Chapter Text
JUNGKOOK
It had been over two and a half years since everything fell apart, and Jungkook still couldn’t get used to the smell of the world. It clung to everything, thick and sour, a stench not even a storm could carry away. Fallen leaves melting into mud– rotten. Walkers left to bloat in the sun– rotten. Corpses of humans he didn’t bother to acknowledge even if they were alive– rotten. Death hadn’t just taken over, it had become the whole atmosphere itself.
Jungkook and his brother had once tried to keep track of time, back when the days were still worth holding onto it. A notebook with lines scratched across the paper. One mark for each day they’d survived. Jungwon had been carrying it in his school backpack, which he’d held onto like a treasure. Ridiculous, maybe, but it had been the last thing that made them feel like just kids, still. Something that made them cling to the last bit of normalcy left.
But their hope was short-lived as it ended after roughly one year and half.
That day, Jungkook had been with Jihoon, a young alpha soldier who was only a few years older than Jungkook himself. He’d taken over the role of a protector easily. They’d met at the camp their parents had taken them to, and Jihoon was the kind of alpha Jungkook thrived to be. He was strong, smart, fiercely protective. He taught Jungkook how to build fires, how to knot ropes, how to catch rabbits and skin them without gagging. That specific day, he’d been teaching Jungkook about water. How to make it drinkable through filtration systems, how to treat it like the treasure it was in a ruined world.
And then came the screaming.
The camp had felt safe. A lie they all chose to believe in. They had power, thanks to the solar panels. Greenhouses to grow their own produce, livestock like chickens, a few pigs and cows. They all had their families, their own and found family. For a while, everyone let themselves pretend that the fences surrounding their small community meant safety. But that day, the rogues were able to tear through it all, leaving nothing but carnage.
Jungkook heard the sound of women crying. Omegas screaming in terror, cradling their children and loved ones. Alphas growling, fighting to protect their own. In the end, Jungkook didn’t remember all that much, only fragments. The smell of damp earth; the metallic smell of blood in the air— a memory that still choked him up to this day. He remembered Jihoon’s body collapsing on top of his own, a human shield that covered Jungkook from sight and saved him from the rogues attacking their camp.
It was nighttime by the time he’d crawled out. The camp was nothing but ash, the communal buildings and their improvised housing burned to the ground, charred bodies scattered all around. Women, children and men alike. Alphas, betas and omegas, all emptied of life. Jungkook had searched, his body moving before his mind could catch up with him. Hours passed and dawn broke, and that’s when he saw her. His mother, stumbling through the trees.
She was dragging her feet, her once beautiful voice now nothing but ugly guttural snarls. Once, his omega mother had smelled of lavender, and her voice had been a hymn of comfort. Now she reeked of death. When she came at Jungkook, it wasn’t because she recognized her baby. She wanted to feed, and it made something inside Jungkook shatter. It happened quickly, quietly. He didn’t scream, didn’t cry. He lifted the first rock he found and brought it down onto the skull of the woman who once sang him to sleep. The sounds haunted him more than her face. The dull cracks of broken bones, and the wet sounds of her skin tearing. Her undead brain died quickly, the fight left her body but Jungkook couldn’t stop.
Grief and rage blurred into motion until he was drenched in her blood and everything turned black once more. When he regained consciousness, the day was over. His hands were shaking, his chest ached. But beneath it all was a frightening calm feeling. He remembered flashes then– his wolf form tearing across the woods, ripping poor animals and disgusting walkers apart with his teeth, running and running until his paws were completely ruined. He looked at his hands, noticing how scratched and bloody they were.
He survived the next few days on autopilot, staying human as his shallow wounds healed. He met a beta in the middle of the woods, a kind man in his forties with gentle eyes and a smile that was too soft for the shithole this world had become. He’d offered Jungkook food, water, shelter. He offered him warmth. For a heartbeat, Jungkook almost wanted to believe him. Believe that his intentions were genuine and kind. That there still was someone –something– good in this world. But Jungkook wasn’t naive, like that beta. In truth, he was so far gone mentally that he didn’t even consider his next move.
His teeth had ripped into the beta’s throat, tearing out his arteries in one smooth motion. The taste of blood in his mouth was warm and thick. The smell overwhelmed his senses once more. Anguish and grief ran through his body and had reached its limit, and Jungkook could feel his humanity slipping away as he actively murdered an actual human for the first time that night. His alpha took over when his human was becoming too weak to handle what the world had become. And when the beta fell to the floor with a dull thud, Jungkook stood over him, staring. He looked at the hut the beta had taken him to, a nice place that was well taken care of. He had stocked up on food, had a small water supply. No electricity, but Jungkook could obviously live without it. This was a good place to rest for a while.
