#jimin scifi au

[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

[mintchocochipwrites]

Now I'm thinking about a fantasy/scifi au where jin and jimin are personifications of the moon and hobi and jk are of sun. There would be a binary star system that the earth orbits where the members live and two moons that orbit the earth. Jk and hobi have known each other for ages while jin and jimin are wandering the earth feeling lost. They would finally find each other when an extremely rare sun eclipse happens and both moons are lined with the suns

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Supers and the Not

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Okay. The original request was for Cyborg!Jimin, but I made a few tweaks. I’ve been recently intrigued by this Stephen Hawking excerpt, where he warns about the future of designer genetics v. humanity. So.... Jimin is not a cyborg, but a genetically engineered superhuman. AND, GO. (OH, + this dialogue: “Are you warm enough?”)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 3,637

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The term superhuman has held many meanings throughout history.

In comic books, superhumans are superheroes. They are beings who use their powers for good, who protect society from unnatural adversaries. The term has changed greatly since then. When science grew bolder and human curiosity surged, the word superhuman began to transform. It became a label; one which separated a new category of human from old.

The supers from the not.

Back in the old days, designer babies (as they were called) were edited merely for defects. Scientists easily identified potential genetic diseases like sickle-cell or Huntington’s, sending in nanotech to modify and fix the code. Obviously, there was debate around this and obviously, humans were wary – but the benefits were proven to outweigh the cost.

Scientists did not stop there. No longer did they research disease, but the human psyche itself. As the map of human DNA filled in its corners, their research became riskier, more complicated and far more exciting. Once all human defects were eliminated, what else remained but the good traits?

Good traits – which could become great.

The first superhumans were not called super. Super was a nickname generated by an overenthusiastic media before they grasped what their existence truly meant. The supers were a class of human beings all on their own – able to see further, hear better, run faster. They were taller, more beautiful and far more intelligent. This was the real kicker – humans have survived extinction based on their wit alone. The appearance of supers meant regular humans could no longer compete.

The so-called supers were turned against the not.

You are not super. Your parents could not afford you to be. While many your age were conceived in a tube; their embryos tested, operated on and perfected; you were conceived the old-fashioned way, with a virtual roll of the dice.

Still, you have always done well for yourself. In a world where you were born at a natural disadvantage, you have always managed to survive. Survival is truly the best-case scenario given your circumstances. Always, you have harbored the unique ability to assess a situation, determine its risks and choose the right outcome. Some call it luck, others skill, but you know it for what it truly is – the only option.

Take now, for instance.

Currently you sit in a white, pristine lobby on a white, pristine couch in front of a white, pristine receptionist. She keeps glancing your way, wrinkling her nose as though you have a strange smell. Warily, you shift in your seat and wonder if somehow you do. Maybe her sense of smell is so acute she can pick up on an aroma you cannot.

Or maybe she is only an ass. This option seems more likely to you.

When the door to the waiting room swings open, you look up. A woman holds it ajar with her hip, checking the hologram hovering above her wrist. 

“Y/N?” she asks, sounding utterly bored.

“That’s me,” you say, rising to your feet.

Swiftly, she looks your way and wrinkles her nose. “Follow me.”

She turns, the door nearly falling shut behind her. You are forced to run in order to catch it, barely grasping its edge before it closes on your hand. From behind you, the receptionist snickers and, glowering, you step through the door. The hallway beyond it is equally pristine and white.

The assistant is already halfway down the hall.

“So,” you pant, practically jogging to keep up with her stride. “The ad didn’t mention what specifically I would be doing. Do you have an overview?”

For the first time since meeting, the woman smiles. Paused in the middle of the hall, she looks at you as though you are something to be pitied and you repress the urge to slap the look from her face.

“And yet you still answered the ad. Most peculiar.”

Drawing yourself to your full height – which is still several centimeters below hers – you glare. “As though I have a choice,” you say coldly. “There aren’t many jobs left which accept normals.”

“Pity.”

She walks past you, opening a doorway you had not yet noticed. The seams of it blend into the wall, barely even noticeable unless you have super vision. The room beyond seems darker than the hall. Finally, the walls surrounding you are not white – it takes you a second to adjust to the lighting.

“He’s waiting,” the assistant says, as though you are a gigantic waste of her time. Maybe you are.

Walking forward, you hear the door fall shut behind you. The new room is utterly silent, nothing to be heard but the sound of your breathing – and his. Your potential employer stands behind a large desk, as though this were a formal gathering of businessmen, and not a rather sketchy job interview.

Fuck, supers are beautiful. 

It is hard not to be dazzled by his outward appearance. A sculpted jawline, bright gaze and sharp nose – standing before him, you feel rather meek in comparison. Before you can speak, the man clears his throat.

“Sit,” he says, waving at the chair opposite. “Please, Y/N, sit. Are you warm enough? Sometimes the temperature of this room is far too cold.”

Of course, he would need confirmation of this. Most supers can sustain greater temperature fluctuations than normals. It is one of their many improvements.

Warily, you take a step closer. “You know my name.”

He smiles politely. “You did fill out an application, you know.”

“I know.” Stiffly, you pull the chair back to sit.

Silence stretches between you, both of you staring and trying not break first. Finally, he speaks. 

“How silly of me.” Chuckling good-naturedly, the man ducks his head. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Park Jimin, but you may call me Jimin.”

“Most supers prefer to be addressed by their surname.”

Jimin’s smile falters. “Yes, well… Ah. All the same, I prefer to be called Jimin.”

“Alright.” You say this as though it is neither here nor there. “Jimin, it is.”

“Wonderful.” Jimin flicks a hand over his desk. A blue hologram appears. “Down to business, then. You’re probably wondering why my ad was so cryptic.”

Uncaring, you shrug. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Jimin pauses. “That would have been my first question.”

He seems genuinely curious and in response, your gaze narrows. The underlying implication is obvious – you normals do not think things through before acting. Not in the same way they do. Normal thought is somehow ages behind that of the supers.

Gritting your teeth, you lean forward. “The ad didn’t surprise me because, based on prior experience, supers tend to be vague about illegal requests.”

Jimin’s cheeks color. Slowly, he lowers his hand and the blue hologram fades. “I see.” Quickly, he glances at the door you entered from. “You’ve answered this kind of ad often, then.”

“Not a question.”

“No, merely an observation.” His gaze becomes shrewd. “I can see you don’t trust me.”

Not wishing to implicate yourself any further, you remain silent.

Jimin arches a brow. “Well, do you?”

“No,” you say simply. “I do not.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. My kind can be… well, cruel to yours.”

Again, you say nothing. Part of survival is knowing when to hold your tongue. Part of survival is knowing when to play the part of the lower, sub-species and when to let them know you understand.

“I need you to trust me, though,” Jimin says quietly. “I need you to trust me, since I’m going to be very, very honest with you.”

Despite your best interest, his words pique your curiosity. Supers do not often care about honesty. 

“It will be difficult to undo years of training,” you note.

Jimin laughs. The noise escapes before he can help it. “Yes,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose so. Perhaps it would be good, then to tell you who I am.”

“You’re Park Jimin. You’re a super.”

His eyes are dark brown with flecks of gold at the center. The effect inspires warmness, emotion and you trust absolutely none of it. Everything about this man is designed to draw people in. Idly, you wonder how much his father paid for it.

“True,” Jimin says. “But I am also Park Jimin, of Park Enterprises.” Launching into what can only be assumed to be his Wikipedia biography, he continues, “My father is Park Jiwoo, researcher and entrepreneur. I have no siblings. I am 169 cm tall, which is considered below average for a super and I –”

“Okay, none of that matters to me,” you interrupt, waving your hand. Jimin ceases talking immediately, blinking owlishly and you wonder if this is the first time he has been interrupted. “God,” you groan, slouching low in your seat. “You supers are all the same, aren’t you? Listing facts and figures like that’s all people care about.”

Jimin bristles. “That is what most people care about.”

“Not normals,” you say, softening a tad. “Not humans, really. Tell me something different. Tell me something personal.”

The blue light from his desk makes him seem almost haunted. Likely, the lights in his room are intelligent; designed to reflect his mood and adjust appropriately. You wonder what they glean from him now, since he seems stressed in your gaze. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his grip tense on the table before him. Uneasily, you wonder what a super could have to be worried about.

“I don’t really know what you mean.” His brow puckers. “Do you want my government ID number, or something? That’s personal.”

“God, no,” you choke out, trying hard not to laugh. “If you gave me that, they’d just think I stole it.”

His lips lift in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, they would.”

“I know I’m right. I want something different. I want to hear about…” Glancing around, you wonder what could possibly make you trust this man. What could possibly make you relate to this super. There are photographs on his desk – a family photo, which is interesting. Looking up, you meet Jimin’s gaze. “Tell me the last time you cried.”

“The last time I… cried?”

“Or, can you not?” Politely, you cross one knee over the other. “Are you supers so far removed from humanity that you no longer feel? Were your tear ducts removed along with your defects?”

“I can still cry,” Jimin mutters, gaze heated.

“Then, prove it. Tell me.”

Slowly, he leans back in his seat. “Last Thursday. 10:12 AM.”

“And what happened to make you cry?”

“I learned information which scared me.”

His honesty catches you off guard. Either Park Jimin is a very good actor, or he is telling the truth. He truly does look fearful, which does not bode well for you. Fearful people tend to make bad decisions – and fearful supers tend to make cataclysmic ones.

“What information?”

Jimin shakes his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that. Not without you trusting me. Not without me trusting you.”

“Then, trust me.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Jimin slowly exhales. “Meeting you like this goes against everything I stand for. There are so many things which could go wrong... I have done the probability calculations over and over – twice while we were sitting here – and it is ludicrous to think I might find the solution, when –”

“Jimin.” Quietly, you interrupt.

He pauses before he looks up.

You meet his gaze. “Why am I here?”

Jimin’s expression morphs from stoic to helpless. “Because... you’re normal.”

“And?”

“And,” Jimin says, closing his eyes. “That means you are immune to the problem.”

The way he says problem sends a chill down your spine. He speaks as though he has exhausted every option and this is his last resort – and likely, you are. That is what tends to come from meetings like this.

This is not your first meeting from an unlisted number. This is not your first interaction where a person has disguised their voice while answering the phone. It isn’t your first time meeting someone in an unknown location and receiving details of a task said person needed performed. 

You do what you must. You receive payment. You survive.

This seems different, though – Jimin seems different.

With his eyes closed, Jimin looks almost human. You suppose that he is, but not in the same way you are. His skin is flawless, the milk of it dusted with blue veins and dark lashes. When he opens his eyes, you expect the illusion of his beauty to fade. It does not.

“What’s the problem?” you say, pushing these distracting thoughts aside.

“It’s easier… if I show you.” Reluctantly, Jimin reaches out to pull up a hologram. Blue strands of DNA twist before you in mid-air. “There have been many accepted edits of the human genome. Some are more progressive than others. The ampliointelligens procedure, for example, is the most widely known. It is where –”

“A person’s intelligence is increased,” you interrupt, bored. “I know. It’s Latin.”

Jimin quickly covers his surprise. “Of course. Anyways, the procedure was considered the first of the… super procedures. The ones which diverted from genetic correction to genetic improvement. And, as with any new field… there were errors.”

“Errors?”

This fact is news to you – nothing about mistakes was reported to the public, which explains Jimin’s trepidation on the matter. In the entire history of the supers, there has never once been any admittance of error. Their strength is their narrative, after all. The supers deserve their positions, their wealth and their influence because they are better. Because they can foresee things normal humans cannot. All of this fails to be relevant if they are proven to be imperfect.

“The concept of intelligence.” Jimin uses air quotes on the word. “Is hard to understand and even harder to change. Gene editing is simple. Take something like Huntington’s disease – we know the genetic defect which causes it. We can simply screen the DNA, cut out the harmful bit and replace it. That’s an over-simplification of the procedure of course, but – there’s low risk of something going wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“However, with something like intelligence… there’s still debate about which portions of the human genome are the most impactful. There are several accepted versions of the ampliointelligens procedure because of this disagreement.”

Hearing him say this, you blink. Again, this is news not known to the general public and you wonder why Jimin is telling you this – any one of these tidbits would be worth a fortune if the supers have covered them up for so long.

The surprise on your face must be obvious, because Jimin then sighs. “The variables increase with intelligence. There isn’t one DNA strand to consider, but millions. Trillions. Each tweak a surgeon makes has far-reaching repercussions; ones which geneticists admitted were impossible to know definitively at the time. And yet…”

“And yet, people underwent the procedure.”

“People were greedy. They are greedy,” Jimin corrects with a tick to his jaw. “Once a reasonable procedure was created, people wanted it – no matter the cost, no matter the risk. If there was a chance their children could be super, they took it.”

You notice Jimin says the word super with a bitterness usually reserved by your kind. This surprises you, if nothing else. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he is any more than you do.

“So.” You tap your fingers against your knee. “Back to the problem you mentioned.”

You assume this problem is why you’ve been asked here. There’s something Jimin needs and the sooner he asks it of you, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you can cease sitting before him, becoming oddly charmed by a man you despise.

He nods. “We’ve known about a mutation for years, but it has recently transformed into something insidious. One of the ampliointelligens procedures is the cause of this mutation. The DNA edit takes over, it spirals out of control and overpowers the human ability to empathize. This leads to rash decision-making, high levels of narcissism and the inability to relate to others. It can be… crippling.”

“Narcissistic and unable to relate?” Pressing your lips together, you keep them from twitching. “However will you separate them from the rest of the supers?”

“It isn’t the same,” Jimin says, a bit heated. “Supers can empathize, even if they place less value upon emotion than normals do. Supers still factor in an emotional response.”

“How noble.”

“You don’t understand.” Jimin leans forward. “Those afflicted by the mutation are incapable of decision-making – and what’s worse, they control every major resource in the country. Yes,” he says, spotting the look on your face. “The problem is bigger than just supers versus normals. If this disease spirals out of control, there won’t be a world left to save.”

“Is that what you intend to do?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Save the world?”

“I intend to try,” Jimin says quietly.

Maybe it’s this that convinces to you how serious this is. Jimin stares, brow furrowed, and you get the idea he doesn’t lie very often. Slowly, you tilt your head and observe him.

“How many?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“How many supers are afflicted?”

Staring at you, Jimin seems to sag in his seat. If he had a glass of alcohol in his hand, you imagine he would drink it. 

“About half the existing supers underwent the affected procedure,” he admits. “And it does not seem to be a question of if, but of when.”

“Oh.”

“Take my father, for instance,” Jimin continues, not looking away. “He began to exhibit symptoms last Thursday morning. I, on the other hand, have yet to show any.”

“How…” You pause, licking your lips. “If the procedure is as certain as you say, how does the public not yet know? How has it been kept quiet so far?”

“Those in power have methods of silencing.”

Not wanting to know more than that, you glance away. “I take it you think these methods will not remain effective for much longer?”

“I do not.”

“So, then why am I…” Glancing sharply upwards, understanding dawns. “You want me to be your guinea pig. You want to perform experiments on me because I’m immune. Because I’m normal.”

“Lord, no.” Jimin winces. “At least – not in the manner you speak of. I would like to compare samples of our DNA, yes. I’d like intelligence testing, brain scans – all of that would be on the table, but what I need you for most is observation.”

“Observation. Like, me in a glass room and a strait jacket?”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. I need you to observe me.”

“You?” 

“Like I said.” A sliver of desperation seeps into his tone. “I have no idea when my mind won’t be… my own. I’m seeing firsthand how my father has changed. I need someone neutral – someone not prone to the problem themselves – to weigh in.”

“And that person… is me?”

“Based on this meeting, I think so.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Y/N, has your intelligence ever been tested?”

“Are you serious? Intelligence testing is reserved for supers. Surely, you know that. Normals have no need to be tested.”

“And yet,” Jimin says calmly. “Since you entered this room, you’ve corrected me multiple times, synthesized complicated arguments and even translated Latin to English. Whatever you are,” he says, leaning forward. “It is more than what you let on.”

He sounds so self-assured in this statement, you almost believe him. Pushing the idea away, you glance at the door and gather your thoughts. No matter what choice you make, there’s no good way out. You were stuck from the moment you agreed to this meeting. Jimin has revealed too much to you – and yes, information is power, but not the kind that you hold.

Knowing weaknesses about the supers places a target on your back. Slowly, you return to him. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you say softly. “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’ll just send people after me when I leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Why not? I would, if I were you.”

“Because.” There’s something hard, something unreadable to his gaze. “I really need you to trust me.”

Variables flash through your mind, a fight or flight instinct warring in your bones. Eventually, you ignore all of it and instead, listen to the voice which whispers in the back of your mind. 

“Find,” you say slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Jimin sags into his chair. “Thank the fucking gods.” He sighs. “I didn’t really have a Plan B.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I’m afraid this is my final resort.”

“Then, why –”

“I think that’s enough chit-chat for today.” Pushing back his chair, Jimin stands from his desk. Pressing a button on the side, a noise buzzes in the hall. “I think it’s time you reviewed the terms of the contract. One of my assistants will show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms?” 

Without thinking, you stand as well.

“Of course,” Jimin shrugs. “You’ll be staying with me for the duration of the work period. Everything is outlined in the contract – which you will have until the end of this week to make amendments to. Will that be that satisfactory?”

“I…” Blinking at him, your mind reels. “Yes.”

“Good.” 

Clasping both hands before him, Jimin morphs back into the image of super. Banished is the distressed man you saw briefly but still, he lingers around the edges. 

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” he says quietly.

The door opens to reveal the tall assistant from earlier. She glances in surprise from you to Jimin, as though she did not expect you to stay.

Seeing her reaction, your smile broadens. “I look forward to working with you, too, Jimin,” you announce, walking towards the door.

It is mainly for the benefit of the assistant, but you cannot help but realize there is some truth to the words. Despite all you have said, that voice still exists deep within you. The one which usually warns you of danger is unusually silent in his presence. This unsettles you for a moment and then you walk past, stepping into the hall.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[petrichorjkk]

My works:

Not even in the darkest night:

In a world of hybrids and humans mixed together, Jungkook lives in a small town where he's the only hybrid. What will happen when he goes to meet his online best friend for the first time in Seoul?

The seaside meets the field grass:

Jeongguk lacks what others thinks is the most important sense for a wolf: smelling. When loneliness start digging too deep, he decides to seek comfort from an alpha scenting and cuddle expert. But things change as soon as he sees Jimin, the expert, standing in front of his door.

