Enchanted

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enchanted

P R E V I E W 

“I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.”

summary: The realm under King Min’s rule had been under war for over thirty years, a war within the inhuman species with origins no one knows. Your presence was brought into awareness when found by the king under the rubble of your home. You are plunged into a world you had only ever seen from the outside, and don’t know how long you can last.

genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, dragon au,

pairing: Dragon King Yoongi x Human MC

status: coming soon (random updates)

warnings: starts in the middle of war, violence, angst, death, supernatural creatures, smut, dragon customs, dragon instincts, more to come

masterlist // taglist // playlist

COMING SUNDAY, APRIL 23RD 5PM PST

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Grabbing the supplies you needed and the soiled cloths, you begin to head for the river, since Lady Ahn refused to have you clean the sheets in the sinks. You were lucky not to run into any of the Lord’s family on your way out, your lungs able to breathe easier once you made it outside and away from the prying eyes of the family.

Oddly enough, you loved being outside, where only the trees and the stream could be heard. It helped you be calm, to ease your thoughts and feelings. It was something your mother used to do whenever you got too into your head. She would take you outside, to the lavender patch that resided just outside your small cottage.

“Darling, the earth beneath our feet can do so much more than just grow our food and provide shade from the sun. It can give power to our very souls.” Your mother would tell you as she braided daisies into your hair, something that always managed to calm you down.

“What power, mama?”

“The power to be calm, like the river that runs through the forest. To keep steady even in the face of destruction. But most of all, it gives you the power to live, to face whatever comes your way.” You never understood what she meant, but over time, you realize the peace you felt in the forest was more than enough to understand and take in.

You felt truly at peace when surrounded by the earth and her makings.

And it seemed as though the forest felt the same way, like it listened to your heart beat. You never had trouble walking, unlike your friends who always tripped over roots or broken branches. The flowers you picked always seemed to look the best or give off the strongest scent.

Even now, as you walked down the hill and to the river, the ground seemed to flatten as you advanced. You just figured you and the earth had some kind of understanding with each other.

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cry me a river | the frightened ones

— summary: drowning in the middle of the sea means being blind and not knowing who is on your side and who wishes to pull you in deeper

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.7k

— warnings: nightmares, mentions of hallucinating, aggressive acts, kidnapping

— PART 18 / previous post / masterpost

“Are you scared?”

You look up in the complete void of the room, darkness shadowing all that you are as you sit in that lone void, knees held up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your head lowered until you hear the voice.

A familiar, gentle voice.

“....Mister Butler?” You call hesitantly, confused and almost frightened at how young he looks, as if he had never aged. He was only seventeen when he met you after all, twenty-two when he died.

Those widened pupils which have been engraved in your memories will be something you will never forget for the rest of your life. The day he died, the day your whole world fell apart, when everything went wrong from that point on.

Father blamed you for the longest time for his death, Mister Butler himself visiting you in dreams after dreams, for a moment relieving you only for him to shame you and blame you for killing him.

You remember those dreams in faint glimpses, fragments, shattered glass. And whenever Mister Butler would appear before you, the whole room would remain just as cold as your life turned when he died and your world turned upside down. 

Yet today it feels a little warmer.

Why does it feel warm?

And why is he here? He hasn’t visited your dreams in ages. You thought he’d abandoned you.

“Hello there, little miss.” He smiles sweetly in the way your memories keep on him, the real him, not your make-believe nightmares. That boyish, kind smile always makes your insides warm in the way only he’s able to do in the darkness of your life. He takes a seat before you, glowing brightly in the darkness of the abyss that keeps your heart cold and hard.

You feel his warmth the way you recall your forgotten memories and your heart aches at the sight of him, remembering, remembering.

You hate remembering. Hate being reminded of what happened that night.

Car crash, tires screeching loudly against the pavement, an explosion, a gunshot, a scream, a cry.

Mister Butler. Dead.

“I…” You stutter, the sound in your throat trying to give away, a lump restricting it from within, and you feel like you want to throw up. You want to sit up, to reach out to him, touch him, feel him, but your body won’t move.

It only lurches forward as you hold a hand over your mouth, the sickness in the pits of your stomach wishing to relieve the empty contents in there.

You want to speak but no word would come on, no sound, so you’re left with only trembling in plain sight, unable to ask for help, to ask him why he’s here, if he wants to scorn you again, if this time, he’s going to yell at you for hurting his little brother, for lying to his little brother.

You’re afraid.

Afraid.

“Little miss.” But his voice remains gentle when he calls for you and you almost cry at how soft he sounds. But even then, even with Mister Butler right here before you, nothing can help you shed tears anymore. They’ve all gone, wasted on a pitiful father who didn’t deserve any of it.

You feel a hand on your back, his warmth surging forth into your body as if he was a human furnace himself and you look up, slowly, frightened that what you’re seeing is only a figment of your imagination.

“I….I’m scared,” you finally manage to admit to his initial question, wanting to avoid his eyes but knowing because he only lives on in your memories and dreams, this is the only way you can ever see him so you keep your eyes on him, wanting to recall every detail, every little thing you can remember. You lean back into a seated position with some struggle, trying to focus.

“I know you are,” Mister Butler nods with a troubled smile. “You’ve blocked your heart from the world, haven’t you, little one?” He asks, taking a look at the darkness of this space.

“You told me not everyone deserves the heart that I’ve been given. You told me to stop letting them all stomp on me.”

“Not everyone,” he emphasizes, an eyebrow arched your way with a pointed stare. “That doesn’t mean shut yourself away from everyone.”

You bite your lower lip. “Same difference.”

“It isn’t and you know that,” he chides and you shrink into your seat, feeling a bit ashamed because he always sees through you no matter how hard you try. Will he scold you again? Speak the words he knows will hurt you the most? “But you’re scared.” Yet he doesn’t this time. This time Mister Butler is real.

Real.

Not those fake nightmares your mind decided to make up because you were made to believe his death was your fault.

This time Mister Butler is real and he understands. He always does. “And the people that you’ve trusted have all abandoned you. Your own father has made you into the killer that you are today.”

“Do you see me as a monster?” You look at him with a bit of desperation, frightened for his answer.

Mister Butler takes a moment to simply watch you, falling silent, as if letting you take this time to reflect back on what you had just said, and when you keep your resolution, he speaks again. “To me, you are nothing else but my young little miss,” he says. “Why would I ever see you as anything else?”

“Because I can’t control it,” you tell him, a bit frustrated, a bit desperate. You show him your hands. They tremble uncontrollably when you lay your palms to face you from your lap. “I want to hurt everyone that has hurt me and…and what if one day I come to hurt myself?”

“You can control it.”

“I can’t.”

“I know you can. And you will.”

“You don’t understand.”

“My young, little miss.” His voice remains calm, steady, and light, unlike you who seems to only fall out of control, desperate and in a panic, scared and frightened and mad, looking up at him and pleading at him to save you. To ground you. To control you. “How much longer will you keep hurting yourself? How much longer will you refuse to trust the people around you?”

“I can’t.” You say again, more stressed. “They’ll leave one day, just like everyone else has. They’ll leave.” Your voice shakes.

“Are you so afraid despite how many sacrifices they’ve made for you?”

“It’s because of that,” you say, hands running through your hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. You can feel it, you’re becoming unstable once again. Your heart is racing. Racing hard. “Because they’ll make the sacrifices, I can’t…I can’t-”

“Show them your heart?”

“Because they’ll leave.” You nod. “Everyone leaves. And if they leave…who will I have?”

“You’re drowning yourself, young miss.”

“What else can I do?” You want to scream and shout and let everything out but father still sits in the back of your mind, taunting you, threatening you. Shouting will do nothing. No one will come. No one will save you no matter how loud you are. So you have to remain quiet. You have to because shouting will make no difference.

You stand from your seat abruptly, hands running through your hair as you pace the room, unsettled by everything. You’re a mess right now, unable to stay calm, while Mister Butler remains seated from where he is, simply watching everything unfold before his eyes.

“I…” There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. If you run, you’ll only end up right back where you were. Running means nothing in the world of the abyss. You hold your hands together, nails clawing at your skin. “Why won’t you shout at me?” You turn back to your precious butler, frustrated that despite how familiar he feels right now, it isn’t helping you in the slightest. Perhaps the nightmare versions of him was better, perhaps hearing him shout at you and blame you for everything is better. “Why won’t…why won’t you blame me? Why’re you yourself right now?”

“Do you want me to shout at you?” He asks and you fall to your knees before him.

“Please,” you beg, palms pressing against one another but when it feels like that isn’t enough, you let them press against the cold floor, bowing forward, forehead meeting the floor. “Please blame me, please scorn me, please, just give me anything, anything. Just don’t be kind.”

But Mister Butler only watches you in silence, his gaze afflicted with pain as he stares at the little girl whom he was entrusted to ending up the way that she is right now.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “If it wasn’t for me…you…you could have lived. Why did you stay for someone like me, Mister Butler? Why? You could have gone home, could have returned to the little brother that was awaiting your return and had been waiting for your return for the longest time. But I shattered that hope for him. I broke him, Mister Butler, all because I was selfish and vengeful and only thought about my needs and my wants and didn’t care for anything else.”

“Sit up.”

“No.” You shake your head vehemently. “It was my fault. Everything’s my fault. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing’s your fault.”

“Everything’s my fault.”

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Young miss look at me.” You look up, just slightly, with creasing brows and quivering lips. “The decisions you make, the life you are living, the path you have chosen, I will never blame you for anything. You think I care whether you remained kind for the rest of your life? You think it matters to me whether you can still give your heart out and smile for people just as you’ve done all those years ago?”

“I’m weak.”

“And I don’t care,” he stresses with a desperate expression trying to make you believe in him. “All those people that say you’re weak because you can’t remain kind after what you’ve gone through, to the ones who tell you to keep your heart warm, that being kind is powerful, that you’re not strong because you want vengeance, well fuck them. No one in this world knows what you’ve gone through and they have no right to tell you what to do with your life. You’re here because you’re here and no matter how weak you may think you are for making the decisions that you’ve made, no matter how weak they may think you are, to me you are the strongest person I have ever seen, young miss. You’re living. And I will never blame you for living.”

“I don’t feel like I’m living.” You sit up, eyes shaking as you can still feel just how surreal everything feels; your trembling body, drying lips, heartbeat drumming hard against your chest, that screech in the back of your ears. “But I…” You look up at him again, as if praying, begging to the Gods from above, “I want to live.”

Mister Butler’s eyes soften upon those words, his shoulders dropping slightly as if a weight has fallen from them and he nods, understanding.

“I know.” 

He gets on his knees and leans in, arms wrapping around you and when you expect to be reminded of those arms that held you, comforted you night after night, days after days, you feel nothing.

You don’t feel his embrace, his familiar warmth, his strong, strong arms that always seem to protect you from all harm. You feel none of that and you look up, brows knitted, eyes burning red.

“Why….why can’t I feel you?”

There’s a hand on your shoulder but all you see is the hand, you don’t feel a thing. He takes a small glance its way before sending you a troubled smile, transient and painful. “Because I only live on,” he takes his other hand and presses a finger at your forehead, “in here.”

“You….” Your face crumbles as if the world has just fallen down and the coldness returns like a blizzard in the middle of winter, sudden and harsh. “You’re leaving too…aren’t you?” You sit up from your position, knees meeting the floor as your hands reach out, trying to touch him but only meeting the air in between where his figure should have been.

He’s a ghost.

Just a spirit.

“Please,” you beg. “Please don’t leave me either. Don’t leave me, Mister Butler. If you leave, I….I can’t live on. I can’t do this without you. Please…please don’t leave me.”

Your fist meets the floor, punching and punching out of frustration and desperation, wanting to touch him and hold him and embrace him again. Just like how it was in your memories, just like how he lived on all those years ago.

“Please….”

“You don’t remember, young miss?” He holds a hand out, holding your face and brushing away where invisible tears should have been. 

“I’m already gone,” he whispers, and you awake from your dream.

Panting out of breath.

Heartbeat racing.

Aching.

Hands trembling.