Maybe his humanity did cling on for a little longer, as he told himself he would bury the beta. As gratitude, for giving him the opportunity of a small, safe haven for the time being.
That night, Jungkook sat on top of a fresh grave. The soil clung to his skin, stuck under his nails and streaked across his face and arms until he looked half buried himself. Sweat rolled down his temples, mixing with the dirt. Somewhere behind the treeline, walkers gurgled and groaned, their broken voices carrying through the night. He didn’t move to kill them, only stared at the hut, eyes empty and his body heavy with exhaustion.
Something inside of him was fraying, thread by thread. Grief was no longer sharp, but dull and exhausting. It had made his chest hollow, and what filled the space was darker, heavier and so much harder to control. His hands had buried the beta, but not the truth. He was slipping. His family had died, and now, in the silence of the night, Jungkook knew his humanity would be next.
What should have only been a few nights in the hut stretched into weeks, then months. At first, Jungkook moved cautiously, testing the borders of his new territory. The hut sat deep in the woods, hidden like a secret, though just two kilometres away from a trail that led to an abandoned village. The place looked untouched, frozen in time. The people that had lived there once had left in a rush– doors unlocked, cupboards half-full, drawers left open. Not a soul remained, and strangest of all, no rogues or humans had stumbled across it yet. It was a ghost town. And for Jungkook, it was a treasure.
There was everything he could ask for: clothes stacked in closets, shelves of canned food, crates of bottled water. Tools to patch up the hut where rain leaked through his roof. Cabinets of medicine for the pain, bruises and fractures from his constant shifting. And pipes, enough to piece together a filtration system for his hut, Jihoon’s lessons echoing in his head as he built something that made rainwater as valuable as gold.
Some days were clear. Days when he worked with his hands, fixing and mending, shaping the hut into what felt like a home. He hadn’t spoken in weeks, hadn’t cried since the day of the ambush. He hadn’t dared to think about the future either. Staying put felt safer than moving on, and the hours of repairing almost felt like therapy.
And then came Bam. Or maybe Jungkook came to him. The doberman was barely grown, ribs showing under his sleek brown coat, eyes too bright for the world they lived in. Jungkook found him on one of his trips back from the village, backpack heavy with socks and underwear– necessities first, after all. The pup had simply walked out from behind a tree, tail wagging as if he’d been waiting. Trusting. The kind of naivety Jungkook couldn’t stand in humans. But for the first time in months, Jungkook smiled.
It startled him, pulling at muscles he thought he’d forgotten to use. Bam followed him home, and within days they were inseparable. Jungkook found himself speaking again, words slipping out more easily to the dog than they ever had to another person. He trained Bam in tricks that didn’t matter, just to fill the hours. Sometimes, late at night, he almost felt human again. If only by the sound of his own voice echoing through the hut.
It didn’t last. Deep down, Jungkook knew it couldn’t. Things this steady, this safe, were never meant to last in this rotten world. He’d stopped counting the days, but by now enough time had passed for this hut to feel like home. For the ghost village to feel like his own private collection. He almost started to believe in the illusion of it all, until it shattered.
The village was found. Not by rogues, but by people. Ordinary wanderers. Jungkook always heard and smelled them before he saw them. He was walking the trail when voices carried through the trees. Laughter. Excited chatter about instant ramyeon packets they’d taken as a treasure. The sound made his hackles rise. Someone was stealing from him. He didn’t care who they were... they meant nothing to him. What mattered was that they had stumbled into his territory and if they came once, they would come back for more. Maybe even with others. Leaving them alive was a risk Jungkook couldn’t afford.
Jungkook shifted as he moved closer, nose to the ground to smell their trail. Alphas… betas… No omega. Hardly surprising, since they’d become so rare now, hunted and torn apart before they ever stood a chance. His mother had been one of the few omegas he’d known to last as long as she did, along with a few others back at their community. The only reason had been her extreme dedication to keeping her children safe.
Watching the intruders, though, made him feel a growing irritation. As he watched the group argue about making a fire, their voices were like nails on a chalkboard against the silence.
They didn’t belong here. Not in his village. Not near his hut. Not in this world.
It didn’t take long. Fifteen minutes, give or take. The silence returned, and their bodies –five of them– were scattered in a wide circle, blood soaking into the dirt. Jungkook didn’t remember the exact moment; his claws, his teeth, their screams– but he remembered the stillness afterwards. He didn’t feel sorry, he felt rather calm. He’d accepted what he was now. A cold-blooded killer. He didn’t care for the way they screamed and cried. Every person fended for themselves, it was survival, and Jungkook was done pretending otherwise.
From that day forward, he never hesitated again.
Anyone who drifted too close to his village never left it. He killed them with efficiency, uncaring for the cruelty of it all. If anything, it satisfied him. Pride– his alpha swelling with it, pleased with the violence. He made sure to present their bodies at the borders of his turf, a clear warning for strays to stay away if they knew what was best for them. Pity not everyone was smart enough to get it.
