Yoonmin Oneshots

The Price

Hiii :D

~~~

Jimin never thought he would ever get to this point. Never in his wildest imagination did he ever think that he'd be dropped to his knees in front of the devil, begging for a deal and negotiating with his own life. 

But he found himself in that exact situation, kneeling on the dirt and broken sticks of the forest floor surrounded by dead and gnarled trees, an expanse of midnight green stretching every way as far as the eye can see, fighting to finish the last step of the ritual. 

His heart was so twisted with grief, so utterly desperate, that he didn't care about whatever consequences his actions may produce. All he knew is that as soon as his drop of blood hit the center of the pentagram, there was no going back.

Jimin looked down at his wrist. The small, intricate crescent moon tattoo that he had gotten with Yoongi on their three year anniversary gleamed in the firelight. Fighting back a sob, he pressed a kiss to the skin of his wrist before digging the knife into the space below it. 

He cried out from the sting of the cut, hovering his wrist over the fire in the center of the pentagram, and the moment his blood hit the flame, the ritual was complete. 

The fire turned a burning red color, the carefully drawn lines of the pentagram lighting up scarlet and illuminating the dark forest with a haunting shade of ruby. 

A ringing filled Jimin's ears, but it was dark and low, and the closest thing he can compare it to is the terrifying sound of a black hole billions of light years away, growing ever nearer and ever louder. 

It filled his head, Jimin clutching his skull and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Then, it suddenly stopped. It stopped so abruptly, Jimin thought he imagined it all. 

When he reopened his eyes, his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and fear crawled up his throat. 

He was no longer in the forest. 

The cavernous space reeked of sulfur and despair, its walls pulsating with an eerie, crimson light. Jimin knelt trembling, his knees scraped raw against the jagged black stones beneath him. 

A slow, mocking clap echoed through the chamber, and a shadow unfurled itself from the darkness. The figure emerged with an almost casual grace—a being of infinite malice, wearing the guise of elegance. Satan's face was both impossibly beautiful and profoundly terrifying, his eyes twin voids that seemed to strip away Jimin's very soul.

"You mortals are so predictable," Satan drawled, a smirk curling at his lips. He circled Jimin slowly, the sound of his boots clicking against the stone floor. "Do you truly think you're the first to come groveling at my feet, begging for the life of a loved one? It's... touching, really. Almost charming."

Jimin's breath hitched, but he didn't move, didn't falter. "I don't care what others have done," he said, his voice quivering but resolute. "Yoongi—he didn't deserve to die. It should've been me. Please, bring him back. I'll do anything."

"Anything," Satan repeated, tilting his head as if savoring the word. "How quaint." He leaned down until his face was inches from Jimin's, the air between them crackling with heat. "And why should I care about your precious Yoongi? What makes him so special that I should trade his soul for yours?"

Jimin's eyes widened, his chest tightening with desperation. Memories of Yoongi flooded his mind—his quiet laughter, the way his fingers danced across piano keys, the warmth in his gaze that had always made Jimin feel safe. Yoongi had been his everything.

"He's good," Jimin whispered, his voice breaking. "He's so good. He's kind, talented, and selfless. The world needs him. I need him. Without him..." He swallowed hard, struggling to steady his voice. "Without him, I'm nothing. So take me. Let me burn. Let me suffer. Just... bring him back."