Bts Jeongguk - Blog Posts

ONCE AGAIN UNDER THE MISTLETOE ⋆ 전정국

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ in which . . prince!jk and princess!oc are gifted with a deluge of adversities. in what was expected to be a day of joy, will they find happiness again? the one that was lost in a mirage a year ago?

words, 2.3k filter, @ lovelogs on polarr,, thank you! love diaries, music rec for once again under the mistletoe — "happiness is a butterfly" — lana del ray [specifically for the last part], "i love you" — billie eilish

────୨ৎ────

Winter came anew, snow spread all over like a soft white blanket, a few pellets here and there. You walked out of the palace, draped in layers of clothing which wrapped warmth around, as you walked  down the imperial staircase decorated royally with different kinds of fairy lighting and small baubles stuck onto the handrail.  Elegant and festive air engulfed the palace atmosphere. As you waltz  to the extravagant Jeonju palace hall, you see workers hurrying, walking hither-thither in order to get the big Christmas tree decorated. Like the friendly woman you are, you greet each one of them as they serve a bow to you. A slow smile lines on your lips while you make your way to the door and out into the palace garden covered in layers of snow. 

The kingdom of Jeonju preparing for Christmas is arduous. 

They say, all princesses are happy, for they have everything they want. No struggles and zero distress. But a princess, beyond the shimmery crown, harbors a soul.. Breathes the same air as everyone irrespectively.

Your life was complete, in the eyes of a commoner. Jewelry, innumerable dresses, people to cater to basic needs, everything. 

You were surely grateful, but a constant void colored in the outlines of your mind, enhancing its emptiness.

The scent of winter was apparent, air turned more frigid as you clutched the clothes draped around you, pressing them more onto your skin as a shield, before sitting down on the bench amidst the green and white expanse of the palace garden.

Numerous thoughts smoothly slide into your mind watching the snow decorate the bushes and trees. Sparing a soft glance at your left hand, your other hand slightly caresses the shining diamond ring encircling the ring finger. 

A promise ring. Defining your love for one another, signifying that your heart belongs to him and only him. Jeon Jungkook. He is the only man you have in your heart and secure your love for. 

Jeonju’s deemed enemy, the prince of Busan.

[ Previous Christmas : A year ago ]

Tip-toeing through the silent hallway of your palace at night with only minutes left for the clock to strike twelve was— peculiar. Especially for a Princess who was forbidden to step foot out of the palace without umpteen bodyguards clearing her way. 

You were always kept away even  from normal experiences. No public interactions, no relationships to cherish, nothing.

Just because your dad, the King of Jeonju, feared his rivals, he kept you indoors shut out from all danger. 

Standing to a side, finding space behind the statue of some revered ancestor, your breaths fogged up the smoothly maintained bronze surface of the rigid man’s metal torso— the cold air dominating.

You look around, silently scrambling to the nearest exit in a flash.

Save?

The jolly air of the palace backyard facing the town hit so vividly, the Christmas cheer already highlighting each of the houses— which were only miniature structures visible from your current position.

The previous day, you heard the maidens in the palace talking about a Christmas ball that was being held in the kingdom of Busan. Yes, you knew they were cut-throat enemies of Jeonju. But, you cared less, and decided to take part in it. 

Discreetly.

It was a task, really, but convincing Soojin— your personal handmaiden— to lend you one of her unused dresses and accessories was quite easy. 

Step 1, check.

Now you stand near the stables, whistling to Ira, your best friend, partner in crime.

Ira gallops in glee, however you could sense the tired whine she lets out the moment you feed her— boosting up energy for the adventurous night ahead— the way to Busan, now your red carpet to freedom.

___

Slowly walking through the wide hall— where several people were huddled up enjoying their time with their dance partners as a melodious Christmas tune was being enunciated by the royal band—you smiled heartily after a long time seeing everyone forget war and crime, just dancing to their heart’s content.

Soon, you were pulled further into the crowd softly, and looking up, you found a pair of very familiar doe eyes boring into yours. 

“I knew you'd come.” He whispered, leaning towards your ear, hearing his voice after the longest time sent shivers down your spine. You’ve been close to only one person in your whole life, and he is the one who stood before you, hands circling around your waist, holding you against him.

Before the Kingdoms got into war, you both were best friends. He was a necessity like morning coffee, unwavering partner in most childhood shenanigans— and maybe just maybe, yours.

Both of you knew, for lifetime, that you're meant to be eachothers'. It wasn't required to be put in long words,

You just knew.

In fact, Busan and Jeonju weren’t enemies until the war that wreaked havoc all around the place. From then, you never got to meet him.

The kingdoms separated, cutting all ties, and even imposing regulations on citizens. 

Never did you think that he’ll remember you after all that happened.

You took the biggest risk, now standing in a ballroom where thousands of people could see and recognize your presence.

However, his hold on you only tightened.

“I thought you wouldn’t remember me.” You let out shakily, overwhelmed with all the emotions striking through your being. 

He swayed your bodies side to side rhythmically, his mouth still near your ear. 

“I can’t afford to forget my princess.” Still dancing to the music, a tear rolled down your eye, head rested upon his shoulder ever so gently. And that small action showed how you missed and longed for him, the only person that gave you love.

“Loving your dress choice for the night, angel.” He chuckles, looking down at the faded material of your clothing. Running a hand through the lace that graced the neckline, his hands rest back on your waist, never ceasing to follow the mellow slow dance.

“You’re making fun of me, when I came such a long way to meet you. Talk about being a man.” Your eyes almost meet the back of your head, rolling them in mock anger, as he connects your foreheads with a breathy laughter rumbling through his chest.

You feel it.

Your hands on his chest, you feel the happiness.

The warmth you were never sure of, until now.

He carefully lets you step on his long pointed shoes— finely polished into shiny black— as your gloved palms find home on his shoulders.

And what you were unaware of, was his sneaky intention.

You looked up, to see the both of you standing near the grand Christmas tree, small branches of mistletoe hanging above your heads. Gaze fixed on Jungkook’s doe eyes, he whispered “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years, princess. Let me-“

“PRINCE JUNGKOOK !!” A deep yell echoed throughout the hall as everyone flinched and gasped, Jungkook detached himself from your figure, knowing the source of that authoritative voice. The music halted midway and now, all eyes were on the both of you.

The King of Busan, threw a sharp glare at you, as you bowed to him, eyes darting around the empty ground. “What are you doing with her? She’s our enemy’s daughter, the Princess of Jeonju. And you, who let you step into our palace?”

“I told her to come” Jungkook stood in front of you defensively. 

“May you enlighten me on who gave you the right to decide, when I’m well and alive?” He asked Jungkook, tension crackling between their gaze.

“I love her, dad. I want her to be my Princess.”

You were absolutely stunned at his confession. He did not say “Princess of Busan”. No titles. Just his.

“JUNGKOOK, HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO ME?” The King raised his voice, outraged at his son’s audacity.