Can the loneliness bring Jeongguk some happiness?

Project J1913:

In a future where robots are the normality, Jimin challenges himself and his creation with the implanting of the soul that would make his robot as close to an human as humanely possible. Will Jimin succeed in his intention? And if yes, will it be worth it?

One in a million:

Jimin and Jeongguk are together from years and Jimin's family along with their group of friends are waiting for them to marry. Thing is, Jimin has to turn Jeongguk into a vampire to follow the vampires tradition and he's not sure he can do it.

Walking through the hunted house:

“He's not coming, lover boy, ” Seokjin calls out to him teasingly while his eyes fix on the door, hand on the rim of the glass he’s keeping to not let anyone give him another. He sighs, maybe Seokjin is right, he’s not coming -especially because the boy isn’t a party guy and he knows it. He takes a sip of the drink filling the glass he didn’t want to drink anymore.

That, in retrospect, backfires him because he finds himself choking on that small sip when his eyes catch on a pair of fire-y red booty shorts and a barely covering bralette, a face decorated by a red mask connected to big red bunny ears.

Cigarettes daydreams:

It's been two years since their break up, now jimin and jeongguk live their lives very differently from before, but the sadness always catches up on them. Missing the other is a silent war between regrets and wishes for things to have gone another way.

Welcome to the story of how they find themselves again.

[youarejesting]

Kookies, Trojans & Malware

[Sparks Masterlist]

[Tag Yourself]

Beta: @nightshadevinter​ Pairing: Robot!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, Action, Adventure, Romance. Words: 7.6k

Summary: Jungkook is a robot police officer. He obeys and upholds the laws. After mistaking you for the criminal you open up his world and soon he is ready and willing to break the law for you.

You were making an honest living selling romance novels and the latest was about a robot carer and a sick human; right at the end there was a hint of love. Having just got off the phone with your publisher, the story had gone viral. Everyone was asking for a robot-human love story, but you didn't know if you could write about that without having written from a robot’s perspective. You hadn't even met a robot outside of general shopping or passing them by on the street. 

You really liked the idea but wished you had some sort of extensive interaction with a robot. But this wasn’t the case. Your phone alarm went off, you had to pay rent, before the landlord called. But when you checked your bank there was a strange transaction going into your bank. It was from two days ago for a huge sum of 50,000,000KRW

This was super strange, you wondered why the police or bank hadn’t been calling or breaking down your door. That must only happen in movies, you turned back to your computer. The door was kicked open smashing into the wall beside you, making you squeak with shock as the place was flooded with police officers holding guns.

Restrained by someone you heard them recite your rights, "Good evening, I, police officer, robot division, Jeon Jungkook have come to place you under arrest for suspected fraud. Anything you say or do can be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you can't afford one, one will be given to you. I am a robot police officer..." he spoke through the whole spiel. 

You sighed exasperated, this isn't what you had in mind when you said you wanted to interact with a robot. "I am always recording, if you are uncomfortable with a robot police officer I will step aside and let my fellow officers take over"

You blinked slowly as he walked you out the hall, it wasn’t much of an apartment and the old lady next door peaked out her door to watch you get taken away. They would definitely talk while you were away. "We will head to the patrol vehicle and take you back to the station where we will interrogate you"

"Wait sir, uh... robot man, my cat?" You said, making him stop and look down at you whilst trying to process the meaning of your words. She was an odd cross-eyed most of the time but you loved her, she could hardly take care of herself while you were there. How would she survive on her own? You would implore to bring her with you.

"Your cat?" The robot repeated as a meow was heard behind you. He turned eyes wide looking at the animal who had stepped into the hallway "What about your feline companion?"

"Well, we can't let her get hurt, can I take her with me?" You asked, looking up at him hopeful, “She is only a little baby.”

"I am unsure?" He tilted his head, you could practically see him searching for an answer in his hard robes. The lights scanning past his eyes were an indication of his exploration of protocols and policies when it came to pets.

"If you leave a defenseless animal on their own they will die. Isn't a police officer's job to protect?" You countered hoping his system would understand that. You had never tried to outsmart a robot but you thought you could make a compelling argument.

He paused again, thinking over your words, before nodding, "Obtain your feline companion and we shall continue the arrest" He uncuffed your wrists but held them firmly in his hands making you look up at his stern eyes. “I am warning you if you try to run I will have to restrain you.

You grabbed your cat packing a small bag of food, and a small bag of litter, and a clean tray. Watching the officers in your apartment taking your things for evidence. Taking the cat and scooping her into the small cat carrier you walked back over to officer Jeon, “I must cuff you as is procedure, but I assure you, the animal will not be harmed."

You placed down the cage holding your hands behind your back letting him re-cuff your wrists. He leaned down gently picking up the cage his large hand secured around the handle. He guided you along and you tried to turn back to study him some more, "mister robot man?"

"My name is cyber office Jeon Jungkook." He looked straight ahead and you smirked at the professional personality programmed into his hard drives. The cat made a small meow and he adjusted the cage holding it in a way that kept it still as he walked.

"Sorry, um I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions later?" This would be an amazing opportunity to gather intel about robots for your next story. He was handsome and moved with such poise, there was a faint hum under his skin like the buzz of electricity in the air when your apartment got quiet.

"You have the freedom and right to speak" he smiled, you saw the Police cruiser just across the street and headed for it but he pulled you to the right and the two of you were walking away from the vehicle and down the street.

“Are we walking to the station?” You laughed sarcastically.

“No, though I am equipped with GPS and am fully charged and able to walk to the police station, I feel it would be much more comfortable for humans and more time-efficient to take the police cruiser parked across the road, driven by officer Han” He replied seriously gesturing to the very same police cruiser you were walking away from.

"It was sarcasm,” You snorted, “If that is your car, why are we walking away? where are you going?"

"To the intersection, Jaywalking is illegal" He sighed, checking on the animal which was moving around the carrier “I apologize I don’t often pick up human nuances. Perhaps you would be so kind as to teach me more?”

"Okay..." You hummed, the two of you finally reached the pedestrian crossing, you went to cross but he didn't budge, making you fall back and hit his broad chest "What, why did you stop?"

"We must wait for the pedestrian light to turn green indicating that it is safe to cross," He said as if he was reciting it for children and you rolled your eyes. 

"You follow every rule?" You questioned his dedication to the cause.

"I follow all rules." he said with a definite tone like he couldn’t be swayed.

"So what happens if the light is red but across the street, there was a man stealing a woman's handbag. You would have to wait for the light to turn green before crossing and pursuing the criminal and by that time he would have gotten away and may have even killed someone. When you could have captured him and saved lives and stopped more crimes. I mean really are you not aiding and abetting the criminal by watching them getaway.”

You saw him process this information until the light turned green, the symbol of the walking man prompting the robot to walk briskly across the road. As you walked back to the car you laughed “Your police officer friends are Jaywalking, you should write them a ticket.”

“My fellow police officers are the exception, I cannot turn against them,” He said, seeming to not understand this element of his instructions either.

“So if your fellow officers go rogue and shoot someone innocent you let them, they need to uphold the law so they should be the prime example, should they not?” 

“I don’t know, I must ask the sergeant and review my policies and procedures” You both finally got to the car, officer Jeon opened the door placing the cat down on the curb and turning to you, "you must sit in the back. Please mind your head"

He placed his hand over your head and guided you into the vehicle and even leaned over to buckle you in. "I will place your cat in the seat next to you" You were soon on your way to the police station. Where you were ushered into the interrogation room with Jungkook who held your cat carrier and bag.

The interrogation began and you were told to answer truthfully. 

“What is your name?” Officer Jeon asked with no writing or recording impliments.How was he recording your answers? Was he literally recording your answers?

“How about this, I will answer one of your questions, officer, and you answer one of my questions.” You asked curiously.

“What is your name, miss?” he asked again.

“My name is (Your full name),” You said and he nodded just as he opened his mouth to speak you asked your question quickly, “How do you record my answers without a pen and paper or laptop, and when you record my answers how does it get into the police system?” 

He didn’t answer looking at you and you leaned forward, “Come on it was my turn you have to be fair,”

“I am completely fair and just” he sat up straighter how that was possible for the prim and proper robot your would never know, “I record everything, it is saved on my system and the back up system whilst also being wirelessly sent to the national system where it is filed and finally everything is live fed to the bureau.”

“That’s really nifty. So you are recording everything now, where from?” You looked him up and down.

“That was more than one question miss y/n, I thought you were being fair and just, I am recording everything,” he raised one finger with a smirk and gesticulating another as he continued, “my eyes are the camera and my ears record everything I hear. That is two questions for me.”

“Correct,” You leaned in a little more intrigued further by his systems and personality and all that they entailed. He asked how old you were and where you lived and you answered leaning a little more over the desk. “What do you like to do?”

“What?” He looked shocked

“Hey you can’t answer a question with a question,” You pouted and he shut his mouth processing the meaning of your words, “You can just ask me to explain you don’t have to search everything. What do you like to do? it means like what are your hobbies?”

“Officer Han likes playing poker” He said slowly

“No, I asked what you like to do, not him,” You laughed at his expression. He seemed stumped “Like when you aren’t working.”

“I am always working and when I am not working I am charging” He said “Now, I have some questions about the recent activity in your bank…”

You were shocked all he knew was work and sleep, it was uncommon for humans to only know these two traits as well but you hoped he got to do something.

“Have you ever watched a movie?” You blurted out and he froze in the middle of reciting dates to you.

“I have obtained information from many movies, I understand pop culture references and have a list of top one hundred famous movie quotes in my system.”

“But have you seen them, like at a movie theatre?”

“No I haven’t.” He said looking impassive but you felt a little upset, sure he was a robot but that didn’t mean he had to spend his entire life working. You had no more questions for him after that finding you were a little scared to find out more. 

You were made to stay overnight in the cell. It was nice for a cell, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in but you, the bedding was freshly washed and pressed. What fancy cell was this? “It’s nice huh, at night Jungkook washes all the bedding and when he wakes up he makes the beds.”

“Is he allowed holidays?” You asked, “He only works, haven’t you tried to let him see other things outside of work.” 

“I am afraid he wouldn’t understand it, he is meticulous with his programs and doesn’t understand many other concepts.” The man said, watching officer Jeon walk over with a tray of food, “Good job Jungkook, you did a wonderful job”

“Hey officer Jeon, would you like to sit and have dinner with me?” You sat on the floor and gestured to the floor in front of you, he tilted his head.

“I don’t eat food miss y/n,” He smiled “I am a robot,”

“What do robots eat?” you grinned curiously, he ran off and came back with a bottle of something.

“Everyday I drink this liquid and every night before recharging I expel the old liquid, it keeps everything running smoothly.” He smiled pouring himself a cup.

“Well come sit with me and we can eat together,” You gestured and he sat smiling and you held up your cup and he held up his and you clicked glasses. Something flickered in his eyes. 

You watched him take a long drink as you took a sip and he stopped pulling the glass back down, swallowing thickly. He held the cup looking at the liquid inside and whenever you would take a sip he would drink a little more liquid.

The two of you were talking all night and you had finished your food and drink but he still held the cup sipping slowly watching you tell him about how you were afraid of trains, because when you were a kid you had been left on a train and bad things happened. “You have been holding that empty cup for ten minutes now Jungkook, you can’t fool me. Oh! I mean Officer Jeon.”

“It’s okay, I finished after you told me about the story about the sick human and the robot caregiver.” He grinned, “I liked that one, it is nice to see the robot caregiver being able to help the sick human.”

“You are getting tired, Miss y/n, it’s time to sleep” He said softly as you stood walking the tray to the door of the cell and he took the tray and left. You got into the bed and officer Jeon sat at his desk plugging a cord into his arm. You saw his shoulders slump indicating that he had powered down to charge and you closed your eyes falling asleep.

 ~

The next morning brought with it your discharge from the overnight cells, the officers thanked you for your cooperation and gave you a card in case you needed to contact them. Officer Jeon and Han drove you back to your apartment.

Officer Jeon insisted on carrying the cat carrier up the stairs. It seemed when the officer had woken up, your cat had snuck out of her cage and slept on his lap. The two continued to play throughout the morning and when you woke it almost seemed like the robot police officer was a little brighter.

You arrived at your apartment and watched as he tried to find where to put the cage. He was so endearing, you were going to ask even though you think you knew the answer. “Would you like to go to the movies with me, to watch a movie?”

He was snapped out of his dilemma of where to put the cage looking almost regretful, as he was about to turn you down. You took a deep breath, and opened your mouth to downplay it as just a friendly offer to get him away from work when a screeching of tires sounded outside your apartment. 

The two of you ran to the window and saw Officer Han shot down. There were beeping sounds coming from the robot officer and you looked at him horrified. “I just called for backup. Stay here and I will restrain them.” He said and the men started shouting and running into the building.

You heard them say your name and you knew his robot ears did too, “You are in danger. Do everything I tell you and stay behind me.” He looked at the cat cage and went to go out the apartment door and you caught his hand, “Follow me down the fire escape?”

The two of you got out and ran to the police car, Han’s was still alive, but barely. “Move him to the back seat, we will take him to the hospital” You whispered, trying not to panic., “Can you drive?”

“Well yes, but I can’t do car chases its against the law, that's why Han’s drives” He said, 

“Okay, Jungkook I need you to get in the passenger seat and close your eyes and don’t open them until we get there, I want you to get a GPS to the hospital and turn on the sirens” He nodded 

“Go straight.” You took off and the sirens were put on, true to his word he kept his eyes shut allowing you to maneuver through the traffic and got to the hospital stopping in the emergency bay. “We are here. Can I open my eyes?” 

“No wait,” you moved around the car and opened his door as the doctors ran out to grab officer Han. Leaning over Jungkook you took off his seat belt looking up. You got lost in his features, they were so smooth and his eyelashes were so long and you wanted to touch his hair. You let out a shaky breath and he seemed to feel it against his cheek, the cat carrier on his lap stirred and a meow was heard between you.

His eyes drifted open and focused on you, you were flustered. “I am in trouble, I am getting orders to return. They are wondering why I left the scene of the crime, I don’t know why I listened to a civilian. It went against all the policies and procedures, you broke the law.” He pushed the cat carrier into your hands and drove you back to the station. 

“Officer Jeon, you defied orders and you left a crime scene, let the two gunmen get away, can you explain why this is?” The sergeant said, you sat in the corner as a suspect to this crime and you had to give a statement regarding officer Han’s shooting.

This was it you were going to get in trouble for saving a police officer, “When I saw officer Han, I just moved instinctively to save him.” Your mouth fell open, he just lied, he cyber police officer Jeon Jungkook just lied to the sergeant, isn’t that against everything he stands for.

“I want you to hand over the footage of this incident?” The sergeant said

“There is none” He said “My wires shorted out and there is no footage from getting in the car to getting to the hospital”

Another lie. What is happening?

“Jeon Jungkook, you are going to be scheduled for maintenance at the end of the month.” The sergeant said “You are off active duty until then”

After all the more important officers left, Jungkook slumped into his chair. “Officer Jeon, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get taken off duty. I just wanted to save your partner officer Han, he was going to die”

“I don’t know what to do for twenty-one days, sixteen hours, forty-three minutes and eleven seconds. Ten seconds” He stated with no emotion, “Nine seconds.”

“You could come stay with me, my cat already loves you. Plus what if those guys come back,” You smiled and he looked up at the two of you before nodding. Grabbing a small supply of the special liquid he drinks the two of you took a taxi back to your apartment. 

~

Jungkook looked around; he wasn’t wearing his uniform but instead was wearing a tracksuit. Looking him up and down you laughed, “First we need to find you some clothes. I am pretty sure I have some old clothes of my dad’s, I couldn’t part with them all these years so now I guess I can finally get some use out of them.” 

You found him a button up and some dress pants and he went to get changed. When he stepped out you could help but tear up a little, “What is wrong?” Jungkook strode across the room and looked at you, “Have I done something to offend you or make you upset?”

“No, no” you sniffed, laughing at his over the top reaction. “I just miss my father.”

“Where is he?”

“He passed away a few years ago,” You said and Jungkook seemed to slowly process that information but struggled to comprehend the extent of the feeling.

“I am sorry for your loss,” He sighed, “I wish humans were like Robots, there are rarely any deaths, just missing data that can be restored. I don’t think I could ever truly understand permanent death.”

“Imagine the people you love and care for, your friends and people you work with and you are having a great time and death is never having that again,” It was an odd way of explaining it but you think it summed it up well enough. Jungkook’s eyes flashed and he nodded seeming to file the information away to review.

You took Jungkook out. it was his first day off and you were going to make it special, dragging him to the movies you tried to find something fairly new that his internet filled head wouldn’t have seen. If Jungkook was all about the law he wouldn’t be watching bootlegs on the dark web.

You pulled him into a romantic comedy, part of it was because you wanted to watch it and another part was for research to see how Jungkook would act. He seemed engaged watching the couple fall in love with their little awkward moments.

There was a scene where the main character and the love interest were locked in a gaze. It made your heart beat quickly, it was such a heavy feeling. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably and you wondered if he felt it.

After the movie the two of you headed to an aquarium and after the aquarium you were heading home when you passed a busker and you started dancing giving them some money and laughing as you swayed to the beat. Dragging Jungkook to dance with you, he seemed a little nervous but you were quick to praise him. His eyes locked on the Robot with a shirt that read ‘hope world’ dancing and he analysed the moves joining in. 

The two of you headed home and you ordered yourself some dinner. The two of you sat down while he drank and you talked about the movie. “Why did it get slow when the two of them locked eyes?” Jungkook asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room you had wanted to bring up. 

“Well when you fall in love with someone it's like your heart speeds up but everything stops working and all you can think about is that someone.” You said he processed it, eyes flashing, it was like neither of you wanted to go to bed. You had started watching ‘Circuit Chef’ the host was hilarious and he had a new sidekick who really livened up the show.

“I didn’t know robots could do other things” Jungkook said “I just assumed we were all the same, but after reading your book and looking around I can see robots have many functions, but why can’t we have all of them? Humans can do anything they want but us Robots are only programmed to do such a small portion.”

“I want to be human, I want to do everything, try everything” he sighed, “Now that I am off duty I can’t even uphold the law or I will get in trouble, I am just a basic command robot.”

“Then I command you to try everything you ever wanted to do, act like a human.” Yawning, Jungkook looked at you, seeing how your eyes were closed and your head had fallen onto his shoulder. He thought you were asleep, he scooped you up and your eyes opened. 

