#bts mafia arranged marriage au

[minniepetals]

cry me a river | the habits

— summary: you are a weapon and weapons do not weep

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 6.4k

— warnings: physical abuse, violence, mentally unstable mindset

— PART 25 / previous post / masterpost

One.

Two.

Three.

The seconds will pass. The minutes will fly. The hours will go.

You’re alright.

Endure it. Endure it.

It will pass.

Everything will pass just as everything has always passed.

In time, father will raise his hand to indicate them to stop. A stop signal. He may leave the room out of boredom but he will return just as he always does in order to demand them to leave you alone. He will never be satisfied but there is always a limit to everything and father sometimes gets too bored to keep seeing it, to keep hearing it, so he’s always there to stop it.

Eventually.

Eventually.

You just have to endure it for now until the signal comes, until—

“What are you doing?!”

You didn’t realize it and perhaps that’s because you blacked out, your mind keeping you from feeling it all completely, trying to protect you, but you’re sitting on the ground when a call demands out an answer in a loud, commanding voice, and a rushing of a pair of feet running over to push Karl off you.

Asher punches Karl right in the face, throwing him off you, before demanding the guards he has with him to hold the man back.

“She provoked me!” Karl argues like a child in a kid’s play.

He’s never been abruptly stopped before. Always angry, never satisfied.

Nothing is ever enough when it comes to the two of them. 

Karl landing hurt through his fists and weapons and anything he can get a hand on. Your father landing hurt through his commands, watching and watching and watching.

And you, their victim, who has to stay down and accept it all until there is a small amount of satisfaction that calls at them to stop.

You always wait on that call, no matter how much endurance it takes.

“That doesn’t make it right to lay your hand on a woman!” Asher retorts with anger laced in his tone, and this anger, despite how different it is from that of Karl’s, still shakes you violently though you keep as still as ever, paralyzed.

Paralyzed.

Even when the anger does not fall on you, even when he does not turn to you but towards the companion who stands behind you, who had stood still this whole time. “And what are you doing? Your boss was getting hit and you just stood there?”

Yeonjun, with a snap on cue, kneels over to your side and looks down at you with widened eyes and a frozen expression. He doesn’t touch you right away, cautious, but you see what those eyes mean, you know exactly what that expression is telling you.

That he, too, had reverted back to the past.

When your father still lived, when he had to stand by and watch everything without moving a muscle.

He reverted back just as you had.

Two little kids, who're still affected by the traumas of the past.

Two little kids.

You take Yeonjun’s hand, giving him the permission to touch you, so he helps you back onto your feet and the two of you remain in silence as you walk off with his help, not daring to look Karl in the eyes, not caring to reply to Asher.

But you feel yourself trembling with the presence of a pair of eyes boring right into your back. Not from Asher or Karl or the two guards but from someone else.

The ghost of him.

Of that man.

That man named father.

.

.

.

“Y/N?” There’s concern in Jungkook’s voice when you walk into the room and you guess that’s probably because of the state you’re in, but right now you can’t entertain him so you simply hold a hand up, asking him to stay back, and Jungkook, though worried, leaves the room on your behalf.

When you’re left alone with Yeonjun, you let your legs give in to sit on the floor rather than finding a chair or taking a seat on the bed.

The floor is comfortable. It’s always been more comfortable.

The boy takes your heels off, along with your jacket, and despite the sting of the pain that aches over your body, the only thing on your mind is the fact that you let it happen so easily, that you allowed yourself to walk back into that state of being an obedient and perfect little doll.

You reverted back to the damages just when you thought after father’s death, you wouldn’t let anyone walk over you anymore.

But it isn’t easy.

It isn’t easy.

And it will never be easy.

Father still lives in your head rent free and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter how much time has passed, nothing will change. It’s already been a little over a year since his death but he’s still here, still thriving, mocking you, taunting you, controlling everything that you are.

You’re shaking, trembling, not just out of fear but out of anger. Angry at yourself. For being so weak, for reverting back, for thinking things could get better.

And with Yeonjun the only one here with you at the moment, you lean into his touch and let yourself into his arms to allow the sort of warmth only your Reapers can provide you.

Yeonjun’s heartbeat won’t be the same as Mingyu’s, it’s probably even beating rapidly right now, so you don’t let your ear rest against his chest and instead wrap your arms over his neck and climb into his lap to lay your cheek against his shoulder.

Yeonjun brings his hand over to rub down your back but he’s a little awkward and unsure because he’s never really had to do this; comforting you. It’s always been Mingyu, and if Mingyu wasn’t there, it’d be Yuna, and if Yuna couldn’t do it, it’d be Dasom, or someone else.

Anyone else.

He’s only a kid after all, just eighteen years old, the youngest of your Reapers, but because no one else is here, he does his best to pick up the role that’s been given unto him.

Yet you feel him tremble slightly himself and you guess that in some way, he must be afraid as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I didn’t…I…”

You know what he’s trying to say, that he failed you, that he couldn’t protect you. But can you really blame him? Because just as you’ve been trained to endure through the pains and take everything that’s given unto you, Yeonjun, the Reapers, were trained to stand by and watch.

Habits are scary.

Frightening.

And because you don’t know how to console him and he doesn’t know how to console you, the two of you remain in silence simply holding onto one another.

Just two little kids having to rely on each other.

Just two little kids.

And after a little while, when things have settled a little more, when he starts shaking a little less, Yeonjun gathers himself and forces himself out of the state he’s in.

He stands up and you watch him leave for a second, not too long, because he rushes, and returns with materials in hand to begin tending to you. It remains as quiet as ever between the two of you, but you see the way his brows furrow in concentration and he stops himself from staying in the mindset of a teenager.

Of a child.

He becomes an adult, a reliable adult. For you. Applying what’s needed on the bruises that have swelled up, wrapping your arm with bandages, and when you frown with disgust at the sight of the white wrapping on you, wanting it off, complaining, he doesn’t fall into your trap and stands his ground just as he’s seen Mingyu do plenty of times.

Yeonjun gets frightened of you at times but he always listens to your every command and does all that you ask him within a heartbeat, but today he grows a pair of wings and knocks you lightly on the head with his knuckles when you try to push him away, when you get stubborn with him.

“Do you want to die?” You glare at him but he doesn’t give in.

“You can kill me after I treat you,” he says and continues his ministrations.

“I hate it,” you tell him. “I don’t like it, this…this white.” You try to scratch at yourself but he grabs your hand before you can and your face scrunches up with anguish. “Get it off me.” 

You tug the pearls on your neck and it scatters onto the floor but you don’t care and move on to the white dress, yet Yeonjun stops you once more.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were.” And because he knows the signs, because he’s seen it plenty of times in you, he grabs the sleeve, rips it, then the hem of the dress, and tears that as well without doing too much. “See? Look. Imperfect.” You hate perfect things and seeing that, the tears of the dress, alleviate a bit of your drumming heartbeat, so Yeonjun grabs a pair of scissors to start cutting off bits of your dress.

All your life you’ve been told to be perfect, that everything you do must be under the command of your father. He made you into his perfect little doll, his perfect little weapon, prepared you for the battlefield, prepared you for war.

For the war that he brought, for the war that was his.

Or rather, he was the war itself.

You are a weapon, and weapons do not weep. Weapons are used and weapons do not run off on their own. Weapons are perfect, they fire at the command of their owner, they’re silent when told, and left to waste if they do not do their job.

You’ve never wanted to be left to waste, you’ve never wanted to be dropped back into an empty room, the White Room, and never picked up again.

“I look broken,” you utter a whisper as if shocked at the image of yourself when you look down at the mess of your dress and the white bandages on your body. Your brows are knitted, teeth grinding on each other, fingers dug into the skin of your palm, eyes red but as always, they refuse to cry.

Because weapons do not weep.

And Yeonjun, for a second, almost panics, thinking he did something wrong, but in Mingyu’s wise words, “Just because it looks like I know what I’m doing when it comes to boss does not mean that is the truth. It is far from the truth. There are times when it feels like I’ve messed up, times when I’m about to panic because she responds differently from what I imagined, but you cannot ever show her that you do not know what you’re doing. Ever. Just pretend when you’re in that position, and if you’re good at pretending, she won’t know a thing,” Yeonjun quickly pulls himself back up.

“You don’t look broken,” he puts the scissors down and takes your two trembling fists. “You look imperfect.”

You look imperfect.

Imperfect.

It does the trick.

He sees the way the crease between your brows starts to soften, how your clenched jaw loosens, the way you let him help your fingers unravel from the strength they held digging into yourself, and how your shoulders fall a bit from being so hunched up.

“I look imperfect?” You ask him, eyes wide and puppy-like, darting right to him and though they shake slightly, they look towards him for an answer, for reassurance, to detect any lie, to seek for the truth. But also pleading, also begging for him to say just that.

Even if the lie must disguise itself as the truth.

“You do,” so Yeonjun lies skillfully. “You look imperfect, boss.”

There’s a breath of relief, quiet and subtle, and it comes in a whisper just barely there. Yeonjun keeps you close and presses a palm to your chest, just where your heartbeat strums.

“Now count,” he tells you. “Mingyu says counting is good, right? Count until he gets here.”

“Is he coming?” You ask when he takes both your hands to take over where his palm once lay.

“Yes,” he lies again. He hasn’t made the call yet. “Soon.”

“You have to stay here.”

“I will.”

“No one can come in.”

“I know.”

“Don’t talk to him, don’t let Karl anywhere near me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m tired.”

“Alright, come here.” He pulls you in carefully into his lap, in his arms, and you let yourself be warmed and comforted in his arms once more, this time with your back pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you tell him. “The nightmares…they’ll come. He’ll come. He’ll visit. And he’ll try to make me perfect all over again.”

He. Your father.

“I don’t want to be perfect.” It isn’t a command, it’s a plea. A desperate cry for help.

“Then don’t sleep. But count the heartbeats, yeah? Count.” The soft lure of his voice, gentle, encouraging.

With hands still pressed against your chest, you let your ear tune out everything else in order to hear the beat of your heart so that you can start counting them.

One. Two. Three…

It’s fast and you know that you can’t completely count every individual one of them but you try your best to simply concentrate on only that while your eyes stare out at the window a few feet away. The sun shines brightly from the opened curtains and there’s a small little bird perched on the closest tree.

It jumps onto a branch and rests there with its head moving about in different directions.

There are pretty white clouds up above and one of the bigger ones shapes like a castle and you imagine fairies up there, hiding.

There’s another cloud that looks like a cat and another one shaped like a ghost.

The wind blows and your eyes turn back to the bird that flies off.

Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…

It’s slowing down, just slightly.

.

.

.

“I heard what happened this afternoon.”

Kiwi keeps you distracted as he nibbles with your finger. You can’t recall when he’s decided to hang around you rather than his own master whenever you’re around but at least it gives you a reason to not look someone in the eyes.

“Would you like to tell me what happened from your perspective?”

Thirty-something years old. You can’t even remember just how old you are but lately, it hasn’t mattered in the slightest because you feel much younger than what you actually are. Like you’re twenty-something. Even a teen. It doesn’t feel like you’ve aged much.

Your birthday hasn’t been celebrated since your time at the Bangtan manor but it doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters.

Because you feel like a kid back under the control of your father, having to do what you’re told, obeying his every command like someone who can’t do anything on her own.

Under scrutiny.

“What did Karl tell you?” You pop a question of your own, eyes still unfocused, mind still trying to pretend you’re fine, that you’re okay in a room full of strangers.

There’s only one stranger but a stranger nonetheless.

“He said you provoked him.”

“That’s right.” You don’t deny it and instead nod, expression blank so that Alexander cannot tell what’s going on inside your head. And maybe he does, maybe all of this faking is futile because he’s so wise, but you don’t care. You keep still, you keep vague, and you remain cold.

“Is that so…?” He trails off, perhaps thinking, and you can feel his eyes never leaving you. “And what was it that you did to have provoked him?”

“I told him something he didn’t like.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I killed his best friend.”

“And did you?”

“I did.”

“And who was that?”

“My father.”

He pauses, perhaps because he hadn’t expected that answer but you’re sure he’s thinking back on the moment when you first mentioned your father to him. The “story” you gave him was that your father passed away and was a good friend of Karl’s, though you never mentioned anything else about it. 

And now here’s the answer; you killed him yourself.

“Is that why you let Karl do what he did?” He asks you. “Because you thought you deserved the punishment for what you did? Some people may not regret their actions but they’ll let the person most affected do something against them. Was that how it was?”

No.

No, not at all.

You didn’t let Karl hurt you because you knew he’d be hurt by what you did. You didn’t let him hurt you because you thought he at least deserved to lash his anger out on you. Or that you felt bad. Or that you wanted some sort of punishment. Or that you were repenting.

You let Karl hurt you because you’d always let him hurt you, just as you’d always let everyone hurt you.

Because that was how it always was.

A habit.

Being the weaker one, being the one who would chant the words endure, endure because that was what was instilled in you from the moment Mister Butler died. You cannot get out of your habits that easily, you do not just get stronger because you vow to yourself you will.

You don’t just get stronger and you certainly don’t just decide ‘I won’t let anyone step over me anymore’ and succeed on the first try.

Or the second try.

Or the third.

Even the tenth or hundredth time.

You let Karl hurt you because you were used to it and your body, remembering how it always was before your father died, returned to those habits.

The habits of staying still, the habits of enduring all that came at you.

“Yes.” But you lie because what else is there to say? You lie because there is nothing else to say. Because you don’t want to tell the truth. Because the truth means explaining and explaining means opening up and opening up means trusting and trusting never ends well.

You lie because you have to.

“That is all there is to it.” You put Kiwi down onto the floor and stand up straight, making sure to look in the old man’s direction with your hands held together in a formal stance. “Karl’s story is the whole truth. I deserved what he did, for killing his best friend, for killing my father.”

His brows are furrowed and you sense doubt in his eyes but because he has no proof and because you’re not willing to share anything else with him, he can’t push you too hard about the matter. “Whether that is the truth or not, do you really think a man much older and bigger has the right to hurt a woman younger and smaller in stature? No–” he fixes his sentence, “do you think a man is in his right to hurt a woman?”

“A man is capable of hurting anything that he wishes to hurt. He is in the power to do so.”

“You are strong, Y/N.” He stands to meet your eyes, serious, calm, and collected, but there’s a little twitch in his brows to indicate that he feels a bit frustrated by the situation. “You are capable of dodging his attacks. Even if a man were much bigger and stronger than you, you have the brains to outsmart them. You don’t look like someone who will easily let someone else step all over you.”

No. You are exactly just that. You are still the little girl you thought had changed. You’re still weak.

“So I’ll ask you again, Y/N; why did you let Karl hurt you?”

You hate feeling caged in and right now, despite the fact that only Alexander stands in this room, you feel eyes from all over. And maybe that’s just you being paranoid, maybe you’re just making it all up in your head, but you hate every bit of it. 

Every bit of this.

“I gave you my answer, take it with a grain of salt. Do not pretend to be on my side.” And with that, you turn your back to him and walk off without another word.

Alexander doesn’t chase after you but you feel his eyes.

It’s ironic the way you’re supposed to be the one trying to gain his favor and yet this happens; you pushing him away and putting up your walls. And Asher makes sure to remind you of that.

“Isn’t the whole point of you being here to gain his favor?”

He stops you in the middle of the hall when you’re heading back to the guest room.

“Why?” He asks, genuinely curious, maybe even with a bit of genuine concern in that tone.

“Maybe I’m tired,” you say in a quiet voice.

“Of?”

“Of trying to be likable.”

He hums, considering the answer with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the wall. “And that young bodyguard of yours,” he brings up Yeonjun, “he may be a kid but don’t you think he deserves punishment for failing you?”

“No.” You reply easily and Asher raises a brow.

“You won’t punish him?”

“I don’t blame him.”

He watches you as if you were a strange being, like you weren’t making sense, though there’s a bit of unease that marks his features, some sort of disturbance that troubles his thoughts and you realize that you’ve said too much so you start walking again.

“My people aren’t allowed to act unless I tell them to.”

But Asher doesn’t want to leave it with just that. “You wanted my uncle to hurt you?”

“Nobody wants to get hurt willingly, Asher.”

“Then what is it?”

You’re talking too much.

“It is none of your concern, that’s what it is.” With that, you pick up your steps and walk into the room before he can push you any further.

Jungkook is in there when you walk in, and although being left in a room with just him should trigger some sort of response, surprisingly you don’t tremble that easily and perhaps that’s due to the fact that somehow, in some way, your body just knows that Jungkook doesn’t pose any threat to you. Perhaps because somehow, in some way, you’ve learned to put some trust in him in just the slightest way through the times he’s spent acting as your guard.

It’s been a little over a month.

Mingyu came here prior to your meeting with Alexander and surprisingly you didn’t need him as much as you thought you did. You think that’s because Yeonjun managed to calm you down well, despite his perpetual fear in the beginning. He picked himself up in time, after all, and was there for you by mirroring what Mingyu would have done.

Maybe in some ways, your right hand man has trained all the Reapers in how to respond to you when he isn’t around.

He took Yeonjun away for something, though right now you aren’t too concerned about it.

“..Kook.”

You feel tired, you feel drained, and that’s why you’ve managed to only call Jungkook by a shortened name.

He’s responsive at the first call, despite how quiet your voice is, and when he sees that you’ve given him permission to come in close contact with you, he doesn’t hesitate to walk over to you.

“Do you need something?”

It’s odd the way you feel some sort of relief he’s as responsive as he used to be all those years ago. Maybe because a part of Jungkook will always remain the way that he always was, maybe that’s why you’ve learned to associate him with a figure that you can put a bit of trust in.

“When are they coming?”

“They?” He tilts his head and when you reach a hand out towards him, he takes it in order to help you because you feel your legs are weak in the knees.

“Namjoon. Them.” He takes you to the bed so that you can lie down.

“In a month or so,” he replies. “You said as much time as you need to gain Alexander’s favor but the latest would be in a month.”

You’re already winning so what’s the point in waiting? 

It’s been a month, over a month.

You just want to go home already.

“Can you call him?”

Jungkook looks for his phone. “What for?”

“Tell him to come earlier,” you say, body turned over towards him, cheek against the pillow, eyes drowsy. “In a week. I don’t…Karl has…I want him dead.”

For a second his thumb hovers over his phone to look back over at you and there he finds, the little girl he’s seen holding her walls up so high not even a plane can cross over, beginning to crumble in just the slightest way.

You look exhausted.

The makeup does not hide the bags under your eyes, it doesn’t hide the exhaustion, how drained you are over all of this. And maybe a part of that is due to your insisting to stay awake when you needed sleep but a big part of it is the mission itself.

Every mission is a little different from the other, but Jungkook has come to know that every one of them involves someone who has sucked all that sweet girl energy out of you. They’ve all done you wrong and it can’t be easy. It can’t be easy having to face all of them one by one, trying to deal with it all, trying to rid of them, and ultimately as a result, hurting yourself in the process.

“Kook?” Your eyes went closed for a second but upon his silence, you open them up again in order to look up at him, and due to your exhaustion, he finds the pretty girl he once loved all those years ago with the smallest voice as if calling out for him in a sense of help.

“I-I’ll call.” He’s flustered, slightly, but hits the call button with his thumb and walks towards the bathroom. “Stay awake, alright? I won’t be away for too long.”

He closes the door behind him to start looking around for something just as Namjoon picks up on the other end.

“Jungkook?”

“Y/N wanted me to tell you to come earlier.”

“Earlier?” It’s surprising on his end because just the night before, you told him to stick to the original plan. “Did something happen?” Of course something must’ve happened for you to change your mind so quickly.

In some ways you’re just as stubborn as he is, so he knows you aren’t someone who will change your mind that easily.

“This afternoon, uh…” Jungkook hesitates, not sure if it’s okay to relay him the news but something tells him you probably expect Jungkook to not stay silent about it to the boys. They share everything with each other after all, and if you really cared, you wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you after what happened. “Karl, you know, after touching her when she felt uncomfortable?” He did mention the incident a few weeks ago to Namjoon already. “Well, Y/N took up his invitation to tea in order to catch up and stuff and I assume she pissed him off.”

Somehow, Namjoon expected that. After all, you hinted at doing something reckless during your call with him. 

“I’m not sure what happened exactly because I wasn’t there but Karl hit her.”

“What?” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “What do you mean hit her?”

“Not just once. She has bruises as a result.”

“Bruises?”

“I should get back to her, she might fall asleep but I’ll catch up with you later.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon’s reply before cutting the call off and returning to your side out of worry that leaving you alone for too long won’t be good, and the fact that you might have actually fallen asleep on him.

Surprisingly you’re still awake, though your eyes are as droopy as they were when he left you.

“Can you turn over on your back?” Is the first thing he asks of you and you obey, turning over. The bed dips a little when he takes a seat beside you and that’s when you feel he begins to take your lashes off.

“You know there’s a lot of processes that go into taking off makeup, right?” You tell him when he takes the other one off.

“I know, bub, I’ve done it before.”

Right.

He’s helped you before.

“So just stay still, yeah? You don’t have to do anything.”

You listen to the lure of his voice, as soft as the way he used to speak to you all those years ago, and let your eyes close as he begins to swipe the makeup wipe over your face. It’s gentle the way he does it, almost as gentle as Dasom, and although he’s a little clumsy and isn’t as fast as she is, he does his best during it all.

When the makeup wipe is done, you feel your hair pushed back and a band coming over to keep it out of the way, then some sort of cloth on your chest and tied behind your neck.

Warm water walks over your face. Bits of it, not too much, not too little, so that you don’t get too wet anywhere else, and then the feel of soapy foam begins to rub in circles all over your face. The massage feels nice and you almost feel your consciousness slipping away but you keep awake to the touch of Jungkook’s hands.

About a minute later, he soaks a washcloth into water and starts to wipe the cleanser off you so that you don’t have to sit up and wash it off with water yourself.

It takes a moment but eventually, he gets it done, and then you feel a wet cotton pad swipe over next.

Something about all of this, the steps he memorized either for you from the past or the fact that he now does it himself regularly, feels rather domestic and just…soft.

And in your sleepy and tired state, you feel anything but uncomfortable, lured in with the feeling of basking on top of clouds with your head bathing under the warm sun with light little pitter patters of rain sprinkling over you.

You don’t know why you enjoy this so much despite how different it feels from when Dasom does it for you, but knowing that your trust is beginning to leak outside of Reapers somehow brings a sort of comfort you never thought you’d feel.

It’s a little frightening because trusting is always scary, especially for people that had once broken it, but for some reason, it just…feels right.

Somehow.

And maybe that’s because you know they were never at fault in the first place, that they were just forced into making an unwanted decision. 

Jung Hoseok would probably be in the same position as they were were he to realize the truth all those years ago. If he hadn’t gotten hurt on that mission. If he hadn’t been forced to lay on the infirmary bed in order to recover. If he hadn’t stood away from the six of them.

Even still, as you’ve said it plenty of times before, just because someone doesn’t mean them doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

In the safe space that they provided you, you were kicked out of your own comfort and forced to return to the hell you thought you had escaped.

“Why do you not cry?” His voice keeps you awake and when you look up at him through your lashes, eyes feeling quite dreary and heavy, he finds himself pausing in his ministrations as he stares down at you who’s looking up directly at him.

“Why do you ask that?” You return a question, voice just as soft.

Jungkook’s eyes trail down your face. “Karl…he…” he didn’t see what happened but the aftermath of it is right before his eyes. “And Leehyun and…..” He presses his lips together. “You have..so much to cry for.”

“...Do I now?”

“Is there nothing left?” He asks, a hand brushing back small strands of hair that tries to block your eyes.

You don’t nod because you’re too tired to move so you nod through a blink. “It’s all dried up.”

From the water that he used to clean your face, a drop falls from your lash and trails down your cheek, mirroring what a teardrop looks like, and then you say, “But…if I knew how to cry……do you think you deserve to see them?”

He doesn’t reply but you have your answer.

He doesn’t feel worthy.

This Jungkook and the Jungkook you once knew long ago are the same in the way they always feel unworthy of something. No matter how many times you can assure him, he will always think there is something he can do better, that he is undeserving, that he can never be enough.

But unlike idiots who simply say “I don’t deserve you” and go about their days after breaking your heart, Jungkook says it and steps up to do what he can to try and prove to himself that he can be someone deserving.

He always did all that he could and when there came a point when he looked as if he could finally come to terms with being at peace with his love for you, it was ripped away from him all too soon and now he’s back to square one, trying to prove himself.

Even if it isn’t in the form of love.

Jungkook will always care.

But even still,

“I still hate you.”

It comes out soft, it comes out quiet, and a little timid and a little brave, but you hadn’t meant for it to come out.

If you were wide awake, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable state, you would have never spoken those words to him. But because your consciousness is on the verge of slipping away, you speak them out loud for him to hear.

“I know.” And he replies in the same voice, the same softness, quiet, and timid, and brave.

He doesn’t leave your side even after those exchanges uttered unto each other and you fall asleep next to his presence, next to his comfort, next to his warmth.

.

.

.

Jungkook wasn’t there when Taehyung said he witnessed you sleepwalking but he said that it wasn’t the sort of sleepwalking you’d see in a normal person. He said you looked like a ghost more than anything, and that at times, you’d just stand still in the middle of the room and not move an inch.

No, not a ghost. A corpse.

And now here he is, after endless refusal to sleep and finally allowing your eyes to stay closed, he witnesses what Taehyung had meant.

A corpse standing still in the middle of the room, blanket over her shoulders, eyes staring up at the dim sky outside the window, blank and without any hint of life in them.

He watches you from a distance, a furrow in his brows, with his tongue bitten back and his fists clenched by his side.

Subtle anger lies in his heart, brewing, not at you but towards the world that has made you into the sort of person you are today. Or maybe it had always been this way, maybe you had always been hurting and he just never noticed, maybe it was always like this all along and maybe, perhaps, they made it worse when they left you all alone to fend for your own self.

Feeding you to the wolves.

He’s angry not just at the world but at himself and Jungkook knows that if the truth were to ever leave your lips about what actually happened to you, about all the things that you’ve gone through, he knows that this hatred he feels right now is only but a small fraction waiting to build up before it all breaks into the tiniest little pieces.

Shattering in the way he had broken you.

Shattered.

The world can only do so much but he encouraged it by standing by, by letting it all fall down onto you, by letting himself be convinced that you’d be fine, that everything would be alright.

But nothing turned out alright.

In the days and months and years that followed your absence, they returned to how things were, returned to loving one another, accepting one another, forgiving one another. But in those days and months and years, he can only imagine what sort of events you had to face.

While they had each other, while they always had each other to lean on, did you have anyone by your side?

The Reapers may be one thing, supporting you and giving you their utmost loyalty, but did they ever hold power over the things that happened to you in the way Namjoon could have handled it? In the way he would have handled it?

“Y/N?” You don’t answer him when he calls out to you but he expected that so he walks on over to where you’re standing.

You’re as still as ever, and he approaches with a careful, watchful gaze, hesitant when he reaches a finger over to you. 

A small touch to the blanket, just over your shoulder, and when you don’t freak out or move away from him, he puts two fingers. 

Then another.

Then another.

And when you don’t react to his hand, he proceeds to place a hand on your head and press it towards his chest.

You don’t resist.

“Come on, let’s head back to bed, yeah?” And understanding that you’re okay with him even in this lifeless state of yours, because he knows your body is capable of telling the people you trust and don’t trust apart, he puts his other hand under your knees and picks you up to carry you over back to the bed.

You comply well with him despite your unresponsive self, and when he tucks you back in with the blanket pulled over your chest, he looks back to see your eyes staring straight toward him. Empty yet lonely.

Vacant.

Not at him but through him, and his heart aches a little at the sight.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispers. “You’re alright.”

If Hoseok had been here, would he have been able to do a better job looking after you?

Jungkook wishes he could have been better.

#bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly au #bts ot7 x reader #bts polyamorous #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts mafia au #mafia!bts #bts mafia #bts mafia!au #bts poly!au #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts poly relationship #bts arranged marriage au #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[colormepurplex2]

Till Death Do Us Part | MYG

▻ Till Death Do Us Part ↳ Hitman Yoongi x Kidnapped f.Reader ⤜ Mafia/Arranged Marriage AU ⤜ Enemies/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 41,132 ⤜ Summary: Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.

⚠️ This story contains violence, death, dub-con & non-con elements, heavy degradation, knifeplay, blood, and mild gore descriptions. Smut: breeding kink, sub/dom, restraints, biting/marking, oral. Virginity loss. Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1:  We End How We Began, Covered In Blood

Chapter 2:  Enigmatic Decisions of The Heart

Chapter 3:  Enemy of My Enemy Is My F̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ Lover

Chapter 4:  Epilogue: Body, Mind, & Soul

Story is complete.

Part of the Bangtan Writers HQ August 2022 “I Hate You, I Think” Writing Event.

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Master List   ©️ 2022-08-30 ColorMePurplex2

#bts fanfic #bts #bts yoongi #bts smut #bts mafia au #bts reader insert #bts enemies to lovers #bts dark au #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #kinky yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bangtanwritershq #mafia yoongi #bts arranged marriage au #yoongi arranged marriage #bts angst #min yoongi

[reikives]

July BTS Fic Recommendations

note from sunie:

For my first few lists I will be posting, it wont really be just for the current month but a few are also some of my favorites from a few years back that I really want to share!

I also want to say thank you, to all the authors who have put in hard work to create these pieces of literature for us to enjoy!

I hope everyone enjoys them as much as I did! You can also send in recommendations in my asks which will always be open! I will try my hardest to keep up!

🌸- fluff 🥀-angst 🌹-mature/suggestive

📖-drabbles/oneshots

📚- series 📝- ongoing ✔️-completed

Yoongi

📖>Kale’in Me Softly (@jimlingss)

Farmer!Yoongi, strangers to lovers 🌸, 🥀(has a little sting), 🌹(mature scene) Word count: 17.1k Summary: After your grandfather's passing, you decide to take over his farm and plant the trendiest vegetable: kale. It's a struggle to be in the countryside when you've always been a city girl. But there's someone less than sympathetic — a grumpy farmer across the acres who's constantly trying to pick a fight with you. Warning/s: Strongly implied smut

—I love their style of writing! I think this fic was v cute and the heat in that one scene was a great sprinkle🤭 Its a great read and I highly recommend!

📖>Bloom (@guksthighs)

hanahaki au, best friends to lovers 🥀,🌸 Word count: 1.7k Summary: When you fall in love with your best friend, flowers begin to bloom. Hanahaki disease - an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. Warning/s: its kind of a tear-jerker but not to worry, its ONLY a tear-jerker there will be knowing flowing of tears (hopefully) <3

—This is actually a read from a few years back that I still come back to once in awhile. I have kept in my notes to remember! I absolutely love guksthigh's works and I think they're beautifully written!

📖>VALUABLES (@drowsymochi)

Established relationship 🌸 Word Count: 306 Summary: “they don’t mean anything to me.” Warning/s: teeth-rotting fluff, Yoongi is so sweet I might consider it an angst from how he makes me cry bc he.

—super cute quick read omg, I abs loved it, makes me want to have an s/o..

Namjoon:

📖>Who are you? (@ausblack)

Hybrid!Namjoon x Hybrid!reader 🌸, 🥀 Word count: 3.4k Summary: A mysterious hybrid that reeks of suppressants catches Namjoon, the wolf hybrid. He's determined to find out what you are. Warning/s: mentions of drinking and smoking, insecurities

—I love this so much! Made me feel a bit fuzzy from how cute this is. Ausblack has been one of my favorite readers when I first got into tumblr a few years back! I recommend their works!

📖>Cut (@chimchimsauce)

Soulmate au, College au 🌸, 🥀 Word count: 1.1k Summary: Namjoon always hated soulmates Warning/s: implied sex and of drinking/smoking (?)

—I love soulmate aus and I absolutely love quick angst reads! Its so good and I come back to it from time to time! I recommend it to all esp if you love quick reads!

Jimin:

📖>Adonis (@xjoonchildx)

Paramedic!Jimin x reader 🌸, a little comedy Word count: 3.4k Summary: your crackpot of a neighbor will not rest until you throw yourself at the gorgeous paramedic in town. she’s nuts, y'all. Warning/s: smoking, sexual innuendo, implied smut

—Very cute and funny fic to read, it was written nicely! I recommend to those who would enjoy a little comedy when they read.

Taehyung:

📚✔️>Camellia (@kinktae)

Prince!Taehyung x Herbalist!reader 🌸, 🥀(if you squint), 🌹(mature) 2/2 Summary: Prince Taehyung comes to find out that the castle has got a new tea girl, and man is she cute. Warning/s: insecurities, smut in 2nd chapter

—I read this a few years back and I still come back to it once in awhile because its well written and I just love the story. This actually got me to love royalty / prince/princess aus and its so cute it hurts.. Super great read! I very much recommend 🥰

📖>Playful (@chimyoung)

Owner!Taehyung x Hybrid!reader 🌸, 🥀 Word count: 3.6k Summary: A mischievous and energetic fox hybird causes an accident in the living room that sets off her boyfriend. Warning/s: lil bit of angst, swearing, couples arguing, Taehyung is a meanie, mentions of blood/injuries, nothing too graphic, there’s a mean guy in a park, that’s about it.

—Ahh its a cute readdd. It has some angst that stings but the fluff balances it out in the end. I've also read a few other of their works that I think that's worth checking out!

Jungkook:

📖>in which you always come home to Jungkook. (@onlyswan)

Established relationship 🌸, lowkey 🥀, 🌹(suggestive) Word count: 3.7k Warning/s: mention of the word whore, boner, showering together

—Its a perfect mix of everything! I've always loved her works and this never disappoints. Its a sweet read if you just want something chill (in my opinion). Highly recommend their work 🥰

📖>Still With Me? (@magicalmarauder)

Boxer!Jungkook, established relationship 🌸, 🥀 (it stings a bit..) Word count: 4k+ Summary: Dating the world’s fastest growing boxer meant several things – kissing his wounds at the end of every fight, watching countless boxing matches to study new techniques with him, and worrying like crazy as different men every night tried to bash his face in. But what happens when tensions run high after a match and Jungkook throws your support back in your face? Warning/s: definitely violence bc boxing, mentions of bruises/wounds, koo was an ass for like 5 seconds

—I am a sucker for anything boxer Jungkook so 😝😝 It stings in a few parts of the story but there is some fluff that act as a band aid do not panic 🙅‍♀️ Nicely written, I love it so much I've actually read it a few time hehe ❤️❤️

📚📝>Quarters (@justoneday-namjoonii)

Boxer!Jungkook x IceSkater!reader 🌸, 🥀 9/? Summary: A look into the dysfunctional relationship of Jungkook, an aspiring boxer, and an aspiring Ice Skater. Warning/s: mentions of abuse, dysfunctional relationship, angst might be triggering to some

—Another boxer!jungkook because I am abs inlove with boxer koo. This is a nice read if you're in angst w just a sprinkle of fluff or like fics w a rollercoaster of emotions!