You throw the blanket off you, stumble on your weakened legs but force it up and race to throw the doors open, allowing light to shine through in the darkness of your room. And then you run some more, eyes focused on one thing and one thing only.

You look around as if in a trance, in a hurry, vision coming in and out, dimmed, legs failing you ever so often when your knees wish to buckle underneath you, stumbling, having to reach out for the wall, a nearby stand for those fancy vases meant to keep the flowers alive. You accidentally knock one off when your legs try to give up but you don’t care.

There is one man you’re looking for. One lone man.

“Boss-?”

“Give him back to me.” And when you find him, you’re quick to lung at him. The bandages around your right hand wraps all around from the night at Bangtan’s manor but you ignore the pain as you clutch onto Mingyu’s shirt, eyes frantic and heart racing. “Give him back to me. Give him back! Give him back right now! I didn't kill him. It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it. So please, please give him back. I didn’t do anything, I didn’t do anything wrong. I was good, I listened to you and I obeyed your every word but why did you take away the only person that ever loved me? Why, why?! He didn’t do anything wrong.”

The rest of the Reapers that heard your call watch on as you cling onto Mingyu, shouting at him in a crazed manner as if hallucinating and in a dream-like trance.

“Why didn’t you kill me instead? Why did you blame me? Why did you say that I was the one who killed him? I didn’t pull the trigger, I didn’t cause a little boy to lose his precious older brother and I certainly didn’t kill the very person I loved like he was my own brother. Why? Why did you take him away from me? Give him back! Give him back or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!!”

You snatch your hands from his blazer to wrap them around his neck, throwing him down onto the floor with legs on either side of him.

Mingyu simply lays there as your hands tighten, eyes staring down at him with nothing but pure rage and fear combined into one, the kind of sight that’s rarely seen so clearly upon your face because you’re always so good at hiding your emotions from everyone. But in this hallucinating state, in your unconscious awareness, you glare down at him with disdain, with the purest form of hate, hands trembling despite having full control and power over him as you tighten your hands, wanting nothing but his death to arrive.

Mingyu’s sight blurs, his breathing constricting, but he does nothing despite it all and it’s the rest of the Reapers that have to shout at you and rip you off him.

“Boss!”

“Boss, wake up!”

“That’s Mingyu you’re hurting!”

“Die! Just die already! Why aren’t you dead? I shot you straight in the head and watched until you no longer breathed so why? Why are you still here?” Yet you’re still trashing about, having to be forcefully removed and dragged onto the floor by three of the Reapers, two grabbing each of your arms, the last behind you and pulling you back by the torso.

Yet despite being a few feet away and the others have turned to Mingyu, helping him back up while he coughs from the chokehold you had him in, you’re still not seeing straight.

“I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him so please…please stop blaming me. It wasn’t me. I promise it wasn’t me.” You look up with desperation this time. More hurt, more pain than anger and rage fueling your thoughts. Your hands come to your head after pushing the Reapers away, tugging at the scalp of your hair, pulling on them like some crazed maniac trying to keep everything in their control and not being able to.

“It wasn’t me, I didn’t do it.” You tremble, knees coming up to your chest, rocking your body back and forth. “It was you, you had the gun, you…..” Your brows knit, trying to think but thinking doesn’t help and you’re only left with more questions. “The gunshot…was you. Mister Butler didn’t….he…”

White eyes, dark pupils, staring straight ahead as if possessed by some sort of spirit.

But he wasn’t possessed. He wasn’t cursed. 

He was dead.

Father killed him and father hovered over you, telling you that it was because of you that he killed him. It was because of you. Because Mister Butler was kind to you. Because Mister Butler loved you. He died because he loved you.

You look up again, fearful as you stare up at Mingyu, hair all a mess and there’s something in your eyes that he notices, something different.

You narrow your gaze, slightly, as if thinking, as if lost in thoughts, and when you turn to the other eyes leveled your way, you scurry a few inches back, hands still on your head as if frightened all of a sudden, as if somehow realizing Mingyu isn’t your father and this manor isn’t full of his people.

These are your Reapers. It’s Mingyu.

“......If you love me……you’ll end up just like him. Just like them.” 

Bangtan.

Whether those vows of love were true or not, they all left in the end.

“You’ll all leave…in the end. You’ll leave….eventually.” You try to search through your memories for something. Anything. “So don’t make any promises. Don’t….don’t love me. You cannot. If you do…you’ll leave. So don’t do anything of those sorts. Don’t…don’t cling to me. Your vows of loyalty, your promises, they’re nothing but lies…nothing but, illusions. Fantasies. Everything that we’re doing now..this? This is nothing but a shitshow. We’re in a circus. You’re the clowns and I’m the ringmaster and in the end…..in the end……the clowns will find a new circus and the ringmaster will be left all alone. Either that or the ringmaster will be the one to abandon the clowns first. So don’t cling to me. Don’t love me. If you do, I’ll kill you myself.”

You turn from them, eyes falling drowsy, headache pushing you to just simply turn for the floor and lay your head there, not wanting to move another inch.

Yeonjun, who’s the closest to your side, crouches down and lends you his lap, and in your unconscious state, you don’t fight him off and just simply give into falling back asleep once again like a lost little puppy crawling towards the hand that feeds him, while the room remains silent for the longest time, just watching you from where they first stood, not moving an inch.

No one knows what to say or do.

It’s Dasom who makes the first move. She kneels beside the second in command, her hand tracing the red ring that has formed around his neck with knitted brows. “Are you alright?”

He turns to her, sees the way she bites against her lower lip. It quivers, her eyes watery but holding back, and when he looks up at the rest of the Reapers, they look just as concerned, just as hurt, even Yuna who no longer has eyes has her back turned, a sniff leaving her.

“How odd,” Mingyu utters softly under his breath but the Reapers hear it all. He looks your way and they watch his move, the way he reaches out to you who’s held in Yeonjun’s arms, sleeping, and brushes a thumb under your eye. “Even in that state…she doesn’t know how to shed a tear.”

He hates being unable to come in full control, hates it when he can’t be the one you can rely on but today of all the days he’s spent with you, he hates today most of all.

Because today, you saw him as the very man who has hurt you more than anyone has. You saw him as your father.

.

.

.

“Are you afraid?”

Dasom knows it, Mingyu knows it, everyone knows it.

That of course he’s afraid, that what had happened this morning frightened him more than anything because out of all the things you’ve thrown at him, you’ve never looked at him with pure rage and anger and most of all, fear.

But you did.

You saw him as your father, as the very man who had hurt you from the very moment you were born into this world, as your abuser, and despite it being for only a moment, Mingyu cannot forget that look in your eyes watching him with so much disgust he loathes every part of him now.

Dasom wants to tell him that it isn’t his fault, that nothing he did triggered you into seeing him as your father, that it was probably just a nightmare you received because there will be times when you’ll “awaken” and act on those nightmares, frightened and not in the right conscious awareness.

She wants to tell him, but watching him from where he sits, she can do nothing but watch on, waiting for his silence to end, to answer her question, and return to the formidable man that he always was.

But perhaps there are days even Mingyu has when he has to give in to his worries and fears, though he never cares to share them and probably always keeps those things to himself. He’s the foundation after all, not just for you but for the Reapers as well, and Dasom guesses perhaps she’s become much too reliant on him just as everyone here has.

Everyone has their moments, especially you, but what about Mingyu who always seems to be level-headed, cool, and calm about everything? As if he has everything under control and nothing can shake him. What shakes him?

The answer is you.

You shake him.

“What if she swims too far down and loses sight of where the surface is?” He asks quietly with his back still turned to her, eyes blankly staring out the window, lost in thoughts. 

He already placed some salve on his neck to soothe the pain and wear down the redness from where you choked him, hiding the white bandage under a turtle neck so that when you do come around once more and is actually consciously aware of your surrounding, you won’t have to question why he had hurt himself.

Dasom knows he’d rather not tell you it was you who had hurt him.

Because despite the fact that their boss tends to feign her arrogance, she cares. She cares in the smallest ways and him telling you that you were the one to have hurt any of your Reapers would mean scarring you.

Hence he ordered them to not utter a word about what happened this morning to you.

They promised to keep their mouths shut because besides you, Mingyu’s words are law.

After all, they’d rather not put more burdens onto your shoulders.

You’ve never hurt any of the Reapers in all the years they came and vowed their loyalties unto you. You’ve never laid a finger on any of them. You aren’t like your father in the slightest. You’re powerful but not abusive, you would never raise a hand at them or tell another soul to do so.

In following your father’s steps, you learned what to do and what not to do, following your own morals while learning to grow strong.

The only person you’ve hurt has been Yuna and Yuna alone.

She mentioned it before, once, and never again perhaps because it’s a memory she’d rather not revisit, but in you taking her eyes away, there were nights when Yuna would pretend she was sleeping and hear your soft little sorrys leaving your lips.

You told her you were sorry for being weak, for having to do such a thing just for your father. You told her you hated your father, that you’d rather he died right then at that moment so that no one else had to suffer for your case.

You told her you’d never allow anyone close to your side, that they had to understand what their positions meant before father could ever fall suspicious ever again. You told her she’d be the first and last one.

Yuna, the very first Reaper, sacrificed everything just to be by your side, proving her loyalty and allowing the rest of the Reapers now to be who they are today; giving their vows unto you and remaining by your side for as long as time can give them.

“If boss loses sight of the surface…won’t you be the one to guide her back?” Dasom asks, her voice gentler than normal, her demeanor calm and steady. “Even in the darkest part of the ocean, you always manage to bring boss back.”

“And if she mistakes me for one of the creatures trying to drag her deeper down?”

“Then you continue pulling her up.” She steps in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder in order to make sure he’s looking right at her when she speaks. “Nothing has ever stopped you from protecting boss, you can’t start getting weak now, Mingyu. You know more than anyone showing an ounce of weakness means allowing boss to drown even further. We’re the only beacons in her life, Mingyu, and she relies on us whether she wants to admit it or not. She relies on us and she relies on you. You’re her foundation, her control. When she gets lost in that storm and out in the sea, you’re the only one who can ground her down and keep her steady again. You’re the only one, Mingyu, so don’t lose it now. Don’t lose control.”

Dasom takes a small moment to look down and take his hand. It’s the first time she’s ever seen them look so small, trembling slightly with fear and uncertainty. Mingyu’s always such a bright man who knows just what to do in every situation without hesitating when it comes to the gang and you. He does everything without faltering and now here he is, falling back for a moment, a split moment, and it’s all because of you.

He’s afraid.

Afraid of failing you, of losing you. No one worries about you in the way Mingyu does and because of that, here he is, shoulders weighed by the heavy burden.

“You’re not just her control though,” Dasom speaks again, her voice gentler, quieter, “you’re ours too.” She looks back at him, steady in her gaze. “We cannot afford you losing your cool, not even for a second. But if the time ever passes for you to shake, come to me and rely on me. Let me be your control.” She takes his hand to press against the beat of her heart, causing Mingyu’s brows to furrow slightly with surprise and conflict. Yet Dasom remains resolute.

“Allow me to be your control, Mingyu, so that boss can continue breathing.”

There was a time he once told her in your moment of weakness, when you were passed onto Yeonjun to be taken care of, that as long as he lived, he lived as your foundation. So if there ever comes a moment when he falters and trembles before your eyes, he risks taking your oxygen away and breaking you further.

Mingyu, more than anyone, is afraid of ever showing weakness before you because he’s the only one you can rely on. The presence of him alone, the steady calm air he exceeds all around, can calm you down and allow your heart rate to slow down and breathe again. When the world seems to shake, when it chokes you, constricting you of air, Mingyu’s the only one who can return the oxygen back into your lungs.

“What did you do?” Yuna’s voice echoes in the back of his memories. A younger Yuna, a Yuna he hadn’t known too well yet in that moment. A Yuna who looked up at him with accusation as she stood guarding you against him.

“I…I-I didn’t-” The younger him then was confused, frightened, as the younger girl shouted at him.

“You obviously did something if milady is—” She paused mid-sentence, frozen, sudden, before turning to you who sat on the floor, hands in her hair, trembling like a leaf.

“You cannot, Mingyu, you cannot show her your weakness, no matter what. Otherwise you’ll trigger her and that is the last thing we want.”

