Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Cover art by the amazing Niko!
(Mochibun_art_ on Twitter and Instagram)

Jungkook’s file comes with a long list of warnings, the one at the very top written in bold letters: 

DEADLY

Jimin stares at it each time he opens the folder, his eyes drawn to the angry red ink as if he wants to make sure it’s still there, as if he wants to make sure that Jungkook – or Specimen 177 – is still dangerous. 

It’s not exactly relief that he feels when the familiar word stares back at him. But the thought that one day that word might disappear, that one day Jungkook might be labeled as tamed, fills him with dread. Deep inside he hates the idea of Jungkook ending up the same way all the others do: Weak, lethargic, and totally helpless, obeying every command. 

He hates the idea so much that it makes his skin crawl and he doesn’t even know why. Because, frankly, he’s afraid of Jungkook. Scared shitless. He’s never going to admit that out loud, but he’s also not going to deny it in front of himself. 

Jimin has long learned that, in specific situations, masking your fears from the eyes of others is important, maybe even essential for survival. But at the same time, it’s important to be honest with yourself. Acknowledging your fear, embracing it, letting it settle inside you, living with it. All that is essential for survival too. Otherwise, your fears might shut you down. 

Jimin lives by that. Each and every day, he tries to let his fears in, allows them to make him more alert and more adept. 

He knows very well what Jungkook can do. He knows he has to be exceptionally careful around him, even more so than around the others. The pixies, for example, are harmless. The fairies and mermaids are feisty but easy to deal with. The phoenix they once caught might have been a bit of a challenge but not impossible to tame. But Jungkook— Jungkook is a different story. Because he is different. He’s special, even among dark creatures.

Jungkook is a dragon.

And even though Jimin has never witnessed Jungkook’s brutal strength with his own eyes – and he hopefully never will – he knows Jungkook has managed to kill quite a few people since the day they caught him and that, for the past four years, their science team has been trying everything to finally find a way to make him pliant. Without any success. 

It’s a mystery to everyone how Jungkook, even though injected with several suppressant shots of totally different kinds, is still able to retain his own free will. He is trapped in his human form, unable to turn into a full dragon, but unlike all the other creatures they’ve caught so far, he’s not losing his strength, not losing his fight, not losing his mind. 

Usually, a few weeks of suppressant-treatment is enough to quiet them down indefinitely, to make them submit to a master forever. But not Jungkook. 

The first master who bought him died the very moment they opened Jungkook’s cell, alongside several security guards. Something similar happened to the second one a few months later, even though they monitored Jungkook for weeks after the first incident. 

He played the part perfectly, made it seem like the new suppressants had worked, and kept the act up until the van was off the property. The only reason half of the people survived was because Jimin’s father had sent an insane amount of security after the van, armed with strong sedatives. 

“The percentage of suppressants in his blood is insanely high,” Namjoon – head of their science team – said a few days later. He spent hours analyzing Jungkook’s blood in his lab, located opposite to the part of the basement where the cells are. “I thought his body might be able to break it down and get rid of it, but that’s not the case. It’s still there but for some reason it’s not working the way it should.” 

At that, Jimin’s father slammed his hands flat on the desk, with such force that it made the monitor placed on top of it shake violently.

“Then find a way to make it work,” he growled.

“Is it because he’s a dragon?” Jimin asked quietly but the look his father threw him made him clamp his mouth shut immediately. He knew his father didn't like to hear him speak on those sides of the business. His father hated the fact that Jimin busied himself with helping in the lab and taking care of their creatures in general. 

“I will let you entertain yourself by helping in the basement,” he once told him. “But if I see your grades slip even the slightest, I will have you focus solely on your studies. Do you understand?” 

Jimin never lets his grades slip. He’s good at what he does, even though he hates it. 

Law has never been the career path he would’ve chosen for himself, but his father insisted on it. And Jimin didn’t want to anger him. 

The thing is, even though Jimin tries his best not to let his fears shut him down, when it comes to his father, he still feels like a scared little kid. A weak, helpless, cowering child.

For as long as Jimin can remember, his father has been a ruthless and violent man. 

A murderer. 

And for as long as Jimin can remember he’s been scared of him, and has never felt safe. Not in this house, not living under the same roof. 

Jimin can’t say for sure – of course there’s no evidence – but he thinks it was his father who killed his mother when Jimin was only a toddler. For what reason, he doesn’t know. Maybe she let something about the organization slip to the outside, maybe she wanted to leave, maybe she just said or did something wrong at the wrong time… 

Jimin’s father would do anything to protect his secret. 

The secret that he runs an organization that hunts down dark creatures all across the world – creatures most people don’t even know exist – bringing them to their estate deep inside the woods, where they break them and then sell them off to insanely wealthy people, who are usually all part of the same exclusive circles and keep those creatures as rare collectibles or for entertainment purposes. 

It’s a horrible crime and the idea alone of what those poor things are most likely forced to do makes Jimin’s stomach churn in disgust. He hates everything about it. He especially hates that he’s part of it. He hates that they get away with it, mostly because the rest of the world doesn’t even know those creatures really exist. 

And Jimin’s father is intent on keeping it that way. 

Jimin had always known that his father killed people, but he still remembers the very first time he witnessed someone dying by the hands of his father with his own eyes. Of course, only figuratively. His father would never actually get his hands dirty, has other means of killing. 

He does it the sneaky but clean way, the way that leaves almost no traces: By poison. 

The poison was specifically developed by their science team. A sheer purple liquid, with no taste to it, completely scentless and completely invisible when mixed in any kinds of drinks. Once it hits your bloodstream, it kills you within a couple of hours. It takes the oxygen from your blood, makes your heart beat slower and slower, until it stops completely. 

Jimin doesn’t know what exactly the sheer purple liquid is made of, doesn’t even dare asking, all he knows is that there is no antidote. Once the poison is in your blood, it’s over for you. Nothing can help you. And it leaves not a single trace behind, makes it look like the victim died from an ordinary heart attack. 

Jimin still remembers the way the pulse of the investigator fluttered hectically beneath the skin of his throat, before it got slower and slower and slower until it disappeared.

The guy came to investigate— something. Jimin doesn’t even remember what it was. Somehow, he managed to track his father down, all the way back to their estate. And he rang the bell – like an idiot – to question him.

Of course, he didn’t survive the night. After accepting the cup of coffee Jimin’s father offered him, he was done for. He collapsed in their entrance hall on his way out and Jimin was only present to witness it by coincidence, just coming back home from school. 

He was so young back then. He still remembers the big eyes staring at him, the panicked gasps for air, before the guy finally passed out and— died. Jimin witnessed someone die. 

“Shit!” He flinched when his father stepped into the entrance hall from the dining room. “I thought he’d make it farther than this, now we have to get rid of the body.” He huffs in annoyance, pulling out his phone without paying Jimin any mind, not even a single glance. And Jimin just left with hurried steps, trying to get as much distance between him and what just happened as quickly as possible, feeling sick to his stomach and cold inside his chest. He made it to his room and then the adjoining bathroom just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet, his insides clenching violently with every retch.

See, being scared was something Jimin was used to, even at a young age. He had already long started getting his brain used to the feeling of being afraid, and has long trained it into utilizing it, taking advantage of it one way or another. 

But what he was not prepared for, was the feeling he was hit with that day. A feeling, so much stronger than just the normal and simple kind of fear. 

The feeling of panic. 

Panic is painful. And dangerous. 

It’s when your upper brain is bombarded by fear to such an extent that it blinds you and takes away your capability of thinking rationally. Your actions become imprudent and erratic, you become a danger to yourself. 

Jimin felt the urge to run, to escape this place, to hide. And he almost did. With shaking fingers and the taste of vomit in the back of his throat he started packing his bag, throwing everything inside he could find. In his mind he knew it was a bad idea, that his father would send someone after him, that he would hunt him down in no time and that he would be punished for trying to run away.

That day marked the first time Jimin realized it.

He realized that, sooner or later, his father would try to kill him too. 

Sooner or later he would poison him with that sheer purple liquid and Jimin would end up just like that investigator. Gasping for air until his heart stopped beating. 

The only reason he didn’t run away in the end were the voices in the hallway, outside his door: Servants, talking in hushed tones about what just happened downstairs. 

Jimin stood with his hand on the door handle, his ear pressed to the wood for the longest time, waiting for them to disappear so he could leave. But they didn’t. They stayed there, outside his door, for so long that it gave Jimin time to calm down and collect his thoughts.

When the rationality came back, he unpacked his bag, took a shower and got started with his homework. 

One day he would leave this house. 

But not like this. He would never make it like this. 

So he just kept going with his life, trying to stay clear of his father’s wrath.

Not getting on his father’s bad side was one of his ways to protect himself.

That’s why he didn’t make a fuss when he was sent to law school after graduation, to a renowned academy, located about an hour's drive from where they’re living. One of their drivers and a security guard give him a ride there every morning, picking him up when his classes have ended. To this day, everyone at the academy thinks the reason why Jimin isn’t allowed to live on campus is because his father wants to keep his beloved son safe. The reality is that his father doesn’t trust him and that he wants him surveilled and kept under control at all times. Jimin’s father doesn’t trust anyone. 

And Jimin doesn’t trust anyone either, except for one person. 

“Namjoon, why are you here?” 

Back then, he had asked himself this question for quite a while, before approaching Namjoon about it. Why was Namjoon – by far the most humane person he knew, the one who does everything he can to have their creatures suffer as little as possible, whose eyes are filled with the same emotions that Jimin feels when new creatures arrive: pity and guilt – here? 

Namjoon looked at him carefully after Jimin asked the question, he understood what he meant right away. 

“For— family reasons.” 

“Family reasons?” 

Namjoon’s smile was sad and somehow defeated. 

“My dad fucked up and decided to pass away before settling his debt with your father.” 

He didn’t say anything else and Jimin didn’t ask any further, because even though they were alone at the time, talking like this was dangerous. But he understood: Namjoon wasn’t here out of his own free will, he was here because he had to. Because – just like Jimin – he tried to keep himself safe too. 

It was quiet for a while but then Namjoon looked at him with an unreadable expression and what he said next, he said very quietly: 

“Jimin, a good lawyer is like a gun. Now the only question is, who you’re going to shoot at.” 

It took Jimin a while to understand what he meant. 

And once he did, a fire ignited inside his chest, overshadowing the cold fear. 

After his graduation from the academy his father expects him to lie and manipulate for the sake of their organization, wants Jimin to help cover up his horrible criminal doings. 

But what if Jimin uses what he learns at the academy for exactly the opposite? What if he lies and manipulates to get his father sued, to finally stop him? 

Of course, he has to be extremely careful and can under no circumstances be caught doing it. 

Which was why he wanted to kick himself when he was foolish enough to suggest what he did, after they realized the suppressants weren’t working on Jungkook and they had to keep him locked up in his designated cell for a while longer. 

“Should we install cameras? For safety?” 

It was a dumb question, really. He knew cameras weren’t allowed down here.

There is only one entrance to the basement and everyone entering is scanned for recording devices. Phones, cameras, mics… Everything that could help carry information to the outside in one way or another. Like this, the only thing able to leak information are the humans going in and out, and those are easily dealt with by means of that purple poison. 

Jimin’s father whipped around at Jimin’s question and Jimin saw the hand coming, knew fully well he fucked up, so he didn’t even flinch away, just let the slap hit his cheek, his head flying to the side from the force.

“No cameras,” his father hissed. “You foolish boy.” 

Jimin averted his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispered, his cheek stinging. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked later that day, after Jimin’s father had disappeared into the house upstairs. He usually doesn’t spend even a second longer than necessary in the basement. 

Jimin just nodded, his cheek still tingling. He was used to getting hit, that one wasn’t a big deal. 

“Do you think Jungkook is able to withstand the suppressants solely because he’s a dragon or because he’s a Zelkath?” He paused, worrying his lower lip. “He is one, right?” 

Namjoon hummed. “I believe so. He has the markings of one.” He gestured along his arm, where Jimin knew Jungkook had all those strange markings and tattoos.  

Jimin read up about them. Dragons. Read about them a lot ever since Jungkook was captured.

Zelkaths are birthed when two tribe leaders have a baby to merge their families. It’s highly uncommon, since dragon tribes usually would rather die than merge, but when it happens the offspring of the leaders is a lot stronger than other dragons. They usually ended up as leaders themselves, powerful, ruthless. Feared by many and worshiped by even more.

“Why aren’t they searching for him?” He asked quietly. “His tribe. He must be their leader, no?” 

“He probably is. But I’m pretty sure they think he’s dead. Dragons of the same tribe have a bond with each other. A very strong connection. And the suppressants work at least in the way that they suppress a big part of his dragon. His connection to his tribe must be broken. They don’t know he’s still alive.” Namjoon frowned. “Thank God. If they would, they would’ve burned us all down a long time ago.” 

In a way it’s sad. For some reason, Jimin wished there would be a way to let Jungkook’s family know that he’s still alive. 

“How did they even manage to capture him?” He mumbled. 

He’s not involved in his father’s business aside from helping out in the basement but he knew his father’s team was good in not only detecting but also catching the supernatural. But a dragon—a Zelkath—so much stronger than anything they’d ever encountered—

“They found him here.”

“Here?” 

“In the human world. Apparently he was regularly seen in a small town not far West. That’s how they noticed him. The capturing was a whole operation in itself—” Namjoon trailed off, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed before grimacing. “I probably shouldn’t talk about it.” 

Yeah. Talking was dangerous. 

Jimin snaps the folder shut and pushes it back into the designated opening, locking it away inside a small password protected compartment, together with those bold red letters spelling DEADLY on the first page. 

Then he steels himself to get today's checkup on said deadly creature over with.

Slowly, he makes his way to the other side of the basement, where the cells are located. His steps echo around him, the fluorescent lights reflecting in the shiny white tiles of the corridor, almost blinding him. He tries to breathe as calmly as possible, centering his thoughts, getting ready as if he’s going into battle. 

Sometimes it really feels like he is. After all, there are several dangerous creatures imprisoned down here, many of them who could kill him in an instant if it wasn’t for the thick glass separating them. 

And it’s not only his fear of them. There is something else he has to battle.

His sympathy for them. 

Because it hurts him. What they do to them, how they treat them. And seeing them being sold off to be slaves or for entertainment purposes, for sexual purposes, breaks him every single time. 

Soon, it’s that time again. 

Their new mermaid, Kalliope, will be sold off in only a little over a week. Jimin doesn’t know the details but he knows the bidding on her is in its final stages, even though she has only been here for about a month.

It was easy to break her. For a mermaid she’s a bit small, a bit fragile and surprisingly soft-hearted. With suppressants they took her voice and with that basically the only weapon she had. Now that she couldn’t lure them in anymore to drown them in her tank, she was harmless. The suppressant also made her more timid, nothing is left of the fierce nature mermaids usually have. 

It’s so incredibly sad. Every time Jimin checks on her his heart breaks a little. 

Today, when he unlocks the door to the accessible area above her tank she’s already waiting for him with sparkling eyes, her upper body propped up on the floor grid, her fishtail swishing in the water behind her, the scales and fins shimmering in all kinds of purple hues. Her turquoise hair is falling over her shoulders and down her front, draping over her breasts. Jimin made her do that when he noticed some of the security guys leering at her while they were doing their rounds. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles and crouches down next to the pool. “How are you doing today?” He pulls something from his pocket. “Look what I got.” 

Kalliope’s curious eyes fixating on the big plastic comb in Jimin’s hand. He found it in the kid’s section of the store recently. It was pretty cheap but it’s pink and glittery and he knew she would like it. Her face lights up and she reaches out for it, frowning deeply when Jimin pulls his hand back.

“Sorry, you know I’m not allowed to give it to you,” he apologizes, a pout forming on her coral lips in response. “But I can comb your hair with it, if you’d like.” 

That makes her expression brighten up once more and she nods enthusiastically, the water of the tank lapping over the edge and wetting the fabric of Jimin’s pants where he’s kneeling on the ground as she turns around to give him access to her hair. 

He shuffles closer and starts combing it gently, the wet strands like silk between his fingers. Slowly and carefully, he untangles them and for a while it’s comfortably quiet around them, only the soft splashing of the water echoing through the empty space. 

As so often, Jimin wishes he could have an actual conversation with her. She’s the sweetest being and he’s sure they would be great friends under—well, different circumstances. Circumstances that don't involve his father having her hunted down and captured cruelly and then locked up in here, in a bare tank with nowhere to hide, just to sell her off to someone who will probably use her for all kinds of fucked up shit. 

A sour taste spreads in Jimin’s throat and he grits his teeth, trying not to let his emotions show.

To be fair, under different circumstances they probably wouldn’t have been friends either. Instead, if they had ever met outside, she probably would’ve lured Jimin into her waters and drowned him. Like mermaids tend to do.

Kalliope moves to turn her head, looking at him over her shoulder, and for a moment he thinks she was able to sense his emerging anger, but then she taps her lips. A familiar movement.

“You want me to sing?” 

She nods. 

“Okay,” Jimin smiles. 

She turns around again and he gets back to carefully dragging the comb through her hair, while he starts singing the song of all nymphs. A song he has sung for all the mermaids who were struck with the cruel fate of ending up here. His voice rings through the room softly, and after a while, Kalliope starts swaying in the water, from side to side, her head nodding forward as she slowly starts falling asleep.

“I’m gonna do my rounds and come back later with your dinner, okay?” Jimin whispers. “Get some rest.”

She nods again, then she turns around to look at him with a tired smile, tapping the spot right above her heart with two fingertips before submerging into the water. ‘Thank you’, it means. 

After checking up on the unicorn and then on the three tiny elves that came in only yesterday, draping a blanket over their cage when realizing how incredibly scared and stressed they were by the bright lights, Jimin makes his way further down the corridor, eyes fixated on the thick steel door at the very end. It reminds him of the door to a vault, protected by a double password and handprint scanner, behind it their most valuable and most dangerous creature. 

Jimin’s hands get clammy.

Mask your fear, he tells himself. He can smell it. Don’t show weakness.

This has been his mantra for the past four years, every single time before stepping into that room.

Mask your fear. Don’t show weakness.

When he reaches the door he closes his eyes, focuses on the rushed pulse in his throat.

Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4… breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… breathe in…

As per usual it takes a while but once his heart rate has finally calmed down to a natural pace, he types in the general password, then scans his handprint, before typing in the second password specific to only him. 

The machinery inside the door starts buzzing, there is a low beeping sound, and then it slowly opens.

When he steps inside, he feels Jungkook’s eyes on him right away, almost like a burning sensation that makes his skin crawl. 

Jungkook’s cell is bigger than those of the others. When his status moved from creature to be sold to subject to be studied, Jimin’s father allowed to have him kept in a more comfortable environment. If you can call a huge see-through box right in the middle of a room comfortable. Its composition is strong due to the layering of glass, polyvinyl, and carbonates, its framing helping in absorbing all types of possible impact, even by the strongest creatures. 

There is a weak spot though. 

It’s located at the very far right: A door, made of the same type of glass, to a short passageway, not bigger than 5 square feet, that reaches into the cell. There, they usually place Jungkook’s meals or other stuff.
The area is double protected, thick steel bars on Jungkook’s side making sure to keep him away, until the glass door is closed shut again. Then the steel bars can be lowered into the ground with the press of a button on the outside, so Jungkook can grab whatever they placed inside the passage for him. 

With his living space being surrounded entirely by glass, everything Jungkook does can be monitored. Granted, he’s not supervised 24/7 but if they wanted to, they could. There is absolutely no privacy in Jungkook’s cell, even the toilet in the corner of his room isn’t protected from curious eyes. And while that might be an advantage for them, as they can observe everything Jungkook does like this, it also means Jungkook can observe everything they do. Just like he does right now with Jimin. 

His eyes follow him through the room. 

They are uniquely beautiful, Jimin has to admit. Like many lizards, Jungkook, even in his human form, has vertical slits for pupils and the color surrounding them is the brightest and at the same time deepest emerald green Jimin has ever seen. Sometimes, he could swear they glow faintly. 

But their unique beauty at first sight is marred the moment you catch the maliciousness in them. Something dark and dangerous, that turns Jungkook’s expression into something close to how a wolf would look at its prey. Although, unlike wolves, who only kill for food or defense, Jungkook very obviously takes great pleasure in people’s fears. Especially Jimin’s. 

To Jimin, Jungkook is scary and beautiful. Scarily beautiful. It’s hard to look at him but almost harder to look away. 

He’s tall – so tall that he would probably have to duck beneath the doorways upstairs – and he’s muscular, makes a point of working out every single day in the cell they're holding him in. Jimin is sure, even if he wouldn't, he would still be big, like dragons tend to be. 

Today his hair is not tied up, instead it’s falling in soft waves over his shoulders, reaching all the way to his pecs, and it’s dark as midnight, the very same color as the strange markings – runes and lines and spirals – that Jimin knows run from his right pectoral over his arm and all the way down to his wrist. 

Jimin makes his way towards the desk in the far corner of the room, tapping a key on the computer to wake it from sleep mode, checking with only a few clicks if Namjoon has noted down anything interesting in their daily log. There's nothing new.

“You know the deal,” he then says, trying to make his voice sound hard, determined to mask his nervousness, grabbing the clipboard from the desk before turning to look at Jungkook. He ignores the chill running down his spine when their eyes meet and straightens up.

“Undress and step closer," he orders, tapping his pen against the clipboard.

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch, then he sighs theatrically. 

“You always say it in such an unsexy way.” 

His voice coming from behind the thick glass is slightly muffled and Jimin ignores his complaint but notes down the fact that Jungkook is just as annoying as ever.  

After he's done undressing, Jungkook is suspiciously quiet while Jimin makes him turn around himself slowly, scribbling away on his clipboard, taking note of every shift in muscle that's different from the day before. He's focused on his task, until-

“You got fucked yesterday.” 

Jimin almost chokes on his own spit, his pen slipping on the paper, his gaze snapping up. 

„Excuse me?“

Jungkook’s lips curl into a grin, revealing pearl white teeth and the sharp tips of fangs. 

“I can smell it on you.” 

“You’re lying,” Jimin retorts, although he knows it’s very much possible for Jungkook to smell stuff like that, even through the double layered glass of his cell. It’s just that Jimin made sure to shower thoroughly afterwards yesterday and then again this morning. For one, because he wanted to prevent exactly this from happening. And also, because he wanted to scrub it away. The lingering sensation of the guy’s touch on his skin.

The meeting was set up by his father, who’s been hoping to get funding from the business mogul for almost a year. When said business mogul showed interest in Jimin, his father of course didn’t hesitate and set up a ‘meeting’. It’s not the first time something like that has happened and it probably won’t be the last. His father doesn’t shy away from anything, not even from whoring out his own son to his business partners. 

“Oh, but I’m not," Jungkook grins. "I can even smell that it didn’t satisfy you.” 

Jimin’s face is positively burning now. 

Yeah, it was pretty bad. 

“Congratulations,” he huffs and turns around to finish filling out the form, his heart thundering uncomfortably in his chest at the embarrassment.

“Was his cock not big enough?” He hears Jungkook ask behind him. “Or was his stroke game weak?” 

Both, Jimin thinks but tries to ignore him.

“What satisfies you, Jimin? You can tell me. Do you prefer it gentle and slow? Or hard and fast?"

Jimin's grip on his pen tightens, his nape slowly turning hot as well. Jungkook can probably see it flush. 

"Do you like being slapped around? You seem the type."

His deep voice rolls over Jimin’s skin like liquid fire and Jimin takes a deep breath, scribbling away on his clipboard, trying to get this done as quickly as possible. 

Truth is, ‘being slapped around’ by those old fuckers isn’t doing it for him. By someone as attractive as Jungkook on the other hand… He shakes his head and tries to push the thought far away as quickly as possible before it can get to him.

It’s to no avail. Immediately images start forming in his head. Inappropriate images. Images of Jungkook and him. Images that make his lower belly flood with a needy type of heat. 

He’s a dragon. A prisoner. A test subject for fuck’s sake, he scolds himself. And he can most definitely smell you.

The thought alone that Jungkook might smell hints of arousal on him right now, makes him squirm uncomfortably on his feet.

Get it together.

When he’s finally done filling out the final section, he feels at least somewhat more collected. He takes a deep breath, puts the clipboard down and turns around. Jungkook is standing a lot closer behind the glass now, his arms crossed, his expression amused. He looks down on himself pointedly.

“Aww, look what you’ve done.”

Great. So he could smell it. 

“You did that to yourself,” Jimin mumbles and doesn't look. He knows what it looks like. He has seen Jungkook’s cock hard before, since this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. He knows it’s big and that Jungkook likes to shave his public hair when they let him. He knows that the skin looks soft and that the tip flushes easily and that Jungkook, even though he hasn't jerked off in front of Jimin before, likes to grab and lightly squeeze his balls when he gets particularly excited. Just like he does now.

"You’re staring.”

Shit. Jimin tears his gaze away so fast that it makes the other chuckle. His cheeks burn even hotter.

“Wanna suck it? I’d let you.” 

Jimin ignores the thrill shooting up his spine at the words.

“Fuck off.”

“Uh-oh, what if daddy could hear you right now? Using such a bad word.” 

Jimin huffs and steps up to the control board on the right hand side of the cell, Jungkook following him behind the glass. He studies the displayed numbers and frowns at the oxygen level.

"How much did you work out today?"

"Beat my personal pushup record." 

“You need to stop working out so much, you’re using up all your oxygen.” 

Jungkook tilts his head and lifts a brow, the smile that’s spreading on his lips bitter. There is a bitterness in his words too. 

"Not much else to do in here, Jimin."

Jimin bites his tongue and averts his eyes. Of course, Jungkook is right. They're holding him captive here in a pretty gruesome way, without much distraction or entertainment, his cell only equipped with a bed, a table, a chair and a small shelf filled with books, which he reads a lot faster than Jimin can get him new ones.

Other than a few interactions with Jimin and Namjoon, Jungkook doesn’t have much to do. Reading, working out and keeping to his own thoughts is all there is. 

With a couple of taps Jimin increases the oxygen.

"I’ll talk to Namjoon," he mumbles. "Maybe we can keep the general oxygen capacity on a higher level.”

Jungkook shrugs. "Do whatever you want.” 

Jimin sighs and turns around. “Get dressed. I’m gonna get your dinner.” 

“Aw, getting all wifey with me?" Jungkook calls after him. "That’s so sweet!" 

Jimin ignores him. 

Fear and sympathy. They are without a doubt his biggest weaknesses when it comes to the captured creatures. And both are on a whole other level when it comes to Jungkook. 

Fear because he's the most monstrous of them all and none of his seemingly harmless teasing and tasteless jokes could ever make Jimin forget that Jungkook could rip him apart within seconds if he wasn't locked up. He wants to. Jimin can see it in his eyes.

All that aside— Jungkook is also the most human-like. That's where the sympathy stems from. His appearance, his demeanor, maybe even his conscience – Jimin isn't entirely sure in that regard though – are so unsettlingly human. He talks like them, uses rhetoric like them, his intelligence is on the same, if not even on a higher level, he sleeps like them, has sexual needs like them, he eats and drinks like them… 

Today’s meal for Jungkook consists of rice, ground beef and vegetables, together with some strawberry yogurt and chocolate milk for dessert. Even though Jungkook would never admit it, Jimin knows he likes sweets and he always makes sure there is some type of dessert included in his dinner when he's responsible for it. Which is most of the time. Namjoon and Jimin both don't like entrusting any tasks that have to do with direct contact to the creatures to third parties.

This time Jungkook doesn't complain when he eyes the tray. Sometimes he has stuff to say about how the food is too boring, how he doesn't like this, or has trouble digesting that… all of which Jimin knows is a lie, he only tries to get to him. He loves annoying Jimin or making him uncomfortable and how can Jimin even be mad at him for that, after all they are the ones holding him captive here. What’s a little bit of psychological terror a few hours a week compared to a probably lifelong (unless they do manage to make Jungkook pliant and sell him off) imprisonment as a test subject.

This time too, Jungkook is not making it easy for Jimin.

He’s waiting for him, fully dressed again, right at the end of the narrow passage, his fingers curled around the steel bars on his end. 

“You’re too close, step back,” Jimin says, parking his food trolley in front of the glass door, stepping to the control panel, finger hovering over the button to open it. 

Jungkook chuckles as he releases the bars and takes a tiny step backwards, crossing his hands behind his back, tilting his head. 

Jimin huffs. “Still too close.” 

“Aw, come on, Jimin. I won’t do anything.”  

“Step back.” 

“What are you so scared of, look here,” he puts his hands on the bars again and tries to rattle them. They don’t budge. “You know I can’t get out.” He grins. 

Jimin grinds his teeth. Even though Jungkook can’t get out, the gaps between the bars are big enough for him to reach through. He could try to grab and hurt him if Jimin steps too far into the small passage.

It’s a mind game. Even though Jimin is very much capable of opening the glass door, rolling the food inside and closing the door again without getting too close to those bars, let alone the act of going out of his way to be overly careful would give Jungkook some kind of power and satisfaction. Jimin knows it’s that power that he longs for. Those small moments are all he has left. The moments when he’s able to instill fear in people even trapped inside a cage. 

“Step back, or you’re not eating tonight.” 

For a long moment they glare at each other, then Jungkook sighs theatrically. 

“Fine.” He takes a big step back. “Better?” 

“No, I want you all the way back there.” Jimin points at the other end of his cell. 

Jungkook raises a single eyebrow. “You’re so snappy today. What got you in such a mood? Was the fuck really that bad?” 

When Jimin doesn’t answer, he shrugs and walks backwards until he’s reached the other end of his cell. 

“Turn around,” Jimin says. “Hands on the wall.” 

“Oh, kinky,” the other laughs, before lifting up his hands and turning around slowly, putting his palms on the glass. 

Jimin doesn’t take his eyes off him while he presses several buttons, making sure the bars on Jungkook’s end of the passage are up and secure. He catches the other turning his head to look over his shoulder when the door on Jimin’s side opens with a low buzz. They lock eyes through the bars and Jimin halts in his movements, his grip around the handles of the food trolley tightening. It’s always weirdly unsettling to make direct eye contact with Jungkook, without any glass between them. Maybe it’s because of his lizard eyes. Maybe it’s because the steel bars don’t give the same sense of security the strong double layered armored glass does.

“Turn around.” 

Jungkook just chuckles at his words but turns his head to face the glass wall again. 

Jimin’s shoulders are tense when he pushes the trolley into the passageway. The glass on either side of him is so clear that it almost feels like he’s stepping into the cell itself, the illusion of being trapped, even though the door behind him is open, making him shudder. 

He eyes Jungkook’s back through the bars in front of him, pushing the trolley forward until it almost hits the steel. Then he kicks down the roll stop, before slowly stepping back out of the passage without taking his eyes off the other. 

The moment the buzzing sound of the door closing is ringing through the air, Jungkook looks over his shoulder again, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Am I allowed to get my food now?” 

Jimin pushes another button and the bars on Jungkook’s side slowly lower into the ground. He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. 

“You are.” 

Jungkook grins as he walks up to the trolley, eyeing his meal. Then his gaze snaps up to Jimin.

“I wonder— What would it take for you to feed me?” 

“Nothing in the world would make me do that. You'd kill me within seconds.”

Jungkook’s grin widens. "Within seconds? Oh no, Jiminie. I'd let you live a for a while." He licks over the sharp edge of one of his canines, his emerald eyes traveling up and down Jimin's body. "As long as you'd make it worth it."

Jimin just rolls his eyes and turns around, hoping that the other doesn’t catch the flush spreading in his cheeks. 

It always takes quite a while until Jimin is able to shake his shifts in the basement off. 

By the time he’s done downstairs it’s well past midnight and he’s exhausted, taking a long hot shower to wash off the tension that’s been gradually building in his neck and shoulders for hours, especially during his interaction with Jungkook.

Once he’s out of the shower, toweled dry and dressed, Jimin locks the door of his room twice and pulls the curtains of all the windows shut, before approaching the dresser in the corner of his room. 

There he takes one of the familiar vials, filled with the familiar sheer purple liquid, out of the secret compartment hidden in the far back of one of his drawers. 

It’s his second to last vial, he has to get some more soon. 

He measures the liquid carefully, pours a very specific amount of it into a glass of water, watches as the purple color swirls and dances around for only a few seconds before it completely disappears, leaving not a single trace behind. 

He’s upping the dosage today, has made sure his schedule is free tomorrow, just in case tonight gets bad. 

He takes a deep breath. Then he downs the water-poison mixture. 

It tastes like nothing. 

When the poison hits his blood, he feels dizzy, drags himself to the couch at the other end of the room on unsteady feet, lies there, staring into the bright light at the ceiling, the room spinning around him. 

Mithridatism. 

That’s what it’s called.

The process of taking a little bit of poison regularly, gradually increasing the dosage, until your body has reached an immunity to it. 

Jimin started two years ago, has been taking poison each and every day ever since. 

Another way of trying to protect himself from his father. 

He’s sure the time will come when his father will try to get rid of him the same way he always gets rid of people: By poison. And even though he knows the risks are immensely high, only getting his body used to said poison is what makes him feel somewhat at ease.

He curls up on his side and groans when a wave of nausea hits him. It takes a long moment until it subsides. His head is swimming and he feels incredibly sick but he would probably be sicker if he skipped a dose, his body having acclimated to the poison by now, craving it even. 

Even after two years he still experiences continuous side effects: His pupils are blown a little too wide, the skin that’s shimmering through his fingernails is bluish, as if his blood is not getting enough oxygen, and usually his sleep is strange, full of nightmares that chew him up and spit him back out. Just like tonight. 

When he wakes the next morning his skin is sticky and cold and his heart is beating in an irregular pattern. Now he can taste the poison, heavy on his tongue. While it tastes like nothing when drinking it first, it coats your mouth with a weird sticky sweetness the day after. A sticky sweetness that probably none of the people who got poisoned with it ever got to taste, since they never make it until the next day. 

The sticky sweetness of death.

The servants would clean Jimin’s room if he'd let them, but he’s too scared that they might find the stolen poison. So he usually manages to keep his room tidy and neat himself, albeit his busy schedule of attending lectures and studying during the day, and working downstairs in the basement at night.

“Anything interesting yesterday?” Namjoon asks when Jimin runs into him around noon. 

While Jimin has just gotten up and is currently getting served his breakfast in the dining room, Namjoon just made his way out of the basement probably for the first time since he's arrived this early morning, to collect his lunch from their head chef and his crew, who have all started their days even earlier than Namjoon. Aside from organizing daily meals not just for Jimin and his father, there are several servants, security guards and other staff to feed. Not to forget the creatures.

"Nope," Jimin says and pushes the scrambled eggs around on his plate. The poison makes it hard to eat sometimes. There is still a hint of heavy sweetness lingering in the back of his throat and he's a little nauseous.

"How was Kalliope doing yesterday?" Namjoon asks, flopping into the chair across from him.

Jimin frowns and sits up taller. "Why? Is something wrong?"

The other shakes his head. "Nothing to worry about. She just seemed a bit down this morning. Her vitals were good though." He takes a bite from his sandwich.

Jimin's shoulders sink. "She seemed very relaxed yesterday. I combed her hair." He smiles. "I think it made her happy." 

Namjoon looks up at him, his eyes softening, an expression flickering across his face that’s akin to pity.

"Jimin—"

"I know," Jimin sighs and leans back. "I'm getting attached again. I know." 

"It will make things so much harder on you," Namjoon says, lifting the bread of his sandwich up to pull a tomato slice out with a frown, discarding it on his plate before taking another bite. "You know she's scheduled to leave soon."

Leave. Jimin bites his tongue. Sounds a lot better than being sold off.

"Do you— Do you know who is most likely to buy her?" He mumbles not meeting the other's eyes. He's not sure why he asked, he doesn't even want to know.

"Yeah—" 

Namjoon’s voice is hard and laced with resentment. Jimin meets his eyes. The look in them is hard too and it makes his stomach drop. He looks around the huge dining room to make sure they are alone before leaning forward.

"Is it bad?" He whispers.

Namjoon’s frown deepens, his lips tightening.

"Yeah."

A sudden wave of nausea makes Jimin shudder and he sinks further into his chair, pushing his plate away from him, the smell of his scrambled eggs making his throat constrict. Suddenly, he just wants to cry. Kalliope doesn't deserve this. None of them ever do. But she— Kalliope is so small, so young, so precious—

Across from him Namjoon sighs, puts his sandwich down on the plate and rubs his face. He looks tired and exhausted. He usually does, the circles under his eyes always deep. 

Jimin knows, even though Namjoon is better at keeping his emotional distance from their creatures, it's not easy for him either. He's sure if Namjoon could, he would leave. On the other hand though— Jimin has never witnessed his father letting anyone leave. Too great is the risk of someone letting something slip once he lets them out of his sight. Wanting to quit here is not really a thing. At least not a thing you’d want. It’s a death sentence. Once you’re involved, you’re involved forever.

Only very few know about the existence of the creatures they sell. To normal people they are legends and myths. To the people his father surrounds himself with – all of them filthy rich and members of exclusive circles – they are investments and fun pastimes, something exotic to own, something to show your wealth off with.

Sometimes Jimin wonders why none of those rich people have ever reported his father to any authorities. Don’t they have any conscience?  

Probably not. On top of that, which authority is even responsible for mythical creatures? Who would even believe such reports? Plus, who would voluntarily take the risk of possibly getting on his father’s bad side?

Everyone who is involved with them and their organization is of course aware of the power Jimin’s father holds, of his ruthlessness and his cruel methods. Aside from being greedy, of wanting access to something only very few selected people have access to, those rich dudes are probably just as scared of or at least intimidated by him.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbles as he takes in Namjoon’s tired face. 

“For what?”

“For ruining the mood.”

Namjoon snorts. “The mood? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the only one here not ruining my mood.” 

At that Jimin chuckles. “Could say the same about you.” 

Namjoon smiles, then his expression morphs into something more serious. He keeps his voice low for what he says next.

“He wants me to test a new suppressant on Jungkook.” 

Jimin’s throat goes dry, something cold spreading in his fingers.

“A new one?”

“Someone super important wants to buy him for an insane amount of money.”

“He can’t possibly be bought. He’s too dangerous.” 

“That’s why they’re willing to fund the development and testing of new treatments. Apparently they are very determined. And you know how your father is when it comes to money—”

Jimin swallows drily. 

“It’s not gonna work.” His voice gives out. “Right?”

It’s not gonna work. It’s never gonna work. None of the suppressants have ever worked fully on Jungkook and that won’t change. Right? They might have been able to trap him in his human form but he will never submit. 

Right?

“He had a team of experts from overseas develop a first batch,” Namjoon mumbles. “On the basis of what my team had managed to create so far. I haven’t seen the finished product yet, it should arrive next week—” He pauses with a frown. “Their Head of Science sounded very— optimistic.” 

Jimin feels like he’s about to throw up, the glibbery eggs in front of him looking less and less appetizing.

Jungkook is a Zelkath. A tribe leader. He’s the strongest creature they’ve ever captured and they’ve only managed to suppress parts of his dragon, never all of it. There is no way they’d ever be able to tame him. No way they’d ever be able to sell him off. 

But Namjoon's words don't reassure Jimin at all.

The cold spreads all the way to his chest.

“So— You think it might work this time?” 

Namjoon worries his lower lip. 

“Honestly, I’m at a point where I’m almost certain that no human made substances would ever work on a dragon.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. “But who knows—”

Who knows?

Jimin stares at him, an uncomfortable pounding starting up in his head as his mind conjures up the image of Jungkook’s file, of that first page with the red letters on it, of those letters switching colors, of them being replaced, changing from DEADLY red to TAMED green. 

For a while it's silent, Namjoon just staring at his sandwich without eating.

“At least he would be out of our hair though, right?” He eventually asks.

Jimin huffs out a tired laugh. “He really does get under one's skin, doesn’t he—” 

Namjoon snorts. “That’s putting it mildly. And to make it worse, his intimidation tactics even work sometimes.”

“Yeah—” Jimin doesn’t mention that Jungkook tries to intimidate him in entirely different ways. And that it’s kind of working too. Namjoon doesn’t need to know about any of the inappropriate thoughts Jimin has about their most dangerous creature.  

Just when he opens his mouth to say something else, Jimin is interrupted by the door at the far end of the dining room opening. A servant peeks her head in, smiling in an apologetic manner. 

"Master Jimin,” she says politely. “Your father wants to see you."

Jimin’s stomach churns. He’s really not getting any breaks today, is he?

His father’s office is Jimin’s least favorite place in the house. It’s big and empty and cold, and it smells weirdly sterile, just setting foot in the room is enough for Jimin’s palms to get clammy, his fingers stiff and cold. Too many bad memories are lingering in the air here. 

“We’re having important guests over tomorrow night,” his father says the moment the door closes behind him, without even looking up from his computer. “They are interested in you.”

The muscles in Jimin’s shoulders strain, his jaw clenching. 

Am I expected to sleep with all of them or is there a fool you want a deal with particularly badly?, he thinks, flexing his cold fingers.

“Is there a preferred pick?” He tries to keep his voice steady and matter of factly while asking. Those things are business transactions, nothing more, nothing less. 

“There is.” His father reaches for the file that Jimin already noticed lying beside the keyboard the moment he entered. It looked out of place on the neatly organized desk. “This is all the information you need.”

Jimin takes it. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

For the first time since he entered the room, his father's eyes meet his. Jimin tries not to shrink back out of habit.

“Don’t mess this up.” 

Jimin bites the inside of his cheeks and nods eventually. This isn't anything new. A regular occurrence. But there is a question burning on his tongue.

“I—" He clears his throat. "Is he the one who’s going to buy Kalliope?” 

At that his father’s eyes narrow. 

“I mean—” Jimin takes a step back. “I heard— her time is coming up, right? She’s almost ready-” 

“Specimen 258 is indeed ready. But that’s none of your business.” 

Jimin ducks his head. “I know. It’s just—” He trails off.

His father leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, his eyes still narrow. 

“Your ridiculous display of sentiment towards them disgusts me, Jimin.” 

“That’s not-” 

“Don’t interrupt me.” 

Jimin clamps his mouth shut, pressing the files to his chest. 

“Since you’re so curious,” his father flicks a spec of dust from his desk, before meeting Jimin’s eyes again sharply. “He’s interested in buying specimen 177.” 

Jimin’s shoulders tense, his throat going tight. 

Jungkook.

Suddenly, the folder weighs heavy in his arms. 

So, that guy is the one who’s funding the development of those new suppressants Namjoon mentioned earlier?

His father’s eyes are burning into him uncomfortably and Jimin knows he’s gauging his reaction. He ignores the sudden cold feeling that’s spreading in his stomach, tries to act nonchalant when he speaks up. 

“Specimen 177,” the words taste foreign on his tongue. “Can’t be sold. He’s not tamed.” 

His father leans forward, puts his elbows on the table and even though he’s sitting while Jimin is standing, he looks intimidating like this and Jimin feels so very small. 

“The prospect is willing to fund a new suppressant treatment, including the developing and testing costs.” 

Jimin’s jaw clenches as he tries his best not to react.

“Is that so?” 

His father’s eyes narrow. “There is a lot at stake. I repeat: Don’t. Mess. It. Up.” 

Jimin wants to argue that he’s never messed anything up before, so why should he now? He’s always slept with those disgusting fuckers without any complaints. 

His father jerks his chin towards the files in Jimin’s arms. 

“That’s his son, who will inherit his business eventually. Your instructions are in the file."

Jimin frowns. “Instructions?” 

He’s never gotten instructions before. It’s usually just a list of things that are good to know about the person, followed by a vague ‘please them and don’t complain’.

“Instructions,” his father says with a finality that makes it clear that he has no patience left for Jimin. “Now get out.” 

Back in his room, Jimin stalls for time. He organizes his backpack for his lectures tomorrow morning, dusts off all the surfaces in his room, cleans the sink and mirror in his bathroom, takes another shower… 

It’s over two hours later that he finally opens the folder. He steals a quick glance at the photo of the guy, before he skims over the bullet points of information about him. Kim Doyoon, 32 years old, estimated wealth: $20 billion, hobbies and interests: playing polo, collecting antiques, collecting exotic animals… 

Jimin rolls his eyes and turns the page. 

Instructions, it says at the top and his eyes fly over the list. 

He frowns, goes over the list again, then again.

His chest tightens uncomfortably. 

It can’t be—

He can feel the thunder of his pulse inside his throat when he gets up and makes his way down the stairs, not slowing down until he reaches his father’s office, where he knocks. 

“What?” His father’s irritated voice sounds muffled by the thick wood and his eyes pin Jimin down when he steps inside, barely managing to wait until the door has fallen shut behind him before speaking up.

“Those instructions you gave me–,” he asks, trying to calm his breathing from running down the stairs. “What— What is that supposed to mean?”

There is an annoyed twitch in his father’s jaw. 

“What about the instructions is too hard for you to understand exactly?” 

“You want me to— I’m supposed to make him fall in love with me and— and marry him?!” 

“That’s what it says.” 

“But— But I-” 

“But, but,” his father mimics him with a scoff. “Oh, come on, Jimin. It’s about time that you make yourself useful and put some effort into this business. You can do more than just waste your time in the basement and warm our clients’ beds.” 

Jimin’s eyes go wide, hot anger flaring up inside him, spreading like wildfire, so quickly that it takes his breath away, leaving him slightly dizzy. His fingers start trembling.

“Warm their beds?!”

“Watch your tone.” 

Jimin bites his tongue.

“The sole purpose of their visit tomorrow is because his father wants to see for himself how well the first batch of funded suppressants have worked on 177.” His father continues with a wave of hand. “Of course they won’t work. Not yet. Not for a while. There is a lot more testing necessary. And we need something to keep them in a good mood. We need their funds, preferably also in the future. We need their loyalty. We need to bind them to us. And that’s where you come in.” His father shrugs. “His son has been declaring interest in you for a while now, so it shouldn’t be hard. Turn on your charm, keep him entertained, make him want to stay.”

Jimin stares, his throat going dry.

According to Namjoon the new suppressants weren’t supposed to arrive until next week.

“So— If they want to see tomorrow how their suppressants have worked, are you— Does that mean you’ll test the suppressant on Jungkook today?” 

His father frowns at the sudden change of topic. 

“Quit giving them names.”

“What– I’m not giving them names, these are their names!” 

“Names that shouldn’t interest you.”

“How come I wasn’t notified about the new suppressants beforehand?” 

“Because that shouldn’t interest you either.” 

“But— it’s my job, it’s-”

His father slams his palms flat on the desk and surges to his feet, his chair nearly toppling over from the force. Jimin backs away at the outburst, his shoulder hitting the doorframe. 

“Your job is to help with our clients, not our creatures,” his father spits, his face contorted with fury.

Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. Suddenly, there is a blurry haze in front of Jimin’s eyes, his heart racing. He blinks to keep the tears at bay. 

“The shipment arrived this morning. Earlier than expected,” his father says matter of factly and sits back down in his chair, rearranging a pencil that has rolled dangerously far to the edge with steady fingers. 

This is what frightens Jimin the most about him. One moment he loses control, and before you know it he’s all calm and collected again. He’s violent as well as calculating. He’s unpredictable.

“I set up a meeting with our client and his son for tomorrow right away, and sent Kim Namjoon a notice to start the testing process immediately. Which should’ve reached him by now. For all I know, they’ve already begun.” 

Jimin’s stomach sinks and he doesn’t wait for him to say anything else. Without another word he turns around, pulls the door open and hurries down the corridor for the stairs to the basement. 

The uncomfortable memories of how it used to be flash through Jimin’s head, making him rush faster towards the heavy door to the room where Jungkook's cell is located, his fingers trembling when he types in the code.

Memories from years ago, when they realized the suppressants weren’t working as effectively on Jungkook. Memories from when they kept doing tests on him. 

He remembers Jungkook on the floor in the middle of his cell, naked, covered in sweat, gasping and heaving, the pain of the freshly injected suppressants making him lash out and crash into the walls violently. 

He remembers the way the pain made Jungkook lose his mind, the blood that covered the walls and floor because he clawed at his own skin, because his knuckles split open from him throwing punches against every unforgiving surface.

He remembers how they had to sedate him more often than not, so that his body could ride it out without him hurting himself in the process. He remembers the many tranquilizer darts they had to shoot at him because sedatives didn’t work well on him either, remembers them hanging from his sickly pale body and how he ripped them out before they could fully unload.

He remembers Jungkook’s face contorted with pain, hair wet with sweat, and his screams of agony. Ground-shaking roars from deep within his chest that ended with a hiss, a sound so dragon that it shook Jimin to the core every single time. 

He also remembers all the times he broke down after those sessions, in that one corner of their lab, shaking and crying, whispering to Namjoon that he can’t do this anymore, that he had to get out of here. He remembers Namjoon’s hands cupping his face, telling him to calm down, to think clearly, to pull himself together because his father could under no circumstances see him like that, all the while having a sheen of tears in his eyes as well. 

All those memories play through Jimin's mind as he types in the code. 

With shaking fingers he presses the final button to unlock the door and when it swings open he's greeted with— silence.

Namjoon is sitting behind the computer right opposite to Jungkook’s cell, blinking up at him through his glasses with a surprised expression.

“Jimin.” 

There is movement from the oversized glass box.

“Why, Jiminie, what a surprise. It’s not even dinner time yet.” Jungkook grins, his hands in the pockets of his joggers as he steps closer to the glass. “Came to keep me company?” 

He looks normal, his skin having its usual bronze glow, his eyes sparkling lively. 

Jimin ignores him, although he’s sure the relief that washes through him right now is hard to miss. He turns to look at Namjoon. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

The other ducks his head, an apologetic look crossing his face.

“I thought about it but decided against it. Just in case it would’ve gotten— you know—” He rubs his neck. “Bad.” 

“Well, how bad is it?” 

“A little rush in the area where we injected it. That’s it.” 

“Injected,” Jungkook snorts from his cell. “Shooting at me like a fucking animal,” he kicks something across the cell, which Jimin recognizes as a dart that must’ve contained the suppressants. “Again,” he adds, his expression hard and both Jimin and Namjoon immediately know he’s referring to a couple of years ago when stuff like this was a regular occurrence. Namjoon averts his gaze awkwardly, just like Jimin.

“That was some weak ass shit, though. It’s almost insulting that you thought it would work on me.” 

Jimin makes the mistake to look at him and Jungkook cocks his head to the side, his emerald eyes narrowing when they meet Jimin’s, before trailing up and down the length of his body. 

Immediately, Jimin feels hot under his clothes.

“Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I do feel a bit under the weather.” The corners of his mouth quirk up. “Wanna come in and make it better, Jimin?” 

Jimin rolls his eyes and with a sigh turns to Namjoon, who throws him a pitying look after Jungkook’s attempt to get under his skin. Little does he know that there is no space under his skin left anymore. His father has taken up all of that earlier.

“So you don’t need me here?” He asks. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m all good. But maybe pay Kalliope a visit? She’s still in a bad mood, seeing you will surely cheer her up.” 

Kalliope’s eyes do light up when Jimin steps into her enclosure. She makes him sing a couple of songs again, swaying from side to side in the water happily, sometimes diving under, her hair shimmering prettily while she swims a couple of laps around the pool, which is way too small for a mermaid. 

All Jimin can think about, with a tight chest and a heavy heart, is that the enclosure in her new home will probably be even smaller. 

When he gets back to his room about an hour later, he only has a couple of hours left before his actual shift in the basement begins.

He throws the files on his bed a glare. 

Marriage. 

Something cold and hard coils in his stomach, the icy feeling of upcoming panic slithering down his spine. 

“I need to get out of here,” he whispers to himself. 

He knows it's empty words. There is no getting out. Not yet. 

Kim Doyoon is a good looking man, with dark hair, a strong jawline, a charismatic smile and an immaculate sense of fashion. 

All the points he scores with his good looks though, he loses immediately with his terrible character. 

Not only is he lacking patience and respect – he's been snarling at their servants for 'not getting him his drinks quickly enough' twice already – he's also arrogant, clearly a narcissist and has the same manipulative air around him that Jimin knows all too well from his father. 

The moment they have sat down at the dinner table he’s intruding Jimin’s space, his hand finding Jimin’s knee right away, where it stays firmly planted during their wait for the food, hidden by the white tablecloth. Jimin is overly aware of it the entire time, the warmth unpleasant, a slow strain building in his jaw and shoulders, his hold around his glass of water tightening. He should’ve gotten wine instead.

Unlike his son, Mr. Kim senior, while clearly being just as much of an asshole, does look the part. Not necessarily for the lack of him trying to be handsome but because of it. The artificiality of his face is almost shocking, Jimin wouldn’t be surprised if there was some kind of addiction to plastic surgery going on. 

The conversations are fake and shallow in the beginning, all parties taking a while to test the waters, and Jimin is on edge. Like a robot, he goes through the motions of eating, trying to look normal. He cuts the meat, brings the fork to his mouth, chews, swallows, and repeats. He takes a sip of water. Doyoon moves next to him, Mr. Kim tells a joke and everyone laughs. Jimin laughs along. Takes a sip of water. Cuts the meat.

When he’s addressed and asked about his law studies, Jimin’s throat goes tight. Everyone’s eyes are on him, his father’s boring into him particularly uncomfortably from the side.

Don’t fuck this up. 

When Jimin starts talking, there is a fake smile in his voice that makes a shudder run down his own back, but nobody else seems to notice. They listen and nod and make affirmative noises. Only when he’s done and his father changes the topic, Jimin notices how clammy his hands are. 

It takes a while for his father and Mr. Kim to dive into deeper talk about work and business. Once they do, Doyoon starts thrumming his fingers on Jimin’s knee, clearly bored. 

“So our suppressants haven’t worked on the dragon?” Mr. Kim asks, not sounding surprised and Jimin doesn’t miss the way his father relaxes at the revelation that Mr. Kim has not expected any progress today. 

“Unfortunately not. I’m sure our head scientist will be able to report back to your team soon with detailed results. Together we’ll manage to break it.” 

It. 

Jimin’s jaw clenches. He hates when his father does this. Talking about them as if they’re things.

Just an hour earlier, when he was doing his daily check-ups on them, serving them their dinner, he couldn’t stop watching the pixies getting all excited about the honey-covered hazelnuts and sunflower seeds. So excited that they started fluttering around in their cage in little circles, dancing and twirling, their tiny wings shimmering. It was beautiful.

“I was expecting it to take a while,” Mr. Kim nods. “My wife and I are looking into an estate in the area for rent. Just for the time being. It’s a bit tiring to fly overseas so often.” 

Jimin’s father hums in agreement. “Doyoon, are you looking for a place here too?” 

Doyoon’s fingers still. 

“Well,” he drawls, leaning back in his seat, his hand sliding up higher on Jimin’s thigh under the table. “No really. I don’t mind flying back and forth, so there isn’t really a reason to stay around.” His hand squeezes Jimin’s thigh. “Yet.” 

Jimin’s father smiles – Jimin has always thought expressions like that look unnatural on his face – and his eyes flicker to the spot where Doyoon’s arm disappears under the tablecloth.

“I understand,” he says before his eyes find Jimin’s and immediately a strain settles in Jimin’s shoulders. “Jimin, why don’t you show Doyoon around a little? Mr. Kim and I have boring business stuff to discuss anyway, surely there are more interesting things to do for the two of you.” 

At that, Doyoon leans forward excitedly. “I would love to see the dragon.” 

Jimin’s hands curl on the table as he’s searching his father’s eyes. Surely, he’s not gonna allow-

“177 just had its food, so it should be in a good mood. An exclusive basement tour for our friends shouldn’t be a problem, right Jimin?” 

Jimin frowns. “I guess— not?” 

“Take security with you,” his father shoots him a warning glance. Don’t fuck this up. “We’ll join you later.” 

Jimin hasn’t been aware how important this deal is to his father, and how much money is most likely on the line. Never before was any of their customers allowed downstairs. 

“Do you have any electronics on you?” He asks Doyoon as they approach the first security door to the basement, a member of their security trailing behind them as per his father’s demand. 

Jimin chose this particular guard for a reason.

Min Yoongi is probably the only security guy he doesn’t hate. He’s been with them for almost three years now and even though he’s a bit shorter than the rest of their security, a bit smaller in size too, he quickly worked his way up. He has an authoritative air around him, a no-bullshit demeanor that Jimin’s father likes and that the other members of security look up to. He’s also the only one who seems to at least somewhat respect their creatures. He doesn’t leer at them during patrols, doesn’t tease or taunt them. He just does his job, always thoroughly and punctual, seeming like he doesn’t give much of a fuck about any of this. 

So yeah. Jimin likes him. Even though they’ve never really talked much. 

Doyoon frowns. “My phone. Why?” 

“No recording devices allowed,” Jimin explains and points at one of the plastic containers on top of the small table right next to the entrance. “You can leave it over there.”  

“Ugh, really?” The other asks, pulling his phone from his pocket. “That’s kinda annoying.” 

Jimin shrugs. “Sorry. It would set off the alarms.” 

With a roll of eyes Doyoon makes clear how much this is inconveniencing him, but puts his phone down in the designated area anyway. 

“Please don’t step too close to their cells, don’t move too quickly, don’t talk too loudly. You might scare them,” Jimin explains while they ride the elevator down. Only now, sharing this small enclosed space with the Doyoon, does he realize how intrusive and overpowering the other’s cologne is. 

Doyoon snorts. “Am I allowed to exist?” 

I’d rather you wouldn’t, Jimin thinks, but just chuckles along. 

“They might get angry when they’re scared, so just be mindful of your surroundings.” 

“But they can’t attack me, can they?” 

“Well, no. We have security measures in place.” He pauses. “But we shouldn’t scare them anyway.” 

“We have him too if things get hairy,” Doyoon points his thumb at Min Yoongi standing behind them and laughs. Jimin is sure he hasn’t listened to a word he’s said. 

“I suppose,” he mumbles, taking a look over his shoulder and when their eyes meet, Min Yoongi throws him a tight-lipped smile, which – for the fraction of a second – seems just as annoyed as Jimin feels, before his expression slips back into a neutral mask. 

During their tour of the basement, Doyoon steps too close to the enclosures, knocks on the glass and startles the gnomes, pulls the fabric from the pixies’ cage that’s supposed to keep their enclosure dim, making them flutter around nervously, and stares openly at Kalliope, who shrinks back into her pool, turning her back to them, after sending Jimin a disapproving glare – he has to make sure to accordingly apologize to her later. 

“Holy shit, is that a unicorn?!” Doyoon bellows and Pearl, the unicorn in question and their latest addition – she’s only been with them for a little over a week – startles in her stable, kicking the metal wall with her hind legs, her rainbow mane flying when she rears up, her horn starting to glow faintly. The suppressants are already working on her, so the glow vanishes into nothing. Soon, all her power will be gone. 

“Shhh, it’s okay—” Even though it’s risky, Jimin steps closer and carefully puts his hand between the bars to give her soft nose a rub. She snuffles against his palm, looking for treats. Jimin chuckles. “I’ll give you some sugar cubes later, okay?” 

“How much would this one be?” 

Jimin almost rolls his eyes and doesn’t look at Doyoon when he answers.

“I don’t know. This one is not a pegasus, so-”

“Oh, so it doesn’t have any wings?”

“No.” 

“That’s boring.” There is a short pause. “Can I touch it too?” 

“No.” Jimin says, his voice hard but when he turns around and catches Doyoon's displeased expression, he backpedals, his father’s words loud and clear in his mind. Don’t fuck this up. “I mean— maybe next time. She’s a bit timid still, the suppressants haven’t fully taken effect yet.” After a short pause he adds. “She might bite.” 

That seems to work because there is something unsure flickering across Doyoon’s expression and he takes a step back. 

“Fine,” he says and crosses his arms. “I’m here to see the dragon anyway. Where is it?” 

Jimin gives Pearl’s nose a final gentle pat, then he motions for the corridor to their left. 

“Down there.” 

Something feels off when they step into the room. 

Min Yoongi seems to feel it too, because immediately, his hand flies to the gun he’s carrying at his hip. 

There is the usual faint whirring and buzzing of the machinery keeping Jungkook’s enclosure aired out and at a certain temperature, there is the faint glow of the computer in the corner that Jimin forgot to shut off earlier after he’s brought Jungkook dinner, the light in the room dim, mimicking the nighttime outside. 

Aside from that, there is— nothing. 

It’s strangely quiet.

Jungkook is never quiet when someone enters his room. And he must have heard them come. 

Jimin steps up to the control panel to increase the brightness and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust when the fluorescent lights flicker on. 

He can make out the shape of Jungkook lying curled up on the floor behind the glass even before his sight fully clears. 

His heart drops.

“Jungkook?” He asks carefully, taking a step forward. 

Nothing.

“Jungkook,” he tries again, stepping even closer to the cell, knocking on the thick glass.

Still nothing.

Jimin crouches down, something cold spreading in his fingertips, his heart tumbling nervously inside his chest when he catches sight of the dragon’s pale skin. So pale that in this lighting it looks almost translucent. 

“Hey!” He knocks on the glass again, louder this time. “Jungkook, can you hear me?” 

He’s breathing, isn’t he? 

Jimin swallows thickly, a faint sense of relief washing over him when he catches Jungkook’s chest moving. It’s moving only shallowly, though. Something’s clearly not right.

“What’s going on?” Min Yoongi asks behind him as Jimin jumps to his feet, hurrying towards the exit. He has to call Namjoon, immediately.

“I don’t know,” Jimin replies breathlessly, squeezing himself past Doyoon, who stands there with a disapproving frown.

“Is it sick or what?"

He's just about to tell the other to shut the fuck up and get lost – not in those exact words of course – when there is a faint groan behind him. He whips around. 

Jungkook is slowly heaving himself up to his feet, then he sways, his knees buckling before he stumbles to the side, his shoulder crashing into the glass.

“Jungkook,” Jimin hurries back into the room. “Are you in pain?” 

He puts his hand on the glass, right where Jungkook is leaning against it. 

Too close, his mind scolds but he doesn’t find it in him to care. 

“Hey–,” he begins, but then the other slowly lifts his head to look at him. 

Jimin almost flinches back.

Jungkook’s pupils, which are usually thin slits – typical for lizard eyes – are blown wide, swallowing up almost all of the emerald color surrounding them. They’re unseeing, looking through Jimin as if he wasn’t there.

“Jungkook, can you hear me?” 

Jungkook just keeps staring but Jimin doesn’t miss the fact that he’s clutching the fabric of his shirt in his side, as if something is hurting his ribs. 

“Shit,” Jimin curses and hurries to the control panel. He needs to get a better look. 

With a few flips of switches he makes sure the bars on Jungkook’s end of the passage between his cell and the room are secure, then he presses the button to unlock the glass door on their side. It swings open with a low buzz. 

“Come here,” he tells Jungkook, making sure to keep his distance, but the other doesn’t react, still leaning against the wall on the other end of the cell, clutching his side, his breathing seeming more erratic now. 

“Jungkook, come here,” Jimin repeats, almost pleading now, but the dragon doesn’t even look at him. 

“Sir, you should call Kim Namjoon,” Min Yoongi says from behind him. “With all due respect, please don’t do this stuff on your own.” 

Jimin throws him a glare, but ultimately he knows he’s right. He knows a bit about dragons but he’s for sure no expert and most definitely no expert on medical stuff.

He’s just about to turn around and make his way towards the exit again, when he catches a tremor going through Jungkook’s body. Then the dragon moves. Slowly, he lifts his head and then, as if he’s trying his best not to trip, he makes his way towards Jimin, keeping himself propped up with his shoulder sliding along the glass, his grip on his side visibly tightening. 

“Wait, did the suppressants work after all?” 

The voice right behind him makes Jimin jump and he turns around to look at Doyoon, who’s taking Jungkook’s state in with a curious expression.

“Doyoon, please step back, this isn’t-”

“Yeah, they actually did, didn’t they?” 

Doyoon doesn’t pay him any mind as he squeezes himself past Jimin and steps further into the passageway. 

“Get out of there immediately!” Jimin grabs the other’s arm. “It’s too dangerous.” 

Doyoon barks out a laugh. “Dangerous? Look at him,” he jerks his chin at Jungkook. “He’s totally out of it.” He yanks his arm from Jimin’s hold and steps further inside, tapping the bars with his knuckles.

“Come here, dragon.” There is an amused tilt in his voice. “Let me see you.”

Jungkook stumbles closer, his face lax, the look in his eyes still far away, his shoulder crashing into the bars right in front of Doyoon in a way that makes Jimin flinch from how painful it looks.

“Good boy,” Doyoon chuckles. “You will be my little lap dog in no time.” He throws a look over his shoulder, flashing a pearly white grin at Jimin. “Our little lap dog,” he says, his gaze gliding up and down the length of Jimin’s body. “If you want.” 

Before the shudder has even fully formed on Jimin’s back, before he can even try and keep his face from contorting into a grimace, before he can tell Doyoon again that he should get fucking out of there because he’s way too close, there is a sudden shift in the air. 

Jimin only gets a brief glance at Jungkook’s pupils tightening to slits, at his empty expression sharpening, at the sudden jerk that goes through his body as he straightens, before lashing out and tangling his clawed fingers in Doyoon’s collar.

A startled noise squeezes its way past Doyoon’s throat as he’s yanked against the bars, his forehead colliding with the iron with a painful thud. He slaps at Jungkook’s hand, pushes himself back, even manages to turn around in the attempt to run away, but he only gets half a step in before he’s grabbed and yanked back again, Jungkook’s arm sliding through the bars and around his throat, pulling him in, keeping him trapped. 

“That was easy,” Jungkook chuckles, his eyes gleaming with a sick satisfaction, maybe even a bit of surprise, as if he didn’t think it would go that well for him.

The adrenaline surging through Jimin’s veins makes him dizzy. He stands there, numb, frozen, the cold shackles of fear keeping him pinned to the spot.

“Let him go,” he rasps, his heart racing. He takes the tiniest step closer. “Jungkook, let him go!” 

“Aw, but I don’t want to,” Jungkook fake-pouts and turns his head to look at Doyoon, who stares straight ahead, eyes wide, gasping in fear, his entire body shaking. “I wanna spend some time with my dear owner,” he purrs and increases the pressure on Doyoon’s throat, whose face is slowly turning red from the lack of air. 

“Kill it!” He gurgles, clawing at Jungkook’s lower arm. “Kill— it!” 

“Don’t shoot!” Jimin shouts when Min Yoongi comes up beside him, gun pointed. 

Doyoon wiggles in Jungkook’s hold. “K-Kill it!” He coughs and then starts screaming when Jungkook’s other hand comes up and the tip of a clawed finger runs over his jaw, blood collecting where the skin splits.

“Kill it!” Spit flies from his mouth as he trashes and squirms. “Fucking kill it! Or my father will kill you!” 

“And my father will kill all of us if we hurt his most prized possession!” Jimin hisses. “Calm down! Stop squirming!” 

But Doyoon doesn’t stop. He screams and thrashes around, his face sweaty, teary and red.

Jungkook grins, his shoulders shaking with loud amused chuckles, his fangs flashing. 

“Jungkook, please, let him go!” 

“How about a deal, Jiminie?” The dragon asks and cocks his head to the side. “I’ll let your friend go, if you press that red button over there.” He nods at the control panel. 

Jimin doesn’t have to look to see what kind of button he means. There is only one red button, hidden behind a password protected lid made of security glass. The button that turns off all security measurements. The button that would open Jungkook’s cell. 

Jimin swallows thickly. “You know I can’t do that.” 

“Thought so.” Jungkook sighs. “Well, at least I’ll have some fun with this one.” He looks at Doyoon again and leans in to whisper: “Looking forward to it. I haven’t killed in ages.” 

This time his claws sink into Doyoon’s jaw, right underneath his chin, so deeply that it makes Jimin actually panic. He hears Min Yoongi shout something that he doesn’t understand as he hurries into the passageway without a second thought, almost tripping over his own feet. 

“Let him go!” 

He grabs Jungkook’s wrist, trying to yank his hand off Doyoon and only realizes his mistake when he’s met with no resistance whatsoever, when Jungkook lets go of Doyoon immediately. Only a second later, there is a bruising grip on his upper arm, claws digging into his flesh through his shirt, as he’s pulled in, his shoulder crashing into the bars. 

Shit. 

“Well,” Jungkook grins, his face so close that Jimin can feel his breath on his skin, closer than he’s ever been. “Hello there.” 

The sound of a gun’s safety catch being taken off makes him look over his shoulder. 

“Don’t shoot,” he breathes, his heart racing in panic, his eyes finding Min Yoongi’s, which are probably just as wide with shock as Jimin’s.

“But sir-” 

“Don’t. Shoot.” Jimin’s jaw clenches when Jungkook digs his claws deeper into his upper arm, the sharp pain making him flinch. “Get him upstairs,” he nods towards Doyoon who is a jittering mess on the floor, pressing his palm to his bleeding face. “He needs medical attention.” 

“But-” 

“Get him upstairs! I have it under control.” 

Min Yoongi lowers the gun. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says, as he whirls around, grabbing Doyoon by his arms to pull him up and drag him towards the exit. “Come on, man, walk!” 

When the heavy door has fallen shut behind them a deafening silence settles in the room. Only now Jimin grows aware of how hard he’s breathing. 

Slowly he turns to look at Jungkook, his throat dry.

“You played us,” he whispers. He should’ve known. 

Jungkook looks pleased with himself, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. This close, Jimin can see the tiny little specks of gold around his pupils that he’s only known from photographs. Never before has he been this close to actually see them in person. They’re gorgeous. 

“Indeed I did. And you were so concerned for me too," Jungkook coos. "That part was actually really cute."

“Let me go,” Jimin demands and tries to yank his arm back, only to hiss in pain when Jungkook’s hold tightens.

“But where would be the fun in that?” 

“You’re hurting me.” 

“Aww, am I?” The dragon snorts. “So sorry about that. Consider it payback. For all the times you hurt me.” He leans in. “With your little experiments and that stupid medicine.” 

The accusations make Jimin’s face burn hot. Because they're true. 

“You think you know what pain is, Jimin?” His grip on Jimin’s arm is so tight now, that the limb slowly grows numb. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers. 

“I bet you fucking are,” Jungkook laughs. 

“Let me go.” 

“No.” Jungkook leans in, towering over him, tall and big and intimidating. And Jimin is scared. The fear is settling inside his throat, making it hard to breathe, his heart is racing and he wants nothing more than to shrink back, to whimper and beg. 

Don’t show your fear, something deep inside his mind tells him. Mask it. Don’t let him know. He’ll use it against you. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Jimin straightens his spine, swallows the suffocating feeling down. 

He needs to get out of this. Without being killed and without Jungkook being killed. 

He inhales deeply. 

There must be a way. He just needs to think clearly.

He can do this.

“Okay, and what now?” He asks, ignoring the sensation of warm blood running down his arm from where Jungkook’s claws dig into him, ignoring the feeling of his shirt getting wet in the area. “What’s gonna happen now?” 

There is a twitch in Jungkook’s jaw, his eyes narrowing.

“Security will be back any minute now,” Jimin continues. “And then what?” 

“Then I’ll tell them to let me out, or I’ll kill daddy’s little sunshine.” 

The laugh that flies out of Jimin’s mouth is dry. 

“You’re greatly overestimating my worth here, Jungkook.” 

“Do I?” 

“Yes.” 

“Should I kill you right now then?” 

Jimin desperately tries to calm the beating of his racing heart. Jungkook can probably hear it. 

“You know what I think? If you really wanted to kill me you already would have.” 

Jungkook’s intense eyes wander over Jimin’s face, the corner of his mouth twitching when he huffs.

“Oh, but I like seeing you suffer like this.” He looks Jimin up and down. “Look at your knees shaking from the pain.” He tightens his grip and Jimin’s knees buckle at the sharp sensation, sending him forward into the bars and even closer to Jungkook’s face. 

“It’s quite adorable,” Jungkook breathes against his lips as their eyes find each other again. 

“Adorable?” Jimin laughs and hates how he can’t hide the pained strain in his voice. 

“Indeed.” 

The word is spoken with a roughness that makes Jimin’s pulse quicken again. 

Jungkook’s face is way too close. 

Oh God. 

Suddenly, being stared at by those emerald eyes feels like being burned down and Jimin’s mind is swimming, his skin starting to prickle. 

Suddenly, he’s overly aware of the fact that Jungkook is touching him. 

They’ve never touched before. They’ve never been this close. 

Jungkook’s skin is hot, feels almost feverish. Jimin knew he has a higher body temperature than humans but to feel it like this, not just seeing it in numbers and charts, makes it so much more real. 

It makes Jungkook so much more real. 

Suddenly, there is a need building inside Jimin. 

The need to run his fingers through Jungkook’s silky hair and over the smooth skin of his defined jaw, the need to trace the inked patterns on his arm, the need to feel the bulge of those muscles under his palms. 

Suddenly, he’s aware of the fact that he can smell Jungkook.

There is the faint scent of that cheap body wash that they always buy for him but it’s overshadowed by something else. By some kind of woodsy scent, something that reminds Jimin of a hot day in a forest, of a bonfire on a warm summer night.

It’s the short moment when Jungkook’s gaze flickers to his lips that Jimin knows what to do to get out of this. 

That’s the only reason why he does it. To get out of this situation. Obviously. 

It has nothing to do with that need that grows stronger with each second. It has nothing to do with that burning kind of longing that he, if he’s being honest, has been feeling for quite a while now. It has nothing to do with the fact that he secretly has been wanting to try this for months, if not years, to satisfy this deeply rooted science curiosity inside him. But also that other type of curiosity that’s kind of— forbidden. That type of curiosity that’s entirely not scientific in nature, but shockingly primal.

None of all that has anything to do with him getting on his tiptoes, or with him leaning in between the bars, or with his heart surging into his throat when Jungkook’s eyes darken, or with the goosebumps spreading all over his body when he feels Jungkook’s hot breath on his lips. Unnaturally hot. As if he’s breathing fire. 

Jimin swallows thickly. He’s just doing this to walk out of here alive. 

His heart is thundering in his throat and it skips several beats when their noses bump.

There’s no turning back now.

When their lips meet it’s surprisingly soft, and Jimin feels almost high when Jungkook starts moving first, almost immediately, as if he’s been waiting for this too. 

Their tongues slide together and within half a heartbeat their kiss turns deep and rough and messy, as if they’re fighting, Jungkook’s fangs grazing his lips, scraping over his tongue, and Jimin’s toes curl in his shoes, the kiss taking his breath away so quickly that it leaves him dizzy, as if in trance. 

Jungkook tastes like he smells. Of summer, of being surrounded by trees, and a bit of burnt wood. His tongue is unnaturally hot too and something pulls in Jimin’s lower stomach, tightens, making it hard to breathe. 

He wants to bury his fingers in Jungkook’s hair, wants to pull him closer, wants to kiss him deeper, he wants more of this— but the moment he feels the other’s grip on his arm loosen he slams back into reality. 

Jungkook’s state of distraction is exactly the chance he needs. 

With a jolt, he yanks his arm out the other’s hold, hisses when his skin is ripped open by claws in the process, and stumbles back, tripping over his feet, losing his balance and crashing with his back into the frame of the door as he lands on his butt ungracefully. 

His heart is pounding in his ears when he stares up at the other, his breathing going hard. 

Jungkook blinks, seeming legitimately confused for a moment. His lips are red and slightly wet and Jimin’s face is on fire at the sight. 

A moment later, the other’s eyes wander down to his empty hand, his fingers dripping with Jimin’s blood. Then his eyes snap toward Jimin, who almost shrinks back at the fury inside them. 

“Well played,” Jungkook growls before he steps closer, his blood-covered fingers encircling the bars. He cocks his head to the side. “Are you scared, Jimin? You smell scared. Has your daddy not told you to hide your fear from monsters?” His emerald eyes are gleaming as he runs his tongue over his swollen bottom lip. “They give chase if you run.” 

“You can’t chase me,” Jimin whispers, taking hold of his upper arm, putting pressure on the bleeding wound. “You’re locked up.” 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his jaw visibly clenching. 

“For now. But mark my words—” A slow grin spreads on his lips. “One day, I will get out of here.” 

Jimin startles when shouts and footsteps from outside the heavy security door reach his ears, chills running down his spine when Jungkook’s grin merges into an expression that can only be described as sinister. 

“I will get out of here and I will hunt you down.” 

The door swings open.

“Mr. Park!” 

Min Yoongi runs up to him, gun pointed at Jungkook, followed by three more security guards. His eyes flicker between Jungkook and Jimin and when he’s made sure that the situation is under control, he takes in the state of Jimin’s arm.

“Come,” he says and helps Jimin up, who gets to his feet on wobbly legs. “Let’s get you patched up. That looks like it hurts.” 

“I think he actually likes it when it hurts,” Jungkook scoffs behind them and Jimin wills the flush in his cheeks down to the best of his ability. 

"That must've been scary,” Min Yoongi says as he leads him down the corridor towards the elevator. 

"Yeah—," Jimin breathes. His hard half hard cock throbbing inside his pants. "Scary."

Chapter Text

By the time Jimin finally makes his way back to his room, after getting patched up by their medical personnel on the other side of the house, it’s late at night. The dining room, which he passes on his way upstairs, is bathed in darkness. Mr. Kim and Doyoon are gone – he assumes they left right after what happened, to get Doyoon to a hospital or something – and his father is nowhere to be found. 

The fact that he hasn’t seen him at all after the incident worries Jimin. Even though confrontation with his father is the last thing he wants, he ultimately knows that him not being punished now just means his father can dwell in his anger, which will then hit Jimin a lot harder eventually.

In his room, Jimin debates whether to take his dose of poison today. It’s already so late and he has classes early tomorrow. If he’s unlucky, it won’t be fully out of his system by then and he’ll be all droopy and tired. 

In the end, he doesn’t dare to skip the dose. Not only because he wants to keep building his body’s resistance against the deadly substance and fears skipping a day might set him back, but also because he’s craving the numbness and dizziness. He probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyway without it in his system. 

After taking a hot shower – careful not to get his upper arm wet, which is covered in a salve that stinks obtrusively medical and wrapped in a layer of bandages – he gets the poison out of the hidden compartment and measures his dosage. 

He really needs to get another batch soon, he’s almost out.

After he’s swallowed tonight’s water-poison mixture down, he drags himself to his bed with a groan, where he collapses in the sheets, waiting for the numbness to set in. The treated wound on his upper arm is pulsing, feeling hot and sore, almost as if Jungkook’s claws are still buried in his flesh. The memory has adrenaline surge through his veins, his lips starting to tingle, the phantom touch of Jungkook’s kiss still lingering there too. 

He sighs and presses his face into the pillow.

That really shouldn’t have happened. None of it. He’ll be in so much trouble for Doyoon getting injured. And the kiss— Jungkook will never let him live that down. How fucking unprofessional.

Jimin absolutely has to make sure that Namjoon won’t ever find out about that part because Jimin would never be able to look him in the eyes again if he did. He might’ve done it as a form of self-defense but he would be lying if he said it didn’t— excite him. 

Did he abuse his power? 

Jimin groans into his pillow, his hot breath spreading in the fabric, warming up his heated face even more. 

Making out with one of their creatures, he must’ve lost his mind. 

With Jungkook. 

Memories of Jungkook’s lips on his own flood his mind, of the sensual movement, the taste, the intense heat of Jungkook’s tongue, the scrape of his fangs—  

Jimin swallows thickly, his fingers starting to tingle. The poison must be taking effect. 

Has his heart been racing like this the entire time? And when has he started breathing this hard? 

He gives the shoulder of his injured arm a wiggle and the slight pain, a reminder of what happened, makes him suck his lower lip between his teeth, hot tension curling in his belly, pulling and pulsing. Before he even notices what he’s doing, his thighs are tensing, rubbing together, his half hard cock twitching. 

Shit, he shouldn’t be doing this. 

His other hand slides down between him and the mattress, cupping himself over his boxers, and his cock throbs once more, growing harder, straining against his palm. 

He’s dizzy and hot. 

