#assassin!taehyung

[jimxnslight]

Finally Free || PJM

Summary: Kidnapped at a young age, Y/N is forced to work for an organisation that specialises in killing. All is well until she begins to realise her partner, Park Jimin, may be keeping more secrets from her than she realised.

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader

Genre: Assassin reader, assassin Jimin, enemies (?) to friends to lovers, assassins AU, angst

Word Count: 22.9k

Warnings: Kidnapping, murder/assassination, gun violence, knife violence, physical violence, major character death, mentions of a dead animal, blood, heated making out

“Once upon a time, there was a girl.

She was haughty and smug, plagued with the impression that those around her were inferior in every way possible. Her notion was not without foundation, for she topped her classes again and again, excelled in every activity she’d ever bothered to try, and had every student in the school wishing her to give them the time of day. Teachers lifted her with commendation and boys begged for but a simple chance. 

Her only problem was that she was too good, and she didn’t bother to hide it.

She would revel in the praises of her classmates, flaunting her grades and trophies to no limits. New strangers were not seen as the beginning of a novel relationship, but new opportunities to show off her excellence. Adoration had become her perpetual melody. 

Until one day the turntable turned no more.

The girl brushed her hair softly as she sat in front of her dresser, watching as the silky curls bounced against her nightgown. She was in awe at her porcelain skin and the delicate dip of her nose. Admiration for herself was nothing out of the ordinary, enough to put even a man like Narcissus to shame. But what she didn’t notice that night was the shadow watching her from afar. 

Its gaze fixated through the cool glass of the window with focus and intensity. Had the girl been just a little aware, she might have even caught it, but she was much too immersed in stretching across her bed happily as thoughts of tomorrow’s exam results filled her with glee.

Her ignorance continued as the shadow finally moved, slithering within the darkness until it emerged from the shadows, slowly stepping towards the girl.

That was the last time anyone had ever seen her again. 

Her parents had sworn they had heard a scream erupt from their daughter’s room at the strike of midnight, but upon stumbling into her room, they were only met with an empty bed, a window left wide open, and a message engraved on the alabaster wall dripping in crimson red blood:

‘We see all, we know all, we control all.’

The next day, gasps reverberated against the walls of the school. Not at the news of the girl’s disappearance, no the parents had not disclosed such information just yet, but at the results board that had been pinned in the hallway. 

The girl that had never gotten below a full mark in her life had just received a zero, her name written boldly at the end of the list of students. 

The day after, the school newspaper’s front page had, for the first time, displayed a headline worthy of turning the students' heads. It had been a three page summary of every sin the girl had ever committed, from cheating on her boyfriend in the eighth grade to bullying her friends into obedience in the tenth.

At the end of the newspaper, was an oddly written sign off.

‘We see all, we know all, we control all.’

One by one, everything the girl had worked hard for throughout her life had been torn down within a month- her reputation, her achievements, her school rank. Until one day, even the mention of her name was met with scoffs and rolled eyes. 

‘It’s good she’s gone, she got what she deserved.’

‘If she’s really done all that, I hope she’s dead.’

‘She was snobby and arrogant anyway, good riddance.’

Jealousy is such an easy tool to play with, and they indeed played it with ease. But their intentions were not influenced by such an emotion. The pettiness of an action motivated by jealousy was far too low for their standards. They took the girl because they wanted her. They wanted her brain, her body, her soul. And they didn’t need to ask permission from anyone. 

Because they see all.

They know all.

And they control all.

So, what is the moral of the story?”

The room was met with silence. Once upon a time you would rush to fill the quiet void created by the darkness of midnight and your mother’s expectations. Her words would seep into the marrow of your bones and create some of the worst nightmares you could think of.

But now you could only scoff.

“Don’t be a show off,” the words left your lips automatically. You were only half paying attention anyway, the mind of a nine year old tended to do that when being told the same story for what was probably the hundredth time. 

All you wished to do was burrow into the blanket covering your frame and fall into the peace that was a gift of sleep.

Your mother simply hummed. She had asked this question as many times as she had told the story, and your reply was always the same. Even her hum in response was no different from the other times. It was never any indication as to whether the answer satisfied her, only a mere act of acknowledgement. 

But instead of turning off the nightlight of your room and calling it a night like she always did, this time she stayed behind, gaze boring into yours as she watched your tiny figure hugging the pillow on the large bed.

“Is that truly what you believe the moral to be?” She asked unusually.

Your mother has always been ominous in everything she said. You were sure her words always held some kind of double meaning, like she knew things you didn’t and she wanted to make sure you knew it.

“Yes?” You replied, doubt weakening your response. Up until now, you had always believed that your answer had been adequate enough.

Was it not?

Your mother chuckled, another unusual action for her. Tonight seemed to be full of surprises. 

“You will figure it out one day,” she stood, obviously refusing to answer anything in a way that might make sense. 

“Did you lock your window?” She asked, checking the lock anyway.

You nodded your head, another routine question answered flatly.

“Then let your dreams give you comfort,” she said, one of the rare phrases of hers that genuinely brought warmth to your chest.

“Goodnight,” you replied, watching her walk out of the room while gently closing the door behind her. 

Your room was drenched in the night’s darkness, only a sliver of moonlight allowing you to see the outline of the fancy furniture distributed throughout the room. You could hear the screeching caw of a bird outside your window, the tick tocks of the grandfather clock hiding behind your dresser, and the occasional tussle of your bedsheet as you squirmed around. 

You were restless tonight, the words of your mother oddly bothering you awake.

If the moral of the story wasn’t to not show off, then what else could it possibly be? If the girl had not flaunted her achievements, they wouldn’t have known how smart she was and they wouldn’t have taken her. It was a logical answer with a logical explanation.

You huffed as you pushed the blanket off yourself and made your way to the window, eyeing the bright moon as you swam in the ocean that was your thoughts.

Maybe she should have tried to be more likeable? If she had been more genuine towards her friends, they might have liked her enough to search for her after her disappearance. That’s how it was in those movies, wasn’t it? The main character’s friend disappears, the police close the case due to lack of evidence, and then the main character takes it upon themself to search for their friend alone.

Maybe that was what your mother was trying to point towards?

You sighed, not feeling any kind of enlightenment at your ideas. Your small hands found the lock of the window and pulled it open, feeling the light breeze of the fresh air outside. 

Life is not a movie my dear child. Reality is a lot more harsh than what they make it out to be.

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, though you don’t even remember when she’s ever said them. She seemed to have grown a consciousness of her own in your head. You suppose most people would classify that as some kind of mental illness.

You felt yourself lean forward, resting your arms on the windowsill as you closed your eyes and basked in the chill breeze. For a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would feel like to walk outside, to feel soft grass, or hard sidewalk concrete. That was what normal people did, didn’t they? They went on walks and played in parks. But you had never done those things. Maybe that’s why you felt like you were going crazy.

As you opened your eyes, they suddenly flitted across a shadow that you swear you saw on the stone driveway of your house. It had been small, and if it had really existed, then it had also been very quick. You strained your neck forward so that you could get a better look outside of the window. Your driveway was still within your house thanks to a tall iron gate, so no one other than your mother and the maids could be outside and at this hour it was unlikely that any of them would even be up at all.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn’t realise just how far you had been leaning against the window until you felt your hold on the windowsill slip. Your arms slipped forward, bringing your whole body with you. You only had a second to register the fact that you were going to fall, from a height that could very much kill you. But you didn’t. Your body didn’t slip outside of the window, nor did it hit against the hard stone driveway. Instead, you felt a hand grab your collar from behind, and throw you across your bedroom. Your back collided with the wood of your dressing table, causing pain to flare in your bones. 

That’s when you finally saw him. 

A figure wrapped in black clothes stood before you as he breathed heavily. The only parts of him that were uncovered were his hair and hands, otherwise his face was covered by a black mask. 

You tried to get yourself to your feet, to scream at the sight of his presence, but he was much quicker. His hands were on you in seconds, one pinning you roughly to the floor while the other was held tightly against your lips.

Of course you struggled, but the figure kept you pinned with strength you could not match. You suddenly felt like the girl in the story your mother had just told you about.

Except this was real life. Either you would die here or you would be taken somewhere else.

With an idea forming into your mind, you slowly stopped struggling, letting your limbs fall to your side. The figure must have thought you were giving up because you could feel his grip loosening.

But he was wrong to think you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

In a quick motion, you moved to hit him on the head. But even with the element of surprise on your side he was still quicker. Instead you hand connected with his face, and in a moment of desperation, you grabbed onto the black mask covering his features.

The cloth ripped off of him, causing the two of you to freeze. He looked like a normal boy, maybe a few years older than you, but definitely no older than 12. His cheeks were soft while they were framed by his dishevelled black hair. But his eyes…

Despite their common brown colour, there was a hurricane of emotions hiding behind them. Anger, determination, fear and pain.

So, so much pain. 

The two of you locked gazes for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds.

Then the boy stood and began dragging you towards your window, which was now wide open. Once you were outside, no one would be able to save you. Your fate would be handed over to this unusual boy.

A sudden panic overtook your mind.

“Wait! Please,” you begged, your hands clawing at his grip on your arm with no success, “I’ll do anything, just please let me go!”

He ignored you, continuing to walk towards his exit with no plans of stopping. 

“Please,” you were crying at this point, “who are you? What do you want from me?”

At those questions, he paused for a moment before slowly turning to face your small figure. His eyes were once again on you, this time regarding your arms, then your clothes, and then lastly your eyes. 

If you were in your right mind, you might have noticed the shaky breath that escaped his lips, but you were too busy being terrified over where your future lay now. 

He took a bold step towards you, causing you to back away as much as his grip on your arm would let you.

“Who are we?” He asked, his voice steady. It was the only thing you could focus on without panicking before nodding slowly. 

He took another step towards you, “after today your life will never be the same.”

Another step.

“You’ll either live in fear, shivering in the shadows of darkness.”

One more.

“Or you’ll learn how to hide in them and use them to rise to the top.”

You felt your back bump against a wall, but he didn’t stop until his face was barely a breath away from your own.

“Either way, you’re ours now.

Because we see all, we know all, and we control all.”

15 Years Later

“There’s no way you don’t see it. You’re dumb, but not that dumb.”

Your back leaned against the mahogany bannister in a crouched state as your neck strained to continue focusing on Jimin, who was crouched on the other side of the staircase mulling over your words. He had wisely chosen to ignore the jab you had sent him, opting instead to shift uncomfortably in his place with his position mimicking your own. 

Instead of an actual response, he just scoffed, turning his head to look between the gaps of the bannister rather than your face. Despite it, you could imagine his expression clearly, furrowed eyebrows and a narrow gaze as he waited for your target. 

Fortunately for the two of you, the owner of the mansion you were in had decided to go for an open concept layout, giving the two of you maximum coverage of the whole ground floor from your vantage point at the top of the wooden stairs. That, paired with the isolated nature of his mansion, was just making it too easy. You could do this mission with your eyes closed.

Which made this a perfect opportunity to bring up this topic to Jimin. It was just as much frustrating as it was pleasing how unserious he was about it. 

“I’m just saying,” you began, hoping to get the conversation going once again, “if you guys dated, it would be good for your reputation within the Organisation and you’d be loaded for life.”

You had to push away the rotten feeling in your heart at the mention of Jimin dating someone. It was so pathetic, all these years pining for a man that had probably never looked at you as more than a sister. But you couldn't help it. It was like in those movies you've watched, where the character's heart fluttered at his every touch. Or when he called their name and all their problems seem to wither away. Or just the thought of him brought a smile to their face. 

As embarrassing as it was to admit, that was exactly how you were. It was always fine, because if you had learned one thing from your life, even before who you are now, it was how to hide things. Hiding your emotions had especially become your specialty. 

But things were changing. You were starting to watch him when he spoke for too long, you started longing for his attention a lot more now and not to mention an incident involving falling onto him during a mission where you felt like your heart would explode. You were getting bad at the one thing you thought you were good at. 

And it was starting to hurt. All those years of pining weren't really torture for you, for some reason it was easy to call it nothing more than a crush back then. Knowing you could never have him was simply a fact that you didn't mind. You had his friendship and friendship was all you needed. But now, his presence did things to you, and whatever it was, it was painful. Watching him laugh only reminded you that one day it'll be someone else's and listening to him talk about the future only reminded you that one day he wouldn't be in it. 

Which was why you had to do this. You had to put some kind of boundary between the two of you so that these unwelcome thoughts would leave. So that you could finally go a day without thinking about him or without wishing he was by your side all the time. 

And what better way than to find him a girlfriend?

Jimin’s face turned towards you once again as you adjusted the idle gun in your hands, gaze scanning your expression and then your finger resting comfortably on the trigger. You were used to it. You had been under his constant gaze ever since you were 9 after all. 

Finally he turned away, staring forward in an oddly tired way. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean no? She’s the daughter of our leader. If you two dated, even eventually got married, you’d have her father’s protection and money. You’d be set for life,” you argued, chest fluttering weirdly in the process. 

But Jimin simply shook his head. You watched him for a moment, noticing his tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows. He was a man of few words, you’d learned at least that much about him in the years you’d spent as mission partners. When something was on his mind, it took a little pushing to get him to open up. Since it was clear the mission couldn’t be what was bothering him, you guessed it was something else. 

“What is it?” you asked finally, gaze flickering towards the mansion’s front door in case your target showed up, “there’s something on your mind. Come on, tell me.”

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts in the process. Just because he didn’t talk much didn’t mean he was stupid. He was the complete opposite really. Every word that left his mouth was calculated, an immense amount of thought and intention behind every sentence.

Finally, he spoke up.

“Do you really think she likes me?”

The question felt like a hammer to your chest. Any hope you had of fostering a more intimate relationship with the man a metre or two away from you was crushed by the sliver of hope you could hear in his voice. Of course Jimin would want to date her. She was rich, gorgeous, and, most importantly of all, the daughter of the Organisation’s leader. Who wouldn’t?

You pushed down the jealousy threatening to make itself known.

“Yes, I’m very sure she does. So what’s stopping you?”

The digital watch on your wrist suddenly lit up, a coordinate flashing on the little map illustrated in black and white. The target was close, but not close enough to matter right now. 

Jimin’s gaze lifted from his own watch, pausing once again, “even if she did like me, which may not even be the case, her dad would probably put my head on a silver platter before he’ll let her date me.”

“To me it seems like her dad doesn’t really care about what she does,” you thought out loud, “besides, I doubt he’d stop one of the best assassins in the Organisation from being with his daughter. If anything, he’d be glad he doesn’t have to pay for her bodyguard anymore.”

You hated how much you wanted him to refuse. To say that the real reason was because he didn’t like her like that. But his next words crushed your heart once again.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll try to talk to her when I get the chance.”

You wanted to ask him whether he’d been secretly pining over her this whole time, but it would have to be in a joking manner so that it looked like it didn’t matter to you and you don’t think you could muster up that kind of energy. You could barely muster the fake smile you sent his way.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to actually say anything because right at that moment, the doors of the mansion burst open and your target stomped into the room. Immediately you and Jimin took your positions, one knee steadying yourselves while your hands steadied the gun aiming towards the target. He hadn’t noticed the two of you yet as he grabbed one of the vases on a coffee table and sent it crashing against the fireplace. 

Though his anger seemed especially exaggerated, it didn’t really matter. Your mission had already been assigned, and nowhere in the outline had it said to figure out why your target was in such a rotten mood. 

So without even a glance at each other, you and Jimin each sent a bullet flying towards the target, one slashing through his right arm, while the other through his right leg. The target stumbled to the ground, flailing around while yelling obscenities that would make a viking proud. 

But no matter how hard he yelled, the only people that could hear him were himself, Jimin and you. 

The two of you dropped from the staircase and nonchalantly made your way to his writhing form on the living room’s carpet. The red of his blood seeped into the red of his carpet, so much so that an untrained eye might not have even been able to spot it. 

“Mr. Kang,” Jimin announced. His voice when he addressed people during missions was low and authoritative, one of the only things that really scared you about him. Sometimes you could even see him leading the Organisation itself with that voice. If he started dating the leader’s daughter, would that eventually become a reality?

He continued, completely unaware of your wild thoughts, “you have betrayed the Organisation with your acts of treason, and for that, you have been sentenced to die.”

The man stared up in horror as he watched you walk up to his broken form and point your polished gun to his head. There was no one that could save him now, this was the end.

As if that realisation dawned on him, he suddenly calmed himself down. The whimpers that had been echoing around the living room ceased and he pulled himself into a somewhat sitting position.

That made you and Jimin look at each other in confusion. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he started, voice strained in pain, “they’ve made you mindless puppets only to be used for their own biddings. And when you finally stop benefiting them, they’ll throw you away the same way they’re throwing me away.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “you’re being thrown away because you’re a traitor.”

“How can I be a traitor when they betrayed me first? They promised me they’d keep him safe as long as I did their dirty work, but my years of service were rewarded with what? My own hands dirty with his blood.”

You looked over at Jimin to share your confusion but were surprised to see his shoulders tensed. He was looking at the man on the floor with an unreadable expression, but you could have sworn you caught some fear in his eyes. 

The man’s eyes widened as he seemed to catch onto Jimin’s expression too, “he knows, doesn’t he?!”

He crawled forward and grabbed Jimin’s hand, but Jimin surprisingly didn’t move, “you know what is to come! Let me go! Rebel! Run away! Do not serve them even a second of your ti–”

A loud bang suddenly reverberated across the living room, putting an end to the man’s rambling. There was a shocked expression on his face as blood dripped from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. In a matter of seconds, his body was slumped against the living room’s carpet and silence ensued. 

Jimin slowly put his gun back into his holster and started drenching the place in gasoline. But you stood, completely confused by the last 5 minutes. 

“What was that?” You finally asked, watching him drown the body in gas.

But Jimin remained silent as he continued quickly.

“He said something about they betraying him first… I’m assuming ‘they’ are the Organisation, but whose blood did he have on his hands? And why did he say you knew something?”

Jimin threw the empty tank of gasoline to the corner of the room and brought out a lighter, flicking it so that a small fire burst from the metal opening. He threw it to the ground, watching as the fire spread throughout the room. 

The two of you made it out of the mansion, watching as it crumbled to the ground in a mixture of fire and smoke. And yet after all that, he didn’t utter a word. It made you a little frustrated.

“Jimin, I’m asking you somethin–”

“It’s nothing,” He interrupted. His voice hadn’t even been loud, but there was a firmness in it that silenced you immediately, “ I don’t know what he was talking about when he said I knew something. I don’t know whose blood is on his hands and why it’s so important. He was likely just speaking nonsense.”

Both his gaze and voice was firm as he said his next words.

“But we have nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

It took you about a week after the whole incident to forget that man and his weird words, as well as Jimin and his even weirder behaviour. But your uneasiness didn’t leave that easily. You couldn’t quite forget the tenseness of Jimin’s shoulders and the fear you had picked up on in his expression for just a millisecond of a moment. 

‘He knows, doesn’t he?!’

Was Jimin really hiding something from you? It was hard to believe considering how close the two of you were growing up. Yes, Jimin was a quiet and relatively private person, but you’ve always thought that you knew him better than others. 

Had you been wrong?

And you couldn’t even begin to decipher the rest of the things the man had said. He was clearly against the Organisation because… they betrayed him? But how could the Organisation owe him anything? The Organisation owes nothing to anyone. Not to people like you. Not to the world.

��You know what is to come!’

Was something coming that the Organisation wasn’t aware about? Or was the Organisation planning something that you all, within the lower ranks of the Organisation, didn't know was coming?

You groaned, sending three bullets through the centres of the holographic targets in front of you. So much for forgetting that incident. 

And to your disappointment, Jimin hadn’t said a word about it at all since that day. Instead he continued to be his usual quiet self, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Though, you couldn’t help but notice his shoulders tense once or twice in your presence, like he was expecting you to say something. But ultimately, you knew that if he didn’t reveal anything that day, he wouldn’t reveal anything through begging. 

“Ms. Y/N,” a voice behind you called.

You turned around to see a man dressed in a business suit waiting for you at the entrance of the training room. He had sunglasses covering his eyes and a small black wire indicating the presence of an earpiece. Your eyebrows furrowed. 

You didn’t know who that was. 

The man bowed, ignoring your confusion.

“There is a mission briefing in room 314,” he announced, “please come with me.”

He started walking towards said room, but you hesitated. Mission briefings were announced through your earpieces, you’ve never been summoned through a person before. 

“I would advise that you pick up your pace, Ms. Y/N,” his voice came from the hallway, “we wouldn’t want to keep your partner waiting.”

The mention of Jimin had you groaning inwardly. He could very well be lying to lure you into the room and do whatever it was he, or his boss, was intending to do. But what could happen, anyway? This was the Organisation. They saw all, they knew all, and they controlled all. How could this man be doing anything against them in their own building?

So with those thoughts in mind, and also a little worry for Jimin, you started following the man to the room. It didn’t take long, one efficient elevator ride later had you entering a room labelled ‘314’ in no time.

It looked like any other briefing room, except it looked old. There was dust accumulating in its corners, an outdated television perched on the wall and a large desk in the middle of the room with empty chairs surrounding it. 

Your room scan finally revealed Jimin standing near the side, posture rigid and hands behind his back. It was how you all usually stood when talking to someone above you. 

“Please, take your position next to him,” a female voice called. 

You did as you were told before you looked in her direction, which was smart now that you had identified the source of the voice. 

The Leader’s daughter, Han Iseul, stood elegantly at the head of the room, just barely paying attention to the two of you as she sifted through a few documents in front of her. She was dressed in business casual clothes that hugged her skinny figure well while her makeup was sharp and precise. She was trying to be nonchalant, but you could see through her facade as easily as looking through water. When she wasn’t moving, you caught her stealing quick glances at Jimin here and then. 

You hadn’t been lying to Jimin when you said she had a crush on him, and this only confirmed that even more. It took a lot of self control to reel in your jealousy.

“I’ve called you here today to brief you on your new assignment,” she announced finally, placing the documents she had been reviewing before on the table in front of her, “I advise that you listen carefully.”

You’ve never heard of anyone being briefed by the Leader’s daughter before, it’s always been by your superiors who had direct contact with the Leader. They would always contact you through your earpiece, outlining the tasks you had to get done, and leave you and Jimin to do your job. It’s never been this excessive.

You suspected it might have had something to do with her little crush. Some sad attempt at getting closer to Jimin by briefing the two of you on one of your missions. She really must be whipped for him to pull something like this in such a strict organisation.

“The reason for the abnormality in your briefing today is due to the private nature of this mission,” she continued, eyeing the two of you, “this mission is to stay a secret even within the Organisation. The only ones you may mention it to are yourselves and me.”

“The task I am assigning you will require you to guard the transport of a particular cargo. The details of the cargo will not be provided, but it is imperative that this cargo make it to its destination. The transport itself will take about two days, both of which you will be on active duty. We will not risk transport at night, so the cargo will be transported to a secure location on the night between these two days.”

“Any questions?” She finally asked. 

When she didn’t get an answer she nodded, “you will leave in two hours. Please prepare your gear.”

With those words, she left the room, but not before stealing a glance at Jimin one last time. It made you want to throw a chair in her face, but you knew you had no right to.

Once she had fully left, you turned towards Jimin, who had been quiet this whole time.

“Cargo protection? Since when are we, aka assassins, responsible for protecting cargo?” 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been tasked with a mission that does not involve killing someone,” he said, checking his watch for the results of his gear checkup and inventory stock. Jimin’s always been a stickler for the rules. It’s why he’s one of the best assassins in the Organisation. 

“I’ll never understand why we get missions outside of our scope,” you huffed, deciding to check your own inventory. Even though the mission itself sounded stupid, Iseul had made it sound otherwise, so it must have been important. You weren’t dumb enough to be sloppy on a mission like this.

The corners of Jimin’s lips twitched in a slight smile, “I’ve already restocked your inventory and gotten your gear up to date. Just focus on not accidentally shooting the target’s sister again.”

“That was one time!” You huffed, feeling slightly offended, “besides, I doubt we’ll be shooting at anyone in this mission.”

“Lucky for you.”

You punched him in the arm, earning you an amused chuckle. The sound had butterflies swirling in your stomach until a sudden thought struck them all down.

“So… you and Iseul must have waited a while for me,” you began, dreading the answer to your question already, “did you guys talk about anything?”

The room quieted before Jimin answered your question.

“Yes, we talked a bit.”

Your eyes widened and without thinking you blurted out, “wait, seriously?” 

You don’t know why that came as such a big surprise to you, he had agreed with the whole dating thing after all. But Jimin saying something and Jimin actually doing something were two different things. And now that something was actually happening, you couldn’t help but feel even worse than before.

“Nothing too specific,” he said, not giving much detail. But that’s the type of boyfriend you expected him to be, private when it came to his relationships, “just general stuff.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him what ‘general’ meant. Did he mean general small talk? Or general dating stuff? Is that why Iseul was looking at him so much during the briefing? Did she realise that she finally had a chance with him? Or did Jimin already confess that he was willing to start a relationship with her? Were they already a couple?

You felt your throat start to close and tears prick the back of your eyes. 

Silly girl. Didn’t I tell you boys were not worth the time of day?

It’s been a while since your mother’s voice has made an appearance in your head. In fact, it’s been a while since you’ve even thought about her at all. She was a distant memory. You could barely even remember her face. But her words have never left your mind, and right now was proof of that.

“Y/N?” 

You looked up at Jimin, who was looking at you with a concerned expression. He must have been elated, knowing he would eventually become the husband of the Leader’s daughter. And here you were, a pathetic girl with a pathetic school girl crush. 

“I’m going to go double check my gear,” you managed to get out before making your way out of the room. 

You just hoped your voice didn’t betray how vulnerable your heart was. 

The breeze lashed at your hands and shoulders as you sped on your motorcycle at the first sign of dusk. In front of you stretched an empty highway owned specifically by the Organisation, while on your left was the truck carrying the cargo you had been tasked to protect. Outside of your view you knew Jimin, who was speeding on a motorcycle similar to yours, was likely on the other side of the truck. 

The two of you had been on the road for hours, silently taking in the scenery that zoomed by you. Missions usually weren’t like this. Usually, you’d be raving about the storyline of the new movie or television show you were watching recently while Jimin tried to understand with an amused expression.

But tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to say much of anything. Iseul and Jimin’s relationship had only just started, and you already felt like a truck had run you over. You couldn’t imagine how it would be when they started getting more serious.

You shook your head in frustration, trying to get the thoughts out of your mind. Since when did you become that girl that was head over heels over a man? Why was it so hard for you to let him go?

“To your right,” you heard Jimin’s voice through your earpiece. For a second you thought he was alerting you of an attack, but when you looked to your right, you watched a bunch of horses running across an empty field together. It was enough to bring a smile to your face, watching them gallop freely. 

What must it feel like to be free?

“The holding facility is just a few metres ahead,” the voice of the cargo’s driver spoke from your earpiece, “once the cargo is safely transported there, the two of you can go on break until morning.”

You could hear Jimin’s voice agree along with yours as all three vehicles turned towards the highway’s exit. The more you all continued forward, the thicker the trees beside the road started to get until you and Jimin were forced to ride behind the truck. 

A few more metres later, a large facility appeared within the thicket of the forest, hidden well to anyone that wasn’t looking for it. Either way, a large metal gate stood between you three and the facility, ensuring no one could get inside unless they had clearance. 

All three vehicles came to a stop in front of the gate simultaneously. 

“I’ll send the message to headquarters that we’ve made it so that they unlock the gate and then I have to manually open it, so wait here and guard the cargo until I get back,” the truck’s driver said. You could feel his end of the line go silent as the truck’s door closed and he started making his way to a control panel that was likely out of sight. 

That left you and Jimin standing awkwardly next to each other as you waited for the driver to come back. You don’t think the two of you have ever been this uncomfortable with each other. 

Jimin seemed especially conflicted as his eyes flickered to your form every few seconds. Sometimes he’d open his mouth to say something, only to close it once again. 

It was literal torture, and after a few minutes, you just couldn’t take it anymore. 

You scanned the now dark area, desperate to do something other than marinate in the awkwardness. The trees surrounding you were endless and the sky exhibited a few interesting stars, but it was when you looked in front of you that you got an idea. 

“Let’s look inside,” you said suddenly, pointing towards the cargo.

Jimin, who initially seemed surprised by the fact that you spoke to him, processed your words with a horrified face, “what?” 

“Let’s see what’s inside this thing,” you repeated, slapping the giant metal crate, causing Jimin to flinch. You might have laughed at his horrified expression if you weren’t in such a sour mood. 

“Y/N, we can’t do that,” he hissed, reaching towards your arm to pull you away from the truck, but you dodged him easily. 

“We’re literally risking our lives protecting this thing, the least they can do is let us see what’s inside.”

“And what if they catch us?”

You shrugged, already working on the giant latch. Jimin tried to pull you down once again, but with no luck. 

“I mean it Y/N,” he said more firmly, “they could kill us.”

“Relax, I’ll take full blame for it if we do,” you replied, finally getting the latch off. 

“I don’t care about myself, I care about–” 

His voice faltered as the door of the crate finally swung open. It was dark, too dark to accurately make out what exactly was inside. Jimin felt his heart drop as you took a step into the metal box. 

“Y/N–” he tried again, but his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and the crate’s contents could finally be deciphered.

“They’re… weapons?” You said, confusion clearly laced in your tone. 

The crate was stuffed with different kinds of weapons: guns, grenades, daggers, you name it. There had to be at least thousands of them, all neatly stacked so that no space was wasted within the crate. 

“What could they possibly need so many weapons for?” You thought out loud, scanning them all. 

The Organisation was not in need of any more weapons at all, which meant a restock was out of the question. So why were they transporting so many weapons?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy steps against the concrete. 

The driver was back.

You heard Jimin curse under his breath as he gently pushed you towards the crate’s door, “get it closed, I’ll distract him.”

Without another warning, he quickly made his way to the side of the truck, stopping the driver in his tracks with a conversation you couldn’t quite hear. But it didn’t matter as you struggled to get the heavy latch closed. 

“Dude we have to get this done before HQ thinks there’s something up,” you heard the annoyed voice of the driver get louder as he got closer to the back of the truck. 

Your arms tried to force the latch down so that it could lock again, but it wouldn’t budge. Only now were you starting to panic. When you turned to the side, the front of the driver’s shoe peeked from the corner of the crate. One step. Just one step more was all the driver had to take to see your form near an unlocked crate, simultaneously signing your death certificate in the process. 

“Wait!” Jimin suddenly yelled. 

The driver paused, looking back at him with confusion. You could still see his shoes around the corner, but with newfound adrenaline, you finally shoved the latch down, allowing it to lock in place. 

Your shoes just barely touched the ground when the driver turned the corner. He first scanned the crate, then you, and then Jimin, who looked like he had gone through ten different heart attacks in the span of a minute. 

“What the hell is going on here?” He asked, picking up on something odd. 

But you only shrugged, “I was peeing in the bushes and I guess Jimin wanted to save your eyes.”

The driver immediately scoffed in disgust.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” he said, getting back into the driver’s seat and driving the crate into the gates. 

Jimin was scowling at you, but it was nice not being the only one in a bad mood. 

“There’s a town nearby, let’s find a hotel there.”

Turns out the mentioned town was actually experiencing some kind of holiday, which meant crowds upon crowds of people swarmed the place. The good news was that crowds meant a less likely chance that you and Jimin would ever be remembered. The bad news was that the place was so crowded you two could only book a single hotel room for yourselves. 

Thankfully, the room itself was a suite, so the bedroom was separate from the common room, but that meant only one person could sleep on a bed. Considering the heart attack you gave Jimin earlier, you had insisted he take it, but Jimin, being the predictable man he was, wouldn’t have it. 

That left you staring up at the ceiling from the stiffly made bed while Jimin laid on the sofa in the common room. 

Despite the moonlight that shone into your dark room through the window curtains and the lulling sounds of the wall clock and AC, you couldn’t sleep. You’ve always had an issue with sleeping thanks to nightmares and likely some insomnia, but tonight seemed especially bad. Although you could usually sneak in a few minutes of sleep every hour or two, you could barely even manage to close your eyes now. 

You blamed Jimin, particularly his face, for your lack of sleep. Every time you felt your eyes close, you could see him staring back at you with his kind brown eyes and black parted hair. You could even remember him when you first met him, eyes wild with untamed emotions and long black hair. He had grown up so much since you met him, into someone that was intelligent but mature. Gentle but ruthless. Quiet but authoritative. It was his duality that you liked about him, because despite his extremes, he was still balanced. 

The mattress creaked under your weight as you shifted, eyes still focused on the ceiling. You couldn’t keep having thoughts like this if Jimin was going to start dating someone else. It would be unfair to him and his significant other, not to mention if Iseul found out about your feelings you have no doubt she’d have her father end you in a matter of seconds. You couldn’t tell whether it was funny or pathetic how the fear of death amounted to nothing in the face of hurting Jimin and his happiness. 

The sound of the door creaking open had you jerking upwards and reaching for the gun under your pillow, but you paused when you noticed Jimin’s hand on the door knob.

At the sight of you awake, he seemed to sigh in relief. 

“What is it?” You asked, as he made his way to the side of your bed. 

“Come on,” he said while his hand gently wrapped around your arm and pulled you up, “let’s watch a movie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t give you a chance to protest as he guided you to the common room. When you made it to the television, you noticed two bowls of popcorn already sitting on the coffee table and the red and black colours of Netflix exhibited on the screen. 

Jimin let you down on the couch with your legs crossed before settling on the ground in front of it. You could feel his shoulder brush against your knee softly, and it took everything in you to keep the butterflies at bay. 

“Pick something,” he said, handing you the remote. Your body was on autopilot now, mindlessly shifting through movies and shows you had watched a bunch of times already. 

When you didn’t pick anything for a while, mostly because you were focusing more on pretending Jimin’s shoulder wasn’t pressing against your knee, he frowned.

“You’re mad at me.”

You felt yourself tense as he turned to look at you. 

“I don’t like it when you're mad at me.”

Your gaze couldn’t meet his, opting to continue looking through the Netflix catalogue instead. But Jimin gently took the remote from your hands, forcing your gaze back to him.

Why are you mad at me?

You could practically hear his next words, but to your surprise, his question was different from the one you were expecting.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

The scoff left you before you could stop it. Of course you remembered the most traumatic day of your life. 

“You mean the day you kidnapped me?” You deadpanned. 

Your tone had been more humorous than accusatory, but Jimin looked like you had shoved a knife in his chest. He nodded weakly, and it suddenly dawned on you that maybe that day had been just as traumatic for him as it had been for you. 

“That had been the day I had finally finished my first stage of training,” he started, looking straight ahead at the screen idly, “they used to have this mini ceremony when that happened, kind of like a kindergarten graduation. They gave me some cake. Told me that I would grow up to be useful to the Organisation. There was just one little thing I had to do.”

His shoulders tensed again, “I had to kidnap you from your home and bring you to the Organisation.”

“And despite not knowing what they would do to you, whether they would kill you or force you to join them, I agreed.”

His gaze fell to his hands, “your mother had never let you outside of the boundaries of your home a day in your life, like some real-life Rapunzel. I doubt she expected anyone to even know about your existence. It had been so easy to just break into your room one night, grab you and take you back to the Organisation.”

Jimin turned back to you, the moonlight illuminating the pain in his expression, “Y/N, you deserve someone better than me. Someone that doesn’t make selfish decisions. Someone that didn’t doom you to this life.” 

Your eyes were wide at his words. Despite this entire confession, there was only one thing that you could say.

“You know?” You realised incredulously, “you know about my feelings?”

You didn’t need an answer, it was already written all over his face. He was begging you to forget him, to ‘find someone better.’ This whole time he’s known while you had naively believed that you had been hiding your emotions from him successfully. You couldn’t tell whether you were embarrassed by that or just purely in shock. 

After the initial reaction wore off, and you could process what he was saying a little better, you furrowed your eyebrows, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be stuck in this organisation, forced to kill and stay obedient. You could’ve had a life, Y/N, but I took it away from you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what life? Another decade trapped in the confines of my mother’s home? Knowing her, I doubt she would’ve let me out of there anytime soon. Besides, if you had refused, they would have just gotten someone else to do it. I’m glad I at least got someone like you, who's been with me and supported me every step of the way.”

But Jimin still shook his head, barely hearing a word you were saying. You never realised just how deeply he still thought about that whole ordeal. Aside from a few nightmares every now and then, you didn’t think about it much anymore. You had already suspected that Jimin had been forced into it, so you had never even held it against him either. But it was clear it was still a big deal for him. 

You sighed.

“What about before the Organisation?”

Jimin let a hand run through his hair, reliving the memories of his childhood, “I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember. I jumped between a lot of foster homes and orphanages, but ultimately I ran away. Even the streets were better than most of those places. The Organisation managed to grab me when I was living there. Obviously since I didn’t have a family no one really cared, so I guess I made a perfect target.”

You tilted your head, “and you’re still going on and on about being selfish and dooming me? You were a child they had taken advantage of. If you had refused to kidnap me, you would have failed that task. And we all know what happens when you fail a task in the Organisation.”

The faces of numerous children you had grown up with came to mind, all of which had failed in some way or another, and all of which had never been seen again. The Organisation wasn’t just some teaching school that reprimanded you when you did wrong. It was unforgiving and bloodthirsty, and even the youngest of children knew that.

Jimin’s gaze remained forward as you let him swim in his own thoughts for a moment. You hoped he was at least starting to let go of the guilt that’s been seemingly eating away at him for years. It hurt to see him in so much pain.

“I should’ve stopped them.”

“Then you’d be dead.”

“I should’ve refused them.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N.”

“That’s my decision to make, don’t you think?”

He was silent once again, watching the different shows flash on the screen. You could still see his shoulders tensed and a pained expression on his face. Though he might have been slightly convinced, you could tell he still felt uneasy. 

Slowly, you sank down to the floor next to him, earning you a confused look. But before he could refuse, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him closer to you in the process. Jimin paused for a moment, clearly surprised by the sudden action, but after a moment, you felt his arms hesitantly surround your form as well. 

“You’re the only reason I’m still alive today, Jimin. I would have never been able to survive the Organisation’s training if you hadn’t spent day and night teaching me. You’ve always been by my side every step of the way, not just as a partner, but as a friend. So please don’t hurt yourself with guilt, you have nothing to be guilty for.”

You felt Jimin pull you closer as he rested his head on top of yours. It was almost desperate, like he was afraid you’d disappear at any moment. 

“I like you too, you know that?” He said suddenly, “no matter how crazy you drive me sometimes, I’ll always care about you. I promise.”

You pushed yourself off him, scanning his face with wide eyes, “But what about Iseul? Didn’t you guys… talk? Don’t you like her?”

Jimin chuckled, “no, we did not talk and no, I do not like her.”

“Then why did you say you did?”

His expression became sad as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear delicately, “because as much as we both want this, it can’t happen.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, letting silence engulf the moonlit living room. He wasn’t wrong. The Organisation had banned any romantic or sexual relationships between members a long time ago, and breaking those rules unsurprisingly resulted in the punishment of death. Jimin’s confession changed nothing.

But that didn’t make his confession meaningless. If it wasn’t for the Organisation, the two of you could have had a life together. You could have loved each other freely, under no one’s terms. For the first time in a long time you felt a familiar anger towards the Organisation. For stealing you away from your home, and forcing you to do their dirty work while staying obedient to their rules. You were nothing but their slave, and one step out of line would cost you your life without a second thought. 

