◇ pairing: jimin | reader ◇ genre: fluff, angst ◇ word count: 8.575 ◇ warnings: none ◇ author’s note: this story will have a sequel since there is much, much more I want to tell, but I wanted to keep it under 10k and I figured this part worked well as a standalone. please enjoy :)
You meet Park Jimin after a particularly rough landing.
You wish time traveling was as easy as the books like to describe, or as beautifully romantic as the movies depict. It is a concept that’s been overly embroidered with advantages that do not exist — and even if normal humans see it as a fortuitous skill, one they long to have, they rarely realize that having a normal life is out of the question for your kind. Even so, there is no point in wishing for something that won’t happen in this lifetime, not with the time traveling genes burning strong within your veins.
Citroën 2CV6 “Picasso Citroën”, 2007 (1983) by Andy Saunders. A customised 2CV which takes inspiration from the works of Pablo Picasso, in particular Three Musicians and his portrait of Dora Maar (pictured). Saunder’s is a Dorset based car customiser, he presented the Picasso Citroën at the 2007 Goodwood Festival of Speed
◇ Your sister is the light in the darkness of this world - but what happens when her safety is threatened?
◇ Jungkook x reader
◇ requested by @zhang91yixing; Hey, can I please have a werewolf apocalypse AU with jungkook? Where you’re living with your sister in this town close to the forest and your sister gets kidnapped by this gang and you have to go get her and you clearly got very very good survival skills, so while you venture into the forest to get to her (of course with weapons) you meet jungkook and his pack and *boom* he is your mate but you don’t know it, and u can pick it from there, thank you
◇ sorry this took a while but enjoy! Also im really sorry that i didnt stick with the whole ‘hes ur mate but u dont know’ but it was getting really long (for me lol bc my writing is short as hell) also crappy ending but I’m lowkey proud of the start and middle so
Sometimes you wondered if life was worth living.
In a world where humans were the bottom of the food chain, a world where Alphas reigned and Betas weren’t far behind, you found yourself wishing and praying each day for things to get better.
But there was always light in the darkness, and your candle burned brighter than most.
Your little sister Seyeon was 8 years old. She was small, and beautiful, and she had the most innocent, hopeful view of the world. And although you knew you’d have to teach her the ways of the world someday, you desperately wanted to cling on to the purity thay she still possessed. >
For her, there was no food chain. No inequality. No hurt, no struggle for survival. She understood that times were tough, but she always looked on the bright side; we have food, we have water. We’re not hurt.
She wasn’t old enough to remember what happened just years ago, and she definitely wasn’t old enough to understand how the world really worked.
Werewolves had always existed in the shadows of the humans - for years and years, centuries and centuries upon more centuries, werewolves lived just as humans did, fearing that their identities would be revealed and they’d ultimately be killed.
But soon, enough was enough, and the werewolves revolted with such strength that the humans were easily overpowered. Long before you were born, in the times of your great grandparents, the werewolves overthrew the governments of the world in a war that lasted for 6 years - and then they ruled the world, keeping the population of humans below them and submissive.
From then on, everything was chaos.
The werewolves formed packs and gangs, and reigned control over every town and city there was. Electricity was sparse in rural, human dominated areas after the war - the fighting had destroyed almost everything, including generators, and when they were rebuilt and reconnected, the werewolves didn’t care if you wanted electricity or not. You were humans, after all.
Electricity and fancy, modern cars were only owned by the extremely rich in the cities miles and miles away from here - and you weren’t rich, or living in the city -, so the main source of transportation was either walking or an absolutely ancient pickup truck that broke down every few miles or so.
And family? Well, Seyeon was your only real family. You had no grandparents, no cousins or aunts or uncles. Your dad died shortly before Seyeon was born, and your mother followed shortly after as a result of the medicine that wasn’t easily accessible for humans.