This is so wrong.

When he starts rubbing his palm over his crotch he’s not necessarily gentle, his lips falling open at the pressure, his heart racing, his mind swimming, memories of Jungkook holding him in place, of Jungkook kissing him flooding his mind, mixing and merging with images of stuff that didn’t happen, his imagination suddenly running wild. He imagines Jungkook touching him, running his sharp claws over his naked skin, holding him down by his throat. He imagines Jungkook’s lizard eyes looking down at him from above, of Jungkook moving—

His free hand curls in the pillow when he starts rolling his hips into his palm, the fire inside him burning hotter and hotter.  

Stop it, he scolds himself.  

But he doesn’t stop. 

His hips rut forward, his mind hazy, he can’t really focus anymore, the spikes of pleasure making his abs clench, his legs sliding around under the covers as he’s searching for purchase to roll his hips harder. He moans into the pillow, his breathing quickening, the fabric that’s straining under his palm turning wet from precum seeping through, and he whines softly, pressing his hand down harder.

The tension pulling inside his head and inside his stomach is hot and heavy, his brain slowly shutting down, the edge drawing closer and closer. He wraps his fingers around the girth of his cock, gives it a squeeze, his toes curling. He gasps and then his orgasm slams into him so suddenly that he almost chokes on air. The pleasure explodes fast, intense, spilling out of him, soiling his boxers, making him tremble and quiver, white spots dancing in front of his eyes.

When it’s over, he slumps into the mattress, all limp and numb and droopy, a thick fog clouding his mind. His spine is still tingling as his orgasm slowly ebbs away, his body twitching here and there. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, the words slurring around in his mouth, his tongue heavy. The poison is most definitely hitting now. 

His eyelids grow heavy too and the last thing he notices before he’s pulled into a restless sleep is the stickiness of his drying cum on his skin and the stickiness of the poison on his tongue. 

As expected, the next morning is hell. 

Jimin is totally out of it, almost unable to keep his eyes open during his lectures, feeling not only the aftermath of the poison but also the ugly feeling of shame eating away at him. As well as the icy fear of what’s most likely going to happen once his classes are over.

When he comes home in the early afternoon, he’s told by one of their servants to go to his father’s office right away. Apparently, he’s expected there.

Of course, Jimin already knows what’s coming.

“He wanted to see him,” he hisses about fifteen minutes later, droplets of blood flying from his lips. “You said I should show him around downstairs.” 

It only takes half a second before the back of his father’s hand hits him again, pain exploding in his cheekbone where knuckles crash into it. He sways in his spot on the ground, the marble floors painfully hard against his kneecaps. 

“You were careless,” his father spits, grabbing him by his face, his fingers digging into the forming bruises painfully. “What if that monster would’ve killed him?” He tightens his grip, the pain sending black spots across Jimin’s vision. “Do you have any idea how much money is on the line for me?!”

“I don’t. You never tell me.” 

The hold around his face disappears before yet another slap rings across the room, and then another one, Jimin’s head flying from side to side, a loud rush in his ears. 

“Don’t get smart with me, boy.” 

His mind is swimming, a dull ache throbbing behind his forehead, his stomach twisting and churning from pain, from fear and from the lack of sleep. He cries out when his father grabs him by his upper arm, squeezing right around the wound.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, trying to pull away.  

The hand disappears but only a second later he winces at the harsh grip in his hair, yanking his head back. 

“What was that?” His father stares down at him, his eyes narrow, mouth pressed into a thin harsh line, deep wrinkles in his forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin repeats, louder this time. 

"You will apologize next time you meet Kim Doyoon. I already set up a date for next Saturday. You will make it up to him. Sufficiently." He yanks on Jimin’s hair again. “Do you understand?!” 

“Yes.” 

His father huffs and, after one last yank at his hair, lets go of him, the deep lines in his forehead slowly disappearing. 

“Good,” he says, straightening, dusting off his pants before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping Jimin’s blood from his knuckles. He makes a disapproving sound when he notices the splatters on the marble. “Call someone to clean up this mess.” 

Namjoon doesn’t seem surprised when Jimin steps into his office, located in the basement right next to the elevator, shortly before their change of shifts, pity flickering across his face when he takes in the state of him.

Jimin on the other hand is a little surprised to find Namjoon not alone. Min Yoongi is standing opposite to the other’s desk, leaning forward with his hands on the tabletop. His eyes widen when they land on the fresh bruises blooming on Jimin’s jaw and cheekbone.

“I was just told what happened yesterday,” Namjoon explains, pointing at the security guard with his thumb while turning in his chair to face Jimin. His expression softens and with a sigh he gets up. “Come, sit down. I’ll have a look at it.”  

“You snitched?” Jimin mumbles with a look at Min Yoongi, closing the door behind him before taking a seat in Namjoon’s chair. 

Yoongi straightens. “I thought he should know, Mr. Park,” he says with a deep frown. “I’m sorry.” There is a short pause. “And—” His eyes travel over Jimin’s face. “I’m sorry that happened.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s alright,” he says. “And please, call me Jimin.” 

It’s no secret here that Jimin’s father is violent. Almost everyone working here has either been a target of his wrath or has at least witnessed him losing control.

It’s also no secret that he likes to take his anger out on Jimin. Everyone knows he’s hitting him. 

Usually though, he doesn’t make it this obvious. Usually, the bruises are in areas where Jimin can hide them easily. Everyone knows his father is violent but usually nobody ever sees it. Except for Namjoon, who’s been treating his wounds for years now. 

“From the looks of it he was pretty angry about it all?” Namjoon asks and opens the cupboard where Jimin knows he keeps his medical kit.

“He actually took it better than expected,” he mumbles and leans back in the chair. “I didn’t pass out this time.” 

The other two don’t say anything but he catches the slight clench of Namjoon’s jaw. 

“And how is your arm, sir?” Yoongi asks. “I mean– Jimin.” 

Jimin looks down on himself, wiggling his shoulder. “I think it’s fine but–” He throws Namjoon a sheepish smile. “Could you maybe change the bandage too while you’re at it?” 

“Of course.” 

When Namjoon and Yoongi are gone and Jimin is done with his rounds about two and a half hours later, having checked on all the creatures and given them their dinner, he stands in front of the door to Jungkook’s room and doesn’t seem to be able to move. 

Breathe in, 1, 2, 3… breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 

The area on his skin where Namjoon has put the ointment to help speed up the healing process is still tingling a little bit, the spot where his lower lip has split earlier feeling tight and sore. 

When he reaches the door he closes his eyes, focuses on the rushed pulse in his throat.

Kalliope didn’t stop fussing all over him when she saw the state of his face, with a concerned look in her eyes and a pout on her lips. Only when he assured her several times that he was fine and sang two songs for her did she calm down enough to eat and let him leave. 

He almost wished she didn’t. 

Because there is only one creature left to feed now and Jimin really isn’t in the mood to face him.

Mask your fear. Don’t show weakness. He can smell it. 

This time, the mantra in his head doesn’t work. He’s on edge, overly nervous and already feeling uncomfortably hot with embarrassment. His mind is reeling, trying to come up with something else to do before attending to Jungkook, trying to stall for time.

He could update all the files he didn’t get to update yesterday. Although– Namjoon might’ve done that already. 

He could read up on that weirdly colored poop he cleaned from the pixies’ enclosure earlier, although he’s sure it’s a stress related thing with how badly Doyoon startled them yesterday.

He could get a couple of vials with poison and smuggle them to his room, since he’s almost out. 

That has him perk up in his spot in front of the door.

Getting the poison has always been surprisingly easy. Given how dangerous it is you’d think it’s under high protection, but in reality, everyone who has access to their lab has access to the poison as well. 

Granted, the only people having access to the lab are Namjoon, Jimin, Jimin’s father and a very select number of people from their security staff, but there is no system in place to keep track of their stocks. Nobody would ever notice that some of the many vials are missing. The fact speaks of his father’s absolute arrogance or maybe of his stupidity. 

Whatever it is, Jimin uses the fact to his advantage when he walks up to the safe at the very back of their lab causally, opening it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, before slipping a couple of vials into the pockets of his lab coat, two on each side. Then, with his hands in his pockets, he takes the elevator upstairs and makes his way to his room, passing a couple of servants and a security guard who pay him no mind, except for the covert glances they throw him when they notice the bruises on his face.  

Jimin has perfected the nonchalant demeanor with which he moves through the house, no matter the situation. Right now, nobody would ever know that his pulse is actually thundering so wildly in his throat that it makes him want to throw up. Only when his door has fallen shut behind him and he has locked it with trembling fingers does the tension in his shoulders fade, his heart rate slowing down to normal. He takes a deep breath, then moves quickly to hide the stolen vials in the secret compartment of his dresser. That will last him at least two months. 

When he’s done, he sinks down on his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

How the hell is he supposed to face Jungkook after what happened yesterday? He'll die of embarrassment.

With a groan he rubs his face, exhausted, tired.

“I need a fucking drink."

“What happened to your face?” Jungkook asks, the moment Jimin steps into the room. 

Jimin blinks. 

His face?

Oh yeah. The bruises. 

“None of your business,” he mumbles, his tongue heavy in his mouth, still coated by the bitterness of alcohol as he makes his way to the control panel, his feet dragging on the floor. Jungkook follows him on the other side of the glass with a curious look. 

“Got into a fight?” He asks with a snort. “You?” 

“I said it’s none of your business,” Jimin slurs. 

He probably shouldn’t have drunk that much, especially on an empty stomach. He can tell his movements are sluggish and he has to focus really hard on pressing the right buttons and keeping the pen straight in his hand to note down today’s stats. Is his writing even legible?

“How’s your arm?” Jungkook asks with a teasing tone. 

“None of your business either.” 

The other’s gaze is burning into him and Jimin can’t keep himself from squirming.

Don’t bring it up, don’t bring it up, don’t bring it up—

“You got off to it, didn’t you?” 

Heat surges into Jimin’s face. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, the written notes in front of his eyes blurring. 

There is a pause and when he looks up at Jungkook, the other is taking him in with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, his nostrils flaring. Jimin jumps, when he barks out a laugh. 

“Are you kidding—You’re drunk, aren’t you?” 

“Just a little bit,” Jimin murmurs and tries to focus on the notepad again, scribbling down the level of oxygen in Jungkook’s enclosure. Today it seems normal. 

“Needed the liquid courage to face me?” 

Jimin bites his tongue. Count on Jungkook to hit the nail on the head.

He refuses to answer, just lifts his chin and straightens his shoulders as he makes his way to the desk in an attempt to bring some distance between himself and the other. He flops down on the chair ungracefully and starts typing out some of the things he just noted down to transfer them to their database.

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a while, the only noise being the clattering of the keyboard and the soft hum of the machinery in the room and Jimin braces himself for the breaking of the silence that will surely come. 

“No need to be embarrassed, Jiminie.” 

Bingo.

“If it makes you feel better, I got off to it too.” 

Jimin can’t stop the audible gasp from flying from his mouth.

“Nobody asked,” he manages to choke out.

Jungkook chuckles. “Do you wanna know what I imagined while getting off?” 

Jimin’s fingers slip on the keyboard. 

“I literally said nobody asked.” He throws the other a glare and is met with nothing but a smug expression. 

“Ah, but you’re curious, aren’t you?” 

“No,” Jimin flat-out lies, turning back to the computer while his drunk brain is screaming yes over and over again. 

“But don’t you also wonder what would’ve happened if you would’ve opened that door?”

Jungkook’s low voice resonates in the room and Jimin wants to slam his forehead into the desk when he realizes he’s pulled up the wrong file. He closes the window, the alcohol making him blink against the bright light of the screen while he clicks through the folders, searching for the right one. 

“You would’ve killed me,” he says matter-of-factly, without looking up. When he finds the right file he opens it and groans inwardly. The whole intro section is always supposed to be filled with data from Jungkook's daily physical inspection. An inspection he has yet to do. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” 

It’s the tone in Jungkook’s voice that makes Jimin lift his gaze. Even from here, he can see the intense look in the other’s eyes and he fights the burn that rises in his cheeks when Jungkook runs his tongue over his bottom lip, stepping closer to the window, his arms still crossed. 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Jimin mumbles as he stands up, the metal legs of the chair scraping over the tiled floor with a jarring noise. He sways as the world starts spinning and it takes him a moment to be able to grab his notepad. “Undress.” 

Jungkook chuckles, moving slowly as he takes his shirt and pants off. 

“It means maybe I would’ve killed you, maybe I would’ve pushed you to the ground and shoved my cock down your throat instead. Who knows.” 

Jimin chokes on the air he’s inhaling, literally stumbling over his own feet, almost crashing into the glass of Jungkook’s cell. The other laughs at his mishap while kicking off his pants, now standing there in all his naked glory. 

“Too drunk for this kind of conversation?” 

Jimin’s face is glowing hot.  “There’s no conversation going on. It’s literally just you talking.” 

“Well, feel free to give your two cents,” Jungkook chuckles. “Do you think you would’ve taken it all straight away like a good boy, or would you have struggled a bit?” 

Jimin’s face feels so hot that he fears his head might explode, his sight blurring as tension floods his lower stomach. He can feel the other’s gaze boring into him, gauging his reaction, and he tries his damn best not to give him any. But his body and mind are drunk and Jungkook’s words roll over his skin like fire, making his head spin, making his lips part to suck air into his lungs.

“I bet you would struggle at first. You’d choke on it. You’d gag and drool— but in the end you would take it, wouldn’t you?” 

Jimin tries not to wonder why Jungkook sounds so breathless, tries to ignore his words. He sways a bit as he brings his pen to his notepad and starts ticking off the boxes. Any visible injuries? No. Any new anomalies not yet documented? No. Skin tone normal? He lets his gaze wander over the other’s exposed skin and the pen almost slips from his fingers when his gaze drops between his legs. 

Jungkook’s cock is hard and flushed, the red hue a stark contrast to the rest of his body. Jimin swallows thickly. Yeah, he would struggle a bit. He wonders if his lips would even stretch this far, and if so, if any drool could even slip out. It would definitely be a tight fit. 

The swirl of heat in his lower stomach increases, his drunk mind wondering if Jungkook would smell like bonfire down there too. Would he taste like it? Is his inner dragon fire heating him up everywhere? Would he be hotter in his mouth than a human cock?

“Yeah I wouldn’t have to force you down at all, would I?” 

Jimin can’t seem to stop staring. 

“You’d do it all by yourself. You’d work so hard, wouldn’t you?” 

He’s sure he’s about to pass out when Jungkook’s hand comes into view, his palm traveling from his hip bone towards his groin, sliding into the juncture of his hip, his thumb trailing dangerously close to his flushed cock while doing so.

“I bet your lips would end up all swollen.” Jungkook’s voice seems even deeper now, rough and gravelly. “Bet your face would get all red and wet. Would you cry, Jimin?”

At the sound of his name, Jimin’s gaze snaps up. There is a faint flush in Jungkook’s cheeks and an expression in his eyes that has a rush start up in Jimin’s ears. 

Hunger.

Jungkook’s expression speaks of pure hunger.

His other hand is planted against the glass, which is fogging up under his warm palm, his gaze trailing down the length of Jimin’s body slowly, briefly pausing on Jimin’s crotch, where Jimin knows the first undeniable sign of hardness is straining against fabric. 

When Jungkook looks back up, Jimin wets his lips and the other follows that movement too.

“Maybe a little bit,” Jimin whispers before he can stop himself. Would you like that? His drunk brain adds but he doesn’t dare to ask out loud. 

Jungkook’s pupils contract and he chuckles breathlessly. 

“Indeed, I would.” 

Oh God, he fucking did say it out loud. Jimin blinks, heat rising in his cheek as he watches the muscles in Jungkook’s jaw clench, the fingers on the window curling into a fist.

“How about you get on your knees, Jimin?” His emerald gaze feels burning hot. “I’m kinda curious how pretty you’d really look down there.”  

Jimin is this close to complying. For a very terrifying second he feels his knees buckle, has just enough strength and willpower to keep them from bending. 

“Come on. Kneel.” 

That snaps him out of it.  

A violent jerk goes through his body when he sobers up. He flushes, heat spreading like wildfire in his face. 

“God, shut up,” he blurts, turning around. “You’re so annoying.” 

“Aw, come on-” 

“Shut. Up.” 

At least, this time, Jungkook seems to listen. With nervously twitching fingers, Jimin closes all files on the computer. He’ll have to come up with an excuse to explain to Namjoon why he wasn’t able to finish the check-up, but he surely can’t stay here any longer. He pushes the pen into the designated holder and tucks the notepad away before he makes his way to where the tray with Jungkook’s dinner is placed.

That was so fucking close. He almost lost control. 

He wishes the ground would swallow him whole when he pushes the tray to the cell with his cart, getting everything ready to open the passageway, feeling Jungkook’s eyes on him the entire time. By now, the other has slipped on his pants again, looking annoyingly normal and collected. With a strain in his jaw Jimin opens the passage and places the cart inside, not meeting Jungkook’s eyes while doing so, stepping out quickly and closing the door on his end before slamming his fist down on the button that opens up the bars on Jungkook’s. 

There is a slow headache forming in his temple. He also might throw up any second now. Why the hell did he drink so much? 

“Take your dinner,” he says, his hand hovering over the button to close the bars threateningly. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue but does as he’s been told. The moment he has taken a step back with the tray in his hand, Jimin slams the button again, the bars rising from the floor until they’re all the way back up. 

With that he turns around and hurries to the exit.

“Aw, Jiminie, don’t be like that,” Jungkook teases. “Didn't our kiss mean anything to you?”

Jimin ignores him.

“How rude!” He hears him shout, just before the heavy door slams shut behind him. 

That night, in his dream, Jimin gets on his knees. 

In his dream he watches Jungkook stroke his cock rhythmically with a little twist of wrist. 

In his dream, from down there on the floor, it looks even bigger. 

In his dream he wishes he could taste it. 

“Do it, Jimin. Touch yourself,” Jungkook rasps, his hand speeding up. “I know you want to.” 

In his dream he undresses, lets Jungkook see everything while pleasuring himself, those emerald eyes burning into him. He feels exposed and vulnerable. But it excites him. 

“Look at you,” he hears dream-Jungkook growl. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” 

In his dream Jungkook tells him to keep his eyes on him and Jimin is burning hotter and hotter and hotter—

“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”  

In his dream Jimin follows the order and watches as Jungkook’s lips part, his brows drawing together, before his cock jerks in his hold and he comes all over the window right in front of Jimin’s face. 

Not long after, the corners of his mouth lift up into a grin.  

“Well, that was nice.” 

Even in his dream cold shame slithers through Jimin’s belly like a big ugly worm.

Fuck. What has he done? 

When Jimin wakes up the next morning he feels uncomfortable and he's utterly mortified when he notices the dried cum sticking to his boxers and skin, making him itch horribly, heavy shame still lingering in his guts.

He’s tired and exhausted, feeling dizzy and sick throughout the entire day. 

He increased the dosage of poison again yesterday, finishing the final vial from his last batch, which means he can start a fresh one tonight. In hindsight, increasing the dosage during a night he’s drunk wasn’t the best idea. The poison doesn’t mix too well with alcohol. It always leaves him in a state of dark thoughts and downward spirals, making him feel like he’s caught in a void of hopelessness. It’s hard to get through days like these.

When he wakes up it’s already around noon and he has trouble getting out of bed. Once he does, he stumbles to the bathroom and takes a long shower, washing off the dried cum, carefully cleaning and treating the wound on his upper arm. At least that one seems to heal quickly. The bruises on his face not so much. They’re still as prominent and hurt still as badly as the day before. When he’s done in the shower, he collapses on his bed again and for the next couple of hours doesn’t seem to be able to move. He misses his classes for the day, knowing his father is having a meeting out of town and (hopefully) won’t notice. To be fair, with those bruises Jimin can't really go outside anyway— All he can do right now is focus on breathing in and out and in and out. 

What if he would just stop breathing? 

His stomach growls but he doesn’t feel like eating either, just the thought of food making him nauseous. 

Only when it’s time to take over the shift in the basement, he gets up and dresses himself, trying to look at least somewhat presentable. Then he forces himself to eat a cereal bar and drink two glasses of water before heading downstairs. 

“Rough night?” Namjoon asks when Jimin shuffles through the door.

Jimin’s stomach drops.

“Why?” He asks warily. He swears to God, if Jungkook told Namjoon anything-

“Because you look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep.”

Jimin relaxes.

“Yeah— I didn’t,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Namjoon says, throwing him a smile. “I saw you didn’t complete Jungkook’s checkup yesterday?” 

Right, there was that. 

“Uh—” Jimin rubs the back of his neck. He forgot to think of an excuse. “He really managed to get under my skin yesterday, I wasn’t—I somehow couldn’t finish it.” 

Namjoon hums in understanding. “It’s okay. Don’t let him get to you, though. You know he loves it.” 

Oh yes, Jimin knows. 

He goes through his daily tasks as if on autopilot. 

Only when he enters Jungkook’s room he snaps out of it, although this time he can’t even find it in him to be nervous or embarrassed or the like. He’s way too tired, too exhausted, too caught up in his own little dark hole. 

This time, Jungkook’s smug grin and teasing words don’t face him. For the most part he ignores the other, except for the necessary orders to do his daily examination. 

Jungkook seems displeased that he can’t get to him today, an annoyed expression having settled on his face by the time Jimin is done with him. Jimin on the other hand is more than glad that he’s finished for the night, can’t wait to get back to his room, his body weirdly on edge now, craving the numbness of the poison. He can’t wait to sleep.

Only to wake up tomorrow and do all of this all over again. And the next day again. And again. And again.

His chest feels heavy and empty and tight on his way to the door. 

Just before he reaches it, his steps slow down until he comes to a halt. He looks over his shoulder.

“Would you kill me if I asked you to?"

What a stupid question. Of course he would. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “What, right now?” 

“In general.” 

"If you asked me to— Yes, obviously.” The other crosses his arms. “Although, it would lose its appeal a little bit if you wanted it." 

"Yeah, I can see that."

"I could be swayed though, if you'd beg really nicely."

Jimin’s chuckle is empty. “I have my pride.”

At that, Jungkook barks out a laugh and Jimin is just about to turn around, when the other speaks up again.

"Hey." There is a hint of a frown on his face, his eyes traveling over the bruises on Jimin’s cheek and jaw, and for a moment he seems hesitant before he continues. "Who did that?"

Jimin is taken aback by the question and Jungkook’s interest in his injuries, especially after he didn’t bring them up again the day before. 

"Does it matter?" He asks after a moment of silence.

Jungkook’s frown deepens briefly, before his face slowly relaxes. He shrugs. 

"I suppose it doesn't."

“Yeah—,” Jimin says, before finally turning around and pressing the button to open the door. “It really doesn’t.” 

Jimin’s immediate warning is the overwhelming dizziness he feels not long after he’s swallowed tonight’s water-poison-mixture. It hits him so hard that his knees buckle under him while he’s washing out the glass in his sink, making it slip from his hand as he sways, shattering on the tiles with a deafening crash when he slumps to the floor, landing amidst the shards. 

Shit. 

He tries to push himself up, but his arms are weak and numb and it takes him forever to get at least into a sitting position. 

This isn’t normal. 

Did he mismeasure? 

Panic rises inside him, his pulse quickening, his fingers growing cold, and his last clear thought is overdose, before everything becomes foggy. 

His eyes struggle to focus on his surroundings, a dull ache throbbing in his head. His senses feel muffled, as if he’s submerged underwater, and he desperately tries to grasp for clarity. 

It’s to no avail. 

He’s being pulled under, deeper and deeper, the world starting to spin around him, objects blurring, shapes being distorted. 

Everything feels foreign, alien, weird, wrong. 

He can’t breathe.

Breathe. 

Jimin’s lips part and at the first breath of oxygen his stomach lurches, his lungs squeezing. His eyes fly open and he coughs and rasps, trying to suck in more air. 

He realizes he’s still in his bathroom, the tiles under him cold and slippery as he heaves himself up. 

When he comes face to face with himself in the mirror the only thing he notices is how purple his lips are, before his legs give out under him again. 

His vision swims, his mind a foggy labyrinth, a maze he struggles to navigate. He almost feels like a marionette with tangled strings, his limbs heavy and unresponsive as he moves, his thoughts slurred and jumbled, the sounds around him nothing but distant echoes, distorted, warped. Until one of them drowns out all the others. 

“Are you drunk again?” 

Jimin blinks his heavy eyelids open, struggling to bring his blurry surroundings into focus as he lifts his head with great difficulty.

Jungkook’s green eyes are staring at him and the ground Jimin is walking on is uneven, slipping away beneath him, making him slump to the side, his shoulder crashing into the glass of Jungkook’s cell, before he topples over, his knees crashing into the floor.

How did he get here? 

He sinks down on his side until his cheek is pressing against the cold tiles beneath him. 

Jungkook looks at him from above with a frown and sniffs the air. Then his eyebrows rise, his voice muffled like wrapped in cotton when he speaks up.

“Oh. You were poisoned,” he says matter-of-factly, not sounding surprised at all.

“Ha—Yeah—,” Jimin slurs, his tongue too big, too heavy.

Jungkook hums. “I was actually thinking about telling you. You’ve been smelling of poison for the past couple of years, someone must’ve been really determined to kill you. Looks like they might have succeeded this time.” 

Jimin blinks up at him from where he’s lying on the floor, his mental gears grinding against the haze he’s in. 

“That’s not— not very nice of you,” he whispers, the room around him spinning.

“What isn’t?” 

“Not telling me— You–You could’ve told me—” 

Jungkook laughs. “You really didn’t notice that something was wrong?” 

His voice seems distant, fragmented.

“Hm?” Jimin blinks again, the meaning of the words taking a while to reach him. “Oh, yeah—yeah, of course I knew— But still— could’ve told me.” 

Jungkook frowns. “You knew and didn’t try to do anything? To find out who it is? Rat him out to your father?” 

Jimin chuckles, his throat dry. “Oh, I know who it is—” He watches Jungkook’s frown deepen above him. “I have a secret, Jungkook,” he slurs, his voice merely a whisper. “Wanna hear it?” 

“Sure.” 

“I’m taking the poison myself.”

“What?” 

“Heh– you look surprised,” Jimin chuckles at Jungkook’s expression, a slow darkness creeping in from the corners of his vision. “You— You really thought I’d let someone poison me— like a dumbass—” 

“You are a dumbass. Why would you take something like that of your own accord?” 

“Because I’m scared,” Jimin slurs, pressing his hot fingertips against the cold glass to Jungkook’s feet. “Because I’m so scared of him—” 

“Of who?” 

“My father.”

“You tried to kill yourself because you’re scared of your father?” 

Jimin snorts. “I didn't try to kill myself— I tried to survive.” He licks his lips, but his tongue is too dry to wet them. “But I guess— something went wrong—hm—was prob-probably bound to happen—" 

Only a heartbeat later darkness sweeps across his vision, his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Jimin!” 

Jimin feels disoriented, his mind floating.

“Jimin, can you hear me?!” 

The concerned voice, somewhat familiar, seems distant and muted but it cuts through the foggy haze like a lifeline that Jimin holds onto, desperately trying to pull himself out of it.

As reality gradually seeps back in, he blinks his eyes open, trying to focus. A blurry figure materializes in front of him. 

“Jimin,” Namjoon says, a hand reaching out, patting his cheek. “Come on, look at me.” 

Slowly, his eyes regain focus. 

He seems to be lying on the floor, Namjoon is above him, looking at him with wide eyes full of worry and concern. The bright lights on the ceiling make Jimin’s stomach churn. 

What happened? He wants to ask as he tries to sit up, his body heavy and uncooperative, but no sound comes out.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he hears Namjoon say and then there is an arm around him, supporting him. “Try to hold on.” 

His numb fingers dig into the other’s shoulders as he’s lifted up and then they are moving across the room. 

Just before they walk through the door, he meets eyes with Jungkook, who is watching them with a deep frown. 

“For over two fucking years?!” 

Jimin has never witnessed Namjoon this furious. 

“You’ve been drinking that poison for over two years?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!” He yells, walking back and forth in front of Jimin's cot. 

Jimin is feeling significantly better. It’s been almost 7 hours since Namjoon found him and had him hooked up to a blood-transfusion here in the backrooms of their lab, where nobody would find him. 

“Do you even know how dangerous that is?! You could’ve died, Jimin!”

“I know,” Jimin whispers, shoulders pulled up. 

“You know?!” Namjoon stops in his tracks to look at him, an aghast expression on his face. “Do you really? Jimin, you really– You really almost died last night!” 

“I know,” Jimin sits up taller. “But– I was careful! I always measured it precisely, I increased the dosage only little by little, I monitored my well-being, I don’t— I don’t know what went wrong yesterday, I-” 

“I can tell you what went wrong, you stupid idiot!” Namjoon bellows, his voice breaking. There is the unmistakable sheen of tears in his eyes. “We changed the formula!” He yells. “I did! I changed the formula because he said it’s not strong enough! You stole from the new batch, you—” He takes a shuddering breath. “I almost fucking killed you, Jimin.” 

Ah, that makes sense. 

Jimin swallows drily, his throat parched even though he had two large bottles of water already. He feels horrible.

“I’m sorry—” He whispers. “It wouldn’t have been your fault, you know that. I knew of the risks, I knew what could’ve happened— I just— I was trying to protect myself.” He pauses, his eyes meeting the other’s. “Joonie, he will try to kill me eventually.” He pauses when the other’s shoulders slowly sink down. “You know that, right? He will poison me, he—” He trails off.

For a moment it’s silent. Then Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You will stop immediately.” 

“No.” 

“No?!” The other steps closer, his eyes pleading. “Jimin, was yesterday not warning enough? You could’ve died!” 

“And if I stop I will die from that poison anyway. Sooner or later.” 

Namjoon stares at him. 

“You know I’m right,” Jimin continues. 

"You're reckless!"

"But I'm right."

“Jimin, you can’t-”

“You know I’m right.”

The other drops his head before he slumps down on the chair next to Jimin's cot with a heavy sigh. 

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

He looks tired and worn out, a little small and helpless too. 

For a while it's silent.

“Please stop,” Namjoon eventually whispers.

“No.”

He rubs his face. "If you don't stop-" 

"I won't.”

Namjoon throws him a hard look.

“If you don’t stop,” he repeats. “I want you to report back to me, every single day." His voice is hard too. “I want you to tell me how you feel, I will measure your blood oxygen level everyday non-invasively and I will draw your blood and have a look at it at least once a week. I want you to inform me about every increase in dosage and about every inconsistency you might experience, no matter how insignificant.” He takes a deep breath. “Please.” 

Jimin nods, a small lump forming in his throat. 

“Okay,” he says before dropping his gaze down to his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re like a brother to me, Jimin. My best friend,” Namjoon whispers. “I couldn’t stand losing you, so I really really hate this. But I do understand that the chance of me losing you to his hand increases if you don’t take these— measures.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I just— I wish you wouldn’t have to do this. I really hate all of this.” 

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles. “I do too.” 

Only about a week later Jimin's face has healed enough that, with a bit of makeup, he's finally able to attend classes again.

Even though he's sure he’s covered the last patches of slightly discolored skin up sufficiently, he makes an effort to have their driver drop him off at the academy so early that he doesn't run into anyone on his way to his first lecture of the day, the auditorium still empty when he takes a seat in the very far back.

He's still a little bit on edge from a brief interaction he had with his father this morning.

'Don't forget your meeting with Doyoon tomorrow night. He'll be here at eight and I expect you to be on your best behavior. Make it up to him. I made sure you'll have your privacy.' 

Jimin shudders and tries to wipe the topic from his mind. He'll think about it tomorrow.

He doesn't really have any friends or acquaintances here at the academy, so there isn't really anyone who'd send him notes or the like. He'll have to ask his professor if she's willing to help him out. Thankfully, he's a good student, always achieving some of the highest marks, so he's sure she won't mind.

After the lecture is over and he's successfully talked to his professor, assuring her that he's feeling all better now, he grabs some food from the cafeteria before heading to the library, where he catches up on some reading. About two hours later he makes his way to his second lecture of the day. 

He's a bit late this time and the spacious lecture hall already filled with students. Still, Jimin manages to get a seat at the very far back again.

It's about 15 minutes into the lecture, the professor at the front passionately delivering a presentation on statutory interpretation, when Jimin's phone, placed on the desk, starts buzzing loudly with an incoming call.

He jumps at the noise and quickly snatches it off the table but apparently not quick enough, judging from the few annoyed glances he receives from nearby students. 

One look at the caller ID and his eyes widen.

Namjoon? 

Namjoon knows he's at the academy today. He's never called him during a lecture before.

Immediately Jimin's heart starts pounding. 

Something must've happened. 

Something with the creatures? Was Kalliope taken away earlier than planned?

He ducks his head and slings his backpack over his shoulder before discreetly exiting the room, trying to avoid any unnecessary attention. Once the door has fallen shut behind him, he answers the call. Even though he keeps his voice low, it echoes through the corridor.

"Joon?"

"Jimin, listen to me.'  The other's voice is hushed and there is an urgency to his tone. 'You need to come home immediately.'

Jimin frowns, as he sets off towards the main stairs.

"Why? What happened? Is everyone okay?"

There is a short moment of silence.

"I can't explain over the phone. Just— just come here, okay? Your driver should arrive at the parking lot any minute now. Don't talk to anyone, make sure you're not being followed. Just get in the car and come here."

Jimin adjusts his backpack while hurrying down the stairs, his footsteps echoing around him, his pulse going wild. What the hell is happening?

"You're scaring me, Joon," he whispers. "Tell me what's going on."

He makes his way out the door, stepping into the warm sunlight, blinking against the brightness while his eyes scan the parking lot for one of their cars. Once he spots it, he quickens his pace.

"Joon, talk to me," he pleads.

There are hushed voices talking over each other on Namjoon’s end, but he can't make out what they're saying as he hurries to the black vehicle, opening the door and sliding into the backseat.

'Your father,' Namjoon eventually says just as Jimin pulls the door shut. 'He's dead.' 

Murder.

Apparently, it was murder.

Jimin feels sick and kinda far away, his surroundings weirdly unreal, almost as if he’s in a dream. 

Namjoon hasn’t told him much more over the phone. Only that his father is dead.

And that it was murder. 

The entire car ride Jimin is on edge, his heart beating so fast that he can hear the thrum in his ears, almost overshadowing the loud thoughts surging through his head. Thoughts that start up but never fully form, thoughts that try to make sense but don’t, thoughts that are drowned out by new thoughts, questions over questions over questions…

His father dead.

Gone. 

Finally gone. 

He doesn’t even have it in him to feel ashamed at the thought. 

Murdered. 

By whom? What happened? Why did Namjoon sound so scared?

His driver isn’t talking and Jimin doesn’t dare to ask him about anything, can only stare at the white knuckles of his hands clasping the wheel. 

What the hell is going on?

When they arrive at their property, driving through the main gate, at first glance everything seems normal. But once they round a corner, Jimin spots a car – a black van – he’s never seen before. When they pass it, he notices that it doesn’t have a license plate attached to it. There are wheel tracks all over their lawn, the grass dug up by heavy tires, some of the flower beds destroyed. 

When they reach the main entrance, he pushes the car door open and stumbles outside even before they have fully come to a halt. His driver’s “I wish you all the best, Mr. Park.” reaches him a little too late and the moment he turns around the car has already taken off again, driving down the road back to the gate.

What the fuck?

Jimin shakes his head and almost trips as he hurries up the wide steps leading to the massive double door, which is standing wide open. He’s like in trance, weirdly numb and only snapping back into reality once he has set foot into their entrance hall. 

He audibly gasps at the sight in front of him.

Everything is destroyed. 

Shattered chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, remnants of artwork scattered all across the floor, the opulent furniture literally ripped apart…

Jimin’s heart races as he cautiously steps over the chaos, his hesitant footsteps being met with the crunch of broken glass and splintered wood. A stinging acrid smell lingers in the air, sending a shudder down his spine.

What the hell happened here?

He’s alone. Not a single person in sight, his surroundings weirdly quiet except for his own footsteps. Something about it makes his palms sweat and he tries to move more carefully, tries being less noisy, his unease increasing. 

Where is everyone?

Where is Namjoon?

He opens his lips but, in the end, he doesn’t dare to call out to him, his throat tight, his mouth dry. His eyes wander over his surroundings and he’s just about to round the corner to the dining room when a sudden noise makes him halt, freezing mid-step. 

First he thinks he imagined it but then he hears it again. A faint clanking sound coming from—coming from the basement. 

His stomach drops and without a second thought he hurries towards the elevator, pushing the buttons with damp fingertips. When it doesn’t seem to move, he makes his way to the stairwell, typing in his code and unlocking the door. His footsteps hall around him as he hurries downstairs, almost jumping out of his skin when the heavy door slams shut behind him. 

The moment he steps into the basement his blood runs cold and he reaches out to steady himself on the wall. 

Cracked and splintered cages, torn open with brute force, destroyed enclosures, cell doors blown up, blackened with soot, the air tasting of metal and sulfur.

Immediately, Jimin feels sick, his breathing growing shallow as he stumbles down the corridor. 

The creatures are gone. 

Bile rises in his throat when his eyes land on a single tiny pixie-wing on the ground, dull, not shimmering anymore. He clutches his shirt right where his heart is pounding against his ribs.

What happened to them? 

His sight is blurring as he quickens his steps. Suddenly it’s impossible to breathe, the lump in his throat choking him, his entire body growing cold when he rounds the corner to Pearl’s stable and is greeted with he sight of blood. The door has been ripped from its hinges, bloody handprints all over it. And the unicorn is gone. 

Jimin sways and turns around himself.

Everyone is gone. 

A sob tears from his throat as he jerks around and rushes towards Kalliope’s tank, tears burning in his eyes when he finds the door ripped from its hinges and covered in blood as well. He stumbles inside. 

The water lies still, unmoving, quiet. And Kalliope is nowhere to be found.

Jimin is breathing hard where he’s standing, staring into the water, gasping for air. 

What happened here? Who did this? Where— 

Literally everyone is gone. 

Everyone-

His eyes grow wide and suddenly he feels very very sick.

“Oh God—,” he whispers before he takes off, running towards Jungkook’s room. 

The heavy security door is standing wide open and just when he’s about to step through, someone rushes out of it, so quickly that they both have no time to stop before they collide. A scream gets stuck in Jimin’s throat. 

“Jimin,” Namjoon gasps, grabbing him by his shoulders while Yoongi rushes out the room behind him. 

They’re both pale, their eyes wide and—

Jimin’s stomach drops. 

Is that blood?!

“Don’t go in there!” Namjoon pants and before Jimin can even ask what those red stains on his lab coat are, he’s pushed backwards, away from the door. “I shouldn't have told you to come here, we need to leave!”

“Immediately,” Yoongi says and jogs past him.

“What— What happened?” Jimin asks, his eyes landing on the open door behind Namjoon and he tries to step around him.

The other’s grip on his shoulders tightens.

“Don’t go in there,” Namjoon pleads, shaking his head. “You don’t wanna see that.” 

“Hurry up!” Yoongi yells from down the hallway, his voice echoing around them.

Don’t wanna see what? 

What happened to Jungkook?!

Jimin’s head is swimming, his heart is pounding wildly in his throat as he shakes Namjoon’s hands off and pushes past him. 

“Jimin-”

The first thing he notices when he stumbles inside, almost tripping over his own feet, is the blood. It’s everywhere. Blood on the floor, blood on the walls, it even smells of blood, coppery and sweet. 

And there are people. 

People he’s never seen before. 

Dead people.

The sight makes him recoil, his stomach lurching, his entire face growing numb.

They’re not just dead. They’ve been ripped apart. He can’t even tell how many of them there are because they’re– their parts are scattered all over the room. Four— maybe five?

Jimin presses the back of his hand to his lips and nose, gagging.

This is so gruesome, who the hell would be capable of this?

He’s just finished the thought when his gaze snaps to Jungkook’s cell. 

It’s empty, the passageway wide open. 

Jungkook is gone. 

Jimin just about manages to bend forward before his stomach empties itself violently all over the floor.

The restaurant is small and hot, the humid air together with his spicy Thai Curry, causing sweat to form on Jimin’s upper lip. The sounds of the staff shouting at each other in the kitchen mix with the sizzling noises of food being fried, the smells of oil and meat and spices hanging heavy in the air. The sun is burning through the window in his back and he reaches for his water, chugs it in one go, the ice cubes clanking, the liquid doing not much to cool his burning tongue. 

They’ve been on the road for almost 24 hours, taking turns on the wheel, and this is their first meal since they drove off. They’re sweaty and exhausted and in need of a shower and a bed. 

“We should look for a hotel,” Jimin says quietly, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Take a break— and a shower.” He refills his glass with iced water, making sure to put the pitcher exactly where it has left a stain of condensation on the wooden table afterwards. 

Yoongi eyes him over his bowl of Pad Thai. “Do you think we’re far enough?” 

Jimin shrugs and looks at Namjoon questioningly. The scientist’s eyes are framed by dark circles, his sweaty shirt sticking to his chest. 

Jimin can only imagine what he went through during the hours Jimin wasn’t home.

While he was sitting in his lectures at the academy, safe and sound, there was something what could only be described as an attack at the manor.

“We don’t know who it was,” Namjoon whispered from the passenger seat after they took off in Yoongi’s car. “Four or five vans, dozens of guys, masked and– and armed—” There was a tremor in his voice. “They threatened us and locked us in the kitchen, told us to not come out until they said so. They—” He looked down on his blood-stained lab coat. “They shot one of the servants who tried to flee, I—I tried to save him but—” That’s when he trailed off, his face contorting into an expression of pain. 

Jimin didn’t know what to say and for a while it was uncomfortably silent inside the car. 

“Why didn’t security do anything?” He eventually asked. 

Yoongi’s fists clenched around the wheel. “I think some of them were in on it—” 

Jimin nodded. Made sense. 

“You should change into something else,” he said after a while, taking in Namjoon’s soiled clothes from where he’s sitting in the back. “I packed some stuff that might fit you.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon mumbled, his voice faint. 

The people came to take their creatures. And they didn’t seem to do it from a place of goodness or because they wanted to help them. 

“I heard them talk,” Yoongi said bitterly after a couple of hours on the road. “They were after them for the money. Probably gonna sell them—” 

Jimin’s heart squeezed in his chest at the words. 

“Well, they didn’t get all of them,” he whispered and the words sounded more like a bad joke than anything else, because the fact that Jungkook managed to kill a handful of them and most likely escaped was not necessarily a good thing. At least not for them. 

Surprisingly, it was Yoongi who panicked the most back in the basement.  

“We really have to go!” He said breathlessly while grabbing Jimin by his arm before Jimin could even wipe the vomit from his lips. “We don’t know who did this but they killed your father and they could come back for you! Your room– they searched it, everything is destroyed, and the–the dragon—” His eyes were wide, his breathing labored. “He—he could still be here!” 

Jimin felt dizzy and overwhelmed, the panic clutching his throat making it impossible to think, the room around him closing in. 

Calm down, a familiar voice inside his head told him. Breathe in, 1, 2, 3… Breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…. 

He tried to breathe, sucking air into his lungs.

“Come on, we need to leave now!” 

Think.

He closes his eyes. 

Don’t let fear shut you down. Think. 

Slowly, his mind cleared. 

“The surveillance room.” 

“What?” 

“The entire property is scanned for movement every 15 seconds,” he said, looking at Yoongi. “Check the monitors in the surveillance room if it’s safe for us to leave.” 

In the end, the entire area was empty. 

Nobody was there. No human, no creature. It was just them. 

Which gave Jimin time to pack some stuff before they left and he thankfully thought about packing things for Namjoon too.

Jimin’s shirt is too tight on him and would probably stick to his skin even without the sweat. But at least it’s clean and not covered in blood. Like this they were able to stop here to get some food without turning heads.

“I think we should go a little further,” Namjoon answers Jimin’s silent question. “I can still drive.” 

“Joonie, you need some rest,” Yoongi says, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair from the other’s face before rubbing his back until Namjoon’s shoulders slowly relax. 

Jimin has noticed all the little touches and softly spoken words those two have been sharing during the past hours and how comfortable they are with each other. Even though they try to be lowkey, it’s very obvious that they are a thing. 

Jimin wonders how he’s never noticed and for how long it has been going on. It’s none of his business though. And there are more pressing matters at hand right now. 

He pokes his curry with his spoon, the uncomfortable sensation of shame filling the pit of his stomach. 

“I really need a break, Joon,” He mumbles and scoops some meat up without meeting the other’s eyes. “I need— I need to do something.” 

There is a tremor in his hands that has started up about an hour ago and a fatigue deep inside him that stems from something else than the long hours on the road. 

He knows what it is. 

His body needs the poison.

Namjoon wasn’t happy when Jimin insisted on taking all of the vials he could carry. 

“Now that your father is dead, why would you still need them?!” He asked back at the house. 

Compared to the dead strangers downstairs, the sight of his dead father was almost calming to Jimin, In a weird way. 

At first glance, he didn’t really look dead — although, there definitely was something unfamiliar about seeing him with his eyes closed, just sitting there in his chair, head against the backrest. Jimin couldn’t remember ever seeing him sleep or relax. At second glance however, you could tell that something was wrong. His skin was weirdly pale, lips slightly bluish— the sight unnatural, a little bit creepy, and yet somehow familiar. 

“He was poisoned,” Jimin said, the surprise evident in his voice. He stared at the body on the other side of the desk unblinkingly until his eyes started burning. Strangely, he didn't feel anything. Had he wished for his father's death before? Yes. Was he happy now? No. Was he sad? Also no. He was just empty. Very empty. And confused.

“Yes,” Yoongi stepped up next to him, pointing at a half-empty glass of water that’s placed on the desk. “He was.” 

A wild laugh escaped Jimin’s throat, a foreign sound that startled even himself.

“He died from his own poison?” He tried to stop himself from giggling when Yoongi made another affirmative sound but it was to no avail. “The irony,” he chuckled. 

And then he kept staring. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. 

Dead. 

His father was really dead. 

“Jimin, we should leave now,” Namjoon's voice reached him. ”Please.” 

“But where should we even go?” Jimin whispered. 

“We’ll figure something out.” 

That he packed all of the poison he could find in the end was terrifying to himself too. Dozens and dozens of vials – that would probably last him at least a year if he was careful with them – clanking against each other in his bag. The fact that they were one of the first things he thought of was unsettling, hot shame flooding his cheeks at Namjoon’s disapproving look.

“They killed him with his own poison. If they are really searching for me— They might try it on me, too.”

That’s what he came up with.

Really, the chances that those people – well, the ones that were still alive – would come back for him were very slim. What would they even want with him? They already got what they apparently wanted. The creatures. Right?

Except for Jungkook. Most likely. 

The poor guys who were responsible for collecting him from his enclosure probably didn’t know what hit them. Or maybe it was a calculated loss. Jimin wondered if they knew how dangerous he was. The fact that the majority of them managed to flee in their cars – most likely loaded up with creatures – spoke for the theory that they knew and that they came prepared, that they probably anticipated Jungkook’s rage. 

And Jimin anticipated it too. 

The moment he stepped into his bedroom to fill his bags with the most necessary things, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched, even though the monitors in the surveillance room didn’t show any signs of any living being on the property. His room was destroyed, someone clearly went through all his stuff and Jimin wasn’t sure if it was the people who attacked them or maybe—someone else. 

The thought that Jungkook was probably out there right now, on the loose, was terrifying. To say the least. 

Even though Namjoon and Yoongi kept going on about how the people who took the creatures could come back for Jimin or that the cops could come for all three of them – now that Jimin’s father was dead and all the staff finally free to go to the police and tell them about the creatures and the auctions – the unspoken fact that Jungkook could try and take revenge too has been hanging heavily in the air between them ever since they left the blood-soiled basement behind.

That’s why his argument for taking the vials of poison with him was ridiculously weak. 

Those people possibly coming back for him and trying to sneak poison into his drinks is the least of their worries right now. Most likely the biggest problem is the fact that a violent vengeful dragon – a Zelkath – might be after them. And the second biggest one is the fact that they might be on a governmental wanted list for being part of a shady business that sold illegal goods that nobody ever heard of before. 

And that Jimin has to poison himself under these circumstances doesn’t help. He gets that. 

“Can you do it in the car?” Namjoon asks, a disapproving scowl on his face. 

The air has been a bit frigid between them ever since they argued over Jimin taking the poison with him. And Jimin hated it. He knows Namjoon is on edge right now, just like himself. Them fighting makes things so much worse. 

“I mean– I guess? But I’ll sleep for a while. So if something happens-” 

“We got you,” Yoongi says. He’s been trying to play the part of the mediator in their unspoken fight. Jimin isn’t sure if he even understands what exactly is going on. 

“I really wish you wouldn’t take it anymore,” Namjoon says about half an hour later, when Jimin measures the poison in a plastic cup with water, sitting in the backseat of the car while they are waiting for Yoongi to be done paying for their food.  

“I’m not going into withdrawal now, Joon.” 

Namjoon sighs. “Yeah— But eventually. Eventually, you’ll have to stop, do you hear me? We don’t know the long term effects and there is no reason-”

“I’ll consider it once we’re out of all this, okay?” Jimin says, his tone having more of an edge to it than he would’ve liked. 

The other’s shoulders sink. “Yeah—okay.” 

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek. He hates this. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, softer now, as he screws his water bottle shut. “I know you’re angry with me and I get it, really, but-”

“Angry?” Namjoon chuckles, the sound tired. “I’m angry that I have to be on the run now. I’m angry at your father for ruining my life. I’m angry at my father for going into debt with him back then and dragging me into this. I’m angry with myself for not being able to save that servant. I’m angry with myself that I couldn’t protect the creatures, that I let them take them just like that, without even trying to do anything. With you— With you I’m not angry. I’m mildly frustrated.” He smiles weakly. “And very worried.” 

There is something thick and hard forming in Jimin’s throat. 

“You’re my best friend, Joon,” he whispers, the corners of his eyes burning. “And I feel horrible for worrying you.” He bites his lower lip to keep it from wobbling. “I love you, I hope you know that.” 

“Yeah—” Namjoon ruffles his hair. “And I love you.” 

“We’ll make it, right?” 

“Yes, we will.” 

Fear is a cage that I can’t be contained in.  

10 months later…

“Jiwon, you can clock out, I’ve got it.”

Jimin looks up. “Okay.” 

He gets the final double chocolate chip cookie out of the box and puts it inside the big cookie jar on top of the counter, right next to the register, before taking off his plastic gloves, scrunching them up into a ball and throwing them into the trash. 

“The boxes with the oat milk still need to be unpacked, you sure you don’t need help with that?”

“No no, it’s fine! Your shift ended 30 minutes ago,” Vivienne says. She has her hair up in a messy bun, her reading glasses still on her face, sitting slightly crooked on the bridge of her nose. She must’ve come here right from the library, since finals are right around the corner. “It’s gonna be quiet anyway.” 

She says it with a hopeful tone, probably because she wants to get some more studying done. 

Jimin doesn’t envy her, studying has always been a pain in the ass for him. That’s one of the reasons why he never picked his law studies up again. He never liked it anyway. 

And she’s right, now that spring is around the corner, the weather getting a little warmer after the long cold winter, their little cozy coffee shop is indeed emptier than before. 

“Maybe we should start serving more iced stuff,” Jimin muses while loosening the knot of his apron. 

“Don’t give her ideas,” Vivienne whines. “It’s just gonna get busy again.”

Jimin chuckles. “Don’t you want the shop to do well?” 

“I guess,” she pouts, leaning against the countertop with a sigh. “Debbie would be happy if the summers weren’t so slow anymore.” 

Debbie – the owner of the shop – is pushing 70 already and a bit clueless when it comes to marketing and advertising her shop or changing up the menu to go with certain trends that would keep people interested – especially college kids, since the main campus isn’t far. She’s always been open to every suggestion Jimin made so far, for example adding pumpkin spice latte as a special to their menu in fall. 

“I’ll talk to her later this week,” he says, putting his apron on the coat hook next to the storage room door. “I think she might be here on Sunday.” 

Vivienne nods and then they both turn around when the bell above the door jingles. 

“Hi!” Namjoon says with a gentle smile, holding the door open with one hand, a plastic bag of groceries in the other. “I knew you’d still be here, Jiwon.” 

“I told him to leave twice already!” Vivienne exclaims. 

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, good thing I’m here to take him with me then. How are your studies going, Viv?” 

She sighs theatrically. “It’s awful, Seojun. Awful. You don’t even know.” 

“It’ll be over soon though, right?” 

“Yeah— Two more weeks and I’m finally free!”  She throws her hands in the air, making Namjoon laugh, Jimin chuckling along. “How is your new book coming along?” She asks, after putting her arms back down and pushing a strand of hair from her face, realizing in the process that she’s still wearing her reading glasses which she takes off with a frown and puts them on her head. 

Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to sigh. “Well— I’m afraid I hit a bit of a block. An awful one, actually—” He holds up his plastic bag with groceries. “Got some ice cream and chocolate liquor, maybe that will help.” 

Vivienne claps her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “I really hope it does, I can’t wait for your next release!” 

“Thank you, Viv,” Namjoon smiles before turning to Jimin. “You wanna come over and have some ice cream too?”

“So that you can accuse me of keeping you from writing again? No thank you,” Jimin grumbles, pocketing his wallet and phone. 

“Aww, come on, Daejung’s been in the studio all week and I’m lonely.” 

Jimin huffs but he knows that Namjoon does actually get a bit lonely when Yoongi isn’t around and that it does weigh on his creative flow. 

“Fine. Do you have butter cookies too?” 

“I sure do.” 

“Well, alright then.” Jimin makes his way to the door, turning around to give a brief wave. ”Bye, Viv!”

“Bye! See you tomorrow!” 

Vanilla ice cream with chocolate liquor and butter cookies might not be the most nutritious afternoon snack but it’s definitely better than the leftover Ramen in Jimin’s fridge. He’ll have that for dinner though. 

“I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm?” Jimin asks around a spoon full of ice cream, the cold creamy texture melting on his tongue.

“It looks like Yoongi will submit the album tomorrow,” Namjoon says, causing Jimin to look up at him with wide eyes. 

“Already?!” 

“Yeah, it’s crazy isn’t it?” Namjoon smiles, sitting up a bit taller and puffing out his chest a little, clearly proud of his boyfriend's achievements. “He’s such a hard worker and the past weeks were really stressful, so I wanted to do something nice for him— It’s just—” His shoulders slump and he pushes his half-melted ice cream around with his spoon, mixing it with the chocolate. “I’m not good at that kind of stuff. I wanted to cook him a romantic dinner or something but— you know—” He smiles sheepishly at Jimin. “I can’t cook.” 

Ah, that’s how it is. 

“So you want me to cook a whole dinner for you two and you reap all the praise?” Jimin jokes, taking a sip of his water.

“Well, I was actually thinking of you and me cooking together.” The other rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe you could teach me a bit?” When Jimin throws him a skeptical look, his tone gets defensive. “I got a lot better at dicing vegetables and stuff!” 

“Just the other day you weren’t even peeling the potato right.” 

“I said I got better at dicing, not peeling,” Namjoon mumbles. “Anyway, he’ll come back from the studio tomorrow at eight, so I thought if you get off work around two, we’d have enough time to get a little dinner ready?”

“And I’d only be here for the cooking or can I eat some of it too?” 

“Well—” Namjoon ducks his head. “You could bring tupperware and take some of it home?” At Jimin’s loud snort his expression turns pleading. “I’m begging you, help me.” 

Jimin sighs and then giggles. Of course he’ll help. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Nothing fancy. The other day he said he’s craving Kimchi Jjigae. Is that hard to make?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Not at all. How about I get the ingredients tomorrow on my way back from work?” 

“You’re the best!” 

“I know.” 

Jimin’s apartment isn’t far from Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s. Not at all. 

It’s actually located in the very same building. Only two floors down to be exact. 

Since the elevator is out of order, as per usual, Jimin makes his way downstairs by foot after finishing his ice cream.

When they first arrived here, after being on the road for almost two months, hopping from one cheap motel to the next until they finally felt safe enough to settle somewhere, he wasn’t sure if living in the same building was smart. Even living in the same area, the same city, felt like a risk. A risk for Namjoon and Yoongi that is. With Jimin being tied to his father a lot closer than the two of them, the chances of him being tracked down were a lot higher. Tracked down by whoever. They still didn’t know if anyone was even after them and if so, who. 

When both Namjoon and Yoongi vehemently held him back from going on further and searching for a place somewhere else, maybe even leaving the country, Jimin felt a huge chunk of weight lifting off his chest, the relief almost bringing him to tears. 

He was scared back then. So scared. He probably wouldn’t have managed to go on by himself. 

With the help of a friend of Yoongi’s, and quite a lot of money, they were able to start a new life with new identities.

They aren’t Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin anymore. They carry new IDs with new names now, fake documents telling backstories about them that never happened. 

Their real backstories they will most likely take to their graves. 

Jimin thinks about them every day though. 

About Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Park Jimin. 

About the creatures and what happened to them. About Kalliope the mermaid, about Pearl the unicorn, about Jungkook the dragon— He thinks about what they’ve done to them, wonders where they are right now. He dreams about them almost every single night. 

At least by now, it’s not only nightmares anymore. 

Within the past 10 months they found not only a new home, but new jobs and new social lives. Although, except for Namjoon and Yoongi, Jimin wouldn’t call any of the new people in his life his friends. He probably wouldn’t even call Namjoon and Yoongi that. Those two are so much more. Those two are like brothers to him. They are family. While all the other people are more like— acquaintances. It is hard to build friendships when you carry so many secrets with you, when you’re not even allowed to tell them your real name. 

It took a while but eventually, they were able to anonymously access all the money on Jimin’s bank account and transfer it to a new account overseas, where they are now, little by little, transferring it to a local account he got set up under his new name here. His father’s fortune is of course gone, Jimin wouldn’t even know how to get his hands on that, but luckily for him, his father used Jimin's account as some kind of depot on the side. He always preferred keeping his money in several places, instead of only one. 

Which paid off for Jimin because now Jimin still has a small fortune to his name – well, his new name – which he can now use to live comfortably in his decently sized apartment, with a job at a local coffee shop that doesn’t make much money but that he loves doing. 

“Kimchi Jjigae—” He mumbles a couple of hours later, right before going to bed, while measuring today’s dose of poison in a glass of water in his dimly lit kitchen. 

He’s decreasing the amount again today. 

He only has enough poison for about three months left – four maybe, depending on how sparing he is with it – and he doesn’t want to crash too hard, so he tries to wean himself and his body off it slowly, gradually, bit by bit lowering the dosage. 

He throws his fridge a look as if it’s the fridge’s fault that it’s almost entirely empty behind its closed door. 

He’ll definitely bring that tupperware tomorrow.

The next day after work, Jimin is late.

“Shit, I gotta hurry,” he exclaims while yanking his apron off. “I still have to get groceries.” 

“Ah, the romantic dinner,” Viv giggles, pointing at an area on Jimin’s jeans where he apparently managed to get white chocolate powder on himself. 

Jimin curses and dusts it off. 

“Yeah, the romantic dinner I won’t have any part in,” he grumbles. 

“We’ll have to find you a girlfriend or boyfriend, Jiwon. You’re too pretty to be alone.” 

Jimin looks at her scandalized. “Excuse me?”

She holds both of her palms up. “I’m just saying, you deserve to be spoiled and get dinner cooked for you. Not cook a romantic dinner for your friends and then eat the leftovers all alone in your apartment. That’s just sad.”

“It won’t be leftovers,” Jimin points out. “It’ll be freshly cooked.” 

“Still.” Her eyes light up. “Actually! I have this friend. He’s really cute, maybe a bit nerdy, but-”

“That’s great, Viv, but let’s talk about it another time, okay? Gotta go!” Jimin hurries to the door, quite happy to ditch this conversation. 

It’s not just hard to build friendships when you carry so many secrets with you and you’re not even allowed to tell people your real name. Naturally it’s even harder to open yourself up to someone for love. It’s unthinkable. Getting close to someone under these circumstances would be dishonest. It would feel like a lie. In a way it’s sad, because Jimin knows he probably won’t ever be able to share his life with someone. But somehow, it’s also freeing. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Jiwon!” Vivienne shouts after him and Jimin just laughs and waves.

It’s pleasantly warm today, so warm that Jimin is almost glad that he forgot his jacket this morning. His long sleeve shirt is more than enough, especially when half-jogging to the store in the sun. Before entering the place, he shoots Namjoon a text:

running a bit late, I’ll be there in 30 minutes

It takes a bit longer than expected to get all the ingredients he needs, not having made a grocery list causing him to run back and forth between shelves and stand-up displays, from the produce section to the cooling section, back to the produce, before remembering he has to get meat too—

Finally, sesame oil is the only thing left.

He’s just reading the labels of two different oil bottles, holding them next to each other to compare the prices, his shopping basket placed on the ground between his feet, when, from his peripheral, he notices someone stepping up to him. 

Only a heartbeat later the sudden weight of a heavy arm around his shoulders makes him jump and when the woodsy scent of a bonfire on a hot summer day hits his nose it takes only half a second for his brain to click.

Once it does, all his muscles lock, his heart surging into his throat, his face growing cold, the bottles almost sliding from his hold. 

‘One day I will get out of here and I will hunt you down.’

He doesn’t dare to move, keeps staring straight ahead, the sensation of hot breath ghosting over his hair sending goosebumps down his spine.

There is a deep chuckle. 

“Found you.”

Chapter Text

The monsters in your closet crawled inside your head.

There is a loud rush in Jimin’s ears, his heart pounding, and he’s so frozen that he doesn’t even flinch when clawed fingers take one of the bottles from him.

“This one looks good,” Jungkook purrs. “Put the other one back.” 

Jimin does as he’s told, his hands shaking, the heavy weight of the other’s arm on his shoulders causing cold sweat to form in his nape. He doesn’t dare to turn. 

“Now get your basket and move. And don’t make a fuss or I’ll kill every single person here. Starting with that cute cashier.” 

Jimin feels sick, his grip on the handle clammy as he’s led to the register. 

“Hi,” the girl behind the counter says without looking up from her phone, chewing her gum loudly. She’s young, probably in her first year of college. 

“Hi,” Jungkook replies, sounding almost bored. Jimin’s voice doesn’t seem to work at all, his throat too tight, his lips too numb. So he stays silent. 

When the girl lifts her head, the moment her eyes land on Jungkook, her mouth falls open, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks.

“Hi,” she breathes. “I mean–” She laughs awkwardly. “I already said that—” 

Jungkook doesn’t react, just slides his hand from Jimin’s shoulder to his back, pushing him towards the conveyor belt where Jimin is barely able to shake himself out of his stupor. Slowly, he starts putting his stuff on, item by item, not able to stop his fingers from trembling. All the while, Jungkook’s hand doesn’t leave him, staying firmly planted on the small of his back. 

Jimin can’t blame the girl. 

Jungkook looks good. And intimidating. 

He’s as tall as ever, wearing all black, his black shirt tucked into the waistband of his black jeans, the short sleeves hugging his muscles tightly and showing off the tattoos on his arm, the hand that’s not on Jimin’s back casually disappearing in the pocket of his pants. His long hair is partially tied up while the rest drapes over his shoulders in dark silky strands, multiple silver earrings dangling from his ears. Even though they’re inside, he’s wearing dark tinted sunglasses, most likely to hide his eyes, which would definitely stand out a lot more than the tips of those fangs peeking out from below his upper lip. 

Said lip curls into a small grin when he catches Jimin staring. 

“Come on, babe. Let’s pay for this and hurry, we’re already late.” 

Jimin swallows drily and wonders if Jungkook simply said that to get him to move faster without causing suspicion, or if he really knows that Jimin is late for his cooking date with Namjoon. The latter would be very unsettling. 

He just nods, dizzy and a bit like in trance as he pays for his stuff with his card while the cashier packs the groceries into a brown paper bag.

“I hope this is okay, it’s probably a bit heavy,” she says as she pushes it towards them.

“I can carry it for him if his arms get tired. Right, sweetheart?” 

“Right,” Jimin mumbles and throws the cashier a hopefully convincing smile. 

When they exit the store, Jungkook drapes his arm over Jimin’s shoulder again, pulling him closer. 

“Don’t even think about running,” he murmurs as they make their way down the street.

Jimin hugs the heavy paper bag to his chest and just nods faintly. Of course he’s not gonna run. Running would be pointless anyway. 

From the outside they must look nonchalant, like a couple walking down the street, one with his arm around the other while the other is carrying a bag of groceries. From the outside everything must look normal, everything must look calm. On the inside however, Jimin is filled with a raging storm, a mix of panic and fear and a thundering heart, making it hard to breathe, hard to form clear thoughts.

What will Jungkook do to him? Where are they going? 

Is he going to die today?

He feels nauseous and dizzy, his knees weak.

“You’re scared.” 

Jimin doesn’t miss the satisfied tone that laces the words. 

Mask your fear. Don’t show weakness, a voice inside his head says. A voice that he hasn’t heard in a long time. But this time, there is no point in denying.

“Yes,” he whispers truthfully. 

The other chuckles. “Don’t be. Here’s what’s gonna happen: You will take me to your scientist friend without causing any commotion and I will let you live. Sound good?” 

Jimin’s throat goes dry. 

“Namjoon?” 

Jungkook makes an affirmative sound, pulling Jimin closer by his shoulder when they pass a small restaurant with people sitting outside. Heads turn to look at them but Jimin knows it’s not because someone can tell what’s going on, it’s simply because of Jungkook standing out.

What does he want with Joon? Does he want to take revenge? 

Shit— Jimin bites his lower lip. He can’t just lead Jungkook there and put Namjoon in danger, he has to think of something. Maybe he can buy some time by leading Jungkook somewhere else? Maybe he can try to get his phone from his pocket and send Joon a text to warn him? He has to tell him to leave asap, to pack his stuff and run.

His eyes find one of the side streets they are approaching. Taking a turn here would lead them farther away from their apartment complex. 

He takes a small step to the side, causing Jungkook’s hold on him to tighten. 

“I know where you all live, Jimin,” Jungkook sounds unfazed but the claws digging into Jimin’s shoulder tell a different story. “I know you live in the same building. You, the scientist, and that one security guy. I know you live a couple floors below them. Apartment 20, is that right? And they are— apartment 49, I think?” 

Jimin’s stomach drops, cold shackles of panic clutching him tighter. How does Jungkook know all that? 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about how to get out of this. Just be good and do as you’re told.”

“What do you want with him?” Jimin asks, unable to suppress the tremor in his voice. “If you hurt him-”

“Then what, Jiminie?” 

Jimin’s jaw clenches. Yeah, that’s a good question. What could he even do? 

“He— He had nothing to do with it,” he tries. “It was all my father, Namjoon was just following his orders! He didn’t even want to, but he had no chance, he-”

“Save it. I don’t care.” Jungkook looks straight ahead, his demeanor relaxed. “Just take me to him.” 

“If you already know where he lives, why do you need me to take you?” 

Jungkook flashes him a smile. 

“Well, because surely he wouldn’t be very cooperative if it was just me in front of his door now, would he?” 

Jimin’s heart has been racing for so long that he’s legitimately dizzy when they arrive at the apartment building. It’s thundering wildly inside his ribcage and he almost thinks he can hear the beat of it thumping against the rustling paper bag that he’s still pressing to his chest. 

It's weird. Seeing Jungkook here, his presence inside this space, his presence inside this— this life. Like two worlds clashing. 

It’s like his past is invading his present, ready to tear it apart.

They make their way into the building and up the stairs, the only noise around them their footsteps as they walk down the corridor to Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s apartment. 

When they come to a halt in front of it Jungkook pulls him even closer, his arm now bent in a way that it’s half-wrapped around Jimin’s neck, putting slight pressure on his jugular. Jimin jumps when Jungkook brings his other hand up too, one sharp claw pressing against the pulse point on the other side of his neck.

“Come on, ring the bell,” Jungkook murmurs right next to his ear. 

Jimin feels sick.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt him,” he whispers. 

“Ring the bell, Jimin.” The claw pushes a little harder in warning. 

Jimin’s hand is sweaty when he peels it off the paper bag and reaches out, pushing the small button. The faint ring of the bell on the other side of the door makes him feel sick. He hopes for a miracle, hopes that Namjoon isn’t home for some reason, hopes for something—

His stomach drops when there is the click of a lock turning.

“That was not just 30 minutes,” Namjoon laughs as he pulls the door open.

Only a heartbeat later his expression falls, horror washing over his face as all color drains from it, his eyes growing wide. 

Jimin can tell that there is a brief moment, merely half a second, where he wants to throw the door shut, where his instincts kick in and he wants to protect himself from the danger in front of him. It’s apparent in the jolt that goes through his body, in the way he pushes against the door, only to bring his other hand up to hold onto it, as if he wants to keep it from moving or himself from losing balance. His gaze flies to Jungkook’s hand on Jimin’s throat and Jimin can see his mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out. 

“Hi there,” Jungkook says, the words dripping with fake politeness. “Don’t wanna invite us in?” 

Namjoon’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows and for a moment Jimin legitimately thinks he's about to throw up. That would make them two.

Seconds tick by before Namjoon eventually shakes himself out of it.

“Come in,” he croaks, taking a step to the side. 

The bag of groceries is heavy on Jimin’s lap, the paper crinkling in the hold of his damp fingers, the bottle of sesame oil at the very bottom digging into his thigh. He hasn’t dared to move to put the bag down ever since the three of them have taken a seat in Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s living room. He’s overly aware of Jungkook’s presence right next to him, overly aware of his arm behind him on the backrest of the couch. Namjoon is sitting in one of the armchairs across from them, rigid, his back straight, his fingers digging into the armrests. 

The heavy tension in the room makes it hard to breathe. Only Jungkook seems relaxed, with his legs crossed, his foot whipping up and down lazily, his arms sprawled along the backrest of the couch. From the corner of his eyes Jimin can see that he has taken off his sunglasses, which are now resting on top of his head, his emerald gaze traveling around the room curiously, taking everything in. 

It’s painfully silent, both Namjoon and Jimin not daring to move, let alone speak up. Jimin can tell his friend is feeling just as sick as he does. 

Even trapped in his human form, Jungkook is a ruthless killer. A ruthless killer they’ve been in the same room with countless of times, only this time there is no armored glass separating them, no safety precautions in place, no tranquilizers around. 

“Nice.” Jimin jumps at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, who turns to look at Namjoon. “Been living a cozy life, haven’t you?” 

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I guess so,” he rasps. 

“You guess so,” Jungkook repeats and Jimin doesn’t dare to move to look directly at him but he can hear the sarcastic smile in his voice. “Certainly better than the life I have been living.” 

The tension in the atmosphere pulls even tighter at his words. 

They never talked about it.

Jimin always thought of it as a safety precaution. Distancing themselves as much as possible from their secret past so they won’t accidentally let anything slip in front of people, to the point where they wouldn’t even talk about it when it was just the three of them, not even in the comfort of their own homes. 

But maybe it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was a bit of guilt too. The kind of guilt that is now painting the air with a bitter taste, an uncomfortable feeling that’s creeping into every cell of Jimin’s body. 

Even though they never talked about it, he’s sure Namjoon and Yoongi too have been asking themselves what ended up happening to the creatures. In the beginning, no night went by in which Jimin didn’t think about Jungkook, in which he didn’t cry tears of guilt, asking himself what happened to Kalliope or Pearl…  

Not even time let him forget. It just got easier to ignore the bitter shame. 

Jungkook chuckles next to him, a deep sound that slithers over Jimin’s skin like ice. 

“Don’t wanna ask me what I’ve been up to?” The dragon asks. “How rude.” 

Namjoon’s fingertips are white where they dig into the cushioned armrests of his chair, his lips forming a thin line. It takes a moment for him to open his mouth. 

“Why are you here?”

His voice is hard but there is an underlying tremor that exposes the fear that’s also apparent in his rigid posture and the strain in his jaw. 

For an awfully long time, Jungkook doesn’t say anything and Jimin jerks when he slides his arm from the backrest behind him to lean forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“Just catching up,” he says, his lips curling into a grin as he turns his head slightly to look at Jimin out of the corner of his eye, his slit pupils contracting. “I missed you.” 

A heated shiver runs down his spine. He hugs the paper bag closer. 

Jungkook’s gaze drops to the movement and he frowns.

“Why are you still holding this?” 

Jimin looks down at the bag and swallows dryly. “Well— uh—” 

The other lifts an eyebrow and Jimin grinds his teeth, forcing himself to answer.

“I don't know,” he mumbles. 

Jungkook snorts. “Just put it on the ground.” 

It takes a moment for Jimin to be able to unlock his muscles and move, placing the paper bag down on the ground next to his leg. When he straightens up again, putting his now empty hands in his lap awkwardly, there is an amused smile playing on Jungkook’s lips.

“What’s the matter with you, Jiminie?” He asks. “I don’t remember you being this shy.” 

Heat surges into Jimin’s cheeks, his fingers growing numb as he glances at Namjoon, hoping to God that the other would mistake Jungkook’s statement for nothing more than the usual teasing they all grew accustomed to back then. Jimin would literally die of embarrassment if Namjoon knew of the thing he had for Jungkook at the time.

Even now— 

Even now his presence is making Jimin’s stomach churn not only in fear. Even now the way his lizard eyes travel up and down his body is sending shivers down Jimin’s spine that are not all that uncomfortable. Even now he can’t stop noticing how handsome Jungkook looks. Being this close to him – with nothing in between them to separate them – feeling the heat of that body containing dragon fire, is making his heart race not only in terror. 

Thankfully, Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil, or the true meaning behind Jungkook’s jab for that matter. His lips are pressed into a thin line, not even once has he taken his eyes off the dragon next to Jimin.

“Why are you here?” He asks again. “Are you here to kill us?”

“Hm—” Jungkook makes a contemplating sound, before leaning back, his arm finding the backrest behind Jimin again. “That depends.” 

The sudden sensation of claws in his nape have Jimin jump and then freeze, his heart surging into his throat. His sight goes a little blurry and he doesn’t dare to move, goosebumps spreading down his shoulders and back as the sharp tips of Jungkook’s fingers travel up the back of his neck and into the base of his hair before wandering down again. The movements are almost gentle but there is something menacing to them, something threatening. 

Namjoon’s eyes follow the movements of Jungkook’s hand disappearing behind Jimin’s neck, a muscle in his jaw twitching nervously. 

“Depends on what?” 

“On how cooperative you are, Mr. Scientist.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you.” Jungkook’s fingers leave Jimin’s nape, being replaced by a heavy arm that yanks Jimin closer until he crashes into Jungkook’s side, who keeps him there in a heavy lock. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to dear Jiminie here, would you?” 

Namjoon’s eyes narrow before he slowly shakes his head. “No.”

Jungkook grins. “Of course not.” He turns his head, his breath hot in Jimin’s hair. “Would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” 

Jimin bites his tongue, his face growing even hotter.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” Namjoon asks. 

There is a short pause where Jungkook sits up straight, his body moving against Jimin’s in the process. Suddenly he seems tense, his grip around Jimin’s shoulder tighter.

“I want you to get rid of these fucking suppressants in my blood.” 

Surprise floods Jimin. 

Somehow, that's not what he expected.

He has thought about it though. About the fact that all those creatures that got taken, and also Jungkook, still had suppressants in their blood. After they left that place, he couldn’t stop wondering if maybe Pearl, who hadn’t finished getting her suppressant-treatment yet, might’ve been able to break free. She wasn’t fully tamed, there was still at least some kind of power inside her the last time Jimin saw her— But aside from her and Jungkook the other creatures were completely gone. 

It was something his father was very proud of. He called it a ‘service’ and mentioned it at every other exclusive dinner they held at their house. That the creatures were fully tamed and that no follow-up treatment was necessary. The buyers didn’t have to worry about a thing. 

Once the treatment was completed, there was no-

Jimin’s heart sinks.

There was no way back.

Whatever is going on in Jungkook’s blood, whatever is suppressing parts of his powers—There's no way of getting rid of it.

The faint tick of the clock on the wall in the kitchen is the only noise for a while and he watches as Namjoon’s frowning expression briefly relaxes before worry flickers across his face.

“That’s—” Namjoon meets Jimin’s eyes for a second, who is most likely mirroring his concerned expression, before he looks at Jungkook again. “That’s impossible.” 

Jungkook’s hand turns into a vise on Jimin’s shoulder.

“And why is that,” he growls and from the way Namjoon flinches back in his chair, Jimin can only imagine how dangerous the dragon must look right now. 

“Because—” Namjoon’s eyes flicker to the hand on Jimin’s shoulder before he goes on nervously. “Because there’s no antidote or—or treatment.”

“Then make one.” 

“That’s-”

“Impossible?” Jungkook interrupts him, his claws digging into Jimin’s skin. “Think again.” 

The look of concern in Namjoon’s face turns into raw panic and he sits up straighter when Jimin hisses at the sharp pain of the piercing claws. 

“I d-don’t know how! I don’t have access to any equipment, nor materials– even if I had— it would take months– maybe even years of testing and developing-”

Jungkook scoffs. “I have time.”

Namjoon’s eyes flick back and forth between Jimin’s shoulder, which Jimin is sure is bleeding by now, and Jungkook’s face. Jimin grinds his teeth against the pain. 

“You’re hurting me,” he grits out in a weak attempt to get Jungkook to let go of him. 

To his surprise, the other does take his hand off, but only to stand up, tall and intimidating, stalking around the coffee table towards Namjoon, who sinks deeper and deeper into his chair. 

Jimin jumps to his feet. “Don't-” 

Jungkook shoots him a look, his eyes flashing dangerously. 

“Shut up,” he growls, the sound overpowering and loud, making Jimin snap his mouth shut immediately. “Sit down.” Jimin sinks back onto the couch, watching as Jungkook turns to look at Namjoon again. 

 “Let’s make this clear, scientist—" Jungkook steps closer until he’s so close that he can lean down and put his hands on the armrests of Namjoon’s chair. Namjoon stares up at him, eyes wide, his lips so pale they look almost white. 

“I will not leave until you’ve gotten rid of that shit in my body. I don’t care how you do it, I don’t care how long it takes, but you will do it. If you don’t, I’m going to kill everyone you’ve ever loved, starting with him.” 

He jerks his head at Jimin without taking his eyes off Namjoon. 

Namjoon’s next words are laced with the tone of desperation.

“B-But I don’t even have a lab!” 

“That’s not my problem.”

“I don’t have the money!”

“That’s not my problem either.” 

Namjoon looks like he’s about to hyperventilate.

“I have the money.” 

They both turn to look at Jimin, whose heart is thundering in his throat. 

“I mean— it should be enough to rent out a place, right?” 

Namjoon swallows visibly. “M-Maybe but I’d need a license to start a medical lab. Those are expensive too and-”

“How much are we talking about in total?” 

Namjoon shakes his head, looking completely lost. “I have no idea.” 

“But— hypothetically—with the right equipment, with enough money and time—Would it be possible?” 

Namjoon swallows visibly, sending Jungkook a careful glance before answering Jimin’s question.

“It wouldn’t be impossible but I can’t say for sure.” 

Jimin nods before his eyes find Jungkook’s again, who is standing tall now, his arms crossed. 

“We’ll look into it,” he tries. “Maybe we can do something, okay?” 

Jungkook scoffs. “Not good enough.” 

Jimin grinds his teeth. “That’s all we can offer for now. We need to do some research first. Stuff like that is not as easy as you think-”

“You know what’s not easy, Jimin?” The other interrupts him, sounding nonchalant but there is a dangerous flash in his eyes, the muscles in his crossed arms flexing. “Not slicing your fucking throat open right now.” 

Namjoon tenses in his chair.

“You will make this happen,” Jungkook goes on, smiling sweetly. “Or I’ll kill you all.” 

Jimin lifts his chin, wills the tremble in his fingers down, gathering all his courage to ask what he’s about to. 

“How do we know you’re not going to kill us anyway?” 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?” 