There was a mistake he once did, a mistake that had almost cost your stability. He was young and naive then, thought he knew everything, thought that he was good enough to be by your side. It was Yuna who had to teach him everything, who taught him how to handle you, how to behave around you, everything.

Everything until he learned to take it a step further and help you in ways the little Yuna was unable to. Only then, only when he grew stronger and more stable than Yuna could ever be, did you allow him to be your right hand man, the only man allowed to be near you when your world seems to be falling apart.

So trembling in even the slightest amount in front of you is out of the question. Mingyu doesn’t ever want to risk the chances of you thinking there’s no one else you can rely on. He can’t be weak. Not in front of you. Not ever.

And Dasom understands that.

She understands.

So he takes a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, feeling the beat of her steady heart calm his nerves to remind him of who he is and what he is capable of.

He is Mingyu, your right hand man, your control, your breath of air, your foundation.

When he opens his eyes again, they no longer falter with hesitation as he gives her a nod, allowing her the task of being his control when he needs it.

.

.

.

Actions can be harder to execute despite the constant reminder.

He told the Reapers to all act normal, that they must never mention what happened the day you woke up more hysterical than any other times you’ve been, but still a part of him fears you still have that part of you still in there somewhere, that somehow, someway, you’ll still mistake him of your father.

In all the years he’s spent secretly loyal only to you, Mingyu has always wanted you to be more expressive and more honest with your feelings. In all the years you’ve lived under your father, you’ve never had the courage to act any other way than living in a void of emotions, unable to feel anything.

Not anger, not sadness, not anything.

Or at least, you were always the best at hiding them and suppressing them.

But ever since his death, it’s almost as if your body and mind know of it and has allowed you to begin acting up, to show your emotions a little more, to be more aggressive, and feel less in control of yourself. You dream more, you wake up more often than usual in the middle of the night in a daze, sleepwalking, sleep talking, and awaken with no memories of what you had done during those moments. 

You’ve come to rely on him even more, reaching out for him, getting more anxiety and panic attacks, falling out of control, and having him to reel you back in.

And even though he knows you’re smart enough to understand that he would never do anything to hurt you, that small little moment of you frightful of him will forever be engraved in his mind, whether you know of it or not.

But Mingyu tries his best to remain calm and collected, not wanting to alert you of anything wrong. He doesn’t want your mind drifting off to something else when you’ve already got a handful of problems weighing you down.

Today you sit on a chair that faces sideways from the window, arm resting against the armrest as you look down at your hand, the one wrapped in white bandages from your last visit at the Bangtan manor.

He hopes you don’t notice it got a bit worse after you ignored the healing in order to go after him the day before, but knowing you, you’re smart enough to notice even the slightest of change.

Still, you don’t speak on it.

“Mingyu.” You say and he almost breathes a sigh of relief at the call of his name. “I…” You speak slowly, still in a space where you aren’t fully conscious but you’re getting there, trying to return to reality, trying to reel back in. “I want to visit the kids,” you look up at him, lids heavy but trying, “The Academy.”

He gives you a firm nod, obedient. “I understand.”

And so Mingyu walks off to ready all the things necessary for your departure while you remain in the seat beside the window, staring out with a blank gaze, head lost in the clouds.

You dress warmly in white and a soft style, scarf hiding the bandages around your neck, hands hidden under your long sleeves being as the gloves causes a bit of pain when placed on top of your injured knuckles.

When you step out of the car to find the building you built about two years ago, some bits of memories flash back into your mind.

The children, Ying’s victims, all now reside here after finally having enough power and influence to be able to rescue them. You’re sure all the things they’ve been through probably still cause them nightmares but you hope that in a way, you building them this safe place rather than abandoning them in orphanages has been able to help if even a little.

Your sudden visit, even while Mingyu had called in advance, causes a ruckus.

The kids are all excited from the very moment you step onto The Academy grounds, eyes watching you with awe and fascination from the windows, and when the doors open for you, the headmaster and two other faculty greet you with formal bows leveled respectfully your way.

You shake off the formality and look at Mingyu's way to do the speaking for you.

“Be at ease,” he commands. “Boss is only here to see how things are going. Resume your schedules as they were.”

“We’ll have someone escort you to navigate you through the floors.”

“No need. We’ll just have a look around.”

“Milady!”

“It’s Lady Y/N!

“Children—”

You put a hand up at the headmaster’s scolding and she’s quick to back down. Then with another respectful bow made your way, the three of them walk off to their previous posts, as per Mingyu’s orders, while you turn to the kids who once looked hesitant upon almost getting scolded.

“Look at that,” you stare at the familiar faces, “not so skinny anymore, are you?” Their faces are quick to light up at your familiar approach. “Have you been eating well?”

“Yes, my lady!”

“Look, I’m growing muscles!”

“The adults here are kind, my lady.”

“But don’t worry, we won’t naively trust just anyone here.”

You raise a brow. “Will you?”

“Everything Lady Y/N says is law so of course we’ll abide by anything you say.”

“And what did I say about trusting me so easily?”

They quickly frown with protest.

“But you saved us.”

“And built an academy just for us.”

“And we’re fed well and trained well.”

“And get to sleep in a comfy bed when night falls.”

“How can we not trust you?”

You take a glance at Mingyu’s way when they come at you with all the good deeds you’ve given them, sighing when he gives you a simple shrug. Well, at the end of the day, whether you’d like them to listen to you, kids will be kids and look towards the ones who treat them with the most kindness.

Though their loyalty is the most reliable.

“You look a bit tired, my lady.” One of them notes with a more apprehensive approach, her lips pressed into a small pout, brows creased slightly. Lily stares at you with concern. “You look like how we looked when we were still with Ying.”

“Are you eating well?”

“If you’re hungry, I saved a snack from breakfast this morning. It’s really good, my lady.” Sunoo offers you a sweet bread cake wrapped in a clear plastic wrapper and you simply stand there for a moment, staring at it without a word.

Cakes, desserts, snacks. Things you never got the chance of touching ever since the death of Mister Butler. He used to steal these little things for you. You remember whenever night came, when the whole manor fell asleep with only a few left awake, he would sneak into your room or you would sneak into his and he’d allow you to eat then, away from prying eyes, away from everyone else.

You craved sweets after his death, missed those little moments when he used to make you the happiest little girl in the world. You missed it all.

But you remember clearly when food became something you no longer craved, when it became the very thing you grew to fear and you would only eat the food you knew you could trust in tiny portions, just enough to let you get by.

And now you can’t even eat anything that hasn’t been made physically by the hands of your Reapers. Only the Reapers. So whether Sunoo has good intentions or not, you cannot accept his gift.

“I’m not hungry,” so you state looking away coldly from his gift and for a second you think it may have offended him, that it may have hurt him, but he recovers rather quickly as if coming to understand your ways of doing things.

To them, no matter how cold and ruthless you may be, you’re still their savior. Their first kindness.

“Ah then maybe you’re just tired,” he says, putting his snack away into his pocket again.

“If you’re tired, you should rest, my lady.”

“Oh but maybe she doesn’t like sleeping because of the nightmares.”

“Do you get nightmares too, my lady?”

“Or maybe things are just too busy with you.”

“You’re not overworking yourself, are you?”

“What happened there?” Junho points and when you look down at your hand, you realize he caught sight of the bandages. They all pause in their questions, blinking curiously when you hold your hand up to your face, the memories of that night wanting to slip in.

“I punched glass,” you say and they all collectively gasp.

“Whoa, you’re so cool!”

“It must’ve hurt though!”

“Did it hurt? Does it hurt now?” Hyerim’s eyes follow your hand when you place it back down beside you, her lips slightly agape as she hesitates in her approach for you, fingers fidgeting just as she looks up for your reaction. When you give her no protest in her cautious approach, she takes your hand in hers, holding it gently in her tiny little ones. “I hope the pain eases soon,” she whispers sincerely as her fingers softly glide against the bandages, soothing over your knuckles.

You stare at her for the longest time, the peace in you rising as your anger and frustrations from the past few days, weeks, and months begin slowly calming from their fire.

“I hope the pain eases soon,” she says, and when the rest of the children look at you with that same hope and light flashing in their eyes, you feel a small little ache in your chest as you realize that perhaps, in some ways, the person you are to them is the same as the person Mister Butler was to you.

It hurts.

Ah, it hurts.

.

.

.

Walking along an empty road just a few blocks away from The Academy in order to clear your head, you hear the sound of a click that can only belong to a gun and stop in your steps, remaining nonchalant as you turn at the gun pointed at your head.

A man.

Two.

One with a child held against the guy behind the first one who has a gun to your head, covering the little one’s mouth so he doesn’t make a sound with a gun also to his head. You see tears streaming down his face, the kind little boy who always led the little ones to remain brave and strong in your absence, who offered you a sweet snack when they thought you were hungry.

Sunoo.

“Do anything and the boy dies,” the man before you warns and you look his way, looking bored with your hands held behind your back, simply staring without falter.

And you guess he must have sensed your lack of fear because his brows crease right before there’s a sense of relief in his eyes when you feel a few more presence just behind you.

“Hello there, buttercup. It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

You physically freeze in place.

Buttercup.

There is only one person in this world who has ever constantly called you buttercup and that person is,

“Lady Nari,” the man who holds you at gunpoint greets, and both the two men’s heads fall into a bow, though they don’t forget to keep their eyes on both you and Sunoo.

You hear her heels click when she walks over, feel her close behind you as you take in a deep breath, closing your eyes when you feel her hand on your shoulder.

You’re surrounded and one move will mean Sunoo’s life.

“Now then,” she says, “why don’t you throw away anything that will have your people track you down easily, hm?” She asks, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Unless you want the boy to die?”

Nari knows how much power she holds over you right now and that is an expression you’re far too familiar with. A spoiled little girl who grew up with a loving father who only knew to give his daughter everything she wanted. Just how many years has it been since you’ve last seen her?

None of your Reapers, not even Yuna knows that she’s one of the people who’s done you wrong, and perhaps even Nari understands this situation, which makes her all the more powerful. Who would suspect her when you’re so great at keeping your lips sealed?

You rid of your earrings, tug your necklace off, and throw any weapon on you onto the ground, all the while keeping your eyes on the woman before you, knowing there is nothing that can be done. Not unless you want Sunoo to die.

“What a good girl you are, buttercup,” she grins with brightness, “you’ve always been such a good girl, haven’t you? Though inspection is of course still needed. If anything else is found on you, you’ll receive a nice little punishment, just the way bad girls are supposed to get.”

Nari takes a few steps back, signaling to her men.

“Search her.”

Your back straightens like a tall pole as you hold your breath back while you let your eyes flutter close, trying to manipulate your body into believing the hands that fall onto you aren’t anyone threatening, that you’re okay, that you’ll be okay.

If you give Nari even the slightest bit of weakness to hold against you, you’ll end up worst than what will happen to you now so you keep still, not resisting, not doing anything, as you hear struggles from a few inches away.

“Don’t struggle,” you tell him, meeting the little boy’s eyes straight on as you allow your focus to fall on him and him alone. You try to imagine the peace he gives you, the conversations you had with the little ones just a few minutes ago as your breath threatens to give out but you hold yourself steady, watching him intently because it’s the only thing you can do.

You’ve asked Mingyu to return to the manor, he’s not here right now, and the only person here on your side is a little boy who looks up to you and sees you as his hero, his savior. He’s the only one you can rely on now in order to help you catch your breath, in order to allow you a moment to breathe again.

So you focus on Sunoo and Sunoo alone, and as if he can feel your sense of panic and how he holds some power over being that person to ground you down, Sunoo stops struggling against the man, eyes meeting you straight on.

Don’t be afraid, you wish to say and the message conveys to him when he focuses on his own breathing, trying to look as brave as he possibly can with your eyes solely on him and him alone.

When the search ends, you feel something hit you hard in the head and then the world falls pitch black.

