#min yoongi enemies to lovers

[persphonesorchid]

Hatin' On You - MYG

Summary: You absolutely loathe min yoongi, and honestly, you have no idea why - his vibe rubs you in all the wrong ways. When you and him suddenly find yourselves in a room with a shaman, things get ridiculously complicated.

Genre: Past Lovers au | enemies to friends to lovers(.....the lovers part comes in the sequel lmao) Fluff, angst.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Swearing, Yoongi and Mc are always at each other's throats. Character death, though, it's not too detailed. Yoongi and Mc are essentiallly drugged but not really. The shaman and the past life versions of Yoongi and Mc are not described because I simply don't remember how they looked to recall the finer details, just that Yoongi and mc of course don't look like themselves in their past lives. There's a tarot reading that's very vague but it'll make sense. The switch in the dream sequence scenes are a bit fast but you'll know when it happens. Yoongi calls Mc a brat 👀

Read the sequel Lovin'On You: HERE

Masterlist: HERE

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Notes: This fic is inspired by a dream I had. The parts where the shaman is met, the tarot reading, Yoongi being a jerk ( lmao) and the scenes of their past lives described are all part of my dream. Which honestly was wild as hell? Got me delulu up in here 😭 I hope you guys enjoy this!! And don't worry, there's a sequel in the works already! Which you should look out for!!

Beta'd by the loml @xpeachesncream , who, without her being here for me to ramble about my crazy ass dream and not letting me pass up on a great idea, this fic wouldn't be here. A THOUSAND KISSES NIKKI MY LOVE ❤️🥺

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged!!

“Gonna stand there all day?”

You roll your eyes skyward, hoping to find the patience and the will, to be civil for more than five minutes. Yoongi’s making it so hard, though, you swear – you’re trying.

There’s a resounding sigh at Yoongi’s tone, but no one actually says anything. Seokjin’s car is pulled up to the curb where you wait standing, and inwardly, you spew every curse you know at him for having this demon named Min Yoongi in the backseat.

“I thought Jimin was picking me up?” You say, not actually making a move to get in. Namjoon, Seokjin’s forever passenger princess, is sitting at the front, blinking at you with round eyes behind his glasses.

Seokjin leans forward, shades slipping to the end of his nose and he peers at you over the frame. “He’s getting Hobi and Jungkook. I’m burning gas here, missy. Get in.”

You shift your gaze from him, to Yoongi, who hasn’t budged to the other side of the seat yet. Seatbelt still buckled, arm hanging out the window. You make an odd noise in the back of your throat, motioning at him with a flick of your hand and an incredulous expression. Does he want you to walk around?

“Yoongi.” Seokjin sighs, and the man rolls his eyes, wordlessly unbuckling his seatbelt. He slides across to the other side, and you step over to open the door.

Seokjin has the heat blasting in the car, and you’re grateful for the warmth as you get in and out of the cold. There’s soft music coming from the radio, and Seokjin and Namjoon slip back into whatever conversation they were having before.

You settle in the seat, pointedly staring at the back of Namjoon’s head. You could feel Yoongi’s stare, burning into the side of your head and you refuse to give him the satisfaction of glancing his way.

You promised Seokjin you’d behave, that the few words you’d share with Yoongi – if any – would be civil.

You’ve known Yoongi for years, running in between the same circle of friends. The first time you’d met him, Seokjin had warned you not to take his lack of words and uninterested expression to heart. You hadn’t, some people are like that – you’re aware. Yoongi constantly had his guard up, never letting anyone get closer than he would allow.

It’s not easy to sit in a room with him, even amongst your friends. It’s awkward, painfully so. You’re not sure why he rubs you the wrong way, maybe it’s something about his vibe. The way he carries himself like he’s king shit, able to command a room with a flick of his wrist.

You and Yoongi always bicker, even without saying anything at all. There’s a tension that’s strung between you both, like a tight coil that only curls tighter the closer you are to each other. Like now, sitting a few inches away from him, even though he’s said nothing else to you, eyes stuck petulantly out the window.

You cross your arms, leaning back into the seat, trying to let Seokjin and Namjoon’s conversation drown your thoughts. Even though you could care less about the going ins of their shared psychology classes.

The drive out of town was otherwise a quiet one, with You and Yoongi ignoring each other – save the moment Seokjin turned a corner too quickly for you to brace. Catching yourself against Yoongi’s side, he scowled at you, and you acted as though you touched old, wet food in your kitchen sink.

Seokjin would glance at you both in the rear view, perfect brows furrowed as his gaze shifts between you. He and Namjoon seem to sense the growing, awkward tension from the backseat, and try their best to pull you into a conversation.

You couldn’t be happier to see the flashing strobe lights off the break in the main road. The first spring fair of the season, filled to the brim with all the food you can eat and rides and attractions to get yourself sick on.

You tumble out of the car, grateful for the fresh air tinted with the scent of popcorn, sweets and what have you. There’s a short line at the ticket booth, where you spot Jimin’s cotton candy hair, waiting for you with the rest of your friends like they promised.

You trail towards them without waiting for the others, sneaking over to Hoseok, whose back was to you. He’s caught in an animated conversation with Jungkook, his distinctive cackle reaching your ears as he leans forward with his laugh waving his hand to stop Jungkook saying what you can’t hear.

You poke your fingers into his sides, and the man yells, grabbing at Taehyung and spinning him around while darting behind his back.

“Y/n!” Taehyung’s smile is infectious, and you can’t help your own even as Hoseok spews a couple of swears at you for scaring him.

Jimin leans over, hands on his knees as he laughs at Hoseok.

“You made it.” He says, once he’s calmed, straightening up to throw an arm around your shoulders.

You pinch softly at his finger, “Just barely, no thanks to you,” Glancing over your shoulder as Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi draw near. “You left me to suffer.”

Greetings are exchanged as you all move up in line to get tickets. You’re tucked happily between Jimin and Hoseok, a good two people away from Yoongi as he lingers behind Seokjin, brooding and complaining about something. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you roll your eyes anyway.

Once everyone gets their tickets, and the little wristbands are snug against your wrists, you all make it past the entrance.

The fair is supposed to be here for a couple of nights, with their pretty lights and flashy entertainers that mingle about doing their jobs. You’re not sure where to start first, standing close together like sardines in a tin while Namjoon tries to talk over the sound of screaming children and other fair-goers.

He’s explaining why a buddy system is necessary, as though you’re not all adults that can look after yourselves. Though, you appreciate the man’s concern for everyone’s wellbeing and safety.

You travel as a group at first, heading over to the food stands to get snacks while you all decide what games to go play. Eventually the group breaks apart, everyone finding something that catches their eyes, and you stick with Jimin and Hoseok through most of it.

Hoseok’s stealing from your paper bag of popcorn, watching Jimin throw darts for a prize a little ways away. There’s a little squirrel plush on a key chain swinging from your finger – something Hoseok won over at the cans booth.

Jimin waddles over, a pout on his lips after all his darts fell short, and you try to cheer him up; the games are rigged anyway.

“No, he just sucks.”

You swat a giggling Hoseok, unraveling yourself away from his arm and stealing fingers. Jimin lifts a long leg to playfully kick at him, and you pass him your popcorn, lips and tongue feeling raw from the salt and butter.

“Do you guys know where the bathrooms are in this place? The soda’s finally caught up to me.” You glance around, trying to see any indication of the signs that would lead you to the restrooms.

“Yeah, we passed them back there.” Hoseok points a thumb over his shoulder, but is otherwise too busy to pay you any mind, trying to get his fingers back into the popcorn. He gives you a double take as you quickly walk away, “Hey! Don’t go off alone.”

“I’m a big girl Hobi, just wait here. I’ll be back!”

You weave your way through the crowd, lost amongst the children surrounding a colorfully dressed clown doing tricks. You go past the man with the cotton candy crafted into intricate designs, and the teenagers showing their strength on the meter.

You find the little blue sign on a pole, white letters standing out against it. The area is quiet, away from the tinkling sounds of the attractions and people. A straight pebbled pathway leads up to a small concrete building, a buzzing white light flickers over the bathrooms separated by coloured doors. You slip into the ladies room and quickly sort yourself out.

You’re washing your hands, eager to return to where Hoseok and Jimin are waiting when you hear it. There’s a little sniffling, and a low voice over it somewhere outside.

Drying your hands with a paper towel, you step down the concrete steps and spot the form of Min Yoongi, crouched at the beginning of the pathway.

“It’s okay...”

He’s talking to someone, and making your way over, you realize it’s a boy. The child is gripping a stuffed bear, nodding at Yoongi who lifts a hand to wipe his tears away.

You’re not sure why the sight shocks you so, you didn’t think the man had a soft bone in his body. You stop short of reaching him, and of course he hears the crunch of your sneakers on the pebbled path. He looks over his shoulder at you, for a brief moment, his eyes look hopeful, but it quickly dims at the sight of you. Eyebrows dropping into a glare you’re familiar with.

“Oh. It’s just you.” Yoongi sighs as he turns away, as though seeing you was a great inconvenience. He stands up, offering a hand to the boy who takes it without hesitation.

Ignoring Yoongi entirely, you smile at the child, “Is this big grumpy guy scaring you?”

The boy giggles, and you’re glad to make him smile even at Yoongi’s expense. “Is he lost?”

Yoongi stares at you for a long moment, mouth curling as though he’s not sure if he should answer you or not. Dark eyes narrowing slightly at you, he gives a curt nod but says nothing.

He didn’t ask you to, but you trail next to him anyways when he starts walking. You ask the boy where the last place he saw his parents was; he’s not too certain. You don't blame him, big place like this can be confusing with all the flashing lights that look the same.

“I’m taking him to the security booth.” Yoongi’s words are clipped – tense, as you follow him. He glances at you, “You don’t have to come with me.”

Normally, you’d try your best not to be in his vicinity—it’s better for the both of you that way, but you like annoying him. You like the satisfaction of getting under his skin the same way he does yours. You shrug, taking the little boy’s other hand.

The child looks up between the both of you, brows furrowed, “Are you fighting? My mom and dad fight sometimes, too! Dad said that it’s normal for grown ups who love each other to fight sometimes.”

You choke on air, smacking your free hand against your chest. You’re not sure if it’s because of your saliva getting stuck in your throat, or the burn of embarrassment that this child would assume such a thing that makes your skin flush.

Kids, they really do say the darndest things.

Yoongi’s taking it a bit better, though he looks pale, mouth opening before it closes a few times. He glances at you, makes a face, and promptly releases the boy’s hand. He wipes his hand against his jeans before taking it again.

“His hand’s all sweaty.” The boy whispers loudly, giggling as though your near death was amusing.

“We don’t—we aren’t...” You struggle, eyes darting to anywhere that isn’t into the big brown eyes of the little boy, or Yoongi, who of course, isn’t even looking at you. “Oh look! There’s the booth!”

You follow Yoongi’s lead, to the booth that was well lit, and a security guard is talking to a distressed couple. The man is talking quickly, shaking a photo at the guard.

The boy wiggles out of your and Yoongi’s grips, running as fast as his little legs can carry him.

You and Yoongi follow behind, as the couple turn at the boy’s call for them. Yoongi explains that he’d found him wandering near the bathrooms, waving off the couple’s repeated thanks.

They bow and thank you again before they leave, the little boy securely on his father’s hip, waving at you both. Yoongi gives him a smile, waving back, a smile that quickly drops as he turns to you. “D’you need help finding Jimin and Hoseok?” His eyes flicker down to where the squirrel plush swings from the belt loop in your jeans.

The words are taunting and there’s a gleam in his eyes that leaves you unsure if he’s joking or not. You huff, crossing your arms, “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, the way you act all the time.” He says, walking off, but you’re not letting him have the last word.

“As if you’re any better.” You trail behind him, glaring daggers into his broad back and hoping that he trips on air. You suck your teeth, pure pettiness leading you to follow behind him and not go your own way.

You’re not sure why it’s always this way. There’s a need to be as far away from him as you possibly can be, if to just spare yourself the headache, but also, a need that swirls beneath it to be near. You’re not sure what to make of that and you try not to think of it. Try to bury it down, put a lid on it and leave it to rot in a corner somewhere.

You don’t like him, and that’s just it, there’s nothing more to that, nothing you have to sit and bust your brain over.

You bump into Yoongi’s back when he suddenly stops walking. He hangs his head, turning a sharp gaze at you, “Can you stop following me like a puppy? People are gonna start thinking we’re friends or something.”

You scowl, “Who said I was following you?” you were, though. “We’re just walking in the same direction, stupid.”

“Did you just call me stupid?” He turns to face you fully – a little too close to you, honestly. There’s a twitch in his eye that reveals his annoyance.

“It’s not like I’m saying something wrong. I think you’re stupid and I’m telling you.” The fact that you have to look up at him doesn’t deter you, returning the glare he refuses to let waver. “I can call you something much worse if you’re into that.”

“Brat.” Yoongi’s lips curl into a sneer, and he’s about to open his mouth again when a voice stops him.

“My, my.” You both turn your heads to the side, to find a smiling elderly woman. Her gaze flickers between the both of you with a sort of knowing glint, “You two are quite the pair.”

You sigh harshly through your nose, already agitated and not needing another person assuming that something’s going on between you and Yoongi.

She’s wearing a dark flowing robe of sorts, her hands adorned with silver rings that catch on the lights and beaded bracelets that clink softly together. You eye her silver dream catcher necklace with a slight frown.

Yoongi takes a step away from you, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Can we help you?” His voice is softer, a far cry from the tone he uses with you.

The woman laughs, and there’s something about the sound that makes you want to hide behind Yoongi’s back. There’s something not quite right here, about her, but you’re not sure why sirens are going off in your head.

“Help me? No.�� She smiles, “But I can help you.”

You and Yoongi share a look, and you’re certain you’ve somehow wandered to some part of the fair where all the weird people hang out. Lifting a hand, you discreetly tug on the back of Yoongi’s sweater, motioning your head to the direction you came from when he glances at you. You’re hoping he catches your drift, even if it’s with him, you’d like to leave the presence of this strange woman.

“No thanks.” Yoongi says curtly, and surprisingly, gently ushers you away with a hand against your back.

“You two have a past.” The woman calls, and for some reason, you and Yoongi both stop. “I can show it to you.”

She’s probably part of the attractions - here to make money just like everyone else. It’s not uncommon to find folk like her in places like this, where susceptible people are lured into paying a pretty penny for baseless words. It calls to you though, for some reason, you’re not sure, but you turn to look at her first.

She smiles at you, and you turn back.

“Ignore her.” Yoongi says, trying to urge you forward, even though he himself has yet to move. “C’mon.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the woman is persistent, it seems, as she speaks again. “I’d be doing you both a favor.”

Yoongi sighs, the warmth of his hand leaving your back as he turns. You turn too, and you’re locked in a silent stare-off with the woman.

“I don’t think she’ll leave us alone.” Yoongi mumbles quietly to you, and against your better judgment, you follow him as he walks back. “People do this all the time, so don’t pay mind to whatever she has to say.”

You nod quietly, reaching the smiling woman. She leads you both a little further, to the edge of the fair where most people seem to stray away from. There’s a large tent instead of a booth like you expected, taking up a large space. The flap is down, swaying slightly in the soft breeze that blows by – she’s really playing into her act; you’re – dare you say – impressed.

She raises the flap and allows you and Yoongi to walk in first. The first thing you notice is the scent of incense burning, a sweet smell that gives you a slight headache the more you inhale it. There’s a raised wooden platform covered by a soft rug, and both you and Yoongi step out of your shoes before stepping on it.

It’s awfully quiet, the sounds of the fair fading away outside. There’s not much to the place really, but unease curls in your stomach nonetheless. In some places around the tent, there’s candle holders on tall staffs, a fire hazard you don’t have time to mull over. There’s a table in the center, short legged and low to the floor, a few sitting cushions scattered around it. A stack of what you assume is tarot cards on the table, a silver kettle next to it, and a pile of books in a corner.

“Sit opposite each other, please.” The woman kindly requests, moving around to a corner where a tray with three small cups sat. Then, she takes a seat on one of the cushions on the floor after setting the cups down. She looks up at you both expectedly, and Yoongi hesitates for a moment before leaving your side.

You follow suit, settling cross-legged on the cushion facing Yoongi who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The woman pours steaming liquid into the cups from the idle kettle, filling the cups small cups only halfway before sliding one to each of you.

You ignore the cup of whatever near your hand, knowing better than to drink something a random stranger gives you.

Silently, the woman takes up the deck of cards, shuffling them in her hands. She shuffles until six cards fall out of her motion, and then another. She stares at them and chuckles, hovering a hand over the cards. She suddenly looks at you and you startle a bit, looking away.

She slides three cards in front of you, and three to Yoongi, and places the seventh in the center between you both. You stare at the cards, not sure what to make of what you’re looking at.

The woman leans over, bony, wrinkled finger tapping at the cards one by one as she tells you their names, “The Tower, upright. The moon, reversed. Four of wands, upright.”

She does the same for Yoongi, “The Chariot, reversed. The Sun, reversed. Two of cups, upright.”

She moves her finger to the card in the middle, “The Lovers, upright.” She hums cryptically, nodding more to herself, “Lots of misfortune.”

Why are you here again? This was Yoongi’s idea.

You look up from your set of cards to find Yoongi already staring at you. You don’t like the feeling you’re getting, something pulling at the edge of your mind that you leave this weird lady, find your friends and be on your way. You’re not sure you want to hear what the woman has to say, but you’re curious about the cards and what they mean, as you look back down to the shimmering gold against black.

You’re not too into tarot cards, never once had a need to know about them, even with your curious self. There’s a sense of foreboding curling in your stomach, dread that makes your hands sweat where they’re curled atop your knees.

“These aren’t for your current lives, but one of your past ones.” The woman says, and you try your very best to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve had quite a few before you ended up here, together again.”

Yoongi doesn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes and he does so without a care, nodding his head; clearly unconvinced.

“Sure.” He scoffs, looking at you, a small twitch sends his brows upward for a tick; she’s clearly trying to scam you both.

The woman purses her lips, her dark eyes narrowing a fraction, staring at Yoongi who doesn’t bother to look back. She looks very much the type to throw a slipper. That’d be funny, you think, would serve him right.

Just to annoy him further, you perk up, turning slightly to face the woman. “What do they mean?”

There’s a glint in her eyes when she smiles, it honestly makes you regret asking. She raises a hand, motioning at your cup, “Drink the tea.”

Yoongi lets out a deep chuckle, “You expect us to just drink this? There could be anything in there.”

“It's just some herbs, nothing harmful.” She lifts her own cup, “I’ll drink mine first.”

You’d both seen her pour it, and it eases you a bit that she drinks first. At least you know it’s not poisoned or drugged, unless she’s actually crazy enough.

She sets her cup down once she’s done, and motions a hand to yours. You look from her, to the cup, and then to Yoongi.

I’ll kill you if we die here.

You hope that in Yoongi’s arsenal of skills that he could read minds. So he could hear your threat and be very afraid, because you’re serious.

You lift your cup, the warmth of it a blessing to your cold fingers. The steam smells of something herbal, and you hope to god that it’s only that. Yoongi does the same, and on a mental count of three, you drink. There wasn’t much in the small cup, a quick second to swallow and it was gone, burning your tongue just slightly and blooming warmth in your chest.

Nothing happens for a moment, where you and Yoongi stare at each other as though waiting for mushrooms to sprout at the top of your heads. You lift the shoulder the woman can’t see from her side of the table in a shrug.

It’s really just herbal tea.

Which would’ve been a nice thought, if you hadn’t suddenly felt like the world slowed down around you. Your body feels as though it’s sinking, weighed down by some unseen force. Uncrossing your legs, you shift, trying to stand, but don’t get much further than pressing your palms against the ground.

“Y/n?”

Yoongi’s calling you, you think. His voice sounds so far away, though, like there’s a wall between you both. He’s not looking much better than you, there’s a glassy look to his eyes as he struggles to blink. As you fall back against the soft rug, Yoongi reaches forward to try and grasp at you, sending the cups and cards scattering, fingers just brushing your own.

You don’t feel yourself hitting the floor, nor did you hear the sound of the cups clattering with Yoongi’s movement. You do hear a strange song being crooned out by the woman, who you watch with rapidly darkening vision as she moves around the tent lighting candles. Unconcerned by you and Yoongi trying to cling to consciousness.

You don’t understand the words she’s singing, and you’re so tired, you barely have it in you to care.

You’ll just close your eyes, just for a minute.

There’s birds chirping, whistling their sweet songs that travel in the warm summer breeze. Strange. It’s too late in the evening for birds, and the sun had set an hour ago, but it’s nice and warm on your cheek. Not to mention, summer is a good couple of months away.

Your eyes snap open, scrambling to get up, you find yourself in a field of swaying grass. There’s a rushing sound of a river a few feet away, that you could barely see below a dip in the earth, flowing freely and endlessly through...wherever you are.

Glancing around, you find a dense forest behind you a good ways away, animals big and small skittering through the trees. A pathway that looks well trodden weaves and twists from it, veering off from where you sat and down the incline. There’s flowers, swaying in the breeze and butterflies fluttering to and fro. The sky is a beautiful blue, spotted with white puffs of cloud that drift leisurely.

Are you dead? Is this what heaven looks like?

“Y/n!”

Your head snaps to your left at the call of your name. Yoongi’s running over to you, blades of grass sticking out of his dark hair and clinging to his clothes.

No, this is hell.

He doesn’t offer you a hand to get up as you do. Chivalry is in fact dead and buried.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks, eyes wide as he looks around – just as confused as you are. This is the most expressive you’ve seen this man ever. His brows draw together, furrowing as he turns to look at you as though you had all the answers.

“Yeah, sure. Ask me, who’s in the same damn situation. Do I look like I know what’s going on?” You grumble, feeling stress pulling at your muscles. “I personally think we’re dead. Though, I’m not sure we’re in heaven.” You side eye him.

Yoongi looks like he has something to say about that remark, because he always has to open his stupid mouth to reply.

A scowl, familiar and not at all unwarranted curls at his lips. He opens his mouth but stops short, leaning slightly to your right, looking somewhere behind you.

“There’s a kid over there.” He points a finger, and you turn to follow it. Sure enough, there’s a boy standing at the forest edge.

The clothes he wears look too big for his frame, long sleeves hanging off his arms, the legs of his pants rolled up to his knees. He bounces on the balls of his feet, stops, and paces a little, looking back into the forest. It seems like he’s waiting for someone.

There’s something about the child that strikes you with familiarity. You don’t know the boy, never seen him in your life, but you feel as though you have. It’s the same feeling you get when you’ve met someone for the first time, but it feels as though you’ve known them all your life.

“Yoongi...” You say his name softly, not actually calling out to him, but the man behind you hums in question. You glance his way for just a second, “No. Not...not you. Him. He’s – that’s you.”

The child, of course, looks nothing like the man that hovers behind you. You just know, though.

There’s a scoff, soft, but you hear it anyway. “And you were calling me stupid. Did you hit your head or something?”

Sighing you turn to face him, “She said that she’d show us. I don’t think we’re dead.”

“Or.” Yoongi puts a finger up, “We got drugged and having a very lucid shared dream right now.”

You both stare at each other, you take a breath, “That’s fucking stupid. You’re stupid. We can’t share dreams, Yoongi.”

You spin on your heel, marching off in the direction of the child at the forest edge. You can hear Yoongi following behind you, grumbling under his breath.

The boy doesn’t seem to notice your approach, even though he’s staring in your direction. He’s young, looking to be about ten years old, and a little anxious as he picks up a long stick and swings it at the grass.

“Okay, let’s say you’re correct – hypothetically – what exactly are we supposed to do?” Yoongi finally seems to notice the grass in his hair, raising a hand to pull them out of the long strands.

You shrug, “Just watch, I guess? He can’t even see us.” You wave a hand in front of the child who doesn’t react. You feel like you’re standing in a simulation, not at all dream-like, as everything feels very real. You can feel the grass, the breeze, and the warm sun that dips behind a passing cloud.

The boy wanders off, jogging down the path towards the river. You watch him do so, as he stumbles a bit over something before catching himself and continuing onward. Before he could run down the little incline, someone’s darting out of the forest behind him and tackles him to the grass.

A girl, wearing a raggedy brown cotton dress and no shoes. “Caught you!”

Then, you’re suddenly standing in water. The river rushes around your legs, soaking into your jeans. The sudden shift in scenery sends you stumbling forward, Yoongi offers you a hand this time. Helping you out of the river and over large, slippery rocks.

The boy and the girl are playing a little ways away, near the bank, splashing water at each other. They play for a moment, before going up to where the grass field meets the damp earth, sitting quietly.

They don’t say much, looking like they had too much on their young minds.

“We should try to get back before sundown...” the girl mumbles, letting her head rest against the boy’s shoulder with a sigh, “We got in trouble last time.”