“Once you’re back to your full power— if we manage to clear your body from the suppressants— would we be safe? Or would you hurt us? You’re a Zelkath, aren’t you?”

“I see you did your research.” 

“The offspring of two tribe leaders, more powerful than any normal dragon.” Jimin swallows nervously. “How do we know you wouldn’t kill us anyway, once you got what you wanted?”

Jungkook is clearly unhappy with how Jimin is talking to him so flippantly but he answers nonetheless. 

“You just have to trust me, I guess.”

Jimin snorts, surprising himself with the sound. “Not good enough,” he mimics Jungkook’s words.

“Jimin-,” Namjoon warns, but Jungkook is already right in front of him, moving so fast that Jimin only has time to blink once before a hand wraps around his throat and pushes him back into the couch. 

“I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate,” Jungkook growls, his canines flashing. 

Jimin ignores the violent beating of his heart, swallowing against the hold on his throat. 

“Oh, but I think I am.” He fights to hold eye contact with that predatory gaze staring down at him. “It’s my money we need. And I don’t care if I die, so you can’t threaten me with that.”

“Then I will kill him,” Jungkook hisses, jerking his chin at Namjoon. 

“But you need him for creating the treatment.” 

A furious look crosses Jungkook’s face and he leans in closer. 

“And what about that tiny security guard?”

Jimin’s heart sinks and Namjoon jumps up from his chair but a warning growl from Jungkook makes him sink down again.

“What about him, Jimin?” The hold on his throat squeezes harder. “What about that cute nerdy girl you work with at that café?” 

Jimin feels sick.

“Viv has nothing to do with this.” 

Jungkook scoffs. “She’s human. That’s enough.” His eyes travel over Jimin’s face, his next words dripping with disdain. “You lot love playing the victim. ‘Don’t hurt him’ here, ‘She has nothing to do with it’ there—” He leans even closer, their noses almost touching, and from the corner of his eyes Jimin can see Namjoon going rigid in his chair. “Guess what, Jimin. I don’t fucking care. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” The grip around his throat tightens and Jimin’s head goes all light from the lack of air. “What I’m still going through.” 

With one single painful squeeze Jungkook releases his throat and stands up tall. 

“Your fucking suppressants—” He growls, fury flashing in his eyes, the unsettling atmosphere growing heavy with the fear he’s evoking as he turns to address Namjoon again. “They ruined everything. I can’t even go back to my tribe like this.” 

“B-But you’re a Zelkath. Their leader,” Namjoon croaks. “I-I’m sure they would take you back even without being fully dragon.”

They all know it was the wrong thing to say. 

The roar that’s splitting through the air rattles Jimin’s entire body, followed by the deafening sound of Yoongi’s favorite vase shattering on the floor when Jungkook grabs it from the coffee table and hurls it to the ground, the shards flying everywhere, and Jimin briefly turns his head and squeezes his eyes shut to protect himself from the tiny razor-sharp missiles. 

“They fucking can’t,” Jungkook hisses, his eyes flashing dangerously, his cheeks red in anger. “Because I can’t fucking find them like this!” He yanks on his own collar as if it’s suffocating him. “With this useless weak body and those squashed instincts, I don’t even know where to go!” 

His breathing is heavier now and for a moment it’s the only sound in the room. Jimin’s eyes are probably just as wide as Namjoon’s as they stare at the other, hearts beating furiously. 

Why? What does that mean? How?

He doesn’t dare to let the questions slip past his lips and thankfully Jungkook goes on anyway. 

“I can’t find my way back.” His voice is a little calmer now but it’s clearly a great effort for him to keep it that way. “I’m not able to sense magic anymore. I can’t sense them. And they can’t sense me. We can’t communicate. I’ve been wandering the woods all across the country for months trying to find something, to feel something, something that tells me where to go, something to show them I’m alive and have them find me.” His hands are trembling, his fingers flexing as he takes a step forward. Namjoon sinks deeper into his chair in an attempt to back away from him. “My instincts, my powers, my magic, everything has been destroyed by that disgusting stuff you forced into my veins over and over and over again–” The look in his eyes is wild. “Day after day, night after night, drugging me, making me go through hell and back. And now I’m not able to find my own fucking home anymore.” 

Guilt makes Jimin feel sick to his stomach, the bitter taste of it spreading in the back of his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon whispers. “I never wanted that.” 

The words make Jungkook’s face twist. “Fucking shut up.” 

“It’s true,” Jimin intervenes from his spot on the couch, his voice wavering. “Neither he nor I wanted-” 

“Shut up!”

Jungkook hurls around to look at him. 

“I don’t give a shit about what you wanted or not, I don’t give a shit about your fucking apologies, and I also don’t give a shit about your pathetic friends’ lives,” he spits. “You humans are all the same to me. So tell me again, Jimin, how you’re in a position to negotiate with me, because I will make your entire existence hell if you don’t help me.” 

Jimin was just about to open his mouth again but at the sound of that particular word he falters.

Help.

He blinks.

This is the first time Jungkook has used that expression but that’s ultimately what it is, isn’t it?

Jungkook needs help.

Jimin stares at him, at the way he stands there with his trembling hands, with that furious flush in his cheeks and that murderous look in his eyes. A murderous look that seems to weaken the longer Jimin stares, slowly crumbling like a brittle wall that’s hiding an entirely different mix of emotions. Hopelessness. Exhaustion. Fear. Maybe even panic. 

Jungkook is scared. And he’s asking them for help. 

And don’t they owe him this? 

Isn’t it their duty, after all they’ve done, to help him? 

When Jimin and Namjoon share a look Jimin can immediately tell that the other is riding the exact same train of thoughts. 

They should help. They want to help. 

But still— it wouldn't be easy. And it would be such a risk. They would be risking their lives. 

Nobody can really guarantee that Jungkook wouldn't turn on them if they are able to bring him back to his full form. Then again— It sounds like Jungkook would hurt them anyway, sooner or later, if they don’t help him. 

“If we really attempt this— I want you to understand that there is no guarantee that it would work. And it would take a while,” Namjoon’s voice is merely a whisper. “I have no idea how long. I don’t know how long it takes to get a license, or how long it takes to get a facility, how long it takes to get all the components needed and then how long it takes to create an actual antidote that works.” He lifts his gaze to look at Jungkook. “It would need your patience. A lot of patience. And it would need your cooperation. I’d have to take blood samples from you all the time, I’d have to test formulas on you—” A muscle in Jungkook’s jaw twitches when he seems to understand. “I’d have to inject you again for testing purposes.” Namjoon swallows visibly. “Over and over again— Until we get it right.” 

Jimin jumps in his seat when Jungkook slumps down next to him. He looks exhausted.

“So, what you’re saying is—  I have to trust you not to inject me with something that might kill me, just as much as you have to trust me that I won’t kill you when I get back to my full form.”

It’s more of a statement than a question.

“If you get back to your full form.” Namjoon nods. “Precisely.” 

Jungkook throws him a look. “When. Don’t forget what’s at stake for you.”

They stare at each other in tense silence but Jimin can’t help but think that the atmosphere has eased up a little. The tension is still there but also an overall sense of reluctant relief.

Jungkook is the first to speak up again.

“Well. Fine with me. As I said, I have time. And I’m almost completely sure you’re not stupid enough to try anything that could get everyone killed.” 

He shoots Namjoon a warning glare.

“And since you need me around for your little testing stuff, I’ll stay at Jiminie's place.” Jimin squirms in his seat when Jungkook’s eyes meet his. Suddenly the tiredness in Jungkook’s expression seems to be all gone, a small grin forming on his lips as he goes on without taking his eyes off him. “That shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“It’s a huge problem,” Namjoon grits out between clenched teeth. “You’re gonna stay away from him.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “No can do, Mr. Scientist. I already made up my mind. I’m gonna stay with Jimin, you will work diligently and hard on that antidote and once I’m back to my old self, I’ll leave and you all can live happily ever after.” 

“No, that’s not gonna work, you can’t stay with him.” 

Jungkook growls and sits up tall, the tension in the air growing thicker again.

“I can and I will. Now stop complaining. The quicker you get me that antidote the earlier I’ll leave you all alone. Simple.”

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, trying to find Namjoon’s eyes, which are fixated on Jungkook with a furious glint in them. “I can take care of myself, Joon.” 

The other slowly turns his head to look at him, his gaze staying locked with Jungkook’s warningly till the very last moment. 

“You know what he’s capable of, Jimin.”

“I know,” Jimin throws Jungkook a glance. “And as long as he needs us to fix him, he won’t lay a finger on us.” The small amused smile on Jungkook’s lips makes his toes curl. “Right?”

Jungkook lifts an eyebrow. “Right.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something else but before he can do so, the sound of the front door opening makes them look up.

“I’m home!” Yoongi’s voice reaches them from the hallway, followed by the sound of the front door falling shut again and shoes being kicked off. Then his footsteps come closer. “It’s finally done! The album is submitted and now I can-”

The moment he appears on the threshold of the living room he freezes. The smile slips from his face just as fast as the bottle he’s been holding slips from his hand, shattering loudly on the floor, the contents forming a puddle which spreads rapidly, the liquid seeping into the fabric of his gray socks. Only a second later the room starts smelling of alcohol.

“Damn. You wasted some pretty good champagne there,” Jungkook drawls, slouching back on the couch. “Speaking of, why haven’t I been offered anything to drink yet? Isn’t that human custom when somebody visits your home?” 

It’s late at night when Jimin and Jungkook leave Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s place. 

Neither Namjoon nor Yoongi are happy with the situation, especially not with Jungkook staying at Jimin’s, but no arguing and no threatening helps. 

“I want you to give me a call every single day at 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.,” Namjoon mumbles during a short moment of privacy, where they are alone in the kitchen, Yoongi and Jungkook arguing over how much time is an appropriate amount of time for one of Yoongi’s ‘guys’ to organize a license and a facility for them. For some reason, Yoongi has a guy for everything. Everything illegal of course. The license will be fake and the equipment in their future lab most likely not certified, but at least this will speed up the process tremendously. 

“We can’t just threaten people to work faster if they’re doing us a favor,” Jimin hears Yoongi say in the living room. “We gotta be grateful that he’s doing stuff like that for us to begin with.” 

There is a scoff and a low dissatisfied growl but at least Jungkook doesn’t argue further.

“Okay,” Jimin nods at Namjoon’s request. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” 

There is the hard look of concern in the other’s eyes, his lips forming a thin line. 

“I’ll be fine, Joon. I promise.” 

“How can you promise something like that when it’s not even in your hands?” 

Jimin drops his gaze and shrugs. Obviously he’s not happy with the situation either but deep inside he knows that he has to do this. They have to do this. They have to help Jungkook and he’ll do whatever he can to keep Namjoon and Yoongi safe in the process.  

Namjoon sighs and drops his voice to a low whisper. 

“We’ll try to get you tranquilizers. Some of the hard stuff. So you can sedate him if he attacks you.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jimin mumbles.

“It would make me sleep easier if you had them.” 

“What if he finds them?”

At that Namjoon freezes. Then he rubs his face in exhaustion. “Fuck—” He runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, can you at least promise me not to take the poison while he’s with you? You’re always a bit out of it when you do and I don’t feel comfortable with the thought of him being around you when you’re like that.” 

Jimin worries his lower lip, shame making his nape feel hot. 

“I’m decreasing the dosage these days because—” He trails off. Because otherwise I’d have it all used up in a couple of months, he finishes the statement in his head, not wanting to admit how much he’s dreading the day it’s all gone. “I’m not as out of it anymore. Also, going into withdrawals now wouldn’t help either—” 

Shame makes his stomach churn when Namjoon just sighs, a disappointed look crossing his face. He knows though, that there is no arguing with Jimin about this. They’ve talked about this before. Countless times. 

“You’re right—Please be careful though.” 

“Of course.” 

When Jimin and Jungkook make their way out the front door a few minutes later, Jungkook drapes his arm over Jimin’s shoulders again with a satisfied grin. 

“Well, this was nice. We made quite a lot of progress, didn’t we? And it’s only the first day.”

Yoongi grits his teeth, his eyes fixated on Jungkook’s arm on Jimin’s shoulder. 

“If you hurt him, I’ll-”

“You’ll kill me, yes, I know.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You mentioned that before. Several times.” 

“Call us before you go to sleep tonight, Jimin, and right away when you wake up tomorrow,” Namjoon says, voice laced with concern. 

Jimin smiles. “I will.”

“And if anything happens-”

Jungkook groans. “He’ll be fine, man, calm the fuck down.” 

Namjoon takes a deep breath before looking at him intently.

“Don’t hurt him—” He whispers. “Please.” 

“I’m a man of my word. As long as you do as I say and work on the antidote, I won’t hurt him.” 

Namjoon nods, throwing Jimin another worried look and a small smile before closing the door slowly. 

Jungkook’s arm is heavy on Jimin’s shoulder as he leads him down the corridor towards the stairs and Jimin’s heart almost tumbles out of his chest when the other leans in to press his lips to his ear. 

“Unless he wants me to.” 

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat, a hot flush spreading in his cheeks, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

“Stop that,” he hisses. “I know what you’re doing.” 

Jungkook makes a sound of feigned interest. “And what is that?” 

Jimin grinds his teeth and wiggles his shoulders to shake off the other’s arm. 

“Just stop it.” 

To his surprise, Jungkook pulls back and takes a step to the side, bringing some distance between them as they keep descending the stairs. 

“As you wish.” 

Jimin’s fingers are trembling when they arrive at his front door and he fumbles with his keys to unlock it, flipping on the lights in the hallway as they step inside.

“Take your shoes off,” he mumbles, feeling stupid for doing so. Dirty floors are by far the least of his concerns right now. 

He watches as Jungkook does as he’s told and then he’s at a loss what to do next when the other straightens and looks at him expectantly. Jimin’s hallway isn’t necessarily small, but still it feels like Jungkook fills it with his presence entirely. It’s overwhelming and intimidating. 

Jimin wipes his damp palms on his pants before crossing his arms and lifting his chin.

“We need rules if you want to stay here.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

Jimin falters. 

He has no idea. He’s hungry, he’s tired, he’s exhausted— He can’t think. All he wants to do is eat something and then go to bed but with Jungkook being here both options lose pretty much all their appeal. 

Suddenly, seeing the other inside his apartment like this, the realization seeps in that, from now on, he probably won’t get a proper night's sleep for a very long time. How can you sleep peacefully with a predator in your home? A predator with razor sharp claws and teeth, with eyes that can see a lot better than those of any human, with hearing that’s superior to that of even cats and dogs, with a sense of smell that’s so strong that he has probably long started smelling the fear that makes Jimin’s stomach all queasy. 

The longer they are standing there, the worse it gets. Suddenly, Jimin’s fingertips feel cold, suddenly, he feels pinned down by those emerald eyes. 

Mask your fear. Don’t show weakness. He'll use it against you.

Jimin tries to keep his breathing even, tries to ground himself by focusing on the feeling of the wooden floor beneath his feet.

“Rule number one,” he starts, surprising himself how normal and collected he sounds. “You’re not allowed in my bedroom.” 

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch in amusement. “That’s a pity.” 

Jimin glares at him. If he hadn’t seen Jungkook’s outbursts earlier, if he hadn’t seen him desperately asking for help in his own prideful way, he would think this is all a joke to him. With how he looks Jimin up and down now, with his suggestive smile and the hint of something challenging in his eyes.

It’s how he’s always been. Their interactions have always been a weird mix of threats and flirting on Jungkook’s part, forcing Jimin to switch to survival mode every single time for two entirely different reasons. 

Jimin has always been attracted to him, even though it was so wrong on so many levels. And Jimin was always glad that there was an indestructible barrier between them, that he could go to bed after his shift and pretend nothing was happening, that he could let his poison knock him out and make him momentarily forget about the cruelty that was going on in that basement as well as the fact that he, technically one of the captors, had the hots for one of their prisoners. The most dangerous one at that. 

Now there is no barrier between them. No end of shift to give him a break from Jungkook and this dangerous attraction he has for him. 

He startles when Jungkook takes a step in, the way he’s looking down at him suddenly a lot more intense, his presence overwhelming, the grin on his lips knowing. 

He knows Jimin wants him. And he knows that Jimin knows it too. 

They both know it. 

They both know that, now that they met again with no barrier between them, now that Jungkook is staying here with Jimin, it will happen. 

Sooner or later Jimin’s resolve will break and it will happen.  

Jimin feels dizzy at the thought. 

“I’ll have to think about the other rules tomorrow,” he mumbles. “I’m tired. Gonna go to bed now.” 

He turns around on his heels, making his way to his bedroom with quick steps, fleeing like a scared little animal. 

He supposes in this case that’s literally what he is. 

“Wait, what about me? Where do I sleep?” Jungkook asks behind him.

“I don’t care.”

Jimin quickens his steps and without another glance at Jungkook he hurries into his bedroom and slams the door shut. Immediately, he turns the lock twice before taking a couple of steps back. 

Then he just stands there, in the darkness, the room only illuminated by the dim cold light of the moon falling through the window, and listens, not daring to move.

First, there is only silence.

Then he can hear the faint creaking of the floor as Jungkook slowly seems to make his way down the hallway, apparently into the living room. It’s silent for another moment, before the muffled sound of the TV reaches Jimin.

Jimin scoffs. 

That guy— He shakes his head. Making himself right at home.

With a sigh he pulls out his phone, shooting Namjoon a text that he’s safe and in his room now, about to go to bed. Yes, he’s locked the door. Yes, he’s really fine. Yes, he still thinks they should help Jungkook.

After that, he mixes a couple of drops of poison with the last remnants of water in the bottle beside his bed. He’d love to take a shower, but there is no way he’s gonna leave this room again tonight. He’s too tired anyway. 

With a groan he collapses on his bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. 

The remnants of the poison taste especially sickly sweet when you haven’t had the chance to sleep it off. 

Jimin didn’t sleep a wink, too nervous, too on edge, the amount of poison he takes these days not enough anymore that it would lull him fully to sleep. He misses it sometimes. The feeling of just being pulled under, being completely numb to the world. At least the nightmares aren’t as bad anymore either. 

Around 6 a.m., the sun not even peeking over the horizon yet, he gives up and drags himself out of bed, still wearing the clothes from the day before, feeling like he’s been hit by a truck, with a pounding headache and swollen eyes. 

Slowly and as quietly as possible he makes his way to the door.

He’s been staring at it in the pale moonlight for almost the entire night, his eyes fixated on the door handle, his ears listening intently for any noises in the apartment, the poison making him see and hear things that weren’t there, keeping his heart rate at an all time high, his imagination running wild with images of Jungkook coming in, of Jungkook holding him down, of Jungkook killing him. And then the images shifted until Jungkook was holding him down in entirely different ways, doing— different things to him. 

Jimin puts his forehead against the cool wood, closing his burning eyes. 

This is fucked up. 

He takes a deep breath before pressing his ear against the door to try and make out any possible noises in the apartment. 

At some point during the night, Jungkook had turned off the TV and – as Jimin assumed – gone to sleep on the couch. Jimin knows Jungkook doesn’t need as much sleep as humans but he’s not sure how much exactly. Back then, he never had the morning shifts to witness him waking up. 

Right now, he can’t hear a thing. Maybe the other is still sleeping. Jimin wants to take a shower and he really has to pee. Maybe he can make it down the hallway and to the bathroom without waking him up. To get there he does have to walk past the living room door, but if he’s quick, if he can just turn the lock of the bathroom in time before Jungkook wakes-

“I can hear you thinking in there.”

Jimin yelps and jumps back from the door, stumbling over his own feet in the process, landing ungracefully on his butt. 

“Come out and make me breakfast.” Jungkook’s voice sounds muffled through the wood. “I’m hungry.”  

“God,” Jimin gasps, grabbing the front of his shirt where his heart is pounding wildly. That definitely woke him up. 

“Not God, just me.”

Jimin can basically hear the grin in his voice. 

He pushes himself to his feet, his heart still racing as he turns the lock with cold fingertips, taking a deep breath before pulling the door open. 

Jungkook is looking down at him, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his hair falling in long waves over his shoulders, the slightly disheveled state of it indicating that he has indeed slept. Just like Jimin he’s wearing the same clothes as the day before. 

He’s standing so close in front of Jimin’s door, his presence so overwhelming, that an instant urge to slam the door shut again makes Jimin’s fingers twitch.

“You’re too close.”

Jungkook snorts but uncrosses his arms and takes a step back into the hallway.

“Better?”

“Barely,” Jimin mumbles, before squeezing himself out the door and pulling it shut behind him, making an effort that Jungkook doesn’t get a glimpse inside. It’s not that he’s hiding anything, it’s just a matter of principle.

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook repeats while Jimin presses himself against the wood in his back, his eyes finding the open bathroom door. 

“I heard you,” he said, his gaze snapping back to Jungkook. “You can take whatever you want from the fridge.” 

Jungkook looks unamused. “Your fridge is literally empty.” 

Oh. Right.

“Let me take a shower, then I’ll get you something to eat,” Jimin says, shuffling towards the bathroom.

“Oh,” Jungkook says, following behind him. “Can I join?” 

“No.” 

“Pity, but that’s another thing. I need clothes.”

Jimin stops in his tracks to turn and look at him. “Don’t you have any— stuff?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “Not really.”

“Where do these clothes come from?” He points at the other’s attire.

“Took them from a guy.” 

Jimin blinks. “You took- You know what, I don’t wanna know.” He turns around to continue his way towards the bathroom. “Namjoon might have some things that fit you, I’ll talk to him when I’m done.” 

Both Namjoon and Yoongi come over to bring them groceries and some clothes for Jungkook. 

The dragon eyes the two pairs of sweatpants and the white shirts with disdain, but takes them nonetheless before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, once the sound of the shower running reaches them. “Namjoon didn’t sleep a wink.” 

“That makes two of us,” Jimin mumbles, his eyes finding Namjoon’s hunched over form in front of his fridge, going through the bag of groceries they’ve brought over, putting some of them away. He feels bad for him. He’s already been through so many years of stress under his father and now this. Jimin wishes things were different. 

He looks back at Yoongi, who’s taking him in with a deep frown on his face, his eyes wandering over every inch of Jimin’s body as if wanting to make sure that he’s unharmed. 

“I’m okay,” Jimin says, but the creases on the other’s forehead don’t disappear. 

“God, I hate this,” Yoongi mumbles. “I’d rather he stays with us, we even have a spare bedroom, it’s-”

Jimin interrupts him before he can go further.

“There’s nothing we can do.” 

“We could tell him that we only help him if he stays away from you.” 

Jimin shakes his head “I’d rather we not get into more arguments with him. It’s fine, really. He didn’t do anything. He was just a bit— annoying. You know, the way he always is.” 

Yoongi nods, his jaw working. “I swear to God, if he hurts you—” He trails off. Then he sighs. “Anyway—We’ll meet up with someone in about half an hour. He’s gonna show us a facility we could rent.”

“Oh, already? That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah, a lot faster than we thought,” Namjoon approaches them from the kitchen, holding a single banana in his hand. “Sorry, this one got squashed.” 

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, taking the fruit. 

“Are you really okay?” 

“I am.” 

The other doesn’t look convinced. 

“I really am, Joonie.” Jimin says, poking the other’s upper arm with his fingertip. “Stop worrying so much about me. It’s making me worry about you.”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Alright—” He lets his hand and shoulders sink, looking defeated. “Do you wanna come to the meeting? The place is not far from here.” 

Jimin shakes his head, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair. 

“I have to open the shop at 9.30 and-” 

He’s interrupted by the bathroom door being yanked open. 

“This is uncomfortable as fuck,” Jungkook proclaims as he steps out the door.

Jimin’s throat goes dry. The white shirt is indeed a bit too small for him, the gray sweatpants maybe a little bit too short around the ankles and – well – too tight in the crotch area, but holy shit, Jungkook in this type of casual wear looks so— weird. Weirdly domestic. Weirdly— weirdly breathtaking. 

Wet like this, his hair is even longer than usual, draping over his chest, the white fabric soaking in the water, turning partially see-through. 

“It’ll have to do,” Namjoon says. “I don’t have anything else.”  

Jungkook grumbles something under his breath, before squeezing past them towards the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. 

Jimin sighs. “I guess I should eat something too,” he mumbles, eyeing the banana in his hand. “Let me know how the meeting goes.” 

Yoongi nods. 

“Don’t forget to call us tonight,” Namjoon reminds him with a stern expression. “8 a.m. and 8 p.m., every day.” 

Jimin smiles. “I won’t forget.” 

When the two are gone and it’s just Jimin and Jungkook, Jimin feels weirdly on edge again. He briefly wonders what exactly this feeling is. It doesn’t feel like yesterday when Jungkook approached him in the grocery store. It’s not full-blown fear. It’s more like— more like discomfort. His body is in a constant state of tension around Jungkook, never able to fully relax. It’s tiring, especially since he hasn’t slept at all. And the day has barely even started. 

As per Jungkook’s requests he cooks him scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast.

“Stay in your seat,” he tells the other for the umpteenth time. 

“This would be a lot faster if you would let me help.” 

“I don’t want you near me. Sit.” 

“Wow,” Jungkook deadpans as he slumps back on the stool on the other side of the kitchen island dramatically. “How hurtful, Jiminie.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes. 

When he’s done, he loads most of the eggs and all of the bacon on a plate and slides it together with a fork across the counter towards Jungkook, who just about catches it before it falls off. 

“Careful.” 

Jimin doesn’t pay him any mind. He scoops the last bit of scrambled eggs on his own plate and grabs a fork and the squashed banana from earlier, before turning around.

“I’m eating in my room.” 

“Oh no, you’re gonna eat here,” Jungkook says, patting the stool beside him. “Come, sit down.” 

“No,” Jimin says, making his way to the door. 

A loud growl makes him stop in his tracks, the hairs in his nape rising. 

“Sit. Down.” 

He swallows thickly, slowly turning around. 

Jungkook’s demeanor seems almost relaxed but the pupils in his green eyes are so narrow, they’re nothing but thin slits. He jerks his chin at the stool next to him. 

“Sit.” 

Jimin’s shoulders are tense and his legs stiff when he makes his way back to the kitchen island, his heart beating wildly in his throat. Carefully he places everything in his hold on the countertop, before picking up the second stool and moving it farther away from Jungkook. He takes a seat awkwardly.

The only warning he gets is Jungkook rolling his eyes. Then he yelps and almost loses his balance, when the other hooks his foot under the leg of the stool, dragging it back to where it has been, with Jimin right on top of it.

He snorts. “Are you gonna stab me, Jimin?” 

Jimin looks down. He hasn’t even realized that he's clutching the fork in his fist.

“Maybe.” 

Jungkook grins. “Can it wait till I’ve had my breakfast?” 

Jimin lets the fork sink. “I guess,” he mumbles. 

He waits for Jungkook to move first. Only when the other is already two mouthfuls of egg in, does he start eating too. 

“Let me cook next time. It’ll taste better.”

“Excuse me?!” 

Jungkook shrugs, pushing a whole piece of bacon in his mouth. “I’m just saying.” 

Jimin watches him licking the grease from his lips, his eyes getting briefly stuck on a spot in the corner of Jungkook’s mouth which is still glistening, before he drops his gaze down to his own plate, taking another bite.

Unfortunately, Jungkook isn't wrong, these are definitely not the best scrambled eggs in the world.

"So, how have you been?"

Jimin freezes mid-chew, slowly looking up at the other, who is eyeing him with something akin to honest interest.

"How have I been?" He asks with his mouth still full.

"Yeah, what have you been up to?"

Jimin finishes chewing slowly and swallows.

"Uh—" What a weird question. Especially coming from Jungkook. "Nothing much?" 

Jungkook hums. “Me neither.” He takes a sip of water. “How come you ended up in a coffee shop? Didn’t you wanna be a lawyer?” 

Jimin wonders how he knows about his law studies, he doesn’t remember talking to him about it. 

“Never wanted to be a lawyer,” Jimin says, pushing his eggs around. For some reason he’s a bit embarrassed. Sharing this feels weirdly personal. “Just did it because I had to.”

“Ah, all to make your scary daddy happy, hm?” 

Jimin cringes at his father being brought up. 

It’s true. He did quite a lot of things just to keep his father happy, and himself safe. Studying law was by far the easiest of them all. 

“Yep,” is all he says, pushing the fork between his lips and chewing slowly to avoid having to answer anything else. 

Jungkook sighs. “Such a pity he was already dead when I made it out. Whoever those guys were, they were quick. Would’ve loved to do it myself.”

Jimin freezes, images of his dead father popping up in his head. They are as clear as the first day. He’s never been able to forget them.

“You— You saw him?” He asks quietly. 

“Sure did. Imagine my disappointment.” 

Jimin chuckles humorlessly. “I can imagine.”

“And imagine my disappointment when I went to your room and you weren’t there either. They left a fucking mess. Seemed like they wanted to kill you too.” 

Jimin lets his fork sink, a cold shiver running down his spine. 

“Did you—” He looks at Jungkook carefully. “Did you want to kill me?” 

He expects Jungkook to grin and laugh, make a joke, tell him that yes, he indeed wanted to kill him. But Jungkook doesn’t grin, he doesn’t laugh. He looks at Jimin with an unreadable expression, long and hard, before he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, getting back to eating his breakfast. 

“I don’t know. I was in a hurry. And in a bit of a frenzy. Who knows what I would’ve done.”

Images of the dead bodies in front of Jungkook’s cell pop up in Jimin’s mind and he shudders, feeling sick all of a sudden, the eggs too slimy in his mouth. He pushes his half-eaten plate away with a sigh and a deep frown before glancing at the clock above the door to the hallway.

“I have to be at work in about half an hour. You can do whatever you want here.” He pauses, before he adds: “The bedroom is off limits though!” 

“I have no interest in your bedroom when you're not in there,” Jungkook winks and Jimin’s cheeks heat up once more. “I’ll come with you.” 

For a moment it’s silent. 

“What?” 

“What what?” Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Do you expect me to wait here for you like a fucking dog?” 

Jimin huffs, running his hand through his hair. “You can do whatever you want, but you can’t come to work with me.” 

“Why not? Are you planning to run off? Even more of a reason to come.” 

Jimin stares at him. Of course Jungkook doesn’t trust him. But this is such a bad idea. First of all, Jungkook is way too dangerous to be among people. Second of all, he needs a fucking break from him. He won’t survive an entire shift of— this. These looks and these— innuendos. 

“You might attract attention,” he tries. 

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook says, pushing another fork full of egg into his mouth. “I’ll fit right in. I have the appropriate attire now to be a nobody.” He looks down on himself and grimaces. “Thinking of— I might get some new clothes while we’re in town.” 

Jimin stares a little harder. 

“With what money exactly?” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows rise up. “I don’t need money.” 

Jimin groans, rubbing his face in exhaustion. 

“Okay, here’s a deal: You stay here while I’m at work and I’ll buy you some new clothes on my way back.” 

“Aww,” Jungkook puts his chin in his palm, batting his lashes. “You wanna pick out my clothes? Wanna bring home gifts for me? While I’m waiting for you like a good little housewife? How domestic.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Jungkook leans back and crosses his arms. “I feel like over four years of you guys picking out my clothes is enough, don’t you think?” 

Shame makes Jimin’s nape heat up.

“I’m all grown up now, Jiminie. I can get dressed all by myself. And I’m coming to work with you. Or do you wanna try and keep me locked up? Again?” 

Jimin bites the inside of his cheek, avoiding the other’s eyes. He feels almost guilty to admit that he would love to lock Jungkook up in here. To keep him far away from the outside world, so he can do no harm. But he knows this is not how it’s gonna work anymore. Not at all. 

“Fine,” he murmurs. “You can come with me.”

“And we’ll go clothes shopping afterwards.”

Jimin sighs in defeat. “Yeah, okay.”

“Keep your sunglasses on,” Jimin warns when he catches Jungkook without them again. 

“But it’s so uncomfortable to read with them,” Jungkook complains with a groan, letting his book sink while slumping against the backrest of his corner seat right next to the window. “We’re alone anyway.”

He’s right, it’s been surprisingly calm today. So far, most orders were to-go, only a handful of people sat down with their drinks and snacks. Most likely because the weather is rather warm and sunny today, luring people out to the parks during their lunch breaks. 

“You should’ve thought about that before you insisted on coming along.”

Right as Jimin finishes his sentence, the bell above the door jingles, a group of girls stepping inside, chattering lively. 

Jungkook scowls and pushes his sunglasses back on his nose, focusing on his book again.

He’s reading one written by Namjoon. His debut novel that came out almost half a year ago, a murder-mystery romance with a pretty intense twist at the end. Jimin wonders if Jungkook knows who the author Choi Seojun really is and if that’s the reason why he chose it, or if it simply sounded interesting to him when he picked it from the narrow shelf that’s squeezed between two single tables on the far end of the room. A shelf that’s filled with second hand books and the latest issues of magazines and newspapers for people to choose from. Sometimes people take a book home with them, leaving one of their own here in its place. 

Whatever the reason for him choosing Namjoon’s novel was, at least, so far, it has kept Jungkook occupied for most of Jimin's shift. That and the iced caramel macchiatos (with whipped cream and salted caramel syrup on top) that he can’t seem to get enough of. He’s had three of them already and doesn’t seem to grow tired of them in the slightest. 

When the group of girls leaves – with to-go-cups in their hands, throwing Jungkook curious glances while walking past him, just like all the other customers today did – he puts the book down and raises from his seat, strolling to the counter.

“Another one,” he simply says, placing the empty glass in front of Jimin. “And another one of these.” He points at the strawberry cupcakes in the display cabinet next to the register. 

Jimin huffs. “Do you have any idea how much sugar you’ve had today?” 

Jungkook places his palms on the countertop, leaning forward.

“No, I don’t,” he says with a small smile, the sunglasses are resting on top of his head again, and there is a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Oh God, what’s coming now? 

“Tell me,” he leans even closer and Jimin tries his damn hardest to stand his ground but his cheeks are suddenly hot and his grip around the empty glass sweaty.

“W-Well— a lot.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah, especially with the cream and—” The other leans even closer until Jimin has to crane his neck to look at him. “And the— you know— the syrup—” He trails off.

“Hmm— maybe I have taken a liking to sweet things.” 

Emerald eyes travel up and down the length of Jimin’s body, making Jimin’s toes curl in his shoes. 

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has done something like this today. When he wasn’t occupied with the book, he would make Jimin suggestive compliments or eye him up and down, pretending not to notice Jimin noticing. Jimin knows he wants to get a rise out of him and he hates him for it. But secretly, deep inside, he enjoys the attention and the thrill that comes with it.

He swallows before parting his lips in an attempt to say something, but his voice seems stuck in his throat right next to his heart, which is beating there wildly. Jungkook is gorgeous from up close, his skin smooth, his lashes dark and long, the swirling color of his eyes sucking Jimin into their depths. His lips are so close that Jimin thinks he can smell the sugary sweetness of all the cookies and cupcakes and caramel macchiatos. It makes his mouth water. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat has him snap back into his body, as well as his neck around to look at the person who has appeared right beside them. 

“Viv!” 

She raises her eyebrows, looking amused, her arms crossed, her reading glasses a little crooked, her auburn hair resting in a bun on top of her head that’s exceptionally messy today.

“Jiwon!” She mimics his surprise.  

Jimin takes a quick step back to bring distance between himself and Jungkook, laughing nervously. 

“What are you-” His gaze lands on the clock. “Oh, it’s time for your shift already.”

“It indeed is,” she says, her eyes wandering back and forth between Jimin and Jungkook, before she throws Jimin a questioning look.

“Ah— yeah, Jungkook, this is my friend Vivienne. Viv, this is my— this is Jungkook.” 

Viv extends her hand and Jungkook, who’s sunglasses are thankfully back on the bridge of his nose, shakes it politely. 

“I’m Jim- Jiwon’s boyfriend.” 

Jimin chokes on air, while Viv’s eyebrows wander even higher. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles. “Not yet.” 

Viv cocks her head to the side with a frown and pulls her hand back. 

“Is he bothering you?” She asks Jimin without taking her eyes off Jungkook, her voice laced with an unfamiliar hardness. 

“Oh no!” Jimin shakes his head and waves his hands around. “No, it’s not like that.” 

Viv relaxes.

“Well, you two did seem awfully cozy right now,” she throws Jimin a look, whose cheeks are burning up. “I’m just confused that I’ve never heard of you before—” She turns to look at Jungkook again. “Jungkook.” 

The dragon brings his palm to his chest, pretending to be shocked. “You haven’t?” He glances at Jimin. “How hurtful.” 

Jimin groans in defeat. What did he ever do to deserve this?

“Jungkook and I— we go way back. He just— he came to visit me and—” He huffs. “It was quite the surprise.” 

“Oh,” Viv sounds genuinely interested. “Where are you from, Jungkook?” 

Okay, this is dangerous territory. 

“Ah, you guys can talk all you want next time but Jungkook and I actually really have to go!” Jimin interrupts her.

Jungkook frowns. “Do we? I haven’t finished the book yet and my drink-”

“You wanted to go clothes shopping, remember?” 

Jungkook blinks. “I did.” 

“Well, let’s go then.” 

Viv throws him a look that's a mix of bewildered, amused and curious, and maybe a bit accusing, clearly blaming him for not telling her about Jungkook before.

Jimin just smiles at her when they leave. "Talk to you later, Viv."

"Oh, that we will!"

People like Jungkook. It's such a weird phenomenon. Whenever they’re around they can’t seem to stop staring. Some even approach him, trying to talk to him, like moths being lured in by bright light. 

It's clearly Jungkook’s looks, the uniqueness of his appearance, paired with his all consuming aura and the way he carries himself. People are intimidated but at the same time curious and utterly naive. They must think Jungkook's claws and the tips of the fangs peeking out under his lips are some type of body modification, they probably wouldn't even worry if they'd see his eyes.

Jungkook seems unaware of the attention most of the time, which Jimin is grateful for. Who knows what he would do if he'd realize how easy it really is for him to manipulate humans.

The not so subtle attempts at flirting by the sales assistant go unnoticed too. 

At least Jungkook doesn’t show any sign of noticing or caring. Jimin on the other hand notices. And he does care. 

He’s fucking annoyed. Not because he’s jealous or whatever – surely not– he just can’t wait to finally get out of this fucking clothing store, and if this assistant keeps bringing new items every five minutes that’s surely not gonna happen soon. 

By now the guy seems to have figured out that Jimin is the one who’s going to pay for all the stuff, so he’s making an effort to be nice to him now too, which wasn’t the case just about 40 minutes ago when he was looking Jimin up and down with a turned up nose and a displeased expression on his face, eyes darting back and forth between him and Jungkook, clearly trying to figure out what kind of relationship is going on there. Apparently he had himself convinced pretty quickly that Jimin and Jungkook weren’t a thing, because the flirting started not soon after. 

Right now, Jimin is sitting on one of the ottomans opposite to Jungkook’s cubicle, several shirts and pants piling in his lap, almost all of them different shades of black.

“I’m not gonna buy all of these for you,” he says matter-of-factly. 

The curtain of the fitting room is pulled to the side and Jungkook frowns at him behind his sunglasses. He’s wearing yet another black shirt. 

“Why not?” 

“Because you don’t need that many clothes! It all looks the same anyway.” 

“Excuse me, but that’s not true at all,” the sales assistant’s voice reaches him before the guy steps around the corner, his ash blonde hair almost gray in the bright light. He regards Jimin only briefly with an unimpressed look, before turning to Jungkook with a bright smile. 

“I found more items you might like.” 

Jimin almost groans out loud at the sight of another pair of trousers and several shirts hanging over his lower arm. All of them again black, except for- 

He sits up straight. 

One of the shirts, which seems to be a button-up, is of a deeply green color. It would probably bring out Jungkook’s eyes beautifully since the color is very similar.  

Jimin pauses. 

Did that guy see Jungkook’s eyes?! 

He throws the sales assistant a glance but nothing gives away anything out of the ordinary. Jimin takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It wouldn’t be a major issue, they could always pass it off as contacts, but still, they really should get out of here. 

He clears his throat. “You can try those on but if you want any of them, one of these has to go.” He points at the pile on his lap. 

Jungkook sighs theatrically. “Fine.” 

“And hurry up, we’re already late.” 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Jimin’s flat out lie. “Late for what?” 

Jimin grinds his teeth. “You know for what. Now make it quick.”

Jungkook chuckles. “As you wish.”

Then he takes the items from the assistants hands and disappears into the cubicle again, pulling the curtain shut. 

The guy stands there for a moment longer before he turns around.

“No more items,” Jimin says and almost gets up to kick the guy’s ass when he’s met with a roll of eyes. 

“As you wish,” the guy mimics Jungkook’s words stiffly, throwing him a tight-lipped smile. 

Jimin doesn’t even bother to smile back.

What was he thinking coming to a store like this with Jungkook? They should’ve gone to a second hand store or to one of the cheap clothing chains in the mall. He scans the price tags in his lap and does a quick mental calculation, the exhaustion inside him growing tenfold when the sum pops up in his head. 

“Jiminie, can you help me out here?” Comes Jungkook’s voice from behind the curtain.

Jimin curses under his breath, getting to his feet and throwing the pile of clothes on the ottoman before stepping up to the cubicle. He yanks the curtain to the side. 

“Don’t call me that he-” The hiss gets stuck in his throat and he freezes when he comes face to face with a naked chest. 

His mouth goes dry.

Jungkook is wearing the emerald green button-up, only that it’s – well – not buttoned up. It’s open, the fabric hanging loosely over his chest, barely covering his nipples, exposing sculpted muscles, smooth skin, inked patterns— Jimin’s swallows thickly.

“Oops, forgot. Sorry, Jiwon.”

Jungkook doesn’t sound sorry at all and there is an amused glint in his eyes when Jimin lifts his head to look at him. He’s just about to open his mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat once more.

Holy shit. He was totally right. This color really brings out Jungkook’s eyes. It suits him. Very much so. The emerald that’s staring down at him seems even deeper, even more intense like this. It pops out a lot more, it’s so— captivating.

Jimin blinks. 

Wait a damn second.

“Where the hell are your sunglasses?” He hisses and shoves Jungkook further into the fitting room, yanking the thick curtain close behind them. 

Jungkook looks around with a frown. “I don’t know, they always get in the way while changing.” 

“Well, find them!” 

“Later,” Jungkook says. “First, help me button this.” He points at his shirt, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m having a bit of a hard time, the buttons are so small and—” He wiggles his clawed fingers. “You know.” 

Jimin huffs. “I’m not your mom.” 

With that he turns around, but a hold around his upper arm keeps him from leaving. 

“But aren’t we ‘late already’?” 

Jimin glares at him over his shoulder.

“The holes are so tiny and my fingers so big, I can’t-”

“Oh my God, fine.” Jimin hisses, turning around with another huff and a tingling kind of heat in his cheeks. He grabs the other by his open collar, fists burying in the soft fabric, and yanks him closer. 

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. “Didn’t peg you for the rough type.” 

“Shut up.” 

The other chuckles but at least he keeps his mouth shut as Jimin gets to it, starting from the top, slowly sliding his fingers downwards and from button to button, fumbling a bit to squeeze each of them into the – admittedly tiny – holes. The low jazzy music coming from the store’s ceiling speakers stops briefly before it switches to the next song. The short moment of silence is enough to make Jimin overly aware of how close they are right now, of Jungkook’s body heat under his fingertips, of the other’s bonfire scent, of the heavy weight of his emerald gaze on him. 

“Do you like it?” 

“What?” Jimin croaks, not daring to look up, busying himself with the second to last button, his fingers dangerously close to Jungkook’s waistband now.

“The shirt,” Jungkook purrs and brings up his hand slowly, putting it right on Jimin’s waist. Jimin freezes, his heart hammering inside his chest. It takes a moment for him to be able to move and, after swallowing drily, getting to work on the final button.

“It’s not bad,” he mumbles, his sight blurring when Jungkook slides one finger under his shirt, his toes curling when a claw rests on his naked skin right over his waistband.

Jungkook hums. “I saw you looking at it earlier.” He curls his finger, his claw scraping over Jimin’s side, making Jimin’s breath hitches audibly. “What do you like about it?” 

Jimin wets his lips and it takes him three attempts to finally finish buttoning up Jungkook’s shirt. He doesn’t let go of the fabric when he’s done, needs something to hold onto when he lifts his gaze. Immediately, he is all-consumed by emerald eyes, Jungkook suddenly a lot closer than before. 

“I like the color,” Jimin whispers, wondering only a moment later why the hell he admitted that. Jungkook surely doesn’t need his ego stroked. To his surprise though, the small smile playing on the other’s lips isn’t as condescending as usual. It’s curious.

“And why is that?” 

“It matches your eyes.” 

Jungkook looks surprised for a second, then he chuckles, slowly leaning closer. Suddenly, his other hand comes up too, a sharp claw nudging Jimin’s chin up. 

“So you think it suits me?” He whispers, his gaze dropping to Jimin’s lips. “You like me in it?” 

Jimin feels dizzy when their eyes meet again, the look in Jungkook’s ten times more intense than before, sending goosebumps down his arms. 

“Does it matter to you what I think?”

Now the familiar grin makes his way on Jungkook’s lips. “Just curious.” 

Only when Jungkook takes a step back is Jimin able to fill his lungs with air again. 

“Well, I’m getting this one for sure,” Jungkook says, turning around to look at himself in the mirror. 

“You can’t even button it yourself.” 

“Good thing I’m staying with someone who can help me out.” He winks and Jimin flushes, turning around on his heels. 

“Whatever. Hurry up, I wanna go home.” 

Jimin spends the rest of the day locked up in his room. First, he tries to take a nap. When that doesn’t work, he busies himself with playing on his phone. 

Every time he hears Jungkook move around in the apartment, all his muscles lock and he holds his breath so he can hear what the other is up to. He hears him taking another shower, he hears him watching TV and then he hears him rummaging through the fridge. 

Around half past seven a loud knock at his door has Jimin sit up straight on his bed.

“What do you want?”

“Are we gonna have dinner or what?” Jungkook asks from the other side. 

Jimin huffs and throws his alarm clock a glance. It’s indeed time for dinner. He rolls off his bed and makes his way to the door.

“I’m not your maid, you know,” he tells the other when they come face to face, before squeezing himself past him. Jungkook is wearing a black pair of joggers and the oversized hoodie that doesn’t look as oversized on him like it probably should but it was the largest they had in the store. 

“Clearly not. A maid would make sure I’m well fed even without me reminding them.” 

“You can feed yourself,” Jimin says, making his way to the kitchen, the other trailing behind him. 

“Obviously, but you made it pretty clear this morning that you don’t want me in your kitchen.” Jungkook comes to a halt next to Jimin, who crouches down to rummage through one of the cabinets. He’s sure Namjoon and Yoongi brought over some dried pasta and canned tomatoes this morning. 

“And suddenly you’re listening to me?” 

“I can be good.” 

Jimin snorts loudly. When he finally finds both the pack of pasta and the can of tomatoes he gets up and puts them down on the kitchen counter before throwing Jungkook a glare.

“Well, get out of here then. Be a good boy and do as you’re told.” 

He doesn’t know why he said it like that. From the way Jungkook’s grin widens and his canines flash, he immediately knows he’s in trouble. 

“You're pushing your luck, Jimin.” 

Jungkook steps closer, leaning in slowly, crowding Jimin against the kitchen counter until the hard edge is digging into his lower back. Jimin’s heart surges into his throat, and it feels like a hot zap of electricity when Jungkook takes his right hand into his. He’s too stunned to even pull back. The touch is almost gentle, clawed fingers wrapping around his wrist easily, bringing his hand up, emerald eyes traveling over every inch of it.

“You are aware that I’m holding back from bending you over that kitchen counter right now, aren’t you?” 

Whatever Jimin was bracing himself for, nothing could’ve prepared him for this. 

The immediate heat flooding his face makes him dizzy for a moment, the pounding rush of his heart loud in his ears. Nothing but a choked up sound leaves his throat and he tries to pull his hand back but Jungkook’s relentless grip keeps it in place. 

The dragon’s eyes find his. They are dark, the glint in them deadly, the smile on his lips amused.

“Or that I held back from taking you behind that counter in your little coffee shop with your cute little apron on. Or that I held back from shoving my cock down your throat in that clothing store, when you were eyeing me up so hungrily.” 

Oh God. 

Jimin tries to pull his hand back once more. To no avail. 

“To be honest, I also kind of wanted to suck you off there,” Jungkook’s grin widens, his eyelids heavy as he brings Jimin’s hand up. “You were so frustrated with me, it was adorable— Wanted to do all kinds of things to you.”

Jimin gasps, the pounding of his heart getting louder, when he feels the other’s hot breath ghosting over his palm, followed by an even hotter tongue, licking over the sensitive skin, all the way up his middle finger, leaving a liquid trail of heat. 

“Bet you would’ve tasted delicious,” Jungkook whispers. “Bet you would’ve looked just as adorable trying to keep quiet.” He nips at Jimin’s fingertip, his eyes flashing when Jimin’s breath hitches once more. 

Jimin can’t look away from Jungkook’s lips sliding over his skin, the sensation warm and soft, fluttery, overwhelming. His mouth goes dry when said lips part to wrap around his ring finger, a hot throb cursing through his belly at the sensation of his skin being nipped by a canine before his entire finger is sucked into the wet heat of Jungkook’s mouth. The only thing keeping him from passing out is Jungkook’s heavy gaze, pinning him down, making him feel like he’s falling into a trance. He watches as the other pulls back, painfully slowly, pressing his tongue flat against his finger while doing so, before releasing it with a wet pop.

“Would you have been embarrassed if all those people in the store would’ve heard you?” He whispers with a teasing glint in his eyes, sliding his tongue between Jimin’s middle and ring finger. “Or are you into that kind of stuff?” His teeth scrape all the way up to the fingertip. “Just say the words and I’ll do it next time.” He grins and his dreamy sigh sends a puff of hot breath against Jimin’s skin. “You know— Because I’m a good boy and all.”  

And then he takes both fingers into his mouth, wraps his tongue around them and starts sucking softly, literally working them as if he’s giving head.

Jimin’s brain short circuits, he’s burning up, and it’s so hard to breathe, he’s sure he’s about to suffocate. He’ll probably drop dead any second now. His trembling thighs squeeze together at a hard teasing bite, the heat in his belly increasing and then there is a heavy throb between his legs. 

Something flashes through Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes, his nostrils flaring, before a low moan vibrates around Jimin’s fingers, a sensation that travels straight to his cock. 

His lips fall open, a soft gasp leaving his throat. 

This is bad. 

This is so bad. 

If he doesn’t put an end to this now—

“Please— Please stop,” he whispers, trying to pull his hand back weakly. 

Jungkook pauses, looking at him. Then he chuckles around Jimin’s fingers before slowly letting them slip from his mouth until they slide free with a wet pop. He straightens up, letting go of Jimin’s hand which drops to his side limply, the tingling wetness still there. 

“Alright.” 

Jungkook’s lips are wet and slightly red, the corners of his mouth curled up in amusement.

“I’m hungry,” he says as he turns around, running his clawed fingers through his long hair. “Hurry up.” 

While Jimin is frying the diced onions that made him cry only two minutes ago, trying to shake off what happened between Jungkook and him earlier, he remembers that he has to give Namjoon a call. It’s eight already. 

He turns down the heat of the stove and grabs his phone, Jungkook’s eyes following him while doing so. Of course the dragon didn’t leave the kitchen like Jimin hoped he would. Instead, he’s sitting on one of the barstools on the other side of the kitchen island again, watching him cook their food with a scowl, clearly displeased with some of Jimin’s choices. At least he’s keeping his mouth shut for now.

Namjoon picks up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for his call. 

“Jimin?” 

“Hi. Just checking in to say I’m okay.” More or less. His gaze flies to Jungkook who chuckles and Jimin quickly averts his eyes.

There is a sigh of relief on the other end.

“That’s good to hear. Could both of you come upstairs for a minute? We decided to rent that lab we looked at today, but there are still some things we have to talk about. With Jungkook specifically.” 

Jungkook looks up at his name being mentioned. Of course his sensitive ears can hear everything Namjoon is saying.

“I’m cooking dinner right now, his majesty said he’s hungry,” Jimin says and ignores Jungkook’s snort. “Can it wait till after?” 

“Is there enough for two more?”

Jimin eyes the small amount of onion. “Well— not really. I haven’t started cooking the pasta yet though.”

“We’ll be there in five.” 

With that Namjoon hangs up. 

“The lab is rented and most of the equipment we need came with it already,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of water. “There are still a couple of components missing, but Yoongi’s friend assured us he can organize them for us tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow at the latest.” 

Yoongi nods in agreement, chewing on his pasta. 

“It’s in a secluded area right behind the industrial district, not far from here. I’ll send you the address because I need you—” Namjoon looks at Jungkook, who has been eating his dinner in silence. “To come over tomorrow.” 

At first glance you might think Jungkook isn’t interested whatsoever in what Namjoon and Yoongi have been telling them, he seemed almost bored with the news even, but Jimin can tell he is interested from the way his leg bobs up and down beside him under the dining table and from the way he’s not even halfway through his food even though they’ve been eating for quite a while. As if he’s nervous and on edge.

Jungkook’s leg stills at being addressed.

“What do you need me for?” He asks, acting particularly bored, but his grip around his fork is tight.

“I need some blood samples,” Namjoon explains. “Quite a lot actually, so you don’t have to come in all the time. I’ll have to analyze it and I’ll start with testing the antidotes I create on your blood first before injecting them directly into your veins.” 

Jungkook’s jaw slowly relaxes. He shrugs. 

“Fine.” 

That night, when Jimin locks himself in his bedroom and takes the poison, he briefly wonders if Jungkook is comfortable on the couch or if he should offer him a pillow and a blanket. 

He also wonders if Jungkook would hear him if he would— well, take care of something. The undeniable tension between them, combined with Jungkook’s blatant flirting, left him with a throbbing need in his belly and an urge in his fingertips to do something about it.

In the end, he decides not to risk it and wills his growing erection down. 

He also decides to deal with the pillows and blankets for Jungkook tomorrow. Maybe. 

Jimin is just on the brink of sleep, when his phone buzzing with a message jolts him awake. Groggily he reaches for it, squinting at the screen, the poison in his blood making his sight blur. It’s from Namjoon.

hid some sedatives in your bathroom. syringe in the top drawer under the sink. just if things get out of hand!

Jimin sits up straight, a sense of unease washing over him, mixing with anger.

They fucking talked about this. Jimin already said that he thought it was a horrible idea. Why the fuck was nobody listening to him?! With his sensitive nose, Jungkook might find it, and— God, in the bathroom. A room Jungkook uses several times a day. What was Namjoon thinking?  

With a muttered curse Jimin slips out of bed, tiptoeing to the bedroom door, where he pauses to listen. The TV in the living room is still running and he uses the loud noise of shooting and shouting coming from the movie to open his door and rush down the hallway as quietly as possible, careful not to draw Jungkook’s attention. 

He’ll hide the stuff in his bedroom and decide what to do with it tomorrow. He’s too drowsy right now to think clearly, he just has to get it out of there. 

He squints against the bathroom lights flickering on, the tiles cool under his knees when he sinks down in front of the sink, opening the top drawer of the vanity cabinet. He blinks and rummages through the contents. Bandages, painkillers, cold medicine, thermometer— No syringe. 

He frowns, pushing the drawer shut and pulling the one below open. 

No syringe either.

Weird, didn’t Namjoon say-

“Looking for something?” 

Jimin freezes.

Jungkook’s voice is low and dangerously calm, and when Jimin slowly turns in his spot on the floor, he finds the other leaning against the doorframe, looking down at him with an amused smile, twirling something between his fingers. When Jimin’s gaze drops to his hand, his blood runs cold. A syringe, filled with clear liquid, the needle protected with a plastic cap. The sound of Jungkook’s claws tapping against the glass barrel makes his skin crawl. 

Slowly, he gets up from the floor, his knees weak from the poison, his fingertips cold. 

“Namjoon brought it over to—” He swallows dryly. “Just in case—” He meets Jungkook’s eyes. “I wasn’t going to use it.” 

The other chuckles, not taking his eyes off Jimin as he pushes himself off the doorframe and stalks closer, slowly, his eyes flashing like those of a predator. His presence is imposing and overwhelming and Jimin takes a step back, pressing himself against the cold edge of the sink. 

“You know what—” Jungkook takes a final step forward, so close now that their bodies are almost touching, caging Jimin in with an arm on either side of him, crowding him against the vanity. “I believe you.” 

There is something dangerous in his smile and he leans closer, his face blurring in front of Jimin’s eyes when their noses touch. 

“You wouldn’t try anything stupid, would you?” 

Jimin shakes his head and then jumps at the sharp crack of glass breaking behind him, followed by brittle shattering noises of tiny wet shards raining into the sink. 

“Good,” Jungkook whispers when he’s done crushing the syringe. “Time for bed now, Jiminie. We’re needed at a lab tomorrow morning.”

A sharp claw under his chin, tipping his head up, and the heat of Jungkook’s breath on his lips send a thrill down Jimin’s spine. His heart is hammering in his chest when the other closes the distance. 

The brief touch of lips is disturbingly tender and soft, affectionate almost, and it’s gone so quickly that Jimin isn’t sure if he’s imagined it.

“Off you go,” Jungkook purrs.

The pounding in his chest makes it almost impossible to breathe and when Jungkook takes a step back, Jimin’s body moves immediately. He ducks away and rushes out the room on unsteady legs, stumbling to his bedroom, where he throws the door shut and turns the lock, the lingering sensation of Jungkook’s kiss still tingling on his lips.

Chapter Text

I’m wide awake, I crave your taste.

The coffee shop hums with a mix of pleasant aromas and soft chatter. It’s rainy today and surprisingly cold, which is why their cozy establishment is attracting more people than on a regular Sunday. They expected this, which is why Jimin is standing behind the counter, wearing his black barista apron, flashing friendly smiles at customers, and taking their orders, while Viv and one of their temps – also a student at Viv’s college – are busy preparing the drinks behind him. 

Amidst the crowd, Jungkook is sitting at his favorite corner table, engrossed in a book. As per usual. He seems a bit out of place in his all black get-up and with his sunglasses on, but the staring doesn’t seem to bother him.

Jimin can’t help but stare too. As if on autopilot, his eyes are constantly drawn to the other, captivated by the way Jungkook’s dark hair falls into his face as he reads, the way his long elegant fingers turn the page. 

In the past week or so, he has taken a liking to wearing rings. Jimin doesn’t know where he got them from – he’s let him out of sight at the mall literally once – but suddenly they were there, big and silver and chunky, adorning Jungkook’s fingers as if they belonged nowhere else. They look good on him. 

Jimin thinks there’s nothing that doesn’t look good on Jungkook. 

He watches as the dragon absentmindedly reaches for his drink, eyes still glued to the book, bringing the straw to his lips blindly, only to realize a second later that there is nothing left. Jimin chuckles when Jungkook frowns at the empty glass, before lifting his head. Even though Jimin can’t see his eyes, he can tell he’s looking directly at him. Jungkook taps the empty glass and raises an eyebrow, which has Jimin snort. He jerks his chin at the empty spot behind the people lining up in front of the counter, indicating that Jungkook has to get in line too if he wants another one. 

The dragon scowls but eventually he gets up. Several heads turn as he makes his way through the room. 

“Can you make me another caramel macchiato for Jungkook?” Jimin asks Viv over his shoulder. 

She turns around with a frown. “How can he drink all of those and still look like— that?” 

“I wish I knew,” Jimin sighs. 

“Why is he always here anyway? I haven’t had the chance to talk to you in ages.”

“We talk all the time,” Jimin points out, before smiling at the next customer. “Hi, what can I get you?” 

“Yes, but not about him,” Viv mumbles, glancing over Jimin’s shoulder at the order on the screen before getting the cups for the frappuccinos ready. “Not that I wanna gossip about your boyfriend but— you know— I have some questions.” 

Jimin is glad that the order is a rather intricate one, keeping her busy. 

It’s been almost three weeks of Jungkook staying with him and things have not been easy. 

Apart from the fact that being around Jungkook for an extended amount of time is more exhausting than anyone could ever imagined, Namjoon and Yoongi fussing over him every single day like clucking mother hens isn’t helping either. Their continuous questions if he’s okay, them scolding him if he doesn’t call at eight o'clock sharp, them sometimes even appearing at his front door unannounced just to make sure he’s still unharmed, is slowly but surely getting on his nerves. He knows they mean well but at this point he really just needs a break from people.

Especially from Jungkook. 

Jungkook is— a lot.  

He’s intimidating, he’s overwhelming, and he’s intense. In everything he does. Sometimes he seems unaware of his effect on others. Sometimes he seems to do stuff just to get under people’s skin. Especially Jimin’s. 

The flirting, the lewdness, the innuendos— Every day it seems to get worse. And every day, Jimin’s resolve crumbles a little bit more. 

Granted, a full on attack like the one in the kitchen on the second night hasn’t happened again. Yet. But Jimin knows it’s only a matter of time. And the worst part is, he’s waiting for it, his face still flushing hotly at the mere thought of Jungkook’s mouth around his fingers. By now the atmosphere between them is loaded with so much pent-up tension that Jimin almost thinks it would be a relief if it would finally snap. 

Even though it would be a big mistake.

Enormous. 

He’s human and Jungkook is— not. Jungkook is unpredictable, violent, deadly—

Unfortunately, he’s also incredibly attractive. 

Jimin wonders when exactly he’s lost the survival instinct that has been such an integrated part of him for almost all of his life. When did he get so careless? When did he go from doing everything he possibly can to keep himself safe to more or less willingly rooming with a predator? Was it the death of his father that gave him a false sense of security so quickly? Is it his body and brain finally relaxing after years of fearing for his life and safety?

He quite literally blacked out for a moment when he saw Jungkook naked the other day, even though he’s seen him naked countless of times back then. But somehow it was different when Jungkook stepped out of the bathroom, still wet and a little bit soapy.

“The shower is broken.” 

It took Jimin at least five seconds to answer. He’s sure his mouth was hanging open, his phone almost slipping from his fingers as he watched Jungkook’s muscles shift under his smooth glistening skin, water droplets and foam dripping from his wet hair, running over his chest, along his abs, down the sharp jut of hip bones and then the narrow V that led to- 

Jimin cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away. 

“What?”

Jungkook looked amused in the knowing kind of way. 

“The shower is broken,” he repeated. 

Jimin ignored the heat rising in his cheeks and made his way to the bathroom with a huff. The way Jungkook was following so closely behind him was most likely on purpose. 

In the end it turned out Jungkook had broken the hot water knob by turning it further than it was supposed to go, ripping it off in the process, which was now causing the faucet to leak an insane amount of water. 

“How the hell did you manage to do that?” Jimin groaned as he dialed the number of the building’s plumbing service. 

“The water wasn’t hot enough,” Jungkook grumbled, still covered in foam but wrapped in a towel now.

“If the knob doesn’t turn any further it means that’s the hottest it can go!” 

“Well, it’s not hot enough!” 

The plumber came pretty soon after, Jungkook finished his shower – complaining about the ‘too cold’ water – and everything was fine. Only that Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about that smooth skin and those stupid muscles and the way that one water droplet fell from Jungkook’s hair and landed on his arm while he was trying to fix the shower with Jungkook leaning in next to him. 

Jungkook is just overall very distracting. He distracts Jimin not only at home but also when they’re out shopping or when they meet up with Namjoon and Yoongi or when he’s at work. 

Over the past weeks Jimin has been noticing all the small details about him that he missed before. The way Jungkook’s lips would twitch into a subtle smile when reading something particularly funny, or the slight furrow of his brows when he encounters a more serious passage. 

Each day, Jungkook orders the same caramel macchiato with cream and salted caramel syrup, which Jimin pays for, even though he technically gets free drinks at the shop. Given the amount of macchiato Jungkook consumes, taking all of it for free wouldn’t feel right. Jimin by now knows that Jungkook likes to drink half of it first, then spooning up the cream, before drinking the rest.

“Hey you!” Jimin’s thoughts are interrupted by Viv’s voice behind him. “Why are you always here?”

He looks up to see that it’s Jungkook’s turn now, who leans against the counter with a small grin, pushing his empty glass into their general direction. 

“I’m waiting around for him like a lost puppy, aren’t I?” He asks. 

“A lost puppy or a guard dog, I can’t decide,” Viv snorts while preparing his drink. 

Jimin’s shoulders strain at the jab and he sends Jungkook a worried glance. The other just chuckles. 

“Ah, more like a puppy, really. It’s a bit embarrassing—” Jimin feels his eyes on him even through the dark tint of his sunglasses. “But the truth is, without him, I really am kind of lost.” 

Jimin averts his gaze and he catches Viv, who was just about to top his drink with cream, staring at Jungkook until a faint blush spreads on her cheekbones. Jimin can tell that she thinks it’s cute, maybe romantic even. If only she knew—

It’s kind of true that Jungkook is ‘lost’ without him. In a quite literal sense. Without Jimin’s and Namjoon’s help he’d never find his way back to his family after all.

They’ve been to the laboratory outside the industrial district three times already so that Jungkook could give Namjoon all the blood samples he needs for testing and developing the antidote.  

Jimin doesn’t like the facility. The looks of it, the smell, the artificial lighting, the sounds those machines make— It all reminds him so much of back then. Of their basement at his father’s manor. It’s of course a lot smaller than what they had back then, a lot simpler, but the vibe is still there and it gives Jimin a hard time. 

The first time they had to go there for Namjoon to take Jungkook’s blood, cold sweat clung to Jimin’s back not even ten minutes into their visit, his pulse hammering quickly, his fingers ice cold. When they finally left, he felt dizzy, sucking the outside air deeply into his lungs, his eyes blinking against the bright sunlight. He was so out of it, he even forgot to have a talk with Namjoon for leaving that syringe with sedatives in his bathroom. But maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was better to make Namjoon believe that it was still there.
Jungkook looked at Jimin with a deep frown on their way back home, his nostrils flaring, most likely smelling his unease, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“Wouldn’t have pegged him for a romantic,” Viv snorts after Jungkook has taken a seat again, his nose buried back in his book.

“He’s not,” Jimin says with his full chest, even though he’s not even sure about that. How would he know? How would he know how Jungkook treats people he loves? Is he even capable of love? From the way he was talking about wanting to go back to his tribe, to his family and friends, he seems to deeply care about them.

Jimin can’t help but wonder— Does Jungkook have someone he loves back there? Has someone been grieving him for the past five years because they think he’s dead? Since the suppressants also suppress Jungkook’s magic, they can’t sense him just like he can’t sense them anymore. That’s why he can’t find his way back. All his connection to his life and family has been cut. They probably think he’s dead.

The sour guilt that’s been resting like a rock in the pit of Jimin’s stomach immediately feels ten times heavier. 

He really hopes they can help Jungkook find his way back home. 

He also hopes they won’t die in the process. 

“I have a question,” Jungkook says as they’re walking down the street side by side after finally closing up the shop.

It’s already past eight and the sky cleared of the rain clouds from earlier. Still, it’s chilly, the sun slowly setting, bathing the city in a warm orange glow. Jimin has just gotten off the phone with Namjoon, sliding it back into his pocket. 

“Which is?” 

“Why are you never outside?” 

Jimin looks at him and frowns. “What do you mean?” He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. “I’m outside right now.” 

Jungkook looks around, at the tall buildings, the bricks, the concrete, the steel, and wrinkles his nose. Even though the streets aren’t usually as busy on a Sunday night, there is the constant hum of traffic reaching them from afar and when they round a corner, they step into an area that’s filled with billboards and neon signs, flashing advertisements in all kinds of colors, competing for attention. People are still out and about, rushing to the subway station or strolling down the streets to find a restaurant or bar to have dinner or drinks. 

“I mean outside as in nature,” Jungkook clarifies. “This is—” He wrinkles his nose a bit more. “Pretty disgusting, quite frankly.” 

Jimin shrugs. “There isn’t much nature here.” 

“There is a huge park not even twenty minutes from your apartment.” 

Jimin blinks in surprise. He knows what park Jungkook is referring to, when they first moved here, he went for a run there every now and then. It’s not a bad park. It’s kinda pretty. But Jimin was never drawn to nature and, more importantly, he never felt safe there. 

Maybe it’s the large empty areas. Maybe it’s the absence of people. 

In the crowded spaces of a busy city like this, he as an individual, with a fake name and a fake past, can disappear and remain undetected. Here, he is one of many. Here, nobody cares. But in a park so big that every person kind of stands out, he feels exposed and overall just not as safe. 

He looks at Jungkook, who has his jacket thrown over one of his shoulders casually, his chin lifted as if he wants to soak in the last couple of rays from the quickly setting sun, his silky hair shimmering in the golden light. 

Jimin wonders how much he misses it. Nature. He’s been ripped from his home about five years ago, has been trapped in a basement for the most part of it and now, even though he’s technically free, he’s still trapped. In this body. In this city. 

Jimin digs his teeth into his lower lip, the same sour taste of guilt from earlier spreading in his throat. 

“You— You know you can just go there, right?” He asks slowly and averts his eyes when Jungkook looks at him. “You don’t have to sit with me at work and stuff, you can just go out and do what you like. Going to the park for example.” 

Jungkook snorts, briefly stepping behind Jimin to avoid walking into a street lamp before coming up beside him again. 

“So that you can pack your stuff and grab the scientist and run off?” 

Oh. That’s how it is. He still doesn’t trust them. 

“You think we would bail the moment you let us out of sight?” 

“Wouldn’t you?” 

The wind picks up and the sudden chill has Jimin grab the open fronts of his jacket, pulling them together and hugging his middle in the process. 

Honestly, he’s not sure. Maybe they would think about it. Maybe they would even do it. Or maybe they wouldn’t.  

“I don’t know.” 

All he knows is that the guilt inside him would eat him alive if they wouldn’t even try to help Jungkook. 

“See,” Jungkook snorts. 

After that, for a brief moment, heavy silence settles around them, hanging heavy in the air as they walk, filling the space between them with unspoken thoughts and emotions. At least on Jimin’s side. He really feels bad for Jungkook but he doesn’t want to tell him that. He probably wouldn’t take it well. 

When the apartment building comes into view, Jimin speaks up again. 

“Do you wanna go there?” 

“Where?” 

“To the park.” Jimin looks at Jungkook from the corner of his eyes. “It’s my day off tomorrow. We can go together.” He pauses. “I promise I won’t run off.” 

Jungkook doesn’t look at him, staring straight ahead, his hands buried in his pockets, his demeanor nonchalant and bored. Only after a while he shrugs. 

“Okay.” 

Jimin had to borrow a blanket from Yoongi and Namjoon to sit on and since he, once again, didn’t have any food in his fridge, they had to buy some drinks and snacks on their way to the park. 

Even though it’s not even noon, it’s already warm outside and, since it’s Monday, the park isn’t crowded at all when they get there. Still, Jungkook insists on searching for a spot far away from the commotion of families with young children on their picnic blankets and the huge playground that’s filled with screams and giggles. 

After a while of searching, they finally settle down in the shade of a large tree, the soft breeze creating a gentle rustle of leaves above them, birds flying from branch to branch, chirping along. The sunlight that falls through the leaves is filtered into patches of warmth on the ground, contrasting with the cool shade of the tree. 

Jimin’s eyes trace the surroundings, taking in the greenery and the flowerbeds, the splashes of red, yellows and blues, the bees buzzing from flower to flower. 

This time, the silence between them isn’t all that bad. For a while they just sit quietly, observing what’s going on around them, until Jungkook pulls out his book and starts reading. Jimin takes in their surroundings a little longer and for a moment a sense of peace washes over him. As if time stands still, as if all his worries and all the stress seem to fade away, replaced by a sudden deep connection with this present moment, the rustling leaves, the rustling of paper when Jungkook turns a page. Everything feels serene. 

Just when Jimin is about to pull out his own book, movement catches his eye. 

He turns and watches as a small bird makes its way through the patch of grass beside Jungkook, curiously hopping closer and closer on tiny feet. Its feathers shimmer in a mix of brown and reddish colors. 

Jungkook has already spotted the bird too, his book resting in his lap as he watches it hop closer. 

It tilts its head, studying them with bright beady eyes and Jimin startles when Jungkook extends his hand towards it. The bird, however, doesn’t startle at all. Jimin watches in wonder as the delicate thing, without any hesitation, hops right onto Jungkook’s palm. It chirps softly, ruffling its feathers cutely.

And then Jimin is completely taken aback by the sound that follows. 

Jungkook chuckles. 

But it’s not his usual amused and almost condescending kind of chuckle. It sounds happy. Genuinely happy, almost like a giggle. And when Jimin looks at him a strange type of warmth spreads in his chest at the sight of the soft smile that plays on the other’s lips with a subtle curve. It’s a delicate upturn of the corners of his mouth, a tender expression, accompanied by a gentle glimmer in his emerald eyes, almost— almost as if his whole soul is shining through.

Jimin can’t stop staring. 

Right now, Jungkook seems totally at ease. He radiates so much content, and Jimin realizes it’s because this is where Jungkook belongs. Surrounded by nature. He’s part of nature. That’s why the little bird isn’t scared at all, even though Jungkook could easily crush it within half a second. 

But instead, he’s looking at it with fondness, with affection. 

Something hard forms in Jimin’s throat when he realizes what they must’ve done to him by ripping him away from all that. 

As if Jungkook could sense his eyes on him, he lifts his gaze, meeting Jimin’s and immediately Jimin’s cheeks heat up. Not only because he’s been caught staring but also because, for a very brief moment, Jungkook looks at him with the same fond expression which he’s been looking at the bird with. 

It only lasts a heartbeat. 

Slowly, the smile fades from his lips. 

“Go,” he says softly, looking at the bird. “Fly along.”  

With a final chirp the little creature spreads its wings and takes off and Jimin follows it with his eyes until it disappears from his line of sight, vanishing between the leaves above them. 

“That was beautiful,” he whispers. 

Jungkook snorts and puts his book aside before he extends his legs and leans back on his elbows. 

“Was it?” 

“Yeah,” Jimin breathes, still somewhat in awe. 

“You humans always say that,” Jungkook laughs. “That nature is beautiful.” 

“Don’t you think it is?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “Nature is dangerous. Its beauty is just a false front to camouflage the cruelty.” 

Just like you, Jimin thinks. So dangerous and yet so beautiful. 

With a sigh Jungkook lies back on the blanket, putting an arm behind his head before closing his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Jimin thinks this is the end of the conversation. He tears his gaze away from Jungkook’s bulging bicep and picks up his book. 

“Why are you still poisoning yourself?” 

Jimin freezes. 

“I— what?” 

Jungkook opens his eyes and turns his head to look at him. 

“You heard me.” 

Jimin clears his throat, letting the book sink once more. “Several reasons." He worries his lower lip before he admits: "Out of habit, mostly.” 

For a while Jungkook doesn’t say anything, his eyes traveling over Jimin’s face in that familiar unsettling way before he turns to look straight up into the tree top. 

“It makes you smell weird. Back then too, you always smelled wrong.” 

“Wrong?” 

“Always a little bit of—” Jungkook pauses. “A bit of death. Death and insomnia. Just—weird.” 

Jimin frowns. “Is it—Do I smell bad?” 

“It’s not necessarily pleasant but it’s also not bad. Stuff like that—to us it doesn’t smell like actual scents, it just smells like the thing that it is, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” 

Jungkook sighs and closes his eyes again. “Oh, to be as incapable and ignorant as a human.” 

Well, that’s a low blow. 

“It’s not our fault that our senses don’t work that way,” Jimin points out with a sniff.  

“Mhm and it must be bliss to be this unaware of your surroundings.” Jungkook blinks his eyes open again to look at him. “What do you smell right now?” 

Jimin’s frown deepens and he inhales through his nose. He doesn’t really smell anything. It just smells of outside. He inhales again. 

“I don’t know. A bit of grass and— dirt?” 

Jungkook barks out a laugh. “Dirt?” 

“Or sand?” Jimin flushes. “I don’t know, that’s just not how our noses work!” 

He grabs one of the soda cans from his bag and opens it with a fizzing pop, taking a long sip.

Jungkook chuckles. “Well, I can smell a squirrel building its nest right above us. It isn’t happy that we’re here.” 

Jimin looks into the leaves above, licking the sweet sugary soda from his lips. 

“Oh— Should we go somewhere else?” 

“Nah, it’ll live.” Jungkook props himself up on his elbows again, looking around. “I can also smell that all these trees here need water. All the plants are waiting for the rain that’s coming tonight. I can smell that too. The clouds smell heavy. I smell that the ice cream truck is right around the corner. I can smell that those teenagers over there,” he nods at the general direction of a guy and a girl sitting on a blanket just out of earshot. “Are disgustingly horny for each other.” 

Jimin chokes on another sip of soda. 

“And they’re nervous,” Jungkook chuckles. “The guy first and foremost. It’s ridiculous. And over there,” he juts his chin at a middle-aged woman walking her dog down the road. It’s white and fluffy, like a small bouncy cloud. “That dog hasn’t had a shit in about three days.” 

Jimin chokes on his drink once more, a loud snort leaving his throat. 

“And the woman smells like she’s panicking over it,” the other goes on.

Jimin looks up at the dog and the woman. The dog is just standing there, a somewhat unhappy expression on its face, the woman crouching down in front of it, talking to it, gesturing around wildly and Jimin can just imagine what she’s saying to convince it to poop.

He has to put the can aside when laughter bubbles up inside his chest before it escapes his lips in bursts of giggles. His entire body shakes with them and he sways slightly, putting his hand out to steady himself on the ground beside him, the back of his other hand pressing to his lips as he keeps laughing so hard his sight starts to blur. 

When he’s finally done the woman and the dog are gone and Jungkook is staring at him from where he’s lying with parted lips.

“What?” Jimin croaks, wiping a hint of wetness from the corners of his eyes. 

Jungkook snaps his mouth shut and averts his eyes. 

“Nothing.” 

It’s early evening when they make their way back home. 

Jimin is surprised how at ease he feels, surprised how much energy this little time away from the hustle and bustle of the city gave him. 

“I don’t feel like cooking,” Jimin says, a slow yawn crawling up his throat. “How about getting takeout?” 

“Fine with me,” Jungkook says. At some point throughout the day he has put his hair up in a knot and by now some strands have come loose, falling softly in his face. “Your cooking sucks anyway.” 

Jimin glares at him. “Says the one inhaling it like there’s no tomorrow.” 

Jungkook shrugs. “Food is food.” 

“Well, then I guess you don’t mind me choosing what we’re gonna eat tonight.”  

Jungkook just shrugs again and this is how, only fifteen minutes later, they end up in Jimin’s favorite Thai restaurant, waiting for their takeout.

Jimin has been craving Green Curry for a while now, but really the reason why he decides to get it tonight – even though he would never admit it out loud – is because he’s sure Jungkook will like it too. He has noticed that the dragon loves his food a bit spicy. 

It’s too early for the restaurant to be packed, so it doesn’t take long for a guy – Jimin knows he’s the owner’s son – to hand them the plastic bag with their food containers. 

“Here you go. You already paid, right?” 

Jimin takes the bags with a smile. “Yes, we paid when we ordered.” 

“Okay, that’s all th-” The guy freezes when his eyes land on Jungkook. “Dude!” He exclaims, his mouth wide open. “Wow! Your contacts are sick!” 

Jimin’s stomach drops and he can literally feel the color drain from his face. Before he can stop himself, his head whips around to look at Jungkook behind him. 

The dragon is staring at the guy in front of them, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, the slits of his lizard eyes on full display. His gaze finds Jimin’s briefly, before it snaps back at the other. He seems at a loss for words. Jimin's throat goes dry, his heart hammering in his throat. 

“Where did you get those?!”

Jimin turns back around. “There was a sale at— uhh— that one Halloween store, you know—” He clears his throat, his hand holding the bag turning clammy, the plastic cutting into his palm. “You know the one—umm—” 

“Oh, the big one outside of town, next to that furniture place?” 

“Yes!” Jimin quickly exclaims. “Yes, exactly that one.” 

