The Impossible Order | Ch. 8

The Impossible Order | Ch. 8

Summary line: Mr. Min is a stoic boss who will never outwardly show appreciation for you. Not until you’re gone does he recognize how much you do. And what you do matters to him.

ceo!Yoongi | best.friend!Hoseok | romance, fluff, angst, and stuff

Loosely inspired by Secretary Kim and this third bullet point of the prompt list

Start from the beginning | Last Chapter

A/N: I tried researching on Jubilee celebrations in Bhutan, because I tend to want accuracy in my stories so they can be realistic, however Bhutan is small and relatively closed off from the rest of the world. I got some great sources, but nothing complete so this may end up looking like a very westernized and/or fake celebration…

“Prince and Princess, Mr. Min is here with his entourage.” Bhutan security announces Mr. Min, Seokjin, and you into the private dining room of a restaurant near the palace.

“Mr. Min, it’s wonderful to see you again”, the Princess gets up to greet Mr. Min.

“Yes. Hello, Princess Jamphel. You remember Seokjin and Y/N.” Mr. Min gestures to you and his best friend by his side. The Princess greets you and Seokjin as well.

“This is my brother, Prince Loday. He did not accompany me to meet you the first time because he was working on other arrangements for other guests who are coming in from out of the country as well.

“Please sit, we have the chef recommended lunch here.” Mr. Min is led to his seat next to the princess on her left, you on his right. Seokjin sits next to the Prince.

Without any prompts or gestures, the food is brought in bronze plates by servants lined up as strict as the military. Perhaps it’s because Mr. Min and Seokjin have already eaten breakfast and you only had coffee so far, because you’re trying your hardest not to scarf down the food and eating with as much decorum as you can muster in front of royalty, while Seokjin and Mr. Min take their time to adjust to a different culture’s taste.

Despite most of your focus is on how scrumptious the food is, you’re still listening to the conversation; organizing the information in your head that the Prince and Princess is giving to the men, regarding culture and the process of the ceremony. You already memorized it all on the plane ride here, and debriefed your employer and his colleague. However, you’re pretty sure they both need a refresher; Seokjin because he generally requires 2-3 times to retain large amounts of information and Mr. Min because you can tell by the twitch in his hands that he is missing his lunch coffee and he needs a distraction. Seriously, this man may need to go to rehab for his caffeine addiction.

“Do you have any questions, Mr. Min? Mr. Kim?” The princesses brings her gaze towards Mr. Min and smiles at him.  Mr. Min nearly twitches as he smiles back at the princess and politely says, “I believe your information has been very thorough. It sounds like a wonderful experience; I’m very grateful that I get to witness this myself.”

“Absolutely. It’s not every day Bhutan celebrates a queen’s Jubilee.” The prince moves to a new subject, “Speaking of which, my sister showed me some pictures of the queen’s gifts. I must say, my sister made a wonderful choice to have the biggest player in the gemstone industry to be assigned to the task. My sister has always been a big fan of your work and she really wanted to meet you for a long time. She may be a princess, but you are her celebrity.”

The princess shoots a sisterly warning look towards her brother as he laughs it off. Seokjin is attempting to hide his shit-eating grin as he tips his glass back towards his lips and shoots his own look to his friend. Mr. Min’s hand retreated to his lap as he twitched hand even more. Seokjin is dead to him for the rest of the lunch now. Since you are clearly his only confidante in this situation, he resorts to having you break the tension. Mr. Min lightly kicks your foot, almost catching you off guard.

“Prince Loday, Princess Jamphel, I believe I read somewhere that your queen has been extremely forward thinking in solving the environmental issues within your country for the past 8 years, is that true?” Seokjin smirks at you because he knows Mr. Min put you to it to change the subject. The princess doesn’t look to mad at that either; quite relieved towards you actually.

“Yes!” The princess immediately jumps in to the conversation before her brother could chime in. Enough of this teasing; her mother has made some very important feats to her country.

“Unfortunately, our country being where it is, is at risk of being severely affected by global warming: forest degradation, soil moisture, and crop diversity, to name a few. My mother has been in diplomatic business trips to discuss with the United Nations for an environmental support program. We are aiming to implement a 2030 long-term vision strategy with the UN assisting us. My mother is very ambitious, she has been researching passionately, mainly in water resources for rural, urban areas.”

“That’s quite impressive. I do believe our company is also looking into self-sustaining energy by 2030 as well, but nothing as remarkable as leading a whole country through environmental issues. Congratulations to your mother. She’s an inspiration for making such a vital footprint for environmental wellbeing within Bhutan.” You exchange with Princess Jamphel. Of all the overarching projects you get to work with, self-sustaining energy has been a very interesting project for you.

“Y/N, please make a note to organize a sizable donation to Bhutan on behalf of Genius Design.” Mr. Min attempts to speak subtly to you, as it’s not supposed to be an announcement, but Princess Jamphel overhears his words and smiles, “Thank you for your contribution, Mr. Min.”

“Yes, Mr. Min. I will take note.” for Jungkook, you think loudly, hoping that Mr. Min can hear your thoughts and be reminded that after this, you are back on your sabbatical. Since you know it’s not possible, in your head, you’re underlining, bolding, and circling Jungkook’s name on your mental notepad.

“This is also Bhutan’s first Diamond Jubilee for any Queen Regnant,” Princess Jamphel returns to admire her mother, “Most queens are much older by the time their sons reach 21, so it won’t take long until the queen turns 65, but my father passed before my brother was born, so my mother had to become Queen Regnant for a long time. She will turn 65 in three years, and that’s when she will step down.”

Your watch blinks to you it’s notifications and you notate the time. You lightly pat the napkin on your lips, “Pardon my excuse, I will be leaving to fetch the ceremonial outfits now.”

You’re excused by the table and leave the room. As soon as the doors are closed behind you, you breath in and let out a huge breath, whipping out your phone to make a quick call to Hoseok’s hospital to check in on his status. No change.

~•~

Mr. Min has never been to a royal ceremony before, and this was definitely a cultural learning experience. He stifled many yawns over the course of the celebration; not that he was bored or the celebration wasn’t stimulating in his observances, but he was without his coffee in the past 7 hours. Between Seokjin’s subtle pokes at his side when it looked like Mr. Min could have given up his energy, and Y/N’s soft whispers in his and Seokjin’s ear about what was happening, who is who, and any details about the ceremony that wasn’t informed during the lunch meeting, Mr. Min was able to get through the ceremony without dozing off or stressing out.

The people of Bhutan had many gifts and blessings to offer to the queen since the beginning of the queen’s arrival. Prior to that, the queen had traveled through the main road to greet her citizens. When the prince and princess finally present the queen with their gift, it will end the beginning of the ceremony and move to an hour of prayer to their religion. The queen was beautiful and dignified as she took the steps up the palace and acknowledged the three of you on her way up, as well as all the other international ambassadors and dignitaries.

You watched as the queen passed the two of you and came up to her children, who bowed to her and unveiled Seokjin and his team’s work. Everyone you could see and feel within your peripheral were nearly climbing over each other and tiptoeing to see the crown jewels. Mr. Min also felt it because you also saw in your peripheral that he lowkey puffed out his chest in pride when you both heard whispers and gasps. Princess Jamphel took a glance at Mr. Min, also noticing his posture straighten, and smiled with a nod. Mr. Min nodded back and you felt him shift because Seokjin elbowing him which caused him to lean into you a little bit. You shot them both a look reminding them where they are and they refocused their attention towards the queen again. You whispered basic translations to Mr. Min and Seokjin to let them know what was going on and preparing them for what’s going to heappen next.

Prince Loday gently placed the crown on his mother and Princess Jamphel handed her the scepter and orb into each of her hands. There was a rumble of drums, gradually growing louder and louder as the queen slowly turned. There was a hard stop, which made you question whether or not you’ve gone deaf or not, and everyone bowed towards the queen. You’ve never been in the presence of royalty before but you felt the air filled with authority from the queen and respect from her people.

The prayer session was pretty individualistic in terms of how it went. Everyone filed in line at the bottom of the palace and slowly went in turns to recite their prayers and presenting offerings to the Buddhist alter table. The royalty did so and the queen prayed for her country at the top of the stairs. The three of you also took your turns at the bottom of the steps too. You went first because you learned the mantras and said it to a certain volume that wasn’t disrespectful to others but Mr. Min and Seokjin can both hear it.

Since you were a little hasty this early afternoon eating the Bhutanese cuisine, this time you could really savor the flavors. Bhutan quite likes their spice because almost every dish had chilies and absolutely full of spice that you can taste in each part of your mouth. Normally you’re not much of a spicy person. Yoongi side-eyes you because he knows this all too well from client lunches and dinners and secretly spooned the spicy dishes from your plate onto his. Although you looked at him with gratitude, you at least took a spoon back and looked at him; letting him know by your eyes that you want to at least try everything in order to be respectful. So instead, Yoongi poured all three of you some water, deliberately placing yours in your hands. You were quite grateful to him for that as well because you needed a sip after one bite of each of the foods. At some point, Yoongi just wordlessly brought the rest of your food back on to his plate.