After your parents died you were left to care for a newborn baby at 10 years old - well, with the help of Nancy, the old lady that lived near you. She wasn’t biological family, but she was the closest thing you had to a mother. She taught you how to cook, clean, sew, fight, what plants were edible in the forest, the best spots for clean water, medicines… She was your teacher, and you were her student - but there was one thing she couldn’t teach you, and that was to control your temper.
The ruckus they caused in the middle of the day was unbelievable. They, referring to the young werewolves whose pack ran the area in which you lived in - a tiny, quaint town on the edge of the forest. These boys in particular had formed their own little ‘gang’, and spent their days terrorising the humans that inhabited the run-down town when they were bored.
As if your lives weren’t horrible as it was, you had a group of testosterone fueled hoodlums causing trouble when it was only high noon, in the middle of summer. The sun was hot and cast a heavy, draining weight upon your shoulders, despite the fact that you were inside the small shack you called home.
Their shouts and hollers radiate through the humid air, stirring you from the heat induced sleep that had settled over your body, an eye opening gingerly. What the..?
Realisation floods through you a few seconds later as your mind boots up, and you spot them, all hooting and shoving as they come towards your house from the small wooden porch that you had been sleeping on.
If you were lucky, they’d pass right by you into the woods that were to the right of your house to get back to their pack house. If you weren’t lucky, well…
You watch with eagle-like eyes as they approach, consciously keeping Seyeon’s figure in the corner of your eyes. She had been playing with the rag doll you had made her years ago for her birthday on the steps in front of you, but now she’s holding it close and sitting rigidly, eyes trained below her. She’s trying to ignore them, but you can tell she’s scared.
They soon become aware of your presence, as if they hadn’t sensed you earlier - first, one at the back lets out a long, sarcastic whistle, tapping his friend in front of him and gesturing to you and Seyeon with a movement of his head - and then, they all gradually stop in their tracks, coming closer to the porch. Your hand twitches instinctively, your silver hunting knife just inches away.
“What have we here?” The one who coos sarcastically is familiar. You always see him leading the others around, telling them what to do, who to hit, what to destroy. He’s taller and broader than the rest, too, and by now you’ve guessed that he’s the alphas son. He stops directly in front of Seyeon, and your fingers have fully wrapped around the leather bound handle of your knife.
“That’s a nice doll you have there,” he comments. Seyeon doesn’t say anything, her eyes cast to the dusty ground. You can see from here how her fingers clench and unclench around the thinning fabric of the doll’s stomach nervously.
“You know,” he begins, a sly grin growing on his face as he turns to face his friends who stand and wait a few metres behind him. Your unease grows, especially as he lazily looks over at you - as if he thinks you don’t matter, as if you’re worthless and weak and can’t stop anything from happening. “I think my sister would like it.”
Your jaw clenches, and you restrain every muscle in your body from making you jump out of your chair and slash his face. You continue watching.
The man chuckles, as if hearing your little sister’s heart rate accelerate was funny to him, and Seyeon lets out a distressed yelp as her doll is yanked out of her dainty hands - and that’s it, the last straw has been pulled.
You’re up from your seat before anyone can register it and down the creaky wooden porch steps like a shot, silver knife twisting expertly in your raising hand - and in the blink of an eye, you bring your hand down with force, cutting into the man’s cheek with ease.
A howl of pain and a chorus of enraged shouts are the only things you can hear; suddenly everybody is crowding around you, grabbing at you, pulling and shoving at you—
Somebody is yelling, someone’s grabbed your hair, another hand is grasping your arm roughly, and you’re grunting as you stab at any expanse of flesh you can see — and for a second, all hope seems to be lost. The silver didn’t seem to be doing anything.
Your temper really did get the best of you, you think for a moment — but through the chaos you can hear Seyeon calling your name desperately, tears caught in her throat as she watches helplessly, and suddenly you can feel your knife, still hard and cool in your hand and you find the strength within you to continue to slash and swing and draw blood.