“Awesome! I hope I can go there before the sale ends!” He looks at Jungkook. “What brand are these?” 

Jungkook looks back and forth between Jimin and the guy. “I don’t remember?” 

God, they need to get out of here. Jimin looks at the clock on the wall pointedly. 

“Oh my, we’re already late!” He grabs Jungkook by his wrist and throws the employee a smile, holding up the bag. “Thank you, bye!” 

“Enjoy! See you next time.”

Jimin drags Jungkook out of the restaurant and down the street. 

“Put your fucking sunglasses on,” he hisses. 

“I don’t know where they are,” Jungkook hisses back. 

Jimin groans. “Then keep your eyes on the ground, for fuck’s sake.” 

They step into the apartment only ten minutes later. Jimin slams the door shut behind them and makes his way into the living room, where he drops the bag with food on the coffee table with a frustrated huff.

He can’t believe this happened. 

“Why the hell were you walking around without sunglasses?!” He asks Jungkook, who’s appearing on the threshold, diligently having taken his shoes off before coming in. 

“I just forgot to put them on,” he shrugs, his arms crossed, not seeming faced at all. 

“How can you just forget?!”

“You didn’t notice either.” 

Jimin bites his tongue to keep himself from cursing out loud. Jungkook is right. Jimin was walking with him the entire way from the park to the restaurant and didn’t notice that Jungkook’s eyes were on full display. 

He sinks down on the armrest of the sofa in exhaustion, rubbing his face. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?!” Jimin lets his hands sink and looks up at the other. “Do you have any idea how many people probably saw you?!” 

“What does it matter?” 

Jimin stares at him in disbelief. 

“It matters a lot!” He gets to his feet. “Are you serious?! Those people out there,” he points at the window. “They have no idea that something like you even exists!” 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. He’s leaning against the door frame with one shoulder, his arms still crossed, the posture so nonchalant that it infuriates Jimin. 

“And they never will.”

“That guy today almost did!” 

“Oh please,” Jungkook snorts. “He had no clue. And if he would’ve tried anything I would’ve just killed him.”

Jimin feels all warmth leave his face, a chill running down his spine. Jungkook said it so casually. 

“You can’t kill people just because they might find out what you are,” he says after a moment of silence, his throat dry. 

Jungkook chuckles. “Why not? Actually, I’ve been holding back quite a bit since I came here. With that little nosy co-worker of yours for example.”

Jimin’s heart starts beating faster. 

“Jungkook, don’t– don’t say that. Don’t even joke about stuff like that.”

With a sigh Jungkook pushes himself off the doorframe and steps into the living room. “Oh, but I’m not joking. Humans get on my nerves. Most of them deserve to be killed anyway.” He stops in front of the window, looking down into the streets, his jaw visibly straining. “Useless fucking idiots with nothing but a God complex,” he says between clenched teeth. “I wish I could rip them all apart.” 

Jimin feels sick. The Jungkook from earlier today—he’s completely gone. The Jungkook who closed his eyes to let the sun shine in his face, the Jungkook who carefully held a tiny bird in his hand while smiling.

“Why are you like this?” Jimin whispers. 

Jungkook turns around to him with a scoff. “Like what?” 

“Why are you so cruel?” Jungkook's eyes narrow at Jimin’s words. “How can you talk like this after—after being so different earlier?” 

At that Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?” 

Jimin stares at him, something hard forming in his throat. He swallows it down. 

“Never mind,” he mumbles before shrugging off his jacket and making his way to the coat stand in the hallway.

Jungkook comes after him. 

“No, enlighten me. How was I ‘different’ earlier?” 

Jimin kicks his shoes off. “I said never mind. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just eat.” 

“Oh, but it does matter.” 

Jungkook cuts off his way when Jimin is about to squeeze past him. 

“Did you think I was kind, Jimin?” 

Jungkook crowds into his space, his presence as overwhelming as ever, his gaze dark and intense and Jimin tries to hold his ground, planting his feet into the floor, even though his body wants to shrink back. 

Jungkook takes in another step. 

“Did you make yourself believe that I was gentle? That I was caring?” 

Jimin’s resolve crumbles when Jungkook leans in, his instincts winning over, and he slowly retreats, taking a step back every time Jungkook takes one forward. He’s stalking closer and closer, pupils narrow like those of a predator.  When Jimin’s back hits the door, his breath hitches, his heart surging into his throat. 

“I’m none of these things,” Jungkook says, his voice low, the flash in his eyes dangerous. “And you know that.” He’s so close now that Jimin has to crane his neck to look at him. “So why are you surprised now? You know I’m not gentle, I’m not kind, I’m not nice, I’m not caring—” 

Jimin swallows, his throat too dry. 

“Yeah, you’re just a gigantic asshole,” he rasps. 

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch upwards. 

“Very bold for someone whose heart is beating so fast.” He leans closer, his hot breath fanning over Jimin’s face. “For someone who smells so scared.” 

His emerald eyes travel over Jimin’s face, and then lower, over the length of Jimin’s body, every inch that’s being touched by his gaze suddenly burning under Jimin’s clothes. When their eyes find each other again, a slow grin forms on Jungkook’s lips. He runs his tongue over one of his canines and at the sight alone a hot rush starts up in Jimin’s ears. He has a hard time looking at the other. Something about him is so overpowering in a terrifying kind of way. It’s hard to look at him and still—Jimin can’t look away.

His sight goes all blurry when Jungkook plants his palm against the door beside Jimin’s head and leans in, bringing his face to his neck, inhaling deeply, his nose gracing Jimin’s throat, all the way up to his ear. 

“Or is your heart beating so fast for other reasons, Jiminie?” He says painfully softly, a whisper that has Jimin’s toes curl. 

As if on command, heat pools in his stomach, his heart hammering beneath his ribs. He brings his hands up in an attempt to push the other off, but instead his fingers tangle in the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt, holding on. 

“Jungkook,” he warns and curses himself when it comes out a lot more breathless than intended.

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook chuckles, taking another deep breath right below Jimin’s ear, and Jimin wonders what he smells right now. Does he smell the hot pull in his belly? Does he smell the spike of excitement mixing with the nervous tension? Does he smell the goosebumps traveling down Jimin’s spine when his breath tickles Jimin’s skin? 

Jungkook shuffles closer, trapping Jimin’s hands, which are still holding on to his shirt, between their chests and takes another breath. 

Jimin’s fingers twitch when he feels the rapid thrum of Jungkook’s heart against his palm. 

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” He asks, wanting it to sound smugly but instead it sounds just as breathless as before. 

At least, this time, when Jungkook exhales next to his ear, his breath is shaky too.

“Just thought about something,” he murmurs.  

“About what?”

“About what my name might sound like when you come.”

Desire hits Jimin like a punch to the stomach, so hard that his knees go weak. Involuntarily his fingers curl further in Jungkook’s shirt, a small embarrassing sound leaving his throat – a helpless high-pitched hitch of breath. 

At his reaction, Jungkook pulls back with a small knowing smile. His eyes wander to Jimin’s lips, before snapping back up. 

“Wanna show me?” 

Yes— Jimin thinks, all-consumed by those emerald eyes.

He opens his mouth. 

No! 

He snaps it shut again, only for his lips to part once more a second later. 

It’s hard to think with the loud rush in his ears and Jungkook’s burning gaze on him. Jimin’s skin is warming up rapidly under it and he feels like he’s about to melt, a heated sensation spreading throughout his body, centering between his legs. 

The images of what could be flashing through his mind aren’t helping. 

He squirms, the thick tension in his lower belly increasing, tightening. 

The low growl that’s suddenly vibrating against his palm makes him stop his hips. 

Wait. 

Jimin freezes.

What?

Of course, Jungkook has caught on to Jimin’s little unwitting ruts against his thigh, which somehow at some point has made its way between Jimin’s legs. His fingers tangle in Jimin’s hair just above his nape, claws scraping over his scalp as he pulls his head back.

“You’re pushing your luck again,” he warns and leans in, his warm lips brushing Jimin’s fleetingly, a touch that makes Jimin’s heart stop for a second. 

Holy shit. Jimin’s lips fall open when the other shifts his thigh upwards, pressing it harder into Jimin’s half hard crotch and Jimin’s breath hitches loudly. The sound makes Jungkook’s eyes darken.

“You know that I’ve been wanting to rip your fucking clothes off and fuck you until you’re screaming for fucking years,” he growls and another helpless whimper falls from Jimin’s lips at the crude words. Fuck. “I’m a fucking dragon and my self-control is running very fucking thin. If you don’t stop rubbing against me, you’re gonna end up on your back under me. Do you understand?” 

Embarrassment makes Jimin’s face glow hot but he just can’t seem to stop his hips and he also can’t help but notice that Jungkook’s heart is beating even faster now, a rapid rhythm pounding against Jimin’s palm, Jungkook’s eyes half-lidded, his gaze heavy, the air between them loaded with something electric. The fingers slide from the back of his head slowly, a claw running alongside his jaw, stopping right underneath his chin, tipping it upwards while Jungkook dips his head, their noses bumping, their breaths intermingling. 

“You want it?” Jungkook whispers and Jimin’s mind goes entirely blank.

He leans in. Maybe Jungkook leans in too. 

When their lips slide together for the first time the touch is almost soft, but not even a heartbeat later a sudden urge surges through Jimin, a hunger that needs satisfaction. 

He yanks Jungkook closer by his collar and then the touch of their lips turns into anything but soft. 

It’s hard and bruising and devouring and it takes Jimin’s breath away, makes him dizzy, winds him up tight. Fangs scrape his tongue and lips as their kiss deepens, the world around Jimin fading into a distant blur. There is only Jungkook and his touch and his taste and his intoxicating scent. 

Their fingers weave through each other’s hair, they grasp and pull at each other’s clothes, and Jimin groans quietly when clawed fingertips slide underneath his shirt and up his front, grazing his nipples before coming around and trailing down his back, slipping under the waistband of his pants, dipping even lower, palms cupping his ass, squeezing, pulling him in roughly, the display of strength making Jimin’s toes curl. He digs his fingers into the muscles on Jungkook’s sides, presses himself closer as their tongues slide together harsher, something white and hot curling in his stomach. 

Their breathing grows more and more labored and Jimin gasps into the other’s mouth breathlessly when sharp teeth start nipping his lower lip. Fingers dig into the undercurve of his butt and Jimin’s cock throbs heavily in his pants. He grabs the hem of Jungkook’s shirt and yanks on it clumsily, trying to-

A sudden noise makes him crash back into reality. 

A low buzzing mixing with a familiar melody. 

Their kiss breaks and Jungkook takes a step back, blinking down at him, a small frown between his brows. His lips are red and slightly swollen and Jimin can clearly pinpoint the moment clarity settles into his eyes. They drop to Jimin’s leg. 

Jimin follows his line of sight.

A second later he becomes aware of the vibration in his pocket and recognizes the sound as his phone ringing.

Namjoon’s ringtone. 

He untangles his fingers from Jungkook's shirt.

“It’s Namjoon,” he mumbles, almost shocked by how husky his voice sounds, while reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Godfuckingdammit,” Jungkook curses. “It’s not even eight yet. What the hell does he want?” 

Jimin adjusts his shirt and clears his throat before accepting the call.

“Joon?” 

“Thanks for coming over on such short notice,” Namjoon says while they all take a seat in their living room, Yoongi disappearing into the kitchen to get them something to drink. 

“No worries at all,” Jimin says. 

“Yeah, no worries, impeccable timing,” Jungkook grumbles and Jimin throws him a warning glare. 

Thankfully, Namjoon seems preoccupied with flipping through a folder filled with documents, pulling out sheet after sheet covered in numbers, equations, and hand-written notes, some of them highlighted with different colored pens. 

Jungkook purses his lips when Yoongi comes back from the kitchen, throwing the two glasses of water the other puts in front of them a disapproving look.  

“Do you have anything else?” 

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. “Like what?” 

“Like something sweeter.” 

“He likes orange soda,” Jimin says and Yoongi’s eyebrow wanders even further towards his hairline. 

“Well, we don’t have that.” He looks at Jungkook. “Would coke suffice?” 

Jimin knows that Jungkook isn’t the biggest fan of coke. He says the sweetness is ‘too heavy’, whatever that means. 

The dragon sighs theatrically. “I guess.” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes before making his way back to the kitchen. 

“Okay, so I have good news,” Namjoon starts, still shuffling through the pile of documents on his lap. “At least I think I do,” he adds with a mumble and a frown before he apparently finds the sheet of paper he was looking for. His face lights up as he pulls it out of the pile, placing it right on top, tapping one of the numbers at the very bottom of the page, circled several times with some yellow highlighter pen. He looks at Jungkook.

“Your blood cells didn’t fight the components of the recent antidote prototype as hard as they did the ones before. Some even accepted it. I think—” He looks at Jimin, before his gaze wanders back to Jungkook. 

“I think it’s time to test it on you.” 

Jimin stiffens, the same time as Jungkook, who’s sitting on the couch next to him, does. 

Already?!

“Are— Are you sure it’s already time?” Jimin asks with a frown. “It hasn’t been that long since you started and-” 

“I’m sure,” Namjoon says with a nod before looking down at the file. “These numbers— they’re good. Very good. And I think we’d make progress faster if we tried it on Jungkook right away. See how his body reacts to it and get his blood samples afterwards to analyze what’s happening with his cells.” 

“So you don’t think it’ll work?” Jungkook’s eyes are narrow and he ignores the can of coke Yoongi, who has just come back from the kitchen, puts in front of him. “It’s just for testing purposes?”

Namjoon looks concerned for a moment. “I can’t say for sure— but I don’t think it’ll work this time. I’m sure though, that it’ll move things forward a lot quicker.” 

Jungkook looks unimpressed, with a deep frown on his face, his jaw clenching.

“You agreed to it,” Yoongi points out as he sits down on the armrest of Namjoon’s armchair, almost as if to put himself protectively between his boyfriend and Jungkook. “We warned you about this, remember? That we’ll have to inject you.”

“Again and again and again,” Jungkook says, keeping his gaze locked with Yoongi’s firmly before looking at Namjoon. “I remember. Fine. Do it.” 

Namjoon’s shoulders visibly relax. Jimin, on the other hand, can’t seem to shake the nervousness off. 

“I thought a lot about how to do it and especially where to do it—” Namjoon pauses. “We’ll have to take precautionary measures.”

“What? Because you still think I’d instantly kill you if it works?” Jungkook snorts. 

“Exactly.” Namjoon flips the piece of paper, the backside empty, and pulls out a pen. “Just in case: In dragon form, how big are you?” 

That has Jungkook grin almost wildly. 

“Massive,” he says and leans back, crossing his arms. 

“Could the lab hold you?” Yoongi asks. 

A barked laugh is all it needs for them to understand that – of course – the lab wouldn’t be big enough for a full-grown dragon. A Zelkath at that.

Namjoon scribbles something down. “Do you have a number for me? An estimate? Like— meters? How many meters?” 

Jungkook scoffs. “No idea. That’s nothing I’ve ever concerned myself with. I just know that I’m bigger than any other dragon I’ve ever met.”  

“Thought so,” Namjoon mumbles while taking some more notes before looking up again. “A couple of blocks down from our lab building is a more or less abandoned area with old warehouses. And behind that is a fenced-in field which looks like it was used for private air sports activities once. It seems no longer in use, but still—” He looks at Yoongi. “It would be best to do it at night, right?” 

Yoongi nods. “I haven’t seen anyone there while I was scouting the area, I made my rounds on multiple days. But still, just to make sure there’s no one around who could see us or get hurt,” he glances at Jungkook briefly. “We should attempt it at night.” 

“So, we’ll be somewhere in an open field, inject him with the antidote and— then what?” Jimin asks. 

Namjoon looks at him with a frown. 

“You won’t be anywhere. It’s just gonna be Jungkook and me.” 

“What?!” Jimin asks the very same moment Yoongi does. 

“Who decided that?”

“I did,” Namjoon says.

“No.” Yoongi gets to his feet. “We’ve talked about this. I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!” 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“And I’m coming too!” 

“No,” Yoongi looks at Jimin. “You stay at home.” 

“But why?!”

“He’s coming.” 

Everyone is turning to look at Jungkook, who’s sitting on the sofa, still leaning back with his arms crossed.

“And if you don’t want him to get hurt,” Jungkook smiles sweetly. “You won’t try anything funny.” 

Jimin tenses. He’s not surprised but this still doesn’t sit right with him at all. 

“I’m not your fucking collateral,” he hisses. 

The way Jungkook looks at him seems almost bored. “You are.” 

Namjoon’s jaw clenches. “Listen-” 

“This is exactly why you need me to come,” Yoongi hisses. “He’s not safe to be around alone!” 

“What would you even do if he starts attacking us?!” 

At that, Yoongi snaps his mouth shut and frowns deeply. 

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his temple. “Okay, fine, you can all come. But you’ll keep your distance!” 

“Great!” Jungkook claps his hands and the loud sound has them all jump. “When are we gonna do this? Tonight?” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “Not tonight, I still need to get some stuff ready. What about tomorrow night?” 

“Don’t have any plans,” Jungkook says with a shrug. “The sooner the better.” 

When they get back to Jimin’s apartment a while later, the atmosphere is strangely tense.

Maybe it’s the uncertainty about what will happen tomorrow that’s looming over them. The knowledge that everything could change tomorrow. Maybe it’s also the fact that standing here in the hallway, Jimin is very clearly reminded of what happened earlier before they left. Before he got Namjoon’s call. 

He tries not to think about it as he kicks his shoes off. He tries not to remember the feeling of Jungkook’s claws on his skin, tries to forget the sensation of his lips on his throat, tries to ignore the way Jungkook keeps lingering close to him while he puts their food from earlier in the microwave. 

They eat in silence but every now and then Jimin feels that intense stare on him and he knows Jungkook is thinking about it too. 

It’s good that they were interrupted though. 

Jimin is glad that they didn’t go any further.

After all that happened, he’s once again reminded how dangerous Jungkook is and that this is not a safe situation to be in. Jimin absolutely has to be more careful. A fuck-up like earlier— that can’t happen again. If he wants to help Jungkook and make it out alive at the same time, he really needs to get his shit together. 

Jungkook chuckles knowingly when Jimin excuses himself to the bathroom right after he’s finished his dinner, taking a shower and then getting ready for bed right away. 

“Isn’t it a bit early?” The dragon questions him from the threshold of the living room when Jimin hurries past him in his pajamas. 

“Nope,” is all Jimin answers before fleeing to his room and slamming the door shut. 

The thing about the poison is, the earlier you take it, the earlier it will wake you up. 

At least that’s how Jimin experiences it. Now that he’s taking only small doses of it he usually wakes up around the time the poison has left his system, leaving only the sweet taste behind. 

And because he took the poison and went to bed so early, he’s now lying in his bed wide awake and it’s only four in the morning. Basically the middle of the night. 

He stares up at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of the TV filtering in from the living room and he wonders if Jungkook is usually awake during this time or if it’s because tonight he can’t sleep either. Is he thinking about tomorrow too? Is he excited? Is he nervous? He didn’t seem too pleased about the fact to get something injected that doesn’t have a high chance of being successful but the fact they are making progress so quickly must please him, right? 

Jimin wonders if Jungkook, secretly, has his hopes up that it will work. Namjoon said the chances are slim but not zero. 

And what if it does. 

What if it works? 

What if, in less than 24 hours, Jungkook will be able to shift back to his dragon form?

If they’re unlucky, he’ll kill them all. 

If they’re really unlucky, he’ll destroy the entire city. 

Jimin briefly closes his eyes, trying not to panic at the thought. 

It’ll be fine. 

Something deep inside him tells him that Jungkook really just wants to go home. He won’t kill them. He’s just gonna leave. 

Jimin opens his eyes again.

He’s just gonna— leave.

With a heavy sigh he rolls on his side under the covers, pressing his cheek into the pillow, locking his eyes on the door in the dim moonlight. 

Not even once did Jungkook step through it. 

Not once did he try to come into his room during the past weeks he’s been staying here. 

Jimin told him his room is off limits and that was it. Jungkook has respected the rule ever since, has not made a fuss about it at all. 

And Jimin should be glad. He should be glad that he has a safe space here. A place of retreat. 

But right now, for some reason, he wishes he would hear Jungkook’s footsteps coming closer, wishes he would see the doorknob turning, wishes the door would open, wishes Jungkook would come in and—

And what?

Jimin takes a deep breath but it doesn’t keep his heart from beating faster. 

Suddenly, there is this dangerous kind of longing flaring up inside him. A sensation that makes his chest and belly tighten as he remembers the brush of Jungkook’s lips against his own, the heat of his tongue in his mouth, strong hands grabbing him, pulling him in— 

Now that he knows Jungkook could be gone by tomorrow, gone forever, Jimin is longing for another forbidden moment like that. He wants to feel that heat again. He wants— He wants Jungkook. 

He wants him at least once.

Maybe that longing will go away after that. 

Maybe it’s nothing but curiosity, maybe it’s simply lust, maybe it’s the thrill of the forbidden. 

It’s most definitely a bad idea.

Jimin knows that.

He knows it’s a bad idea when he throws the covers back and gets up.

He knows he’s driven by a reckless impulse when he opens the door and makes his way through the darkness towards the living room, following the cool-toned flickering light of the TV. 

He knows it’s a mistake when he steps over the threshold and he knows he’s absolutely doomed when emerald eyes find his.

For a short moment, less than a heartbeat, Jungkook looks almost surprised to see him. But then his nostrils flare and his parted lips curl into a knowing smile, something dark settling in his gaze with which he looks Jimin up and down from where he’s sitting on the couch, illuminated by nothing but the flickering light of the TV.

Even though he’s clothed, Jimin feels exposed. The action alone of coming here makes him feel open and raw and vulnerable and very embarrassed. The fact that Jungkook can most likely smell everything that’s going on inside him has his face heat up more, with every second it gets worse and he kind of wants to turn around and leave but the heavy weight of those eyes on him keeps him firmly pinned in place. 

He jumps when Jungkook speaks up. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

A nonchalant question. Innocent almost. The look in his eyes is anything but.

Jimin shrugs, his throat too dry for any words to form and his heart skips a beat when, after a moment, Jungkook reaches out for him.

“Come here.” 

His voice is dark and gruff and Jimin’s legs feel like jelly when he slowly steps closer, captivated by that beautiful deep emerald green, lured in like prey. When long fingers encircle his wrist he momentarily freezes but then he lets the other pull him closer.

“Sit down,” Jungkook purrs and pats the spot next to him. His blanket and pillow are resting on the armchair in the corner, just as neatly folded as the day before. He hasn’t slept yet. 

Jimin sinks down on the couch and immediately, Jungkook’s arm finds its way around his waist, his fingers digging into a spot right above his hip bone as he pulls Jimin in. With the other hand he reaches for the remote to mute the TV and somehow the sudden silence that falls over the room is a lot louder than the fight scene on screen before. It makes Jimin even more nervous, his heart going wild, almost jumping out of his chest when Jungkook turns to look at him, drawing him even closer. 

The light of the TV throws dancing shadows across the walls, and even though it’s illuminating only one side of Jungkook’s face, while the other lies in the dark, both of his eyes glow at the same intensity as they seem to stare Jimin down, as they drop to his lips, lingering there for a moment, before looking back up. 

“So?” He asks, leaning closer and Jimin’s hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt and the long silky strands of hair draping over it.

“So?” He throws the question back with an embarrassing squeak in his voice. 

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth quirk into a surprisingly soft smile.

“Why are you here?” 

The air between them is thick with anticipation and tension and something else, something that pulls Jimin in.

That’s a good question. 

A question Jimin can’t answer. Or rather—A question he doesn’t want to answer. He just wants—

His gaze drops to Jungkook’s lips, which are slightly parted, the tips of his canines peeking out. 

He just wants. 

The tip of a clawed finger nudges his chin up, forcing him to look Jungkook in the eyes again.

“Jimin, why are you here?” Jungkook repeats, his eyelids heavy. 

Jimin’s lips part as he tries to fill his lungs with air, anticipation making every nerve in his body tingle until he can’t bear it any longer. He surges forward and it almost feels like relief when their lips crash together, parting, their tongues meeting in a hot kiss. 

Jungkook tastes of the orange soda that’s sitting on the coffee table, of the sun and of a burning fire. Jimin presses himself closer, surging heat spreading inside him at the feeling of Jungkook’s lips moving against his own, his tongue in his mouth, his arm around him, his palm cupping his jaw. 

Their breathing grows labored as their kiss turns more and more intense, their noses bumping, their teeth biting and nipping, everything feels hot and Jimin is painfully aware that he’s growing hard very quickly, the heat in his lower belly centering, his thighs clenching. 

He feels Jungkook’s arms tense around him and with a soft groan the dragon pulls back to look at him, his expression intense and dark and dangerous. 

Jimin’s eyes go wide when a hand takes hold of his throat, sharp claws running over his skin. Jungkook doesn’t squeeze, but Jimin knows he could snap his neck effortlessly.

"You're playing with fire, human."

He leans in, his lips grazing over Jimin’s cheek, soft and warm, wandering slowly to his ear. Heat pools in Jimin’s stomach when they press to a spot right below his jaw, a strand of silky black hair brushing against his neck.

"I know," he whispers, his fingers curling on Jungkook’s shoulders.

The other pulls back, his emerald eyes burning into Jimin.

"I don't think you do," he growls. "It's not just any fire you're playing with."

But Jimin does know.

"Dragon fire," he breathes.

More dangerous, more lethal.

"Indeed." Suddenly, Jungkook’s clawed thumb presses into Jimin’s bottom lip, his gaze fixated on the spot. “You’ll burn yourself, Jimin. It’ll hurt.”

Jimin's mind is soaring, his blood rushing in his ears and everything is hot, everything is overwhelming.

More, he thinks. He wants more of this heat. He wants—

His heart is thundering in his throat.

“I don’t care,” he whispers.

“You don’t care?”

"Make me burn."

Jimin has never had anyone come onto him this strong before. 

Jungkook’s every action is rough and possessive, his hands and lips are everywhere, gliding over Jimin’s skin hotly, leaving trails of heat, no part of his body staying untouched. 

It’s a fire that catches, that has Jimin burn with hot vigor.

He’s almost ashamed by how quickly he rips his own clothes off between rough kisses, before moving on to do the same with Jungkook’s. 

The other doesn’t complain and within the blink of an eye they’re both completely naked, their hands finding each other’s bodies again, their tongues slipping inside each other’s mouths, their breathing loud and heavy in the otherwise silent room. Jimin feels dizzy with the overwhelming heat of Jungkook’s naked body on him, with his scent and his taste. His heart is racing, an aching need pulsing through his belly. 

When Jungkook pushes him down into the couch with a large hand on his throat and pulls back to look down at him, Jimin is overcome with a sudden sense of underlying fear. Jungkook really does look like a predator. His eyes glowing in the dark, his pupils contracting to nothing but thin slits as he takes Jimin in. 

His presence is overwhelming and he’s so fucking hot. Drool pools in Jimin’s mouth at the sight of Jungkook’s ripped abdomen and those sexy veins above his groin, the V-lines leading to his cock, which stands thick and hard and fucking beautiful. The muscles in his arms bulge, the tattoos on one side shifting, when he increases the pressure on Jimin’s throat before leaning in, running the pink tip of his tongue over his sharp canines.

“I gotta say,” he murmurs. “You’re probably the prettiest human I’ve ever seen.” 

Jimin’s breath hitches when the long fingers unwrap from his throat and Jungkook’s knuckles glide down to his collarbone instead. He feels them tracing it softly before they suddenly turn into claws. He bites his lower lip when the sharp tips of all five fingers slide down to his pecks oh so slowly and his back arches when they scratch over his nipple before wandering towards his stomach, slowly, almost gently, feather light and yet so dangerous, dragging it out and leaving goosebumps behind, making Jimin’s abs clench. 

“Pretty like a doll,” Jungkook mumbles and Jimin bites his tongue to suppress a whimper when a single claw runs over the underside of his cock, his toes curling. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook leans in, his breath hot on Jimin’s lips. “And all for me to wreck.”

Jimin yelps when he’s suddenly grabbed by the hips and manhandled around, until his back hits the backrest of the couch. 

By the time he’s realized that he’s half-lying and half-sitting against the firm cushions, Jungkook’s long silky hair is already tickling his collarbone, then his chest, then his abs, then the softness of his lower belly, and finally the insides of his thighs as the dragon kisses and sucks his way down Jimin’s front, until he sinks to the floor between his spread legs. 

And even though he’s technically on his knees for Jimin, even from down there his presence is so overwhelming that Jimin doesn’t even try to fool himself into thinking he has any kind of power here. Hungry eyes rake over his naked body, from his pebbled nipples down his stomach to his hard cock resting heavy against it. It throbs in anticipation right in front of the other’s heated gaze and Jimin bites his tongue in embarrassment.

Jungkook’s lips, swollen and red from kissing, quirk into a grin, before his palms glide over Jimin’s legs, hooking under the hollow of his knees with a bruising grip to spread him further apart, forcing his hips into a bend. Jimin’s face burns even hotter when Jungkook’s gaze drops down there, only briefly, before he looks up at Jimin again from under his lashes, his eyes looking a lot darker like this. 

“You said you want to burn. Do you like it when it hurts, Jimin?” 

His voice is low and gravely and Jimin’s leg twitches when he turns his head and presses his hot lips to the inside of his thigh, his heartbeat quickening when those lips slowly part, sharp canines gracing the sensitive flesh.

A soft whimper escapes his throat and Jungkook pauses, his eyes finding Jimin’s, gauging his reaction while he slowly increases the pressure, his teeth digging further into Jimin’s flesh. 

Jimin knows he will break skin if he lets him. 

A hot thrill travels up his spine, his cock jumping against his stomach and Jungkook’s eyes darken at the reaction. He gives Jimin another long look, waiting for him to say something, to do something to stop him, but Jimin doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. Instead, he presses the back of his hand against his lips when another whimper makes his way up his throat. 

With a sound that’s a mix of a low moan and a growl Jungkook tightens his grip around his leg, his tongue pressing against Jimin’s skin for a second, before the piercing pain of his canines sinking into his flesh shoots through Jimin’s leg like a surge of electricity. 

The sensation has Jimin’s back arch, a loud moan falling from his lips, muffled by his own hand, his other hand curling in the cushions while his toes curl in the air as the pain shoots straight into his groin, making something inside him tighten, his cock straining and jumping, a bead of wetness forming at the tip.

When Jungkook pulls his teeth out Jimin expects blood to run from the wound but there is almost none. The little bit that does come is lapped up by a hot tongue, right before Jungkook moves on and brings his lips to the other thigh, sucking a harsh bruise into the same spot that he bit on the other side before wandering further, his tongue gliding over Jimin’s skin hotly, sending violent tremors through Jimin’s body.

The rapid beating of his heart makes it hard to breathe, the wound on his thigh pulsing in the same rhythm. He lets his hand fall from his lips to reach between his legs and push Jungkook’s hair out of the way to see what he’s doing. His throat goes dry when their eyes meet once more. There is a hint of a flush in Jungkook’s cheek, his lips pausing at the sensitive juncture between Jimin’s inner thigh and groin. When they slowly part, Jimin tenses, his pulse thundering in his throat, his fingers tangling in the other’s hair.

This time when Jungkook bites, the pain is a lot more intense. Jimin slaps his hand in front of his mouth again to muffle his scream, his legs jerking in the air, his sight going blurry, his cock leaking a long steady stream of pre-cum onto his belly while his hole clenches. 

Jungkook chuckles hotly against his skin, lapping up the blood. 

“You do like it when it hurts.” 

He gives Jimin’s hipbone a nip and then his parted lips glide upwards and over the length of Jimin’s cock, all the way to the tip. Jimin’s thigh clench, a broken moan leaving him. 

“Is it really the pain or is it the danger that gets you high like this?” Jungkook asks while gently biting into the softness of Jimin’s lower tummy, before wandering further up, Jimin’s legs ending up on his shoulders. By the time Jungkook’s lips are on his neck, Jimin is quite literally bent in half, his inner thighs straining.

“Is it the fact that I could kill you right now?” Jungkook whispers against the spot where Jimin’s pulse is going wild, his teeth scraping over it soon after. “Hm?” He pulls back to look at Jimin. “Is that what turns you on?” 

“You wouldn’t kill me,” Jimin whispers, his hands reaching up to pull Jungkook in by his hair, crashing their lips together. Their kiss is hard and messy, tasting a bit of copper, and it leaves Jimin breathless.

“You still need me,” he pants against the other’s mouth.

Jungkook chuckles. “For now, all I need is your ass.”

Jimin pushes against his shoulders. “Get on with it then.” 

That has Jungkook laugh harder but there is a dangerous expression flashing through his eyes, something that makes Jimin’s heart beat faster, something that reminds him that Jungkook is a predator. And Jimin is his prey.

While Jungkook slides lower until he’s kneeling on the floor between Jimin’s legs again, anticipation has adrenaline surge through Jimin’s veins. He wills himself not to look away when the other holds him open by his thighs, pushing his legs up, his claws digging into his flesh as he leans in, his hot breath hitting Jimin’s cock. Jimin braces himself, his length twitching in anticipation.

“Hold your legs,” Jungkook mumbles and Jimin doesn’t even think twice as he complies, hooking his hands under the hollow of his knees to keep his legs up and spread. 

“Good.”

That’s all Jungkook says before he suddenly grabs Jimin’s ass with both hands, spreading him apart. 

A choked-up sound leaves Jimin’s throat when cool air hits that spot, which is now completely exposed, right in front of Jungkook. He turns his head in embarrassment, his cheeks hot. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because only a heartbeat later, Jungkook puts his mouth right there.

At the first fleeting touch of tongue, Jimin’s back arches, his lips parting with a loud gasp. 

“Oh f-”

He’s cut off by Jungkook’s tongue brushing over his rim harder, circling it. His mouth falls open with a moan, his sight blurring, his legs jerking in his hold. The slick feeling between his cheek is so intense, so forbidden, it has him bite down on his lower lip with a whine, his cock dribbling even more pre-cum all over his stomach when Jungkook’s tongue pushes inside. 

It’s so hot and so deep. 

Jimin has a hard time breathing, nothing but helpless pants leaving his mouth while his hole contracts around the tongue inside him. 

Others have done this to him before but this— this is different. 

Jungkook is really in there and quite literally eating Jimin out, his claws digging into his ass cheeks as he pulls them further apart to get even deeper, apparently not at all embarrassed by the filthy wet noises his tongue makes driving in and out of Jimin.

Jimin’s body jerks, every muscle contracting, the pleasure inside him growing and swelling and soon he’s not able to stifle the desperate sounds anymore. High-pitched gasps and strangled moans echo through the room, his entire body burning hotter and hotter with every flick of tongue.

“Oh God—” Jimin moans and brings both of his hands down to fist Jungkook’s hair, his legs resting in the crook of his arms as he tries to pull Jungkook even closer, to get his tongue even deeper with desperate rolls of hips, his hole pulsing, his cock twitching. Soon his legs start trembling in the air, his core all hot and tight, his head thudding against the backrest when something familiar throbs heavily in his lower stomach.

Holy shit, he’s gonna come from this. 

He unhooks one of his arms from under his leg to bring his hand to his cock, jerking it with hard and quick strokes, his precum making the glide smooth but embarrassingly loud and messy. 

Jungkook looks up at him, his eyes burning like fire on Jimin’s skin, and when he moans at the sight of Jimin’s pleasure the sound vibrates through his tongue, sending little shocks of energy through every muscle in Jimin’s body and Jimin chokes at the feeling, speeding up his hand on his cock while the other tries to yank Jungkook closer by his hair, his entire body shaking and he can’t keep the leg that’s not resting on his arm anymore up in the air. It jerks and strains and slowly sinks down, but before it can hit Jungkook’s shoulder, it’s grabbed by a strong hand and pushed back up. 

Jungkook’s claws run over his skin and Jimin mewls at the sensation, his sight blurring, his back arching, the wet slapping sound of his hand fisting his cock mixing with a loud building rush in his ears. 

“Fuck—” He gasps, his lower belly tightening so hard it almost hurts. “Yes, yes—” 

The heat grows unbearable and his body jolts when everything constricts.

“Gonna come—” He whispers and then everything explodes. 

He sobs, his thighs trembling uncontrollably when his release rushes through him, blinding him, making his mind swim. 

He can feel the hot wetness of his cum hitting his stomach and chest, running through his shaky fingers as he keeps jerking himself through it, his hole clenching down on Jungkook’s tongue in rhythmic flutters as he comes and comes and comes, shaking violently with each spurt, squeezing his cock tighter as he rides it out slowly. 

When it’s over, Jimin's stomach is covered in cum and Jungkook doesn’t even wait for his breathing to even out.

The last aftershocks are still coursing through Jimin’s body when the other pulls back, reaching between his legs, fisting his cock with quick strokes as he gets up and onto the couch, knees digging into the cushion on either side of Jimin’s torso. 

“Open up,” he growls breathlessly. There is a wild look in his eyes, his lips red and swollen as he guides the wet tip of his cock to Jimin’s mouth. 

With a moan Jimin lets his lips fall open, his tongue lolling out obediently. 

“Yes,” Jungkook groans, tapping his cock against the flat of Jimin’s tongue, leaving a taste of precum behind. “Wider.” 

Jimin opens his jaw further and an airy moan leaves him when Jungkook pushes into his mouth, his cock rubbing along his tongue until he hits the back of Jimin’s throat. Then he pulls back slowly, before pushing inside again. 

From underneath his lashes, Jimin can see that the other’s eyes are locked on Jimin’s lips stretching around his girth, his chest rising and falling heavily and Jimin wants to touch his nipples so badly but he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. 

He startles when Jungkook’s eyes meet his. The dragon momentarily stops his movement, just the tip of his cock remaining in Jimin’s mouth, and even though his cheeks are flaming hot, Jimin starts suckling on it, circling his tongue around it, slowly bringing his hands up to glide them over Jungkook’s thighs. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken and he licks his lips before he starts moving his hips again. Slowly at first, then faster and harder, until he’s hitting the back of Jimin’s throat again, fucking into his mouth in a steady rhythm and Jimin chokes on it, tears springing in his eyes, his sight blurring, his fingers digging into the muscles of Jungkook’s thighs to hold on to something. 

“Come on, take it all, Jimin,” Jungkook pants, planting one of his hands on top of the backrest behind Jimin, the other one cupping Jimin’s cheek, his thumb swiping over the stretched corner of Jimin’s mouth, where drool is slipping out. “I’m sure you can.” 

Jimin can. He’s good at this. 

He brings his hands around to grab Jungkook by his ass, yanking him in roughly, forcing his length deeper into his mouth. 

Jungkook chuckles, something dangerous flashing through his eyes. 

“Good.” 

When he starts picking up the pace again, Jimin breathes through his nose, trying to relax his throat, trying to accommodate. Jungkook is big and it takes a while, but finally he’s able to let him sink deeper, taking him further and further, until his balls hit Jimin’s chin.

“That’s it,” Jungkook breathes above him.

And then he grabs Jimin’s hair and really starts fucking his throat. 

Jimin digs his fingers harder into the globes of Jungkook’s ass, can feel the muscles there tensing and relaxing rhythmically with each thrust. There is a lot of wet gagging and choking going on, tears streaming down Jimin’s face, drool running down his chin. 

With great difficulty he glances up at Jungkook. The other has his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and Jimin takes in his exposed neck and the way his lips fall open when Jimin moans around his length, revels in the way his hips stutter slightly and in the low moan that follows right after.

Excitement surges through Jimin, straight to his cock.

Holy shit, this is hot. 

Seeing Jungkook like this, vulnerable almost, has Jimin feeling daring. Slowly he brings his hands to Jungkook’s front, sliding them up over his abs towards his chest, where he gives both nipples a squeeze.

Jungkook’s eyes fly open as his hands fly to his chest, grabbing Jimin by his wrists. But he’s not pushing his hands off. Instead, he holds them there, secures them in place, looking down at Jimin with a flush in his cheek and parted lips, his hair slightly disheveled where Jimin has pulled on it earlier.

He likes it. 

There is a tingle in Jimin’s spine and in his stomach at the revelation, his hips lifting off the couch, bucking up into the air. The groan that leaves him vibrates around Jungkook’s cock and the answering moan from Jungkook has him do it again. And again. He pinches the other’s nipples once more and Jungkook’s jaw strains. He exhales loudly through his nose, his eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. 

Then one of his hands drops down to grab the back of Jimin’s head, his fingers tangling in Jimin’s hair to hold him in place as he speeds his hips up again, fucking his throat relentlessly. Every now and again he pulls out completely, just for a couple of seconds, to give Jimin time to suck in breaths of air, before he plugs his mouth again, picking up the rhythm, all the while Jimin keeps rubbing and squeezing his chest. 

Until Jungkook pushes his hand off, guiding it down. 

“You better get yourself ready, Jimin, because once I’ve come all over that face, I’m gonna fuck that ass of yours,” he pants breathlessly. “And I’m almost there, so hurry up.” 

Jimin whines, his belly clenching at the crude words. Without a second thought he runs his fingers through the mess on his stomach, before bringing them further down between his legs, pressing them against his rim, which is still soft and relaxed from Jungkook licking it earlier. 

He pulls his knees in and doesn’t even try to hold back the loud moan when he slides two fingers inside himself easily. 

The way he opens himself up is quick and messy, his hole sucking his fingers in greedily, the way he’s being filled from both sides making him shudder with pleasure. 

“You like that, huh?” Jungkook grins, but there is a strain in his voice and when he briefly looks over his shoulder, down between Jimin’s legs, his cock twitches in Jimin’s throat. Jimin can tell he’s almost there.

“You’ll need more fingers than that, Jiminie,” he says when he turns around again but only a moment later, his hips stutter, his gasps getting louder. “Shit—” He pants, his knees sliding on the cushion, his hands flying to the backrest to hold on as he presses all the way into Jimin’s throat, until Jimin’s nose is digging into his pelvis. His cock throbs heavily inside Jimin’s throat and swallowing around it once is all it needs. 

“Fuck—” Jungkook gasps, pulling out, grabbing his wet cock, jerking it only twice before he comes with a breathless groan and a full-body shudder all over Jimin’s face, hot cum landing on Jimin’s cheek, covering his nose, his chin and his open lips. The last drops clinging to the tip of his cock Jungkook wipes off on Jimin’s tongue that Jimin sticks out greedily.

Jimin blinks to look up at the other. Jungkook’s chest is heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his usual thin slits of pupils blown wide with lust. 

Jimin’s heart is racing, the taste of Jungkook’s cum in his mouth making him all dizzy. When the other reaches out to collect his cum on Jimin’s face with his fingers, Jimin lets him, watching as Jungkook brings the mess to his cock, which is still fully hard. 

“Turn around,” Jungkook says as he slides off the couch, slicking himself up while doing so. 

It takes a while for Jimin’s brain to reconnect with his body and for his limbs to move. When he’s finally able to turn around, his entire body feels like jelly. But there is a new wave of tension building up inside him, a feeling of anticipation and nervousness that’s making him dig his fingers into the backrest of the couch as he leans his chest against it, the cushions under his knees soft but firm. 

Like this, he has a view over the rest of the room, glowing in the flickering light of the TV that’s still running on mute. The desk and computer in the corner, the dining table in front of the large window— When he angles his head, he can even see that the halfmoon is still glowing outside, but the sky isn't pitch black anymore, the tiniest slither of morning breaking the darkness.

The sound of Jungkook’s hand slicking himself up has stopped by now and anticipation has Jimin’s toes curl. 

When nothing happens, he turns to look over his shoulder. 

Jungkook is standing there behind him, taking him in, his gaze glued to his butt. When he looks up and their eyes meet, he licks his lips. 

“Last chance to run away.”

For a short moment Jimin thinks he’s joking, until he realizes that he isn’t. 

He’s giving him an out. 

But Jimin doesn’t run away. 

He doesn’t do anything except exhaling shakily before pressing his upper body to the backrest while bringing his hands back, grabbing himself, pulling his cheeks apart, still looking over his shoulder at Jungkook, whose jaw visibly clenches at the display in front of him. 

“I'm not running,” Jimin whispers. 

And that seals his fate. 

His hands are pushed away and he has just enough time to hold on to the couch again before a stinging slap lands on his ass. He cries out in a mix of surprise and pain, his belly clenching, a bead of wetness collecting at the tip of his cock. 

His heart is hammering wildly in his throat, beating so fast that he can hear it in his ears when he’s grabbed by one cheek, which is pulled to the side, followed by the sensation of Jungkook’s hot and wet tip pressing against his rim. 

The sensation of a palm sliding up his back has Jimin’s shoulder tense, and then he’s grabbed by his nape and pinned against the back of the couch rather roughly. Jimin’s toes curl at the display of dominance. He realizes that right now his life is entirely in Jungkook’s hand. And it’s so fucking intoxicating. The tension in the air is so thick, he can almost taste it, and his lips fall open when the hot pressure against his rim increases. 

“Fuck—” Jungkook mumbles. “You have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” 

Heat ripples through Jimin’s body like lightning when Jungkook starts pushing inside, his sight blurring.

“You know, Jimin—” Jungkook breathes heavily. “Back then I really didn’t know whether I wanted to kill you or fuck you.” Jungkook slides into him slowly and gradually, further and further, his grip on Jimin’s neck tightening and Jimin trembles under his hold, feeling breathless and already very very full, even though Jungkook isn’t even all the way inside yet. 

“In the beginning—In the beginning I definitely just wanted to kill you.”

He groans and Jimin bites his lower lip with a groan himself, his fingers flexing around the backrest as Jungkook stretches him, wider and wider, accompanied by a slow burn. 

Fuck, he’s so big.

“I started dreaming about it,” Jungkook continues, his voice breathless. “And in my dreams— in my dreams I always made it quick.” He curls his fingers around Jimin’s neck, his claws digging into his skin, making Jimin’s stomach swoop.

“Even though I wanted you to fucking suffer.” 

At the last word Jungkook slams his hips forward, seating himself fully inside Jimin with one hard thrust that punches all air out of Jimin’s lungs. His mouth falls open with a loud sob, his back arching. 

Jungkook grabs him by his waist to hold him in place, his other hand increasing the pressure on his nape. He groans deeply and Jimin whimpers, all dizzy and overwhelmed, feeling the other’s cock throbbing inside him. 

When Jungkook pulls his hand from his neck and rakes his claws down his back instead, his cock pressing right against that spot, Jimin’s thighs start shaking, shocks of pleasure zapping through him. 

He rests his damp forehead against the couch with a moan. 

“I wanted to make you suffer.” Jungkook leans in, his front pressing against Jimin’s heated back, his hair tickling Jimin’s shoulders, both of his hands holding Jimin’s waist now, his breath hot against his ear. “But in my dreams, you never did,” he whispers, before pulling out slowly. 

Jimin whines at the feeling, his hole pulsing and contracting, trying to keep Jungkook’s length inside. 

“It was so fucking frustrating,” Jungkook murmurs, stilling his hips when only the tip of his cock remains inside Jimin, his teeth gracing the shell of Jimin’s ear. “I wanted to see you in as much pain as I was, I wanted to see you on your knees, begging for your life, I wanted to see you fucking cry.” 

He presses a kiss to Jimin’s ear. The gesture is weirdly gentle and paired with those cruel words Jimin finds it particularly brutal. He sobs when Jungkook pushes back inside, slower this time, his thick length rubbing over his prostate. He shudders, his cock jumping between his legs, leaking an obscene amount of precum. 

“But not even in my dreams you were in pain,” Jungkook moans softly once he’s all the way inside again. “Not even in my dreams you were crying and begging. In my dreams I killed you just like that. It was always over so quick.”  

When he pulls out again slowly, it’s as if he pulls all air out of Jimin’s lungs while doing so, leaving him all breathless, gasping for oxygen. 

“And then, one night, I dreamed about fucking you,” Jungkook groans. “I don’t know what did it— But I haven’t stopped having those dreams ever since.”

This time he thrust inside with another harsh snap of hip.

Jimin cries out, his cock throbbing between his legs.

“Because in those dreams you did beg, you did cry, you were on your knees. And do you know what the best part about all that was?” A hot tongue glides over Jimin’s nape and Jimin is burning up. “That you dreamed about it too.” Another nip to his ear. “You did, didn’t you?”

Jimin turns his head so his cheek is squished against the backrest, sucking in air, willing himself not to lose control over his body, not to lose his mind. His sight is foggy, he can only make out the blurry shape of Jungkook above him from the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” he whispers, licking his salty lips. Salty with sweat. And maybe tears. “Yes—” 

Jungkook chuckles.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, Jimin.” His hold on Jimin’s waist tightens, claws scraping over his abdomen. “Today I’ll make your dreams come true.” 

And that’s the end of the conversation.

Jimin loses all track of time when Jungkook really starts fucking him. 

He alternates between doing it maddeningly slowly, sensually almost – circling and grinding his hips into Jimin’s prostate, breathing hotly against ear while holding him secured against his front with both arms around him – and pounding into him quickly, in a messy rhythm, flesh slapping against flesh, his hands everywhere on Jimin’s body, stroking, pressing, holding him down. 

Jimin can’t keep up. Soon, he’s nothing but a whimpering and leaking mess, his entire body shaking, the wet sounds and his own needy moans making his face burn with shame. The sounds of Jungkook’s labored breathing, of Jungkook’s low groans shoot pulsing desire through his stomach, his wet cock whipping up and down in the rhythm of their fucking, the fabric stained with sweat and tears of pleasure where he presses his face against the backrest. 

He’s coiled up tight, burning up, and hyper-aware of everything.

Of the sweat forming between his shoulder blades, the ache in his trembling thighs, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, the pounding in his chest. And of Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. Of Jungkook’s scent, the puffs of Jungkook’s hot breath against his neck, the drag of Jungkook’s cock inside him, the tips of Jungkook’s hair brushing his skin. Of every single spot where their bodies touch and collide.

It feels so fucking good and he props himself up on his elbows for leverage, driving his ass back desperately to meet Jungkook’s thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud in the room and Jimin’s moans get louder too, the hot tension inside his lower belly increases, burning delight rippling through his body each time he drives Jungkook’s cock against his prostate over and over again.

Jungkook presses his chest against Jimin’s back with a loud groan that Jimin can feel inside him, his teeth grazing Jimin’s shoulder as he keeps fucking into him, the slight pain making Jimin’s head swim. He’s high on pleasure, high on lust, his stomach clenching with every touch to his prostate and his knees start sliding under him until he can’t hold himself up any longer. 

Jungkook’s arm comes around his middle to pull his upper body into an upright position before he forces him to shuffle forward on his knees so Jungkook can come up to kneel on the couch behind him, his muscular thighs pressing against the back of his own. The change in position drives the length inside Jimin even further into his sweet spot and he whines, a pleasant shudder running down his spine, his stomach clenching.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. 

With one arm around Jimin’s middle, and the other hand wrapped around Jimin’s throat, he starts grinding into him with long hard movements. Jimin can't fucking breathe and he starts rolling his hips back at the same pace, circling them, driving Jungkook’s thick erection into him at just the right angle. 

The pressure inside him builds, the heat under his skin increasing, and the back of his head connects with Jungkook’s shoulder. He’s so hot, so overwhelmed, precum sliding down his length. He turns to look at the other and his heart skips a beat when their eyes meet. Jungkook’s cheeks are dusted red, his lips parted and his eyes clouded, the look in them less sharp and vicious than usual. 

He’s beautiful. 

Jimin reaches back, his fingers tangling in the long hair at the other’s nape, pulling Jungkook down until their mouths collide in a hungry and breathless kiss, their lips moving in the same sensual rhythm as their hips. Jungkook’s fingers trail over Jimin’s jaw as their kiss deepens, getting more heated, more desperate. An airy moan leaves Jimin’s throat, muffled by Jungkook’s mouth, and the other snaps his hips forward harder, speeding up the pace. He grabs Jungkook’s hair tighter, hears him moan into his mouth, his belly clenching at the sensation of claws trailing down his front before long fingers wrap around his cock.

Only a moment later Jungkook is pounding into him while jerking him off with a flick of wrist, the hand on his cock and the harsh thrusts against his prostate pushing Jimin through searing waves of pleasure. By now they’re not kissing anymore, they’re just panting into each other’s mouth, stealing each other’s breaths away and the tension inside Jimin is building, getting more and more intense, his thighs clenching.

He lets his head fall back against Jungkook’s shoulders once more, the rush in his ears getting louder as he keeps fucking up into Jungkook’s palm, his hand that’s not in Jungkook’s hair taking hold of the other’s lower arm where he can feel the slight shift of muscles as Jungkook keeps jerking him off mercilessly.

Jimin is breathless, burning hot and somewhat out of his mind. Everything is intense and pulled tight and then there is a familiar swell of pleasure right at the pit of his stomach, it’s building violently, rapidly, and Jimin knows he’s almost there. 

He’s gasping for air, his chest rising and falling quickly, and he can feel Jungkook’s cock throb inside him, can tell from the way his thrusts get a bit sloppy that Jungkook is close too. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Jungkook gasps, his forehead dropping to Jimin’s shoulder as he holds on to him tight, fucking him even faster. 

Jimin sobs, his toes curling, his abs contracting—

“Jungkook—” 

And then he completely falls apart as his orgasm slams into him. If Jungkook’s arms wouldn’t hold him up, he would definitely collapse. His entire body jolts and trembles with the release that surges through every vein in his body. He’s burning bright, his back arching, thick spurts of cum spilling all over Jungkook’s hand that’s jerking him through it, his hole clamping down violently on the girth inside him. All he can hear is his own moans and sobs and then Jungkook’s deep groan against the side of his neck as the other tenses around him before coming too, his cock throbbing inside Jimin, his hips grinding into him deeply as he empties himself. 

Both their orgasms go on forever, and when it’s finally over, it takes a while for Jimin’s body to still, for the aftershocks to stop coursing through him. He’s sure he’s never come that hard before.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to fare any better. He’s still holding on to Jimin, his face still pressing into his neck, as his breathing only slowly evens out. Jimin’s heartbeat takes a while to slow down too and when they finally untangle themselves from each other, he feels spent, out of breath, a little fuzzy and very sticky.

They both groan when Jungkook slips out of him, followed by his cum that’s trickling out of Jimin and sliding down his inner thigh. 

He realizes with horror that they totally ruined his couch. He’ll have to get that cleaned. 

The moment Jungkook lets go of him, his legs give out and he sinks down sideways, leaning his shoulder against the backrest.

Maybe draping a blanket over it will suffice for the time being. 

The couch bounces when Jungkook slumps down next to him, sprawling out and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling.

For a moment it’s very quiet, the first rays of sunshine falling through the window, and Jimin wishes they would fall further into the room so they could warm his skin, because suddenly he feels a bit cold.

“Having regrets?” Jungkook asks, turning his head to look at him. 

Jimin takes him in. The tattoos, the slight sheen of sweat on his chest and neck, the muscles along his ribcage. Jimin avers his eyes when they briefly land on his spent cock, still wet and slightly hard. 

Strangely enough— Jimin isn’t sure about having regrets. Maybe it’s because his mind is still a bit fuzzy. Maybe it’s because there’s nothing he can do about it now. It happened. It felt good. It didn’t change anything. 

Right? 

“Maybe a little bit,” he murmurs with a shrug. “Maybe not.” 

Jungkook hums, a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s just about to say something when Jimin interrupts him.

“I think it goes without saying: Not a single word to Namjoon and Yoongi.” 

He would die of embarrassment if they found out about this.

Jungkook snorts. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard you even two floors above, with how loud you were screaming.”

Jimin’s face floods with heat but before he can retort anything Jungkook gets up to his feet, making his way to the door. It takes a second for Jimin’s eyes to unglue themselves from his ass.

“What are you doing?” 

Jungkook stops and looks over his shoulder.

“Gonna take a shower and get ready. Today’s that – what did you call it – ‘inventory’?” 

Jimin groans. Right, he has to be at the shop early this morning to do their monthly stock-taking before opening hours start. And tonight they have to meet up with Namjoon and Yoongi behind those warehouses to test the antidote. 

Suddenly he feels overwhelmed and a little bit sick.

He did not have enough sleep for all that. 

Inventory is always a nightmare but doing it with Jungkook around is literal hell. Especially after what happened only a few hours prior. 

The sexual innuendos just won’t stop. 

First Jungkook makes cum-jokes about the nut butter, which Jimin has to put on the back-order list, that are on the level of a sixth grader. Then he goes on about how unfortunate it is that Jimin’s ‘peach’ isn’t on the list of different peach flavored items, since it, apparently, is one of the “best tasting peaches” Jungkook has ever had. And when Jimin explains to him that the edible cookie dough on their menu is cookie dough that can be eaten raw, Jungkook of course wiggles his brows and asks “Do you know what I wanna eat raw?”.

When Jimin is finally done with the inventory he’s tired and annoyed and has just about time to have a cup of coffee himself, before he has to open up the shop. 

“Shit,” he curses, after taking a mouthful of the bitter liquid. “It’s hot.”

“Did you try blowing?” Jungkook grins at him from across the table.

"Okay, you know what—" Jimin puts his cup down. "If you don't stop, last night won’t ever happen again.” 

Jungkook’s sharp grin stretches ridiculously wide. “So you’re thinking about doing it again?” 

Heat shoots into Jimin’s cheeks. Ah—shit. 

“I don’t,” he lies, dropping his gaze quickly and takes another sip, burning his mouth once more. With another curse he puts the cup down. 

Jungkook chuckles, propping his chin into his palm while stirring his caramel macchiato with the other hand. 

“Why are you embarrassed?” 

“I’m not embarrassed.” 

The other clicks his tongue. “You humans are always so afraid to speak about your desires.” 

Before Jimin knows what’s happening Jungkook has gotten up from his chair and makes his way around the table, sliding into the double seat next to Jimin, throwing an arm around his shoulder. 

“Look, it’s simple.” He leans in and all Jimin can do is do just that. Look. Into his deeply green eyes. “I want to fuck you and you want to fuck me. Easy.” 

Jimin cringes at the words. “Don’t just—say that.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s embarrassing!” 

“I thought you’re not embarrassed.” There is an amused twinkle in his eyes. 

Jimin huffs loudly and turns away, which makes the other chuckle even more. 

“Come on.” He leans in, his breath tickling Jimin’s cheek. “You let go so beautifully last night. Don’t go back to being all uptight now.” 

“Stop it,” Jimin hisses, before shoving the other off of him. “Move. I have to open up.” 

Jungkook sighs. “Always so cruel—” 

Jimin wonders if Jungkook really isn’t nervous at all when they make their way to Namjoon’s lab once the sun has set, or if he’s just hiding it very well. 

Namjoon and Yoongi are already waiting for them there. The plan is to take one last blood sample from Jungkook, then drive to the remote area where they will inject him with the antidote, which may or may not neutralize the suppressants in his blood. 

The streets are quiet around them, most people having retreated to their homes this late on a weekday, the sounds of their shoes on the asphalt bouncing off the walls of the houses around them. It’s relatively warm still but when they leave the densely populated area and reach the outskirts of the city, now surrounded by mostly warehouses and open fields, the wind picks up a bit, sending chills down Jimin’s arms. 

Maybe it’s not just the cool night air, maybe it’s also his nerves. 

Because, unlike Jungkook, Jimin is nervous. Maybe a bit anxious even. 

He has no idea what’s gonna happen tonight, the uncertainty of everything putting him on edge. Is this the end of everything? Once the sun has risen, will Jungkok be gone? Will the city still be standing?  

“You can wait outside, you know.” Jungkook’s voice shakes him out of his thoughts. 

“What?” 

The other doesn’t look at him as they round the corner leading up to the premise where their lab’s building is located. The glow of the streetlights cast a warm amber hue on his face.

“You don’t like it in there,” Jungkook jerks his chin at the building they’re heading to. “You can wait outside.” 

Jimin isn’t necessarily surprised but definitely slightly embarrassed that Jungkook has noticed his— issues with the lab, the memories that come with it and the anxiety the environment induces in him.

He realizes that, right now, Jungkook must smell the nerves on him too and that he’s mistaking it for him being nervous because of the lab. Jimin doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad sign. If Jungkook really doesn’t see any reason for him to be anxious about the outcome of tonight, he surely isn’t planning to harm them. Right? If it works, he would just—he would just leave. 

Jimin hugs his middle. 

“I’m fine,” he says after a moment of silence. “But thank you.” 

Jungkook still isn’t looking at him.

“For what?” He sounds confused. 

“For—” Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know. For looking out for me?” 

Now he feels his eyes on him, but the other stays silent. 

The rest of the way, nobody says a word.

Chapter Text

Shadows creep. And want grows stronger.

Jimin glances at his phone to check if the call is still connected, then back through the windshield at the scene in front of him. His heart is pounding in his throat, his grip around his phone clammy. 

It’s shortly after midnight and it’s hard to make out the shapes of Jungkook, Namjoon and Yoongi in the distance. They almost seem like phantoms in the darkness, all of them clad in black attire, only partially illuminated by the dim moonlight and half-hidden by the shadows of the abandoned warehouse beside them. 

Namjoon and Yoongi forced Jimin to wait in the car under the pretense of needing someone who keeps watch, someone who would immediately be ready to drive, in case something happens. 

Something like Jungkook turning into a dragon and attacking them, for example.

Jimin’s loud snort breaks the silence inside the empty car, almost startling himself. 

This is ridiculous. 

He knows they want to keep him safe but if Jungkook really ends up turning and decides to attack, there is nothing he could do, there’s nothing they could do— He’ll be fucked just as much as them, being a bit further away wouldn’t give him any advantage whatsoever.

“Namjoon will inject it now,” Yoongi’s voice comes through the speakers of his phone, the tinny sound loud in the car, followed by a rustling noise.

“Okay,” Jimin says, swallowing thickly before dropping his phone into his lap, curling both hands around the steering wheel and leaning forward, trying to make out what’s happening over there in the distance. 

He can’t see a fucking thing and he’s dead tired from not getting enough sleep the night before. There is also a familiar kind of restlessness creeping into his bones. His body is craving the poison. 

He narrows his eyes, leaning even closer to the windshield, when he sees one of the shadows moving in the distance, followed by a muffled hiss from his phone. 

“Man, that fucking hurts.”  

“It’s injected,” Yoongi says and Jimin almost feels sick with nervousness, his throat constricting. 

“Step back.”  

He watches as the two smaller shadows step to the side. 

The effects should be almost immediate and Jimin is sure he might faint any moment from how anxious he is, his forehead damp, his nape clammy.

Breathe in, 1, 2, 3… breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… breathe in…, he tells himself, going through the familiar mantra to calm his racing heart. Familiar, even though he hasn’t used it in so long. 

The seconds tick by and it’s silent inside the car, the only sound being the low static noise of the connected call. Jimin feels queasy and uncomfortable. 

Breathe in, 1, 2, 3… breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

He wets his lips. 

Something should’ve happened by now, right? Namjoon said, if it works, there should be a change the moment the antidote hits Jungkook’s bloodstream. 

Jimin glances at the time. It’s been— what? Two minutes already? 

“Well, I don’t feel any different.” He jumps at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice coming through the speakers. “Does that mean I can go home?” 

“Not yet,” he hears Namjoon say, his tone neutral, showing neither relief nor disappointment that it apparently didn’t work. “We’ll wait a bit longer. Just in case.”

“Come on, I’m tired, I didn’t get any sleep last night.” 

Jimin almost chokes on his spit because he knows why Jungkook didn’t get any sleep.

“Jungkook,” he warns before he can stop himself.

There is a short moment of silence. 

“Yes, Jiminie?” The teasing tone makes Jimin’s jaw clench.

“Shut up and do what you’re told.” 

He hears a huff. “Am I at least allowed to sit down?” 

“Sure,” Namjoon says and the tallest shadow lowers itself to the ground, accompanied by a grunt. 

Jimin sighs deeply and leans back in his seat, slowly letting careful relief flood his chest. 

“So—” Jungkook’s tone is nonchalant. “Considering that your dried spunk is all over the couch, do I finally get to sleep in your bed tonight?” 

Jimin almost falls flat on his face while balancing on one leg to pull his shoe off. It’s almost 2 a.m. and they’ve just made it through the door. After waiting behind that abandoned warehouse for over an hour, Namjoon finally decided that it’s safe to assume that the antidote didn’t work. They had to go back to the lab to take some more of Jungkook’s blood before Jimin and Jungkook were finally allowed to head home. 

Jungkook seems completely unfazed by the failure. No matter how hard Jimin tries to find any sign of disappointment or anger in the other’s demeanor, there is none of it. On their way home Jungkook was talking shit and joking around as per usual, almost driving Jimin out of his mind. He’s tired, exhausted, his eyes burning, his body jittery. All he wants to do is drink his dose of poison and sleep. 

“Not a chance,” he huffs at Jungkook’s newest attempt to get under his skin – and into his bed – putting his shoes out of the way and heading towards the living room. 

“Oh, come on,” the other complains as he trails after him. “I don’t wanna sleep in your jizz!” 

Jimin stomps over to the couch and lifts up the first seat cushion. The sight of the milky crusty stains makes his face burn hot and he quickly turns it over, pushing it back into place. 

“There,” he says, while doing the same to the second one. “As good as new.”  He takes a step back with his hands on his hips. 

Jungkook snorts. “Are you serious?” 

“I’ll get something to clean it with tomorrow,” Jimin huffs, turning around and making his way towards the door. He’s absolutely worn out and doesn’t have any energy left to deal with this. 

When Jungkook makes a sound as if he wants to interject again, Jimin quickens his steps. 

“Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

He doesn’t even bother showering. 

After reaching his room he locks his door behind him and immediately tears his clothes off until he’s only in his boxer briefs, shuffling through the room with tired legs and heavy eyelids to get the poison ready before he passes out from exhaustion.

About five minutes later, when he finally snuggles into his pillow, he falls asleep almost immediately.

His slumber is deep and dreamless, relaxing and quiet. 

Until a deafening crash slices through the silence, violently tearing him awake. 

His eyes snap open, his heart pounding in his chest as he lies frozen for a moment, adrenaline surging through his veins, his sight blurry, his mind racing to grasp the source of the noise. His room is draped in darkness, the moonlight struggling to make its way through the curtains and Jimin blinks, trying to clear the fog from his vision, stemming from the poison in his blood, his eyes flicking to the dim glow of his alarm clock. 03:47  

He breathes shallowly, waiting in unsettling silence, listening for any follow-up sounds that might offer his jumbled mind, still half-asleep, a clue as to what’s going on. 

Slowly, reality seeps in, his brain kicking in, his muscles unlocking.

What the hell is Jungkook doing out there?! Did he break something?

With a groan he swings his legs over the edge, his bare feet making contact with the cool floor as he rises from the bed. He sways from the dizziness that immediately follows and needs a moment to get the spinning inside his head under control, before he pads to the door, unlocking it.

“Jungkook—” He starts as he makes his way down the dark hallway towards the living room, the floorboards creaking under his steps, but pauses when he notices that the living room door, which is wide open, reveals nothing but darkness. He expected Jungkook to still be awake with all that noise. “Jungkook?”

As he steps into the room cautiously, he can immediately tell that something is off. 

The first thing he notices is that the window is open, the curtains fluttering gently in the night breeze, moonlight filtering in, casting long shadows across the floor. 

The second thing he notices is a crumpled figure lying on the floor in front of the window, surrounded by a mess of shards and soil that’s scattered all over, as if the window was ripped open without taking Jimin’s potted plants on the windowsill into account. 

The third thing he notices is that the figure is moving. It’s writhing on the floor, trembling, heaving.

Jimin takes a step forward.

What the hell?

A pained groan cuts through the silence and, finally, Jimin’s body jolts into action. 

“Jungkook?!” 

He stumbles across the floor, trying to avoid the shards as he falls to his knees beside the other. 

“What happened?!” 

For a moment his hands hover over the other’s shivering frame, before daring to grab him by his upper arm and turn him on his back. He gasps at how unnaturally cold Jungkook’s skin is, his stomach dropping while his heart surges into his throat.

Jungkook’s eyes are wide, staring straight ahead, his breathing ragged, punctuated by rattling gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His claws dig into the floor on either side of him, clinging to the wood when his back arches, his face contorted with pain, another guttural groan follows, then a soft whimper. 

“Jungkook,” Jimin cups the other’s cheek with a trembling hand, stroking his hair from his forehead, damp with sweat albeit how cold his skin feels. “What’s- Where does it hurt?!” 

Jungkook doesn’t answer, his jaw clenching so hard that Jimin can hear the rows of teeth grinding together, a vein bulging in the side of his neck, pulsing rapidly. 

“Breathe!” Jimin shouts and Jungkook’s lips fall open as he tries to suck in air with rattling gasps before another wave of pain seems to shake him, his eyes wild as a jolt goes through him, his hand connecting with his chest, his fingers starting to claw on his shirt right in the middle of his ribcage, his claws tearing it, ripping his skin open in the process, blood seeping through.

“Stop!” Jimin tries to yank his hand away. “You’re hurting yourself!” It’s to no avail, Jungkook is way too strong. 

“Jungkook,” Jimin grabs the other’s face with both hands, lifting his head up. “Listen! Stop-” His voice breaks when he catches sight of the dark liquid in Jungkook’s left nostril. Only a heartbeat later, blood is leaking from his nose, running over his parted lip, seeping into his mouth, his rapid breathing turning wet. 

The sight propels Jimin into action. 

“Shit!” 

He jumps up, stumbling over his own feet on his way back to his room, knocking over his bedside lamp when he reaches for his phone, dialing Namjoon’s number with shaky fingers. 

After only two rings Namjoon picks up. 

“Jimin?!” 

“Something’s wrong!”  Jimin gasps. “Please help!”

“You should get some sleep,” Yoongi says from behind Jimin, his voice groggy and tired as well. 

Jimin shakes his head where he’s curled up on the armchair, his burning eyes fixated on Jungkook’s sleeping form on the couch. He’s shockingly pale but at least his chest is rising and falling calmly now, his face relaxed. 

It’s almost noon and Namjoon is still gone. He drove to the lab to check the blood sample he took from Jungkook shortly after sedating him. 

Jimin knows Jungkook won’t be happy about being sedated, but right now he’s glad they at least had a way of helping him sleep this out. Whatever this is. 

His phone buzzes on the coffee table and he surges forward to grab it, hoping it’s Namjoon with answers, but it’s only a text from Viv, telling him she hopes he’s feeling better already. He called their boss this morning, telling her he’s sick and won’t be able to work his shift. The elderly lady was very understanding about it, which wasn’t surprising, since this was the first time Jimin called in sick ever since he started working for her and he probably did sound pretty out of it. 

The phone slips from his grasp when the front door is ripped open. 

“Okay, I think I got it,” Namjoon’s voice reaches them before he steps through the door, his eyes landing on Jungkook. He frowns. 

“He hasn’t woken up yet?” 

“No—” Jimin sits up taller. “Is that a bad sign?” 

Namjoon chews on his lower lip before shaking his head. “No, it probably just means I accidentally used a bit too much of the sedative.” With a sigh he lowers himself on the armrest of Jimin’s chair. “Look at this.” He pulls out printouts of photos that were clearly taken under a microscope with tables of numbers and equations next to them. 

“What are we looking at?” Yoongi asks, coming up on Namjoon’s other side. 

“These are his white blood cells.” Namjoon pulls out a pen and circles a couple of spots on the photo, the blue ink a stark contrast to the faded colors of the printout. “These little dots here, clinging to them, are the suppressant. They are basically controlling them, making them attack all the dragon cells that keep forming in his body. These—” He circles a couple of weirdly shaped blobs. “—are from the antidote. They were supposed to cut the suppressants off his white blood cells, but look what they did instead—” He taps a spot in the corner. Jimin blinks. He doesn’t see a thing. 

“I’m— still not sure what we’re looking at,” Yoongi admits after a while. 

“Wha- Here!” Namjoon taps the spot on the photo harder. “They started cutting up his white blood cells!” 

Jimin glances at Jungkook on the couch. 

“That sounds horrible,” he rasps, his throat and mouth dry. He should probably drink some water, he doesn’t remember having any liquid or food ever since Namjoon and Yoongi arrived at his apartment in the middle of the night. 

“It is,” Namjoon nods. “But there is also good news.” There is a hint of excitement in his voice. “It seems some of them—” He draws some more circles. “Did exactly what they were supposed to do. They latched onto the suppressants but weren’t strong enough to cut them off. I can— I think I can work with that, I think if I-” 

A muffled groan from the couch makes them collectively look up. 

Jungkook begins to stir, his brows furrowed, his clawed fingers twitching where his hand is hanging limply from the side of the couch. His eyelids flutter open and a faint puzzled expression forms on his features as he keeps blinking up at the ceiling. 

“Jungkook,” Jimin whispers, breaking the silence.

The other turns his head, looking at them, still blinking, the lines of his frown deepening. 

When his gaze lands on Namjoon, pieces seem to fall into place, the look in his eyes slowly clearing, sharpening— and then contorting into a look of fury. 

Before Jimin can comprehend what’s going on, the world turns into chaos. 

Within the blink of an eye Jungkook’s muscles tense, his body springing into action. He launches himself off the couch and, with a terrifying precision for someone who was out for so many hours, charges at them. 

Jimin’s stomach drops.

“Stop!” 

“Jungkook!” 

The dragon pounces, grabbing Namjoon by his throat, throwing himself on top of him with a deep animalistic sound – a mix of a growl and a hiss – causing the chair to topple over, taking Jimin down with them. He grunts when his shoulder connects with the floor painfully and he has just enough time to turn over, seeing Jungkook on top of Namjoon with his arm raised, the sharp claws about to lash at Namjoon’s face. 

“What are you doing?!” Jimin shouts, surging forward at the same time Yoongi does, both of them throwing themselves against Jungkook’s solid body, Yoongi locking his arms around his torso while Jimin holds onto his raised arm with all his body weight. 

“Stop it!” 

Jungkook growls, trying to shake them off, his hold around Namjoon’s throat tightening.

“Fuck off!” He hisses as he winds in their hold. “What the fuck did you inject me with?!” He spits at Namjoon, who is desperately gasping for air, clawing at Jungkook’s hand around his throat. “You did that on purpose! You tried to kill me!” 

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Jimin shouts. “Let go of him!” 

“Something went wrong—” Namjoon presses out between clenched teeth, his face starting to turn red from the lack of air. “And I apologize for that but—” He yanks at Jungkook’s hand. “You knew of the risks and it wasn’t on purpose, I promise— I can explain—” 

Jungkook scoffs, his hold visibly tightening and Jimin starts to get dizzy with panic. 

“Let him go!” He shouts again, pulling away from his lifted arm to yank on the other one. “Fucking let him go!” 

At the last word he swings around, only realizing that his fist has connected with Jungkook’s jaw when a dull pain surges through his knuckles and wrist. Jungkook’s head flies to the side and even though the punch probably wasn’t hard, it’s enough to make him loosen his grip around Namjoon’s throat, who sucks in the oxygen greedily. 

Jungkook’s head snaps around to look at Jimin, his eyes narrow, the look inside them making Jimin recoil. 

“I’m sorry-” 

Jungkook interrupts him with a growl and Jimin scrambles backwards, but he doesn’t get far, his back hitting the toppled over chair. His heart tumbles out of his chest when Jungkook leans in, a thin trail of blood trickling over his lower lip in a spot where his fangs have ripped his skin open. His tongue flicks out, licking the blood off before a grin forms on his lips. 

“Nice punch, Jiminie.” 

Before Jimin knows what’s happening, the other surges to his feet and throws an arm around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him up and against his chest in a firm headlock. Yoongi struggles in his hold but it’s to no avail.

“Explain,” Jungkook barks at Namjoon, who’s still lying on the floor, pale, gasping for air, his wide eyes darting back and forth between Yoongi and Jungkook. “And if I don’t like the answer,” He places his other hand on top of Yoongi’s head. “I’ll snap his neck.” 

As if to prove his point he tightens his hold, pulling a pained grunt from Yoongi.

“Jungkook, stop-”

“You shut up,” Jungkook hisses at Jimin before looking at Namjoon again. “Talk.” 

Namjoon struggles to form coherent sentences as he desperately explains to Jungkook what he’s just explained to Yoongi and Jimin. Jungkook’s frown deepens more and more with each word, his eyes flickering over the photos that Namjoon lays out on the ground with trembling hands. 

Jimin isn’t sure if Jungkook really understands what Namjoon is telling him but something makes him loosen his hold around Yoongi’s neck slowly while he’s still staring at the pictures. 

“I know it’s hard to believe but this is a good sign. This is what progress is about. Making mistakes and learning from them, using them to do it better next time,” Namjoon finishes nervously. 

“So—” Jungkook’s frown deepens even more. “How high are the chances that you’ll get it right next time?” 

A flicker of worry crosses Namjoon’s face and Jimin can tell he’s choosing his next words carefully. 

“I’m going to be frank, I don’t think next time will be a success either. But I’ll keep track of your blood and how it reacts closely, I’ll keep learning.” He looks at Jungkook. “I need you to understand though— It might hurt you again.” 

Jungkook’s jaw clenches. 

“We can sedate you every time it gets too bad! You don’t have to feel any of it, it’s-”

“No more sedatives.” 

“What?” 

Jungkook growls. “You won’t be putting anything in my body other than that antidote. Don’t you dare knock me out like that again.” 

“But—” Namjoon frowns. “But it would help with the pain.” 

“I don’t fucking care. I wanna be awake no matter what happens. I don’t fucking trust you. And I want you far away from me if something like that happens again.” His eyes flicker to Jimin. “No more calling them. Understand?” 

Jimin swallows and nods. 

Later that day Jimin texts Namjoon, because he needs to know. 

You really didn’t do it on purpose, right?

The reply comes promptly.

I didn’t. I really want to help him, Jimin.

Jimin believes him. 

In the early evening of the day they are going to attempt injecting Jungkook with the antidote a second time, only about a week later, Jimin decides it’s finally time to admit defeat and take the seat cushions of his couch to a place where they can be professionally taken care of. His attempts to rub out the cum stains only resulted in him accidentally rubbing the color out of the fabric, which made it look like shit. So now he needs a place that will not only clean them properly but dye them too. 

“I’m hoping for you they’ll get it done today because I’m not sleeping on the fucking floor,” Jungkook grumbles as they carry the cushions from the car Jimin rented to the cleaning place at the other end of the parking lot. “Especially not tonight.” 

Jimin swallows nervously. He wonders if Jungkook is nervous too, or at least a little bit concerned about getting sick again tonight. As per usual the other seems totally unfazed, although— sometimes Jimin suspects it’s nothing but show. 

“They assured me they’ll be done in about three to four hours. And it’ll cost me extra, so stop complaining.” 

After dropping the cushions off and confirming that, yes, for the right price they could be done in about three hours, they make their way to the hardware store around the corner where Jimin wants to have a look at stuff he and Viv could use for a couple of DIY projects at the coffee shop. Like doing something about the boring ceiling lights and maybe glam up the bookshelves a little bit. 

Unfortunately, Jungkook makes it almost impossible for him to shop in peace – delivering nasty joke after nasty joke about hardware and tools and whatnot – and Jimin decides, after only twenty minutes, that this isn’t gonna work. They leave the store without buying anything. Instead, he buys Jungkook ice cream with extra sprinkles and sits with him in a nearby park for the rest of the time, waiting for the cushions to be done. 

When they finally get back home, putting the cushions – which look as good as new – back on the couch, Jungkook sniffs before making an unhappy sound. 

“It smells awful.” 

Jimin throws his hands in the air with a groan.

“You’re really hard to please, you know that?” 

He regrets his words when Jungkook’s eyes sharpen. 

“But I’m really not, Jiminie,” the dragon purrs, stepping closer and right into his space. “I’m very easy to please actually.” He runs his knuckles over the side of Jimin’s neck, the featherlight touch sending goosebumps all over Jimin’s arms and heating up his face. 

