharp passing across his face. “And what do you think of that idea?”

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the quiet edge in his voice. “I told him no,” you admitted softly. “I don’t want to go back to the capital. Not after my parents…”

Your voice trailed off, the thought lingering heavy in the air. Yunho’s gaze softened, his golden-brown eyes holding yours with a quiet understanding. “I understand.”

You looked down at the pendant again, the jewel pressing coolly against your chest as your fingers traced its edges. “The outskirts are home now. It’s quiet here. Safe.”

Yunho’s voice broke the silence, gentle but carrying a quiet weight. “And if you were to leave the outskirts—would that be so bad? Perhaps with a gentleman?”

Your heart stuttered, the quiet question threading itself into the silence between you, the quiet hanging heavy between you as the meaning of his words settled like a stone in your chest. Slowly, you turned to face him, your breath catching at the way his gaze held yours—steady, golden, and far too close.

“No,” you said finally, voice soft but certain. “I don’t think it would.”

Something shifted in Yunho’s expression—a soft, almost relieved smile that eased the sharp lines of his face.For a long moment, neither of you moved, the space between you charged with something unspoken—something that pulled at you like gravity. You could feel the warmth of his hand even though he wasn’t touching you, the air between you so still that even the faintest movement might shatter it.

You swallowed, your pulse fluttering wildly. “Thank you…for the pendent”

The words felt insufficient, too small to contain the moment.

Yunho’s gaze held yours, steady and unwavering, as though he was searching for something—an answer you didn’t yet know how to give. Slowly, his hand lifted, his knuckles brushing faintly against your cheek. The touch was feather-light, as though he wasn’t sure he had the right, but the warmth of it sent a tremor through you, your breath catching in your throat.

The silence around you deepened, the distant hum of the wind fading into nothingness. It was just the two of you, the world narrowing to the space between his hand and your skin, to the way his golden-brown eyes softened as they lingered on you.

Your heart pounded, loud and insistent, each beat echoing like thunder in your ears. He was close now—close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his breath against your lips, sending shivers trailing down your spine. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as though any sudden motion would break the fragile tension holding the moment together.

Yunho’s thumb brushed against your cheek, the touch deliberate but so achingly gentle it nearly undid you. His gaze dipped, lingering at your lips for just a heartbeat too long before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Yunho…” you whispered, though you didn’t know what you meant to say.

His hand stilled, his thumb hesitating just below your jaw, as though holding you there, as though asking a silent question neither of you dared to voice aloud. For one suspended moment, you thought he might kiss you—his lips just a breath away, the space between you humming with electricity.

so close.

But then, he pulled back, so slowly it felt like a quiet unraveling. His hand fell away, leaving your skin cold and aching for the touch that had been there just a moment before. The absence of it sent a shiver through you, one that had nothing to do with the wind sweeping across the hills.

Yunho leaned back slightly, his expression carefully composed, though something lingered in his eyes—something unspoken but undeniably there. His gaze shifted to the horizon, as though to steady himself.

“We should head back before the wind picks up.”

You exhaled shakily, the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipping past your lips in a quiet rush. You nodded mutely, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turned away, focusing on gathering your things.

But even as you mounted your horse, your fingers clumsy against the reins, the moment lingered—like the phantom warmth of Yunho’s touch on your skin, like the way his eyes had dipped to your lips, only to pull away.

You didn’t dare look back at him right away, afraid of what you might see, but you could feel his gaze on you still—trailing after you like a shadow, heavy with the weight of what almost was.

And as the wind swept around you, tugging at your cloak and hair, you couldn’t stop your thoughts from lingering on the space between his hand and yours, on the closeness of his lips. The pendant pressed cool and heavy against your collarbone, a quiet weight that settled deeper than it should have.

The cold lingered there—where his touch had been—like a whisper of something unspoken, a promise carried on the wind. A promise that he would come back.

And somehow, you believed it.

Masterlist

six | eight

Taglist (CLOSED):

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

@laurtiny112 @innocygnet @the-first-mate @miniverse-zen @katyeongs @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @sweetmoonlight9 @staytinyluv @bluesiebirdie @kaqua @ateezaddict24 @bamdoe @kandy108 @pixie0627 @bunnii-dolls @kheartost @xlilehx @lalelol @Tiny2018 @salnovna @roryy95 @fairylover68 @meowmeeps @awkward-fucking-thing @blackandgreenandblue @moniesmoon @skteezcursed

[peoniesnro]

Chapeter Index

In Another Universe

Synopsis- When you're just another iteration of Park Jimins girlfriend in a different universe.

Genre- Parallel universe au/ Strangers to ??/ Smut/ Angst/ Fluff/ Infidelity

Warnings - Smut / Infidelity/ Language

Status - Ongoing

Taglist?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter #1. Park Jimin

Chapter #2. A Lil' Roll

Chapter #3. Perfect Strangers

Chapter #4. F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Chapter #5. A beautiful memory

Chapter #6. A day in paradise

Chapter #7. GOOD FUCKING BYE!

Chapter #8. The Burning Pit of Fire

Chapter#9. Make It Right

Chapter#10. The Other Woman

Chapter#11. Jeon Jungkook

Chapter#12. RUINED and DESTROYED

Chaprer#13. Falling Deep and Down

Chapter #14. Beginning of the END

[heedeungism]

say yes to heaven (say yes to me). | teaser

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⭒ ice prince!sunghoon x fire princess!reader 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⭒ the crown prince of the ice kingdom is not known for having objects of affection. perhaps the fiery princess of the fire kingdom is all that is needed to thaw his frozen heart. (route 1 of the eternal flame saga) 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒 ⭒ alcohol, cursing, the beginnings of a panic attack, dwagons 𝐄𝐒𝐓. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⭒ 10k> (teaser is 1k) 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 ⭒ this is only a small snippet of a longform fic i’ve been working on since house of the dragon started up again, so obviously it’s inspired by that. however i did need to fix the whole incest = dragons so i made up this whole concept that, while obviously inspired by hotd, is incest free! i have other fics in this same universe outlined(hence the ‘route 1 of the eternal flame saga’), but i will be focusing most of my attention on this fic until it’s done!

masterlist. rules. request.

The House of Frost’s sigil is arguably one of the more simple of the Great Houses. A banner of pale blue, a white emblem of stark beauty, a dragon. Next to sigils of the other Kingdom’s, it appears as icy as one would imagine.

The Houses of Earth and Wind fly flags of more neutral colors, ivories and browns. The Water Dragon Kingdom’s a royal blue and Sky Dragon's a pale pink, but none so beautifully bright as his.

Yet, you see no sign of it as you sit at the head of the dining hall beside your brother.

Tourney’s you’ve attended usually start with a dinner the first day, then a melee or joust the second and third, a tour, maybe even a hunt if so desired by the king, or Prince Regent in this case. Your brother seems keen on being exceptionally annoying, booking your schedule for the week with barely enough time to bathe let alone avoid the eyes of the realm.

So, now, you sit at the large dinner, and realize you have yet to see the sigil you were so expecting.

Riki leans down at his station standing close behind you, “I imagine the Northern Sea is rather backed up this time of year.”

His jest does not impress you, “He could arrive on dragonback if he so cared.” As you finish your childish claim, the doors open.

“Prince Sunghoon of the House of Frost. Heir to his throne.”

Your sworn knight nearly snorts, as a tall male arrives. He has no company, only the sword at his hip as he prowls toward the table you sit.

Ten years had changed a lot. No longer did he have the sickly look about him, his skin even and his shoulders fuller with what you can only assume is muscle. He carries himself with a confidence you could never compare to princes like Yeonjun of the Earth Territories, who holds his head too high and carries too cocky of a smile for you to respect him outright, or Sunoo of the Sky Archipelagos in the west who’s bashful countenance somewhat underwhelmed you considering the story attached to his crowning.

Prince Sunghoon is sure of himself, you can see it in the slight sway of his shoulders and his wide gait, but he doesn’t carry that confidence with the arrogance you expected of the Prince of Crystal Snow.

He’s beautiful. Fuck.

“It appears he does care, your highness.”

Riki snickers as you quickly bite back, “Shut up.”

“Prince Sunghoon, I thought we were to expect your family on the morrow?” Your brother muses, and the prince bows at his waist in greeting.

“My mother, the queen, fell ill. I come alone.” He said, his voice is much deeper as well, though that’s to be expected.

“I wish her good health, then.” The Prince Regent wishes a genuine prayer. The ice prince bows his head, his gaze only moves to you when you speak.

“And your knight?”

Your brother kicks your foot under the table at your tone, yet the prince only offers a gentle smirk with another honest bow, “Ser Jaeyun arrives tomorrow. He found a ride on dragonback to be…unpleasant.”

Riki coughs, and you fight the tug at the corner of your mouth with a sip of wine, “Pity.”

“Is Ser Jaeyun to participate in tomorrow's celebrations?” Your brother asks, the joust, and the prince shakes his head.

“I would prefer, Your Grace, myself to participate,” His gaze flicks to yours, and an unyielding warmth plants its roots at the bottom of your spine, creeping up the longer his eyes keep you in their sights, “If you would allow it.”

Your brother seems all too pleased at the news, “I see no reason to object. What of you, Princess?”

Sipping the wine in your cups does nothing to ease the nerves of your heart, “By all means.”

He bows once again before a servant guides him to his table, where a visibly excited Prince Sunoo waves him over. The other princes gather at that table, mingling and laughing together.

While you sit at the grand dining table sipping from your cups like it’s life’s water, the dress you were put into squeezing your abdomen uncomfortably.

“I do hope we have enough sheep to keep the dragons fed.” Your brother muses, observing the table of dragonheirs before glancing your way.

“Most of them keep themselves fed,” You dismiss, “We shouldn’t deplete our people’s resources for an event this needless.”

“Your words wound me, sister.” He pouts, quite unbecoming of a Prince Regent.

“Then may you bathe in the salts of Azora.” The bite to your words makes your brother sigh, he startles slightly when you slam your goblet back onto the table beside your plate of picked-at food, “My cup is empty.”

A servant hastens forward to refill it, a shaky apology falling from her lips, which has you regretting your outburst immediately. When she moves to retreat back to her position hovering near the wall so as to not be seen, you grab the pitcher from her hands and say, “I’ll keep this, please.”

The word falling from your lips seems to surprise her, before she panics and bows, “Of course, my princess.”

Riki snickers as the servant hastens away to make herself useful elsewhere, biting his cheek when you hiss, “Shut. Up.”

When you face forward once again, your eyes scanning the room, your gaze is caught in another.

Smoldering flames meet biting frost, and a burning tug travels up your gut and into your throat. It’s pure instinct that tears your gaze away, an attempt to free your body of the dreadful feeling.

It lingers in your chest even as you take a hefty swallow from your cup.

I am dragonfire. You repeat to yourself, a rush in your veins. The wine makes your skin hot, and the corset around your torso only makes catching your breath all the more difficult. The litany does not quell the flames in your chest.

I am dragonfire. I am the flame's heart. I am unburnt and I am the Princess of Eternal Flame.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[justbelievinginmagic]

BEWITCHED - part 1: we're not in munchkinland anymore.

pairing(s): witch!seonghwa x witch!reader ft. honjoong & san. mini-series summary: all your life you've had this spark - a touch of magic to your heart. as a munchkinlander, it was both a blessing and a curse. after all, two horrible witches had ruled over the land - all your life you had been asked: would you be a good witch or a bad witch? you wanted to be a good witch. and, finally, you would be! the day arrived; you were going to shiz university, the most-esteemed magical college in oz! you were prepared to work hard and make your dreams come true. but when you stumble upon cold bullies and an even colder sorcerer-in-training named park seonghwa who seemed to captivate you at every turn, will you be able to achieve your magical goals or will you fall under his spell? warnings/tags: inspired by the musical and movie adaptation of wicked, magical college AU, wizard of oz AU, set at shiz university, fem!reader, 3rd person POV, use of YN, set after a divergent-wicked timeline (where the wizard or a wizard still rules), magic, angst, some bullying, oz references and lore, use of ozian vernacular, nervousness, second-hand embarrassment, mentions of panties/corset, name calling. let me know if there are more tags needed. word count: ~4.5k

It had been known throughout Oz, for as long as the Time Dragon Clock tick-tocked, that the only place to become a grand sorcerer was Shiz University. Established, expensive, and exclusivatory, the university was known throughout the land as the cradle to success. Anyone who wanted to be anything went there – or to the Wizard to have their heart’s desire granted. But, of course, a meeting with the Wizard was rare. So, the only other option to success was hard work. Work hard to one day get to Shiz University.

Staring up at the ancient buildings of Shiz, YN couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration. She had made it. Spiraling towers, open-air patios, water canals weaving in and out of the architecture, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t in Munchkinland anymore.

A shoulder bumped into her, making her huff and stumble over the aged tiles. She righted herself with a small huff, a familiar zing in her chest making her pause and take a deep breath. That was the last thing she needed to happen. The bustling crowds of students surrounded her like a sea. Some in the perfectly-pressed navy-blue jackets and horizontal-striped uniform dresses of Shiz with the silver-stitched emblem proud across their chest. Others were like her, dressed in their best-to-impress as they entered the grand corridors of Shiz as a new student. It reminded her of stories of masquerades in grand ballrooms – their outfits were all so different and extravagant. Pinks of the lightest shades, deep-rubied vermillion, bright yellows, all in the strangest textures and designs. Far different from her own dress fabric but never the less fantasticamagical!

YN felt out of place like a lost air balloon amongst the clouds. Clinging to her luggage case, she took a tentative step away from the open-air waterfront. As she moved ever forward into the college, she realized just how different everything was here. The air was cool and humid; the sound of sea-salt water trickling between the canal-filled paths babbled; there was the smell of fresh-Ozma petals blooming on the large leaf-pads floating across the shimmering water. It was really nothing like Munchkinland, and its sprawling country-sides. There was no smell of Ozwheat-ground bread, of fresh upturned soil, fragrant tulips in every shade of the rainbow, or the towering blossom stalks of sweet-flowers.

It was strange.

Swallowing, she hugged her brown suitcase closer and continued to walk further into Shiz. The honey-soft yellow of the buildings was complimented by a once-royal, now-pastel blue in the awnings and in delicate hand-painted décor across the buildings. Sunshine flickered past the shingled rooftops to cast the center of Shiz in a golden glow. It was beautiful. A different beautiful than what she was used to, but an optimistic jingle in her heart said she could like it here.

Another person pushed past her purposely, and this time it sent her tumbling to the ground. A laughter grumbled from the crowd, surprised but cruel. A mean-looking girl with a pointy nose laughed as she crowed out, “Watch where you are going, little farm girl!”

“She’s used to being that low to the ground I bet,” another encouraged with a sneer.

YN’s face crumbled at the words. Eyes burning before her face flushed. All her things toppled across the bustling court-yard – her books scattered, her dresses tumbled, her keepsakes rolled. Her suitcase had broken open. The clasp was worn and old compared to the new fancy luggage the rich (but mostly their entourage) toted along, but she didn’t think it was that old.

Embarrassment burned more fervently than that spark in her chest. Her focus to split between the pain of in her knees, the hurt from their words, and the panic of needing to grab her things now.

YN didn’t understand their uttertodious rudeness. She wasn’t the first nor the last to attend Shiz as a Munchkinlander. She hadn’t expected the dirty looks, the cruel laughs, the cold whispers, the foul name-calling. How did they even know she was of Munchkinland? She wasn’t of Munckinland holy blood. She was no Eminent, nor of the upper-class. She was just… YN. Was that so offending? Was it her dress? Was that what they were whispering about behind their hands and falling into giggles? Was it hideoteous compared to the swankified fabrics of the upper-class? She didn’t think so. She had put on her prettiest – a dirndl-esque dress of a deep sapphire. Hand-embroidered vibrant poppies, delicate milk-flowers, and candy-chrysanthemums decorated the hem and décolletage. Fresh flowers decorated her pig-tailed hair; some had begun to wilt in the change of temperature, but they still were prettied pastel yellows, blues, and pinks.  Some of those petals now rested on the ground from her fall, crumpled.

She felt the burn flare like embers fanned by a wind. Her book pages rattled in a nonexistent wind unnoticed by the snickering students. Behind her, a man’s voice cleared itself, baritone and rumbly.

“Are you alright?” He asked beside her.

Oh, his voice so melodic it reminded her of the Lullaby League singers that would pass through Munchkinland during the holidays. It reminded her of honey being poured over fresh-bread, of warm summer nights in the fields, of a bed waiting for her to curl up in.  

Looking up at him, her breath was stolen. YN swore for a moment she saw a star, a wizard, a sorcerer, an otherworldly being. There, haloed in the light of the afternoon sun, was a man with hair as light as milk-flowers and a nose carved by an artist. His shapely lips pursed in a thoughtful yet neutral pout; his eyes were a dark shade of fresh-soil. And somehow, they twinkled with stars.

Or maybe her eyes were filled with hearts. She blinked. YN had never seen someone so beautiful. The burning spark in her chest faded with awe.

His hand outstretched to her after a moment.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, bleached brow raising faintly.

There was another blink of her pretty eyes before she was shaken from her stupor.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she insisted as she took his hand.

With ease, she was tugged to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered, pink cheeked.

The figure was tall especially so with his heeled boots. His presence was one she imagined only the Wizard to embody. Peace, stoniness, wisdom. He struck her with wonder. His gaze flickered from her, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips disappearing at the sight of her dresses tumbling away, her books’ pages fluttering in the wind, and, mortifyingly, her panties tumbling from her luggage.

“Um,” he cleared his throat, chin nodding in their direction.

Red cheeked and mortified, she went to grab the frilly underthings before sliding to her knees once more to catch all of her belongings from blowing away. Laughter rang out as students rushed around her things. Someone stepped on her leatherbound book of the History of Shiz.

Her savior, her star, hadn’t bent at the knee to help. He simply watched on, glancing at the student who was cackling at the Munchkinlander’s humiliation.

“Seonghwa!” A cry from the side caught her attention as a red-haired man, shorter than the white-haired star that had helped her, rushed forward. His arm slung over the taller’s shoulders - despite their size differences. Seonghwa bent at the knee for him, letting the red-head adjust him ‘til he was comfortable half leaning on his counterpart.

“Your Highness,” Seonghwa replied.

Highness! Her face only seemed to grow hotter and hotter. She knew Shiz had the rich and royal but she didn’t expect to a royal highness to be watching her gather her intimates and shove them into her luggage today. If her face could burn any hotter, she’d be a furnace.

“Here.” A stray hand held out a blue nightgown her way, and she grabbed it with only the quickest glance.

Sweet Oz, was this entire school flooded with beauty? A strong-shouldered man in decorated regalia was kneeling down to offer more of her items her way. He had collected a handful in his arms - a book, another nightgown, her corset! Grabbing it quick, she thanked him under her breath as she pushed everything into her bag messily.

“Making the ladies swoon and lose their panties already?” the red-haired man teased.

The burn in her chest returned almost as if it could incinerate her away ‘til she was nothing but dust. She wished she could disappear. She didn’t even notice her fingertips fading away, disappearing as she accepted another book from the handsome knight. They sparkled a ghastly transparent shape, almost like she was part ghost. San’s eyes lingered on her hands for a moment, eyes widening. She didn’t even notice that as she shoved a balled-up sweater into the bag.

“She stumbled and fell on her own,” Seonghwa commented. His tone felt cooler than before, almost defensive.

“I was tripped,” she muttered under her breath as she placed the last of her things in her bag.

With the last thing safely tucked away and her bag firmly shut, the broad-shouldered man gave her a soft smile, charmingly so, before he rose and returned to the Star named Seonghwa and his Highness.

“No harm in swooning anyone; stop acting like it’s some scandalacious thing,” the red-head chuckled as he peered down at the Munchkinland woman. His hand rose to tilt his rose-tinted glasses down the fine bridge of his nose.

He winked at her, and her face nearly matched his crimson locks.

“We aren’t here to swoon, Prince Hongjoong. We are here to—”

“Study, yeah, yeah. You okay, miss?” This Prince Hongjoong’s smile, or well, smirk was deadly. Playful, seductive, charming, all wrapped up in one.

“She’s from Munchkinland; I’m sure she’s familiar with being in the dirt,” someone said from the crowd.

Snorts and giggles erupted around. It made her ears burn as she finally stood back on her own two feet, with no help from the strange trio in front of her. The only reassurance was that they didn’t laugh, well, much. Hongjoong giggled out a high-pitched thing as San whispered in his ear. It didn’t feel cruel, more jovial, but still her ego was bruised.

They were laughing at her.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly, trying to cling to her words’ truth as tightly as she clung to her luggage.

Water-chimes rang out; hummingbirds playing them to the tune of the Shiz University alma mater. Everyone’s heads turned; some exclamations of excitement rang out.

“Orientation time,” she heard a girl from behind her say. “We have to get a good seat, c’mon.” A trio of girls pushed past and soon everyone was heading in the direction of the quad.

Orientation… so that’s what those bells were all about. It felt so utterly strange to not know. Everything was so different here, no bell towers here. Everyone seemed to know what things were – even something as simple as orientation’s starting call. But with that, her disturberanceand bullies left in a herd of Ozians scrambling to the main courtyard of Shiz.

She sighed out watching their attentions shift. Like she was nothing but an ant. Momentary entertainment before they casted her aside. She didn’t know it was going to be like this when she left home. Humiliating. Teasing. They weren’t children – why did they act so childish?

After working hard in her classes, after studying day-in-day-out, after facing endless scribing of papers, and even after facing nay-sayers who would taunt her with the words, “are you a good witch or a bad witch?,” she made it here. And she wasn’t going to let some rich-snobs make her feel lesser. So, what she didn’t have money or status? So what she came from Munchkinland? She was going to make it for herself – live an Ozian dream.

Munchkins were simple-folk – small-minded some would say, but not her. No, she believed they were clever. Innovative. They were responsible for feeding Oz; they were the Ozwheat Bread Basket of the lands; their rainbow-tulips techni-colored Oz! That had to stand for something. She was something.

She deserved to be here. She made it. She did it. She was equal.

The burning flame in her chest eased as she reminded herself this, sighing out as color flooded back to her fingertips.

Following after the crowd, she noticed that the trio stayed near her. Hongjoong’s stance was lazy, half leaning on Seonghwa who stood tall as ever, towering over both him and the strong-shouldered man who had helped her.

None were in the standard uniform – did that mean they were freshman like her? The Prince’s attire wasn’t exactly sloppy but mismatched. Dark velveteen pants hugged his legs tight. Laced up black boots with far too many laces climbed up his calves. He wore an ivory-white button up with far too many buttons, far too unbuttoned to be appropriate. A cream suit-jacket-esque sweater rested overtop that. The pattern on it held delicate handstitched purple-flowers… maybe gillyflowers? Was he from Gillikin Country? Regardless, he wore a strand of pearls around his throat, haphazardly. His rose-tinted glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a large oversized blue suede fedora hat hid most of his vermillion hair.