📖>The Habits of a Broken Heart. (@softykooky)

Soulmate au, subtle enemies to lovers, slow burn, art student!Jungkook x english student!reader 🌸, 🥀 Word count: 26.3k Summary: Jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.

alternatively,

“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.” Warning/s: jealousy, unrequited love, shouting (?(please bear with me i dont really knw what to put in warnings yet 💀))

—I think I've read this about 5 times already ahhh.. Its so goooooddd, the angst really hits you.. it made me cry every time but the ending makes up for it. I love how well written this is, its a lovely fic to read 💗💗💗

📖>How Long Will We Fall (@jiminrings)

Soulmate au, painful f2l, unrequited love (at first) 🌸, 🥀 Word count: 14k Summary: If it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why Jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it. alternatively,

Jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

—Another angst soulmate au bc I love hurting myself hehe, I love how this was written, I love the character development, I love the angst, I love this..

Poly/OT7

📚✔️>Hybrid House (@hollyhomburg)

Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!reader 🌸, 🥀, 🌹 (mature) 3/3 + Epilogue Summary: to Seokjin, Home consists of his human partners Namjoon and Hoseok as well as their Hybrids; the pups- named Taehyung and Jimin, their black cat- called Yoongi, and their foxboy- called Jungkook. Together they have the happiest family possible, everyone loves everyone equally. 

So what happens when Namjoon finds you? a cat hybrid, beaten close to death left alone in an alleyway on the coldest night of the year? He takes you home, shows you his family, and together they teach you what love can be like. Warning/s: mentions of blood/injuries, abuse, heavy smut scenes, Jungkook being mean for a bit

—I have been a fan of their work for a long time already and I think this is among one of my favorite works of theirs. Its's very well written and I recommend this to those who have hybrid aus up their allies. Great author, great work ❤️

📖>Sugary Sweet (@hollyhomburg)

Hybrid! Reader x Hybrid! Taehyung x Hybrid! Yoongi x Owner! Namjoon 🌸, 🥀 Word Count: 10k Summary: Namjoon has a perfect life once he moves out of the city to a cabin alongside his two rescue hybrids, Yoongi and Taehyung. But then one night in the middle of the rainstorm they find you, a bunny hybrid, hiding in their chicken coop.   Warning/s: Anxiety attacks, Anxious! Namjoon, mentions of hybrid abandonment, hybrid mistreatment, Half of this is Domestic fluff, possessive behavior. 

—Another great hybrid read from hollyhomburg!! Very cute and has some angst to spice it up, it pulls on the heartstrings just right❤️❤️ I actually have read this a few times, I'm one to come back to something if I really enjoy it. So again, amazing work, this is actually my favorite from them ❤️

📚📝>Cry Me A River (@minniepetals)

Mafia!au, arrange marriage!au 🌸, 🥀 13/? Summary: Forever is just an illusion, nothing lasts forever. Don't make me a promise that you cannot keep. Please... it'll break my heart. Warning/s: (triggering topics! please read at your own discretion) childhood trauma, mental abuse, physical abuse, child neglect, manipulation, gaslighting, violence, mentions of assault, implied sexual assault, hurt and comfort, divorce, emotional neglect, minor character deaths, kidnapping, some emotionally unstable scenes.

—AN ALL TIME FAVORITE OF MINE. First, I abs love mafia aus and I love angst. CMAR was written beautifully,,, perfectly. It has me crying and screaming all over the place. You can feel the emotions as you read this series, that why I love it so much. It's so angsty I love it. Minnie does a great job in writing this that I always earn for more every other chapter, IM COMPLETELY HOOKED. The attention to detail is just amazing and she also listens to the readers, I love her sm.. Great read, I absolutely recommend cmar.

—If anyone has noticed, there are no Jin and Hobi fics on my recs as of the moment, its because I have yet to find jin and hobi fics that suit taste! Please do recommend some fics and authors in my asks if you have any recommendations! I will be reading them when I have time!

I will try to post recs weekly if I am not busy. Maybe I'll just post when I can and then have my monthly recs!

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts imagine #bts series #bts mafia au #bts college au #bts established relationship au #bts slow burn #bts comfort #bts arranged marriage au #bts f2l #bts soulmate au #bts e2l #bts unrequited love #bts fic #bts royalty au #bts hanahaki au

[star-my]

Vixen ~ Chapter One

➼ Pairing: Park Jimin x OFC (Shin Ara)

➼ Length: 5.7k

➼ Rating: pg-15

➼ Content: Arranged Marriage AU, CEO AU, Mafia AU | TW: Medical Issues (resolved), Mentions/Discussion of Human Trafficking (not by BTS or SKZ members) | JK is Ara's BFF and bodyguard and Best Boy; Bangtan and Stray Kids are mafia; think Kitty Gang Jimin; flirting and fluff; multiple ARMY and STAY easter eggs sprinkled throughout (I welcome comments detailing which ones you caught); author does her best to beat the Wattpad allegations and fails miserably, which is funny because she went straight to ao3 and skipped the orange app phase

➼ Many thanks to @kookthief @moonleeai & @yoongiobsessed for betaing this chapter<3

➼ Taglist (Open): @bangtan-famiglia-net @kookthief @otome-wandering

➼ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of BTS, SKZ, or any other K-pop group mentioned in any way beyond the face and name claims the author made for this work.

➼ Chapter Two (14/10/23) ➼ Chapter Three (15/10/23) ➼ Masterlist ➼Ao3

The door to the opulent room swung open soundlessly, allowing the tall, muscular man to enter unnoticed. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the young woman seated at the vanity.

“Your father has requested your presence ASAP. When will you be ready?”

The woman glanced up from her careful application of sparkly gold eyeliner.

“Give me five minutes, Kookie! Is he home?” She moved towards the walk-in closet across the spacious bedroom.

“He’s at the office. I’ll bring the car around, then.” The woman’s bodyguard –but first and foremost her friend– left, and she began the process of accessorizing.

Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up to the tall office building in downtown Seoul, the headquarters of ShinCorp.

As the heiress of ShinCorp, Shin Ara was immediately escorted to the CEO’s office and served tea by the secretary.

“Appa?”

Secretary Kim set the tray on the coffee table, leaving father and daughter to their meeting.

Ara glided gracefully over  to warmly hug her father. “Jungkook told me you wanted to speak with me about an urgent matter. Is something wrong?”

Shin Jungok sighed, lowering himself onto the sofa across from his only child. “No, nothing is wrong. What has my beautiful daughter been accomplishing lately?”

Ara crossed her legs, smoothing her ruffled swiss-dot skirt over her knees. “I’ve been looking at property for my gallery. Other than that, I’ve been rather quiet. You’ve been busy with work, so I haven’t wanted to disturb you, Appa.”

Jungok smiled. “You are such a respectful child, Ara. Yes, I’ve been occupied with work. I just finished a meeting with the new CEO of Park Group.”

“Oh, their former CEO died recently, didn’t he? His son took over, I suppose? Awfully young to be CEO,” she mused.

“Yes, he’s only twenty seven, but he has a good head for business. We’ve never partnered with the Park Group before, though a contract was once drawn up between us. I guess he’s trying to show the board he’s capable despite his youth.” 

“Maybe he’s capable because of his youth,” Ara arched her brow at her father.

Jungok took a long sip of his tea. “Ara, are you seeing anyone?”

She blinked at the non sequitur. “Uh…no? I’ve been busy planning my gallery. I haven’t had time to date.”

“Park Jimin asked for your hand in marriage,” Jungok stated simply.

Ara stared. “What?”

“Will you at least think about it? I’m sure he’ll take good care of you and be a good husband to you, and if we make this partnership, he’ll be more solidly accepted as a businessman. You know I’m getting older, and ShinCorp will stay in our family when I retire. I am proud of you for following your own path, and a little pleased that you do not want to take over ShinCorp, but I want to make sure you are taken care of.”

“May I see the contract?”

Jungok handed her the portfolio, and she read through it carefully. “Will ShinCorp go to Mr. Park or to our children?”

“Mr. Park will have a share and your children will receive the rest. Until they come of age, you and he will have joint control over the company,” Jungok explained. “I know you don’t want to be CEO, but we must take caution in this day and age. I know you will make sure ShinCorp is run according to our mission statement.”

Ara hummed an acknowledgment and flipped over a page.

“Do you have Mr. Park’s number?”

Her father looked up in surprise. “Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you, Ara!”

“I know, Appa. I accept his proposal.”

“Well, I believe he left his card…” Jungok moved to his desk and shuffled through some papers. “...here!” He handed it to Ara.

“Er…the marriage is best announced and signed on sooner rather than later.”

Ara barely glanced up from creating a new contact in her phone.

“I’m aware, Appa,” she said briskly. “Will next Saturday work? I saw the perfect dress when I was out shopping with Unnie last week. I’ve been planning my wedding since I was a little girl, Appa.”

It was Jungok’s turn to stare at her. “In just over a week?”

She smirked. “Money is king, is it not? I’ll get everything done in time.” She patted his shoulder on her way to the door. “Leave it to me.”

~~~

Twenty minutes later, Ara slipped into her car. She clipped the seatbelt in, and Jungkook took off. 

“You’re looking at the future Mrs. Park Jimin!” she announced cheerfully.

“What?!” Jungkook swerved, then corrected the car.

“I’m marrying Park Jimin next Saturday if that works for him.” Her phone pinged. “Speak of the devil. ‘Yes, Saturday is perfect. Thank you for accepting my proposal. I am sorry it is so short notice and businesslike,’” Ara read aloud. “He sounds decent. Good.”

“He’d better be more than decent,” muttered Jungkook darkly, turning a corner smoothly.

Ara cooed. “Aww, are you worried about me? You’re the one who trained me for my black belt in taekwondo.”

“It’s literally my job, Ara!”

“I know, but still…Anyways, can you drop me off at the Whalien Cafe so I can meet all the girls at once?”

“Sure. Should I come in?”

“If you want. Have you ever tried their special 52 Hertz menu item? It’s sooo good.”

“No, I haven’t. I’ll come to crowd control your friends and try it while I’m there.”

“Wise choice.”

Ara and Jungkook walked into Whalien Cafe and ordered, then joined the five girls at two squished-together tables. Ara’s friends and unnie updated her on their lives since she had seen them last, then Ara dropped her bomb.

“Will you be my bridesmaids next Saturday?”

There was a beat of silence, then complete chaos erupted.Once they calmed down, she explained the situation. They immediately agreed to be her bridesmaids and began planning.

Ara explained her vision, then sat back as the ideas ran wild. By the end of the afternoon, she had a list of her favourite suggestions and a promise from each of her friends to join her the next day for dress shopping.

The friend group had met in college, except for Ara’s unnie, Kim Sihyeon. Sihyeon was the cousin of Jungok’s PA, Seokjin, who Ara viewed as an older brother.

Ara’s mother died in a car accident when Ara was eleven and Jungok immediately hired Ara a bodyguard-chauffeur. Jungok had Jungkook befriend Ara and trained him to become her new bodyguard-chauffeur when he was old enough. The other four members of the friend group were Jennie, Rose, Jisoo, and Lisa. They’d all been dorm mates in college and were quite close.

~~~

After a light supper, Ara spent the evening reserving things and purchasing necessary items for her upcoming nuptials.

Her phone dinged with an alert. Curious, she turned from her laptop and tapped on the message.

PJ: You’re certainly very organized! I was honestly expecting a month at best. I have people working on a story of how we met earlier. Here’s a link to the rough draft. Make whatever changes you want.

Inquisitive, Ara tapped on the link to the document, a professional publicist’s work, of course. It was well-written, if a little sensational, but she frowned at the extra drama sprinkled in, such as their coincidental meeting in Italy in the spring and their secret romance (none of which she recalled).

SA: Why do we need an article? Do you need this for appearances? *I* don’t mind being ‘just a business marriage’. It is a good story, though:)

PJ: I thought you would want it to seem as normal as possible. You are quite intriguing, Miss Shin.

SA: Good;) Let’s just release a formal announcement stating we’ve decided to get married. The media really doesn’t need anything else.

SA: I have the place and time booked for the reception and ceremony. Is there anything you’d like me to add, like family traditions?

PJ: Whatever you like. I will be giving you my halmeoni’s ring, if that’s alright with you.

SA: Of course! One final question…pink?

PJ: It’s a decent colour?

SA: 👍

A light knock echoed from the heavy wooden door, then a man popped his head into Jimin’s private office.

“Hey, Boss, there’s a box from your fiancée.”

“Bring it in,” the man behind the desk ordered. 

He carefully opened the box and lifted out a pastel-pink silk tie. The paper inside read, “I hope this hue of pink is a decent enough colour to wear to our wedding. If this is satisfactory, text me and I’ll send over the rest for your groomsmen. Black suits, please. ~SA”

Jimin smiled a little at the slightly wonky smiley face Ara had drawn beside her name and carefully replaced the tie.

PJ: It’s perfect. Thank you.

A woman all in black walked purposefully into the old warehouse. Several men and a few women were working busily in the large space, barely looking up at the click of her heels.

The door to the private rooms built into the warehouse swung open with the slight squeak of a hinge needing oil.

Gold eyes scanned over its occupants.

“Where’s Hyunjin?”

“He’s restocking the medical room since he got his new supplies,” answered a man with vermilion hair, stretching from his slump over a computer.

“Thanks, Chan.”

A tall man with long black hair popped out of a side room. “You called, Boss?”

The woman nodded shortly, clapping her hands for attention. “You all know that since Park Wonshik died, Bangtan’s been targeted. Well, the head of Bangtan had a brilliant idea to partner with the Grays, business-level and gang-level, through marriage.

“The head of Gray’s daughter is marrying Park Jimin on Saturday. The other mafia will find out tomorrow. With Bangtan and Gray united, the mafia  looking to take over Bangtan may set their sights on smaller game, so we need to be prepared for any backlash against us.

“Minho, you figure out if the others are planning to attack anyone. Hyunjin, find out how much Bangtan has on Stray Kids. Everyone else, get ready for an attack, worst-case scenario.”

“Yes, ma’am!” saluted the eight men in unison. They turned to their tasks, leaving Chan to approach the woman.

“Vix, you sure about this?”

Vixen’s blood-red lips curved in a smile. “Don’t worry, Channie. I have everything under control and I have plans for every variable, just like oppa taught me.”

Chan sighed. “Alright, then. I trust you, Vix.”

“Boss, here’s the file on Shin Ara you wanted.”

“Thanks, Hoseok.”Jimin took the file and flipped through it.

Good grades, though they slipped the year her mother Aeri died; friendly but only had a handful of close friends- four girls she met in college, four of her father’s employees, and one ex-boyfriend, Lee Minho, whom she was still friendly with. Graduated high school and college with honours, has an arts degree in photography, and had recently purchased a building on the edge of downtown Seoul for a gallery.

Who are you, Shin Ara? Why did you so readily agree to marry a stranger?

Jimin mulled over the possibilities, staring at her picture on the screen before him.

Another knock on the door roused him. “Sir, it’s time for your suit fitting.”

~~~

Jimin looked eagerly at the doors, waiting for the first glance of his wife face-to-face.

The audience stood as Ara strutted down the catwalk with a grace only a girl who had been bred in high society could achieve.

She took his hand, her fingers gripping his tightly. Her hand fit perfectly in his. A whiff of her floral perfume wafted through the air. Her very presence seemed familiar, though Jimin figured that could be from the hundreds of texts they had exchanged in the past eleven days.

Kim Seokjin was officiating at Ara’s request; it seemed to Jimin that he spoke slowly on purpose, taunting him with the veiled face of his bride.

Finally they reached the vows, and Ara’s grip on his hand tightened momentarily.

Jimin slipped his grandmother’s ring onto her finger, admiring the sparkle that seemed right. The three red garnets bookmarked by tiny diamonds suited her.

Ara slid the gold band on his finger, a little shock running up his arm from where she touched him.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“...You may kiss the bride,” announced Seokjin.

Jimin carefully lifted the veil over Ara’s reddish-brown hair, careful not to mess up her hairdo, and met her eyes with a smile he hoped wasn’t too eager.

Her eyes locked on his, a hint of a smile in their mahogany depths. He smiled back, placing his hand on her cheek, his thumb cupping her jaw. The steady beat of her heart pounded under his thumb as he dipped her slightly, the crowd cheering in celebration.

With a wink at her surprised glance, he swept his thumb over her lips, pressing his own to his thumb.

Seokjin gave him a minuscule nod that he caught out of the corner of his eye. No one else appeared to have caught the faux-kiss, thankfully.

Jimin really didn’t want to have to explain to his teasing brothers that the big, bad mafia boss didn’t want to scare his new bride away.

Sihyeon straightened the train of Ara’s Alexander Wang dress and handed her the bouquet of pink ranunculus. Jimin extended his arm, Ara looped hers through his, and they swept down the aisle.

Jungok caught his eye on the way by, “Don’t forget your promise,” he mouthed.

The promise, in Jimin’s copy of the contract– Jungok’s only stipulation.

Do not let Ara find out that you or I are in the mafia.

Ara was a total Daddy’s girl, only idolizing him. He didn’t want to break her heart, tell her that her appa wasn’t all she’d thought he was.

Jungok had been secretly overjoyed when she had come to him, saying she wanted to study art, not business to prepare for inheriting ShinCorp. It was much easier to hide the fact that he was the don of the Gray mafia, one of the biggest in Seoul.

Jungok could leave ShinCorp to his Head of Strategy, Kim Namjoon, who would run the Grays as well, and Ara would be none the wiser.

Jungok’s one wish was to never crush his little girl’s world of gold and pink and glitter and peace.

Yes, he had insisted she learn a martial art and have a bodyguard, but many CEOs’ families had more protection. Aeri’s accident may have truly been an accident, but after he failed to protect his wife, he vowed to make sure Ara would always be protected.

After the luxurious reception, the Parks drove to Jimin’s home and base of operations, codenamed Cypher. Jimin drove them himself- Ara had brought Jungkook with her but given him the night off, and he was hitting it off with his new colleagues and Jimin’s friends/groomsmen, Kim Taehyung, Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi, Choi Soobin, and Choi Beomgyu.

Jimin pulled the bulletproof SUV up to the steps and sighed in relief. None of the other mafia or gangs had attempted anything, and Bangtan was now officially allied with Gray; the gangs pressuring and testing him since his father’s death should relax now.

He leaned his head against the headrest and looked over at Ara. Oh, right.

“So…it didn’t seem quite right discussing it over text, but where should I put your things? I have a suite prepared for you, or you can have the master bedroom, whichever you’d like…”

Ara smiled a little at his awkwardness, masking her own. They hadn’t exactly had the time to discuss the finer points of married life, beyond the ‘getting married’ point.

“I think the suite would be best for now, although I am looking forward to getting to know you better, and I hope we can make this relationship work.”

“I do, too.” Jimin pulled out his phone to text the housekeeper to move the rest of Ara’s things to the prepared suite . “You looked beautiful, I meant to say that earlier.”

“Thank you. Er- did you dye your hair to match the colour scheme? I wasn’t expecting that level of cooperation.”

Jimin chuckled, getting out of the SUV and stretching to relieve the lingering awkwardness. “No, that was a coincidence. I’m glad it didn’t clash with the colour scheme, though. When you asked about suits and colours all I could think of at first was, ‘Oh no, what if she wants one of those ultra-modern black-and-white weddings’ or something.”

Ara’s light laughter floated through the crisp night. “Don’t worry, I like colour. Photographer, y’know?”

“I was really impressed by how quickly you got everything prepared.” He paused, debating on broaching the subject now or later. Curiosity won, and he plowed ahead. “Can I ask why you agreed to marry me so quickly?”

Ara shrugged, bending over to pull off her sparkly pink Louboutins. “You needed a partnership with my father’s group. Appa would have a beneficial business agreement with your company. I would like to be a wife, and in the future, a mother. I’ve never had a long-term boyfriend or anything…all the chaebol heirs are too old, too young, pricks, immature, or just not my type. I confess I did a little stalking of you, and Appa approved of you. Even if this was a business marriage, he would never suggest a man who wouldn’t treat me well. And you saved me the time and stress of introducing my boyfriend to my family and waiting to see if the verdict would fall in your favour or not,” she shrugged again. 

Jimin nodded, fascinated by the peek into Ara’s brain. “I hope that, at the very least, we’ll get along as friends. Would you like to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’m free. What time?”

~~~

Ara settled into her very comfy bed and pulled out her phone.

SA: 2:00 p.m. tomorrow

KS: Done so soon?

SA: Shut up. 2:00, be there or don’t.

KS: Got it. I’ll be there.🙄

At 1:55 p.m., Ara descended the stairs of her new house, ready for her date. Her peach tunic dress hugged her curves and fell to her knees, complemented by her chunky brown leather heels, gold jewelry, and an oversized burgundy purse.

Jimin had just pulled the car up, and his jaw loosened a little. “You look stunning!”

Ara blushed, pushing a loose curl behind her ear. “Thanks, you look pretty nice yourself.”

Jimin wore his loose white suit well, his plum shirt complementing his peachy-pink hair.

The car ride to downtown Seoul was filled with quiet chatter as the newlyweds got to know each other better.

Jimin pulled up to an art museum and got out, heading quickly to Ara’s side to open the door for her. She took his arm, and he let her tell him all about the art and curation as they toured the museum.

“Abeoji first took me to a museum when I was six, I think? I really liked it and begged Eomma to take me back. I just kept making my parents take me to museums until I’d seen them all, and then repeated it. I tried drawing and painting, but I wasn’t very good at them and didn’t want to put in the hours of practice to attempt to be good.”

They strolled along to the photography section, having gone through the traditional paintings and sketches.“Photography caught my attention when I was ten or eleven…Jungkook had taken up photography as his hobby, and he let me try sometimes. I really loved those times taking pictures and decided that’s what I wanted to do as a job, not run ShinCorp. Appa was surprisingly accepting of my decision, but he’s always spoiled me a bit,” Ara laughed.

“Jungkook, as in, your bodyguard?” Jimin asked curiously. “He couldn’t have been much use when you were ten…he’s only a bit older than you, right?”

“Oh, Kook wasn’t my bodyguard till he was eighteen. We grew up as childhood friends since my eomma’s accident. He’s from Busan, but he was kidnapped and trafficked around the time of my mom’s accident. The police rescued him and some other children when they broke up the ring of gangsters that had been trafficking kids,” explained Ara, pausing in front of a photo of a field of wildflowers.

“Jungkook was an orphan, so one of the policemen who’d rescued them fostered him. He was Appa’s friend, and they thought it would be good for both of us to have a companion.”

Ara turned to see what Jimin thought of this revelation. He was frowning at the floor, one hand in his pocket. Running his other hand through his hair, he exhaled. “That must have been tough.”

Ara nodded. “He doesn’t speak about it much–sensitive, you know? Oh, and you don’t need to worry about…anything between us,” she added hesitantly. “We did have a crush on each other in high school, but we realized we’re better off as friends. There’s no competition.”

He raised his head to smirk at her, pushing his hair back one final time. “So, there’s a chance of winning your heart?”

She smiled back, lifting her lashes flirtatiously. “I’d say there’s a good chance.”

“Shall we go for dinner, then?”

“Sure, I could eat. Could we try this new French restaurant nearby?”

“Whatever you want, milady. What’s its name?”

“L’Domino. Main floor of the Star Lost hotel,” Ara pointed down the street to a tall building several blocks away, visible from the museum parking lot.

“Ah…I’ve heard of that place. Let’s go, then!”

The maitre’d heard their names and immediately showed them to a table. Dim lighting, but not so dim you couldn’t see what you were eating, opulent fabrics and the quiet instrumental soundtrack gave the dining room an atmosphere oozing exclusivity. Jimin pulled out Ara’s chair for her, then sat opposite her.

A black-suited waiter approached, his chubby cheeks lifted in a smile. “Good evening! My name is Jisung; I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a beverage?”

At D9, Vixen’s HQ, Chan picked up the phone, halting its first ring. “Chan.”

“Christmas, it’s me. Have Park Jimin’s hacker find Jeon Jungkook’s file of his kidnapping. Shin Ara told him about it; he’ll be suspicious.”

“Got it. Did Seungmin make the drop?”

“The goods are in position. I’ll contact you later for news on our plans, I just wanted to give you a head start on the file. Vixen over and out.”

“Thank you for the lovely date, Princess. I enjoyed getting to know you. Perhaps we could make this a regular thing?”

Jimin opened the front door, and Ara stepped into the low-lit foyer. “Thank you. I had a lot of fun, and ditto,” she returned. “Making this regular sounds lovely.”

Jimin inhaled and pushed further. “Would you like to have breakfast together in the mornings if I’m not at the office early?”

“I’d love to. What time do you normally eat?”

“Quarter to eight. Does that work for you?”

“Sounds perfect. See you tomorrow, then?”

“See you then. Sleep well,” he called after her, already halfway up the stairs.

“You as well. Goodnight, Jimin.” Ara entered her suite, all done in pastels with gold accents. It was either a strange coincidence or someone had been talking (she bet it was her appa), but it was very similar to her room at home.

She headed to the ensuite to begin her nighttime routine, replaying the whole date with Jimin.

She had expected maybe dinner or an outing, but not the entire afternoon and evening. It was lovely, but she wondered if Jimin would face any backlash over spending so much time off work. It was crucial he maintained a flawless profile in the first months of being appointed CEO, Ara was enough of a businessman’s daughter  to know that. Their marriage was, in part, to help stabilize his takeover, and she didn’t want to be a hindrance.

He was a perfect gentleman and quite attentive. She’d miss his company, but she’d make sure their next date was a little shorter. By their first anniversary, he should be able to spend more time with her again.

It’s not like she was expecting love and him to wait on her hand and foot, even if she did hope they’d grow to genuinely care about each other. Time flew by, anyway– she’d survive a few months without his constant presence. Resolved to broach the subject at breakfast the next morning, she crawled into her comfy bed and replayed his every action again.

He was too perfect. She’d find his flaw sooner or later.

Jimin tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desk and sighed. Finally, he pushed a button and asked for Jungkook to be fetched.

Minutes later, Ara’s bodyguard stood at attention in front of him.

“You’ve known Ara since you were eleven?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were adopted by Jeon Jeonghwa, an officer in Seoul’s police department, Organized Crime division?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ara told me you were kidnapped from Busan and brought here by traffickers, till you were rescued by your adoptive father.”

Jungkook nodded.

“You became her bodyguard at eighteen…you’ve trained in martial arts for twelve years?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Shin insisted Ara and I take self-defense lessons, and I wanted more.”

“You know who Shin Jungok is? Who I am?” Jimin leaned back in his chair, studying Jungkook.

“Yes, sir. Head of the Gray Gang and the Bangtan Family.”

“Does Ara suspect who we are?” Jimin narrowed his eyes. The million-dollar question…or maybe, billion-dollar, considering the revenue estimated to be brought in by this alliance.

“No, sir. Mr. Shin wants her to know nothing about your other business. He’s made sure she knows nothing.”

“Tell me if she ever mentions anything about it to you, please. Thank you for your time.”

“Yes, sir. Also…there was never really anything between us. We’re like siblings, sir.”

Jungkook left, and Jimin resumed his finger tapping, staring at the spot where the man had stood.

Time went by, and the newlyweds fell into a routine. They would have breakfast together four times a week when Jimin wasn’t ‘at the office early’. When he came home, they would have dinner, either trying out a new restaurant or one of Ara’s home-cooked meals. 

Cooking was her hobby, and she enjoyed experimenting with various cuisines and fusions.

Mrs. Lee, the housekeeper, let her have free reign of the kitchen, a feat not easily achieved.

The long-date problem was solved by the compromise of several shorter dates. Once a week, Jimin would take Ara on a coffee or lunch date, the short distance between Ara’s gallery and Park Group’s buildings coming in handy so they could stretch out their precious minutes together. 

Ara had almost finished setting up her gallery and excitedly shared her plans for the opening and all the organizing she had to do. Jimin was bemused by her enjoyment of organizing things and creating organizational systems, imagining if she knew about his secondary business and how she’d whip everyone into shape. He had no doubt that she would be a force to be reckoned with if someone got into her path. Grinning at the mental image of Ara siccing Jungkook and maybe his own men on someone standing in her way, he realized he was smiling like a loon and quickly smoothed out his expression.

Just in time.

His secretary knocked on the door and poked his head in. “Sir, the dress was delivered. However, Mrs Shin has not opened it yet.”

With a fond smile, he rolled his eyes. She was probably busy focusing on the networking for the ball tonight.

For all her love of order, she could be so scatterbrained and distracted sometimes. Her suite was a disaster when she was getting ready to go out, and she was always leaving something behind somewhere. Maybe it should have annoyed him, but it only endeared her to him more. She wasn’t completely perfect, something that reassured him to no end. Perfect people were too good to be true, something that made him suspicious of Ara and Jungkook in the beginning.

At first, he’d only spent so much time with Ara because he wanted to know what she was hiding behind that girly-girl, society and gilded mask, but as they became closer, he realized she truly was that good-hearted; not shallow at all, but she didn’t shy away from being the cliche chaebol princess.

Her openness drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He had so many secrets. What was it like to just be who you are, unapologetically? Not worry about what people thought of you?

Jungkook was similar to Ara, probably because they’d been practically attached by the hip for over a decade. He’d quickly proven himself to Jimin’s closest circle, and as Mrs Shin’s guy, he was quickly welcomed to the inner ranks. He gave Jimin good advice about how to deal with Ara, which Jimin truly appreciated, and he was always down to join Jimin in a workout or spar.

Even Hoseok, Jimin’s Head of Security, approved of Jungkook, a difficult achievement.

By the second month of the contract marriage, Ara and Jungkook were permanent fixtures in the Bangtan Family’s life, and it seemed unthinkable that anything should happen to them. They were Parks now, and it seemed like they always had been.

Jimin knocked on Ara’s door, fiddling with his garnet cufflinks while he waited. The thick carpeting muffled her footsteps, and the door swung open unexpectedly.

His jaw dropped.

The form-fitting red dress had a sparkling corset bodice, laced up tightly to emphasize his wife’s curves, and a hint of thigh winked at him from the slit in the gauzy skirt.

Diamonds glinted from her ears, between fluffy curls he wanted to wrap around his fingers.

Shin Ara looked every inch the mafia queen she was, even if she didn’t know it. 

Jimin’s gaze slowly slid down to her strappy gold heels, then back up, making Ara blush.

“You look wonderful,” he said, extending his hand.

