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missfluffywriter · 4 years

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Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Ooof it’s finally out. That took way longer than I expected. And I’ll be breaking this chapter into two pieces. I hope you don’t mind. I have to say I did a lot more research than I thought I would, just to say but everything I’ve written are pretty accurate, emphasis on pretty. Of course not everything, and I can never really be sure of the medical stuff, cuz you know I’m not a doctor. lolol. Well, that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 10.9k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, mention of drugs, inconsistant grammar lol

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist I Requests are open!

“If I hadn’t sent (Y/n) when I did, your boss would be six feet under right now,”

Nearly three days had passed since the ball and yet Soomin’s toneless voice continued echoing through your head. Ricocheting from one corner of your mind to another, there were instances where the voice would dull to a soft whisper but never was it gone, not for an instant. Her words ring in your head yet you don’t know why. You were not angry with her, not at all; as a matter of fact, you felt no such anger or animosity towards your former boss. Neither did you feel betrayal or despair.

Originally you thought you felt nothing towards the situation, but that wasn’t exactly correct. What you had truly felt was apprehension, you did not understand a situation you were brought into or the reason behind your arrival. Was there a reason as to why you were forced into this world? Was there a role you were meant to play in Ji-Eun Duri’s game? Were you brought into this to serve a purpose? And if you were, then what about after that purpose has been fulfilled? What then? And if you weren’t, then why were you here?

There were more questions than answers, and every time you thought you were close to an answer, more questions arose. You weren’t used to this, more questions than answers; usually, you would at least have some semblance of understanding of what you were getting into, but this? You had nothing. You didn’t like the feeling of being left in the dark, and you absolutely despised the episodes of hopelessness that seared through your chest. Like you couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have enough information to take either defensive or offensive action.

However, the negatives aside, you also couldn’t deny the buzz in your system. A low hum of excitement, like expecting the unexpected, similar to a game of tag played in a sea of darkness. And though you had your bouts of helplessness and self-doubt, those thoughts only worked to fuel your imagination, your instinct for survival, and your drive to win. When you felt helpless your mind would create a thousand different scenarios, predicting the flow and outcome of each one. Thus, creating a skeleton of a plan so if the scenario should occur, you had some idea of your future movements.

And when you felt self-doubt you would think up back-up plans to any what-ifs that came to mind. If you were feeling uncertain of any of your plans or ideas you would test as many scenarios that would come to mind, asking others for their input regularly; what would they have done? Why would they have done what they did? Was there a better way to achieve what they were planning or warning for?

You would spend the time restlessness took hold to prepare for whatever future that may come. Because that was all you could do, prepare, and prepare the best you could. Besides, you felt a bizarre sense of gratitude towards the female responsible for your current predicament. If it weren’t for her you would have never been involved in this dangerous world, but above that, you would have never met Jimin or Jin, or Jeongguk, or any of these wonderful people. Apart from that, what Soomin had said was correct, if you hadn’t shown up when you did, Jimin wouldn’t be alive today. And thinking of a world where Jimin didn’t exist wasn’t at the top of your to-think list.

So while you didn’t appreciate the negative feelings brought on by the situation, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, but, what’s the difference between sutures, stitches, and staples?” Jin questioned; his ebony locks slipping onto his chestnut orbs as his head tilted in a query. His voice, sharpened by confusion, breaks you from thoughts.

“Technically speaking, all three are used for the same purpose, to close wounds or surgical incisions, but they aren’t the same,” You explain; setting the silver needle forceps onto the medical tray while smoothly covering that fact that you had barely caught the words of the ravenette.

“For sutures, doctors use a thread or strand of material to perform wound closure. The term "stitches" refers to the surgical procedure or process of closing a wound with sutures. Staples on the other hand are another material that doctors sometimes use to make sutures or stitches.”

“Hm, I think I get it,” He did not get it. The confusion muddling his expression was as clear as day. This was a tricky subject, even you had trouble completely grasping the concept correctly. But he had barely begun learning of sutures and stitches, he had ample time to understand the material. Although he had progressed much faster than you had imagined, granted you weren’t exactly going in order by chapter.

You decided it would be best to teach him things he was more likely to need once he had a basic understanding of bacteria, pathogens, and such. You could move to the actual medicinal and chemical aspects once he has the basic skills he could need out on the job. Though symptom recognition and diagnosis are a part of the current lesson plan, for the moment it is a lesser matter.

“Do you know the different kinds of threads for status and stitches?” You ask the older male, testing the knowledge he was supposed to have studied the night before.

“There’s absorbable and nonabsorbable,” Thoughtfully he recites the information he had learned. “Absorbable sutures are intended to be broken down by the body over time and eventually dissolve completely. Some materials used to make absorbable sutures are derived from animal products that have been specially processed. Other absorbable sutures are made from synthetic polymer materials such as polylactic acid to make Vicryl, polyglycolic acid for Dexon, polyglyconate makes Maxon, and polydioxanone for PDS. And then there are non-absorbable sutures that are permanent and have to be removed. These sutures can be made from nylon, polypropylene which makes the prolene thread, or silk.”

“Good一very good,” You praise, eyes fluttering as you listen to the older male recite the passage from your old textbook word for word. Had he really memorized all that in a single night? If he had legitimately chosen this as a career path, you were sure he certainly would have gone far.

“So, do you have any questions before we move on?” You ask, a pleased smile curved onto your lips as you move to lay the ground world for the next lesson.

“Yeah,” Bobbing his head, the chestnut eyed male continued, “Why do doctors still use permanent threads if we already have dissolvable threads? Wouldn’t it just be easier to use the adorable ones? Since then the patient wouldn’t have to return to get the sutures removed,”

“Ah, that’s a really good question,” You exalted, hands coming together in a prayer position. “Well you see, permanent or nonabsorbable sutures are sometimes preferred because they are resistant to the body’s chemicals that might otherwise dissolve the sutures too early in the healing process. Non-absorbable sutures are useful for maintaining long-term tissue wound closure and healing,” You explain, reaching for the text-book that had been forgotten at the end of the surgery table.

“Oh, I see,” Seokjin hums, his forefinger and thumb on his chin as his thumb rubs the underside of his chin. “So permanent threads are still very useful too,”

“Yes very much so,” Nodding, you affirmed.

“So any other questions?” Flipping through the smooth pages of the text-book, you pause on the pages lesson twenty-four, “Sutures and Stitches”.

Shaking his head side to side, he signals for you to continue with the lecture.

“Okay, so today we learned the Mattress stitch and the continuous stitch,” You listed the day’s practice. “With that, you should be able to handle minor lacerations or cuts,”

“But,” You continue, “I want you to keep practicing on the suturing pad and study about those stitches, you may know how to do them, you still don’t know how to do them correctly,”

“And tomorrow we’ll get into the subcuticular stitch and look over some other stitches too, but一 yeah, that's it. And we’ll get more into staples in a few days. Tonight’s homework is just to study about the sutures,” You concluded, your gaze lifting to the brand new clock hanging on the wall. ‘Good, right on time,’

“(Y/n)?” Came the familiar low yet soft voice. Turning your body to face the white-blond leaning against the agape door frame.

“Yeah, let’s go,” You call, easing away from the operating table, you make your way to the other mafioso. But your attention is paged back in towards the room.

“Wait, (Y/n),” Humming in response you briefly angle yourself to the ravanette standing by the table, “Can I write in your book?” Shifting from one foot to another, he asks, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. “It just gets a lot when I have to copy everything down,”

“Sure! Go ahead,” Beaming at the male you answer his silly question. It was his book now, he could do whatever he wanted on it. “That book is yours now, you can mark and write on it as much as you want,” Giving him a gentle smile, you reassure him.

“Thank you, and good luck in training” A sheepish grin curling onto his lips, Jin gives you a double thumbs up.

“You’re gonna need it,” The white-blond behind you scoffs as you make your way to the door.

“Oh hush you,” Half-heartedly slapping the mafioso on the chest, you bustle out the medical room - a compromise you came to between the doctor's office and operation room. As it turned out Jeongguk was not very fond or aware of the new name for the tiled room. He argued it be called what it had been called for as long as it had existed. Which was the “Doctor’s room” and though it was a very endearing term, it wasn’t exactly correct, nor was it very professional. Besides, OR sounded cooler.

And so you compromised, the name would have aspects you both had wanted, and thus the operation room was newly dubbed as the medical room. The new name contained factors you both liked, all in all, it was a happy arrangement.

“Alright, which one do you think we should do today?” Yoongi’s voice brings you back from your flashback of the great compromise.

“You’re asking me?” Pressing your hand to your hips, sarcasm bleeds from your words as your (e/c) orbs scan over the cloud-grey wall decked out with every gun or rifle one could imagine. Then drifting to the black metal drawers that were about waist height sitting under the gun mounts.

His eyes move in a semi-roll, before humming thoughtfully he picks up a solid black handgun from the wall adjacent to the one your sight had been fixed on.

Since the days after the gala fiasco, Hoseok had given the clear for you to begin your firearms training. You still had daily hand-to-hand combat training with either Hoseok or Jeongguk

“We practiced with a single-action for the past two days,” He speaks his thoughts as he examines the weapon in his hand before his slender digits trace a silver-black gun resting on the metal holders. “Yeah, maybe we’ll have you practice with a double-action today,”

“A double-action?” You parroted, forehead scrunching at the foreign vocabulary terms.

“Well, maybe not. It would probably be safer for a beginner to use a double-action until you’re used to all safety procedures,” Yoongi continues, oblivious to the query lacing your words.

“Wait, wait, what do you mean double-action一single action?” Voicing your question, you head involuntarily leaning to your right as you did.

Moments pass as he blankly stares at you, his eyelids fluttering open and close as he processes your words. “Didn’t we go over that when we started?” He asks, frown lines setting on his pale face folds in confusion.