Meanwhile, the two accompanying him wore more uniformed outfits. The broad-shouldered one wore a black-suited ensemble with golden embellishments. A cape draped over his shoulder in deep purple. The one who she thought came from a Star had all white linens on, sharp shouldered and corseted tight around his already lean waist. They looked more royal than the so-called prince.

“You’re staring,” Seonghwa stated, blankly.

His gaze caught hers solidly. His gaze was all-consuming. Like he could see right through her. Read her thoughts. Great Oz… she was both intimidated and intrigued by him. He felt magnetic. Her stomach clenched. He tilted his head.

“Sorry,” she blushed.

“Again.” he added, brow twitching into a sharp raise.

His expression made her feel little, like he was throwing her back to the floor metaphorically. Because, he just had to point out that he noticed her staring earlier. He probably thought she was a creep or some dumb farmgirl like the students cajoled.

“Sorry… again.” she said, finally glancing away from him and walking towards an empty spot on a bench instead. She shifted to hold her suitcase in her arms, hugging it close to her chest. The spark twinkled and she didn’t notice aura she put off. A physical manifestation of her magic. It was a gentle aura; something that was more felt and less seen. It felt like dark clouds were hovering around her. A bubble to keep her safe and hidden, subconsciously.

He didn’t stop looking at her still. She knew because she snuck a quick glance and, when their eyes met in that flash, her cheeks matched the red poppies on her dress. The one with the cape chuckled; his eyes flashing to meet hers once more with a playful gleam. He was laughing at her. Sitting down in an empty spot on a bench, she turned her face away to look down the row of students seated next to her. She offered a soft smile about to introduce herself to the one beside her before one after one they scooted away. Glancing at her like she was the plague. “She’s the Munchkin girl; no, no, she’s not of any royal blood – shes just a charity case – maybe she—” Gossip trickled out as the other students sitting there shifted and moved until she was the only one sitting there. An outcast.  

What in Oz was this place?! She knew it was exclusivatory but not like this. So hateful. She wrapped her arms around her suitcase. Her chin rested on top of it as she looked around, making sure not to look at Seonghwa… A third scolding? From him? She’d rather melt into a puddle.

Once everyone had been seated, there was a great hum of a tune – the same alma mater that had twinkled out in chimes to summon them. Some students sang out with pride, knowing every word despite it being their first day. She knew it too; she had read it in her history book. But she refused to embarrass herself anymore today. If she could get through orientation without drawing anymore attention to herself, YN would be content.

Her spark kept a small bubble around her as if telling the world to not disturb her. She heard someone murmur something about, “do you see that odd shimmer around the new girl?”

As if not everyone was new… she pressed her chin into her arms firmer. Orientation and then she can get settled and try to start tomorrow on a better foot.

“Welcome students!” cried out a fancy-looking woman approaching the podium. Her dress was swirling with ancient blue magic; her hat a sharp point upon her head. A sorceress, no, a Witch! YN’s eyes perked up and she gazed up at the Witch in wonder. A real-life witch… a Good Witch of the North! How oztastic.

“Welcome, welcome to Shiz University. I am Madame Ozma, Headmistress here. Whether you are here to study logic, literature, or linguification, I know I speak for my fellow faculty members when I say we have nothing but the highest hopes for… some of you,” it was said in jest and a chuckle waved through the crowd.

“While all subjects are valued here at Shiz, I do want to bring some attention to two very lucky, very talented students that will be joining my sorcery seminar this semester. As you all know – sorcery is the life blood of Oz, and it’s a blessing and duty to cultivate any magic talent that shows itself. As rare as it is. It’s been decades since there have been two students studying sorcery concurrently. Their powers brought into a new age – as we all know.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Everyone knew of the Wicked Witch and Glinda the Good.

“Such a gift should be celebrated.” Ozma exclaimed out. “Uplifted. Guided towards the Light”

There was a scattering of applause. Her cheeks were burning red once more. Her head tilted downwards. The letter hadn’t mentioned this. Good Oz, she wanted to hide.

“Please rise, Miss YN of Munchkinland.”

A silence washed over the crowd in shock. All eyes snapped to her. Hongjoong let out a laugh in the silence, the sound bursting forth from his chest without a care. Blink, blink, blink; she felt like she was an art display of exhibition. Could she just ignore it? What would happen if she didn’t stand? No one really knew if she was YN after all?

“Don’t be shy.” The Headmistress encouraged.

Oh, Great Oz… With poppy-tinted ears, she slowly stood, ruby-cheeked and tight-smiled. That feeling of magic tingled in her chest, fluttering as her anxiety grew. It wanted to burst out – protect her from the murmur that rose through the students. Gossip rolled in wave as they leaned into one another. Whispering what? She didn’t want to know.

“Thank you, dearie. And, rise Sir Seonghwa of Gillikin Country.” She beamed out, encouraging a round of applause once more.  

YN’s gaze flashed to where Seonghwa rose as well, waving polite and light. Unlike her, he held such an elegance she didn’t have. Of course, he had magic! Of course, he was a Knight! She was sure he could control it better than she could ever control her wild thing of a magic spark. And now they were going to have private lessons together? After his friends made fun of her? After school-wide ridicule? After he reprimanded her for staring! She wanted to crawl into a corn field and rot.

“Our two sorcerers-in-training,” she declared over polite clapping. “We will be seeing lots and lots of each other.” Madame Ozma promised her and Seonghwa before nodding and allowing them to sit. The Headmistress beamed at the students before shifting her attention to another professor who began to prattle about dormitories, their roommates, and where the halls were located.

Sitting down quick, she wished she could just sink into the ground. How was she going to stand being around him? She blushed if he even so looked at her. How would she focus?

-

Once orientation ended, it was like a stampede. The students shuffled and hustled around her, rushing towards the many faculty who were handing out keys to their dormitories and pointing on grand scrolls and proclaiming, “Yes, yes, Ms. Gale, you are in the North Dormitory. No, you can’t trade roommates. Yes, its permanent.” Overlapping and overwhelming, the world of Shiz was back in swing – the orientation a flurry of too many moments and moving bodies.

YN stayed on the outskirts of the chaos, peering through a navy sea of uniforms to peer up at the many scrolls, listing out name after name. She’s already embarrassed herself enough for today; she’ll wait ‘til the crowd dispersed she decided.

“There must have been a miscommunication,” she heard Seonghwa’s smooth voice like a siren’s call. She couldn’t help but have her eyes flicker towards him. How could she hear him so well? It was like her body was already in tune with him – he was so far away and yet she could pick him out of a crowd. He was a beautiful flower surrounded by weeds.

Seonghwa’s face was crinkled, divine confusion making his upturned brows

“This isn’t right,” he continued, raising a polite hand towards a faculty member. “The Gillikin Prince requested a private apartment – for himself, Sir Choi San, and myself. But I only see his Highness and San listed.”

“Name?” the bunny-faculty member chirped out.

“Park Seonghwa,” he told him.

There was a shuffling of papers, the rabbit-professor humming and bumbling.

“Ah, yes, yes,” the rabbit nodded, his mouth chittering a bit as he chewed on the edge of his pen. “I see – no, no mix up, Sir Seonghwa. Thank you.”

“Where is my dormitory then?” Seonghwa snapped, his tone sharp and authoritarian before he swallowed and followed it up with a soft ‘please’.

“With Miss YN, of course,” It wasn’t the rabbit-professor who spoke but the nearby Headmistress. She walked forward; the rabbit-professor bowed in her direction and Seonghwa followed suit, bowing his head politely.

“YN, dear,” Madame Ozma called, “Join us.”

Seonghwa’s gaze turned and met hers – because, of course, like two magnets their eyes found one another immediately. It felt like she was caught staring for the third time. Bumbling, YN nodded and stood with her suitcase, walking forward.

“Yes, Madame,” she called, curtsying and bowing and rushing forward to the Headmistress. “Honor to meet you.”

“What do you mean I am rooming with Miss YN?” Seonghwa redirected.

Nearby, she heard Hongjoong giggled out manically. “This is perfect,” the red-head commented.

“Hush, your Highness,” Seonghwa scolded over his shoulder with ease, not even glancing at the Prince. Too natural, too routine, like he knew where the Prince was at all times without even looking his way. The Prince still giggled, and surprisingly San joined him in his mischievousness.

“Yes, Seonghwa, you will be sharing an apartment with YN,” the Headmistress confirmed, her head nodding towards the Munchkinlander. “I thought that was made clear to you through our letters?”

Seonghwa’s head turned, almost like an owl, to stare down the chortling Royal and the smirking San.

“I must’ve missed that letter,” he replied slowly.

“As did I,” YN piped up. “I never received anything besides – well, besides entry into the school and your approval of joining the seminar.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” the Madame apologized, squeezing the arm of YN. “I will inquire my office about correspondence throughout Oz and where there were any mishaps.”

She nodded lightly before glancing towards Seonghwa who seemed so indifferent to her as he turned back to face the Headmistress. Like a statue, his facial features had settled into a calm, neutral glaze.

“However, I must apologize; there are not two room available for you both. There is only one apartment closest to my offices – I want to have myself available to you both as often as possible. Magical growth doesn’t happen overnight nor does it follow any class schedule,” she chuckled lightly. “The apartment is up to standards, one of the best if I do say so myself.”

The two sorcerers-in-training spoke over one another next.

“I don’t doubt that,” YN replied.

“It’s not about that!” Seonghwa exclaimed.

They locked gazes once more. The man swallowed, his Adam's apple jittering, before looking away forcibly.

Her face fell visibly. Was he so… disgustified by her that he couldn't even share a space with her? She was an adult. She wouldn’t be dirty or disrespectful as a roommate. She'd leave him be but with how he was acting - it was as if she was some lowly creature. He didnt even care if the apartment was the nicest ones on campus! She could only imagine its history and beauty and yet... he was acting so adamant.

“I am here as protection for his Highness,” Seonghwa stated whole-heartedly. “First-and-foremost.”

“I understand,” the Headmistress asserted. “His Highness, Prince Kim Hongjoong has written me most ardently over the summer requesting for his apartment to be furnished only for two – him and Sir Choi. He expressed his full support to your studies.”

At the new information, there was a flicker of dust whirling off of the sorcerer's bare skin; his honey skin glimmering as magic oozed from him. He rolled his tongue over his teeth before Seonghwa finally let out a huff of frustration. His perfect mask fell as he gritted his teeth.

“And I do,” Hongjoong drawled from behind them. He took a step forward, red glasses pushed into his hair as he looked at his friend earnestly. “Hwa, you’ve protected me your entire life – its time for your talent to grow.” It was said genuinely but Seonghwa’s anger, no matter how small buzzed and bubbled in the air. She could see his hair rise with static electricity just faintly. His magic was so reactive… just like hers.

She had never met another wizard or witch; only read about them. And to see his magic surging in a near invisible dust-like ember around him, the little tells of its reactions on his body, it felt like for once she had someone who would understand her.

If only he didn't despise her.

“There are no curfews,” the Headmistress reminded. “If you wish to stay at his Highness’ suite, no one will stop you. But I’m sorry; there are no other official accommodations I can provide.”

Seonghwa took in a deep breath through his nose before offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s alright, Headmistress. Thank you for the clarification. I’m sure me and YN will – we'll be fine. We will find a solution.” He stumbled over the right word.

She felt like he was already planning to sneak out of their dorm or distance himself from her as soon as the Headmistress floated away. He hadnt looked at her since she joined them.

“Very good. That's what I like to hear - my two sorcerers working together” The Headmistress beamed. Her magic blared out in a whirl of golden light with her happiness, looking like a living candle for a moment. “I do look forward to our lessons, but for now… welcome to Shiz.”

Yeah, what a welcome.

[daceydeath]

Crashing Waves (Part 1)

Pairing: Pirate San x Reader Word Count: 5k Genre: Fantasy AU, Slow Burn Romance Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Alcohol

I thought that I knew love. But it was just the waves crashing over us ~ Waves by The Dear Hunter

You sat quietly on the dock watching the last of the dusk's light sink beneath the horizon, you often came to the ocean at night. You never really understood the sway it had over you but it gave you a sense of calm and peace to listen to it to watch the waves rise and fall the soft whispers it gave to you each time you were near it. Although you had been warned a hundred different times by your father and friends to stay away from the docks it was the only place you could go tonight, the king tide making it far too difficult to get to the small rocky cove you often visited. 

Come home child, come home to me.

The sailors and merchants all ignored you, having slipped out of your corset and hiding your hair beneath a hat you didn’t look like a lady of the night and there was no way you looked wealthy enough to bother so most, probably, assumed you were an urchin scrounging for anything you could to get by. There had been chaos within the town that day swelling and frothing like the seas during a storm which had left the streets empty and most of the ships with their gangways stowed to prevent anyone untoward coming aboard. Only one colossal ship that sat docked on the furthest berth away from the other vessels but again you didn’t really care you just made your way past it and sat with your feet dangling above the water your pants hiked up to your knees to prevent them getting wet.

Earlier you had been sitting in the tavern listening to your friends prattle on about pirates stealing women away to sell to foreign lands or taking them as prizes to spend the rest of their lives at sea but you were yet to hear a single shred of actual evidence of this. Pirates, mercenaries and soldiers were often the same thing; it just depended on who was paying them. If they worked for themselves they were pirates, if they could be bought they were mercenaries and if they could become loyal they were soldiers. The line between was pretty damn thin in your mind. Each drink had made you more uninterested in their stories and increased the longing you felt to be alone so while they continued to dance and drink you slipped away to find solitude beside the waves of the highest tide this year.

“What are you doing here?” a stern voice asked from behind you making you jump slightly then frown deeply in disappointment.

“I’m watching the waves” you replied honestly annoyance clear in your voice, not even looking back at the man who had interrupted your peace.

“Sounds like a ruse to spy on us” he muttered bitterly, his footfalls getting closer to you, his boots clunking against each of the old boards that had been worn smooth with time and salt as he moved.

“I don’t know or care who you are sir, please just leave me alone” you continued, turning your body to sit against one of the large dock posts so you could see both him and the ocean. His face was still half in shadow but you could tell he was someone important. The gold chain that hung across his chest and the glittering rings on his fingers showed wealth but the sword on his belt warned of potential danger.

“Then why are you so close to my ship?” he demanded coldly, his scrutiny obvious as the waves began picking up and started to bob his ship slightly in its mooring, the breeze fluttering the sails on the boats docked.

“Because your ship is docked where I sit, you decided that not me” already being tired from a long day and probably one too many drinks. You had little emotional strength left to even pretend you care if he was offended or angry. His presence was irritating you when he could have just ignored you. He remained silent studying you as you turned back to the sea watching the waves even out once more. 

“You're not curious who I am? Not afraid of me either?” he queried, seeming perplexed about his whole encounter with you, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword although you still didn’t flinch.

“No, I’m not” you admitted quietly, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the old wooden post. After a few more minutes of nothingness he left presumably to his ship which loomed between you and the shore blocking the view of the town you lived in. Once the darkness finally fell you stood and wandered back towards your family’s home fully aware that a different man was following you, his feet moving almost silently as he remained shrouded in shadow everytime you passed by a street lamp that bathed the ground with an eerie amber gold light. 

“I know you are there” you breathed stepping into a dim alleyway beside the apothecary. You heard the steps pause and then a quiet sigh as he stepped into the dim light only a few feet from you “Did your friend ask you to follow me?”.

“He didn’t understand why you didn’t care about the danger you were in, or whether you did and you really are a spy” he replied in his musical voice the only thing you could discern since he was covered head to toe in black, his raised hood covering most of his face. 

“He’s either paranoid or he thinks that your reputation precedes you so much that a small town woman knows who you are” you challenged leaning against the dirty bricks as you accepted that perhaps you should have listened to just about everyone and not visited the docks.

“Did you not see the logo on our ship? Do you not know what it means?” He asked a touch softer as if he suddenly noticed how you were dressed and how you looked he stepped forward and you realized how tall he was, although his lithe frame made him seem young.

“I saw it but I don’t know it” you admitted tilting your head “my family work on land we don’t know anything about pirates”.

“How do you know we are pirates then?” he asked but you could hear the smile that was likely gracing his face. 

“Big ship, paranoid captain who wears expensive looking jewels, tall assassin looking man who follows his orders. Do I need to keep listing things off?” you smiled right back daring him to deny any of the things you mentioned.

“Alright you are clever I’ll give you that. Why do you spend time at the docks if you work in the town?” He pressed lowering his hood to allow you to see him. Even in the low light you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened. He was beautiful, longish dark hair framed his sharp featured face like a gilded frame making it almost impossible to look away from.

“The ocean has always called to me, I sit beside it every night it calms me especially when I have a little too much to drink” you whispered, still staring at him unashamedly you could see the cogs turning in his head deciding how he would proceed with you.

“I’m Seonghwa” he bowed his head respectfully, seeming pleased that you were so openly staring at him.

“Well Seonghwa nice to meet you” you offered your hand for him to shake noticing the grace with which he moved.

“Come by the ship tomorrow before noon I want to show you something” his eyes twinkled as he smirked at you before turning away and disappearing from sight. Still dazed from meeting Seonghwa, you continued home knowing that he was no longer following you.

“Why would I want to do that?” you mused thinking that he was already gone disappeating into the inky darkness.

“Because now you’re curious” he laughed softly his voice fainter than before.

“Fucking cloak and dagger bullshit” you muttered stepping back out of the allyway and into the street to continue towards home.

“So was she spying?” Wooyoung nonchalantly asked his feet up on one of the chairs in the galley.

“Nope she’s just a normal girl” Seonghwa chuckled watching Hongjoong frown deeply “Had one drink too many and needed some air”.

“She can’t be just a ‘normal girl” Hwa, when I spoke to her she got annoyed and the waves started when I left her alone and she calmed down. The waves stopped, that isn’t normal” Hongjoong insisted irritation in his tone.

“True but either way she wasn’t spying” Hwa smiled crookedly before moving towards the doorway “Oh I invited her to the ship tomorrow so you could always ask her yourself”.

“Who’s coming tomorrow?” San piped up entering the galley from the other end plopping himself down beside Wooyoung to begin eating.

“Mystery girl” Wooyoung cackled, watching as Hongjoong’s frown intensified, staring at the place the Seonghwa had just been filling.

“I don’t get what’s so special about her” Mingi mumbled from the spot he had been sitting in watching the discussion before him.

“Hongjoong thinks she's one of those sea imps but she can’t be, she lives on land” Yeosang whispered back in between mouthfuls of dinner.

“Dipshits” Hongjoong rolled his eyes stabbing at his food viciously.

“Were you at the docks?” your roommate Mara narrowed her eyes at you looking you over for filth or injury.

“No, I went to the cliffs above the cove. The tide was too high tonight to get down to the rocks” you lied shamelessly ripping the bread she had saved for you into pieces before popping it in your mouth.

“Well you still smell like salt” you nodded slowly going back to the book she had been reading her eyes skimming the rest of the page in silence.

“I have smelt of worse things. I heard there were pirates that docked today” you started your words half garbled by the bread filling your mouth “The whole tavern was talking about them”.

“That’s why I told you to stay away from the docks” Mara sighed defeated before looking over at you unimpressed. “You never pay attention to anything do you? There was a notice put up just about everywhere that there were pirates seen just past the headland and they were probably headed here and you didn’t even see them did you?”.

“Sorry Mara” you bowed your head unwittingly, annoying her by just being yourself again, you couldn’t help that you didn’t pay attention to every stupid thing that happened in town.

“Finish your bread and go to sleep” she grumbled putting down her book and turning out the lamps.

When you woke up, Mara was already gone, probably having left for the market for work. It gave you a chance to clean up and change before venturing to the docks to see if Seonghwa had meant what he had said about showing you something. Donning a simple pair of dark jeans and a green tunic you slipped from the house unnoticed, taking only an apple, some bread and some biscuits to last you until you could return home again. You wanted to take your bicycle to make the trip quicker but you knew that would lead to you being recognized and you didn’t want to be stopped. You were too curious about this thing that the beautiful Seonghwa wanted to show you even if you were unsure you could trust him.

It was close to noon by the time you slipped yourself through the docks and approached the ship, the ostentatious decorations on the hull making it much more noticeable in the daylight, the solid brass and copper engines that sat just above water level were something you had never seen before and the gigantic red A that was stitched into each sail and painted on the hull gave little doubt of the owners intentions. Walking up the gangway you stopped one step before you would be considered onboard the ship waiting until one of the men on the deck noticed you.

“Uh who are you?” a pretty man who looked far too etherial to be a pirate asked you his broom halting mid sweep when he saw you.

“Where did you even come from?” a broad man with a striking face asked moving to step in front of his shipmate waiting to see what you would say his hand hovering near his waist.

“Seonghwa asked me to come” you smiled nervously looking at him. He looked like he could intimidate anyone he chose to but there was something in his actions that made you feel safe instead of fear.

“Ah you came!, welcome to my home, well our home” Seonghwa’s sothing honey laughter made itself known before he gracefully stepped into view.

“Hello again Seonghwa” you bowed your head but didn’t move. You knew you had to be expressly invited in before you assumed anything with pirates; it was only polite.

“Come I will give you the tour” he beckoned you onto the boat which you gingerly stepped onto the once moving vessel now standing completely still which made the two crew members look at each other subtly, something crossing between them that you didn’t understand.

“Lead the way then” you stepped towards him as he moved back through the darkened doorway into the belly on the ship.

“They were Yeosang and San. The others we will probably find along the way” he hummed showing you the galley, the armory and the crew quarters finally walking you past the cannons on your way towards what you could only assume was the captain's quarters.

“So should I assume that what you wanted to show me is probably the captain” you mused looking at a cannon with interest. The gleam of the silver barrels showing that they had seen little action.

“Yes and no” Seonghwa conceded with a sly smile tugging on his lips.

“Shall we get this over with I’m getting hungry and I left my lunch on the dock” you sigh knowing that although it is unlikely a trap you will probably have to talk to the annoying man again.

“Captain” Seonghwa knocked sharply on the door to the quarters waiting for a sign to enter.

“Come” a loud voice called letting you know that it probably was the same man from the night before. 

“This is the one I was talking about” Seonghwa announced, swinging open the door and carefully pushing you through the opening, stepping in behind you and almost blocking your exit. Despite the large windows the room remained dim, large heavy curtains blocking out most of the light that was trying to illuminate the room. Three men occupied the space, a tall man who looked you over with slight confusion, a serious looking man with floppy dark hair and a smaller man who you recognized as being the jerk from the dock the night before. He sat at the desk, his hands holding a large looking glass and a necklace which he had been by the looks of it appraising, because pirates you guessed.

“Hwa said you aren’t a spy” he started placing the necklace down on the dark wooden table.

“I told you that already” you interrupted tilting your head and narrowing your eyes at him. “Last night when you interrupted me”.

“He also tells me you are brazen, stubborn and headstrong but that the sea calls to you” he continued unfazed by your words.