After biting somebody’s arm and elbowing another’s stomach, you shove through the crowd minutes later, stumbling slightly in front of your sister like a shield before turning to them, baring your knife threateningly as they hiss and growl, making threatening, jerky movements towards you — their eyes are trained on the silver knife warily, wounds burning and sizzling like a painful reminder.
The leader lets out a low growl one last time, before he backs away, slowly yet surely, eyes flashing a bright, angry yellow when his travel to meet your own. The rest of his group trail after him, growling and shooting you sharp, dangerous glares as they leave, disappearing behind the thick tree line and leaving you in the eery silence of the moment.
“_____!” Seyeon’s voice is thick with tears, and the anger bubbling up in your stomach completely calms as she winds her small arms around your waist, burying her face into her stomach. “I-I was so scared — I was gunna help b-but you always tell me to stay out of things-”
“It’s okay, Seyeonnie,” you murmur. Your breathing is heavy, and the regret once you realise the consequences of your actions will most likely be severe shoots throughout your body like limb-weakening electricity.
However, you can never let Seyeon know that, so you force yourself to plaster a soft smile on your face, to bend down and pluck Seyeon’s doll from the ground. A hand hangs limply from a thread at its side.
“Ah,” you grumble, holding the doll gently. Seyeon looks up at you with big, watery eyes, and you sigh, petting her head gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll fix her up in no time, Seyeonnie. Promise.”
You give her another truthful smile, leading her back into the safety of your small shack.
Over the next few days, you were glad to say that thwre were no more run-ins with the gang of werewolves — but honestly, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
You’ve been trying to get on with your life, doing all the normal tasks you’d usually do; fetching water in the nearby creek, venturing into the forest to hunt for rabbits or dear, or to gather berries and roots — but you couldn’t deny that you were on edge. Every rustling of grass, every crunch of dry leaves behind you made you inch for your hunting knife.
Nancy scolded you. A lot.
“Ye can’t keep gettin’ angry at them!” She had given out, directly condradicting her anger when she sets a plate of stew in front of you, before she bustles away to the table in the living room to give Seyeon some food. “Yer in trouble now, ye are.”
You had sighed, pushing the food around on the plate. You didn’t feel very hungry. “I know, Nancy. But they were gonna take her doll, an-”
“The doll is less important than yer life!” Nancy hissed, lowering her voice and shooting a glance to where Seyeon was sitting, kicking her feet back and forth and wolfing down her food. “Things are gonna get messy now, girl, they will.”
“I know,” you had murmured, jaw clenching. You set down the silver spoon in your hand, thinking deeply about what you were about to propose. Your head instinctively drifts to Seyeon, who seems to feel your eyes on her and smiles toothily at you. A small, tired smile, and then an exhalation falls passed your lips.
“Nancy,” you begin quietly, pulling her to the furthest corner of the kitchen (just in case). You feel a weight press onto your shoulders, making you want to collapse onto the ground and just sleep for the next hundred years. “I just- If - if something happens—”
Nancy smiles grimly - and you must be imagining it, but her eyes look glassier than usual. “I’ll look after her, child.”
Tears well up in your eyes, the familar burning feeling translating from behind your eyelids to the hard lump in your throat. But you clear your throat, blinking a few thousand times to make the tears disappear and squaring your shoulders again after a few deep, yet quiet, breaths. You had been strong all your life. You weren’t going to break now.
A sigh falls passed your lips. Your fingers were absentmindedly manoeuvring your needle and thread expertly, as if it was as simple as breathing - which, by now, it was. God knows how many times you’ve had to sew up Seyeon’s clothes when she got too rough playing with the other children (the grass stains never came out, but you figured they added charm).
The little girl in question is snoring away quietly across the room, laying comfortably on the mat that you had made years ago from fur and stuffed with dried grass. Just looking at her makes a fond smile push its way to the surface of your face, imagining her expression when she wakes up and finds her doll safe and sound, back to normal and just like it was before the incident.