“We got lost, it wasn't our fault.” The boy grumbles, picking up a shiny stone and holds it up to the sun. “Here, this one’s pretty.” He hands it to the girl, smiling at her.

“Someday, when I get us out of here... I’ll get you prettier ones.” He wiggles his pinky at her, they link their pinky fingers and press their thumbs together, “I promise.”

The view suddenly changes again and you’re standing in the middle of a bustling village market. There’s people yelling prices, a flock of scrambling chickens, a group of children playing with some type of ball and you find the boy running past you and Yoongi. He looks a little older, and his clothes fit him better now, silk instead of cotton. The shift is disorientating, leaving you a little dizzy.

“Let’s follow him.” Yoongi grabs your hand, ignoring the sounds of protest you make as he tugs you behind him.

You follow the boy through the market, weaving and ducking through people and market stalls to keep up. He’s quite the runner, and you lose him more than a couple times in the chase.

He leads you both out of the market and into the small village on the outskirts where he finally slows down. His steps stay quick paced, as he rounds a corner and walks over to a small wooden house surrounded by a wooden fence.

There’s a woman in the yard shaking out white cloth and throwing them on roped lines strung between the trees within the fence. She waves at the boy, calls out a name you can’t hear even though you’re certain she shouted it.

The door swings open and out hops the girl, she too, a little older than when you first saw her. She runs over to the fence before the woman – who you assume is her mother – stops her.

“Shoes.” She points back at the house, and even though the girl grumbles, she quickly runs back inside. She’s back out a moment later wearing dark slip-on cotton shoes that honestly don’t look like they offer much protection. “Be back before sundown!”

The kids yell out an affirmative, as they both take off running again.

“Why the hell are they running so much?” Yoongi groans, and only then you realize he’s still holding your hand.

You snatch your hand away from his grip, “Afraid you can’t keep up, gramps?”

“Fuck off.”

You both follow as they run through the forest, their laughter echoing between the trees. You recognise the field on the other side, back where you started, near the river.

“Wait, wait,” The boy stops the girl with a hand, “I have something for you.” He digs around his pockets, pulling out a necklace. There’s a pretty opal stone that shimmers against the light hanging on twine. He puts it around her neck, smiling at her.

“It's beautiful.” She’s looking at the necklace, at the opal that hangs in the center. He’s looking at her when he agrees.

It’s raining, cold harsh rain coming out of the sky like bullets. The children are no longer children, taking shelter under the large tree that keeps them a little drier than they would be otherwise.

You and Yoongi rush to stand under it, too. Not that standing there helps much, rain water drips steadily through the spaces in the leaves. The two are talking, unbothered by the fact that they’re both shivering and completely soaked.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks, just as a shudder runs through you.

It’s strange, but all of this is anyway, that you can feel everything that goes on around you. Yoongi’s cold too, lengthy hair plastered to his skin. He wraps his arms around himself, teeth chattering as he waits for you to answer.

“Yeah...cold though.” You chuckle a bit, and you’re surprised when he pulls you to his side with an arm around your shoulders. You guess you can suck it up to share warmth.

“Marry me.” The boy suddenly says, startling you, Yoongi and the girl, who blinks at him without saying anything.

“Marry – but...your father wouldn’t-“

“I could care less what he thinks.” He says, turning his head to look out at the pelting rain, “What he thinks doesn’t matter.” He takes the girl’s hands in his own, thumbs softly running over her knuckles. “I can take you far away from here, we could go anywhere. Just like I promised.”

You feel like you’re intruding on something private. Though, you’re aware of what this is, you and Yoongi, who knows how many lifetimes ago. The Lover’s card comes to mind, and you step away from Yoongi’s hold.

He doesn’t stop you, looking a bit uncomfortable, though, that could’ve been because he was cold. Definitely not because he’s watching his past self propose to your past self.

“Okay.” The girl is smiling, a happy glow to her cheeks despite the way she shivers. Her fiancé laughs between peppering her face with kisses.

You and Yoongi stare at the rain.

It’s warm, the night sky dotted with a million stars that twinkle. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that many stars in the sky before, and you stare up at them in wonder.

You and Yoongi walk side by side behind the boy and the girl, much more grown up now. You’ve gotten used to the shift, sighing, you gaze around at the new scenery.

They’re on an evening stroll, in a village very different from where they grew. He’s wearing silk and she is too, they’re happy, arms linked together as they have a conversation neither you nor Yoongi can hear.

“How long do you think we’d be here for?” Yoongi questions softly as he keeps your pace. Walking close enough that your arm brushes against his, your clothes are miraculously dried, no longer clinging to you and you’re no longer cold.

“I don’t know,” You sigh, looking up at him, “We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.”

Yoongi hums, and there’s something in his eyes that’s different as he watches you. You don’t let the thought linger, grateful when he turns away, you motion at the couple ahead of you with a tilt of your chin. “They seem happy.”

“They do.” Yoongi agrees softly, as the sound of their soft giggling reaches your ears. “The cards though...she said there was misfortune.”

The wind is harsh, kicking up loose dirt outside and rattling the windows. The last rays of sunshine are being hidden by rolling gray clouds, leaving the world outside the windows bleak. The air is tense, your and Yoongi’s past selves seem to be in some kind of stare-off from opposite sides of the room.

“You just had to say it, huh?”

The inside of their home is small and comfortable. There’s an entry way that’s parted by the walls of the kitchen to the right, and the living room where they stand to the left. There’s a rocking chair under the lone window, a basket of different coloured threads, a shirt that lays unfinished tucked into a corner.

Lit candles flicker and dance in a draft, sending shadows scattering across every surface, making the room a little darker in intervals and less of a comfort. They’re quiet, and you’re not sure what they were arguing about, but it looks to be something big.

The man is the first to move, stomping off through the entryway to the door. He grabs a cloak off a hook in the wall and tugs the door open against the harsh winds, and the woman follows. She stands in the entryway, staring at his back with angry, tear filled eyes.

“If you walk out of this house. I will never forgive you.”

The man glances at his wife, and steps out without another word, slamming the door closed.

Yoongi leans against the wall, arms crossed as he watches on. You have no choice but to stay near him, with nothing more to do than watch as well.

The woman paces for a moment, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes with a drawn out, frustrated sigh. “He never listens.”

The sun sets and her husband doesn’t return. She’s sitting in the kitchen, where she cleans a wooden vase slowly. She’s long calmed down, stopping to stare out the window where the night draws on. She looks worried, a furrow in her brow as she sets the cloth and vase down.

The door swings open, slamming against the wall behind it. Leaves rustle into the house, and a man, who isn’t her husband, stands in the doorway.

She gets up from her seat at the table, stepping quickly out into the open space of the entryway. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come looking for you..”

There’s dread curling in your stomach when she pauses, realizing that the man isn’t who she thinks. He walks forward with heavy steps, and she stumbles back and away from his approach.

The man’s face is a blur to you, but he backs her into a corner, a sharp blade against her throat. It feels as though the knife is pressing into your own skin.

Yoongi takes your hand before you can reach for him. The man asks her where their valuables are, and she points to a corner in the living room, telling him it’s under the floorboard.

While he’s busy taking them out and stuffing everything into a bag, she’s eyeing the entryway. Chest rising and falling quickly as she looks between the crouched man and her only escape.

She darts off, tripping over her skirts, but doesn’t make it far. There’s another man at the door, and she runs into him and the knife he holds.

You gasp as she does, and Yoongi catches you as your weight suddenly drops heavily against him. Your fingers dig into the material of your sweater, at the softness of your stomach where a sharp phantom pain blooms.

“What?” Yoongi gently leans you to stand upright, firm grip steadying you. He bends his knees a little, ducking his head to meet your gaze with his worried one. “What’s wrong?”

There's a gasping cry behind him, one that the other men in the room ignore. Yoongi stands between you and the sight of her, blocking your view of the woman. You hear a crash, something breaking and a dull thud.

Something like sorrow settles in your chest violently, heavy and suffocating. It tightens around your lungs and throat, sends numbness rippling into the ends of your fingers. You lean forward to press your forehead against Yoongi’s collarbone. His fingers dance behind your neck and he holds you there.

You’re not sure what he’s saying to you, but the low timber of his voice brings you a comfort you never expected to receive from him. His other hand splays against your lower back and you could feel the warmth of it.

The men spend a few more minutes looking around for anything they can take, and they leave. Crossing over the woman as though she isn’t there, as though blood isn’t soaking through the fine silk she wears and pooling beneath her.

Lightning flashes, and thunder claps behind it. You’re standing outside – the rain is falling again. You and Yoongi stand and watch as the woman’s husband returns. He finds the door of his home swinging on its hinges, rattled by the harsh winds of the storm.

The rose he holds flutters to the ground, swallowed up by the mud and rain. He runs into the house and finds his wife.

The storm didn’t drown out his cries.

The edges of the world seem to fray, like a burning photo tossed into a flame. Yoongi is still holding onto you, his palm warm against your cold cheek. Images flicker by faster than you can see them, you only catch one: the man, on the cusp of his now meaningless existence.

Amongst the chaos, Yoongi’s voice is clear.

“Y/n – Hey. Listen to me,” Yoongi calls, and you gaze at him unseeingly, dazed, as the twinges of pain finally fade. “She’s not you, okay? Focus on me. She’s not you.”

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, “Yoongi...”

And suddenly you’re sinking. You’re inhaling water and there’s nothing for you to grasp onto. It’s night, but you recognize the river bank, back where you started. Though, you’re in the river, the storm brought the water crashing downstream. You can’t hear anything besides the roaring water, you can’t see Yoongi anywhere.

You see a man walking into the water, his clothes sullied with mud, and he simply lets the river take him.

Gasping for air, you sit up, forehead knocking right into Yoongi’s. He’s coughing as though he’s drowned, falling back on his ass into damp grass.

“Fuck.” He clutches at his forehead with a hiss, glaring at you with red-rimmed eyes. “Your head made of rock or something? Jesus.”

You look around frantically, the pain of knocking your head against Yoongi's the last thing on your mind. It’s night, the sun had only set an hour ago. There’s the tinkling sounds of the fair of the muddled voices of people far away. The tent, and the strange woman are gone, you’re both sitting on an empty plot of grass where the tent should have been.

You grasp the front of Yoongi’s sweater in your fist, shaking him hard. “Yoongi! We’re back!”

He stops glaring at you long enough to take in the surroundings. Realizing too, that you’re both sitting exactly where you were before this mess started, just now it’s an empty space.

It’s like the woman was never here.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks you first, gaze soft, checking you over, even though you’re both fine, looking no different from how you did when you entered the tent. His palm is against your cheek again, brows furrowed with worry. You allow it though, as the feeling grounds you.

“I think so...” You whisper, nodding, “You?”

“I feel like I just died but yeah. I’m okay.”

Quietly, you both sit there, not saying much else after. You’re trying to wrap your head around everything, and you’re sure Yoongi’s doing the same. Neither of you question the missing tent, and the strange woman that’s also gone.

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, burning in your nose. There’s a lump in your throat when you swallow.

“Some life, huh?” The chuckle you let out is mirthless, and you draw your legs close to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. The tragedy of the two children you followed for what seemed like hours, has burned itself into your mind and refuses to leave.

You’re not certain if any of that was even real, but the burning of your throat and the memory of the pain you’d felt convinces you otherwise.

Yoongi’s fingers brushes you, gently, comforting. “Some life.”

“Guys! I found them!”

You both look up to find Jungkook, and the rest of your friends jogging over.

Yoongi helps you stand, dusting the damp grass that clings to your clothes off you.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” Seokjin is shouting, and you’re not even sure he actually wants to know. “We’ve been looking for you guys for two hours!”

Tiredness sinks into your limbs, and you’d rather fall face first into your bed than listening to Seokjin’s scolding.

“I wanna go home.” You say, still not moving from your spot next to Yoongi.

“You guys okay?” Jimin’s eyes dart from you to Yoongi, and you can only guess what you both look like right now. Probably like you’ve seen your past lives and some circle of hell; you’ll never recover.

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods, and without another word, grabs your hand and pulls you forward through your shared group of friends. You couldn’t be bothered with the weird looks they all give you at that.

Yoongi? Holding your hand? Must be Christmas or something.

You let him pull you away, ignoring the calls of your names behind you. Or Namjoon complaining about his buddy system, or Seokjin going off like a worried parent.

Only when you’re settled in the car, you relax. Sitting next to Yoongi, who isn’t actively trying to be as far away from you as he could be. Instead he’s pressed to your side - you don’t mind - you’re tired and he’s warm. You rest your head against his shoulder.

Seokjin and Namjoon were walking the others back to Jimin’s car, most likely gossiping about you both.

You stuff your cold hands into the pocket pouch of your sweater, looking down at it in some confusion as you find something in there. Cold, small and sleek against your fingertips.

You pull the rectangular thing out, and promptly drop it. It flutters into Yoongi’s lap, the gold against black markings of the Lover’s card stares back up at you both.

Yoongi’s fingers fumble for it before you can, tucking the card away into the pocket of his own sweater. “Don’t think about it.”

“Kind of hard not to.” You shift away from him, leaning your side against the door. “I don’t know what she wants us to do with...all that...”

“Maybe she was just trying to tell us to stop being dicks to each other.” His voice is soft, a like chuckle following it and he turns his head to look at you. He sticks his left hand out, “We should start over.”

You roll your eyes – not in the way you would before, but playfully. There’s something entirely different about the way you regard each other, sitting near one another without a complaint or a harsh remark.

Yoongi wiggles his long fingers at you, “C’mon, I’m serious. We can’t have gone through that and still hate each other...” He tilts his head to catch your gaze, smiling, gums and all. “My hand’s getting tired here.”

Chuckling you give in, pressing your palm against his own in a shake. He chuckles with you, the sound more a puff of air and a shake of his shoulders. After a moment he quiets, still holding your hand, still staring at you. A thumb draws circles at the back of your hand.

“You felt it didn’t you?” He asks softly, as though something would break if he spoke any louder, “Does it still hurt?”

“Nah, I’m good.” You splay your hand against your stomach anyway, an echo of the pain that just doesn’t want to leave skitter beneath your fingers. You eye the strip of skin you can see above the neck of his turtleneck sweater, a little flushed like he’s bruised it. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

You hear Seokjin’s squeaky laugh before you see him, waving with his whole body outside his car door. Namjoon’s already getting in, stuffing a large koala plush between his knees to buckle his seat belt.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t killed each other in here.” Namjoon says, turning a bit in his seat to flicker his gaze between you both. Dimples sink into his cheeks with his smile, but says nothing as Seokjin comes in.

The car rumbles to life, heat coming through the vents. Seokjin sticks a hand out the window to wave at Jimin’s turning car, he eyes you both through the rear-view. “So either of you gonna tell me where you disappeared to for two hours?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, waving a hand, “We had a talk.”

“Uh-huh.” Seokjin nods, unconvinced.

You let your head rest against Yoongi’s shoulder, lulled by the drive and the soft music coming from the radio. The comfort of Yoongi still holding your hand, and the weight of his head leaning against yours.

You’d probably have a lot to talk about, as of right now, you have no idea what to do with the information you’re still trying to process. So you lock it away for a moment when you’re not too tired, when you could think about it with a clear head. When sleep doesn’t tug your eyelids closed, and Yoongi isn’t pressed against you.

Tagging: @blog-name-idk @luaspersona @eoieopda @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @mssukeyna @madbutgloriouspond @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @astormunchar @euphoricfilter @ketchupaeternum @matchy6812 @eren-fall

#Hatin' On You #persphonesorchid #bts #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi enemies to lovers #suga #suga x reader #suga x you #bts fic recs #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #agustd #min suga

[pascaloverx]

OUR SECRET — MYG

chapter one

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: This fanfic will contain inappropriate language and intimate moments between some characters. Be warned. I will let you know if anything becomes inappropriate. Please enjoy this Yoongi fanfic.

AO3LINK NEXT

"You're in denial, you could just say you didn't want me anymore. But you prefer to pretend that..." You throw his favorite book out the window like it means nothing. 'Cause now it doesn't mean.

"You can't blame me, our romance should have ended a long time ago. But you and I..." Yoongi seems almost too serious saying this. Do you mean nothing to him?

"You and me what?" You respond from the balcony of your apartment. Luckily your neighbors aren't too curious to know why you're yelling at your ex-lover.

"You know I can't shout that here, some fans might be here." Poor little thing, at that moment you wonder where the brave man is who asked you to embark on this relationship even though you knew your worlds would never be the same.

"I thought the whole point of paying a lot of money to live in an apartment far from the big city and known for its discretion would be being able to yell at you at two in the morning." You don't care if he thinks he's going to leave you without anything more or less, and that you're going to come out of this situation smiling, he should have found someone else to have sex with.

"If you would let me come up, we could talk like adults." He speaks subtly with an impressive poker face. If he stops being a musician, perhaps he could try a career as an actor or a gambler.

"Like adults? I'll be waiting for the other adult to arrive." You say throwing some clothes that are in your apartment that belong to him.

"Like you're being mature about all this. Damn!" One of his belongings ends up breaking near his feet. In fright he lets out several swear words, you luckily end up laughing.

"You break up with me over the phone and I have to be mature. I gave up part of my freedom to be yours. And look what I get in return." Anger took over you initially but now all you can do is try to keep from crying.

"Y/N. Let me in, so we can talk. I can see you almost crying from here." You smile lightly as you feel tears fall down your cheek. What a humiliation.

"If you cared about me you would have had the decency to say that you wanted to finish it the last time you were here." His cowardice can only be explained by his fear of having to do this in person.

"I couldn't. I didn't..." That was exactly what was left of the two of you. An awkward silence and resentment.

"Do you know how frustrating it is not being able to curse your name or tell someone you broke my heart?" You say that sobbing. What a tragedy it is that has made you sentimental now.

"Just because we don't work anymore doesn't mean I don't love you." You look at him and for a moment you feel more sorry for him than for yourself.

"If this is how you love someone. I'm sorry to inform you that you don't know love." Ironically it makes you smile. Maybe this is all his fault, not yours.

"Love..." It's very painful to see the man you've been involved with for the last year, call you that and not be able to respond.

"I'll send the rest of your things to the company. Don't worry, I won't expose you any more than I already have. Now get out of here, you and your fake love." Using one of his songs as the grand finale was a majestic act. Crying yourself to sleep, unfortunately, is not so majestic.

Two Months Later...

"You were the only person I thought would understand my situation. Try not to judge me but I need an opinion." You say looking Namjoon in the eyes. You got really close to him during your secret relationship with Yoongi.

"Is it too big a secret?" He asks entering his new home. A home where you swore you would start over.

"You tell me..." You say, opening your coat and revealing your stomach.

"Did you call me here because you gained weight after the breakup or do you have worms?" Namjoon asks and you smile nervously. Until you shake your head denying.

"Let's say the weight gain is due to something prior to the breakup..." You try not to say the word. Maybe the situation will go away if you don't name it.

"You are pregnant?" He named his current situation. Now it means it's really happening.

"Surprise!" You say trying to liven up the situation but you know you're fucked. Namjoon seems really surprised. As soon as he assimilates the information, he hugs you. You knew you could lean on the friendship you two have.

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #reader insert #spotify #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #min yoongi x you #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #ex to enemies to lovers #namjoon #seokjin #taehyung #jungkook #jhope #jimin

[haeggi]

the gift and the gifted | myg ✓

➔ pairing: top student!yoongi × top student!reader

➔ genres/warnings: highschool!au, christmas!au, holiday!au, romcom!au, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, suggestive themes (but there's no smut, woops), also yoongi wears glasses bc my babie is so cute and hot when he wears one, lots of cussing prolly, some jokes may be offensive, reader and yoongi basically wants to strangle each other's necks bc yes.

➔ word count: 12.9k

➔ synopsis: you were always at the top; girls envied you and they aspired to be like you, and you got guys swooning at your feet. but there was always a particular individual who followed your footsteps. min yoongi. everywhere you were, he always shadowed you. he always came in second to you, and just like you, he also had become the primary cause of ladies getting diagnosed with erotomanias (metaphorically, of course). but everything crashes downhill when your roles are suddenly switched; he ends up at the top, and you below him. how messed up could that be?

or alternatively, christmas was just around the corner, and all it takes are the midterms (which will be a piece of cake to you) before the semester ends. however, the christmas news you receive that year was one of the worst gifts yet. let's say, it went catastrophic because the gift came in the form of min yoongi, your biggest rival.

notes: this is my first ever tumblr ff ajshssk. it's raw and unedited, so expect a lot of grammar mistakes.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

According to statistics of an unknown source, a lot of experts believe that the global population is composed of between 2% to 6% of gifted children. Such child prodigies are blessed with naturally high inborn intelligence. They perform significantly at complex levels compared to peers.

You belonged in the 2 to 6% of that category. At the fresh age of two, you were able to read novels that are typically for adolescents. You also already knew how to write children stories, your imaginations constantly spreading as if you were using a hex in your mind, expanding your thoughts into a whole new wide level.

Yes, that was indeed a Marvel reference.

Oh, you started watching the series by the time you were three, by the way. Whenever your parents kissed you goodbye to report to their jobs, you would bake pancakes while standing on a stool because you were still too tiny to reach the top of the kitchen counter. Afterwards, you would waddle into the living room, turn on the TV, and bask into a three-hour Marvel movie.

You would also laugh at the adult jokes that were made that even most adolescents wouldn't get, yet there you were, being a couch potato, sipping on maple syrups while giggling at the scenes.

And by the time you were four, you knew all your basic math. You could also spell complicated words already such as pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (man, I literally had to copy-paste that from Google, smh). You also have memorized all the countries of Asia and Europe, and the parts of the human's and plants' cells—not just the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell basic and overused shit.

But most importantly, you definitely had attitude problems. You had a blunt tongue and a sharp wit.

"I don't want to go to school," your five-year-old-self whined burying your small head further into the pillow. "I don't need to," you add, muffled.

"Honey," your mother sighed, inviting herself in your bedroom. She knew how much you despised it whenever someone crossed your personal space, yet you were too whine-y to even fight your mother. "I know that, but you still need to. The world is too big for everything to fit in your brain—"

"Are you calling me small?" you grimaced, exhuming your head from the pillow and whipping it at your mom's direction. "Mom, you know how much I'm sensitive when it comes to my height!"

"Yes, dear, I apologize—"

"I don't wanna hear it, mom! My decision is final, I don't wanna go to kindergarten!" you yelled, albeit your voice was muffled because you stuffed your face into your pillow again.

"Kindergarten?" your mother repeated. "Y/N, I never said anything about enrolling you to kindergarten. I was planning to apply for your acceleration for elementary—"

"Mmmooommmm!" you groaned, almost sounding like a wolf, but to your beloved mother, you just sounded like a pup. "Leave me alone, please! I know my geometry, I can solve the area of a rectangle, a square, a decagon. Even a gazillion-gon or whatever! And I know how to use similes, metaphors, hyperboles, and ironies!"

"Clearly," your mother muttered under her breath. "With how sharp your tongue is, I'm not even surprised."

The woman flinched when a soft piece of fluff landed before her feet. It was one of your stuff toys, Mr. Bear-able.

She resisted the urge to massage her temples, catching what her daughter was implying. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone. But if you ever change your mind, tell me."

"I don't do do overs, mom," you retorted, suddenly having the appetite to get out of bed. You waddle towards your desk, plopping on the seat with your back turned to your mother. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a lot to do."

"Of course," your mother responded. "Come down for dinner at seven. Don't. Be. Late," she warned.

"Yes, mother," you stressed the last word.

Hearing the door shut close, you released a sigh of relief, finally grateful for the time of peace.

But, unfortunately, for gifted children, peace was a state they rarely achieved.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Ten years later, you are now enduring the third year of high school. And ten years ago, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't step foot into a school. Ever. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the hallway, flooded with lots of people your age. Jocks and cheerleaders mostly flocked the lockers, some of which are busy slamming each other against each one, their faces all over each other.

It was a disgusting sight to you, but you are used to it now. You know not to pry into their business and scream at them to stop the eff out. One, because you were simply lazy—or rather, conserving energy is the right term. Second, they weren't worth your precious time.

Yes, it was your third year in high school, but also it was only your third time attending school because for the last seven years, you had been cooped up within the four walls of your bedroom. You never stepped foot out the door, except when you ate. You were either sleeping, writing, or just aimlessly scrolling on Twitter and Tiktok.

It had gotten to the point where your mother barged into the room with your father following her like a lost puppy, because he didn't want to deal with you because he was either 1) really, really afraid of you or 2) he just didn't really want to deal with an untamed animal that was in the form of you. Yet, he followed your mother to your room because 1) he was definitely still more afraid of his wife more than of his daughter and 2) he probably wants to witness your demise.