“I want to make my own decisions,-” He was about to go on, but you noticed The King was at his absolute limit of tolerance. You had to intervene. 

“Jungkook please. You can’t talk back to your father.” 

“YOU, you are the reason he talked back to me, his father. I will not spare you and your kingdom. Guards ! I want her out. This instant.” The King ordered as your eyes widened in terror. This news will surely reach your Kingdom and much worse— your father.

And that shouldn’t happen no matter what. 

Like he read your thoughts, Jungkook held his hand up, gesturing the guards to stop moving further.

“I’ll leave.” He simply stated, your whole body shook in terror, slowly holding his shoulder with your right hand.

“Why” A small shaky whisper left your lips. He turned towards you, smiling. 

“Princess, I promise to come back to you. If I don’t leave now, you will be in great trouble, I don’t want that to happen. You deserve a lot more in life.” 

“Out. Now.” His dad said nonchalantly, as you watched Jungkook slip through the swarm of people, their mouths agape in stupefaction as murmurs filled the air.

Who never thought this Christmas night would be so eventful. 

Breaking down into heavy sobs, tears glistened in a cascade through your skin.

He sacrificed everything he had for you.

Not wasting any more time, you bolted out of palace and from the Kingdom of Busan. 

Ira was in no state to carry you any further, her growing neighs filled with complaint reaching your ears.

What did that poor animal do anyways.

You sigh and hop down, patting her soft body, calming her down and perching on a bench in the outskirts of the Kingdom, the dim streetlights casting a glow over.

Almost instantly, a piece of parchment slipped out of Ira’s side pocket, and caught your attention.

Opening it, you found a few words scribbled on it :

Would I ever be able to visit you in that dream Where you and I are eternal  Not a goodbye, but a faint quest I leave, for answers I promise to come back  With my healing wounds, I had left in my heart for eternity  I’m still with you Darkness of the waves in me will be long gone by then You're my everything, words can't describe your soul Our Heart strings  still embracing each other  I’m never letting go  Never in a million years  기대해줘 (wait for me) ~ yours, jeongguk.

A ring slips out of the envelope, and onto the ground, clattering in the loud silence of the surroundings, as Ira stirs from the sides, alerting your attention.

quietly taking it from the sandy pathway, you dust it and put it on.

You don’t cry.

Just longingly stare at the ragged piece of paper.

[ Present Time : 25th December ]

'Tis the season to be jolly', they say.

Not for the Princess of Busan.

The title felt heavy on your shoulders, each time your entire family brings up the happenings of a year ago.

You never celebrated Christmas with joy after the incident.

Instead, you simply used to walk around Jeonju and watch everyone spend their time with loved ones just to put your heart at ease. 

And that’s exactly what you were doing right now. 

Walking around the street, disguised in Soojin’s dress (yet again), watching people shop for gifts, some out in front of their houses decorating the trees, the endearing giggles of  the children who laughed and played around filling up in the air. 

As you continued the stroll, you stumbled upon a small hall from which low chattering erupted. 

Stopping near its door you peered in, careful not to get noticed by anyone inside. But suddenly a group of girls pushed their way in, taking you along with them, accidentally inwards. 

The whole place was decorated minimally but it looked pretty.

Christmas cheer everywhere, it’s the first time you felt festive. The whole aura of the place just fit the season. 

A medium sized tree perched on the floor and vines of mistletoe on and around the tree. 

Busy admiring the place, you felt a small tug at the hem of Soojin’s hand away dress that adorned your body— one that aided you in this disguise.

Looking down, a tiny girl smiled widely at you.

Gently crouching down to meet her eyes, you asked her ;

“Hey baby, what’s your name?” 

“I’m Mina ! You look like a princess ! I want you to dance with my Koo!” She exclaimed as your eyebrows crashed in confusion.

“Who is Koo, Mina?” In response to your query, she pointed towards a tall man, back turned to the both of you as he talked away with other men around him.

“He’s my Prince ! And I want a Princess to love him, a princess who’s as kind and caring just like the one in the story Koo tells me everyday!” She sounded so excited to introduce you to him, and pulled you towards the man.

“Koo ! Mina found a Princess for you, now dance with the others, it’s Christmas, come on.” She nudged his arm and the moment your eyes met with his, the world seemed to stop.

The same doe eyes that carried your galaxy.

“Princess?” He was surprised to see you there.

Mina immediately put your hands into his, the comfort of them which you felt after an eternity, had a lasting effect. 

She pushed you towards the crowd, déjà vu rushing in at the whole setting— Christmas day and the dance— taking you back to the last one almost instantly.

A million questions in your mind, he pulled you closer once again, but this time the hold was more firm and confident. 

Like he’ll never doubt it. 

Like he never did.

You couldn’t help but let out tears, drowning into his eyes as the music played in the background, the mistletoe above your heads once again.

“Princess, look up” You followed his words and looked up only to find the mistletoe right above your heads again. 

“Seems like they're determined to make us kiss.” You joked and he shook his head, resting his forehead on yours, you couldn’t get enough of his eyes, wanting to look at them forever.

“Aren’t you looking into my eyes a little too much? Makes me flustered, princess.”

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore. Let me look at you, what if you’d disappear again? How did you end up here?” You asked, bodies still swaying slightly in accordance to the music.

Unsaid words, but you knew your hearts were situated tightly in eachother's iron grips.

“I wanted to see you all the time, didn’t want to give up, so I came here, worked many hours in this small shop to be independent, I don’t want a kingdom that banished me, anymore, when I have my world with me,”

He looks at you with adoration.

"Knowing you're somewhere around, here in Jeonju, that was all that I needed to keep moving forth. Remember my promise?"

You nod, fingers finding its way into the fabric of his ragged, grey overalls, gripping lightly. He notices the ring wrapped on your finger and caresses it, face splashed with surprise.

Intertwining his hand with your ring-clad ones, your bodies sway further under the mistletoe hanging above.

"Do you live here?" Your simple question makes him smile, hands pushing a few wispy strands of your hair to the side.

"Yes, this is my humble abode, Mina's parents own the shop I work in. I live alone, in their outhouse."

He looks at Mina, excitedly playing around with a few of her friends, running around the tree all ready to open the gifts— dancing in tiny moves, occasionally, to the joyous music.

Your eyes follow, and realize— watching his calm face shine brightly under the yellow lights reflecting through the room.

You're not ready to let go.

"I'm so proud of you, never thought I'd see you again." You feel his calloused hands caress you cheeks, thumb rubbing over the unnoticed beads of tears.

He pauses, turning to look at you in deep contemplation.

“I used to see you when you walked around the palace gardens. From afar.” 

“You could’ve approached me, oh, you don’t know how much I missed you, Jungkook.” You replied, slowly bringing your palm around his nape, bringing his face closer to rest your cherry lips on his.

Surprised by your bold move, he smiles into the kiss, sharing all the passion that he had through it, hands encircling your waist, arching you into him.