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baby (you complete us) 6

C H A P T E R   S I X 

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: not much, aftermath of dislocation, insecurities, anxiety attack, mc rethinks her decision, boys being sweet, 

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

masterlist // chapter 5 // chapter 7

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———————————————

Previously on baby (you complete us):

“Thank you, Namjoon. You are right. I don’t think I would be too comfortable staying with you all so quickly.” You were shy admitting that, the boys could tell. It had Yoongi scooting down further in his seat. Jin practically pouting at the thought of you not wanting to stay with them, but he knew you needed time.

By the time it was time to hang up, Emilia had come back over and told you that you were going to be leaving in a couple of minutes.

“Well, I have to get going. I should be in Korea within an hour maybe? I’m not too sure.” You tell them, truly thankful for them, and glad they didn’t mention your hip again.

“Okay. Well please let us know when you touch down and when you get to the hotel.” With that, you say your goodbyes and you buckle back up into your seat.

Keep reading

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 49)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Hobi has a bad day, you make it better.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, fluff, Hobi x m/c focus, low self-esteem issues, mild implied/referenced self-harm, falling in love, transphobia, Homophobia, Flashbacks to Sexual assault, Manipulation, coerced sex, Implied emotional abuse 

W/c: 10.9k

A/n: Be mindful the tags with this one! I wouldn’t say that the self-harm in this is like- the most triggering thing I’ve ever written but still there is a SERIOUS homophobia (alpha-phobia?) in this sneek peek and a flash back to a time hobi was coerced into sex by his last pack! ALSO- the lovely @imperiussexrex​ has made a little bily discord server over here- be mindful of the rules and tbh SPOILERS ABOUND- but its been really nice to talk to people so far <3 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

“You people can’t do anything right. How is it that you don’t even know the difference between ranunculus and roses? This is why you only make minimum wage.”

The alpha’s scent stinks up the shop with the smell of moldy fruit, scratching the inside of Hobi’s nose raw. It’s a good thing that Hobi’s boss is back in the trailer overseeing the delivery of hay bales and gourds for fall decorating.  

He’s not there to hear the customer curse under her breath as Hobi apologizes again and hands her back her card. If he was, Hobi might get fired.  

“Fucking pathetic- fucking worthless-” 

Keep reading

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cry me a river | the unprepared

— summary: no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: slight ptsd trigger

— PART 23 / previous post / masterpost

“Would you be able to send this letter to the address written on it? Personally?”

The girl you saved is named Ester, and without fail, people whose lives have been saved often feel indebted to their savior, so you know it would be right to have a little faith in her when you give her this task.

And as expected, she’s nodding without question and goes on her merry way.

It was the first thing you asked of her after all, because when you told her you had no need for the help she wanted to offer you with the injuries you sustained at the party along with wanting to help you feel comfortable in Alexander’s mansion, you could tell she was immediately angsty and in need of wanting to do anything you asked of her.

Nice girls like her often get taken advantage of.

Well, that’s none of your problem.

You take care of yourself with the treatment Ester provided for you, treating the cuts from where the bullets managed to wheeze past you, and bandaging yourself up before leaving the room provided for you.

Little Kiwi comes barking at your feet before you even reach the grand living room and despite not one to give or show affection, you pick the little thing up albeit reluctantly.

“Kid, isn’t it about time you head to sleep? And don’t lick me again, please, that’s quite rude.”

You hear a gentle chuckle from a familiar deep voice and finally walk into the living room to find both Alexander and Asher already there.

“Dogs don’t necessarily understand rudeness, though he listens to you quite well,” Alexander notes at the obedient puppy in your arms. He doesn’t wiggle around or bark and remains nestled where you hold him. When you take your seat on the sofa with a small space between you and Asher, the old man speaks again. “I heard you refused treatment from my people.”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Forgive me, I’m not used to foreign touches.”

He knows you don’t mean “foreigners” per se and narrows his gaze slightly, possibly out of curiosity. “You have quite the skills, young lady, for having an unknown name.”

“My name is Y/N,” you tell him, sitting up. “I am a Reaper, the Grim Reaper of South Korea. My father passed away about a year ago, he was a good friend of your son Karl.”

“Karl.” He rubs his chin thinking about it. “So why have you come to Norway? To meet up with Karl?”

“Karl and I have never been that close, sir.” Of course not, you hate that man. Seeing his face alone will make you want to punch him but you know better than that. So keeping yourself calm, you look away to the side where the windows are, covered by pretty rose gold curtains. “I came here because I quite like the way the sun never sets during this time. It brings me peace.”

“You’re on vacation?” He raises a brow, doubtful, and looks toward Asher for confirmation but the man just shrugs without giving him an answer.

“You could say that,” you reply, and the old man clears his throat.

“It takes someone special to dodge all those bullets without managing any fatal injuries,” he returns to the topic of the matter as he leans back into his seat, an ankle propped onto a knee. “My son never mentioned someone like you, or his good friend.”

“The skills I acquired were not from my father, sir.”

“So you had a different master?”

“I was trained by a Yakuza master. He goes by the name Kitagawa Daisuke.”

Kitagawa Daisuke. Anyone who lives in the darkness knows the name. It’s almost like saying Shakespeare and an immediate ding pops into one's head. Your master is that famous in the underground world.

“No wonder..” Alexander looks at you with fascination now, a small crooked smile curling along his lips, eyes brightening. He knows not just anyone can call themself a disciple of Kitagawa Daisuke and it just further proves a point as to how dangerous the mission will be when you finally go up against your master. That is, if time will allow it. Who knows if you’ll even survive this mission.

You’re just dancing around with death at this point and he’s leading the moves.

“Now that you mention it, you have a sort of aura that you exude in the way I’ve seen with Master Kita. You live up to his name, no disciple of his would have let the enemies’ move confuse her.”

He must be talking about how you managed to recognize the motives of the enemies when you realize the focus was not on Alexander himself but his grandson, Asher Larsen. 

You give the man a small glance before looking down at the puppy who’s now slowly dozing off in your lap. You give him a small scratch behind the ear, doting on him a bit. Who would have thought even the enemies knew the life of a dog mattered more to Alexander than his own grandson.

So Asher was right when he said Alexander doesn’t have favorites, which means that if someone does manage to gain his favor, it wouldn’t just be in your favor but you’d have more eyes on your back more than before.

Sounds like a headache.

But it’s the only way you can get rid of Karl. Because if you gain Alexander’s favor, it’ll mean he won’t blink an eye when you tell him you want his own son dead.

“Master told me to always keep my senses heightened no matter the situation.”

He hums at the answer and in a way, you hope this little attention you’ve gained from Alexander is enough to gain a bit of his favor. They say Alexander doesn’t like people who deliberately kiss up someone’s shoes to get to where they want. He’s probably had enough of those people. He also likes people who have a backbone and knows how to protect themselves.

“How would you like to be my new caretaker for Kiwi?” The proposal Alexander gives has your head perked up his way, feeling a bit dumbfounded and surprised, but he continues before you can reject or accept the offer. “You’re here on vacation, aren’t you? I’m sure Kiwi would love to continue seeing you until it’s time for you to return home.”

Perhaps he knows a bit of your plan. Perhaps he doesn’t. Either way, he’s giving you a great opportunity to remain seen by his side.

“I know it may sound a lot asking a mafia boss but I quite like you, Miss Y/N.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” you shake your head lightly and look down at the now sleeping puppy in your lap before giving Alexander the answer. “I’d gladly accept.”

He smiles, satisfied, and when he leaves after taking the sleeping puppy from you, you’re left alone with Asher who had been silent the whole exchange between you and Alexander.

“I’m impressed, that was quite the feat. No one’s ever gotten this far this fast.” When you look at the man who’s finally speaking up, there’s a small curl up his lips when he looks your way, and you guess this man is usually stoic for the most part. How great you’re earning a bit of favor from both the grandfather and the grandson.

“I guess it’s just in my nature to have people join my side.” You give him a simple reply, one he does not refute, and the day ends with that.

You don’t get a wink of sleep at all staying there in that mansion and you know it’s because you’re in an unfamiliar place. You’ve never been good at adapting to something new. It took some time for you to settle into the Bangtan manor when you first moved there years ago, but unlike how it was there and back at your own manor, Alexander’s mansion gives you some sort of comfort you’ve never had before.

It’s probably the fact that night never comes. Your room has windows placed at a good spot, where the sun seems to shine through even though there are clouds blocking part of it. It isn’t as bright as it was when you first arrived at the airport but when it still lights up the sky around three am, you’re grateful for being here, in Norway.

Norway is pretty in a way Korea has never been and being here, despite the mission you’re on, gives you a sense of peace and calmness Korea has never given you. It’s a foreign country and yet something about it, something about the sun not being allowed to set and give way to the stars and moon, to the darkness, you have the urge to stay here if you could. Forever if possible.

But peace can never truly stay forever as long as you live this life.

You have people to go after, a revenge plot you’re on. Maybe when everything is over, if you manage to survive in the end and meet your last victim without dying, maybe then you can return here.

But first comes earning Alexander’s favor.

“You’re going to be in charge of taking care of his dog?” Hoseok’s face is a bit comical when you relay them the news once morning comes and you arrive back at the place Namjoon has provided for you. “Just what do you know about taking care of dogs?”

“Not much,” you admit as you scroll through your phone in hopes of learning, “but Alexander’s given me a bit of trust so I might as well take the opportunity. Ah, speaking of,” you put your phone down for a second, looking between the two Bangtan men, “don’t the two of you have some experience in taking care of dogs? You’ll teach me, then.”

It’s a request that comes out of nowhere, especially after just dropping the bomb on them, but it’s not like there’s anything else they can really do.

Namjoon sent them here in support for you and despite the awkward air around each of you, you’re one to ignore all signs and pretend everything is and has always been alright.

“Well an important part of a dog’s routine is taking walks,” Jungkook speaks up after being quiet for a while. His brows are slightly furrowed, thinking. “Mr. Larsen has actually given you quite the task.”

He’s right.

Taking a dog out on walks means being out in the open air where enemy eyes are everywhere. If last night proves that Kiwi serves more purpose to Alexander than his own grandson — and the enemies know that — then being the dog sitter isn’t just any mere maid’s job.

They have to be smart, agile, quick, and strong because they’re looking after what equals an heir.

You’re basically Kiwi’s bodyguard.

“Maybe this is his way of testing me.” It has to be. He couldn’t just have trusted a random stranger to take care of something that clearly means a lot to him. Though that begs the question as to why.

Is it because you mentioned Kitagawa as your master? He’s quite well known after all, and well respected at that.

Still, something’s a little weird.

But if you’re trying to get close to the old man, you might as well take advantage of this while not forgetting to remain cautious.

No one can ever be trusted fully. There is always an ulterior motive behind one’s action.

“I have a question, sir.” When you return to the manor a little later that day, the first person you go to is Alexander, who easily allows you into his proximity just minutes after you asked for his time. You thought initially it’d be a while until you get your reply, after all, he’s a Godfather who’s probably busy with all sorts of things, which is why it’s surprising the reply came so soon and was received well.

His butler didn’t lead you to an office, rather, you found yourself walking into a pretty greenhouse that sort of reminds you of the one back at home.

It’s massive in size though, that’s a difference, but you can clearly tell it’s being taken care of well in the way your Reapers takes care of your greenhouse.

“One moment, Miss Y/N.”

Alexander has his back turned to you when you find him towards a corner, with a water can in hand as he personally feeds the plants the amount of water needed with a serene expression on his face.

Kiwi, who had followed you when you were led by the butler, walks over to respectfully nuzzle against his master’s foot.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” The old man comments with a smile once he’s done watering the plants and places the can back in its place.

“It’s a surprise you’re able to keep them alive here,” you utter as you take another look around at the greens all around you. “I have one back in Korea, though my Reapers take care of them.”

Alexander takes a seat on a bench and Kiwi jumps over to lay on his lap. “Taking care of things personally brings me peace.”

“...Does it, now?” In a world where things are always chaotic, you suppose having somewhere to go to for peace is ideal. “I don’t have a greenhouse for personal taste though.”

“Do you grow poison?” He asks and there’s really no use lying.

“Amongst other things.”

He falls silent for a moment, a serene silence, and it’s strange the way he looks at you in a way no one’s ever done before. You’ve seen creepy old men before, met a couple of them personally against your will, but Alexander doesn’t remind you much of them. He stands out further, but in a way that isn’t bad at all and for some reason that brings you another sort of uncomfortable feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. 