“Well he must be quite the spy himself if he gleaned all that from one conversation and followed me most of the way home” you conceded, shrugging indifferently as you looked around the room. A large bed sat against the windows, its canopy made up of more dark heavy fabric that probably helped to muffle the sound of the waves at night, papers and books littered all the other flat surfaces and large paintings of sea creatures covered the walls. One painting on the wall lit up with its own lamp caught your attention, not just for the overly ornate gilt frame but because it was something you were sure you had seen before perhaps in a dream or in a book. It was of a woman, her face hidden in her reddish hair in a simple white gown that had been painted as though she was simply suspended underwater.

“He should have said infuriating” the captain clapped back bringing your attention to him once more.

“You haven’t even introduced yourself why would I owe you anything more than what I am giving you, Seonghwa at least has manners” you mutter looking up at the large ornate ceiling that is decorated with vivid images of sea monsters. A kraken looming ominously above the desk.

“I’m Captain Hongjoong, this is my navigator navigator Jongho and my medic Yunho” he nodded to the two men in turn “I apologize for my poor manners would you grant me the grace to start the conversation again” his voice was resigned but held an air of annoyance. 

 "Do you like my ship?" he asked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you for the second time in 24 hours.

"She's very impressive, but I still do understand why I'm here Captain Hongjoong" you tilted your head in return not letting your eyes drop from his.

"Seonghwa says you are called to be the sea, is that true?" he continued narrowing his eyes slightly, the others who you had seen and a couple who you hadn't had managed to all make their way into the room sitting or leaning in various places but all looking at you. You stood silently mirroring his posture unconsciously as you weighed up your answer.

"Has this got anything to do with that?" you pointed your thumb in the direction of one of the paintings hung on the wall with scraps of paper pinned around it. "Because I find peace by the ocean but I am no sea nymph".

Hongjoong glared at the painting on the wall, not answering you immediately. The silence strained and became more intense as the seconds passed by. His crew looked almost nervous as they looked between each other and then back to their captain.

"But yes the sea calls to me" you added quietly, making Hongjoong's eyes widen as they snapped back to your face, the frustration in his expression melting away to reveal a look of awe.

"What does it say?" he breathed almost inaudibly.

"Home" you murmured, feeling Seonghwa's hand find your back as you swayed slightly, the ship beginning to rock beneath your feet.

"We will not hurt you" Hongjoong instantly stood his chair scraping noisily against the wooden floor "No one on this ship would ever cause you harm you have my word I know it must be telling you otherwise".

Danger child, he is a danger

"Why would you ever harm me? I'm no one, not even worth a ransom" you looked up again meeting his eyes, your head suddenly swimming like you had been drinking absinthe again. The words circling your brain continuously. "How do you know what she says?".

"Hwa" Hongjoong yelled but you had closed your eyes, or maybe the lights had gone out but either way you felt something hard and warm crash into your front before your face hit the floor. The room was not only spinning but raising and falling the sensation making your queasy.

"Thanks San" Seonghwa's faint voice echoed in your head before you could no longer hear.

"The fuck just happened? Is she dead?" Mingi blurted, looking bewildered as San scooped you into his arms and moved you towards the captain's bed as carefully as he could as the ship rocked violently.

"Does she need a doctor or do you think you can manage?" San whispered to Yunho who was already checking your pulse in your wrist.

"She's breathing and her heart rate is normal, if she doesn't wake up in an hour maybe" Yunho hummed, placing the back of his hand on your forehead "Can someone bring me some water?". Jongho dashed from the room as quickly as he could trying not to trip on anything that had fallen from the captain's desk as the sound of books falling to the floor thudded behind him.

"I can't be the only one confused about her knowledge of the painting though right? You said that it was a one off original, that it was incredibly unknown which is why it had to be stolen" Wooyoung sounding more hysterical than he probably wanted to. "How would she know about it! and why is it so fucking rough right now?".

"She could be mistaken but she knew it was about sea nymphs" Yeonsang added, squeezing Wooyoung's shoulder to keep him calm while pressing themselves against the wall so they had something to hold onto while the turbulent movements of the ship unsteadied them.

"The diary said it had been hidden for more than 150 years, that no one had laid eyes on it in almost 100 of those years. She looks like she's not even 25". Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows confused by the whole thing, the swinging overhead lamp throwing bazaar flashes of light over them all.

"She's going to wake up in a second stop being so loud" Hongjoong grunted holding the edge of his desk knowing that the rest of the ship would probably be a complete mess from the short burst of waves.

"There you are" San smiled softly, his eyes creasing up as your eyes fluttered open.

"You had us worried for a second there" Yunho joked, his voice soft as he placed a wet cloth against your forehead Jongho still holding the bowl of water so it wouldn't spill everywhere.

"I'm sorry?" you mumbled your voice sounding far away even to your own ears.

Safe keep you safe

"You fainted" Yunho smiled, his voice still soft as he continued pressing the cloth against your skin he watched your breathing for a moment before dipping the cloth back in the water "Can you sit up or would you rather roll on your side? I need to put this on the back of your neck".

"Are you a doctor?" you blinked slowly trying to lift yourself from the soft thing you were laying on "Did I hurt anything when I fell?".

"San caught you so no you have no injuries" Yunho nodded to San who took hold of each of your wrists slowly pulling you into a sitting position while Yunho placed the cloth on your neck.

"Thank you San" you murmured weakly, noticing a pink flush dust his cheekbones.

"What happened? Did you hear anything before you fainted?" Hongjoong asked from his desk where he remained leaning against the shiny dark wood. You continued blinking slowly, registering that you were lying on his bed in the same room as they were all in with you moments ago.

"That's none of your business" you swallowed shakily, turning to look back at San who looked openly worried at the way your arms trembled in his hands. "I would like to go home now".

"Not until we know you won't faint the moment you stand up" Yunho soothed wetting the cloth again "can you hold this against your chest please? I can close the curtain so no one can see you".

"Please" you whimpered watching San lean across to pull on the fabric for Yunho.

"Do you want me to leave?" San whispered his voice was soft watching you fumble with the lacing at the top of your tunic.

"No it's alright" you half smiled, feeling your face heat up as Yunho moved your hands away, his long fingers deftly untying the knot and loosening them enough to slip the cloth under without exposing you.

"I need to get off this ship" you mumbled meekly looking up at Yunho then to San tears beginning to prick at your eyes.

"I will carry you off myself if I have to" San continued whispering to make sure only you heard him. "But you need to feel less overheated and look less pale first".

"Woo, can you get me some candy? Sweets might help her feel better" Yunho called through the thick dark burgundy fabric causing shuffling and noise to erupt on the other side after another few minutes of silence a hand thrust through the fabric holding a bag of what looked like marshmallows.

"Eat a few please, the sugar should help" Yunho hummed.

"Thank you mystery candy baring hand" you called hearing a loud bark of laughter follow your words. After half a dozen marshmallows Yunho placed his hand back against your forehead nodding to San who pulled open the curtains for you.

"Try standing slowly" Yunho instructed, standing in front of you as San remained behind you. Your legs felt a little shaky but nothing too bad as you placed your weight on them bouncing on your toes softly. "Good I think you will be alright now".

"Thank you for your help Yunho" you smiled, relieved that you would be able to get as far away from their captain as you could.

"I'll take you back up to the deck if you want" San looked hopeful as you turned your head to look at him.

Safe be safe

"Please San" you murmured ignoring the others as questions started being thrown in your direction.

"Will you come again?" Seonghwa's honey voice poured into your ear.

"I don't know" you looked at him keeping your voice as level as you could "I was nice to meet you all".

San led you towards the deck with Yunho following you both just to be safe as you slowly descended the gangway you felt a surge of relief come over you like water pouring from a bucket over your head. Picking up your pack which you had stowed behind some creates you fished out your apple biting into it before looking back up at the ship. San and Yunho were still there although now the others had joined them looking almost ominous as their silhouettes stood tall against the light behind them. Nodding once you walked back along the dock the salty air blowing your messy hair around you.

"Well that went shockingly bad" Seonghwa sighed leaning against the railing as they watched you disappear between the other ships.

"Oh yeah the only thing that would have been worse was if we kidnapped her" Mingi rolled his eyes.

"She will never set foot here again" Jongho laughed, nudging San who looked slightly confused.

"I've never seen you that soft before what happened?" Wooyoung quizzed rounding on San who just shrugged before leaving to return to his cabin knowing damn well it would be a mess from earlier.

"You had to see that the waves came and went depending on her though right?" Hongjoong insisted.

"Yeah but I don't think it will be easy to convince her to come with us. She seems desperate to be away from us, well some of us" Seonghwa conceded watching San's retreating figure.

"Well we will just have to convince her then" Wooyoung bounced cheekily smirking at them before scampering away after San.

You decided on the walk back you would stop into the apocathary to see if Salvia had anything that could quell the unease that you were still feeling. The bell rang loudly as you stepped inside the calming scent of dried herbs and lavendar filling your lungs as you walked towards the counter.

“Via?” you called stepping around the counter and towards the back room. “It’s me”.

“Little possum what are you doing here? You aren’t working today” Salvia blinked looking at you through the steam of the large pot she was boiling.

“I know, I’m just feeling really weird so I wanted something to make it go away” you continued peering into the large brass pot to find an interesting combination of plants and muslin bags tied with string.

“Hair tonic” Via explained as she stepped towards you her hand outstretched to feel your face “What are your symptoms?”.

“I feel nervous, queasy, and hot” you listed as she scrutinised you “Oh and my legs have been shaking like I’ve been running for hours.

“Hmmmm” Salvia hummed looking puzzled for a moment before going over to one of her store cupboards and pulling out a box marked with large red letters. “Take two bags in a cup of tea now, then before bed. It’s probably your moon time that’s causing it”.

“But I’m not having that right now” you swallowed as she bustled to the stove to lace the kettle on the heat and get you a mug.

“No but it will probably start soon and this is common before it in a lot of women” she smiled softly picking up the teabags and placing two in a bag for you and two in the waiting mug.

“You are a life saver Via” you smiled crookedly “You should put that on the sign Salvia the Savior”.

“That might get us more customers” he nodded sagely before pouting the water from the now whistling kettle into you cup to let it seep. 

“So what’s with the pirates at the dock?” you asked as casually as you could “That ship is gigantic”.

“I would steer clear of the docks for the time being” Salvia warned seriously “That crew is infamous for their cruelty and violence”.

“Hold on why would pirates like that be in our town?” you frowned “what could they want with anyone here?”.

“Could be just suppliess, could be looking for a place it hide. It’s not important. They are murderers for hire who have no humanity” Salvia almost spat as she glared at the brewing tonic.

“It’s alright Via, I’m not planning to run away with the pirates I just didn’t even know they were there until I saw the massiv ship” you blurted quickly hoping that she would calm back down and let you finish your tea without a full lecture.

“I know you’re a good girl” Salvia conceeded smiling at you in a very motherly fashion “now take your tea and I’ll see you tomorrow”.

a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies. I have recently struggled to find any motivation to write and it has been hard but hopefully after Christmas and a proper rest period I will be back to my normal self. As always your likes, reblogs, comments and encouragement mean so much to me xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @skersey33

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

 Finding The Pack 

 Pairing: Plus Size!Named Reader x BTS  

Pack Status: Pack Alpha Namjoon. Alphas: Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. Omega: Lilith (Reader) 

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Omega Abuse (not by BTS), Mentions of Kidnapping, and Eventual Smut. 

Themes: Omegaverse, Fantasy, Supernatural, Reverse Harem, 

Ratings: 18+  

Summary:  On the night before she is set to marry the abusive Dorian Redfern, Lilith takes matters into her own hands and escapes. While life without a pack is dangerous, she knows she’s better off alone. At least, that is until she meets seven males, who quickly show her not only her worth but how beautiful life can be. She can only hope now that they are enough to keep her old life from catching up to her.

Chapter One

Prologue: 

  “Jin darling be careful.” Jisoo Kim laughs as she carefully pulls her three-year-old little boy away from the crib that holds her newest addition to the home-run daycare. Jin let out a whine of protest, little hands gripping the side of the crib as he freed himself, his face pressed against it. 

  “Gotta keep safe!” He cries, hazel eyes never leaving the slumbering baby. As a beta, his mother immediately knows what is happening and can’t help the grin that crosses her face. She will need to befriend the older couple that brought the pup in, if only because she will be damned if she takes away her son’s mate. Fears of him hurting the baby vanish with this newfound information and she smiles as she heads back to make lunch. Unaware that the text she sends along the way to the mother, a picture with the caption “It looks like we will be quite close” will cause the life she imagines for her son to vanish. 

  When the little girl is picked up that night, she is never returned and all of Jisoo Kim’s desperate attempts of contact go unanswered. When she finally goes to the address they had given her, she finds that oddly enough the family that just moved in moved out just as quickly. She will never be able to forget the look of pain in her youngest eyes or shake the feeling that something is very wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

  As an Alpha, Eliza Min hates being told what to do, especially by a Beta. However, when the couple arrives, begging for her help to watch their daughter, the same daughter that her youngest has been watching like a hawk from the safety of their backyard, she doesn’t decline. Even when the woman all but snarls her demand to keep any male child away from her daughter. Eliza Min finds the wording of the demand odd, especially on the insistence of it only being a male child. Odd enough she doesn’t stop Yoongi when he sits down and begins to play with the now almost one-year-old. 

  It’s because of her stubborn nature and the fact that she just does not like these people that she keeps the fact that Yoongi plays daily with the daughter for a year and a half. The truth only being discovered when the precious little thing that is that baby girl tells her father with so much excitement that she just can't wait to play with her boyfriend Yoongi. 

  The odd couple move in the middle of the night, leaving Eliza furious and her son heartbroken, demanding to know why they would take his little flower away from him. Eliza attempts to get the law involved but really, there isn’t a law stating that parents can’t be strange. As the years go on, Eliza can’t forget about the little girl and finds herself worrying that maybe, just maybe, her wolf is right and the strange marks were never just accidents. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

    Sana Jung meets the family at a park. Her children, Hoseok and his twin Ryoko, are playing happily in the sandbox when a shy little girl approaches and asks to play. At once, Hoseok, her little Alpha in training, agrees and hands her most of his snack as they play. Insisting that she eat. Sana watches the three with a proud, motherly smile, a smile that turns sour at the look of fury on the other woman’s face as she drags her screaming child away. Her hissed words ringing in Sana’s ears. “Didn’t we tell you to stay away from boys?” 

  That night over dinner, she tells her Alpha’s everything, begging for them to do something. For the next three weeks her alpha’s look for the strange family. Finally coming back with the news Sana didn’t want to hear. They moved and no, they didn’t leave a new address. They don’t stop looking though, if only because of the way Hoseok had responded to the little girl's cries of distress, his first true snarl rumbling through his chest in a way that told Sana all she needed to know. Her son’s luna had just been ripped away and she would be damned if she allows that to continue. 

~~~~~~~~ 

   Crystal Kim was a true alpha, a pack leader among alphas. She was a force to be messed with. This is why, when the new couple across the street had a little girl who looked exactly as her friend Sana had described, she marched over there and introduced herself. As a couple of betas, neither could close the door on her, the wolves reacting to her despite not being a member of her pack. They couldn’t stop her from kneeling and speaking softly to their daughter, nor could they stop her from letting the little girl go and play with her Namjoon. She could tell both hated it, especially when Namjoon began presenting the same signs, the same protective displays an alpha has over their mate.  

  It didn’t come as a surprise to find that they had once again fled in the middle of the night. But it gave her all the information she needed to know. Something was up with the seemingly kind older couple and she would be damned if she didn’t figure out what was going on. 

  ~~~~~~ 

   SangHee Jeon had been watching her neighbour's children, Taehung and Jimin, along with her own little Jungkook when she met the couple. They were exhausted and cranky and left the girl on her doorstep with a list of very strict instructions. She had done her best to keep the little girl away from the three boys, but it was hard. The three boys did not want to be kept away from the girl and took it upon themselves to plot ways to go around her. She spent the better of her afternoon trying to explain to the three boys that it was not her insisting they kept away from the girl, but her parents and begged them to just listen. They would agree, for all of twenty minutes before she made some sound that had them gathered together in the corner whispering as they plotted a new way to get to her. 

  In the end, Sanghee had carefully asked if maybe next time they just allow the children to play together, only to be met with a snarled curse of “Fuck off” and “She’s a little slut, it's for their own good, not her’s.” She had bristled at the words and decided that the next time they showed up, she wouldn’t allow them to take the girl back. Only they never did come back and Sanghee was left with the itch that maybe she never should have allowed them to take her after that night. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

  When Lilith turned sixteen she was hit with an ache in her soul. An ache that left her feeling empty, as if something was missing. She didn’t know what and didn’t dare try and broach the subject with her parents. They hated, HATED when she asked questions. Even something as simple as “What is for dinner” was met with a hard slap across the face and a cold reminder to not ask questions. 

  She spent most of her time since her sixteenth birthday locked away in the basement, kept hidden from everyone outside of her pack or rather her parent's pack. Their Alpha, a cold man named Carter, had told her that he knew the truth and wouldn’t accept a whore into his pack. So any hope she had of finding freedom was torn away by his cold words. Still, sometimes, in the dead of night, she remembered the comforting touch of a memory, of a boy she couldn’t quite remember and the gentle hands that had made her feel safe. 

   She had no idea that on her twentieth-ninth birthday, everything would change.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Sky Pirates

Some of you may have noticed that I love to re-imagine concepts and adapt them into different settings. So, today, I present you with yet another dpxdc fantasy AU, and this time, it's Pirates.

Only just 'pirates' seemed not exciting enough, so I have Sky Pirates.

Amity Port, a place on the outskirts of Gotham - a floating continent under the rule of Waynes. A town on the edge of the world, with only the Vast Skies beyond its piers. Flying ships moored in the docks, sails of all the colors you can imagine, taverns, inns, and shops run by all the people you know: Old Kinght Fright, Jinnee Desiree, and Lady Lunch, to name some.

Royal Guard Valerie Gray, who left Amity nearly a decade ago, is now back, and she brought guests with her. Two Princes of Gotham, straight from Bristol: Tim and Jason. Only they are not here for a simple visit.

A Sky Curse over both of them, with feathers piercing their skin from inside, causes them to seek the help of a skies witch since none of the mages, witches, or warlocks all throughout Gotham could help them. But sailing the Vast Skies with no clear destination is a task for no battleship.

They need something else.

A crew of pirates who never back down from adventure when offered a fair price. A ship that had sailed far beyond any trade would go. A captain that their Royal Guard can trust, even if begrudgingly.

And, maybe, a new friend that also has feathers under his sleeves.

Is this an advertising post for my new fic? Yes, yes, it is. 'Free as the Wind' by corkinavoid, here is a link, enjoy.

What I did was I took the concept of 'Danny has Wings' and the idea of space pirates from 'Treasure Planet', mixed it with some 'Pirates of the Caribbean' aesthetic, threw in some magic, added a generous amount of fantastic skyscape worlds and a dash of adventures that end in love, and winged it.

Also, have some art I shamelessly found on Pinterest to set the mood:

P.S. The fic has soundtrack links included

[icarusignite]

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The ships have come to carry you home Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Weary of the gilded cage of royalty, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain to defy the bounty on your head.

Pairing: Siren Yeosang x Poacher Reader Summary: You have always lived by the code of the hunt, and as a skilled poacher of exotic creatures, the only law you abide by is that of your own survival. But when a lucrative contract tasks you with capturing a siren alive, you find yourself ensnared in a perilous game where delivering the prize without succumbing to your own guilt or its elusive song proves impossible. (coming soon)

Pairing: Ex-Naval Officer Jongho x Captive Reader Summary: As the daughter of the naval commander, you find yourself ensnared by the very pirates your father hunts. Among them, your most ruthless captor is none other than the man who once served your father but is now a deserter of the worst kind. As days turn to weeks, you uncover the hidden truths that drove him from the ranks of the navy, and through the eyes of your captor, you witness the cruel corruption that festers within the very force sworn to protect the seas. (coming soon)

Pairing: Cartographer Yunho x Pirate Reader Summary: When you find yourself marooned on a remote island after your ship is stolen, you must rely on your wits to survive. With the unexpected help of an old friend, you join a new crew ready to take back what was yours. Among your new allies is the soft-spoken cartographer, whose quiet strength and compassion offer you unexpected comfort. (coming soon)

Pairing: Explosives Master Mingi x Medic Reader Summary: Life as the ship's medic is no easy task, battling not only the fierce skirmishes and injuries typical of a pirate's life but also the ship's resident explosive expert, who constantly finds new excuses to seek your company, often accompanied by yet another injury for you to tend to. Despite your repeated warnings, his cavalier attitude toward safety continues to test your patience and skills, until his recklessness costs him more than he could ever anticipate. (coming soon)

Pairing: Lookout San x Spy reader Summary: You have managed to infiltrate a notorious pirate ship through deception and lies. Your mission: to pass on their secrets to their enemies. But navigating the perilous waters becomes increasingly difficult when you discover the all-seeing eyes of the ship's lookout, who seems to witness all and scrutinize your every move. Caught between the need for stealth and the watchful gaze that seems to penetrate your every facade, you must tread carefully, or risk being exposed and facing dire consequences. (coming soon)

Pairing: Firstmate Seonghwa x Ghost Reader Summary: Trapped for centuries within an ancient artifact as a restless ghost, you find yourself unexpectedly released by the intimidating first mate of a pirate ship. However, there's more to him than meets the eye, and as you struggle to adapt to a world you no longer recognize, he finds himself strangely drawn to you and your secrets. (coming soon)

Pairing: Quartermaster Wooyoung x Pirate Hunter Reader Summary: You have dedicated your life to eradicating piracy from the seas, but when a case of mistaken identity finds you on the wrong side of the law, you're forced to flee with the very crew you have sworn to destroy. Onboard the pirate ship, tensions run high, and you find yourself torn between your duty and an unexpected connection with the charming quartermaster who is determined to make you stay. (coming soon)

A/N: lol so Ateez at Coachella was my final straw and I absolutely had to write for them. This pirate/maritime theme has been rattling around in my head for a while so I'm excited to get into it. They're probably going to be one-shots or maybe 2 parters if they get long. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list <3 will probably post the first one sometime next week cuz exams this week rip

[chimcess]

Pitch Black Masterlist || jjk

— Pitch Black: the masterlist

"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."

Status: Ongoing

Prologue to be continued...

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

pairing: enhypen x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, isekai!au, royalty!au

content warnings: slight allusion to suicidal thoughts, swearing, reader is anxious about the possibility of being killed

summary: after dying in a freak accident involving a suspiciously familiar white and blue truck, y/n wakes to find herself in the body of a petty side villain from a romance fantasy novel, doomed to die at the hands of her own fiance.

notes: I'm terrible at summaries but the girlies who get it get it!! This short series is going to be a very lighthearted parody of your typical romance isekai manhwa🤭with all the usual shenanigans and tropes that typically follow! I hope you all enjoy~

I will be making a taglist for this fic, so if you're interested in being added please either drop an ask or let me know in the comments

Everything after the cut IS proofread for once, but please feel free to let me know if any typos slipped through the cracks!

