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Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 5

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Falling down the rabbit hole has its perks and consequences.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, scars and mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, handcuffs, blood, implied violence, arguing and misunderstandings

A.N. I can't have a fic without Yoongi suffering with my OCs... Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Enjoy 🔥🔥

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You woke up feeling particularly snuggly, tucked with heavy blankets around you. Normally, that would have made you shake your arms and legs to get free, but this time you didn’t feel compelled to. In your daze, you realized it smelled good, and you didn’t want to leave that cozy cocoon. But then you figured out that your pillow was an arm, and your hand darted under your dress to your knife.

The blade was to his throat before you could even make out who he was. Then, your gears slowly turned as a few strands of his hair shifted across his forehead to his eyes as he languidly woke up.

Yoongi was naked behind you, with one arm under your head and the pillow, and the other wrapped around your middle. You doubted he felt your blade to his windpipe because his perfect skin didn’t have one single wrinkle of worry, not even when he opened his eyes a bit and saw you. Quite the opposite; he stretched without letting go of you as if waking up like that was just another Saturday, and you chuckled.

“I fell asleep,” you admitted, more to yourself than him, as you put the knife away. You didn’t do that; that was not your thing.

“Good. How do you feel?”

His raspy voice gave you goosebumps, and you turned your face the other way, giving him your back again. You shouldn’t feel this safe and relaxed, there was no such thing. But he was a cop, so if not with him, then with who?

You sighed. He was a goody two shoes; of course, he’d ask you about your well-being.

“Better than ever, ready for another one.”

He hummed and adjusted his head on his pillow, not coming closer, and you pouted and pretended to stretch so you could fall back into him.

You grinned, “And so are you, it seems.”

You rubbed your ass against his crotch shamelessly, smiling as you expected him to push you off and tell you to leave. 

But he sighed, “It’s okay, it will go away.”

Your lips pursed instantly. You didn’t want his hard-on to fizzle out, you wanted him hard and crazy to have you. You wanted him to fight the urge to have you and pretend to be all lawful when in reality, he was dying to stick it in a mob boss like you.

You spoke quietly, “I don’t want it to.”

He didn’t move behind you, and you wondered if he had heard you as you hadn’t admitted it too loud. When you thought to turn your head to check and show your pout, his arm around you moved. Your protest was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it back because he didn’t move away. Instead, his hand landed on your hip softly, resting between the cover and your dress for a moment as if to allow you to slap it away.

You didn’t, and he continued slowly. He palmed down your leg where he could reach before returning, feeling your stomach and side almost respectfully. It made you wiggle in his arms, a little restless, but as your head fell back, you felt him. He was right behind you, instantly nuzzling you through your hair, taking you in. It was the most intimate moment you had ever lived — a singular palm on your lower stomach keeping you close, while he breathed in the sweet scent of your hair. You probably still had some concussion-related dizziness, but you doubted it was just that. Your body was melting, captivated by his gentle nature in a way you didn’t know could entice you.

But it did because the moment he moved to touch the skin of your neck, you let him. You sighed with the flutters his fingertips left behind and pressed yourself more to him when he reached your collarbones. At that moment, you completely surrendered to his touch, hoping he wouldn’t stop. Hoping he would see the barriers you always held up and ignore them, finally reaching you. 

His fingers were gentle, almost shy when tracing the sleeve of your dress, but a longing sigh of yours was enough. His pointer pulled it the slightest, letting it loose over your shoulder, and you pulled the same shoulder back into him, telling him to go on. 

You didn’t hide how eager you were for his touch; when the sleeve got stuck on your arm, you bent forward so he could access the dress zipper, and helped him get both sleeves off.

Only then did your breath get caught as he traced the marks down your arms. Usually, you covered them with make-up or clothes, and otherwise, you didn’t let anyone see them. The slightest discomfort prickled you, confronted with the scars and memories of things you didn’t want to relive, but then Yoongi moved on. He moved over the cigarette burn scars your father gave you as if they weren’t worth his time, and it brought tears to your eyes.

Instead, he traced every inch of your skin down your sides and to your front, touching your chest when you eagerly got rid of your bra too. His lips met your shoulder, and you knew he could see your naked body as you trembled under his touch, but it didn’t bother you. He was gentle, admiring you, but grazing his nails and pinching your hard nipples too.

You jolted into him, arching your back, and it felt like the dress was smothering, preventing you from chasing everything fully. So you pulled it down your legs and sighed when his heated skin glued to your back and ass, spooning you in his embrace.

His lips brushed the skin under your ear, then nibbled and licked your ear, and you squirmed into him. He wasn’t in a hurry, as if taking his sweet time was the full experience, but you were impatient by nature. 

You called for him eagerly, “Yoongi…”

And in arching your back to make yourself as accessible as possible, he got your message loud and clear. He grabbed the flesh of your outer thigh to lift it, then aligned himself with you and imposed a rhythm on your hips. You groaned, your head falling back as you let him completely maneuver you on his dick. It was even better than if it had been you, much slower, too. It was as if he wanted you to take every detail of him connecting with you, forcing your warm heat to take him while his other arm held you to his chest.

It felt like nothing ever had, and you couldn’t wrap your derailing train of thought around it. His embrace kept you tucked in, flush to his firm chest, while his hand made you wail with every slap of his hips to your ass by supporting your hip. You didn’t know you liked it up close and personal like this; hell, you didn’t even think you’d like to relent control over yourself like this. But the more he made your hips sway so you’d fall perfectly against him, the more you conceded that you liked it—a lot.

Every time his big hand pulled you back, you anticipated the feeling of his thick cock pushing through your walls, and even more when he reached deep. Surely, he did it on purpose because suddenly, every time he filled you, you could feel the kiss of his tip to your cervix, making you keen. Yet even if you writhed, he didn’t let you get away, making you fall into him even harder, and nibbling on your neck for good measure.

You were so hot, your brain was overheating. Strands of your hair glued to your forehead while your hands tried to hold on to anything between the sheets, pillows, and his arms, both wanting him to fuck you so much harder and so much slower before the fire starting in your core had time to catch up with you.

He must have realized your desperation, because he groaned and suckled the skin behind your ear, between sticky strands of hair, right before his hand abandoned your hip to disappear between your legs.

You jolted when his fingers began tracing circles on your eager clit, and for a moment, you lost track of reality. You squirmed in his arms, waves of hot pleasure making it hard to breathe and comprehend what was happening. The pressure on your clit made you throb around him, but it wasn’t enough. His hips had slowed, not reaching as deep without his guiding hand, and you were left in limbo.

“Come on,” he whispered into your ear, and you couldn’t decide if it was sweet or a taunt.

Regardless, you started fucking yourself on his cock, whimpering with how his fingers complemented your feverish movements. You couldn’t see how hungrily he was looking at your whole body trembling, searching for pleasure in his arms, but you could feel the way you were melting down his dick, making his fingers slide easily while he breathed heavily near your ear.  You couldn’t breathe, afraid that something as simple could stop your looming climax. Still, passionate whimpers left your lips every time you sank down, desperately needing his cock so deep inside you.

Yoongi was normally quiet, so feeling his heavy breathing on your neck was enough for you. Still, when he spoke, it electrified you, “Squeeze them— Let me see—”

His raspy voice made you clench hard, the thought of playing with your tits for him to see pushing you the extra mile. You didn’t let go of that new current and instantly let go of the sheets to grab your tits and squeeze them.

Your moan pitched to a wail and he pushed himself deeper inside you, “Fuck—”

His low voice made you shiver from head to toe and you came with a strangled moan, arching your back when he restarted fucking into you harder, even as he rubbed your clit to make your orgasm last.

He probably loved the way you were throbbing and crying, and you adored the desperate way he was sheathing himself into you until he popped, twitching in a perfect kiss to your cervix that made you scream.

Yoongi drove the late streets of Seoul with a sense of ease. He wasn’t much for sentimentalities, but he did think that was an easy road to remember if it ever came to that.

He supported his head on his hand while he waited for the light to turn. He wasn’t upset with you, just worried. Waking up next to you the day before was a pleasant surprise in many ways; maybe it was the same for you. You had been clearly startled, but the way you let go and let him touch and see you for the first time was incredible.

In the afterglow of your bodies trembling together, you let him hug you and touch you to his heart’s content, and as it turned out, it wasn’t easily content. He traced your sweaty body from head to toe, starting with his nose buried in your hair and ending up massaging your toes sometime later. He especially saw the scars on your arms but didn’t mention them. As a cop, he had seen marks of violence often, and those in particular evoked parental abuse. He didn’t know much about you, but he could guess your childhood hadn’t been easy.

You asked him about showering and he pointed to the ensuite bathroom, but then you raised your arms, waiting to be carried. He had heaved a deep breath but he wasn’t as annoyed as he thought he’d be. Instead, he picked you up and carried you into the walk-in shower, staying with you in a wordless embrace while the water poured down on you both.

He could admit he got carried away, too relaxed in your presence to think about what you two were doing. Even when you kissed slowly with the splash of water falling over your shoulders, when he pushed you gently to the wall, or when he grabbed your hair to keep you close, you didn’t protest for a second. You grabbed his waist, kissed him back, and accompanied him through every sensation.

Then, you smiled and said you were thirsty, and when he suggested getting you something, you said you’d do it yourself. He knew then you’d be gone once he got out of the shower, but he stayed quiet. He’d never insist that you stay; you didn’t know each other, and it didn’t make sense.

But he couldn’t help his worry, his vagrant thoughts, and a deep, hidden urge to check if you were alright. So there he was, stopped in front of the gate of your house, facing the camera while he waited for whoever worked for you to decide if he could get in. Even though he had your number and knew you were looked after by attentive staff. Even if it was none of his business.

“I’m opening it,” said a dry male voice through the speaker, and Yoongi only held onto the steering wheel, looking ahead.

He didn’t know what to tell you. He stopped the car in front of your garage, got out, and mindlessly walked to the open front door. In the back of his mind, he was getting worked up. What would he tell you? You’d ask what he wanted, but he had nothing to ask. You’d tease him for looking for you, for not getting enough, and he couldn’t deny it without lying to your face, so what the hell could he say?

Your butler guided him upstairs, someplace he had never been but couldn’t really pay any mind to. Not until a big mahogany door opened suddenly and all he saw was a large king-size bed in the back before being grabbed by your hand and pulled in.

You didn’t speak; just kissed him and touched him like you were starving, and fucked him like it too. He felt the sting from scratches you left on his shoulders the whole day, shuddering at the memories of the moans they came with.

He thought that was a one-time thing; you had casually told him you were fine and had work to do, and he didn’t raise objections. He got dressed, left, and kept his thoughts to himself, glad you were feeling better and didn’t ask anything more.

But the next day, you showed up at his place sometime before midnight. He was startled, seeing you on his couch when just minutes before it was empty. He was about to ask you how it was that you got inside his house so easily in the few minutes it took him to take a leak, but you were not in a sharing mood. You reached to unbutton his pants and not a lot of talking was involved in what followed.

It never was; you two didn’t really talk, but you did other things. You saw each other every day, taking turns going to the other’s house, and there was a lot of moaning and sweating, but not a lot of words exchanged 

Every day, he wondered if that would be the day you wouldn’t be home, or if you wouldn’t visit. But as the days became weeks, it became a routine he got used to way too easily. He gave you the benefit of being consistent, always showing up at 10 PM so you had the rest of the night to work on your endeavors. Unfortunately, you didn’t give him the same grace, but you had other perks — like always having a drink with him, a tease, or simply a goodnight kiss that always left him bittersweet about parting ways.

He refused to think about any of it too deeply. Who you were, what you did; how whatever you two were doing would be perceived. How a few enemies would love to learn about you, and vice versa. Not to mention he wanted your moments together to last, not to just turn his back and walk away. 

But as time went on, all those thoughts became sidenotes. There had been no rumors or talk about a possible affiliation between the two of you, your work hadn’t intersected, and he now had good whiskey and gin at his place so he could offer you a drink whenever you visited him, too.

It all turned on its head when you didn’t show up one night. Of course, you were never consistent — sometimes you showed up right after dinner, sometimes in the early hours of the morning. Still, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t ask about you directly, so he activated his radio and kept an ear on the police transmissions while drinking one glass after another in his office, just waiting.

The first rays of dawn were kissing the sky when you opened the door to his office. You found him on his chair, staring at the ceiling with the broadcast still on, wearing his coat as if he was ready to storm out. The dark circles under his eyes and a half-drunk bottle of liquor on the desk made you smile and lean on the door frame.

“I chose the right night to be late. You’re still working?”

Yoongi didn’t answer you; he didn’t even comment on your long, red dress. The cocktail party you attended had lasted beyond your wishes, making it hard to call it a night. You thought it would be worth it in the end because at least Yoongi would see you in that dress and tell you how beautiful you looked, as usual. But he was quiet, and you pouted.

He took the glass in his hand to his lips to finish the last traces of liquor before brushing his lips absentmindedly, and you stepped toward him without hiding your pout.

“Am I interrupting?” You perched yourself on the desk in front of him so he’d give you all his attention instead. “You knew I—”

He got up suddenly, slamming the glass on the desktop next to you before pulling your legs around him in a smooth motion, “You’re late.”

You opened your mouth, confused by his annoyance when you were the one entitled to being annoyed, but his mouth on yours shut you up. The way he kissed you was hungry, eager, not letting you settle for one second, not even to breathe. You moaned into his mouth, loving those deep, tongue-tied battles you always had, especially with the smoky whiskey taste coming from him.

The more he pressed you to him and ravished your mouth, the more you wanted to laugh euphorically and tease him endlessly. You thought he’d be too busy to be with you, but he seemed just as eager as you to call it a night and forget about the world.

He moved to kiss your neck, and you managed to smirk, but your words died on your tongue. His fingers went under your dress, searching your core while he got himself free of his pants. You shuddered and kept him close, listening attentively to his groan when he found out you didn’t have panties on.

“Took them off in the car,” you whispered in his ear, nuzzling him. “Don’t need them here.”

You knew he agreed because in seconds he was pushing himself through your entrance, invading your warmth as he had done so many times. You whimpered and he held onto you more firmly, pulling you flush to him so his cock filled you to the brim.

Your chin dropped, as did your eyelids, the pleasure relaxing you instantly to build a familiar lull of pleasure. He moved between your legs, and you helped him, grabbing onto his shoulders, and piercing your nails through his coat when he started speeding up his thrusts.

“Is this what I get for being late?” You said, with the tension making your tone harsh. “Might just start doing it more often just to get you to fuck me like this.”

His hand on the back of your neck instantly shifted to grab your hair by the roots, making you look him dead in the eyes. His harsh gaze was enough for you to know he didn’t want that, and your lips twitched in a small smile before they had to contort to moan from the pleasure rippling through you. You also preferred to be on time, especially to be with him.

It was hard to rebut he had grown attached to you. He knew what it looked like but it wasn’t that; he was genuinely worried about you and at ease whenever he saw you.

Still, he wasn’t delusional — he didn’t expect anything from you and had to remind himself that you were a free woman. If the day came when you didn’t show up or kicked him out, he could do nothing but accept it.

However, he found himself deeper in your life with every passing day. He had fucked you all over your house; hell, even on the stairs, despite the people that could see you if they passed nearby. Your office was your favorite, so it wasn’t strange to find you there.

Still, your frown was, and also that you didn’t stop to welcome him with a sly smile. On the contrary, you gripped your hair after noticing him, then threw a look at the cabinet holding the liquor before turning back to your paperwork.

“You’re tense,” he commented as he poured you both drinks.

“No kidding,” you bit out, before sighing into your chair.

He neared you with the drinks and placed both down, deciding to massage your shoulders first.

You opened your mouth in surprise before a low groan escaped your lips. His slender fingers pushing at the flesh under your neck was fucking divine.

You kept sighing and occasionally whimpering under his ministrations and he never asked what was wrong. You liked that but thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring it up.

“One of my clients detected a gap in his numbers,” you started quietly. “He’s accusing me of fucking up, and I was ready to tell him to fuck off, but he’s right.” You sighed with pleasure tinged with anxiety. “Something is up between my numbers and his, and I’m stuck. I can’t risk getting on his bad side, not after… playing it risky a few months back.”

You didn’t face Yoongi as you spoke, but he could tell none of your uneasiness was from talking to him. Quite the contrary, you weren’t as agitated because it was him. Because he had his hands on you. He found it endearing, even if he knew what you were talking about surely involved the money laundering he secretly knew you had going on.

“If we’re talking numbers, then maybe it’s something you can get to the bottom of,” he started quietly, with a low, steady voice. “Those things leave paper or digital trails and you know who the intermediary is.”

You frowned slightly, “I trust them.”

“Then maybe your client is trying to fuck you over.”

You spun your chair to look at him as if you just had a thought, then you got up and grabbed your phone. “Sit.”