But then your mind begins to wander, and your mood drops like wax from a burning candle.
You were sure that someone, somewhere, didn’t hate you. Maybe - maybe a child? A baby that hadn’t been influenced by their parents, that hadn’t been influenced to hate you purely because you were human?
The innocent, naive part of you that had been pushed to the very corner of your heart still thinks that maybe things could change. That maybe, one day, the discrimination and racism will come to an end and everyone can live equal, happy lives. Maybe you and Seyeon could move to the city with Nancy and buy one of those fancy cars you had heard about - maybe you’d meet someone and fall in love, just like in the stories your mother used to tell you when you were young…
Your eyes droop tiredly, your mouth open in a small circle and the needle, thread and doll slipping from your grasp as you fall into dreamland.
You wake with a jolt in the early hours of the morning, your surroundings covered in a blanket of darkness. Your arms and legs are stiff from sleeping on the wooden chair and covered with goosebumps from the chilly coldness of your home, and with a confused furrow of your brows, you realise that the window behind you was open.
You groan tiredly, almost tripping over the doll that you had abandoned last night on the ground as you stumble to shut the window. No wonder you had woken up, the window was so far open that it almost touched the outside of your home.
Seyeon must’ve opened it, you think, stretching your arms above your head as you clamber to the warm mat where your sister was sleeping, prepared to drop down and pass out immediately. She always got very warm easily, so she probably woke up and-
Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop once you realise that you’re looking at an empty bed.
The fur covers are thrown to the end of the mat, strewn haphazardly and laying messily across the floor. There’s no sign of her - you call frantically, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your limbs feeling almost weak with worry and anger (at the werewolves who so obviously took her or yourself, you don’t know) and your chest constricted by the invisible snake that was anxiety.
Hands clutching at your head, you collapse onto the chair you had fallen asleep on, pure panic and disbelief fumbling with your thoughts and refusing to let you think straight.
They came through you window - that much was obvious. They lived in the woods that were literally less than a metre from your home, and that window was laughably weak in comparison to the strength werewolves possessed. But despite that fact that you had just reminded yourself of, staying here wasn’t an option. You had to get to them before they hurt Seyeon, no matter the outcome.
And so, you pack. An old leather bag that used to be your father’s is filled with the scarce medical supplies that you have - bandages, Nancy’s famous herbal salve, an antiseptic that was extremely rare around these parts and was one of your mother’s prized possessions. You make sure to slip in a pouch of water and some dried meat, just in case.
(Your hand hesitantly hovers over Seyeons doll that isn’t quite fixed yet, before you place it carefully on top of the rest of the supplies in your bag.)
Your hunting knife along with the various other silver knives you owned were slid into the leather holster on your pants, and a quiver full of your favorite silver-tipped arrows and your bow is slung onto your back.
You know how to track, and you know how to hunt. The problem is speed; they have at least half an hour on you, and that’s a lot for werewolves. So you waste no time; you don’t even have the time to write Nancy a note, because after you’re completely packed you stride out of your front door and sprint into the forest behind your small shack.
You don’t know how long you’ve been travelling; the sky has transitioned to a dusky pink, the sun rising over the mountains that were far east, visible from the tree you had climbed. You scoped your surroundings, taking in the almost eery quietness that came with the morning in the forest.
You had crossed over the creek you normally fetched water from, passed the bushes that beared the berries you picked, and ventured into the unknown that lay behind the patch of plants that Nancy used to make her herbal salve. The trees had grown thicker and thicker, all traces of intelligent life gradually dissipating into thin air.
But still, you continued on. It was cold and your jacket was thing and it’s main purpose was to hold your hunting knife so that it was easily accessible - but you had fire and fury in equal measure, and that fueled you to keep striding on, even when it seemed like you were getting nowhere.
After stopping to have a quick mouthful of water and a piece of dried meat, you had climbed the tree to get a complete grasp of your surroundings. If needed, there were many escape routes and obstacles - you had a gut feeling that you were drawing closer to Seyeon and the tyrants that had kidnapped her, whether it was from the footprints that were pressed into the earth or the strange atmosphere that surrounded the area.