“No,” Shaking your head side to side as his own expression transforms into one of surprise.

“Did we talk about how a gun works or anything like that?” Emphasizing the ‘anything’ he asked.

“Nope,” You return popping the ‘p’ as your shoulders rise into a shrug. “You kinda just gave me a gun, showed me how to use it, then we fired a buncha times,” Thoughtfully you review the events of the last two training sessions.

Yoongi’s face contorts in disbelief before his eyebrows lifted, his mouth opening as his own memories of the last sessions. “I should explain all that shouldn’t I?” Sheepishly rubbing the scruff of his neck, he jested.

“Probably,” You return with a soft chuckle.

“Right,” He grinned, beginning his explanation, “Well you see when you pull the slide of the handgun back, it allows for the magazine spring to push a bullet into the chamber. It also cocks the hammer of the gun back,”

His statement only caused your expression to rumple further as he once again used terms you were not familiar with. What did the word hammer have to do with guns? “What’s a hammer?”

“The hammer is a part of a gun that is used to strike the percussion cap or primer, or a separate firing pin, to light the propellant and fire the projectile. It is so-called that because it looks like a hammer and kinda works like one too, here, look,” Waving you closer he showed you the tail of the gun, pointing to the little lever-like bump that sat at the end of the gun.

“A cap?” You question; did he not understand that you were a beginner and that you hadn’t even seen let alone touched a gun before you had met them, or did he assume you knew your way around firearms after the way you spoke in the Matsuuru deal. It may have sounded like you knew what you were talking about, but you really didn’t, you were simply reciting the list of words Namjoon had shown you.

“It’s called a percussion cap or just cap for short, and some people even call it a primer. It’s basically a thin metal cup that contains a small amount of pressure-sensitive explosive, often mercury fulminate. And when crushed, the explosive detonates, sending a stream of hot gas down through a hole in the nipple and into the touchhole of the gun to ignite the powder charge.” He tried his hardest to settle his annoyance at your thousand questions

“Powder charge?” Another query falls from your lips.

“Gunpowder,” He curtly simplifies.

“Then, when you pull the trigger of the gun, it causes the hammer to snap forward, which pushes the firing pin inside the gun into the primer of the bullet cartridge. When the firing pin strikes the primer, it ignites the propellant or gunpowder that will send the bullet flying down the barrel at a high rate of speed,” He finally finishes without your interruptions. “That is basically how a hammer-fired gun works,”

“I think I get it,” Thoughtfully, you hum, stepping through the door at the end of the room, into the actual gun range. Then realizing he Yoongi had just used another term you did not understand. “Wait, hammer-fired?”

A deep exhale leaves his lips, he does not have the patience nor energy to explain hammer-fired and striker-fired on top of double-action and single-action. “Ah, well you see there are hammer-fired guns or striker-fired guns, a Glock is a striker-fired gun, but we’ll get into all that stuff some other time. For now, how about we just focus on the actions,”

“Okay so, the gun you were using yesterday was a single action, meaning you pull back the handle slide of the gun to cock it, then you pull the trigger to fire the bullet,” Alluding you with the simplest words he could think of, making sure to avoid any other firearms-related terms and words. “A double-action is when the cocking of the hammer and the firing of the gun both happen as you pull the trigger,”

“So we’re working with a double-action today?”

“Yeah, let’s get you used to double-actions. In the long run, I think it’d be safer for you to have a double,” He concluded, pulling out the magazine of the charcoal-colored gun in his grasp. Before cruising back to the room with the guns, walking to the farthest drawers sitting underneath the gun mounts, replacing the magazine with a new one.

“Do you have your earplugs?” The white-blond asked, his eyes flickering to you from the weapon in his hand.

Nodding, you wordlessly respond to the male’s question. Digging through the pockets of your hoodie, you hold out a sable-black box that was about the size of your palm.

“Good, always keep them on you,” His head bobs in approval as he hands you the newly loaded gun along with a set of large headphones. “But for now, use these”

The weapon sits heavy on your free palm. Saliva pooled in your mouth as you carefully held the gun - forefinger away from the trigger - you daintily pocketed the black box. “What gun is this?” You questioned, feeling a tingling sensation run underneath the skin of your palms, sweat gathering on them as your fingers tentatively brushed the body of the firearm.

“It’s a double-action Tanfoglio EAA Witness,” A swift reply leaves his lips “Alright, now what are the rules I gave you?”

“Trigger finger off at all times unless I’m ready to shoot,” Your answer is immediate, having had the core rule drilled into you for two consecutive days.

“Good, next,”

Your mouth moved to sound the correct answer, but you pause, instead deciding to reply with the lesson you had learned the hard way. “Don’t touch the barrel or muzzle after it fires,” Grumbling out the words, you grimace as your brain replays the incident that occurred a day prior.

Being the novice to weapons that you were, you didn’t realize just how hot the gun could get. Normally one would think it common sense that the temperature of the gun’s barrel and muzzle exponential rise, seeing as a mini-explosion takes place within the barrel for the bullet to exit the weapon. But at that instant, all rhyme or reason had left you, and you had the magnificent idea to hold the gun by the head. Which ended with you accidentally touching the muzzle area, a minor burn, and a life lesson.

“I see someone’s learned her lesson,” Yoongi chuckles, exhorting you to continue. “Next,”

“Never point the gun at anything unless I intend to destroy it,” You list.

“Good, now do you have a lock on your target?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Put on your headphones and shoot whenever you’re ready, take your time to aim each turn,” The mafioso instructs, gesturing to the noise-canceling headphones in your hand.

Following his directions, you place the cushions of the large headphone over your ears, adjusting them to fit your skull, then taking your stance.

Your heart heavily thudding in your chest, you take deep breaths, trying to calm the throbbing of your pulse that translated into your hand, making them shaky. Your first breath comes out ragged and choppy, but the exhales that follow pacify the palpitation ringing through your body, smoothing the flow or circulation.

Once your body had steadied, you moved into the weaver stance. Feet planted slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, placing the foot correlating with your dominant hand a half-step behind your non-dominant foot. A soft bend in your knees, leaning slightly forward, bracing yourself for the backlash of the shot.

Continuing your focused breathing you aim the point of the gun at the paper human target, you intently watch as the gun bobbed up and down with the cadence of your breaths. Your expression relaxes as your vision focuses on the target nearly twenty yards from where you stood. ‘Never aim for the head, the target’s too small. Always aim for the chest,’ Yoongi’s words echo in your head as you shift to aim for the center of the chest, where the heart would have been.

On your next inhale you solidify your aim, tightening your grip on the weapon, squeezing the trigger as you exhaled. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter you inch closer to the end of the pull, increasing the pressure on the trigger. And at the trough of your exhale the curve of the trigger meets its end.

The powerful push of the gun drives your body backwards, your bent knees, and the forward lean absorbing the shock, keeping you in place. The impact of the bullet firing rippling throughout your body. You felt a slight tremble in your hands, a hum of the aftershock. You hold on the grip constricts, eyes narrowing on the result of the shot as you bite back the disappointment of missing your mark. The bullet had landed below the right shoulder, much farther than your marked target.

Keeping your breathing as stagnant as you could, you refocus your aim. The same spot as earlier, this time you adjusted your aim, a touch lower, and a smudged to the left. Then squeeze the trigger again. And though the bullet doesn’t land on the intended destination, it is just a tad closer, the bullet having ended on the mid-chest area, right on the line of your designated mark.

The process of shooting and adjustment continued as you build experience and feel for the weapon. The cycle continued for the entirety of the time Yoongi trained you, pausing only to give you pointers or to reload the magazine - which you did on your own - Yoongi had shown you how to replace a magazine the day before and you had been replacing the cartridge on your own ever since.

And as the operation flowed you noticed that the gun you were working with today was much smoother and easier to use than the one you had been training with previously. The elongated trigger time caused by the heaviness of the pull gave you a chance to readjust your aim or even reconsider your decision to shoot altogether. You liked that added time frame to think about your decision and finalize your aim. But that also may have been a drawback as the longer fire time may give the other person to counter or even shoot before you had the chance to.

Nonetheless, if you were able to choose the gun you would have, then you would most certainly ask for this one. The body was sleek and clean, the modern designs pleasing to the eye, and above that, the feel of the gun was marvelous. Not that you knew many guns or their feels, but this one just felt right. It fit perfectly in your palm, and the grip was comfortable, almost natural.

By the time Yoongi had called the end of this session, you had burned through three fourteen plus one magazines. For a total of forty-five bullets used.

Huffing out an exhausted exhale, you place the gun on the table-like area that was separated into a booth-like space by walls of wood. You jerk your hands in a flicking motion in an attempt to ease away the pounding in palms. Your hands flushed a vibrant red and a little numb from the continuous shooting. You remove the headphones protecting your hearing before stretching your limbs, easing them into a more relaxed state.

“Good job today, you’re improving really fast,” Yoongi praises, taking the gun you had put down, returning it to its mount on the grey wall. Humming a soft ‘thank you’, you lean against the table-like space in between the separators.

“Hey, so does this mean I get my own gun or something?” You ask the older male, curious as to whether you were actually getting a weapon or if this was just training to prepare for a situation.

“You will,” The white-blond cruises into the shooting range, hands in the pockets of his slacks. “But first you need to try a bunch of them to see what you are comfortable with and can actually use outside of practice.”

“Can I have that one?” You head tilts upward to gesture to the gun he had just put away.

“The one you were using?” You nod at his question. Sure it was true you needed to build more experience and try out more guns to see what worked best with you, but you just felt a pull towards the one you were using.

“Yeah,”

“A tanfoglio witness, huh?” A familiar silvery voice resounded throughout the room. “I think it suits you, beautiful and efficient,” Jimin muses, coasted over to where you stood, wrapping his arms around your waist when close enough.