He knew that to question you was a waste of time, so he sat on the office chair and you sat on his lap. You proceeded to have an extensive conversation on the phone, the content of which was lost on him. If not because the details eluded him, then because you kept rubbing your ass on his crotch and it was distracting. 

He knew you felt his boner, but making him crazy was only an afterthought; a kick while you took care of things. The conversation must have been going well because you didn’t take long to slide your underwear down your legs, staying with your ass up over the desk, waiting for him to get his dick out.

As soon as you heard his zipper, you sat back, counting on him to aim his cock where it needed to go. You were so warm and tight, that he almost groaned, but it was your silence that got to him. He didn’t care if you were on the phone, you were never silent when you took his dick.

He brushed your long hair aside and bit the back of your neck in retaliation before letting it go. You slid up and down his shaft at your leisure, coating him handsomely, even if your voice was steady on the phone. At that point, he couldn’t care less; he had all the evidence he needed that you were feeling good, maybe even better than usual. Maybe you liked holding a conversation while pretending you weren’t riding his thick cock. He was tempted to challenge you, but you were stressed already; he’d rather give you a good time.

The moment you put the phone down, your motions changed, riding him fast, pressing yourself down his cock so hard he could feel his tip hitting your cervix the moment you came. You were breathless with tiny moans, the electrical discharge through your body making you tremble on his lap. He knew all the signs already, so he knew that orgasm was tainted by your stress and didn’t leave you fully satisfied.

He didn’t oppose you getting up and checking your phone. He stayed put, looking down at his creamed hard cock, stiff in the air, knowing he just had to be patient.

And indeed, a moment later you grinned and threw your phone on the desk like you were done. You grabbed the drink he had prepared earlier, handing him his own with a crooked smile, “Aren’t you the juiciest throne I’ve ever seen.”

He took the glass to his lips, unable to hide the twitch of his shaft at your comment. 

You chuckled, “Is that an invitation? Cause I’ll gladly take it.” He finished his glass, ready, and you smirked, “Come along, then. Because of your advice, I’m done with work for now, and I’m in the mood to keep riding you in my bed.”

He got up, fumbling with his clothes, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can have a smoke after, I don’t want to wait.”

He was trying to hide his dick, even if he knew it was fine, but now he was worried. He felt all his pockets, then groaned, “Fuck, I forgot them.”

You raised your eyebrows; that was a first. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask Sooyong to get some.”

You left the room and all he thought was that you were the perfect woman, right before shaking his head and chastising himself. One addiction was enabling the other, that was all.

It didn’t take long to find himself naked on your bed, loving every second of you edging him and enjoying yourself on his lap. He didn’t know if it was to celebrate you finding a way to deal with your problem, his help, or just a normal Tuesday night, but it mattered little when you were on top of him like that.

He realized later it did matter when you put your clothes back on, walked out, and came back in with your phone, a pack of his favorite cigarettes, and a huge smile when you threw yourself next to him.

“You were right. My client doesn’t know I have people on his team, and guess what? He asked someone to make it look like shit was missing,” you smirked, then threw your phone on the nightstand and opened the pack. “Now I have proof that he fucked it, so I can keep him in line.” You put a cigarette between his lips and lit it up yourself. “There you go…” Your voice was tender, but your smile was cunning. “Gotta keep you around for the next time I need advice.”

That was the start of the two of you talking. Yoongi didn’t think it would go anywhere — a criminal and a cop; what was there to talk about?

But as it turned out, there was a lot. Both were careful to keep sensitive information and names out of the equation, but it was surprisingly easy talking to each other about work. If Yoongi complained about a case, you were aware of it. If you were frustrated with some politician being stupid, he knew exactly what you meant. You stayed away from each other’s turfs, but you started talking more and more, to the point that a part of your rendezvous was dedicated to sharing the latest developments and venting frustrations.

Going to your place at 10 PM was the norm, and you not being there was not necessarily something to be worried about. Especially, because he could hear the shower going in your ensuite bathroom when he got to your room, so he got comfortable. 

He was getting rid of his tie and coat on a nearby sofa when he saw clothes fallen to the floor beside it and picked them up. Instantly, his fingers touched something wet but tacky, and the ferrous smell hit him before he saw the blood. He didn’t have to think twice; the clothes were yours and he had to make sure you were safe.

He dropped the clothes on the floor, pulled his pistol from the holster of his belt, and stepped silently to your bathroom, but you came out in time, wrapped in a towel and smiling widely when you saw him.

“Hi! I was just freshening up,” you got close and laced your arms around his neck, completely dismissing the gun in his hand. 

He eyed behind you quickly before cupping your cheek to make sure you were truly relaxed and safe. Then he put his pistol safely back in the holster and pulled you closer by the waist.

“What do you want to drink tonight?”

Yoongi hummed, but he couldn’t focus on your question. “Who was it?”

His voice was quiet as he motioned the clothes with his chin. Not because he couldn’t ask; after months of sharing your life, bed, and thoughts daily, he could. But because there were lines, and one of them was you being in danger.

“It’s not mine,” you smiled, but it fell when you realized that wouldn’t be enough for him to drop the issue. “Just…” You started and your split second of silence told him something was up. “Some guy causing a ruckus in the city… Saw it on TV and thought I should intervene. Law-abiding citizen and all,” you grinned mischievously before spreading your hands over his shoulders and chest in a familiar gesture.

He blinked; TV news channels had started reporting on a case of his department recently. Notably, of a politician dragging Yoongi’s work through the mud.

“You mean Myung Seojun?”

“Well,” you pursed your lips, tracing his collarbones attentively for a second. “He might have been involved,” you said, raising your eyes with a hint of uneasiness, but mostly with challenge. The latter won completely because you raised your hands to his neck, “Nobody messes with what is mine.”

He saw something in your eyes that only made him hold onto you harder. It was in moments like those, he trusted you infinitely more, not just to keep his secrets and have his back, but to feel for him something close to what he felt.

Not that you ever spoke about that. You could as easily fuck all night or day long, or talk about the problems rooted deeply in the governmental system, but what you two were effectively doing was never a topic of conversation.

Still, there was that one time you told him you had never been with anyone like this. “All my life… I’ve seen it as a transaction.”

Your voice was quiet as you rested on his chest, still hot and sweaty from the long hours you’d been together. He was smoking a cigarette from the pack you had in your room just for him, and you were in a contemplative mood.

“Intimacy was about power, worth, and gain, and I thought that was all there was to it, but… I don’t… feel that way with you.”

You said it quietly, almost shyly, nuzzling his chest, and he put his cigarette down on a tray by your bedside table, holding you closely while making sure you faced him.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. I don’t want that,” he rasped, brushing your cheek in a caress. He wasn’t even nervous, despite this moment being one of the most vulnerable you two had ever shared. Still, because you were giving him something from deep within, he thought he should do the same. “I never thought I’d be intimate with someone like this. Not after my ex,” he said dryly, and seeing the glint in your eyes, he added, “Not until I met you.” His finger brushed a few strands of hair out of your eyes looking up at him, “I thought I didn’t want it. Our marriage was a disaster, and it was true I didn’t get it up. I just… didn’t want to.” He heaved a sigh, “She couldn’t understand what I do, or what I worry about. The way the work consumes our lives.”

You hummed, “Or maybe she wasn’t dangerous enough.”

He chuckled, “Maybe. Maybe I got myself the perfect storm now: dangerous, beautiful, smart, and knowledgeable about what matters to me. About what I need.”

Your eyes stayed big and glistening on his, and he didn’t push for an answer. He kissed your nose and forehead and leaned back down, wondering quietly if you had understood what he was trying to say.

He thought you might have because things were different at his place the next night. You never let him forget he worked for the right side of the law, constantly teasing him about his handcuffs. He had let you use them on him before, so that night when you asked for the same, it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

But the way you asked him more questions as you had him cuffed to his bed was different, “Aren’t you scared of what I might do? I could do anything to you. Things you don’t like, ruin your life, fuck— take it, I could kill you.”

He nodded, “I trust you.”

Your eyes were glistening differently, but you started kissing him and didn’t stop until you were both exhausted, winded, and spent over his sheets. You released him and slept next to him, hiding in his embrace while he smoked, and wondered if there was more he could do to make you feel safe.

He didn’t expect to wake up the next morning to you asking him to put the handcuffs on you.

You looked scared, with wide eyes and trembling fingers, and he shook his head, “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“But I want to,” you insisted, grabbing his hands despite your nervousness. “Because I trust you too. I want to know what it feels like.”

He was hesitant, but at the same time felt responsible. He didn’t trust anyone else to be with you and respect and care for you like he did, so he agreed.

He asked questions, explained how you would do it safely, and tried to tell you his plan, but you stopped him, “I don’t want to know. I trust you to do this.”

Despite your watery eyes, your smile moved the foundations of his heart in unspeakable ways. You presented your wrists so that he’d cuff them, and he did. Then, he took you in his arms and kissed you with all the passion lodged inside his heart.

He, too, could do anything to you, but there was only the desire to do good. To treat you with tenderness and show you how deeply he felt for you.

The possibility of it being a mistake never crossed his mind. He couldn’t stop kissing you, adoring you with every touch, immediately immersed in his need to show you something he couldn’t normally do. Something he couldn’t explain in words or ask you about. He could show you, though. Show you what happened when someone’s heart was in it like his was.

He laid you down, glued to every inch of you, between your legs, then slipped your cuffed hands over his head to rest on his neck so you’d have support. Then, he entered you and, staying close like that the whole time, made love to you while you breathed in each other’s grunts and moans.

“I’m here,” he rasped, so close to your skin, it was muffled. He couldn’t stop showing you his heart, whether with his hips or words, “You have me. You’re mine.”

He could see in the way you were keening, face scrunched with everything happening, that you were as deep in it as he was. You kissed him back, moved with him, sighed with every reassurance, gripped his hair, and came with him so intensely that he thought you would pass out. But then you kissed him deeply, and his heart settled right there with you.

You two never spoke about it, but you didn’t need to. As long as everything stayed perfect like that, Yoongi would never be the one to push you. Just like it had happened so far, you’d come to him when you were ready.

He had completely forgotten about the case he was building on you until you said something that reminded him.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You were having snacks on his bed since you were feeling particularly hungry tonight, while he sat on an armchair just resting after a hard day.

He nodded, “I do, but I bet you don’t.”

You grinned, “Wasn’t it when your boss was trying to get a warrant to search the Aether? Only to come in person to tell me my name had been forged into some incriminating documents, so he apologized for chasing me?”

He blinked, “I’m surprised you remember me. I was just an officer then.”

You nodded and hummed with sour candy stuffing your mouth. “You were quiet but had this look. Like you could see right through me.” 

You mused, reminiscing, and he kept observing you. He was young and naive, but there was something about you that put everything into perspective. Beautiful women really could be dangerous. 

“And then you went on to build a case on me of your own,” you laughed unabashedly. “I’m flattered.”

His stomach fell at that moment, barely hearing you when you went on to say you were happy he didn’t pursue you too hard. It allowed you to grow this big, and you much preferred him now, a seasoned chief.

“It’s just funny to think our paths intertwined so long ago… I never thought we’d end up here.”

Your tone had a hint of tension, but he was inside his head, so he just nodded. This wasn’t right. He had long since come to terms with who you were and what you did. What he had on you… he had to get rid of it before someone got wind of it.

Suddenly, you scrunched your nose and got up, “I need to use the bathroom.”

He nodded again absentmindedly but didn’t waste any time. He went straight to his office and searched all the drawers and files until he found the one with your name. Then, he emptied a metal trash can on the floor and set your file on fire with a lighter, dropping it in to be safe.

The door creaked, and his eyes snapped up. You looked a bit pale but otherwise carefree with a long white shirt of his covering your naked body. You did it frequently when you wanted to be comfy, even if sex wasn’t involved.

“What is it?”

You neared him, eying the fire curiously, and he wrapped an arm around you, “Nothing, just getting rid of something.”

He pressed his lips to your head while you both watched it burn quietly, and you held onto him. It was better this way.

“Want something to drink?” You smiled, knowing your way around his cabinet like it was yours.

He nodded, then noticed you only poured one glass, “And you?”

You grimaced a little before passing him the drink, “My stomach is a bit upset.” He took the drink with a hum, and you sat down on his chair. “The commissioner general is retiring.”

Yoongi nodded, then leaned on the desk behind him. The faint burning scent matched the whiskey he was drinking. “Yeah, people are moving. I think I’ll stay in the same position.”

You nodded, “And the new commissioner?”

“Nothing official yet.”

You pursed your lips, annoyed that he wasn’t taking the bait to talk about it, but his mind was elsewhere, figuring if there was a digital trail he needed to get rid of quickly to keep you safe.

He visited you the next day and went straight to your office, as told by your butler, only to find documents on your desk about Jimin.

He was instantly reeling, puzzling it all together and getting infuriated as a result. You must have been the one to frame him; the dates on the files were from back at the start. Why else would you have a file on him? What the hell were you planning? He could forgive many selfish things you had done, but if you touched any of his officers, that would be too far.

You showed up at your door wiping your mouth with a faint smile, “Sorry, I had to rush—”

“What is this?” 

He didn’t let you finish and pointed at your desk, and your features tensed. He couldn’t even notice you were the color of your white shirt; he was getting rattled by the silence.

“It’s a file.”

“On Officer Jimin,” he pointed out.

“On many different people.”

“Why would you have this?”

“Because he’s a part of it.”

“Yeah, we both know what he was a part of!” He almost stepped toward you but refrained, closing his fists. “Did you do it?”

You frowned, “Do what?”

“Frame him? Was it you all along?”

“No,” your features were neutral as you stepped closer to him to reach the files.

But he grabbed your wrist, “Tell me the truth.”

“I am,” you faced him, emotionless, while he attempted not to erupt like a volcano. “He was a byproduct of something bigger. He’s a small file amongst everything else.”

You spread the files on your desk to prove your point, and he let go of your wrist. There were codes and names, but a few photos stood out: Jimin, Junghee, and someone he never thought would be mixed up in there.

He pulled that photo out, “What the hell?”

You grinned bitterly, “Jae Seong Seok.” Your voice had no amusement, “Our up-and-coming commissioner.”

Yoongi gritted his teeth, quickly backtracking. He couldn’t confirm because he had burned his file on you the day before, but he remembered that one name from your log.

“What the hell is going on?”

Your expression retained a sourness, “He’s a tricky client, so I keep a record of everything he does. He wasn’t happy when he found out I had a hand in exonerating Officer Park, and now that he’s becoming the new commissioner, I kind of need to cover my ass.”

You sat on your chair with an unfriendly expression, massaging your stomach while he connected the dots. “Why do you need to? If he’s your client, you have things on him too. And what the hell did he do that involved Jimin? And Junghee?”

He was confused and you sighed, “People like him can get to anyone, even me. Even if he had to resign due to a scandal, he wouldn’t spend his life in jail, trust me. Between the national embarrassment of him going to jail or just me taking the brunt of it, trust me, your beloved system would bend backward to keep him clean.”

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he eyed your hardened features. You were right about that much at least, but he needed to understand. “Just tell me what this has to do with Jimin and Junghee.”

You heaved a deep breath and hesitated to tell him. There was a reason you never did, it would only complicate things. But you could see in his face that he was suspecting you instead, and it pissed you off.

“There’s a reason I didn’t tell you, and it’s not because I’m the one who did it.” 

Your gaze was ice-cold from the need to protect yourself from the impending hurt while your stomach was twisting inside you, leaving you exhausted. You’d been sick for a while, and now was the worst time to do this. 

“So just tell me now,” he asked, and you noticed at least his fists were gone.

You took a deep breath, “Officer Junghee was a dirty cop. Not by working with people like me, mind you, but with Jae Seong Seok. Whatever he needed to be done, Junghee would make it happen, as far as I understood.”

“That’s a lie.”

Yoongi’s instinct to protect his officers didn’t surprise you, “Funny how after almost two decades of service, he never moved up the ranks? Even funnier how he bought an apartment in Yeouido. Did you know? Left his widow and children very well set for a lowly cop with a shitty wage.”

Yoongi frowned, “He must have… You don’t know what other ways he—”

“Ah, that’s the thing about my line of work,” you interrupted blatantly, leaning in to speak almost venomously. “It’s my fucking job to know.” The bitterness of your stomach reached your mouth, but you continued, “The fucker went on expensive vacations yearly, you’d think he’d at least not parade his wealth, but that’s the thing about people that gain wealth and don’t know how to handle it — they get used to a certain lifestyle that’s hard to accommodate.”

This time, he stayed quiet. He could remember Junghee going on vacations, smiling at how his kids were entering good universities. Heck, the whole department celebrated when he bought a house, though he never said it was in Yeouido.

“Enter our beloved Jae Seong Seok, who wanted to get rid of him. My guess is that Junghee was demanding payment to keep his mouth shut, and that won’t do. Upcoming election and all.”

Your tone was so cynical, he could taste your bitterness in his mouth.