You hop down from the last branch, feet hitting the ground with a solid thump - and that’s when you notice him, because your sudden movement had startled him into jumping back from your belongings.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You growl, eyes trailing over to scope his behaviour. Your hunting knife is already out, the silver threateningly held out towards the boy - man - standing as still as stone in front of you. In your rush of adrenaline fueled anger, you don’t even think to ponder on if he’s human or a werewolf, and you can only imagine the trouble that you’d be in if he turned out to be a werewolf—
The man draws back from your belongings, lifting his hands up in surrender at the sight of the glimmering silver being pointed at him. A werewolf, then. You hope he doesn’t sense the shift in your bravery, the reluctance to fight him setting in. Nevertheless, you inch towards your bags more and more wih every passing minute — until, finally, he’s pressed himself against a tree more than enough metres away from you, and you’ve reached your things. And in that one, measly second that you take your eyes off him, he strikes, and your knife is flung across the small clearing.
A strangled grunt is ripped out of your throat when his full weight collides with you, squashing your arm against the rough tree bark that you both crash into — you scramble away from him to increase the distance, using the seconds that you gained to fumble for your knife and steady it in your hands. You’re nervous, but not for the reason most would expect — with every second that passed, Seyeon was getting further away.
Yells and growls fill the air with every blow that’s exchanged — your knife is cutting searing scratches into his chest, neck and face, his hand is yanking roughly on your hair, and it’s only when you allow the hilt of your knife to bury itself in his shoulder that you realise you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.
A pained howl, crystal clear and strong reverberates through the trees, echoing past the oak you had scaled and stretching through and above the forest until it reached what you could only guess were his pack mates.
You yank the knife out of his shoulder, leaving him heaving heavily and supporting his weight against a tree — not only were his pack mates approaching, but he would heal in a matter of hours and he would definitely be angrier than he was previously.
You can already hear the pounding of paws against the forest floor, your bag clutched in your hand as you sprint through the thick foliage, leaping over fallen branches and logs and manoeuvring around dips and bends in the earth. Your chest is pumping, throat burning with the effort of keeping your breathing up to scale, and you almost (almost) feel tears pricking at your eyes because if you don’t get out of this, what happens to Seyeon?
You see the river that you had taken note of earlier — you could hopefully lose them there, you’re closer to breaking through the cover of the trees, almost there—!
At the last second, just before you’re about to burst past the shade of the trees, a figure steps right in front of you, effectively blocking your path and sending panic and fright straight to your stomach — before you can stop yourself, you’re sent tumbling into the person, knocking you both to the ground in a distorted heap.
And then you’re up again, hand wrapped around your hunting knife so tightly that you fear it may cut into your own skin — but that doesn’t matter right now, because the man that had blocked your path is towering over you now, not even seeming bothered by the silver you wield in your hand.
There’s nowhere to run. You’ve pressed yourself against a tree to get as far away as you could from the man in front of you, and relay your escape routes. The river is too far away, you’d never make it before your head was ripped off — but that doesn’t seem so bad, honestly, when the rest of the pack begin to assemble in a semicircle around you, all beared teeth and clenched jaws, evaluating the amount of trouble in front of them.
“Kill her,” one grumbles. He has raven locks, and looks so unbothered by your existence that you’re almost offended — but you can tell that there’s this - this fury in his eyes that makes your limbs become weak with nerves as you fully recognize the danger you’re in.
The man that you had stabbed in the shoulder steps beside the midnight-headed werewolf, hand pressed into the wound that was closing very, very slowly — so was the effect of silver on werewolves —, wincing slightly as he moves his hand to comfortingly place a hand on his arm. “We have to wait for Jungkook, Yoongi. Calm down.”