“Thank you.”

~~~

Jimin proudly escorted his wife into the high society, clandestine mafia ball.

Jungok spotted them arriving and came over to greet them.

Every two weeks, the entire group of Gray and Bangtan’s inner circles came together for dinner. Jungok had been at their mansion two days ago, yet he acted as if it had been two months.

“Hello, my beautiful daughter; Jimin. You look so much like your mother,” Jungok stared wistfully at Ara. “Speaking of, when will I get my own grandchildren?”

Blushing furiously, Ara thwacked her father’s arm. “Appa!”

“What? I’m an old man, I want to see my grandchildren before I die.”

Ara scoffed. “You’re so dramatic, Appa; you’re not that old. Anyways, how’s your new secretary doing? Has he learned anything yet?” she grinned, recalling her father’s exasperated rant on the secretary’s new structuring and organization tactics earlier that week.

“Yes, Seungmin just needed some time to learn the ropes; he’s quite bright. When will you have your opening night?” Jungok switched the topic.

“Next month, the twelfth. I’m so excited!”

Jimin chimed in with a chuckle, “It’s all she’s been focused on for a while now.”

Ara glared playfully at him and swept off for some punch. 

Rejoining the men, she saw her father grip Jimin’s wrist tightly and speak lowly into his ear.

“Appa? Gwaenchana?”

“Just a little thirsty,” Jungok said thickly. Ara quickly passed him her punch and watched in horror as it spilled all over the front of her dress, the cup crashing to the floor moments before Jungok.

“Appa!” Ara stared at the sweat gathering on his forehead, at the light, fast breaths he was taking as he weakly tugged at his tie to loosen it. 

"Call an ambulance!" She demanded of no one in particular, crouching beside him in worry.

Jimin dialed the emergency line quickly and waited for the ambulance to come. Jungkook rushed over, checking Jungok’s pulse and loosening his collar and cuffs, rolling him onto his side.

The EMTs arrived and transported Jungok to the hospital, sirens blaring as they sped through the streets.

Ara nervously twisted her fingers in her lap, her gaze fixed on the flashing lights directly ahead of them as Jimin followed the vehicle carrying her father.

Finger twisting was joined by impatient pacing in front of the row of chairs as she awaited any news.

After what seemed like hours of pacing under the glaring white lights, the doctor who’d taken her father approached.

“Mr. Shin is stable but unconscious right now. He had a heart attack. Do you know if he had any of these symptoms lately?” the doctor rattled off a list of concerning things Ara wished she knew about.

She shook her head helplessly. “I-I don’t know. I just got married recently and moved out- I’ve only seen him briefly…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jimin wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, returning from making calls to his secretary, letting her know that he wouldn’t be in the next day. “You didn’t and couldn’t know– that’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault; it’s just a fact. Your dad is stable now. It’ll be okay, yeah?” His hand rubbed soothing strokes up and down her arm. “Ara, you’re cold.” Shrugging his coat off,  he wrapped it around her like a hug.

“We’d like to run some tests on Mr. Shin, just to make sure he’s okay besides this issue,” said the doctor, eyeing her sympathetically. “Could you come to my office to sign some papers?”

Once everything was finally sorted out and she had seen her father, reassured that he was going to be okay and there was nothing for her to do at present, Jimin took her home and sent her straight to bed.

Tucking her in, he smoothed the comforter over her shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “He’ll be okay, Princess.”

“Thank you for everything, Jimin.” She blinked up at his shadowed profile.

“Of course. Get some sleep.” His finger brushed her cheek, then she heard his light footsteps head toward the door and the quiet snick of the door closing.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to sleep. Its comforting embrace welcomed her swiftly.

#bangtanwhq #bangtanfamiglianet #group: bts #group: skz #type: fic #author: star-my #series: vixen #chapter: 1 #au: mafia #au: ceo #au: arranged marriage #tw: medical issues #length: 5-6k #tw: human trafficking #star scribbles

[tae-cup]

Bury Me | Masterlist

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “Someone who loves you wouldn’t do this” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 A/N: Okay. Let’s give this Mafia AU another shot so everyone can please stop reading my old mafia fic that is just terrible and i’m so sorry Other: Masterlist

Chapters

0. Teaser

1. A White Dress

2. Skyline Stars

3. Ruins

4. Caskets and Gold Roses

#yoongi x reader #bury me #mafia au #bts mafia #bts mafia au #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi #mafia yoongi #arranged marriage au #pg-13 #arranged bts #angst #fluff #mafia yoongi x reader

[ckkookie]

HMM?

TOPIC -when your mafia husband gets jealous

Part 6

She slowly sneaked her hands around my neck. I felt satisfied knowing that now finally my crack head is having some real sense. Finally I was having her as a women otherwise she's always like a cute but scared ambivalent teenager around me. I broke the kiss as I felt her breathings getting heavier. She was breathing heavily as I was really rough. I nuzzled in the crook of her neck while she was catching her breaths "so now you finally know how to act like a woman" I teased her She frowned "what do you mean? I always act like a woman! I AM A WOMAN " She protested "yeah a woman. I saw how you puffed your little chest today to act like a WOMAN " I chuckled in the crook of her neck" " um w-whatever i didn't wanted to walk like that. YOU ASKED ME TO WALK LIKE THAT " I suck her neck. She hissed and moaned "aah.!" "when did I asked you to walk like that hmm? "I said still nuzzling in the crook of her neck. " you yourself told me to act like a WOMAN for god's sake!"

"oh my sweet y/n ! I asked you to act like a woman. I never asked you to walk with puffed chest. Did I ? " " whatever!! I don't have a little chest."

" Well...how would I know I mean you never showed me your ches -" She cut me off by hitting my chest while I groan fakely. She rolled her eyes. I quickly lift my head and trap her between my arms. "did you just rolled your eyes at me ? " I asked while squinting my eyes at her sharply. She looked nervous but only for a second. She raised her brows at me. I widen my eyes at her sudden developed courage. But soon that amazed face turned into a wide smirk. "Very Bold, aren't we?" I spoke but her next move made me shook to my d*ck. The damn woman pulled me through my tie and pecked my lips. I was stunned for a minute but then when I saw her blushing I smirked. "Uh-huh.... the audacity my love you've! So bold and so shy at the same time hmm?" She pursed her lips trying to hide her smile. I leaned in and kissed her once again. We were savouring each other's presence when suddenly, Jimin: Y/N WHERE ARE YO-OH MY MY!!! we both flinched on the sudden shriek. She suddenly pushed me forcefully making me stumble back and collide with the cold wall against us making my head hit the wall. Jimin: OH MY SORRY SORRY! PLEASE CONTINUE !! I'LL TELL UNCLE TO PREPARE ANOTHER PARTY FOR THE UPCOMING MEMBER!! DONT WORRY TAKE YOUR TIME. JUST MAKE A CUTE BABY !! the rat's short tail blabbered some useless nonsense while covering his eyes and turned around and left. Y/n was still in shock while I was groaning and rubbing my head. The wall is damn hard. Thank god I didn't pushed y/n earlier a little more harder,Otherwise god knows what could've happened. I was thinking when, (gasp) "j-jungkook...a-are you fine. Are you okay. Is it hurting." She asked coming towards me. Now she noticed me after a whole decade." Are you hurt?" I glared at her "NO! How can I be hurt! How can anyone be hurt. See this wall its so soft that I enjoyed it. I just want to hit my head once again on it" I uttered angrily. She pursed her lips tightly "S-Sorry....j-jimin came so-" "so he's more important for you now....even more than me" I spoke with gritted teeth and glare at her sharply. " yes...huh....N-No....obviously no- " her sharp naughty tongue slipped again. Great. "I see. Well I don't care. You owe me a whole nigh---- "I mumbled my last words with a smirk but - "yeah yeah....i'll get you the medicine ." I looked at her back in PURE disbelief as she spoke and turned away to leave. Does this woman even listens to me? "what the--- JEON Y/N !!! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW !!! " I shout frustrated. She quickly strolled back to me with the same fast pace she turned to go. She stood in front of me. I deeply looked in her eyes while holding her chin "YOUR PRETTY MOUTH WILL PAY TONIGHT DARLING "

This was the last part hope you've enjoyed this short series 💌

#bts jungkook #established relationship #bts fluff #ceo jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #mafia au #mafia jungkook #jungkook husband au #jealousy #husband jungkook #arranged marriage

[alltheficsiveread]

Sunflower by jonghyunslisterine

Rating: E

Pairings: Yoongi/Jimin

Word Count: 95,623

Jimin's parents tell him he's getting married to Min Yoongi.

Everything changes.

#yoonmin #abo au #arranged marriage #mafia au #bts

[bts-0t-7]

BTS | MYG | FIC RECS

This list is probably one of the longer ones cause sheesh... I'm a sucker for cats 😭 I hope you'll enjoy the fics as much as I have and don't forget to tell the authors how much you've liked their work!!

Have some spices 😌...

Three Tangerines, @kithtaehyung (smut, brother's best friend, implied age gap au)

Illicit Favours, @yoongiofmine (Fluff, tiny angst, smut, non idol au. Friends to Lovers)

Oh, Darling!, @yoongiofmine (Series, fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, university au)

Predator, @liveyun (gangster au, smut)

Apricity, @liveyun (arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers)

Petals, @yoonia (parenthood au, fluff)

The devil wears Valentino, @orchidyoonkook (One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut, Fluff)

Sugar, @zehakoo (strangers to lovers, neighbours au, fluff, smut)

Peaches in bed, @borathae (Smut, married life!AU, domestic!AU)

Yoongi's Lullaby, @jiminrings (unrequited love friends to lovers soulmate au)

Snow Blanket, @yoonieper (friends to lovers, fluff, smut)

A Wager of Lords and Love, @hisunshiine (regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst)

By The Time I've Figured Out What It's Worth, @ugh-yoongi (est. relationship, marriage au, angst, smut, fluff)

Bad Things, @yoonia (Brothel!au, Street Fighter!Yoongi, Escort!reader)

Close Call, @xjoonchildx (smut, mafia AU)

The Little Things, @kth1 (Smut, 21+, Slice of Life, One Shot)

Sweet Morning, @7ndipity (slightly suggestive, implied smut, implied drinking, swearing)

Shy, @7ndipity (smut, unprotected sex, soft dom-ish Yoongi)

Hello Soulmate, @bluemari23 (soulmate au, soulmarks, fluff)

Celestial Ruin, @remedyx (Fantasy, Angst, Smut, Corruption)

Carnal Desires, @explicit-tae (smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, grinding, finger sucking)

Moonlit Throne, @hobidreams (smut, angst, fluff)

Desolate, @angelicyoongie (angst, fluff, eventual smut)

The Perks of Being a Househusband, @sunnebeam (marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi in his stay-at-home hubs era)

Give It To Me, @ki-yomii (smut, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), praise kink, dom!yoongi, established relationship, pet names)

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi series #min yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff

[rainbinni]

BTS ff recommendation

Part 2 of the best BTS ff I’ve read so far. Please go check the author account to support them. Let me know your best ff so I can read it ;)

Part 1 right here

!! All of those stories content strong and mature language, please do not read them if you’re under 18 !!

Series :

A little bit in love whit you - @joonbo [1/3] ongoing (fwb, college au, smut, angst, potential fluff)

One shot :

New parent syndrome - @1kook [9.5k] (dilf!namjoon, married couple, parents, fluff, smut)

Subdued - @1kook [5k] (established relationship, smut, fluff, rapper!namjoon, sub!namjoon)

Don’t read the dead languages - @sailoryooons [17k] (e2l, smut, bit of angst, fluff, supernatural au)

Drabbles

Distraction - @bangtanintotheroom [3.3k] (fluff, smut)

An affair of the art - @raplinesmoon [1.3k] (fluff, bit of angst, parents!joon and oc)

One shot :

Knocked - @sailoryooons [?] (rommates au, f2l, fluff, a bit of angst, smut)

Drabbles :

Drunk over sober - @personasintro [4.3k] (part2)(e2l, mention of alcohol, little angst, fluff)

One shot :

The feelings slow to fade - @taleasnewastime [26.7k] (e2l, angst, fluff, smut, horror au, mention of blood, paranormal)

Kiss me more - @mosaic-opine [7k] (arranged marriage au, smut, angst, fluff, idiot2l)

Drabbles :

Helping hands - @kooksbunnnn [3.2k] (rommates2l, smut, fluff)

Escapism - @yoonlattesworld [?] (exes2lovers, kind of fake dating, mafia!yoongi, cheating au(not by yoongi tho), angst, fluff, smut)

One shot :

Helping hands - @m-yg93 [6k] (best friend2l, smut, campus au)

Series :

Menace - [2/2] (serie of drabbles) (brother best friend!jimin, smut, angst, e2l, ewb)

Drabbles :

Cut me deep (and sew it up) - @cutechim [only one part for now] [6k] (angst, smut, a little bit of fluff if you squint, mafia!jimin)

Desperate - @ressjeon [3.8k] (model!jimin, assistant!oc, smut, f2l)

Foolish fools - @jjkeverlast [701] (fwb, a bit of smut, fluff)

Lucky you - @jjungkookislife [2.9k] (established relationship, smut, fluff, tattooed!jimin and oc)

Welcome home - @minisugakoobies [6.2k] (coworkers au, fluff, smut)

One shot :

Not that good - @taleasnewastime [20k] (ons2l, s2f2l, smut, fluff, angst, college)

Drabbles :

It’s sweet - @here2bbtstrash [4.3k] (fwb2l, 100% fluff)

Washed on - @ressjeon [6k] (college au, frat boy!tae, smut, a bit of fluff)

Fireworks - @minisugakoobies [556] (part2) (neighbor au, fluff)

Series :

Blackout - @jjungxkook [3/3] (best friends2lovers, roommates, untold feelings, smut, angst, fluff, college au)

Stay with me - @jungk0oksthighs [14/14] (exes2l, divorced, young parent, co-parents, unexpected pregnancy, angst, fluff, smut)

How many - @yoon-kooks [6/6] (series of drabbles) (college au, fluff, s2f2l, tattooed!jk, tattoo artist!yn)

Paired and Pierced - @yoon-kooks [6/6](series of drabbles)(college au, smut, classmate to lovers, tattooed!jk)

Rough Edges - @kjhmyg [16/?] (Ongoing)(college au, mafia/gang au, bad boy!jk, smut, fluff, angst)

Ego season - @sparklingchim [3/4] (college au, fwb2l, fluff, smut, angst)

Drabbles :

After last time - @cherrygukki [4.3k] (smut, bit of angst and bit of fluff, ons, rich!jk)

Stay quiet for me - @vminizzle [0.9k] (smut, a bit of fluff)

Formule 1 - @taexoxosgf [3.4k] (smut, fluff)

Stardust - @euphoricfilter [5.5k] (best friend2l, fluff, smut)

#bts x reader #bts recs #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #fanfic

[wooyoong]

🧸 freya's recent bts reads (& recs)

disclaimer : there's atleast one fic for each member, but i am yet to widen my spectrum, so you will find less vmin + jin fics. that also doesn't mean i don't like reading them, lol.

note : fic titles labelled with a * mark are series. minors please stay away, strictly. almost all fics here are 18+ !!

— also, i am @sugarwithtea 😭 incase you wanted to check out my writing blog then.

KIM SEOKJIN

* 9 months to fall in love by @floralseokjin (s2l, accidental pregnancy au, 18+)

It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

* For Love & Money by @jimlingss (s2l, forced marriage au)

For love, you foolishly lied to yourself. For money, you married a stranger.

MIN YOONGI

* Till Death Do Us Part by @colormepurplex2 (e2l, arranged marriage au, mafia au, 18+)

Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.

Sinful Lust by @oddinary4bts (ft. jungkook, threesome au, 18+)

in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

* The Truth Between Us by @jimlingss and @gukyi (e2l, multiple aus, 18+)

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

* Playing With Fire by @/chanyeolly (ao3) (e2l, idol au, 18+)

Yoongi hates you. Or at least, he thinks he does.

AKA

Y/N works for BigHit and Yoongi is bad at dealing with his feelings.

JUNG HOSEOK

Brevity (But Most Often Not) by @threeletterslife (ft. jimin, s2?, psychopath hoseok)

All your life, you've been with guys who didn't bother to read the news or appreciate the art form of journalism. But Hoseok... Even the way he carefully chooses his words is a sign that you and he are a match. If only he weren't in a dilapidating psychiatric hospital. Then maybe you'd have a proper boyfriend who treated you right for once.

* Arranged by @obiwrites (ao3) (arranged marriage au, 18+)

If you thought entering an arranged marriage with the person you love would be a dream, you were in for a rude awakening. Jung Hoseok was far from the doting husband you’d dreamed of and most of it could be chalked up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. And you are without a shadow of a doubt, not her.

But what happens when Hoseok starts to realize he doesn’t want you to be her? That there might be more than meets the eye with you?

Fake Love by @aquaminwrites (e2l, fake dating au, 18+)

Every year, your family spends the holidays at your parents’ cottage in the country. Freshly single and not wanting to be picked apart by your family for being alone, you decide to recruit one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend. The only available volunteer? Your brother Namjoon’s roommate, Hoseok. Only problem? He absolutely hates your guts.

* Jungle Park by @jimlingss (coworker au, amnesia au)

The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

KIM NAMJOON

Not Another Holiday Romance by @kpopfanfictrash (s2l, one night stand au, holiday au, 18+)

You, a perpetually alone (and utterly cynical) movie director, are sent to the town of Snow Falls, Middle-of-Nowhere for your latest film assignment. Stuck in holiday hell until the new year, you’re determined to get in and get out with minimal damage to your Grinch reputation. That is, until a ridiculously gorgeous (and young?!) town historian is assigned to help with your film. Suddenly, you find yourself the heroine of one of those corny romances you direct – and are discovering they might not be so corny after all.

* My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold by @daechwitatamic (r2l, college au, 18+)

You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

The Wedding Arrangement by @/sugalights (ao3) / @sugaurora (s2e2l, fwb au, 18+)

You are in love with your best friend, the only man who matters, Kim Seokjin.

Unfortunately, he's just gotten engaged to someone who isn’t you. Even more unfortunately, he expects you to help plan the wedding alongside Kim Namjoon, his other best friend and, based on your first meeting, just another judgemental jerk.

Putting aside your distaste for the sake of your friend’s happiness, you both set about giving Seokjin the wedding of his dreams. Following a rough and satisfying affair at the caterer’s, you strike an unusual deal: you and Namjoon will be enemies with benefits until the wedding is over. And after six months of wedding planning, you both just might learn that weddings aren’t usually the end, but a brand new beginning.

PARK JIMIN

* Maybe Me by @jiminrings (single dad au, s2l)

summary: maybe it’s stupid of jimin to take on everything at once, all by himself. maybe it’s rash of him to book a long-term stay at a luxury hotel, even if it comes with a family discount. but maybe, just maybe, jimin would have nothing to lose and everything to gain if he lets you in.

KIM TAEHYUNG

Always the Bridesmaid by @kookingtae (e2l, holiday au, 18+)

When you first meet Kim Taehyung, you’re determined to find every reason you can to hate him—or maybe he’s just looking for ways to get on your last nerve. But when a turn of events has the two of you working the wedding of the man you’re hopelessly in love with, you’re too late to realize the real reason to hate Kim Taehyung is because of the latest column he’s secretly writing: “Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride”, and it’s all about you.

JEON JUNGKOOK

* Take A Chance by @crystaljins (hanahaki au, coworker au)

You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

on the road (to you) by @cupofteaguk (f2l, road trip au)

as a young adult, one of the strangest revelations is the discovery that peers of yours from past fragile college years are getting married. so imagine your shock and excitement upon receiving a wedding invitation. there are, however, two problems: (1) you are a poor early-20s recently employed adult just beginning to adjust to your 401k plan, and (2) the only available ride to the wedding comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook—friend of a friend, attendee to that aforementioned wedding, and your old college crush. 

Sinful Lust by @oddinary4bts (ft. yoongi, threesome au, 18+)

in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

Accidental Roommates by @jjkeverlast (r2l, single dad au, 18+)

moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace.

yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate.

Rivers Over Stones by @ichorai (e2l, godparents au, 18+)

you hated jungkook the minute you laid eyes on him. the only reason why he was still in your life was because you both shared a goddaughter, hana. but everything changed unexpectedly when the two of you become her caretakers and you’re forced to live under the same roof. suddenly, you find yourself hating him just a bit less. or more, but who’s keeping track?

* Ego by @suga-kookiemonster (s2l, fwb au, 18+)

what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way.

🧸 given that a lot of authors are not active, please don't misuse their content! all rights reserved by the respective authors!!

— a bit of these have not been completed by me, leading to no feedback yet but i know these are good haha!

#bts #bts fic rec #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #freya.recs #.list #.bts #.nsfw #.angst #.fluff

[hannarchive]

🎆 HANNArchive 1st Anniversary BTS Fic Recs 🎆

So today is this blogs’ 1 year aniversary 🥺 I actually just made this archive for myself to save the fics i like and might want to read again one day. I didn’t expect to get so many notes and followers just from my navigation post that I made cause i literally forget everything I’ve read immediately and i need the detailed tag-system lmao. Like, i can barely remember what i read yesterday. 🙃 But I’m happy other people are finding my blog useful as well. ✨

Anyway, so i thought i’d make a fic recs list. These are the same fics that’s in my 💖 tag, which is my personal favorites, but i thought i would make a list thats nicer than just going through the tag.

✰ Like real people do by @bangtanloverboys (3.6k) Tae x Y/N, friends/colleagues 2 lovers. Fluff, slight angst, soft smut. ⋆ This is such a comfort fic for me, I too am lonely and touch starved where’s my taehyung ):

✰ Hunt me down by @bonny-kookoo (series, ongoing) Alien!JK x Human!Reader. Fluff, angst, smut. ⋆ I just love her stuff, go read all her other alien fics while you’re at it - and all her other stuff too!

✰ Reconnect by bonny-kookoo (12.5k) Exes 2 lovers, Singlemom!Reader, Dad!JK, angst, smut.

✰ Ignorantly, yours by @ot7always (10.6k) Alpha!Jimin x Omega!Reader -Werewolf AU, Best friends 2 lovers. Smut, angst, fluff.

✰ Knot today by @kinktae (5.8k) alpha!JK x virgin omega!reader - Werewolf AU, roommates. Mostly smut, pwp, with som angst and fluff.

✰ Colours by @lovelytaes-blog (Series) Singledad!Tae x Artist!Y/N - Angst, fluff, smut.  

✰ (1.5k drabble +) sorry (not sorry) by @angelguk (8.1k) Roommate!JK x Y/N - Smut with sprinkles of fluff and angst.

✰ The Sadness of things by @lubdubsworld (Series) Alpha!JK x Omega!OC - Arranged Marriage AU. HEAVY angst, smut, fluff (Please check the trigger warnings) ⋆ Listen, this nearly killed me. I cried several times and even full on sobbed at one point. Broke my heart but it’s so good! 😭 Edit: Find all of the chapters here

✰ War of hearts by @btswrckd (Series) Mafia!Tae x Y/N - Arranged Marriage AU. Angst, fluff, smut. ⋆ I really love the characters in this - despite some dark themes it’s quite entertaining and endearing how everyone interacts with eachother.

✰ Strain by @evangelene (Series) Taehyung x Y/N - Hanahaki AU. Angst, fluff. 

✰ Summer nights and morning dew by @jeonstudios (11k) Alpha!JK x Y/N - Werewolf AU. Fluff, angst. ⋆ This is so cute!!! 

✰ Out of the woods by @angelicyoongie (Series) WolfHybrid!Joon x Y/N - Fluff, angst, smut. 

✰ Nude by @btssmutgalore (Series) Fuckboy!Tae x Y/N - Smut, fluff, angst.

✰ Summer Nights by @marginalmadness (Series) RabbitHybrid!JK x Y/N - Romance, fluff, smut. 

#HA fic recs #bts fic recs #bts fic rec #bts fanfic #bts fic recs list #bts x reader #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #werewolf bts #hybrid bts #taehyung fic rec #jungkook fic rec #jimin fic rec #namjoon fic rec #now i feel bad that some members are missing from this list ): #go to my blog i have some for every member #though some is not that many :/ #i should read more of all the members this year

[minniepetals]

cry me a river | the reckless

— summary: in the face of danger, you run right into it

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 4.7k

— warnings: slight violence

— PART 24 / previous post / masterpost

It’s about one in the morning when you sneak out of the room with gentle steps, making sure to not wake the one who sleeps on the armchair beside the bed, his soft little snores still heard until his presence disappears with the closed door.

The hallways are as silent as it was back in the room, the only thing heard is the sounds of your footsteps echoing through, and as you close your shawl closer to your body, you look around to make your way to the familiar steps that lead outside where the greenhouse stands.

The doors are left unlocked so you let yourself in and step through the glass doors, closing your eyes for a moment to breathe in the scent of the greens all around you.

It’s during lonely moments like this you feel your heart craving for some sort of familiarity. Not just the presence of your Reapers but for the presence of your manor itself.

For years you spent hating that place more than anything because that was where everything happened; where you were born, where you grew up, watching your mother hating you with every fiber left in her, chasing after your father’s attention, shedding tears on top of gentle shoulders, trapped behind the steel door of a white room, training, meeting good people, meeting bad people, everything.

Everything.

You can’t recall when the feeling of dread and disdain turned to eyes seeking for it, feet yearning to step back into it. Maybe it was the moment your father died, when the dynasty he worked so hard to build broke down into pieces like a house of cards, when you took over and made it into the home that it is now starting to feel like.

You returned to it after Leehyun, locking yourself in the comfort of your room, knowing that if you were to step outside, your Reapers would be right there with the smallest calling of their names. It served as your escape when it used to be the very reason you hated your existence.

The manor has become home and perhaps the only reason it’s able to be such a thing is because of what you’ve built it to be.

You want to escape, to return to it and simply hide in it and have no one bother you until you’re ready to step out yourself.

On the bench where Alexander sat this morning, you take your seat and close your eyes, trying to manipulate your mind into thinking you aren’t in Norway, that you’re back in Seoul, back at the manor, and not somewhere far, far away.

It’s exhausting doing this, your revenge plan. It’s exhausting having to put up a front, exhausting having to freeze up and recall unwanted memories that you wish could bury forever in the back of your mind.

But buried memories can’t always stay buried. They return, eventually, in time, whether you’re prepared or not.

You can’t tell how much time has passed but when you feel something against your feet accompanied by small little pants, you open your eyes to find the little puppy that accepted you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

You look down at him and he returns your gaze with a tilt in his head, tail wagging, and swirls about in a circle once before using his nose to poke at your leg again. He reminds you of the children at The Academy, how they’ve never been scared of you despite wanting to always push them away with your cold demeanor. It’s like Kiwi sees right through you, just like them, and in your silence, you pick up the small little thing to bring him onto your lap.

His tail wags a little more and when you run your hand through his fur, he gets a little more excited and affectionate.

Besides the children, there’s someone else you see in him.

“You remind me of someone,” you say as he nuzzles into the feeling of your palm. “Though unlike you, he wasn’t too fond of me in the beginning. It took some time for him to warm up but once he got to that point, he wouldn’t stop following me around.”

You fall silent again, thinking, remembering, reminiscing, and your fingers stop playing around with the little puppy on your lap.

The memories aren’t as hazy as they used to be, they’re a little clearer, a little closer to home. You can feel it in your heart when something feels like it’s just stabbed it, and in your stomach when you feel a little drop.

“I’m sorry for being selfish,” a voice whispers into your ear. “I’m sorry for only ever thinking about myself.”

But the thing about that is, you cannot be sorry for something that is within your nature, you cannot be sorry for wanting to put yourself first in a cruel, cruel world. When everything feels wrong, when the world feels like it’s always against you, when you do not know who to put your trust in.

If you were a little more mature and a little more brave, would you have been able to tell him the things you want to say now?

Things like; it wasn’t your fault. Things like; it’s alright, and you’re okay, and rest well.

Rest well, rest well, rest well.

You lean your head forward to the sky, gaze closed, as if hoping the things you spoke within your heart could be heard from him wherever he stays.

And as the silence continues, you feel your consciousness eventually slip away as your shoulders loosen their tensions with the feel of the little puppy resting well in your lap.

You didn’t realize it, that you had fallen asleep, but you know yourself waking when you feel a presence closing in and immediately opening your eyes to meet the old man who has a blanket hovered before you, his eyes falling a little surprised because he hadn’t expected you to wake up so easily.

“It’s good to put your guard down a little, you know,” Alexander says with a small chuckle as you accept the blanket to drape it behind you.

“I’ve learned my lesson with that,” you answer him and scoot over to the edge of the bench in order to make room for him.

He takes his seat beside you though leaves enough space in between and you’re thankful this man is observant. Kiwi’s awake but remains quiet and still, head resting against his paws with his tail swaying side to side.

“Do you have anyone you can trust in this world?” Alexander crosses a leg over the other and you look at your watch to see that it’s about four in the morning.

You managed to sleep in an unfamiliar place while knowing there weren’t any Reapers that could come to you at any second. How odd.

“There are always chances someone can stab you in the back.” Maybe the presence of Kiwi helped you. “It’s never a good idea to put your full trust in anyone.”

“You say that but one day you might come to know it feels rather nice putting unconditional faith in someone.”

You shake your head, brows furrowing. “Even if that someone has a good heart and good intentions, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

There’s only been one person you know you can truly trust but he’s gone from this world, only ever being able to see him again when he wishes to visit you in your dreams. He’s the only person you’d ever allow to hurt you over and over again, even if it isn’t the real version of him.

Mister Butler can hate you and betray you but you’d let him do it again and again and maybe that’s because in your heart, you know those versions that the nightmares give you are simply from your own imagination and that he’d never truly come to hate you. He’s incapable of betraying your trust. Someone like him, who stayed by your side when he didn’t have to, isn’t a man who can have his heart easily swayed into hating you.

“Are you tired of betrayal?”

“I’m tired of everything,” you admit and he looks at you up and down, eyes narrowing slightly.

“And yet here you are, out in Norway.” Alexander knows a thing or two, he isn’t dumb, and you aren’t someone to think otherwise. He wouldn’t be in the position he is now if he was, and you don’t deny what he implies in his words. “You run straight into the very things that make you tired.”

“Because it is the only way I can feel alive.” You look on straight ahead before you, watching the pretty sky that pokes out from behind the plants of the greenhouse. “Otherwise I’d be in my room, rotting away. There is no purpose in running away, there is no purpose in leaving things be. My father did not leave this world for me to simply carry on as if he never existed.”

Some may take that as you carrying on your father’s legacy and whatever Alexander is thinking, you don’t care too much for it because all it matters is what you know. You didn’t kill your father just to stay silent for the rest of your life. His death was the beginning of everything.

Your turning point.

“And no one can stop a mind that’s already been made up.” Alexander nods, understanding, and doesn’t push for answers, but perhaps in the back of his mind, he’s a little curious about you and your goals and aspirations in this life. What drives you, what made you into the sort of person you are today, but Alexander is wise unlike many old men you’ve met throughout your life, so he doesn’t question things beyond your boundary.

And so he diverts the subject once again, turning it to the puppy in your lap.

“Perhaps you should adopt a pet of your own, to help you ease your mind a little,” he tells you with a fond gaze at Kiwi. “Humans can be quite disappointing, but a loyal pet will stay loyal for the rest of its life. Not to mention they’re the greatest comfort when someone needs it.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you should turn to a dog rather than humans in your time of need. Humans are disappointing creatures after all. But, “It’s too much of a hassle,” you say. “I can’t even take care of my own self properly, it’d be unwise of me to try and take care of another being.”

“...Is that so?”

It becomes a daily occurrence; the talks in the greenhouse, and soon you come to realize that Alexander isn’t one to let just anyone into his greenhouse. The doors that are usually locked during hours when one should be asleep are kept open, and perhaps that’s because he’s come to realize that you don’t sleep a lot, at least not in the house of a stranger, so he leaves them open for you to visit when you need your space.

And in the morning, around four or five AM when he awakens, he’ll come along and strike up a conversation and the two of you will speak about the things he brings up. Things like Seoul and of the Reaper gang, sometimes he’ll ask of Master Kitagawa, other times he’ll ask how far your skills go.

You speak to him in vague terms, careful not to tell him everything, but he comes to know that you were an only child, married once in an arranged marriage, but divorced. He doesn’t seem too surprised by that fact probably because everyone knows this happens all the time.

And in him knowing a little more about you, you come to know a little more about him as well.

Like when Kiwi came into his life and the fact that he’s had other pets throughout his lifetimes before but they’ve all died and left him.

You asked him why he continues adopting pets when he knows they don’t live as long as humans do, why he hurts himself over and over again, but he simply smiles and says that sometimes being able to love is better than being lonely. That it doesn’t matter how many times he has to watch them die and that he’d never regret loving them.

Alexander believes in reincarnation, that the souls of his first puppy dies and returns in the form of the other pets he’s had, so he’s never truly lonely, and something about that, believing in such a thing, though it sounds a bit absurd, is a little bit beautiful in its own way.

If you could believe Mister Butler died and returned through someone else, it’d be a nice delusion to live in, and despite the fact that there have been one or two guys that have reminded you of him, the truth is, no one can ever be Mister Butler.

Not Hoseok. Not Mingyu.

Because Mister Butler is like family. He was. 

Through your marriage with Namjoon, he was your older brother, but he always felt closer to a father figure to you, and perhaps that’s because your father was never there for you. Mingyu is closer to an older brother. A companion. A friend.

And Hoseok?

The one that got away.

The right person at the wrong time.

And because of that fact, you don’t allow yourself to be near him for too long, hence denying his companionship when Jungkook told you it’d probably be better if Hoseok were standing guard at your side rather than him.

It’s true, Hoseok would be better. You wouldn’t be as cautious towards him as you are of Jungkook, but it’s that exact reason that you cannot let him near.

You cannot let him shake your core, so you endure what you can and let Jungkook stay near you despite the constant reminder of what he did all those years ago.

It’s not entirely his fault but as you’ve said, it doesn’t hurt any less.

In your time getting closer to Alexander, he’s refused the appearance of Karl several times. Asher says if he has to, his grandfather will meet him elsewhere. Just not in the house. The guy has come to guess that you’re here because of Karl, and if he’s guessed it, maybe Alexander has too.

Though the old man never brings it up despite the plenty of chances during your greenhouse talks.

“Any progress?”

Dawn remains in the sky as ever and while Jungkook sleeps, you sit on the windowsill to take a call from the other side of the world. It’s a bit chilly to head out today so you stay indoors this time, making sure to keep your voice low.

“Plenty. It’s been quite peaceful these days, it feels a bit out of place.” Alexander’s kindness wasn’t something you expected the first day you walked into Norway. You expected things to be harder after meeting Asher but surprisingly, things are quite…easy, to say the least. “I have a feeling it won’t last too long.”

“No?” Namjoon sounds a little confused on his end. “Why do you say that? Should we come over earlier than planned?”

“No, don’t do that. Come as scheduled,” you say and look away from the window to the man who’s moved from sleeping on the armchair to the bed. It took some time to convince him initially but eventually Jungkook agreed to take the bed since you don’t really sleep anyway.

“You have something planned, don’t you?” There’s some suspicion in his voice and you want to laugh a little at how things are right now.

Who would have thought you’d be back on speaking terms with the man you thought you’d push away for good? But here he is, back and ready to give you his trust. You don’t know if he’s smart or stupid or both. Maybe there’s a bit of both, but it probably took some time for him to consider it, being as the whole thing was about his brother whom he loves very dearly.

Namjoon’s finally using his head.

Though you aren’t too sure if you like it so much.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

“I don’t know if I can trust those words so easily. The last time you left the country, you disregarded your life just for that plan of yours.”

“Listen.” You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s a pause on his end before he speaks again. “You didn’t assure me that you won’t do something reckless,” he notes and you internally click your tongue, “which means that feeling of the peace not lasting for long is you actively causing that to happen.” When you don’t respond, he goes on. “Will you stop being so secretive and let me know what you’re thinking? Maybe then you won’t be in the same position you were with Leehyun, and me and my boys and the Reapers will know how to help you.”

Well.

“You can’t keep hiding, Y/N. Stop being so reckless, you’re too reckless.”

“Watch me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“No?”

Another sigh and he knows he can’t win. “Just…if you decide it’s better for me to go over sooner rather than later, let me know. I’ll be waiting. Right here, just a phone call away.”

“...Sure.”

You don’t think too much about it. You don’t want to think too much about it. 

So when the cloud gives way to the sun and it shines higher in the sky, you finally take up Karl’s request to have tea and catch up, deciding you shouldn’t keep running away from what you’re trying to face.

You have Yeonjun stay by your side this time, rather than Jungkook, in case Karl says something out of line and Jungkook will hear more things than you want him to. You stay in the garden of Alexander’s mansion, keeping a little distance away from the building itself, and with the feel of eyes from a window behind you, the conversation begins.

“I remember him,” Karl points at your escort when he takes his first sip of the tea. “Jun? Joon?” Yeonjun doesn’t make an effort to fix him and simply remains quiet. “Right, never one to talk but always by your side.” His eyes settle back on you, a small glint of mirth in them. “You have quite the loyal companion.”

“Yes..I do.” You ignore his gaze to take a sip of your own tea, keeping your replies short.

“I’m still a bit hurt you didn’t reach out to me about your father’s death. We were good friends, you knew that.”

Of course you did. “I apologize, it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?” He raises a brow, unconvinced. “Hmm…and here I thought, I left a good impression in those four months I stayed in Seoul.”

You did. 

You did indeed leave an impression that will last a lifetime.

“Maybe I should have tried harder?”

That mirth in his eyes. Again.

You want to punch him.

“How did he die though? The man I knew isn’t someone who would have easily died and he would have updated me about his health had he fallen ill.”

“He was betrayed,” you say, not batting an eye, and Karl puts his cup down after hearing that.

His eyes are blown out. “Your father? Betrayed? And he didn’t see that coming?��

“They were smart.”

“Even still..” He can’t believe it, though you don’t blame him too much. The father you both know is not someone who’s easily trusting of others, therefore he’s always right there to pick out someone who will betray him before they can execute their plan. 

That’s why it took so long to manipulate him into believing you were a daughter full on worshiping his ground without an ounce of betrayal in your veins. That’s why your masterful plan took so long. You had to convince your father into believing he had won in manipulating you to his side when all along, you had been waiting to stab him in the back. Facing a man like him, smart, calculating, a manipulating gaslighter who thinks the world centers around him requires more than just simple brains and planning.

It took years to execute your plans and even then you feel like you could have done better with everything. For one, not letting anyone see what had happened, aka Bangtan. But what’s done is done. Dwelling on past mistakes is just stupid and a waste of time.

“And what about you?” When Karl points the finger at you, his gaze narrows, brows slightly furrowed. “You’re his daughter, his perfect little doll. You didn’t see that someone was plotting your father’s death? Is it not your job to protect him?”

“That’s right,” you give him nothing to fight against, just simply accepting the accusations placed upon you. “I failed in protecting him. I am an incompetent daughter who should have done better.”

Karl stands up, running a hand through his hair. “Your father did all that he could for you and still, you–” 

When he looks at you again and meets the gaze you send him, his word stops mid-sentence. Your stare isn’t threatening, it isn’t a glare, nor one that is meant to scare him off, yet something in them lies a hidden threat either way, were he to continue speaking. Karl, seeing that, lets out a chuckle and he closes in on you, patting you on the shoulder before simply leaving his hand there.

You look at it for a second before giving him the attention he wants as he leans in, nose inches away from you.

“Your father created you into the weapon that you are today, my dear little Y/N, and you’ve even been trained under Kitagawa, so why is it that you failed to protect him? Huh? Tell me.”

From the corner of your eye, Yeonjun moves slightly closer, though he keeps his distance and doesn’t dare to make a move unless you instruct him otherwise.

The breath against your face, the touch of skin burning through the thin cloth of your dress, the sides of your knees meeting one another, back straightening up, heels rising from the ground, fingers intertwined into each other, sitting on your lap.

You keep your eyes open, meeting his gaze, but internally you’re counting in your head and holding your breath, hearing the beat of your heart that might as well rip through your rib cages and past the barrier of your skin to physically beat widely before Karl himself.

Maybe he hears it, maybe he can feel it, but whether he does or not, he has no will to move away from you and you know Karl, he isn’t dumb. He knows exactly the effect he has on you right now. He saw it, knows just how you felt all those weeks ago when you were in the living room and he touched you.

He knows and doesn’t care one bit.

Just as he was all those years ago.

They never change.

“What is it that you want from me, Karl?” He doesn’t fix you into calling him uncle this time. “Do you want me to repent on my knees and beg for forgiveness? My father’s already six feet underground, it’s not as if he’ll hear me now, but as his close friend, if you wish for me to do just that, I will. Just for you.”

There’s malice in his eyes, a scoff that leaves him when he watches you, and finally, he moves back. Just a little. “You’ve gotten quite bold, haven’t you? Now that your father isn’t here to teach you a lesson.”

“And if I have? What will you do about it?” You push back, leaning forward, challenging him despite your body screaming at you to run away. “Go ahead and do whatever you’d like with me, there’s no one here right now that can stop you. I can tell Yeonjun to pluck his eyes out right now and he’ll do just that. He won’t say a word and he won’t move unless I tell him otherwise.”

At the mention of the boy, Karl looks over between you and him, and then something in him lights up slightly as if he’d just remembered something. As if he’d just realized something.