“I heard about the word to eliminate Office Junghee. Jimin was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Yoongi swallowed, then gripped his hair for a moment before facing you again, “They were chasing a car. That night, the two of them. One of your cars.”

You rolled your eyes, “My cars aren’t always mine. Did I know Ray? Sure, the fucker is a weasel. But he wasn’t working for me when he did that.”

“Ray? You knew who did this?!”

He raised his voice again, and you sighed, “What does it matter? Your boy was exonerated.”

“But the real culprit is on the loose! I don’t care if Junghee was dirty, his killer can’t be allowed to roam free!”

You leaned forward to pull a file from the messy pile to the top, “Read it.”

He leaned in and skimmed over the content, noticing quickly he was deceased, dating not long after Junghee died. The cause of death was drowning, but there was no more information than that. It was likely you knew by word of mouth otherwise there would be more. The photo matched the figure seen in the video that helped Jimin, so he didn’t have questions.

He heaved a deep breath, “Okay, but how can you be sure of the connection between Junghee and Jae Seong Seok?”

You dragged your chair forward, typed a password, and then an encrypted code on your search bar. It opened footage of a parking lot surveillance camera, and Yoongi almost choked. Junghee was in uniform escorting Jae Seong Seok to his car. The two spoke closely before an envelope passed hands. Yoongi kept his eyes on the screen until the Chief Superintendent General got inside the car and left, and Junghee counted the money in plain sight before leaving as well.

Then Yoongi groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Again, your Officer was just collateral damage. Jae Seong Seok would have let him rot in jail as long as no more questions were raised, but you and I didn’t let that happen. The case is still open since Ray's body was never found, though we know it’s over. To Jae Seong Seok, you and I are the only loose ends. But we're a necessary evil. For now.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me about this?”

You huffed and looked away, “I knew you’d react this way. You think everyone is bad except your precious officers, but everyone can be corrupted. No one’s hands are clean. Heck, not even yours.” 

You glanced at his hands, then raked your hair back. It was true, but maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that.

He kneeled in front of you so you’d be forced to meet his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. If you and I are at risk, I should know about it.”

You looked away, but he grabbed your hands to keep you with him. You shrugged, “I have it under control.”

He observed you for a moment, but there was nothing in his expression telling you he didn’t believe you. At least he wasn’t angry anymore. It brought tears to your eyes that you disgruntledly wiped away.

“This is the price for helping me… Why did you?”

Your lips trembled, and you pressed them before admitting, “You moved me… You knew it wasn’t true, and you were willing to go to hell to prove it. Even if you didn’t actually know,” you scoffed, then smiled, observing his dark glistening eyes. “I… also couldn’t resist seeing how far you’d go. With the chance to get inside your pants, landing on my lap like that? I can’t be blamed for succumbing to your charms.”

He scoffed, and his lips curved, “What charms?”

You smirked and shook your head, “You’re right. Best if you keep ignoring them. That way, I’m the only one who has the pleasure of—”

His lips were on yours before he could stop himself, gently kissing you while his fingers brushed and held your cheeks. He wasn’t one for confrontations but was happy he had asked immediately and clarified everything. He’d do some internal investigation for himself, but he believed you. If your safety was in jeopardy, he had to set up a safety net for you both.

He liked your soft expression when he pulled away, enjoying his thumbs brushing your cheeks. You felt hot to the touch and looked tired, with dark circles under your eyes. Yet before he addressed that, he said, “You can tell me things like this. You know that.”

You sighed and tried to look away, “Maybe.”

He pressed his lips but didn’t insist. He wished there were no secrets between you, but he’d wait for you to make that decision. Giving you the time and space to come to him was still the best he could do.

“Do you want to drink something?” He asked, letting go of you gently. “Maybe a gin and tonic will put color back in your cheeks.”

You looked down and shook your head, “I don’t feel like it.”

He thought everything was well after that, but one week later, he knew it wasn’t. Something had changed, and it was like being forced to watch a chain-reaction car accident happen — there was nothing he could do to stop it, and the damage just kept piling up.

He had noticed you weren’t drinking for a few weeks, but it was starting to irk him now. Sometimes, you were nauseated, and at other times, you were starving. Sometimes, you just wanted to cuddle and sleep, but at other times, you wanted him to stay away because it was too hot and overwhelming if he touched you. You always had a strong personality, which he loved, but now you were unrestrained. Irritable didn’t begin to cover it; something was always wrong. You had fought every day for the past week and always over trivial things that he never even thought of before. 

Since when did you care that he still used the same shampoo his ex-wife used to buy? It was out of habit, absolutely meaningless, but you had taken it so personally that you had squeezed all bottles empty and thrown them at him when he tried to stop you. You never cared that he smoked; on the contrary, you had his favorites at your place just for him. Now? You had almost gagged from him smoking after you two were together, even though he did it for months without an issue. And intimately? He didn’t know what was happening, but you were acting differently. You wouldn’t let him see you fully naked, and the few times you let him touch you, you almost started crying.

He must have been doing something very wrong, but mentioning it only resulted in you fighting or running away. Your routine was kept the next day, but every time, it chipped away at his patience, and surely, it tired you, too.

He blamed his ill temper for the way he ended up snapping at you.

“I don’t feel like it,” you voiced after he offered you a drink. “Maybe I should keep this one short. I need to go back to the Aether.”

He put down the glass inside his office liquor cabinet, not bothering to fill it, and huffed the growing annoyance. You had smiled and kissed him when you arrived, kindling his hope, only to snuff it so easily.

“Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

He turned to you, “Why are you here if you’re just going to leave?”

You scoffed, “You mean I shouldn’t have come?”

You looked instantly bitter, and he shook his head, “You should have, and you should stay. Have a drink with me, rest, and fucking talk to me.”

You laughed humorlessly, “You have to be kidding. Again with the drink bullshit?”

“It’s not bullshit.”

“It’s just a drink,” you underlined dryly.

“It’s what it means!”

You rolled your eyes, “And what does it mean?”

“That something changed!”

He slammed the liquor cabinet door closed, and you crossed your arms over your chest, “Just because I don’t want your stupid whiskey?”

The way you withdrew from him made him feel like a pet about to be abandoned. He shook his head, pale, “It’s not the whiskey. You don’t want anything! You’re always annoyed, irritated, and in a rush to leave. You don’t let me touch you or—”

“Stop, just—” You were blushing furiously, with closed fists now trembling at your sides. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“I’m calling it as I see it!”

He regretted raising his voice at you, especially when he noticed the way you were trembling. He wasn’t shouting, but still, it only made things worse. He could see it in your glistening eyes, though your whole body posture told him he fucked up.

But he didn’t understand what he did that led to this, and he wouldn’t just watch it fall apart. He did with his ex-wife. He couldn’t bring himself to care enough to do something about it. But fuck— with you, he cared. He cared more than he had ever been able to tell you or show you, and he couldn’t just watch it happen without doing something.

“I’m leaving.”

You reached to grab your purse over the couch, and it all happened so fast. His heart convulsed, his eyes watered, but most of all, his desperation pushed him to grab your arm to stop you.

You spun around, and your instinct was to pull your trusty knife on him. You were angry, hurt, and shaking, but saw the tears reflecting in his eyes. Your blade was poking his stomach, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You just couldn’t think clearly; you needed to get away.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fucking stab me if you want,” his voice wavered as his hold tightened but your eyes hardened.

“I don’t need to.”

You pulled your arm loose, and he let you go. How could he not? Even though he wanted to beg you to stay and was desperate to fix things and get everything back to what it was. But he couldn’t go against your will. This was what he had always feared finally coming to fruition, and it hurt.

He stood still while he heard you tapping your heels away, praying you would turn around and give him a chance. But then the front door slammed, and he roared and saw red. He kicked and punched everything in the vicinity, ignoring the glass shards and the wood splinters flying around. 

Not much survived in his office by the time he was done, and not even the pain in his knuckles and arms phased him. He fell to his knees with a plea masked as a grunt, but even then it didn’t hurt. Only his heart, beating in agony, did.

All he wanted was you, and he lost you.

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 6

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi is so lost, but then the truth lands right on his lap.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, invasion of privacy, abuse of power, unprotected semi-public sex, emotional talk (in this fic, this is a warning 🤣)

A.N. I always put Yoongi through a lot of shit, but he's always such a perfect guy fml 🫠 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Enjoy 🔥🔥

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Twenty-four hours had never been such a torture to Yoongi before.

Between spending the rest of the night chastising himself, alternating between rage furies and desperate lethargies, and spending his day at work on edge, willing the day to just be fucking done already, it was absolute hell regardless. He tried to convince himself it was not over, that you meant leaving for that night only. Because you had to be at the Aether, that was all. You could both still talk about it, more calmly this time. He’d let go of the stupid drink and talk to you frankly. If you needed time or help with anything, whatever you needed, he could make it happen. 

Somehow, he survived the day without derailing everything he was working on. He had to keep a relatively level-headed attitude whenever the job required it, and now that he was in the car on his way to you, he was calm. He’d see you and apologize, and everything would be okay.

As usual, he stopped in front of your gate, but the gate didn’t instantly open this time. Instead, the familiar voice of your butler sounded robotically through the speaker, “Miss isn’t home. She left word that you were not expected.”

Yoongi’s heart had never shattered in that way before. He couldn’t remember driving the way back home or how he ended up on his bed with a whiskey bottle, drinking in a vain attempt to drown the sting piercing his heart.

Morning greeted him with a colossal headache and a dreadful feeling of emptiness that left him helpless. He moved throughout the day like a ghost, barely opening his mouth or raising his head during meetings or briefs, but then he returned home.

He prepared your latest favorite snacks, did his best to clean the whole house so that you wouldn’t smell the smoke, and committed to only smoking outside from now on. It could be foolish of him, but he had hoped you would show up. Maybe you needed time to calm down and handle other things, and now you would come to him like you had in the past.

He stayed awake the whole night in front of his TV, watching the time bleed by in technicolor. Until his phone alarm rang to alert him that it was time to go to work, he shut it off with the biggest feeling of defeat he had ever felt in his life.

Now, he didn’t know what to do. He had your number; he knew the places you frequented, but he couldn’t just barge into your life like that. You’d hate him for it; he knew it wasn’t the solution. The more he’d chase you, the more he’d be like the people you never wanted to be with in the first place. That patience and respect from his side kept you by his side for six months. He trusted he needed to give you that now, too.

And if you never came back? He couldn’t think about it; it didn’t help. He decided to wait and let you decide.

But as the days went by, doubts crept up on him. Why did you start withdrawing from him? Why did you start fighting so much? How could you not care about something and suddenly go berserk at it? Why did you still come to him if you planned to leave instantly? His heart wanted to believe it was because you wanted to see him, even if for a few minutes, but his head was starting to doubt this. Maybe you were using him, and he had outrun his usefulness. Maybe there was something in his office that you were after, and now that you had it, you were tired of him. Maybe you were just tired of him. You had clung to him and cried your pleasure in his arms the last time you were together, but maybe that was a goodbye. He was so into you he could have overlooked any obvious signs that you were planning this. Or that you met someone else.

He wasn’t proud of it, but given his limited options, he didn’t feel guilty asking a few of his officers to keep an eye on you. One had already before, and the others could believe he was chasing leads on you again; he didn’t really care. He wouldn’t let anyone touch you. He just needed to know what was going on. Was it someone else? Was it too much work? Were you really so sick you preferred to stay away? Were you doing something he would disapprove of?

You should have known he didn’t give a crap about that. Not only because he had gotten to know you over time and realized you weren’t as heartless as you seemed but because he didn’t care. His moral compass was useless in what concerned you. Your mischievous smile and crinkled eyes were so ingrained in his heart that he’d do anything to see them again. He’d even help you, and morality was not a concern. If you wanted it, he’d make it happen for you.

Days passed incredibly slowly without any news. He couldn’t ride his officers’ asses to have more information on you, so he knew the minimum: you were alive, you continued your hectic schedule, you would soon reopen La Mordidita, and you had increased your security detail.

This last piece of intel confused Yoongi even more when Officer Jung said, “Is she in trouble? Is there going to be another attack like last time at the restaurant? Is that why you want us to keep an eye on her? Or is it because she knows you’re onto her?”

Yoongi frowned, considering both options. He ended up just giving a vague answer to Officer Jung, but spent a lot of time musing on it profoundly. 

You had enemies, he couldn’t deny that. You had demanding clients who played a dirty game, giving with one hand, taking with the other, and competitors. He didn’t know details, but he knew you laundered money, dealt in information, and recently entered the drug market. All of which had established groups looking to get a bigger slice of the pie, which made you a clear target. You usually kept enough information on people to keep their hands tied, but he didn’t forget how the Russians retaliated when you entered what they considered to be their dominion. It bothered him that that could be the reason you pushed him away; you knew he could help you. You knew he would pull through for you, that he’d personally get down and bloody to keep you safe.

However, he couldn’t scrap the idea that he himself was the problem — because he wouldn’t let go of you. You might have thought he wouldn’t stay away and would try to contact you directly, and increased your security as a countermeasure. It drove him crazy, making him groan as he grasped his hair by the roots. He had many flaws but he never imposed on you like that. Besides, he wouldn’t touch you. He knew you had bad experiences before him, but you had to know he wasn’t like that. It perturbed him to think that maybe you didn’t know. Maybe you thought he’d go crazy and act out or harm you — he didn’t know what to do if that was the case.

It was only after two weeks without you that Officer Jung reported on something he found out of the ordinary.

“There’s something that’s been bugging me,” he said on the phone, and Yoongi hid his sore eyes under his hand to focus on the call. “She’s been to this building downtown twice in the last couple of weeks, but today I followed to see what floor she’s visiting. It’s a private clinic. She’s there right now, presumably to see a doctor. I thought you should know.”

Yoongi thanked him and cut the call with a heavy heart. Out of everything, he thought that was the worst case. If you were seeing someone else, he’d probably hate them and have to convince himself not to look them up and screw them over. He thought that would hurt like hell, but he could live with it. If you were sick—

If you were sick and he’d lose you— 

He just couldn’t bear the thought, so his next step was a no-brainer — he went to the IT department of his agency and knocked on the door of a senior technician. It helped that he knew her personally and could talk inside her office.

“I need a favor. There’s a medical record I need to see.”

She didn’t ask questions, seeing that she trusted her boss, and in seconds his world was turned upside down.

“She did exams recently and it looks like everything— Oh,” she stopped, highlighting a hormone above the threshold. “Looks like she’s—”

Yoongi pulled the screen to him and almost glued his nose to it, making sure his contact lenses weren’t deceiving him before rushing out of there. He couldn’t see anyone trying to talk to him on his way to the underground parking; his mind was racing at the speed of light, far from the present.

He got inside his car and made a call to Officer Jung, “Where is she?”

“Did you figure out if she’s—”

“Just tell me where she is right now!”

If once he might have had an inkling of guilt for having people tailing you, now he was thankful he did. Not just because he knew exactly where you were, but also because he kept you safe, just like he promised. 

He parked in the police-reserved spot of the venue you were at. Apparently, it was some society charity dinner that started way before the sun had even set. Fortunately, being the Superintendent General allowed him to enter the room fairly easily after mentioning needing to speak with one of the guests. Anyone could guess the Mayor or another politician or elite of the type, but he instantly looked for you.

You were in the crowd, smiling beautifully with your hair styled over your shoulders, wearing a lovely avocado green dress with a high frame on your waist, letting the luscious waves fall to the ground endearingly. You were talking to someone relaxedly and he observed you from afar, waiting. 

Fuck, he had missed you. Just your smile from a distance put air back inside his chest that had been empty this whole time. His mind blanked, taking in every detail like you were a mirage. There was no denying what you meant to him, and now, everything was going to change.

Your eyes roamed the room and found him, and he made his move. He never stepped inside the party proper; instead, he circled the room to the corridor that led to the bathrooms and disappeared through the door.

You smiled and excused yourself before looking back and noticing Yoongi was gone. Your heart raced as you made your way across the room to go after him, wondering why he was there. Your legs were trembling but you tried to settle yourself as much as possible before opening the door he had last used. Surely there must have been a good reason for him to—

You almost kicked him when a hand darted out to grab your arm from a dead angle, but the familiarity kept you still. You didn’t have time to process how seeing him after what felt like an eternity devastated you; he wrapped an arm around your waist and dragged you along to hide in a handicapped bathroom.

You heard him locking the door before you opened your mouth, “What are you—”

His mouth crashed to yours in a split second, pushing into you so hard, you stumbled. His kiss was avid, desperate, and furious, filled with all the frustration, fear, and excitement about to burst out of him.

He couldn’t reel it in, but as his anxiety dwindled, he realized you were kissing him back in the same way. You were fighting his tongue, grabbing his coat, and so vulnerable in that kiss, that he thought you had missed him just as much. That maybe everything would be okay.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He whispered near your lips, and you were so consumed by the kiss, that you frowned, “What?”