After the dinner, a series of dances were prepared for Her Majesty, similar to that of a parade, where groups of people danced through the crowd, each group wearing a different color. You couldn’t help yourself but record some of these dances since it didn’t really seem like there was a restriction towards it. Seokjin also joined you in it and shared his powerbank with you too. That’s when Yoongi couldn’t help himself to shake his head and you and Seokjin, but he couldn’t stop you two, especially seeing how happy you two seemed to be and chatting pointing out certain movements or outstanding dancers. The daylight already settled down and fire posts were being lit for people to continuing viewing the performances.

The arts and crafts celebration portion were where the citizens craft important symbols and animals of their culture. This lady provided instructions to children on how to fold, color, cut, and glue the different crafts they could make. You three were standing at the back of the table, watching the lady’s directions so you guys could follow along, since the rest of the adults clearly already knew what to do. You made a takin, Mr. Min made a raven, and Seokjin made the Himalayan blue poppy. The three of you lowkey started reverting to childlike behavior, as you are surrounded by children who are also playing with you all; you started making skits with the animal that another child made next to you. Mr. Min and Seokjin joined in and the child directed the play between all the animals.

The child clearly took a liking to Yoongi, because she lowkey pushed you away to stand next to him and act out her raven and his raven is going through a marriage ceremony, with your takin officiating the ceremony, making you and Seokjin giggle nonstop.

You went to get some water and Seokjin continued playing with the children while Yoongi found a way to redirect the child to playing with Seokjin as well. Taking a glance back to the child to make sure she didn’t follow him, he searched around to find you taking a sip of your water and came to your side.

“Shouldn’t you be with your new wife?” You teased, lower your cup while he poured himself his own.

“Shut up.” You both shared a lowkey awkward silence and continued sipping your cup. Or at least, you felt it was awkward as you were slowing drinking your water, figuring out what to say next because Yoongi is just staring at you from the side of his cup.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He noted. Your cup tilt back as you turned your head to watch people enjoy the cultural festivities.

“I mean, it’s been fun! A lot of cultural learning, beautiful dances, good food (but a bit spicy for me, but it was still good!), and the queen seems awesome!” You gushed at everything you’ve learned and experienced about the culture. Yoongi lightly smiled towards you, “I’m happy that you’re enjoying yourself.”

You looked up at him, your expression turning neutral, trying to hide your surprise. You knew he was looking at you! Every 20 minutes, you caught him glancing towards you since you lined up to wait for the queen.

“I…I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay for this trip.” Yoongi begins, “I know that this trip happened abruptly. I know you’re going through a lot personally. But if you’re at least enjoying it, I guess that’s all I can hope for while you’re here.”

There’s no way that he’s been worried about you. There’s no way that he’s been silently checking on you. Your expressions, your looks, your physicality if you’re too tired or not. The way that you’ve been carrying Seokjin and him on your back trying to make them presentable to royalty. The way that you’ve been taking care of him on the plane and car rides here. He knows you probably haven’t slept more than 3 hours at a time with the hectic schedule that you’ve had all day. He knows that this water break is almost the first time in the past 10 hours that you took a break at all. There’s no way that he’s been watching you for this reason.

Your cup nearly slips from your grip but you’re able to catch yourself. Although it was slight, Yoongi also saw it and instinctively shoots his hand out to grab it too. Your hand feels his warmth as he secures your grip.

Over the course of these years, you’ve had countless training on deescalating sexual tension between you and your boss. 7 accidental gentle touches when you both reach for the same file. 8 times where he catches you when you almost fall; 3 times where he catches himself before he falls with or against you. Twice where you were both stuck in an elevator for 2 hours. And a few times where he was feeling extra cheeky for no reason. Even last night when he flirted with you in the airport; it wasn’t your finest evasion technique, but as long as the conversation ended quickly, that’s all you an ask for.

You would never let yourself be caught in this situation where you get the awkward, sexual tension silence, especially not with your boss. Each time, you quickly move yourself away and return to the original conversation. Normally you wouldn’t really think anything of it, as you feel like it’s part of your job. He probably doesn’t even notice or feels the tension on all those times, so you’re not worried about him. It just helps you continue going through the day without staring blankly into space thinking about it.

Despite his intense gaze that heats up the back of your neck, your professional will is stronger and today is no different. As the moment his hand envelops yours, you bring your other hand up to take the cup and take another sip. But this time, you’re pretty sure Yoongi finally caught what you were doing and quickly withdraws his hand too. You ignore it to the best of your abilities and look away, “I appreciate the concern, Mr. Min, but I’ll be fine.”

His stare is burning through the side of your head but you shake off the feeling before that feeling of awkwardness resurfaces. Luckily, both of you are saved by the ringtone before you have to change the subject or Yoongi is able to process what just happened to everything that just happened.

“Excuse me, Mr. Min.” You quickly turn away from him and everyone to take the phone call. There is quite a bit of background noise from the festivities so you walk away further to take the call.

Yoongi tilts his head as he looks at your retreating figure and looks up just in time to see Seokjin staring back at him with the shittiest-eating-ass grin he’s ever seen in his entire life. Yoongi is just about to raise his most used finger towards his friend before a new voice captures his attention.

“Mr. Min.” Yoongi turns forward to see Princess Jamphel looking careful to find her words, “I wanted to know if you’d be interested in staying for the rest of the weekend for some more of the festivities. There will be some horseback riding, kite-flying, and games.”

“I –”

“Mr. Min!” Princess Jamphel and Yoongi looks up at the same time to see you running towards him. You bow to the princess before you turn to him, “I have urgent business to return home immediately.”

“What’s goin –"

“It’s personal.” Knowing what that means, Yoongi nods, “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Your figure escapes his vision in the darkness, making him feel like, for the first time, that you’re leaving his side. He almost forgets, “Mr. Min?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Would you like to stay for the rest of the weekend?”

“Apologies, princess. Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to. Please let your mother know that Genius Design would humbly accept another chance to work with the country of Bhutan. Please excuse me and my associate, we must cut our trip short.” Yoongi bows and turns away from the Princess, Seokjin following quickly as he’s been observing the whole thing.

The princess turns away from Genius CEO, and returns to her brother’s side.

“So? How’d it go?”

“I was not wrong.” The princess wipes away any disappointment on her face and returns her neutral but dignified expression towards her people, “He likes her.”

~~

Back at the hotel, Mr. Min comes by to visit your room to see if there’s anything he can do to assist you, but it seems that you have already checked out.

“Did y/n get a chance to tell you why she had to leave?” Seokjin asks, one of his hands are in his pockets as he drinks his water.

“She only said it was personal.” Seokjin slowly nods and says his good night before he returns to his own room.

If only he were able to speak to you, Yoongi would have told you that he’d return with you. Since you’re already gone and everything else is laid out in the original plans, it seems like he’ll be leaving in the morning, at least 10 hours after you. Yoongi sighs and falls on his back on the bed with his hands supporting his head; replaying in his head the last 5 minutes he’s had with you tonight.

There are only so many reasons that would take for you to leave his side. And the only one that he goes back to, is that your friend is awake.

Candy Cane | Mafia!Namjoon

Summary line: Christmas Prompt #19: Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud.

(edit: Because I have a very clear idea of his home in my head, I decided to create it. The links you see as you read (just 3) will give you the perspective. Click it if you want, but if you choose to see his home with your own imagination, just don’t click on the link. The people you see in the room are supposed to be y/n and Namjoon, but it’s just a stand in so you know where the person is looking at.)

Namjoon sighs as he finally returns home after countless nights in the administration office. He’s pretty sure that a bit of cocaine powder is still on the underside of his black leather shoes and dried blood underneath his fingertips. He’s dead tired, but he’s still a clean man, so God forbid he walks into his home with cocaine powder.

He wipes his shoes down on his white welcome mat that contrasts against the black tiles of his entryway. It’s not really used to welcome people as much as it’s to disguise cocaine powder. The white mat is perfect disguise to hide the powder. But he’ll still have to wash it tomorrow.

He walks over to his fridge to check for any food. He has expired raw meat and old vegetables. He can still eat the vegetables, but he never had, and never will have, a meal without meat. He’ll go to the store and cook tomorrow on his day off; he’s too damn tired to cook now and there are no microwavables. Food delivery should be good enough tonight.

He loosens his tie and gets ready for a bath. He strips away all his clothing and relaxes himself into the tub. He looks at his own finger nails and starts to dig out the dried blood of his enemies as he meditates on his actions today in silence.

You know, maybe the screwdriver was a bit much. A bullet next time? Nah. The guy deserved it. A bullet is too fast, too simple. In light of Christmas, I should give it a little more oomph. Namjoon chuckles at himself at his twisted way to “celebrate” Christmas. There’s no Christmas. Never was, never will.

In these days, people come home to Christmas lights, trees, presents, and milk and cookies.

He’s a minimalist who doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Other than the lights already installed into his walls, there’s no other lighting in his home, if he can even truly call this a home.

Christmas trees are dirty and difficult to manage.

And that decorating crap? Forget that.

He doesn’t need gifts. He just takes what he wants. Those aren’t gifts; although, his victims offer to him what he wants on a silver platter because they don’t want to die. So, does that count?

He doesn’t give gifts to anyone. The closest people in his life are his boys, and his gift to them every night is not shooting them. He’s been more than merciful, benevolent, and generous by that alone; he doesn’t need Christmas to prove that.

