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still-with-koo · 8 months

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The Campaign | JJK

Series: Chapter One

summary: fortune has never been on the side of people like you. but when The City threatens your family, you set out to participate in The Campaign, a notoriously treacherous tournament with almost zero chance of survival.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 4,898

genre/warnings/rating: 17+; dystopian au; supernatural au; angst; some fluff; enemies to still enemies, maybe frenemies; enemies to lovers; swearing; descriptions/ mentions of violence; reader is in life or death situation; mentions of physical deformities; references to physical and emotional abuse; imbalances in power; some (poor) attempts at humour; the characters in this story are my own and do not reflect on the members of bts or anyone else. this is all made up and just for fun, please don’t take it too seriously!

a/n: it’s here! it’s here! a little late for our bestie’s birthday, but better late than never, right? :)

taglist: @jeonqkooks @chaotichuman0090 @smwhrinthehaze

masterlist | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3

The bell tower tolls midnight in the distance. Not that any of the townsfolk hear it, the sound faint in the wake of the ravages of poverty and famine.

Hunger makes the senses grow dull.

You blink your eyes open. The night is dark as coal and you can hardly make out where you end and the rest of the room begins.

Shifting in your place on the cool wooden floor, you tilt towards the soft snores coming from the cot beside you. Your mother is still asleep.

You let your hands wander across your quilt, feeling the stitching one last time, memories of your mother’s laughter as she sat by the windowsill threading together the patterned squares. Echoes of a simpler time.

You notice your palms are sweaty despite the coolness of the night and quickly wipe them off on your ragged clothes, pushing off the ground with the utmost stealth. You can’t risk waking anyone.

Your mother looks so calm under the flicker of moonlight seeping through the threadbare curtains. The lines of her face fade and you see the beauty she has always been and forever will be. You hope she can forgive you.

You glance a few steps behind her and see your younger brother, still as night itself, and you wonder if he is truly asleep. You don’t have time to check. He will keep this secret as he has kept all others. You whisper goodbye and hope his heart hears you.

Pressing a gentle kiss into your mother’s disheveled hair, you slip a note into her outstretched hand. She should know why the floor is empty when she awakens. You just hope she reads it before she wanders into the forest looking for you.

You’ll be long gone by then.

The forest looms ahead of you like a crouching dragon, dark and eery in the dead of night.

A chill snakes its way up your spine as you stare down at the vastness. The endless trees hiding terrors you have faced before, the pangs of hunger pushing you to find solace in its desolate depths. What lies beyond the outlines of the forest is beyond your imagination, however, having never set foot outside the grounds of Sector 17.

And if the folktales passed from one campfire to the next are true at all, those terrors are nothing compared to the terrors you will face at The Campaign.

You pull your cape tighter around your shoulders as you remember your mother’s muffled screams that night, her face buried into the topsoil after The City’s men discovered shortages in your harvest yield.

Let her go, you remember yelling with such intensity fire erupted in your lungs. Let her go, let her go, a chant you screamed until it was only noise. It was a frenzy in your mind. Nothing could stop you from tearing them apart, you thought. But you could only claw at their stone face armour before they pinned you down, too.

They threatened to take your younger brother to The Harvest as payment but your mother was crafty, hiding him away in a cellar you helped dig out two years ago.

But it is only a matter of time. They will be back for him soon.

You swore that night, and every night since then, that you will find a way out of this nightmare, even if it takes your last breath.

And The Campaign will do just that.

Like others in town, you have only heard rumours of what happens at The Campaign.

They say beautiful winged creatures roam the grounds and pick off combatants to devour whole. Giants hold you by your throat while the ground turns to lava beneath your feet. And one look into the eyes of a monster turns you to stone.

But these are obviously children’s tales, made up to deter others from joining The Campaign, a battle that promises the greatest riches to the survivor.

But you are not deterred. You need to be that survivor.

To pull your family out of poverty.

To protect your brother from The Harvest.

And to make sure you never have to bow down to The City ever again.

The air feels warmer within the confines of the forest.

A wistfulness falls over you as you look around. Even in the darkness you sense familiarity. These trees were good to you. Hiding you from the creatures. Teaching you how to defend yourself. And forcing you to grow up.

You spot a wild deer peeking from behind a tree. A low, dull whisper draws the deer closer.

Animals have always sensed your gentleness. If only they could sense your violence too.