His hand lowered from your waist to the swell of your stomach gently, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You hesitated, visibly paling before him even though your fingers gripped his coat for support. He could wait for your reply but not for you, not anymore. His lips landed on your cheek, nuzzling you to take in your scent as you gathered your thoughts, but those didn’t seem to matter to you. In seconds, you were grabbing his head to force him to kiss your mouth instead, taking from him needily just the same.

He took that as a sign that you still wanted him and pushed you back gently between kisses. Your back hit the sink and in a second you were sitting on it, inside his arms.

He grabbed your dress, trying to find a way to touch you, and all you could do was kiss him anxiously and wait for his touch. As soon as his fingers brushed your legs, your skin electrified, running goosebumps all across your body. 

It made you gasp, and he bit your lips, “I waited. For you,” he nipped and kissed down your chin as he tried to reach your panties. “All along I thought you had become tired of me,” he confessed with a grunt, finally sliding your underwear down your legs. You just eagerly held onto him. “I thought I didn’t turn you on anymore,” his voice a breath to your cheek as you heard him fumbling with his belt and pants. “Didn’t make you feel like the goddess you are.”

You almost squirmed in protest, but the tip of his cock kissed your slicked lips and your breath got caught.

“But here you are,” he groaned, pushing himself inside you and you gasped keenly, letting the sharp stretch overtake your senses. “And it’s mine.”

Your eyes snapped open to look at him, a storm of tears flooding them almost instantly, but he didn’t back away. You nodded despite your grimace, wanting to hide a cry in his neck, but he cupped your cheeks.

“Mine,” he whispered, snapping his hips to make a point alongside your forehead touching his. “You’re both mine.”

Tears still streamed down your face, even as you nodded and gripped his shoulders, pulling him to you with your legs. You had missed him so deeply like this, filling you in every way. It was bliss.

One hand of his moved to caress the swell of your belly, his hips gaining vigor, “You’re pregnant and it’s mine.”

He fucked you harder as if the very thought made him want you even more, and you cried out. Your heightened senses were making every snap of his hips absolutely breathtaking, and with the pleasure cursing through you like fire, you couldn’t think anymore.

“You let me come inside you,” he grunted to your neck before lowering his face between your cleavage. “And now you’re fucking mine.”

You threw your head back, holding onto him with a plea at the end of your breath. “Yoongi—”

You couldn’t talk, but it was as if he could read your mind. He grabbed you closer, pressing against you in a way that would have him rubbing your clit every time he thrust his cock inside you, making you instantly whimper with the new waves of mind-blowing pleasure.

“Come with me,” he rasped, brushing his mouth on yours in sloppy kisses. “Let me feel you cumming before I make you mine again.”

His hips slapping to yours made a perfect harmony to your moans, your hazed mind barely keeping it together. But the way he grabbed you, even now that he knew— Not just knew, but wanted you still; it tensed you up with untamed hunger like nothing else could. You forced him to fuck you at your cadence, imposing it with your ankles on his ass, until his cock hit the spot inside you perfectly. Your head dropped back, your mind overwhelmed by the upcoming climax about to sweep you away like the tide crashes against a shoreline. You moaned once, twice, tightening around him in anticipation before you screamed, shaking with the strength of an orgasm that rattled you from your very core. You only quieted down when you felt him coming deep inside you, pressing himself to your cervix as if to keep his seed sealed and locked.

You chuckled at that silly thought, and his forehead falling to yours brought you back to reality. You were still shaking with aftershocks, but his eyes were too real. His scent; he was really there, and he knew. Your eyes filled with tears again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked quietly, soft eyes on yours.

“I— I hadn’t decided what to do yet.”

“And now?”

“I—” Your voice wavered, “I couldn’t go through with it.”

He almost flinched, “With what?

You pressed your lips, your face scrunching up not to cry, and he held you even stronger.

“I thought of getting rid of it,” you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see his opinion reflected in his eyes, no matter which side of the coin he chose. “I didn’t know if you wanted it or how you’d react and— It’s making me all emotional and inconsistent and—” Your voice pitched, and you rushed to wipe the tears falling from your eyes, “It’s a fucking vulnerability and—”

You sobbed, and he instantly let you wholly lean on him, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I couldn’t do it,” you cried in the crook of his neck, and the relief flooding him was indescribable.

Still, he understood why it must have been so scary and difficult for you. He wanted nothing but to reassure you, “I got you. It’s okay, I want this. I fucking want this,” he added fervently, gripping you even tighter. “I’m so happy you couldn’t do it, fuck.”

His admission was a groan into your ear, making you shudder. You gripped him for a second, then dared to face him, bloodshot tearful eyes and snot.

He kissed your cheek and smiled, “I’ve never seen you bawling like this.”

And you instantly smacked his shoulder, “See?!”

His smile held as he squeezed you in his arms, “But it’s okay. I’ll fucking protect you, no one will ever lay a finger on you.”

Your hand cupped his cheek as your brain made sense of it. He wasn't shunning you or coercing you to abort. He wasn't even beating you into a miscarriage. When he said he'd protect you, you believed him because you trusted him like no one else.

But your lips still trembled, “There are people out to get me. The police included,” you looked him in the eyes meaningfully. “They would be in danger.”

You glanced down to your stomach, and his expression hardened, “No, not if we own this city. Trust me.”

You looked at him for a moment, the fear easily apparent in your eyes. But he assured you so firmly you only sighed. Owning this city was the only way, and you’d be damned if you wouldn’t achieve it.

So you leaned into him to rest your forehead on his chin, and he kissed your skin, “How long have you known?”

You sighed, “About three weeks.”

“So… when we fought…”

“I wasn’t ready to tell you,” your tone was assertive, but he just brushed your back soothingly.

“I understand. You could have, though. I went to your place every other day, but you never opened the door.”

“I wasn’t home!” You snapped your head back to face him, and he supported the nape of your neck. “I was never home at that time, or I’d just break down!”

Seeing you trembling, about to cry again, delivered your point across. Still, he smiled, “At least you knew about it. I thought maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t want to know.”

You grimaced, about to cry, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I just— I just didn’t know what to do!”

“It’s okay, I’m here for you. Regardless of your decision, I have your back. No matter what,” he insisted, gently massaging the back of your neck. “Please say you understand this.”

“I do,” your voice was like a whimper, revealing a deep vulnerability you didn't think yourself capable of.

You sniffled, and he leaned to kiss the tip of your nose, “That’s good.” He softly kissed your lips before humming, “I’m curious… How did you find out?”

You heaved a deep breath, “I was sick all the time, and exhausted. When I started puking, I decided to get checked. At first, it seemed impossible, so I did a few rounds of tests. Turns out my implant was busted; it stopped working way ahead of time. I should sue the pharmaceutical company for this—”

“Hey,” he interjected, seeing you were pouting and getting worked up. “Or maybe a congratulatory letter? Something like, We decided to keep it, lucky you.” He was amused and you ended up smiling. “A lawsuit would be too stressful; we have to think of you and the baby now.”

You hummed and pursed your lips, looking down at his chest for a moment. You knew what he looked like under the jacket and button-up shirt; the scars marking his skin, and the way his heart beat. Still, you couldn’t help feeling unsure.

And it disturbed you like nothing else ever did before. Not even listening to the baby’s heartbeat had perturbed you the way Yoongi did, now, just looking at you.

He had softened inside you, slipping out, but made no move to distance himself from you. It was like he wanted to stay close, to touch you. His hands were still supporting your hips under your dress, and when a strand of hair fell over your eyes, he reached to tuck it behind your ear. It all just reminded you of how deeply caring he was, and it scared you.

His eyes were sharp, attentively accompanying your thoughts just by your flickering gaze, “What is it?”

Your stomach churned. He was just so different, and it was all so much. The perception that normally you wouldn’t have thought or cared about any of this made you ever more uneasy, and the more he looked into your eyes, the more you had to hold onto his shoulders not to jump and get away.

But he called your name, and you focused on him again, “Hey.” His fingers were a sweet tingle on the sides of your legs. “You can tell me anything.” You believed him, and that was why you looked away. “You come first.” Your eyes snapped back up, tearing up before you could stop them. “So just tell me.”

A mute sob shook you and you let it out, “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this,” you looked around you, as if even the world had become foreign. “I don’t know how to be a good m— I don’t remember mine, my father was a pig and— I’m his daughter, you know?” You were shaking, holding onto him with glistening eyes, looking for understanding. “I don’t know how this is supposed to go, and you— You’re too good to—”

The sobs rattling you made it harder to talk, and you frowned, trying to breathe and brave through the confusion clouding your mind.

He helped by brushing your arms, “I've got no idea either.”

“But you’re good,” you countered, confused.

He chuckled, “I’m good? Good at what?”

“You’re just… Good,” your frown deepened as you tried to put it into words. “You’ll be a part of this and you’re good.”

“This? You mean your lives?” His tone was as light as a feather, yet it made you shake. “You’re worried I won’t be able to handle it?”

“No, I’m worried it will kill you. That this life will be the death of you, and our child,” you admitted, lowering your eyes.

“Remember when your restaurant blew and I went to get you?” His voice was quiet as he caressed your shoulders. You nodded. “That was the first time I fought for something that’s mine.” A quizzical look passed your features and he hurried, “Not that you were at the time, but… I realized what I’m capable of. Even knowing that there would be consequences, that I could be harmed at any point in retaliation… I did not care. I knew I’d be able to handle it. That was then, and now…” 

He looked down at your lips and you waited with bated breath.

“Now, it’s so much more. I have no idea how to be a father either, but we’re going to figure it out. We’ll protect them together.”

Your lips trembled, “Together… You know no one should know.”

Your voice wavered and your eyes held tears despite your harsh features. It was hard for you to say this, and he knew it.

He caressed your cheek, “I know. At least until we control things… We’re stronger if they think we’re enemies.”

You nodded and hid your eyes quickly. You were on the same page, but for some reason, it burned your chest to hear it.

He raised your chin, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stay away. We can keep doing things as we have so far.” You grabbed his hand but he didn’t let go. “That means seeing each other, and me helping you with what you need.”

You gripped his hand but he still held your chin, looking into your eyes as if he could read your answer in them. You knew all he could see were the rising tears, but he wasn’t bothered.

“Let me be good to you.”

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

Our Little Wife

The adrenaline of the past (BS) (Final)

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

Mafia! BTS x Chubby! Reader

Strong Language, Blood, Nudity, Manhandling, and A not so angelic Jimin

Jungkook,You Bastard. Ch 1

"We leave for a week on business, and Jung kook and namjoon are at each other's throats. Before we left, they were all love-Dovey - are you listening, Yoongi."

"Jungkook fell in love with a girl." Yoongi calmly responds, searching for a comfortable spot to rest his head.

Jin crawled by Yoongi's side. "Really?"

"Yep, instead of telling her right away or doing what Taehyung did with Jimin bringing her to meet us. He kept our marriage a secret."

"That doesn't sound like Kookie; maybe he got nervous about telling her. Our relationship isn't the norm, you know." Jin defends his bunny; though Jungkook's line of work is hellacious, he is never known to be a liar.

"Well, Bunny boy will have to figure his way out of this... Let's pray he doesn't do anything stupid."

Sadly, Yoongi didn't knock on wood because Jungkook was about to do something dreadfully stupid at the Ln's residence. He is abusing his assassin training to the fullest extent to ease his way through Yn's tight quarters.

Unaware of Jungkook's presence, Yn decided to end the rather stressful and pathos day in a hot bubble bath perfectly matched with Hershey's kisses and continue her favorite drama.

Chocolate helps heal all wounds, some say.....Their liars like him.

"Married." Everything felt so surreal; this morning, she was so hopelessly in love she was walking on sunshine, but now the forecast only calls for a nonstop downpour." the third teen missed calls from KoOkiE. "She mocked.

"You at least hear me out before giving me the cold shoulder."

Their eyes met and held contact but only for a second before Jungkook lost the war of temptation and ogled Yn's partially bubble-covered body.

Yn could feel the heat of embarrassment. "Get out, get out, get out!!" she cried.

Crash! The sound of glass shattering and Jungkook's pain-filled hissed.

In pure ignorance, She failed to realize the last object being launched was her cup. Her heart sunk as the crimson liquid rushed down from his left brow. She gasped.

Jungkook pinched his left eye close shut, preventing the blood from seeping in." I love you, Creampuff."

.....

"We should be taking you to the hospital!?"

Jungkook clicks his tongue at the saturation napkin. "Don't worry about me; just get dressed, Puff."

"Shit, That hurts." He mumbled, Aish, I might need stitches, and the only one allowed to patch me up is Hyung. He's going to kill me if I come home bloody again.

"I'm so sorry, Jungkook. I didn't mean to" Jungkook cut her off by snaking his arms around her chubby waist.

"I deserved-" Jungkook sighed. "I know you want an explanation about earlier today, but I think it would be better if I showed you."

The cost of her agreement was Jungkooks pride; upon his knees, he pulled off her nightgown and begged. Along with a splash of her own guilt for adding a new addition to the scar museum he calls his body.

1:53 am

Six painstakingly handsome men bombarded Jungkook's countless scolding remarks revolving around him having to get stitches for the fourth time this week.

On the other hand, the little misses sat on the other side of the room, bewildered by the number of people in this family.

Jungkook came clean about everything; he explained his bizarre poly and open relationships with his husbands. Apparently, five months prior, they welcomed a newcomer by the name of Jimin, who didn't take to kindly to her.

"I swear this family grows every time I take a nap." Yoongi yawned. "Seems I was the only one ready for bed." He referred to her delicate baby blue nightgown.

Embarrassed, She flitted the hem of her gown.

Days swift to months and eventually years, Years filled with an unexpected plot twist stabbing normality out of her life. Her status was changed from Ms. to Mrs; the job she worked so hard to maintain was considered redundant, and so was her home.

Slowly yet surely, she fell into a state of submission, blinded by the word " love." The new wife never saw a reason to question her husbands when something was a miss.

Nevertheless, like the beginning statement, She isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, unable to spot the duality of her husbands. She should have realized this the morning of their honeymoon.

The crisp December air nipped her arm.

The window was opened. 

In the middle of winter, she cringes at the overbearing sunlight. Their shared bed was empty. Where did they disappear to? She thought of the kind jester preparing breakfast before they returned; walking down the corridor, a random door caught her attention.

The forbidden room, The first rule of the household is under no circumstances is she not allowed to step foot in that room, but since nobody’s here, maybe just a peek wouldn’t hurt-

“You must love getting in trouble.” Her hand didn’t get the opportunity to touch the cold knob before a voice reached out to her.

Unimpressed, Jimin stared her down. “How stupid are you?” He snatched her wrist up with a bruising grip, dragging her downstairs.

“Ow, You're hurting me.”

“Cook, I'm starving.” Jimin released his grip after arriving at the kitchen.

She rubbed her sore wrist, relinquishing prince Jimin. The atmosphere was so thick it could be sliced in half; Jimin made it clear he hated her guts but the reasoning he doesn't know himself. 

……

It’s been nine hours; I thought they would be home by now. Being home alone with Jimin is unnerving; I feel like I’m walking on eggshells while anywhere near him. Why didn’t they take him wherever they went?

A series of heavy coughing followed by a thump caused her to jump out of her bed and rush downstairs to see Jimin collapse on the kitchen floor.

“Jimine!” Jimin's body felt like he was boiling inside, perspiring heavily. 

Thinking quickly on her feet, She remembered another rule of theirs, “In any case of emergency, always call Mr. Park Sangwoo; he's our private doctor.”

The line was busy; I feared he was too. Jimin is still subdued. Maybe 911 would have been the brightest idea. 

“This is the master Kim’s residence.” 

“Yes.Yes! Jimin is ill, and his skin is on fire-I don't know what do-”

The same voice on the phone appeared behind me. “Move aside, Madam; he's going to be alright.” 

He scared me! Where did he come from, and how did he get in?! 

Not wanting to hover over the shoulder of a working man to distract my nerves, I made porridge and medical tea and headed back upstairs to check on the doctor.

“Just what the doctor ordered.” He joked. “ Mr.Park will be alright; He just has the flu-I took the liberty of contacting Mr.Namjoon to put up his prescription.” Sangwoo sent a warm smile my way before showing himself out.

Yn watched over the sleeping flower until her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell asleep. 

“Aint this cute.”

“Hyung, Quick, take a picture.”

Familiar voices made the little wife stir, fluttering her lashes. Her other husbands welcomed her. “Your back!” She threw herself into someone close. Taehyung. “I was worried; who do you think you are leaving without saying anything.”

He flashed her a smile before kissing her temple. “ You're so cute, Honeypot.” Sweeping her off her feet into a bridal hold.

Namjoon spoke up. “Mr. Sangwoo told me about Jimin’s condition and how helpful you were.” He gave his head pats and took her full off Taehyung’s hands, holding her the same style. “You did so well. I’m proud of you.” He kissed her lips. 