“That’s right...what loyal companions…” He steps back, releasing your shoulder, and tilts his head back as he laughs obnoxiously. “Is this all about that little boy I messed with? Him?” The laugh rings a little louder, a little more crazed. “You pretend you’re so cold and have no feelings and yet here you are, chasing after me all the way from Seoul, just for a boy, the second you got the chance. If your father were still here, he wouldn’t have let that happen, but now that he’s gone…-”

He pauses again, and after hurling over laughing, stands back up straight again as the laugh dies all too abruptly. So you stand up from your seat, the corner of your lip curling over as you notice just why he’s gone silent.

By now the tea is slowly getting cold but you don’t care much for it as you stand tall, hands held together before you in a formal manner.

“The person who betrayed him…” His eyes narrow. “Who was it?”

“Oh uncle,” you mock that title, mirth in your eyes, “I think you know exactly where that answer lies.”

Danger.

Something screams danger when his gaze darkens in realization.

And yet you seem to only be attracted to danger as it is the only thing you’ve ever gotten used to seeing every day. The danger of being born as a mafia heir, married to a mafia powerhouse, spiraled into a hellhole you cannot ever seem to escape so you run towards it.

Directly into the fire.

Into the danger.

Provoking your enemies, knowing exactly just what their reactions will be, because danger seems to be the one thing in your life that will never leave and abandon you out of nowhere. The only thing you can forever trust to catch you were you to fall blindly into it.

And blindly you fall, trusting it to come.

And comes it goes, directly your way.

Never disappointing.

Never disappointing.

Namjoon called you reckless and for the first time in forever, you might have to agree with him. Because being reckless means not caring for the consequences to come after committing a rash action. The reckless ones do not care what happens to them, they live off adrenaline, they run towards the fire when everyone else runs away.

Towards the danger despite knowing there will always be a chance they may not survive. Unheeding, stubborn, thoughtless, careless, negligent, imprudent. Unwise, unwary, incautious, hasty.

A fool.

A fool.

A fool.

But misguided and left on their own. Lonely, abandoned, hurt, isolated, rejected, forsaken. An outcast and unloved, a disappointment and broken.

Broken.

A broken little soul whose heart lies empty with a hole pierced through the middle.

You are reckless. You are broken.

And broken things do not know how to save themselves, they only know the warmth of the fire. That is the only thing they can rely on.

So you stay within his vicinity, within Karl’s reach, watching, simply standing there, keeping still, as if keeping vigil. Like you’re just waiting, just expecting for something, anything, the inevitable, to happen. And when it comes in the form of a harsh, harsh slap across the face that has your body turning over to the side and having to hold onto the table to keep your balance, you can’t even say that you are surprised.

It feels like being in the presence of your father all over again, in the face of danger, of a manipulator, of a gaslighter, of an abuser.

He returns hard and so vividly in the form of anger, in the form of a ghost, a spirit whom you see standing right behind Karl. He stands as still as ever, hands held behind his back, simply watching.

Watching.

While you stand before him in front of a man he’s using to command orders over him. Using violence through others because father never raises his hands, father never puts in the effort or strength or power into physical forms. He does it through others, he commands through others, he hurts through others.

Watching until he’s satisfied.

But he’s never satisfied. He’s never satisfied.

And on your end, you can do nothing but accept it all willingly.

There is nothing else you can do, there is nothing else that can be done. It is like being in his presence all over again. Yeonjun, the Reapers behind you, standing still, told to not do a thing, to not move an inch, and your father behind the violence, keeping silent with a deadly gaze.

You return to the past.

You see him.

He’s right there.

And Karl raises his hand again.

#bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly au #bts ot7 x reader #bts polyamorous #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts mafia au #mafia!bts #bts mafia #bts mafia!au #bts poly!au #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts poly relationship #bts arranged marriage au #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[colormepurplex2]

Till Death Do Us Part | Enemy of My Enemy is My F̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ Lover

↳ Hitman Yoongi x Kidnapped f.Reader ⤜ Enemies/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 23,272 ⚠️ Blood, gore, violence, murder (weewooweewoo this warning shouldn’t be taken lightly), angst, knife play, biting/marking, virginity loss/first-time vaginal sex, dom/sub dynamics, power play, restraints, Yoongi still has a breeding kink but he's keeping it tame (shame, I know)

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"Do you really have to go?" you ask, looking out the window of your new bedroom. It's not technically just yours, it's the room you'll be sharing with Yoongi now, in the new house you've been moved into.

Your honeymoon, what was intended to be a week-long trip to the cabin, was just severely short. On the second night, Yoongi received a phone call from his father requesting he come back early because the meeting in Warsaw was being moved up. So, Yoongi packed you both up and Wenton had you back on the estate property in just a few hours.

"This isn't really something I have a choice in," he mutters in response from the closet, where he's changing out of his casual wear and into a suit.

"How long will you be gone?" That's not something he'd shared yet. You turn from the window, finding Yoongi coming out of the closet.

His fingers are doing up the last few buttons on a navy long-sleeve dress shirt. "Two weeks, at the least. Could be three, though. It really depends on the buyers and how long it takes for negotiations."

If there’s one thing that turns your stomach, it's hearing talk about the inner workings of The Hitman's arms dealing business. You can't help the small shudder that rolls across your shoulders. "Does it really have to be now, though?" You don't mean for it to sound like a whine, but it catches in your throat just enough for Yoongi to notice. His demeanor instantly changes, softening.

"If I didn't have to go, I promise I wouldn't," he assures, abandoning the jacket he was about to slip on to step closer to you. His right hand comes up and cups your cheek. "I know it feels like we just found each other again, but I swear everything will be okay. There are things I'll need you to handle while I'm gone. You'll do that for me, right? You'll be good and work hard for me?"

"Of course," you promise, even if you still have reservations about trusting him.

Yoongi said two to three weeks. It's been almost seven now. You've had little communication with him. It's all mostly word of mouth from Wenton that Yoongi is fine and will be home soon. Though, every time you press and ask when 'soon' is, Wenton avoids giving a straight answer and just tells you to try being patient.

The last few weeks have been weird, to say the least. It took at least the first week to get used to being in this new home. It's quaint and cozy, but feels foreign in so many ways. With a more modern ranch-style layout, it only has a single level with a large open-concept kitchen, living room, and dining area. There is a laundry room off the kitchen with a half-bath. The laundry room also has a door leading to the backyard. No pool, but there is a large hot tub and even a sauna room. A hallway extends from the living room, leading to the three bedrooms. A jack-and-jill bathroom sits between the two spare rooms with the master suite at the very end of the hall. The en-suite bathroom is large, with a garden tub and stand-alone shower that has dual heads. A large walk-in closet holds more storage and space for clothing than you think you'll ever have a need for. Even already full of both yours and Yoongi's things, the home feels somehow empty.

Before leaving, Yoongi gave you free rein to decorate however you wish. Wenton stayed behind, something about The Hitman wanting as few extra ears in Warsaw as possible, and has been instructed to assist you in anything you may need, including decorating the space.

Despite being given this freedom, you've found very little motivation to actually change anything. You blame it in part on the fact you still feel like a prisoner, just with a different set of walls surrounding you now, but another deeper part of you feels the need to have Yoongi's input on the decorations, too. After all, it's his home just as much as it's yours, maybe even more so.

You stand in the middle of the master bedroom, feeling a little uneasy. Everything is so pristine and oppressively white. Down to the crisp white sheets covering the bed and the subtle smell of cleaner in the air, it reminds you of a hospital room. As soon as Yoongi returns, this is the first room you want to change.

Shrugging out of your oversized sweater, you toss it into the hamper followed by your tights, socks, and bra. Your toes flex against the cold hardwood floor in the closet as you dig through the drawer containing your sleepwear.

It's been maddening, being in this house all alone, especially after everything you found out about at the cabin. You thought you would have had far more time to talk over everything with Yoongi, to solidify more of a plan. But, as it is, he left you with a few tasks that have left bitter tastes in your mouth.

Slipping on a pink silk tank top, you make your way over to the bedside table you've claimed as your own. Atop it are stacks of papers and a few notebooks and ledgers. This has been your nightly routine, sitting in bed and pouring over documents Yoongi left for you to sift through. You're looking for answers, without really knowing the questions. Yoongi said to just make note of anything that looks important or out of place. So, as you settle under the duvet, you grab the next stack of papers and get to work.

You've been assured the house is safe, that there are no cameras or listening devices, but you still can't help nervously glancing around the room before cracking open the first notebook. Knowing you were being watched at the cabin, back at the main home of the estate, and even tracked through your phone, really put a damper on your ability to relax.

Even so, you find yourself quickly engrossed in the contents of the notebook. It's filled with accounting reports, purchase and trade logs dating back between seven and eight years ago. There are a few names Yoongi wants you to look out for, names that are connected to the documents Namjoon found that led to the apartment in Tokyo.

It's weird digging into a part of your father's life like this. In a way, it still feels unreal. Like there is a part of you that refuses to accept that your father was involved in anything, whether it was weapons dealing related or an affair. Yoongi gave you proof when he gave you the box of things to go through. There were pictures, letters, even a signed lease agreement on the Tokyo apartment. All supporting the fact that your father had this whole other life.

You haven't thought much about your parents in the last few years. In the beginning, when you were first taken, it seemed like you'd never be able to get over what happened that Christmas Eve. Dreams quickly turned into recurring nightmares, seeing your mother bleed out under your hands and the sickly wet feeling of your father's blood and brain matter splattering the side of your face...those are things you thought you'd never stop remembering. Though, over time, things got easier. The nightmares became less frequent and even their faces started to become hazy in your mind.

Now, however, seeing photos of your father with another woman has brought everything back into sharp focus. At first, it made you sad, seeing the images of your father happy with someone else. But, that sadness quickly morphed into anger. Anger at the fact that when all was said and done, your father still chose to sign a marriage contract to hand you over to The Hitman's family. Full well knowing just what his lover went through at the hands of the man himself. That's confirmed in the letters between your father and Yoongi's mom, Aneta...Netty. That's her name, but you still find it hard to stomach the idea of saying it out loud or even thinking it too often. Netty sent so many letters to your father, letters that clearly were tear-stained, describing the heinous acts The Hitman committed; both inside and outside of the home.

Glancing at your phone on the bedside table, you realize it's already after midnight. You don't necessarily have to go to sleep. It's not like you have a bedtime or need to wake up at any specific time tomorrow, but keeping some sort of semblance of a schedule helps you feel less disorganized and like you're just floating in the ether. Which is something you know can easily happen when you're cooped up inside, day in and day out.

You close the notebook, slipping a loose sheaf of paper between the pages as a bookmark. Flicking off the bedside lamp, you slide down under the duvet and roll onto your side and face the empty space beside you. Before closing your eyes, you make a mental note to ask Wenton tomorrow if he's heard anything more from Yoongi.

It's dark in the bedroom when your eyes flutter open. You're a little disoriented, blinking several times to dispel the awkwardness between wakefulness and sleep. A strip of light is coming through from under the bathroom door and you can faintly hear the shower running. You glance around the room, eyes taking in the still-made other side of the bed. Nothing looks out of place or disturbed, no indication that it's Yoongi in the bathroom.

The disorientation turns into a hyper-awareness. Slowly pushing back the duvet, you reach over and slide open the drawer of your bedside table. Your fingers glide over cold steel before wrapping around the grip of the pistol Yoongi gifted to you before he left for Warsaw. The Ruger LC9 is small compared to other handguns, but you're comfortable enough with it. Silently pulling it out of the drawer, you get a firm grip on it and slip off the bed.

You're barely aware of how cold the wood floor is under your bare feet as you pad across the room to the closed bathroom door. It's just a few short steps, but with enough space that you're comfortable racking back the slide on the pistol without fearing whoever is in the bathroom might hear. Flexing your fingers around the grip of the gun, you bring it up until your forearm is over your chest, the gun lofted just to the side of your face. Using your other hand you grip the door handle to the bathroom. You give it a slight test turn and ease out a slow breath when you feel it's unlocked.

Using the element of surprise is your best bet, you know this. So, with that in mind, you quickly flick open the door and drop your arm to aim the gun into the lit space of the bathroom. A cold rush of adrenaline pumps through you before you let out a startled cry.

"Oh my god, Yoongi!" You swiftly shut the door behind you and discard the pistol on the counter of the sink. With frantic, trembling hands you yank open the glass door to the shower.

It's like a scene from a horror film. In a pile in the corner, you see Yoongi's discarded clothes surrounded by a pool of red-tinged water. Tendrils branch off from the puddle and swirl down the drain with the water cascading off Yoongi's body. Red and pink splatter the white tiles, thick strands of crimson plop to the tiled floor as he groans and shoves himself back from where he was leaning against the far wall.

His back is to you, leaving you open to see the extent of the scars and fresh wounds peppering his skin there. "I didn't mean to wake you," he grunts out, finally turning fully to face you. He slumps back against the wall, his right hand bracing against the other wall and his left cradling his side. Streamers of red feather from beneath his hand where it's clamped against his skin.

"What the fuck?!" you exclaim, rushing into the shower, heedless of the spray that instantly soaks through your clothes. "You're hurt!"

His chuckle turns into a groan. "I just ripped a stitch, it's fine."

"Fine? Ripped a stitch? What the hell happened? When did you get back?" The questions flood out of you as you ease his hand away from his side, uncovering the ragged stitches slanting just above his hip bone. Two have popped, the skin shredded apart.

He tries to stand up straighter but his knees buckle and he nearly takes you down with him. You just manage to catch him, saving you both from hitting the hard tiles. "There is a first aid kit under the sink. Inside there are supplies to repair the stitches and some styptic powder to help with the bleeding. I'll explain as soon as I'm not on the verge of passing out, yeah?" His attempt at a smile turns into a grimace that has you scrambling out of the shower and digging under the sink.

Several tense minutes later you've managed to get the bleeding stopped and helped him replace the popped stitches. You keep anticipating an explanation, but find yourself continuing to take care of Yoongi in silence. It takes a few tries, but you finally get him to sit in the bottom of the shower, legs splayed out and his stitched side as far from the running water as possible. His eyes are glassy, bloodshot, and he grimaces as you clean and tend to the smaller set of injuries scattered over his battered body. Along with the numerous cuts, his bottom lip is split and you can just make out the starting of a bruise around his left eye.

Yoongi's warm to the touch, warmer than you think he should be from the shower. A few of the wounds look fresh while others you can see must be several days old. The confusion and worry nearly double with each new antiseptic pad you open. By the time you've got him cleaned up and the water is running clear, his eyes are closed and his chest is rising and falling with even breaths.

"Yoongi, can you stand? Do I need to call Wenton? I don't know if I can get you into bed by myself." You shut off the water, stripping out of your own sodden clothes and grabbing towels for both of you.

His eyes flutter open as you kneel before him, your own towel tucked around your torso. "I can stand with your help, just go slow for me." You can hear his teeth grind as he shifts his weight. Each moan of pain from him tugs at your heart until you finally have him up, an arm thrown over your shoulder for support. Yoongi grips one side of the towel and you help him tuck the other around his hips, low enough to not disturb the stitches.

"I'm going to get something to cover those as you sleep," you murmur, settling him on the edge of the bed. You grab a roll of gauze from the first aid kit and wrap it around Yoongi's waist, securing a sterile pad over the red and angry stitches. "You probably need some antibiotics, too, you're burning up and those stitches look like an infection might be setting in."

"Sure, sure, just tell Wenton," he groans, laying back against the pillows. You do your best to shift his body over, swinging his legs up and under the duvet. The towel is still wrapped low around his hips. He untucks the end and lets the towel fall open, uncaring to move it any further. "There's some Dilaudid in the medicine cabinet, that'll do for now."

"An opioid?" you whisper to yourself as you head back into the bathroom in search of it. "Yoongi, what happened?" you ask a little louder coming out of the bathroom with the small pill nestled in your palm and a glass of water from the tap.

"Just a little disagreement with the Bratva, no big deal," he mumbles before swallowing the pill down.

You stare at him for a moment. "A little disagreement with the Bratva, no big deal?" you parrot back to him. "This doesn't look like no big deal!"

Yoongi harrumphs, pressing his lips into a thin line and avoiding your gaze. "My father may have pissed them off and this is the product of being collateral damage," he mutters, vaguely gesturing to his body. His eyes finally flick to yours. "Don't look so aghast. This isn't my first rodeo, princess, I've been stabbed plenty of times before."

"Stabbed?! You need a doctor," you insist, twisting to grab your phone from the nightstand.

Yoongi catches your hand in a weak grasp. "I've already seen a doctor. Dr. J. was on the plane with us, he's the one that did the stitches. They would have held, too, if I didn't get into a pissing match with Namjoon when we landed." The last part is grumbled, barely audible enough for you to hear. His eyes flutter shut and he lets out a slow, labored breath like the conversation is taxing.

"Namjoon? What happened with Namjoon, Yoongi?"

Yoongi's even, shallow breathing is the only response you get. His brow is pinched like he's in pain but it slowly smooths out with each additional exhale he lets out. You want to press for answers, to figure out just what went down and whether or not you should be worried. But, looking at him right now, he's so vulnerable and it does something to you. Like a knife twisting in your gut, you realize you're genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.

It feels like it'll be impossible to sleep now. You do one last check of his injuries, peeking under the gauze wrap to ensure there isn't any more bleeding. Fluffing out the duvet, you make sure it's covering him but not tight enough to cause discomfort to his injuries. You disappear into the bathroom for the next fifteen minutes, drenching the shower in bleach you found under the sink and scrubbing away the blood splatters.

You wring out Yoongi's discarded clothes, unsure if they're salvageable or not. When you stretch out his gray dress shirt, you have to suppress the strangled gasp that peaks in your throat. The shirt is riddled with holes, thin slices that you can tell are from a blade. There are dozens, like Yoongi was used as some sort of macabre human pincushion. Balling up the shirt, you pitch it into the bathroom trash and then hang up the jacket and pants over the top of the shower door. Your own clothes follow his and you can't help but notice the small smears of red staining your tank top. You've never been in a situation to try and get blood out of clothing, for all you know everything should just be trashed. You contemplate it for a moment before abandoning the bathroom, leaving the clothes to be dealt with further, later.

Stepping into the closet, you discard the towel and pull on a dry shirt and pair of panties. Yoongi still looks to be sleeping as you settle on the other side of the bed. You close your eyes, intending to try and get a few more hours of sleep, but the sheets shifting beside you have your eyes popping back open.

"He doesn't like not knowing what you're doing," Yoongi murmurs in the dark. "He cornered me in the hangar just after Father and Dr. J. left." He lets out a tired sigh before continuing, "He didn't like me being gone for so long, leaving you in peace. Apparently, he tried to get into the house a few times, but Wenton was able to hold him off with assurances that I'd double my efforts for the time I've been gone. Namjoon wants proof...proof that I'm making you suffer for my time-lapse." Yoongi's eyes find yours in the dark. You can barely make out the shape of his face, but there is enough low light to distinguish the whites of his eyes. "It's all a sick and twisted game for him. I'm so sorry you're in the middle of this bullshit...I promise, I promise we'll figure out a way out soon." His words trail off, his promise barely more than a husking whisper. Even breaths follow, if a little shallow and rattled-sounding.

You prop up on an elbow, leaning over the space between your bodies. "Sleep. Just sleep for now," you whisper, brushing a strand of his unruly hair from his forehead. It's grown out, even in just the eight weeks he's been gone, long and a bit shaggy across his forehead and down the sides of his neck. It surprises you a little when you find yourself pressing your lips to the space of his forehead you just uncovered. Such an endearing gesture isn't exactly something you would have pegged so soon in your rekindling relationship with Yoongi. But, it does leave you feeling a little warmer on the inside, a little less lonely and afraid.

Those feelings carry over into the morning, but are quickly pushed to the side by worry and concern. Yoongi feels less feverish, but he's still quite pale and you can tell he's in pain.

"My phone, it should be on the kitchen counter." He tries to roll over, clearly intent on getting out of bed.

Being as gentle as you can, but also stern, you tug him back down. "Stay put. I'll get anything you need."

Now that the sun is up, you can clearly see the trail of blood through the bedroom. You follow it with a queasy stomach, leading down the hall and through the kitchen. It continues into the laundry room, so you assume Yoongi came in through the back door last night. As he said, his phone is lying on the counter. His keys are beside it, drops of blood smeared on the marble surface under them. Plucking his phone up, you escape back into the bedroom.

"I need to call Wenton. When's the last time he was by?"

You think about it for a moment. "He was here two days ago, which means he should be back by today. He's been coming around lunchtime, usually with food."

Yoongi grunts in understanding. "Were my glasses on the counter, too? I can't remember when I had them last."

"No, I'm sorry, they weren't. Maybe you left them in the car?"

He sighs, but it turns into a groan and his brow pinches. The screen on his phone is black, no matter how many times he thumbs it. "Looks like it's dead. Do you mind calling him? Just tell him it's 'status yellow' and he'll know what to do."

"Status yellow?" you question, grabbing your own phone and pulling up Wenton's contact. "What's that mean?"

Before Yoongi can answer, Wenton is picking up. You relay Yoongi's 'yellow status' to which Wenton promptly huffs a breath and hangs up. You give Yoongi a questioning look, pulling your phone away from your ear and glancing at the blank screen.

"Think of yellow as an I'm-hurt-but-not-dying code. The codes are simple, something you can also use. Green means it's something self-induced like a hang-over and I'm out of Tylenol, yellow is a bit more severe but not life-threatening like already being stitched up but I might have a minor infection, red is needing medical assistance immediately or I might die, and white is...well, white is something I hope to never use. And if I do, then it's not Wenton who gets that phone call, it's Rio with the cleanup crew because I'm probably staring death in the face with no way out. So, yellow means he'll bring just enough medical equipment to put me on the mend, but won't bother contacting Dr. J. or setting up transport to the infirmary," Yoongi explains, nonchalantly, like he's discussing something mundane like summer weather patterns.

You sit there stunned for a few moments, trying to figure out maybe why you're just now learning about this code system he has. Deciding it's best to just come out and ask, you do. "Why am I just now learning about this?"

Yoongi gives you a hard-to-read look. "Honestly? I was hoping you'd never need to know it. But, I also wasn't sure about...well, us. Things haven't exactly been rainbows and sunshine." He holds up a hand, warding off the snarky comment about to come out of your mouth. "Before you say anything, I know that's my own fault. Trust me, I regret it more than you can imagine...which is part of the reason I'm doing what I can to ensure that we get out of this."

"Yoongi, can I ask you something?" you ask before slipping into the bathroom and retrieving another painkiller for him.

He nods as he takes the pill with a grateful smile. "Anything."

"You keep saying 'we'. That 'we'll' get out of this." The next part hurts to even think about, much less ask aloud, but it's something that's been weighing heavy on your mind. "Is this even something you're able to get out of? This life?"

Yoongi doesn't respond for a long time. He toys with a loose thread on the duvet, wrapping it around his finger over and over again. You watch as the tip of his finger turns red, then purple, before he gives the string slack and the skin slowly fades back to his normal flesh tone. "I think so," he finally answers, bringing his eyes up to yours. They're a lot clearer than they were last night, not nearly so glassy or bloodshot. "I've wanted out of this life for as long as I can remember. This isn't what I expected when I was adopted," his voice wavers slightly. "When The Hitman and Netty first arrived at the children's home, it was like a dream come true. What they offered was a new life, a fresh start. You see, it wasn't just a regular children's home for kids without parents or guardians...it was a home for troubled youth. All seven of us were there, we were like our own little punk-ass gang. All the other boys were so scared of us, even the workers steered clear. But, it's not like we wanted that, not really. Maybe a few of us were a little more messed up than the others, but we all just wanted one thing...a home, a place we could grow and learn. We just wanted what any other kid wants, someone to care about us."

An ache settles in your chest. You were aware that all of the sons were adopted, but this is the first time you're actually hearing their story. It's not hard to imagine them always being monsters, it's easier that way. In a sense, Yoongi just confirmed that they kind of were monsters, a little gang of punks. But, it is hard to stick to that narrative completely, knowing the motive behind it. After all, we're all just animals in the end anyway, right? One step removed from being feral. A simple act of violence can turn the tables just as much as one of kindness. These boys just needed someone to be kind to them. Instead, it seems they just got a tighter leash.

"Were they cruel to you?" The words make your stomach turn, but they come from a place of empathy.

Yoongi smiles a little. "No. Not at first. It didn't take long for us to understand that Father was a little different, that his job wasn't exactly the most morally straight. I saw my first dead body just a month after we were brought home with them. It really wasn't until years later when we'd see the truth for what it was...when he started wanting us to be a part of the business. Mother didn't like it, she didn't want us to be part of this world. For the most part, it was really only the older boys, Seokjin, myself, Namjoon, and Hoseok who were under his thumb. That changed when Mother died, almost overnight."

It's not like this is a revolutionary confession. This shouldn't change how you feel, you're still in a loveless marriage to a man that's been a cruel monster to you for the last year. However, the ache in your chest seems to intensify, paired now with a burning behind your eyes. "I'm so sorry," you whisper, not sure what else to say.

"Don't be upset, please." Yoongi slides a thumb across your cheek, catching a tear you didn't even realize had slipped out. "We don't deserve your sympathy, princess," he coos softly, trying to comfort you which seems to only make it harder to hold back the tears.

"I should be the one trying to comfort you," you mumble, blinking rapidly to thwart more tears from escaping. "No one deserves a life like this, regardless of what's been done in the past. You were just boys, you deserved better than that."

A knock on the doorframe to the bedroom startles you and Yoongi both. "Sorry, Sir, I don't mean to interrupt." Wenton clears his throat, eyes averted.

"Come on in," Yoongi calls, giving you one more half-smile before turning his attention to Wenton. He comes around the side of the bed and sets a box, that much resembles a fishing tackle box, on the bedside table. Giving Yoongi a once over, Wenton steps into the bathroom and you hear the sink running as he washes his hands.

Coming back into the room, Wenton peels back the duvet, mindful of Yoongi's nudity, to just expose the gauze wrapped around his middle. "Dr. J.'s handy work I assume?" he questions, flipping the lid of the box open and pulling out a pair of medical sheers and a pair of latex gloves. Yoongi just grunts in response. "Any idea how deep?" His question is followed by the snapping of the gloves against his wrists as he pulls them on.

Yoongi hisses between clenched teeth as Wenton pulls away the sterile pad covering the stitches. "Deep enough," he grits out. "Maybe an inch or two. Didn't get anything vital."

Wenton hums, tenderly checking the skin around the stitches. "Mild infection, probably would clear up on its own. But, it might be best to take some antibiotics to help it along. What happened to these two end stitches here? The skin looks like ground hamburger, Dr. J. isn't that messy last I knew."

"I'd laugh if it didn't hurt so fucking much," Yoongi winces, holding back a chuckle. "Had to repair those myself, it's been a while since I've had to do my own stitches, I guess I'm a little rusty."

You're still uncertain as to whether or not you can trust Wenton. He did, after all, send off your soiled bed sheets from the cabin to Namjoon. Yoongi assured you that he's the one that told Wenton to go along with it, that he's in on all the plans to get away. If Yoongi trusts him wholeheartedly, you guess that should be reason enough for you, too. But, it's just so damn hard to trust anyone, considering.

"Do I even want to know why?" Wenton mumbles more to himself than Yoongi. "I guess I don't need to ask how Warsaw went, your body tells me all I need to know." He gives you a fleeting wary look before speaking his next words. You're not the only one with trust issues, it seems. "Will we need to change any plans, account for anything new?"

Yoongi relaxes back against the pillows, taking the pills Wenton offers him from a small container in the box. "Shouldn't be necessary. This was just a disagreement between Father and the Bratva...I may have paid the price but Hoseok and Namjoon are the ones who will be reaping the rewards."

That's confusing. This is the first time Yoongi has mentioned Hoseok and Namjoon in relation to the dealings in Warsaw. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He looks at you. "I was going to mention it before, but we kind of got sidetracked in conversation and I was apparently too out of it last night to think clearly. The reason the meeting in Warsaw was moved up, I found out, was because Father wasn't just securing a new arms deal...he was also securing Hoseok a wife." That shocks you, but not nearly as much as what he says next. "Though, in the end, we seemingly bargained for two...one for Hoseok and one for Namjoon."

"Mercy." Wenton rubs a hand over his mouth, belying his first real show of something other than indifference in your presence. "Those poor souls." 💔💔💔

Two weeks later, you find yourself flicking through the dresses in the closet. Yoongi informed you this morning that you both would be having dinner at the main house tonight. You find it odd, as you don’t recall there ever being casual dinner parties like this before, at least not when you were living there. But, it’s not like you can say no.

Yoongi’s stitches are nearly ready to be taken out. Wenton had him on a cocktail of medications for a week before Yoongi flat out refused to continue and has grumbled every day since that the stitches need to come out. Together with Wenton, though, you were able to convince him to give them more time.

Already in a smart navy suit, Yoongi perches on the edge of the bed watching you still in the closet. “How about the navy and white halter?” he suggests, giving you a small smile when you look up, startled, having gotten lost in your own thoughts about the dinner tonight.

You grab out the aforementioned dress. It’s pretty, simple and comfortable, with a thick halter strap and a-line skirt. The bodice is a deep navy, matching Yoongi’s suit, and the skirt has an asymmetrical white pattern that is pleasing to the eye. “You don’t think it’s a little elementary to be matching?”

He lets out a full laugh, something you haven’t heard from him in a while. “Is it childish of me to want to match my wife?”

Wife. It’s still hard to wrap your head around that sometimes, even though it’s been months now. It’s nice to hear him laugh, so you keep a comment about that feeling to yourself. “I suppose I can humor you.” You try to make your words light and playful. It must work because Yoongi laughs again which has you pausing mid-step as you leave the closet with the dress in hand. The falter only lasts a moment, panic on your face quickly washed away. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the tiny little feeling that made you pause was…butterflies.

An hour later you're in the back of Yoongi's SUV with him, Wenton driving. The house you have with Yoongi is on the backside of the estate property, easily a fifteen-minute drive. It's a one-lane paved road, a driveway really, that snakes through sprawling woods and cuts over a small brook. The stone bridge over the water is short, a simple arch with moss-covered river-rock side rails.

"Father didn't explain what the dinner is for, only that we needed to be there and be presentable," Yoongi explains, chewing the corner of his bottom lip in thought. "I can't imagine it's anything to be too worried about, but keep your wits about you anyhow. As far as I know, all of my brothers will be in attendance." He says brothers, but you know who he's more specifically talking about. The one brother wholly set on seeing you completely broken, if not six feet under.

You hate coming back to the main house. The overly exaggerated monstrosity fits perfectly with the dark and cold persona of The Hitman. Everything is opulent, screaming of wealth too big for any one man to have achieved by gracious means. For you, it also represents a prison. A place you were locked away under a proverbial key for years. It's weird to think that you're just as much a prisoner now as you were then, but still you feel freer than you were even with your parents. Yoongi has given you something you'd never really had before. A goal, a chance, a means to an end...a future of your own making. You just have to get there first.

With your hand tucked into Yoongi's elbow, he escorts you through the front doors and into the hearth room where The Hitman and the other brothers are enjoying a finger of whiskey before dinner. It's hard to suppress the smile that rips at your lips when you catch Miriam's eye. She's a welcomed sight for sure. At least you know you won't be suffering through dinner surrounded by nothing but the men. She gives you a wink before turning to Seokjin and murmuring something you don't catch. He raises an eyebrow at her but lifts a shoulder in a casual gesture of indifference.

"Finally, can we eat now?" Jungkook hasn't changed much since the last you saw him. He's still quite boyish, despite being in his early twenties now. His black hair is coiffed, showing off his smooth forehead and framing his dark eyes.

"Grow up." This comes from a source you're trying to avoid. All the same, though, you can't help but feel the way his dragon eyes sear up and down your form.

The Hitman clears his throat, casting a glare at both Namjoon and Jungkook. "We're still awaiting two more guests." He flicks out his wrist, the gold watch wrapped around it jingling. "They should be arriving any minute now."

As if his words were a summon, there is a resounding knock against the front door. You hear the door open and shoes shuffling in the foyer. A moment later the butler, Mr. Lee, ushers four new individuals into the room.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't two young women being shadowed by who you're certain are their fathers. It quickly dawns on you. These must be the new girls, the future wives of Hoseok and Namjoon.

"My friend!" One of the men strides forward to clasp hands with The Hitman. "Good to see you again, sorry we could not be here sooner. You know how fragile women folk can be," he chuckles, gesturing back toward the two women still standing in the doorway.

"Alina, Dasha, come girls," the remaining man practically shoves the women forward, toward The Hitman. "Greet your future papa." The last is stated with a sharp laugh that has them jolting forward.

They both offer murmured greetings, their eyes downcast. They're both fair-skinned with reddish-blond hair, maybe could be mistaken for sisters at first glance. But, you catch differences that tell you otherwise. The man that first strode in, you learn is Ivan, indicates which girl is which. Alina has a button nose and slightly upturned eyes, whereas Dasha has a more pointed nose and chin with thin lips. The other man, Leonid, doesn't say much, choosing to be more like the shadow you first thought him to be.

"Interesting," Yoongi murmurs in your ear, shifting so he's standing just behind you. To anyone else, it probably looks like he's just being affectionate. His hand not holding a glass of whiskey settles on your waist as he leans in a little further. "Bratva princesses. Don't let their demure attitudes fool you, they are trained with a blade from birth and are well versed in the ways of killing. Hoseok and Namjoon think they're getting little playthings, boy will they be surprised."

To hide your surprised smile you turn in Yoongi's arms and press a kiss to his jaw. "A fate they both deserve," you whisper against his skin.

"Ah, this must be the newlyweds!" The loud proclamation startles you, your hands automatically fisting into Yoongi's jacket.

Yoongi just smiles, slipping on his own mask of mock pleasantries. "Ivan, Leonid," he says in greeting, giving them each a nod. He turns you back around and introduces you, offering just your name in turn.

Your hand is scooped up by a big, rough mitt. "A beautiful specimen, my boy, just exquisite," Ivan smiles a Cheshire grin that has you pulling your fingers from his grasp before he can plant a kiss on them. "And a little fire, I like that."

You really want nothing more than to grab Yoongi's half-filled whiskey and toss it in this animal's face, but The Hitman calls for everyone's attention which you're grateful for. "Let us move to the dining room." Just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifts to being less stifling.

As fate would have it, that uncomfortable feeling returns tenfold when you find yourself seated next to Namjoon. Yoongi tried to swap seats with you but one look from Namjoon and you both knew that wouldn't fly without dire consequences.

The Hitman sits at one end of the table, Ivan and Leonid to either side of him. Dasha, Namjoon's intended, sits directly across from you, putting her on Namjoon's right. Alina sits beside Dasha with Hoseok on her other side. The other brothers are dispersed through the remaining seats, Miriam beside Seokjin who's beside Jungkook on the other side of Yoongi. From where she's sitting, you can't properly see nor speak to Miriam and that sours your mood further.

The dining table is covered in a white silk and lace table cloth, fine white porcelain place settings, shiny silverware, and crystal glasses. There is already a feast laid out in the middle, everything from stuffed whole chickens, salads, roasted vegetables, mixed rice dishes, exotic fruits and cheeses to honeyed ham. You avoid the ham, for reasons similar to why you hate snow. For that matter, if you could avoid formal dinners like this for the rest of your life, you'd be just fine with that.

Conversation floats along the table as everyone eats. Ivan and Leonid are loud, obnoxiously so. Their manners are lacking, food dropping from their open mouths as they laugh loudly and speak mid-chew. Time seems to slow down to a stilted parody of passing. The more the men talk, the more you internally cringe. Even the small interactions you have with the sons leave you feeling claustrophobic in a way. Though, you know it's really thanks to the man seated on your right.

Dasha and Alina keep throwing sneers your way. The only comfort you find is when Yoongi occasionally, but deliberately, brushes his shoulder against yours. The intimacy you displayed in the hearth room probably didn't win you any points with Namjoon. It was too close to being what he believes you don't deserve, which is not part of the agreement he has with Yoongi.

With that thought, you're not even sure you can stomach the few bites you've managed to take but then lose your appetite completely when you feel a large palm settle on your bare knee. It's such a startling sensation that you jerk in your seat and rattle the glasses on the table.

"There's plenty of food left, no need to shake the table, girl," Ivan guffaws from down the table, brandishing a whole chicken leg for emphasis. Enough food, sure, if you count the crumbs remaining on most of the platters. The Russians have devoured more food than you think two grown men should be capable of.

Your cheeks are hot as your eyes flick up to meet Namjoons. His fingers dig into your skin painfully. The pressure increases until you can't help but shove back from the table, mumbling to Yoongi that you need to be excused to the ladies' room. Before you can turn and escape, Yoongi grabs your wrist and stops you. "Are you okay?" he asks in a whisper meant only for you.

"Fine, just...need a moment," you whisper back, flicking your eyes to the side toward Namjoon. A knowing look settles on Yoongi's face, he gives you a small nod and releases your hand.

You can hear Yoongi addressing Namjoon in a short, curt tone as you make your way from the table. His words are low enough that you can't hear them, but the inflection is enough for you. You also catch The Hitman announcing cocktails will be served in the adjoining lounge shortly. That should give you enough time to get to the bathroom down the hall and get yourself together before having to show your face again in front of everyone.

Shutting yourself into the half-bath, you internally curse remembering there is no locking mechanism for the door. Not that that would stop anyone who truly wanted to get inside. You turn to the sink and flip on the tap, taking a moment to breathe. This is your first time being in Namjoon's presence since you found out about his intentions for you. To say you're feeling a bit skittish would be putting it lightly. It doesn't help that you know you shouldn't be so carefree with Yoongi, it does nothing to help the situation.

Splashing some water on your face, you resolve that when you go back out there you're going to snuff the little warmth there is between you and Yoongi. If only for the sake of appearances. You know Yoongi will understand and not hold it against you. He's supposed to be your worst nightmare, after all.

Like a scene from a horror film, just as you’re patting your face dry with a clean towel from under the sink, the door snaps open. “You ought to know better than to put yourself in a position to be alone with me, little mouse.”

Your mouth opens to yell, “Yoon-.” But he’s on you and slaps a hand over your mouth before it can make much of a difference. Namjoon pins you against the sink pedestal, the backs of your thighs biting hard into the lip of the sink as you're forced up onto your toes by his sheer body mass.

“Yoongi is busy right now, courtesy of our father,” he sneers, the words curling his upper lip into a snarl. “It’s just you and me right now. Even if you did scream for help, do you really think someone would come to save you?” Your frantic eyes dart around the bathroom, looking for something you might be able to use as leverage to get him off. “Now, I’m going to take my hand away, scream if you want…but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll choose to just listen instead.”