Like a switch has been flicked, ‘Yoongi’s’ eyes soften — just enough for you to notice — and he only tosses you an extremely disgusted look before he ushers the man t po behind the pack to check on his injuries. Of course. Yoongi’s the mate of the man that you’d stabbed — which is why he looks like he’s about to shift and tear your head from your shoulders (well, more than the others want to).
You only give that thought a second of your time, though, because pressure is rising in your chest and your breath is getting quicker as you get more desperate to get away from here. Thinking of what those savages could be doing to Seyeon made you feel sick to your stomach, and your eyes unconsciously flicker to the river.
“Don’t even think about it,” another one says, tall and tan and, strangely, pink-haired. Maybe if he wasn’t planning to kill you you could appreciate his handsomeness, but that wasn’t the case. He’s watching you carefully — the growing tremble of your lip, how you reposition the knife in your hand, the erratic beating of your heart.
“She must’ve stabbed him with silver,” Yoongi calls gruffly from behind the group, cursing minutes later. “It’s deep, too — fuck, forget Jungkook—”
And Yoongi pushes his way passed his pack before they can fully register his actions - or be bothered to stop them. You grit your teeth as he storms forward towards you, canines pressing into his bottom lip, and suddenly you’re just extremely fed up.
You had a sister to save — and these boys think that they can just waste your extremely precious time? No, not today.
So you square your shoulders like you had done millions of times before, clenched your jaw, and pulled another knife from your jacket roughly. Yoongi stops in his tracks when he sees what exactly you’re armed with, and you have to hand it to him: he’s not completely stupid. Two silver knives and an angry woman? Not the best combination, in all honesty.
“Take another step and I give you an even deeper wound,” you threaten lowly, scoping Yoongi’s reaction. He stills, eyes completely focused on yours, and it’s only when you threateningly lunge forward slightly that he shrinks back.
The other members are tense now, as still and quiet as the dense forest that surrounds you; the pink-haired one and a broad-shouldered blonde share a look, but before they can act on whatever they had been communicating about, you interrupt them.
“Don’t even think about it,” you repeat the words that had been relayed to you just minutes ago, inhaling deeply. “I’ve beaten up a larger pack with one knife - don’t think I’m afraid to do the same to you with two.”
“You’re making a mistake,” the pink-haired one says slowly, hands raised in surrender. “Our Alpha will be here in seconds and if he sees you threatening us like this, he won’t be happy—”
“Don’t try and reason with her, Namjoon,” a silver-haired werewolf spits, glaring at you. “She’s human. Just wait until Jungkook arrives — he’ll tear her throat out—”
“Let him try,” you bite back, “See if I don’t slit his throat first—”
“I’d ask you what you’re doing on our land, but I think it’s obvious already,” a voice sighs from behind you. As quick as a shot, you whip around, flinging your knife expertly at the source of the sound—
The brunette that stands metres away from you narrowly misses the knife, and it instead buries itself into the bark of the tree that he once stood in front of. He lets out a low whistle, inspecting the knife, but soon turns back to the matter at hand.
“A group from a pack a few miles from here passed by just an hours ago — with a human girl…” He muses, eyes trained on the ground with a smirk painted on his face, as if hearing your heartbeat accelerate at the thought of Seyeon was amusing. He trails slowly towards you and his pack, an aura of power rolling off him in waves, and it’s obvious that he’s the Alpha the rest have been relying on to save them — Jungkook, did they call him?
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
You don’t know why you haven’t thrown your knife into his jugular, like you promised you would — it feels like something is making you hesitate, making your hands feel heavy and your heart even heavier. Whether it’s the hint of information on Seyeon that makes you stop or something else, you don’t know…
He stands now just a few centimetres in front of you, and finally lifts his head to meet your eyes.
Seconds pass, and you’ve almost become insane with the amount of suspense that’s thickened the air, but he doesn’t seem to be progressing. He just… stares, mouth opened in mid speech and pupils dilated — it’s only half a minute later that he seems to break out of his spell, body relaxing from its previous tense state and mouth shutting.