“Creampuff!”

“Kookie!” 

She leaped out of Namjoon’s arms and rushed into Jungkook’s as he spun her around. “Mwah.”

They kissed.

“You don’t have to guess who’s her favorite,” Yoongi mumbled to the rest for them just to nod in agreement.

As you can guess, Jimin regained conscience within a few hours- He felt a little better, but he was still sick. “ I want some tea.” He muttered to himself. 

“Don’t get up, Jimine,” She scolded, holding a silver tray with delicious hot broth and a cup of medicine tea. “We made dinner.”

Jimin hmphed, ignoring her existence. 

She sighed, setting down the tray. “Listen, Jimin, I don’t know what you have against me, but even if you hate my guts, the feeling is not mutual; I love you. I know you’re a good man and a good husband, even if it’s not to me.” While taking her leave, Jimin jerked her onto the bed. 

Where their lips met, followed by Jimin muttering a soft apology. 

She giggled. “ It’s okay.”

Mafia! BTS! x Wife! Chubby Reader

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

Our little Wife . V

Sex Sells.

Strong language; Jimin’s a drunk asshole, fat shaming, Intense name-calling, sexual assault, puking, violence, man-handling, and bondage. I did say spicy

Jimin’s Past. IV

How else would the brothel remain untouched by the ever-growing society we live in today? Hiding in the dense shadows of Busan, The Brothel’s sign ominously blazed in a firey feisty crimson tint. Yes, for tonight, their god has returned as a return to bless their dreams once more.

Jimin.

Feeling numb through the high alcohol consumption, He smiled for the first time tonight. At what? Himself. He felt foolish for falling hard for a slut like you.

He snickered.

Jimin detests the persistent feeling of worrying about you. Unbelievable, Right? Not really, The sweetness of your warm squishy skin ghosted over his cold limbs due to the building's poor condition.

Autumn’s chill rattled the windows. You love autumn; He fell in love with you genuinely in the autumn-That day, the temperature played in his favor causing you to cuddle up to him as the orangish leaves crunch under their shoes. A plain walk through the park to the outsider but to Jimin, it was pure bliss.

Now, Look at him, Miserable, Heartbroken, ... Bitter.

May how far Jimin has fallen.

Bringing the pint glass to his puffy pink lips tilting his all the back to realize it's bonedry.

Jimin scoffed. “Tapped out.” sitting the glass bottoms up, He gently slides the glass to his collection on his table. “ Three.Four?....Eight! Come on, baby!... 13!-Damn..” His excitement died down at coming to realize a minor yet annoying error.

“That's an odd number...I wouldn't say I like odd numbers...I w-will have just one more.”

Jimin rushed to the stairs leaving in nothing short of pajama pants and its matching top open for the world to see...He forgot to button up after taking his shower.

Freezing mid-sip, Jimin focused solely on you- your shy and flushed expression made his eyebrow twitch-

“ You are by far the prettiest woman I have sight ever.” She leaned in. “You should work here. You would make a gold mine.” She laughed at your bewildered innocence. “ Yep, Korean men secretly worship chubby women like you. There's this young pervert who always comes in asking our chubby girls to sit on his face.”

Your mind is anywhere except on earth. How did your night end up like this? You should be at home in a hot bubble bath melting away the stress of today. Instead, your god knows where with women who have a one-track mind.

Fuck.

Jimin crept several steps over towards you. You looked healthy and as plump as a peach. He found it humorous how much you looked like an actual businesswoman. Slutty tight skirts and blouses ready to be ripped off, and those high heels that would look perfect in two places, and neither of them is walking, at least not straight.

Jimin clicked his tongue. Calm down. Calm down. It's probably what she fucking wants..She’s just an attention whore. Old habits die hard, they say.

The feeling of unknown eyes tracing your figure made you squirm in discomfort.

Ping

Whether it was your desperate need to excuse yourself or your phone pinging off the hook; had Jimin seeing red. Who the hell were you so eager to run off to? Sure as hell wasn't any of your husbands!?

Then who?! Who!

A face full of boiling rage fueled by a dangerously drunken state was a recipe for disaster. Jimin slammed his pint on the bar shattering the glass entirely; he followed you out front and was hot on your heels.

“Yah!” His voice boomed through the quiet red, lit streets.

Startled, You spun on your heels, and the shock of seeing Jimin made the blood in your veins run cold. “J-Jiminie?” You shuddered at his death glare.

Jimin scoffed, tucking any blonde stragglers behind his ears. “ You don't get to call me that after what you did to us!” His chest heaved with sorrow. “You threw away the only people willing to love you forever; what an ungrateful little whore you are. or Are you doing this for attention?” He truly got a kick out of that one.

You stood silent on the brink of tears; He wasn't worth your tears or your time. You turn on your heels only to take two steps before being manhandled by your arm.

“Yah! Don't walk away from me like I'm not fucking talking to you!” Jimin's anger took the physical form of tears. His throat burned so did his nose from the chilly early morning air.

Morning air? Is this correct? 5 am was rapidly approaching, and you had yet to close your eyes to start a new chapter the following day. You want to go home- Your real home; maybe you were stupid for creating this strike. Perhaps you should go back home.

“Your right, Jimin.” Your tears fall onto your ivory blouse. “I'm sorry for being selfish.”

Jimin froze. “No-No, your not getting off that easy. You don't get to get off that easy!” He yanked your skirt, bringing you closer into his arms. “ I want you to take responsibility...You hurt me bad, Chimmy.”

It wasn't until Jimin’s hands started to wander, You recognized the libidinous tone in his voice. He wouldn't dare ravish his own wife, Right?

“Now, Jimine, Let's talk this-”

Jimin shook his head. “There you go, Using that honey voice of yourself. Fuck. You know how to piss me off.” He stole your lips in an instant, biting and pulling at your swollen lips.

Your face pinged at his highly flammable breath. He's drunk. “Jimin-Wa-Wait a min.” You put up a good fight attempting to crease his assault, but even though you're around the same height, his strength trumps yours.

You hissed at the freezing brick wall; Jimin slammed you against- “Jimin! Stop it! This isn't funny!” One of your little hits landed on Jimin’s face.

He froze. You did the same, desperately catching your breath. Jimin’s sweaty blonde locks blocked his eyes; his tongue glazed his irritated lips.

“I can get rough too, Cow.” Jimin lowly chuckled, untying his pajama’s silk belt. “Be a good girl and face the fucking wall!” Jimin spat, gritting his teeth. He yanks you around to face the wall by the roots of your hair.

You gasped in pain.“Ow! Jimin! Please-”

“Please?! Did you just ‘Please’ me?! I hadn't done shit to you yet, and you're already begging.” He groans, taking big steps forward to sandwich you between him and the wall. "Since you're so eager - I guess I should at least tease you..but first- "

You squeaked in pain as his brutally bondage your hands behind your back; you could feel the silk cutting off your circulation. "You're a despicable little monster, Park Jimin!” You spat in his eye when he give you a window. " and you always have been."

Your word choice was an additional shot to his manhood and the end result was a harsh smack sending you to the ground. "Pretty bold words for tied-up cattle-” He flashed an eat shit-grin. “-In a woman's clothing.” The cheeky bondage method Jimin displayed is one of his favorites, a technique used for his clients who seek thrill and lore as much as insane pleasure.

Yn’s arms were kept tight behind your back with no wiggle room.

“You talk big but look at you...at my mercy” He looks at you in amusement as he squats beside you. “You're ours, Yn! When you met that demonic bunny, you sealed your fate. You don't even know what a real monster he can be-

Your heart stopped an ink-like figure crept out of the darkness, inching closer. “Jimin! Turn around!” Jimin failed to heed in time, costing him a stone punch to the jaw, followed by the figure’s heavy black boot to his abdomen.

You were expecting Jimin to be in somewhat pain; however, He chuckled, signaling for a timeout between the figure. Lacking, Your extra set of eyes, thanks to Jimin; you couldn't get a good look at him.

“Come on. I barely touch her yet. You can't be that mad.” Jimin swiped the blood caked up in the corners of his mouth. “ Aish, Don't you think you hit me a little too hard-”

The figure remained silent but waited no time to send Jimin to the ground again.

“Ah! Fuck!” He coughed up the dirt in his lungs before finally puking up the ungodly amount of poisonous liquid he had consumed.

Your sniffs and whimpers didn't go unnoticed. You squeeze your eyes shut as its heavy boots stop at your shuddering body. You've managed to set up and have knees to your chest.

The figure had a great view of standing above you like this. You heard his shoes glide on the gravel; Is he gone? Oh please, please, god, please, please. You swallowed your fear and opened your eyes; you quickly learned how much of a mistake you had made.

He rudely had no disregard for your personal space. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and his eyes bored into-

Those big eyes...Jungkook? But his build is different; he's larger than my Kookie...It hasn't been that long, right?

He leaned into your lips to have you reject him. “ What are you crazy?! I'm married!” You extended your leg to his chest to keep him a bay. It worked until the bastard started feeling up your leg; he kissed your ankle.

The touch-starved stranger dragged his gloved hand down your battered stockings and tarnished soft skin. He clicks his tongue, pushing your foot off his chest.

Did he just roll his eyes at me?

He stood up before snatching you up by your silky bonds. “ Eep!” You felt nausea after being treated like a ragdoll for the past hour.

The last thing you heard was Jimin’s voice before blacking out.

...

The warm sunlight overwhelmed your sleepy eyes. Once your eyes adjust to the sunlight, The horror settles in-

You were cleaned, dressed, patched up, and placed in your princess room.

My Husband's Name Is Jungkook. (Our Little Wife Au)

Quite literally background story of how Jungkook met his wife

Only two warnings! Pervert! Jungkook and 18-year-old Jungkook 🥵

Jeon Yn, Maiden name Valentine Yn, wedded into the mafia world by taking this guy's last name. Jeon Jungkook.

Remember that name, now.

Yep that's him..anyway.

Yes, Her last name is Valentine as Marshall Valentine. The late honorable sheriff, Marshall, was her daddy.

Mr. Valentine was in a league on his own, shooting & catching bad guys and fighting against life-threatening odds until a pair of big beautiful eyes opened up to him, extending her little hands in the air to her proud teary-eyed papa.

However, tragedy struck on the same day; the beloved Mrs.Valentine passed away during childbirth leaving behind a heartbroken husband and a newborn baby.

Having a sheriff as a father served as no picnic; thankfully enough for him, She wasn't the rebel teenager type, but she was curious, and sometimes that could be just as bad.

In her late teens, She grew into her mother's face; heart-stopping eyes, cute noses, kissable plush lips, and a voice so sweet its teeth rotting. She fits the princess's descriptions. Kindness, Innocence, Beautiful, and...smarts?

Okay, She's not the brightest crayon in the box; she's quite naive, to say the least; her father notices this after this instance

“I'm home!” She kicked off her Mary Jane at the door, her backpack abandoned along side her shoes. Regardless of her father stressing countless how much he nearly trips to his early demise. She cheerfully sat on her father's chair arm. “Hi, Daddy.”

He smiled.“ Hello, Sweetheart!” Mr. Valentine scrambled about the living room, searching for something that seemed not to want to be found. “For Christ's sake, The hell is that damn tie?!”

Her smile faded away. “Nightly parlor duty, again?” A silky black material shimmered out of the corner of her eye. The tie! “I got it. I got it.” She gently removed his helping hands from the tie allowing his princess to aid him.

Mr. Valentine was over the moon for his princess. The difficulty and worry of protecting his angel took a toll on his old body. He's no spring chicken anymore-and. This reality frightened him more than any criminal ever could.

“Daddy? Are you going to be late?” Those soften eyes snapped him out of his depression.

He sniffled. “Don't worry about me, Honeycomb.” He can't fall apart yet..not yet. He pecked her forehead. “How about this, little lamb, dinners on me. Duty calls, Sugafoot.” A quick peck on the forehead once more and out the door.

“Bye.” She whispered in the empty house space.

I will make dinner for when he comes home. Congee (Rice Porridge) sounds good, but do we have the ingredients? She was welcomed to an empty pantry, cabinet, and fridge, but her father's six-pack of beer.

Shopping it is, then. With her father’s credit card, She took her first trip alone, and she did great until the recipe called for beef stock.

What stood in her way of getting the stock?

Jeon Jungkook, Remember the man from the beginning? Nope, This isn't different, man, by a baby version of her husband. 18 or 19.Jeon Jungkook. The boy was sent to the market to get beef bulgogi, but for some reason, He was aisles from the meat.

She gulped. You and I know there's nothing to be afraid of when it comes to men, but Yn Valentine is petrified of simply being near one. No thanks to her father's scaring her half to death about the opposite sex.

She peeked at him from around the corner. He sure is pretty, Ain't he? He sure is. The boy had a captive audience. Yn spotted another girl arriving to distract him. The perfect opportunity to grab-that-stock.

She stretched onto her tippy toes. Still no dice. “Come on.”

A large hand reached from behind her, terrifying her but proving to be helpful. “Here.”

She took it, bowed, then speeded away.

Ignoring his commands to come back, She hurried to self-checkout and rushed on her way. She sighed, dropping her buckling knees on the sidewalk with her bags at her side.

Daddy never said anything about them being adorable. I mean, I’m not even sure if he was real.

“It's okay; The moment has passed. Now to get back home and cook dinner.” She clenched both her fists in a fighting spirit.

“Do you talk to yourself often?” A deep voice whispered behind her head; she whipped her head to the boy at eye level.

She gasped, falling back on her hands.

His brows jumped. “Are you alright?” He chuckled. If you squint, you can see his pupils change to hearts. “Listen, um-” He glanced into her, one of the bags chalked full of fresh cream puffs. She must love creampuffs. “Creampuff, You dropped this.” Her Powerpuff girl hair clip looked so tiny in the palm of his hand.

“Yes! That's my favorite clip-!”Failing for the bait in the palm of his hand, The boy snapped down on her wrist, yanking her into his chest. “What are you-Let me go! Right now!” She cried, pounding her tiny chubby fist on his chest.

He chuckles. “Settle down, Creampuff. I just want to see you in detail.” The boy's strength astounded Yn struggling against his bulk. Her skirt's fabric raked over the sidewalk's rough texture.

She huffed, looking away from the boy, allowing him to do as he pleased. If that's all, He wants-Anything to get back home fast.

“Good girl.” He was generally praising her, even kind enough to get head pats. The boy's dark eyes roamed Yn’s features, pausing in certain places he found interesting.

“That's a cute mole.”

Mole? The only mole I have is on my- She gasped, covering her cleavage with her free arm.

The boy sucked his teeth at your protest. " I didn't even look that long-"

At that moment, Jungkook's grip loosened enough for you to steal your arm and push him back by his forehead. A perfect window to pick up your bags and flee.

You caught your breath after securing your front door. I think it's safe to say I'll never get used to men.

It wasn't until late December she made another unfortunate encounter with the same damn man, but he looked different like this, like he's been through some stuff, and this is his mindset now

"You again?!" She struggles against his firm grip on her curves. " Let me go! Or I'll scream-mm hp!" Her eyes widen at his large hand, caging her lips shut...He smells..sweet like he just walked out of a bakery.

"So submissive..." He teased, pushing her patients by inching closer to her hidden lips. "Sadly, I like a chall-nge! " Jungkook dropped his hand to cradle his pained abdomen.

"Creep." Her insult was just salt in the wound at this point.

The encounters never creased...but not all of them were-bad.

Jungkook would often be the handyman when her father wasn't there, kept her company on stormy nights, shared his umbrella when it rained, kissed her forehead to wish her goodnight, and even stood beside her at her dear father's funeral.

Her husband, Jeon Jungkook.

Profile (Mafia Au)

Jeon Jungkook

⚠️ Mentions of Blood, Gore, Dismemberment, Pedos (not Jungkook), and Technically Serial Killer Jungkook...Hot Jungkook ♡

Master Assassin/ Mercenary

POB: Busan, South Korea

DOB: September 1, 1997

Age: 27 (In this story)

Family Relations: Unknown

Marital Status: Unknown

Body Count: Unknown

How dangerous is Jungkook?

If Mr.Kim decides to sic him on you... it's easier if you do yourself in to save you the trouble because there's no nook or cranny in this world that can save you from his favorite bloodthirsty blade.

For Example, A elderly pervert by the name Yang Jun, a well-known wealthy business man in South Korea although his pockets were unlimited, he's manners and morality were poor.

The big company man seems sure of himself as wired stolen money from some pitiful lowbirth thugs who claimed to be the technical Korean Mafia.

Little did he know Jun signed his whole death certificate and sealed it in crimson ink.

No warnings. No Death threats. No Second chances

"-The victim's dismembered parts was found suspended from his penthouse balcony railing alongside photographic evidences of the victim participating in unspeakable actions revolving around child porn-"

The list of victims who died by Jungkook's bloody hands are endless, I fear.

However, Yn will only see him as Kookie, You're big strong loveable bunny boy.