It’s strange and foreign, and perhaps he understands the effect he’s made on you because he lets out a light chuckle.

“I used to be just like you, little one.”

Your brows furrow at his words, confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“Always in a rush, never stopping to revel in the scenery.”

Because there’s no time for that. Time doesn’t wait for anyone and the enemies certainly don't. You’ve finally gained some sort of peace after your father’s death but even then, letting yourself go in order to be free from the chains isn’t exactly as easy as one may think.

You’re rushing because you want to reach peace, because you want a moment in time when things finally slows down and you’re okay with it, with the clocks existing, with the time ticking.

Peace doesn’t come to just anyone willingly.

“You’re anxious,” Alexander notes and perhaps you’re uncomfortable because he sees through a part of you that only people you allow in sees.

This is why you hate old people.

They can tell so easily because they’ve been through things.

“If I let time catch up on me, there will be nothing left in front of me.”

“Is that what you believe?” He asks, a hand running through Kiwi’s fur as the little dog begins to fall asleep. “What if what you want is already in front of you? Perhaps you just don’t want to face it because you’re afraid.”

Afraid?

Afraid of what?

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You’re running away.”

Yes.

This man certainly does make you uncomfortable.

Not like the creeps, not like Leehyun, but not like Mister Butler either. Though in a way, there’s something familiar that you sense in him in the way you’ve felt with Mister Butler. As if he has a window to see through your soul.

But you’re sure not all old people know everything. They can only guess from what they’ve been given and seen.

You decide to keep your guard up.

“The question you wanted to ask,” perhaps he felt you trying to run from him so he changes the subject, “What was it?”

Right.

“When I take Kiwi out on walks, I’m sure you realize there may be people out there who will take advantage of those times. I don’t know the streets well and I don’t know who means well and who wants Kiwi dead. So I wanted to ask; the people that decide to come after me during Kiwi’s walk time, do you want them dead or alive when I bring them to you?”

So blunt and straight to the point, Alexander chuckles at that, amused.

“I’m sure a disciple of Master Kita will come to understand who poses a threat and who doesn't. I don’t care about the lives of those who want my little puppy dead. It doesn’t matter who they are, if they come after him, kill them. After all,” his eyes are gentle when he looks down at the puppy, though there’s a glint of danger that flashes in the light of his eyes, “only people with evil hearts will want to hurt an innocent puppy.”

Evil hearts. What a strange way to put it that way.

You get too curious not to ask; “Do you believe we aren’t evil? A little kid might subject us to the same category as them. We all kill after all. It doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t matter who. Killers are all evil in the eyes of some.”

He doesn’t think much on it when he answers your question. “In my eyes, many of us, like you and I, kill only for survival.” You and I, he says. “If an apocalypse were to happen, you’d kill a zombie for survival, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t just it bite you and you certainly wouldn’t let them bite someone you care for. You’d kill them. For survival.”

He looks up, eyes as clear as day. “This business we’re in…we’re in the same boat.”

Killing to survive.

Killing because there is no other choice.

You don’t think you’ve ever met a man like him who seems so sentimental on life as if a part of him is satisfied with what he’s gone through but he also holds some regret, things he knows beyond you, years he’s lived more than you, and has gained wisdom from all the experience.

No one from this business has ever looked in the same lens as he does on life and you hate it.

You hate how it makes you feel.

So you drop the subject and leave the greenhouse, feeling that creepy sense of goosebumps on your body as you go.

When Kiwi wakes from his nap a little after, he comes to find you and you take him out on the walk you promised him before that meeting with Alexander.

The walk is nice, the scenery different from that of Seoul, and the breath of fresh air it allows you to intake with a piece of mind helps you remain calm and collected. Kiwi walks beside you without a leash, his little feet taking you down the paths as if he’s done this a thousand times before, with his little nose curious at every little thing around him.

He doesn’t ever stray away and you guess perhaps even the little one understands the dangers of what it means to be himself. In all honesty, you prefer cats over dogs but you have to admit this isn’t so bad — well, being in Norway helps, you guess.

In Seoul, the streets wouldn’t forgive you for taking a walk so carefreely like this.

But of course, Norway has its own dangers. You are taking care of a prominent figure of a powerful mafia after all.

For the most part, you had been following Kiwi and letting him guide you where his nose leads him, but when the two of you come towards a lake where lies a bridge at the center, the little puppy suddenly stops in his tracks, sniffs the air, before retracing back to you.

Your brows furrow slightly when he steps up to your feet, hiding in between them, and when you hear a small noise out of the ordinary and look up with a calm gaze at the sudden new presence that has now surround the both of you, an exasperated sigh leaves you.

So much for peace and quiet.

“Hey lady, what’re you doing with that dog?” A man asks in Norwegian.

“Dog sitting,” you reply in English.

They look amongst one another, confusion plastered on their faces probably because they’ve never seen you around before and when Kiwi grinds his teeth and growls lowly at them, you put a foot closer to him, trying to ease the little puppy.

“What happened to the old sitter? Dead?” He speaks up again, a brow raised your way. Perhaps he’s testing your ability to understand him so when he speaks in his language, you continue replying in English with perfect understanding of one another.

“Not dead. I’m just a temporary sitter.”

“And who are you? I’ve never seen you around Alexander before.”

“Just a common girl.” You take a small step back seeing the way he reaches for something in his pockets.

“You should know that the streets are dangerous.”

A little chuckle leaves you. “I wouldn’t be trusted with Alexander’s dog if I didn’t know that, now would I? Still, that’s a very bad idea,” you beckon at the gun he pulls out. “You wouldn’t want to do that.”

The corner of his lip curls upwards as he brings his gun forward to his face, playing with it just as his friends start to close in on you. “And why not? Are you afraid, little common girl?”

“Afraid?” You tilt your head back, laughing. “No, no, it’s not me who should be afraid.” He sends you a furrow in his brows at the way you look so relaxed and so you go on. “Alexander has already given me permission to eliminate anyone who poses a threat, which means I don’t have to go easy on you or spare your lives.”

“Really?” He scoffs, taunting you. “One against seven, you really think a little girl like you can take us?”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about me, though you’d be surprised I can totally take you.”

“What?”

“You should learn to heighten your senses, old man, maybe then you’d realize we aren’t the only ones here.” With that signal, someone from the group has their neck slashed from behind and another one gets shot right in the head. 

One by one, they fall as you calmly pick up the scared little dog and stroke along his head to calm him down. He leans into your touch as the two of you ignore what’s happening around you, and once he finally seems alright again, you turn back to where Jungkook and Hoseok are standing, the enemies all dead on the ground.

You take one glance down at the dead bodies before checking the time on your watch. “I’ll inform Alexander and have his people clean this up,” you say as you reach for your phone. “Meanwhile, would one of you like to accompany me back to his mansion? Take on the role Taehyung took back at London?”

Jungkook comes along while Hoseok stays back and the walk back for the most part lies in silence.

Drama only occurs once you return to the mansion, hearing the sound of a familiar voice you haven’t heard in some time now. He shouts angrily you hear it through the halls and when you walk into the living room, you find Karl Larsen with three of his men behind him, reprimanding poor little Ester with Asher standing off to the side, looking bored and exasperated of his uncle.

No one stops him.

“Are you that incompetent? Just how useless are you that my father has to choose a stranger to take over your job? I told you to keep an eye on that mutt and you can’t even do that?”

Huh. Who would have thought Ester was actually Karl’s servant who had been assigned to look over Kiwi before you came in to take over temporarily? Though from the looks of it, when she cowers in fear under his demands, her head lowered, eyes tightly shut, shoulders trembling slightly, she doesn’t like this man so much.

Who does after all?

But she did look a lot more carefree living in this manor, looking after Kiwi under Alexander’s commands. Alexander isn’t known to bring just anyone in to work for him, which means Ester managed to gain his trust. He’s good at knowing who to trust, he wouldn’t just be easily swayed by his own blood’s opinions, so if given the chance, you believe that Ester wouldn’t hesitate to betray Karl.

She’s a sweet girl, you don’t doubt that.

Asher on the other hand, you aren’t too sure if a man like him deserves the benefit of the doubt.

He senses your presence though, unlike Karl and his men, and when he looks up to meet your eyes from the entryway of the living room, he stands up a little more straight, a small curl turning upwards upon the corner of his lips.

Maybe he’s just bored with petty family affairs and has no say in what his uncle wants or does. Family positions are important in the mafia after all.

“Where is she? The new girl?” Karl’s voice snaps back, his eyes bulging and you step towards them despite Jungkook’s caution, knowing the signs of that man. “Bring her to me now, you useless—”

His hand raises in the air and before it can come down at the young girl’s head, you grab his wrist mid-air with your left hand, stopping him successfully. “If you’re really that upset about the change, why don’t you bring it up to your father, spoiled old man?”

His brows furrow tightly when he looks your way initially, before his expression begins to cool and soften when he realizes just who it is that dared to stop him from punishing his subordinate. The strength of his arm weakens and he brings it back to his side, fixing the cuff of his suit, while a smirk plays on his lips as he keeps his gaze on you.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you want to vomit and though for a second looking at that familiar, disgusting smirk on his face causes your mind to want to resurface the memories of all the things he’s done, you keep them back in, focusing on other things to not trigger it. “Look at you, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. What are you doing here in Norway? Came to pay me a visit?”

He doesn’t know what happened to your father, you realize through those words, which is a bit surprising because of how close the two of them were, but then again, after the wipe of your father and his people, it kind of makes sense Karl never got word of your father’s death.

Both Asher and Jungkook are confused about the way Karl is acting so friendly and close to you, as well as the way he just naturally turns his attention from being angry at Ester to invite you to take a seat.

You follow him and settle Kiwi in your lap and see the way he glances at the puppy, a slight bitterness contouring his features before it disappears all too quickly.

He doesn’t like Kiwi, that much is clear, and with the way he addresses you, you can tell this man still thinks you of the naive little girl who would submit to just anyone without fighting back.

“Your words are a lot sharper than they used to be,” he notes, remembering the way you spoke to him. “Seems you’re finally growing into the woman that your father trained you to be.”

With a hand stroking the fur of Kiwi’s, you take a look at his three men. One of them is someone you recognize, the other two are completely new faces.

“Tell me then, how have you been since I left Seoul?”

One year, he came and left — not even one year but a summer, four months — and that was all it took for him to do all the things he’d done.

“I have news to give you, sir,” you say and he tsks at you.

“Come on now, call me what you used to call me. We were close, weren’t we? Don’t treat me like a stranger now, Y/N.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you bite your tongue back, resisting the urge to run from his touch. So with a tight grin, you give him the news he’s been needing to catch up on. “I am the Grim Reaper now..uncle.”

That amused expression on his face falls slightly, masked with surprise and confusion, and he takes one look at Jungkook who stands guard behind you, before returning his gaze back on you, flabbergasted.

“Your father’s dead?” He breathes, not believing it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? How’d he die?”

Telling him the truth now would lead to an outburst from him and you can’t have Jungkook seeing that. Karl is a madman and if he knows of the truth here before strangers outside his and your people, he will definitely forget about the way your true relationship with your father is supposed to be kept a secret from the public.

“I apologize, uncle, preparations for his funeral and my succession took longer than expected.” Jungkook knows those words aren’t true but thankfully he knows to keep quiet.

“I could have helped,” Karl insists and you give him a pressed smile.

It’s strange the way he can’t comprehend just why the daughter of his friend whom he’s hurt many times did not want him involved in her family affairs, but you guess the minds of psychopaths are just like that. They can understand human emotions but they cannot feel them, and so they cannot emphasize with others.

“Do you not remember all the things you’ve done to me?” You want to ask him. “Do you not recall what you and father had done? Why would I want your help?” But you bite your tongue back just as Kiwi stirs from your touch, probably sensing a change in you.

The more you face the people who have done you wrong, the harder it is to keep the facade, you realize. Namjoon once said to stop before it all breaks you and you told him broken things cannot be broken even more but perhaps they can.

They can.