Giggling at his corny statement, you nuzzle into Jimin’s neck, arms coming to rest around his thin waist, purring at the warmth of his delicately comforting embrace.

“What’re you doing here?” You mumble into the exposed skin of his neck, basking in the sunny feeling of his grasp around your body.

“Getting the two of you for the meeting,” Answering softly, he places a caste kiss on your forehead.

“You’re here to get us?” Scoffing a laugh, you part from the silver-blond just enough to meet his eyes.

“And?” A questioning brow raises on his face as eyes you, a smile curling onto his lips. “You gotta problem?”

“You guys are sickening,” Yoongi wretches at the disturbingly cute moment unfolding before him. However, despite his outward expression, he was truly happy for his boss. The white-blond couldn’t properly recall the last time the don had laughed so freely, enjoyed the minor things in life, like a cup of tea or just a slow day. For the longest time, the young mafioso had been focused solely on the jobs neglecting even himself and his own health, on top of that Jimin was fierce一 short-tempered, denying any help or counseling the other core members provided. So having you hound him for skipping meals or being careless with his health and Jimin actually being rendered completely helpless to your care and affection, was a delightful change of pace. Besides, Jimin was Yoongi’s brother just as much as he was the white-blond’s boss.

“Sickeningly adorable,” You correct the older mafioso with a blinding grin as Jimin chuckles into your locks.

“But seriously, the meeting’s about to start,” The mafia don tugs you by your waist. Leading you out of the shooting range and back into the lavish mansion. Yoongi exited before the two of you, not intending on being trapped behind two mush balls, especially with one of them Jimin melting by the minute.

“How’s Shelty doing?” You question, falling into an easy pace with Jimin beside you, still holding onto your hip. Having not seen your precious puppy since morning as you had left her with Jimin.

“Guk may be having a bit too much fun with her,” The silver-blond answers, a sigh following his statement. He was forced to leave the wolf-dog in the care of the younger as you had forbidden your puppy from being anywhere near the gun range while guns were firing as the loud sounds would hurt her sensitive hearing. But, Jimin had wanted to personally fetch you for the meeting. And Namjoon and Jin were busy preparing for the meeting; Hoseok and Taegyung were out for a minor deal meeting; Yoongi was with you, so he had no choice but to leave the pupper with the youngest.

Which, now that he had a chance to really consider his decision, may not have been the best, Joengguk was responsible and mature most of the time, but most of the time there wasn’t an equally excited ball of floof jumping at him. It was like leaving two overzealous golden retrievers together… in a small room… alone.

“You know what? I think we should hurry up,” Jimin grumbles, increasing his pace to a brisk walk.

“What? Why?” Your eyelids flutter in confusion as you match his pace, dashed down the west wing corridors, and up the winding staircase of the main building.

“I left Shelty with Guk,” He groans, hoping all was intact in the cramped meeting room. You let out a joyful laugh as you realized the thoughts running through Jimin’s head.

His eyes playfully narrow as the silver-blond pulls into his grasp, tickling your sides as you a shrill of laughter and pleas from him to stop floods from your lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sheesh,” Wiping away the tears that had gathered on the edges of your eyes, you chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Besides its Jeongguk he’ll take great care of Shelty,”

“It’s not Shelty I’m worried about,” A sigh escapes his plump, cherry-pink lips and you couldn’t help but give those plush pillows a soft peck.

“Shelt’s housebroken, she won’t jump or chew on any furniture,” You reassure the male with another chaste kiss on the cheek.

“See,” Your gaze gesturing to a placid Shelty, contentful snuggled into the youngest brunette on the floor as the elevator doors opened. And Jimin heaves a breath, stepping towards his seat then lowering into the armchair, relieved that nothing was destroyed or damaged.

“Shelty, I’m here,” You call the seventy-pound puppy. Her ears immediately alert when he hears the voice of her favorite human. She bounds over to you as you take your seat on the velvet armchair to the left of Jimin. “Heyya girl,” Cooing at the wolf-dog, you kiss her head, massaging her scruff and running your fingers through her silky fur. “Did you miss me?”

Even though he had an absolute blast with Jimin and then the chocolate brunette, she missed you very much.

“Jin, Taehyung, and Hoseok will be here soon,” Namjoon declared, coming to stand beside Jimin’s right with a touch screen tablet in his hand. Jimin nods to the tall, syrup-brown haired mafioso.

“Hey, (Y/n) wasn’t late today,” Jin walks into the room, Taehyung and Hoseok on his tail. You throw the elder a sheepish grin, which he returns as each man takes their respective seat.

“Alright, let’s begin the meeting,” Once everyone is settled, Namjoon’s voice resounds as he took his place in Jimin’s right.

“First thing’s first, how did the deal with the Myo’s go?” Yoongi asks, eyeing the pair that had entered with Jin.

“They were able to get five mill together but they don’t have enough for the nine-millimeter parabellum magazines,” Taehyung says, leaning his weight onto the armrest.

“What was their order,” Jimin questions, his right leg crossing over his left.

“A thousand units of M4 carbines, two-thousand units of Glock 20s, two-thousand units of Glock 43s, and four thousand units of nine-millimeter parabellum cartridges,” Namjoon answers his gaze, flickering to the don, examining his docile expression.

“I’m assuming the M4 carbines and the Glock 20s are the most expensive out of the bunch,” You say thoughtfully, eyes shifting to Yoongi and Jimin to confirm your belief. The pair affirm your words with a nod of their head. “Okay, do we know why they need the guns?”

“They were caught in a turf war, so they’re stocking up on weapons,” The tallest is once again to answer the question. Did Namjoon know everything?

“Well if they’re running short on budget, I would suggest they cut down on the guns and instead stock up on bullets,” Patting Shelty’s soft head, you bring your feet up to your chest as you speak. “It’s not like they’re just going to throw away the gun once they use them, they’re gonna need way more bullets than actual guns. Besides guns become as useful as your tailbone if there are no bullets for them to fire,”

Confusion floods the expression on the beautiful faces of the men, aside from Jin, who chortled at your medical analogy. The faces of the six contorting further, not understanding what their elder found so funny.

“It’s a medical thing don’t worry about it,” Waving off the query in the faces of the men, you dismiss the situation.

“ I’ll make sure to pass that along to the Myo’s,” Taehyung breaks the very, very short silence that had fallen after your unsuccessful analogy.

“Alright next,” Nodding at the chestnut-haired male, Jimin carries on the meeting. “The meeting with Ji-Eun Duri,” His expression hardens as the men sit up straighter, some toying with their suit cuffs.

“The meeting will take place tomorrow at one of her safe houses, we were told to come with minimal personale just,”

“Come with minimal personale? Does she want this to be like a ceasefire signing or something?” Ji-Eun Duri was truly an enigma to you. Every time you think you felt as though you were close to figuring her out, she does something like this. Why not meet at the safety of her own space, her own territory? It wasn’t as though the location of her home was a mystery to you, to Bangtan to be more accurate. But still, what was she doing? What was she really up to?

“Tell me,” You call. “Ji-Eun Dure, what is she like? What’s her business? What does she do?” Firing a barrage of questions, you try to piece together the puzzle that was Ji-Eun Duri.

“She’s sharp and cunning,” Yoongi speaks, his gaze hardening into a glare. ‘Well duh,’ That much was clear, by the way, she held herself, the way she addressed others, her smarts and wit were as clear as the crystal-like turquoise waters of the Maldives.

“She runs one of the largest drug rings in Seoul, and she holds power over many of the mafia families,”

“Where does she get her drugs from?”

“She has her own farms around the world,” Namjoon answers. “But, Peru and Colombia are the main producers,”

‘Peru and Colombia, huh?’ Two of the countries largely responsible for cocaine cultivation. However, it was surprising Bolivia hadn’t made the list of main producers, especially considering the abundance of coca plants in the region. Unless…

“Tell me, does she have anything in Bolivia?” You ask, acting on the bubbling in your stomach.

“Bolivia?” The tallest echos. “I’m not sure, I’d have to look into that. Why?” syrup haired male looks to you.

“Just wondering,” Humming, you mumble, leaning your head against the back of the armchair.

“What about guns? Weapons? Does she deal with weapons?” Twisting your head to the right you ask the man over Jimin.

“She doesn’t deal with weapons, no. She buys weapons frequently, but she’s never been known to sell them” Namjoon faithfully answers. She didn’t deal with weapons? Why?

“Then where does she get her weapons from?” If she has a running drug ring then she must need weapons. And the larger the operation the more weapons and supplies she requires.

“Ji-Eun gets all her firearms and ammo from the dealers and families under her and only from the people he has control over,”

“Yeah, she rarely makes deals with those who aren’t under her,” Taehyung adds.

Duri may have appeared to be arrogant or brash, but her actions spoke otherwise. She trusted no one other than the ones she had a firm grasp on. Those she could manipulate, those who couldn’t betray her. That level of caution was the making of a dangerous woman. You finally understood why the group might have been eager to align Bangtan ti Duri.

Aligning with Duri would mean not only her support but also the support of the families and groups beneath her.

“So it really surprised us when she wanted to make a deal with us,” Hoseok’s calm voice brings you back from the depth of your thoughts.

“If it were just us, we would have jumped at her offer,” Jin says, his hand coming up to brush the back of his neck. “So I’m glad you were there,”

“Yeah, you really saved us back there,” Yoongi chuckles as a sheepish grin forms on his lips

“I was so focused on what we could gain from the alliance, I forgot to think about what we would be giving in return, and just what exactly “loyalty” included,” Jimin sighs, his eyes shifting to your form.

“We all were,” Jeongguk quips. “Well, aside from (Y/n) I guess,” A smile playing at his lips, he gestures to you.

“How’d you catch it so quickly?” Taehyung asks.