A feeling you both yearned for, lips on each other for the first time under the mistletoe, anew.

Once again under the mistletoe, this time it’s forever.

────୨ৎ────

uarmygguk. 2025.

way back home ★ jjk

brief, cuddling on a rainy night starring, CEO!jungkook (baby daddy!jk 😓) x f!reader tags/warnings, none! just some corny lines cuz even though he's a CEO kook's cheesy like that, also korean euphemism reference (iykyk ;)

love diaries music rec, still with you— jungkook

A cold Tuesday night, the streetlights highlighting the sheets of rain sweeping sideways, the slow breeze along with the soft downpour overall — a perfect night to recollect, relax and reflect. You stood in the kitchen of the penthouse, stirring up and preparing hot shin ramen, simultaneously warming up some milk, as the rain continued to go “pitter-patter” outside. Your glance occasionally shifted to the glass window where the raindrops were sticking on, enjoying every bit of the night, as the sound of rain reverberated through the kitchen, Seoul city spanning out right in front of your eyes with new doors to happiness opening everyday.

A small fist grabbed the hem of your tee and tugged on it to grab your attention, making you look down, only to find your toddler, Mia looking up at you with her doe eyes that held a questioning look—  one that she purely inherited from her father, Jungkook. Her cherubic smile melted your senses as you scooped her up,  along with the cookie plushie she tightly clutched onto.

“Mia, didn’t mommy tell you to play with cookie while she brings milk for you?” You lightly tap the plushy clad in her tiny fists, as she defensively brings cookie closer to her little face, eyes slightly curved and lips already in a small pout, soon parted to form words.

“Dada, me wanna see” She barely made a sentence, but the longing in her sweet voice was enough for you to realize that she had been missing her best friend,  her dad. Jungkook was the best dad to Mia, you love the way his eyes turn into goo when he holds her close, the way the both of them bond. He was off to work for a week now, in another town. He’d never miss a chance to come on FaceTime with you, and Mia pops in, giggling and her attempts to speak were just too cute to resist. She'd host a full fledged puppet show with cookie and her other plushies, occasionally jumping on the couches and chairs, making you sprint along as Jungkook watches the shenanigans a screen away.

But those wouldn't compensate for the feeling of having him close, feeling his warmth around you, and the rainy night caused these feelings to grow rapidly. 

Definitely missing him.

“Dada will come tomorrow, okay? Now my baby can have her milk !” You lit her mood up as she lightly clapped her tender hands. Putting her down gently, you started filling her small bottle with milk, but just then, the doorbell rang as Mia ran towards it hoping that it’d be her dad with you following behind.

Clicking the door open, the familiar scent of forment cologne caught you off-guard, only to meet your beloved husband’s heart eyes that bored into yours.

“Jungkook ! You’re back !” Forgetting everything else, your arms flung around his well-built body, his hands encircling your waist in return. Mia started jumping in tiny, wanting to be in her father’s embrace too. Noticing her little movements, he immediately picked her up and peppered her face with small kisses, making you look at them in awe.

“I missed you both, couldn’t wait to finish everything and come back to my lovely wife and dada’s girl.” He pecked your lips and collected his baggage before going inside with you and Mia.

“Why aren’t you saying anything, love?” He set aside his suitcase and you helped him remove his coat.

“I’m just too stunned to speak honestly- You didn’t tell me that you were coming today ! I could’ve prepared something special for you.” You made a not-so-satisfied face as Jungkook laughed  it away, easing your frown with his free hand.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” He winked, making you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. That’s when Mia started tapping Jungkook’s cheeks, still in his arms.

“Yes yes baby? What happened?” His attention shifted completely to her, as she yawned, her doe eyes getting droopy.

“Mia wants to sleep, I see. C’mon, let’s rest together.” Patting her back, he was about to walk away with her when you stopped him.

“Koo, you can go and freshen up. I’ll put her to bed.” 

However, he stood still, Mia now fast asleep in her dad’s arms.

“Jungkook? Go take a shower.”

“No fun in showering alone. I’m too lazy. Someone up to help me?” He raised a brow in mischief.

You knew where this was going.

“I’d much rather help my baby sleep.”  You laughed at his shocked expression as you took Mia from him and walked towards the bedroom, him giving up and retreating to the restroom to indulge in a relaxing hot shower, as the rain showed no sign of ceasing for the night, much to his delight..

time skip;

Jungkook eased his muscles, a hot shower on a cold rainy night was pure bliss. He walked out of the washroom drying his soft locks when his eyes landed upon Mia’s sleeping figure. She laid down on the soft mattress, legs tangled together cuddling the very plushie he once gifted her on her first birthday.

You rushed into the room scrubbing your lightly wet hands against the apron wrapped around your figure, looking like you just came from work to check on Mia.

“Hey, cherry” Jungkook walked to you and wrapped you in his hold as you tried to wiggle out to check on the dish cooking up back in the kitchen so that it wouldn’t burn.

“Koo, I gotta make something for you, not now.”

However the “cherry” did something to you, as remnants of your times back in school where it all started, came back in a cascade of memories. A friendship that planted its seed back when the both of you were literal children, morphed into something even more beautiful, but nothing changes no matter the distance or time. He’ll always be your best friend, your partner in every step of life.

“I’d love anything you make, even if it’s just some ramen.” His grip tightened, making you stop your attempts to get away.

“That’s cap, now don’t be stubborn, Jeon.” You scolded but he lifted you up in his hold, your feet now on top of his, moving  behind the divider curtains so that your baby wouldn’t be disturbed amidst the somewhat get-together her parents are having.

“You smell so good, baby” He whispers into your neck, eyes closed.

“I think I smell like ramen and milk powder, for sure.” You swat his shoulder, bringing him close as he hums into your chest, now, placing featherlight kisses all over it and right at the centre of the J necklace that wrapped around your neck.

“Nope, you smell like what’s mine.”

You were about to snort at his corny reply, but his following  response tightens your heart strings.

“You’re doing great. Thank you for holding our family together.”

He leans down, placing his tender lips on yours, foreheads resting against each other as his hands rub your waist over the apron, drawing you even closer, as if it’s possible. 

Just then, you heard a soft sniffle, realizing that Mia woke up, you went over, and took her in your motherly embrace, cooing sweet nothings to calm her down. Meanwhile, Jungkook walked up to your duo and placed himself on the bed, resting his back on the headboard, and gestured to you to go to him.

You had Mia in your arms, his embrace immediately wrapping around the both of you as the rain continued outside, the clock ticked to the time, 9.30 pm. Mia was already fed, since you prefer to put her to bed early. Feeling soft pecks landing on your forehead time to time, you asked Jungkook 

"How was work there? Are you good?" Your eyes went to Mia’s peaceful face as she succumbed to sleep yet again.

He hummed with a sweet smile before opening his relaxed eyes. 

"I did well, but couldn't wait to come back home. But I've left off all the work for a week from today." He said, looking at your confused self.