The deer approaches you hesitantly.

You reach into your pocket, hand grazing the pocket knife gifted from your late grandfather. The sharpest blade, he said, is the most merciful.

When the deer nuzzles your side, you pull your hand from your pocket, revealing browse, consisting of a few stems and leaves you had picked from the ground.

A sound of a branch breaking sends the deer off and you replace the browse with the knife, glancing around the vicinity for any natural predators.

Or worse.

You are in the centre of a clearing and mentally kick yourself for being so exposed. Slinking to the side you survey the area. If anyone is around, they hide well.

Moments pass and when nothing happens you covertly snake your way through the forest. If you can leave the forest line, your journey to The Campaign grounds will begin.

You finally see the edge of the tree line. The very beginnings of light filter through the trees under the glow of twilight.

The last few hours passed quite quickly in complete silence. But you couldn’t help feeling an unmistakeable, lurking presence. Shaking off the feeling you pass through the tree line and look out into the lands beyond the forest.

Stretches of mountains line the horizon. This will be a longer journey than you thought.

You pass a quiet town on your way to The Campaign, taking extra care to avoid any and all eye contact. Only a few homes dot the mountain line and you were able to sneak by them mostly undetected.

You had pilfered a copy of the sectors map a few weeks ago and judging from its coordinates you only need to pass a couple more towns to get to The Campaign. The towns are arranged in a star shaped pattern and The Campaign falls at the northern vertex.

The folktales say The Campaign grounds start at the edge of the castle where the mountains kiss the Emerald Sea, a sea of demons littered with the souls of those stupid enough to traverse it. The map seems to confirm it.

You heard the stories. The sea with sparkling waters so clear you could see into its beautiful depths. But with one touch of the water your skin mottled on the spot, the poison finding its way into your veins and luring you in. Before long, you’re diving into the sea of your own volition, letting the creatures who live within swallow you whole.

Another shiver runs down your spine, but you shake it off. You need to stay alert. One step at a time.

You reach into your satchel for your flask and let your knees fall to the dirt, dipping the metallic container into the murky still waters at your feet, headwater ripe and free from the bright orange strings that plague the river near your house. These waters are safe, you reassure yourself.

Reaching into your satchel again, you dig around for some nourishment and groan when you feel the empty edges. Judging by the increasing drops of greenery along the mountain line, you are certain the sea is not too far now. But you need something to keep your energy up.

Slinking down into the limits of what you believe to be Sector 14, you notice patches of field far more arable than yours. A man stands in the distance, blue fabric hanging off his torso.

“Dania! Give me a—“

The man is interrupted by the cries of a woman. He runs towards the sound and you approach closer, ducking behind a barrel.

“Where are you taking him,” the man’s shouts come through and in the distance you see two heavily armed men in black combat gear dragging a boy barely older than your brother away in handcuffs. “Please! We are working overtime. You will get your grain!”

The City men pay no heed until the man throws himself on them. With a swift connection with the back of their gun, the man falls back.

Your mouth falls open. Your legs start to move towards the men without thinking and you make it a few metres before something tugs at your sleeve. Dazed, you look down to see a little girl, barely five or six.

Her eyes are round and frightened, and then a look much older than her age crosses her face. “They will hurt you,” she whispers.

You’re too bewildered to answer, your eyes darting from her face to the scene in the distance, your heart breaking when you see The City men shove the boy into a large black truck.

You want to run after them but the tug at your sleeve holds you back.

Then shouts come from a different direction.

“Briseis! Briseis!”

The girl gestures at a nearby house and you slowly back away to hide behind the barrel as she walks towards the sound of the voice.

An older woman leaves the nearby house and spots the little girl, running to her. The woman’s hands immediately cup the girl’s face and then pull her in for a hug. “You’re ok? You’re ok.” She holds her close to her chest but the little girl pulls away to look at you.

Slowly bringing your forefinger to your mouth, you pray she does not alert the woman to your presence.

Funny enough, you have made it this far mostly undetected. Now, your safety rests in the hands of a girl barely old enough to speak.

But you trust her. Why else would she stop you from running after The City’s men?

It takes you a moment to realize how reckless it would have been to intervene. Surreptitious travel is necessary. No one beyond Sector 10 has ever left their town limits without The City’s express orders. Those beyond Sector 10 are meant for The Harvest. And certainly not expected to join The Campaign.