“Well, you guys were so tense around her, I knew she was dangerous. And besides, I was already on guard because of the whole Soomin thing. So as soon as she presented her deal, I thought of every way she could benefit from having our “loyalty”. And the biggest one was that if she used her words right she could possibly have almost full control over our networks,” You explain, toying with the furs on Shelty’s head. “Which would mean she would have the most powerful weapon in existence,”

“Most powerful weapons in existence?” Taehyung parrots, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Accurate information,” Letting your feet down, you answer the male. “If used right it could bring the most powerful people to their knees,”

“But, you need to have reliable information to use it,” Adding to your previous statement, you make your point.

“Man I wasn’t even thinking of that,” The youngest grumbles, throwing his arms behind his head.

“That’s why words are so dangerous,” You hum. “If you don’t listen carefully, you might just end up understanding what you want to understand, and not what the speaker is actually meaning to say,”

“So you have to listen properly,” Chuckling you send Shelty over to the younger male, in an effort to heal his wounded pride. How could someone who has barely known the mafia world outwit him, someone who had been at this for years longer than you?

“Well then, we’re gonna need that kind of listening tomorrow,” Jimin concludes, coming to a stand. A sign the meeting was coming to an end.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be taking a unit of fifteen,” He instructs. “Jin, Jeongguk, and Yoongi, you will stay behind,”

A gentle smile curves on your lips at Jimin's decision. A smart choice on his part, he was leaving back-up just in case something were to happen while he was away. And if something were to happen to him, there would be people to look after the gang.

The mouths of the men called opened and closed, the words of protest dying on their tongue when faced with the hard glare of the mafia don.

“Tomorrow, the people I didn’t call the names of are to meet at the front of the house at 1 p.m. sharp,” He commands, his gaze landing on you as he leaves for the door. A silent demand for you to follow him.

“For now, the meeting is adjourned,” He calls, his back to the group.

Light currents of cool spring air wash through the front gardens. A gentle glimmer of sunlight shining past the few clouds that dotted the vast skies warmed the air, creating a comfortable temperature. The coolness of the wind soothingly caresses your body, crashing and receding like the fluid waves of the oceans as you wait for everyone to arrive at the front doors. If only you were able to properly enjoy this beautiful day.

A strange tightness had taken hold in your chest, forming a sort of a ball in the center of your chest cavity. It would have been easier to ignore if that was all it had been, but that metaphorical ball had been constantly exuding just a surge of nervous energy, almost like the winds that were blowing through the vicinity. It wasn’t that you were nervous about meeting Duri, you had already done that once, you could certainly do it again. And it wasn’t that not all of the core members would be with you, as long as one of them were with you, you would have been fine. Besides, Jimin would be with you.

And you knew it wasn’t because Shelty wasn’t going to be tagging along this time around. Seeing as before the mafia incident, you had rarely ever taken Shelty everywhere you went, aside from the flower shop and on her daily walks, she was usually home.

But perhaps the agitation you were feeling was somehow tied to the weights hanging from your thighs. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth, gingerly brushing your fingertips across the bump jutting from the leather holster, skin making contact with the exposed grip of the steel gun.

All your training sessions for the day had been canceled in favor of letting you rest and mentally prepare for the meeting that was to come. And as you were doing just that, cuddled up in your many blankets and pillows when an unexpected visitor showed up at your door bearing even more unexpected gifts.

Yoongi was at your door, holding the leather holster you had currently donned, two guns - a charcoal-black Tanfoglio Witness and a similarly colored Glock 20 to be exact - and several magazines of ten-millimeter bullets.

At first, you had denied the need for the wraps as you would be with Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and not to mention the other fifteen men that would be attending the meeting with you. But he immediately countered with a “They won’t always be there to protect you”, which was true though you were still reluctant considering you hadn’t had adequate training in firearm handling yet. You had only been working with guns for three days for god's sake! That was when he mentioned that the weapons could be entirely for show and that if Jimin were with you probably wouldn’t even have to draw.

And you finally caved, allowing Yoongi to fit the double thigh holster around your thighs. Which was thankfully not as awkward as you had thought it would be. You had slipped on the belt portion of the holster on your own, and Yoongi simply adjusted the straps to sit comfortably around your clothed flesh.

Heaving another breath lean your weight on your left leg, trying to acknowledge then move on from the heaviness on your thighs.

“Are you nervous, love?” A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Mm, a little,” You grumble, pressing your face against Jimin’s chest as warm arms encompass your waist.

“Don’t be,” He mumbles, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “You’ll do fine,”

Your cheeks puff at his words. He was talking as though you would be the only one carrying this deal. He was going to be there too.

“What?” He says, squishing your puffed out cheeks with his forefingers and his thumb.

The don chuckles as he watches you struggle to get out of his old. Groaning you twist out of the grasp around your cheeks. Then stepping away from him, an amused eyebrow-raising when he takes in your full form.

“What’s this?” He asks, gently tugging you back to him and facing you towards him. “Did Yoongi give you a gift?” His eyes travel the length of your physique, honey-brown orbs running over every curve.

“Yeah,” You murmur quietly, gaze falling to your feet. A sudden shyness blooming in your chest, the original anxiousness now forgotten. ‘This man,’ He always had an effect on you. No matter the situation or the circumstance - somehow every time he had either a calming effect or a flustering one. Personally, you preferred the calming one.

“You look hot," Jimin marveled, drinking in the image of you with leather holsters wrapped around your waist and thighs.

“Shush you,” You hiss, blood rushing to your face, a pretty pink settling on your cheeks. To which the silver-blond replies with a series of chuckles. But the moment is cut short when a loud ring of his cell-phone.

“Hold on,” He fumbled with his suit pocket, fishing out his phone and answering it.

“Hell一”

“Duir! She’s gone! She’s not there anymore!” Soomin rambles, her voice is urgent, almost frantic as she yells out unfinished sentences.

“Soomin, calm down. What are you talking about?” He calmly questions the girl on the other end. And although Jimin’s voice was as steady as a rock you could hear the slight worry leaving his tone.

“The safe house was attacked, they took Ji-Eun Duri,” Jimin’s expression changes to one of surprise, then to one of irritation.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Your head twists to meet the owner of the voice to land on a confused Taehyung and Namjoon with an equally perplexed Hoseok on their tail. The trio comes to stand beside you.

“What?” The male spat. “Do you know who?”

“Yeong!” Jimin’s eyes widened hearing the name of the culprit. Yeong, but how could that be? He was supposed to be injured, not to mention he had lost a sizable number of men, could he have called for this?

“Are you sure?” He asks the female,

“Yes, now, get over here! And quickly!” Frustrated by his many questions, Soomin curtly reaffirms.

“We’ll be there soon,” Jimin growls out a reply before ending the call and running a foul expression taking hold of his handsome face.

“What’s going on?” Tenderly taking hold of Jimin’s free hand, you question softly.

“Ji-Eun Duri was kidnapped,” Your eyes blew apart hearing the silver-blond’s words, and though you had a thousand questions, for the moment, you kept them to yourself. You would get all the answers you wanted once you met up with Soomin.

“Should I get everyone else together?” Namjoon inquired, his cell-phone already on hand.

“No, just us,” Jimin rebuffs. “Now, let’s head out,” He commanded, nudging you into the limousine that had been waiting for the group.

“You sure took your time,” Soomin grunts, leading your group into the safe house - which was more of a luxurious villa - with a bitter scowl etched onto her face. And the interior was in utter disarray; the furniture was displaced, fragments of glass and other materials littered the ground. Dull russet splotches of different sizes decorated the walls and floor. ‘Bloodstains,’ There was a fight, and a big one at that. The mayhem that began at the main entrance continued throughout the hallways you walked.

‘But why is she here?’ You eyed the female as you followed her through the grand corridors of the lavish home. A pressing question resonating in your skull of her current behavior, her actions. Why was she still here? From what you inferred from the encounter three days prior, the pair seemed close. And going by the agitated demeanor she was presenting, she was distressed. She was worried about her ally’s safety yet she was still here, why? Unless… ‘I see,’ There was a reason she wasn’t out there looking for her friend.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for her too?” A peeved scoff leaves Taehyung plush lips, articulating the question that you had been mulling over. Her corners twitch at the male’s words, her expression morphing into one of suppressed rage.

“She can’t,” Soomin's jaw opens to answer the chestnut-haired mafioso, but you cut her off before the situation had a chance to escalate.

“Well, it’s more of she’s already tried,” You clarify your words. “I’m guessing you only called for us because you couldn’t find Ji-Eun Duri on your own,”

“I’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone with a brain around,” Soomin sneers, banking left at the interaction between two hallways. Taehyung snarls at the female’s off-handed remark. “It’s as (Y/n) says,” She gestures to you with a nod. “I’ve put my best of the best at work they still haven’t found her,”

“I tried calling Duri this morning, but she wouldn’t pick up. But that's nothing new, so I didn't think much of it,” A deep sigh escaping her painted lips as she pushes open one of the double doors of the room at the end of the hallway you had been trekking down.

Once within the confines of the large office room, your eyes widened as you took in the condition of the space. It was pristine; not a single furniture out of place, only the rug had been muddied. But the rest of the room was clean, spotless even. It was almost as if this room was left untouched or…

“This place… ” Taehyung lets his gaze drift throughout the room, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his suit pants as Soomin leads the group towards the desk.

“Later when I showed up for today’s meeting,” Her hands spread to gesture to the interior of the house. “I came to this.”

“Then you couldn’t find her on your own and now you want our help, is that about right?” A questioning brow raises on the chestnut-haired mafioso.

“Yes,” Soomin’s jaw clenched at Taehyung’s brash words, before looking to Jimin, her gaze silently pleading for Bangtan’s aide.

“But,” She pauses. “There’s another reason I needed you, well specifically speaking, why I needed (Y/n),”

“Me?” You point to yourself. What did she need you for?