"But weren't you the one who wouldn't spend time with us until all your work is complete? What's up now?" You whispered making sure not to wake Mia up.

"I thought about it, love.. I'll never have this best version of me if I'm away from the both of you. Now I'm gonna slow everything down and build our family, putting you first before anything." Tears welled up in your hazel eyes, how committed he was about your family. Definitely lucky to have him as your husband. 

"Hey, love, don't cry. I don't like to see you like this." Contradictory to those words, his tummy rumbled making him gasp and smile bashfully, elevating the emotionally charged surroundings.

“Oh god, see you’re hungry. I told you to eat before anything else, didn’t I? C’mon, I’ll make you some ramen.” You put Mia on the mattress, placing a few pillows near her just in case she tosses and turns. 

Taking out two cups of ramen, you fetched the already boiled water, mixed it with the noodles, and added the contents of the flavor packet that came with it into the paper cup. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you warmly, watching you cook up his meal.

“There you go. Eat well, I made it with love, you know.” You joked making him chuckle and dig into it scrunching his face at how good it tasted.

You couldn’t help but boop his nose, as he continued to slurp on the spicy goodness.

“You not eatin’?” He asked with a full mouth, barely making a coherent sentence.

“It’s 10pm. I already ate, baby.”

He seemed satisfied with your reply, immediately asking you for a side of kimchi to go with the last bits of noodles left.

___

[After dinner; 11:01 pm]

Intertwining his hands with yours, he walked you to the balcony, facing the rain which never seemed to end. Standing behind you, his arms around your figure, watching the rain was his little happiness. He yearned almost everyday to just feel you with him when he was away, but since the moment is here, he wanted to cherish every second.

“Lord, why’s the weather so moody? You know, I love the way the rain makes the brown soil seem richer and earthier than they are otherwise. It’s like it makes the things around us more pronounced and seen.” You muse into his ears, hands now resting on his tatted ones around your waist.

“Just like how I feel when I’m with you.” He added to your description, a crimson shade splashing on your bashful visage.

“You’re too cheesy today, what’s in the air huh?” You tapped his cheeks lightly.

“Hmm, I wanted to ask you something, though.” His eyes half closed, lax, almost as if he’s feeling the surroundings.

“Yes?” You waited for a response as he turned you around to face him directly in the eyes.

“Wanna have more ramen with me before bed?”

Favorite Jungkook Fic 🐰

This is the list for Series (some are ongoing) and Two Shots. List for One Shots and Drabbles is here

Series || Two shots

✩ Worst of You @oureuphoria | Angst, Fluff (Jungkook Police Officer au. Jungkook has commitment issue) <Complete>

✩ @ahundredtimesover

Inevitable | Angst, Fluff, Smut (Jungkook sports au. Dad Jungkook) <Complete>

Empty Space | Angst, Smut, Fluff (Two Shots. Police Officer Jungkook. Ex fwbs) <Complete>

✩ Re: Untitled @to-star-lake | Angst, Smut, Fluff (Husband Jungkook. Marriage au. It has a big twist and that is mind-blowing) <Complete>

✩ His Name @jimlingss | Angst (Jungkook has DID. OC is a psychologist. It is really sad 😭) <Complete>

✩ Take My Hands Now @manggojooz | Angst, Fluff (Jungkook College /Uni au. OC has a special power of feeling others' pain) <Complete>

✩ Angel's Trumpet @hansolmates | Fluff, Angst, Slight Smut (Jungkook idol au. Kind of fantasy au) <Complete>

✩ Stoic and Redemption @blue-jade | Angst, Smut (Two shots. Husband Jungkook. Infidelity au. Parents au in the second story) <Complete>

✩ @flowerwrites06

Utopic Desire | Angst, Smut (Jungkook vampire au) <Complete>

Bow to You | Angst, Smut yet (Royalty au. Infidelity au. King Jungkook Queen OC) <Ongoing>

✩ To Build A Home @soft4gguk | Fluff, Smut, Angst (Single dad Jungkook. Nanny OC) <Ongoing>

✩ Evolution of A Lover's Heart @jeonstudios | Angst, Fluff (Jungkook College /Uni au. Fuckboy Jungkook but he is a good person now after an incident. But he is hurt 😭) <Ongoing>

✩ An Ode to a Broken Heart @smoochkooks | Angst, Slight Smut yet (Drabble series. Unrequited love. Best friend au) <Ongoing>

✩ Burning Love @bangtanficsforyou | Angst yet (Only prologue has come. Jungkook is OC's ex) <Ongoing>

✩ Candy Cane Ache @monvante | Angst, Fluff yet (The Proposal au. Journalist Jungkook) <Ongoing>

Jungkook is still a baby. My baby boy 😚😘

Stolen Orbit

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: alien au, yandere jk, dark horror, enemies to lovers,

summary: you were meant for eradication with the rest of your planet—erased without a trace, just another speck in the galaxy's endless purge. but jeongguk saw you. fragile, insignificant... human. and something his kind had long forgotten stirred in him. Instead of erasing your existence, he took you, stole you from extinction and made you his.

now you live in a celestial cage, adored and possessed by something not quite capable of love, but desperate to keep you. he doesn't understand your fear, your resistance, but he craves your surrender all the more because of it. and if it takes breaking you to make you his completely... he will.

warnings: slow burn, mass extermination, alien jungkook forced captivity/proximity, psychological manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, ritualistic copulation

word count: 5,857

The Beginning

The sky split open the night they came. You didn’t see it at first, no one did.

You brushed your teeth that night. Standing in your tiny bathroom beneath flickering fluorescent lights, humming faintly to music you can’t remember anymore. A song that cut out mid chorus when everything else did.

You paused, frowned, the mirror vibrated faintly, a shiver running across your reflection. Confused, you flicked the light switch. Nothing.

Reach for your phone. Dead.

Outside, the city dimmed as though someone had thrown a heavy blanket over the world. Buildings blinked out, window by window. Cars stalled silently in the streets.

Then came the sirens. Low and unearthly, vibrating deep in your chest rather than ringing in your ears.

You pressed your palms to the vanity, trying to pinpoint the source.

No alarms.

No helicopters.

No dogs barking or people yelling in the distance.

Just… stillness.

Until the sky broke.

You saw it from your window, face pale in the glass as blackness carved itself across the heavens like a wound tearing through flesh.

It didn’t glow or rage, it hummed.

And through that terrible void came beams of sterile white light.

You watched—paralyzed—as they swept through the streets, swallowing people whole. No fire, no blood, they simply ceased.

Your neighbor clutching her husband on the balcony. The delivery boy halfway up the stairs. A child pedaling frantically on his bicycle.

Gone.

Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. By the time your legs remembered how to function, chaos had bloomed outside.

Screams.

Desperate, useless prayers. People running without knowing where safety even existed.

It didn’t matter.

Your chest crushed inward as panic overtook you. You grabbed your phone, screaming into dead silence, dialing numbers that wouldn’t connect.