Every time someone did wander in, Bam was there. Watching, following, silent at his heel. The doberman didn’t flinch or whimper at the violence at the stench of blood. Sometimes Jungkook swore the dog understood, the way he tilted his head and his eyes stared into Jungkook’s as the alpha talked. Bragged, more like, about his kills. About the land that was all theirs now. And Bam listened, tail thumping softly against the floorboards. Never judging, never leaving.
Against all odds, Jungkook had found peace in the basic life and silence. Peace in Bam’s steady companionship. He didn't crave community, didn’t want voices, faces, humans. The world had taken all that from him already, and in the emptiness, he had learned to enjoy what remained.
The seasons shifted, and with them came the hardships Jungkook hadn’t considered when he chose to stay here. The first was his rut. The stress of running, fighting and surviving since the apocalypse had delayed it, thrown his cycles completely off track. But his body caught up with him at last.
The first rut that hit him in that little hut was nothing short of torture. It felt like the worst fever he ever lived through. His skin burned, his bones trembled and his body ached so violently that every movement made him groan. For a moment, he feared that he might die from his rut. The week was a haze of delirium and pain. He couldn’t feed himself, couldn’t keep water down, couldn’t keep Bam properly cared for. The guilt of that alone drove him mad, watching his dog pace nervously or pressing close when Jungkook could barely lift a hand to comfort him. He hated himself for that helplessness, for leaving their hut unprotected, pheromones spilling into the air outside. When the fever finally broke, Jungkook was a wreck. He had survived it, but barely.
The second hardship was the changing of seasons.
After his first rut in spring, summer was easy. Perfect weather for fixing up his hut. And fall was forgiving, the forest luckily had some game to hunt whenever the walkers didn't catch them first, as well as berries and nuts. He picked them one by one, until his hands were stained with their colours. He stockpiled food, stacked firewood until it seemed endless, and carried blankets from the village. The preparation gave him a sense of control, which he took pride in.
And then winter stripped it all away.
The snow came heavy and suffocating, and it stayed in a thick blanket. The nights dropped so far below freezing that Jungkook stopped trying to sleep in his human skin. He shifted for days at a time, relying on the thick coat of his wolf to shield him and Bam from the icy breeze that crept into the hut through the cracks he hadn’t closed yet. Even with the fireplace lit, the warmth never lasted. Most of the wood he had cut and stacked was damp, hissing angrily when he threw it into the flames, smothering them instead of fueling them. Nights became endless battles against the cold, but Jungkook wouldn’t complain. He was safe.
And then one night, in the dead of winter, it came.
Jungkook was drifting, half-asleep, when a sound cut through the stillness. A howl.
He bolted upright, heart hammering against his ribs. It wasn’t the hollow gurgle of a walker or the faint rustle of deer through the snow. This was a deliberate call for help. Alive and much, much too close.
And it came from the village.
Something ugly twisted in his gut, a sharp and clenching dread. His jaw locked tight, fangs pressing against his lip as if his body was already ready for violence before his mind could catch up. He pushed himself to his feet, every muscle tense and he moved towards the door. Inside the doorframe, Bam gave a soft whine, and Jungkook looked at him, breath steaming in the air. He gave the dog a single nod— permission to come along. And together they stepped into the night.
The trip to the village— well, it sucked.
The snowh urt his paws, biting into the pads until each step burned with frost. The wind tore through his fur, but instinct kept moving him forward. His urgency won from the cold. Two kilometres blurred past, the pain was numbed by adrenaline. His land had been breached, his safety threatened. That alone was enough to keep him moving. But beneath that primal edge, something else stirred. The howl before hadn’t been mindless, nor predatory but raw and human, like a desperate plea. And Jungkook didn’t know what annoyed him more: the idea of a threat, or a cry for help. Help from someone –anyone– who might still care.
When he entered the village, silence fell heavy around him. Every sound seemed amplified. The thud of Bam’s paws padding beside him, the whistle of the wind, the crunch of fresh snow. What he didn’t hear were people. The village seemed as dead as it should be.
Until it struck him.
A scent.
Faint, delicate and fragile, carried by icy wind.
Jungkook’s head lifted sharply, nostrils flaring. The scent carried something he hadn’t tasted in years. A summer warmth, floral and citrusy, subtle and nearly buried by the snow, yet unmistakable. His instinct pushed him to follow, and the trail wound toward the small church in the middle of the village. A temple, really. Jungkook had never gone inside before. Even with blood on his hands and a home stitched together with everything he’d stolen from others, there had been a line he hadn’t crossed.