“That,” She gestured to the rectangular letter paper situated on a book. There was a table printed on the paper; eight rows with five columns. Each row of the first column held a single number, from one to eight with rows eight, six, five, three, and one being highlighted.

Each row of the second column held numbers one through fifteen with numbers highlighted on rows eight, six, five, three, and one.

Each row of the third column held numbers one to thirty with multiple numbers highlighted in two different colors on the same rows as the column before.

The fourth column was similarly organized, only these rows had numbers going from one to thirty-five, once again with some of the numbers highlighted, the colors corresponding with the ones on the third column.

But the fifth column was entirely different; it was handwritten rather than highlighted print. And what was even stranger was that only the first and the sixth row had numbers written in.

“What is that?” You question, gaze flickering back to the female that had brought you here.

“I don’t know,” Soomin’s shoulders rise into a shrug. “This was there when I came in,”

“I knew it was some sort of clue Duri left,” She heaves another sigh. “But I couldn’t figure it out,”

“You couldn’t figure it out so you wanted (Y/n)’s help?” Jimin reiterates Soomin’s words.

“Yes,” She affirms, her arms folding defensively over her chest. “Will you take a look?” Her pleading eyes meet yours. She talked as though you had a choice, if you wanted to keep the alliance then you had no choice to help find the older woman. But knowing that exactly didn’t do you any good, it certainly wasn’t going to help you find Duri any faster.

Exhaling a deep breath you focus your mind. There’s a very good chance she wasn’t even in this room while the abduction happened. But going by the mud on the rug and the way it is positioned, you could tell that whoever brought in all that mud stood on the spot, right in the middle of that expensive rug and chatted with someone. Someone sitting behind that desk.

Plus, seeing as there were no other footprints on the floor, no signs of people searching around the room. Duri must’ve been in here. Easing away from the group you carefully wandered the room. The answer to the clue was in this room. The way she highlighted those numbers, it wasn’t haphazardly done, the highlighter strokes were precise and clear. Not to mention the paper itself, most of the columns and numbers were printed out for god's sake. So this clue had been preplanned, she expected something like this may happen and had already taken precautions. Now the question was where was the answer?

Your intent gaze brushed over every nook, every cranny, every detail of this room. ‘It has to be in here,’ The sofas, the coffee table, the cupboards, the bookshelf一 the bookshelf. You briskly walked over to the tall bookshelf up against the wall behind the desk.

‘Are those numbers?’ Your eyebrows knit together as you delicately run your finger down the spines of a book before you. Examining the books, all of these books were in English, and each of them had numbers at the end of their spines.

‘One, two, three, four…’ Counting out the number of books in each row there were exactly fifteen books, all numbered. ‘Eight rows,’ Your eyes widened as you registered your own words, the pieces of the puzzle started to come together.

The carnage outside, and the lack of carnage in here, the footprints, the clue, it was all falling in place.

“She was in here when it happened,” You mused, your thoughts flowing straight from your head to your mouth. “There wasn’t a fight or struggle. Ji-Eun Duri left with them,”

“What are you talking about?!” Soomin is quick to defend the older woman. “My mother would never leave with the enemy!”

“She didn’t leave by choice, no. But she did cooperate with them. Oh yeah, she left with them, alright,” Hurrying back to the desk, you pick up the paper sitting on the book before your brain finally processing Soomin’s words. “Ji-Eun Duri is your mother?” You blanch at the other female.

“N一no, well, yes. She’s my adoptive mother,” The girl clarifies her hands creating round gestures as she did. “But that’s not the point,” Shaking off the question she speaks.

“Duri would never leave with the enemy,”

“Oh, but she did,” Your head tilts as you rush back to the bookshelf, pulling out the five books highlighted on the first column of the table. “But there’s a reason why she left,”

“Why are you getting books?” Taehyung asks, confusion muddling his already sour expression as he watches you gather book after book in your arms.

Once you retrieved the five books from the shelf back to the desk, you organized them by order of the rows they were in, believing that would be the order of the message.

“You mean the books?” Soomin’s voice quiets as the revelation dawns on her. “The numbers! The shelves! How did I not see that before?!” She exclaims, rushing to the desk, determined to lend you a hand. And to be useful to the search.

“If the first column means bookshelf and the second column means book number. Then the third column must mean page number,” The female mafiosos babbles, catching onto the pattern. “So the fourth column would be the word, but what’s the fifth column?” Frown lines set on her forehead as he faces another dead end.

“If we follow the progression, then the fifth should mean letter,” You chuckle when Soomin was unable to understand the last column even though the answer was right before her.

While you and Soomin were occupied with deciphering the message of the code, turning to the page the paper dictated, then to the word and letter. Another figure entered the chaos which was Ji-Eun’s office.

“Namjoon-ssi, I came here as soon as I could,” A smooth voice, comparable to softest silk spoke from beyond the agape double doors.

“Ah yes, Hyuk, come in,” Namjoon invited the owner of the voice into the room.

Even you couldn’t resist the urge to peek at the holder of such a honeyed voice. Your curious gaze landed on the figure of a beautiful man talking to the don’s right-hand man.

He had porcelain pale skin with a pair of the brightest hazel orbs you had ever laid eyes on. A sharp, defined jawline with pitch-black locks gracefully resting against his forehead. He was truly beautiful, of course to you no one could compare to Jimin, but the specimen standing before you was quite fine as well.

“Oh? Should I be worried?” Jimin chuckles, a deep fuschia dusts your cheeks, having been caught ogling admiring another man.

“Of course not,” You huff, pout puffing onto your cheeks.

“You’re adorable,” The silver-blond whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your plush lips, pulling you into him.

“Oh, hush you,” Mumbling into his pillowy lips, you place once last chaste kiss on them before returning to your code-cracking. A quiet chuckle leaves his cherry-pink lips as he eases away from the desk to the sofas where Taehyung had found himself a seat.

“So when did that happen?” Soomin goads as she flipped the first book of the list open.

“When did what happen?” You return cooly, taking the paper with the message, and rereading over the contents. The sly woman gives you a shit-eating grin, her eyes possessing an incredibly entertained glint.

“Whatever, just turn to page twenty-one,” You commanded. Soomin lets out a soft chortle before turning the page you had instructed to. “There are more than one numbers highlighter on this row, so I’m guessing two different pages,”

“And the highlighter colors must coincide with the which number is for what page,” Soomin adds.

“First is word number three, letters one and five,”

Craning your neck to look into the book, you count the words from the top line to the left, landing on “Jadeites”. What did that even mean?

“Jadeites, so a ‘j’ and an ‘i’,” Soomin noted down the two letters.

“Keep the capitals,” You instruct, a woman cunning enough to create such a message would know to keep those minor details in check.

“Alright, next page,” Soomin looks to you expectantly.

“Twenty-three; word five; letters one, two, three, and four,”

Turning to the commanded page, Soomin counts down the words before reciting her findings. “The word is “during”. So, “d”, “u”, “r”, and “i”,”

“Duri?” Combining together the letters you said aloud the word that came as a result. Your expression hardened at the outcome of the search - it was a sign - you were on the right track.

“Next book,” Sharply you call for the search to continues.

“Right,” Soomin sets down the book in her hold, lifting the next book in sequence.

“Page fifteen; words twelve and twenty,”

“It’s “thirty” and “eight”, any letters?” She asks. With a shake of your head, you reply a silent ‘no’.

“Okay next,” Picking up the next novel, she asks for directions.

“Page ten; words seven, twenty-eight, and thirty,’’

“So, “at”, “i” and “cloud”,” The peach-blonde woman read out her findings.

‘At I cloud,’ Wasn’t that... Your eyes wide as you finally understood Drui’s plan. And if your hunch was correct then this would certainly lead you directly to her.

“Soomin, what kind of phone does Ji-Eun carry?” You ask, urgency lacing your voice.

“An apple, why?” She answers, and the realization is immediate “Oh!”

“I’ll go get a laptop,” Soomin calls, scurrying out of the room.

“What happened?” Taehyung straightens in his seat when Soomin abruptly dashes out of the office. “What’s going on? Where is she going?” A slew of questions falls from the brunette's lips as he slowly lowers himself onto the sofa.

“What’s wrong, love? Did you two find something?” Jimin inquires, cruising over to where you furiously turned pages of a thick book.

“If this is what I think it is then it’ll only be minutes until we find her,” You say as you run your fingers across the page of the book, eyes scanning over the many words before taking a shaky step back. A wide grin curling on your lips.

“Oh, you sneaky woman,” Chuckling with a shake of your head you scribble down words onto a piece of paper.

“Alright, I got it,” Soomin returns with a slender silver laptop computer.

“I thought Ji-Eun didn’t have a tracker on her,” Hoseok said, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“That’s what I thought too,” Soomin admitted, taking long and unjustifiably confident strides towards the desk.

“Wait, so she does have a tracker?” Taehyung's statement sounds more of a question as he tries to piece together what the two crazy women were spouting.

“Not exactly,” The peach-blonde female purs.

“I am thoroughly confused,” The crimson-haired mafioso mumbles, arms folded over his chest, Hoseok stands beside Namjoon at the desk.

“You see she carries an Apple phone,” You begin, your excited gaze meeting their befuddled ones.

“And?” Taehyung grunts. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You see, most to all smart-phones these days come with a built-in GPS tracker, and that is especially for Apple,” The peach-haired female continues your explanation.

“All Apple devices come in with a “Find My Phone” feature where you can track your lost phone from an Apple computer or any other IOS device by using your Apple ID and signing into iCloud,” Piggybacking on Soomin’s continuation you fully expound the group in your findings.

“So you intend to track Duri’s location from her phone,” Jimin restates your intentions in clear terms, shuffling closer to better see the computer screen.