And the worst part was that there was nothing you could do about it. The organisation didn’t lie when they said they saw, knew and controlled everything. It was terrifying how deep their branches ran in the network of society. They lurked in the shadows of the law, swam in the dealings of businesses, controlling them quietly while people went about their lives cluelessly. They could probably watch the two of you right now if they wanted to, with no repercussions whatsoever. 

You didn’t realise your hand had curled into a shaking fist until Jimin’s fingers brushed against it slowly. He let his fingers interlace with yours, calmly caressing the back of your palm with his thumb. 

“It’s unfair,” you said, like a child throwing a tantrum, but Jimin only nodded his head. 

“I mean, why us? There are so many people in this world living their own lives, completely unaware of the Organisation's mere existence. Yet, we had to be one of the few unfortunate people stuck under their cruelty. Where’s our justice?”

Jimin pulled you into his arms once again. He had no words of comfort for you, but then again, what comfort could you give two birds in a cage when you knew they had no chance of escape. There was no justice for people like you. The ones who worked in the shadows died in the shadows after all. 

Your eyes widened as you suddenly felt his lips brush against your forehead lightly, causing your stomach to do backflips. Even though it was only for a brief moment, they felt so soft and loving on your skin that you knew you’d forever remember this moment for the rest of your life. 

But his kiss didn’t just feel like an act of comfort, it also felt like a little act of rebellion. Like it didn’t matter that the Organisation had banned relationships because Jimin was choosing to kiss you anyway. It made you selfishly happy, despite the risk it posed for the two of you. 

You jumped out of Jimin’s arms, happy to see a similar smile perched on his lips as you grabbed the remote. 

“Funny but wholesome, with a side of angst,” you announced, “I know exactly what we need.”

You sifted through a few titles before clicking on one of the best movies of all time.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched the loading screen pop up, “is that a panda? Are we going to watch some kid’s show?”

But you simply covered his mouth with your hand as you grabbed one of the popcorn bowls and  leaned your head against his shoulder. 

“Do not attempt to put down Kung Fu Panda, it will only bring you dishonour and shame.”

Jimin shook his head with a chuckle as he pulled you closer into him. What you didn’t know was that he didn’t really care what you put on the large screen. 

In the end, his focus would be on you every time.

 

The next morning, the two of you were back on the road speeding through the freeway. The landscape had changed from grassy lands and animal farms to vast fields of beige dirt and rocky mountains. As if reflecting the sorry state of the scenery, the weather was also dreary, with thick grey clouds and the smell of a thunderstorm brewing. It didn’t seem to be an immediate threat, but you made a note to keep an eye on it in case it became an obstacle to the transport. 

While yesterday was filled with awkward silence, today’s silence was comfortable and calm. Images of last night flashed in your mind once in a while, of Jimin’s arms around you and his soft lips against your temple. Even though it made you as giddy as a school girl, you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about it. 

But there was also this new feeling of grief weaving through the muscles of your heart, weighing your limbs down so that every movement took just a little more effort than before. It was the mourning of what could have been that brought on such a response. Of the life you and Jimin could have had if you both weren’t shackled to the Organisation in inescapable iron chains. You’d learned to live with the reality of your fate, but now that you knew the value of what they had truly taken away from you, you were finding it harder and harder to maintain such a mindset.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the driver, who announced your arrival at the final destination. The facility that finally came into view was almost identical to the facility you all had stopped at last night, except this one was at least three times larger. As the three vehicles approached the gate, you watched it automatically open, allowing the three of you to drive through effortlessly. 

Once you made it inside the facility itself, the driver bid you both farewell, turning to drop off the cargo wherever he had been instructed to. There was no reason to meet up again considering your task was done, so it was safe to say you wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon. 

That left you and Jimin standing idly in the centre of the warehouse, in awe at its size and the diversity in equipment surrounding the two of you. The walls were lined with dozens of giant computers, while the corners were filled with tables holding various blueprints and documents. 

It was a little… messy compared to the Organisation’s normally strict and organised style. The computers were all mismatched and some of the documents had even fallen to the floor. They would never be so careless with their equipment. 

“We should get going,” Jimin said, taking in the unusual setup as well. But following the rules had always come more naturally to him than you. 

Then again, it was important that assassins be ready for the next mission immediately after completing one. And with the intimate moment that happened last night, you were thinking maybe you shouldn’t test the Organisation’s patience too much. 

You sighed, trudging reluctantly behind Jimin as he started making his way towards the exit. Your mind was whirling with theories that attempted to explain what was going on here and why. The only explanation you had was that they were in a hurry responding to something, causing them to be hasty in their actions. Could this tie into what your target in the mansion had said? Was there really something coming? But then why would he tell the two of you to rebel and run away? Was he indicating that this would be the only opportunity to do it?

Jimin pulled the large door open, waiting for you to pass through, and you were about to do just that when your gaze suddenly caught a flash of light near the corner of the room, hidden behind one of the computers. Even though it was dull, it was still bright and enough to trigger your curiosity. 

Jimin’s gaze followed your own until it landed on the light as well. His expression suddenly aged like 10 years on the spot. 

“Y/N, no.”

But you were already walking through the concrete floor, determined to figure out the source of such an abnormality. As you got closer, another computer came into view, bigger and more importantly, already turned on. The dull light had been coming from its screen. 

Jimin’s eyes widened at the discovery, “what are you going to do, break into their computer? We should leave, Y/N.”

“It’s not ‘breaking in’ if the computer is already on,” you reasoned, “besides, don’t you want to know what’s going on here?”

He just shook his head, “we could get in trouble for this.”

Before you could reply, the screen suddenly dulled, indicating that it would turn off in a few seconds. You rushed to it and moved around the mouse, causing the screen to brighten once again. 

With the mouse underneath your fingers, you couldn’t help but snoop around the files a bit, opening them at random to look for anything interesting. Despite his earlier words, Jimin peeked from behind your shoulder, scanning the contents of the screen. You had to ignore the press of his body against your back. 

After one particular click, you noticed a file that seemed a lot larger than the rest. When you opened it, you felt your eyebrows furrow. 

Dozens of blueprints began to fill the screen. At first, you couldn’t recognise what they were illustrating, but then you started to notice a few familiar layouts here and there. 

“They’re blueprints for the Organisation’s building,” you muttered.

You clicked another file that revealed all the timetables of the Organisation’s higher ups down to even the Leader. Next to every name that popped up were red flashing letters spelling ‘optimal timings.’ Curious, you clicked on one of them.

Your eyes widened when a full page suddenly popped up. Within it were all the timings in which the Leader was vulnerable in one way or another: when he dismissed his bodyguards, when he was in public, when he was alone, etc. And every timing was accompanied by the most efficient ways to kill him. You clicked through all the other red inscriptions, taking in the well-thought out and very achievable schemes that could very much have all the higher ups of the Organisation dead. 

“They’re planning a hit on all the Organisation’s higher ups,” Jimin concluded, “but why would the Organisation want to harm itself like that.”

You thought back to the unusual way you and Jimin had been summoned for this mission. 

‘The reason for the abnormality in your briefing today is due to the private nature of this mission.’

‘This mission is to stay a secret even within the Organisation.’

“Because it’s not the Organisation that’s planning all this,” you realised, “it’s Han Iseul, the Leader’s own daughter.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, letting the discovery fully process in your mind. It was the only explanation that made sense, at least to you. But why? The only thing you knew about the Leader’s daughter was that she was largely ignored by the Leader and the Organisation. She didn’t really have any responsibilities, but being the Leader’s daughter, she had an image of purity and power to uphold so that her father didn’t look weak. Maybe she was tired of being nothing but a puppet? You knew you could relate to that. 

You turned towards Jimin, “is this what the man in the mansion had been talking about? What you knew about, but didn’t tell me.”

No.

He hadn’t said anything, but the answer was written all over his face. Jimin looked just as shocked and confused as you did, which had you even more confused than before. There were just too many things happening right now, too many mysteries popping up just as old ones were uncovered. You’re pretty sure your head was hurting from all the thinking you were putting it through. 

But then you realised the weight of your discovery. The Leader’s daughter was staging a coup of some sort in the Organisation. Whether it would be successful or not, it was clearly going to be a big event, one the Organisation wouldn’t see coming. What if you and Jimin could take advantage of that? During all the chaos and battling, what if…

“What if we ran away?” You whispered, as if afraid the Organisation would hear you if you spoke any louder. 

Jimin’s face snapped towards you in surprise. The mere thought of defying the Organisation had you shaking down to the bone, and you were sure he was no stranger to the fear you were experiencing right now. But this could be your ticket to freedom, an opportunity to finally be free from the clutches of the Organisation and their tyranny. 

If not then, it would be never. 

You watched Jimin’s mouth open only for it to close when a buzzing sound came from your earpiece. 

“L/N Y/N, announce your presence,” a stern automated voice stated. 

You internally groaned, knowing the Organisation already had a mission ready for you. 

Your response was in harmony with Jimin’s as he also confirmed his presence, no doubt hearing the Organisation in his own earpiece as well. The two of you stood idly, waiting for the outline of your new assignment.

“Your next mission will consist of the following task,” the stern voice continued, completely devoid of emotion, “Within the next half an hour, beginning at the exact moment this call ends, you must eliminate your target and dispose of the body effectively. Your target is as assigned:”

There was a pause as the database searched for the target that had been assigned to you, before your heart dropped.

“Park Jimin.”

The familiar click of the line going dead had never sounded so deafening in your ears. Your limbs were still with tension as you tried to process words that felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating the last remnants of any breath left in your lungs. 

‘Park Jimin’

You had to kill Park Jimin

The man that’s been there for you since day one, the reason you're standing here today. Your assignment was to end his life so that you could never gaze upon him again. 

You slowly turned to Jimin, expecting his expression to mirror your own. But instead, his lips were pulled into a taut line while his gaze was aimed straight ahead of him. That was when you realised that Jimin’s expression wasn’t that of shock, it was one of resignation. 

He knew. This is what he had been hiding, what he had known and kept from you this whole time. You wanted to ask him so many questions. How did he know? Why was this happening?

But you could only force out one sentence.

“I have to kill you.”

Jimin’s gaze lifted to your face, and you realised his eyes were drowning in unshed tears. When he spoke, it was hesitant and full of suffering.

“I have to kill you too.”

While your earpiece had called for Jimin’s assassination, his had called for yours. It was clear now that the Organisation wanted a battle. They wanted you and Jimin to fight to the death, and only the successor would be allowed to continue serving them till they too met their end. 

You didn’t know why the Organisation had made the decision. Was it because of last night? Was it because of your mention of running away? 

But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? The plan was over. If one of you weren’t dead in the next 28 minutes, both of you would be killed for your failure. You couldn’t wait for Iseul’s coup to run away anymore. 

It was over. 

You brought out your dagger, an unfamiliar tremor making it hard to hold it firmly. Jimin was the better fighter of the two of you, there was no doubt that it would be your body buried today. The thought of death terrified you, but somehow, dying by Jimin’s blade didn’t seem as scary. At least he would live, even if life under the Organisation was just another form of death itself. You’d gladly give your life if it meant Jimin could live on. 

But a battle is what the Organisation wanted, and just like everything else, a battle is what the Organisation had to get.

You lunged, swinging your dagger straight towards Jimin’s neck. His hand was on his own dagger in a matter of a second and, just as you expected, he deflected your attack easily with the swing of his arm. You expected him to target your armed hand while you jumped back, but instead, he went for your torso, which you dodged easily. 

The next 10 minutes were spent in a dance of dodges and attacks. Anytime your blade came close to even nicking his skin, you felt your heart beat in fear as you quickly changed the trajectory of your dagger. The sound of daggers clanging against each other reverberated around the warehouse, but the red of spilt blood never came.

Your eyebrows furrowed as another one of Jimin’s attacks failed to even scratch your skin. You didn’t understand what was taking him so long to end this. There wouldn’t be much time left to take care of the body within the Organisation's time limit, yet, his attacks were uncoordinated and weak while his dodges were reluctant. 

You went for another attack with your dagger pointed straight towards his ribcage, expecting him to dodge it easily, but Jimin angled his dagger in the opposite direction. Instead of your dagger being deflected into the space to his right, your dagger deflected to his left. You watched in horror as your dagger plunged into the side of his arm before you could pull away.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You jerked your blade back so that it couldn’t dig any deeper into his skin. His blood dripped from the silver tip to the dusty warehouse’s ground, creating a small pool of blood. 

Jimin’s blood.

You’ve been exposed to blood and gore since you were a child and then all throughout your life, but the sight of his blood already had your stomach churning uneasily. 

Aside from a small grimace, Jimin’s expression was unreadable. No anger. No resentment. Just a slight downturn of the corner of his lips, the one he always made when he was in pain. 

Before you could yell at him, Jimin raised his blade and swung towards your shoulder. Sudden panic took over as you raised your dagger to dodge it so that his blade would deflect to the side of your shoulder. Instead, as Jimin’s dagger clanged against yours, he twisted his wrist, literally disarming himself with your blade. 

His weapon clattered to the ground not too far away from your figure, yet he made no effort to retrieve it. Only then did you realise that he hadn’t been putting effort into this fight as a whole. None of his attacks were legitimate and his dodges were just barely keeping him alive. 

Jimin was letting himself lose. 

“No.”

You grabbed his blade from the ground and shoved it into his hand, but Jimin just let it drop to the floor. A sudden burst of anger flared in your chest as you watched his attempt at giving up. 

“Why aren’t you fighting me?” 

You grabbed the dagger once again and tried to make him take it, but the dagger clattered to the ground once again. 

“Why aren’t you fighting me, Park Jimin?!” You yelled, shoving his shoulder. He didn’t even stumble from the action, instead he just stood silently, watching your anger slowly rise.

You went to shove him again, only for his hand to enclose around your wrist and pull you closer, causing you to crash into his chest. A warmth you couldn't quite explain spread all around you as his arms suddenly surrounded your form. If it was possible for a heart to be ripped into two, you were sure you could feel it happening in your chest. Jimin’s warmth was just as comforting as it was heartbreaking, and soon you felt your anger morph into sobs. Your tears started to stain his uniform, but Jimin made no attempt to push you away. 

“We both know who the winner of this fight is, so just get it over with,” you whispered against his chest, praying for it to be quick. But Jimin shook his head. 

“Last time I checked, I’m the one that’s disarmed and injured,” he whispered back. You immediately dropped your weapon and let your hand stroke his injured arm. The cut wasn’t deep enough to be anything major, and yet it felt like your own arm was ripping apart at the sight of it. 

“Please,” you begged in desperation, “there isn’t much time left.”

“You’re right.”

Jimin grabbed the abandoned dagger from the ground and placed it in your hand, enclosing his own fingers around yours so that the dagger couldn’t clatter to the floor. You watched in confusion as he sank to his knees in front of you and then sobbed as he brought the dagger closer to him until it was right next to his neck. You tried to pull away, but his firm grip on your hand wouldn’t let you. 

“I knew that they would give us these orders one day,” he began while letting his other hand squeeze your unoccupied palm gently, “Before I had to kidnap you, I wasn’t that great at following the rules, and because of that I ended up overhearing an unspoken tradition that went on in the Organisation. Usually, they made partners fight to the death after years of service so that only the best stayed in the Organisation.”

“After you became my partner I realised that I didn’t want to participate in such a tradition. So after a little snooping around, I managed to hear about one or two instances where each partner was so good that the Organisation didn’t want to lose even one of them, so they had decided not to make them kill each other. I thought I could train us to be that good, so that we wouldn’t have to go through this, but I guess I messed up somewhere.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That, in the end, all the blame fell on the Organisation. That you were thankful for him and everything he’s done for you. But the words stuck in your throat as you continued to sob. 

Jimin brought the dagger closer to his neck, “I’m sorry baby, you’ll need to continue without me from now on.”

Tears continued to stream down your cheeks, “no, no, please, don’t make me do this.”

“I know it’s going to be hard, but I promise you’ll overcome it quickly,” he continued with damp eyes and a pained smile, “you just have to push this dagger forward and it’ll all be over.”

You shook your head repeatedly, unable to speak because of your closed throat. What he was asking was impossible. You could never even think of doing it. 

“It’s okay,” Jimin stopped squeezing your palm so that he could hold your hand instead, grip still strong in his other as he ensured your hand was clasped around the dagger, “you can do it. Just one push and it’s all over, I promise.”

You knew why he was so adamant about you being the one to kill him. 

‘You must eliminate your target and dispose of the body effectively.’

To successfully accomplish the task, or in other words end up not getting killed by the Organisation, one of you had to kill the other. Any other form of death wouldn’t be accepted. 

But if Jimin expected you to actually be able to go through with this, he was mistaken. You don’t think your hand could move in such a way even if you tried to command it. Jimin had been by your side for years. He’s the only one that’s genuinely ever cared for you, even taking your life before the Organisation into account. If you were being honest with yourself, you loved him. And although you would do anything for him, you couldn’t do this. No matter how much he wanted you to do it. 

Jimin must have taken your silence for acceptance because you felt his grip slowly loosen so that you could push the dagger forward. But the second he did, you pulled the dagger out of his grasp and threw it far away from you. It felt like a hot iron had been removed from your hand. 

You dropped to your knees in front of him, mimicking his position as a look of surprise took over his expression.

You knew you could never willingly kill Jimin and you knew Jimin would never willingly kill you. And ironically, that would just result in the Organisation killing you both. If the two of you were technically already dead…

Why not try something crazy?

Jimin cupped your face gently, letting his thumbs brush the tears from your cheeks. You spoke up before he could change your mind. 

“What if we ran away?” 

The question was an echo from the conversation you had earlier, only this time the chance of success was much lower. In fact, there was probably no chance at all and even Jimin knew it.

“There’s no distraction, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head, “the Organisation is focused on us now. There’s no way we can get away with it.”

“But what if we can,” you countered, “think about it. The Organisation abducted us all when we were children, in other words, young and gullible. They’ve drilled the idea into our minds that they cannot be defeated and are all-powerful ever since then so that none of us would ever dare to go against them even when we got older. But what if that’s not how it really is? What if… they're not as powerful as they say they are?”

You knew that wasn’t entirely true. The Organisation was powerful, and you’ve seen the proof of that with your own eyes. But the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. They’ve always used fear as a weapon for obedience, especially when you were children. It’s why you felt yourself shake at the mere thought of rebelling and why the thought has never even crossed your mind. Without fear, how much power did they really have?

Jimin’s gaze was focused on you as he mulled over your words. 

“We’re not going to kill each other, we both know neither of us can do it. So why not just take a chance? We’re dead anyway. Maybe this way we could actually have a life together.”

The chances of that were very low, and you knew Jimin knew that as well. But you were surprised to eventually see a slight nod in his head. 

“We have 5 minutes left,” he announced, referring to the amount of time left before the Organisation would come and finish the task that they had called for. 

He stood, pulling you along with him, but his hand didn’t leave yours even when you were standing upright beside him. 

“We’ll take our bikes and start heading North. I think I have an idea of where we should go,” he picked up both the daggers and handed you yours, “we’ll have to cut out our trackers.”

You nodded, already expecting as much. 

Jimin took your arm in his hands while you took his. The trackers were cut out and thrown to the floor in a matter of seconds, both of you hissing a bit at the slight sting of your cuts. But they weren’t deep, and that’s all that mattered. 

After ditching your earpieces as well, the two of you hastily made your way out of the warehouse to find a storm thrashing at the rocky terrain. The initially dry and dusty landscape was now damp due to the merciless rain and the roads seemed dangerously slippery. Thankfully, the weather would make it harder for the Organisation to track your motorcycle trails. 

This time, the two of you wordlessly hopped onto a single motorcycle rather than separate ones. Aside from the rain, one motorcycle would be a lot harder to track than two. You let Jimin drive, opting instead to wrap your arms around him from behind as he sped through the road at the cycle’s maximum speed. Rather than feel fazed by the speed, you could only feel comfort in Jimin’s warmth. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself back there,” Jimin chuckled, which made you raise an eyebrow.

You chuckled along with him, “since when were you so brazen?” 

“Since the Organisation isn’t holding me back now.”

It made you feel better that you weren’t the only one harbouring some intense feelings all these years. Even though they didn’t get very intense until the last few years, it still sucked sometimes thinking that they were unrequited. But knowing that Jimin felt the same kind of made those times worth it, in a weird unexplainable way. 

Eventually, a tree here and there started to pop up until they morphed into a thick forest. At one point, you were sure you saw some of the Organisation issued motorcycles through the thicket of the forest, clearly speeding through another road in the opposite direction as the two of you. 

“We’re going back,” you realised, “we’re going back to the hotel.”

You could just barely make out the nod of Jimin’s head. The sun had fully set now, and combined with the thunderstorm it was practically impossible to see in front of you. 

It made sense to go back. The Organisation wouldn’t expect you two to be anywhere near it or near any recent mission areas considering they were too predictable. They would likely focus on the areas that were farther away from them, thinking that’s where you would be hiding. 

Thankfully your destination didn’t take too long to show up after the forest thickened. Soon enough, you were checking into the same hotel and even the same room you stayed in the other night. 

Immediately, you crashed back first onto the couch, groaning at the feeling of finally relaxing your muscles. Your day had definitely been more emotionally exhausting than physically by a long shot, which was probably why you felt so drained. Jimin gently sat next to you, adjusting your head so that it was resting comfortably in his lap. 

“We should be able to stay here and get some rest for a few hours before they find us,” Jimin said, letting his hand run through your hair delicately. 

“Then I guess that gives us enough time to come up with a plan,” you said, already racking your brain for the possibilities. You sat up and crossed your legs on the couch while facing Jimin. 

“What do you think?”

Jimin thought for a moment before speaking, “we can lay low for a while, just until they stop looking for us. Then when we get an opening, we move to the countryside.”

You shook your head.

“They’ll find us eventually, whether we live in the city or countryside. What if we completely change our identities? You know, plastic surgery, new passports– all that? Then we can even blend into a city.”

But Jimin shook his head as well, “they’d still find us. Changing identities always leaves a trail.”

There was a beat of silence as the realisation suddenly hit you. 

“Then… we’ll have to leave the country.”

The thought of leaving the country made your heart feel heavy. This was where you were born, where you were raised and became the person you were. Sure, your upbringing was pretty crappy, but nostalgia was nostalgia, wasn’t it?

Slowly, Jimin nodded his head, no doubt going over all the possible options in this situation. You’d still have to get new identities and live in the countryside even in the new country, but it was your best bet. 

“I know for sure the Organisation doesn’t have any ties in Canada,” Jimin thought out loud, absentmindedly brushing his hand against your thigh, “the country itself is huge and a lot of it hasn’t been urbanised just yet. It would be the perfect place to run away to.”

You didn’t know much about the Organisation’s reach internationally, but it didn’t surprise you that they had some control even outside the country. If Canada really was one of the countries that was outside their reach, you could easily hide there. 

There was silence after that. The two of you had been partners for so long that you already knew the rest of the plan without even having to speak it. You’d spend a few hours in the hotel room and rest until around midnight, where you’d get up and make your way to the airport. Hopefully, the Organisation wouldn’t catch up to you while you boarded and left the country for good. 

There were so many things that could go wrong. So many ways the Organisation could get to you and yet, for once you didn’t feel scared. You and Jimin were as good as dead anyway, but now there was hope for a new life. You’ve always thought of hope as a dangerous thing, but now, it’s never made you happier. 

Your hand found Jimin’s, letting yourself intertwine your fingers with his before shifting closer to him. Jimin smiled as he wrapped his arms around you the same way he had done last night. 

Being part of the Organisation since you were 9 had ensured you’ve never had any kind of romantic relationship with anyone before, to the point that just sitting here in Jimin’s arms had your heart beating out of your chest. This was all such unfamiliar territory for you. The only thing that could guide you were all the movies you’ve watched, but you were old enough to know movies weren’t a very accurate representation of real life. 

“The first time I realised that I may have feelings for you was during the Lockley mission,” Jimin said suddenly, immediately piquing your interest. You swung your legs over his and made a little show of getting comfy to encourage him to continue. 

That made Jimin chuckle.

“It had been right when Lockley had turned the tables on us and pulled a gun on you while he had taken you hostage. I remember feeling so panicked, not the kind of panic you feel when a friend is in danger, but so much worse than that. It felt like his gun was resting on my head and, for the first time in a long time, my mind went blank with fear.”

Both your hands wrapped around his as you noticed a slight tremor in them. 

You remember that mission. You and Jimin didn’t anticipate that Lockley, your target, had been expecting the two of you, and because of that he had managed to grab you and put a gun to your head before any of you knew what was happening. He had created a hostage situation so that he could buy himself enough time to get out of there before you and Jimin could kill him like the Organisation had ordered. Thankfully, Jimin had managed to save you, but not before Lockley’s gun went off and instead hit you below the ribs.

Jimin continued as his other hand rested on your leg, “then when you had gotten shot, it was like my heart stopped beating. I couldn’t even let you go when the surgeons had arrived because the thought of losing you terrified me. That’s when I knew that how I felt about you was not as simple as I thought it was.”

“Since the Lockley’s mission…” you thought, “that was almost 5 years ago.”

He’s liked you for the last 5 years and you hadn’t even noticed, probably too busy trying to hide your own feelings from him. 

“Maybe it’s my fault we’re in this situation,” he said uncharacteristically, “I didn’t hide my feelings well enough last night and now our lives are on the line.” 

Jimin has never been one to dwell on ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes,’ he always made sure that what he spoke was useful and relevant. Otherwise he was silent. It was you that often spoke your mind, broke the rules, and gave him heart attacks. He’s done everything to keep you safe, and now here he was blaming himself for what you were starting to realise was probably your fault.

“If anything, I’m probably the reason we’re in this situation,” you thought out loud, “let’s face it Jimin, I’m not exactly good enough for them to make an exception in a tradition that has been upheld for years. They were going to order us to kill each other, regardless of what happened last night.”

You just wish Jimin didn’t have to suffer for your shortcomings. He could have lived if he had killed you when the Organisation had ordered it, probably would have been sleeping in his bed back at the base right now. It was only because of you that he’d dropped everything, sacrificed his life, just to be here with you.

As if reading your thoughts, Jimin immediately brought up his hand to cup your cheek before taking a breath, “no, don’t ever blame yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“Even though the situation isn’t exactly ideal, I don’t regret trying to protect you. Because no matter how bad everything is right now, nothing makes me happier than being able to hold you like this after years of believing I’ll never get the chance.”

His hand felt warm against your cheek as you looked at him, his own gaze focused on your eyes. You felt the same; even though you’ve been doing everything the Organisation had ordered to keep your life, you’ve never felt more alive until today. Jimin’s touches and words, no matter how small, were electrifying and you found yourself wondering how you’ve been living without them for so many years. 

You noticed his gaze flicker down to your lips for a moment before moving back up to your eyes. The action made you heat, and probably would have been enough to make you look away in embarrassment if it wasn’t for your own gaze that was now focused on his plump lips. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly, trying to force your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

Baby

Your stomach exploded with butterflies at the nickname as your cheeks became hot. The prospect of kissing Jimin, combined with that nickname, suddenly had you panicking to the point that you couldn’t help but blurt out the first thing that came to mind. 

“You called me that before.”

Jimin’s head tilted in confusion for a moment, put off by the sudden comment. It gave you time to try, and fail, at lowering your raging heart and mind. 

“Back at the warehouse,” you explained, trying to focus on your words rather than how close his face was to yours and how foggy it was making your brain, “when you were trying to get me to kill you, you called me baby.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, gaze dropping to your slightly shaky hands still enveloping his and then back to your face, before suddenly shifting your positions. In a matter of seconds, you were straddling his lap while both his hands gently cupped your face. The position was different, it made you feel more in control of whatever was happening. 

You could feel the warmth from Jimin’s chest seep into your own at the new proximity. For as long as you could remember he’s been your warmth and comfort, but experiencing this side of him gave the two words a completely new definition. You wanted to experience more, go as far as humanly possible- but with him, only with him. 

“You’re dodging the question, Y/N,” he whispered, as if not to break the silence. 

Your faces were so close to each other that you could feel your breaths mingling. The closeness felt oddly calming, helping you focus a little better. But you didn’t need much of your brain right now anyway. You knew what you wanted. There was no more need for thinking anymore. 

“Can I–”

Before Jimin could finish, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips with his. 

A comfortable warmth burst inside your chest as Jimin immediately sunk into the kiss, letting you feel his soft and plump mouth in the process. You couldn’t describe the feelings you were experiencing. Everytime his lips glided over yours, your chest tightened with want for more. Your hands found themselves in Jimin’s hair, tugging every once in a while and subsequently earning you a pleased groan. 

One of his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue moved your lips apart to let himself into your mouth. It was no question that he was the one dominating this kiss right now, but you didn’t mind at all. You were just trying not to self combust under all the new emotions you were experiencing for the first time. 

Jimin’s hand, which was now resting on your waist, continued to pull you flush against his chest.  The movement caused him to groan, and he suddenly pulled you away from him. 

“How far do you want to go tonight?” He said through laboured breaths.

It took you a second to notice the obvious want in his eyes and then another to process the fact that he had asked a question.

“As far as we can,” you said, “I want every part of you, Jimin.”

Jimin smiled before he connected with your lips once again. This time, one of your hands raised to brush your fingers through his hair. He moaned, causing his lips to disconnect with yours. Instead they found a spot near your neck, allowing him to send open mouthed kisses all over your throat.

You felt yourself being gently pushed until the soft couch connected with your back. Jimin hovered over you, continuing to mark your neck and collarbone with his lips. His torso, which was now slotted between your legs, pushed you deeper against the couch, causing you to moan. The movement had your heart rate racing once again. 

“Wait,” you said suddenly.

Jimin immediately paused, putting some space between the two of you, but the arms wrapped around his neck kept him in place. 

“I’ve never done this before.”

Sexual relationships were also strictly banned in the Organisation. And since you started at 9, it was no surprise that you were still a virgin at your age. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin was still one as well. 

It wasn’t that you were scared of having sex with Jimin, but it was the idea of the unknown that scared you more. You didn’t entirely know how to pleasure him, or even yourself. Knowing that you’ll never have sex, you never really bothered to research the specifics, but now you were really regretting that decision. You felt unprepared. 

Noticing the uncertainty on your face, Jimin’s expression softened, “do you want to stop?”

“No,” you answered immediately, “I just… I don’t…”

You struggled to find the words, but Jimin being Jimin didn’t need much explanation. He intertwined his fingers with yours before placing a kiss over the scar you had gotten from the Lockley incident. 

“I haven’t either,” he admitted, “but don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

That made you smile. Of course he will. Park Jimin had been by your side for as long as you could remember, been the only person in this world that had kept you safe and as happy as possible given the situation. You trusted him, more than you trusted even yourself. 

“I know,” you said, because you wanted him to know it. You wanted him to know that you trusted him and knew how much he cared about you. You wanted him to know how much you cared about him too, and how much you wanted him in your life, even if it probably wasn’t going to be a very long one, “I love you.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said the big ‘I love you’ right before having sex, you don’t recall any romantic movie scenes where that had happened. Maybe it was shallow or too casual. 

But the big smile that suddenly overtook Jimin’s face made you happy that you did. He gave you a few light kisses on your lips before he whispered it back against your ear.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Hearing him say it back affected you a lot more than you had thought it would. Despite dreaming about a moment like this for years, nothing could come close to the real feeling of Park Jimin telling you he loved you right after telling him the same. You imagine this is what being high feels like, mind hazy on satisfaction. 

You let Jimin kiss you again, this one much more passionate than the last. When he pulled away from you, his expression showed nothing but care and love. 

“Let me show you how much I love you baby.”

This time you didn’t overthink.

This time you gave yourself to him completely, all night. 

It was still dark when Jimin woke you up, pointing out a few shady looking people from your window. It didn’t take long for you to understand that your time at the hotel was up. 

You both needed to get moving. 

After making sure you weren’t being followed, you and Jimin hopped onto your motorcycle and continued speeding down the secluded highway. You’d only managed to get a few hours of sleep before Jimin had woken you up, meaning the sun was probably going to rise in an hour or two. It wouldn’t do much to change the gloomy atmosphere considering it was still raining, but you’ve never been in a better mood until today. 

Jimin also seemed to be in a good mood, pointing out cool scenery and animals through the dark as you travelled through vast fields of farmland. It didn’t even feel like you both were trying to run away from inevitable death. It just felt like any other day, following through on one of your missions.

About an hour or two later, Jimin was pulling into the airport, bringing the motorcycle to a stop right in front of the passenger pick-up and drop-off area. 

“So what’s our point of entrance?” You thought out loud while scanning your surroundings. 

You obviously couldn’t just waltz through security with your weapons and no passport and expect not to be thrown into jail in record time. There needed to be another way. 

Jimin pointed his head to the right, guiding you to follow his line of sight. At the far end, you could see the air stewards and pilots laughing and talking with each other as they walked into the airport with their small hand carries. 

“It would definitely get us past security,” you agreed, picking up on what he was implying.

The two of you abandoned the motorcycle and made your way into the airport. You needed to find the group of air stewards and pilots that were flying to Canada so you could get past security. After that, it should be easy to get onto the plane.

You and Jimin scanned the board of flights, praying there was a flight to Canada happening soon. To your relief, the earliest flight was departing in about half an hour. Not a lot of time, but you could definitely make it work. 

Before you could start looking for a group of stewards attending that flight, a man caught your eye. He was just standing there, looking around the place as if he were some kind of security guard. But he wasn’t dressed as such, rather he was wearing a black hoodie and jeans–

Your eyes furrowed as you noticed his shoes. They were standard issue shoes from the Organisation, no doubt about it. And with how vigilant the man was being, you were betting that he had been put on high alert, likely searching for the two of you. 

“Nine o’clock, in the black hoodie,” you whispered to Jimin, who didn’t look right away. 

His eyes flickered to the man and then back to you, “the group of stewards next to the security entrance match our description.”

You nodded keeping a close eye on the man, who was still oblivious to the two of you thanks to the crowd surrounding you both. 

“We meet up in the family bathroom after clearing security,” you said, causing Jimin to nod. 

Without any other words the two of you split up, Jimin off to seize his steward while you were off to seize yours. It was normal for you to follow unsaid commands like that, you could read each other so easily after all. What wasn’t normal was the small squeeze Jimin gave your hand before you split, one that had you battling a smile and heated cheeks. 

It didn’t take you long to find the group Jimin had hinted at, but it did take a while to find a stewardess similar to your height and appearance. The clock in the back of your mind was counting down the time left until the plane’s departure. You had to get on that plane in time, or you could kiss any chance of freedom goodbye. 

27:32 minutes remaining.

You walked up to the steward, explaining the first problem you could think of off the top of your head. It was easy getting her to come with you into the bathroom, and then even easier to knock her out in one of the stalls without a sound. The Organisation had taught you how to manipulate to the point that it was practically second nature to you. 

You quickly put on her uniform while checking for her passport and boarding ticket. Unfortunately you were going to have to leave behind your gun and daggers, which made you feel more naked than ever. But you didn’t have much other choice at this point. 

With your head held high, you walked out of the bathroom in the stewardess uniform and hand carry dragging against the floor. You didn’t see Jimin anywhere yet, but you had to get past security and into the bathroom first before you could start worrying about him. 

You greeted the security guard with a smile as you handed him your passport and boarding ticket. He took your baggage and placed it on a conveyor belt while motioning for you to go through the metal detector. The detector stayed silent as you walked through confidently.

It was the bag that caused a sound to erupt from the machine. 

The security guard’s eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the screen that was showing the scan of your luggage. Unfortunately the screen was turned the other way so you couldn’t see what he was picking up on.

“Are you sure you’ve declared everything ma’am?” He asked sternly, pulling the carry on from out of the machine and unzipping it. 

Crap… was the stewardess you picked a drug smuggler? She didn’t seem like one to you, but if he’s picking up on drugs then that’ll be an issue. How stupid could she be to openly smuggle drugs in her luggage? She was a stewardess, didn’t she know security scanned baggage?

You readied yourself to get out of the situation, but then paused as he flipped the luggage open. 

Oh god…

Staring back at you and the security guard was a neon pink adult toy sitting right at the top of a bunch of neatly folded clothes. 

The security guard stuttered as he quickly zipped the carry on shut while you tried your hardest not to laugh. He practically threw the hand carry back at you, looking anywhere but your face. 

“Enjoy your flight ma’am,” he choked out. His eyes suddenly widened, as if realising the double meaning behind that sentence before scrambling to redeem himself, “that’s not– I-I mean-”

You couldn’t help the reply that came out of your mouth, “Thank you, I will indeed enjoy my flight.”

You laughed internally as you watched the security guard’s face turn bright red, before walking off towards the bathroom. 

Poor guy. That was hilarious, though. 

But your smile was quick to vanish when you noticed the guy in a black hoodie from earlier standing in the same line you had been just a moment before. This time, his gaze was fixed solely on you. 

They found you.

Your hands were quick to find the lock of the family bathroom, twisting it quickly before you were scanning the small space. Jimin was already there, sitting atop the closed toilet patiently while wearing a men’s steward uniform. At your arrival he stood immediately. 

You were surprised when he greeted you with a firm kiss to your lips. 

Man could you get used to this. 

“Nice dildo,” Jimin snickered, earning him a roll of your eyes. 

“I guess the plane ride can get boring for some.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. The fact that it was caught on the machine meant that it was some kind of automated toy too, which for some reason made it funnier. 

When your laughs died out, you were the first to break the mood, “the man we saw earlier spotted me. He’s in line for security right now.”

“Okay, then we need to be quick,” Jimin nodded, demeanor becoming serious,“we obviously won’t be able to get on the plane as stewards. Our only point of entrance is the cargo compartment that they have for pets since it’s the only one on an airplane that’s pressurised and ventilated.”

“We can try getting there through the vents,” you suggested.

In the past, the two of you participated in a mission that required you to memorise the layout of the airport’s vents, but that was a long time ago. Your memory of the vents couldn’t be as accurate now, not to mention the airport was always going through construction, so you didn’t even know if the vents would still be the same as before. 

Jimin explained that much to you again. 

“There should be a back entrance for the workers that load the baggage into the plane,” he said, “we’ll have to find it and–”

A sudden bang from outside the bathroom door caused you both to flinch. Your eyes immediately went to the door, while your hand instinctively grabbed for your dagger before realising it wasn’t there anymore. 

“This is airport security. Open the door or we’ll be forced to use violence,” a man’s voice yelled. 

It was safe to say that was not airport security, and instead the Organisation forcing you out of the bathroom. In fact, you’d bet some heavy money on that guy in the black hoodie from earlier being the one standing outside the door right now. 

“Well, vents it is,” you announced, rummaging through the stewardess’s hand carry until you managed to find a metal hair curler. You gave it to Jimin, who grabbed it quickly and began breaking the vent cover. 

“You have 20 seconds before we open this door,” he said, but you could already see the door knob wiggling. They were no doubt placing an explosive and would set it off the moment they were done. 

In a matter of seconds, Jimin had managed to break off the vent cover with the hair curler and hoist you into the vent. The sound of the door erupting reverberated around the room just as Jimin managed to hoist himself up. Splinters from the door flew everywhere, landing near even you, who was already well within the metal labyrinth. You grabbed Jimin’s arm and helped him up before making your way deeper into the vents. 