And you did get your demise. You got an earful from your mother. She had confiscated your phone, pulled you out of your room and locked the door. She was getting sick of you acting around as if you were the boss. As if you were the adult.

Yeah, you definitely had (still have, by the way) attitude problems.

And the only condition that your mother had so that you could gain access back to your room and phone is if you enrolled at school, got a degree, and a decent job.

So here you were, in the very hellhole you didn't want to end up in.

On the bright side, you are still a gifted child, and hell did you demolished everyone in your path. Academically, of course. Consistently, you were the overall top one of your batch from first year to second year. You were always the top scorer in examinations. You were also literally destroying your teachers' careers, which basically made almost everyone love you. Almost.

You got guys begging for your attention, wanting to take you out on dates. You also got girls envying you, wanting to be you. And also, of course, you had haters.

And most significantly, you had competition.

He was always there, wherever you were. You were on the list of top scorers, and underneath your name, just right next to it, was his name printed. You were the overall top one, and below you, just beside you, was his name written.

You were the first, and he always came in second.

Your eyes were literally burning in crimson when you saw him entering your line of sight. His jet black hair was neatly styled as usual, his pale skin was glowing underneath the fluorescent lights, his eyes were adorned with round-rimmed glasses, accentuating his clever ambience further.

It made your blood boil; the way he was just calmly walking through the crowd of students. He didn't even make an effort passing through the bodies because people made way for him. Of course, they would. He is the fucking student council president, for hell's sake!

Your arms are crossed, still staring him down as he greeted and bowed to those who smiled at him. Oh, how badly you wanted to rip his mouth off of his face and smack it to the first girl you see because she would definitely pay you at least ten years worth of your life, then you can finally ditch school, maybe disappear off the surface of the map and enjoy a life of solitude in probably an abandoned island, sipping on mojito, or maybe the mountains to enjoy the fresh air of nature because the air down there smelled like pieces of shit—

"Y/N," he singsongs, his gravelly voice reaching your ears.

You didn't notice that you had been standing at the middle of the hallway for quite a long time now because he, along with a few of the other student council members trailing behind him, was now in front of you. You notice everyone's eyes are on you two. Everyone knew of the rivalry you two have. And you also knew that they are totally anticipating a war to happen.

"Yoongi," you say, your tone honeyed with a hint of passive-aggressiveness.

"How was your weekend?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Oh, he is definitely enjoying the attention. Just so you wait, I will rip your fakeass smile—

"It was okay!" you chirp, faking a laugh. "I hope yours was too."

Yoongi hums, fixing his glasses that had slightly slid down, exposing his feline eyes for a fleeting moment. "Fortunately, it went more than okay to me," he says with a pompous smile.

Your verbose response is a forced smile, hoping that he will take the hint that he will leave you alone now, because you knew what he was referencing to. The recent weekend, both of your families had dinner together. Unfortunately for you, your parents and his parents are very well-acquainted with each other. Mr. and Mrs. L/N, and Mr. and Mrs. Min's relationship was founded through a business partnership. Despite that, the relationship between the four adults ensued into a deeper level.

Alas, the same couldn't be said with the two offsprings. While their parents considered each other close friends, you and Yoongi acknowledged the other as each other's nemesis.

Everything between you and him always ended up to become a competition. A competition to see who gets on the other's nerves the quicker.

That was why on that particular Saturday night, in a fancy restaurant booked by Yoongi's parents, underneath the rectangular marbled table, you used the advantage of wearing heels that time to sink one of your stilettos on one of his leather shoes when he taunted you. Afterwards, he made a scene, instantly pointing a finger at you when his mother worriedly asked what happened. You promptly defended yourself, saying that it was an accident and that you didn't notice his foot immediately. Then, your beloved mother scolded you in front of them to be more careful because it was bad manners; and that you should act like a proper lady in a five-star Michelin restaurant.

Luckily, he starts to leave you, but only after making up an excuse. "Well, I'm a bit late with my duties, I can't waste time any longer. So, I'll see you later."

He attempts to walk past you, but you had enough time to recover from his pettish outro. As he takes the first steps, you mislead him by moving aside. Then, you slide your foot forwards, miniscule. You watch as his own bumps into yours and in a span of a second, he trips, albeit he regains his balance quickly to your dismay. You almost pouted since he didn't meet the floor with his face.

His calm composure cracks a tiny bit, his eye twitching as he looks at you, his expression now displaying irk. He expected everyone else to look at you as if you were the culprit, but unfortunately, for his part, no one noticed because it is too crowded in the hallway for anyone to catch what you did. Instead, they all had their gazes at him. Some of them awkwardly smiled, while others began to whisper.

Nevertheless, Yoongi ignores them. He stands up straight, fixing the collar of his shirt before waltzing away with his group trailing behind. Unlike earlier, he was tramping, eager to flee the scene and rendering you into a fit of hushed and inconspicuous giggles.

Not today, Snow White. Not today.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You are stuck in another hour of a boring lesson. You lazily spin a pencil around your fingers, with one hand supporting the weight of your chin as you stare outside the window of your classroom, observing the varsity soccer players attempting to score goals.

You unconsciously snicker when one of the players falls on the grass, catching the attention of your math teacher. It took two calls of your name before you faced her, scowling when she says, "Since you seem so confident, not listening to my discussion, will you please be so kind to solve this on the board?"

You raise an eyebrow, looking at her as if saying 'Are you serious?' The teacher doesn't falter, however, and you sigh vexatiously, standing up from your seat and idly ambling across the aisle. You feel the stares of your classmates piercing at your back but you don't waver. Upon reaching the front, you take the marker from your teacher, whose face was still etched into a frown at the behavior you are showing.

You solve the polynomial equation with ease, not even pausing to think. And when you encircled your final answer and turned to return your teacher's marker, she was gaping at you. Smirking in victory, she tells you to return to your seat. And for the rest of the lecture, she doesn't bother you anymore.

After school, you went straight out of the campus, as if the air inside the building had been suffocating you that you even release a long sigh of relief. Frankly, you thought that you had wasted another day because you didn't learn anything new from any of your subjects. All that was discussed, you already know those concepts since you were ten years old.

And now, you wanted to throw a tantrum at your mother when you get home.

You head for the gates of the campus, and as if you didn't have enough on your plate, a car comes revving near you, and before you knew it, it blocks your path, making you abruptly halt your steps. You instantly recognize the model of the vehicle. The driver's door opens and a familiar black bob of hair is revealed. You don't even try to hide your irritation when Yoongi approaches you.

"Get in the car," he demands, opening the passenger door right in front of you.

You don't listen. Instead, you comment, "Nice calculations there. Which theorem did you apply that made the passenger's door end up in front of my face? Show me your scratch papers."

He rolls his eyes, clearly not having your shit. "My mom called me and told me that your mom told her to tell me that I'm dropping you off at your house because your mom is worried that you'll be off somewhere else again and cause trouble, so she wants to make sure that you're not going to do anything stupid again—"

"Hold your horses, Eminem." You flail your hands in front of him. "First of all, drop the your mom tongue twister. Second, I'm not coming with you. Who knows? You might be plotting my death. And third, stop talking to me because people might think that we're friends."

Without waiting for Yoongi's response, you swaggered around his Hyundai Sonata, heading for the campus gates. Relief washes over you when you don't hear the annoying honking of his car. He had left you alone for now.

Besides, how worse could your day get any further?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Your bag drops to the floor once you have registered the sight of your mother guffawing at a joke he said. They were both too occupied in their conversation that they only sensed your presence when you make a beeline for the stairs.

"Y/N," your mother calls, and you stop in your tracks, one foot mid-air. You curse lowly, not being able to even make it for the first tread.

You put on the fakest smile you could muster, making sure that it was discernible that you didn't want to have to do anything with the two most exasperating persons in the room.

"Aren't you gonna join Yoongi and I for snacks?" she says, rendering you to fist your hand. It took a lot of strength from you not to swing a punch at the said male. He was clearly enjoying this. He absolutely knew that you were getting reprimanded again once he leaves the premise.

Your smile twitches, almost cracking but you stay firm. "Sure, I will. Mother." You deliberately stressed the last word. A warning gaze is given to you by your mother.

Smirking lightly, you don't tiptoe anymore, seeing that it was useless. You pull the chair across where Yoongi sat, purposely making the wood screech against the floor. Your mother winces slightly that made you smile triumphantly.

As if nothing had transpired, your mother began to speak. "So, Yoongi here told me that you refused to get a lift from him. You do know that that's basic manners."

"Yes, and you told me not to accept anything from strangers," you deadpan. Your mother's eyes widen in horror, instantly sending Yoongi an apologetic gaze.

"Oh, Yoongi, I'm so sorry about my daughter. I think she meant that she didn't want to a burden to you."

Yoongi waves his hand, a cheeky smile painted on his lips. "It's alright, Mrs. L/N. I get what you mean. I absolutely understand where Y/N is coming from."

Your head was beginning to ache from the exchange that was occurring between the two people you weren't entirely fond of. Before your mother could respond to your nemesis, you cut in.

"Why is he even here, mom?" you demand. Your mother chuckles awkwardly, looking back and forth between you and your enemy.

"Well," she starts. "Your midterms are nearing alongside the weather that is starting to cool off. I invited Yoongi so that you two could study together and maybe consider this as a bonding moment for the two of you—"

You don't let her finish, abruptly standing up from your seat, already shooting daggers at the woman who birthed you.

"Mom, I don't need a study buddy. I can clearly study fine on my own. In fact, I don't need to because I know everything and I assure you that I will ace my midterms just like I've had for the past two years."

Mrs. L/N frowns at your response. "Y/N, if you please, will you stop with the bratty attitude? We have a guest and the least you can do is act accordingly!"

You are certain that your blood had reached its boiling point. "No!" you raise your tone, unbothered by the fact that your rival is literally witnessing the argument that is transpiring right now. What irked you more was that he is probably enjoying the scene unfolding before him. "You're just doing all of these because you know how much I despite it! I hate it, mom. And I absolutely harbor all of the ill feelings you can name towards him!" You point at Yoongi, who is calmly watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

As far as you know, only your parents knew that you loathed Yoongi. That was why you were always comfortable expressing it even in their presence. But whenever his parents were at the scene, that was when you could control your temper, and suppress your irritations, which is why now, you were exploding once again.

"Y/N—!"

"I'm not hearing it," you proclaim, already making way towards the stairs. "Chit-chat with him for all I care. Just leave me be."

You stomp upstairs, making sure you slam your bedroom door shut. Smoke was literally smothering out of yours ears and nostrils as you grabbed the nearest book you had from your shelf and throw it with all your might at the other end of your room. Then, you march towards your bed, falling on it face-first and releasing your screams, muffled by your pillows.

You are so angry and infuriated, mentally wrecking Yoongi with all the curses you could think of. After what seemed like hours of disparaging him in the form of talking to your long-time best friend, Mr. Bear-able, you feel your throat become dry. It is parched and you feel the need to gulp down a gallon of water with how much saliva you used.

Annoyed that you had to leave the comfort of your room to get a glass of water downstairs, you wonder if Yoongi had already left. You check outside, raising the blinds of your window. Then, you grimace, seeing the familiar vehicle parked in front of your house.

Why was that son of a half-troll still here?

You really didn't want to go down and see him, but your throat was literally begging for your thirst to be quenched. You try to weigh the pros and cons, with the cons definitely outweighing the former, but you were still too thirsty. It was sending you to the brim of annoyance so you had no choice but to step out of your room.

Your ears try to hear for movements and conversations, but when you don't, you thought that maybe they were in the backyard. You sigh in relief, albeit too early because when your feet touched the floor of the first floor of your house, you almost lost your balance upon seeing the devil himself standing by the stairs' handrails. The balusters did the job of concealing him because his face is already adorned with a smirk.

"Why the fuck are you here?" you demand. "Where's mom?"

"Out," Yoongi simply answers, sipping on his iced Americano.

"Why?" You cross your arms, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"She felt bad about your tantrum—" he explains nonchalantly. "—so, she insisted to take-out dinner."

"Why didn't you just come with her? That would save us both the case of fighting—"

"I offered to stay and look after you in case something happens, although your mom was still really worried for me in case you might pull something against me. But I assured her that I would be fine." He blinks as if his response was a normal one.

However, you don't buy it, narrowing your eyes and taking a defiant step closer to him. "What are you scheming this time? Wasn't it enough for you that you got to witness me getting reprimanded?"

Yoongi doesn't seem affected because he stands his ground, his eyes reciprocating the determined gaze you were giving him.

He doesn't answer you, and he breaks your eye-contact, looking at something behind you.

"Hey, I asked you a question—"

"It's snowing," he cuts you off.

Mildly confused and musing a what, you turn around to check what he was looking at. And then you see the first fall of snow of the year. Immediately, you feel the chilly breeze of winter prick your skin.

Eyebrows still furrowed, you only move when Yoongi scurries off towards the heater, turning it on. After a few seconds, the cold that you instantly felt is replaced by warmth. Still, you were on edge, because Yoongi was acting really... weird.

You watch him with judgment in your eyes as he makes his way towards the dining room. That's when you see study materials sprawled on the table; Stabilo highlighters with their caps off, arrow sticky notes pasted on top of pages of the textbooks, reviewers spread all throughout the space of the table. He had been clearly studying for midterms. You were disturbed that he had shamelessly claimed territory on your dining room.

You feel the bile crawling up your throat, you are cognizantly displeased at the way Yoongi was acting. You march towards the room, where he was busy organizing his notes.

"Hey!" you squawked. "Will you stop walking around as if this is your house?! And... can you stop that? You're acting weird..." you trail off when Yoongi doesn't even snap at you. He only looks at you as if you were the strange one in the room.

You roll your eyes, opting to get your glass of water from the kitchen instead. If the damn bitch won't respond to you properly then you won't bother to waste your time.

Closing the refrigerator, with one hand holding the pitcher, you jump the second time that day, caught off-guard by your rival standing behind the door of the refrigerator.

"Jesus Christ, Yoongi!" you yell. "I will literally smack you in the face with this pitcher!"

"Huh," he muses. "That's really weird."

"What?" you say in disbelief. "Don't call me weird when between us, you're the one that's acting weird. Fucking leave me alone, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah, exactly." He remains unfazed by your threats. "Strangely, I don't feel anything towards you right now."

"Of course you don't," you scoff. "You hate me. Hello? Have you suddenly become stupid or something?"

Seemingly lost in thought, Yoongi replies, "No, I mean like I literally don't feel anything right now towards you. I don't feel like I hate you right now—"

"Yes, I hear you. Now can you shut the fuck— wait what?" You pause and do a double take on what he just said.

What did he say? That he doesn't hate me right now?

"Look, I don't know what the fuck it is your scheming right now, but I just want to tell you to drop your crap, because I don't believe a single word you're uttering right now," you say, pouring water on a glass. You take a sip before resuming. "Stop saying bullshit, because I won't fall for it."

"I'm not telling you bull right now." He raises both of his hands in surrender. "Ugh, whatever. You probably have the mental capacity of a lizard for you to understand even if I explain—"

"Take that back right now," you threaten him. "Have you forgotten that you always come second to me? Don't get too cocky, you still don't know who you're messing with. It's been three years, you should know now that you can't beat me."

"Whatever you say so, Megamind." He fixes his glasses before returning to the dining room. You warily watch him go back to studying before you climb up back into your room.

Even though you were already inside, you still felt uneasy because of how peculiar Yoongi acted just a few minutes ago.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The gray cement road is replaced with the ivory snow, concealing everything underneath it. It's now the month of November, which meant that your parents are busy preparing for the holidays. That also meant that you had to help them too to your dismay.

You are sitting on your house's porch, a stick in your hand while doodling on the snow. Meanwhile, your father is occupied in attaching the Christmas lights on the gutters of your roof.

He calls your name, and you oblige. You step foot out into the snow weather, bits of frost coating your hair. You crane your neck up the ladder.

"Can you pass me the other string of lights?" he requests, pointing at the said lights sprawled on the snow. You grab it off the floor, taking the end of it. You spin it like a lasso before unleashing it towards your father, who catches it with ease. He laughs, "Nice one!"

You roll your eyes before returning to your earlier position. You begin to scribble again as your mind wanders off somewhere else.

For the past few weeks, you had noticed that something became different. And it was all because of a particular person who was supposed to be the hell of your life. Instead, it seems like he had now become pacified, and he decided that you weren't worth his time anymore.

A part of you feels extremely offended and infuriated because you feel that Yoongi doesn't see you as a menace anymore; that he was now confident that he can easily defeat you; that he doesn't see you as a competition anymore. Another of your part feels concerned and peculiar—as if something is missing. You don't feel the adrenaline pulsating through your veins anymore whenever you saw Yoongi.

When you crossed paths, he would only give you a smile of acknowledgement and then leave before you could even tell him a snarky comment.

Oddly, it was affecting you more than it should be. You were starting to think that maybe this was one of his tactics for you to get distracted. If it was, it was unfortunately working, and you were getting vexed as each day passed by.

You wanted Yoongi to lash out on you. You wanted to feel his anger radiating towards you. You wanted him to feel threatened. You wanted to be the one with the upper hand.

But instead, you were feeling none of those from him. It was rendering you to madness because even though you wanted to deny it so bad, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

And maybe, just maybe, you thought that something different was also brewing inside you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

November flew by in a blur and before you even knew it, you only had two weeks before midterms. You and your mother were busy setting up the Christmas tree. She was busy handing you the ornaments and garlands, and directing you where to place them.

"There," your mother says. "A little bit up. Nope, down. Nevermind, put it up again."

You groan in annoyance. "Mom, can you please make up your mind? My arms are starting to sore."

She gives you a sheepish smile from below. You feel goosebumps pricking your skin, disturbed by your mother's expression. It was the first time you saw that kind of smile from her.

"You're creeping me out," you say.

"Oh, it's nothing," your mother tells you. "It's just... recently I've noticed how you seem at peace now unlike before. It's nice..." she hesitates a bit but when she sees you only looking at her and listening intently, she finds the courage to express to you, "It's nice that we're finally having a mother-and-daughter bonding experience since... I don't know, maybe since you were one?"

You laugh. You actually laugh genuinely at what she says. You climb down the ladder, dusting your hands on your sweater. Peace. A word that its meaning which you know, but don't know what it feels. It is a foreign feeling and peculiar. Only then when your mother notices it you realize that maybe that was the right word you were looking for to describe your interiority right now.

But as soon as you take cognizance of it, your mother crashes it when she lets you know the news.

"Yoongi's family is having dinner with us on the Eve," she informs you, and your smile stiffens. "I expect that you'll be on your best behavior."

She looks at you expectantly, and it was enough to let her know that you aren't fond of the idea because you say,

"I'd rather be a Christmas feast to a cat, honestly."

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"To be honest, I'd rather feast on a mouse, mom," Yoongi says when his mother informs him their plan for the evening of Christmas Eve.

She laughs heartily. "Why would you say that, dear? Is it because of Y/N? Are you still uptight around her because of her gift?"

Yoongi shudders at the mere mention of your name for some unknown reason that he couldn't decipher. He denies it, shaking his head.

Then, her mother's eyes sparkled. She leans forward and whispers, "Then... have you gotten fond of her? You seem to be more nervous than before, Yoongi. Whenever we spend time with the L/Ns, you always seem so determined, and you look forward to spend time with their family. Why do you seem so uneasy now?"

"Err, it's not that, mom." Yoongi tries to distract himself by sipping on his iced Americano, but that doesn't ease his nerves. He regrets ordering his usual drink on the cold season because his shivering is amplified. "It's just... midterms' soon, and I'm just stressed, I guess."

"Stressed?" His mother repeats. "That's the first time I've heard that word from you, dear."

"Is it?" Yoongi chuckles awkwardly.

Mrs. Min emits another lighthearted laugh. "Yoongi, I know you more than anyone else. Don't even deny it, you have taken quite a liking for the L/Ns' daughter, haven't you?"

Yoongi gapes at his mother's proclamation. He immediately shakes his head vehemently. "Mom, that's ridiculous. Of course, I haven't. She hates me." At the last sentence, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But his bitter tone doesn't come unnoticed to his mother.

"Does she?" she innocently asks.

"Yeah." Yoongi sighs, pressing his lips into a thin line that resembled a bracket. It was a habit of his whenever he feels displeased. "She hates the mere sight of me, mom. And we compete for the first place, every time. She hates the fact that I'm always second to her because she's threatened that I might overthrow her anytime! It's annoying to be honest. But now, I'll just let her have her way. I'm just going to focus on studying for midterms. She's not worth my time, anyway."

Of course he was half-lying. He wanted nothing more but to continue this rivalry you two had. But these days, he had been in conflict with his inner self. He didn't want you having your way, he wanted to conquer you. But also, another side of him is troubling him. He didn't want to continue fighting you any longer for some reason. Yoongi doesn't know if he simply got tired of it or if it was because of something else that he couldn't pinpoint.

Either way, he didn't want to interact with you for the mean time. He had to figure whatever the shit was happening to his brain. Had he finally lost it?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You were serene as usual when midterms ended. You can't help but feel pride swelling on your chest as you listened to your classmates' complaints and sighs of regrets because they had a lot harder time getting through each question of the exams than you did.

But somehow, there was something missing; the thrill. Your mind wanders to your nemesis, wondering how he did in his exams.

When you were all dismissed, the hallways are instantaneously filled with students, celebrating their triumphs and the fact that they were now free from school. Instinctively, you try the look for a familiar midget with black bob hair and round-rimmed glasses.

And when you do see him, a smirk makes its way to your lips. You march confidently to his way. He doesn't notice your presence until you blocked his way, causing him to look up from his phone to acknowledge you.

"Hey, Potter," you drawl, playing with the ends of your hair. He rolls his eyes at the nickname you call him.

"What do you want?" he straightly gets to the point. You raise an eyebrow, a bit caught off-guard by his question.

That was a good one because yeah, what the hell did you want? Why did you approach him in the first place?

Yoongi unintentionally saves you from the embarrassment. His feline eyes narrow and he smugly smiles. "Oh, are you concerned about how I did well in my exams? Are you perhaps... threatened?"

You scowl, pointing a finger at him. "Don't get so brazen. I'm just here to tell you not to feel too self-assured. I know what you've been up to lately. You've been trying to distract me by not acknowledging my presence for the past few weeks. You think that that's all it takes for me to back down? Nah-uh. Nice try, Yoongi, but try harder."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, fascinated at your assumptions. "So, that's what you've been presuming." Then, he shrugs, "Look, doll, I don't know where such thoughts of yours suddenly came from, but I'm just saying that that sounds like a you problem. I'm not doing anything, but it seems like you're turning into one of them, having delusions about me."

You cringe and sneer. "You can't be serious, Yoongi. Now, you're the delusional one!" The way he was smirking victoriously made you want to slap the mocking smile off of his face.

You decide to end the interaction, curtly pivoting on your heels and strutting away from Yoongi, whose piercing eyes never left your figure until you disappeared from his line of sight.

In the back of his mind, he is contemplating. He ponders if you were right. For the first time in his lifetime, he was considering what you said.

Meanwhile, you were stomping on piles of snows. You were furious at the lack of energy Yoongi was showing you. He really seemed like he didn't give a damn anymore about you. He was so laid-back and relaxed and that made your confidence dwindle a bit, wondering what had he pulled from his sleeves.

Your mood remains sour the whole time you walked home. People who passed by you probably thought that you were releasing dragon breaths if not for the freezing weather.

You were basically tramping on the floor of your living room, immediately catching the attention of your mother, who scampers out of the kitchen to check out the commotion. She sees you muttering incoherent words to yourself and you only stop when she gets your attention.

"Did something happen, Y/N?" she questions. "Why are you in a sour mood? Did something happen with your exams?"

"No, mom!" you immediately answer. "In fact, I aced the exams, I'm certain! You don't need to worry about anything. It's just that—" you abruptly stop. Your mother looks at you, waiting for you to continue but you don't.

Frankly, you're confused yourself, suddenly wondering why were you so worked up. You didn't have to worry about anything, you were a hundred percent confident that you did outstandingly in your exams.

"Y/N?" Your mother's voice pulls you out of your trance.

"It's nothing!" you exclaim. "Just tired. I'm going to my room, if you don't mind." You start going up the stairs. "Call me if you need help." Your voice echoes in the first floor.

Mrs. L/N blinks, finding your behavior strange lately. Yet, she shrugs it off and goes back to working in the kitchen.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"Y/N, please stop harassing the carrots," your mother says. "They did nothing to you."

You stop cutting the vegetable, noticing that indeed, the whole carrot was now mashed. You sigh, not realizing that you've been cutting angrily.

"If you're not in the mood, I can cook myself. You can go on and set the table instead."

You don't argue, abandoning the knife and mashed carrots before making way towards the cabinets where your mother kept the utensils for special occasions.