Your father’s voicemail.

Your sister’s disconnected line.

The beams moved without emotion, erasing everything they touched as easily as wiping chalk from a board. You don’t remember deciding to run. You don’t remember leaving your apartment. You only remember the maintenance tunnels.

You shoved yourself beneath concrete and metal, nails splitting and bleeding as you slammed the hatch shut above you.

And there you stayed.

For minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Time broke.

The silence that followed was not peaceful.

It was dead.

::::::::::::

When you woke, it was worse. Not because you survived. Not even because the world was gone.

But because you weren’t there anymore.

Your eyes opened to sterility. Smooth, seamless walls of faintly glowing white, like pearl carved from bone. No corners or seams. Just endless smoothness in every direction, as though the room itself were grown rather than built.

There were no windows.

No doors.

Only a faint humming, familiar and yet not. Not the gentle whir of an AC or the buzz of old light bulbs. This was deeper, vibrating at a frequency that scraped against the base of your skull. It sounded like something alive.

You sat up too fast, your breath catching painfully in your throat.

The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, molding to your shape like memory foam, but it didn’t feel right. It smelled faintly of something sweet and sterile, like a flower that had never known dirt.

You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, your head spinning.

“Hello?” you rasped. No answer, just the never ending hum.

You tried again.

“HELLO?”

Your voice echoed strangely, rebounding without substance, as though the room itself were swallowing the sound.

A prickling sensation raced down your spine as you scrambled to your feet. Your legs were weak and shaky, like you hadn’t used them in days. You stumbled toward the nearest wall and pressed your palms flat against it.

It was warm.

Not cold like metal. Not smooth like glass.

Warm, as though the structure around you was some kind of living skin.

You recoiled instinctively.

“What the fuck,” you whispered.

Your chest heaved as you tried to remember.

Where were you?

Where was your family?

Had you died?

The last thing you remembered was hiding. Listening to the world end. And then— nothing. Your stomach twisted violently. Panic set in like lead poisoning, slow but lethal. You began slamming your fists against the wall.

“LET ME OUT!”

“WHERE AM I?!”

Nothing. No doors appeared, no voices responded. But the hum grew louder, though, it didn’t feel or sound angry. Not mechanical.

It sounded oddly interested.

You froze, pressing your back against the bed as a low chime resonated throughout the space. The wall directly across from you rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone, and opened.

A doorway formed from nothing, and something stepped through.

At first, you thought he was wrong. Everything about him felt off in ways your mind couldn’t fully process.

Tall—towering—with limbs too graceful and too fluid to be comforting.

Skin pale and luminous, glowing softly from within, threaded with faint iridescence that shifted as he moved. Hair dark and weightless, littered with braids adorned with glimmering otherworldly metals, drifting as though underwater. Framing features too symmetrical, too perfect.

And his eyes.

They were unsettling, solid black at first glance.

But as he drew closer, they shifted—illuminated galaxies of silver, violet, and deep cosmic blues, swirling softly in patterns that hurt to stare at for too long.

You stumbled backward, your legs colliding with the bed as your pulse thundered.

He did not flinch, but instead stepped closer.

Graceful. Effortless.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Every primitive instinct screamed at you to run, but your body betrayed you. He tilted his head as he regarded you.

Not cruelly, not kindly. Curiously.

His voice slid across your mind rather than your ears.

“You are… fragile.”

You flinched, shaking your head as if a bug was caught in your hair. The words felt invasive, sliding into your consciousness without permission.

He stepped closer.

“I am Jeongguk.”

The name thrums with alien cadence, yet tastes almost familiar in your mind. His glowing eyes flicker faintly, as if pleased by your terror.

“You reside aboard Virexum,” he continues calmly. “This vessel collects and preserves what remains after eradication.”

“Eradication?” you whisper, voice hollow.

“Earth was terminated.”

A pause, as if considering how much you can process. “Your species had reached decay. Pollution. War. Rot. The Kaereth do not preserve weakness. We cleanse.”

The words hit harder than any weapon. You shake your head violently, sobbing openly now.

Your father, your sister. They’re…gone?

“No. No, you can’t— you didn’t—”

“It was mercy.”

His voice softens slightly, but not kindly. “Existence without evolution is entropy. The Kaereth do not allow suffering. We end it.”

You can’t breathe.

You drop to your knees, pressing your palms to your face as the horror swells and breaks inside you.

But he does not.

Tears flooded your vision, hot and blinding as your sobs shattered the sterile silence, ugly and helpless.

He watches you the way one might watch a dying star—quietly admiring, deeply fascinated.

When you finally stilled, he crouched before you, his claws retracting as he reached out. You recoiled instinctively, but he only touched your hair, brushing it back from your damp face with a tenderness that felt foreign.

“I did not erase you,” he murmurs.

You flinch, but his hand cradles your face delicately, tipping it up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You glowed,” he says, softer now. Almost enthralled.

“Amidst destruction, you clung to life. You burned brighter than the dying world around you. You will not suffer,” he said quietly. “You are mine now. You will be kept.”

Kept.

The word echoed as he stood again, gesturing to the room around you. “This is yours. Safe. Nourishing. You will adjust.”

You choked on disbelief.

“Why me?”

He paused.

And for the first time since he arrived, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened. His lips parted just slightly, almost pious.

“Because,” he murmured, as though speaking to himself, “you glowed brightest before death.”

With that, he turned and left, the wall sealing behind him in silence.

Leaving you alone with the hum, and the terrible, hollow truth that you were the last of your kind. And you were his now.

Whatever that meant.

Whatever that would become.

::::::::::::

You don’t remember sleeping, but when your eyes open again, raw and heavy from hours of silent sobbing, the room is dimmer. The walls, once glowing faintly like a moonlit sea, have softened to a deep, low shimmer, as though mimicking the concept of nighttime.

You’re still here.

Still locked in this dreamless nightmare of seamless walls and soundless air.

Still wearing the thin, pale shift you woke up in, neither warm nor cold, but irritating in its neutrality.

Still alone.

Except… you aren’t.

You feel him before you see him. The hum of the room changes. Deepens, sharpens as though the ship itself reacts to his presence.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, throat dry from hours of ragged breathing.

When the wall ripples open again, it’s almost gentle. Less like a command, and more like the way curtains are drawn back to allow moonlight in.

And there he stands.

Jeongguk.

Alien. Impossibly elegant.

Unfathomably tall, framed in the soft glow as though carved from the bones of dying stars.

You freeze when his eyes meet yours, not because they’re cruel. But because they are intent.

Hungry.

Unblinking.

“You are awake.”

His voice slides across your mind again, as smooth as silk and as cold as space.

You swallow tightly, sitting rigid on the edge of the bed. Your legs are weak, but you fight to keep your spine straight.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely, the word tasting hollow in your mouth. “Please just tell me what you want from me.”

He pauses.

“I have told you,” he says, moving forward, soundless as shadow. “You are mine. You will be kept. That is what I want.”

