#jungkook x reader fantasy au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chimcess · 5 days ago

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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 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.”

Taglist: @fancypeacepersona @ssbb-22 @mar-lo-pap @sathom013 @kimyishin

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7brownsuga7 · 9 months ago

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The God who answers after dark ☆ The intro:

Summary: You used to pray to the Gods after dark before you went to sleep, always thinking that you were praying to the good kind. The kind that showed mercy. However you were mistaken, as time passes and you grew older and wiser it will be revealed that your prayers were answered, but not by the Gods you thought you knew, but the dark kind. The kind that your grandmother used to warn you about. Ones you hear in stories. The kind that you should fear, but how can you when it's all you know. How can you when he was the only one who answered?

Tags&warnings: Jungkookxfemreader, mostly fluff I guess, a bit of smut if you would call it that?!?? age gap I guess?!!? Jungkook is obsessed with reader, a bit delusional. Slight manipulation???! MDNI!!!

Word count: 3k+

Note: making this into a series🫶🏽 this is just a little something that I wrote when I was bored. Be prepared for more obsessive and possessive Jungkook!

Was inspired by the book invisible life of Addie-Larue

The God who answers after dark ☆ series master list: Here ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was dark.

The night creating shadows in the corner of your room, allowing your imagination to run wild, creating things scary to imagine.

You wasn’t scared though, because you knew it was your imagination. And because you’ve experienced something way darker. You invited him into your home with a simple whisper, let him talk to you throughout the many dark nights, telling him your dreams and wishes of a better life where you are happy and loved.

You was always an imaginative child. While you watched others make friends, you created your own, that grew along with you. Who only came out at night.

You first called upon him when you were only seven. Mindlessly talking to the open air. You had wanted a friend. A friend you could talk to, play with, share secrets with. So you stared off into the dark and talked about nothing and everything. However, when you saw the shadows in the corner of your room move, and sit before you did you realise that you summoned something else. Not a friend, not an imaginary one, something much darker. Still you spoke to it, and it spoke to you like rough winds in the cool night. It comforted you like a cool breeze in a summers heat.

You found comfort in him. You would mindlessly tell him your dreams. He would make empty promises of giving you that dream felt life. Empty, because they came with a price that you were not willing to pay for. Still he would sit beside you and listen to your stories and dreams.

You had asked him what his dreams were and he had told you that he was the son of a God - he had none, but he could grant them within due time. When he himself became a God. So he settled with telling you stories about Gods and wars. Desperate souls and deals. The kind his father spoke to him about, the kind he experienced himself.

Then, he was an angel, the son of a God he refused to speak of. Now, he is a God himself, the God of Darkness. Like the type you’d find deep in a forest, hidden behind the shadows of the trees, infused within the night that covers the sky like a blanket. Comforting to some, suffocating for others.

You was a child who had a lot to wish for and no control of your imagination back then. His company grew on you so much that he was like an accessory to your room. Like a cushion that decorated your bed, a small plant that had a home on your desk, a stack of books that rested in a pile on your bedside table. He felt like home.

The man that would sit before you, appearance created from your imagination - answered you everytime you called on him. He was always there with you. When you looked out of your window at night, when you wrote in your diary about the stories he’d tell you. In your dreams. He was always there.

It was dark.

So you did what you’ve always done when the lights went out, and people lay deep asleep. The night silent and still.

You called for him.

“Yes my love?” He appeared from the dark corner of your room. Once a shadow, now a man that sat before you on your bed. The only bit of light was the shine from the moon and the small warm lamp next to your bed.

You always expect the bed to shift as he sits down, but his weight is like a feather held in one’s palm. Light and weightless. Proof that the form you see before you is none other than what he has stolen from your imagination. His true form something like a stream in the night. Dark and shallow.

His lean body presented in a white button up shirt and black slacks. Very simple, but styled so well. He was always so well presented, dressed so elegantly. You knew that that wasn’t your imagination that created the fine attire, it was simply him, the Darkness who was a charmer, who had lived many years before you. Of course he’d picked up some style on the way.

“I want to be loved” you spoke out, tone delicate like a whisper, too embarrassed, too afraid.

“Y/n my dear, you are loved by many. Your mother adores you, friends cherish you, need I say more?” His eyes match his soul, dark and intense, yet they still seem to be so warm, inviting. It’s either that or his voice that draws you in. So soothing yet so deep. Like a calm ocean that holds many depth below.

“Not that kind of love. I want to be loved by a man. I want to feel that type of love I read in books and see in movies. The type of love my grandparents have. The type of love that won’t make me feel so alone anymore”

He chuckles a beautiful melody.

You always surprised him. The things you’d speak and dream of so bizarre yet so intriguing. Out of all the souls who begged for his help and all the humans he’s encountered, you’re the one that amused him most. A girl who asked and wished for so much, yet all she needed to do was look in the mirror and realise her worth, her power.

But he of all people knew that wishes were easy to slip from one’s lips. Words slide out of people’s mouths just as easy as a balloons string slips out of a child’s hand, so effortlessly. People are so careless when it comes to words. If only they knew the power it holds.

Wishes, prayers. They were all the same to him. It didn’t matter because they both had the same outcome, the same deal, the same promise, the same fate and the same desperation. The person was always begging and pleading in the end, too desperate to have their prayers answered to form a logical sentence, and to understand a twisted deal.

“You are not alone my love. I am here, I’ve always been here. I am the breeze that embraces you in the night, the darkness that lulls you to sleep. I am here. And you are loved.”

“You are not a man, even if you choose to be in this moment.” Your words are harsh, yes, but that’s what he loved about you. You were honest with him, you weren’t afraid.

“I can be the darkness of the night, a friend when you need company, I can be a man…”

When you make no move to respond to him, he rolls his eyes and sighs. “But before all of that I am a God. A God that answers wishes, say the words and I’ll give it to you, for a price”

This isn’t the first time he’s said this, and this isn’t the first time you’ve asked for something. But it always ends up with the same outcome, an offer of a sacrifice that you refuse. And then the whole interaction is swept away in the night, forgotten.

“Im not sacrificing my soul to you”

“My dear, you’ve called upon me countless of times, I’ve stayed by your side for years, you must know by now that you’re mine. I may not have your soul entirely, but yours is bound with mine, through shared memories and dreams, nights and years.”

“Don’t you get tired of chasing something that doesn’t belong to you? That will never be yours?”

“I have patience” is the only thing he says before he changes the subject back to your previous wish.

“I’d love to help you. You know I always do. But you should know by now that I can’t just give you that. I can’t just muster up a man for you that will make love to you. You want me to grant your wish of being loved by a man, that I can’t do, but like I said, I can be a lot of things.”

His hand reaches out to touch your jaw, thumb caressing it. His touch light, smooth. And despite everything, you wish he would touch you more, so you lean into his touch.

“I can be a God, an Angel, a Devil, a Human. Whatever you’d like me to be, as long as I am yours and you are mine”

“That’s not the type of love I’m talking about” your voice is shaky, unsure of what you want. What you need.

“Oh isn’t it? All those nights you would touch yourself to images of me… where you would talk to yourself about wanting to be touched. Those days where you would listen to all your friends stories about being with another, being touched by another. You envy them. You want to be loved in a way that has your skin littered with goosebumps, chills running down your spine” his fingers brush along your collarbone and you feel a shiver come across your body.

You think back to the nights where you would dream of his fingers against your skin. Light, cool and delicate.

“You must know by now that your body is mine. Your mind, your heart, your soul. Stop wasting your time being stubborn and let me give you what you want. The love you hope for, a world where you’re happy, things go your way. I can give you all of that if you would just be mine”

You hate the fact that he’s partially right. You have dreamt about him and thought of many nights where he would lay you in bed and take you as his. It was one of your dark fantasies that you never spoke of, you couldn’t , not to him.

Just as much as you were, he was stubborn. And as a God that always gets his way, he hates being told no.

“I see you’re making it a habit of calling me yours. You may be a God, but I don’t belong to you. I won’t”

“Within due time”

You don’t say anything else, instead you focus on the stillness of the room. The way his presence is so strong, the way you feel relaxed around him.

“You want me to grant your wish of being loved by a man? I can’t give that to you if you don’t sacrifice, but I can show you how to be loved, y/n. I can show you what it feels like to be touched” his hand brushes the side of your face. His eyes pouring into yours, if you didn’t know his games you would almost fall for his tricks. Almost.

“Is this how you get people to give you their souls? Is this one of your twisted games? I give you my body and you take my soul as a keepsake.” Your breath is shaky as his touch takes over your body, so intense, so wrong but so right.

“I don’t just want your soul y/n. I want your heart, I want your touch, I want your love and your word that you will be mine.”

“You aren’t capable of feeling those things. you’re n-“

“Not human, I know. You’ve told me many times” his fingers brush along your thigh. “But when you have lived amongst humans and dealt with them for as long as I have, you begin to understand real emotions. I’m more human than you’ll ever know ”

His lips brush along your earlobe. “Let me show you”

He lays you down on the bed, hovering over you.

“No man on earth can give you what I can give you. I’ll take their souls if they tried. I can give you the world, the luxury of never having to worry about anything. A life of happiness, a life of freedom. If only you would let me have you”

He spoke so much about making things happen. He could make things happen with the click of his finger. And you wondered if he ever manipulated you in anyway. And why he hasn’t so far. If he really wanted you like he said he does, then why doesn’t he use his power to get you?

He spoke so softly in your ear, his voice like a blanket of silk. You don’t realise that you have yet again leaned in to him. Drawn in by his words, the way he spoke them so effortlessly and so passionately.

“You have me, I’m here right now” you give up your fight and give in to what your body craves.

Your eyes flutter close as you let yourself escape in everything that is him.

Just like when you were a child, you use your imagination to create your own little world. Just you and him for the moment.

You’re lost in his earthy scent. The night sky drawn around you like a blanket, protecting you. A sense of freedom as you seep into the darkness of the night that is him. But when you open your eyes you see more than just the darkness. You see the stars in the night. His eyes mimicking the galaxy as he watches you with so much want.

There in that moment is when you realised how powerful he was. How powerful his words were, his presence was. And his touch…

His touch that had your body reacting in ways you never knew it could.

His touch light, like a cool embrace of the wind.

Except your skin is like the sun, setting your skin on fire as his hands caress your body. You hate that your body reacts so easily to his touch. But over anything else, you hate how he knows your body when you don’t even know it yourself.

He knows just where to touch you, just where you crave another’s touch.

Just where to touch to have the hairs on your body stand up. Eager for more.

His face is in the crook of your neck lightly running his lips along the service, just before he litters small pecks to it. He smells you, breathes you in, humming in the process.

“I’m so full of everything I can have in life, and yet I still crave you”

You shiver when he pauses just by your earlobe.

“What are you doing to me my love?”

You both lock eyes for a second, the world stopping in the moment that is just yours. You don’t answer him. He seems elated with just watching you anyways.

“You’ll let me have you?”

You hold your breath, unsure of what to say. Yes because you want him to take you here right now, but you know how sneaky he can be, you’re afraid that your words would be used against you.

When you make no move to speak, he smirks against your skin and whispers, “Smart girl, I’ve taught you well.”

He takes no time in playing with the lace of your panties. You feel wetness stick to the fabric, something that started once he laid his fingers on you.

He’s always been good with his fingers. One night he played you a song on your guitar, his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings. In this very moment you feel like an instrument. The way his fingers work on you, you creating sounds so melodic you don’t even recognise yourself. The way he holds you so gently as one would with their instrument. You’re not afraid when you’re with him. There’s no need to be when he holds and touches you so gently.

His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks to you. His fingers working inside of you making your back arch and toes curl. Your fingers grab your sheet, mind going crazy because you know you shouldn’t be doing this. This is crazy and it’s not like you at all. And with him?

“You’re so stubborn. Why won’t you be mine? Look how your body is reacting to me. The moment I made myself present, your breathing changed rhythm and heart increased pace. You don’t think I know how you feel?”

You release a pathetic moan. A desperate one that has you cringing with embarrassment because of how needy you sound.

He leans in towards the crook of your neck with a low, “hmm?”

You look away. Too embarrassed and too in awe at the way he’s making you feel - making you act.

“Look at me”.

You find the courage to look at him. His fingers that work inside of you have your pussy creating sounds you never knew it could. You take deep breaths, slight frown on your face as your body’s taken over by the pleasure.

“You’re so wet for me. So needy.”

He continues to watch you with half-lidded eyes. Taking in the moment. Taking in everything that is you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into it.

You’ve given yourself to him in this moment - not entirely as he had hoped, but having his way with you in this point in time is more than enough.

He takes you there on your bed. The same place you would speak to him every night, dream of him every occasion.

He’s gentle, careful. His motions precise, enough to have your breath stuck in your throat.

Your mind has been lost in the darkness that is him. You don’t even want to find it.

He’s hovered over you, your legs wrapped around him. Kisses given with each thrust.

He speaks beautiful words to you, hand caressing your face every now and then.

And in this moment you’re sure you’re making love. Even though you know it can’t be because you both know nothing of the sort, but this is exactly how it feels like.

You reach a hand out to him, brushing back his dark stringy locks that fall in front of his face.

He kisses you with so much passion, speaks to you with words that has your heart aching for more.

In this moment you almost give him your word. Your life, your soul. Your head clouded by this intense emotion, a feeling that you can’t grasp. He’s taken you to a whole different universe, mind lost in everything that is him.

You almost give him your word, almost.

And when he brings you to your climax you sink deeper into him, into his embarace. Letting your body infuse with his.

You both lay there in silence for a while until he voices, “Even if you deny it. I’ve given you my word that I’ll stick by your side. There’s no getting rid of me”

You don’t need to ask him about what he means.

You know.

His fingers caress your skin as you close your eyes, letting his words fill the air.

“A soul as beautiful and pure as yours is a soul to wait a lifetime for. And I’ve got a lot of time”

And when you open your eyes, you’re met with nothing but the darkness of your room.

The God who answers after dark ☆

- mimi ☆

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keen-li · 1 year ago

Text

PREDESTINED

Mortal/commer jk x goddess reader

Jk x fem reader.

Fantasy au

Wc: 4.1k

Oneshot

☆☆☆

You release a moan at how the water touches your body and how the bubbles of heat tickle your breasts. You hum your beautiful melodies, your melodious voice calling out to all the little night lights that luminate your night bath. Your body glows and causes the pool you're in and anything you touch to glow. You continue to rub your smooth and soft skin when you hear a rustle in the bushes behind you. No one and absolutely no one is allowed in your forest inclosed pool. Not even the servants. Anyone who dares to trespass your territory by your guarantee will be banished. There's only one person allowed, he's the main reason why you have this place enclosed. It's the only place where you to can meet freely. And so you already know that it's him

"You shouldn't be here" you say with a smile. Legally he shouldn't be here but personally you're glad he's here.

"I'm to be married tomorrow"

You can hear the cling of his belt and the his trousers hit the floor. By the sound alone you feel yourself clench. You don't have to be a genius to know how he's feeling. "And that's why im here..." his husky voice speaks.

"...to give you a goodbye" you hum at his words and see the ripples caused by the entrance of his body into the water. And in a second he's standing in front of you, muscles and tattoos on show for you. You've always loved his tattoos especially the effect you had on them.

"This is no goodbye, jeon" your hand touches his as your fingers trace the muscles of his chest. When your hand traces his tattoos, each little inked pattern begins to light up. You loved that and so did he, telling by the smile on his face as he watches his tattoos light up. "I love when you do that"

"I love to do it" your hands leave his now fully glowing tattoos and he takes the moment to take your hand in his. He places a kiss on your hand eyes still on yours.

"love your hands and the power they have" kiss. "the power they have on me" kiss. "on my mind" kiss, "and on my heart"

"And wont say where else..but you know"

He winks at you making you blush. His hands trace your hips feeling your curves. It took him sometime to get used to the power your body emits, but he's like a pro now, knowing how to hold and handle your body. Its like your power has become used to his touch and hold. You certainly have. You give into his touch immediately moving your neck to allow his lips to make a move. and they do. They're soft and gentle against your skin. If you could you'd pull him even closer into your body by his waist.

Your voice gives in to his contact. You whine at each touch. "its like you've got a spell on me, y/n" he says against your skin.

"you dare call my name, jeon" you say seriously but you're everything but serious.

He chuckles "should I shy away from calling my love's name?" he stops his kisses to look into your bright eyes.

"a goddess's name"

"my wife's name" you scoff at that. His fingers tickle your waist knowing your follow up statement. "kookie I can't be your wife" just by the way you his name electricity is sent to his crotch.

"you can be if you just get the tattoo" you know what he means he's been telling you ever since he knew his love for you that you should get the tattoo, but its not that easy. He already has your name tattooed on his. Right on his heart, magically, and on his left chest peck, physically. You knew all you had to do in order to be married to jungkook is if you got the tattoo, but its hard for you. You're timed to be married to someone else tomorrow and your family would never allow a god like you to be married to a mortal like him,

That's what your father said when you brought the idea to him. He even threatened to banish the mortal who had caused you thoughts like that. And after that you pushed away all thoughts of introducing jungkook. You knew it was never fated for a mortal and a god to be intertwined, but you swear you and jungkook's names are written in gold side by side and hearts tied by the red strings of fate. you believe its true and so does he.

"you know its not that easy" you say and sigh. Jungkook knows how hard this is for you, its also hard for him. The thought of being banished is scary but the thought of having you taken away from him is terrifying. he never wants that to happen and he's not gonna let it, whether because of the man you're to marry or because of your father.

"if you just get my name tattooed, you won't be able to marry him" he tries to convince you. "jungkook" you whine and each time you call his name it physically pulls at his heart where you engraved your name.

"baby" he whines back and his whimpery tone causes your core to throb. "if you dont want to I underst-" he says completely honest.

"no, I want to. I want to so badly" your face falls after your statement.

"im just scared..for you" he knew you were. But you didn't need to, and even though he can't compete with the gods, he'd rather be banished than live a life where he can't be with you. And he always wants to show you that. You give in to the touch of his palm on your cheek as you hum feeling his warmth. He stares warmly into your eyes as they stare back, if he wasn't already used to it, he'd go blind from the stars that shine in your eyes. Literally.

"remember when I first met you?" he asks and you nod.

"you were so stupid, how could you cross the garden? You could've been killed" you slap his chest playfully. Your slaps no longer feel like thunder claps now that he's used to them.

"I could've but I didn't, and I never will" he shows you his cheeky grin.

"don't be so cocky"

"speaking of-" he says his eyes dropping to his crotch, your eyes follow his vision and you chuckle.

"fine I'll do it"

"do what? My cock?" you slap his arm.

"no... The tattoo. I'll do it" he looks at you to see if you're serious and you are, you genuinely want to.

"What? afraid you might have to live life without my cock?" you want to slap his arm but he catches it at your wrist and grins at you. You cheekily smirk back.

"Maybe" you shrug "but mostly afraid of living without you"

"Aaa. You're so cute my goddess" he squints his eyes and grabs his chest feigning to be in pain. You're cute little laughter brings him back.

"why don't we change the mood. It's our last day together"

"its not, you need to stop joking about that"

"I'm sorry" he pecks your lips. "let me apologize" he says his lips now by your ears and his hands hooking behind your thighs.

He lifts you and soon enough your core meets his.

"Fuck, you feel so good " he curses

"don't curse around me jeon" you can barely say by the way he's rolling into you.

...

You sit drenched in gold and jews on a throne that costs more than the lives of the people sitting below you tripled. You never liked sitting in elevated positions and degrading the commers with the way you're towering over them. But your father always said you should do so to remind them of your power and glory. you were never one to feel validation from power and glory, it never impacted you in that manner. Its hard staring into the eyes of the happy crowd knowing the event that is going to occur but what makes it worse is staring into the eyes of your lover while your 'husband' is sat next to you in his own throne. And unlike you he definitely likes the power and glory.

Jungkook is sat straight in line with your vision and he doesn't move his eyes away from you, not even once. You on the other hand keeped on shying away from his burning gaze and when you do he whipsers your name and says how beautiful you look and how your husband-to-be is ugly. he knows when he whipsers your name you can't ignore him and you hear all he says, it's like a prayer. It reminds you of the first time you taught him how to reach you directly.

"Just whisper it gently and passionatly" you say legs swing froma tree as he pays close attention to you. "I don't like it when people yell or say it aggressively." he notes down your likes and dislikes. Mentally and physically.

"you dont have to carry a physical note book to note down, jeon" you say to the man next to you.

"I want to remember everything, so that even if old age catches me and I cant remember anything I can always look back and remember" he turns his face from his book to face you with his warm and cute doe eyes. You love his eyes and unlike him you're not able to hold contact with them, its like their power overpowers yours. He's eyes have and unspeakable power that have captured you since the first day.

"You wont forget, kookie" a nickname he gave you gave to call him. "and I'll never let old age catch you" he chuckles at that as he feels your hand on his cheek. In an event where you to ended up together forever, because of his humanly fate, he'd grow old and die. While you live forever with your everlasting immaculate beauty. it was a sad fact for him but he accepted it. Atleast he gets to live his entire life with you. Even though you Suggested making him immortal, he declined. He never wanted to be with you so that he could be immortal, some moratls would call him foolish for saying no but they don't understand, they don't understand what he feels. He's not here to use you he just to be with you for however long he can.

"Let me make you immortal" you say so passionately hoping he says yes this time. "take it as my gift to you for bringing such joy into my life"

There you go speaking gibberish again, he thinks "i don't need a gift for making you happy, you're a gift for me already" he says and his eyes do sorcery on you, enchanting you not to argue with what he's said.

"I love you and I want to spend this little humanly life I have with you, not arguing about me becoming immortal" you can't argue with him. And all you can do is place a passionate kiss onto his lips which he happily accepts.

Somewhere in jungkook he knew the reason why he didn't want to become immortal, was the fear of living forever with her father's wrath for taking his daughter.

"And now we are gonna have the gift ceremony" the voice of the officient draws you out of your wonders. The gift ceremony is where offerings are given to the couple and even though you're gods and their gifts are meaningless, in value of course but you still appreciate the fact that people give them to you even though you know they do it to get blessings. It's an important part of the process and even though you don't like it you have to do it.

You watch people in the queue present their offerings. Some to you and some to the man next to you, you bless them as they do so. You scoff at how the man next to you feeds off the offerings of the people, that's one of the reasons you love jungkook. He's a selfless man, he doesn't feed off the power and glory. You remember the time he saved a litte bird and set it back in it's nest after you fixed its broken wing. Even though he never had any magical powers he did his best to help others.

"you don't need magical powers to be a good person" he once said to you. And you always smile at the memory.

Speaking of smiling, you watch jungkook smile in the queue as he aproaches quickly. You keep your eyes on him as you wonder what gift he could possibly give you.

Soon enough its his turn and you watch as he bows for you, something you never wanted him to do, but he always insisted. He lays down his gift.

"I hope you like my gift and can bless me adequately" he says as though he didn't just fuck you blind yesterday. His head is bowed to you and his knees on the the golden floor. When you catch his gift you gasp.

Oh jeon what have you done, do you not care for your life. You say in your mind. And like he can hear your thoughts he whipsers your name and speaks. "you are my life"

The ashes of a golden phoenix, given to a goddess on her wedding day by her husband. A symbol for the new golden life that will rise from the ashes. It's a gift only given by gods cause no human and afford the golden ashes of a golden phoenix. This gift is only given once and shows the enternal union between the giver and the receiver, if the receiver accepts.

"what type of gift is this?" the man seated next to you exclaims angrily. "how dare you give my wife a gift I'm meant to give her? How can you afford the ashes of a golden phoenix" at this point people start to stare and whisper at the scene.

"He must be a thief" he accuses. You watch jungkook's body which is still bowed to you. You cant believe he actually risked his life like this. Stupid mortal. Jungkook chuckles like he isn't being yelled at by a god and at risk of death.

"You dare laugh?" he dares to strike but you stop him.

"Leave him" everyone stares at you with surpise.

"Why should I leave someone who dares to discredit my honour and glory"

Fuck your honour and glory, you dont deserve it. Jungkook is the one who deserves to be seated in that seat, you want to say but you can't instead you keep it in your heart.

"I say leave him cause he's just a foolish and stupid mortal who doesn't know what he's doing" you say and jungkook's head lifts to finally meet your eyes. There is truth in your statement but its not as harsh as you say it, and jungkook knows he can see it in your eyes that avoid his. He knows what he's doing.

"And its not like im going to accept it anyways, he probably stole it from the poor phoenix. I don't accept stolen gifts" you finally meet his eyes and he can hear lies you're telling.

The man seems to have relaxed by your reassurance. "Fine I wont punish him because of my wife's mercy"

You and jungkook gag at that internally. "But wont you bless me?" jungkook asks you confidently.

"The nerves, you dare ask her to bless you after the scene you have just caused you." he spits at jungkook. "its her duty t-"

"Fine ill bless you" you say stopping jungkook from ruining his chance at life. "What would you like me to bless you for" jungkook smiles at the opportunity you've given him

"I ask that fate may always be on me and my lover's side" your heart pulls at his request. What is jungkook doing, he could've taken this chance to free himself from you and the danger you carry for them. He could've gone in to find maiden who he would spend the rest of his life with and have children with, even if it hurts you its better for him. But he's so stubborm. He's a very attractive man no maiden would say no to him. So why doesn't he just go that route.

I don't want to go into road where you won't be.

"it is done" you say, and it surely is done.

You don't know how to feel, a part of you wishes jungkook could have just gone away to a better life, but then another part of you knows a better life is when you're with him.