It was finally the day of your impending doom. Christmas Eve. Dinner with the Min family, and honestly, you didn't know what to feel. The last time Yoongi visited was when you and your mother had an argument right in front of him. It was also the day everything changed. You wonder if the argument that transpired traumatized him, rendering him to madness. Or maybe he was diagnosed with a disorder.

There I go again. Why the hell am I even thinking about him? Focus at the task at hand, Y/N—

You reach out for the stack of plates but one of them slips from your grasp, clattering and breaking on the floor. Your mother jumps, and she starts to scold you as you bent down and picked up the broken pieces.

"Y/N, seriously, what is going on with you?" she exclaims. "You've been so out of it!"

You sigh, fluttering your eyes close for a moment. When you open them, you wince, suddenly feeling blood rushing towards your index finger. You look down and see rivulets of ruby spilling out of your skin.

Mrs. L/N notices your trance and she follows your gaze. Her eyes widen and she gasps, instantly ushering you to rinse your wound and put a band aid on it.

You obey, grabbing the opportunity of ephemeral peace. In the bathroom, you dab the small laceration with Betadine, before wrapping it up with a band aid. Then, your ears register the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the door.

It didn't take you long to realize that the Min family has entered your residence. And that meant, Yoongi was also here. Your last interaction with him was at the school hallway, where you two had a small argument about which one of you was the delusional one. It was an awkward one, to be honest. It didn't feel like your previous fights.

You slap your forehead with your wounded hand, wincing and mentally cursing yourself because of your stupidity. It was ironic, to be frank. You were gifted with an incredible high IQ, but your EQ was equivalently low.

After a few minutes of attempts to calm yourself down, you finally step out of the bathroom, sauntering towards the living room to make your presence known. Mrs. Min acknowledges you, giving you a peck in the cheek. You awkwardly stand before her as she compliments your crown braid hairstyle and the baby blue turtleneck dress that you wore, matched with a pair of flats because you didn't do well in heels in cold weathers.

Her attention pans towards your father, greeting him with the same enthusiasm and you finally felt like you could breathe. But that's when you see him too.

Yoongi is standing in the sidelines, observing the interaction between the four adults. He is obviously avoiding your eyes but you don't notice it, of course. He could literally feel your burning stare on him that he was starting to feel his legs buckle.

However, all those went over your head. You pay heed on his outfit. He didn't seem... too bad. You acknowledge that he has a sense of fashion. He is wearing a pair of beige slacks, complimenting his skin tone. The black leather belt that hugged his waist is a contrast to his white button up long sleeve, a cream-colored knitted vest resting on top of it.

When you look at his eyes, you find him already staring at you. Clearly, he had completely failed avoiding at looking at you. You two continued to have a staredown when Mrs. Min calls the attention of the two of you.

"Y/N, Yoongi! Take your seats. Let's bless the food and eat!"

After dinner, the four adults in the room began to chat with the company of champagne and whiskey. Meanwhile, you and Yoongi were tasked to do the dishes. So, as much as to your disappointment, you were stuck with him. He soaps the dishes while you rinsed them. The situation was awkward because you two were enveloped in a uncomfortable silence. The only sources of sound between you were the voices and laughters coming from the living room.

Earlier, your mother had warned you to be in your best behavior for the umpteenth time, and you don't even fight her on it because 1) you didn't have the energy to engage in a war anyways and 2) Min Yoongi had been passive so you actually had no reason to go into a fit of rage. But still, there is a slight disappointment in you because of the lack of interaction you were having with the said boy.

It was like he had gone mute. To you, it's irksome but also, you were starting to feel concerned. However, your pride was more essential to you, so you don't ask Yoongi what has been bothering him lately because 1) he's your nemesis, you aren't supposed to care for his well-being and 2) it might be a part of his grandmaster plan of plotting your demise.

After drying your hands, you don't bother to wait for Yoongi. Passing by the adults in the living room, you silently exit through the front door to get some fresh air.

As if finally freeing yourself from constriction, you inhale the scent of snowflakes and exhale through your nose, an icy breath leaving your lips. You don't notice the front door opening once again. You don't notice the pair of footsteps padding against the soft snow. You only notice it when the footsteps stop beside you.

You turn your head slightly and see Yoongi, who's looking straight ahead. Cautiously, you take a step to your right to increase the distance between you two.

He notices instantly because he scoffs, "I'm not going to bite you."

"I was just making sure," you reason out. "Why are you here, anyway? Did your mom tell you to? You can drop the act now."

He looks at you in disbelief. "I didn't come out here because I was told to. I came here on my own accord."

You frown. "You're legit scaring me now. Will you stop it already?"

This time, Yoongi doesn't let his gaze leave your face. He is intently looking at you, as if scrutinizing every movement you made. Instinctively, you tuck your chin inside the collar of your turtleneck, hoping that it would shield you from his piercing eyes. It doesn't work out.

"I'm not doing anything, Y/N," he says calmly. "It's you who's overthinking—"

"Oh, stop!" You wave your hands at him. "I'm not stupid, Yoongi. You thought I wouldn't notice the way you're acting differently around me now? You don't seem to have that fiery eyes on me every time we talked. It's sickening, almost like you're mocking me."

A silence envelops the two of you, and you feel your cheeks reddening, partly because of the cold but mostly because of the boy who stood beside you.

"You know," he finally speaks. "It's not that difficult to admit to yourself that you missed me."

This time, you have the strength and courage to actually look at him dead in the eyes. "Are you planning to major in slapstick comedy? Because if yes, then I say go for it. Undoubtedly, you'll be the valedictorian just like you always dream of."

He snickers, tilting his head lightly as he reciprocates your incandescent gaze. "You're funny," he tells you.

"See?!" you exclaim. "This is what I mean! Why aren't you arguing back?" You stomp your foot.

He blinks, finding your question dumb. "Because I simply don't want to?" he answers albeit unsure of it himself.

You cross your arms and emit a scoff. "Sure, you do."

"Look," Yoongi starts. "If you're expecting me to argue with you, I won't. I already told you before, a few months ago, I don't abhor you as much as I do before."

"Why?" you ask and this time, he scoffs.

"Why?" he repeats. "For a person like you with immensely high IQ, you suck at reading the room."

Before you could protest, he interrupts you, making sure that your attention was only on him. He takes two steps towards you, decreasing the distance between your bodies.

"Y/N, I may be the bad guy but I'm not a bad guy," he says. "To be honest with you, I, myself, am confused too. I don't strongly loathe you these past few months and I've been questioning myself why either. But—"

He stops and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What happened to your finger?"

His question catches you off-guard, rendering you to caress the covered part of your skin. You flinch slightly when he holds your hand, raising it to get a proper look on it. His face scrunches and for the first time, you feel something somersaulting in your stomach. You didn't know if you liked it or not, but it was certainly making you feel discomfort.

When you start to feel overwhelmed, you pulled away from his touch, placing your hand to your chest. "I-I'm fine," you stammer.

"Are you sure?" he worriedly asks.

"Yes, I am!" You didn't mean to yell at him but you couldn't help it. He has been making you feel lots emotion. He was confusing you, and the more and more time you were out here with him, the more you were driving to madness.

"You know," he smirks. "If you could stop yelling at me for a second, I could show you much more fun and productive uses for that mouth of yours."

You gape at him, and you start walking backwards when he begins to take defiant steps closer to you. Every time you stepped back, he takes one towards you too. As your back hits the cold exterior walls of your house, you gasp lightly when Yoongi encages you between the walls and his arms, his hands falling on either side of you.

Light snow pelted on both of you but that isn't the reason why you flinch. The reason is because he leans close, increasing the proximity of your faces.

"Yoongi—" you begin to protest but he doesn't let you.

His forehead touches yours and you yelped slightly at the way he is treating you right now. His eyes flutter shut and he speaks in low manner that had you trembling in your position.

"Y/N, you're absolutely driving me crazy," he murmurs. "Like I said, I'm so confused too. My heart and mind are clouded because lately, you've been occupying my thoughts. I loathe the way you bewitch me whenever you use your sharp tongue against me. I despise how you can easily get under my nerves but also it satisfies me whenever you attempt to put me in my place, when you give me a taste of my own medicine."

He pauses, fluttering his eyes open. He leans away slightly, the warmth emanated from his forehead leaving you instantly.

"There is no other plausible explanation for this except for the possibility that... I have been harboring feelings for you for quite awhile now, Y/N." He exhales softly, as if a huge weight has been finally lifted off of his shoulders. "And it's not what you're thinking of. It's the opposite of it."

The world stops for a moment, the snowflakes stop falling, and the time stops ticking. You only hear his soft breaths that had never sounded so calm up until this moment.

"I like you, Y/N." He shows you a coy smile. "And right now, I'm surrendering to you. You can continue to hate me if you want, but it won't change my feelings for you."

Your heart is hammering against your chest wildly, and you only hope that Yoongi isn't hearing how loudly it was beating against your ribcage. As the silence between you two continues to prolong, the harder it was for you to formulate a coherent response.

A buzzing sound slices the still atmosphere and you usher Yoongi to check his phone. He does, sighing in dismay. You warily watch him as he opens his messaging app. You awkwardly stand before him as he scrolls through his chats.

His expression morphs into perturbation. The lump that had formed in his throat getting harder to swallow. You notice his adam's apple bob up and down and you start to wonder what happened.

Then, his eyes leave the screen, searching for yours. When your gazes collide, the confidence that he had a few minutes ago was now gone, replaced by anxiousness.

"I think..." He says reluctantly. "You need to see this."

He hands you his device and you impassively check out what he saw. Then, the blood drains from your skin, your own expression alters to skepticism first, then turns to perplexity once you double take on the image viewed on the screen.

At first, you didn't know what to feel. Your mind going haywire for a fleeting moment. You felt even worse when you look up at Yoongi because his emotion was anything but jubilance. In fact, he rather looks like he was in agony.

But you don't care about that. Your anger only rises, traveling through your veins. At that very moment, standing before your own rival, you were beyond humiliated and enraged that he witnessed your downfall, the scarlet ink being the proof of it.

Top Performers for This Year's Midterms

1. Min Yoongi

2. L/N Y/N

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The Christmas jingles resonating all throughout the suburbs was unnecessarily aggravating you more than it should be for the reasons that you are making it sound like Christmas is mocking your once exuberant mood a few days ago, and because you didn't like the gift and news you received that night.

Despite the freezing weather's attempts to cool you down, it was heightening your fury instead. Four days after Christmas Eve, you kicked the sheets off yourself and impulsively decided that a walk in the suburbs will be a great idea so that you can finally turn your sour mood into a sweet one.

Alas, it fails miserably. You are still trampling on snow piles as your fervent eyes scan the shops in the sidewalks, desperately trying to look for something that can finally extinguish the fires within you.

But when you reach the end of the street, the tall buildings of stores turning into festive bungalows, and decorated apartments. The worst of all is the duplexes, because the decorations of both similar-structured houses have conjoined Christmas embellishments, letting everyone who passes by know that the two families living inside are more than acquaintances.

It stupidly reminds you of your family's current situation with them. More specifically, your situation with him.

When you finally reach the comfort of your bedroom, contradictory, it doesn't feel comforting at all. Everywhere your gaze lands, they remind you of him; of the fact that he had finally conquered you; that all your hardwork that year were for nothing.

Shutting your eyes close, you begin to recite the numbers of pi, pacing around your room. It was something that you always do when you're stressed.

"...190914564856692346034861045432664821339!" When the door of your bedroom creaks open, you couldn't help but yell nine, as if threatening the one who dares to interrupt your attempts to keep yourself level-headed.

You were about to glare but instead, you were surprised to see your father, peeking through the crevice of your door. You notice that he's slightly anxious because, well, you were screaming numbers.

A sigh escapes your lips and you shuffle towards the door, opening it wider. Your father takes this as a sign that he was invited in your room.

Your relationship with your father is very much uptight and timid which is why between him and your mother, you're less angry at him. At times though, you didn't know how to act around him because you feel like you don't know him. You never bonded with him. Except for that time you were helping him out with connecting the Christmas lights on your roof's gutters.

After that fleeting moment, the bond was gone, as if a scissor magically appeared to cut the strings between you two. You don't hate him for it, but sometimes, you wonder and daydream possible moments where you could actually bond without that suffocating rope forcedly tying you two together.

You wonder if in the past, in the years when you were still full of innocence, purity, oblivious of the histories of the ancient world; when you still didn't know how to count one to three; when you barely knew how to lift a muscle and take the first steps towards your father.

Had he ever squat down before you, his face full of sunshine, and encourage you to come to him with open arms? Tell you that you could do it! That you could make it to the heartwarming embrace of your father's arms?

But the more you try to dig any sort of memory from your lobes, nothing resurfaces. And you were back with the reality that, maybe, he didn't need and have to do all of those.

Because as far as your memory traveled back, you had been completely fine on your own. Maybe, you taught yourself how to walk, think, say your first word.

Because, you were gifted.

And now, as the years go by, you realize that the gift you have, may be also your curse.

It's a tightrope with both ends holding you up, urging you to keep on walking. A gift and a curse on either end, shouting at you—

Stop standing around!

The rope's about to break if you don't start moving another step!

What has gotten into you?!

You used to do this so effortlessly!

"Y/N."

The call of your father's soft voice pulls you out of your trance. You suddenly realize that you had been standing by the door stupidly and your father is looking at you with worry creasing his mature features.

"Oh," you say. "My bad."

You shut the door then turn your back towards your father. You amble towards your desk, attempting to fix the sprawled mess on it by carelessly shoving the scratch papers in your bin, keeping your ballpens and pencils in your pencil case, the zipper loudly being the only source of sound slicing through the deafening silence.

"Sorry about the mess," you say. "I've been busy."

"On your holiday break?" your father asks, chuckling lightly. The sound faintly makes your lips form into a small smile. But as soon as it came, it disappears.

"Yeah, well, I'm growing older. And that means the more I age, the more my ability to suck in information rusts."

Your father doesn't reply after that, so you continue to clean up your desk wordlessly. Once you had nothing to pick up and throw and keep anymore, you finally turn back around to face your father.

He's sitting quiety on the foot of your bed, and you take heed of the small box he's fiddling with his hands. The box is covered with red wrapper, with flurries of snowflakes as pattern.

He notices that your attention is on him, so he stands up from your bed and approaches you in a relaxing manner yet you can catch on the slight cautiousness along it. You decide not to mention anything about it.

He hands you the little parcel, and you accept it wordlessly, opting to wait for him to speak first.

He does. "I wasn't able to get you any gift on Christmas, and I hope I'm not too late. I had a bit of a hard time picking one, but I made sure I thought about it. Hopefully, you'll like this small present."

"Thanks, dad," is your only verbose reply.

He nods and after contemplating a bit, he decides to leave you to it. In your own solitude once again, you scrutinize the small box, tossing it lightly every now and then to guess what it was. You feel movement from inside, like a flow of something liquid.

Your curiosity makes you rip the wrapper apart and it didn't take long for the gift to make its apparition.

The gift is simple like its size, but to you, it holds a lot of meaning. It's a snowglobe, but the inside is what makes it unique. No, Santa Claus isn't there inside nor were the nine reindeers that pulled his sleigh—even the sleigh itself is absent. Rudolph isn't there which makes you slightly pout but it doesn't last long because staring back at you from the other side of the glass is a small girl with Iron Man's arm around her. He is almost hugging her but his other arm remains at his side.

You shake the globe in your hands, chuckling at the bits of snow encompassing the small figures inside.

Indeed, it reminds you of something. You and your father.

But for the first time in forever, you aren't longing. Rather, you are contented.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

It is still snowing a week after New Year. Nothing much happened. You only had a family dinner, watched fireworks, and jumped around because of your belief that you would grow taller if you do so.

But after the first day of the year, things went back to normal. The only difference is the relentless snow pouring everywhere.

Oh, and classes are resumed.

Miraculously, you don't feel as much anger as you did a few weeks ago. You don't know if it's because it's a new year so you just suddenly feel like oh, fuck it, it's been a long ass while, I should chill the eff out.

Weirdly enough, you expected to be really infuriated when your feet leads you to the bulletin board and scan it. You see your name, beside the number two. It sinks in to you of the reality that you're now second but oddly, you don't feel the particular element surging through your veins.

You thought everything's going well so far. And you must have a curse because every time you thought that all is well, that's when the real torrential typhoon arrives.

Tornados hit everywhere, and instead of rainshowers, you see hails vehemently falling on yourself. It hurts so much more than rain, but you had to get through it anyways. Or else, you would die getting shot by mere ice. It was gonna be embarrassing if your soul sees your grave with the words 'Cause of death: ice' engraved on your tombstone.

So, you make sure that you are under control when Min Yoongi does his usual entrance, greeting the student body with nods and smiles. It's slightly different now though, because some of them greeted him back with congratulations.

You resist your eye wanting to twitch when Yoongi's gaze finally lands on you.

A year ago and a year before that, you would always see his eyes fiery and intense, trying to get under your nerves with a mere eye contact. Now, however, his eyes hold on anything but anger. The sight of him doesn't infuriate you for the first time, but it does provoke you for another reason that you were afraid to unravel.

You desperately want to bury what you're feeling six feet below, because as much as you loathe it, you can't help but trail your mind back to that particular night when he had declared his feelings for you.

"I like you, Y/N."

Was that even possible? Was it possible, at all, to grow feelings for the person who constantly tormented you for the years you've known them? You couldn't wrap your mind around it, no matter how smart you are, it seems like you couldn't find any plausible explanation for such circumstances.

Not even when the devil himself is only three inches away from you, did you successfully come up with a conceivable reason.

Yoongi greets you but you don't respond. The crowd was anticipating what would your response be, and you refuse to give them the satisfaction. Instead, you walk past him, not even sparing a glance to any of the spectators. You also drown out their whispers, making you want to yell at them 'Why whisper when I would still hear it anyway, dumbos?'

You don't utter a single world, opting to force to smother the flames instead, maybe bury them deep within your ribcage, lock it with a key and throw it in the Altantic Ocean, hoping that it will land on the Titanic where no one could ever take it. Not even you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You spent the whole day in school cocooned in your hoodie, attempting to take naps despite of the loud voices of your teachers and classmates. But you only end up being wide awake, your eyes open, your face on the desk, seeing nothing but black. You succumb in yourself in the trenches of your own thoughts, and you finally drift off.

You don't know how long you've fallen asleep, but your consciousness slowly enters your systems, causing you to become suddenly aware of your surroundings. Unlike a few minutes—or hours—ago, the ambience is silent. Too silent.

When you open your eyes and move your arms slightly, your brows furrow in confusion when the darkness remains. You have no idea if your sense of hearing had heightened in the span of your sleep or if the sound is just extremely loud because you can hear someone breathing, as if they were just beside you.

Squinting your eyes, you brace for the brightness of the world to blind you, but you still see nothing.

You rub your eyes to adjust your sight in the dark. And you finally realize that it is night time. The stars are awake, looking down on you as they twinkle. The moon is round, as if it is luring you to spill your secrets.

Most importantly, you finally process the presence beside you. The main sound source of breathing.

Min Yoongi.

When you look at him, he's already staring at you. It reminds you of that certain night once again. Come to think of it, the situation you both are in is similar. It's night time again.

"What are you doing here?" It's you who breaks the silence. Your voice is slightly hoarse so you clear your throat.

"I could ask you the same." Yoongi shrugs. He leans on his desk, propping his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

"I fell asleep," you merely say.

"I figured," he replies. "But you slept through your classes? Even after it ended?Huh, I never took you for a deep sleeper."

"It's because of the weather." You grit your teeth, starting to feel annoyed at the exchange you're having with your nemesis.

Your bitter tone, however, doesn't come unnoticed to Yoongi.

"Why are you grumpy? Shouldn't you feel better after a nap?"

"You could say that I woke up on the wrong side of my desk."

He lets out a laugh at your response, and you furrow your eyebrows and frown because your intention wasn't to make a joke.

"Is that your awkward way of flirting with me?" He gives you a coquettish smile.

Your face distorts into disgust. "You're ridiculous."

"What?" Yoongi tilts his head. "You said you woke up on the wrong side of your desk, which is the opposite of where I am. Do you think you would've been in a less sour mood if it was my face you saw first?"

You mentally kick yourself for being slow. Moreoever, you also curse lowly because your heart stopped beating for a fleeting moment.

You also can't contain your irritation any longer. You grimace, making your vexation perceivable to the boy who sat beside you.

"You're really getting on my nerves," you say. "This was your goal all along, right? To deter me away from focus. This was your grandmaster plan all along. To get ahead of me. Well, guess what?" You abruptly stand up from your chair, the furniture screeching against the floor. The eerie sound reverberates through the whole room yet Yoongi doesn't flinch.

"Congratulations, Yoongi," you seethe. "Congratulations for beating me! Did you have fun distracting me? Also, cut the crap, will you? You weren't here because you wanted to set a romantic mood, and maybe try again in making me fall for you, yes? No, you don't have to go through all that bullshit. Not at all. Because right now. Right here, I am giving you the full permission of mocking me! Tada! Isn't this fun? It's all going well for you, isn't it, hm?"

You were now leaning forward, your face right in front of him. You gathered that much of your confidence because you already knew it would be your last. Because the following days, you would probably be drooping in humilation.

However, Yoongi stays put in his seat, his eyes void of any emotion you could decipher. He only looks at you. The silence envelopes the both of you again, and you were losing every bit of patience you had left within you.

But the silence breaks as soon as you acknowledge it.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Yoongi's question-declaration cuts you deep. Your breath hitches and you feel like someone had taken your lifeline.

"Wha—"

"You know," he speaks again. "For all the years I've known you, I always thought that even if we were in an apocalypse; if we were the last humans on earth, I would rather date a zombie that have myself associated with you. It was always easier that way, right?" He pauses, looking briefly at you before shifting his gaze at the silvery scenery outside. "It was easy... but now, it's difficult to think that way. Because in all my life, I have never even considered, thought about falling for you."

At the last word, his eyes meet yours and a thousand galaxies can be seen in his irises. You can see your own reflection in his eyes, unsaid words starting to spill out the more stars his eyes consumed.

"Your brutal words used to be my melodies, because whenever I hear you utter words of hatred at me, they become my symphonies. I was always satisfied having successfully gotten into your nerves. But now, they're like bullets to me. Your wicked words are curses to me. Whenever you express your loathe, they come across as daggers now. But they also bewitch me in some way, because I know that you don't vehemently hate anyone else as much as you hate me."

A soft wind kisses both of your skin, serving as the temporary rest between the overwhelming tension between you.

"But I can't help but think..." He moves from his seat, standing up from it and you are forced to stand properly as well.

He takes a step closer to you. "That maybe, just maybe, we are on the same boat."

"That maybe, the reason you're getting so worked up on me right now is because you feel the same way." Another step closer.

"That maybe, I'm not going insane. That this is all totally normal for me to feel." Another step closer.

The back of your knees hit the teacher's desk, and you yelp slightly at the familiar proximity of your bodies. The night of Christmas Eve haunts you back, but oddly, it doesn't asphyxiate you. Rather it dawns on you in a soothing manner, but also in a way that the weight of the world on your shoulders becomes a bit bearable.

The eventual arrives upon you and it hits you like a meteor plunging on the earth's surface, burying itself deep within the soil so that it becomes a part of the planet. Everything started to make sense to you at this very moment; why you cared so much about how well Yoongi did in every exam you took; why it seems that everything he does gets under your skin; why everything he says stuck to you the most, etching on your mind and it becomes a mantra in your head.

It had always been him. You had always loved that fucker, even more this moment of realization. And it terrifies you now more than anything. You wanted to incessantly succumb yourself under denial, but you knew you would only feel worse than you already are.

You can't push him away any longer, because the more you do, the more your world collapses, and sooner or later you will find yourself underneath the heap of rubble you created yourself. That no matter how vehement you scream for help, nobody will come to you.

But in the depths of your abyssal thoughts, you finally conjure the image of your worst enemy; the one who pulls you out of the demolished building; the one who embraces you and whisper you sweet nothings.

You unconsciously sought Yoongi in all seasons because he have always been the one who saw you; he's the cold wind that caresses your cheeks, the storm that torments you, the sunlight that blinds you, the water that pours on you so that you'll bloom.

And now, the autumn leaves that delicately descend on your palms, and you nuzzle your nose against his, the warmth emanating from him instilling in yours.

His lips ghost over yours, and he whispers, "Tell me to stop. And if you don't... I will take that as your indication that you're returning my feelings."

Yoongi's lips are soft when he brushes it against yours a few times before he presses deeper. His lips are sweet when you taste him the first time in your tongue. His kiss is deliberately and painfully slow but he fills you to the brim, taking in all of your cold breaths. His touch is gentle and tender, stroking the soft skin of your nape as he searches for an angle that can fully quench his desire for you.