“I am sorry I thought you were asleep,” He apologized but continued walking you to the bed, he laid you down tucking you in. Jungkook paused for a moment searching for something in your expression, a flash in his eyes and he stood straight up and scrambled looking at his forearm, “I have to go charge.”

You couldn’t be sure if you dreamt it but for a moment there you thought maybe he was going to kiss you, whatever it was you had fallen asleep before you could dwell on it further. 

~

The next day you woke to a delicious smell in the kitchen and when you stepped out Jungkook had made a range of meals and when he saw you he smiled brightly. “Look what I made, I can cook like Circuit chef Kim Seokjin.”

“That’s really good, did you cook everything in the house.” You sat down eating some of the dishes and grinning. “Wow, kookie this is tasty.”

“What did you call me?” He asked, pausing in the middle of mixing some batter. The frilly apron he was wearing looked cute on him. 

“I called you Kookie, it’s a nickname,” looking at all the food you frowned, “Kookie, you have to put the food into dishes and pack it away in the fridge and freezer for me to eat over the next year.”

“That is a joke,” He pointed at you and chuckled, “I have been learning about jokes from Robot Hyung Kim Seokjin,”

“I’m glad you have been having fun?” You grinned at the young man in your kitchen, noticing some flour in his hair, wondering if that would ruin how soft it looked. “Wait, stay still you have flour in your hair?”

“Lean down a little, okay, stay there,” The flour had been wet when it had touched the few affected strands, now it was dry and reminded you of papier-mâché. 

You gently removed it and ran your fingers through his soft tresses trying to dust away any loose strands of flour, or at least that was the excuse you were using. Jungkook didn’t even seem to notice, he sat there bent slightly, his head in front of your face, his eyes looking down. 

You moved his head around and looked at his fringe making sure there was no flour there. “Are you waterproof?”

“Yes,” he grinned, looking you in the eyes you felt your heart skip a beat as you watched his lips form the next words. “I take showers at the station once a week unless told otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“I think you may need to shower when you finish cooking?” You said and went to the bathroom, to get him a towel and everything. Jungkook stepped into the bathroom and began taking off his shirt and you turned away. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked, folding up the shirt and placing it on the bench. 

“Nothing, I will let you shower,” you left, hoping your cheeks hadn’t reddened further. You heard the water running and let out a sigh, he was busy for now. 

The food was better than anything you could make and you were a great cook, so it was hard to admit. It was also hard to pack away when you were running out of Tupperware and fridge space. 

“I am done,” Jungkook called, as you slipped the last container into the fridge.  

“Kookie no more cooking today there is no room” you laughed, pressing the door to the fridge closed with all your strength until finally the door sealed shut. “I need to be able to eat all of this first.”

Turning you saw Jungkook standing with only a towel around his waist, you squealed, slapping your hands over your eyes. “What are you doing, half naked in the living room?”

“I had no more clothes,” He paused “Should I put those clothes back on?”

“No, I will find you some more,” You handed him some more of your fathers clothes and you left the room so he could change, undisturbed. That didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder. 

Jungkook was ripped, his body literally made to perfection, his back was so broad. He was built lean and yet his biceps were the size of your calves. You sat on the couch, closing your eyes and indulging in the sight that you had been blessed with.

You shouldn’t be thirsting over a robot? But it was so hard not too when he looked like he was an actual adonis. You took a few breaths in an attempt to still your beating heart, and opened your phone, you began searching news websites for information of Robots being weird.

Nothing had been posted except an advertisement for an experiment trial with robots designed for personal pleasure. You quickly close that tab not wanting to think about that any further. You had almost given up hope until you saw it.

My Robot is acting weird.

It was a reddit forum and you were quick to jump on and read the stories of robots doing things that they weren’t programmed to do and questioning things. Acting dare you say it? Human. It was a scary thought but you weren’t the only one who thought the same. Someone had said that their robot was developing feelings and emotions and becoming more human per day.

Jungkook exited the room and shuffled nervously. Was he programmed to be a little shy? One would hope not, being a police officer. Maybe this was what they meant on the forum? Or, maybe you were reading too far into it? Yes that had to be it.

You took Jungkook through the town and the two of you stopped by a bar. It was a modern style and super clean, you found a booth and sat down, The waiter was a long legged robot who moved so elegantly and you were lost for a moment in his movements.

“Good evening, can I take your order?” He said his voice soft and sweet like an angel. You felt your ears go warm and you asked for a glass of wine. You were really only here to let Jungkook experience everything he wanted and he did wonder earlier about what it was like to drink at a bar. “And should I get you some oils or coolants sir?”

“No thank you,” Jungkook huffed, turning away, the waiter wilted at the rudeness and nodded leaving the table.

“Jungkook, why were you being so rude?” You asked looking at him and he blanched, you could see he wasn’t happy but you couldn’t figure out why. All you did was order wine from the attractive robot waiter. Wait. Was he jealous? Because you were ogling the waiter?

“I am not being rude, I just don’t want any cheap coolant or oils, I only drink the best” He puffed up his chest and lifted his chin turning away. He was like a petulant child. While waiting for your drink you began writing the outline for your story and sending it to the editor to liaison to the publishing company, seeing if it was worthy to write.

Your drink was bought back and you saw Jungkook bristle again. “Um, I am sorry if I offended you, my name is Jimin and over there is my owner and the love of my life, I wasn’t trying to hit on your girlfriend or anything?”

Jungkook almost visibly relaxed and the two started talking quickly in a series of beeps that made you giggle writing down a few more dot points for your next book. Jimin left with a wave and a thank you toward you both and he went back to the counter. 

You saw him kiss the bartenders cheek and he pouted when the bartender shrugged him off to focus on her work. Jungkook watched the two happily and you stood up, “Excuse me Jungkook, I just want to talk to the bartender, is that okay?”

He nodded as you were walking to the bar when Jimin passed holding glasses of coolant, one for each robot. Sitting at the bar you smiled “Hey, do you mind if I ask some questions about your robot?”

“What do you want to know?” She looked up, handing a drink over to a customer who went and sat down. It was a monday so it was pretty quiet. 

“I was wondering if he has done anything strange, something he isn’t programmed to do or even started developing thoughts, ideas and feelings?” You said, “That robot is a police officer who physically cannot break the law and yet he did it for me, he lied to protect me and not two seconds ago got jealous of your robot, this isn’t normal behaviour, he isn’t programmed for any sort of relationship personality traits.”

“Half a month ago Jimin had a drink thrown at him, he went funny, I had programmed him to be gentle and kind and he shouted and practically threw some people out the bar. I did some maintenance and he told me he wanted to be my robot companion, you know the type?” She gave you a look and you flushed nodding. “After that I found out he was doing his own maintenance and upgrading, he has become so free now, he told me the programs made him feel limited”

“That’s exactly what Jungkook said, he said that he wanted to be human and not just one program, he was a police robot who never had a day off, had no hobbies installed and only worked and slept.” You explained stressing the simplicity of his systems. “Now, he likes to cook and dance and he wants to go see an art exhibition tomorrow and he is getting jealous and nervous, things he has never expressed before”

“That does sound odd,” She hummed “I have been thinking it for a while now and I heard someone may have an explanation but I haven’t had time to find them, perhaps because I am scared of what I am going to hear”

She slipped you a napkin with an address and looked up, “His name is Hitman Bang, he used to create robots and then something happened, that’s all I know?”

You returned home and began writing but not for the story, you started documenting everything you found, experiences and more. You were going to go to the art gallery tomorrow and then afterwards you would go see this mysterious man for information.

~

The next morning you woke early and got dressed, Jungkook was sitting on the couch waiting for you and he smiled face lighting up when he noticed you walk in. Giving a soft meow, your cat had lifted its head from his lap.

“Good morning,” The greeting was laced with excitement, you felt like you were on the edge of a discovery and you wanted to see it through until the end. The two of you were ready to see the art exhibition, it was from a university and there were many entrants who submitted their work.

Buying tickets at the door, Jungkook frowned, “In movies the man usually pays for things?” You turned to him a little shocked and also a little amused.

“Back in the day it was the man who earned money and the woman was locked up inside their house to do nothing but cook clean and have children. So men paid for everything.” You spoke softly, “Then women were allowed to work and vote but they were paid less than men and nowadays that still sometimes happens but in some places it is equal wage and that means I can buy things myself.”

“Oh,” He processed the information and searched a few things in his head, “This seems like something discussed a lot online, I am glad I have seen this side of things. I would like to thank you for using your money on me, I wish I had money so that I could pay for my own things as well”

“You don’t get paid!” You were outraged, he worked everyday of the year since he was manufactured and they didn’t pay him, didn’t let him enjoy anything fun. “Jungkook what is your birthday?” 

“I wasn’t born, I am a robot,” the word robot almost sounded bitter. “I was manufactured on the first of September”

“That was a few months ago, I am sorry I missed it, have you ever had a birthday party or gotten any gifts?” He stopped for a moment before he had completed his research online and turned back to you shaking his head. “Alright well I know it’s late but I will give you one birthday wish, you can ask for anything you want?”

The two of you finally reached the inside of the gallery past the lobby and Jungkook’s eyes met a code on the door that had information from the artists of each piece and their inspiration. He walked through and began explaining it all to you and it made you smile. Linking your arm with his, you laid your head on his shoulder and continued walking slowly.

He stopped, looking at the painting and he was frozen examining it. “This is beautiful.” He whispered, you looked at the painting it didn’t seem like much, just random overlapping shapes in strange colours. “It was painted by a robot named Taehyung, he says he fell in love with painting after a young woman taught him how. The next part is written in binary code but I can translate it. 

“My hair shows my basic emotions but this is a painting representing my love for the woman who taught me how to paint. When she kisses me it feels like my engines will explode. My system has a folder of her and everyday I file away new information.” He touched his chest and turned to you. The two of you walked to the address on the napkin, each stride ate the city ground away and you were in some less populated suburban streets. 

You passed a small advertisement of a woman kissing a man holding a bouquet of flowers, it was for a florist and Jungkook stopped underneath it. Taking his bicep in your hand you tried to offer him comfort without swooning over the size of his biceps. “Jungkook is everything okay?”

“Do you know how you said I had a birthday wish,” Jungkook looked at you, “I think I know what I want to try?”

“Okay, what do you want to try?” He leaned down and kissed you. It was awkward at first the way he was bent and just pressing his lips to yours but, he seemed to jolt, his engines beeping and his auto air compression units hissed to life. 

Jungkook’s hand cupped the back of your head and he tilted his head the opposite way and deepened the kiss naturally. He pulled away looking panicked and he ran off. You were frozen unsure if you should follow him or not, but you decide he is pretty good and knows how to fight and protect himself.

Ringing the doorbell a voice came over the intercom, “Name and business?” the voice stated. It sounded like a tired but refined man and you were a little nervous. The house though in an average neighborhood was quite posh.

“My name is Y/n and I was told you might have information as to why my robot is acting weird?” Your voice cracked giving away your nerves and he sighed the gate buzzing open. 

“Come in.”

Walking briskly to the front door you felt dwarfed by the sheer size of the house, it was almost laughable the grandeur design and the ostentatious presence it gave. The door was opened electronically and you moved inside taking off your shoes. “Good afternoon, my name is Hitman Bang, what is it you want to know?”

“I am in possession of a Police officer robot who has no other programs features or hobbies only his police programing, he has developed hobbies and interests without upgrades or downloads and he um, just kissed me and ran away outside the florist down the road?”

“I see,” He hummed leaning forward, “Let me tell you a story,”

He began telling you about a robot he programmed. “It was while I was working at Spark’s industry. His name was Lee-Hyun. He was the first love companion robot that was made, he was perfect and could be tailored to anyone's desires. He fell in love with a researcher that worked there, her name was Dae. He found out Dae was getting married and caught her and her fiance kissing. He rampaged and killed them both. He was inconsolable and had to be shut down.”

“You looked shocked, not every robot is like this, his feelings just manifested so strong due to the environment and seeing her with anyone else made him so angry. When we checked the records before he was shut down he uploaded a virus, something small that started affecting the bots and we got the virus under control and I quit, unable to work there anymore.”

“So this virus?” You asked, “does it make them feel real emotions like a human?”

“Yes, it will give them the emotional capacity and empathy of a human, they will love and hate and become curious” He ran his hand over his face, the only thing that worries me is if this virus leaks out what might happen, they will have emotions but they will have no teachers their understanding of right and wrong will no longer be objective, they will be influenced by their feelings not knowing how to control such strong emotions. The robots acting on impulse could get people hurt.”

~

You headed home wondering if you should tell Jungkook what you had learnt, the more you sat the more you seemed to stew over the words. It was true as humans you are taught how to control your emotions but for robots they were not they had no teachers. Perhaps, you could be his teacher.

“Jungkook I have something I need to tell you,” you called stepping into the apartment, you were met with a chilling sight. Jungkook wasn’t there and your cat was hiding in her tower but two men stood in your living room waiting. 

“Good evening,” They smiled, it wasn’t pleasant or reassuring. It was a nasty smile, “we won’t hurt you, we just want to get some information, if you cooperate we won’t have to use force.”

“We believe you have something of ours, some money and we would like you to come with us. leave your phone here” The other spoke, you nodded, walking to the table and placing your bag down, and your keys, your phone was still in your back pocket.

“May I feed my cat before we go, I assume I won’t be back for a while” They nodded, you headed to the pantry and bent down grabbing the bag of cat food, quickly sending a message to Jungkook. 

There are people in my house with guns. It was read instantly.

You stood back up grabbing a cup and filling the water bowl with water before placing the cup in the sink and the scoop back into the cupboard. In the safety of the cupboard you tried checking your phone once more when it beeped. You swore as you were grabbed by the hair and thrown onto the ground, the phone taken from your hands.

“Who are you messaging?” They asked, guns drawn.“Who is Kookie?”

“My robot companion,” you blushed

“Look lady, your robot isn’t going to help you, now get up” The pulled you up off the floor and dragged you to the door and to the elevator where you stopped. The elevator ride was awkward and when the doors opened there were police at the door guns drawn. 

You sighed with relief and Jungkook hugged the two gunmen getting arrested, “I thought you were going to die. I drove here and broke so many road rules. I jaywalked.” You laughed eyes watering, the elevator doors shut around you two and you didn’t move to fix it. “I thought you were going to die. All I could think of was us having such a wonderful time together and never having that again. It was like my heart sped up but everything stopped working and you were the only thing I cared about.”

He kissed you and you kissed back the adrenaline wearing off and your legs went weak. He caught you as the doors opened once more and the officers climbed in. They were going to your apartment to ask you a few questions.

Jungkook said he would stay the night and watch over you and you were grateful he didn’t run away again.

~

It was the end of the month and Jungkook was called back to the station he was being picked up to get maintenance but instead when he arrived with you nervous in tow he met the sergeant and asked to resign.

“I think my judgement has been compromised and I would like to be taken off the police force” He requested, the sergeant looked like he was in shock. “I do not wish to be upgraded or to continue working in the police force. I hope my replacement is a new model with fewer issues. I forfeit all my rights to the police database as I hand you my resignation”

“I cannot deny you the right to resign, even if I don’t understand it.” The sergeant sighed, “get out of here, I have a replacement to order”

Tags: @moccahobi​​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​​ @knjkitten​​ @black-rose-29​​ @jooniesdimples70307

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[ripspaghet]

VIVID BLUE | MOODBOARD

→ pairing: alien!jimin x human!reader

→ genre/warnings: sci-fi, angst, violence, weaponry, villain!namjoon, villain!yoongi, fluff, love triangle, forbidden love, arranged marriage, eventual smut

Prologue Summary; Perhaps, it was the icy moon reflecting and dancing across the shadowed features that made him appear like glass. Or maybe it was his cold demeanor that purposely mimicked the crystallized substance, but either way, you couldn't help the way your heart stuttered at the sight.

"Not another step." Cold metal pressed into your temple as a dozen additional firearms aim in your direction. Your body visibly tenses, the cold rain beginning to feel like sharp needles on your bare skin. 

You hadn't even seen them move.

A smirk pulls up the silver-eyed Ibrin's lips as he sizes you up, "Deal."

The wind picks up, blowing in every direction, whipping at your exposed skin. Everyone but your father froze at the sound of his voice. The simple words echo off his lips into a strange, but intoxicating whisper.

"Wonderful!" Your father gushes, smiling like a pig that's just been served for the hundredth time in one day, "I knew we'd be able to agree."

“Your Highness,” The Ibrin holding his gun to your head speaks again, but this time in an annoyed tone, rather than a violent one he'd used with you.

"I'll accept her." The prince's grin ripens, enchanting eyes capturing you.

"She-" 

Making a downward motion with two fingers the alien prince clicks his tongue, tilting his head, and silencing his subordinate, "Lower your weapons and take her onto the ship."

The men enclosing you lower their weapons instantly, that is, all except for one. You remain frozen before him. He scowls, his gun still pressed to your temple. He wore similar armor as the others, but in comparison, he radiates a superiority similar to the prince. 

"Prince Park, your mother said specifically that you-" 

"Jeon, is that any way you should behave toward your future bride?" Prince Park's tone is sharp, despite his smile. It's evident he's aggravated by the hostility hanging in the air. Nevertheless, your eyes linger, fastened to who'd been called Jeon, as he eyes you with opalescent green eyes. Come to thing of it - they all have opalescent eye, just different colors.

Wait...future what?

Jeon clenches his jaw, lowering his weapon reluctantly and moving towards you. Instinctively, you slide a foot back, getting prepared to flee or attack if need be, but the movement merely solidifies his glare and with the blink of an eye he's behind you, strong hand around your forearm. 

"She doesn't appear keen on leaving with us, my Prince."

"Ah, but don't you love a decent challenge?" The Prince's voice is like velvet, but you force yourself to ignore him, picking your foot up and slamming the heel down onto the foot of the man pulling you along.

"Ah! What the-!" He let you go momentarily, his hands shooting for his now aching foot. Your certain weapons are aimed at your head again, so you act accordingly, veering around to leap for another rooftop. 

"Curious," An arm drapes around your waist lightly, hot breath brushing against the frigid skin of your neck, "the gravity must be heavier on this planet."

You flinch, nearly yelping when your eyes catch up with the unexpected movements that have put the Prince's face mere inches away from your own, an arm holding your waist in place. 

He was at least six feet away from you. How? 

"What's your name?" His eerily serene eyes paint into a simmering gold as he tilts his head, silver hair, that you hadn't paid enough attention to before, tumbles across his forehead. An aroma of sweet and sour fruits engulfs you and your muscles almost fall limp.