Jungkook knows the consequences, the risk, the challenge. he knows it all and he still wants to be with you as he said nothing is going to stop him not even you and your attenpt to push him away by not accepting the gift. He didn't do all this for nothing, he's not going to let his efforts go into water. And lucky for him fate is on his side even though you don't want to accept it, worrying about what will happen.

"What do you mean his name won't write" your father asks the officiant his voice thunderous at the revelation. Everyone is in a panic and in a shock, your mother, your father and your never-gonna-be husband. Even the people are whispering and gossiping theories. But you arent surprised. Jungkook is not surprised. You knew this would happen you expected it.and your heartbeat grew strong as the moment drew closer amd Jungkook's smile grew wider. People were gonna know who you were fated with.

"His name cannot be written for fate has written another's name" the white bearded officiant speaks. Fate is never wrong and there are no take backs with fate. What fate decides is what's gonna be and even if you try to run from it fate will bring you back to what's destined for you, even if it takes a million more tries.

"Who's name?" your father asks angry from this embarrassment.

"It's a mortal" you can hear a thousand plus gasps in the hall "his name is jun-" it's like he's taking his time saying it on purpose, when he gives you a look you immediately turn to the crowd scared eyes meetng jungkook. You know what's gonna happen when they find out the name of the mortal and so before he says his name. You immediately scream.

"JUNGKOOK GO!" Your voice thunders in the hall. And he does. He goes, to where? he doesn't know but he knows you'll know and you'll find him.

Just as the crowd opens up so jungkook can run out your father screams for thunder. But jungkook is protected not by you, but by yor mother's power and the part of you that's in him.

You turn to your mother who rushes to grab you from the chaos. She takes you to the open room, where all official meeting are held.

"is he -" she knows what your worry is.

"He's gonna be perfectly fine" she comforts you. And you begin to weep and you're glad you have your mother's arms to fall into. She understands and knows your pain, she to was once in love with a mortal, unlucky for her fate was not on her side but love was, it wasn't enough and he died.

"where is it?" your father walks in yelling "where is the tattoo that bound you to that mortal" you shiver under your mother's hold as your father grabs your arm to pull you from your mother. Which he does. "I will srcap it myself" he says to you coldly and you don't expect more from him. "if I have to I will cut the limb its on... NOW WHERE IS IT?" he says starting to tear the sillk covering your body. You cant do much apart from scream and try and stop him.

"you cant disobey fate!" Your mother exclaims and he drops your hand now approaching your mother who doesn't coward from him.

"i don't care about fate, I am a god and I'm more powerful than fate" he exclaims. "my word is fate"

"And after I scrap that tattoo off her, she'll be married to Min-ho" you sob even more your cries causing a storm outside. And whereever jungkook is , he knows by the way the thunder roars and the lighting strikes he can tell what you feel. Anger, fear and sadness. He wishes badly to be with you but your mother warned him he should go away for a while. And she promised to help him when the time is right.

"Where is it ?" he asks and you try to collect your thoughts.

Before he can ask you again you speak "my heart..." you speak finally saying where it is.

"You let a mortal engrave on your heart?" he's pissed and you can tell but you aren’t afraid of him. All you're thinking about is jungkook. Is he okay?, is he safe, is he even alive? "a mortal?" he asks again. He knows a mortal does not contain enough power (or any at all) to engrave on a god's heart.

"He's not a mortal" both you and your father turn to your mother who speaks. "He's not a mortal" she repeats.

"What do you mean?" he asks and you too pay attention to her as you wonder what she means. "you made that idiot immortal" his anger is now moving to your mother, but she doesn't fear him.

"No I didn't, she did" your mother nods to you and you widen your eyes prepared to defend yourself.

"I never made him immortal" you defend when your father's eyes burn holes in you.

"Actually you did" your mother says and you wonder if your mother is on your side. But she is on your side. "gods don't engrave their names on mortals hearts and then nothinghappens after" she continues.

"whoever told you to engrave your name on his heart might not have told you, but by doing that you made him immortal."

And then you remember who you went to for help.

Hoseok, the cast out god himself; your uncle.

"You're so rebellious huh? Wanna be like me" he asks you mockingly when you explained everything to him.

"If I do end up like you atleast I'll have somewhere to go" you say and he chuckles at that. He's always told you that if you ever became rebellious you'd have a home with him and that still stands.

So hoseok helped you, he got jungkook's name engraved in his. He's the god of marriage and prosperity after all.

He's the one who told you to engrave on jungkook's heart, in any other situation he'd be worried for jungkook that he might die but the fact that jungkook and you we're fated (he doesn't know how and he still wonders) he knew instead of killing jungkook it'd make him immortal.

Unlike in his sister's case she had begged hoseok for the same thing that you are begging for, but only she was not fated to the mortal. And even if he told her what would have happened she still begged and he did it. And expectedly the mortal died.

Your mother still feels guilt and curses her hope and how hopeful she was that maybe he would've survived.

You wonder if jungkook knows he's immortal and if he did know why didn't he tell you. Now you understand why jungkook's presence and gaze caused much pressure, no mortal could've had such an effect on you. And why he became immune to you gaze and touch.

Your heart relaxes knowing that your father can't kill jungkook, but that doesn't stop him from being cast out like hoseok.

Wherever jungkook is he grunts and groans at the feeling that pulls at his heart. He lays down as his tattoos flicker on-off like a bulb.

"Hurts to be away from your love right?" Hoseok asks giving him something to drink.

Jungkook nods. He knows who hoseok is, so it's not weird being in his presence but he doesn't know how he got here. But hoseok remembers he's sister's instructions.

"Watch for him and when you see him take him with you" she says the day of the wedding knowing what would unfold. After hoseok told her what was going in with you, she knew what was going to unfold and she needed a plan. "He needs your help. Train him to embrace and use his power"

Hoseok's home was simple, warm and comforting, but he misses your presence.

"Well you're going to have to deal with it a little longer cause you won't be able to see her anytime soon"

☆☆☆

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hufflepuffwriter1995 · 7 months ago

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Finding The Pack

Pairing: Plus Size!Named Reader x BTS

Pack Status: Pack Alpha Namjoon. Alphas: Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. Omega: Lilith (Reader)

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Omega Abuse (not by BTS), Mentions of Kidnapping, and Eventual Smut.

Themes: Omegaverse, Fantasy, Supernatural, Reverse Harem,

Ratings: 18+

Summary: On the night before she is set to marry the abusive Dorian Redfern, Lilith takes matters into her own hands and escapes. While life without a pack is dangerous, she knows she’s better off alone. At least, that is until she meets seven males, who quickly show her not only her worth but how beautiful life can be. She can only hope now that they are enough to keep her old life from catching up to her.

Chapter One

Prologue:

“Jin darling be careful.” Jisoo Kim laughs as she carefully pulls her three-year-old little boy away from the crib that holds her newest addition to the home-run daycare. Jin let out a whine of protest, little hands gripping the side of the crib as he freed himself, his face pressed against it.

“Gotta keep safe!” He cries, hazel eyes never leaving the slumbering baby. As a beta, his mother immediately knows what is happening and can’t help the grin that crosses her face. She will need to befriend the older couple that brought the pup in, if only because she will be damned if she takes away her son’s mate. Fears of him hurting the baby vanish with this newfound information and she smiles as she heads back to make lunch. Unaware that the text she sends along the way to the mother, a picture with the caption “It looks like we will be quite close” will cause the life she imagines for her son to vanish.

When the little girl is picked up that night, she is never returned and all of Jisoo Kim’s desperate attempts of contact go unanswered. When she finally goes to the address they had given her, she finds that oddly enough the family that just moved in moved out just as quickly. She will never be able to forget the look of pain in her youngest eyes or shake the feeling that something is very wrong.

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

As an Alpha, Eliza Min hates being told what to do, especially by a Beta. However, when the couple arrives, begging for her help to watch their daughter, the same daughter that her youngest has been watching like a hawk from the safety of their backyard, she doesn’t decline. Even when the woman all but snarls her demand to keep any male child away from her daughter. Eliza Min finds the wording of the demand odd, especially on the insistence of it only being a male child. Odd enough she doesn’t stop Yoongi when he sits down and begins to play with the now almost one-year-old.

It’s because of her stubborn nature and the fact that she just does not like these people that she keeps the fact that Yoongi plays daily with the daughter for a year and a half. The truth only being discovered when the precious little thing that is that baby girl tells her father with so much excitement that she just can't wait to play with her boyfriend Yoongi.

The odd couple move in the middle of the night, leaving Eliza furious and her son heartbroken, demanding to know why they would take his little flower away from him. Eliza attempts to get the law involved but really, there isn’t a law stating that parents can’t be strange. As the years go on, Eliza can’t forget about the little girl and finds herself worrying that maybe, just maybe, her wolf is right and the strange marks were never just accidents.

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

Sana Jung meets the family at a park. Her children, Hoseok and his twin Ryoko, are playing happily in the sandbox when a shy little girl approaches and asks to play. At once, Hoseok, her little Alpha in training, agrees and hands her most of his snack as they play. Insisting that she eat. Sana watches the three with a proud, motherly smile, a smile that turns sour at the look of fury on the other woman’s face as she drags her screaming child away. Her hissed words ringing in Sana’s ears. “Didn’t we tell you to stay away from boys?”

That night over dinner, she tells her Alpha’s everything, begging for them to do something. For the next three weeks her alpha’s look for the strange family. Finally coming back with the news Sana didn’t want to hear. They moved and no, they didn’t leave a new address. They don’t stop looking though, if only because of the way Hoseok had responded to the little girl's cries of distress, his first true snarl rumbling through his chest in a way that told Sana all she needed to know. Her son’s luna had just been ripped away and she would be damned if she allows that to continue.

~~~~~~~~

Crystal Kim was a true alpha, a pack leader among alphas. She was a force to be messed with. This is why, when the new couple across the street had a little girl who looked exactly as her friend Sana had described, she marched over there and introduced herself. As a couple of betas, neither could close the door on her, the wolves reacting to her despite not being a member of her pack. They couldn’t stop her from kneeling and speaking softly to their daughter, nor could they stop her from letting the little girl go and play with her Namjoon. She could tell both hated it, especially when Namjoon began presenting the same signs, the same protective displays an alpha has over their mate.

It didn’t come as a surprise to find that they had once again fled in the middle of the night. But it gave her all the information she needed to know. Something was up with the seemingly kind older couple and she would be damned if she didn’t figure out what was going on.

~~~~~~

SangHee Jeon had been watching her neighbour's children, Taehung and Jimin, along with her own little Jungkook when she met the couple. They were exhausted and cranky and left the girl on her doorstep with a list of very strict instructions. She had done her best to keep the little girl away from the three boys, but it was hard. The three boys did not want to be kept away from the girl and took it upon themselves to plot ways to go around her. She spent the better of her afternoon trying to explain to the three boys that it was not her insisting they kept away from the girl, but her parents and begged them to just listen. They would agree, for all of twenty minutes before she made some sound that had them gathered together in the corner whispering as they plotted a new way to get to her.

In the end, Sanghee had carefully asked if maybe next time they just allow the children to play together, only to be met with a snarled curse of “Fuck off” and “She’s a little slut, it's for their own good, not her’s.” She had bristled at the words and decided that the next time they showed up, she wouldn’t allow them to take the girl back. Only they never did come back and Sanghee was left with the itch that maybe she never should have allowed them to take her after that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Lilith turned sixteen she was hit with an ache in her soul. An ache that left her feeling empty, as if something was missing. She didn’t know what and didn’t dare try and broach the subject with her parents. They hated, HATED when she asked questions. Even something as simple as “What is for dinner” was met with a hard slap across the face and a cold reminder to not ask questions.

She spent most of her time since her sixteenth birthday locked away in the basement, kept hidden from everyone outside of her pack or rather her parent's pack. Their Alpha, a cold man named Carter, had told her that he knew the truth and wouldn’t accept a whore into his pack. So any hope she had of finding freedom was torn away by his cold words. Still, sometimes, in the dead of night, she remembered the comforting touch of a memory, of a boy she couldn’t quite remember and the gentle hands that had made her feel safe.

She had no idea that on her twentieth-ninth birthday, everything would change.

#bts hybrid x reader #bts imagines #jung hoseok smut #kim seokjin smut #kim taehyung smut #min yoongi smut #park jimin smut #bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #jeon jungkook smut #kim namjoon smut #bts omegaverse au

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jessikahathaway · 1 year ago

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Tainted Love - JJK (M)

Hello hello everybody!

Here is Demon!Jk as promised~

Thank you to everyone who expressed excitement from the teaser! And a special thank you to my bb Ella (@oddinary4bts) for betaing this fic for me and listening to me scream about Demon Jk on discord for the past month. Love you babes!

Alright, fasten your seatbelts, I went a lil AWOL with this but I hope you all enjoy regardless! Please let me know what you think~

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Genre: Fantasy!AU, Demon!Jk, Witch!Reader, unrequited love, romance, smut, angst, lil fluffy bits in there too.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, main character death (not permenant), Demon!Jk can be toxic, reader is in love and knows she shouldn't be, darker themes - Jungkook is an old demon and isn't a very happy one, they use each other a bit but they work that out. SMUT WARNINGS: Multiple smut scenes (you heard me), unprotected sex (don't be silly), oral (f and m receiving), creampies, rough sex, emotional sex, standing/wall fucking, Jungkook is pussy whipped confirmed, dirty talk (jungkook and reader freak nasty), switch!Jk and switch!reader, hair pulling, vaginal sex.

Words: 16.4k

Summary: Jungkook sometimes forgets the time. Except the time he's spent with you, he's certain those times he'll remember until the day he turns to dust. As a demon with a time limit on his life, will he let you in? The witch who has shown him tenderness instead of a blade at his throat. Does he trust you with his life? Or will you be too late?

Jungkook sometimes forgets the time.

And not in the sense of he can’t remember the time of day, or the day of the week itself. No, it’s gotten much worse over his millenia of life. He legitimately doesn’t remember if it’s the 1700s or 2020s some days. Time is a much more relative construct than most people believe. Life isn’t always linear. Things can happen backwards, things can happen too fast or not at all when someone has believed it to be otherwise.

Jungkook had forgotten the time again today. The smoke of his cigarette rose up above his head and swirled and flowed along with the fan spinning slowly above his head.

He laid on his bed in this dingy apartment that he pays for with money he conjures. Being a demon has its perks. But, to remain under the guise of a regular human, he works at a local mechanics shop.

He lives life as a typical low level human being. He has a backstory and everything. His parents passed away when he was little and his great aunt cared for him until he was old enough to move out on his own. While away she passed and he’s been alone ever since. This small village had accepted him, unfortunately for them.

Now, Jungkook was a demon, but that didn’t mean he was wasteful. Nor was he ruthless and bloodthirsty. No, he was nothing of the sort. He was far too old for childish nonsense like that. His temper had almost fizzled out with the will to change his fate for the better. At this point? He’d rather disappear and be done with it all. Constantly looking for new souls to take, it had been exhausting in the beginning, and now? Now he didn’t care really one way or the other.

He had one year before it all went away.

One year before he dies.

The reason? Jungkook had betrayed his brethren. His fellow demons sentenced him to a life on Earth until he could fulfill a quota of ten thousand souls. Specifically, ten thousand souls of those who are the victims of the painful fate of unrequited love. As that was his crime.

He loved a human woman, and so? He was forced to kill the poor saps that had fallen into his own trap.

A painful irony, but Jungkook had quit feeling pain a long while ago. Five thousand years to complete his task, to take ten thousand souls that were suffering the same pain as himself all those years ago. And finally, after far too many years, his task would be ending. And him along with it all.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care much about himself. He was far too tired.

There was, however, one Earthly pleasure that he’d found himself enjoying.

You.

A witch in your own right, a member of the coven in the area. You’d moved in a few years back and noticed Jungkook immediately. He was handsome, he was dark and mysterious. How were you supposed to resist?

Jungkook initially hadn’t taken that much of a liking to you. But you were persistent and perhaps even a little desperate for a friend that knew at least some of your true identity. Jungkook had finally relented on his reluctance and had let you in. Not much, there were things you were certain he would never tell you. Perhaps some things you wouldn’t want to know in the first place. But, it didn’t take long for you two to start fucking after that.

He was weak for very few things. However, cheap spicy ramen from the convenience store down the street, cigarettes and sex had proven to be nicely distracting.

You were pretty and nice enough, although Jungkook didn’t particularly care for you at first, once you two fucked a few times he could see himself forgiving your little nuisances. They didn’t really matter on the large scale anyways.

Nothing did, actually.

A knock at the door brought him from his stupor. He didn’t have to work today, he’d be pissed if Hoseok came to ask him to cover again. He’d already done it five times in the past month. He put out his cigarette and moved towards the entrance. With a scowl on his face he answered the door to see your frame standing in the doorway.

Jungkook raised a brow at you before looking down to see you dressed in your work uniform. You also had a regular job, but you worked as a bartender at the local joint in town. You took notice of his scowl and gave him a playful pout.

“Aw baby, you look so much cuter when you smile,” you said with a pat to his cheek. Jungkook rolled his eyes but let you in as he saw you carrying his favorite booze in your hand. You set the bottle on the table and went to take your shoes off when Jungkook saw a flash of your panties up your skirt.

It was Saturday. You and Jungkook usually fucked during the week as it worked best with both of your schedules. It was rare to see you on the weekends, as this was when the most tips came from the bar's patrons.

“It’s Saturday,” he said, eyes trailing back to your face.

You’d noticed his staring, but you didn’t care-this is usually what happened when he hadn’t seen you in a while.

“Does that mean we can’t fuck on a Saturday?” you asked, head tilting to the side.

Jungkook lit another cigarette. “Why aren’t you working?” he asked, taking a deep drag off the tobacco stick. You smiled at him and Jungkook sighed deeply.

You only smiled like that when you were up to no good.

“I’m trying to set Sana and Alex up,” you said with that same damned smile.

“Why the fuck do you want to do that?” he asked, tapping some of the ash off his vice into a glass.

“Because they love each other, they just need a push to figure it out for themselves. So I asked to take an earlier shift today because we had a date,” you said, walking closer. Jungkook watched the sway in your hips and felt the stirring in his lower stomach. He wouldn’t mind fucking you tonight. It was better than forgetting what time it was. Again. “Plus a few of my sisters from the coven are coming over tonight.”

Jungkook sighed, decidedly ignoring the mention of your coven. “A date, huh?”

You pouted and he smirked at your disappointment. “What? Can’t I say that’s what it is? Got something against dating me?”

He inhaled deeply. “Not particularly, but demons and witches don’t mesh well.”

A sharp jab to your heart, but Jungkook was great at those. Without realizing it, he broke your heart day after day. It was ridiculous honestly, you shouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place. Really, you shouldn’t have. You knew it was wrong. Jungkook wasn’t incorrect when he said witches and demons don’t get along well. Some witches had a strong moral code and demons could go against all of them without even a second glance.

Jungkook technically could get you kicked out of your coven.

But he was too enthralled with the fact you put out on the regular and you were too enthralled with him in general.

Overall, it wasn’t the best situation, but Jungkook had done you some favors in the past. Acquiring materials for your coven’s spells, summoning a few extra hundred dollars when you’re short on rent, and giving you an equally satisfying sex life.

Hopefully, tonight was going to prove no different.

“You seem to mesh just fine with me,” you said, voice teasing and obviously hinting.

His eyes flashed a deep crimson at the thought of being able to fuck you. He’d been wound up and needing something besides cigarettes recently. Your body would be a welcomed distraction.

“I do, don’t I?” he said, voice turning smoother.

Jungkook was an attentive lover, always making sure you came multiple times. As a demon he had good refraction period and was able to fuck you after cumming-sometimes multiple times a day. Especially if you hadn’t been able to come over often enough.

You hadn’t seen him in probably two weeks, you had to travel for a coven meeting. But it seems those two weeks left him needing you.

He crowded your space, hands winding around your body and squeezing your ass. He rested his head against your collarbone, hiding his face in your neck. Jungkook did this sometimes, almost as if he could shrink his world and thoughts down to just this moment. This space. This breath happening between the two of you.

You were about to ask if he was alright when he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You responded, letting him back you up towards the wall. Your thighs clenched at the attention. Jungkook had to be the best sexual partner you’d ever had in your almost one hundred years of life. Being a witch had its perks as well.

He was desperate against your mouth, panting and eagerly licking in between your lips, parting them so he could tangle his tongue with yours. His hands wound up your lower back.

“Jungkook, baby,” you whined softly, as he swallowed your lips once more. “I gotta be quick today,” you frowned.

“That’s fine, I won’t last long anyways,” he said, already painfully hard in his jeans.

He turned you around, having your palms flat against the wall. “Think you can stand while I fuck you?” He asked, licking his lips at the sight of your ass presented nicely to him in your short skirt.

“Yes-I can,” you bit your lip, mind reeling with the fact you were about to have him again. You and Jungkook fucked fairly often, probably three times a month, sometimes more if he could swing it. And this had been your arrangement for almost a year now.

People at work knew Jungkook, he was a regular at the bar and people often referred to him as your boyfriend. In their minds you two were just young adults figuring out life and it would all work in the end. You two cared for each other-right?

“Hey,” Jungkook said, voice softer. “You there?”

Ah, you slipped into your thoughts again.

“I’m here, it’s fine-please,” you whimpered, looking over your shoulder at him, the burning in between your thighs causing you pain. Jungkook nodded before flipping your skirt up and tugging your panties down your legs. You were soaked, wetness pulling away with your panties that had Jungkook hissing between his teeth.

“Fuck, do I have time to eat you out? Just a bit? Fuck please,” he begged, kneeling behind you and kissing your ass hungrily. “Let me, I need it baby, please?”

You really did have to be quick, members of your coven were coming over tonight and you’d have to scrub yourself stupid in the shower to not smell like demon. But fuck-when he begged like that?

“Whatever you want,” you said, voice breathless at his eagerness.

He was so good at getting what he wanted. It always worked with you, and it always would unfortunately.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, placing his mouth on you in needy kisses. Jungkook’s tongue threaded between your lips and found your clit almost immediately. You cried out and gripped the wall as he ate your pussy like a starved man.

He liked it.

He liked eating your pussy so much. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the flavor, the amount of slick you produced for him, the way you rutted your hips back against him whenever he did it. You made the sweetest noises when he had his mouth on your cunt and now was proving no different. Jungkook almost felt high at the feeling of your wetness collecting on his face.

Maybe it was that part he was addicted to. Or maybe it was worse than that. In times like this, he really could forget. He could forget he was a demon, not many people willingly share this much of themselves with a demon and know the consequences. But as a witch, you knew what would happen if your coven found out. You knew and yet? You still let him in. You let him touch you and fuck you. All of it.

“Kook~” you cried out, head pressing against the wall. “Please, gonna cum,” you whimpered out.

Damn, he was hoping to get a little more than that. The next time you came over he was going to want to eat your pussy for hours.

“Then cum for me, baby, get yourself nice and wet for my cock,” he said.

You didn’t need much today, you were just as needy as he was. Probably more so. A few more heady sucks of his lips and you were cumming.

“Jungkook-fuck,” you gasped. He smirked and stood up, licking his lips as he undid his jeans. You panted harshly against the wall, mind whirling in pleasure.

“That’s it, pretty thing,” he cooed, approaching with his now crimson eyes. You knew he must be needing this if he’s so worked up already.

“Please baby, give me your cock?” you asked, reaching behind you to grab the front of his undone jeans. Jungkook followed easily when you tugged, your hand dipping underneath the fabric to grasp his cock. He sighed in pleasure, pushing his pants down further and head tilting back just a touch. He pushed his boxers down as well, freeing his cock entirely before you smiled back at him and taking him in your hand once more.

“Fuck, yes,” he said, voice turning raspy and dark.

You winked and pumped him a few times before lining him up with your dripping core. He hadn’t stretched you but you wanted the burn today. “Fuck me then,” you said, inviting him inside you once more.

Jungkook held your hip as he started to lead his cock between your lips. “You wet enough?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

Such a smug bastard. But his cock was big enough he needed to ask-because he didn’t want to hurt you. His demonic nature was there, but honestly hurting someone that had continuously done him favors didn’t seem that important.

“Y-Yeah,” you whimpered, rubbing against him. “Please put it in, want your thick cock in me so bad Jungkook!”

He nodded, finally pushing in just a touch. You whined, head falling back as you felt the full sensation begin. Jungkook growled out at your tightness gripping his cock just right, giving him the rush of tingles down his spine. He gave gentle thrusts into your heat to ease you open, although you were really squeezing him today and his eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of your sweet cunt letting him in inch by inch.

“Fuck I love your pussy,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours fully.

“Love your cock,” you cried, walls clenching down on him harshly. Jungkook couldn’t stop his reaction of bucking into you roughly. You let out a sharp cry at his cock hitting deeper than usual.

“Sorry baby, m’sorry,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your neck and shoulder. Moments like that were the ones you remembered with pain in your chest. The way he easily apologized for the slightest harm to you. All except the harm to your heart.

You shook your head. “It’s okay, don’t worry-just, oh! G-give me more!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, holding your hips he started thrusting inside of you with firm pushes. He huffed in his own pleasure, watching your puffy pussy swallowing his cock with each rut forward. “Look so good like this, take my cock so well,” he sighed, the sweet sensations of your warm, wet walls sucking him in had shivers rocketing down his spine and pooling heat in his stomach.

“Cock so good, made to take it baby, love having you inside me like this,” you mewled. Jungkook smirked at your pleasure cries reaching his ears.

“Made to take me huh?” he asked, giving harsher thrusts inside of you and watching as your face morphed into shocked pleasure.

“J-Jungkook!” you sobbed out.

He was panting against your skin, thrusting inside you with eager pushes of his hips against your ass. The sound of skin slapping echoed through his apartment.