How The City will allow you to join The Campaign is a matter for future you. Present you just needs to focus on getting there.

The girl’s eyes are still on you but the woman is oblivious, patting her head and speaking to her. The girl nods at her and lets the woman kiss her once more before turning to leave.

The girl is now walking towards you.

You freeze, staring as she approaches, her head twisting behind her momentarily to watch the woman enter the house.

She is more hesitant as she comes closer.

“Your name?”

Bending down, you smile at the child, hands falling to your knees as you nervously glance at the house again.

“My name is… Y/N,” you say, deciding that the truth is better than a lie. “Thank you for saving me.”

She smiles at this. She reaches into her pocket and takes something out of it.

Stunned, you grasp the piece of bread she holds out to you.

“Here,” she says, a seriousness settling into her dark eyes once again. “They said you will be hungry.”

Before you can say anything else, she interjects. “Go now.”

You watch her walk away, turning towards you for a split second to gesture you to leave. You swallow, sliding the bread into your satchel and running back up the side of the mountain.

You don’t have time to think about what the girl said or who they is. Time is running out; you need to make it to The Campaign grounds before the midday bell rings.

You’re very close to The Campaign judging from the map. Just one town left.

There are two options. You can either climb higher through the mountain or you can take a shortcut through Sector 10. You gaze into the sky and notice the sun inching nearer to the midway point.

Sector 10 it is.

You run down the side of the mountain and immediately see the very outlines of the town.

This town feels strange.

The path from the mountain twists into a road leading through trees, revealing large windowed buildings on the other side with signs aglow with the buzz of hope and electricity. Bright stone walkways open before them and people dressed in neon fabric traverse the streets with practised ease.

The colours are dizzying. The promises they hold, moreso. Places like this exist?

You hear honking and bells ringing. Small rickshaws weave through the bodies and you stare in amazement, having only heard about such motorized vehicles in folktales.

The stink of sweat mixed with a sickly sweetness wafts to your nose and you nearly gag. You pull up your cape around your shoulders and continue forward.

A cart nearly hits a man and a commotion breaks out. You approach the scene, hoping you can cut through the confusion unnoticed. A couple of uniformed men approach the scene at the same moment and you steal behind a large sign to avoid detection.

“What happened here?”

As the two involved argue over the occurrence, you take the opportunity to dash past.

“You there!”

The sound comes loud and clear and you know the uniformed men have spotted you. You slide under another boardwalk sign and bolt into an alleyway.

Sprinting through the dark, urine-stained concrete enclosure you trip over an empty bottle, a sharp sting in your shin nearly toppling you over. But it’s the dead end that stops you.

You scan the area. A ten foot high fence ahead. A dumpster to the left. And bricks to the right.

“Halt, Unauthorized,” they shout in the distance. You can see them pulling out their weapons. You don’t have much time.

You back up a few steps then sprint forward, hitting the edge of the dumpster with all your force. It springs you to the top edge of the barbed fence. Your hands ache under the sharp edges but with one leap you’re on top of the roof.

You glance down and notice the two armed men look from the dumpster to the fence and then to you. There is no way you should have been able to make that jump.

They point their weapons at you but you’re already running, sliding over a roof gable and rushing towards the far edge. They’ll be calling in reinforcements. You need to beat them.

From what you’ve memorized of the map, you can cut across the town area and reach the town’s edge in only a few minutes. You should be safe then - well, as safe as you can be now that The City is alerted to an Unauthorized venturing through town.

As the sun bears down angrily, you can’t help wonder if your mother has read your note by now.

“Can we eat yet, Mother?”

Your mother stirs as your brother’s voice grows louder. Eyes still closed, her fingers wraps around a paper in her grasp.

“I will see, son. Give me one—“

She gazes at the note at her fingertips, her chest seizing as she realizes what you intend to do.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

But it’s too late now. You’re almost at The Campaign.

Dear Mother,

When you awake, I will be gone. Please do not try to find me. I will come back to you both very soon. I promise. And I will bring with me riches greater than any we ever imagined.

Please stay safe. And please forgive me if I fail.

With all the love in my heart,

Y/N

“Get the Unauthorized! There!”

You can hear shouts over your shoulder as you dart from one rooftop to another.

Your foot slips and you slide roughly down a set of connected shingles, landing with a thud in a patch of greasy water, the vile liquid stinging your eyes.