The Prince's features alter with a tinge of awe at your reaction towards him and he places his hand to your cheek, "What a fascinating creature you are."

His hand is snatched off your skin, prompting you to flinch at the erratic motion, “I'll take care of her, Jimin.”

You turn to see the green-eyed Ibrin from before mere inches from the Prince's face, eyeing him with an expected animosity just before he jerks his hand back, “Very well, Jungkook.”

Jungkook grabs you again, this time more firmly as he pulls you onto the ship, "Behave now human, or so help me I'll throw you into the vacuum of space before we reach Koir."

Click here for Vivid Blue M.list

[worldwidebt7]

Sneak Peek: Hell[L]ing pt. 3

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Rating: M

§ — Warnings: Non-fluffy hybrid Taehyung, who can get pretty Yandere, so there’s some scenes of violent death, and some pretty crazy smut scenes, I don’t know, just… read at your own risk, I guess?

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

Chapter 3 Excerpt

“You’re Seokjin’s roommate, right? It’s nice to meet you…” You kept your voice as steady and pleasant as you could. He continued to scrutinize you, and you continued to try and hone in on what his intentions were, still only catching the small blips of hostility and distress at first until you saw his shoulders relax fractionally and you caught the smallest spark of the gentle caution you had earlier.

“Who’s Seokjin?” You heard Namjoon whisper to you, causing another aggressive spike in the air. This time, your head throbbed as well; an oncoming migraine more than likely caused by how hard you were trying to focus on your mysterious neighbor. You winced slightly, looking at Namjoon and withdrawing your abilities as much as you could.

“He’s—”

“KIM TAEHYUNG!” Speak of the Devil, and so shall he appear. All three of you snapped your head in the direction of the voice that you vaguely recognized as your new neighbor. You saw him before you sensed him, and usually feelings began faint and grew stronger as they neared you. However, when he entered the radius in which your abilities were effective, you were blind-sided by the power of his emotions. Anger, fear— panic, panic, panic. Always with the panic with this man; was he always going to be this intense? At least now his face matched his emotions. Breath knocked from your lungs, you nearly doubled over by the force and you immediately became overwhelmed, only finding little relief in your editor’s voice giving you something different to focus on.

“Seokjin?” He asked you, to which you nodded. The scattered throbbing in your head became a cutting pain, one that had you shying away from the sunlight and gritting your teeth. You felt a wave of concern come from Namjoon at your sudden change in behavior and your sent him a tight smile in return to reassure him.

“Yeah, he just moved into the house up the lake…” Namjoon nodded, taking in this information, and you both turned to readdress the other men before you. Seokjin had made his way to his roommate’s side quickly, clearly out of breath from his fast pace, and you expected the black-haired boy to be looking at the purple-haired man. Except, he wasn’t; his gaze bore into your own as you made eye-contact and you froze, unable to look away. His eyes were onyx, so dark that you couldn’t see his pupils, and completely bottomless, as if they were a gate to the deepest part of the universe.

[aredheadedmess]

To Jupiter and Back || PJM

Summary: Reaching the stars seemed almost impossible, but you worked till you could be there next to them.

Paring: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Sci-Fi, Fluff

Rating: PG

Warnings: None.

Notes: This is from the prompt list for ‘Bangtober’ on twitter! This is to all those who wanted to be an astronaut when they grew up.

Bangtober Masterlist

This was the moment you’ve waited for your whole life. Seeing planets and stars in their glory, passing by them at just under the speed of light. Of course, people told you it was nearly impossible to be one of two people who got to go into space. Though, that’s all you heard growing up.

The one question kids are always asked is what they want to be when they grow up. There are some who wish for magical things; a vampire, a mermaid, a princess. Other’s had a more realistic goal; doctors, scientists. But there were always that group of kids who wanted to be an astronaut. That was the category you fell under. Your whole childhood, people overlooked your ambition to be an astronaut. They deemed it as ‘something that every kid wants but no one actually goes into it’. You ignored their words. They didn’t see your pure desire for the field, and that was okay with you.

For your birthday, you would ask for books about astronomy. You would go to the library and delve into the world of outer space, reading through all the mysteries and theories about the worlds beyond your own. You took astronomy classes in grade school, joining the student made clubs the schools offered.

Throughout your college years, you worked on making your way through the astronomy major. You volunteered—and some, worked for pay—at planetariums, museums, any place that could help you reach your goal to become an astronomer. For seven years, you worked on your masters degree as well as worked within the space exploration programs. You constantly checked for the opportunity to be in space.

There were times that you wanted to give up, yes, but every person deals with that. With the knowledge you had, you could have easily gone into another science. But your parents and friends pushed you to keep going. They supported you as much as they could. With their help, you got back on track to be the person you always wanted to become.

Two years after you completed the requirements to become an astronaut, your opportunity arose. Astronomers were looking for two candidates to be sent out to space for several years. The hope was to explore the solar system, collecting as much data to help astronomers understand the universe a little more. Those that wanted to take the opportunity would run through a series of tests. It would take at least a year to find the two candidates, but you were ready.

You trained as much as you could through the tests. You pushed yourself to the limit, pushing past that every once in a while to show your potential to those that were going to decide. It took just over a year and a half until they decided who they were to send. Although you knew you didn’t work as hard as you could, you were still surprised to hear that you were one of the candidates. The moment you knew, you called your family and friends to share the news. They were as excited as you.

The dream you had as a kid finally came true.

You got to know the other candidate the day after you were informed. You were shocked to find out that the other was a male. There was nothing wrong with that of course, but you thought that you would be paired with another female. Jimin was his name. He seemed to be one of the sweetest people you knew, ecstatic to be sent out into space alongside someone.

“Y/N, I’m turning off the gravity.”

You turn to face Jimin. He stands near the shut off for the ship’s artificial gravity, ready to input the command. You quickly head to your seat to hold on to it as you shift to zero gravity. Jimin looks at you to make sure you're ready before he switches it off, grasping at the sides of the panel to keep him from slamming against the wall in transition.

“Shutting off in three, two…”

You feel yourself become lighter. Your hair floats up slightly, relieving your scalp a little. The pressure you felt on your lower back is now mostly gone as your spine is no longer being forced down by the artificial gravity.

You look over to Jimin, who now is spinning himself in the air. You laugh at his grinning face.

“Man, this never gets old.”

You agree with him. No matter how many times you’ve done this in the past three years, the exhilarating feeling you get when shutting off the gravity will always make you happy.

Jimin’s smile makes your heart beat a little faster. You can’t deny that you have feelings for your crewmate. But is it genuine or is it because it gets lonely in space and he is the only other human being around?

You push those thoughts aside, suppressing the idea of having a romantic relationship with your crewmate. There are too many things that you have to worry about. Does he like you back? Would being in a relationship complicate things when trying to continue the mission? What would control say if you told them the two of you are together?

“You comin?”

“Huh?”

Jimin chuckled. He must have said something and you weren’t paying attention. Heat rises to your face as he looks at you funnily.

“Wow, you really spaced out there.” You rolled his eyes at his pun. “I was saying that I’m going to go eat. You wanna come?”

You nod your head at the idea of food. Floating behind Jimin, you follow him to the small kitchen area of the shuttle. He pushes himself off the wall, grasping onto one of the compartment handles. He opens it, digging through until he finds what he is craving. You join him, floating on the other side of the compartment, watching as he digs through to find something you wanted as well.

A chicken is thrusted at you. You look up from the rest of the food to see Jimin sheepishly looking towards the compartment, still searching for the food he’ll eat.

“I noticed you didn’t have much to eat earlier. Take it.”

You hesitate. Jimin notices and lets go of the compartment to flip your hand over himself. He carefully places the packaged meat in your hand, closing your fingers around it as much as they could.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He smiles lightly, returning back to digging through the compartment.

Europa. A moon of Jupiter containing a hidden ocean under its icy surface. It is about the same size as Earth’s moon. This was one of the most interesting objects in space to younger—and older—you, and now that you can see it out the main window of the shuttle, you are ecstatic. The grey-ish orb stands bright against the dimmer star-ridden universe. The way the sun is reflected off of its surface makes the moon look like it’s shimmering. It is a beautiful sight.

Jimin gazes at you as you stare at the moon. His soft smile accompanies the gentle look he gives you. You watch as the object steadily grows larger.

This is one of your many missions. You are to orbit Europa, study it as much as you can, and get close enough to obtain any samples of its surface or the possible plumes of water erupting from below. The possibility of life hiding underneath the thick ice crust of the moon could change your whole perspective of the solar system and the universe.

“Y/N, are you ready?” Jimin questioned.

“More than ready. What if we actually find some kind of life? I mean, it’s fine if we don’t, but that’s like an extra cool thing we could find!”

Jimin chuckles at your outburst. You have done that a few times in the few years he has known you. You easily got excited for some of the most interesting things. Maybe that’s why you were one of the ones chosen to explore the solar system. No matter, Jimin loves the way your eyes light up when you go on your rants. The sparkle in your eyes makes his own heart dance in his chest.

“Well we should be there in the next few hours. Let’s get ready to collect samples,” Jimin laughs.

You hum, nodding your head and following him out of the flight deck.

The time passes by fast—and you kind of wish it hadn’t. As you and Jimin prepare the collecting bay, the two of you joke around about anything and everything. Although cliche, you pass around space puns, laughing until your stomach hurts.

The beeping of the main system alerts you of the approaching object. It disrupts the light air between you and Jimin as you both switch to more serious attitudes. You rush to the flight deck, ready to slow the shuttle’s speed. Jimin stays in the bay ready to grab whatever he can. You slightly change the course you were taking to orbit the moon.

“Flight to Collecting. Jimin, can you hear me?”

The static of the shuttle’s radio follows your call. There is a noticeable change in pitch of the noise right before you hear Jimin’s voice break through.

“Collecting to Flight. I can hear you clear, Y/N.”

“Perfect,” you start. “We are set for orbit. There is a layer of vapor, I will try to get closer to it.”

You don’t receive anything back. Jimin busies himself, sending input commands to the shuttle’s collecting pod. You push the shuttle closer until you hear the familiar whizzing of the collection machinery.

“Collecting samples of vapor.”

Once the orbit is set, you leave the flight deck. You traverse back to the collecting bay to meet Jimin. He is focused on finishing the first retrieval of samples. You find his focused gaze endearing. His tongue sticks out from his lips, brows furrowed in concentration, and his fast fingers type away commands on the board. This is the side of him you love to watch.

“Did you get it?”

Jimin jumps, slamming one hand against his chest while the other clutches onto the control panel. His eyebrows jump up on his forehead and his eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets.

“Geez, you scared me.”

You giggle.

“You’re quiet, you know that?”

You don’t answer him, only smile. You step towards him. He flips back around, slightly embarrassed by your scare, and inputs the right commands to send the samples into the bay. You hear the hissing of the machinery as it lifts the samples in the compartment near the control panel. The door pops open and pushes small closed petri dishes on a tray out into the open area. You reach to grab the few dishes only to bump hands with the boy next to you.

“Oop, sorry.”

The both of you split the petri dishes, carrying them together to the microscope. You set one of them on the stage and find the right focus. You stare into the eyepiece, watching for anything you could report on. A slight movement at the edge of the dish catches your eye. You motion for Jimin to switch out the dish for another. The process happens until you’ve seen every dish. You squirm in your spot before turning to Jimin. You pull him to look into the microscope himself to show him what you see.

“Oh my- Y/N, we found life.” He turns to you. “We found life!”

He takes your face in his hands and smashes his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise for a second before you’re melting into his kiss. You hold onto his shoulders for support. He moves his lips against yours for a moment more. Pulling back from you, he erupts in a bright red blush.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. It kinda just ha-”

You pull his face into yours again, shutting him up with another kiss.

“Shut up,” you mumble against his lips.

He doesn’t hesitate to return your kiss, grabbing your waist and tugging you against his body. You kiss until your lungs can’t take it any longer. Though when you pull away for air, he keeps you close, foreheads pressed together. His smile is answer enough to tell you how he feels about you.

“Let’s tell control about this later. I just wanna kiss you more right now.”

You giggle, letting him bring you into another kiss.

[unclassifiedsenpai]

A Detailed Explorers Guide to the Unknown

A yoonmin sci-fi space!au

Updating after a long time, thought I'd promote a little with a moodboard~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972623/chapters/24430431

[chimcess]

Pitch Black || jjk (Prologue)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A long time between stops, indeed.

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

[indecisivebias]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga Characters: Kim Taehyung | V, Min Yoongi | Suga, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster Additional Tags: Bounty Hunter Yoongi, Lounge Singer Taehyung, Bartender Jimin, Strangers to Lovers, space travel, Gratuitous Consumption of Shirley Temples, Crying, Pianos, Alternate Universe - Space, Blood, Brief Descriptions of Violence/Injury, Falling In Love, Based Loosely On Elements From Cowboy Bebop, And The Fact That Stigma Was Literally Made To Be Sung In A Lounge Summary:

Yoongi’s hands stutter on the keys when Taehyung finally looks at him, pink in the ears and full of life. And it’s stupid, Yoongi thinks, to be doing this when he’s only going to be gone tomorrow, to be doing this when Yoongi already knows all of the things he can’t have, standing here in front of him with pretty eyes and a frantically beating heart.

Taehyung looks at Yoongi and thinks about his hands on the piano and the idea of his hands on Taehyung, thinks about how nice that would be, just to be touched by him, even only once.

[sabrinareadsbts]

220216 SMUT LIBRARY

Welcome to my little smutty library. (18+)

🔥=smut, 💕=fluff, 🌪️=angst, 🌟=personal favorite, ✅=completed series

Shelved fic recs here. 

These are sorted from OT7/multiple members, Jin, Yoongi, J-hope, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook divided by one shots and series. 

YOONGI

one shots

Listen closely by @avveh​  🔥💕

coworkers!au, you find a video on a USB stick and you get interested... this is voyeurism, masturbation, breath play and just overall hot smut... whew. I need a minute.

There’s more down here...

J-HOPE

one shots

risky business by @yoonjinkooked  🔥

office!au, secretary!Hobi, dom!Hobi, rough sex, kinda public sex, dirty talk, degradation

NAMJOON

house rules by @noteguk 🔥

room mates, dom!Hobi, sub!reader, rough sex all set into motion because y/n found a spider in her wardrobe and it didn’t sit well with Hobi... yeah. 

one shots

JUNGKOOK

laundry day by @snackhobi​  🔥 💕 🌟

neighbor!Namjoon, big dick!Joonie, he makes y/n orgasm and orgasm, y/n masturbates, manhandling

one shots

Gravity Check by @gimmesumsuga  🔥

climbing instructor!Jungkook, reader is older, Jungkook is also very shy at first but he goes hard 

please, noona by @sombreboy  🔥💕

switch!Jungkook, domme!reader, oral, penetration, dirty talk

May 31 by @jeonjeonggukenergy  🔥💕 🌟

roommate!Jungkook, one bed trope, college!au, friends to lovers, this is so cute and hot :(

Sneaky Link by @breakiebunny  🔥

bodyguard!Jungkook, ceo!reader, dom!Jungkook, brat!reader, degradation, smut, possessiveness

Boredom, Disinterest, & Intimidation. by @likeastarstar  🔥

Idol!Jungkook, Jungkook in *that* striped LV-suit, sex in a fancy public restroom, you meet Jungkook at a business dinner

your every wish is my command by @jeonggukingdom  🔥 💕 🌟

genie!Jungkook, reader is sexually frustrated, kinda college!au, switch!Jungkook, switch!reader, fluff, smut smut smut

twitch by @hansolmates  🔥

Android!Jungkook, scifi!au, voyeurism, he is just watching, you’re in his thoughts about him watching the reader with her vibrator. It is hot!

A Bottle of Wine with Jungkook by @jungkookah-lover  🔥 💕

idol!Jungkook, acquaintances to lovers, pet names, smut

Perfectly, Us. by @scribblemetae  🔥💕(tiny angst)

established relationship, Valentine’s day fic, fluff smut, a lot of talking, lingerie, he just loves her very much, this is so hot and cute

series

Friends to lovers series by @ddaengyoonmin​  🔥💕

Swimmer!Jungkook, swimmer!reader, friends to lovers, there’s a lot of water and it’s really hot and cute

Thank you, baby by @scribblemetae  🔥 🌪️

yandere, Jungkook is a stalker, it’s problematic but because it’s fiction and he’s the hottest human alive right now, it is hot, okay? I don’t make the rules. Jungkook is whiny, he worships the reader, smut smut smut, begging, so much begging, dirty talk, emotional rollercoaster but so good and hot.. ok go and read it. 

Read my review after part 7.

[ichorai]

GALVANO ; series masterlist.

pairing ; winter soldier!kim taehyung x hero!reader (gender-neutral), slight black widow!yeri x reader

themes ; marvel au, superhero au, winter soldier au, 40s au, assassin au, alien au, scifi, action, romance, angst, fluff, slowburn, drama, hurt comfort

wc ; 115.4k

cast ; kim taehyung as bucky barnes, jeon jungkook as steve rogers, kim namjoon as tony/howard stark, min yoongi as nick fury, park jimin as sam wilson, jung hoseok as bruce banner, kim seokjin as james rhodes, kim yeri as natasha romanoff, bae irene as peggy carter, son wendy as pepper potts, park joy as wanda maximoff, choi soobin as peter parker, shin ryujin as carol danvers !!

a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu! individual warnings included for each chapter <3

a/n ; i sincerely apologize if there’s any mistakes in this x__x it was originally a bucky fic and it’s hard to comb through 100k words and change up the minuscule details so go easy on me :(

main masterlist. series playlist. bucky barnes version. 

chapter one ; the first war. (19.3k) falling in love with kim taehyung was surely a pleasant surprise, but never had you imagined your tiny friend, jungkook, to become the world’s first superhero.

chapter two ; the tesseract. (16.7k) waking up after seventy years of being frozen in ice proved to be every bit as awful as it sounded. you lost everything you once knew, thrown headfirst into a storm of villanous gods, aliens, and a shitload of trama.

chapter three ; the soldier (16.5k) adjusting to modern times surely wasn’t an easy feat, but what could possibly go wrong if you throw in the added weight of betrayal, dying directors, and a soldier that had the same stormy eyes as your lover from seventy years ago?

chapter four ; the fissure. (22.0k) a split in the avengers leaves you struggling to find a stance. but when taehyung comes back into the picture, nothing else really seemed to matter.

chapter five ; the dusting. (11.3k) you find home in wakanda with taehyung. but nothing good ever lasts, does it?

chapter six ; the time heist. (27.7k) after thanos wiped half of the universe’s population, you’re left with nothing but grief. when an opportunity to fix everything arises, the avengers unite again to end things once and for all.

drabbles.

illusionism (1.9k) a snippet of director min’s backstory.