Your mind struggled to remember the layout of the airport’s vents. Every turn you took was more of a guess than a certainty, but Jimin didn’t correct you when you made a decision so your choices couldn’t have been that bad. 

The sounds of the Organisation’s men following you through the vents could be heard a few metres back. You needed to hurry if you wanted to get away from them and if you wanted to make it on time to the airplane. 

10:01 minutes remaining.

You paused when the vents split into two opposite directions, completely unsure of which direction led to where. You could swear that this split wasn’t even in the outline you studied years ago. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know the directions, would you?” You asked Jimin, while sounds of the Organisation’s men got closer and closer. 

Jimin paused, no doubt crouched uncomfortably as he waited behind you. You hated how if the men caught up to you, it would be Jimin that would have to face them first. You could even bet that’s why Jimin stayed behind you in the first place. That protective bastard.

“I don’t think this was part of the outline,” he said after racking his brain for the answer. 

Your focus shifted behind you to look at Jimin, but instead you noticed the Organisation’s men already inching a few metres away towards you two. They’d catch up to you guys in no time. 

You shifted your focus back to the situation in front of you. It was really a 50/50 chance at this point, so you quickly did eenie meenie miny moe in your head and prayed the direction you chose wouldn’t land you right into the hands of the Organisation. Wordlessly, Jimin followed behind. 

A few more minutes of uncomfortable crawling led you to a dip in the vent, almost like a slide. You slid down it without hesitation, completely aware that the Organisation’s men were now dangerously close to Jimin. 

What you didn’t expect, was for the vent to end, causing you to slam into the vent cover. You awkwardly brough your feet in front of you, and slammed them against it. It clattered to the seemingly concrete ground, allowing you to finally squeeze out of the cramped vent. 

05:57 minutes remaining.

The outside’s breeze flowed through your hair as you tried to make out the layout in front of you through the darkness of dawn, a crack of the sun that was now visible helping a bit. A few airplanes stood side by side in a line, while others were already speeding down the runway into the air. 

You heard Jimin jump out of the vent, but before you could turn towards him, you felt him pull you down to the ground. Not a second later, three bullets came flying towards where you had been standing moments ago. 

The both of you turned around to see the Organisation’s men jumping out of the vents, eyes trained on you. You were already mentally cursing at the guns in their hands. 

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing Jimin’s arm and dragging him behind you. 

You were lucky that it was dark, which messed up the aim of a lot of the shots being sent towards you both. What you needed was to find the airplane leaving in less than 5 minutes. But the more you scanned the area, the more you were losing hope. 

“There,” Jimin said suddenly, pointing towards your left.

The plane was hidden behind one of the watchtowers. It seemed that all the passengers had boarded, and the only thing it was waiting for was the loading of the luggage. You could see the workers still throwing large cargo into the cargo compartment quickly. You just needed to reach that point, then getting past the workers would take no time. 

You and Jimin continued to run towards it. Almost there, almost there…

“Wait,” you stopped suddenly, realising something. Jimin’s brows furrowed as he paused next to you.

“Wha-”

“The men,” you said, looking behind you. They weren’t shooting anymore, instead they were just standing there watching the two of you, “why are they just standing there?”

You were well within range of their weapons. Why wouldn’t they take a shot when they had the cha–

“Watch out!” Jimin suddenly yelled. 

You just barely managed to dodge the giant truck that had been hurtling towards you at full speed. With its headlights off, you didn’t even notice it had been coming towards you until it would have been too late. 

The truck screeched to a stop, allowing several more men and women from the Organisation to jump out and surround you. You were severely outnumbered, with no weapons and now less than 3 minutes to get on a plane that stood at least 120 metres away from you. 

“We just need to get to the plane,” Jimin said, analysing the 17 armed individuals currently surrounding you both, “once we’re in the plane, they can’t get us. We’ll need to make a run for it.”

02:11 minutes remaining.

Jimin was right, there was no time to take your chances with the individuals surrounding you. You could already see the workers throwing in the last of the baggage and getting ready to close the cargo entrance. If you didn’t make it, it was over. 

You quickly lunged at one of the men, clearly taking him off guard. You grabbed his gun and managed to slam its butt into his face, causing him to crumple to the floor. One look at the gun in Jimin’s hand had you both sprinting towards the airplane. 

01:37 minutes remaining.

Every few seconds, you had to turn back and send a few bullets flying towards the group, which was now down to 15. It gave you and Jimin a chance to run without being shot at. 

01:07 minutes remaining.

A worker threw the last bag into the cargo hold and motioned for another to begin closing the compartment. You and Jimin were only a few metres away, sprinting with as much energy as you could. You’d be able to make it within a minute–

A bullet suddenly ripped into your calf, causing you to stumble and almost faceplant right into the concrete. Pain erupted in your leg as you tried to get back onto your feet.

“Y/N!” Jimin shouted, crouching down next to you immediately. 

He brought up his gun and sent a bunch of bullets towards the group, three of which actually hit their target. The Organisation’s members immediately fell backwards, waiting for a safe moment to shoot. 

00:34 minutes remaining.

You could see the compartment closing as the workers made their way back into the baggage carts and began driving away. 30 seconds… You only had 30 seconds to make it before your opening would close forever. 

“Y/N, I know it hurts,” Jimin said, and you could pick up on the hint of desperation in his voice, “but we need to run for it. Just 20 seconds, okay? You just need to hold out for 20 seconds.”

You nodded, clenching your teeth as Jimin helped you up while sending more shots towards the Organisation’s people. 

10 seconds remaining.

“Okay, now!” He signalled. 

The two of you continued to sprint towards the now closing airplane compartment, Jimin’s arm half dragging you in the process. Your leg wasn’t completely useless considering you were just barely able to match his speed, but the pain almost had you blacking out midrun. 

7 seconds remaining.

Jimin’s grip on your arm tightened as he sped up.

“Almost there,” he assured, “almost there.”

5 seconds remaining.

You wanted to cry in relief when you finally came to a stop in front of the compartment door. The large door was closing upwards and was already halfway closed. That caused Jimin to hurriedly lift you up so that you could slip into the little opening between the closing door and the side of the plane. 

The only issue was that by the time you were inside, the opening was much too small for Jimin to slip through. 

3 seconds remaining.

“Jimin!”

You couldn’t see him anymore, the sides of the door had closed too much. How was he going to get in?

2 seconds remaining.

No, no, no.

“Jimin!” You shouted again, like it was going to do anything. 

1 second remaining.

A grunt caused your gaze to shift upwards, and you noticed Jimin slipping through the small opening between the top of the door and the plane’s side. For a terrifying moment, you thought the closing door was going to crush him, but at the last second he managed to slip through without losing his head. 

The second his feet connected with the floor, you threw your arms around him, almost sobbing at the fact that he was alive and you weren’t going to have to travel to Canada without him.

Jimin chuckled at your reaction, but with how tight his hold was, you were sure he wasn’t as nonchalant as he was making himself out to be. 

“Come on,” he said softly, refusing to let you go, “let’s go to the ventilated compartment before the plane takes off.”

You nodded as he helped your limping form towards the other side of the compartment. With the initial shock wearing off, your eyes widened at the realisation. 

“We did it…” You said incredulously. 

Jimin gave you a smile as he got the door open and ushered you inside before making sure it was properly locked. 

“Holy crap, we actually did it, Jimin. We bested the Organisation.”

The realisation didn’t feel real, like at any moment you’d wake up back in the hotel room and realise this was all a dream. The Organisation that you’ve feared ever since you knew about its existence would now be a distant memory. You and Jimin could finally live your lives based on your own terms, without the fear of death constantly looming over your heads. It was almost daunting thinking about the amount of freedom you now had. 

Jimin sat you down next to one of the cages, which were largely empty besides one sleeping dog nestled in the corner. Moving your pant aside, he began examining your bullet wound. 

“I’ve been through worse, I’ll be fine,” you assured, but he continued anyway.

Gently, he unravelled the mini scarf wrapped around your neck as part of the stewardess uniform and began wrapping it around your wounded calf. You flinched in pain, causing him to stroke your thigh in comfort. 

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, continuing to wrap your wound gently while you clenched your teeth. 

“What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, “we’re about to go to Canada and live the rest of our lives there. Surely you have some plans.”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t even think we’d make it this far, much less have time to plan out what we’ll do in Canada.”

The plane suddenly lurched, indicating the beginning of its take off. Jimin finished tying the scarf and then began to apply pressure, causing you to whine in pain. 

“I want a small house,” you blurted out, piquing Jimin’s interest.

“Small?” He asked, to which you nodded, “I would have thought that after our small rooms at the Organisation, you would have wanted something big?”

You shook your head. Sure, the Organisation’s small bedrooms had driven you crazy at some points, but a large house was just as daunting. Big houses reminded you of your life before the Organisation, and although it wasn’t terrible, it made you feel cold and unsettled. And you told Jimin just that. 

He smiled, continuing to hold pressure against your leg, “then a small house you will get.”

“What about you? What do you want once we reach there?” You asked, genuinely curious about his answer. Jimin wasn’t a very materialistic person. At least you watched an unhealthy amount of movies and made a hobby out of talking his ears off. But aside from training, you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed him doing much else. 

“Well that’s easy. All I want is you.”

You rolled your eyes, “okay, Romeo. Serious answer please?”

The pressure on your wound suddenly lifted, allowing you to breathe out a sigh of relief, as Jimin checked for bleeding. When he seemed satisfied by the lack thereof, his gaze held yours, shifting to a more serious expression. 

“As an orphan, I’ve never stayed in a place comfortable enough to call it home,” he said, “and then when the Organisation kidnapped me, I knew I could kiss any hopes of comfort goodbye.”

“But then I met you. You were lively and intelligent, with a spirit as vivacious as a cool breeze. And though they tried their best, the Organisation couldn’t entirely kill that fire inside you. I was doomed the second you decided to give me the time of day. You quickly became my comfort, my home. So yes, all I really want is you.”

“Since when did you become so chatty, Park Jimin?” You said, trying to distract him from the fact that you were sure your face was red. 

But Jimin just gave you a lopsided grin, “ I have to make up for all the times you talked my ear off, don’t I?”

“Hey! I thought you liked listening to my rambling,” you protested.

Jimin stood up suddenly, walking towards you before kneeling down next to your seated form. His hand cupped your face gently as a slight chuckle escaped his lips. 

“I’m just kidding baby, of course I like your rambling,” he said softly, “I would listen to your voice all day if I could.”

He brought you closer for a chaste kiss before pulling back and giving you a teasing smile. How you ended up with a man like him you’ll never know. But if the Organisation hasn’t killed you, you know he probably will with his sweet words and even sweeter actions. 

His proximity had your whole body feeling warm and fuzzy, especially your hands. It wasn’t until you noticed your hands turning hot when you realised that they weren’t heating as a response to Jimin. Confused, your gaze dropped to where your hands were resting on the floor, Jimin doing the same when he noticed your sudden change in expression. 

Your eyes widened.

Dark red liquid enveloped your hands as it pooled in the centre of the small compartment. Jimin’s gaze snapped to your leg, but it had long since stopped bleeding. 

“What the hell-” you said, following the trail of blood to the corner of the cages. 

Jimin stood, slowly making his way to the source of the trail. The dog from earlier was still soundly asleep in its cage, completely unaware of your presence. Or at least, that’s what the two of you had thought. 

As Jimin inched closer, he was starting to realise that the blood was actually seeping from under its cage and pooling into the centre of the compartment. He crouched down with furrowed eyebrows, wondering how the dog could be sleeping through all this. But the answer came to him quickly as he noticed the eerie stillness of the creature.

He wasn’t sleeping. 

He was dead.

“Jimin?” Your distressed voice called from behind him. 

“The dog is–”

Jimin froze as he stood and turned around, taking in the terrifying scene in front of him. A man almost double your size had pushed a dagger dangerously close to your throat as his other arm wrapped around you, ensuring you couldn’t move.  

‘Behind you!’ his mind screamed at him. He knew this move, had learned it multiple times before they had even taught him how to write. But he knew he was too late when he felt the press of a single cool blade against his neck. The owner of said blade chuckled from behind him. 

You watched in panic as the man pressed his dagger more firmly against Jimin’s throat, enough to draw a single drop of blood. 

“Well, haven’t you both been a surprisingly significant inconvenience today?” A deep voice rang. 

Your gaze shifted to the other corner of the room, taking in the entrance of another man. It didn’t take long for you to recognise his tall figure, rugged features, and uniquely marked pistol hanging from his hand. 

The Leader.

His sharp gaze scanned over you and Jimin with contempt as he slowly made his way towards the centre of the room. You grimaced when he stepped right into the pool of blood like it was nothing but water. 

“You were given direct orders,” he continued, “yet they were disobeyed, despite your pledge of loyalty to the Organisation.”

“Were you not aware of the consequences?” 

A silence ensued in the compartment, you nor Jimin willing to provide him with an answer. He didn’t seem to appreciate that. 

He flicked his head towards Jimin, and you only had a second to realise the implication of that action.

The man standing behind Jimin suddenly plunged his dagger into him, right below his rib cage, to the point that you could see the tip of the dagger. 

“No!” You screamed, trying to run to him but the man behind you held onto you firmly. Jimin groaned in pain, falling to his knees with a hand pressed against the bleeding wound. The man behind him no longer needed to restrain him, opting instead to lean against the wall. 

You didn’t bother to hide the tears that started running down your cheeks as you watched Jimin grimace in pain. It felt like the dagger had stabbed you instead because you could’ve sworn pain erupted under your ribcage as well. 

“I asked, were you not aware of the consequences?” The Leader asked again. 

It made you glare, “since when do you care about what we are and are not aware of?”

But the Leader ignored you as he stepped right in front of Jimin, gaze focused solely on him. He lowered himself into a kneeling position and grabbed Jimin’s chin, forcing him to gaze upwards. The look of pain on Jimin’s face made you sob. 

“Yes, I did know,” he said, voice unwavering despite the evident grimace on his face.

“So you both directly disobeyed orders from the Organisation? You admit to being traitors to the most powerful organisation in the world?”

“Spare her,” Jimin said suddenly, as if he’d been holding it in the entire time, “do what you want with me, but please let her go.”

“No!” Like hell you were going to let him take the fall for this, “I forced him to do it. He isn’t a traitor!”

“Shut her up,” the Leader commanded. 

You felt pain shoot up your leg as the man behind you dug his heel into your bullet wound. Your knees collapsed to the ground as you tried to muffle your cry of pain. 

The Leader scanned Jimin once again, who was starting to look a little dazed with all the blood he'd lost. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“I’m disappointed in you, Park Jimin,” he sighed, “I had great plans for you. You could’ve married my daughter, become the leader after me. But now you’ve made yourself a traitor, and my daughter is dead.”

Guilt spread through your chest at the news of his daughter’s death. She was the one that could’ve stopped him and his organisation, but now she was no more. No doubt killed at the hands of her own father. You could see a hint of guilt in Jimin’s expression as well. 

“I suppose I should thank you for aiding in exposing my daughter for the traitor she was,” the Leader continued, “but we both know the Organisation does not work like that.”

The Leader’s hand went to cup Jimin’s neck, who was now barely keeping his eyes open. 

“There are no places for traitors in the Organisation,” the Leader whispered. 

Jimin’s dazed, but heavy gaze fell on you, who was doing a poor job at keeping the tears streaming down your face at bay. For the first time in a long time you had trouble understanding what he was trying to say. Goodbye? I’m sorry? I love you? For a moment, you were sent back to when you were 9 again, staring into the eyes of the 12 year old boy who’s expression held a whirlpool of emotions and pleas as he dragged you away from your old life. 

Then a dagger sprang from the Leader’s wrist and plunged into Jimin’s neck, causing another scream to rip out of your hoarse throat. This time, Jimin went limp in a matter of seconds, body dropping to the ground as his lifeless eyes stared aimlessly in front of him. 

Your sobs filled the compartment’s silence as the Leader paused. He deserved so much better than this. He was so kind and intelligent and talented. He could have done so much, achieved so much if he had only been given the chance. If the Organisation hadn’t gotten to him and made his life a living hell. 

The Leader turned to you, but you were no longer paying him any attention. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the nightmare standing in front of you. Not even 10 minutes ago you had been hoping that you weren’t living some kind of dream, but now you’d do anything to wake up back at that hotel. If only you had forced Jimin to kill you at the warehouse. If only you had pushed him away that night in the hotel. If only, if only, if only.

Then Jimin wouldn’t have suffered so much. He could have been back at the base, training for another mission, alive and well. It should’ve been you. It should’ve only been you.

You could make out the Leader making his way towards you before kneeling and forcing your chin to face him. But it didn’t matter, all you could see was Jimin’s lifeless body and it would be the only thing you’d see until the Leader finally decided to end your suffering. 

“It’s disappointing watching you in this position considering how hard we worked to get you back from your mother,” he said while shaking his head. 

That made your eyebrows furrow momentarily. What did he mean by back from your mother?

Noticing this confusion, the Leader continued, “before you were born, the Organisation had decided to experiment with a new way of recruiting members. Instead of kidnapping children, we decided to try breeding them and then training them as soon as possible. Of course, we had to test this new approach first.”

“So we bred you, the daughter of the strongest assassins in the Organisation at the time. Unfortunately, your mother seemed to grow an attachment to you and ended up stealing you away from us. It was impressive how she managed to hide you from us for 9 years. 

“But those 9 years were wasted. During them, you could have trained to become the Organisation’s best assassin. You could have been our most powerful tool.”

The Leader looked back at Jimin, but you couldn’t find it in you to follow his gaze. The image of his lifeless body had been burned into your mind, looking at him just felt like the hot iron was pressing back into your brain once again. 

“Both of you could have.”

There might have been a time when the revelation of your history might have shocked you. When learning that your mother had betrayed the Organisation for you might have willed you to look back and connect the dots. But now your mind felt numb. You honestly couldn’t care less if your mother had picked you up from a garbage can. Jimin was gone and you were only running on borrowed time. 

“Tragic how the ones destined for greatness always fall the hardest,” he continued.

The Leader’s hand followed up your shoulder until he was cupping your neck. His gaze was the gaze of death, and you focused on it until you no longer could. You closed your eyes, waiting for the final blow. 

It’s funny how in the face of death your life didn’t flash before your eyes, nor did you cry hysterically or beg for your life. Instead, the voice of your mother awoke from its slumber in your mind, asking a question that you hadn’t been asked in a long time. 

So, what is the moral of the story?

For years you had racked your small brain, trying to find an answer to the question that had seemed so significant and complex to you. It was almost insulting how quickly the answer came to you now. It couldn’t have been more clear. 

In the story, that stupid girl had gone her whole life flaunting her grades, her intelligence, and her beauty in the faces of everyone around her. She ensured that anyone, whether friend or stranger, knew about her superiority and magnificence, yet not once did she stop to ponder about how against her that would make others. How willing people could be to destroy her out of jealousy, or how willing people could be to steal what she had and keep it for themself.

Not once did she stop and wonder how she could protect herself in the case of an attack. 

She had built the cage that was supposed to protect her with glass, and when the big bad wolf had come for her head, she might as well have handed it over to him on a silver platter. 

All your life, you had thought that the metal cage your mother had built around you was to keep you contained, but really it had been made to keep the Organisation out. Once the Organisation had gotten you, you didn’t bother building another. That’s what made you and the girl from the story the same. 

You both didn’t bother to prepare, instead you were stupidly content with your glass cages. 

But as you felt the Leader’s grip tighten on your neck, you couldn’t help but think you were tired of cages. You’d suffered within the confines of your mother’s, and then the Organisation’s. Your first taste of freedom had been Jimin, but now he was gone and had taken your freedom with him. 

“There are no places for failures in the Organisation,” the Leader whispered. 

And when the dagger plunged into your neck, a sigh of relief almost escaped your lips. 

You were finally free.

[acopenhagenarmy]

HOLLANDS, MINS AND KIMS - CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: BTS x reader but mostly hyung-line x reader  Side pairings: Jimin x Taehyung, Jimin x Ateez!Wooyoung, reader x Ateez!Seonghwa

Mafia!au - gang!au - assassins!au 

Word count: 4k ish

Warnings: Mentions of death, nudity and sex apart from that some strong language. And I think that’s it for now.. 

Summary: Growing up in one of the biggest and most feared mafias has it’s perks, but what happens when you and you’re friends are suddenly shipped off to the other end of the world? Will you stay together or will the world you live in tear you all apart? 

NOTE: THIS IS THE UPDATED VERSION OF MY HEART RUNS TO YOU

-> NEXT CHAPTER

You looked out of the window, as you watched the scenery, that was the world, flash by before your eyes. Your head was pounding with an incredible hangover from the day before, and no amount of sparkling water in first class was able to dull it.

You heard a groan from the boy beside your own little cubicle and looked at Jungkook stretching his body in the seat/bed that he was stuck in for the next few hours. He gave you a puzzled look.

“What’s up love? Are you alright?” He grinned at you as he turned his body towards you to look you in the eye. You mirrored his action and rested your head on one of your hands, as the other laid down your body.

“No Kook, I’m not. Gosh I’m dying from this crazy ass hangover! Why did you guys convince me to take all those tequila shots? I mean seriously, I think I was dancing at the tables at one point.”

A loud laughter erupted from his throat. “Oh trust me you did, and Jimin has the videos to prove it!”

You rolled your eyes at the statement, and not long after you could hear Jimin yell.

“Hey you wanna see it?!”

You sat up in your chair, looking back on the twin who was seated in his own pod behind you. 

“Of course I don’t wanna see it you idiot! There’s no need to relive it!”

The three boys laughed and Hoseok and Jimin quickly returned to their previous conversation. You could feel Jungkook’s eyes lingering as your hand ran over the katana that leaned against your seat.

“But seriously Y/N, are you okay?” His voice was nothing more than a whisper as he tried his best to keep your conversation private. To be honest, you weren’t quite sure yourself, and sighed to buy yourself a little extra time.

“I don’t know… I’m a little afraid. I’m afraid I will end up being a disappointment and therefore not live up to what’s expected of me. It’s just, what if I fail?” You look into the eyes of the handsome man beside you, a man you trusted with your life, and all he could think about was the terror he saw reflected in them.

His eyes scanned your face, with a serious look you hadn’t seen in a long time. But he didn’t know what to tell you to keep your mind from wandering to those dark places. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you really didn’t know how amazingly talented you were? How beautiful…

His eyes lingered at your plush lips who were so close he wanted to reach out and touch them, but he composed himself quickly before you had any chance of noticing the longing in his eyes. He coughed and sent his signature bunny smile your way.

“You are too hard on yourself. Your father has chosen you as his successor because of the talents you’ve displayed from an early age. If there was anyone better suited for the job it would be them sitting in this seat with that katana and you know it”

You sighed and leaned back into your seat as you looked up into the sealing.

“I know but-“

“No but’s Y/N, don’t let all of those small-minded men get to you, don’t believe for one second you weren’t born to do this. Don’t doubt yourself… Okay?”

“Okay… Thank you Jungkook”

You sent a sweet smile his way as you took his large hand in yours. Squeezing it a little. A small hum left you as you closed your eyes.

“Why all the humming?” Hoseok said behind the two of you

“I just took Jungkook’s hand. And you know it’s so big and manly compared to Jimin’s delicate ones, just a nice contrast, that’s all” You shrugged your shoulders as laughter erupted all over, not only from the boys but the staff as well.

“Fuck you Y/N!”

“That’s what you get for taking embarrassing photos of me!”

You’d always been the most you surrounded by these men.

You’d all been dropped off outside the school. It was a high-class neighborhood, very unlike what any of you had imagined for a school for mafia kids and assassins. You looked at each other, picked up your bags and walked towards the entrance.

The doors were opened in front of you as you were about to pull the handle, startling you a bit. Instinctively you reached out for your katana that was placed in its holder on your back.

A girl stood before you with a beaming smile and red locks framed her face. You looked at Jimin beside you who quickly let go of his gun as he shook his head. After all, a smile that big, wasn’t usually an indicator of danger.

“Welcome guys!” The British accent was not to be mistaken, and she continued: “I hope you’ve all had a pleasant flight!” She turned towards Jimin and the boys almost completely ignored your presence and bowed.

“We’ve set up your rooms and I hope they live up to your standard. You are the last one to arrive, but it’ll be easier for you to say hi to everyone that way I guess”

There was no doubt in your mind that she’d seen the tattoo on his neck and naturally assumed that he was next in line for the throne. You were used to it by now, but poor girl, she was sucking up to the wrong person. Just like you Jimin had his stripes tattooed as it was the costume when the boss had more than one child. It did however get people in trouble a lot of the time. 

Jimin kept his eyes on you, trying to interrupt the young girl and correct her assumptions. But there was no stopping her.

“If you all just come with me, I’ll show…”

“You’ll all have to excuse my father’s stupid ass assistant, for some reason this girl doesn’t know the meaning of a bloody katana” A voice said behind the redhead. 

A laugh erupted from all you, as she sent a puzzled and worried look towards you. You just shook your head and gave her a smile.

The boy who was leaned up against the staircase waved his hands towards the girl and said: “Shoo little girl, and let me give these people a proper welcome”

You dropped your bags and walked towards him, embracing him in a warm and friendly hug. “Tom… Gosh it’s been too long!”

He pulled you away and rested his hand on your cheek and gave you a beaming smile “I know love, I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit for the last few years. But my mother has been stuffing my head with knowledge, I guess you’ve been in the same situation with your dad?”

“Yeah can’t deny that one” You returned his smile and rested your hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. Tom and his family were close allies with yours, and you didn’t mind one bit. The two of you had worked closely all your lives to make sure that the family’s contact in Britain was stronger than ever. After all, he was the one to take over his family’s dynasty.

His mother had taken over her family business, which is how she met his father. A charming man who was the principal of the halls you now walked. Because of his mother, Tom had learned from an early age that women were just as powerful, if not even more than men. Which was another reason why the two of you were so close.

You finally let go of each other to allow the boys to say hi to their friend as well. Jimin basically jumped into his arms as he screamed “Holland!” through the hall. He returned the happy welcome with a “Park!” the two of them laughing as they stood in the hallway in the arms of the other.

After they’ve all catched up a little he led you all up the stairs to what he called the dorms.

“They are a lot bigger than American dorm rooms on college campuses, so don’t worry there should be enough space for you all. The bigger families live in this hall which is where you’ll be staying as well. And don’t worry I’m close by as well” He winked at you, earning him an eye roll from all the boys. 

He then opened a door that led you all to a big hall. People were running back and forth between the rooms trying to get their belongings from the right suitcases. Everything from makeup-bags to shoes and guns were thrown from one room to another.

It was a sight for sore eyes. All the young men and women who the world feared and wanted to bring down, had come together in one building. Any outsider would fear every one of you and run to the hills if they saw the hall that lied before you. But you, however, felt right at home.

The door behind you shut closed and the room became quiet as all eyes were on you. People knew the four of you by reputation, but none except the Holland family had met you up until now. And suddenly you were grateful that you’d dressed somewhat intimidatingly.

Your hair hung loose and framed your face. You wore a tight fitted t-shirt and completely black cargo pants. Held up by a belt. Your katana was on full display, as you could see the handle stick out beside your head. Letting people know exactly who you were. The same did the tattoo and the ring on your left arm and hand.

The boys were dressed similarly, Jungkook in a turtleneck and a bumper jacket, Hoseok in his Dior attire with the sniper case in hand. And Jimin in a v-neck which showed off his tattoo that traveled from his neck to his chest.

You didn’t know exactly what people were thinking, but you could see both the respect and fear displayed on their faces. As you walked past people they started talking once again, getting back to their crackhead behavior. And when you were almost at the end of the hall a boy came running out one of the rooms, stopping you in your tracks.

He had light, almost silver blond hair and a gummy smile on his lips as he crashed into the wall on the other side. In his arms he had both towels and clothes, making you wonder what exactly he’d been up too. He rested against the wall, laughing.

Not long after you heard a yell from the room which the silver-boy had just escaped.

“Hyung!!!”

A blue haired boy came out into the hall completely naked, with only his hands covering his junk.

“Give it back now! Jesus Christ Yoongi I’m not in the mood for this right now okay?” His eyes were focused on the boy who was now sitting on the floor trying to contain his laughter, not even realising you and the five other people who had a perfect view of his naked form.

“A-hem…” Tom cleared his throat to get his attention. His eyes suddenly landed on you and the boys which caused a deep blush to creep up in that amazingly gorgeous face of his. He gave you an embarrassed boxy smile and bowed towards all of you.

“You’ll have to excuse me; this was not how I wanted to greet you…” His smile disappeared quickly as he looked back at the boy, which you assumed to be Yoongi. Rage was burning in his eyes.

“Okay, so now you’ve humiliated me in front of them, can I please have my clothes back?!”

The boy stood up and shoved the fabrics into the hands of the boy.

“Sure Tae, but remember to keep them hidden, or I might come back” He winked at the man who quickly ran back into his room.

With a smile still on display he straightened his shirt and turned towards you. He was every bit as beautiful as the other, there was a spark in his hooded eyes and. it almost took your breath away. 

“Blade Park I assume?” he raised one of his brows as he looked into your eyes, as well as your soul. You figured the man was used to women who crumbled before him. But you were no ordinary woman.

“You are correct Min Yoongi” You returned his stern but somehow flirty look and decided that a little smirk wouldn’t be completely unprofessional, and he returned it a split second later. 

“I hope they didn’t scare you off with their somewhat childish behaviour. I promise they’re usually a lot more professional” A voice said. 

Up against one of the door frames stood a man taller than most. He looked right through you, as his dragon eyes searched for your soul. His smile was big, and revealed a dimple in either side of his cheeks. You could feel how your finger twitched as your intrusive thoughts told you to poke them. 

His arms were crossed over his chest that looked both rock hard, and like the world's most comfortable pillow. And on his left arm was a dragon tattooed in all of its glory. Unlike your tattoo his were colourful, and it was made in a way that almost made it look like it was about to fly off his skin and into the world. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. 

“Kim Namjoon. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you” You smiled, but refused to bow even though it might’ve been the polite thing to do. 

He smirked at you and took three long strides towards you before he bowed down in a 90 degree angle before you. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine Park” 

He looked over the men who stood behind you, ready to pounce on sight if he were to attack you. He would never admit it, but his heart was pounding in his chest. And all he could do was concentrate on his breathing whenever his eyes met yours. He hoped his voice wouldn’t fail him, at least not in front of you. 

There was something about him, it was almost as if he hid behind this hard, smug and flirty persona. But something told you that there was more to him than what he showed you in this exact moment. You would love to break all of his walls just to learn what secrets his eyes held. 

The Kim family were also a Korean based mafia. Your biggest competitors even though your dynasty were far more successful. The Parks dealt in weapons and assassinations, both public and under the radar, where the Kims were more into hacking, poison and espionage. It did however mean that you never had problems with stealing deals from one another, and because of that there was no bad blood between your families. 

Despite the occasional stealing talent from the ranks of each other's trainees. You knew Namjoons father had approached Hoseok at one point, just as your father had tried to sweet talk Namjoons older brother. 

You could feel Hoseok's restlessness by your side, you knew all he wanted was to grab you and pull you far away from the black haired boy who stood before you. But instead he gave him a nod, acknowledging that he after all held a higher position than he did.

Namjoon looked towards Hoseok and as he crossed his heavily tattooed arms in front of his chest he said: “Ahh you must be the famous J-hope! I’ve seen your work, you’re skilled, might be one of the best assassins to come out of Asia in generations! I would’ve loved to have you by my side” 

Hoseok was incredibly talented with whatever weapon the situation demanded from him. But behind the ruthless killer was a sunshine personality and a kindness unlike any other. Which is why you nicknamed him Hope ten years ago, a name he’d chosen to keep. It was a little sinister, but he'd always said it fit. 

“My loyalty can’t be bought, it’s earned. So maybe it’s for the best” Hoseok said as he smiled coldly at Namjoon. But his eyes never left you, which made Namjoon believe his statement. 

He did his best to kill the smile that was threatening to make an appearance, and luckily for him his thoughts were distracted by a voice who called out his name. He turned his body towards the sound, but his eyes never left the four of you.

“Jin get out here and meet the Parks”

A figure almost as tall as Namjoon appeared from one of the rooms and he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked as wide as Jimin was tall. His lips were plump and looked almost like a heart, his skin was flawless and the purple strands of hair made him look like he belonged at Olympus with the gods. 

“Blade, I would like to introduce you to my older brother, Seokjin” Namjoon said as he gestured towards him. 

“Kim Seokjin?” You said as you looked at him. He bowed before you and as his eyes captured yours as he said: “In the flesh miss Park”

“You have quite the reputation Seokjin”

“Please call me Jin”

“Jin… My father speaks highly of you, apparently you are the one to get a hold of if you need any kind of poison?”

He sent you a look and a small and shy smile.

“Well I’ll take that as a compliment, but yes, I guess I’m your guy then”

“If I needed help with a discrete job, would you be open for a discussion?” 

“I don’t do dirty work, but for a discussion amongst friends? I’ll clear my schedule, just let me know” He sounded like his voice was dipped in honey. Sweet and alluring. 

Namjoon looked at his feet and twisted his ring on his left hand. He wasn’t pleased with the eyes you send towards his brother, not that he wasn’t used to him stealing all the women's attention whenever he walked into a room, but somehow it bothered him that he stole yours. 

You smiled at his little tick, a warm smile that was rare for anyone other than your family to see. Cute, he does it too. You thought. 

He quickly catched your eyes, and sent what felt like a genuine smile back at you. It almost made you blush. Almost. 

You then looked towards Yoongi, the gummy smiled man who apparently was a stealer of clothes. 

“And this is Yoongi, he’s my right-hand man”

He looked sleepy, and a little bored. A big contrast to your first encounter a few minutes ago. He bowed like the others and sent a small wave your way. 

“I’ve studied you from afar Blade, tell me why that nickname?” Yoongi asked

Just as you were about to speak you heard Jungkook’s voice, you turned to look at the man as he spoke. His face held no emotion, and he stared down the tree men as he spoke.

“She’s the best with a katana our dynasty has ever seen, yours too if I’m not mistaken”

You could see the impressed expressions in the faces before you. An embarrassed giggle left your throat before you had a chance to kill it and looked at your feet while you twisted your ring, just as Namjoon had done a minute ago. Cute. He thought. Your hair tried to hide your face and the blush that came creeping in after Jungkook's compliment. 

The boys all smiled at the sound, each of them wondering just how it would feel to be the one to tuck the strands of hair behind your ear. Jimin didn’t let their looks go unnoticed, as he made himself a mental note to keep you as far away from them as he could.

“Impressive… That I must say, but if you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?”

“That’ll be something you learn when you’ve earned my respect Namjoon”

You saw a spark in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, making you wonder if it was even there in the first place.

“Hey, where’s Taehyung?” Jin asked.

“Naked guy? I think he was getting dressed…” Jimin answered.

“Yoongi you didn’t” Jin groaned as he brought his large hand to his face.

“Hey! Don’t act like you’ve never teased our maknae” His gummy smile was once again on full display and the spark had returned to his eyes. 

“Maybe it would be a good idea to go check on him, you know how he gets if we leave him alone for too long” Namjoon said 

“That however is a universal maknae thing I think” You said and looked at Jungkook who smiled back at you. 

Tom started shifting his weight from one foot to another, an indicator that it was about time they got moving. After all, you hadn’t settled in yet.

“I think we’ll get going guys, it was nice meeting you”

“Hope to see you soon,” Namjoon answered, but it wasn’t more than a whisper, so you never heard it. 

As you walked past them Hoseok draped his long arm around your shoulders, hoping the brothers would know who you belonged to. 

Namjoon walked back into his room with a giant smile on his lips. Public displays of affection were always annoying and always felt unnecessary to him. But this time around he almost laughed at the attempt to establish dominance. 

“What’s wrong hyung?”

He looked up at Taehyung's face, he looked like a giant question mark with his big eyes and slightly open mouth. He winked at him, hoping it would calm his mind. 

“Nothing Tae, it’s nothing…” He said. 

Taehyung took a few steps towards the bed as he dried his still wet hair in the towel. He playfully hit Namjoons leg, and he moved it to make room for him on the bed.

“Are you sure?” 

The young man had his arms crossed before his chest. Namjoon had always been different from his brothers, more extroverted, more vocal but still more calm and down to earth. Both Jin and Tae were walking flirts, beautiful as if they’d been sculpted by Aphrodite herself, and yet they were introverted, each of them living in their own worlds, that only he could pull them from. 

It was why he was chosen as leader instead of Seokjin. He had the ability to be great, and his parents had known that since he was born. It was as if it was written in the stars. 

“No?” he sighed as he stood up. “I don't know what I’m feeling” 

“You wanna work with her don’t you? You want her as an ally” 

“That and so much more, but you don’t just ask a woman like that for what you want,” Namjoon said as he buried his face in his hands. 

“Why?”

Namjoon made a face and looked at Taehyung with disbelief written all over it.

“You have to earn it little brother, and that takes time. Lot’s and lots of time.” 

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders and answered

“So?” Taehyung answered. I mean we’re here for a year, she now lives just two doors down, this is like the best chance you’ll ever get. 

“He’s not wrong Namjoon,” Yoongi said from the bathroom that connected his room to his leaders. “In the end we’re here to get allies, she might be up for it. 

“How about we start out by settling in and then we can think about all of this later on?” 

“We can do that, but be honest… You just wanna lay down and daydream about Blade” Yoongi teased as he quickly dodged the pillow Namjoon had thrown his way.

[potaetopic]

oh god, what a ride of roller coaster! i cried, laughed, swoons over them, pains for them, oh god.

The Return of an Empress Masterlist

Title: The Return of an Empress

Status: Completed

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut 

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Total Word Count:  280,808

Smut - | ☼ |  Fluff - | ♡ |  Angst - | ☆ |

Keep reading

[borathae]

Too Sweet

“You’re too sweet for him, but he can’t get enough of the taste. Even if lately he makes you feel as if he has. Taehyung doesn’t like that you feel this way, showing you that the only drug he ever needs is you.”

Pairing: Gangster!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: crime!AU, established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: mention of past smoking, mention of murder as well as blood & violence, Dom!Taehyung, sub!Reader, lingerie kink, hand kink, dirty talk, praise, he calls her his slut fondly, he also calls her babygirl and (baby)doll, the title Sir is said like three times, cockwarming in his office chair, desperate sex on top of his office desk, DP of her pussy with his cock & fingers, choking without applying pressure, bondage with his tie, strength kink, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), squirting, he fucks her so good she pees a little jjsjsj, creampie, subby girl tears, he is as gentle with her as he is rough (sexy), smol ownership kink, kinda exhibitionism cause they fuck loudly with his guards outside the doors, hints at female masturbation, allusion to somnophilia, breast play with painless tit spanking, idk if this is warning worthy but he is a little "dismissive" of her feeling neglected by fucking her instead of listening to her, but he apologises healthily in the end and keeps being all "fuck, I misssed you" during sex, cuddles and kisses and praise for aftercare hihi

Wordcount: 5.6k

a/n: this is based on this post and all of you guys' wishes ohoho. it's definitely less on the soft Dom!Tae side because a bitch (me) wrote this during full ovulation bloom and i quite frankly felt like a bitch (dog) in heat ajjajsjs have fun besties 🤎

Taehyung was working late. He is at home for a change and you thought that it would mean you could see him more, but that wasn’t the case. You haven’t seen him at all today, not even in the morning because he locked himself in his office before you woke and during lunch time, he asked one of his men to bring the food to his office. You can’t stand it when he is like this. 