He doesn’t believe in God or Jesus, so what’s the point for him to celebrate Christmas. He’s not the feeling type to spend “quality time” with anyone so why celebrate with or for anyone? There’s nothing to celebrate. It’s just another day.

All these list off in his head as reason why he shouldn’t celebrate Christmas, as if reminding himself he doesn’t want to.

But irony decides to greet him tonight, accompanied with obnoxious persistence.

By his fourth finger he cleans, music begins to play. But not in his home. And even if he were to play music, it’s definitely not this damn noise.

Christmas music? Christmas carols? You’ve got to be fucking kidding. He rolls his eyes as he looks above to the ceiling.

And in the bathroom too? I hope you slip and fall when you try to dance in your shower.

The phone rings and he calls out to his technologically-advanced home to answer the call. He tries to yell over the music, “Turn that fucking noise down!”

“Boss?” He hears Hoseok clear his throat.

“What?” He growls, glaring at the ceiling when the music does not desist.

“I’m coming by to hand you the package. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Namjoon looks at himself soaking in the tub.

“You make that an hour.” He commands.

“Okay? I’ll be there in an hour.” Hoseok is about to hang up, “Oh, and doesn’t your neighbor know your rules?”

“Apparently he forgot.” He rolls his eyes. He thinks the music just got louder as it changed from one song to the next.

“God damn it. I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to remind him.”

“Killing him isn’t reminding him. That’s just ending the poor bastard’s life. Come on, in the spirit of Christmas, let him live.” Hoseok laughs. Namjoon rolls his eyes. If any of his boys could be close to holiday person, it would be Hoseok.

“Poor bastard? He should have seen this coming. I’m the poor bastard who has to deal with shit people who don’t listen. Christmas, or any holiday for that matter, is never a reason for leniency.” Namjoon hangs up with a growl. He clenches his teeth when he looks at his tub that’s filled to the brim. Damn water is wasted on this idiot.

He gets up and drains the water. He dries himself out and quickly puts on some clothing. He stomps around his house to his drawer and roughly pulls it out. There’s a mass of choice weapons. Bronze knuckles, guns of all types, knives, daggers. Namjoon looks at all of them and then at his hands.

He’s angry enough. He can probably finish the “discussion” with his bare hands.

Every step is heavy as he makes his way one floor above him. He memorized the residence number above his place. And if that isn’t enough, the music is louder up here.

He clenches his teeth and groans. When the man opens that door, the music is going to amplify by ten-fold. He pounds on the door and steps back, wishing that the space would become a sound barrier, but he knows it won’t.

When the door opens, it’s not the scrawny man he’s expecting, it’s you. And you is dressed in a short silky red robe and he can see a bit of a silky white night slip underneath. Your hair is slightly tussled, half-dried, and pushed to one side to reveal your neck. Why, the closest he’ll get to Christmas spirit is to compare you to a candy cane. What a delicious candy cane. But also here at the wrong place and wrong time.

“Where’s Yeonseok?” He asks you with gritted teeth. You’re not the one he’s looking for, but damn, he wished he was.

“Sorry? Um, I’m new. Are you looking for the previous owner?” You ask politely. You’re a new resident? And he wasn’t notified by the property manager or you? He thought he had an understanding with the property manager. Anyone who moves above, below, left, right, front or back of his home, he is to be notified so he can make discuss his rules with them. Looks like he’s going to have many tedious conversations tonight.

“I live below you. Didn’t the property manager tell you that if you move in within my area, you need to answer to me first?” He asks. You sense something tense about him, but you don’t recognize it as intimidation. Just a grumpy man who has a really rigid structure.

“Yes, I am aware. But I’ve been here for three weeks now, and I try to come down every hour I’m home. I haven’t been able to catch you. I am aware that you have strict rules, and I’m willing to discuss them with you. It’s just always been bad timing.” You explain yourself. With a rigid structure, you’re pretty sure he’s not an excuse kind of guy. But you also hope he’s reasonable enough to recognize the difference between excuses and reason.

He sighs and steps in. He leans in close to you, “Turn off that music and come with me. We have a few things to discuss.” You shiver and he smirks at his effect on you. But he’s mistaken; it’s just the draft he’s creating in the entrance of your home. You go and turn off your music.

“Let me change first, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“No. Come now.” Besides, he doesn’t mind you dressed like this. Not at all.

“I can’t go into another man’s home dressed like this.”

“You open the door to your own home dressed like that. Now, you can wear whatever you like in your own home, but you’re lucky someone with more restraint and respect knocked on your door. Now come along. No one’s going to eat you tonight. Unless you want me to.” You wrinkle your nose in disgust but he’s already out of sight, expecting you to follow him. You sigh and slip on the easiest shoe you’ve got.

You follow him down with your arms crossed over your chest the whole time.

You enter into his home and see that everything is just black and white with minimalist furniture. He sits at the center of his couch. He crosses his leg halfway over his other one and spreads his arm to the back of his couch. You’re not about to sit next to him when his arm is spread like that, but you really don’t want to stand in front him like this. You opt to his kitchen counter and lean against it with your arms still crossed.

“You’re not allowed to have parties, music, or loud animals into your home. Wear socks at all times so I don’t hear you walking around. Your media volumes are never to go above 40%. Don’t sing. Don’t dance. I don’t think I have to tell you this, since it’s basic home care, but if there’s anything wrong with your home, fix it automatically. A floor creek, a wall crack, plumbing issues, all of that. I don’t need those noisy issues disturbing me. You better not have a squeaky bed. Oh, and don’t you dare have sex. Find a guy who’ll take you back to his place. Your standards must be high enough to find someone who’s not living in his mother’s basement, right?” You uncross your arms in disbelief and your jaw drops.

“Are you going to pay my rent? Are you my boss? Are you going to pay for any of my losses or things I would have to fix if any of these issues cost money? If not, I don’t see why I would have to comply with any part of this deal based on your preferences. I can tell you’re a guy who likes his silence, and that’s fine, but these are unreasonable.”

“Did I ever say this was a deal? No. This are simply rules. If you don’t like it, move.”

“No, I like it here. It’s been just fine for the past three weeks. And besides, evident through the fact that I couldn’t even find you for three weeks, you’re rarely home. I’m not going to tiptoe around my home for someone else’s unreasonable demands, especially for that someone who isn’t even home.”

“How’s this offer? If you comply, I will not kill you.”

You raise an eyebrow and roll your eyes, “You don’t scare me. I’ve been through a lot. Even dressed like this, you won’t even get to touch me.”

“Is that a challenge?” He smirks. You glare him down, “No. It’s not. Don’t even try.”

He shrugs but his obnoxious smirk won’t wipe off his face.

“If we can’t agree, then you’re going to have to move.”

“I’m not moving because we can’t agree!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Then you’re going to have to agree if you stay.”

“I’m not going to agree to anything with you.” He sighs and throws his head back in frustration. There’s really only A or B with him. Why can’t you see that? Does he really need to go to C?

“Look. I’ll agree to reasonable home care, and that is it. I’m going to sing, I’m going to dance. I’m going to play all my damn music however I want. Here’s how I can meet you halfway. I can tell you early on if I’m going to have company. My family is visiting for the holidays, so for at least a week, I’m going to have company. I’m planning to get a cat, so at least it’s not a loud animal. I already don’t have a squeaky bed. I’m not going to wear socks at all times based on your request because I walk lightly enough. Besides, didn’t you just say I’m allowed to wear whatever I want at home? A-and that sex thing? It’s not going to happen, so don’t worry. At least not for a while.”

Namjoon studies you for a bit and then turns presses his lips downward, “Nah. No. Not good enough. Don’t sing, don’t dance, and no music. Get your family to stay somewhere else. Wear your socks because safe than sorry. I’m allergic to cats, so no.”

“You’re ridiculous! Did the previous guy leave because he couldn’t keep up with your demands either? Are there anyone who lives around you anymore, you lonely and rigid soul?!” He glares at you for so long and so hard you look down and apologize quietly.

“You are never allowed to speak to me like that again, you understand?” He threatens lowly. It’s the first time that you agree with him as you slowly nod.

You two don’t speak for a while.

“Now.” He begins again, just as low and threateningly, “Are you going to listen to what I have to say?” you clench your teeth but make no other move.

He takes that as affirmative so he begins to speak, “Get. Your family. Elsewhere. Carpet your floor so you can avoid wearing socks if it’s really that much of an inconvenience.”

Your eye twitches. How is that any less of an inconvenience?

“Don’t sing, dance, play music, or any loud sounds above 40%, or I will swear to fuck, that you will regret it. Do you understand?”

You clench you hand and look at him, “I apologized for my behavior already. Just because that was wrong of me does not mean I’m going to magically cooperate. I want to do what I want to do in the comfort of my own home. We don’t know each other. It’s unreasonable for either of us to meet such demands to accommodate one another. So no.”

He gets up so fast, you jump. He quickly makes his way to you and traps you against the counter between his arms.

“I’ve been very patient and cordial with you longer than I have with anyone for the past 15 years.” You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down. He can’t possibly be past his 20’s, “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have known that. I’m so sorry. That really changes my decision since you’ve shown such manners. Oh, wait. No, it doesn’t.”

He has his hand around your throat before you blink and tightens his hold on you, “I have no qualms killing a woman. Believe me.”