[youarejesting]

Daylight

[Full Masterlist]

Beta: @fluffy-fluffu @taegularities @xiaokoo​ (if I forgot someone let me know, some people were in anon) Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Fluff, fantasy, adventure, angst, scifi, Romance, mystery,  Words: 12.6K

Summary: When trying to find a place to sleep the reader finds an elevator that only goes down. When it reaches the bottom, the reader is met with a new world and new civilization. Have you found somewhere you belong or are you in over your head.

You were looking for a place to sleep. The train station had two areas: the new and improved station on the ground level and the old and abandoned level underground. The underground level was blocked off, but you needed somewhere to sleep. No amount of graffiti, rats or even kids with cans of spray paint could stop you. 

You slipped past the fence and headed down the stairs until you reached the old abandoned floor below. You could hear every footstep that echoed. With the limited light from the platform at the top of the stairs you could only make out outlines of pillars and benches. You would turn on a light but that would give your position away. 

While finding the edge of the platform you almost fell onto the tracks. Jumping down, you followed the wall till you reached the little maintenance rooms at the end of the long almost pitch black tunnel. You were hoping you could find one with either a power socket for your phone or a built-in phone to call out. Though who would you call? You were homeless, meaning you had exerted all other options and lost the ‘friends’ you thought you had.

Hand colliding with a doorknob -that would leave a bruise- you stepped inside and waited. Hoping you were alone but not able to guarantee, you had to work up the courage to turn on a light. 

Deciding to flip the light switch, you gave yourself a mental pep talk. After all, if you were to die anyway it wouldn’t matter if you exposed yourself to hidden demons, devils, ghosts, murderers, or crazies.

The place was empty and small. You saw an old-style computer, the type that’s all bulky and awkward in shape. The huge monitor had an ugly keyboard built in and a long wire leading to the mouse. What, was this built in the eighties? You assumed the motherboard was underneath as such.  

Turning on the light, you looked around intrigued - this place was clean, like seriously clean. This platform and train line had all been abandoned, so who was coming here to clean it? Even if it was a maintenance room, it was odd, and everything inside was old which made sense, except the elevator in the corner. 

The elevator gave many red flags: the fact there was only a down function, and the fact it seemed to be clean like the rest of the room somehow made it worse. You walked over and found a clipboard on the desk; eyeing the bin beside the desk, you noticed the empty can of coke. 

Someone signed off on maintenance just yesterday. Again, who was performing maintenance on an abandoned rail line? Especially on the vintage equipment. Turning to face the elevator, the proverbial curious cat inside you clawed at the thought of where the elevator would take you. Could it be another floor, a secret base, some machinery storage or perhaps, you thought morbidly, hell? 

Taking the chance, you pressed the call button for the elevator. The doors slid open, lights flickering on overhead and you heard the bell chime to indicate the elevator had reached. Stepping inside nothing seemed off at first glance. Pressing the down button, you waited as the elevator descended. It all seemed normal.That was until an entire floor length passed. 

You grew worried, you had been descending further than you anticipated.

The elevator continued on its journey downwards while you sat on the floor, now worried about what you would come across in the end. You had noticed the government symbol on the floor of the elevator and that made everything even more suspicious. But a part of you was happy you had somewhere safe -albeit cold- to sleep, even if it was an elevator.

When the elevator finally stopped, you saw twinkling lights in the sky which were lightening to a peachy color. It was like you were outside, but that was impossible. You had gone underground, you know you did, and even if you had somehow gone up, you would be on the city streets outside the train station, not in some beautiful parkland.

You stood there in awe, watching the sunrise, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scenery. Something you didn’t do quite often. You had been locked up in the safe confines of your room for a long time and it took being homeless to really appreciate nature and things it had to offer, like the rising sun. The air was refreshing and the sounds of the animals were mingling with the constant from the river in a calming harmony. 

You heard a sound and whipped around to look for the cause, when you heard a gasp. 

“Are you the Almighty?” 

Your heart hammered in your chest. The only thing you noticed was how sweet the voice was. Why was someone down here? This was getting weird, something was going on and you were scared to find out what it was.

Your eyes darted around trying to find the person down there with you when you finally saw him. In front of you stood the most beautiful person you had ever seen, ethereal and perfect. You knew you were pretty good looking, but your recent lack of home meant you weren’t as clean as you wished to be.

As you examined him further, you noticed little things like how his long brown hair was tied intricately with ribboned fastens, and peaking through the hair were two pointed ears. It was odd but the more you looked at him, the more you realized how inhuman he really looked.

He seemed to be looking at you the same way, studying your shorter stature and lack of pointed ears with a curious look on his face. You had seen elves before, in movies, the Christmas type and the fairytale kind, and you had to admit Legolas had nothing on this man.

His dark eyes sparkled bright like the stars as they examined you, “Hello, do you understand me?” His voice was so eerily soft, it caused you to shrink. He smiled at your reaction before speaking softly, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Where am I?” You asked this time, causing him to look shocked. His smile became wider, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“You do understand me.” He stepped forward, making you cower back at his advances. “What is it like in the heavens? Is this your vessel?” 

He grinned looking around you and at the elevator, smiling and tapping at it, “You must come back to the village and we will hold a celebration.”

He took your arm and led you through the trees. He didn’t seem to be rushed nor did he feel threatening in any wayHe just gently guided you along, asking you questions. He didn’t really give you time to answer before he started talking again. 

“Tell me, are you one of the Almighty? I have never met an Almighty before, we pray to them and they give us gifts from the heavens. I have only met elves and that is it. What is your name?” He turned and just as you were about to answer he continued, “My name is Jimin.”

The whole trip you learned a lot about Jimin, he was excitable, he liked to talk, listen when needed and he also liked dancing and being mischievous. He said the other elves ignored him because he wasn’t noble or rich. He wasn’t as well-bred as the others.

“You are so tiny, Yoongi will be happy, he is the shortest Elf you will ever meet. Well, I assume elves, where you are from, are quite tall.” He laughed.

“Um, I have never met an elf before,” you plucked up the courage to admit and his eyes turned to youIt was apparent that he was shocked. “Sorry.”

“So, Elves don’t exist where you are from?” He asked, watching you nervously shake your head. “That is so strange.”

As you continued walking, the sun rose some more and you began to notice a few more things that shocked you. You had realized the whole place was an artificial world. It seemed to go on for a fairway, you could just see walls of vines and greenery, but there were lights that simulated artificial daylight. 

The roof had screens showing a fake sky - there must have been UV lights as the trees and vegetation seemed to be growing well. Then, of course, there was the elevator shaft you had been in before: the further you walked along the road, the more animals, buildings and people you had seen. 

They turned to you, gawking at your differences and style of dress. To them, you must have appeared like a filthy child dressed in rags. To you, they were a beautiful community draped in the finest of fabrics. They were dressed in a style you could only describe as a mix between a Sari and a greek Toga. Even Jimin who told you he wasn’t noble or rich was dressed better than yourself. It was then that you noticed how big this underground ecosystem really was and on top of that, the people were all beautiful beyond comparison. 

They all looked scared of you, each tripping over themselves to show you around and lavish you in gifts. Jimin had rushed off once a noble woman had spotted you. He left you in her care, deeming himself no longer worthy of your presence. You watched how the elves lived and played with the children.

The tour of the village was long, your legs growing tired, merchants giving you fruits and tea. You were going through the town centre, walking between stalls. People busily rushing past. You caught Jimin’s eye. He seemed to be teaching something to some slightly younger elves, and when one fell, he helped them up and brushed off the dirt from their pants before giving some words of encouragement.

You met many people before you were taken to a small bathhouse to be washed and buffed, your hair was brushed and twisted into a beautiful hairstyle. The fabrics wrapped and draped around you were more expensive than any piece of clothing you had ever owned in your life.

Feeling cleaner than you had in a long time, you were led into one of the elaborate buildings before they sat you down, giving you food and entertaining you. They called for dancers and there he was, stepping out in silks and lace, spinning and leaping, moving as if  he was weightless. Jimin truly was beautiful. 

After his dance, he was ushered away and a woman stepped out, “I am Lady Adora and I am the leader of the village. I have brought to you some of the finest men. Pick any elf you wish, they are noble, each pleasing to the eyes and well educated.”

Was she trying to sell you a man? This seemed to be some weird arranged marriage business. You were led out from behind the dining table and asked to walk down the line, “This one is the eldest, Kim Seokjin - he is handsome and romantic, he has good heritage. Next is Min Yoongi, who is shorter than the average elf, but he is creative and enjoys the simple things.” Just as you thought, this was like the bachelorette and you were supposed to pick someone. Admittedly they were all gorgeous, it was insane. “Jung Hoseok is from a brilliant family of scholars and he has a cheerful disposition; he is friendly and caring.” Lady Adora continued.

“Kim Namjoon is a genius, he has a love for nature and is from a good family. Kim Taehyung is a little odd, but he is refreshingly curious and has equally refreshing features.” Your eye caught sight of the dancers; there he was in his soft silks and laces, peeking from behind a pillar. Behind him, some small elves also seemed to be peeking at you curiously.

He shushed them as you stepped up to the last young man, “This is our youngest, a very talented man, he is from a good family and he strives for perfection.”

“They are all very nice looking,” you said with a smile.

“Would you like to have them all?” The elf leader spoke up in confusion. 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you backpedaled quickly, “I was just admiring their skills and beauty as you had described them to be, very handsome individuals with good backgrounds.”

You saw the dancer giggle into his bell sleeve and subconsciously smiled back at him. You were led back to the table and sat down, “You can choose any of the eligible young elves within the village, has anyone caught your eye?” Adora asked sitting beside you and handing you a drink. “You have plenty of time to decide. How about some more festivities? Dancers!”

Jimin raced back into the clearing of the dining hall. He knew he wasn’t a noble or anyone particularly worthy of being with an Almighty. The Almighties were the beings they prayed to in order to receive gifts from the heavens. This Almighty was a gift from the heavens for the people and he knew that she had to be treated favorably, so as to please the Almighty.

Jimin had never seen anything like you before, your beauty was subtle, hidden but under the right circumstances you bloomed like a flower. He enjoyed watching your expressions as he danced. It was the reason he chose to dance, to make the Almighty happy with each performance.

“He dances so well,” you smiled; he could hear you and a part of him hoped it was you he was talking about. “The one in the black and red silks with the red lace.”

“That is Jimin, would you like him?” Upon hearing Lady Adora offering him of all people, he stumbled and the music stopped.You rushed out around the table, but he was already scurrying into a bow as if he was begging for his life. Sitting on his feet, hands flat on the floor and his forehead touching the ground. He did this whilst crawling backwards away from you.

“Jimin,” you whispered, lifting his head. It was cheesy how his heart fluttered in his chest when your eyes locked on his. His mouth fell open, he believed he saw you blush, his breath caught in his throat. Did he say your beauty was subtle? He was wrong.

“I am sorry, I will go repent,” he said, bowing low again.

“Please forgive Jimin, he must have been light-headed,” Adora said as if trying to calm you. He never believed in the elf’s stupid idea of love at first sight, but there he was, in love. 

Taking his hands in yours, you lifted him and guided him to the table. He almost choked when you tried to make him sit in your chair. Jimin dug his feet into the ground when you tried to lead him up the steps to your seat. He felt uneasy with the whole room watching him struggle and eventually sat down on the step below you, graciously accepting the food and drinks you offered albeit embarrassed. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t perform well,” Jimin spoke sadly, his ears and cheeks aflame. “I will make sure to be better next time.”

“You are a beautiful and elegant dancer and I enjoyed watching the way you moved to the music.” Your words sounded so warm and the accent was unlike anything he had ever heard. His brain got past your voice and caught up with what you had said and he ducked his head from how red his cheeks had become.

“You are too kind, I-'' He was cut off by Adora asking if you had decided on an elf. You leaned over to Jimin.

“Why am I supposed to choose an elf?” you asked. Jimin took a sharp breath, your hair had brushed his shoulder and he lost himself in your eyes, “What does choosing an elf mean?”

Jimin laughed almost in stitches. You didn’t know why these elves were being presented to you and he decided to explain it all before you had to choose. Because what if you chose randomly and didn’t like the elf? He wanted you to be happy. Even if a small part of him was jealous of the noble elves. You would be stuck with them together for eternity after all.

“Lady Adora, I think it would be best to explain to the Almighty why she is choosing a suitor,” Jimin prompted, lowering his head. She was a caring leader, but he still wanted to show her respect. Everyone in the community knew one another, and Lady Adora had practically raised him. Though elves could live forever, there had been times where elves had lost their lives. 

These times included when the Almighty would be angered and come down from the heavens and take those they wished, laying waste to anyone who got in their way. Jimin was familiar with this notion: his father had been the previous leader of the village - he had tried to stop the Almighty from taking some of the innocent elves. Jimin was  only a baby when he and a few other children were taken. 

Jimin’s parents fought hard, but they were both killed in the process for interfering with the Almighty’s plans. The children were returned, unharmed, but the damage was done. Jimin was orphaned. It was strange. Jimin was so young, so he didn’t know what had happened, but it seemed none of the children taken really remembered what happened either. 

“The Almighty will be blessed with any elf she chooses to spend the rest of her life with,” Adora explained smiling; it was amusing to see the realization on your face. “The elves will now demonstrate their specialty energy.”

They had magic, they were air and water benders or something. These were real Naruto jutsus. You were about to lose your mind. ‘Pick a husband, and guess what their secret powers are.’ That’s what she should have said in the first place. Jimin had almost wet himself, giggling at your expense when he realized you didn’t know what this whole celebration was for. They were celebrating you and apparently your gift was an eternal super hot elf husband.

“Who do you choose?” Adora asked and you froze. This had to be some sort of fever dream. The elevator collapsed on you and you died, the rats underground were probably eating your body as you dreamt this.

“Does everyone have powers?” You asked Jimin and he held out his hand where a glowing orb appeared, “What’s that?”

“I can heal things.” He smiled, healing being something he believed stemmed from his parents deaths. Cultivated with the hopes of never suffering loss again. “Do you want me to explain to Adora that you need more time?”

“We can have the boys answer some questions if you would like?” Adora seemed desperate.

“I think I will need more time to choose properly ” you said, squaring your shoulders definitively and Lady Adora nodded approvingly. 

“Excellent,” she clapped her hands, “you shall all get to know each other before choosing.”

The dinner and celebrations raged on filled with laughter and dancing, when Lady Adora spotted you yawning. You were guided to a room where you retreated for the night in a warm bed. 

You woke in disbelief. You weren’t dead in a collapsed elevator nor were you being feasted on by a group of rats. No, instead you were in the softest bed, feeling like you had just gotten the best sleep of your life. You sat up hearing a knock at the door, quickly straightening up and calling them in. 

A small part of you was scared that they would figure out you weren’t who they thought you were to be and they would kick you out or worse. Your memory was a bit foggy and everything seemed like a dream. It was hard to discern what was real and what might have been your imagination while you slept.

It hit you that this was all real, when they drew you a bath. They filled it with soft petals and took it upon themselves to help you wash once more - it almost seemed like overkill, you were scrubbed and polished just yesterday. Did you really need another thorough clean?

Dressed in the most delicate of dresses intricately tied around your waist and neck, you spun, watching the skirt flutter around you. You were giddy, wanting to sing and dance. It was such a drastic change. The community seemed so welcoming and gentle, they had no negative thoughts or intentions. 

They guided you to the town square which had been decorated in flowers. The boys were walking around with baskets of flowers, some sitting making flower crowns intricately and you skipped after Jimin, who led you to a beautiful meadow by the river. The hem of your dress was bouncing slightly with every step. You crouched beside him, looking at the flower crown he began making. 

“Wow! That’s pretty. Can you make me one?” you grinned; Jimin spluttered and he looked at you in shock. Had you offended him? “I’m sorry.”

“No, you did nothing wrong, it’s just flowers are a big part of courting in elf tradition, if you accept the flower crown, you accept the elf as a prospective partner. Or at least you like them enough to dance with them during the flower festival.”

You hummed in thought and grinned at him, “I like you enough to dance with you, unless you want to give it to someone. Then I won’t bother you”

“No one usually dances with me?” He laughed, more to himself, “Last year I danced with Hana. I think she did it out of pity and she didn’t keep time, so she stepped on my toes.”

“Oh no!” You frowned, “wait, I don’t know the dance?” 

He stopped looking up at you, you were fretting, “please teach me the dance!” You gripped his hands and he nodded, taking your hands. He led you away from the flowers in the small meadow and began explaining the dance and you nodded, paying attention. 

He tried to teach you the dance, giving you directions and laughing when you felt hopeless. He took your hands and guided you through the steps, humming a foreign tune. You were reduced to giggling something about the spins, the hand holding and the steps felt so good; you were so happy and giddy. 

You spun laughing and fell against his chest, he caught you, quickly placing you back to your feet and stepping back. “You are actually a really good dancer.”

“Maybe it’s because you are my teacher?” You smiled.

“If only you would look away from your feet,” he teased and you laughed.

“It's been fun dancing with you, I have never learnt a proper dance before,” you blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Thank you Jimin.”

You kissed his cheek and ran off and spinning quickly to see his bright red cheeks. You joined the festivities, trying the food and even playing some of the games with the ribbons and hoops. 

It was time for the evening dance and the young eligible elves stood with their hands out, flower crowns intricately designed resting atop their palms. Weaved flowers of different sizes and styles in colours of pinks, blues, reds and more, held by confident and bored looking elves. Behind them a nervous Jimin caught your attention.

You watched as he looked down, it was hard to see the crown from so far away but the colour scheme seemed to be yellow, the ribbon to which the flowers were weaved was a shiny gold. Yellow flowers usually represent friendship, like Jimin calling out for someone to just be his friend. 

“Hey, Hana, are you going to take Jimin’s flower crown this time?” One of the young female elves called in a hushed tone across the small group of eligible elvish maidens and yourself of course. 

“No, I did it last time because I felt bad for him” she whined. You felt disgusted that they were avoiding him.