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₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  “Let's go over this one more time,” you say, pacing back and forth, shivering as your feet press into cold marble.

  “You said that five rehashes ago babe,” your best friend whines, head lolling over the side of your bed, “I think we get the plot, a bunch of Very Hot men all want you dead because you're sexy and you don't get along with their needy pick me girlfriend.”

  “That- well I mean yeah,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “but that's not the point, Sun, the point is that we need to figure out how to make sure I, y'know, don't fucking die?!” 

  Sunoo groans, his silky black pyjamas blending into your tangled sheets so they cascade around him in an inky puddle when he slides closer to the floor. “The Princess was a bitch, a mean grumpy little thot, just don't be a hoe, avoid the Hot Men, and you should be fine- yah! What's with the face!-”

  Expression pressed somewhere between exasperation and disgust, you shake your head at him. 

  “You've clearly never read an isekai manhwa, you can’t just run away from the plot, it holds onto you like a clingy stalker ex… sometimes as a clingy stalker ex.”

  “So? Just… stick with plan Don’t Be A Thot?” he pauses for a moment before a shit eating grin spreads across his face, and you preemptively snag a pillow off the loveseat beside you. “It'll be hard to pretend to be something you're not but I'm sure you can do it!” 

  And there it is. 

  With well-practised precision, the embroidered cushion lands squarely in his face. 

  “This is my life on the line here Kim Sunoo! Could you take it seriously for just two seconds?”

  Against your will, your eyes begin to sting with tears, limbs already growing restless in the few moments you've been standing still, fatigue and fear battling under your skin. 

  You hadn't slept peacefully in over three weeks. Your mind refusing to shut down of its own volition since you'd woken up in the room you now paced in, in the body you now paced in. 

  For the first four days, you were insane. 

  Screaming and pleading with a man who claimed to be your father, confused by the sorrow in his eyes and the tenderness in his hands as he prevented you from leaving your room.

  Babbling through tears to the maids who filtered in and out, telling them that the title they were calling you by was not your own.

  Curled into a corner of a closet, trying and failing to steady your breathing as you slowly came to terms with the fact that this was really happening. 

  You'd been truck-kun-ed clean out of the life you'd known. 

  Despair followed. 

  Hopeless, hollow grief when you realised what your name in this particular world might mean. 

  Princess y/n l/n. 

  Spoiled and arrogant daughter of the Duke.

  A side villain of little significance set to die for the sake of the female lead. 

  Set to die.

  You'd laughed when it hit you. The one thing you'd wanted more than anything in your previous life was being handed to you on a silver platter. How fortuitous. 

  It wasn’t until the eighth day, when you'd resigned yourself to your fate, that Sunoo came crashing through the large oak doors that were usually locked to keep you in, raised voices and a stamped of footsteps following behind him. 

  “SHE'S MY FRIEND I CAN SEE HER WHENEVER THE HELL I WANT,” he’d shouted. 

  Slamming your doors shut as he turned to face you. 

  He was the one who'd been running, face flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly. But it felt like you were the one catching your breath, heart pounding in your ears. 

  “Sunoo?...” his name was barely a whisper on your lips.

  “(y/n),” relief flooded his features, “you're here.”

  He stumbled towards you, pulling you into his chest, body shaking as he held you so tight you could barely breathe. 

  “You're here you're here you're here-” he babbled, tears soaking through your clothes. 

  It took a long time to console him, and longer still for you to believe that he was there, puffy face squished between your shaking hands. 

  You remembered he'd been walking with you when the accident happened, his smiling face frozen in time when the headlights rushed closer. But you'd thought he survived. You didn't imagine for a second that he'd somehow landed in the same world as you. 

  That he'd be just as annoying in this world as he was in the last.

  “Okay okay, I'm sorry,” he says in the present, standing and dragging your blankets with him, “I was trying to lighten things up, you've been stressing about this too much, I’m worried.”

  And when he waddles next to you and wraps you in a hug, you know you wouldn't trade his annoying ass for anything. Sunoo was the reason you were trying to find a way to survive this in the first place. Without him, you knew you would've probably gone with the flow of the story, allowing the gallows to take you. 

  “I'm not stressing.”

  “Sweetie, you have a whole conspiracy theory board pinned into what I think is a very valuable painting of your grandfather.”

  “Touchè.”

  You both turn to look at said board, a mess of string and poorly sketched portraits pinned to a painting of a grumpy looking old man on a white horse. “Remind me again who's who, I think I have the gay prince mixed up with the emo soldier boy.”

  You smile, rolling your eyes, knowing full well he has no trouble remembering the character’s you’d told him about at least a dozen times. 

  “This one,” you say, pointing to an angular stick figure with a crown surrounded by sparkles, “is the crown prince who I'm engaged to because of fuckin’ course.”

  Sunoo nods, “Of fuckin’ course.”

  “The buff one is the knight I hire to kidnap the female lead when I think his royal highness has a thing for her, except knightey over here has a conscience and thinks the female lead is too pure and sweet to kidnap or whatever and ends up vowing to protect her or something.”

  “You'd think someone with a conscience would have the decency to do a job if they had the audacity to take money for it, I mean he had no issue kidnapping a chick before he had the hots for her, that's kinda gross.”

  “When you put it like that… anyway, the last two are a priest who wants her for her divine powers blah blah blah and the crown prince's illegitimate little brother.”

  “His brother?” 

  “Yeaaa…”

  “There’s other fish in the sea my man…” he says, giving the second crowned stick figure a sympathetic little pat. “So of the lot, who's the biggest threat?”

  “My fiance…”

  “No matter what we decide to do, you gotta dump the guy right?”

  “Yes,” you say, confidence creeping into your voice. “There are a lot of variables, I've read enough of these things to know that 90% of the time they get kinda weird about their fiances when they dump them, but it's gotta be done.” 

  “Then we start there, the rest of this nonsense can't be figured out till it happens.”

  He waves a hand at the other coloured threads linking squares of paper with possible outcomes and scenarios scribbled over them.

  “That's true…” you breathe, brows furrowed, eyes darting across the board.

  Sunoo’s lips curl into a slight pout when he sees you slipping back into the agitated state he’d been trying to coax you out of for the past fortnight. If he were being completely honest with you, he doesn’t believe in all this isekai nonsense, sure that if you simply avoid the plot you could easily live out your lives as a wealthy nobles without much trouble, but he knows that there isn’t much point in arguing with you. No, the best way to look out for you would be to support you as he’d always done, to have your back in this world the same way he had in the last, even if he thought you were being ridiculous.  

With a sigh, Sunoo presses a thumb into the crease between your eyes, distracting you from the painting of your grandfather, holding back a smile at the way your nose scrunches in annoyance.

  “Stop worrying,” he says, smoothing over the spot a few times before planting a kiss on your forehead, “whatever happens, we'll handle it together, okay?”

  “...Okay,” you breathe, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

  He presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms encircling your waist, the warm pressure of his presence surrounding you comforting. The one constant that had followed you into this life. “Plus, we’re early, aren’t we? The plot of your novel doesn’t start for…”

  “Another year,” you sigh, “It all starts in their second year at the royal academy, when the female lead shows up as a transfer from the land they were at war with till a while ago… a show of peace or something once it’s all over.” 

  “We have time… you’ll be just fine babe, he says. “Plus, you keep worrying about them killing you, but don't they always end up falling in love with the dimension yeeted villainess in those comics?”

  You scoff, pulling away. “I highly doubt that's possible Sunoo, I'm not the main villainess, I'm just a random side character.”

  “A gorgeous, quick witted, adorable little random side character with an amazing sense of humour and such a big brain that she chooses to use for the dumbest things-”

  “Sunoo!” you laugh, plucking another cushion off your couch to throw at him. 

  There was absolutely no way.

  …

  Right?

[windydrawallday]

"I see Humans... but not Humanity"

'Screamersaur full body & some expressions I did to test the weird crested skull of the guanlong that I liked a lot so I stuck them to the ref! For @mouseycometz 's dinoformers + postapocalyptic AU 💚

I'm having a blast thinking about dinosaur designs, especially because these are "fantasy"/sci-fi flavored so, it gives me space to be more open with color palettes and some fancy additional details to them! (I hope I can do something with the same quality for Predaking's ref).

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#12. RUINED and DESTROYED

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/Public sex (I have done it in the end dear freinds) /Unportected sex/ Pussy slaps/ Cumming inside/Rough sex/ Word 'slut'/ Oral (m.recieving)/ Angst / INFIDELITY

Word count- 22k (╥﹏╥)

a/n- My fingers slipped and I accidentally wrote too much. Then I tried to reduce the word count and ended up writing some more. So, here we are. I give up. (Thankyou for reading babies❤️)

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“Okay, I really don’t get it.” Taehyung furrows his brows before raising them in question. “You cheat on your girlfriend with someone who exactly looks like her?” He blinks at Jimin’s face. “I mean, what’s the fucking logic in that?” His mouth falls open in a perfect 'O' of disbelief.

Jimin sighs heavily. Throws his head up searching for answers he usually finds in the ceiling. This time, though, he finds none. This is not how he expected this conversation to happen. When he said he’d talk to Taehyung and there’d be no problems, he had really believed it. Except that there are so many problems now. Currently, Jimin is standing in the middle of Hoseok’s office room. This is neither the way nor the place he wishes to have this conversation. He desperately needs his genius of a best friend to shut the fuck up right now. He doesn’t.

“I mean I’m the worst person here- we all know that- but you know what’s wrong with me. I have fucking commitment issues.” Taehyung gestures at himself before continuing. “I can’t stick to one person. I mean it’s bad as it sounds but what I don’t get is what’s your reasons Jimin? Like it’s understandable if you’re looking for different tastes. That’s not the case here though. They’re literally the same person. Carbon copies. Why would you choose her when you can fucking buy a brothel for yourself.” Shakes his head.

Jimin cringes visibly at the sound of it. Just a taste? What’s wrong with his best friend? That’s not how Jimin regards you at all. How dare Taehyung would assume that. Yet, before he can say anything a second voice interrupts him. “For fucks sake, Kim Taehyung, is that the problem here? This stupid fucker here is cheating on his girlfriend and you’re wondering why he’s not doing it with multiple women?” Seokjin’s voice booms through Hoseok’s office. Everyone inside winces at the sound. Seokjin is the last person Jimin wants to be here.

That sure was a hell of a surprise when he was confronted by Seokjin instead of Taehyung this morning. Jimin was too stunned to speak at first. Then his older friend has dragged his ass inside Hoseok’s office. Where Taehyung and Hoseok were waiting patiently for them with guilty faces. In the end, it turned out that it has nothing to do with Hoseok, but it had everything to do with dear Taehyung. Jimin badly wanted to smack his best friend right across the head when he heard how Taehyung had accidentally spilled the secret for Seokjin, because he thought Seokjin knows- as Taehyung claims. See, Taehyung is a genius. Jimin can’t even bring himself to wonder why on the fucking earth Taehyung thought Seokjin would be taking part of such sordid matter. Why would Taehyung ever think Seokjin would know when he, Jimin’s fucking best friend didn’t.

Doesn’t matter now, however. Taehyung had made the entire thing worse in ten folds when Jimin returned to his workplace. Maybe if he hadn’t avoided coming here yesterday like a coward, this might’ve not happened. The thing is though, he felt like he couldn’t. So, he had paid an unannounced visit to his parents after he woke up in a hotel room. Bed empty and you not being anywhere in his sight. He simply didn’t want to talk about it with anybody even though it’s just Taehyung. But now here he is.

“That’s not what I asked Hyung. I asked him why he chose his girlfriend’s twin sister out of many other─” Taehyung starts with a very serious face, only to get thrown off guard when Seokjin yells through top of his lungs again.

“YEAH? And that’s the problem here? It’s fucking worse that he’s doing it with her but that’s not the damn problem Taehyung! He. Is. Fucking. Cheating. That’s the problem here.” Seokjin points at Jimin. Taehyung shuts his mouth immediately. Even takes a step back. Jimin feels his patience wearing thin. Why do his friends treat him like a kid. He’s a grown adult who can do whatever he wants.

“For fucks sake Hyung, can you please not do this. I really have work to do.” Jimin glares at Seokjin. He only scoffs.

“You do? Now you’re a responsible CEO? But if I can recall correctly, you decided to run away with your miss─”

“Oh my god Jin. This is not that much of a problem. Nothing happened.” Hoseok decides to bring the attention to him for Jimin’s pleasure. Yet it’s a very foolish idea on Hoseok’s part it seems. The moment those words leave his lips, Jin’s head snaps to Hoseok at lightning speed. His glare sharp enough to burn the entire universe down to ash.

“Yeah? You think so? Nothing happened? Not a problem? What the fuck are you thinking Jung Hoseok? This is all half your fault?” Seokjin nearly stands up from Hoseok’s chair where he’s been seated at. Hoseok almost takes a step back as if Seokjin might hit him. Jimin think that might be the case after all. Seokjin looks feral. Is going berserk. Jimin feels like a kid getting scolded by their father. Taehyung and Hoseok are his innocent siblings.

“Wh-what? How’s this my fault? What did I do?” Hoseok questions in genuine curiosity. Offended. Again, a foolish idea.

“You have to ask that.” Seokjin scoffs loudly. Tilts his head to the side. Pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Takes a moment to compose himself before turning his attention back to Hoseok, who looks bewildered. “You, my stupid friend, is the one who knew what’s going on from the very beginning. You apparently knew it wasn’t Liya but his sister who was in the cottage and also knew your asshole friend is fucking her. You decided to keep quiet you little…” Jin swallows whatever he wanted to say. This time gets to his feet. Leans forward for more emphasis and points a finger at Hoseok. “And guess what, we can forget that part. Can forget it ever happened because it could’ve ended there, and you decided to bring her here? For what Hobi? You wanted to be the fucking hero of a pathetic love story?” Levels Hoseok with a pointed look.

Hoseok gapes back at Seokjin for a minute. And when Jimin thinks Hoseok is not about to answer that question, he does. “No. I- I just- I don’t know Hyung. Maybe I wanted him to realize that he doesn’t have to be fucking obliged to someone for the rest of his life. So, sue me Hyung, for caring.” Hoseok returns the pointed look Seokjin is giving to him.

Jimin wants to laugh. Hard. This situation is ridiculous. What the fuck is his friends are talking about. He knows that they all care, but this is just too much.

“Can you guys just not make fucking decisions for me. And don’t talk like I’m not here. I can fucking hear you.” Jimin obstructs the staring competition that is going on inside the room. They both turn their heads toward Jimin. Taehyung just stands next to Jimin. Apparently, resigned to himself after Seokjin yells at him.

“What? You’re blaming me for bringing her here?” Hoseok is the one who questions, however. And that’s not the case at all. Jimin could never blame Hoseok for that. Even though he feels like conned. Like Hoseok had conspired behind him. And he certainly feels annoyed at the fact that Hoseok tried to control his life. See now, he loves his friends dearly, but if they think they have a say in his life, then they are just as wrong as Liya. Yet, Jimin can’t blame Hoseok for bringing you back to his life. No, that’s the best thing Hoseok has ever done. So, he remains silent. “See, he wants that.” Hoseok says to Jin at Jimin’s silence in the end.

“Course he wants that.” Seokjin plops back into his seat. “So, what now? What do you want Jimin to do now that your genius of a plan worked because your idea of caring means helping your best friend fucking cheating on his girlfriend. Okay, fine. Now he is happily doing that, what’s your next step Hobi? Want him to break up with Liya?” Asks mockingly.

There they go again. Jimin scowls in irritation. Apparently, his request hasn’t reached his friends’ brains.

“Well, why can’t he?” Hoseok shows his hands inside his pant pockets. Jimin wants to punch him in the face.

“Oh, she’d definitely take that very well. She’d just sit there and wish Jimin good luck.” Jin sneers.

“Why? What would she do?” Taehyung perks up back again.

“What do you think she would do Tae? Do you guys really think she’d just back away?” Jin rubs his face in frustration. This conversation needs to end now.

“No one’s breaking up with anyone. Just drop the damn topic guys. Just mind your own fucking business, will you? I can make decisions for myself verry well.” Jimin doesn’t let Jin answer Taehyung’s question. Says in a stern voice. His CEO voice. Almost leaves the scene when Jin and Hoseok both scoff at the same time.

“You’ve been doing it very well, lately.” Jin is the one who speaks in the end. “Okay, what’s your plan Jimin? Keep going on? Keep cheating on your girlfriend with her twin sister?” Asks Jimin. Well, Jimin has no answer for that. Why his friends can’t let it go. “And then what’s you gonna do when Liya eventually and inevitably finds out? What do you think will happen then?” Keeps questioning and fuck Jimin has no answer for a single one. Gladly, though, before Jin can add something more to his never-ending list of questions, Taehyung offers his two cents.

“Okay, but really, what’s the worst Liya can do? Threat Jimin? Kill Jimin? It’d be an ugly breakup and that’s it.” He innocently gapes at the three of them. An awful silence falls down before Taehyung starts again. “I mean she would yell at Jimin. She’d hate him but clearly, she wouldn’t do anything else right? She- uh she won’t….” Looks expectantly at Jimin.

“Of course, she won’t.”

“Fucking yes she will.” Jimin and Jin say at the same time. Jimin being the one to deny while Jin being the one to acclaim. Jimin snaps his head toward Jin. Questioning him.

“What’s that supposed to mean Hyung?”

“You know what Jimin. You all little shit heads know. I really don’t want to voice this out Jimin, but Liya is a snake and she’s gonna bite in revenge.” Turns his attention to Hoseok. “I don’t know what you were thinking Hobi but if you ever thought that your stupid games are gonna work, you’re the most stupid person I’ve ever seen. This is not a fucking drama.” Gets to his feet. Appears to be done with this stupid conversation slash fight but apparently is not. Walks toward Jimin. But looks at all three of them when he starts again. “Whether it’s you break up or keep cheating on her, that’s only going to end one-way Jimin. Only one way. She’s going to make the mighty Kim pull out from the company. You know she’s his princess, he’s gonna do anything she says and when that happens─” He stops for moment. Takes a deep breath. “─that shit is going to destabilize the damn stock values and look forward for that power vacuum Mr. Park.”

Everything goes into a deep silence. Jimin inhales a shaky breath. Jin isn’t just pointing out anything new. Jimin already knew. He isn’t an idiot even though he has his fair share of stupid moments. After what feels like a year in a void, Taehyung chuckles. Humorless.

“Oh, c’mon, she won’t walk that far now. Besides, we’re a valuable asset. Kim isn’t a stupid to just ruin business over private matters.”

“Really Tae? You think that naively? Dude, listen to me close, okay? We’re a valuable asset as long as we have him. The king of this world. Have him pull out and we. Are. Done.” Jin grits his teeth. Nobody says anything else for another long moment. Jimin knows there’s nothing he can say to defend the situation. Hoseok knows that too. Taehyung does too but the guy always sticks to the better part. Always finds a way to work it out. Is one of those people who thinks there’s a solution to every problem.

“Well, then we have this new launch. You know people are already crazy about it. We can make ourselves self-sufficient. I mean it would take time but….”

“You’re not seeing it Tae. Sure, we do have the new launch but that’s fucking months ahead. And in any case if you’ve forgotten, Kim is the fucking main sponsor. If he pulls out that one, do you think we’d have enough time to find a new one?” Jin rubs his face again. He’s a little red. None of these are new information for Jimin. He’s the CEO for fucks sake. He knew all. He knew what could go wrong in the end. There’s a reason for him saying to you that he can’t just break up with Liya. He would be responsible for more than broken heart if he does that. Yet, in the very end, Jimin doesn’t know what to do. And he’s glad when Hoseok raises the same question.

“So, what? You want to use Jimin as a fucking leverage for the rest of his life?”

“No- what? No for the sake of fuck.” Jin looks taken aback. Jimin feels a headache emerging. This is a complete mess. And the headache quickly turns into a throb in his head when Jin turns to him. “Nobody asked you make yourself a fucking pawn Jimin. Nobody ever did. And if you wanted an out from your pain-in-the ass relationship, you could’ve done it way before and the reason should’ve not been Li. Now bro, this is too late. You can’t fucking play around like a college student. So, maybe just fucking grow up and do the right thing.” He takes a step toward Jimin. Presses a finger to Jimin’s chest. “Figure your shit Jimin. There’s thousands of people on your hand.” Jimin just gulps harshly when Jin turns around. This time he actually walks toward the door. For Jimin’s great relief.

A relief that lived very short since Jin stops right as he opens the door. Not because he has something else to say but clearly there’s someone outside the door. Jin curses lowly which follows by a quick apology. Then he steps away to make way for the newcomer. And Jimin’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach when you walks in. Your head is low as you bow to Jin. You don’t look at anyone. Mood somber and painful. You heard. Oh, fuck you heard. Jimin gapes at you with wide eyes when you meekly look at him.

“Can we talk please?”

……………………………………

You heard. Of course, you did. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but who could blame you for having perfectly fine two ears that work well. It was a complete accident. You didn’t even hear the whole conversation. It was just the last bit and you’re glad. It would’ve been a great heart ache if you heard everything. The bit you heard was enough to let you know that Jin was so against your sordid affair. As he should be. It seems Jin is the only normal person here. And so did you heard Jin asking Jimin to do the right thing. That 'right thing' meant Liya. Jin wanted Jimin to end things with you.

You felt as if it was hard to breathe while you stood there outside the door. Fear getting a tight grip over your heart that it physically hurt. You know Jin was right. You know what you and Jimin do is wrong. But you can’t get yourself to care. No, not now. Suddenly, the limited time you worried about wasn’t your priority anymore. Not being able to spend that time with the person you want is your new priority. Morality be damned. Everything else will be damned. You don’t want Jimin to make that decision. Hence, your terrified stare at Jimin’s face now after guys left you alone with him.

What if he ends it now?

What if he tells you that he finally got his senses back?

What if….

What if…

What if….

“Lil, I─”

“I only have a year.” You blurt out. You surprise even yourself with how quickly and suddenly the words spill out. You don’t care about that part, but you need to bide your time. Have your chances. How selfish. Desperate. And definitely stupid. But you want Jimin in a sickening way. Jimin closes his mouth instantly. Brows furrowing and expression morphing into something confused.

“What?”

“I only have a year Jimin.” You start to retell everything that happened yesterday for a second time that day. So fast that you find it hard to breathe. And when you finally stop talking like a crackhead, you’re gasping for air and Jimin is gaping at you. His expression is void of any emotions. This is one of those rare moments where you can’t read him. Your pulse is thundering, and you can feel your chin start to wobble. You desperately need Jimin to say something. And he really comes close to doing so and put you out of your misery when the door suddenly opens. Startling both of you. It’s Hoseok who interrupts this serious situation. Apparently, has a good reason, however.

“Sorry to interrupt but the mighty Kim is here and unfortunately, I don’t think you can avoid his ugly face this time boss.” He states to Jimin. Despite his effort to make the situation looks easy with his words, the tension in the room remains the same.

