strangers of the night (bts×reader)

chapter 1

July 10th, 2025; Day 1:

Ever since my parents got divorced, I had never seen my brother so genuinely happy. Family weekends used to be something we both looked forward to with anticipation. The sound of my mom's laughter, the jokes shared with my dad—those were the moments we cherished, even though we were never wealthy. Dad worked a nine-hour job for minimum wage, while Mom dedicated herself as a full-fledged nurse. But we made the most of the little things.

The last family weekend we had together was three years ago. I never knew what caused the rift, just that my brother packed his bags and left. And now, after all this time, we were celebrating family weekend with my mom's new family.

"It's just a little rain... We can't let it bother us... We're already wet anyway," I heard my mom shout over the roaring thunder.

It was supposed to be mid-July, the hottest time of the year, but the storm outside disagreed. The howling wind rushed past us, its voice a silent warning. Angry waves tossed our little boat from side to side, threatening to cast us into the depths.

Since waking up that day, a sense of unease had gnawed at me, my gut instinct warning me of something, though I couldn't quite grasp what it was. "It's not just a little rain, Mom. It's a full-blown storm," I said, nervously biting my nails.

We were returning from our picnic on Jeju Island, a beautiful yet secluded resort on the outskirts of Seoul, one of Mom's dream destinations.

"Don't be a mood killer, Raven. It's not—" My brother's words were abruptly cut off by a massive wave crashing onto our boat, dangerously tilting it. The rain poured down like bricks, blinding us to our destination. I gripped my seat tightly, panic and bile rising within me. I despised storms, and being out at sea in the midst of one was worse.

Without warning, our boat capsized. It happened so fast that my mind struggled to process the chaos unfolding around me. I reached out, trying to grab hold of the nearest person, but it was too late. The water rushed in, voices drowned out by the rain and my racing pulse. Grateful for my father's insistence on swimming lessons, I maneuvered my way to the surface, gasping for air. If it weren't for him, this could have been the last moment of my life.

I shouted, urging everyone to cling together, to swim to safety before our oxygen ran out.

Gripping my brother's hand, we fought against the currents, struggling to escape the overturned boat. It was a relentless battle, draining our energy, but we couldn't give up. We had to survive together. Who else could we depend on in this life-or-death situation?

After what felt like an eternity, we finally broke free from the capsized wreckage. We clung to the side of the boat, waiting desperately for help to arrive. There was no way we could make it to shore alone. I could sense the solid ground beneath us, so close yet agonizingly far away. Someone had to rescue us. They wouldn't abandon us, right?

As we waited, more survivors emerged from the water. I strained my eyes, searching for my mom among them. She was swimming toward us, her screams muffled by the torrential rain. Everyone remained in a state of panic, but I couldn't fathom why. That was until I noticed a small ring of pink encircling

her. She wasn't swimming toward us; she was desperately swimming away from something. She was injured, being pursued. And then I saw it—a crocodile? It made no sense. There were no crocodiles in these waters, especially not in the open ocean. But there it was, tearing through the surface, snatching my mom and dragging her beneath the waves. I tried to dive after her, to understand what was happening, but my brother held me back.

"We have to go," he said urgently, pulling me away. Minutes turned into hours, and one by one, we lost the others. We didn't know where we were headed; we just swam, driven by survival instinct. I was exhausted, barely conscious, but finally, my fingertips brushed against sand. We were almost there.

After hours of battling the elements, we finally collapsed onto dry land. The rain continued to pelt down mercilessly. The moment my feet touched the ground, my body gave in to exhaustion, crumpling to the earth. My brother, ever vigilant, scanned our surroundings. "We can't stay here, Raven... Something's terribly wrong," he said between labored breaths. And he was right. Something was dreadfully amiss. Unconscious bodies lay scattered, smeared in blood, serving as a chilling testament to the horrors that had unfolded.

"What happened here? What were those creatures that attacked us? Where are the others? What happened to Mom? Did she perish, or did she survive like us? She's a strong woman, a fighter. She'll be alright, she'll make it," I reassured myself, though deep down, I knew I was lying. I couldn't dismiss what I had witnessed in the water as mere figments of my imagination. No, I refused to believe my mother had become dinner for those crocodile-like creatures. She had to be alive. I was exhausted, my mind playing tricks on me. If we wanted to reunite with her, we had to escape this place. I believed in her; she wouldn't abandon us in the face of danger.

Summoning the last vestiges of strength, I forced myself to stand. Walking had never felt so arduous until now.

Silently, we treaded toward the mainland. No signs of living human beings met our eyes. The city felt eerily desolate. Even in the most catastrophic floods, there were usually people around. "Look," I said, pointing at a man a short distance away. He stood near a bus stop bench. I practically sprinted toward him.

To my horror, the man was drenched in blood, his chest torn open, deep claw marks marring his face. "Help me," he choked, reaching out to grab me. I froze, paralyzed by the gruesome sight. But my brother swiftly intervened, pulling me back behind him. "Sir, what happened to you? How did you get these injuries?" I heard my brother inquire.

What I witnessed next surpassed the boundaries of belief. Even though I had seen it with my own eyes, it was difficult to accept the unimaginable. Who would believe witnessing a man's chest being ripped apart? Who would believe seeing a repulsive creature crawl out of him, feasting on his flesh? The horror overwhelmed me, and I doubled over, retching onto the curb as dark spots danced before my vision. The last sound I registered was my brother's blood-curdling scream, shattering the silence of the night.

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Should I add more dialogues?
Should I make the scenes detailed?
Is it too fast paced?
Should I make it longer? 🤔🤔