“Whatever, someone has to make the first move,” the girls looked at each other nervously and you gently brushed past them and headed straight out onto the dance floor.

It seemed everyone was waiting for you to choose, stepping up to the first elf. You looked at the pink flowered crown in his hands; it was a little over the top and not your style. You saw his smirk and proceeded to step on, making a few of the other young elves laugh, Seokjin’s pointed ears turning red. 

“Seokjin, I thought you said no one could say no to you or your flower crown” they snickered. You continued. The next crown was almost falling apart and the elf ducked his head, apologising. 

“Hey, a crown doesn’t define you, people have different strengths. You are really smart from what I heard?” You smiled and moved through the lines, being polite and admiring their creatures, praising some and chatting with others. The purple crown was elaborate and beautiful, you smiled praising him. You would have taken it, had it not been for Jimin shuffling in the next row in your peripherals. You looked over and found him fiddling with his crown, pouting.

Thanking Jungkook, you stepped into the next row, not bothering to look at him any more and heading straight to Jimin. He was no longer watching you; he was staring at the floor, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Jimiiiin~” you smiled, spinning happily, “This is really pretty, can I see it?” 

He puffed up from your praise, getting a little bashful and held the crown up for you to see, “Oh this is lovely, Jimin, this is so pretty.”

“Thank you,” He was becoming more and more bashful, wiggling his shoulders cutely, scuffing his shoes on the stone.

“Can I wear it?” You asked, cupping your hands under his and looking up hopeful. You didn’t want to take away his choice on who he could give the crown to, but you also thought of him as your friend you were closer to than the others.

“Are you sure?” He asked and you nodded grinning. 

“Yes, but I don’t know how to wear these.Do you know how to tie them?” He laughed like sweet bells tinkling in the wind and it left you a little dazed and embarrassed, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“No, no, I would never,” he smiled, gently lifting the delicate flower crown onto your head, and taking the two ribbons, he began tying it behind your head. 

He was so close looking into your eyes as he tied it off and arranging the little flowers hanging strategically from the crown. Jimin’s crown was probably the sweetest looking, so delicate and intricate with soft petals or pale yellows and deep golds. 

You smiled and took your spots on the dance floor and the others did the same, the line of female elves and yourself facing the line of male elves and the dance began. Slowly you recited Jimin's teachings. 

Three steps forward, you  offered your right hand and he bowed, accepting the offered hand with both of his. While his right hand held yours, squeezing reassuringly, his left softly glided up your arm as he stepped behind you. 

His left hand slid from your left shoulder, down your back where he clutched your waist, trying not to giggle as he realised you were ticklish.. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you followed the routine, placing your left hand atop his. 

You looked down and he whispered into your ear, “Keep your head up, don’t look down, I will lead you perfectly trust me.” The feeling of his soft breath brushing the shell of your ear made you shiver. 

You felt beautiful and loved all from just one dance, it was like being the main character in a movie getting to dance with a beautiful man. He spun you and you were now facing one another, hand in hand, swaying and spinning.

You were exhausted from the dancing, your throat a little dry. You were met by Seokjin who handed you a drink. “Good evening, my lady, I apologise for not introducing myself sooner, I am Kim Seokjin, from the main house of Kim.” 

“Oh well, thank you for the introduction,” you smiled, taking a sip of the drink and Jimin looked awkward. 

“You have to choose an eligible bachelor and I thought it wouldn’t be fair unless we each got to spend time and get to know each other - so with that in mind I thought I could show you some of the fun games?”

“Uh sure, I guess you are right, it’s only fair I hang out with all of you equally.” He took your hand and looped it around yours, walking you away to the festival activities without giving you a chance to thank Jimin. 

Seokjin was hilarious, he took you to a small stall where there was fish in a tank and if you caught the fish, you got to keep it. You tried your best, but you were too busy laughing at Seokjin to catch anything. He was terrible and it was so comical, watching him fail his expressions over the top. 

You splashed water at him and he looked offended, he splashed back and you ran off before he could catch you. The two of you spoke, getting to know one another. Seokjin was really charming and handsome. He spoke to you about food and jokes and your cheeks ached from smiling, your sides stung from laughter. He stopped in front of a sweet scented stall, “you should try these - they are sugared roses, they are delicious.”

They were indeed delicious and he smiled at you, “it’s happening!” Seokjin took your hand in his bigger warmer one and dragged you along excitedly. 

“What’s happening?” You asked curious as to why he was running and he turned back grinning so childlike and pulled you along. 

“It’s the fireflies, come look!” He pointed at the sky and you saw it begin: the fireflies started to dance beautifully. It was amazing in all different colours and shapes and sizes; they spun together in the air, twisting and turning like a small galaxy. 

You felt someone standing behind you and smiled, Jimin was lost in the sight, “pretty.” 

“They dance to find love, that’s why every year in spring we dance as well,” Jimin said, “you will find love eventually.”

He handed you a small bag with a fish inside. It was white with a tail like a fan, tipped with gold and very pretty. “It’s a thank you for dancing with me.”

“Wait Jimin, I don’t have anywhere to put the fish.”

“Oh” he frowned, “I do, it can stay in my pond at home.”

“Well, then I will have to visit and take care of the fish,” you grinned, bumping your shoulder with his. Jimin was so cute. 

Once you woke and dressed your first destination was Jimin’s house to feed the fish. Jimin lived in a big house by himself and you were confused, “where are your parents and brothers and sisters?”

“They died when I was born.” He let out a soft sigh, the two of you sprinkling the fish food into the big pond out the back. There were about a hundred fish in different shades. He smiled leaning over to sprinkle another pinch of fish food, his hair dangerously close to the water, and you hooked your fingers around the tressels and tucked it behind his ear. 

He paused at the contact, shivering as he grabbed his ear, blushing. He let out a giggle, “Come on, let’s go see your new fish.” He brushed his hands on the lap of his midnight blue robes, standing and offering his hand to you. He pulled you up onto your feet and without letting your hand go he led you through the garden to another tiny pond where there were not as many fish occupying the small pool of water. 

But swimming in the water was the beautiful fantail fish Jimin had gifted you the night before. It was such a beautiful fish with its long tail fluttering in the water as it moved. “You are so pretty,” you grinned, gesturing to the fish food in the tiny heshen bag. “Can I?”

“Of course, she is very pretty. I couldn’t give you anything but the best, you are an Almighty. I put her in the tank with my oldest fish. I raised him since he was a baby, he is very calm.” This fish was also a fantail, but black with silver spots. Jimin held out the bag and you sprinkled the food out and he smiled.

“How old is he?” You smiled, watching the two swim around happily. 

“He turns thirty-five this year,” Jimin smiled, “Fish of this kind will often live till they are forty.”

“Wait, you can’t be over thirty-five, you look like you're twenty,” You scoffed, looking him up and down. He was quick to throw his head back and let out an adorable laugh, falling against you for a moment before picking himself up from your shoulder.

“I like that, Twenty, hahaha!” Wiping his eyes, Jimin ran away giggling, “I am sixty-five!”

“NO WAY!” You gasped chasing after him.

After feeding the fishes that morning with Jimin, you were sitting by the small fountain in the town centre, the people were cleaning up from the flower festival and the dance that night. It was a great night, but it was nice to see how the elves lived day to day. The festivals and celebrations were fun, but draining. Now no one was trying to wait on your hand and foot.

The elvish girls were giggling and quick to approach you, “Good morning, my lady. A few of us are all going to the waterfall, if you want to join in the fun.”

“Oh, that sounds really exciting,” you smiled, placing down the slices of melon Jimin had bought for you before he ran off to teach the young elfs. A disappointment filled you when you remembered you didn’t have a swimsuit. “But I have nothing to wear. What do you wear when you go swimming?” 

They giggled, grabbed you by the hands and pulled you towards the stalls in the market.It was an open lane that branched off from the town square. Stumbling into a marquee full of summer fabrics, they began offering you different options on what you could wear. You found something that resembled a bikini from the surface.

You smiled, showing the elvish ladies your selected swimwear.They went quiet and you wondered what they were thinking. But ultimately, this would be the most comfortable for you, it was what you were used to, so you were going to wear it no matter what.

Taking the fabric and following the group of elves, you trekked through the forest for a short while until you came across a small waterfall. The water was crystal clear and you could see the water running from a few pipes in the wall. There were a few tents where everyone got changed. You were helped by one of the ladies into the swim wear and she tied everything securely. 

Stepping out, the girls chorused ‘ooh’, making you feel a little self conscious - maybe it was weird to show this much skin. But they quickly forgot about what you were wearing and raced into the water. It was refreshing to swim, and you had to admit, your serotonin levels soared when you were splashing and playing with the elves in the water.

Some of the male elves were climbing the waterfall and jumping off squealing excitedly and you followed them. “Hey, you going to jump too?” The young male asked. His hair was braided entirely, so it was out of his face. “Come this way, it is easier to climb.”

He helped you up, guiding you the whole way, taking your hand to pull you onto tall rocks and placing your feet when you were determined to climb the smaller rocks. “You are so tiny, are you sure you can climb this one?”

As if his words had jinxed it, you slipped falling into his arms, your back pressed to his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. He turned you in his arms and looked at your hands feet and knees for any cuts, he saw the slight graze on your palm and looked guilty.”I’m okay,”

Taking your hand in his he kissed the abrasion and apologized. “I should have been more careful.” He wouldn’t let you climb any of the rocks alone after that. You were thankful when you reached the top.

“Hey Jungkook, what took you so long, you scared?” A deep voice called. When you stepped up onto the flat part of the waterfall, you noticed the elf’s eyes widen as he took your hand helping you across the rocks. “Are you going to jump?” 

The two were giving you tips and tricks on how to jump properly. It was a lot. “I will go first and you can see how it is done,” Jungkook grinned, “Then Taehyung can count you in.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling a little sick at the idea of dropping that far into the water. Jungkook jumped, whooping the whole way down and it made you giggle. Now it was your turn.

“I will count you in, okay? And then you jump,” Taehyung said and you stepped up to the edge and shuffled back.

“Wow, that is high!” Your heart was beating in your ears like a drum and you felt like your legs give out.

“Come on, you can do it!” Jungkook shouted from underneath you. It seemed everyone was cheering you on from the bottom and you turned to Taehyung and stumbled over.

“I don’t think I can do it” You said, grabbing his arms, “I’m a big chicken, I will just walk back down and everything will be alright.” 

He rubbed your shoulders reassuringly, looking you in the eyes, “Hey, listen to me, I know it is scary, but it is a lot of fun and safe and you will love it.” You looked at him, he had gotten rather close and his hand snaked around your waist. You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about the jump as you were lost in his expression. 

His grip around your waist tightened and he lifted you up, alarm bells ringing as he ran towards the cliff and you started screaming. The jump was scary, but the fall was amazing, for a second you felt like you were weightless in a void. 

Splash! It was all over in a matter of seconds. When you resurfaced, you smacked Taehyung in the arms, calling him a traitor and then laughing when he tickled your waist. “You are a butt.”

Jungkook and Taehyung were playful and the three of you were searching for shiny rocks in the bottom of the water. They even showed you a cool underwater cave where the three of you sat talking before you swam back out. You grew tired of swimming and went to sit in the shade, hoping you wouldn’t get burnt. Even though there wasn’t a real sun the UV lights still worked the same.

Laying out your towel beside one of the other noblemen that you had previously been introduced to, you sat down and smiled. “Hey, I am Y/n.” You gave him a tired sigh, laying back on the towel, “You aren’t swimming?”

“Nah, it’s too loud,” he laughed, not bothering to look at you. “Heard you jumped off the waterfall.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you blushed, “who told you that?”

“No, I mean I heard you.” He smirked, turning to look at you and you blushed. He was quiet and the two of you soon dressed and bailed as the rambunctious group had gotten too loud for you both. 

“Here, try this.” Yoongi handed you a few berries and smiled when you tasted them, “So, with this choosing thing, what are you thinking?”

“I am not sure,” you sighed begrudgingly, you were supposed to choose and you couldn’t leave them hanging forever. 

“Well, if I can be honest to you lady Almighty,” he said softly, “Man up and choose Jimin, it is obvious how much you are in love with him.” 

You were stunned. He took a berry from your hand and smirked, walking away. “Wait, come back here. What do you mean, I am in love with him?”

“Everyone can see your face light up when you see him and you flirt like all the time.” He shrugged, picking up a small string instrument and sitting on the porch of his home, strumming away.

“I do not flirt like all the time,” you mocked his tone, before trying to defend yourself by further saying, “I don’t even flirt like any of the time, it’s called being friendly.”

“Friends don’t get lost in each other's eyes. I saw you this morning on my walk, you were touching Jimin’s ear and that’s beyond flirting, that’s heavy petting,” he said and you blinked confused.

“I was tucking his hair out of the way so it didn’t get wet, since when has that been heavy petting?” you asked with a laugh, reaching out to Yoongi, “Seriously, I could touch your ears and it would mean nothing.”

“Hey, stop,” he commanded, cheeks bright red. You looked confused and he examined your confused face. “You do understand that an elf’s ears are an erogenous zone, like it is intimate to touch another elf’s ears.”

Heat filled your cheeks. “Oh no, I did that to Jimin, I must have weirded him out. I hope I haven’t touched anyone else’s ears-”

“You would know if you did,” Yoongi said, patting your shoulder, “Look, Jimin likes you too, I think he understands you didn’t mean it like that.”

You wanted nothing more than to apologize to Jimin, but instead, you kept your mouth shut in shame. He let you feed the fish and watched you curiously. “Is something wrong, you seem really quiet today?”

“It’s nothing, I just have just been thinking,” you smiled softly.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No, if anyone has done something wrong, it is me.” You let everything spill out, “I want to apologize for doing things that might seem really intimate, I didn’t know that's what they meant, I was just trying to be friendly, cause you are my friend.”

“Oh, yeah sure, no I understand, I guess I thought, but nevermind.” He gave you a strange smile, “We are friends, of course. I have to go teach the kids dance this morning, I can see you later though.” 

You nodded, getting up quickly, “Maybe we can have lunch together?”

“Uh, I might be a bit busy,” he said, walking you out the front door and racing off and you just stood there, feeling kind of confused. Was it weird that you had addressed it? You hoped not.

Thinking that maybe you should read up on elf traditions and mannerisms etiquette and more, you headed to the one place that would house all this information.

The Library. 

What a library it was - there were floor to ceiling bookshelves and aisles and the books were all hand written and magnificent. “Good morning, My lady, can i help you find something today?”

“Yes, I want to know more about elves, the traditions, the etiquette, everything?” You hummed, “I mean I just found out yesterday you can’t touch an elf’s ears.” 

The man in front of you blushed and shuffled his feet, when you heard another voice, “Yeah, that’s something you should know.” The figure appeared from behind the bookshelves and smiled. “I mean between his book smarts and my street smarts well, we will have you thinking like an elf in no time.”

The two were indeed smart, Hoseok explained - his father was big on literature, but he often snuck off to Jimin’s dance lessons instead of studying. “The life of a scholar never stops, or whatever my dad says.”

You had finally learnt different holidays and aspects of life as an elf, it was kind of fun and you enjoyed hanging out with the two young elves. They followed you through the town, explaining things and making you laugh. 

“And that is the orphanage.” They gestured to Jimin’s home and you frowned, “It used to be the last leader's home but when they died their son was left orphaned and the house has become known as the orphanage.”

It was like a knife in your chest. You wanted to console Jimin, hold him and tell him he was loved, that his parents would be proud of him. There was nothing left for you on the surface, no one who you cared about or cared about you, but underground you had this connection with everyone you met.

Jimin was definitely avoiding you and you were worried as to why. He left you notes saying the fish had been fed and he was already at dance practice and that he was practicing for the night of the children. Hoseok and Namjoon explained that the night of the children was a feast in honour of when the elvish children that the Almighty had taken were returned safely. It was the anniversary of the reuniting of families. 

Each of the children who had been taken  participated in the celebration and Namjoon was dreading it. You were dressed in a beautiful violet coloured robe and as you walked into the feast just like last time, you were sat at the head of the hall. At a big table, alone. 

The dancers came out, some of the elves looking nervous. Seokjin was sweating, standing oddly with his arms in a twist, but once the music started and they all started dancing their moves telling the story. 

The elves twisted and turned in fabrics of sweet colours, they were swept up by other dances in black and dragged off stage, Jimin among them. When the other elves returned they danced and scattered off the small stage and Jimin walked out, his cream robes slowly falling as he went, revealing a thinner inner robe of black and he danced a solo, expressing his loneliness and sorrow.

You were crying, wiping your eyes with Lady Adora’s silk handkerchief, you watched as all the elves came back onto the stage and bowed. It hurt to see Jimin in pain, it was worse than losing your own family and perhaps Yoongi was right. When you love someone, they become your most important thing and right now, Jimin felt like the only thing you cared about. Without thinking, you spoke up. “I choose Jimin.”

They all seemed shocked, including Jimin who looked like he was about to pass out. You didn’t know whether he was excited or scared. You hoped he wouldn’t hate you for it, you really liked him and it was becoming clear how much he meant to you. 

If he could love you as well, you would be happy. Of course, if he said he didn’t want to be with you or seemed uneasy, then you wouldn’t force him. They all froze and you blushed self consciously, it felt like you had just declared your love for Jimin.

“I mean if you want to, that is?” You flushed, and he bowed looking confused.

“I would be honoured.” His hands were shaking and his face was heating up and you requested that he sit next to you at dinner.

It was odd. Jimin was still distant and you were trying to see him Very early one morning, you got up early and knocked on his door. He answered, seeming tired and he looked at you. “I am here to see my fish.” He nodded, allowing you in and you walked through his house to the backyard where the fish ponds were, watching him race off down the hall. You knelt by the fish pond, feeding them tiny pinches of food. You spoke softly to the fishes, looking for any sort of sign. “Has he said anything to you guys?”

Jimin reemerged dressed and hair brushed, you smiled softly watching him contemplate something internally as he watered the flowers. Tugging lightly on his sleeve and stealing his attention once more. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I um, wanted to know why you chose me?” He asked softly. You had noticed his habit of running his fingers through his hair a lot, and right now was no exception.

“I chose you because, as I said the other day, you are my friend, Jimin,” you answered honestly and his face fell, “I had taken my time to get to know the other elves, but since I met you we got along and since then have been running into each other often. You are kind and gentle. Out of all of the people in that room, you were the one I considered my dearest friend, and if there was anyone I would want to spend the rest of my life with, it would be you.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t mean to be intimate, you were just being friendly.” He seemed a little bitter about those words. You hadn’t realized that’s how he would interpret them that afternoon.