You quickly take your elbow and jam it into the inside of his arm, making him drop his hold on you, and you push him away.

“I said. You. Don’t. Touch. Me.” You glare at him. For the first time tonight, he wears a different expression on his face other than anger, frustration, or lust. It’s amusement.

“You know, you’re about as threatening as a baby rabbit. Ah, no, no. That’s too much credit. An ant. You’re about as threatening as an ant.”

You glare at him and he shrugs in amusement. The phone rings and he takes out his phone to answer it. He’s not about to have his mafia business be heard over by some candy cane.

“I’m here boss.” Hoseok says.

“Come back tomorrow. I’m taking care of my neighbor.” He watches you cross your arms.

“That’s still not over? Do you need a clean-up crew?”

“No, it’s fine. Just go.” He hangs up.

“It looks like we aren’t going to come to an agreement here.” You purse your lips together.

“Doesn’t look that way.” You two have a stare-down.

“Look,” He starts, “See if there’s another empty space in this building. One that’s not around me and we can avoid the mess. At least you don’t have to move out of the building.”

“You’re no different from a spoiled brat. You need to understand that you can’t have people doing what you want all the time!” You unfold your arms, “Especially strangers. You give me no reason to listen to you.” He sighs and walks away. You hear a drawer opening and slamming closed. He comes back with a gun and he’s twisting on a silencer.

You clench your teeth and fists.

He stands in front of you and points it point blank at your nose.

“Move, agree, or die. There is no door four. Personally, I’d choose door one or two.”

You make no move and he tilts his head. You must have really gone through something bad for you to not show fear, not in your eyes or in the air around you.

“I’ll move to somewhere else in this building. You rude piece of -.” You bite back your last words. You make your decision based on rationale that this is going nowhere. You’re not afraid of his gun, but it’s your self-preservation instincts. So, this is the only time you will ever let it go. You hate letting him think he’s won. You really, really do.

He smiles distortedly and presses his gun at your nose and points it upward so you look like a pig.

He sighs inwardly. You’re still a candy cane.

“It’s okay. Self-preservation is only human. I don’t blame you. I’ve seen a lot of people give in for that reason. But I’ll give you more credit because you’re not nearly as cowardly.” He chuckles. But he’s still mocking you by pushing your nose with his gun.

You dare to push his gun away and shock almost surfaces to his expression.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch.” You cross your arms and walk out of his apartment. He has his eyebrows raised in full amusement.

He realizes a couple things.

One, you two never exchanged names.

Two, he really wants a candy cane right now. And he’s probably going to start liking them as the only sweets he’ll eat in his life. And that sucks because it’s only going to sell seasonally.

And three. Damn. He likes you. He really likes you.

And that is the story of how Kim Namjoon, a mafia boss, gets the closest he’ll ever get to Christmas spirit.

Candy Cane | Mafia!Namjoon

Summary line: Christmas Prompt #19: Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud.

(edit: Because I have a very clear idea of his home in my head, I decided to create it. The links you see as you read (just 3) will give you the perspective. Click it if you want, but if you choose to see his home with your own imagination, just don’t click on the link. The people you see in the room are supposed to be y/n and Namjoon, but it’s just a stand in so you know where the person is looking at.)

Namjoon sighs as he finally returns home after countless nights in the administration office. He’s pretty sure that a bit of cocaine powder is still on the underside of his black leather shoes and dried blood underneath his fingertips. He’s dead tired, but he’s still a clean man, so God forbid he walks into his home with cocaine powder.

He wipes his shoes down on his white welcome mat that contrasts against the black tiles of his entryway. It’s not really used to welcome people as much as it’s to disguise cocaine powder. The white mat is perfect disguise to hide the powder. But he’ll still have to wash it tomorrow.

He walks over to his fridge to check for any food. He has expired raw meat and old vegetables. He can still eat the vegetables, but he never had, and never will have, a meal without meat. He’ll go to the store and cook tomorrow on his day off; he’s too damn tired to cook now and there are no microwavables. Food delivery should be good enough tonight.

He loosens his tie and gets ready for a bath. He strips away all his clothing and relaxes himself into the tub. He looks at his own finger nails and starts to dig out the dried blood of his enemies as he meditates on his actions today in silence.

You know, maybe the screwdriver was a bit much. A bullet next time? Nah. The guy deserved it. A bullet is too fast, too simple. In light of Christmas, I should give it a little more oomph. Namjoon chuckles at himself at his twisted way to “celebrate” Christmas. There’s no Christmas. Never was, never will.

In these days, people come home to Christmas lights, trees, presents, and milk and cookies.

He’s a minimalist who doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Other than the lights already installed into his walls, there’s no other lighting in his home, if he can even truly call this a home.

Christmas trees are dirty and difficult to manage.

And that decorating crap? Forget that.

He doesn’t need gifts. He just takes what he wants. Those aren’t gifts; although, his victims offer to him what he wants on a silver platter because they don’t want to die. So, does that count?

He doesn’t give gifts to anyone. The closest people in his life are his boys, and his gift to them every night is not shooting them. He’s been more than merciful, benevolent, and generous by that alone; he doesn’t need Christmas to prove that.

He doesn’t believe in God or Jesus, so what’s the point for him to celebrate Christmas. He’s not the feeling type to spend “quality time” with anyone so why celebrate with or for anyone? There’s nothing to celebrate. It’s just another day.

All these list off in his head as reason why he shouldn’t celebrate Christmas, as if reminding himself he doesn’t want to.

But irony decides to greet him tonight, accompanied with obnoxious persistence.

By his fourth finger he cleans, music begins to play. But not in his home. And even if he were to play music, it’s definitely not this damn noise.

Christmas music? Christmas carols? You’ve got to be fucking kidding. He rolls his eyes as he looks above to the ceiling.

And in the bathroom too? I hope you slip and fall when you try to dance in your shower.

The phone rings and he calls out to his technologically-advanced home to answer the call. He tries to yell over the music, “Turn that fucking noise down!”

“Boss?” He hears Hoseok clear his throat.

“What?” He growls, glaring at the ceiling when the music does not desist.

“I’m coming by to hand you the package. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Namjoon looks at himself soaking in the tub.

“You make that an hour.” He commands.

“Okay? I’ll be there in an hour.” Hoseok is about to hang up, “Oh, and doesn’t your neighbor know your rules?”

“Apparently he forgot.” He rolls his eyes. He thinks the music just got louder as it changed from one song to the next.

“God damn it. I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to remind him.”

“Killing him isn’t reminding him. That’s just ending the poor bastard’s life. Come on, in the spirit of Christmas, let him live.” Hoseok laughs. Namjoon rolls his eyes. If any of his boys could be close to holiday person, it would be Hoseok.

“Poor bastard? He should have seen this coming. I’m the poor bastard who has to deal with shit people who don’t listen. Christmas, or any holiday for that matter, is never a reason for leniency.” Namjoon hangs up with a growl. He clenches his teeth when he looks at his tub that’s filled to the brim. Damn water is wasted on this idiot.

He gets up and drains the water. He dries himself out and quickly puts on some clothing. He stomps around his house to his drawer and roughly pulls it out. There’s a mass of choice weapons. Bronze knuckles, guns of all types, knives, daggers. Namjoon looks at all of them and then at his hands.

He’s angry enough. He can probably finish the “discussion” with his bare hands.

Every step is heavy as he makes his way one floor above him. He memorized the residence number above his place. And if that isn’t enough, the music is louder up here.

He clenches his teeth and groans. When the man opens that door, the music is going to amplify by ten-fold. He pounds on the door and steps back, wishing that the space would become a sound barrier, but he knows it won’t.

When the door opens, it’s not the scrawny man he’s expecting, it’s you. And you is dressed in a short silky red robe and he can see a bit of a silky white night slip underneath. Your hair is slightly tussled, half-dried, and pushed to one side to reveal your neck. Why, the closest he’ll get to Christmas spirit is to compare you to a candy cane. What a delicious candy cane. But also here at the wrong place and wrong time.

“Where’s Yeonseok?” He asks you with gritted teeth. You’re not the one he’s looking for, but damn, he wished he was.

“Sorry? Um, I’m new. Are you looking for the previous owner?” You ask politely. You’re a new resident? And he wasn’t notified by the property manager or you? He thought he had an understanding with the property manager. Anyone who moves above, below, left, right, front or back of his home, he is to be notified so he can make discuss his rules with them. Looks like he’s going to have many tedious conversations tonight.

“I live below you. Didn’t the property manager tell you that if you move in within my area, you need to answer to me first?” He asks. You sense something tense about him, but you don’t recognize it as intimidation. Just a grumpy man who has a really rigid structure.

“Yes, I am aware. But I’ve been here for three weeks now, and I try to come down every hour I’m home. I haven’t been able to catch you. I am aware that you have strict rules, and I’m willing to discuss them with you. It’s just always been bad timing.” You explain yourself. With a rigid structure, you’re pretty sure he’s not an excuse kind of guy. But you also hope he’s reasonable enough to recognize the difference between excuses and reason.

He sighs and steps in. He leans in close to you, “Turn off that music and come with me. We have a few things to discuss.” You shiver and he smirks at his effect on you. But he’s mistaken; it’s just the draft he’s creating in the entrance of your home. You go and turn off your music.