Like a physical manifestation, the weight of his words settles on your chest, constricting your ability to breathe. All you can do is nod slightly behind his hand. A moment later he slides his hand from covering your mouth to cradling your jaw. “What do you want?” The words leave you in a rasp.

“Your skin is looking better. Those bruises have faded as if they were never there.” He uses the hand on your jaw to tilt your head from side to side, examining your neck. Your skin flushes, a mix of anger and fear making your heart frantically beat in your chest. “Did you enjoy it, the way his hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing until the dainty tissue beneath your skin was swollen with blood enough to leave a mark?” A shudder ripples through you, which he takes as an answer enough. “You did, didn’t you? I definitely enjoyed seeing it, those pictures he sent me are beautiful, a work of art. I wonder if we can recreate them, what do you think?”

Panic surges, making your body go stiff. You subconsciously ease back from him, practically climbing onto the sink to get as far away from him as possible. When Yoongi returned from Warsaw, he told you about his run-in with Namjoon and how he wanted proof that Yoongi was going to make up for his time away. You spent an entire evening staging it, digging through boxes of makeup and special effects tools. In the end, Yoongi snapped mid-struggle pictures of you. It was a dance, a choreography of push and pull. It reminded you so much of what happened at the cabin, Yoongi going to such lengths to make it seem like he’s a monster when in reality he’s just an excellent actor.

The pictures were quite breathtaking, in a haunting and gut-churning way. The tears were real, the fear evident on your face. You’re a good actor, too. Hand-shaped bruises littered your throat, reddened palm prints scattered over your cheeks, thighs, and upper arms. You even thought the pictures looked real. Yoongi pretended to attack you, but you screamed like it was real. It felt real, like a glimpse into what your life would be like if he was actually that monster he pretended to be for the last year. He apologized afterward, profusely.

“Please don’t,” you gasp, shoving your hands against his chest. “Yoongi will be so mad.” You don’t have to finesse the fear that stutters your words, the fear is definitely real. You’re face to face with an actual monster and he’s not into acting.

“Mmm, the wrath of my brother is a small thing, compared to the fun we could have, little mouse.” His lips crash into yours, his teeth too harsh against your unwilling mouth. One hand fists into your hair and the other maintains its stern grip on your jaw. You flail, swatting and smacking his chest and the sides of his face. Your feet kick wildly, you feel the toe of your heel connect with his shin more than once, but nothing seems to thwart him. Namjoon’s aggression is predatory and you’re a helpless little mouse just like he said.

Copper warmth bursts on your tongue as his teeth lash your bottom lip. You do scream now, letting it loose as if your life depends on it. It’s swallowed by his mouth, muffled and comes out more like a pathetic yell. The hand on your jaw drops to your throat, big enough for it to fit perfectly between his thumb and fingers. He begins to squeeze, focusing the pressure on the arteries on either side of your neck. Your vision almost instantly wanes, black spots dotting the edges. This is it, you think, this is how it ends. Namjoon finally gets his way.

His mouth is still on yours, his tongue lapping up the blood still leaking from your now busted bottom lip. Just as your eyes are fluttering shut from lack of blood flow, his presence is ripped away. Tendrils of hair are ripped out from the root, still caught around his fingers. Your bottom lip is once again thrashed with his teeth as they leave your mouth. The pain of his fingers scratching along your throat is just another blip on the scale at this point. It might as well be a lover's caress compared to the rawness powering down your throat now that you’re sucking in harsh gasps of air.

“I will kill you!” Yoongi’s roar is emphasized by Namjoon’s body crashing into the far wall of the bathroom.

Your body slumps back against the mirror, hands feebly scrambling on the sink in an attempt to hold yourself up. Everything is still hazy but you blink a few times and clearly see the moment Namjoon begins to laugh like a maniac. He throws his head back, howling with mirth. “Oh, big brother,” he wheezes between laughs, “I was just having some fun.

“Touch her again and see what happens,” Yoongi barks, his chest heaving with restrained violence. “You may be my brother, Namjoon, but I’ll forget that well enough if you touch what’s mine again.” The possessiveness of Yoongi’s words should scare you. Instead, you feel a wave of rightfulness settle in your bones. It’s a deep feeling, like a bottomless ocean. Both full of unknown things that scare you but also a calming comfort you can float adrift in.

Namjoon rights himself, absently brushing his hands over his suit jacket. “Don’t be so touchy, Yoongi.” That predatory gleam replaces the humor with his next words. “Best tighten that leash before you find your bitch snatched up by a new owner.” He shoves open the bathroom door and disappears down the hall without a backward glance.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi turns to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “What am I saying? Of course you’re not okay. Fucking bastard,” he curses, trailing his hands down your neck, checking to see what damage has been done.

“Can we go home?” you whisper, choking back the sob lodged in your throat.

Yoongi wraps an arm around you, helping you down off the sink. “Of course. Of course, we can.”

You don’t even say goodbye to anyone, Yoongi simply walks you out the front door where Wenton is leaning against the front of the SUV scrolling through his phone. Wenton doesn’t ask any questions, just pockets his phone and opens the back door for you and Yoongi. Thirty minutes later, you’re dressed down in a tank top and under the duvet in bed. Yoongi lays next to you on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Thank you.” You reach out and run your fingers over his bare shoulder.

He turns his head, his eyes meeting yours. His brow is pinched, lips a thin line. “You shouldn’t have to thank me, it shouldn’t have happened to begin with. I should have known as soon as Father asked me to retrieve something from his office and you were still gone to the restroom that Namjoon would take the opportunity to pounce. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shake your head. “I shouldn’t have run away at dinner as I did, it was stupid to have even put myself in a position like that.”

“What did he do, exactly? What made you need to step away?”

A breath leaves you in a huff as you think back to dinner. “I don’t even know if it was so much Namjoon. I mean, yes, he put his hand on my knee under the table and that sent me over the edge. But, the whole night seemed like one big game of cat and mouse. Those Russians, are they actually that brutish and pig-like? Their manners…or lack of, just everything put me so off-kilter. Not to mention I may have been internally freaking out about how we were in the hearth room. I didn’t mean to be so intimate like that, so close. I didn’t even consider what it would do to Namjoon, to see us acting like a perfectly normal married couple.” The words finally taper off, your flood of emotions having fueled the deluge of thoughts aloud.

“Namjoon is a problem we’ll take care of, a problem we’re working to solve. It shouldn’t be much longer until we find some information we can use, the information we need. In the meantime, I have a plan B in the works that would take us away from here even if we don’t find what we need to get him off our backs. We can just disappear. It won’t be easy, nor fun in the beginning, but it could work. As for the Russians,” he grimaces, “it was all a show. They wanted to push buttons, be as disruptive as possible to see how Father would react. They were nothing like that in Warsaw. Everything is just a play for power, seeing who will break first.”

That’s what scares you, though. Breaking first. 💔💔💔

It’s one night, several months later, that you finally see the first bit of light at the end of the tunnel. You’re cross-referencing some of the notes you’ve been making from the accounts and logs Yoongi provided you with. He’s sitting beside you at the dining table, working on his own spreadsheet of numbers, something for the offshore accounts he’s set up in case of plan B.

“Marcus Kingston, you know that name, right?” you ask Yoongi, tapping your green highlighter against the list of transactions you’re looking at.

“Marcus Kingston, like ‘Kingston & Ruso’, Marcus Kingston? He’s Father’s criminal defense attorney. Why?” He pauses in his work, bringing his attention to you. Yoongi’s dark eyes are accentuated behind his black-framed glasses, an accessory you secretly love seeing him wear. He’s gotten a haircut in the last six months, but it’s still long enough to brush the collar of his t-shirt. It’s rare to see him out of a suit, but you have a special place in your mind where you file away images of him in casual wear like he is now. The black sweatpants and white t-shirt shouldn’t be as attractive as they are. For that matter, Yoongi himself should be one of the last people you find yourself pining after…but, life has a funny way with things like that sometimes. You could blame the forced proximity on the way your feelings for him have kindled over the months, but you’re done lying to yourself…mostly.

You clear your throat, bringing your attention away from the way his hair slightly curls around his ears and back to the datasheet. “I almost missed it, and it might honestly be nothing, but there is an account transaction here that seems a little weird.” You angle the paper so Yoongi can see where you’re pointing. “I’m cross-referencing the transactions, accounting for repeat charges. Here, Kingston & Ruso, charges for the embezzlement case from a few years ago. I’ve traced the same type of transactions back over the entire eight years you’ve had me looking into. But, there is one here,” you grab the other paper you were using to reference, “these are transactions from just over seven years ago. Five of them. I thought it was the same, Kingston & Ruso, but it’s Kingston Co. IS. It’s different.”

“Huh.” Yoongi pulls the papers closer, his finger sliding down the papers and stopping at each transaction you highlighted. “Kingston Co. IS, that’s weird.” He turns to his laptop, pulling up a private web browser. Yoongi has the entire house outfitted with what you consider secret network spy things. An entire internet server that he controls, no way outside sources can get in, or so he assures you. In a few keystrokes, search results are scrolling on the screen. “Kingston Co. IS, looks like Marcus Kingston also has his own investigative services company.”

“Like a P.I.?” you ask. “Someone who digs up dirt or follows people around, catching cheating spouses and shit like that?”

The words are out of your mouth before you even connect the dots with what they could truly mean. Yoongi glances at you and you can see the cogs turning in his eyes, the thoughts tumbling around while he mulls over what you just said.

“Yeah, exactly like that,” he finally says. “You don’t think…it couldn’t possibly be…” His words trail off, not wanting to complete those questions aloud.

It’s definitely a probability you want to latch on to. If The Hitman was using Kingston to investigate Netty, if The Hitman found out about her and your father…well. “Yoongi, I’m going to ask you a very hard question and you need to really think about it and give me a straight answer, okay?”

You can see the way his shoulders tense like he’s readying himself for a blow. “Okay.”

“Your father said your mother’s death was an accident, right?”

It has the effect you knew it would. Yoongi’s features cloud over, a thundercloud rolling in that crackles with lightning. “Are you actually insinuating…,” the heat in his words dies abruptly. “My father,” he states simply, his tone devoid of all emotion. “We didn’t see the body…just the blood. A fall down the stairs, he said it was an accident. Too much blood for an accident,” he mutters that last part, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “But, Namjoon found the suicide note in Tokyo, that’s not something that could just be explained away as an accident.”

“Yoongi,” you place a hand on his shoulder, hoping to ease the next words out of your mouth, “suicide notes can be coerced, written under duress or threat. We can’t rule anything out at this point, especially with this.” You gesture with your other hand to the account sheets in front of him.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “You’re seeing this much more clearly than I am.” Much to your dismay, you feel the tremble of his shoulder under your hand and can hear the choked emotion in his admission. He really did love his mom and this potential is like a swift kick in the gut.

“Come on, let’s go lay down, we can look more at this tomorrow when we’ve both got fresh eyes.” You stand from the table, pulling him up with you and leading him down the hall into the master bedroom.

Yoongi doesn't protest when you tug off his shirt and push down his sweatpants, leaving him only in a pair of tight black boxer briefs. Being nearly naked around one another has become part of the routine. You don't mind it, if anything you sometimes find yourself admiring his body. Despite the plethora of scars covering his body and the defined muscles, there is still a softness to his edges that gives you hope you won't be cut too deeply by him in the end.

Maybe it's this realization that leads you to do what you did next. But, you suddenly find yourself pressing your lips to his. He doesn't react at first, still caught up in his own thoughts. Though, as soon as he realizes what you're doing he jerks back like you've slapped him. "That...that was," his hand flies up to his mouth, fingers pressing where your lips just were.

Our first kiss. Your mind fills in the words he doesn't speak. Weird, right? In all the years you've been here, in the months you've been married, even including your wedding day, not a single time have you ever kissed each other on the mouth. It seemed far too intimate, too personal and like it would be a step in the wrong direction.

"I'm sorry!" You fumble back a step, hands clenching into your shirt. "I wasn't, that didn't, I shouldn't ha-." You don't get to finish your apology or explanation. Yoongi steps forward and presses his lips to yours so fiercely that it steals your breath. For a moment you're still on the verge of panicking but the sure movements of his lips working against yours melts any remaining uncertainty. He wants this just as much as you do.

Your hands are everywhere. They map across his chest, back, up his neck, and through his hair. His body responds to each sweep of your hands, small pleasured grunts muffling against your lips. Yoongi is a little more hesitant in his exploration of your body. His touches are light and feathered, like he's worried it might be too much and that he's crossing a line.

His lips taste faintly of the whiskey he had earlier. It's an earthy, spicy flavor that has you seeking more, probing the seam of his lips with your tongue. Yoongi's lips part for you, welcoming the slide of your tongue against his. Goosebumps break out along your sides as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt and slide along your ribs. "Is this okay?" he asks, his tongue leaving yours to help form the words against your lips.

"Mhm," you hum, capturing his tongue with your teeth and pulling it between your lips again.

This is a different kind of dance that you find yourself falling into rhythm with. Previously, it had always been about the step-by-step orchestration of well-placed sways and stiff dips. A parody of intimacy with a mask of hate you both shared. The mask has been slipping, proven all the more by the small misstep at dinner with the Russians all those months ago. Your dance is no longer a blunder of uncertainty. Now, it's all fluid motion filled with an intensity that radiates through your entire form.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss, sucking in deep breaths of air. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he tries to put a little space between your bodies. With one of your hands buried in his hair, he doesn't get very far. "Let's slow down," he pants. "I don't want you to think that this is...I'm not taking advantage of you. Don't feel obligated, please." You can see the uncertainty warring on his face. It's prominent in the pinch of his brow and how he tongues the corner of his mouth. You watch the tip of his tongue slide along the crease of his kiss-swollen lips, awestruck by the fact you've waited so long to actually kiss him.

"I don't feel obligated," you blurt, snapping your eyes up to his and away from his hypnotic tongue. "I-I'm the one that kissed you."

His brow smooths out slowly, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly. "You did."

"If you're not certain about this," you begin, retracting your hand from his hair and letting it fall to his shoulder instead, "it's okay, I understand. Things are...weird, and I get it. We can both walk away now and promise it won't change anything. We'll still be in this together, regardless if we're all in or not."

The look in his eyes softens, like melted chocolate on a warm day. "I've been certain about this for a long time," he confesses. "A very, very long time." The distance between you diminishes, his lips brush against yours once, twice, a third time. "I want to be all in."

"I want that, too."

There should be some sort of self-restraint award given for how patient you are. As much as you want to rip off all of your clothes and jump him, you let Yoongi take his time in undressing you. His hands are still gentle, the rough calluses on his palms are soothing in their own way. You've never really paid attention to just how masculine his hands are. Prominent knuckles with just a dusting of hair, slender fingers with blunt tips and trimmed nails, palms that could easily cover your entire face or wrap around your throat with ease...not that you're thinking about either of those things.

Your clothes form a pile beside you, until you're standing there in even less than Yoongi. This is quickly rectified when you slip your thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and push them down his thighs. They could just drop, once you have them to his knees, to puddle around his feet. But, you follow them down all the way, finding yourself on your knees before him, helping him step out of them and adding them to the pile.

"If you put your lips around my dick, I don't know how long I can last," he warns, watching you eye the bobbing length of it. Sweat is beading at his temples, his thighs trembling under your hands where they rest against him for support.

It's nice to see him a little unhinged, out of control. It's even better knowing you're the one making him that way. The sexual chemistry has always been undeniable between the two of you. The swap in power, however, is completely new. Previously, Yoongi has been the one in charge, whether it was the blowjob behind the garden shed or the intense manhandling on the patio at your reception dinner. Now, though, you have the power. With just a slow flick of your tongue, you have him gasping and jerking in your hold. It feels good. Really good.

You chuckle, letting the huffs of your breath play over his glistening cockhead. "That's okay, as long as you're up for a round two." Sliding a hand across his thigh, you slip your fingers around his base with a light squeeze.

"Fuck, woman, you can't say shit like that unless you really are looking to get a mouthful," he groans, his hips jerking in your hold again. "I'm not kidding, it's been years since I’ve had a female in my bed and jerking off can only do so much for a guy."

Years? You glance up at him through your lashes. Surely he has been laid sometime over the last few years, it's not like you expected him to be virtuous. That's just part of the lifestyle you're married to, it's par for the course with these kinds of men. Though, you have come to learn Yoongi isn't exactly like most mafia types.

"Yoongi, how long has it been?" you're asking before you can think better of it, not truly wanting to know the answer you realize.

He puffs out his cheeks. "Uh, well, I don't know. If you don’t count what we’ve done…since I was a teenager I guess?"

That...that surprises you. But, it also makes you feel something flutter low in your belly. "Really? All this time, you've never...with someone else?"

"Never. It didn't feel right, regardless of what might have been expected of me," he explains, his lips twisting to the side a little.

You let that simmer for a minute, really sink in. Years. It's been years. "Tell me what you like," you offer, giving his cock another slow flick of your tongue. It had gone half-hard with the awkwardness of the conversation, but quickly fills back out with your attention.

"What I like?" he groans, slipping a hand into your hair. "I-well, I don't know."

You take him into your mouth, savoring the feel of his velvety skin sliding along your tongue. Pulling back, he pops from between your lips with a satisfying sound. "What kind of porn do you watch?" you question before taking him into your mouth again, swirling your tongue along the crown before letting him slide deeper.

"Uh," a small moan emits from him instead of words. He swallows hard, eyes glued to where he disappears between your lips. "Cum. Um, I like cum p-play. Creampies, er, breeding. Maybe, uh," he pauses to suck in a stuttering breath, "biting, ropes...and," he mutters a word you don't catch.

Hollowing out your cheeks you suck as you slowly pull off him again. The salty punch of his precum coats your tongue, a pungent yet not unpleasant taste. "What was that last part?" you ask, working him over with your hand a few times, watching as more clear viscous liquid gathers at the tip of his length.

"Knives," he grunts out in a rush, hips canting forward as you rub your thumb over the crown of his cock, smearing the beaded moisture there.

All the attention you're giving him has an ache of your own settling between your thighs. Who would have known that power makes you hot under the skin? "We can try those things, if you want."

"What? Really?"

You place a soft kiss on his crown. "Sure. I just have one request," you say as you stand up, hand still wrapped around him moving in lazy strokes.

"Anything," he pants. "Anything you want, it's yours."

"If at any point I want to stop, we stop. No questions asked, you stop and it's done." He looks at you like you're crazy, because of course he'd stop. "That's not my request, just a prelude statement. What I want is...for you to not hold back. Don't treat me like I'm going to break. I want this to be real, as real as it can get. I want to see what's under your mask, I want to see who you really are. Deal?"

Yoongi's expression is somber, a delicate mix of serious and tender. "I can do that for you. But, I won't hurt you, not like...before. This is different, I only want to bring you pleasure."

"There can be pleasure in pain," you murmur before pressing your lips to his.

He walks you backward until the backs of your thighs hit the edge of the mattress. Your lips never lose connection, they don't stop working in tandem with his. Yoongi follows you up the bed, only stopping when you're comfortable in the middle of the large space. "Let me worship you," he says with a groan. His hands cover your body, being just as delicate as before but with a renewed sense of certainty. With the right amount of tongue and teeth, he trails open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck, and over your collarbone.

"Oh," you gasp. Electric shocks rock through your body as Yoongi's tongue swirls around one of your nipples. "Oh, wow." Your back arches off the mattress, pushing your breast further into his mouth. It's like your nipple is connected directly to the apex between your thighs. He moves his head and gives the same attention to your other nipple, eliciting a startling moan from you when the sensation travels down your spine and right into your clit.

Teeth press into your sensitive skin as Yoongi bites down softly. One of your hands grips the long strands of his hair, pressing him more firmly against you. He growls in response, sinking his teeth into your flesh with more vigor. You cry out, but the sharp pain ebbs as he laves his tongue over the wreath of marks left behind by his teeth. "I could play with your tits all night. They're perfect and they hold my bite marks so well." His praise is accompanied by another, shorter, nip to your other breast.

The blunt tips of his fingers take over when his lips leave to trail down your stomach. They pinch and tweak, rolling your pebbled peaks with just the right amount of pain to elicit the pleasure surge down your spine again. You're just tilting your head up to look down at him, watching his descent down your body, when your head snaps back as he presses an open-mouthed kiss right on your already aching clit. "Holy fucking hell," you bite back a further spiel of curses, catching your bottom lip between your teeth instead, as he delves between your folds with his tongue. "That should be illegal." The words come out from between your teeth, barely coherent.

It's an entirely new sensation, Yoongi's mouth exploring every inch between your thighs. He has you keening, gripping the bed sheets, and flexing muscles you didn't know you had. Between one hand continuing to fondle your breast and the other sneaking below his chin to tease your weeping entrance, along with his tongue and lips and their never-ending assault on your clit, you quickly find yourself on the verge of a sweltering orgasm.

"You're doing so good," he utters against you, the vibrations of his voice like another jolt to your system. "I can feel the way your body is tensing, just let go, cum for me."

And, so you do. It's like a too-tight guitar string snapping. You're wound so tight the first wave feels like a tsunami crashing into shore, devastating all in its path. "Fuck me!" you cry out, eyes squeezed shut so tight that pops of color dance behind your lids. Yoongi doesn't relent, he continues flicking, licking, and sucking as your body washes through another cresting wave. You're faintly aware of the obscenely wet sounds coming from between your thighs, but you're too high to really care.

Your body trembles as you finally begin the wind-down, jerking from the overstimulation coming from Yoongi's mouth still latched onto your swollen clit. You give a tug on his hair, eyes catching his and pleading for peace as your hips try to shy away from him. Finally, with one last flat-tongued lick he pulls away. The entire lower half of his face glistens in the low light of the bedroom. "Did you enjoy that?" he asks, a coy grin curling his reddened lips.

"We'll definitely be doing that again," you pant, tugging his hair again to try and get him to move up and over you. "I think...I think I want something else now, though." You give him a pointed look as he follows your lead, allowing you to guide him until his hips are nestled between your spread thighs. There is no mistaking the throbbing length of his erection now pressed firmly against you. The thick shaft nestles between your slick lips and presses into your still aching clit.

"Are you sure about this?" There is a small crease between his brows, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours, looking for any sign that things have gone too far.

You smooth a thumb between his brows, smiling as the crease disappears. "I'm sure. This is my choice and I want this with you...if you want me, too."

He rests on his elbows, his large hands coming up to cup along your jaw. "I do want you. More than anything." You can see the truth in his eyes, plainly written right before you. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something more but you see the indecision flash through those truth-filled eyes before he snaps his mouth shut and presses his lips to yours.

It starts out slow, Yoongi moving his body against yours. Just the slide of his cock along your folds has you panting for more, seeking a rougher play of your tongue with his. You take out your frustrations on his lips, biting and sucking them, but he doesn't give in just yet. "Please, Yoongi," you breathe against his lips. "I want you. Please."

Maybe you should have resorted to begging sooner. It seems to break his resolve. He snakes a hand between your sweat-slick bodies to take a firm hold on his cock. "I'll go slow, tell me to stop if you need to," he instructs between your frantic, wet kisses.

"Just shut up and fu-." Your demand cuts off in a strangled, garbled moan as he notches his cock against your entrance and begins to push in. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you sputter out soft pleas with each additional inch.

There is strain on Yoongi's face, his lips gone slack. Neither of you deigns to worry about kissing right now. "This might hurt," he grunts, his hips catching slightly with resistance. There is a pinch followed by a bloom of heat and pain that lances straight into your lower belly. "Are you okay?" he asks, eyes wide and searching your face.

"Fine," you manage to sound halfway believable. "Just keep going. It'll feel better if you keep going, right?" His hips start to retreat for a moment before your fingers dig into the meat of his ass and keep him from pulling out. "I won't break. Remember what I want."

His mouth descends on yours again. A frenzy of distraction as he pushes further in, easing his way until he's finally sheathed to the hilt. His body is warm against yours. Slowly, the pain recedes and you're left with an indescribably full feeling. Then he begins to withdraw, bringing back the faintest whisper of pain that's dwarfed by a zing of pleasure when one of his thumbs finds your clit.

"You're so beautiful," Yoongi whispers, breaking away from the kiss to stare down at you. He leans back, holding himself up with one of his hands pressed to the bed beside your face. "The way your body rolls with mine," his eyes dip lower, "the way your tits bounce every time I fuck my cock into you. Look at you, taking me like you were made for it." His eyes continue down your body, finally locking on where he's sinking into you over and over.

You follow his gaze, mesmerized by the way his hips move, barely registering how your hips bump up to meet him on each thrust. There is no more pain, your body feeling nothing but a cresting pleasure. The insistent attention from his thumb against your bundle of nerves, the way his cockhead rubs against a spot inside just right, has you barreling toward another dive into the abyss.

"I'm going to cum," you whimper, hands sliding up his back and digging into the muscles of his shoulders. His name leaves your lips with a shuddering moan that you feel all the way down to your toes as they curl against the sheets.

Yoongi grinds his hips against yours, working himself against your sensitive inner walls that pulse around him. "That's it, princess, you're such a good girl." His words are another drip of serotonin, straight to your cerebral cortex.

You make a pleased sound in the back of your throat, what's sure to be a dopey smile plastered on your face. "That was...wow." Little shock waves still ripple through your body as Yoongi continues a sensual roll of his hips. "We'll add that to the do-again-list, too."

He chuckles, nuzzles against your neck and places a kiss below your ear. "I can support that." His hips slow to a stop, still pressed firmly against you. "Still up for being a little daring?"

"Anything, as long as you make me cum like that again." You can't believe you just said that. It's far too bold a statement coming from you. There were chinks in your armor before, but now you feel wholly exposed, no armor to speak of at all. It's exhilarating...freeing.

You groan as Yoongi slides out of you, sitting back on his heels. This gives you your first full view of his slick erection as it slaps messily against his stomach, leaving smears of your arousal across the subtle plane of his abs. It's a wonder how it even fit inside. "Like what you see?" His question is full of cocky snark, having caught you staring.

"So what if I do? You are my husband, I should be allowed to admire what's mine." There is just a bit of sass to your reply that makes his grin pull wider.

"Yours, hmm? Yeah, I guess I am," he concedes with a wink. "Keep that in mind with what we're about to do next."

Needless to say, you're thoroughly curious now. Yoongi shifts on the bed, reaching over to his bedside table and pulling open the drawer. When he leans back, settling between your thighs once more, he has two objects in his hand. One, the same pocket knife he had at the cabin, and the other, a discarded tie he must have grabbed from the floor beside the bed.

With a short intake of breath, you decide to throw all inhibitions and doubt out the window. You truly do trust Yoongi. "Do your worst," you challenge, holding your hands up in surrender.

For the first time since you entered the bedroom, you see bold lust shining in his eyes. His touch is no longer delicate or soft. Instead, it burns with passion and unrestrained need. He gathers your wrists in one hand, his large palms easily keeping them pinched together. With his other hand, he begins to wrap the purple silk tie, weaving it intricately between your forearms until both of your wrists are confined side by side.

He pushes your arms above your head, firmly planting your hands against the pillows. "Keep these here or you'll be punished."

You raise an eyebrow at that, wondering what sort of punishment you might incur if you disobey him. For a moment, you're thrust back to a year ago. The flicker of a monster that isn't a monster flashes before you. But, no, this Yoongi isn't like that. This might be a different side of him, but it's nothing like it was then. He's a safe space. You're safe.

Your momentary inner turmoil must go unnoticed, Yoongi's attention focused on extruding the blade of his pocket knife. "It's the same one," you muse, your words finally drawing his attention.

"It was a gift from my mother, the first and last gift I ever received...until I got you," he adds with a soft smile. "I won't use it if you really don't want me to," he whispers, his eyes flicking between the tip of the knife and your face.

That knife signifies more than just a kink for you. It's a turning point in your relationship with Yoongi. A reminder of what happened at the cabin, what he was willing to do to ensure your safety from a monster you weren't even aware was lurking in the dark waiting to pounce on you.

Before you realize what you're doing, your hands are lifting from the pillow, intent on touching him to soothe any worries. His eyebrows snap up in surprise before he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. "Ah ah, what are you doing? Already disobeying me it seems."

Your hands instantly drop back to the pillow, your brow furrowing and your lips pouting slightly. "That's not fair, I was only going to try and comfort you. Let you know it was okay to use the knife...that I want it."

With your words, his cock bobs against his stomach and his pupils blow even wider if that's possible. "I'm still going to have to punish you, princess." A flick of his wrist brings the knife point down, aimed right at your right breast. "Have you ever thought about getting these pierced?" he questions softly, grazing the tight bud of your nipple with the tip of the blade. It's not enough to hurt, but the sensation has you mewling all the same.

"W-would you like that?" you ask in turn, watching as he maneuvers the blade and glides it over your other nipple.

One of his shoulders kicks up in a nonchalant way. "Maybe." He presses the knife flat along your ribs, the hilt resting on your hip and the point barely a whisper against the underside of your breast as it heaves with your panting breaths. Yoongi shifts forward on his knees, pressing his thighs to the backsides of yours. His free hand comes up between your thighs, fingers trailing through your still-wet folds. "I'm going to fuck you again now and I won't be gentle about it." His eyes bore into yours. "This is my pussy," he accentuates his words with a quick slap against your now throbbing clit.

"Holy fuck," you wheeze, catching yourself before your hands lift off the pillow again.

All it takes is a shift of his hips and he's sliding back in. There is a slight intrusive pain with the stretch, but it's quickly replaced with a burning ache from how fast and hard his hips are pistoning forward. Your whole body rocks with each thrust, the air siphoned right from your lungs as it escapes in a cascade of moans.

His gaze is zeroed in on the knife and how it presses into your skin. You can feel the cool metal and smooth bone hilt with stark clarity, hyper-aware of how close the underside of your breast comes to the sharp point each time your body bounces. Yoongi's other hand grips your hip, holding you in place so you don't slide away with his relentless pounding.

The knife begins to migrate, moving slowly up through the valley between your breasts until it rests just in the hollow of your throat. You can feel the way your heart hammers against your ribcage, like it's frantic to get away from the glinting blade. "Your skin looks so good under my blade," he murmurs, the praise hooked with a groan. "So soft, so delicate...so easy to bleed. Fuck." The curse is a growl as he snaps his hips forward and grinds against you before pulling back just to snap forward again. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this, wanted you." The knife clatters to the floor, Yoongi having tossed it to the side. "I've needed you, needed this," his words continue to tumble out as he drops his body down against yours, arms sliding under you to hold you to him. His hips still work relentlessly, achieving a deeper stroke from this angle. In just a few thrusts, you're riding the edge of another orgasm.

"It feels so good," you whine, undulating your hips in time with his, seeking the release your body so readily craves.

Yoongi moans into your chest, pressing his sweaty forehead to your shoulder. "God, I fucking...fuck me, princess, I fucking love you."

His confession rolls through you, his own tsunami that batters against your desolate shore. It's torrential, the resulting explosion. You feel the instant surge of warmth as Yoongi begins to cum, followed by the aching pulse of your own release as if greedily sucking him in.

You both lay there for a long time. Content to just bask in the afterglow, heedless of the mess oozing from around Yoongi as he slowly softens inside you. He doesn't withdraw, just gathers you in his arms and rolls to his side. His arms cradle you against his chest, your legs intertwined with his.

You fall asleep like this, a mess of fluids and emotions. It's tempting to question him, to find out if that was a confession fueled by the passion of the moment or if it was a statement of fact. Either way, you're not sure you want to know the answer...not sure you could survive the answer. Because, in the end, you don't know if you'll get to keep him. And that's what you're now realizing you really want. Him, just him. 💔💔💔

In the morning, you're both back at the dining table. Thoughts of last night are put on the back burner for now. Yoongi has a special program pulled up, attempting to hack into Marcus Kingston's company databases. When you asked him if he was trying to dig into the investigative services company, he casually informed you he was actually going for both. He wants access to his attorney files just as much as he wants access to the investigation side.

"Isn't that illegal?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Like, super illegal...hacking into court documents, lawyer-client privacy and all that?"

He just laughs. "You realize all of this is illegal, right? Everything I do is...well, mostly."

Fair point. Sometimes it's hard to see the world through a lens that isn't inherently morally gray any longer. The sense between right and wrong has been skewed over the years of living with a literal organized crime syndicate. Granted, you don't get to see much of it firsthand, but you don't need to in order to know what happens. During your time at the estate, you were subjected to more blood-curdling screams and gunfire than any typical action or horror movie contained. You suppose you've become desensitized to it. Well, with the exception of the occasional time Yoongi comes home with a new stab or bullet wound. Warsaw was only the first over the last six months. He works regularly for his father, coming home battered and bruised just as much as not.

"So, how long will this take? Are you looking for anything in particular?" Decaf coffee might seem counterproductive to most, but Yoongi enjoys it and it's been growing on you. You take a tentative sip of the hot liquid, relishing the bloom of the slightly sweet coffee creamer on your tongue. He drinks it black, which is fine, just not for you.

He nods to his cup when you hold up the decanter sitting on the table after setting your own cup back down. "Think of it like pressing control F on a keyboard, I'm just searching through the files using keywords. Anything that's triggered will be grabbed and put into a file for me," he explains as you pour him more coffee.

"Wait, searching, as in actively? You're already in?"

He chuckles, giving you a warm smile that crinkles his eyes behind his glasses. "Don't be too impressed. Kingston is an idiot, his firewall infrastructure was just begging for me to tear it down. I was able to slip in completely undetected. We should have enough data to start reviewing in maybe an hour or so, I imagine."

You're still a bit bewildered over the whole thing, watching Yoongi expertly handle his technology. "How did you manage all of this anyway? The network, the ability to hack," you ask, exaggerating the last word in a stage whisper.

His lips purse out. He rolls them between his teeth before they pop back out with an audible sound. "Well, this isn't exactly the life I wanted for myself, all things considered. When I was adopted from Mathers Home For Boys, I thought maybe the biggest obstacle I'd face was whether I wanted a golden retriever or a cocker spaniel to run around in the white picket fence I surely thought Netty and The Hitman had." A lopsided grin tugs his lips to the side, the movement catching your eye and for a moment you're sucked back into last night. Your first real kiss. "But, as we both know, that wasn't the case." You're pulled from the memory as he continues, "When I realized what was in store for me, I decided I needed to start making an escape plan. Now, that's not exactly something that can just happen overnight. I had to be smart about it, I learned the ways of my father and then used them against him."

"Used them against him?" you question when he pauses.

Yoongi taps a few keys on his keyboard before turning back to you. "His mannerisms, the nuisances and tics for how he operates business. I needed to know what he would notice, how much attention he paid to me, and whether I could get away with doing something behind his back. So, after a few years, I finally had what I needed and started building my escape arsenal." He shrugs like what he's about to say is no big deal. "In order to escape, I knew I'd probably have to disappear...completely. Die without dying, y'know? Become a ghost. I needed a way to make that happen. The easiest way for someone to disappear is through technology. We're such a connected world, that it's impossible to not be somewhere online...even if it's not of your own volition. Maybe you've been caught on a security camera somewhere, or are in the background of a random selfie you didn't know was being taken. Either way, unless you live in the middle of nowhere, it's improbable that you're not somewhere online, which means you can be found using the right kind of means."

"You make all that sound so much scarier than I would imagine it being," you joke, but a part of you feels a bit uneasy about it. It has you thinking about the possibilities. You know you're online, your now deactivated social media pages are proof enough. But, the other parts, the small details...background images, security cameras, those aren't things you think anyone thinks about really.

Yoongi smiles. He reaches up and smooths a thumb over lip where you didn't realize it was caught between your teeth. "Don't worry. That's what all of this is for," he gestures to the computer setup, "I can make both of us disappear with just a few clicks of my mouse."

"Really? That easy?" Your heart pounds a little at the possibility. It suddenly morphs into an idea. Why not do that now? Why waste time trying to placate Namjoon and squirrel yourselves into positions that are uncomfortable?

A snorted laugh disrupts the tumble of your questioning thoughts. "No. It's not really that simple. I know what you're thinking, trust me, if I could click away our worries like that I would have done it long ago." His expression turns serious, the humor fading from his eyes. "When I say die without dying, I mean it. We'd both be dead to the world, but it also means staying dead...for the rest of our lives. We wouldn't be able to live normal lives, we couldn't have friends over for cocktails and a barbecue. No dog in the backyard, probably not even a kid to dote on...we'd be off the grid, remote. Even then, we'd have to be self-sufficient to the point of near madness. That's not a life I would thrust upon you unless it was the absolute last, and I mean last, option."

More things you hadn't considered. Of course that's how life would have to be. The Hitman, you know, has connections worldwide. Deep connections that span further into more minuscule networks than you can even fathom. Being an organized crime boss doesn't just afford one a life of luxury, it also comes with the power of knowledge. Which is far more useful of a weapon than any munition could ever hope to be.

You mull this over, finally seeing a little bit behind the veil Yoongi has constructed. He's smart, smarter than you think you'd given him credit for. He's thought of everything. "So, last option. If it comes to that, though, how will I know? What will happen?"

"If that happens. We run. I won't go into the details right now, it's better you don't know...just in case." Yoongi turns in his seat, fully facing you now. His hands reach for yours, encasing them within his warm palms. "I don't want to ever have to resort to that, but I will if it means saving your life."

It doesn't go unnoticed to you that he doesn't include his life in that statement. Just yours. As if you might run away together, but it's possible only you make it to the end with your life still intact. It's a haunting feeling, the way that thought tugs at your heart. You don't like it.

"What's that?" Your attention is snagged by a flashing box on Yoongi's computer screen.

He turns to look at what's caught your eye. "Oh! Results," he says, snagging his mouse and double-clicking the box.