You know that Taehyung was a busy man. If he wasn’t gone, tending to missions or assassinating his targets, he was holed up in his office, allowing no one to come in. No one. Not even you, his woman. 

You normally don’t mind that he is absent, having your own things to do. But it has been days since you last saw him and you are getting needy. Not only for his attention, but also for his touch. You noticed it starting when you woke up all alone – like always these past few days – with thick, warm slick between your legs and a deep pit in your stomach only his cock could fill. You tried to get rid of it, but no matter how you touched yourself, it wasn’t enough. You missed Taehyung. You missed his touch and how he can turn you into puddy between his fingers. He gets off on the power. Taehyung is twisted like that, giving it to you with a taunting smirk on his lips which so very often makes you shudder. Sometimes he also looks at you as if you were his prey, as if you were one of the many fuckers he tortures on a daily. And you get off to it, craving exactly this look tonight.

Taehyung’s world wasn’t normal or on the bright side of the law. Taehyung’s world was as twisted as him, it was filled with drugs, murder and betrayal and reeked of dirty money and expensive alcohol. 

You slithered into it eight years ago with no chance of escaping. It all began when you came home to your younger siblings slaughtered and your belongings missing. Your parents had died years before and as the eldest of four, you took on the role of mother and father for your younger siblings. They were three, six and eleven when they were murdered. You were only twenty. The law didn’t help you. They dismissed it because of too little evidence, called it a case unsolvable and told you to leave when you begged them to continue the search. You met Taehyung in front of the police station. It rained that day and the air smelled of messy endings – or new beginnings, however one might interpret the meeting. He called you to the dark alleyway he was hiding in and offered you a drag of the cigarette he was smoking, which you declined while he took it for you with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“I can find the killers of your family”, he had told you.

“How do you know what happened to them?” you had asked him.

He pointed at the police station, “I know a lot of things in this city. Things these bastards up there could only dream of knowing. I know your name and that someone killed your three siblings. I also know that your parents died two years ago and that their deaths are connected to these murders.”

“Who are you?” you asked him.

“You can call me Vante, my real name isn’t important”, he told you, not knowing that one day he will have you screaming his real name for him each night as he made the messiest love to you.

“Why are you helping me?”

Taehyung took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled it through his nose. He stepped closer, drawing you in with his eyes. Something sick and twisted glimmered in them and you had found yourself gazing at it in awe. 

“Are you taking my help or not? My cigarette is running out and I’m not about to light another one”, he stressed back then, unaware that one day the only drug he will need in his lungs was your air.

Many years have passed since then. The world darkened in these years. Taehyung lost the playful spark he had back then, while you lost the innocence a normal person without criminal ties possessed. You know how a stranger’s blood feels on your hands these days, know how disgusting humans are once they die and their muscles give up and you know the bitter taste of lonely nights when Taehyung stays out longer than planned. 

You can’t take the taste anymore. You crave the sweetness of his kiss, the saccharine traces of his touch and the honey timbre of his voice.

Taehyung is locked up in his office and doesn’t let anyone in, but you can’t take it anymore. You have to see him. 

Two of his men are guarding the door. Their eyes flit to your cleavage but shoot away instantly, their bodies tense as they try not to look again. Looking at you in the wrong way will cost them their eyes. Taehyung would make sure of that. Just as he made sure that the killer of your family got the ending they deserved. You knew that you were twisted when you felt joy and desire as you watched him slaughter them instead of horror and disgust. You remember fucking him, bloodied and dirty, just beside the bodies of your family’s killer while Taehyung moaned into your mouth, drugged out and high on slaughtering. You haven’t been separated since. Except for these last few days. Fuck, you miss him.

“Master Vante wishes not to be distracted”, his guards try to stop you.

“I want to see him.”

“He told us not to let anyone in. Not even you, Mistress.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Vante!” you call out. 

Moments later the door opens. Taehyung looks at you, then your skimpy outfit, then his guards. 

“You told them to keep me outside?” you ask him, cocking a brow at him.

Taehyung glares at his guards. They avoid eye contact, gawking at the front with pearls of anxious sweat on their foreheads.

“Come in”, Taehyung tells you darkly, stepping out of the doorframe.

With a triumphant bounce in your step, you enter his office. The main lights were off, only his green table lamp was on, tinting the room a mixture of orange and green. 

Taehyung closes the door and locks it, turning to you quickly to grab your wrist.

“What are you thinking?” he hisses.

“I miss you.”

“And that gives you the right to walk around like this in front of my men?” 

You are wearing lingerie and a see-through, short rope. Both blood red in colour. They hug your curves at the best parts and match with the colour of your lipstick. 

“Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?” you act oblivious on purpose, craving the fire in his eyes only you can ignite.

Taehyung furrows his brows. The fire burns deep. You, quite frankly, almost moan because of it. This is exactly the warmth you missed these past cold nights.

“I miss you, Tae. I go to bed alone and wake up just as alone. I miss you so fucking much.”

Taehyung clenches his jaw. He slides his hand from your wrist and steps back.

“I have a lot to do”, he says, retreating back to his desk. 

The distance is cold. Yes, the years took his playfulness, but they never took his affection for you. His distance is cold because it was never there before.

“Did I do something?” you ask him quietly.

Taehyung lifts his eyes from his papers. 

“What makes you think that?”

“You aren’t coming to bed with me anymore.”

“I am. You’re just always sleeping already.”

“You don’t hold me in the morning.”

“I do. You’re just always sleeping still.”

“You lock me out of your office.”

“There’s stuff in here I don’t want you to see.”

“You don’t want to fuck me in this outfit.”

Taehyung purses his lips. 

“You normally always do.”

“I want to do the most sinful things to you, don’t mistake my indifference with lack of desire. If I didn’t have so much shit to do, I’d bend you over this desk and fuck days worth of cum into you.”

You moan with your knees buckling. Taehyung watches it happen, allowing you to know it affects him by loosening his tie a little.

“Did you like that?” he asks – rasps. 

You nod your head, giving him pleading puppy eyes.

“Come here.”

You obey his orders instantly, hurrying to his desk so you could stand in front of him.

Taehyung spreads his legs, leaning back in his chair. It creaks as he does. He runs his hand over his chin, taking you in with fiery eyes. 

“What do you really want?”

“Your touch.”

“Don’t keep stuff from me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want.” You gasp for air. “Oh god, Tae. Don’t make me.”

He darkens his eyes, chewing imaginary gum.

“If you want me to help you, you gotta tell me. You know how deals with me work.”

How could you forget. Making a deal with Taehyung is what brought you here. Letting him find your family’s killer is what made you into the obsessed woman you are today. 

You didn’t have to accept his deal back then, but you did. You took the cigarette and finished it in one inhale, sealing not only your deal with him, but also your fate. 

“I want you to touch me. I’ve been wet since the morning and I can’t stop it.”

His eyes skim over your crotch. His chest rises and sinks in one deep, affected breath.

“Did you try stopping it?”

“Yeah.”

“How?” 

You shy away. Taehyung sits up, hovering his hand over your waist without touching you. It aches not to be touched by him. 

“Don’t be shy now. Tell me how you took care of it.”

“I touched myself”, you whisper.

Taehyung purrs, “you touched yourself. What a bad girl. I can’t remember giving you permission.”

“You haven’t been there for me for days.”

He smiles. The first of the day. It makes your knees weak.

“So it’s my fault?”

“Yes.”

His smile grows. He follows his hand with his eyes as he travels it along your curves. The touch never comes. It drives you insane to have him so close but still be denied the honey warmth of his hands.

“If I knew how fucking needy you were, I’d have fucked you in your sleep.”

You whimper. 

He looks up, meets your eyes in fiery desire.

“I’d have infiltrated your dreams and made you cream my cock before you could even wake up.”

“Please touch me, please”, you beg because you have already reached your breaking point.

He chuckles, chewing gum again.

“I can touch you in lots of ways. Be more specific.”

“Cock. I want cock.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach nonchalantly. You gawk at them. You crave their touch. Fuck, please.

“Alright”, he says coolly. 

“Really?” you gasp, stumbling because your knees actually gave up on you. Taehyung is on his feet instantly, lifting you onto his desk and holding you between his strong hands. 

“Careful. Are you okay?” he asks, studying your features worriedly.

Despite all the killing he is doing, all the fighting and rough work, his palms are soft. Feeling them on your skin makes you moan. Finally. His touch heals you.

“I want to be fucked so bad”, you beg.

Taehyung chuckles, “shit, you’re gone for.”

“Please”, you open your legs, showing him your wet panties. 

Taehyung licks his lips, gulping heavily. You are soaking the documents under you. Fuck, you haven’t been that wet in ages. Taehyung wants to pump his digits into you, fuck your slickened cunt hard and fast, get his cock creamed. But he holds back. He still has work to do and he knows exactly how to take care of you in a way which still allows him to do what he needs to do. 

“Wrists out.”

You obey his orders.

“From now on, your safeword is Red and your life line is humming our song. Understood?” he tells you as he opens his red tie.

“Yes, Sir”, you whimper, leaking all over his desk.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl when you listen so well.” He pulls your wrists closer, wrapping the tie around them a few times. 

You are heaving. You can’t handle how much all of this excites you. 

“Too tight?” he makes sure, rubbing your knuckles gently. Each touch he places makes you want to scream. You missed it so much. 

“No, just right.”

“That’s good”, he says and lifts your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Each of them. Without breaking eye contact. You are truly puddy in his hands. “You know why I have to do this, don’t you?”

“I touched myself without your permission.”

“Exactly, bad girl”, he says with a playful spark in his eyes. 

You have to giggle because of it, writhing on his desk. Off of said desk he lifts you moments later. 

He sits back down on his chair and begins unbuckling his slacks. 

“Tae”, you moan, pressing your legs together. Finally. Finally. Finally. 

He opens his belt, his button, his zipper. He slides his hand inside. Seconds later, it reappears with his cock between his fingers. He’s already hard and throbbing, sitting heavy in his touch.

You ogle him, drooling all over yourself.

“What do you want to do to it?” Taehyung orders you.

“Sit on it.”

“What a naughty girl, mhhhm”, he rolls his head back, arches his back as he puts on a show of jerking himself off.

This is to rile you up, to show you what you currently don’t have.

“Please, can I have it?” you beg, fighting your restrains. 

“Mhm, take it.”

“Oh god, oh god.”

You fail to climb on his lap on your own and so Taehyung helps you with a guiding touch. He even pulls your panties aside for you, holding his cock in place as you sink down on him. It squelches wetly. 

Taehyung tenses his thighs for just a second, biting down on his lower lip as a deep purr rumbles in his chest.

You totally lose it, falling against his chest with your tied up hands trying to grab his shirt. Your lips press against his neck. He smells masculine and clean. 

“Taehyung”, your moan is filled with relief and ecstasy. 

“You weren’t lying. You’re so fucking wet.”

You move instantly. Messily and needily. You move. Move. Get stopped. 

With both hands dimpling your hips, Taehyung is keeping you still. He ignores your pleading whimpers and your distressed gasps. Instead he rolls closer to his desk and straightens up, picking up his pen.

“That’s perfect. Keep my cock warm like this”, he says nonchalantly.

“Wh-what?” you are out of breath, close to tears. You want cock so bad and you finally have it, but he is denying you to move? Does he want to make you cry? You can’t get any more desperate and yet he wants to prove you wrong. 

You lift your head from his neck. Taehyung glances at you.  

“You didn’t think that I’d allow you to move after the stunt you pulled, did you?” he taunts, chewing gum again.

“What stunt?”

He stops chewing, lowering his eyes darkly.

“When you showed yourself like this in front of my men. When you touched yourself without my permission. When you barged into my office and accused me of neglecting you.”

“You have been neglecting me.”

“Careful”, he warns, bucking his hips up.

You moan, rolling your eyes back as your body wobbles in defeat.

Taehyung pulls you closer, keeping you steady that way. He fucks into you again, gritting his teeth while you whimper like a happy slut. Your cunt is so fucking puffy, sucking in his cock greedily. Every voice in his head is telling Taehyung to drop his work and fuck you senseless. But he can’t. He has a point to prove.

“I’m allowing you to be in my office and to sit on my cock, but anymore backtalk and I’ll gag you”, he warns even if talking is hard.

You spill tears.

“Please more.”

He wipes your tears, caressing your chin afterwards.

“Patience, I still have to work”, he tells you and looks back at the papers.

“Oh god, please”, you plead, hiding back in his neck. You want to move, but you can’t because he is keeping an iron grip on your hips. All you can do is sit on his lap with his girthy cock deep inside you. And you can’t even run your hands over him. You wiggle them in their restraints, begging against his neck.

“Please Tae, please.”

“Patience. It’s only been half a minute.”

It felt like three hours. You need him pumping into you. Warming his cock isn’t enough. 

Time passes. You don’t know how much, but it’s too much for you. All you can concentrate on is his cock. He is so hard inside you. So big and girthy. You were never so aware of being filled than you are currently. You can feel every inch sitting inside you and how he is stretching you out. The pit in your stomach is shrinking but it’s still there because you aren’t allowed to move. You clench your pelvic muscles. Electricity runs through you. This helped. When you tense up, you can feel him press against your sensitive spots. 

Dumb in desperation, you start chasing the sensation. You clench, relax, clench, relax. Over and over. It feels so good. You finally have what you had craved for days. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung soon breaks the silence, reminding you that he could feel as well. 

You tense up, feeling dizzy. You forgot that it’s noticeable to him when you clench down. 

“Mhm? What are you doing?” he stresses, digging his thumb into your softness. 

“It hurts.” His touch loosens, but tightens again when you continue whining. “It’s not enough, please let me move.” 

Taehyung takes a deep breath, keeps it in for a moment and exhales it in time with his big hand sliding to the small of your back. 

He gives it a small push, moving you like this. You shudder instantly, leaking on his cock. He moves you again and you pick up on it instantly, meeting his movements needily. 

“Nuh-uh.” He slows you down with just one touch. “Like this. Understood?”

“Yeah”, you whimper, obeying his orders.

“Good girl, such a good girl”, he praises and shifts his attention back to work.

So now he’s got you grinding down on his cock. He is glad that he is sitting because it turns his legs weak. He missed your warmth like nothing else. Concentrating on his work is definitely becoming difficult but he is stubborn. He needs to keep cool a little longer. 

You are in a state of ecstasy, panting and drooling against his neck as you finally have what you craved. You have his cock moving inside you. Now granted, the movements are just small grinds back and forth, but it’s like a drug to you. He shifts deep inside you, prods at your puffy walls and swollen good spots and the folds of his slacks are rubbing against your clit. You have his big hand on your back, rubbing circles into your thinly dressed skin. Everything is just perfect. Taehyung might think he is giving you a punishment with such little movements, but you are in fucking heaven. This is exactly what you needed. 

Taehyung doesn’t realise the gravity of his mistake up until the point you suddenly tense up and squeak his name. But by then it is already too late. He has you throbbing around him seconds later as you orgasm as if you never had before.

You whimper, trying so hard not to shake and tremble, but Taehyung can feel it nonetheless. It’s squeezing his cock. 

“You fucking-”, Taehyung growls, throwing his pen aside. His composure is broken. He stands up with you and swipes his desk clean just so he can lie you down on it. He takes your hands and pins then above your head, staring down at you with crazed eyes and gritted teeth. “You’re such a fucking temptress. How dare you cum like that.”

You are barely present after your high, writhing and twitching on the desk. He thrusts his hips. Consciousness returns. The sensitive, fucked state of you is obvious again. 

You squeak his name and arch your back as your eyes finally meet his’. His pupils are blown out, he has a sense of craze in his face. 

“I should tie a vibrator to you and leave you shaking by my feet for what you’re doing to me”, he spits as he finally drills his cock into you. Hard and rough. The desk shakes because of it. Your body does as well. “I have work to do and you’re messing with my schedule. I should punish you, but fuck”, he buries himself as deep as possible and write his name against your walls, “you fucked me up. Just wanna pound into you”, he laughs lazily, following it up with a lulled “fuuck.”

“Harder please”, you beg, riding on the high with your head turning. 

Taehyung fulfills your wish with a growl. His fingers dig into the softness of your thighs so he can keep you in place as he fucks you into a state of senseless on his desk. You answer his guttural growls with high pitched wails of gratefulness. You finally have what you needed. You have his entire attention. And it feels so fucking good. 

It is finally obvious to you how much Taehyung missed you too. He only fucks like that when he hasn’t been with you for a while. He only grips you with such strength when his fingers hadn’t felt your softness in ages. He is only so out of breath when your air hasn’t filled his addicted lungs for some time. 

“I missed you”, he gets out. 

You meet his eyes. Tears escape you easily. He slows down and leans over you to wipe them gently. A moment of tenderness in the passion. A moment to remind you that he loves no person as much and as deeply as he loves you.

“I missed you so fucking much”, he rasps and slides his hand to your neck to rest on it. No pressure. Just contact. His hips pick up speed, claiming you as his’ in more ways than one. 

And you roll your eyes back without closing them, melting into the desk as he rearranges your insides. The pit is finally being filled. The fire is finally burning you again. You are so happy, moaning his name as loudly as possible. 

“Yes baby, moan for me. It turns me on. Moan for me.”

His guards just right outside the door are non-existent to you and him right now. The fact that they most definitely can hear you, hasn’t sunk in yet. You and Taehyung are lost in passion. You have to pick up on days of absence, you have to fuck until the desperation is finally gone from your systems. Fuck, you need each other so fucking bad. 

“You feel so good, my good girl. Love filling you with my cock. So good, fuck so good. You’re taking me like such a good girl”, Taehyung is babbling. He always gets like this when the sex just hits right. He loses control over his tongue and begins spitting whatever dirty thoughts run through his foggy mind. “My good girl, my fucking slut. Look at you. Fuck.”

His right hand cups your tits, playing with them roughly. The touch is heaven. Even through the material of your lingerie you can feel it.

“Taehyung”, you wail, arching into his touch.

“I hate that you thought I don’t wanna fuck you in this. Shit, I want you like fucking crazy”, he moans and gives your tits a gentle spank. Just hard enough that they jiggle for a moment, but still gentle enough that no pain shoots over your skin. 

You still sob and mewl for him, writhing on the desk like a woman brought to her limits. And you are. He is bringing you to your limits, pushing you right past them because he is twisted like that.

“Fuck, you’re cumming again?” he slows down.

“Don’t stop please. Faster!”

And you enjoy every second of it because you are just as twisted. It burns so deep when he is rough during your orgasm and you need it to continue burning.

“Urgh fine”, he is tensing his jaw, furrowing his brows, “you’re so tight. Your pussy’s sucking me off. Shit, ah- babygirl ahm mhh urgh.”

Taehyung wants to crumble on the floor. Every inch of his body is electric. You have him so high. And it doesn’t stop. His cock is throbbing. He swears he hasn’t been that hard in ages. He might actually pass out from how much blood is shooting to his dick. But he’s got a deal to fulfil. He promised you relief and Taehyung isn’t going to disappoint. He isn’t the type to break deals. No matter how much they ruin him. And you are ruining him like nothing else. 

You are so tight after your high, so wet that it is difficult for his cock not to slip out. It’s squelching out of you, messing up not only your connected bodies but his desk as well.

“You’ll be the death of me”, he gets out.

“More.”

“More?” he squeaks out, following it up with a disbelieved laugh, “how much hotter do you wanna be burn?”

“Until I’m reduced to piles of ash”, you croak and grab his wrist with your tied hands. You guide it to your middle. 

Taehyung picks up on your silent message instantly, rubbing circles into your puffy clit. 

“No”, you mewl, “stick them in, please.”

Taehyung growls needily. He gets a little dumb in pleasure when you reach the point where you beg for what you want without shame. He is so obsessed with you it’s crazy. 

Taehyung slows down to make it easier and slips one of his fingers into your cunt. The tightness makes both of you gasp.

“I’m going insane, fuck”, Taehyung croaks, staring at the pretty view obsessively. His huge cock inside you, his finger right beside it, your puffy lips moving around him and your red lace panties stretching against his shaft. “You’re so stuffed with me. Does it feel good to you?” 

“Another.”

“Shit, you’re actually killing me.”

His second digit fills you just as easily, pressing against your swollen g-spot. You whimper and squirm, tensing around him. He glances at your face. It is scrunched up, skin glistening in a layer of sweat and pleasurable tears.

“Too much?” he makes sure.

“No, perfect. Please move”, you squeak out.

Taehyung huffs out air, giving you exactly what you ask of him. The friction is unbearable, the pressure around his cock is making his knees shake but he keeps moving. You are moaning so prettily for him, stretching your tied up arms above your head as if you wanted to reach for the stars he is making you see. 

“My perfect woman. Urgh my…pretty….slut….my princess, urgh…is this what you…wanted?” 

“Yes, yes, yes”, you squeal and keen, glowing in happiness.

“So beautiful, I’m going insane”, he moans and wraps his unoccupied hand around your neck again. No pressure, just warmth. He doesn’t have to squeeze down to let you know that you belong to him. Not that you need a reminder. You belong to him willingly. 

It was over for you the moment your eyes locked. You had been his’ ever since you shared this fateful cigarette in the dark alleyway while the rain poured down on you. You are his’. No amount of distance will ever change this. 

His hand around your throat is nothing but a warm reminder that he feels the same. His palms are soft, his heavy rings are hard and warmed up from his body heat. The touch is so tender, contradicting to what his other hand was currently doing to you. He is curling his long fingers as best as your tight walls allow him to, matching the rhythm with that of his eager hips. You stopped moaning because you lost the connection to your voice. Breathe. You have to concentrate on breathing otherwise you might pass out. 

“Fuck, I can feel you clenching again. My good girl, taking me so well and looking so pretty doing it. Shit, my slut, fuck sorry I meant my pretty girl. Urgh baby, are you cumming again?”

You give him a small, fragile squeak then break on his digits and cock. You squirt all over him within seconds, screaming his name because it is all you can do. 

“Yes fuck.” He abandons your neck and presses down on your stomach to the point where you can’t tell whether he is still making you squirt or you are already pissing yourself. You don’t mind, riding the feeling with messy tears and a snotty nose. His documents and clothes are ruined, but you can’t stop. 

“Give me everything, that’s my good babygirl. I love it when you fucking wet yourself like that. Shit, I can’t do this for long anymore. Getting sensitive, mh-hm.”

“Please cum inside.”

His hips falter.

“Please, please, ah! Please!” you beg him, making up for the loss of movement by wiggling your hips until he finally picks up his rough pace again.

Taehyung leans down, pinning you against the desk with his bigger frame. He slips his fingers free from your tight cunt, so he can wrap his arm around you. His left hand closes around your throat, his lips are pressed to your ear as he talks dirty to you.

“I’m gonna cum so good for you, doll. I saved up so much for you. Gonna fill you up with all of it until you’re dripping.”

“Please, please, please”, you beg with tears in your eyes.

“Yeah? You want this cum?”

“Yes please, yes please.”

“Shit babygirl, urgh”, Taehyung growls through gritted teeth, squeezing down on your neck as he empties his heavy balls into your cunt. 

You can feel it shoot out of him and cover your walls to the point where you can’t keep it inside anymore. It drips onto the floor, messing up his cock and balls.

“Take my cum. Fuck, such a good girl. You’re made for my cum, urgh fuck”, Taehyung talks himself through it, holding you against him in his strong, protective arm. And you wail his name, wishing for his sticky cum to stay inside forever. 

He slacks against you after his high, dropping with a whimper of your name. 

“What the fuck, woah”, he gets out, trembling in the aftershocks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes”, you get out weakly.

“I kid you not. Fuck”, he exhales deeply. “Put your arms around me.” 

You obey his orders, mewling weakly when he lifts you off the desk and sits you down on him as he sinks into the chair in defeat. His cum oozes out and squelches everywhere, but it’s only a little amount compared to how much was still inside you.

He slacks against the chair, gazing up at you with half lidded eyes. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. He unties your hands.

“Do they hurt?”

“No”, you assure him, touching him instantly. He feels so strong and warm under your hands. His heart is racing so much. You needed this reminder. The reminder that you can still raise his pulse.

Taehyung closes his eyes halfway. “I love you”, he lulls, following it up with a smile.

“I love you too”, you whisper, lowering your eyes just sadly enough that he worries.

He furrows his brows, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin.

“What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head.

“Talk to me.”

“Can I be kissed?”

His features soften.

“You’re so cute. Of course you can. Come here, babydoll”, he says and slides his big hand to the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss. 

You melt into it with a fluttering heart and no thought in your brain except the repeated cheers about how much you love him. You roll your hips down into him. He tenses up, breaking the kiss with a whiney chuckle.

“What are you doing?” 

“Please don’t go back to working, please I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“I won’t work, just…” He arches his back. “Give me time to recover, ah too sensitive.”

“Please Tae”, you beg, grinding down on him despite his begs.

“Fuck, did I really neglect you that much that you can’t be satisfied no matter what I do?” he groans.

“Yes”, you get out and pull him into a kiss.

“I’m sorry. Shit, gotta make it up to you then”, he mumbles between kisses, hugging you against him as you giggle into the kisses. “Come here you adorable temptress you.”

“Ah Tae. Wait. That tickles”, you squeak in laughter as you and he lose yourselves in a tingly, passionate dance of grinding, kisses and love bites.

[curryshesus]

bts fics that give me life in a drought

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 2

didn't expect to make a part 2 so soon but seeing how much recognition the first one got, here we are! some of these contain a hearty amount of angst, and oh they're just simply divine :( once again, please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did!

➺ knife’s edge - by @readyplayerhobi

| jungkook x reader, jimin x reader | 141.8k

mafia au, fluff, angst, smut, violence, series

>> summary: "the jeon clan is family, built on blood and loyalty. it’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the clan, jeon jungkook. you would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?"

this fic absolutely BROKE ME. i was so conflicted all throughout and deadass went through all the 50 stages of grief. the angst was unparalleled. the fluff had me giggling like a madman cuz jk is an absolute sweetheart :( jimin is too :(( y/n is dumb and so is her situation :((( i cherish this fic sm

➺ novocaine - by @kinktae

| jimin x reader |

1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "going home was hard – painful even. but falling back in love with jimin, the boy you left behind? downright gut-wrenching."

➺ ghostin him- by @adonis-koo

| namjoon x reader (taehyung x reader) | 26k

angst, angst, as well as angst. comfort too dw, one-shot

>> summary: "life is nothing more than dull colors for you, your world shattered and laying in the shards of what once was rather than focusing on what is. that is until you meet kim namjoon, who is immediately taken by you without realizing you’re a girl with a whole lot of baggage, through tears and many sleepless nights you’re faced with a choice of hanging on with bleeding hands, or accepting what is, and letting go."

ohmygod the writing hello? the amount of soul, depth, and sheer utter beauty in missy's words are beyond me. had me sobbing every other line and my heart aching all throughout and boy was it worth it.

➺ take five - by @jiminrings

| yoongi x reader | 10k

angst, fluff, unrequited love, pinning

summary: "dr. min yoongi's a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand - oh and also, he's divorced."

➺ page turner - by @gukslut

| taehyung x reader | 13.6k

teacher!tae/ librarian!reader, fluff, smut, minor angst

summary: "corny romance and a zillion cheesy Romeo and Juliet quotes and references."

my tainted hopeless romantic heart ugh. they're so cute.

➺ bloom- by @hobidreams

| namjoon x reader | 20.7k

assassin!reader x florist!namjoon, smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff

>> summary: "family is who you kill for. who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom."

➺ counterfeit culture - by @ggukcangetit

| seokjin x reader | 29k

modern day au loosely based on jane austen’s pride & prejudice, e2l, fluff, smut, comedy

>>summary: “for as long as you can remember, you’ve always known right from wrong, good from bad, and woke from entitled/ignorant. but when you continue to cross paths with Kim Seokjin - the apparent antithesis of everything you believe in - certain walls begin to crumble. and over time, you come to realise that the world isn’t black and white, first impressions can be misleading, and that you are just as guilty as each person you’ve judged so harshly. realisation brings acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, acceptance can bring something more.”

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

| jungkook x reader | 22k

friends to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, comedy, angst

>> summary: "in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him."

➺ to hold a dragon's heart - by @softlyjiminie

| taehyung x reader | 19.1k

dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader, smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au

>> summary: "two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?"

[kithtaehyung]

[ 240704 ] estimated posting lineup for 2024-2025:

minted | haegeum!yoongi, mint!yoongi (posted!)

lollipop | 3tan!yoongi (posted!)

3tan drabbles (posted!)

minted 2 | haegeum!yoongi, mint!yoongi (posted!)

street kings | street racers!taegi

7days2 | fuckboy roommate!jungkook

3tanfugue

3tan13

virtual;reality | streamer!seokjin🤭

mami2 | battle rappers!rapline

hy4 | bbf!taehyung

afyt | assassin!jimin

heaven | boyfriend!knj

seamless | roomate!myg

let’s goooooo🔥 which ones are we excited for!!

[softieyn]

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears. 

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips. 

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-" 

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt. 

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this? 

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now. 

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back. 

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning. 

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up. 

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

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Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

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Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

[ugh-yoongi]

the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin’s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. “Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. &lt;3

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (i)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (ii)~ ~Recs (iii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk! | Shoutout to @ggukkiereads who does an amazing job creating rec lists, which helped me find many of these fics

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ BTS Reactions by @dreamescapeswriting | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @btsjfans | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @bulletproofwhalien | NSFW + SFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @salvejoon | SFW + NSFW |

☆ BTS Scenarios by @sunshine-and-bangtan | SFW + NSFW |

☆ Desperado Series by @heartbeatan | Mafia AU | PJM, JJK, KTH (in progress) | 60-160k(+) each

☆ The Company series by @btsmakesmehappy | Agent AU | 25-37k(+) each (in progress)

☆ Mafia BTS Reactions by @ninetailedfoxmanchi | Mafia AU (+Yandere AU) |

☆ #CodeBTS series by @yminie | Mafia AU | 1-12k each

Kim Namjoon

☆ The Ghost in Apartment 1403 series by @notsoguiltykpop | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Roommate AU? | ?k

☆ beauty & the bookworm by @jungshookz | E2L Library AU, Uni AU | 20k

☆ la vie en bonsai by @jungshookz | S2F2L Neighbours AU, Baker AU | 38k

☆ The Seven Nights series by @theunknowncryptid | SMAU, Mafia AU | 13k

☆ real magic by @heretobbtstrash | S2F2L Single Parent AU, Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 17k

Kim Seokjin

☆ {Unavailable}

Min Yoongi

☆ Take One by @untaemedqueen | Pornstar AU | 24k

☆ The Deal series by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ suit & tie by @jungshookz | CEO AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, PA AU | 21k + drabbles

☆ hellish by @jungshookz | E2L Demon AU, Roommate AU | 22k

☆ strike a chord by @snackhobi | S2L Pianist AU, Bar AU | 16k

☆ straight shooter by @snackhobi | F2L/E2L Cyberpunk AU, Dystopian AU | 14k

☆ devil with the mint hair series by @theharrowing | E2FWB Brother's BFF AU, Stoner AU | 11k+

☆ a wager of lords and love by @hisunshiine | S2L Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 7k

☆ daechwita by @chemicalpink | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 10k

☆ stay by @luffles424 | Daechwita AU, Assassin AU | 3k

☆ daechwita by @se0kie | Daechwita AU | 4k

☆ make me proud by @moonscriptsx | Established Relationship AU, Canon Idol-verse | 6k

☆ by its cover by @kittae | S2L Cat Dad AU | 2k

☆ misfortunately, yours by @sor-vette | S2F2L Dark Fae AU, Dark Fantasy AU | 32k

☆ mixtape by @jungblue | F2L Uni AU, Radio AU | 15k

☆ cyberslut by @kimnjss | SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ alive aha fxck by @softyoongiionly | F2L Neighbours AU, Vampire AU | 43k

☆ a brew of wings by @inkedtae | S2F2L Dragon AU, Witch AU | 10k

☆ fury of their scales by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife | Dragon AU | 18k

☆ inheritance series by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 21k

☆ tuxedo series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Cat(-shifter?) AU, Roommates AU | ft JJK | 49k+

☆ Assuage series by @btsqualityy | Omegaverse AU, Werewolf AU | ?k

☆ show by @httpjeon | Pw/oP ft BTS | 2k

☆ drip by @here2bbtstrash | Pw/oP | 5k

Jung Hoseok

☆ midnight confessions by @snackhobi | BFF2L Coworkers AU, Office AU, Buzzfeed Unsolved AU | 27k

☆ the bride of ashmedai by @jeonggukingdom | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 13k

Park Jimin

☆ The Bird Cage series + The Lion's Den series by @untaemedqueen | S2L Mafia AU | ?k

☆ Set It Off series by @btsqualityy | Mafia AU | ?k

☆ the hunt by @httpjeon | Shifter AU, Fantasy AU | 8k

☆ lovebug by @httpjeon | Hybrid AU | 12k

Kim Taehyung

☆ Pied Piper by @untaemedqueen | Mafia AU, Established Relationship AU | 10k

☆ maybe i do series by @chateautae | Arranged Marriage AU, Chaebol AU, CEO AU | 410k + drabbles

☆ kinda hot by @kimnjss | BFF2L SMAU, Uni AU, Fboy AU | ?k

☆ nip it in the bud by @opaljm | Brother's BFF AU, Piercing AU | 10k

☆ heatwave series by @curly-bangtan | F2L Roommate AU | 12k

☆ under the covers by @jessikahathaway | Agent AU | 23k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ heavy lifting by @snackhobi | Coworkers AU | 13k

☆ Miss Vagabond by @bubblesuga | F2L Gamer AU | 8k

☆ blizzard by @curly-bangtan | S2L Roommates AU | 16k

☆ Sparkle by @btsmosphere | F2L Roommates AU | 3k

☆ Hands-On Learning series by @ladyartemesia | Uni AU | 5k

☆ kiss it better by @jincherie | Uni AU, Sports AU, Cheer AU | 12k

☆ ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg | Ghost AU, Supernatural AU, Uni AU | ft MYG + KTH | 20k

☆ tell me your secrets (i'm all ears) by @jinpire | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 7k

☆ under the bridge by @jincherie | Hybrid AU | 11k

☆ Swipe right by @ppersonna | BFF2L Tinder AU | 9k

☆ overtime by @cupofteaguk | CEO AU, Office AU, PA AU, Coworkers AU | 12k

☆ I won't stop you series by @imsarabum | Vampire AU, Fantasy AU, Office AU, Coworkers AU, CEO AU, PA AU | ?k

☆ life eternal by @jungkookiebus | Fae AU | 9k

☆ hotter than hell series by @chateautae | Demon AU | 136k

☆ Hellblazer series by @jungkookiebus | Demon AU, Constantine AU | ?k

☆ agent of love series by @ppersonna | SMAU, Agent AU | ?k+

☆ strawberry kisses series by @kimnjss | SMAU, Brother's BFF AU, Tinder AU | ?k

☆ drag me down (to hell) series by @kimvtae | Mafia AU, Single Parent AU | 58k (abandoned)

☆ Concealed Weapon by @gimmesumsuga | Mafia AU, Husband AU | 10k

☆ hate sex by @yeoreos | FWB Pw/oP | 4k

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @bonvoyagenoona's masterlist

☆ @chateautae's masterlist

☆ @flowerwrites06's masterlist

☆ @here2bbtstrash's masterlist

☆ @hollyhomburg's masterlist

☆ @icyhobi's masterlist

☆ @jungshookz's masterlist

☆ @justcallmenikki7's masterlist

☆ @kpopfanfictrash's masterlist

☆ @ladyartemesia's masterlist

☆ @luxekook's masterlist

☆ @magicalsalamander's masterlist

☆ @yminie's masterlist

☆ @yoonia's masterlist

[spookyserenades]

not trying to rush or anything! i was just wondering when we’ll get a taste of sanctity 👀

hehe! I'm working on the first chapter already, it's up to 4k words. I've made a banner (not a swanky one LOL my strengths are not with graphic design) but I'll copy paste my notes about the boys that I've come up with so far. And give you the banner 💕

Seokjin 

Born 1145 - Turned 1176 (Goryeo) 879 years old, physically 31

Manipulative type yandere 

Taeja (crown prince) of a monarch, third-born son; focused on studies, arts, humanities, and would assist in conversations surrounding war and foreign relations

Speaks Korean, Mandarin, Japanese, Arabic (most ancient languages as well)

Power: Compulsion, he can influence minds, wipe memories, make suggestions to control someone

Yoongi

Born 1476 - Turned 1507 (Renaissance Period) 548 years old, physically 31

Obsessive type yandere

Apprentice of Leonardo Da Vinci, created some of his art then went on to have his own famous career, patron of arts 

Speaks Latin, Greek, and all other Romance languages

Power: Paralysis, he can paralyze someone using his mind, rendering them unable to move

Hoseok

Born 1607 - Turned 1637 (Early Modern Period, Piracy’s Golden Age) 417 years old, physically 30

Possessive type yandere

Buccaneer, captain of a ship that would sail around the Caribbean. Plundered and burned cities, owns many fine things, well-traveled

Speaks all Romance languages, Dutch, Haitian Creole

Power: Tracking, he can find anyone with his senses without fail, can predict target’s moves in advance

Namjoon

Born 1630 - Turned 1659 (Joseon) 394 years old, physically 29

Sadistic type yandere

Ruthless military general that led men during the Qing invasion of Joseon. Later became an assassin (sword for hire, essentially) 

Speaks Korean, Mandarin, Japanese, and most other Asian languages

Power: Pain Illusion, when focused on target he can create the illusion that the target is being burned alive

Jimin

Born 1796 - Turned 1824 (Regency Era, 20 years post America’s Independence) 228 years old, physically 28

Clingy type yandere

Famous playwright of romantic tragedies, owner of a theater in England that was extremely popular

Speaks all Romance languages

Power: Hypnosis, he can convince targets that they’re in love with him/can’t live without him

Taehyung

Born 1841 - Turned 1869 (Victorian Era, 20ish years before Industrial revolution) 183 years old, physically 28

Stalker type yandere

Basically Vanderbilt vibes. The coven lives in the Breakers mansion, Taehyung built it. Owned railroads, reclusive business tycoon

Speaks English and French

Power: Glamoring, he can disguise his appearance and his presence itself

Jeongguk

Born 1900 - Turned 1926 (Roaring 20’s, Prohibition Act, Al Capone mafia) 124 years old, physically 26

Overprotective type yandere

Ran with Al Capone crime family, mostly as a booze smuggler and bodyguard. Was turned when the North Siders targeted Capone at the Hawthorne inn

Speaks English

Power: Telepathy, can read minds

[chimcess]

A Picture’s Worth || jjk (I)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Ex-Art Thief!Reader, Ex-Assassin!Reader, Ex-Gang member!Reader, Gang member!Jungkook, Assassin!Jungkook, Hitman!Jungkook, Thief!Jungkook Genre: Strangers to lovers, gang AU, mafia AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut     Word Count: 23.2k+ Summary: After pulling off the largest art heist of her career, Y/N has put that life behind her. However, after 4 years out of the business, she comes home to find a stranger in her house. Warnings: violence, blood, gang activity, mafia activity, mentions of death, actual death, crime, robberies, pickpocketing, graphic depictions of injuries, guns, knives, mentions of past torture, body branding (not too graphic), major character(s) injured, STRONG LANGUAGE, Gang tattoos, Abuse (not JK and Reader), JK is a bit of a himbo, but only with his friends, he’s actually quite scary, I’m not a gang member or anything so I could be wrong about that stuff, I tried my best, eventual smut, mutual pining, kissing (let me know if I missing anything) Author’s Note:Things were getting out of hand, so I made the executive decision to split this into two parts. This one is establishing plot so no smut (yet). Thanks so much for reading. She’s a big girl.