Touches like these— they are nothing new. From subtle to very much obvious, Jungkook, over the course of the past week, kept putting his hands on Jimin in one way or another. Almost as if he couldn’t keep them off. 

And Jimin let him. Even though he probably shouldn’t. Just like Jungkook not being able to keep his hands off Jimin, Jimin can’t stop craving the skin-to-skin contact, the heat of Jungkook’s body against his own.  

“Do you wanna know what would please me right now?” 

As Jungkook leans closer, Jimin’s heart speeds up.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” He asks breathlessly to try and deviate from the topic. 

Jungkook blinks and pulls back, letting his hand sink. Then he snorts. 

“Way to ruin the mood.” He drops down on the couch. “No, I’m not. Why would I?” 

“Well— aren’t you nervous you might get sick again?” Jimin sinks down next to him. 

Jungkook just shrugs and the fact that he doesn’t answer is answer enough. 

Jimin really hoped that what happened last time wouldn't repeat itself.

Unfortunately, they aren’t as lucky.

This time, he took the poison earlier, even before they went to the area behind the old warehouse, where he had to wait in the car again. He fought the effects, trying to come off less drowsy than he felt, and it seemed that only Jungkook could tell what was going on, since he kept sniffing the air around Jimin and sending him convert glances. 

This time, when they went to sleep, Jimin left his door ajar, his body and mind restless. 

At the sound of the first breathless groan his eyes fly open. 

Immediately he’s on his feet. 

And that is how, only about half an hour later, he finds himself on the living room floor, trying to hold Jungkook’s shaking body down in the position Namjoon showed him, on the side, head angled down, so the nosebleed can flow out and not into his airways. All the windows are open, the moonlight that’s falling into the living room the only source of light aside from the golden glow of the floor lamp next to Jimin’s TV, the late-night breeze sending shivers down his arms, making the sweat on Jungkook’s skin feel all cool and clammy. Jungkook is clearly freezing, his temperature way too low for a dragon’s body, but it seems he wants the windows open since he has trouble breathing. At every attempt at closing them he seemed more and more distressed, so Jimin kept them open. 

Namjoon asked Jimin to send him updates if anything happens again, but so far Jimin didn’t even have time to grab his phone. Holding down Jungkook’s convulsing body takes up all his strength. The other’s face is pale, damp with sweat and contorted in pain, the muscles in his entire body visibly straining and clenching as he tries to manage the agony shaking through him, his breathing is labored, each inhale and exhale clearly a struggle.  

Jimin’s heart is breaking for him and he tries, amidst holding him in a position on his side so he won’t suffocate on his blood, to find soothing words, to keep his voice calm, to be as gentle as he can to ease some of his distress, even though his own adrenaline levels are going through the roof, his heart racing wildly in his chest, while question over question races through his head. Questions whether what he’s doing is right or not, if he’s making it worse for Jungkook, if this is lethal—

Namjoon assured him Jungkook most likely won’t die from it, he’ll just suffer a great amount if he doesn’t let himself be sedated. And that’s out of question, Jungkook made it very clear that he doesn’t want any narcotics. 

Even now, in tremendous pain and bleeding from his nose all over Jimin’s floor, it seems like he’s wary of his surroundings, wary of everything Jimin does. 

His hand grabs onto Jimin’s shirt when Jimin moves to get up, wanting to get more towels, his claws ripping the fabric, knuckles white from the force of his grip. There is sweat on his forehead and above his upper lip, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. 

He’s about to lose consciousness, Jimin realizes. And he’s fighting it. 

“It’s alright,” Jimin whispers, pushing a damp strand of hair from the other’s face. “It’s just you and me and I’ll keep it that way. I promise, nothing will happen to you.” 

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his breathing going hard, the fingers clutching Jimin’s shirt trembling in pain. 

“I promise,” Jimin says again, wiping a bead of sweat from Jungkook’s temple with his thumb. “You can let go.” 

Whether it’s Jimin’s words or not, only a short moment later, Jungkook’s eyes roll back before he slumps, all his muscles relaxing, his body stilling, his breathing evening out. 

The sudden silence falling over the room is almost numbing. 

Jimin stares at the body in front of him, watches the shallow rise and fall of Jungkook’s ribcage. Something hard forms in his throat and no matter how often he swallows, it won’t go away. He blinks when his sight blurs.

Keep it together, he scolds himself before taking a deep breath and getting to his feet shakily. 

He shoots Namjoon a quick text, catching him up on the past hour, before he begins wiping Jungkook down as best as he can before starting to clean up the living room.

That night Jungkook wakes up two more times in violent tremors, groaning and heaving, his body cramping, but at least he doesn’t bleed from his nose anymore and loses consciousness only a short while after. 

The first rays of the morning sun are already falling through the window when he wakes up a third time. 

“It’s cold—” He rasps, his voice faint, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

Jimin slides from his chair and kneels on the ground next to him. The pillow he put under Jungkook’s head is soaked with sweat. 

“Do you wanna take a hot bath?” 

Jungkook nods weakly, not meeting Jimin’s eyes. 

After Jimin drew Jungkook a bath as hot as it can get and helped him undress and into the tub, he retreats to his room to give Namjoon a call.

“I think the worst is over,” he mumbles into the speaker, as quietly as possible so Jungkook doesn’t hear him. Although he’s not asking Namjoon to come over, he doesn’t know if Jungkook would appreciate him updating him on his condition. “He said he’s cold so I drew him a hot bath.”

“That’s good,” Namjoon says on the other end. “Keep trying to increase his body temperature and let me know when it’s alright for me to come over and take a blood sample. We shouldn’t wait too long. It’s your day off, right?”

“Yes,” Jimin sighs. “I’ll talk to him.” 

After hanging up he makes his way back to the bathroom, knocking on the door. 

“Can I come in?” 

“It’s your bathroom, what kind of stupid question is that?” 

Jimin huffs and opens the door. The air inside the room is hot and humid, the tiles and mirror fogged up. 

“I see you’re feeling better already,” he says at the sight of Jungkook’s shamelessly sprawled out form and the way his head is resting on the edge of the bathtub in his back, one of his arms hanging out and dripping all over the floor. His eyes are closed and he doesn’t open them when he answers Jimin.

“As good as new.” 

“Well, then you surely won’t mind Namjoon coming over and drawing your blood.” 

Jungkook’s head snaps around, his eyes narrowing. Before he can say anything Jimin speaks up again.

“You know it’s necessary.” 

The other grimaces. “Can I at least get another 30 minutes?” 

“Sure, I’ll let him know,” Jimin says, turning to leave. 

“Wait.” 

When he turns back around Jungkook is looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“You stayed the whole night?” 

Jimin isn’t entirely sure what he means. You stayed awake? You stayed by my side? 

“Yes.” 

Jungkook frowns. “Why?” 

“Uh—” Jimin blinks. “Why not? I mean— I couldn’t just let you suffer away on my living room floor all alone, could I?” 

Jungkook’s frown deepens, his eyes wandering over Jimin’s face, before he eventually averts them.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, sinking deeper into his bath. “Get out.” 

When Jungkook emerges from the bathroom about twenty minutes later, still dripping wet and with only a towel around his hips, Jimin is about to scold him for making a mess right after he’s finally finished cleaning everything up but something in Jungkook’s expression has the complaints die in his throat. The look in the other’s eyes is determined, his brows slightly furrowed as he purposefully strides towards Jimin, who is just about to wipe the freshly cleaned kitchen island dry with the designated towel. 

Before Jimin can even react, hands find his waist, pulling him against a warm but wet chest. The kitchen towel slips from his fingers when his chin is tipped up before the other leans in to brush his lips over his. His hands curl around Jungkook’s upper arms, sliding over the wet skin, his heart starting to hammer in a quick and forceful beat.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his breath hitching when sharp teeth nip on his lower lip, before a hot tongue slides against it. 

“Kissing you,” Jungkook mumbles. 

And as if that’s explanation enough, Jimin melts into the kiss that follows, the hot tongue against his own burning away any confusion. His fingers tangle in Jungkook’s wet hair as he yanks him closer, their kiss turning hard and needy in a matter of seconds. Jimin welcomes the rush in his ears, welcomes losing himself in this intoxicating feeling after being on high alert the entire night. 

Jungkook pushes him backwards, crowding him against the kitchen island and their kiss deepens, something hot pulsing in Jimin’s lower belly.  After a while, he pulls back, breathless. 

“Why?” He gasps, his hands betraying him and digging into Jungkook’s hair deeper.

“Felt like it,” the other mumbles, his cheeks rosy, his lips kissed red, his eyes glimmering. He looks so different from earlier, so healthy and lively and Jimin really wants to kiss him again. 

The sudden sound of the doorbell ringing makes him jump. Immediately, his stomach drops. 

“Shit, that’s Namjoon,” he hisses, shoving Jungkook off with a slap against his naked arm. “Hurry up and put some clothes on!”

Jungkook scowls, muttering something along the lines of ‘always interrupting’, before he turns around to disappear into the bathroom. 

Jimin really hoped Jungkook getting sick from their attempts at the antidote would be only a two-time thing but, unfortunately, he was gravely mistaken. 

It keeps happening. 

Even though the formula Namjoon is working on seems to be improving, based on the way Jungkook’s blood reacts under the microscope, it's still imperfect, every injection a double-edged sword that brings them closer to the solution but not without leaving Jungkook battling with severe sickness. Every time, Jimin stays by his side through the long and painful nights, taking care of him, making sure he’s as safe as possible. 

Even to him it’s tiring and exhausting, and with time he can tell that it’s really taking a toll on Jungkook too. He seems tired and weirdly distracted more and more often, almost as if deep in thought. 

One morning, Jimin finds him deeply asleep on the couch even though it’s almost time to head to the coffee shop. This has never happened before. Usually, Jungkook goes to sleep after Jimin and is already awake by the time he gets up.

Jimin debates if he should wake him up or not. It’s good to see him sleep so deeply, so peacefully. His body probably needs the rest. But he also knows Jungkook wouldn’t like it if he would leave him behind here and head to the shop alone, so he does wake him. 

The dragon seems confused for a moment, looking around as if his brain needs a while to place where he is. Once he does, he plays it off, getting ready without mentioning the odd occurrence. 

While Jungkook’s tiredness and distraction get worse and worse, the side effects of the antidote don’t seem to get better at all. 

Until one fateful night, about five weeks later. 

The night they finally reach a breakthrough. 

Jimin knows something is different when, while he’s listening for any alarming sounds from the living room, it gets later and later until he’s eventually pulled into a light slumber. 

He only notices he’s been asleep when he wakes up a while later, blinking his eyes open, dawn’s soft light falling through the gap between his curtains. 

There is laughter coming from the living room.

He frowns and sits up slowly, his mind taking a moment to comprehend that the TV is running, before he rolls out of bed and makes his way down the hallway. 

The sight of Jungkook lounging on the couch, watching TV while sipping on a can of orange soda, relaxed, completely fine, leaves Jimin with a mix of groggy confusion and careful excitement. 

“Jungkook? Are you al-” 

He almost chokes on his words when Jungkook turns to look at him. 

“Yep!” The other grins toothily, seemingly excited. “All good, nothing happened last night.” 

Jimin has to grab the doorway to hold onto something. 

Jungkook is shimmering.

He’s literally shimmering, his throat dappled with glittering golden— golden scales. 

They adorn the sides of his neck, partially covered by his hair, peeking from the collar of his shirt, extending all the way to his jawline, a couple of them covering his cheekbones too, reaching up his temples. 

They shimmer in all shades of gold imaginable, ranging from a radiant color, brilliant like the sun’s glow, over the rich shade of honey, to the warmer and darker color of amber. 

They are beautiful. 

Jimin knows his mouth is hanging open, his eyes probably wide as saucers, and as the seconds tick by, Jungkook seems to grow more and more confused, a slow frown forming on his face.  

“What is it?” He asks. 

Jimin snaps his mouth shut before opening it again. No sound comes out, so he closes it again, before opening it once more. 

Jungkook's frown deepens. “What?!”  

“Y-Your—” Jimin gestures at his own throat. “Your neck and—” He points at his cheek. “F-face—” 

Jungkook’s hand comes up his cheek, sliding over the skin. 

“What’s with-” He falters when his fingers brush over the scales on his cheekbone, his eyes growing impossibly wide. 

Within seconds he’s on his feet, hurrying past Jimin like a whirlwind, running into the bathroom. 

“Holy shit—” Jimin hears him gasp and he turns to follow him. 

Jungkook is leaning over the sink, examining his skin in the mirror, tilting his face from one side to another, lifting his chin. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, running his fingers over the shimmering scales. “Holy fucking shit—” 

Suddenly, a stream of clear bubbly sounds tumbles from his throat. Softly first, then louder. 

He’s laughing.

When he looks at Jimin there is a big carefree smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Holy shit!” He laughs again, turning back to look in the mirror.

Jimin feels his own lips stretching into a smile too. 

“Holy shit,” he agrees. Then he remembers something. “I should take photos!” 

“Yeah,” he hears Jungkook say as he turns around to grab his phone from his room. 

When he comes back, Jungkook is still examining his cheeks and throat, still smiling, his eyes gleaming. 

Jimin snaps a couple of pictures.

“Look at me,” he mumbles, and then: “Lift your chin— yes.” 

He lets his phone sink when he’s done, his eyes wandering over the scales. They truly are beautiful. Like delicate petals of melted gold, small, the surface polished. 

Jimin’s fingers twitch, itching to touch them. 

His eyes meet Jungkook’s. “Can I—” 

Jungkook just nods, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s when Jimin slowly puts his phone down on the vanity, wiping his damp palms on his pants before he reaches out and brushes his fingertips alongside Jungkook’s neck carefully. His breath catches in his throat. The scales are smooth to the touch and surprisingly warm. 

Jungkook’s eyes flutter close, his lips slightly parting with a shaky exhale of air. 

Jimin pauses, swallowing drily, his hand hovering beside Jungkook’s neck and just as he’s about to pull away, Jungkook grabs him by his wrist, as if he could sense Jimin’s hesitation. His eyes are still closed as he guides Jimin’s hand up to his face. Jimin’s heart tumbles in his chest when he places his palm against the other’s cheek, running his thumb over the scales carefully and maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks Jungkook is leaning in, pressing his cheek further into Jimin’s palm, his features relaxing. 

When he opens his emerald eyes to look at Jimin again, there is something tender in his expression. 

“They’re so pretty,” Jimin whispers. 

Jungkook’s lips quirk into a smile. “I know.” 

Jimin chuckles and Jungkook’s smile grows bigger while he steps closer, still holding Jimin’s wrist. 

When their eyes meet once more something powerful surges between them. Something that makes Jimin’s heart beat even faster, something that seems to pull them together, like an invisible thread, like a magnetic force, the space between them vanishing.

Their breaths hit each other’s lips, they lean in, and then their mouths meet in a kiss that’s both passionate and gentle, their tongues brushing almost hesitant at first, but then Jungkook’s arm finds its way around Jimin’s waist, pulling him in roughly and that’s when all the gentleness flies out of the window. 

There is nothing gentle or tender about the kissing that follows.

It’s hot, it’s devouring, it’s hard and it’s bruising, just like Jungkook’s hands grabbing Jimin’s ass, pulling him in, his fangs scraping Jimin’s lips and Jimin’s heart is racing, his breath being stolen, heat stirring between his legs. 

Bad idea, one part of his brain thinks. A familiar thought. A thought he’s been living by for the past weeks.

Shut up, another part of his brain answers. That’s new. 

He throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck and pulls him closer. 

Soon, his hips are grinding into the other’s, guided by the unrelentless grip on his ass, his core throbbing, low gasps and needy moans leaving their throats as they both grow hard against each other. 

Without breaking their kiss, Jungkook manages to pull his pants off until they pool around his feet before fumbling to do the same with Jimin’s sweatpants. Jimin helps him, his movements quick, almost desperate, giving in to the urge that hangs in the air between them, the urge that builds inside him like a storm. 

They collide again and Jimin loses his balance from the impact, his back hitting the wooden doorframe, Jungkook using the opportunity to press against him, kissing him deeply before taking them both in his hand, his hot length pushing against Jimin’s. 

His grip is rough and he doesn’t waste any time. Pressing his face to Jimin’s exposed neck he starts jerking them off harshly, sucking on a spot right below Jimin’s ear, and Jimin’s body is burning up with pleasure, his mouth hanging open as he tries to suck in air, his toes curling at the pulsing tension in his stomach. 

He slides his hands to Jungkook’s chest, digs his thumbs into the spots where he can feel his nipples pebbling under his shirt, the hitch of the other’s breath against his ear making him shudder in delight. He moans and ruts into Jungkook’s hand desperately and Jungkook is snapping his hips too, their thighs colliding, the rhythm growing quicker and quicker and Jimin’s sight is blurring, his teeth digging into his lower lip, the back of his head connecting with the doorframe. His fingers curl in Jungkook’s shirt and all it takes is the rub of Jungkook’s clawed thumb over the wet tip of his cock for his orgasm to slam into him, taking him completely by surprise. 

His body trembles in the other’s hold, his cock twitching as he comes all over the dragon’s hand with an airy sob. 

Only a few seconds later Jungkook follows him over the edge with a breathless curse, his lips pressing to Jimin’s shoulder, his cock throbbing alongside Jimin’s. The sensation has Jimin hold on to him tighter, his hands sliding to his shoulders, his fingers tingling as they dig into the muscles there. He keeps rolling his hips, riding out his high while Jungkook is riding out his own, their breathing harsh, their bodies trembling.

It's like their orgasms have ignited a fresh fire inside both of them. A fire that burns even hotter than the one before. 

They pull back to look at each other only for a heartbeat until their lips collide again. They kiss each other hungrily and Jimin feels the scales where his nose digs into Jungkook’s cheeks, feels them under his fingertips when he trails them up Jungkook’s neck before grabbing him by his hair again. 

He’s still painfully hard, his legs still trembling, and then the telltale sound of Jungkook slicking himself up with their cum reaches his ears.

Something hot and eager courses through his belly, a desperate whine escaping his throat. 

Yes.

He pushes against Jungkook’s chest with all his strength and the other stumbles backwards, looking at him with big eyes, his cum-covered hand still slicking up his cock. 

“Get down,” Jimin rasps.  

Jungkook’s eyes narrow at the command.

“I don’t think so,” he growls, stepping into Jimin’s space again.

Jimin shoves at his chest once more, his face burning, his mind hazy. “If you want me to ride you, you better get down.” 

Jungkook stares at him, his lips parting, and then – with a breathless curse – he drops to his knees. 

Jimin kicks off his pants unceremoniously and grabs some lotion from the vanity before sinking down to straddle Jungkook. The other’s hands find his ass right away, claws digging into his cheeks, pulling them apart.

Their lips meet once more, the smacks of the deep kiss that follows loud in the room while Jimin covers his fingers with lotion before reaching around himself, sliding them between his cheeks, pushing in slowly. He gets himself ready in a rush. Probing and prodding, twisting and scissoring his fingers. Soon, he grows impatient and pulls out, reaching down between them instead, taking hold of Jungkook’s length, hard and warm and wet. He lifts his ass to press the hot tip against his rim.

The other pulls back.

“Wait,” he breathes. “You’re not prepared enough-”

Jimin silences him with another kiss, deep and a little messy. 

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, his body contracting where Jungkook is pressing against him. There is a burning need right under his skin and he can’t possibly wait any longer. 

“No, wait-”

“It’s okay,” Jimin shushes Jungkook again before he starts lowering himself slowly. A whimper gets stuck in his throat at the feeling of slowly being filled. The stretch is overwhelming, with a slight burn to it that has a hot tide rising in his belly. His toes curl, his cock throbbing. 

“It’s okay,” he breathes again when Jungkook tries to stop his hips. “It’s– fuck!” His head falls back when Jungkook’s cock drags over his prostate, sending shocks of electricity through his body, before sliding further inside. “Oh—” His chest is rising and falling with each rapid breath and he has to bring his hands to Jungkook’s shoulders to steady himself, to hold on to something. 

Jungkook groans deeply, his arms coming around Jimin’s waist. He pulls him in, hugs him so hard that it’s almost impossible for Jimin to breathe.

“Jimin—” 

Hot lips latch onto his damp neck and Jimin sinks lower, and lower, and lower, being stretched wider and wider and it hurts. He’s too tight, Jungkook’s cock not lubed up enough, his body having trouble accommodating. The dull pain makes his heart race, mixing with the electrifying feeling of being filled. He’s hot all over, dizzy, and so so turned on.  

The moment he’s fully seated in Jungkook’s lap, his balls clench, wetness collecting at the tip of his cock and he whines, his fingers digging into Jungkook’s hair. 

“Fuck—” Jungkook breathes, muffled by Jimin’s neck, his hold around Jimin tightening, his cock inside him throbbing. “Fuckfuckfuck-” 

His voice breaks as his thighs tense under Jimin and then everything happens all at once.

Jimin feels Jungkook’s cock pulse the very same moment he hears Jungkook’s strangled moan, followed by the wet sensation of hot cum deep inside him. 

Holy shit. 

Jimin trembles, yanking at Jungkook’s hair, his sight blurring. 

Jungkook just came. 

Under any other circumstance Jimin would’ve teased him for coming like this, so quickly, a second time, just from being inside him, but he’s too worked up to speak, too pulled tight, his mind overstimulated and shockingly empty at the same time, his heart pumping blood nowhere but between his legs, his cock leaking precum. 

His world is turned upside down and it takes the sensation of hard tiles against his back and the sight of the ceiling above him for him to realize that he’s been pushed to the ground, both of his hands being pressed into the cold floor on either side of his head by a bruising grip around his wrists, Jungkook still deep inside him, still rock hard. 

Jimin blinks as the other’s face comes into view, framed by dark hair, shining – not just where the golden scales are but also from sweat – his eyes holding something wild, something that hits Jimin deep inside his chest, something that makes him wrap his legs around Jungkook’s waist, that makes him dig his heels into his lower back impatiently. 

The message is clear. 

Jungkook’s eyelids flutter, his jaw straining and then he starts snapping his hips forward with a groan.

It’s not careful, it’s not gentle but it’s exactly what Jimin needs. 

Harsh and loud and wet and slippery. 

Waves of pleasure build inside him, growing bigger and harsher, and his back arches, a pathetic hiccup leaving his throat when Jungkook finds just the right angle. 

He loses all track of time, every nerve inside his body coming alight, his damp fingers flexing uselessly where his hands are being pressed into the floor. The crushing grip on his wrists is painful but grounding, something he can focus on in his dizziness, something that holds him in place while Jungkook is pounding into him. 

His body rocks with each thrust, his cock weeping all over his belly, the messy sounds of Jungkook’s hips colliding with his ass echoing loudly around them in the small bathroom, mixing with their harsh breathing and desperate moans. 

Heated shivers roll down Jimin’s spine, Jungkook’s thick length is dragging in and out of him relentlessly and God, it feels so fucking good. He lets his legs fall open and Jungkook sinks even deeper, pure satisfaction flooding Jimin when the other’s mouth falls open with a gasp, his eyebrows drawn together, the grip around Jimin’s wrists tightening when Jimin clenches around him. 

For a moment, Jungkook slows his pace, circling his hips, grinding into Jimin deeply while sliding his hands from his wrists down over his torso and then to his waist, where he grabs him harshly. 

“Shit— you drive me fucking insane—” 

He starts slamming his hips forward again, hard and merciless, pulling Jimin back against him with each hard thrust, sending hot throbs through Jimin's lower belly. His fingers are sweaty and they slip on Jimin’s equally sweaty skin, forcing him to adjust his grip, to tighten his hold even more. 

Jimin’s head is swimming, his pulse going wild, his body sliding over the floor each time Jungkook yanks him against his hips. At one particular thrust a high-pitched mewl leaves his throat, a mortifying sound that bounces off the tiled walls around them, making Jimin’s face heat up. He digs his teeth into his lower lip in embarrassment. 

“Stop doing that,” Jungkook pants, his hand coming up to cup Jimin’s cheek, his clawed thumb pulling Jimin’s lower lip from between his teeth gently before he leans in and kisses him deeply, his hot tongue licking over the tiny bruise Jimin’s teeth have caused, his hair tickling Jimin’s face, his hand sliding from Jimin’s cheek to his neck.

A strangled moan leaves Jimin when he’s grabbed by his throat and pushed into the ground, Jungkook’s thumb pressing into the spot where his pulse is hammering wildly as he straightens up, looking down at Jimin through half-lidded eyes. 

His neck is sparkling, tiny droplets of sweat making the scales shine even more beautifully, some strands of raven hair sticking to them and Jimin wants to reach out and brush them off but the tight grip right under his jaw keeps him from moving and the harsh thrusts against his prostate fucks the thought right out of him. 

Hot tension floods his belly, spreading through his entire body, his legs jerking in the air, his fingers trembling when he reaches down to take hold of his cock, painfully hard and wet. He sobs at the touch, his abs clenching, his hips bucking and Jungkook answers with a strained groan. He seems just as out of it as he increases the pressure around Jimin’s throat, as he drops his head forward with a sound of defeat, as if he has given up, as if he is finally succumbing to the inevitable.

His thrusts turn sloppy as he shifts his angle, shocks of pleasure zapping through Jimin’s body, shooting straight to his cock. The feeling makes Jimin’s voice crack, makes his back arch, his blood rushing in his ears loud like thunder, mixing with the wet sounds of his hand flying up and down his cock. It’s building and building, burning hotter and hotter, increasing to the point where Jimin thinks his body can’t hold it anymore, where he thinks he might break any second now. His lips fall open, all his muscles contract and then his vision goes white when he comes with a silent scream all over his front. 

His legs jerk with every pulse of his cock, cum slipping through his fingers, landing on his stomach and chest, a bit of it even on Jungkook’s hand that’s still holding him by his throat. 

The other’s moans get louder, turning airy and breathless and a bit overwhelmed, and then, with a choked-up sound, he slams into Jimin one final time, his hips pressing tightly against his ass. His cock jerks inside Jimin when he’s coming too, his claws digging into the sides of Jimin’s neck as his grip tightens even more, his body trembling on top of Jimin while he empties himself inside him with shuddering gasps. 

Slowly, all tension slips from Jimin’s body, every single muscle going lax. His hand slips from his cock, falling to his side limply, the tingling aftershocks of his orgasm steadily subsiding. He inhales deeply when Jungkook takes his hand off his throat, planting it into the floor to hold himself up, his grip on Jimin’s waist relaxing too. 

Their breathing calms only slowly and they both wince when Jungkook pulls out, Jimin’s hole clenching immediately, the first trickle of cum already slipping out. He feels all wet and messy and he really should get in the shower before the cum on his stomach gets all crusty and dry but he doesn’t seem to be able to move. There is a strain in his thigh when Jungkook lowers his legs down before rolling off and collapsing on the bathroom floor right next to him, sprawled out, staring at the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling heavily. 

“You’re staring,” he mumbles and Jimin is just about to avert his eyes awkwardly, when he notices something. 

His eyes grow wide. Oh no. He pushes himself up on his elbow. 

“Jungkook, they’re—they’re gone,” he gasps, letting his eyes wander over Jungkook’s cheek and neck, where it’s nothing but smooth skin now, not a single scale remaining. 

Jungkook looks at him before lifting his hand and trailing his fingers over his neck, then he sighs, letting his hand flop down again. 

“I know, I felt them disappearing.” 

Jimin frowns. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“I didn’t expect them to last,” he shrugs, staring at the ceiling. “They weren’t—They weren’t fully formed, they didn’t feel—complete, if that makes sense? They felt temporary. But—” He pauses, a small frown appearing on his face. “But they also felt like a sign.” 

“A sign for what?” 

Jungkook smiles. “That I can go home soon.”  

“Fascinating—” Namjoon mumbles as he clicks through the photos on his computer, zooming in here and there. “Very fascinating—” 

He pulls out his pen, scribbling down on his notepad as he keeps browsing the pictures over and over again. 

Jimin wonders what he sees from a scientific point of view. All Jimin sees is something beautiful. Beautiful golden scales and a beautiful smile. 

Jimin can’t stop staring at it. The carefree expression on Jungkook's face in the photos, the crinkling corners of his eyes, the bright beaming smile on his lips. The sight makes his heart flutter with fondness. 

He glances at the dragon, who is sitting in a chair near the door. He has his arms crossed, looking around the lab with a seemingly bored expression on his face. Jimin is sure though, that he’s listening to every word Namjoon says.

“How long did they last?” 

Namjoon is still scrolling through the photos but looks over his shoulder when nothing but silence follows his question.

“Uh—” Jimin swallows nervously, his gaze flickering to Jungkook. 

He has absolutely no idea. They were both – well – kind of preoccupied with something that made him completely lose track of time. 

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, an amused grin spreading on his lips. 

“I-I mean—” Jimin clears his throat. “I don’t know how long they’ve been there before I came into the living room, so—umm-” 

“Oh, not for long,” Jungkook says, leaning back in his chair, his arms still crossed. “I went to the bathroom only a few minutes before and they weren’t there then.” 

“Well, then maybe—” Jimin looks back and forth between Namjoon’s expectant expression and Jungkook’s amused one. “Maybe about twenty minutes?”

Jungkook’s brows pull into a frown. 

“What the fuck.” He sits up tall and lifts his chin. “That was at least forty.” 

Jimin glares at him before turning to Namjoon. 

“Half an hour,” he says with finality, ignoring Jungkook’s scoff. 

Namjoon hums as he turns back at the screen. “You should’ve called me right away, I would’ve loved to see them in person.” 

Jimin blanches, his fingers suddenly very cold. “Ah— yeah sorry about that, we—” He glances at Jungkook, whose amused smile is back. “We were kinda busy—”

Namjoon makes a questioning sound. “With what?” 

Jimin’s mouth opens and closes. Shit. 

“Can we hurry up?” Jungkook suddenly says. “I’m bored.” 

Namjoon sighs deeply, as if it’s a great pity that he has to take his eyes off the dragon scales on his screen, and gets up from his chair, grabbing his gloves, pulling one of them on with a snap.

“Alright, extend your arm. Jimin, can you grab me four tubes?” 

“Four?!” Jungkook complains. 

“I wanna be thorough today. This could be a major turning point.” 

Unsurprisingly, that makes Jungkook shut up. 

“When you say turning point—” Jimin puts a pair of gloves on himself, making his way to the cupboard with sterile tubes. “Do you mean-”

“I mean the next one could be it.” 

Jimin can tell that Namjoon doesn’t want to sound too excited. But there is a sparkle in his eyes and a restlessness in his demeanor. He probably can’t wait to get to work again. 

Jimin can also tell that Jungkook too doesn’t want to seem too excited. But his leg is bouncing where he’s sitting in the metal chair, his chest puffing when he takes a deep breath, probably to calm himself.

And Jimin— Jimin is excited too. Because that’s what he wanted, right? To help Jungkook go home. 

So he should feel excited. 

Right? 

He pushes his confusing thoughts aside while he helps Namjoon draw Jungkook’s blood, watching the dark red liquid making its way into the tubes, filling them one by one. 

When they’re done, Jimin pulls the gloves off and throws them in the trashcan next to Namjoon’s desk. 

“Alright, we’ll be going,” he sighs. It’s already late in the afternoon and he hasn’t had any food yet, except for two cinnamon cookies, which he managed to snatch from the pack before Jungkook had the remaining ten. 

“What happened to your hand?” Namjoon asks as he stores away the tubes filled with blood in one of the cooling compartments in the corner of the room.

Jimin freezes. “Huh?” 

He looks down at his palms. Everything looks normal.

“Your wrist,” Namjoon clarifies, turning around and jerking his chin at a spot where Jimin’s sleeve must’ve ridden up when he pulled off the gloves. “Did you hurt yourself somewhere?”  

He takes a step closer and that’s when it hits Jimin. His heart rate increases, something freezing cold washing through him, paralyzing him for a short moment. Short but enough time for Namjoon to take another step in before Jimin can pull his sleeve down with numb fingers.

“That looks like-” 

Jimin can tell the exact moment he catches on. A bewildered expression crosses his face as he looks back and forth between Jimin and Jimin’s wrist, before it morphs into one of straight horror. 

Before Jimin can even react he’s in front of him, grabbing him by his arm, yanking his sleeve up. 

“Joon, I-” 

“What the fuck,” the other whispers, before taking hold of the other arm, pulling that sleeve up as well. “What. The. Fuck.” 

The bruises are fresh, blooming in a mix of red and purple on Jimin’s skin in the areas where Jungkook held him down to the bathroom floor this morning. 

Namjoon’s gaze snaps up, landing directly on Jimin’s turtleneck. He had been looking at it oddly when they arrived here earlier, probably confused why Jimin would wear something like this in this kind of weather. Now Jimin can only stand there when he grabs the fabric and yanks it down, exposing the bruised and tender skin of his throat, littered with Jungkook’s marks. Marks stemming from his hands, from his lips— 

Even though he’s ashamed, Jimin’s face feels ice cold when Namjoon’s gaze meets his, his brain completely empty of any excuses. Excuses would be pointless anyway, Namjoon of course knows what these marks are. 

“Joon-” Jimin tries again but his voice breaks. 

“You—” Namjoon blinks, his eyes still wide, before his entire body goes rigid, an unsettling look of fury crossing his face. He snaps his head around to look at Jungkook, who’s still sitting in his chair, looking back and forth between them, seeming surprisingly unsettled. 

Namjoon’s jaw tenses, his eyes narrowing, his face slowly turning red. 

“You fucking piece of shit,” he whispers, letting his hand fall from Jimin’s neck to ball it to a fist. “How fucking dare you!” He charges across the room, directly at Jungkook. “How dare you lay a hand on him!” 

Jimin jumps into action the moment Jungkook gets up from his chair, taller and broader than Namjoon, stronger, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Joon, stop!” Jimin grabs the other by his lab coat before taking hold of his upper arm. “Please-”

Namjoon tries to yank himself out of Jimin’s grasp, which makes Jimin clutch at him even harder.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” He shouts, trying to push Jimin off. 

Jungkook snarls. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Hey!” Jimin jumps between them, grabbing Namjoon by both of his shoulders. “Stop it!” 

The other doesn’t look at him, is still staring at Jungkook with a wild look in his eyes, his chest heaving.

“It was him, wasn’t it?! He fucking hurt you!” 

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want, okay?”

The sudden silence that falls over the room makes Jimin a little bit sick, his heart pounding hectically in his throat when their eyes meet and he can see Namjoon’s expression changing from fury to something like confusion and then to complete and utter shock. 

“Oops,” Jungkook chuckles behind him. 

“Shut up,” Jimin hisses over his shoulder without looking at him, his eyes remaining glued to Namjoon’s shocked expression, dread making his throat constrict. “Get out. Wait downstairs.” 

The dragon grumbles something under his breath but Jimin can hear him shuffle towards the door and open it. 

When it falls shut a couple of seconds later, Namjoon and Jimin are still staring at each other. 

Jimin’s eyes start burning the moment his face does. 

“Joonie-” 

“Are you out of your mind?” Namjoon whispers, taking a step back, Jimin’s hands sliding off his shoulders in the process. “What—” He shakes his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Shame curls like a ugly little snake inside Jimin’s gut. He opens and closes his mouth but he’s at a loss for words. What is wrong with him? He doesn’t know. 

“He’s a predator, Jimin!” 

“I know.” 

“He’s dangerous!” 

“I know!” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “He— Do you have any idea— He could’ve killed you!” 

Jimin’s shoulders sink. “I know,” he whispers. 

“Then why?!” 

“I’m—” Jimin blinks rapidly to keep his sight from blurring. “I don’t know, Joon, it’s— it’s complicated—” 

Namjoon’s expression softens and he takes a step closer.

“Listen, Jimin,” he whispers. “If he’s forcing you-” 

“He’s not!” 

“Or if you think you owe him something because of back then-”

“I don’t!” Jimin shakes his head. “I mean I do, but— but not like this, it’s not— I didn’t— I was just curious and-” 

“Curious?!” Namjoon hisses. “You risked your life because you were curious? About what?! About how good of a fuck he is?!” Jimin winces. “I’m working day and night to complete that fucking antidote to finally get him to leave!” His voice gets louder as jabs a finger into his own chest. “I’m lying awake every single night worrying about your well-being and you— you let him— do stuff like that because you’re curious?!” 

Jimin feels sick. “Joonie—” His voice breaks. 

The other’s shoulders drop before he rubs his face in exhaustion, stumbling a few steps back, sinking down on his chair. His jaw works as he grinds his teeth. 

“For how long has this been going on?” 

Jimin shakes his head. “There is nothing going on. It happened only twice.” He ignores the other’s grimace. “And— he's really not that dangerous, Joon.” Namjoon opens his mouth to object, but Jimin goes on. “Sometimes he’s a lot, yeah, but he’s— he’s not that bad to be around when you know him a little bit better. He can be really funny and— and he makes me go outside a lot because he loves nature and stuff. And he likes reading! He—he likes your books, too! And he’s respectful of all the rules I set and he loves sweet stuff, did you know that? He loves the caramel macchiatos at the shop, he drinks so many of them!” The laugh flying out of Jimin’s mouth sounds nervous, even to his own ears. “And he drinks so much soda. I really don’t know how he-”

“Oh my God.” Namjoon stares up at Jimin from his chair with wide eyes. 

“What?” 

“You love him.” 

The three words hit like a punch to the stomach, making Jimin’s skin crawl in a way he’s never felt before. He’s frozen, everything stands still, even his heart stops for a moment, before he’s finally able to shake himself out of it. 

“What?” He repeats with a tremor in his voice. 

What a weird thing for Namjoon to say. 

“You’re in love with him.” 

There is a short moment of silence before Jimin scoffs and shakes his head. What made Namjoon come to that ridiculous conclusion?

“I’m not in love with him.”

Namjoon chuckles in defeat. It’s a bit of an empty sound, resigned, hollow, as he runs his hand through his hair. 

“Listen, Jimin—” He lets his arm sink to look at him. “It can’t happen again. None of it. You—” He sighs. “You have a big heart. You’ve always had so much love to give and not many opportunities to do so but— whatever this is,” He gestures at the door through which Jungkook disappeared. “It ends here. Do you understand?” 

Jimin’s mouth feels dry and his throat tight. 

This is bullshit. He doesn’t love Jungkook. Maybe he’s not as scared of him anymore. Maybe he likes being around him sometimes. And maybe, mixed with this weird type of curiosity, it made him make mistakes but—nothing bad happened, right? He’s fine. Jungkook is fine. Everything is fine, so why is this made into such an issue? He’s not a fucking child. 

Namjoon stares at Jimin and when Jimin doesn’t answer, he swivels around on his chair with a huff and collects some of the notes scattered on his desk into a pile before typing in the password to unlock his computer, not looking at Jimin when he continues. 

“I’ll talk to Yoongi later. From now on, Jungkook will be staying with us.” 

Jimin gawks. 

“What?” There is a rush starting up in his ears, bitter anger rising up his throat. “You don’t get to decide that!” 

“I do.” 

“And what gives you the right?!” 

Namjoon turns to look at him with a confused frown. “I’m concerned about you. I do this to keep you safe. That should be reason enough.” 

“I’m not a fucking child, I don’t need your protection!” 

“Well, clearly you do!” 

“I can make my own decision!” 

“And what kind of decisions are those?” Namjoon scoffs. “Decisions that put you in danger, that put your life on the line just because of a little crush!” 

“I don’t have a crush!” Jimin feels sick and kinda tired and really out of his depth right now. He’s never had an argument like this with Namjoon before. He’s also unsure why he feels so strongly about this. His emotions are running wild, the thoughts in his brain all scattered. He should probably leave before he says something stupid. 

“You know what, this conversation is over. Jungkook will stay with me and that’s that. If you work really hard, he’ll be gone very soon anyway.” The words taste bitter on his tongue. “Right? So do your best and turn him back, so he can fucking leave.” 

He turns around and makes his way to the door with quick steps, his legs shaking a little bit, his fingers trembling when he reaches for the door handle.  

“He will not stay anywhere near you!” 

Jimin whirls around in another spike of anger. “Again: You don’t have the right to decide that!”  

Namjoon jumps to his feet. “I do! We’re family!” 

“You know who was also my ‘family’,” Jimin scoffs, before he can stop himself. “And loved to make decisions for me?” His eyes are burning, a thick lump forming in his throat. He’s being unfair now and he knows it. 

He feels bad when Namjoon blanches. 

“Don’t— Don’t compare me to that monster—” 

“Then stop acting like him.” Jimin’s voice wavers and he turns around right in time to hide the single angry tear that rolls down his cheek. He yanks the door open.

“Jimin!” 

He ignores Namjoon’s call and lets the door fall shut behind him, swallowing whatever the other had to say. 

When he steps out of the building, he finds Jungkook leaning with his back against the wall right next to the door, the afternoon sun reflecting in the silver buckle of his belt. Jimin doesn’t meet his eyes and when he passes him, just keeps walking wordlessly. The other follows, trailing after him in silence. 

Jimin is sure his dragon ears have heard everything. He’s also sure that, right now, he can smell all the ugly emotions inside Jimin. 

Shame, guilt, anger, regret—

He shouldn’t have said what he did, he shouldn’t even have suggested any kind of similarity between Namjoon and his father. Not after everything Namjoon has done for him. And because, obviously, there is none. Namjoon is his family. His father never was. Namjoon loves him. His father never did. Jimin loves Namjoon. He never loved his father. Namjoon has never abused him, Namjoon has never put him in danger, Namjoon— Namjoon just wants to protect him. 

And Jimin acted like a spoiled brat. 

He blinks away another wave of tears welling in his eyes. 

He said he’s not a child and can make his own decisions, yet he acted like one. 

And over what? 

The rhythmic sounds of Jungkook’s footsteps behind him are surprisingly light on the asphalt for how big and heavy his boots are, almost drowned out by the rush of the traffic making its way out of the city center which they’re currently heading towards.  

Jimin is glad when they step into the shadows of the first couple of buildings, the skin under his turtleneck burning with heat from the evening sun. 

The silence between them stretches on until they arrive at the apartment building and make their way up the stairs. Jimin pulls his key from his pocket, jamming it into the lock. Before he turns it he pauses and looks at Jungkook over his shoulder.

“Do you wanna live with Namjoon and Yoongi until the antidote is done?” 

Jungkook’s expression remains completely neutral. He doesn’t frown, he doesn’t seem confused or surprised by Jimin’s question, he doesn’t laugh, he just looks at him and shakes his head lightly. 

“No.” 

Jimin nods. “Okay.” 

Then he opens the door for them to step inside.

After heating up the leftover lasagna from the day before and eating in complete silence, Jimin excuses himself to the bathroom, where he takes a long shower, washing away some of the heavy tension and stress that has built up during the past hours. 

By the time he steps out of the bathroom, the sun has already set and Jungkook is sitting in the living room, watching – but not really paying attention to – some kind of documentary about penguins, seemingly lost in thought, rubbing a spot on his arm, right above his elbow. His claws lightly scratch over the simple lines and geometric shapes of one of the runes he has tattooed there. 

His hair is down, falling in soft black waves over his shoulder as he stares at the TV straight ahead absentmindedly. 

Jimin approaches him quietly on bare feet, sinking down on the couch next to him.

“What does it mean?” He asks, glancing at the rune above Jungkook’s elbow.

The other looks at him somewhat confused, before following his line of sight. 

“Oh.” He pulls his hand away from his elbow. “It’s the symbol of the star I was born under, connected to the one of the day I became tribe leader.” 

Jimin lets his gaze wander over the black ink, his gaze trailing the shapes and lines. 

“So— It’s a cultural thing?” He asks the questions quietly and carefully, doesn’t want to overstep. “Do all dragons have their stars tattooed?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Some have but it’s not really a cultural thing— or maybe it is, but— they’re more like markings. They mark me as Zelkath, making it easier for everyone around me to identify me.”

“So, signs of prestige?” 

Jungkook snorts. “More like warning signs.” 

He trails his claw over his upper arm and Jimin’s eyes follow the thin white trail where he scratches his skin. 

“Many dragons are tattooed, but not like this. These mark me as a danger to our kind, as something to be wary of.” 

Jimin frowns. He knows Zelkaths are born when two leaders have a baby to merge their tribes, making those offsprings a lot stronger and more dangerous than normal dragons. But he always thought Zelkaths are admired and worshiped for what they are.

“There are many rules where I come from. And one of the rules is that dragons like me are not allowed to exist.” 

Jimin’s eyes snap up to look at him. Jungkook grimaces. 

“It’s not like my kind is killed or something but— Usually, it’s forbidden for two leaders from different tribes to have a child because of the powers that child will possess. Usually, two tribe leaders would never have a child to begin with because we’re all pretty much at enmity with each other. It doesn’t happen often that tribes decide to merge. But when they do, the leaders – if they have a child – are required to mark it clearly as Zelkath so that everyone knows. So that everyone can tell from afar to run.” Jungkook snorts and leans back with crossed arms. 

“And should they?” 

“What?” 

“Should they run?” Jimin clarifies. “When they see you from afar.” 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, a small smile flashing across his lips. 

“Yes. If they are not my tribe, they should.” 

Jimin swallows thickly. Suddenly, he itches to see it. Jungkook’s full power, his leadership, his dominance when dealing with enemies— 

“So you are loyal to them?” 

“Very. Just as much as they’re loyal to me. Tribes with a Zelkath leader don’t have to fear a single thing in the world.” There is a short moment of silence before Jungkook speaks up again. “I would sacrifice everything for them.” He averts his eyes, the look inside them turning hard as he stares into the distance emptily. “But now I’m here—” 

He trails off and there is something tense pulling at the atmosphere around them. For the first time Jimin realizes that Jungkook is worrying about them. Not only don’t they have any idea where he is or that he’s still alive, but he isn’t around to protect them. 

“Just because I was too lenient,” Jungkook mumbles.

“Lenient about what?” 

The other sighs. “Some of our younglings kept venturing into the human world close to our borders.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course they weren’t allowed to leave but they kept sneaking out. I should’ve just grounded them. But they were so young, so curious—  And we are dragons. Even the young ones are stronger than any human. What could’ve possibly happened, right?” He chuckles again, running a hand through his hair. “Every now then, whenever I had the time, I followed them. Without them knowing of course. Just to make sure, just to keep an eye on them. How could I have known that I would end up being the one followed and hunted? How could I have known about your medicine that makes even the biggest dragons pass out?” 

The tension makes it hard to breathe, Jimin’s entire body rigid and he doesn’t dare to move.

“In the end it was probably a good thing,” Jungkook mumbles. “Their dragon traits weren’t as prominent yet. They probably were only overlooked because I was around and all the focus was on me. Then, one day, that guy approached me and—” He barks out a laugh that has Jimin jump. “I never saw him again at your place, I wonder what happened to him.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve killed him. Right when he approached me I knew something was off. But there were so many humans around, I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself— “ He scoffs. “I was naive. I should’ve just killed everyone in that goddamn pub, I shouldn't have hesitated because he sure as hell didn’t. Before I knew what was happening, I had a needle in my throat and sedatives in my veins and passed out.”

Jimin can hear the regret in his voice, can basically see the anger building inside him in the way a muscle in his jaw clenches, in the restlessness of his leg that starts bouncing. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Jungkook looks at him with a frown, his eyes traveling over Jimin’s face, before he shrugs, his shoulders slowly relaxing. 

“It is what it is.” He leans back. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I won’t hesitate like that ever again.” 

There is a stretch of silence and Jimin has to take a deep breath to shake some of the tension off. His eyes drop to Jungkook’s arm again, getting stuck on three small circles right above his wrist bone, which are partially overlapping. He’s noticed that specific tattoo several times before because it seems random and a bit out of place.

“What does this one mean?” He points at it. “The three circles.” 

Jungkook looks down at his arm and snorts. “It means idiot.” 

“What?” Jimin chuckles. 

“It was a bet with my best friend. He has the same one. The three circles are an inside joke, because when we were kids, Taehyung had that funny—” He trails off, his eyes growing a bit wide and Jimin can see him biting his tongue, as if he regrets sharing this much. 

“Taehyung—” Jimin smiles softly. “Is that his name?” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles. “That’s his name.” 

It’s quiet for a while, the narrator’s monotone voice coming from the TV – telling them facts about penguins’ nesting habits – nothing but a static background noise. 

“He must be very important to you for you to share tattoos with him,” Jimin says after a moment. He doesn’t want to pry but this is the first time he’s heard anything about Jungkook’s life and the fact that Jungkook seems at least somewhat comfortable to tell him about it has a tingling kind of warmth spread in his chest.

“He’s like a brother to me.” Jungkook’s eyes are fixated on the tattoo. “He’s my family. This area,” Jungkook taps the spot above his wrist where the three circles are. “Is where I’d have my brothers’ birth stars tattooed, if I had any siblings. Here–” He taps his wrist on the other side. “Would be the tattoos for sisters.”

“The placements are set?” 

Jungkook nods. “Most dragons carry symbols for their families and ancestors. This one—” He trails his fingertips over a small symbol in the crock of his arm, that looks a bit like a flower with an arrow through the middle, delicate among the thick lines of the runes around it. “Represents my mother.” 

Jimin makes an understanding sound. 

“And your father?” 

He knows it was the wrong kind of question when Jungkook’s face hardens. 

“None for my father.” 

“Oh—” 

Awkwardly Jimin searches his brain in a desperate attempt to change the topic but before he can come up with something, Jungkook goes on. 

“He killed my mother when I was still a youngling.”

Jimin’s fingers grow cold, his stomach dropping as he watches Jungkook caress the symbol. 

“And then I killed him.” 

When their eyes meet, Jimin can see a hint of sadness in them, but it’s almost completely overshadowed by a fierce look of determination. 

“That’s how you became leader of your tribe?” 

Jungkook nods. “He never wanted me to be born. Even for a Zelkath I was strong and he knew I would surpass them both eventually, so he wanted to get rid of me. My mother refused and she had the whole tribe to back her up. She was much-loved by everyone and favored over my father even by the dragons who came from his side of the tribe. He hated her for it. And he hated me. He wanted to get rid of me so badly but he knew he could never do it as long as she was around.” He swallows thickly. “He was a fucking fool. He underestimated me. And he deserved everything I did to him.” 

Jimin just nods. In a way, he understands Jungkook. He always had the suspicion that his own father killed his mother too. He was still a baby back then and throughout the years he was never able to find out the truth, but there always was this feeling— If he would’ve been stronger and less of a coward, if he wouldn’t let his father intimidate him so much, maybe he could’ve also done it. He wanted to. God knows how much. 

“I wish I could’ve killed my father too—” He whispers. 

Jungkook’s eyes burn into him and it takes a while for him to speak up. 

“He did some fucked up shit to you, didn’t he?”

Jimin licks his lips. Compared to what he did to others, Jimin probably got off lightly but ultimately— yes, his father did some fucked up shit to him too. 

“Yeah—” 

“You were scared of him.” 

“Very.” 

“To the point where you almost accidentally killed yourself.” 

Jimin ducks his head, still embarrassed about that night. 

“His go-to weapon was poison and the only way to protect myself from it was to—” He searches for the right words. “To build up an armor, so to speak. It’s called mithridatism. Taking small doses of poison regularly, so your body gets used to it. My body got used to it a bit too much— Now it’s hard for me to stop.”

“Mithridatism,” Jungkook says slowly as if tasting the word on his tongue. “What an ugly word.” 

Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, what an ugly word.” 

An ugly word for an ugly thing. Ugly, because Jimin wishes he’d never had to do it. Ugly, because it made and still makes him sick. Ugly, because it almost killed him. Ugly, because it’s the one thing that still reminds him very vividly of his father. As much as he’s dreading running out of the poison, he’s also looking forward to the moment he has to stop. Because that will be the moment, he’ll finally be able to free himself from his past a bit more. 

“I hated everyone at that godforsaken place,” Jungkook suddenly says. Their eyes meet and immediately, the tightness in Jimin’s chest is back. “Including you.” 

Jimin averts his gaze. 

“Do you want to know what made me hate you the most?” 

Jimin shakes his head. Then he nods. 

“You cared.” At that, Jimin looks up. There is a small frown on the other’s face. “You sang for the mermaids. You made sure the pixies and elves were protected from the light. You fed the unicorns brown sugar and honey. You—” He chuckles. A hollow sound. “You fucking cared and—” For a moment he pauses and shakes his head before his eyes find Jimin’s again. “And that you made it so hard for me to hate you—That made me hate you even more.”  

Jimin fiddles with the hem of his shirt, a little bit embarrassed, and a little bit nervous.  

“The singing and stuff— You knew about all that?” 

“Of course I did. I have superior hearing, superior sense of smell—” Jungkook shrugs. “Overall, I’m just uniquely superior.” 

Jimin chuckles. “Including your ego.” 

Jungkook throws his head back and laughs and some of the tension slips from Jimin’s shoulders at the sight, the atmosphere slightly relaxing. 

“I guess.” 

Jimin sighs. “I felt bad for them. For you.” At Jimin’s words Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “I hated what he— What we did to them—” 

What we did to you. 

“And I wanted to make it easier for them.” 

For you. 

“I wanted them to be less afraid. It wasn’t much and I wish I could’ve done more, I wish— I wish I could’ve put an end to all what was happening, I wish I could’ve saved them all. But I was too—” Jimin chews on his lower lip. Too afraid, too petrified, too much of a coward— “Too weak.” 

Jungkook nods, his gaze dropping to Jimin’s fingers still tugging on the fabric, trailing over the bruises on his wrists. 

A small frown appears on his face, his own fingers twitching. Then he inhales deeply.

“I want you to know something.”

Jimin makes a questioning sound. 

“When those people came—The ones who killed your father—They took the small ones first. The pixies, the elves, the gnomes…” 

Jimin sits up tall.

“Then they came for the bigger ones.” Jungkook chuckles. “They made the mistake of starting with me.” 

He looks at Jimin. 

“I killed most of them, the rest I scared off.” A small grin spreads on his lips. “And they left before they could get the mermaid and the unicorn.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen. “Kalliope and Pearl?” 

“Yep.”

“But—” He shakes his head. “But they were gone too— When we came downstairs-” 

“I took them.” 

What?

Jimin’s heart starts pounding beneath his ribs.

“You— what?” 

“I got them out of there.” Jungkook laughs before going on. “It wasn’t easy. That fish woman was heavier than you’d think and that unicorn tried to fucking kick me because it was so scared, but eventually I got them out.” 

Jimin stares at him, his pulse fluttering rapidly in his throat. 

“Where are they?” He whispers. Before he can stop himself, he surges forward, grabbing Jungkook by his shirt, his balled fists trembling around the fabric. “Jungkook, where are they?! Are they okay? Are they safe?!” 

Jungkook grabs his bruised wrists but he doesn’t push him off, holds him almost gently. 

“They are okay.” 

Jimin’s breath hitches, his sight blurring. 

“I let one of the guys live just long enough so I could make him drive us to the beachfront in one of the vans. The merfolk is smart, they were already waiting for us there. They took her back, even though she’s lost her voice. As for Pearl—” 

He scowls.

“She did end up kicking me when I opened the van to let her out. Hurt like a motherfucker for such a dainty thing. She ran away but a few weeks later, when I was wandering the woods searching for my settlement, I saw her again. She was with a pegasus that wouldn’t let me near her.” Through his blurry vision, Jimin sees him smile. “I think she’s well protected, even with some of her powers gone.”

The hard lump that has started forming in Jimin’s throat is making it hard to breathe. 

Kalliope and Pearl are okay. 

They are free. 

They have not been taken, they are not trapped any longer. They are safe. 

A sob tears from his throat. 

They are safe. 

Another heavy sob. And another one. And then his shoulders shake when he starts crying uncontrollably. It’s embarrassingly loud and wet and he can’t stop it. 

Tear after tear keeps streaming down his face, dropping from his chin, landing in Jungkook’s lap and then in Jungkook’s shirt, when the sudden pressure of a hand at the back of his head pushes him into the other’s chest. 

The gentle gesture makes Jimin cry even harder as he presses his face into the other’s warm body, soaking his shirt with tears, his hands trembling where they clutch at the fabric. It goes on and on and on and Jimin doesn’t know why he’s crying so much but he knows the gentle stroke of Jungkook’s hand through his hair is not helping at all to make it stop. 

He feels relieved and sorry. 

So sorry. For Kalliope and Pearl, who now have to live their lives weak, dependent on others and with their powers suppressed. 

But they are safe. They are out there and safe and hopefully happy. 

After a while, when his loud sobs have quieted down and turned into tiny hiccups, the flow of his tears dried out, he lifts his head. His heart misses a beat when he comes face to face with Jungkook and his green eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice trembling. 

The stroke of the other’s fingers in his hair stops. He shakes his head. 

“No need to thank me, I just did-” 

Jimin cuts him off by leaning in and sliding their lips together and only a second later, they melt into each other. Jimin feels Jungkook’s heartbeat against his own chest, feels his jaw moving when he parts his lips, their tongues meeting softly. 

It feels new.

Jungkook’s mouth and tongue are hot and soft and their kiss is careful and gentle and full of emotions, it tastes like tears and it breaks Jimin’s chest open. He tries to keep breathing, inhales Jungkook’s scent, wraps his arms around the other’s neck to push himself closer. 

He feels hot and cool, featherlight and heavy all at once. 

Something about it scares him, but he doesn’t want to stop. 

He pulls back slowly, their lips parting with a smack. 

“Jungkook,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from the other’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear and letting his fingers slide down the length of it. He swallows thickly.

“Come to bed?” 

A flicker of surprise crosses Jungkook’s face, his glazed over eyes widening. 

Then he nods.

Wordlessly, Jimin gets up and takes his hand. Wordlessly, he leads him out of the living room and down the hallway. 

Just as wordlessly, Jungkook follows him. 

For a moment it feels weird, seeing Jungkook inside his room. For a moment after the door has fallen shut, his presence seems too big, too much to be contained by this small space. 

But when they sink down on Jimin’s bed together, everything feels just right. 

Their lips find each other again and Jimin gets lost in it. Gets lost in Jungkook’s presence above him, in the rustling of the sheets, in the soft touch of Jungkook’s fingers on his skin as he undresses him slowly while sucking on his lower lip, running his fingers through his hair. 

When they are finally completely naked, their clothes scattered on the bed around them, Jungkook sinks between his legs. He takes Jimin into his hand first, then into his mouth, he’s careful with him, he strokes and licks and sucks and Jimin arches in the sheets, loud breaths and quiet moans falling from his lips at the gentle touches.

He feels hot, so so hot, and then almost feverish when Jungkook slides lower and licks him there too. 

Down there, Jimin is still soft and pliant from this morning, his body remembering the touch, craving it. He releases shuddering breath after shuddering breath, his hands finding Jungkook’s hair, feeling the silky strands between his fingers and Jungkook hums at the touch, the sound making Jimin feel all warm and wet and soft and hard and there is this need centering in his stomach. 

“Please—” He whispers. 

Jungkook pulls back and slowly kisses his way back up Jimin’s body, every touch of his mouth hot on Jimin’s skin, the tiny bite to his nipple sending zaps of pleasure through his body. After trailing his lips over Jimin’s neck, Jungkook pushes himself up on his hands, looking down at him, his eyes sultry, his lips wet and red and parted. They quirk into a small smile.

“You’re drooling everywhere,” he chuckles and the gesture seems almost fond when he brings his thumb to Jimin’s face to wipe the drool off that has slipped from the corner of his mouth. 

Jimin turns his head to the side in embarrassment, his cheek burning hot but a grip around his chin applying gentle pressure forces him to look at Jungkook again.

“None of that,” the other scolds. Then he slides both palms down Jimin’s front, over his waist and to his thighs, hoisting them up. 

Immediately, Jimin’s legs wrap around the curve of Jungkook’s hips, pulling him in. 

Jungkook chuckles again and it shouldn’t be as hot as it is when he pulls the hair tie, he keeps around his wrist, off and ties his hair up with quick movements, the muscles of his arms flexing while doing so. Then he leans over Jimin to pull the bottle of lube out of the bedside drawer, lube that Jimin himself has almost forgotten about. He frowns.

“How-?”

Jungkook grins. “That strawberry scent isn’t very subtle.”

Jimin can only nod and stare as Jungkook slicks himself up before taking hold of Jimin’s waist again with his clean hand, the lube covered one grabbing his cock, guiding it between Jimin’s cheeks. 

Jimin’s breath hitches, his fingers curling in the sheets. 

When Jungkook pushes inside he does so slowly, watching with his emerald eyes as he sinks deeper and deeper into Jimin, filling him up accompanied by the squelching sound of slick lubricant. And while he slides into him, his thumb on Jimin’s waist keeps rubbing small circles into a spot right above his hip bone. The intimacy of the small gesture makes Jimin’s heart tremble while his body trembles from the pleasure of the stretch, from the overwhelming heat and the fullness. 

When Jungkook starts moving, he does so nice and slow. 

There is a glimmer in his eyes when they travel over the length of Jimin’s body, taking him in, and it has Jimin burn hot and pull tight and then he loses all track of time when Jungkook starts fucking him thoroughly. 

The air between them turns thick and loaded, filled with their whimpers and gasps and broken moans, the rustling of the sheets, the faint creaking of the mattress and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Jimin reaches out and trails his palms over the other’s stomach, his chest, feels goosebumps erupt on soft skin, feels the cock inside him throb, feels his own precum forming and dripping down, landing on his stomach. 

Soon, he rocks his ass back against Jungkook’s hips, his moans turning needier, mixing with Jungkook’s groans and hums of approval. Hands slip underneath the back of his knees and push his legs up further. When Jungkook turns his head to kiss Jimin’s ankle, Jimin’s face starts glowing, his heartbeat spiraling completely out of control. 

There is something weirdly familiar about the way their bodies roll against each other, about the way they find a rhythm. They move relentlessly, their hips snapping quicker and quicker and quicker, until heat pulses through Jimin’s body from the point where Jungkook is sliding in and out of him, heat that makes his stomach tense, that makes him forget about everything except Jungkook. 

Whispered curses leave the other’s lips but Jimin can’t really hear or see or think. His body starts quivering and he reaches out blindly.

“Jungkook—” 

Immediately, a warm chest presses against his own, a hand stroking his cheek, their lips and tongues meeting again. The kiss is deep and all-consuming. It takes Jimin’s breath away and gives it right back, it makes his heart explode, it makes his stomach swoop.

I love you.

It makes him burn and shudder and clench and then he’s coming with a sudden boiling rush, his cock throbbing wetly where it’s trapped between their naked bodies. 

I love you.

Jimin’s eyes are tearing up and he feels Jungkook come through a blur, feels his mouth going slack against his own, sees his eyes falling shut in front of him, a long moan vibrating against his chest as he tenses, pressing deep into Jimin, before he comes with a full-body shudder. 

Jimin’s mind is in shambles. 

His own body is still jittering with the aftershocks and then the tears start flowing. 

He cries, he sobs. 

Knuckles stroke over his cheek. 

“Are you hurt?” 

Jimin shakes his head.

“Why are you crying?” Jungkook whispers, kissing his tears away. “Jimin, why are you sad?” He’s too gentle, too kind. 

And Jimin loves him.

Oh God.

He loves him.

And soon he’ll be forever gone. 

The tears feel hot on Jimin’s cheeks, his eyes are burning, he’s tired, and he realizes that – maybe – love is very similar to mithridatism. 

Maybe, he should’ve poisoned himself slowly. One kiss at a time. 

Instead, he accidentally took an overdose. 

He must’ve fallen asleep.

That’s Jimin’s first and only thought, before he realizes that something is horribly wrong. 

His eyes snap open the very moment he’s yanked off the bed by his legs, crashing into the wooden floor with a yelp and a painful thud, the impact forcing all air from his lungs, a dull pain shooting through his hip bone. He’s disoriented, blinded by the sudden flaring light in the room and all he sees are several pairs of boots, all he hears are the sounds of fighting, grunts and groans, scuffling of shoes, voices shouting and yelling, voices he doesn’t recognize except for— 

Jungkook.

A surge of panic grips his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. He jumps to his feet, but before he can fully stand up, he’s pushed down again, something hard and heavy pressing between his shoulder blades. 

“Stay down,” someone hisses.  

He trashes under the weight of the boot on his back.

“Let me go!” He screams, trying to roll over. “Who are you?! Let me go!”

Chapter Text

When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

“Let me go!” He screams, trying to roll over. “Who are you?! Let me go!” 

His attacker curses loudly and in a whirlwind of motion Jimin is yanked to his feet, his back colliding with a chest, a rough hand clamping over his mouth, stifling his startled shout. He squirms, trying to break free, but the press of something hard against his temple makes him still in horror. 

“Don’t fucking move.”

Nausea crawls up his throat and he blinks the blurriness from his eyes, breathing harshly against the palm. The moment his brain catches on with the sight in front him, he freezes entirely.

Jungkook is on the ground by the door, lying on his stomach, his face partially covered by strands of hair. Four people– four men, dressed in all black, are holding him down, putting all their body weight on his arms, pushing their knees into his back. The lower halves of their faces are hidden behind black face masks, and Jimin wonders why Jungkook isn’t fighting back, why he isn’t doing anything, until he notices the thick needle that’s pulled from the side of his neck, leaving a trickle of blood behind.  

What are they doing?! He starts struggling again before he remembers the gun and stills.

The guy who is holding the syringe gets to his feet on visibly shaky legs, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tosses it into the corner, where it lands with a loud clank. A pained groan comes from one of the others, who rolls off of Jungkook, holding his hand to his chest, blood running down his forearm. 

“Shit,” he hisses. “It ripped my fucking finger off.”

“Get it checked when we’re back,” the other says before he turns around, limping his way to another person who’s lying on the ground not far off, face-down, motionless. “Hey!” He kicks the guy’s side. Nothing. With a curse he crouches down and rolls him on his back, revealing a puddle of dark blood. Jimin averts his eyes at the sight of ripped fabric and a slashed throat, wounds stemming from claws. “Shit—” 

“Is he dead?”

“Yeah.” He sighs before getting up. “Hey boss!” He shouts into the general direction of the door: “We got the dragon!” 

For a moment nothing happens. Then footsteps make their way down the hallway, coming closer and closer and Jimin’s heart is hammering, tears welling up in his eyes. Who are these people?!

“That was surprisingly easy.” 

A shudder crawls along Jimin’s spine, his brain trying to place the weirdly familiar voice. When a figure rounds the corner of the doorway, wearing a mask too, polished dress shoes stepping over Jungkook’s limp form, the nagging feeling grows that he knows that person, who clicks his tongue when he catches sight of Jimin and the guy holding him at gunpoint.

“We said no guns.” 

Only a moment later, the weapon sinks down.

“Too loud, you know.” He winks at Jimin, stepping further into the room. 

Where the hell does Jimin know him from?

“Do you remember me?” 

Jimin shakes his head, to which the guy brings a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, Jimin, it’s been barely a year—” Then he pulls his mask down. 

It takes a moment for Jimin to recognize him. His nose looks somewhat different, a bit smaller maybe, and there is an unnatural curve to his upper lip— but at the sight of thin pinkish scars running along his jawline it clicks.

Kim Doyoon. 

Jimin’s eyes grow wide. What the fuck?!

He starts thrashing around again, trying to break free, opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the fingers silencing him, biting down as hard as he can until he tastes coppery blood. The guy behind him curses and yanks his hand away.

“Wat the fuck do you want?” Jimin rasps as he keeps struggling. “What did you inject him with?” 

The palm is about to slap over his mouth again but Jimin turns his head just in time. 

“Help!” He screams. “Hel-hmph-” 

This time, the grip around his face is too hard to break away from. 

Doyoon sighs deeply, looking Jimin’s naked form up and down in a way that’s almost pitiful. Then he turns to one of the other people in the room, who is – as Jimin only now realizes – holding a silver metal case. 

“Give me the purple one,” he says, holding his hand out.  

Jimin’s heart is hammering in his chest, his breathing coming in short shallow gasps and he’s not able to get enough air into his lungs with this goddamn hand on his mouth. His stomach twists in knots, his blood running cold when Doyoon is handed a syringe, silver, with a small purple sticker on it. Nothing reveals what’s inside and he shakes his head frantically when Doyoon approaches him with it. 

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be over in a blink.” 

With all the strength he can muster, he throws himself against the chest behind him, the force making the guy stumble back, his hand slipping from his mouth and Jimin uses the opportunity to take deep breaths, still struggling to free himself.

“What’s in there?! Stay away from me, you piece of shit!” His voice is wavering “Fucking stay a-hmph!” The hand clamps back over his mouth just when Doyoon comes to a halt in front of him, his eyes roaming over Jimin’s exposed body once more. 

“It’s a bit of a shame,” he says, holding up the syringe to remove the plastic cover from the needle. “You really are quite cute. But definitely not worth the-” 

“Leave him alone—” 

Jungkook’s strained voice interrupts him from the door, followed by a pained groan, and Jimin’s heart sinks when he looks at him. He’s on his knees, his hands bound behind his back, a thick metal collar around his neck, connected to a heavy chain. The guy who injected him earlier yanks on it, causing him to lose balance and crash into the floor, his chest heaving in pain. He struggles to get to his knees again, swaying, his eyelids dropping slowly. 

What have those fuckers given him? 

Jimin glares at Doyoon, who just smiles. Sickly sweet. Disgusting. That horrible nose job he’s obviously gotten since the last time they saw each other makes him look like a grotesque puppet. Jimin tries to back away, tries to evade the needle when the other brings the syringe to his neck, his heart hammering faster and faster.

“Stay away from him!” He hears Jungkook’s panicked shout and that’s when the icy fingers of panic clutch his throat too. What the hell is in there?! His sobs mingle with a guttural pleading sound.

And then everything happens in a blur. 

The sting of the needle piercing his skin and sliding into his neck is nothing compared to the excruciating pain when, whatever it is, is injected into his body. It spreads like liquid fire, searing his veins, scorching his nerves, and Jimin chokes on his scream, his vision blurring. 

Only a heartbeat later, the pain is gone. 

And then his bones feel as if they can hold no more strength, his muscles all out of power.

When the hold around him disappears, he slides to the ground, slamming down knees-first, toppling over sideways, his shoulder crashing into the wooden floor. He feels the impact, but there’s no pain, he’s entirely numb.

From down there, through the blurriness clouding his sight, he sees Jungkook sniffing the air, swaying on his knees.

“It’s your—It’s your father’s poison—,” he slurs. 

Doyoon barks out a laugh above him. 

“Exactly. Gonna get killed by daddy’s poison just like daddy himself, isn’t that cute? Just like it was meant to be a year ago.” He steps over Jimin’s curled up form and to the door, where he lands a painfully looking kick in Jungkook’s side. “Now get fucking moving. Someone take the body.” 

Jungkook is still staring at Jimin when they force him out of the door and Jimin’s head is swimming, darkness creeping in from his peripherals. 

Where are you taking him?

Only when they’ve all disappeared, only when he hears the front door fall shut, he starts to understand.

It’s your father’s poison.

It’s a poison his body is used to.

He’s never injected it before, his bloodstream has never gotten hit with it so abruptly, and unfortunately he has just started decreasing the amounts, but there is a chance— 

He can survive this. 

Jimin’s room has transformed into a surreal world of distorted shapes, everything around him twisting and turning, his reality merging into something unrecognizable. 

One moment he’s sinking into the deepest darkness, his consciousness slipping away, the next his mind slams back into his body almost painfully, as if his brain has been split in two, each half pulling him into different directions. 

His chest is tight, his pulse hammering in irregular patterns, his limbs heavy and numb, sweat beading on his forehead.

He can't breathe.

Breathe.

He opens his mouth, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. He’s unable to move where he’s lying on the floor, nothing but whispered words coming out of his throat when he tries to scream for help, whispered words that are being lost in the chaos of his mind. 

Whenever he surfaces from the darkness, he tries to cling to his surroundings. He can see the walls of his room, can see the phone on his nightstand, can hear it buzz with an incoming call. 

Help. 

He’s trapped in a never-ending loop of sliding between here and now and far away, he’s disconnected, he’s trapped, he’s unable to escape. In a fleeting moment of clarity, he wonders if Namjoon and Yoongi are okay or if they got them too. He wonders what happened to Jungkook. 

He can't breathe. 

Fucking breathe.

The walls are closing in and stretching out in a bizarre dance that makes his stomach churn. The air is heavy and too thick to fit through his windpipe. Jimin feels himself sliding deeper into his own mind, losing touch with the world around him, his breathing growing more and more shallow, his body yearning for oxygen, terror slithering through his veins. 

Is this death?

He’s covered in sweat, his head spinning, his damp fingers trembling around his phone and it slides out of his grasp, clattering to the floor. He blinks against the brightness of the screen, his consciousness slowly slipping away again.

“Jimin?” 

The voice is blaring loudly through the room, the noise stabbing into a spot right behind Jimin’s left eye. 

“Why didn’t you call?! I know you’re angry with me but— we agreed on every day at 8! You didn’t even pick up your phone, that’s not okay!” 

Bile rises in his throat when the room starts spinning. 

“Jimin?” 

His lips are dry when he parts them, his tongue too big for his mouth.

“Jimin?!”

He can't breathe. 

“Help—” He whispers. 

He can hear distant voices, muffled, as if he’s under water, barely audible and yet hauntingly present.

Are they real? Are they his imagination?

A soft touch of hand. Soothing. 

Jimin clings to it desperately. 

“I should’ve known it was them,” Yoongi mutters, pulling another piece of Jimin’s clothing from the drying rack before folding it. 

For two days Jimin has sweat through multiple shirts and pants, has soiled the covers of Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s pillows in their spare room not only with sweat and tears but also with puke when they tried to get him to eat something for the first time. 

By now, he’s feeling better. There are still random tremors rolling over his body, he’s still boneless and weak, and there is still that saccharin taste of poison at the back of his throat, but he can breathe and eat again. 

He tugs the blanket tighter around himself where he’s sitting on the couch. 

“What do you mean?” He asks while Namjoon emerges from the kitchen, handing him a freshly brewed cup of tea.

“The ones who killed your father,” Yoongi looks at Jimin briefly before getting back to folding his clothes. “The ones who took the creatures. Back then—I had that weird feeling about them. Mr. Kim and Doyoon. I was at front gate duty when they arrived for that dinner, gave them the regular security check and everything. Couldn’t put my finger on it back then, but something about them was off.” 

“They were probably just there to check the place out,” Namjoon says, sinking down on the couch next to Jimin. 

Yoongi nods. “Probably.” 

“They were very interested in Jungkook,” Jimin mumbles, replaying all the moments in his mind that he remembers from the night he was showing Doyoon around the basement. He chuckles tiredly. “I even showed him around downstairs. He saw everything.”

“Your father wanted you to.” 

“I know,” Jimin sighs and takes a sip of the steaming hot liquid, burning his tongue in the process.

He knows it’s technically not his fault. And in a way he’s not even regretting it because that attack is how Jungkook got out, how Kalliope and Pearl were saved. 

But still, he can’t stop thinking— If he did some things differently, if he would’ve been more careful— Not necessarily back then but more so in the past weeks. He wandered around with Jungkook outside, let him come to his workplace, went with him to the park, to the mall… That’s probably how they found them. 

They obviously had no interest in Jimin. All they wanted was Jungkook. 

Jimin sets his cup to the side and pulls his blanket-covered legs in, resting his forehead on his knees. 

Jungkook.

He hopes he’s okay. 

Maybe he managed to escape. And if not—Wherever he is, whatever they are doing to him, Jimin hopes he’s somehow okay. 

His throat constricts, his eyes burning. He wishes there was something he could do. He wishes he could get him back. He wishes he wouldn’t be this— this fucking helpless. Just like back then, he’s weak. 

“God, I hope he’s okay,” he whispers into the blanket, his lower lip trembling. “If I at least knew where they brought him—” He looks up and blinks the tears from his vision. “If I knew where they took him, I could at least— I don’t know,” he groans and presses the balls of his hands against his burning eyes. “I could at least try to do something,” he sniffles before letting his hands sink again. 

He feels so lost and the way the other two are looking at him, with expressions of concern and pity, isn’t helping. The way Namjoon scoots closer from the other end of the couch, putting a hand on his shoulder, isn’t helping either.

“It’s so unfair,” he whispers. “After fucking years he managed to break free, we were this close to finding a cure too, he was this close to going back to his family—” Something unforgivingly hard forms in his throat when he remembers the conversation he had with Jungkook about his tribe and their importance to him, driving more tears into his eyes. 

“And now some other assholes got him,” he drops his head on his knees again, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. With every new thought, every new memory popping up, he’s pulled deeper and deeper into the void of hopelessness.

“Jimin—” Namjoon sighs, tugging at his upper arm to pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” 

Jimin lets himself fall against the other’s chest. The position is awkward and the soothing rub between his shoulder blades makes his shoulders shake even more. 

He’s sad, he’s frustrated, he’s angry. With himself, with the world. 

He fucking hates this. 

It’s three days after Jimin started feeling like an actual human being again that he sets foot in his apartment for the first time after what happened. 

He’s not ready to sleep there yet, very much preferring the spare bedroom in Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s apartment, but he needs some clothes and wants to get his shampoo and bodywash. Even though Namjoon offers to get it for him, Jimin decides to do it himself. He asks the other to come with him though. 

The moment he steps into his apartment, he can tell Namjoon and Yoongi have been cleaning. It smells of sharp cleaning products and everything is tidy, but Jimin can still see the remnants of the fight that took place only a few nights before. The lower half of his bedroom door is weirdly dented and it won’t close anymore, his shoe cabinet in the hallway is entirely missing – Jimin suspects it got completely destroyed and Namjoon and Yoongi decided to throw it out – and the floor in his bedroom and hallway is littered with scratches, the wood splintering, its color lighter in the areas where they must’ve bleached out the blood stains. 

Jimin feels sick at the thought of Jungkook clawing at it in an attempt to escape and he only notices his breathing has gotten hectic when Namjoon places his hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing the area soothingly, his jaw tight as he takes the room in as well. 

“We’ll get everything fixed up in no time,” he promises. 

Jimin just nods before making his way to the bathroom to grab his stuff. He tries to ignore all the little reminders of Jungkook’s missing presence. He ignores the second towel, he ignores the hair ties on the vanity, right next to the rings that looked so stupidly good on his fingers—

Only once they have gotten back to Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s apartment upstairs, the door closing behind them, Jimin is able to breathe normally again. That’s when his phone buzzes.

It’s Viv, asking how he’s doing. Namjoon called in sick for him the first few days and even now Jimin keeps up the pretense that he’s still unwell. There’s no way he can go back to work yet. 

“I feel bad for lying to her,” he says while typing a response. 

Namjoon makes an understanding sound but when Jimin looks up at him, he seems far away. There’s a deep frown on his face, his lips pursing in the way they always do when he’s thinking deeply. 

“What is it?” 

When there’s no reaction, Jimin snaps his fingers.

“Joon?” 

That has the other blink, his gaze sliding into focus. 

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes somewhat wide. “It’s just— I just thought of something, I think— I have to go to the lab!” He hurries out of the living room and towards the front door, grabbing his jacket. 

“What? Now? Why?!” 

“I’m not sure!” The other stumbles while pulling on his shoes. “Tell Yoongi I’ll be late for dinner.” 

And then, like a whirlwind, he’s out the door. 

It’s shortly after midnight when Namjoon comes back and the only reason Jimin is still awake is because he can’t stop staring at the vial of poison on his bedside table, illuminated by moonlight.

Ever since his bloodstream was directly hit with an almost lethal dose, his addiction has gotten worse. The small amounts he used to take before don’t feel like enough anymore and without even trying to justify it in front of himself, he has upped the dosage again. What he took tonight was the most he did in a long time and still, his body wants more. 

He sighs and sits up, just about to reach out for the vial and his glass of water, when he hears the front door close quietly. He perks up. 

“What were you doing for so long?” He hears Yoongi whisper and he has to strain his ears to make out what he’s saying next. “You could’ve at least picked up your phone.” He sounds pissed. “I almost came to check on you!” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon murmurs in a hushed tone. “But Yoongs, I did it!” 