This is not a good time for Jimin to leave you. Maybe he can give you a simple answer like ‘it’s okay’. Maybe he can just hug you before he leave. He doesn't do either. Just nods to Hoseok.

“I’ll text you.” Says. Hands you your phone before leaving you with a Hoseok who has an empathetic look on his face.

………………………………

You had waited your whole damn life for that text. Okay, maybe you’re being a little extra but that’s how it had felt. A whole lifetime until you received the text.

Meet me at 8 PM. I’ll pick you up at Jungkook’s.

You replied to it with a simple okay. And now you can’t wait to run home. You feel nervous. There’s a whole damn battle happening inside your stomach. The anticipation is killing you. It had been that way ever since you received the text. There are two ways that this meet up can go. You’re afraid of the bad way. Yet, the best you can do for yourself now is to get the thing done as soon as possible. You haven’t seen Jimin for the entire day. It’s fairly late now. You can retire for the day in couple more minutes. All you have to do is bring Hoseok, a last cup of coffee. The moron isn’t listening to your advice not to drink coffee at night. That shit is going to mess up with his sleep. Yet, you can’t do anything about that in the end. Guess, you’ll have to listen to the boss.

You rush to his office with the cup of coffee in your hand. The faster you take it to him, faster you can go home. There’s a sense of relief building inside you even at the thought. You come really close to Hoseok’s outer office when a sudden voice interrupts you. The relief which has been building up inside you vanish instantly.

Fuck, no.

You turn around feeling annoyed to find Jin just casually stands there.

God, no.

Not now. You’re in a rush. You can’t have this unavoidable but can be delayed talk now. Maybe the next or after that day. Anytime but now.

“C-can we do this later Jin. I’m in a─”

“Do what later?” He stalks toward you slowly. Cooly. You expect him to look pissed. Annoyed. Disgusted. But he looks nothing sort of that. Just a calm look on his face. You sigh heavily. Why does he have to act like that? There’s no reason to be smug. You know your faults.

“Oh, c’mon, I know you’re here to lecture me about- uh- you know this whole thing and to tell me how wrong that is... stuff. But can you do it later?”

Jin chuckles softly at that. His eyes glinting. “Why would you think that I have to do that?” Asks with a soft smile. You just gape at his face. Not finding any other reason for Jin to wanting to approach you. It surely can’t be business related. “You’re a grown woman Li. Why the hell I would have to teach you the right and wrong.” Explains further at your dumbfound state.

Oh, that feels a lot like sarcasm. It feels like Jin is making fun of you. Pointing out how much of an evil person you are to choose the wrong when you know it’s wrong. Then he surprises you with his next words.

“No, Li, that’s not my business. Maybe, Jimin is my business but you’re not.” Another chuckle escapes him. “I’m not a crazy rich dad who’s going to pay you a billion to stay away from my son. God, I have my own problems going on. I just want to know if we are cool. Like you’re not mad at me, right?”

“Huh?” You’re truly and utterly surprised. Those words are not expected at all.  “Why- why would I be mad at you?”

“I’m sure you heard me yelling at Jimin and asking him to do- you know, the right thing. I think it must sound as if I’m asking him to toss you aside. I want you to know that’s not what I meant. You’re a good person and you don’t deserve to be treated like someone’s possession—used and tossed aside just because I or anyone else says so. Want you to know that I’m- uh- it’s not like that I have something against you. But what’s wrong is wrong and I’ll say it because I’m not Taehyung or Hoseok.”

“I know that, Jin. I mean, I understand it... uh...” You shrug, seemingly at a loss for words. Why does Jin would ever think he’d have to make amends with you when you’re just no one. Jin and you are not that close. It can be understandable if this is Hoseok. Even Taehyung would be fine. Why Jin? “Why are you worried about us not being cool anyway? It’s not like─”

“Don’t hurt my feelings now saying we’re not close. Because we are. I prefer you to make me coffee every day than drinking that nasty one my secretary makes; don’t tell her I told you that. But─” He sighs. Square his shoulders. “We are kind of friends Li. Like I don’t want you to think I have anything personal with you. Or I disrespect you. It’s just that what you’re doing is wrong. But I’m not going to lecture you about it. So, just know that I’m not the bad guy, okay?”

You take a moment at that. What Jin says makes perfect sense. Jin is the guy who won’t eat your food when you asked him not to. He’s the good guy. You know it. So, you simply nod. There’s no reason of having a beef with this sweet guy. Not that you ever thought that way. Simply because you knew he’s telling the truth. And the fact that he thinks that he has to tell you this in person touches your heart oddly. “I know. We’re cool, old man.” You give him a soft smile. He scrunches up his face.

“No, don’t do that. I didn’t give you any privileges to do that. Besides, I look way younger than you people. I mean c’mon I can hear your knee cracking when you sit down.” He gesture at your poor knees. You gasp, feigning offense.

“They do not crack.” You raise your leg to flex your knee. Just prove him your point. “See. Works silky smooth.” Jin snorts.

“Yeah, let’s think so.” You try to argue but he continue before you can. “So, we’re cool right?”

“We are.”

“Fine. And hey, I know I said I’m not gonna lecture you but uh... maybe don’t put yourself in this mess. Sure, you know how ruthless they can be. They are your family, after all.”

No, you don’t.

You just smile at that. Jin’s amused expression changed into a serious one. You know he means good. And it’s really nice of him to think about you too. It’s just too bad that you are already in this mess. You can’t find a way out. Jin nods in response. Mumble something about it being over then and almost turn around when you stop him. You don’t know why you ever thought to meddle with other people’s businesses.

“Um Jin?”

He turns back to you at your call.

“I know I called you an old man but trust me, you’re not too old for J. I like to ship two Js.” A giddy smile creeps on your face at the look on Jin’s face. He looks mortified.

“That’s- we- that was a one-time thing.” He stammers. Hoseok told you Jin knows the complete truth. That’s the only thing you were able to get out from your boss’s mouth. He was adamant that the rest of it was none of your business. And you guess that by the complete truth, Hoseok means that Jin knows it was you who were at the cottage. The one who had to hear J blatantly stating that she got Jin’s dick wet. It kind of feels liberating to be able to talk freely now. No secrets. Expect the part that you’re not really Liya’s sister.

“Sure, let’s think so.” You throw his own words at him. “But if you decide it wasn’t a one-time-thing, her birthday is coming.” Add before turning around and walking to Hoseok’s office. The coffee must be cold now, but your boss would have to do with it. You’re already running late.

………………………………….

Jungkook was late. Too late. When he sorted out his own head and decided he needed to hurry up, it was already too late. You were already drowning in the mess Jimin created. And here he is sitting on his couch, having to watch you fussing around. Stressing out about an outfit to wear to a- not a date as you claim. But then again, you’re worrying too much. Too fucking much for Jungkook’s liking. In fact, he hates this. You told him that this meetup might happen so Jimin can end things with you. Which Jungkook finds good. That’s how it should be. And it’s not entirely about jealousy. He’s jealous yes. There’s a monster roaring inside him to see you all worked up over a stupid outfit. But above that, Jungkook is scared.

See now, he might be too late already. But you told him that it was physical. You don’t love Jimin. And that leaves Jungkook with hope. He has this weird competitive side to him. He doesn’t like to lose. You’re not a prize to win. No. You’re too precious for being played to satiate his competitive ego. That’s not it. Simply, Jungkook doesn’t want to lose you. He might be sitting here watching you change ten outfits within ten seconds. Without having a say about your life. Yet, he still can try. There’s no such thing called ‘too late’. He can still very well try. Unless you’re not already in love with Jimin. That’s what scare Jungkook. If you don’t care about Jimin in any non- sexual way, why would you be so worried about this.

“How about this one?” Jungkook snaps out of his trail of thoughts at your voice. Raises his head to find you in a white dress this time. Short. Puffy- long sleeves. A low neckline. There’s a delicate necklace sitting on your neck. The dress hugs your godly curves perfectly. Then there’s your hair. Instead of putting it down, you had opted for a ponytail. Said something about a ponytail being the most casual hairstyle a girl can use without screaming overdoing it. But there are two strands of hair falling into your face. A deliberate action.

 You apparently want to appear casual. But not so casual at the same time. You had budged Jungkook for more than an hour saying how you want to look beautiful- which you haven’t said in exact words- but not looking like you’ve put in effort to it. Jungkook knows exactly what you’re doing. You want to impress Jimin but at the same time you don’t want Jimin to know that. Because you believe Jimin is going to toss you aside. Yet still you want to impress him.

And you’re doing a damn great job at it. You look God damn beautiful in that. Jungkook feels a vein in his forehead throbs. In annoyance. That monster inside him roars loudly. He doesn’t want you to look this beautiful. Especially, when that motherfucker is playing you like you’re a tennis ball. Why would Jimin get to decide whether he wants you or not. Why would you give the jerk such kind of power.

“Why are you worrying so much Noona? You just look fine in anything.” Jungkook grumbles. To which you sigh.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You said this isn’t a date.”

“It isn’t.”

“Then why thinking too much?”

You don’t answer that. Just close your mouth which you open to counter back. Just shrug. And Jungkook feels bad. You look adorable. It’s not your fault that he feels annoyed to see you doll up to see another man. He gets up from the couch slowly. Stalks to you. You just watch him approach and offer him a tiny smile as he grabs your shoulders.

“You’re fucking stunning Noona. You don’t have to stress so much.” He gives you a smile of assurance. Shakes you a little. “Besides, this isn’t a date. This is just you two meeting to talk about- uh- whatever happening and… if Jimin is about end things, just do it before him. He can’t just play you like that.” Adds for the sake of himself than you. He needs reassurance here. You roll your eyes. Snort.

“Wow… such a good advice Jungkook.” You grin. Jungkook loves that smile. “It’s not that I’m worried about that.” You start slowly. Your smile drops. “It’s just uh- I don’t know Kookie. I don’t even know why I’m worried.” Your sigh in resign. Jungkook mirrors your actions. It seems like he won’t get that reassurance. He would have to sit here in his empty apartment, imagining how it might be going. Praying selfishly that it would go the way he wants. But he can’t do anything about it. He can’t press you too much. When he asked you to stay with him. Not to move out. He promised you to be on your side. Said he’ll be fine with you despite what you do. And he is fine. You don’t disgust him. If anything, you make him forget to breathe.

Especially when you look like this. Even though it’s not for him, it’s not like he can’t appreciate it. He roams his eyes over your delicate features. You have applied a pink creamy lipstick to your perfect lips. It goes too well for you. It makes your lips look more luscious. Inviting. Your eyes sparkle under the dim light of his living room. The faint blush in your cheeks make you look hot and bothered. Not to mention that God damn eyeliner. In hindsight, you look like an art. Seductive. Deserves to be praised and appreciated. Worshipped. He would do that. Worships you like a goddess. How unfair the opportunity is, however, is in someone else’s hands. Someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Well, life isn’t fair anyway. He would just have to let you go for now. And wait. He’ll wait. Wait with you or for you. Either way he will stick to his promise, and he’ll keep trying. There’s no ‘too late’ s or ‘giving up’ s in Jungkook’s vocabulary. He drops his hands from your shoulders. Bring one hand to squeeze your cheeks. It’s not foreign for both of you. He’s always been touchy. He knows you’re comfortable. Now, he just wants to distract himself from your luscious lips. Hence, his playful squeeze to your cheeks.

But fuck! Bad idea! Wrong move.

It makes you pout. Those lips looks even more inviting now. Jungkook wants to accept that invitation. What would happen if he just presses his lips to yours. Kiss you hard till you can’t breathe. Ruin that lipstick. He wants to ruin that lipstick. Oh, this is bad. So bad.

He was sexually attracted to you from the very first day he saw you. Since the day he thought you were Liya. Could’ve actually fucked you despite knowing you were with Jimin in that time, if you ever gave a so much of a sign to him. You didn’t. That, however, didn’t make his life easy. You are hot. Undeniably and undoubtedly. No healthy man would be able to resist. Then Jungkook is not just attracted to you that way. There’s no denying that he likes you. More than in a way friend should. And it makes his situation more pathetic. He doesn't want to ruin anything. You see him as a friend, and God, it’s hard to be the Jungkook you expect him to be. He does it somehow.

“I think you have more than enough reason to be worried. That’s fine. And for the hundredth time Noona, you look effortlessly beautiful. So, stop fussing and go get this shit done.” Jungkook lets your cheeks go. You take a minute but eventually nod with a grin.

“Yeah.” You give a firm nod. “It’s not like I’m going to meet my boyfriend. It’s not like I’m about to breakup. It’s just a complicated situation but what’s the worst that can happen right? I mean, the sex is good but if Jimin thinks he doesn’t want this, then Imma gonna find me a new man. Thanks for the moral support Kookie.” Pat his arm before you turn around.

At least Jungkook got the reassurance he needed, eventually. Even though you lost the sparks in your eyes when you say that. Jungkook would believe your words. And he would keep trying. A woman like you worth a good fight.

………………………………….

Despite what you told you Jungkook, you’re nervous as hell. See now, you don’t really know why it’s hard to let Jimin go. Just like you told Jungkook and yourself, whatever happening between Jimin and you is just sex. Yet, you can’t let Jimin go. You’re afraid Jimin will say those words the moment you enter his black Élite. You don’t want Jimin to go. You don’t know a reason and you don’t care to find one now. All you want is to keep going. Hell, even your palms are sweaty as you throw a nervous glance at the man at the driving seat. In his effortless glory. He is still in his work clothes minus the tie and the coat. Yet, looks stunning.

“You, okay?” Jimin breaks the awful silence that has been filling the air since you got inside. He hasn’t started the car yet. You’re still parking near Kim’s.

“Y-yeah. I- uh… I’m good.” You try to smile. Fail. Your smile probably looks like a sneer.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t meet you sooner. Had a bunch of work.”

“That’s fine Park. I know you have work.”

“Okay.” Jimin nods. Why’s it so uncomfortable? Why are you being awkward around each other? Another pause. Silence. Nobody says anything. Like you’re strangers. You absolutely hate feeling this way. If Jimin really is going to end this, he needs to do it faster before you explode. Or you need to start the conversation. This isn’t going anywhere this way. You curl your fists. Take a deep breath. Almost open your mouth at the same time Jimin does. He beats you up to it by a millisecond.  “No, but seriously Lil, are you okay?” Asks before you can ask him anything else. It takes you by surprise that you remain silent for a moment. Just gaping at Jimin’s face until he raises a brow in question. Well, there’s nothing you’ll gain from beating around the bush anymore.

“You gonna do as Jin said?” You blurt out before you can overthink and cower again. It’s Jimin’s time to be surprised. Only for a fractured second. Then a small smile grazed his lips. His eyes instantly started to sparkle. Amusement. You know that look. That doesn’t ease your nerves, though. If anything, it makes you irritated. What’s so funny in this situation. Especially, when you feel like throwing up.

“I have something for you.” And to worsen the situation, Jimin doesn’t answer you either. You give him an annoyed but curious look as he starts to rummage through the center console. Pulls out a small box from there. His small smile widen into a full-blown grin while he thrusts the box into your hand. You don’t take it. Just look at it with skeptical eyes. What the fuck is this man doing?

“What is it?” You question. Eyeing the box as if it would contain drugs. It’s black. Matte. Has a golden butterfly carved into the lid. There’s a capital E under it. Looks beautiful. Expensive. Doesn’t make any sense to you.

“Go on Spring Roll. Look for yourself.” Jimin shows the box into your hand. Forcefully. His eyes are still glinting. Leaking lights from the restaurant makes them even more beautiful. Ethereal. You keep your gaze on him for minute, enjoying the sight before paying attention to the box in your hand. If he wants you to find out yourself, then you might as well do so. So, you slowly open it. Carefully. Still confused. Skeptical. Brows furrowed as the elegant box lid slowly opens. An instant and quick gasp leaves your mouth. There’s two crystal clear earrings. Like two rain drops. Delicate. Beautiful. Something that requires a skillful hand to create.

It takes your frozen and surprised brain time to register it. Then it suddenly hits. You’ve seen them before. Months ago. At a luxurious shopping mole. This was too expensive for you to at least consider buying it. And Jimin offered to buy it and called you homeless. You whip your head toward him. Eyes wide in surprise. In disbelief. He sure didn’t buy you the exact same pair.

“J-Jimin.” You whisper. Jimin’s bites his bottom lip.

“You like it Spring Roll?”

“Isn’t this uh- that day from the mall…”

“It is. Don’t tell me you don’t like it anymore because I had to start a mini protest until they found me the exact pair I wanted. It was sold out.” He gives you a look. That piece of information makes it worse for you. Why would he walk that length to buy you an expensive pair of earrings.

“B-but why? Jimin, you didn’t have to─”

“I know Lil. I wanted to.” You try to protest but he shuts you off by leaning forward. Coming closer to your face until you feel his breath on your face. “And don’t start complaining. Don’t talk about how expensive it is. Don’t refuse. Don’t go talking about how you don’t want my gifts because…” Pause for a moment to stare at you teasingly. “If you do, I’m really gonna get you down, bend you over the hood and fuck you out in the open where every patron inside the restaurant can see us, till you accept it. I’m not joking baby.” His voice drops an octave down as he finishes it. You stare at him dumbly. Throat suddenly dry. You’re baffled.

“Oh, wow.” You manage to mumble softly in the end. Still very stunned. Jimin really doesn’t look like he’s joking.

“So… you gonna accept it?” Asks without withdrawing from your personal space. You take your time in answering that.

“Mm.. it’s not like I have an option. I mean...” You tilt your head, so your mouth is hovering over his. “The threat is tempting Park. I’m only accepting this because I don’t want Mrs. Kim to see me. The poor woman will have a heart attack. So, yeah, I am. But can I still know why?” You don’t withdraw either. Jimin is visibly buzzing with amusement at this rate. He loves this game of teasing, it seems.

“Why?”

“Mhm. Why are you bringing me gifts?”

“No reason. Just wanted to.” His voice is a low murmur now. His eyes drops to your lips. And your heart skips a beat. Park Jimin will always have this effect on you. No matter how many times he does this. Even now you’re dying to feel his lips on yours. Excitement vibrates through your body. All your previous worries pushed behind your head. Temporarily. It’ll come back to the front when this is over. Now, however, you’re starting to get lost on this magnetic force of a man. His pull being too strong for you to think straight.

But in the end, it seems, you don’t have to delay the talk after all. Just as you think he is about to give you that highly anticipated kiss, Jimin starts speaking again. “And I wanted to apologize. You overheard us earlier. I don’t want you to think that we’re talking behind your back. Because we’re not. And baby, this is my life. I know it’s fucked up and I’m a coward to do this to both of us. But as long as you want me, I’m not gonna let you go. Jin will have to work with it. So, do you still want me?”

You thought the surprises were over. Hell, you feel like your heart is swelling like a balloon. It’s getting damn emotional. You avert your gaze down from his face. Not being able to look at him. You force yourself to talk steadily. Not wanting to appear desperate. Yet you can’t hide the way your entire body relaxes. Relief washing over you. “Of course, I want you Jimin.” You say as he brings his hand to your chin. Forcing you to look at him before that kiss finally lands on your lips. Not a hard and deep one. Just a sensual one. You don’t know what you are doing here.

“And Lil?” He calls you at the very moment he stops kissing you. Takes your hand in his. “About you having a year…. We will work on that. We have year. That’s a long time and I promise we’d figure it out.” Squeezes your hand. “Who knows whether you’d decide that you don’t want to be here anymore. Who knows if you grow to hate me and this world.” Chuckles softly. You find comfort in that. “So, let’s see where we go. What we want and if we both want the same thing in the end, I promise you I’m gonna turn the world upside down to find a way.” Your throat is starting to clog. See, what the hell are you two doing here. Exchanging gifts. Panicking about breaking ups when you’re really not in a relationship. Giving promises. Thinking about a damn future. “Until then Spring Roll, let’s just live in this moment. Okay?”

This is not normal. You are the other woman. You need to fuck and get done. That’s how casual relationships work. You and Jimin might be losing your minds. And he makes it worse again. Just after you nod in agreement to worry about your long-time problems later. To accept his promise just like his gift. Jimin softly smiles at you.

“Let’s go then.”

“Where?”

“There’s something I want to show you.”

This is not normal at all.

……………………………………

You gaze in awe at thousands of tiny lights twinkling in the distance. From the hill where you are right now, the city looks like a distant world that is a part of a fairy tale. Not something that is real. Your heart is thumping against your rib cage madly. This is stupid really. Cliché. Cheeky. Something a sweet couple in a stupid romance movie would do. Which means you shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not a couple and certainly not from a movie. Then what the hell are you doing here. Sitting on Jimin’s car hood. Sipping beer. Inhaling fresh air and enjoying a fairy scenery. Nothing about this is normal. Jimin bending you over his car hood fucking you to the next week is normal. He taking you to his favorite place isn’t. Yet you can’t help but express your gratitude over the sweet act.

“It’s so fucking beautiful.” You breathe out. Enchanted by the vision.

“It is, isn’t it? I came here often back then.” Jimin sips from his beer can. You’re sitting on the hood with your legs crossed while Jimin just leaning against it. You watch him carefully as he avert his gaze to you.

“You don’t anymore?”

“Well, I grew up.”

You scrunch up your nose in displeasure. “That’s a lame excuse Park.” Jimin chuckles. You both shift your attention back to the city sparkling in distance. You’re not really alone here. There are a few other vehicles on halt. Few other couples- surely lovers, people who are not in a messed up, wrong, and pathetic situation like you- leaning against their vehicles. Enjoying their date night. A single streetlamp provides light to the surrounding. Adding beauty to the scenery. This is nice. Sweet. Too sweet, in fact.

You can’t keep the little voice in your head suppressed. You’re thinking too much. Maybe this is just fine. Everything is just fine. You need to enjoy the moment. You only have a year after all. In any case, if you can’t find a way or you decide you want to go back, these moments will be the only memories of your time together. You shouldn’t waste it like this. Lost in your head. Maybe everything don’t need to have clear reasons. Maybe Jimin himself is enough reason. For everything. Because he is him. Park Jimin. Your dirty little secret. Your sin. A man you found from another world. Your poison and your antidote. He is enough reasons.

“Want to come here with me often then? It’s good to have company than being alone.” Jimin’s sudden voice brings you back to the earth. You slowly turn your head to him. He isn’t looking at you. Just occasionally sipping at his beer and eyes glued forward. He looks ethereal as always. There’s more black roots in his hair now. You wonder how he would look with black hair. Will a year be enough to know everything about Park Jimin? To see various versions of him. “Hm?” Jimin hums in question again when you don’t answer. You blink. Forcing yourself to focus.

“You want to come here with me often?” Reply with another question. Jimin nods. You’re not surprised at his question anymore. He gave you a pair of expensive earrings after all. “Why not then. This nice, beautiful. As long as you’d buy me food on our way back. Do you know I’m hungry Park?” You finally manage to ease your head up. Ease your nerves. Relax and enjoy the moment.