Jungkook could barely think at this point in sex. He was driven by your high pitched cries and the boiling need in his stomach. “Cum baby, cum all over my cock. Gonna let me cum inside today baby?” He teased, huffing sex driven laughter across your throat while he bit down.

“Mmm~ah! Y-Yeah, it’s fine, I have the potion for it,” you cried, grabbing his hand that was gripping one of your hips. He wound the other around your front to start playing with your clit to get you there faster.

“Then I’m gonna fill you up baby, feel it dripping inside of you huh? Wanna cum baby, fuck I really want it, say I can have it,” he groaned.

He loved hearing you beg for his cum. It did something to him, made his high that much sweeter because you pleaded for it. You wanted him that badly. There was something hot about having your watery eyes beg with his to finally let you cum.

“You can, you always can baby,” you promised, holding his wrist while he pounded inside you brutally.

Jungkook smiled against your skin before husking permission to cum against your jaw. With a deep gasp you came, Jungkook following not too shortly after. Your pussy milking him with each pulse of your afterglow.

“Thank you-fuck, oh baby,” you shivered against him, leaning into the kisses he trailed along your shoulder.

“Fuck give me a second, I came so hard,” he said, slumping against you while he pressed you against the wall with him still inside of you. But soon enough you felt him soften and with a deep sigh he pulled from you.

You shivered as his cum trickled down your thigh.

“Ah shit, sorry baby,” he said, running to grab a few tissues. You panted softly against the wall, keeping yourself steady so as not to make a mess. He came back and helped you clean up a bit and offered you his shower.

“Can’t, got sisters coming over tonight, if I shower here they’ll smell demon on me from a mile away,” you stated. “But thanks,” you said with a smile.

He nodded, sitting at his tiny coffee table smoking a cigarette.

Jokingly, you teased him. “Those’ll kill you one day,” you said, pulling on your shoes.

Jungkook’s face didn’t smile like you were hoping. Although it rarely did, you felt the difference. He was… upset?

“No, I’ll be dead by next year regardless,” he whispered.

The room went eerily quiet. Your heart was hammering in your chest. What did he mean he would be dead by next year?

“What the fuck does that mean?” You said, walking towards him in concern. “The fuck do you mean you’ll be dead by next year?”

Jungkook wasn’t phased by your anger. You hardly knew his story and he preferred to keep it that way. Because he knew this would be your reaction. And he hated fighting with you. It never made any difference.

“Didn’t you find a demon, on its own-no contracts or groups or general mayhem happening-a little odd?” He asked, putting out his cigarette.

You swallowed thickly. It was odd. But you weren’t going to argue with a good thing and, perhaps you’d hoped that there was maybe just a happy coincidence, for once.

Of course you were wrong.

Naïveté hadn’t served you well in the past and it seemed to stomp your heart once again in this long life of yours…

“I never found you odd, Jungkook,” you said.

“You should’ve.”

Your heart was racing making your next words slightly frantic. “What’s wrong with you, huh? What’s going on? Are you finally gonna tell me?”

He sighed deeply. He hated the sound of your voice right now. You sounded like you were going to cry, and he didn’t want to make you upset. Watching you cry was painful.

“I have a quota of souls to collect. If I don’t collect all of them by the time set-I disappear,” he said. “The souls of those who know unrequited love.”

Your throat felt dry at his statement. What could you say to that? Was there anything to be said? It’s not like you two were dating, it’s also not like you ever could with you being in the coven.

“How many souls do you have left?” You asked, voice sad.

“Ten,” he breathed.

Ten. Ten souls before next year didn’t seem crazily difficult. But the specificity did complicate things.

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll help you,” you said.

Jungkook’s head snapped to you, and he stood quickly. “Don’t fucking say that,” he said, voice shaking with anger.

“But why not? Why can’t I help you? I have the ability to find souls like that, we can travel and you can collect.” You explained.

“We?” He asked, raising a brow. “You really think I trust you enough to let you do that? How do I know you wouldn’t take me right to that coven of yours?”

You felt your heart break. “Is that what you think I would do?” You said, voice sad and in disbelief. Jungkook knew it was a low blow, but he had to get you to leave if this is where this conversation was going.

He didn’t like hurting you, or your feelings. It usually wasn’t necessary but sometimes you dug too deep, and he had to back you off somehow.

“The fuck is your problem you asshole,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes. “All I did was ask to help you, is it so wrong that I actually want you around? That I actually like hanging out with your crabby ass… call me when you’re not being a massive dickhead” you said, grabbing your bag but intentionally leaving the booze. All it would do was make you think of him anyway. Jungkook was about to call out your name but you slammed the door right in the middle of his sentence.

“Fuck…”

He knew that wasn’t fair, he knew that he shouldn’t have snapped at you like that but… sometimes you did get too close. Jungkook knew what his end would be, and there wasn’t anything you or he could do about it.

At least, nothing he wanted to do about it…

—

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in a week or two now. He hadn’t reached out and you weren’t particularly interested in fighting with him again, not right now. He really did hurt your feelings… He could trust you, you wondered briefly what it would take for him to listen. To hear that you wanted him to collect those souls.

You were just as damned as he was, you knew that. Even more so if your coven discovered what you were up to in your bedroom. And heart…

Just as you were about to suck it up and call him, your phone rang. It was a number you didn’t immediately recognize, but the area code was local.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey, Y/N?” Hoseok’s voice echoed through the phone. Hoseok was a fellow mechanic at the shop Jungkook worked at.

But what would he be calling for?

“Yeah? What’s up Hoseok?” You asked.

“Um… Jungkook, he collapsed at work, he might need to go to the doctor but we’re slammed. You’re his emergency contact so I’m calling you to let you know what’s going on?” His voice sounded worried and confused. Jungkook never got sick, he was a demon, but they didn’t know that. They just knew he was a healthy young guy.

But this was odd.

“I’ll be right there,” you said, hanging up and grabbing your keys.

The drive through town was relatively quiet, but when you got to the shop you could see that there were several people waiting for their usual tune ups and repair work.

You walked in and Ashley, the receptionist, smiled at you. “Hey Y/N, thanks for coming. Jungkook’s in the office with Namjoon,” she said softly.

With a nod you headed back towards the office. You heard Namjoon speaking to Jungkook, but it seemed like he was either not responsive or just choosing to ignore him. The latter seemed more probable. Namjoon was the head mechanic at the shop and ran it for his friend Chen who owned a couple different car places throughout the area.

You opened the door and Jungkook’s head turned towards you. “Baby,” he called. You tried to keep the smirk off your face but you crossed your arms and leaned back against the door.

“Oh, so now I’m your baby?” You said, running your tongue along your teeth with an unimpressed look on your face. Jungkook sighed heavily, knowing that you were going to be pissed with him, he was lucky you came at all. Especially after how he treated you the last time you two saw each other.

Namjoon sighed, used to the bickering and sour looks shared between the two of you here and there. “I don’t know what caused it Y/N, but he seems pretty sick. He might need to go to the doctor.”

Jungkook was about to protest when you nodded. “I’ll take him,” you said. His eyes flashed red in annoyance but it was brief.

“Chen’s already given him the rest of today and tomorrow off,” Namjoon said. “So hopefully that’ll give him some time to recoup, but if he needs more just have him give us a call.”

You nodded, reaching for Jungkook’s hand. He took it, sitting up slowly. You read his energy and found yourself immediately concerned. He seemed to notice your worry and sighed deeply before standing and leaning against you. Without much more ceremony you ledhim to your car.

Neither of you said much as you got him in and started off towards his place. You would have to do an energy transfer for him tonight, luckily it would just take a few potions or a spell to replenish his energy, sex worked as well but ultimately the cause had you concerned.

His human body was starting to deteriorate.

When you arrived you grabbed him and helped get him inside his house.

He was panting softly and laid back on his bed in a huff.

“You need energy,” you whispered, leaning forward to give him some of yours to ease some of his pain. Jungkook turned his head to keep your lips from connecting in the way he needed. “You’re being a shit, either let me help you or delete my number.”

Jungkook frowned, swallowing hard before turning his head so your lips could connect. He breathed deeply in relief as your energy flowed through him softly. Your energy had always been soothing to him, but right now it seemed to help immensely.

He’d missed you.

When you moved to pull away he grabbed you by the back of your neck and connected your lips again. You kissed him with a gentleness that he wasn’t used to, your lips gliding over his softly and with a warmth that was addictive.

He loved your bites and eager kisses but this… This had things stirring in his stomach that frightened him.

Jungkook was afraid of very few things. But your genuine care for him scared him most of all. Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Jungkook wasold and angry and yet, more exhausted than anything.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and settled in his lap. Kissing him a bit more to relax him. The energy would settle soon enough and he would at least be able to tell you what happened.

“Baby,” he called, voice raspy and tired.

“Yes, Kook, what’s wrong?” You cooed, running your hands through his hair to ease him into accepting your energy. The more he fought it the less it would work. “Relax baby, I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

He nodded, head dropping into your neck as he simply tried to feel you. It had been a long time since he’d needed a transfer from you but each time he always forgot how easy you made it.

“Good job, sweet boy,” you praised, kissing his cheek and temple.

Jungkook sighed heavily against your skin, placing tender kisses there as well. “Can I have more energy baby… please?”

You smirked. “Do you want the potions? I know they taste bad but they work, or we can do a direct transfer through sex-”

“Yes,” he said quickly.

You chuckled softly before nodding. “That’s fine then, lay back baby,” you said, undoing his belt and getting his pants unbuttoned.

“Fuck,” he sighed, head tipping back in bliss as you touched him. He felt encompassed by you and your soothing energy.

Your hand slipped in his pants and squeezed his cock gently to encourage him to harden. Your kisses on his jaw and neck stayed sweet but they were firmer, something told you he needed to be babied today. And even though it was rare, you adored it every time. You pushed his pants down further so they wouldn’t be in your way, sending him a look as you spat on his cock. You wrapped your hand around the shaft and pumped slowly, watching the pleasure write across his features.

“F-Fuck, yeah-ah,” he whimpered, eyes shut and brow furrowed in ecstasy.

“Getting so hard so fast, gonna feel so good in my pussy baby,” you cooed, taking his hand and leading it under your skirt.

Jungkook’s eyes practically sparkled at the fact you were so wet. “Soaked-you’re soaked angel,” he moaned, touching your core carefully.

You hiccuped a soft sigh of pleasure before leaning down and taking his cock in your mouth. Jungkook’s breathing stammered at your hot and wet throat swallowing his cock.

You’d always done it so well, and Jungkook could say he would die happily if you were sucking his dick. “F-Fuck, angel, please-mmm,” he groaned, his other hand gently caressing the back of your head. “Sweet tongue, feels so fucking good.

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock before eagerly swallowing it again. Jungkook’s submissive whines had you clenching your thighs together as his fingers snuck inside your panties.

“O-Open your legs-please, wanna touch your pussy, need to feel you,” he whimpered.

Without much ceremony you did as he asked, opening your legs to let him touch you. Jungkook moaned at the feeling of your slick heat against his fingers, he plunged two inside of you causing your throat to tighten around his cock, giving him a rush of heady pleasure down his spine. He could feel you everywhere. Your energy coursing through him, your hot mouth on his dick and your juicy pussy dripping down his fingers. He was quickly getting overwhelmed in the best way. He wanted more of you, more and more until there was nothing left to give. He wanted to give you more too.

He desperately wished he could sometimes.

“Koo~” you moaned on his cock, rutting your hips gently to remind him you were currently soaking his hand and needed some stimulation or you were going to lose your mind.

“Yeah angel baby, soaking pussy feels so good...”

You whimpered on his cock, using the vibrations to pleasure him that much more. But his fingers were working so much slick from your core you knew you needed to have him inside or you were going to go insane. He cried out when you pulled away, eyes wide with need. You kissed him then, giving him a touch more energy to help ease his frantic breathing. He shivered when you climbed on top of him, your warmth and wetness seemingly everywhere.

“Ready baby? Want me to put you in?” you asked, tugging your panties off and slipping your skirt down and off of your legs.

Jungkook nodded quickly. “Please, please baby let me feel you,” he said, reaching for you as you crawled back into his bed. You smiled and rubbed yourself against his cock teasingly for a moment before Jungkook looked about ready to cry.

“Alright sweetie, I’ll stop teasing now, take what you need,” you said, easing yourself down on him. Jungkook’s hands settled at your hips, huffing out desperate breaths of pleasure as your tight heat swallowed his sensitive cock.

“Yes! Yes fuck, feels so fucking good angel, oh baby,” he cried, sounding wrecked already.

You had a feeling you would be doing most of the work today, so you started gingerly bouncing on his cock. Jungkook’s eyes were sparkling, turning a soft purple color as your magic intertwined with him. You had been training for years to have this level of mana and Jungkook knew he’d only scratched the surface of your abilities on days like this.

Sometimes he wondered how strong you really were. You handled him like you weren’t afraid of him or his powers. Albeit his strength was significantly less than it was back in hell.

Even then though, he was curious.

“Fuck~ Jungkook!” you whined, grinding your clit on his lower stomach. “Please, please baby, wanna make you cum,” you pleaded. “Cum inside me baby, please? Give me your cum and I’ll take it like such a good girl. Your good girl Kook,” you said, reaching down to play with yourself.

Jungkook groaned in pleasure. “So close baby, so close-ah fuck!” he gritted out through his teeth.

“Gonna fill me up? Please give it to me, Jungkook. Wanna have your cum so deep inside.”

He couldn’t hold it back anymore, Jungkook sat up and pulled you close as he rutted deeply in your pussy for a few quick thrusts before he shivered in release. You felt your core pulsing at his whimpers and whines from the pleasure your body gave him. His head was flush against your chest as he panted.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Your energy was mellowing nicely with his giving him more color in his face that eased your own heart. “Kook,” you said softly. “D’you feel okay?” you asked, hips and thighs burning from the effort to fuck him, but the pleased look on his face made everything worth it in your mind.

“You didn’t cum,” he said, reaching down to touch your sensitive clit. He was still decently hard inside of you, but you knew he didn’t have long. “Wanna make you cum angel,” he said, rolling his hips up into your gingerly.

“Mmm, baby,” you called in a pitched tone. “Won’t take much, I’m so close,” you hiccuped, resting your head on his shoulder.

Jungkook grunted, his cock was sensitive but your sweet moans kept him up long enough to feel that tight squeeze from your pussy and the rush of slick that soaked his cock in response. “Fuck, yes, yes give it to me,” he begged.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly. You scanned his energy quickly and felt relieved to know it was almost back to normal. “Thank you baby,” you said, patting his cheek with a dizzying smile.

“It’s not as good if you don’t cum, love feeling you squeeze me,” he sighed in bliss, your warmth still holding his cock nicely.

Sometimes he liked this. He liked just feeling your body against his, his cock inside you for a few moments after you both came. You got wetter and slicker and your walls felt so nice on his cock he thought it would make him cum again some days.

You smoothed your hands down his back, holding him close as your energy finally settled and his eyes changed back to their regular brown color.

With wobbly knees you got up and headed towards his bathroom.

Jungkook laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. He wanted a cigarette but he’d run out the night before.

You came back and stood before him. Jungkook could see up your skirt and he was trying not to focus on that as you stood there with a waiting expression.

He inhaled deeply. “I know you read my energy. You know what’s happening to me,” he said.

“I want to hear you say it to me,” you stated.

Jungkook nodded, agreeing with your demands of honesty. Finally.

“Not all demons are without humanity. Some have more than others, yet I always seemed to stray towards more rather than less… there was a woman, I slowly found things I liked about her. Then things I enjoyed… then things I found myself smiling about on my own. I was endeared to this woman… I loved her in a sense,” he said, staring at the ceiling.

“And yet, it wasn’t enough,” he breathed. “My fellow knights laughed at me, then berated me for genuinely showing care towards a human. As one of the high knights of hell I was expected to have higher standards than disgusting humans. So they bound me in a human body, locking most of my powers away, so I would no longer be able to communicate with the human I once cared for. And then I was given the quota I told you about… and five thousand years to make it happen. If I didn’t collect a thousand souls then I cease to exist, it’s starting. My timer is running out.”

You swallowed thickly. “How do I help you stop it? How do I help you?”

Jungkook gave you a tired smile. “Baby, I don’t want to ask that of you. I’m so old now, this life doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

You felt a few tears well up in your eyes despite yourself. “It fucking matters to me…” you whimpered. “You matter to me.”

Jungkook was stunned. “Y/N,” he said, reaching for you.

You sat on the bed next to him. “I don’t want you to disappear. What will happen if you collect all one thousand souls?”

“I will be reinstated in Hell,” he murmured. “I won’t disappear and I will be back to full strength once more.”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head. Either way you’d lose him, but at least one way he’d still be alive… “Then let me help you, I don’t want to see you die like this.”

Jungkook sighed deeply. He’d never had many friends. He had people he kept around for convenience, but overall he’d kept to himself throughout the years. You were the only one in recent history that he’d told anything to. Perhaps he could truly do this. He could be reborn in hell once more.

And when he got back to hell… he could rip those knights apart for what they put him through…

He nodded. “I’ll need your help,” he said.

“You have it,” the words fell easily from your lips. “I won’t let you die like this.”

“Then I won’t.”

—

Jungkook hadn’t expected you to take this so seriously. And yet, here you were in his apartment. You had your glasses on and were gazing at your spellbook as a potion boiled on the stove. Jungkook alway thought you used a cauldron.

‘You think my tiny ass apartment could fit a cauldron?!’ You’d cried in annoyance at his teasing.

So here it bubbled and boiled and no doubt would cause trouble for Jungkook when he would ultimately have to clean it later.

“Baby,” he called, moving closer to you with your cup of coffee.

You’d stayed the night last night-Jungkook may have fucked you stupid enough he was worried about you driving. There weren’t any sisters of the coven stopping by soon so you could spend the night wrapped in his sheets. And you did exactly that.

You had ten months and twelve days to complete the task Jungkook had been given.

Ten more souls in ten months.

You’d already gotten a list together of possible cities you could look into. Once you had your potion perfected, Jungkook could go out and find his prey with minimal difficulty.

You took the cup from him, setting your spellbook aside as he sat across from you on the couch. You sighed and removed your glasses, rubbing your sleepy features before taking a sip of the hot coffee.

Jungkook watched you and gave your knee a squeeze. “Don’t use up too much energy baby. I’ve got ten months,” he said.

“Ten months isn’t a long time for a witch, nor is it for a demon, we need to work quickly before your condition progresses,” you said, drinking more of your coffee.

Jungkook crawled forward, taking your coffee from you which caused a pout to befall your features. He set your coffee down and crawled on top of you, laying his head right under your chest. He’d crawled between your thighs and was lying entirely over you.

“Need more energy?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, resting against you.

You chuckled before resting back, hand still playing with the hair on his head. Recently, Jungkook had been craving these more than his cigarettes. Simple touches, soft kisses and conversations. Jungkook had never felt so at ease before. Even in his life as a knight of hell.

Jungkook rested heavily against your stomach, laying in between your legs. You knew this could be a side effect of your energy transfer-but it had been a while since he’d needed one. Usually the clinging from your energy would dissipate in a day or two.

It had been at least a week at this point. So what made Jungkook so snuggly? You didn’t want to complain about a sweet thing however.

Jungkook leaned into you more, curling around you as you kept rubbing his scalp. He seemed happy to just stay like this for a while. And you wondered what was causing such a change in him. Was this what he was like with those he trusted?

Sweet and softer?

Or was this purely for you-

No.

You couldn’t think that way, not about Jungkook. Either way this ended with him leaving you… you had to keep focused, you were doing this for your friend.

Your truest friend.

Jungkook snoozed on your belly, content to laze about while you did the hard work. But your heart broke a little more that day.

As you slowly started to fall for a man without a soul.

You’d been stressed today.

Jungkook could tell that you were just by the cute frown on your face, it seemed to have a permanent place on your pretty features today. It always appeared when you were frustrated or angry. He’d seen it directed at him several times, but right now it was at the potion you were working on.

There was a new ingredient you were sampling in it or something to that effect, Jungkook didn’t really understand much of what you were doing to be honest. But it was clear you were stumped for now. It was almost two o’clock in the morning.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, approaching as you sighed deeply.

Jungkook rarely said your name, so to hear it come out you knew whatever he said next he either was serious.

“Time to take a break,” he whispered, standing behind you in his kitchen. There were bags of ingredients all over the kitchen and it would no doubt be left there until later when you two woke up. You’d been staying at his place more and more lately and he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. He had access to your sweet lips and body daily, but it seemed rare that he wanted sex recently. Not that he wasn’t attracted or he was disinterested, it was merely there were other things about you that he was finding more and more interesting. Sex would always be one of his favorite activities with you, but right now he felt that he was learning new things about you everyday. It had him excited in ways he hadn’t been in centuries.

It also had him concerned.

Jungkook was a demon, he shouldn’t be having feelings like this. It almost shouldn’t be possible. It was not in his design to care much about people or have interest in them other than striking deals and killing them to collect their souls.

But Jungkook pushed all of those worries and thoughts to the back of his head.

Because your frown had appeared again, and that sweet pout he wanted to kiss.

“I’ve almost got it,” you said, voice soft and sleepy.

“I’m sure you do baby, but you’re tired and you won’t work well when you’re falling asleep,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Come to bed...”

You leaned back heavily against him, looking up at his face while you sighed. With a tired smile you patted his cheek.

“I don’t want to give up for the night yet, you go to bed, I’ll join you in a bit...”

Jungkook wasn’t going to take that for his answer. So he turned the burner on his stove off and lifted you into his arms deftly. You didn’t have it in you to fight him, you expected this result anyways.

He laid you in bed and crawled in next to you. He pulled you into his embrace and sighed heavily as you snuggled in. He wrapped you up in his arms and you looked at his expression and gave him a smile. A real one. In reward he returned it, kissing your lips before laying back on the pillow.

“Sleep baby, we can try again in the morning.”

His words soothed something inside of you, the desperate thirst to have this potion done so you didn’t waste any more precious time.

You could waste a little time though, right?

Here in his arms you thought you could waste a lot more time than you had...

—

A weekend trip to the city was easy to conceal from your coworkers and sisters. You claimed you wanted a weekend away from coven activities-which was a bold-faced lie as you would be using magic in public which was almost exclusively forbidden. And doing it to help a demon.

Needless to say you hoped no one in your coven ever found out about this.

Jungkook grabbed his bag and tossed it into the back of his car as he got your stuff in too. “Got my keys baby?”

You tossed them across his car and he caught them, moving into the drivers side and opening your door for you. You climbed in and buckled up and shortly thereafter you were on the road.

You and Jungkook turned on a playlist and drove out of the town's limits and made it to the highway. Jungkook changed the playlist and you two settled in for a while.

After a bit, Jungkook reached over and grabbed your thigh, driving with one hand on the wheel. You looked down at his hand before gazing back at him.

“What?” You asked softly.

Ten months and three days. That’s how long you had left.

“Just wanted to.”

Your mouth curved into a shy smile before you placed your hand on his, afterwards your fingers intertwined in your lap.

Soon, you rolled into the city. Jungkook had gotten a decent hotel room for a few days for you two to have a home base. You’d find sections of the city where the next soul was and Jungkook could go out at night and collect.

His powers made it discrete however. Usually the attack was made to look like a natural cause. Rarely did it arouse suspicion. All by design.

When you two made it to your hotel room, Jungkook was quick to attach himself to you. He’d been less interested in solely gaining sex from you recently. However it had been a while since your last romp.

His lips found your neck as you tried to get your stuff out of your bag.

“Kook, what do you want?” You huffed as his hard length brushed against your ass. An aroused shiver rushed through you, sex being a little less frequent between the two of you had you more sensitive to his touch than usual.

“Wanna fuck baby, please?” He asked, rutting against your core softly.

You rolled back against him, unable to help yourself in this instant. His body felt so good and you were more than willing to have him between your legs.

“Yes, fuck me, Kook,” you breathed.

Jungkook didn’t waste much time, he hooked his fingers in your pants and pulled them down quickly. Your panties were damp and Jungkook purred at the sight. “You’re so wet baby,” he smiled, his hand dipping in your panties while he kissed your jaw.

You couldn’t help the soft juts of your hips into the cup of his pelvis, causing your ass to grind against his cock. “Fuck… Jungkook,” you whined, head rolling back on his chest. A soft chuckle escaped him at your needy tone.

“Yeah, m’gonna fuck you so hard baby,” he said. His fingers found your wet folds, sinking two inside your entrance shallowly, causing you to clench desperately.

You held his wrist, whimpering in need. “Please, please,” you panted. “Need something inside. Need you inside me, Kook.”

Jungkook kissed your jaw, a smile on his face. “Want my cock baby? Want it in that sweet little pussy?”

“Yeah~” you pleaded.

With a deep sigh Jungkook took his hand from inside your panties, tasting your slick and moaning.

“I need to eat your pussy first,” he said, turning you around and laying you on the bed. You laid back on the bed, peeling your legs open so that he could lay between them. Jungkook grabbed your panties and tossed them away. He breathed out in an eager pant. His eyes were locked on your core and then he looked at you.

“Wanna eat it baby?” you asked, smiling at his hungry eyes.

“Yeah,” he whined. “Let me have it, please baby let me eat your pretty pussy. Make you cum so nice,” he said, licking his lips.

Jungkook looked at your core, furrowed brows as he seemed as if he was almost in pain. “Please…”

You nodded. “Okay baby,” you said with a grin. “Take it then.”

He captured your lower lips in a hot kiss, moaning deeply as he licked between your folds to gather more of your sweetness that had him addicted. “Fuck… yes,” he groaned, moving to hold your thighs apart so he had better access to your dripping core.