Listen to the Playlist || cross posted to ao3: here

Five years ago

There comes a point in a child’s life that they begin to ponder over what they will become. Some girls I knew dreamt of becoming lawyers, doctors, or astronauts. I remember there being a time when I had thought of more than the mountains I had lived in, possibly moving to California and starting my life over after I was finished with school. I had even played with the idea of owning a salon. I hoped that I would be pretty when I grew up with bright red hair just like Ariel. It was strange looking back on that time and how little had truly changed. 

While I had, in some ways, deviated from the life my family had wanted for me, I was still lurking in the shadows and biding my time. Instead of hiring me for hits, the players I worked for enjoyed the finer things in life. Patrons of the arts if you will. Staring up at the Rembrandt painting, it was not a wonder as to why.

Looking over my shoulder, I was relieved to see Hoseok in position. Locking eyes momentarily, I gave him a small, polite smile and returned to the painting in front of me. To the security cameras, we were simply two strangers who had a small moment in time. I knew that we were trying to use signals as much as we could without looking suspicious. A smile normally meant that I was confident I could pull this off. Hoseok’s returning nod was his way of saying he was happy with his own assessments.

The heist would take a few more weeks to plan out. Our buyer wanted 18 different art pieces from this museum, something that was doable with our team, as well as 38 pieces of jewelry. Taehyung and Jimin would be in charge of the operation. Walking away from the Rambrandt, I looked over other pieces with the same intensity to not raise suspicions. While the cameras here were not of great quality, they could still see us and that alone was enough to bother me. 

Stealing has always come naturally to me. Second nature. When I was young I pickpocketed, the artform far more refined now that I was much older, and my parents enjoyed how sneaky I could be when I wanted to be. We never stayed anywhere for too long, the last place I had seen them was Aspen six years ago, but my favorite years were London. The Underground was a perfect place to pickpocket. In a day I could swipe over 100 items and no one would be the wiser.

My tastes changed as I grew. There was a time when I hated the idea of being a criminal like my parents were. I disdain violence at the best of times, but there were very few ways of getting out unscathed. It was when I managed to steal jewels from a heavily secured store that I caught the eyes of The Saints. Hoseok was impressed by my attention to detail and offered me a way to get out of my family home. I was sixteen and impulsive. A little over ten years later I was still standing here, pickpocketing the wealthy and giving it to those just as fortunate. It had stopped bothering me years ago, the guilt, but there was always a piece of me that longed for those far away dreams of cutting hair. It almost made me laugh just thinking about it.

“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” A soft voice asked, suddenly beside me.

Turning, I was confronted with a familiar face. Yoongi hardly changed, his set lips and keen eyes unwavering. There was a long, jagged scar that ran down his forehead, over his eye, and down his cheek. He got the scar when he was still in the Irish Mob back in Boston. He was an earner with those boys and they gave him hell about leaving. Still, he had managed to walk away only to join a different side of organized crime.

“Yes, but not really to my taste,” I joked.

I had never been the biggest fan of abstract work. I liked it a great deal more than landscapes, it was at least interesting to look at, but the lack of effort had bothered me. It would never take off anyway. No one liked over priced paint splatters. Yoongi hummed.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Taking the cue, I stood as he walked off and began counting back from 500 in my head. Everyone would be heading back to the command now. Everything had been squared away for now. Taking one more passing glance at the Rembrandt, I sighed. Hopefully, when this is all done, I could walk away.

With my head held high, I slowly drifted toward the exit. Taking the time to look over art was another great way to cover my tracks. In order to stay a nobody, I had to be a nobody, and only a nobody would stop to look at a still-life of a bowl of fruit. I never did understand why these things were popular. Then, finally, after five more minutes of “ooo”ing an “ahh”ing at pieces I’ve seen every week for the last month, I was out of the door.

Three years ago

Blinking, I stood motionless as I stared at the cracks in the little apartment’s ceilings. It had been a difficult find, something so cheap in San Diego was a steal even if it was only 300 square feet. Smiling, I threw my duffel bag of belongings onto the futon I had brought earlier that day. Finally, things were going to start looking up.

I had flown in from Kansas the week prior and had made the most of cheap motel rooms until I scored this place. I had always loved California and finally I had made it home. Looking around, I found I was not as upset by the lack of space or functioning stove. In fact, it had been the lightest I had felt in a very long time. Only second to when I graduated from Aveda last fall.

Deciding to pick up what little boxes I had with me, I broke them down and tore them into strips that were easily thrown away. I was lucky the place had come with a small, countertop fridge and microwave. The only sink was in the bathroom, a room that was floor-to-ceiling covered in tile with a toilet, small sink, and a shower head. I would have to wear flip flops just in case. The landlord had recommended using a bucket since the hot water only lasted for about 10 minutes.

I did not have much. I had gotten into the habit of packing light and living even lighter, but I was determined to try this differently. I’ve gotten what I have always wanted and I was going to let anyone, or anything, take it away from me. Going to my duffel bag, I began packing out my folded clothes and organizing them into different piles before putting them away. I had bought a tall, skinny wardrobe at the same GoodWill I had gotten the futon from. 

Calling out to my phone, I asked Siri to play some music and got to work. I hated silence. Using the small drawers on the left side, I stuffed my underwear and pajamas on that side of the wardrobe. The right side was meant to hang nice things on, but I did not own nice things anymore. Instead hung were two pairs of jeans, a few dresses, and some shirts. I only owned black now. It was the dress code for every salon I had ever worked at- including the newest one. My shoes went on the shelves above the drawers and I made a mental note to buy a better pair of sneakers. I wanted to get outside more often.

Putting away the rest of my things was just as quick. My makeup was stored away on the desk that was attached to the wall beside the fridge. It was meant to be a dining area, but I doubted I would ever have company over to make use of it. My few skincare products were safely stored away in the bathroom mirror, and my kit was under my bed for safe keeping. I was suddenly acutely aware of just how sad everything truly was.

“Well,” I mumbled to myself. “Hopefully I can get enough clientele to get out of this shithole.”

At least, I thought to myself, at least I was free. 

With that in mind, I grabbed my keys and headed out into the city. It had been hours since I last stopped for anything and I would have no luck here for the night. Slipping into the hallway, I realized that I was happy. For the first time in a while I felt unadulterated. Things were going to be fine.

Two years ago

Clutching the pizza box with one hand and balancing it on my hip, I cradle my phone with my shoulder as I open the door to my building.

“The earliest I’ll be available is Thursday,” I said, my voice sickeningly sweet.

The customer, Jules, cheerfully asked if I had any availability on Sunday instead. Rolling my eyes, I reminded her that the salon was closed on both Sunday and Monday. This would be the third time I had to repeat myself.

“What about Saturday?” She asked, still as clueless as she had been since I had picked up.

“I’m free from 2pm until 3pm, but if you want a haircut and balayage I will need longer than an hour.”

“How long do you need?” Finally, I heard a hint of frustration slipping through her otherwise cheery voice.

“If you want the full layered balayage it can take up to three hours for hair as long as yours is. It can be shorter if you just want a partial- between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.”

Huffing up the stairs, I struggled to open the door to my floor and used my foot to keep it open while I awkwardly hobbled. Rolling my eyes, I wanted to pull my hair out. This would be the fourth time now.

“I can put you in Thursday morning from 8am until noon. I can also do Friday from 5pm until 8pm. I’m not available again until the following Wednesday.”

Jules hummed, unable to stay silent I found. We had been on the phone for twenty five minutes and I was beginning to get a migraine. She was sweet, and I appreciated her never ending patience, but I was not blessed with the same superpower. I had never been known for my temperament or politeness. I only had patience when money was involved. Shoving my door open with my shoulder, I willed those thoughts away. That was the last thing I needed to think about right now.

Jules was going to make me go rob a fucking bank at this rate. Banks weren’t even my thing. That brought a smile to my face and I put the pizza down on the single counter I had in the kitchen. 

“I guess Thursday will work then. I was just hoping to get it done before my birthday.”

Pausing, I sighed heavily. Wonderful. She was a guilt tripper. Little shit.

“What day is your birthday?” I asked.

“Oh! It’s Tuesday. My girls and I are going to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate.”

And despite my better judgment, I opened my calendar and began looking at my schedule on Tuesday. Knowing I had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, I just went right out with it. 

“We can try something if you’re open to it.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Jules asked, voice perking up.

“I can give you a partial balayage Tuesday and then you can come back Thursday to finish the rest if you want to after seeing the results.”

Jules squealed and began talking very quickly, her excitement palpable. I cringed away from the speaker of my phone.

“That would be Ah-mazing! What time on Tuesday could you see me?”

“I had a cancellation first thing in the morning. I’m free from 8am until 9:45. We’ll get as much as we can during that time.”

“Oh! I can definitely make that. Can we do the haircut on Tuesday instead of Thursday?”

Biting my tongue, I had to stop the smart ass comment I wanted to make from coming out. She was obviously very young or had little experience going to a salon. Still, it’s common sense that we would cut first. I’m not wasting products like that.

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I settled on.

“Thanks so much, Y/N! See you Tuesday!”

“See you then, Jules. Before you go, can I get some information from you so I can put you down properly?”

After getting her full name, phone number, and email address, I let her go and logged into the salon’s appointment system to add her in. Our receptionist had quit two months ago and we were having a hard time finding a replacement. I tried to tell Tony he needed to raise the pay but he was not budging. Right now we were all stuck keeping track of everything ourselves. 

The pizza was not very hot anymore but was warm enough to not be too bothersome. Happy to have some extra money coming in, I went to the fridge and grabbed a soda from it. I bought a small cart to put my microwave on. The mini fridge just happened to fit perfectly below it. The small Keurig I bought myself for Black Friday was right beside the microwave. A snug fit but it worked. Taking a bite of the pizza, I leaned against the counter and groaned.

I was so happy to be home.

Home. It was a word I was still hesitant to say. It was hard to believe things were permanent even after all this time. Some nights I stared up at the ceiling and waited for a knock on my door. Even if Hoseok promised emergencies only it was difficult to know what the guys would consider an emergency. That world was so far removed from this new reality of mine that I feared I was losing my edge. Would I even be able to help them anymore? 

With doubt and a recurring nightmare, I fell asleep and dreamt of casinos and Rembrandt.

One year later

Sweeping up the floor, I glanced around the room to find myself alone. 

“Great,” I huffed. “I’m going to have to talk to Tony about this bullshit.”

It had been the third time the new hire, Sasha, had left without helping with cleanup. First he snuck out of the back when he was helping Tiesha, and the last two times had been with me. While we tried to keep the boss out of the personal issues we had at the shop, I was not about to let some 19-year-old walk around like he’s above it all. Angrily, I kept sweeping and hoped that the bastard got stuck in the worst traffic getting back on the I-5. 

Walking over to Andrea’s station, I rolled my eyes. She always forgot to put her combs in the sterilizing solution. Making quick work of that, I went around checking everyone’s stations to be sure it was all in order. Even Sasha’s. His desk was immaculately cleaned and I gritted my teeth harder. Seems like he’s one of those people. Feeling petty, I skipped sweeping under his vanity and kept going. Not like it made much of a difference anyway. Maybe I should steal his wallet tomorrow and help him look for it.

Fucking idiot.

No, I scolded myself. I am not that person anymore. I would definitely not go back to that lifestyle for Alexander Ivanov. Reminding myself that he was just a spoiled little brat, I continued sweeping hoping it would calm me down long enough to clear my head. If I let any of those ideas foster that would be bad. I’d have every valuable item that boy owned by lunch.

Suddenly the front desk phone began to ring and I chose to ignore it. It was five minutes after closing time and I did not feel like dealing with anyone else today. Sasha had pissed me off enough. I did not want some snotty customer adding to it. The ringing stopped and I was satisfied that they simply left a voicemail. 

Turning to go back to the staff room to gather the Swiffer, I was stopped in my tracks by the phone. A part of me wanted to answer it now. It had to be the same person. Still, I was off the clock and that was not a part of my job description. Destiny would handle it in the morning. The ringing stopped. I started walking. It started up again.

Peeved but resigned, I walked to the front desk and checked the number flashing on the screen. It was from out of state. Figures. Usually clients who wanted to come in on vacation called without realizing the time zone difference. Forcing a smile to my face, I picked up.

“Mane Street, this is Y/N speaking. How can I help you?”

“Ten minutes.” The line died.

I knew that voice from anywhere. Shaking, I placed the phone back on its modem and took a second to gather myself. Whatever the emergency was, I only had ten minutes to finish cleaning and get outside. Knowing Hoseok, he would be waiting for me near my car. Better yet, he’d already be in the passenger seat.

Scrambling, I began to mop the floors and Windex the mirrors. I refused to let this unexpected visit stop me from performing my job. I was happy Sasha had left. I probably looked like I’d seen a ghost. You have definitely heard one, my subconscious screamed.

I was locked up eight minutes later. I had been keeping count in my head just as I always had before. It was unsettling just how quickly I had transformed back into the person I had once been. Who was I fooling? I’ve been covering her up with scissors, a shitty studio apartment, and take out. That did not change the overseas accounts, fake names, and stolen jewelry I’ve kept. That doesn’t change the stolen art hanging on my walls.

Rounding the back of the store, I was not surprised to see my vehicle was the only one still there. Squinting, I could see the silhouette of a person’s head in the passenger side. The street light just in front of the pickup was facing the front, their side profile obscured by the light, but I would recognize Hoseok anywhere. He was hard but soft, jagged but gentle, and most importantly, his face was oval with a pointed chin. Anxiety bubbling in my stomach, I put on a brave face and marched forward. I would be right on time.

Hoseok did not say a word as I slid into the driver’s seat or when I closed the door. Not waiting for him to make a demand, I started the engine and turned on the AC. It was stuffy. Hoseok continued to look straight while I buckled my seatbelt and put the truck in reverse.

“Don’t go home,” He finally said.

Dread filled my stomach but I did as he said. Instead of turning left, I went right and headed for the little diner I enjoyed getting a late dinner at. It was the best place for steak and eggs. I was not sure if Hoseok would be hungry but I did not care. We never really thought about those things before.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing what you like,” He spoke again, his voice still gentle. “You look very nice, too. Like the new hair.”

I was always unnerved by this side of Hoseok. He was typically a very loud, energetic, and passionate man. Soft spoken and Hoseok had never gone together. Then again, it had been almost five years since I had seen him. A lot could change within that time. That, or whatever he was going to tell me would require softness. I hoped it was just a personality change from getting older. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad to see you’re healthy.”

Finally, he cracked a smile. “Hadn’t realized you thought about me at all.”

I scoffed, “Of course I think about you. I think about all of you very often.”

This seemed to throw him for a loop. It was weird to speak so openly about my feelings. We had always gone about life with coldness. Being sharp and intense was the only way to survive out there. If anyone saw you as weak or vulnerable then you were finished. That was why Yoongi usually acted as a middle man. He was the hardest, coldest, most impenetrable wall there ever was. Just looking into his eyes you could see that. Shivering, I recalled the time he killed a man with a set of chopsticks while we were in Korea. 

“We think about you, too,” Hoseok said, sounding far away.

Turning into the diner’s parking lot, I turned off the engine and got out. Hoseok followed closely behind me and I asked him if he wanted anything.

“I hear the steak and eggs are nice,” He commented, eyes downcasted.

“Is Taehyung keeping tabs on me?” I sneered, anxiety turning into anger.

Taehyung was the tech guy when he wasn’t stealing jewels. He was also a royal pain in the ass who never knew when to cool it. He had been the most upset when he heard that I was leaving the crew and I would not put it past him. Taehyung was just that kind of guy. The gesture was kind, I was certain of that, and came from a place of love. Still, I had asked to be left alone. It seemed like no one really accepted that.

“I tried to stop it but it’s impossible to keep track of everything he does,” Hoseok admitted. “After a while we just accepted the fact that he wouldn’t give it up. He is trying to check in less and less, though. He’s just worried someone will come around and we won’t know about it.”

“And that’s how you knew where I worked?”

Holding the door open, Hoseok thanked me before going inside. Doris smiled at me when I walked inside. She was an elderly woman who liked to help me with my Sudoku puzzles on Sunday mornings. Eyeing Hoseok curiously, I waved at her before finding an open booth. I normally sat at the bar but I did not want prying eyes. Doris would not go away if we sat there and Hoseok was obviously wanting privacy.

“Hey sugar,” Dixie, a waitress from Alabama, greeted us.

She put down two menus and asked us what we wanted to drink. Hoseok ordered a coffee while I got a glass of chocolate milk. The man looked me up and down, amusement coloring every one of his features. I waved him off and looked at the menu. If he ordered steak and eggs I would order something else. Hoseok was a big fan of sharing food even if we both had our own portions.

Hoseok, like many of the guys from the crew, was South Korean. He was born in Gwangju, a city in the southern part of the country, and moved to the US with his friend Namjoon during university. Namjoon went on to become a campaign manager in New York City while Hoseok became an associate of the Gambino family after killing a few guys. Over time the two went their separate ways, but Hoseok always spoke fondly of him. Last he heard, Namjoon had moved to Seoul and was working at the Blue House.

“You all figured out what you want?” Dixie asked, reappearing with our drinks.

Hoseok ordered the steak and eggs while I got their “Rising Roadhouse'' meal. It came with waffles and I knew that would make Hoseok happy. When we were alone again, Hoseok sighed.

“It’s Jimin,” He said.

Bracing myself, I leaned in closer so we could speak quietly. The diner was almost empty at this time of night and I was nervous. This was shit no one needed to hear about. Hoseok got closer to me.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, whispering harshly.

“He’s gotten into some shit with Winter Hill again. Yoongi bailed him out but things are going to shit. They want us to get some things for them to make up for it. We weren’t sure where to go, and Georgie was very specific.”

I breathed through my nose. Jimin was my closest friend during my time with the crew. We thought the most alike, worked the best, and trusted one another. However, we were also hot heads. I had worked on myself tremendously over the years, but Jimin had the worst kind of anger. Talking out the mouth. And to talk to somebody in Winter Hill the way I assumed he had? Jimin was asking to lose a finger. That’s if he hadn’t already. Looking at Hoseok, he seemed to know what question I had on my mind.

“Yoongi made him cut the first joint off. I told him to write an apology letter in blood. I also sent the boss the piece in a medicine jar. Just to be sure.”

Grimacing, I rubbed my forehead. I had almost forgotten the way they do things in the mafia. The letter in blood, however, seemed more of a New York thing. I’d have to get clarification on that later. Leaning back in my chair, I shook my head.

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled absentmindedly.

On one hand, I was very angry that either of them would humiliate Jimin like that. On the other hand, I knew that the boy had put them in a very, very fucked up spot. Either they make amends and punish him or they lose the entire East Coast. If Boston doesn’t want anything to do with them, New York will become weary as well. Even if Hoseok was a Red Pull at one time, he is still an outsider. He was still just an associate. 

“What is he looking for?” I finally asked, leaning back in.

“Jewelry. Said they wanted something ‘your old girl’ would like. Said you’d know what to do.”

I smirked. Georgie Boy had always been impressed with my taste. Still, I was not sure about getting involved with all of this. In order to do so would mean helping them stake out a place and I was not going there. I had made my peace. Still, I could not help the part of me that felt excited. I squashed it like a bug.

“I’m not helping you with anything,” I said.

“I’m not asking you to,” He replied. “Just tell us if you’ve seen anything noteworthy lately.”

Dixie came back with our food and I used it as a distraction. I needed time to think. Hoseok and I ate off of one another and I continued to sit and ponder over the new things I had seen at the museum in town. I had gone many times, I had always tried to desensitize myself to the feeling I got when I walked in, but each time I looked around. I knew where every single camera was, I knew how to get into the back, and I was familiar enough with the security system to work around it. Every detail of a heist had already formed in my head that I refused to act on. Just as I knew every museum all the way up to Orange County. There were quite a few jewelers that had caught my eye as well. Still, I knew my answer after a few minutes of silence.

“His daughter’s birthday is soon, isn’t it?” I clarified, making sure my memory serves me well.

“In a few weeks,” Hoseok nodded.

“There’s a pair of earrings at Beverly Hills Jewelers,” I started. “They’re 2 carat, T.W, diamonds. They’re heart shaped. Halo. They’re beautiful.”

“Price?”

“I believe $15,000. They have some nice tennis chains as well that could match.”

He hummed, “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”

I nodded, “I’ll include a personalized letter as well as a ring from my own collection if that helps.”

Hoseok smiled brightly at me. I knew that had pleased him. Georgie Boy would also be happy. His little girl gets some nice gifts and he gets to wave his dick around like the narcissist is is. In my head, I was already trying to remember the layout of the store. I had only gone inside twice when I took a trip to Beverly Hills. I was having a rough day and I wanted to get back in my element for a while. Scoping out places was always a relaxing thing for me to do. I ended up buying a necklace while I was there so they wouldn’t become suspicious of me. Still, I would have to see it again and show the guys what I was talking about so they could do the hit. That place was heavily secured.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok said, pushing the last piece of steak closer to me.

Grinning at him I replied, “It was an emergency.”

And then I popped the steak in my mouth and savored the taste. Just for now I would have a little bit of chaos. It would just be Hoseok and I, so that made the guilt lessen. At least this wasn’t something I would have to actually perform. Still, I thought to myself, I was incredibly bored without the little bit of chaos I had before.

Present

Laughing, I cut another piece of brown hair off. Jules stared at me, her hands covering her mouth, while she shook. She was a regular now, always got the same treatment, but when she called about her appointment last week she asked for a bob. Well, giving it to her, it was difficult to imagine just how upset she would become.

Her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and she wanted to show her that she was standing with her. The chemo had made chunks fall out and her mother decided to buzz her head. I had been the person to do that and give her a pamphlet of local stores she could go to and buy nice wigs. Jules, however, had called me late and said she wanted to donate her own hair for her mom. Tony had recently registered the salon with Locks of Love and trained us all in it. Sasha had been the most excited about the prospect. His mother had died from cancer when he was in highschool. 

Jules’s hair was thick, dark brown, and wavy. Everything about it was perfect and she was a dream to work with. She always took things in stride and tipped well. Today, I was worried if she would ever come back. 

Her hair was long enough that we could keep it at her shoulders. She had always kept it past her butt, just barely grazing her upper thighs, and took pride in it. I was still planning to give her plenty of highlights and a blowout- on the house. I had nothing but love for the girl and I knew how difficult this would be for her. Glancing at Tiesha, she smiled.

“Girl, what are you crying for?” She joked, parting another section of her client’s hair.

I recognized her but was not sure of her name. She always came in for installations or silk presses. Tiesha was always happy to see her, at the very least, so I knew she was a nice enough person. 

“I don’t know,” Jules whined back, sniffling and rubbing her reddening eyes.

“Now, you are too damn pretty to be looking like that,” She replied, braiding back another section. “Make an appointment with momma and I’ll hook you up.”

I scoffed, “I can do extensions, too.”

“Oh, I know. But you’re most definitely a colorist. Julie, baby, Ty will take good care of you, okay?”

“Your mom will be very happy,” Sasha chimed in, his Russian accent thick. 

Jules nodded, “Yeah, she will.”

I smiled to myself. That was the best motivator to get through this. I kept as much length as I could and I was still going to try to make her feel pretty with the new style. She had said her friends were excited but her boyfriend was conflicted. He loved her hair. That made me frown. Who the fuck says that to their girlfriend? Especially one who’s doing it for their sick mother.

“I’ve never gone this short before,” Jules said, her composure coming back. “It’s scary.”

“Don’t worry,” Sasha soothed, cleaning up from his last client. “You’ve got the best in the house. Y/N’ll take care of you.”

I winked at the boy. Sasha had grown on me considerably since he was first hired. I had not gone to Tony about his skipping after all, instead I cornered him at work and told him if he ever ditched me again I would get him fired. We were rocky after that but I knew his respect for me had gone up. A friendship blossomed when he confessed he was clueless about doing color. Sasha was an amazing stylist and his precion was otherworldly, but Destiny was right to never give him color clients. I spent a few nights helping him practice on some mannequin heads and he followed me around like a puppy. He had even agreed to clean up alone for two nights while I was in Beverly Hills helping Hoseok scope out the place. We were thick as thieves after that.

“I know that,” Jules cracked a smile. “She always takes care of me.”

“I’m flattered,” I finally said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for you.”

Her smile grew. Jules had been very excited about free coloring. I had told her I was giving myself free reign, and I wondered if she thought I was going to go manic pixie on her. Hopefully some lowlights and babylights would suffice. We had never gone darker before and I thought it would suit the new cut well. 

Cutting in her layers, I was happy with how it looked. Her hair framed her face nicely and she would still have enough length to play around with it if she wanted. Jules was a fan of those half-up, half-down looks. Using my comb, I ran through her hair and cut. So far, she had not looked back at the mirror. She seemed nervous too. 

“Do you want me to cut your bangs blunt or keep them split?” I asked.

Jules perked up, “Oh! I was actually thinking about trying a new bang style.”

I nodded, “Do you have a picture?”

She opened her gallery and pulled it up. I smiled to myself. Jameela Jamil really did pull off the schoolgirl bangs. 

“So in between?” I walked around so she was facing me. 

“Do you think it’ll look nice?” She asked, chewing her bottom lip.

I studied her face for a moment. 

“You’ll look great, but it might take some time to get used to. They’re a bit more maintenance than blunt or curtain.”

She smiled, “I figured that.”

Working quietly, I began to trim her bangs into the correct shape. They will look their best after I finish styling the rest of her hair. Jules loved it when I straightened her hair after our visits. She never had the patience for it at home and it made her feel special when she got it done here. I would have to let her know that her bangs will look pretty if she curled the longer side pieces to blend them in with her natural waves. With the cutting done, it was time to start the lowlights.

“When is your next appointment?” I asked Sasha.

He was sitting in his chair and texting someone on his phone. He glanced at me before getting back to his screen.

“About twenty minutes. He’s new.”

“Oh, a man?” Tiesha dramatically emphasized the man part. It was not often that men booked with us. Sasha had gone to barber school and did amazing work, but for some reason the idea of going to a salon bothered most men. “He from out of town?”

“I think so,” The Russian nodded. “He definitely sounded foreign. I couldn’t tell where from. Maybe Asia?”

I froze for a moment. I took a breath. There was absolutely no way that any of them would do that. Then I thought of Taehyung. Absolutely not, I scolded myself. That boy feared me more than anybody else. I would ring him by his neck and then let Yoongi know about it. Besides, I said emergencies only. They would have scheduled with me if they were trying to talk. Walking back to my chair, I placed the dye and bleach down on the metal tray next to me. Opening one of the drawers at my desk, I grabbed some latex gloves and foil.

Getting started was simple. Getting the brown, I began painting sections of her hair and foiling them. The foil was not really necessary, but I always got nervous that the parts I did not want colored would get touched. Lowlights were more sparsely added, and unlike highlights, never layers. Making my way around her head, I was excited to see if she would like it. I only went a shade darker than her natural color, so the color contrast was not extremely stark. The highlights were the most important part of the look.

Foiling the last piece of hair, I took the bowl to the sink near the back as well as the brush I was using. Tossing them in and removing my gloves, I heard the bell chime and Sasha’s customer service voice begin. No one could beat Tiesha’s, that woman had client relationships like no one I had ever met. They adored her.

“Come sit and we can get started,” Sasha seemed more excited than usual.

I guessed the guy wanted something a bit different from his normal caseload.

“Alright,” I sighed, clapping my hands. “Let's get this bleach started.”

Walking back into the main room, I paid no mind to the customer sitting in Sasha’s chair. Jules was FaceTiming with someone and I grinned when I recognized her mom’s voice. She seemed very cheery today.

“Oh, I love that length on you,” Martha gushed, her accent only picking up on certain words.

“Gracias, mami,” Jules beamed. “Do you think Carlos will like it?”

Martha waved her hands around animatedly when she talked. I had learned that from the many times she came to the salon with Jules. Now, she was shaking them violently.

“Who cares?”

I laughed and got to work on her highlights. 

“I said the same thing,” I chimed.

The three of us talked as I worked. Martha always enjoyed asking me about the craziest customer of the week, and I usually indulge her. This week it had been a very convoluted, pastel rainbow color job. She wanted the top half white and the bottom portion colored. She booked out my entire day, gave me hell about every insignificant detail, and then left a $2 tip. Sasha got to hear me rant and rave about it when we were cleaning that night.

“She’s never allowed in my chair again,” I finished, setting a timer for everything. 

The lowlights had been sitting for twenty minutes while the babylights would need about 15 in order to develop the way I want them to. Thinking, I was certain the lowlights would be fine going two minutes over the usual time. They would be hardly noticeable regardless. 

“You’ve had worse,” Sasha pointed out.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But those women tip well. I don’t care how rude you are- money is money. That chick is a pain in the ass without the benefits.”

“She has nothing on Kimberly,” Tiesha joked. 

I groaned, “God, don’t even put that name into the universe. She’s due back soon.”

Sasha laughed. “She does pay very well. Don’t blame you.”

“Who’s Kimberly?” Jules asked.

I gave Tiesha a look before answering her.

“She’s a regular. Tony was her go-to guy, but he’s only in twice a week and it doesn’t line up with her schedule. He sent her over to me. Let’s just say she takes picky to a new level.”

Jules snickered, “What does she like to get?”

“Usually a platinum blonde, layered cut. On paper it’s not the most difficult thing in the world, but she makes it much more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Complicated?” Tiesha exclaimed. “That woman is super rude, always late, and acts like she knows everything. I’d tell that bitch to kick rocks.”

Her client laughed out loud.

“That might be true,” I reasoned, checking the foils. “But, she always tips well and shouts me out on her socials. So, can I really complain? Besides, I’m used to her.”

Checking the foils again, I was happy with the color they were and decided to take the foils off early. Stopping my timer, I asked Jules to walk over to the rinsing station. I was happy this was my last client. Sweeping up the hair, I left it in the dustpan until I was ready to begin the tedious task of preparing it for donation. Putting on a new pair of gloves, I willed this day to be over already.

I knew something was off when a new motorcycle was parked out front. Briefly checking the plates, I was even more weary when they were from Jersey. I knew far too many people in that corner of the US. Still, I told myself that it could be anybody. Perhaps one of my new neighbors was from Hobokan. That was highly unlikely, though. Eyeing the red leather jacket hanging from one of the handles, I only knew one person who owned something like that. I guess I will be seeing Jimin tonight. The thought bothered me far more than I thought it would.

Taking my time going up the stairs, I considered calling Hoseok and demanding to know why Park was sniffing around my apartment. I knew I should have moved out, should have tried something new, but the thought of leaving the only home I ever knew bothered me. Using the time climbing to my advantage, I slowly steeled myself. Jimin could smell weakness from a mile away. He was also one person who could convince me to do bad things.

The excitement that ran through me at the idea sickened me.

Starting at the 4 on the door, I braced myself. When I walked into that hallway all traces of the new me had to disappear. There can be no laughter, no crying, and no open hostility. I would have to be a blank slate. With one small breath, I pulled the door and went into the hall.

There wasn’t a body in sight, but I knew better than to go off of that. Jimin could get into my apartment with relative ease. No one would notice either. Everyone else that lived was too busy making ends meet to pay attention to the stranger sneaking into my house.

Taking my keys out of my purse, I unlocked the door and walked inside. I could smell him. It was, however, not Jimin. Jimin only wore Orange Blossom by Jo Malone. Whoever this was smelled like baby powder and flowers. My guard completely up now, I continued further into the studio and kicked the door closed behind me. Whoever it was, I knew had been standing behind the door. The smell was not as potent as it had been before. 

Going into the kitchen, I shrugged my coat off before throwing it behind me. I heard it hit something and it was a blur after that. I quickly snatched a kitchen knife from the drying rack and threw myself to the ground. The man grabbed my hands. Kicking his inner thigh, I rolled from underneath him and shot up. He threw his arms up.

“Stop!”

Ignoring him, I threw the knife. The man reacted quickly, catching the blade in between his hands before throwing it down on the floor. While he was distracted, I slid on the floor and grabbed the pistol from under my bed. Pointing it at the man, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

Without saying anything, I aimed for his left shoulder and fired. The silencer muzzled the shot, though the pop was still nasty. It worked better with a pillow added to the equation. I doubted any of my neighbors would notice the sound, however. The man shouted, stumbled back, and leaned against the fridge.

“You shot me,” He exclaimed, shocked.

“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, aimed for his other shoulder.

“You wait to ask me after you-”

I shot again. He gritted his teeth and sank to the floor. The wounds were leaking blood but I tried to not let it bother me. This guy broke into my house. This time, I aimed for his right knee.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

“Jungkook,” The man, Jungkook, answered. “I’m with The Saints.”

Lowering the barrel of the gun, I stared at him for a second. He was with my crew? Since when? 

“Who sent you?” I asked, aiming at his chest now.

If he was going to get found out, he might be more inclined to lunge before I could call anyone.

“Yoongi.”

Slowly, I reached into my back pocket and got my phone. I was relieved the screen hadn’t cracked during the outfall. Slowly, keeping my eyes on Jungkook, I started typing in the number I knew by heart. If he was lucky, Yoongi would pick up. If not, then we weren’t moving until someone did. After the second ring, a rough voice greeted me.

“August.”

Training my gun on his head, I spoke.

“There’s someone claiming they know you in my apartment.”

After a few seconds, Yoongi’s voice was hard when he replied.

“Who is it?”

“Says his name is Jungkook,” I replied evenly.

I was fully prepared to pull the trigger. Jungkook stared the barrel down without fear. I only hoped he would go down quickly and quietly. 

Yoongi sighed harshly, “Fucking Jimin.”

Gripping the handle tightly, I placed my finger on the trigger. I only needed the okay now.

“He’s fine,” Yoongi was annoyed. “I sent Jimin but I guess he got the kid to go instead.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I put the gun down. Jungkook visibly relaxed then and moaned in pain. Raising a hand, he cradled his left shoulder and hissed in pain. 

“Fucked him up,” I admitted. “He was in my apartment when I got home.”

Yoongi hummed, “Take care of him. He’ll let you know what’s going on. We have a problem.”

He hung up before I could respond.

I hated when he did that. I had no idea who Jungkook was, or what he was here to tell me, but we were on the same team. And I just shot him. Twice. Putting the gun back in its original spot, I reached a little further behind it and retrieved my first aid kit. Jungkook sagged in relief. 

“Sorry,” I apologized, helping him take his shirt off. “Didn’t realize you were with us.”

Jungkook hissed when I applied alcohol to the wounds. It would take me a while to get his patched up, but I was capable of doing it. Years of friendship with The Saints would do that to you. Looking at Jungkook, I was taken aback by how attractive he was.

All of the Saints were good looking, but this guy had an aura about him. His hair was wild, pitch black, and down to his shoulders. His skin was gently tanned with small moles dotted sporadically across his body. What caught my attention the most was the shiny, silver lip ring he donned. That was an oddity in our world.

“My fault, shouldn’t have broken in without a warning,” He replied.

“I saw the bike outside and thought you were Jimin.”

He hummed then winced. I knew those bullets did not feel nice. Taking my time and trying to be gentle, I used a pair of tweezers to get them out. Jungkook bit his lip so hard he drew blood. 

“Yeah,” He breathed out. “Let me borrow it for the ride.”

“Park,” We both knew what I meant by that.

For the next hour we sat in silence. He let me work and I listened to every sharp intake of breath, groan, and moan. I felt guilty about everything, but I also had a certain level of apathy. The guy was nobody to me. Not really. Same crew doesn’t mean we’re friends. Still, if they sent him here then that meant they trusted him enough to come. That told me a lot about him.

After I placed gauze over the stitches, Jungkook finally spoke again.

“Jin hyung said you were harmless,” He chuckled. “I’ll let him know he’s wrong.”

Ignoring his comment, I went to find him something to wear. I doubted he would be able to fit any of my things. He was huge, a tall man with big arms, but I could make something work. Grabbing a loose fitting dress, I threw it to him.

“I don’t have anything for a man, so that will have to do.”

He nodded and put the dress on without complaint.

“I’ll pick up something for you later,” I continued. “Did you come alone?”

Jungkook shook his head, “Hyung’s around. He was going to come but an old friend called so he sent me.”

“Kai?” I wondered, already knowing the answer. 

Jimin and Kai were good friends. They had known one another since they were kids and got involved in crime together. I’d only met the guy in passing the few times he had visited Boston, but I was not very familiar with him. I knew he was a drug runner on the west coast but that was where my knowledge stopped.

“Yeah, said they had business or something.”

I hummed, “Would you like to lay down for a moment?”

Jungkook was very obviously in pain. He tried to deny it for a minute but ultimately took my offer. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a can of Ginger Ale and gave it to him. He accepted it readily.

“Sorry about the gun,” I offered, sitting on the floor. “Jin’s right. I’m usually pretty harmless. I didn’t even own a gun until I left The Saints.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t expecting company.”

Opening my own drink, I eyed him. He was far too calm. My guess was this was not his first time being shot. Trying to find other wounds was pointless, however, he was too clothed. I hadn’t even thought to check when I was helping him earlier.

“Why’d you come inside anyway?” I asked.

Jungkook grinned ruefully.

“Hyung said he’d call you.”

That pulled a laugh out of me. Park probably forgot about it. For someone as dangerous as he was, he could be irresponsible. I remember when we were scoping a jewelry store together a few years back, Jimin had completely forgotten where the cameras were by the time we left. I had to go back myself a few days later to make sure his guesses were right. We had never let him live it down. Yoongi did not think it was very funny.

“Typical,” I said.

“Yeah.”

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed. He was so completely at ease in my presence it was unnerving. Taking a sip of my drink, I looked at him in bewilderment. He was so much like Taehyung, trusting and easy going. It was difficult to imagine what role he played in the crew. He could have taken my place but I doubted he was as good. He had come here, hid behind my door, and then ambushed me. Then he was surprised when I acted like he was an enemy. Chuckling, I put my drink down. Yeah, just like Taehyung.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes still closed.

Wiping the smile off my face, I replied. “Just thinking.”

We did not talk again. I was sure Jungkook had dozed off, but he kept waking back up again. Getting up, I began looking for some pain medicine to no avail. I had not needed to put myself to sleep in a long time. Grabbing my keys from the floor, I told Jungkook I was heading out for a bit. I got no response. Patting myself down, I knew I did not have my phone and picked it up from beside the bed. Jungkook was lightly snoring.

Slipping from the room, I locked up and went downstairs. Typing in the last number I had for Jimin, I was not surprised that it was no longer in service. He changed phones like you change clothes. Deciding to call Taehyung, I went to my contacts to find him. He was the only person I saved.