“You want us to take care of her?” Somebody says from behind you, and your hand clenches around the handle of your other knife. In the sheer weirdness of the moment, you had almost forgotten about the matter at hand—
“Don’t lay a hand on her,” Jungkook orders firmly, barely allowing enough time for the sentence to finish. “We’re not doing anything to her.”
Did - did you hear that right?
The others must think the same, because you hear another one of them laugh in disbelief. “She’s a human! She stabbed Taehyung and threatened us — and you, too! We can’t do nothing—!”
“None of you will bring harm to my mate!” His voice booms, echoing throughout the clearing, and you feel your stomach drop to its lowest pits — the atmosphere thickens, and your breath is sucked from your lungs. You can barely register your grip loosening on your knife, and suddenly your eyes are focusing and unfocusing, dizziness pulling at rhe edges of your mind, and you feel the world rushing passed you, and then—
Everything goes black.
When you wake, you almost immediately panic.
Where are you? Since when did you have an actual bed? What happened to the wooden ceiling — the wooden everything? And where was Seyeon—?
Oh God. Oh God, she’s gone. You couldn’t find her — you had fainted… Memories trickle back erratically, not unlike water from the broken water tap back home; you remember the pack that you had stumbled across, you remember being cornered, needing to escape — you remember the Alpha. Jungkook.
You - you had to go. You had to leave, you had to get Seyeon, you had to save her before something happened to her—
“Calm down, love. Calm down…” Your heart rate spikes as a voice appears from seemingly nowhere, but a glance to your left reveals the figure that had crossed your mind just moments ago.
He sits there - Jungkook - dark brown hair flopping over his forehead and onto his tanned skin, over his doe-like eyes. You feel a strange mixture of hatred and affection in your chest, which really makes no sense because you’ve only met him. Immediately, you begin to shake your head, refusing to do what he was telling you because how could you be calm at a time like this?
“No, no, no,” your voice begins quiet, weak, unused for what you can only guess was a few hours, but as the desperation and hysterics set in, you find your voice growing bigger and bigger, trembling with worry as you begin to sit yourself up, “I have to go get her — I have to find her, I have to, I have to—!”
“It’s alright, it’s okay,” you hear him over your cries, trying to soothe you. The next thing you know, his hand is on your arm and he’s trying to push you gently back into bed.
“Get your hands away from me!” Your voice is shrill and not at all happy, and with a hurt look on his face, Jungkook yanks his hand away immediately. You don’t know why his expression affects you so much, but it does; as if realising what you did, you begin to calm slightly.
“I - I need to find her,” you choke out, a feeling of complete defeat hovering over your body. It was all over; you had been out for a good few hours, and by now, those werewolves would've—
“She’s already been found,” Jungkook whispers carefully, quietly, waiting for your reaction. It takes a few minutes for you to completely register what he says, your mind clouding over with confusion. Your thoughts completely stop in their tracks, dwindling off until they disintegrate into nothingness.
“W-what?” You echo, sitting up. “Well, where is she? Is she okay? Is she hurt? Has she eaten? What did they do to her—?”
“She’s fine,” he murmurs. “She’s in the kitchen right now, actually, eating. They didn’t do anything to her — they were gonna sneak her off and sell her as a slave for some higher up in the city… We got there just in time.”
It feels as of the weight of the world has risen off of your shoulders. You can think clearly now; your behaviour just minutes ago brings heat to your face, and you feel shame well up in your stomach. You had never acted like that before — you were strong, calm and responsible, but that just goes to show how important Seyeon was to you.
But Seyeon was alright, she wasn’t hurt, and you could go home now — or could you? If you remembered correctly, Jungkook had said that you were his mate, and if you remembered even further back than that, according to Nancy, werewolves mated for life.