“You did what?” 

“The antidote—” 

That shakes Jimin fully awake, making him surge out of bed and to his feet with a frown. The antidote? For Jungkook? He pads towards the door and is just about to open it when Namjoon continues quietly.

“Is he asleep?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jimin pauses, leaning his head against the wood, listening to rustling and then the clanking of what sounds like vials or small glass bottles. 

“Wow it’s— it’s golden. This is it?” Yoongi whispers. 

“This is it.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I tested it on some of his blood and it worked perfectly. The idea came to me earlier when I saw the flooring in Jimin’s apartment, the splinters reminded me of the components and I realized that I could just—” He trails off. “Anyway, this is it.” 

Jimin frowns in the darkness. Why did Namjoon feel the need to do this? It’s not like it matters anymore. 

“You’re amazing,” Yoongi whispers, followed by a long stretch of silence. Jimin curls his freezing toes, cold and numb, and he remembers the poison he wanted to take. “Jungkook would be over the moon.” 

His heart squeezes because, yes, Jungkook would be so happy. Just remembering his expression when he saw the golden scales—Something tight forms in Jimin’s throat and he unsuccessfully tries to swallow it down.

“It’s over—” The words are uttered so quietly that Jimin isn’t sure who said them. Only when he goes on, he recognizes Yoongi’s voice. “It’s over, so why—why did you finish it?”

“I don’t know—”

Jimin holds his breath when muffled footsteps make their way down the hallway, entering the living room. Like this, he can still hear them talk but now he can’t make out what they’re saying anymore. He wonders if he should join them or if he should just take more of the poison and finally go to sleep. He’s tired and worn out and he isn’t sure if he’s got enough strength for a conversation about an antidote that’s useless now anyway. An antidote that came too late. 

Maybe it’s curiosity that makes him open the door, or maybe he’s just that much into the pain. He pads down the dark hallway towards the light that’s falling through the gap of the living room door. Now, their voices reach him again.

“—wondering if maybe this—even though it’s horrible—maybe it’s still—” Namjoon seems to search for the right words. “Maybe it’s for the best? Especially for Jimin.” 

Jimin halts in his steps.

“Now that they think he’s dead and now that they have what they wanted – Jungkook – he’s finally off their radar.”

“I know—” Yoongi whispers. “We should search for a new place to live, far away. There, we can start over. Again. But this time we are truly safe. He is truly safe.”

Jimin stands frozen in the middle of the hallway.

“Yes—that would be the only logical thing to do, right?”

Tense silence stretches on.

“Why did you finish the antidote, Joon?” 

There is a sigh. “I feel like I failed him.”

“Jungkook?”

“No. Jimin. I did—I said some things to him and I—” He sighs again, exhaustion edged into his voice. “Maybe I also kind of failed Jungkook. I don’t know.” There is a long pause. “He asked for help with the antidote and we did all we could. We tried, we repaid our debt by trying. Right? And now it’s too late and—” The couch creaks as someone slumps down on it. “I guess I still feel guilty.”  

“Joon—” Yoongi’s voice is weirdly shaky. “What if I told you—” There is the shuffle of feet, then the couch creaks again and the following words are nothing but a whisper, so quiet that Jimin isn’t sure if he’s heard right. 

“I think I know where they took him.” 

When the meaning of the words hit Jimin, all his muscles lock, his heart surging into his throat. 

“What?”

“I think—I’m not sure but—I asked a friend to help me track them down and I think—We didn’t find much but what we found makes so much sense-”

“Where?”

After a moment of silence, Yoongi sighs. “Promise that you won’t tell him, Joon. We can’t— It’s too dangerous. It’s just us and they are—I don’t know—a lot more people. We don’t know how many, but-” He groans and what he says next sounds muffled by hands. “I don’t know why I even looked into it—Maybe I felt guilty too.” 

The cold darkness of the hallway spreads on Jimin’s skin in the form of goosebumps, his blood pounding in his ears. Where is he?

“We did all we could, didn’t we?” He hears Namjoon whisper. “We did all we could to help him. This is something beyond our control.” He sounds like he has to convince himself by saying this. 

“Yes—”

There is a moment of silence, before Namjoon speaks up again.

“Where is he, Yoongi?” 

A nervous chitter crawls up Jimin’s legs and the words Yoongi says next send an icy chill down his spine.

“They can’t leave the country with him like this. And in this country—Well, there’s only one place that’s built to hold a dragon.” 

The house stands tall in the distance like a giant menacing shadow, cold and still, like the empty shell of a monster, abandoned by time. Even from this distance, from between the trees, Jimin can make out the windows, gaping like deep black holes in the facade, and his gaze gets stuck on the one he knows belonged to his bedroom. 

The sight makes him a bit nauseous, the night hanging around him weighing heavily on his chest, the darkness building the sense of unease that’s already gnawing at his nerves. He flexes his cold and stiff fingers in the soil below him, fighting the urge to crack his neck. His knees hurt from kneeling for so long, there is a strain in his shoulders and cold sweat clinging to his skin, his shirt sticking to him under his jacket. 

He’s been waiting and observing the area for almost two hours, waiting in the darkness of the night for any movement or signs of life, a sign that there really are people inside. 

So far, he’s got nothing. 

The premises lie dead and quiet, except for the distant howl of wind, rustling through the leaves above him. 

Jimin wonders if his father’s body is still inside there. 

Immediately, his throat constricts at the thought, his stomach churning, and he pushes it far away.

Nothing indicates that someone is living here or using the area as a hideout. There is no sign of any form of human presence whatsoever. But the house is big and this is only the North side. He will have to check out the other side too. 

He runs his tongue over his teeth behind his upper lip, his mouth dry. He could use a drink of water but he doesn’t dare to move, tries keeping even his breathing shallow. Maybe Yoongi was wrong, maybe this is not the place where those people keep Jungkook. But if it is— if there are people inside, Jimin has to be careful not to be detected. He needs to stay hidden under any circumstances. The moment he’s seen, it’s over. 

The fact that, so far, not a single person seems to be around is more frustrating than soothing. If this leads nowhere, he has literally nothing to go off of. 

He tears his gaze away from the window of his former bedroom. Letting it wander over the premises. 

He decided to approach the area from the North first, where he knew the woods were thicker, where he could observe everything from the shadows of the trees, right behind the tall barbed wire fence separating the forest from the backyard. Jimin can’t see much in the darkness but it doesn’t seem like the garden has been cared for in the past year. No signs that anyone has been around at any point in time since they left. 

Some fallen leaves rustle under his knees when he adjusts the tiniest bit. 

The gun that he took from Yoongi’s safe and that he has stored in the pocket of his jacket is pressing heavily against his side. He has no idea how to shoot it, only practiced with an empty magazine in his motel room earlier today, but having a weapon on him makes him feel a little bit more at ease.

About a week. That’s all the time he gave himself to prepare before starting his journey up here, which took him only a little over three days by car, with only a couple of breaks. A lot shorter than he would’ve thought, considering that, back then, it took them months to get from here to where they live now. Back then they took detours of course, trying to figure out where to go, what to do— But still. It’s shocking that this house – his past – was merely a three-day car journey away this whole time.

Somehow, the past week flew by in a blink while also feeling excruciatingly long. And now that he’s actually here, everything feels weirdly surreal. He’s dressed in all black, equipped with a weapon and a bolt cutter – to cut open the fence if everything goes according to plan. 

He left his phone at home. First of all, because his father used to keep track of all devices on the property and the surrounding area. If those systems are still up, they could see him come. Second of all, because he didn’t want Namjoon and Yoongi to be able to contact him.

Guilt rises like bile in his throat when he thinks back to the night he sneaked out of the house, leaving only a written note behind that said nothing but Don’t worry, I’ll come back. Don’t follow me. I love you. 

They never ended up telling him about what Yoongi found out or about the antidote. And for that, Jimin is deeply angry at them. Yet, he feels bad. He can only imagine how worried sick they are. By now they must’ve long figured out what’s going on. They must’ve figured out that he did what they were so afraid he would do if they told him about their findings. 

But he needs to do it. And he needs to do it alone. He knows it’s a terribly reckless endeavor and nothing he wants his best friends involved in. If this goes wrong, he will be the only one dying. He would never forgive himself if something happened to them.

He shifts on his knees once more. There is a slight restlessness burning underneath his skin and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore it. 

His addiction has gotten a bit out of control ever since his blood got hit with that overdose. Right now his body is craving the poison even though the last time he drank it was only around noon, just about 12 hours ago. It’s worrying that he’s already craving it again. 

Aside from his poison, the gun, some tools as well as some spare clothes, he didn’t bring anything on his journey. Too many uncertainties and unpredictabilities made it impossible to plan. 

What he did bring though – probably the most important thing – is pressing against his thigh in the pocket of his black cargos. 

A syringe, filled with a golden shimmering liquid, that he stole from Namjoon’s bag. 

It’s vital to the success of his plan, which is so full of gaps and ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’, that it makes Jimin nauseous just thinking about how little his chances at success are. The only thing that’s for certain is, while getting inside that house is the hard part, getting out of it again is the hardest part. And a dragon—a dragon in its full form would be able to break out anywhere. Nothing could hold it. It’s a huge advantage and his only hope. 

Somehow, he has to get the syringe with the antidote to Jungkook. He assumes they are holding him in the same cell from back then. Somehow he has to get in there and inject him with it, or at least get the antidote in there so that Jungkook can inject it himself. Jimin not being too close would probably be better, since Jungkook could end up killing him. Accidentally even, in such a confined space. 

The barrel of the syringe he chose is mid-sized while the needle is shockingly thick, protected by a black plastic cover. So thick that it could be used as a weapon in itself if need be. 

Right now, cowering in the woods, he really hopes he won’t need it as a weapon. He hopes he won’t have to use any weapons at all. He has no idea how to fight, let alone how to kill a person. The thought alone makes him kind of sick. The thought of killing. But also the thought of being in such a scary situation that requires killing. 

He trails his freezing fingers over the small bulge at his thigh, where the syringe is resting under the fabric. 

He really needs to get moving and scout the front of the house, he’s been here in this spot for hours, but somehow, he’s stalling for time. He’s exhausted, he’s freezing and, most of all, he’s scared. What the hell is he even doing? He’s not made for stuff like this.  

Maybe he should go back to his motel room, warm up, take his poison, compose himself, and come back tomorrow night—

His legs are tired too, the strain in his shoulders creeping up his neck and settling in his jaw, the itchy feeling under his clammy skin slowly getting worse and worse. He sighs under his breath, feeling defeated, and is just about to get to his feet when he hears the unmistakable crunch of leaves underfoot. 

His heart leaps into his throat, and he cowers down again, his body tensing like a coiled spring. He strains his ears to listen.

Footsteps. Definitely footsteps, and they're coming closer. 

Panic courses through his veins as he contemplates his options. Should he stay hidden and hope whoever is approaching doesn't see him, or should he bolt and risk being caught? His clammy fingers curl in the soil, blood rushing in his ears, and he tries to make himself even smaller, his heart pounding, his mind racing. 

The footsteps draw nearer, and now he can now make out hushed voices too.

Then the muffled sound of his name being spoken. 

His pulse quickens. It can't be—

He peeks through the branches of the bush he’s hiding behind, watching two dark figures approaching and slowly, his fear gives way to a flood of relief. He recognizes the familiar silhouette of Yoongi and the taller figure of Namjoon. They're moving slowly, apparently scanning the area in the dark, searching for him. Something hard forms in his throat. They’re such idiots. How did they even know to search exactly here?

As they get closer, he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles out from his hiding spot, his legs feeling like jelly. The two stare at him, eyes wide in shock, but then relief washes over their faces. 

“Jimin,” Namjoon whispers and they both rush toward him. Jimin can't help it—he collapses into their arms, his fear and exhaustion catching up to him all at once. Tears well up in his eyes as he clings to them.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, his voice shaky. “I’m so sorry—” 

"We've been looking everywhere for you, you idiot," Yoongi mutters, his tone a mix of frustration and relief.

"I—I thought I could do it," Jimin admits weakly. “Joonie, you were right. I think—I fell in love with him. Somehow it just happened and now I don’t know what to do— I—I really need to get him out of there, I-”

“Not like this,” Namjoon whispers, pulling back to cup his cheeks with his palm. “Not this unprepared, not alone. We need a plan, we need to be strategic, we—God, you’re ice cold-”

“Let’s head back first,” Yoongi says. 

“Okay—” Just as Jimin’s shoulders begin to relax, the tension slowly easing, a distant rumble of an approaching engine shatters the silence. 

His heart surges with fear once more.

Shit. 

“Down,” Yoongi hisses and they all scramble to lower themselves on their stomachs behind the thicket, one of the twigs lashing Jimin’s face. He presses his cheek against the damp soil, his pulse going wild, the pounding loud in his ears. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Through the branches he sees a truck rumbling into view, almost as black as the night, its headlights slicing through the darkness, casting long moving shadows. 

He’s seen that truck before. Or one similar to it. On the day his father died. 

The vehicle comes to a halt, the lights turning off as the sound of the engine dies down, bathing the area in darkness again. Then the doors open and two figures hop out, nothing but shadows in the night. 

There’s the crackle of a radio. 

“Anything?” 

“Give us a break, man,” a deep voice grunts. “We just arrived.” 

“Make it snappy.” 

“There’s nobody here anyway, can’t believe they woke us up for that,” a second voice groans. 

A heartbeat later two beams of flashlights sweep across the area and Jimin tries to press himself even closer to the ground, his fingers digging into the dirt, his breathing shallow. He feels positively sick, tension pulling at each nerve in his body, when the men start searching the area with hushed words and the rustle of leaves beneath their feet. He’s frozen in place, doesn’t dare to even breathe when the flashlights sweep over the bushes concealing them. He can hear his heart’s frantic rhythm in his ears, every beat resonating in his throat. The beam of light lingers and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to be invisible, to melt into one with the night. 

Seconds stretch into an eternity, Jimin’s skin tingling with the rush of fear, panic clawing at his throat. 

And then the men’s attention seems to shift, the lights wandering further as they move farther and farther away, into the opposite direction, with their backs to their hiding spot.

Jimin’s cramped muscles loosen up in reluctant relief and he dares to turn his head, exchanging glances with Namjoon and Yoongi. 

The decision is made without words: They have to retreat deeper into the woods before the men come back into their direction. They might not get this lucky a second time. 

Slowly they get to their feet, still crouching down when they start moving quietly and carefully. Jimin walks behind Namjoon and Yoongi, setting one foot in front of the other, fighting the urge to break into a sprint, each step delicate and calculated. His face is cold and numb with fear, the soft noises of the fallen leaves under their feet betraying them with each step, thankfully being overshadowed by the wind rustling through the forest, coming from everywhere and nowhere. 

They slip further and further into the shadows, until it’s hard for Jimin to see. He can barely make out the shapes of the others in front of him and follows the soft noises of their feet blindly, step by step by step—

When his foot gets caught on a branch and he loses his balance, Jimin manages to stifle the yelp in his throat before it can even begin to form, but he can’t stop the twig from snapping loudly when he plants his other foot down harshly to keep his balance. 

A wave of terror washes over him as the flashlights are swung into his direction, the brightness blinding him when it lands directly on his face. 

For a brief moment the world seems frozen in time. 

To his right, from the corner of his eye, in the peripheral of the flashlights’ glow, he can see Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s rigid forms, can see that they are a lot further into the woods than he would’ve thought. 

They probably haven’t been seen yet. 

It takes only a heartbeat for Jimin to make his decision. 

When he turns around, for a split second, he gets a brief look at their shocked faces, at Namjoon opening his lips, at Yoongi grabbing him and clamping a hand over his mouth before pulling him further into the darkness. 

Then he breaks into a run, sprinting away from them. 

Curses sound behind him, shouting, then footsteps following him.

Fueled by adrenaline and the sole determination to lure those people away from his friends, Jimin runs faster through the darkness, his breathing echoing around him, the uneven ground making him slip, the flashes of light behind him coming closer and closer, the shouting getting louder too. 

He stumbles over gnarled roots, knees crashing into the ground, his adrenaline surging, urging him to his feet again. He gets just two more steps in before a deafening sound rings through the air, a sharp crack, followed by a searing flash of hot pain grazing his left thigh. 

It’s not necessarily the pain, but the shock that makes him stumble and fall once more, a cry tearing from his lips. 

He just about manages to heave himself up on his palms, before the rustling footsteps behind him close in, coming to a halt, and then the cold muzzle of a gun presses into his nape harshly. 

“Down!” Someone bellows and Jimin flops onto his stomach. “Hands up!” 

His hands are secured behind his back by a painful grip around his wrists, a moment later he’s yanked to his feet. 

He’s met with wide eyes. There is a moment of tense silence.

“How—How the fuck are you still alive?” 

He doesn’t recognize either of his attackers but he assumes they must’ve been there when they took Jungkook. He doesn’t answer and apparently they don’t expect him to. The muzzle of the gun presses into his cheek. 

“Frisk him.” 

Rough hands slide over his jacket, feeling for any weapons, stilling at his right pocket and pulling out the gun he’s carrying there, throwing it to the ground with a scoff. Then they continue their path down to his legs. 

Shit, the antidote, a voice flashes through Jimin’s head as the hands make their way to his left thigh, where he’s carrying the syringe. 

He yelps in pain, flinching back violently when fingers slide over the wound, right above the pocket. 

“Don’t touch there,” he hisses. 

The guy in front of him snorts. “It’s merely a graze, don’t be a pussy.” 

He gets to his feet though, grimacing when he wipes his bloody fingers on his pants. Then he sweeps his flashlight across the area. 

“You alone?” 

The gun in his face makes it a bit difficult to speak.

“I don’t know. How about you guys go and check?” He smiles sweetly, albeit his thundering heart. “I promise I’ll wait here for you.”

The gun presses harder into his cheeks, so hard, he can feel it pushing against his teeth. 

“You think you’re funny, huh?” 

“Do you see me laughing?” 

He yelps when his head is yanked back by his hair. “You little-”

“Enough,” the guy in front of him says. “Let’s get him to the car.” After one final look at their surroundings, he turns around and with a shove in his back Jimin is forced to follow. “Can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you. How the hell did you survive that?” 

The look on Doyoon’s face indeed is priceless. 

Jimin doesn’t even have time to really take in the insides of his childhood home, to feel any feelings at the sight of the familiar walls, the familiar flooring, the familiar furniture— He never found himself to have a bond to any of these things anyway and now that he’s roughly pushed through the dimly lit hallways, pain pulsing through the graze wound on his thigh, blood seeping into the fabric of his pants, everything feels weirdly foreign. Maybe because to him it always kind of was. 

Only when he recognizes the door to his father’s office in front of him, his stomach drops, queasiness washing through his chest. He has no time to think about it though, the door is yanked open right after one of his captors slammed his fist against it twice, revealing a face he doesn’t recognize. 

“He doesn’t want to be disturbed.” 

The two men beside Jimin chuckle. 

“Oh, I think he does,” one of them says.  

At the words the guy in front of him frowns and only now his gaze wanders to Jimin, pausing on his face, his frown deepening, before his eyes grow comically wide. He pulls the door open wider and looks over his shoulder.

“Boss, I think you wanna see this.” 

“What?!” Doyoon’s irritated voice rings out. 

Jimin stumbles when he’s pushed into the room, his wounded leg momentarily giving out under him, and the guy holding him by his arm curses before pulling him up again. 

His father’s office looks exactly the way it did before, evoking the same uncomfortable feeling. Only the person sitting behind the desk is different. 

In this lighting Jimin can tell that Doyoon hasn’t just gotten his nose done. Something about his lips is different too, plus his cheekbones seem unnaturally high, his features weirdly disproportional. It seems like addiction to plastic surgery lies in the family after all.

When Doyoon’s eyes lock on Jimin he stares at him blankly for a moment. Then they widen and he lets the folder that he’s holding sink. He blinks, shaking his head as if he tries to shake himself out of a fever dream. It’s an almost comical sight.

“You?!” 

Jimin grimaces. “Hi, Doyoon. Almost didn’t recognize you with that new face.” 

The other’s eyes narrow and he slowly pushes his chair back to get up, not taking his eyes off Jimin as he stalks closer. 

“How did you—” His eyes flicker back and forth between Jimin and the guys who caught him. “He was the one in the woods behind the house?”

“Yep.”

Doyoon’s jaw clenching as he stands up tall, looking down at Jimin. Then a slow grin stretches on his lips.

“What a surprise. I’m guessing you’re here for your dragon friend?” 

Jimin lifts his chin, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart. “Maybe I’m just here for old times’ sake. You know, nostalgia and all.” 

Doyoon chuckles, his eyes traveling up and down Jimin’s body, getting stuck on his bleeding leg. Immediately, Jimin is reminded of the syringe in his pocket, hoping to God that it won’t be discovered. He needs to find Jungkook and inject him with it. That’s probably his best shot at getting out of this. 

Doyoon sighs heavily, bringing his hand up and rubbing a spot above the bridge of his nose.

“Bring him next door and get someone to patch him up, he’s bleeding all over my floor. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

The room he’s brought to was formerly his father’s library. 

Jimin never really spent time here back then. Neither did his father. It was a room of collection more than anything else, rare books and weird looking sculptures – that Jimin is sure must be worth a small fortune – collecting dust on the dark wooden shelves even back then. Now, even the big mahogany table in the corner is coated with a thick layer of dust. Apparently Doyoon doesn’t keep many servants around here. Which isn’t surprising, given the fact that this seems more like a temporary hideout for the group, rather than an actual living space. 

Maybe it’s the pain in his leg, maybe the exhaustion, but the air makes Jimin nauseous. The room is stuffy, smelling of dust and old paper, in need of being aired out.

Someone brings an armchair for him to sit comfortably on, with his wounded leg stretched out on an ottoman. 

Ten seconds. 

That’s all the time Jimin needs to pull the syringe from his blood-soiled pocket and push it under the long sleeve of his shirt, during a brief moment when the woman, who seemed to be a medic, has her back turned to him and the two men, who Doyoon ordered to accompany him, whisper something to each other, averting their eyes at the same moment. 

It’s luck more than anything else. But now the syringe is safely under his sleeve and he tries to hold it there awkwardly while pulling off his pants, revealing his leg, covered in blood. 

Even though it hurts like a motherfucker, he can tell it’s not too bad, and – once he’s patched up and cleaned – he even gets handed a fresh pair of joggers. While pulling them on, carefully, so the syringe won’t slip from his sleeve, Doyoon enters the library. 

As Jimin suspected, he doesn't seem to spend much time here, it takes him a comically long time to find the right switch to dim the lights. Once his surroundings are a bit darker, the strain in Jimin’s neck eases a bit. The brightness was starting to hurt his eyes, causing a dull headache to form in his temple. 

“Leave us,” Doyoon says and the other people in the room immediately shuffle out the door on quick feet. Once it has fallen shut, Doyoon takes one of the chairs from the corner and drags it across the carpet, placing it right in front of Jimin’s armchair before sinking down on it heavily. 

Too close.

Jimin scoots back on the seat cushion and puts his hands in his lap carefully, the hard shape of the syringe pressing against his skin.  

“Painkiller?” Doyoon asks, holding out an orange pill bottle. 

Jimin shakes his head. The throbbing pain in his leg might be more than uncomfortable but no way in hell is he going to take anything they give him here. 

Doyoon only smiles, letting the bottle slide back into his suit jacket. 

“So, Jimin, tell me—,” he drawls, crossing his arms. “How is it that you have found an antidote against an incurable poison?” 

Jimin licks his dry lips. He could really use some water, but he’s not gonna ask for that either. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Doyoon’s eyes sparkle in amusement and this close Jimin can see the faint scars on his face where Jungkook’s claws sliced him open back then, on the day they came to visit. A sick satisfaction spreads inside Jimin at the realization that the asshole will carry those marks with him forever. The scars aren’t necessarily bad but he just knows they bother the hell out of Doyoon. 

“Well, you can tell me all about it later.” The other flicks a speck of dust from his suit. “Right now, I’m actually more interested in why exactly you’re here.” He looks at Jimin with an amused smile. “And don’t give me that ‘For old times’ sake’ bullshit again.”

Jimin straightens his shoulders. There’s clearly no point in denying it, it’s pretty obvious.

“You already know why.”

“Yeah—” The other leans back and crosses his arms. “I’m wondering though, were you really under the impression you could break him out of here? All by yourself?” 

Jimin wills the muscles in his face to stay relaxed. Under no circumstances can he let them know that he, in fact, isn’t alone. Namjoon and Yoongi are still out there. And maybe they can do something to help him. He just hopes they won’t get themselves into trouble. 

“I had to try.” 

Doyoon’s brows wander up to his hairline. “Why?” He sits up tall and chuckles. “Is he important to you, Jimin?” He tuts. “Do you have a soft spot for him?” 

Jimin grinds his teeth. He’d rather Doyoon doesn’t know how much of a weak spot Jungkook really is to him.

“You’re asking quite a lot of questions,” he says, swallowing the nervous rasp in his throat. “I have questions too.” 

“You’re in no position to ask them.” 

Jimin sits up taller, ignoring the pain in his leg. “What do you want with him?”

Doyoon chuckles loudly. “You don’t listen very well.” 

“Where is he? What are you doing to him?”

Is he okay? 

The other sighs. “Okay, how about this: I answer one of your questions if you answer one of mine. Actually—” He seems to contemplate something briefly, before uncrossing his arms to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I could actually use your help with something.” 

“Which is?” 

“How did your daddy find that dragon? Where did he usually get his leads from?” 

Jimin frowns. “I don’t know.” 

That was never something he concerned himself with, something he had long stopped being curious about. More important was helping the captured creatures to the best of his ability. 

Doyoon’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching.

“You have to know something.” 

“I really don’t.” Jimin cocks his head. “What is this about? You wanna follow in my father’s footsteps or what?” 

Doyoon chuckles humorlessly. “Kind of. I'll be smarter about it though.”

“Ah,” Jimin lifts his chin with a fake smile. “But it’s not very smart to kill the only person in the world who has all the information you need, is it?”

The other’s jaw tenses, before his muscles relax again and he sighs. 

“Yeah, that might’ve been a little bit of a fuck up on my part.” He leans back on his chair again, bringing his hand to his face and trailing his fingertips over the scar on his jaw. “I was a little—displeased after what that dragon did to my face, and my judgment tends to get a bit clouded when I’m angry.” He lets his hand sink and cocks his head to the side, looking Jimin up and down. “I wanted both of you dead, actually. Your father and you.” A small innocent smile stretches his lips, sending a cold shiver down Jimin’s back. “Too bad you weren’t home at the time.” 

Jimin tries to relax his shoulders, fights the urge to shrink back. 

“Well, you got a second chance, didn’t you?” 

Doyoon hums in agreement. “And still you’re not dead.” 

“Lucky for you, because now you seem to need my help,” Jimin snorts. 

“So, can you help me?” 

“Nope.” Before Doyoon can retort something, he continues. “So your father was behind all that?” 

Doyoon scoffs, crossing his legs, his shoe shining in the dim light as it whips up and down. 

“My father was a fucking fool.” He chuckles. “Just like yours—” Jimin won’t argue with that. 

“Was? Your father is dead?” 

“Unfortunately so,” the other sighs, not sounding unfortunate at all. 

“You killed him, didn’t you?” 

The other grins. “Just like I killed yours.” Then he sighs deeply. “You see, we had a bit of a disagreement. He was weak. Weak and simple and way too easily pleased. He was satisfied with the beasts we managed to get that day, thought that the money we made from selling them was us making it.” He scoffs. “And he was scared. To try again for that dragon after what it did to our people.” His eyes narrow as they land on Jimin. “But I’m not scared and you know what? I don’t believe you. You claim you don’t know anything—” He folds his hands together on top of his knee. “If you think really hard with that pretty head of yours, I’m sure you can remember something.” 

Jimin grinds his teeth together. “I was no confidant to my father. I was merely a pawn in his little games. Not even an important one at that, my role was— well, dispensable.”

Doyoon cocks an eyebrow. “And what would that role be?” 

Jimin shrugs. “Fucking his business partners.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, the memories making his skin crawl. “Like I was supposed to fuck you.” 

The other chuckles. “Are you offering?”

“Certainly not.” 

Doyoon hums. “You know, Jimin, I’m usually a very patient man. But— recent events have made it really really hard for me to stay calm. So this is how it’s gonna go.” His foot that has been whipping up and down stops. “You will tell me where I can find more of those dragons.” He smiles sweetly. “And I will let you live.” 

Jimin swallows thickly. “That doesn’t sound like a good deal.” 

“That’s because it’s not a deal,” he laughs. “Don’t let the fact that you’re not gagged and bound confuse you into thinking that you’re no prisoner here.” 

“I’m aware that I am.” 

“Well, then you should also know that we have methods to make people talk.” He grins. “It would be a pity to break you too much, maybe I do want to use you for something more interesting at some later point. But a little torture here and there will surely make you talk, don’t you think?” He uncrosses his legs, his grin widening when Jimin jumps in his chair at the sudden movement. 

“I have nothing to tell you,” Jimin says, shaking his head. “I swear, I don’t know anything.” 

“Then tell me who does.” 

“I don’t– I don’t know— I really can’t help you with that.”

Doyoon sighs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve been hearing these types of words so often the past couple of days, it’s getting frustrating. ‘I don’t know’, ‘I can’t help you’— It’s almost as if you and that dragon agreed on that in advance.” 

Jimin stiffens, his throat going dry. 

“What could he possibly tell you? He was a victim in all of that!”  

Doyoon’s eyebrows shoot up. “A victim?” Once more his fingers trail over his scars. “I’d disagree with that. But as for your question: A dragon is worth a lot of money. More than any other creature.” He clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately, the only one we have right now is untamable, merely kept in check with sedatives. I understand though, that he’s one of the strongest out there.” He cracks another smile, way too sweet for the circumstances. “Others of his kind might be easier to tame.”

Jimin’s heart drops when he slowly starts to understand.

“We are merely asking him for some pointers.” Doyoon shrugs. “But just like you, he’s playing dumb.” 

“You want him to— to lead you to his tribe?” Jimin whispers. 

“Yes.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “He’s not playing dumb. The suppressants made him forget. He really doesn’t know where they are.”

Doyoon scoffs. “Oh, please, I don’t believe a word.” 

“But it’s true! Why would he still be here otherwise?!”

The other looks amused. “Well, I’m guessing because he has his fair share of entertainment here, considering I found you both naked in your bed.” 

Jimin’s jaw clenches, his cheeks heating up, anger making his blood boil.

“Are you torturing him too?” He hisses. “For an answer he can’t possibly give you?” 

“Yes. And it’s hard work, let me tell you,” Doyoon sighs deeply. “He heals way too fast for my liking.”

That doesn’t mean he’s not in pain, Jimin wants to say, but he bites his lips. Not only to keep his mouth shut but also to keep the tears from springing to his eyes. He really has to think of something to get Jungkook out of here. 

“Well,” Doyoon gets to his feet, checking the golden watch on his wrist. “I have a meeting to attend.” When he looks down at Jimin the expression in his eyes is hard. “Think about what I said. Once I’m back and you still refuse to give me answers, you’ll no longer be sitting here all comfy.” 

Jimin steals a glance at the guard that’s positioned in front of the door, staring at him from across the room, the sight of his rifle making him shift uncomfortably in his chair. On top of the weapon, the guy is also ridiculously huge, his shoulders almost as wide as the door frame. He’s positively blocking Jimin’s way out, should he decide to make a run for it. 

Jimin’s lower back and shoulders still hurt from crouching down in the woods earlier tonight and the uncomfortable feeling keeps making him think about Namjoon and Yoongi. Maybe they can get him out of here somehow? He has no idea how, though. He just hopes they’re safe. So far it doesn’t seem like Doyoon even knows of their existence and Jimin wants to keep it that way. It’s his fault after all, that they came here for him. 

He curls his fingers around the syringe inside his sleeve. 

The antidote really seems to be his only option. 

He has to make it to the basement – where he’s sure they are holding Jungkook – and somehow get this syringe to him. 

That’s all he can think of. He really can’t come up with a better plan.

Maybe because it’s getting really hard to think in general. 

Jimin is on edge. He’s scared, there’s no denying that, his heart not having calmed down in the slightest ever since he got here. But on top of that, he’s also incredibly uncomfortable. 

He wiggles his shoulder, trying to release some of the tension there, shifting in his seat. 

Doyoon has been gone for hours and by now, there is a horrible headache pounding in Jimin’s head. His mouth and throat are completely dried out, he’s tired, exhausted and the throbbing pain in his thigh is spreading all the way to his toes, making the muscles in his leg cramp. On top of that, it’s uncomfortably cold in the room, his fingers freezing. 

Once more, he curls the numb digits around the syringe. 

It can’t stay there in his sleeve. He has to put it somewhere less noticeable, where he doesn’t have to be this careful. 

He throws the guard another glance.

With that guy standing there and observing him, hiding it away somewhere else is literally impossible. Their eyes meet and Jimin jumps at the sudden gruff voice.

“Got something to say?” 

He quickly shakes his head and the guard huffs, widening his stance in front of the door. 

Jimin licks his lips but somehow his tongue is way too dry to wet them.

“Actually—” He clears his throat. “I need to use the restroom.” 

It’s worth a shot.

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yeah.” 

The guy rolls his eyes and lifts his hand to knock at the door behind him. Only a second later it’s being opened from the other side, only a gap. 

“The princess has to pee.” 

A chuckle. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Jimin is surprised when he’s actually led to the bathroom down the hallway not even five minutes later, the guard from before hard on his heels, stepping into the bathroom with him.

“Seriously?” Jimin asks once the door has fallen shut. His head is spinning a little bit, his leg throbbing, his skin clammy. 

“Hurry up!” 

Jimin huffs, limping to the toilet, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “Can you at least turn around?” 

The other doesn’t budge. 

“Unbelievable,” Jimin mutters, but gets to it. 

The entire time, his heart is pounding wildly in his throat and when he’s done, he pulls his pants up overly slowly, pretending to be careful with his wound. Too obvious, he scolds himself when he lets the syringe slip from his sleeve until he’s holding it in his hand. He needs to be quick.

Come one. His fingers are trembling when he fastens the strings, pushing the syringe under his waistband at the same time, immediately draping his shirt over it. 

That’s it. 

He swallows nervously, before turning around. The guy is still looking at him but doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. 

Slowly, Jimin’s muscles relax. His hands, however, are still trembling when he steps up to the sink, trying to put as little weight as possible on his leg when he washes his hands before leaning forward and bringing his mouth to the faucet. The form of the syringe digs into his stomach under his waistband while he drinks the cold water greedily, more and more and more, but no matter how much of it he swallows down, the thirst doesn’t go away. 

When he straightens up again and turns the faucet off, he ignores the guard’s looks. 

“Done,” he says. 

The world is spinning around him and he keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the ground when he’s led back to the library, concentrating to set one foot in front of the other, trying not to trip. 

Once he slumps back in his chair, he closes his eyes. By now, the sun is already about to rise, bathing the library in a cool type of morning light that is bothering Jimin even with his eyes closed. He focuses on his breathing until the spinning finally stops. 

“You don’t look too good.” 

He startles at Doyoon’s voice and when he opens his eyes he finds him leaning with his hip against the mahogany table, his arms crossed, looking Jimin up and down with an expression that’s more amused than concerned. They are alone in the room, the guard is gone. 

“Long night,” Jimin croaks, sitting up taller.

“Tell me about it.” With a sigh, the other uncrosses his arms and pulls off his suit jacket, draping it over the chair, then he unfastens the buttons of his cuffs, rolling his sleeves back. “So, Jimin, I’m sure you’ve thought about what I said. So let’s try this again.” He clasps his hands behind his back and smiles down at Jimin politely. “Where can I find information on the whereabouts of those dragons?” 

Jimin runs his tongue over the back of his upper teeth, his mouth still dry. 

He has thought about it. A lot. He used the hours while Doyoon was gone to come up with a plan and – well – what he came up with is anything but foolproof. But it’s all he got. 

He clears his throat.

“Well— I really don’t know-” Doyoon’s facial features harden at his words. “But,” Jimin makes sure to go on quickly. “I remember seeing some files in one of the archives downstairs that might be of help.” 

Getting to the basement is his top priority right now. Getting to Jungkook.

“We already sorted through all the files in all the archives.” Doyoon crosses his arms. “There’s nothing.” 

Jimin expected that. 

“But did you also find the secret compartment?” 

There is a moment of silence. 

“What secret compartment?” 

“There is a protected compartment built into the ground, hidden under one of the flooring tiles inside the archive adjoined to the high security room at the very far back.” Jimin smiles. “I never really concerned myself with the contents of the folders he kept there, so I can’t say for sure but—” He licks his lips. “Yeah.” 

It’s a lie. 

There is a secret compartment. His father had those installed all around the house, not only in the many archives – and Jimin is sure in one of them Doyoon would find all his answers – but it's a lie that Jimin doesn’t know what kind of documents that specific one contains. Jimin knows those files aren’t what Doyoon is looking for. They are merely track records of the suppressants tested on Jungkook that were directly linked to illegal substances, analyzing their success, and including long protocols of behavioral studies on Jungkook after each injection. 

Doyoon rolls back his shoulders and lifts his chin, his gaze never leaving Jimin when he makes his way to the door. Only when he turns to open it does he break eye contact.

“Check the archive in the high security room for a secret compartment in the floor.”

He closes the door again, crossing his arms as he leans with his back against the wall next to it, facing Jimin, not saying a single word. Jimin can tell that he’s trying to act intimidating, maybe nonchalant, but the tense excitement is obvious in the way he thrums his fingers against his upper arm.

Only a couple of minutes later there is a knock at the door and Doyoon opens it, revealing one of his men. 

“It’s really there.” 

Doyoon straightens up. “What’s inside?” 

“We couldn’t open it, it’s locked with a fingerprint scanner.”

Doyoon snorts, turning around to Jimin, who can’t keep the smug grin from forming on his lips. 

“Would you look at that. You told the truth.” He drawls. “You wouldn’t happen to also know whose fingerprints we need?” 

Jimin’s grin widens. “Oh, that I do know,” he says, lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers.

The other huffs. “How very convenient for you that it’s in the archive of that room.” 

Jimin swallows his nerves. He expected Doyoon to get suspicious. It’s the room with Jungkook’s cell he’s talking about after all. And Doyoon’s words have just confirmed to Jimin that they are indeed holding him there.

“Well, it’s the most protected room of the house,” Jimin says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Whatever he kept there has to be important, right?” 

Doyoon stares at him for another moment before he addresses the guy in front of the door again. “Get him downstairs. He’s gonna open it for us. And make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.”

Jimin’s body is aching when he’s dragged out of the room and to the elevator by a tight grip around his arm. The sudden swoop of his stomach, when the elevator starts moving, makes his abdomen cramp and his knees buckle and he has to lean against the cool metal wall for balance.

When he’s shoved into the basement’s corridor, he’s sure he’s gonna pass out any second now. 

He almost doesn’t notice the gun pushing between his shoulder blades as he follows behind Doyoon to Jungkook’s room on shaky legs, passing empty cages, his thigh throbbing, the fluorescent light shooting pangs of pain through his head which cause his vision to flicker. The way his mind is immediately bombarded with memories has his heart pound faster, his breathing turning labored. 

Don’t show weakness, he scolds himself, grinding his teeth. Calm down. Breathe in, 1, 2, 3…. Breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… Calm. Down. 

He needs to think.

Another stab of pain in his temple. 

Fucking think. 

The door to the archive is located opposite to Jungkook’s cell. The room is big, the distance from one end to the other not necessarily short.

Once he has opened the compartment he needs to get out of there and all the way to Jungkook’s cell as quickly as possible. He for sure won’t have much time. Doyoon has two guards with him, one of them holding Jimin at gunpoint right now. They won’t be distracted for more than a couple of seconds once he has opened the compartment. 

His heart fluttering in his throat makes him feel terribly sick, his hands cold and clammy, and he doesn’t dare to look up when they make their way to the high security door, the ache in his thigh getting worse and worse with each step, the syringe pressing into a spot next to his hip bone, held by his waistband. 

The familiar sound of the handprint scanner, followed by the low buzz as the heavy door opens, sends chills down his spine. 

“Don’t mind us, everyone, just passing through!” Doyoon shouts to nobody in particular as they step into the brightly lit room.

Immediately, Jimin’s eyes snap to Jungkook’s cell. 

For a heartbeat, his brain doesn’t even recognize him.

Once it does, terror washes over him, his steps faltering, the knee of his wounded leg giving out under his weight and he would’ve tripped and fallen, if not for the guard’s hand around his upper arm, clutching him tightly. 

Jungkook is kneeling on the ground behind the thick glass wall, his arms stretched above him in the air where he’s suspended from the ceiling by heavy chains that cut cruelly into his wrists. 

He’s naked, his entire front marred with purple bruises and deep angry wounds, gashes that ooze streams of crimson liquid, sullying the ground around his knees. His body is slumped, his head hanging forward limply, the hair falling over his face stuck together, crusty with sweat and blood. 

He’s not moving. 

Jimin’s throat goes all tight. So tight, it’s impossible to breathe.

“Jungkook,” he gasps, not taking his eyes off the other’s broken form. “Jungkook!” His voice cracks and he stumbles forward. 

“Stay back,” Doyoon hisses, extending his arm to cut off his way, while the guard behind him tightens his grip around his arm, the pressure of the gun between his shoulder blades increasing.

The person standing beside Jungkook – who Jimin only notices now – turns around at the commotion, looking at them through the thick glass with a confused expression. It’s another one of Doyoon’s huge men, his black shirt stuck to his body with sweat, a leather glove protecting one of his hands, in which he holds a thick metal chain, similar to the ones binding Jungkook’s wrists. It’s glistening in the bright light, covered in the same crimson red color that’s covering Jungkook’s body.

Terror mingles with disbelief, before a deep primal surge of anger ignites in Jimin’s chest. 

“What are you doing to him?!” He yells, twisting his arm free, rushing straight forward, but the sudden grip of fingers tangling in his hair, yanking him back, has him yelp in pain. He reaches up in an attempt to push Doyoon’s hand off.

“I said stay the fuck back!” The other growls before dragging him towards the archive on the other side of the room, causing Jimin to stumble over his own feet as he tries to follow, still clawing at the hand in his hair, digging his fingernails into skin, scratching at it.

Only when a faint noise rings through the room, quiet, muffled, he stops.

A small gasp.

Jimin’s eyes widen as he watches Jungkook’s body twitch, the chains above his head clanking. 

The sight sends a brief sense of relief through him but then the guy next to Jungkook turns back around, widening his stance, lifting his arm with the chain in his hand. 

“No! Stop!” 

The chain rattles through the air and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw clenching with a sob at the horrifying sound of impact against naked flesh. He feels sick.

“Should’ve just cut your fucking hand off,” Doyoon mumbles, before yanking him into the small adjoining room. “Get in there.” 

Jimin doesn't have much time to take in the surroundings but he does catch the fact that the archive, while being neatly organized back then, is a complete mess now. Books and folders ripped from the shelves, littering the floor, making him trip as he’s shoved in front of the hole in the ground where the tiles have been removed, coming face to face with a compartment made entirely of steel, the red light of the fingerprint scanner flickering. 

All that goes through his mind while he’s grabbed by his wrist is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook, the cruel sound of the chains still audible even in here. 

His hand is forced forward, his thumb being pressed against the scanner, while a gun presses into his nape. 

He needs to do something. He needs to stop them. 

Adrenaline surges through his veins and for one split second everything is crystal clear, his brain recalling what he saw outside. 

Since someone was inside the cell, the door to the passageway was wide open, the bars lowered. 

Oxygen floods Jimin’s lungs when he takes a deep breath.

If he’s quick—

A short beeping sound indicates that the scanner has caught, there is a click, the compartment door jerking slightly as the lock opens.

Doyoon shoves him to the side and Jimin lands on his shoulder with a grunt. 

From the corner of his eyes, he sees the gun pointing at him. 

His brain only catches up with his body when he has already jumped to his feet, surging forward and throwing himself against the guard, ramming his head into his stomach, his fingers curling around his thick wrist, twisting it. A yelp in pain is all he hears before the gun clatters to the ground, he sees Doyoon’s hand reaching for it but Jimin is quicker, he stumbles forward and snatches it from the floor, his fingers sweaty around the handgrip. 

He doesn’t even try to recall what he read up about shooting.

A scream rips from his throat when he just fires away. 

The shots echoing loudly in the small room hurt in his ears, the recoil in his arm making him stumble back, but he keeps pulling the trigger. It smells of metal and sulfur, the smoke scratching in Jimin’s throat, the banging sounds mixing with screaming and shouting. He whirls around and flees the room, his heart racing, his eyes clouded by tears. 

Someone charges at him from the right as he covers the distance to Jungkook’s cell and he fires another shot blindly, losing his footing while doing so, almost dropping the gun, but his grip tightens just in time and he straightens up, keeps running. More shots ring through the room, this time not by him, and he ducks, a bullet whistling past his ear, he stumbles through the open passageway and then into the cell. 

“Get away from him,” he hisses, pointing his gun at the guy, who has long dropped the chain and pulled his gun out too, but Jimin is quicker. His first shot hits the other’s shoulder, making him drop his gun with a grunt of pain, the second one his leg. He topples down, his weapon clattering to the ground and Jimin gives it a kick, sending it across the floor. 

Then he drops to his knees in front of Jungkook, who’s unmoving, slumped forward in his chains. 

Jimin doesn't waste any time, his heart racing when he brings his trembling fingers to his waistband where the form of the syringe is pressing unforgivingly into his skin.

Before he can even pull his shirt up, however, people storm into the cell, their shouts echoing around him and he’s disoriented for a moment when he’s pushed to the ground, landing on his back, staring up into the barrels of several shotguns.

He’s dizzy, bringing his palms up in surrender.

Shit.

“Get out of my way,” he hears Doyoon holler and only a second later he appears between his men, his hair messy, blood splatters covering his white shirt and the right side of his face, but from the way he moves it doesn’t seem to be his own blood.

Jimin grinds his teeth at the fact that he apparently didn’t manage to hit him even once. 

“You little shit,” he hisses, yanking the shotgun from one of his men and pointing it right between Jimin’s eyes. “I should blow your head off for this.” 

He’s breathing heavily, a wild look on his face. 

“You really wanna do that?” Jimin pants, his heart racing with adrenaline, his voice shaky. “After I just helped you? The only one with at least some knowledge of what my father was doing here?”

“You tried to fucking shoot me!” Doyoon hollers. 

“Because you were hurting him!” Jimin glances at Jungkook, who’s twitching in his binds but not really moving. 

It’s silent for a moment, Doyoon’s eyes darting back and forth between Jimin on the ground and Jungkook’s slumped over form. After a while he huffs and lowers the gun.

“You know what—” He thrusts the gun into the guy’s hand next to him, before running his twitching fingers through his hair, trying to fix it. “This,” he points between Jimin and Jungkook. “Might be of help eventually.” Then he turns around. “Lock them up! I’ll deal with them later— Let’s go through those files first.” 

The guy who’s still lying on the ground, pressing his hands to his wounds, is picked up by the others before they all make their way out of the cell, the iron bars making a dull metallic sound when they emerge from the ground, locking into their mounts at the top, blocking off the passageway, the glass door on the other side slamming shut too. 

Jimin’s heartbeat is still going wild as he slowly sits up, looking around. 

The cell is completely empty. Nothing left of what they had provided Jungkook with before. It’s just them. Just him and Jungkook and curious eyes of the couple of men who stayed back, watching them from the outside. 

Just a few stayed behind. Doyoon is long gone.

Jimin licks his lips, tasting sweat on them. 

Even though they’re watched, this is fucking perfect. 

He scrambles across the floor until he’s kneeling in front of Jungkook again. 

He reaches out. 

“Jungkook,” he whispers, pushing his hair behind his ears, dirty and matted, strands stuck together by sweat and blood. He puts his palms on his bruised cheeks carefully.

“Jungkook, can you hear me?”

He smells horrible. Of sweat and urine and untreated wounds, blood running from a gash on his forehead. His swollen eyelids flutter. 

“Jungkook, come on—” 

“Jimin—” His voice is nothing but a sore whisper, almost inaudible.  

“Yes, look at me.”

Jungkook’s eyelids flutter again before emerald green meets Jimin’s eyes, making his heart skip a beat in relief. 

“You—here—I thought—” The words are slurred.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“It didn’t—kill you—” 

It takes a moment for Jimin to understand that Jungkook is talking about the poison. 

“It didn’t,” he says, keeping his voice as low as possible, pushing another strand of hair from the other’s face. 

Jungkook looks at him and slowly, something in his eyes clears. After a few seconds they widen slightly.

“Jimin—Why—” His breath is rattling. “What the hell are you doing here—”

“I’m here to get you out,” Jimin whispers. 

The other shakes his head, a grimace of pain crossing his face at the movement. 

“Fuck—Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Jimin chuckles. “Maybe—but trust me, we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“How?” The other’s face is still twisting in discomfort. “Those fucking chains—They won’t budge—”

Jimin lifts his gaze to where the unforgiving metal is cutting into Jungkook’s wrists and lower arms, drawing blood, the skin bruised. Looks like they haven’t gotten him out of this position for quite a while. He grinds his teeth at the overwhelming anger exploding inside him. This is so fucking inhumane. 

He looks at Jungkook again.

“They keep sedating me—” Jungkook groans when he sways on his knees. “I can’t—think—”

“Listen,” Jimin whispers as quietly as possible. “I have something with me that will help.” 

Jungkook frowns in confusion.

“Joon did it,” Jimin says so quietly that he’s almost unable to hear it himself, but he’s sure Jungkook’s sensitive ears have picked it up. “He created an antidote.”

It takes a couple of seconds for Jungkook’s confused expression to turn into surprise, his eyes growing wider, clearer, almost as if he’s sobering up. 

“He– He did it?” He breathes.

Jimin nods, a big smile spreading on his lips. “Yes and I have it with me.” He puts his hand over the spot where the syringe is hidden. “If I inject you now, you’ll be easily able to break out of those,” he looks up at the chains. “Out of here.” 

Jungkook’s entire body jerks, the chains clanking. “No–” His eyes are wide. “Not here, Jimin— Not—Not with you around.” 

Jimin frowns. “What-”

“I don’t know what would happen,” Jungkook whispers, licking his chapped lips. “I might kill you. It’s—I’d definitely kill you—it’s too risky.” 

“But—”

It’s the only way. 

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head before grinding his teeth once more in pain. 

“But maybe you wouldn’t,” Jimin pauses. “Maybe you wouldn’t kill me. Jungkook, it’s your only chance out of here.”

“Listen to me,” Jungkook says, his arms above his head straining. “You don’t want to be trapped with me in here when– when I shift into my full form for the first time in years.” 

Jimin swallows thickly, the high feeling of hope slowly dwindling, the pulsing headache coming back. There is an ache in his lower back too, and in his thigh. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Jungkook whispers, his green eyes darting around the room. “Once someone opens that door, you do it. Okay?” 

He looks at Jimin, who nods. Yeah, he can do that. 

“But only if all doors are open,” Jungkook continues. “The ones out of this cell and the one out of the room, do you understand?” Jimin nods once more. “You inject me with it and then you run, okay? You need to run as fast as you can and as far as you can. You need to get outside as quickly as possible. Don’t let anyone hold you back.”

“Okay,” Jimin whispers. 

“Okay.” Jungkook’s eyes dart over his face. “You don’t look good. Did they hurt you?” 

Jimin blinks, only now noticing how hard his fingers are shaking. 

“Got a bit of a scratch on my leg,” he mumbles, looking down at his thigh. “But that’s it.” 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “A scratch— Can you run?” 

Jimin’s head snaps up to look at him. “Yes.”

“Jimin-”

“Yes, I can.” Something thick forms in Jimin’s throat. He won’t let his weak body get in the way of Jungkook’s freedom. “I have to. I’m going to.” 

The other looks at him for a while, before he finally nods. A nod that Jimin almost misses because, somehow, Jungkook’s face keeps sliding in and out of focus. He blinks, the thrumming pain deep inside his skull making it really hard to keep his eyes open. 

“I think I need to lie down for a bit,” he mutters, sinking to the side, extending his hand to keep himself from collapsing onto the floor. “I’m really tired.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says. “I’ll wake you up if something happens.”

“Jimin?” 

Jimin has heard the voice for a while now, even in his dreamless sleep, but pulling himself into reality seems almost impossible. His heart is racing painfully inside his chest, so hard that he even feels it in his throat.

“Jimin!”

When he finally fully wakes up and opens his eyes, his vision is blurry. There are horrible cramps and soaring pain shooting from his stomach through his entire body, burning like liquid fire in his veins. He groans, his limbs shivering uncontrollably, cold sweat sticking to his forehead, neck and back.

It takes a while for him to realize where he is, to recognize the hard tiles he’s lying on, the bright artificial light burning his eyes from above.

He recognizes Jungkook’s form beside him and tries to sit up, but he’s too dizzy, can only roll to the side and press his cheek against the cold floor. He tries to collect himself, but it seems impossible for his brain to hold on to even a single thought. 

“Jimin, what’s wrong?!” Jungkook’s voice comes from above him and from his peripheral Jimin can see him leaning over him as far as his chains allow, but his words sound muffled to Jimin’s ears, as if he’s far away. 

What’s wrong?

Yeah, what’s wrong? What’s going on? 

Was he poisoned again? 

Poison. 

Jimin curses inwardly when he understands what’s happening.  

For so many years he’s been poisoning his own body every single day.

And now he can’t go without it.

“I—th—ink—” His teeth clatter and his throat hurts, as if his vocal cords have been burned to shreds. “With—drawal—” 

A violent shudder rips through him as a new wave of pain flares up and he curls into himself. “Sh-Shit.” 

The darkness that follows soon after is almost relieving. 

Jimin is weak with dehydration, his mouth tasting of iron and vomit. 

“You fucking bastards! Get him some fucking water!” He hears someone shout. 

Suddenly he’s yanked up by his collar. 

“You played us,” someone else hisses. “Those files were worth nothing!” 

Pain flares up in the right side of his face, mixing with the agony pulsing through his entire body. 

“Hey! Stop!” 

He crashes to the floor, his stomach contracting when he’s kicked in the side. He retches, his mouth filling with bile at another kick.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” 

“Stop!”

Another kick.

“Stop! I’ll do it okay?!” 

The kicking stops.

“I’ll— I’ll do it— if you help him. Help him survive.”  

He hears Jungkook take a deep breath, can hear the desperation in his voice. 

“I will lead you to my tribe. I will do it—I’ll lead you there as long as he lives.” 

A manic chuckle. “I knew you were playing us all along.”

No he wasn’t playing you, you fucking idiot, Jimin thinks. But he’s playing you now.  

He tries to open his eyes, tries to see, but all there is are blurry shapes and distorted shadows. 

This will end here, his mind tells him. This will end if you don’t end it yourself. If they get their hands on you to help you, they’ll find the antidote. 

His hands are shaking violently when brings them under his shirt, trembling fingers curling around the solid plastic of the syringe.

He can’t see. Everything hurts.

Get it together. 

He tries to focus, blinks against the haze, fights against the pain crawling under his skin. 

And for a heartbeat his vision clears. 

He can see Jungkook, still bound, and Doyoon. Arguing. 

He yanks the syringe out of his waistband and shakes off the protective cover. 

The moment their heads whip around to look at him, he rolls on his stomach, bringing his arm up.

“What the-”

With all the strength he can muster, he rams the needle into Jungkook’s thigh and pushes his thumb into the plunger, feeling it sink. His sweaty fingers shake violently and he doesn’t even have the strength to pull the syringe back out, just leaves it hanging there, deep inside Jungkook’s flesh. His arm slides back to the floor. 

Doyoon shouts something, people come running and Jungkook just stares down at him from above, his emerald eyes unbelievably big. 

“Kill them,” Jimin whispers. “Go home.” 

Then the world fades away and he slips into bottomless darkness again.

Chapter Text

“It keeps my veins hot. The fire’s found a home in me.”

Jimin’s head is throbbing as he slowly regains consciousness, his mouth dry, his limbs heavy, his surroundings a confusing blur. His body is being jostled around, the constant movement adding to his disorientation. He blinks, trying to clear his vision, but the dizziness makes it nearly impossible to focus. 

Only after some time, the deep rumble of an engine filters in, then the sound of tires on gravel, and it takes another while for Jimin to connect the sounds to the vibrations and movement around him. Slowly, he realizes that he’s inside a car. 

Another bump throws him to the side, his temple connecting with the window with a dull thud. He winces, his stomach churning in protest at the continuous jerky motions, nausea making its way up his throat. He tries to sit up but has trouble doing so, his arms numb where they’re bound behind his back, rough ropes cutting into his wrists and lower arms, his shoulders straining. He must’ve been in this position for quite a while. 

What’s going on? 

There is a relentless pounding in his head and the last thing he remembers is going through the most agonizing pain and-

Jungkook.

Jimin’s eyes fly open, his vision clearing just enough for him to make out a forest landscape outside the windows. 

With great difficulty, swallowing a groan, he lifts his head and looks around. 

He seems to be in the backseat of a van, cool muted morning light casting a pale silvery glow around the vehicle, which is driving through a dense forest, slowly, large trees towering outside the windows, their trunks disappearing into the thick fog that wraps around them almost eerily, creeping in.

The trail they are on is rough and uneven, the van bouncing and jolting with every pothole and every root in its path. 

Jimin winces when he’s thrown to the side once more at one particularly hard jerk. 

There is the crackle of a walkie-talkie, followed by a tinny voice.

“Not sure how much further we can go on like this, boss. View’s getting worse.”

“As long as you can see something, we keep going.” Doyoon’s hard voice, coming from the front, sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine. 

“He’s awake, boss.” 

Jimin jumps at the second voice right next to him, and when he turns his head, he comes face to face with one of Doyoon’s men – the one who had watched him in the library – staring at him while fiddling with a silver butterfly knife, his meaty fingers snapping it open and close with distinct clicking sounds, the blade shining threateningly. Jimin’s head throbs once more in response. 

“Ah, Jimin,” Doyoon says, looking back at him from the passenger seat with a smug smile, a taunting tilt in his voice when he goes on. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

Jimin swallows hard, trying to fight the nausea. 

“Where is Jungkook?” He slurs, his tongue heavy, his vocal cords feeling like they were burned to shreds. 

Doyoon arches an eyebrow. 

“Look behind you.” 

Jimin turns around to the best of his ability, looking over his shoulder, his bound arms straining behind his back. 

His stomach drops. 

In the seat diagonally behind him, with his head lolling against the window, is Jungkook. His hands seem to be bound behind his back too, his eyes are closed, and even though he’s been cleaned up since the last time Jimin saw him, there is blood caking under his nose, on his lips and his chin, a stain having formed on the front of the shirt he’s wearing, from the looks of it already dried.. 

What the hell happened?! He jerks around.

“What did you do to him?” He gasps, the pounding in his head getting worse. 

“What did I do?” Doyoon snorts. “Ask yourself. Whatever you injected him almost fucking killed him.” 

Jimin’s heart sinks as he looks at Jungkook’s unconscious form again. 

“What?” he whispers, taking in the dragon’s pale complexion, the sweat on his forehead and the blood on his face that’s clearly stemming from a nosebleed… 

Shit. 

That’s the same effects they’ve seen Jungkook having when they tested the antidote on him and it didn’t work the way it should. 

Panic clutches his throat. 

Why didn’t it work?! It was supposed to work, Namjoon sounded so sure, he-

“What the hell were you trying to do, huh?” He turns to Doyoon, who’s looking him up and down with a calculating expression. “Did you try to kill him?” 

The relentless throbbing in Jimin’s head makes it hard to focus, his body feeling heavy and sluggish, the words forming only slowly.

“Would’ve probably been better than whatever this is,” he mumbles. “Where are you taking us?” 

Doyoon chuckles, turning back around in his seat to look out the windshield where the fog is slowly getting thicker as the van moves along, the red backlights of a vehicle in front of them almost being swallowed up by it. Every now and then they flare up, causing their driver to slow down too. 

“You see,” Doyoon says without looking back at thim. “Luckily for us, he didn’t die from your little stunt and could give us directions to the location of his settlement.” He ducks his head to look up into the sky. “Although it’s unfortunate that he’s passed out again,” he mumbles. “Should’ve used less sedatives—We might need some more help with this fog. I can’t see a fucking thing.” 

Jimin looks over his shoulder at Jungkook’s limp form again. Next to the dragon, in the seat right behind Jimin, sits another one of Doyoon’s men, heavily armed, with a stoic expression. He’s holding a chain in his hand that Jimin only now notices is attached to a thick metal collar around Jungkook’s neck. 

What did Jungkook tell them? This can’t actually be the way to his tribe, since he doesn’t know where they are located. So where exactly are these cars headed right now? What will happen once they find out this is nothing but a mislead? 

“Eyes to the front,” a deep voice next to him warns and Jimin slowly turns around again, not missing the way the guy beside him keeps fiddling with that knife. 

“Boss, sight is down to maybe 20 feet.” 

“Keep driving as long as you can see something, is that so hard to understand?” Doyoon snaps into his radio. “The dragon is still unconscious. We lost almost an entire fucking day because of that little-” He turns around to glare at Jimin. “-mishap. Our customers are waiting. We can’t waste even more time.”

The silence that follows is tense and Jimin’s body sways as the vehicle continues its bumpy journey. He swallows down another flare of nausea and fights the dizziness. He has to focus. 

“Should we try to wake him up?” The guy next to him asks after a while.

“In a minute—” Doyoon mumbles, staring out the window before turning around to Jimin with a scoff. “At least you’ll make for good leverage.” 

Jimin grinds his teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Well, he ratted out his family to save you. Surely he’ll be more cooperative if your life's on the line again.” When Jimin just glares at him, he turns to look back out the window with a chuckle. “But seriously, what’s up with that fog? That’s not normal, is it?” 

Nobody seems to dare to answer and Jimin moves in his seat, turning to get a better view out of the window.

Yeah, that fog creeping in so fast seems weird. By now he can barely make out the dark shadows of the tree trunks in the blurry haze. Something about it makes his skin crawl. 

He wiggles his wrists behind his back, biting the inside of his cheek when the ropes tighten even more, cutting deeper into his sore skin. There’s no getting out of them. What would he even do if he did? Especially with the guy next to him flashing his knife, the guy behind him being heavily armed and Doyoon threatening to hurt him to get Jungkook’s cooperation. 

He wiggles his leg slightly. At least his wounded thigh seems to do a little better. 

A sudden deafening crash in front of them makes him jump, followed by their driver slamming the brakes with a startled curse, bringing them to such a sudden stop that Jimin’s body jerks forward, almost sending him face first into the headrest of Doyoon’s seat.  

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Doyoon swears, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

Jimin’s heart races in his throat as he tries to grasp what’s going on when Doyoon opens the door and hops out the passenger side. 

For a moment it’s eerily silent, Jimin’s muscles in his arms spasming as he leans against the window, unsuccessfully trying to see what’s been entirely swallowed by fog.

“Hey! We could use some help here!” Doyoon’s muffled voice reaches them from outside. 

Jimin hears the guy behind him move with a huff, pushing against the back of Jimin’s seat as he slides the van door open that Jimin is leaning against, almost sending him toppling out of the car. The sudden wave of cool morning air takes his breath away. The mist creeps in, touching his clammy skin and before Jimin can even fully make sense of the open door right in front him, a way to escape right there, a sudden jerk goes through the van.

He registers the thud of bodies colliding behind him, mixing with a grunt of surprise and followed by a strained yelp. Jimin has just enough time to whirl around to see Jungkook pushing the guy out of the open van door. They both tumble out into the fog, crashing to the ground.

Jimin scrambles forward.

“Jung-” 

“You fucking stay here,” the guy next to him hisses, yanking him back by the scruff of his collar, his arm snaking around him.

The cool sensation of the knife pressing to his throat is the reminder Jimin needs. The reminder that this is his fucking chance. A rush of adrenaline courses through him and the moment the guy inhales, probably to shout for his boss, he does the first thing he can think of. With all the strength he can muster he knocks his head back, ramming it into the other’s face, black dots dancing in front of his eyes when pain shoots through the back of his skull, followed by the other’s pained grunt, almost muffled by the pounding in his ears. The knife drops down into his lap, the arm around him loosening and he wiggles out of the other’s hold, his hands behind his back straining when slides along the backseat and out the door, tumbling to the ground.

“Jungkook–” He gasps, trying to push himself up, his vision obscured by the misty veil around him. 

“Hurry, get up,” Jungkook’s voice comes from beside him and then his shadow appears from the fog. He stands there tall, with his hands bound behind his back, sweat clinging to his pale skin, his chest heaving as his emerald eyes take in their surroundings. 

Jimin pushes himself up to his knees and gets to his feet on unsteady legs, his head swimming. Just when he’s found his balance, he jumps at the sound of someone yelling. 

“Boss!”

He stumbles back as a figure emerges from the thick haze and Jungkook just about evades the punch that’s swung at him by the guy Jimin just tried to knock out, before he throws himself against the attacker, slamming him into the side of the van with a grunt. 

“Boss, we got a situation here!” The guy shouts, trying to free himself. To no avail. 

“Turn around,” Jungkook grits out between clenched teeth, looking over his shoulder as he keeps the guy pinned to the car with his bodyweight. Voices shout over each other in the thick fog, coming closer from all sides, Doyoon’s men seeming to realize what’s happening.

“Use my claws. Quick!” 

Jimin understands immediately and turns, stumbling backwards with his heart hammering in his throat until his bound hands collide with Jungkook’s. Their fingers grasp at each other before Jungkook yanks at the ropes binding him. Only a heartbeat later they loosen and slide from Jimin’s wrists to the ground. The noises of people approaching through the fog with trampling footsteps get louder, their yelling and shouting making Jimin dizzy with fear.

“The guy over there—” Jungkook jerks his head at the lump on the ground that Jimin assumes is the guy he pushed out of the car earlier, half obscured by fog. “—has the keys to my chains. Right upper pocket. Get them, I’ll cover you.” 

And with that, in a matter of only one horrifying second, he slams his teeth into the guy’s neck in front of him, right into his artery, and Jimin quickly turns around before he can see anything else, stumbling through the thick fog, his freed arms tingling as the feeling in them comes back, his heart racing as he’s followed by the gurgling sounds of that guy— dying. Most likely. 

“There he is! Sedate him!” 

His legs are quivering and his throat is tight, the sound of the arising fight behind him mixing with the pounding in his ears as he falls to his knees beside the lifeless body on the ground. He’s too scared to check if the guy’s still breathing, his clammy fingers trembling when he goes through his pockets until they make contact with the sharp edges of a key. 

He wrenches it out, jumps to his feet but the sudden noise of a shot piercing through the air has him freeze. Another shot follows and he sinks to the ground in an attempt to make himself smaller, his blood running cold, his fingers clutching the key, the edges cutting into his palm. 

“Don’t fucking shoot the dragon! We still need him!” 

That’s Doyoon’s voice. 

Jimin squints to see through the misty veil, its dampness clinging to his skin. He catches fleeting glimpses of dark figures moving, accompanied by guttural grunts and muffled cries, people shouting at each other, sharp whacks of fists hitting flesh, choked gasps, the crunch of bones breaking accompanied by high-pitched cries, bodies hitting the ground—

He tightens his grip around the key, his own breathing coming in shallow, rapid gasps, his heart thundering in his chest. The air smells of the metallic tang of blood, mixing with the earthy scents of the woods around him. 

He can pick out Jungkook’s voice, even though it’s strained and muffled, and for a fleeting moment, merely a second, a gust of wind sweeps away some of the fog, revealing the scene in front of him.

He can barely make out the details, but he catches bodies in motion, men stumbling, limbs flailing, and a figure standing tall amidst them all, his posture predatory. 

Jungkook, despite his hands being tied behind his back, moves with an almost unnatural grace and precision, throwing himself against his attackers, his lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal his fangs, blood staining his mouth. This is the first time Jimin is witnessing him fight and he’s taken aback by how much of a deadly force he is, even in his human form.

When the fog starts swallowing the scene again, Jimin hurls himself up to his feet, but before he can get even a single step in, someone slams into his side, sending him to the ground, air being pushed out of his lungs when he lands on his back with a heavy weight on top of him. 

A scream gets stuck in his throat and he starts struggling, but it’s only a matter of seconds until his attacker is pushed off of him. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook pants, a grunt leaving his throat when he drives his knee into the guy’s face, making him topple to the side from the force, collapsing on the ground limply, unmoving. 

“Where is he?!” Someone shouts from within the fog. 

Jimin nods breathlessly. “Yeah.” He whispers and heaves himself to his feet. “I have the key. Turn around.” 

It takes him two attempts to finally open the shackles around Jungkook’s wrists before working on the one around his throat, covered in blood. The moment it clatters to the ground, Jungkook grabs him by his arms, claws puncturing his skin. 

“Run,” is all he says and then they are sprinting. 

Jimin can’t see a thing. 

He blindly follows Jungkook’s lead, jumping over one unmoving body after the other, swerving to the side when someone charges at them, people around them shouting at each other, car engines roaring, tires squealing on the muddy ground as some of them apparently take up the chase in their cars. 

At one point, Jungkook bends down mid-run to grab something from the ground. 

“Take this.” He thrusts a familiar knife into Jimin’s hands and Jimin swallows thickly as he snaps it shut, letting the cool metal disappear in his pocket.  

Shots ring through the air, footfalls trample behind them and they run faster. 

“Don’t kill the dragon!” He hears Doyoon shout. “Just wound him enough!”  

“What about the other one?” 

“I don’t give a fuck about the other one.”

Jimin’s lungs are burning from the exertion, his body protesting, a slow darkness creeping in from his peripherals, but he wills it away, wills himself to keep up with Jungkook, racing through the relentless fog blindly. 

Another shot, then the terrifying whistle of a bullet flying right by Jimin’s ear, so close that he can even feel the gust of air, followed by Jungkook suddenly grunting in pain, his upper body jerking forward. He tumbles and sinks to the ground. 

Panic clutches Jimin’s chest. 

“You’re hit,” he gasps. “Shit, Jungkook-” 

“It’s fine,” the other insists with a strain in his voice, heaving himself to his feet again, grabbing Jimin by his arm. “Keep running.” 

Jimin can see the spot where a wet stain of blood spreads on Jungkook’s shirt, in the area of his left shoulder, and he grinds his teeth at the sight, forcing himself to run faster even though he has trouble keeping up. His legs are too weak, his body too heavy, his lungs not expanding enough to let a sufficient amount of air in. He can tell he’s getting slower, slowing Jungkook down too in the process, the sounds of people behind them drawing closer and closer.

They won’t make it like this. 

Frustrated tears burn in the corner of his eyes, his thigh aching terribly. 

He isn’t fast enough. His human eyes can’t see in this fog. His ears can’t make out from which direction exactly their pursuers are closing in. He’s slipping on the uneven ground. He’s totally helpless. He’s a burden.

“You should go ahead—” He gasps, his lungs burning. “I’m— too slow—”

“No,” Jungkook grunts before he bends down and lifts Jimin up into his arms. 

Jimin notices the wince of pain in the other’s face as he hoists him up, Jungkook’s body seeming to protest with every movement. Not only is he wounded but he’s clearly still out of it because of the failed antidote, maybe also because of sedatives, sweat clinging to his forehead, his eyes looking a bit drowsy. 

Jimin’s body bounces in the other’s hold with every step as he’s carried through the misty forest, quicker now, but only a second later the loud crack of another shot rings through the air and Jungkook curses as he stumbles before they both crash to the forest floor in a tangle of limbs, pain shooting through Jimin’s back. When they scramble to get up, he notices another patch of blood forming, this time on Jungkook’s side. 

His throat constricts with something hard. 

“Jungkook–” There is a violent tremor in his voice. “You— I’m slowing you d-”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hisses, his voice strained as he presses his hand to his bleeding side, his jaw clenching with every step. “Are you hit?”

Jimin shakes his head.

“Then keep running.” 

The fog is wrapping around them like a blanket and Jimin is entirely relying on Jungkook guiding him as they keep moving forward, making their way around thick trunks of trees. His body is aching with every step on the uneven ground, the fallen leaves and roots making him slip and slide and stumble, there is a stitch in his side and his head is throbbing. 

The footsteps and shouts behind them are closing in and Jimin can’t help but look over his shoulder, catching glimpses of shadowy figures in pursuit, their shapes distorted by the fog. 

“I see them!” Someone shouts.

He grinds his teeth, forces himself to move faster, pushing on. He has to. Or he’ll die. And Jungkook will be captured again.

He slides his hand into the pocket of his pants, feels the cold metal of the butterfly knife against his fingertips but he doesn’t even get the chance to pull it out. Only a second later, Jungkook grabs him by his wrist, pulling him into a different direction. 

They run and run and run, the form of the knife banging against Jimin’s thigh rhythmically, until the voices behind them get farther and farther away. 

His legs are burning, his lungs aching, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He’s getting light-headed but he keeps running. Runs and runs, his ragged breathing mixing with Jungkook’s who’s been losing so much blood. 

Way too much.

Jimin can tell the dragon is getting weaker.

But maybe— Maybe they can make it. 

The voices behind them are now far in the distance and when Jimin turns to glance over his shoulder he sees nothing. No shadows in the fog, no people chasing them. 

A sense of relief floods him.

They can make it. 

Just a little further and they’ll-

When the fog lifts, it doesn’t do so gradually. From one moment to the other, it's just gone. 

One step, Jimin’s sight is completely obscured, and after another it’s suddenly crystal clear and he’s blinded by the morning sun.

And then he’s falling. 

His stomach plummets, wind rushing in his ears, a yelp of terror leaving his throat when his body suddenly drops. He’s flailing, trying to hold on to something-

Only a heartbeat later a strong grip wraps around his lower arm.

His fall stops with a violent jolt that feels like his shoulder is yanked out of its socket and then he just dangles there, his body swinging like a pendulum. 

“Shit,” he hears Jungkook curse above him. “Pull yourself up!” 

Jimin gasps for air, disoriented, his heart racing, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. When he looks down, his stomach lurches, panic clutching at his throat.

Below him, there’s nothing. Nothing but a deep abyss of air and then, all the way down there, a wide field – no – a sea of fog that curls around green treetops, which stick out of the clouds like spears. 

Jungkook is lying flat on his stomach above him, his face contorted with pain as he holds Jimin with one hand, tightening his grip around his forearm when, for a horrifying second, Jimin slips in his hold. With the other, he’s holding on to the branches of some undergrowth to keep himself from sliding down too. 

“Try to put your feet on something,” he grits out between clenched teeth, the sheen of sweat on his face mixing with the blood that’s covering the lower half of it. 

“I heard them in that direction!” A voice shouts from the distance and Jimin sobs, swinging his legs to the front, searching for purchase with his feet, but the soles of his shoes keep slipping on the smooth rock, the surface of the cliff too sleek. 

“I can’t!” He gasps and looks up again at Jungkook whose jaw is clenching in pain, a strained sound leaving his throat when Jimin slips further in his hold. His claws sink into Jimin’s flesh, piercing his skin as he tightens his grip, trying to pull him up without any success, his body shaking with exertion.  

Jimin can tell he can’t hold him much longer. He’s too weak right now, too wounded. 

With a grunt he tries to put his feet on the wall again, but they keep slipping. 

“I can see them!” 

Shit.

“Let go,” Jimin says, heart thundering in his chest.  

“What?! No!” 

Jungkook’s claws sink deeper, blood running along Jimin’s arm when he tries to pull him up again with trembling hands. It doesn’t work. 

“Boss! They’re over there!” 

Jimin’s stomach churns. 

“Jungkook, run!” 

“No!”

“Let go of me and run!” 

“You’d die!” 

I know, Jimin thinks, looking down again, his stomach churning once more at the sight of the blanket of fog and the treetops peeking out of it. They almost look fake from up here. Tiny, with how far away they are. 

There's no chance to survive this fall. 

But he’d die either way, wouldn’t he?

If it’s from falling or from being caught by them. They don’t need him. They just need Jungkook. And this might be Jungkook’s last chance to escape. 

Suddenly, a weird sense of calm and peace washes over him. 

He wants Jungkook to escape. 

All he wants is for him to be free. 

“Oh, dragonnnn—” He hears Doyoon’s singsong, his voice drawing closer. 

Without a second thought, Jimin slides his hand into his pocket, yanking out the knife. Jungkook’s eyes widen when he snaps it open with a click.

“Jimin, don’t-”

“I’m sorry.”

A hiss of pain leaves Jungkook’s throat when Jimin, with one quick motion, slashes the blade across the back of the the other's hand, immediately drawing blood, the pain and shock forcing Jungkook's grip to loosen. 

Jimin slips out of his hold.

“Run,” he whispers.

And then he’s falling. 

As if time slows, he feels his upper body tipping backwards, the world around him tilting, wind tousling his hair. 

Jungkook gets smaller above him, still hanging over the edge of the canyon, his arm still outstretched, his eyes wide, his lips moving, but Jimin can’t hear what he’s saying, the wind and his steady pulse too loud in his ears. He feels almost weightless, the air grazing his skin like a gentle stream, his mind blank, unhurried, unburdened-

A jolt of horror flashes through him when Jungkook moves and-

Dives after him. 

You idiot, Jimin thinks, a shout getting stuck in his throat. You fucking idiot. 

Jungkook descends faster, due to his heavier form, reaching out for Jimin.

The world blurs when their bodies collide and strong arms wrap around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. 

Idiot, he wants to say but doesn’t have the strength to do so, his fingers clutching Jungkook’s shirt, their bodies spiraling in the air as they continue their fall.

His eyes burn with tears when a hand cradles his head. 

His chest burns with something else.

And then everything burns. 

Scorching heat consumes him. His face, his skin, his throat, the insides of his lungs. The air he’s breathing suddenly tastes like literal fire. 

He chokes on the heat, his vision going completely white with a flash and once it comes back, he finds himself face to face with a golden glow, his hands gliding over the textured surface of countless smooth scales covering a massive body, the heat they’re radiating searing his fingers as he digs them deeper, trying desperately to hold on. 

A deep rumble vibrates all around him and his body is thrown to the side when something heavy slams into his back, his shoulder connecting with the hot surface and then he’s rolling and tumbling until his hands find purchase again. A swoosh of wind, a flapping noise, then another growl followed by a hiss. 

Jimin’s sight blurs from the speed with which they’re rushing through the air, still plummeting, still falling.

But instead of holding on to a human body, he’s now holding on to the back of a—

A dragon. 

An ear-splitting roar fills the air, two giant wings struggling to unfurl properly, the erratic flaps shaking through the massive body below him, making it almost impossible to hold on. 

Jimin’s heart races as they tumble further through the wind, Jungkook clearly struggling to hold them up, the blanket of fog closing in, rushing up to meet them, coming closer and closer until they break through it, crashing into the treetops. 

The world becomes a blur of fog and rustling leaves, branches breaking under Jungkook’s weight, twigs whipping Jimin’s face, lashing against his arms and legs and all he can do is hold on. He squeezes his eyes shut as they tumble through crowns of trees, the forest swallowing them whole, until they finally crash into solid ground. 

Jimin loses his grip at the sudden impact, he’s being flung to the side, bumping into a leathery wing before he slides off the massive body with a yelp, his back colliding with the ground first. Pain pierces through him, taking his breath away, and for a moment he lies there, disoriented and unable to fill his lungs with air.  

When the huge form next to him rears up though, instincts take over. He rolls on his stomach, pushes himself up on his elbows and scrambles across the forest floor, which shakes as if rattled by an earthquake under Jungkook’s moving weight.

The clearing they landed in isn’t big, so Jimin doesn’t make it far before he’s stopped by a thick gnarly trunk. He drags his aching body behind it, in an attempt to find some sort of cover, pressing his bruised back against the sturdy tree, his heart pounding, every breath of air ragged, his lungs burning. It smells of smoke and ashes. 