“Kook!” You whined, head falling back on your shoulders as your fingers wound into his hair. “Fuck, fuck your mouth!” You cried.

Jungkook was eager to eat, it seemed that no matter how much time he spent between your legs it wouldn’t be enough. He’d always wish for one more minute, your sweet cunt on his mouth and your wetness gathering on his tongue had his cock pulsing in need. But he didn’t care about that, getting you soaking wet for his cock was all that was on his mind.

He took your clit between his pretty lips and started sucking harshly. He swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud before going back to suck again. You mewled in pleasure, thighs trembling at his heady touches. His middle and pointer fingers rubbed over your core before catching at your entrance. With a soft smirk he pushed his two fingers inside your hot walls.

“Jungkook!” you cried, grabbing his hair harshly. He just moaned in acknowledgment, happily slurping the wetness you leaked as he thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy slowly. His eyes shimmered at the sight of your slick coating his digits as it always did.

“I love your pussy so much, fuck,” he growled, lips and chin covered in you.

“So close, Jungkook,” you begged, the throbbing in your walls a clear sign of your oncoming orgasm.

He smirked again, before pulling away. You were about to cry for him to keep going when you heard him unbuckling his pants. With eager hands you moved forward to grab at him, pulling him closer as he chuckled at your neediness.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you scowled.

“Sorry baby,” he cooed, kissing your jaw. “Gonna make you squirt on my cock to make up for it huh?”

You felt the rush of his words tingle down your spine. He rarely didn’t mean what he said. And you were his good girl. If he wanted you to squirt on his cock then so be it.

You two quickly got worked up as Jungkook kissed you breathless and you tugged his pants down his thick thighs. He pulled his shirt off of his body and your eyes always widened. His tattoos were on full display and his toned body moving on top of you had stars forming in your eyes.

“You’re such a slut for a hot body,” he smirked, eyes dark and swirling with red undertones.

“I’m a slut for your hot body, yes,” you corrected. His eyes widened at your statement, but you were pumping his dick in your hand and he quickly felt his need for you taking over.

“Then let me put it in,” he sighed, naked now.

You were pulling your bra off when Jungkook leaned close. You looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

There was this... sensation in Jungkook’s chest. Your bright eyes, teasing smile and sweet kiss encasing him and making him feel...

Lighter.

You laid back once you were naked as well and Jungkook moved eagerly to get in position. You giggled as he dragged you closer, adjusting you so his cock was now level with your pussy.

“Gonna put it in now baby,” he said, pushing just the tip of his cock inside before pulling out. You cried in impatience and Jungkook nodded, listening to both of your desires and pushing in further. Your fingers gripped the sheets of the bed and Jungkook rubbed your clit with his thumb to ease any tension from you so you could take him easily. He pulsed inside your cunt, a shiver of bliss running down his spine. It felt like electricity flowing through him. Your pussy was warm and snug around his cock and he could feel your wetness leaking down onto his balls already and he smiled.

“Jungkook! Please, please move,” you whined, eyes watery and pretty.

“Yes angel baby,” he agreed, thrusting inside of you with a steady pace.

The two of you moaned in appreciation of the other. Jungkook’s thick cock filled you in every way you wanted and needed, hitting all the right fucking spots. You’d never had another partner make you feel this way in the over one hundred years of your life. You clenched tightly and Jungkook swore he almost lost his fucking mind. He grabbed your thigh as he ground his pelvis against yours after every other thrust, holding himself up with the other hand. He was rewarded with your decadent cries.

“Fuck! Jungkook, fuck me baby, please, more-I need more,” you begged, grabbing his upper back and shoulders desperately.

Your wish was his command. He moved your thighs so your knees touched your ribs and started fucking you harder. The sound of your wet pussy swallowing him filled the room and he could hardly think. The only thing driving him was your cries and the pulsing in his lower stomach.

“Fucking wet pussy, yes-yes!” He sighed, his head tipping back for a moment as the pleasure of the moment overcame him.

“So big-so full!” you whimpered.

Jungkook smiled at your mewling cries, they coursed through his veins and made his chest tighten. Bringing you to this point was always so exhilarating. He loved pushing you to your limits and watching you shudder and gasp as he forced you to take it over and over again while the sparkle in your eye never faded. You wanted to take it, take him. You loved challenging him and bringing him to his knees just as often as he did to you.

“Yeah, take my big cock, snug little pussy takes my cock so well,” he growled, leaning down to kiss you with dark passion. He sucked on your lower lip before capturing your tongue in between his lips instead.

“Ahhh~” you whined, his hips pushing harder and harder against yours. He finally released your tongue and pulled you into another deep kiss before giving two more firm thrusts before looking at you, his eyes swirling with their beautiful red hue.

“Wanna fuck you from behind baby,” he purred, pulling from you and encouraging you to roll onto your belly. He spanked your ass, gripping the flesh between his fingers and watching you writhe in need for him.

“Please Kook,” you begged. “Put it back in...” you said, wiggling your hips to entice him. Jungkook spanked you again, causing you to gasp in pleasure.

“Wait for my cock you needy girl,” he said. “I’ll make it worth it,” he promised, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. You leaned your head to the side and reached up to cradle his neck. Jungkook trailed his hand down to your soaked pussy, throbbing with the need to cum. He slipped his fingers inside of you, reaching his other hand around your throat to tilt your head up. You watched him tower over you while his fingers plunged in and out of your sopping pussy.

Jungkook bit his lip while watching your eyes glaze over with the desire to cum. He loved bringing you to this point. Needy, eager and pleading for the pleasure he can deliver to you. “Sweet pussy baby, wanna cum? Wanna cum on my fingers?”

You couldn’t even form words with how good he felt. Your mouth was open as you panted your pleasure out in desperation.

“Or do you want my thick cock making you cream and squirt?” He teased, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside you that had stars swirling in your vision. “What does my angel want?”

“Kook, p-put your cock in, need it!” You rasped, feeling far too fucked out to handle anymore teasing.

Jungkook honestly couldn’t wait much longer either. His stomach felt tight with desire and he really needed to cum.

“Okay baby,” he cooed. Honestly, Jungkook was at his limit too. He couldn’t wait to feel the walls of your pussy wrapped around him while he plowed you into the bed and finished inside. Fuck, he wanted it so badly.

Finally he lined up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly. A soft cry came from your lips that Jungkook shushed, a lazy smile on his face. “Don’t cry at me baby, I’ll fuck you even harder for it.”

Little did Jungkook know, you wanted the rough treatment right now. You wanted more of it. He sighed in bliss when he bottomed out in your tight cunt, a deep seated pleasure boiling in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to feel you cream around his cock. You were flat on your belly, legs together but ass perched slightly up so Jungkook slid all the more easily.

“Yeah... just like that, good girl angel, that’s my good girl,” he said, starting to pick up pace rather quickly. You didn’t need him to be careful, you needed him to make you cum.

“Kook-Jungkook!” you cried, gripping the sheets between your fingers as he started pounding you just as he promised.

He couldn’t help the grin that fell over his features when he saw that ring of your cream forming at the base of his cock. “Fuck, fuck baby you look so good like this. Letting me fucking cream this pussy, ah~” he whined at your clenching walls sucking him in-begging in their own right for his cum.

“Please kook, so close, let me cum baby, please-I need it, need you Kook!” you cried. Jungkook’s hands found yours as he leveraged his hips so he could go even harder inside you.

“Gonna make me cum baby, make me cum fuck,” he huffed out, breaths coming in short pants. His brow was sweaty and the muscles in his thighs were trembling from the position he was fucking you in. But he didn’t care. Because your pussy was working him over and his balls were tensing as he waited for you to rut those cute little hips back.

Like clockwork you did as he expected, one of your tells you would be cumming soon. “Fuck, Jungkook! So close-so close!” you squealed, gripping his hands desperately as he was slamming into you. The wet squelching noises of your pussy were driving him up the wall and the view of your ass while he wreaked havoc on your body.

“M’gonna cum, angel, tell me where you want it,” he said, panting against your ear as he leaned over you.

“Inside baby, want all your cum inside me,” you whined.

He growled deeply, kissing your neck and biting down while he rutted inside harshly. “Take it then, cream my cock while I fill you up,” he said, another passionate snarl leaving his lips.

You answered with your own sweet mewls of pleasure, egging him on, whispering more naughty things to make him fuck you that much harder.

It didn’t take much longer before you both found yourselves thrown into orgasm. You first, walls squeezing him tightly, pulling him over the edge of bliss alongside you. He breathed hard against your shoulder, kissing along your skin to ease both of you through the intense sensations.

His cum started seeping past his softening cock and Jungkook finally found the ability to move once more. He wandered to the bathroom and got a few washcloths to clean the pair of you up with. Soft kisses were placed along the crown of your head, your cheeks and lips. “Such a good girl, angel baby,” he praised, more words of affection lain across your skin with his mouth.

Jungkook crawled into bed with you, pulling your frame close. “You alright?”

A soft chuckle escaped you, curling into him with practiced ease. “Yeah, m’good,” you said, eyes drooping slowly.

He smiled at you then, and you felt an odd pulse go through you.

The sooner you helped him, the faster he would slip from your grasp. These moments with him were fleeting, each time closer and closer to the last time you’d be entangled like this. Each kiss counting down in big red numbers. Your heart squeezed, and before you knew it, tears started to fall from your eyes.

Jungkook startled at the sudden change in emotion from you. “Hey, what’s wrong baby? Y/N?”

For a moment you really thought.

You really thought that you two could love each other...

Jungkook left your room late that evening. He kissed your head as you slept, curled up in the sheets naked. Jungkook almost didn’t want to leave you, he wanted to sleep as well-he wanted to hold your warm frame against him as he did.

These thoughts were starting to concern him. These were the very kinds of thoughts that had damned him to spend five thousand years on Earth. He wasn’t keen on suffering for another five thousand.

As a demon, Jungkook wasn’t sure if he should be able to feel these things. He was starting to care for you. He wanted to spend time with you, he wanted to be around you. But he knew that your time together was limited. Either he died or was sent back to hell, and either way you two would lose each other in the end.

It made him angry that this was your fate.

He didn’t want his time with you to be on a countdown. But the world is cruel by design and there was nothing Jungkook could do. You would ultimately be ripped from each other.

As he walked down the streets, Jungkook took your potion you’d made to help him navigate all the different souls at once. Jungkook wasn’t used to hunting like this anymore, it felt like decades since his last hunt. Perhaps it was, he wasn’t sure at this point. One thousand souls is a lot of people to collect from, and five thousand years is a long time to be on Earth. He was always forgetting the time before he met you.

Now, his time had never felt more limited.

Jungkook weaved through the people of the night, watching with keen eyes that were enhanced with your potion. Your potion also enhanced his other abilities, his strength and allure were heightened as well.

Everything would increase Jungkook’s likelihood of taking a few souls tonight.

He slid into a seat at a random dive bar, he charmed the bartender to give him a free drink as he walked through the people. There was a woman here, she was in her early thirties. Jungkook followed her, projecting a different face to lure her in.

Jungkook approached her cooly, speaking in soft tones and shy smiles to coax her into divulging her name. He handed her the drink and she blushed softly. The poor woman was in love with her boss, who was married. There was no way they’d ever get to be together. He always felt moderately bad for these people, but before he met you he thought they almost deserved it in a sense. That’s what they got for getting their hopes up. But now....

He led her outside into an alleyway where he seduced her just a bit more. Jungkook breathed her name out, capturing her lips in a kiss, and soon her soul was traveling from her to him, absorbing into Jungkook as he caught her, laying her down on the ground. It looked like she merely had a heart attack and fell over in the alleyway.

A sad ending for her.

Kerri Jesen...

Jungkook walked away from the scene, his old persona melting off and his regular human form, although the feeling of a soul coursing through him had his heart pounding in his chest. It was a rush, almost like getting high. His head was spinning and his mind was reeling, but he knew this was simply due to the fact he hadn’t been collecting souls as frequently.

Usually demons didn’t get this kind of rush.

Jungkook was wandering the streets towards the hotel when the distinct feeling of being watched fell over him.

He didn’t stop moving, but he knew it was a witch tracking him. His mind was still a little hazy from the collection but he knew that it wasn’t supposed to last much longer. He didn’t head back to the hotel yet. He didn’t want to lead an angry witch right to you if he had a choice.

Just as he was about to turn another corner, a blade was presented to his throat. Jungkook stopped moving, the witch brandishing her blade scowling at him.

“Demon,” she spat at him.

“Witch,” he spat back.

“You murdered my sister,” she growled, slicing at him with her knife. He dodged it easily, but he really didn’t want to fight. She wasn’t going to count towards his quota so there was no point in killing her, except to get her off his back.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he answered honestly.

“I saw you!” she yelled. “You were at the bar! Then you shifted,” she said, taking another deep jab at him.

He dodged again, but he could tell she was going to cause a scene with the way she was going. He had to get out and fast. When she lunged again, Jungkook took her by the wrist and threw her onto the ground and took off running. He ran towards the hotel, his only instinct was telling him to head for you.

He bolted into the elevator and then took off towards your shared room. It was almost two am, he didn’t want to wake you but he was afraid he wasn’t going to be given an option.

“Baby,” he called, walking into the room.

You were asleep on the bed, curled up right where he left you. He moved closer and kissed your shoulder. “Baby, Y/N, we gotta go,” he said, urging you to wake.

You did so slowly, exhaustion filling your limbs and making them heavier than lead. “What? What’s wrong Kook?” you murmured, reaching for him slowly.

“Need you to get up, we’ve got trouble,” he said.

Your eyes cleared and you moved to get dressed quickly. Jungkook was starting to grab your stuff when the window to your room shattered.

“Fuck!” You screamed, falling back on the floor as the witch jumped through the now broken window.

“Y/N!”

The witch stood and glared at you. You felt the hostility and rage pouring off her in waves. Whatever Jungkook did, he really really pissed her off. Without much more ceremony you stood and blocked her from Jungkook.

“What are you doing?” you asked, voice firm. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That fucking demon killed my sister-and you... you’re a fucking witch! What the hell are you doing with a demon anyways? Did you summon it?”

“Him,” you corrected. “I didn’t summon him, I’m helping return him to hell,” you stated calmly.

“And helping it return to hell involves fucking it?”

You bristled at her tone.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you warned, feeling your magic swirl in your fingertips.

“Baby-”

“Don’t Jungkook, you stay behind me right now,” you stated.

The witch looked at you with curious eyes. “You love this demon?”

Jungkook’s head snapped to you as you stared straight ahead. This witch was bad news. She wasn’t from your coven, but she was from one in this region you were certain. This was exactly what you didn’t want to happen. Because now she was picking a fight with a different coven. And she knew. She knew you were falling in love with Jungkook and it was her greatest weapon against you in this moment.

You hardly had time to blink before she made her first attack, a flash of lightning directed for Jungkook. You didn’t even move in order to cast your magic, you made a ward that protected him entirely without even the lift of a finger.

“You’re strong, how old are you?” she asked, like the question was an average thing to hear from another person.

“Old enough to know when to pick my battles. I don’t want to fight with you, and Jungkook doesn’t either-”

“That demon killed my sister! I won’t let it live,” she growled.

“I won’t let him die,” you said with a deep tone. Your eyes flashed purple and you sent magical flames towards her feet. They wouldn’t burn anything but the intended target. She shrieked and jumped onto the bed, rolling and throwing a knife towards you. With a quick flash you stopped the blade in the air and turned it towards her, propelling it forward with your magic.

Jungkook was stunned to say the least. He’d never seen you use your magic like this before. He didn’t even know you were capable of this much mana manipulation and things of the like. He knew you were strong before because of how much energy you’d always been able to give him, but this was on an entirely different level.

“You’re betraying your sisters for this?!” the witch cried.

“I am,” you said, a shot of ice towards her. Elemental magic was much more complex than most witches understood, so to have you wielding it so effortlessly had Jungkook impressed all over again.

She dodged it.

“What’s your name huh? What coven do you belong to?” you asked, warding against another attack.

“My name is Maya Tudor, I’m from the Coven of Nyx Rienhardt, and we will not tolerate the murder of one of our own,” she hollered.

“You’re not supposed to act on your own,” you said, blocking more of her attacks. “You’re meant to report this to Nyx herself. She would then dispose of me how she sees fit,” you said, pushing back against her. “Acting on your own without the thought of your sisters is just as damning. Isn’t that what I’m doing? You’re acting no better than me, little witchling.”

Maya shoved back against your wards, causing you and Jungkook to stumble onto the floor. Jungkook caught you, holding you close as Maya attempted another strike when you snapped back with a whip of ice.

She cried as the magic burned her skin, causing a blister to form along her arm. “Fucking bitch!” she snarled, standing back as Jungkook pulled you to your feet.

“Come on,” he said, pulling you towards the door.

The pair of you booked it down the hallway, the sound of Maya hot on your heels made you concerned. People weren’t supposed to know witches and demons or anything in regards to the supernatural. Maya was breaking more rules than you were at this point.

Jungkook and you made it to the parking garage.

He was just trying to get you to the car so you could gather a bit of your strength to help the pair of you get away. At least for now.

“Jungkook, slow down!” you cried, stumbling over your feet.

“Can’t, we gotta get out of here Y/N,” he said, pulling harder.

“Jungkook she’s gonna hear you-fuck!”

With a pained whimper, you fell to your knees. The car was just a hundred yards away. “Y/N?!”

You held your side, as a small dagger peaked between your fingers. Jungkook kneeled with you, looking at the damage. You’d survive, he just had to get you in the fucking car.

Unfortunately, it seemed you had different plans.

You lifted yourself up onto your feet, wavering slightly as you stared at the brat of a witchling who you knew wouldn’t know any better. But honestly, this was too much. You weren’t going to lose Jungkook to her.

Yourself on the other hand...

“Enough,” you said, pulling the dagger from your side and dropping it to the floor. Maya looked at you with disdain evident in her eyes.

“I will get revenge for my fallen sister,” she growled.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” you declared firmly.

Jungkook swallowed hard. This witch was different then he’d originally anticipated. He was starting to sense a difference in her magic. You were taking most of the hits and he wondered why, up until now.

She could slay a demon with the blade she’d hit you with.

Banishing magic.

No wonder you were being so fiercely protective. One hit with those blades and Jungkook would be killed. Or at the very least, sent back to hell.

But you were already hurt, he didn’t want to see you get injured even more.

“Baby,” he called softly.

“Don’t, don’t distract me or she’s going to-”

She sent rapid fire bolts towards you that you had to work hard to dodge, messing with your orientation enough that you stumbled. Jungkook tried to support you but you waved him off. “Go, go baby, get out of here.”

Jungkook scoffed in shock. You were going to sacrifice yourself... for him?

That’s when he understood what Maya said in the hotel room.

You loved him...

Jungkook’s throat got tight as he thought about you. However, his heart didn’t race. It couldn’t, he couldn’t love you the way he is now. Even if he was more human than most demons, he was still-ultimately-a creature of chaos. A creature that didn’t have a typical set of emotions.

Although he knew... He knew deep within himself had he been human, he would love you. He’d love you with everything he was if... if only he could.

Perhaps he should do this for you. He should make the call and give you the last thing he can.

His life.

It would always be yours.

You and Maya were going back and forth. You were doing harder work, protecting yourself and Jungkook as Maya made ground with her attacks. The wound on your side was aching, and there was nothing you could do about it. Not without losing more of your energy that could be spent protecting and hopefully getting this bitch to leave you and Jungkook alone.

You were sweating, the magic energy finally starting to drain. However, the witchling didn’t look much better. If you could just hold out a little longer.

Unfortunately, there was a hidden trump card.

Maya shouted an incantation before you were surrounded with bright light. The pain hit you first as you thudded to the ground gasping, Maya had slammed you with lightning. You weren’t even able to get a ward up to protect yourself from the exhaustion coursing through your veins. Jungkook moved in front of you.

Maya stalked towards Jungkook with purpose. You whimpered from the ground, looking at him with a pained expression. He just gave you his smile before turning to face the witchling once more.

“If I let you kill me, will you leave her alone?” Jungkook asked.

“Jungkook, no!” you cried desperately.

Maya considered it for a moment. “Yes, her coven will take care of her.”

You tried to get up, sending a bolt of ice towards her once more. It threw her on her ass for a moment before she was aiming another lightning bolt in your direction.

“Y/N enough!” Jungkook said, looking back at you. “I’ll do this for you, okay?”

“No, no please don’t do that,” you begged.

Maya approached Jungkook, taking the invitation and slamming a blade into his back. With a grunt Jungkook fell to his knees.

It hurt like a bitch.

But the look on your face was infinitely worse. You looked so sad.

“Justice for my sister has been served, I will leave you to your coven.”

With that, the witchling limped off, her powers effectively drained just as much as yours. If not more so. The only reason she won is because you were doing the work of two people.

It didn’t matter now.

“Jungkook,” you cried, crawling forwards to grab him.

He was bleeding black blood, it was pouring out of the deep gash from the knife in his back. The banishing magic made it so he couldn’t heal himself. Not even your energy would save him now, not like you had enough of it to spare.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, looking up at you. “This should be enough,” he huffed.

“No, I don’t want you to die please,” you said, voice watery and eyes tearing up.

Jungkook smiled at you. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry-I hate it,” he said, reaching to wipe your tears with his thumb. “I’m not worth crying over.”

“You are to me!” you sobbed. “Jungkook... I lov-”

“Shhh,” he shushed you. “I don’t deserve to hear those words,” he said, laying back. “I couldn’t even use my powers to protect you because of how far I’ve let myself fall... You had to make me a fuckin potion so I could hunt, baby,” he coughed. “Don’t say those words to me, I want to say them back but I can’t...”

You were crying hard enough for your shoulders to shake. “Please Jungkook, I don’t care if you can’t say them. I don’t care,” you promised.

“I do,” he whispered. “I want to say them to you someday. But not yet, save it for then...”

You nodded, barely able to speak anymore. “Don’t go...”

Jungkook breathed out slowly. “I’ll see you... again... Promise...”

With those words, Jungkook’s human frame disintegrated into ash, his clothes left behind in your lap and the blackened blood from his wound staining your hands. You gripped his shirt and cried desperately. You cried until your head ached.

You’d lost... everything.

Jungkook woke up in a forest. He wasn’t familiar with this place.

Was he wrong? Did he not get sent back to Hell?

“Nope, you didn’t,” a calm tone called from behind him. Jungkook whipped around to see a shorter man with blonde hair looking at him with peaceful features.

“Who are you?” he asked, stumbling backwards. Where was he? And what was going on?

“I’m Jimin - and to answer those questions stumbling around in that head of yours - we are currently in purgatory,” he said.

“How-”

“Can I know what you’re thinking?” he asked, finishing Jungkook’s statement. He rolled his eyes.

“Stop that,” he demanded. “I thought I would end up in Hell, why am I in purgatory?”

Jimin sighed deeply. “It’s complicated. But, I’ll explain it the best I can... You are a demon that is being punished by the Knights of Hell for acting in the interest of a human - is that correct? You’re Jungkook?”

“Yes, I am,” Jungkook confirmed.

“Very well, then I am here to offer you a wish.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “A-A wish?”

Jimin smiled, eyes disappearing as he chuckled. “Yes, a wish. Just one. You were a demon that sacrificed your life for the life of another. We Angels have deemed that you are entitled to a wish for your acts,” he explained. “Choose wisely,” his voice turned serious.

Jungkook could hardly believe what he was hearing. A wish? For saving you? The woman he wanted to love. He still had this feeling in his chest that he didn't deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. But, maybe he could. If he tried. If he made his wish and found you again, would you take him back? Would you let him love you properly this time?

There was only one way to find out.

“It seems you’ve thought of a wish?” Jimin said with kind eyes.

“A life - with her,” Jungkook breathed. “I wish for a life with her.”

“It will be a human life, you won’t have any magical abilities or powers. I can give you enough money to sustain you for a time but nothing longer than a year. From there you are on your own. If you die or are injured before finding her there is nothing I can do about that,” Jimin said.

Jungkook nodded. “I want a life with her, that is my wish. As long as I can be with her that is all I want.”

“Then that is how it shall be.”

How had three years gone by already?

You asked yourself this as you wiped down a counter at your job in a local cafe. Your coven had exiled you. You were extremely lucky they didn’t kill you. But they’d taken your magic-giving you enough to leave town and never return.

With that you hadn’t looked back. You only looked ahead, the only person you wanted could be out there right now. Right this very second. You only had enough magic left for a few tracking spells, and they’d led you to the countryside. A smaller town, but big enough to hide in if necessary.

You were hoping he was here. Your magic had never steered you wrong before, you just wanted to see him again.

Was he alright? Did they hurt him in Hell? Was he still a demon or was he able to become human...

All these thoughts swirled in your head. You cleaned the counter tops and the other tables and helped your boss, Seokjin, lock up for the evening.

“Alrighty,” he said, wiping his hands off and smiling. “You’re free to head home! Felix comes in tomorrow morning so you can take the day off if you want?” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

You tilted your head but nodded regardless. “Alright...”

What an odd one this guy was, but you decided to let it go-just appreciative of the day off tomorrow as you’d been working doubles the last week.

Seokjin came closer with a smile. His irises flashed a bright neon green for just a moment. You could’ve sworn it happened but somehow you almost doubted your own eyes.

“Go home safely, Y/N, don’t worry about tomorrow here Felix will cover for you,” he said. “Have a good evening.”

With that, he placed his baseball cap on his head and trotted away.

Your mind clicked for a moment but all you could feel was appreciation.

No wonder Seokjin accepted you so quickly.

One exiled witch helps the other...

A small smile was on your face as you made your way back home to your apartment. It was tiny, but it was home and you honestly rather preferred the small space. You’d worked hard to make it cozy and welcoming and-

What the fuck?