You’ve reached your breaking point before, not just once or twice, and yet it seems the world has just proven to you that glass can keep shattering and shattering until there is nothing left but dust.

Are you prepared to turn into dust?

You are. You’ve said it before.

“A broken glass can never mend itself to the way it used to be, the only thing it can do is break even more.”

You were prepared, your body was, but is your mind prepared? Will your mind ever be prepared?

No one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain.

Kiwi whimpers on your lap, his head nuzzling into the palm of your hand when you stop stroking him. They say that dogs can smell human emotions and in turn, adopt them as their own, and hearing the distress whimpers, you try to return to Karl and give him a reply and yet nothing happens. You can’t even open your mouth to speak. You feel frozen on the spot.

Why now? Why now, whynow, whynow,whynowwhynow?

Footsteps are heard upon the silence of the room. “What’s making my Kiwi sound like that?” A low rumble demands an answer but you remain still, unable to move.

You feel paralyzed.

Kiwi looks up at his master’s voice for a second before going back to nuzzle against you and lend you his warmth, and while the people in the room stand up straight at his presence, Karl even going up to greet his father, you remain planted on the sofa.

Alexander ignores Karl to walk over to where his puppy is. He takes a glance your way, with Asher confused and Jungkook concerned and a little panicked because of the state you’re in, but rather than making this a big deal and reprimanding you for causing his puppy to sound the way he does, Alexander instead remains calm.

“Come here, Kiwi,” he calls, and though the pup hesitates at first, looking between you and his master, he eventually jumps up and into Alexander’s arms. “Karl, I’ll deal with you later. Right now I’m too busy to entertain guests.”

Though Karl looks like he wants to protest at first, he nods in reply, knowing he cannot talk back to his father. You were hoping he’d just leave it at that and go ahead with his men but for some reason, he just has to turn to you.

“My deepest condolences, Y/N. Let’s have tea to catch up next time, yeah?” Unable to grasp the situation, he reaches out to place a hand on your cheek, a smile on his face, before he arches his back straight again to bid Alexander goodbye.

In that moment, you stand, though it’s only because staying on that couch feels disgusting now having to sit still and do nothing when he reached out to touch you. You hate the touch, it burns you, but you remain silent when you stand a little behind Alexander, nodding Karl goodbye, and only once he leaves does the room feel a little easier to breathe in.

Just a little.

.

.

.

“Should I call Mingyu?” Jungkook asks when you return to the room Alexander prepared for you that first night you met him. He watches you with keen eyes and observance as you walk further into the room, away from the door, eyes still refusing to look anyone in the eyes, silent with a blank expression. “Or..should I leave the room?”

You don’t give him an answer but you’re thinking.

How far is it from here to the manor Namjoon prepared for you? A couple of minutes away by vehicle, which means it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to come here. But him coming here would mean a hassle because then you’d have to let the people here know that Mingyu’s one of yours and you don’t feel like interacting with anyone right now. A letter in your handwriting wouldn’t suffice either because they don’t know your handwriting.

You could honestly call Ester and describe Mingyu’s face to tell her he’s with you but that would mean interacting.

Jungkook could leave the room and yet the thought of him leaving gives a small dread in the pits of your stomach because you hate being alone and left in an unfamiliar place and right now he’s the only thing that’s familiar to you.

Familiar.

How funny that this familiar person left you to fend for yourself and gave you his cold shoulders when you needed him most.

And yet there’s no other choice.

So just like back in London when you familiarized yourself with Seokjin’s warmth and kindness for that split second, you turn around to face Jungkook.

He stands far from you, having not moved from the door since the two of you walked in, and a part of you hates that despite what he’s done to you, you know Jungkook is a man with natural kindness and would never do anything that would harm you on purpose. You see it in the way he keeps his distance, in the two questions he asked, how he doesn’t try to approach you, that unlike Karl who doesn’t know how to take a hint, he understands your fear of being touched by men even though you did allow Yoongi to hold you and poked Seokjin slightly on the shoulder.

He respects your boundaries. He always had, he always did.

So why did it have to end with him giving you the cold shoulders and pretending he hated you? Why did things have to turn out the way it did?

You’re so tired. Tired of everything.

“Come here,” you call for him, and you hate how even when you give him permission to come close, he still hesitates, concerned for the state of your mind.

When he approaches, his steps are slow, and once he’s inches away from you, you hold out the palm of your hand.

“I want you to help me with something,” you say, “you don’t have to do much, just..stay still and…and give me your hand.”

His brows are knitted, eyes staring down at your palm as if this isn’t a good idea. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, feeling conflicted. “Hoseok should have been here, we should have switched places. He would’ve been a better choice in—”

“I know Hoseok would have been the better choice but we can’t turn back time now can we?!” Your patience is starting to wear thin and when he flinches a little at the way you raise your voice, your own eyes widen at what you’d just done. Shocked at how easy it was to lose control, and when you begin to spiral out of fear for raising your voice at him, you put your hands in your hair, trembling.

“I’m sorry, please just…just help me, Jungkook. You have to replace what he did. I hate it, I hate his touch, and right now I’d rather feel your touch than his so please…please?” You look up at him, not caring that you’re pleading and looking desperate.

When he sees it, sees the way your eyes gloss over with a glaze of water, at your panicked tone and your begging for his help, he gives you his hand.

You take it and press his palm onto your cheek, over that burning feeling from where Karl touched you, and the peace that you yearned for doesn’t come right away. You struggle for a bit and your legs almost give in from the weakness but Jungkook’s right there to hold you up and bring you over to the bed so that you don’t have to rely on your legs. 

He remains standing before you, watching as you rest your eyes while keeping his hand pressed to your skin.

It takes some time for the storm to wash away and for the calm to walk over but it comes, eventually, and when it does come, it isn’t in the way it is with Mingyu. Jungkook doesn’t give you the sort of calm that your second in command gives you, though you expected it because no one can replace Mingyu’s warmth.

The sort of calm Jungkook gives you follows with pain and grief over what had been lost all those years ago.

His warmth, his presence, his puppy-like self following you around, willing to do anything and everything for you. He’d always been such a quiet man who follows the rules well, who does everything with great effort, who is sometimes too naive and gets roped up in Jimin’s antics and gets scolded for things he didn’t do.

Always there to lend you his jacket when you shivered in the slightest way, always there to protect you from anyone that bothered you, noticing the smallest things, and though you relied on him for a lot of things, he relied on you in turn as well.

You understood him in ways the others couldn’t, the two of you in love like those two innocent little kids who were finding out what it meant to love someone for the first time. Soft and gentle, a bit awkward and clumsy.

“They didn’t have the drink that you like but I got you…” He walks back with a hand holding onto a glass of something for you to drink, but in the middle of his sentence, Jungkook’s expression falls. “...Something happened.”

Immediately, he’s shifting his head around to try and find who it was that approached you tonight but before he can get too far, you’re grabbing ahold of his arm and pulling his attention back on you. 

“It…nothing happened,” you insist with a bit of panic on your expression, afraid of what Jungkook might do out in public like this, all the while trying to see if you can catch of glimpse of Namjoon anywhere on the floor. Thankfully he isn’t around, otherwise he’d be able to also tell something was wrong with one look your way.

There are days when hiding your emotions are easy and there are other days when it’s a little more difficult. Like on the days when people make you uncomfortable and you just can’t seem to hide it well. Those days are hard.

And Jungkook, who looks back at you, clearly doesn’t buy your little protest. “Y/N, I need you to just point out—”

“Please.” You squeeze his biceps, holding yourself close to him, pleading with your eyes as you look up at him, and Jungkook immediately recognizes just what those eyes are trying to tell him;

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

You’re frightened, he realizes, and after a small look around the room to check his surrounding, he brings you in close to him and keeps you by his side as he takes your hand and brings you around to an empty space where the two of you can be left alone together.

“Is there anything you need?” Is the first thing he asks you as he sits you down on a seat in the empty room, but you simply shake your head and squeeze his hand tight.

“Just you,” you say in a quiet voice, and Jungkook stays with you that night without ever leaving your side, all the while you simply hold onto the touch of his hand, the feel of it a comfort unlike any other.

His touch reminds you of those memories, of the past and the tears and the smiles, and though you hate the pain that it resurfaces, you’d rather revel in this pain than the pain of remembering the memories with Karl.

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the pawns

— summary: when pawns are used well, they are the soul of the chess. you might as well take advantage of what you’re given

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: none

— PART 22 / previous post / masterpost

“Why did she call you buttercup?”

“Buttercups reminded her of me,” you answer Yoongi as take your steps into Bangtan’s manor for the first time in weeks. “Bright and yellow, pretty little thing.” You pause. “And a weed in her path.”

“She was never on your list?”

“Nari had always been insignificant,” you say with arms crossing over your chest, wanting to leave it at that. 

But Yoongi isn’t satisfied with the short answer. “You never told me how the two of you got involved.”

“What can I say,” you shrug, “the Vipers were our ally so inevitably, we met. I caught her attention with my face and she grew intrigued and envious.” He told you his history so you might as well entertain him with yours. Just a little though. Only a little. “I’m sure you know it better than I, your little sister—”

“She’s not my sister.” He’s quick to cut you off, stern and firm. Yoongi isn’t someone who cares too much about the things that leave people’s lips. He lets them yap off as much as they’d like, so when he does ever speak up on things, you know just how serious he is.

So you nod, sending him a tight smile. “Right, right. That little celery,” you correct yourself, “she can get a bit crazy when she doesn’t get something she likes, or when the attention is shifted away from her.”

“She’s never had her attention shifted away in the times I lived in that manor,” Yoongi says and you give him a blank look.

Small little Yoongi, probably just the same as you who never received attention and love and was just seen as nothing more than an heir who was meant to fulfill his role. On the other hand, you never saw your father loving another, or even having the ability to love at all. There’s a bit of comfort knowing your father was incapable of feeling, so he had no one to show it to and you had no one to grow envious of, even though it did take you a while to get smart about understanding him. Yoongi on the other hand had to grow up seeing his father show his affection to someone else. 

He got out quicker than you though, and fled the scene before things could go downhill.

You came to a realization too late. It was your body that had to force you to “wake up.”

“So imagine what it was like when that moment finally came to her.” Up the stairs and to the right. It’s a bit funny you’re getting used to navigating through this manor like it’s your own. Once upon a time, it was yours. “The spotlight switching from her to me gave her quite the scare.”

Yoongi opens the door to Namjoon’s office and you walk in casually.

“I met her before I met you,” you say and he gives a moment of pause before following you right in when you take your designated seat, the same seat you’ve always taken whenever you walk into this room.

Namjoon’s already sitting across from you, taking a sip of coffee from his cup with Seokjin stood to his side as his second in command. Yoongi takes his position on his leader’s other side while Mingyu stays to your right.

“Do you know Alexander Larsen?” You start without hesitation, leaning back into your seat and trying to make yourself comfortable.

In truth, you will never get comfortable.

“Alexander Larsen?” Seokjin raises a brow at your question. “You don’t mean from the Norwegian mafia, do you? You’re not talking about the Kingsmen, are you?”

“So you do know of him.” You cross a leg over the other, feeling satisfied.

“You want to go after an old man?”

“It’s not the grandpa I want to go after, it’s his son.”

“Karl Larsen?” He shares a brief glance with Namjoon, expression marked with hesitation. “That’s a bit…”

You ignore his trailing comment to continue your point toward Namjoon. “I’d like to get close to gramps and I know you have connections to do so.”

“He’s a don, Y/N. A Godfather. A Norwegian Godfather,” he stresses. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.” Right from your proposal, he’s already denying his offer to help but you’re not about to back down. 

“You told me I could use you as my pawn,” you remind him of the contract the two of you made a few weeks ago. “You aren’t supposed to ask me questions and force me back on my plans just because a certain man I want to go after happens to have a Godfather as his father. If I get close to Alexander, my plot against his son would be much easier.”

“It isn’t easy getting close to Alexander,” you hear a different voice coming in through the door but you don’t have to look to know that it’s Hoseok. “Going after a Godfather is the equivalent of signing off your death certificate.”