.....or maybe one day you will see the blood that stains his skin.

New! Our Little Wife Chapter coming soon! I'm excited, ain't you?! Tell me in the comments, it helps me write more lol!

Our Little Wife

~Princess Under House arrest~ Vol. VI

Mafia BTS x Chubby Wife Reader

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

⚠️Um? Yoongi is a warning on his own as well as (bad boy gone wrong) Jungkook. Hot makeout scene w/ long haired drunken yoongi🥵, Jin's a sweetheart beyond sweethearts, Vulgar Language, Manhandling, and Jungkook is a sexy hot head so watch out!☺

<- Sex Sells. V

Your nightgown caught your foot as you rushed to your vanity. You've been cleaned, patched, polish and pampered.

You looked beautiful, a barefaced beauty. A healthy glow to your skin, volume and fullness in your hair-gently brushing your fingers over your face you discovered your nails were fully manicured.

"What's going on?" You lifted your nightgown to find the same result, your toes matched your nails.

All was flawless beside the ache in your wrist, the only thing not tended too, grazing your fingers ghosted over the sore skin-

You hissed with an "Ouch." squeaking out of you.

The sight of Jimin, the very last person you laid eyes on, sent shivers down your spine. Memories came rushing back, overwhelming you with a flood of emotions. The cruel and heartless actions of your once beloved husband twisted your stomach into knots, leaving you feeling utterly disgusted.

Even more so, you shared concern for him, However you do believe that He got what he deserved before you passed out.

But the memories only caused more confusion. Why are you back home? the men knew Jimin? and that man who grabbed you. His eyes...they looked like Kookie's.

To yours and my surprise, One of your French doors was unlocked, You shivered at the numbing temperature and aura of the house, scrolling down the corridor, The wholesome family pictures successfully made you feel like a bit better.

"Kitten?" The echo of a deep male purr startled, Yoongi stood at arm's length he looked sloppy..his clothes were hanging of his figure, hair overgrown into a tousled bun dangling off his broad shoulders.

"Is this finally you? My kitten." He reeks of whiskey. Yoongi calluses grip your jaw bringing your face to his, You grip his button up to keep balance on your tippy toes. "Or I'm finally dying for alcohol poisoning and you're an angel sent to ease my pain as I pass on."

Speechless you stared into Yoongi's heated face to see a long open wound slashed down his right eye, the dried blood still staining his crimison cheek. "If so, Could you pity me a kiss for a heartbroken man." His voice deeply rumbled as he whispered to you before planting his lips on yours.

You gasped. "Yoongi-" ghosting your fingers around his eyes. "You're eye."

Yoongi's large hands ♡ swallowed your chubby waist tugging all of your weight on him. The Innocent kiss turned course following Yoongi's lead as he worked his tongue.

"Mm!" You squeaked against his lips.

His tongue tricks distracted you from those busy hands of his stroking up the curves of your nightgown. You found yourself sandwich between the wall and Yoongi not that you mind-

"Ya! You better not puke on my carpet again, Min Yoongi! Or I'm settling for a divorce." Jin cried, you can't see him but you could imagine the blood rushing to his ears. "Yoongi, if you feeling sick dead outside-" Jin's eyes meeting yours.

Jin's eyes grew three sizes. "Yoongi! You're being too rough-" A harsh shove knocked the wobbly drunken man to the wooden floor where he happily retired. "My princess, Are you hurt? Any of those scratches stinging." He checked you frequently.

Jin quickly settled down placing his large hands on your shoulders, his sorrowful eyes roamed down your nightgown. "Namjoon was right...I should have kept the door locked." He mumbled, the last part before freezing at the loud sound of his husbands coming home so soon..too soon.

In the panic of heavy boots headed up the main staircase, Jin shoved you through your door frame, repeatedly cooing apologies at you as you fell flat on your bum. " I'm so sorry, Daddy loves his princess." You hardly heard him over the door closing with a click. He locked it.

"Is she up yet?" Kookie...

You kept your ear to door.

"No,-" Jin lied. " She's still asleep." You could hear his knuckles whiting from his intense grip on the french door's golden handles.

"What?! It's been three days?! Aren't you fucking concerned-at all!?" Jungkook's satori boomed, startling you on the other side.

You never heard kookie raise his voice maliciously to anyone especially his older spouses.

Jin's temper boiled over much like your bunny's. A loud thump was heard through the wood then a pregnant silence. Jin disciplined Jungkook upside his head.

"How dare you speak to you like I'm one of those punks you beat up, You feral mutt-!"

In seconds, The tip of Jungkook's nose tap Jin's as a horrifying fire burned Kookie's eyes. "What the actual fuck did you just call me?!"

A sudden adrupt shove against the doors sent you hurling into your fluffy carpet once more as fatal squeak falls from your lips. As soon as the cute sound left your mouth, Jungkook released his assault on Jin's collar.

The silence between the two men was deafening til Jungkook broke it with a small whimper. "Creampuff?! Are you alright?!" Jungkook ripped Jin away from your door, swinging opening them open to find you, his startled Creampuff grasping on your nightgown for dear life.

My goodness. You gasped. Nevermind the fact, He completely broken the lock on the doors effortlessly. I don't even think it he realized yet.

Jungkook stood tall before your dumbfounded face, You can admit it's been sometime since you seen your husbands but these dramatic difference in appearance are not for the faint hearted, to yoongi new scar and long hair to Jungkook's entire existence at this point.

He too has quit cutting his hair leaving his to fall to his shoulders , mainly hiding a good some of his face and yet the little droplets shimmering off his tips enchanted you.

It must be raining horribly upon how drained he is.

Jungkook's heavy muggy boots destroyed your ivory carpet as he slowly walked towards your shaken figure in awe. "It's really you?" He breathed, dropping his knees on either sides of your thighs, leaning closer in your face. "It is you."

Your eyes can't stand to look away from the new tattoos decorating the left side of his neck, beautifully paired with the two addictions piercing his lip and eyebrow.

Is this your kookie?

Kingpin - Teaser

MafiaBoss!KimSeokjin

Warnings: Aged Up Jin, Aged Up Namjoon, subtle yandere Jin, kidnapping, implied murder, Namjoon is a dick in this and also low-key the bad guy which sucks but this world needs more Namjoon villain roles am I right, if I think of anything else as I write the story I'll write it in the warnings of future chapters

Kim Seokjin.

37 Years of age.

The head of the biggest crime syndicate in South Korea.

He had everything. Money, power, allies. You name it. Except for one.

He didn't have someone to share it with. It was never a problem with Jin until his friend invites him to a wedding and he sees how happy they are.

And then he spotted her at the ceremony.

Her name?

Jang Soomin.

He had to have her. For he was Kim Seokjin.

And what the kingpin wants, the kingpin gets.

Coming Soon.

Kingpin: Chapter 1

Opening/The Invitation

Warnings: Violence (physical violence, including a character punching a wall out of anger)

Kidnapping/Disappearance (The central plot involves the disappearance of a character)

Emotional Distress (Jin’s going through a rough patch emotionally and mentally)

Mafia/Crime Themes (story involves criminal activities, including organized crime, mafias, and rivalries)

Tense Atmosphere (The story maintains a consistently tense atmosphere, which may be unsettling for some readers)

——

In the heart of Seoul, where the air gets damp and cold, and nobody who was a nobody dared to enter without permission or invitation, a tall building sat. On the top floor, the CEO of Sentinel Solutions, South Korea’s most prominent security consulting firm, was in a panic.

He was a tall man, standing at about 5’10. His brown hair was styled into a mullet and parted with a prominent swoop on the right side of his face. Always dressed in a clean, ironed suit, the man was about 37, and behind his charmingly good looks, he was one of the most feared people you could imagine.

His name?

Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, whose front business already generated enough revenue to keep him wealthy for the rest of his life, had been dealing with a problem in his true walk of life. One where he was known as the Onyx Reaper, kingpin of the biggest crime syndicate in Seoul, the Ecliptic Shadows.

“Boss, we have no leads on Jiwoo.” A deep voice called from the door. It was one of Seokjin’s most trusted members, Taehyung. Taehyung had come to let his boss and friend know that his sister, who had vanished into thin air the previous air, was still not found.

Seokjin, who had shed tears upon tears when his employees weren’t with him, got up and punched the plaster in the wall out of anger.

“I want every available man searching, search all of Korea if you have to! Nobody stops until my sister is safe under our protection!”

Taehyung bowed to his boss, and left the office. As he was walking down the hall, he came across his best friend Jimin who hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“Not good. He punched another hole into his wall.” Taehyung answered sadly as the two walked hurriedly to where her disappearance was being investigated.

“I didn’t realize their fight yesterday was this bad. Do you have a clue what it was about?” Jimin asked as he sat down at his desk.

“No idea. All I remember was them screaming at each other before she locked herself in her bedroom. Next thing I knew, the alarm was tripped and she was gone without a trace,” Taehyung answered.

——

After searching day and night for two days, Seokjin was on edge continuously. His sister had still not been found, and the longer she’s missing, the less of a chance she’ll be found alive.

While he was at his desk searching through evidence, his youngest friend, Jungkook, walked in with an invitation in hand.

“Jin- um sir-“ he started but was interrupted.

“What.” Jin said and looked up.

“One of our allies sent this invitation to his son’s wedding. Apparently it’s really important you show.” Jungkook said and handed Jin the invitation.

Jin read to himself,

“Dear Seokjin,

You are cordially invited to Minjae’s wedding. I know we have been dear allies and good friends for a while, so it is requested you show your support and celebrate with us. It has been a while since you have attended any functions with us. Come say hello! The ceremony is at 2pm sharp this Saturday. I hope to see you!

Sincerely,

Park Joon-ho.”

“Jin, I know this is a critical time but I figured we could weed out suspects at the wedding. Many different mafias are coming including… Namjoon.” Jungkook confessed.

Jin banged his fist on his desk in anger.

“That asshole? Why is he showing up?” Jin shouted.

“I’m not sure but I have a bad feeling. He never attends events like this.” Jungkook said.

Jin thought for a moment. He made a decision.

“Fine, we’ll all go. But there will be people searching while we are there.”

——

The day of Park Minjae’s wedding had arrived. Seokjin, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook arrived along with extra security in case something went wrong.

They took their positions and sat through the wedding, constantly on alert for any danger. Little did they know, three pairs of eyes were watching from the back row, watching their every move. The head of the three was very interested in speaking with the Onyx Reaper.

At the reception, everyone was communicating and speaking of relations when Jin was approached.

“Kim Seokjin, a pleasure to see you out and about.” The deep voice spoke.

Jin turned around and came face to face with his rival.

Kim Namjoon, the Shadowstorm Reaper, and head of the Obsidian Syndicate.

——

Kingpin Chapter 1 is finally here! I can’t wait for you all to read what I have been working on. I hope you all love it! If you do, please comment or reblog and show some love!

💜💜💜

Between The Bloodshed (Series Masterlist)

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of them through recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

~

Drabble List

💜💜💜

Everything Between Us (Series Masterlist)

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: They left you without a goodbye, they broke your heart. You didn’t get your happily ever after. But now they’re back and they’re searching for you to make things right. Could you take them back into your life and let them back into your heart?

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

EPILOGUE

💜💜💜

MASTERLIST

Legend

↣ ♤ Coming soon // ✎ Ongoing // © Completed // ℗ Paused/ Hiatus

↣ ♡ Romance // ☁ Angst // ☺ Humour // ☆ Fantasy // ☽ Dark

Keep reading

💜💜💜

cry me a river | the apologies

— summary: how many apologies have you heard in your life? too many to count

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 5.7k

— warnings: none

— PART 21 / previous post / masterpost

“Do you know how much we panicked when you didn’t come home and fell out of the radar?” When Namjoon finally gets a moment amidst the whole chaos of Yoongi finally back with you still unconscious even after the successful surgery, the door is closed and locked, and no one except the seven of them stands in the room of the hospital that is still hosting you. They can finally confront Yoongi about what happened.

“I thought I knew Min Yoongi but the moment you were kidnapped, everything that I thought I knew about you fell out of place when I tried connecting everything to see what happened, who you angered, the people you were around before you joined me, but I came up with nothing. You’re not someone who’ll go out there secretly meeting up with leaders and pissing them off, I know that, and I trust the person that you are now, right in front of me, so I knew whoever was trying to hurt you couldn’t possibly be someone we know, and that’s when I figured there’s been something you haven’t told us. Perhaps it doesn’t matter now, and perhaps it’s all in the past for you, but Min Yoongi, I have to know everything because the moment you get hurt again, I won’t stand for it.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Yoongi says, quick but truthful, and so they listen in to what he has to say. Yoongi hesitates for a moment, remembering what you asked him in the alleyway a few days ago, how you asked whether Namjoon would care now, and because he knows the answer, he takes a deep breath to let the truth tell itself. “I am,” he pauses, “was, the heir of the Viper gang.”

They react with dumbfounded expressions, and Yoongi knows it’s a shock because how would anyone have figured that out? He’s always been quiet, stood back to let others handle things, dislikes watching people getting tortured, and does everything the opposite of what an heir does.

Every child that’s born under a mafia ruler is taught to stand formidable, act a certain way, and talk a certain way. No one has ever been an exception, so of course it comes out as a shock when Yoongi reveals to them that not only is he related to the Vipers but was the son of Min Junmyeon.

And he had a sister.

“Junmyeon never said anything because I was like a child thrown out of the throne that was meant to be his. Although I wasn’t kicked out.” He looks up, a small, bitter smile curling up just slightly. “I didn’t lie when I said I ran away from the life I was born into. I did run. I ran because I was invisible and because no one cared. They didn’t care to search for me and force me back so I didn’t return. For some time I was content with that life. I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t sad. I was okay with it. When Nari was born, Junmyeon took a whole 180-degree turn and flipped his switch. His whole life was dedicated to her but I never came to resent the way she stole the attention of everyone in the gang. I didn’t care, but I did want to seek approval. What sort of child wouldn’t? I was a good brother, protected her when needed, but eventually I grew tired of being invisible to everyone and just ran. When no one came searching for me, I returned once to see how things were, to see if they had cared but just had a hard time looking for me. But in the end, no one sought out for the lost heir, they probably didn’t even notice, so I took off to the streets and decided it was better there than to live a doll life, invisible to everyone.”

When he speaks of his past, the sort of person he was before he met them, Yoongi doesn’t speak with emotions. He isn’t that man who was filled with emotions days ago when they brought you here, when he didn’t want anyone close enough to touch you, when he took his promise to you to heart. 

Perhaps it was his guilt toward you, perhaps it was his way of apologizing, and no one would blame him for that.

Yet this Yoongi is different. This Yoongi is the usual Yoongi everyone sees, the Yoongi who looks so lifeless, who looks as if he has no heart or anything he desires in this life.

“We were enemies then,” he tells Namjoon, and this time there’s a bit of life, a small little crease in between his brows. “Your gang and the Vipers didn’t get along and, I knew who you were when you saved me that day from those thugs, yet I still followed you because you were the first person who saw me. You saw me and you saved me, while back in the Viper’s manor, I was kidnapped along with Nari and took a scar down my back for her but no one cared. They never cared, and when I received my first kindness…I decided to follow you. But I was too guilty to tell you the truth about who I was and where I came from. That’s why I never said anything.”

“But the Vipers stopped mattering to me a few years after we met,” Namjoon points out. “Why did you never tell me then?”

“I…” He catches himself, pausing, and takes a brief glance at the others. “Everyone else…went through something much worse than I,” he says. Softly. They watch him with confusion though let him keep speaking. “I grew up alright. I grew up privileged. The only thing about me was Junmyeon’s neglect and being invisible to everyone in that manor. Compare that to what everyone else went through? I didn’t want to bring my problems in, I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone with my useless worries. You all had people after you, wanting to actively hunt you down and hurt you.”

“Just because you didn’t have people actively trying to kidnap you doesn’t mean you were safe from the abuse,” Hoseok cuts in as he strolls down to take Yoongi’s hands. He was there when Namjoon saved him, he was right there to have seen the scars Yoongi retained and the pain in the little boy’s expression that night. Yoongi may act like he never cared back then but he did. And both Namjoon and Hoseok have seen it to remember the story otherwise.

“In the end, you were still kidnapped. They showed up years too late but you still ended up hurt.” Seokjin places a hand on his face, brows creased when he runs a smooth thumb over the bandage wrapped around his eye.

“This wasn’t because they went out of their way to hurt me,” Yoongi admits, the good eye meeting the floor with a little tilt in his head. “I actually got hurt because Nari was about to kill Y/N and stepped forth trying to stop her and in the process, she got my eye.”

So they really did have intentions to kill you.

“You watched her too, didn’t you?” Taehyung asks. “It wasn’t just Sunoo. You saw it too.”