It was nothing like you ever imagined, because you never did. Only in this moment, did you let your mind wander to dangerous territory. Your fantasies getting vivid as each second passed by as he drinks in your breathless exhales, strokes your hip lovingly.

Your eyes are still fluttered shut when the warmth of his mouth leaves yours, and you suddenly feel empty. When you open them, his beauty greets you and your eyes that once held fervid flames are extinguished into something much more gentle and fond.

That's all that it takes for Yoongi to know what you truly feel about him.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The blanket of snow dissipates, replaced by the freshly-bloomed flowers, coating the once melancholic pavement. Flocks of birds fills the void, the leaves rustle, and the world seems a whole lot livelier than before.

Furthermore, you are much more in a state of tranquility.

Spring break arrives sooner than you expected, and you are once again free from the bars of school. Lately, however, you don't deem that place like a prison anymore. It had become much more bearable and breathable for you to step foot on it.

One, because being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore (partly because you had a recent discovery that you pretty much enjoyed being at the bottom, if you know what I mean). Two, because you decided that you're going to use your gift in a much more calmer way, where you won't have to stress too much about your grades, as long as you continue to do well in every aspect of your academic performance.

And three, because you look forward for the rendezvouses your boyfriend plans every single week day.

Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and janitors' closets, discreet hand-holdings in crowded public spaces such as the cafeteria, playful banters in the hallways to put on a show for everyone to see, the thrill of getting caught whenever things got a little bit too heated between the two of you in the darkness of storage rooms.

Yeah, while everyone else still thinks you're each other's rivals, you two have a secret relationship taking place in the premises, right under their noses.

Yoongi and you had no problem about it at all. You two came into a mutual agreement that you were going to keep this rivalry thing going on only for the sake of the adrenaline rush pumping through both of your veins at the thought of your schoolmates possibly finding out what has been transpiring between the two of you.

You've never understood the meaning of love and hate until now. They are two emotions, not entirely the opposite of each other, but they belong to both sides of a coin. The coin wouldn't exist without the other. That's why you worry less about the future that awaits you, because it's Yoongi.

Yoongi had seen you in your worst and so did you had seen his. There's that fine line that exists between the both of you of love and hate, which is why you think that indifference is the opposite of love instead. Because with indifference, you don't give a damn about that person. That isn't the case for you at all on what you feel towards Yoongi.

He is the psychedelic drug you never want to stop drinking. It feels overwhelming at times, but you feel good. And you make sure to return the favor when the coin lands on your side.

Once again, he pulls you out of your reverie, intertwining his fingers with yours. He keeps your hands in the pocket of his coat, while you blush underneath his stare. He walks ahead slightly, pulling you along with him. You don't know where he'll take you on your umpteenth date, but you let him do as he pleases to you.

Yeah, this feels all right.

Maybe, you don't mind him being at the top at all. As long as it was always you who follows behind him.

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[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

[vynmin]

╰┈➤ Don't Fall in Love

CH2 - Blades and Band-aids

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ˏˋ°•\*⁀➷ Summary: A bright young girl witnesses her lover being killed by her very own brother. Nothing out of the ordinary for a family with too many connections with the wrong people. Now she locks herself away in her room refusing to talk to anyone in the family. Or she walks out to visit the corner store owned by the same old man to buy the only things she’ll eat nowadays when one day she has a fateful encounter with the old man’s grandson.

ꕥ Pairing - jungkook x fem.reader

ꕥ Genre - allegedly unrequited love, sloowww burn, lowkey enemies to lovers?,

ꕥ Warnings CH2! - bloody murder! (flashbacks/nightmares), blood, profanity, fighting, brief mention of drugs, graphic nightmares, panic attacks, self-harm, scars, (some interesting decision making I do not recommend) 

ꕥ Word Count - 6.5k

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The bright lights illuminated the city streets as you made your way back longing to feel the comfort of the sanctuary. As you neared the house you saw how the amount of cars in the driveway were less than usual and how silent the house seemed even from the outside. Hoping no one would be home upon your entry back you hit the code entering the house. As you walked through the dark hall the light of a lamp flickered as a voice began to question, 

“Where have you been all day?” Yoongi said, arching his eyebrow, still surprised you had left even your room let alone the house gates. Barely acknowledging the elder you shoved your hands in your pocket making your way upstairs when you were stopped again. 

“I want to know for your safety you shouldn’t be out all day and coming back at this hour. You know it’s not safe for people like us.” He tried to reason as you scoffed, chuckling a bit at the claims he had just made. 

“Yes I’m so scared for my safety when my brother killed my boyfriend. Or the fact that anyone close to me receives bribes to stay away from me. Yes, I am shaking in my boots at the thought of leaving this shit hole.” you taunted as he watched, taking the time to find his words wisely this time. 

“That has nothing to do with this and you know it doesn't,” he said sternly clearing his throat to begin again, 

“You won’t be leaving this house without guards whenever you feel like it because if you get your ass scoped I’ll be the one getting all the shit cause you wanted to take a trip to hell and not come back.” He said in a louder tone staring at you with those dark eyes you hated seeing paint his face. Knowing he was serious about his words you were just as determined to make sure his rules weren’t obeyed. Hoping you’d get under his skin just as much, you looked back at him just as sternly and gave your response, 

“I’d love to see what could possibly stop me from leaving this shitshow you and him love calling a home.” you said turning to leave before stopping in your tracks once more, 

“Oh and believe me I know the big guy won’t let me go down there till he decides to drag you down to hell too.” you said scrunching your face up in disgust while Yoongi only scoffed as you finally made your way up the stairs. 

Watching a maid scurry out of one of the rooms on the second floor adjusting her apron and wiping her smudged lipstick you simply nodded before opening the sanctuary door leaving her frozen on the other side of the corridor.

 As you closed the door behind you the nostalgic scent filled your nose as your mind drifted to all the memories the same room held. All the times he’d sneak through the now patched window and greet you with a passionate kiss all to stop you from scolding him over him sneaking in again as well as show his love for you. Or the times he’d bring something new for you two to “try” together knowing very well he was quite the expert and just wanted to teach you which was his way of showing his love. Helping you through things even if they were as silly as making crocheted bunnies.

What you loved most was the chemistry you two shared, the togetherness between you two even when not together, how you would always have him in mind and he would you too. When together whether in silence or in chaos there was always comfort and a loving aura that beamed when you two were together and the satisfaction that always came when everyone else around you both would notice it. Blinking out of your trance the blooming peace lily that you kept next to the shiny necklace with a blade that was the center of the design caught your eye and had you remembering you needed to water the plant. Although your drowsiness threatened to take over you reluctantly found a spray bottle and spritzed the plant as mist fell onto it. You couldn’t afford to let this plant die or any of them for that matter knowing that the guilt of letting him die already weighed down on your everyday life. The least you could do was keep him in your thoughts even though you couldn’t help but think even that was shameless and selfish of you. Knowing you didn’t deserve him after everything that had happened but the fact that you knew you’d always be too selfish to let him go always fed into your guilt. 

Flopping onto the cold bed you let out a sigh rolling over to watch the moonlight that seeped through the sanctuary from the patched window. Drifting off to sleep you curled up becoming slightly overwhelmed at the thought of him being right next to you. Imagining the way you’d lay your head on his chest listening to the calming beat of his heart and how his soft hand that laid on your lower back would slowly pull you closer and closer to his warm body. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Laughter erupting from the 1st level caused you to groan as you suddenly woke up sprawled out lazily on your bed. Rubbing your eyes, your mood had already turned slightly sour knowing that everyone you despised was downstairs going on with their daily “business”. Feeling around the nightstand for your phone you ultimately gave up almost falling out of the bed. 

“Look at you waking up at a decent time in the morning.” Yoongi teased once again leaning on the door of the sanctuary. Eyes still more shut than open, you stood up to rush over to the door almost falling down as the room started to spin and seeing too many colors of the rainbow. Yoongi, watching you almost fall knitted his eyebrows seeing you barely catch yourself. 

“You're not taking your pills again are you? They can’t be that hard to swallow.” Yoongi said, watching you sharply. Grabbing a hold of your head you tried pacing yourself as you walked slowly over to the elder. 

“I’m not taking those shit filled pills.” You barked low still trying to take in your surroundings. 

“Those shit filled pills are what keep you from walking like a drunkard. You barely eat either which just makes things worse.” He said mostly to himself, straightening his stance at the door. Finally facing the elder you watched the concern plastered on his face that made your blood boil. 

“Does taking a pill really affect anything going on down there?”

“Y/N-” 

“You could probably sell those pills if you're looking for consumers so much.” You taunted turning on your heel. Clearing his throat the boy begin to speak again, 

“Anyways I came here to revisit what we talked about yesterday. If you wanna leave the house, fine by me but with guards.” He spoke in that soft but stern voice most common with you nowadays. To that you chuckled, shaking your head as his eyebrows furrowed again. 

“Y/N I’m serious it's not saf-” 

“And I seriously don’t care.” You said roughly cutting off the elder who huffed loudly showing his frustration.

“God what would you do anyways lock me up in this chicken coop?” You continued laughing at your own scenarios. Walking up to the boy he stepped back now outside of the sanctuary as you gripped the door. 

“Oh and don't forget the windows wouldn’t want me to get out now would we?” Letting your laughter settle as you let the door shut in Yoongi’s face. Leaving the boy in shock he crossed his arms now lost in deep thought until he was interrupted by calls from the 1st level. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You had never regretted bullshitting the way you did this morning more than ever. In your defense you didn’t think he’d actually follow through with your jokes, you were just teasing. But here you were now staring at the wooden planks that were nailed to the windows on the 1st level and the door that was locked from the outside with a different pin. 

“Damn windows.” You murmured as one of the two guards sitting on the couches walked up to you. 

“Ms. Y/N is there anywhere you would like to go, we would be glad to accompany you.” He offered a little too enthusiastic for your liking yet you felt slight guilt for insulting him the day prior. 

“No that would be quite all right thank you, Yoongi does have some interesting ways of showing lessons. I'll just have to find some interesting solutions.” You said smiling widely up at the guard who laughed nervously scratching his nape as he looked back to the other guard. Letting his nervousness be your queue to leave you turned, letting that fake smile of yours drop as you headed up to the sanctuary. 

Finding a way to leave the house wouldn’t be easy knowing how stubborn and calculated the elder was but it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle. Walking back down you begged for the two guards to buy you some made up feminine product from the stores and as they left you cursed in frustration not seeing the pin. Huffing you now walked back and forth amongst the windows that were nailed shut. Knowing there wouldn’t be anything you could do, you again walked up to the sanctuary slamming the door. Your eyes landed on the patched window as your thoughts began to run. Examining the window and looking down at the low and freshly cut grass you smiled, 

“You fucking lunatic.” You said to yourself as you opened the rusty window resting your foot on the bottom. Wanting to chicken out judging by the fact you’d be jumping from the second floor you heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

 You were now right outside the sanctuary standing on the ledge as you stared in closing the patched window. Staring at the green grass knowing those two idiots would come up any second you closed your eyes and jumped. Your body hitting the grass with a thud you rolled straight into the green bushes as you repeatedly cursed. Spitting the grass out of your mouth you groaned getting up and out of the bushes. Walking against the house you watched the two men bicker as they walked towards the house. 

“How was I supposed to know what a coochie controller was? I even asked around and just got weird looks that one lady slapped me with her bag!” The guard whined as you stifled your laughter nearing the front of the house. 

Waiting for them to enter the house you jumped the black gates and rested your head against the gates breathing heavily. Looking around you just to be safe seeing the road seemed pretty empty you shoved your hands in your loose pockets and skipped along the streets disappearing into the busy city. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The old man hummed an old korean trot as he dusted down the tables and benches outside the corner store. Not many customers on the sunny sunday as school students were the most popular but some would still come and go. Walking around the streets in a haze you almost flinched when you saw the old man as you walked with your head down not wanting to converse yet again. 

Of course he just had to use his old instincts because once you tried walking away he called from behind. 

“Y/N-ie is that you?” He said, watching your figure from behind with wide eyes. Thinking that you could keep walking was quite the tempting option but you sighed turning to face the old man with a smile. 

“Yes it’s me Mr. Li, I didn't see you there.” You said politely grinning as you took in the old man’s features. How his old age somehow enhanced the softness that was always on his face even from when you were younger. He smiled back, setting the rag on the bench as you walked closer to the shop. 

“It better have been that, thought you were ignoring me.” He said smirking lightly as the guilt settled in your smile thinned as you questioned, 

“Mr. Li why would you think that?” eyebrows knitted as he chuckled softly. 

“You know I haven’t seen you in awhile Y/N-ie and stop calling me Mr.Li before I call you Bubbles again.” He said pouting as you almost choked hearing that ridiculous nickname that you just couldn’t escape. 

“Yah Lili let’s be mature you know it was a one time thing.” You said biting your cheek refusing to look at the old man as he erupted with laughter. 

“The puddle of soaps you slipped in cause you wanted to perfect your science volcano caused me a lot of money brat. Poor Yoongi got a head full of glittery soap too.” 

Looking back at your youngerself’s desire to be good at everything you shook your head trying not to cringe too much. 

“How is Yoongi? I don't see too much of him these days either, especially after you forced him to stop walking you down here. “ He smiled at the fond memories he had of your loving older brother who was just a little too overprotective. You replied dryly with a simple “He’s good” half lying your way through the question. 

“Ah and Minho how is he you two still together you know that boy was always my favorite he was so modest and kin-” 

“He moved away last year; he wasn't well and had to move to the States.” you cut Mr.Li off not wanting to stay on the topic of him too long before you cried in front of the old man. His gaze softened seeing how your whole demeanor had changed. Meeting his gaze you saw his expression, the pity in his eyes and how silent he was and you immediately regretted even coming here.  

“I'm sorry I hope he’s doing better I know how much you loved that boy-” 

“Halbeoji, the suppliers aren’t here. It's past 12 and we can always reschedule.” The familiar raven haired boy said coming out of the store facing the old man. 

“Jungkook-ah you're not going to that race, if that's your plan you’ll be waiting right here until they come. Yah and what did I tell you about interrupting conversations.” The old man scolded as the boy pouted looking over to find you standing watching him with bored eyes. He huffed, bowing as he muttered an apology to you that the old man slapped the back of his head for.

“Aish whenever you come here your manners always leave now don’t they. Y/N-ie this is my grandson Jungkook.” He said, pushing the boy's head down making him bow lightly while you nodded. 

“Old man Li-” 

“Ah ok sorry Jungkook this is Y/N a friend you could say, better Y/N-ie?” He said facing you with a cheeky smile as you bit your cheek, arms crossed as you burned with embarrassment. 

Jungkook raised his head now facing you observing the contrast from the first time you two had met as he greeted you, 

“Y/N it's nice to meet you even if it is the second time.” He said trying to ease your embarrassment to which he was met with a slight nod from you. The old man watched you both as he spoke now facing his grandson, 

“Yah what are you still doing here go wait for those suppliers before I ship you back to your mother.” He threatened lightly as the boy groaned at his grandfather who shook his head. Before going back inside the boy gave you a small bow that you returned with a nod before walking back inside. 

“That delinquent.” Old man Li muttered and smiled as he looked back at you before breaking into a coughing fit. Your faint smile dropped again as you watched with your eyebrows furrowed offering to get him water. 

“No no ah it's just my age I’d probably choke on the water if I did take it.” He tried to joke as you grew more concerned. 

“Y/N-ie don’t look at me like that I'm fine.” He smiled brightly, his heart melting knowing you were concerned even if you tried not to show it. 

“Go to the doctor I’ll take if you don’t go. I'm warning you, you're old but you're so careless. Who’ll run the corner store if you don't hm?” You let out surprised you talked so informally while the elder walked up embracing you as you stood frozen. 

“Y/N I'm fine, don't stress over an old man like me, I’ll go to the doctor if it’ll make you happy, ok?” he said, still smiling so brightly and you only wondered how he did it all the time. 

Releasing you from the warm hug he walked in the store only to quickly come out with a bag of snacks that made you want to deny but he shoved the bag in your hands. Finally on your way back to the house you felt lighter, a way you hadn’t felt in a while. Not too surprised the old man always had a way with people from his smile to his way with words you were always jealous of.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“How did she even leave the house with you two still here?” Yoongi barked from the first level as the two guards hung their heads down. 

“Sir she wanted a product from the store and so we went ahead to buy the product.” One of the guards explained tripping on his words as he went on. 

“What product?” Yoongi questioned looking over at the other guard who raised his head only to put it back down shaking it. 

“Well- it was a feminine product that Ms. Y/N wanted-” 

“What product was all I asked for?” Yoongi cut off the guard, growing impatient as the man sighed, bracing himself for Yoongi’s response.

“It was a um a well a co-” 

“Coochie controller?” Your voice rang through the 1st level as you skipped downstairs. The man nodded and placed his head back down as Yoongi gritted his teeth. Watching as you grinned widely he dismissed the two guards with a “we’ll figure you two out later.” 

“These are very sturdy aren’t they who put them up.” You questioned playing with one of the planks that covered the windows. 

“So I try to compromise with you for your safety and you go ahead and trick other people and leave the house without telling anyone?!” He roared and you could feel his narrowed eyes burning in the back of your head. You turned slowly looking back at the elder who was running his hand through his black locks. 

“The compromise didn’t fit my interest so why would I abide, and it's not trickery if they don’t have the mental capacity to think on their own.” You said calmly but your nonchalant persona only made Yoongi more angry with you. 

“How did you leave?” Yoongi asked, seeming a little calmer than before. 

“A magician never reveals their secrets but I’ll be willing to negotiate if it sparks my interest.” You pushed watching the elder rubbing his eyebrows in frustration. 

“What exactly would that compromise be Y/N.” 

“Well Yoongi, maybe we could start small like planks on the windows!” You suggested sarcastically as the boy only shook his head. 

“Fine they aren’t so hard to take down anyways so how’d you get out?” He questioned listening carefully waiting for your response. Walking up to the boy and passing him as you made your way up the stairs you replied, 

“A magician never reveals their secrets Yoongi,” you paused as Yoongi called your name in frustration.

“But, you might as well change the pin back to the first one; those guards are quite gullible.” you lied making your way up to the sanctuary. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You sat on the fresh green grass gazing at the summer sky humming to the tune of the song you and Minho had just learned on guitar. Blushing simply thinking of the silly boy you dusted your white flowery dress making your way back into the house. As you made your way back up to your room you heard a faint crash come from the basement. Puzzled, you walked down, going closer and closer  to the noise. 

“HELP! HELP.” The awfully familiar voice yelled from one of the rooms on the farther side of the basement. You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you slowly made your way towards the door. You sighed, taking a deep breath before opening the door knowing it wouldn’t be anything good on the other side. Tied against a chair in a dull green room you could barely make out who was struggling to get out. Though they suddenly stopped looking up to see who it was that opened the door. In shock yourself all you wanted to do was vomit seeing him in this state. A bloody red nose, busted lip and swollen eyes but you’d recognize him in any state. 

“M-Minho!” You practically screeched running over to him cupping his face in your hands. 

“What happened what’s going on who did this to you how did this happ-” 

“Y/N you need to leave now it’s not safe I’m fine.” Minho said cutting you off from all the frantic questions you were asking. 

“No you need medical attention, we can leave, I can get you out of here.” You suggested as the worry started to overtake you, you worked on untying his hands as he struggled trying to reason the situation out with you. 

“Minho tell me who did this even if I can’t help, I'll have Yoongi take care of it.” You pleaded as Minho rapidly shook his head, not even making eye-contact with you. 

“If you don’t want to tell me then let’s leave your injuries, you need treatment and-“ You decided to grab his arm to lead him out of the dark room. 

“Y/n, stop.” You cut you off once again now looking you directly in the eyes and you just knew something had gone terribly wrong. As he pulled his hand away you held onto him tightly as he struggled to get away from your grip. 

“Y/n get away from him.” Yoongi called from the door leaving you to sigh in relief as Minho frantically pulled his arm away from you.  Looking back at Minho you saw the way he gulped at Yoongi who stared him down with his dark narrowed orbs. 

“Yoon help his injuries are getting worse and worse and I don’t know who locked him up in this room but we need to get out.” You said out of breath letting your thoughts just come out.

“Well this makes getting rid of him ten times easier.” Yoongi muttered getting closer to you and Minho keeping his eyes on Minho. Watching Yoongi pull the firearm out of his pocket you watched in confusion not knowing what your brother’s next move would be and that scared you. 

“Y-Yoon what are you doing?”

“My job Y/n-ie now you need to go upstairs okay it’s much safer up there for you then here.” Yoongi said calmly, nearing you patting your head softly as you shook your head disobeying his request. 

“No, no no Y-Y/n please you need to go upstairs it-“

“No I’m not leaving you unless you come up with me and I’m going to find out what happened.” You said grabbing a hold of Minho’s arm trying to pull him along towards the door when Yoongi stopped your motion shoving Minho to the ground. Near the boy you watched Yoongi pull the firearm aiming it at the boy when you pounced in front of the fire-arm as Yoongi yelled at your recklessness. 

“You're not going to kill him, you can't, he's the only one Yoon stop this he didn’t do anything!” You tried pleading with the elder who only scoffed yelling for you to move out of the way while you only held onto Minho tighter trying to shield him with your whole body. 

“Y/N MOVE AWAY FROM HIM NOW!” Yoongi barked, grabbing the side pistol he had tucked under his shirt leaving you and Minho to gasp as he pointed the gun straight at Minho. 

“YOONGI PUT IT DOWN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You screeched as he stepped closer to you both keeping his gaze specifically on Minho. 

“Y/n I’m only going to repeat myself one more time, go upstairs you don’t have any business in this.” Yoongi said, still glaring at Minho who laid there as well in complete silence. 

“No I’m no-“ 

Your words were cut off by Yoongi who shoved you off of the boy now standing right above him and in front of you. You watched in complete silence as he cocked the gun back aiming it down at the boy. Hearing the gunshot you sat frozen as you let the first shot ring through your ear ignoring the other two that came after. Letting the third shot free you from the shock you pathetically crawled over to Minho who laid limp in a sea of blood. 

“Mi-Min hey it’s me I - I got you the hospital I-isn’t far we still have time l-let’s go ok?” You babbled on as the shock of it all really started kicking as you saw your hands, his waist, the floor, and your white dress all covered in his blood. 

“Y/n stop-

“N-no it’s fine really I can drive or we can get one of the better drivers as long as we ask nicely we should be fi-“ 

“Y/N stop it.” Minho cut you off going into a sudden coughing fit as you watched him cough up heaps of blood you swallowed still not wanting to accept the situation. 

“What went wrong things were g-going to be so nice today for me and you it was going to be lovely don’t you think?” He said in almost a whisper as you nodded slowly as you were thinking about just the same thing and how guilty you felt now. Your thoughts were interrupted by the boy’s chuckling, your eyebrows knitted as you watched him run his hand down his waist passing his hand up and down the pool of blood. 

“Do you see all of this Y/n?” The boy questioned keeping his gaze on his bloody hand to which you nodded slowly yet confused. 

“Maybe if I hadn’t come today this wouldn’t have happened, don't you wonder about that?” He asked again and you only responded with a nod not quite following his thinking he then grabbed your face running his red hand over your cheek with a look you couldn’t (didn’t want to) described. 

“If I hadn’t come here for you none of this would have happened you understand that too don’t you Y/n?” You gulped hearing the way he called your name with such disgust in it. 

“B-but Min it wasn’t like you knew it was going to happen.” You tried to reason as he shook his head the more you went on. 

“I’m bleeding here in this cold, dull room because of you, I’m on my death bed because of you, I can’t go home to my sister  and the rest of my family because of you.” He spoke fast, getting louder and louder while you only shook your head trying to get your wrist out of his grip. 

“Min it wasn’t me I didn’t know anything about this, I-I would never hurt you I love you.” You let out sounding so small and weak as he only held on tighter dragging you closer to him. 

“You don’t kill the people you love Y/n-“

“No, no I didn’t do this Min I didn’t know I would never!” You screamed, shaking your head violently as he chanted the word murderer repeatedly. 

“NO!” You screamed as you almost jumped out of the bed, hyperventilating you locked eyes with the necklace that laid near the peace lily you had watered earlier. Still breathing hard you got up from the bed, grabbed the necklace and rushed into the bathroom. 