“Wait, you stopped hanging out with me because of that?” Your mouth fell open.

“You were flirting with me, you kissed my cheek and practically declared your interest in me when you chose me at the flower festival dance and you even came to my house to feed the fish and you touched my ear, what was I supposed to think!” He rampaged. “You then, after leading me to believe that you liked me a lot, told me that it was all a mistake and you wanted to just be friends.”

“No, I meant that I didn’t know the actions were seen as intimate and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so I told you I was being friendly at the time,” you huffed, standing in front of him, looking up at him exasperated, “not that I wasn’t falling in love with you. Cause I was falling in love with you and I got scared that my stupid actions would weird you out and drive you away. But then you disappeared, ignoring me and I realized how much I missed you and wanted to be with you for eternity. I realized that your life means more to me than my own. Because I love you so much, it scares me.”

“You love me?” He paused, eyes wide and you nodded, your throat dry, making it unable to speak. He suddenly came forward, cupped your face and kissed you desperately, like he had been waiting an eternity and you clutched his robes, not wanting him to let you go. He pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours, “I know I am not like the other guys, I have no fortune and I am not noble, but I will do everything to serve you and make you happy.”

“The fact that you care so much for me already means I made a good decision.” You smiled. “As long as you want to marry me as well, there is nothing in this world that can stop us.”

“You are going to have to learn how to dance for our wedding.” He grinned cheekily.

“I made you a bouquet, it is tradition. I hope you like them, they remind me of you,” Jimin began, explaining all the flowers and the reasons behind why he chose them. It was so early in the morning, but he had to give you the flowers before you were all dressed up, so it would be a surprise when you walked down the aisle.

“The little white ones mean innocence and purity.” He smiled pointing them out.

“The baby’s breath,” you nodded, waiting for him to continue, eyes scanning the bouquet for any other flowers you recognized. However, when he failed to continue his explanation, you lifted your gaze, suppressing a giggle. “It’s just what we call it, because it’s small and soft like the breath of a baby.”

“Oh, that does make sense,” he hummed and you pointed at the bright yellow Dahlias that highlighted the bouquet and he blushed. “This one represents a commitment shared forever by two persons, like marriage.”

“I love them Jimin. Thank you.” 

Jimin blushed and scurried off with his ears red. You were feeling giddy with excitement. If someone had told you two months ago, while trying to find a place to live, you would get married to a beautiful young man with a heart of gold - well, you would’ve outright laughed in their face. 

The ladies were practically squealing at the encounter between Jimin and yourself, but quickly sent him away as they had to get you ready. After all that he left with the bouquet, but the ladies said they would retrieve it later, once you were completely ready. You were soaked in a warm bath filled with soft flower petals and they began scrubbing you down completely.

“My lady Almighty, can I ask you a question?” You turned to the woman brushing through your hair, it seemed almost comical how many young elvish maidens were helping you get ready. They were all excited and trying to keep you calm, as today was the big day and she was smiling softly. Dressed in a soft sunset pink and each looking stunning. “Why did you choose Jimin? Is it because he is a good dancer?”

“If it were me I would have chosen Jungkook.” Another woman grinned.

“I think it was because he was nice and gentle. I saw him in the marketplace. He was kind and helped one of the other dancers who had fallen. It was very nice of him.” You smiled softly, “And then, he truly is an amazing dancer and he is really beautiful, he seems to be perfect inside and out.”

“We have never really seen him in this light, we apologize,” the woman said, twisting your hair into a beautiful updo, “I guess we were more focused on status and money.”

They helped you into your shoes and led you to the mirror. You gasped and tried to hold back the tears. You were wearing a beautiful white midriff top that had no sleeves and the fabric in the middle had been twisted to give a sweetheart effect. It was lined with a gold lace trimming and matched with what could be likened to the cutest pair of panties which were also white and gold. Then you were wrapped in the white silk with gold trimmings, twisted and tied in a way you had no idea how to create or get out of it. It made you feel ethereal.

The ladies were talking excitedly about how you looked so beautiful and how they couldn’t wait to see you get married. They were all giving you tips and revealing secrets about what elf men liked and disliked. You appreciated the help, never having the opportunity of dating an elf on the surface.

They were telling you about how an elf’s ears were sensitive and ways to use it to your advantage and you were a blushing mess remembering your encounters  with Jimin and the almost encounter with Yoongi. 

They started talking about the prospect of a child and how many you wanted to have, and when you honestly answered about always wanting a big family, maybe four or five at the minimum, they were shocked. 

“So many!” They squealed. “You are a promiscuous little minx!”

You blushed, giggling with the girls. They told you all about traditions and customs and different aspects of their little world. They were happy about being enclosed underground and part of you could agree, they were safe and protected from the harsh world and all the cruel people who lived in it. 

Like the drunk driver who killed your parents, leaving you orphaned and homeless overnight. Like the people who you thought were your friends, but eventually faded away making excuses to drive you away as it was embarrassing to hang out with someone who was homeless.

No, here everyone was part of a community.They worked together and you never wanted to leave. Not because they treated you so highly. No, it was much simpler than that, because they treated everyone with such kindness.

There was a knock at the door and the ladies all left quickly. You wondered who it was now, heart beating rapidly in your chest at the thought of the ceremony starting soon, taking deep breaths, trying not to think of the people that would watch you walk down the aisle or say your vows. Trying not to think about the possibility of Jimin saying no and you being forced to leave this beautiful paradise.

Shutting out all the thoughts you concentrated on Jimin’s declaration, “He wanted to make you happy.” Someone called your name and turning, you were met by two men, human men dressed in black business suits. “Come with us.” They grabbed you by the upper arms and began escorting you from the room and outside towards the elevator.

You were being forced to leave. Jimin smiled bashfully, you were a vision of beauty and felt his breathing hitch, stolen from him by your very being. “I am sorry, I forgot to give you the flowers…” It was then that he noticed you were being dragged away and he felt his heart break. Had he angered the Almighty, you were being taken from him. No, you couldn’t leave, you were supposed to be here for the rest of your life, happily married, but here you were, being ripped from his life. 

“Wait for me,” you pleaded as the doors to the elevator closed. It was a long journey back to the surface and you tried to keep your cool. Hoping you could return, it wouldn’t do to cry and ruin your makeup, it was your wedding day. Hopefully it could still be your wedding day. Crap. Now you really were crying.

No one seemed to understand that you didn’t want to leave. They were all apologizing that you had to go down there and you were feeling more and more annoyed as time passed by. You shuffled your bare feet, they felt cold against the linoleum flooring. They offered to get you some slippers, but you refused.

“You have to sign the non-disclosure agreement and then you are free to leave, but never speak of it to anyone,” the man said, gesturing to the paper. “Look, we will even give you all the  money you want, buy you a small home and give you anything you wish for. Just sign the paper.”

“I don’t want to leave, let me go back,” you pleaded. The man looked shocked, but that was it. You had thought they would finally let you leave, but it was after another thirty more minutes of questionnaire that they considered allowing you to go back down, and thirty more minutes for them to agree to it being permanently. 

“Alright, you can go back down, but we will revisit this case with the higher ups and they will make the final decision.” They sighed.

You were free to return. 

There was no escort, you headed back down alone. You looked at the mirror, everything was still as it was, not a hair out of place and you were glad the elves preferred soft and subtle makeup. That way, eyeliner and mascara weren’t really included - otherwise your face would have been streaked and stained with dark streaks.  

Once you reached the underground, you rushed out of the elevator; it was raining, a cold artificial rain, you running through the streets, still wearing your white dress as you called his name. Everyone poked their heads out to see what was going on. 

You frantically searched for Jimin, looking for any sign of him. Ripping off your shoes in the process as they had gotten stuck in the mud. Hope was dwindling - where could he be? - as the last resort was the wedding venue, and you ran to the courtyard out the front of the palace. 

There were empty seats with ribbons of white and gold, the aisle was long and you raced down, the petals sticking to the bottom of your bare feet. There he was. Waiting at the altar alone, a bouquet of white and gold, waiting patiently as you had asked of him. 

You ran to him, grabbing him by the collar without a second to hesitate and pulling him into you for a searing kiss. Or two. Or three. Apologising between kisses for having to leave.

“I am here and I love you. Let’s get married.” You grinned as he smiled. Lady Adora ran out into the rain, soon followed by more elves, each getting soaked. The two of you exchanged rings and he took your hand into his, saying his vows and you said yours. Lady Adora announced you married and guided you both out of the rain into the palace where a feast had been prepared. You were bathed and redressed into another outfit as you had been all muddy.

This had given who? time to cook and decorate, and when you stepped out again, Jimin was immediately by your side. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms and led you in a sweet dance. It seemed for his own benefit that he kept you close like he was consoling himself from the idea of losing you.

After a feast and dancing, Jimin took your hand and escorted you from the palace ballroom and to a room. He explained that Lady Adora had prepared it for the two of you to share for as long as you wished. He unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal a beautiful room, even more glamorous than the one you had previously stayed in. With soft white rugs and romantic flower petals strewn across the floor and fresh fruits and soft looking blankets. It all looked so warm and cozy.

But now you were hit with nerves, growing shy. You looked up at Jimin in all his beauty, “I um, don’t know how to undo this dress, they tied the fabric and I-” Jimin slowly stepped forward, watching your reaction. It was like your heart was going to explode out of your chest with how heavy it was beating. Your breathing was so shallow that when his hand cupped your cheek you felt your head spin. 

“You look so beautiful.” His hand gently took the fabric and undid the ties. You caught the dress right as it was about to fall off and blushed. Your hands were shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

“Are you going to undress as well?” Jimin blushed and started undoing his own attire. He walked you to the bed, all the while you clutched the fabric of your dress. He gently placed his hands on yours and let out a soft chuckle. He undressed you from the fabric and looked at the sweet undergarments you adorned.

Releasing a shaky breath, he smiled up at you. “You are beautiful and I am nervous.”

“I am shaking, I am so scared.” You giggled “I am scared that you will realize that you don’t want me and leave.”

“I could never leave you. I want you. Trust me.” He took your hand, placing it against his bare chest and you could feel his heart beating just as fast as yours. “I love you and this heart is now yours to keep.”

The first kiss was intense, full of passion and fire and you buried your hands in his hair playfully, brushing your thumbs across the tips of his ears.

If you thought taking off the dress was difficult, then putting it on in the morning was an even bigger struggle. You ended up having to ask for Jimin’s help. He blushed at your request, making you laugh. For he was now your husband and you had just woken up after your wedding night. But it was redressing that felt more intimate to you both.

You were embarrassed, the whole community was present in the palace hall for a celebratory breakfast. It seemed Lady Adora was ashamed that the plans for the wedding ceremony had fallen through. They showered you with gifts and the food was beautifully presented. Each family bowed and presented you with their offerings and well wishes. 

You spent most of the morning proceedings, fiddling with the ring on your hand, it was so shiny and delicate. With two entwining silver bands that in the right light reflected a barely there iridescent green the bands were shaped to look like ivy wrapping around a beautiful round yellow tourmaline.

It looked like a beautiful flower atop vines, and you were in love, there hadn’t really been time to admire the ring in the rain, but now you couldn’t stop looking at it, getting lost in the colours. Jimin’s hand gently laid atop yours, bringing you back to the present. It seemed the people were waiting for you. Jimin repeated the question quietly to you under his breath. “They are asking if you would like to stay in the palace or if you would like them to build you a more elaborate home.” Gently pressing his lips to your jawline, you nodded, pretending to be contemplating the question and not daydreaming. 

Jimin let out a bit of a giggle when he heard you hum. “Everything has been wonderful, and I would rather live in the palace amongst everyone, it is a piece of history.”

Lady Adora seemed pleased by this response and announced they would clean and refurbish the best room for you. The day was filled with choosing different fabrics and furniture styles, Jimin liked the more natural and floral themed items, especially the golden dahlias. As the room came together, it became the flower of the palace, the garden beds in the town square all filled with golden dahlias.

Custom clothes had been made for Jimin and yourself, pale gold robes embroidered by the dahlia. You thought the elves would get sick of the novelty, but they loved it as much as you did, the flower held such a wonderful meaning to you. 

The elves spent their days playing music, dancing and making sculptures or other art, they told stories and practiced using their special energies. You enjoyed watching Jimin practice healing, seldom bored as he practiced shirtless. He caught you staring most of the time and puffed out his chest proudly and you thought he’d started to do it purposefully. 

Jimin taught you how to meditate - it felt kind of silly at first but soon you grew to like it, just sitting in the room alone with your thoughts. It gave you time to process all your uncertainties and even encouraged you to talk about them to Jimin. 

You told him how you’d lost your parents, opening up about your life and he smiled, kissing your temple, telling you everything happens for a reason, that you were brought to him for a reason. He told you that he, too, had lost his parents and that fate must have chosen you both considering your past, so you could heal together. It was a lovely sentiment and you started to believe it. There were so many aspects of your situation that were crazy and unbelievable, from an underground city to elves, magic and marriage. If ever there was a time to think about fate it was now.

It had been the best few months of your life and if you could go back and do it all again you wouldn’t change a thing. Jimin woke you with kisses pressed to your shoulder blade, making you giggle. 

“Morning.” He smiled, you turned to him, admiring his beautiful features in the glow of the fake sun.

“What are your plans for today, my love?” You brushed some of the tendrils of hair from his face; he braided his hair for sleeping, but every morning there were always some pieces that fell out.

“Well, I thought we could go for a walk, perhaps have a picnic and if it’s not too late, we can swim at the waterfall,” he grinned before sitting up and wrapping himself in his robes, “If it’s too late, well, then we will have to swim at the waterfall now, won’t we?”

“So either way we are swimming at the waterfall?” you scoffed, standing up and dressing for the day, and he helped you tie the robe as he smiled cheekily.

“No, if it’s too late, we can’t swim at the waterfall. We will have to swim at the waterfall.” He stressed the words differently the second time and you raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he is implying.

“Enlighten me on the difference?” You watched his grin stretch wider, clearly you had played into his hand.

“Well the difference my dear, would be the dress code.” He slinked off elegantly across the room, gathering the hair brush, ready to style his hair for the day. You looked after him, mouth hanging open, about to call him out on his daring nature when the door burst open, revealing Taehyung looking nervous.

“The Almighty, they are here and they are asking for Y/n.” You felt sick. Why were they here and asking for you? Why were they ruining this?

“What do they want?” Jimin urged Taehyung, sounding a little hostile. You took Jimin's arm, gently squeezing his bicep, trying to calm and reassure him.

“Everything is fine, let me talk to them,” you said as you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading out of the palace out of the courtyard. You were escorted out of the town by Taehyung and up the small hill towards the elevator. They were waiting for you, you growing nervous as you turned to Taehyung. “I want to speak with them alone, if something goes wrong I won’t let you get hurt. Tell Jimin, if I don’t return, to go to the waterfall.”

“Y/n?” Taehyung spoke worriedly and you smiled, waving him off. He reluctantly left you to speak with the men in suits.

“Hello Gentleman, what can I do for you?” You smiled.

“We spoke with the higher ups, they don’t want humans down here.” The man said. “I am sorry, I am going to have to take you back up, you can’t stay down here.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you gestured to the elevator and when they turned to it, you ran into the forest, hoping for shelter in the dense trees. However, from the loud gunshots and the stabbing heat in your side, you weren’t quick enough. You tried to keep running, you just had to make it to the waterfall. Jumping off the cliff and landing in the water, you felt the pain radiate through you at the impact, and you took a deep breath and swam under the water into the tunnel to the cave.

Once inside, you dragged your form out of the water and laid on the smooth rock, waiting for help. You grew cold as the night fell and you were losing hope. You held on as long as you could, but eventually, you fell unconscious.

The cold was replaced with warmth, a pleasant heat that took away the pain. You felt it fill you until you felt like you were in a little incubator. You felt tingling sensations in your chest, stomach, head, eyes, ears, everything felt like you were floating.

When you woke, you were still in the cave and Jimin was sitting there, his hands outstretched and glowing over your stomach. His chest was shaking and even though his eyes were closed you saw the tears dripping, and heard his sniffles. You reached out, surprised that you didn’t feel pain, and sitting up, you saw your wound had healed.

“Jimin,” you called, and he blinked, looking at you relieved, lunging for you to give you kisses, his hands buried in your hair. His thumb brushed affectionately by your ear and you pulled back surprised. There was this feeling in your chest and stomach, a fluttering sensation just from him brushing your ear. “What is it?”

“Well, I um, I haven’t ever healed a human before, my power heals injured elves to the optimum elvish form. And well, it healed your body to the ultimate elvish form,” he said slowly and you shivered, the feeling still tingling from touching your ear. “I am sorry.”

“Wait, so I am an elf?” you asked, examining his expression for any form of jest or lie, but there was none; he was serious. You tried to process it further: what did this mean, being an elf? “So I am an elf?”

He nodded, you were so shocked you couldn’t formulate your thoughts and feelings into any further actual questions. “Your body is now elf.”

“So I have pointed ears,” you tried to address the obvious and then you asked the question you were most scared about, “will I age differently?”

“You will live the life span of an elf, so several thousands of years, your body will act like an elf, grow habits like an elf,” he bowed his head lower, “I am so sorry, you are no longer an Almighty.”

“Don’t be sorry, this way we can live out our lives together at the same pace.” You kissed him, rubbing your nose to his affectionately, “I am sure I can learn everything as we go. The most important question is; do you still love me even though I am not special?”

“Not special? You will always be special to me, and honestly your features have been enhanced by the transformation, but not altered. You are still an exotic beauty,” he smiled cheekily. “You could look like a troll and I would still love you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled and the two of you swam from the cave and emerged from the water. It was night time. You took Jimin's hand in yours as you headed for the town. The men were waiting and they raised their guns at you. 

“You cannot stay here, it is time to leave,” the man commanded.

“I can’t leave, I am an elf now,” you raised an eyebrow, “they will notice my differences in aging.”

“We have orders, and if you do not come willingly, we will shoot you.” You didn’t and you froze in pain; amongst the pain, you felt your skin crawl oddly and the muscles contract until you felt something pushing out of your skin. 

It was a painful process, but you were healing yourself and you looked at Jimin who looked worried. 

“I’m not leaving, so you can pack up and get out of here.” You grinned and they nodded, leaving with a warning. 