“Hello?” His voice was deep and hoarse. 

Glancing at the time, I realized it was much later than I thought. 

“Sorry about the time,” I replied. “It’s Mouse.”

I heard shuffling on the other side. Taehyung had gotten himself a girlfriend, Jennie, and I was almost positive she was relatively clueless about his life. The last time I talked to Hoseok, he had said she thought he was a tech guy who was helping a start up. He must have been with her now if his silence was anything to go by.

“Sorry,” He said, voice low. “I’m not alone.”

“I just need Park’s number and you can get back to bed.”

Saying the numbers slowly, I typed them into my keypad as I made my way through the dark streets. 

“Thanks,” I stopped walking once I got to the gas station around the corner. “Get some sleep.”

“It was good to hear your voice,” He replied, more awake than he had been. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Night, V.”

“Night, Mouse.”

Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and walked into the store. It was deserted except for the cashier. Giving me a stiff nod, I ignored the man before going to the back of the store and getting some bottled water. I never trusted the tap in the building. Afterwards, I got a bottle of Nyquil and Advil before going to the register.

“Let me get a pack of Marlboro Black Menthols,” I told the cashier.

Taking out my phone, I took my ID from the attached wallet as well as my debit card. The man held the pack of cigarettes and took my ID. Briefly looking it over, he scanned the barcode before scanning the cigarettes. Handing the ID back to me, he began scanning my other items before bagging them.

“Your total is $26.87.”

Nodding, I inserted my card and typed my pin. Putting my card back into the small wallet, I put my phone into my pocket and took the bag.

“Have a good night,” I said.

“You too,” He replied.

Leaving the store, I opened up my keypad and pressed the call button. Jimin picked up after four rings.

“Hello?” He answered, voice brightly and bubbly.

He always answered unknown numbers like that just in case. Jimin always prioritized having the upper hand over anything else. Anyone looking for Park would never connect him to the voice on the other side. I, however, was familiar enough with him to see through the facade.

“You got your boy hit,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “I had to give him a dress and Nyquil after popping two in him.”

Jimin laughed loudly, his fake voice gone. This was why we were friends. Our senses of humor were far too warped due to our upbringings. In another world we would have been enemies belonging to different clans, but I liked this timeline far more. Park was a great guy when you looked past the insecurities, anger issues, and tendency to seek violence.

“Jungkook’s wearing a dress?” He exclaimed, still laughing. “God, you have to take a picture for me.”

I rolled my eyes, “Explain why he’s here. I would ask him but I stepped out to get some medicine for him.”

Jimin’s laughter abruptly cut off. That feeling of dread returned. If Park was getting serious then that meant whatever the situation was must be more than I thought it would be. I was expecting them to need me to help them with a heist, but I was getting the feeling it might be more than that. Jimin sighed.

“I can’t get into specifics right now, but you need to get the fuck out of California.”

Going up the stairs of my complex, I paused. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not safe here anymore.”

Growing angry, I shouted. “Enough with the cryptic messages, Park!”

Continuing to go up, I kept looking around every corner I went to. This was the worst fucking timing I could have had. Things were finally going well for me, I had friends and a job that I actually liked, and I had to give it all up again. Tears filling my eyes, I shoved open my door and slammed it behind me.

“I told you I can’t get into specifics, but there’s a reason I’m with Kai right now. You and Jungkook need to get out of that apartment as soon as possible. I don’t care where you go but you need to leave.”

Jungkook sprung up when I kicked the edge of my bed. Pointing to my phone, I mouth ‘Jimin.’ Getting on my knees, I pulled out my duffle bag from underneath the bed and threw it at the other man. He looked at me when he stood up. I noticed the way he winced and held up the bag in my hand.

“Copy,” Was all I replied.

“Get to Boston. Don’t take the truck.”

“Give me something to work with,” I demanded, taking the Advil out of the bag and tossing it to Jungkook. “I can’t be blind.”

“Cмерть не за горами.”

My entire world stopped spinning. I could hear my heart beating, feel my lungs pushing the air out of my body, while my eyes were frozen. Every single inch of my skin shivered, goosebumps springing up, and I broke out into a cold sweat. This was no heist. 

Hanging up on Jimin, I went to the window above my bed and opened it. Throwing the phone as far as I could, I turned to find Jungkook waiting for instructions. Staring at him, I decided to take a leap of faith.

“Ты один из нас?” I asked.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

Gritting my teeth, I snatched the duffle from him. Jungkook continued waiting for me to tell him what to do. I pointed to my bathroom.

“Take everything from the mirror cabinet and put it in the bag. After that, grab what you can from the wardrobe and stuff it. Only take one pair of shoes and a pair of heels. That’s all I’ll need.”

He got to work quickly. Going back to the bed, I took out my gun and the spare ammo I kept locked up at the very back corner. Placing the ammo in the duffle, I took my first aid kit from the kitchen floor and tossed it in as well. 

“Do you have a gun?” I asked Jungkook.

“Yeah,” He replied. “It’s in the jacket downstairs. I thought you would feel more comfortable if I wasn’t armed.”

Packing my small makeup collection, I felt myself shutting down. Bad girls don’t have feelings, and I was fucking heartless. Yes, I told myself, heartless. It was harder to pretend now than it had been, I was rusty and in desperate need of a distraction. The thought of finding my old family in the shadows was always frightening, but the thought of them looking for me was far more unsettling.

“Done,” Jungkook announced.

Realizing I had zoned out, I quickly put my makeup in the duffle bag and closed it. I had no time to dwell or be afraid. Heartless, Mouse, Heartless. I hated that name. Shaking my head, I pulled myself together enough to sling the duffle over my shoulder. Jungkook went to take it but I held my hand up.

“You’re not carrying this with your injuries. Just take that bag and this-” I handed him my gun. “I don’t know how quick you are but it’s probably better than me. I’m rusty.”

He nodded and we made our way down the stairs. Thinking, I began to categorize the cars that were in the parking lot and on the street. My truck was near the front but the streets were shrouded in light at this time. Jungkook’s bike was also out front. The back had security cameras but was pitch black at this time. I decided the front was the risk I was more willing to take and went through the hallway door on the first floor. Passing the doors, I paid no mind to Jungkook. He was capable and stayed in step with me effortlessly. 

We would drive for a few hours, probably stopping at a diner so I could get another car, and keep going until we hit Arizona or New Mexico. I had not decided yet. Going out the front doors, I waved Jungkook away while I walked down the street. He went to get his jacket but left the bike behind. He was back beside me in a few seconds. 

Crossing the street, I had my eyes on a Honda Accord parked on the curb. It was definitely a ‘97 model. I could start her up in a heartbeat. Unzipping one of the side pockets of my bag, I pulled out a switchblade and zipped it back up. Going to the driver’s side, Jungkook stayed at my back while I tried the handle. To my surprise, it opened. Stepping to the side, I gently tapped Jungkook’s back. Turning, he quickly shoved the gun into the backseat as I opened the door. After seeing that the coast was clear, I motioned for him to go around the car while I popped the truck. He said it was fine.

Nodding at him, I got into the car. Kicking the steering wheel, I heard the column lock break before swapping the ECUs. Taking my knife, I ripped off the lower center cover. Getting back out of the car, I opened the backseat and threw my duffle inside. Putting my knife back in its pocket, I opened the long side pocket along the front and pulled out my old screwdriver. This was far from the first jacking I had done.

Getting back into the car, I began to pry the steel cover away. Asking Jungkook for a light, I waited while he pulled out his phone from the pocket of the red jacket. He was lucky no one had taken it. With the flashlight on, I turned the switch from off, past run, to start. The car came to life instantaneously. Waving the light away, I threw the screwdriver into the center console and placed the car in drive. Finally closing the driver’s side door, I peeled off into the night.

The radio came to life and Amy Winehouse sang loudly as I got onto the I-5.

“Til’ the chips were down

Know you were a gambling man.

Love is a losing hand.”

Jungkook was very quiet. I had just followed exit sounds and continued to drive toward Arizona. It was the least exciting state, and the people who lived there were far too judgemental outside of Phoenix, but it was the best way to get to the airport. That airport was far too big and strangely laid out that I knew we would be difficult to pick out in a crowd. Glazing over at Jungkook, he was holding the pack of cigarettes I had bought earlier.

“They’re for Jimin,” I suddenly said, switching lanes. “They were his favorite last time I saw him.”

“I think he’s smoking Camels now,” Jungkook replied.

“Can’t win them all.”

Sighing, I relaxed a bit more in my seat. So far, we have not been followed. Then again, I could be missing something. Tracking was not a strong suit of mine, and in my experience, the Russians were very, very evasive when they wanted to be. Still, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. 

“How do you know the boys in Brighton?” Jungkook asked, voice quiet and soft.

I thought about it for a moment. It was a rather long story, but knowing that we were familiar with the same people made it feel easier. Deciding to probe him for information first, I formed a plan in my head on how to go about this conversation.

“Have you ever heard of the person called Pыбка?” I asked, my American accent showing through. It had been a very, very long time since I had spoken Russian, and even then it had always been a second language that I learned from my time with the Shulaya.

“Ivan’s girl, right? The one who was murdered a few years back? What about her?”

Sparing him a quick glance, I spoke.

“Do I look dead to you?”

Jimin and I had known one another longer than anyone else in The Saints. He had been the last person to join the crew, and was deep within the Shulaya before he went to Jersey to join Hoseok’s team. I would never forget the look on his face the first time he saw me, or the fact that it took him all of ten minutes to get fully committed to keeping me safe. Everyone called me Mouse. Jin had come up with it after joking about me being able to live in someone’s attic and they would never know. It caught on and it was the only name anyone on the streets knew about. The ‘Little Fish’ of Shulaya long forgotten after the first two years of hiding. However, it seemed like my face had been seen by somebody and Ivan was not happy about my disappearing act. 

“Holy shit,” Jungkook said in awe. “We’re so fucked.”

I laughed, “Have some faith. Ivan is scary, but he’s also impulsive. I know him better than most and trust me- he doesn’t know how to keep his cool. Between Boston and NYC, I doubt he’ll get very far into their territory without raising hell.”

Jungkook made a strange noise.

“I’d be far more afraid of Yoongi than any of those Wiseguys.”

Scoffing, I saw the exit I needed to take in order to pull up at the last Holiday Inn before the long stretch of nothing at all. Jungkook seemed to see where my mind was going and began to look out of the window. After briefly going over what food options we had, we landed on Taco Bell. 

Ordering our food was simple enough. Jungkook was a huge tomato hater and was very upset to find that his Crunch Wrap had been ‘ruined.’ The motel seemed to have a few quests and I hoped we could get a room. Jungkook offered to pay. The frontdesk lady was kind and found us a room within 5 minutes. 

Using the elevator, I asked Jungkook if he still had the ‘thing’ with him. He nodded but said no more. It was probably better that way. Throwing my duffle bag onto my bed, I realized that Jungkook was still wearing a dress with the pants he had come inside in. 

Digging through my bag, I found a pair of sweatpants that would fit him well enough as well as an oversized nightshirt I rarely ever wore. I usually slept naked. Tonight, I will try to make my partner feel comfortable.

Throwing the clothes on his bed, Jungkook perked up a bit and seemed to be fine with their sizes. I wondered if he had been wearing more uncomfortable clothes at one time and shook my head. He had walked into this motel wearing that. Yes, Y/N, he has definitely been far more uncomfortable than tightly sweats. 

“You can take the bathroom first,” I pointed to the door. “You need it more than I do.”

Jungkook nodded, “Would you mind helping me get out of this thing? It still hurts to move my arms around too much.

Looking at him, I pinned him with an unimpressed look. We were not having one of those moments. Still looking at Jungkook, I unzipped the pouching with my switchblade in it and pulled the knife out. Walking to Jungkook, I quickly worked on the right side of the fabric. The left side was even quicker. Gently lifting his arm just enough to see his armpit, I cut the short sleeve from the bottom, following up with the top, and up the high neckline. Repeating it on the other side, the blood-soaked garment pooling to the floor. 

Jungkook seemed frozen. Looking at his face, his eyes were wide and staring at the blade in my hand. Thinking he might be uncomfortable with me standing so close to him with a weapon, I walked back to my bed.

“If you need help getting the shirt on, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied.

Picking up the spare clothes, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The water was on a few seconds later. Fully alone in the room, I looked around and decided to throw out the dress. With the torn up dress safely put away in my duffle, I tried to figure out what to do while I waited. 

Taking Jungkook’s phone off of his bed (he used a flip phone just like Yoongi did on the job), I quickly found my way to the contacts. Hovering over Jimin’s number, I paused. Not thinking about it for too long, I pressed it and placed my phone to my ear. He answered quickly.

“Where are you?” Jimin asked, voice very low.

“Are you safe to talk?” I replied, voice just as low.

I could hear the way Jimin rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving his lips.

“I’m fine,” His voice was still soft. “I’m at a casino right now. Did you steal his phone?”

My blood ran cold. Most of our guys loved gambling, but Jimin had always thought it was a dumb pastime. I knew Ivan had been trying to expand the Russian influence in Los Angeles, and I hoped that he knew what he was doing. Jimin tended to run into situations without contemplating everything. Instead of grilling him, I decided to ease his worries.

“We’re safe. Heading east.” I looked around the room distractedly. “And no. I’m using it while he’s taking a shower.”

Jimin sighed in relief, “Kook is a good guy. He’ll keep you safe long enough to make it back to Boston. I’ll be on my way back in a few hours.”

It was better to keep things vague. Just like I had not said where we were headed, Jimin’s answer could mean anything. I heard Jungkook cry out but he was quiet soon after. I hoped the work I had done was keeping. I had told him to keep the stitches covered.

“See you soon,” I forced a smile on my face. “I got you a pack of cigarettes.”

Jimin laughed, though it sounded more forced than normal.

“Stay safe. I have to go.”

I hung up without another word. If he had to go then he had to go. The shower was still running and I was bored again. Looking at the door, I was tempted to walk around for a while. I had a feeling I would get myself into trouble if I did, but I was curious to see if I could get some extra clothes for Jungkook. Possibly a set of car keys, too. Looking at the bathroom door, I figured he was going to be there for a while.

“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.

Getting my room key, I slipped out of the room quietly. 

The hallway was deserted, not a body in sight, but I had a feeling I could get something if I looked hard enough. Going to the elevator, I spotted a young couple laughing. Slowing my walk, I was happy to see that they were getting on the elevator.

Angling my body, I was practically jumping up and down when my eye caught on their room key. This would be too easy. The elevator chimed signaling someone was getting off. Quickly moving my body, I relied on their clinginess to sneak into the corridor without a problem. A group of people pooled out of the elevator and I drifted into their numbers.

The couple stood to the side and waited for us to pass. Using my foot, I tripped a young woman in front of me. She stumbled while I placed myself in a position to trip over her. The both of us dropped. The woman fell into the man. Falling, I shuffled closer to the man’s hand while the woman began apologizing profusely.

Quickly snatching the card from him, I slipped it into my pocket while I stood up. Adjusting my clothes, I quickly apologized as well. The couple waved the both of us off, seemingly unbothered, before getting on the elevator. Nodding to the woman, I turned toward the way the couple had come from. Looking at the keycard, I made my way toward the door with the number on it. I was lucky the woman and I had similar hair styles, but I was aware of Holiday Inn well enough to say that most of their cameras did not work.

Glancing up at the camera in the middle of the hallway, I was positive it was not working. Typically there would be a small, red dot that showed it was recording. Today, it was off. Letting myself in, I knew I had to be quick and clean.

Tonight I would only get clothes. Car keys were something I would have to snatch in the morning over breakfast. Someone would notice their keys missing in the middle of the night. Locating a large, black suitcase on the floor by the foot of the bed, I pulled it up onto the bed and unzipped it.

Carefully sifting through the clothes, I only pulled out enough for two outfits before gently placing everything back smoothly. They would probably be a bit big on Jungkook, but I doubted he would mind very much. I swore he was wearing a belt, but I had not been paying enough attention to know for sure. 

Going to the pockets of the bag, I was happy to find a container of hair pomade and hoped it might make Jungkook happy. He would be able to do his hair if he wanted. Grabbing a pack of hair bands and a pair of boxers, I was ready to leave. Going into the dresser, I pulled out the complimentary bag they gave every guest, I shoved the clothes in it before leaving the room. With the keycard in my hand, I dropped it in the spot the couple had been before making my way back to my own room.

Jungkook was sitting on his bed drying his hair when I came in. He was wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt I had given him. I was glad he was able to get it on alone, but I felt bad I had not been here to help him. Holding up the bag, I tossed it his way.

“The first robbery I’ve done in four years,” I shook my head. “You should feel special.”

Jungkook opened the bag and grinned at me. His hair went just past his shoulders when it was wet, his fluffy curls weighed down by the water. Sifting through the bag, he seemed the happiest about the hair ties. 

Getting my own clothes, I let him know I was going to take a shower. Getting under the hot water was a healing experience, and for the first time today I let a few tears slip out.

I was terrified, frustrated, but mostly- pissed.

Twelve years ago

Hands bound, I let my body relax. Ivan’s eyes were blazing, his anger palpable, but I refused to look away. He would never think I was weak again. Walking closer, the Russian yanked me up roughly, one of the straps of my sundress breaking.

“What the fuck did you do?” He seethed, his accent thick and almost incoherent through gritted teeth. “You always ruin everything you touch.”

Slowly, and with great care, I pooled spit into my mouth. With a quick gurgle, I spit in Ivan’s eye. My rebellion had angered just as much as it had excited Ivan. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, his hands burning my skin. Slamming me down, Ivan roared in anger before delivering a swift kick to my stomach.

Gasping, I tried my hardest to keep the vomit down. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wished I was with Alexei. He would never have treated me like this. As if the thought had transferred over to the man beside me, he kicked me again.

“Alexei is dead, Лох,” He shouted. “You’re mine now.”

With another swift kick, I cried out. Then, without warning my stomach twisted. Another kick. Finally, I threw up all over the concrete floor beneath me. 

For now. I was yours for now.

Present

With a new set of car keys in my hand, I walked into the parking lot. Jungkook was on the phone, but quickly hung up when he saw me approaching. Raising an eyebrow at him, I waved him over and we began walking together. Clicking the unlock button, I smiled when I saw the yellow Porsche. The two of us placed our things inside without a care in the world and drove off quickly after. 

I had found the targets for today the night before while walking around the hotel late last night. It was a young woman and her mother. The two of them had been a whirlwind and gave the staff hell. Unable to sleep, my head headaches from exhaustion, and their bickering only pissed me off more. Unfortunately for them, they had made a big show of their money and decided to brag about their car.

It took a few minutes to switch out license plates and even less time to steal her car keys this morning during breakfast. They were staying for another day and had not planned on leaving the hotel at all. Jungkook laughed once we were a safe distance away.

“I’m still in shock at that woman’s entitlement,” He shook his head. “Did you see the way she flipped out when they ran out of bacon before her ‘precious angel’ could get any?”

Chuckling, I kept my attention on the road.

“Her attitude was the only reason I swiped this thing. I would never get into something so obvious.”

“It was as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

Feeling confident from the jacking, I decided to play along.

“Do you steal from babies often?”

Jungkook giggled cutely, “I’ve cut down to twice a year.”

“Oh?”

“Halloween-” He counted with one finger, and lifted another, “-and Easter.”

“Easter?” My eyebrows pulled in as I laughed incredulously.

Jungkook grinned lazily. 

“Stockings are so last year.”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to think of him as a member of the mafia. While my age had made others test my abilities far more often than the others I never believed anyone doubted who I was. There was a look in your eye, this coldness, that separated you from the rest. I could pick out a killer in a line up- we were one in the same. However, Jungkook was impossible to get a read on. His boyish charms and good looks were not uncommon, but the innocence in his smile and the brightness that remained in his eyes were unsettling. Everything about him was unnerving. He was disarming and that alone was frightening.

Realizing the car had become quiet, I turned the radio on. It was a habit of mine. I did not like the silence. I hated it. Some trashy pop song blasted but I did not care. Jungkook did and began to look for something he liked more.

“What do you like?” He asked, pressing the screen to change the stations.

“Pick whatever,” I replied, flipping off the guy who cut me off.

Arizona was the worst state I had ever been to. The drive was not as awful as Texas, nothing will ever beat the twelve hours of hell to still be in that damned state, but it was not much better. Outside of Phoenix the towns were not as grand. Tucson gave her a run for her money, but never came close to the busy city. Driving through the desert, I asked Jungkook to pull up the directions to the airport. I no longer knew my way.

“How did you meet the guys?” I asked, eyes on the road.

Jungkook picked a pop station and leaned back in his seat.

“Through Jimin,” He replied. “They needed help dealing with someone. I had just left New York and we ran into each other in Vegas. I liked everyone so I decided to join.”

Raising an eyebrow, I quickly turned my head so he could see my expression.

“Ivan let you leave?”

“I wasn’t a member,” Jungkook mumbled. “Just an acquaintance. I was for hire.”

That was not what I had expected. Jungkook did not seem like a killer, but I had been proven wrong many times. When I lived with my parents I had met many assassins I would have never guessed who they were just looking at them. Even talking with them it was impossible to detect. Looking at the man, I found it hard to believe that we were from the same background. While I had ran from that life, Jungkook ran toward it with open arms. In fact, he seemed to pay it little mind.

“What family are you from?” I asked. “My family was under The Table.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re from the Underground?”

I nodded, “I never really wanted that life. I’m a much better thief anyway.”

Jungkook rubbed his bottom lip. I forced myself to focus on the road. Even if we were the only people out here, I did not want to risk anything. I had stolen the car and the plate and getting stuck out here would be hell.

“I’m with Sacarii.”

The Sacarii was the sister organization to The Table. While my family had mostly dealt with members of gangs and high profile families, members of the Sacarii were the people who went after other assassins. Stealing another look at Jungkook, I looked at the tattoos on his arm and tried to find his symbol. All of us got one, mine was a tiger on my right side, but the ink was too difficult to look at while driving.

“I have a tiger lily,” Jungkook said, noticing my assessment. “I have a few of them, actually.”

Lilies are from Japan, but I knew Jungkook was Korean. His name alone gave him away. Waving my hand, I asked him to explain when he got it.

“My family moved to Japan when I was fifteen. I had my first kill there so we decided that I would get something to represent that. The prayer hands on my back were done by the organization after the ordainment.”

Ordainments were very common. It was the process an assassin went through to become an official member of their organization. Their families were no longer defined by blood but the common experiences each one shared. The Table and the Sacarii were one big family, but oftentimes we did not get along with one another. Civil at best and competition at worst. Prayer hands with a rosary were the tattoos everyone got. It was large, covering the entire center of the back, with the family oath written above and below it. 

“I never got mine,” I admitted. “I ran off before my ceremony. That’s when I met Alexei.”

“How old were you?”

Smiling sadly, I replied. “Thirteen.”

“Oh,” He said. “I didn’t know they got people that young.”

“Well, he saw me kill someone and wanted to keep me. I doubt you knew him- he died a few years ago.”

Jungkook nodded, “Yeah. What was he like?”

Laughing, I spotted a gas station and decided to stop. We were at half a tank, but I wanted to be safe. Jungkook took out his wallet and handed me a twenty. 

“He was a better man than his brother,” I answered, taking the money. “He knew how to stay calm and respect other people. Alexei always kept good relationships with the other families. Ivan is an idiot who can’t handle criticisms of any kind.”

“He’s that awful? I mean, I only know him through brief meetings.”

“I’d rather be dead than serve him again,” I opened my door. “But you already know that.”

Settling in my seat, I glanced over at Jungkook. He looked tired and I let him know it was fine to sleep. He nodded and slipped his eyes closed shortly after. Taking my new phone out of my pocket, I decided to make a quick phone call before we took off. Jungkook and I had picked up a flip phone from Walmart on our way to the airport. It was more secure than any smartphone. Dialing the number, I waited.

“Hello?” Hoseok picked up.

“I’m landing in Massachusetts,” I replied, knowing he was aware of the situation by now. It had been a day and a half. “Pick me up at our spot.”

“Jin will be there.”

“Copy.”

Hoseok sighed heavily, “Is the kid okay? Heard you shook him up.”

Glancing at Jungkook, I was shocked he was snoring. 

“He’s fine,” I replied. “He’s definitely in pain, and tries to keep his movement to a minimum, but hides it from me. Attempts to, I should say.  I took care of him as best I could but Agust should get his hands on his ASAP.”

Hoseok hummed and I knew he was nodding. He was a very animated, lively person and could not sit still for long. He got into a fist fight with a Russian who took offense to his hand movements. 

“See you when I see you.”

“Three o’clock,” I said before hanging up.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I finally buckled my seat. Shaking Jungkook awake, I told him to put his belt on. He grinned at me lazily before doing it. He fell asleep again quickly. 

Happy to have a window seat, I watched as we began to take off. It had been a while since I was on a plane. The last time was when I was running to California as quickly as I could. Kansas had been nice when I had first left The Saints, but it quickly became suffocating. The silence and mundane town life made my skin crawl. California had seemed like it would be better, more fun, but it had become just as mundane after a while. 

I had always gotten bored easily. It was why I enjoyed pickpocketing. As a kid, my little hands and unassuming looks had made it easy. I never planned on getting good at it. At the time it felt less damning in comparison to what the people in my life wanted me to do. 

There was a time when I was happy killing, pleasing my family had always felt good, but that faded when my teenage years approached. Running away to New York was a quick, impulsive decision I had made when I was afraid of my future. Staring at the clear, blue sky, I scoffed. 

I had run away from one hell into another. I went from that one into another. The Saints were my family, but I would be lying if I said I felt they were any different from what I had always done. Kansas had been my first attempt at normalcy, and San Diego had been me living in that world.

And I loved it, in my own way. It was nice to have a routine. It felt good to have friends, even if they were the most surface level friendships I could allow myself to have, and I owned my own things. I had earned what I had. 

Now I was flying back to a place I was not sure I belonged anymore. I felt two halves of myself fighting one another. One half wanted to run again, to disappear, and get as far away from this place as possible. Then there was the other side of me, the twisted, dark, nasty side of myself that was reveling in all of this. My excitement was hard for me to figure out, and I began to doubt myself.

Had I ever really wanted this life? Has it all been a dream? A fantasy of a perfectly serene, normal, and legal lifestyle I had never known? Finding a cloud, I rubbed my temples and sighed. 

I doubted I would ever have an answer to that question.

Five years ago

Standing around the table, all of us went over the plan again. They were doing construction on the roof, so that would be the quickest, and easiest, point of entrance. I would go first while Hoseok and Jin dressed as police officers to take out the security guards in the back. Taehyung would take care of the cameras before this. Yoongi would follow behind me along with Jimin. I would lead the team after we had taken over the museum.

Looking over at Jimin, he was already looking at me. Everyone knew that this would be my last mission, and he had taken it the worst. We hardly spoke and he actively ignored me. I was surprised he was acknowledging me at all. Breaking eye contact, I went back to explaining the pieces we would be taking.

“Don was very specific about these three pieces,” I said, pointing to the Rembrandt and two pieces of jewelry. “These are our high payouts. Get these first. After that we can make quick work of the rest.”

“Who did you say the others were going to?” Yoongi asked.

“The rest are split up between some vendors I know,” I replied. “Freddie Newman, Diane Pollack, and Dwayne Smith. The jewels are for Georgie Boy, Archie, and two others. Park’s handling that.”

“This is a big job,” Hoseok mumbled. “Will the six of us be able to get it done?”

I nodded easily. 

“Yes, we’ll have all the time in the world once those guards are taken care of. I’m planning on this being an hour- two at most.”

Looking back at Jimin, I was happy to see he was grinning at me. We would be fine. Deciding we had gone over everything, I walked away from the table. 

“We’ll leave at midnight.”

“Copy,” Jimin replied.

Smiling to myself, I left the room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

Getting off the plane, I kept Jungkook close as we made our way to baggage claim. Being on the East Coast again was uncomfortable. I knew this airport like the back of my hand, knew every nook and cranny of these streets, but I still felt out of place. I was even more unsettled knowing there were people looking for me. 

Standing by the conveyor belt, we waited for my duffle bag to come out. Jungkook looked around, his scouting looking natural, and I kept my eyes on the bags. It came out a few minutes later, and I slung it over my shoulder. Jungkook wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.

“They’re here,” He whispered, a soft smile on his face. Lips brushing the top of my head, he started walking and kept me close. “They don’t know me, so we’ll be fine.”

Forcing a smile on my face, I wrapped my arm around his waist. My heartbeat quickened, and I found myself enjoying the way his body pressed into mine. Allowing myself a small glance around us, I saw two familiar faces near the escalators. Dimitri and Anton. As we neared the escalators, I knew they would notice me unless I acted very differently than what they remembered. 

Deciding to commit to our charade, I lifted my head up towards Jungkook. Kissing his cheek, I was able to hide my face from the two men. Jungkook stepped onto the elevator first. Turning him to face me, I grabbed his face and pressed our lips together. He was soft, gentle, and tasted like the licorice he’d gotten on the plane. He wrapped his arms around my waist and melted into the kiss. Pulling away, head pressed against his, I looked at the steps. 

“We’re almost at the top,” I mumbled.

Jungkook nodded and slowly moved away from me. Angling his body towards the front, he kept an arm firmly around my waist as we got to the top. Sparing a single glance behind me, the two men were none the wiser. Smirking, I ran my hand up and down Jungkook’s back in silent praise. 

Walking further and further away from the others, Jungkook’s arm did not move. I stayed close to his side, happy to have someone to lean on. It made sense now. Jimin sent him because he was less known to the others. Ivan would know him, and the people closest to him, but someone like Anton would be blindsided by his presence. They were expecting one of my boys. Stepping into the sun, the two of us were quick to hail down a taxi and slip inside. 

“We’re running a bit late,” I announced, buckling in. “Can you take us to the Hood Milk Bottle?”

“No problem,” The cab driver replied.

It was barely a 10 minute drive, but airport traffic made it feel like forever. Jungkook and I did not talk. Our closeness from earlier was officially stopped, and I felt silly for missing his warmth. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I grew shy. Just moments ago, his arms were wrapped around me. Catching sight of the tiger lily on his elbow, I had to quickly look back out of the window.

God, he was fucking hot.

Pulling out my phone, I found a new message on it. 

Unknown: Eating a lobster roll outside

Rolling my eyes, I replied.

Y/N: Of course you are. Two minutes.

Unknown: Lunch on me

Flipping the phone closed, I shoved it back in my back pocket. Looking out of the window, I did feel nostalgic. It had been such a long time and yet things stayed the same. There were a few new shops where old ones used to be, but the places I remembered the most fondly were still around. The mixed feelings I had were beginning to weigh down on me. 

Pulling up, I smiled. Hood was such an iconic, fun place. Looking back at Jungkook, I was touched to see him paying the cabby. Saying goodbye, the two of us got out of the car. The duffle had been in my lap. Jungkook stared up at the giant milk bottle in awe.

“Jin said he'll buy us lunch.”

Jungkook smirked, “What do you recommend?”

Walking toward the snack stand, I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m getting a lobster roll, but if you’re not into that, the soft serve is great.”

Walking around the side, I saw Jin sitting on one of the picnic benches eating. I was more surprised to see he was still enjoying his food than the purple hair. Jimin must have convinced him to do that. Whistling, I smirked at Jin and waved.

Jin was the oldest out of all of us, and spoke the least amount of English, but we were close. Standing, he offered me a hug which I happily accepted. Clearing my throat, I began speaking in Korean.

“You look nice,” I ruffled his hair. “This color looks really good on you.”

“Thanks,” He shoved my hand away. “Lobster roll? Thought you might have missed the New England taste.”

Nodded, I turned to Jungkook.

“What do you want?” I asked in English.

He shook his head at me, “Chocolate ice cream.”

When he spoke Korean, his voice was much deeper. Grinning at him, I looked back at Jin.

“One lobster roll and one chocolate soft serve.”

Going to order our food, Jin told us to sit and wait. Jungkook sat down next to me, his elbow on the table with his head resting on his fist. I was unsure of what to make of the look on his face. He seemed so… fond of me. No one had ever really looked at me like that before. I was used to anger, annoyance, or fear, but fondness was uncharted territory. The closest person I could think of had been Alexi, but even then he had always looked at me as a child. Jungkook did not.

“I didn’t know you spoke Korean,” He said, speaking the language.

“I know a lot of languages,” I replied. “I’m mostly fluent in English and Russian. My Korean is good, but I’m not fluent by any stretch of the imagination. I speak a decent amount of Spanish as well.”

“That’s so cool. Mine are Korean, Japanese, and English.”

Jin was back with our food. 

“Eat it in the car,” He said, “Everyone is waiting for us.”

“Is Park back in town?” Jungkook asked.

Jin shook his head, “Not yet. We haven’t heard from since yesterday.”

I knew we would talk more once we were out of the public eye. There was only so much we could say out here. Taking my roll, I followed Jin. Jungkook ate his ice cream happily, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was my turn to smile fondly. 

Pulling into a small driveway, I was confused. I did not recognize the house. Painted a calming sky blue with black shutters, a well-groomed lawn, and a small flower garden, it was unassuming and plain. Looking over at Jungkook, he seemed happy to be here. 

“Where are we?” I asked.

Jungkook smiled at me, “Yoongi’s.”

Taken aback, I froze. That had been the last person I had thought of. The last time I had seen everyone, Yoongi and Hoseok were living in a shitty condo in South End. While I was confused, and even unsettled, by the changes I was also pleased. It felt good to see Yoongi living more civilly. I wondered what had changed.

Hopping out of the Jeep, I met up with Jin and Jungkook at the hood before following behind them. The house was pristine and the small cul de sac was quiet. Eyes bulging out of my head, I fought back the urge to laugh out loud at the sight of a bird feeder on the edge of the lawn. 

Standing on the small porch, the three of us huddled close together. Jungkook gently moved my body in front of his, successfully shielding my body from the street. Leaning back slightly, I brushed my back against his chest quickly before straightening my back. I was beginning to lean into my growing attraction, but knew better than to take it any further than small touches. The airport had been for survival- nothing more. 

Jin knocked, the rhythm the only familiar thing about this place, before the door swung open. On the other side, a woman peered out at us. Her hair was short, wildly frizzy with unkempt curls, and bright red. Her eyes were brown and skin alabaster. The green dress she wore looked nice on her full figure. She smiled brightly at Jin, saying hello with joy. Her voice had hints of an accent but it was too faint for me to pick up.

“It’s nice to see you Johanna,” Jin greeted, kissing the woman’s cheek before gesturing towards me. “Johanna, Mouse. Mouse, Johanna.”

The red head gave me a polite smile before offering her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mouse.”

“Y/N,” I corrected, glaring at Jin. “Y/N is fine outside of business.”

“This is business though, isn’t it?” Johanna tilted her head at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. I decided right away that I liked her. “Come in. Hello Kookie.”

“Hey Jo,” The man replied.

Stepping inside, I looked around. The inside was just as perfect as the outside. Brightly colored walls with pops of color scattered around, mostly in the art hanging on the walls, with plants everywhere. It smelled like apple cinnamon and Pinesol. The hardwood floors were loud as we walked along them. The size of the living room was bigger than my entire apartment. Catching sight of a collage of photos, I looked over them the best I could as I walked.

All of them were nice photos, family photos, but one caught my eye. Yoongi was smiling, a rare sight, and his eyes were shining brightly. He was on the beach, arms wrapped around Johanna tenderly, while she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. She wore a white dress that hit her just at the ankle, a long, thin veil clipped onto the back of her head. The Saints were there along with a few people I did not recognize. Belatedly, I realized that I was looking at a wedding picture. A wedding I had missed. A wedding I had never been invited to. A wedding I had never even knew. Eyes glued to the photo, I cause a glimpse of Jungkook in a far-off corner, almost completely cut out, but he had been there. 

I knew my hurt feelings were unjustified. I had been the one who told them to leave me out of their affairs. I had said emergencies only. Still, I found myself growing increasingly alienated. I truly had no place here anymore. The only purpose I had ever served was monetary gain. The friendships I had built along the way were as fickle as the ones I had in New York. 

Arguing with myself, I struggled to stay present. As we walked deeper into the house, the need to run presented itself all over again. Everything I had known was gone. Everyone was different. Everything was different. Sparing a glance over at Jungkook, a seed of resentment began to grow in my chest. 

No one had ever referred to me as affectionately as they had Jungkook. No one had ever seemed endeared by my failures. Hell, none of these guys even acknowledged my feelings half the time. Staring at the back of Johanna’s head, I found that I didn't really like her that much anymore. She was loved. I was tolerated.

Still, I told myself that they had come for me. They had wanted to keep me safe. And yet, the insecurities that had always lived in my head reared their ugly head and reminded me that it was for their own good. I was useful. As long as I would be of use to them, then I would be protected. It would never be the same reasons they would fight for Johanna. They would fight for her because they wanted to keep her safe.

I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them. I did not want comfort from Jungkook. I just wanted to get this over with so I could go back to San Diego. Even if they were surface level, those friendships were still more loving than whatever the fuck I had here. I hated Boston. I hated New York. I hated the entire East Coast. 

“Y/N?” Johanna called out, looking back at me with concern. “Are you alright?”

Nodding, I replied. 

“I’m fine. Just lost in my head.”

I hated the edge my voice had taken on. I hated just how much I had to control myself around these people. I wanted to scream, shout, cry; whatever. I just wanted to feel myself lose control for a little while. The woman did not believe me but offered me a smile regardless. 

“I asked if you would like a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” I replied.

Jin seemed suspicious of me but said nothing at all. He had always known I liked my space. Still, I could tell he was worried. I knew my thoughts were out of line, I knew that I was over thinking and attempting to overcompensate, but it was impossible to stop it from happening. The downward spiral was difficult to manage. 

Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around my shoulder. Jumping, I whipped my head around to see Jungkook smiling at me. It was a goofy smile, one that he pulled when he was feeling playful, before he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What happens when you get water on a table?” He asked.

Taken aback, I opened and closed my mouth several times.

“What?”

“It becomes a pool table.”

Mouth agape, I blinked in disbelief before shoving him away. I let out a small laugh and shook my head at him. Where in the world had that come from?

Seokjin was laughing, hands clapping, and praising the younger man for the joke. Jin was a big fan of dad jokes and enjoyed making them up whenever he could. Typically, you would have to know enough Korean for them to make sense, but they never failed to get a few chuckles out of me. The ridiculousness of the jokes coupled with the corny delivery was always funny. Johanna placed a glass in front of me smiling fondly at Jungkook.

“He’s a mess,” She said, looking at me in faux exasperation. “I don’t know how you survived the trip here. He talks too much.”

Shaking my head, I took a large sip of the water.

“It’s better than the awkward silence Yoongi brings along.”

She laughed, knocking her head back.

“Touche,” She giggled. “He is a bit intense sometimes.”

“You’ve been in Boston for an hour and you’re already turning my wife against me.”

The voice had come from behind me. Spinning around dumbly, I was face-to-face with Yoongi. The scar on his face was just as prominent as it had always been, taking up his entire left cheek into forehead, but his eyes seemed lighter than I remembered. He was skinnier than the last time I saw him, too. He was wearing a simple black shirt with a pair of jeans. He seemed completely at ease. 