Staring at the necklace your thoughts, those thoughts started to fight and you knew you would lose but it wasn’t that you didn’t try to fight back. You always did but your fighting was never good enough, you were pathetically weak. Scrunching up the necklace so that only the accented part stuck out you rolled up your sleeves running your fingers across the warm flesh. Letting out a deep sigh you lined the small blade up as you thought back to what you just dreamed about, think about Minho gripping your wrist and holding it up. Running your hand up and down you bit down on your lip as you now let the blade run along your wrist. Letting the blood drip it soothed you in a way hoping even maybe that you reprimanding yourself would free you of your guilt and the anger of the past. Except, it never did, it wasn’t like you didn’t know things would end up like this every time but ignorance was so much sweeter than believing the truth. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror those tired and dark eye bags that painted your face or your puffy nose and the pool of tears that accompanied them you saw how pathetic and helpless you looked. How it disgusted you and made you despise yourself even more than you thought to originally be possible. For some reason you laughed watching your face seeing how weak you look but as you looked down at the blood flowing out of your arms the laughter stopped and the pain started to take over. It was always like this. It's only fun for a minute, sometimes that minutes is longer but rarely is that the case and then the minute is over and you're left looking at the blood covering you and your sanctuary. The regret sinking in as you started breathing too fast running out of the room rushing over to your drawers. Throwing the contents on the shelves and in the drawers out frantically you looked for the ointments that were nowhere to be found until you looked over to the garbage can near your desk. Emptied and buried under white sheets of paper. Your breathing only got quicker and heavier as you rushed into the bathroom and just as quickly out being met with the blood in there as well. 

Rushing down the stairs as quietly as possible you hurried over to the front door not even taking the thought of guards being near as you punched in the old pin praying Yoongi had fallen for your lies. A red error sign appeared on the tiny screen as you cursed your luck rushing back up the stairs. 

“Think, think, think.” You said pacing around the sanctuary when you looked out of the patched window. Sighing you opened the window looking down at the same old low grass and the tall bushes you cringed jumping down. Rolling into the bushes you harshly shaked and groaned at the impact that felt a hundred times worse because of your current bleeding. Limping towards the front of the house you scanned for any guards before making your way over to the black gate. 

Today of all days might have been the worst day for you to have that nightmare, for you to let your thoughts swallow you and to be impulsive at 11 o’clock at night. Thinking about all of Yoongi’s ways to scare you and make you stay at home, you thought about the stories he told you about him having business after 12. Jogging as fast as you could, you made your way to the corner store even though you probably shouldn’t have because all of your energy was drained and it made the bleeding worse. Feeling the blood hug your baggy clothes you cringed before limping into the corner store. 

“Sorry were closin-“ The raven haired boy stopped in his tracks looking up to see you limping into the store. Getting up from his chair and throwing the car magazine he was reading to the side he walked around looking at you with knitted eyebrows. 

“Y/n are you okay, is there anything I can get you?” He questioned as you tried to avoid speaking to him as you made your way over to an aisle. Looking around you were getting more agitated as your drowsiness and low energy fought to take over. 

“You look a little out of it, it’s fine I can get you what you need and-“

“Jungkook I don’t need your hel-'' Curse your low iron because once you turned to face the boy the room just had to start spinning causing you to fall backwards. Awaiting your impact with the floor Jungkook had moved swiftly and caught you holding your back and wrist firmly. 

“Easy, you're okay.” He said as he brought you up to stand watching you take in your surroundings again. Looking now at your wrist he frowned as he watched the blood trickle through the fabric and down to your hand. 

“Y/n you're bleeding?” He stated yet confused of course of the how when you pulled your wrist away beginning to limp again down the aisle. 

“It’s in your other arm too I can treat them for you-“

“I already told you, I don’t need your help Jungkook-“

“I don’t care about how or why you're bleeding because it’s none of my business and I can respect your privacy but you are bleeding in my store after hours which is something my grandpa would definitely kill me for. He seems to take a liking to so let’s do each other a solid?” The boy said as he walked up to you staring down at you with a faint smile. You scoffed walking out of the store only to stop and sit at one of the tables leaving Jungkook to only watch. 

“Are you going to stop my bleeding or what?” You asked, growing impatient as the boy nodded, disappearing into one of the aisles to get what he would need. Quickly walking out with the needed materials he sat down across you laying them on the table. Gesturing for you to bring your arm you held on to your sleeve looking down before rolling up your sleeve and extending it to him. HIs gaze softened taking in the different scars that painted your arm in silence as you only looked away, taking away your arm rolling down the sleeve. 

“Hey it’s ok don’t worry about it.” Jungkook said, holding out his hand waiting for your arm as you rolled your sleeve back up, extending your arm to him once again. Dipping the cloth into the ointment you looked at the brands that were foreign to you and wondered if they would hurt as much as the ones you normally used. 

“Grandpa always used this ointment when I was little. He says it’s the best of the best.”  Jungkook smiled, beginning to imitate his grandpa’s raspy voice. As he applied the ointment you winced in pain feeling the cold cloth hit your skin. Jungkook uttered soft “im sorrys” as he continued to dab the ointment over your cuts. With not much to do in the unwanted situation you paid attention to how focused and cautious he was applying the ointments. Thinking back to the first time you met the boy and how strange it is whenever you two run into each other, how you’re somehow always in need of help. 

“Aaand done.” He said after passing the cloth against the last bloody cut which also stopped your thinking. 

“Oh,” Jungkook said, turning over to his left rummaging through the box stifling his laughter before showing a selection of band-aids to you. You rolled your eyes looking at the different kiddy-like designs the boy laid out for you to pick from. 

“I personally would take the Hello kitty one. She's quite popular nowadays.” The boy teased as you glared at him getting ready to leave when he took a hold of the tips of your fingers causing you to stop. 

“They aren’t necessary, it's a waste of time and money.” You muttered pulling your fingers back when he moved to the end of the seat and closer to where you were standing. 

“Just this once they’ll heal twice as fast. Please?” He almost begged looking up into your eyes as his dark orbs twinkled with some sort of innocence or in the way he held onto the tiny packs. Sighing you skimmed at the options and tapped on the spider man covered band-aids taking a seat once again. 

“Quiet the fitting choice for a tough cookie huh?” He teased again, smiling brightly to counter the narrowing of your eyes towards him. 

“Ok champ your all set.” The boy grinned letting go of your arm again now leaving you to roll your sleeves down as he walked back into the store. Nodding and shoving your hands into your pockets you  turned facing the dark road. Before you had the chance to leave you were again stopped by the boy who called out your name while hurrying out of the shop causing you to sigh again as your drowsiness was at its peak. 

Holding a small black bag to you, you looked down and back up letting your eyebrows show your confusion. 

“Uh ointments just in case you need any.” He said scratching his nape with his free hand as you stood there feeling your pockets for any money when you were interrupted by the boy who took your hand softly and placed the black bag in your hand. Looking up at him to meet his dark orbs silence rung through the area leaving you both to just look back at each other. 

“Right it’s pretty late, you should get home soon and safely.” He said letting go of your hand only to find the back of his neck again. Nodding your head slowly you shoved your hand back into your pocket turning to leave when you turned back to the boy giving him a small bow. Shaking his head slowly the boy waved walking back into the store after collecting the contents left on the table. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

After sneaking through the black gates and practically rock climbing the side of the house to land back into the sanctuary you let out a heavy sigh. Changing out of the stained sweater and into a fresh hoodie and shorts you noticed that the spider-man band-aid had peeled off probably when you took the sweater off. Grabbing the black bag you walked into the bathroom looking over to the mirror. Finding much more than ointments in the bag you bit your cheek looking at the hello kitty band-aids Jungkook threw in the bag. Opening the package you peeled the band-aid covering off and laid it where the Spider-Man band-aid previously was. 

・❥・

Chapter 3

Author's Note➹: Hope chapter 2 is feeling much more lengthy and carries the volume I intended but here she is! I want to thank you guys for all the love and support you guys have been giving the series when it’s just gotten started. There was a slight delay with releasing chapter 2, so I ended up having to move the release day to Friday, but I hope the chapter was worth the wait. As always, any suggestions or ideas you guys have for the series or any future fics you want to read my asks are always open as well as comments! Let me know your hot takes on chapter 2 in the comments and I’ll see you guys in chapter 3!  - ♡ Vynnie

#jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #unrequited love #bts #bts fanfic #bts mafia #jungkook au #min yoongi #slow burn #bangtan #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jjk x y/n #enemies to lovers #fluff #dont fall in love #friends to lovers #chapter 2 #romance

[clockworkrosea]

911, what’s your emergency? | series masterlist

→ summary: your rise and fall as the korean national police agency’s best investigator, and the role that 8 people play in it. as they say, the higher you rise, the harder you fall. 

→ pairings: jeon jungkook/you, kim namjoon/oc

→ series warnings: mentions of blood, death, murder, torture, the mafia, explosions, the works. 

→ genre: heavy angst, hurt/no comfort?, mafia au, second person pov, slow burn, enemies to lovers

→ a/n: we run it back!! i’m not really into bts anymore but i really do love the premise of this story and i wanted to rewrite some of it now that i have more time (a lie) and more experience (a truth) under my belt. it holds the same core premise but storylines are actually planned out and it’s going to be second person (no y/n, basically). hope u like :) 

i. no angels left to save. 

  → you’ve fought long and hard, but that doesn’t make you any better than the rest. 

ii. leave nothing to chance. 

  → and thus, you begin your investigation into the kingpins of the korean underground.

iii. in the eye of the storm. 

  → an explosive encounter marks the first confrontation.

iv. if these walls could talk. 

  → in the silence, the ghosts of the past return to haunt you.

v. let the choir bells ring. 

  → the city lights up purple as police sirens ring through korea. 

vi. girls talk and criminals walk.

  → you can't pass up the chance to meet with the most dangerous woman in korea.

vii. know what you follow.

  → the blowback of yesterday's events come quickly.

viii. now you see me.

  → you catch wind of plans for the heist of the century.

ix. paid good money.

  → the underground's entertainment scene roars with new life.

x. mo cuishle.

  → a failed sting operation brings you back to your roots, whether you want it or not.

to be cont. 

#mafia au #mafia bts #jeon jungkook x reader #kim namjoon x oc #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #park jimin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook angst #bts angst #angst #enemies to lovers #e2l #slow burn #so slow #bts #bts fanfiction

[jboofan]

There's something wrong with Manager Kim YN Part 27

I know everything

Yoongi's phone rang. "YN.." he couldn't help but find himself smiling as he thought of her.

"YN?" he answered the phone, fumbling for his phone as he pulled up to her new home.

"Yoongi, are you nearly here?"

He jumped out the car as soon as he hit the brakes, not bothering to lock it, worried as he ran up to the front door.

The door opened as soon as he used the knocker and YN stood there waiting for him.

He couldn't help the lump in his throat forming as he remembered how it would feel to come home to YN, but now it was Jackson she came home to.

"Are you okay? Is Ari okay?" he found himself worrying about that little girl.

"No we're not. Thanks for coming so quickly."

"Um, sure, it's okay. Do you need to go somewhere?"

"Can we stay here? Ari is asleep and I can't leave her."

"Of course, how stupid of me," he felt dumb trying to get her to leave the house. "Where's Jackson?"

He wished he hadn't knocked on the door so loudly now.

"Shh" she said as she motioned for him to enter. "She's sleeping."

"Sorry." He bit his tongue and shut the door after himself. She looked uneasy. 

"Is everything OK?" he worried and she was being cryptic.

"You tell me, I just want to know why you said no. I don't get it. And I was very surprised by your reply, it was cold and heartless."

Yoongi looked at her, how annoyed she looked standing there, arms folded with a raised eyebrow.

"Ok can you explain what you're talking about please? I still don't get why you had a go at me at the office before and I've never tried to be cold or heartless."

YN looked at him, eyebrow still raised, still waiting for an explanation. "Are you for real right now?"

"Yeah I am," he chuckled, "What is going on?" He removed his cap and shook out his dark hair.

"I called you when I landed in LA and I texted you and you told me to do what I wanted?" she looked at him. "I find it hard to believe, and then you act normal when you see us?"

YN took her phone off the table and scanned her messages.

"Three years ago Yoongi, you might have forgotten but I didn't. That night I texted you saying we need to talk. I then called you and you didn't pick up. I then left you messages explaining everything and you are telling me you have NO idea what I'm talking about?"

YN looked at him. "You've got no idea what I'm talking about do you? Are you telling the truth?"

He shook his head at her. "Do I get a clue or somethin'?"

"Shit." She rubbed her head.

"Sweetheart, you wanna let me in on the secret, cos I'm dying to know what I've done wrong?"

Yoongi's hand instinctively rose to touch hers as it rubbed her temple.

YN moved away, opened the french doors out onto the lawn, Yoongi following her. He sat down, but she preferred to stand.

"Two weeks after I went home I found out I was pregnant. I messaged you, told you I'm pregnant and you told me to stick it. I gave birth and stayed in the States. Ari is your daughter Yoongi."

Yoongi stared at her.

"Yoongi?"

He looked like the light was on, but no one was home.

"Yoongo Bongo?" She waved her hand in his face.

Yoongi grabbed her wrist, yanking her hard, pulling her into his lap.

Still holding her waist he positioned the phone screen in front of him, eyes scanning over the words; the time stamp.

He was asleep at the time, he remembered drinking his sorrows away in a bar, sad, depressed and crying. Somehow he made it home, and Ha-Na was there in the morning telling him they'd slept together and she supported him. But he didn't have his phone next to him. It was Ha-Na, his phone was next to her the whole night. He didn't let her stay over ever again after that. It can't have been a coincidence. I don't believe in those.

Yoongi turned her till she was facing him, struggling out of his grip.

"When is her birthday?" How old is she?"

She was getting pissed off now.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" she slapped his arm hard, pulling away. "Have I lied to you?"

"You not telling me who you really were, that you are Jin's sister. You lied about," he tried to swallow but couldn't, "you said we would be married a year."

I thought I had at least a year with you.

"Well I'm not lying now. It gives me nothing to say that she's yours. But she is. She is 3 years old Yoongi. She was born 9 months after we slept together."

"But Ha-Na, my phone, the last few years," he was no longer looking at YN but simply talking to himself, trying to mumble his way through it all.

He couldn't take this in. He had to speak to Ha-Na.

"I have to speak to Ha-Na."

YN sighed and looked out into the distance, disappointed. Of course he would want to discuss it with her, his girlfriend, the love of his life.

"Um, does she know who I am?" he asked, dry mouthed. YN shook her head.

"So what have you told her? That her Dad doesn't love her?" he was getting angry.

"Don't get angry at me! I did what I needed to do for me and my daughter. Don't act like you all of a sudden love her," she shouted back, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Don't you dare stand there and fucking judge me!"

Jackson knocked on the open door, YN looked at him apologetic, realising they were speaking too loudly. He spotted Yoongi standing there.

"Am I interrupting something?" he looked at YN to check if she was okay, who shook her head.

Yoongi squared up to him, who didn't seem to back down either.

"So you knew all along, and have been playing happy families with my daughter?" he pushed Jackson.

Jackson pushed him back.

"You need to back up Yoongi before you get hurt. You turned around and said you wanted no part in bringing her up. What kind of a man are you? What kind of a father are you?"

Yoongi looked furious. "What the fuck are you talking about? Is that why you got her thinking you're her Dad?" he looked across at YN. "So that's what's going on, you leave me and you shack up with Jackson and got my kid calling him Dad?" 

"Jackson is Ari's God Father you asshole. She calls him God-daddy because ironically she can't pronounce father."

She stared at him. "And you don't get to say anything to Jackson, he has done nothing but be supportive. You sure as hell don't get the chance to stand there and point fingers at me as to how I'm bringing up my daughter."

Jackson pushed him back. "I've been willing to step up and be her support, and I have done that as her Godfather.. YN is one of my closest friends, I wasn't going to leave her high and dry! And I've never given Ari the chance to feel she never had a strong and reliable father figure in her life; and I ain't gonna stop now just because you keep changing your mind."

"Stop this!" she tried to reason, getting between Yoongi and Jackson as she showed him the response she got back from his phone.

Yoongi shook his head, "YN I swear I didn't send that. If I'd known what you said, I would have spoken to you face to face, not send you a text to tell you no. That's my flesh and blood. I would have tried harder to keep you both."

No one heard the lounge door open.

"Mama?" she stood in the doorway. An angry Yoongi and Jackson turned to look at her, in surprise.

"Hey hunny," she scooped her up, moving her away from the scene. "Sorry sweetheart, did we wake you?" Ari rubbed her eyes. 

"I think you guys need to cool down," YN looked at them. Jackson left, which left Yoongi standing there.

Yoongi combed his hair back, and nervously smiled at her. She looked completely like YN, this beautiful little thing was meant to be my daughter?

"Sweetheart, do you remember Yoongi from before? He works with me."

Ari looked at him blankly trying to remember who he was. YN cleared her throat.

"Maybe you should think about what you want to do, and then let me know. Let me just put her to bed first."

**

Yoongi paced the room blankly waiting for her to return, replaying her words again and again until she walked back through the living room,and closed the door behind her.

She looked up, rubbing her neck from the stress.

"Who else knows?"

"I hoped you would have just left," she mumbled, he sure was nimble even in the too small for him slippers as he got to her in seconds, pinning her against the table.

"Really, you have the audacity to pin me to the table? Is that supposed to make me bat my eyelids at you?"

"What do you want from me sweetheart?" he asked her honestly.

"Yoongi move please," turning her head to the side to not look at him.

"No," he pushed his hips closer to hers, seeking her chin with the side of his jaw.

"Me? Nothing. I'm letting you know there is another life out there that you are partly responsible for," she gave him a dose of reality and he backed off, "you can either step up," she closed the French doors, "or step aside. Your choice, sweetheart."

"You're gonna wish you never left me," he shot her with a serious look.

"Please, you think I'm gonna make the same mistake twice? Bang YN is no one's fool. Besides," she confidently walked over to him. Stood so close he was beginning to lose his cool.

She smiled as he swallowed difficultly.

"I did what I had to do. What makes you think I need you? I don't go for sloppy seconds. Ha-Na? She's just a poor man's YN. Not the other way round..."

"We'll see about that," he threatened. "Let's see how long you can last without me."

How could she stand there, not an ounce of guilt for leaving my heart for dead?

"I did three years without you, what makes you think I can't do another thirty?" she raised an eyebrow, a confident smirk on her face.

"I'm going nowhere."

"All the guys say that. I'm not having this weird argument with you. See yourself out."

"Carefull YN, you're going to bring the demon out.." he snarled on exit.

"All talk."

YN crumbled to the floor as soon as she heard the front door close, clutching her chest as her heart beat out her ribs.

"God why did I come back.."

**

"And where have you been? You ran out the door so damn fast you didn't tell anyone," Hobi asked as soon as he stalked in a little later after midnight.

"Guys I need to tell you something," he cleared his throat and assembled everyone at the large modular couches to explain where he'd been.

Jimin sat with his mouth open for a couple of minutes.

"Aren't you gonna say anything?" Yoongi asked.

Jimin looked at him. "To be fair, we all kinda knew."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, "this a joke?"

"I wish it was," Jin added, "You had a child with her, but are involved with someone else, didn't step up, and is basically going to watch Jackson bring up you insanely cute daughter as his own.. Yeah, if that ain't an episode off a drama I don't know what is.." he added sarcastically.

Namjoon kissed his teeth and thought deeply before speaking next.

"YN has never badmouthed you, never mentioned you after she went back. We always wondered what went wrong, especially since you guys always looked so, so happy. But whatever happened in Paris, was just a catalyst for change and heartbreak. You're our family, but so is YN," he said conflicted.

"If you choose to not step up, I think that's up to you. We can't make you, but we've spent time with Ari. She's a special little girl who deserves to have a father," Taehyung explained.

Yoongi looked at Jungkook, surprised he didn't say anything yet.

"Jungkook-ah what about you, you not got anything to add?"

Jungkook looked over. "I love Noona. She is caring, funny and loyal. From where I'm sitting, looks like she doesn't really need you to be honest. She has Jackson. We know him and GOT7, we know they are good guys, but from what he has mentioned and what we've seen; she's done fine without you up till now."

He looked at Yoongi's face and smiled, hoping to get a reaction. "And it looks like he's a father to her in everything but name. He's her god father, but he's there for that girl more than you have."

Yoongi looked at them and sighed. Conflicted.

"YN messaged me when she first found out, but Ha-Na deleted the messages and told her that I didn't care. I didn't know, I had no clue until this evening."

He rubbed his hands nervously, "She left me once," he explained, "I don't know what I'd do if YN left me again, and with my little girl."

Jin sighed, putting down the knife he'd been sharpening since Yoongi had run to YNs and approached him slowly.

"This is your chance Yoongi," he pointed the tip of the blade on his direction, "Ha-Na was never any good for you, and we're glad you've left her for good. But you have the chance here, to be happy. To be a Dad! Don't fuck it up. Most people don't get a second chance at happiness. If you can't be there for YN, then at least be there for Ari, Yoongi."

He paused and looked at him, "and if you decide you do want to do the right thing, we will support you. But you fuck up, I swear on my life I will gut you like a fish."

"I do, want to do the right thing. Not have you gut me.. I felt that I had to clarify that," Yoongi watched the knife go back in the drawer carefully, and Jin leaving to go out.

"How about we have a drink boys?" Jimin and Jungkook grinned pulling out the bottles.

"Best thing you've said all day," Yoongi blew out his breath as a bottle made it to his hand.

It wasn't more than a few minutes of walking out the front door, down the driveway to the garbage collection, that YN turned a corner and sensed someone was behind. Calmly she walked, taking in the gravel under her trainers, the feel of a northeast breeze on the small of her back, until she stood still, ears perked, hearing the footsteps behind her also stop. 

The next day, a remorseful and hung over Yoongi would appreciate how she was able to flick up a nearby fallen branch for a makeshift bat.

"Can I get some - hiccup- help?"

YN lowered the branch, crossed her arms and looked at him with such a stare, it reminded him badly of his own mother, a look of patience wearing thin when he would often return home from school, with a new shiner for company.

"What? A big guy like you needs help?"

"I am Yoongi. I'm looking for my wife, but I have forgotten how to get into the house."

He stood up, his cap getting knocked off by a nearby low lying branch, before looking around clueless.

"Yoongi?" she murmured, and then she wanted to laugh. She'd never come across a drunk Yoongi, well not since their wedding night.

He looked so sheepish, embarrassed even as he waited for her to face him, his voice with its gravel tones was definitely, a hundred per cent sure drunk.

"YN," he tried to clear his throat but sounded like an asthmatic animal, "is so loving, so cute. Such a good person."

YN grew uncomfortable at such a sweet speech. "Stop now," she explained, "Let's talk when you're sober, let me call the others.."

"You know," hiccup "she overcame her troubles and took away the dark clouds in my life," he managed with a sad sigh.

He wobbled forward, slowly found his footing on the paved driveway and cleared his throat successfully, before pulling her close and snuggling into her neck.

She caught a heavy whiff of soju and wine. "Careful now. The fall from my pedestal is high and probably fatal. And you need to sober up buddy."

"What buddy? Who the fuck is her buddy," he swung around in a circle until he grew dizzy. "Only I can be her buddy," he mumbled, trying to find her face with a shaky finger poking her dimple like a doorbell. "I find it hard to believe she is really here.. YN? Where are you?" he shouted into the dark night, "the most caring woman I've ever met. She made me feel human."

YN steadied her gaze. "I did?"

"I don't want to screw this up," he sniffed, "I screwed up and she didn't talk to me for so long.." he grew restless trying to walk towards the house unaided.

"Whyyyyyy?????!!" he howled at the sky.

She raised an eyebrow, moving the subject expertly from herself neatly, watching his legs bow as he swayed.

"What did you do wrong?" she couldn't help but ask the drunk man. "Why are you here?"

"I said the wrong thing. Did the wrong thing. Didn't stop her. But I'm not kidding you, I'm gonna fix this."

Yoongi watched her chuckling to herself. 

"I don't think I said anything funny."

"You don't need to. Miserable Min. I know everything!"

"Then you gonna help me or not?" He sullenly replied, knowing that it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that YN had shared much of their past life with this woman in a hoodie that came out her house. What had YN told this woman about him?

"If you know everything, then you will know that I'm not gonna go anywhere, you'll help me?"

She started walking away, and soon a disappointed Jin walked down the path, his cardigan flapping.

"You have to help me! I think I love her!" he called after him as he neared.

Jin stopped mid-step, mouth gasping as he turned to check if YN had heard, but she was too far away to hear anything.

"What did you just say?" he walked slowly towards him, "because it sounded like you said you love her."

"Beyond any doubt, I think I do. So. Will you help me?" he hiccuped, "Jin Hyung?" Yoongi shook his arms, "is that you??"

Jin wasn't listening as he stood there, his mind was already churning out a scenario, and several alternate endings. He saw Yoongi sway again, stood him up straight and went back to thinking.

Yoongi looked down, disappointed at his non-verbal response.

"I'm going inside, you coming?" he called out as Yoongi hurried after him, his voice pinging off the bricks.

The huge grin on his face made Jin chuckle as they walked, Yoongi was eager to explain his thoughts and somehow it felt good to share it with someone else. Someone that wasn't YN, yet was loved and respected by her, and therefore by extension by him.