He wonders how he would have felt being in his hyung’s position, watching the woman he once loved going through such torture right before his eyes, all the while knowing he could do nothing. In the end, Yoongi was able to save you. In the end, Yoongi carried you out and ran you to safety with the little kid who had been the reason the both of you couldn’t get out that soon.

You both sacrificed something.

Namjoon holds Yoongi’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he tries to envision the pain. Yoongi will only be able to use one eye from now on, and although it will take a moment, he’ll adjust and he’ll get used to it. But for now, they’re here for him, through and through.

“From now on, no more secrets,” he whispers into the silence that walks in. “I don’t want to know how it feels to lose someone else. I can’t.”

.

.

.

Quiet.

Silence saved by the beeping on the monitor that indicates you still live, that your heart is still racing. Yuna, still seated on the floor but now on the floor of the room you’ve been relocated to, sits still to hear the sound, not moving an inch because if she cannot see, she can hear. It’s the only thing that’s keeping her sane.

Mingyu sits on a chair by your bedside. Dasom stands against a wall beside the door, arms crossed, eyes closed. Yeonjun sits on the couch along a wall, watching Sunoo who had refused to leave until he sees you wake, and in his stubbornness to sleep when needed, he’s finally managed to fall asleep with the sleeping dose Yeonjun used on him.

A few more Reapers stand outside the door, watching, waiting.

A finger twitches, subtly, but it doesn’t leave the hawk eyes of your right hand man. 

“Boss?” He calls, standing.

A heartbeat.

Then before he realizes, an arm extends out of nowhere, leaving him in a chokehold with a grip that has lost much of her strength after the event she’s gone through.

“Boss, it’s Mingyu,” Dasom quickly says when she runs to your side and Yuna has followed along.

Your eyes which had been deadly and alerted with suspicion, loses their glare once you realize who the person that had been by your side was. 

You loosen your grip around Mingyu’s neck, brows furrowing slightly as you take a look at your hand, realizing there are white bandages wrapped all the way up to your neck You stare at your fingers, noticing the pain in your wake, before something hits you and you feel a strong headache pounding hard.

You look over at Mingyu when you get up with the help from Dasom, feeling some sense of deja vu, though you can’t explain why.

“Have I…choked you..before?” You ask. As ridiculous as it sounds — because you’d never lay a hand on your Reapers — something about it just feels a bit…familiar, for some reason. Maybe you’re still dreaming, maybe the madness is spreading and you’re just making things up now but why, for some reason, do you feel as if you’ve held Mingyu by the neck before?

Mingyu doesn’t hesitate nor does he look away when he answers; “No.”

You have your reply and yet it still feels odd when you bring your hand to your head, slowly and gently rubbing your temples as you close your eyes. But then something suddenly hits you and you open your eyes again.

“Where am I?” This isn’t the manor or any place that belongs to you. You’d recognize it if it was.

“It’s a small hospital that belongs to Bangtan,” Mingyu explains. “It was the closest place they could get you to for help.” Your eyes widen in alertness but he’s quick to continue before your heart rate can increase. “As far as I know, Mr. Min was the only one to have touched you. He fended off anyone that tried to get close.”

Yoongi went to the extent for you?

You look down at yourself again, dressed in something you’ve never worn before and it almost feels as if you’re playing some patient in a mental ward. Father never cared to send you to hospitals when you were hurt, you were always taken care of by the medic team or during times when he’d punish you by not enlisting their help, it was your Reapers that had to find what they could to help you.

You’ve never been bedridden in a hospital bed before.

What a sight to behold.

You hate it.

When you throw the blanket off you and try to pull the uncomfortable IVs from your wrist, Mingyu takes your hand to stop you. “Look at your legs, boss, you can’t walk. And you’re still in pain everywhere.”

Wrapped legs. Wrapped arms, torso, and chest.

You look like a mummy.

“I’m not in pain,” you deny. “I can walk—”

“No, you can’t.” He stands tall, refusing to let you do what you wish and you know Mingyu only does this when you’re putting your health at risk otherwise he’d never go against you.

Still, you shake your head when he tries to put you back and they hear the way your heart rate increases. You look over at the sound of the monitor, falling with even more loathe because that thing is like a window to the things you want to hide. You try to push Mingyu off, a lump in your throat because it feels like you’re a prisoner and you don’t want to be here.

You don’t want to be here.

“I don’t like this,” you breathe out but Mingyu holds your shoulders and leans in close.

“That isn’t for you to say and this isn’t the place to panic,” he reminds you in a low tone and you know. You know this isn’t the place, you aren’t safe here, you aren’t safe to express and panic and get upset and do whatever it is you want to do but that’s exactly why you don’t want to be here.

You aren’t safe.

“I want to go home.” A shudder comes through you, a tremor in your hands.

The monitor continues updating.

Beep. Beep. Beepbeep—

“Stop it. Please, stop it. Don’t let them come in.” You know it’s alerting whoever can hear it outside this room. You know the door is about to open because you’re a patient and patients mean listening to what the doctors say and what the nurses say and what everyone else says. “Don’t let them come. Don’t let them come.”

“Yeonjun.” He takes Sunoo in his arms upon Mingyu’s command, leaving out the door. “Yeong.” Mingyu speaks into an earpiece and Lisa, Haneul, and Yiseul rush in.

Mingyu, Dasom, and Yuna back off to let them do their job while outside the door, Yeong and Jae have stepped up to stand guard.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asks when the two Reapers hold their hands up, refusing to let anyone else in. From where he stands, along with the curtain covering the one window of the door, he can’t see what’s going on.

“We cannot let you in,” Yeong says strictly. “Please. For our boss’s privacy.”

“Is she hurting again?” Sunoo, who had woken up amidst the chaos, asks with worry shaking him once again.

“It’s not what you’re imagining,” Yeonjun tells him straightforwardly in a blunt tone, before looking up at the group that has gathered as if telling Namjoon he should know exactly what he means.

Upon that subtle confirmation, Namjoon backs down, nodding at his people to leave you be, before he walks off with Yoongi and Jungkook following behind.

On the other side of the wall, you must be awake and not taking things well. You’re panicking perhaps, losing your composure, and only the Reapers are allowed to see anything of that relating to you. No one else.

Back in the manor when you had confronted him and pretended to be the bad guy in his life, he saw a brief moment of you losing your composure. They all did. 

The moment you realized you had touched Namjoon, the moment everything started coming down so you walked over to a corner away from them all. You held yourself well despite everything threatening to tear you apart and Mingyu came in time to get you out of there, but in this hospital where you’ve undergone surgery and cannot move around so carelessly, there is only so little your mind can do to trick you out of panic.

And perhaps because it’s failing to protect you from the eyes of strangers, from the eyes of people you don’t trust, maybe that’s why the Reapers have all come into defense mode and have refused anyone to go near you.

“I want to go home.” Meanwhile, you repeat those words inside the room, feeling your throat clogging up and something scratching it so hard you wish to just tear it out. “I want to go home. Take me home.”

The monitor is still going off while you try to shake the hands that try to hold you down, kicking off the blanket, struggling to stay still.

“I want to go home..” Soon your voice dies down, quieting, quieting, until it turns completely silent and you’re simply doing nothing but trembling uncontrollably. You let your knees kick up to your chest, head lowered into them, hands coming around to cover your ears and they know. They know what’s happening.

You’ve never been loud. Not ever.

And although the silence, coldness, and the dark scares you more than anything else in this life, it is the only thing you succumb to when you feel as if everything has gone out of control.

Your silence tears your Reapers apart because it is your silence that tells them you aren’t okay.

That you’re in your most frightened state.

Lisa lets Mingyu come close when you succumb to the silence and they all stand back to watch him work his magic.

He dips the bed when he takes a seat, and when he reaches out to give your arm a tentative touch and you don’t flinch away, he allows himself closer. He puts both his legs onto the bed and pulls you in like you’re nothing but a small little child who needs calming down. Mingyu brings you into his lap and takes your hand from your ear, letting your head rest against his chest so you can hear the beat of his heart, and wraps his arms around you in a soft, soft embrace.

It takes time but eventually, the shaking stops. Eventually, the tension falls away and you allow yourself to welcome the embrace and let your limbs fall loose.

Too tired to hold up.

Too tired to keep strength.

Beep…beep…beep…

Your heartbeat slows as it follows after the one you’re listening to as if it is the only sound in this world that can save you from the depth of the sea.

The sound of the whale singing you a lullaby and bringing you to fall asleep once again.

.

.

.

“Deal with them. I don’t know what Yoongi wants but it’s not my call to have them dead.”

Days after sending that letter off to Namjoon once things started to calm down on your end, you hear news of the remaining members of the Vipers completely wiped out. You’d been back at your manor for a good time now, ever since waking up for the second time and finding relief in knowing you weren’t at some unknown place. Luckily. 

Your Reapers always know just what to do when a situation calls for it and you’re glad you have them by your side.

With you bedded and unable to walk and do much on your own, you let them follow you through words alone. The Academy is to set up training lessons on both combat and weapon skills. Initially, when building the school you thought against the idea, but since Sunoo’s been used against you as leverage, you figure giving them some life skills should come in handy in the future. They won’t become your little assassins per se but if they want to survive in this world, they have to learn how to fight it. It’s for their own survival, you can’t have a situation with Sunoo repeating again. They should at least know how to defend themselves if anything.

You’ve also told your Reapers the names of the people that have hurt you before, the ones they don’t know of, the ones from before Yuna arrived. It’s a secret you’ve always kept in the back of your memories, not wanting them to return, but if another situation comes out in a similar fashion, you’d rather be prepared.

They have to know, even if it’s just names.

At least then they won’t be led into the dark if you’re taken away again and will have a better chance at suspecting who.

When you’re good enough to stand on your feet and when Mingyu stops becoming so overbearing, the first place you visit is The Academy where Sunoo stays in his dorm alone, isolated from the rest.

“What’re you doing not playing with your friends?” His head perks up when he hears your familiar voice, that look of dread and loneliness brightened up if even for a moment. You see the way his eyes light up, widening, his feet meeting the floor when he jumps down from his bed, quick on his knees with a head lowered down to the floor before anyone can tell him anything.

You freeze in the moment, silent, before signaling to Yeong to have the door closed so that only you and Mingyu remain.

Your second in command walks off to the side, leaning against the wall to give you space when you approach the little boy whose shoulder trembles when lowered before you.

“Sunoo,” you call, and he flinches a little. “It is during times like this you should surround yourself with your peers, otherwise—”

“I’m sorry,” he cuts you off and you simply stand there again, not approaching any further.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Yuna, age thirteen, tears rolled down her working eyes when you ran to room 157. “I just…I just want to make it all better.” Apologizing because she was incompetent.

“I’m sorry.” Mingyu, age twenty-six, uttered the only words he could find when you told him one could not break a broken person. “I want to save you.” But he can’t.

“I’m sorry.” Yeonjun, age ten, handing you a cup of rose water, his jaws clenched after your father’s Reapers left the room. “It’s tea,” he says. “It isn’t poisoned,” he says. And you drink it.

“I’m sorry.” Dasom, age twenty-four, blood on her face, blood on her hands, knelt before you with a head lowered, shoulders trembling. “I won’t make the same mistake as he did.” Killed the first Reaper that almost spilled your secrets.

“I’m sorry.” Nakyum, age seventeen, accepts his fate with a smile, eyes only looking your way with the rest of your Reapers surrounding him. The first to lose control, the first unable to restrain himself. “I hope in my next life, I can run to your side without having to hold myself back. May we meet again…in that life.” Dead.

Someone apologizes when they can do nothing. Someone apologizes when they’ve done something. In the end, fate will always pull the people around you into the hell you’ve been born into. No matter how much you push them away to escape it, to live the life they so deserve, they remain still and stubborn, vowing to always stay by your side no matter what.

Yuna lost her eyes. Nakyum lost his life.

No one else.

No one else.

You sit on the floor in front of Sunoo, crossing your legs together and close your eyes. You take in a deep breath, in and out, head tilted to the sky as if sending a prayer to Nakyum, asking him to continue his duties in watching over you all. You’re still selfish to this day, wanting to hold onto the dead.

“You did well,” you say into the silence. “You did well.”

Sunoo shakes his head, still unable to look you in the eyes. Perhaps feeling unworthy to do so. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t,” you affirm and you see the way his hands ball into fists, turning knuckle white. “One day, perhaps, you can be like that gentleman that stepped in to take the blade for me. One day you will be strong to protect the ones you care about. But until that day comes, you have to accept the fact that you’re weak. Do not dwell on what could have been, dwell on how you could have done better. You acted well and played your part. Nari wanted you to scream and lose control, she wanted you to beg her to not hurt me, she wanted to watch you fall apart. If you had fallen victim to her play, she would have done worse on me, Sunoo, I know she would have. There are people who exist to make things harder on others. There are people who exist to laugh in the face of tears.”

“Even still—”

“Even still,” you cut him off, repeating those two words with more emphasis, “you are a child. And you cannot expect to do anything more than to stand and watch. Sometimes being a good bystander is all there is to do. Sometimes being a good bystander is all you can do. You protected me, Sunoo, so do not apologize for doing what I had asked you to do. But if you find yourself still dwelling on the fact that you should have done better,” you lift his head from where it sits, resting a cold hand on his face when he tries so hard to keep the tears back for your sake, “get stronger.”

Sunoo bites onto his lower lip, eyes kept wide and unblinking because he knows that if he wishes to not cry, a single blink will allow the rain to fall. “Yes, my lady.”

You pat him on the head and stand from your seat before simply walking off. 

When the door closes behind you, only then does he finally allow himself to cry.

“I’m sorry,” his voice breaks when Mingyu approaches him on the floor, hands rushing to wipe his tears yet they keep on coming. “I’m sorry I…I don’t know how to stop. The lady hates tears and yet—”

“You did well.”

Sunoo shakes his head. “I still showed her my tears. I..I-I’m not supposed to—”

“Boss was born in an environment that forced her to block all her emotions out. Her own father was a manipulating man who is incompetent of feeling. You are seven.” He places a hand on Sunoo’s shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze. “Boss built you a place under her rule so that children like you do not have to live the life she led. She will forgive you if you cry.”

And so he does.

He cries. 

This time without hands pushing the tears away, this time with snot and hiccups and sounds. And as Mingyu watches the little kid who was forced to hold a weight upon those shoulders, he wishes he could see the same with you.

Crying.

And not succumbing to the silence.

.

.

.

“Should you be walking on your feet so casually like that?”

One question still remains. One question that has you questioning everything else.

Why the hell does Namjoon seem so cool about everything?

I mean you didn’t provoke him any further and made jabs at him but why are the two of you okay enough to send letters to each other regarding the Viper situation? Isn’t he supposed to be mad at you for Jungwon? And the fact that you got Yoongi hurt to the point of him only being able to see through one eye now? Namjoon’s protective when it comes to his loved ones getting hurt so why aren’t you being yelled at? And why was he cool enough to send you to their private hospital and even had doctors on standby? You didn’t use them but that’s beside the point.

Is it because you were on the verge of death? But Namjoon never cared about that when it came to his enemies.

You look over at Yoongi not so discreetly, a tilt in your head, confusion plastered on your face, and in his own confusion as to why you turned to him in the first place, he simply gives you no response.

So you turn back to Namjoon, shrugging at his question. “It’s been over a month, I wouldn’t let just anyone take me down like that.”

He hums, agreeing, and you take another look at Yoongi who doesn’t avoid eye contact. The last time you saw him he was all bloody, blood dripping past the wet cloth you placed over his eye. The last time was when you were in that alleyway, telling him to not let anyone touch you.

He kept his promise, according to Mingyu, and perhaps that was his showing of apology for what he’d done to you all those years ago. You wouldn’t deem Yoongi as someone to have ignored the little trust you had put in him.

“I have a question, Kim Namjoon.” You turn to the man in charge. “Did what happened the last time we met each other fly past your head? Because it awfully feels as if it’s not affecting you one bit. Unless this is all just a ploy to lure me in and kill me afterwards.”

He raises a brow. “You think I like playing things out in the long run?”

Right. When it comes to Namjoon, whatever he wants, whoever he wants dead, they usually die within a week of his declaration. He doesn’t do the waiting game.

“Then why am I still alive?” You ask so casually it’s as if you were speaking of the weather. “Are you a fool?”

“I’m not a fool, Y/N, and that’s precisely why I will not kill you, whether you try to force my hands or not.” He gives you a pointed stare and you look away, arms crossing over your chest. Namjoon continues under your silence. “Did you know that in a moment of weakness, you let your mask fall? Did you really think I’d continue believing you so easily? After that act you played and went into madness?”

You ball your hand into a fist, ready to cut back. “I—”

“You didn’t kill Jungwon, but you know exactly who did it.” Those eyes of his, when you look at them, dares for you to refute the claim he just made and it brings a shiver down your spine. He’s never been one to play around, rarely cracks jokes, is always aloof, and has that resting glare on his face. Perhaps you shouldn’t have chanted those words so much you brought yourself into madness.