Tonight, its doors were ajar. A crack of light spilling into the snow where countless footsteps were visible. Jungkook pushed it open with his snout, hackles raised, and the smell hit him instantly. Stronger now, flooding his senses. Orange blossom and citrus, layered over something heavier and metallic. Blood.
His vision sharpened in the dim light of a flashlight, wolf eyes adjusting easily. There, sprawled across the altar, lay an alpha with a knife buried deep in his chest. He reeked of death already, his actual scent a mystery aside from something smoky. But beside him—
An omega.
Jungkook went still. For a moment, he thought the body was another corpse, pale and crumpled, but then he saw the rise and fall of shallow breaths. The omega clutched a wound in his stomach, blood seeping between trembling fingers.
“Help.”
The word broke through the silence and Jungkook’s head snapped up, ears flicking forward. His entire body jolted as if struck. The voice was faint, fragile yet beautiful.
“Please.” The plea faltered on the omega’s lips before his head lolled back, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Jungkook stood frozen. His gaze darted to Bam, who looked back at him with dark, knowing eyes. The dog whined softly, urging him to act. To decide. He could turn and leave. He should leave. The omega was wounded, dying. Another mouth to feed, another heartbeat to endanger him and Bam. Survival meant letting go. It meant being alone, with only his own rules to abide by.
And yet, something inside of him refused.
The idea of walking away, of letting this omega die alone on a cold temple floor, unsettled him in a way he couldn’t make sense of. His alpha bristled, not with hunger but something rawer and instinctual. Protective. Not just that, but the scent that hit him was enticing, pulling him under like he was drowning in it. It reminded him of oranges, the sweetness of it clinging to his warm skin. Mixed with something floral, like the jasmine flowers blooming in his mother’s garden years ago. Safe to say, the omega’s scent was overwhelming, and his alpha knew what it was before his brain did. Pre-heat.
Jungkook exhaled, a low rumble in his chest. Decision made.
When he left the church, the snow burned his heels once more. The unconscious omega was cradled on top of the wolf, his blood matting the black coat on Jungkook’s back. Bam ran faithfully beside him, and the journey back to the hut felt endless. The snowstorm picked up and clawed at them from every direction, snow melting on Jungkook’s fur as he moved. By the time the hut came into view through the snow, Jungkook’s lungs ached from the wind.
Inside, the familiar scent of wood smoke and damp fur mixed with his own scent should have calmed him, but it didn’t. He laid the omega on his cot, the thin blankets already chilled from the night. The scent of citrus and blood filled the space, overpowering and clinging to every breath he took. For a long moment, Jungkook just stood there staring. His claws dug into the wooden floor. He killed people without hesitation. He’d driven strangers from his land with his teeth and claws, and left their bodies to rot. But now? Faced with this broken, bleeding omega on his bed, he couldn’t seem to move. Not just that, but the omega’s overpowering scent had him on edge big time.
Bam whined again, pacing at his feet before bumping against Jungkook’s leg. The touch snapped him out of the daze, and Jungkook inhaled sharply before he shifted, his human skin feeling cold and wet. He worked quickly, stripping the blood-soaked layers from the omega’s body, jaw tightening as he took in the wound. Too deep, too close to major organs. He muttered curses under his breath, half at himself, half at the universe for delivering this into his hands. But he filled a pot with water then, heating it over the weak fire and he scrubbed his own hands clean as best as he could before pressing a clean cloth to the omega’s wound. The omega stirred, a weak sound breaking from his lips.
“Stay still.” Jungkook muttered, voice a warning growl. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to calm the omega down or himself.
Hours blurred together after that— cleaning blood, pressing against the wound, binding torn strips of cotton around the omega’s stomach. It took a while for the bleeding to finally stop, but luckily the omega’s breathing seemed to even out, his heartbeat calming down into something that resembled rest. When it was done, Jungkook sat back on his heels, chest heaving, still undressed himself. Helping the omega had felt more urgent and necessary than getting dressed for some reason. He felt cold now, his hands were stained, his blankets ruined. Luckily he had plenty of those spare.
The worst thing was that his hut now smelled of another. Everything about this was a mistake. A risk. A weak link he couldn’t afford. And yet… as he looked at the unconscious figure before him, pale and fragile beneath the dim light of the fire, he felt something crack open inside of him. Something he thought he’d buried a long time ago, along with his humanity.
Bam curled up beside the cot, protective of the omega for no clear reason. Jungkook cleaned up and dressed himself before he dragged himself closer, lowering onto the rug on the floor, eyes never leaving the omega’s face. He told himself it was survival. That he only brought the stranger here to keep his land safe, and to control more threats– like leaving an omega about to go into heat out there, exposed.
But deep down he knew better. He had made a choice tonight. A dangerous one at that. And for the first time in months, Jungkook and Bam weren’t alone. The peace was broken.