**

"I need a sparring buddy, and I think you will do," he said pushing a pair of boxing gloves at him as they got to the gym by the garage.

"Oh I wasn't asking, I was telling you," getting into the ring he flexed his broad shoulders and moved menacingly towards him, smacking Yoongi in the stomach without any hesitation before he was ready.

"OK, I don't see how this is going to help me tell her that I love her," Yoongi was slowly sweating himself sober, as he pushed up his gloves as the two of them tapped the other in good sportsmanship, "and you got a hell of a jab on you there."

"I find myself quite suited to the sport," an experienced smile told him, "YN told me how great it feels to beat the shit out of things. She's been sparring with me lately. Helps with our stress."

"Jeez, no wonder you guys are siblings. You're equally nuts."

"I see she fell for your boyish charm," Jin quipped sarcastically, as the two of them circled each other and he threw another jab at him. "Besides, there's three points to this trident. You haven't yet met my niece."

"Ari?"

"You thought YN has sass? I'll let you see that for yourself."

Jin threw a jab, pausing midway as Yoongi dodged him easily, not quite ready for the unseen left uppercut.

"I thought you were gonna help me?"he said falling to the ground.

"The way to her, is to break through her emotionally stunted heart, by declaring you love her and not giving her a choice."

"Not giving her a choice isn't the best thing surely?"

Jin smiled. "You wanted help, I just gave you the answer."

@craftymoonchaos @bbl32 @ireadthensuetheauthors @pb-n-juju @audreonne @larenelizabeth @kyle-told-me-whats-up @alexayoonlee @forvever-ddaeng

#bts jin #bts yoongi #bts jhope #bts namjoon #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts min yoongi #yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x yn #yoongi x yn #suga x yn #min yoongi #bts imagines #yoongi smut #bts smau #bts social media au #suga imagines #enemies to lovers #fake marriage #bts x reader #bts texts #Spotify

[giventae]

If you can't stand him, bend him over

Yoongi hates Jin, Jin hates Yoongi right back, and their friends just want some goddamn peace and quiet

They also want Yoongi and Jin to finally fuck it out already, but that's besides the point

#yoonjin #yoonjin fanfiction #yoonjinfanfic #yoonjin fic #yoonjin smut #yoonjin fluff #yoonjin ao3 #yoonjin academic rivals #yoonjin enemies to lovers #min yoongi #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #top jin #dom jin #jin fluff #jin smut #jin fanfiction #jin fic #yoongi #suga #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bottom yoongi #sub yoongi #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fic #bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut

[sweethartlullaby]

bittersweet blood

word count: 2.5k warnings: swearing, death genre: angst, lovers to enemies, action as always, imagine who you would like sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

Your grip on the sword remained strong despite the raindrops threatening to let it slip through your fingers. The moment was coming but you just wanted to savour it, looking down at your nemesis, on his knees and gasping for air. 

You watched as he struggled, holding onto the large cut sliced across his stomach; his breathing ragged and puffs of air escaping his lips dripping with blood. The grip on your sword only tightened. 

And finally, he looked up.

Your gaze met his and you knew you wanted nothing more than to watch the light leave his eyes. His damn smile crept onto his face slowly and even in the dark, you could make out the blood staining his teeth.

“So, what are you waiting for?”

//

Years ago...

“I just want to protect you!”

“God, you are annoying.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and you felt your stomach drop. 

“And you’re acting like a child!” 

“Yeah, I’m not the one screaming, am I?” He glared at you and your heart froze in your chest before you let out an exasperated chuckle. Your mind went blank, unable to comprehend what was going on anymore. Was it so bad you wanted to keep him close and to yourself just so he wouldn’t hurt himself?

“You know what?” You finally sighed out with a stifling laugh and uneven breathing, trying to keep yourself from crying out.

“You’re right. Go do whatever you want.” You took your car keys from the dining table, where you had prepared dinner for him and it was still steaming with warmth. He sighed with what seemed like frustration as you took your coat and slipped into your shoes. 

“From now on, I won’t care about what you do.” You said as you tied your laces and went to take your purse.

“And one day,” The realization of what you were about to say hit you like a ton of bricks.

“One day, you’re going to be facing death.” You looked at him, tears brimming in your eyes. It pained you to even say it, with images flashing in your mind that you wanted to rid yourself of. 

“And you’re going to remember this day and wish you listened to me.” He chuckled a little and you took it as your sign to leave; walking out of the door and leaving the house you used to call home. 

//

Present time…

“So, what are you waiting for?” He asked and you laughed a little at how bittersweet this ending was going to be. It should be one for the books. 

“Kill me, princess. But make it quick.” He coughed out and you noticed the blood splattering out onto the ground in between you two.

“You don’t get to have a say in how you die. That’s completely up to me.” You placed your sword under his chin and lifted his face, seeing the lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes, wet and messy. 

Looking at his face now, you wished you would feel something but there was nothing there.

“Miss looking at me so much?” You pulled the sword away sharply, a warning that you could slice his throat open anytime. 

Out of everything you ever thought you would go through, never did you think you would be the one wielding the blade that would kill him.

The love of your life.

//

A few hours ago…

“I see him.” 

Taking this mission was perhaps a mistake. Were you ready to meet him? 

Did it matter?

The hurt he left you all those years ago still lingered and you knew more than anyone else how doing this could free you from all the suffering. The waking up in the middle of the night, screaming and sobbing into your pillow from nightmares of how he would die. There were many choices, from a truck running into him on the street, a sniper from afar, suicide, and torture. Whatever your twisted brain could think of.

And you thought that maybe if you were the one to do it, they could stop. 

It was selfish to do this for the sole purpose of having a better night’s sleep. Was it the newfound anger, or the buried grief and sorrow filling your head? You didn’t know. All you could understand was your mission, to kill him however you wanted. 

You looked down at your watch, seeing that you had about three hours left to complete it. And near it, the ring he had given you years ago, a promise he had made to be the best you would ever have. 

What a fucking liar.

You scoffed before turning away and looking below you. Your sword rested heavily on your back, ready to be used. You had gotten used to it and it was the weapon that you were most comfortable with, thus it became your main choice for any mission to be completed. 

You detected movement in the exit and there he was, running outside with the orb you needed. It glowed in the night, and his stupid brain was probably using it as a flashlight. You tied your hair back and spoke into your earpiece.

“I’m going in.” 

With a swift jump, you landed on the same ground he was jogging on and you sprinted, trying your best to catch up with him. But after thirty seconds of running, you noticed that you couldn’t see the glow anymore. 

You pulled to a halt, grateful that the rain masked the sound of your footsteps. You looked around, wary of your surroundings.

“Up here, princess.” His voice echoed and you faced up, seeing him with his grin of mischief illuminated by the glowing object. 

Without another word, you hopped onto the ledge and lunged at him. Your fingertips barely brushed against the orb before he sped away. You grunted before catching up with him and throwing yourself onto his back, making him tumble and fall onto the ground with the sphere flailing out of his hands and rolling onto the ground. Just as you were about to cuff him, he flipped quickly. With his bigger build and greater strength, getting you off of him must’ve been a piece of cake. 

“Hm, I didn’t know you were so kinky.” He looked at the cuffs but you had no reply. You quickly lunged back at him and held his hands together. 

“Wait-” 

You pushed his arms up, pinning him onto the ground with all your might. The stretch made him wince as you reached to grab the cuffs to bind him with. You grasped onto the metal at the same time he pushed you off of him. 

Your back collided with the floor and with your sword still on your back, the fall poked you a little more than it normally would. 

“Damn, when did you get so strong?” You nearly replied with a yell as you jumped back onto your feet and pulled out your sword. He stared at the cuffs and raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, “really, this is all you got?” before pulling his arms in opposite directions, breaking the cuff in a matter of seconds. 

Your heart skipped a beat, not sure if you found it attractive or if it was the fear beginning to swallow you. 

You thought he would go for you but he turned around and walked towards the orb. You quickly leapt onto him, trying to pull him back from reaching the prize. Pulling yourself backwards so he would fall back, you wrapped your thighs around his neck as you raised your sword, ready to bring it down onto him. 

But he managed to wring free of most of you before you could, sending your sword flying onto the ground a few feet away from you. 

“Woah cupcake, you nearly killed me there. That’s a big move for a very small-” Cutting him off, you kicked his knee, making him lose balance, which he, unfortunately, regained quite quickly. You couldn’t even try to reach for your sword. 

He grabbed your small hand and clasped it in his tightly before slamming it onto the wall behind you. With heavy breaths escaping both of your lips, you tried to pull your hand away but he was too strong, unmatched for your frail body. 

You felt so humiliated and weak and all you wanted to do was run away into hiding. You came here to kill him, not to be killed by him. 

“I’ve gotta say, you’re far better at this than I thought you would be.” His face came close to yours and you couldn’t help but stare right into his eyes. Such familiar and kind eyes, filled with trauma and a soul afraid of death because of all it had taken from others.

“I would knock you out but-”

You yelled, grabbing your small knife with your other hand and tossing it up in the air before bringing it down onto his leg, hearing his thundering scream so loud in your ears. But you had no time to be startled.

You tackled him onto his knees and brought the knife up one more time just so you could finish the job. But watching him struggle ignited your long forgotten soft spot for him, the part of you that would always love him and forgive him after everything he had done.

Unfortunately, your hesitation was his escape.

He jumped off the floor, back onto the ground he was running on just minutes ago and you groaned in frustration at yourself before throwing the knife onto his leg, your aim and precision perfect as usual, striking him on his left foot. 

You grabbed your sword and jumped onto the ground before standing in front of him again with the expectation for him to be backing onto his knees. But instead, he forced himself up and grabbed your throat.

“Don’t make me do this.” He grunted, squeezing tighter as you began to feel nothing in your fingertips, losing grip on your sword. 

No, no, no, no.

You couldn’t lose like this. 

Everything was beginning to spin and you just wanted to succumb to it, to run from the pain around your throat. You needed air, or something just to help you get your shit back together.

“Your love has been a lie from the start hasn’t it?” He said and that was it.

It ignited the desire to fight in you and with all the strength you could gather, you dropped your sword and punched his throat, letting him loosen his grip around you and allowing you to drop. Gasping for air while you picked yourself and the sword up. With a scream, you sliced his stomach with your blade, staining it with his blood. You heard the squelch, proof of your job well done.

You tackled him onto the ground and he grabbed your leg, making you slide onto the floor as he crawled on top of you. 

“Enough!” He bellowed but you kicked him away and got on your feet before grabbing the hair on the back of his head and making him face you. No words were spoken for a long while, just the rain and the sweat and heavy breathing. 

You let go of his head and brought your sword up, ready to swing the final blow. You exhaled, preparing yourself for perhaps the biggest moment of your life.

“Was it?” He breathed out and you stopped but still held onto your sword tightly.

“Was it really a lie?” 

A long pause then you realized.

You shouldn’t waste time like this, and entertain him by answering. But he didn’t deserve that, to die with the thought that you didn’t love him and therefore he did nothing wrong. He should bear the consequences of hurting you, sending the flaming agony into your life and encompassing every moment of your life with acrimony from that moment forward. 

“I loved you and I wanted it to be you.” You breathed out, feeling all the enmity rise up into you and pour out of you in flames, undiminishable by the heavy droplets of rain falling onto your warm skin. 

“I wanted to grow old with you and have a life with you; a simple and easy life.” You continued as you brought down your sword.

“All I had to hold onto was the man that actually cared about me.” You chuckled, letting the tip of your sword touch the ground. 

“I thought I wasn’t enough this whole time but it was just…” You looked into his eyes, desperate and longing and it almost made you break down. Fortunately, he dropped his head before you could.

“It was just you. You were selfish and arrogant and that is why you will die today. It’s not my blade, not my hand, not me. It was you that chose this long ago.” You gripped your sword and gulped, feeling the warm tears starting to fall over your cheeks, burning with bitterness.

I wanted it to be you, so bad. 

You swallowed your feelings and exhaled.

All you wanted was him. You just wanted late nights and early mornings with him, waking up to his beautiful face instead of an empty bed and worrying he might not have made the night. You asked for simple things and he couldn’t live up to them so why are you feeling guilty? 

You had to do this. 

Happy endings never did exist in your book and this was just another job, right? It should be easy. One slice and he would be gone. You would get the orb and that would be it. 

And finally, he looked up.

His smile was sad. 

“So, what are you waiting for?” 

With the moonlight above you, you could see his own tears cascading down his cheeks. He looked beautiful even doing that and you wanted to drop the weapon and wipe them away from his face.

But you knew better than that. His love for you had dissipated long ago and all that was left was a pity for himself. At least, that was what you were trying to convince yourself just so you could do this.

You raised your sword and inhaled, gripping your sword tightly. 

It didn’t matter anymore. Now was the time. 

Revenge is such a petty idea but this was all it was.

You loved him and he had proven it to be less than enough so why do you have to hold onto it?

Your knuckles were turning white and it felt as if you could split them open if you kept holding onto your sword so tightly.

“Goodbye, my love.”

You breathed out the words, feeling the anguish at the last two words, swallowing you whole. But what he said after broke you even more.

“Good night princess.”

Then you finished the job.

a/n: thank you for reading! i hope you liked it and i’d love to know who you imagined throughout! this was something i wrote a while back but i wanted to upload it so here it is!! thank you again, a reblog or like would be appreciated. 

#angst #bts angst #bangtan #Svt #svt imagines #seventeen angst #sad #enemies to lovers #lovers to enemies #superhero #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dk x reader #mingyu x reader #minghao x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #kpop

[crownjimin]

☆ ⁄⁄ ★ 050 | gifts for jimin

coffee — the enemies to lovers social media au where min yoongi refuses to date a cheerleader, but yoon haryun might be able to change that.

( masterlist / prev / next )

tag(s): @secretlycrazyhummingbird @preciouschimine @bubblytaetae @btsarmymochi97 @chogiyeol-utopia @flyxfall @cherrybubblesandvodka

☆ ⁄⁄ ★

The night of the party came quickly. October 13th, arguably one of the most important days of the year, had arrived, and it felt as if a royal event was to take place.

There was an electric buzz in the air that was tangible the moment you set foot on campus, as everyone seemed to have a particular pep in their step. Those who were fortunate enough to come face-to-face with the man of the day, Park Jimin, seemed to be more excited about his birthday than he was himself. Almost every other person had a gift for Jimin. Whether it was a gift bag or an envelope with a card inside, they ensured to shower him with presents throughout the day.

He was overwhelmed by all of the expensive and showy gifts a few classmates attempted to give him. Hyoyeon from his Perspectives class bought him the newest Keurig, the one that brewed lattes and cappuccinos, so he knew it was expensive. Suri from his dance class gifted him a watchband made of patent leather, which the price had the specific amount scribbled out for obvious reasons.

And as the day went on, Jimin’s arms filled.

Between his last class of the day and dance practice, Jimin had thirty-five minutes to make his way home, shower, change, and return to campus for practice. Today, his trek was slightly longer, as he paused a few times to collect his bearings and reassure himself he wasn't leaving behind any gifts he had received throughout the day.

Fifteen minutes later, he made it into the apartment safely, yet out of breath. On the couch, deeply enthralled with whatever cartoon was on the television, sat Jungkook, oblivious and aloof to the struggles his roommate had just endured.

“Kook-ah, be a saint and help,” Jimin slid off his shoes and backpack as he spoke. “Please.”

At the sound of Jimin’s voice, Jungkook turned and smiled, rising from his spot to greet and obey Jimin’s plea. “Jimin-ssi, happy birthday!”

Burnt out and tired, Jimin paid no mind to the lack of honorifics as Jungkook teased him, shedding a different article of clothing with each step toward his room. A pair of sweatpants and a hoodie later, Jimin was back the way he came and happy to see the clutter that once inhabited the area in front of the door was gone as he had asked.

A rustling could be heard from the living room, signaling that Jungkook was probably helping himself to the many gifts Jimin had. A part of him wanted to scold Jungkook, give him some half-assed lecture about how it was rude to open other people's birthday presents, but it was Jungkook. Jimin knew Jungkook would never open anyone else's gifts since he didn't do it to Namjoon at their shared party a few weeks earlier. Jungkook had known Jimin for years; they practically shared all property.

(Save for Yebin, Jimin was more than happy to let Jungkook have her to himself for a slew of reasons--the more prominent one being that Yebin was like a daughter to Jimin, someone he protected with his life, so there was no romantic attraction there at all.)

While Jungkook sifted through the items, tiny noises of interest and gasps of surprise left his mouth every few seconds. Jimin grabbed his prepacked dance bag and his set of keys before he yelled over his shoulder, "Kook-ah, I'm going!"

Jimin slipped on his shoes, waiting for a response from Jungkook, and just as he pulled open the door and stepped outside, Jungkook's voice could be heard gasping, "You got a Keurig?!"

          Dance practice was the one place Jimin felt like everyone treated each other as equals. Despite him and Hoseok sharing the co-captain title and having more authority over dance routines, everyone was friendly enough that Jimin considered everyone his acquaintance. For a few select team members, Jimin called them his friends, people he hung out with outside of dance practice just for leisure fun.

Lee Luda seemed to float somewhere between those two classifications. She was more than an acquaintance—Luda would speak to Jimin whenever she saw him outside dance practice, no matter where, when, or how busy she seemed. But those were the only times they would speak, in brief spurts over some time that Jimin would not call frequent enough to call her a friend but also not scarce to where he could leave her as an acquaintance.

It was his first year in university when Jimin had first seen Luda. She looked so small amongst the immense sea of people that wished to try out for the dance team that year. Anyone from any year level could try out for the dance team, but there was always a naivete and innocence to the freshman that they were easy to pick out. Jimin was one of those, an auditionee that looked timid and nervous but kept to themselves out of the instinct of survival: every man for themselves.

It wasn't until after tryouts finished and the names of who made the team were posted that Jimin had spoken to Luda. Brief congratulations were exchanged between the two, something that nearly gave Jimin a heart attack to do, and he planned to leave it at that. Until Luda began gushing, with extravagant gestures with her hands and the way her eyes sparkled while she talked about Jimin's dancing and how easy it was to get lost in how he moved.

Tiny, timid Jimin had a hard time receiving compliments for anything. Nonetheless, compliments on his dancing. And even less than that, compliments from a pretty girl who was also very talented in dancing.

She had continued on and on for a solid five minutes, only noticing that she had been rambling once Jimin’s round, brown eyes never moved from her face. She blushed a furious red, her cheeks aglow as she muttered an apology, a second congratulations, and hurried away.

The crush Jimin had on Luda was inevitable. His stare always lingered in her direction; something about how she carried herself left an aura that radiated positivity in waves. Sooner than later, the awkwardness from their initial interaction faded, and there was a tenderness to how Luda would speak to Jimin. Even before he became co-captain of the dance team, her words were always soft-spoken and comforting to him.

This was why, as practice ended that day, everyone was exhausted but preening with excitement about Jimin's party later; Jimin stayed back a few minutes—as requested by Luda. Never had she asked to speak to him in private before, but most subtly during practice, Luda had pulled him aside and asked for him to patiently wait for her once everyone left.

She could ask him to murder for her, and Jimin would've foolishly complied. So as Hoseok begrudgingly left without Jimin, after all his complaints and worries, Jimin was left alone in the dance studio. He stood idly in front of the mirrors, touching up his hair and ensuring he didn't look like practice had wiped too much out of him.

He was freshly showered, doing so in the locker rooms adjacent to the studio they had used that day. Seven minutes passed, and there was no sign of Luda anywhere. Jimin tried to take note of which direction she had gone in after practice, maybe the locker rooms or out into the central area of the Arts Building. However, his plan fell flat once multiple people rushed up to him with wishes for his birthday. Once that group of people had dispersed, Jimin decided to abandon the plan and patiently wait.

The seven minutes turned to ten, then twelve, and for a smidge of a second, Jimin thought he had been stood up by Luda. But before those thoughts could fester, the door to the dance room clicked open, and a loud squeaky noise filled the room.

A multitude of balloons blocked the doorway, tiny grunts and sounds of struggle beneath them as they were squeezed through the door by a smiling Luda who struck a pose and smiled giddily at Jimin.

"Happy Birthday, Jimin-ah!" She shouted, a breath of air leaving her as she hurried over to Jimin and shoved the balloons into his hands before she was back out the door in a flash.

Moments later, she's back with a massive poster board, a cardboard box, and a perfectly wrapped present complete with a bow, cluttered in her hands as she made her way to him. With the fast-paced beating of his heart and the sheer amazement at Luda and her antics, Jimin found himself frozen in astonishment.

He wanted to take a moment to thank Luda and applaud her for even giving him a present in the first place, but Luda left no room for Jimin to talk. Because in less than a millisecond, she had snatched the balloons from his grasp, letting them float freely within the space. She held the poster board in front of her face as she shook it back and forth animatedly.

"I recruited, and by recruited, I mean forced, everyone on the team to print out their pictures with you for a collage," Luda said from behind the poster. "Hobi had a lot, so I had to limit him to three pictures to make room for everyone else's-"

The poster board was much longer than Luda's wingspan as she struggled to hold it up. Still, Jimin's eyes raked over the photos with intense nostalgia as tons of pictures from the last year and a half were splayed in front of him. There were many pictures of Jimin and Soojin after they had placed first with their duet performance at last year's regionals. They were clad in their costumes with a shit ton of makeup, but the smiles on their faces were contagious as present-day Jimin found himself smiling too.

Two pictures of Taemin and Jimin were right below the images with Soojin, sandwiched between pictures with Seulgi and Soonyoung. Jimin's eyes continued moving as he came about the outermost edges to see pictures of him, Minhyuk, and Momo. A slew of images with Hoseok, mainly taken outside of dance practice, sat at the bottom, with giant smiles on their faces.

But in the middle, the largest of them all, was a picture of Luda and Jimin. One where Luda had her arms wrapped around Jimin's neck, his arms around her waist, and their cheeks smushed together as they cheesed at the camera in a similarly energetic manner. Jimin could recall that moment as if it happened yesterday, the very moment when Luda had made the dance team for the second year in a row, and Jimin had just been announced to have been voted co-dance captain with Hoseok.

Spirits had been high that day, and with the ease of a well-oiled machine, Jimin had wrapped his arms around Luda and requested their picture to be taken. He had expected Luda to push him off or freeze for a moment, but the exact opposite had occurred. Her arms quickly snaked around Jimin's neck, and she rose to her tiptoes and pressed her cheeks to his. It took all of a second to take the picture. Still, Jimin had spent most of his night later that evening staring at the utter perfection of that picture.

Once Jimin had taken in the collage of photos, he reached forward to grab the poster board from Luda's hands with little to no objection from her. He opened his mouth to express his gratitude, but before he could mutter a sound, Luda shoved the nicely wrapped box into his hands and tossed the poster board to the floor.

The poster fluttered pathetically to the ground as Luda gestured to the box with excitement. "Open it!"

Not needing any more convincing, Jimin gracefully took to his knees to set the box on the floor as he proceeded to tear the paper from the outside and peek to see the contents within. Luda had followed him down to the floor, almost as eager to look into the box as if she hadn’t been the one to place the items in the box herself hours prior.

The first thing Jimin came across was a small journal. It was no larger than his hand, which meant it was pretty small in size and perfect to stick inside his pocket. The book's cover had 'OPEN ME' scribbled in Sharpie, to which Jimin obliged and turned to the first page.

This is a LUDA ANYWHERE-ANYTIME coupon, redeemable for ONE TIME ONLY. Use wisely, Jiminssi, for your Luda coupon has an expiration date of 12/31/2099!

Jimin laughed at the sight, his fingers instinctively flipping through the rest of the pages to find every single one with the same script on them. A coupon for Luda, anytime, anywhere, no questions asked, but only redeemable once for each page. There were easily enough coupons to last Jimin a year and a half if he used them weekly and responsibly. But knowing himself and his lack of control when it came to Lee Luda, the coupons would maybe last him a month. (Two if he tried exceptionally hard to ration them).

“Luda, these,” Jimin paused to laugh as he looked up and caught Luda’s eyes watching him intensely. “They are every-”

“Wait, wait,” Luda interrupted. Carefully, she took the small notebook from Jimin’s hands and set it to the side. “We haven’t even gotten to the best parts. Keep going.”

The next item that caught Jimin's eye was a navy-blue porcelain jar. A bow was securing the top of the pot with a note hanging from it. Flipping the small piece of paper, Jimin read:

Happy Birthday, Jiminssi! Namie and I wanted to get you something special to show our appreciation. We did some deep diving and decided to create a custom tea for you!

Namie's aunt in Japan has a tea shop, and she helped us create a tea that reminded us of you in flavor and scent. It's a blend of jasmine and peach teas with a few more additives that we swore not to share for the sake of it being unique to you and Namie's aunt's shop in Japan.