“Let me change first, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“No. Come now.” Besides, he doesn’t mind you dressed like this. Not at all.

“I can’t go into another man’s home dressed like this.”

“You open the door to your own home dressed like that. Now, you can wear whatever you like in your own home, but you’re lucky someone with more restraint and respect knocked on your door. Now come along. No one’s going to eat you tonight. Unless you want me to.” You wrinkle your nose in disgust but he’s already out of sight, expecting you to follow him. You sigh and slip on the easiest shoe you’ve got.

You follow him down with your arms crossed over your chest the whole time.

You enter into his home and see that everything is just black and white with minimalist furniture. He sits at the center of his couch. He crosses his leg halfway over his other one and spreads his arm to the back of his couch. You’re not about to sit next to him when his arm is spread like that, but you really don’t want to stand in front him like this. You opt to his kitchen counter and lean against it with your arms still crossed.

“You’re not allowed to have parties, music, or loud animals into your home. Wear socks at all times so I don’t hear you walking around. Your media volumes are never to go above 40%. Don’t sing. Don’t dance. I don’t think I have to tell you this, since it’s basic home care, but if there’s anything wrong with your home, fix it automatically. A floor creek, a wall crack, plumbing issues, all of that. I don’t need those noisy issues disturbing me. You better not have a squeaky bed. Oh, and don’t you dare have sex. Find a guy who’ll take you back to his place. Your standards must be high enough to find someone who’s not living in his mother’s basement, right?” You uncross your arms in disbelief and your jaw drops.

“Are you going to pay my rent? Are you my boss? Are you going to pay for any of my losses or things I would have to fix if any of these issues cost money? If not, I don’t see why I would have to comply with any part of this deal based on your preferences. I can tell you’re a guy who likes his silence, and that’s fine, but these are unreasonable.”

“Did I ever say this was a deal? No. This are simply rules. If you don’t like it, move.”

“No, I like it here. It’s been just fine for the past three weeks. And besides, evident through the fact that I couldn’t even find you for three weeks, you’re rarely home. I’m not going to tiptoe around my home for someone else’s unreasonable demands, especially for that someone who isn’t even home.”

“How’s this offer? If you comply, I will not kill you.”

You raise an eyebrow and roll your eyes, “You don’t scare me. I’ve been through a lot. Even dressed like this, you won’t even get to touch me.”

“Is that a challenge?” He smirks. You glare him down, “No. It’s not. Don’t even try.”

He shrugs but his obnoxious smirk won’t wipe off his face.

“If we can’t agree, then you’re going to have to move.”

“I’m not moving because we can’t agree!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Then you’re going to have to agree if you stay.”

“I’m not going to agree to anything with you.” He sighs and throws his head back in frustration. There’s really only A or B with him. Why can’t you see that? Does he really need to go to C?

“Look. I’ll agree to reasonable home care, and that is it. I’m going to sing, I’m going to dance. I’m going to play all my damn music however I want. Here’s how I can meet you halfway. I can tell you early on if I’m going to have company. My family is visiting for the holidays, so for at least a week, I’m going to have company. I’m planning to get a cat, so at least it’s not a loud animal. I already don’t have a squeaky bed. I’m not going to wear socks at all times based on your request because I walk lightly enough. Besides, didn’t you just say I’m allowed to wear whatever I want at home? A-and that sex thing? It’s not going to happen, so don’t worry. At least not for a while.”

Namjoon studies you for a bit and then turns presses his lips downward, “Nah. No. Not good enough. Don’t sing, don’t dance, and no music. Get your family to stay somewhere else. Wear your socks because safe than sorry. I’m allergic to cats, so no.”

“You’re ridiculous! Did the previous guy leave because he couldn’t keep up with your demands either? Are there anyone who lives around you anymore, you lonely and rigid soul?!” He glares at you for so long and so hard you look down and apologize quietly.

“You are never allowed to speak to me like that again, you understand?” He threatens lowly. It’s the first time that you agree with him as you slowly nod.

You two don’t speak for a while.

“Now.” He begins again, just as low and threateningly, “Are you going to listen to what I have to say?” you clench your teeth but make no other move.

He takes that as affirmative so he begins to speak, “Get. Your family. Elsewhere. Carpet your floor so you can avoid wearing socks if it’s really that much of an inconvenience.”

Your eye twitches. How is that any less of an inconvenience?

“Don’t sing, dance, play music, or any loud sounds above 40%, or I will swear to fuck, that you will regret it. Do you understand?”

You clench you hand and look at him, “I apologized for my behavior already. Just because that was wrong of me does not mean I’m going to magically cooperate. I want to do what I want to do in the comfort of my own home. We don’t know each other. It’s unreasonable for either of us to meet such demands to accommodate one another. So no.”

He gets up so fast, you jump. He quickly makes his way to you and traps you against the counter between his arms.

“I’ve been very patient and cordial with you longer than I have with anyone for the past 15 years.” You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down. He can’t possibly be past his 20’s, “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have known that. I’m so sorry. That really changes my decision since you’ve shown such manners. Oh, wait. No, it doesn’t.”

He has his hand around your throat before you blink and tightens his hold on you, “I have no qualms killing a woman. Believe me.”

You quickly take your elbow and jam it into the inside of his arm, making him drop his hold on you, and you push him away.

“I said. You. Don’t. Touch. Me.” You glare at him. For the first time tonight, he wears a different expression on his face other than anger, frustration, or lust. It’s amusement.

“You know, you’re about as threatening as a baby rabbit. Ah, no, no. That’s too much credit. An ant. You’re about as threatening as an ant.”

You glare at him and he shrugs in amusement. The phone rings and he takes out his phone to answer it. He’s not about to have his mafia business be heard over by some candy cane.

“I’m here boss.” Hoseok says.

“Come back tomorrow. I’m taking care of my neighbor.” He watches you cross your arms.

“That’s still not over? Do you need a clean-up crew?”

“No, it’s fine. Just go.” He hangs up.

“It looks like we aren’t going to come to an agreement here.” You purse your lips together.

“Doesn’t look that way.” You two have a stare-down.

“Look,” He starts, “See if there’s another empty space in this building. One that’s not around me and we can avoid the mess. At least you don’t have to move out of the building.”

“You’re no different from a spoiled brat. You need to understand that you can’t have people doing what you want all the time!” You unfold your arms, “Especially strangers. You give me no reason to listen to you.” He sighs and walks away. You hear a drawer opening and slamming closed. He comes back with a gun and he’s twisting on a silencer.

You clench your teeth and fists.

He stands in front of you and points it point blank at your nose.

“Move, agree, or die. There is no door four. Personally, I’d choose door one or two.”

You make no move and he tilts his head. You must have really gone through something bad for you to not show fear, not in your eyes or in the air around you.

“I’ll move to somewhere else in this building. You rude piece of -.” You bite back your last words. You make your decision based on rationale that this is going nowhere. You’re not afraid of his gun, but it’s your self-preservation instincts. So, this is the only time you will ever let it go. You hate letting him think he’s won. You really, really do.

He smiles distortedly and presses his gun at your nose and points it upward so you look like a pig.

He sighs inwardly. You’re still a candy cane.

“It’s okay. Self-preservation is only human. I don’t blame you. I’ve seen a lot of people give in for that reason. But I’ll give you more credit because you’re not nearly as cowardly.” He chuckles. But he’s still mocking you by pushing your nose with his gun.

You dare to push his gun away and shock almost surfaces to his expression.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch.” You cross your arms and walk out of his apartment. He has his eyebrows raised in full amusement.

He realizes a couple things.

One, you two never exchanged names.

Two, he really wants a candy cane right now. And he’s probably going to start liking them as the only sweets he’ll eat in his life. And that sucks because it’s only going to sell seasonally.

And three. Damn. He likes you. He really likes you.

And that is the story of how Kim Namjoon, a mafia boss, gets the closest he’ll ever get to Christmas spirit.

Candy Cane | Mafia!Namjoon

Summary line: Christmas Prompt #19: Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud.

(edit: Because I have a very clear idea of his home in my head, I decided to create it. The links you see as you read (just 3) will give you the perspective. Click it if you want, but if you choose to see his home with your own imagination, just don’t click on the link. The people you see in the room are supposed to be y/n and Namjoon, but it’s just a stand in so you know where the person is looking at.)

Namjoon sighs as he finally returns home after countless nights in the administration office. He’s pretty sure that a bit of cocaine powder is still on the underside of his black leather shoes and dried blood underneath his fingertips. He’s dead tired, but he’s still a clean man, so God forbid he walks into his home with cocaine powder.

He wipes his shoes down on his white welcome mat that contrasts against the black tiles of his entryway. It’s not really used to welcome people as much as it’s to disguise cocaine powder. The white mat is perfect disguise to hide the powder. But he’ll still have to wash it tomorrow.

He walks over to his fridge to check for any food. He has expired raw meat and old vegetables. He can still eat the vegetables, but he never had, and never will have, a meal without meat. He’ll go to the store and cook tomorrow on his day off; he’s too damn tired to cook now and there are no microwavables. Food delivery should be good enough tonight.

He loosens his tie and gets ready for a bath. He strips away all his clothing and relaxes himself into the tub. He looks at his own finger nails and starts to dig out the dried blood of his enemies as he meditates on his actions today in silence.