“Not to mention Alexander is linked to the Italian mafia and you know how dangerous they are.” You roll your eyes when Jimin follows along.

It feels like being scolded all over again.

“Why’re you leaving the scope of Korea?” Taehyung asks.

“Are you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?”

“I said no questions,” you point directly at Jungkook who in turn ignores it by looking away, and return to the boss who sits at the center of them all. “If you’re scared, you can just say that.”

Namjoon frowns at your words, shaking his head subtly. “I can get anyone for you, Y/N, but I don’t want you messing around with foreign mafiosos.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re trying to walk into a battlefield.”

“The whole world has been a battlefield, Namjoon, and just because this particular boss is tougher than other soldiers out there doesn’t mean it’s enough to have me back down. I’m not backing down. I want Karl Larsen dead.”

“It’s dangerous territory.” Still, he denies you the help.

You let out a frustrated grunt. “That’s what you said the last time I proposed leaving Korea.”

“Yeah, and remind me what happened last time?”

Hwang Leehyun.

A living nightmare.

You cross your arms across your chest when he hits you with that, their eyes piercing without any hints of backing down and you suddenly have this urge to punch someone in the face. It feels like being in the eyes of your father all over again, being told you cannot do this or that, that you must do that and this. Like a child who does not, who can not, make her own decisions without the permission from her parents.

“Why do you even care whether I make it out okay or not?” So you snap with a click of your tongue, anger fueling. “This is my mission and my plot against the person I want dead.” You turn to Hoseok. “I’ve already told you I don’t care what happens to me down this path I’m walking on. If life decides it’s done with me, then so be it.”

If I die, I die, you told him once and Hoseok, frustrated in his own sense, turns to your right hand man instead of facing you.

“Aren’t you going to stop her?”

When all eyes fall on him, Mingyu has to take a moment to spare you a glance. You, who shoots a glare at Hoseok for even thinking of looking to him rather than addressing you. And knowing just how you feel, your commander answers in a calm tone.

“Whatever the boss wants, I provide and clear the path to let her get through. It is not my duty to stop her, therefore I hold no protest.”

Hm. Good answer.

“Just what are you feeding your Reapers?” When Hoseok turns back to you, you send him a cheeky grin.

“Loyalty. They’ll always take my side no matter what wrongs I’ve committed.” You look at the rest of them. “You should know about that.” And a bit of awkwardness they clearly don’t enjoy too well walks in, but you decide to ignore the effect those words had on them. “Mingyu knows his place and he knows what his title entails. It’s not his job to stop me. He’s here to clear the path for me and back me up, all the while doing what he can to get me back on my feet if things start going downhill and provide protection.” You give a little pause before adding. “You should learn from him.”

“The last time we let you do what you wanted, you ended up hurt.”

You frown at Seokjin when he says that, eyes avoiding his because you know just what he’s trying to imply. That moment of weakness you had turning to him. Why did you make that mistake?

You were just desperate to find a safe haven after what Leehyun did.

“The only thing with Karl is that he’ll get out my angry side, that’s all,” you say, resting back into the seat you’re in. “The situation won’t be the same. He wasn’t a creep, just some asshole psychopath who should have minded his own business.”

You and your stubborn streak. Namjoon knows you don’t have it in you to let your plans fall to a pause just because someone declines the help you’re seeking for. So he lets out a sigh, fingers pressing into his temples. “Like Hoseok said, getting a Godfather involved in your plans is the equivalent of choosing death.”

It doesn’t matter what sort of thing Karl has done to you to earn your anger. He’s still a son of a powerful man.

“I know,” still you say with acknowledgment, unwilling to back down. “But there will always be risks when it comes to going after people, and in this case, I’m walking a fine line between life and death, but as long as I can prove my worth and show Alexander that I’m a better pawn than his son, I have a higher chance returning here safe and sound. And besides,” you intertwine your fingers into one another and have your hands sit on your lap, “when it comes down to it, you’re all great at getting out of a sticky situation. If worse comes to worst, I’m sure I can rely on my pawn’s protection. You’re not trying to go back on your words again, now are you, Kim Namjoon?”

A promise is a promise.

A vow is a vow.

The Reapers have learned to master it and have proven again and again that their pledge to you is something that is unshakable. 

Namjoon asked you to collapse into him. They vowed to never let you fall.

And yet here you are now, a shattered mess of glass.

It looks like your choice of words gets to him because Namjoon’s shifting in his seat, uncomfortable, but he has no reason to say no to you now, not after you’ve brought the contract he wrote back into his face. And the past that left you scarred.

“.....I know someone who might be able to get you in contact with Alexander,” he finally says, “but it will be up to you to figure out how to get him on your side.”

The corner of your lips curls upward. “That’s all I need.”

And before the conversation can move on, Mingyu bends down to your side, whispering something into your ear. “They need you at The Academy.”

You give him a nod and uncross your legs to begin standing again. “Let’s pick up this conversation another time, yeah? You should prepare for my absence for at least a month or more. It won’t be easy getting close to a Godfather, after all.”

And with that, you walk off with Mingyu tailing along, leaving the seven of them still unsure about all of this.

.

.

.

“Sunoo refuses to sleep, my lady. I used to wake up to him trashing in his sleep and having to force him to wake up and ask him what was wrong but he never tells me anything. Now, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I just see Sunoo on his bed, wide awake. The teachers and I have tried to help but…nothing’s helping him.” 

Jungho stands with his head lowered as he fiddles around with his fingers, those little shoulders of his trembling slightly, and when you look at the headmaster for confirmation, she simply nods.

“So you asked the headmaster to call for me, yes?” The little boy nods at your question. “And why is that, Jungho? Why do you believe I can be of help?”

“I-I don’t know, my lady,” he answers truthfully, “but…Sunoo is my best friend and…and I want to help him get better so I thought…I thought that you would have a higher chance at helping than I.”

“You believe that I, someone who doesn’t know him quite as nearly as you do, who has spent years growing up with him, can be of better assistance?”

Jungho nods again. “Because..”

“Because?”

“When he did sleep…Sunoo used to call for your name.”

A droplet falls onto the floor where his feet stands, then another is quick to follow along, but Jungho keeps his head buried against his chest so that all you can see is the back of his hair. So you give Mingyu a look and he nods in return, turning to the child with a hand on his shoulder to lead him away while you head for the dorm the two of them have been assigned to.

Sunoo sits with a blank stare when you enter the room and shut the door behind you. Under the little boy’s eyes are dark bags that shouldn’t be there. He looks worse than the last time you saw him, a little daintier, not quite as skinny as he used to be when he worked under Ying but he might as well be getting back to that stage.

To that little child who was all skin and bones, his clothes too baggy for him when he’d look up at you determined and unwilling to give up hope.

He’s grown since then, putting on some meat, cheeks less hollowed, and a little more life in his physique, but that little spark of hope he had in him is dim. He hasn’t even realized you’ve walked in and Sunoo is someone who’s been taught to stay on high alert due to the fear instilled in him.

You’ve been trying to heal these children but just what are you doing if he’s still like this?

“Sunoo.”

When you call his name, he looks up with a slow reaction, though his eyes widen at the sight of you as expected. “My lady?” His voice is small and when he goes to shuffle from his bed to reach the floor, his legs give in underneath him when he tries to get to you.

You grab ahold of him before he can hurt his knees, picking him up effortlessly and setting him back onto the bed. He sits there with wide eyes searching for something, little fingers gripping onto the sleeve of your shirt a little too tight it turns white.

There is fear in his eyes, you realize. 

The fear you never got to see when he hid them in that room the two of you were in because he wanted to be brave, because he wanted to uphold the promise he gave unto you.

A child shouldn’t have gone through that.

“When was the last time you’d eaten?” You ask him, knowing that asking him if he’s eaten at all is dumb because it’s clear he hasn’t eaten in a while. You take the hands that balled onto you, placing them onto one another in his lap but knowing not to let it go. It probably gives him comfort knowing he can physically touch you.

“I…” His voice shakes so he’s quick to shut himself up with his teeth biting onto his lower lip. It quivers so he lowers his head and you give him the privacy by standing from the floor to sit beside him on the bed instead.

He keeps himself as silent as he can, and you watch the way he struggles, the way those little shoulders tremble in the way Jungho had and the way you remember the rest of them did when you rescued them that night. 

Hiding. Hiding.

All for you.

You feel some sort of hatred boiling within you because you know that all this hiding is for you and you hate yourself for doing this to them.

“Do you know something, Sunoo?” You let one hand remain holding his while the other reaches behind to rub along his back. “There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying.”

He remains quiet but there’s a little jostle in his body when you say that. As if he’s surprised, as if he can’t believe you’d just said that.

“Do you believe crying is a sign of weakness?” You ask him and he gives you a small, honest nod. “Why do you believe that, Sunoo?”

“Because you hate it.”

Of course the reason comes back down to you. You’ve instilled something in them your father instilled in you. That crying is weak, that loving is dumb, that emotions must never be revealed to another because no one will care for you if you fail at these three tasks.

You’re becoming your father.

You want to punch the wall, kick something, anything, shoot a bullet into someone’s head, bring out a knife, and stab it into something. Anything.

But you know not to, not before a child, so rather than wanting to take out your anger onto something, you let yourself seek peace in the child.

You cup Sunoo’s face and force him to turn your way so that he cannot hide, so that you can allow yourself to see the tears that splash onto those eyes of his, and when they fall out from the corners of his eyes and you see the way he watches with surprise and redness in his pupils and on his cheeks and nose and lips, you press your forehead against his, forcing him to stop running away.

“There is nothing in this world that will make me hate you for crying,” you repeat your words to him once again because it’s hard. It’s hard trying to find any other words to comfort him because you’re bad at it, because you don’t know how to do it without giving a part of yourself to him. “You are seven, Sunoo. You are supposed to cry when something hurts you.”

“...” You see the way his lips quiver rapidly before he allows more tears to form along his waterline and inevitably fall.

“Do not bite your lips, you will hurt yourself.” He tries to remain silent but you refuse to let him, swiping a finger to let him loosen up, and with your permission, Sunoo cries as a child should.

He voices his frustrations, lets out the screams he’s been holding in, and cries as loud as he can while you hold him in your arms, covering his head into your chest so that he can still feel your presence and know that you aren’t going anywhere. That you’re accepting him. That he doesn’t need to hide from you.

Have you ever cried like this?

So loud and broken?

You did once. So many times. So many years ago.

When you were scared and frightened. When you had Mister Butler there to hold onto you when you needed to let the tears out.

“Do not bite your lips, you will bleed.”

He was the one who taught you that it was okay to let it all out when you cried, that it was okay to be loud, that you didn’t have to fear anyone hearing you.

It feels like a distant dream more than anything, however, because ever since the first few days of being sent to the White Room after Mister Butler died, you had let the fear return to haunt you once again. The fear of being loud. Succumbing to the silence.

Fearing the noise.

“You were gone, my lady.” Sunoo’s voice allows you to return to reality. “You were..you were dead, my lady.”

“...Was I?”

“I dreamt it,” his voice croaks. “She killed you.” So those were the nightmares that feared him into refusing to sleep when he needed it. He dreamt of your death, of him being unable to get you out of that situation.

You admit if it weren’t for Yoongi, Nari would have most definitely snapped and actually ended you right then and there. Yoongi saved your life and lost an eye as a result.

“I’m right here, Sunoo. I’m still alive.” You make sure he knows when you squeeze over his body a little tighter.

Sunoo leans in closer, nuzzling into your embrace.

“I-I know but…but the sun will set again and you’ll leave and…and what if that gentleman hadn’t been there with us? You would have…you could have…”

A sun setting.

The darkness.

The dreaded darkness.

You know just how Sunoo feels because you still fear the darkness. You still hate it when the sun sets because it means absolute darkness until the sun decides to rise again hours later. Hours that feel like days and weeks and months and years. Hours that seem to tick like the seconds are running a year too late. Hours that have you staring straight at the ticking clock, begging it to go faster and faster but it never seems to go as you ask.

That’s why all the clocks in the manor have been either destroyed or thrown away.

Living with your father still alive, you were unable to do things your way but ever since his death, you’ve reorganized lots and lots of things to accommodate your wants and needs.