A multitude of thumbnails pop up, dozens of files ready to be viewed. "What keywords did you use, exactly?" you wonder aloud as you shift closer so you can see the screen better.

"Names, locations, and dates that correlate with the transactions you found." All of the thumbnails are titled with a sequence of numbers and letters, seemingly random. "I might be able to narrow it down, let's look at any files that contain both your father's name and Netty's."

He inputs the search requirements and a few of the documents separate from the rest. This could be another pivotal moment. These files could very well contain extremely sensitive pieces of information that might just sucker punch the both of you.

The mouse icon hovers over the first file. Yoongi glances at you, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Go ahead. Whatever we find, we'll be okay." Despite the nervous smile that curves his lips, he nods and double clicks.

Pivotal is one way to describe it. Each additional file Yoongi opens is like another slice to an already fresh wound. There are countless photos, evidence of your father having a sordid affair with Netty. What hurts the most, though, are the scattering of pictures where you can see your mother in the background, seemingly completely oblivious to your father with his lips locked to Netty's behind a large potted plant in an alcove. You recognize the restaurant and even the dress your mother is wearing. Their twentieth wedding anniversary. You can even see the back of your own head, seated across the table from your mother. The shot is a little blurry, obviously taken from somewhere across the restaurant and at a somewhat bad angle. But, to you, it couldn't be clearer- Marcus Kingston was hired by The Hitman to gather proof of his wife's unfaithfulness.

This revelation puts Yoongi in a sour mood. His brow is pinched, the clicks he administers to the mouse have increasingly become angrier. But what really obliterates the atmosphere is what you find in the very last file. Oddly enough, it's not titled with a mix of letters and numbers. Instead, it has a single word for the name. Erpressung.

It's a copy of a transaction receipt, for services rendered. The emblem for PD Shipments, one of The Hitman's fronts, sits at the top middle of the page, a little distorted, leading you to believe this is a scanned copy of the original document. He couldn't come out and plainly itemize a hired hit, so the lines are vague but allusive enough you can connect the dots. Things like 'cultivation survey', 'Death Valley design unit', and 'waste disposal' make a short but chilling invoice list. It looks like a standard, if a little unusual, bill that someone might incur for 'services'. In this instance, the invoice is addressed to Ruso Industrial Landscaping Services.

"This is dated for two days before mom died," Yoongi whispers, eyes locked on the open file still on his screen. "Ruso. It can't be a coincidence."

"What does 'erpressung' mean?" you ask, pointing to the file name at the top of the document window.

A moment later, Yoongi has a search up. The results indicate it's the German word for extortion. "Marcus Kingston really is an idiot. Who actually names a file like that?" Yoongi shakes his head, baffled.

"He might be an idiot, but The Hitman isn't. Even if these items on the invoice look funny, there is nothing here that could possibly be used to prove anything." You huff an indignant breath. "Who would believe us?"

Perhaps it really took a few minutes for it to truly sink in for Yoongi. One moment he's still shaking his head at the ludicrous nature of Marcus Kingston's fallible ways and the next he's stone still. His jaw visibly tightens, hands fisting where they rest on the table. The sudden transformation has you swallowing, a chill breaking out along the back of your neck.

"He did it. He actually did it." The words are empty, emotionless. "I'm going to kill him!" Yoongi's chair topples backward as he rushes to his feet. It clatters loudly on the hardwood floor, barely covering the sound of Yoongi's ragged breaths.

Before he can take more than a few steps from the table, you're latching on to him. "Yoongi, wait, please! This isn't how we need to approach this!"

Your pleas seem to go unheard, that or Yoongi just doesn't care at this point.

"Let go of me," he hisses, trying to wretch his arm from your grasp.

"No, no, no, please! Please, just listen, you need to stop and think for a moment!"

Yoongi manages to drag you to the doorway of the master bedroom. You manage to lock a leg against the doorframe, bodily blocking him from going in. He pushes against your knee, pressing his hip right into the joint. "Get out of my way!"

"I won't," you stress, vehemently. "Calm the fuck down! Get ahold of yourself for fucks sake. You can't just go off the rails and try to murder him!" You shove against his chest, hard. "Don't be like Namjoon, Yoongi. Just fucking don't!" The last part comes out a bit choked, like the words are lodged in your throat.

His eyes snap to yours. Realization slamming home. "Shit. Shit! You're right." He instantly deflates. "I'm sorry, I don't- I don't know what came over me."

"No, I get it," you admit. "Trust me. I get it. It's a lot and you have every right to feel this way." Yoongi lets you pull him into your arms. "Just have to be smart about this. Stick to the plan, right? Do you think Namjoon might...if you show him everything, maybe he'd believe it?"

Yoongi's chest presses against you as he takes in a deep, slow breath. "I hope so...but, there's only one way to find out."

You slip your hand in his, tugging him back toward the dining room. "Let's finish up and organize everything, get our plan straightened out now that we have a little more to go off of."

It's a solid foundation, you think, once everything is laid out before you. There's plenty of evidence, most of it plain and actually believable. The truth hurts, but it also brings a bit of solace for both you and Yoongi.

The plan is now to present the findings to Namjoon, in hopes that his animosities will be put to rest and his anger will turn towards the real culprit for Netty's life being cut short. Bitterness settles in your belly as you wonder whether or not things would have panned out differently had Netty's and your father's relationship not been discovered. Though, there is still the letter in your father's penmanship that was found in the Tokyo apartment. Something you can only assume was either staged by The Hitman as a decoy, a scapegoat in case someone caught wind of something suspicious, or a stark reality in which your father really did break Netty's heart even if he didn't have a direct hand in her death.

Would your father still have signed your life over to this fate? Would your parents still be alive? How does all of this connect and what pieces are you missing? These are all questions you don't have the answers to and may never, in the end. For now, you settle for just making it through the next few weeks as the plans you have with Yoongi fall into place. If you successfully push off Namjoon's attention, Yoongi is certain the inevitable fall-out between him and The Hitman will be distraction enough for you and him to get out in a way that still gives you a bit of a life to live. Yoongi confided in you that he's certain Namjoon won't stop until he puts a bullet in their father's head...which is the perfect time to slip away, in the aftermath as the powers shift and Seokjin takes his place to rule as the eldest. Your confidence in that playing out just the way he sees it is shotty at best, but you trust him...really, you do. 💔💔💔

"Everything is set, I have it all worked out that after Hoseok's wedding next week I'm going to approach Namjoon, give him everything," Yoongi informs you as he buttons up his baby blue dress shirt. "We're so close. A week in Brazil, then I’ll be home for Hoseok's wedding and then, hopefully...you and I are out of here for good."

He catches your eye through the floor-length mirror he's standing in front of, an addition you both agreed on when you redecorated the bedroom. "Are you sure you'll only be in Brazil for a week? Last time you gave me a time frame, it quadrupled."

"Warsaw was an anomaly. Brazil is a sure thing, I'm just going to be meeting with the new donos, no negotiations or new deals, just an introduction. Easy, simple.”

"Easy...sure. Doesn't mean I want you to go, either way."

His eyes light up as he turns and gives you a quick once over. "Worried you might miss me?"

You laugh, rolling your eyes. The last few weeks, or months, really. It's become increasingly harder to not fall victim to Yoongi's charm. He's a totally different person, here in the safety of your home. He's even better than he was in the beginning, when you thought he was nice for buying you gifts and telling you childhood stories. No, this Yoongi is a breath of much-needed fresh air that you struggle every day not to get high on.

"Don't be so cocky. The only thing I'm going to miss is your coffee. I just can't make it like you do." Your bottom lip pokes out to aid in your pout.

Yoongi throws his head back in laughter. "And here I thought you might actually care about me! Devil woman only wants me for my coffee-making skills." The words tease a smile onto your lips.

"In all seriousness, I will miss you. But I'm also just scared, with everything happening so soon...I just don't want something to go wrong."

Strong arms wrap around you, pressing your face into his chest. His subtle, uniquely-his scent invades your senses. It's comforting, right along with the way his body fits against yours. "I'm not allowed to miss Hoseok's wedding, so even if something does come up I won't have a choice but to put whatever it is on hold so I can get back here. Father would willingly cut ties with the entire Comando Vermelho if it was the only way to get me home on time." You feel his lips press into your hair. “I should get going, the flight leaves in two hours.”

“Hurry back,” you whisper, hugging him a bit tighter before releasing him and stepping back.

You follow him to the front door. His even strides take him right to the threshold. For some reason you can’t shake the uneasy feeling unfurling in your stomach. Maybe it’s just this is the first time Yoongi is leaving for an extended period of time since things have progressed to a new level between the two of you. Granted, you haven’t done anything more than enthusiastic kissing and heavy petting over clothing since, but there is still a new, fresh bond there that’s still fragile.

The front door swings open, revealing a blacked-out sedan parked out front. “Where’s Wenton?” you immediately question. That uneasy feeling doubling up on itself.

“He’s staying here, to be my eyes and ears on you,” he explains in a hushed tone so his words don’t carry beyond your little bubble.

Your lips pinch between your teeth as you roll them. “He could still drive you to the airstrip.”

Yoongi glances over his shoulder, your eyes following his when you notice his posture straighten instantly. The driver, a man you don’t recognize, is leaning with his forearms braced over the drivers' side door. He’s wearing dark sunglasses, but you can feel his eyes tracking your every move. “I don’t care what you think,” Yoongi growls, making his voice loud enough, intending for the driver to hear. He’s acting again, putting on a show, you know. “Get your ass inside where you belong.” His attention snaps back to yours, eyes flashing momentarily with regret.

“You’re a real asshole,” you snark back, popping a hip and throwing up a rude gesture in his face.

He takes a menacing step forward, crowding his chest into yours. “You dare to talk to me like that!” Yoongi raises his right hand, palm towards you as if he means to strike you for your insolence. “If I had more time I’d whip you raw, you ungrateful bitch.” His raised hand comes down and fists into your shirt, hauling you up onto your toes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you’re more reading his lips than hearing his words. “I know you’ve been thinking about it, I can see it in your eyes when you look at me sometimes. I meant what I said to you that night…I do love you. I don’t expect you to reciprocate, I don’t deserve it. But, I swear, when I come back I’m going to continue to try and prove myself to you.” You’re shoved back a step, stumbling as Yoongi releases your shirt. “Your ass is mine when I get back, mark my words.” His chest rumbles as he growls that threat before promptly turning on his heel and marching toward the waiting car. “What are you waiting for? Get the fuck in the car, I have a plane to catch,” he snaps to the driver who jerks back from his lax position to follow the order.

You close the door with a wave of emotions battering your insides. Regret, anxiety, and anticipation all mix with the faintest bit of happiness. You’re still scared, you’d be a fool not to be, but another piece of the puzzle just fell into place. Yoongi said it again. You’re only a little disappointed that he left before you could say it back and even a bit more that he thinks you don’t want to say it back. But, now more than ever, you’re certain you want to…before it’s too late. 💔💔💔

True to his word, Yoongi arrives home just a week later, the night before Hoseok’s wedding. As with your own, and as much as you could gather from Miriam’s account how hers went, it’ll be simple and short. You’ve been invited, only because you’re now officially part of the family- unlike when Miriam married Seokjin. Alina adamantly refused to let any of The Hitman’s family help her get ready. So, as much as you might have hated it, you’re a little disappointed you don’t get to assist with her hair or makeup. You haven’t seen any of the Russians since the dinner party and you’re quite okay with that, at least. They didn’t exactly have the warmest nor most pleasant demeanors.

“Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.” Yoongi waits for you to turn with your back to his front, so he can settle the new amethyst butterfly necklace that he picked up for you in Brazil, around your neck. “You look beautiful. I love you in purple,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose along your exposed shoulder, placing intermittent kisses as he goes. The dress is strapless with flowy, gossamer strips of royal purple and lilac that flutter to just below your knees.

You turn, smiling up at him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you admit, taking in his black suit jacket, pants, and purple dress shirt to match your dress. “You know, I don’t think I mind so much when we match after all.”

“That’s my girl,” he coos, a wolfish grin splitting his face. “I’ve missed you, a week was too long.” His lips brush yours lightly before he groans and presses them more firmly, desperately. It’s an automatic response now, to open for him, letting his tongue dip between your lips.

When his hands grip your hips and rock you forward against his now evident erection you have to suppress a shudder and pull away, breaking the kiss with a weak exhale. “We don’t have time, we’ll be late.” As if you didn’t just reiterate his earlier statement, you latch your lips back on his for another round of kissing that leaves you even more breathless.

“We’re finishing this later,” he pants, his soft puffs of breath flowing over your now moist and kiss-swollen lips. You’re certain all your dusky mauve lipstick is gone at this point and with the flush your lips are sure to be sporting, you don’t even think you should bother to reapply. "Be sure to keep this covered," Yoongi mumbles, his hand caressing the pistol strapped to the outside of your thigh. The flowing style of the dress isn't just for looks, it also helps conceal the Ruger LC9 nestled in its black holster.

"I hate that I even might need it." Never in your life have you ever thought you'd need a weapon to protect yourself. You like to believe you're not naïve enough to think you'd get through life without some sort of conflict. But, it's just not really one of those things you think about until you're put into the situation to have to think about it. "It's just a wedding...what's the worst that could happen?"

Yoongi makes a grumbling sound in protest. "More than you could ever imagine. Don't forget whose wedding you're attending. It's not just my family, but also the largest Russian crime organization. I can guarantee you everyone in attendance will be armed in some fashion."

It's hard to argue with that, so you just let it go. It's not all that bad being armed, just one of those weird power-dynamic kinds of situations. Checking one last time to make sure the sway of your dress still conceals the weapon, you sigh and say, "Let's go, best get on with it before we're late."

Just as you surmised, it's a small affair. Only slightly larger than your own wedding by three attendees; Ivan, Leonid, and Dasha. Wenton's place is taken by Hoseok's assistant, Morris, but everything else is the same. Alina's color choice reflects in the bouquets and flower arrangements. They showcase blood red roses and gold filigree accents. It's all a bit garish, made more so by her gown. It's a monstrously huge, puffy metallic gold-colored thing that puts a good three feet between her and Hoseok as they stand in the gazebo.

Dasha is dressed no less cringy. Her own dress is lime green with yellow trim, a slip dress with slits up to her radical hip bones that tug the fabric in a skeletal way that you find a bit concerning. She looks to have lost an extreme amount of weight since the last you saw her. You don't have much chance to ponder her current living conditions, as the ceremony draws to a close and everyone disperses. There is no after-party, no one lingers to congratulate the newly wedded couple. Hoseok makes a beeline for the garage while Alina begins to throw a bit of a tantrum, yelling at her father in Russian.

You follow Yoongi inside, hoping he'll lead you out the front door to where Wenton should still be waiting with the SUV. Your heart kickstarts into a gallop as The Hitman calls for Yoongi to meet him in his office, now.

"It should only be a minute. You can wait right here for me or go ahead out to the car with Wenton," he assures you, giving your hand a squeeze before disappearing down the hall toward his father's office.

It's an easy decision, you don't want to spend any more time in this house than you have to. Making your way down the entrance hall, you're just about to open the front door when you hear a muffled scream coming from the closed drawing room to your left. Instinct says, not your problem, but when a second scream filters through the heavy door you're pulling it open before you can let your instinct really speak. You should have just kept walking.

The moment the door pops open you want nothing more than to shut it and forget what you see. But, it's like a car wreck on the highway, you can't help but stare. Dasha lays crumpled on the floor, her green dress covered with dark brown splatters. It doesn't take more than a second to realize it's not dark brown, it's red only looking that way on the green. Namjoon is hunched over her, his right arm raised back. Gripped in his lofted hand is a thin, short blade. You watch as a bright red liquid drips from the tip. Blood. Dasha's blood.

You want to scream, your body needs the release, but it's frozen like a deer in headlights. You need to move, to get out of those blinding beams. Only, you can't no matter how hard you try. It takes a moment for Namjoon to detect your presence. But as soon as his head turns and his eyes lock onto yours, your body kicks into action. That scream comes ripping out as you jump back and slam the door.

It doesn't stay shut long, though. You barely make it three steps before the door behind you splinters open and crashes against the wall. "Yoongi! Yoongi!" You've never screamed so loud before. "Yoongi!"

Several things happen simultaneously. You hear a door bang open down the hall where The Hitman's office is, Yoongi shouts your name, and Namjoon pounces. The force of Namjoon's large body barreling into yours knocks the air right out of your lungs, suffocating the next scream in your throat.

The back door flies open just as you see Yoongi sliding around the corner from the far hall. His eyes lock onto you caged in Namjoon's arm, fear and anger turning his face into a murderous scowl. Ivan and Leonid come through the back, hot on his heels, yelling and demanding to know what all the screaming is for.

"Stop right where you are!" Namjoon bellows. One of his arms hooks around both of yours, hiking your elbow high into the middle of your back. Pain radiates down your shoulders as he shakes you. His other hand brings the bloody knife to press under your chin. "One more step, brother, and I'll fucking slit her throat!"

Yoongi's steps falter, the blood draining from his face.

"What's the matter with you, boy?!" Leonid barks, stopping just a few steps beyond Yoongi. "Is that blood?"

"Dasha!" you whimper, her name turning into a wail as Namjoon jostles you and shoves the blade further against your neck, pricking the skin.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screams into your ear.

Leonid takes a step further. "What did you say, girl? I know you didn't dare speak my daughter's name."

"Namjoon!" The Hitman's commanding voice echoes down the hall. "Let her go. Now!"

Namjoon wretches your arms a little tighter making you cry out, tears free falling down your cheeks. "Nah, don't think I will. I think I'll keep her, I need a replacement wife after I gutted the other she-bitch."

Leonid snarls, making to take another step forward but Yoongi latches onto his arm and holds him back. "Let me go, svoloch'!" he roars, trying to dislodge Yoongi's hold. Ivan grapples Yoongi from behind, coming to Leonid's aid.

All hell breaks loose a moment later. Guns are drawn, curses and punches thrown. Guards seem to materialize out of nowhere. You hear Yoongi yelling, The Hitman barking orders, and just the sounds of utter chaos. None of it stops Namjoon, he simply pulls you backward to the front door. You lose sight of Yoongi a moment later as you're hauled off toward a waiting car.

Kicking and screaming doesn't help, Namjoon just chuckles any time you land a foot to his shins. "Don't worry, little mouse, I'm going to take good care of you."

The knife to your throat is finally lifted. Namjoon tosses it to the side, discarding it in the grass. "Please, Namjoon, please just let me go." Your throat is hoarse from screaming but you beg through the pain anyway. You frantically look around, hoping to see a sign of Wenton or anyone else that might help. There’s no one.

"Don't be a spoilsport, we're going to have lots of fun. Just wait." He pops the trunk of the car, grabbing out a roll of duct tape. "This might be a bit uncomfortable, but really it's for your own good." The ripping sound of the tape makes goosebumps pop up along your arms as he binds them. It's not just a simple band around your wrists, something you probably could work your way out of. No, he winds the tape over several times all the way up to your elbows, locking them tightly in place. Your ankles get a lesser sentence, just one thick strip around them that grinds your bones together painfully. Namjoon pulls off your heels, discarding them to the side with the knife. "Try to relax, little mouse, it's a long drive." The last thing he does is slap a strip of tape over your mouth before slamming the trunk shut.

You can faintly hear commotion spilling from the front door, like the chaos has finally followed you outside. But it's soon covered by the hum of the engine turning over and then the crunch of tires over gravel as Namjoon guns it down the driveway. There is a shining thread of hope in the shape of a handgun still strapped to your thigh. You can feel it pressing painfully into your leg from how you’re laying on it. Instead of rolling over to relieve the ache, you embrace it, letting it be a steady reminder that there is still a chance. You have a gun Namjoon doesn’t know about and you know Yoongi will come for you. He has to be okay. He has to find you. If anyone can, you know it’ll be him. 💔💔💔

You try to count the minutes in your head, to judge just how long you drive, but the mix of stifling heat in the trunk and your panicked heartbeat have you stuttering over numbers. The car finally begins to slow, coming to a stop before the engine is cut. It’s eerily quiet in the trunk, even your shallow breaths are barely breaking the oppressive silence. Sweat beads along your temples, threatening to drip into your eyes if you move too much. It might be Fall outside, but it might as well be mid-summer trapped where you are.

An audible click signals a door being open before you feel the car shift a little beneath you. You’re able to trace the soft scuff of shoes as someone approaches the back of the car. It’s impossible to suppress the relieved whine that leaves you when the trunk pops open and you can draw in a breath of fresh air. It’s cold, crisp, and leaves a welcomed ache in your lungs. Though, that relief quickly turns into renewed panic when Namjoon leans in and blocks out what little light is left in the sky.

“Is that her?” A masculine voice you don’t recognize asks from outside your line of sight.

“My little mouse, come to play,” he says to you, a feverish glint in his eye. He casts a look to his right. “Yeah, this is the one I told you about. Is it ready?”

The unknown man barks a laugh and then says, “You pay for the best, you get the best. I’m almost insulted you’d ask that.”

“You’ll get the other half once the job is done. If I know my brother, and I do, he’ll be just behind us. Hopefully, without the cavalry. I might have put a little bug in Father’s ear,” Namjoon’s attention drops back to you, “that our little mouse here has been squeaking a little too loud and sampling cheeses outside the home.”

“You have four hours before my crew burns it down, make sure anything you don’t want someone potentially using against you is inside where the fire will be the hottest. Give her a little kiss for me, will ya? I sure do miss getting my hands dirty.” He laughs again, like this is all some sick joke and you’re missing the punchline. “Don’t suppose I could watch for a minute?” Namjoon turns dark eyes back to his right. The man must see something in his gaze that gives him an answer enough. “Chill out, man, I was kidding.”

“Leave,” Namjoon snaps. You hear the barely there sound of the man's footfalls as he retreats.

The pain in your arms and shoulders blazes anew when Namjoon yanks you out of the trunk. Your bare feet meet cold concrete, ankles still bound. You blink rapidly, getting a glimpse at your location for the first time. The sun hangs low in the sky, just above the distant city skyline. What city, you’re not sure, but if you had to estimate you’re closer to home than you originally thought. To the left is a river, one you’re certain cuts right through the outskirts of the city. A dilapidated warehouse sits ahead of you, giant ‘keep out’ and ‘condemned’ signs plastered over the rotting front. “Welcome to your new home, little mouse.” You can hear the sinister glee in his words as he swings an arm around your hips and lifts you clear off the ground, walking toward a small, open door.

Once inside you wince, your eyes going foggy as they try to adjust to the sudden darkness. Your pupils go from wide to pinpricks when Namjoon slaps his free hand on the wall and the entire space floods with light brighter than the sun. “Namjoon, please!” The words are muffled behind the silver tape covering your mouth, but you’re certain he can make it out just fine.

He walks you further into the warehouse space. There are old abandoned pieces of construction equipment lining the walls, like metal-bone sentinels watching over your descent into Hell. “Does Yoongi like when you beg like that, little mouse?” he asks with a smug grin. “He seems the type to get off on a struggle. Hands around your neck, dick down your throat, watching the plea for mercy slowly bleed from your eyes until you’re just at the edge before he grants you a small breath of life. But, that’s the problem right there, isn’t it? He’s the kind that gives in, he lets up, doesn’t have the balls to go all the way.” You know he’s trying to degrade Yoongi in that regard, making him seem weak. But, it has the opposite effect for you. He’s right. Yoongi is like that, he does give in and let up…because he's not a monster.

You try to mutter out another response, something you hope sounds like ‘Fuck you’.

“Come again?” Namjoon says, reaching up and ripping the tape from your mouth.

You groan, lips blazing enough to rival the fiery ache in your shoulders. “I said,” you pant, “Fuck. You.”

Namjoon’s bellowing laugh scares you. It’s so sharp, sudden, and echoes around the warehouse. “Fuck me, huh? Is that your fantasy? Yoongi not quite doing it for you? Don’t worry, princess,” he sneers at the nickname Yoongi uses for you, “I have eight inches of glory waiting just for you.”

A knife. A big one. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said eight inches. It has a wicked edge, half smooth and half serrated near the hilt. Namjoon shoves you through to a side room, which was once probably an office space for the warehouse. Inside is a setup that has your blood running cold. A large chain hangs down from one of the overhead steel beams. The knife he promised is waiting on a rickety table just beside it.

You barely take in the rest of the room before you’re effectively trussed up like a pig for slaughter. A large hook attached to the bottom of the chain is shoved through the duct tape covering your forearms. Your toes barely graze the concrete floor, elbows straining up to a near impossible angle. “Shit,” you grit between clenched teeth as your weight settles fully to brutalize the already screaming joints of your shoulders.

“If my estimate is right,” Namjoon says as he circles around in front of you. He pulls out his phone, glances at it with a smile, then drops it back into his pocket. “By the time Yoongi gets here, he’s on his way now if you were wondering, you’ll be just on that cusp between life and well, not life. He’ll get to watch the fire go out in your eyes. Probably no different than how the fire left my mother’s eyes after your father destroyed her!” By the time he’s done, he’s screaming the words.

“No, no, no, no! Namjoon! It’s not like that. Netty wasn’t-,” he backhands you across the mouth, cutting off your words.

“You don’t get to say her name!” he roars, spittle flying. “Your father,” he jabs a finger into your chest, “stole her from me! I only wish he were alive so he could watch me steal you from him.”

You’re sobbing, from both the pain radiating along your jaw but also with the loss of the hope you had. The pistol might still be strapped to your upper tight, but it’s proving useless at this point. If you can’t get free, can’t get your hands on it, it does no good. You’re lucky Namjoon hasn’t found it…not that you’re worried he’d take it away, but you’d rather he not turn it on you. Being killed with your own gun just seems like a bigger slap in the face somehow.

“You’re wrong,” you whimper. “It wasn’t my father.”

“What a poor effort. You can do better than that, little mouse. Tell me a lie I might actually believe,” he scoffs, turning his back on you and approaching the small table. “We really could have had some fun you know? Us brothers, we share everything. You’d have ended up in my bed eventually, probably wouldn’t have left either.” He chuckles, finding humor in his musings. “Though, Yoongi is probably my only brother that I haven't completely figured out. He’s a hard worker, obedient and jumps when he’s told to. Then you came along,” he turns back to face you, knife in hand, “and there was a change in him. He grew softer, more hesitant. We can’t have that, though, can we? Especially for you. You don’t deserve something soft.” Namjoon steps close, bringing the tip of the blade to rest right at the top of your dress between your breasts. “The satisfaction of watching you bleed might not be the same as if I could gut your father, but I’ll be sure to make the most of it.” Fire blooms between your breasts as the knife tip slides easily into your skin, a strangled cry ripping from your throat. “That’s it. Squeak for me, little mouse, let me hear you.”

You’re not sure how long it goes on for. Could be minutes, could be hours. Your skin is alive with pain, dull and sharp sensations that throb and throb just below the surface. At some point Namjoon shredded the bodice of your dress, the purple fabric hanging it strips from your waist. The flowy skirt hangs like a wet blanket around your hips, no longer beautiful shades of purple but dark crimson instead. You’re fairly certain Namjoon is talking to you, but you can’t hear him over the buzzing in your ears. You stopped screaming at one point, emitting only gurgling grunts that tasted of warm metal. The numbness started in your fingers and toes, but it’s steadily creeping up your limbs and has been for a while now. It’s weird, feeling both hot and cold at the same time. There is an unpleasantness about the way your eyes blink, like if you close them for too long it becomes harder to open them again.

It registers after a moment that Namjoon is no longer beside you. A wave of nausea rolls in as you try to swivel your head and locate him. A distant shout sounds out from beyond the open office door. It’s punctuated by several shots of gunfire. Someone’s calling your name you now realize. It pierces through some of the haze, bringing your focus into a little clarity. “Yoongi?” you croak, seeing a blurry figure appear in the doorway.

“Oh holy fuck, holy fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The voice sounds like Yoongi’s but your eyes won’t focus enough to see the face that looms before you. “It’s going to be okay, princess, I’m here. Oh, gods, I’m here!”

Your cry turns into a wet cough when you’re lifted from the hook. A burning tingle creeps into your fingers before lighting up the full length of your arms. You try to suck in gasping breaths, the pain nearly making you pass out. “Yoongi?” you try again.

“It’s me. I’m here, I’m here.” His voice is choked. “Hang on, I’m going to get you out of here.” You’re faintly aware of him cutting through the duct tape on your arms and ankles. More echoes of gunfire and yelling echo through the doorway from beyond.

“Where is he?” you ask in a strained whisper.

“Ran,” Yoongi offers in a short response. “There were guards, a crew out back. But, don’t worry, I’m getting you out of here…no matter the cost.” He strips his purple dress shirt off and helps you thread your arms through it. His white undershirt is stained with big red splotches.

“What happened?”

“Later. We’ll talk later, I promise. For now, let’s go. Can you walk?”

You nod but it must not convince Yoongi. He scoops his arms under you, cradling you to his chest. This close, you’re finally able to get a good look at his face. There is a cut along his right eyebrow, dried blood on his chin. “You came for me,” the words ghost out of you with a sense of awe.

He only spares a second to look down at you. But it’s enough. You see everything so plainly on his face. “Of course I did. I love you.” It’s like a glimpse into his soul. Raw, unfiltered, and devastatingly Yoongi.

His focus changes, going back to high alert as he carries you to the office door. Looking out, checking both ways, he takes a tentative step forward. There are distant sounds of yelling, a few screams, but no more gunfire. It must be good enough for Yoongi, he begins to jog through the warehouse, aiming for a propped-open side door. You pass a few bodies, men in suits and others in full black tactical gear.

You can see out the door now. It’s dark but there are beams of bright headlights, like the cars were left with their lights on as people poured from them. Just as Yoongi approaches the doorway your world tilts sideways. You have that gut-wrenching sensation of a roller coaster drop as you’re dislodged from Yoongi’s arms before slamming painfully into the unforgiving concrete.

“She’s mine!” It’s a roar that you’re sure would rattle the windows if there was any glass left in the panes.

Namjoon and Yoongi grapple just a few feet away. You watch it, almost in slow motion, as Namjoon gains the upper hand. He lurches to his feet with Yoongi caged to his chest. The glint of metal catches your eye, Yoongi’s pocket knife fisted in Namjoon’s hand. Snarling, he presses the blade to Yoongi’s throat, effectively cutting off his struggle.

“Just let her go, Namjoon, your fight is with me,” Yoongi grunts, his hands latched onto Namjoon’s forearm where it bands across his upper chest.

“She needs to suffer! How can you take her side after what her father did to our mother!” The rage in Namjoon is palpable, suffocating.

“It’s not like that, it’s not. I have proof it’s not like that, you just have to trust me. Let her go and I promise…I promise, Namjoon, I’ll make it all okay. We can take him out together, the real reason mom’s dead.”

“Him? What? Why should I believe you?!” You watch the knife tip dig into the side of Yoongi’s neck, just below his jaw. A small stream of red streaks down the column of his throat, disappearing below the collar of his shirt only to soak into the fabric a second later.

“Deep down you know it’s true, though. None of it makes sense. Suicide, really? Netty wasn’t that kind of woman, she wouldn’t have done that to us,” Yoongi explains, his words not wavering in the slightest. It’s like he’s done this song and dance before, he knows how to tame the beast that is Namjoon. You hope it works.

With slow movements, you shift until you get your feet under yourself. As you begin to push up to stand, your hand brushes over your thigh…across a hard object you had forgotten all about. A ragged breath empties from your lungs at the realization you still have it. Namjoon never bothered to remove the rest of your dress or even bothered with taking his knife to your legs. You distinctly remember him spouting off about wanting you to match the ugliness Yoongi keeps hidden under his shirts.

Yoongi is still trying to talk Namjoon down. His constant stream of words keeps the attention focused on him. Your hand trembles as you slide it under the soaked fabric of your dress, trailing up your thigh until it meets the rough case of the holster. It’s not lost on you that you probably only have one shot at this. If you don’t make it count, it’ll not matter anyway. His words might be aimed at Namjoon, but Yoongi’s eyes are cut to you, watching as you gingerly withdraw the pistol he made sure you had strapped to your thigh.

“…brothers mean more than this because…” His warm brown eyes meet yours as his words to Namjoon trail off.

“Because why?” Namjoon prompts from Yoongi. “Because why, finish your fucking sentence!”

“Because sometimes in life we have to make hard decisions. Decisions we know will hurt, even if we also know they’re the right ones to make. Life isn’t always fair, in fact, most of the time it’s a pure bitch. But, what matters, in the end, is that we tried, we did what we had to do, and we did it with no regrets because it was the right thing to do. The. Right. Thing. To. Do.” He gives you a nod, a sad smile on his lips. “It’s okay, it’ll always be okay.”

It’s a slight possibility, being able to shoot Namjoon without also hitting Yoongi. Even if you had hours of gun range experience under your belt, which you sorely don’t, you know it’d still be a slim chance. Yoongi is telling you it’s okay, he understands and you have to do this even if you don’t want to.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Namjoon grunts, forcing the knife harder against Yoongi’s throat.

“Love doesn’t have to make sense.” The words are whispered. Yoongi’s eyes are holding steady on yours as you raise the gun, take aim, and pull the trigger.

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Back to Master List ©️   2022-08-30   ColorMePurplex2

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts #bts yoongi #bts smut #bts mafia au #bts reader insert #bts enemies to lovers #bts dark au #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #kinky yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bangtanwritershq #mafia yoongi #bts arranged marriage au #yoongi arranged marriage #bts angst

[jiminiereads]

fic recs: bts ii

disclaimer: some fics contain mature content, so minors DNI!!!!

jin

on the ropes @raplinesmoon a | s - wc: 18k

ex-boxer!jin, lawyer!reader, infidelity!au

stay with me @bts-trash-blog f

long-distance relationship, established relationship

give me love @taleasnewastime s | f - wc: 6.1k

established relationship!, pwp

night drive @minimonojoon f - wc: 3k

best friends to lovers!au, groomsmen!jin x bridesmaid!reader

i’m all yours @sailoryooons f - wc: 2.3k

best friends to lovers!au, idiots to lovers!au, so so soft!!

yoongi

speak now @vminity21 a | s - wc: 2.4k

friends to lovers!au, bride-to-be!reader

almost @bluewhale52 f - wc: 1.9k

established relationship!au, idol!au, wife!oc

like flowers we bloom @cupofteaguk f - wc: 5k

bad boy!au

no rebounds (series) @joheunsaram a | f | s - wc: 16k

marriage!au

hobi

the ick @taleasnewastime f - wc. 6k

friends to lovers!au

namjoon

first christmas @spideyjimin f - wc: 2.2k

established relationship!au, christmas!au, parents!au

how i love you @ahundredtimesover a | f | s - wc: 28.3k

established relationship!au, husband!namjoon

cruise control @lavienjin s | f | slight a - wc: 13.6k

street racer!au, doctor!reader

somewhere between the lines @caelesjjk s | a | slight f - wc: 9.8k

divorce!au, exes to lovers??

i love you @ughseoks f - wc: 1.8k

established relationship!au, slice(s) of life!au

doom boy @raplinesmoon a | s | slight fluff - wc: 14.2k

mafia!au, established relationship!au, namjoon thought he escaped his past…

class act @jvngkook97 f | s | a - wc: 4.7k

college!au, jock!namjoon, introverted!reader, strangers to lovers!au

an affair of the art @raplinesmoon f | slight a - wc: 1.3k

husband!namjoon, new parents!au, dad!namjoon, art enthusiasts!au

jimin

lovely demons @kpopfanfictrash a | s - wc: 41.7k

fantasy!au, enemies to lovers!au

serendipity (series) @sopebubbles a | f

idol!au, pregnancy!au, smau and written

lust @adonis-koo s - wc. 11k

demon!au, strangers to lovers

taehyung

heart of the flame (series) @chateautae a | s | f

roommates!au, friends to lovers!au

in bloom @untaemedqueen a | f | s - wc: 6.2k

tattooed&pierced!taehyung, tattoo artist!taehyung, florist!reader, married!au, family!au

farmer boy, i love you @strawberrynamjoon a | f | s - wc: 35k

farming!au, enemies to lovers

breath of spring @cupofteaguk f - wc: 9k

florist!au, strangers to lovers

girl code @allysonhope f | slight a - wc: 7.4k

friends to lovers!au, oc tries to respect girl code

come back home (series) @another-army-spot a | s | f

dad!taehyung, teen parents, exes to lovers

the odds on us @jimilter a | s | slight f - wc: 15.5k

exes to lovers!au

jungkook

crush @jungxk light a | f | s - wc: 5.1k

memory loss!au, established relationship!au, dad!au

a lover’s bond @latetaektalk heavy a | f - wc: 18.7k

greek mythology! AU- specifically orpheus and eurydice! AU

marry me? @bebejungkook f - wc: 0.7k

established relationship!au, gamer!jk, crybaby!reader

this is how you fall in love @jeonqkooks s | f - wc: 9.3k

rockstar!jk, established relationship!au

down and down @koorara a | f - wc: 12k

mma fighter!jk, exes au

put your head on my shoulder @koorara slight a | f | s - wc: 10k

married!au, husband!jk

alien invasion @nocturnal-jeon f

fiancée!jk, new dad!jk

the reconnect @bonny-kookoo s | a | f - wc: 12.5k

exes to lovers!au, one night stand!au, dad!jungkook

bleeding for you @mercurygguk a | f - wc: 3.3k

EMT!jk, fiancé!au, car crash

inkling @gguksgalaxy a | s - wc: 17.7k

tattoo artist!jungkook

love in the dark @spideyjimin s | a f - wc: 18k

ceo au, forbidden romance au, established relationship au, exes to lovers

the truth untold @crispy-chan a | f - wc: 26k

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lover @wnderkoo f - wc: 2.1k

established relationship!au, break up!au (BUT NOT REALLY)

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established relationship!au, crack, jk tries to be hard dom

under your skin @bonny-kookoo s | f | slight a

strangers to lovers!au, tattoo artist!jk, shy!reader

what if i love you too much? @taleasnewastime s | f | a - wc: 20.6k

neighborhood!au, single mom!reader

busted @btsgotjams27 f | slight smut (suggestive) - wc: 0.8

husband!jk, biker!jk (enough said)

#bts fic rec #bts imagines #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jin x reader #jin fluff #jin angst #seokjin imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bangtan rm #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[star-my]

Vixen ~ Three (Final)

➼ Pairing: Jimin x OC (Shin Ara)

➼ Length: 6k

➼ Rating: pg-15

➼ Content: Arranged Marriage AU, CEO AU, Mafia AU | TW: Vague Threats of Violence; Kidnapping; Non-Graphic Violence (Fight Scene); Minor Discussion of Human Trafficking (not by BTS/SKZ members)| Ara and JK are so sibling-coded; Jimin ships Vixen and JK

➼ Thanks to @moonleeai for betaing! I had this posted at noon and closed tumblr but when I came back now somehow it disappeared into the cloud?? I'm so annoyed ;-;

➼ Taglist: @bangtan-famiglia-net@kookthief@otome-wandering@sarcasticbambi

➼ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of BTS, SKZ, or any other K-pop group mentioned in any way beyond the face and name claims the author made for this work.

➼ Chapter 1 (13/10/23) ➼ Chapter 2 (14/10/23) ➼ Ao3 ➼ Masterlist

ARA, AGE 25, (PRESENT DAY)

A hand flopped around on the wooden table, finally locating the device making that infernal racket far too early in the morning.

“It’s too early for this,” Ara groaned, sliding the call button on her phone. “Yeoboseyo?”

“Princess? It’s Jimin. Sorry if I woke you…” Ara heard a sharp inhale as her husband realised the time. Still, he pressed on. “Um…you know how Park Wonshik adopted me after I was kidnapped?”

“Ye-ah,” she replied slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. Why was he sounding so awake after helping her break up the trafficking ring early this morning? He probably hadn’t slept yet, she realized. Hence, his too-early call.

“So, the police broke up this ring last night and saved a bunch of kids. They called me and asked if I’d mind talking to them, tell them that things are gonna be okay, y’know?”

Ara made some sort of agreeing noise, heading to the bathroom to gargle some mouthwash and maybe comb her hair and hope that putting her hair in order would simultaneously put her brain cells in order.

“So…one of my dad’s old friends was there and suggested maybe…we could foster one or two of the kids who are in need of a home until they get all the paperwork sorted out. A couple of the kids agreed to testify, so they’ll also need to stay close until the trials are over. What do you think? We have really good security, so they won’t need to worry about a repeat kidnapping, and I know we’ve got space and love. You mentioned wanting to help trafficking victims when I was telling you about my childhood…but…”

The longer her silence stretched out, the more Jimin rambled. He was so cute.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great, practical way to help,” Ara agreed after spitting her mouthwash out. “Just let me know how many you kids you drag back so I know how many rooms to get ready.”

“Thank you, jagiya.” Muffled conversation crackled through the line as Jimin paused to speak with an officer. “Sorry, I have to go. I’ll call later, alright?”

“Okay. Love you!”

“Love you!”

Ara put her phone down on the counter and stared at her reflection in the mirror. 