“Okay, settings, and here’s the Apple ID,” You instruct, shuffling the piece of paper the peach-blonde had jotted down the fragments of the encoded message.

As directed, she opens the settings of the computer, typing the email of the apple ID into the text bar before clicking the next option.

“The password?” Her questioning gaze lifts to meet yours.

“Come find me, no space,” You answer with a knowing grin.

“No, she didn’t,” Soomin crowed, pressing both her palms on the desk, her faze holding an oddly amused yet annoyed expression.

Scoffing, the blonde enters the password, immediately scouring the settings for the “Find My Phone” feature once the program accepted the password.

“And there she is,” Airily, Soomin breaths out. The tracking feature promptly displayed the image of the phone’s location. A smile erupts on your face as you see all your hard work pay off. Your chest blooming with pride at your achievement, in such a short time frame no less.

However, the sense of victory is short-lived when you realize that someone could have easily taken Duri’s cell-phone and planted it in another location, possibly a trap. It wouldn’t be too difficult to do so. Not to mention it would make an incredibly effective trap as you would have no choice but to fall for the trap, that is if you wanted to retrieve Duri.

“(Y/n)?” Jimin calls your name, quickly noting your now crestfallen expression.

“The phone could have been planted,” You mumble. “This could be a trap,”

The energy of the room falls, just as yours had, before a honeyed voice chime in.

“Then why don’t we have people scout the area from afar?” The charcoal-haired man that had later entered the scene suggests.

“And you are?” You ask the male standing across from you, beyond the desk. That was the man you had been caught ogling, his pitch-black locks falling to the side with the slight tilt of his head.

“Ri Hyuk, but please call me Hyuk (L/n)-ssi” He introduces himself with a soft bow.

“Oh, and you already know me?” Surprise lacing your tone, unaware that word about yourself had spread in the mafia community.

“With my line of work it would be strange for me to not know,” Chuckling softly, Hyuk pushes his fists into the pockets of his slacks.

“Right,” An awkward replay leaves your lips, unsure of how to react as the male stared daggers into you. His gaze was sharp, plush lips curling into a foxy smile. The more you interacted with the male the more he disconcerted you, you could feel his eyes appraising you, analyzing you. That man may have been handsome; he did not exude the warmth Jimin did, in fact, Hyuk’s presence brought a certain chill to the room.

“Okay so why don’t you give me the location you found and I’ll send out a team to scope out the place?” Namjoon offers, his voice bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” Your head turns to Soomin expectantly, your brain having ceased all function at the moment.

“Here, just take the computer,” She lifts the slender body of the laptop, handing the computer to the tall mafioso.

The room settles into a stifling silence as the group waits to hear back from the team Namjoon had sent out. You quietly sat on the sofas beside Jimin, toying with the straps of the holsters around your thighs.

“I have to say (L/n)-ssi, the way you solved the case was quite impressive,” Hyuk speaks, breaking the long quiet.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Sheepishly grinning, you accept the praise before falling back into the silence. Only for the same male to break it once again with an interesting observation.

“I must say, Ji-Eun Duri has quite the taste in flowers,” Humming, Hyuk gestures to the vibrant yellow blossoms decorating the cylindrical lavender flower vase sitting on Duri’s desk.

“Huh?” With all that had been happening you had completely overlooked the beautiful blooms that gracefully sat on the older woman’s desk. You hadn’t realized the onyx haired woman had an interest in flowers.

“Tansies?” Out of sheer habit, your mind had automatically identified the vivid bloom. Your eyes widen, hearing your own words.

“(Y/n), what's wrong?!” Jimin exclaims when you spring out of your seat, your eyes trained on the seemingly harmless flora.

‘Tansies’

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Tansy: Hostiliy; “I declare war against you,”

#mafia au!#mafia au #park jimin x reader #Mafia Park Jimin x reader #Park Jimin #bts mafia au #Mafia Park Jimin #Mafia Jin #mafia namjoon #mafia taehyung #mafia hoseok #mafia yoongi #mafia jungkook #Doctor reader kind of #Purple Irises #Mafia BTS #bts fic

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

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Magical Moostery Tour || Regan, Nadia, Deirdre, Blanche, and Kaden

TIMING: A long ass time ago when Regan didn’t have wings PARTIES: @kadavernagh @harlowhaunted @deathduty @humanmoodring and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Regan got the whole gang VIP tickets to Moosventures and Blanche was the tour guide. What could go wrong?

Bringing Kaden and Deirdre together, dragging Nadia out of the apartment and herself out of the morgue… well, okay, probably everything could go wrong. Regan had called ahead to specifically request Blanche for their VIP moose tour and, taking Kaden’s advice, she’d told them not to alert her to this. She wasn’t sure what to expect from a moose tour agency, but it wasn’t the moose heads hanging on the wall. Not that she minded, but there was something extremely morbid about that. And there were few things in life -- or death -- that Regan considered morbid. Maybe they were fake, but they looked real enough. She tapped Kaden on the shoulder and gestured toward one of the heads, making sure he saw it. After all, he liked skulls.

While they waited, Regan scanned the room. The place wasn’t crowded, though it was possible not everyone was there yet. How many people really wanted to go on a moose tour? A little over a dozen people, as it turned out. Two young couples, a family with kids, and some single nature-lovers all queued up impatiently as the tour company was… preparing the bus or something. “I’m sure Deirdre and Nadia will be here any minute! They wouldn’t want to miss this. Probably.”

Kaden hated waiting. They were a solid half hour early, too, at Regan's insistence. Only she hadn't told him they were getting there early. Had he known that he would have conveniently delayed picking her up as long as possible. He was leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, starting to doze off, when Regan nudged him and he jumped awake. He looked around for anything alarming, then followed her line of sight to the moose heads. His brow furrowed, they looked like moose heads. Weird to have before a moose tour, sure, but they seemed pretty standard. Wait, did she still think he was a game hunter? Right. Probably. Not like he exactly told her otherwise. He pulled his mouth into a half smile and nodded like they were great.

He sighed and checked the time on his phone. It had only been seven whole minutes. "I hope so." Well, at least Nadia. He was dreading having to sit around and play nice with Deirdre. Thank god he'd be able to distract himself by annoying hell out of Blanche. "It's still early. I'm sure they're on their way." He smiled at Regan as he leaned back again and put his arm around the back of her chair.

Nadia locked her truck and headed to the moose tour building. Honestly, not how she thought she was going to be spending her night, but it seemed like fun. She remembered that she’d told Regan that the moose tour seemed interesting when they first became friends, and, well, there was no sense in turning it down. She was running late from the time that Regan had given her, though. She quickly walked into the building and headed to where she saw Regan and Kaden seated. As she took a seat, she leaned over and murmured, “Sorry I’m…” she looked around at the lack of people and the fact that no one seemed to be getting ready to start, “late?”

There was nothing that sounded more idiotic to Deirdre than looking at living moose. Except, maybe, paying someone to help her look at living moose. The only benefit was seeing Regan, a gift of which she would never turn down, and then the possibility of potentially pushing Kaden into a comically large pile of moose excrement. If Kaden would die sometime during this venture, Deirdre would count this journey a victory, but she knew White Crest wouldn’t offer her even that one little thing. And then there was Nadia, Regan’s allotted human. If she was to die, Deirdre would count that a victory too, but the thought left her with an odd touch of sadness. She rationalized that as mourning the loss of the fun kind of criminal, a true tragedy in the monotony of the human world.

Deirdre pushed open the doors, appalled for a moment that there was no human to offer to do the manual labor for her. Her gaze snapped to the three people she was meant to meet; astonishing Regan in her adorable turtleneck glory, disgusting-waste-of-a-human Kaden….and Nadia. Or who Deirdre assumed was Nadia. Were she not focused on glaring at Kaden’s arm around Regan’s chair--familiar and crude--she would have enjoyed the company’s decorating choices. “This better be a-moose-ing,” she strode to them, haphazardly tossing off her notably unnecessary sunglasses. She was aiming for Kaden’s head, a task that proved harder to do when she was trying not to look like she wanted to impale him with an antler hat. Where her sunglasses actually landed was another story.

Stan was acting weird as they got the bus ready for the nights tour. He had taken care of the check in process, so Blanche hadn’t even seen the list of how big it was supposed to be. There were four V.I.P. seats, though, which meant there would be four people practically on top of her while she recited Moose factoids. She pushed her stupid headband of specialty pair of Moose Antler’s and put her magnetic gold name tag that said her name in a styled ‘Moosey’ font, and went to greet the patrons. She had gotten… sort of? Better at it, as time went on. She still didn’t have the pep in her step or passion for moose Pam or the new part-time tour guide named Martha did. “Hi everyone,” Blanche had started saying, adjusting the Mooseventure brand fleece jacket (available at the gift case for $24.99 in child and adult sizes). “W- unf.”

Deirdre’s sunglasses soared through the air, bouncing off Blanche’s face and falling onto her small box of mooseantlers. Blanche stopped, looked at the sunglasses, before looking up. Her worst nightmare were sitting right there in front of her. Oh no. She saw Deirdre first. Then Kaden. Nadia. Regan. Who she knew had four V.I.P. passes. Oh no. Absolutely not. Horror, rage, and embarrassment flashed across her reddening face. “Oh my god.” Why couldn’t her moose antler headband come with a mask? Actually, just let her wear a giant moose head like a mascot. Blanche shot a look at Regan, to her other patrons. And then, through her teeth, she started the welcome script.

“Welcome. Are you all ready to see some moose. I’m Blanche. Your tour guide for tonight. And. Your. Fellow. Moosenthusiast.” She, very stiffly, handed the cardboard box of moose antlers out. “We can’t get on the bus without the proper headgear. We wouldn’t want to scare the moose.” She shot her friends a look. “Mandatory.”