He lifts his trembling hands, gliding his fingertips over the skin of his face, then his throat, down to the collar of his shirt. Everything feels normal, not burned, there are only a couple of scrapes and scratches from their fall.

Holy shit.

He’s alive. 

A loud roar ringing through the air makes him turn to look around the trunk. 

Jungkook’s colossal form is majestic and terribly horrifying at the same time. 

Each of his scales shimmers in different shades of gold, gleaming like fragments of sunlight, his wings are spread out in the air, flapping in erratic motions, their leathery surface lined with veins that pulse with swirling glows of amber, as if filled with dragon fire, their movement creating gusts of wind that push away the fog, sending leaves and branches in a chaotic dance on the ground. 

He looks like he’s made of nothing but gold and fire, the only none-golden color, the deep emerald green of his eyes, glowing just as intensely. The pupils of said eyes contract when a shiver goes through the massive body, the wings quivering, and then Jungkook rears up again with another guttural cry, his jaws parting, revealing rows of enormous teeth, just as sharp looking as the spikes that run all the way down his spine, and then along his massive tail that’s swishing rapidly across the ground, from side to side. Jimin can consider himself lucky that he wasn’t cut by them when he was riding Jungkook’s back. 

He hears the rustling of animals around him, skittering away, birds flapping into the sky, disappearing into the fog in panic but Jungkook doesn’t pay them any mind. 

In fact, he doesn’t seem to see or hear anything. 

His body is spasming, his muscles visibly contracting, and with another cry he stumbles and collapses into the ground, causing it to shake so hard that Jimin curls his fingers into the bark to not lose his balance where he’s cowering. The dragon writhes and quivers, his wings tucking in, before he rears up again with a roar, stumbling and crashing into a nearby tree, where he convulses again.

He’s hurting. 

Jimin’s heart sinks when he catches sight of the foam in the corners of Jungkook’s mouth as the dragon throws his head from one side to the other, shaking as if he wants to shake something off of him.

Is he sick?

Jimin clings to the tree, his chest heavy with helplessness as he watches Jungkook continue writhing in pain, his ears ringing from the deafening cries and rumbling screams that send shockwave after shockwave through the woods. 

It seems to take an eternity for Jungkook’s tossing and squirming to stop, but eventually, he finally lies still, every loud puff of breath sending leaves flying in front of his face where his jaw is resting on the forest floor, his wings tucked tightly against his body. 

He seems tired and exhausted, his eyes strangely empty. 

Jimin’s heart is pounding in his chest, so hard that he thinks he can almost hear it in the eerie silence that has settled over them ever since the dragon has quieted down. He wonders if it’s safe for him to come out. Would Jungkook attack him? Surely the dragon can smell that he’s still here and he hasn’t been killed yet, so—

He swallows drily, his throat parched, and then he makes a decision. 

Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet, not taking his eyes off the giant golden form when he sets one foot in front of the other, leaves crunching under his shoes, as he carefully steps around the tree, revealing himself. 

A shudder runs down his spine when emerald eyes land on him. 

For a moment he just stands there, with his hand still on the bark, and waits, steeling himself for an attack, his mind and muscles ready to take off in the opposite direction if Jungkook would charge at him. 

But nothing happens.

The silence around them just drags on while Jungkook is staring at him. 

“Jungkook—” Jimin whispers.

No reaction. The dragon just keeps looking at him. 

Or is he looking through him? 

Somehow his eyes seem unseeing as if he’s not actually aware of his surroundings. 

Jimin takes a tentative step forward, his hand slipping from the bark. 

“Jungkook?” He asks, this time a little louder. 

He can see Jungkook’s nostrils twitch but that’s all the reaction he gets. 

Worry floods Jimin. Something’s not right. 

He just wants to take another step forward when sudden shouts ring through the air, coming from a distance. 

“I can see him!”

Only now Jimin realizes that the fog has completely lifted and when he turns around and looks up through the now clear air, between the gaps in the treetops, he can make out the rock face of the cliff they fell from, and on top of it, right at the edge, a group of people. Doyoon and his men look small from down here, their figures half-obscured by the foliage. 

“Down there!” The voices are far away. “He really shifted!” 

A hiss makes Jimin whirl around and he stumbles a couple of steps back when the ground starts shaking under Jungkook heaving himself up, his claws leaving thick scratches in the earthy surface, a low growl rumbling in his chest, his eyes clearly zeroing in on the people above them. 

The air seems to get hotter when he bares his teeth, his chest swelling, the rumbling getting louder and louder, until his jaw falls open with an ear-splitting screech, accompanied by a burst of flames, a blazing stream of scorching fire, that makes the atmosphere flicker with heat. Jimin tries to shield his face, tripping as he stumbles backwards, tumbling to the ground.

“Shit! We should leave!” 

The faint voices sound panicked now. 

“Run!” 

Jimin doesn’t even have time to do anything but stare from his spot on the ground when he’s hit with a gust of wind as Jungkook unfurls his wings, massive hind legs bending to crouch down low, the muscles under those scales flexing, before the golden body leaps into the sky. 

“Fuck! Runrunrun!” 

Jimin knows he shouldn’t watch.

He knows he should look away the moment Jungkook lands on top of the cliff, snapping at the humans scattering away.

He knows he should turn around. He knows this sight will haunt him forever. 

But still, he keeps looking. 

Doyoon’s body breaks like a porcelain doll between Jungkook’s jaws, crimson pieces raining to the ground like shards, his blood mixing with the blood of his men, who suffer the same fate only moments after. Anyone attempting to run away doesn’t make it far. Their limbs are ripped off by sharp teeth, their screams swallowed by huge paws, crushing in their heads, their bodies folding and crumbling. 

It’s a horrible sight, even from down here. And yet, Jimin can’t look away.

Only when Jungkook rears up with a guttural roar, another stream of flames leaving his open mouth, he snaps out of it and makes himself as small as possible, pressing his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out the shouts of fear and screams of agony of the few men left, who are now being burned to ashes. 

His heart is pounding uncomfortably and soon, even down here the air tastes of heat, making sweat form in his nape and on his forehead, tears stinging in his eyes when his nose is hit with the pungent smell of burning rubber and wood and most likely flesh. 

He bites his tongue, his stomach contracting. He feels sick. 

It’s okay, he thinks. They deserved it. 

He knows dragon fire kills extremely painfully, but also very quickly, so it doesn’t take long for the screams to finally die down and for the air to be only filled with the crackling sound of flames in the distance. And then the loud flapping of wings. 

A jolt goes through Jimin and he jumps to his feet, stumbling into the clearing, lifting his gaze to the sky. 

A giant silhouette soars above him, the golden-scaled body, splattered with blood, glinting in the sun. The wings are spread wide, effortlessly cutting through the air, creating ripples of wind that reach Jimin all the way down here, traveling over his skin softly. 

For a fleeting moment, Jungkook’s emerald eyes meet Jimin’s. 

Or maybe Jimin just imagined it. 

Because a heartbeat later, they look ahead again. 

“Jungkook,” he whispers. 

With each beat of wings, the dragon propels himself higher and farther, and Jimin’s heart sinks.

“Jungkook!” 

Gradually, Jungkook’s form gets smaller and smaller the further he disappears into the sky.

“Jungkook!” Jimin screams, so loud that it feels like the insides of his throat are ripped open.

His chest clenches as he watches the golden dragon – after one final beat of wings – being swallowed by thick white clouds in the distance. 

A sob tears from his throat, his knees giving out as a wave of exhaustion washes over him, his eyes watering, fixated on the spot where Jungkook has disappeared. 

Come back, he thinks. 

But deep inside he knows that Jungkook won’t. 

He’s finally free. He can finally go home. And that’s what he should do. 

He doesn’t belong here. It’s better this way. 

It was always supposed to end this way. 

And still, Jimin sits and waits, staring into the sky. 

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes into hours, the air around him getting thicker and thicker with the heavy stench of smoke from the fire that’s still blazing on top of the cliff behind him. 

The tears running down his face taste of ash and dirt. 

“Please come back,” he whispers.

But Jungkook is gone. 

“And the scars that mark my body, they’re silver and gold.” 

6 months later…

There’s a knock at his door.

“Yeah?” 

It opens with a click and Namjoon peeks his head in, light falling from the hallway into the dimly lit room.

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

“Yes,” Jimin lies, letting the book sink into his lap where he’s sitting on his bed, with his back propped up against the headboard. He hasn’t been reading anyway, the words nothing but a jumbled mess in front of his eyes, his brain not able to string them together or make sense of them whatsoever. Only now he realizes how dark it is in the room. 

Namjoon steps through the door with a hesitant smile.  

“Do you wanna join us anyway? Just to—you know—sit with us?”  

Jimin sighs and turns his head to look into the night outside the window. 

Snowflakes dance in the streetlight in front of their driveway, a thin layer of snow covering the bushes. Nobody is outside. The town they moved to, especially this neighborhood, is comfortably quiet at night. So different from the hustle and bustle of the city they left about half a year ago. 

“Give me a minute,” he mumbles without turning around.

“Take your time,” he hears the other say, before the door is closed softly. 

Jimin doesn’t mind eating. Not anymore. For a while it was physically hard for his body to stomach food and while that has gotten better eventually, his appetite is still taking its time to return. Even now, most foods still don't taste the way he remembers. 

Namjoon says it’s because he’s finally off the poison now and his body has to learn how to function without it. Yoongi once said it might be because of a broken heart. 

The wind outside picks up and the sight of the swirling snowflakes makes him a bit queasy, so he averts his eyes and picks up his phone instead, unlocking it to find three unread messages from Viv. She’s asking how they’re doing, if they’ve settled in already and if she can come visit, since it’s still winter break. 

Jimin drops his phone next to the book in his lap and lets his head fall back against the headboard with a heavy sigh. 

It would be kind of burdensome to have her over. But maybe it would also be kind of nice. Their new house is big, they have a guest room, they could go to that small winter festival for which the town has flyers plastered everywhere. She would like it. 

His phone buzzes in his lap. Another message from Viv.

How’s Jungkook doing btw?

Jimin’s throat closes up, a dull and heavy feeling settling in chest as he lets his hand sink.

I don’t know, he thinks, clenching his jaw to suppress the stinging in his eyes. I don’t fucking know. 

Nights are the hardest. Jimin usually lies awake, his mind haunted by their last couple of hours together before Jungkook left. He dreams of blood and fire and of a golden dragon. A golden dragon who, in his dreams, leaves him behind. Over and over again. 

He doesn’t blame Jungkook. It’s not like he owed Jimin anything, he had every right to leave after he was finally fully free. 

Namjoon said, the moment Jungkook turned to his full form, he was probably overwhelmed with the sudden connection to his tribe. Jimin hadn’t thought about that before, even though he knew dragons of the same tribe had a strong bond with each other and that they could communicate no matter the distance. A bond that had been cut by the suppressants for the longest time and then most likely flared up again when he finally shifted. It must’ve been a shock. 

Of course Jungkook left, of course he immediately wanted to be with his family who probably thought he was dead for years. Of course, he followed their call. It was natural. It was how it’s supposed to be. 

Jungkook doesn’t belong in this world. 

Humans kept him here long enough against his will and Jimin should be happy for him that it’s finally over. 

But the truth is— Jimin misses him. He feels empty. And he’s struggling. Every meal tastes bitter, laughter seems impossible to form and the tiniest social interaction feels crushing. Sometimes even interactions with Namjoon and Yoongi. 

In the beginning they tried talking to him about it. Or rather, they tried to make him talk. About his feelings and shit. But Jimin didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know what exactly he was feeling, and he got more and more frustrated. So, after a while, they gave up on talking and tried to cheer him up instead, which only made him snap at them. And now they’ve apparently decided not to bring it up at all anymore. They move around him as if they’re walking on eggshells, watching carefully what they say or how they say things—and that annoys Jimin too. 

He feels bad. He should be more grateful. 

He knows Namjoon slept in a chair beside his bed for three nights after they brought Jimin back home, exhausted, covered in wounds and bruises, and showing symptoms of smoke inhalation. 

He drops his gaze to his arm, taking in the nasty scars. 

They stem from the time he was hanging over that cliff, held back from falling only by Jungkook’s hand. He vividly remembers the feeling of those claws piercing his flesh, ripping his skin open when he slipped in the other’s hold. 

Sometimes, the phantom pain is still there, the scars a painful reminder of what happened. A physical memory that’s been etched deeply into his body.

The wounds got infected by ash and dirt and even though Namjoon treated them to the best of his ability, they kept opening up, Jimin scratching at them almost every single night in his sleep. 

That’s why they haven’t had the chance to heal properly. 

Now, the scars are still shiny and pink and slightly raised. And sometimes they burn, as if Jimin is touched by fire. 

The actual fire never touched him back then. It never made its way down the mountain, just kept blazing at the top.

Jimin doesn’t know if it made it to the news at the time, he was way too out of it once he made it back, but he searched it up a couple of weeks later and found a couple of articles about the ‘strange fire’ in a nature reserve that burned only in a certain area and never spread any farther. A fire that was almost impossible to put out by aerial firefighting, that seemed to blaze on and on even though there was nothing left for it to feed on. Everything was burned to the ground, there was only ashes left. 

Jimin knew what those ashes contained. Not just trees and bushes but also cars and people— 

Nobody will ever know and somehow, that thought makes him a little sick. 

He saw the pictures, the aerial shots taken from above. It looked like a part of the forest had been ripped out, a deep gaping hole in the middle of an ocean of trees. Like a scar on the earth’s surface. Similar to the scars on his arm. And the scars in his heart. 

The sound of Yoongi and Namjoon laughing downstairs has him snap back to here and now. 

With a heavy sigh he peels himself off his bed, sliding his feet into his slippers before making his way out of his room, shuffling along the hallway and then down the stairs. It smells of freshly baked pizza and immediately, his stomach gives a little growl. 

He’s a bit annoyed when he steps into the kitchen and notices that the table is set for three people, even though he told Namjoon that he’s eaten already. The other probably saw right through his lie. He always does.

The first thing he did when they met after what happened was pulling him into a crushing hug, sobbing into his shoulder. And Jimin, shocked by his tears – since he’d never seen him cry like that – just kept saying “I’m okay, I’m okay—”

Namjoon saw right through that lie too. 

Of course, Jimin wasn’t fine. Neither physically nor mentally. 

He can’t really remember how he made it out of that forest. He remembers that he wandered about for hours. He also remembers that he sobbed uncontrollably when he caught sight of a town in the distance and that the first thing he did was wash himself in a public bathroom. He was bleeding and covered in dirt and the few people who saw him looked so horrified that he was scared they would call the cops. Granted, even after washing up to the best of his ability, the cashier at the gas station looked concerned when he asked him if he could use his phone. Fortunately, he let him use it without asking any questions. 

Jimin didn’t know any of the others’ phone numbers by heart. He knew his own phone number though and remembered that he left his phone at home before he went to break Jungkook out. He hoped Namjoon and Yoongi took it with them when they came for him.

It rang only once, before Namjoon picked up. 

At his breathless “Hello?” immediate tears sprang to Jimin’s eyes. 

“Joonie, can you come pick me up?” 

They were there to get him not even an hour later. Apparently, they tried following after Doyoon’s convoy but got lost in the fog pretty early on, before they were forced to lay low entirely when the fire fighters marched up, their attempts to find a way around the fire to search for Jimin without being detected futile. 

Jimin doesn’t know what he would’ve done without them. Which is why he feels extra bad for being so difficult these days. 

He stands in the doorway and watches Yoongi getting the pizza out with those ridiculously huge oven mitts he loves so much, while Namjoon is struggling with the wine bottle. When he notices Jimin, his eyes light up.

“Do you want a glass, too?” 

Jimin shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks.”  

“I put artichokes on the pizza,” Yoongi says, holding out the tray, showing off a perfectly baked crust. “I know you like those. We made some salad, too. I tried out a new dressing.” After a short pause he quickly adds: “But of course you don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry.” 

“I’ll have a slice,” Jimin smiles before pulling back one of the chairs and sinking down on it. 

For the most part of their dinner it’s Namjoon and Yoongi talking about Namjoon’s new book and Yoongi’s music plans. Jimin just hums and nods here and there, nibbling his slice of pizza and sipping his water. After a while, the conversation dies down until the only sounds are the clanking of their cutlery and the soft music that Yoongi has put on earlier. 

“So, Yoongi and I were thinking—” Namjoon says once they’ve all finished their food. “How do you feel about going on a little vacation together?” 

Jimin blinks. “Vacation?” 

“Not right now,” Yoongi says. “But maybe in a month or two when it has gotten a bit warmer. I heard Europe is nice in spring.” 

“Why?” Jimin asks with a frown.

“Why is Europe nice in spring or-”

“No, why do you want to go on vacation?” 

They exchange glances. 

“We just thought it might be good to get a bit out of here, you know,” Namjoon looks at him carefully. “Bring some distance between us and—and what happened.” 

A hard knot forms in Jimin’s stomach and he drops his gaze to his empty plate.

“We already moved here to bring some distance between us and what happened though—” 

They also moved because they didn’t feel safe in their old city anymore, let alone in their old apartment complex. Even though Doyoon and most of his men are gone, they couldn’t be sure if there was still someone after them. 

“Yes but we were thinking about new experiences as well. Seeing new things, getting to know new cultures, just— having a bit of a break—” Namjoon sighs. “Maybe it was a bad idea, I don’t want to-” 

“No, it’s not a bad idea,” Jimin mumbles without meeting the others’ eyes. 

It really isn’t. It’s a great idea. On paper. On paper it makes sense that getting far away, at least for a little while, could help them move forward. It’s just that Jimin feels stuck. Frozen. Unable to move. The thought of traveling alone makes him exceptionally uncomfortable. 

“Can I—,” he swallows drily. “Think about it?” 

“Of course!”

“Sure!” 

“It’s just an idea, we can talk about it again in a couple of weeks if you want.”

He looks up at Namjoon with a weak smile. “Okay.” 

It’s silent for a moment before Jimin goes on.

“Actually—” He drops his gaze again and fiddles with his napkin. “Viv wants to come visit. I thought maybe—maybe she could stay a couple of days and we could all go to that winter festival?”

When he’s not met with any response he looks up. Both Namjoon and Yoongi are staring at him with surprise written all over their faces. Jimin can’t blame them. Him suggesting this must come so out of blue for them. 

“Unless you don’t want any guests over, yet,” he’s quick to say. “I know the guest room isn’t fully furnished yet, and there still are the boxes with the-” 

“We would love to have her over,” Namjoon interrupts, sharing a look with Yoongi. “Right?” 

“Yes,” Yoongi nods vehemently. “And I’m sure she’ll love the winter festival.” 

Jimin can tell they are trying not to sound too excited. He smiles sheepishly. 

“Yeah, she will.” 

There is just one thing— She doesn’t know about Jungkook not being here anymore. Obviously, he has to tell her and obviously she’ll have questions. He’ll probably just tell her a story of them ‘breaking up’ since she was under the impression they were dating but— 

A thick lump starts forming in his throat, his eye burning. 

Shit, he really doesn’t want to cry. Not now. Not here. Not in front of the others. 

It’s ridiculous how one single thought about Jungkook still has him tear up like this. As if his body is just waiting for any opportunity to scream and cry, to break down, to- 

The sudden sound of the doorbell ringing has them all jump in their seats. 

Yoongi makes a confused sound and Namjoon frowns deeply, pushing his chair back. “Who is this? At this time?” 

“I’ll get it,” Jimin quickly says, happy to have something to distract his mind from those painful thoughts. 

“Maybe Mrs. Jenkins is searching for her cat again,” he hears Yoongi mumble behind him as he makes his way out of the kitchen.

“Last week it was behind our dumpster,” Namjoon chuckles.

Once he has stepped into the hallway, Jimin feels like he can breathe again. When the doorbell rings once more, he quickens his steps. “Coming!” 

Since it’s rather late, the others have already locked the door from the inside. He unlocks it with quick fingers, cold winter air hitting him when he pulls it open.

At the sight in front of him, he immediately shrinks back, his smile slipping from his face.

Three sets of emerald eyes burn into him with a mix of curiosity and determination, belonging to three strangers – three men – standing on the snow-covered front steps, illuminated by the glow of the streetlamps, dressed in all black, snowflakes caught in their black hair. 

“Hello,” the shortest of them says with a big smile, displaying a sharp set of fangs. “You’re Jimin, right?” 

A sharp jolt of panic makes Jimin’s heart race and he stumbles back, just about to throw the door shut, when a clawed hand shoots out to stop it. 

“We’re here to talk.” The second guy says, his voice deep, his tone hard. Jimin’s eyes wander from his clawed fingers pushing against the door to a spot where his long sleeve has ridden up slightly, revealing a small tattoo of three circles, right above his wrist bone. Jimin’s gaze snaps up to his face with a gasp of surprise. That tattoo-

“Don’t say it so ominously,” the third scolds, his fist connecting with the guy’s upper arm before he turns to Jimin. “Sorry about him. We’re here to talk nicely.” He throws the guy a warning glance, who just scoffs, his lips forming a harsh line. “I’m Seokjin, these are Hoseok and Taehyung. We’re Jungkook’s friends.” 

There is a rush in Jimin’s ears and he’s sure he’s about to pass out. 

“Can we come in?” 

The air in their cozy kitchen, still filled with the lingering smell of pizza and wine, is heavy with tension.

Jimin sits in his usual spot at the table, flanked by Yoongi and Namjoon. Opposite to them the three dragons have taken a seat. Except for Taehyung, who refused to sit down. Instead, he stands behind the other two with crossed arms and a scowl on his face. There is an air of disdain around him, his hard gaze locked onto Jimin in a way that has Jimin shrink into himself. 

Even though the three of them aren’t as big as Jungkook, their imposing demeanor crowds the room, makes it feel too small, makes it too hard to breathe. 

The one called Hoseok is the first to speak. 

“We didn’t come here to cause trouble.” There is an uncertain smile on his face. “We can tell you’re nervous but we assure you, there is nothing to worry about.” 

Beside him, Yoongi’s grip around his fork tightens. A tiny movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung, who’s chest rumbles with a warning growl. 

Yoongi scoffs. “Tell that to your guard dog.”

“That’s enough,” Seokjin says, turning to look at Taehyung. “You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be.” 

A muscle in Taehyung’s jaw twitches but the growling stops. With a sigh, Seokjin looks at them again. 

“We know, we’re not entirely welcome here. And we wish we wouldn’t have to be here at all.” He looks at each of them and when his eyes find Jimin’s, his gaze lingers. “But we need your help.” 

The daunting feeling that has been lingering in Jimin’s stomach like a lump ever since the three have appeared grows bigger. 

“Is Jungkook okay?” He rasps. 

“Of course he fucking isn’t,” Taehyung hisses and Jimin shrinks into his chair at the hostile sound. “How can he be after you guys made him fucking sick?” 

He has somehow expected the answer. He immediately knew something was wrong with Jungkook when he saw them. 

“Tae,” Hoseok warns softly.

“Listen,” Namjoon suddenly speaks up next to Jimin, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. “Whatever is wrong with him, I don’t think we can help.”

“Ah, but we think you can,” Seokjin says with a smile. “Actually, you’re probably the only ones who can help.”

“Jimin, to be precise.” Hoseok looks at him. 

“Me?” 

“Yes.” 

Namjoon wants to say something else, but Jimin reaches out and puts a hand on his leg, stilling the bouncing. 

“Let them explain, please.” 

The other sighs and slumps back in his chair, exhaustion edged into his face.

Jimin gestures for the others to go on, ignoring Taehyung’s lingering glare. 

“Well—” Seokjin starts, his hands curling around the edge of their wooden table and for a moment he seems unsure how to go on. “When Jungkook came back—it came as a surprise to all of us.” He pauses and looks at them. “Came back as in—here.” He taps his temple with his clawed finger. “We could suddenly feel him again, hear him again. When his connection cut off all those years ago while he was visiting the human world we were sure he was dead. We were grieving him—” 

Taehyung shifts on his feet and when Jimin looks at him, he’s met with another scathing stare. He quickly averts his eyes.

“When we felt him again, immediately some of us set out to find him. He was confused.”

“Confused?” Jimin whispers, his fingers fiddling with the napkin in front of him nervously. 

“He seemed overwhelmed,” Hoseok says, meeting eyes with Seokjin briefly. “And a bit lost.”

“He couldn’t find his way back?” 

Seokjin makes a contemplating sound. “Well, he did find his way back—physically. But not to us.” 

Jimin frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“He blocked us out. Is still blocking us out.” Seokjin drops his gaze and sighs. “He pulled back from us.”

“He’s shutting himself away in an area not far from our settlement and doesn’t let anyone come near,” Hoseok explains. “And not only doesn’t he let anyone come near, he also hasn’t shifted back to his human form. Not even once.” 

That has Namjoon next to Jimin sit up tall. “That’s—That’s bad isn’t it?” 

Jimin looks back and forth between him and the dragons. “Bad?!” 

There is a scoff. “For someone who studied him for years you sure are clueless,” Taehyung says, his voice hard, his eyes boring into Jimin.

“Okay, listen,” Yoongi gets up from his chair. “I don’t know what your problem is, but-” 

“My problem?!” Taehyung rounds the table with quick steps, shaking off Seokjin’s hand trying to hold him back, until he’s right in front of Yoongi, staring down at him with a look of disdain. 

“Hey,” Namjoon’s chair scrapes over the floor when he pushes it back to stand up. “Get away from him.” 

Taehyung ignores him. 

“My fucking problem is that I lost my best friend,” he spits. “Because of humans.” 

Yoongi’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists on either side of him, one of them still clutching his fork. He doesn’t back down, even when Taehyung steps closer. 

“Tae,” Seokjin warns. “Stop it.” 

“My fucking problem is that for a moment I thought I got him back, only to realize I’m losing him again. My problem is that he will fucking die if we don’t do anything.”

Jimin gasps. Die?! 

“Then stop causing issues that keep us from explaining the problem!” Seokjin’s tone is hard as he gets up from his chair too, leaning forward with his hands on the table. “Stop making a fuss!” 

“A fuss?!” Taehyung whirls around. “Why does it take you so long to explain the problem anyway?!” 

“Because we can’t just come here and-” 

“They will fucking kill him!” Taehyung interrupts. “They will kill him and we need you,” he turns to look at Jimin, pointing a clawed finger at him. “To stop that from happening.” 

Jimin’s mouth is dry, his heart hammering in his throat, his eyes snapping back and forth between everyone who’s standing around the table. 

“Why—What?” 

Taehyung groans at his stammering. 

“Tae,” Hobi says softly. “Come on, cut it out.” 

The other’s shoulders slowly sink. Then he shakes his head and with a final scoff, and a glare at Jimin, he retreats to his spot behind the others. Seokjin slumps down on his chair with a sigh. 

“I wanted to get to that point more—carefully, but – yes – Jungkook will die if we don’t do anything.” 

“Why—why will he die?” Jimin asks, while both Namjoon and Yoongi sink back down on either side of him stiffly. “Who wants to—” His breath shudders. “Who wants to kill him?!” 

“Jungkook is a Zelkath,” Seokjin’s eyes find his. “I’m sure you know that.” 

When Jimin nods, he goes on.

“Zelkaths are considered a threat by many. Our elders—well, Jungkook has been a thorn in their eyes ever since he was born.” 

“Elders?” Namjoon asks.

“A group of dragons, who have been around for centuries. They are immortal and we consider them our spiritual leaders. They are well respected and although Jungkook is our tribe’s leader, even he has to follow their rules.” 

“They are the supreme authority?” 

Namjoon’s question is answered with a court nod. 

“Yes. And a powerful one at that. Not just because their word is law, but because they are the strongest and most powerful among us, both physically and magically.” Seokjin shakes his head with a weak and empty laugh, dropping his gaze. “For the past six months they have been monitoring him and the fact that he doesn’t return to his human form and that he refuses to communicate made them—well—” His jaw clenches. “They certified him insane and a threat to everyone. And—” His eyes find Jimin’s. “They sentenced him to death. It will happen next full moon.”  

Jimin feels all color drain from his face. 

“But why doesn’t he turn back?” His fingers curl into fists on the table. “Why doesn’t he communicate with you, what’s—what’s wrong with him? Why-”

“He’s grieving.”

Jimin looks at Hoseok and frowns. “Grieving? Why?” 

“Technically, he does communicate with us,” Seokjin says. “But he only shows us one thing. The same memory. Over and over again.” 

“You,” Taehyung spits and Jimin’s eyes snap up to look at him. 

“Me?” He whispers.

“You falling,” the other grits out between clenched teeth. “For the past six months—It’s just that. You falling. Again and again. You falling, you falling, you falling.” His gaze drops to Jimin’s lower arm that’s resting on the table. The one with the scars, stemming from Jungkook’s claws cutting into his flesh when he was trying to hold on to him that day. When Jimin curls his hand around it protectively, the other averts his eyes.

“That memory is all he thinks of,” Seokjin says softly. “It’s like a wall that doesn’t let us through. He thinks you’re dead.”

Jimin shakes his head. “But I’m not.” 

“Imagine our surprise,” Taehyung scoffs. 

Jimin ignores him. 

“Why does he think I’m dead? We—” He pauses at the memory before he whispers. “We fell together—” 

“And then he turned, right?” Seokjin asks carefully.

Jimin nods weakly, feeling Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s eyes on him. He’s never really told them what exactly happened and somehow it feels weird that these complete strangers know more about him than his best friends. 

“That’s how I survived. He saved my life. I don’t know why he thinks I’m-” 

“We can’t say for sure, but we think it’s because his first transformation after such a long time came from—” Seokjin seems to search for the right words. “From such trauma.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. “When we heard of the elders’ decision we knew we had to do something. So we forced our way through those memories that kept repeating over and over, to see what lies beneath. To get to the real ones.” He grimaces. “Stuff like that—forcing ourselves into someone’s mind against their will—we usually don’t do that. It’s a terrible breach of trust and a dangerous endeavor when it comes to a Zelkath. We knew whoever was going into his mind, could die. It had to be someone he truly trusts.” 

Hoseok nods in his chair next to Seokjin. 

“Thankfully, we were successful,” he says. “That’s how we found out that you’re actually not dead. You appear in his memories even after that fall. He just—forgot.” 

Jimin worries his lower lip, slowly lifting his gaze to look at Taehyung again, who is rolling his shoulders, as if to shake off tension. 

‘It had to be someone he truly trusts.’

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Jimin asks carefully. “The one who went in.” 

Taehyung arches an eyebrow. “Yes.” 

So he saw everything. 

Jimin swallows nervously. 

Just like that, Taehyung's hostile behavior made much more sense. 

He saw it. All of it. 

What they did to Jungkook, the years of suffering they caused him. Holding him in that cell like an animal, the suppressants that caused him pain, the constant physical exams that left him almost no dignity—

“And imagine my surprise when I saw you,” Taehyung drawls. “Very much alive, crying in the middle of that clearing, begging for him to come back.” 

Jimin flushes, his throat clogging up when the words bring back the same feeling of helplessness he felt back then, and for a second, the room smells of burned flesh. 

“So he saw me—He heard me—” Jimin whispers, as the phantom smell subsides. “Why did he forget?” 

Why didn’t he come back for me?

Seokjin shakes his head. “We don’t know why he buried all those memories, except for the ones of you falling. Like I said, we think it has to do with trauma. Transforming is always a very spiritual experience for us. It usually happens when we’re one with nature, when we’re concentrated and calm. Not in times of despair. It must’ve been confusing for him. Painful too.”

Pictures of Jungkook’s dragon form convulsing appear in front of Jimin’s inner eyes, his roars of agony fresh in his memory as if it was yesterday. Yes, Jungkook was definitely in pain. 

Next to Jimin, Yoongi leans forward with his elbows on the table. 

“So, you want Jimin to do what now? You wanna show him off to Jungkook, and then what? You’re hoping Jungkook will turn back when he sees he’s alive and that he'll be fine— just like that?” He snaps his fingers. 

Seokjin and Hoseok share a look. 

“Well, that’s the rough idea,” Seokjin says. “At least that’s what we’re hoping for.” 

“And how do you intend to do that when he doesn’t allow anyone near him? Not even you, if I understood correctly.” 

“You did—” Seokjin nods. “The one who’s gotten the closest to him both mentally and physically, before he made a move to attack, was Taehyung.” He points over his shoulder at the dragon in question. “And that was still—what? A mile from his nest?” 

Taehyung nods, his jaw tight. “A bit more than a mile.” 

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. “So? How would you wanna make that work with Jimin?”

Seokjin shifts in his chair, seeming nervous all of a sudden, his eyes flicking between the three of them. 

“Jimin would have to go alone.” 

A jerk goes through Namjoon beside him.

“You want him to walk into a dragon’s nest all by himself?!” He barks out a laugh. “A Zelkath’s nest?! No,” he shakes his head and crosses his arms. “He’s not gonna do it.”

“I am gonna do it.” Jimin sits up tall. 

Namjoon looks at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“It’s too risky, Jimin!” 

“I don’t care about the risks,” Jimin immediately objects. After all, it’s their fault that Jungkook is sick. Kind of. If not for them he wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. “We—I need to help him, Joon. If you think about it—it’s because of us that he’s like this. It’s because of us that he might die.”

“Damn right,” he hears Taehyung mutter. 

Seokjin throws the other a quick glare over his shoulder before he looks at Jimin again.

“I’m going to be honest, that it’s indeed risky because—because we don’t know the risks.” His gaze wanders to Namjoon. “We have no idea what might happen. This is a first for all of us.” 

“Worst case scenario?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with impatience. 

“He doesn’t recognize Jimin and kills him.” 

When Namjoon looks at him again, there is something hard in his gaze. A hardness that Jimin knows stems from fear and worry. 

“You’re not gonna do it.” He grabs Jimin’s lower arm. “You’re not!” 

“Joon, I have to.” 

“No. You don’t.” The other shakes his head. “We did everything we could. We tried to make things right, we tried to help him get his dragon form back, you tried to break him out when that asshole got him, you—we did all we could—”

“But was that enough?” Jimin whispers. “He’s still not fully back. If it wasn’t because of us, he’d never be in this situation to begin with, so isn’t it our–my duty to-” 

“It was because of your father, Jimin!”  Namjoon’s tone is pleading now. “Not because of you. You need to stop carrying all that guilt for things you didn’t do. It’s not your duty to make things right.”

“But whose is it then?” 

Namjoon’s mouth opens and closes, before his jaw clenches. 

“We already almost lost you twice.” His grip around Jimin’s arm tightens. “When Kim Doyoon took him, and then when you wanted to get him out of there—You know, I—I do get it—I know you needed to do that. Because you felt guilty. And because—” His voice drops to a whisper. “And because of your feelings for him.” Heat spreads in Jimin's cheeks but before he can say anything, Namjoon goes on. “I didn’t look out for you enough and then I almost lost you. When those guys took you—I thought I’d never see you again. You almost died, Jimin.” 

“But I didn’t,” Jimin whispers, dropping his gaze. “Because he saved my life. And now I have to save his.” 

“You don’t have to!” 

“But I want to.” There is something hard forming in Jimin’s throat. “I couldn’t live with myself if he would die.” 

Namjoon’s face contorts with pain. “And I couldn’t live if you would die.” 

“I’m—” Blurriness burns in Jimin’s eyes. “I promise it’ll be alright. He won’t harm me.”

“How do you know that?” 

“I just—I just know.” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “That’s not enough.” 

“I’m going to do it.” He feels horrible when something inside Namjoon seems to break at his words. “I’m sorry.” 

The other’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s over Jimin’s shoulder. 

“Say something.” 

There is a long pause. 

“Joonie—,” Yoongi eventually whispers. “There is nothing we can do, and you know it.” 

Namjoon’s lips tighten, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. And then he leaps to his feet so quickly that it makes Jimin jump, turning around and hurrying out the door, his fists balled. 

“Joon!” Jimin calls after him and they collectively flinch at the sound of the door to Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s bedroom slamming shut. 

Jimin’s shoulders sink when exhaustion washes over him. He sighs in defeat. This is such a horrible mess.

“I’ll talk to him,” he mumbles as he gets up before Yoongi can make a move, following after his best friend with quick steps. He takes a deep breath to steady himself when he approaches the closed bedroom door. 

He knocks gently. 

“Joon, can I come in?” 

A couple of seconds go by before a tiny affirmative sound reaches him through the wood. He pushes the door open and enters, before closing it softly behind him.

Namjoon is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees heavily. His posture speaks of exhaustion and a pang of guilt flares up in Jimin’s chest when he notices his shoulders trembling. 

He’s crying.

“Joonie—”

He steps between the other’s legs and wraps his arms around him, pulling him in. He can feel Namjoon’s hesitation for a moment before he hugs him back around his legs, burying his face in Jimin’s stomach, letting out shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, the wetness of tears spreading on Jimin’s shirt. He holds him close, running his fingers through his hair, and it takes a white, but eventually, Namjoon’s shoulders relax and the sniffles subside. 

Jimin gently releases him and sits down at the bed beside him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For doing this to you again.” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Namjoon’s voice is hoarse, sounding defeated, and still wet with tears. 

Jimin grabs his hands in both of his, squeezing, searching his eyes. 

“You won’t. I promise you won’t.” 

The tip of the other’s nose is slightly red, his face a bit blotchy. He shakes his head. 

“Please don’t make promises that you can’t keep for sure.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“I don’t want you to do this. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.” His voice wobbles again. “I could never—if you’d die, I could never—”

Jimin squeezes the other’s hands harder, another hot knot forming in his throat and it takes him a minute until he’s able to say something. 

“You know what he told me?” He whispers. “That he got Pearl and Kalliope out of there too when he escaped.” 

Namjoon’s head snaps up and he blinks at him wetly. “He did?” 

Jimin smiles. “Yes— They are safe.” 

An airy laugh leaves the other’s throat, a lighthearted sound of disbelief. 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wow—” He whispers. “Wow, that’s— I’m glad.”  

“Me too,” Jimin says, before he drops his gaze to their intertwined hands, not looking at the other when he continues.

“I never apologized for what I said back then. When we had that fight. I was out of line.” 

“No, Jimin, I-”

“I said horrible things to you,” Jimin interrupts him. “Things I truly didn’t mean. And for that I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I’m—” He bites his lips and shakes his head before looking up. When their eyes meet, his sight blurs with tears. “I’m sorry that I’m causing you so much worry.” His voice wobbles. “You’re always there for me, you always do everything to keep me safe, and I’m so sorry for—” He laughs shakily. “For being me. You’re right— I still feel guilty about back then. What we did to them and—and I just want to make things right again but—” He drops his head. “With Jungkook, there is something else,” he whispers. “I can’t—I miss him so much, Joon.” 

Namjoon sighs, letting go of Jimin’s hand to flick his nose gently, making him look up again. 

“First of all, don’t apologize for being you. You’re the most compassionate and good-hearted person I know and the way you want to make things right is very—very noble of you. And I know—” He smiles crookedly. “I know what he means to you. So of course you want to help him. I understand that, it’s just—the fact that it’s at the risk of your own life is—” He drops his shoulders and shakes his head. “I just can’t accept that.” 

A sudden knock at the door startles them both.

“Give us a moment,” Jimin calls. 

“I don’t have a moment.” 

At the sound of Taehyung’s voice of all people, they both sit up straight, exchanging surprised glances.  

“I want to tell you something. Can I come in?” His tone is impatient.

“Yeah—Come in.” 

When Taehyung does, he’s sporting an expression that seems equal parts annoyed and reluctant. He doesn’t close the door behind him, just stands there with his arms crossed. 

“What do you want?” Namjoon asks, a hint of caution in his voice. 

Taehyung throws Jimin a glare before looking at Namjoon. 

“Listen— Jungkook won’t kill him, okay? You have my word.” 

Namjoon frowns. “How do you know?” 

“I just know, okay,” Taehyung huffs. “Now get it together.” 

“And why should I believe you?” 

The other stares him down, his jaw working as he seems to contemplate something. Then his shoulders sink when he sighs in defeat, uncrossing his arms and running clawed fingers through his black hair. 

“I’m gonna say this just once.” He sounds tired. “I fucking hate you. All of you.” When his gaze shifts to Jimin, it’s hard and cold. “You most of all.”

Jimin shrinks back into himself. 

“And do you wanna know why?” 

Jimin shrugs weakly. “Do I?” 

Taehyung grimaces. “Because he fucking loves you.” 

Jimin blinks in surprise, his eyes widening, his heart skipping a beat as he struggles to process the words. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I just said,” Taehyung huffs. “I saw his memories, I felt his feelings. There was so much—” His jaw clenches. “So much appreciation for you.” He spits the word out as if it’s poison, the admission clearly made with reluctance, before an empty chuckle leaves his throat. “Even though you humans did such horrible things to him—he fell in love with one.” He shakes his head before he mumbles: “Fucking idiot. Always been one.” 

Jimin’s eyes snap to the tattoo on the other’s wrist, half obscured by his long sleeve. The same Jungkook also has. Idiot. 

Somehow he feels like crying. 

“He really is an idiot—” 

Taehyung stares at him a moment longer before he looks at Namjoon again.

“So I can assure you,” he jerks his chin at Jimin. “He’s safe. Jungkook is grieving because in his head he’s lost the one he loves. He’s wasting away because of it—” His eyes snap to Jimin, and he looks him up and down, his nostrils flaring. “And I can tell that you’re not faring much better.” 

Jimin ducks his head, glancing at Namjoon, who frowns deeply.

“But the others— They said he might be too far gone.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “They weren’t in there. They didn’t see what I saw.” The look in his eyes is pleading. “I don’t think he would be even physically capable of hurting him.”  

And then he does something that has both Jimin and Namjoon gasp. He sinks to his knees, bending forward until his forehead touches the wooden floor. 

“I’m begging you—Please save him. He’s my best friend. My brother.” There’s a shaky inhale of breath. “I can’t lose him again.” 

When Jimin looks at Namjoon, behind the surprised expression, he can see a flicker of recognition. As if he’s recognizing that they are in similar situations. Taehyung is just like him. Just like Namjoon, he wants to keep someone safe who is so important to him. 

Even though they are different, they are the same. 

Trust still has to be earned on both sides. That much is clear. 

It’s the reason why Namjoon and Yoongi don’t let Jimin leave with the dragons alone – of course they tag along – and why they are now led through the forest blindfolded, holding each other’s hands, trying not to slip or trip on the uneven terrain while they are brought to the dragons’ settlement, walking deeper and deeper into the forest. The air is thick with the scent of trees and earth, the distant sounds of nature creating an eerie kind of feeling that Jimin has never experienced before. 

It took them about a day to get here, the atmosphere between the six of them, squeezed together in Yoongi’s car, awkward. For the most part, they were silent, with the only sounds being the humming of the engine and Seokjin’s voice giving directions to their destination, a specific woodland edge.

Now that they are stumbling through the forest, Jimin can’t keep himself from wondering if this was a bad idea. The longer he’s trapped in the darkness of his blindfold, the harder it gets to push the thoughts away that, maybe, this is all a ruse. Maybe the dragons lied to take revenge on them. To punish them for what they did to Jungkook. 

The heavy feeling of worry clogs his throat. Was he too naive? 

When their blindfolds are finally removed, Jimin steels himself for a possible attack, can feel Yoongi doing the same right next to him, but instead his breath catches in his throat at the sight in front of them.

Their surroundings seem to shimmer with an otherworldly energy.

Massive trees, with bark as dark as midnight, tower around them, knobby and ancient, the treetops dense and thick, only here and there the last bits of golden sunlight break through the leaves. The trunks and branches are covered with luminous flowers that cast soft glows, each in its own pastel color, fireflies dancing in the air around them, tiny dots of sparkling light, like stardust.

Here, it’s not winter. Instead, the air is pleasantly warm and fresh. Vines and mosses drape from every surface and Jimin can hear the soft rustling of leaves, the distant call of birds. There is a tingling sensation gracing his skin as they are led through the settlement, the atmosphere loaded with some kind of energy. He wonders if this is what magic feels like.

The homes of the dragons blend seamlessly with their surroundings.

Elaborate treehouses, woven from branches and vines, soar high above the forest floor, almost like an extension of the forest itself. Narrow bridges connect them, suspended within and between treetops. The pathways, down here and up there, are illuminated by lanterns that look like they were crafted from crystal.

Something peaceful and calm washes over Jimin at the sight. 

It’s short-lived though, because only a heartbeat later, he feels the weight of gazes on him. 

They are being watched warily from above by dozens of emerald eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and caution. Whispers in a melodic language that Jimin doesn’t understand fill the air as the dragons exchange hushed words among themselves. 

While Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung are dressed in what Jimin can only describe as human clothes, black pants and jackets – nothing you would turn your head around for in the human world – everyone else here is dressed in earthy-toned clothes that are adorned with delicate embroidery, feathers, leaves and gems intricately woven into the fine fabrics. 

When he accidentally locks eyes with one of them, a young girl, she visibly startles before baring her teeth at him. Quickly, he looks away and exchanges nervous glances with Namjoon and Yoongi. He’s glad they’re here with him. 

Just as much as they seem nervous, the others seem in awe as well. Jimin can tell, Namjoon is twitching with excitement, probably itching to touch, inspect and examine every leaf, every fruit, every patch of moss. 

“You can stay here for the night.” 

Seokjin’s voice pulls him from his thoughts and he follows his pointed finger to the treehouse right above them, located at the end of wooden stairs that spiral around the trunk. “The journey to his nest takes a while, it’s too late to start it now.” 

“We’ll head out at sunrise,” Taehyung says. This is the first time Jimin has heard him speak since they left. Even though his demeanor towards them hasn’t been as hostile since their talk, he’s still cold, his stares still scathing. 

“Okay,” Jimin nods. 

“I’ll show you around your quarters,” Hoseok says and beckons them to follow him up the stairs. 

The wooden railing feels smooth under Jimin’s hand as he follows him. Again, his breath is taken away, once they step into the treehouse. The ceilings are higher than expected, the rooms built around the thick trunk of the tree that grows right through the middle of the first room they step in.

The floors in the entire house are made of wood that’s worn smooth by countless footsteps, woven rugs filling the spaces between furniture that’s decorated in elaborate carvings, patterns and motifs that seem to come alive in the soft light of the lamps that glow neither powered by electricity nor fire. Potted plants and hanging vines make the space feel like a living part of the forest. 

There is only one bedroom but it will make do, the armchair in the corner, upholstered with soft looking fabric and covered in thick cushions looks exceptionally inviting and comfy to Jimin right now. 

He’s tired from their journey here. He’s also nervous and on edge. 

Hoseok ends the house tour on a small balcony that looks over the forest below. It has gotten a lot darker already and from here, Jimin can see the soft light in all the other tree houses across from them, through the leaves right above them the stars are glimmering in the dark blue sky that's not been entirely blackened by night yet. 

“That’s where you’re headed tomorrow,” Hoseok suddenly says, pointing at something in the distance. 

Jimin steps up next to him and follows his line of sight. 

A hill, barely visibility through the canopy, towers in the distance, its silhouette looming in the setting darkness. 

“That’s where he is?” Jimin asks quietly.

“Yes. That’s where he’s hiding in one of the caves.” 

Jimin squirms on his feet, his chest squeezing at the thought of Jungkook all alone there, in the distance, in the darkness. 

“Is he lonely?” He whispers. 

Hoseok shakes his head. “I don’t think so. The magic there is keeping him company.” 

“Magic?”

“The magic is the strongest up there. So strong that it reaches us all the way down here. It’s our source, it’s what we thrive from. And as long as dragons have magic, they are never lonely.”

Jimin’s heart breaks a little at the words because immediately he realizes that, for years, Jungkook was utterly lonely. Trapped in the human world with no connection to his magic nor his tribe. 

Hoseok doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil. He just smiles softly at the hill in the distance, before his expression suddenly turns into a frown. He looks at Jimin. 

“We will give you instructions tomorrow, but remember this: Be careful of the magic. Humans can’t handle it.” 

Jimin frowns. “Why not?” 

“Sources of magic are strong and your bodies are not made to withstand them. Don’t get too close to it.” 

“But—how do I avoid it? How do I even recognize it?”  

“You’ll feel it. It will try to pull you in.” 

At how worried Jimin must look, the other chuckles. 

“Sorry, I’m probably scaring you. Don’t worry too much about it, it won’t kill you or anything. It might make you sick though. Just avoid going inside any of the caves.”

“But-”

“The magic is the strongest there. Outside you should be fine.” 

“But how am I supposed to get to him, if I can’t go inside his cave to meet him?” 

“Let him come to you.”

Even after Hoseok has long left, the hill has long been completely swallowed by darkness, and Namjoon and Yoongi have headed to bed with soft words of wishing him goodnight, Jimin remains standing on the balcony, staring out into the night, his hands curling around the railing. 

Tomorrow, he will bring Jungkook back. 

No matter what it takes.

Chapter Text

Set me free.

Unsurprisingly, Jimin hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Namjoon and Yoongi don’t look like they did either. Neither does Taehyung, who is now wearing the same earthy toned clothes all the other dragons were wearing the day before. 

None of the dragons are here this early in the morning. At least Jimin doesn’t see them. He does feel some hidden eyes on him though. 

He knows Taehyung, who still doesn’t seem to fully trust them, has spent most of the night below their tree, armed with what Jimin now realizes is a sword. An uneasy feeling floods him at the sight of the weapon, and he can tell Namjoon is eyeing it warily as well. Yoongi, on the other hand, seems curious. Fascinated even. He too only looks from afar though.

The first rays of morning sun paint the forest in hues of gold and amber as they set out on their journey to the hill where Jungkook has made his nest. Taehyung is leading them along the narrow paths in silence, followed by Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok and Seokjin are in the very back. Morning dew glitters in the leaves and on the grass around them, and Jimin’s breath is fogging in front of his face, the air cool and clear and alive with the songs of hidden birds. 

A mix of anticipation, worry and quite a bit of fear is tugging on his nerves. All he can think about is Jungkook, as he follows behind the others. Jungkook, whom he hasn’t seen in months. Jungkook, who has been grieving him all this time, thinking he’s dead. Jungkook, who—who loves him. 

It takes them a lot longer to reach the hill than he anticipated and by the time they step out of the forest and start making their way across a wide open field, it still seems rather small in the distance. Jimin can’t take his gaze off it, his eyes searching for a sign of Jungkook, for a glint of gold between the greenery of trees covering the hillsides. But there is nothing. 

With every step his nerves pull tighter and tighter. 

Once they’ve finally left the open field behind and reached the edge of the forest, which marks the foot of the hill, the sun is up high in the sky and Jimin is out of breath. 

Thankfully, that’s when Taehyung signals a pause and the group comes to a stop. 

“From this point forward,” he turns around to look at them. “It’s just Jimin and me.” 

Namjoon tenses. “Why?” 

“If we go any closer, Jungkook will sense our presence and potentially attack us,” Seokjin explains from behind. “So far, Taehyung was the only one who could go further than this. We’ll wait down here.” 

“What if he attacks when Jimin sets foot on the hill?” 

“That’s why we’re here,” Hoseok explains, even though he sounds somewhat nonchalant, Jimin notices the strain in his shoulders. “Three dragons against a Zelkath would still be no easy fight, but we could probably hold him off.” 

Namjoon’s jaw clenches. “Probably?”

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, stepping up to the other, pulling him into a hug. “It’ll be fine, Joon.” 

The embrace around him is strong and crushing.

“Be careful, yeah?” Namjoon whispers, his fingers curling in Jimin’s shirt. “And don’t forget what they said about the magic up there. It might make you sick. Please—Promise that you’ll be careful.” 

“I promise.” Jimin takes a step back and smiles at him, before squeezing his upper arm. “Thank you—you know—for everything.” 

The other chuckles and shakes his head. “The years of life I’ve probably lost because of worrying for you—” 

Jimin snorts, and gives him another hug. “I’m sorry.” He really means it.

After hugging Yoongi goodbye too, he follows Taehyung up the hill, but only a couple of steps in, the other turns around again, holding out his palm.

“Wait.”

Jimin stops in his tracks and watches as Taehyung walks a bit further, putting his palm to the bark of a certain tree, before glancing up the hill, his posture tense. 

Ah, that must be the spot. 

When their surroundings remain still, he looks at Jimin again. 

“Now come here.” 

Jimin swallows nervously, his heart racing. Carefully, he sets one foot in front of the other. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps.

And then he’s right in front of Taehyung. 

The other looks up the hill again. 

Nothing. 

When he turns, Jimin is taken aback by the small smile on his lips. 

“Good,” he says. “Now let’s go.” 

Relief floods Jimin and he turns to look at Namjoon and Yoongi below him with a smile. Both smile back, but it’s tight-lipped and nervous. 

It’ll be fine, Jimin thinks. You’ll see. 

Deep inside he knows that, first and foremost, he’s trying to assure himself. 

Taehyung guides Jimin up the steep hill on quick feet, with the grace of a dragon, his steps sure and steady on the uneven terrain. Jimin, on the other hand, struggles to keep up. 

By now they are so far up, that the others have been swallowed by the dense foliage behind them. The hill gets steeper and steeper, the path between the trees more and more narrow, and Jimin is tripping over roots, slipping on moss covered rocks and stumbling more times than he can count. By now, his jeans are covered in dirt. 

Taehyung’s annoyance is palpable, but he doesn’t utter a word of complaint. Instead, he extends his hand to help Jimin up every time he falls, steadies him with a strong grip around his arm, or points out areas where he has to be careful. 

And then he stops. 

Immediately, Jimin knows, this is where he has to continue alone. 

When their eyes meet, the look in Taehyung’s is hard, filled with a determination that Jimin wishes he could feel right now. Instead of determined, he’s nervous, worried and unsure. 

“It’s most likely the first cave you come across. The biggest one. Don’t go in, you won’t be able to handle the magic in there. Wait in front of it. Give him time. Let him come to you.”

Jimin nods. They’ve been over this countless times before they started their journey here. Don’t set foot in his cave, since humans can’t handle the magic. Just wait outside. Don’t startle him, let him come to you. He should shift back to his human form right away once he recognizes you.

A test of patience and trust.

Jimin buries his teeth in his lower lip. 

“What if he doesn’t shift back?” He whispers, glancing up at the hilltop but the trees are too dense to see the summit. 

“Then he will attack.” 

Jimin nods. They’ve been over this too. If Taehyung is wrong and Jungkook will, for some reason, not recognize Jimin and not shift back, he’ll most likely burn him to the ground right away. That was the part where he could tell Namjoon and Yoongi were this close to begging him on their knees not to go. 

But he has to do this. He has to try.

It’s all or nothing. 

If this works, Jungkook will live.

If it doesn’t work, they will both die. Jimin from Jungkook’s fire, and Jungkook from the dragon Elders’ executing him.

He drops his head and chuckles emptily. How tragic that would be. 

“Well, wish me luck,” he mumbles. 

“Good luck,” Taehyung says, surprisingly softly. 

When Jimin steps past him, he catches him by his wrist. 

“Jimin—” When Jimin turns around to look at him, he’s met with an expression of something deep and honest. “Thank you,” the other whispers, before dropping his gaze to the ground. “Whatever happens—thank you.” 

Jimin tries to smile, but all his muscles are so tense that even that seems strenuous. 

“Of course— It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” 

Again, he says it more to assure himself. 

The steeper and more rugged his path gets, the more and more Jimin struggles. His legs are aching, beads of sweat forming on his brow and in his nape, running down his back, his t-shirt sticking to his skin, his breathing growing more and more labored. 

Maybe, it also has to do with the fact that he's getting more and more into his head, being all alone now. 

The forest around him seems to close in, the towering trees swallowing the sunlight almost entirely, the thorns in the thicket getting caught on the fabric of his clothes, scraping his skin. He’s exhausted, but he moves on, determined to reach the top and face whatever awaits him there.  

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of struggling through the dense woods, Jimin reaches a wide plateau near the hill’s summit. A vast expanse of sandy ground, fallow and dead, the surface blackened with ashes and soot. It smells overwhelmingly of fire. 

He brushes the dirt off his knees before standing up tall, wind tousling his hair as he lifts his gaze. 

At the sight in front of him, his heart leaps into his throat.

A deep opening yawns in the hillside, a dark void, stretching wide like a jagged mouth, the rocky edges scorched by flames. 

A cave. 

Jimin tries to even out his ragged breathing.

This must be it. 

Another gust of wind tousles his hair, goosebumps crawling across his sweaty skin.

The darkness of the cave seems never ending and doesn’t give away what’s going on inside, but something about it seems— it seems alive. Something is lurking in there, something that has Jimin’s feet pinned to the ground, unable to move. 

What now?

Let him come to you. 

Jimin glances around. Everything on the vast plateau seems dead. All trees burnt to the ground, the sun beating down upon him mercilessly like this, heating up his skin. He spots a boulder not far from him that must’ve survived the scorching fire which obviously raged here at some point and slowly makes his way towards it. The dead ground scrunches under each of his steps and his eyes never leave the dark void as he moves, his heart pounding in his chest. It lies completely still, but Jimin can’t shake the feeling off that he’s being watched. 

He knows Jungkook is in there. 

An uneasy feeling creeps over him as he sinks down on the boulder, facing the yawning darkness. If Jungkook doesn’t recognize him, if he’s too far gone, if Jimin can’t reach his wounded soul—this will be it. 

He looks up into the blue sky, taking a deep breath before facing the cave’s entrance again.

It’ll be fine, he tries to tell himself, but the doubts keep gnawing at his mind, his clammy fingers curling on the rough surface of the rock he’s sitting on. He wills his bouncing leg to still. Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4…. Breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

Minutes tick by, the silence broken only by the faint rustling of wind sweeping across the burnt remnants around him, Jimin’s eyes never leaving the cave, his gaze unwavering, his muscles tense with anticipation, his heart pounding in fear and—and maybe hope? It’s making him dizzy, but no matter how hard he tries to calm it down, it doesn’t stop. It keeps beating wildly as time stretches on and on and on.

He brings his fingers to his lower arm, digging his nails into the textured skin of his scars nervously.

As minutes turn into hours, the world around him shifts and changes, the sky growing darker, thick clouds gathering above him. 

When the wind picks up, Jimin can’t help but wonder what’s taking Jungkook so long. 

Doubt latches onto his mind, pulling his nerves tight. 

He’s in there, right? Why isn’t he coming out?

The first rumbling of thunder echoes in the distance and Jimin shifts where he’s sitting, a raindrop landing on his naked arm. Then another one. 

He stops scratching his scars.

Soon it’s raining, a gentle drizzle first, then a steady downpour. 

Within only a few minutes Jimin is completely drenched, but he refuses to move from his spot. The rain mixes with the sweat on his skin, which is growing colder and colder, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. He blinks the water from his eyes. 

The cave lies as still and unmoving as before and the doubt inside him grows.

Another rumble echoes through the distance, closer this time. The storm is approaching fast and all the way up here, Jimin is completely at its mercy. Maybe he should climb back down, at least a little bit, to find some cover under the trees until it’s over.

The next crack of thunder has him jump, a lot louder this time. A lot closer. 

Too close. 

Jimin freezes, his eyes fixated on the cave widening, his heart leaping into his throat when he catches a shift in the darkness.

That wasn’t thunder. 

Another deep rumble echoes from the cave’s depths. It vibrates through the earth beneath him, sending a shiver down his spine. He swallows hard.

He can feel it. A presence growing stronger. Drawing closer. 

At the first flash of gold, Jimin’s fight or flight mode kicks in. He leaps to his feet, without even realizing it, before he forces himself to stand still again on unsteady legs, his knees trembling.

The sound of scales scraping over the rough structure of rocks has his skin crawl, another low rumble shaking the ground as Jungkook slowly emerges. 

Jimin’s heart skips a beat. 

“Jungkook,” he whispers. 

The dragon is a lot bigger than he remembered. So big that he barely fits through the opening, his wings tucked in, his massive head lowered. But not in a way of submission or caution, more in a predatory way, as if he’s on a hunting stalk, as if he’s ready to pounce any moment, his emerald eyes fixated on Jimin, his teeth bared, razor sharp. 

Jimin’s hands ball into trembling fists on either side of him, panic clutching his chest. 

Shit. He’s not recognizing him, is he?

“Jungkook,” he repeats, louder this time, trying to stand his ground. “It’s me. Jimin.” 

Jungkook stalks closer, his movements slow and deliberate, each step sending tremors through the plateau, his claws scraping against the rocky ground. The heavy rain rolls off his golden scales without leaving a trace, his tail, with those massive spikes, dragging behind him. As he draws nearer, Jimin can feel the raw heat coming from that huge body, bared fangs glinting in the rain, that piercing gaze remaining locked onto Jimin, unwavering, burning into him, pupils narrow and pulled tight.

Jimin feels dizzy and sick, on the verge of panic. 

He’s not recognizing him.

At another growl, a small sob makes its way up his throat. 

“Jungkook, please–” 

The dragon’s nostrils flare and then the growling stops as he comes to a halt. 

By now, his massive body has made it out of the cave completely, his wings slowly unfurling as he keeps sniffing loudly, the sound mixing with the heavy rain, his hot breath fanning over Jimin’s skin as he lowers his head further. 

His pupils dilate and he takes another step forward, more careful this time. 

Fear mixes with relief, a lump forming in Jimin’s throat when the dragon blinks slowly, as if—confused?

For a while, they just stand there in the heavy rain, looking at each other, completely still, as if they’re both afraid to move. 

Jimin is the first to do so, even though he knows it’s reckless. 

It’ll be fine.

With trembling fingers and a pounding heart, he musters the courage to reach out, extending his hand towards the massive snout. For a moment it hovers there, hesitantly, before he takes a tiny step forward, drawing closer. 

Jungkook’s breath is hot on his palms and his heart skips a beat when the dragon leans in too and Jimin’s fingers brush against golden scales, each of them hot and smooth to the touch, like polished metal.

Something in his chest clenches, his eyes stinging, and then the rain mixes with streams of tears running down his cheeks. 

“Do you remember me?” He whispers wetly. 

A tremor goes through Jungkook’s body, followed by a loud huff. 

And then everything happens all at once. 

The only warning Jimin gets is Jungkook’s pupils contracting. Then the dragon rears up on his hind legs, his huge form towering over Jimin, nearly blocking out the entire sky above, making him stumble back. Jungkook’s jaws part, a deafening roar erupting, shaking the ground beneath them, the force sending shockwaves through the air, rattling Jimin to the core and he loses his balance, landing in the mud. 

Before he can react any further, Jungkook’s wings unfurl fully and with one powerful push of his hind legs he launches himself into the stormy sky, golden scales glistening in the rain. In only a matter of seconds he becomes a mere speck against the dark clouds until he completely disappears. 

Jimin grabs his shirt with muddy fingers, right where his heart is pounding in his chest. Bewildered, he stares after Jungkook, blinking the rain from his eyes. 

What happened?

He gets to his feet slowly, his entire body shaking with tremors of lingering shock. He sways where he’s standing. 

This isn’t good, is it? Jungkook was supposed to shift back immediately when recognizing him, and he was recognizing him, wasn’t he? To Jimin, it seemed like-

A loud crack of thunder has him jump, the deafening sound followed by lightning streaking across the sky in white-hot bursts of energy. The wind picks up even more, rain lashing his face and arms like icy needles. 

Suddenly, it smells weird. Kind of— of chlorine and burning plastic. A tingling sensation rolls over Jimin’s skin, the air around him crackling with static charge. 

It takes only a heartbeat for him to realize that lightning is about to strike him.

Panic sets in. In a chaotic frenzy of rain and thunder and slippery mud he blindly stumbles towards the gaping mouth of the cave, each step a blur, his heart pounding in his chest, and just as he jumps inside the opening, the world behind him is lit up in a blinding burst of white that bathes the walls around him in an eerie glow. An explosion shakes the ground, throwing him to his knees. He scrambles further into the cave, tries to make himself small, his palms being scratched in the process. 

Only a second later the world stills and he’s surrounded by darkness. 

His pulse is going wild as he gasps for air, his breathing echoing around him. When he turns to look over his shoulder, he can’t see anything. The rain is so heavy now that it’s obscuring his view like a curtain in front of the cave. 

With jittering limbs, he gets up to his feet, steading himself on the cool surface of the rough wall with one hand, while supporting himself on his knee with the other, trying to catch his breath. 

Holy shit. 

After a while, as his heartbeat slowly settles and his eyes adjust to the darkness, he straightens up. Behind him, the storm is still raging with strong winds and loud thunder, not letting up in the slightest. 

What now? He shouldn’t be here.

Jimin’s eyes dart around nervously as he tries to regain his composure, until his gaze is caught by something in the distance. 

He squints. 

There is a faint, pulsating glow standing out against the distant darkness, a radiant glimmer, like a single star in a night sky. 

Somehow, the longer he looks, the brighter it becomes. 

His fear starts fading away, something calm washing over him as the strange enchanting glow seems to call out to him, beckoning him. As if the light wants to show him the way. 

He takes a cautious step forward, his skin tingling, something soothing washing over him, his worries slipping away. 

Why is he here again?

The glow becomes more distinct, the further he ventures into the cave, driven by curiosity and guided by that captivating beauty, moving without even noticing, completely mesmerized, his footsteps reverberating off the walls. When he rounds a corner, his breath catches in his throat. 

The cave is even deeper than he expected. It expands in front of him like a wide ballroom, black rocks jutting out from the walls, curving and twisting in weird patterns, stalactites hanging like daggers high above him, dripping with moisture, casting shadows in the eerie glow. 

The source of said glow lies right in front of him, nestled within the corner of the cavern. 

A body of water, a shallow lake.

It shimmers beautifully, its water so clear that Jimin can see the minerals and crystals embedded in its bottom, shades of deep cerulean and emerald green mixing with hues of amethyst and sapphire, each of the stones seeming to glow from within. 

Before Jimin knows what he’s doing, he’s standing at the edge of the glowing lake. Slowly, he kneels down to examine it further. Even though the water is still, it seems to pulse with energy, tempting, inviting—

Carefully, he reaches out and dips his fingers into the luminescent pool. A soothing sensation washes over him, seeping into every nerve of his body, washing away the last remnants of tension he held in his muscles. He watches as the magical lake briefly responds to his presence, the glow intensifying where the water is touching his fingers, only for a fleeting moment, before the light settles down again. 

“Who are you?” 

The voice cuts through the eerie silence so suddenly, that Jimin almost loses his balance. His heart leaps into his throat and he jumps to his feet, whirling around. 

Emerald eyes stare him down.

“Jungkook,” he gasps, being pulled back to reality harshly, all the calmness and serenity immediately gone. 

Jungkook’s hair is plastered to his skin in wet strands, rain droplets running down his naked body. 

His—human body. 

Confusion and fear swirl in Jimin’s chest, mingling with relief and happiness that Jungkook has finally shifted back. 

That’s good, right?!

When he takes a step in, the other bares his fangs with a hiss, making him freeze in his movements. 

“Who are you?” Jungkook repeats, his voice hard. 

Jimin swallows nervously. 

“It’s me,” he whispers. “Jimin.” 

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. 

“Jimin is dead.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “I’m not—I’m here, it’s really me!” 

Jungkook hisses at him once more when he takes another step forward.

“Stay back.” 

“Jungkook, please,” Jimin's voice wavers, his eyes burning, his vision blurring. This is not going how it was supposed to. A knot of fear tightens in his throat. Why doesn’t he recognize him? “Please, believe me! I’m alive, it’s—it’s okay, I’m okay.” 

Jungkook’s face twists in anger. 

“Are you a jinn?” He snarls, his clawed fingers flexing dangerously. “How dare you mimic his appearance!” 

“No! Jungkook, it’s really me!” Jimin approaches the other with quick steps, his heart pounding in his chest as he reaches out, trying to bridge the distance between them, but before his fingers can make contact, Jungkook growls, shoving him forcefully. 

Jimin staggers, losing his balance, teetering dangerously close to the edge of that magical lake behind him. 

Before he can plunge into the enchanting water though, a sudden jerk goes through Jungkook’s body.

In a swift and unexpected move, he reaches out and grabs Jimin by his lower arm, preventing him from falling, his grip strong and warm. 

For a heartbeat, time seems to stand still.

Jungkook blinks in confusion as he holds on to Jimin, uncertainty flickering through his eyes, as if he doesn’t understand what just happened. Slowly his gaze wanders to his hand around Jimin’s arm. 

And then his eyes widen, his lips parting with a gasp. 

When Jimin follows his line of sight, he understands why. 

The sight of Jungkook’s hand curling around Jimin’s outstretched arm is almost an exact image of his hand curling around his arm back then. 

Just like back then, when he held onto Jimin before they fell off that cliff, his claws dig into Jimin’s skin. Not as deep this time, not drawing blood, but they rest exactly where Jimin’s scars are – shiny pink remnants of Jungkook’s grasp, still slightly raised. Jungkook stares at them, at how perfectly they fit under his claws. 

And then Jimin watches as realization washes over the other, his chest starting to rise and fall rapidly, his gaze snapping up and locking with Jimin’s, his eyes wide with something akin to panic.

There is a whisper of his name, barely louder than a breath, but Jimin feels the weight of the world lifting from his chest at just that single word. His vision blurs as he smiles.

“Pull me up, Jungkook.” 

Pull me up this time. 

Jungkook’s pupils dilate as he stares at him, panting, his features pale. For a moment, his emerald eyes search Jimin’s face, as if he’s desperate to find—something, and he looks so utterly lost that Jimin’s heart breaks for him. 

You can do it. 

The grip around Jimin’s arm starts trembling, Jungkook’s eyes filling with a wet sheen, his cheeks flushing with color. 

One quick motion and Jimin is pulled in, roughly, colliding with a strong chest.

“Jimin—” Jungkook breathes and stumbles back from the impact, losing his balance and sinking to his knees, taking Jimin down with him.

“Jimin,” he whispers again, pulling him onto his lap, hugging him close. “Jimin—” He drops his forehead to Jimin’s shoulder, his embrace around Jimin’s waist tightening, and Jimin can feel the other’s racing heartbeat against his front, can feel the trembling of his body when he brings his arms around Jungkook’s neck in return.

Within seconds Jungkook’s breathing grows more and more labored, the tremors increasing too, and Jimin realizes that he’s hyperventilating.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” His knees press into the rocky ground uncomfortably when he shifts on Jungkook’s lap, leaning back slightly to grab the other by his face, forcing him to look at him. “I’m here, it’s okay.” 

He brushes wet strands of hair from the other’s eyes before cupping his cheeks, the skin hot under his palms. Jungkook looks at him with wide eyes and brings up his hands to grab Jimin’s wrists, his hold bruising, their faces mere inches apart and he’s still gasping for air. 

“Breathe,” Jimin says, stroking his thumbs over the other’s cheeks. “In and out.” 

He demonstrates it by breathing in slowly, trying to calm his own racing heart too. 

Jungkook follows his example, his trembling lips parting as he takes long and deep breaths until his harsh desperate grip around Jimin’s wrists loosens slightly, his eyes regaining some of their focus. 

“Jimin,” he whispers after a while, his gaze traveling over Jimin’s face before he lets go of his wrists to cup his cheeks instead, mirroring him. Clawed thumbs brushing over his cheek bones, as if to make sure he’s really here and Jimin leans in, touching their foreheads together. He feels Jungkook’s shuddering breath on his lips, watches as emerald eyes flutter shut right in front of him.

“I thought—” Jungkook looks at him again, swallowing visibly. “I thought— You—You fell—I thought I lost you—” 

The reflection of the magical glow in the cave dances around them, making Jungkook’s eyes shimmer even more. 

“You didn’t lose me,” Jimin murmurs and brushes another wet strand of hair behind the other’s ear. “I’m right here—” 

Jungkook’s fingers trail over his cheek gently, wandering over his jaw.

“You’re right here,” he repeats and when Jimin lets his hand glide to the other’s neck, he can feel that his pulse is still beating rapidly under his fingertips, matching the rhythm of his own heart. Their breaths mingle. “You’re here—”

When their lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, Jimin melts into it, his fingers finding their way to Jungkook’s nape, tangling in his damp hair again, pulling him closer, holding on to him while Jungkook’s arms wrap around his waist again, his embrace strong and warm and safe and soothing as their kiss deepens, as their heartbeats slow, the gentle touch of lips and careful brush of tongues making Jimin tear up again. 

“I—I thought I lost you too, you know,” he whispers when they part. “I missed you.”

He tries to blink the tears away, but they start falling when Jungkook plants a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“I missed you, too,” he says softly, his claws running through Jimin’s hair. “So much—”

Jimin’s sobs echo in the cavern, tears of relief and joy and exhaustion wetting Jungkook’s skin while they both cling to each other, wrapping around each other, holding each other close, as if they are afraid the other might vanish if they let go. 

Once he’s started, Jimin doesn’t seem to be able to stop crying for the longest time. He cries for so long that he gets incredibly light-headed and drowsy, his entire body shivering uncontrollably, cold to the bone, his wet clothes sticking to his clammy skin.

His shivers get so bad that Jungkook moves after a while. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he says gently, pressing his lips to Jimin’s cheek once more. “The storm must have passed by now. And this is no place for a human.” 

When they step out of the cave a while later, the sky is still overcast with thick clouds, but at least it has stopped raining. By now, dusk is settling over the area and Jimin is almost shocked how much time must’ve passed while they were in there. Namjoon and Yoongi must be worried sick.

The whole way down the hill, Jungkook carries him on his back. 

Jimin tried to refuse, but Jungkook was having none of it, and Jimin has to admit that like this, they are much faster. He would’ve slipped on the now muddy ground countless times, probably hurt himself in the process too. Being carried like this also has the perks of Jungkook’s heated skin giving off warmth against Jimin’s cold body, still jittering. 

When they reach the bottom, stepping out of the woods, darkness has almost completely settled and Jimin has trouble making out their surroundings. 

There is only one source of light in the area. And he can tell the exact moment Jungkook spots it too. Immediately, he slows down, his shoulders tensing under Jimin’s hold, his breath catching audibly. 

Not far in the distance a small bonfire is burning. And sitting around said bonfire are five people. Five people who are waiting for them. 

One of them jumps to his feet at the sight of them. Then another one. 

“Let me down,” Jimin says. “Go.” 

This time, Jungkook doesn’t object. Carefully, he lowers Jimin to the ground without taking his eyes off the others. And once Jimin is steady on his feet, he takes off, rushing towards the bonfire.

Even though it’s not his reunion, Jimin’s heart is pounding as he watches, his pulse racing for Taehyung, for Seokjin, for Hoseok, and for Jungkook. 

He trails after the other and watches as Taehyung sprints towards his best friend, his arms wide open, meeting Jungkook halfway until they collide in a tight embrace. Taehyung’s laughter fills the night air, laughter that sounds a little bit wet and that soon turns into quiet sobs as he hugs Jungkook tighter. 

Once they part, Hoseok doesn’t waste a moment and pulls Jungkook into a hug too, patting his back.

“Jungkookie—” Jimin hears him whisper. 

By now he’s close enough to see the wetness in Hoseok’s eyes, the trembling smile on Taehyung’s lips and the tears that stream down Seokjin’s face, his shoulders shaking when Jungkook approaches him. He stumbles forward, enveloping Jungkook in a hug.  

“It’s really you,” he sobs. “We thought we lost you forever—The Elders—”

Jimin blinks the blurriness from his own eyes at the sight of Jungkook’s smile, at the sight of overwhelming relief and joy. 

“They won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Jimin.” 

He looks up at Namjoon and Yoongi, who are approaching him, and lets himself be pulled into a hug too.

“Thank God, you’re okay,” Namjoon whispers, squeezing him in his arms.

“You’re ice cold,” Yoongi says, rubbing a spot between Jimin’s shoulder blades. “Let’s get you closer to the fire.”

As they sit down on the ground next to the warm glow of the fire, a jacket being draped over Jimin’s shoulders, the three of them watch silently as Jungkook reunites with the ones who mean so much to him, the ones he missed so dearly and who missed him in turn. They keep hugging and holding each other, and the pain of the past melting away is almost visible, the tears slowly drying, the laughter getting more and more carefree. It’s a joy to watch. 

After a while, Jungkook’s eyes meet Jimin’s over the fire and his smile widens, his canines flashing in the warm glow. He steps up to him, walking right through the burning flames, which part for him as if they are afraid to touch a dragon’s skin.

He extends his hand, looking down at him, his smile growing even bigger. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Jimin catches some type of cold. One of the worst he’s ever had. 

The journey back to Jungkook’s settlement feels like forever and as the hours pass, Jimin’s condition deteriorates rapidly. His limbs are heavy and sore, his head is throbbing with pain, and he’s so tired that he falls asleep on Jungkook’s back several times, only to be woken by cold violent shivers, his teeth clattering.

“We’re almost there,” someone says, rubbing his back. He thinks it’s Namjoon. 

By the time they arrive at the settlement he’s in horrible shape and completely out of it. He’s barely able to make out his surroundings, let alone the words spoken to him.

“Magic poisoning—” The voice is muffled, fading in and out. “—exposed to it for too long—”

“Get the healer—”

“—he’ll be fine—”

Jimin is vaguely aware of soft sheets sticking to his clammy skin as his body fights a battle between feverish heat and bone-deep cold. He’s aware of voices that drift in and out like distant echoes he can’t quite grasp. Sometimes they seem filled with concern, sometimes they speak words of reassurance. Other times, they are murmurs of frustration and debate, arguing over how best to help him.

“Our healers have healed our sicknesses for decades, he’s in good hands.”

“He needs an actual doctor!” 

“Your medicine can’t do anything for him.” 

There are gentle hands that wipe the sweat from his forehead, occasionally a cup is pressed to his lips and he welcomes the cool liquid. 

Mostly, he just sleeps a lot. 

After a while, his body feels less heavy, the pain in his head slowly fading. Every now and then, he's able to blink his eyes open. 

When he finally fully wakes up, he does so abruptly.

He startles awake, feeling disoriented and panicked, his surroundings unfamiliar and foreign. His heart is racing when he tries to sit up, but a gentle hand on his chest pushes him back down.

“It’s okay.” 

He turns his head to find Namjoon sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, a cloth in his hand. Only now he's aware of the damp feeling of water drying on his skin. 

“Joonie,” Jimin croaks, his throat dry. 

The other smiles softly, dipping the cloth into a bowl that’s placed next to the bed before bringing it to Jimin’s forehead again, wiping the cool fabric along his temple. 

“You had us worried there for a bit.” 

Jimin tries to wet his lips, his tongue sticky. “Where is Jungkook?” 

“He’s perfectly fine,” Namjoon says while continuing to wipe his forehead, the touch soothing. “He’s a pretty important guy here. But he’ll be back soon. Now–” He pokes Jimin’s cheek gently. “Can you at least try to look like you’re happy to see me too?” 

Jimin huffs and smiles weakly. “I am happy to see you.”  His eyes flutter shut for a moment, the cool cloth a welcome relief on his heated skin. “How long was I out?” 

“Almost three days.” 

Jimin blinks his eyes open again, turning to look out the window to his right. He’s met with the lush green of rustling leaves outside and the orange glow of the late afternoon sun falling in through the branches.

He frowns, his gaze drifting around the unfamiliar room. 

He’s in a large bed that’s tucked into a corner, surrounded by carved wooden bed posts that hold a canopy of sheer silky fabric. Even though it’s been tied to the sides, it moves in the gentle breeze coming through the large open windows that provide an almost panoramic view of the surrounding forest. 

There are bookshelves, not only filled with ancient looking books and scrolls but also with small artifacts and trinkets, with stones and crystals. Potted plants can be found everywhere, some of them tiny, others growing lushly, either in pots on the floor or from the hanging baskets that are fastened to the wooden ceiling, next to threads of crystals and gemstones, casting mesmerizing patterns of colored light throughout the space. There is a cozy seating area in an alcove in the opposite corner, with cushions and blankets, a small round wooden side table and a cozy looking arm chair. 

It smells good. Earthy and fresh and subtly of wood and— fire. 

"Whose place is this?" 

"Mine."

At the sound of the voice, Jimin’s head whips around.