~~~

At 2:33 PM, Jimin arrived home with an eleven-year-old girl in tow. The police officer and Child & Family Services officer quickly checked the premises and living situation, then left, leaving Jimin, Ara, and the girl.

Ara smiled, crouching down to her height. “Hi, I’m Shin Ara. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello, Mrs. Shin. My name is Kim Nabi,” Nabi bowed politely. “It is nice to meet you as well. Thank you for letting me live with you.”

Her shiny hair teased the tops of her shoulders as she moved. 

“I’ll show you to your room, then,” said Ara, motioning at the stairs. “I know you saw it already during the tour, but you can get settled now. My room is right across the hall, so my bodyguard will be close by if you feel unsafe. Have you met Jungkook yet?”

Nabi shook her head, then gave a small smile full of delight as she really took in her room.

Ara and Jimin’s gazes met as they exchanged smiles at her satisfaction.

The walls were a pale periwinkle reflected in the pale blue duvet, the trim white to contrast the wood furniture.

“I hope you like it,” joked Ara. “There are a couple of outfits in the closet, but I thought maybe you’d like to go shopping for some things your own style while you’re here. Jungkook and I will take you whenever you’re ready.”

Ara pulled the stuffed rabbit from the top shelf of the closet and held it out to Nabi. “I thought you might like a friend to talk to while you decide if you want to talk to me or someone else about what happened. I’ve told quite a few secrets to Cookie here, and he’s kept them all remarkably well. He also gives a pretty nice hug,” she smiled conspiratorially.

“Thank you very much, Mrs Shin, Mr Park,” Nabi bowed again.

“You’re welcome, Nabi. I know things have been tough, but you’re a very brave girl,” said Jimin. “We want you to feel safe and at home here. I remember how I felt after I was brought here by my adoptive father. If you want to scream, cry, maybe hit a couple of things, go for a run– whatever you’re feeling, we’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” Nabi said again.

Jimin kissed Ara’s cheek goodbye and left to finish his assistance at the police station.

Ara looked at Nabi, laid a soft hand on her shoulder, and said, “I think you’d like to be alone right now to settle in, but if you want company, my room is across the hall, and the door’s open. If you need anything, just walk in or give me a shout, ‘kay?”

Nabi nodded, and Ara crossed the hall to call Jungkook and explain the situation.

~~~

Ara softly knocked on Nabi’s door for the third time. When there was still no response, she twisted the knob and peered in.

Nabi was sound asleep in her bed, hugging Cookie tightly to her chest.

“Nabi, it’s ten to seven. Jimin-ssi will be home any minute, and supper will be ready. I’m sure you’re pretty hungry by now. Jungkook wants to meet you, too, so can you wake up and get up by seven?” As Ara talked soothingly, Nabi stirred and gradually opened her eyes. Ara opened the door a little wider to let the hallway light shine in, as Nabi had drawn her blackout drapes.

“Hello, Ara-unnie. I’m up now.” Nabi yawned and stretched, then slid off the bed.

“Did you have a good nap? I hope you’ll sleep tonight!” Ara stepped just outside the doorway so she wouldn’t stifle Nabi, who yawned again.

“Yes, I slept well, thank you.”

The two headed to the top of the stairs, where Jungkook awaited. 

“Nabi, this is my bodyguard and best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook, this young lady is Kim Nabi.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Nabi,” Jungkook’s bunny smile shone through as he grinned at the girl.

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you as well, Jungkook-oppa.”

Jungkook grinned even wider at Ara. “I’m her oppa already!”

Ara punched his shoulder gently. “Don’t let it go to your head; I told her she could call us that.”

The foyer door opened, signalling Jimin’s return home. He headed to the powder room to wash up, then joined the little group in the living room, brushing a kiss to Ara’s cheek on his way in.

Jungkook pretended to gag, wincing as Ara pinched his arm.

Nabi was quiet during dinner, her gaze bouncing between the three adults talking and laughing around her but not volunteering much. They drew her in when they could, but weren’t surprised that she didn’t immediately become a chatterbox. She’d been through a lot and was probably still deciding how much she could trust them. 

Ara did manage to get her to commit to going clothes shopping the next day, but that was it.

A large yawn cracked Nabi’s face as Jimin asked Jungkook to see him in his office after supper, so Ara said goodnight to the men and followed Nabi upstairs, just in case she forgot where something was or needed help.

Two nights later, Jimin was back at Vixen’s HQ, meeting with the woman herself. He’d showed up unexpectedly, interrupting her spar with Hyunjin, so she wasn’t in full Vixen gear like all the previous times he’d met her.

She’d donned the mask, but her hair was free, a neat brown-black braid falling down her back, a few wisps curled to her sweaty face and neck. 

“If you tell anyone you’ve seen more of me than my lieutenants, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to break our agreement,” she waved a finger at him.

“I won’t,” promised Jimin. More of her meant arms and feet, since she was only in a black tank top and workout leggings, her jacket having been tossed aside as she heated up.

Jimin noted interestedly that the gold eyes and red mouth was an indispensable part of Vixen’s persona, as they were still visible.

(As two of her most notable character marks, Ara made sure the lipstick and contacts were first in and last out when she switched between Ara and Vixen. He’d just proved her point—though he didn’t know it—that you should always be prepared for the unexpected; you never know when someone would drop in, either ally or foe.)

“So, you took care of the three men?” she asked.

Jimin nodded. “JK and I made sure they won’t be trafficking in the future…or committing any other crimes.”

She nodded approvingly. “Good.”

The tones of Vixen’s cell phone rang and she bent over, fishing the phone out of her pocket. Answering it, she turned around but didn’t move away; Jimin eavesdropped as best he could. “Vixen.”

There was a pause as her contact spoke.

“What? Stall him! Flag him down and tell him I have a visitor! Engage blade if necessary.” With an aggravated sigh, Vixen ended the call and pinched her nose, muttering something about stupid training, then turned with a smile that was clearly false.

“I’m going to need a minute, would you mind waiting in another room?”

Jimin complied, following her to a small room that reminded him of a cabin. She pointed to the twin bed and shut the door behind her. Jimin didn’t feel like a captive since there was a window large enough for him to crawl through, and there didn’t appear to be any bars or lasers to stop him from doing so if he wished. But he didn’t wish to; he was here for a reason, afterall.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as someone came jogging up to Vixen. The tread was heavy, likely male, and the visitor greeted her in a male’s voice.

“Hey Vix, I found out where he keeps the goods- why are you frown- ouch! VIX-mmph!”

That male voice sounded awfully familiar. Jimin frowned.

“Shh! I’m gagging you because he’s. next. door!” hissed Vixen harshly. “If you’d checked outside before you snuck in, you'd have seen his car!”

Jimin strained his ears as the whispers softened and moved down the hallway. However, he’d managed to drop a bug on Vixen’s back as he followed her, so he pulled out his receiver and shamelessly eavesdropped.

“I came over the roofs tonight so I didn’t see. I’m sorry, VIx, that was careless; I should’ve known better. I’ll check 360 degrees next time, yakseokhae.”

That was definitely JK.

“Good. Yeesh, oppa, you almost gave everything away! I had Han ready to rush you with his knife to slow you down!”

Oppa?! Why was Vixen so close to JK?

“Sorry, Vixen. But I found out where he keeps the goods, and I’m getting mine tomorrow, so I need to make sure the others won’t be visible when it’s done.”

…the blacklight tattoos each member got when they were inducted into Bangtan? He’d thought JK was a reliable asset to Bangtan, so he’d invited him to get it. JK was obviously Vixen’s spy in Bangtan, but why?…most of JK’s time was spent on his bodyguarding duties with Ara.

Unless…Vixen was going to take out Ara to hit Bangtan and Grey? But both of them were allied with her, that didn’t make sense. And he knew JK would never hurt or let anyone or anything hurt Ara.

Clearly, more investigation was required.

“When are you going to tell him, anyways, Vix? Hasn’t it been long enough for you to trust him?”

Vixen sighed. “It’s a big secret–half my life. It takes time to open up.”

“I understand. I’ll be there when you’re ready. I’ll leave now…”

Jimin heard JK discover the bug when he hugged Vixen goodbye. 

There was a pause, crackling as the bug was moved, then a dramatic inhale.

“Vix, what’s this?”

“That’s not one of ours…that’s Jimin’s. I thought I felt his fingers on my back, but I didn’t have time to check.” Vixen cursed, and then all that Jimin heard was static as JK crushed the bug under his boot.

The door swung open, JK standing protectively beside Vixen, who crossed her arms and stared at Jimin.

“Fine. You discovered it. Jungkook is my spy in Bangtan. He helped me start Stray Kids, and he’s an honorary member, since he’s technically affiliated with Gray. I’m not plotting anything against you. Happy?” “Why do you care about Bangtan’s tattoos?” Jimin stared back at her.

“Because Stray Kids have blacklight tattoos too, and I didn’t want to out JK’s and my relationship because you picked a spot close to his previous tattoo to add yours. It’s moot now, I guess.”

“Relationship?” He glanced between the two.

“We’re just friends,” they said in unison, then looked at each other. “What he/she said.”

Jimin sighed. Sure. Just friends. Whatever you say.

“Okay, prove it. Do you have a blacklight around?”

Hyunjin entered with the light and JK unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off one shoulder. The Stray Kids symbol glowed blue at the joining of his neck and shoulder. Along his left arm were eight small bands of moon phases, as well.

Vixen held the blacklight to her shoulder, and the vivid blue symbol appeared on the front of her left shoulder, slightly larger and thicker than JK’s. “Happy?”

“Alright, I believe you.” Jimin took the light from her and waved it over his left collarbone, showing Bangtan’s symbol in glowing purple-blue. “You can choose where you put it, but somewhere that allows for easy access is a good choice for easy ID,” he told JK before turning to Vixen. “Bangtan’s tattoos are secret for a reason.”

She nodded companionably. “Same with Stray Kids, hence, blacklight. JK and I won’t say anything.”

JK nodded as Jimin looked at him. “ I won’t say a word, boss.”

“You’re affiliated with three families, JK. Which one are you most loyal to?”

JK swallowed, his big eyes a bit rounder than normal at Jimin’s subtly threatening tone. 

“Yeah, JK, tell me who you’re loyal to,” Vixen buffed her nails against her shirt as she leaned against the doorway, the very picture of nonchalance.

“...I am equally loyal to them. My primary loyalty is to your wife.”

After several tense seconds, Jimin smiled approvingly and patted his shoulder. “Good.”

Vixen nodded at him for his diplomatic answer, then left to continue her spar with Hyunjin.

Jimin and Jungkook rejoined, watching the spar just as VIxen put Hyunjin in an armlock. He tapped out and Jungkook danced into the ring. “Still mad at me for my slip up, Vix?”

“No, we’re good. Foxtrot spar?” She added one of her many code words with him, requesting the use of martial arts plus blades.

Jungkook nodded, and the spar began.

Jimin leaned forward, closely following the pair’s movements. Their sheer grace and long practice of martial arts gave them the facade of a deadly dance, clearly used to practicing together.

Silver flashes gleamed as their knives slashed and parried, tucked away the next second for strikes and kicks.

Finally, JK saw an opening as Vixen slowed from fatigue, her previous spar with Hyunjin lowering her endurance. Caught in a chokehold, Vixen tapped out.

Bowing, the pair ended the spar. Jimin clapped, impressed. “You both fight very well.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison, leaning down to grab a water bottle, opening it, and chugging at the same time.

Jimin rolled his eyes. Totally “just friends”.

Two weeks later, two days before the beginning of the trials, Ara took Nabi to the mall to take her mind off the upcoming event. Nabi now had a varied wardrobe, but Ara was looking for formal dresses for them for a future party..

Nabi had settled in surprisingly quickly, becoming more talkative and outgoing as the days passed, though she was still a quiet child.

She had only been on the street a week since her mom died when she was kidnapped. No one knew who or where her dad was.

Ara had contacted a counsellor for Nabi to see when she was ready to talk about it, and she and Jimin had agreed they’d love to foster with intent to adopt. When Nabi was ready, they’d talk about it. So far, she seemed to love the house, and she often followed Jungkook around like a duckling when he wasn’t with Ara.

Jungkook casually browsed through the men’s section of the formalwear store while he kept an eye on other customers. Ara took Nabi to the womens’ changerooms to try on a couple dresses each. Stepping into the room beside Nabi’s, she froze at the reflection of the man in the mirror with the gun painted at her.

“Follow me quietly and you and the kid won’t get hurt,” he growled.

Tentatively, Ara turned around, hoping Nabi would stay in her changeroom.

Alas, that was not to be, as Nabi stepped out. “Unnie, my zipp-” she stared at the man and Ara calmly, though her eyes were wide with shock. Slowly, she crept behind Ara, keeping an eye on the man.

“Come quietly and you’ll both be fine,” threatened the man. They headed out the back way to the van idling by the door. 

Getting in, Ara felt the dull throb of a needle prick as everything faded to black.

~~~

Jungkook headed to the fitting rooms anxiously. Twelve minutes had passed with no sign of either Nabi or Ara. Normally, Ara asked for his opinion on formal fits; while he supposed she may have decided to ask Jimin’s opinion instead, he was still a little worried.

As soon as he saw the silver and jade hairpin Ara had worn that day on the ground, the needle pointing to the back exit, he knew something was up. Pulling out his phone, he began making calls.

~~~

Slowly blinking her heavy lids, Ara tried to focus her thoughts and make sense of everything. As she gradually became more clear-headed, her memories returned.

Pretending to still be unconscious, she strained her senses to check her surroundings.

So far, she could tell that she was likely in a warehouse (how original) in the industrial area by the Han River, with the smell of water and the faint industrial noises surrounding her.

Nabi was in the chair behind her, back-to-back, either still out or merely pretending, like herself.

Ara couldn’t sense any hostile presence around–evidently, they were still supposed to be under the drug’s influence for a while longer.

Carefully, she pressed her watch button in and twisted it, sending an emergency GPS ping to both Chan and Jin.

Clearly, the kidnappers didn’t expect much of a chaebol heiress; since she was untouched, her eight knives, two GPSs, and five impromptu weapons were still on her. Well, at least they were respectful. This meant she was likely not going to be harmed, at least at first, and they didn’t know she was Vixen. 

She could work with that.

“Nabi-ah, are you awake?” If she was, Ara would have to wait for her prince(s) in shining armour (unless the kidnappers tried something before then), but if Nabi was still out, Ara could fight her way out and then claim a rescue…

She felt Nabi’s hands brush hers, then– “I know you’re Vixen. Can you get us out of here before oppa comes?”

 How- how did this child– Jimin still didn’t know!

“I’ll try.” She wiggled a knife free and passed it through their bonds to Nabi. “Go for blood if you’re in trouble. Now is not the time for guilt or gentleness. Use your teeth and elbows if you have to. Aim for fleshy parts like eyes, groin, or disabling their arms and hands.”

“Got it,” Nabi whispered back. “You’re so cool, unnie.”

Ara smiled inwardly, then began tugging the knot of the rope around her hands loose.

Once she had undone the ropes, she slyly slid one of her knives from her thigh free, using it to cut Nabi loose. “Sit tight unless you’re attacked, okay? On three, I’m going to get our captors’ attention. I already sent a distress signal, so Jimin and Jungkook will be here soon,” she added to reassure her foster daughter.

On three, she ripped the blindfold off and stood up, sliding the knives tucked into her heels out and kicking them off, choosing to fight barefoot.

A quick slash up the side seam of her skirt, and she was ready to fight.

The kidnappers had noticed that she was awake, and five men dressed in black ran into the room. 

Good, no guns, yet. The illegal weapons left traces very difficult to clean up and explain away.

Silently she charged the row of three, using the first’s momentum to tumble the second and third like dominoes.

While they were still reeling, Ara began slicing at the fourth and fifth, incapacitating them by aiming for their thighs and shoulders.

One, Two, and Three regained their balance, and Ara hurled one of her blades into Two’s shoulder as she danced around Three, hitting pressure points to take him out.

On her way to One, she yanked the knife out of Two’s shoulder, jabbing it at his waist and thigh.

One appeared to be better trained than the others as he aimed for a pressure point on Ara’s neck. Unluckily for him, she grabbed his wrist, forced him to his knees, and kicked him in the groin.

Spinning back to Two, she hit his neck to temporarily paralyse him, watching him slump before repeating the motion on One.

Sighing, she brushed her hair out of her face, wishing she hadn’t dropped her hairpin at the store as a clue for Jungkook. He’d have found her soon enough through the CCTVs, and she could see better without her hair flying around if she’d kept it.

A second batch of five emerged from the hallway she assumed led to the boss’s control room, but this time the group was armed and better prepared.

Ara supposed the first group were the disposable, bottom-tier underlings who underestimated her.

Dropping into a crouch, she grinned ferally. Worked every time.

Two and Three charged her at the same time, so she simply crouched there, then uncoiled at the last second. Using Two’s knee as a springboard, she wrapped her legs around Three’s neck, sending Two sprawling and choking Three out.

On her way to meet One, Four, and Five, she gifted Two a knife to the thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery. Oops.

Just before she hit One and Four, she dropped to her knees and slid by, taking their legs out. Rather badass a move of her, if she thought so herself.

Five grabbed her by the hair–rude, but smart— thankfully, it was long enough she could twist to face him and swipe at his knees, then grab his wrist and twist him around.

He released her hair, and she swiftly knocked him out, then headed back to the still-conscious Two, Four, and One.

A quick insurance stab to their dominant arms, and all ten opponents were incapacitated, if not unconscious.

Ara spun to the door, dropping into a defensive stance and re-gripping her blades tightly, only to relax in relief when IN and Felix showed up. 

“Oh, good, you’re the first ones here. Nabi knows– I’ll figure out how later– but as of right now, Jimin doesn’t know, so you two took out those assailants, okay? I watched you rescue me when I woke up halfway through the fight,” Ara quickly aligned their cover stories.

Clearly, she should tell Jimin about her…nightly business ventures, but now would not be the time.

“Yes, ma’am,” Vixen’s bodyguards saluted, then began dragging the kidnappers into a row and tying them up.

Ara reclaimed her knife from Nabi and sat back in her chair, holding hands with the girl.

“Jimin-ssi should be here very soon and we can go home, okay? You were so brave; I’m proud of you. It’s okay now, so I understand if you’re a little scared or overwhelmed. Do you want to talk about it?”

Nabi shook her head. “I wasn’t scared; I knew you’d keep us safe, and Jimin-oppa and Jungkook-oppa would come for us.”

‘’How did you know I’m Vixen, Nabi-ah? And I gather you figured Jimin and Jungkook out too.”

Nabi grinned, turning in her chair to face Ara. “Jimin-oppa doesn’t wear a mask. I recognized him from the night when you all rescued us. That pink hair is kind of distinctive. I thought Jungkook-oppa worked for Vixen, but then I saw him with Jimin at the police station. I didn’t know till you woke me up for supper the first night; the way you talked to me and approached me was just like Vixen. And then I saw you with Jungkook-oppa and you were close to him like Vixen was.”

“Is that why you were watching us all so closely?” Ara had a revelation. “I just thought you didn’t trust us yet.”

Nabi nodded proudly. “I was trying to figure out who knew what about who.”

Ara smiled at Nabi and smoothed her hair down. “You are a very clever girl– you’re the first person to figure out that Shin Ara and Vixen are the same person. Everyone else who knows, I told. Have you figured out what everybody knows by now?”

“I think so…you and Jungkook-oppa know each other and Jimin-ssi, and he knows Jungkook-oppa but not you?”

Ara nodded, “Good job, Nabi-ah. Jimin’s family and mine are allies, and Jungkook works for both of them, Gray and Bangtan. He also works for my –Vixen’s– family, Stray Kids. Jimin-ssi and my appa both do not know about me being Vixen, but I think I should tell them now, don’t you?”

Nabi nodded. “Secrets should be kept few and far between.”

“Wise wor-”

Their talk was interrupted by a group of armed men bursting in, guns in hand.

Ara and Nabi blinked back at Jimin’s wide gaze. “You’re safe!”

He holstered his gun and anxiously looked them over. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, pulling Ara into a hug, then Nabi. “What happened?”

“We’re fine, Jimin. Nabi is probably a bit more anxious than she lets on, but we’re fine,” Ara ran her hand down his chest soothingly, feeling the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

Jimin pulled back to examine Ara's face. “Why is there blood on you?”

“Oh, it's not mine, it’s…theirs…” Ara waved at the neat row of captives guarded by Felix and IN. “They took those guys out and rescued Nabi and me. Jungkook called them, saying we were in trouble.”

Ara had to have some last fun as Vixen, before she unmasked. Unable to resist, she asked in a loud whisper, “Why are there so many of you and why did you have a gun?!”

Jungkook coughed loudly to cover his laughter at Ara’s acting. Felix and IN exchanged grins, turning their backs to ‘guard the prisoners’.

The rest of Jimin’s squad of six looked awkwardly around, invested in the drama and wondering how their boss was going to get out of this jam.

Panic flashed through Jimin’s eyes. “Uh…why don’t we get you home and have a doctor look at you, jagiya. You must have been so scared, Nabi-ah. Let’s go home, hm? I think Mrs Lee was stress-baking up a storm.”

Jungkook slipped out to start the car and told Jimin quietly, but loud enough for Ara to get the message, “I called Dr. Hyunjin– he’ll understand. I have Lady’s men ready to help; I called her guys after you and Jin-hyung.”

“Thanks, JK.” Jimin escorted his girls to the car, leaving Jungkook to drive home while he fussed over them in the backseat.

Ara waited till Nabi showered and Hyunjin okayed her to do anything, much to her husband’s chagrin.

Nabi went straight to bed, and Hyunjin told Ara and Jimin that she was healthy, with no side effects from the drug used to knock them out, and was only stressed, though less so than he’d expected.

Ara was touched by Nabi’s faith in her and her guys. 

Hyunjin said good night and all the attention was on Ara. She willingly took a shower, conceding to that after adamantly refusing Hyunjin’s checkup.

Finally, so Jimin would stop worrying, she agreed to give him five minutes to reassure himself that she was indeed feeling 100%.

Ara perched on the counter in her ensuite, her towel wrapped around her neatly and another on her head to keep her hair from dripping in her face.

Cupping Jimin’s face in her hands, she looked him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, yeobo.”

“It’s not your fault, jagi,” Jimin protested immediately.

“Not the kidnapping, no, but the worrying, yes. There’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t freak out, okay?”

Jimin nodded warily, his eyes full of questions.

Ara grimaced, then said. “I know you’re Park Jimin, Head of the Bangtan mafia.”

His face jerked out of her hands. “What? No, I’m not– where did you–”

“Sh, I know, Jimin.” She cupped his face again. “I know Appa is Shin Jungok, head of the Gray mafia. I know my oppas work for you and him as mafiosos. I know your friends aren’t just your friends, they’re also mafia. I know my friend Minho is mafia. The reason I know all this is because…I’m mafia. I’m Lady Vixen.”

Jimin pulled his face away again to stare at her, his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

“I know I was never supposed to know who you all are, but I have since I was twelve. I started planning Vixen then; Kookie helped me. When I was seventeen and Kook was my full-time bodyguard and we could sneak around, I became Vixen.”

“I…don’t believe you.”

Ara hopped off the counter and exited the bathroom, heading for her closet. She changed into jeans and a blouse, then slid her shoes on. “Follow me if you dare.”

Jimin took her hand, confused and curious, as Ara led him to Jungkook’s bike in the garage.

They hopped on, Ara revved, and they sped off, Ara making evasive manoeuvres and pulling over randomly to ensure no one would follow them.

Ara casually strolled up to Vixen’s HQ, D9, and entered her fingerprint, eight-digit code, and eye scan after a moment’s pause.

She headed straight to the back, to Vixen’s room, waving briskly at the sparring members of her mafia gathered in the main room, and pressed on a panel in the wall.

The panel popped out and Ara reached in, removed a small package, and slipped her contacts and fangs in. A small tube of lipstick sat on a shelf, and Ara carefully applied a coat. The mask went on, the jacket was zipped up, and her boots laced up.

Dumbfounded, Jimin watched as his wife did a slow twirl in front of him, a smug smirk on her face. The entire transformation took five minutes.

“You’re really Vixen.”

“Yup.”

Hyunjin popped in with the blacklight again and Ara confirmed her SKZ tattoo on her shoulder. “Thanks, Jinnie. Can you ask the others to come see me in a minute, please?”

In the minute they were left alone, Ara sat behind her desk and kicked out a chair for Jimin to sink into. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner–for worrying you without reason. I was actually the one who knocked out the guys; Innie and Lix got there after. That’s why I was bloody.”

Hyunjin reentered with IN and Felix, handing Jimin a bundle.

He unwrapped it to discover six knives and two stilettos, which caused him to turn to Ara in confusion.

She smirked. “I never go out unarmed. I also have a GPS in each watch and a few of my larger jewellery pieces. I could also have utilized the belt on my skirt and my necklace as weapons, if I so wish. Unfortunately, I had to leave my hairpin behind, but I often wear my hair up in pins because they double as an excellent weapon in a pinch…especially if they’re modified. All this is to say, I’m sorry for worrying you earlier, and I can take care of myself, so please don’t worry if something like this happens again.”

Jimin stared at her, taking in this whole other side of his wife he’d overlooked before. “Wow, you really are a vixen.”

She tossed him a wink, a proper one, as Seungmin, Minho, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung entered. 

“Sup, Vix? Oh…”

“Yep, I told him. Thought he might like to know some of my most trusted men, so he can reassure himself about everything.”

Once her men gave a succinct explanation of their path to Stray Kids and left, the couple were left alone, silence blanketing Vixen’s office.

Jimin leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “You’re really something, jagiya.”

The faint sound of people sparring elsewhere in the building filtered through the air while he collected his thoughts.

“I want to be angry that you hid all this from me, but I can’t really without being a hypocrite. Thank you for telling me now.”

Ara sighed in relief. “Thank you for accepting this part of me. Shall we agree to keep no more secrets?”

The two shook hands solemnly. “No more secrets.”

“Oh, by the way…Nabi figured you out the first night she stayed with us because you don’t wear a mask, and also because of your pink hair. She found me out because Vixen and Ara approached her the same way.”

Jimin sputtered and Ara giggled.

“We have a future menace to society and the underworld on our hands.”

Park Jimin and Shin Ara exited the courthouse, their bodyguards shielding them and their new daughter from the paparazzi.

Once the trial was over and the traffickers harshly sentenced, Nabi relaxed more and was able to enjoy life.

She’d readily agreed to Jimin and Ara’s proposal and was delighted to become a Park.

Secretly, she was dying to know which Family she’d join when she grew up, but wisely didn’t say anything about it.

Now, the papers were signed, sealed, and filed, and Kim Nabi was officially Park Nabi.

In honour of the occasion, Bangtan and Stray Kids had collaborated again to open Black Swan, a restaurant that would be Nabi’s future, if she so desired.

Bangtan and Gray had also collaborated to open Blue and Grey, the last bar in the Blue string owned by Jungok.

He’d been thoroughly shocked to find out his little girl had known for a long time about his secondary business, and how she had twisted his most trusted men around her little pinky (Jin and Namjoon had been glared at for weeks after Ara spilled the beans), but he was proud of her ambition and success, even though he wished she had stayed on the legal side of things.