You know, maybe the screwdriver was a bit much. A bullet next time? Nah. The guy deserved it. A bullet is too fast, too simple. In light of Christmas, I should give it a little more oomph. Namjoon chuckles at himself at his twisted way to “celebrate” Christmas. There’s no Christmas. Never was, never will.

In these days, people come home to Christmas lights, trees, presents, and milk and cookies.

He’s a minimalist who doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Other than the lights already installed into his walls, there’s no other lighting in his home, if he can even truly call this a home.

Christmas trees are dirty and difficult to manage.

And that decorating crap? Forget that.

He doesn’t need gifts. He just takes what he wants. Those aren’t gifts; although, his victims offer to him what he wants on a silver platter because they don’t want to die. So, does that count?

He doesn’t give gifts to anyone. The closest people in his life are his boys, and his gift to them every night is not shooting them. He’s been more than merciful, benevolent, and generous by that alone; he doesn’t need Christmas to prove that.

He doesn’t believe in God or Jesus, so what’s the point for him to celebrate Christmas. He’s not the feeling type to spend “quality time” with anyone so why celebrate with or for anyone? There’s nothing to celebrate. It’s just another day.

All these list off in his head as reason why he shouldn’t celebrate Christmas, as if reminding himself he doesn’t want to.

But irony decides to greet him tonight, accompanied with obnoxious persistence.

By his fourth finger he cleans, music begins to play. But not in his home. And even if he were to play music, it’s definitely not this damn noise.

Christmas music? Christmas carols? You’ve got to be fucking kidding. He rolls his eyes as he looks above to the ceiling.

And in the bathroom too? I hope you slip and fall when you try to dance in your shower.

The phone rings and he calls out to his technologically-advanced home to answer the call. He tries to yell over the music, “Turn that fucking noise down!”

“Boss?” He hears Hoseok clear his throat.

“What?” He growls, glaring at the ceiling when the music does not desist.

“I’m coming by to hand you the package. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Namjoon looks at himself soaking in the tub.

“You make that an hour.” He commands.

“Okay? I’ll be there in an hour.” Hoseok is about to hang up, “Oh, and doesn’t your neighbor know your rules?”

“Apparently he forgot.” He rolls his eyes. He thinks the music just got louder as it changed from one song to the next.

“God damn it. I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to remind him.”

“Killing him isn’t reminding him. That’s just ending the poor bastard’s life. Come on, in the spirit of Christmas, let him live.” Hoseok laughs. Namjoon rolls his eyes. If any of his boys could be close to holiday person, it would be Hoseok.

“Poor bastard? He should have seen this coming. I’m the poor bastard who has to deal with shit people who don’t listen. Christmas, or any holiday for that matter, is never a reason for leniency.” Namjoon hangs up with a growl. He clenches his teeth when he looks at his tub that’s filled to the brim. Damn water is wasted on this idiot.

He gets up and drains the water. He dries himself out and quickly puts on some clothing. He stomps around his house to his drawer and roughly pulls it out. There’s a mass of choice weapons. Bronze knuckles, guns of all types, knives, daggers. Namjoon looks at all of them and then at his hands.

He’s angry enough. He can probably finish the “discussion” with his bare hands.

Every step is heavy as he makes his way one floor above him. He memorized the residence number above his place. And if that isn’t enough, the music is louder up here.

He clenches his teeth and groans. When the man opens that door, the music is going to amplify by ten-fold. He pounds on the door and steps back, wishing that the space would become a sound barrier, but he knows it won’t.

When the door opens, it’s not the scrawny man he’s expecting, it’s you. And you is dressed in a short silky red robe and he can see a bit of a silky white night slip underneath. Your hair is slightly tussled, half-dried, and pushed to one side to reveal your neck. Why, the closest he’ll get to Christmas spirit is to compare you to a candy cane. What a delicious candy cane. But also here at the wrong place and wrong time.

“Where’s Yeonseok?” He asks you with gritted teeth. You’re not the one he’s looking for, but damn, he wished he was.

“Sorry? Um, I’m new. Are you looking for the previous owner?” You ask politely. You’re a new resident? And he wasn’t notified by the property manager or you? He thought he had an understanding with the property manager. Anyone who moves above, below, left, right, front or back of his home, he is to be notified so he can make discuss his rules with them. Looks like he’s going to have many tedious conversations tonight.

“I live below you. Didn’t the property manager tell you that if you move in within my area, you need to answer to me first?” He asks. You sense something tense about him, but you don’t recognize it as intimidation. Just a grumpy man who has a really rigid structure.

“Yes, I am aware. But I’ve been here for three weeks now, and I try to come down every hour I’m home. I haven’t been able to catch you. I am aware that you have strict rules, and I’m willing to discuss them with you. It’s just always been bad timing.” You explain yourself. With a rigid structure, you’re pretty sure he’s not an excuse kind of guy. But you also hope he’s reasonable enough to recognize the difference between excuses and reason.

He sighs and steps in. He leans in close to you, “Turn off that music and come with me. We have a few things to discuss.” You shiver and he smirks at his effect on you. But he’s mistaken; it’s just the draft he’s creating in the entrance of your home. You go and turn off your music.

“Let me change first, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“No. Come now.” Besides, he doesn’t mind you dressed like this. Not at all.

“I can’t go into another man’s home dressed like this.”

“You open the door to your own home dressed like that. Now, you can wear whatever you like in your own home, but you’re lucky someone with more restraint and respect knocked on your door. Now come along. No one’s going to eat you tonight. Unless you want me to.” You wrinkle your nose in disgust but he’s already out of sight, expecting you to follow him. You sigh and slip on the easiest shoe you’ve got.

You follow him down with your arms crossed over your chest the whole time.

You enter into his home and see that everything is just black and white with minimalist furniture. He sits at the center of his couch. He crosses his leg halfway over his other one and spreads his arm to the back of his couch. You’re not about to sit next to him when his arm is spread like that, but you really don’t want to stand in front him like this. You opt to his kitchen counter and lean against it with your arms still crossed.

“You’re not allowed to have parties, music, or loud animals into your home. Wear socks at all times so I don’t hear you walking around. Your media volumes are never to go above 40%. Don’t sing. Don’t dance. I don’t think I have to tell you this, since it’s basic home care, but if there’s anything wrong with your home, fix it automatically. A floor creek, a wall crack, plumbing issues, all of that. I don’t need those noisy issues disturbing me. You better not have a squeaky bed. Oh, and don’t you dare have sex. Find a guy who’ll take you back to his place. Your standards must be high enough to find someone who’s not living in his mother’s basement, right?” You uncross your arms in disbelief and your jaw drops.

“Are you going to pay my rent? Are you my boss? Are you going to pay for any of my losses or things I would have to fix if any of these issues cost money? If not, I don’t see why I would have to comply with any part of this deal based on your preferences. I can tell you’re a guy who likes his silence, and that’s fine, but these are unreasonable.”

“Did I ever say this was a deal? No. This are simply rules. If you don’t like it, move.”

“No, I like it here. It’s been just fine for the past three weeks. And besides, evident through the fact that I couldn’t even find you for three weeks, you’re rarely home. I’m not going to tiptoe around my home for someone else’s unreasonable demands, especially for that someone who isn’t even home.”

“How’s this offer? If you comply, I will not kill you.”

You raise an eyebrow and roll your eyes, “You don’t scare me. I’ve been through a lot. Even dressed like this, you won’t even get to touch me.”

“Is that a challenge?” He smirks. You glare him down, “No. It’s not. Don’t even try.”

He shrugs but his obnoxious smirk won’t wipe off his face.

“If we can’t agree, then you’re going to have to move.”

“I’m not moving because we can’t agree!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Then you’re going to have to agree if you stay.”

“I’m not going to agree to anything with you.” He sighs and throws his head back in frustration. There’s really only A or B with him. Why can’t you see that? Does he really need to go to C?

“Look. I’ll agree to reasonable home care, and that is it. I’m going to sing, I’m going to dance. I’m going to play all my damn music however I want. Here’s how I can meet you halfway. I can tell you early on if I’m going to have company. My family is visiting for the holidays, so for at least a week, I’m going to have company. I’m planning to get a cat, so at least it’s not a loud animal. I already don’t have a squeaky bed. I’m not going to wear socks at all times based on your request because I walk lightly enough. Besides, didn’t you just say I’m allowed to wear whatever I want at home? A-and that sex thing? It’s not going to happen, so don’t worry. At least not for a while.”

Namjoon studies you for a bit and then turns presses his lips downward, “Nah. No. Not good enough. Don’t sing, don’t dance, and no music. Get your family to stay somewhere else. Wear your socks because safe than sorry. I’m allergic to cats, so no.”

“You’re ridiculous! Did the previous guy leave because he couldn’t keep up with your demands either? Are there anyone who lives around you anymore, you lonely and rigid soul?!” He glares at you for so long and so hard you look down and apologize quietly.

“You are never allowed to speak to me like that again, you understand?” He threatens lowly. It’s the first time that you agree with him as you slowly nod.

You two don’t speak for a while.

“Now.” He begins again, just as low and threateningly, “Are you going to listen to what I have to say?” you clench your teeth but make no other move.