The door wasn’t latched. You’d locked and latched that door when you came home. The only other person who had a key is Seokjin which you gave to him for emergencies only and this-

“Baby?”

Your head snapped up at the voice you thought you heard. But when you finally laid eyes on him, it was hard to believe he was actually here.

You looked at him, unable to process that he was actually there. Right there in front of you and you could just reach out and touch him but... the tears started faster.

“What...?” your voice was weak and breathless.

Jungkook stood before you, looking almost as if he’d never left. His hair was still long and curly. He was dressed in decent enough clothes, nothing fancy but he looked strong and well fed. Your heart was trembling in your chest at the mere thought of him coming back to you.

He was a demon, he didn’t have to do anything like this for a simple witch turned human. But here he was, standing inside your apartment.

“Hi...” he trailed off, looking sheepish.

“How did you...?” you asked, slowly moving closer into the apartment and out of the chill of the night. “How did you find me?”

Jungkook shut the door behind you and you turned to fling your arms around his neck. He caught you easily with a shy smile on his face.

“I’ll always find you,” he said, like in some cheesy romance movie. But it made your heart throb in longing all over again.

“Are you a demon? You don’t feel like a demon-”

Jungkook snorted at your questions, knowing that you still couldn’t quite believe he was here. He held you close by your waist, kissing your temple as you breathed him in. “Baby... I’m not a demon, I’m human, just like you,” he said.

It couldn’t be possible. You didn’t just hear those words from him. “H-Human?”

He pulled back from your embrace just enough to look into your eyes. “Look, I don’t have any demonic energy,” he said, his eyes deep brown and there was nothing underneath them but warmth.

Human.

“How?” you asked, reaching forward to touch his face with a shaky hand. He held your hand against his face and leaned into your touch.

“Because I didn’t want to live without you,” he said. “I wound up in purgatory, and Angel granted me a wish due to me sacrificing my life for yours-I wished for... for a life with you, because my time with you-well... I only got a taste of it and I want more, I want more of those days like the ones at my place. I just want to be with you.”

Tears thatched along your lashes as you pulled him closer again.

“Can I say it now?” you whispered against his chest.

Jungkook laughed softly and kissed your head. “I hope to hear it often,” he said, leaning down and pulling you into a sweet kiss. “But wait just a bit longer,” he said, kissing you again.

You were wrapped up into his embrace as he pulled you back towards the couch. You eagerly followed, letting the moment of your reunion fuel this passion boiling in your stomach.

Jungkook kept kissing you, almost as if he were trying to remember every inch of your lips. His hands trailed down your body, squeezing and moaning softly at the alluring softness. “Fuck... Fuck baby,” he grit out.

A teasing smile made its way onto your face. “Yeah? What do you want, Kook?” you nudged your nose against his. You sat down on the couch and pulled him closer by his pants.

He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, watching with hazy eyes as you fished his hardening cock out of his pants. “Please baby, suck my cock for me, missed your pretty mouth so much,” he said, running his thumb from your jaw to your throat and pressing gingerly.

Your lips ran over his cock tantalizingly and Jungkook had to swallow to make sure he didn’t cum on your face. He hadn’t been touched since the last time you two were together and having human stamina now made it a little harder to refrain from his eagerness.

But, Jungkook knew what patience meant, so he calmed himself but his cock was heavy and throbbing in your hands.

“Fuck... must hurt to be this hard,” you said, and before he could growl at you to get started you swallowed his cock with practiced ease. You ran your hands up under his shirt and dragged your nails down his lower stomach while you sucked his cock deeper into your throat.

Jungkook’s hand made it into your hair, gripping it as you bobbed your head to pleasure him. He sighed out harshly through his nose and you knew he was enjoying it. If you could smile you would’ve, his little tells were still the same. He smirked down at you, watching as your pretty eyes locked with his.

“Suck it so well baby, always so good for me my angel,” he groaned, voice turning whiny at the end. “Fuck!”

You took his balls in your hand and palmed them gently. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back in his head, breaths coming out short and stilted at your pleasuring him. You pulled off him for a moment to catch your breath. “Love sucking your cock baby, love it so much,” you smiled.

Jungkook laughed a breath out and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. You bit on it gently causing him to smile. “You wet for me?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

You dropped his cock and quickly pulled your pants off as you sat on the couch. Jungkook mirrored your actions, taking his clothes off as you laid yourself on the couch with your knees up, hiding the place he wanted the most right now.

Now, Jungkook wasn’t above begging. In fact, he rather enjoyed it from time to time. He crawled to you, naked and smiling. His hands wound around your calves and squeezed them gently before placing kisses along your shins and ankles.

“Please baby,” he said, lips trailing along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Please open your legs?” he asked, voice sweet and pleading. “Gonna let me eat this pussy? Want my tongue on you?”

You smiled and pulled him in for a kiss while opening your legs so he could touch. He kissed you passionately before leaving tender smooches along the soft swells of your skin. Your breasts first, capturing a nipple between his sinfully sweet lips as his hand trailed to your dripping pussy. He let out a desperate breath against your chest when he pushed a finger inside your heat. “Fuck, fuck baby your pussy-fuck,” he said, moving from your chest to your core with deft movements.

Jungkook looked at your core swallowing his fingers and you couldn’t help the mewls falling from your lips. “B-Baby!” you whined softly, running your hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” he breathed against your core. His eyes flicked up to yours and they swirled with hunger. “What is it baby?”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip. “Eat me baby? Please, so needy for you,” you begged.

One of your favorite things about sex with Jungkook was he could be in charge one moment, then the next second you could take it from him. It made the intimacy between the two of you spontaneous and alluring. Jungkook knew you just as well as you knew him and that was exciting. It made you cry for him, begging for the pleasure and bliss you knew only he could give you.

“Alright angel, lean back and let me make you cum,” he said, pulling you closer by your thighs so he could eat your pussy the way he wanted. He placed several warm kisses along your inner thighs before running his tongue through your folds with a fat lick to your clit. You cried softly for him to continue, which he did.

Jungkook made each lick on your center hotter than the last, running his tongue over your clit differently each time. Your feet twitched when he sucked on your core with his plush lips. “Fuck, fuck-Jungkook!” you whimpered, pulling his hair back and away from his face so you could see his flushed face between your thighs.

“Taste so good baby,” he moaned, smiling before licking into your cunt once more.

“K-Koo,” you said. “Please baby, wanna cum,” you moaned sweetly.

His chest throbbed at the sound of your pleased noises. He really wasn’t sure if what he felt with you before was love, but now? Now he knew it wasn’t, because the feeling in his chest... the one taking home in his heart right now was absolutely love.

“I’ll get you there baby,” he promised, sucking your clit into his mouth. He pushed two fingers inside you this time, making your stomach clench in bliss.

“Yeah~ Right there Kook, right there baby please!”

He worked you up further and further, pushing his fingers along with his tongue to create a tension in your belly that had you fit to burst. But just as you would feel yourself cresting to that perfect orgasm waiting for you, he’d slow down or remove his mouth from you entirely.

After the third time you cried at him for it.

“Koo! Baby, please-lemme cum, wan’ it,” you begged, your hairline was sweaty and Jungkook smiled at your desperate sounding voice.

“Tell me one thing baby, then I’ll let you cum,” he said, working you up for the fourth time.

“Anything baby, anything you want.” Your weak tone made him smirk.

“Tell me you love me baby, say you love me and I’ll make you cum,” he said, moving over you to kiss your lips while his fingers still played between your legs.

Your heart stammered in your chest at his request. But it was an easy smile that made it to your face as you answered him after your kiss. “I love you,” you murmured, kissing him with those beautiful words fresh from your lips.

He wanted to kiss those words, he wanted to kiss you and tell you the same... “Baby, Y/N,” he breathed, capturing your lips in a reverent kiss. “I love you,” he said.

Jungkook was stunned at how simple it was to say, and yet it made his heart quake. “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated.

“Jungkook,” you gasped when he pulled his fingers from you to put them in your mouth. You cleaned them as he seemed to want and he moaned with the need to be inside you. Although you were just as eager. Your hand reached down to pump his woefully neglected cock. Jungkook moaned against your temple, hips rutting slightly at the stimulation.

“Want me to put it in now?” he asked, voice breathless.

“Yes,” you whined.

Jungkook didn’t make you wait, taking his cock and lining it up with your soaking pussy. He gave you a look and you just nodded, giving him your consent and with that he pushed inside slowly. You both moaned in pleasure. “Fuck... fuck you’re so wet,” he panted.

“Jungkook!” you cried out. He kissed you desperately then, his mouth searching and hot against your own.

“M’right here baby, always gonna be right here,” he said, voice tender against your skin.

You mewled at his gentle thrusts to open you up. It was so much and yet not enough. “More,” you pleaded with him, hands finding his back.

A sharper thrust made your eyes roll back. “Right there?” he asked, eyes wild and chest heaving. He’d been holding off really well but now that he was inside of your pussy it was game over. He loved being inside of you like this far too much. “Baby your pussy feels so good. Fuck, fuck please,” he gasped.

You smiled at his frantic features. He didn’t want to cum without you. It was sweet, but he really didn’t need to worry. You had almost cum just from him putting it in.

“Jungkook, c-close,” you said, eyes watery and pretty in the evening light.

He nodded. “I’m right there too,” he whispered, thrusting harder and harder into you. It had you seeing stars. He kissed you, sucking on your lips and tangling your tongues together. “Yes, yes, fuck...”

The tightening in your stomach was finally on the verge of snapping once more. Jungkook was whispering sweet words into your ears as he pounded you against your couch. “Fuck-fuck!” you sobbed, arms wrapped around his neck as he covered your body.

You felt a heat in your belly as your orgasm rushed through your body in deep pulses. Jungkook was stunned as you creamed his cock, pulling him along shortly into his own climax as he painted your walls white with his release.

He groaned your name against your neck, shivering and gently coaxing the pair of you through your two highs. You turned your head to kiss him, smiling softly.

“Holy shit,” he laughed, looking at you with a dizzying smile. “Give me a second baby, your pussy almost killed me.”

You snorted at him, kissing him once more regardless. “I missed you,” you said tenderly, pulling him closer. Even as his cock softened inside of you.

Jungkook kissed you back, cradling your head as he pulled out. His eyes met yours and he gave a sweet smile. “I missed you too, but I’ll be here from now on... I’m yours, if you want me.”

“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you said, kissing his jaw and relishing in the afterglow that was settling into your warm body.

“Keep me then,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll keep you-forever...”

#bangtan sorciere #52hertz #bts #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook smut #demon jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #Bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #witch reader #jessika hathaway

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staytinyville · 1 year ago

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Stay Alive (11)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N NOT BETA READ (I did try the best to my ability). We're heading into the chapters where I tell you guys about their creatures. I want to hear your thoughts for each one! Shoutout to @laymegentlytorest and @kingarthurscat for your reblogs and comments. I love you guys lol. Keep them coming!

That day you had walked into work, you had thought it was going to be like any other. You had grown accustomed to the normal notes you would take on a daily. There had been nothing new to write about so you had no idea on how to deal with one of your patients withering in pain on the floor.

You hadn’t been able to find the boy in his room until you walked further in and heard his distressed breathing on the other side of the bed. You rushed over to find him curled up in a fetal position, breathing harshly.

“Kook?” You gasped, falling to the floor as you hesitated touching him. “What hurts?” You asked, trying to look him over and find the problem.

“Get away.” He gritted out, hands slapping onto the floor as he tried pulling himself up.

“No, you have to tell me.” You moved your hands to help him, tightening up your body as his hands gripped tightly onto your scrubs. “I have to take care of you.” You told him, helping him onto the bed.

“(Y/N). Please.” The boy whispered, panting. “It's not a good day.” He curled back up on his bed, groaning as his body seemed to twitch in pain.

From what you could see, he wasn’t physically hurt. Not to the naked eye at least. Whatever it was that was causing him pain was on the inside of his body. You figured it must have to do with his condition.

“Let me get you something.” You told him, moving to find the first aid kit. As you found some pain meds, you quickly filled a cup with water and moved back towards him. “Here take these.” You told him, handing him the pills.

Jungkook looked at your hand, smiling stiffly at your way of helping him. “They won't help, Tokki.”

He almost broke down when he saw tears well in your eyes. “Please, Kook.” You whispered. “I don't like seeing you in pain.” You sniffled.

He tried his best to get up to take the medicine, but someone shoving the door open stopped him from moving more. You both turned to the intruder, frowning at the nurse who had interrupted.

“(Y/N).” She said, looking between you and Jungkook. “ Doctor Hanseol would like to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched Jungkosk shiver from pain, clenching his muscles to soothe them. “I can't leave Jungkook.” You spoke up, shaking your head.

“He's in the lab.” The lady told you, not caring about Jungkook’s stability. You frowned deeply, looking at the man in worry.

“Will you be alright?” You softly asked him.

“Nothing I'm not used to.” He gave you a grin, wincing as his body shuddered again. You hesitated in getting up to leave, however seeing the stare the other nurse gave you made you rush outside.

You walked out into the main lobby to get access into the lab. While your badge had access to most rooms in the facility, the lab was not one of them. It seemed much more secure that not even the lab workers could get in. They needed someone to buzz them in. You understood all the security, however it was a bit excessive.

“Sir.” You bowed when you noticed your boss looking through a window.

As you grew closer you noticed it was to show the lab where the medicines were produced. They didn’t have large machines doing the work. Rather it was a variety of researchers hand making the drugs. There were a total of 5 each, being careful with whatever it was they were mixing.

You knew the company wasn’t large, even after 10 years. They had spent a good while with research from what you saw. They had barely started to give out their drugs for trials a few years ago which meant that they weren’t out to the public yet. It takes a long while to create the right medicine. And by the looks of it HYBE was heading in the right direction.

“Hello, (Y/N).” Hanseol kept his eyes on the window. “How are you?”

You tried not to frown at the small talk. “I'm fine. It's a very nice day today.” You spoke up.

“Yes.” Hanseol said. “Indeed it is.”

You hummed, turning to him as your anxiety flowed over. “Is there anything you need, sir?” You asked, trying to be polite. “Jungkook is not feeling well and I need to check up on him.”

“Is he now?” Hanseol squinted his eyes. “I think I know why.” He turned to you finally. “Not to worry, he goes through those episodes monthly.” He explained to you.

“He does?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Such a terrible thing for him really.” Hanseol hummed, turning back to the lab.

Just as you were about to ask for more of Jungkook’s information, an alarm started beeping from the lobby. Both you and your superior rushed out to the lobby following after the security that ran into the facility.

A large gathering had formed towards the bedroom sections, which made you have to push through the crowd. Your eyes went wide as you realized the security were all in Jungkook’s room. Without thinking you ran forward to enter. However, you were held back by someone.

“Jungkook!” You yelled. You watched as the man wildly thrashed around in the arms of some larger men. He had his teeth pulled back as growls seemed to ripple from his chest. He was hunched over, trying to throw off the people holding him down.

“Hey!” You tried to punch at the arm that was tightly holding you back. “What's wrong with him?” You cried out.

“Miss you need to step back.” The security man spoke.

“No, he's my patient!” You screamed. “I need to check on him.” You wriggled more, feeling tears well in your eyes as you felt frustrated with the security. When a whimper left Jungkook’s mouth, your head shot up, wide eyes on the man.

“Jungkook!” You cried, grunting as you started kicking and thrashing.

The man quickly looked up hearing your voice. When he saw the tears in your eyes and the man holding you back, the loudest of growls ripped from his throat, scaring those in the hallway. He grew angry seeing you be held in such a horrendous manner. He pulled a security guard off his arm, throwing him to the side.

“Let her go!” He screamed, throwing the guards off him. They were quick to hold him back once more, Jungkook going back to fighting them off.

Outside in the hallway, all of Jungkook’s brothers were trying their best to rush in and calm him down, however they too were being held back. Hanseol had a scowl on his face as he watched the boy beat the best security his kind had. He guessed even ogres couldn’t hold down an angry dog.

“Hoseok sedate him.” Hanseol told the boy.

Hobi quickly looked up to Hanseol, a worried expression on his face. “But he's not in the right state of mind.” He told the man.

There were consequences to doing things wrong. With how fragile Jungkook was at the moment, hypnotizing him would put him into a deep sleep that almost resembled a coma. Hobi would need more energy to wake the boy up.

“Do it.” Hanseol sneered.

Hobi glanced at Namjoon, getting a deep sigh from the taller man. He nodded his head once, glancing back into the room where Jungkook started to break furniture by throwing bodies over them.

Hobi moved past all the guards, making quick work to enter Jungkook’s room. He had been turned around which allowed Hobi to place his hands on the boy’s head. “I’m sorry.” Hobi whispers as purple mist flowed out of his fingers and into Jungkook’s eyes.

Jungkook didn’t do any else other than fall over onto the ground in a heep. “No!” You cried, tears falling down your cheeks. “Stop! Let him go!”

“Hey.” Namjoon spoke up, taking you out of the guards arms. As the guard tried to take you away from Namjoon, the dimpled man only gave him a death stare causing him to back off.

“(Y/N), he's going to be okay.” Namjoon soothed your, wiping your cheeks. “It'll pass.”

“What happened?” You began to hiccup, soflty rubbing your face into Namjoon’s clothing. The other boys gathered around you, trying their best to calm you down.

“It's what he's here for.” Jin told you, rubbing your back lightly. “He'll be fine.”

Hanseol sighed deeply as he rubbed at his nose bridge, turning aorund to head out his god forsaken facility. When he turned up at the lobby, he found his co-founder watching from the securtity cameras. The man turned to his friend, hands in his pockets.

“He's never acted out in that way before.” He spoke up nochalanty. “He's protective of the girl.” He added looking down at the computers that showed the hallway camera.

“She's not the first one.” Hanseol rolled his eyes. “However, you are right.”

The man turned to his friend, a deep frown on his lips as he suddenly felt annoyed. “Where have you been? You know we have three patients who are affected by the full moon. I only need you two days out of the month and you weren't even here.” He glared.

“Stop calling them patients.” Kyong rolled his eyes. “You harvest from them.”

“No. That is inhumane.” Hanseol shook his head, looking appaled. “What I do is simply extract certain things at a certain time to get the DNA I need. It’s to help those who need it most.” Hanseol smiled to himself, thinking about all the sick people he was helping.

“I don't see the difference.” Kyong deadpanned.

“Of course you don't, you big idiot.” Hanseol returned to glaring. “Now come on. You got two patients to sedate.”

I'm a bitch for people using the nickname Tokki when it comes to Jungkook.

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg ,

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colormepurplex2 · 1 year ago

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On Wings of Mist & Memories | JJK

▻ On Wings of Mist & Memories ↳ DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy AU ⤜ Enemies to Lovers | Angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 39,753 ⤜ Summary: You’re a Psion—disguised Field Scribe—of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas, attached to the Front Wing Infantry. After an ambush from the sky rips down the safe walls around you, you find yourself at the mercy of a brutal man, his dragon, and his shadows. ⚠️ Crass language, combat/violence, minor character deaths, talk of war, brief nudity (nonsexual, mostly), sexual references and feelings, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts, lots of sexual tension, crude banter, fingering, kissing, dirty talk, teasing, shadow penetration/sex (it's exactly what you're probably thinking it is: fun af), lots of praise, sexual pleading/begging, endearingly awkward sexual tension, shameless flirting, oral m. receiving, shadow clit play, nipple pinching/teasing, v. sex, mild cum play & eating, multiple orgasms, sad feelings/thoughts of the future, fighting, mild violence, implied minor character death, minor character terminal sickness that leads to off-page death, talk of forced bonds, heartache, pregnancy, off-page childbirth Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Shadowsword

Chapter 2: Oath Breaker

Chapter 3: Burnished Heart

Part of the Bangtan Writers HQ August 2023 “A Love Like War” Writing Event.

A special thank you to @hisunshiine @downbad4yoongi & @peachiilovesot7 for being the best betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Glossary/Map Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user Golden Blight - incurable blood disease

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #fantasy jungkook #dragonrider jungkook #bts fantasy au #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts enemies to lovers #bts royalty #bts imagines #bangtanwhq

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muniimyg · 6 days ago

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BAD HABIT // JJK

00 | prologue // series m.list

the divinity

there are rules to the universe. constants, like the way the moon pulls the tide, or how the seasons fold into one another without fail.

and then there are soulmates.

for the divinity—the chosen ones, the ones born with a glow beneath their skin—soulmates are less of a possibility and more of a promise.

it’s not just love.

no, that would be too easy.

it’s balance, power, inevitability.

it’s their very being. if they are stars, this is the dust of their very exitance—the very essence of it. only those in the divinity can have soulmates. only the chosen ones can feel it, but the rest of the world can see it.

when soulmates meet, the universe reacts.

auras intertwine, colors bleeding into one another, something cosmic and unbreakable settling between them.

they glow.

when soulmates glow, the invisible string ties them together. being a part for an extensive amount of time leads to sickness. simple symptoms include nausea, headaches, chest pains, and general weakness—sometimes it means life or death.

you

you were always meant to return.

it’s all you ever dreamed of—the palace, the academy, the weight of your name finally meaning something again. you spent years in the outside world, away from the divinity, away from your glow, and now—finally—you’re home.

and you’re ready.

ready to learn, to grow, to embrace your power.

ready to meet the person the universe has chosen for you.

your soulmate.

what you don’t expect is him.

jungkook

jungkook has always known who he is.

he’s a prodigy, a leader, a force to be reckoned with. his aura—golden, commanding—demands attention, his power bending the world around him with effortless precision.

he is not used to things happening to him.

he is not used to surprises.

and yet—

there you are. standing in the great hall, your aura humming in time with his, bright and unshakable.

his soulmate.

his future.

jungkook stares at you, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

you glow.

context

words

divinity: the chosen ones with auras auras: power / their souls (depends on the context) invisible string: soulmate analogy glow: the glow only happens when soulmates initially meet and only happens when they're in pain or healing the outside: literally the rest of the world that isn't their palace. it's filled with regular people and these people depend on the divinity to keep the balance of the world going (good and bad, life and death, etc)

you

status; born into the 'royal' family that built the palace, that houses the academy. rumoured and referred to 'the long lost princess' as no one in the divinity has ever met you

aura; resistance and immune to everyone else’s powers. you're the one thing in this world that doesn’t bow to the divinity (to be dramatic, you are the divinity)

princessa; grew up outside the palace, living freely. this was because your parents wanted you to see life outside the palace and understand what you'll be responsible for

fate and responsibility; the upcoming leader of the divinity

jungkook

status; one of (if not) the highest of the divinity. he is the one in 7 generations to have this power. it makes him feared and at the same time; so precious

aura; mind control (speciality) but maniplates anything and anyone. from people's mind, feelings, and blood to elements of water, earth, fire, and air. he's basically avatar but emo because...

lifeline; jungkook's aura is rare and often short-lived. the more he uses his aura, his life line shortens. except, no one knows the length of his life line. it's a guessing game for everyone thus why everyone protects him

inspo

this fic has been in my drafts since paraluman and has been posted before (just the series m.list) after literal years of contemplating and multiple crying sessions over wicked (2024) ,, i have reconstructed this fic into something i'm so excited to share with you .

this fic is a mix of wicked vibes, (the anime) gukuen alice, and literally the basic concepts of soulmates (invisible string theory, symptoms when separated from soulmate, etc) and of course !!! mullet jungkook .

to be honest, i'm kinda nervy lol. this is my first time writing a fantasy au and hope to bring all i have planned for this fic into life through the best fitting words and imagery (as you can tell,, i am very nervy as i am yapping thru this) nevertheless, i'm excited to challenge my writing and to mold it into something 10x more dramatic and romantic . i hope i paint the picture just right cos bad habit jk has been living in my mind for wayyy too long . to me, he is the perfect mix of tsundere and gut wrenching simp lol ...

the series will begin feburary 14, 2025 .

all the love,

kimi ♡

#bts smau #bts fic rec #bts soulmate au #bts fantasy au #jungkook fantasy au #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x yn #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

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bluelavendre · 1 month ago

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Title: "Surviving Together"

Fandom: BTS

Pairing BTS ot7 x Reader

Major Genre: Survival, Zombie apocalypse

Zombie Au inspired a bit by All of us are dead series

Chapter 12: "The Truth Unraveled"

The streets are chaotic. Infected swarm in all directions, their relentless pursuit of anything human blurring the line between life and death. You’re on edge, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your hands shaking as you grip your weapon. The tension from earlier—between you and Hana, between you and Taehyung—is pushed to the back of your mind, replaced by the fight to survive.

Hana is next to you, but the silence between you two is heavier than ever. There’s still a sense of unfinished business lingering in the air, but you can’t afford to dwell on it. The infected grow in numbers as you push forward, battling your way through the streets. The group moves as one, each of you expertly maneuvering through the chaos, protecting one another as best as you can.

You glance over to Taehyung, your gaze meeting his briefly. There’s a sense of connection there, but it's fleeting, clouded by the immediate danger. He’s still too caught up in the survival game to focus on anything else.

And then, it happens.

The infected come at you in a flash, faster than you expected. You swing your weapon, knocking one of them back, but you barely have time to react as another lunges toward Hana. You shout, trying to warn her, but it’s too late.

With a sickening sound, one of the infected’s teeth sinks deep into her arm. Hana screams in agony, her body jerking as the infected drags its mouth deeper into her flesh.

"No!" you shout, rushing forward, but it’s too late. The infected’s grip is unrelenting, and Hana’s screams echo in your ears as she struggles to break free.