With Nadia and Deirdre finally showing up, the gang was all here. Almost. Regan’s eyes followed the pair of sunglasses that Dierdre whipped off her face, and nearly yelped when she saw Blanche on the other end of their trajectory. And -- oh no! They must’ve hit her face harder than it looked, because her cheeks were all red. Both of them, actually. That was strange. Regan winced in empathy and waggled her fingers in a shy wave. It was rude to interrupt her introduction spiel while she was working, right? But the deflated way Blanche spoke was almost depressing, and Regan had to wonder if something was wrong. And… why were they distributing styrofoam antlers? “I don’t need those,” she said, holding her head proudly, “I’m not a child.” But Blanche had used the word mandatory. And -- hey, why had she made eye contact when she said that? Did she already know Regan would protest? She sighed. “I’ll hold them. I’m not wearing them.” She sidled up next to Kaden and once Nadia and Deirdre had antlers in hand, the group was ushered onto a bus. Discrete from the outside, the inside was plastered in moose memorabilia. She looked down at her VIP ticket stub, which indicated that they had the frontmost seats for “best viewing”. Why did they even bother with stubs? It wasn’t like they could leave the bus, even if they wanted to… now there was a slightly terrifying thought. She glanced between Kaden, Deirdre, and Nadia as a decision cemented itself. “I think… Kaden, do you want to sit with Deirdre?”

Kaden was really hoping that Deirdre just wouldn't show up. He was so close to getting his wish, too. Then she walked in the door, flinging her sunglasses like some sort of over dramatic diva. Somehow she was worse in person. He didn't think it was possible. He sighed and shot her a look and almost missed seeing Blanche get decked by the sunglasses. Seeing the look of horror on her face was worth it, he had to admit. He had to bite back the laughter at her moose antlers and forced bullshit monologue. His smile faded a bit when she handed him his own set of moose antlers. He was pretty sure they weren't mandatory and this was her form of payback. "Come on, Regan, can't scare the moose," he said as he put his antlers on her head. If he was going to look stupid, he wasn't going to do it alone. He turned to Blanche before grabbing another set. "If I put these on, do I get to ask as many questions as I want?" he asked with a smirk. "There's just so much to learn about the moose. I've gotta know." Kaden was starting to think this might be fun after all. Then Regan had to suggest that. His face fell and he tried not to shoot Deirdre a glare. The word "No" didn't seem strong enough. But he was pretty sure he couldn't refuse. As much as he wanted to. "Do I-- Are you sure? I mean..."

Nadia frowned as she took the moose antlers, but she was more focused on trying to drown out all of the feelings going on around her. Between Blache’s embarrassment (poor girl; Nadia could only imagine that she hadn’t been expecting to see the four of them while she was working) and the animosity Kaden had coming off of him in waves, it was hard for her to think. And the source of his animosity… Nadia hadn’t really known what to think, meeting Deirdre. The other woman was just as loud in person as she was online. It was all a bit much. Nadia tried to focus on herself, on what she was feeling. She-- it was hard-- she hated the moose antlers. That’s what she was feeling, but she put them on and glanced up as Regan asked if Kaden and Deirdre wanted to sit together. No, that sounded like an awful idea, a really bad idea, but she couldn’t exactly blurt out that she could tell they hated each other just from feelings. She looked between the three of them, then looked at Blanche, then looked back. Nadia should’ve stayed home.

Deirdre didn’t mind the moose antlers. She could see the apprehension in her companions faces but she was of the (correct) belief that she looked good in anything. She took them with a smile, which widened at seeing Blanche at her other job and veered into a smirk at Regan’s suggestion. “I’d love to sit next to Kaden! We can get closer--in several ways.” She slipped the antlers on, trying to find Kaden’s gaze to shoot him a wink. Oh, he was right to hate her. But she reveled in that hate. She glanced over at Nadia, her frown died as she remembered one of their older conversations. With a cough she spoke generally to the air, “the humans are louder! If you focus on what isn’t--it’s less overwhelming.” Hopefully the small nugget of information could make up to Nadia about being stuck here. “Just something my grandmother said about….moose. That humans are louder than….them…” she coughed again, “anyway, don’t you mean it’s moose-datory?” Deirdre grinned, “lead on cadet.”

Blanche’s protest almost turned into gagging as Kaden stuck his moose antlers on Regan’s head. Ew. What the hell was that? Cursed. She glowered at Kaden, giving him the most withering stare “I’m here to answer all Moose questions, as your tour guide,” She said, through her teeth. She felt a little better when Regan suggested Kaden and Deirdre sit together, snorting under her breath as she began checking stuff off on her clip board. Nadia looked like she wanted out too. Same, Nadia, she thought. Blanche looked at Deirdre, and realized that maybe Deirdre should be the Moose themed tour-guide. “Moose-datory. What a great pun! Alright everyone, out this way, and up onto the bus!” Blanche was used to people herding. “Our for VIP members right up front! With me!” Oh god, with her. She would practically be on top of them. Noooo. “Antlers on, everyone, we’re almost ready to take off!”

Aside from the moose antlers that Kaden had stuck on her head, this was going… great! Regan’s heart soared. 5 friends, all in the same place, all enjoying the moose. Except Blanche, who didn’t look particularly happy… actually, now that she thought about it, Nadia looked pretty overwhelmed (maybe she was really excited about the moose?). Deirdre and Kaden seemed okay, though. She wondered if they’d have some moose bones to pass around on the bus, like a show and tell. Part of this was about education, after all, wasn’t it? That would cheer everyone up. They followed Blanche’s lead onto the bus, and Regan shuffled into the first available window seat, motioning for Nadia to join her. Meanwhile, Kaden and Deirdre took the next. There was a strange sharpness to both of their eyes. Was it a mistake to suggest this seating arrangement? She knew Deirdre and Kaden had their differences, but they both seemed eager to put it all behind them. Regan raised her hand, like this was a lecture. “I have a question about moose! What’s their most common cause of natural death? And do you have some moose bones, or maybe a nice intestine, to pass around for educational purposes? Sorry. That’s two questions.”

Kaden’s eyes narrowed at Deirdre’s fucking wink. He’d love nothing more than to just stab right then and there, be done with it. Never have to play nice with monsters again. Instead he forced a smile onto his face as he gestured for her to take the window seat before sitting next to her “Oh yeah, so much closer. After you.” He may or may not have “accidentally” stepped on her toes as he sat down in the seat beside her. “Sorry. I’m just so clumsy. What can you do?” He tried to bite back a smirk but it didn’t work. As fun as that was, he turned his attention back to Regan and her questions for Blanche. She’d mentioned she’d be bringing a list but that wasn’t exactly what he expected her to ask. Which really was his mistake, come to think of it. “Yeah, pipsqueak. Where’s the moose intestine? Stomach? You must have something.” Weird as the questions were, he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to badger Blanche. And hey, if he was annoying enough, maybe he’d get lucky and she’d kick him off the tour early.

This was going to be a long night, Nadia just knew it. Which, it was already a long night; it’d been a long night for awhile now. Still. For a second, she was confused as hell as to what Deirdre might mean, with humans being loud before oh. Nadia had forgotten she’d told the banshee that she was an empath; she sent Deirdre a grateful look. As she followed Regan to their seats, she tried to mostly just focus on Deirdre and a little on Regan, since they were apparently a bit more dulled (that explained a lot, actually). Still, it was hard, and dulled didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Deirdre and Kaden were antagonistic, Blanche was hella embarrassed, and Regan… was asking about moose intestines. Which, yeah, that was about right. Poor Blanche. “Maybe,” she said, hoping to help the younger woman, “Blanche will be taking questions towards the end? Don’t want to distract her from her spiel, you know?”

Deirdre gritted her teeth, trying her best not to stab Kaden right then and there for the simple act of stepping on her toes. Maybe she was clumsy too. Maybe a knife would just slip out of one of her dozen or so pockets and find its way into his---”Oh! Perfectly fine, Kady. Love the way you...walk.” Fates, she hated him. Thankfully, conversation about moose death and moose entrails was exactly the kind of distraction from murderous thoughts that she liked. Deirdre let out a soft chuckle at Nadia’s attempt at help. It was so cute. Unfortunately, Deirdre had no intentions of letting it work. “Entrails!” She shouted, which quickly turned into an enthusiastic chant. “Entrails! Entrails! Entrails! Moose entrails!” And who would blame her if one of her excited fist pumps hit Kaden? Or If she was shouting at him more than she was Blanche. Or if she leaned back and whispered “I love death” into his ear. “As VIP guests, we should get to have our question answered, shouldn’t we? And we should get to pass around entrails and bones and whatever else you have there, shouldn’t we?” There was a mutinous edge to her words.

At some point between being called a pipsqueak and Deirdre shouting and chanting about entrails, Blanche was pretty sure she blacked out because next thing she knew Stan was nudging her from the driver’s seat. He looked concerned. How dare he look concerned when he did this to her! This was his fault! Blanche ran her hands down her face, and craned her head to look at the other patrons on the bus, particularly the ones with children. Most of them looked mortified. Great. “Wolves,” Blanche finally answered through gritted teeth, looking at Regan. “Wolves are predators of Moose, though not usually in Maine. Coyotes, surprisingly, can also take a moose out. Common diseases include brain worm, which is usually fatal, winter ticks, which is fatal only when a moose is heavily ingested, and liver fluke, large flatworms that are usually found in white-tailed deer, but moose can get it too. Once again, it’s usually fatal if a moose is heavily infested.” Blanche rattled off the facts that she had memorized, before hearing the bus start and Stan taking off. She was supposed to be following a script, but she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get through half of it. “We do not have any entrails,” She shot a look at Deirdre and Kaden. “But we have antlers you can touch when we get back to the lobby. Any other questions before we continue?”