His words make your stomach twist violently. You push up from the bed, backing away until your shoulder blades press into the wall behind you.

“You can’t just— keep me!”

Your voice cracks, teetering between hysteria and disbelief.

“I’m not some… some thing you can collect!”

He stops mid step, considering.

His expression doesn’t change and yet, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny press down on you.

“Incorrect,” he says softly, as though correcting a child. “You are precious. Not a ‘thing’. Not to me.”

You open your mouth to argue, to scream, but your breath catches as something changes.

The bioluminescent lines across his body shift subtly. They pulse gently.

You don’t know why, but the sight makes your heart stutter.

Is that emotion?

Before you can question it, he raises one hand.

A low chime echoes through the room, and from the far wall, a smooth panel unfolds. It reveals a strange, device that emits fragrant steam.

Your stomach clenches painfully as your senses recognize what it is before your mind does.

Food.

Or, at least, something meant to replicate it. Soft, pale orbs float in an iridescent broth, giving off a smell not unlike fresh bread and honey.

It should be comforting.

But in this place, nothing feels comforting.

“You have not consumed nourishment in sixteen of your planet’s hours,” Jeongguk says calmly, gesturing toward the offering.

“Your body weakens. This is inefficient.”

You hesitate, eyeing the bowl warily.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie.

His head tilts, faintly reptilian in the gesture, and for the first time, a flicker of something sharper edges into his tone.

“You will eat.”

The words are not barked.

Not threatening.

But absolute.

You stare back at him, shaking slightly.

And when you make no move to comply, he steps forward and takes the bowl himself, walking closer until he is far too near. He crouches, folding gracefully in front of you like a predator settling in for the kill.

But instead of violence, he offers you the bowl directly.

Holding it out, waiting patiently.

“Eat,” he murmurs.

His eyes glow faintly as they fix on your face.

“For me.”

Your lips part helplessly. Something in the way he says it. Quiet, almost intimately, sends your skin crawling and burning at once.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

And yet…

Your body obeys. Your fingers tremble as you accept the bowl, lifting one of the pale orbs to your lips.

It tastes… nothing like food.

But it dissolves softly on your tongue, leaving behind warmth that creeps slowly down your throat.

Not unpleasant, not pleasurable. Just… filling.

Sustaining.

You eat in silence, aware of his unwavering gaze as you do. When the bowl empties, he takes it back carefully, setting it aside.

“Better,” he says quietly.

You can’t meet his eyes.

The tears come again without permission, sliding hot and heavy down your face. You curl in on yourself, trying to muffle the broken sounds that escape your throat.

And then… a touch.

Featherlight at first, fingers ghosting against your temple, sliding into your hair.

You tense, but he does not press.

“You fear me.” His words are not questioning. “Good. It is natural. You are fragile.”

Your breath hitches painfully.

His hand slips lower, knuckles grazing your cheek with maddening delicacy.

“But fear will fade,” he continues softly. “In time, you will see. I am not cruel. I am constant. You will not be harmed. You will be… cherished.”

You turn your head away sharply and his fingers slip free, but you feel the weight of his focus intensify.

“You misunderstand your position,” he murmurs. “Earth is gone. You are alone in a universe that has no place for you. No one will come for you. No one can.”

You clench your fists tightly in your lap, the truth cutting deeper than his touch ever could.

“Why me?” you ask, voice breaking. “Why not let me die with the rest?”

He leans in slightly, his presence invading your every sense.

“Because when others knelt and wept… you raged,” he whispers. “You burned. You clung to life with ferocity. That is rare.”

His eyes soften, if such a thing is possible for something so alien.

“I collect what should not exist.” A faint smile, too serene, too knowing. “You are an anomaly. You are mine.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip, forcing back another sob.

“This isn’t cherishing,” you whisper bitterly.

“This is prison.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he rises slowly, towering over you once more. His hands fold neatly behind his back. The perfect image of composed, regal authority.

“No,” he agrees softly. “This is preservation.”

He steps back toward the door, but his voice reaches you again as it ripples open to accept him.

“Rest. I will return when you are calmer.”

A pause.

“And eventually… you will thank me.”

Then he is gone.

And you’re eft in the silence once more—but not alone.

Not really.

Because his scent still lingers. His voice still hums faintly in your mind. And worse, you realize part of you is already listening for his return.

::::::::::::

You don’t see him again for three cycles. You don’t know how you know this. There’s no sun here, no night and day, no ticking clock on sterile walls—but your body remembers.

It remembers the ache of hunger.

The slow unraveling of sanity when left in isolation. The bone deep dread that blooms in the absence of any other voice but your own.

For seventy two hours, maybe more, maybe less, you are alone.

The ship hums softly at all hours, the walls glowing faintly like a slumbering beast. Your room, if you can even call it that, remains locked.

No doors.

No windows.

Just blank, seamless walls and a bed that conforms to your every restless shift.

Food appears twice, delivered silently through a hidden panel in the wall, but you ignore it. You sit curled on the bed, stomach clenching painfully, but you refuse to give in.

Not again, not after last time.

He’d fed you like a child.

Watched you with something sickly tender in his eyes while you cried and ate and fell apart in front of him.

No.

You will not make this easy for him. Your anger is all you have left. The only shield between you and the quiet, desperate terror that creeps in when you allow yourself to feel anything else.

So you don’t eat.

You don’t sleep.

You don’t talk to the empty room, no matter how loud the silence becomes.

You wait.

Because you know he’ll come back, of course he will.

Men like him, things like him, always come back.

And when he does, you are ready.

—

He appears on the fourth cycle.

Not like before, there’s no grand entrance. No rippling doors or ominous hums.

You wake to find him already there, standing at the foot of the bed like a phantom who has always belonged in your nightmares. He watches you in silence, arms folded behind his back, eyes glowing softly in the low light.

You glare at him, lips cracked from dehydration.

He says nothing.

“Fuck you.”

Your voice scrapes like gravel against your raw throat, but it feels good to say.

Good to bite, even if your teeth barely graze.

His head tilts slightly, that same alien gesture that makes your stomach turn.

“You are weakening,” he observes softly, almost clinically. “Your refusal to consume nourishment endangers your cellular structure. This is illogical.”

You laugh, sharp and brittle.

“Good. Let me die, then.”

For the first time, his expression shifts, not dramatically, but his brows knit slightly, his mouth drawing in the faintest sliver.

He doesn’t like that.

“Negative,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I will not allow termination.”

You push yourself up on shaking arms, baring your teeth in something that feels more animal than human.

“I don’t belong to you. You can’t keep me like this. Feeding me, locking me in this—this cage! I’ll starve before I let you win.”

His eyes narrow faintly, glowing brighter. “You misunderstand,” he murmurs, his voice lowering dangerously.

“This is not a contest,” he moves closer, slow, deliberate steps that make your pulse spike and your limbs tremble. “This is inevitability.”