Without thinking, you charge in, slamming the infected away and managing to cut it down. But Hana is left panting on the ground, clutching her bitten arm. Her face is pale, her breathing erratic, and the reality of what just happened sinks in.

"You’re bitten," you say, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Hana stares at you, her eyes wide, and then her expression hardens. "I know," she breathes, her voice a strained whisper. "But that’s not the point."

Before you can say anything else, she stands up shakily, her body swaying as she steadies herself. Her eyes scan the group—Jimin, Jungkook, Jin, and Taehyung are all still fighting off the infected, unaware of what’s just transpired.

She stumbles forward, her voice hoarse with pain. "Taehyung!" she yells, her voice frantic. "Taehyung, you need to listen! Y/N—"

You can’t let her finish. You grab her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face you. "Hana, stop!" you warn, your voice firm. "You’re not going to lie about this."

But Hana isn’t listening. Her eyes dart to the group, and she forces the words out between ragged breaths. "Y/N—Y/N got bitten too! She’s infected! She’s the one who’s dangerous! You need to protect yourselves!"

Your stomach drops, and your heart hammers in your chest. The words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything stops. The world around you—Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, Jin—seems to freeze.

Taehyung is the first to react, his eyes narrowing in confusion and disbelief. "What are you talking about, Hana?" he asks, stepping forward. "Y/N hasn’t been bitten."

You open your mouth to deny it, to tell him it’s all a lie, but the words die in your throat. Hana’s accusation lingers like poison in the air, and for a brief, terrible second, you wonder if she’s right.

Your heart races, but you can feel it—the eyes of the boys, their suspicion rising. It’s like they’re all waiting for you to confirm it. They’re waiting for you to admit the truth.

The group stands frozen, every pair of eyes now locked on you. You try to speak, to clear the air, but the words are stuck. You can feel your pulse thudding in your ears, the weight of their stares suffocating. Taehyung’s face falls as he searches for any hint of truth in your eyes, but you know the damage has already been done.

"Y/N..." Taehyung says, his voice full of uncertainty. "Is it true? Did you... get bitten?"

The silence stretches between you like a chasm. Your mind races, your heart aches. Why would Hana lie like this? Is she trying to tear you apart? But the look in Taehyung’s eyes—this mixture of concern and doubt—makes your breath catch in your throat. You’re not sure if you can make them believe you anymore.

"No!" you finally choke out, shaking your head vehemently. "I’m not infected! I’m fine, I swear! You’ve seen me—"

But Hana interrupts you, her voice cutting through your explanation with venom. "You’re lying! I saw it! I saw the mark! She’s infected, Taehyung! I’m trying to protect all of you! If we don’t do something now—"

"Enough!" Taehyung’s voice booms across the street, a sudden sharpness in his tone that cuts through the chaos. His eyes shift from Hana to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—anything—that will clear your name.

But instead, he simply stands there, torn, his gaze flickering back and forth between you and Hana. His jaw tightens, his hands clenching at his sides. “I need to think.”

That’s it. The words fall like a hammer, sealing the silence. His gaze is full of indecision, the weight of the world crashing down on him. In that moment, you feel utterly alone. The warmth you felt from him moments ago has vanished, replaced by something colder—something distant.

Jin steps forward, his voice measured but full of concern. "We can’t keep arguing. We need to focus on surviving right now. If Y/N is lying—" He pauses, glancing at you briefly, then at Hana. "We deal with it. But not here. Not like this."

Jimin, usually the peacekeeper, stands beside him, his face hard. "We don’t have time for this. We need to move out, now. The infected are closing in, and we’re all in danger. Let’s figure this out later."

But it’s too late. The damage is done. The doubt has been planted. The seeds of distrust have taken root.

The group moves out in silence, but the tension is unbearable. As you walk, you can’t shake the feeling that they’re all watching you—waiting for any sign, any moment of weakness. The weight of Hana’s words hangs over you like a cloud.

As you move forward, your eyes dart to Taehyung’s figure in the distance. He hasn’t looked at you once since he heard Hana’s accusations. You want to reach out, to pull him back, to show him that you’re not infected—but every time you try, the words get stuck in your throat. What can you say now? How can you prove it when they’ve already begun to doubt you?

And Hana—Hana’s gaze is burning into the back of your neck. Her smirk, twisted with satisfaction, is almost unbearable. She watches you closely, like a predator waiting for its prey to break.

You don’t know how much longer you can keep it together. The virus isn’t the only enemy you have to fight now. The truth—whatever it is—is slipping through your fingers, and you don’t know how to stop it.

To be continued...

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chimcess · 22 days ago

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Pitch Black Masterlist || jjk

— Pitch Black: the masterlist

"Stranded on a barren planet lit by three suns, a group of survivors struggle to survive after their transporter crash-lands. Their situation grows dire when pilot Y/N discovers that every 22 years, an eclipse plunges the planet into darkness, unleashing swarms of flesh-eating creatures. Facing both external threats and internal tensions, the group forms a fragile alliance. As mistrust and secrets surface, Y/N's complicated dynamic with convict and murderer Jungkook intensifies, making the fight for survival against the darkness and the creatures even more perilous."

Status: Ongoing

Prologue to be continued...

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7brownsuga7 · 5 months ago

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The God who answers after dark ☆

One - Remember:

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Summary: Time has slipped through your fingers since that last encounter with him—the one where he showed you a side of intimacy you hadn’t known before. His touch lingered long after he left, a haunting reminder of what it felt like to be close to someone in ways you couldn’t fully comprehend. You’ve tried to push it all aside, to erase the memory, but the ache of his absence runs deeper than you expected. Forgetting, you realize, only sharpens the memory, bringing it back with an intensity that leaves you torn between longing and pain. Every attempt to move on is met with flashes of that night, where your body remembered even when your mind resisted. The confusion wraps itself around you, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he exposed in you. You want to let it go, to find peace in his departure, but the harder you try to forget, the more vividly it returns. Remembering, it seems, is a cruel paradox—you cannot forget without confronting everything that you wish you could erase.

Tags&warnings: Jungkookxfemreader, fluff and a bit of smut if you would call it that?!?? Jungkook is obsessed with reader, a bit delusional. Flashbacks, descriptions of penetration. MDNI!!!

Word count: 2k+

Note: took me forever to post this, my bad lol I was procrastinating. Doesn’t have that much smut because idk I’m genuinely tired LOOL? I’m more for fluff nowadays.

Comment to be added to tag list

Tag list: @rutukn

The God who answers after dark ☆ series master list: Here ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You found yourself waiting for the darkness.

Unsure of which one.

The one that lulls you towards a dreamfell night. Where you feel the most comfortable as the stars and moon shine through your window. Where you feel as if it’s just you, the world so still, so silent.

Or the one that races through your mind like water down/through a stream. That reminds you of the night itself. Everywhere you went he was there. You could feel him all around you just like the night you shared together.

He was in the air embracing you

He was the moon constantly changing, revealing different phases of himself with every passing day. He was the odd comfort you felt when you were out amongst the dark sky.

He was the darkness

You missed both.

Falling asleep before the night even came. And too stubborn to call out his name.

A name that you gave him once when you were younger, that he held onto years past that.

The night was as warm as his touch on you that night. The wind gentle like his hold on you. The breeze caressing your skin like how he did, so effortlessly, it felt right.

You’d never admit you was waiting for a particular presence, as much as you loved the night itself , you’ve grown accustomed to something more greater than that.

And even though you could still talk to the wind and the trees like you used to when you were young, it’s not the same as hearing his alluring voice sink into you.

You waited for him to come. Even though you were avoiding him, you hoped he wasn’t avoiding you.

You wonder if he never came because you never called for him. Or maybe because you’re just another human in his little game.

So you laid there reminiscing. Other times trying to forget. And even trying to keep those memories forever, as you wrote them in your diary.

And when day came you missed his presence, even though he still lingered around. The sun kissing your skin like how his soft lips once did.

You were angry because everything reminded you of him. You couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

So you tried to forget about that night. About him. You decided to forget it and only remember what life was like before.

But what was life like before?

He’s been around for most of it.

You aimed to distract yourself with any possible thing.

But how could you when you can still feel his touch lingering on your skin. Like a stubborn burn that stings and leaves a faint scar.

Before how he made you feel. Before you knew what a man’s touch felt like, what his touch felt like. Having him on you, all around you, inside you.

But he’s not a man…

He’s a thing, something so much greater than what you’ve imagined him to be. And that’s what you try to remind yourself, despite you trying to forget him as a whole.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was day again.

You’ve forgotten what night feels like. What it looks like. You miss watching the stars decorate the dark sky. You miss hearing the creatures of the night come out. You miss him… and you miss the quietness the night brought.

The quietness you wish you heard right now as you walk across the busy campus.

Your thoughts run wild, familiar and unfamiliar faces cross your path as you try to reach your destination.

You’re sure you’re loosing it when you feel a familiar presence walk beside you, and feel the familiar chill run down your spine when he says, “Out of all the humans I’ve come across, I always manage to find myself drawn back to you”

You look beside you, once a space of nothing but air now filled with none other than himself.

You’ve been avoiding him as much as you can since the last time you both saw each other. Since you last let him see you in a more vulnerable light.

You didn’t know how to deal with the situation, so you did what you did best and that was avoid.

“You’re not drawn back to me, you simply chose to be here. You can be anywhere in the world and you choose to be on a campus with me” you mutter bitterly.

“Your tone is distasteful y/n. Nothing like how sweet you sounded when you were calling for me”

You pause, stopping in your tracks when you catch the smirk on his face.

“We said we won’t speak about it”

“You said my love. I only make deals, not promises”

Not wanting to feed in to whatever he’s doing, you continue to walk. Not caring if he follows you or not. Still, you ignore the way you feel when you notice him swiftly make his way back beside you.

Time passes.

Just the sound of endless chatter between the people making their daily route, and the faint sound of cars passing by lingers between you two.

It’s nice. It’s not awkward like you had imagined. Tense yes, but when was there ever not tension between you two? It was just right. Like it had been before you both crossed that deadly line. The line you both saw but had never spoke about. The line you had always been curious about, whether you should cross it or not, or let it be just a mere thought you had that you tried to shove to the back of your mind, but would always make itself known whenever you laid in bed thinking of how it must feel to be touched.

“Do you know you’re the only person that’s ever given me a name?”

You peer at him, waiting for him to continue. Your eyes curious as you study the side of his face, wondering why he decided to say that.

His face carved and structured by none other than yourself, yet you always seem so surprised whenever you see him. So in awe at how one’s mind can create such a beautiful thing.

He continues, “I told you before that we don’t get given names, our only identity is the thing we are, the thing we own. For me it’s darkness. I used to love it, it held so much power. It made me feel like I was worth something. Not until you decided to call me-“

“Kook” you say. The name you gave him as a child feeling foreign on your lips. You hadn’t called him that in a long time, deciding to leave that name in the past.

“Kookie” he corrects.

“Hm, well I think you’ve grown out of that now” your tone holds the same bitterness as you continue walking the route to your class.

“I was waiting for you to call on me” his words linger in the air like the aroma of a freshly cooked dinner - warm, inviting, and comforting, making you feel instantly at home .

You’re not sure if you sense a hint of vulnerability hidden within his words. His words seeming more cautious as he continues, “I dont see you staying up anymore. You used to be perched by your bedroom window watching the sky, diary in your hand. Why not now?”

You ignore him choosing not to give him the satisfaction of hearing the truth.

You’ll ever admit that your favourite time of the day is night. That you feel less lonely during that time, less worried and less afraid. You’ll never admit that you look forward to a certain presence that accompanies you during that time.

You’ll never.

Even if he may already know, he’s a god after all.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” His hand catches yours, pulling you to a stop. His eyes are dark, waiting for you to answer him. They mimic the stars. It’s like you’re looking into a galaxy, his eyes holding so many unanswered questions, so many wishes and dreams. You feel yourself falling, falling in everything that is him.

Everything around you turns into night. You feel like you’re stepping on clouds as you get caught up in this little world. Just you and him.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” He asks again and you know it kills him to do that. Pride being one of his main traits.

There’s no escaping this. He’s trapped you.

There was only one other time he’s done this, created a space just for you and him, it’s when you were younger, he took your hand and brought you to this same place, the darkness. It was a way for you to escape your life for a while. He did it without a thought after seeing you cry to him, the hurt in you voice doing something to him that he’s never experienced before. That he’s sure only humans feel.

And now you’re here again, his whole presence surrounding you as his question lingers in the dark.

“Why did you leave?” You retort.

The corner of his mouth twitches, it’s typical of you to brush off his questions.

“That’s who I am. That’s what I do. I come and go. I’m not a constant, I obscure”.

You let his words sit with you, suffocate you, until they seep into your thoughts, twisting your perception, weighing you down with a heaviness you can’t shake.

You don’t blink when you say, “I didn’t call for you because just like you said, You come and go, you obscure. I needed clarity, not shadows” your voice comes out fainter than you had hoped.

You force yourself to look him in the eyes, the deep abyss of what you found yourself always looking forward to see. You didn’t think it was possible for them to darken, but they do, as well as everything around you.

“And yet you still seek those shadows. I know you look for me whenever you see them” his hand delicately brushes against your cheekbone, slowly making its way to caress your jaw. “My dear y/n, you fail to realise sometimes clarity isn’t always what you need. It’s the shadows that show you what’s truly there, hidden beneath the light.”

With his touch still on you, he leans in and whispers, “you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you”

And just like that memories of any intimate moment you both shared flashes around you, flooding your mind, surrounding you in a whirlwind of forgotten warmth. But was it really forgotten?

As the memories flood in, suddenly you're enveloped in the darkness of your room. The air between you crackles with unspoken longing. The world outside ceasing to exist as your eyes meet for a moment.

You blink as another memory hits. You reaching out fingers trailing lightly along the curve of his jaw, feeling the coolness of his skin under your touch. The darkness around you stills as his breath catches while he gently cups your face, his thumb brushes against your cheek with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The space between you two tightens, your breaths mingling as his lips brush yours, forming into a kiss that is soft and reassuring, filled with a promise of deeper want, need.

“Do you remember my love?”

How could you forget? The way your kisses deepened as you pulled him closer to you with your fingers threaded through his hair. The way your pussy would throb just from his mere presence alone. The way his fingers worked on your body, playing you like one of his instruments you know he loves.

He knew your body so well, even when you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

A flashback runs through your mind every few seconds. Filled with images and feelings of what was and what could have been.

His cock slowly fills you, stretching you, every inch making you feel how tightly your body grips him. He's the only one who's ever had you like this, the only one to feel your warmth, to claim every inch of you. You were so wet and ready. Your moans mix with his, rising together in a rhythm, a breathless symphony that fills the space between you. Each thrust draws out another note, a melody of shared pleasure, building in intensity as your bodies move in perfect harmony.

His scent surrounds you, rich and earthy, intoxicating in its rawness. He's everywhere— inside you, around you, filling every inch of your senses. His touch is light, almost ghostly, yet it leaves a trail of heat in its wake, making your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if even the air between you hums with his presence, leaving you craving more.

You shiver, not from the cold but from the intensity of his gaze as his eyes roamed over you, drinking you in. His fingers brushing along your exposed skin. You remember the way your breath hitched when his mouth followed, hot and wet against your skin, his tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made your back arch, pushing you closer to him.

His other hand, still on your waist, gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

The feel of his cool, bare skin against yours was intoxicating, sending a wave of chills coursing through your body. Each slow, agonizing stroke made your breath hitch, your pulse quicken. Every touch, every movement, was a reminder of how deeply he held you captive-body, mind, and soul. His hands explored with deliberate slowness, as if he had all the time in the world, drawing out every sensation, every shiver. You could feel the weight of each moment, the way it lingered between you, an unspoken intensity building with each soft caress, until nothing else existed but the raw, electric connection.

Everything comes to a stop and you find your self short of breath, just like you were that night.

Your mind is a whirlwind, unable to distinguish between what's real and what's imagined. Between what you’ve lived and what you ache to relive. He’s left you tangled in confusion, unraveling every certainty you once had. He hasn’t just unsettled you—he’s undone you entirely. He’s confused you, he’s ruined you.

When you escape the chaos of your mind, seeking the comfort of his familiar eyes, you're pulled back to that night you shared—only to be left alone once more.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The God who answers after dark ☆

- mimi ☆

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rhonnie23 · 5 months ago

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Bts Group Chat: 3

❗️🔞MDNI🔞❗️

Pairing: ot8 x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing(nothing new), mentioning of face riding(once by reader) they call reader Baby

SS: 9

A/n: I did this a month ago but haven’t had the time to post it. Sorry hope you like it. Also I’m not completely back yet might upload more this weekend but I make no promises😘❤️

<<Part 2.5 Part 4>>>

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅ ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚⋅

Taglist open~

@megtheekpopslut @svtrighthereworld @ipurplebtsminyoongi @namjoonandchanswife @whoreforchanin

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yoongsisbae · 2 years ago

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Bon Voyage: Into the Sea - Chapter 6

A storm capsized your boat and looks like you were the only survivor. Somehow you made it to shore, but where? Stranded, you suddenly find out you are not alone, and now you’re stuck in the middle of a centuries old conflict between 7 monsters.

BTS fantasy AU. OT7 x reader. werewolf!Namjoon x werewolf!Hoseok x werewolf!Jungkook x siren!Yoongi x vampire!Jimin x vampire!Jin x whatis?Taehyung.

If you enjoy this series and want more updates, please leave a comment or reblog!

Warnings: smutty content, mind control, blood-drinking cause vampire things, dubconish, light yandere, voyeur, lots of neck licking lol

Word count: 12.1k

---

“You are going to be the reason we all die.”

“Jimin, stop,” Jin says. “Dove, we need to know what Taehyung said to you,” he asks, much more diplomatically.

You shake your head, trying to make your way closer to the vampires, but the men around you have made an impressive barrier. How are you going to explain the lost months you experienced, the things you witnessed in Jimin’s memory? You stare at the angry younger vampire, how are you going to convince Jimin to help you?

“Jimin, you need to bite me.”

“What?!”

“What did you do to her?!” Hoseok roars at the vampire in question, who looks equally as shocked and offended at the accusation.

“Nothing!” you interject, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“He did something to her to make her act like this!” Hoseok yells louder, turning his frustrations onto his pack leader.

“She has been calling out to him since we found her,” Yoongi tells Namjoon, confirming Hoseok’s accusations.

“What?! What did you do!” Jungkook growls out. “I’ll kill you-”

“It’s my fault that she's obsessed with me?” Jimin crosses his arms, looking away like the entire display was beneath him.

“Do you want to stop Taehyung or not?!”

The men exchange looks. “We need a plan, a real one,” Yoongi says, dismissing you. “The longer we wait-”

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks.

“I can look,” he says, “don’t hold out hope now that his binds are off.”

“And how the hell did they break?!” Hoseok yells accusingly.

“Don’t look at me!” the merman counters, “There should have been no fucking conceivable way to break those spells,” he glances towards the youngest vampire who furiously glares back.

“Well it happened, okay, and now is not the time to argue about it, we need to work together to stop him, there is no telling what he is capable of now.”

“Hello!? I have a way to stop him!”

“What is it, Dove?”

“I told you! Jimin needs to bi-”

“No! No way in hell.”

“Oh I am going to kill you!”

“KILL ME?! I’LL KILL YOU.”

“Everyone, silence!” Namjoon bellows and a tense silence settles in the air.

You speak up first, desperate to make them understand you. “Jin, why exactly did you forbid Jimin to bite me in the first place? Huh? Why?!” you challenge him.

Everyone stares at the eldest, even the vampire in question himself. Seokjin’s finger runs over his forehead, moving a stray lock of hair back in place. He clears his throat, “I did not want to cause him any pain-”

“What do you mean pain?” Jimin asks, repulsed. “She can’t hurt me!”

You huff, “Your memories, Jimin, your life-”

“There are certain memories better forgotten,” Seokjin interjects.

“No, no,” you say shakily. You had wished to forget this place so many times locked up in the vampire’s lair, and then when you did, you lost more than just the memories, you lost yourself. “No.”

And Jimin, he too, is lost.

You glance over to the defiant vampire. “You have to bite me, you’re the only one who can stop Taehyung!”

Jimin looks around at everyone’s concerned faces, growing more irritated. Why does he have to be the one to stop Taehyung? Jimin never agreed to even help! And what makes you even think he has that kind of power?

“Why?” It was Hoseok who questioned you angrily, upset at the way you are treating Jimin with such fondness. “Why him?!”

“Because he knows magic,” you say simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I d-don’t know magic,” he spits out. You couldn’t be any more wrong, Jimin thinks, who the fuck do you think you are, acting like you know so much about him, better than himself!

But everyone is silent, eyes full of guilt and remorse, looking at him as if they know something he doesn’t. The kind of look that Jimin despises.

“You do,” you say with more conviction. “When you were human. I can show you.” You hold out your arm to him as the pack tries still to barricade your body away from the vampires.

“What is she talking about, Jin?” he turns to the eldest.

“Jin, we don’t have time, you need to be honest with him!”

“Shut up! You are the reason we are even in this mess to begin with, you know that? Just how many times did we tell you to not get so comfy with Taehyung. You let him use you, because you’re weak, you’re-”

“And what about you?! You let Taehyung use you too, didn’t you?!” you scream, your anger getting the better of you.

“Stop!” Namjoon bellows, “Everyone, stop!” He looks furious with you, his hard glare instantly making you feel small and apologetic.

“Don’t order me around, you filthy beast!” Jimin hisses at Namjoon, deep and threatening, his eyes glowing with rage.

“We don't have time,” you whimper desperately.

Your head is pounding. You feel it…

…inside of you, in the back of your mind…screaming, wrapping around your bones…

…the dread of something horrible coming for you all.

Jimin can’t believe he’s stuck here until sunset! Inside this idiot infested house with the biggest of the idiots telling him the most ridiculous things he’s ever heard. It’s insufferable, you’re insufferable, the way you stare at him now. Whatever spell Taehyung inflicted on you has only changed you for the worse.

“Jimin, I’m afraid we need to work together on this.” The younger vampire yanks himself away from Jin’s comforting hand. He’s beginning to think Seokjin is equally to blame as much as you. He’s beginning not to trust him…

“I’m not fucking helping any of you,” he stares at you, glowering. “Let Taehyung tear you apart,” he growls, baring his fangs.

You shake your head in disbelief. “You wanted to be a doctor, you loved helping people, you became a medic in the military. You fought for your country, you saved people,” you ramble on and on, hoping to convince the vampire to listen to reason. You’re angry that no one has told him, they should have, this shouldn’t be coming from you!

Jimin yells, picks up and throws a wicker chair in your direction in his anger, which Jungkook stops with ease, the chair exploding when it hits the youngest’s shoulder.

Hoseok has had just about enough of Jimin, he hasn’t forgotten the scars he witnessed across your body, he hasn’t forgotten the way you looked so fragile when he found you. This was all the vampires’ fault, and Jimin most of all. That arrogant, cruel, deceptive little-

Hoseok transforms instantly, pouncing on Jimin.

Yoongi pulls you back as the others transform as well. You’re both thrown to the ground as they fight, as they tear the house apart from the inside, unable to cohabitate any longer.

You groan, rolling over, still attempting to get to the headstrong vampire, your hand pressing into broken glass and blood escaping.

At the smell it wasn’t Jimin, but Jin who lost control. So many days drinking from you, addicted in more ways than one. His eyes glow red, searching out your blood.

Namjoon’s large snout sinks its teeth into the eldest vampire and the fighting only escalates tenfold. Everything is loud, everything is chaos. You try to keep moving closer to the chaos still, until you notice something familiar in front of you.

You notice the redness of the gem that had fallen out of Yoongi’s pack in the chaos, now shining brighter than ever.

Oh no. You can feel it again, pulling you in. You shuffle backwards, clutching your chest, closing your eyes tightly as the gem burns brighter, glowing like the vampires’ eyes then glowing even more until it envelops the entire home.

“Do you all want to stop Taehyung or not?!”

The men exchange looks. “We need a plan, a real one,” Yoongi says, dismissing you. “The longer we wait-”

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks.

“I can look,” he says, “don’t hold out hope now that his binds are off.”

“And how the hell did they break?!” Hoseok yells accusingly.

“Don’t look at me!” the merman counters, “There should have been no fucking conceivable way to break those spells,” he glances towards the youngest vampire who glares back.

“Well it happened, okay, and now is not the time to argue about it, we need to work together to stop him, there is no telling what he is capable of now.”

“Hello!? I have a way to stop him!”

“What is it, Dove?”

“I told you! Jimin needs to bi-”

“No! No way in hell.”

“Oh I am going to kill you!”

“KILL ME?! I’LL KILL YOU.”

“Everyone, silence!” Namjoon bellows and a tense silence settles in the air.

This is getting you nowhere. Good God, how are you supposed to make six stubborn beings listen to you?! Think, y/n. Think! You try to come up with a plan, but your head is throbbing in pain.

Jimin speaks up first, “Just what are you playing at, pet?”

You look up at him. “Pull my memories. You’ve already done it once. Just do it again.”

Seokjin looks over at the younger vampire in disbelief.

“I have not,” Jimin looks at you furiously for getting him in trouble over a lie. “She’s obviously suffering from some delusional episode! Listen, you wretched human girl! You’re nothing to me, you mean nothing, so stop these fantasies! right! now!”

“You have, and we saw your mother. You just, ugh, don’t remember because it happened in the future, ugh, just-” you groan, clutching your head. It’s pounding more than ever, and you feel it, inside of you, in the back of your mind screaming, wrapping around your bones, the dread of something horrible coming for you all. Your body starts shaking and Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist to steady you.