Jumping up, you bound through another alleyway, shoulder brushing against the rocky wall. Your boots slap across the dirty puddled road, your pace almost as quick as your hammering heartbeat.

You feel for the map, considering whether you could stop for a few seconds to gather your bearings, but you decide to continue running, catching a left at the end of the road.

You come out into the town’s outer limits and come to an abrupt halt.

In the distance you see dots moving in one direction and you no longer need the map.

Looking to the far left, you see the mountains rise majestically to touch the orange sun now nearing its zenith and you become acutely aware of the impending mid-day bell. The stroke of the end.

“Catch the Unauthorized!”

Glimpses of the armed men appear over your shoulder and you break into a run. Unfortunately, with your muddy rags and bruised legs, you are not quite as fast as you should be.

Joints stiff and skin dripping wet, you narrowly avoid colliding into a group of men. The shouts of the armed men behind you grow louder as you skid to a stop before a glimmering blue sea.

The Emerald Sea.

A being hovers above the sea dressed all in black. The steely cold eyes catch you staring and a feeling of dread reverberates through your body.

“There! There!”

As if snapped out of a trance, you twist your head and catch sight of the entry gates.

But these aren’t ordinary gates.

Metal rises out of the ground in a series of spikes like the bars of a jail cell. Beside the gates stands the ruins of a towering castle, glimmers of a beauty that once held all the riches of the world.

But what catches your attention is not the castle nor the gate itself. It’s the line of heavily armed men dressed all in black, their guns at the ready.

You swallow.

Glancing back you choose the rock over the hard place, and this decision propels you forward, your legs pumping as fast as you can go.

But you aren’t fast enough.

A set of rough hands clasp around your shoulders.

Onlookers stop and crowd around as you struggle against their grasp.

“Stop! I’m here for The Campaign!”

Your words are drowned out in the rumble of the crowd as more onlookers gather around.

A voice booms behind the crowd and it falls silent.

“Who dares disrupt the peace?”

You continue to struggle in the men’s grasp as the crowd parts down the middle.

A very large man emerges between them. His beard is long and white, his face full and round. He has a cloak of gold and boots of silver.

The armed men start to speak, one letting go to provide the man a warrant for your arrest. “Mayor Danaus, we will take away this Unauthorized and leave your tournament to begin without delay. Here is the warrant.”

Mayor Danaus.

The leader of the City. The one who is responsible for your family’s woes, the one who seeks to bring children of poor families to The Harvest where they will waste away for the benefit of the City.

Cold seeps deeper into your bones and you stop struggling, instead letting your knees sag as you contemplate what they will now do to you.

“Enough,” Danaus says, raising one hand in the air. The City men stop speaking. “Rise to your feet, Unauthorized. Why are you here?”

As the hands around your arms loosen, you drop to the ground with a thud. Eyes blinking open, you place one unsteady hand on the wet soil before rising to your feet.

Your voice squeaks out a lot quieter than you’d hoped as you struggle to push words out through your parched throat. “I.. I am here to join the Campaign.”

When you look up at the large man, a gleam catches your eyes. There is someone behind him that sparkles brighter than all the chaos around you.

You blink again, wondering if you are simply imagining things, a mere hallucination like that hovering lady must have been.

“Funny child, do you wish to die?”

“I am not a child.” Those words bounce out a lot more easily.

His laugh bellows out unexpectedly and with it, more laughter joins in chorus. It’s raucous.

You wish to put your hands over your ears, but instead you focus on the wet cloth sticking to your skin. It’s much too loud in your head anyways.

“Alright, not a child, I will consider letting you join if you answer one question,” Danaus says, and you look up at him, watching his chubby cheeks peek out from beneath his beard. “What will you do with the prize money if you survive?”

Laughter breaks out once again, as if such an outcome is so unlikely to obviously be some kind of cruel joke. A mere mortal like you could never even hope to survive.

He, however, eyes you very closely.

Inhaling deeply, you look Danaus in the coal of his irises, defiance budding in your chest.

“I will make sure you and your men can never harm my family again.”

It’s suddenly quiet.

Too quiet.

And then the murmurs start.

Like buzzing bees you can hear words upon words exchanging between mouths as they circle you both.

Insubordination. The City can never let a mere Unauthorized speak to the Mayor with such blatant disregard for his position.