“Thank you,” you bite your lip sheepishly, a stark contrast to not only your usual personality but to the emotional breakdown that had occured minutes ago. “Really, I’m forever in your debt…”
“No, you’re not,” Jungkook smiles gently, brushing a hand through the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Mates look out for each other.”
At the mention of the topic of mates, you can feel the atmosphere shift to a more awkward, serious one. “I know you want to go home,” Jungkook exhales, “And I’ll let you go if you want to. But please, understand. I - literally - will never find anyone like you — it may be a bit early to call it love, but…”
“I understand,” you smile uneasily. It was such a radical concept to take in. Humans didn’t have mates, but you tried to understand to the best of your ability. “I'm… I’m willing to try with you. I mean, if you’re not too bothered at the concept of having a human for a mate.”
“Never,” he grins — and just when the quietness begins to settle in, just as Jungkook’s loving stare makes your stomach become a little too fluttery, the door bursts open, and a small body flings itself onto the bed in a matter of seconds.
Seyeon’s sobbing before you can fully register that she’s in your arms, and the sight already has you tearing up. Despite the fact that you’re fully aware she’s not hurt, you still take the time to look over each and every part of her, smoothing down stray hairs and kissing her forehead and rocking her back and forth, and Jungkook only smiles gently, leaving the room to give you time alone.
3 years later.
The forest is still. It seems like the birds have stopped tweeting and the wind has stopped rustling the leaves under the pressure of the moment. Your bow is sturdy and firm in your hand, breath bated and eye narrowed and focused on your prey. You wait in silence for the perfect moment to release your grip on the string, to let the arrow fly free until it hit its target…
You’ve trained yourself so that no expression shows on your face, but it’s completely contradicted by the shaking of your hand that, as a result, sends your arrow flying at least a few inches away from the deer you were hoping to catch, startling it and sending it fleeing.
“Jeon Jungkook,” you breathe heavily, turning on your heel. The grinning werewolf doesn’t flinch as you storm up to him, casually leaning against a tree. “You scared my prey, asshole!”
“Nuh uh,” Jungkook tsks, grabbing your wrist as you throw a purposely weak punch directed at his jaw. Easily, and without any struggled, he’s switched your places so that he’s caged you against the tree. “No cursing. I’m not having my pups curse fresh out of the womb.”
“Maybe if you didn’t ruin my hunt, I wouldn’t have to curse,” you grumble, rolling your eyes as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw.
“Come on,” he quips playfully, pressing a kiss against your lips, once, twice, three times before he takes the bow from your hands, “You’re not allowed to hunt, anyway. It’s not safe for you or the pups.”
“Nothing is safe anymore,” you remark smartly as he begins to trail off, looking back at you to see if you were following. You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing yourself off the tree and beginning to follow. “I can’t hunt, clean, fight, sew, or do anything that includes any sharo object—”
“I wasn’t the one who put those rules in place!” Jungkook defends, wrapping an arm around your shoulder when you catch up. “Seyeon was the one who told me to not let you do those things.”
“Seyeon is eleven,” you remind him.
“Seyeon is your sister,” Jungkook replies, “and because of that, and because of the fact that she knows you better than anyone, I value her opinion over almost anybody elses when it comes to your safety.”
“Even mine?” You ask incredulously, stopping in your tracks.
“Baby,” Jungkook glances over his shoulder, “You can barely sit down properly with toppling over. Hunting isn’t safe — you should start again after you give birth.”
You huff, grabbing your bow back from him. “Whatever.”
“You know I’m right.”
“You’re never right, Jungkook.”
“Maybe not normally,” he shrugs, “But I’m right when it comes to you, love.”
The Redux collection of modern wooden vintage cars by Candylab
Candylab is the Brooklyn based company, that created an awesome range of modern little wooden toy cars, with the style, vibe and character of vintage muscle cars and other iconic American cars. now they created a new collection, the Redux collection. A series of four iconic American cars, that is a must in the home of everyone who has passion for vintage cars and child, or at least a strong inner-child. You can find it here on Kickstarter.