“Oh yeah? Is your stomach grumbling?” Jimin widen his eyes in mock concern. “Let me check.” Gives you no time to prepare before he is leaning his head against your lap. Ear pressing into your stomach. A loud giggle erupts through your throat after a loud gasp.

“Really Park?” You ask through your giggles. Leaning back to give him enough room.

“Oh, my poor Spring Roll is so hungry.” Jimin mumbles sadly. Dramatic. “What do you want to eat princess?” Asks but doesn’t make any efforts to get away from you.

“Something unhealthy.” You say without a beat.

“Mhm, like a cheeseburger with extra cheese.”

“And chips.”

“And chips.” Jimin finally straightens up. “You wanna leave now?”. Asks. Eyes watching you with genuine concern now. You shake your head, though.

“No ─” You cup your tummy with both of your hands. As if it’s your most prized possession. Take a moment. “My tummy says she can wait few more hours.” Say very seriously that both of you burst out laughing. Well, when you think about it, you laugh more when you’re with Jimin. He does too. You’re happy, aren’t you? Insanely happy. You take a swig from your own beer cane to calm down from laughing. Take a deep breath after. “Park?” Call him in the end. Jimin raises his brow in question. “Thank you.” You whisper. You feel like he deserved to be thanked. It’s Jimin’s time to be confused now. So, you opt to provide an explanation. “I was nervous and worried. I don’t know why but I was. Now I really feel relaxed so, thank you for that.” Shrug. Don’t want to appear so sentimental now. Think Jimin will tease you. He doesn’t.

“I’m glad.” Mutters instead. You nod in acknowledgement. Oh, how relaxed you really feel now. How nice it would be if you could stay in this moment forever. You tilt your head up, fixing your eyes upon the starry sky instead of the city lights. Let your mind wander through different possibilities and scenarios. About your insane life. Isn’t it ridiculous that you’re stargazing in a world you don’t belong in?

“You know what Park,” You start suddenly. Without any prior thoughts. It just popped on your head while you’re watching the stars. You can see Jimin is mirroring you through your peripherals. “We’re not looking at the same sky when I’m in my world.” You don’t know why you said that. You did and suddenly the air turns heavy. You regret your words immediately. It feels depressing. It’s already out now, so, you turn to look at Jimin again. He has a serious expression on his face now.

“That- uh- I never thought about it that way. It’s strange, isn’t it?” He voices out after a long beat. It really is strange.

“It is. Sorry, I shouldn’t have start talking about─”

“But do you know what I always think when I look at the sky?” Jimin interrupts your apology. You don’t ask him what. Just wait for him to continue. “You came from a star.” He answers his own question. Your heart doesn’t skip a beat, it stops altogether. A shaky breath leaving your lips. Jimin always surprises you. You can’t learn a way to not to be surprised. That’s so unexpected. And you’re getting emotional again. Why would he say that?

“I- I- uh─” You stutter on your words. Not knowing what to say.

“What? You are. You came from a star.” He says so casually. Matter of factly. Holy fuck, he makes you feel so damn special. Like you’re the only woman exist. You don’t want to feel this way. It’s so good but scary as hell at the same time. So, you’re glad when an unexpected voice interrupts you from nowhere. Slightly startling you.

“Hey, I’m sorry but can you take a picture of me and my boyfriend?” You turn around to look at a petite girl with a polaroid camera in her hands. She holds it toward you when you finally pay attention to her. You look past her to see the said boyfriend there. The girl looks at you expectedly.

“Oh,” You give a quick glance to Jimin. He gives you a soft smile. “Yeah, sure. Gimme.”

She mumbles to you a quick thank you as you start to take their pictures which quickly turns into a well-planned photo shoot. You must have ended up taking pictures for more than half an hour and are grumpy as hell when you return back to Jimin. He looks happy, though. A wide smile on his face.

“For fucks sake!” You curse under your breath as Jimin stretches his arm to catch you. You gracefully fall into his arms. “I’m sorry that took so long.” You mutter an apology to his chest.

“It’s okay, you’re a good photographer.” He rubs his hand on your back soothingly. You click your tongue in annoyance when that same voice come behind you for a second time. You really have to bunch your fists in Jimin’s shirt to hide your annoyance. You can hit her if she’s bothering you again for one more picture.

“Excuse me, do you want me to take a picture of you too?” But she surprises you. You just turn your head to look at her while staying in Jimin’s hold. “Yours and your boyfriend’s?” She adds. Here’s a second person who misunderstood you and Jimin. Because it’s easy to do so. You definitely look like a couple. Your eyes widen. You almost shake your head in denial and declining her offer, when you’re suddenly turned around in Jimin’s hand. Facing the camera.

“Why not. Thank You.” Jimin says aloud as you snap your head toward him. Brows knitted in confusion and seriously questioning his life decisions. Jimin just stare back at you with his eyes glinting and smiling wide. Beautiful. You really want to protest but your heart is back to beating madly. Especially when Jimin holds from your jaw to turn your head forward. Then he hides his face in your neck, arms circling around your figure protectively. You stare at the girl in front of you with the camera raised to her eye. Still surprised. It takes you a second to register what’s really happening. To adjust your face to the photo. Your photo face. Your gentle smile. Or at least you try to do so. Just to fail. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Not even when you bite on to your lower lip. Jimin simply follows you. And you’re certain that you ruin three perfect shots.

Only that you don’t. Not at all. She hands you the three polaroids. It wasn’t ruined. It’s perfect if anything. Perfect in the way Jimin is looking at you in the first. All the while you’re furrowing at him. Makes Jimin burst out in laughter at that one. It’s perfect how you are so surprised when Jimin is hiding his face in your neck. Above all it’s perfect how genuine you both look while you’re crackling with laughter. They would’ve looked better if you have pulled your photo face on. But this way, they are real. It’s real you and Jimin frozen there.

“Perfect. I’m keeping all the three.” Jimin snatches the one in your hand. Pockets them immediately.

“No what? That’s no fair.” You try to grab his arm as he walks away. Ready to leave this place.

“How come? You didn’t want to take them.” Jimin easily avoids you as he opens the car door.

“No but... You gonna give me one or else I’m gonna kick your rich ass so hard. You hear me?” You get into the car as well. Glaring at Jimin. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

Isn’t this perfect?

……………………………………

You turn to face the window as far as the passenger seat permits.

“I’m not giving you my milkshake, Park. You could’ve ordered one.”  You grumble as you’re stuffing your mouth. All the while trying your best to protect your large milkshake.

“Well, I didn’t.” Jimin leans over the center console. There’s no space for you to turn now. Yet you try your best to keep the cup away from his grabby hands.

“And how’s that my fault?”

“You made me order coffee. At this hour.”

“I did no such thing. I’m gonna bite you if you─” Your threat instantly drops dead when Jimin snatches your cup of milkshake from your hand swiftly. “Yah!” You scream as he opens the car door in light speed. How the fuck does he move that fast?

“Too bad princess.” He leaves the car promptly. Leaving you blinking at the now- empty spot. Only until you register what happens, though. When it does your entire body goes rigid. Brain switches to full-on massacre mode.

“Yah, Park Jimin!” You open the passenger door as well. Abandon your burger. Poke your head out first. Looking at the Jimin who just stands there few feet away from you. Looking smug. “You gonna regret it you know. No one’s messing with my food. You’re dead.” You’re very serious here. Jimin looks adorable, yes. Still, you’re not going to give away your food. Even though he’s the one who paid. Who cares.

You curse lowly as you hurriedly get out of the car. Regretting the decision you made to remove your shoes. Yet you don’t have enough time to pull on your sneakers when your milkshake is in a threat. So, you ignore the way how rough the asphalt on the parking lot of the fast-food restaurant where you brought your food- feels under your bare feet. Just squint your eyes threateningly. For a minute. And you’re sprinting toward a grinning Park Jimin. He breaks into a run at the same time you do, though. It’s too bad he has shoes for added leverage. Not that you’ll give up though. You’ll run over ice and fire barefoot if what it means to take your milkshake back. That is your plan. And so do you nearly come succeeding before a sharp gravel stop you mid- running. You have stepped on it squarely. A sharp sting courses through your sole as you abruptly stop. Wincing. A yelp leaving your mouth as you fight for your balance. Jimin halts immediately as well.

“Lil?” Turns around quickly to run back to you. It’s impressive how he reaches you so fast. Playful expression completely changed into a one of concern. “What happened?”

You stop hopping on one leg while clutching the other for your life. “Fuck, I stepped on this shit.” Grumble as you kick the gravel away. Just like that Jimin’s concerned expression changes back into an amused one. His teasing voice echoing around. Making fun of you for your death threat which ended up in you hobbling on one leg. You pout at him. “It’s your fault.” Complaint. Eyeing your milkshake which is still in Jimin’s possession. Brain planning on ways to snatch it away. How bad that Jimin can read you too well. Even before you could properly stretch your hand Jimin puts the straw in his mouth. Draws a long gulp that you’re certain the entire drink is gone. You whine loudly as you place your forehead in his chest. “Not fair.”

Jimin curls his free hand around your figure, holding you close. Chuckles. Ruffles your hair a bit before he brings the cup down to your lips. “Want me to buy you a new one?” Questions softly as you wrap your lips around the straw. You shake your head. Lips stretching into a smile. You take the drink from his hand. Straightening up and turning around. Jimin warps his hands around you. Hiding his nose in your hair.

“You’re mean”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You huff. It’s not that you’re really mad at him. You would’ve shared the drink with him anyway. It’s more fun this way though. You blindly raise the cup to him again. “I like this.” You let out a breath. A relaxed one. Because you really do like this.

“Like what?” Jimin rubs his hand over your tummy. Takes another swig.

“Being reckless.”

“How?”

“Like how I’m drinking a milkshake, barefoot, with the CEO of RUN, in a parking lot of a fast-food restaurant, as if we are ten years old.” Jimin laughs at that. The vibration of his body reverberating through you. Making your smile wider. “What else?” He questions. Places a soft kiss in your hair. You take a minute to think.

“Mmm, like boarding a random bus and travelling without knowing where we are going.” He hums in acknowledgement. So, you continue. “Like eating extra cheese, cheeseburgers late at night when I know I’d regret this soon.” You pause to snort. Jimin uses that pause to plant a soft kiss into your ear. Hums again. This time though, that hum makes you slightly shiver. Probably because it’s a whisper in your ear. Or the way he’s mindlessly nibbling on your ear. You take a breath. Contemplating what you should say next. Feel playful. Decide you want to play with fire. Jimin is fire. And you love pouring gasoline on him.

“Like making out with you on a public lane or giving you footjobs out in the open.” It works. A mischievous smile creeps on your lips as you feel Jimin goes rigid. “Or... like allowing you to finger me outside a convenience store while all our friends were just inside.” Jimin’s grip suddenly tighten on you. Your smile grows into a grin. Easy. He might be the one who always play but isn’t it amazing how you can fluster a man like Park Jimin just with your words. See, he makes you feel special.

“Yeah, you like that?” Oh, you know that voice. It’s low and dangerous. Enough to make you shiver. You nod. Turn your head to catch his lips. “I like it a lot, Park.” Whisper against his after you pull away. Who can blame you for not being able to get enough of Park Jimin. It’s not playing with fire anymore. You’re slowly starting to get riled up.  “Want to be reckless then? I have an idea.” Mumbles in your ear. And you have to close your eyes at the shiver that runs down your spine. A spark of fire igniting inside your stomach.

“Idea?” You smile. He reciprocates. Nods. “Your ideas are dangerous Park Jimin.”

“But your sweet cunt loves them.” Jimin purrs before turning you around to face him fully and kissing you hard.

Well, you love those ideas too.

……………………………

“Holy fuck, are you serious?” You shriek in mortification. Eyes wide as you take the sight of an aged wall of a neighborhood park. Small. Closed. Vacated. Except for the patrolling guards. And Park Jimin, being the idiot he is, wants you to climb over the wall and trespass. To add more to the ridiculous picture, he’s going to fuck you after.

What the actual fuck?

“Very, princess. C’mon” He holds his hand for you. You take it yet make no movements to go near the wall. He must be kidding you. He’s a darn CEO. Old. Matured. Or he is supposed to be mature. Taking a random bus to Namiseom Island is another thing. This? This is far too risky. You’ll end up in jail. And his face will be on every platform. His career will be ruined. Liya will kill you both. His friends won’t look at his face again. Still, though, he doesn’t care. “Lil?” He tugs gently from your hand. Inspects your mortified expression for moment. His expression softens “Hey!” Turns around to face you fully. Cups your cheek. “I’ve been here before. I won’t take you to a place that’s gonna harm you. But if you really don’t want to, it’s okay baby.” Gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Smiles.

You inhale sharply. You know. Of course, you know he won’t. And he’s giving you full control. You’re completely allowed to say yes or no. To tell the truth, you’re nervous as hell. Your heart is beating violently, and your stomach is churning awfully. There’s goosebumps on your skin. This is risky. How humiliating it’d be to get caught. Yet, with everything, you can’t ignore the tingle in your lower abdomen. Can’t ignore the way your clit pulses. Maybe there’s an exhibitionist in you. Or it’s simply the adrenaline rush. Paired with Park Jimin. Whatever the reason, this is too compelling. Tempting. Besides, you’re with Park Jimin, aren’t you?

“Why the hell you’ve been here before this late anyway? Were you dealing drugs before RUN happened?” You sigh as you make your way toward the decaying wall. Jimin’s eyes sparkle at your agreement. He comes up behind you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Highschool. Taehyung was a bad influence.” He explains the reason.

“You knew each other that long?”

“Mhm. Lucky me.” Jimin chuckles before making you walk even closer to the wall. “Gonna lift you up, okay? Think you can make it? Jump to the other side?” Gives a reassuring squeeze to your waist. You nod in confidence. The wall isn’t that high. So, you grab the edge of the wall fairly easily once Jimin lifts you up. Putting your weight on your hands with the help of Jimin to climb up. You make sure to sit on the edge before jumping to other side. It’s a bit of a collide when your feet hit the floor. You can’t remember the last time you climbed a wall. You have. As a kid. This feels like you’re doing it after a lifetime. Your adult body hasn’t been trained to jump from walls. Yet, it isn’t something hard. Even easier for Jimin, it seems. Despite his suit pants and designer shoes he jumps to your side swiftly after you.

You eye him eagerly. Not believing you’re actually doing this. You’ve climbed over a wall to enter a closed park. And he is going to fuck you here. Excitement builds up inside your stomach. Replacing all the nervousness you felt earlier. It’s becoming pure desire slowly. Jimin smirks at your state. Nothing happened yet. Nothing besides the initiation of sex. But here you are trembling with anticipation. Jimin intensifies it by slowly walking to you. You stay rooted to your spot as he grabs your hips. “Sure, you wanna do this baby?” Drags his palms from your hips to your ass cheeks. Squeezes them gently. Repeatedly. Until a low moan erupts from you. You hum in answer with a nod. Chase his lips needily when he deny you of the pleasure. Steps away from you for much of your dismay. Takes your hand in his, however. “Let’s go then. Gonna make my pretty slut forget her name, hm?” Mumbles as he starts to walk forward. You just follow him. Too excited to even being able to talk.

He doesn’t take it much further. Only until you spot the first bench. Everything is quiet and still as Jimin takes a seat and makes you straddle him. Your dress bunching up. You put your hands on his shoulders. This is a very familiar place to you now. Park Jimin’s lap. You’ve seen how he looks at you when you make yourself home in his lap before. Not that it makes it older. No. Your tummy is fluttering violently as you nudge your nose against him. Your cunt clenching around nothing while he just soothingly rubs your sides. There’s no light in the park. Only the moon and the distance streetlamps give you the gentle light to make each other’s features. And that is quite enough to see the lust in his eyes. Droopy and heavy. Enough to see the sparkle.

The wind ruffles your hair and soothes your burning skin. It’s weird. To be in this position here. But at the same time, it’s relieving. You’re the one who pull him into a kiss first. Your patience is running thin with every passing second. Jimin willingly gives into you. Allowing you to have control of the kiss. Tongues dancing together. He guides you gently to adjust your hips to slot your aching cunt over his already hardened bulge. Then into a slow grinding. Just builds the tension slowly. Working you into a brainless frenzy within few minutes. You pick up the speed. Deepen the kiss. Make it messy and moan into his mouth. And lastly pull away breathless.

“Fuck!” Jimin pants. Immediately seek purchase in your neck and jaw. You align your head to give him what he’s looking for. Moaning his name when he starts to suck new purple marks into your skin. It’s a low and subtle moan. Yet in the chilly night air it sounds so loud that you involuntarily bite on his shoulder to muffle your noises. You know there’s no one around. Except for some security guard who’s probably nodding off somewhere. You’re safe for the most parts. But the thought that you’re out in the open. Under the sky. No four walls to keep your privacy and above all, the knowledge that there’s still a risk even though it’s low, riles you to no end. Gets you panties drenched in seconds. Brain blank with pure raw desire.

“J-Jimin…”

“Hm, princess?”

“Wanna suck you off.” You whine. Pressing your mouth into his ear. Peppering kisses to his cheek. Then jaw. Nuzzling your nose into his skin and drinking up his scent. He smells good. So good. Nothing unfamiliar. But something that always makes your arousal worsen. You bury your face in his neck. Jimin gives you a light spank. Then rubs the sting away. Groans when you attack his pulse point. Hips bucking up to yours.

“Fucking hell, baby, you want that. How bad do you want that?” Touches you everywhere he can reach. Your back. Ass. Thighs. You pull away to look at his face.

“So, fucking bad.” Give him the puppy eyes, unnecessarily. Jimin won’t say no. You know he can’t say no. He curses again. Nods. Gives you a searing kiss before you start to climb down from his lap. Taking your sweet time kneeling in front of him. Keeping your eyes locked with his. Slowly start to play the game where you have control. You start it by pressing soft kisses to his visible bulge over his pants. Gets him clenching his jaw hard. Hand coming to rest in your hair. Yet, he doesn’t control your movements.

“Baby, you sure, you can- fuck- isn’t your knees- holy fuck Lil.” You interrupt his question by rubbing your face on his bulge. You know it’s involuntary how his hips jerk up seeking more friction. And so do you know what he was about to ask. Because hell yes, your knees hurt on the gravel road. Another reckless decision that you’ll regret the coming morning. But in the end, you don’t care. Jimin sounds magical above you. So, you ignore the sting. Just proceed to undo his pants. Hurriedly. Want to tease him but are too afraid to bide your time. What if someone comes and you don’t get to do this here.

“I’m fine.” Mutter quickly as you pull down his pants. He raises his hips in aid. Just enough to free his throbbing cock. Leaking pre cum already. Jimin hisses the moment the cool air hits him. You take a moment to be in awe. Appreciate. Licking your lips in anticipation.

“Take it in baby, make a mess hm? Make it wet and nice so, I can slide into your tight hole easily.” Jimin tangles his fingers in your hair again. He is getting impatient. You like it when that happens to him. When he can’t control himself. He brings you closer to his twitching cock. Holds his length upright with his free hand. Waits with hooded eyes watching intently down at you. You give him another simple nod before wrapping your lips around him. You both moan at the same time. You fall into action right away. Swirling your tongue around the leaking tip and tasting the pre cum. Moaning and whimpering at the taste. Jimin keeps a tight grip on your hair. Not controlling. Just keeping it there. Hips thrusting up ever so gently. “Deeper baby. Go fucking deep. I know you can. Fucking hell, Lil.” Grunts and groans.

And you live for those sounds. Who are you to decline his demands. You do exactly as you’re asked for. Going deeper and deeper till he hits the back of your throat. “Yes, fuck. You’re so good princess. Your mouth feels like heaven.” Jimin praises you as you try to adjust to the size and control your gagging. Slowly start to bob your head up and down. Drooling over his thick cock and making the mess he asked you to make. Sounds of slurping fill the night air with occasional gags you try to control and Jimin’s heavenly moans. You pick up your speed with every bob, dragging your tongue along his soft shaft. Tracing the veins. Curling it around his tip every time you go there. Play with his balls. Putting Jimin into a haze.

“That’s it baby, shit, I’m close, Lil.” His grip on your hair tightens. He doesn’t have to voice that he’s close. You can feel his thighs tense. Feel his cock twitch in your throat. You moan around him in acknowledgment. Whole body filling with determination to pull him over the edge in a way he’d never forget. Determination to taste his cum on your tongue. You pick up your speed. Only that his words aren’t a phrase, it’s a warning.

Just as you think he’s about to shoot those hot seeds into the warmth of your mouth, he pulls your head up with your hair. Fast and rough that your scalp stings. His cock slips out of your mouth, connecting to your lips with a trail of saliva that breaks soon as he raises your head to look at him. You wince in pain. Jimin lets go of your hair immediately. His chest heaving. Face flushed red and mouth agape. Is fighting for breath. “Sorry, I’m sorry baby. Was so close.” He rolls his head back. Then look back at you. You look at him with questioning eyes. He reads you well. “No. Not like that Lil. Want to fuck you. C’mon baby.” Bends down to help you to your wobbly feet. “On my lap.” Taps his muscular thighs. You whine in complaint but relents. Reluctantly. Ready to straddle him again. But this time he stops you. Turns you around and pulls you onto his lap, smoothly.

“Jimin.” You gasp softly as he drags your body closer to him. Back pressed against his chest. Makes you bend your legs. Your shoe soles on his knees. Just like the day he fingered you outside that convenience store. You think that’s his plan when he plays with the hem of your dress.

“Want you to cum before me baby.” He breathes in your ear. Pulls your dress up, baring your lower half to the cool air. Spreads your legs. You moan at the sensation of cool air turning your hot slick covered panties cool. Which turns into a broken tangled noise in your throat when Jimin palms your cunt. Cupping your heat tightly. Drags a finger through your slit. Smears the wetness across your cute lacy panty, ruining it. You buck into his hand gracefully. “Feel good slut? Do you like this?” Jimin teases. Keeps his ministration going. You let your head fall back into his shoulder. Closing your eyes.

“Yes, Jimin. Need more.”

“You always need more minx.” He chuckles. Yet gives you what you want. Pushes your panty to the side. Touches your drenched folds bare. Gathering the wetness in his fingers to bring them to your aching clit. Drawing figure eights at an agonizingly slow pace. You know he plays. Know he’d tease you no matter what. Disregarding the place. Just how you like it. So, you allow him. Just moaning and crying for more. Dripping a river that you stain his pants. Till you can’t anymore and desperate like a bitch in heat. The warmth of his fingers and the contrast in the night air creating a heavenly friction on your heated cunt.

“Pleasepleaseplase, oh Jimin fuck, more.” You buck into his hands like you’ve lost your mind. No, scratch that. You have lost your mind. You want his hot, hard cock. Want him to fuck you senseless. Are so glad when he relents at your first beg. His hand disappear from your cunt instantly. Your panty falling back to its place. You whimper while he brings his own cock in his hand. Stroking slowly.