Hope you enjoy it! If you ever make it to Japan one day, Namie's aunt wants you to visit her shop. She thinks you're adorable :))

With a steady hand, Jimin untied the bow, unscrewed the top, and took a whiff. The Jasmine scent was strong, but there were undertones of peach and a smidge of vanilla that had Jimin swooning from the comfort it gave his body. Astonishment overcame him at the intensity of all the gifts; first the board, then the coupons, and now a custom tea that Luda and Namie had gotten from Japan.

Jimin softly placed the jar onto the floor as he grabbed the last item in the box: a long, sleek black box that had For Jimin in gold lettering on the top. Jimin opened the box without hesitation, and from the pure shock that electrified his body, he dropped the box.

The loud slam startled Luda, who laughed and picked up the contents before she huffed out a breath, "Don't drop these now, Jiminssi. These were the most expensive out of everything."

“Luda, I can’t take those,” Jimin quietly spoke. “I refuse.”

As if the words Jimin had said meant nothing to her, Luda placed the open box in front of Jimin again. "I reject your refusal. Now put them on."

In front of him, glimmering from the studio lights in the dance room, taunting Jimin with the expensive nature of the gift, sat two rings. Both were made with sterling silver, and both were rings Jimin had once saved in his gallery as a future gift for himself once he felt like he was responsible enough for a purchase that large.

Conflicting emotions were rushing through his body at that moment. Anxiety from how overwhelmed he was at the entire gift-giving ordeal Luda had set up for him. Slight fear at how Luda had even known Jimin had been thinking about purchasing the ring set for himself in the future. And lastly, as he slid the rings onto his thumb and middle finger, was how Luda knew the ring size perfectly to the point where they were snug and felt at home on his stubby little fingers.

Jimin took a few moments to admire the jewelry on his fingers in silence as he came to terms with the fact that the girl of his dreams had made the purchase of his dreams and gifted them to him for his birthday. As if it was just another simple thing they did. Luda had just changed Jimin's life forever, and she probably had no idea.

"Do you like them?" Luda had the gall to look nervous as she spoke, her eyes dancing across all of the gifts she had just bombarded Jimin with in the last fifteen minutes. "I put a lot of thought into most of these, and I just want you to like them."

And to think, Jimin was convinced Luda would stand him up.

"Luda, these are perfect gifts that I'm not even sure I deserve," Jimin said with finality. "You went above and beyond for me, and I really appreciate it all."

"Oh, I'm so glad," Jimin felt himself melt at the smile Luda sent his way. "I had to practically hound the entire dance team for their photos of you, and some of them were being selfish, which threw off my entire plan, but I got them in the end."

“I’m glad our picture was the largest.”

Luda nodded. "Yeah, Hobi-Oppa almost strangled me because his pictures with you weren't in the middle, but I told him this was my project and that he had to deal with it.”

“I love the dedication.”

“Thanks,” she responded. “It’s one of my best qualities.”

“But how’d you get the ring sizes?” Jimin held his hand that adorned the rings up to Luda as he still felt himself stare in awe. “They’re perfect.”

"I got Jungkookie to take a thumb ring and middle finger ring from you. I also had him take measurements to be sure," Luda shrugged as she packed the jar of tea, the now empty box that once held the rings, and the coupon book into the box they came from. "I'd be agitated if I paid all that money, and they didn't fit you."

"But-" Jimin lost his voice as he began to think of the sheer effort she had to put into everything to get such perfect presents for his birthday.

"And I know how much of a ring guy you are, so I just found something that I would wear and thought about it that way," She continued to explain. "Honestly, now I understand why some people love gift giving because of the look on your face the entire time, Jiminssi-"

Luda paused her movements to look Jimin straight in his eyes, almost as if she wanted him to know she meant every word.

"-I like seeing you happy. It gave me this sort of…," Luda trailed off as she sought the proper word to describe her feelings.

“Tingle,” Jimin answered. “It felt like a tingle.”

A timid smile appeared on Luda’s face. “Yeah, a tingle.”

Jimin had an inkling about the tingle Luda felt. It was one that he experienced each time he had caught himself dreaming up scenarios about her in his head, scenarios that shocked his spine and left his lower back sizzling with anticipation and nerves. It was uncomfortable at first, but now it was almost masochistically satisfying when it happened.

Amicable silence accompanied the two of them as they set about cleaning up any evidence that they had spent time in the practice room after the allotted time had ended. Luda offered to take the balloons back to her place once Jimin voiced he had no legitimate use for them back at his own. Luda had been sure Namie and Geummi would find some odd service for them later as they continued to pack up and walk side by side as they exited the Arts Building.

Jimin began to set off to the left as Luda set off to the right, both stopping once they realized this was where they would split ways.

"I'll see you later tonight, Luda?" Jimin asked, surely, mostly positive Luda would be at his party.

“Of course, Jiminssi,” Luda replied as she stepped up to him, rose to her tiptoes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Save me a dance.”

As Luda turned to take her leave, Jimin called out, “How about two?”

"Make it three, and we have a deal!"

Yeah, Jimin thought to himself, there was no way he was getting over Lee Luda anytime soon.

( masterlist / prev / next )

author’s note: APOLOGIES!! APOLOGIES!! i feel like i’ve apologized every ten chapters for disappearing but this time… SIX MONTHS???? i didn’t mean to leave for six months but when life changes a little too fast, baby it gets crazy.

anyway, with that out of the way. i am back until the end of this story (which i have planned and mostly written beforehand). once i’m done with coffee i’ll take a short break before i’m back with the second part of the series.

okay, enjoy and i’ll be back on tuesday :)))

#min yoongi x female oc #min yoongi social media au #min yoongi #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #bts social media au #coffee social media au #humor #enemies to lovers

[whiteteadreams]

Masterlist

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Enhypen Masterlist

Ateez Masterlist

#bts #kpop #stray kids #felix lee #Monsta X #shin wonho #wonho solo #fluff #angst #masterlist #enphyen #park sunghoon #the acts of insomnia #min yoongi #jake sim #enemies to lovers #lee haechan #whiteteaandsagedreams #jeong jaehyun #horror #fantasy #NCT 127 #nct dream #nct #nct u #jung jaehyun #lee donghyuck #lee jeno #na jaemin #nomin

[vodkawithjin]

you've got a Friend in me by tangowithsuga (me!)

Artwork by louderthanaisha on Twitter

#yoonjin #Tangowithsuga #Saxwithtae #Jinsuga #Sugajin #Jinga #BTS Jin #BTS suga #Kim Seokjin #Min Yoongi #Fluff #Smut #enemies to lovers #Miscommunication #college au

[fic-ive-read]

Link To The Fic

I don't stray to RPF very often, but this fic is so AU that it doesn't even feel like RPF tbh. My friend has been getting to me into BTS and kpop in general since the beginning of April and I even just got back last week from seeing Suga (aka Agust D) live in Chicago xD Happy reading!

#min yoongi/park jimin #jeon jungkook/kim taehyung #kim namjoon/kim seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #original characters #alternate universe #slow burn #angst #enemies to lovers #fantasy #magic #action #adventure #pirates #graphic depictions of violence #first time #humor #minor character death #hate to love #suga bts #suga #agust d #bts #bts fanfiction

[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

[bangtanseptimus]

BTS imagine:

 You’re working as an emergency out of hours plumber when you get a call from Min Yoongi’s  UN Village apartment. Arriving  at the scene, you find him in wellingtons next to an overflowing toilet. He denies flushing any wet wipes, but what you pull out of the U-bend tells a different story…

#BTS Imagine #BTS x reader #Suga #enemies to lovers #slow burn #min yoongi #rap line #diy #army #drain clearance #Bag it bin it don't flush it #meet cute

[jboofan]

There's something wrong with Manager Kim Part 16

Crazy Rich Asians

The house was empty without YN. A single lamp had been left on in the living room, and a note beside it explaining she had stepped out with Jin.

The kitchen was spotless back to the way she had always kept it in his absence, the remnants of last night's food neatly placed in the recycling ready to be dumped.

Who knew the woman that was the bane of his life was such a domestic goddess?

With last night's events still on his mind, he worried that because of what had taken place she would suddenly want commitment. Like real commitment. Not the fake let's pretend whilst we are married shit.

Paranoia getting the better of him, he wondered if she had changed her mind and gone to sleep in the guest room. He still snuck his head around the door; the bed had been neatly made and more importantly it hadn't appeared to have been slept in.

Did that mean she ended up sleeping in their bedroom last night?

Conflicted, he asked himself why he hadn't simply gotten up once she fell asleep to go sleep in the spare room.

There was no sign that she had been in the room, her lack of presence suddenly hung heavily in the air. He stood, saddened about how the place would be when she left.

This is fake. How do I stop myself from thinking it's not? He sighed.

No sooner had he realised this, had he thought what would happen when they faced each other.

Would they act normal around each other? Act like nothing happened? Or would they be adults and discuss it?

Yoongi shook his head, dragged his tired body across the giant landing back to the master bedroom, where he unceremoniously flopped back onto the bed.

He took a deep breath, and as soon as he recognised her scent on her pillow, his resolve was shook again.

"Get a grip man," he groaned, moving to her side of the bed and willing himself to fall asleep on her pillow.

*

YN opened the heavy door and was greeted by the sight of a damp haired Yoongi coming down the stairs.

"You're up," she managed, dropping her keys on the coffee table.

"Hmm," he managed, as he took in her outfit.

Not bad..least she had covered up those beautiful legs and chosen one of his hoodies.

How did she manage to steal his clothes without his knowledge?

Yoongi wasn't sure how to greet her. His fake wife she was, his lover she wasn't, but definitely a one night stand.

How do you do that with your pretend wife and it not be awkward after??

Jin watched YN's harmless behaviour; the way she walked around the house like it was her own, but more fascinating was watching the way in which Yoongi seemed so open to her.

Both seemed to forget he was even there, as they shared a glance, slightly awkward but he put that down to the whole we're fake husband and wife.

Yoongi and YN's gaze connected, but she broke it as soon as she continued for the kitchen. Jin watched as Yoongi continued to gaze at her, mustering up enough heat to make corn pop. The space between them seemed to sizzle, and his poor sister was completely oblivious to it.

"YN, what did you wanna talk about?" Jin asked as he rolled his eyes at cheesy Yoongi and took the fresh coffee.

"No news broke of our wedding so I thought it was safe to come out for a coffee, but on the way there," she shook her head, "I thought," YN tried to remember her train of thought, the strange car, but couldn't recall. "I swear there was something else."

"Wanna stay for breakfast hyung?" Yoongi threw his damp hair towel at YN's head before reaching for the frying pan.

"I'll leave you two to it. I reckon he found a way to make sure it didn't. Maybe just stay home for a bit, at least don't go out on your own."

"I'm gonna take her out in a bit," Yoongi cracked some eggs, "she won't be alone."

"Good, good," Jin gulped the rest of the coffee, "right I'll speak to you later."

YN watched Yoongi as he whipped up some eggs and finally looked over at her.

"Stealing my hoodies again Princess?" he held her by the waist as his body moved towards hers, to get to the fridge.

Making a woman breakfast in the morning was a sure fire way to get some more sex and now he'd begun to develop a taste for it.

Yoongi nudged her nose before kissing her. He couldn't help it. She tasted like fresh coffee, and he wanted more; he could feel the heat simmering below the surface of his skin and touching her was just what he needed.

At first YN melted into him, and she seemed to let him kiss her again. But then as he turned her to lean comfortably against the worktop, perhaps even pull her back up the stairs to bed for round god-knows-which she resisted.

Yoongi felt YN pull away from him, and he didn't know if he was relieved, thankful, disappointed or angry.

Her lips appeared swollen and wet, a pink blush to her cheeks but a wholly blank look upon her face.

This wasn't YN. This was Chairman Bang YN.

She cleared her throat, and gave him a smile but he couldn't feel the warmth from it. Yoongi was sure she couldn't feel it either.

"Last night was great. I had a really nice time."

Yoongi couldn't believe it. Did she just use a guy's line on him.

His line?

He read between the lines, and it was stark news. Thanks for the fumble, but it's back to business now.

Which left him with his Deagu mumble and a quick, "Sure, um, me too," which didn't even scratch the surface of how great, how connected and deep it felt to have had her last night.

But Yoongi was a ladies man. A self confessed playboy by the media and he wasn't going to let something as small as feelings get in the way of his pride. He was well versed. He'd been playing this game for years, and if it was an Olympic sport he would be a gold medalist.

He cleared his throat, moved past her for a plate and carefully placed the scrambled eggs onto it.

"Have something to eat, I wanna take a drive later and there is a place I wanted to go to eat."

"So you weren't just saying that to Seokijin to make him think you'd be here with me?" she wasn't expecting him to really mean it. She'd actually hoped to go back to work.

"Well," he told her grabbing her hand as it forked eggs into his mouth instead of into her own, "I say what I mean. And I mean what I say."

This time she scoffed. "Yeah well, just cos you married me, doesn't mean you've changed. You say what you want, when you want if it gets you what you want. That ain't never gonna change Min Yoongi."

She threw the now damp towel back on his face, pouring them both a cup of coffee as though she did it every day.

The sadness of knowing this was all fictional also reminded her that there was no expectation of anything lasting. And knowing there was nothing lasting here between them made her refuse to get sucked into the vortex that is the Min Yoongi Experience.

Sex was sex. It was not love, but to her, a chemical imbalance that often led to physical weakness. The glittering prize of the Vice Presidency was what she wanted; she did not want to weaken herself, or fuck her way to the top in the process.

No, she needed to stay the fuck away from Yoongi. Not fuck him.

Yoongi gulped back the rejection and headed back up the stairs.

"Guess I'll go get changed then," he asked rhetorically, wanting to see what she would say to stop them falling into bed, but when she simply shrugged and stared at her phone uninterested he felt he got his answer.

**

**

Sick of looking at her phone or out the window YN finally turned to Yoongi with a huff.

"Ok, so I've sat here for nearly two hours and I'm getting hungry. How far are we from this mysterious restaurant, and can you just drop me off at the nearest 7 Eleven or Mcdonald?"

Yoongi gave a look of distaste.

"I forget you're an American sometimes."

"I'm some dumb foreigner remember?"

"Damn, you still remember that?" he sucked in air, as he recalled tapping the steering wheel.

"I never forget anything. You made my life a misery Miserable Min Yoongi."

"Ha! I did no such thing!"

"Really? You sure are forgetful aren't you?"

She cleared her throat, and he knew she was going to lay into him as she recounted various dumb things he had made her do.

"You were my manager. If I didn't think you were capable, I wouldn't have asked you to do half of those things! Besides," he said, trying to justify why he would make her get his coffee always several blocks away from the TV studios, "I was just trying to keep you away from all those prying eyes. They see a young woman and they would tried to take advantage."

"Like you marrying me isn't giving you any sort of advantage?" she questioned.

He pulled up.

"What does that mean?"

"You said that it would get your parents off your back, but your parents are no way as bad as mine. My mother anyway. I stand to lose so much, but you? You'd simply be seen as the guy that married the head of HYBE."

"Maybe I'll sell my story in the next few years when I'm down on luck and money. The guy that married YN and lived to tell the tale. Besides," he reminded her every chance he got, "I have money, which you need to live."

YN refused to bite the bait. He was pressing her buttons and she was getting angry from the lack of food.

"Should have married Hoseok. He's got more money than you apparently."

She smiled. Two can play this game.

"Really?!" he couldn't believe his ears, "then why didn't you ask him then huh? I got more money than him and I'm better looking. Yoongi marry me! That's what everyone says on every VLive. When I'm not even on it. You're married to me. So get used to it."

"Wow ok firstly calm down. It was a joke. It doesn't matter how much richer or poorer you are than Hoseok. I get I have to rely on you, but it's not like I'm out there spending all your damn money so stop talking to me like you fucking bought me."

Annoyed, they ignored one another until they were off the motorway, and pulling up at a large house in a nice neighborhood somewhere.

"Get out, we're here," he finally grumbled at her an hour later, slamming his door hard making her flinch.

"This is a restaurant?" she asked as they walked up to the front gate, no signs or menu anywhere. Not even a car park or valet.

"Best one around," he said as he punched in the pincode and walked in, a suspicious YN behind him.

"Ya, Yoongi, where are we and how do you know the code to this place? This place looks like a house. Oh my god," she said grabbing her phone trying to dial Seokjin.

"What are you even doing?" he watched her try to get out the door.

"I knew it. You're trying to lure me away to kill me. Otherwise why would you take me to some house somewhere when you said we were going to a nice restaurant?" She dialled his number and waited for it to connect as he wrestled the phone out her grip.

"If I wanted to kill you, I'd put poison in your coffee."

"God, I might just drink it to finally be rid of you," she retailiated as she snatched her phone back.

"Take your shoes off," he ordered her as he walked into the hallway and looked at the person standing there.

"Yoongi—" she called after him, rushing to pull her boots off, looking up as he grabbed her hand and led her through a living room door. Yoongi pulled her through, still holding her hand.

"Ma, Dad, we're here."

"You said—"

"I didn't say we were going to a restaurant. I said I'd take you to eat."

Then she realised. And she felt like an idiot for not getting it sooner.

Yoongi's mom walked in, smiling as she welcomed the two of them warmly.

"Ah, you made it?" her eyes and mouth smiled wider as she took in YN beside him. "And you bought YN!" she grinned.

Yoongi knew how excited his mother was at him for bringing home a woman for the first time, beaming and excited.

Just wait til she finds out I'm a married man, he thought.

"Yobo!" she called out to the back, over her shoulder, "Yoongi's here, with his fiancé! Hurry up! And where is Geum Jae?"

"YN, my Eomma. Eomma, you know YN," he introduced them again.

Nudging her forward essentially, he froze as his mother gasped loudly, screaming as she grabbed hold of YN hand to see the massive diamond that sat on her finger.

Watching the pained look on his mother's face, Yoongi tried to get the words out his mouth as she held her hand tightly, mouth gaping.

He couldn't find the words to explain that she had missed her youngest son's wedding.

"Eomma...Yoongi asked me to marry him, and I said yes. My mother was dead against it, and so we decided to do it before she could stop us," YN held her hand back and admitted the truth. Well, partially.

It was an unorthodox way to explain a marriage, but it seemed to have been the perfect way to explain it to Mrs Min.

Yoongi felt a pang of gratitude as YN held his hand, the other still in Mrs Min's as she seemed to absorb the news.

"Yobo!" she screamed it loudly now as both her husband and eldest son could be heard replying.

"You better get in here and meet Yoongi's new wife," her voice went a little high pitched, as YN looked at her worried about whether she was going to either have a stroke or something.

"I'm fine," she squeaked as she let go of YN's hand and shakenly took her husband's as he arrived looking at the pair confused.

Yoongi stood, a little surprised at her explanation and willingness to throw herself under the bus for him, and like many others at the company he too couldn't help but be in awe as the chairman worked the room, his parents especially.

"We're really sorry," she went to apologise formally to his parents, and Yoongi too was also beginning to bow in apology too.

YN knew not many people could ever say they’d heard such a humble apology coming from YN Bang. The look on his father’s face was priceless, and his brother even seemed to relax slightly as they watched Yoongi's father take YN’s hand and pat it lightly.

Suddenly YN felt herself yanked off to the couch by his mother, as Yoongi tried to stay standing next to her a little longer.

"Let go of your bride long enough to at least grab the girl a drink will you?" his Dad called out as Yoongi was dragged off to the kitchen bar.

Reluctantly he let go, whipping his head around to hear his mother squeal again in excitement at the ring he had given her, before she began telling YN how happy she was Yoongi had found a good woman.

Yoongi hoped she would survive the questioning until he managed to rescue her.

"Are you both happy?" she asked YN, her disappointment had gone, but the look in his mother's eye was more of pain.

"I, we are, yes," YN managed to reply.

"Then that's all that matters. We can always do something to celebrate," she smiled as she waved the conversation away with a hand before giving YN a warm hug.

YN hadn't been hugged like that in a long time, and sat, her arms to her sides unsure how to hug the older lady back. Feeling horrible, unable to shake the guilt of lying so openly to them about it all, and but was worse, was his mother's quick forgiveness of a wedding they were not be a part of.

It took finding his brother in the kitchen trying to get a taste of the cakes and sweet treats their mom had made to find YN's whereabouts.

"Yoongi-ah," Geum Jae called.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't want to say it before, it's cheesy and shit but congrats man. YN is really cool, down to earth. I thought she'd be cold and you know those CEO types."

"YN isn't like that."

Yoongi surprised himself with how quickly he jumped to her defense.

"But how lucky are you," Geum chuckled warmly, "you got to marry a stinking rich capitalist investor, who just took over her father's multi billionaire company. Your kids are set for life."

"Investment what?"

"Come on, don't act like you don't know, or don't check the web. She's minted. Her company invests in companies in different stages of development and gets a cut. I wondered why she looked at the English food ma made a little strange but then I remember there was an article about how she became a model and model diets and shit."

"I know what an investor is."

I just don't seem to know what she is.

He found her in the back yard, standing on the decking staring up at the sky. Yoongi walked across to where his new wife stood, tucking his hands into his jeans and rocking back and fourth on his heels.

"There you are," but she wasn't listening.

His eyes followed her sparkling ones as they stood, head arched back staring at the pinkish purple sunset, it's blue tinged clouds slowly paying by as her eyes twinkled.

"I never was one for pretty sunsets," she admitted out loud, "but it looks pretty beautiful, huh?" she looked back at him a moment.

"So beautiful," he said, still looking at her instead of the pretty night sky, before she realised and frowned a little at his admission.

"I didn't know you were a model or an investor. You lied to me. Again."

YN pursed her lips before going back to look up.

"You're annoyed that I didn't tell you my occupation, or that instead of you lying to a woman, she lied to you first instead," she shrugged, "not my fault you didn't do your due diligence before agreeing to marry me. I did mine."

"You definitely sound like an investor. I thought you were just Bang's daughter."

"You figured I was just some chaebol trust fund baby?" she answered his inner suspicion with a genuine laugh, "I guess I am to a certain extent."

"And apparently my wife was some famous model? Am I gonna blow my lid if I find out what kind of a model you were?"

"Probably best not to check in that case," she teased.

If he sees a bikini picture he might have a heart attack.

"I'm being serious YN. Is there anything else I need to know? For real. I'm getting tired of the lies."

"What cos I didn't give you the chance to lie first?" she laughed at how angry he was getting.

"I don't get why you're getting so wound up about it. It's not like this is real. It's all play; sure people will be like woah she used to parade around in skimpy clothes but then slap you on the back and say that you're a lucky man because of it?" she told it like it was.

No matter the decade, men would always be congratulated for being married to a trophy wife.

"Sweetheart, I'm just a temporary trophy wife, like I said. I did my due diligence. You have money, and I need money. Then you will be free and so will I. We can be free from each other. It's worth the investment."

"I'm sorry my mom brought up talk about a reception."

"It's fine," she followed a twinkling star coming through a cloud, "I'm sure she meant well. And it was sweet of her to say they would like to contribute towards it."

"Until Geum put his foot in it telling my folks to check your net worth instead."

"I'm used to people talking about my money. Well, in the States no one knew who I was. But I like your mom. She's sweet."

"That's true," he moved closer to her, till they were standing toe to toe. "But if a newlywed couple are out in the garden alone, it looks bad if they aren't at least stealing a kiss."

"You what?" she managed confused, as Yoongi wasted no time in smashing his lips against hers and stealing a big fat, wet kiss in the process before she could assault him.

He held her close, pulling her body to his. Heat spread through her and she knew she had never felt a kiss like that before, and was fairly sure she never would again. And that thought terrified her because this was temporary.

This wasn’t real.

And she didn’t crush on a man, let alone fall in love with men.

She just didn’t…. Did she?

Yoongi looked as stunned as she felt, his deep brown eyes seeming to go even darker with pleasure as he looked at her. He licked his lips and looked as though he might say something. Or kiss her again and God, yes, please that would work for him.

Before either could say or do anything more, the back door swung open and his brother was there.

"Oi, stop eating each other's faces off and come have some dessert!"

“I'd rather have you for dessert," Yoongi muttered under his breath, annoyed he'd been disturbed from making a move on his own wife. Taking her hand he pulled her toward the house as her head spun and her heart ricocheted in her chest.

@craftymoonchaos @bbl32 @ireadthensuetheauthors @pb-n-juju @audreonne @larenelizabeth @kyle-told-me-whats-up @alexayoonlee @forvever-ddaeng

#bts jin #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts taehyung #bts min suga #yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x yn #suga x yn #bts imagines #bts jhope #bts smau #bts social media au #suga imagines #enemies to lovers #bts jungkook #suga #agust d #min yoongi #yoongi smut #bts yn