“Hey kid,” He greeted Jungkook with a grin. “Heard Mouse got you good.”

Jungkook flushed, ducking his head while rubbing his neck.

“Oh?” Jin chimed, his voice mocking. “The great Sacarii taken down by a little mouse?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily.

“He didn’t even try anything,” I admitted. “I was the aggressive one.”

“He was just an idiot,” Jin teased.

Yoongi tsked, “Park was the bigger idiot of the two. He’s going to give me an aneurysm.”

“You’re too hard on him,” Johanna gently scolded. “You know Jimin has a roundabout way of being right.”

 Jungkook laughed, “A broken clock’s right twice a day.”

A silence fell over our group. It felt unnatural to be standing in a nice kitchen talking over mundane topics with everyone. It was a long ways away from the roach infested alleyways and closed off apartment complexes. I lived with Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung when I was in Boston. Our small one bedroom was always cluttered, overcrowded, and was the main spot for our meetups. The conference room had been stuffed between two twin-sized mattresses with a large, round table in the middle of it all. I slept on the pull-out sofa in the front. 

“I guess we should talk,” Yoongi said, looking me up and down. 

“I guess so,” I replied.

Walking over to him, I realized that no one else was following. Looking back at the other three, they simply looked back. Sighing, I let it go. Being alone with Yoongi was not an unwelcome thing, but it had always made me feel like I was in trouble. Laughing at myself, I followed the man out of the kitchen and into the dining room. This time I was the one who was in trouble. 

Walking out of the dining room, we were now in a small reading room with a staircase. A green, stand-up piano was tucked away between tall bookshelves and more plants. Following Yoongi upstairs, I refrained from looking too closely at things. The house was much bigger than it looked. Walking past a few doors, we stopped before Yoongi opened one. 

Gesturing me to follow, I smiled at the sight of the old table. It was far too large, held six chairs, and was cheaply made. Someone had refurbished it and I wondered if it had been Johanna. She seemed to like everything to be nice and neat. It was an aesthetically pleasing layout, but this room was all Yoongi. The dark colored walls and furniture were in stark contrast to the otherwise white house. Taking a seat at the table, I pulled out the chair directly across from him.

There was a line up of photos scattered on the desk along with a few letters. I recognized two of the women but the others were unfamiliar to me. Looking around, I scowled when I saw a picture of Ivan. I would be lying if I said he was physically unattractive. Ivan had always had this air around him and coupled with his angular features and blue eyes it was no wonder why women chased him. I knew him, however, and the slope of his cheekbones and the perfectly groomed dirty-blonde hair did nothing but repulse me. He looked everything like his brother. He looked nothing like his brother.

Picking the photo up, I looked closely. It was candid. Someone had been hiding when they took it since the man seemed to be unaware of the camera. He was smoking a cigarette and behind him was a beach. Trying to figure out where he could be was hard, but it was nowhere near New York. It was too sunny, the waves too high, and I could see a surfer in the background. 

“Johanna took that,” Yoongi suddenly said. “We were in California. It’s where we got married.”

Mind racing, I kept looking at the picture. Ivan had been close to me. Very close, in fact. Trying to figure out how I could have been traced, I thought of Kimberly and winced. It would take no time at all to figure out if it really was me. He could just send some random into the salon after seeing a post. I looked different but I was still me. He could have scouted out the place for months without me being any wiser. Closing my eyes, I dropped the photo.

“He’s known where you are for a while,” He continued. “He had asked Jungkook to take care of you a few weeks ago, but the kid refused. He knew your face. Ivan’s been trying to figure out the best plan of getting to you without pissing us off.”

“So he thought forcing me back to New York was the best option?” I spat.

Yoongi nodded, “In his mind, you’d be under his claim again so we’d have no authority. Either he’s crazy or stupid.”

“Both,” I replied. “Always both.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Eyes searching the pictures for more signs, I grew angry. 

“Why are you only just now telling me?” I demanded, picking apart each detail of the photographs. “I should have known from the very beginning.”

“I thought so, too,” Yoongi defended. “It was Jimin telling us to cool it. He thought he could get it under control since he’s known Ivan for so long. It didn’t work out and Jimin was kicked out of the family.”

“What?” I shouted.

Ivan was losing his damn mind. Jimin was the closest thing to Alexi those boy had after Ivan took over. They loved him, I loved him, and to watch him get kicked out over me would have been a massive blow to Ivan’s credibility. Loyalty was gone from New York it seemed, and it would only be a matter of time before Ivan came to the same conclusion. They don’t make them like Jimin anymore. He was only trying to keep the peace. Thinking of my friend, I willed back my tears. He had wanted me to stay in California. He didn’t want me to come back.

“They’re not doing well,” Yoongi admitted. “Georgie Boy and I talked and he’s with us regardless. The Italians haven’t been appreciating Ivan’s ways either. Hoseok spoke with the Gambinos and they said they’ll light up the Russians if they get into their territory again.”

“Again?”

Yoongi smiled without humor.

“Ivan’s boys were selling in the Gambino’s turf. Didn’t end well for them. They aren’t going to tolerate that shit again, and the other families are on the lookout as well. Have to say, the boy has lost his fucking mind.”

Going over the information, I felt more confident than I had before. Ivan was hoping to get me back into his arms first. Then he’d kill me. Or keep me. It was impossible to know for sure. Either way, he had a rude awakening if he thought my boys were going to let it happen without consequences. Thinking back to my thoughts when I first came inside, I reminded myself that we were connected. I meant more to them than property. They weren’t Ivan. 

They weren’t Alexei either.

Shoving that thought down, I refocused on the photo of Ivan. He looked worse than I had last seen him. His age was beginning to show, and I sneered at the sight of the family tattoo. I had been claimed by many groups in my life. The tiger for my family, the slope-edged star on my collar bone for Alexei, the clerk on my ribs for my skill with a blade, and St. Anthony for The Saints. Ivan’s name had been cut into my skin by the man himself after I killed a rival without permission. The scars were faded now, but I never liked to show my stomach anymore. You could still see the carving and I would always know they were there. 

 Eyes zeroing in on Ivan’s calf, I saw red as I caught sight of the dagger entwined by a snake. It was in the same spot as mine. They all represented something. 

The star was commonplace for all Russians while my clerk was far more specialized. I got it after I helped Alexei take care of a snitch. I hated thinking about that night, but it earned me my stripes. I got my dagger a few months later. The dagger was rare, only given out to a leader of a “suit” of thieves. Alexi had promoted me, and I controlled my own section of New York alongside him. Ivan did not deserve that tattoo even if he was the boss.

“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi said.

I nodded.

“Why would he want you back so badly? He hates you.”

I smiled ruefully, looking up from the picture. 

“I’m Alexei’s girl and he finds great pleasure in keeping me around just to spite him. Even if he’s dead, it’ll never be enough. Breaking me down was always the goal.”

“Were you and Alexei…”

Yoongi did not need to finish the sentence. It was a fair question and one that everyone asked at some point. The Saints never liked picking into my past too much. They knew it had been rough, they knew what Ivan and I’s relationship was like, so they put it to rest. Yoongi had seen my stomach once, said he was going to kill him one day, and never brought it up again. Latching onto the memory, I further reinforced that they cared for me. This was not a dangerous place. These are my friends.

“No, Alexei would never. I was only 13 when we met. He was 19. We were like siblings more than anything. More than he and Ivan ever were.”

“Ivan was jealous?” I nodded. “Typical.”

“He’s the one who killed him, you know,” I leaned back in the chair. “I was there that night. That’s why Ivan hates me. I know too much.”

Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. It was a completely different world than he was used to. The Irish took care of their own. While it may have involved violence and punishments being handed out from time to time, there had always been unwavering loyalty to one another. For Hoseok it was the same. Snitches were snitches but you always had people you knew were on your corner. When Ivan saw an in he took it, even if it meant killing his older brother, and everyone suffered for it. I had not said anything out of the code of ethics we built, but that never stopped word from spreading. Everyone knew Ivan killed Alexei but no one could prove it.

Yoongi sucked his teeth, “They know you came home. Jimin let us know about that. He and Kai have been all over this shit.”

I hummed, “They had a couple guys at the airport. Jungkook and I got past them easily, though.”

Yoongi looked at me strangely now. It was in between concern and pride, but I figured it was the closest thing to friendly I would get from him. It was not his fault his face looked the way it did. Wanting to lighten the mood, I decided to ask him about his wife.

“So, who’s Johanna?”

Yoongi actually cracked a smile.

“She’s a nuclear engineer. Works at BU and moved to America seven years ago.”

“How’d that even happen?”

Yoongi shrugged, “I don’t even know. We met at a restaurant Georgie took me to. She was there with some friends. We bumped into one another and she gave me her number. I didn’t call but we ran into each other again at a bar. Stuck like glue ever since.”

Gently smiling I replied, “Sounds nice. I’m glad you found someone.”

Yoongi looked down bashfully. He was like an entirely new person now. Yoongi had never been one to show emotions outside of anger and annoyance. Even with us he had been a hardass. It was strange but nice at the same time. I liked it more than the robot I was used to.

“She’s a good person,” He whispered, suddenly serious. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have left her alone. She deserves better than a life of crime and being entangled in my bullshit.”

I understood where he was coming from.

“You could always leave. Runaway to Iceland and never look back.”

Yoongi grinned, “I thought about it but I don’t have any skills outside of this. What would I do? Unlike you, some of us have never thought past our horizons. Besides, I have other people to think about.”

I also understood that as well. I had been afraid of change for a long time, and I had known I wanted it for a while. I was unsure how long they had known one another, or had been together, but Yoongi had always said he’d die in Boston. I doubted he thought that way now. 

“It’s okay to be selfish,” I mumbled. “Things haven’t been easy and there were times when I missed the craziness, but I can say it’s an experience everyone should have. I love both of my lives, but I’d be lying if I said I’d choose this over California.”

Yoongi nodded in thought. We would drop this conversation and likely never pick it back up again, so I knew I should say my peace now. Whatever he decided to do would ultimately be on his shoulders, but I thought it would be okay to push him to follow his heart’s desires. I was a dreamer and I hoped the others would find a dream to hold onto as well.

Walking downstairs, I was tired. The traveling had finally caught up to me and I wanted to get some rest while I could. Walking into the kitchen, the three of them were still talking. Johanna had started to cook something. It smelled nice but my stomach churned at the thought of food. Making my presence known, I yawned loudly and stretched my arms above my head.

“Sleepy?” Jungkook asked, completely at ease. 

He looked right at home here. Briefly I wondered if he stayed here often enough for that to be the case. Yoongi hated other people in his space, but he had changed since I last saw him. Jungkook, however, did not seem like someone who would like living with other people. He was mostly quiet, sweet, but standoffish at times. Jin grinned at me.

“Sorry to say I’m full,” The older man took a sip from a glass. I could not tell what it was and did not care to know. I rubbed my eyes dramatically and yawned again. “Jimin and I are rooming together. I doubt you want to take the sofa. Let’s just say I’ve been taking advantage of his absence.”

“I’ll take what I can get at this point,” I replied with another yawn. Shaking my head, I groaned. “God, I hate it when that happens.”

“Jungkook can keep you,” Johanna offered. “I’d let you stay here but my niece is spending the weekend. I don’t want to put her in a bad position.”

I knew what she meant. I would not want to put a child in the middle of this bullshit either. Looking over at Jungkook, I raised my eyebrow in silent questioning. He nodded back at me with a grin. I smiled back at him.

“We should go while we have daylight,” Jungkook said, a pair of keys in his hands.

I had no idea where they had come from.

“I can wait,” I protested. “You should eat first.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. You haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“Y/N!” Jin scolded.

I non committedly waved him off. Scrunching my face up at Jin, I mumbled something close to ‘leave me alone,’ but I was doubtful it came out properly. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I leaned into Jungkook’s side as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Guiding me away from the kitchen, I knew I heard Jin make a comment about how close we were.

“You’re just jealous she likes me more than you,” Jungkook snapped back.

“Does not,” Jin replied, childishly whining.

Johanna laughed and I could hear Yoongi coming down the stairs. Jungkook lead me back into the reading room and turned left. Going down two steps we were in front of a door.

“Be safe!” Johanna called out.

“Always, noona,” Jungkook replied.

Leading me to the room, I realized we were in a garage. I was again surprised. There were two cars, both of them very nice and sleek, surrounded by expensive tools and equipment. Back in the day, I would have swiped everything in this room and stole one of the cars. Now, I was being led toward the black Marcedes on the farthest side of the room. 

“This one’s mine,” Jungkook said, attempting to fill the space.

“First one we haven’t stolen,” I joked.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I melted into the seat before Jungkook was in the vehicle. Opening the glovebox, I moved my legs out of the way as the man dug around the compartment. Finally he pulled a smartphone out and quickly turned it on. A few minutes later, the garage door was opening and we were pulling out of the large driveway. We passed Jin’s Jeep on the way out and Jungkook could not help but make a snide comment about the ugly car. I felt comfortable enough to try and fall asleep.

“You know,” Jungkook announced, making my eyes snap open. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever worked with.”

I chuckled, my drowsiness making it difficult to focus. 

“Thanks. You’re not that bad.”

“I’ve been useless for the entire trip,” Jungkook argued. “You stole the cars, got me clothes, made sure we were able to get flights without getting into some shit for it, and you always tried to make me feel more comfortable.”

Snorting, I looked over at the man.

“I shot you.”

Jungkook burst out laughing.

“I broke into your house.”

“Eye for an eye,” I offered, laughing.

Jungkook spared me a look in order to flash one of his blinding smiles. I noticed now that his front teeth were slightly bigger than they should be. 

“Really,” Jungkook was serious again. “I feel bad for being dead weight. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’m not really known for stealing cars or running off into the night, but I know how to kill someone.”

Looking at me again, Jungkook’s boyish smile and light eyes were on. In their place were hard lines, a slightly down-turned pout, and a coldness that surrounded him I was unaccustomed to. While earnest, his expression felt wrong. Jungkook was sunshine and this felt like an eclipse.

“No one is going to touch you. I’ll cut their fucking hands off finger-by-finger if need be to get my point across.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked, confused.

We did not know one another. Hell, I shot this fucking guy. And yet here he was devoting his life to keeping me safe. It was crazy. Then again, this life was like that. Putting myself in Jungkook’s shoes, I thought about it the other way around. Would I kill for him?

“Because you’re my friend,” He answered without hesitation. “You’re my friend and I would like to get to know you better.”

Yes, I thought, I would kill for this kid.

Humming, I decided against saying anything else. I was far too tired for this conversation. Letting my body win, I closed my eyes and leaned against the car window. I fell asleep quickly, but I found no peace. Ivan’s face flashed through my mind, his eyes alight with anger, and my blood was all over his hands. My screams echoed in the background. He placed his knife against my skin again and drew a “V” right next to the “I.”

Eleven years ago

Standing beside Hoseok, I stared up at the apartment complex wearily. It was small, bricked, and disgusting. I could smell trash and smoke everywhere and people were yelling. I did not like it here. Not at all.

Looking over at the older boy, I made sure to show him my discontent. I could admit that South End was nicer than my old place in Brooklyn, but only for the quieter atmosphere. Everything else was just as nasty. Hoseok shoved me forward and scolded me for acting like a “freak.”

“People are going to know you’re new,” Hoseok complained. “Then  I’m going to have to break their fucking head open for stepping out of line. Then Yoongi is going to dislike you. So, just fucking walk and keep your head down.”

Anger flaring, I stopped. Hoseok bumped into my back. Groaning loudly, he went to yell at me again. Scowling, I elbowed him in the stomach harshly. When he groaned and grabbed his stomach, I turned around and punched him in the face. While he barely moved, eating the hit easily, it seemed to get the message across.

“Don’t talk to me like that, bitch,” I seethed. “You’re not my dad.”

Waiting for Hoseok to hit me back, I stood there with my fists balled up. He looked at me intensely, his hands still clutching his stomach. His eyes went from my face to the small patch of exposed skin on my stomach. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, I pulled down the too-short shirt and yelled at him again to hit me.

Instead of violence, Hoseok simply took up straight. Breathing through his nostrils, he seemed to be calming himself down. I could see the start of a blackeye forming where I had hit him. My regret began eating away at me instantly, but I refused to back down. He deserved that hit. He needed to know I was not going to be his little plaything. 

Hoseok just continued to walk, telling me to follow, and I could tell he was trying to be nicer this time around. Confused and more uneasy than before, I kept my hands ready for a fight. I was not sure when this nice-guy act would stop.

Being shaken awake, I realized we were at Jungkook’s. Glancing at the time, I was shocked we had driven almost two hours. We were parked in a small lot with a large brick building to the right. Jungkook turned the car off and got out. Quickly following him, I wondered where we were.

It was a nice place. They looked like townhomes and I could smell someone barbecuing. Jungkook looked back at me, a few paces ahead, and continued to walk around to the front. Every house had large bushes in the front yards. Hydrangeas grew vibrantly along the walkway with spaces to make way for the entryway to homes. Jungkook turned and I followed.

The front was identical to the others. The only difference I could see was Jungkook’s ‘no shoes’ sign right out front. Rubbing my eyes, I continued to wake up and get the crust off of my skin.

“It’s small,” Jungkook suddenly said, “But it’s nice.”

“Where are we?” I asked, stepping into the house and kicking off my shoes.

“Chatham,” He replied, shrugging his jacket off. “It’s out of the way but I like the beach.”

The first thing I noticed was the large, beige sectional in the living room. On the wall was a large television above a faux fireplace. The entire house smelled like wood polish and oranges. I liked the carpeted floors and was pleasantly surprised by how clean everything was. There were no photos or personalized art hanging on the walls, but I guessed Jungkook never really liked those sorts of things. He was personable but in the moment. Jimin was a photo monster.

Thinking of my friend, I hoped he was alright. It was unlike him to go full radio silent. At the very least he would have called and checked in. Perhaps he had and no one bothered to tell me. Catching a glimpse of myself in the large, gold framed mirror hanging above the dining table, I flinched. 

I looked just as bad as I had begun to feel. I was tired, my eyes puffy, and I was embarrassed by the drool dried at the corner of my lip. My shoulder was stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping in the car and my clothes looked a mess. Jungkook had my duffle bag on his shoulder and I belatedly realized I have never even thought to grab it. I had not even brought it inside.

“Thank you,” I said.

Jungkook smiled at me. 

“It’s no problem. The room’s not being used anyway.”

“No,” I shook my head and walked up to him. Carefully taking the bag, I slug it over my shoulder with a knowing look. “Thanks for grabbing my shit. And for the room. I appreciate it.”

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck and turned red. He was not good with compliments no matter how much he seemed to enjoy them.

“Friends, right?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

Walking past him, I distracted myself from my racing heart by figuring out where his washing machine was.

After taking a shower, I tip-toed my way back to the room Jungkook had given me. I had been on edge since I got here. He was kind, caring, and attentive. I had never really seen someone show all three at the same time, and never toward me. My friends and I were subtle types, so to have someone so open and honest with their feelings was a hard pill to swallow. In California it was safe, in California it was expected, in California it was sacred; in Boston it was nerve wracking.

I could never be sure of how genuine Jungkook really was. When I was in his presence, it was easy to say that he was just that simple. Once I got alone it took all of me not to sneak out of a window and run. Hoseok had always said I needed to work on trusting people, so I would try.

I knew my behavior was only heightened by my attraction to him. Attractive people were the worst. Liking Jungkook would not do any favors for either one of us. I would get swallowed up by the life I so desperately wanted to leave, and Jungkook would be stuck in an awkward situation with the rest of the crew if it came to the light. No one would win and the outcome would be the same if I said anything or not. I was leaving Boston as soon as the situation was handled.

Luck was not on my side. As I turned the corner to reach the door of my bedroom, Jungkook was coming up the stairs. Carrying two cups, he flashed me a small smile and walked the rest of the way up. I froze in my spot. Caught red handed, I tried to play off my unsuccessful sneaking and took the cup with a smile. Jungkook did not seem to buy it but looked more amused than anything.

“What’s this?” I asked, smelling it.

“Cocoa,” He replied. “It’s not winter but still chilly.”

I nodded and took a generous sip. It was warm and silky. Humming in satisfaction, I took another sip and licked my top lip. Cocoa was one of my favorite things when I was a child. It was one of the few fond memories I had. Jungkook looked happy.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked. “To get your mind off things?”

It was funny that he thought Ivan was what had been plaguing my mind. I may not be a very violent person now, but there was a time I was ruthless. The Russians did not scare me as much as they once had either. My initial response had been mostly shock, anger, and most of all, frustration. I had not been scared in a very long time. I doubted I ever would be.

“Sure,” I said, keeping my thoughts out of the conversation. What Jungkook did not know will not hurt him. He was only trying to help. “I’m not picky.”

Going down the stairs, I felt the same nervous butterflies growing in my stomach again. We were going to be closer than I would like to be. I was afraid of what that might do to the both of us. I did not know where Jungkook’s head was, but I was not foolish enough to believe that I was immune to any advances. The ball would stay in his court. I had enough self control to let that be a rule.

Sitting on the couch, I curled up on the end and waited. Netflix was already pulled up and waiting. Jungkook sat two cushions away. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, he began scrolling as we talked about possible movies to watch. We ended up on a random Jason Statham film. I watched mindlessly since every one of his movies were practically the same.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asked me fifteen minutes in, clearly bored and disinterested in the action sequence. I could not blame him. There was no way anyone could use a gun like that in real life, and I was becoming annoyed by the plot armor. “I have ramen.”

I nodded, “That’s fine.”

Moving to stand up, Jungkook waved me off and went to the kitchen himself. Not arguing, I got more comfortable and zoned out once more. It was hard not to feel the pull towards him. All I kept thinking about was the way his lips felt at the airport. Refocusing on the movie, I rolled my eyes at the bomb scene. There was no way in hell you were getting up and walking away from something that big.

Of course, Jason Statham had done just that. 

Jungkook came back a few minutes later, two large cups of ramen in hand, and sat down at the sofa. We ate in silence, neither one of us interrupting the bad movie again. When I went up to bed I could only think about how his hands would feel on me.

Taglist: @ippid @jkslaugh97 @destructive-memories @ash07128 @heartjiminie @adventures-in-bookland @canyon-lwt​ 

[kookiewithluv]

..★.──MASTERLIST──.★..

• TITLE: Drowning In Devotion

• PAIRING: Merman!Taehyung x Human!Reader

• GENRE: Supernatural AU / Fluff / Rom-Com

• RATING: 18+

• WORD COUNT: ongoing

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains explicit content and mature themes, including extensive smut, which may not be suitable for all readers. Graphic descriptions of sexual encounters, intense emotional turmoil, and complex romantic dynamics are featured prominently throughout, adding layers of passion and angst to the narrative. Reader discretion is advised.

• SUMMARY: When you, a high-powered CEO, escape an assassination attempt, you find yourself saved by a mysterious merman who has a royal secret. Their forbidden love is tested by a time-bound curse and the depths of the ocean, leading to a poignant reunion after years apart.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just holler also character asks and drabble requests are open, so hit me up with your wildest ideas.

[kawaikisses]

m.list ; Reading list.

Updated. Jan 22, 2024.

Note : I read k-pop idols x reader/ orginal female character fics, so this list is organized keeping that in mind, I do not personally have any issues with other genders, this is just my preference. Thankyou. If you hate unnecessarily, sincerely, no fucks will be given.

(everything is organized by alphabetical order)

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄.

angst .

fluff .

smut .

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐔’𝐒.

artist au .

arranged marriage au .

assassin au .

baker au .

bartender au .

BDSM au .

best friend’s brother au .

best friends to lovers au .

best friend’s sister au .

boyfriend au .

camboy au .

camgirl au .

camp counselor au .

CEO au .

chef au .

childhood friends to lovers au .

club au .

college au .

coworker au .

crime au .

dad au .

doctor au .

dancer au .

detective au .

divorce au .

enemies to lovers au .

established relationship au .

exes to lovers au .

fantasy au .

farm au .

father au .

friends to benefits au .

friends to lovers au .

fuckboy au .

fuckgirl au .

forbidden au .

gamer au .

god au .

hitman au .

horror au .

husband au .

hybrid au .

idiots to lovers au .

idol au .

king au .

lawyer au .

mafia au .

magic au .

medical au .

musician au .

neighbours au .

noona au .

one night stand au .

photographer au .

pirates au .

professor au .

prince au .

rich au .

road trip au .

roommate au .

royalty au .

second chance au .

secret relationship au .

sex worker au .

single parent au .

social media au .

songwriter au .

soulmate au .

spy au .

superhero au .

supernatural au .

tattoo artist au .

teacher au .

unrequited love au .

vampire au .

werewolf au .

wife au .

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒.

kim namjoon .

kim seokjin .

min yoongi .

jung hoseok .

park jimin .

kim taehyung .

jeon jungkook .

ot7 .

↬𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄.

drama .

hurt/comfort .

magic .

mutual pining .

mystery .

romance .

slow burn .

thriller .

age play .

crack .

Note : please let me know if any of the links are not working. Thankyou.

Note : since Tumblr only allows 100 links per page, so this list will be continued in another page, which is linked down below.

↬masterlist continued .

[potaetopic]

And so, the end of the Astera Empire came when the star of the empire dimmed forever. The End.

its not even a quarter of the story yet im hooked. HOW DID U GET THE STORY LINE? THE PLOT? IT STILL AMAZED ME

You tend to immerse yourself in every book you read, imagining yourself in their world.

damn, right 😭

“I’m back,” you whisper softly.

crying, brb

ughh, it feels like walking down a memory lane, cant wait for more!!

The Return of an Empress | 01

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on)

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~6k (Unedited)

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive. 

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

A/N: Hello! So this is my first time writing a story and posting it one here, and I’m a little nervous haha. There won’t be a lot going on for the first chapter so bear with me. Since I’m still kinda new to Tumblr please be understanding and patient with me as I don’t really know what I’m doing haha! 

Also shorter text you see in italics are the readers thoughts and longer texts in italics are events that occurred in the book! Thanks for giving my story a chance! Enjoy ~

Masterlist

Next chapter >>

Chapter 26 of Empire’s Star

“Empress”

Empress Y/n scoffs and turns her head to the entrance of her throne room, only for a smirk to slowly form at the sight before her. A few meters in front of her stood the 7 people she had trusted the most, with determined expressions on their faces. 

The empress smirks, “my, my, to what do I owe the pleasure of being visited at this hour?”

Being met with silence, the empress raises a brow, “well? Do you have any plans to tell me or are you just going to stand there?”

After a few seconds of silence, the once-loyal advisor, Namjoon, takes a tentative step forward, “your majesty, we have stood back and supported you for years, hoping you would change. But you’ve changed for the worse and we will not stand by and let you bring this empire down with you.”

Y/n smirks and slowly stands, “and what do you plan on doing Namjoon?”

He scowls and brings his sword out, with the 6 men following his actions behind him. Understanding the message long ago, the empress nonchalantly grabs her short sword as well and smirks, “And here I thought we were going to have a pleasant talk. I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part huh?” 

Y/n continues making her way down the steps, “So I’ll be assuming you want me dead? I won’t stop you, you know,” Y/n continues to take confident strides towards the 7 men and smirks as she is now only a few feet away, “just know, I’m not going down without a fight.” In an instant, she swings her sword with precision, which gets blocked by Taehyung, the knight that had pledged his loyalty to her years ago when he was only a knight in training. 

Keep reading

[pjmmania]

To Be a Viper - Prologue

Content Warnings: mentions of death, illegal/forced drug use

—————

The twenty-seven-year-old brunette adorned his torso with a grey jacket to match his classic-cut pants. Beneath the jacket was a simple white button-up, with a few buttons left undone near the collar. Everything was freshly pressed and smoothed to perfection, courtesy of the maid.

Standing in front of a full-body mirror, he leaned down and toyed with his hair a bit. He wanted it parted in the middle and mostly out of his face. Past experiences informed him that this was the best way to arrange it when he wanted to attract the opposite sex, and tonight was an important catch.

Suddenly, the young man heard the doorknob twist. It made him stand up straighter, as he knew it was probably his boss. He was one of the few who had a copy of the key to this hotel suite.

Correct in his assumption, his eyes fell upon the man's reflection in the mirror as he entered.

The boss, who also served as an older brother figure to him, was clad in much more casual clothing. He wasn't the one going out on this little mission. It was a solo job.

Crossing his arms over his simple black t-shirt, the boss smirked and cocked a brow, "Ah, you went with the Celine."

The younger went back to fixing his hair in the mirror, "So I did."

"I would have gone with the Louis Vuitton," The boss shrugged, "With the pinstripes. I love a good pinstripe."

Eyes were rolled, but he knew it was a jest, "You asked that I pull out all the stops. Trust me, I've never missed with this one. Women love it.”

The boss hummed and took a seat in the plush brown armchair in the corner of the room. Not quite as comfortable as the ones he owned back home, but this grand hotel had managed to find furniture that compared somewhat. Somewhat.

"You are due to leave soon so I won’t take up much of your time. I came to remind you to be quick," The boss said, "And careful."

He chuckled lowly, "Quick and careful are not words I’d use to describe the average rendezvous between a woman and myself.”

The boss became irate. The situation was extremely delicate, "I'm fucking serious, Taehyung."

"And I'm fucking joking, Jimin," The younger turned around once more to look at his eyes and reassure him, "I'm not an idiot. I know the objective."

"Not the time for joking," Jimin scowled with a tight jaw and intense eyes, "You need to bring her back unharmed, understand me?”

"I won’t harm a hair on her head, hyung," Taehyung put his hands up in defense, "Jesus Christ."

The boss sighed and leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on his quadriceps, "Well excuse me for feeling slightly uncomfortable with sending one of my assassins to go kidnap this one. I swear to God, the only reason I'm sending you is-"

"Because I'm the only face here that our enemies wouldn't recognize, I know. You've made that abundantly clear every time we've talked about this job," Taehyung muttered, "You need to just fucking relax, huh? I got this.”

Jimin didn’t appreciate the cockiness and nonchalance in his subordinate. He knew how Taehyung could be with women. And while he needed him to go out and do the job, the thought of him seducing this particular target left a sour taste. He got up out of the chair and walked up to the suited, arrogant man.

Taehyung took in the leader’s face. His eyes could tear through metal, callous and deadly. Jimin got close to his face, staring him down and speaking lowly, “I have no doubt that you ‘got this’ Taehyung. But let me make another thing abundantly clear to you. This job isn’t a chance for you to get your dick wet. So go, flirt all you want and make her want to leave with you. But if you make your flirtations physical, there will be hell to pay."

Taehyung was silent. This exercise of power wasn’t necessarily new, but the motivation behind it was. He and the others had never seen their leader become so fiercely protective over someone who wasn’t his own. Someone who was, at this point in time, a stranger to them.

The younger knew better than to push back any further. Finally, he dropped the tone, “I understand.”

Jimin nodded once, his searing eye contact unyielding, “Good. Now put on some cologne and head out. Jungkook is waiting for you with the car.”

Taehyung sighed and proceeded to follow instructions.

The boss remained glued to the same spot, hands in his pockets. Watching his junior finish up, he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek, unsettled in his gut.

Over the many years he’d spent in the business, he’d grown numb to it all. The blood, the theft, the torture, the kidnapping. It was all just part of this enormous task that had fallen into his lap years ago. Tonight, however, caused a stir within him. The nonchalance had been drained from his demeanor, replaced by a deep concern.

Before he noticed, Taehyung was at the door of the hotel suite, ready to leave, “Alright, I’m set. Anything else?”

Jimin’s gaze turned the opposite direction, towards the window at the other end of the room. Seoul was on the other side of that glass, aglow in the night. Busy, bustling, alive. The streets filling with people who had clocked out of work a few hours ago, now ready to let everything fall away at some bar or nightclub.

“Jimin?”

The older of the two didn’t move. His mind pondered various responses to Taehyung’s question. As much as he wanted to reiterate his order to be careful, there was no need to go down that road again. He knew all he needed to know.

“No,” Jimin said, “That is all. I’ll meet you back here in the morning.”

The door shut, and the job commenced.

The boss let out a breath he didn’t realize he was withholding, posture falling slightly.

This is really happening, he thought.

What he wanted least in the world was coming to pass - seeing you again.

He tried so hard for so long to avoid this. Bringing you into this mess was to inflict a permanent wound on you that would never heal. Old memories of you flashed in his mind. Some almost brought a smile to his face, only to be tainted by the fact that he was about to erase that version of you forever.

He remembered the day he said goodbye to you unknowingly for the last time. Had he known, he would have held you tighter, longer. He would have told you how much your friendship meant to him. How bright you made his days.

- Eleven years ago -

The cold steel of the locker created goosebumps on his arm as he leaned against it. The final bell of the day had rung and the hallway was flooded with students, some brushing against his other arm by accident in the swarm to exit the building.

Seventeen-year-old Jimin let out a sigh, pushing a few pieces of hair out of his face when he saw this one clique of girls pass by. He knew a few of them crushed on him and, though he'd never admit it, he enjoyed doing small things like that to work them up. One of them was named Hana. She was the one he had his sights on. An adolescent male like him couldn't help it.

Then you appeared and Jimin picked his backpack up from the floor, slinging it over his right shoulder. He also moved himself away from your locker so that you could access it.

"Hey you." You sighed as you used your typical greeting.

"Hey you. What took you so long?" He chided you, "Usually you're the one waiting for me."

You put your bag down with a huff, "Sorry. I had a question for Mrs. Choi after class and apparently so did many others."

Jimin, as per routine, took the opportunity to make fun of you, "Fucking dork, having questions about art history of all things."

You took it on the chin and returned the fire with a smirk, "You're one to talk. You stay after calculus all the time."

You dialed the correct series of numbers to unlock your locker and opened it.

"Advanced calculus." The ham corrected you.

Your eyes rolled as you retrieved your things from your locker and stuffed them into your backpack, "Whatever. The point is, we're both dorks. Just for different things."

Oh how he relished getting under your skin like that. He loved how your face looked when you became flustered. You might have been able to put on a grin, but your eyebrows would remain the tiniest bit serious. Having been your close companion since he was seven and you six, Jimin was an expert on your every expression.

"Hurry up, will you?" He continued pushing your buttons, "I'd like to get home."

You let out an audible sigh this time - another point for Jimin in the game of vexing you, "Then why don't you just leave without me and I'll walk?"

He laughed, "Because your parents would revoke my invitation to dinner with you guys on Sunday night."

You chuckled as you zipped up your backpack, "You know they would never. You're like a son to them. You and your brother. They wouldn't have you guys alone in that giant house while your parents are away for the weekend."

The two of you finally began your walk out of the building and into the parking lot. His car was always tucked away at the back of the lot.

Though your friendship was strong enough for both of you to feel relaxed with silent air between you, there was something you had been meaning to bring up. It was your turn to tease him.

"So," You said with a hint of mischief, "I heard Hana is having a party tomorrow night."

You watched his face change. His lips pursed as he tried not to smile. However, this attempt to appear unbothered was futile.

Your arms brushed together as you nudged him, "You going?"

Jimin shrugged and kept his focus on the way ahead, "I may drop by if I hear it's a good time."

You laughed, "Just go. You know she's only having it because she wants you to fuck her again."

His face went slightly red, causing him to dip his head down and chuckle. Then he lifted his gaze to meet your teasing eyes, "I am not used to you talking like this, Y/N. So vulgar these days. The fuck happened to you?"

"Sorry," You giggled, "No need to be too concerned, though. Despite the words I say, you know I have no actual experience in that department."

You came upon his car at last. Jimin unlocked it, causing the lights to flash twice. As he threw his backpack into the back seat, he said, "Well when you do, feel free to not tell me every detail."

"You're avoiding the topic at hand," You said as you got situated in the passenger seat, "You're going to the party, right?"

"Yes," Jimin let out an exasperated laugh, "Jesus Christ, Y/N. I'm going. Happy?"

You made a face and played with the strap adjusters on your bag, which was resting on your lap, "I mean I'm grossed out at the thought of you and her...doing stuff."

Jimin closed his door and turned on the engine, "You mean me fucking her?"

"Ew, Jiminie!"

"Hey, I'm just using the same term you did."

"Lesson learned.” You huffed.

Jimin smiled. There was that flustered face of yours again. He found it cute and naive as you tried to speak the language of your peers. It just didn't come naturally to you.

He pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to your house, which was conveniently on the same street as his. You both lived in a beautiful, gated community, home to the most illustrious families in Seoul. You moved in when you were just a small child. Jimin and his brother were the only other kids around, so naturally your families became close. You'd grown up together, gone to the same private schools, and hung out in the same social circles. To an outside eye, you appeared inseparable.

Did it deter some prospects away from both of you when it came to matters of the heart? Undeniably, yes. But it wasn't enough to force you to give up on your friendship. After all, girls seemed to be all over Jimin despite his closeness to you.

The car ride was filled with more banter, some gossip, and discussion of weekend plans. He was hanging out with his guy friends that night and going to Hana's party the next.

As always, the time passed quickly and he was pulling up your driveway before you realized.

You got out of the car, throwing your backpack over one shoulder, "Alright, I'll see you Sunday, I assume."

"Wait, you're not going to Hana's tomorrow?"

You smirked, "I'd rather not witness your flirtations."

"Oh come on," He tilted his head and grinned cheekily, "Her house is enormous. You wouldn't have to see me at all. It will be fun."

You considered it and decided maybe it could be fun. If it was bound to turn into a big party, then all of your other friends would be there too.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I guess I’ll go. We are Ubering, though. I’m not being your designated driver this time.”

You had turned sixteen a few months back and your parents were beginning to trust you with drinking with friends. They weren’t thrilled, as you were technically still underage, but they knew the culture and accepted it in certain circumstances. As long as you abided by your curfew and didn’t get into trouble, it was fine.

Jimin smiled at you with both eyes and lips, "I knew you'd come around. See you tomorrow."

"Bye Jiminie." You closed the passenger door and waved.

Then he reversed the vehicle out of your long black driveway. By the time he drove away in the direction of his own home, you had already turned your back to him.

__________

That was it, the last time he saw you. It was an unceremonious end to a treasured, deep friendship. The following day, the Park Family moved away. Over the following weeks, both of your lives turned upside down, but in very different ways.

That kind of light had evaded his life since you parted over a decade prior. Sure, he had made deep bonds with the men who worked for him. They were his brothers - he would and had killed for them. Still, nothing compared to the companionship he had with you. It was so innocent and sweet, a reminder that he used to exist in the world unplagued by this madness.

Jimin turned around to face the mirror. The man who reflected back was radically different from the boy who grew up with that sweet, vivacious girl. His face was sharper and his eyes darker, carrying a sinister look about them that struck fear into those who dared to cross him. His hair was an ashy blonde color, a consequence of having to change his appearance from time to time. In this business, that was par for the course.

Taehyung's suite included a kitchenette. Jimin went over to the little bar area and swooped up a fifth of whiskey. He gulped twice before twisting the cap back on and setting it down. He would return to his own suite and wait for the notification of your arrival.

"Why are we doing shots of whiskey?" you whined, "I hate whiskey."

Your elder cousin, Aera, snickered as she practically forced the full shot glass into your hand, "Because we're fucking celebrating!"

Your other cousin and Aera's twin brother, Eoduun, joined in the silliness by raising his glass in the middle for a toast, "To our Y/N, who is finally back in Seoul after three long years abroad. Studying paintings and shit in Europe."