Jimin can’t believe he’s stuck here until sunset! Inside this idiot infested house with the biggest of the idiots telling him the most ridiculous things he’s ever heard. His mother? You saw his mother? How dare you even talk about her! Like you know anything about her, like you know more than Jimin, who well, knows nothing about his mother…and he doesn’t care to know!

Who the fuck do you think you are, acting like you know so much about him, better than himself! It’s insufferable, you’re insufferable. Whatever spell that Taehyung inflicted on you has only changed you for the worse. “See! She’s lost it,” he yells, pointing at you. “So weak!”

“Please, I’m not lying,” you cry out. You feel sick. You just want to save them, why won’t they listen to you?! Jungkook holds you tighter as your legs give out.

“What’s happening to her!” Hoseok looks over to his leader worriedly, holding onto your shoulders to keep you upright as you slump forward.

“I think it has something to do with this,” Yoongi pulls the red amulet from his pouch, holding the necklace up and letting it dangle for everyone to see.

“No!” You can’t stop it, it’s already starting again, the red glow emanating directly from the gem, covering everyone and everything in that same red hue, until that’s all you can see.

You clutch your chest, closing your eyes tightly as it burns brighter, until it envelops the entire home.

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks.

“I can look,” he says, “don’t hold out hope now that his binds are off.”

“And how the hell did they break?!” Hoseok yells accusingly.

“Don’t look at me!” the merman counters, “There should have been no fucking conceivable way to break those spells,” he glances towards the youngest vampire who glares back.

“Well it happened, okay, and now is not the time to argue about it, we need to work together to stop him, there is no telling what he is capable of now.”

“Hello!? I have a way to stop him!”

“What is it, Dove?”

“I told you! Jimin needs to bi-”

“No! No way in hell.”

“Oh I am going to kill you!”

“KILL ME?! I’LL KILL YOU.”

“Everyone, silence!” Namjoon bellows and a tense silence settles in the air.

You feel your stomach turn again. You feel winded, like you’ve been running. You massage your temples, wiping away the accumulating sweat. God, how are you supposed to make six stubborn beings listen to you?! Think, y/n. Think!

“Why?” Jungkook speaks first, voice full of pain. “Why Jimin out of all of us?” Your heart drops at his hurt expression. You don’t know the right way to explain to Jungkook, to all of them, why this needs to be done, especially now when your head feels like it’s about to explode. When did you become so jittery? What is happening?! You try to concentrate and think, but where do you even begin?

“W-We all know the power they have, right?” You gesture to the vampires. “The way they can look into your memories when they…but Jimin has never bitten me,” technically that is correct in this point in time, “only Jin-”

“Yeah, and just why is that?” Jimin looks at the eldest vampire pointedly, crossing his arms, fed up with Seokjin’s obtuse answers. “Explain.”

Seokjin sighs, straightening the wrinkly shirt Namjoon had given him to wear. “It was for your protection,” he addresses Jimin.

“Protection from what?!” Jimin asks, repulsed. “She can’t hurt me!”

“We don’t have time for this,” you mutter. You feel it, inside of you, in the back of your mind screaming, wrapping around your bones, the dread of something horrible coming for you all. “Seokjin, make Jimin bite me!”

“SEOKJIN DOESN’T MAKE ME DO ANYTHING,” Jimin roars. You couldn’t be any more wrong, Jimin thinks, who the fuck do you think you are, acting like you know so much about Seokjin, about him, better than himself!

“THEN JUST BITE ME!” You scream back. “You’ve been wanting to all this time!”

The pack watches you argue, stunned into silence. This is news to everyone else; Jimin hasn’t bitten you? And furthermore, Seokjin didn’t want him to bite you. Seokjin had found Namjoon and explained most of what happened, but not that.

---

“Stay here, in case Hoseok returns.” That was a direct order from his pack leader, and as much as Jungkook wanted to disobey and run towards the thundering noise that had rattled their home, the older shapeshifter was leagues above the young wolf in strength and dominance.

It was luck that Namjoon encountered the pair of vampires instead of his brothers. If it had been anyone else, the vampires might not have made it out with their heads. But Namjoon was always the type to observe first, take everything in before making any rash decision, it’s what kept him alive this long and made Namjoon a leader.

Jin and Namjoon were talkers. They were, even in their wildest days, the best at beguiling, enticing, drawing in others with their words, and upon meeting, they realized they had finally met their match. Namjoon’s most favorite nights were conversations with Seokjin, picking apart the intricacies of the humanities. Two beasts had become obsessed with learning and gaining a humanity of their own.

Namjoon would have torn them apart otherwise. But the magical blasts had knocked the younger more confrontational vampire out, and Seokjin pleaded with Namjoon to listen to his story. “Taehyung has escaped.” With a start like that, Namjoon couldn’t resist not learning more.

With the sun soon rising and Taehyung out there somewhere, Namjoon had little options left but to invite the wounded vampires into his home.

While you were in another part of the island healing and trying to bridge the peace amongst two headstrong beasts, Namjoon and Seokjin were coming to their own kind of peace, a détente at least for the time being, an opportunity to speak to each other like old times now that they had a bigger enemy then themselves.

---

“Well now I don’t want to.” Jimin crosses his arms, looking away.

You look at him in disbelief. Ugh. This is driving you crazy, there is no time to be like this. ‘Fucking Jimin,’ he really knows how to push your last button. Fuck, you are so over this!

You think about the crying man on the floor, covered in your blood with a broken expression on his face, you think about that sweet boy, crying for his mother. Somewhere deep inside Jimin is that sweet boy who cried.

You look down at your nails with one last hope remaining. You’ll just have to make him drink from you.

You dig your nails into your forearm, scratching your skin as deep as you can.

But it was Seokjin who lost control. So many days drinking from you, addicted in more ways than one. His eyes turning red, searching out your blood.

Fur envelopes you, Jungkook and Hoseok shielding you with their large canine bodies while Seokjin lunges for you, stopped short by Namjoon’s fangs.

Jimin throws the beast off the older vampire. Jimin, full of rage, tears his sharp nails into Namjoon’s coat. Yoongi screams for Jin, his influential words finally knocking him out of his blood stupor. Then he calls out to the younger vampire, “Jimin, stop.”

But Jimin is already too full of rage to listen to reason. He can’t stand being stuck in this idiot infested house any longer. It’s insufferable, you’re insufferable, the way you stare at him now. Whatever spell that Taehyung inflicted on you has only changed you for the worse! He should have never listened to Seokjin! He’s beginning not to trust him-

Seokjin addresses the two wolves next to you as the younger vampire lashes out. “Take her out of here, hurry!” he yells, attempting with difficulty to retain the younger vampire with Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s help.

“No!” you scream at the top of your lungs, “You don’t understand!”

A deep growl from Jungkook frightens you into silence. His fangs are around your stomach, only holding you still, not puncturing into you, but it’s terrifying nonetheless as he yanks you backwards, his hind legs digging into the earth.

You cry once outside, unable to pull yourself together. You pull at Jungkook’s fangs, attempting to unlock his jaw from your side and the large beast begins to whimper in anguish at your attempts to flee from him, extinguishing the fight inside you.

Nothing is working! Nothing! It’s hopeless, you’re all going to die, you think, either by Taehyung’s hands or by each others. You cry harder into Jungkook’s fur, who has wrapped his large canine body around yours.

“…what?” You see it from the open door and your body acts on impulse as you claw at the ground, trying to move closer, uncaring if Jungkook’s teeth tear at your skin. Tears dry up as you watch the house start to glow red, brighter than anything you’ve ever seen before.

No, that’s not quite true. You’ve seen that red glow befo-

“We need a plan, a real one,” Yoongi says, dismissing you. “The longer we wait-”

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks. “Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” you murmur to yourself. Jungkook and Jimin glance towards your way.

“I can look,” he says, “don’t hold out hope now that his binds are off.”

“And how the hell did they break?!” Hoseok yells accusingly.

“Don’t look at me…” you whisper. “Don’t look at me!” the merman counters, “There should have been no fucking conceivable way to break those spells,” he glances towards the youngest vampire who glares back.

“Well it happened, okay, and now is not the time to argue about it, we need to work together to stop him-”

“There is no telling what he is capable of now,” you say in unison to the leader, finally aware this is not just some strange case of deja vu. All eyes turn to you. Jimin scoffs, just like he did before, pulling on Seokjin’s shoulder. “...I-I want Jimin to bite me!” you yell.

“No! No way in hell.” “No! No way in hell.”

“Oh I am going to kill you!” “Oh I am going to kill you!”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Jimin screams accusingly.

You look around, your gaze stopping on the eldest. “Seokjin, make Jimin bite me!”

“SEOKJIN DOESN’T MAKE ME DO ANYTHING,” Jimin roars. “Seokjin doesn’t make me do anything!” you yell back in unison, a satisfied smirk on your face, pointing directly at Jimin.

“How the fuck are you doing that?” the merman questions.

You rub your temples, trying to make sense of it all. ‘This happened before, why has this happened before? This has to be Tae’s doing!’ “I don’t know, I don’t know, but we’ve already had this conversation, and I-I think, I can’t remember, something must have went wrong...Jimin, you need to bite me, right now!”

“Well…” he clears his throat, looking around as everyone has gone deathly quiet, “now I don’t want to,” Jimin crosses his arms.

Ugh! ‘Fucking Jimin,’ he really knows how to push your last button. “Listen, you’ve already done it once! Just just do it agai-wait, no, we did this already…something is wrong…”

“Maybe it’s you!” Jimin accuses. “Taehyung has already gotten in her head, how can we trust her?” he warns the others.

“You’re...right!”

“Y/n?”

“Jimin is right. I can feel him,” you shudder. “Which is why you need to bite me, because I know for certain, Taehyung doesn’t want you to.” You hold your hand to him.

“And if this is a trick?”

“Ugh, I’m not tricking you! I want to stop Taehyung for you, you idiot!”

‘Idiot’?! How dare you call Jimin an idiot, when you’re the biggest of the idiots in this idiot infested house! “And suddenly you have my best interest at heart?!” Jimin yells back, disgust evident.

Ugh, your head is killing you, and you feel it, inside of you, in the back of your mind screaming, wrapping around your bones, the dread of something horrible coming for you all.

You try to think about everything that has transpired since you met Taehyung, trying to see if you missed anything-

“Wait, wait, wait…ugh, let me go!” you yell at the pack surrounding you. You press yourself against the door, opening it quickly and falling into the sand.

You look up at the sky, taking a deep breath of fresh air to calm yourself. It’s still daytime, but not for much longer, and you’re scared of what night will bring.

Yoongi is by your side, lifting you up. “Y/n,” you think he is about to dismiss you like he always does, but instead he says, “tell me what I need to do to help you.”

“Yoongi...” You’ve never seen him so sincere before. “Do you think you can use your siren song on Jimin to-”

“I can hear you, pet! It doesn’t work! And I should kill you for even suggesting it.”

“Touch her and I will kill you!”

“KILL ME?! I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Ugh,” you groan, turning your back as the group of stubborn monsters in front of you begin to bicker, deja vu hitting you hard again. “What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to change?” You ask yourself out loud, head in your hands.

Yoongi holds you steady. “Something definitely is up, and I have a feeling it has something to do with this-” Yoongi looks through his pack.

“T-That’s it! Wait! No!” You yell as Yoongi pulls the gem out of his pack, letting it dangle in his hand.

But it’s too late. You can’t stop it, it’s already starting again, the red glow emanating directly from the gem, covering everyone and everything in that same red hue, until that’s all you can see.

‘Y/n, take it.’

You fall back to the ground and clutch your chest, dismissing the words inside your head, closing your eyes tightly as the gem burns brighter.

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks.

“I can look,” he says, “don’t hold out hope now that his binds are off.”

“And how the hell did they break?!” Hoseok yells accusingly.

“Don’t look at me!” the merman counters, “There should have been no fucking conceivable way to break those spells,” he glances towards the youngest vampire who glares back.

“Well it happened, okay, and now is not the time to argue about it, we need to work together to stop him, there is no telling what he is capable of now.”

“Hello!? I have a way to stop him!”

“What is it, Dove?”

Okay, this is it. “Seokjin, you need to bite me.”

“What!?” Jimin yells angrily.

You look into Seokjin’s eyes, silently pleading with him. “The memory pull, it’s going to work now. Please,” you urge, holding out your arm to him as the pack tries still to barricade your body away from the vampires. “Look into my memories and you’ll understand!”

Jimin pulls the eldest back as he advances. “You’re really going to obey her command? Just like that! Taehyung might have already gotten to her, how can we trust her?!”

“You’re right! Jimin is right. I can feel him. Which is why…” you swallow, looking at Jimin, remembering this same conversation said just another way, wondering just how many times you have tried to convince them. “Which is why, you need to bite me.” You move your eyes to Seokjin, staring ahead steadfast. “So you can see the truth!”

“Why?” Jungkook speaks up, voice full of pain. “Why Seokjin out of all-”

You grab the youngest’s face and kiss him abruptly, silencing his worries.

Hoseok’s stares at you, mouth agape. He doesn’t know whether to be furious with you, or satisfied that Jimin and Yoongi both look so furious with you for kissing the youngest shapeshifter.

“Trust me, please,” your hands shake in your desperation, squishing his cheeks as he looks at you in shock and awe.

“O-Okay,” Jungkook nods.

The eldest vampire sighs and starts to move closer much to Jimin’s astonishment and disgust. You try to push past the pack’s strong bodies. It hurts them to see you try to go to their enemy, but they let you pass.

Jimin crosses his arms, scoffing as the eldest meets you in the center of the room. Jimin can’t believe he’s stuck here until sunset! Inside this idiot infested house with the biggest of the idiots telling him the most ridiculous things he’s ever heard. Suddenly you want Seokjin to bite you now? When you were just throwing yourself at Jimin! Why?! What happened? What’s the reason? You’re so annoying, you’re insufferable, the way you look at Seokjin with so much hope and trust.

Jimin grinds his teeth together in anger, so hard his fangs begin to pierce his bottom lip.

Seokjin puts his hands up, glancing towards the pack leader, meaning no harm before he bends his head closer to your neck.

“Wait!” Jimin speaks up. “Y/n, you wanted me to bite you, didn’t you? So come here then!”

“Jimin, I-”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Jimin cuts Seokjin off. “You didn’t listen to me about Taehyung, about her, and then you made a truce with them without even asking me! You’re lucky I even speak to you at all!” Jimin is furious with Seokjin, he’s beginning not to trust him...

You raise your eyebrows. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Jimin seethes.

You smile, running past Seokjin. You hold out your wrist to Jimin, looking up at him hopefully.

Jimin scoffs again, gripping your arm painfully and yanking you closer. The wolf trio begin to growl in anger, baring their fangs.

“I choose where I bite you, pet.”

You try to remain calm as the trio behind you let out low threatening growls. Jimin smirks, spinning you around by your arm, hugging you against his body like a shield and snickering at how angry it makes them.

The pack looks ready to attack. Yoongi begins to step forward in his growing anger.

“No!,” you stop him, “J-Just let him do what he wants,” you mutter.

Jimin smirks. “If it was what I wanted, you would be on your knees with your mouth shut.” He sneers, gripping your chin painfully tight and yanking your head backward. “And your head down, thinking about how stupid you are for walking right into Taehyung’s trap.”

‘Like you did,’ you think, keeping your temper in check. “I know you’re scared, it’s okay.”

“I am not scared!” he hisses, nails digging into your side. You wince. Namjoon’s growls become louder.

“Namjoon, stop!”

Jimin smirks again. “Yeah, listen to her, dog. Since we are all at this human’s mercy,” he scoffs. “You seem to know so much about what happens next, so tell me, is it going all according to your little plan?” He presses his body against yours, holding you tightly.

“You like this, don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, obscenely grinding himself against your backside. Jimin rests his chin on your shoulder, arm still secure around your waist, smirking, intent on drawing this out for everyone involved, “them watching.” His hand grabs your breast roughly.

Your eyes meet Yoongi’s eyes, dark with anger, and you shut them in shame.

You breathe through your nose as he fondles you for everyone to see, letting out short breaths when he rests his hand over your throat, choosing to submit in hopes he’ll eventually do what you want.

Jimin’s fangs scrape across your shoulder as he revels in the intoxicating feeling of power he has over you and everyone else, finally feeling better about his new situation. He breathes in the anger emanating from everyone in the room, inhaling your sweet desperation most of all.

His fangs scratch the surface of you, up the sensitive skin of your neck until you bleed.

Seokjin drops to his knees, panting heavily, addicted to your blood in more ways than one. Jimin stops, looking over to the older vampire. “I’m fine,” Seokjin pants. “I’m fine.”

Jimin looks coldly down at him, how disgraceful that he’s let you affect him so much. That’s what he gets for drinking from you all the time, for not letting Jimin! He licks the blood off your neck and you shudder. Jimin moans loudly, tasting your blood again finally.

The pack looks ready to kill, they bare their fangs, the restraint in their growls long gone.

“I’m sure they can all smell you from here, I can,” Jimin whispers in your ear, hand pressing down on your lower stomach, taunting you, “You’ve learned to be a good little pet, hmm? Here’s your reward.” Jimin presses his fangs into the column of your neck, directly on your pulse.

“What the hell?” the merman mumbles. There is something glowing in Yoongi’s pack. He fumbles with the latch to inspect it. Yoongi yanks out the red glowing gem, confusion evident on his face.

Oh no. You can feel it again. A familiar voice starts to call out to you. If it wasn’t for the pain in your neck keeping you present, you surely would have lost control.

You clutch your chest as the gem burns brighter. “Jimin! You-”

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks.

“I can look,” he says, “don’t hold out hope now that his binds are off.”

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?” Jimin roars, advancing on you and the pack.

“You saw– You know–” you look at Jimin in disbelief. You reflexively cover your throat, the punctures are gone, but your heartbeat is still fluttering. “It wasn’t me!” you yell back.

The younger vampire yanks himself away from Jin’s protective hand. “Taehyung…” Jimin growls. “And you!” He points an accusing finger at the merman. “Give me that gem in your pack right now!”

“How did you know about that?” Yoongi glares at the younger vampire.

He scoffs, “I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“Well then fuck off,” Yoongi spits out.

Jimin can’t believe he’s stuck here until sunset! Inside this idiot infested house with– ‘Wait,’ He feels it, he can’t explain it, but it’s there, all around him, an inevitability that he can’t control, and it pisses him off! Jimin spins around, baring his fangs, claws ready to strike.

The group watches Jimin spin around angrily like a confused dog chasing its tail.

“See,” you glare at Jimin, “See how annoying it is!”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Taehyung. The gem is his. And it seems he’s still using it somehow.” Jimin reasons, looking around at the familiar scene. “Give it, we need to destroy it,” Jimin holds out his hand impatiently. “DAMMIT YOONGI! We don’t have time for this!”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” you huff.

The merman holds onto his pack defensively. He doesn’t trust Jimin, but he knows they have to work together to stop Taehyung. Jimin is untrustworthy, but Jimin is powerful, more than he even realizes. So Yoongi holds his tongue and relents.

You clutch your head in your hands. It’s pounding more than ever, and you feel it, inside of you, in the back of your mind screaming, wrapping around your bones, the dread of something horrible coming for you all. “Get it away from me!” you cry out.

You press yourself against the door, opening it quickly and falling in the sand. Jungkook and Hoseok follow you out, worried for your safety and your quickly declining state of mind.

Jimin scoffs again. Pathetic, he thinks. Humans are scared of their own shadows. He turns his attention on the merman, waiting impatiently. He tries to ignore how close the others are to him as the men huddle around to look at the necklace.

Jimin holds the gem in his hand, inspecting it. The weight of it in his palm is heavy. He touches the smooth rock, the gem itself is small, but the energy surrounding it is immense, a familiar power the vampire can’t quite put his finger on. ‘Why isn’t it glowing?’ he thinks, and as soon as the thought enters his mind a slow bright red light begins to emanate around the gem.

“What’s going on?” The pack leader questions, staring at the gem, ready to strike anything that appears.

“I don’t know.” Jimin doesn’t know how to stop it, but he wishes for whatever is happening to halt.

And as soon as the thought entered his mind the glow begins to recede back into the gem.

“Jimin, you should hold onto that necklace for now.” Seokjin speaks.

Jimin looks up and the expression on Seokjin’s face surprises the younger vampire. He’s seen that hardened look before from Seokjin, in moments when the older vampire begins to feel sentimental. Most recently, the night you came to them. Jimin never questioned it before, but now he wants to, he wants to know all the secrets Seokjin is keeping from him. Jimin is beginning not to trust him-

He grabs the eldest’s shirt collar, yanking him close. “You know what this is?”

Seokjin remains unaffected by Jimin’s outburst, covering Jimin’s hand with his own. “Now that I’ve looked at it up close, yes, I’ve seen it before. I believe, that necklace,” he sighs, “used to be yours. A long time ago, I saw you wear it. Or something very similar,” he swallows.

But before you, Jimin has never seen this necklace before in his life! He stares at the gem. That familiarity he feels can’t be– no, that feeling is just like the other moments of deja vu he has been experiencing, it’s not because…is it? Does this necklace belong to him?

You stare at the wolves’ den, refusing to move any closer. Nothing has happened yet, there is no red glow, and no immediate danger, but you feel at any moment everything could change. You look up at the sky, it’s still daytime, but not for much longer, and you’re worried-

“Y/n?” Hoseok shakes you when you don’t respond.

“Hoseok…” You wonder how many times this moment has repeated itself. Has Hoseok looked at you like this before, his care for you evident in his soft gaze? You try to remember and make sense of what is real. “That necklace, Taehyung used it to escape. I-I don’t know how, I don’t know why. I– Ahhh!”

Your nails dig into your scalp as you desperately try to claw away at the pain. The pain is radiating at your temples, just behind your eyes, in the back of your head, behind your ear-

“Hey, y/n, hey!” Hoseok holds your trembling body, patting your cheek, reminded of the moment he found you on the beach. Your eyes stare at the sky, far away, like you’re lost in your head, unable to hear him.

“W-What’s happening to her?!” Jungkook whimpers. You just came back to him and now he fears he might lose you completely.

Hoseok picks you up into his arms, holding you securely to him. “I don’t know, Namjoon will know. I’m taking her back inside.”

You want to tell him no, you want to tell him to wait, you don’t want to go back in, but you can’t find the energy to open your mouth to speak the words. Your body is betraying you, your vision starts to cloud, and you realize darkness is coming for you, even with the sun still high up in sky. You wish more than ever, you could start over again-

“Yoongi, do you have anything left that might be powerful enough?” Namjoon asks.

“Oh,” you groan, falling forward, unable to hold yourself up. The youngest of the pack wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his embrace before your knees hit the ground.

Jimin looks around, the gem still heavy in his palm. “The necklace,” he murmurs. It didn’t glow red this time and yet-

“Jimin!” The merman hisses, glaring at the vampire who has somehow taken the gem from Yoongi without him noticing, “Don’t move.”

Jimin’s body, and mind, suddenly feel sluggish. It lasts only a moment before the vampire is shaking himself out of the merman’s mind control. Jimin can’t help but laugh at his weak attempt.

“DON’T MOVE,” Yoongi bellows, his words echoing throughout the wolves’ den, and everyone, including Jimin, freezes.

“What are you doing, Yoongi?!” Namjoon grunts, stuck in place by the merman’s words.

“I don’t know how, but he stole that from me, from my pack.” The merman walks with purpose while Jimin struggles to move.

Your eyes go wide when you notice what’s happened. “It’s not his fault,” you mumble, glancing at Namjoon, your eyes and mouth the only part of you able to move, “I think...w-we’re stuck in a time loop.”

“A w-what?” Hoseok grunts, trying with all his might to turn his head.

“W-Well...it’s a lot t-to explain and you’ll probably forget it all anyways,” you whine.

Namjoon raises his brow. He can only slightly move his neck now, and struggles to turn his head to look at you. “Perhaps you should explain anyways. Now.” His tone is serious, potentially menacing if you were being honest.

“I know it sounds crazy, and I know you don’t want him to, shit, what haven't I explained to you yet? Jimin hasn’t actually bitten me yet, well, technically not yet, he has, but it was before I came back, from the future, into now-another time thing.” You start to remember clearly now, though it seems to be still very hard to explain, “Anyways, I know about Jimin’s past! And everything, and-”

“Is she making sense to you?” Hoseok mutters.

“Oh you’re so lucky we haven’t had this conversation before or I would be really blowing your mind,” you grunt.

Jimin’s arms jerk backwards as he fights the merman’s impressive mind control. “It’s mine! Give it back!” Jimin hisses as Yoongi plucks the gem out of the vampire’s hand mere seconds before Jimin regains control of himself again.

“Jimin, we don’t have the time,” you groan, your limbs finally moving again. “Jimin!” you yell, pulling the vampire’s attention away before he attacks the merman in his anger.

You struggle in Jungkook’s arms, holding out your wrist to Jimin hopefully. “You know what you have to do, before it happens again!”

“No!” Jungkook barks, lifting you off your feet to end your advance.

Jimin exhales. This is insufferable, you’re insufferable, you’re, fuck– It’s happening again. He bares his fangs, letting his anger simmer over this constant deja vu.

“Wait! Let me see it, that necklace,” Seokjin steps forward curiously.

Yoongi throws his arm backwards out of the vampire’s reach, the gold chain accidentally hitting your outstretched hand.

The gem touching your finger.

It felt like just a graze, so quickly it couldn’t have been longer than a second. Yet you felt it through your whole body.

And then pulling right behind your ear.

And finally you understood as the brightest flash of red light quickly comes and goes. You hear his voice again, commanding you to do something else, something horrible...

You want to tell them all to run, to escape, but the only words your lips can speak are-

“Taehyung, come in.”

The door shatters, knocking everyone inside to the ground.