“More? You want more slut? Want me to fuck you on this bench? Out in the open?” Adjusts on you in his lap so, he can rub his hard cock on your slit. Over your panties. You mewl desperately. Wanting the damn fabric to vanish. Wanting to feel his cock on your bare pussy.

“Yes, yes, yes please. Want you to fuck me like the slut I am. Holy fuck Jimin.” You turn your head down to see his cock rubbing against your slick folds. Making you almost cry at the desperation.

“Oh, I’m gonna do that baby. Gonna fuck you till you scream. But don’t you want me to play then? You love it when I play.” Jimin taunts. In your ear. You don’t know what to say. Brain hazy and a mush. Words fail you as you only whimper in return. Jimin is enjoying this. You know he is. A law chuckle rumble in his chest as proof. He takes your whimper as a yes to whatever he wants to do. And so, he does what he wants. In a second, he pushes your panties to the side again. Nudges his cock head against your folds. You sigh in relief at the contact. But then instead of dragging his cock down toward your entrance he just lets the fabric fall into its place again. Making it keep his cock pressed between your nether lips, comfortably. Your clit pulse at the sensation. More and more arousals seeping out from your needy and empty hole. You can feel his cock throbs as well.

“Fuck, Jimin.” You thrust your hips upward slowly. Making his cock drag against your slit. Making Jimin groan.

“Oh, yes. Keep doing that.” He coaches while bringing his hand to hold his cock in place. You keep rocking your hips up and down to make him rub against you. And you have no idea when you stop moving and Jimin starts it. All you know is every nudge of his dick head against your throbbing clit makes you sob. Both of your essence creating a mess inside your lacy underwear. So, you have no idea how long you goes at it. Just rubbing his cock in your slit like horny rabbits. Not even the cold night air could calm your hot skin anymore. You’re long gone.

“That’s enough. J-Jimin. Please that’s enough. Inside me please.”

Jimin is long gone too. He doesn’t complain. Doesn’t tease. Nods. You make space between your bodies by raising your hips up. Enough for him place his hard cock against your entrance. And you sink down. Taking him easily at how wet you are after all the teasing. You both groan in relief after he is fully sheathed inside you.

“So tight baby. Sh-shit so tight.” Jimin wraps a tight arm around your torso. Gives you a minute to adjust. “Make space princess. Gonna rail your cute cunt.” Mumbles as he pulls the neckline of your dress down. Together with your bra. Making your nipples pebble. “Is this fine?” Asks as he gives a light slap to one of your tits. Makes it bounce. You nod violently.

“Yes. Please move. Can’t take it anymore.”

“Got you princess.” He soothes you. Delivers another slap to your other tit as well. Then finally gives you what you want. Strating as a slow but heavenly thrust. You make space for him the best you could. Allowing him to pick up his speed. He does. Slowly but surely building up his pace. Turning it into a brutal plunging to your hole. Drags the neckline of your dress the furthest he can. Keeping your soft mounds out in the open. Occasionally squeezing and slapping them in between his harsh movements. Brings his free hand to your clit. Shifting between pinching and circling.

“Fuck yes baby. So, fucking good for me. Look at you my pretty slut. Getting fucked out in the open. Imagine someone walking in baby. They’d see how much of a fucking slut you are for me baby. You’d like that, don’t you?” Jimin picks up the speed of circling your clit. You don’t think it’s possible to feel more aroused. More heated. Yet you do. His words shooting straight to your core. Making your clit pulse and walls clenching around him hard. Yet you fail to answer him again. Jimin groans at how tight you get. Presses a kiss to you ear at the same time his hand withdraws from your cunt. You don’t get to mourn the loss, however. His hand lands back on your clit harshly. Slap. Light. But enough to make your back arch in pleasurable pain.

“Fuck!” You choke. Jimin starts rubbing your clit again. Soothing the pain. “Asked you a question baby. Answer me.” Commands. “Would you like that?” Repeats.

“Yes. I do. Fu-fuck J-Jimin. Baby yes.” You sputter, not knowing what you’re talking about. “D-do that again, J-Jimin, holy fuck do that again. Please.” Cry out so hard it should be humiliating. You don’t bring yourself to care, however. And Jimin doesn’t think that way either.

“Fuckfuckfuck, you want me to slap your cunt baby? What a slut you are?” Grunts while he does as you ask. Another slap lands on your aching clit. Making you whimper but taking you dangerously close to the edge. “You’re so damn perfect Lil. Such a good slut for me.” Slap. “Take it like that.” Slap. “My pretty slut. Is this what you wanted?” Slap. His cock drills into your spasming walls relentlessly.

“That’s a good slut. Ah keep squeezing me baby. Keep dripping for me.” Lands another slap to your clit. And just like that everything dissolves into pleasure. Your eyes rolling back as you go rigid in his hold. Crying out his name repeatedly as your intense orgasm washes over you. “Jesus. Fucking hell Lil. God baby.” Jimin moans. Trying to fuck you through your orgasm. To keep thrusting inside your tight walls. “Oh fuck, too tight. Gonna cum baby. Gonna fucking- where do you─” Jimin’s words breaks into strangled noises as you try to relax and let him keep using your spent cunt to his pleasure. He is losing the precision of his rhythm. You know he’s too close. Clenching his jaw tightly and fingers digging into your flesh bruising. “Where d-do you want me Lil? Want me to pull out.” He hides his face in your neck. Teeth lightly scraping your shoulder.

“No. Please no. Inside. Jimin inside. Fill me up.” You wail. Feeling a feral desire to have him cum inside you. To feel the otherworldly sensation of his hot cum shooting inside your walls.

“Fuck. Yes, Lil. Again. Do it again baby. Beg for my cum.”

You jump into action without any hesitation. “Please baby please. Cum inside me, hm? Want it so bad. I need you to cum inside me. J-Jimin please.” And that’s all it take. Jimin’s teeth sink it your shoulder, muffling his cry of your name as he stills his hips. Pushing your hips down to press against his. You shiver at the sensation of rope after rope of hot seeds spilling inside you. It’s heavenly. Everything about Jimin is heavenly to you.

Jimin keeps his face hidden in your neck. His bruising grip on your body lightning but his hands never leaving. Instead, he starts to rub your tummy soothingly. You wait there in blissful silence. Finally starting to feel the cold air on your heated skin again. Senses coming back to your mind as you feel Jimin starting to soften inside you. It’s getting cold now. Yet he is warm against you. You both are covered in sweat. Sticky. Yet you can’t complain about him holding you so close. It’s so good. Jimin and this moment. Crazy. Unbelievable. But yet so good.

Jimin is the one who proceeds to make a move first. Raises his head from your shoulder. Breathing slowly calmed down. “You good baby?” Asks tenderly. You just nod. “Yeah? Can you move?” Again, you don’t give a verbal answer but raise your hips, so he slips out of you. Jimin fixes your underwear into its place. You wince at the drenched feeling. It’s only getting worse as his cum has started to seep out of you. You open your mouth lazily to complain when a sudden sound of dry leaf crunching reaches your ears. Undoubtedly footsteps. You both snap your heads to where the sound came from. Eyes wide and suddenly alerted. Your gazes falling on a white spot in the close distance. Moving. A torch. Patrolling guards.

You suck in a sharp breath. Your brain starts blaring alarms. Jimin curses aloud, immediately pulling your neckline up. Makes you stand up. He does the same. Starting to fix his pants. Your legs are a little shaky but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You look at Jimin with wide panicked eyes. The beam of light getting closer to you. You both look like shit. There’s a hard stain of both of your cum on Jimin’s pant. And you know that his cum will start to leak down through your thighs soon. There would be no more humiliation than getting caught in this state.

No. This can’t be happening right now.

“What would we do?” You whisper yell in your shaky voice. Jimin looks around you frantically. The light is coming closer and closer. You feel your heart beating in your throat. Faer turning your blood into water. You clutch Jimin’s hand for emotional support. “Jimin.” Call him frantically. It feels like you’re about to get hunted down by a predator. Jimin turns his attention to you. For a moment he looks like he doesn’t know what to do. Then it disappears. A small smirk displays on his mouth. You merge your eyebrows in confusion. Jimin’s smirk widens into an amused smile before he bends down. Plants a soft peck on your lips. Pulls away to stare at your scared eyes.

“We run princess.” States slowly. That’s the only warning you get before he takes your hand in his. Turns around and start running at the same time when you hear a loud gasp behind you. Beam of white light directly lands on you. Showing you the path ahead.

“Yah! What the hell are you doing here you little pricks? Stop right there!” A loud voice booms across. You wince in horror. But you’re already on the run. Through the lane you walked inside. Jimin’s hand clutching yours protectively. This is ridiculous. Just like how it was to drag Jimin inside a random bus. Who can complain though. You wanted to be reckless. Stupid. And this is exactly what you wanted. The rush of adrenaline as you run away from a yelling man. Wind sweeping past your face. You don’t even care about the wetness dripping down your legs. You let Jimin guide you. And you run.

A wide grin appears on your face.

……………………………

You had plans for J’s birthday. Or Jungkook did. A surprise. You were supposed to help him with planning. That’s not what’s happening apparently. It turns out that your surprise really wasn’t a surprise when J had called Jungkook. To tell him to stop planning her surprise birthday party. You had snorted so hard when a somber looking Jungkook broke the news to you. Had comforted him saying it was fine. And her reason was that Jin was giving you all this fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant where broken college students like you could never afford to go. So, of course, J would choose Jin’s invitation above all. You’re more than surprised at the fact that Jin actually had taken your words seriously. It’s good. Really.

Only that Jungkook isn’t happy. He huffs as you stand in the entryway to the lavish restaurant. Five fucking stars. You bump into his side. “Oh, c’mon Kook, no need to look like a grumpy old dad. This is good for your pocket.” You reason with him as you did all day long. Ever since the day J asked him not to throw a party for her. Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“She’s a bitch to turn me down.” He pouts hard. You know he isn’t truly mad at J. Maybe he’s feeling insecure. Jealous. You’re not sure.

“She didn’t turn you down. Besides, you’re here, aren’t you Jungkook. You should be happy she’s getting a fancy dinner.”

“I am.” He purses his lips. “This is ridiculous though. I mean J and Jin? Since when?” Jungkook turns to look at you with wide doe eyes. Lights of the restaurant reflect in them. You roll your eyes.

“You were so observant of me, but you didn’t know your best friend fucked Jin at the cottage? Way to go Jungkook.” Jungkook gasps loudly at your words. Now looking at you with his mouth hanging open too.

“And she didn’t tell me?” Questions with disbelief.

“Have you asked her? Oh, c’mon, let’s go inside, can we? Don’t act like a jealous boyfriend.” You hook your arm with his. Starting to walk forward, dragging him with you. He asks some more questions about how on earth he would’ve missed it. You ignore them. Smile to the pretty hostess. Tell her about your reservation and keep dragging Jungkook as you follow her lead. Your table is a corner one. Secluded. Private. Large. Enough to fit all of your friends. It’s mostly empty as you arrive, however. Seems you’re early. It’s just J, Jin, Yoongi, and your dear boss Hoseok there. They all raise their heads to acknowledge you as you approach the table. J gets to her feet immediately. She looks elated. Pretty. A little tiara on her head. And you’re definitely not surprised to see her hair pink. That’s just J.

You let go of Jungkook’s arm to hug J. “Happy birthday baby!” You squeal as she hug you back tightly, practically squeezing the life out of you.

“Thank you.” She pats your back. Slightly pulling away from you, grinning. Opens her mouth to tell you something only for it to turn into a surprised yelp. And she isn’t the only one who yelp. You yelp as well when something collides with your back, plunging you forward to plaster with a wide-eyed J. It takes your brain two good minutes to realize what collided with your back is Jungkook’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and holds you and J at the same time. Sandwiching you between himself and J.

“What the fuck?”

“Jungkook.” You and J exclaim at the same time. Annoyed and irritated.

“Happy birthday traitor. I do not wish to touch you at this time, so, this is how I’m gonna wish you a happy birthday. Using Noona as my shield.” Jungkook ignores your yelps as he states in a calm voice. You groan.

“For fucks sake Jungkook!” J whine, trying to wriggle herself free. Making it worse for you. Jungkook doesn’t even budge. You and J both start to complain. Halfway starting to giggle as well.

“Are you serious Kid.” Jin butts in too. Jungkook turns his head to throw a glare at the older guy.

“Yes, very. What’s your problem?” He asks Jin in a low growl as you do your best to free your hands at least. Until you realize it’s a lost game and give up. Accept your fate. Just look over J’s shoulder to wave at your boss. Who looks frustrated sitting next to a bored Yoongi.

“What is this? Everyone has a date?” Yoongi is the one who speaks first though. There’s no proper greetings will be exchanged between you, considering Jungkook would never let go you or J. J is still struggling while Jungkook is at a staring competition with Jin. Who looks taken aback. “And you didn’t tell me to bring one?” Yoongi gives an incredulous look to Hoseok. He rolls his eyes.

“As if you have someone to bring.”

“Of course, I do.” Yoongi gasps. Which Hoseok completely ignored as he pays his attention to you.

“Would you mind letting my assistant go Jungkook. I want her alive please.” Talks to Jungkook instead. In vain. Jungkook dramatically explains how he’s not going to allow these men steal all of his friends. You are really making up your mind to eat your dinner while being squeezed between two people when a voice behind you saves you.

“Okay, what did we miss? Why’s Jungkook trying to kill those two?” You recognize Yoona’s voice. Jungkook’s grip loosens on you as he tries to turn around. Both you and J sigh in relief. You immediately step away from Jungkook. Not wanting to risk it again. Nearly turn around to face Yoona and Namjoon when Yoongi lets out a groan.

“See, you prick, everyone has a date!” He levels his cousin with a pointed look. You catch a faint glimpse of Hoseok flipping Yoongi off as you turn around. Grinning brightly. Eyes landing firstly on Namjoon who is crushing J in a tight hug. Then your eyes dart to someone who has arrived now. Taehyung and Seoyeon. Taehyung in his always cheery mood as he shows Namjoon away to take his chance to hug J. You chuckle softly to yourself before letting your eyes wander behind Seoyeon who stands beside Taehyung. And like that, the wide grin that has been adorning your face drops to the floor. Instantly. Not even a sign of a faint smile is left on your face.

Blonde man is the first one who you notice. He should’ve been a reason to even deepen your grin. That would’ve been the case, if it isn’t for the woman, you notice next. Casually leaning against Park Jimin. Her arm hooked with his. A faint smile on her lips. Glowing. Elegant.

You didn’t know Liya was coming.

How come no one has warned you. You feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. Creating a void in its place. A strange sensation clouding over you. You can’t help but turn around to look at Hoseok. In question. You don’t know why you expect he should’ve been the one to warn you. It’s not his responsibility. If anything, it’s Jimin’s. Yet Hoseok gives you a surprised look. Shrugs. Shakes his head. That tells you one thing. He didn’t know that either. So, you turn back to newly arrived guests. Jin is now on his feet greeting everyone. Your eyes land on Jimin. He looks abashed. As if he would like to be anywhere else than here. Troubled. Your eyes meet for a second. Only for a second as you turn your gaze away immediately.

This is not good at all. You really don’t wish to be in the vicinity of Kim Liya at all. With people or alone. But above all, you don’t wish to be in her presence when she’s with Park Jimin. Her boyfriend. The man who fucks you behind her back. How ridiculous. You have no right to feel any remorse at this moment. Yet here you are. You hate to be in the same room as Kim Liya when you feel your insides twist uncomfortably at the sight of them. A feeling you can’t quite explain. It’s uncomfortable. Makes you want to run away. That shitty feeling only intensifies as you assess Liya. The way she looks. You think it’s amazing how she looks that gorgeous when you and she are the same person.

Jungkook snaps you out of your misery by placing his hand on the small of your back. “Noona? You, okay?” Mumbles. You nod. Forcing yourself to snap your eyes away from Liya. Away from Jimin. To pull on a smile. You can’t appear moody all of a sudden. It’s true that most people here know about your pathetic situation. Yet, there are people who don’t, and you wish to keep it that way. Besides, you need to act indifferent in front of Liya. So, you just allow Jungkook to guide you towards a chair. Next to Hoseok. And you’re so grateful for Taehyung when he beats Liya to the chair right across from you. It would’ve been fun to look at her face directly throughout the entire night.

You don’t want that at all. Yet, the thing is though, it’s quite hard to keep your gaze focused on anywhere else than the said woman. Or the man sitting next to her. You feel irritated. Partially at yourself for feeling this way. Partially at Jimin for what reasons, you don’t know. It’s such a shame how a great night turns into a full-on torture. The food must taste heavenly considering how your friends react after your table is full of a feast. You don’t feel that, however. Every bite you take turns into ashes in your mouth. You find it impossible to keep up with the conversation that is flowing around.

You’re getting heavily distracted every time you catch a glimpse of Jimin. He sits on the other side of the table from you. To your left. You can see him in your peripherals easily. Not to mention the amount of time you turn your head too. He locks his eyes with you more than hundred times. Something clearly written on them. The gut twisting, irritated feeling you’re getting, however, makes you turn away immediately without trying to read him. You’re mad at him. He should’ve texted you. Told you that Liya would be here. You don’t know what you’d have done if you knew but it feels like Jimin ignored you.

And to add more to your irritation, you hate the way Hoseok, Jin, and Taehyung glance at you occasionally. As if they’re afraid you’re a bomb about to explode. Tonight is going to be great for you.

“Noona, you want to leave?” Jungkook whispers in your ear. You bite back your annoyance as you pay your attention to the man sitting with you instead of the man sitting with another woman. No, you’re the other woman. Jimin is with his woman.

Fuck you need to stop.

You can’t stop.

“No, Kook, I’m fine.” You stab at your food as your eyes wander back to the couple back again. Liya laughs at something Seoyeon tells her. Damn, she looks so fine even when she cracks up with laughter. Then she turns to Jimin. Probably to recite the same story. Her sweet lips grazed over Jimin’s ear. It hurts your hand how hard you clench your fingers around your fork. You want to scream. Pull Liya away from Jimin. What the fuck? Why would you want to do that now? You know who you are. Know your place. You’re the secret. You have no right to feel this way. This is immature of you, really.

You need to put your shit together.

Only if it’s that easy. Because it isn’t. Entire dinner feels like a dream to you. You offer so many fake smiles and laughs. Opinions about things you have no single idea of. And by the time you’re finished with dinner and Hoseok is obviously doing a shitty job at conversing with you, you want nothing but to disappear. Jungkook has his hand on your thigh. Talking with Namjoon.

“Hey guys!” J suddenly perks in. Has been mumbling with Jin all the time. Everyone turns their head to look at her. You think she’s about to deliver a thank you speech. Good. Since you can leave after that. “Want to hit a club? I don’t want the night to end.” And like that all your eager hopes are crumbled into dust. J looks elated. Excited. Is giddy like a schoolgirl. Maybe you can excuse yourself. The table breaks into a messy conversation where everyone is trying to decide what to do next.

“We can leave if you want to. I’m fine.” You turn your head toward Jungkook to find him giving you a soft smile. You sigh heavily. If you want to leave, then Jungkook will follow you. Which seems very unfair to you. He shouldn’t be missing out on his best friend’s birthday because you feel shitty to see your secret fuck buddy lives his life with his girlfriend. What is wrong with you? Maybe hitting a club would be good for you. A drink or two would help you to clear your mind. So, you shake your head. Let Jungkook knows that you don’t want to miss out at all. And apparently, everybody else on the table decide the same thing.

………………………

J chose a club that is within walking distance of the restaurant where you had dinner. And just five minutes into clubbing, you’re regretting it greatly. You shouldn’t have come. Then you wouldn't have to keep looking at Jimin and Liya. You sit in your booth. Eyes boring holes on to Liya’s head. She’s standing near the bar with Seoyeon. Jimin being nowhere in your sight. That’s really good. A short lapse of relaxation for you. Liya has been clinging to Jimin like a leech. And how your blood was boiling.

Now though, since she is alone and the man in question who makes you feel this irritated, has disappeared you need to take your eyes away from Liya. Yet you find yourself unable to do that. You annoyingly take into notice about every single detail about Kim Liya. The way her hair is longer than yours. The way she has applied her makeup. Yours is bold. Maybe you shouldn’t have done a bold look. Her dress. It’s fancy and long. Doesn’t quite fit for a club but she wasn’t prepared to come here. It was an addition to the plans. The way she dressed perfectly suits for a fancy ass restaurant. You look at your dress. Short. Black. Flared. Strappy. It definitely suits a club. Damn, you shouldn’t have worn this to the restaurant. Jungkook had whistled when he saw you. Had told you that you are the human version of hot. But maybe he lied.

“Careful now, I might think you’re jealous of her.” A sudden voice next to your ear gets you jump on your seat. A loud curse spilling through your mouth as you turn to catch the intruder. Frowning. Your eyes find a smug looking Yoongi. Gracefully sitting next to you in your booth. Hell, you haven’t even noticed him arriving.

“What the fuck, Yoongi.” You huff in annoyance. Not paying attention to his earlier words.

“Sorry for startling but you need to learn how to do poker face better than that, woman. Jesus, you’re burning with jealousy.” Yoongi chuckles softly. Leaning against the back rest. Crosses his arms. You deepen your frown.

“Sorry, what? What are you talking about?” Yoongi doesn’t answer but point his finger at Liya. You follow his finger. Scoff. “Really? You’re telling me that I’m jealous of my own sister? Please Yoongi, I’d rather be jealous over that poor woman over there.” You point at a woman who’s evidently on a fight with a man who you assume to be her boyfriend. It looks steamy. Probably leading to a breakup. Yoongi laughs softly. Looks at where you are pointing at briefly.

“Well, that’s not your face and your actions say. You’ve been ogling your sister and her boyfriend for the entire night. And glaring like you want to murder them with just your eyes.” That’s not true. You want to laugh. Yoongi doesn’t let you. “And we’re at a club Li Li, there’s plenty of fun things happening but here you are, staring at your sister like she’s offended you in hundred ways possible.” Shows you a gummy smile. In another time, you would’ve found that adorable. Now, though, you’re annoyed at this man. What is he even talking about. Jealous? That’s not the case at all. You’re not jealous. Right? It’s just that Liya makes you uneasy.

“Oh, c’mon, why would I be jealous of her now? Business? I don’t give a fuck about business Yoongi. Success? I─”

“Maybe, him.” Yoongi cuts you off by pointing at someone else. This time as you follow his lead you meet with the man who’s been not around for a while. Park Jimin. With Taehyung. And his eyes are already at you. You don’t know how long he’s been there. Eyeing you. You’ve caught plenty of times Jimin staring at you. He looks like he’s having the worst night of his life. You haven’t seen him smile let alone laugh at least one time tonight. He’s tense. For some reason, that realization makes you relieved in a sickening way. You really feel relaxed. Boring into Jimin’s eyes from such a distance between you. How odd.

