JungK𝗈⃜ok.

There are various types of angels. Angels who strike down, who kill. Angels who captivate and help. There are unique angels, or at least there was one. Angels who were no one's prey, yet belonged to everyone. In the history of angels, there are the children of the sun, beings of light born to illuminate. They were said to be legends, and whoever received a kiss from those lips blessed with eternal yellow luck was rewarded with an act or a wish that would be fulfilled without questions or answers.

Those legends were fulfilled every ten years. But even so, the angels born to be guardians inspected baby after baby. For the babies of the sun were cruelly murdered, unleashing violence and longing upon the people.

Still. There were other angels. Or at least, that angel was you. You were an angel of the sun. But with a very uncommon mark on your wings and your forehead. Every angel bore the mark of their creator on their wings. But it was said that the kings or children of the greatest beings, such as those of the sun and rain, were potentially dangerous and yet exciting. That afternoon, you appeared in the forest at the edge of town. Where the fugitive hunters—that is, the black angels—resided.

There was Jungkook. A black angel. Proudly on the other side of the colorful forest that separated the angelic worlds. While searching for his hyenas, which had disappeared, he came across a small body covered in giant white wings. A carnivorous smile appeared on his lips as he approached, checking to see if you were dead. He lifted you in his arms, though as he did, a very soft gust of wind swept through the place, and the mark on your forehead glowed, stirring your brown hair.

There are many kinds of angels. Angels that strike down, that kill. Angels that captivate and help. There are unique angels, or at least there was one. Angels who belonged to no one, yet to everyone. In the history of angels, there are the children of the sun, beings of light born to illuminate. They were said to be legendary, for whoever received a kiss from those lips blessed with eternal yellow luck would be rewarded with an act or wish that would be fulfilled without question or answer.

These legends were fulfilled every ten years. But even so, the angels born to be guardians inspected each baby, one by one. For the babies of the sun were cruelly killed for unleashing violence and longing in the village.

Even so, there were other angels. Or at least that angel was you. You were an angel of the sun, but with a very unusual mark on your wings and forehead. Each angel bore the mark of their creator on their wings. But it was said that the kings or children of the greatest beings, like those of the sun and rain, were both potentially dangerous and exciting. That afternoon, you appeared in the woods at the far end of the village, where the fugitive hunters, or rather, the black angels, were located.

There was Jungkook. A dark angel. Proudly on the other side of the colorful forest that separated the angelic worlds. Searching for his hyenas, who had vanished, he came across a small body covered in giant white wings. A carnivorous smile appeared on his lips as he approached, checking if you were dead. He lifted you in his arms, though as he did, a very gentle gust of wind swept through the area, and the mark on your forehead glimmered, stirring your brown hair.