He takes that as affirmative so he begins to speak, “Get. Your family. Elsewhere. Carpet your floor so you can avoid wearing socks if it’s really that much of an inconvenience.”

Your eye twitches. How is that any less of an inconvenience?

“Don’t sing, dance, play music, or any loud sounds above 40%, or I will swear to fuck, that you will regret it. Do you understand?”

You clench you hand and look at him, “I apologized for my behavior already. Just because that was wrong of me does not mean I’m going to magically cooperate. I want to do what I want to do in the comfort of my own home. We don’t know each other. It’s unreasonable for either of us to meet such demands to accommodate one another. So no.”

He gets up so fast, you jump. He quickly makes his way to you and traps you against the counter between his arms.

“I’ve been very patient and cordial with you longer than I have with anyone for the past 15 years.” You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down. He can’t possibly be past his 20’s, “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have known that. I’m so sorry. That really changes my decision since you’ve shown such manners. Oh, wait. No, it doesn’t.”

He has his hand around your throat before you blink and tightens his hold on you, “I have no qualms killing a woman. Believe me.”

You quickly take your elbow and jam it into the inside of his arm, making him drop his hold on you, and you push him away.

“I said. You. Don’t. Touch. Me.” You glare at him. For the first time tonight, he wears a different expression on his face other than anger, frustration, or lust. It’s amusement.

“You know, you’re about as threatening as a baby rabbit. Ah, no, no. That’s too much credit. An ant. You’re about as threatening as an ant.”

You glare at him and he shrugs in amusement. The phone rings and he takes out his phone to answer it. He’s not about to have his mafia business be heard over by some candy cane.

“I’m here boss.” Hoseok says.

“Come back tomorrow. I’m taking care of my neighbor.” He watches you cross your arms.

“That’s still not over? Do you need a clean-up crew?”

“No, it’s fine. Just go.” He hangs up.

“It looks like we aren’t going to come to an agreement here.” You purse your lips together.

“Doesn’t look that way.” You two have a stare-down.

“Look,” He starts, “See if there’s another empty space in this building. One that’s not around me and we can avoid the mess. At least you don’t have to move out of the building.”

“You’re no different from a spoiled brat. You need to understand that you can’t have people doing what you want all the time!” You unfold your arms, “Especially strangers. You give me no reason to listen to you.” He sighs and walks away. You hear a drawer opening and slamming closed. He comes back with a gun and he’s twisting on a silencer.

You clench your teeth and fists.

He stands in front of you and points it point blank at your nose.

“Move, agree, or die. There is no door four. Personally, I’d choose door one or two.”

You make no move and he tilts his head. You must have really gone through something bad for you to not show fear, not in your eyes or in the air around you.

“I’ll move to somewhere else in this building. You rude piece of -.” You bite back your last words. You make your decision based on rationale that this is going nowhere. You’re not afraid of his gun, but it’s your self-preservation instincts. So, this is the only time you will ever let it go. You hate letting him think he’s won. You really, really do.

He smiles distortedly and presses his gun at your nose and points it upward so you look like a pig.

He sighs inwardly. You’re still a candy cane.

“It’s okay. Self-preservation is only human. I don’t blame you. I’ve seen a lot of people give in for that reason. But I’ll give you more credit because you’re not nearly as cowardly.” He chuckles. But he’s still mocking you by pushing your nose with his gun.

You dare to push his gun away and shock almost surfaces to his expression.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch.” You cross your arms and walk out of his apartment. He has his eyebrows raised in full amusement.

He realizes a couple things.

One, you two never exchanged names.

Two, he really wants a candy cane right now. And he’s probably going to start liking them as the only sweets he’ll eat in his life. And that sucks because it’s only going to sell seasonally.

And three. Damn. He likes you. He really likes you.

And that is the story of how Kim Namjoon, a mafia boss, gets the closest he’ll ever get to Christmas spirit.

The Impossible Order | Ch. 7

Summary line: Mr. Min is a stoic boss who will never outwardly show appreciation for you. Not until you’re gone does he recognize how much you do. And what you do matters to him.

ceo!Yoongi | best.friend!Hoseok | romance, fluff, angst, and stuff

Loosely inspired by Secretary Kim and this third bullet point of the prompt list

Start from the beginning | Last chapter

Keep reading

Candy Cane | Mafia!Namjoon

Summary line: Christmas Prompt #19: Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud.

(edit: Because I have a very clear idea of his home in my head, I decided to create it. The links you see as you read (just 3) will give you the perspective. Click it if you want, but if you choose to see his home with your own imagination, just don’t click on the link. The people you see in the room are supposed to be y/n and Namjoon, but it’s just a stand in so you know where the person is looking at.)

Namjoon sighs as he finally returns home after countless nights in the administration office. He’s pretty sure that a bit of cocaine powder is still on the underside of his black leather shoes and dried blood underneath his fingertips. He’s dead tired, but he’s still a clean man, so God forbid he walks into his home with cocaine powder.

He wipes his shoes down on his white welcome mat that contrasts against the black tiles of his entryway. It’s not really used to welcome people as much as it’s to disguise cocaine powder. The white mat is perfect disguise to hide the powder. But he’ll still have to wash it tomorrow.

He walks over to his fridge to check for any food. He has expired raw meat and old vegetables. He can still eat the vegetables, but he never had, and never will have, a meal without meat. He’ll go to the store and cook tomorrow on his day off; he’s too damn tired to cook now and there are no microwavables. Food delivery should be good enough tonight.

He loosens his tie and gets ready for a bath. He strips away all his clothing and relaxes himself into the tub. He looks at his own finger nails and starts to dig out the dried blood of his enemies as he meditates on his actions today in silence.

You know, maybe the screwdriver was a bit much. A bullet next time? Nah. The guy deserved it. A bullet is too fast, too simple. In light of Christmas, I should give it a little more oomph. Namjoon chuckles at himself at his twisted way to “celebrate” Christmas. There’s no Christmas. Never was, never will.

In these days, people come home to Christmas lights, trees, presents, and milk and cookies.

He’s a minimalist who doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Other than the lights already installed into his walls, there’s no other lighting in his home, if he can even truly call this a home.

Christmas trees are dirty and difficult to manage.

And that decorating crap? Forget that.

He doesn’t need gifts. He just takes what he wants. Those aren’t gifts; although, his victims offer to him what he wants on a silver platter because they don’t want to die. So, does that count?

He doesn’t give gifts to anyone. The closest people in his life are his boys, and his gift to them every night is not shooting them. He’s been more than merciful, benevolent, and generous by that alone; he doesn’t need Christmas to prove that.

He doesn’t believe in God or Jesus, so what’s the point for him to celebrate Christmas. He’s not the feeling type to spend “quality time” with anyone so why celebrate with or for anyone? There’s nothing to celebrate. It’s just another day.

All these list off in his head as reason why he shouldn’t celebrate Christmas, as if reminding himself he doesn’t want to.

But irony decides to greet him tonight, accompanied with obnoxious persistence.

By his fourth finger he cleans, music begins to play. But not in his home. And even if he were to play music, it’s definitely not this damn noise.

Christmas music? Christmas carols? You’ve got to be fucking kidding. He rolls his eyes as he looks above to the ceiling.

And in the bathroom too? I hope you slip and fall when you try to dance in your shower.

The phone rings and he calls out to his technologically-advanced home to answer the call. He tries to yell over the music, “Turn that fucking noise down!”

“Boss?” He hears Hoseok clear his throat.

“What?” He growls, glaring at the ceiling when the music does not desist.

“I’m coming by to hand you the package. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Namjoon looks at himself soaking in the tub.

“You make that an hour.” He commands.

“Okay? I’ll be there in an hour.” Hoseok is about to hang up, “Oh, and doesn’t your neighbor know your rules?”

“Apparently he forgot.” He rolls his eyes. He thinks the music just got louder as it changed from one song to the next.

“God damn it. I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to remind him.”

“Killing him isn’t reminding him. That’s just ending the poor bastard’s life. Come on, in the spirit of Christmas, let him live.” Hoseok laughs. Namjoon rolls his eyes. If any of his boys could be close to holiday person, it would be Hoseok.

“Poor bastard? He should have seen this coming. I’m the poor bastard who has to deal with shit people who don’t listen. Christmas, or any holiday for that matter, is never a reason for leniency.” Namjoon hangs up with a growl. He clenches his teeth when he looks at his tub that’s filled to the brim. Damn water is wasted on this idiot.

He gets up and drains the water. He dries himself out and quickly puts on some clothing. He stomps around his house to his drawer and roughly pulls it out. There’s a mass of choice weapons. Bronze knuckles, guns of all types, knives, daggers. Namjoon looks at all of them and then at his hands.

He’s angry enough. He can probably finish the “discussion” with his bare hands.

Every step is heavy as he makes his way one floor above him. He memorized the residence number above his place. And if that isn’t enough, the music is louder up here.

He clenches his teeth and groans. When the man opens that door, the music is going to amplify by ten-fold. He pounds on the door and steps back, wishing that the space would become a sound barrier, but he knows it won’t.

When the door opens, it’s not the scrawny man he’s expecting, it’s you. And you is dressed in a short silky red robe and he can see a bit of a silky white night slip underneath. Your hair is slightly tussled, half-dried, and pushed to one side to reveal your neck. Why, the closest he’ll get to Christmas spirit is to compare you to a candy cane. What a delicious candy cane. But also here at the wrong place and wrong time.