The back of your ear feels like it’s on fire and like you summoned the devil himself, Taehyung appears behind you, lifting you up. “Ahh princess, now where did you put my jewel?”

You stand paralyzed by fear, as if gravity chained your limbs to your body.

“Taehyung, leave her alone!” Jungkook roars, and he somehow looks more imposing than the pack leader himself.

Taehyung laughs, looking around incredulously at the monsters surrounding him.

“I’m saving her from you!” He pulls you close and despite your fear, you gravitate to him. It reminds you of Yoongi’s siren song, but more painful, dark, like ropes around your limbs, a noose around your throat. “You would rather use her, draining her life away because you want a pretty pet-” he looks at Seokjin, “-or keep her here on this island, chained like a prisoner, like you did to me! You just can’t see her potential!”

“You...betrayed Jimin...this is all your fault,” you grunt, barely able to speak the words out loud.

Taehyung looks at you, eyes softening. “Your loyalty to my brother is sweet. After everything they did to you. You really are perfect. I knew it when I first met you, we were fated to meet. You were the one who was going to save me, and now I can save you.” He holds you close, embracing you how he always wanted to, no chains or shackles between you anymore. “You saw Jimin’s story and believed him. I’ll show you mine, y/n. You’ll see once and for all.”

Yoongi’s nose is bleeding from the explosion. He has the gem hidden in his palm. He doesn’t quite understand how Taehyung appeared so suddenly, or what the gem has to do with it, but he figures no good will come from Taehyung having it, and he intends to risk everything to keep it away from Taehyung.

He looks at your pain stricken expression and suddenly realizes, no, he can’t risk everything.

“They should have cut off your hands,” Yoongi mutters, wiping away the dried blood from under his nose and standing up. “Thy were too nice to you. When I defeat you I’ll make sure your next cell is underground and twice as small,” the merman tries to goad Taehyung away from you.

“Monster,” Taehyung frowns. “Do you know how many humans he has killed, y/n? How many they’ve all killed? Have I ever killed anyone!” he yells.

“You were going to kill Seokjin!” Jimin argues.

“Seokjin is evil!” he yells back. “And not a human.”

“Okay, Taehyung, you want retribution, we’re all here now. So let y/n go, can’t you see how scared she is?” Namjoon questions, crouching low in fighting stance. His calmness is even more menacing than his anger, you think.

“She doesn’t want me to let her go,” Taehyung smiles, his chin pressing into your shoulder as he continues to hug you close. “Tell them you want to be with me.”

“I want to be with Taehyung,” you cry out, terrified how the words left your lips so quickly, of the way your control is slipping away.

“See, she’s my destiny.” He grins, triumph dripping from his words.

No, no, no. You clutch your chest, where the pain emanates the most, right over your heart.

“Oh, that’s where it went.” Taehyung sighs, petting your head softly. “I’m sorry, one of my attacks must have hit you hard. Let’s go back, out of reach this time. Now, where is my necklace? Tell me, y/n.”

Yoongi, Yoongi has it. It’s Yoongi. It’s Yoongi. It’s Yoongi. Yoongi.

You clench your jaw so tight your teeth begin to hurt. “Who took it?” he asks sweetly.

“Yoongi...” You begin to cry. “Please don’t hurt him!”

The merman speaks up, “Oh, he won’t hurt me.”

“You haven’t changed at all, so arrogant, acting like you’re better than everyone else!” Taehyung says, staring at Yoongi’s closed fist. He flicks his wrist over, fingers pulling at the air.

A glowing red light starts emanating from Yoongi’s palm, an inescapable power ready to burst from the tiny gem, red streaks of light between his fingers cut through the wolf’s den, knocking back anything it touches.

Yoongi yells in pain, but he refuses to let go of the necklace.

Unlike the others, when the red light hits Taehyung, he can easily redirect it with his hand, and his beam hits Seokjin, knocking the vampire right in the chest.

You see singes across the eldest vampire’s body, his clothes tattered and deep burn scars across his skin. Yoongi’s hand looks charred too, he yells and doubles over in pain, still fighting to hold onto the necklace. The others are fast, dodging the attacks, but how long can they last?

Hoseok is hit next, he turns into a wolf instantly, charging towards you. Namjoon runs in to attack Taehyung, who shifts your body in front of the leader.

The wolves are trying so hard to save you from Taehyung, it breaks your heart to witness the pain they are going through. How can you save them? Protect them? You feel so useless, so human and fragile. A mere pawn in a game played between kings.

If only there was a way to restart this day again.

“Y/n, don’t,” Taehyung whispers in your ear.

The wolves are too worried for your safety to use their full force, something Taehyung uses to his full advantage as he moves closer to the merman still fighting to hold onto the gem.

Jimin doesn’t care about your safety. He crashes into both of you.

You feel the weight of both men on top of you, suffocating you as Taehyung covers your body with his to take the brunt of the vampire’s wild attacks.

However, Taehyung’s physical strength seems to be unmatched, he throws the vampire as if Jimin weighed nothing with only one arm, the other holding your wrist so you can’t get away.

He moves closer to the struggling merman.

This can’t be happening, it can’t end this way, after everything you’ve been through.

Perhaps it was how close to victory Taehyung had been, so close he was only thinking about the outcome of his winning, the great future ahead of him. He was distracted just enough, and the reigns he had held over you loosened just a bit. It cleared your mind just enough, made you hope, wish for help to come for Yoongi and the others.

Your wish fluttered inside you like a heartbeat, pulling you, and this time, pulling everyone…

Through time…

To a place where the merman had an advantage. Your wish was granted.

The thumping receded and seawater filled every space around you suddenly. You were underwater, deep in the sea. You looked around and saw red and blue flashes of light, the shadows of the beast’s bodies around you, blood like red ribbons leaving their wounds. You slowly kick towards the sky.

How deep are you? You don’t know if you can make it to get in air in time.

You scream, the sound muffled underwater, when fingers reach for your hair, jerking your head down.

It’s Jimin. By the look in his eyes you think he might drain you right here, let you drown in a sea of blood, but he reaches for your hand instead and pulls you to the surface at inhuman speed.

Spluttering, you gasp in air as the ocean lights up the night with streaks of power flashing under water.

“You’re coming with me,” he grunts, dragging your body back to land.

“Yoongi! The others!”

“Hold your breath!” Jimin pulls you back under when Taehyung resurfaces.

You inhale in quickly. You see the sparkling merman’s tail reflecting under water as he attacks Taehyung again.

Red light explodes underwater. Pulsing through the ocean, knocking you back into Jimin. He pulls you away from the fighting, closer to shore until you can stand above water.

You try to keep up, but the night waves crash into your body knocking you off your feet. Jimin drops you into shallow water. You gasp for breath while he looks over you. It reminded you of when you first met him, the way his body is over yours. But his eyes aren’t the same, there’s no hatred in them like before, Jimin looks lost, Jimin looks…sad.

He grabs the front of your dress and rips it, exposing your cleavage. Your arms cover your chest and he yanks those away too. You almost scream, but he doesn’t do anything but look at you. Then his finger traces the scars on your chest, making you shudder. The scar lines form a deep v across your chest, connecting around your neck.

“It was you.” He grips your neck, startling you. “Fix it. Now!”

Moonlight is speckling the ocean’s surface. The water calmer than usual. “Take us back to before Taehyung arrived. Before…” he shudders, looking out at the ocean, up towards the moon angrily. “This is your fault.” Jimin lunges for you, his claws pulled quickly away by Jungkook rushing to your side. Jungkook picks up your exhausted body, wading deeper in the water, glaring at the vampire. “Let’s go.”

“Follow me.” Yoongi yells, further out.

When you reach Yoongi, the youngest reluctantly hands you to him. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“He…took the necklace,” Yoongi says bitterly. “Ready?”

You look at the dark water all around you. “W-Where are we going?”

“My home.”

Yoongi swims down to the sea floor. You hold his hand, let the current and his strong fin lead you to the furthest depths of the ocean.

There’s no light, only the faint sparkling reflection of Yoongi’s tail is visible to your human eyes.

Your feet touch the sandy floor. The pain in your ears lessens the longer Yoongi breathes air into you. It’s an odd feeling, walking the sea floor, a place certainly no other living human could walk alone.

‘Jin.’ Your body stiffens in fright. You see the vampire, lying suspended upon the ocean floor. It frightens you how dead he looks, floating there, but for as long as you’ve known him, Jin has always been dead, hasn't he? Jimin passes, hooking Seokjin’s floating arm over his shoulder and pulling the vampire along.

You reach an underwater cave and swim inside. It’s tunnels are vast. The coral crevices hold things, some are man-made items, some magical.

The coral of the cave winds around, creating tunnels that are compact, walls that are cramped together. It’s dark and lonely inside, there is no light, no warmth. Is this where Yoongi stayed? It makes you feel sorry for the merman, makes you want to fill his life with warmth. He swims around quickly pulling things from inside the pockets of coral.

It’s impressive how the wolves can hold their breath, but even at this depth for so long they are having trouble. Even you are almost out of the air Yoongi gave you.

The merman swims to the cave’s bottom. There’s a purple wooden door situated at the cave floor with a spoked handle. The color reminds you of the one in Seokjin’s office. He begins to turn the vault handle quickly, unlocking the door. You watch, holding your body against one of the coral walls, making sure you don't float away.

You begin to choke on water. The door opens finally and the others rush inside, quickly escaping down into the depths. Yoongi finds you, kissing you. Slowly, taking his time now.

Submerged in the water, floating, he became the only thing that grounded you. You wish you could speak underwater and tell him how sorry you were for letting Taehyung inside, for causing this all to happen. You kept your lips pressed to his, hoping to convey how apologetic you felt. Yoongi hugs you close and dives into the vault.

You break the surface of the water, somehow right side up now. You wipe the water away from your face as Yoongi holds you to him. You look around the small cave, a part of the underground cave system inside the island. You look down at your bodies still submerged in the water, you should be upside down. How is that possible?

It never ceases to amaze you, the magicalness of this place.

“How is he?” you call out.

“I’ve seen better days.” The vampire in question grunts. Seokjin has definitely seen better days, the usually put together vampire is the most beaten you’ve ever seen him, lying on the cave floor unable to move.

“Jin, would it help?” you offer your wrist to him. You were the only human here.

Seokjin swallows, “Yes.”

“Let me help him,” you beg the others. Namjoon lifts you out of the cave pool. Everyone looks so beaten they don't fight you, they stay silent as you make your way to Seokjin.

“Are you sure, Dove?” he grunts.

You nod, lying against him, finally letting your tired muscles relax. Seokjin drank from you countless of times before, what’s one more?

---

Jimin breaks Seokjin’s jade statue, smashing it to pieces.

“Get away from me!” he screams, “w-who are you?!”

You see Seokjin and Namjoon standing next to him. And you see Hoseok. You see Taehyung.

“Is it normal to forget?” Taehyung asks, watching Jimin curiously.

“No…no,” Seokjin swallows. Had Seokjin really been too late to save Jimin?

Jimin screams and screams, clawing at his throat. It’s dry and itchy, he feels like he’s burning from the inside out. “Stop. Stop it!” The pain won’t stop!

“He needs blood,” Hoseok says, his tone urgent and worried.

“If we bring someone to the island, he’s not going to be able to control himself.”

“I’ll find someone no one will miss,” Hoseok suggests.

“No, it’s still a life.” Namjoon interjects, watching the display, clenching his jaw when Jimin screams again.

“And what about Jimin?!” Hoseok argues. “What about his life?!” You can feel his anger, you feel it too within Seokjin.

“If it’s someone who deserves it, someone bad?” Taehyung speaks up, wincing as he watches his friend writhe in pain.

“Let’s go hunt one last time, old friend,” Seokjin mumbles, unable to look Namjoon in the eyes, watching instead the horrible state Jimin is in.

“Okay, okay.”

It was an easier find than they had thought. During a dark club night, the music boomed as a regular flirted with a young woman. Upon entering the club, Namjoon and Seokjin noticed all the tell tale signs immediately, the signs of a predator..

While Namjoon bumped into the couple, and riled up the man by cozying up to his unsuspecting victim, Seokjin quickly switched their drinks, the one the man had spiked for his date switched with his clean one. While the drug worked its magic, you looked around the club, listening to old music. You watched the bodies on the dance floor move together in almost one fluid motion. You missed it, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve had that kind of fun. Your heart raced as the beat of the song quickened, as urgency ran through the vampire’s cold veins instead of blood. You want to dance. You want to kill that man. You want to save Jimin. Complicated emotions filter through Seokjin and into you.

Your mouth goes slack as you press your body closer, your hands fisting Seokjin’s tattered shirt. “You’re taking too much!” Namjoon barks.

“I’m sorry.” Seokjin licks your wounds clean as your vision goes hazy and you slump against him. No, you wanted to see more, to listen to more-

---

“Where are you, sweetheart?”

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung covers your cheek with his hand. “Tell me where you are so I can find you, get you away from them.”

“No! You stay away from them!”

Taehyung’s arms cage you in, his body above yours. “Y/n, please,” he begs, lowering himself over you. “I can leave the island now, but I don't want to go, not without you.” He wraps his arms around your body, hugging you close to him in a suffocating embrace. “Please come with me, I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Despite everything, you feel sorry for him as he shakes against you.

No, no, no! He’s the same man who tried to betray Seokjin. What would he have done to Jimin if he had succeeded? What is he going to do to you? You press against his shoulders, trying to push him off of you. Taehyung covers your lips with his own, lessening your resolve.

His lips work a different kind of magic, he presses his tongue inside your mouth, runs it over your own, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. You grip his shoulders, unsure whether to push him away or closer. He kisses you for so long you wonder how he hasn’t broken away to take a breath, you wonder why you don’t have the need to either.

You gasp when Taehyung decides to move lower down your body, his lips licking across your neck. By now, he’s made sure to keep you locked to him, holding onto both your wrists so you can’t push against him. Even when he shifts his digits and intertwines your fingers, he keeps his weight heavy on you.

“It’s not fair, I can only have you in my dreams like this,” he chuckles against your skin. “Please be with me. Together we can explore the whole world, do whatever we want.” Taehyung was so excited to see all the new technology you had described to him during your long visits. He wants to experience it all with you.

You take in a ragged breath, suppressing a moan every time he sucks and rolls his tongue over your skin. “Promise me you won’t hurt them.”

“I promise.”

You don’t believe him.

You can’t believe him.

It feels like a lie, it all feels like a lie.

“Where are you?”

“In a cave.”

“There are thousands of caves on the island, do you know where?”

“I d-don’t know.”

It’s true you don't know, but there are words you could use to describe the cave. You could tell Taehyung how you got there, about Yoongi’s magical door. But you bite those words down, hiding the whole truth.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” He rests his forehead against yours, runs his thumb over your kiss bitten lips. He can't wait to have you, to mark you, to make you like him.

You touch the necklace dangling from Taehyung’s neck, and he rips your hand away, gripping your wrist so tightly you can feel the pressure in your bones.

Fear trickles down your spine and catches in your throat once you realize how entangled you are to him, how easily he could hurt you if he wanted to. The Taehyung you knew had been so unthreatening, like a lonely puppy tied to a tree, only wanting attention.

The shackles took away any threatening aura, you only ever felt safe with him, you hadn't yet known what he was capable of...

Taehyung feels your heart beat jumping against his lips. “You’re scared of me, why?” he frowns. “Have I ever given you a reason to believe I would ever hurt you? Jimin hurt you, Seokjin hurt you,” he adds.

You swallow, unable to answer him. He’s right.

“If you hated Seokjin so much...why did you want to become like him?”

Taehyung holds you loosely now, smiling softly. “You know...Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook, their powers slow their aging, but one day, they’re going to grow old, they’re going to grow weak. They’re going to die,” he hums.

“T-That’s no excuse-”

“Sometimes we have to lose everything to gain everything.”

“Is that what you told Jimin before you took everything from him?!”

“Seokjin’s affliction really did rub off on you. What will you say when you make him remember and he still wants to rip your throat out?”

You swallow, silenced by his words.

“Tell me where you are so I can protect you,” he presses his lips upon the column of your neck tenderly.

“T-The cave-”

“Yes?” Taehyung runs his tongue along your throat, enjoying the way you tremble against him.

“-a d-door-”

His hands knead your side, up your body, gripping your mounds, caressing your suppleness.

“A door? Invite me in then, sweetheart.”

Your fingers tangle his hair, pulling him closer to you. Then run down his neck, slipping under his necklace.

You yank the gold chain, screaming.

---

“You’re awake,” Jungkook says happily. You’re lying nestled in between bodies, warm in the otherwise cold and dark cave. “Are y-you okay?”

You close your eyes, calming down, shaking your head, worried your words won’t be your own.

Namjoon holds your hand, “Y/n, can you tell us anything about what happened to the watch I gave you?”

Your hand cups your neck, where Seokjin’s bite is now healed over. “T-Taehyung, he said he would ‘fix’ the watch for me. He must have, because...it must have been, three months ago? I found that red amulet, it was from Seokjin’s shop, it appeared in my hand and then I heard Taehyung’s voice in my head, and…and I-I had no control...” You remember it clearly now, “The watch took me back in time and broke as soon as I used it.”

You look down at your hands. “But I still had the one I hadn’t used yet, from this time…” you say, absentmindedly touching your collarbone out of reflex. “When the explosion happened, I-I don’t know, I-I lost them.” Namjoon inspects your neck, gently adjusting the torn fabric of your dress.

He looks over his shoulder, where the merman lazily swims in the cave pool. “Yoongi?” he asks.

“The stronger the magic, the more uncontrollable it becomes. If Taehyung’s attack hit her...and the watch…anything could be possible.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Does that human brain of yours not work at all anymore?” Hoseok complains, sitting at the top of your head, looking down at you with crossed arms. “The watch’s magic, it’s inside you.”

“...what,” you ask horrified. You trace the scars across your chest, running up your clavicle and around your neck.

“You were trying to protect yourself from Taehyung,” Yoongi says knowingly. “You took us forward in time.”

Yoongi had noticed the stronger tides, looked up at the moon, and realized the phase had shifted 4 days ahead.

But how could that be? Then when he mentioned it to the others, they all realized…

“I-I can’t control it.”

“And we’re not even sure what it does to her when she uses it,” Hoseok says, concerned, thinking the worst. There is no telling what will happen to you in the end, are you losing hours off your life? Days?

“Where’s Jimin?”

“Cooling off, taking a late night swim.” Seokjin sighs. “Dove, what happened between you and Jimin in this future of yours that makes you think he will be so cooperative?”

It felt wrong, telling his story, intimate memories that he didn’t even have the chance to see yet. “His past…”

“You know his whole past?” Hoseok asks. You nod. “And you trust him? After everything you know?”

“You don’t know what he’s been through! Taehyung-”

“They worked together to betray us all,” Hoseok scoffed.

You shake your head. “Taehyung knew Jimin before he knew you, Hoseok.” You’ve seen enough of their memories together to see how protective Hoseok had been over Taehyung. But the secrets Jimin and Taehyung had kept weren’t even knowledgeable to Jimin anymore.

“No-”

“Yes.”

“Did you know about this?” Hoseok turns to his pack leader.

He shakes his head no, “They acted like strangers. Did you know?” Namjoon turns to Seokjin.

“He didn’t speak much of his childhood, even when he was human.” Seokjin hums, “The few memories of his childhood I pulled did not have any indication they knew each other. They had only become close after Jimin was turned.”

“No, they were always close.” you say, sure of yourself. “I can’t prove it, yet, but I don’t think what happened was an accident,” you look at Hoseok. “It wasn’t your fault you lost control, Hoseok.”

Hoseok's eyes start to shine in the shadows of the cave as tears well up. “No,” he says in disbelief. It was his fault. He turned Taehyung into a beast like him, and he’s never forgiven himself because of it.

He shakes his head, unable to let your words really hit him.

“Well, we can only learn the whole truth from Jimin himself. Help me this time, please?”

---

Jimin returns later than usual, right before sunrise, his mind no less at ease.

“Well, it almost worked last time.”

Has Seokjin been drinking from you this whole time?! Jimin scoffs, settling himself away from you and the others.

Seokjin does it messily, letting the blood drip down your shoulder, covering your chest in the red liquid.

You let a soft whimper escape your lips, moaning. Seokjin’s hand moves from your hip to resting between your legs

“Are you going to be doing that all day?!” Jimin barks, his words echoing in the small cave.

“You haven’t drank in a while, brother. Come drink.” Jimin swallows hard, smelling your blood, the sweet iron scent fills the cave. He remembers the previous time loop, the taste of your blood still a strong memory. It never happened, he hasn’t really tasted you, yet that’s now all he can think about. He remembers it distantly like a dream. Or rather a nightmare, how can you possibly be this annoying to him without even trying? Jimin silently seethes as his throat becomes itchier and drier.

Jimin looks over at the wolves, who seem to be minding their own business. There is no way they are not affected by this...lewd display! He narrows his eyes on Hoseok, the jealous one, who sits crossed-legged and crossed-arms, eyes closed and jaw clenched.

“You’re joking?”

“No, I saw them do it before with other girls,” you mutter, unable to meet Hoseok's eyes, “in Seokjin’s memories.”

Jungkook rests his head against the pack leader’s shoulder, shaking his legs to a song in his head he is using to distract himself, and Namjoon acts completely unaffected. Jimin scoffs, Namjoon sure has the best poker face, but Jimin knows this is bothering the pack. They probably finally figured out they’re weaker ones amongst them, Jimin thinks.

“Well if you won’t, then I will.” Namjoon speaks up.

Namjoon pulls your leg, pulling you closer to him as he crawls over you. His strong hands press your legs open so he can settle in between them.

“You know my kind bites too. We don’t do it to suck blood, our bite is different. But, I wouldn’t mind eating you up,” Namjoon teases, his deep voice even deeper in his gruffness.

You know this is just an act, but your heart escalates at the thought, remembering the younger werewolf acting so brazenly. Devious suits Namjoon so well, the roughness in his nature is so attractive.

Jimin grits his teeth at such a revolting thought.

“You’re just going to let him put his filthy paws all over her? You’re going to hand her over just like that?”

“I haven’t let her go.” Seokjin caresses your temples, smearing blood across your face. “We used to do this all the time. I’ve gotten used to Namjoon’s scent.”

Jimin looks away, looking for the merman, someone else he can yell at.

“Joon, wait. Jimin, did you want to drink from me instead?”

“No thanks,” Jimin hisses.

You look back at Namjoon. Seokjin lifts your hand to his mouth, biting down on the fleshy part of your palm. It hurts, he is usually better at making the pain feel pleasurable, but his objective isn’t your pleasure, it’s to cause maximum blood flow, to make you cry out in pain, knowing your whimpers will entice Jimin the most.

Namjoon’s lets his teeth scrape across your thigh. “Shh little Dove.” He uses the pet name Seokjin gave you. “Don’t cry, I’ll make you sing.”

It’s so hot in this goddamn cave. The smell of everyone’s arousal is assaulting, inescapable.

“My turn next,” Hoseok calls out.

“I’m going to mark her as my mate,” Jungkook growls, eyes darkened at the sight of you writhing in pleasure and pain.

Jimin has had it. He has had to endure being in their company for this long, but now the dogs want to defile what is his? Yes, you are his and Seokjin’s! They paid fairly for you, you would be dead if it were not for them. You are theirs! You are his. And you are the only human left on this damned island, Jimin had searched all night for any signs of life to no avail.

“I’m going to rip out your teeth,” Jimin threatens lowly.

“Did you say something?” Hoseok says flippantly.

“You don’t think I know what you’re all doing?”

You look between yourselves in silence.

“You’re just giving up! Taehyung really turned you into a bunch of cowardly dogs. You’re just gonna stay in this cave like a bunch of animals in heat while Taehyung does god knows what!?”

You continue to look between yourselves in silence.

He points at you. “She said if I bit her, we could stop Taehyung!” He yanks you to your feet so hard you feel the whiplash in your bones. “Isn’t that right? SO WHY ARE YOU WASTING YOUR PRECIOUS TIME WITH THEM?!” Jimin yells so loud his words echo over and over again.

You blink. “You’re right, Jimin.”

Jimin moves behind you, tilting your head. He licks the old blood off your shoulder, suppressing a groan at the taste. “If this doesn’t work-” he growls.

“It will.”

“Then I wont stop until it does.” All your blood will be Jimin’s one way or another.

He licks his lips before sinking his teeth into the column of your neck.

---

Just like that, you and Jimin revisit his bedroom, a memory you both shared, your past and his future had Taehyung’s plan not have worked.

Jimin roars, pulling away. Your body spasms with too much blood loss. Jimin looks down, your blood covering his body, his pants undone. How is he in bed with you? He was just in the merman’s cave, drinking your blood.

No, he is in the merman’s cave. This is a memory.

Jimin remembers.

He gently turns your body over. Your breathing is ragged, strained, your eyes try to focus on the vampire above you.

Now you remember, it was the first time Jimin looked at you without hatred in his eyes. Tearing the flesh from his arm, he puts the wound over your mouth and you drink until your body relaxes. Then cautiously, Jimin lowers himself over you again, ready to see more.

---

Jin steps closer, followed by the rest of the men.

Was Jimin still drinking from you?

Neither of you made any movement.

You both fell to your knees with Jimin’s fangs deep in your neck, your eyes glazed over and out of focus.

“What happened?” Namjoon whispers to the eldest vampire. He wasn’t quite sure, neither of you were responsive, both lost in your heads.

“Little Dove?”

---

I am so excited to write some backstory finally!!! Are you excited for the next chapter?

#bts smut #bts hybrid au #ot7 x reader #bts hybrid smut #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts vampire au #bts fantasy au

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