Of course it is. He should’ve known. 

Jungkook almost fills out the entire doorway, his presence as striking and captivating as the atmosphere in the room, enchanting almost. 

Instead of his usual black attire, right now, he’s dressed in soft earthy tones, the bottom layer of his long silky hair draping over his shoulders, while the top layer is pulled up in a half-updo, revealing the golden jewelry adorning his ears and neck.

Somehow, he looks softer like this, the earthy colors and the golden jewelry bringing out the tan of his skin and the color in his cheeks. 

The softness is gone, however, when his lips stretch into a familiar grin, fangs flashing. 

“Man, you look like shit.” 

Jimin purses his lips and sinks deeper into the pillow. “Wow—thanks,” he huffs.  

Namjoon chuckles. “That’s my cue to leave.” The mattress bounces when he gets to his feet, discarding the wet cloth in its designated bowl before making his way out of the room. “He hasn’t had his medicine yet, it’s on the sideboard,” he says when he passes Jungkook, who just nods, taking a step to the side to let him through. 

Once the door has fallen shut, the dragon approaches the bed with a small smile. Even though he’s barefoot, his strides are loud and purposeful on the wooden floor. 

“Well, first things first—” His clawed fingers fish a small glass phial from the sideboard, filled with dark blueish liquid. “Let’s give our sleeping beauty his medicine, shall we?” 

When he comes to a halt in front of the bed, Jimin takes note of the small polished emeralds hanging from his golden earrings, complementing the green of his eyes. The thick golden rings on his fingers flash in the afternoon light, each of them a unique work of art, holding gemstones in various colors. 

God, Jungkook looks beautiful like this. Shiny, glittery, his skin flawless, his eyes sparkling— He’s graceful. Mesmerizing. It’s hard to look away.

Of course, the other notices his staring and at the small chuckle that follows, Jimin averts his gaze in embarrassment. 

“Sleeping beauty?” He mumbles. “I thought I looked like shit?” 

“Still the prettiest human I’ve ever seen."

Jimin flushes and rolls his eyes.

"What?” Jungkook laughs and the mattress dips when he sits down next to him. “No thanks for the compliment?" 

“Maybe next time when it’s not so obviously a lie. I feel horrible.” 

Jungkook makes an understanding sound. “This will help.” He pulls the cork from the phial with a loud pop. “Can you sit?” 

Jimin shuffles around until he’s half-sitting against the headboard. His limbs are heavy, his head a little drowsy, but at least the overwhelming tiredness is gone for the most part.

With a finger under his chin, Jungkook tips his head back, bringing the phial to his lips and Jimin jerks back, wrinkling his nose, when he’s hit with an unpleasant smell.

“What is that?”

“Something that will help,” Jungkook repeats, pushing the small bottle against his lips again. “Drink up.”

Reluctantly, Jimin opens his lips, letting the liquid slip inside. However, the moment his tongue is touched by its heavy bitterness, his face twists in disgust. His throat constricts and his immediate instinct is to spit it out, but before he can react, Jungkook’s hand comes up to cover his mouth, his warm palm pressing against his lips, ringed fingers digging into his cheek. 

When their eyes meet, there swims something strangely sympathetic in Jungkook’s gaze, as if he knows what Jimin is going through right now. 

“Swallow,” he says softly. 

Jimin takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes and swallows, the bitter liquid sliding down his throat, making him shudder. Jungkook’s hand remains on his mouth until he’s sure that Jimin got the medicine completely down. Once he’s done, Jungkook pulls back and only a moment later, his knuckles slide over Jimin’s cheek gently. 

“Well done.” 

Jimin blinks his eyes open, ignoring the heat that’s spreading in his face, smacking his lips. 

“Ugh,” he scowls. “That’s vile.” 

“I know,” Jungkook chuckles. “The worse it tastes, the better it helps.” 

“Is that so?” 

“That’s what my mother used to say.” 

That has Jimin look up. Jungkook doesn’t seem like he thought much of the statement as he’s corking the now empty phial, but to Jimin it means a lot. Being here, in Jungkook’s space, hearing him talk about his childhood— Being here. In Jungkook’s space. With Jungkook. It makes him overwhelmingly happy. 

“Did they—” He swallows around the bitter taste in his mouth. “Did they leave this here?” He lets his gaze wander over the interior. “Your home. Did they leave it like this all these years?”

Jungkook puts the phial aside and folds his hands in his lap, his eyes traveling around the room too, something soft flickering across his face, a small smile forming on his lips.  

“Yes.” He drops his gaze and the chuckle that leaves his throat sounds somewhat sad. “They did,” he repeats with a whisper, shaking his head as if overwhelmed with his people’s love and loyalty for him. 

Jimin shifts under the sheets. He wants to reach out, there are so many things he wants to say, so many more questions he wants to ask, he wants to hug the other, wants to never let him go. 

But instead, he just sits there a bit awkwardly and a bit overwhelmed too. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” Jungkook suddenly asks, looking at him. “I can draw you one. We can put herbs in it to help your body get its strength back too.” 

Jimin is taken aback by the weirdly—domestic offer. 

“You know how to draw baths?”

Jungkook pauses at the statement, his brows briefly furrowing, before his face relaxes and confusion makes place for an amused laugh.

“You’re getting cheeky, Jimin.” He grins before he slowly leans over him, an arm on either side of Jimin’s torso, palms planted into the pillow. His eyes trail over Jimin’s exposed chest and stomach, down to his waist, where thankfully the blanket is covering up his lower half. His eyes snap back up and he raises a brow. “Don’t forget that you’re in my bed right now.” 

Heat floods Jimin’s cheeks. Well—that’s another thing. What the hell happened while he was out?

“Where did you sleep?”

The other sighs and leans back. “Didn’t really sleep at all.” His eyes find the window next to the bed. “There’s quite a lot to do—Seokjin took the lead while I was gone but now there are many things to organize, things to take care of—” A small frown appears on his face. “There will be a party tonight.”

“A party? To celebrate your return?”

Jungkook chuckles emptily and looks at him. “More or less. We’ll have some—special guests.” 

Jimin can see the tension building in his shoulders. 

“Who?” 

“A little bird told us that the Elders are planning to stop by tonight.” 

Jimin frowns and sits up straight. The ones who wanted to execute Jungkook? Are they here to—finish the job?!

“Why?”

“I’m guessing they wanna see what’s going on. With me—If I’m back to normal.” He looks at Jimin. “They probably want to have a look at you too.” 

Jimin’s heart starts racing. 

“Me?!” The most powerful dragons in the world want to meet him?! “W-Why me? What do they want with me? I’m not-”

“Hey.” Jungkook grabs Jimin by his face, the way his fingers dig into his cheeks not necessarily gentle, but grounding, calming. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.” 

Jimin blinks, his heartbeat slowing down. “Okay—,” he whispers. 

“They are just—some nosy bitches. And they are curious about you.” Jungkook lets his hand sink, resting it in his lap a bit awkwardly. “Never—” There is a short pause that seems out of place. The way he drops his gaze is out of place too, the way he looks at him afterwards somehow unfamiliar. Softly, but determined, almost—it’s almost a look of adoration and Jimin is completely taken aback by it. “Never before did a dragon owe its life to a human.” 

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat.

“You—You don’t owe me your life.” 

“Oh, but I do.” 

“No, you don’t.” He shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I— I owed you. I just—I tried to make things right and-”

He’s interrupted by a hand reaching out for him once more, fingers sliding along his temple and into his hair, tucking some strands behind his ear. 

“You did so much more than make things right, Jimin.” 

Jungkook says it with a tenderness in his voice, with something so gentle in his eyes that Jimin’s stomach starts fluttering. 

“Now–” He startles when the dragon claps his hands together. “Let’s draw you a bath, yeah? You stink of stale magic and medicine.” His eyes travel over Jimin’s half-exposed body and before Jimin can complain about being called stinky, he goes on. “And we gotta get you dressed up. Can’t present you to the Elders like this.”

Jimin snorts. “Need some dolled-up arm candy?” 

“Precisely.” Jungkook winks. “But I was more so referring to the fact that you’re naked.” He leans in with a grin. “And that’s only for my eyes to see.”

This time, the flush travels all the way down to Jimin’s neck and chest. 

Jungkook’s bathroom is dark and idyllic in a strange kind of way, the walls and floor covered in river stones, which are smooth to the touch, each of them carefully chosen and placed, like a beautiful mosaic. Between the gaps, small ferns have taken root, growing in a lush green color, a beautiful contrast to the grayish tones. 

A deep freestanding bathtub is placed in the center of the room, made of stone as well. A large round window right above it offers a view of the sky. It’s cool in the room, not unpleasantly so, but still, Jimin pulls the blanket tighter around his form. More of embarrassment than anything else. The thought of getting all naked, with Jungkook beside him, makes him squirm on his feet, a weird shyness creeping in. 

He jumps when the other comes up next to him, a loud snap echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls. Then there is a faint bubbling noise, before the tub in front of Jimin slowly fills with clear water stemming from no visible source, swirling and flowing gently, in a strange current. 

Jimin gawks. 

“See, I know how to draw baths,” Jungkook grins next to him, before reaching for a wooden tray holding an assortment of herbs. 

“That’s cheating,” Jimin points out as he watches the other sprinkle the dried plants into the warm water with careful precision, their fragrant scents immediately filling the bathroom.

Jungkook just chuckles, setting the tray aside before holding both hands over the water. With a whisper of words that Jimin doesn’t understand, his palms start glowing with blue energy that travels into the bathwater, swirling under the surface, before disappearing completely. When he’s done, Jungkook straightens, crossing his arms as he takes in Jimin’s wrapped up form. 

“Well. Get in.” 

Jimin purses his lips, his cheeks heating up once more. “Turn around first.” 

“Are you serious?” Jungkook’s eyebrows wander up. “I ate your ass before.” 

Jimin splutters, his face positively on fire now, his reaction making Jungkook throw his head back with a laugh before he politely turns around. 

In the end, however, Jimin does let the other help him into the now fully filled bath. He’s a bit embarrassed by the sight of his sickly pale skin against Jungkook’s glowing tan while he lowers himself into the clear water. The fact that it does nothing to cover him up is forgotten immediately when gentle warmth embraces him, the herbs caressing his skin, immediately soothing away the aches he’s been holding in his body. 

Jimin’s eyelids flutter shut with a content sigh and he leans his head back against the edge of the tub, all the tension melting away.

“Like it?”

He blinks his eyes open again. Jungkook is looking down at him from beside the tub with a small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Jimin admits. “It’s a pretty good bath.” 

Jungkook’s smile grows, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“I did well?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You did.” 

The other chuckles, then he turns around and grabs something from the counter, holding it out to Jimin.

“Here.” 

It’s white and rectangular in shape, fitting snugly into Jungkook’s palm.

“What is that?”

The dragon cocks an eyebrow. “Soap. You know—The thing you wash yourself with-”

Jimin snatches it from his hand with wet fingers. “I know what soap is,” he grumbles, sitting up a bit, starting to rub the slippery bar between his palms, creating a satisfying amount of foam. It smells of lavender. “I thought it was another—I don’t know—something magical or whatever.” 

Jungkook snorts. “Nope, just plain old soap.” He grabs a cloth from the counter and kneels next to the bathtub. “Let me help you.”

Jimin wants to object. He really wants to. But the cloth is soft and warm and Jungkook’s fingers apply just the right amount of pressure, easing the tension in his muscles as he glides it along his skin. His neck first, then his shoulder, before gently wiping down his arm. Jimin follows the movement with his eyes, watches goosebumps spread and he knows Jungkook notices it too, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he takes Jimin’s other arm, to wipe that down as well. Until he stops when he reaches the scars. 

Something in the room seems to still when he lets go of the cloth, which sinks down in the water, and caresses Jimin’s arms with his fingers instead, carefully tracing the pink skin where once his claws had been buried. 

His touch is careful and gentle and something tugs in Jimin’s chest.

“I remember everything now,” Jungkook whispers without looking at him, his long hair almost touching the bathwater as he brings Jimin’s arm closer to have a better look. “I don’t know why I—why I forgot—”

“They said it might be because of the transformation,” Jimin says quietly, watching Jungkook’s thumb rubbing circles into his scarred skin, as if he wants to rub them off. “Because it came from a place of trauma.” 

Jungkook nods, not taking his eyes off Jimin’s arm.

“You know—When the antidote didn’t seem to work—When I went through all that pain again and woke up in their car, still weak, still without my magic—for a moment—” He shakes his head lightly. “For a moment, when I woke up, I wished I wouldn’t have. For a moment I wished I would’ve just—died.” He lifts his gaze to look at Jimin, the emerald of his eyes deep. “And then I saw you.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches as he swallows against the forming knot in his throat.

“That’s when I knew I had to keep going. I wanted to keep going, at least to save you. I thought—” He drops his gaze to Jimin’s arm again. “I thought if I couldn’t go back home, I at least—” His fingers slide over Jimin’s scars all the way down to his wrist, pressing against the spot where Jimin’s pulse is beating. “At least I had to keep you alive.” 

“And you did,” Jimin whispers. “You saved my life back there. You jumped after me.” 

Jungkook nods slowly, with a small frown on his face. “I didn’t know I would transform. I wasn’t—” His frown deepens. “In hindsight there were signs that the antidote did work. That I could feel some magic. I just didn’t realize it back then, I—I had no idea—” His fangs dig into his lower lip as he blinks. “I was a coward, Jimin. When I jumped after you, I didn’t do it to save your life—” He looks at Jimin again, his grip around his wrist tightening, his voice merely a whisper at what he says next. “I did it because I wanted to die with you.” 

Jimin is at a loss for words and his sight blurs as he reaches out to cup the other’s cheek, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone in a manner that he hopes conveys what he’s feeling. Pain and sorrow and happiness and guilt and—and love. 

“I was so angry at myself.” Jungkook leans into Jimin’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “I wanted to die with you and yet I survived. I finally felt magic again, I felt my people, I knew where my home was—but you were gone and suddenly nothing made sense anymore.” Their eyes meet again and Jimin’s breath is taken away by the guilt swimming in Jungkook’s. “And in reality I just left you behind.” He chuckles hollowly, an empty and tired sound. “I just left. You must’ve been so scared.” 

Jimin shakes his head, caressing Jungkook’s cheek. 

“Just a little bit—Really, it wasn’t that bad. I was thankful that I was still alive and that you were finally free. I was—I was a bit scared but I was also happy—” 

“Still,” Jungkook puts his own hand over Jimin’s, turning his head to press his lips to his palm. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Jimin’s skin. “I’m so sorry and so—so grateful that you came back for me.” 

“Of course I did.”

Jungkook looks at him. “You didn’t have to.” 

“But—But I wanted to.” 

Jimin feels a small smile quirky against his palm, followed by a deep shuddering inhale. There is some wetness in the corners of Jungkook’s eyes, a moment of deep vulnerability that Jimin can tell the other is embarrassed by. So Jimin does the first thing he can think of. 

He leans in and gently but firmly pulls Jungkook into a hug. 

Only when their bodies come together and he feels soft fabric against his naked skin does he remember that he’s wet and that he will ruin the other’s clothes, but still, he wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck, holding him close. Jungkook’s arms encircle him without hesitation, holding on to him tightly, as if he’s seeking support. 

Their embrace speaks of reassurance, of forgiveness, of the promise of healing and a better future. Although Jimin has no idea what that future might look like. Would a future together even be possible? With how different they are. With that horrible past they share.

He blinks away the tears that threaten to fall and buries the doubts. 

He’ll think about all that another time. 

Most important right now is that they are safe. And that Jungkook is free. 

The clearing behind the tree houses is already crowded when Jimin and Jungkook arrive, the mood merry, everyone drinking and laughing. 

Even though it’s nighttime, the area is cast in a warm glow, the trees around them richly decorated with shimmering lanterns and delicate crystals, bonfires flickering and crackling all around, providing cozy gathering places. Their warm light casts dancing shadows among the people who sit on log benches or just on the ground around them. 

A whole banquet is laid out on long wooden tables, from roasted vegetables drizzled in honey and skewers of tender meat to delicate pastries filled with wild berries. The air smells of wine, white and red, served in golden cups. 

A raised mound of earth serves as a natural stage for musicians to play instruments Jimin has never seen before, the melodies enchanting, blending seamlessly with the sounds of the rustling forest around them and people’s laughter. 

He catches sight of Yoongi standing directly beside the stage, watching the performance in awe, nodding every now and then as someone next to him, an elderly man, seems to explain to him what those instruments are. 

Jimin’s eyes wander around the clearing and it doesn’t take long for him to find Namjoon too. He’s sitting on a log, surrounded by children, whose eyes are all filled with wonder and curiosity as they listen to him talk. Jimin wonders what kind of story he’s telling them. 

The children’s parents are standing not far off, watching the scene with caution. Even though Namjoon and Yoongi had almost three days more than Jimin to get familiar with the people here, they receive the same looks Jimin does. Looks that range from apprehension, maybe even fear, over slight worry and uncertainty, to shy curiosity. Some have apparently warmed up to them, like the children and that man talking to Yoongi, others are obviously keeping their distance. 

Jimin can’t blame them. After all, even though they brought him back, they were also part of the group of humans who captured their leader all those years ago to begin with. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is openly stared at with awe. Every now and then someone comes over to give him a hug or a pat on the back, others just smile and wave at him shily from a distance. Some of the kids, who are probably too young to remember his time as the tribe’s leader, gawk at him as if he’s a figure of legend. Here, he most likely is.  

They come to a halt when they are approached by three young dragons, two boys and a girl, maybe in their late teens, their eyes fixated on Jungkook with looks of adoration and respect.

“Jungkook, sir,” the girl begins, wringing her hands, eyes cast to the ground. “We know—you told us not to repay you and the debt we owe you is immeasurable anyway, but— still it would be an honor if you would accept our gift.”

She glances at one of the boys next to her, who holds out both of his palms, presenting something to Jungkook that looks like a pin with intricate carvings. At first glance Jimin thinks it’s made of silver, before he notices that the silver color shimmers in an iridescent sapphire-blue when hit with light. 

“It’s a brooch crafted from our scales. One of each, melted together. We infused it with blessings and protection—” 

“It’s a symbol of our appreciation and gratitude,” the other boy whispers, not meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “We would be deeply honored if you would accept it.”

Realization washes over Jimin. These are the kids, the ‘younglings’ as Jungkook called them, whom Jungkook followed into the human world back then. Which ultimately led to his capture. 

He watches from the side as the corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch slightly, the expression on his face one of fondness. It’s an expression Jimin has seen before. Jungkook wore the same look when he held that little bird in his hand, back then, in that park. Even though that moment seems terribly far away to Jimin, still, Jungkook’s gentle smile from that day has never left his mind. 

“I accept it,” Jungkook says, reaching out to take the brooch from the boy’s palms, trailing his clawed thumb over the carvings. “It’s beautiful-” He smiles “Thank you.” Then he turns to Jimin, his eyes gleaming. “Put it on me?” 

Jimin is taken aback by the request and feels his cheeks flush up with a weird type of nervousness when the dragons’ eyes land on him. 

“Of course,” he mumbles. 

The brooch weighs surprisingly heavy in his hand and it’s warm between his fingers when he fastens it on the fabric of Jungkook’s collar, almost pricking his thumb. When he’s done, Jungkook keeps looking at him as if he’s waiting for something. 

“It suits you,” Jimin says with a small smile before turning to the dragons. “It’s really pretty.” 

They bow their heads shily and after exchanging a couple more words with Jungkook, who’s obviously making an effort to ease some of their tension, without any success, they say their goodbyes. 

Before they finally continue their path across the grounds, Jungkook turns to him again.

“Stay by my side,” he murmurs, his eyes wandering over the darkness that lies behind the trees. “They’ll be here soon.” 

Tension creeps up Jimin’s neck at the thought of the most powerful dragons approaching them right now and he strolls closely behind the Zelkath in silence.

“Jungkook!” 

Taehyung waves at them from beside one of the fires. Next to him, Hoseok and Seokjin are already seated on the ground, nursing their wine. 

On their way over, Jungkook grabs a cup from a tray that’s offered to him with a smile, passing it to Jimin before getting one for himself. After Taehyung shouting Jungkook’s name, Jimin feels even more eyes on him and the dragons they pass bow their heads to Jungkook politely, before they ogle Jimin shamelessly. Every now and then, someone sends him a shy smile. He tries his best to smile back, but nervousness has his lips trembling and he takes a long swig from the sweet alcohol to ease his nerves, almost getting it all over his clothes as he stumbles on the uneven ground.

When Jungkook laid out his clothes for him earlier, among them brown leather boots and a flowy earth-toned robe, embroidered with intricate patterns featuring tiny red gems along the seams, Jimin didn’t know how to wear them. Jungkook couldn’t stop laughing at him for an awfully long time, before finally helping him tie the robe correctly. Beneath the robe Jimin is wearing a simple set of tunic and trousers, a pendant with a prominent red gemstone hanging around his neck, dangling from a leather cord. 

“It’s infused with dragon fire,” Jungkook explained when he caught Jimin staring at the red hues in awe. 

Right now, Jimin can feel its warmth where it’s resting against his chest, even through the layers of fabric. 

“I can sense them already,” Taehyung mumbles when they’ve reached them, joining them in sitting down beside the fire. 

“Me too. They’re probably waiting around because they know it puts us on edge—” Jungkook grumbles into his cup. “Fucking assholes.” 

Seokjin throws him a warning look. “Be careful, they can probably hear you.”

“I don’t give a shit.” 

Indeed, while the festivities seem jolly at first glance, Jimin can tell that there is a lingering sense of tension in the air, the dragons throwing careful glances into the general direction of the woods behind the stage, some of them visibly moving closer to their bonfire, as if seeking Jungkook’s protection. They are collectively waiting for something—someone to arrive. 

Jimin, of course, can’t feel or see anything. To him there is nothing but darkness between the trees in the distance and the only thing he feels is the warmth of the pendant against his chest and the warmth of the alcohol in his veins. It loosens the tension a little bit, makes him scoot closer to Jungkook, not necessarily in an attempt to feel more protected but just to be—closer. His heart skips a ridiculously happy beat, when the other puts an arm around his shoulder. 

It’s when the laughter and music gradually die down that his heartbeat picks back up. 

Soon, the clearing has fallen into an eerie stillness, all heads turned towards the spot in the woods. Every rustle of leaves, every cracking of fire builds the tension inside Jimin, Jungkook’s hand on his shoulder slowly turning into a vice-like grip too, his jaw set as he stares into the distance. 

Suddenly, Namjoon and Yoongi are next to him and the overall nervousness in the atmosphere is almost palpable when a flash of white catches Jimin’s eyes. 

He squints. Another flash. 

And then three figures emerge from the depths of the woods. 

Jungkook gets to his feet slowly, followed by everyone else. He snaps his fingers and immediately, all children are ushered to the back. Jimin too rises to a stand and doesn’t complain when Jungkook pushes him behind his broad body protectively. 

He peeks around the other’s shoulder, his heart thundering in his throat, and is surprised when he catches sight of three women approaching them in ethereal grace, almost as if they are floating above the forest floor. Their appearance is striking, with white hair that gleams like moonlight, their skin radiating a pale glow. They’re a vision of beauty that’s both enchanting and unsettling. 

Somehow, Jimin imagined something else when the dragons were talking about their ‘Elders’. 

However, the moment their eyes land on them, glowing red with slits for pupils, burning into them like dragon fire, fear crawls up his spine like a centipede, making him shudder. Jungkook looks at him over his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers, throwing him a reassuring smile that’s a bit tight around the edges, before turning around again. 

“Zelkath.” One of the women steps up to them while the other two stay back, her voice ringing across the clearing, melodious, yet with an unmistakable edge. There is a shift in the air, everyone tensing even more at their leader being addressed. 

Jungkook lifts his chin. “Your Highness.” 

“What a charming gathering you’ve arranged here,” she purrs, her lips curving into a smile that shows off a set of sharp teeth. Her gaze sweeps over the clearing, briefly pausing when she locks eyes with Jimin, who immediately looks to the ground. 

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, his voice tight. “I don’t remember inviting you, though.” 

She giggles, her pale fingers tucking long hair behind her ear. 

“We couldn’t resist the allure of such festivities.” Her tone is smooth as silk yet laced with an undercurrent of something ominous. “After all, it’s not every day that such a special occasion is celebrated. We were so glad when we heard that you’re fully back.” 

Jimin hears Jungkook scoff. 

“No need to lie, Your Highness. I’m well aware that you intended to get rid of me.”

She smiles sweetly, her red eyes flashing. 

“Merely precautionary measures, I’m sure you understand.”  

“I do. But as you can see, I’m all fine now.” Jimin sees his fingers twitch. “So I’m asking you to move on and leave me and my people alone. I’m sure there are places where your presence is needed more urgently, no?” 

“I will be the one to ascertain whether you still pose any danger,” she says before holding out her slender hand. “Let me see.” 

There is a murmur going through the crowd as everyone exchanges worried glances, some dragons hissing under their breaths. Jimin looks back and forth between them all. What’s happening? He turns to Taehyung next to him, who is staring at the Elder with fury in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working. What’s going on?

Reluctantly, Jungkook takes a step forward, slowly placing his hand in the Elder’s waiting palm. 

At the first touch of their hands, the Elder’s glowing red eyes fall shut. Only a heartbeat later a sharp gasp escapes from Jungkook’s throat, followed by a pained groan as he sinks to his knees. 

“Jungkook–” Jimin rushes forward, but Taehyung holds him back by extending his arm, blocking his way. He’s still glaring at the Elder in front of them.

“What is she doing?!” 

“Invading the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind,” he mumbles. 

A tremor goes through Jungkook’s body, his breath coming ragged, a vein in his neck pulsing, his hand that’s not trapped in the other’s hold curling on the ground below, claws digging into the earth. The process of her invading his mind must be excruciating, the longer it goes on the heavier his gasps get, the louder his strained groans of pain. Soon, Jimin can’t bear to watch anymore and turns his head to look away, meeting Namjoon’s eyes briefly, who looks just as concerned.

“That’s enough,” Taehyung suddenly says next to him and to Jimin’s surprise the pained groans die down.

When he returns his gaze to the scene in front of him, Jungkook’s hand slips from the Elder’s hold and he slumps down completely, his forehead pressing against the ground as he gasps for air. This time, both Taehyung and Jimin rush forward.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks as they both try to help Jungkook up, who nods weakly. 

When they get him into a sitting position, Jimin looks up and almost shrinks back when he’s met with glowing red eyes framed by pale lashes right upon him. The Elder regards him for a moment, before she reaches out for him.

“Give me your hand, child.” 

With a loud hiss Jungkook moves in front of Jimin, whose blood runs cold.

“You are not going to touch him,” he hisses. “You saw everything you needed to see. Now leave.” 

“But I’m so curious,” she says, bringing her other hand up to her chest. “Those lovely feelings of yours—” Her eyes meet Jimin’s again. “I wonder what his side of things looks like.” 

A low rumble, coming from deep within Jungkook’s chest, rolls over the clearing like thunder. He rises to his feet slowly, his presence imposing, shielding Jimin from any potential harm, who remains seated on the ground, his throat tight with fear. 

“He’s no dragon and not under your law,” Jungkook growls. “You know he couldn’t take your touch. Leave.” 

Her eyes dart back and forth between them, the intensity of her red gaze making Jimin’s skin crawl, She seems to notice his discomfort and her lips twitch in amusement before she lets her hand sink with a theatrical sigh. 

“Very well—” 

She turns around to the other two, who have been watching without any type of emotion showing on their faces, her robe flowing behind her when she moves towards them. 

“Let’s leave, sisters.” She casts a look over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on Jimin for a moment before she meets eyes with Jungkook. “There’s nothing to do here for us.” 

A collective sense of relief washes over the clearing and everyone bows their heads in a tense type of respect when the three women make their way back towards the woods, their departure just as graceful and magical as their arrival. 

Only when their white hair has faded into the shadows of the forest and they have completely vanished from view, the tension that has gripped the clearing fully eases. 

It’s silent for a while, everyone still frozen in place. Only when Jungkook snaps his fingers, motioning for the musicians to resume the show, and the first chimes ring across the area, the chatter, the dancing, and the drinking slowly starts up again. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, turning to Jimin and helping him to his feet. 

“Am I—Are you okay?!” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s hand to examine it. Not a single trace reminds of the Elder’s touch. “She hurt you!” 

“A little bit,” Jungkook pulls his hand back with a sniff. “At least they’re out of our hair for now.” 

“For now?” 

He scoffs. “They will always be in our business. They are in everyone’s business, it’s annoying as fuck. But—” He sighs and shrugs. “They are needed. They keep the balance.” 

“Here, brother.” Taehyung appears next to them with a drink, which Jungkook takes and empties in one go, some of the red wine dribbling down his chin.

“Thanks,” he breathes afterwards, putting the empty cup on a tray that someone walks past with. “Now,” he grins down at Jimin with a twinkle in his eyes. “Let’s get the party started, shall we?” 

The party continues in full swing, everyone is celebrating and dancing with each other, the entire clearing a blur of glittering colors and soft glows. Jimin’s cheeks are hot from the wine he drank, a pleasant buzz coursing through his body. He’s watched the performances on the stage and has talked to Yoongi and Namjoon for a while— Now he’s sitting on a bench a bit apart from the commotion, watching Jungkook lounging with his friends around the fire, laughing and sharing drinks. Jimin notices he’s drinking the sweet wine, rather than the bitter kind. There is a flush in his cheeks and an overall glow to his appearance. He’s joyful. He’s happy. Because he’s finally where he belongs. He’s finally home.

And Jimin is happy for him.

Yet, somehow, there is a bittersweet feeling creeping up inside him, the sight flooding him with an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. 

This feels—This feels like the end. 

This might be where Jungkook belongs but it’s not where Jimin belongs. 

He’s human. And Jungkook is not.

Dark thoughts creep into his mind like heavy shadows and suddenly, he feels the overpowering need for space.

Slowly, he retreats to Jungkook’s treehouse, making sure that nobody catches him leaving. 

He’s a bit dizzy with wine as he climbs up the stairs, his fingers clutching the railing and when he steps into the house, he makes his way to Jungkook’s bedroom right away, from which the panoramic windows offer a clear view of the festivities going on below, only obstructed by a few branches covered in leaves. 

Here, the music is still reaching him, although a lot quieter, mixing with the sound of cicadas chirping. It smells of summer night and a little bit of fire.

Jimin sighs.

He can’t shake it off. The feeling that this is it. 

It’s a new beginning. But a new beginning means something else has to end. 

So is this their end? His and Jungkook’s. 

Here, amidst the dragons, here, in this magical place, he becomes jarringly aware of how different they are. Is this where their paths will diverge? 

He doesn’t turn around when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs, knows who it is when the door to the bedroom opens and closes, before someone approaches him.

Jungkook smells of bonfire and sweet wine, and when he steps up behind Jimin, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him against his chest, Jimin melts into the warmth. The sensation of Jungkook’s lips gliding along the side of his neck sends a gentle shiver down his spine, and he tilts his head to give the other more room. 

“Tired?” Jungkook mumbles against his skin, pressing his lips to a spot below Jimin’s ear. 

Jimin shakes his head. “Just a bit overwhelmed,” he admits quietly. 

“Why?” Jungkook asks softly. 

It takes a while for Jimin, still wrapped in the other’s warm embrace, to find the courage to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m just wondering if—if this is the end.” 

Jungkook doesn’t ask him to clarify. Jimin knows that he knows what Jimin is talking about. His arms tighten around him as he places more tender and affectionate kisses along his neck, soft lingering touches of lips, accompanied by gentle smacks. 

Then he turns Jimin around in his embrace and when they come face to face his hand finds Jimin’s cheek, his thumb caressing his skin. Like this, nothing but moonlight illuminates his features, his lips slightly open, his emerald gaze glowing in an eerily beautiful way, searching for something in Jimin’s. 

“Do you want it to be?” He asks, the touch of his hand soft on Jimin’s cheek. “Do you want it to be the end?” 

Jimin swallows around the lump in his throat and shakes his head. 

“No.” 

That’s not at all what he wants. 

“Me neither,” Jungkook says, leaning in.

When their lips touch, they do so gently. Jungkook’s mouth is soft and hot and he tastes of wine and Jimin pulls him closer by his neck, parts his lips to let the other’s tongue slip between them. They melt into each other, the gentle smacks of their mouths mixing with the faint music in the distance and then with their breathing growing louder as they keep kissing and kissing and kissing—

Their movements get a bit clumsy when Jimin is maneuvered around and pushed backwards until he collides with the edge of Jungkook’s bed. They sink down on the mattress and without breaking the kiss, Jimin lies back in the pillows, parting his legs for Jungkook to slide between them. 

Once they are settled, Jungkook’s weight heavy on top of him, their kiss slows down a bit and Jimin gets lost in it, gets lost in the feeling of Jungkook’s fingers wandering under his clothes and over his skin, tracing his side gently. His breath hitches when a claw scrapes over his nipple, the sharp sensation making his belly clench. 

When they undress each other, they do so slowly and carefully, removing piece after piece of clothing while they cover each other’s skin with gentle kisses, caressing each other’s necks and arms. Jungkook bites into Jimin’s lower lip and Jimin runs his fingers through Jungkook’s silky hair, loosens the hair tie carefully, pulls him closer before sliding his hands to his pecs, thumbing his nipples. Jungkook sighs in pleasure, grinds his hips down, and Jimin’s whole body tingles. 

When he’s about to unclasp his heavy necklace, not wanting it to get all sweaty, Jungkook stops him with a gentle hold around his wrist.

“Leave it on,” he whispers, tracing Jimin’s skin around the fiery red pendant. “It suits you.” 

It doesn’t take long for both of them to be rock hard. By the time they are completely undressed, their cocks are sliding together as their hips grind in slow lazy movements. Jungkook’s skin is so hot against Jimin’s that it feels like they’re both burning up and Jimin wouldn’t want anything more than that. Burning together with Jungkook. 

When the other pushes himself up until he’s kneeling between Jimin’s legs, it almost comes like instinct to Jimin to pull his knees up and spread his legs more. The action earns him a satisfied purr from Jungkook, which keeps tingling in his stomach even after the sound has long died down. Jungkook grabs his legs to hold him open, sliding his lips over the side of his calf, nipping the inside of his knee. 

“I’ll perform some magic on you to get you ready,” he mumbles against Jimin’s skin, his breath hot. “Is that okay with you?” 

Jimin’s toes curl. “What kind of magic?” He whispers. 

“Something harmless, just to stretch you and lube you up. I could eat you out but—” Jungkook looks at him from the corner of his eyes, his lips quirking into a grin against Jimin’s leg. “I’m a bit impatient right now.” 

Even though the revelation leaves Jimin breathless, he smiles, running his hands over his front, down to his cock, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a slow gentle tug. Jungkook’s pupils contract at the sight.

“Desperate?” Jimin chuckles. 

“For you? You have no idea how much,” Jungkook breathes. 

From the way his tip glistens with precum in the cool moonlight Jimin does have an idea, but he doesn’t voice that thought. Instead, he revels in the way Jungkook’s eyes follow his hands as he lets them wander back up his stomach, all the way to his nipples, squeezing them gently. When his back arches at the feeling, the hot puff of breath against his leg makes it feel even better. 

“Okay,” he says, his hands finding the pillow on either side of him, finger curling in the fabric, holding on. “Do it.” 

His muscles lock when Jungkook’s reaches between his legs, pressing a finger against Jimin’s rim, his heartbeat picking up.  

“Don’t worry, it’s not gonna hurt,” Jungkook says, applying more pressure and Jimin’s hole contracts under his fingertip. 

A low whisper in a foreign language is all the warning he gets. The sudden warm tingling sensation of magic washing through him right there has his eyes widen with a gasp and he slaps his hand in front of his mouth to keep the startled shout from slipping out. His back arches when the tingling spreads inside him, making his toes curl. 

Once the strange sensation has subsided and Jungkook lowers his legs down, he feels stretched and wet and awfully empty. 

“God—”

Jungkook meets his eyes with a grin. “Not quite,” he says before leaning in, pressing his mouth to Jimin’s ear. “But you can call me whatever you like when I’m buried in that cute ass of yours.” 

“And when is that gonna be?” Jimin huffs and slaps his palms against the other’s pecs. “You’re taking too long. Lie down.” 

Jungkook pulls back and arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m gonna ride you.” Jimin slaps his chest again. “Move.”  

Jungkook chuckles. “And I thought I was impatient.” 

Jimin ignores the quip and pushes himself up on shaky arms while the other rolls into the pillows beside him, looking at him expectantly when Jimin throws his leg over his hips, straddling him. Jungkook’s hands find his waist right away guiding him a bit backwards until he hovers right over his cock. 

His hole contracts at the thought of being filled by it and he doesn’t waste any time. He reaches behind, his hand finding Jungkook’s length, guiding it to his rim. At the first hot press of skin against skin his breath catches in his throat and he watches Jungkook lick his lips, his eyes flashing, his fingers curling into Jimin’s waist. 

Anticipation makes the air feel heavy and loaded as they stare at each other, pausing, and suddenly, the outside noises start filtering back in. The rustling of leaves, the music, the sound of people laughing in the distance. Jimin turns his head to look out the window, watching the bonfires burning, the people sitting around it. 

Shame fills his cheeks with flaming heat but before he can think about it any longer, a loud snap of fingers makes him jump. Only a heartbeat later, the air in front of the windows glimmers in a faint glow, pale, almost invisible.

“Now they can’t see nor hear you,” Jungkook whispers, bringing his hands back to Jimin’s waist, sliding them up his sides and then to his front, trailing over his chest, flicking his nipples. When Jimin looks at him there is a small smile on his lips. 

“Just you and me, Jimin.” He rolls his hips into Jimin’s hand, his hot length gliding through his fingers, pressing against his rim. 

Jimin licks his lips, watches as Jungkook follows the movement. He nods, before taking a deep breath.

And then he slowly sinks down. 

The sensation has his toes curl and he bites his lower lip with a breathless hiccup. His body might be physically prepared, but still it feels weird, having something so big stretch him so easily without at least some fingers preparing him mentally for being filled. The slide is surprisingly pleasant, Jungkook fitting inside him just right, but it’s overwhelming nonetheless. Jimin shudders on top of the other, strong hands keeping him from sinking down too quickly, and he’s thankful for that because soon his vision blurs, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

It’s too much. Emotionally. 

Jimin glances down and sees that the other is just about halfway in. He squeezes his eyes shut, some of the moisture collecting in his lashes before a tiny single drop falls down.

Jungkook reaches out for him, his palm cupping his cheek. 

“Eyes on me,” he orders gently.

It takes a moment for Jimin to be able to comply. It’s a lot more difficult than expected to refocus his gaze. 

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin,” Jungkook whispers, his cheeks dusted red, his eyes glazed over with something that takes Jimin’s breath away. “So pretty and doing so well. Taking me so beautifully—” 

His words give Jimin what he needs to relax. He leans into Jungkook’s palm and doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly lowers himself down, allowing the rest of Jungkook inside. Finally, his ass meets Jungkook’s pelvis and he releases a shuddering breath, his hands searching for purchase on Jungkook's stomach. 

“Well done, sweetheart.” 

Jimin’s tummy flutters at the term of endearment and he sighs when a thumb brushes the wetness from the corner of his eye before Jungkook brings his hands to his waist again.

“Take your time.”

It’s what he says but Jimin can see the strain in his jaw, can feel the flexing of his fingers, can feel his cock throb inside and his thighs shift beneath him. Telltale signs of how hard it is for him to hold back. He lets the overwhelming sensation of someone – of Jungkook – wanting him so much settle in his belly, lets the goosebumps travel down his arms and spine, embraces the feeling of being desired, and of desiring in turn. 

He’s so fucking full.

Slowly, he brings his hands to his waist, resting them right on top of Jungkook’s, before he puts all the strength he has left into his thighs and slowly starts rolling his hips. 

The breathless moan tumbling from Jungkook’s lips makes his heart beat faster and he bites his lips in an attempt to keep silent when the other’s hands slide to his butt, grabbing him harshly, guiding his hips, his grip almost bruising where fingers dig into plump flesh. 

Jimin grinds his hips, circling them slowly in a way that feels the best to him, low moans and little gasps falling from both their mouths when Jungkook starts rolling his hips in the tiniest motion too to meet Jimin’s, grinding into his prostate in the process, making Jimin shudder with breathless gasps on top, heat spreading throughout his body. 

He feels so soft and so good, for a moment he forgets everything. Where they are and about the party going on outside— All there is are Jungkook’s hands on him, Jungkook inside him, and the ever-growing heat.

His vision blurs and he leans forward to brace himself, lifting his hips slowly, letting Jungkook slip out until only the tip remains inside, before slowly sinking back down. 

Jungkook’s jaw clenches with a strangled moan, his hands on Jimin’s ass flexing, the rings he’s still wearing digging into Jimin’s skin. Like this, lying in the pillows, his black hair fanning around him, the jewelry in his ears glinting in the low light, he looks nothing but ethereal. 

Jimin repeats the movement, the hot drag of Jungkook’s length inside him sending shocks of pleasure through his body, pulling him tighter and tighter and soon, he’s not able to keep his hips moving in a controlled rhythm anymore. 

He lifts himself up before sinking back down quicker and quicker, up and down, again and again, pleasure shooting through him at every drag over his prostate. When ringed fingers find their way around his cock he slaps his hand in front of his mouth to stifle the embarrassing mewl from escaping his throat. 

“Don’t”, Jungkook breathes, his other hand coming up to pull Jimin’s away, intertwining their fingers. “Let me hear you.” 

Jimin whines under his breath, his hips speeding up as he keeps fucking himself on Jungkook’s cock while fucking into his fist at the same time. By now, a slow burn is starting up in his thighs, but he ignores it, just as he ignores the sweat collecting in his hairline. His heart is racing and he can barely breathe with how full he feels, with how his lower tummy tightens, the burning tension so hot that it’s too much but also not enough. More— He needs more. 

“Please—” 

His arms give out and he collapses forward against Jungkook’s chest, pressing his face into his neck.

“Please,” he whimpers against his throat. 

Jungkook doesn’t need him to clarify. He brings his hands around Jimin, grabbing his ass, his solid presence against Jimin somehow reassuring, before he plants his feet into the mattress for leverage and fucks up into Jimin with quick snaps of hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the room.  

Jimin cries out against Jungkook’s neck, his hands searching for hold on the other’s shoulders, his cock, trapped between their bodies, rubbing up and down along solid abs, the sensation making his toes curl. He whimpers, presses his face closer, until he feels the rapid beat of Jungkook’s pulse thrum against his lips. 

He focuses on it, gets lost in it, growing aware of the accompanying beat of Jungkook’s heart against his chest too, right where the pendant of his necklace is nestled snugly between their bodies. The red gem – hot, infused with dragon fire – pulsates between them in the rhythm of their combined heartbeats. 

The connection has Jimin’s eyes well with tears, the sudden realization hitting him that Jungkook is alive. 

He’s alive and he’s here with him. They are together. 

Jimin sobs into Jungkook’s neck, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, by joy, by relief, and by the feeling of their hearts beating as one. 

Jungkook’s arms come around his back, caging him in, his thrust turning sloppy.

“Jimin—” He gasps, sounding just as overwhelmed as Jimin’s feels, pressing his lips into Jimin’s hair, planting a kiss against his temple. 

With each thrust Jimin’s cock slips up and down between them, wet with precum, and he’s so hot, so overwhelmed, tries to get even closer to Jungkook, pushes his ass back to take him even deeper. 

The sensation of Jungkook’s hand sliding up between his shoulder blades and grabbing his hair at the back of his head has Jimin’s toes curl. Fingers tangle in the strands, yanking his head back.

“Jimin,” Jungkook moans, burying his face in Jimin’s neck with a deep inhale. “Jimin—” A hot tongue glides over his skin, teeth nipping at his pulse point. “My Jimin—”

Maybe it’s the words, maybe it’s the breathlessness of his voice, or the desire in his tone, maybe it’s the way his hold tightens around Jimin and in his hair, maybe it’s the heat of his body, the heat of his mouth, of his tongue, of his cock—Whatever it is, the sudden explosive rush of pleasure has Jimin shudder, the tension growing unbearable, a feeling so intense that he’s sure he’s going to lose his mind. He’s clenching, quivering, throbbing, tightening— 

His breath catches when Jungkook’s teeth latch onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder, the hold in his hair tightening, pulling his neck more to the side.

The only warning he gets is a small sob. A sound he’s never heard from Jungkook before. 

And then he feels the piercing pain of fangs sinking into his neck.

It fucking hurts. 

In the most perfect way.

All of Jimin’s muscles lock and he keens, his heart racing violently, and then he arches when his orgasm rushes through him. 

It’s searing hot and blinding, it’s overwhelming and loud in his head, surging into every limb, into every nerve. 

He hears his own cries mixing with Jungkook’s deep moans and then the other turns them around with one fluid motion, his muscles shifting under Jimin’s hands, his teeth still buried in Jimin’s neck when he starts pounding into him with desperate snaps of hips once Jimin’s back has hit the mattress. 

Jimin wraps his legs around him, the drag of Jungkook’s cock inside him prolonging his orgasm, making him come and come and come, making a mess between the two of them, reducing him to a whimpering mess, and then, finally, Jungkook shudders above him too, his cock throbbing inside Jimin as he moans into his skin. 

Aftershocks of his own orgasm are still wrecking Jimin’s body when he feels the heat of Jungkook’s cum filling him up. The wet spot where Jungkook’s teeth are still buried in his neck is throbbing in the rhythm of his heartbeat and only slowly he comes down from his high. 

For Jungkook it seems to take even longer. He’s trembling above Jimin, holding on to him tightly, his hips still pressing into him as deep as he can go, his open-mouthed breaths hot against Jimin’s neck.

When his bite finally loosens, Jimin hisses at the feeling of fangs withdrawing from his flesh. Immediately, Jungkook laps at the wound with a deep humming sound coming from within his chest, almost like a soothing purr. After a while he pulls back, coming face to face with Jimin, his cheeks flushed, and Jimin immediately captures his red and swollen lips with his own when Jungkook leans in. 

Their kiss is deep and soft and the girth of Jungkook remains hard inside him, Jimin’s legs twitching where they are still wrapped around the other as another wave of heat bubbles up in his stomach. Jungkook sighs into their kiss when Jimin clenches around him before he laces their fingers together, pressing Jimin’s hands into the pillow on either side of him and Jimin’s cock throbs at the gentle and grounding gesture. 

After a while, Jungkook starts grinding his hips again. Nothing but slow tiny motions, but enough for Jimin’s heart rate to pick up again after it has just calmed down. He tightens his legs around the other and kisses him deeper.

They keep moving against each other slowly, without any hurry, their kiss deepening, their breathing getting louder and heavier, mixing with the wet sounds of Jungkook’s cum from earlier being pushed in and out of Jimin, the heat inside Jimin’s stomach building and building. The spot where Jungkook bit into his neck earlier pulses with each rapid heartbeat. 

Like this, they work themselves towards the edge bit by bit by bit, slowly, lazily, until it’s too much. 

Jungkook breaks their kiss first, resting his forehead against Jimin’s and something about that has Jimin’s chest flutter.

“Coming—,” the other gasps breathlessly, his voice strained, his grip in their intertwined hands tightening. 

“Yes,” is all Jimin can whisper, being almost there himself. 

The sensation of Jungkook’s brows furrowing against his forehead, of his stuttering breath against his skin, of his cock throbbing has Jimin’s back arch. With a quiet sob he comes the very same moment he feels the heat of Jungkook’s cum inside him. His orgasm washes over him so slowly and intensely that for a heartbeat he’s unable to breath. He trembles under the other, his vision going white, his toes curling, his cock pulsing between them with a steady stream of cum.

When it’s over, they breathe heavily against each other’s lips, their foreheads still pressed together, their hands still tightly intertwined and Jimin loses all track of time. He doesn’t know how long it takes for them to calm down but it seems like an eternity has passed when Jungkook’s hands trail down Jimin’s sides and then to his legs, which are still tightly wrapped around him, grabbing him to gently spread them apart so he’s able to pull out slowly. After one final kiss, he rolls off of Jimin, flopping into the mattress beside him. 

Slowly, the sounds of the party outside filter in again, pulling Jimin back to reality. He stares at the canopy above and suddenly, he feels a little empty, a little cold, and very messy. He doesn’t have much time to think about it though, because immediately Jungkook’s warm touch is there, his knuckles stroking over Jimin’s cheek, wandering down his neck and to his collarbone, where he starts toying with the necklace. 

“You alright?”

Jimin nods, before turning on his side to fully face the other. Jungkook’s features glow in the soft moonlight, his emerald eyes shining, their gaze unwavering as he takes Jimin in shamelessly, just as Jimin does with him. He’s beautiful, his head resting on his bent arm, a strand of long silky hair falling over his face. 

Jimin is just about to reach out to push it behind his ear, to touch his flawless skin, to trace the shape of those cheekbones, when Jungkook catches him by his wrist, twisting his arm gently to show off the soft skin with the pink scars. In the moonlight, they look silvery almost. Jungkook’s dark lashes flutter as he rubs his thumb over them, before bringing Jimin’s arm to his lips, his mouth tracing the marks gently, the touch warm and soft. He plants a kiss right against the biggest one, before letting Jimin’s arm sink, scooting even closer, caressing his cheekbone instead.

“We have magic that could get rid of those—” He doesn’t look him in the eyes when he says it. 

Jimin shakes head. “I don’t want to get rid of them.” 

This time, the other lifts his gaze, looking somewhat surprised. “Why not?” 

“Why would I?” 

“They didn’t heal well.”

“I know.” Jimin smiles. “Do you think they’re ugly?”

Jungkook frowns deeply and there is a moment of silence. Then he shakes his head, his jaw clenching as if he has trouble forming the next words. 

“No, but—they are my fault.”

Now it’s Jimin's turn to frown. “They are not your fault.” 

“My claws caused them.” 

“Yes, but—” Jimin shakes his head. “Technically you might’ve been the cause but it was not your fault. I don’t see it like that. To me, they’re more like—they’re a reminder.”

“Of what?”

Jimin worries his lower lip.

“Of you holding on to me,” he finally whispers. 

For a while Jungkook just looks at him, with an expression so soft that it’s almost disarming. Then brings his hand to Jimin’s jaw, trailing his fingers from his earlobe down to his chin. 

“I want to ask you something,” he mumbles. “When you came here—Did you do it just because you felt guilty? Or because you felt like you owed me?” 

“No,” Jimin immediately says. 

“Why did you?”

“Because—” Jimin trails off. 

Because he didn’t want to lose Jungkook. Because he didn’t want him to suffer. Because he did feel guilty, because he did feel like he owed him. Because all he ever wanted—

“I wanted you to be free.” 

Their eyes meet and Jimin wonders why the smile on Jungkook’s lips seems so sad. 

“You didn’t have to. You had no obligation.” When Jimin inhales to say something he’s quick to go on. “You don’t have to make up for all the damage your father caused in the world.” 

Jimin shrugs. He’s been told that by Namjoon so many times. Over and over again. But it’s hard to accept. It’s hard to stop feeling like this. Remorseful. Ashamed. 

“I guess I know that,” he lies. 

Jungkook sighs. “Jimin-”

“You had no obligation either,” Jimin interrupts him. “To hold on to me, to try and save me from that cliff even though you could’ve just left and been free.”

Jungkook scoffs, a wry smile on his lips. “And what kind of freedom would that have been?”

Jimin frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“Letting you fall to save myself— I don’t know if I would’ve been able to—” He trails off, his brows furrowing briefly, before his eyes slightly widen in understanding. 

“To live with yourself afterwards?” Jimin asks and flicks Jungkook’s nose. “See?” 

The other scowls. “It’s different.” 

“How so?”

“I don’t know.” He swats at Jimin’s hand but grabs it to intertwine their fingers before Jimin can pull away completely. “It just is.” 

Jimin chuckles. Then he brings their interwoven hands up to his neck, adjusting his grip to press Jungkook’s fingers against the wound from earlier. It stings. 

“What is this?” He whispers, even though he knows what it is. He has read up about dragons a lot in the past. Still, he’s completely taken aback when Jungkook flushes in a deep scarlet color. 

“It’s—It was in the heat of the moment.” The other tries to pull his hand away, but Jimin doesn’t let him. “Don’t worry, bites like these— they don’t work with humans.” 

“The heat of the moment?”

“Yeah.”

“So—let’s say, theoretically, if these kinds of bites would work, would you—not want it?”

Jungkook frowns deeply and for a moment, insecurity makes Jimin’s skin crawl. But then he remembers Taehyung’s words. He fucking loves you.  

“I mean—Zelkaths aren’t—I’m technically not allowed to mate,” Jungkook stammers, his eyes flicking back and forth between the bite mark and Jimin’s face. Jimin has never seen him so out of his depth.

“But if you would be.” 

“It wouldn’t work with a human.”

“But if it would.”

The other stares at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. 

“What are you asking, Jimin?” 

The question hangs heavy in the air and now it’s Jimin who feels his cheeks and nape flush with heat. Suddenly, he feels vulnerable, as if he’s turned inside out, his innermost parts visible for the other, his heart laid bare. 

“I guess I’m asking if you want to stay with me,” he says, his voice raw.  

Nervousness makes his heart beat faster. This time, when Jungkook tries to pull away from the bite mark, he lets him. Lets him press his fingers against the spot where his pulse is hammering in his throat instead. 

“I already told you that I don’t want this to be the end,” the other says and then his hand wanders to Jimin’s nape, pulling him closer until their foreheads are touching. “You set me free. But I want you to be free too.” 

Even in the dim light the tiny golden sprinkles in his emerald eyes are visible. There is something uncertain in his expression.

Jimin frowns. “Me?” 

“Think about it—What life have you lived so far? Trapped in that house, and then trapped behind a fake persona.” Only now that Jungkook is speaking does Jimin recognize the look of uncertainty in his eyes as concern. “I don’t want you to be—well—trapped with me next.”

The laugh that flies out Jimin’s throat is quiet and hollow and he’s surprised himself how tired it sounds.

“That fake persona—It’s something I won’t ever be able to get rid of. My past is something I can never get rid of. And it’s something I can never share with anyone. With most people I can never be Jimin.”

He puts his hand on top of Jungkook’s. 

“But with you I can. You know about all my mistakes, you know about all the horrible things I did, about the ugliness that my life used to be—” Jungkook’s lips part as if he wants to interject but Jimin shakes his head and goes on. “You think I would be trapped with you? I think you’re one of the few who would give me the opportunity to be myself. To be free.” 

Time seems to stand still. For a moment Jungkook just looks at him, the deep frown still there, but then – slowly – his furrowed brow eases, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There is a subtle relaxation in his posture, Jimin can feel it against him more than see it, right before fingers tangle in his hair and he’s pulled in for a kiss.

A kiss that speaks of unspoken feelings. 

A gentle connection. A spark of emotions. A silent promise. 

Jimin feels himself relax too. 

I’m standing at the edge. Not yet, not yet.

The sea lies surprisingly still. As if it’s holding its breath. 

Jimin’s eyes are fixated on it from where he’s standing on the shore, taking in the way the rising morning sun reflects in the water in warm hues of orange and soft pink, promising another hot day. Seagulls glide in the sky above him, their calls merging with the gentle lapping of the waves against the rocks. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the saltiness of the air settle on his tongue, feeling the breeze on his skin and in his hair, soaking in this rare moment of peace.

At the sound of footsteps approaching him across the rocky beach he turns around. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Tae,” he exclaims. “You’re already back?” 

The other smiles, his white shirt fluttering in the wind. 

“Yep.” He steps up to Jimin and they hug briefly in greeting. “It went better than expected.” 

Jimin’s hand curls around the other’s lower arm, his heart skipping a hopeful beat.

“So it worked?” 

Taehyung’s smile widens. “Hit her with our first shot.” 

Relief floods Jimin and he laughs, pulling the dragon into another hug.

That's amazing news. 

It was their third attempt at injecting Pearl with the antidote. She’s skittish, even for a unicorn exceptionally fast and agile, and was able to outrun them twice, rendering their missions unsuccessful. Jimin was nervous when Taehyung’s team set out a couple of days ago for the third time, equipped with new gear and a new plan. To be honest, he didn’t think they would make it. So this is a nice surprise. 

“Gosh, what a relief,” he breathes when they part, putting his hand on his beating heart. “Did it take effect immediately?” 

That’s the best thing about the newest antidote Namjoon created. It works within only a couple of seconds. No side effects.

The other nods. 

“Yes, we felt her powers coming back right away. Two of us stayed behind to monitor her, just in case, but I think she’s all good. I’ll call them back in a day or two.”

Jimin hums in agreement before turning to look at the vast body of water again. The sun has risen higher and is warming his skin already.  

A good start to the day.

Now he hopes for the rest of the day to go just as well.

“I’m glad I could be back in time,” Taehyung mumbles, following Jimin’s line of sight, his eyes narrowing as they wander over the gentle waves. “I don’t trust them.” 

Jimin worries his lower lip. He also wonders if this is just the calm before the storm. 

“Anything from Namjoon and Yoongi?” The other asks. 

Jimin nods. “They located presumably four or five pixies in a public aviary not far from here and two goblins in a residence in Europe.” 

“Public aviary?!”

Jimin huffs. “Yeah—”

“Any plans on how to get them out?” 

“The pixies shouldn’t be an issue, they are small and won’t cause a stir. And they’ll find their way back on their own. The goblins—” Jimin sighs heavily. “I’d rather get them out of the human world before injecting them with the antidote, they’d create major chaos if we’d set them free right there.” 

“I’m guessing the residence is highly protected?”

“That’s what Yoongi is currently trying to find out. He’ll probably have to travel there first to check out the location before we can start anything.” 

Taehyung nods in understanding. 

“Jimin!” 

They both turn around at the sudden shout of his name. Jungkook waves at them from the top of the sand dune behind them. 

“We spotted them! They’re over here!” 

Jimin and Taehyung exchange quick glances before they make their way across rocks and driftwood and then up the small hill, where Jungkook is waiting for them. When they reach him, he grabs Jimin’s hand and helps him up the steep final bit. 

“They are already waiting for us.” He nods towards a small bay between the cliffs, his expression hard, his posture tense. He has a sword strapped across his back, the golden hilt glinting above his shoulder. Jimin knows he’s nervous. 

“It’ll be fine,” he says as he squeezes the other’s upper arm. “She won’t attack me.” 

The muscles in Jungkook’s jaw work. “You don’t know that—” 

It’s true. Jimin doesn’t know that. But he hopes she won’t attack. 

When they descend the dune with quick steps, the air turns cooler, the sun not having reached this part of the beach yet. 

The bay is nestled between two rocky outcrops, sheltering it from the rougher currents of the open sea. The water is crystal clear, allowing glimpses into the world beneath and at the fishtails of the merpeople waiting for them. They shimmer in soft iridescent colors, in shades of blues, greens, reds, and pinks, matching their long hair which appears soft and silky even though wet. 

Jimin's heart starts beating faster, the tension in the atmosphere palpable when the three of them approach, passing a couple of their people, who have their hands curled around the hilts of their swords already, eyes fixated on the merfolk, attentive and alert. 

The merpeople regard them all with suspicion too, their expressions guarded, some hostile even, and they visibly tense when one of the dragons hands Jimin a small silver tray, on which a syringe filled with gold shimmering liquid and alcohol for disinfection are placed. 

Jimin pauses in his steps, the tray kind of heavy in his hold, letting his eyes wander over the crowd, searching for a familiar face, for the familiar turquoise hair and the purple tail. 

When he spots her, he feels his lips break into a smile, his heart skipping a beat. 

She’s already looking at him, her demeanor cautious, her eyes wide as she holds onto the blue-haired mermaid next to her, who – judging from how much they look alike – is most likely her mother. She has an arm wrapped around Kalliope’s waist protectively, glaring at Jimin. When he steps up to the water, followed by Jungkook, her lips curl back with a hiss. 

“Only the human.” 

At the sound of her voice, melodious but razor sharp, echoing off the rock structures around them, both Jimin and Jungkook tense. From the corner of his eyes he sees the movement of Jungkook’s hand wandering to his sword.

“I brought your daughter back to you and you still don’t trust me?”  

“That was years ago,” the mermaid says as she lifts her chin, her tone hard. “Back then you were alone. Now you brought a horde of dragons. Now you’re armed.”

Jungkook snarls. “Because I don’t trust you either, fishwoman. Don’t think I can’t sense the magic of that trident you have hidden down there and that’s ready to be called.” 

The woman sneers and is just about to say something else, when Kalliope starts wriggling in her hold with an excited hitch of breath, the water around her splashing, her eyes glued to Jimin. Her mother is able to hold on to her only for another moment, then she successfully worms herself out of her embrace and makes a beeline for the shore where Jimin is waiting, her fins flapping loudly on the surface.

When Jungkook wants to step in front of him protectively, Jimin holds him back.

“It’s okay. Wait here.”

He can tell the other wants to object, but before he can do so, Jimin is already on his way to the edge of the rock, the final bit of land before it dips down into the clear water of the bay. When he reaches it, Kalliope is already there, grabbling on the rocky structure, trying to pull herself up. After the third attempt she succeeds, resting her upper body on top, her tail hanging down, only the ends of her fins swishing in the water below. 

Jimin crouches down in front of her, careful to keep at least somewhat of a distance as he places the tray with the syringe on the ground beside him. 

“Hi.” He smiles at her. “I see you remember me?” 

She purses her coral lips and gives him a funny look, as if to say ‘Of course I do’, before reaching out for him. The moment her hand curls around his arm, the sharp sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard resonates through the air behind him, followed by immediate hissing sounds coming from the water below, which in turn is answered by more sword being pulled behind Jimin, Taehyung even growling deeply.

Jimin looks over his shoulder. “Jungkook,” he warns and shoots Taehyung a glare too. “Tell everyone to stand down.”

This is not the energy they need for this. 

Jungkook doesn’t take his eyes from the fingers wrapped around Jimin’s arm when he answers, his hold on his sword tightening.

“Get away from her.” 

“It’s fine,” Jimin tries to calm down the situation. “She’s not hurting me.” 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow and he doesn’t step back, but at least he lets his sword sink slowly, the other dragons following suit. 

To Jimin’s relief the collective hissing from the merpeople stops too, and he looks at Kalliope again, who glances back and forth between the blade and Jungkook’s face, clearly confused and concerned. 

“Hey, it's alright,” Jimin tries for the words to be soothing, even though he too feels tense and nervous. This has to work out. “Do you remember him? He helped you back then.”

She blinks at Jungkook, her eyes trailing up and down his form, and slowly her face relaxes. When her gaze finds Jimin’s again, her lips break into an excited smile. She tugs at his arm.

“You want me to get in the water with you?”

She nods.

“Ah, that would be nice—” Jimin sends her an apologetic smile. “But I’m afraid I can’t.” 

Her expression falls, making place for a pout. 

“I’m actually here to help you out with something.” 

She tilts her head curiously. 

“Look,” Jimin grabs the instrument tray. 

When her eyes land on the syringe, her face falls and she shrinks back a little, shaking her head, seeming to remember all the times she was injected with suppressants by this kind of instrument. She probably also remembers that it hurt. The suppressants never went easy on the creature’s bodies. Her grip around his arm tightens. 

“I know,” Jimin quickly puts the tray down again, the metal clanking against the rock. “I know you don’t like these things, but this–” He points at the syringe. “Will give you your voice back.” 

Her lips part in surprise, her eyes widening as they snap back to the syringe. 

“I promise, it won’t hurt. Only a prick and it’ll be over.” 

It was important to him to wait until the antidote worked flawlessly before having someone contact Kalliope’s folk. Seeing her in pain would’ve torn his heart to pieces. It might’ve also started a war between the merfolk and their tribe— So there’s that. 

“You’ll get your voice back right away. Just like that.” He smiles and ignores the tight grip she still has around his arm. Something Jungkook is clearly aware of, judging from the way he shifts on his feet impatiently behind him. 

“What do you say?”

Kalliope turns to look over her shoulder, her turquoise hair shimmering in the sunlight that’s falling over the bay by now, and meets eyes with her mother. The blue-haired mermaid seems tense, a deep frown on her face, but she slowly nods at Kalliope’s unspoken question. Even though Jimin can’t feel any magic like Jungkook does, he too is aware that the merfolk has the means to attack them should anything go wrong. They made it clear from the start that they don’t trust them, but that they are willing to take the risk to get one of their own back to her full powers, to give her back her life.

“You don’t have to,” Jimin reassures her as he notices the uncertainty etched into Kalliope’s face. “Or we can do it another time, if you want to think about it first. Would you prefer that?” 

She worries her lower lip, a small frown creasing between her brows. Then she shakes her head and lets go of Jimin to extend her arm, offering up the pale inner side of it. It sends a pang of guilt through Jimin’s chest that she still remembers exactly where they used to inject her. Yet, an overwhelming sense of relief washes over him. She will be free soon. 

“I promise, you’ll feel so much better afterwards.” 

With quick fingers, he gets an alcohol swab ready, before carefully wiping it over a spot right below the crook of her arm. The splashing sound of water in the background tells him that some of the merpeople are approaching protectively, the answering shuffle of feet behind him putting him on edge. He really wants to pull this off without causing any trouble. 

Deciding to act quickly, to give neither her, nor himself, nor the nervous people around them any time to think, he takes her arm gently, retrieving the syringe from the tray. It’s cold in his hands and he wills his fingers to stop trembling and his heart to calm down. 

As the needle sinks into her flesh, Kalliope grimaces and averts her eyes. 

“Almost done,” Jimin whispers reassuringly and applies pressure on the plunger, injecting the liquid slowly. 

He’s not able to keep his hands from trembling anymore when he pulls the needle out of her arm, his heart hammering in his throat, every nerve in his body pulled tight. He knows it will work. Technically. But there is this always this tiny slither of doubt—

“How are you feeling?” 

She lifts her head, her expression one of confusion and she shrugs before she shakes her head. 

Jimin knows it’s only a matter of seconds—

A heartbeat later a jolt goes through her body as her magic washes through her, she gasps, her pupils contracting. Panic washes over her face and before Jimin can say anything else, she yanks her arm out of his hold, baring her teeth with a raspy hiss, stemming from stiff vocal cords. Then she pushes herself off the rock and plunges into the water below with a loud splash. 

Jimin only fleetingly catches the expression of relief on her mother’s face before she too, with one last look at Jimin and Jungkook, dives under, the others following suit. In a blur of colorful shapes they shoot through the water and into the open sea, led by a turquoise and purple shadow at the front, until they have all disappeared. 

The ground digs into Jimin’s knees harshly as he stares after them, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

It’s not that he expected anything. But he at least would’ve liked the chance to apologize to her, for the role he played in her captivity. Even though he knows she doesn’t owe him that kind of chance, she doesn’t owe him anything— Still, the fear and distrust in her face right before she dove into the waves hurt.

Something heavy settles in his chest, his eyes, still fixated on the now empty expanse of the sea, starting to burn with unshed tears. 

A comforting hand on his shoulder makes him jump slightly. He turns his head slightly without looking at Jungkook.

“I wanted to apologize,” he whispers. 

“I know.” Jungkook gives his shoulder a squeeze. “You did everything you could.” 

Jimin nods, wiping away a tear that’s wetting the corner of his eye. He kind of hates himself for making it about him. This isn’t about him at all. It’s about Kalliope and her journey to freedom. She chose to turn her back on him. She made a choice. With her own free will. That alone is worth celebrating. 

The waves gently lap at the rocks below and Jimin sighs. He hopes she can now find the peace and happiness she deserves. 

When he gets to his feet and turns around, he realizes that Taehyung and the other dragons have already silently departed, leaving him and Jungkook alone on the rocky shore.

The other moves closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“You did what you came here to do,” he says, bringing his hand up to squish Jimin’s cheeks. “You did well, now cheer up.” 

Jimin chuckles and blinks when more tears threaten to fall, before he nods. 

“Let’s go back too.” 

Just when they are about to turn and leave, the silence is shattered by splashing noises and the sound of a foreign voice.

“Jimin.” 

Jimin swivels around and watches as Kalliope approaches them slowly through the water. His heart skips a beat. 

“Kalliope,” he breathes, taking a careful step forward too but freezing when he notices that she’s clearly trying to keep a safe distance.

“I wanted to thank you,” she says, her voice surprisingly soft and clear for someone who hasn’t talked in years. “For curing me.” She sounds beautiful, enchanting almost. Exactly, what a mermaid’s voice should sound like. Enchanting people with their songs is their weapon after all. 

Jungkook’s arm finds its way around his shoulder, heavy and protective, as Jimin shakes his head.

“There’s no need to thank me. I just did what I had to do to make things right.” He swallows hard, his voice wavering. “I’m– I want to apologize to you. For everything we put you through.” He bows his head. “I’m truly sorry,” he whispers. 

“I’m still grateful. Not just for bringing my voice back.” When he looks at her, she touches her fingertips to the hollow of her throat. “But for keeping me company back then. For singing to me. I know you tried to make it better.” 

Jimin nods slightly. “Still—I’m sorry.” 

A small smile plays on her lips and she swims closer. Only a little bit. 

“Maybe one day we can sing together.” 

Jimin feels Jungkook’s arm tense on his shoulder. He can’t blame him. Witnessing a mermaid’s singing is usually a death sentence for a human.

“You know that can’t happen.” He smiles softly. “I’m sorry.” 

She pulls her shoulders up and giggles, the happy sound sending pleasant warmth over Jimin’s skin. 

“I’m afraid you’re right.” 

She sighs, before her face falls slightly. She averts her gaze for a moment and when she looks at him again there is something hard in her expression.

“Don’t come here again,” she says, glancing over her shoulder where her family is most likely waiting for her in the open water. “They would probably kill you.” 

Jimin knows that. Still, it fills him with sadness. This is a final goodbye. 

“Even though you have a strong and powerful boyfriend now,” she adds and casts a glance at Jungkook. 

“Mate,” Jungkook corrects her, puffing out his chest next to Jimin. 

Kalliope’s brows raise in wonder, her eyes slightly widening when they land on the marks on both of their necks. Tattooed. Artificial. A copy of the imprint of teeth they left on each other’s necks on their mating night, replicas of bites, because Jimin’s human nature makes it impossible for them to leave real ones. 

They aren’t really mated, not bound like true mates would be. Nature doesn’t allow them to. 

And still, Jungkook always makes sure everyone knows who he is to Jimin, and who Jimin is to him. He seems proud of it. A fact that makes Jimin overwhelmingly happy.  

Kalliope giggles, with a hand in front of her mouth. 

“That’s cute,” she says and sways in the water. “To be honest— I’m a bit jealous. Jimin is such a beautiful human, isn’t he?” 

She bats her lashes and Jungkook growls, which makes her giggle even more. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any trouble. In fact—” The look on her face turns more serious, but in a soft kind of way. “I have to thank you too. For bringing me back to my family.” 

Jungkook’s growling stops and there is a short moment of silence.

“Of course,” he eventually says and shrugs. “It was the right thing to do.” 

Her smile grows again. “Well, I wish you two all the best.” 

“Thank you,” Jimin leans into Jungkook’s side. “I wish you all the best too.” 

Her eyes twinkle. 

“Farewell, Jimin,” she says softly, before looking at Jungkook again. “Farewell, dragon king.” 

Then she disappears into the waves in a flash of color. This time for good. 

Jimin stares after her for a while, the sun burning down on his naked arms, the sound of seagulls loud above them, and tries to gather his thoughts, tries to sort out his feelings. And Jungkook gives him all the time he needs. 

When they finally turn to leave, walking away from the shore and the world of the merpeople, Jimin feels as light as a feather. He chuckles and looks at Jungkook. 

“Dragon king?”

The other lifts his chin. “Not gonna correct her on that.” 

With a laugh, Jimin pinches his side, happiness making him feel a little giddy. He links his arm with Jungkook’s when they make their way across one of the dunes, his feet sinking into the sand. 

“Hey, how about you fly us home?”  

He comes to a halt when Jungkook stops at his words, eyebrows wandering up, an amused chuckle leaving his lips.

“Taking advantage of Namjoon not being here?” 

Jimin grins. “Exactly.” 

Namjoon hates when Jimin rides on Jungkook’s dragon form, and almost had a heart attack when he first learned about them doing that sometimes. 

“You know he’s gonna find out eventually, right?” Jungkook chuckles. “He always does somehow.”

“That’s because you won’t stop making tasteless jokes about me riding you.”

A sharp grin flashes across Jungkook’s face and he taps a finger under Jimin’s chin, forcing his head up to look at him while leaning in.  

“That’s because I enjoy it so much,” he mumbles, his eyes flickering to Jimin’s lips. “Which reminds me—You haven’t done it in a while.” 

Jimin flushes. “What? Riding on the back of your dragon or—”

Jungkook’s canines flash in the sunlight as his grin widens. 

“Both.” 

His claws trail along Jimin’s jaw when he closes the gap and their lips melt together in a deep kiss. Some strands of hair have come loose from his ponytail, tickling Jimin’s skin in the breeze, and Jimin wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him in, brushing his tongue over the sharp tip of canines. 

“Well—We could change both today,” he whispers after a while, his words muffled by Jungkook’s mouth. 

The other hums, his hands wandering down Jimin’s sides and towards his butt, squeezing it in a way that has Jimin’s breath hitch. 

“I like the way you think,” Jungkook mumbles, before their tongues slide together again. 

Not long after, Jungkook’s majestic golden dragon form lowers itself into the sand in front of Jimin, making it easier for him to climb on his back, settling right behind the neck, in the only spot without spikes. 

His stomach swoops when, with a powerful beat of wings, Jungkook takes off into the sky and they leave the coastal region below them. Jimin holds on to the warm body tightly, pressing his cheek against smooth scales, the wind rushing through his hair, exhilaration coursing through his veins. 

He spots a flash of turquoise and purple in the water below them, gone as soon as it came, maybe he just imagined it. Still, he smiles, closing his eyes briefly, feeling the movement of Jungkook’s body beneath him, listening to the loud huffs of breath and the sound of wings slicing through the air effortlessly. 

They soar over breathtaking landscapes, over the sparkling sea, over rolling hills, over lush forests.  

Everything looks small from here. Tiny and insignificant. 

For a moment, it’s just the two of them. Just Jimin and Jungkook. High above the world. High above all the worries coming with trying to find and heal all the creatures. High above the stress. High above all the uncertainties. 

In moments like these, Jimin feels weightless and boundless. Unburdened. Relieved. 

He feels free. 

Fly away, butterfly.

Epilogue: The Dragon

Everyday, Jungkook watches Jimin go through their files. 

Files that contain long lists of names, some of these names having a certain note written next to them, in bold green letters:

FREE

Everyday, he watches Jimin run his fingertips over the one next to Jungkook’s name, staring at it every time he opens the folder, as if he wants to make sure it’s still there, as if he wants to make sure that Jungkook – or once Specimen 177 – is still free. 

They’ve talked a lot about Jimin’s nightmares. Nightmares in which the letters are gone. In which Jungkook’s gaze is empty, his pupils wide, his movement slow and sluggish. In which Jungkook is weak, lethargic and totally helpless, obeying every command. 

Jungkook knows, on nights like these, when Jimin wakes up crying, he needs him to take the lead more than ever, needs him to show him who’s in charge, show him that he’s not obeying but the one giving commands. 

Sometimes Jungkook thinks Jimin might break under the pressure of trying to find all of them. The frustration, the hopelessness—

The fact that he wants to make things right so badly, the fact that he doesn’t give up no matter how futile some attempts seem, is what Jungkook loves and hates the most about him. He loves that he has such a fierce and dedicated mate. He hates that his mate is working himself to the bone. 

“You should take a break,” Jungkook whispers. “Just for a couple of days.” 

It’s dark inside the tent. This close to the mountain peak, where they will set free a rescued phoenix tomorrow morning, they are surrounded by clouds. Clouds so thick that they don’t let even a slight sliver of moonlight pass. He knows Jimin most likely can’t see a thing right now. He probably can’t even hear the faint snores coming from the other tents around them. He himself however, with his dragon eyes, can see the frown forming on his mate’s face who’s lying cuddled up in his sleeping bag next to him.

“I can’t take a break.” 

“You can. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Seokjin can take the lead for a while.” 

“I don’t want to. I don’t need to.” 

Jungkook sighs. “Come here.” 

He pulls Jimin into his arms, buries his nose in his hair and inhales deeply. Even though it’s been years since Jimin stopped taking the poison, Jungkook still can’t get enough of his natural scent. Jimin smells soft, of something flowery and a little bit of cotton. He smells of comfort. 

“Just for two or three days,” he mumbles, feeling the embrace of Jimin’s arms around him, his small hands curling in his back “I could take you to the lake I grew up at. Finally show you around the area North of the settlement. Just you and me.”

“That sounds nice,” Jimin admits softly. 

Jungkook smiles. “I’d expect you to swim naked of course.” 

“Oh?” He hears Jimin chuckle, his breath hot against his throat. “Isn’t it too cold up North to swim naked?” 

“I can think of activities that would keep us warm.” 

The other snorts and his fingers come up to trail over the tattoo on Jungkook’s neck, knowing exactly where it’s located, even in this blinding darkness. It’s a copy of the imprint Jimin’s teeth left there on their mating night, a replica of his bite, an artificial mating mark because Jimin’s human teeth aren’t capable of leaving an actual one. Jimin is wearing a similar one on his own neck, a replica of Jungkook’s bite. 

To be honest, Jungkook thinks it’s a bit unfair that ink sticks to human skin while mating bites don’t.

“I’m sorry,” he hears the other murmur, as if he was able to read his thoughts. “For not giving you the mated life you probably imagined.” 

Jungkook snorts. “Shut up, Jimin. You know I wouldn’t be allowed a traditional mated life to begin with. You also know I wouldn’t trade this for the world. The most important thing is that you’re happy.” 

“Even though I’m overworking myself sometimes?”

“So you admit it!” 

Jimin laughs. Then it’s silent for a while. 

“I have to go back to the city for a day or two, to sort some things out,” he eventually mumbles into Jungkook’s neck, his breath shuddering when Jungkook trails his claws down his spine. “I wanted to meet up with Viv too. I haven’t seen her at all this year.” 

Jungkook huffs. “She still with that annoying girlfriend of hers?” 

“Her girlfriend isn’t annoying!” 

“So they’re still together?” 

Jimin pinches him. “Do you even care?”

Technically, Jungkook doesn’t. But Jimin cares. And he guesses that’s what makes him care too. 

“I mean—They kinda match. Both irritating as fuck.” 

Jimin laughs and Jungkook’s stomach flutters at the sound. He could listen to it all day. 

“They are still together,” Jimin eventually confirms. 

Jungkook hums. “Good.” He’s surprised that he actually means it. 

Silence settles over them once more, the soft beat of Jimin’s heart against his chest soothing. So soothing, that it almost lulls him to sleep. Until Jimin speaks up again. 

“Afterwards we can go North if you want. But just for a day. I can’t take too much time off.” 

Jungkook’s heart skips an excited beat and he purses his lips. 

“Three days.” 

“One.”

“Two,” he offers.

Jimin clicks his tongue and chuckles. “Fine. Two.” 

Jungkook feels his smile grow bigger, his heart swelling with affection, and he presses his lips into Jimin’s hair, promising silently that he will make those two days special for both of them. 

Jimin deserves it. He deserves all the happiness and joy life has to offer. 

Beautiful selfless Jimin. 

Jimin with his unwavering determination. 

Jimin, who always puts others first. 

Jimin, who has always been kind and compassionate. Even back then. Even when he was a prisoner, just like Jungkook.

Jimin, who set him free. 

And now Jungkook will do anything in his power to help him free all the others. Because once they’ve accomplished that, Jimin will finally be free too. Free of guilt. Free of remorse. Free of regrets. 

And once Jimin is free – for the rest of their lives – Jungkook will show him how to make the most of freedom.