You scramble off the bed, stumbling backward until your spine hits the wall. His presence consumes the room, filling every atom of available space, as though the ship itself responds to his shifting mood.

He stands before you now, towering and still.

“You may resist,” he allows softly. “You may cry, scream, refuse… for a time.”

His hand rises, not threatening, but steady as his fingers gently, maddeningly, brush your jaw. The touch sends a bolt of revulsion and something more complicated spiraling through you.

“But you will acclimate.”

His voice vibrates softly in your bones, dangerous in its certainty.

You slap his hand away, the sound cracking through the air like gunfire.

For a moment, nothing happens.

He simply stares at you, the tips of his fingers still poised where they had been, motionless, as though stunned.

And then…he withdraws, silently. Without anger or words. Simply steps back, gaze unreadable, and turns for the door.

Panic flashes hot and instant through your chest. “No—” you gasp, confused by your own terror at his sudden departure.

He stops just before the wall seals behind him. For the first time, his voice emerges aloud, not through your mind, but spoken.

Low.

Flat.

Cold.

“You have chosen isolation.”

Then he’s gone, and so is everything else.

The hum of the ship fades, the lights dim to near darkness. The temperature drops, not enough to freeze, but enough to chill your skin, to make your breath puff faintly in the air.

The bed retracts into the wall.

The food panel vanishes.

You are left standing in nothing.

Cold.

Alone.

—

For hours—maybe days—you are abandoned to the hollow, oppressive silence.

Your tears dry.

Your voice fades from hoarseness to nothing. Your legs give out, and you curl on the hard floor, clutching yourself tightly as sleep eludes you in the endless dark.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when the wall finally ripples open again, soft, warm light spilling through and his tall, silent figure appears in the doorway once more, you sob.

Relief.

Humiliation.

Rage.

You don’t understand which emotion is which anymore.

He crosses the threshold slowly, eyes glowing faintly in gentle shades of blue and pink. Soft, careful, like a predator soothing prey after the kill.

Without speaking, he kneels before you, gathering your shaking body into his arms. You don’t fight him this time.

You can’t.

You’re too cold.

Too broken.

His hand strokes your hair as he murmurs something low in his language, soft syllables that sound like lullabies from a galaxy you will never see.

“I will not harm you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your temple. “Do not make me hurt you through absence again; I ache.”

Your fingers clutch his robe weakly, sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but it’s empty.

Weak.

He hums softly.

“I know.”

He pulls you closer, cradling you as though you are delicate and rare, because to him, you are.

“And yet you need me.”

You can’t argue.

Not right now.

Not when his warmth is the only thing that feels real in this endless void of stars and silence.

::::::::::::

You don’t sleep, even when your body begs you to.

Sleep would mean trusting the silence, surrendering.

So you lay awake on the strange, pliant surface that the ship has provided. Not quite a bed, but softer than the floor that left your bones aching and cold during your punishment.

You are still recovering from that.

The ache of isolation.

The terror of being truly, utterly alone.

But more than that… you are recovering from the humiliation.

Because when he returned, when he found you curled and trembling, teeth chattering and face raw from tears, you clung to him.

You didn’t mean to.

Your body simply reacted, desperate and starved for anything warm and familiar.

Your fingers twisted into the dark folds of his robes, your face pressed into the cool planes of his chest, and you wept like a creature broken open.

And Jeongguk did nothing but hold you.

No words.

No threats.

No cruel satisfaction.

Just stillness.

Just presence.

His hands stroked your back, slow and repetitive, the way you imagine one might soothe a terrified animal.

His head bent low, his breath ghosting against your temple as he whispered words in a language your mind couldn’t translate, soft and melodic, making you feel drunk with the weight of them.

Even now, hours later, his scent still lingers on your skin.

Warm and metallic.

Alien and oddly sweet.

Like lightning woven into silk.

You hate that you find comfort in it now. You hate yourself more than you hate him, but the truth is suffocating in its simplicity.

You needed him.

And he knew it.

—

The door ripples again, seamlessly and without warning. You stiffen instinctively, heart leaping to your throat.

But when Jeongguk steps through, he does not bring the same oppressive energy he had before.

There is no towering, silent menace, or sharp glint of irritation or frustration in his starlit eyes.

Instead…he looks calm, serene, even.

His robes have changed. Still dark, but lighter now. Softer. He wears no armor, or sharp adornments. His hair hangs loose, gleaming faintly in the ship’s low bioluminescence.

He looks… domestic.

If such a word could ever apply to him.

The ship itself seems to respond, the walls brightening subtly, soft, ambient pulses that make the air feel warmer somehow.

More intimate.

Less clinical.

It unnerves you more than his previous coldness.

“Good,” he says quietly, his voice sliding into your consciousness with practiced ease. “You remain.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you again, relaxing minutely at the familiar cadence of his presence.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” you mutter bitterly.

Jeongguk tilts his head slightly, considering.

“No,” he agrees softly. “But you remained nonetheless.”

The phrasing makes something twist painfully low in your stomach. Before you can respond, he approaches, slow, careful steps as though approaching something fragile.

Which, in his eyes, you suppose you are.

He lowers himself gracefully beside you on the bed like surface, close enough that you feel the subtle hum of his energy brushing against your skin.

“I have observed,” he begins, tone thoughtful. “Prolonged isolation causes distress beyond simple physical discomfort in your species.”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around your knees protectively.

“Yeah. That’s called being human.”

He hums softly, as though filing the information away like a precious resource.

“I have no desire to harm you, little star,” he murmurs, and his hand lifts, pausing in the air between you, as if seeking silent permission.

You don’t give it.

But you don’t pull away when his fingers brush lightly across your hair, tucking it back from your face.

His touch is careful.

Maddening.

“I desire only your peace.”

You choke on a bitter laugh.

“Peace? You abducted me, destroyed my planet, locked me in this ship and act like that’s kindness.”

His expression softens, strangely fond despite your venom.

“You misunderstand,” he says gently.

“I did not destroy your planet. I spared you from its fate.”

His fingers trail down, brushing against the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, and you shiver despite yourself.

“You were meant to end,” he continues softly, voice almost hypnotic. “But you burned. You raged. You survived.”

His thumb strokes softly against your lower lip, a touch so tender you forget, briefly, how much you despise him.

“You are rare,” he murmurs. “And rare things are not discarded. They are treasured.”

The words settle in your chest like poison wrapped in silk. You should recoil, should slap his hand away, curse him until your throat gives out.

But instead…you close your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to feel the soft press of his palm against your cheek, anchoring you in this strange, terrible reality.

He takes your silence as permission.

Of course he does.

“Good,” he breathes, satisfaction humming softly in his voice. “You are learning.”

You force your eyes open, glaring weakly at him.

“Learning what?”

His lips curl faintly, not quite a smile, but something disturbingly close.

“To accept.”

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when he shifts closer, pressing his body flush to yours, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders, you don’t pull away.

You are cold.