Other than the extremely disappointing lack of moose entrails available on the bus, this wasn’t a half-bad experience. Blanche’s ease of answering questions was impressive -- something Regan would commend her on later -- and even Kaden and Deirdre seemed to be getting along. Possibly? They were getting pretty close, physically. Unfortunately, Regan couldn’t say that Nadia was having a great time; the stress was plain on her face, even when the whole bus excitedly gathered around to get a good moose viewing angle. Wasn’t that supposed to be fun? She offered her hand to Nadia as an informative video about moose started playing on the screens around the bus. “The moose, the majestic hooved mammal of the north, can reach the size of…” Wasn’t this all information they were presented with anyways? Thud. The screen cut out. Just for a moment. Regan blinked. Thud thud. Again. The bus driver slammed to a stop, and did what no one wants to see their driver do: stand up. Regan gave Nadia a concerned glance and leaned forward, trying to see what was happening. Thud thud. Louder this time; the bus rocked. “Is this… part of the tour?”

The tour turned perfectly boring for a while. They asked Blanche questions; she answered. They looked at a moose; it was, in fact, a moose. There was a shitty video playing; it was-- Well he was going to say boring but then the power cut out and the bus started shaking. Maybe this wouldn’t be so boring after all. Kaden pushed his way around Deirdre to see out the window. He frankly didn’t care if she protested. Shit, didn’t see anything, must have been on the other side. “Excuse me, animal control, out of the way. Gotta see what’s going on here,” he said as he stood to get a better look out of the window on the other side of the bus, moving whoever he needed to out of his way. “Putain,” he grumbled as he saw the problem in question. There was no mistaking it. That was a fucking bies rocking the fucking bus. He grumbled to himself, “I thought we got rid of that shit, how is there another one?” He tried to start formulating a plan on how to deal with the monster without looking like a complete lunatic and all the sudden he felt a chill go past him all of the sudden. Weird. “Think you can cause a distraction while I take down a bies?” he leaned over and whispered to Nadia. “You know, unless you’ve got a better plan then by all means, now’s the time to share.”

Nadia was spending most of the first part of the tour trying not to get overwhelmed. Granted, most of the people on the tour just felt bored, but there were still more people in an enclosed space than she was used to. Bars were fine. She could drink; she could have space. This… reminded her of a field trip. She hated buses. Then, the power went out and the bus started shaking, and Nadia couldn’t see shit, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise in a way she was learning to associate with paranormal activity. Fuck. Ghost. Granny? No idea. As Kaden leaned over and whispered in her ear, it felt like it was closer. Not Granny? She couldn’t focus. It took her too long to figure out what he was saying. Making sure Regan wasn’t too busy paying attention to what was going on at the front of the bus, Nadia frantically whispered to Kaden, “The fuck is a bies?!?” She took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on Regan’s dulled concern. “Alright, shit. I can-- shit. Be careful?” She dropped her phone and kicked it toward the front of the bus. “Oh, shit!” There were children. She could feel paternal judgement coming from the back. “My phone! Hey, can anyone help me find my phone?!” She grabbed Regan’s hand and jerked her down. “Please help me find it!”

Deirdre was sure she’d fallen asleep during the tour. Or at least, she must have, because the last thing she remembered was trying to start a chant and now the bus was shaking. Which was, admittedly, the most interesting part of the tour. Then there was an elbow in her face and she groaned trying to get away from Kaden before she eventually crawled over him to tumble out into the space between the seating. To make matters worse, some thing had started spouting off in French and Deirdre’s salt packets had tumbled out of her pockets as she escaped Kaden. “I’m right here!” She hissed at him, “why are you asking Nadia when I’m right here!” Did he not know what bies were afraid of? Was he that bad of a hunter? She lifted her gaze up, looking at Blanche. She couldn’t scream while children were here, she couldn’t shatter glass where it could hurt them. The adults, she didn’t care so much about hurting. “Get me off this bus and I can deal with it a lot better than you can,” she hissed at Kaden again, before snapping her gaze up once more to gesture at Blanche. “We should all look for Nadia’s phone! Isn’t that right, tour...uh, leader? Shouldn’t we all be ducking and not looking out the window and really focused on Nadia’s phone?”

Blanche answered most questions they had through gritted teeth, happy to take a much needed break when the stupid video started playing. People love informational videos! Stan had said. But did they though? Blanche didn’t complain as she reached for her metal water bottle, taking aswig just as something slammed against the bus. Blanche jerked, before her head whipped to see Stan stand up. Blanche’s water bottle clanged loudly to the bus floor as the yelling in French started. Ah, there was Mrs. Langley. To make matters worse, her own ghost showed herself. Granny had appeared, probably having been following the damn bus from afar - ‘A magic moose is hitting the bus!’ Granny was yelling in her ear, Mrs. Langley was popping off at Kaden for being a dumb fucking hunter, the stupid, apparently magic moose was smacking the side of the bus, and Deirdre was speaking to her. Shit. “Everyone! Shut up!” Blanche hissed, loudly. Granny repeated Deirdre’s instructions instead of shutting up. “Wh- oh!” She hopped off her seat, people were worriedly trying to get a glimpse of the magic moose. “Everyone!” Blanche grabbed onto the back of the seat to keep herself from being thrown off balance. “Everyone! Can I have your attention please! We urge you not to panic and to let, uh, Animal Control take care of the situation! If we could all have you duck under your seats, please, and do not look out the windows, that, uhhh, would be great! Right Stan? Stan? Oh.” Stan looked a little green. Blanche turned her attention back to the group. “Everyone do it now! Right now!”

Kaden was thankful Nadia took direction well and started fumbling for her phone, taking Regan to the floor with her. Good. This was going to be way too much to explain. He was just about to leave the bus with his, uh, well, he had one smaller knife on him, when Deirdre snapped at him. “You? What are you going to d--” And then it hit him. Noise. Banshee. “Wait, won't that fucking burst our ear drums?” he whispered to her. It'd at least do a number on his. Merde. "Fine. Play along.” He pushed past people and carefully stepped over the ones rummaging on the floor to the door. “Animal control, both of us. We've got this. Just duck and, uh, cover your ears.” He gave Blanche a pointed look, hoping she followed what he was suggesting as he pushed the doors open and hopped out of the bus, assuming Deirdre was behind him. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. Not really great, but it'd have to do. “Hey!” he shouted at the beast. He probably didn't need to, it had sure seen him. With a loud bellow, the bies reared up. Well shit, it looked angry. Really angry. And all of that anger seemed directed right at him as it charged straight at him. He ducked and rolled to the side. Into the bus tire. Which hurt, but not as much as those hooves. “You better work fast,” he grumbled in Deirdre’s general direction, knife in hand as he pushed himself off the ground. He had no idea if her plan would work and if the beast would run or not, so he figured it was best to be prepared. With the monster running the other way, Kaden sprinted towards it, hoping to catch it off guard, in the middle of changing direction. He reached the monster's flank and dug his knife it, pulling down hard, hoping to split a tendon or artery, fucking anything to slow it down, just in case they all had to run. He just hoped she'd fucking warn him when she planned on screaming. Yeah, alright, odds were she wouldn't. Putain. Who needed hearing anyway?

Following Kaden's lead had proved to be more degrading than Deirdre thought. There was nothing more humiliating than walking behind him, than walking behind any human, really. But such sacrifices had to be made for the greater good of...moose touring. The bies seemed occupied enough with Kaden though and for a moment, Deirdre considered just leaving him there. And considering it, she stood there doing nothing a beat longer than she probably should have. Then, she squared herself and opened her mouth to let out a scream, directed perfectly at the bies (though she gave no real attempt on trying to aim away from Kaden). The bies cried, its anger dissolved quickly into fear. Suddenly, aggressive posture diminished into panic. The once imposing creature appeared as a shell of itself, desperate for escape, but far too disoriented to find it. It thrashed, predictably, and Deirdre grinned imaging the trouble Kaden must have been going through trying to evade it. She could have screamed enough the first time to knock it out or chase it off...but she liked this better. Again, she let the animal and Kaden have their fun for a moment too long before she screamed once more, enough to finally cause the creature to flee in disarray. She turned to the bus, the windows were unshockingly intact—she was far too proud not to show off the aim she'd mastered. And then back to Kaden, smiling with the hope he'd understand her purposefully drawn out screams, "lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" Before finally she slipped back onto the bus before him, "now is this the part where we get to see the moose entrails?"

Blanche almost swore at Kaden as he ordered them all around and shot her a look, but there was a time to be defiant against authority and it wasn’t when she had a bus full of people that just wanted to see Moose. Mrs. Langley was off going on and on somewhere, all in french and Granny was hovering far too close for comfort, for once not saying anything, but anxious all the same. “You heard animal control!” Blanche bellowed, loudly. “Everyone duck and cover your ears. Now! You too, Stan!” One of the suburban mothers in the back tried to say something, but Blanche barked out another order before doing the same. Granny was busy trying to give her a play by play, but she could barely hear anything until finally it was over. Blanche slowly stood, pulling her hands away from her ears as Deirdre cheerfully got back onto the bus and asked her about moose entrails again. Blanche looked at her, before she peaked out the window to make sure the moose thing was gone and that Kaden’s dead body wasn’t just lying out there. She didn’t even want to know what kind of incident report she would have to fill out if someone died on a Mooseventure tour. Blanche ran a hand down her face, and went to jab Stan in the ribs. “Get it together!” She hissed, “I can’t drive the bus back!” Blanche looked at Deirdre, before putting on what she hoped was an award winning Tour Guide smile. “There will be no Moose Entrails on this tour! But, on our lovely drive back to the building, I can give you statistics about - uh - Moose and how they rarely show fear! Such as when the approach tourbuses full of people! Ha-ha.”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #writing #IT LIVES #magic moostery tour #nadia #humanmoodring #regan #kadavernagh #blanche #harlowhaunted #deirdre #deathduty

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