~~~

Jimin crawled into bed beside Ara and flipped off the light, turning to pull her to him.

“How is everything going? You’ve been pretty busy lately,” she murmured, cuddling into his body heat.

“It’s calming down now, thankfully. The worst part is seeing you less.”

“Flatterer,” she said, but Jimin heard the smile in her voice. “I miss you too, when you’re busy like this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, enjoying her angelic appearance as the moonlight fell across her face. They lay there, cuddling in silence for a while, until a thought struck Jimin. He’d been getting used to talking to Ara about his mafia issues, knowing that she’d understand him better now.

“Yoongi is looking for a wife.”

“Oh?” Sheets rustled as Ara pulled away a bit, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, for some reason he wants a wife who’s not in a gang. You know anyone?”

Ara made a noise of surprise. “Really? Hm…I might! You know how I’m allying with that gang, Seventeen, temporarily? I might find a way. I’ll look into it.”

TO BE CONTINUED…in Godmother: Tigress

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading my story! I hope you have a beautiful life<3

Some fun notes about the universe, if you're interested:

-> 22924514 = Vixen in Alpha-numeric code. It's Vixen's code for D9. D9 is a STAY easter egg.

-> Jimin and Jungkook were both part of the same trafficking/rescue situation. They weren’t together, though, and their memories are fuzzy and black out from that time. Eventually, they realise they have a connection and bond over it.

#bangtanwhq #bangtanfamiglianet #group: bts #member: pjm #type: fic #author: star-my #series: godmother #title: vixen #chapter: 3 #length: 5-6k #rating: t #au: arranged marriage #au: ceo #au: mafia #bts fanfic #bts jimin fanfic #bts ff

[tae-cup]

Caskets and Gold Roses | Bury Me

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: “All of my past, I tried to erase it, but now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name, but we are not the same.” - Conan Gray (Family Line) Genre: Mafia!AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Fluff Warnings: Violence, Swearing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 5.9K A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s my birthday gift to you :)  Other: Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

Previous

    Your father had always beaten you at chess. The complexities of the game were not hard to memorize, it was more so that he thought faster and farther ahead. He’d taught you chess and though you tried your best to succeed and show him that the student can outwit the master, he remained the champion. Every weekend and every break, you challenge him to a chess match. Without fail, he would win. It was never the same, either. The moves cycled. One moment, he opened with the queen’s gambit and the next he was returning with the sicilian defense. There was no counter, in your mind, to his ability to outwit you at every turn. 

    Waking up in a dark room in your old house was not on your yearly bucket list. Well, actually, the list had been quite short and none of it had been fulfilled since the marriage. The list included basic things like freedom and peace in your life. You sniffed the air and, to your dismay, you were met with the all too familiar odor of the basement. To be clear, it was the deep bowels of the basement, hidden behind a bookshelf. 

    While you were contemplating the logistics of dragging your unconscious, completely deadweight, body down three flights of stairs, another thought hit you. Oh yeah. This was where the nasty tortures went down. So, the rationalization of your situation promptly disappeared. All evidence of sanity seemed to go down the drain as you found yourself squinting in the dim lighting. The hum of the lightbulb was starting to grate on your ears and the worst part was definitely the smell. 

    The smell was a mix of mildew and blood—two things that made sense for, well, obvious reasons. You blinked a couple more times and took a few deep breaths. With a couple flexes of the wrists, it didn’t take long to realize the full gravity of your position. You were strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles tied uncomfortably tight. Now it was time to start really panicking. You didn’t exactly have expertise in escaping cuffs or chains, afterall, you had spent your time at the Min house reading books and lounging in bed. The chair was stained a wine red. It was too dark to see clearly but too light to be in complete darkness. It felt like going insane. 

    “This looks promising.” You muttered before trying to wriggle your wrists again. There wasn’t much give on the ropes. 

    “Settling in?” A familiar figure stepped into the room. Your heart began to beat at pace that betrayed all calm you showed on your face. It was funny that even after all this time, the presence of this man still scared you. After seeing him stand over those three bodies in the kitchen on that fateful day, your outlook of him had changed. He had become a twisted monster in your mind; bathed in gray light in a kitchen overcome with shadow. 

    “I’ve seen worse.” You answered nonchalantly, but even Yoongi killing that man point blank had to have been better than this. Your death was going to be long and drawn out, you just knew it. However, it was hard to focus on that part as Mr. Seong began to circle the chair like a shark on the hunt. 

    “Oh, you’ve seen worse, but have you felt it?” He chuckled. Your face must have paled considerably because he laughed even harder. “Don’t worry, dear, humor your dear old dad.” The man finished his circle and stood in front of you. He towered over you, the armrests groaned as he leaned on them. “Not a hair on you will be touched until the Min’s contact us. Then, the games begin.” 

    You let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words to say, but he left the room as swiftly as he came. You eyeballed the camera in the corner of the room. There was a table behind you full of devices you didn’t want to know about. Then the buzzing light went out. 

    Sitting in the dark, you realized that maybe the dim lighting wasn’t so bad afterall. 

   It wasn’t long after you left that Yoongi realized his errors. Of course you had been scared, of course. He was so accustomed to the physical violence, the threats, of his childhood that he forgot your childhood had been different. Your childhood had been psychological torture. Everyday felt like something bad was going to happen, but you had to endure it. He, on the other hand, got a good knock to the face if something went wrong. What he thought were normal sounds in a house—screams, to be exact—came across quite differently to an unsuspecting bystander.

    So he stood, for a moment, taking in the sight of you leaving, replaying it in his head over and over. In that memory, now engrained in his brain, you were everything he truly had left and you were running from him. He pulled a hand through his hair and then huffed in annoyance with himself. He made decisions every day, he risked lives with the flick of his hand, but he never had to understand anyone before. Yoongi barely knew himself, much less a woman who burst into his life like a hurricane. Yes, what a beautifully twisted storm you were. 

    And he loved storms. He loved when it rained, but you made it pour. Finally, there had been someone in his life who was an equal, and he never doubted that. The man just…didn’t quite understand what to do with this new dynamic. He desperately wanted to get closer while drawing away from you. You were all he had and he swore to himself that he wanted none of it. 

    So why was worry creeping down his back? Why were his hands clenching and his jaw tight? He paced, then. Yoongi went from left to right in his office. The place smelled like his father. 

    “Taehyung, I need to think.” He announced at the remaining guard. The man just tilted his head in response. 

    “But you don’t need to.” Taehyung said simply. His eyes were narrowed in a challenge. Taehyung was probably the only man who could look at Yoongi like that. The younger man was his oldest companion.

    “You’re right.” Yoongi admitted, another thing he’d never do with underlings. He didn’t need to think twice about running after you. No, he just needed a plan. “I just want to try to keep this…clean.” 

    That made Taehyung snort before answering, “when have you ever been concerned about that?” 

    When Yoongi didn’t answer right away, Taehyung’s features softened from a jest to an understanding gaze. 

    “I see.” Taehyung murmured. “You’ve grown soft.” 

    “I am not soft.” Yoongi argued, only to be met with Taehyung’s shrug. 

    “Being soft isn’t always terrible, especially with people you love.” 

    Love? Once again, the word was catching him off guard. It always seemed to fumble out of his mouth with no form. He never had much practice saying it out loud and so it sounded foreign when it left his lips. 

    I had no choice but to love you. He’d felt these words for months. In the beginning, it would have been spoken with a hushed tone or an angered huff. Now, the words were sincere. When he closed his eyes, he could see your face. Your eyes had been tearing up again, still red from sobbing on his shirt. 

    He looked down. The spots were almost dry. It felt like by the time they were gone, you would be gone with them. 

    The phone rang, alarming both Taehyung and himself. Yoongi had never turned to look at the phone so fast. But oftentimes, when the phone rang at the dead of night, it was never a good call. It was especially heart wrenching as he made his way over because of the lack of…you. Now he felt stupid letting you just run away. He understood, in the moment, that you needed space, but his men had yet to find you anywhere on the grounds. When they turned up with nothing for the second time, he had felt his heart sink, not only because of the possibility of you getting captured, but also because he had failed to create a single safe space for you in the past almost year. 

    Fuck. Things really weren’t going well, both in his head and physically. He felt sick to his stomach as he picked up the phone. 

    “Min family.” Yoongi answered gruffly in an attempt to mask his worry. 

    There was a low laugh on the other end of the line. The man on the other side had heaving breaths and the phone crackled with every chuckle. Yoongi could almost smell the man’s rotten stench. 

    “Who is it?” He demanded with increasing confusion. 

    “We have your girl.” The man certainly wasn’t Mr. Seong, as he spoke with a crudeness that didn’t befit the other mafia’s leader. 

    He looked up at Taehyung, who remained stoic. There was something in his eyes, though, that made Yoongi concerned. Taehyung’s jaw was clenched, a sign of anxiety. It was not a good situation when Taehyung was anxious. 

    “What do you wish to do? If you kill her, that is no skin off my neck.” Yoongi played it off, but hell would see flames if you died. 

    “Three quarters of your current territory and all the property you have.” A new voice had taken the phone, this time he most certainly recognized it. Mr. Seong. “We must meet in person to sign the papers,” it was an all too familiar sentence, “come alone, unarmed, and we will make the trade.” 

    What would be better? Losing you or losing everything his father had built? His mind retraced his childhood steps. It went up the stairs, past the open windows and billowing curtains, and into the library. There, he would always find his father reading. 

    Then, he was there. He time slowing and the world piecing itself together in a new light. The library. His father, sitting, with a book in hand, on one of the lavish, green, armchairs. The velvet seemed too soft for the rough calluses of his father’s hands. 

    “Yoongi.” His father beckoned. “Come here.” 

    And he did. He did like a lost dog. 

    “You’ve left me.” Yoongi announced, of all the meaningful things he could say. “You left me and now I don’t know what to do.” 

    He didn’t feel fear, because he knew consciously that this place, where his father stood alive, was not real. It was a figment of his imagination while he worked in overdrive to think of a solution. 

    “You will figure it out.” Mr. Min hummed and Yoongi refrained from a scowl. “You know what I always said?” 

    “We’re Mins. It always ends the way we wish.” Yoongi murmured. The words echoed. 

    “But in that saying, it doesn’t quite mean we throw our hands up in the air and hope, does it?” Mr. Min wondered as he stood. While he paced, a smile grew on his face. Yoongi was slowly realizing what he needed to do, truly. Mr. Min had a look of satisfaction. He’d raised his son well, in his mirror image, almost. 

    “What do you do when there’s a problem as dire as this one?” Yoongi had begun to mirror his father, pacing with no end. 

    Mr. Min halted and slammed the book down on the wooden table beside the armchair. 

    “You think outside of the box, son.” 

    And it was like a lightbulb went on. 

    “I’ve got an idea.” 

    “You’re all the same, you know.” You said loudly, as if that would stop the man before you. Mr. Seong’s hands were so familiar to you; every line, every curve. Those hands, that were now polishing various sharp objects, had picked you up when you were learning to walk. They were the same hands that held you steady and angrily opened doors you slammed. 

    “Tell me more.” He mused, as if you were sitting across the dining table. You used to jabber on for hours unless he shushed you. He often shushed you. It took every ounce of your willpower to hold back the giddy kid inside. The kid was screaming: he wants to know what you have to say! Finally! He wants to listen to you! He wants to be there for you. 

    But your consciousness knew this was simply untrue. The cruel way he so carefully rubbed the oil over each instrument made you more than aware of your situation. You were in a damp room. You were underground where you’d never see the sun again. It seemed pretty straightforward. 

    “Come closer.” You said steadily, maintaining your composure. You were doing your best to make this wooden chair look like a throne. 

    He eyed you suspiciously, but placed the scythe-like knife down on the table. It hit the wood with a harsh bang. Slowly, he approached the throne. 

    “You were never going to let me go, were you?” You questioned, much more the executioner than Mr. Seong. Your eyes searched his, taunting him. Go on. Show your defiance. 

    But Mr. Seong had played this game before. He’d taught you it, after all. Just like playing chess, he made the safest move; one that wouldn’t give away too much, but answered your question well-enough. 

    “I always had my eye on you.” He stated, as if it were normal. 

    “If you were concerned about my well-being, that’s great and all, but I doubt you really thought Yoo-Mr. Min would treat me poorly.” You cursed yourself for slipping up. Oh, right. Yoongi. Things had really been soured. You didn’t expect him to come. You had just run away from your own confession, after all. 

    Even thinking about him, the gummy smile and the languid hands, made your heart quicken. That was not a good sign. Based on the smile your father had donned, it seemed that he noticed these facts as well. 

    “You never loved mom.” You continued your rampage, throwing every possible insult to throw him off. You wanted to get under his skin before he knew he was under yours. This comment seemed to hit home, though, as you saw his gaze waver for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t much, but for someone who was trained through trauma to read the smallest of cues, it was enough. 

    “That is simply untrue.” He announced, as if that would do anything. 

    “Hey, don’t take it too seriously from me, I’m the one sitting in the basement.” You tried to appeal to his funnier side, but that man was gone. All that was left of your father was the mere shape of him. Okay, back to the harsh facts, then. 

    “You just like controlling women. All these ‘mafia’ men do. You’re all the same.” You said with disgust. He seemed to shrug that one off, because it was a known fact anyway. And yet you didn’t feel that with Yoongi. This man really had you soft. 

    “Your manipulation tactics don’t work on me, darling. I taught you some of them after all.” 

    “You didn’t teach me shit.” You cussed. You felt yourself slipping. Who was this beast coming out? Your inner being, the spirit locked away through deals and deception, had turned into a ravaging beast. What the hell did it matter anyway? You had resigned yourself to this fate. You might as well make the most of it. 

    “Like father like daughter.” Mr. Seong shrugged. Your shoulders shuddered in laughter and you threw your head back with a wheezing gasp. 

    “You’re right.” You chuckled, your head lawling back to look at him through the strands of hair that had fallen. The room felt slick, damp, and maybe it was because of your heavy breaths. The way your chest rose and fell created a sickly mist. “I’m just like you, on the inside. I’m all fucked up and there’s nothing, nothing, I could have done. I’m just like you because I am you. I’m your little shitty DNA experiment.” 

    “That’s not true.” He said softly, with a fatherly warmth that no longer interested you. He grabbed a pair of pliers and knelt in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements and you knew where this was going next. You flexed your fingers uncomfortably. “You’re so much more than my DNA. You’re my daughter through and through.” 

    The first clamp. The first twist and pull. The first scream made a guttural exit from your throat. Checkmate. 

    He was getting anxious as he waited. Yoongi wasn’t one to be concerned about any one thing, but time was truly of the essence. Yoongi wasn’t anxious, but he wasn’t all too patient either. He thought it must have been a rookie mistake to allow him into the exact house the hostage was kept at. However, Mr. Seong wasn’t known to be an idiot. There was something else at work here and Yoongi was itching to get to the bottom of it. The living room couch was comfortable and Yoongi was anything but. 

    “Mr. Min.” A maid answered the door. Yoongi glanced up at the ceiling of your house. So this was your childhood home? It seemed like a normal family home. The kitchen in front of him, a doorway next to that. Behind him, a panoramic view of Seoul and the quiet footsteps of Snakes in the grass. 

    “Right this way.” The maid chirped. She was pretty; tightly wound blonde hair in a bun and a soft pink cupids bow for lips. Yoongi was having trouble discerning if she was with the enemy or a simple housemaid caught in the middle. 

    He steadily walked towards the dark hallway to his right. At the end of the hallway was an ominous dark oak, towering, door. He almost scoffed at the display of insecurity. One that needs such an atrociously overpowering door must be truly self conscious inside. 

    The door opened with a low groan and he stepped inside. The man did his best not to pat his pockets or subconsciously reach towards the hidden gun in his belt. 

    “Please, sit.” Mr. Seong, the man with all the power, supposedly. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. He’d always been a bit better at the charisma part of the business than his father, but his father had been a stronger fighter. That’s what people respond to, in this business. His father’s words echoed softly. Pain and more pain. Not feathery words. His father had spat that phrase so venomously that Yoongi suffered its symptoms all these years later. The statement only rung further true when his eyes caught the knife that Mr. Seong was cleaning. 

    It was short and small, certainly precise. That wasn’t too concerning. Yoongi was sure he could take the man in a fight with a knife that small. What made his heart quicken was the white cloth that was being used as a cleaning rag. It was covered in blood. And Yoongi knew fresh blood when he saw it. The silver glinted off the mirror to the right of the man.

    The sight almost made him sick. The thoughts almost ran him ragged, but he realized, with a sly smile, that Mr. Seong wanted him to see it. 

    The Snakes leader sat down slowly. In order for his plan to work, he needed to sell the act. He felt like an actor, waiting to hear the magical word to bring him into character. Oh, he was surely buzzing with contempt. 

    “I’m surprised you agreed to meet me in person.” Mr. Seong began. The clock ticked steadily.

Action. 

    “You didn’t give me much a choice, now, did you?” Yoongi grinned as if to say he was a defeated adversary. 

    “You didn’t negotiate. I’m shocked my rival for years would agree to lay down and die.” 

    “I thought we should bargain in person. A sort of last ditch effort now that you’ve got my hands a bit…tied.” 

    “I knew it.” Mr. Seong had a real shit-eating grin on his face. “You love her.” 

    “Love is a strong word.” Yoongi continued apathetically. “I more so need to show that you can’t mess with my kin and leave scot free.” 

    “Oh I’m sure you do. Well, I’m glad we can end this little rivalry of ours without too much blood.”

    The papers were produced with ease. It felt like an all too familiar scene. But where were you? Yoongi glanced to his side. The gaping hole of space unfilled reminded him of his mission. It was any time now that his men should be finding you. He could see it now. 

    The men, breaking in, rescuing you, then retreating. Him, falling back and retaliating with the full force of the Snakes, razing the home to the ground. Oh yes, it would be perfect, and as there hadn’t been a peep outside the office door, he assumed it was going according to plan. 

    “I can’t say I’m glad. How about we negotiate?” Yoongi said, refusing to pick up the pen that was being adamantly pushed towards him. 

    “Negotiate? At this stage? Why, it would be a waste to have to print all of these again.” 

    “You’re about to become a billionaire either way, Mr. Seong. Reprinting a few measly papers to seal the deal shouldn’t be a concern.” Yoongi tilted his head slightly as if to say what gives? 

    “I will give you that, Mr. Min.” 

    It didn’t feel right to be called that name. It still felt like his father’s name. He glanced up at the ceiling. He felt like he was still standing in his father’s shadow, the gigantic mess that he was left when his father passed. But with this little stunt, if he could pull it off, he could step into the light. A new era of the Snakes could dawn. 

    “I will give you half of my land and half of my owned properties.” Yoongi smiled. “I would still be hobbled and you would have more than enough with your current stocks combined.” 

    “Two thirds.” Mr. Seong countered lowly. “Of everything.” 

    Yoongi shook his head back and forth with a frown. “Greedy greedy little man.”

    “We are both businessmen, you know the deal.” 

    “I consider myself more man than business. But you?” Yoongi stood and began to pace in measured steps. “I think you are more business than…anything else. More than a man, more than a husband,” He stopped and gave Mr. Seong a blank stare, “more than a father.” 

    Mr. Seong slapped his hand on the table and stood up furiously. His cheeks were growing red and Yoongi knew he was starting to win. Mr. Seong pointed an accusatory finger. 

    “Just what do you think you’re playing at, Min?” He demanded, his voice barely below a shout. 

    “Sir, I’m just trying to figure out what your true end goal is? I gave you a quite beneficial deal.” Yoongi’s eyes widened with mock realization. “But it’s not about the deal, is it? Or how much money you’ll get. It’s about pride, for you, now, right? You want to show everyone that you’re better than them, that you were able to best the great Min family. But you know, deep down, that you are a coward.” Yoongi walked towards the man and planted his hands on the other side of the desk. “You took the shameful road. Truly. Kidnapping? Disgusting.” 

    Where was Taehyung? They should have found you by now and he was getting tired of stalling. Yoongi didn’t want to get to the point where his real emotions were involved, but he was at the tipping point. This man was truly abhorrent. He found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror next to Mr. Seong. The person staring back didn’t look like him. 

    “Shameful? You want to talk about shameful?” Mr. Seong growled. He opened his mouth to continue, when there was a dull thud of a noise. 

    The noise shut up Mr. Seong and it caught Yoongi’s attention quickly. The house was so quiet now that they had stopped talking and it was making his ears ring. Still, he heard the thud. It came from behind a bookshelf. As he began to analyze the bookshelf, he began to realize that the shelf seemed to protrude more than the others and that the books in it didn’t look quite right. He turned back to look at Mr. Seong and the man was sheet white. 

    No. It couldn’t be. 

    A secret door. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He really was looking like an idiot. Still, he had to salvage this somehow. He backed away from the desk, trying his best to fight off a surprised expression, and tugged his suit vest back into place. Yoongi began to nonchalantly browse the shelves. The odd book shelf was to his right and coming up as he idly brushed his fingers along the spines. 

    “Not a speck of dust.” He mused. “You must have been excited to host me.” 

    “Yes, quite.” Mr. Seong said, but his voice was ghostly and his breath shuddered. His secret was close to being found out. Yoongi had to make sure his hypothesis was correct before making any brash moves, because otherwise he’d be putting the lives of his men in danger. 

    He had reached the bookshelf with the odd protrusion. He tried his best to look as he did with all the other shelves, letting his hands brush the spines. Ah. So he’d really been tricked. Yoongi hated admitting defeat. Still, he must act like nothing was the matter. He needed to think fast.

    “I’ll do two thirds.” The man announced. “It’s done.” 

    “A last minute change of heart? How unusual.”

    “Would you like it or not?” 

    “I will take your word. It shall be done.” Mr. Seong grumbled and eyed the back of Yoongi’s neck as he turned to print the new copies. 

    Yoongi positioned himself subtly, allowing himself to see Mr. Seong in the mirror. The older man was now fumbling to get the printer running. He looked like a normal old man. 

    “The spines of these books are so plastic-y.” Yoongi said matter-of-factly. This made Mr. Seong halt in his tracks. “It’s almost as if they’re fake.” 

    Mr. Seong’s eyebrows furrowed and he started to turn around when he heard the click of a gun. 

    “Mr. Seong, you are truly scum.” Yoongi stated as he held the pistol to the man’s back. He’d never miss at this range. 

    “Oh, you little–” 

    A siren blared, bathing the room in red light. 

    Five Minutes Earlier

    Taehyung couldn’t remember how he got into the business of picking locks. He didn’t really want to recall either. It must have been something to do with his sordid past or the various car escapades. He enjoyed taking things that weren’t his, to say the least. Now, he had the most intriguing prize to fetch. You had never struck him as particularly odd, but he did note that there was a sadness about you. Even when you smiled and called him Josh, he still sensed something…missing. 

    There was a hole where your heart should be. That’s what he’d decided. And Taehyung wasn’t the kind of guy who could put it back in its place, after all, he only ever took things away. He always made holes with no intention of going back to find replacements. Yoongi was different in that way. 

    Since they were kids, Yoongi had always put things back where they needed to be. If the playroom was messy, Yoongi would help the maids put everything back. Taehyung had only sought to steal what he wanted and indulge in his every desire when he played with Yoongi. There were plenty of guys like Taehyung now. 

    “Hey, bossman.” A new recruit whispered as she put a hand over the housemaid’s mouth. “You found anything?” 

    “Yeah.” Taehyung knelt by the laundry room’s door. “There’s a trap door.” His fine fingers, made for the most delicate of activities, found the slight seam. “Alright. Let’s save our darling Min.” 

    The trap door swung open, pulling a wire with it. The alarms were off in an instant. 

    “Shit!” Taehyung staggered back. “Vanessa!” He turned to see a bullet lace her skull. He had no time to react as another pierced two fingers in his outstretched hand. 

    Bang! 

    Smoke from a gun. 

    Yoongi walked behind the desk and shoved the body off the chair. 

     “What a rival you were.” He said plainly. Then he turned to the bookshelves and walked over. Cracking his knuckles, he pried open the door. It swung out slowly and moved like honey. “You were right, father,” He glanced over his shoulder at the body on the ground. “Pain and more pain.”

    The red light blinked on and off, illuminating the room in alternating blood and darkness. He stared down into the abyss. There were stairs, but he didn’t know how far they went or if they truly would lead him the right way. 

    There was only one way to find out. 

    The steps were damp and there was a pungent smell that grew worse as he went further. It was iron and sweat. There. The previously dull thump was now a muffled scream as he reach the bottom of the stairs. With his gun drawn, he leaned against the concrete wall. The stairs had branched into two small corridors. There were two cells on each side of the hallways. He peered over his shoulder. The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzzed. 

    There was no one here. Maybe Mr. Seong had assumed no one would find this corridor and that guards were unnecessary. 

    “Help!” You screamed until your vocal chords were scratched and raw. You didn’t know what state you were in or how you had mustered the strength to even scream. But you had heard a feint alarm. 

    When the cell door opened, you almost winced. The pitch black room was purged with light. You didn’t know if you should cry from exhaustion, hope, or fear. 

    A figure stood in the doorway, but it was a familiar shape and a familiar voice that greeted you. 

    “Yoongi?” 

    “What did they do to you?” Yoongi rushed over and you could feel the air shifting to something deadly, despite your glee at seeing him. 

    “A real number.” You whispered. Your voice was gone. You didn’t have any more strength left in your body. Pulling nails sounded like heaven at this point. 

    You knew you were safe now. You didn’t look at his gentle hands undoing the cuffs and chains or the way his breath came short and panicked. You looked at his face and you absorbed the concentrated quirk of his eyebrow and the way his lips pressed together. 

    “You,” You began with a croak. 

    “It’s okay you don’t need to–” 

     You held up a hand. “I–” You gathered all your will power. “I must, because I might not make it out of here.”

    “No, you’ve got all the time in the world.” 

    “You have always been safety for me.” You whispered. “Your touch, that very first day…” You felt your eyes glazing over, but you fought back the dizzying fog in your mind. You fought back from letting your head fall limp. “...in that one touch, you taught me that a hand does not always mean violence. You taught me that your hands will always be safe… If I die, bury me.” 

    “Stop talking like that.” He said seriously, his face was fallen into deep shadow. His eyes grim as he hoisted you into his arms. “You will make it out of this alive. Save the monologue for years from now. Save it for when we’re old and wrinkled. Hell, never tell me.” 

    “Just listen!” You wheezed and your chest ached. “If I die, take the time to bury me, please.”

    “If those are your last words, I don’t want to hear them.” 

    You found yourself smiling despite his harsh declaration. 

    Opening your eyes felt like a dream. With the morning sun streaming through the billowing white curtains, it all felt like a dream. You didn’t dare move. You didn’t want to break the illusion. Your eyes searched the room. It was everything you remembered, every detail, right down to the missing vase. You were focused on one thing in particular, though, a new addition to the room. 

     “Why are you asleep in a chair?” You coughed and tried sitting up, wincing. Yoongi was up in an instant. He had looked so peaceful while sleeping, but his new expression was of concern, worry. You looked down at yourself. Had you ever seen so many bandages at once? Well, not on a person. Your arms to your legs. 

     “Are you feeling alright?” Yoongi whispered. “I was really worried. You were…saying some scary stuff.” 

    “I remember.” You announced. You were done being reasonable. You were injured, pretty terribly, if the bandages meant anything. But it was the fear lingering in Yoongi’s gaze that unsettled you. “I’m alive, why are you concerned?” 

     “I–” He stopped short. “I guess because, I care for you.” He gently took your hand and it didn’t hurt as much as when you moved on your own. “And I admire you.” 

     That was what made you perk up. 

    “I admire that you are so strong in the face of adversity. You were terrified, I saw it when you first moved in, yet you still found your way to the kitchen and asked for a bandaid.”

    You smiled at the memory. You were so naive, so confused about your father’s motives. 

    “I…I admire you too.” You placed your other hand over his. “And I think I just might love you, but I don’t know yet.”

    “Is it enough to stave off the divorce papers?”

    His gummy smile and the boyish gleam in his eyes made you laugh. It was instant regret as your lungs begged for mercy, but it was worth it. 

    “Yeah, I think I’ll stick with you for at least a few more months.” 

    “Good, because my only other option is Taehyung for company and he won’t stop moaning about his fingers.” 

    “What happened to his fingers?” You asked, bewildered. 

    “Ah, two got shot off, but no worries. He’ll live.” 

    “That sounds like a big deal! Actually, I’ll call over Taehyung and let him know his feelings are valid right now.” 

    “No, no!” Yoongi laughed and it was such a genuine ring that your heart quickened. After you were both done chuckling, a cool breeze blew the curtains once more. 

    “What happened to the Seong clan?” You asked, looking out the window. 

    “Burned to the ground. The few stragglers we’ve dumped onto our allied gangs who need an extra man.” 

    “I see.” You whispered. Then you turned to him and lightly gripped his shoulder. “We’ll be okay, right?” 

    He took a breath and allowed himself a glance into the brilliant blue sky. Then, he turned to you and pressed his forehead to yours. You reached up and gently cupped his cheek. He tilted his head and his lips met yours. It was a soft kiss, innocent and in love, all the things you wished could just describe your relationship with Yoongi. Maybe in another time or universe. Maybe you two could simply just be innocent and in love. Until then…

    “Yeah, I think we’ll be okay.” He breathed.

    “I think so too.”

Fin

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