"Being an art curator." You corrected with a shake of your head, though you couldn't help but laugh.

Eoduun paid no mind and went on, "May this night remind her of all the good things about Seoul and convince her to move back."

You put your hand over your eyes and kept shaking your head as the three of you clinked your small glasses together. When it came time to down the dark liquor, you braced yourself and made it quick.

You winced when it passed your tongue, "Damn that's awful. If anything, don't you think soju would be more appropriate after not being in Seoul for so long?"

Aera played with your hair a bit, "Look around you, Y/N. This is the nicest, most exclusive nightclub in the city. No one wants soju here. They come here for something different than the everyday."

Observing your surroundings, you saw that she was right. No one had bottles of soju at their tables. It was all expensive champagne and top-shelf liquors. People were loud and dressed to the nines, some sitting at quilted red velvet booths and others standing at the various bars and pool tables. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone clad in non-designer clothing.

As for you, a black sleeveless mock-neck top underneath a beige Ralph Lauren blazer did the trick. You paired it with a black mini-skirt and the signature red-bottom pumps. A habit you picked up in Europe was dressing in the classics. Stick to that, and one can never appear out of style.

“Anyway,” Eoduun leaned forward across the table, his glossy black hair reflecting the blue and purple lighting above, “Are you here to stay?”

You pursed your lips together. It was endearing that they clearly wanted you to move back home - only it didn’t feel like home for you anymore. Not since you lost your parents. Their deaths left you feeling untethered to this city, regardless of the fact that your Uncle Yohan and cousins still resided within its bounds,

“I don’t know,” you fibbed, “Maybe. I do really enjoy Europe.”

Aera hummed, “The museums, the statues, the elegance, the old money.”

“Which is funny, because you come from some of the oldest money in this country.” Eoduun added.

Thankfully, the twins dropped the subject after that. It was obviously making you squirm, and tonight was about having fun.

The drinks began flowing steadier. You danced, laughed your heart out, and reminisced on old times. The latter occurred when you were sitting in your booth, significantly less sober than when you arrived.

The stillness of sitting down gave your mind the bandwidth to wander to all sorts of things about your past. A dangerous game for you, as it always led you to what you hated remembering the most - or rather, who.

The Park boy who disappeared abruptly all those years ago. The friend who was ripped out of your life without so much as a proper goodbye or warning. It left a scar deep inside you that you never wanted to graze. Yet every now and then, in drunken moments like these, his beaming face would flash across your mind. Maybe he and his family moved away, or maybe he was dead. You had no idea.

You learned over the years not to verbalize his memory. If you didn’t bring it up, it would fade away faster and the feeling inside you would pass.

It helped that Aera was a chatty individual, always having something else to talk about. With a slurred vocabulary, she began asking you about the lack of sunshine in London or something like that. It was unclear to you, because right at that moment, you caught the eye of some stranger standing at the bar.

Perfect timing, you thought. An even better distraction had come along to save you.

He was in a beautiful grey suit, peering at you with eyes unlike any you’d ever seen. His face was otherworldly, and when he smiled? Oh, that smug little grin was more attractive than you would have preferred to admit.

Your cousins noticed you staring.

“Y/N’s got a little heartthrob over there.” Eoduun remarked.

“Go talk to him!” Aera encouraged with an obnoxious giggle, “He’s hot!”

“No,” her brother protested, “This is a family outing.”

“Oh let her live!” She returned.

“Yeah, Eoduun,” you smirked back at him, “Let me live. Then maybe you can go strike up a conversation with that girl in the sequin dress you’ve been gawking at all night.”

“Not interested, actually,” he said in between sips of his scotch, “Something about the way she carries herself that I don’t like.”

“What high standards,” the other twin rolled her eyes and then turned her focus to you, “Go talk to him. Just text us if you plan on leaving with him.”

You smiled and gave her a familial kiss on her cheek as a means of thanking her.

That gorgeous man watched you rise from your seat and maintained his grin. You subtly adjusted your skirt as you approached him, hoping your gait didn’t appear too intoxicated and trying not to stumble in your heels.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked you. His elbow rested in the bar top, while his other hand was occupied with something on the rocks.

You played with your handbag a bit, “That’s funny. I saw you staring at me and came over to ask you the same thing.”

He chuckled, “Taehyung.”

“Y/N.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you in jest,“You haven’t answered my question, Y/N.”

You laughed and further closed the gap between the two of you, “You can get me a drink, as a matter of fact.”

“I’d be much obliged.” He nodded, setting his own drink down on the counter. He then shifted his body to make room for you to come stand next to him, “What will you have?”

You had been consuming mostly gin-based cocktails the whole night. You thought it better to stick with that and requested a dirty martini. Taehyung ordered it for you.

As the bartender began the creation of your next beverage, you continued to chat, “A nice suit, Taehyung. What is it, Celine?”

The handsome man raised his brows and chuckled, tilting his glass toward you, “Very good. You have an eye for fashion, clearly.”

You noticed his gaze scanning your own attire and detected a hint of lust behind it.

Taehyung remarked, “I’m afraid I can’t name the designer, but I do find it ravishing.”

You giggled as the bartender handed you the martini, “Ravishing? What an old-fashioned word.”

“You strike me as someone who likes the classics,” he shrugged, “Besides, I’m a gentleman, Y/N. I would never dream of offending a woman with lower terms…Unless she wanted me to.”

That did it. Your cheeks felt warm with infatuation. You tried to mask the smile that was begging to appear from your glossed lips. Still, you had to play the game if you wanted this to keep going.

Successfully you reeled in the giddiness and replaced it with a relaxed, confident smile. You simply clinked your glass with his as a reply. This caused your newfound companion to bite his bottom lip ever so slightly in a smirk.

The two of you continued to talk over the next hour. You learned he was raised in Geochang and had a job in some marketing firm in the city. When asked the same question, you told him that you were born and raised in Seoul, having recently returned from a stint abroad curating art. He seemed to find that fascinating and asked for more information about your favorite pieces and whatnot.

He would touch your hips occasionally, increasing your want. You wondered when he would lean in for the kiss or take you out onto the floor to dance. However, it was unbeknownst to you that he had been given strict orders not to cross that line.

His boss failed to mention that adhering to this guideline might be challenging. He said nothing about you having a wit or your seduction tactics. This job was proving to be a test of Taehyung's restraint.

Eventually, you saw Aera and Eoduun leave their booth and hit the dance floor, no longer paying mind to this interaction.

It was while you were looking away to locate them that Taehyung made the killing blow.

He propped his elbow up on the bar to appear casual to any wandering eyes. When the coast seemed to be clear, he lowered his hand as if to lay it on the surface of the counter. During this millisecond, he dropped the small substance into your drink.

You turned back to face him a few seconds later, none the wiser.

As you took another sip of your drink, the man texted on his phone briefly and discreetly. You enjoyed how suave he looked doing even the most basic things.

As the flirtations went on, Taehyung observed you doom yourself sip after sip. He knew that time was running out, so he leaned into you and said directly in your ear, "It's getting a little rowdy in here, huh?"

You put on a charming smile and leaned right back into him, touching his upper arm with your free hand, "I couldn't agree more."

You were so close that you could feel his exhale on your nose. He said lowly, "Would you like to go back to my place? I have some art you can critique."

You laughed, and then nodded, "I'd love to."

As he led you toward the exit of the club, you remembered to shoot Aera and Eoduun a text. Doing so proved a bit difficult - your vision was getting a little fuzzy. You chalked it up to having one too many drinks and nothing more.

Your escort noticed that you had looped your arm in his. You played it off as a cute little gesture, but the reality was that you needed the support to walk in a straight line. Taehyung knew the signs of the drug taking effect, and this was certainly one of them.

He sped things along, hoping to find his colleague waiting for them on the curb as planned.

By the time the two of you reached the doors, the black Range Rover with tinted windows was parked and ready to go.

"Here we are." The man in the grey suit grinned.

You were now in considerably worse shape and asked, "Did you...did you call us an Uber?"

"Of course I did," Taehyung played it cool and put his arm around you to offer more support without drawing too much attention, "Luckily he was in the area and could get here in a minute."

"Oh. That's convenient."

When he opened the door to the backseat, he made immediate eye contact with the driver, Jungkook. You were too busy stepping up into the vehicle to notice the two of them nodding at one another.

Your new acquaintance climbed in after you and shut the door.

The driver played the part well and asked, "How are you both doing tonight?"

You could see his round, curious eyes in the rearview mirror. While Taehyung shot him a glare, you replied, "Great, though a little drunk."

Jungkook chuckled as he put the car into gear. He got a kick out of playing with people like this, especially when his boss wasn’t around to chide him for it.

The Range Rover rolled back into the correct lane and began the short drive to Josun Palace, the most opulent hotel in the city.

In the backseat, you started to lean your head on Taehyung’s shoulder. You had slipped into the blackout territory.

The man sitting next to you told the driver, “Hurry up, will you? I think she needs to get to bed.”

Jungkook glanced back at you in the rearview mirror. He had to reach their destination with haste, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to walk yourself up to the suite and draw attention.

A couple minutes later, they arrived. Jungkook parked the car and together they whisked you out and hurried you inside. You were too far gone to even notice that you weren’t at Taehyung’s apartment, but at a hotel.

You were muttering things they couldn’t understand, vision extremely distorted. Your legs felt like they were barely attached to you. The only thing that really registered with your system was the change in lighting, from a night sky to artificial brightness.

The two men moved with urgency, yet hid it by acting all happy. They made it look as if the three of you were hammered, laughing and talking. This diminished any concerns others might have had for you. You were simply a group of intoxicated young people, not a kidnapping in-action.

The journey up to the top floors felt like ten hours to you. When the elevator let out onto the correct floor, you were in the final stages, ready to pass out at any moment.

The two abductors moved swiftly, Taehyung pulling out his room key.

Their boss was waiting for them inside, sitting in a lounge. The room was dimly lit, curtains shut.

Park Jimin had seen many disturbing things in this life. He’d seen bloodshed, gore, unimaginable horrors. Things that seemed impossible to make amends with and yet he had. The sight before him now, of you, eyes halfway closed being held up by his men, was another matter. It twisted his guts.

You looked so pathetic, so weak. Your body was almost entirely limp, head hanging low.

The boss’s jaw clenched as he swallowed, "Well done, both of you."

Taehyung scoffed, "I did most of the work."

Jimin glared at him, "Shut the fuck up and get her on the bed."

They followed his order, one scooping you up by the knees and the other by your shoulders. You were hoisted onto the bed, now fully unconscious.

The leader approached you with a caution that left his subordinates confused. He was slow and silent, observing your faltered body. His face showed resolve, but his body language showed regret. He wished for years that this would never have to happen, and it had come to pass.

Jungkook asked with hesitation, "Are we...Are we good?"

Jimin looked at them and nodded once, "Yes. However, I've decided to stay here with her. Tae, get your stuff. You may sleep in my suite instead."

Within a few minutes, the pair left. The boss pulled a chair up next to the bed and began his watch over you. The drug would likely induce some unfavorable side effects and he was best positioned to care for you if and when they appeared.

He turned off all other lights in the suite, save one lamp on the nightstand between you and him. It provided enough lighting for him to study your face. Your features were completely relaxed, some of your eye makeup smudged, lips slightly parted.

It was still close to unfathomable that he was really looking at you, after all the years. Jimin had taken you back into his life by force, and a few hours prior, it felt terrible. But now that you were here in his sights, there was a twinge of happiness in his hardened heart.

For the rest of the night, Jimin sat in that chair, occasionally dozing off and waking himself back to a state of alert. Waiting for you to wake up, and wondering what would happen when you did.

[staytinyville]

Daechwita (Burn It Pt. 2)

↣ Summary: You were only a decoy for all those who wanted your family off the throne. The real leader was your horrible sister who ruled with fear in their subjects. You only did what was told of you and if others came to assassinate you then so be it. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader, Slight Jungkook x Reader,

↣ Genre: Historical, Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: Historical!au, Queen!Reader, Rebel!Yoongi, 

↣ Word Count: 6.1k

↣ Warnings: Abuse, Toxic household, 

↣ A/N: This turned into a four part miniseries. I swear I can’t stick to anything bro. I still need to finish the other series. I swear I’m still on them. I just haven't gotten the energy to sit down and write full chapters. All I got is the conversations. 

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

“Hello, Jeongguk.” You smiled when the man bowed his head as he entered your room. 

You weren’t someone who took concubines in for the hell of it. You didn’t like to use people in that manner and especially not taking them from their home against their will. However with the way your parents saw themselves and wished to present the way you looked to the public they made you take the boy in. Even if you didn’t look for his company the same way your family looked at their concubines he was still forced to be at the palace. 

“Hello, your grace.” The boy gave you a large smile, his lips pulling over his teeth. 

“Such a lovely boy.” You cooed, squishing his cheeks together. 

He whined, trying to pull back from your ministrations but ultimately giggled at your doting nature. You had grown to love him. He was someone who looked at you with bright eyes and made you want to continue on going for his sake. It was you between him and the others who saved them from your family's wraths. You were the only one who truly cared about them. 

“How are the others?” You asked, giving him a smile. 

“They've been okay. Princess Munhee hasn't called for them. She's been too busy with some other men to pay them any mind. They are more than happy about that.” Jungkook explained. 

You sighed deeply, shaking your head. “I surely hope she doesn't gather more concubines.” 

Turning back to him, you gave him a kind smile, making him flush. “I've asked for you because I would like some information.” 

“Anything for you.” He quickly spoke. 

“There is a rebellion going on that plans on taking the throne from me.” You told him. 

“That can't be right—”

“Jeongguk.” You interrupted softly. “I want you to be honest with me.” 

You looked down, feeling upset over how you had asked something of him. “I know I took you from your home and brought you to this terrible life—”

“I wanted to come with you.” He stopped you, before you could continue. “You gave me the choice to come here–unlike Taehyung and Jimin.”

It had been an expedition your family had been taking when you came across all of them. Jungkook and Jimin were from one village and Taehyung from another. The expedition was meant to strengthen the royal family's ties to everyone in the kingdom. Showcase to everyone who would watch that they were proper rulers. 

All a lie it was for the people. Blindly following false words of kindness. Especially the families of the concubines. 

Jimin and Taehyung had been bought from their families. Munhee wanted the both of them the moment she laid eyes on each. Giving their families a hefty sum of money for each of the boys who didn't want to go with them. You remember those days clearly. If only because it was you who had gone to the families to ask for them as your own concubines. 

It made you cry on those nights. The way the two boys would look at you when they were placed in the hands of Munhee the first night. There was so much hatred in them–each bruise that was marred on their skin that you could see. It made you sick to your stomach to know that it wasn’t just you anymore who was left under the tyranny of your family. 

You tried your best to keep them from getting hurt–caring for their wounds and making sure they were well taken care of behind your sister’s back but there was only so much you could do. 

“They must hate me—”

“They could never!” Jungkook stopped you. “Maybe in the beginning but they know the real you now. The one who takes care of them after the princess was too rough.”

“They love you so much. I love you. I will do everything you ask of me.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, feeling like there was something grabbing a hold of it only to crush it. It was but a moment that you were brought back to the night Agust was going to kill you. The time when you wanted him to drag the knife along your neck. 

But yet here was this man who claims to love you enough to do anything you ask of him. You had never seen any of the concubines as more than just those you cared about. It wasn’t in your nature to fall in love with someone because of the life you used to live. 

Now you knew though, no matter what you had to stay to make sure these boys and the people would never fall into the hands of your family. Who would be there to save them if it wasn’t you?

“I don't need you to, Jeongguk.” You smiled softly. “I just need you to look like my pretty boy.”

“You asked me about the rebellion. Did something happen?” He asked with worry, his eyebrows pinching together. 

“Nothing that should worry you.” You told him. “However I do want to ask about a man who I believe might be part of it. I don't know his name but I have seen him before. He has a scar running down his right eye. He's young though, with long blonde hair. Namjoon told me you might know his name.”

“You must be talking about Min Yoongi. He goes by the name August so no one could find out his identity.” He easily answered you, no hesitation within his voice. 

“I see.” You mumbled to yourself. 

“Thank you Jeongguk.” You pulled his cheek so that you could lean in to give him a kiss. “You mean so much to me–all of you do.”

“You're our queen. We will make sure no harm comes to you.” The boy bowed his head, a bright flush along his cheeks that made you smile. 

After he left you alone, you began to scheme about how to start with your plans. The first task was getting that guard to understand you were on his side. As well, he was going about things all wrong. You had a kingdom to save and people to command. For once you were finally going to be the real queen you were meant to be. 

And the starting point was having Min Yoongi join the court. 

“Min Yoongi.” You spoke to yourself. 

**

“You're grace.” Yoongi bowed his head, turning to watch as the eunuch closes your study door. 

Once he is out of earshot, Yoongi relaxes his shoulders, striding over to the desk you were kneeling next to. 

“Good.” You spoke up, looking at him. “I would like to speak to you about something.” 

“I have decided to add another guard to my personnel. I wanted to know if you knew of anyone who was capable.” You spoke, looking over some documents.

It felt odd to finally start looking into the things the council shares with you without your father quickly taking them from your hold to do himself. However you took it upon yourself to do it all in secret. Helping the kingdom to thrive and send money where it needs to go. Go over trials that needed attention which you knew were going to easily go unpunished. 

It made you understand more just how much corruption was truly within the palace. And you first wanted to start with getting rid of your family before moving on to the council members on your father’s roster. 

“I might know some people.” He told you, making you nod. 

Your eyes moved along his face out of instinct, trying to find anything that might be wrong with him. There wasn’t any injury that you could see over his clothes–his scar was still the only thing that stared back at you. When you realized you had spent too much time looking over him, you cleared your throat and looked away. 

“How has my sister been treating you? You asked. 

“Like I'm not there–which I am grateful for.” He shrugged. “She is very—”

“Sinister. Evil. A tyrant.” You prattled off out of habit, rolling your eyes. “We all know.”

You didn’t really give him any reason to think about what you could’ve been like before he had entered your life. As far as he knew, you were only an emotionless doll that seemed to allow her family to speak over her at certain events. 

But he couldn’t help but be curious over who you were before he had tried to kill you. You were still you–it was clear in the way he would see you care for the other people within the palace court. You didn’t get upset when they would cower before you, trying to get away as fast as possible. So far the only ones who didn’t try to run from you were the concubines who claimed to be in love with you. 

The way you spoke though made him think that you weren’t someone who allowed others to walk all over them. You knew how to work people–how to get them to listen to you without having to cause fear in their hearts. It left him baffled to know that you were someone who waited for death with open arms. 

“Do you ever get tired? Of having to put up with them?” He asked. 

“That's why you're here isn't it?” You answered. 

“I thought the only way to escape their hands was by death. It was inevitable because I knew about the rebellion—even they knew. That's why I'm just the decoy for their schemes.” Your voice was soft, reminding Yoongi of your first meeting. 

“And the day you die though? They won't have that chance anymore.” He told you.

“They won't but that wouldn't be my issue now would it.” You smiled softly. 

Yoongi’s lips turned downward as your eyes took on something familiar to him. It left an ache in his chest making him feel uncomfortable with the way you looked at him. He couldn’t stand to see that kind of look pass behind your soul. It reminded him of his own ways that he was too scared to let go of. A reminder of his own feelings of hoping for a swift ending to his story. 

“So you'd rather leave your people in the hands of demons?” He frowned. 

“Don't they see me as a demon as well?” You asked him. “There are only two other people who know the truth about my position and you're one of them.”

“But the other staff? Don't they see your family beating you?” He wondered out loud.

“They just assume I'm a tyrant because I am treated poorly by my family. Lots of things are easier when you allow people to believe what they want.” You spoke calmly.

You had ideas brewing in your head. Ideas that you wanted to put into action. Yoongi knew that the moment you looked at him without emotions as you found him standing in line with the other warriors waiting to be chosen as a new royal guard. It seemed in the months he had been training to get the chance to stand in the palace courtyard you had changed your mind over the idea of death. 

It wasn’t something hard to do, but Yoongi did want to know why you chose to change things after almost being assassinated. 

“So why change now?” He questioned. 

“Because I thought about the people I'd leave behind without so much as a word. I'm not ready to give up yet. I learned that thanks to you.” 

Your words left him even more confused but he didn’t dare to question you further. “If you want me to put another knife to your throat for a new idea don't be afraid to ask.”

You had kept him in your study for a bit longer, pouring a drink for the both of you as you got to know your new companion. It had been a few weeks since he started to work with the others and you didn’t really got the chance to know how he worked. You figured it was best to know the person who was going to help kill your family. 

“Your name? Agust, what does it mean?” You asked him.

“I am from Daegu. It's a name I used to have backwards.” He waved you off, not giving him more about the life he lived before coming to the capital. 

“That's interesting.” You hummed, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

“What about you? Where do you get your personality from, if not your parents?”

His question made you look up with wide eyes, pressing your lips together as the alcohol in your system seemed to make you buzz. It wasn’t that you had a lot to drink, you only took a few sips every couple of minutes while he had already drowned three cups of soju. You weren’t going to be challenging him to a drink contest anytime soon. 

“I was taken care of by a nanny.” You answered. “I never really got the chance to be with my parents because they were too busy with Munhee. I was the smallest of us so naturally I was the weakest–at least in their eyes.”

For the past hour he had watched you make faces to yourself, acting like a child who was having an internal monologue. There were questions he knew you wanted to ask him but you would stop yourself for fear of overstepping. He saw you let go of your emotionless facade and take on the one he knew you hardly got the chance to show others. 

He wondered who your real friends were when you were an actual child. He knew your guard had been there for you for years from what Namjoon had told him. If he got the chance to see you act this way in private. It left a stale taste in his mouth to know that you have suppressed this part of you so much that you had to be inebriated in order to feel relaxed enough to show the wonder/curious part of you. 

“Being kind and gentle doesn't mean being weak.” He told you.

You looked up from under your lashes, catching his stare on your face. “It doesn't. Between Munhee and I though, I do believe I got the best brain.” You sat up straight with a smile on your face as you thought about yourself. 

“Let's hope your plans work out then.” Yoongi smirked. 

“If it doesn't, I hope you can continue.” You told him, making him frown. 

You might have been buzzed but there were parts that would go back to thinking about the present. You weren’t out of it completely but when Yoongi was able to catch you off guard he was able to see into the real you. So to hear you speak so depressing over something like this it made him want to bring back the person you were. 

“I promise nothing will happen to you.” He said without thinking. 

You completely froze, slowly looking up at him with wide eyes that seemed to almost have tears in them. You mouth fell open just a bit as you tried to keep from making your lips tremble. 

“Why make that promise?” You spoke softly. 

“Because there are people who care about you. Ones who want to see you rule the kingdom correctly.” He explained quickly. 

“You hardly know me.” You scoffed. “How do you know I'd do the right thing?”

“I’m expecting you to give me a reason.”

**

“This is Hoseok, your grace.” The man in question bowed his head and had a stiff smile on his face as he watched you look around the home. 

It was a typical home found throughout the capital, one that was meant for someone of noble status. Yoongi had told you and Namjoon on the way to his home that he shared it with two other men–one of which was going to be your new guard alongside Namjoon. 

WHen you finally turned to look at the man, you noticed how tense he was. The smile was forced, you realized, but a smile nonetheless. You gave him a kind on back, clasping your hands together as you were taught. Even if you weren’t properly trained to be queen you were trained in how to act like one. 

“I would hope Agust has told you how things are.” You immediately got to the point, seeing as you didn’t want to go through the process of waiting to explain things. 

The quicker the better.

“For the most part. Why do you want a member of the resilience to be your personal guard?” He asked, frowning his eyebrows. 

“Same reason you're in the resilience. I have people to get rid of.” You spoke out loud, causing him to furrow his eyebrows together. 

He tried not to turn his nose up, glare on his face that intimidated you just a bit. “You're willing to bloody your hands?”

“It's better than having them bruised.” Your voice was soft, causing him to suck in a quiet breath as he got caught in the look that passed behind your eyes. 

He glanced over to Yoongi who sighed deeply as he nodded his head slowly. 

“Your majesty?” A voice spoke up behind Hoseok as some people came out from the home. 

Taehyung looked at you with curious eyes, while Jimin held onto his arm to help him down the home’s patio. Jungkook softly shuffled behind a taller man who was watching with a confused look as the queen stood in his yard. 

“Boys? What are you all doing here? I thought I had sent you all to a physician?” You questioned, shoving past Hoseok who brought his arms in to keep from touching you.

The action made him even more confused as he looked over at Yoongi once more. Yoongi only chuckled, walking behind you to reach the concubines who had walked out with a broad shoulder man. Namjoon calmly walked closer to the younger boys, eyes scanning them for any signs of injuries as he usually did. 

“The doctor we go to is here.” Jimin spoke up, bowing his head when he made eye contact with you.

“Who?” You asked, looking over at the other man. 

“My name is Seokjin. It's nice to meet you, your majesty.” He bowed his head pursing his lips as he took in the guard that seemed to fuss over the boys. 

“Jeongguk told us to come here. He says Jin Hyung is a great doctor.” Taehyung answered, giving you a stunning smile as his hand rubbed at his ribs.

“Why thank you Jungkookie.” Seokjin cooed, pinching the younger boy's cheeks. 

“I'm glad to know you were all taken care of.” You smiled, bowing your head in thanks to the doctor. 

His eyes went wide as he stood up straight from seeing you smile at him and give him a compliment. 

“Right, wouldn't want the queen's concubines to be hurt.” He said stiffly. 

He suddenly sighed, looking between you and Taehyung with anxiousness. “I get they are yours to do as you please but I ask that you are careful with them for a bit—”

“We aren't her majesty's concubines.” Taehying stopped the doctor without manners. “It was Princess Munhee who broke my ribs.”

“She broke your ribs!?” You shouted, mouth falling open as the others flinched from your shout. “I just thought it was a normal bruise! Taehyung, why didn't you tell me how bad it actually was!?” You fussed, hands quickly pressing the boy's cheeks between your palms. 

Taehyung began to pout, his lips protruding out but he still basked in the attention you were giving him. 

“Jimin!?” You whined, turning to the round faced boy who gave you a soft look. 

“We didn't want to worry you.” He spoke softly as always. 

“Nonsense! You live in my home! You are mine to take care of.” You demanded, looking back over at Taehyung who looked at you with wide eyes. 

“We're yours?” Jungkook whispered, a blush settling on his face as he grew closer to you. 

You began to stutter, looking between all of the seven boys waiting for an answer from you. “Well, you live in my palace. I have to take care of you.”

“You don't–you just choose to.” Jimin sighed, quickly stepping in so as to not let the others hope for anything. 

“Come on, we'll see you at home.” He told you, nodding his head in a bow. 

Your eyebrows pinched together as you felt a pang in your chest over Jimin’s dismissive behavior. As he carefully moved Taehyung with the help of Jungkook, you shuffled your feet to follow after them but Namjoon spoke up. 

“We should get going as well. Don't stay for too long, Agust.” Namjoon spoke up, holding his arm out for you to take. 

“What is the queen up to? Asking us to be guards in the royal palace.” Hoseok sneered, glaring at the retreating figures of the royal court. 

“I would assume it's nothing good.” Jin sighed, worried about the concubines and their injuries. 

“Not for the queen.” Yoongi spoke up, turning to look at them. “I'm still going to finish my mission.”

“Are you sure about this?” Hobi asked. 

“I'm more positive now than I ever was.” Yoongi nodded his head. 

“Those men really care for her. I've never seen any concubines who are in love with their masters.” Jin explained, remembering about the conversations he had with all three of them over how you had sent them to see the doctors. 

It was Jungkook who had walked into his home asking for help for a fellow concubine. Teahyung was shuffling slowly with a hand on his ribs as he was being carried by Jimin. Jin had never had to treat Jungkook for injuries to the extent Taehyung had. Before they had begun to explain themselves he assumed Jungkook was just the favorite and hardly ever injured. 

But Taehyung had gone on and on over how you had fussed over the large bruise that was forming under his chest. Jungkook followed along with him, nodding and adding in his own statements over how kind the queen was. Jimin stayed quiet a majority of the time only making small comments about how (Y/N) was special to them all. 

“Things are not as they seem. That's what I'm coming to learn. I'll catch up with you later, Hobi.”

**

“Mother is sick. Surprised she hasn't died yet. She's so old. We'll see how she goes later.” Munhee talks to herself in front of her vanity mirror, you keeping her company because she had called for your audience. 

She has yet to get to the point but you stood off to the side, trying not to show any emotions as she continued on with her nighttime routine. However when she mentioned your mother, your shoulder straightened up, attention on her. 

“Does she need a physician?” You asked. 

“I don't know.” Munhee scoffed, waving you off. “I don't wanna get sick with whatever she has so I haven't even gone into that side of the palace.” 

“Where is that stupid maid? (Y/N) I need you to do my hair.” She demanded, slamming her hairbrush onto the table. 

You walked closer to her, taking the brush softly before combing through her long hair. Your lips twitched at how you wanted to pull on her scalp but you prevent yourself from doing that by thinking about your sickly mother. 

“I'll call for one.” You prattled off, talking about getting a doctor for your mother. 

“As if you know anyone.” Munhee rolled her eyes, picking at her nails. 

“I'm sure Namjoon must. I'll ask him.”

“That reminds me.” She turned in your hold, causing you to let go of her. “I want Namjoon to be my guard. I can't stand to look at that creature. If you picked him you can have him.”

Your eyes suddenly went wide, hands dropping to your sides. Namjoon had been there for you since before you were even queen. He was your one friend through your entire existence that didn't take your kindness for granted but rather appreciate who you were as a person. He was your person–the one who kept you from ending your own life. 

You couldn’t possibly give him up.

“I don't think Namjoon would—”

“I don't care what he thinks. I want him as my guard. You will do as I say or there will be consequences.” She threatened, coming to tower over you. 

“Of course.” You nodded your head, looking down from her eyes. 

“Leave.”

You fast walked to the door, your nose twitching in irritation as you slammed the door open. Yoongi and Namjoon flinched as they waited for you to exit your sister's bedroom to take you back to your own. You couldn’t dare to look at Namjoon too angry with your sister to think about letting him. Tears pooled in your eyes as you thought about it. 

“What happened?” Namjoon asked, seeing your upset state. 

“Munhee wants you to be her guard.” You spat out. 

“What? But I can't—” Namjoon shook his head. 

“It's what she wants.” You turned to Yoongi, not wanting to think about Namjoon anymore then you had to less you wanted to cry. 

“Mother is sick–she needs a physician.” You told Yoongi. 

“I'll call for one—” Namjoon tried to reach out to you, but you pulled away from him.

“No. I'll do it.” You shook your head. 

Namjoon looked up at Yoongi, wanting to know what to do. He only shrugged, not getting what was going on. But Namjoon knew you better than anyone. He knew that you didn’t want to look at him for fear of breaking down. He was upset with the whole ordeal but he knew that if you wanted to finish what you started you should do as they ask to keep from raising suspicions. 

However that didn’t mean he was pleased with having to move from being your guard. 

**

“You want me to kill her? But that's—” Jin shook his head, sputtering. 

“What the rebellion wanted to do.” You told him. “So long as the royal family stands this kingdom will never be free. We will start with the easier ones first. Do what you must.”

With Jin sighing, you turned to take your leave.

“Are you sure you're fit to rule? Seems like you're rushing into this.” Yoongi spoke up, trying to keep up with you. 

“You have no idea of what I had to suffer at the hands of those people.” You told him over your shoulder. 

“I've lived in the kingdom my whole life. I know what it's like.” When you heard him stop, you turned to see what was keeping him. 

“Not when they are meant to be your blood.” You swallowed thickly. 

“Family doesn't always mean blood. I've come to learn that.” He told you.

You could imagine he was talking about Hoseok and Seokjin. You didn’t know the full extent of how close Jungkook was to all of them but you knew he cared enough for Jin to take care of them. But still it was nothing compared to what you have. 

“I want that. A family who will be there.” You told him. 

“Isn't Namjoon always there? The concubines?” He asked. 

“I took them from the lives they should've had.” You shook your head, looking down. 

“You didn't have a choice. They've each told me the stories of how they got to the palace. How you took them in when Munhee forced them to come with her. They care about you.” He grew closer to you.

“I don't deserve it.” You shook your head. 

“It wasn't your fault. You were a victim too.” He spoke quietly, catching your attention. 

“Why change your mind now?” You asked, looking up at him. 

You felt his body brushing against your hanbok, your fingers twitching at the fabric as you had to hold onto it. Your body began to sway, a cloud falling over your head from how close he was to you. 

“I've been here long enough to notice those kinds of things. I'll do whatever you need me to do.” He spoke up, catching you off guard. 

“I don't need you to.” You told him, swallowing thickly. 

“You can't tell me the same thing you always tell others.” He spoke against your lips, causing you to flinch just a bit. 

“We have the same enemy. That's all that matters.” 

**

“I've given her some tea for now. What you should do is hope for the best. I'll gather some herbs to help heal her from within.” Jin told you as he stood up from looking over your mother. 

“Where did you say you found this doctor again, (Y/N)?” Your mother asked, finally turning her eyes away from Jin. 

“He's the one who heals Munhee's concubines. If he can make it seem like none of them have broken ribs I'm sure he can do wonders.” You spoke up nonchalantly. 

“Yoongi, please escort him out.” You told the guard. 

The two men bowed their heads, turning to take their leave. As they walked out, you couldn’t help but catch the way your mother eyed Jin’s back with hunger. 

“I want him in the concubine quarters.” Your mother spoke up as the door finally closed. 

You looked at her appalled, lips turning up. “He's a physician for the town though—”

“I don't care. I want him here—with me.” She demanded, enunciating her words. 

You sighed deeply, jaw clenching. “Of course, mother.”

Once more Yoongi flinched as you slammed the door open. His shoulders dropped as he sighed from the way you were seething. Whatever had transpired between you and your mother had you angry like the time Munhee had asked you to give her Namjoon. 

“What are you giving her and how long will it take?” You demanded. 

Jin raised his brows, looking down at your angry expression. “A few days. The poison is slow acting but with her sickness it will be quicker.” He explained.

“Could I do that to the others?” You asked. 

“I don't have much of the tea. But I can see if I can get you more.” He answered. 

Your shoulders dropped as you realized the meant he would have to leave the palace. Sadly he no longer had that choice. It made you want to cry once more over how you were going to break it to him. 

“You won't be able to. I'm sorry, Seokjin.” The tension that had been clear in your shoulder seemed to go away as you apologized to the older man. 

“For what?” He asked. 

“My mother—she wants you to be one of her concubines.” You spoke looking down at the ground, tears welling in your eyes. 

Yoongi was quick to notice your tone of voice before he grew closer to you, shielding you away from Jin’s eyes. 

“Does everyone have concubines here except you? Disgusting, really.” Jin sneered, lips turned up. 

Yoongi made you look at him, fingers toying with your own. “We'll find other ways. Don't worry.”

**

You were woken up by a body suddenly crushing you in your sleep. You thrashed around for a moment before whoever was on top of you placed a knife to your neck. You began to gasp, trying to move your hands to claw at your attacker but they were ahead of you. They held you in their grasp tightly, ready to kill you at a moment’s notice.

It didn’t feel the same. It felt wrong to have the cold metal pressing into your skin. You weren’t ready for death to come at that moment. Not when there were people waiting for you to save them. 

“Yoongi.” You cried out. “Yoongi!” You screamed. 

The door was slammed open after your first call of his name. 

“Your grace!” Yoongi shouted, throwing the man off you. 

“Back off!” Yoongi pushed him away from your bed, grabbing at his sword. 

“What are you doing!?” The man sneered. 

“Me? What are you doing here? I told you all I had it covered.” Yoongi growled, sword held in front of him. 

“They sent me to come kill the queen. Something you couldn't seem to do.” The man retorted, looking between you and Yoongi. 

“Things have changed. I thought we talked about it. (Y/N) is not part of the assassination.” Yoongi tried to talk the man back down. 

“Anyone of the (L/N) family must be eliminated.” The man sneered. 

“Not her.” Your eyes flew to Yoongi crawling over the bed to get closer. 

“Don't tell me you've fallen for her? You are a disgrace to the rebellion. Just like all the others are.” 

He lunged towards Yoongi, knife ready as he tried his best to slash as the royal guard. However Yoongi was a trained assassin since he was a kid, no one could ever come close to what he had been trained to do. However just because he was trained didn’t mean the man wasn’t able to get a knick in. 

Once the man got tired, he charged forward with a grunt, ready to strike at Yoongi. However Yoongi wasn’t playing. Not when your life was in danger. So he took the sword and slashed it across the man’s torso ending his life in seconds. As he fell to the ground lifeless, Yoongi began to pant and place a hand over his bleeding arm hissing from the sting. 

“Yoongi! Are you okay?” You gasped, rushing to his side as he panted over the dead body. 

“I'm fine. It's just some scratches. I've been through worse.” Yoongi spoke quietly, looking over you. 

His eyes immediately fell to your neck, hoping that nothing had marred your skin. The scar from his own attempt stared back at him but at least it was reopened. His shoulders dropped their tensions glad to see you weren’t hurt.  

“Let me heal you.” You told him, moving him to your bedroll. 

You took the same supplies Namjoon had used on you all those months ago. However this time it was you using them on the man who tried to kill you. Yoongi allowed you to move the sleeve of his outfit. Your hands were soft, delicately pulling and pushing at the cut that didn’t seem that deep. 

He began to think about how you cared for the concubines. You must have grown to know how to heal others from the amount of times you had gone to them. 

“Why did you kill him?” You asked, not daring to meet his eyes. 

“He was going to kill you.” Yoongi spoke up, watching you with soft eyes as you cleaned at his wound. 

“And?” You questioned. 

He snapped his head to you, having thought that you were past wanting to end your life. When your eyes caught his, he saw that you were past that. It was doubt that seemed to be crawling into your head this time around. 

“You're a good queen. The people would be lucky to know the real you.” He spoke quietly. 

You swallowed thickly at his words. It wasn’t that you felt like you weren’t fit to rule. Rather it was that you weren’t properly educated to be one. You weren’t taught what your sister had been. The only thing you had to go off were your own morals and the ideas of those closest to you. You didn’t know the first thing it took to run a country but you wanted to try your best. 

“I don't feel like that.” You said, pulling away once you finished addressing his wound. 

“Take it from those closest to you.” 

“You included?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“I'm just the assassin who was sent to kill you.” He turned to the body that was bleeding out on the floor. “And yet here I am. Always the one who fails.”

He looked vulnerable to you. Like a little boy who missed out on his life because of some evil that came to take him. You didn’t know his past or what he wanted to do in the future but you knew that you wanted him in yours. 

“Redemption isn't impossible.” 

**

It took your mother four days to finally pass away. Her body was burned on top of a pile of wood for her funeral as was tradition. You watched as the flames swallowed her wrapped body whole. All seven of the boys stood behind you, watching with expressionless faces just like your father and sister. However, unlike them they knew this was the beginning of the end for the royal family's reign. 

Once everyone cried and prayed over the old queen's body, the rest of your family took their leave, leaving you and the boys. Yoongi walked up to your side, Hobi not far behind. You turned your head to look at him. 

“My mother was the easiest to get rid of but we still have more to accomplish.”

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