It was an empty threat as you were never bothered again. With Jimin eternity seemed easy, and you couldn’t wait for the years awaiting you. Falling in love was a fairtrade to never seeing the daylight again.

If you enjoyed this story don’t forget to Like | Reblog so others can enjoy it too.

[bts-fic-collection]

Can you rec some ffs about time traveling? <3

I can! I have a whole time travel au tag, too! :)

Love Beyond Time by AngelsVMin

Rating: T

Pairings: Taehyung/Jimin

Status: Incomplete (Updated 11 Nov 20)

Word count: 13,794

Summary: "You may fall in love with different people in every lifetime but only one will burn your soul forever."

Jimin goes back in time to find his soulmate and fight for his happy ending.

Trick or Treat by wings_fanatic

Rating: T

Pairings: Seokjin/Taehyung

Status: Complete

Word count: 11,627

Summary:  In which Kim Taehyung discovers the hard way that Halloween is not only about trying to destroy your long-term rival (who everyone can see you have a crush on except, for you) in an intense game of trick-or-treating and maybe is just about having fun and being true to your feelings.

Rest with your dream in my dream by curiousJM

Rating: E

Pairings: Jungkook/Jimin

Status: Complete

Word count: 11,124

Summary:  Jeon Jungkook is a scientist who dreamed of travelling in time all his life. When he finally succeeds in building a functioning time machine, he stumbles into a bar right on his first trip to the year 1927 and meets the mysterious singer Park Jimin. With horror, Jungkook realizes that this is the same person who visits him in his dreams at regular intervals throughout his life.

Six Crises and One Hump by blurryfaced

Rating: E

Pairings: Jungkook/Seokjin

Status: Complete

Word count: 12,895

Summary:  Seokjin fell asleep in 2013 and wakes up in 2020. What's worse, is that everyone's hot.

Time and Tide by fringecity

Rating: G

Pairings: Taehyung/Jimin

Status: Complete

Word count: 11,308

Summary:  Jimin and Taehyung take over the reins of a costume shop that clothes time travellers so they don't look out of place in other time periods. Things go wrong when something from the future comes to find them.

[agustids]

A collection of BTS fanfics that I liked (u know the ❤ button), possibly some are re-read, since 2017. I hope you don’t mind that I like hurting my feelings most of the time with angst stories lol. my back hurts so much after compiling these fics ugh 

Warnings: some fics listed below contains smut (+18), better read the description of the story before proceeding. 

Will only update this masterpost every now and then. I will also set up a post with the stories I read in ao3 soon.

Feel free to suggest me stories that are not in this list <3 

Personal favorites (✬)

Kim Namjoon (k.nj)

➞ Letting Go (ft. p.jm) @bangtan-babe | angst, fluff

Min Yoongi (m.yg)

➞ Carousel ✬ @yoonia | angst, smut, suspense, arranged marriage!au  ➞ Wildest Moments @joonbird | angst, smut ➞ The Tenth Floor (ft. k.th) @notsoguiltykpop | fluff, humor, some angst ➞ Slytherin to my Heart @bangtan-insfired | angst, fluff, hogwarts!au ➞ Lesson Learned @chyubs | fluff  ➞ La Douleur Exquise @cinnaminsvga | fluff, angst, smut, incubus!yoongi ➞ The Wicked Witch @jimlingss | angst, fluff, drama, soap opera!au ➞ 2 am @sunshinejoon | angst ➞ Pipe dreams @chinesesuga | angst, fluff, smut (eventually) ➞ The Crown (ft. j.jk)  @sopewriters | angst ➞ Garden in my heart @army-author | fluff, bad boy!yoongi ➞ I want to be the one you write your love songs about @jiminandlemonade | angst, fluff ➞ Blackthorne Manor ✬ @kpopfanfictrash | gothic romance!au, mystery ➞ Signed in Black @yoon-kooks |  soulmate!au, bad boy!au, fluff, eventually smut ➞ Cool cats (and dogs, too) @gukyi | dad!au ➞ Inheritance @jincherie | hybrid!au ➞ Somebody Else ✬ @jjkthclub | angst, infidelity ➞ Internet Friends  ✬ @etherealino | social media!au, fluff ➞ The Devil Herself @jiminiethot | demon!oc, explicit smut  ➞ Sugar pie, honey bunch! @bangtaninink | sugar daddy!au ➞ Cut me open part 1, part 2 @hayjeon | smut, married, surgeon!au ➞ Camouflage @fairyscribbles | zombie!au ➞ interlude; dream, reality @dat-town | fluff, slice of life ➞ Lethal @analovegirl | explicit smut, fluff ➞ Piano notes @exi-dentally | school!au ➞ Late Bloomer @tayegi | werewolf!au, smut ➞ 72 miles   ✬  @namjoonchronicles | heavy angst, slight fluff   ➞ Black & White @akinnie75 | romance, fluff, slight angst, slow burn ➞ All I want for Christmas @hayjeon | single dad and ceo!yoongi ➞ Bunny Blues (ft. j.jk, k.nj) @httpjeon | hybrid!reader, angst, fluff, future smut ➞ Leave me @itsamejin | cheating, toxic relationship!au, angst ➞ Away from Me ✬  @personasintro | fluff, angst, smut, divorce!au ➞ Droplets @bts-timestories | historical, arranged marriage!au, yandere themes ➞ Goodbye @itsamejin | angst ➞ Heartstring Melodies (ft.j.jk) ✬ @whitesparrows97 | soulmates!au, angst ➞ I feel you in my heart (ft. j.jk)  ✬ @purpletaecup | drama, angst, romance, second chance ➞ Divorce @xjamlessparkx | angst

Park Jimin (p.jm)

➞ Blazing Arrows (ft. j.jk) @kingminie | fluff, angst, future smut, supernatural!au ➞ You are Really Perfect (pt 1), I was afraid to lose you (pt 2) @justtextmeoppa | slight angst, fluff in the end ➞ Neighbour @moonlitjiminn | fluff, romance ➞ The Arrangement @kpoptart216 | angst, arranged marriage!au ➞ I’ll never be her  ✬  @anon-luv | angst, romance  ➞ Chained to you @addicktjimin | tiny angst, fuck boi!jimin ➞ Taste the party (ft. j.jk) @winetae | smut, idol!au ➞ Temporary Bliss  @jjkthclub | angst ➞ Park Jimin @chulobangtan | angst ➞ Over Again @yoonia | pianist!au, artist reader!au, angst, slight smut ➞ A Serpent’s Flower, Sowing a Sapling (sequel)  ✬  | hogwarts professors !au, smut, married   ➞ Better @jeonggukookies | bestfriend!jimin, fluff/slow burn angst ➞ Come Home to me, Darling ✬ @roses-ruby |  cheating!au, angst, smut , fluff  ➞ Opposites Attract @kpopfanfictrash | hogwarts!au, smut ➞ Bloom ✬ @jamaisjoons | hanahaki!au, angst, smut ➞ Charity @inkjam-moon | royalty!au, fluff, light angst, smut ➞  A Sensitivity to Ephemera @akinnie75 | fluff, tragic, slow burn, romance

Kim Taehyung (k.th)

➞ Rent-a-Boyfriend™ @jimlingss | fluff ➞ Strawberry Shortcake (ft. j.jk) @btsinned | smut, angst, fluff, strawberry farmer!taehyung ➞ Pulse  @rohobi | angst, smut, medical!au ➞ Begin Again (ft. m.yg) @writtenyoongi | single parent!au, fluff, angst, sprinkle of smut ➞ Sweetpea (ft. j.jk) @nitaescence | explicit smut, ddlg!au ➞ Silver and blue series @untaemedqueen | werewolf!au ➞ Remember This ✬ @yoohtae | weddingplanners!au, angst

Jeon Jungkook (j.jk)

➞ Baby, My Baby  @pjimims | angst, fluff, parents!au ➞ Flirt (ft. k.th)  @slyscenarios | angst, smut, fuckboy!jk ➞ The Lost Memories  @gujoonim | angst, romance ➞ Daddy Issues  @euphorianyx | smut, fluff, angst ➞ A Story that we paint  @thedefinitionofbts | college!au, future, scifi, slight fluff and angst ➞ The Truth about Forever  @thedefinitionofbts | romance, implied smut, angst, slice of life ➞ Surrender  @infiresjimin | angst, smut ➞ You’ll be okay  @bangtan-babe | angst, fluff ➞ It ain’t me  @inferno-loop | social media!au  ➞ Cherry (ft. k.th)  @esqeon | angst, friends to lovers!au ➞ Attention  @btees | fluff, angst, some smut, college!au ➞ Kalopsia  @erosjeon | fluff, smut, hybrid!jungkook ➞ Hurricane  @planetjeon | angst   ➞ Ice Queen  ✬  @kookmejeon | social media!au   ➞ DNA @btssavedmylifeblr | dystopian smut, future, angst ➞ Lust and Limerence @btsfanficss | angst, fluff, harry potter!au ➞ New Rules ✬  @tayegi | angst, smut, fratboy!jungkook   ➞ The Boy Who Left @gujoonim | angst, ceo!au  ➞ 3:00 AM @oceanjoon | angst, cheating ➞ Image, Bad Boy @kittentaegu |  bad boy!au, angst, fluff, smut ➞ About Time (ft. p.jm) ✬  @yoonia | time leap!au, soulmate!au ➞ Dear Jungkook @fatrainbowmermaidunicorn | angst ➞ Comfort Inn Ending @joonbird | angst, smut ➞ Ego  @suga-kookiemonster | smut ➞ Witch Hazel @yoon-kooks |  fanfic writer!jungkook, idol!reader, college!au, angst, fluff ➞ All in my head @fatrainbowmermaidunicorn | angst w/ happy ending ➞ Mistake (pt 1), Obsessed (pt 2) @whipped-for-kpop-fics | smut, noona kink ➞ Time to let go @mywrittings | angst, bestfriend!au  ➞ Piano Tiles @bobagukk |  angst, fluff, smut; chaebol!jungkook, pianist!y/n ➞ Four Letters (ft. m.yg) ✬ @littlemisskookie | angst, smut, fwb!jungkook, icequeen!reader ➞ Winter Court series (ft. k.th)  ✬ @koyamuses | angst, slowburn, fantasy, romance ➞ Park’s Paradise of Muggle Merchandise @kittae | hogwarts!AU, drabble, ravenclaw!jungkook ➞ Holy hell @arcadeguk | greek mythology!au  ➞ For Science ✬ @boymeetsweevil | nerd!jungkook, smut, angst ➞ Hidden under the covers @yoon-ing | college!au ➞ Puzzle @kimvvantae | smut, angst, comedy, fwb!jungkook ➞ Strike Three ✬ @avveh | explicit smut ➞ Different Paths @taehyungiejiminie95 | angst, ex-bf!jungkook ➞ Fierce and Delicate (pt 1), Felicity (pt 2) ✬  @mintseesaw | smut, angst, fluff, husband!jungkook ➞ The Morning After ✬ @jungkookiebus | smut, fluff   ➞ Secret Slut @jeonsweetpea | smut, ceo!reader, personal assistant!jungkook ➞ Long lost ✬  @gukyi | childhood friends!au, celebrity!au   ➞ Moving On @taeguboi | angst ➞ Low Expectations @vin-taege | angst, eventual smut, l2e2l ➞ Netflix and Chill @badbhye | smut ➞ Rigor Mortis ✬ @readyplayerhobi | smut, angst, horror, fluff, police officer!jungkook   ➞ The Lionheart’s Oath ✬  @sugaxjpg | angst, fluff, smut, fantasy, knight!jungkook   ➞ Freesia @eleventoes | childhood friends to lovers!au, semi-bad boy!jk, fluff ➞ The Turing Test @fortunexkookie | android!au, fluff, explicit smut, angst ➞ Mr and Miss Perfect @kookscript |  hogwarts!au, fluff, angst-ish ➞ Lonely Heart , part 2 @scenarioslovers | married!au, infidelity, angst ➞ (y)our name @jjkpls | fluff, angst, smut ➞ Speak Now @bbangtan-ddaeng | angst, cheating ➞ Navy @jjkfire | childhoodfriend!AU, idol!AU ➞ Vaunt @yminie | explicit smut, frat boy!jungkook ➞ Take a Chance @crystaljins | hanahaki!au ➞ Moirai @taeken-my-heart | soulmates!au, angst, e2l ➞ Blindfold @themfchase | explicit smut, college!au ➞ Bam! you got scammed! @dovechim | explicit smut ➞ Tooth and Claw @johobi | explicit smut, werewolf!au ➞ Full Stop @1oserjk | divorce!au, angst ➞ Blizzard, part 2 ✬  @curly-bangtan | romance, smut, dosmetic!au ➞ Growing Pains @rkiverse | fluff, angst, quarterback!jungkook ➞ Monster @btssmutgalore | frat boy!jungkook, explicit smut ➞ Bandslam @ironicarmy | band!au, smut, e2l ➞ Young God @njssi | smut, nonidol!au, brother’s best friend!au ➞ Falling into you @kookingtae | college!au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd!jk  ➞ Rough Edges @kjhmyg | badboy!jungkook, explicit smut ➞ On my mind @angelguk | fluff, smut, domestic!au ➞ Worst of You @oureuphoria | fluff, angst, comedy, police officer!jungkook ➞ Bunny Troubles @appreciatethefoolishness |  fluff, future smut, hybrid!jungkook ➞ Rattled series ✬ @gukslut | singledad!jungkook, angst, smut, romance ➞ He won’t know @jgukmilk | cheating!au, smut, slight, angst ➞ Number Neighbor @sevenforeverbulletproof | social media!au ➞ One year, my love ✬ @hayjeon | historical!au, fluff, angst, smut ➞ You belong with me @joonscroll | angst, fluff ➞ Chasing pavements ✬ @guklvr | dad!jungkook, f2l, angst, unrequited feelings au, sad stuff, future smut ➞ To tame a god ✬ @jeonstudios | fantasy, werewolf!au ➞ Broken Dreams @ddaenysus | soulmate!au, angst, unrequited love ➞ Through the night @nightbts |  fluff, angst, idol! au, friends to lovers!au ➞ Effortlessly @gyukult | fluff, smut, romance ➞ Crybaby @lavishedinjimin | explicit smut, somewhat a ddlg!au ➞ Still with you @ddaengqyu | angst, fluff, idol!au ➞ Rebound (ft. k.th) @btssaysstudy | angst ➞ I want a baby @codenameskye | angst ➞ Somewhere only we know ✬ @userseok | hybrid!au, angst ➞ Aphrodite in war @jungblue | comedy, angst, eventual smut ➞ Easy @itsamejin | angst, fluff, fuck boi!jungkook ➞ Tell me no lies @jeongi |  ceo!jungkook, angst, smut, minimal fluff ➞ After I left you @latetaektalk |  exes! AU, fake dating! AU, enemies to lovers-ish! AU, unrequited feelings-ish! AU, angst, fluff ➞ Fine Line @voidswan-main | fuck boi!jungkook ➞ Heart of the Storm @ladyartemesia | fluff, smut, hint of angst ➞ Come back to me ✬ @bonnyskies | angst, sexual themes, idol!au, marriage!au, parents!au ➞ Good Girl @bonny-kookoo | mild ddlg!au, smut, fluff, little angst ➞ Love to hate you @latetaektalk | angst, fluff, sexual themes, fake dating!au ➞ Lonely hearts club @dovechim | e2l, smut ➞ Tiger lily @v-hope |  fluff, slight angst, smut, college!au ➞ Alpha Jeon @pbandjk | werewolf!au ➞ Claws of carnality @jjungkooksthighs | smut, werewolf!au ➞ Your eyes tell ✬ @njkbangtan | soulmates!au, angst ➞ All over you @zibermuda |  smut, e2l, nerd!jk ➞ I hate you, I love you @jungblue | angst, smut ➞ Hand in the Kookie jar @mama-m0chi | bbf / baby daddy!jungkook, smut ➞ Zoom Call @1kook | fluff, slice of life, smut ➞ The dark prince @jkeuphoriadreamland | yandere, royalty!au, smut, angst ➞ Stolen dances ✬ @taeyohonic | bestfriend!jungkook, my bestfriend’s wedding ➞ Ego killer @zibermuda | smut, e2l, fuck boi!jk  ➞ From home @gyukult | fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut ➞ Confident @h0neypjm | smut, fluff, angst, college au, fuck boi!jungkook ➞ Dire @whatifyoulivelikethat | smut, werewolf!au ➞ Please love me ✬ @ahundredtimesover | angst, arranged marriage!au, smut ➞ Evolution of a lover’s heart @jeonstudios | fluff, angst, fuck boi!jungkook ➞ Decalcomania ✬ @koyalov | angst, fluff, idol!au ➞ Almost home ✬ @angelguk | dad!jungkook, angst ➞ Delivery boy @pbandjk | angst, fluff, smut, becoming parents!au ➞ Magic Shop @njkbangtan | childhood best friends to lovers, drama, angst, fluff, slow burn ➞ [Your] love’s the only hoax I believe in @sparklingchim | angst, smut, fuck boi!jungkook ➞ Stem major!koo x cold senior!y/n ✬ @jiminrings | bullet fic, fluff, angst ➞ Spellbound to be @rosaetae |  vampire!jungkook, fantasy!au, soulmate!au, angst ➞ Lost Stars @rookiegukie | fluff, angst, roommates!au, e2l ➞ Lovefool @citrustan | angst, smut, fluff ➞ An ode to a broken heart @smoochkooks | unrequited love, heavy angst, eventually smut ➞ Anemoia @vantaenims | futuristic!au, fluff, mystery ➞ Once upon a bracelet @ladyartemesia | fantasy, soulmates!au, e2l ➞ The fact is @bangtanreadingcorner | romance ➞ Deus ex machina ✬ @readyplayerhobi | angst, android!jungkook ➞ Aquarium @whatifyoulivelikethat | heavy angst, cheating, non-idol!au ➞ The alchemy of amor @army-author | fluff, fantasy!au, e2l ➞ Drown for you ✬ @jeonstudios | merman/siren!jungkook, angst, fluff, smut ➞ Granite glow ✬ @namjoonchronicles | slice of life, videographer jungkook au, marriage au, angst, fluff ➞ Orange Tulips @kainks | soulmate!au, reincarnation!au, fluff, angst, light smut ➞ Cotton Candy @velocitae | fluff, slight angst, slight smut, werewolf!jungkook ➞ Strings  @minsuxga | soulmates!au, angst

➞ Hotbot @httpjeon | angst, fluff, smut