You get so enthralled by Jimin’s eyes that you almost forget that Yoongi had initiated something. Had pointed the cause of your jealousy- which you’re not- is Park Jimin. Which is quite dangerous. And you only come back to the earth and to your senses when you catch the sight of the woman who waltz toward him. Delicately. Her long hair flowing around her. Like that, insufferable, gut-wrenching sensation consume you whole again. You click your tongue in annoyance. “You should think about what you’re talking about Yoongi. That’s really outrageous of you. Accusing me of─”

“I’m not accusing Li. My stupid cousin doesn’t know how to keep secrets from me.”

You snap your head toward Yoongi so hard that you’re certain you break your neck. “What? What the hell? Hoseok told you?” Your eyes instantly start to roam over the club for any hint of your so-called stupid boss. “I’m gonna fucking cut him into little pieces and…” You grit your teeth hard. Hard enough that your jaw hurts.

“It’s not really his fault. I know how to make him talk.” Yoongi provides excuses for his cousin. You scoff.

“Oh, yeah? So, then it’s your fault?” You turn back to him. Shoot a glare. “What’s your point then Yoongi? Now, what to do you want from this shit?” You’re thoroughly annoyed, you can actually strangle this man to death. Yoongi’s eyes widen as he shakes his head slightly.

“Nothing. I want nothing. Why would I want anything from you when I barely even know you?”

“Then what’s the point of bringing this on? Why would you press Hoseok to tell you something that won’t affect you at all?”

“Because I love making my cousin suffer and tea is tea Li.” Yoongi shrugs. Nonchalant. The nerve of this guy to bring up this conversation like this when your brain is frying.

“Good. No this is great. Let’s start a fucking club with all the people who know I’m fucking my sister’s boyfriend and─ fuck, who doesn’t know it at this rate? Do you think Namjoon knows too? Yoona? J? Fucking hell, I think Liya might know too”

“I don’t think so.” Yoongi turns back to the two people in the far corner of the club. You force yourself not to follow his line of vision. “I’m the only one who heard it from Hobi. I can assure you he’s good at keeping secrets. It’s just he’s not good at keeping them from me. I know the guy too damn well.”

“He told Jungkook too.”

“He didn’t. He just told him you’re with Jimin and Jungkook put two and two together.”  You throw a skeptical glance at Yoongi. He knows that too? Is he and Hoseok just cousins or are they fucking married? He’s right, though. You know that’s what happened. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth. You don’t know what you’re doing. Feeling riled up. Sitting in a club. Having this conversation with Yoongi out of all the people. What’s wrong with your life. “And if you are planning on keeping it a secret, you shouldn’t visibly show how jealousy you are.” Yoongi adds. You groan loudly.

“I’m not jealous Yoongi… I just─” You don’t know what to say. It’s hard to explain what you’re feeling. And Yoongi makes it even harder with the small smirk he gives you. You try to rake your brain for suitable words. Feeling frustrated. That’s when Jungkook’s voice interrupts you. You turn your head upward to look at him. Grateful for the distraction. Even more appreciative when he shows you a pack of cigarettes.

“Wanna have a smoke Noona?” He shakes the pack. You jump to your feet without a beat of hesitation. “You wanna join too, Hyung?” Jungkook asks Yoongi too. For your pleasure he shakes his head. Says that he’s not in a mood. Gives you a soft smile. Enough to melt your irritation slightly. So, you return the smile before you sigh.

“Well, welcome to the family, Yoongi.” Mumble before you allow Jungkook to lead you away. Explaining to him that Yoongi knows too. Yoongi just chuckle as he waves you off.

……………………….

There’s a smoking area inside the club. But of course, Jungkook brought you to the dark alleyway behind the club. Having CEO friends’ privileges. You’re glad though. It’s refreshing to be outside. Away from the blaring music of the club and Liya’s hovering presence. You lean against the wall next to Jungkook. Your head resting against his upper arm as you share a one cigarette as always.

“You’re on edge Noona.” Jungkook blows out a puff of smoke. Brings the cigarette to your lips. You don’t raise your head as you wrap your lips around it.

“I don’t like Liya. “Simply state a half truth.

“Yeah? Why is that? Because you feel guilty?”

“Maybe yeah. I don’t know. It can be that. She makes me nervous.” You’re not being completely honest or dishonest. Because you don’t know what’s the uncomfortable feeling for yourself either. It’s not jealousy, though. It’s not. Why would you be jealous? Then it should be the guilt. Not being able to look her in the eye. Jungkook sighs. Not a heavy one. Takes another puff.

“Then you don’t have to do this Noona. You can always stop it.” Says as he exhale. You chuckle. Get comfortable in your position.

“It’s not easy as it sounds.”

“Why not? If it’s just sex, you can always just end it. He’s not the only man alive. I’m pretty sure, there’s plenty of men who can make you cum better than Park Jimin.”

That’s exactly the thing. It’s not just sex now, is it? Only if you can find words to describe it the way you want. “It is sex, yes but I’m enjoying it Kookie. It’s not about good orgasms. He kinda make me feel fucking special.” You fix your eyes upon a distant streetlamp. You can feel Jungkook tenses as you speak. “You see, I’m not a person who had the best kind of life. It’s not bad either but I’m from a middle-class family. I had everything and had nothing at the same time. You know like my parents brought me a phone, but I had to budge them for weeks kind of life.” You tug from Jungkook’s hand for another puff before continuing. “My sister was the rebel. She didn’t want to get a degree or work hard for her life. So, she got married early because she thought college is a waste of money. And my parents thought it was their fault. They were disappointed, heartbroken, and there was I, who thought it was now my duty to fulfil the things my sister couldn’t. I know it’s silly, but I did.”

You finally raise your head to look at Jungkook’s face. He’s expressionless. Still tense. Yet is listening to you intensely. You take that as your cue to keep going. “I’m not saying my life is bad. But it isn’t good either. I feel like I never had a life. I have a best friend who loves me, a good family, I’ve dated, I drink, smoke, and hell I go to clubs. But I don’t think I have ever enjoyed anything. I always wanted to balance it out, control it. It was uh…” You avert your gaze to your heel clad feet. “Dull.” Start playing with an old cigarette but someone had left there. “But this─” Raise your head to look around you. Gesture to your surroundings with your both hands. “Is exhilarating Jungkook. I never had a friend group. It was just Key and me. Now look at me, I’m surrounded by people whom I never thought would take notice of me at all. I’m in love with this life. And Jimin is a huge part of it. I know it’s very wrong and I’m a bitch, but I think… uh… maybe I love the thrill.” You perk up. Suddenly feeling like you’ve found an answer for the math problem you’ve been stuck at for hours. “Yes. I love the fucking thrill. Doing something dangerous. I feel like living.” Look at Jungkook expectantly. He still looks emotionless.

“So, that’s it. You’re ruining yourself because you love the thrill?” Questions with a strained voice. It’s weird. You blink at his face. “Then will you end it if you’ve ever found something more thrilling than that? If you found someone who makes you feel special, better than him?” Adds. You become motionless. Will you? You honestly don’t know. Will there be anyone who will do it better than Park Jimin?

“I… will…” You shrug. Jungkook is waiting for your answer. “But now since I only got nearly a year I think, maybe I can live this life and then leave it behind.” You rumble. Starting to become uncertain again.

“So, you would leave?”

“What else I can do?”

“You were panicked and so worried about leaving before.”

“I still am Jungkook. It hurts to think that I have an end date to this life. And it’s not only about Jimin. It’s about everything. I mean I don’t think I’d ever find a hot, tattooed, pierced, buff housemate, who’ll share his cigarette with me.” You nudge him with your shoulder. That finally got Jungkook’s stony face to crack. A small chuckle escapes his pink lips. “But a year is a long time apparently, and I’m trying to live this life to the fullest. And I’d like to pretend what I’m doing is fine.” He nods finally. Brings the cigarette back to your mouth.

“But will you consider it if I ask you to stay in the end. Like you did with Jimin? Am I important enough for you to consider it?” He watches how you suctioned your cheeks to take a long drag. You stop it midway through to look at him surprised. He looks serious back again. You don’t know an answer to it. Jungkook isn’t Park Jimin. Yet he is very important to you. He is your comfort person. You’ve become really attached to each other. You take the cigarette to your hand. Your expression softening.

“Course you are important. Very.” You offer him a soft smile as his entire demeanor changed into something bright. His Bambi eyes sparkling. He bites on to his bottom lip to contain the smile that is threatening to spill. And you feel relaxed too. Your earlier discomfort disappears. See, Jungkook is your comfort person.  Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but his moment get ruined as the back door opens suddenly.

You both turn your head toward the newcomer. You half expecting to see Hoseok or Taehyung for no reason. But your smile falters at the not expected sight of Jimin there. The relaxed feeling you felt pops out like a bubble. That uncomfortable feeling settles back inside you. You know you’re not being reasonable, but you really feel mad at him. Childish. Jimin’s eyes flicker between you and Jungkook. You think he looks pissed for a moment. Then he changes it into a calm one quickly. He can’t be mad at you. Despite his words saying he’d be jealous, and you’d be his, he can’t hold the same words toward Jungkook. You live with Jungkook. Just like Jimin lives with Liya. And you have no reason to feel any resentment toward Jimin or Liya. You do, however.

“What are you doing?” Jimin’s voice sounds strange to you at this moment. He looks like he’s battling an invisible battle. Trying hard to keep a fire from blaring. You hold the cigarette in front of his face. Forcing yourself to act normal because being mad at Jimin is embarrassing.

“Smoking. What does it look like?” Fuck, you fail miserably. Resentment and malice pour off with each word. Jimin clenches his jaw. His calm exterior starting to break down.

“Can we talk?” Yet he’s doing it better than you. Manages to ask it in a normal voice. Not without gritting his teeth or sounding bitter.

“I don’t want to.” You’re making it worse. You need to act like an adult. Not a jealousy bitch- because you’re not. What’s wrong with you. You take a step back, away from Jimin and press yourself against Jungkook. And finally, Jimin fails too. You visibly notice the fire inside his eyes.

“I’m not asking.” Jimin takes a step toward you. Your heart skips a beat. He looks dangerous. A wild combination for angelic looking Park Jimin. You love that look. But you’re mad at him. You open your mouth to ask him to fuck off. Jungkook beats you up to it, however.

“I think she said she doesn’t want to Mr. Park.” Jungkook grabs your wrist instantly. Pulls you back at the same time he steps between you and Jimin. Everything falls into a deafening silence. Everything goes still. So quiet that you can hear the music very clearly now. Your irritation replaces with a sudden panic as Jimin looks dead in the eye with Jungkook. Jungkook does the same. They both look like two bulls ready to fight till death. Waiting for starting signal. Even the sight is enough for your mouth to go dry. This is not good. You step away from Jungkook abruptly. Drop the cigarette in your hand to the floor. Step on it.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Walk around the two men who stop their glaring competition to pay you attention. “I’m fine Kookie.” Reassure Jungkook before opening the door and disappear behind it, knowing very well that Jimin would follow you.

……………………………..

He does. You only get to make it halfway toward the bathrooms when you are yanked back with a rough grip on your upper arm.

“You’re moving out.” Jimin shouts as he turns your around. You feel a ringing in your ears. All the frustration and anger you've felt the whole night explode at his tone. Fucking authoritative. Demanding. As if he owns you.

“Like hell I would.”

“Who the hell does he think he is?”

“I don’t know. Maybe my friend. Let me go, Park.” You try to wriggle your arm free. Clenching your teeth. You’re standing in a corridor leading to the bathrooms. Mostly empty save for the two people who walk past you without giving a fuck about what’s happening.

“Why the fuck are you mad at me, Lil?”  He pulls you toward him. Eyes boring into yours. Hell, what’s your answer now?

“Why the fuck are you mad at me?” So, you answer him with a question.

“Because I’m fucking jealous.” Jimin’s grip tighten so hard that you whimper. He brings his face closer to you. So close that his nose nudges against yours. “I’m fucking jealous Spring Roll.” He lowers his voice. It turns into a grumble. You blink at him in surprise. Reveling in his warmth. Can smell alcohol on him. Your heart starts to hammer inside your chest. He got you speechless. Dumfounded. Park Jimin is always annoying when he is honest. When he admits. Oh, how freely he admits that. “I told you I’d be jealous Lil. Told you I’m gonna be fucking annoying to you. Told you I won’t be sharing you, in any. Fucking. Way.” He manhandles you roughly. You don’t even realize what’s happening until you’re pressed against a wall. Jimin’s bruising grip never leaves you. He brushes his lips over yours.

“I’m mad because I couldn’t be the one to sit next to you whole night. I’m mad because Jungkook had his hands on you every fucking time I look at you. And you didn’t even look at me. I’m fucking mad you stepped toward Jungkook instead of me Lil.” His hand finally leaves your arm. Just to cup your cheeks. “Don’t do that, dammit.” You suck in a sharp breath when presses his lips hard against you. It’s fleeting kiss. Bites your lower lip gently. Pulls away too fast for your liking. Making you fruitlessly chase his lips. Wanting more. He doesn’t give it you. “Don’t fucking chose someone else.” Presses his lips hard to yours again. “I understand that you live with him and he’s a good friend and all that shit but don’t walk to him.” Another kiss. Then another. Starts pressing fleeting kisses to your lips like he’s gone mad. “You’re mine, princess. You agreed to be mine. And fuck baby, you look so damn good.” Lets go of your cheeks too. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to rip this damn dress off you.”

Wraps his arms around your body and finally gives into a deeper kiss. Rough and bruising. Tongue pushing past your lips harshly. Shifts between nibbling and sucking. Gets you breathless. You pull away from him with a struggle. Jimin doesn’t let you go far, however. Presses his lips against you the moment you suck in a short breath. Not enough. Your lungs are screaming for oxygen. At the same time, you can feel the fire inside your stomach. Making you curl your hands around his neck. Pull from his hair as you kiss him tenderly. His soft lips work seamlessly against yours. Slotting perfectly. He drags his tongue across your teeth as you press your body tight against him. Wanting more friction. Arousal is already starting to seep out and your nipples grazing your bra uncomfortably. You groan into the kiss. This time managing to escape his lips and panting for much needed air.

Jimin uses the opportunity to bury his face in your neck. His arms drops to your ass. Pushes you harder onto him. Peppers your neck with wet kisses. Trailing them toward your shoulder and teething at the thing strap of your dress. You let your head fall back, hitting the wall behind you. How fascinating it is that your moods are changing faster than thunder. Gone is the irritation and anger you felt mere seconds ago. Desire replacing it. And you’re at ease all of a sudden in Jimin’s arms. You don’t worry about finding the reasons for your irritation anymore. What does it matter, anyway? Despite everything, Jimin is here, isn’t he? Despite everything he was mad and jealous that he couldn’t be with you. He wanted to talk. He followed you. That is just enough for you. Weird how that makes you content but all that matters is the feeling. So, you give into that feeling willingly. The comfort of Park Jimin.

Jimin’s hands wander over your ass cheeks. Squeezing your soft flesh while he grinds his hips onto your body. Letting you feel the evidence of his arousal. Hard against your stomach.

“Jimin..” You call him breathlessly. He drops one of his hands from your ass to your thigh in response to that. Hikes up your dress as he rubs and touches your sensitive skin. Hooks his hand under your thigh to lift your leg up. Place it on his waist. Grinds hard.

“Are you wet?” Jimin purrs in your ear. You stare at him with lustful eyes. Nod. “Yeah? Shall I check?” Doesn’t wait for you to finish nodding as his hands sneak under your dress. Two fingers dragging along your slit. Over your panties. Hums in approval at the wetness he finds there. “Shit baby, you’re always fucking wet for me.”

“Yes, like you’re always hard for me.” You make your point by bucking your hips onto him. You both chuckle in unison. Oh, you’re not mad at all. It’s all past. Your laughter dies down when Jimin presses his finger to your clit. You moan softly before pulling him into another kiss. Starting to fall back into a senseless state. Head spinning. Everything around you dissipate in that state. Leaving you and Jimin alone in your own world. His hand working over your wet slit relentlessly as you grind against his hard cock. It’s just you two. Nothing else. His lips on yours. You close your eyes to delve deeper into that. Clinging to Jimin for your dear life. Deeper and deeper. Losing your minds on each other─

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

You snap your eyes open at the sound that suddenly blares over the loud music. Lips still on Jimin’s. He is the one who pulls away first. Both of your heads turn to catch the person who interrupted you. Breathless. It takes your lust induced brain a split second to realize what’s happening. When it does, Jimin has already dropped your leg down to the floor. Withdraws from you so fast as if you’ve burnt him. His eyes wide. Skin turns pale. You’re sure you don’t look anything different. Your stomach sinks as you feel your legs buckle.

“L-Liya!” Jimin stutters uncomfortably. Painfully rooted to his spot and gaping at Liya like she’s a ghost. Liya takes a step forward. Then stops. You watch stupidly how her face changes from disbelief to anger in a fractured second. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish. Says nothing as she turns around. Storms away. “Fuck! No, Liya!” Jimin calls after her in vain as Liya disappears from your view in a heartbeat.

To you it feels like things are happening in slow motion as Jimin turns to look at you. Hastily. It’s a quick glance. Then he breaks into a sprint. Following Liya. Disappearing after her. Leaving you to stand in a corridor leading to a bathroom. Alone. He follows Liya. Like he should.

……………………………

You stand there, rooted to the floor, with no idea how long it has been. Your heart is beating in your ears. Your sight blur. Your head is spinning. To say you’re shocked is an understatement. It’s a mixture of shock, guilt, fear, shame, and sadness. And above all you feel utterly stupid.

You can’t believe that you’ve allowed yourself to do something stupid like that. To get carried away. You were in an open corridor for fucks sake. How could you have let that happen. You steady yourself by pressing your hand to the wall. Your legs are shaking badly. Your mind races, replaying everything you could have done to avoid this. But every stupid mistake you made led you to this. Now you’re standing here while people walk past you here and there. You can’t stay here forever, though. You can’t hide away. It happened. It’s already too late. The very thing you feared the most has happened.

Now there’s no good that will come by just standing here. You take a step forward. Slow. Feeling like your feet are suddenly heavy. You can’t move them freely. Then another. One by one. Yet it doesn’t really feel like moving to you. It’s like your body is leaving without you. And with every step you take, your heart comes close to exploding. You turns around the corner to meet with the flashing lights. People going on with their happy, exciting night. Nothing has changed. Everyone is oblivion to the inner turmoil you’re feeling. World is going on normally. You can’t really hear any sounds, though. Can’t see anyone else either. It’s all blurry and sounds are hazy. Still, you manage to drag your heavy feet forward. Slowly nearing your booth.

You don’t know what you expect really. To have Jimin already gone or waiting for you. But when your eyes finally land on the figures next to your booth you realize that it would’ve been much better if they’ve left. It would have caused you a great heart ache to think, Jimin once again chose Liya, but that would’ve been much better than this. You can’t face them. Absolutely cannot. So, you freeze. Just few feet away from them. Everybody is there. Liya is standing near Jimin. You can’t hear what they are talking about. But you know Liya is yelling at Jimin, who’s trying to calm her down, if his raised palms are anything to go by. Liya points a finger at him. Says something animatedly. Looks like she’s on the verge of crying. You feel your heart twist.

You can’t walk there like nothing happened. You’re oh so fucking ashamed. You’re the one who caused this ruckus. Their relationship is crumbling and you’re the reason. How can you walk there like nothing happened. You need to hide away. Wait till they leave. That’s exactly what you’re trying to do. Nearly succeeds at it when Liya’s eyes averts away from Jimin. Landing directly on you. Jimin turns around to check what she’s looking at too. So, does everybody else. And it all happen so fast. You don’t even get to take a proper breath before Liya strides past Jimin. He tries to catch her in vain. She’s too quick. Is standing before you with a burning glare. Her glorious face twisted ugly in anger. She only says two words.

“You bitch!”

And her palm hits your cheek with a loud smack.

For the initial shocking period, you feel nothing. Then there comes the sting. And the loud music that had been a white noise in your ears comes all clear to you. Sounds of people talking becomes all clear and noisy. You turn your head back to Liya. Slowly. Eyes starting to prick with tears. Due to the embarrassment. The shame. Humiliation. Liya has slapped you in a club full of people. You don’t dare to look around you, but you know people are watching. Seeing. Talking. Mumbling. This is drama here. You want the floor to split up and swallow you as a whole.

Unfortunately, though, that isn’t an option for you. Liya yells something else that doesn’t reach your ears as you look back at her. Then she nearly lunges at you again. This time though, Jimin drags her back. His hands tightly wraps around her to keep her in place.

“Enough Liya. That’s fucking enough!” His voice booms through the hundreds of other noises. A pair of hands do the same to you as well. Drags your limp body a step back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You recognize that voice to be Jungkook’s. Then as you look down you recognize his tattooed hand as well. Encircled around your middle. You feel like dreaming. Liya tries to escape Jimin’s grip. Ready to attack you like a sow who lost her cub. What a slip in Liya’s demeanor. She always stays calm. At least in front of people. In your eyes she always looked matured. The power woman. CEO. Now, however, she is going berserk. Well, she just found her boyfriend’s hand inside another woman’s dress. Fair. You don’t even realize that you’re surrounded by people. Seoyeon reaches Liya as well. Trying to aid Jimin. You don’t hear what they are saying. You only catch glimpses of your friends. Saying million different things. It all comes down to you one minute and then vanishes.

“Have it with your motherfucking boyfriend crazy woman.”  Jungkook bellows from behind you. Still keeping you close. You don’t know to whom or for what he’s replying. Your hazy eyes catch J reaching you.

“Are you okay?”

Your ears ring.

“Dude, we can’t do this here.”

Your ears ring.

“Press is going to have field day.”

Nothing.

“Take her away you idiot.”

Rings. Nothing.

“Calm down please.”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“We’re leaving Noona.” Nothing. A shake. “Hey! Baby, let’s go.” You zero your eyes on Jungkook. “Let’s leave, okay?” You nod. Without knowing what you’re agreeing to. Your eyes wander back to Jimin as Jungkook starts to half walk and half drag you away. Liya is calmer now. Jimin has his arms around her still. Around her. Not you. Someone else is taking you away. Jimin is staying with Liya. Like he should. Everything is a mess. Utter chaos. You finally notice how troubled and furious everyone look. You caused that.

You ruined everything. J’s birthday. This night. Liya. Maybe your friendship with these people. So much more than you can even fathom. You ruined it all. Above all, you ruined you and Jimin.

Fuck, you ruined it. All because you were so stupid. Wasn’t thinking straight. You try to keep your eyes on him as long as you can. And at the right time Jungkook drags you through a door, Jimin lifts his head to look at you. Eyes emotionless.

I just can’t go and break up with Liya.

He made it clear from the first day. If it ever come to this kind of situation, he’s going to choose Liya. Because you are the other woman. See, you’ve done it. Even before it starts properly, you have ruined it.

That’s what happened.

RUINED and DESTROYED.

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Shieldmaiden Wendy 🛡️🌺