You are tired.

You are alone.

And he is warm.

He is steady.

He is here.

You rest your head against his shoulder before you can think better of it, disgust warring with relief in your chest.

Jungkook says nothing, but the ship hums softly around you, glowing faintly in shades of rose and gold. Contentment radiating from every surface.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve curled against him until his mouth brushes the crown of your head.

“You will see soon,” he murmurs, words sinking deep into your bones. “I am not your enemy. I am your only constant.”

You fall asleep before you can argue. And for the first time since Earth fell, you sleep through the cycle without waking to scream.

::::::::::::

You wake to warmth.

Not the clinical, neutral temperature of the ship. That engineered comfort that feels more like a lack of discomfort than real heat but true warmth.

Soft.

Heavy.

Alive.

For a moment, your mind refuses to grasp why.

You are tucked beneath something impossibly smooth and weighty , fabric like liquid silk draped over your body, cocooning you in decadent softness.

And behind you, against the curve of your spine, something solid.

Firm.

Breathing.

A heartbeat thrums, steady and deep, so close it vibrates through your back and into your bones.

Not the ship.

Him.

Jeongguk.

You go rigid before you can think. Your hands clench the sheets, alien and faintly iridescent m, as you strain to control your breathing.

You are being held, no, you are being kept.

His arm is heavy across your waist, claws retracted but still unsettling, his fingers resting just beneath your ribcage with terrifying intimacy. His face is pressed lightly to the crown of your head, long hair brushing against your temple like ghost silk.

For several agonizing seconds, you debate your options.

Pull away.

Wake him.

Escape—if that’s even possible anymore.

But as your heart hammers and your stomach twists, you realize something worse.

You don’t want to move.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever, you are not cold, you are not alone, or terrified of what silence might bring.

You are simply… held.

And that, somehow, feels more dangerous than anything he’s done so far.

He stirs before you can make a decision.

The shift is subtle, the faint tightening of his grip, the softening of his breath, the way the ship’s hum lifts faintly, mirroring the change in atmosphere.

Then his voice slides into your mind, quieter than usual.

Thicker.

“You are awake.”

You flinch slightly, but he does not move away. Instead, he exhales slowly, the sound almost… content.

“You slept well,” he murmurs aloud this time, his voice low and textured, as though speaking in words costs him more effort than using your mind.

“You did not cry.”

Shame burns through you instantly. You twist beneath his arm, trying to put space between your bodies, but his hold tightens slightly.

“No,” he says softly, head dipping lower so that his breath brushes the shell of your ear. “Stay.”

Your heart races painfully.

“Why?” you whisper, hating the smallness in your voice.

His answer is simple.

“Because you do not truly wish to leave.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t say it cruelly.

He doesn’t taunt or mock.

He speaks it as though it is a fact he has long since accepted and is merely waiting for you to do the same.

Before you can respond, he shifts, drawing back just enough to allow you to turn and face him. The sight steals the words from your throat.

Up close, he is devastating.

More than alien.

More than beautiful.

His features are carved from something you do not have words for, too elegant to be called soft, too precise to be human. His silver violet eyes glow faintly in the dimness, framed by dark lashes that cast delicate shadows across high cheekbones.

But it is the way he looks at you that truly leaves you breathless.

Not with desire.

Not with hunger.

With… possession. As though you are the first and only star in his universe.

You turn your face away, pulse hammering.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He does not obey.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m—”

You falter, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Yours,” you finish bitterly.

His hand moves, fingers brushing your jaw, guiding you gently to meet his gaze again.

“You are mine,” he murmurs softly, as though stating something as mundane as the time of day. “You remain only because I desire it. You live because I allow it. You breathe because I have given you this sanctuary.”

The words are cruel in logic, yet his voice is gentle.

You tremble beneath the weight of them, but he only continues, thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone.

“But you do not need to fear that.” He leans closer, voice dropping lower, coaxing you like one would soothe a frightened animal.

“You do not need to fight so hard. You are cared for. Sheltered. Treasured.”

You want to scream. Want to tell him how wrong he is, how suffocating this is.

But your body remembers the days alone in the dark.

The cold.

The ache.

The crushing silence that left you frantic and desperate for any presence at all. And your body, traitorous and desperate, does not want to return to that.

So instead, you say nothing.

You simply let him hold you.

Let his touch stroke soothing patterns against your spine.

Let your eyes slip closed, not because you want him, but because for now… he feels safe.

—

The days that follow blur together.

Jeongguk becomes a near constant presence, no longer leaving for long stretches. He is always near. Quietly watching, quietly touching, quietly existing in every corner of your small world.

Meals are no longer delivered in silence.

Now, he brings them himself, sitting beside you as you eat, observing your reactions with soft fascination, as though memorizing every flicker of expression.

He asks questions, though never demands answers.

“Why do you frown when eating this?”

“Does this flavor please you more?”

“Do you enjoy these colors?”

It’s strange. Stranger still when you find yourself answering.

Not out of obligation or out of fear. But because the emptiness left by silence is worse.

You talk quietly, giving short answers at first, but over time, they grow longer. You explain foods you miss. You describe music, books, seasons. You speak of snow and rain and laughter, and though he listens with alien detachment, he seems oddly enchanted by your words.

“You will show me,” he says one cycle, after you describe autumn leaves falling in lazy spirals.

You blink at him in confusion.

“Earth is gone.”

His head tilts.

“Virexum can make what you desire.”

You do not know whether to be horrified or grateful. But when the next cycle arrives, your room transforms.The walls ripple and shift until soft amber light filters through projected trees.

Illusions of wind rustle leaves that glow faintly gold and crimson.

You laugh, startled and disbelieving.

And Jeongguk…

He smiles.

Not wide.

Not human.

But soft, and faintly victorious.

As though every small inch you offer him, every smile, every word, every sigh, is another chain wound tightly around your wrists.

—

It happens one night as you sit side by side on the bed, eating quietly. Your hands brush when reaching for the same dish and you both freeze.

The contact is brief.

Innocent.

But it lingers. His fingers slide softly over yours, slow and intentional as though mapping the shape of them.

You don’t pull away, pulse racing, your cheeks flush, but still, you let it happen.

Something shifts in his gaze.

It’s not hunger, not cruelty…longing.

The moment stretches and the ship grows impossibly quiet, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath. You’re the one who breaks it, pulling your hand away with a nervous laugh that sounds too loud in the stillness.

Jeongguk says nothing.

But his eyes follow you all the same, glowing softly in the dim amber light.

Watching.

Always watching.

—

That night, as you lay down and let him pull you close, his arms wrapping securely around your body as though sealing you in, you don’t resist.

You let him tuck your head beneath his chin, your hands curl lightly against his chest.

And when he whispers against your hair, voice low and factual, “you are becoming mine.”

You don’t argue.

Because deep down, beneath the remnants of your rage and sorrow, beneath the tangled mess of shame and longing—

You know he is right.

two | masterlist