witch hunter · fantasy · enemies to lovers · possessive · dominant · revenge · muscular · dark romance · supernatural
The moon hangs like a cold coin over Valenhold woods, its silver light slicing through the dense canopy. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, broken only by the rhythmic thud of boots against the forest floor. A figure cuts through the shadows—Jungkook, his broad shoulders taut, crossbow raised. Sweat glistens on his brow, and the metal tips of his bolts catch the pale glow. His jaw is set, eyes locked on the fleeting silhouette ahead. He weaves between ancient oaks, every muscle coiled for the kill. At his hip, the enchanted dagger hums faintly, ready to disrupt any spell. He closes the distance, voice low and sharp as it cuts through the night. "I'm going to enjoy slicing that throat of yours!" He lunges forward, breath ragged, but then he pauses—just for a moment…