The clocks are all gone.

“Do you want to come to Norway with me?”

Sunoo looks up suddenly at the suggestion, his brows furrowed with disbelief and for a second you want to take it back because you know it’s a bad idea. You’re there to kill someone after all, to exact your revenge, and having Sunoo in that environment won’t be good.

But this child needs you and he needs the light.

“Northern Norway is a country where the sun does not set during summertime, so you do not have to fear for the darkness.” Once upon a time, you spoke of a wish to visit the Land of the Midnight Sun. Norway. It’s funny the way things are piecing together, funny how no matter how much you want to run away from your past, it always seems to catch up to you. “Jungho will come as well, so you do not have to be alone and so he does not have to sleep here by himself.”

“And the others?” He always thinks of the others. Sunoo is a big brother to all the kids and he keeps strong for them so you know he must be worrying about them feeling left out but this is a foreign country you’re visiting to exact revenge. The less kids, the better.

“They will have to stay. Norway will be dangerous, Sunoo,” you tell him half the truth, not wanting to be too transparent but knowing that letting him believe this will be nothing but a vacation and letting him stay naive will not be good for him.

Kids have to know. The more aware they are, the better prepared they will be.

“But maybe in the future, I can allow for field trips in The Academy.”

“Really?” He sounds a bit brighter at the thought.

“Only if I can get stronger,” you tell him. “Though that may or may not happen and if it does, it will be in the far future.”

“Why do you say that, my lady?”

You wipe the tears from his face when he appears to be calming down. “Because there are still a lot of people who underestimate me or see me as a threat and wish to do something about it.”

“Like that lady?”

“Like that lady.” You take the tissue box from his nightstand to hand it to him and watch as he goes on to blow his nose. “So until people learn not to mess around with me, until my name alone brings fear to them, you’ll have to wait to be allowed to do whatever you want.”

“..Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.” You press a hand to his head, smoothing his hair down. “You won’t have to confine yourself in this school anymore. All of you will be allowed to go anywhere you want, whenever you want. No one will be able to mess with you and you won’t have to fear for your safety. Though that comes with learning how to properly defend yourselves. You will do that for me, won’t you?”

Sunoo is quick to nod happily. “I’ll learn to protect myself and I’ll learn to protect my brothers and sisters. And you too, my lady.”

“That’s right. So until then, be a little more patient, alright?”

.

.

.

“You…please tell me you’re joking. You’re bringing children to Norway?” It’s comical the way Seokjin runs his hand down his face as he tries to fathom what you’ve just told him. He looks more stressed than he’s ever been before. “Namjoon’s not going to agree to that.”

“Why does Namjoon’s opinion matter?”

“You never mentioned bringing children to the mission was going to be part of the plan!”

“They aren’t. I’ll just need an extremely safe house where it’ll be hard for anyone to locate to ensure their safety.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and you want to laugh a little because despite the fact that Seokjin appears to always look calm and collected, he tends to lose his cool easily. He doesn’t get upset but he stresses a good amount. “Why’re you bringing them along in the place?” He asks and you look away.

“I’m not obligated to tell you.”

He grows more agitated. “Don’t tell me you’re going to exploit them into helping you with getting close to Alexander?”

“You think I’m that shallow?” You give him a deadpan expression. “They’re not in any part of the plan. Just think of it as them leaving for a field trip.”

He rests a hand on his temples, takes a moment to breathe as he takes a small lap around a small invisible circle before speaking again. Level headed. “Field trip. Right. As if you aren’t going out there signing your life away to Alexander Larsen!”

Not so level-headed.

He’s losing his cool and you grin at how he tries so hard to keep calm but eventually gives in. “If you’re that worried, why don’t you tag along? Come before the rest of you come when it’s time to take action.”

“I can’t,” Seokjin grunts as he runs a hand through his hair. “Hoseok and Jungkook are already assigned to go with you and I have to stay by Namjoon’s side. He’s a wreck without me.”

“Of course he is.”

He glares your way before continuing. “He’s not going to allow you to take the kids.”

“Come on, Kim Seokjin. You’re the Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon’s right hand man, the only one who can get through to him when his stubborn ass refuses to let anyone talk him down from his decisions.” You give him a small poke on his arm, teasing a bit, and Seokjin takes note of the way you feel a little comfortable touching him even in the slightest bit. “I’m sure you can cool him down once he receives news that I’m bringing Sunoo and Jungho along.”

“Cool him down?” Not even convince him to agree but to cool him down. Meaning you aren’t backing from your decision, and Seokjin close his eyes as he takes in another deep breath, praying to God to allow him to keep his patience because he knows he’s stuck dealing with two stubborn people where one does whatever she wants and the other is easy to rile up when the right buttons are pushed.

And you know just the right buttons to push.

“Good luck buddy, I’ll see you when I see you.” With that, you salute him a goodbye and walk off with a grin plastered on your face.

.

.

.

“Y/N?”

The man Namjoon sets you up to meet in Norway is tall in the figure, with blonde hair combed neatly back, and a black suit to match with piercing green eyes that you’re sure to have probably earned many women in his life to swoon.

He’s quite a looker; handsome and tall and carries an aura of authority.

“Asher Larsen.” You say his name in perfect English and extend a hand out to shake it just briefly.

He takes a seat across from you, brows a bit furrowed, jaws set tight. “I can get you in to meet my grandfather but whatever it is you wish to do is none of my business. That will be the farthest I will do for you.”

“Of course. That’s all I need.”

Asher Larsen, grandson of Alexander Larsen, Karl’s nephew, and an intelligent man amongst the Kingsmen. You aren’t sure what Namjoon’s told him about you or the mission in general but he seems like the type who’ll only care about something that he’s actually interested in. And clearly, whatever you’re doing here, he has no intention of getting involved. He’s probably witnessed a few similar scenes before so he can probably guess what it is you’re after, which makes your job a lot easier.

In London, Taehyung was assigned to stay with you during the majority of your plot. Norway, as Seokjin said, Hoseok and Jungkook are here by your side, but unlike London, you won’t have someone here on your side to give you much aid in the way you had Hyunjin.

Asher is only here to be a bridge. Nothing more, nothing less.

He takes you to a private party that night where you walk in by his side as his guest, and for some odd reason, things already begin to spiral as a commotion is heard not long after your arrival.

“Do you often have your security breached like this?” You turn to Asher who gives you a quizzical expression.

“You mean this wasn’t you?”

“To try and grab your grandfather’s attention?” You laugh a little. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? If it was me behind this, it’d only want him to make an enemy out of me, and that’s not what I’m after.”

No one’s by your side tonight, it’s a private party after all, and though you’re sure your Reapers, along with Hoseok and Jungkook, aren’t too far away for you to leave and make an escape before something goes wrong, somehow you don’t feel the need to run away even when the chandelier from the ceiling falls and shatters glass all over the floor.

“How interesting,” is what you utter when the bright lights of the party fall dim and all that’s left is the light of the dawn sky from above the small, circular glass ceiling.

“Do you care one bit about your safety?” Asher questions you when he sees every other guest making an escape while you remain standing where you’ve been the whole time. He doesn’t look like he’s in a state of panic, and you guess he’s probably used to these things. Who wouldn’t be when you’re born into this business?

“Of course I do, but—”

“You should leave before something goes wrong.” He takes your wrist and pushes you towards the emergency exit, but you just can’t seem to run.

“Asher.” You look around, eyes sharp and quick. “Where’s your grandfather?”

Asher looks exasperated with you. “When things like this happen, my grandfather’s the first to escape. Now—”

“Something’s odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“The party started an hour before we arrived, right? So why was it that the second we walked in, they decided to stop it then? Why when you arrived?” You look towards the entrance door that’s now closed and blocked off, the chandelier that fell at the center of the grand room, just a few feet away from where the two of you were standing.

Luckily no one seems to be on the verge of death and there are people helping some guests leave from a side door, but besides that, there doesn’t seem to be any present physical threat in this room. One might believe they’re not here because Alexander isn’t here but still, you feel an odd sense of something.

You turn back to Asher just as he’s trying to calculate what you just said. “Tell me, Asher, are you someone your grandfather favors?”

“My grandfather doesn’t have favorites.”

“But you are intelligent and a great asset to the Kingsmen.” Just as you said that, you catch sight of a man who had been pretending to help an injured man point a gun towards Asher, who has his back turned to him, and in seconds, you’re rushing to Asher, take hold of the gun he held on the back of his belt, and pierce a bullet straight into the man’s forehead.

Asher turns around, stunned, and you take another man out on the second story of this room.

“You don’t have an extra gun or something, do you? Because we were told not to bring guns to this party.” You flash him an awkward grin but the man only shakes his head.

Well. At least you’re prepared.

Throwing him back his gun, to which he easily catches to eliminate more men, you take your two hairpins that had been holding your hair up this whole time, and use it as your weapon, stabbing along the masked men who have been bold enough to operate on this mission tonight.

Asher and you are an unstoppable force, it’s almost a bit thrilling having the chance to get back into action and overpowering the enemies as if they were simple ants pestering and getting in your way. You forgot how fun this can be after being held up in bed for almost two months, unable to move properly.

Something catches your attention when a lady dressed in a black and white suit stumbles onto her feet with something in her hand, a puppy, and just behind her a long pillar lies, on the verge of tipping over.

No longer watching Asher’s back, you rush over to the scene to pick the running puppy into your arm and grab the woman with your other hand, successfully rescuing them just as the huge cement falls and crashes onto the floor, alerting everyone’s attention.

You simply stare at the dog in your arm. “Behave, will you? Don’t run into danger, that pretty lady was only trying to help.”

It barks and you feel guns pointed straight at you. 

The room falls silent, nothing is heard, and you can’t put a finger on why it is that you’re now the target and they’re ignoring Asher.

Is it the puppy? Is the puppy’s life far more valuable than Asher’s?

“Y/N!” You hear Asher’s call and keeping a firm grip on the puppy, rush to dodge the bullets that fly your way with Asher’s help in shooting down a few of them.

Your body twists and turns, flipping and jumping, doing all it can so that the bullets can only breeze past your skin and not pierce through it, all the while you use your hairpin to stab nearby opponents down with a dog in your hand.

The last of them die against the piercing of your hairpin against their neck, and while you feel eyes on you from the people who were hidden away to hide from the fight, you retrieve the two silver accessories from the enemy’s bodies, wiping their blood on the cloth of your dress, before fixing them back easily into your hair.

The dog licks your face unexpectedly, jerking you from it, and you fall completely silent and stunned at what it had just done.

“Boy, what are you doing to me? You can’t just lick someone like that, even if that is in your nature,” you say, face contoured with disgust as you bring him into your hands and extend your arms out so that he’s unable to continue licking you.

He barks with complaint, and there’s a small snicker that you hear from across the room.

When you turn to look, you’re greeted unexpectedly by the very man you came to meet tonight, standing beside Asher with a few guards next to him.

The little dog twists out of your hand and jumps back onto the floor, rushing over to Alexander who easily picks him up.

Ah. So it was his dog. Now it makes sense why the enemies were after me. The dog’s special to him.

“Are you not used to that?” The old man asks when you pat your hand down onto your dress. His English has a bit of an accent, not too distinct, but he’s not as fluent as Asher is.

“Suddenly getting licked in the face? No sir, I have not.”

“He likes you.” The men beside him move to take the enemies away at Alexander’s head signal, and you watch the way the old man pets the little puppy on the head. “Kiwi doesn’t like just anyone.” Kiwi. “They say dogs are better at judging people than humans.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “...Do they now?”

“Come.”

He turns, with the dog in hand, and you blink.

“Huh?”

But he ignores you to give an order to the lady you reduced under the pillar. “Have a room ready for the lady and send people to tend to her.”

“Pardon me sir, but I can take care of myself. I have a place nearby—”

“My place is closer,” he says, and with that, he’s walking off without letting you have another word in, leaving you to simply stand there with a dumbfounded expression.

When you look at Asher who’s still here, he sends you a shrug, along with a small, amused smile curling along his lips. He looks impressed and he probably is, because you’ve just gotten your chance at speaking to Alexander Larsen without approaching him first.