It was your fault your mask fell.

“And until you’re willing to tell me, I won’t accept your deal in wanting to cut Bangtan off your allied forces.”

You frown at his proposition, confused. “Wha—”

“You need me, Y/N,” he cuts you off, getting straight to the point and you sit there, simply staring with a dumbfounded expression. “I have more power and influence than the Reapers do. I have ways to get dirt over anyone and I have connections. That’s why you approached me in the first place; because you needed to use my power. I will continue to give you that. I’ll allow you to use me. And when you’re done using me, you can throw me out after giving me the truth to who killed Jungwon.”

Seokjin, who had stood beside Yoongi this whole time, slides a paper over to you and when you look at it, you realize it’s a contract. A new one.

You only have to glance at it for a brief moment to understand the words that are written there. “You’re giving me quite the advantage, Namjoon.”

Total control to be able to use him whenever, as long as you’re able to provide him information on his brother’s death once you are done with him. In translation: he was allowing you to treat him as a pawn.

“You know all I want is the truth about my brother, and you’re the only one who can provide me with that.”

The last person to have seen Kim Jungwon. The only person besides Namjoon to have been close to him.

You raise a brow his way, suspicious. “All for some information, you’re willing to become my pawn.”

“You believed I had treated you as such all those years ago, would it not be fair?”

He doesn’t say it straight out but you know just what he’s trying to imply. You were once a pawn in the chess game he played with your father, used as a leverage, and free to ask anything of you. And being the sort of person that you were all those years ago, you could never say no to what Namjoon asked of you. Three years passed, he grew tired of you, and discarded you to be eaten up by the enemy.

This is, in unspoken words, his apology.

You take the pen from the table to scribble out your signature before standing up to walk out without another word.

Though you pause right before you can open the door, turn a step around to address Yoongi, giving him a small bow. “Thank you.” And walk out.

Yoongi’s way of apology meant a lot more. You don’t want some discreet way of apology, you don’t want to play fire with fire even though that had been your intention from the very beginning. But even then, it was never your intention to take revenge back on Namjoon just to use him as a pawn.

It’s not what you want.

You want him begging on his knees the way you had done. You want him begging you for forgiveness and actually mean it.

You can accept Yoongi’s apology. You won’t forgive him yet but you can accept it. He stepped up when you were on the verge of death, stood in front of a blade, and had his own eye blinded. He then picked both you and Sunoo up in his arms and took revenge back on the Vipers, successfully killing them off in one go. And with the little trust you gave him in your moment of weakness, he kept his word and warded off anyone that tried to get close to you.

The Reapers were contacted, rushed to your side, and took care of you.

In the beginning, Yoongi was just a victim who had to fall prey into making a decision he hadn’t wanted to make.

Kim Namjoon’s taking a step but he’s still lightyears away from forgiveness.

Feelings cannot be forced, feelings are something you will not blame him for, but because he lied to you and betrayed your trust, you know you won’t let him off easily.

💜💜💜

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.

💜💜💜

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.

💜💜💜

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 1

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Keep reading

💜💜💜

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 2

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Keep reading

💜💜💜

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 3

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Keep reading

GANGSTA | myg - 002

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni

word count: 3K

author’s note: sorry if you asked to be on the taglist and didn’t make it. i’ve reached over 50 and couldn’t add anymore people. i’ll add more of you in the comments.

“I’m glad you’re okay after all of that,” Jungkook says on the other end of your phone; you had just spilled about the chaotic situation at Makoto as it was still weighing heavily on your mind. You couldn’t shake what Jimin had said about that Yoongi guy killing someone, though it could have just been a rumor. If he had actually taken someone’s life there would be no way they would allow him to walk the streets. He’d be too much of a flight risk.

“You should really be careful in the future. I know you like to stand up for people that can’t stand up for themselves, but Yoongi is bad news. There’s no telling what he would’ve done to you on the wrong day.”

“So you know him too?” You quiz. It seemed as though everyone knew who this guy was besides you. Maybe you don’t get out enough. Or maybe you were just good at staying away from trouble– until this afternoon at least. “I know of him, but not personally. He came to the shop once like five months ago with the same tall guy you were talking about. He told my coworker Si-Woo to step outside, and the next thing you know he's pistol-whipping him nearly to death. Rumor around the shop was that Si-Woo sold drugs for Yoongi, and owed him a lot of money.”

“Really?” Your mouth drops in shock. “What did Si-Woo say about it?”

“He never talked about it, ended up quitting the next day, and told us ‘not to get the police involved because it wouldn’t be of any help and it was all just a misunderstanding’.” He quoted. “Well, three days later Si-Woo’s body was found hacked to pieces and stuffed in a suitcase behind an alley on Gongdan lane.”

You heard about that case on the news some time ago, but had no clue that Jungkook knew the victim on an intimate level. It honestly made you shiver a bit. Imagine being the one to discover the body, and how gruesome the sight must have been. Stuff like that was common in slum areas though. Crime was especially high in Gongdan lane of all places, which is why you made sure to never venture in that area. “You think Yoongi had something to do with his murder?”

Jungkook scoffed. “The guy was viciously pistol-whipping him three days before his body was identified. I know he had something to do with it, but none of us were willing to risk going to the cops, so we just moved on like it didn’t happen.” Jungkook pauses for a moment before he speaks again. “You know… sometimes I think that maybe we could’ve saved his life if we did report the incident. Sometimes I still look at his station and feel like he’s there, tattooing.” He sighs heavily, like it was a great weight lifted from his shoulders to even tell you.

“You did what you felt was necessary. As fucked up as it may seem, you had to think about what was best for you.” You try your best to comfort him as he seemed to hold on to a lot of guilt regarding Si-Woo’s death, and reminiscing didn’t help. To have the man who could have potentially murdered your friend roaming free to terrorize all of Daegu couldn’t be a great feeling. You felt for him.

“I know. It’s just fucked to know he went through such a fucked up death. I don’t even want to imagine how scared he must’ve been,” you could hear clanking on the other end, as though he was biting down on his lip piercing. “I don’t even like the thought of knowing you tangled with them. He seems the type to hold grudges, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’d lose my shit and go after him myself.”

You smile softly. “And I just know you’d kick his ass, my tough Kookie.” You both laugh at the nickname, which is one of many you had with the word ‘cookie’ in it. You could be so cheesy sometimes, but Jungkook loved everything about it. “You don’t have to worry though, apparently he likes me so maybe I’m in the clear?” You say unsuringly, still not understanding what he meant by it. It was very abrupt and cryptic. “Well whatever he meant, he’s out of luck because you’re spoken for.”

“As if he’d ever had a chance to begin with, I don’t think I’d mesh well with a criminal,” You chuckled. “I’m more into sweet, sensitive guys with tattoos and piercings.”

“Yeah? I think I know someone like that.” You could tell that he’s cheesing on the other end, which made you cheese. Everything always felt so natural with Jungkook. Him being your best friend in high school really played hand in hand with that. He was no different from a lover than he was a best friend. You two were absolutely the same and you loved it.

“You should probably get some sleep now, Angel. You don’t want to go to work exhausted, and I don’t wanna be blamed for you oversleeping again.” You simply roll your eyes in a playful manner, but agree nonetheless. You couldn’t chance being up so late, Mr. Kim was very strict about being on time.

“I guess you’re right,” you pout. “Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I get off work.”

“Okay, Angel. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kookie cake.” You pull your phone from your ear, ending the call before you get up from your bed to switch off your bedroom lights. You crawl back onto the mattress, pulling your blanket over your body. Picking your phone back up again, you swipe through your apps until you locate the clock app. You set your alarm to wake you up at 12:00 PM on the dot. Just as you were about to place your phone down on your nightstand, something overcame you and you got the urge to search Yoongi’s name on Google.

When you type in his name, you are shocked to see so many results come up effortlessly. Several different mugshots from several different instances, all dating from when he was a teenager to one that seemed recent. You click on the one that looks most recent, letting it redirect you to the Daegu booking website.

Name: Min Yoongi

Age: 30

BOOKING DETAIL

Status: Released

Building: Public Safety Building

Area: Maledorm

Booking number: 575857

Booking date: 3/26/2023 11:56:00 pm

ARRESTS

Arrest number: 680071205

Arrest date: 3/26/2023 10:06:00 pm

Arresting agency: Daegu Police Department

Agency case number: 25-18056

ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON

ATTEMPTED FIRST-DEGREE MURDER

POSSESSION WITH INTENT TO SELL

You read over the arrests in shock, completely dumbfounded by how a man of his caliber could be released from jail and not behind bars rotting for the rest of his life. He practically lived in jail anyway, why not just keep him there? You eye his mugshot, his intense stare giving you the chills. You didn’t need to wonder how the officer taking the photo must’ve felt considering you too have felt those daggers looking into the depths of your soul.

You pull your sight away from the photo, swiping away the page. You didn’t want to spend any more time on Yoongi. What happened at Makoto is behind you now. You just wanted to forget about the situation, and never run into Yoongi– or Joon for that matter, again. You plug your phone to your charger, sitting the device on your nightstand before you drift off to sleep.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” Mr. Kim looks surprised as you step into the kitchen, taking an apron from the hook on the wall. “Why wouldn’t I show up?” You quirk a brow, tying the black fabric around your waist. “Because I thought you would’ve been too scared to show your face after going toe to toe with the devil’s minions the other day.”

You click your tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t believe people were still on that. Just as you walked in you overheard a customer whispering ‘she’s still alive?’ to her friend. It’s absurd at this point. “I think everyone is blowing what happened yesterday way out of proportion.” You shake your head, grabbing a notepad and pen from the pencil holder.

“I’d like to say we are, kid, but you got lucky. That Yoongi is no joke to be played with. The guy is a menace. Some people say the only reason he’s not in jail is because he has affiliations within the police unit, and I wouldn’t doubt if it’s true. Our system is corrupt.” The older man sighs. ‘Oh great, here he goes with politics and corruption again…’ you thought. You had better get out on the floor before you’re caught in a whirlwind of it.

You leave him to discuss the topic with himself as you step out onto the floor, and start taking customer orders. “Hey, you’re that crazy girl from yesterday.” A man says as you approach his table. You frown, already knowing what he was referring to, so you avoid it at all cost. “What can I get you?” You redirect the conversation.

“Oh! Uhhh,” he picks up the menu from his table, skimming through it. “I’ll have the Jajangmyeon.” He answers quickly. You scribble down his order. “Anything to drink?” You ask. “Ginseng tea, thank you.” He places the menu back on the table. You nod, taking down his drink. “Okay, I’ll be right back with that tea.” You smile kindly before heading back to the kitchen. You rip the orders from the notepad, clipping them to the ticket holder.

“Hey, kid. We’ve got a delivery order for dumplings.” Mr. Kim informs you as you’re preparing tea for the customer. The older gentleman approaches you, the order already made and secured in a brown bag. You take the bag from him, looking at the order ticket attached to it.

As you read over the address on the ticket, your eyes practically bulge out of your skull. ‘2357 Gongdan Lane’. “Um… Mr. Kim, this location is in the slums of Daegu.” You look at him with concern. “I know.” The man simply nods, taking the tickets you set from the holder. “Yeah, well, I can’t go to Gongdan lane. It’s dangerous, especially for me as a woman.”

“Look kid, I’m sorry. If Jimin was here I’d have him go but he doesn’t work on Saturdays and you’re my only worker.”

“Exactly. I’m the only worker, you need me to be at the shop taking orders.” You knew that wasn’t going to go over as it was a slow day, and there were hardly any customers in the shop to begin with. “I can handle the customers and cook the ramen until you get back.”

You couldn’t believe this. Just as you had prided yourself in never stepping foot in Gongdan, here was this old dirty bastard making you go. On top of that, the restaurant didn’t even own a company car for deliveries so you had to ride a bike. You read over the ticket again, noticing that there wasn’t even a name on the order. “There’s no name on the order, this could be a trick that ends with me getting robbed for free food.”

“All this time wasted on talking about it could be used on getting the delivery done. Stop complaining and do what you’re paid to do. The faster you get it done, the faster you can come back.”

You wanted to stomp your foot like a child and continue to protest, but you couldn’t risk your job by not listening so you did the only sensible thing you could do. Your job. You grab a plastic bag, shoving the brown one inside of it before leaving through the back exit in the kitchen. You spot the red delivery bike lying on the ground, and pick it up, looping the plastic bag around the bike handle.

As you mount the bicycle, you pull out your phone to use your GPS. The ride was about 12 minutes away. If you ride fast you could undoubtedly make it at least an 8 minute ride. You kick back the breaks and set off on your journey. During the ride as you make it into the slum area, you could truly see the separation from Sangsu-dong to Gongdan lane. The sidewalks were cracked and unpaved, the buildings looked more rundown, and homeless people laid out in sleeping bags.

You got an uneasy feeling as you noticed a group of men smoking weed on a corner and intensely watching you go by. You probably stood out like a sore thumb, riding through Daegu’s slummiest on a red bike. You swallowed the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes forward as you paid them no mind. As you continue going, you notice the streets become more isolated. Your GPS directs you to turn, which you follow only to come upon a big warehouse that looked abandoned. ‘You’ve arrived’, your GPS says. You furrow your brows, confusion written over your face.

“Stupid thing must’ve sent me to the wrong location.” You grab the bag of dumplings from the bike handle, circling around the warehouse just in case you were mistaken. You find a door on the other end, cameras surrounding it like it was a government building. You inspect the door, seeing that there was a red button of some sort on it.

You scope the perimeter, making sure no one was trying to sneak attack you. The whole thing seemed completely sketchy. You take a deep breath before pressing down on the button, a loud buzz coming from it. You take a step back, waiting for someone to come open the door. You stood there for about two minutes, not wanting to wait around any longer. You knew this was a scam. You should’ve just gone home and pretended like you delivered the food. It would’ve saved you the trouble. As you turn to walk back to the bike, the door suddenly opens with a loud creaking sound.

You direct your attention back to the door, locking eyes with an individual that you dreaded to ever see again. “Oh my god… i-it’s you…” you stutter in shock, seeing Yoongi stand in the doorway with a smirk plastered on his face. “Wonder Woman, we meet again.”

You’re silent, not really saying a word as you feel too stunned to speak. “You got something for me, sweetheart?” His eyes darted to the bag in your hand. You snap from your fearful trance, remembering why you were there in the first place. “Uh… yeah. Here’s your order.” You stretch out your arm to hand him the bag, not wanting to come any closer. The raven reaches forward, his hand brushing yours as he takes the bag from you. You quickly turn away, rushing back over to your bike.

“Hey, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself yesterday.” He says, following behind you. “I already know who you are.” You mumble as you mount the red two wheeler. “Really? You didn’t seem to know who I was yesterday. If you did, you wouldn’t have shot your pretty mouth off like that,”

He grabs the handles of your bike, preventing you from leaving. “You look scared. Guess my reputation precedes me.” He says almost too proudly. “Not in a way that a decent human being should want it to, but I guess decency isn’t what you’re aiming for.” you say slickly, which causes the raven to smile. “There goes that smart mouth again,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, giving you the same predatory stare from yesterday. “Normally I wouldn’t tolerate anyone getting slick at the mouth with me, but from you it’s kind of a turn on.”

You scowl, ignoring his sexual advance. “Can you let go of my bike? I need to get back to work.”

“How about you let me drive you?” he offers, but you quickly decline. You’d be an idiot to get in the car with a proclaimed murderer. “I’ll take my chances on the bike, thank you.” The raven lets go of the handles, taking a step back to allow you to be on your way. “Be my guest, sweetheart.”

You kick back the break, not wanting to waste any more of your time in Gongdan speaking to this thug. You back away from him, turning the bike to ride down the path you came. “I hope to see you again, Y/N.” He calls out. You come to an abrupt stop, looking back at the raven. How did he know your name? “I don’t remember telling you my name.”

“You didn’t need to. I have my sources and connections, Princess. Whatever I need or want, I get.”

You cringe at the nickname ‘princess’. Jungkook doesn’t even call you that, with all the cheesy nicknames he does use. Him knowing your name suddenly made you question how coincidental this whole encounter was. You were starting to wonder how much about you he knew. As if he read your mind, he starts to read you like an autobiography. “You were born in Busan and raised right here in Daegu, you’re an ex nursing student, an only child, both your parents passed away in a tragic car accident, your best friend is Sang Mina, and your boyfriend is… Jeon Jungkook? Am I right?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as he spoke information that only people close to you would know. You felt sick, creeped out even, but you tried not to display that on your face. “So, I guess you know my work schedule then. You set this little encounter up knowing that I was the only worker today, didn’t you?” the raven simply shrugged like he couldn’t answer whether that was true or not, but you knew that it was. “I don’t know what your deal is, but just stay away from me, okay?”

Yoongi sneered, as he turned on his heels, heading back to the door from once he came. The raven makes sure he gets the last word though.

“I can’t make you any promises, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever I want, I get.”

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