You half expect a slap across your face.

You most definitely did not expect his smile.

“Regardless of your years, you are indeed still a child. Only a child would speak with such insolence.” He claps his hands and the guards grab you again.

You start to struggle but then he speaks. “Take the Unauthorized to the entry gate. Such misplaced bravery needs an outlet,” he says, rubbing his beard, “and I like a show.”

He breaks off a gold bracelet from his belt and grabs your hand, which you attempt to draw back. He is stronger.

You watch as he slips on the bracelet carefully, his eyes never leaving your face. “Don’t forget why you came here.”

The guard’s eyebrow flicks up momentarily but when Danaus turns on his heel to head to the gate, the guard follows, dragging you to the grounds wordlessly.

It’s only when you’ve crossed the threshold that you realize the vastness of the Campaign grounds.

And the emptiness.

As if transformed by the gates, the land is suddenly barren, dotted only by a few straggly weeping willows that seemingly erupt from the ground. At the horizon, a forest looms wide and large, partially hidden by an expanse of fog.

The Emerald Sea mercifully only extends along one border with the ruin of a castle sagging at its edge. The rest of the land seems to be caged in by some type of metal.

Are they keeping you in — or something else?

Your mind quickly turns from the grounds themselves to the bodies traversing them.

They look… strong. And healthy.

Of course that’s not unexpected but standing among them, you realize now just how much famine can put you at a disadvantage. And how different a life these competitors must have lived compared to you.

Why do they even compete?

You watch them stride with the confidence you’ve never even dreamed of, clothed in shiny fabric and even shinier smiles.

They do not need the prize money.

“Uh—”

You feel the wind knocked out of you as you fall to the ground, glancing up to catch a cruel sneer.

“Watch where you’re going, filthy creature.”

It’s suddenly dark as a grotesquely large body eclipses the entire mid-day sun. You’re pretty sure giants no longer exist but this man must be a direct descendant.

His sneer breaks into a laugh as he walks away, muttering something under his breath you can’t even repeat to yourself.

You sit up, dusting off your clothes when a brilliant light in the distance catches your eye. That light transforms into a being as he emerges through a parting in the crowd, with skin the colour of honey, all aglow under a tunic that barely covers his torso. A being so beautiful he must have been sculpted with a practised hand. You look away, scared if you stared long enough you might catch fire.

As you stand, others seem to take notice of this sun incarnate and a buzzing ensues, suddenly consuming the grounds. Words float all around you as the man (for what other word could you use to describe him?) approaches.

“… that’s him…”

“Jungkook…”

“…bestowed with super strength by the heavens…”

You take a step back as he cuts the distance between you in half with only a few strides.

“…wait, isn’t he…?”

“That’s the Mayor’s son…?”

“…he is…”

He is Danaus’ son?

You turn away in disgust, arms crossing over your chest as you consider whether the universe really had to unleash the worst of bad luck for you.

The son of Danaus.

The one who has the strength of the world at his fingertips.

The assumed favourite to win any fight.

And he is surely to win this one too. The City will make sure of it.

The mirage you had built in your mind dissipates with this revelation as you expel both hope and breath.

You have no chance of survival.

Perhaps you could better serve your family another way. Surely, you are better alive…

You start walking towards the gates, turning his name over and over in your mind with despair.

Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook.

Danaus’ son.

You wish terrible things strike him down. For why should a man with so much already at his disposal have this opportunity too.

Greed. Men like him live on greed.

You are merely steps from the gate when you hear a boom. Followed by the staccato vibrations of the carillon.

The mid-day bell.

Loud gears screech and you watch as the large metal gates start to close. Bodies emerge in between and suddenly you hear screaming —is it your own?— as you shove them out of the way, a sea of large barriers of flesh to wade through.

A loud speaker crackles, but you don’t turn. Otherwise you would have seen a slender man adjust himself at the helm, his blood red hair glistening as he smiles at your desperation.

You finally make it past the entrants and launch yourself at the small, quickly disappearing partition left between the metal prongs.

“Welcome participants.” A clear and bright voice emits with a sickly sweetness as your face hits the metal gate. “You were free to come. But that is where your freedom ends. If you’re still breathing, that is. Welcome to the Campaign.”

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #dystopian au #supernatural au #bts au #52hertz #the campaign #lilo fics

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