“Where’s Yeonseok?” He asks you with gritted teeth. You’re not the one he’s looking for, but damn, he wished he was.

“Sorry? Um, I’m new. Are you looking for the previous owner?” You ask politely. You’re a new resident? And he wasn’t notified by the property manager or you? He thought he had an understanding with the property manager. Anyone who moves above, below, left, right, front or back of his home, he is to be notified so he can make discuss his rules with them. Looks like he’s going to have many tedious conversations tonight.

“I live below you. Didn’t the property manager tell you that if you move in within my area, you need to answer to me first?” He asks. You sense something tense about him, but you don’t recognize it as intimidation. Just a grumpy man who has a really rigid structure.

“Yes, I am aware. But I’ve been here for three weeks now, and I try to come down every hour I’m home. I haven’t been able to catch you. I am aware that you have strict rules, and I’m willing to discuss them with you. It’s just always been bad timing.” You explain yourself. With a rigid structure, you’re pretty sure he’s not an excuse kind of guy. But you also hope he’s reasonable enough to recognize the difference between excuses and reason.

He sighs and steps in. He leans in close to you, “Turn off that music and come with me. We have a few things to discuss.” You shiver and he smirks at his effect on you. But he’s mistaken; it’s just the draft he’s creating in the entrance of your home. You go and turn off your music.

“Let me change first, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“No. Come now.” Besides, he doesn’t mind you dressed like this. Not at all.

“I can’t go into another man’s home dressed like this.”

“You open the door to your own home dressed like that. Now, you can wear whatever you like in your own home, but you’re lucky someone with more restraint and respect knocked on your door. Now come along. No one’s going to eat you tonight. Unless you want me to.” You wrinkle your nose in disgust but he’s already out of sight, expecting you to follow him. You sigh and slip on the easiest shoe you’ve got.

You follow him down with your arms crossed over your chest the whole time.

You enter into his home and see that everything is just black and white with minimalist furniture. He sits at the center of his couch. He crosses his leg halfway over his other one and spreads his arm to the back of his couch. You’re not about to sit next to him when his arm is spread like that, but you really don’t want to stand in front him like this. You opt to his kitchen counter and lean against it with your arms still crossed.

“You’re not allowed to have parties, music, or loud animals into your home. Wear socks at all times so I don’t hear you walking around. Your media volumes are never to go above 40%. Don’t sing. Don’t dance. I don’t think I have to tell you this, since it’s basic home care, but if there’s anything wrong with your home, fix it automatically. A floor creek, a wall crack, plumbing issues, all of that. I don’t need those noisy issues disturbing me. You better not have a squeaky bed. Oh, and don’t you dare have sex. Find a guy who’ll take you back to his place. Your standards must be high enough to find someone who’s not living in his mother’s basement, right?” You uncross your arms in disbelief and your jaw drops.

“Are you going to pay my rent? Are you my boss? Are you going to pay for any of my losses or things I would have to fix if any of these issues cost money? If not, I don’t see why I would have to comply with any part of this deal based on your preferences. I can tell you’re a guy who likes his silence, and that’s fine, but these are unreasonable.”

“Did I ever say this was a deal? No. This are simply rules. If you don’t like it, move.”

“No, I like it here. It’s been just fine for the past three weeks. And besides, evident through the fact that I couldn’t even find you for three weeks, you’re rarely home. I’m not going to tiptoe around my home for someone else’s unreasonable demands, especially for that someone who isn’t even home.”

“How’s this offer? If you comply, I will not kill you.”

You raise an eyebrow and roll your eyes, “You don’t scare me. I’ve been through a lot. Even dressed like this, you won’t even get to touch me.”

“Is that a challenge?” He smirks. You glare him down, “No. It’s not. Don’t even try.”

He shrugs but his obnoxious smirk won’t wipe off his face.

“If we can’t agree, then you’re going to have to move.”

“I’m not moving because we can’t agree!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Then you’re going to have to agree if you stay.”

“I’m not going to agree to anything with you.” He sighs and throws his head back in frustration. There’s really only A or B with him. Why can’t you see that? Does he really need to go to C?

“Look. I’ll agree to reasonable home care, and that is it. I’m going to sing, I’m going to dance. I’m going to play all my damn music however I want. Here’s how I can meet you halfway. I can tell you early on if I’m going to have company. My family is visiting for the holidays, so for at least a week, I’m going to have company. I’m planning to get a cat, so at least it’s not a loud animal. I already don’t have a squeaky bed. I’m not going to wear socks at all times based on your request because I walk lightly enough. Besides, didn’t you just say I’m allowed to wear whatever I want at home? A-and that sex thing? It’s not going to happen, so don’t worry. At least not for a while.”

Namjoon studies you for a bit and then turns presses his lips downward, “Nah. No. Not good enough. Don’t sing, don’t dance, and no music. Get your family to stay somewhere else. Wear your socks because safe than sorry. I’m allergic to cats, so no.”

“You’re ridiculous! Did the previous guy leave because he couldn’t keep up with your demands either? Are there anyone who lives around you anymore, you lonely and rigid soul?!” He glares at you for so long and so hard you look down and apologize quietly.

“You are never allowed to speak to me like that again, you understand?” He threatens lowly. It’s the first time that you agree with him as you slowly nod.

You two don’t speak for a while.

“Now.” He begins again, just as low and threateningly, “Are you going to listen to what I have to say?” you clench your teeth but make no other move.

He takes that as affirmative so he begins to speak, “Get. Your family. Elsewhere. Carpet your floor so you can avoid wearing socks if it’s really that much of an inconvenience.”

Your eye twitches. How is that any less of an inconvenience?

“Don’t sing, dance, play music, or any loud sounds above 40%, or I will swear to fuck, that you will regret it. Do you understand?”

You clench you hand and look at him, “I apologized for my behavior already. Just because that was wrong of me does not mean I’m going to magically cooperate. I want to do what I want to do in the comfort of my own home. We don’t know each other. It’s unreasonable for either of us to meet such demands to accommodate one another. So no.”

He gets up so fast, you jump. He quickly makes his way to you and traps you against the counter between his arms.

“I’ve been very patient and cordial with you longer than I have with anyone for the past 15 years.” You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down. He can’t possibly be past his 20’s, “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have known that. I’m so sorry. That really changes my decision since you’ve shown such manners. Oh, wait. No, it doesn’t.”

He has his hand around your throat before you blink and tightens his hold on you, “I have no qualms killing a woman. Believe me.”

You quickly take your elbow and jam it into the inside of his arm, making him drop his hold on you, and you push him away.

“I said. You. Don’t. Touch. Me.” You glare at him. For the first time tonight, he wears a different expression on his face other than anger, frustration, or lust. It’s amusement.

“You know, you’re about as threatening as a baby rabbit. Ah, no, no. That’s too much credit. An ant. You’re about as threatening as an ant.”

You glare at him and he shrugs in amusement. The phone rings and he takes out his phone to answer it. He’s not about to have his mafia business be heard over by some candy cane.

“I’m here boss.” Hoseok says.

“Come back tomorrow. I’m taking care of my neighbor.” He watches you cross your arms.

“That’s still not over? Do you need a clean-up crew?”

“No, it’s fine. Just go.” He hangs up.

“It looks like we aren’t going to come to an agreement here.” You purse your lips together.

“Doesn’t look that way.” You two have a stare-down.

“Look,” He starts, “See if there’s another empty space in this building. One that’s not around me and we can avoid the mess. At least you don’t have to move out of the building.”

“You’re no different from a spoiled brat. You need to understand that you can’t have people doing what you want all the time!” You unfold your arms, “Especially strangers. You give me no reason to listen to you.” He sighs and walks away. You hear a drawer opening and slamming closed. He comes back with a gun and he’s twisting on a silencer.

You clench your teeth and fists.

He stands in front of you and points it point blank at your nose.

“Move, agree, or die. There is no door four. Personally, I’d choose door one or two.”

You make no move and he tilts his head. You must have really gone through something bad for you to not show fear, not in your eyes or in the air around you.

“I’ll move to somewhere else in this building. You rude piece of -.” You bite back your last words. You make your decision based on rationale that this is going nowhere. You’re not afraid of his gun, but it’s your self-preservation instincts. So, this is the only time you will ever let it go. You hate letting him think he’s won. You really, really do.

He smiles distortedly and presses his gun at your nose and points it upward so you look like a pig.

He sighs inwardly. You’re still a candy cane.

“It’s okay. Self-preservation is only human. I don’t blame you. I’ve seen a lot of people give in for that reason. But I’ll give you more credit because you’re not nearly as cowardly.” He chuckles. But he’s still mocking you by pushing your nose with his gun.

You dare to push his gun away and shock almost surfaces to his expression.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch.” You cross your arms and walk out of his apartment. He has his eyebrows raised in full amusement.

He realizes a couple things.

One, you two never exchanged names.

Two, he really wants a candy cane right now. And he’s probably going to start liking them as the only sweets he’ll eat in his life. And that sucks because it’s only going to sell seasonally.

And three. Damn. He likes you. He really likes you.

And that is the story of how Kim Namjoon, a mafia boss, gets the closest he’ll ever get to Christmas spirit.